#Reader x Taehyung | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

mochilatae · 1 month

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Listen (Taehyung x Reader)

Word Count: 8.9kish

Pairing: Taehyung x Y/n

Rating: 18+/Mature/Explicit

Warnings: Dirty talk, voice kink, shyness/nervousness, flirting, stalking behavior, mild obsession/fixation, fingering, kissing, sucking, orgasms (yours), squirting (light), body fluid kink, masturbation, rubbing, questionable ethical stuff (Tae using the school directory to snoop), implied rule breaking (dorm visitor hours violation, etc), sucking, biting, college student encounter, multiple orgasms, swearing, finger sucking, body fluid ingestion (he licks you off his skin). I'm sure I forgot some.

Genre: PWP, Strangers to Lovers

AUs: College BTS

Summary: Everyone has kinks. You stumble upon your own when a sound takes over your thoughts and desires. A plan to discover more about it goes further, faster than you expect.

Author’s Note: This one took a while to edit and rewrite (here and there), but thank you for reading it!

If you liked it, feel free to leave a comment telling me! Reblogging is appreciated but never required.

Tag List: @kiestrokes

Have you ever been attracted to someone’s voice?

If you’d been approached with that question, the answer would have been ‘No’. …Until this year.

Until exactly a month and a half ago, at the start of this term.

Auralism. You’d learned the meaning only recently.

Tonight your finger followed the printed text along the page until you found the word and carefully traced each letter with a pointer fingertip. Every curve and swoop of the ink, your belly fluttered.

To think: this sudden feeling inside you from a sound–one coming from another human being just doing the most basic kind of communication–could have an actual term to represent it. Something finally put to meaning the yawning pit that opened up inside you, at hearing a voice.

The tingle was in your chest again, then it moved south. You turned the page and scanned a block of words at the top, grateful for somewhere to put your focus and ignore the tension piling on. It had been with you from the moment your sneaker sole met the faded ruby carpet inside the library’s front hall.

While it hadn’t lessened over time, reading–or trying to–did the job to sink your fixation into something else, temporarily. Eventually a low chime from the intercom nearby broke your reverie. You glanced towards the sound.

Although it was expected you still held a breath. Soon enough came: The voice, buttery and deep, with the hint of a smile. The tone, always calm, regardless of day or time.

‘Attention all patrons. The Pierce Library will be closing in 15 minutes. Please gather your belongings and bring any materials for checkout to the front desk.’

You could almost recite it by heart. Instead, you leaned back, eyes closed, to enjoy the last hints of the voice until the sound faded. You were always waiting for this moment. Chasing it, slipping away too quickly for as long as it took to arrive. THAT was what set fire to your senses.

Your smile grew, checking your phone to confirm. Right on the nose–exactly 15 minutes before those front doors would be closed and locked. That meant he’d soon come through.

What you’d heard just a moment ago wasn’t the usual recording and that was an even bigger bonus tonight. The barest pause between instructions wasn’t lost on you. Noting those little differences had such an impact in tonight.

It wasn’t just that you’d heard the same spiel enough. A lot was owed to the knowledge of employee routines and schedules. Spending enough time here made that a natural eventuality. Which really mattered for one person in particular: The owner of that voice.

The voice that nibbled at your self control from the first time you heard it. Nibbles became bites as the interest and curiosity grew, along with attraction. You carried a simmering heat almost constantly. There wasn’t a time you passed by the library now without feeling light headed or tight from the waist down.

Normally being so ‘into’ something wasn’t your way. Nothing got such a hook into your brain. That it was specific to a person, that had you waffling between shame and delight.

After a deep breath, you stole a look at that word again, then closed the book and stood. You felt a little impressed at how deep your research had gone–from first glance in a kitschy sex book to the present deep dive into the psychological aspects of this interest.

Book cover braced against your chest, you swung one hip against the chair back. The remaining lights in the library’s further stacks blinked off. Aisle by aisle at the blackness closed in, leaving the barest shape of book tops barely discernible in the dim light overhead.

Phone tucked into one pocket. And the book. Actually leaving with non-study material was a mood booster. Reading for pleasure proved to be something much rarer these days.

The walk to the circulation desk was quick enough and you stopped there at the opposite end of the Checkout sign faintly swinging when the library doors opened, then closed.

Laying the book on the counter, you glanced around. The heavy silence left plenty of room to notice so many minor things: the checkout computer screen, still aglow. An errant pen, sideways across into an open notebook, next to a nondescript textbook–thicker than anything you’d bought this term. Judging from the density it wasn’t a light read.

Did he own it? To be graced with a golden voice, AND a strong study ethic? An appetite for learning did things to you too. Whatever the word for attraction to intelligence was, you’d seen it once then promptly forgotten. In spite of that your suffering was doubled.

Facing forward didn’t prevent the light shock when a form appeared at the farthest of the counter and stepped behind it, then headed your way. The world narrowed as he got close. It was a good few inches of height difference. You kept focus on the book until he stopped right across from where you stood.

He met your rising stare with a smile. The big, beautiful kind. He barely tugged the shirt sleeves rolled to the inside of both elbows. Not a complete departure from the usual campus attire and enough to make him stand out. At least to YOU.

As he stood right here, you confirmed an earlier suspicion: he’d passed by before, pushing a cart of books and humming over the creaking wheels. The view of his retreating back had been as satisfying as seeing him approach now. A thin smile crested your lips. Even under the light here, his eyes held a curious glimmer. The angle of his head changed and his welcoming smile shrank a little.

He motioned, raising one dark brow. “Checking out or returning?”

This voice, so distant for weeks–only through speakers and on oft played recordings–was now directly in front of you and speaking to you. Several of your fingers curled the counter edge, clinging.

“Um..” A moment later, you managed to slide the book across the counter with a small push. His eyes went to the cover. “..Checking out.” After an extended study of the book, he shot you a look, grinning more.

Whomever this guy was, his existence proved the concept of perfect facial symmetry wasn’t just a hyped theory. Just keep checking those boxes, sir. It all kept getting better–a perfect voice. Perfect face. Brains. You couldn’t dare to imagine what else he was hiding that was on your list of ‘things’.

If any other students had queued up behind you, there was no chance you’d even notice. And who could blame you? Especially when he found your stare again. Your nails sank into the wood under the counter’s edge.

The man braced one elbow into the top and his lids dropped a little.

“What’s your name?”

“Me?” To think you’d drummed up scenarios with him asking this very question. It was fun to imagine him watching you too. From afar. Maybe not as sneaky, like you tried to be. But letting that possibility into your mind was almost enough to burn you up on the spot.

You took a breath, working hard to separate yourself from spiraling over this routine conversation. He probably did it hundreds of times a week so this wasn’t a thing for him. You were sure, even if it was moving your entire world right now.

Half turned away and waiting for a reply, his eyes narrowed on the monitor. He clicked around, then typed into a small pop up on the screen. Even the electric white glow complimented his features. But you almost couldn’t be surprised, even if your fevered, crush drunk mind might be exaggerating things. Without anyone around, it was okay to lean into the delulu a bit.

After enjoying the view, you drew a bracing breath. It was time to get a grip. Focus. Get through this. Shape up, girl. You came here enough, this had to happen eventually. You went looking and found him.

Now was not the time to mess things up. Wherever this ‘situation’ might end up.

You fumbled, patting your coat and jeans pockets and your belly dropped. No familiar shape of your student ID in any pocket. The air thinned and you coughed, throat tightening. The sound earned his side eyes and crooked one corner of his mouth.

“Name?” He asked, much quieter. There was a purr in his tone that rode your nerves and struck right between your thighs. Just like when you listened to those recordings. The oddest kind of Pavlovian response, and what a time to have it.

You were about as sturdy as a sand barrier under the rushing tide. What could come from full frontal exposure to something you’d been craving for weeks. It was enough of an ask that your legs not collapse. To hide a tremble, both hands dove in your pockets. Your shoulders started to rise.

“I don’t have my ID..” You had to sound nervous as hell. Not since first year speech class had you felt that heat at your collar, but it was here, now. Begging you to tug and vent the warmth bottle necking.

“I don’t need that. ..Just a name is fine.”

“Y/n.”

“Y/n..” His fingers moved over keys. The screen changed, washing his face in more neon hues.

“..Miss L/n?”

The man turned back, then opened the book. Inside the cover, he scanned the barcode, then stamped a due date. Next to it he wrote initials.

There was your chance with his head bowed. No time like the present. Couldn’t be too obvious. It didn’t prove easy, especially when a few more lights turned off nearby and more darkness closed in.

You leaned closer to ‘check’ the date, and noted the letter T. Much more than that was challenging in the upside down view. His handwriting wasn’t flawless but it was unique enough you couldn’t quite catch the second letter.

He wore no name tag–no student worker did. It wasn’t as if the night was long enough to stand here, squinting at lined paper and looking for an answer. Especially one solved by a direct question.

“--Um…what’s your name?”

Facing you again, he held out a receipt as he replied. “Tae.”

His muted shyness had you delighted.

“Tae..hmm..” You suddenly detected a note of lavender in the air. It had to be coming from Tae.

“Don’t think I’ve heard that name before.”

“Well, my name isn’t common.”

“..And your last name?” Not even rising nerves could stop you asking.

Hormones that had been dining on your self control from the moment you sat down continued, unabated. Nature’s greatest inspiration and owed all the thanks for bringing you here–day after day. Keeping you camping in a library chair or at a table, nourishing a quiet obsession. Working towards an eventuality that finally arrived tonight.

“No one usually asks me that.” Tae showed no offense or displeasure. If anything you read a pleasant surprise. The same couldn’t have been said about you if the same question had come from a stranger at a first meeting.

“Hope it’s not rude?” You asked, just to clear the tiniest nagging doubt.

“No.” Back was the shy smile that made your guts heavier. After a pause, he gazed at you, continuing.

“My last name is Kim.”

“I’ve heard that name around campus.” You admitted. Kim was a common enough last name. Was there a chance he’d know any of the other Kims walking around on this campus? None of the ones you’d seen bore a single passing resemblance to Tae.

NO ONE could look like him.

Tae smirked. “No relations, as far as I know.”

“Yeah?”

Tae nodded. “I’ve met a few of them–had some classes with one. Super smart guy. Probably the smartest I’ve ever met here.” As you watched, Tae picked at a few specks on his sweater. “I could use some of his intelligence, honestly.” He concluded.

You winced at his subtle self depreciation. You were prone to the same thing, so it was easy to understand, but you still didn’t like or believe it when Tae said it.

“That’s not light reading by any means.” You pointed to the nearby textbook you’d seen before Tae showed up.

He glanced at it, then offered a shrug. “It’s required course reading. I DO like to read, though.”

“Well…you’re working at the right place, then. Being a library employee does have perks.”

He nodded with a laugh that made you smile too. One thing stood out this close: the shape of his natural smile. Was so much more than just handsome. How many other girls saw it? Especially with that grin spread on his face during small talk, or when he went about his day on campus.

It wasn’t reasonable to assume you were the only one thinking about Tae, but that didn’t matter at this moment because he was talking to YOU. This indisputable fact had your head lighter.

“What is this book? I’ve never read it before..” As he asked, Tae pulled it closer and spun the book around. As he read the cover, one finger followed the words. But this digit was long and slender. You swallowed.

“Just something silly–”

“The Psychology of Human Sexuality.” He murmured, lifting one brow again. Fervently you prayed he didn’t open it randomly to ‘check things out’. Or even worse—discover the page you’d noted. And the post-it with your new favorite word written in flourishing letters.

Heartbeat thundering, you let go over the counter and fussed with your pockets again. Your throat had gone from being tight and pulsing to dry and hoarse as you spoke.

“Kind of recreational. Seemed interesting, compared to the usual required reading.” That was way more truth than anything else. No shame pressured you to lie. And anyway, you had a strong feeling Tae wasn’t the type to judge a choice.

His expression turned placid. Tae seemed to be assessing something, then nodded and glanced at the clock nearby and took a step back from the counter.

“I hope you enjoy it, then.”

After he turned away, you watched as he gathered his things–a black hoodie. Book bag. Finally he turned back to the computer, clicking and typing again. Eventually the screen went dark and he straightened.

That was your sign. Get while the getting is good. Proper conversation always went best when the participants knew the right time to leave.

“Thanks for checking this out to me” you murmured. It took a little bit before “It was nice meeting you..” followed.

“It’s my job..and I kinda like this whole checking out books thing.” Tae was back to being cutely shy and it really suited him. So did the cheeky smile that came with it,much to your delight. It was hard not to wonder how often he trotted this smile out with others.

For a few seconds Tae’s attention was on the exit.

“Have a good rest of your night, Y/n.” He finally murmured.

You preferred to keep your focus on him. Really nothing could tear it away at this point. There wasn’t much else in this plane of existence right now with Tae in front of you. A little over the top, but this was a literal dream come true.

“Thanks.” You took a few backward steps, then turned and headed for the doors. His next move would remain a mystery.

Your steps quickened and you were at the doors in second, then ducking through. Outside, you inhaled cool night air as you waited until your racing heart slowed just enough. It was like you hadn’t felt. Hadn’t realized. Just like so many other things in the orbit of Taehyung Kim.

The doors clicked as your foot left the last step. At that sound weight slid away.

‘Have a good rest of your night..’ Tae’s parting words weren’t much, but they left you floating.

The misty air of the evening was erased by a flush of desire as you hurried across the quad. In the distance the shape of your dorm became visible as you closed the distance, darting around planters and benches. It was so empty and quiet, but every step his words repeated again and again. So did the bolts of arousal, stabbing through your core.

You didn’t have the sense or nerve to say it then, but you thought it now. I will,Tae. All thanks to you.

————————————————————————

It wasn’t a far off assumption that the plan of your night would follow routine: you, belly down, on your bed and leafing through the pages of a magazine.

But that was before tonight, when fate saw fit to change things. Like in the library. Revelation was the knock on your door. Not exactly unusual, but you didn’t have many visitors, unlike other students here. And that was how you preferred it.

Routine flow stopped as you looked up, waiting for a beat.

This was a fairly large building on campus. It wasn’t odd to get someone knocking now and then, having come to the wrong floor in search of a friend. It was a weekly occurrence, and not one you were hard pressed to resolve right now. You could wait more. Maybe even long enough, whoever it was would go away.

The knocking at this hour was odd. Usually the ‘wrong room’ faux pas happen during daylight hours, or twilight at worst, but that detail was minor. No need to split hairs about it.

A double thump against the door, this one firmer, with a clear intention. Whomever this was, wrong or right, they probably would do another knock. And maybe even another. Soon it would draw attention. For how quiet it had to be in the hall outside, sound could carry MUCH further without the rabble of daily dorm life as a buffer.

Standing with a huff, you tugged on the first oversized sweatshirt within reach and headed for the door. Standing close to the dull painted wood, you aligned one eye to the peephole and squinted through the fisheye lens.

Not as much was clear, save for a mop of vaguely golden-brown hair and the barest outline of a long coat with broad shoulders. Distortion stretched the figure, adding height. Or it might be the panic in action—that never failed to warp your senses.

After you unlocked the door, you peeked into the open space. The tip of your nose preceded you, catching the musky hallway air.

“Who—”

Quickly you stopped as a pair of eyes met yours under a tangle of bangs. No confusion. No wrong room goofiness. No mistake to excuse this. Those were the very same eyes that gazed across the checkout desk.

Him.

Taehyung Kim. Smiling warmly enough to dispel the chill rising.

“Hi.” He held up a book, the cover facing out, then waved it. “Forget something?”

Your eyes went there, the hand on the door knob tightening as weakness crept up your legs. THAT was the nagging feeling. What you’d been trying to remember since coming through the door a while ago.

Whether you wanted to faint or hoped the ground would open up and pull you to the center of the earth, it was all the same. In seconds sweat dappled your spine. Your face got hotter as you met his question with a shrinking smile after sneaking another unnecessary peek at the cover.

That was your book in his hand, bobbing back and forth. Oh my god. You didn’t remember giving your address. Whatever rule he might have broken, he had access to the student system to get what he needed. That meant he’d made the conscious effort, then went further, coming across campus to find you.

At this late hour. After work. On a school night.

“Geez.” After you opened the door a bit more, Tae passed the book, then rested his empty hand on the door frame. He wasn’t imposing or inserting himself over the threshold. You could close the door, safe in the gut feeling that he wouldn’t stop you.

It was the next logical step with delivery complete, if that was his true purpose. And why wouldn’t it be? Tae wore such a relaxed grin and his lids sat lower. It was subtle, but there in the depths of his eyes: a flirt. Sweet and delightful, but charismatic too. A change from when he’d scanned your book at the checkout desk.

DO SOMETHING. The urgency roared through your mind. Soon thought became action when you raised the book and waved it like he'd done.

“Thanks.” Your lips vaguely shook, even curved in a smile. If Tae could tell, there was no sign in his generally neutral expression, after his smile melted away.

He squinted through the open door, past your form and without a trace of shyness. Tae wasn’t rushing the moment as he eyed the interior. There wasn’t much to see from where he stood. None of the dorm rooms were spacious enough to give everything away at the door. Your single bedside table lamp and string lights along the bookshelf didn’t bring further clarity. They barely provided ambiance.

“It’s kind of a pigsty at the moment.” You freely confessed. Suddenly you were sure this was too much stuff in too little a space, even if it hadn’t bothered you until this moment. Tae made you aware–of your body now, and everything else around you. Nothing like your complete obliviousness in the library.

Tae’s form lounged into the frame, filling the space nicely, testing your self control all too quickly. It wasn’t like he’d grown a few inches on the walk over, but he had more on you than first gleaned in the library.

“Hard to tell.” Tae’s brow rose, then he chuckled. You didn’t feel like laughing. Couldn’t, with your chest growing tight.

“Was there something else?” You managed. The book seemed heavier after you asked. Staying mute, Tae studied you this time before he stood upright again.

“Are you busy? I wouldn’t mind seeing inside here more. You say it’s a mess—that’s a relative term. I’ve had roommates that lived in a hoarder’s dream. I doubt your room is in that kind of shape.”

Rapidly your heartbeat climbed.

“S..sure.”

You stepped back, opening the door further. Tae came through. Maybe this was one of those REALLY vivid dreams. Feeling so real you’d swear on everything you were awake. The thing you wanted so much–him here, in your dorm room alone–was happening this very second. Apparently all the prayers you’d sent up finally paid off tonight.

Still, you squeaked in surprise as Tae rolled his shoulders and the coat slid to his forearms. Stripping himself of his outerwear proved his stature wasn’t all fashion illusion. Even in his remaining shirt and jeans, he looked impressively broad.

You turned back from locking the door to see Tae draping the coat over one forearm, then he began to scan.

“Where should I put this?”

You took the jacket and hung it on a nearby hook–the only one empty among the row of several already overburdened ones.

“This is fine..” You replied.

As you moved further into the room, Tae’s steps trailed. As you paused in the middle, between the bed and a small closet directly across from it, he stopped just at your right side. Silence that went on for a handful of seconds while you surveyed the space.

“Not as small as I expected for a single room.” Tae hummed in conclusion. Either he was being polite or optimistic, you couldn’t decide, but you had to appreciated it either way.

“I guess. I can’t complain. Makes it a lot easier without a roommate. Somehow those double rooms manage to feel smaller.”

“Yeah?” Tae stepped away, strolling to the foot of the bed. You went to the left side, attention anywhere but him.

Eventually you gazed out the window and followed the slow procession of a couple, meandering down the sidewalk below. You wouldn’t mind holding hands with Tae the way you saw those strangers entwining fingers, arms swinging lightly. Probably chatting quietly with each synchronized footstep.

On another day or in another time you might have had the balls to go for that, but right now was WAY too soon, even if you’d touched him more in your fantasies. Without any kind of hesitation. The idealized version of you lived under no phantom weight of insecurity or awkwardness.

“Mind if I sit here?” Tae motioned towards the bed. You nodded and he sank down, both hands limply resting on his thighs. Here you could really stew in the fact that his attention wasn’t diminishing in how good it made you feel. It was like he was returning the favor. Squaring things up evenly for all the attention you’d paid to him for so long.

Did Tae have the same twisting inside, holding your stare? It would be something else to sink so much time gazing into those eyes as you’d spent reading books. Even the one you’d forgotten tonight, that he’d kindly delivered. With the book, there was hope he’d indulge you in a different kind of education.

Settled enough, Tae continued. “The book. Why that one?”

At his reminder, you looked down at the book lightly trembling in your grasp. Instinctively you opened it to the post-it tagged page and the word, notated in bright blue ink.

“Just…curious.” You were telling some measure of truth. It was one of many reasons, but you chose to keep Tae ignorant enough beyond that for as long as you could. Some would call it risk minimization. Or self preservation.

“Yeah?” He braced one palm into the bed and the other hand he held out. It was quickly obvious that he wanted to see the book again. Without comment you passed it back. Not bothering to close it. Maybe Tae had opened this thing and already saw the post-it on his walk over.

“I’m guessing you don’t make it a habit to forget books you check out..” He skimmed one page, then turned a few before stopping to read a little.

Finally he reached the post-it page. You prayed and hoped he didn’t know the word, as much of a longshot as that might be. A snowball in hell had better chances.

As demonstrated earlier, Tae’s expression revealed no understanding or ignorance as he finally looked up.

“...---you usually post-it note the pages, or is that reserved for textbooks you buy?”

You brushed a strand of hair away from one temple. Not your best effort to be casual, even with a tepid shrug. It was more a nervous kick back than a graceful toss of the head that sent your hair back.

“Not that it’s important, really. …Is that a death worthy offense?”

“No..” Tae glanced over the page. Who knew exactly what he was reading in the blocks of text on both pages. “--Highlighting the pages, that’s the real disrespect.”

You’d never considered doing that to a book you owned and it was a cardinal sin in the world of library patronage. He went back to studying the page briefly, then carefully closed the book and laid it on the bed, within reach.

“Y/n.”

A deliberate pause after your name left his lips. Like he was waiting and it worked.

You fidgeted with your sleeve. “Yes?”

“Come sit with me? I want to talk a little.”

“Yeah?” About what, you couldn’t imagine, but there was hope deep underneath the shock fissuring your sanity.

He patted the neatly done bedspread and you shuffled closer, then lowered. This was your space and property, so why did you feel so immobilized? Tae’s instructions seemed to be some blessing. Some..permission you needed. You boggled.

“There..” As the bed sank subtly under your backside, Tae’s hand returned to his thigh and rested.

His tongue glided over both lips. Quick, but effective enough to make your thighs flex. Your hands, previously limp on your lap, went to your thighs, condensing into fists.

“That word.” He began. His pointer finger followed the neatly done embroidered pattern running the bedspread as it meandered closer. “..Does it mean something to you?”

“No. I was just curious about it.” The lying was harder than ever. Downplaying wasn’t your strong suit either.

“Hmmm.” He was quiet again.

“Have you ever heard of it?” You probed. It would send you into orbit to think Tae could know. That he understood the concept of kinks and had any. To find out he followed any newly found ones to a natural conclusion where they became part of his collection.

It was a lesson in fuck around and find out when Tae nodded.

“Yes.”

“Oh.” Nails sank into your palm.Blood rushed to your temples from between your legs. Of course. As if it had always made sense–he wasn’t afraid to read. A job at a library usually didn’t suit a student without the tolerance or interest to learn. That always led to discovery and contemplation. A Yes was the more than likely result, but hearing it from Tae was something truly special.

“What do you think of it?”

“The word?” Your brows pinched in confusion.

“The meaning.” Tae clarified with a warm grin. “Is that something you’re interested in?”

God what is happening right now? This moment was falling right into your lap. This whole NIGHT was like a missing puzzle piece in your life. Even with all those dreams and fantasies, you weren’t quite prepared for this night. This reality. But there wasn’t a way back, only going forward with the natural flow you felt pulling at your entire body and soul. And it was taking your right to Tae.

“Apparently..”

He seemed keen to suss out why. You didn’t blame him, having put a giant arrow right there essentially. In that book for him to see. He probably could tell you were the type who didn’t give time to things you weren’t truly interested in.

“Oh?” Tae leaned closer and the bed dipped more. “You get turned on by sound?”

You couldn’t look, turn away, or barely breathe. The pressure condensing inside your pelvis was pulling everything to it with the intensity of a blackhole.

“Basically.” Your eyes were barely open as Tae’s nose brushed your cheek. His breath warmed the trail of his touch.

“Is there a particular sound that does it for you?”

“Yes.” Time to lean into the experience. Just abandon all pretense of concern that he’d judge. Nothing about his questions right now were needling or picking your apart in any way.

Tae’s lips quirked. “Tell me. I’m curious.”

He’d be waiting a while since you suddenly couldn’t admit it, even for all the times you’d dreamed of his very encouraging, handsy reaction to that detail. Your lips refused to respond but your thighs were a different story, clamping with a vice-like grip, then moved against each other when your hips shifted.

Tae’s stare bounced down, then came back up, both brows higher. He followed one corner of his lips with the tip of his tongue.

“Is it a sound someone makes?”

Still, you couldn’t force out a response, but it was clear Tae already knew. He’d found the trail and doggedly followed the clues woven through your reactions.

He inclined his head, lips pausing within a hair’s breadth of your own. “Is it a voice? Is it…my voice?”

Tae had to be playing with you, or be devilishly smart. It was hard to know which. Clearly he could read people, as many as he encountered working on campus and attending classes. It couldn’t be clearer. Whatever his major, Tae’s observation skills were top tier. Skills like that, he could have been truly evil, but there was nothing in his energy that gave a sniff of evil.

“Uh huh..” You weakly managed. “I..can’t help it.”

“...And that’s why I’ve seen you at the library so much?”

“You…s..saw me there?”

Tae huffed. You hardly knew what to say to begin explaining—not that it would help. The jig was up. It was reasonable to prepare for the reality that he’d call you delusional or creepy before he got up and left. And he’d be well within your right. At the very least, you’d be lucky not to have a stalking complaint lodged with student affairs.

Compared to Tae looking up your dorm number during work hours with college equipment, your weeks of casing his job routine, just to indulge what had become an obsessive kink, seemed more legally perilous.

You held a breath, eyes screwed shut while Tae went on.

“Of course. I watched every time you came in. At first I thought it was the same old thing. Assignments or cram sessions. But..eventually, I realized it was something else–the way you reacted to the announcements. Only mine. It wasn’t hard to figure out it was my voice.. That you like it.”

It was fruitless to pretend or do damage control.

The world slid a little when you nodded, listing right towards Tae’s warm body. And making contact. Instead of pushing you away, the heat of his longing sigh rolled across your chin .

“What should I say?”

Tae, offering his voice up for use right now, allowing you a custom experience. Something levels above the usual fantasy. The chance to trade figments in the mind for flesh and blood, at YOUR command? Seemed almost too much to accept how this whole night was just getting better and better.

“Say?” You gulped. “You don’t think it’s..creepy?”

“Y/n, if I thought that, do you think I’d be here?”

“Maybe not–”

“No. I wouldn’t be. I am right now. So…let’s explore this..thing you have for me.You DO find me attractive, don’t you? Or is it just my voice?” There was a tickling playfulness in his tone. You shuddered softly and Tae’s eyes wandered to your chest. It wasn’t much to see with this big sweatshirt on.

Which suddenly felt too hot. Your skin was going damp underneath as you inhaled, chest heaving.

“I do.” Your groaning reply brought a boxy smile out on Tae’s face.

“So..” His voice dipped to that velvety deep rumble that your mind ran wild with during ‘self love’ sessions. Involuntarily your belly tightened. “Use it. Use me, Y/n. What can I do for you?”

“God..” You whined, helpless as your head dropped back, right into Tae’s palm. Like he’d anticipated, ready to guide you flat out on the bed. As you sprawled out, Tae leaned over, gazing into your eyes as they opened finally.

Running his thumb over your lower lip, Tae took a bite of his own.

“Don’t be shy. You’ve had at least a whole week’s indulgence. I’m flattered.” His voice dipped to nearly a purr, adding “...Now I want to see this little kink in action.”

His thumb prodded the warm, plump skin of your lips in exploration. A minute later, moving south to draw an invisible line between your breasts. At the waist of your sleep shorts he stopped, tickling the elastic waistband sitting below your abdomen.

Your hips undulated up, then your ass met the bed. Far and away, no fantasy had prepared you for this moment. No matter HOW often you’d clearly walked this kind of scene through.

Tae’s lids lowered further. “Or I can just talk to you, if you want, Y/n.” This option proved much more tempting. “Since I know you love my voice.”

You couldn’t scrape together words of reply, only nodding. A quiet laugh spilled over your neck when Tae leaned in and brushed his lips along your earlobe. Every exhale feathering your skin sent found ways to more than a few erogenous zones on your body–some you didn’t know until this very moment.

“P..please.” You finally whispered. Thank goodness Tae asked because this wasn’t something you’d ever be able to ask for out loud. You had enough to deal with right now, finding he was as you’d dreamed, and more than that only hours ago.

You needed that push, and he didn’t hesitate. Tae already had the reins as someone bolder than you, freeing intimate moments you’d tucked deep into your brain. The kind that only saw the light of day behind a safely locked dorm room door.

More fingers slid down your arm, to the sweatshirt sleeve, then circled your wrist and lifted that hand, bringing it to your belly. He laid that hand palm down, just above your mound, then dragged the back of a few nails along each knuckle. Slow. Deliberate. Unbelievably delicate.

“I want to see what you’ll do. What my voice inspires. You can give me that much, right?”

Another nod, then your head met the cool sheets, your senses drowning in a blending scents: detergent and the cloying sweet of Tae’s skin. Somehow, someway, he was already inside you, in some way–beyond your mind. You drew him deeper with a full breath.

When one leg drew up and the knee bent, Tae shifted around it, his thigh bracing your shin. Tae’s lips parted and breath shuddered through the space as he slid fingers under the waist of the shorts and brought them down an inch, then did it again. As he pushed the shorts down over your knees, heat rolled off bare skin. on escape made your skin prickle.

He wasn’t even properly touching you and every nerve was already blown wide open, ready to send every single sensation right to your head.

“There..” He murmured with another smile. His hand laid across your belly, then he curled the fingers curled under the sweatshirt hem and pushed it up just under your breasts.

Tae wasn’t hiding the curiosity in his eyes–he WANTED to see. If he read well enough, your body was talking too as your torso shifted and writhed. Need was crawling up from your thighs like a thousand snakes under your skin.

“What is it you think about, Y/n? You think about me kissing you? I like kissing. Especially lips like yours.” He made that act of pondering such a sultry thing. Normally you found it harmless and clinical.

Feeling suddenly heavy, your eyes rolled back. That was fine too, since it was much easier that way. You’d already dined well on sight alone and Tae's face floated readily in the blackness.

He pressed a soft kiss to your cheek. You let a finger slip down, plunging through the slick folds at the apex of both thighs.

A bare forearm slid against your sleeve. “How often do you come home and do this---touch yourself while thinking about me?”

Tae’s fingers slipped over top of yours and cupped the back of your hand. Like you, his finger went to the second knuckle and for a moment you both stilled. Just you and Tae, trading squeaks and gasps. You rippled around the fingers as the temperature between your breasts climbed.

“You’re so wet. God.. Was this all from hearing me? Go deeper, Y/n. Show me what you wanted and how to open you up..”

The second leg retracted, then you rolled a bit more towards the silky plane of his palm. With you, his finger plunged deeper, then a pressure circle your folds clinging around him. He was flexing and bending a second finger so perfectly. How dexterous and flexible he’d need to be to do it.

A fist tightened and you pushed firm into the mattress.

For all the changes inside you right now, there was no hurry, on Tae’s part. Like the late hour or his location on campus didn’t matter. Especially when his body elongated next to you, pressure aligning your side.

This twin mattress was normally miserable for just you. Now it seemed just right. He made a limited space feel so open and unending. But even more: he was making your insides feel smaller. Tighter. Wetter.

I’m not weak. I’m taking this chance. He said he wanted me to show him. You wanted to open up so much more and give him an idea of what you experienced calling him to mind, over and over.

“I haven’t really used my fingers much, if I’m honest.” Tae grinned into your shoulder, then nibbled. Kissed and sucked the skin, lips popping.

You shook from breasts to thighs and they widened. No shame, unconcerned. Nothing but pleasure spilled through you as more of his finger moved inside. Stretching like this was a cake walk with so much slippery fluid all over. And it was all you.

A spastic clench washed through when Tae kissed your neck then moved to your ear. His teeth sunk against your earlobe. “You’re so tight. ..Virgin? …Or is it me? Keep going… Move your finger. Play for me.”

It was how heavy those last 3 words felt that snapped your thighs together. Trapped your entwined fingers. Tae was silent when pulled away, then burrowed into your neck.

Finally his finger matched your depth, then moved backwards and cycled forward again.

“Like this? That’s it…don’t stop..” Tae teased through gritted teeth. You knew that breathing, having done it so much deep in the throes of masturbating. Like he knew just how to echo what you hungry mind wanted most: the combined sounds of fucking. Fucking with you. You, fucking Tae. The pace of breathing came naturally as you melted into a groove.

Whether it was the fingering or the sexy thoughts, the pace built. His finger wiggled and he pumped it steadily, building a web of glistening ropes between more fingers. A few strokes later and he started to prod inside you.

The currents of pleasure rode your spine, bringing your breasts up. Tae laid his chest against your as bowed back. It was just right to pin you in place. His hand cupped yours so tenderly, but with that hint of a squeeze. Like he owned your hand. Ready to use it in conjunction with his own to do whatever he wanted. And whatever THAT was, you’d do.

What crime was it to want to go along with this?

“Where..is it—” He crooned. Pressure swept along your front wall and your whole body convulse. A shimmer flooded through you. Tae chuckled. Pressure crossed the same spot, going the other way.

“There.. That’s perfect. You feel that too? Let’s have some fun with this together. It’ll be even better next time.” You barely heard anything when Tae massaged harder into that spot. You gasped through the heat and slick that was rushing to your pussy.

Your whole body went stiff. So many signals in your brain wound together, snapping and rejoining haphazardly. The sweatshirt tightened across your chest, grazing your perking nipples. Tae grunted as he rutted against your hip. There was no mistaking how hard that cock was as it pressed tight and gyrated.

He felt long. And Tae had a nice width. His cock would easily hit right where he was massaging and even deeper. You were human. Healthy and full of hormones, all rushing you towards the pinnacle of wants: his cock, stabbing into you. Stroking deep. Stamping that spot, relentlessly. Hard enough to drive right through your high. A train roaring into the dark of a tunnel on a race to the other side.

And it sent you over the edge. The orgasm was massive and much needed. So much had stored up from thinking this long about Tae. Storing so much unquenched thirst and desire in the limited space was breaking every shy speck inside you. In a blink you snapped. Floodgates inside flung wide with your guttural moan. The first contraction was so hard the faintest trickle ran out around the fingers.

“Fuck…Jesus baby.. You’re running down the back of my fucking hand..” Tae didn’t stop, working you through with more thrusting, as flow diminished but contractions increased. He flexed his finger beyond your reach, to the last knuckle, far beyond where you’d started.

Tae tugged a few times and it wasn’t gentle, but there was no pain. Only thrumming, horny shock. Only warmth to the fingertips as your womb churned towards another high. Just at the end of cumming a second time, you noticed the damp warmth under your ass. No guessing what it was or who’d done it.

Coming back to your senses finally, Tae’s face came into view. It didn’t matter how long he’d been over you like this, a dozy smile on full display with cheeks a little more red. But of course he looked good.

There were bigger concerns in life but you were floating too far from them to recall a single one. Really there wasn’t much you’d really mind right now.

Around you the room took shape again. The shadows darkened spots beyond where the limited lighting reached. Familiarity sharpened too. Here you were, back on earth. In your twin bed. 2nd floor, room 215.

His fingers still deep inside,Tae’s nose grazed your cheek. His mouth sank against the roundest part just below your eye. He pinched skin in a faint kiss, then he spoke, lips still flush to your skin.

“You could find out...” You giggled, the sound creaking as your throat and neck flexed. Maybe you really were levitating. Maybe not. It would be well deserved from Tae. A huge payout for taking quite a gamble.

“You’re still pulsing..” He observed, making you do it again just by mention, and all too quickly. Apparently tonight you didn’t require down time, which was a nice change.

“Could I? Are you the type to fuck on first dates?” ANYONE else had said that,and they’d find a red, stinging cheek or a pair of aching balls. But Tae was setting you free, instead of shutting you down.

“Would that be bad?” You didn’t think of yourself as the type, but you didn’t imagine you’d do what you’d done for weeks over man’s voice. More than just his voice. Everything about him is on my list. He IS the list.

On the heels of a flirty smile, Tae’s lips thinned. “Not at all, but that will mean we need to go on a date first.”

“...Minor detail. I didn’t know if you were single.” …In spite of everything else you’d suddenly learned, or gathered previously.

“..You don’t date?”

“It just hasn’t been a thing.” Tae’s finger was out now. He grasped your wrist and brought your finger to his lips. Without a blink, he sucked it deep between his lips, then swallowed. Tae was beyond both sexy and hot as he licked that finger clean after. Like it wasn’t enough or he just wanted every last molecule of flavor. Every trace of your taste.

That was disappointment waiting in the wings. That was reality. All you wanted was to avoid it for just a bit longer. Stay cocooned in strong, firm warmth, like you found with Tae shifting closer. More contact points between you and him.

Tae’s track record was stellar. First meeting, this man had fulfilled so much of the fantasy, with fuel to spare. Being so skilled with his fingers and voice, you didn’t want to think about what it would do when his cock was buried deep inside you.

His stare hinted he might have been pondering the same thing, but he offered a coy gaze. You were quickly to terms with how hot the room had really been, even exposed so much. You groped for the sweatshirt finding the material felt heavier, smothering your previously content shape. The garment was bulky for your taste. It needed to be gone, soon.

“I never said a thing about my dating life, but I’m available. Can you say the same, Y/n?” Neither his lips nor his brows changed shape. Tae was serious. In keeping with the trend, he looked hot like that too.

It wasn’t like you’d been saving yourself for anyone. Only in the last few weeks you realized: the waiting had been for Tae, albeit unknown. His mystery held you captive. Thinking you knew someone you didn’t know, beyond what you could grasp onto: the way he sounded. There was no way Tae wouldn’t match his looks with the quality of his voice. Finding out tonight brought you full circle to a realization that you WERE available,because you’d been saving yourself for him.

You grinned. “Yes. Available is a good way to describe it. I guess you could say we can temporarily check each other out—like a library book.”

A fling with Tae was most likely temporary and you were prepared to accept that. If it turned to something with more permeance, you’d be pleasantly surprised. With clarity came sense and reason. Beyond that there wasn’t energy for concern.

Tae took a moment to process your attempt at humor, then let out an easy chuckle. “It sounds like a match to me.” He straightened to tug the sweatshirt higher as your arms went up. It was pure relief with the shirt peeled away from your body. Tae managed to land the garment over the back of your computer chair.

Good eye. Good calculation skills. What else is he waiting to flaunt?

You took turns extending each leg for Tae to bring them to your ankles. He flung it away with less than a glance back, then he stood, taking your stare with him.

“Are you..going?” You laid back into your elbows. The effort was Herculean, holding the pose as you tried to keep panic and concern off your face. Tae could go.

He hadn’t exactly stated his plan was anything more than returning your forgotten book.

“Do you want me to? Hadn’t planned it. Do you have a curfew?”

“No..” You quickly replied.Tae hesitated, then a brow lifted. A few seconds passed, then he began pulling his shirt off too, less gentle and more efficient, dropping it right off the side of the bed he was closer to. His hand returned to find your hip and rest there. Just this touch, this light pressure from the pads of his fingers, you were aching through your core.

Tae made himself comfortable, scooting himself closer into the new space you made by shifting away from him. He pushed the book up towards your pillows, then arranged his body out beside you even, stretched more comfortably.

“Good. Neither do I.” He whispered.

“I want you to stay.” You stared at the base of his throat and lines of muscle running up from there. He was all long, graceful parts.

His eyes narrowed as he produced another warm smile that was hell of a lot like the one you’d first seen at the library desk, sans the internal conflict and panic.

“I wouldn’t object at all.” To say the least.

If fate saw fit to bring Tae to you, let your admittance and bravery not get him taken away. You shouldn’t get hooked on him. One moment…one experience at a time.

“I think that’s doable, for a little bit longer. We can read a little more from your book. Heard it’s a spicy read.”

“Oh?” Your eyes found a corner of the book cover peeking out from under the pale corner of a pillow at the headboard.

“..You…read it before?” Something passed through his eyes but Tae did his best to shrug his upward facing shoulder, reclined on his side facing you.

“Skimmed it.”

“Yeah? Cool.” You exhaled and hoping it didn't sound as much like a moan to Tae as it did to you. More time was needed to reveal how truthful he was. How accurate his statement was, based on what he’d presented. Although you didn't judge someone for their reading preferences, you wouldn’t have guessed Tae had skimmed beyond the inside cover, where he'd stamped the due date.

Tae traced your chin and walked fingertips across your lips again until he was leaning across the space to cup your cheek.

“I think I should read it to you. Since you react so well to my voice. What do you think?”

Feeling far too spun out and pleasure drunk, you nodded. When one gets an offer like this, one shouldn’t pass up. His idea deserved your wholehearted support, since it was entirely and generously tailored for you.

“Sounds good.” If Tae wanted, he could read you the phone book and it’d get the job done.

This whole ‘aural’ fetish was a thing you were grateful for, even more because you knew now: Tae was into it too. Even if it was from the other side. Perhaps there were sounds YOU could make that would have such a hold over him.

Laying back into the bed, the cool sheets worked to dull the lingering heat from your skin. Tonight you didn’t have to stare at the ceiling and imagine his face. Instead, your eyes went to Tae next to you, fully drinking in his face and energy. Enough to carry you whenever he’d leave–tonight or tomorrow.

Not like you’d never see him again. You knew that more than you knew anything else.

Tae relaxed onto his back and trained a glossy pair of eyes on your shape, eyes running your body shape against the dim light behind you. He finally spoke again.

“Grab the book. Pick a chapter and let me hear you. We’ve got a lot of exploration to do.”

#kim taehyung x reader #kim taehyung x you #kim taehyung x y/n #Kim taehyung x yn #college student tae #tae and you #y/n and tae #reader x taehyung #college reader x college bts #college reader x college tae #sexy tae #college boy taehyung #college bts: tae #college bts: taehyung

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dde719 · 7 days

Text

Mood Video, a lil late but that's ok 😭

#bts fanfic #tae x reader #reader x taehyung #jungkook smut #junkgkook x oc #taehyung smut

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btsfanficsbykj · 2 years

Text

Tickets To Paradise, Chapter 1

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Hello! Welcome to my first BTS fanfic!! I hope you enjoy! I have no idea who I'm pairing our lovely reader with yet, but I have lots of romance planned, along with all the angst, adventure, drama, reconciliation, and smexy times!! I hope you enjoy!!

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Relationships: BTS ensemble and Fem!Reader

Summary: Our lovely reader and her clever best friend have gotten their hands on tickets to the nearby BTS world tour concert, which had seemed impossible thanks to scalpers and jacked upped prices. Now, preparing to meet her beloved artists, she faces dealing with insecurities, anxiety, and a hell of a lot of just-plain-scared-out-her-mind.

This journey will follow her as she meets the boys of BTS and surprisingly catches their attention by means of her tattoo work, bright and shiny on her best friend's shoulder.

Warnings: none so far

Word Count: 1660

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Part 1 Part 2

“Hey there, darlin,” came the sly laugh from behind me.

“Hey, Smurf,” I responded, sniggering down at the copy machine as I made the 50000th copy of the day.

My coworker and partner-in-crime, Sarah, or “Smurf” as I affectionately named her, leaned against the Beast of a machine to my right, crossing her arms and feigning a nonchalant sigh of boredom.

It had been a long day. A ghastly week. In some ways, it mirrored the movie “Office Space” with the same monotonous routine, over and over and over again. The same managers droning on and on about better customer care and faster call times and working as a team, blah blah blah. Us worker bees of course just side-eyed each other with subtle rolling of the eyes, knowing we had to devote time to each individual customer to fix the problems, which meant longer call times. Which, of course, upper management just didn’t seem to get and completely ignored.

All in all, it was just another week, stuffed into another month, dragged into another year in this slightly stifling office job in the middle of the midwest, surrounded by cornfields and cringey political signs. Honestly, my only saving grace was the few tattoo gigs that popped up every now and again. Usually the loyal clientele that needed a touch up or new artwork done. I was a favorite at the only tat shop in the little town and was allowed to pick my hours. Nice, right?

Smurf huffed out another sigh, this one edging on annoyed, and I huffed one back at her.

“Whatchu want, Smurfs? I’m trying to get His Majesty’s sheets done before closing time.” His Majesty was none other than the Big Boss’ son, slave driver and all around mysoginistic jackass. He really enjoyed giving out the lesser jobs to his more feminine employees. Seemed to get a kick out of lording his authority over them. I swear, he was born in the wrong decade.

“I knooooow,” Smurf grinned, studying her acrylic nails as she swayed her curvy hips in place.

Taking my eyes from the Beast and rolling them in my bestie’s direction, I copied her stance and leaned against the wall behind me. “Smurfs, it's Friday,” I whined. “We’re almost outta here. Why you buggin’ me?”

Smurf finally let her inner demon glee shift her mouth into a huge grin and looked up at me. “So,” she spoke in a bored voice, betraying the utter joy evident all over her face, “You know The Concert That Shall Not Be Named?”

I stiffened. Of course. She HAD to mention the damned concert. Of all the gigs in all the world she had to bring me down with this shit.

I was an ARMY, through and through. Lover of all things BTS, a solid fan, albeit for only half a year, I had been taken into the massive group of fans by a random tiktok that played a piece of their animated music video, “We Are Bulletproof: Eternal”. The vocals, the harmonies, the lyrics, the beautiful artistry, and their incredible dedication to their fans all smacked me right in the face. And I knew it. I was hooked.

Of course, living in the midwest meant I had to show my love from afar. I lived too far away from any concert venue and was way too poor to travel to any shows in the neighboring states. But it was ok, I didn’t allow that to dampen my adoration. The boys were hardworking, dedicated, talented people and I absolutely admired their commitment to their craft and their followers. Honestly, I had never witnessed such love for the fans in any other musicians, never seen the power the fans hold acknowledged in such a precious way. Their humble hearts and minds continued to surprise and endear me with every new song and episode of their shows discovered.

However, the Impossible had happened. On their newest world tour, the PR team announced several new locations to their travel venue. And my heart had nearly lept out of my chest when I realized the boys were coming to the Big City merely an hour away from my little town.

Smurf had called me, nearly in tears, wailing that the tickets were already sold out and the scalpers were selling the hacked tickets for 4 times the original price. It was a Dark Day for us midwestern poor ARMYs. There were many mourning candles lit.

Hah, not really. But Smurf and I were happy for those who could attend, and continued to live our humdrum lives, secretly vibrating in excitement to have the boys in close proximity to us in just a few months.

And now, my traitor of a best smurf, decided to remind me of this damned concert. Right as I was about to declare freedom and make a run for the exit. I already had my weekend planned. Bubble bath, pineapple rum, stuffed crust pizza, the new Dr. Strange movie….

I glared daggers at my friend-turned-traitor. “You dare to mention said concert? On this, the day of my cat’s quinceañera??”

Smurf burst out laughing at the mention of our favorite cat meme. After a moment, she quickly returned to her former stance and glared back at me.

“Be prepared for your life to change, bitch.”

“What the fuck are you on about?” I laughed, clueless to her ramblings.

“I. Got. Tickets.”

My heart stopped.

“I’m sorry, I just hallucinated. What?”

Smurf huffed and dropped her hands, gripping my shoulders. “I. Got. Tickets. To see the babies. Our boys. The fine ass brigade. The glorious hip thrusters, the—”

“SMURF, YOU WHAT??”

My slightly unprofessional shriek in the middle of the large room filled with small cubicles and people readying for the weekend caused a sudden silence.

Ducking low, avoiding eye contact with anyone in the vicinity, I grabbed Smurf by the elbow and dragged her into the nearest conference room.

Tossing her dumb ass at the massive table, I slammed the door shut and stood staring at her, chest heaving.

“You, what… how??” My brain refused to believe anything that was said in the last 5 minutes.

Smurf placed her hands together in prayer form and giggled maniacally. “I got tickets. To the BTS concert. The one close by,” she gasped out.

My brain reeled, trying to imagine how this dirt poor office worker could manage to afford thousands of dollars worth of scalped tickets.

“Smurf, did you take your meds today?” I asked cautiously and slowly.

“Oh pfft,” she replied, waving her hand in the air as if to shove that very important inquiry aside. “You remember back in the day when they would give away tickets on the radio?”

“Oh. Yeah, sure. But… how the hell would they manage the phone lines for a BTS concert?” I pondered, imagining millions of phone calls bombarding a poor haggard DJ.

“See, that’s the thing. My uncle has connections, right? And it was a private giveaway. Apparently for certain… members of his club.”

I… did not even want to delve into that information. The infamous uncle of a supposedly… shifty background was also something we never really discussed. Even with some of the seedier clients that passed through my tattoo shop, we really tried to avoid dipping our toes in that area of the underworld. It was just acknowledged and then put aside.

“So… you called in.”

“I called in.”

“And won tickets.”

“Won front row tickets.”

I blanked, jaw hitting the floor. Front row… the ones that cost tens of thousands….. Holy fuck.

After my brain came back online, cue the AOL start up noises, I blinked several times and closed my mouth.

“....How many tickets did you get?” I asked in a very tiny voice, my brain starting to vibrate with the smallest of hope.

“Bitch, I got 2. Two mothafuckin tickets to see mothafuckin BTS!!!”

We both screamed and batted our hands at each other like absolute twelve year olds, shrieking and jumping around and losing our ever loving minds.

Suddenly, reality came crashing down. In the form of His Majesty himself.

“Uh, girls?” he shouted, head peeking in through the open doorway.

We immediately froze and turned, smoothing down our skirts and hair (damn dress codes).

“I believe it's a bit early for a sexy pajama party,” he sneered, laughing at his joke like the arrogant ass he is.

Smurf and I laughed weakly and nodded, apologizing for making such a ruckus.

“Now, get your butts back to finishing up the week, we aren’t paying you overtime. I’ve got a table at Delgado’s with my name on it.” He winked disgustingly and slipped his oily self back out into the beehive/workroom.

Smurf grimaced and gagged. “Ugh, woe be the woman who got snagged into that date.”

“Mmhmm,” I mindlessly agreed, my hindbrain going over every single detail of every single thing that we need to do to get ready for this experience of a lifetime.

Huffing and shaking off that creepy encounter, Smurf wrapped her arm around my shoulders and dragged me back out into the work room, shoving me at the copy machine.

“Alright, babes, finish up, we got planning to do, this shit is going down next weekend!!”

My heart skipped a beat and I gripped the Beast in shock. One week. Holy hell, the concert is in one week. I need a drink. I need a Xanax. I need a fucking horse tranquilizer.

All silly fangirling aside, my soul shivered in happiness, goosebumps spreading all down my skin. I would have the chance to watch these boys perform right in front of me. I will have the chance to witness their talent and voices and silly goofing and see the adoration in their eyes as they serenade their beloved ARMY.

I will have the absolute honor of witnessing the most acclaimed group of musicians perform on stage.

And I was absolutely panicked.

#bts #bts fanfic #bts fanfiction #bts fic #bts x reader #bts and reader #reader insert #bts concert #bts tickets #reader x jungkook #reader x jimin #reader x jin #reader x namjoon #reader x yoongi #reader x taehyung #reader x j-hope

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cherrryu · 2 years

Text

Luna and Solis

Summary: You fall for the only son of your family's generational loathed enemy

Pairing: kth and fem! reader

Word count: 647 words

⊰᯽⊱┈───── ✧ ─────┈⊰᯽⊱

You smelled like fresh rose petals, akin to the unthorned blooming genus rosa within the grand Capulet garden wall. With every step forward, your golden linen satin dressing gown swayed, identical to the ocean's tides. Upon reaching the comforts of your sleeping chamber, you couldn't help but admire the magnificent pools of moonlight, which streamed through brilliant venetian gothic windows. In a twinkling of an eye, warm, shallow breezes found themselves softly caressing your figure, hugging you softly, as you tenderly strided toward a small brick balcony. Joyous activities expectantly continued to fill the midnight spirit, as the Venetian Masquerade Ball commenced indoors the family tower home.

However, you were wholly incapable of regarding the bal masqué, as well as your privileged visitants. Your soul was more preoccupied by the intoxicating stranger you had tenderly brushed with your chaste lips. Masked in mystery and draped in sin, he had birthed an obscene desire deep within you. You were simply a nocturnal beauty irresistibly drawn toward the sunlight's luminance. Had you known you were fluttering toward affliction, you may have been able to hold your fondness back.

Unfortunately, you had become a victim of Cupid's devious golden arrow. Woefully having the unfortunate luck to love a loathed enemy, the only son of your family's greatest foe. A Kim.

A murmur of fresh air began stroking your intricate locks, as if whispering the promises of unconditional love. You leaned across your balcony, overlooking the rich orchards and the stone courtyard. Having only the enlightened moon as a witness, your blushing cheeks were laid upon your graceful hands. And as you rested your eyes closed, head curved to the right, you couldn't help but wonder what both of your families would do if they knew.

Ceaseless tragedy had always corrupted the timeless city of fair Verona. Sweet Cherubs had looked down from The Garden of Eden and scoffed at the endless brawls. Both noble families had clashes that were so endless in fact, that only Angels could recall the origin. Despite being a Capulet, your blood ran cold, reminiscent of the vicious resentment growing every generation. Your beau would surely be savagely murdered and you forlornly married away to another man.

With wide opened eyes and orbs in heaven, you observed the twinkling stars calling for your acknowledgment, easily illuminating the melodious nightingales. Were they perhaps singing a symphony of his sweet charm? Or was it a composition describing his disreputable rebellion? You leaned over your balcony as if trying to get a good listen. A hand was then tentatively brought to its stoney face, idly playing with a plump, saturated orchid leaf growing atop the walls. Out of all the treasured flowers in Italy, he was the most precious to you. Your heart never beat as lively as it did with the fairest flower of them all.

The moon's celestial body shone proudly, shining a pathway for the emerging creatures of the dark to wholly frolic in. You found your eyelids heavy, drowsy with infatuation and weariness. Yawns flowed through your cherry lips. Mellow fingers once again, found themselves laid upon your delicate cheek. Your long eyelashes continually fluttered, akin to a great Monarch's wings, signaling a hunger only slumber could quench. You extended your slender arms. Slowly stretching itself back into a familiar position.

In spite of your desire for rest, you silently perched atop the rough balcony. Your moving fingers encircled your elongated legs from under the tender texture of the nightgown. Warm touches intertwined with your longings, had you covertly wishing your beau was the one encircling your legs from under the garment instead. Holding your head high, you abruptly let out a lover's sigh.

"O Taehyung, Taehyung! wherefore art thou Taehyung? Deny thy father and refuse thy name; Or, if thou wilt not, be but sworn my love, And I'll no longer be a Capulet. "

⊰᯽⊱┈───── ✧ ─────┈⊰᯽⊱

Authors note: This was inspired by one of my favorite classical tragedies, Romeo and Juliet :) l'm currently thinking of continuing writing this story, hence its not necessarily done yet.

#drabble #fluff #oneshot #kth x reader #kth fluff #kth fanfic #kth angst #reader x taehyung #bts #romeo and juliet

12 notes · View notes

ctrlhope · 2 months

Text

Bound By Blood (m)

synopsis: A servant to the state since birth, forced to work for the royal family until you die. These are the conditions that have granted you life, yet are they are the same ones that can take everything away. He can take everything away. But he would never, for you are his future, his eternity.

k.taehyung x f.reader

❦︎ ݁ ˖┊: wc: 16.0k

❦︎ ݁ ˖┊: genre: royalty au, soft yandere, fluff, smut, smidge of angst

❦︎ ݁ ˖┊: content: soft yandere!prince!taehyung, maid!reader, power imbalance, talks about death/violence, blood, slight predator/prey dynamics, manipulation, misunderstandings, dom!tae, tae calls reader lamb, oral (f.receiving), marriage related dirty talk, virginity kink/loss of virginity, size kink, praise, reader is fucked dumb, implied kissing reader while she sleeps, implied offscreen somno, implied stalking, ownership, tae is rlly sweet and adorable

❦︎ ݁ ˖┊: notes: hello!!! this was meant to be a drabble but as you can see it spiralled out of control lmao. i got a little hyper fixated (and grew a really bad crush on this taehyung) so it ended up being way longer than i initially thought! regardless, i hope you all enjoy it as much as i did writing it!!

18+ -> minors / blank blogs dni

The Kim Empire.

Your home, your family, your livelihood all wrapped up in those three little words.

They practically brandish your mind, have been since you were no more than a babe. Stuck in the clutches of everything Kim since you were born. Your mother a maid, your father gone from the face of the earth. At least as far as you are concerned he is, anyway.

He is better off dead. The alternative of him living scott free in some far off land, meanwhile you have to serve the hand and foot of the king sets no more than the bitter taste of coffee beans against your gums.

Bedding your mother, no more than a fresh-faced maid at the time. Outcasting her the second after when he had to have known the rules of the palace. The demise it would cost both her and her future daughter. Perhaps every generation that followed as well– if there were to be any, that is.

Housestaff are not meant to have relationships. They are meant to serve the king and his bountiful family. How are you meant to do anything else with a child bouncing at your hip, a husband grabbing at your ass.

You’ve heard the speech plenty of times. The words ingrained in your skull just as the brand you received when you were far too young to remember the pain of it. Evidence that you are bound to the palace by blood until the very moment you take your last breath.

The punishment for becoming pregnant within the walls of the palace are simple: your child belongs to them. For anything within the Kim Estate is their rightful property, given to them by the grace of god.

You, a gift from god to serve the empire. You would snort at the notion if training from a young age prohibited it. You are just a result of your mothers kindness, her naivety.

You could never find it within your heart to blame her. She was just a girl who thought she was in love. Fired for her love. Had her daughter taken from her to serve for her love.

Love is something you will never be granted the property of.

You will be granted an allowance to send home to your mother to keep her afloat. You will be granted a room to sleep in, clothes to wear, food to eat. A secure job in which you can never be fired– well. That is a lie. Though, your termination would come at the end of an axe, rather than a piece of paper.

You used to muse at the thought– when you were a young girl, no more than 11 or 12. Going through your melancholy years, hating the rest of the world for simply existing. For putting you in a position where you could not change your fate, instead had to endure your present. Feeling like a girl trapped in a tower just like the bedtime stories had always prescribed.

One time you had caused such a ruckus in front of the oldest Kim son you really did think you were going to get the axe. Hell, you were even prepared for it. Locked away in a cell for two nights, brought before the executor.

Right before the swing was meant to be brought down against your neck the head maid ran into the room, gave some sort of letter to the man. She apologised profusely, gripping your ear and dragging you away from the scene.

You hadn’t acted ary since then. It taught you your place. Made you realise the need to survive buried deep within your bones. In the innate way some sort of wildcat would lash out until it was bloodied and on its last breath.

You would not die at the end of a knife. You’d live your life, acting a maid until you could die peacefully of old age. Even if it meant surrendering yourself to servitude for the most annoying brat you’ve ever laid eyes on.

A quiet sigh slips past your lips at the mere thought of him. The sound would get you punished if anyone were to hear, especially in respect to the coveted crown prince of the kingdom. Few share the same opinion as you of him– but then again most that work here aren’t forced.

It is only when the stars are strung high in the sky that you allow yourself to feel such things. When you stay awake past the beginning of rest hours, most of the staff (save for the night shift) falling to sleep hours prior. Only then when you’re out in the gardens do you allow indignation to satiate your brain.

For the few hours of freedom you may hold dear until the next morning begins and you are forced to live the same day once more. Over and over again until the end of time.

Your fingertips reach out as you walk, bruised from the scrubbing of floors, to find purchase against the walls of flowers rimming the maze. Rough fingertips dance against the gentle petals of roses, lulling in the feeling. Picking themselves against the thorns without much of a thought, not withdrawing. Only pausing feet to observe.

How can something so delicate and beautiful wish to cause harm? It does not. It simply desires a way to survive. You could never fault it for that.

“Pretty, are they not?” A dark, husky voice sends cold down your spine. Hairs become on edge, back straightens taught, ears perk just as if you are an obedient dog. Fear flashing through your entire being.

You do not wish to turn around. Do not have any want to face the man that has caught the air in your lungs. The one catching you in the garden without any proper attire in place. Though you must. You must bow, grovel at his feet for forgiveness for allowing him to see you in your nightgown. For not being in bed as you should.

Prince Kim has never been known for being kind.

Your body acts for you while your mind sets on pause– taking several steps forward, bending your body at the hips to give a proper 90 degree bow. Your hands clasp before you, hair coming down in front of your face.

“Prince Kim–” You rush, suddenly out of breath, “Please forgive my insolence. I-I am not of right attire or mind to be standing in front of his excellency right now. Nor should I be excused for touching the property of the palace. I have no proper excuse and any punishment you decide will be deserving. Please forgive me.” The words recite from your lips like a bible– instruction of them being heard time and time again.

Cold night air whips at your ankles, fluttering the gown around your ankles. The chill only adding to the cold sweat you’ve discovered has perspired. Making your hair dance around your shoulders.

You expect something, anything really. A slap, a single word. Though there is only silence in response. Silence that extends far too long and feels far too pungent for your taste. If he was going to do something, you rather he just get it over with.

After what feels like an eternity, you finally hear the baritone of his voice once more.

“Pretty, are they not?” He asks again, repeating the same sentiments as before. Confusion bristles through as a kite in the summer air. Why is he asking you this? Is he not annoyed he caught a maid in such a level of disrobement? What is he trying to gain? What does he want?

All the questions you do not have any hope to answer rush through you causing you to feel confused and incomposed. Every boring lesson you were forced to sit through never taught you how to deal with this exact situation. You aren’t sure what he wants, nor your place in the garden. The thought scares you.

Against your better judgement, you allow your chin to tilt up only slightly. Only enough to look at the man– to try and read the expression on his face so you can better analyse your next action.

The shock you feel when you find his face is only inches from your own, frame bent down to make his eyes level with yours is something you cannot explain in words alone.

You would prefer to scream and run, however that is not an option at this moment, or so it appears. Instead, your eyes only widen in shock, in trepidation. Your mouth opens into a small ‘o’ as you stare.

Never before have you made eye contact with a member of the family. Never before have you had the luxury to view one so close. In any other circumstance, you suppose, you would surely be punished for such a thing. Someone lower should never view a future king in such a way.

You wish you could say he was a heinous, ugly beast for hatred of the palace alone. Yet you can’t, for he isn’t. He is beautiful.

Sure, you knew that already. Paintings of him are plastered across the walls– his face is everywhere eyes are able to reach. Yet this close, at this angle, you can’t stop the way your heart skips a beat. Can’t help but admire every facet of his complexion before being thrown in front of the lion again.

A gorgeous, blinding smile wipes across his face the moment you face him. Lips forming into an adorable box after he finally has your attention fully drawn on him. You’re startled back once again, sending your brain into a further whirlwind than before.

He desires an answer.

“I um… Yes. I suppose they are.” You nod slowly in response, following in his footsteps as he returns to full height.

You must follow his lead– it is how you will survive.

You usher a stray lock of hair over your shoulder, trying to stop it from hitting your face. The air starts to become stale again, feeling empty in the lack of his reply. It is awkward, and the way he stares at you, eyes darting around your face– your figure, has you feeling in some sort of girlish, embarrassed way.

You think you dislike the feeling.

“Are you a fan of roses?” His arms are pulled behind him, wrapped together as he bounces on his toes in something that looks like… boyish delight? The muddle of your brain can't help to understand a single thing. He is making no sense, trying to make conversation with you. Trying to find a morsel of companionship in someone who is meant to bow to him like he is the true god of your mortal plain.

You will have to oblige until he allows you to depart.

“I suppose so.”

He frowns. Try again.

“I adore them, the palace always has the most gorgeous petals all year round.” You smile at him, hoping it masks any discomfort you feel.

The smile returns to his own lips as he begins to walk. Tilting his head to you as a cue to join him. You try to keep your paces a few behind his own, a maid should never walk beside a member of the family. Though he only slows in response, matching your gate even though it is obvious he hates having to slow down.

Why is he behaving in this manner? It makes no sense to you.

“The flower of devotion.” He nods, breaking the silence once more and keeping his eyes straight ahead.

You almost want to admire his profile– the gentle curve of his nose, yet you refrain. Training your eyes ahead, keeping your fingers laced in front of you. Trying to look as put together as possible at this moment.

“Is it?” You quiz, unable to take the awkward silence anymore. He doesn’t seem to mind it. Unbothered, tucking his hands into the pockets of his loose, flowing sleep pants.

“Of many other things, as well.” He nods, sending a slight smile at you.

“I don’t know much about the language of flowers.” Though it feels wrong to be talking with Prince Kim so casually, you try your best. The more you give in, mayhaps the sooner he’ll bore and the faster you will be able to run from the cage.

“Tell me your favourite, maybe I can tell you its meaning.” He pauses and you find yourself at the foot of the gazebo. He reaches out his hand, offering to help you up the small stairs of it.

All over again you find yourself taken aback. The prince is requesting that you touch him, not for his service, but your own. He desires to help you. Is for some reason treating you like a lady.

You don’t understand it, yet with great hesitation you oblige. You place your hand on his much larger one, allowing it to encase it. Help you up the stairs.

“I don’t know many…” You hope he cannot hear the hesitation in your tone, “Though I’ve always been fond of lilies.” You tell him, attempting to pull your hand away from his own as you reach the top.

He doesn’t allow it, keeping your small palm tight in his own. Fear trickles in once more, circling around your heart, constricting it.

You knew you shouldn’t have trusted him in the slightest. It is here where you shall face punishment for all the previous misdemeanours committed. White stone shall be painted with red and you will be left to your own devices to clean up the mess.

Your lungs start to take in more air, though of course you try to disguise it. Turning around to face him, to discover why he has kept you held firm, air is leaving your lungs for another reason entirely.

He holds your hand close, examining your fingers. Tilting it back and forth, smoothing his thumb over the back of your skin. If he takes note of the little dots of red, he doesn’t make comment of it. He only curls his fingers upwards, hooking against your own. Bringing your hand up to his lips as if it was the most delicate thing on earth. Staring at them with a passion you doubt you’ve ever seen before.

“Rebirth.” His breath fans across your knuckles, slowly lowering to place a gentle kiss against the skin. His lips are soft, so gentle against your weary flesh. So full of safety, so full of song.

When he retracts, he pulls away no more than a millimeter, though his grip tightens.

“Purity.”

Your first meeting with the prince had left you with a flurry of emotions, none of which you could hope to syphon through. For hours he kept you in the gazebo, sitting with you. Talking until it appeared the sun was cresting over the horizon.

He refused to release your hand the entire time. His fingers playing with your own, perhaps obsessed with the feeling of your tiny hand laced with his own pristine skin. Did not pay any attention the several times you tried to excuse yourself, only changing the subject of conversation to try and keep you in place.

It was strange. Confusing. You did not understand the reasoning or cause behind any of his actions.

Well, at least until the next morning while you were scrubbing the floors. Your friend Annabell cleaning right by your side. Catching up, gossiping about the new recruits found in the manner. It is only times like these when you actually get the chance to talk, to giggle with someone meant to be your equal in both age and house status.

The only chance you’re truly able to forget about the fact she is able to leave once her contract expires. But it does not matter– any small amount of spite you hold is slashed away by her kind smile. The understanding in her eyes as she treats you like just another maid set to work for the king instead of a captive.

It is only after the 7th yawn of the morning she asks about the poorly covered bags under your eyes. You had gone to bed with the rest of the girls, there is no reason you should be so tired. You never appear to be, at least it is not shown around others.

You struggle with yourself for a moment, trying to decide whether the night before was meant to be kept as a closely guarded secret to your chest. Yet one look at your closest confidant had you spilling everything.

The entire night– the stars, the flowers, the way he prattled on. How tight he gripped your dirty, calloused hand against his pristine soft ones.

You feel strange speaking of it, remembering it in any way. It causes your cheeks to heat and a fury to settle below your ribs.

It is a strange feeling, yet not an entirely unwanted one.

Your eyes train to the floor as you spill your soul, unable to keep it in once it starts pouring out. You try to keep your tone as neutral as possible– to tell her about the night as if it was a simple news story you heard from a guard. Though, you’re unsure of your success in the matter.

A poised laugh leaves the lips of your counter, her eyes cresting into half-moons.

“You cannot be serious right? You tell stories.” She giggles, shaking her head before continuing her assault on the floor.

You simply shake your own.

“It happened, I was as shocked in the moment as you seem to be now.” She lets out a small bellow of giggles once again.

“No, no. I believe it happened entirely. I’m only talking about the fluster of your face.” She giggles, lifting her rag and shaking it for dramatic effect. You roll your eyes, cracking a small smile.

“There is no such thing.” You laugh knowing that there is.

“Oh my heavens. Y/n, you cannot tell me you’ve grown fond of the Prince, have you?” Her words are hushed now, much more so than before. As if someone may be listening to the conversation.

You tense in reply, unsure of the answer yourself. The closest you’ve ever felt to fondness of another man was a stable boy a few years back. Only 17 at the time, head wrapped in romance novels that you didn’t entirely understand. He was handsome and he was kind. However just as you were starting to become closer to him, he was sent away to work at another palace.

You had not been optimistic since then.

She takes your silence as an answer in itself. Moving towards you, gripping your shoulders and hauling you to sit on your haunches. Forcing you to look at her face as she speaks.

“You cannot be serious.” She repeats again, hoping for any sign of doubt. All she receives is bewilderment in reply, “Y/n. You can never trust Prince Kim.”

You sigh, “I know, Anne, I–” You’re cut off with her own voice again.

“No, not in the way you’re imagining.” She sighs, letting her hands drop from your shoulders to continue scrubbing at the floor. Making work of herself as she speaks, “The other maids don’t tell you of much, do they?”

You can’t deny it. Your seclusion within the castle walls is only partly of your own design.

Other maids do not feel as though they can trust you, seeing as you are full property of the crown. In their eyes, you hold not a crumb of loyalty to your own kind. Few maids speak to you like Annabell does for fear the second they say anything wrong you are going to tell the world.

You would never, though your word is worth its weight in feathers to them.

“They don’t care for me as you do… no…” You admit, continuing to clean as well. She already knew the answer, letting out an exhale before she speaks.

“Prince Kim has a pension for… debauchery… I shall say,” She flinches at her own words, yet doesn’t know a better way to put it, “The variety in which he uses pretty words to seduce young ladies to bed with him. Royalty from other lands, general’s daughters, maids. It matters not. He likes them for the night then pretends they shall never exist again.”

Each word she speaks sends another stab into your gut. A dull pain blooming from the same places which a swirling was forming before.

Ah. It all makes sense now.

“Oh.”

“He has a particular fondness for the other maids, you know. Bedding them without a second thought.” A grimace forms on your friend's lips, scrubbing harder into the already shining floors, “There is no reason to form any sort of affection for that man. It will only end with his seed inside your core and a knife in your heart.”

Yes, everything she is saying makes perfect sense. You feel almost stupid to not see it before. Maybe you just didn’t want to see it– want to think about it in any sort of fashion. But this makes much more sense than the crown prince wanting to speak to you for any other purpose. Explains why he was acting as a true gentleman to someone so much lower than him.

However, you find that it does not take away the cavernous pit that has formed in your gut.

“I see, I have no desire for either.” You nod your head in understanding, not sure of what else to say. “I don’t understand why he’s taken an interest in me, though.”

She gawks, “I don’t understand why it has taken him so long to in the first place.” She shakes her head.

“Nevertheless, it doesn’t matter. Y/n, you must promise me. You will not fall for him, nor give any part of yourself to him. He is not someone that will care for you like you deserve.” She states, blue eyes piercing icicles into your own. She is determined and will not relent until you agree.

“I do not wish to. Not after hearing all of…” You make some sort of motion with your hand, “that. Anyone would be a fool to like him.”

You nod your head while Annabell smiles in agreement.

“Good.”

Those are the last words you exchange with anyone for hours. The rest of the day passed by with lightning, an endless turnstile of things to take care of. A ball was to be held soon meaning the castle would be a wreck for the next few days. Too much planning, cleaning, sewing, coordination had to take place before anyone could rest.

Honestly, you were grateful for it. A break from thinking was much needed. As is a good night’s rest.

You sigh, already imagining how lovely it would feel to pull off your shoes for the day. Peel the cotton off your body and replace your dress with something more comfortable.

Oo! Hopefully enough warm water will be left for a quick bath. That would be just wonderful, your muscles would be able to unfurl. The perfect thing to lull you into a glorious sleep.

Your arms stretch over your head as you finish descending the staircase into the maid hallways. Bones in your back pop from the pressure, causing a sigh to make its way from your lungs. Your nimble fingers make their way to the ribbon holding your hair in place, untying it and allowing the tresses to fall.

Soon you would be in the maid resting quarters– your appearance would matter not there anyway.

You send small smiles to other staff members passing you, those that have either just woken for the night or those who still have work to do. Yet in return, each one of them just stares at you with an incredulous look. Turning and whispering to their friends as if you were not still in front of them.

You can’t help to understand why. Those around you may not have considered you a friend, but they were never rude. Always polite when need be. It has you feeling strange, some type of nervousness as you get closer and closer to the hallway extending to the maids personal rooms.

Rounding the corner, you discover exactly why.

His frame looks entirely out of place standing there. A perfect, pristine picture in a hallway of drab, illuminated only by the lanterns hanging on the wall. Royal blue tunic draped on his shoulders only emphasising his status.

He looks as though he was never meant to be here. Like a mistake was made along the cobblestone walls. No, he looks as though he is meant to be among the living. Not in your dreary, windowless life. Nothing could change that.

You stand there frozen, a deer caught in the lanturn of a hunting party. A pounding of your heart, as well as the dark swell of your gut coming back to life. Why is he here? Why the hell does he have a bouquet of flowers?!

You wish to scream, but you don’t. You have already been caught.

His eyes look up from where he created a small pile of dirt on the floor. His face coming alight in an instant, pushing himself to full stature from where he once leaned against the wall. Long legs making their way towards you while he suddenly has the decency to hide the bouquet behind his back.

Annabell certainly did not mention this method of Prince Kim’s seduction. You had never seen him down here before.

“Hi.” Is all he says once he is finally face to face with you. His face bright and youthful. Excited.

It seems all formalities have been dropped in his mind, though you refuse the notion.

“Prince Kim.” You simply reply, lowering yourself in a curtsy.

He pays no mind, almost pretending you never did it in the first place. Instead, he simply rocks back and forth on his heels, bouncing slightly in delight. Wanting something, unable to voice it.

“To what do I owe the pleasure?” You ask, hoping to end the encounter swiftly to stop all of the prying eyes leering into your being.

“I brought you something.” His eyes do not break contact with yours once and you can see his hand twitch by his side as if it wants to reach out for something. You're glad he has the decency to hold back, so you shall do the same by pretending you never saw the flowers in the first place.

You choose not to ask yourself why he brought you a present. It must just be a trick of seduction.

“I am honoured to accept such a thing.” You send a small smile his way, something between real and fake. It seems to make him beam.

His arm comes out from behind, holding the flowers between both of your bodies. You look down at them, shock written across your features.

Sure, you had noted them as flowers before. But you think these may be the prettiest ones you’ve seen in your whole life. Petals of orange, white, and purple cloud in your eyes. Stomatas filled with the sweet pollen.

Lilies. All different kinds– ones you’ve never seen before.

They’re out of season, at least you think they are. How did he get these? Why is he giving them to you? Why is he trying to get the butterflies to return? Why is he trying to make your heart explode?

“Prince Kim…” You’re not sure what to say– instead gently reaching out to feel the velvet of a petal. Staring intently at their colours, unable to pull your eyes away.

“They’re beautiful, aren’t they?” His voice is a husk of a whisper, as if you’re the only two in the hallway. As if other maids are not passing, as if they are not staring at the two of you.

“Yes… I… I’m not sure what to say.” It is all so hypnotic.

“Thank you would be a good beginning, no?” His smile is soft, a light chuckle present in the tone.

You pause, tilting your head to look up at him fully– a large, real smile donning your lips.

“Yes. Thank you.”

You feel as if you are floating, just as you would when reading those romance books in your late teen years. Like the world has stopped moving save for the prince in front of you slowly passing the flowers into your arms.

Your hands brush against each other and you feel his fingers twitch, tightening ever so slight. Wishing to grab onto your hand just as he had done the night before. Wishing to insect every line that traces over your fresh once more.

However, he refrains. Allowing his ringed fingers to sink themselves into his pockets.

“I was just going to have them delivered. I’m not really meant to be down here, you know,” His smile is shy, “But I didn’t know your room. That, and I wanted to see you again.”

You look down, unable to keep the eye contact he presses you for. Prince Kim is too much for you. You don’t understand how he couldn’t be too much for anyone.

“Oh…” You’re a flush, “Thank you for saying that.”

“It is nothing to thank me for.” He chuckles, bangs dimming the hues of his eyes, “I’m sure I bored you with all of my ramblings.”

He did, partly, but that was more discombobulation for the situation and a sense of tiredness creeping into your bones. You shake your head quickly.

“Of course not. I had.. Fun.” Mayhaps fun isn’t the right term, yet there is no word that exactly describes your emotions of last night, nor the ones of today.

“As did I.” His lips are tight in a smile again, feet bouncing on their heels once more. He’s nervous, wants to say something again but isn’t sure how.

You’re not sure how to feel about learning what that habit means. Not sure how to feel about what any of this means. You have not had a moment alone to truly dissect what all of it is.

“I would love to spend the night talking to you again, if you would allow me.” You don’t think you would love anything more, yet you know you would not be able to function. Would probably make a fool of yourself, too.

“I-I think it would be best if I were to get some rest… I had not even an hour before I had to start working last night.”

He frowns, “That’s not good for your health…” He pauses, searching your face for any signs of distress, “Then let's talk in your room. I will only stay until you sleep.”

You pause, air drifting back into your lungs.

Ah. Right.

The words of your friend sink in once again, breaking you out of whatever trance he had put you under. Whatever spell he laced through both of your ears to have you singing songs of praises for him and the crown.

He wants you as a notch in a bedpost. Nothing more. It is clear as day and you are a fool to think anything other than that. This is all just a cleverly rehearsed show. You will not fall victim like your mother.

All royalty is the same. Use use use. Beat a dead horse until it stops coughing up any sort of reprise.

Your posture is suddenly tense, fist gripping the flowers so tight your knuckles appear white.

How dare he think so low of you. How dare he think he might be able to fuck you for nothing.

“Men are not allowed in the women's private quarters.” Your voice is staunch, though it is not as if he can tell nor cares.

If he does, he doesn’t show it.

“Ah,” The lilt is still evident in his tone, the cat playing with the mouse, “But I am not any man, am I?” His body leans a bit closer, pulling his face parallel to your own. Smirk playing on his lips.

Beauty is a deceptive thing, isn’t it? “When I am king I’ll make it so I can see you whenever we both desire.” Something heats in your gut at those words, yet anger quells it just as fast.

“It is a shame that you are not King yet, then.” You nod politely in his direction, trying to excuse yourself. Yet your words only seem to excite something in his eyes, lighting a fire behind them.

“My, I didn’t know you felt that way.” He smiles coy. A flustered sensation overcomes you as you realise the double meaning behind your words. You had made it sound like you wanted him in that way when that could not be farther from the truth.

“I do not.” You state, your voice ice. Though once again, it seems that it does not pierce him.

“There is no reason to be so cold, Y/n.” He sing songs, tapping one of his long fingers against the side of his head.

“I am not being cold! You are just not listening.” You sigh in exasperation. Exhaustion and annoyance make you forget yourself, causing your volume to rise just as his own does. This only seems to excite him more.

“I have heard enough.” He giggles, boyish and what others would describe as cute. Right before you’re able to argue back once again, he cuts in with his own voice once more.

“I will leave you for now. Find a pretty place for the flowers.”

He smiles generously at you, beginning to walk away, “Have a good night. I’ll see you soon.”

In your shamble of a disposition, you’re left stuck there. Staring at his back as he retreats down the hallway.

The shock of everything that had just transpired coming over you all at once. How poorly you had behaved. How you spoke to him. He could have you killed for any one of those things however instead he left you with a bouquet of flowers and a promise for another night.

You scramble to find yourself, to move yourself from out of the eyeline of every other maid. To make your way to your room, your one sanctuary as quickly as possible.

It is only when you’re in those walls, hard oak door shut firmly beside you that you have to remind yourself of your promise to your best friend. Remember that the prince fights his battles with words and emotions.

Your second meeting with the man had left you even more confused than the first. Thousands of questions and emotions real through your bones at a pace your brain can’t manage to understand. Leaves you fuming, trying to form a single coherent thought as you analyse the last two nights with a ferocity unimagined.

In your state, however, you neglect to think of the one question that should be dancing before you, held on a string just out of reach.

Why did he know your name?

It is apparent that since that night, Prince Kim has located which room you find habitance in.

This morning, another letter has found itself slipped under the base of your door. They have become commonplace now– letters detailing apologies for why he was unable to visit, what he had gone about on his day, his regrets that he has not heard back from you in what feels like ages.

He’s tried to speak to you a few times in the palace when you work. His eyes always trained on you with something you’re unable to describe when you clean nearby.

You wish you could say it was perverse in manner, but it was nothing of the sort.

Every once and awhile you would catch a lily pinned to his breast pocket. He would send you a secret smile whenever it caught your attention. As if it was a tale meant for only the two of you to know. As if he wanted to carry a portion of you with him.

You may be naive in saying so, nor do you have much experience in the matter, but these do not feel like the actions of a man who simply wishes to find home under your dress. These feel more personal. More extravagant than anything else.

Nevertheless, you ignore every single advance. Annabell made you promise, and it was a promise you were intent on keeping until your dying breath.

Put the letters away in a box, never to be responded to. Avoided looking at him whenever he was near. Rushed out of rooms when it appeared he was intent on making his war for you.

Icing out the prince is what is best. Whatever lilies he will wilt and die and you will be able to continue on with your hatred of the Kim family as well as your blood pact with the throne.

You only wish it was that easy.

“Y/n!! Miss Y/n!!” There is a scramble outside of the door, voices hailing for your presence. You don’t know why– you’re on wash duty. Anyone, unless they’re extraordinarily new, would know that.

The voice grows more erratic, more panicked. As if their life depends on finding you in that very moment. The other maids in the quarters send their glaces to you, urging you to go yet not one opens their mouths.

At least one bonus of endenturing your entire life to the palace is that you have grown in rank. More than 10 years has granted you a decent position.

A hushed sigh slips past your lips and your hands find themselves forcing the pile of sheets into the washing tub. Your hands quickly wipe away at your apron, ridding them of any moisture before pushing open the door.

Stepping into the hallway lined with stone you notice only a single girl. Her entire form shaking as she paces the hall– panicked. Blonde curls bouncing with every step, cheeks a fluster.

A new recruit, indeed. Celley is the name she wears.

She had just entered with the last batch of new maids, starting at the palace no more than 2 months ago. She was a recruit you were unsure of– not having a lick of grace or balance, nor any experience with serving. But you suppose there are many reasons maids are chosen.

You do not like to think of them.

Her feet are suddenly clamouring over to you, noticing your presence for the first time since you’ve stepped in the hallway. Her small, shaking hands grip your shoulders, holding you with all the will she seems to possess.

“Excuse me have you seen–” She stops herself, tiny pants pausing as her eyes go wide, “Oh my days! Miss Y/n! You must hurry!” She rushes, hand gripping your wrist as she tries to pull you away.

Though your face twists in confusion, your feet remain firm.

“What’s the matter?” You ask, both sympathy and concern entering your frame. You can admonish her later for her lack of manners, however now, the girl seems truly frightened. Her large steel eyes looking back at you, pleading.

“The crown prince! He’s!” She’s out of breath once again, continuing to try and urge you on.

This time, the second the word prince is muttered, you begin to follow her pace, “He’s lost his mind! He’s going on a firing spree! Locking up anyone who tries to calm him!”

“What? Why is that? Did something happen?” You ask hushed, urging the girl to keep her voice down. Though you both are similar in age, it is apparent who has experienced this type of thing before.

“He got into some kind of spat with his father. His instructor was fired when he tried to continue on with their lesson.” It seems she understood your message, continuing to hurry you down the halls.

“And what am I meant to do?”

“I-I don’t know!” She lets out a quiet yelp, pulling you closer as you exit the maid hallways and enter the palace ones, “His personal maid is away visiting family. She said to leave everything to you if something were to happen! I-I didn’t know what else to do!”

Damn Eleanor and everything she stands for. Why the hell did she have to bring your name into this?! Shouldn’t the head maid be called in times like this?! Not you, someone who wants nothing to do with any member of the royal family. Especially the crown prince himself. Sure, there must be rumours spreading around but you had managed nearly three weeks without speaking to him!

You let out a sigh, squaring your shoulders in an attempt to appear more confident, more put together. You will do this, and you will come out victorious. Every battle before has left you victor. What is one more?

“I understand. It will be dealt with.”

The least you can gain is the idyllic picture of the prince to be shattered forever. That would be the most ideal outcome, something to truly force him out of your heart for good. You will not fall prey to him and his earthly desires. He will not win your heart.

At least that is what you hope.

The throne room's doors stand before you, delicate lacings of gold worth more than your entire being etched into its surface. A glittering picture for what is sure to be a bloodbath behind its contents.

A deep inhale of warm air fills your lungs, hand pressing against the door as you force it open. Face someone you have not wanted to see nor extinguish the flames of in nearly a month.

He stands before you, 20 paces ahead. A broken bottle in his hand as he heaves, shoulders rising and falling with the passion of ten thousand suns. The look of murder in his eyes as he stares down at a maid, her form on the ground. Bowing with as much might as she can possess, looking for any exit possible. Few other maids stand around the room, keeping their heads low, avoiding any eye contact possible.

Though he looks like a mad man– mayhaps a god of war himself, not a single hair is out of place on his head. He is still the picture of sovereignty. And though your breath spikes, you find that you are not afraid.

What a strange feeling it is.

The creak of the door sends single to him, has him whipping his head to face you. Anger etched into his features, a new target befalling his sight.

You stand tall, moving towards him. You will rise to the position given to you, even if it shall mean your inevitable downfall. As long as the new staff are safe.

Only, when he looks to you, no wrath is found. No anger or deceit. The second his eyes meet your own, his expression drops along with the bottle in his hands. More glass littering the floor in its wake.

His eyes soften, his lips turning from a sneer into a gentle frown. His shoulders automatically lower, and suddenly it appears that there is no one else in the room. His legs move automatically, carrying themselves to you with such a hurried pace you would have thought he had seen a long lost friend.

Oddly, this scares you more than when he was angered.

You start into a bow, “Prince Kim, I’ve come in place of–”

His arms wrap themselves around you before you can speak another word. Pulling you in, wrapping you into his scent as you're pressed against his sturdy chest. Strong arms keep you in place as he tries to make his body become one with your own.

His face buries itself into the crook of your neck, one hand raising to tie itself in your hair. It forces you to stay in place, stay attached to him just the way he wants you to be. Allows him to inhale, breathing in all of you. Finally delving into the scent that he has been craving.

Your eyes only widen, hands staying firm at your side in shock. Heart beginning to race, head becoming lost in the soaps that only a member of a family could possibly own.

You’re not sure what to do. How to behave. As far as you are concerned or aware, this is something that no other has had happen before. At least not so openly. Not so brazenly in front of a myriad of other people.

But, it seems to calm him. To placate him in a way you’re not sure anyone could explain.

You try to make a small twisting motion with your hand, try to urge everyone else to leave while they have the chance.

They seem to take it, exiting the room as fast as possible.

You’re sure word of this will spread throughout the castle quickly. You hope the consequences will not be dire.

“Prince Kim–” You begin to speak after everyone has cleared out, after he holds you for what feels like a lifetime. You can’t find it in you to want him to pull away, no matter how embarrassing this seems.

“Shh,” He quickly silences you with a gentle press of his lips to your pulse, “Let me stay like this for a moment.”

You are unable to move. Unable to breathe after he kisses you. War could begin in that very moment and you’re not sure you would have noticed in the slightest. You are stunned into obeying his whim as he simply inhales and exhales.

The umber in his voice only comes after a millennia, after his shoulders have completely sagged. After all the tension is removed from his body.

“You didn’t respond to my letters.” He still doesn’t pull away, his grip on your hair tightening a fraction.

You pause.

“I…I didn’t know where to send them.” You lie and his hand loosens. The correct answer.

“My study. Put them under the door to my study.” He instructs like a king would.

You’re not sure why the tone of his voice sends shocks to your gut. Pooling into something you only find in your dreams.

“But if someone were to see them–”

“Let them.” Mumbles in your ear to you and you alone, a growl practically spiking through his voice, “I want them to know.”

Oh. This is new. This is definitely new. This is not the same way you felt with the stable boy years ago. This has become something entirely alienating. A completely different beast. You know that now as his baritone voice sends waves straight through your gut.

You simply nod in reply, your mouth unwilling to say anything back. The arm around your lower back grows more firm.

“Tell me where you will put your replies.” He commands into your ear.

“Under the door to your study.” Your reply is automatic, years of answering to the kingdom evident in your tone.

He sighs, unfurling his fingers from your locks to gently pet the top of your head, “Good girl.”

He presses a kiss to your forehead, soft as he touches you.

“Good lamb.”

You sigh, fingers deftly searching through your wardrobe for just a single pair of underwear. But once again, you turn up empty. It seems like every day that passes, another pair disappears without your knowledge.

Perhaps one of the new girls is causing a fuss, messing up the laundry for everyone else.

That is the only logical solution, at least.

But logic doesn’t seem to make much sense at all anymore. You couldn’t hope to understand why few of your other belongings have come up indignant as well.

Your favourite perfume, one of your stuffed animals, even your toothbrush! All have magically vanished from thin air over the course of the last week.

It is too bad that you haven’t had the time to think about it, either. Preparations for the ball have been raging throughout the palace. Everyone has been on their toes, unwilling to face the wrath of the planners as they try to make everything perfect.

You have had not one moment alone to think, either swept up in cleaning, decorating, or well… recently you and the prince have been going on walks through the garden at night. Though that doesn’t matter much. It doesn’t mean anything– just another thing he made you promise to. Claiming he wishes to spend as much time with you as he can.

His recent fixation is trying to get you to call him by his true name.

You would never dare, nothing is more inappropriate than such a title. It is something only his most beloved is meant to call him, and that person is certainly not you.

You try to force any thoughts of him out of your head, though it is clearly a fruitless endeavour. Especially with the dream you had the night prior.

His hands finding themselves between your legs, touching you in a way no other has.

You flush, quickly shaking all thoughts of the night away.

The tea! Your tea, yes. A prescription from the doctor for this very thing.

More often than not, you wake to find a mess between your thighs. Sticky arousal between them in a perverse fashion. The region sensitive and overstimulated combined with a mess of dreams. More sexual in nature than ever before.

Embarrassed, you had turned to the only person you could trust. The palace staff’s doctor.

She had told you it was normal– that you were simply having what she described as ‘wet-dreams’. The title alone made you feel embarrassed.

Nevertheless, she prescribed you a tea to help calm your nerves. It was meant to be passifying in nature, calming any lush desires you may have beginning to form.

You were not sure how it functioned, however you trusted her. Found that it quelled whatever fire burned inside of your heart for the time being.

Perhaps just a new oddity to add to your reality, you suppose.

Finally, you find a proper set of undergarments to pull over your legs. Letting out a breath in relief now that you finally have them.

Today is going to be busier than the last month combined– the ball is tonight. You know for a fact you will be rushed around the palace all day, fixing everything into an acute sense of perfection that only the Kim family is known for.

You reach to spray your second favourite perfume across your skin, only to find that the bottle has gone missing as well.

Your hairs stand on edge, a dark pit forming in your stomach.

It is all too strange for you to want to understand.

Okay, now you’re sure Annabell must be wrong. She has to be, right? There is no other conclusion possible.

The thoughts run through your head as you pace the small confines of your room. Thumb between your lips, biting the skin feverishly. Contemplating what it is exactly that you should do. A heavy box sitting on your bed, a letter laying next to it along with a single lily.

A month ago, you met Prince Kim in the gardens. A month ago you spoke to him all night long. A month ago he brought you flowers. He has been leaving you letters ever since. Three weeks ago he held you in his arms, made you promise to write him back. Made you promise to meet him in the gardens as many nights as you can.

But this, you could not accept. You could not possibly think this is real. Why has he gifted you something like this?

A dress lays on your bed. The most gorgeous dress you have ever seen, in fact. Lined with crystals and gems, many layers of tulle poof from the underskirt. It must’ve cost a fortune, but it was not meant for you. It is a dress meant for a princess, not a simple maid of the palace. Not… Not someone the prince simply wanted to bed.

So why did it lie here, along with a lace mask and a pair of shoes. Why did it come with a note from the Prince, telling you to put it on for tonight's events? Is this why the head maid dismissed you so early?

No. You could not. You will not make a fool of yourself. You do not belong up there, dressed as a princess when you are far from the thing. That is your decision. It will be the one you stick to.

Even as hours tick past on the clock, even as you can hear the night in full swing, you stay locked in your room. Feeling the same as you did when you were a girl locked in the dungeon all those years ago. Helpless, indignant, stubborn.

Lost in your thoughts as you try to piece together a puzzle that has several spaces missing. Feelings for the stable boy– life with him, it would have been easier than this. You’re sure of it.

You allow yourself to imagine what life could have been like if he stayed. It would have been a cosy, peaceful. A straightforward one that didn’t leave so many questions in your head. Jungkook was always like that, spoke his mind without leaving anything to be guessed. You adored it, wished you could revel in it now. Wish you could kiss him under the cherry tree once more.

A pounding wakes you from the dream you were just beginning to weave. Loud, angry knuckles against the firm oak of your door startling you to your feet in an instant. Chills running down your spine as if your body already knew who was behind it.

You wait too long to reply, another series of rapts following in quick succession. You’re in trouble. You’ve angered the prince in a way you’re not sure you’ll be able to find your way out of, but you have no choice. He knows your inside. You know you must face him. You must be brave.

Right before another series of knocks can echo against the walls, you finally pull the door open.

There stands the man you knew would be there all along, sculpted like the lord had made him himself. You wish you could behold him properly, to stare at his beauty in the suit specially prepared for this night. One he asked your opinion of several times during its construction.

But you are unable to, not when his shoulders heave like a bull planning its charge. Not when his eyes are narrowed into a glare that enters your soul without consequence. Never before had you felt his anger directed at you.

The future king would be a fearsome thing.

“It appears you are not dead.” He states, cold and detached in a way you have never heard before. It makes you feel small, feel weak. Though by now, you know he wants an answer. He will not accept the lack of one from you anymore.

You shift uncomfortably on your feet, “I suppose not…”

“Then what do you suppose.” You flinch. You’re not sure.

“I– Prince Kim…”

“Taehyung.” He interjects, though you ignore him. Only his future wife is meant to call him by that name.

“Prince Kim, I could not possibly accept this gift. You have to understand.” The way he looks at you makes you want to shrink. To appear as small as possible to placate the lion you’ve wondered into the den of.

“I do not. You are to accept any gift I am to give you.” He is stern as if lecturing the ground beneath him. He looks massive in your tiny room, taking up much more space than you wish to grant him.

You begin to grow frustrated, annoyed. Does he have no sanity? Does he really think it is okay to play with the hearts of women so carelessly? It is disgusting. Repulsive even! You do not deserve anything like this. You begin to grow tense, grow firm like a wolf cornered. Ready to lash out with no remorse.

That is what you are, anyway. A cornered animal with no hope to escape.

“I won’t.” You raise your shoulders, stand taller and stare him straight in the eyes. If this will have you sent to the axe then so be it.

He grows just as tense in reply, his lips forming a sneer as he takes a step closer towards you.

Never before has Prince Kim been opposed like this before, you’re sure of it. The way his irises become darker is proof.

“And why is that, lamb?” He mocks, and the fire inside of you only begins to glow brighter Of course, you’re just the lamb that's wandered into the lion's den. The lamb being prepared for meal.

Steam clouds around your head, jaw becoming tense as you try to hold back your rage. Rage for your mother, rage for the life she was taunted into the same way the prince is trying to do to you now.

“I will not become another woman you bed and then lay waste to!” You practically shout, unable to hold back your emotions anymore.

His nostrils flare, “Excuse me?”

“You heard my words.” You state back, indignant, “I will not be an idiot. I will not become another woman who you use for your own pleasures!”

You hear him scoff, head turning away from you for the first time as he looks around your room.

“You think that little of me?” His eyes make their way back to you, his face having the expression of somewhat… hurt?

Suddenly, you’re unsure. You feel stupid all over again though you’re not entirely conscious as to why. You hurt him? How could you possibly hurt the most powerful person in the country?

You falter in your stance, and it is obvious that he takes notice. Uses it to his advantage as he takes another step closer, makes his hand find your own. His thumb brushing soothingly over the knuckle. His hands are always so soft.

“What else am I meant to think? I’ve heard the stories, Prince Kim.” Where once was fire lays blistering coals. Hot to the touch yet unyielding in their passion. The air in the room has changed in much the same way.

“Tell me of them.” He asks you, his voice now gentle, soft.

It is strange, the complete change he’s had since first entering your room. Has your brain going a little haywire. Especially with the way he stares at your hands. Like they could be locked forever.

“I…” You feel flush, embarrassed to mutter the words in front of the prince, “I’ve heard you seduce women… princesses, noblemen’s daughters, maids… the lot. Then you abandon them the next morning with your seed in their core and a knife in their heart.”

You keep your eyes to your feet, face feeling hot by repeating the words of your friend. You refuse to look at him, you cannot take the embarrassment.

A light chuckle leaves his lips, a hand coming up to attempt to muffle them, “Sorry, sorry.” He shakes his head, a playful glint in his eyes. You’re baring your soul to him! How dare he laugh!

He coughs to muffle the rest of the sound, returning to the moment, “I apologise. I just had the realisation. You’re jealous of them, aren’t you lamb?”

A mess of flutters takes up your stomach, your shoulders raising in alarm. Your lips open to try and form words, to try and deny the allegations made your way, yet you are entirely unable.

Especially with the way he moves closer, crowds your space with such ease. Leads close to you, whispers words in your ear, voice lower than before.

“You wish it to just be you I lay with, is that so?” You can practically hear the smile in his voice as another, more erotic chill finds its way down your spine.

“Th-That isn’t–” You try to speak, but your voice sounds as light as air. He moves closer, arm carrying itself around your back, pulling you flush against him as he speaks sinful words. Words only for you.

“Ah…” He sighs in relief, lips practically touching your ear once you’re finally connected to him, “You don’t like it when I go fuck your friends then come to spend my nights talking to you… writing to you… touching myself to the thought of you.”

You cannot take it. You cannot take this, take him. Your head is spinning, clouding with the drug known as Prince Kim. Your knees feel weak, your limbs feel all too heavy. How can someone so pretty say such sinful words without a second thought. It’s too much. Far more than your poor little heart can take.

Your arms come up, press as firm as they can against his chest despite how weak they feel.

“Mmm…?” He asks in response, pulling back to look down on your face. Mock confusion spread across his features. He takes a step back, pretending to look you up and down. Like he is just playing a game of poker while all of your tells are as clear as day.

“Or is that not what you wish?” He asks, head tilted to the side like a confused puppy, “You would like things to remain the same?” He smiles, drawing conclusions all on his own.

He pauses, waits for you to say something, anything before continuing. But you do not, so he will keep playing this game by himself.

“Then I shall go find someone to keep me company for the night. Mmm..” He taps his chin in contemplation, turning on his heels, meanwhile panic and dread fills every facet of your being, “What were those ones you’re friends with again? Celley? That pretty blonde? Oh, or maybe Annabell. I’m sure she would be prepared to go for a second round.”

What? What? No, No! What is he talking about? Why is he starting to walk away?! Wait, Annabell, second time?! She has before?!

Oh heavens, oh gods.

“Anyway, I'll be sure to write to you after. Have a good night, dream of me.” You begin to hyperventilate as he takes one step out the door. No, he can’t leave. You don’t want him to. You don’t want him to be with anybody else. You can’t let it happen. You can’t afford such a thing! Ever! That is not where he is meant to be!

Your body carries you before your mind does. Hand slipping out, gripping onto the back of his coat with all of the strength you can muster. Feet planted firm in your room, doing everything in your power to not let him leave.

It is really too bad you do not see the sick smile that forms on his lips. Maybe then the pieces of the puzzle would have finally clicked in place.

Instead he only tilts his head backwards, painting a complexion of boredom.

“N-No! I don’t want that!” You finally manage to stutter out, knuckles turning white with the strength you hold onto him. Afraid if you let go in the slightest he will pull away and disappear forever. “I don’t want you to be with other women!”

The silence that follows your confession feels a mile long.

“Then go put on the dress.” Out of any response there could be, that certainly was not the one you were anticipating.

“What…?”

His chin tilts in the direction of it, urging you on, “If that is the truth, then go put on the dress.”

“I…” You hesitate for only a moment, but scramble to motion once the prince turns to leave once again.

You make quick paces to your bed, keeping your back to him. You feel his eyes on your back, intent on giving you no privacy to ensure you follow through on his order.

In fact, all he does is close the door behind you. Making sure no one will be able to see in. No one will be able to watch you save for him.

You slowly peel off the cotton of your nightgown, trying to appear brave even though his eyes are trained on your form. Even if your slip still remains on, you have never been this uncovered in front of a man before. You feel entirely bare.

You do not look at him as you finally find your way through the tool, slipping the garment over your head with struggle, yet his face is practically predatory.

You don’t know his plans, or what he wishes to gain. You never do.

As the fabric settles over your hips, half of you wants to question how the size is perfect, but you refrain. Too embarrassed by everything else to even consider it an option. Your hands reach behind you to attempt to lace up the back on your own, yet another pair are already present in their place.

When did he get so close? How did he get so close without you hearing a thing? Your heartbeat must be the only sound in your ears, that must be it.

His fingers work down your spine, tightening the dress so it fits you perfectly. Tying it off with skill you did not know he had. You feel his breath on the back of your neck. A fire begins to grow in your core.

“I was going to present you to my father tonight.” He admits, placing a gentle kiss to the base of your neck, “The ball was meant to find my bride.”

“Oh.” Those are the only words you can say when he is so close, arms enclosing around your waist. Pulling your back flush with his chest.

Only words you can manage at the revelation.

“Imagine his disappointment, more so my own when the girl I had been speaking to him about did not show.” He grunts, almost as if it hurt him. Guiding your body to stand in front of the full mirror in your room. Asking– telling you to look at yourself.

The sight is strange, yet incredible. The crown prince of the entire nation standing in your bedroom, in the maids quarters. Surrounded by squalor and chaos. Arms wrapped around a maid dressed as if she could be a queen.

You look up at him to the best of your ability, regret plastered across your features, “Prince Kim–”

“Taehyung.”

“--I’m so sorry.” He does not look you in the eyes. They stay trained ahead, not straying once from the mirror. One hand rubbing small circles into the fabric covering your stomach, the other sliding to your waist.

He touches you without care, without reason. Feeling you against him for all that it is worth.

“Actions have consequences, that is all. They can come later.” He states plainly, “For now I just wish to indulge in you.”

He brings his face down, placing it right next to yours. His hand rises, making your chin face the mirror as well.

He forces you to make eye contact with him through it, forces you to understand each of his words clearly.

“You’ll let me do that, won’t you?”

You take a deep breath, gulping down all the air you can manage. You don’t think you’ve wanted anything more.

With no more than a nod, his lips are on yours.

Spinning you around, pressing your back against the mirror. His hands cupping your cheeks with such intensity you fear they may become etched into your skin forever. Keeping your lips closed against his own.

His body cages you in, pressing entirely against you. Forming against you in perfect harmony, feeling two souls become one. Feeling each other fully for the first time– no pretence or public eye in the way to stop it.

His teeth nip at your lower lip, biting in a way that has you opening them in pain. He takes the opportunity to lick his way inside, somehow pushing even closer to your body.

Something hard presses against you and the discovery has your knees wishing to collapse.

The prince can’t possibly be this big. He simply can’t.

The kiss has you reeling, unsure of anything. Unsure of what to do at all. It is nothing like your first kiss under the cherry tree with Jungkook. That was soft and sweet, docile as two people discover something new.

This, this is nothing of the sort. It is hungry. It is a beast that has been starved, finally getting its first meal. It is intoxicating. It is needy and desperate in a way that has your fingers trying to press themselves even deeper into the glass. It has your breath being robbed. Your lifeforce wilts away to satisfy only the prince.

The groan he lets out as you finally give into him, finally allow him to take control of the kiss as arousal pools in your gut. It is one of the most deadly siren’s calls you think you’ve ever heard. One that would have any woman throwing themselves overboard for just a taste.

“Finally,” He grunts, pulling no more than a millilitre away from your lips, wetness still connecting them, “My whole life I’ve been waiting for you.” He mumbles, hungrily connecting his mouth back to your own.

Before you know it, you’re lost in the man once again. Allowing him to move you, to guide you to your bed without withdrawing from you once. Tangling your fingers into his hair, trying to make sure he doesn’t pull away. Making you drunk off of his taste, off of him.

When he kisses you like this, you’re not sure you’ll ever be able to live without him.

Your knees hit the frame of your bed and all of a sudden you're falling backwards onto its plush lining. Panting, trying to regain some of the air he stole from you.

For the first time you’re able to look up at him, to discover the mess that he has become. Cheeks red, lips swollen. Eyes dark and twisted with lust. Hair ruffled messily from where your fingers laid. Shoulders rising and falling with effort as he catches his breath as well.

He looks gorgeous and you can’t help yourself hoping this will be only a sight for you forever.

He leans down, pecking your lips once more, “I couldn’t stop myself from imagining this. Since the moment I placed an order for your dress.”

He huffs, dropping to his knees in front of you. You sit up on your elbows, face twisted into confusion as you look down at him.

God. It is too dangerous to look at him right now. You know that as another wave of heat runs straight to your core.

“Pushing up the future queen's skirt.” He groans, hands gaining purchase on your hips, pulling you down so your waist sits at the edge of the bed, “Letting myself have a taste of her while everyone else at the party danced.”

O-Oh. Oh. He sees you as, oh god.

His fingers bunch in the material of your skirt, drawing in a shaky inhale as he holds onto any drop of sanity left.

When he sees no hesitation from you, he slowly begins to push the material up your legs. Eyes trained on your own, looking to you for any sign of discomfort.

“Have her come undone on my tongue while no else was the wiser.” He groans as he finally comes face to face with your panty covered core.

Your brain moves at a snail's pace, trying to keep up with every tiny movement the prince makes. Trying to process his words while your head becomes fuzzy with your own arousal.

You feel like mush, so pliable in his grip.

His large hands slowly begin to part your thighs, to look at what he has been craving for so long when your brain catches up with you, embarrassment overcoming your being.

“Y-You can’t! I-it is dirty to do such a thing.” At least, that is what you had been taught. Though, the look in his eyes and the growl from his throat tells you the opposite.

“You could never be dirty. No part of you could ever be.” The sound he lets out is more akin to an animal than anything else, and suddenly you feel like a schoolgirl. Flustered and embarrassed beyond anything else.

The muscles of your thighs untense, the look on your face blushed and biting.

“You will let me?” He asks again, and despite your embarrassment, you nod. He is going to be king… his word is rule afterall. He wishes it, so it will happen. You could not be more pleased to oblige.

His grip on your thighs is more firm than before, blunt nails digging into soft flesh as he pries your legs apart. He lets a groan resonate from the back of his throat at the sight. Panties sticking to your center, wetness pooling just behind causing the material to almost become transparent before him.

You did not know it was possible for a man to have such an effect on you.

Without a second thought, he pushes the material down your thighs. His tongue licking a long stripe up your cunt, savouring the flavour for every cent it is worth.

He moans at the taste, not wasting a second before he dives back in. Lapping against you like it is his last meal.

A mewl leaves your lips, too many feelings crossing you at once for any of them to be worth anything.

Embarrassment, shame, fear all vanish the moment his lips wrap around your clit, sucking against the small bundle of nerves in a manner that has your back arching against the bed. Fingertips digging into the sheets to find a second lease on life.

You try to look down at him, to find him between all of your small pants of pleasure, however he is gone. Disappearing until the layers of fabric while he brings you sensations you never thought were possible.

His tongue moves like it is made to pleasure only you. Taking turns flicking your clit to lowering into your center. Licking up any bit of arousal he can make out. Trailing up once again to press flat against the bundle of nerves.

All of it has your legs kicking, your breath melting.

He is not quiet either, letting you know exactly how much he adores this. Adores the feeling of your thighs wrapped tight around his head. Adores every little sound and reaction you have to give him. Adores the taste of you on his tongue. It was only meant for him.

It feels like he has been wishing to do this far longer than you would ever know. Consuming you whole from the inside out. Causing you to become addicted, to desire him just as much as he carnally craves you.

His nails dig into the flesh of your thighs as your hips begin to rock against his face, seeking out every ounce of pleasure that he is willing to give you. Your adorable mewls and whines grow louder, peaking every time he sucks on your clit.

A coil has begun to form in your gut, feeling as though it could snap at any second. You wish you could see him, to look at his face and see the crazed gleam in his eyes. Observe the exact look on his face as he licks your cunt.

You try to picture it. Try to imagine the way he would look up at you from between your legs. The dark umber his eyes would become, the gentle circles he would rub into your thigh as you finally make eye contact.

Your walls clench around his tongue, sending a new waves of whines out of your mouth. He somehow moves faster, more precisely with every movement. Like he is able to hone in on the exact things that have your thighs quivering.

His tongue moves up, takes your small, worn clit into his mouth. Alternating between sucking against it, flicking at it, and pressing against it firm with the flat of his tongue.

Without warning, nor any reprise, one of his thick fingers is thrust into your wet heat. Filling you in a way you have never been able to do to yourself. Stretching you. And all of a sudden, you’re flying off the edge of a precipice.

“Prince Kim!” Your back arches off of the bed, head thrown back against the mattress as you let out a moan. Your hips jolt, cunt squeezing around his fingers, heels digging into the floor as you come undone before him.

He works you through it with ease and grace, finger slowly thrusting in and out. Tongue firmly planted against your clit to ride you through your high.

It would not be your last of the night. He must be gentle.

Slowly, you relax against the bed, chest heaving from exertion. He pulls away from you, standing to full height before leaning over your shaking form.

Your arousal coats his face, a sheen from his lips and chin evident against the soft yellow glow of the room. He looks down at you, concern and adoration written across his features. Though in his eyes, it appears that the beast has yet to be quelled.

He leans down, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips. You taste yourself against them.

“You are delicious. I wish to eat you every night until I die.” He mumbles against your lips, his knee sliding between your legs. Muscle pressing against your swollen cunt.

You try to flinch away, yet the hand on your hip keeps you in place.

He will not have you running away.

Not now.

Your cheeks flush at his words, wide eyes looking up at him like he is all that matters.

He is.

He presses his knee further against your pussy while his lips trail down the column of your neck. Urging you towards the headboard with no words spoken until your head is against the pillows.

Your arms wind their way around his neck, keeping him in place, “I-if we were married, I would let you.” You manage to speak, your voice shaky.

He only smiles in reply. Fingers digging deeper into your waist as if he is holding himself back.

“Then we shall call this practice for our wedding night.” He smiles, sitting back on his heels.

Marriage, wedding night. You allow the thought to ghost through your mind, willing it to be reality.

He smiles down at you, taking note in the way you seem to gleam at the idea. A small chuckle leaves his lips, you really are too cute for your own good.

His voice is no more than a whisper, forcing you to stay enrapt, “You will let me, right?” He asks, eyes glancing down to where his pants strain against his hips, “I wish to make love to my future wife.”

Your mouth practically waters at the sight, his hard cock pressed taught against the expensive material. You swear there may even be a wet spot where his cum has leaked through.

Your pussy clenches, wanting nothing more for him to find his way inside. For him to claim you for himself. Destroy you so no other man can have you in the same way.

You struggle against yourself for no more than a moment, but the way his hand reaches down, grips at his cock. Brushes his thumb over the surface has you moaning in want.

“Please.”

He smiles, the motion following swift. All at once his hands unbutton his pants, pushing the material down his thighs just enough for his cock to spring free. He groans at the feeling, thick length hitting his stomach. Pretty pre-cum dripping down the side.

Your eyes go wide. If you imagined him to be large before, seeing it now looked impossible. He is thick, long. Far too big to ever hope to fit inside of you.

But the desperate groan in his voice, the hungry look in his eyes only has you spreading your legs. Wishing nothing more than for him to destroy you.

One hand wraps around the base as he moves closer, the other forcing the skirt of your dress as high as it will allow. He makes space for himself in between your thighs, slotting himself in. Ready to do what he has been waiting years for.

Not yet.

He sees the hesitation in your eyes, the worry. So he leans down, planting a gentle, soothing kiss to your lips. One filled with years of time behind it.

He knows he must be careful with you. Knows all of his patience will have been worth it when he is finally able to take your virginity.

“Will it hurt?” You as quietly, wrapping your arms around his shoulders to keep him close. You find comfort in him. Find a sense of safety within his eyes.

He nods in response, “Only for a little while, I promise.” He mumbles against your lips, placing a soft kiss against them once more.

He slowly rubs the fat head between your folds, coating himself in your arousal. Your hips buck slightly in response, and he can’t help but smirk.

So sensitive. So ready for him.

As much as he wants to be rough, he can’t. He can’t scare you away just yet.

He looks into your eyes once more, “Ready?” He asks, giving you one final chance to back out. You only nod your head, pulling him close, hiding your face in his neck.

His head catches on your opening with the final drag of his length through your lips. His hands practically shake in excitement, as he guides himself inside. Letting go only once the tip is buried within your walls.

He feels your teeth sink into his coat, your body burning with the stretch of him. He only has the first inch inside, yet you think it is more than you could possibly take.

A choked cry leaves your lips as he continues to slowly thrust inside. Your arms cling to him as tight as possible. Tears prick in the corner of your eyes as he fills you, forming your entire body just around him. Just around his cock.

He pauses only once half of his cock is buried in your needy cunt. You feel his hand come up to caress your cheek, to bring you back down to reality from the pain you feel digging at your core. Trying to bring you some sense of comfort.

You pull back from his shoulder to look him in the eyes, expecting to see them soft. Filled with concern. Though there is nothing of the sort there.

Behind his bangs is only the look of pure insanity.

Though he tries to be compassionate, he really does.

“Are you doing okay?” His voice is strangled, coming out in only desperate cracks. He shakes, wanting nothing more than to fuck himself inside. Fuck himself deeper and deeper, until your cunt is shaped for his cock alone.

But he holds restraint. Just enough.

The way he looks at you, the way he speaks has a wave of pleasure rushing through your skin. Your walls clamp around him, tightening even more.

He is falling apart before you, because of you.

He has gone mad because of you.

The feeling only makes you want to urge him on. See just how far the prince can fall.

You nod your head, looking at him with all the affections in the world, “Don’t stop.”

He groans at your words, mind losing itself as he snaps his hips forward, forcing his cock inside until his hips are firm against your own. Teeth digging into the fragile skin of your neck.

You cry out in pain, your walls squeezing around him in shock. Pain coursing through your entire system as you are filled to the brim. Walls stretched as wide as humanly possible. The head of cock so deep inside you swear you can feel it in your lungs.

“Shit.” He groans, mouth falling open, “This pretty thing is wrapped around me so tight, lamb. So fucking tight I can’t think.”

He slowly tries to move his hips, though you only shout in response. Your legs wrap around his back, doing their utmost to keep him in place.

“Hurts!” You whine, shaking your head quickly.

Fucking hell. What is the point of a pussy as sweet as your own if he can’t use it properly?

His hand moves between your legs, growl of impatience slipping past his lips as his fingers find your clit. They work with urgency, with need. Rubbing tight circles into it, trying to get you to feel the same pleasure he does.

You whine, overstimulated. Shots fired in all directions leaving you messy and confused.

With every circle, a mewl sounds from your throat. Slowly your legs behind him loosen, the pain from before mixing with pleasure to become something wonderful. Something that has you whimpering for him to not stop.

“See?” He grunts, slowly slipping out of your heat until only the tip remains, “We were made for each other.”

He forces his cock back inside, fucking you open just for him. Only ever for him.

Your nails dig into his back, heels digging into the mattress as you moan for him. As your cunt becomes addicted to the feeling of him filling you so perfectly. Addicted to everything he has to offer.

He moves too fast, too hard for you to even hope to keep up with. Hips pistoning into you, forcing you to take everything he has to give and more. Forcing you to be the perfect little doll for him, give him all the pleasure he can want and more. White mixing with red around the base of his cock.

Your back arches off the mattress to try and get closer to him, to try and keep up with him in any hope of the sentiment. Hips trying their best to keep him as close and as deep as possible, knowing they crave one thing and one thing alone.

“Prince Kim!” You moan, yet he growls in response. A sharp slap to your thigh sounds throughout the room as his hips pause, fingers removing themselves from your clit.

“That isn’t my name to you anymore.” His voice is low, menacing in your ear. One more poke of the bear and you will be punished. “Tae–Hyung.”

He emphasises the words with a sharp thrust of his hips, one that brushes against the bundle inside of you. One that leaves you crying out for him. Clinging on to him.

“Say it.” He grunts, animalistic and desperate. Yet you’re too lost in yourself to realise how debauched he’s become. Looking less and less like a man, more like a demon come to lay waste to your soul.

That is close enough to the truth, anyway.

“Say it until it becomes the only word you know. Every question I ask, every time I fuck myself into this sweet little cunt. Your only reply should be my name.” He grabs your chin, forcing you to stare at him.

Your fucked out little features as you bob your head in compliance.

“I-I” You swallow, trying to understand his words as he pounds away at your core, “I understand!”

He smiles, almost proud of the work he has done today.

His hips only move impossibly faster, impossibly harder in a way that has that knot in your gut tightening once more.

“We’ll start simple then. What is my name?” He asks, angling his hips to press against your sweet spot with ever slight movement. Breathe panting, his mind falling deeper and deeper into the thralls of your body.

“P-Prin–” You stop yourself, a pinch coming down on your skin, “Taehyung!”

He groans, almost coming undone as he hears your name fall from your lips for the very first time. The pretty sound your voice makes with every letter.

It could be the only thing he hears for the rest of his life.

“Who are you going to marry?”

You whine, your head thrashing around slightly. He smiles. You must really enjoy the idea of that, huh?

“T-Taehyung!” You manage to stutter out again, feeling your release coming closer and closer as the seconds pass by.

“Who is the man you have fallen for?” The answer to the question is easy, especially when he is fucking into you like you’re the only woman that matters. Nothing matters except for him.

“Taehyung!” Your brain is too fuzzy to process anything else. Anything other than the way his cock fills you. Anything other than the one word he told you is your gospel.

“Who is the boy that kissed you under the cherry tree?” You don’t even know anymore.

Does any man exist beside Taehyung anyway? You doubt it.

“Taehyung!” He smiles into your neck.

“Who was the boy that was going to have you killed? That saved your life?” His words don’t process through your ears, yet you know what you are meant to say anyway.

“Taehyung!” He groans, his hips stuttering, losing their pace ever so slightly.

“Who do you belong to?”

“Taehyung!” You whine, your thighs shaking. The coil so tight you think you may just die if it doesn’t come undone in this very moment.

His breath is quiet, only a rough whisper in your ear, “Cum.”

Just as your king commands, you fall apart around him. White dots in the corner of your eyes as you clamp down around him, your legs pulling him close. A cry of his name leaving your lungs as if it is the very air you breathe.

You feel him paint the inside of your walls white, his hips stuttering– fucking himself as deep into you as he could possibly manage. If you had any sense left in your little head you would have told him to pull out, yet your brain is so high. Filled with pleasure that only Taehyung can provide.

Waves of arousal crash around you as he slows his hips, ensuring that you ride out your orgasm to its fullest before pulling away. You wish he could stay buried inside of you, just like that. Yet you doubt that would be very wise.

“Was that good for you, little lamb?” He asks, slowly helping you into a sit. You’re not sure how to properly answer– mouth feeling dry. Your head has not yet come crashing back down, though that is probably a good thing.

Facing reality is too scary right now. Especially when Taehyung is so warm. So caring as he removes your dress. Slips your nightgown back over your soiled body.

“Very…” You nod, unable to take your eyes off of him as he moves around the bed. Tucking himself back into his pants, removing his shirt and dress-coat. Placing them over the back of a chair. Neatly hanging the dress on a hook, taking care that it is not damaged in any way.

Your arms find themselves reaching out to him, trying to pull him closer to you. He smiles once he takes notice.

“Would you like me to stay the night?” It is clear he was already planning on it, but hearing the words make you smile oh-so bright.

“Yes, please.” You nod quickly, eyes already feeling tired. You did not know how he had so much energy, but you can’t find it in yourself to care. Right now he is meant to be in your bed, arms around you. In fact, you become annoyed that he isn’t already.

“Alright.” He smiles, slipping next to your form. Wrapping his arms around you, pulling you as close as possible.

You feel so safe. So warm with him. So protected that you can’t stop yourself from falling asleep.

“Goodnight my lamb.”

The Kim Empire.

His home, his family, his livelihood all wrapped up in those three little words.

Yet, the only thoughts that seem to brandish his mind since the young age of 15 are about you.

When you first stumbled in front of him, carrying a tray of tea. Spilling it all over his shoes. That quick curse that left your lips before looking up at him. The wide, doelike vision you had once recognition had set in. One the realisation of error set into your bones.

He will never forget the way his heart began to race in that very moment. The way he felt a cloth of sickness overcome his whole body at the mere sight of you. Looking so serendipitous below him.

At first he thought it was hate, how silly he had been back then. Ah, the way he sent you to be killed was just funny to him now. He is grateful he talked to his mother before your execution date. Spilling his soul to her, detailing how he could not seem to remove you from his brain.

Ah, he was lucky he managed to get the letter to the executioner in time. What a pity that would be if he couldn’t. Then he wouldn’t have been able to lay next to you now. Wouldn’t be able to play with your hair, caress you like he pleases.

It is truly too bad that was not his only trial on the road towards you. It was really a pity he had to send Jungkook away. Taehyung quite liked the kid. He was fun to play with and wouldn’t shy away from his games.

But he just had to try and seduce you. Poor thing. You really were too innocent at the time. More than eager to kiss him for no reason. To give him even a peace of your heart that was meant for Taehyung alone.

He remembers as clear as day, the rage he felt as he watched your soft lips press against another mans. How terribly he wanted to go out and strike Jungkook with a sword. Of course he didn’t though, that would have scared you away. He would have hated that.

He thanks god every day he was really your first kiss, even if you didn’t know it.

Patiences was the hardest battle of all, and he will admit, he has faltered a few times over the years. Kisses stolen while you sleep, a few of your belongings robbed to keep him satiated. Mayhaps a few trips to your room in the night.

But who could blame him? He was a man in love. There was nothing that could stop him when he was so hungry for you.

Ah, and then of course his father. He wanted to separate your love as well. A maid could never possibly be suited to be queen, blah blah. He doesn’t care. And at least that fight allowed him to hug you for the first time.

God. You felt so perfect in his arms, then and now. You have always been meant for this. Meant for him.

If his father plans to keep standing in the way, he will simply have to remove him from the equation. His bonds to the man are as thick as water. He cares more for you than he possibly could anyone else.

You’ve belonged to him since you were born, anyway. If a maid becomes pregnant while working for the castle, her child becomes property of the state. Of the crown. Of him.

It only makes sense that you are meant to be with him until death. It is the path lined for you. Your fate since birth.

He knows it as his delicate fingers trace over the small patches of blood dirtying the sheets. Evidence of the hours before, of your virginity robbed. Of your promises to him.

You are bound to him by blood after all.

2K notes · View notes

marxy-06 · 10 months

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Favorites Rec List 3

More of my favs -> Thanks to all these incredible writers for making my day a little better :))

Kim Namjoon

Stretch you out (@chateautae)

A little bit in love with you (@joonbo)

Mr. masseuse (@lavenjoon)

"Let me take care of you" (@mintelepathy)

Fantasies (@sweetwritertanya)

Kim Seokjin

24/7 Marriage counselor (@jimlingss)

A better grip (@jinkookspencil)

A helping hand (@jjungkookislife)

You again (@gashinabts)

Soarin' (@aquagustd)

Seokjin's ho ho ho (@yoongsisbae)

Jealous (@youtifulhobi)

Sacrifices (@justcallmenikki7)

Influence (@aquagustd)

Min Yoongi

Back burner (@yoonpobs)

Escapism (@yoonlattesworld)

Finding home (@helenazbmrskai)

Strawberry icecream (@euphoricfilter)

When I needed you (@dreamescapeswriting)

The cockpile: love birds (@httpjeon)

Crescendo (@ugh-yoongi)

Apricity (@delightfulserendipity)

Jung Hoseok

All it takes (@yoongiofmine)

Nibbling it (@jjksblackgf)

The promises we keep (@vyduan)

Your body is an artwork (@borathae)

Maybe the first, but not the last time (@euphoricfilter)

Park Jimin

Oh so reluctant (@back2bluesidex)

Pretty like you (@axigailxo)

Serendipity (@angellesword)

Blowing dandelions (@httpjeon)

All I need (@joonberriess)

Apricot (@vminity21)

Triads and tribulations (@rendaze)

Star light, star bright (@readyplayerhobi)

High school sweethearts (@choiwrites)

Taste of little (@maliby)

Cherry king (@jiminrings)

Turning to stone (@jjungkookislife)

He makes you insecure (@kookiesbuckethat)

Kim Taehyung

The art of touch (@chateautae)

Nude (@btssmutgalore)

Triads and tribulations (@rendaze)

Match made in heaven (@beenbaanbuun)

"I'll take care of you" (@guqwrvte)

Library kisses (@kwanslvr)

Jeon Jungkook

Way Back Home (@solemnreads)

Stretch you out (@chateautae)

Seven Days (@bonny-kookoo)

Jock!jungkook (@joonberriess)

Tracing your tattoos (@btsugarush)

Shades of red (@thatlongspringnight)

Pu$$y fairy (@angelguk)

Idealizations concerning real life relations (@venusiangguk)

Little blue pill (@dreamescapeswriting)

Brown eyed baby (@jeonstudios)

Superstar (@jinkookspencil)

Spicy n' sweet (@thvhoe)

The ability to fathom (@hanniwrites)

Bad omega, sweet omega (@helenazbmrskai)

"I couldn't live without you" (@jungk0oksthighs)

In my eyes (@axigailxo)

"Besties for the resties?" (@jessikahathaway)

You're leaving me (@delukoo)

Love; weakness (@akinnie75)

Bloodline (@jjkeverlast)

Greek god (@bonny-kookoo)

Size kink (@lavenjoon)

Ex on the beach (@beahae)

Off-league (@hansolmates)

Accidental roommates (@jjkeverlast)

Good girl (@bonny-kookoo)

Crazy (@kookiecrumb)

Curious boy (@jinkookspencil)

Confident (@h0neypjm)

Still perfect (@cupoftaae)

OT7

Trouvaille (@spookyserenades)

A comforting hand (@purpleyoonn)

Abundance (@angelicyoongie)

Appreciation (@vminizzle)

Reaction: faking orgasms (@dreamescapeswriting)

Mean kitty, soft kitty (@purpleyoonn)

Best of us (@bts-trash-blog)

You belong (@imnotlauriane)

(If you have any recs pls share, especially for Hobi, Jin, & Rm :))

#writing #bts namjoon #bts v #bts jin #bts suga #bts x reader #bts smut #bangtan #namjoon #jimin #taehyung #run bts #bts jung hoseok #bts jung jungkook #bts jungguk #bts jungkook #bts recs #fanfic #fanfic rec

7K notes · View notes

kookslastbutton · 7 months

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Guilty Pleasures ༓ jjk, kth (m) | ch. i

✑ Summary: Three years of being Seoul's power couple earns you nothing but a big fat divorce settlement and your face plaster on every gossip column around town. You're angry, hurt, and desperately want to move on, but worst of all? You're still in love with the man who started the whole mess, even though the most he can ever see you as is a friend. The renowned actor you've hired to be your company's new endorser seems to have a soft spot for you though. He's easy on the eyes, you'll admit, but who actually wants a divorcee like yourself? It's unrealistic really.

pairing: ex-husband ceo!jungkook x ceo!reader, slight actor!taehyung x ceo!reader

genre/AU: angst, smut, loverstoexesto ?, unrequited love

word count: 3,328

Warnings: oc and jk are both 30, mention of gossip columns and unequal treatment of how oc is portrayed post-divorce, hint of differences between men and women in the business world, oc struggling to be professional, both care about each other and are not toxic but oc fell in love, oc has the need to groom him a little out of habit, talks about Bam, feat, Namjoon and Taehyung, and sexual content

sexual warnings: dom!jungkook, sub!reader, desk s*x, d*rty talk, oc is on bc, handjob, swearing, making out, neck kisses, clothed s*x, impulsive s*x, light praising, growling, some minor petnames (baby, Kook), mention of threesome, recalling of past sexual events

playing: Unkiss Me

a/n: uh…this one has been in my drafts and idk its kinda angsty but I decided I will share it. Enjoy! 🥰

series masterlist | next >>

From the moment he stepped into your office, Jungkook could tell every ounce of color was drained from your face. All except for your puffy red eyes that is, which he knows you've been rubbing fervently to keep your tears from rolling down your cheeks.

He doesn't blame you for it though–you're his ex-wife.

Recent ex-wife that is.

For three years the two of you masqueraded as the perfect power couple; appearing completely in love to the public eye in hopes of forming an unshakable business partnership (transaction more like). You attended charity balls together, collaborated on several work projects, and attended countless corporate functions to establish both your presence in your respective industries.

That's right, you and Jungkook were in an arranged marriage and it would have flourished into a classic love story if it wasn't for one obvious detail–you're the only one that fell in love.

Despite all the times he's called you "stunning" when you dolled up for formal events or that you "feel so good" during late-night sex, Jungkook never truly loved you. He cared about you, did his best not to intentionally hurt you, and even tried loving you back; thinking he could fall for you with time.

But the most he could ever see you as is a friend, a beautiful friend, though a friend nonetheless. He knows how much it pains you, especially after you've held out hope that he'll want you the same way someday. This one embarrasses you the most which he wishes it wouldn't.

Well, Jungkook doesn't want to trap either of you in a loveless marriage any longer. So even if it means being the center of gossip columns for a while, he's giving you a divorce so you can find the right person to share your love with.

After all, you deserve it; you both do.

Today's day one of looking at one another as exes and it's bittersweet, to say the least. The only factor that would make this worse is if children were in the equation, but there aren't any.

"Thanks for letting me swing by __," he speaks first, doing his best to conjure up a genuine smile. The black floral button-up he's wearing suits him well and his smooth chest peaking out near the collar is far too tempting, yet you know better than to let your eyes linger.

"Of course," you answer and grab a small box from behind your desk. "These are 100% yours so I wouldn't keep them from you." Jungkook takes the box of belongings from your hands with slight hesitation. You're keeping a brave front for the sake of civility and professionalism.

He doesn't blame you for that either.

As a CEO of a large multinational corporation himself, Jungkook's no stranger to the age-old philosophy that that office is no place to let your personal woes get out of hand; you have a team to lead and a reputation to uphold. The latter is proving to be harder for you than him, however, being that the media is portraying you as some kind of she-devil, spinster, or worse of all—a cheater.

Jungkook plans to personally make sure those articles get removed from the public eye before the end of the week. (Not that he'll tell you though.)

"I still could have dropped by the house to pick these up if it'd been easier. I feel bad for interrupting your work day over a couple of old books, records, and dog toys." He watches you nod silently as he vocalizes the inconvenience of it all; he really doesn't have to but he does it anyway.

"No, it's alright. You haven't been to the house since you moved out, so I thought it'd be better if we met here instead." You pause to check the time. "If there's anything you think of that you might've forgotten later, just let me know. In the meantime, I have a meeting in twenty so..."

"He misses you."

"I'm sorry?"

"Bam, I mean." Jungkook throws the box under an arm and pulls out his phone. He scrolls through his camera gallery until he gets to one particular photo of a red and tan Doberman. "He hates the new place and all he does is sulk by the door."

Your heart's already struggling to settle down from the painful reality that the man you love is leaving you, let alone being reminded of another forced separation. Bam's the closest thing to a baby that either of you ever had and he was one of the few things that bonded you and your now ex-husband together.

Being Jungkook's dog, however, he couldn't stay with you. That means no more visiting the dog park, sneaking treats behind Jungkook's back, and snuggling together in the king-size bed after a stressful day.

"I'm sure he just wants his favorite chew toy that's been held hostage at the house," you joke lightly, thinking it simpler to spin the topic. It's similar to what Jungkook does when he uses flowery language to soften the cold hard truth of your divorce; that he doesn't love you and he can't ever. "Give Bam a lot of attention for me. I miss him too."

"Of cour—shit!" When Jungkook moves to slip his phone back into his pocket he loses his balance, causing the box with his belongings to spill out on your office floor. Naturally, you kneel down to help him clean up the mess. It's not until your fingers reach for the same item and come into contact with each other that you quickly retract your hand. "Sorry, did I shock you?" He asks gently and tosses the last item into the box before standing up.

"No, you didn't." You rise to your feet as well, until you're face to face with him. This time it's closer than before. His hooded eyes stare straight into yours and you can't believe it takes being inches from his face to notice how bloodshot his eyes are. "You look exhausted. You should go home and rest Kook." The petname is out before your brain tells you to stop.

Jungkook's eyes widen, the corner of his lip subtly quirking up for the first time since the start of the conversation. "Don't worry about me __. I probably get more breaks than you do. But thanks." He briefly glances at the ticking Snoopy clock behind you, a Christmas gift he gave you as a joke last year. "You still have that?"

You look over your shoulder at the small, Snoopy-shaped digital clock on your desk. Ten minutes until your next meeting. "It's cute and it makes for a great conversation starter with clients so I guess so. If you want me to give it ba—"

"Keep it," he interrupts. "Please, it was a gift and I'd like you to have it if you enjoy it." Jungkook gnaws on his lip before continuing. "Speaking of clients and business partners, I should make myself scarce now shouldn't I?"

"Yes. I do have that meeting soon." But once he leaves, neither of you is sure when you'll see the other again aside from the odd charity event. The Annual Winter Gala in December is one that particularly comes to mind.

Most high-ranking executives like yourselves attend the function to keep up appearances and to network with other professionals. Last year, you and Jungkook were the center of attention however now that you're divorced, you fear you'll be avoided like the plague—they always preferred Jungkook over you anyway.

"You're forming a new partnership with that actor, right? Kim Taehyung? I read an inkling about it online yesterday." He also read his whole biography too. The man is equally handsome as he is altruistic and kind.

"Nothing's signed and sealed yet. I'm sure you've heard that he's gotten dozens of other offers on the table. To be honest, I'm surprised you haven't nabbed him yet."

"Yeah, we don't need...wait sorry, let me rephrase that. We aren't ready for a new partner or merger yet."

You can read between the lines despite Jungkook's correction. His company is thriving more than yours in every way, so he doesn't need the help of a third-party endorser...like you. Well, you're not doing too shabby yourself and this isn't simply about fame and fortune you want to argue.

The head poking through your door stops you from following through on that last line.

"Mrs. Jeon—shit." Your secretary Kim Namjoon screws his eyes shut at his drastic misstep. "Ms. __, Kim Taehyung called and said he'll be a bit late due to unexpected delays during his filming today. He apologizes profusely but is on his way over now. Sajangnim," he bows at Jungkook respectively.

"That's fine, Namjoon, thank you. You can send him in whenever he gets here. Mr. Jeon was just about to leave and I had the rest of my day cleared."

"Of course. I'll let him know to come in." Your secretary nods and shuts the door. Jungkook shifts between his feet once Namjoon is out of sight, a habit he's picked up that tells you he has more to say.

"Was there anything else, Mr. Jeon?" You shuffle a few files on your desk, prepping for your meeting with Taehyung. At this point, you're not even looking at Jungkook.

"Mr. Jeon? I think I prefer when you call me Kook more," he mutters, allowing his line of sight to catch a glimpse of your lips. "Can I...kiss you? Before I go."

The question knocks the wind out of your lungs and you instantly lift your head up toward him. "Kiss me?" You gulp slowly, then shake your head. "No, I'd rather we not. Goodbye kisses aren't really my thing." You couldn't be a bigger liar, evident from the sudden churning in your gut. Having Jungkook's lips on yours was the best and worst moments of your entire relationship but you have to fight yourself....your innate desires that tell you to say yes.

"Okay, I understand. What about a hug?"

"Jungkook..."

"I'm sorry, I'm pushing. Thanks again for my stuff." He gestures at the box under his arm. "I hope your meeting with Kim Taehyung goes well. Maybe I'll see you both at the next Winter Gala." He makes a beeline for the door.

"Wait!"

Jungkook stills in his tracks as he watches you stride in front of him. He's unsure what you stopped him for until your hands reach out towards his shirt collar, smoothing the delicate material down. A light smile plays on his face as you do this, though he says nothing aside from a simple 'thanks'.

"It was bothering me the whole time." You finish fixing his collar and peer up into his Bambi eyes. Out of all the potential suitors, you wish Jeon Jungkook didn't become your husband. It's not like you got to keep him or anything.

Jungkook once again flickers his gaze toward your barely parted lips. And this time, you do the same for him. Before either of you have time to back out you lean forward and kiss him.

It's a hard kiss too. Painful but so inviting that neither of you pulls away.

With his free hand, Jungkook snakes a hand around your waist to hug you close. Having his fingers pressed against the small of your back is so familiar and all you can do is deepen the kiss.

You're obviously not the only one that gets a sense of pleasure from this because, in a matter of seconds, the box from under Jungkook's arm falls to the ground. He then places his second hand on the side of your neck and jawline which you lean into, exposing the other side of your neck.

"Jungkook," you gasp when his lips attach themself to the soft skin, sucking lightly. His teeth come out and nip too. "Wait, we can't do this, we shouldn't. Taehyung, he'll be here soon."

"That would have sounded so convincing if you didn't just moan the words, baby." He walks you backward until you're forced to sit atop your mahogany desk.

"Don't call me that." You allow him to push up your pencil skirt and spread your thighs until your panties are the only material he sees. You decided to go with black lace today, his favorite now that you think about it.

"Did you—"

"No, they weren't for you."

A brief growl leaves the man's rose-tinted lips. "In that case, we don't need them." He places both hands on your hips and brings you into another kiss, messier than before. His tongue shoves between the seam of your lips to lick every crevasse he can. He hasn't kissed you like this for months and to be brutally honest, he's missed it as much as you.

Jungkook hasn't been with anyone else since marrying you either, which means he's completely adjusted to your body, your preferences, and what turns you on. The same applies to you so while he's busy shoving his tongue down your throat, you palm his half-harden bulge through his trousers.

"Mm," he groans and bucks his hips into your hand. You smile at how well you've managed to draw a response from him. With a little burst of confidence, you hastily move to unbuckle his pants. "What are you doing?" He mumbles between kisses.

You decide not to answer, preferring to reach inside his trousers to take his length out. You make sure to pump it a few times until he's fully hard. Jungkook has a gorgeous dick, and that takes a lot for you to admit.

"Fuck, that's it." He says with gritted teeth, now watching your hand as it moves up and down his cock. "Get me how you want me."

"We don't have much time." You slide your panties down your legs and spread your thighs wide apart, which makes Jungkook's eyes dilate about 10 meters. "Fuck me, please." One last time. Make love to me one last time.

"Are you sure? I don't have a condom."

"It's okay, I'm on birth control. As long as you're still clean then its fine."

"I am. I got tested recently. But are you sure you want this?"

You glance at his pulsating length, tip leaking with pre-cum, and swallow hard. "Hurry."

"Fuck, okay." Jungkook wastes not another second and guides you flat on your back, his hands resting on either side of your body. The coolness of your desk has you shiver slightly. He then urges you to raise your legs until they can wrap loosely around his slim waist. And as if second nature, you link your arms around his neck as he eases him into you. He's able to bottom out without much effort thanks to how wet you've become.

"Oh god." Your back arches off the surface of your desk as Jungkook thrusts into you. They're only practice thrusts at first to get you re-adjusted to his size, yet the pleasure zipping down your spine already has your eyes rolling up.

You shouldn't be doing this at all. Your conscious whispers to again to which you blindly dismiss. You'll enjoy it now and tomorrow, start a new—another lie you tell yourself.

"Fuckfuckfuck, you're so wonderful for me," he chants while pushing his cock in and out of you, the speed of his movements picking up to an insane rate. Jungkook never had an issue with quickies so he's likely in his element now. "You know what this reminds me of?" He cocks a smirk and kisses down your neck.

"Hm?"

"That time when we were abroad for a weekend conference. Remember when we stopped at my second office to pick up some files? You were so horny that day that you pushed me into my chair and demanded that I let you ride me. It took the wind right out of my sails to see you like that, so confident and in control." He prys apart the top button of your blouse until he can slide the material down your shoulders. He doesn't take it off completely, favoring the chance to place kisses on your newly exposed area instead.

"I was beyond stressed that day. It was the first time I had to speak at that conference and you looked so good with your freshly slicked back hair. I couldn't stop myself—oh fuck! Right there Kook, don't slow down. Please." Jungkook grunts at the use of his petname and fucks you rougher, sweat forming around his forehead as his dark hair dangles messily over his eyes.

You manage to sneak a glance at the time on your Snoopy clock between thrusts. "Shit, I need to come soon, or Kim Taehyung's never going to agree to do business with me." The man laughs and buries his head on your shoulder.

"You never know, he could be really into threesomes."

"Fuck! Don't joke about that." You claw at his back and surprise both of you with the unexpected clenching of your pussy.

"You're right, I take it back," he groans and continues to snap his hips. "Looks like he's not the one who wants a threesome after all, considering your body's response to the suggestion. You wanna ask him if he walks in?" He whispers in your ear and you're embarrassed that your cheeks burn at the thought.

Of course, Kim Taehyung was sexy and you've rehearsed to yourself dozens of times not to let yourself get any crazy ideas about him. Still, one unrequited love is enough for you; Taehyung wouldn't want a divorcee. You shake the train of thought before it has time to go any further. "Make me come, Kook. Need you to finish too. It's not just Taehyung who could walk in at any second."

Jungkook grunts and continues to thrust into you, bouncing you up and down his thick length as the desk shakes underneath you. He feels you getting closer and closer by the sporadic clenching of your walls squeezing him. A big part of him doesn't want this to end but it has to....he doesn't love you. He only wants to make you feel good before he has to say goodbye. Both of you come just before Namjoon calls your office phone, giving you a heads-up that Taehyung's about to enter your office.

Jungkook shoves his pants back on while you button up your blouse and fold over your skirt. You decided to shove your underwear in your bag with the lack of time. No one has any business digging in there anyway.

"How do I look?" You turn around to get a quick once-over from Jungkook but he's already out the door. Now the person standing in front of you is Kim Taehyung who has nothing but the most genuine smile.

"You look lovely as always Ms. __. I'm so sorry I'm late by the way. I feel terrible about it so I brought you these." Taehyung whips out a large bouquet of your favorite flowers. "Hope you don't mind that I did a little research on you ahead of time. I found out these have a special place in your heart."

You smile and accept the bouquet with thanks. As you set them on your desk, a messages comes through your phone. You manage to give a quick look.

Unknown Number: Sorry I had to duck so fast! I know it looked rude but Taehyung was already opening the door and you were dressed so I thought it'd be better if I left. Hope you're meeting goes well! And thanks for everything today ;) if you need anything, you have my number.

You flip your phone over and invite Taehyung to have a seat. Business is business, and you have to carry on even if your heart has completely sunk to the ground. Kim Taehyung is sweet anyway, so you'll enjoy his company.

Too bad you don't realize how much he enjoys yours as well.

a/n: so, yeah... there's a potential for our Jk to actually love oc and not realize it but either way he does care about her (despite the impulsive sex). And yes, taehyung likes oc... it's like a double unrequited love 😔 okay bye lmk what you think, thank you! 😘

Also, lmk what you think about jk in this poll!

masterlist

no reposting, copying, or translating my work– © kookslastbutton

#jungkook angst #jungkook smut #jungkook x reader #jungkook fanfic #jungkook x you #jungkook imagines #taehyung smut #taehyung angst #bts smut #bts angst #bts au #bts imagines #bts fanfics #bts x reader #fic:guiltypleasures #kookslastbutton

5K notes · View notes

euphoricfilter · 7 months

Text

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• ° kinktober masterlist

31 days of smut let’s get it °:. *₊ ° . ☆.

please read the warnings for each chapter!!

･｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ.

☆ day 1 ~ taehyung: breeding kink

tags/ warnings: pwp, unprotected sex, breeding kink, baby talk (but no actual kids because yuck)

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

☆ day 2 ~ : jimin: pet play

tags/ warnings: pwp, pet play, ass play, fingering of both holes, butt plugs, mild dumbification

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

☆ day 3 ~ jungkook: thigh riding

tags/ warnings: pwp, thigh riding, cumming untouched, implied use of recreational drugs (weed)

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

☆ day 4 ~ hoseok: somnophilia

tags/ warnings: pwp, somnophilia, consensual drugging, oral (f. receiving), unprotected sex

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

☆ day 5 ~ yoongi: praise kink

tags/warnings: pwp, oral (m. receiving), praise kink, vaginal fingering, cum swallowing

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

☆ day 6 ~seokjin: corruption kink

tags/ warnings: pwp, corruption kink, he’s a little condescending too, just jin teaching you how to touch yourself?, fingering, cumming untouched

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

☆ day 7 ~ namjoon: double penetration

tags/ warnings: pwp, use of a dildo (the ones that have a hole for fake cum), double penetration, unprotected sex, creampie x2 ?, squirting

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

☆ day 8 ~ jungkook: size kink

tags/ warnings: pwp, unprotected sex, creampie, size kink, he’s hung okay? whatever you’re thinking make it bigger— he has a fat cock, belly bulge

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

☆ day 9 ~ taehyung: watersports

tags/ warnings: pwp, watersports (pee), cumming untouched, literally wet and messy

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

☆ day 10 ~ jimin: cock warming

tags/warnings: pwp, unprotected sex, creampie, cock warming

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

☆ day 11 ~ hoseok: oral fixation

tags/ warnings: pwp, fingers in mouth!!!! (lets gooo), oral (m. receiving), cum swallowing, subspace, condescending dom hoseok!!! (lets gooooooo!!!)

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

☆ day 12 ~ yoongi: overstimulation

tags/ warnings: pwp, vibrator, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, squirting, minor oral? (f. receiving), unprotected sex

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

☆ day 13 ~ seokjin: creampie

tags/ warnings: pwp, unprotected sex, creampie, cum kink, lil spanking action

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

☆ day 14 ~ namjoon: face sitting

tags/ warnings: pwp, touched on insecurities, face sitting, namjoon’s a munch, grinding, pleasure dom joon

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

☆ day 15 ~ jungkook: fingering

tags/ warnings: pwp, fingering, a singular slap to the pussy, squirting, cumming untouched, cum swallowing? sort of? cum is ingested basically, all very lighthearted and fun

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

☆ day 16 ~ taehyung: spit kink

tags/ warnings: pwp, spitting in a mouth (yum?), wet and messy, unprotected sex, creampie

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

☆ day 17 ~ jimin: mirror sex

tags/ warnings: pwp, unprotected sex, fingering, exhibitionism? kinda, they just fuck in a public gym, the panties stayed on, finger in mouth !!!!

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

☆ day 18 ~ hoseok: squirting

☆ day 19 ~ yoongi: free use

☆ day 20 ~ seokjin: spanking

☆ day 21 ~ namjoon: voyeurism

☆ day 22 ~ jungkook: exhibitionism

☆ day 23 ~ taehyung: knotted dildo

☆ day 24 ~ jimin: role play

☆ day 25 ~ hoseok: primal play

☆ day 26 ~ yoongi: shibari

☆ day 27 ~ seokjin: vibrator

☆ day 28 ~ namjoon: cum stuffing

☆ day 29 ~ jungkook: pantie kink

☆ day 30 ~ taehyung: belly bulge

☆ day 31 ~ yoongi: mask kink

5K notes · View notes

sailoryooons · 2 years

Text

Pinch of Sugar | One | kth (m)

Summary: As a powerful CEO - Kim Taehyung cannot afford any mistakes to his image. He has taken to the employment of sugar babies - women paid to keep quiet about how he lives his life and to positively influence his public image. But when a contract goes sour and his last sugar baby exposes Taehyung, he needs someone softer to sweeten up his image. And you are just the pinch of sugar he needs.

♦ Pairing: sugardaddy!Taehyung x sugarbaby!Reader

♦ Genre: sex worker, strangers to lovers, angst, smut

♦ Word Count: 12,472

♦ Rating: NSFW & 18+ Minors are strictly prohibited from engaging with this content. Any minors discovered interacting with adult content will be blocked immediately.

♦ Warnings: Explicit language, reference to sex work and paid relationships, mention of Taehyung experiencing hate and homophobia (he is a bi-sexual king) in the media, anxiety about paying bills, a little bit of ranting about economic stability and socio-economics, a little bit of insecurity about power dynamics from a monetary point of view at the end, mentions of toxic relationship with Taehyung last sugar baby - sorry, there's no sugar in this one :)

♦ Type: Series

♦ Main Masterlist: here

♦ Series Masterlist: here

| faq | taglist request |

A/N: THIS STORY AS BEEN DISCONTINUED FOR NOW.

Kim Taehyung does not like inconveniences. He taps his nails on the table of the teakwood desk. For a moment, he stops to examine them. The cuticles are slightly overgrown, nails longer than they should be. He makes a mental note to ask Jimin to make an appointment for him to get a manicure. Perhaps an entire spa day.

He’s certainly stressed enough to spend an entire day somewhere in a tropical paradise while he soaks in a seaweed wrap.

The thought is pointless. Taehyung can hardly relax for an hour, much less an entire day. The thought is a funny little dream he has for himself. Something like a private joke that when he’s sitting in his office at 11 pm while all of his friends are out celebrating another promotion or a birthday, or someone getting engaged, and he can think Ah, should have taken that spa day.

The stress, however, isn’t from work today. It’s from the fucking thorn that has been growing in his side since the one thing Taehyung did indulge in to relax, got it in her head that they were an official couple.

He had addressed that immediately. Not only is it always in the contract, but it is something that Taehyung makes a topic of conversation any time his lovers get too comfortable. He is not there to date them, they are not there to change him.

Convenience.

Taehyung, above all else, admires easy. Not because he had it easy his entire life, or because he is lazy. It’s the opposite: Taehyung is constantly busy with work on the day-to-day, running an empire as a well-oiled machine and expanding technologies under Kim Tech while constantly jockeying with his father’s and peers' various demands.

He isn’t just a CEO of his father’s company. He is a lead thinker - a brain that brings an insane amount of progress, function, and ideas to the table. Taehyung must split himself between being a designer and a dreamer for their tech and being the CEO, the decision maker, the person who signs on the dotted lines.

So convenience is important – no – convenience is imperative outside of his life from work. He must move around the demands of his father and his job, and he needs efficiency. Like the artificial intelligence that he creates.

Machines are so much easier. Their idiosyncrasies make sense to him. If there’s a bug, he can go into the programming and work it out. Coding and running diagnostics and numbers are so much easier than people. Than feelings. Than people who want more of his time, who want more of him, who want more of an emotional investment that he doesn’t have time for.

First, Taehyung had tried casual dating. There are plenty of men and women looking to get their rocks off on dating apps. He's always in social settings for work: events, happy hours, galas, ribbon cutting ceremonies, charities, birthdays, anniversaries.

There's no shortage of hookups in the world.

But without boundaries and clear definitions of where things ended and began, it began to get messy. People calling and texting him when they knew they weren’t supposed to, showing one hookup favoritism because they were closer to his villa or because he liked the way one sucked dick better than the other became an issue.

Jealousy is an ugly motivator in his world.

Inconvenient.

Which is why Taehyung sought to invest in the world of people he could pay for their time. But it's more complicated than that. Taehyung is an extremely successful businessman and his father’s company that he built from the ground up had a reputation. An important name in the world.

Discretion is Taehyung's second item on the needs list, right after convenience. So he had asked around a few of his business friends: how do you go about paying someone to be discreet? What is ethical? How soundproof is this? What are the limitations?

He was given a company: Eden.

Where angels fall, Taehyung thought the first time he entered the building to meet with the founder and CEO, Kim Seokjin. He still rather likes Seokjin, despite Taehyung’s most recent contract with a veteran employee going the worst way it could.

There are still unopened text messages from Taehyung’s father. It's been almost three months, but Taehyung doesn’t have the stomach to look at them. There is no point when Kim Jaesung can tell them directly to his son’s face.

Running a hand over his face, Taehyung feels the tension twisting in his shoulders. It creeps up his neck, making it stiff and aching to turn. A spa day would be nice, but he cannot afford the time off, not when he’s close to launching an entire new artificial intelligent assistant to rival the creation of KAIA.

Kim Artificial Intelligence Assistant.

KAIA had been his father’s child – his real child if Taehyung’s childhood was anything to go by. It's changed the way the world integrated technology into everyday life. Siri vanished from phones. Alexa was no longer a household name. Google could not compete with the reactive thinking and cognitive ability of KAIA.

The many iterations of KAIA are each better than the last, and now KAIA is almost sentient. At least, it feels like that at times when Taehyung cracks a joke to himself and the robotic voice humors him. Taehyung works on KAIA’s personality coding himself, a series of complex learning behaviors and statistical numbers that make her grow with the user.

Now, he’s working on a smaller integration and one that is more cost-effective, and most importantly: affordable.

Taehyung's still fighting the battle of the pricing for whole and commercial sales - as well as in general - what the value of MAIA is. MAIA – Mini Artificial Intelligence Assistance – is a smaller version of her big sister KAIA and is meant to be accessible by the lower income division and used in charity integrations among school districts and various government-funded programs.

We already do charity, the board – including his father – has told him many times. Taehyung doesn't care. Enough people on the board of governors and investment team think that it gives them a good look – to hell with actually helping people – the PR is great.

But the god damn price. It’s something that Taehyung takes a stance on every day because affordable to the one percent is not affordable to the mass population, and definitely not affordable for those in lower income cities and neighborhoods.

Inconvenient.

Much of his work is inconvenient, and now Taehyung has gone three months without getting fucking laid because Amaya became inconvenient and outed herself as a paid employee of Kim Taehyung whom he uses for sex.

A sugar baby. A sex worker. A prostitute. An escort.

Amaya has been called all kinds of names, but she's never cared. She preyed on Taehyung’s tolerance for her breaking rules and contract.

Now he was fucking paying for being too tired to fight with her.

Taehyung’s cell phone goes off on his desk. He frowns when he sees his housekeeper calling. In all the years Merallta has worked for him, he can think of maybe two times that she's called him. One time was because Miss Ysabel had broken into Taehyung’s office and the other was because his stepmother had let herself into his home – something she never did.

So Taehyung picks up the phone, a crease already in his brow and his tone hushed. “Hi, Merallta.”

“Mr. Kim, there is something wrong with Yeontan. I think he had an allergic reaction. I’m taking him to-“

“I’ll meet you there.” He stands swiftly. “Text me the address.”

Because if there is anything in Taehyung’s life that he will tolerate being inconvenient, it is that damn dog he bought on a whim and that he loves more than anything else on the planet. Even work.

Taehyung grabs his coat and storms out the door, asking KAIA to bring the car around as he does.

Your eye has been twitching for two weeks. You feel it as you push the rolling chair backward, reaching to shove a manila file back into its proper place. You glance at the clock and try not to yawn. The night shift at Midway Veterinary isn’t bad – it’s usually the emergencies that happen in the middle of the night, but few are ever really life threatening.

It’s traditionally the same: my dog ate a toy, my dog has a really bad rash, my dog ate a roach trap, my cat started vomiting all over the couch.

Pet emergencies at night always feel more dangerous than those during the day. It's something about the threat of not getting to the animal hospital in time or being worried everything is closed that gets to people.

That’s where you come in.

Keeping a calm voice on the phone when pet owners dial at midnight to tell you that they dropped their hamster is always incredibly important. Though you cannot physically treat the pets themselves, your job as the front desk admin for the night shift is to keep them calm, keep them rational, and get pet parents to tell you exactly what happened.

There are plenty of times you can talk them through something on the phone. My dog accidentally ate a piece of chocolate, is he going to die? My cat swallowed a grape, what will happen?

Those are the easy answers, usually. You’ve been at Midway long enough to know when to tell them to come in or when to walk them through purging their pet’s stomach on the phone.

The door to the waiting area rips open and a man strides in through the front door. You notice several things at once, and mostly in an order that you know is not most to least important.

First: he is absolutely stunning. His golden hair looks like it's originally been styled with gel in a careful, brushed-back look with an exposed forehead. A few strands escape now – hanging artfully over his brow. It looks good – though anything would look good on him.

Dark brown eyes wide with panic, honey skin that is unblemished to the point that you feel the need to touch the breakout on your chin, a sharp jawline that you read about in smutty romance novels, and a carefully sloped nose that would look too large on anyone else but is perfect on him.

Second: you realize that he’s dressed like he just strolled off a photoshoot set somewhere. Vogue, perhaps. You’re not too in touch with fashion, much to Hoseok’s distress, but you can recognize that he knows how to dress. Black trousers, a velvet black vest, a jacket that fits specific enough to hint at it being personally tailored, and a charcoal tie.

He is exquisite.

The third thing – and probably the most important – that you notice, is the fluff in his arms as he starts speaking to you over the counter. You blink up at him, dazed and confused for a moment. He repeats himself and your brain is still trying to put the pieces together.

Very cute black and tan dog – beautiful coloring for a Pomeranian – held tightly in his arms, snout swollen and eyes bulging slightly.

“Looks like an allergic reaction,” you say, barely hearing your own voice. “Are you a current patient with us?”

“Yes, Kim Taehyung.”

Fuck. No wonder this man looks the way he does – you know the name instantly and you’re unsure how you did not recognize him in the first place. Not only was his company worth billions of dollars and in the very computer you pulled up his – Yeontan’s – file, but he had a massive scandal a few months prior.

Shoving all of that aside, you check them in and assure Taehyung that Yeontan will be just fine. A vet tech is out within moments, greeting Taehyung with familiarity before taking the dog from his arms and telling him to wait. Taehyung protests but you say his name with a soft voice, drawing those eyes to you.

His eyes are the most beautiful thing about him. You don’t know him at all – you know of him. In the media, in magazines, in interviews. But that cannot tell you much about a person, and from looking at the way his eyes water and the way a tech billionaire stands in front of you about to crack, you know that he is kind.

“He’ll be okay,” you assure him with a soft smile. “I sent over everything you told me. You only can’t go back because it’s a bit of a full house back there tonight with some stay overs and we’ve got a big girl back there who doesn’t like men much. Sadie is a sweety to us, but she’ll give you a good snap.”

“That’s a dog, right?”

Laughter bubbles to your lips as the joke goes over his head. “Yes, Sadie is a German Sheppard. She came from an abusive home and hates men. Though I’m sure you’re great.”

He sighs. “How long?”

“Probably not very. They’ll give him an antihistamine and give him a good check just to make sure there’s no respiratory issues.” His eyes go wide. He’s standing close to your desk, so when you reach toward him without a second thought, it’s easy to touch his hand delicately. “Yeontan will be okay. Namjoon – Doctor Kim is a wonderful vet. I’d even trust him with me.”

Taehyung deflates a little, letting out a slow breath and giving you a shaky smile. Your hand is warm where your fingers touch the top of his. You snatch your hand away, realizing how inappropriate it is to touch guests without asking.

Clearing your throat, you gesture to the waiting chairs in front of your desk. He nods and takes one, knee bouncing up and down as he begins scrolling on his phone, chewing his bottom lip.

You try to get some filing done and paperwork sent out while Taehyung waits, but it is nearly impossible. His presence eats up the room. You can smell the faint lavender and rose – a surprisingly light scent for a man who radiates something akin to power.

Now that his eyes aren’t on you, you study him over the top of your computer. His really is dressed well and the watch on his wrist that glints in the light looks expensive. He types away furiously on his phone, looking up occasionally to look at the door where the vet tech took Yeontan.

When he looks for the tenth time, you snort.

“Mr. Kim, looking at the door won’t make it any faster. It’s been ten minutes.”

“Well you said it wouldn’t take long.”

“I said it wouldn’t take long, not that it would be miraculously fast.” He sends a frown your way. You squirm under his gaze. “I spy, with my little eye, something…. Green.”

His frown deepens. “What?”

“I spy something green. Come on, you never played I spy as a kid?”

“No.”

“Well do you know how it works?”

“In theory.”

“Then what do I spy, Mr. Kim?”

His lips are rosebud pink. You wonder if they’re always that color, soft like a petal, or if perhaps its just the contrast from his tan skin. The corner of his mouth tilts upward and he raises his brow. You raise yours in return, determined to take his mind off of the obvious stress he is showing, and to entertain yourself – he is the only other person in the room.

Sighing and narrowing his eyes, Taehyung looks around the room with a renewed focus. He begins naming the obvious things – plants, books, magazines, the spray on the shelving that you sell, pictures on the wall.

Taehyung grows frustrated. You lean your chin on your hands, content to watch him purse his lips as he looks around the room.

“I think you’re cheating,” he finally concludes.

You gasp and sit up straight. “I am not cheating! I would never do such a thing.”

“I have named everything in this room that is green!”

“You have not, sir.”

“You can call me Taehyung.

You’re caught off guard by how nice he is. Though you have seen Taehyung in interviews and your friends cannot stop talking about how handsome he is, you did not entirely expect his.

He crosses his arms. “Sir is my father. I’d like it if you called me Taehyung.”

Your stomach flips a little at that. “You have not named everything in this room that is green, or you would have guess it already.” He rolls his eyes upward and you grin. “Keep guessing, Taehyung.”

“You haven’t told me your name.”

“You get my name when you find the green object in question.”

Taehyung’s face scrunches up. You fold your mouth, suppressing the urge to laugh. He looks so different than the man on the magazines. While rationally, you know what you cannot judge a book by its cover, you didn’t expect him to be… endearing.

“I’m going to tell Joon to hire a new admin.”

“Start guessing. The clock is ticking.”

Before Taehyung can make a guess, the door behind you opens. You turn as Namjoon comes out with Taehyung looking around dreamily in his arms. Taehyung shoots to his feet, approaching Namjoon with a friendly familiarity.

“Allergic reaction,” Namjoon tells Taehyung. “Has Merallta used a new cleaner or anything with rosemary in it?”

“Yes, she switched to a more environmentally friendly cleaner.”

“I think that’s what it is. While I admire your efforts to save the world one cleaner at a time, Tae, switch back to the old one.” Namjoon holds Yeontan out to Taehyung, who takes the puppy carefully in his arms. He kisses the Pomeranian on the head briefly. “I gave him some antihistamines, so he’ll be pretty sleepy. Let me know if the rash and swelling get worse.”

“Thanks, Joon.”

“No problem. Tell your brother I said hello. It’s on the house – I’ll send his report over in the morning.”

Namjoon leaves to the back. Taehyung nuzzles Yeontan slightly – you smile and look away, cheeks heating at the sight. While you are certainly not working the grave yard shift at the animal hospital for the men and their pets, it does help.

Taehyung approaches the desk, absently stroking Taehyung’s fur lightly.

“So what was it?”

“Hmm?”

“The object.”

“I guess you will never know.”

“But I wanted to know your name.”

“Hmm.” You giving him a thoughtful look. “I suppose I can take pity on you this one time. It’s y/n.”

“Y/n,” he repeats. “Cute.”

“Thanks, my parents gave it to me.”

He smirks. “I wasn’t talking about the name.” He glances you up and down and you feel a flush through your cheek and neck. Suddenly, your desk area is too warm and your hands feel clammy and sticky. “Have a great evening. And thanks.”

“For what?”

“Distracting me,” he smiles.

You watch Taehyung leave while cooing at Yeontan. Cute. He called you cute. While it feels novel, you know that it means nothing. Because though you shared a few moments with Kim Taehyung, someone that most women and men alike would kill for, it doesn’t mean anything. It is a moment you’ll think about later when you go home and stare at the leaky ceiling of your apartment, but chances are that Kim Taehyung will never think about it again.

You’re just not in the same world.

Pressing your fingers into your temples, you close your eyes. You want to forget the number on the bill, to pretend that you can’t see it. But even behind closed eyes, you see the daunting figures there.

You always knew that being an adult is work. You never realized that being an adult is work, and then additionally constantly worrying about weather or not you were going to be able to pay a bill. With the way the world is going, rent is already impossibly high, gas is so bad you started taking the train to your weekend job despite it often making you late, and electricity is going through the roof.

Something about gas being more expensive worldwide – though in reality, you know that it was another reason for corporations to squeeze money out of the masses.

God. You’re starting to sound like Yoongi, thinking that way. On his worst nights, he nurses a glass of terrible whiskey and pretends he's been able to afford something smoother, and rants about the way the world is built to crush anyone who isn’t in the one percent.

While you're inclined to agree with him, it's something that you try not to consider.

Yoongi comes stumbling out of his make-shift room, hoodie pulled up over his head. You look up at him. His face is swollen with sleep, eyes barely open. His black hair is hanging in his face – you realize you're going to need to give him a haircut soon – and he has dark circles under his eyes again.

Wordlessly, you slide a cup of coffee over to him that you had poured five minutes prior. It’s how he likes it – single splash of milk, no sugar. He grunts and takes the mug, sipping and making a face.

“It’s a shitty brand,” you defend before he can complain. “I don’t know what you want from me.”

“Can’t you steal coffee from work?”

“Yeah right. Brian takes employee theft so seriously. Hoseok took a cup of tea home with him when he wasn’t on break and Brian threatened to fire him.”

“Brian is a prick.”

“Yeah, well he’s a middle-aged white man running a coffee shop owned by a corporation.”

Yoongi huffs. “Fair. Are you at the vet today or the coffee shop?”

“Coffee shop.” You pause, chewing on your lip. Slowly, you push the electricity bill over to your roommate. He looks at it before choking on his coffee, holding the piece of paper closer to his face as though he is reading the numbers wrong. “Yeah.”

“We already keep this place on fucking 80 and unplug all of our shit.”

“I know.” He slams the bill down on the counter.

Living with Yoongi has always had perks. He’s silent, he’s incredibly clean, he minds his business, and most importantly, pays half of the rent. But over the last few years as you searched for writing jobs to better support you than working four days a week at a vet desk and three days a week – sometimes four – at a coffee shop, you’ve been unlucky.

Yoongi is already working insane hours at a music store down the street, pulling extra shifts to do inventory and working holidays. With the money between you, you are just making rent and bills with enough left over to pay for food and one or two miscellaneous items.

And things just keep going up. Rent. Gas. Food. Utilities. Neither of you have insurance – you suffer through cold months hoping you don’t get respiratory infections and you cannot image what either one of you will do when the air conditioning finally bites the dust. It’s been leaking freon for months, kicking on and off at odd times.

“I’m going to apply to that corner store.” He runs a hand over his face. “I’ll head there today-"

“Yoongi, you have so much going on with music, no. I’ll pick up extra shifts.”

But he’s already shaking his head and waving you off. “You can’t. You’re already going straight from one place to the other already. Music can wait. It’s not like it’s getting me fucking anywhere.” His tone is final. You deflate. “We’ll be fine.”

Yoongi’s words play in your head on loop as you finish paying your student loans on your phone while riding the train to the coffee shop. You’re working the afternoon shift on a Saturday, which is a bit unusual for you, but someone put the shift up for grabs and you weren’t going to turn down money.

Grey skies stretch overhead. You can smell the rain on the air as you tie an apron around your waist, standing in the grimy alleyway that leads to the back of Sugar’d, a ridiculously named and ridiculously overpriced coffee shop. It’s one of many in the city, but it’s the closest to your apartment downtown.

It smells like sticky syrup and food when you enter through the backdoor. You don’t know how else to describe the smell to anyone who has never worked in food and beverage. There is a specific scent that carries throughout the concrete floors always wet somewhere from a sink or sanitary machine leaking, and there are endless amounts of spilled syrup and residual whipped cream from someone opening a new canister wrong.

Hoseok glances up as you walk front of house. It smells like coffee grinds and vanilla – a scent you actually enjoy. The small café is decorated in muted neutrals and browns. Tinted windows make it darker inside than it really is as the storm clouds gather outside.

A single patron sits in the corner of the café with headphones tucked in his ears and knees pulled up into the chair, book in front of him capturing his attention entirely. Hoseok tosses you a rag as you walk up.

“Please help me wipe down. We haven’t had a chance since the rush earlier and Jungkook exploded like three cans of whipped cream and broke a syrup bottle.”

You grimace but take the rag anyways, always willing to help. “Where is the kid anyway? You let him go early?”

“After the morning he had? Yeah. He was going to go work on some paintings anyway. He has someone interested in showing his work.”

You nod and give a noncommittal hum. Jungkook is the only other coworker beside Hoseok that you love dearly. He’s at your apartment most days, sleeping on your couch instead of the very flat mattress that lays on the floor of the kitchen of a studio apartment he shares with three other guys.

Young, dumb and broke, you used to joke when you first met him during orientation at the coffee shop. He is desperately trying to finish art school which he is on a scholarship for, but it only covers the books and the classes. He is totally on his own with rent and other living necessities and he is no better off than you or Yoongi.

Every movement has a steady rhythm. You let yourself get carried away in the mindless task, making a face when you realize just how sticky the back of the bakery case is. You work in silence, letting the carefully curated playlist that Brian insists stay on pull you into a focus. You’re tired, but you’re content.

A sheet of rain begins pelting the window. You stand up from where you had been crouching, pausing a moment to watch it come down in opaque sheets. The windows blur with the rain, drawing the attention of the patron in the corner and Hoseok for just as second as lightning flashes, purple and white against the windows.

Thunder hums as someone rips open the front door to the café, a gust of wind and mist chasing him as he closes the door, panting and cursing. He turns to look at the storm behind him before looking to see where he has entered to escape the torrential onslaught.

You blink in surprise.

A very wet, yet still divine Kim Taehyung stands in the entry way. He’s looking around, golden hair a few shades dark and heavy with rainwater. He’s dressed in all black again, except this time he sports no jacket. A black button up tucked into black pants with a black vest over the top. There’s a glittering gold pocket watch pinned to the vest, making you tilt your head. How… fashionable.

“I can’t promise coffee will dry you off,” you call to him, surprising yourself by speaking. He looks at you and you see surprise followed by a smile flash across his face. You feel blush creeping up your neck immediately as he approached, shaking the water off his hands. “But it might warm you a bit.”

“What a delightful surprise.”

“Is it?”

“A surprise? Of course it is.”

Taehyung wet is more stunning than he is dry. He stands on the other side of the counter from you, crossing his arms with now wet sleeves that stick to him like a second skin. Running a single hand through his hair, he gives you a wide smile, but you’re too hypnotized by the simple act of brushing his hair back to hear what he says.

“What?”

He smirks. “I said it’s nice to see you again.”

You are acutely aware that Hoseok is watching the two of you from the corner of his eye. He has been wiping the same steamer nozzle for the last two minutes, his motions lazy and unconcerned.

“You too. Though I’m sorry you’re all wet.”

“You know, if I knew you better, I might think that’s a euphemism for something.”

Your eyes fly wide. “Oh gosh – sorry. It’s not, I didn’t mean-"

His laughter creases his eyes as he holds his hands up, allaying your fears. “I’m just poking fun at you.” He glances at the rain pelting the windows. “I suppose I should have checked the weather.”

You hum. “Don’t you have all that fancy software to do those things for you?”

There’s a twinkle in his eye. “You’ve caught me on an off day.”

“Sorry to hear. Can I get you anything?”

Taehyung seems to think about it. “What’s your favorite coffee?”

“I don’t think we’re going to have the same taste.”

He leans on the counter with his elbows, bent over slightly as he holds his chin in his hand. He looks up at you through long, dark lashes and you feel your breath quicken. “Why’s that?”

“I like my coffee terribly sweet.”

His eyes darken and he drags them up and down your figure. You hold your breath. “I like all kinds of things that are sweet.”

“Is that like, built in?”

“What?”

“The switch you flip when you start to flirt. Is that built in or did you learn that?”

He folds his mouth to stop his laughter. “I don’t know what to say.”

“You could order a coffee? I’ll even throw it in for free.”

“Really? So the flirting worked.”

“I’ll give you free coffee if you can guess what I spy: it is tall and shameless.”

His laugh is rich and deep. You smile, chewing the corner of your lip as you watch the way humor makes him light up. “Alright, no free coffee for flirting, then. I will take a vanilla latte, though.”

Taehyung does pay. You don’t actually try to give him free coffee. Kim Taehyung could buy the city if he wanted. But you do try and protest when he shoves a fifty-dollar bill in the tip jar, swatting at his hand. You lose the battle.

You set about making his order, trying to stop the smile on your face. Hoseok is on you in a second as Taehyung trails to the wall of vinyl records hanging on the west side of the shop. He elbows you and you glare at him, trying to give him eyes that say shut the fuck up he’s right there.

Hoseok is persistent.

“What the fuck?” he whisper yells at you. “That’s Kim Taehyung. How do you know Kim Taehyung? You share a one bedroom apartment downtown that you converted with an airwall and he….”

“Owns the biggest tech company in the world with his family? Yeah, got it.”

“How the fuck did you meet him?”

“He brought his dog into the vet a week ago.”

“Did you hear about-"

“Yes,” you hiss and Hoseok has the decency to blush and mouth sorry as you finish making Taehyung’s coffee. “Stop making it weird.

It makes sense why Hoseok is freaking out.

Though you and Yoongi don’t own cable, you do have the internet. And you can read magazines at the corner store while you’re waiting for the unbearably slow cashier moves to scan your late night snack.

Kim Taehyung is mostly known as a tech mogul and for his leadership of his and his father’s company, Kim Tech. You've seen him all over social media at events, galas, movie premiers, and charity showings. Taehyung is always alone, making him the city’s – no the world’s – most eligible bachelor. He keeps a relatively private life outside of his social responsibility, keeping off social media and managing to keep himself out of the press on a normal day.

Until three months ago.

You remember your brows shooting up into your hairline when you read the headlines.

Kim Taehyung Slammed for Paying for Sex

Daddy? Kim Taehyung is Not Sorry as he Pays Sugar Babies

Life is Sweet – and Full of Sugar For Kim Taehyung

You can’t imagine why someone who looks the way Taehyung does has to pay someone for sex. Yoongi had wondered aloud one day on the couch about it, laughing at the fact that in a world where people like Kim Taehyung existed, maybe Yoongi was better at sex than a billionaire and that’s why Taehyung paid men and women.

And there were men and women.

Watching the horrible, disgusting things being posted and said about his sexual preferences turned your stomach. It was like the media were hyenas in wait, lurking for any scrap of meat they could tear from Taehyung’s bones.

At one point, it seemed like people were angrier that Taehyung was bisexual than the fact that he was involved in elicit and morally-questionable sexual activities. You went home after train rides of hearing people talking about it, letting their hate rot in your stomach until you felt sick.

Why did people care so much?

There was no answer.

So you tried not to get too deep into the articles, interviews and social media rantings that the woman in question was participating in. Taehyung's ex-sugar baby was going on any tell-all she could get herself invited to, sharing her truth: Kim Taehyung pays for sex and relationships.

The thought strikes you like an adder as you reach out to hand him his coffee. Suddenly you can’t meet his eyes and your hand trembles when he accepts the cup with steady hands and a warm smile. Warmth is the last thing you expect from someone known for being a hard ass in his company and paying thousands of dollars for the company of others.

“Smells amazing.”

It shocks you when he speaks. You had been going down the rabbit hole of thoughts when he gives you another grin before turning over his shoulder and looking out the window. The rain has fallen to a very light mist, manageable without an umbrella.

“I guess I should go to my meeting.”

“That seems pertinent.”

His mouth twitches at the corner. “I hope you have a good day, Y/N.”

Taehyung does not have a good day. Being drenched in the rain starts him off on the wrong foot, though he hopes seeing you meant that it was turning around. You had been a pleasant surprise, both at the veterinary office when you provided him with a brief moment of respite, and again with the subtle humor you offered at the coffee shop.

Fate is not something Taehyung believes in. Hard work, dedication, sacrifices and putting aside desires is what got him and his father to where they were. It was what makes Taehyung’s world turn round. There is no pre-determined destiny marching him down his path.

But as he leaves the coffee shop, a little bit drier and definitely much warmer, Taehyung things that it is a funny little coincidence to have seen you twice in a week. Especially that you remember him, though he has to remind himself that he is not a fraction as invisible as he wishes he was.

The rest of the walk to the crumbling parking garage he intends to buy and condemn to build a new facility strictly dedicated to MAIA isn’t unpleasant. The air is a little humid and the sun doesn’t come out, but it doesn’t douse him with rain again. He made the mistake of wanting to take public transportation to the meeting sight as a way to show that he was, in fact, a human being in touch with reality.

In the heart of downtown, the new site is surrounded by neighborhoods in need. He would need an entirely new staff, and Taehyung has spent months building a proposal and financial reports: how he's going to make it work, what he wants the company culture to look like, what kind of financials they need to produce to pay livable wages, what their hiring standards need to be like.

Unlike his father, Taehyung had come back from university liberal. It drove his father and most of the members of the board to no end that Taehyung wasn’t a blood-sucking vampire who wanted to bleed the masses to fill his pockets.

Taehyung’s pockets have been full his entire fucking life. He doesn’t need more.

If there is a single thing that he likes about himself, it’s his need to try and make the world a little less unsufferable. He won’t admit that to anyone, but his actions speak for him.

Which is why he had taken public fucking transportation this afternoon to meet with the man who owns the garage. Taehyung is in a bit of a bidding war with a property management company that wants to replace the out-of-use garage with a new, loft-style apartment complex.

Taehyung already has his argument and a ton of financial reports ready for his meeting: the apartment complex is going to be priced out of range for any of the local residents looking for a place to rent. It’s another building that will cost millions to build, and then sit empty because no one can afford to live in it. It will bring in no jobs, no incremental revenue, and ultimately be a waste of space.

The problem? The owner of the parking garage is certainly not fond of Taehyung, and already seems to have an idea of what Kim Taehyung stands for.

Can he blame him? No. The entire fucking city now knows that for the last two years, he has been fucking paying for relationships. The ethical conversations are through the roof and there are now thousands of people calling him a sick fuck, preying on people who they think are beneath him.

In fact, he had read an incredibly insightful article about just how awful he is, abusing his power and money to exploit the poor.

Except every single person Taehyung has ever had a contract with is very much not in need of money and are some of the most recommended escorts in the city – perhaps the fucking country.

The smell of wet pavement chases him into the shadows of the parking garage, where Malcolm is standing and scrolling through his phone. He’s dressed modestly in jeans, a shirt and a blazer thrown over it, his orange-hued beard trimmed neatly and eyes unfocused behind owl-like glasses.

“Malcolm,” Taehyung greets politely. He keeps the warmth out of his voice. Being friendly or overly welcoming is not going to win him the purchase of the building. Straight finances and economics is going to. “It’s good to see you.”

Malcom looks up at him and frowns. “I’m sorry – I thought we cancelled this meeting?”

Taehyung pauses. “No, it was still on my calendar. My apologies – if we cancelled then why are you here?”

“Mr. Kim, there seems to be a misunderstanding. I called your office two days ago to cancel. I’ve decided to pass on your acquisition of the building and sell to GreyStar.”

Taehyung feels a vein tick in his jaw. “I see. I’ll have to connect with my admin on that. I was under the impression you were excited to discuss a possible sale to Kim Tech. May I ask why you changed your mind.”

Malcolm stares at him, brown eyes squinting. “It’s just ethics.”

“Ethics?”

“You hire prostitutes, Mr. Kim. I have no desire to be affiliated with that.”

“Fuck,” Jimin says. “He said that?”

“Yeah he fucking said that,” Taehyung snaps. They’re at Taehyung’s private bar in the backyard of his villa. Behind them, the sun sets over the world, rolling green hills looking as though they’re on fire. Jimin swears again and sips the martini carefully. “There was no fucking message for me about cancelling the meeting.”

Jimin winces. “It’s… Carina. She hasn’t been going through all the voicemails.”

“Hyeon’s niece that he hired out of nepotism?”

“That’s the one.”

“Fire her.” Jimin groans, throwing his head back up, dark hair falling. “I’m serious, Jimin. I let it slide because Hyeon does good work but that is exactly the fucking opposite of what my human resources department is supposed to be doing. She’s been working here for five months and can’t listen to a fucking voicemail.”

“Yeah, yeah. I’ll work on it.”

They both know by now that when Jimin say’s that he’ll work on it, he will absolutely do it.

Jimin is an unlikely friend to Taehyung. He had been a model when they met – struggling to pay bills despite being one of the most rapidly growing faces on high-end magazines and social media. Worse – Jimin hated modeling. Hated the way people thought that he was vapid and conceited, hated the way he felt as though he was selling his body, soul and his mind for the job.

Taehyung thinks Jimin is so fucking smart. They had met at a charity gala for some large organization that Kim Tech made annual donations to. They’d been sat at the same table, and Taehyung couldn’t help but marvel at the way Jimin let the other men and women at the table think that he was utterly helpless and offer him all sorts of things: my sister’s friend’s cousin works at Vogue, I’ll give her a call; my wife’s cousin-once-removed has an apartment in Paris, you must stay their next month on your trip.

People doled out offers and favors to him after a subtle word, a blush on his cheeks, or simple wide eyes.

You’re a fucking hustler, Taehyung had laughed when he sidled up next to Jimin at the bar. Come work for me. You’re fucking smarter than everyone else at that table, and I need an admin who can shark everyone like that.

At first, Jimin had resisted. He thought that perhaps Taehyung was another pretty-faced boy with a rich daddy who was trying to get in his pants. Only two of three of those things were true, and to this day, Taehyung had never in his life made a sexual advance on Jimin.

Now, they're best friends. Jimin is Taehyung’s personal assistant, but he's so much more than that. He's a lifeline, someone who keeps Taehyung’s life in order, someone who can be brutally honest with him without Taehyung getting upset, someone who can help Taehyung navigate the insane lows and the moderate highs of his current lifestyle.

And Jimin ia impossibly good at his job, even if he's no longer the one answering the front desk line or checking voicemails when the likes of Malcolm called the company line instead of Taehyung directly. (A move that Taehyung thinks is deliberate).

“I should meet with an image consultant like my father says,” Taehyung sighs. He knocks back the rest of the whiskey. It goes down smooth, the burn pleasant. It’s his first of the night, but after losing the new space for expanding MAIA, he needs another. “Fix my fucked-up media presence. It’s obviously effecting my job more than I thought. Maybe I should step down.”

“Please spare me the dramatics.” Jimin glances at Taehyung from the corner of his eye. The older man is dressed in a light, white shirt that is open at the collar and tucked into jeans. Though he no longer models, it doesn’t make his style or beauty any less effortless. “You should ask Jin if there’s a division that’s dedicated to making you look better.”

“I love Jin but I will never use Eden again.”

“You know, since everyone thinks you’re this terrible, sex maniac who preys on the weak-“

“Get to the point fast.”

“And they think you’re like this cold, hateful vampire who is just rich and unkind.”

“The point, Jimin. The point.”

“Just maybe you should perhaps find a nice person and date them.”

Taehyung looks at him, brow arched. “Excuse me?”

“I am serious. You’re someone who has never had a partner seriously. If you actually found someone nice and-“

“I don’t date.”

Jimin pushes on, undaunted. “If you managed to be in a relationship that was healthy, and with a nice person, people might think differently. People love that shit. Someone who has saved the bad boy – who has turned around the heartless CEO.”

“You’ve come up with these insults rather quickly.”

Jimin sips his martini and makes a face. “I’m online all the time, these aren’t things I think.”

“Whatever. I don’t date.”

“Ever think that might be the problem, Tae?”

Of course Taehyung has never thought that his lack of dating was the problem, but the words chase him for a week straight. Taehyung thinks about it as he showers every night, and as he laying in bed with a diffuser pumping as much lavender in the air as it can.

Dating isn’t for him. He doesn’t have time for it. It’s an inconvenience. It’s not that he doesn’t want that connection with someone. He’s not hiding. He just doesn’t know how to give enough of himself over to someone without them becoming attached and offended that he works more than he has time for anything else.

It wouldn’t be fair. Right?

Jimin’s words plague him so much that without really making a decision, Taehyung drives downtown. The choice to leave the house on a work-from-home day is on a complete whim. It comes after a call where he had to tell his board of directors he still had not found a home for MAIA, but he's working on it.

Dressed in jeans and a loose, patterned button-up, Taehyung walks into Sugar’d before he even realizes where he is. He doesn’t know your schedule, and he realizes that perhaps he should have called the vet’s office to see if you were there.

Luck has it, you’re behind the counter talking to a coworker of yours. Afternoon sun shines through the window, hitting you just right that for a moment, you seem suspended in time. Your hair shines, pulled up and you smile at something your coworker says to you. Your laugh is warm and relaxed, not forced or practiced.

Jimin’s words nip at Taehyung’s heels as he approaches the counter, eyes darting back and forth between you and the man next to you. Neither have really noticed Taehyung yet, and he can’t help but get suddenly shy and worry that perhaps you have a romantic relationship with the tall, dark-haired and tattooed guy.

You turn to greet him, eyes crinkling at the corner with your smile before you blink in surprise. Your eyes get round and your mouth forms the perfect ‘o’ as you look at him.

“Hi,” you greet, giving him a toothy smile. “What a surprise.”

“What can I say, I really liked the vanilla coffee.”

“Huh. I’ll tell Hoseok. He’s the one who taught me to make them.” Taehyung’s eyes trail to the guy standing behind you watching with narrowed eyes. “That’s Jungkook. He has taught me absolutely nothing.”

“Untrue. I taught you how to use acrylic paint.”

“He taught me how to use acrylic paint poorly.”

Taehyung’s brows are raised as he watches the way you throw a glance over your shoulder at Jungkook. The man seems to get whatever face you’re making and rolls his eyes, backing away. He gives Taehyung a lingering stare. Territorial, almost.

“Same order?”

“Yeah, thank you.”

“You know, it’s free if you can-"

“Spy the shameless asshole?”

You smirk. “Today it’s an object. Something…” You look around and he has a moment to notice the way you're slightly flushed. You look a little tired, but there’s an eagerness he likes. Cute. “Brown.”

Taehyung glances around. “There is quite a lot of brown.”

“You’re a big tech CEO, you’ll figure it out.”

Taehyung stares for a moment. You cock a brow at him. What comes out of his mouth next surprises him as much as it seems to surprise you. “Go out with me.”

“What?”

“You know, like on a date. Two people enjoying an activity in which they get to know one another, usually with romantic intention.”

“Thanks, Webster, I know what a date is.”

You narrow your eyes at him before looking down at the register to tap in his order. Your silence makes his heart thunder, and Taehyung decides that he is going to absolutely throttle Jimin when he does home. His abrupt question is driven by the long-lasting damage of his previous activities, and Jimin is right – someone nice wouldn’t be terrible for him.

“Guess what I spy correctly and perhaps I’ll think about it.”

“Winning doesn’t get me a yes?”

“Not everything worth having is so easily given, Kim Taehyung.”

He feels chastened. Your voice isn’t impolite, but it’s careful. You glance up at him, eyes soft. Glowing. Expectant.

Once more, Taehyung looks around and his eyes settle on a record. He points at it and says, “That album.”

You grin at him and for a blissful moment, Taehyung thinks he’s won. His triumph plummets as you answer, “Nope,” popping the ‘p’ particularly hard. “There’s always next time.”

“He’s here again,” Jungkook mutters as he walks through the back. You’re sitting on a half-caved in box chewing on a sandwich when you look up from your phone. Jungkook crosses his arms over his broad chest, as he adds, “Kim. The big CEO.”

Swallowing your sandwich becomes difficult as your throat goes dry. It’s the dozenth time that Kim Taehyung has come to the coffee shop in a matter of a few weeks, and he has entertained your little ‘I spy’ game every time.

Every time he shows up you’re still surprised. Sometimes he’s in business suits and is particularly in a hurry, rushing through his guesses. Other times, he’s dressed a touch more casual, but still just as elegant as always.

You give him the same color every time. He’s named the most obvious things in the café at this point: the drink sleeves, the tables, the cookies in the case, the caramel syrup. He still hasn’t managed to guess what you spy that is brown, and you’ve purposefully done it.

Because while he is warm with you and according to your coworkers, has come on multiple days that you’re not there, something about him seems like a giant red flag. You’ve looked into him more now that he has turned into a regular customer.

What there is to find isn’t the best. The recent news is a total mess with rumors, additional allegations and of course, the big scandal.

But it’s what's before that looks just as unpromising: pictures where he does not smile much, interviews where he is abrupt and to the point. He looks so different from the version of him that you get at the cash register that it throws you that he can be two such different people.

Wiping your hands on your apron, you sigh. “I can always kick him out,” Jungkook offers. “He brings really good tips though.”

“Wow, your loyalty can be bought?”

“I have bills.”

It’s a joke, but it hits a little too close to home.

You pat Jungkook’s arm as you walk out, looking Taehyung up and down as he waits with his hands tucked into the pocket of a pair of ripped jeans. Today he’s in a plain white t-shirt, though you’re sure it’s designer, and his hair is soft and hanging in his eyes.

Beautiful.

His smile is infectious when he sees you. you can’t help it as the corner of your mouth curls upward, typing in his order. He gets the same thing every time, a vanilla latte with no alterations. You already see the ridiculously large bill in the tip jar, making you roll your eyes.

“I spy, with my little-"

“My eyes.”

You look up at Taehyung sharply, your mouth open. “You know, I kept going home and really thinking about it. Tried to think what in the hell you would pick that was so difficult. Because you see, you didn’t want me to guess it. You wanted to present me with a challenge, an answer that was impossible for me to guess. It could have been something you were changing every time we play, but you don’t seem like the type to play dirty. I bet you admire being fair.”

“You think so?”

He leans on the counter, a wolfish grin on his face. “I do think so. So it got me thinking: if she wants an impossible game that is still fair, it needs to be something that I’m not seeing. And that’s when I realized it: you spy something brown. My eyes.”

Taehyung is smug as you look him up and down. You cross your arms. You really didn’t expect him to get it, but Taehyung is absolutely right. The answer had been his eyes: brown, but not dark brown all the time. Sometimes they were light brown, like dark honey turned to liquid. Other times his eyes were dark like the roasted grinds behind you, fathomless and endless.

Right now, they were glittering brown, almost gold with giddiness that he has cracked the code. You really hadn’t expected him to get it, but you remember that he’s a leading mind in his tech company. Though there is a single screen in the back office dedicated to a security system run by KAIA and you have the software on your phone (who doesn’t) you’re mostly unfamiliar with his work.

“So did I get it?”

You tap a finger on your arm. “You did.”

It’s hard not to be enamored by his grin. He wears his victory subtly, though there is a new tilt to his chin and a strength in his shoulders as he straightens them and says, “So you’ll consider going out with me, then?”

“I don’t know.” He offers you his credit card and you shake your head. “You won.”

“It was never about the free coffee.” He lowers his voice and you feel your heart flutter. “Trust me, there were much higher stakes.”

Hesitantly, you take his card and run it. When you hand it back, Taehyung’s long fingers brush yours lightly. It’s like a spark jumps between the two of you, your eyes flickering up to meet his. He’s frozen for a single moment before he’s looking down, tucking the card in his wallet.

“What kind of date did you have in mind?”

“Simple dinner.”

“Simple?”

“Simple,” he promises. “Just one night. Please.”

Taking a long, deep breath, you let it out. You know it’s a bad idea. You know it is, but you want to do it. You feel it in your gut that something is going to go wrong. You’ve always believed in fate, though, and it feels like someone is putting Taehyung in front of you over and over again. Is making him determined.

You take that leap of faith and nod once. “When?”

“I’m going to vomit.”

Yoongi looks alarmed when you say it, sitting up on your bed as though you’re going to puke right onto him. Instead, you’re pacing in front of your closet, which is shoved so tight with clothes and items that it looks like a bulging pinata.

The best thing about your room is that it does not look as desolate as it could. While Yoongi’s room is an absolute nightmare – mattress on the floor, hand-me-down furniture bought at consignment stores and an airwall that took you both a week to install in the living room correctly – yours looks thoughtfully designed in muted pinks, tans and greens.

“Do I need to?” Yoongi vaguely gestures to the bed and you shake your head. He visibly relaxes into your mattress, which is better of the two in the apartment. “What’s the big deal now? You already said yes to the date.”

“He told me simple – Yoongi we’re going to Límon.”

“Holy fuck. That’s simple to him?”

You let out a loud shriek.

Límon is not only a five-star restaurant – it’s the top of the fine dining list in the city with a waiting list of months and months at a time, and a has been given five Michelin stars. It’s a Hispanic fusion restaurant that sits at the top of The Mandarin Hotel in the business district, and it is wildly expensive.

You begin to sweat. You should have known that simple to Kim Taehyung was a ridiculously fancy dinner. You have no idea what in your closet would even be passable for dinner – are you supposed to dress formal? Is there a dress code? There has to be a dress code.

Yoongi remains cool as a cucumber after his initial surprise. Peeling himself from your bed while you sit and bend over with your head between your legs, he goes through your options meticulously. You’re too busy hyperventilating to see the options he’s pulling.

Had you known that he was going to take you somewhere exclusive to a tax section you would never see, you would have said no. You debate texting him and telling him that you can’t go. That you’re going to pull an extra shift somewhere and that you’re unavailable for the night.

You type out the excuse. Delete it. Type another one and then delete that.

Because even though you are absolutely panicking, there is intrigue there. The worst thing that can happen is that Taehyung is horrible just like the media thinks he is, or he finds you completely boring and unsatisfactory.

You have a significant amount of money at the moment in case of emergency and being stiffed with part of the bill, direct results from his insane tipping at the coffee shop. But he doesn’t seem like the type for that.

So you put on the black slip dress that Yoongi suggests. Something you’ve worn once but definitely got taken home in. The strap is a little frayed so you wear your hair down to hide it. Your heels are a little scuffed but with some buffing via generic brand paper towel, they look less scratched and more shine.

Nerves eat away at you when you text Taehyung your address. Though you gave him your number at the coffee shop, his texting was incredibly minimal and to the point. So clinical that it almost felt like you were making a doctor’s appointment until he answered your address send.

Kim Taehyung: Oo she lives downtown. Is she artsy?

Me: No, she took what she could afford 🤪

Kim Taehyung: You’re cute

Me: I’m not as cute when I’m hungry…

Kim Taehyung: Five minutes, angel

The finished product isn’t bad by any means when you look in the mirror. Yoongi is on his way out and escorts you downstairs through the winding stairwell that smells like cigarettes and the cat piss because Ms. Norris keeps dumping her liter outside.

Taehyung is just outside your building, leaning against a sleek black car. It’s cliché, really. The black sports car, the black three-piece suit with the gold timepiece pinned again. He’s looking down on his phone as you walk on unsteady feat.

Seeing him hits you with a sudden sense of imposter syndrome. You shouldn’t be going out on a date with Kim Taehyung. The man who clearly doesn’t know how to date, and who has taken an interest in you because… well you don’t know why. Which is part of the problem.

You hesitate, but Yoongi nudges you before walking toward his beat up Honda. “Call me, yeah?”

It’s code for call me if you need me at any time, at any second.

“Yeah,” you agree waving him off.

Taehyung’s eyes are on Yoongi for a moment. He watches your roommate with an unreadable expression before his eyes drift over to you. He slides a hand in his pocket, letting his dark eyes look you up and down. And then up and down again. You almost shiver under his gaze – he hasn’t looked at you like that before.

“You look beautiful.” Taehyung pushes off the car, opening the door and offering you a hand. Shyly, you walk forward and take it, letting him help you sit in the cool, leather interior of the car. “You look like absolute heaven.”

“You look pretty good yourself.”

“I always look good.” Taehyung grins before he gently closes the door to the car.

You have no idea what kind of car or model it is, but the screen hums with the KAIA system and it smells cleaner than any other car you’ve been in before. Taehyung slides into the drivers seat, offering you a lopsided grin as he puts it in gear and drives.

Nerves fade away as you chat on the drive there. Taehyung looks effortlessly handsome, one hand on the wheel and the other on the gear shift. He doesn’t move to hold your hand or touch your thigh, and you’re grateful because you’re sweating absolute bullets from your anxiety and because it took effort to get dressed.

Taehyung is an easy person to talk to. You almost forget where you’re going as he tells you about his search to find a new building for his company’s MAIA project. He doesn’t think it’s a stupid question when you ask what that is.

His way of speak entrances you. His voice is dulcet and smooth, a rich baritone that you could listen to all night. Taehyung is confident when he speaks, and confident when he pulls up to the hotel and has valet take the car. He’s quick to open your door and help you out, delicately taking your hand in his.

This time, Taehyung doesn’t let go of your hand. You look up at him, eyes slightly rounded as he hands his keys to the valet who seem to be somewhat familiar with him. He looks down when he notices you’re staring at his side profile: sharp and shadowed and so beautiful that you think Jungkook would want to paint it.

“You okay?” he asks, brows furrowed. He squeezes your hand, which is warm. Your hand feels tiny in his, but you nod. He flashes a smile. “Great. Did you look at the menu beforehand?”

You almost expect him to drop your hand but he doesn’t.

Instead, Taehyung strides confidently into the hotel lobby and toward the elevator, warm fingers laced with yours. You nod and say, “It was a little overwhelming, to be honest with you.”

“Are there any hard no’s?” You snap your head toward him as he pushes the button to the elevator. He sees your expression and laughs. “With the menu. Although I’d like to know what exactly you thought I was talking about.”

“Ha ha.”

“Hey,” he jests as the elevator opens. “Your mind, not mine.”

Upstairs is a whole new world. You feel nervous in the intimate lighting. The rooftop is split between inside and outside. Taehyung leads you to the back half of the inside part, nodding at the hostess as he goes by.

You are not unaware that eyes are on you. Taehyung transforms as you pass by tables of curious eyes and people turning to look at him from the bar. He’s taller, suddenly and his face is inscrutable. The change is so sudden that you knock into someone’s chair, gasping and apologizing vehemently.

His hand is on your hip, steadying you and looked down at you with a softer expression than a moment before. His micro expressions make you dizzy as you assure him that you’re alright. He nods and his concern melts back into a cool exterior as he leads you to a very private room at the back, the two of you the only people inside.

Taehyung lets go of your hand and lets you walk over to the floor to glass ceiling windows. The entire world unrolls, a kingdom beneath his feet. Your breath fogs the glass for a moment before you find your seat across from him.

The table is directly next to you, city lights drawing your attention again as Taehyung orders a bottle of wine for you after asking your preference for white or red. You’ve barely looked at the menu, and when you draw your eyes away from the city to look at Taehyung, you freeze.

The menu hasn’t been touched, and he’s staring intensely at you. You suddenly feel small, squirming in your seat. Perhaps your hair doesn’t look right or he’s realized that bringing you here was a mistake. You adjust the hem of your dress and shift in the seat again, wondering if-

“Don’t do that.” You look back up at him. His gaze is burning – more intense than you have ever seen it before at the coffee shop. “You look divine. Don’t get nervous.”

“Well you’re looking at me like…”

He leans back in the seat. There is a cool confidence that is new to you. He’s always been confident, but this is different. Like he has shifted and is more comfortable being… sexy, perhaps is the word for it.

“Look at you like what?”

“So intensely.”

“I apologize. But you really do look like a work of art.”

Your neck flushes and you bite your bottom lip. To diver the attention you mention, “You know, when you said a simple date, this is not what I had in mind.”

“Dinner is as simple as it gets.” You snort. “What? Is it not?”

“I was thinking dinner at like – Outback Steakhouse.”

“I’ve… never been there.”

You pinch the bridge of your nose. “Of course you haven’t. We are from very different backgrounds.”

“Doesn’t mean much. I still think we share things in common.”

You throw him an amused look. “Like what?”

“Like… do you like cheese?”

“Yes I like cheese.”

“See!” he leans forward eagerly. “Match made in heaven.”

“Everyone likes cheese!”

“Untrue. You’d be surprised at how many people I know that don’t eat dairy products.”

Tension evaporates. Taehyung has a way of taking the pressure off, and though as you get to know him, there are still complete differences in your lives and where you’re at. It doesn’t bother you as much as you expect it to – you have no idea where this is going to go, or what he wants out of the date.

Feeling overwhelmed by the menu, you let Taehyung order for the two of you. He does so confidently and easily that you rub your thighs together at the cool aura he emits. Sleeping with him had not even occurred to you, but suddenly as he argues that Inception is not a terrible movie, you can’t stop thinking about it.

Dirty thoughts of Taehyung plague you the rest of the dinner, making you a blushing mess, especially when a little bit of wine slips down your chin and he leans forward to brush it with his thumb, bringing it up to his sultry mouth and swiping his tongue over the pad of his finger.

He looks at you dead in the eyes and murmurs, “Sweet.”

By the time you’re finished eating the best fucking meal of your life, the wine has you feeling warm. You lean back in your seat, needling Taehyung about his personal philosophies.

“I just don’t believe in fate!” He laughs, shaking his head. His gold hair is styled back again, single lock falling devilishly over his forehead. “There’s no way there is just a divine future for everything. Hard word is what gets us where we are.”

“You’re so nihilistic. What about for the things that aren’t as simple as hard work and a little bit of luck? Coincidences?”

“I think you put too much weight in coincidences.”

“And I think you could do with a little more magic in the world, Kim Taehyung. You have such a dry view of everything. Why?”

He shrugs a shoulder. It’s the first time that he doesn’t have a flirty answer. He grows quiet for a moment, spinning the red wine in his glass. You sip yours, waiting patiently as he finds the words.

“I don’t have time for the dreamy shit,” he says eventually. “My life is business and work and then extending that business and work, and bettering and furthering myself.”

“That sounds… boring.”

“Not really. I like being successful. I like creating. But it doesn’t leave room for the fantasies of romance and fate and love at first sight.”

“Why ask me out, then?”

“What do you mean?”

You set the glass of wine down. Your heart thuds loudly, amped by the alcohol and the warmth that is buzzing in your veins. You have a little confidence, putting meaning behind your voice when you ask, “Why ask me out if you don’t have time for romance?”

“Ah,” he laughs. “That.”

You frown. “Yeah? That.”

Taehyung lips his lips and resettles himself in his seat. He leans his elbows on the table, hands clasped and chin resting on top of them. The candle on the table reflects in his dark eyes, flickering and beautiful.

“I asked you out,” he says slowly. “Because you are wildly different than anyone I’ve been with before.”

“Like… poor?”

He guffaws. “No! That hasn’t crossed my mind for a second that we have different economics. Please don’t – fuck, don’t ever think that’s why I did. I meant that you’re incredibly kind, and firm in a soft way, and I don’t know. You seem genuine.”

“You’re not used to genuine?”

“In my line of work? No.”

You hum and chew on the inside of your cheek. The question hasn’t really been answered, though. So you push again. “Still, though. I’m different – but you don’t have time for romance? Or this is to make a friendship I just…” You lift a shoulder. “What do you want out of this, I guess is what I’m asking.”

“You value honesty, right?” You nod your head and he heaves a sigh. “I’m not stupid, I know you’ve probably heard about some things I’ve done. Both true and untrue, it doesn’t really matter. I meant what I said when I don’t have time for the romance. This, right now? It’s the first date I’ve been on in years. Me chasing you at the café for weeks? That’s the most effort I have put forth in a long time.”

“Thank you, I think?”

He smiles. “I like you. I think you’re smart, and I think that you’re honest and a different change of pace. You don’t have any arrests, which is nice. And you volunteer at an animal shelter in your free time, while working two jobs.”

A stone drops in your stomach. “You had a background check on me?”

“With what happened to me recently? Yeah. I did.” You award him that small lenience and nod, but there is something sour twisting in your stomach now. “Speaking of that, my reputation right now is a mess. You saw the way people couldn’t take their eyes off me when we walked in. Everyone is talking about me. I’m losing work deals because of it.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. My decision to pay people for their time was based off of a need and an assessment of what I could and couldn’t spend time doing. I needed discretion, I needed trust, I needed people who wouldn’t go through my things or reveal things about my private life.”

“I have to admit that… makes sense.”

“It’s hard to find people who are willing to give up the ideals of romance. I won’t ever be able to attend a birthday, or go to a wedding as a date, or just take you out to the movies.” Taehyung slows his speech as he looks at you with a level gaze. “I cannot go to friends gallery openings or be there for you if something bad happens. I travel, I work, I barely sleep. But what I can promise you is financial stability, someone to blow off steam with, and someone who will be loyal to you.”

The stone in your stomach syncs further. You hear a high-pitched ringing in your ears as you lean back in your seat, staring at Taehyung. “I’m confused- are you propositioning me?”

“Sort of, but not similar to the ones before. I don’t need sex – unless that is something you’re interested in because I would fuck you stupid over this table right now if that’s what you wanted – but I need someone softer. Someone no one knows. I need someone I can trust to come with me to events, who can help me fix my image.”

“And you think that person is me.”

“I think you can help me out, and I would be willing to financially compensate for that.”

“For sex?”

“For whatever you’d be welcome to. But I would in no circumstances be a boyfriend – not really. I don’t have the capacity or the time.”

Silence stretches between the two of you. Taehyung’s words sync in.

Financial compensation.

Taehyung said it wasn’t about being from different economical backgrounds, but what he’s not saying is that it would be mutually beneficial because you’re working two jobs and he’s working one. Because you live downtown in a shitty building and he lives somewhere nice, and owned. Because even though you look nice – you do not look like the women sitting outside of the private room.

Taehyung said it wasn’t about being from different economical backgrounds, and yet he’s offering to pay you as a favor if you do him one.

You don’t know how it happens. You don’t remember making the decision. For a moment, it’s just you and Taehyung staring at one another over empty dessert plates and glasses of wine.

The next moment, he is dripping in red wine, and the empty glass is in your hand.

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