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gwoongi · 5 years

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𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗅𝖺𝗌𝗍 𝗈𝖿 𝗎𝗌 ✰ taehyung (8)

𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗅𝖺𝗌𝗍 𝗈𝖿 𝗎𝗌 kim taehyung / reader genre: zombie apocalypse au words: 6106

a/n: spot the merlot murders easter egg :D

warnings: dirty sex, hyper realistic sex, body hair, impreg kink, face riding, the L word, violence, death, gore, graphic imagery, unprotected sex, its a zombie apocalypse ok its ok to be dirty

01. denver ↝ 02. holiday with me ↝ 03. sad forever ↝ 04. surely ↝ 05. scorpion ↝ 06. shakespeare ↝ 07. thrones ↝ 08. moon motel ↝ 09. zombies

Namjoon remembers the day that the news came to California, that the outbreak had gotten worse. Like most, he knew of the war; he knew of Jongun’s scheme to betray South Korea after an alliance that turned to shambles, and he was no fool to the media that went against all laws to stream illegal footage of nuclear sites in Russia, in America, in England, in countries that nobody knew were developing nuclear weapons. After the first North Korean bomb hit in America, and after Namjoon had urgently booked a flight to visit Kyungmin at UCLA, he didn’t think it could get much worse.

Like most idiots who didn’t take the urgent evacuation broadcasts seriously, Namjoon realised how dangerous it was to be in the cities when the military opened up the quarantine zone in the northern section of LA. Small explosives went off, bursting holes through the concrete walls, allowing a tide of infected zombies to surge into the streets.

Namjoon and Kyungmin had been on campus at that time, hauled up in a Lecture Hall used for business majors. It had been just them, with a couple other students who couldn’t afford to make it out in time, with the lights out and the food from the cafeteria in blankets, the whiteboard playing the news right up until the stations shut down to conserve power. The explosions rippled the Earth, shaking the entire Lecture Hall to the point where Kyungmin woke up, rubbing her eyes and searching the hall for her brother. Namjoon and another exchange student called Xell, from Japan, pushed up to the ashy windows and peered outside, seeing the chimney of smoke across the city. Xell muttered something in Japanese, calling out to another group on the front row.

“Okay, Kyungmin, time to go,” Namjoon breathlessly said, stuffing a pistol into her hand. She recoiled for a moment, a strangled noise of surprise slipping out of her mouth, “Okay, honey, you know how to use this, right?”

“Are you serious? Of course I don’t!”

Namjoon brushed it off. “Alright, it’s a semi-auto. You know what that means? Means you gotta load a round into the chamber before shooting. Face it downwards, yeah, pull back the slide, then release it.”

Kyungmin hands shook as he spoke. “Joonie, please-”

“We need to fucking get out of here as fast as we can,” Namjoon continued. Whenever Namjoon got nervous, he had a habit of swearing when it was unnecessary. Over the years, Kyungmin had just learnt to get used to it, especially since everybody in her family besides herself had the exact same habit. Maybe she was adopted, she thought briefly, before being pulled back in by Namjoon’s words. “Okay, yeah, okay? Stay close to me, do not let go of my belt, okay, honey? I know, this is scary, and I’m not making sense, but trust me, something bad is going to happen and we can’t be here when it happens. You get me?”

Kyungmin looked towards the front of the hall, “and what about the others?”

“I can’t save them all, Min.”

“But we might be able to,” she reasoned, tugging at his hand. “Please, Joonie.”

Namjoon hesitated, as if he considered it. And then, outside the window, a series of howls and growls rang through the vents and he shook his head, a look of agitation spreading across his face. “No. Kyungmin, I’m sorry, I love you, but we can’t, I gotta keep you safe, okay baby? Yeah?”

“Everybody makes tough calls, I get that, but we can save them,” Kyungmin ranted, confused and scared, emotional, empathetic. “They’re my friends, Namjoon, I can’t just leave them-”

“We are gonna die if we stay here, Kyungmin!”

Namjoon never raised his voice. In response, his sister froze, the gun halting in shivers.

“And I am not being held accountable for your death,” he continued, shaking his head with every word, his hands smoothing back her hair that was by now, greasy and thick. “Please, Kyungmin. Please.”

Namjoon doesn’t remember the entire scenario, but he remembers escaping the hall moments before the windows fell through, splintering the students left inside, and bodies with peeling skin and bloody blisters became crawling through the open spaces, their teeth rotten and sharp, fingernails like talons.

UCLA was worse; smoke engulfed the outdoor campus, with dust in the air and debris on the pavement, a bike upside down with blood and an arm poking out from underneath a fallen side of the building. The wheel moved in the wind. This had happened recently.

Taking hostage of a black Peugeot, Namjoon and Kyungmin barely escaped the embrace of death, driving crazily through the scenes of that end-of-the-world movie, where buildings collapsed and fires spread in each apartment, bodies falling like leaves from a tree to the concrete with sickening thuds and explosive red bursts. In the sky, Kyungmin could see the distinct colours of a military helicopter, the side doors open, a zombie hanging from the legs, and another being tossed out of the side and down onto the floor. It landed with a human thud straight ahead in the road, and three seconds later, pulled itself up to a standing position and stared at the front window of the stolen Peugeot.

People were running, screaming, covered in flames or blood or dirty hands and rotten mouths, crashes and bangs and explosions bursting Kyungmin’s eardrums as she flinched, watching a nearby gas station burst into ember. At this point, she didn’t know if the screams were human or not.

“What the fuck is this?” Kyungmin asked frantically, cradling her ears as blood dripped from her left eardrum. “This is seriously some sort of fucked up Train to Busan shit.”

“It’s the fucking military,” Namjoon cursed, veering to the right sharply to avoid a mother cradling a baby. He stepped on the breaks just as sharp, looking back to the mother and shouting for Kyungmin to open the back door. As she turned to do so, the mother fell with a breath of wheezy air to the floor, stains of red jumping to the window. Namjoon blinked, and hit the gas.

The military had betrayed them- they weren’t protecting them at all. No, no, no; the military were setting them up. They were letting the issue get too wild, and then they released it to the public, letting innocent people die, throwing bombs onto the cities. On the radio that seemed to still be in signal, Namjoon realised California was a hell of a lot safer than the likes of Houston, which apparently, “just saw thousands of casualties after a Napalm bomb, the same model used in Vietnam in the 60’s and 70’s.” Yeah, Namjoon was fucking lucky that he was in California, although, things seemed to be just as bad here as it would be anywhere.

It felt like a scene from the movie 2012, where the Earth opened up and underground trains fell and crashed into giant ravines pulled out of nothing, and multi storey car-parks gave way and cars drove themselves off cliffs. Only, it was much more preserved, with the same amount of panic, and with every dead person jumping back up sixteen seconds later to complete the cycle. As he drove, further towards the trees, all he could see was fire, burning everything and everyone, the wildlife jumping from the burning safety of their homes covered in flames, the baby deer running ahead as their mother rolled over, putting out the flames, following her family further into the city where Kyungmin saw, through the mirror, that the zombies avoided them.

For some reason, Namjoon thought of all this when Taehyung pulled up at a motel in a secular part of the journey-to-wherever-, located in a circle of dead trees, the moon logo no longer working. The Moon Motel, in all its glory. Namjoon hopped out of the van when it stopped rolling, feeling unusually weird. Maybe it was the memory of California. Maybe it was the fact that nothing he wanted to happen was happening. Or, maybe it was simply because he was starving, and tired, and disgustingly dirty.

“Hey, I’ve read about this place.”

Hoisting his backpack higher up over his shoulder, Taehyung moved to look at Kyungmin as she jumped out of the back of the van, drawing closer to the motel, “Yeah?”

“Mm. A journalist said that it used to be in a chain of motels, spaced across the globe,” she continued, following Taehyung towards the building with her hands in her back pockets. “Apparently, some rich fancy poly couple owned it after the previous owners died.”

“Oh. That’s sad.”

“Yeah, the article said that the poly couple, the new owners, were vampires.” She laughed gently, tossing her jaw upwards to inhale the oily smell in the air. “Imagine that.”

Taehyung was about to make a comment about how vampires weren’t real, but then he remembered that he lived in a world where dead people came back to life to eat everybody. Suddenly, the idea of vampires didn’t seem so impossible after-all.

And like everywhere else in the apocalypse, the Moon Motel had seen better days. The front door was busted, mostly covered in mossy mould and turning yellow around the handle. The interior was mostly stable, smelling stale and wet, with the golden couches and a brown suede suite that Namjoon sat down on with a hefty sigh, thankful to sit somewhere that wasn’t the van.

“I doubt there’s much here,” he said tiredly, waving in the direction of the kitchens. “I take it rooms are somewhere out back.” He yawned, “knock yourselves out…”

Kyungmin hummed quietly, finally overcoming the car sickness. “One of us should keep watch. I noticed a ladder to the roof. I’ll stay up there for a few hours ‘til one of you’s comes up to switch. That okay?”

“Yeah, sure thing,” Taehyung nodded. Before leaving for the back bedrooms, Taehyung called Kyungmin’s name and tossed her a revolver, the bullets clinking as she caught it in her hands. “Just in-case,” he added with a friendly smile, and she nodded, dipping her head to look at her feet as she hurried past the two of you. She shut the door firmly behind her. Namjoon lay, passed out, on the brown couch and Taehyung threw you a look over his shoulder, nodding in the direction of the rooms. “Sleepover?”

The bedrooms were in a satisfactory condition. Although not as chic or glam as they could have been before the world began to end, it looked expensive, with golden interior and a chandelier with no accessories, and burnt candles with wax leaking down off the shelf, like icicles. The bed, an egg shape on top of a platform that crumbled, lay untouched, the sheets still messy as if someone had only just clambered out of them.

“This is nice,” Taehyung commented off-handedly, dumping his bag by the door. “Never been to fancy places like this before.”

You shook your head, “Me neither. I could never afford to leave Denver.”

“Oh, yeah?” he asked. Despite being distracted by checking the room was secure, his tone was laced with sincerity, with interest, a genuine interest nobody had ever really shown you before. “How come?”

“Family trouble,” you replied truthfully. “Kind of a long story.”

“We’ve got time,” he assured.

“Not now,” you answered, shrugging off Taehyung’s jacket, setting it on top of the vanity with a quick inhale. The room smelt used, with the faint aroma of nicotine and a vanilla perfume, the wet smell of armpits. Taehyung shrugged in reply, not really in any position to demand a backstory.

A few moments later, after you sat down on top of surprisingly intact silk bed sheets, Taehyung poked his head out of the bathroom with a smile- “hey, the loo works in here!”

“Woah,” you replied. “Really?”

“Yeah!” Taehyung confirmed. He laughed, finding it funny that he was sharing an excitement with someone over the primitive use of a toilet. “Maybe now I can take a shit without feeling like people are watching me.”

Laughing, you watched as Taehyung stepped across the room, joining you on the egg bed. “Truthfully, how long’s it been since you actually took a shit?”

“I don’t even know,” he muttered. He moved to lay back on the sheets, his arm that had slung around your waist bringing you down to join him, like two little sardines in a tin. “This feels so good.”

You hummed in reply, curling to stuff your face in the crook of his armpit.

You lay like that for a while, feeling so utterly safe and relaxed and calm and quiet, until Taehyung wriggled on the bed and sat upright, a frown tugging on his lips.

Glancing at him, you rolled over onto your back. “Everything okay?”

He inhaled a breath. “Y/N, I was so afraid of losing you today.”

Oh. You hadn’t been expecting that, at all. Pushing yourself up onto your elbows, you stared at Taehyung with a confused expression. “Huh? Where’s this coming from?”

“It’s been on my mind for ages, and I said so in the barn that I didn’t wanna lose you, I said it in the trailer park, and I’m saying it again now- no, don’t interrupt, please, just let me get it all out.” He sighed, continuing: “Y/N, I think the world of you. I just feel so protective of you and there’s this weird thing in my head that makes me act funny whenever something revolves around you. It’s not fucking love- no, it’s not love, but, it hurts. Thinking about losing you fucking hurts my head. And, that- that thing today, the thing we saw, that’s what I’m afraid of. Not afraid of walkers coming for us, no, you’re strong, you can take them. But, God, I’m so afraid of someone hurting you, someone intelligent with a gun that doesn’t miss a target, from someone who is aware that they’re causing pain. Y/N, I don’t even know what I’m saying or why I’m saying it but I adore you so much. Sometimes, I forget there was even a time where it wasn’t just me and you. You know what? Fuck- it might be love. How long has it been? You don’t have to know someone ages to love them.”

“Taehyung, I-”

“And,” he rasped, his hands quivering. He didn’t even feel you reach to hold them, “today was so scary because I didn’t want to lose you or anybody else in the van and I need to get this off my chest because it’s killing me and every day we face a new threat and danger, and fuck, if I die tomorrow, I don’t wanna die knowing I never told you that I cared about you. God, I’m so thankful to be here with you right now. I don’t have anything else left.”

“Hey, Tae, please-”

“No matter what,” by now, Taehyung was close to tears, choking on his own words, “you keep finding something to fight for. I have nothing else to lose- you’re the only thing keeping me on this Earth right now, Y/N. You’re the only thing I have left. With you, I feel invincible. Y/N- I love you so much, you know that?” He paused, sniffing, cradling your face with his hands. Taehyung lifted it up to meet his gaze, his thumb brushing away a tear that hung down your face, “Yeah? You know that, right baby?”

He felt a nod against his hands, “Mm. I know.”

“You mean the world to me,” Taehyung whispered. He couldn’t fucking see- God, he was crying, like a little baby, choking on his own salty tears. “‘m gonna fight to get you somewhere safe, okay? I swear, baby, I’ll kill every damned biter on this Earth, just as long as you’re safe.”

Taehyung had moved significantly closer to you throughout his talking, his knees touching your own, the hotness of his breath on your cheek. He visibly jerked when you laughed quietly, your mouth against the palm of his hand. A gentle kiss, and then, “you said biter instead of walker.”

He laughed, too. “Hey, I just...I just said all of that, and that’s what you have to say?”

You joined in his laughter, the sound filling the room like a vinyl. Taehyung then bundled you in his arms, collecting you, picking you up off the sheets and onto his thighs, his nose brushing against your own. He felt his eyes go cross eyed, taking in all of your features up-close for one of the first times ever. He’d never noticed the small mole in your cupid's bow, or the little cut that over time had scarred into a fossil white, just below your left eye. Oh, how much he loved the little things, the flaws that would have once made a difference in an Instagram following, flaws that would have defined you, that do now but in a completely different way. He held in a breath, without realising, questioning how he went so long without saying something, without having a moment of realisation that you are his everything.

As a silence fell across the room, Taehyung smoothed his hands up your arms, exploring the skin, until they came to cup your head, as if it were a delicate doll that required careful handling. Like an open book, you read his face, noticing how his eyes appeared softer, a quirk in the corner of his lips bringing his mouth upwards to a smile, his eyes unusually glassy. He stroked your hair gently, his bottom lip curling upwards and then, it became apparent that he was trying not to cry.

Taehyung brought your face closer, his nose nudging against yours, his eyes closed and eyelids stuck together with tears. He opened his mouth, as if debating to speak, but stopped, opening his eyes to stare at the way you bashfully shrank in his hands. He moved closer, his lips brushing against yours, and his brows knitted together when you moved away, your fingers curling around his wrists with a childish whine that he apparently liked.

“What?” he murmured quietly. His eyes glanced upwards: “Ah, shit. Is this too much-? I can stop, we can stop, I’m sorry, ‘m sorry-”

“No, it’s just-” you began, cutting off with a tight laughter. Taehyung retracted, staring at you with an uncomfortably anxious expression.

“I,” he started, shaking his head gently, “I thought we were on the same page.”

All at once, you tightly held onto his hands with a firm shake of your head. “We are, Tae, it’s just- fuck. I’m ugly. And my skin is dirty and my hair is greasy and God knows what my legs and armpits look like right now. I look so...conventionally unattractive.” You scoffed, “Everything I hated about myself before all this started is back and I just- I don’t know how you can like me.”

As expected, Taehyung didn’t say anything for a few moments. He sat, silently, staring at your face, and you watched his eyes flit from various spaces. From your eyes, to the middle of your brows, to the dirt on your cheek, to your sunken cheekbones, to the acne scarring that had faded over time on the apple of your right cheek, the On Its Way Out pimple on your chin and the chapped skin of your lips. For a moment, you thought he might not answer at all, that he might sit up and back away, sleeping in the room next door. Or worse, he could laugh, criticise each flaw that made you feel ugly, revert back to the old norm of society where body hair was seen as illegal on women, and acne was gross and dry skin was dirty and a tiny bit of monobrow hair was unlady-like.

Taehyung’s mouth made a noise, the noise of lifting your tongue up and down, the sound of chewing a banana until it was mush. “But, baby...it’s natural.”

He laughed gently, “Everything about you is natural. D’you think I expect to find a Brazilian wax down there? Babe, we’re in the middle of a fucking zombie apocalypse. I don’t care about any of that, none of that even matters anymore. Neither of us have washed our hair in like, well, forever, you think I care about it?” Taehyung reheld your head, “You hear me, yeah? I love you.”

There was no necessary reply; with a mutter of, “I love you so much”, Taehyung didn’t think he really needed anything more.

He wasted no time in bringing your face towards his, his fingers on your chin and jaw, guiding you closer, wrapping you snug to his torso as if skin to skin wasn’t close enough. Each kiss was different, more passionate and wild and sensual and everything in between, his hands palming at your skin, pawing your lower body like an impatient kitten wanting milk.

“Have you done this before?” he muttered, his arms around you as you shakily brought your trousers down your thighs. With one arm, he held your waist and with the other, he wrapped it around to help you wriggle out of your clothes, bunching them up in his fist and tossing them away from the bed.

“Yes,” you replied in an equally soft tone, speaking through pouty lips. “Many times.”

Taehyung made a noise of approval. “Oh? This makes things more interesting.”

“It does?” you asked, shifting in his lap. He groaned quietly, his hands jumping to your middle. “You say it as if you’ve never done this before.”

He shrugged slightly. “Was a long time ago. With someone I didn’t really like that much.” A hand on his crotch. “Fuck- was a one time thing. Haven’t done it since.”

“Oh? This makes things very interesting, indeed.”

“Now you’re just mocking me.”

He smiled when you let out a giggle. “Smart boy.”

Taehyung hummed, a sort of reply, and wrapped his hands back around the back of your head, his fingers pulling you forward to meet his lips in a hard kiss. The force was sharp, splitting your lip on the inside, but the pain was pleasure.

It was clearly apparent that he knew what he was doing- his grip was experienced, and it left you breathless. Taehyung- at some point- lifted himself up to shimmy free from his jeans. The bulge in his pants did not go unnoticed, and neither did the breathless moan that left your lips when his erection sprang free, a salute like a soldier.

Taehyung hissed in a breath at the feeling of your hand wrapping around his stiffness, his eyes closing. On top, you muttered something he missed entirely, too focused on the feeling of your palm cupping his dick and balls. He felt like he couldn’t breathe, the words stuck in a clump in the middle of his throat, his fingers quivering like thighs after an orgasm. He moved, slightly. You moved too, with him, to squat over his thighs.

“Na-need lube,” he sighed shakily, his hands nonetheless prodding at your inner thighs. He hooked a finger underneath your underwear, his fingers basically already touching your genitals. “These gotta come off too.”

“You think I’m just carrying round lube with me?” you replied with a frown. Moving off his thighs, you shimmied further down, your face downcast. “I’ll just spit.”

“‘snot enough.”

“It’ll have to do.”

Grunt. “You got a condom?”

“No, but I’ve got faith in the fact you’ll pull out.”

“Pulling out’s not protection.”

You sighed with exasperation. “Well, let’s hope for the best. It’s this or nothing, babe.”

Babe. He writhed. “Whatever. I’m ready to be a Dad.”

With his help, and by help, it meant Taehyung didn’t remove his hooked finger as you pulled down your panties. At the sight of Taehyung now somewhat level with your pussy, you felt self-conscious. Insecure and ugly. After a dragged out moment of simply staring, he softly cursed, a gentle, “fuck”, and he curiously curled a finger between your folds, mindful of the tame hair, unbothered.

“Yeah, well,” you groaned, head back between your shoulder-blades, “if we’re still knocking around by the time this is all over, I’ll let you be the Dad of my kids.”

“Mm, yeah?” Taehyung hummed, oddly vacant. His eyes were glazed, lost looking. “Yeah, you’d like that, wouldn’t you? Me filling you up? Putting a kid in you?”

“Mhmpf!”

“Imagine our kids,” he huffed, three fingers up there. You whined as two scissored. “God, I want you. Wanna fill you up with my cum, put a baby in you. I want a life with you.”

“What? Like we aren’t having a life right now?”

He removed his fingers, a coating of juice and white covering his fingers, drooling like wax on a candle. “Nah, this ain’t life. We’re living, sure, but this ain’t a life. ‘M gonna get you out, I promise. Gonna go somewhere safe.”

He doesn’t say anything else after that, except the occasional fuck or shit, or intake of breath. Taehyung thought to himself, with the nape of his neck resting on the low headboard of the premium suite bed, watching you settle over his crotch with a look of need, want, and love, that if this were happening three years ago, he’d have taken his time. He would have gone to lengths to take you on dates, to visit the bowling alley that his friend Nate back at Uni worked at part-time, or to the diner owned by a chain that started in Chicago. For sure, he would have prepared lube and condoms, and flowers in a glass rose, twenty candles or something, rose petals in the bathtub for after, meringue in the freezer and Ultraviolence on the vinyl.

But now, in a world where losing someone has the same probability of seeing someone on the street outside your house, Taehyung couldn’t care less about taking his time. This time tomorrow, he could be dead. He won’t be, but he could be.

That’s what he told himself as he watched you take his cock with one hand, too small for his girth, and groaned with his fist wrapped around your hair as your mouth wrapped around his length. He told himself again when you settled down on his middle, sitting on his cock, one hand on his tummy and the other back on his thigh, the cowgirl on a horse, facing him instead of away. And again when he straightened up off the headboard, wrapping his arms around your body, one hand on your lower back and the other running along your wrist raised in the air like silk on skin, and again when you rolled forward in a wave to kiss him, to kiss him like you’d never kissed anybody before.

And God, it was some kiss. It was the kind of kiss a lover gave to their other half when they came back from the army, the kind of kiss where you’re physically afraid of moving away in-case they disappear. Taehyung had never, ever felt so loved, so wanted, so content with somebody in his entire life, and there was a margin of possibility that this could be the last time he ever kissed somebody, or held somebody. In any case, it was the first and last time he’d ever tell someone he loved them.

For some reason, he laughed as you sank down on him, a breathy giggle against the curve of your neck. You rested your hands on his shoulders, stabling yourself, and you peered down at him with a smile: “Enjoying yourself?”

He nodded with a small laugh. “Fuck yeah. Wish I had my phone, would have recorded this so I could watch it over again.”

“You’re into that?”

“I can be.”

“Dirty boy,” you said.

Taehyung lifted his hips to meet your thrusting, a shaky whimper making him grin. “I don’t wanna forget this moment.”

“Who says you’ll forget?”

He groaned at that. You moved faster, sinking up and down, skin sweaty and shining, your hips rocking forward and a shy hand between your breasts.

It’s nothing special, if Taehyung compared it to stuff before the outbreak. He’s a lad- he’s watched porn, he knew how things went if you had enough time, and lights, and patience. But, to Taehyung, this was bliss. Having a moment of intimacy with you was something his heart swelled with joy at, and his hold around your body tightened with every tight thrust, every slowing rise and fall, right up until the pivotal moment of release. Taehyung moaned, louder than ever, his mouth hanging open and lids half-closed, watching you through his thick eyelashes as you significantly slowed down.

“Cah-can’t hold it, Tae,” you said quietly, your voice close to a whisper if anything.

He gently took your forearm, sending an encouraging squeeze. “It’s okay, baby. ‘s okay.”

You whimpered softly, the high-pitched wheeze sending blood rushing to Taehyung’s dick, twitching inside you, begging for release. Impatient, Taehyung moved his hands to your lower body, one on your hip, the other underneath your ass, helping you deliver deep bounces until the gates opened; when you came, you saw white. You could see the white walls of a square room, everything white and pastel yellow, the figure of a man stepping towards you with a suit and tie, the man being Taehyung, his hair longer than it is now, shiny, plastic, fake, not real, a dream, not real- when you came, the weird, offhand smell of lemonade filled your nose as a dribble of creamy white ran down the vein of Taehyung’s cock.

Your arms gave way, weakened after your hard work, and Taehyung lifted you up off his dick to simply hover above him with thighs on either side of his hips. Once he removed himself with a slick sound, he let out a large exhale of breath, the tone gravelly and animalistic in some sense. Resting your hands on his shoulders, although they moved in jitters across his body, from his collarbones to his neck to the tuft of hair sticking up on his head, you gently eased yourself down, running the wetness back along the tip of his dick, your eyes widening when he groaned loudly; one hand cupping his balls and the other on your hip with his arm wrapped underneath your ass, Taehyung let out a gruff, “fuck”, and let go, cum splashing up onto your cunt, dripping like a leak in the roof, spread like cake frosting.

Reluctantly, Taehyung let his arm slip, giving way and letting you drop onto his thighs with a tired thud. He stared, dazed, bringing his fingers to join at your hair, pulling away the knots. After all that, you couldn’t help but feel embarrassed, shyly moving out of his eye to hide your body, a slight dusting of rose on your cheekbones. Taehyung whined softly, his hand wrapping around your wrist- “Hey, are you alright?”

“Mm,” you replied quietly, looking to him with an admiring gaze. He paused, pleased. Dropping your gaze to your bare cunt, Taehyung’s gaze followed, a smile pulling at his lips. In fact, his brow even quirked with satisfaction, exactly like planned. “Just gotta clean this up.”

“I could help,” he offered. Implying that he would get on his knees and lick the mess away, of course. You flushed.

“Taehyung, I dunno, that sounds kind of-” you began, but, catching sight of the way his face widened at the thought, his eyes glued to the stickiness of your vagina, his fingers tapping erratically on the sides of your thighs.

“Just like a bath, only rougher.”

“I don’t think that’s entirely accurate,” you breathed, practically burning with mortification when Taehyung shuffled down the bed to lay down on his shoulder-blades, his elbows propping him up almost expectantly, like a dog waiting for dinner. Curving your brow, you simply watched him, curious.

“What, you worried about the taste?” he asked bluntly, smiling as an afterthought. “The smell?”

“Yes, and yes,” you admitted, stroking his V-line with one finger, a feathery touch that made him shudder. “I mean...the hair…”

He groaned in amusement, his head falling backwards. “Y/N,” he exclaimed, his mouth widening to reveal the same set of weirdly white teeth. “Most males have hair and women still go down on them. D’ythink it’ll be different for me to do it? Honestly,” he huffed dramatically, taking your hand whilst supporting his body with a single elbow, “I’m not picky like that. I’m seriously the best person you could have sex with, really.”

“...Lucky me,” you sighed, after a breath of thought. His eyes flashed open wide for a split second, content with that answer.

Taehyung smirked through a chuckle, one produced by the tension in his throat, and tapped his chin with his finger, coated in dried cum, his tongue wetting his lips in anticipation, “sit.”

(And sit, you did.)

“No matter what, you keep finding something to fight for.”

As if it had just been touched by the demon underneath the bed, you pulled your leg back underneath the sheets of the motel bed, wrapping it around Taehyung’s legs, out in a starfish position.

You glanced up at him. “Hm?”

His Adams bobbed up and down, as if it was suddenly hard to swallow. “Joel Miller said that. The Last of Us, 2014, Naughty Dog. A story of a man who got loaded with a 14 year old, smuggling her across America to become the cure to humankind. He said that to her, at the end of the game.”

“Oh, yeah?” you muttered, face smushed against his breast. “It’s a nice thing to say.”

He made a noise of agreement, but it fell short. “Yeah, but wanna know the context? He got selfish. At the start of the game, he loses a daughter, probably the same age as Ellie when he finds her.”

“Who’s Ellie again?”

“The girl.”

“Oh, right.”

“Ellie is immune to the zombie apocalypse- I mean, how fucking fortunate? She’s being taken to this gang of scientists to become the cure, but he kills them all when they try and kill her to take brain samples, or something. Anyway, he takes her back to his brother’s little camp in the woods, and just before the game ends, he tells her that. He looked at her, said to her face, “No matter what, you keep finding something to fight for.” She made him swear to it.”

You hummed with interest, propping your chin underneath his nipple to stare up at him, enthralled by the shadows cast on his face from the angle. “You like that quote?”

“It applies,” he explained, moving his hair from his forehead. “Back in New York...ah-” he inhaled a breath. New York brought back a flood of memories, that was obvious. It seemed as if talking about it was difficult, and you rested a hand on his bicep with a meek smile, “you don’t have to say it, baby.”

“No, no,” he continued, not rudely. “I want to. Look...I lost my sister. For all I know, she’s dead. I mean, I hope she’s not, but when we got separated in New York...man, I lost it. My body went into a shutdown, I searched New York with a baseball bat with nails, some stolen gun I didn’t know how to use properly. My mate, Bogum, was with me for a bit, before he left with his friends to go somewhere better. As if there’s anywhere better. My sister was everything I had in America, and losing her like that...I just, shut down. My body couldn’t cope.

“Point is, is that I don’t wanna lose anybody again. I don’t want to lose you like I lost her, Y/N,” he rasped, his chest filled with something tight. It felt like he was breathing poison. He repeated the quote, lost in the words, his eyes closed gently.

You sat up completely, looking down at him with a washed over expression. His lips pulled back to a frownish smile, his fingers reaching to loop a strand of hair behind your ear. “Should cut your hair.”

“That’s enough video game references from you tonight, Tae,” you laughed breathily, pulling your hair back to fall down your back. “But, yes. I agree. Help me cut it tomorrow?”

He nodded against the pillows, bringing you down to join a kiss, and then press your nose to the shell of his ear. “Course. I’d do anything for you.”

And it went without question.

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