#Taehyung fics | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

maineventbts · 2 years ago

Text

DON’T SCREAM

genre: horror, thriller, smut, angst

pairing: taehyung x reader (featuring jk, hobi, joon, jin, yoongi)

word count: 10.4k

warnings: mentions of murder & death, violent attacks, unprotected sex, vulgar language, knives & guns. lmk if I’m missing anything else!

summary: you just branded your boyfriend as the murderer, after your gruesome attack. you think you’re finally safe in your friend’s home, but you receive a call from the killer while he’s in jail. the town continues to be in fear, awaiting the next killing. the police set a citywide curfew, which is ignored by many. like any good horror movie, a party is thrown during all of the chaos. thinking you have a night of fun ahead, you find yourself fighting for your life, and get the surprise of a lifetime.

a/n: i wrote this very quickly, please ignore any mistakes. this has turned into a series, but this is the last part that will be almost exactly like the movie. please leave any thoughts/comments/questions in my inbox (anons are on)!

"I got it wrong," your words come out hoarse, feeling like you were just kicked in the chest. Nayeon's mother left the room in silence, too stunned to speak on what just happened. The voice on the other side of the phone made your ankle wound throb. Tears dripping down your face, burning like acid eating at your skin. Not even a full three hours have passed since your attempted murder, and you're receiving a threatening phone call. What makes matters worse is that you've already labeled your boyfriend as the boogeyman, the killer is still on the loose, and targeting you. Taehyung was behind bars, and you believed that you were safe. This couldn’t be happening, there was no way that this was your life. You have no idea who was behind the mask or the chilling call. You were just at the police station, getting your ankle patched up and having your statement taken by Seokjin. All eyes were on you while you pointed the figure towards Taehyung. You knew he’d never forgive you, especially after he tried to get you to believe him.

Tensions were high; a murderer was running loose, you told the police your boyfriend tried to kill you, and the anniversary of your father's murder was just around the corner. Even though you were in a house full of people, you felt alone. No one in the room could see or understand what you were going through. Nayeon pulls you in for a hug, her hands wrapping around your quivering frame. You couldn't stand to be here anymore, you were ready to hop on the next flight and join your mother. You just wanted to get away from the carnage that is your new life. "I just want to sleep," you mutter, shuffling towards the extra bed in your friend's room. You cry silently, tucking yourself in the sheets. Late to the party, Nayeon's brother bursts into the room. With a pistol in his hands ready to shoot someone, he asks, "What happened," his question goes unanswered as you turn over, and his sister rolls her eyes. "You're late, Jin," she said, crossing her arms over her chest, annoyed with her brother's late arrival. For a police officer, he wasn't the best when it came to emergencies. It was his job to keep an eye on you and he was failing miserably. You could hardly comprehend what just happened, and since you surely weren't ready to tell the story, you let Nayeon speak for you.

As you walk onto campus the next morning, you're surrounded by reporters who were awaiting your arrival. They didn't care about your well-being, they were just ready to use you for another top story. The flash from the camera blinds you and brings back the worst kinds of memories. All you could think about were the invasive journalists from your dad's trial. The theories and the articles were the worst part of it all. You wouldn't be surprised if one of the top reporters were among the sea of bastards with a microphone and a camera. With Nayeon by your side, you believed that you would be okay and could make it through the turmoil. "Just ignore them," she says quietly, ushering you through the crowd. This was the last place you wanted to be. After the night you had and the fact that no one could get ahold of your mom, you were beyond petrified.

You sit at your usual lunch table, digging through your bag, as you talk with your friends. Bandaged ankle propped up, slightly in pain after all the walking you’ve done. The first thing you did was ask about Taehyung. He’d been released, but you haven’t spoken with him since. You expected that he’d be pissed, wanting nothing to do with you. "What do you mean, how does he feel? You told the cops that he tried to kill you. The kid's spirit is crushed," Hoseok chuckles, his comment receiving a smack on the chest from Nayeon. You already felt bad, but he was just making matters worse, "what else was I supposed to think?!" The last thing you wanted to do was rehash last night's events, but you couldn't just stand there and let him railroad you. There was a valid reason for you to think Taehyung was guilty, you didn’t just pull him out of thin air. "He knew I was alone and just happened to pop up as soon as the killer was gone," you said, aggressively zipping your bag closed, clearly annoyed. Jungkook forced his way into the conversation, saying, "I'm with, ___ on this one. He's always seemed like a killer to me, he’s got the charisma of killers from those true crime shows! He has 'murderer' written all over his face. This entire situation straight out of a horror movie."

As the group’s film nerd, Jungkook knew all about movies and the different patterns they have. He believed that he was the most qualified person for solving this, surpassing actual officers working the case. Ignoring Jungkook's commentary, Hoseok came to Taehyung's defense, once again, saying, "The message log came back clean, anyways, it's not like this is the first time he's snuck into your house. He probably just wanted to see you," Hoseok continues to speak for his friend, he’d fully believed that he was innocent, "he's here today, maybe you can apologize." His suggestion makes you scoff, standing up abruptly, "Why the hell should I apologize, I'm the victim here! He just got put in a cell for an hour; I was nearly fileted." You couldn't believe you had to defend yourself to your friends, especially after what happened to you. They should be more understanding; sadly, they've done nothing but make you feel bad. "By the way, I'm fine," you throw your bag over your shoulder, turning on your heel, "since none of you even cared to ask." It was hard to believe that everyone has something to say about the situation, but no one cares enough to ask about your well-being. You limped away from the trio, refusing to spare them another glance. After you walked away, the group remained silent, reflecting on their choice of words.

You received various looks from your peers, some looked at you with pity, while others looked like you had brought the killer onto campus. All of the eyes on you made you queasy, you wanted to get out of there as soon as possible. You're rushing through the hallway until you collide with another person. You try to regain your balance as you get ready to apologize. Before the words can leave your mouth, you realize you've come face-to-face with your boyfriend. He holds his hand out for you, trying to stop you from falling, before quickly pulling away. The look of fear in your eyes has him confused, "you still think I did it, don't you?" His question made you look away, head tilted downward as you stared at the floor. The look of concern on his face, paired with the softness in his voice, was a dangerous combination. You felt extremely guilty, expecting him to react angrily.

Maybe you were still scared, "no, Tae," you mustered up the courage to answer him. "You were there at such an odd time. Maybe it was a coincidence, but it just looked bad. I know it wasn't you, but that's all I could think in the moment," you finally looked up at him, sad eyes staring into his angry ones. "I knew you were scared so I just wanted to come and see you. I figured you'd want company, but the door was open, which was weird. So I rushed upstairs to see if you were okay," Taehyung grabs a hold of your hand, his expression softening as he realizes how sorrowful you look. "It's not just this though," he deeply sighs before continuing, "since everything with your dad, you've just been different." You snatch your hand away from his, glaring up at him, "what do you mean different?" You were appalled that he would even say such a thing, after all that you went through.

"You've been acting weird for months. Sometimes you barely want to be around me," he explains, and you stare at him in shock. "I know what it's like to lose a parent. When my dad left-" you couldn't believe the words you were hearing, especially to hear them coming from your boyfriend. "Really? Your dad left your mom, my dad was murdered. You can't even compare the two," your hand grips the strap of your backpack, as you prepare to flee this conversation as well. "I'm sorry that my life is too much for you. Not all of us are lucky to live in some perfect world," you push past him, your shoulder connecting with his. Taehyung calls out for you, shouting an apology as he watches you walk away. You refuse to turn back to him, keeping your head high while you storm away.

Ignoring the stares from your peers, you hurry into the bathroom. You lock yourself in a stall, leaning your back against the door. First last night, and now this? You just couldn't catch a break; it's like the universe was punishing you for some horrific crime. What could you have done to deserve a life like this? What you really wanted right now was your mother. She knew exactly how to console you and calm you down, but she still hasn’t responded to anyone yet. Seokjin promised he’d keep looking for her but you were beyond worried. You just needed to clear your mind, to breath. A few deep breaths and the sound of nothing seemed to do the trick. As you prepare to leave the restroom, you stop as you hear the voices of some girls.

"She's such an attention whore."

"Taehyung is too hot to be dealing with this. The bitch is insane."

"She probably lied about getting attacked, just to throw the cops off her trail."

"After what happened with her dad, she just snapped, and now she's dragging everyone else down with her."

The girls erupt in laughter, as they continue to exchange jokes about your current state. Every word felt like someone had taken a hammer to your chest. They didn’t know the truth, they just knew what they saw on TV and read online. The same goes for everyone else, they only know what people choose to report, not the full story.

As soon as the bathroom was cleared out, you exited the stall and approached the mirrors. You stared at your reflection with a blank face, too stunned to move. Eyes puffy and droopy, jaw clenched, and a frown. The girl in the mirror was a wreck, practically dead inside. A loud band pulls you from your thoughts, causing you to turn around. No one else was in the room, but you did see several people making a mockery out of the incident, masks and all. After what you just experienced, you weren't in the mood to stick around and find out what that was. Without any hesitation, you hurry out of the bathroom and walk to your next class.

_______________________________________________

"Students, for the rest of the week, classes are dismissed. Please acknowledge the citywide curfew and stay safe," an announcement goes through the intercom, receiving shouts and cheers from students all around. You and Nayeon are walking off campus, heading to her car, before you're stopped by Hoseok. "You guys coming to my party tonight," he asks, pulling Nayeon against his chest. You ignore their antics and keep walking, confused as to how they can party during a killing spree, with a curfew. "Come on, it'll be fun," Nayeon grabs your hand, giving you an overexaggerated pout, “Please, for me?” You figured she wanted to spend some time with her boyfriend, but just didn’t want to leave you on your own again.

You stared at them in disbelief, shocked that they’d even think you’d be up for a celebration, but the pair wouldn't budge. Part of you wants to stay in the safety of Nayeon's home, while the other part wants to be surrounded by a large crowd of possible witnesses. "Fine, I'll go," you give in, deciding that you deserve a bit of fun in your life. Hoseok gives the girl a final kiss before you snatch her away, ignoring his shouts directed toward you two. He does a celebratory dance before walking in the other direction, to get things ready for the evening.

_______________________________________________

"Nice to see you, ___" Jungkook grins at you and Nayeon, he was surprised to see you two in his place of work. "We're looking for some movies for tonight. What do you got," you take a look around the aisle you're in before Jungkook stops you, "don't worry about that, I got the movies covered. I'm thinking horror movie marathon!" You weren't surprised by his choices, knowing how much he adored movies, especially horror films. "Alright, well, we're going to the store to get some snacks and food. Don't pick out any of that weird shit, I'm not watching Human Centipede with you again," Nayeon drags you out of the store, as you say your goodbyes to your friend. Jungkook stares at you in awe as you walk away, "just one chance," he mutters before turning back to his stack of DVDs.

"You left just in time," Jungkook scoffs as Hoseok approaches him, "and you brought Michael Myers with you, great." He looks over in the direction of Taehyung, who is too busy talking with a group of girls to notice his comment. "Will you give it up? It wasn’t him, the cops let him go," Hoseok rolled his eyes, tired of having to defend his friend. No matter how many times he tried to explain it away, Jungkook wasn't buying it. "This is the kinda shit that comes straight out of the movies. You don't think I know what the fuck is going on," Hoseok watches the boy get riled up, about to go on a full-blown rant. He stands back and watches it all go down. "Anyone that's seen a horror movie knows what's happening. That boy has killer written all over him! For Christ's sake, he's even standing in the middle of the horror section," Jungkook sets down the DVD in his hand, "I don't give a damn how clean his phone records were. They could show me it themselves, and I still wouldn't believe it." He was frustrated, no one seemed to listen to his theories or the facts he was pointing out.

A man approaches Jungkook, a movie in his hand, "if you came over here to ask me what actor is in it, look on the back! It's right there," he says, shooing the customer away, ready to get back to his conversation. "The cops only let him go because they're stupid. It happens in every movie! The cops are either too late to the scene or they ignore the obvious signs about who the killer is." Hoseok brings another question to the table, continuing to egg him on, "if he's the killer, what's his motive? Hm?" Hoseok wouldn’t back down, he knew exactly how to get Jungkook going, and continued to push his buttons. Picking up a new stack of DVDs, Jungkook places it on the shelf, saying, "there's always some reason for everything. No matter how stupid it is. That's what makes these movies so great, they aren't overcomplicated. Everything is right in front of your face," Hoseok stares at the boy, wondering how much longer he could go before he starts to lose his mind.

"His motive? Maybe _____ has started to lose interest in him," Hoseok bursts into laughter, "so? You think that means she'll be interested in you next?" Jungkook shrugged his shoulders at his question, "I think so, we get along great. Last time I checked, she wasn't running from me. Only your friend over there," he points in Taehyung's direction. When he realizes just how serious Jungkook is, Hoseok can't control his laughter. Pointing at him and giggling like a kid on the playground. Unfazed by his disrespect, Jungkook continues stocking the shelves. "You know who I think it is? Her mom," Hoseok randomly throws a new suspect on the table, "no one's heard from her since she left." Jungkook shook his head, his luscious curls bouncing as his head turned. "Nah, she's probably dead. Have you seen her mother? There's no way she could kill two different people, and attack ____," Jungkook didn't believe Hoseok, to him, it made no sense for your mother to be the killer.

"Her body will be found next. Insides ripped out! Teeth bashed in! Rotting in a closet somewhere," Jungkook's vulgar language didn't surprise his friend, he tended to be very overly passionate about these kinds of things. "Someone's just waiting for the right time to bring her body to the surface." Hoseok looked around the room, waiting for others to notice just how loud Jungkook was getting. "If they watched a simple horror movie, they'd know there is a formula to this shit! A specific formula that they forget every time," at this point, he's practically shouting in the middle of the store, arms flapping around as he speaks.

"Don't you get it! Everyone's a suspect," the room instantly got quiet as everyone stared at Jungkook. Hearing only some of the things he had to say, they thought he was a madman. He didn't care about the looks, he shrugged his shoulders once again. "The moms a distraction, it's Taehyung," as he turns to walk away, Taehyung pops up behind him, making him stop in his tracks. A firm hand grips his shoulder as Taehyung glares into his eyes, "are you sure you're not the killer? Huh?? Maybe your sickass saw too many movies and decided to make your own," Jungkook's eyes widened in horror, as he was accosted by his primary suspect.

Jungkook jumps again, as Hoseok comes up behind him, "you have a point there, in a typical movie, I'd be the main suspect." Playing with his hair, Hoseok continues to invade his personal space, practically breathing on his neck, "what would be your motive?" Jungkook answered quickly, looking between the two men, "it's a new age in cinema, motives come accidentally, naturally." The pair found him amusing as they continued to poke and prod at him. They giggle amongst themselves before walking away from Jungkook. Leaning over to a customer near him, Jungkook speaks quietly, "you're telling me that dude's not a killer?" Before they can answer, Jungkook snatches the DVD from their hands, shooting them a disappointed look, "Is that the Texas Chainsaw with Trey Songz? You've gotta be kidding me, go pick another one out," he sets the DVD on his tray before sending the customer back to the horror section.

_______________________________________________

"Hey Hobi," you greet the party's host as you enter his home. "Is Tae here," you ask quietly, avoiding eye contact, "No, he said he wasn't feeling it tonight." Part of you was disappointed, you didn’t want to see him, but you felt like he was avoiding you. You take a look around at the large crowd, feeling a sense of comfort. If anyone was coming to get you, there'd be several people around to witness it. As you walked further into the house, people began to notice you. Shouting your name and giving you pats on the shoulder. It felt better than the way you were previously treated, but it still felt odd. "Hey guys," you give a tight-lipped smile as you make your way to the living room. Already on his way to the television, you watch Jungkook put a movie on. No one dared to disagree with the movie he picked out, wanting to avoid any kind of battle with the man.

"What's up pretty lady," the sound of Yoongi's voice made you turn around, you look over to see your group of friends waiting for you to join them. He hands you a red solo cup as the group makes room for you to get comfortable. You sit next to Nayeon and Jungkook, the two being your closest friends. "Are you feeling better," Namjoon reaches over, resting a hand on your shoulder. "Yeah, thanks for asking," you say, shooting him a smile, surprised that someone finally asked how you were feeling. You weren’t surprised it was Namjoon, he tended to be the more caring one of the group. Since your father’s untimely death, he’s made sure to always ask how you are. "Everybody shut up! We're about to watch one of the greatest films ever made, Nightmare on Elm Street," the room lets out some cheers as they settle in their seats.

Hoseok joins the group, plopping down next to Nayeon and asking, "can you get me another drink," the request makes her roll her eyes, but she does it anyways. She gets up from her seat and heads down to the basement. "Can you get me another drink," she mutters under her breath, mocking her boyfriend as she takes several drinks from the fridge. As she heads back to the door, the garage door opens up, stopping her in her tracks. With her hand on the doorknob, she looks to see who's there before trying to get into the house. "What the fuck," she groans, twisting the knob on the locked door. Instead of waiting around, she decides to go through the garage, to get back in the house. Walking towards the open entrance, she jumps. In front of her is someone in the same cloak and mask that attacked you.

"Jungkook? You've gotta be kidding me, take that off before ____ sees you," Nayeon shakes her head as she tries to walk past someone she thinks is a friend. A clothed hand wraps around her forearm, holding her in place. "You freak, let me go," she groans, trying to pull her arm away. "Fuck!" she shouts as she feels a sharp tip glide against her arm. Trembling in fear, Nayeon thrashes in her spot, trying not to freak out at the sight of her blood dripping on the floor. She thought it was just a prank gone too far, but they weren't stopping. "Let me go," her voice shakes as she finally pushes them away.

She bolts out of the garage, running from the assailant, just to be snatched back by her hair. Glass shatters on the floor as the drinks fall from her hands. Her back collides with the concrete, knocking the air out of her lungs. Coming to the conclusion that this was actually the killer, she’s aware that her end is coming. She tries crying out for help, words coming out as gasps, while tears run down her face. "Help me," she starts to shout before her mouth is covered. Letting out a series of muffled pleas for help, as she stares into the mask. She was beyond petrified, nearly about to give up. The phantom hovers over her, one hand over her mouth and the other hand wielding a knife. Her eyes widen as she notices the blade, thrashing on the floor, trying to save herself. Smacks to their face and fists to their chest, the killer refuses to let that stop their mission. Her attempts are unsuccessful, as the knife is plunged into her chest. Her hands come up to grip the mask, pulling it off of their face. Eyes fluttering as she’s losing consciousness, she looks in the face of the attacker. Her blood spilling onto the floor, as her world goes dark.

_______________________________________________

"Nayeon, let's go," you shout throughout the house. Jin was on his way to pick the both of you up, being your bodyguard and your ride. You already broke the curfew, but now it was time for everyone to head home. People leaving in their cars, going to lock themselves in their house. You'd been looking for Nayeon for the last five minutes, with no clue where she was. Little did you know, she was lying on the garage floor and you'd be next. You stand with Hoseok at the front door, as you wait for your friend to show up. "Hey, ___," a familiar voice sounds in your ears, causing you to turn around. Standing in the doorway is Taehyung, looking as sorry as ever. You can still hardly hold eye contact with him, giving him a small nod. "Hey, why don’t I go look for Nayeon and you two can talk," Hoseok suggests, pointing towards the stairs. You quickly nod your head, realizing that you can't ignore him forever. "Yeah, let's talk for a bit," you say, extending your hand, waiting for him to grab it. Taehyung jumps at the opportunity to be close to you again, intertwining your fingers. He leads you upstairs to the closest bedroom. After you enter, he closes the door behind you, wanting some privacy.

"Tae… I'm sorry," you sit on the bed, looking up at the man in front of you. Taehyung sits down beside you, resting a hand on your thigh. "I've been going through a lot, and I haven't been fair to you," you say, taking a deep breath before continuing. "I've been dragging you into my fucked-up world and expecting you to be okay with it." You stare down at your hands in your lap, trying to hide the fact that you're crying. You had expected him to handle all of the baggage you came with, not concerned about how that might’ve effected him. Taehyung radiated comfort; in this moment, you felt like you could trust him. Taehyung places his hand on your cheek, lifting your head up. "Baby, you can't blame yourself. You've had a lot to deal with this past year, and the least I could've done is be understanding," he says, wiping a tear from your cheek, giving you a small smile.

"My pretty girl… don't cry. You have nothing to be sorry for, I'm the one who's sorry," you finally look into his eyes, lips curving upwards. "Let me show you how sorry I am," you know what he's insinuating, and you're quick to nod your head. After the week you've had, you needed this. Not waiting another moment, you smash your lips against his. His hand comes up to cup your cheek, as you part your lips. His tongue slivers through, making its way into your mouth. Your hands come up to his shoulders, pushing her flannel off of him. You pull away, pulling your shirt over your head as Taehyung's eyes fall to your chest. He's quick to pull his shirt off and ask, "are you sure you want this?" Your hands come down to his pants, fiddling with the belt, "I want this, now," you speak softly, as you continue to get his pants off. You wanted nothing more than to be with him in the most intimate way possible. Taehyung was always your safe space, and you needed every bit of him to feel better.

_______________________________________________

The living room is still full of people, most of them being your friends. They've moved on to their next horror movie; Halloween. "It's obvious she was gonna die, she broke the main rule," Jungkook speaks to the group as he leans against the couch. The room as a whole was confused, assuming he was just speaking nonsense, as usual. "What rules," someone asks, clearly unaware that Jungkook has a habit of rambling on about movies. "You don't know the rules," he jumps up from his seat, looking at the people in disbelief. He lets out a big sigh and sets his beverage down. "There's a certain set of rules that everyone must follow if they want to survive a horror movie," Jungkook says, pausing the television as he begins to lecture the crowd. Little did they know, he’d give them some knowledge that would guarantee they’ll make it out alive.

"Rule one, don't have sex," that rule made the group groan out a variety of complaints, people throwing chips and solo cups at him. "Rule two, no drinking! Rule three, no going off by yourself," Jungkook spoke passionately as he listed off the rest of the rules. "And finally! Do not say 'I’ll be fine’ you won’t be fine! You will die next," Hoseok laughed at his friend, standing up from the couch. "I'm gonna go get some food, do you want some," Jungkook quickly nodded his head, “by yourself,” he questioned, not knowing what idiotic comment would come next. "Yeah, I’ll be fine," Hoseok tried to contain his laughter as he exited the room, the rest of the people giggling behind him. "That's the kinda shit that's gonna end with a knife in your back," Jungkook shrugged his shoulders, knowing that he tried his best to give them survival tips.

_______________________________________________

"Fuck, I'm so sorry," your words come out as a moan, your voice quivering. Taehyung fucking you from behind as you grip the sheets beneath you. Each thrust was more exhilarating than the last, making your legs wobble. His cock slid in and out of your sopping hole, leaving you a whiny mess. Your legs practically shaking from the intense pleasure. Taehyung's hands grip your hips, bringing you to meet his thrusts. "It's alright, pretty girl," one of his hands comes up to caress your head. What started as a soft touch turned into him pulling your hair, "best apology ever," he groans loudly.

Things started off soft and slow, but got heated quickly. You both were eager to please the other, willing to do anything to make things better. "Taking me so fucking well," he picks up the pace without a warning. The sounds of your moans mixed with your hips smacking against each other was unholy. You can't even respond to his praises, too high in the clouds to even form a sentence. All you can do is let out airy moans, while you clench down on his cock. His cock was stuffed inside you, making you whimper and whine for more. Your thighs are soaking wet at this point, dripping down onto the bedding. You didn't care about the night before or what he said to you today, all you needed was for him to give you what you wanted.

As he continues to thrust into you, an overwhelming feeling begins to approach. You're sucking him in harder than before, not wanting to let this moment end. "Come on baby, cum all over my cock," Taehyung encourages you, as he feels you reaching your end, "you can do it, pretty girl." Those final words did it for you, you shut your eyes as you let the euphoric feeling take over you. "Fuck, squeezing me so well," Taehyung grunted as you continued to clench down on his throbbing cock. Your whines were music to his ears, aiding him in reaching his own high. He lets out of a string of curses, as his thrusts begin to falter. He spills his seed in you, coating your walls, before pulling out. His cum drips out of your pussy, spilling onto the sheets in a little puddle. You both take deep breaths, before saying anything else. Turning over, you lean forward, giving him a light kiss on the cheek. After you two cleaned yourselves up, you began to put your clothes back on.

"Did anyone come to see you, when you were in jail," you ask, pulling your shirt down. Taehyung sighed, confused as to why you were even bringing it up again, "My mom visited me." Your eyebrow shoots up in confusion, his mother was already at the station before he arrived, it was far from a visit. "That's not a visit, she was there to speak with officers," you proceed to fix your appearance as you ask your questions. Taehyung sits on the floor, lacing his boots, and trying to contain his frustration with you. "Then no, I didn't have a visitor," he gets quiet for a second, refusing to even look your way, "why are you asking about that? I thought we already settled this shit."

You shrug your shoulders, before turning to look at him, "I was just curious. It'd be funny if you had someone come and see you, so you could tell them to call me. It’d be a smart way to throw me off and make yourself look innocent," You knew your admission would make things worse, but you didn't care, it was a harmless statement. Taehyung jumped to his feet, finally looking into your eyes, "you still think it was me, don't you? We just had a whole conversation, the call logs were clean!" As he shouts at you, your eyes wander past him. The door was slowly being pushed open, "what is it gonna take for you to realize that I'm not the killer? Huh?" You ignored him shouting at you, too focused on what was going on behind him. Your eyes focus on a black cloak, trailing on the floor.

"What the-," you mutter before seeing the rest of the costume. Once again, you've come face to face with the phantom. Taehyung continues to yell at you, unaware of what was lurking behind him, "are you even listening to me?" Your mouth falls agape as you look on in pure horror. The masked killer carefully approaches you both, "Tae, look out," you finally shout, but your alert is too late. You watch as a knife is plunged into his back, causing him to hunch forward in pain, grunting loudly. Turning around to see his assailant, the knife is rammed in his chest. You let out a gut-wrenching scream as your boyfriend falls into a pool of his own blood. Sadly, you were standing close enough for his blood to have gotten all over your face. You try to let out a cry for help, but no words can come out. With a quick swipe of the knife, the phantom jumps over the bed, in an attempt to get you next.

You hop over the bed, barely escaping the swipe of the knife. As they try to leap towards you, they land on the wooden floor, buying you a bit more time. Sprinting through the halls, you take a look around at the wide variety of doors. Knowing you can’t stop running, you choose the one farthest away from where you were. The killer was at your heels, matching your pace. With your heart beating out of your chest, you snatch the door open, quickly closing it behind you. Once you noticed there was no lock, you pushed the nearby dresser in front of it as a barricade. You were in a bedroom, looking around for some kind of exit. Loud bangs come from the other side of the door. It was only a matter of time before they would break through. You come across a window on the left side of the room. Rushing towards it, you lift the latch to unlock it. You try to move as fast as possible, lifting the window up and crawling through. Just as you’ve made it to the other side, the door busts open. The assailant was instantly heading your way, you let out a gut-wrenching scream, praying someone around could hear you.

The floor under your feet was slippery. The roof boards were unsteady, and you could no longer use the window seal to hold yourself up. Carefully taking steps to the right, you lean down, using your hands to balance yourself. Looking beside you, the phantom is making its way out of the window. They’re moving faster than you were, not worried about falling down. You stand up straight, arms stretched out, as you try not to fall down. Taking large steps towards you with the knife in their hand, the killer dives towards you. "Somebody hel-" your voice cracks as a sharp pain in your abdomen stops you from finishing your cry for help. You’d been stabbed through the side, the knife was quickly pulled from your wound. The blood is pooling out, dripping down the side of your shirt. You feel yourself falling over, losing your balance, as you’re about to fall to your demise. Their hands wrap around your frame, you try to fight them off, kicking and throwing your arms around. They continue their attempts to stab you, swinging the knife in your direction. Throwing your hand up to protect yourself, the knife jabs straight through your hand,leaving you screeching in pain. You bring your wounded hand against your chest, trying to stop the bleeding.

You were either going to die up here or fall to your death, you couldn’t decide which was worse. Your attempts at fighting back were useless; you were barely able to dodge the knife coming towards your face. Ducking down, you throw your hands forward, pushing them back. As they stumble and try to regain their balance, you try to stand up. Before you can even move, you get kicked in the chest with a heavy boot. The force being too powerful, you slip off the roof, falling backwards as you shout at the top of your lungs. Your back connects with the roof of a car in the driveway. Groaning out in pain, you can barely believe that you’re alive. Slowly opening your eyes, you look up, only to see an empty rooftop. You hope they think you died on your way down; you weren’t sure how much more of this you could take. This was your second time being attacked, and this one ended with you being kicked off a roof, you were scared to think what was next.

Mustering up the strength, you roll off the side of the car. As your feet connect with the ground, you find yourself being drawn to the floor. You can hardly stand up, your back in excruciating pain from your previous fall. Using the side of the car as leverage, you pull yourself up and prepare to run. Before you can turn away from the house, a dark red puddle on the floor catches your attention. It's the body that's accompanying it that brings you to tears. Your best friend was stabbed and left bleeding out on the floor. You want to stay there with her, see if there's anything you can do for her, but you can't help her if you're dead. You limp away from the scene, moving as quickly as you can. As you make your escape, you continue to scream and plead for someone to come to your rescue.

Trying to shake the disturbing image you just saw out of your head. You make your way to the front of the house, thankful to see a friendly face. "Jin, we have to go," you shout, happy that there's someone with a gun to save you. To your surprise, he drops to his knees, falling onto the floor. Your eyes pan to the tear in his clothes, blood staining his uniform. You rush over to the porch, taking the gun out of his holster. You’d gone so long without a weapon, now you had the chance to fight back. Loud arguing catches your attention, and you turn around, pointing the gun at the two men approaching you.

Jungkook limping comes out of nowhere, fear evident on his face. He pushes Hoseok back before raising his hands, "he's lost his fucking mind! I found Nayeon by the garage, we need to get the fuck out of here." Jungkook tries to rush towards you voice quivering, before Hoseok pushes him to the floor as he holds his hands out toward you, "you gotta give me that gun! He killed my best friend, my Nayeon," the faux tears and the blood on his clothes aren't doing him any justice. The men continued to point at the other, screaming about all sorts of things. Hoseok begged for you to give him the gun, promising he could protect the both of you. At this moment, you can't truly trust either of them. One of them was guilty, and you weren't sticking around to find out which one. You run into the house and close the door, ignoring the screams from outside. They continue to beat on the door, pleading for you to let them in.

You hear your name being called from the top of the stairs. Your heart usually swells when you see him, but this sight wasn't something you enjoyed. Drenched in his blood, Taehyung stumbles down the stairs. You rush towards him, helping him hold himself up. He lets out small gasps, like he’s trying to catch his breath. Without thinking, you hand him the gun, knowing you'll be safer with him around. "We have to get out of here," you tell him, your voice hoarse and tears welling in your eyes. He shushed you, letting you know that you were safe now. "We gotta get the fuck out of here, now! Hoseok's lost it, he's gone mad," Jungkook pushes his way through the front door, immediately locking it behind him. Frantically pacing, he looks quite happy to see you two are still alive.

"Madness, is a lot like gravity, all it takes is a little push," Taehyung says, raising the gun, aiming it at Jungkook. You grip his arm, confused at his actions, only for him to fire a bullet through him. Falling through the table behind him, Jungkook hits the floor and now you're left alone. You scream in shock, staring at your friend lying on the floor. You want to rush over and hold him, you couldn’t lose another friend today. "Been waiting to do that all day. The little fucker figured it out too fast," Taehyung giggles, rubbing the barrel of the gun over his temple. You're confused, you watched him get slashed up in the bedroom, just to find out that he was behind it all. You willingly gave him a loaded gun, and now you’re about to lose your life.

Bolting towards the kitchen, looking for an escape, you come in contact with Hoseok. Falling into his chest, hands shaking as you pull on his shirt, "Hobi, we have to go now!" You start pushing him, trying to get him to run with you. He doesn’t move from his spot, just standing in front of you with a grin. Reaching into his pocket, Hoseok pulls out a black device. "Surprise, surprise," he speaks into the voice modifier, and you pull back in shock. The sound of his voice made your ears bleed, taking you back to the predicament from yesterday. You should've known it was them, all Hoseok did was defend Taehyung when he was guilty. The whole ordeal was confusing, nothing was making any sense. He was just supporting his accomplice, making sure neither of them got caught. You push past Hoseok, sending him into the wall.

When you think you've got away, here comes Taehyung, coming around the other side of the kitchen. Gun pointed in your face, as he backs you up against the kitchen sink. The way they stared at you made your skin crawl, you’d never been this uncomfortable in your life. "Where you going," Hoseok asks, as he approaches you, blocking off the area so you can't run away. "It's all a part of the movie, baby," Taehyung starts, keeping the gun in your face, "and you're the star, just like your father." You look down at the floor, too afraid to look either of them in the face. "Now, we're gonna ask you a few questions, alright? Get it wrong, you die," Hoseok jumps in to finish, "get it right, you still die." Taehyung puts the barrel to your head, shooting you a chilling smile, "There are only two survivors here, and I'm sorry, baby, but you didn't make the cut," the fake sadness in his voice was taunting.

You look up, glaring at the pair, "you both are psychotic! Fuck you," you shout, only for Taehyung to return the energy, "no, no, you already did that. Remember?" You feel sick to your stomach, remembering his hands all over your body, all of the sweet words he said to you. It was all a hoax and you fell for it. You felt disgusting, like you needed to scrub off this layer of your skin to feel better. Gripping the edge of the counter behind you, eyes moving back and forth between the two, "you're never gonna get away with this." You wanted to believe the words you were saying, but you weren’t sure. Clearly they’d planned this whole thing out by detail, they just might prevail. Taehyung bursts out in tears, laughing in your face, "oh, but we already did! Your father was an easy kill, and it was even easier to blame the whore he was sleeping with.” You feel your heart shatter like you're reliving the death of your father, all over again. You let out a small whine in disbelief. For months he’d been deceiving you, just for it to come out that he killed your dad. You needed to know what drove him to that decision and why he chose to string you along.

"Why'd you kill him," your words come out quietly as your head hangs low, you couldn’t bare to look at either of them. Absolutely repulsed at the fact that you had been friends with them for so long. They were the ones to console you when your father was killed, little did you know that they were the culprits. "Why? I think she wants a motive, Hobi," Taehyung turns to look at his friend, as they share a smile. They were excited to let you in on all of the gruesome details. "I don't really care for motives. You see, as our dear friend Jungkook told me, there's always a reason for everything. Motives come naturally and accidentally," he says, raising his voice toward the end of his statement. He looked at you like you were just a prop, a disposable piece in his movie. His aura was once warm and loving, now he just had the face of a psychopath. Eyes wide, a sinister smile, and a thirst for your blood.

"Did they ever find out why Jigsaw liked to kidnap people and put them in traps? Or why Leatherface liked to cut people up with a chainsaw," you raised your eyebrow in confusion. It was the wrong moment to argue, but you didn't care. You were dying tonight, so why not try and bruise his ego before you go, "we found out about both of them. For someone so obsessed with movies, you seem to know nothing about them." Your rebuttal has Taehyung scowling, his expression turning sour, as he looks appalled by your response. You're expecting him to at least hit you, even make another joke about killing your father, but instead, he takes another route. "You wanna know why your father's lying in a coffin? My mother was in love with your father, they’d been having an affair for months. Drove my dad away," you groan, knowing the chick from TV wasn't wrong, her theory was spot on. Your dad might’ve made a bad decision but he didn’t deserve to lose his life.

In the back, Hoseok is jumping around like he just took a hit of something, "your father was a man whore! Walking around town like he was some macho man. Somebody had to bring him back down to earth," every word felt like a kick in the teeth, "my father left me, you know what kind of damage abandonment has on a person? It made you slip up and sleep with a killer." You felt like you were about to pass out, wound still bleeding as you felt your brain shutting down. For months, you ignored the stories and theories about your father, only for it to all be proven correct. "Now let me tell you how this is gonna go," Taehyung speaks as he picks up the signature knife, handing the gun over to Hoseok.

"Your mother went crazy, her husband was murdered and she was traumatized. She went on a killing spree, getting everyone except me and Hoseok," knife touching your chest, tip poking into your skin. Chiming in, Hoseok keeps the gun pointed at you from afar, "she thought we were dead but no! We get to stick around and plan out the sequel!" If you heard the word 'movie' one more time, you were going to get the gun and finish yourself off. “I mean, people need to hear about this shit. Imagine the kind of movie deals we’re gonna get,” Hoseok was beyond animated, imagining how their lives will change once this is over. An idea pops into Taehyung's mind, a smirk coming onto his face, "why don't you go get my baby's surprise." He orders Hoseok to retrieve whatever sick secret they kept in the house, while he keeps his eyes on you.

"Oh, you're gonna love this one," Hoseok cackles as he backs out of the room. Silence fills the air as you're left with Taehyung. You look around the room, too disgusted to spare him another glance. He stares down at you, grinning like he’s won something special. You should've known there was something wrong with him, nobody is that perfect. You hear Hoseok coming back into the room, your eyes moving over to the entrance. A look of fright is painted on your face as you look at the body thrown to the floor. "Mom!" you whimper, trying to reach for her. She's tied up with tape over her mouth, looking like they roughed her up before her capture. "Stay back," Taehyung points the tip of the knife at your chin, making sure you can’t get to her. He liked watching you tremble, in a powerless position.

"Enough of this shit, let's get on with it!" Hoseok shouts, still jumping around. She makes eye contact with you, eyes widening in pure fear. She's innocent in all of this, and now she's about to be blamed for everything. It was your dad that fucked up, and now she would suffer the consequences. You felt like there was nothing you could do to save her or yourself. You couldn't believe the scene in front of you: your boyfriend pointing a knife at you, your friend pointing a gun in your face, and your mother on the floor. Lost for words, you decided to prepare yourself for whatever would come next. "Hold still," Taehyung turns to Hoseok, raising the knife into the air. To your surprise, he's plunging it into Hoseok's abdomen, "FUCK," he wails out, as he’s stabbed near his chest. You couldn’t believe your eyes, they were truly committed to their plan, willing to be sliced for five minutes of fame.

Blood drips to the floor as he screams in pain, "Your turn," one hand gripping the island, and the other reaching out for the knife. The look on his face was horrifying, like he was excited to return the favor to his accomplice. Taehyung hesitantly hands over the weapon and grabs ahold of your T-shirt. "Not too deep," he directs as he braces himself. Knife penetrating his lower abdomen as he shrieks in pain. Taehyung smacks a glass cup off of the counter, letting it shatter on the kitchen floor. The knife piercing his skin hurt like hell, neither of them prepared well for this part of the act. You watch as the two continue to take turns, tearing into one another, screams of agony coming from them both. The counter covered in blood, dripping onto the kitchen floor. "You sick fucks, this isn't just some movie," you shout from the corner of the room, slowly backing away from the two men. Clothes covered in their own blood, holes from the knife slashing their attire. "But it is, sweetie! This is act three, and I'm sorry but your role has been cut short," Taehyung giggles in your face, a pained look remaining, after being cut into by his friend. You stand there in shock, unsure how you got yourself caught in the middle of a movie. The men continue to slice and dice each other, you watched closely, jaw hanging and eyes wide.

On the other side of the room, Hoseok is leaning against the island, his hand over his largest wound, trying to stop the blood from spilling. "Give me the gun," Taehyung gives Hoseok an order, his hand waiting for the weapon as he glares at you. You felt like you were on fire, his gaze burning through your skin. Your mother was next to go, choosing to save you for last. "Uhhh," Hoseok mutters, nervousness evident in his voice, "I don’t know where it is, man," He looks around the room in shock. Taehyung clenched his jaw, groaning, the last thing he needed was a missing weapon with their fingerprints all over it, "don't just stand there! Find it," he barks at him, his voice startled you, making you jump. Hoseok searches the room, looking under every surface. "I have a better idea for your movie," everyone stops at the sound of a new voice, confused as to what's happening.

A surprise cast member, coming to rescue you from the third act. You finally look up, eyes landing on your friend with a gun in his hand, "Namjoon comes across you two idiots and saves the day." He speaks confidently, walking further into the room. He never left the house after the party, he chose to stay back and watch movies, hiding once he heard screaming. You have never been this excited to see him. A bit of hope runs through your body, you feel like you might finally stand a chance in this situation. "I think I like this ending much better," you mutter in the background, earning a chuckle from your friend. Namjoon aims the gun at Taehyung, pulling the trigger, "what's the matter," Taehyung walks towards him, making him back out of the room quickly. He opens the door, but before he can escape, Taehyung makes a swift move. With a brutal punch to the face, Namjoon is knocked down, his body piling next to Seokjin's.

Taehyung approaches the bodies, picking up the gun he dropped. "These things work so much better when you turn the safety off. Say goodnight," he snickers, turning off the safety and aiming the gun at his head. "Umm, Tae! We have an even bigger problem," Hoseok shouts from the kitchen, looking frazzled. Too entertained with the battle in front of him, he forgot to keep his eyes on the other victims. As Taehyung rushes back into the kitchen, frantically looking around. He wondered, how the hell did you managed to get out so quietly.

Leaving Namjoon alone, Taehyung rushes back to the kitchen, as angry as ever. "Where the fuck is she," he screams at the man, pushing him around. You and your mother were nowhere to be found. As soon as their attention was off of you two, you quickly fled the scene. Hoseok takes a seat, an exhausted look on his face, "find her! Get u-" before Taehyung can finish, the landline begins to ring. They get silent as Taehyung reaches for the phone, "you should really think twice before turning your back," he says, recognizing your voice with the modifier. Getting visibly upset, he shouts into the phone, "bitch! We're gonna finish you off like we did your fucking father," cackling on the other side of the phone, and you give him the best response, "awe baby, you gotta find me first." Now that you’re on the other side of things, you return his taunting energy. Toying with him as he did you.

He sets the phone down next to Hoseok, before smacking him on the back of the head. "Get the fuck up, Hoseok," Taehyung grunted, as his friend is resting on the countertop. Hardly able to construct a sentence, he groans, "you cut me too deep man," he looks like he's about to pass out at any moment. Enraged by Hoseok's inability to help find you, he rushes off by himself, running throughout the first floor. It’s apparent that he’s run out of tricks. The police were on their way and you were nowhere to be found. His movie ending was crumbling right before his eyes and he couldn’t handle it. "Hello," Hoseok picks up the phone, his blood dripping all over the Dialpad. "What are you gonna do, Hobi? The police are on the way, Tae already has a motive, what about you," he tries to find the strength to respond, as he feels like he's about to slip away. "He pressured me into this, I'm easy to manipulate," Taehyung is still in the back, tearing up the couches, and kicking over household items. "You didn't really call the cops, did you," cackling at his question, you're quick to respond, "of course I did." Clearly, that wasn't the answer he wanted, a wail coming from the back of his throat, "this house is a mess, I am so dead!" He was absolutely insane, sobbing about getting in trouble for a messy house, when he just committed several murders.

Taehyung stalks through the halls, moving as quietly as he can. Gun gripped in his right hand, as he kicks open every other door. At this point, he was running out of options. The police were on their way and they knew what he did. He might be going to jail but he needed you to die first. He’s eager to find you and finish you off himself. You’ve already ruined their plan, there was no way he was going to let you escape. Little does he know, you aren’t too far from where he was. Out of nowhere, a closet door busts open, and here you come, leaping out at him. Raising your weapon, you impale his chest with the same knife he tried to use on you. "Bitch," he groans out in pain, his body starting to drop to the floor. Looking down at him, you think everything is finally over, putting the knife in your back pocket. You begin to walk towards Jungkook on the floor, wanting to see if he was okay, until you're tackled sideways. Hoseok came out of nowhere, seeming to have regained some of his energy. Your back comes in contact with the wood floor, a shooting pain passes through your body. You’ve been fighting all night, but you don’t plan on giving up anytime soon.

Hoseok hovers over you, wrapping his hands around your neck, "die already!" He presses down, ignoring your hands clawing at his forearms. You raise your knee, hitting him in his groin. Hoseok falls back in pain, moaning on the floor. You hop to your feet, trying to catch your breath. You scan the room for the nearest exit. The stairs being your first choice, you sprint up the steps. You slip into an empty bedroom, closing the door behind yourself. Hiding from him was practically pointless, this was his house, you were at a disadvantage. “Don’t run baby,” Hoseok shouts, busting into the room. He charges towards you, hands instantly wrapping around your throat. “The movie isn’t finished, you’re ruining everything,” he screams every word in your face, bits of his spit hitting your face. He starts tightening the grip on your neck, making you thrash. Your hands come up to his face, trying your hardest to push him away. Hoseok backs you in a corner, your body colliding with the wall. You feel your life slipping away, running out of air in your lungs. You reach into your back pocket, raising the knife up. Jamming the end of the blade into his forehead, making him grunt, you could feel his hands loosen the grip on your neck. Pressing your foot against the wall, you push yourself forward, causing him to stumble back.

He lets you go before he drops to the floor, hands coming up to console the sore spot on his face. You lie in the corner, caressing your neck like it would help make the pain go away. You gather all of the strength you have to pick yourself up and hobble out of the room. You were on the verge of dropping to the floor, having to use the walls in the hallway to hold yourself up. Just when you thought you had gotten a substantial amount of space between you two, he catches up quickly. Right behind you as you approach the stairs, “why won’t you die!” You try to ignore the screams behind you, as a pair of hands pulls you back. You drop to the floor, making sure to keep ahold of the knife in your hands. Grabbing your shirt, Hoseok snatches you up. As your feet hit the floor, you raise the knife up, plummeting it in his chest. Letting go of you, Hoseok drops to his knees hands coming up to grab the railing. You decide to give him the same ending that he tried to give you. You pick your foot up, pressing it against his chest. You watch as he tumbles down the stairs, before hitting the wood floor at the end. A slight smile crawling onto your face, this being the best thing to happen to you all day.

You quietly walk down the stairs, just in case there’s another unwanted surprise waiting for you. Limping into the living room, you find yourself looking for another way to escape. "Jungkook," you notice your friend hobble into the room. You rush towards him, examining his chest, saying, "I thought you were dead." He looks relieved to see you, throwing his arm over your shoulder, saying, "I definitely should be, I’ve never been so happy to not get any action." You choose to ignore whatever he's rambling about, your brain is too clouded to comprehend anything. "This is one of the worst movies ever," a voice groans from behind you two. Namjoon is rubbing his head as he walks over to you guys. He gawks around the room, shocked to see the state of the house. Pictures and statues knocked over, glass coating the floor. You stand around, looking at the bodies on the floor, knowing your life has been changed forever.

"Wait, I've seen movies like this, it ain't over. Evil always comes back, you need to shoot it in the head," Jungkook's commentary concerned you. Nudging his body with your foot, you wait for him to pop up. His body remains still and stiff. “I guess this movie has an alternate ending,” you mutter, before limping over to the closet to untie your mother. “Are you okay,” you ask, already knowing the answer as you pull the duct tape from her mouth. All she could do was grunt, she was in horrible shape, bruises all over her face from her attack. Jungkook and Namjoon come over to help you, untying her wrists and ankles.

“It’s Billy,” a quite voice speaks from the front door. You all whip your heads around in unison, scared as to what might lurking behind them. You feel a lump caught in your throat, words unable to leave your mouth. “Holy shit, you should be dead,” Jungkook stops his movements as he observes the person in front of him. You feel like your paralyzed, too confused to make a move. Something pulls you back into reality, you jump up to your feet and run across the room. Colliding with your best friend, wrapping your arms around her. You pull away, examining her wounds. She leans into your chest, on the verge of collapsing, “I’m fine, so is Jin,” she points over to her brother on the floor, regaining his consciousness.

Once the police arrive with EMTs beside them, you truly believed it was all over. Evil was defeated and none of your friends lost their lives in the process. You’re in the back of ambulance, sitting on the edge, as you wounds are being tended to and you’re hooked up to machines. Looking over, your friends have the same thing going on, faces looking exhausted yet thankful that they made it out alive. For the first time in a long time, you felt like you could breath. “We got two more in here! They’re still breathing,” your heart beats rapidly, making the machines go haywire. Tears run down your bloodstained cheeks as you watch paramedics go rescue the same two men that tried to kill you. Your mind was hazy, you didn’t know what to say or what to think. All you could do was let out an agonizing scream.

#bts #bts fic #bts x reader #bts smut #kim taehyung #bts horror #scream au #fic: don’t scream #taehyung fics #taehyung x reader #bts au #bts oneshot #taehyung smut

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hoseokhasmyheartxx · 2 years ago

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Craving You | KTH

*Pairing: bad boy!Taehyung x f!Reader *Word Count: 2k *Genre: friends with benefits-ish? au, non-idol au, a bit of fluff at the end if you squint, SMUT *Warnings: NSFW SMUT, MINORS DNI. angry sex, bit of nipple play, implied unprotected sex (be smart, ya perverts!), dom/sub roles, face slapping, spanking, use of titles 'sir' and 'baby,' piv sex, Tae is mean to her but that's kinda the point, mentions of injuries/blood, implied bad decisions on Tae's part, bad boy Tae, uhhh i dunno what else but let me know if i should add anything else here! *Summary: Taehyung has a reputation. When his reputation leaves him bloodied and bruised, you only want to help. But the way he wants you to help takes you by surprise. *A/N: welp, here i am, once again inspired by some shit that bangtan pulled on the interwebs. thank you, SO MUCH, elle korea, for those fucking photos and for being the cause of this one. also, thank you so much to @thvhoe for this request; i hope you like it!

Prompt from this list!

Main Masterlist

Taehyung was in one of his moods again. You could tell from the minute he walked into your apartment, door slamming behind him as he stormed through your hallway to find you on the couch, staring at him amusedly.

“Hey, cranky ass. Good day today?” you asked with a laugh. Taehyung could only stare at you angrily as he plopped down on the couch next to you. Your best friend was known to show up at your apartment unannounced pretty regularly, but he rarely showed his angry side around you. Only when things went really badly did he let it out in the open, so you naturally assumed today was one of those days.

“Just.. shut up, for once. Okay?” he huffed at you, scowl spreading across his face. You never asked about his day or what he spent his time doing outside of work. You knew his reputation, you knew he was probably involved in some questionable stuff. But the bruises purpling the bridge of his nose and the corner of his bottom lip left you filled with worry. Worry about what he was doing, worry about if he’d get out of it alive. You silently got up from the couch, heading for your kitchen. Grabbing a cold cloth from your freezer (you kept a few in there for times like these), you padded your way back to the living room. Standing in front of him, you reached for him with the cloth, moving to press it against the side of his face gently, but you were surprised by Taehyung grabbing your wrist roughly, stopping you. You froze, not sure what to do next.

“Look, I’m just trying to help. No need to be an ass,” you scoffed.

“If you want to help, shut up and get on top of me,” he replied, staring right at you, eyes unwavering.

“Tae, you’re not as funny as you think you are,” you laughed out. Taehyung had said some wild shit in the few years you’d known him, but this time had to take the cake for his worst.

“I’m not trying to be funny. I’m serious. Get over here.”

You didn’t reply. You didn’t move. It was like your mind and body were suspended in time, only thinking about the words that had just left his mouth. You couldn’t deny it, Taehyung was hot as fuck. Hot enough for you to go along with whatever wild plan he had in mind, no questions asked? You weren’t sure, but you didn’t have time to form a response, because suddenly your body was jerked forward as he pulled you by the arm. Your knees hit his, and you were lifted by the backs of your thighs until you were nose-to-nose with him, straddling him. Your breath hitched in your throat, but he left you no time to recover from that sudden action, as his next was right behind it.

Taehyung’s mouth engulfed yours, his lips feeling like fire on yours as he grasped the back of your neck tightly in one hand. A quiet whine left your lips, and he took the slight opening of your mouth as an opportunity to run his tongue along your bottom lip, pressing forward to gain entry to your mouth. His tongue overtook yours, and all you could do was give in and follow his lead. Maybe in any other circumstance this would have gone differently, but with the mood he’d come in with, you were almost afraid to question him. You were pliant in his hold, feeling all-consumed by him. His kisses were rough, desperate even. His hold on your neck didn’t let up as his other arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you tighter against him. Your arms moved to wrap around his neck, and as you did that, you were suddenly lifted up as Taehyung stood. Holding tightly under your thighs, he walked in the direction of your bedroom, still kissing you hungrily.

Setting you gently down on your bed, he broke the kiss, his breathing heavy as he towered over you, holding your chin in his hand. The pissed off look on his face remained, but his tone was calm as he said, “You don’t have to do this.”

“No.. I, uh.. I want to,” you responded, not breaking eye contact, even though you so desperately wanted to. Taehyung was intimidating on a normal day, but today? He was lethal. He snickered, staring down at you still.

“Good girl. Now, take that dress off.”

You stuttered, not used to this demanding attitude. “Tae…” you squeaked out.

“You heard me. Take. It. Off.”

Moving slowly, you took the hem of your dress in your hands, pulling it up and off, setting it to the side. He swiped it off your bed, and all at once, he was climbing on top of you, one knee spreading your legs, pinning your hands above your head with one of his.

“What’s your fucking safe word, hmm?” he growled in your ear, moving to lap at the column of your throat.

“Uh..” you let out, not sure what to say. This was something you’d never participated in, so you’d never even thought about a word to use. He tsked, clearly unamused.

“Alright. Color system good with you? Green is good, yellow slow down, and red stop?” he asked, laughing a bit at your obvious lack of experience in this.

You nodded, wanting to do whatever you had to do to get him to continue.

“Words, baby. I need you to speak.”

“Y-yes. Color system is fine,” you answered.

Chuckling once again, he nipped sharply at your neck. “Yes, what?”

Oh. You gulped, knowing what he wanted to hear but finding it hard to give it to him. You had never called someone that in bed, but there’s a first time for everything, and it looked like tonight would be that for you.

“Yes, sir,” you let out, turning your head to the side a bit to avert his gaze, trying hard not to laugh as the word came out. You immediately regretted that decision, as you felt a sting hit the side of your cheek as he slapped you, grabbing your chin in his hand. His thumb pressed lightly against your throat, making you look at him again.

“I’ll let that one slide, this time. Color?” he breathed out, anger showing on his face again.

“Green..” you answered hesitantly. With that, he pressed his knee harder into the space between your legs, kissing you once more. He let go of your hands, running his hands down your body to your breasts. Taking one nipple in between his fingers, he pinched, hard. You moaned into his mouth, letting yourself fall apart underneath him. Rolling the nipple between his fingers again to ease the pain, he traced his fingers farther down your body, stopping at the hem of your underwear. Using both hands, he pulled them off of you, leaving you naked under his fully clothed form. You felt vulnerable, but at the same time, strangely turned on by this newfound power imbalance. You reached for his shirt, tugging at it slightly, hoping he’d get the hint.

“Nuh uh. Use your words. What do you want, baby?” he snickered, watching you with fully blown pupils.

“Get.. get undressed,” you let out, “I.. want you to fuck me. Sir.”

Watching as his eyes darkened, you knew you were in trouble. The good kind of trouble. His shirt came off first, and you couldn’t help staring at his toned body. Pants and boxer briefs came off next, leaving the two of you fully naked, finally. Your eyes widened as you noticed just how big he was. He reached down and slid his fingers down your slit, and a loud moan came out of your mouth. Chuckling, he began rubbing circles on your clit, sliding your slick around as he inserted two fingers, watching you react under his touch. It didn’t take long for you to be dripping, his fingers easily sliding in and out of your hole.

“Breathe, baby,” he assured you as he slid the tip of his cock to your entrance. Immediately, you felt the burn of a stretch that, surprisingly, you welcomed. Breathing through your nose, you gripped his shoulders, allowing him to set the pace as he slowly pushed inch by inch into you. As he bottomed out inside of you, he kissed your lips gently, with a passion that wasn’t there before. It surprised you, but you allowed yourself to be devoured by him then. “Color?”

“Green,” you replied as you nodded under his lips, the feeling of his cock filling you overtaking you now. With that, he pushed himself up and gripped both of your hands in his, pinning them against the bed at the sides of your head as he pulled back and thrusted deep into you, hitting every spot you didn’t know you had. You let out a gasp as he continued powering into you, feeling his cockhead drag against your g-spot just right. Just then, he stopped, leaving you whining at the loss of his dick inside of you.

“Flip over. Ass up, baby,” he let out, lightly tapping the side of your thigh. You lifted your waist and began to twist to flip onto your hands and knees, but suddenly you were grabbed by the waist as Taehyung flipped you himself, shoving your face into the pillow underneath you. He thrusted deep into you again, not wasting any time letting you adjust to him this time. At this angle, he was able to hit your g-spot even easier, and you immediately moaned out his name, feeling like you were already about to come.

“What’s that?” he asked, a hint of sarcasm in his deep voice.

“Tae.. Sir.. I’m gonna come!” you gasped out, barely able to form words. At this point, you weren’t sure if it was from how good he was making you feel, or from how your mouth was shoved down against your pillow, but either way, you weren’t lying. A few thrusts later, you were crying out his name again, shuddering as your orgasm washed over you. You shook, barely able to hold yourself up as Taehyung continued pushing into you, his thrusts becoming more erratic as he got closer to his own orgasm.

“You’re gonna regret that, baby. I didn’t hear you ask permission, did I?” he asked as his hand swung down onto your ass cheek, leaving a stinging handprint where he made contact. You yelped, gulping as he thrusted as deep as he could, leaving fingerprints in the dip of your hips. He stuttered, pulling out of you, and you felt hot spurts land on your ass as he finished.

“Fuck, you’re so hot,” he groaned, watching as he covered you in his release. You felt the mattress dip behind you as he stood and walked to your bathroom, coming back minutes later with a cloth. Cleaning you up quickly, he smacked your ass again, forcing a yelp from your exhausted body.

“Tae..” you started, turning over onto your back. Watching as he left your bedroom again, you pulled your comforter over yourself, feeling suddenly shy. You had just fucked your best friend, and who knew what would happen now. Before you could really think about it, he was back, and he seemed like his normal, goofy self again. Like the persona he’d just taken on in your bed had never existed.

“There’s a lot of things I’m having to let slide from tonight. But I wasn’t joking when I said you’d regret that. Next time, I won’t be so easy on you,” he said with a smirk, pushing you to the side to slide in bed next to you.

“Next time?” you asked, incredulous.

Taehyung chuckled, kissing your temple gently.

“Oh, baby. You thought I was done with you? No,” he laughed out in a mocking tone, “I’ve been craving you for years. Now that I’ve had a taste, I only want more.”

Your eyes widened as Taehyung kissed your temple once more, pulling you closer to him.

What in fresh hell had you gotten yourself into?

#bts #bts fic #bts fics #bts fanfic #bts fanfics #bts smut #kim taehyung #taehyung x reader #taehyung fic #taehyung fics #taehyung fanfic #taehyung fanfics #taehyung smut #thebtswritersclub

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agustdenovo · 5 months ago

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✧

i do not give permission for anyone to copy, repost or translate my works. stealing/plagiarising any of my work is strictly prohibited; and if anyone happens to see my writing published on anywhere that isn't my tumblr or ao3, please let me know asap. if you are a minor, please refrain from interacting with or reading any of my works tagged as containing smut/suggestive themes.

i do not use any other platforms to publish my writings beside ao3 and tumblr.

with that being said, i hope you enjoy reading my fics!

legend: ✿ — fluff, ★ — smut, ☁ — angst, ♡ — fav status: ✓ — completed, ✑ — wip, ❆ — hiatus

✧

bangtan

in the works...

kim namjoon

☾⋆⁺₊✧ one-shots. ✧₊⁺⋆☽

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ fics. ✧₊⁺⋆☽⋆.˚₊✩

coming soon...

kim seokjin

☾⋆⁺₊✧ one-shots. ✧₊⁺⋆☽

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ fics. ✧₊⁺⋆☽⋆.˚₊✩

coming soon...

min yoongi

☾⋆⁺₊✧ one-shots. ✧₊⁺⋆☽

Eye of the Storm (Yoongi's POV.) — 【 ☁, ✓ 】

⤷ a HYYH yoonkook one-shot.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ fics. ✧₊⁺⋆☽⋆.˚₊✩

coming soon...

jung hoseok

☾⋆⁺₊✧ one-shots. ✧₊⁺⋆☽

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ fics. ✧₊⁺⋆☽⋆.˚₊✩

coming soon...

park jimin

☾⋆⁺₊✧ one-shots. ✧₊⁺⋆☽

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ fics. ✧₊⁺⋆☽⋆.˚₊✩

coming soon...

kim taehyung

☾⋆⁺₊✧ one-shots. ✧₊⁺⋆☽

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ fics. ✧₊⁺⋆☽⋆.˚₊✩

coming soon...

jeon jungkook

☾⋆⁺₊✧ one-shots. ✧₊⁺⋆☽

Eye of the Storm (Yoongi's POV.) — 【 ☁, ✓ 】

⤷ a HYYH yoonkook one-shot.

Pick-Me-Up — 【 ✿, ☁, ✑ 】

in the works!

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ fics. ✧₊⁺⋆☽⋆.˚₊✩

coming soon...

send my characters an ask!

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thekaykery · 1 year ago

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Chimni

Ruler: Park Jimin

Crystal: Aquamarine

Capital: Quamari (qua-mar-ree)

Society

Like Sugaru, Chimni also closely follows Armi, keeping the Continent safe with ancient magic the Seers possess. It is a common practice to bless newborns with Armi's luck to let fate guide them as they grow. The people of Chimni are lucky because of this, which sometimes gets them into trouble when visiting other countries. Chimnians are positive and hopeful, a little stubborn too. Peace and harmony are the foundations of every household. The youth are respectful towards their elders. They keep the youth in check, which is why violence is a rare occurrence. Chimni is additionally a popular vacation spot. Its glittering cities and delightful scenery draw people in from other countries and lands, as it is a wonderful place to live out one's golden years.

Economy

Chimni profits from ore in the mountains, such as silver, copper, steel, and iron. The main treasure, however, are the precious gems within the caves. Aquamarine, diamond, and emerald are the 3 native crystals. They are sent out to jewelers and craftsmen across the Continent. There is another crystal as well. It is rare and can be found deep within Chimni's lakes: Omala. It is said to have healing properties. Freshwater fish is another source of income, in addition with grain and livestock.

Environment & Climate

Since Chimni is about halfway through the Continent, it experiences all kinds of weather: Heavy rain, high winds, scorching heat. An occasional winter storm will blow through from Joonia and Kooju. For most of the year, Chimni is gently warm with momentary cold flashes. Mountains and forests are littered across Chimni, lakes and rivers mapping the land. In northern Chimni, the soil is brittle and dry because of the cold. Further south, it is moist and fertile.

Jimin as High Seer

Background

Born to a human mother and High Fae father, Jimin did not have a nice childhood. He was often mocked, called “halfbreed” and “impure.” Because of this, Jimin struggled with his self-esteem and confidence growing up. He began loving himself for who he is in the early part of his first century of life. Losing his mother was incredibly tough. When his father tired of ruling Chimni, Jimin took the helm and became High Seer. The adjustment was difficult. Most of the fae turned their backs on him. The humans, however, loved him, thankful that their new leader understood them. His mother, nicknamed Mother of the Seer, is often included in their prayers. They are grateful to her for blessing the country with a half-human ruler.

Personality

Jimin is a kind and gentle soul. His relationship with his people is important to him. Though his connections with the fae are tenuous, Jimin is close with his human subjects. These are his mother’s people. Jimin is eternally thankful they accepted him. He can be mischievous at times, and his teasing can get him into trouble. He is handsome, and Jimin wields it to his advantage, alluring women and flustering men alike. He is headstrong and brave. Jimin is close with High Priest Yoongi of Sugaru. Yoongi is Armi’s direct voice, and Jimin occasionally receives visions from her. Some are vague; others are clear. Due to Jimin’s gift, this allows Chimni and Sugaru to have a dexterous relationship.

Hierarchy of the Seers

High Seer/Seeress

Seer/Seeress

Novice

Acolyte

Strongest branches of militia

Although the Continent is at peace, each country has prepared forces ready for battle. These forces are for external invasion rather than internal. Chimni's strongest battalion is the aria (airforce). Since a small portion of Chimni is shared with the sea, it is an unlikely place of intrusion. Air patrols are vital to the safety of Chimni and its people.

Religion

Like Sugaru, Chimnians mainly practice armina. This is most common in human households. Other religions – catallia, jedwa, ismala, and lukana – are also present and practiced. The fae previously worshiped Armi, but after her death, they stopped and forgot her.

Important locations

Will be added

portrait done by @winterofherdiscontent

#bts #bts smut #bts angst #bts fluff #namjoon #namjoon fics #seokjin #seokjin fics #yoongi #yoongi fics #hoseok #hoseok fics #jimin #jimin fics #taehyung #taehyung fics #jungkook #jungkook fics

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sweetiereads · 2 years ago

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dreamlike letters ; bangtan monthly fics

hi loves! welcome to the masterpost of my monthy reads. they are primarily bts fics, as they are my ult group. but there are some members sprinkled in there from other kpop groups too. be sure to send the authors your love and support ♡

❥ january / 2023 ❥ february / 2023 ❥ march / 2023 ❥ april / 2023 ❥ may / 2023 ❥ june / 2023

#bts fics #seokjin fics #yoongi fics #hoseok fics #namjoon fics #jimin fics #taehyung fics #jungkook fics #bts smut #bts angst #bts fluff #bts scenarios #bts imagines #sweetieguk

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spideyjimin · 3 months ago

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Do you write stories about V from BTS??

hi angel ✨

yes, so far, i’ve 2 fics + 1 ongoing series:

until i found her

beast

un cielo di perle

i still need to update my masterlist but so far, that’s what i have 🤗

#1234violet #ask #taehyung fics #bts v fics #catie speaks

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curryshesus · 5 months ago

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jeon jungkook fics that had me going feral

hi guys, here's a part 2 to my favorite jjk fics on tumblr! note that many of these fics contain 18+ content. you are responsible for the content you consume! as always, if you enjoyed any of these fics as much as i did, please take a moment to send some love to the authors! part 1 | other bts members

➺ cold nights & blurred lines - by @awrkive

summary: jungkook and you have been in a sexual relationship with each other for four months now, and it’s casual for the most part. but as time passes, you can’t help but feel that some of the lines suddenly got blurred in the process. is it a cliché to blur the lines with your fuck buddy? it definitely is. will you do something about it? both of your emotional constipation have a hard time saying yes.

➺ night crawlers - by @alphabetboyluvr

summary: jungkook’s always been good at running. track, field, red lights, shit outta luck. drugs, now, too. but he doesn’t expect to run into you. in your shared lecture halls, sure. maybe. but not down the back alleys of daerim at ass o’clock in the morning. there are only three types of women he ever sees in daerim: hookers, sugar-babies and addicts. you aren't any of those; you're a trust-fund baby who can get percocet on private repeat prescription, if you really want it. he's sure of it. so it then further begs the question: why the fuck are you here?

➺ this is how you fall in love - by @jeonqkooks

summary: after years of drinking and clubbing most days of the week and leaving every gig with a different girl on his arm, jungkook feels what it’s like to want someone with his entire being.

➺ the dilf installments - by @mercurygguk

summary: this series follows jungkook’s life as a divorced father. but wait, how exactly does one balance being a father, a boyfriend, a friend, and a respectable boss at the same time? read the installments below to find out!

➺ ultimatum - by @parkmuse

summary: your pervy, idiotic boyfriend just so happens to also be your friendly neighborhood Spider-man (in bed).

➺ a hero's journey - by @hansolmates

summary: jungkook and jisoo are the mightiest power couple. however, one drunken confession and that whole facade fades in an instant. you realize that maybe you need to break from your unvaried life for a bit and be the hero of your own love story

➺ tempest - by @kooktrash

summary: you’ve always considered your life to be more mundane than you would like to admit. it was a constant cycle of the same things over and over again that when you meet jeon jungkook at a bar, of all places, you didn’t expect to see just how much he would change your life and those around you. he’s got an air of mystery around him with his charming good looks and a violent past that you slowly begun to unravel when it feels like everything is going perfect.

➺ by its cover - by @gimmesumsuga

summary: the one where Jungkook makes a horrifically bad first impression.

➺ slow dancing - by @yoonia

summary: when your countdown appeared on your wrist right in the morning of your eighteenth birthday, you had thought that perhaps the universe was on your side, especially since the final seconds were already ticking so soon. You just never expected to have your first meeting with your soulmate to be the day when you had to let him go. But hope was not lost when you still found love without the bond, and Jungkook showed you that it was possible to find happiness beyond the system that was written for you. Except that the universe doesn’t seem to have enough of its game, when your past sacrifice comes back hitting you straight in the face, just when you had believed that you had written off the perfect ending to your bittersweet tale.

➺ e s p r e s s o - by @joonberriess

➺ hold me closer - by @ahundredtimesover

summary: when you're asked to look after your parents' house and meet them before they go on vacation, you, Jimin, and Jungkook take the trip to your hometown of Busan and relive memories of your youth. While your new relationship has you feeling like a lovesick teenager with all the affection that Jungkook shows you, you're still you - a professional trying to make it in the corporate world, and an eldest child trying not to disappoint her parents. And that turns out to be your undoing, as a little blunder causes a rift between you and Jungkook, resulting in a trip that you might as well have messed up… Not if your brother can help it, though.

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veronawrites · 1 year ago

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LESHUGOOOOO OMG i can’t wait for the next chapter 😭

Of Ruin: Chapter 1 || KTH

(banner by @/itaeewon)

Of Ruin (Masterpost)

Rating: NSFW - minors dni Genre: vampire!au magic!au royalty!au, s2l, slow burn, eventual smut, angst and fluff

Summary: Taehyung of House Rune, Prince of Infracticus has been cursed. You’re the human world’s leading curse-breaker. It should be simple. But unraveling the curse becomes the least of your problems in the face of a world on the brink of civil war… and the love you start to feel for the prince.

A/N: Thank you endlessly to @/sailoryooons for betaing!!! 💕

Section Warnings: vampire hunting and killing, blood and gore in vampire attacks, language

WC: 5.7k

Maggie’s mother always told her nothing good happens after midnight. Maggie disagreed. Lots of good things happened after midnight. Usually in bars with loud music, her friends’ laughter ringing in her ears and a little too much alcohol singing in her bloodstream.

That was the case tonight - and the night had been wonderful. She and Farrah had still been going strong at midnight, throwing back shots in tandem. The DJ had been stellar and they’d danced until their feet hurt. And, the piece de resistance, they’d run into that guy from their Econ class - the one with the dark eyes and killer smile. He’d stayed with them the whole tail end of the night - even offered to walk them home, back to their apartment building.

He’d stayed with them, but his eyes had been on Maggie. And when, on the walk home, Farrah skipped ahead of them, buzzed and happy, he’d tugged on her hand and kissed her sweetly, right there on the sidewalk.

Nothing good happens after midnight, who?

And then, something weird happened. The stretch of sidewalk seemed suddenly darker, as if there was something between them and the flickering streetlight - like netting, or mist. It seemed, suddenly, that the lack of light was an entity - alive, all around them, shifting and changing and wanting.

“Farrah,” Maggie called, the hairs on her arms starting to stand. She’d only been a bit ahead of them, but somehow Maggie was having a hard time seeing her friend. Econ Guy put his arm around Maggie’s shoulders protectively, glancing around them.

But there was nothing to see except darkness that felt darker.

“What in the fuck?” he muttered, and then two things happened so quickly that to Maggie’s human eyes, it seemed to be at once: a bit of darkness moved much too fast just in front of her, and Farrah’s body slumped to the ground.

“Farrah!” Maggie screamed, her breath caught in her throat. She started towards her friend’s motionless body, but she was tugged back. Econ Guy was pointing at Farrah’s body, his mouth moving like he was trying to make a word, but couldn’t. Maggie looked again, closer.

The darkness that had moved was bent over Farrah’s body, obscuring their view of her shoulder and face. Maggie’s heart beat so hard in her chest that it hurt, and a tingling she associated with panic started in her fingertips as her body pleaded with her to run.

“What is it?” Maggie whispered in horror. Beside her, Econ Guy made a choked sound and took a step backwards, his arm falling away from her, all pretenses of toughness vanishing.

At the sound of her hushed question, it looked at them, head snapping up, the motion sharp and jerky. Then, it clambered to its feet, stepping over Farrah’s body and staggering towards them. As it approached, Maggie could see it - him - for the first time.

He was undeniably beautiful - or would have been, if it weren’t for the blood, black like ink in this light, running in rivulets from his mouth down to his chin. Could have been, if not for the inhuman growls and snarls that rippled from his chest like the start of an antique lawn mower, if not for the way his eyes were glossy black, no pupils or irises visible at all. Could have been, if not for the inhumanly long incisors ending below his curled upper lip.

“Infracti,” Maggie said hollowly.

Beside her, Econ Guy found his voice again. “Hey,” he said sternly. “You can’t hunt here. It’s against the law.”

The Infracti stalked closer, unblinking, then stopped a few feet before them. Its upper lip was curled in what looked like disgust, displaying its most fearsome weapons clearly. Maggie’s entire body shook and she dropped to the ground, her legs refusing to hold her up - let alone to run.

Not that she could outrun an Infracti.

The beast looked at them evenly, then stuck out its tongue and languidly - as if putting on a show - licked its lips, sucking a few more drops of Farrah’s blood into its mouth. Maggie didn’t see the monster move, but suddenly Econ Guy was screaming, arms flailing as he tried and failed to shove the Infracti away from his body. The Infracti’s long fingers gripped his upper arms tightly, holding Econ Guy in place, its frightening face buried in the crook of his neck.

The scream fizzled to a sob. The Infracti opened its hands - fingers splayed purposefully as it emptied them - and its victim’s body hit the pavement. The sound - a round, weighty thud - echoed through Maggie’s head as the Infracti turned to face her. Its all-black eyes seemed calculating, in their own way. Still on the ground, Maggie was almost face to face with Econ Guy’s corpse. His eyes were still wide and frightened, though unseeing.

The Infracti stepped closer to her, gently, carefully, and then it crouched down, swirling black eyes meeting hers. The growls subsided, and Maggie thought wildly that it looked almost thoughtful. Her heart wasn’t beating anymore as much as vibrating. Her breaths were so shallow they barely counted, and the night swam around her.

When Maggie was seven, her grandmother was mugged while they were walking together. In the moment, her grandmother had tossed her purse into the street, and grabbed Maggie’s hand to run when the thief lunged for the bag. When Maggie asked about it later, in that way that kids do, her grandmother had explained to her, “He wasn’t interested in you or me. He was interested in my money. I gave him what he wanted, so he left me alone.”

Now, eye to eye with a beast straight out of her nightmares, Maggie saw her grandmother’s face, heard her sweet voice. I gave him what he wanted, so he left me alone. Tentatively, she held out her wrist, veins up. The beast moved like liquid again, a shifting of darkness, until he was closer to her, her wrist clutched tight in his cool grasp. Then, gently, as if he were a gentleman kissing the back of her hand in greeting, he brought her wrist to his lips and let his fangs pierce the flesh.

Taehyung wakes to a shout; he becomes aware of the pain before anything else. His head throbs, his throat feels like there’s glass in it, his shoulders and back ache like he’s carried marble slabs all night.

It’s a uniquely human curse to question, and Taehyung isn’t human, but he immediately tries to figure out why he hurts from head to toe. Especially since he hasn’t hurt in several centuries.

He shoots a quick glance around to see what he can figure out without moving. Right away it’s clear that he is not in bed. He is on the floor, the stone cool beneath his palms. A servant is crouched near him, repeating his name but smart enough not to touch him.

He can tell, as his blurry vision clears bit by bit, that he’s definitely in the palace proper, though not in a wing he frequents. The floor beneath him is just stone - no marble, no thick carpeting - which indicates he’s not in a living-quarters wing. The walls, however, hang with vibrant tapestries and oil portraits, gilded sconces lighting the way every few feet. Most definitely still the palace.

“Why am I here?” he manages to croak.

The servant turns over his shoulder and shouts to someone, “Alert the King!”

This is the first moment that Taehyung feels alarm atop the pain. He struggles to sit up, takes stock of his surroundings. The same servant still hovers near, face pinched with something akin to fear.

How did I end up on the floor?

Not only that - he isn’t even entirely sure where in the sprawling palace he is.

When he hears approaching footsteps and recognizes the sharp, staccato clicks and clacks, he almost sags back to the floor in relief. Instead, he pushes himself to standing, a wave of dizziness sweeping over him and then ebbing just in time for him to incline his head and intone, “Mother.”

Despite the centuries that have passed since Taehyung was small, something affectionate and maternal remains in the Queen. She presses cool palms to Taehyung’s cheeks and looks him up and down. She winces at something she sees. “Darling,” she says, the word lilting in the strange accent she has, one that belongs to a language long-dead. “What were you thinking?”

It takes Taehyung a moment to articulate a response. He’s frightened - something quite new to him - and he isn’t sure the correct move to make in this situation. The fear toys with logic, makes the answer slippery, hard to grasp.

He settles on the truth. “I don’t know what happened,” he says. “I mean - I can’t remember. I don’t know how I got here.”

He doesn’t ask, did something happen. It’s obvious that something did.

He hears his father, Sunjae of Rune, King of Infracticus, long before he enters the room, his authoritative voice barking questions and orders.

“How far has word spread?”

“There was only one witness. She’s in custody.”

“Handle her and send her back,” the King snaps. “As quickly as possible. Where is my son?”

This last question is roared as he finally enters the high-ceilinged corridor where his wife and son stand.

“I’m here,” Taehyung says, needlessly.

The King sizes him up, eyes narrowed, chest puffed. “What do you have to say for yourself?” he spits finally.

Taehyung clears his throat and then ventures, “For starters… I’d really like to know what happened.”

The King’s face slides from fury to something befuddled, his hands sinking to his sides like sails in the absence of wind.

–

Taehyung’s father leads them back to their private wing and closes them into a dimly lit room that houses floor to ceiling bookshelves full of tomes so old they’d crumble to dust if you dared to touch them. A fire roars in the hearth for aesthetics only - Taehyung’s kind can’t feel cold.

He locks the door and turns to face them. Taehyung’s mother has sunk delicately onto a fainting couch, and she watches her son sharply.

Taehyung feels itchy under her gaze. She’s the smartest of the three of them, and Taehyung knows it even if his father doesn’t.

“You’re telling me,” the King growls, low, “that you don’t remember any of it?”

“I was in my wing,” Taehyung promises. “Sometime near midnight. That’s the last thing I remember, until I woke up on the floor in a random hallway -”

The King and Queen exchange a look, an entire conversation in just a glance. Then, the King heaves a deep breath, pinching the bridge of his nose between his fingers.

Then, the Queen ventures, “The Elders should see him.”

The King grumbles something under his breath.

She tries again. “He could be ill. He could be going mad. We need to know!”

“Will someone please tell me what’s happened?” Taehyung bursts out, finally unable to take it - the anxiety, the questions, the conversation about him but not involving him, all of it.

“You went rogue,” the King says dryly, his eyes on the dancing fire instead of his son.

Taehyung feels his stomach drop. “Meaning?”

“Exactly what he said,” the Queen says, something steely in her tone. “You went above, alone, and… hunted.”

Taehyung feels his legs turn to stone. His stomach twists and a wave of nausea rocks him. “I what?” he asks, but it comes out like a gasp. The sides of the room are starting to go black and he breathes slowly, one hand gripping the back of the couch.

Silence expands, filling the room. Taehyung’s stomach lurches, and he closes his eyes.

“Did… did I -?”

“You took two humans and left a third alive. We have teams cleaning up, up there, and we’ve got the spare here -”

Took two humans.

The spare.

Taehyung’s stomach twists again. The black creeping at the edge of his vision draws closer to the center. Taehyung loses sight of his father’s face in the encroaching darkness.

“Darling, we’ve covered up incidents like this countless times. No one will know. We’ll make sure.” The Queen’s voice is soothing, bringing to Taehyung’s mind all the times when he was a child when she would hurry to calm him.

Taehyung shakes his head. “That’s not what I’m concerned about.”

“You didn’t know you were doing it,” the King muses - his next problem to solve, not a placation to reassure his guilt-stricken son. “We must uncover the cause.”

“The Elders,” the Queen says again, insistently. “At least let them give him a medical once-over.”

The King sighs in defeat. “I suppose we have no choice. Wait in your rooms, Taehyung. I’ll summon the Elders at once. The sooner we find out what came over you, the better.”

—

Taehyung is in his wing when Jimin comes – uncalled, unbidden, simply as if he sensed his best friend’s distress. And perhaps he had – the Infracti have shown stranger powers before.

“I heard you had a bit of an adventure,” he says carelessly, flopping sideways along Taehyung’s favorite leather couch, feet propped on the armrest, as he has millions of times over hundreds of years.

“News travels fast,” Taehyung says bitterly.

Jimin smiles indulgently, used to his moody friend. “Not so. But they called on Seokjin to help wipe the memory of the girl who survived before they sent her back.”

Taehyung blanches. “That’s illegal.”

Jimin gives him a dirty look and a scoff to accompany it. “Please,” he says dismissively. “You can’t be that naïve, not in your position.”

The Queen’s words run back through Taehyung’s mind. We’ve covered up incidents like this countless times.

He sulks. “They shouldn’t be breaking treaty laws over me,” he grumbles.

Jimin lets out a sigh. “If rules can be bent for anyone, shouldn’t they be for you? Besides…” He sits up, looks at Taehyung more seriously. “It’s not like one of us went up there willingly, like… on purpose. If someone decided to just fuck the protection laws and go hunting, I’d obviously object to a cover-up. But that isn’t the case here. Something happened to you. They’re not covering up a crime, they’re recovering from an accident.”

An accident. He’d killed two innocent people. Nearly killed a third.

Taehyung drops onto a chair near Jimin’s feet, covering his face with his hands. “Truly,” he says hollowly, the words muffled by his palms, “I have never in over six hundred years felt this deeply guilty about something. Jimin, I killed people. Me. I did that.”

It’s an understatement. There aren’t words – not in any language, dead or alive – to describe the deep, crawling self-hatred Taehyung feels. There’s no phrase for the twist and ache in his stomach when he pictures the scene above-ground – bodies limp on the ground, the echo of screams from the survivor floating away into the uncaring night, blood thick and metallic on his tongue, a wild flash in his eyes.

Jimin shakes his head, lips protruding in a pronounced pout. “It wasn’t you. We all know that.”

“Those people are dead and the fault is only my own,” Taehyung says firmly.

“You weren’t yourself,” Jimin insists. “What did the Elders say?”

The Elders are terrifying, is Taehyung’s take-away. His own father is thousands of years old, and looks like a child in comparison. Infracti are not immortal; rather, under the right circumstances - and often with the help of the magic they can control - they can live for tens of thousands of years. The oldest Infracti that Taehyung knows - not counting the Elders, as he doesn’t know them - is around thirty thousand years old, and weaker every day. The Elders, whose ages Taehyung doesn’t actually know, seem so fragile they might be made of dust, particles held together by magic and force of will. He’d showered three times after leaving them just to get the icky shudders to stop.

“That I’m not ill and I’m not mad,” Taehyung recites dryly, finally removing his hands from his face.

“Which leaves what possibilities?” Jimin asks with a frown.

Taehyung shrugs. “They’re meeting about it right now. I’ve been told to stay in my own wing.”

Jimin squawks. “For how long?”

“Until they’re sure it won’t happen again, I suppose,” Taehyung guesses with a small shrug. “Or until they’ve come up with an answer.”

“Lovely,” Jimin quips sarcastically, and moves to rise. “Well, I’ll check in on you later this evening. I’m sure you’ll be bored, cooped up in here.”

“I’d rather be bored than -”

“I know.” Something new creeps into Jimin’s voice – some kindness, some understanding. “It wasn’t your fault, Taehyung. You didn’t do it on purpose.”

Taehyung gives him a nod and sees him out, his stomach twisting and roiling. Only one of those things, he knows, is true.

Sunlight and fresh air assault you as you make your way slowly down the city block, the messenger bag around your body laden with thick books and hastily scribbled notes. The ache in your shoulder from carrying it has been part of your existence for so long that you barely notice it anymore.

You pass a bank and glance at the screen displaying today’s date and temperature, followed by the time. It indicates that you’ve somehow ended up here between buses. You’ll have to wait a bit for the next one.

At least it’s nice out, you think, and settle onto a bench just across from your bus stop. It backs up to a park, and you watch as people bustle by, most of them glued to their phone screens or carrying on conversations into their earpods. In the park, a group of kids is playing loudly, shouts and shrieks rising towards the cloudless blue sky.

“Songie’s team, you’re the Runes!” someone shouts, and it grabs your attention. You smile, watching them gather and form groups.

“It’s not Runes,” someone corrects snottily. “It’s Ruins.”

Actually, you think, hiding a little smile, the proper pronunciation of the powerful Infraci family falls somewhere between the two words.

The ancient language of Infracticus has phonics that most modern people struggle with. As a result, there tends to be two schools of thought regarding pronunciation. Commonly, the families are called the Runes, the Cleaves, and the Scores. At the university that you’d attended, at which you now work, they’d taught you Ruins, Leaves, and Scorns.

But it’s all the same, really.

You watch the game for some time. It’s a lot like freeze tag, and you remember playing it in the schoolyard as a kid. Teams – one Runes and one Scores – try to cross a field past each other without getting tagged and frozen. Teams had elected members called Cleaves, who were the only players who could unfreeze another.

It’s funny, you’ve always thought, how the actual history of the three Infracti families translated into the rules of the children’s game. To be historically accurate, it should have been three teams – Cleaves wouldn’t be members of Runes or Scores but their own faction altogether.

However, you do wonder if their ability to unfreeze players is derived from the Cleaves’ ability to heal, something the other two bloodlines have never possessed.

And is it coincidence that the game became the Runes versus the Scores, when those two families had a particularly ugly blood feud, millennia ago?

All three families have vied for power at one point or another – most known history of the Infacti includes this never-ending power struggle. But the Runes have managed to hold court since the time the protection laws were passed, the ones that both protect humans from being hunted and bans those same humans from doing the hunting. The ones that decree quarterly blood donations from every adult human to ensure there’s never a shortage that could lead to hunting. The ones that declare the monarchy follows only the Runes’ royal bloodline.

Hunting - both of and by Infracti - still happens, of course. There’s no such thing as utopia. But at least now there are consequences when an Infracti attacks a human, and consequences when humans turn to violence to drive Infracti out of their communities.

Questions like this, constant curiosity about the Infracti culture and history, had carried you through dual degrees studying the history and sociology of the Infracti. Now, after nearly a decade of your adult years spent in academics, you tote multiple degrees, including extensive experience with both curses and counter-curses.

Your family hates it - never understood it. Your mother has called it an obsession time and time again. But neither she nor your father can argue with the career opportunities in academia that you’ve been afforded, now that you’re full-time staff at the university.

And they don’t even know about the other opportunities that keep falling at your feet: more and more curse-breaking cases as the years pass. The more your reputation and success rate grow, the more your name seems to be passed around. You think your mother would faint on the spot if she knew that only two months ago your team had flown into deep Brazilian jungle and helped them to cast the counter-curse that freed an entire village from unending rain.

When the bus finally pulls in, bringing with it a warm breeze and the smell of gasoline, you rise, hefting your bag higher on your shoulder and searching for a seat. It’s about twenty minutes to campus unless you catch an Express – and you have no such luck today.

Your phone rings in your pocket as you sit, and you shift in your seat until you can slide it free. Your boss’s name floats across the top of the screen and you answer it quickly.

“Are you on campus yet?” he asks in lieu of hello. Dr. Kim - the department head at the university where you teach - is nearing seventy, but he’s the leading curse-breaker on the eastern coast and you find it unlikely that he’ll slow down anytime soon. He was one of your first professors when you showed up here as a bright-eyed undergrad, years ago.

“Twenty minutes out,” you report. “I’m on the bus.”

“Come directly to my office,” he requests, but you can hear the urgency dancing in his tone. You know what this means: he’s been contacted about a curse.

“I have a class at ten thirty,” you warn him. “I don’t have a lot of time.”

“It won’t take long,” he promises, and you agree to stop by before ending the call and turning your attention back to the bus window.

It’s somehow chillier when the bus drops you on campus, cloud cover removing the warmth of the sun as you hustle down one of the paved walkways towards the academic buildings, dodging students standing in groups talking, others riding bicycles and the rare electric scooter.

You hurry into the building that houses most of the staff offices, bypassing the corridors the students frequent and taking the narrow back staircase that leads to Dr. Kim’s office.

He’s waiting for you, door open, a spread of papers on his desk.

You greet him with a smile, dropping your heavy bag by his door as you have hundreds of times in your professional history. Dr. Kim was one of your first undergrad professors, years ago, and you’ve worked closely with him in all the years since: first, as a TA for his tougher classes, then co-teaching when the university took you on, and finally joining his team of curse-breakers, rapidly bypassing several team members who had more seniority but less knack.

“We got a call?” you guess, drawing closer to the papers and peering at them for clues. That’s when you notice the young man already seated in one of the two chairs across from Dr. Kim’s desk. Embarrassed, you hurry to nod hello to him, murmuring an apology. He has dark hair, sculpted cheekbones, razor-sharp eyes, and - you notice when he smiles in greeting - a deep dimple on each side.

The expression on Dr. Kim’s face is a little strange - almost like he’s nervous to give you the news. You can’t imagine what might be giving him pause, considering your last meeting like this had landed you both in a literal rainforest. Could he have gotten a request for the team to go somewhere even more remote than that?

“We did,” he allows with a tight little nod. “It’s… a bit unorthodox, though. I’d like you to consider the situation carefully.”

You feel yourself frown. “What is it?”

He sighs, then nods towards his door. “Will you close that, please?”

You reach behind you and gently press the wooden door shut, feeling flutters of uncertainty for the first time in your career. The stranger shifts in his chair uneasily.

“Perhaps you should sit,” Dr. Kim suggests, holding a hand towards the empty chair opposite his desk.

This isn’t how these meetings go. You’ve done this a dozen times or more - usually as soon as Dr. Kim can see your face he starts chattering excitedly about the details: who’s been cursed, what the effects are, the specifics of the location, the bits of travel itinerary he’s already worked out.

You sit hesitantly, hands gripping the arms of the chair nervously. You try hard not to glance sideways at the man you don’t know.

“Well?” you prompt, when Dr. Kim still doesn’t speak.

“This is Namjoon,” Dr. Kim says, belatedly realizing he hasn’t introduced you. “His degrees all focus on curses. A comparable background to yours, academically.”

“That’s not true,” Namjoon says, holding up a hand. “I didn’t study Infracticus. My magical knowledge is focused solely on curses and curse-breaking.”

Dr. Kim makes a noise like he doesn’t quite agree with this. “Anyway,” he says to you, “I personally asked Namjoon to make the trip and hear the request. I think he’ll be invaluable in picking this one apart.”

“Okay,” you agree easily. You trust Dr. Kim with your life - literally - and if he thinks someone will be an asset to the team, you’d never argue with that. You turn sideways just a bit and murmur an it’s nice to meet you before turning your attention back to your (normally) fearless leader. “So what are we in for?”

He sighs and runs a hand down his face, almost as if he’s unsure if he should tell you or not. “You need to know right from the start how very dangerous this could be,” he says, looking back and forth between the two of you, his voice more grave than you’ve ever heard it.

“Because of the magic involved?” you ask. Curse-breaking is always dangerous, that’s the very nature of it. You always run the risk of making a fatal mistake; you could turn the curse back on yourself, or strengthen it, or simply end up creating side-effects you hadn’t intended. He’s never given you this warning before.

He shakes his head. “Not necessarily. Not more so than any other. It’s… well, my dear, it will involve a stay in Infracticus.”

You’re shocked into silence. You can’t help but meet Namjoon’s eyes, sideways, and find him looking just as surprised as you. You utter, quietly, “What?” even though you heard and understood him perfectly well. It’s more than you need help processing, facing the reality of the words. “An Infracti has been cursed?”

He shakes his head, though the answer isn’t no. “Not just any Infracti,” he corrects. “The Prince of Ruin.”

Your jaw literally drops. “Someone cursed the crown prince?” you gasp in disbelief. “Who would dare?”

“The Scorns, I imagine,” Namjoon murmurs, almost to himself.

Dr. Kim gives you two a wan smile. “Luckily, we aren’t tasked with solving that. Just finding and casting the counter-curse.”

You sit back in your chair in a daze, blinking slowly, cogs in your mind whirring fast. “Okay,” you say finally. “We’d be protected, though, right? They’re inviting the team, so they’d make sure we were safe?”

Dr. Kim seems to look far-away for a moment, contemplating his answer. You shift nervously, glancing sideways at Namjoon. You would have been reassured by a quick answer - the fact that he needs to formulate a response does nothing to quell your unease.

“I trust we are being invited there for the reasons they say,” he allows. “And so, I do believe the royal family will want us to be safe, yes. But the fact still remains that we will be humans walking around Infracticus. I’m sure we will be given guards - the question becomes, can we trust those guards completely? I fear I cannot say for sure.”

“It’s like walking into the lions’ den,” Namjoon murmurs beside you.

“Quite,” Dr. Kim agrees, nodding.

“Except there’s an injured lion and only we can fix it,” you point out.

“We can’t rely on that to ensure our safety,” Dr. Kim says, frowning more deeply. “It’s a delicate situation. The royal family cannot let it get out that the prince’s well-being has been… compromised.”

Namjoon frowns in confusion. “Why not?”

You think you understand. You venture, “To admit weakness, to admit to having been successfully attacked, to admit that the crown prince is cursed - it would be an open invitation for rebellion.”

“Yes,” Dr. Kim confirms, inclining his head, his white tufts of hair moving breezily. “The Infracti respect the laws that are currently in place, but the crown prince is the last member of the Ruin bloodline. If he were to die, or to be unfit to lead…”

“There’s nothing in the laws about who would rule next,” you finish for him, eyes wide. “It would be…”

“A war for the throne, I imagine.”

You sit in silence for a moment under the weight of this. Then, Namjoon says carefully, “I’m sorry, but can we circle back? The prince’s curse has to be secret, I got that - but how does that affect the safety of our team?”

“We’ll be hosted in the palace as honored guests,” Dr. Kim tells you both. “But no one beyond the royal family will know why. They don’t know that if they slipped up and harmed us, it would harm the prince, too. We can’t assume our purpose will serve as protection. Any Infracti beyond the royal family should be considered a threat.”

You let out a disbelieving laugh, turning to face Namjoon. He looks just as bamboozled as you feel, validating your reaction.

“This is wild,” you utter, mostly to yourself. “This is absolutely bonkers.”

“This is why I said you need to consider carefully,” Dr. Kim insists. “There is much at stake. You’re in danger every moment you’re down there, even with the promised protection. The curse itself must be complicated, or they’d have solved it themselves. If your reason for being there is uncovered due to a fault of our own, we’ll be facing the wrath of the royal family. And I… I’m afraid I won't be able to join you.”

“What? No - you have to,” you blurt, panicked. “I can’t do it without you - you’ve decades of experience over me - I’ve never led a case before!”

“They don’t want me,” he tries to explain. “They don’t want any possibility that someone will figure out who I am and put the pieces together. A simple inquiry of my name blows the whole thing - the first thing they’d find is curse-breaker. As I said - the secrecy of the prince’s condition is vital.”

You scoff. “So they want me because I’m nobody.”

He looks at you kindly, used to your moods. “They want you because you have a high success rate. Your ability to stay… lowkey, as the kids say -”

Namjoon makes a choked sound like he’s fighting a laugh.

“- you should see it as an asset.”

“I don’t want to go without you,” you say, because it’s true. Because it feels safer to have someone older, wiser, with more experience. Because it feels like less responsibility to not be the person in charge. Because it’s what you’re used to, and you cling to the familiar.

He shakes his head sadly. “The royal family will not allow it. I’m sorry.”

You lapse into silence again.

Namjoon speaks slowly, as if a new thought is dawning on him, and he doesn’t like it. “If they suspect the Scorns…”

Your stomach sinks.

Dr. Kim nods. “I imagine you may see the beginnings of some political unrest if an accusation is made.”

“Forget the accusation,” Namjoon says hollowly. “If we uncover that it was a Scorn attack… we’ll be walking into Infracti civil war.”

“Will it be that bad?” you ask, frowning, pulse quickening.

Namjoon shrugs. “The Ruins and the Scorns would each love a reason to point the finger at the other. If we do happen across the cause of the curse as we try to break it… it’s likely there will be political ramifications.”

“God,” you mutter.

“As I said,” Dr. Kim repeats. “I won’t accept an answer today. I want you both to sleep on it. Discuss with your families.” (You snort at this. As if you ever would.) “Talk to me tomorrow about how you’re feeling.”

He dismisses you then, shepherding you both towards his door, leaving it open now that you’re done discussing the equivalent of vampire state secrets.

Halfway down the stairs, Namjoon calls your name. Ahead of him, you pause, turn, and let him catch up to you.

“Can we exchange information?” he asks, digging in his wallet. He finally hands you a business card, and you do the same, hoping you have one tucked behind a credit card or something.

“I’d like to talk to you about this, later, if you have time,” he says, a bit sheepishly. “I’m… not feeling very sure about it.”

“Okay,” you say easily, glancing at the time - you’ve got seven minutes to get across campus to teach your first class. “Do you want to grab a bite later? Your number’s on here?” You wiggle the business card, and he nods. “I’ll text you,” you promise, and start down the steps again, mind racing.

thank you for reading! i hope you liked this first installment! chapter 2 will go up next friday!!! <3

#fic: of ruins #daechwitatamic #kim taehyung fic #kim taehyung fanfic #taehyung fics #kim taehyung x reader #taehyung x reader

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liveyun · 29 days ago

Text

sweetest thing | k.th 🎃

title. sweetest thing

pairing. kim taehyung x reader

genre. halloween au , fantasy au, baker au, friends to lovers (?)

wc. 1.9k

warnings. vampire!tae , human!reader, halloween night !! mentions of supernatural beings and co-existence with humans, baking stuff heehee, very light angst if you squint very hard, fluff, tatamic cameo, our taetae 🐻

main masterlist | taglist 🥮

Eat, drink, and be scary.

In your case, there was a small addition — bake. And god damn, it was a hell of a busy night, your small bakery feeling a bit smaller than usual with the amount of people flooding in with costumes bigger than themselves, faces painted with creativity of the night and hands full of treats to hand away.

It was Halloween.

It felt like the one night the world let its boundaries fade, letting all kinds of beings drift seamlessly among the neighborhood — changing the otherwise cold air of the town to a bit warmer feel. Beneath foggy street lights, creatures of every kind — witches with flickering, real candlelight in their eyes, goblins in patched-up scarves, vampires with their scarlet irises, hybrids who usually preferred to stay in their own colonies or even werewolves with their massive bodies — blended seamlessly among the crowd — are mingling with humans.

You watch, enchanted by it all.

Halloween is something you’d only heard gossips of previously — a night where reality softened itself, allowing creatures and humans to celebrate together. It’s mesmerizing, truly, to see ghouls and fairies roam, joining in the strange joy of humans’ games, even if some seem to find the idea of tricks and treats amusingly silly.

Yet, tonight, they all play along, indulging in the world of Halloween, and you feel something childlike stirring in your chest, a thrill just to be a part of it, even if you’re not necessarily trying to trick people with candies or so.

You’re content to be within the smell of sourdough baking up in the oven.

Outside, laughter rises as trick-or-treaters fill the sidewalks, while your bakery hums with activity as people and beings of all kinds come in for a taste of Halloween magic. Inside, you’re shoulder-to-shoulder with Taehyung, who, if not for the slight glimmer in his gaze, a golden rim circling his pupils, would seem almost too human.

The apron wrapped around him is decorated with little ghosts and bats, and under it, he wears simple clothes that only highlight his warm, honey-toned skin with that soft, dark hair curling boyishly around his face.

Honestly, he looks like anyone else on a Halloween evening, blending so easily that his vampiric nature might be overlooked altogether.

Except for you, of course.

However, tonight, even time falls short on you. The counters are a mess of bowls, cookie cutters, and ghost-shaped éclairs. Dark berry syrups bubble in pots, rich and fragrant, mingling with the scents of cinnamon and nutmeg.

And while Taehyung tends to the syrups, you’re focused on decorating the cookies and piping frosting on pumpkin cupcakes, hands moving quickly to keep up with the demand as customers in costumes drift in and out, some pausing to snap photos of the treats or chat about their plans for the night.

And somehow, it feels that you two are not enough tonight.

Taehyung is busy preparing every sauce and filling — poor fellow is trying his best despite his strong dislike towards the particular “pungent” smell of vanilla (his exact words, not yours) and you can tell by the way how often his nostrils flare down or scrunch when the crowd of your bakery gets too overwhelming.

Shit. You’d nearly forgotten about the chocolate melting over the double boiler!

Initially you were a bit surprised — the bread which you just got an order for, usually is a top seller when the weather calls for hot chocolate and itchy sweaters. You’re running to the counter opposite yours to grab the fresh batch of Hoska when you feel his oddly warm, cool touch on your wrist — Taehyung’s voice finding you, calm yet laced with a quiet curiosity. “Try this,” he says, offering a spoon of dark, vicious looking syrup.

You think it’s kind of sweet because he blows over the spoon gently before offering it to you.

His eyes, dark as the night outside, are fixed on you, watching as you taste the syrup.

You lick the spoon thoughtfully.

It’s rich, sweet, with just a hint of something darker underneath — like the tartness of fresh raspberries.

“It’s sweet,” you hum, licking your lips as you hand him the spoon back. Ah, the bread!

“How sweet?” he asks, his voice soft against the background noise.

You look around, your eyes finding your customers still waiting. They are on your phone as of now, giggling over something. You shouldn’t keep them waiting. “This sweet,” pressing a soft, quick peck to his cheek as you murmur with a smile, not missing the way his eyes widen slightly.

You don’t need to turn to see his reaction; the faint pause says enough.

It’s there in the brief stillness, in the way his hand hovers just a moment too long before he continues stirring.

After a beat, you hear the faintest sound — a small, disbelieving chuckle, soft and unsure, just as rich as the syrup. “That. . . that was. . . ” he trails off, words just a little slower than usual, cheeks flushed even when his body, you know, doesn’t truly circulate blood.

Your order sweeps you back before he can react further as you turn toward the waiting group of teenagers who’ve been watching from a nearby table, their faces alight with barely-contained laughter. You give them a small smile and nod as they bark out their joy, high-fiving.

The group leaves with fresh bread and happy faces.

You turn back to Taehyung who seems to be a bit too concentrated in stirring the syrup which he’s been doing since ten minutes. “That was a dare,” you tell him, trying to stifle the laugh which threatens to bubble up your throat.

There’s a small shift in his expression.

So slight that you might’ve missed it if you weren’t paying attention. The smile on his lips fades a fraction, replaced with a look you don’t often see from him — a pout which has his lips jutting out, a sight so adorable that it pulls at something inside you.

“So. . . . you didn’t mean it?” he murmurs, eyes lowering as he turns away, almost as if he’s shy.

And there it is — that softness, a note in his voice you hadn’t expected, something almost tender, scared. His question lingers in the air, hanging on to a thread you’re not quite ready to pull.

Did it have to be this specific moment where there are no customers barging in anymore. . . ?

“Would you . . . would you . . . . mind if I did ?” The words slip out, your heart beating a little faster as his gaze meets yours, steady yet gentle, pulling you closer without even trying.

His eyes flicker to your lips before finding your gaze again, and for a moment, the world beyond the bakery fades into nothing. He leans just a little closer as his tongue darts out to wet his lips, voice low enough that only you can hear.

“Well,” he murmurs, lips curving up in that familiar, lazy smile that oddly resembles something in between a box and a smirk. “you might just have to find out.”

And when you feel his arms cage you in between the counter, you think maybe — just maybe — this is the sweetest thing of all.

a/n : happy halloween!! 🎃 i live in an area where halloween is barely known, let alone celebrated. so it’s always going to be a fascinating to me ! while i saw my oomfs online dressing up as characters, i was busy lighting up earthen lamps xD i hope you enjoyed this smol baby and as always, your feedback means a lot to me ! here’s an anonymous feedback box for you just in case 🍁

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jimxnslight · 6 months ago

Text

Fool's Gold || Part I

Summary: Sweet Y/N, with her fluffy pastel dresses, soft makeup, and ditzy mannerisms. She’s seen as a fool in a world where there is no place for such things, but little do they know, the only fools are them.

Pairing: mafia leader!Jungkook x mafia leader's daughter!reader

Genre: mafia au, arranged marriage au

Word Count: 10k

Warnings: most warnings associated with mafia fics (e.g. violence, blood, etc), additional warnings might be added as the story progresses

<< masterlist || next part >>

“I heard that she’s a complete airhead.”

Jungkook’s expensive shoes smacked against the pristine white and gold marble floors as he continued to walk through the lavish hallway, hands disappearing behind his pockets while his steps were slow and confident. Most would think he was choosing to ignore the comment, but his closest friend knew better than to rush a man as calculating as Jungkook.

Instead, Taehyung strolled alongside him, taking in the glittering chandeliers looming over their heads and the intricate designs carved into the white walls that were much too traditional for his taste. Jungkook and Taehyung were nowhere near out of place in the sea of extravagance with their custom suits and shiny black dress shoes. Taehyung, the more simple of the two, had his brown hair parted and pushed back to reveal a blemish free forehead while his grey and black suit complimented the grey specks in his brown irises.

On the other hand, Jungkook’s black on black outfit adorned two expensive cufflinks and a gold brooch attached to his lapel. Taehyung’s gaze dropped to his black hair, which he noticed had grown in the past month.

When Taehyung realised that Jungkook wasn’t going to speak, he decided to fill the silence.

“Like apparently she’s huge on wearing pink and frilly stuff -which I guess is just a girl thing- but still, this is a mafia not a tea party.”

He paused, waiting for his comrade to offer his thoughts, but was met with silence once again.

“I’ve also heard she’s dumber than a pile of rocks. Barely passed high school and then dropped out of university not even a month in. Her major wasn’t even that hard. Commerce, was it?”

Taehyung’s eyebrows furrowed as Jungkook continued to lengthen the silence.

“And as you already must know, she was also married about a year ago but then was widowed after her husband was killed by a rival gang on the same day. Even though their marriage didn’t even last a full 24 hours, she had been so traumatised by the whole thing that apparently she didn’t even speak for an entire month after the ordeal. Can you imagine how much of a princess she must be for a simple death to shake her that much? She must be a real- come on man, how long are you going to make me go on?”

Jungkook turned his head to offer him a sly grin, “I was wondering when you would reach your limit.”

Taehyung gave him a halfhearted punch to the arm, “you’re such a jerk. Answer my question man. I’m dying to know what she’s actually like.”

He followed Jungkook as he turned into another hallway, curious as to what he thought of her, but his answer had him staring at Jungkook incredulously.

“I don’t know.”

Taehyung faltered in his step, gaping at the back of the man who continued through the hallway nonchalantly. When the weight of his answer finally processed completely in Taehyung’s mind, he ran forward so that he could walk alongside his friend once again.

“I think you misunderstood my question,” Taehyung tried again slowly, “I want to know about Lee Y/N, you know, your soon to be wife? The one you’re about to marry right now?”

“What is there to know?” Jungkook commented, mind occupied with a topic of much more importance, “a marriage with her will allow for the unification of two powerful mafia families and will also allow for an heir to be born. Is that not the whole point of marriages for individuals like us?”

“Well yeah, but there’s no harm in getting to know her at least a little bit. Did you even hear about the ‘dumb as rocks’ part when I was rambling?”

“That will only make her easier to control,” he deadpanned.

“Fine, whatever. Is she at least pretty?”

Taehyung’s eyes widened even more when Jungkook didn’t respond, “please tell me you’ve met her at least once. Oh my god, have you even looked at a picture of her?”

Jungkook's silence was all Taehyung needed to know that the answer was, in fact, no,” I knew I shouldn’t have gone out of the country! My parents kept telling me everything would be fine and they’d take care of the whole thing but you haven’t even met her once? I should’ve made my return flight earlier, then I could’ve-”

Taehyung’s voice faltered as he noticed Jungkook’s distant expression, causing his brows to furrow. He wasn’t listening to a word he was saying, which wasn’t something entirely out of the ordinary, but it usually wasn’t this bad. He sighed as he shifted his gaze to the expensive hall before him.

“Is this about the Parks?” He asked, noticing his friend’s focus return.

“It’s the Parks and the Mins,” Jungkook admitted, “ever since their alliance, they’ve been getting bold. They made a move on our West docks last week and would have been successful in seizing them if it weren’t for the blackmail I managed to procure at the last minute. But that won’t hold them off for long.”

Taehyung’s head tilted to the side, “you’ve always enjoyed a challenge. Why’s this bothering you so much?”

Jungkook turned into another hallway to finally come face to face with a large pair of grandiose double doors that towered over them. The two men came to a stop, aware that their conversation was now on a timer.

“I just… have an uneasy feeling,” he said, unable to reveal anymore to Taehyung. He couldn’t bring himself to tell his best friend what he had really witnessed when he visited the docks yesterday.

Taehyung, clueless to Jungkook’s inner turmoil, slapped him on the back, lightening the mood with a grin, “come on man, this is your wedding. You’ll figure everything out later, for now just relax. You deserve it.”

Before he could protest, Taehyung shoved the double doors open to reveal an enormous and crowded wedding hall. The white and gold marble floor stretched across the entire room, while multiple diamonds came together to form a giant chandelier that hung over the hundreds of tables that had been decorated with shiny silverware and pristine white roses. The people were just as decorated as the furniture, with their elegant gowns and glamorous jewellery.

At the sound of the doors opening, the once chattering crowd silenced, opting to sneak glances at Jungkook and his friend instead. Hushed whispers echoed around the hall as Jungkook straightened his back and held his head high before making his way to the centre of the room. Behind him, Taehyung took his place, his outgoing and extroverted personality tucked away to look just as regal and intimidating as the groom. The crowd began gathering on either side of the aisle, clearly excited for the bride who had been scheduled to appear any second now.

Most men’s hearts would be racing during a time like this, Jungkook thought distantly, eyes focused on the aisle as well. Marriage to others was supposed to symbolise unwavering love and devotion. But not for him. For him marriage was simply a contract, a means to an end that he hoped would lessen the burden of a number of challenges. In a world like this, there was no such thing as love.

Only power.

The sound of the double doors opening pulled him from his thoughts, with two professionally dressed workers fixing them on either side so that they remained open this time. Jungkook watched a pair of women in what seemed like light pink bridesmaid dresses trail behind two girls who couldn’t have been more than five throwing white and light pink flower petals in the air. Behind the entourage was a figure drenched in white.

You walked slowly into the room, your glimmering white dress trailing behind you as a thick white veil draped over your face and the front of your dress. Jungkook could only make out your hands clutching a small bouquet of white roses while your arm looped around your father’s, who was slowly guiding you down the aisle. Despite the aid, he couldn’t help but notice an uneasiness to your steps and a slight shake in your hands.

The crowd’s gaze stayed fixed on your figure, drinking in the Jeon Jungkook’s soon to be wife. There were some gasps of astonishment at the beauty of your dress and figure, while there were some gasps of jealousy towards the woman who was taking Jungkook off the market. You didn’t seem to pay them any attention as your head stayed fixed in front of you, focusing on not falling as you continued through the aisle.

To Jungkook, it felt like years had passed before you finally reached the small steps leading to the stage he was standing on, your bridesmaids taking their places on the opposite side of where Taehyung was standing. Your father unlooped his arm from yours and stepped back to sit on one of the seats that had been reserved for him, leaving you to hesitantly step onto the stage yourself. Your heel wobbled as you brought your foot forward and Jungkook knew exactly what would happen before it did.

He watched your heel slip sideways, causing you to careen to your right under the heaviness of your dress. But before you could crash into the large pots of white roses, Jungkook shot forward so that his hand could grab your waist, hoisting you up to prevent you from falling. The crowd swooned at the gesture, murmuring about its romantic nature, though all Jungkook could wonder was how you’ve been surviving in a mafia family for so long. Taehyung had only said you were dumb, not a complete klutz too.

He could feel the warmth of your delicate hand on his shoulder as he guided you up the steps, only letting go of you once the two of you were facing the patiently waiting priest. Once he had motioned for everyone to sit, he began his sermon in an obnoxiously boring voice. Jungkook had no particular interest in paying attention to a speech he had listened to multiple times growing up. Instead, he took the chance to survey you briefly. With your veil still hiding your face, he could only take in your perfect figure and pristine skin.

Eventually, the priest asked you to remove your veil, to which you complied slowly. Taehyung came forward, offering to take the bouquet in your hands while your bridesmaids helped you hesitantly lift the soft white cloth over your head.

A wave of hushed whispers spread throughout the crowd at the sight of your face, one that caught Jungkook off guard. Your eyes had been lined with a light liner, while your lips and cheeks had been made to look dainty. Your hair fell from the top of your head to your shoulders, styled in a way that framed your features and neck. Jungkook noticed a small silver necklace in the shape of a heart resting against your exposed collarbone.

Your makeup made you look so innocent and… young. Jungkook almost wanted to pull Taehyung’s parents aside and confirm that you really were twenty three and not some nineteen year old. It was a bit of a turn off, he realised, slightly bothered by the fact. As a twenty six year old, he obviously wasn’t into teenagers, so he didn’t know what having a wife that looked like one was going to do for him.

Then again, he wasn’t marrying you for some kind of gratification. He was marrying you because he needed to form a strong alliance between your father’s gang and his so that he could be, or at the very least appear, stronger than the Mins and Parks. You were nothing more than a path to more power and, aside from upholding his responsibilities as a husband, he would treat you as such.

As the priest continued to drone on, Jungkook continued to analyse your form. He watched your eyes stay focused on the priest before they strayed, hesitantly landing on Jungkook for a split second. When you noticed his gaze already on you, a small squeak sounded from your lips before you quickly shifted your focus forward. With the bouquet of flowers now hanging from Taehyung’s hand, your own fingers were clasped awkwardly in front of you.

You were apparently everything Taehyung had painted you as earlier, Jungkook thought. Your makeup and mannerisms had an air of exaggerated innocence, while your body language was shy and sheepish. He had no problem imagining you as a weak girl that was so traumatised by the death of your first husband that you couldn’t utter a single word the following month.

The priest turned to the seated crowd, beckoning anyone that had an issue with the marriage to step forward and speak their mind. Just as Jungkook expected, no one dared make a stand, preferring to cherish the connection between their head and neck instead. Following the silence, you and Jungkook were made to stand facing each other.

Your gaze was fixed on his collar, seemingly too shy to meet Jungkook’s eyes. It only confirmed his suspicions regarding your confidence, or lack thereof.

Yet, despite your evidently timid nature and lack of intelligence, Jungkook couldn’t help but experience an uncanny feeling lingering at the back of his mind. Perhaps it was his untrusting nature, or maybe he had just been forced to over analyse you during the long and boring sermon. But he could have sworn that there was something about you. Just… something about the way you had trouble meeting his gaze yet seemed to have no problem in scanning Taehyung up and down. For a fraction of a moment, the look in your eyes was almost calculated, as if you had been assessing him. But just as fast as Jungkook thought he saw it, the look disappeared, replaced by a timid and shy gaze once again. It left him questioning whether he had even seen it in the first place, or whether he was letting paranoia see things that weren’t there.

Finally, the priest turned to the two of you and made you both say your vows outloud. They were the standard vows, Jungkook and you putting no effort in creating a confession that you both knew was ingenuine. Instead, the two of you repeated after him, answering “I do” when the time was right. Jungkook was glad that, despite your seemingly ditzy nature, you hadn’t requested any giant romantic gestures. According to your father, you had even had no problem with Jungkook requesting that there be no kiss at the altar. It made his life a lot easier and truthfully made this entire situation a lot less awkward.

To Jungkook’s relief, the priest finally addressed the crowd once more, ending the sermon on a final note filled with hope and prosperity. He spoke about how the marriage would strengthen the two mafias, mitigating worries relating to attacks from enemies that may wish to harm them. Jungkook had already expected this part of the speech, as he had been the one to tell the priest to say those exact words.

At the end of the sermon, Jungkook and you were made to walk down the aisle back to where he knew his expensive car was waiting. He turned to you, looping his arm around yours so that you wouldn’t fall again, and guided you down the steps slowly. He noticed that your every step was still wobbly and he could feel your hand shaking as you placed it on his bicep to steady yourself further. But this time, with the veil now draped behind you, he could see the distress in your face as well. Your eyes were wide as you took in the crowd surrounding you, looking as naive as Taehyung had made you out to be.

Jungkook tried to remind himself of Taehyung’s words. About how you had barely been able to pass high school and then completely dropped out of university a month in. About how your style consisted of pink and frilly clothes that didn’t have much place in the mafia. About how, at this moment, you seemed almost scared of the crowd and attention.

A girl like that was shy and naive and ditzy. Aside from being slightly irritating, that meant you couldn’t be much of a threat to him or anyone else. If anything your incompetence would be a threat to your own self. Jungkook had nothing to worry about when it came to you.

So he tried not to be unsettled.

He tried not to be unsettled by the fact that, despite your apparently innocent and weak nature, your fingers were gripping into his bicep so hard he would no doubt wake up with a bruise tomorrow morning.

He tried not to be unsettled by the way your shy gaze, which stayed fixed on the floor, would sometimes stray upwards to almost study the crowd around you before quickly darting back to the ground.

He tried not to be unsettled when you looked up at him to give him a bashful smile, one that the logical part of him agreed looked sweet and innocent enough.

Yet, why did another part of him wonder whether there had been something else lurking behind those seemingly innocent eyes?

The only thing that Jungkook had learned about you from the car ride was that your voice was as light and soft as your appearance.

The ride in his black car decorated with gleaming small white roses and ribbons had been mostly silent, the two of you making no effort to start a conversation. Jungkook had never been one for small talk, more than content to let Taehyung talk for hours instead. The reason for your lack of conversation, though, was unknown to him.

It was only when he was speeding through the highway that you had spoken to request that he slow down a bit. Your voice had been soft and timid, as if you were scared that Jungkook would lash out at you for the simple request. Or maybe that was just the way you spoke. Considering your personality, Jungkook wouldn’t find that too hard to believe.

Now the two of you walked through the entrance of his home, your eyes taking in the grandeur of it all. Despite its vastness, Jungkook felt that this was where he felt the most comfortable: between the white and fawn walls, the elaborately designed bannisters, and the creme marble floors. His home had remained the only constant in his life and, because of that, he cherished it immensely.

There were only a few people that Jungkook had allowed inside, all of whom were people that he trusted with his life. This was the first time, he realised, that someone outside of those few was stepping foot onto the marble floor and laying their eyes on the spiralling staircase. It was an odd feeling, allowing you to enter into what he felt was the only place that truly allowed his mind and body to relax.

He observed your reaction curiously, taking in your wide eyes. They bounced from one thing to the next, each structure seeming to fascinate you more and more. He still couldn’t shake off the feeling that you were assessing the space, but the logical part of him kept trying to reassure himself that you couldn’t possibly be considered any kind of threat.

The sound of the door opening behind him pulled him from his thoughts. He turned around to find Taehyung walking through the doorway, a particular look on his face. Jungkook recognised it right away, causing him to turn to you for a moment while calling over one of the maids.

“Get her to the bedroom,” Jungkook commanded the maid as Taehyung stepped beside him, “and help her take off her makeup and dress into something comfortable.”

The maid nodded before she began to guide you up the flight of stairs, pointing out a few directions here and there to get you comfortable with the new environment. Jungkook watched you look back at him and Taehyung for a split second, an unreadable look in your eyes, before you faced forward once again and allowed yourself to be dragged away wordlessly.

Once you had disappeared up the stairs, Jungkook turned to Taehyung with a raised eyebrow.

“Well?” He prodded.

Taehyung glanced at the top of the stairs to make sure you really were gone, “I should be asking you that. What do you think of her?”

Jungkook mulled over his question for a moment, “she seems to be everything you said she is. Although, are you sure-”

“She is one hundred percent twenty three years old. I triple checked that one,” Taehyung said immediately, hands up in a gesture of surrender.

Jungkook let his hands nestle into his pockets, wondering if he should bring up his other concerns as well. Uptil now, you haven’t actually done or said anything worth garnering suspicion. Jungkook just seemed to be picking up on small things here and there, but he wasn’t sure if those things were just him being paranoid or genuinely things that he should be cautious over. This whole marriage thing was proving to be a lot more confusing than he had initially thought.

“What is it?” Taehyung asked, noticing his friend’s silence. Jungkook hesitated for a moment, but, after earning a questioning look from Taehyung, he relented slightly.

“How well of a background check did your parents do on her?” Jungkook asked cautiously. He didn’t want Taehyung to know too much of how he was feeling at the moment, in case this was just his mind being overactive, but something in Taehyung’s expression seemed to indicate that he knew a lot more than what Jungkook was letting on.

“They did a very thorough one, of course,” Taehyung said, eyeing Jungkook knowingly, “you know my parents. If there’s one thing that they’re the best at, it’s uncovering people’s secrets.”

Then he added with a smile, “couldn’t get away with much while growing up because of it.”

Jungkook let his gaze wander around the room, “I just…”

“You’re just suspicious of her,” Taehyung finished, causing Jungkook to look his way, “of course you’re suspicious Jungkook, you’re letting a girl that you’ve never even met before into your house for the first time. It’s a natural reaction, especially considering how untrusting we’ve been conditioned to be since we were young.”

Taehyung clapped Jungkook on the back reassuringly, “I was the exact same way when I married Chaewon. Hell, in our first year of being married I even accused her of being a traitor when she was planning a surprise party for my birthday. When she finally told me… man, it took me a whole year to make it up to her. On another note, from a married man to a newly married man, don’t accuse your wife of anything unless you’re a hundred and ten percent sure of it. Otherwise you’ll never hear the end of it.”

Jungkook rolled his eyes, causing Taehyung to laugh.

“Besides, have you seen Y/N? She’s so shy and naive, her own reflection in the mirror must frighten her. I doubt you have anything to worry about, especially after my parents’ background check. Just enjoy yourself, man, it’s your wedding night,” Taehyung said with a knowing smirk.

Obviously ignoring the suggestive comment, Jungkook nodded, finding logic in Taehyung’s other words. Jungkook had never been married, all of this was new to him. But if Taehyung, who had been married for almost a decade, said feelings like this were normal, then maybe he really was just being overly paranoid about the situation. You’d had a thorough background check done, which revealed nothing, and your personality was quite clear to Jungkook after he’d observed you at the wedding.

It was time Jungkook started trying to enjoy this marriage as much as he could. He was going to be stuck with you indefinitely, and constantly being suspicious of you was only going to wear him out, especially since you now had access to the only place he allowed himself to be free of the constantly vigilant and calculating mind that came with being the leader of the Jeons.

Jungkook turned to Taehyung, about to thank him for the insight, but the sound of the door opening once again caused the two to shift their gaze to behind them. The sight of the man walking through the doorway immediately had Jungkook wrinkling his nose in distaste while Taehyung’s expression had become a distant neutral. The man didn’t seem to mind the reactions if he noticed them, casually strolling deeper into the house until he was standing before the two.

“Jungkook, Taehyung,” Daehyun nodded, the respectful gesture somehow seeming more disrespectful if anything. He had clearly just come back from the wedding, still wearing his black suit and light brown hair styled back, “you just got married, yet I see only Taehyung and no bride. Shall I assume the two of you are running away together?”

The tasteless joke was followed by a deep laugh, one that belonged to neither Jungkook nor Taehyung. Instead they just stared at him with an unamused scowl.

“Relax, it’s only a joke,” he shook his head, gaze wandering the place casually, “I doubt your wife and kid would like the thought of that anyway.”

Taehyung’s jaw ticked at Daehyun’s words. Even if he hadn’t directly threatened or disrespected them in any way, just the mention of his family from his mouth was enough for Taehyung’s gaze to turn icy.

“Careful Daehyun, you’re standing before two mafia leaders,” Taehyung said, voice low and intimidating, “I would be less casual in our presence if I were you.”

To Taehyung and Jungkook’s dismay, Daehyun simply chuckled, “ah yes, but Jungkook and I are cousins. He’ll cut me some slack, won’t he?”

Jungkook didn’t answer, even after Daehyun gave his arm a lighthearted punch. Daehyun was the cousin that Jungkook could never be rid of, no matter how badly he wanted to. He was slimy and tactless and everything Jungkook hated rolled into one unbearable being. Having to give him access to his home, his only place of peace, had been one of the hardest things to do. But at the time, Jungkook had had to make sacrifices and this had been one of them.

Daehyun, undeterred by his cousin’s lack of response, leaned his arm on Jungkook’s shoulder casually, “congratulations by the way. When I saw your wife’s face- god did she look young! You’re so lucky man, I hope my future wife turns out like that.”

Jungkook grimaced as he suddenly felt the desire to wipe off any remnants of Daehyun’s touch from his suit. Daehyun had attended the same university as Taehyung and Jungkook, yet he had evidently obtained none of the class that they had. Everyday he wondered how the two of them could possibly be related. For the sake of Jungkook’s mental wellbeing, sometimes he liked to imagine Daehyun had actually been adopted and his parents had simply decided not to share that piece of information.

“I should get going,” Jungkook said stiffly, brushing his cousin’s arm off his shoulder. He fixed his suit as Daehyung smirked at him, likely thinking of Jungkook’s comment as more suggestive than he had actually meant.

Jungkook faced Taehyung to give him a curt nod before he turned and began walking up the stairs, not bothering to use the fawn iron bannisters on either side of him. He could hear Taehyung taking his leave through the front door, dragging a complaining Daehyun behind him to Jungkook’s satisfaction. The sound of the front door shutting had never sounded so delightful.

A silence ensued as Jungkook walked through the hallway upstairs, continuing until he paused in front of his bedroom’s door. He couldn’t hear any noises coming from inside the room, so, with a light knock against the white and fawn wood, his hand wrapped around the handle to turn it and finally push the door open.

The windows displayed an almost set sun, coating the atmosphere in a blanket of dimness. Everything about his bedroom had been changed. His once dark brown and white bed had been switched out for a cream and fawn coloured one, with a bouquet of vibrant red roses sitting atop the fancy and plush duvet, while his black leather couches had been replaced by light cloth ones. The ceiling and walls had been painted white, complimenting the new white and fawn patterned marble floor. His old dresser had also disappeared, a cream coloured dresser twice its size sitting in its place instead.

Aside from the drastic changes that had been made to his bedroom, no doubt to signify the change that came with marriage, the first thing Jungkook noticed was the maid who was drawing the curtains closed. The room would have fallen into complete darkness if it weren’t for the lamps sitting atop the bedside tables which were emanating a warm light around the space.

The second thing he noticed was you, who was sitting timidly on the edge of the bed and facing him. Your fingers were playing awkwardly in front of you while your gaze had been fixed on the floor, but at the sound of the door opening, your head raised to look at Jungkook. The sight of your face once again caught him off guard, the lack of makeup revealing a different side of you.

You no longer looked young. Without the innocent look that had been created with the blushes and the eyeliners and the lip glosses, Jungkook could see the mature shape of your eyes and the defined look of your features. You looked your age now, a lot more maturity prominent in your appearance.

You were pretty. Jungkook could admit that much now that you didn’t resemble a teenager. He wondered why you had done your makeup like that in the first place. He’d been to many weddings before and none of the brides had been made to look so young. Then again, Taehyung had already told him that, on top of looking innocent and naive, you seemed to dress the part as well.

“Is something wrong?” Your soft voice asked, eyes blinking innocently up at him.

Jungkook shook his head, motioning for the maid to leave the room. She gave you both a low bow before scurrying out the doorway, making sure to close the door behind her.

“No,” he finally answered. For the first time in a long time he wasn’t entirely sure what to do. He wasn’t sure if you were expecting anything to happen tonight, or if you even wanted anything to happen for now.

His gaze lowered as he mulled over his next actions. You had changed out of your wedding dress into a light pink, mesh lace nightgown that came all the way down to your knees with a silk bow stitched into the centre of your chest, as if your clothes were meant to compensate for the lack of makeup dolling up your features. He almost wanted to raise an eyebrow at you, but you seemed much too fragile to be ridiculed.

Alternatively, he decided to take an experimental step in your direction, surveying your reaction closely. He watched your fingers close tighter around the duvet on which you sat, your gaze hesitantly darting everywhere but him. That was answer enough for him to know how far you were ready to take it tonight. So instead, he passed the bed, opting instead to drop onto the couch on the far end of the room. While he was facing you, you had to turn your head to keep him in your sights.

“What would you like to do now?” He asked you, resting an arm over the back of the couch while he crossed an ankle over his knee.

Your gaze dropped to your lap, watching your fingers fidget against each other nervously. It was almost as if having to answer a question like that had you stressed, which again made Jungkook wonder how you had survived growing up in a mafia family. How could you have been this weak?

“I-I don’t know,” you squeaked, not able to meet his gaze.

Jungkook sighed, turning his head to the side to survey the room. Technically, the two of you could just call it a night and go to sleep. You were clearly too shy to even speak a word to him, and Jungkook had never been one to beg others for things. Only time would tell how well the two of you would get to know each other.

But then Jungkook’s gaze dropped to the coffee table in front of him, noticing some sort of gift basket placed in its centre. It was obviously a wedding gift, filled with chocolates, scented candles, roses… and some wine and champagne. Jungkook has always been more of a whiskey guy, but right now he’d take just about anything.

“Why don’t we have a drink?” He suggested, uncrossing his leg so that he could lean forward and grab the top of the expensive-looking bottle of red wine. He prayed you weren’t one of those people that didn’t drink, your innocent personality couldn’t possibly extend all the way to drinking as well.

You paused for a moment, taking in the bottle in Jungkook’s hand, before slowly nodding your head, to Jungkook’s relief.

He beckoned you over with his free hand, “come here.”

You hesitated before slowly pushing yourself off the bed and took small steps towards him. Jungkook waited patiently until you were standing right in front of the couch, hands clasped shyly in front of you while your gaze stayed glued to the floor. He held up the bottle of wine and champagne in front of you, hoping you weren’t so dumb that you wouldn’t understand the question in his actions. Thankfully you studied the two bottles before a shaky hand raised and tapped against the bottle of champagne.

He pushed the bottle in your direction, forcing you to take it in your own hands, before standing up from the couch. The unexpected action seemed to scare you, causing you to immediately take a timid step backwards while you hugged the bottle to your chest. Jungkook had to suppress a tired, and maybe even slightly annoyed sigh, as he manoeuvred past you. He was trying to be patient, but this was becoming ridiculous.

“You get that open while I wash up,” he said to you, pointing at the bottle still pressed to your chest, “okay?”

You nodded slowly, allowing him to turn away from you and walk into the joint bathroom. Once the door was closed behind him he let out the sigh he had suppressed earlier. You really were… something. He couldn’t believe he had been suspicious of you earlier when you could barely even function properly, much less be any sort of threat. It was irritating, Jungkook felt, to have someone so incompetent for a wife. He wondered if he would have to break you out of that shell. You were the wife of a mafia leader now after all, you had to keep up at least some air of confidence in the presence of others so that you didn’t make him look weak.

Jungkook walked over to the sink and turned it on, splashing some cold water on his face before he began brushing his teeth. You were far from his ideal type, and he doubted this marriage would ever stem into whatever Taehyung and Chaewon had going on. Hell, he was wondering how the two of you could ever even produce an heir. You’d probably spontaneously combust if he even tried to touch you. And besides, he didn’t really want to touch you if he was being honest. You reminded him too much of a weak and helpless child, which was obviously a huge turn off. He may have been a mafia leader, but he wasn’t a complete monster.

Jungkook placed his toothbrush into the holder after spitting into the sink, drying himself off with one of the towels hanging near him. He was about to start changing into more comfortable clothes, only getting as far as unbuttoning the first few buttons of his black collar shirt, before a crashing sound rang from the bedroom. In less than a second he had pushed out of the bathroom, immediately scanning the bedroom before him as his hand automatically sought out the gun at his side.

It took him a moment to realise the lack of intruders in the room, and then another to take in your completely unharmed form. You were standing with your hands covering your mouth, looking down at the ground. Jungkook followed your gaze to find the champagne bottle rolling along the marble floor, still entirely intact. You had clearly dropped the thing accidentally, causing Jungkook to place his gun back in his waistband.

“I’m s-so sorry,” you squeaked, bending down quickly to pick up the bottle. Suppressing a huff, Jungkook walked over to you to take it from your hands.

“Here, let me do it,” he said, taking two of the crystal champagne flutes from the gift basket and placing them on the glass coffee table as he sat himself down on the couch, distantly annoyed at the fact that you couldn’t even pour a glass of champagne by yourself. Was this seriously what he was going to have to deal with from now on?

He tipped the bottle, filling both glasses to the brim with the bubbling liquid as you hesitantly sat yourself down on the couch to his left. His gaze fell on you as he was about to offer you one of the flutes, but paused when he noticed the look on your face. For the first time since he met you, you looked almost… excited. Usually your eyes would be downturned and focused on the floor, but this time they were fixed on the crystal glasses before you as if you were eager to taste the expensive liquid. Jungkook made a note of it, tucking it into the back of his mind for later.

“Take one,” he said as he motioned towards one of the glasses, but to his surprise you hesitantly shook your head. Your expression had turned timid once again, any hint of excitement from earlier entirely gone. He narrowed his eyes at you as he wondered if he had just imagined it. It had barely been there anyway.

“I don’t drink,” you said in your signature soft tone, not able to meet his gaze. Of course you don’t, Jungkook thought irritatedly, god forbid the princess touch a glass of champagne. He knew the thought was immature, but there was no way he was the most immature person in the room at the moment.

He pushed himself off the couch, very much aware that his patience was starting to wear thin, “well then I guess we should call it a night.”

But before he could step towards the bed, your hand shot out, clutching the edge of his sleeve with your fingers. He immediately looked down at your still seated form, a question in his eyes. You had to look away for a moment, seemingly collecting your nerves, before you met his gaze once again.

“Just because I don’t drink doesn’t mean you can’t,” you said, “I don’t want you not to enjoy yourself because of me. Please stay.”

Jungkook noticed the evident guilt in your eyes as your fingers continued to stay enclosed around the edge of his sleeve. When he didn’t move, you hesitantly leaned forward to gently pick up one of the glasses and then slowly presented it to him. His gaze shifted to the glass in your hand, pausing for only a moment, before he took it from you. He let himself sink back onto the couch as he studied you.

You continued to sit in your spot on the sofa, posture still timid. Your gaze bounced from one part of the floor to the next, while your expression remained shy. But there was something else lurking behind the expression. If Jungkook focused well enough, he could have sworn the edges of your lips were turned slightly upwards. It was so faint that it might have not even been there, but the more he focused, the more prominent it became to him.

A naive part of him might have thought it was from being successful in getting him to stay and have the drink, but the more logical part of him had already latched onto an idea, one that refused to be swept to the side any longer.

His gaze lowered to your collarbone, a glint from the heart-shaped necklace resting over your soft skin catching his attention. Unlike earlier, he noticed that the metal heart was actually a locket, and that its two sides were slightly open. It couldn’t have been ajar by more than a millimetre, but Jungkook still noted it down in his mind.

His gaze then ascended to your face, still a perfect picture of innocence. Your eyes were widened to resemble a curious doe, while your lips were pulled into a timid line. The hands resting in your lap fumbled with each other shyly, really completing the look.

Finally, his gaze dropped to the drink in his hand. He brought it closer to his face, as if he were about to take a sip, before eyeing the expensive liquid. His gaze fixed on the miniscule bubbles that continued travelled from the bottom of the flute to its surface, causing it to sizzle.

Jungkook slowly leaned forward, keeping his eye on his drink as he brought it away from his lips and instead calmly set it down on the coffee table before him. He then easily pushed himself off of the couch, which caused your brows to jump. There was an apparent question in your expression, one you decided to voice out loud.

“Is something wrong with the drink?” You asked, voice still soft as your doe eyes looked up at him through your lashes.

Ignoring the question, Jungkook placed a hand on the edge of the coffee table and slowly pushed it forward so that it was farther away from your seated form. The action caused you to blink.

“Is everything okay?” You tried again slowly.

But Jungkook then faced you, assessing you for a moment, before he took a few steps in your direction. You had to crane your neck upwards to continue meeting his gaze, his tall form towering over your seated one. This time your brows pulled together, eyes still doe-like, as you continued to question his actions.

“Jungko-”

Jungkook didn’t let you finish. The second you opened your mouth his large hand suddenly shot out and grabbed your neck, slamming your head into the seat of the couch. You squeaked at the sudden violence, immediately clawing at the fingers now enclosed around your throat. But your efforts were nothing in comparison to Jungkook’s iron hold.

“J-Jungkook, you’re h-hurting me!” You let out a choked cry, continuing to put up a weak fight against Jungkook. Tears had already started to coat your eyes and run down your cheeks, but Jungkook ignored them completely. He watched you struggle, fascinated by the way you thrashed around like an animal yet every jab at him was weak and ineffective. There was no sign of the strength he had noticed when you had grabbed onto his bicep earlier, so hard that he was sure it would leave a bruise. It was enough to make him grin.

Jungkook lowered his face so that his lips neared your ear, his body still hovering over your smaller form.

“If you wanted to kill me princess, you’ll have to do a better job than that,” he said, voice low. Your eyes widened even further as you continued to struggle against him, making pitiful noises that didn’t move him in the slightest.

“K-Kill?! What are y-you talking about?!” You continued to choke out as tears streamed down your cheeks. Your hands had moved to his chest, desperately trying to push him away, yet failing miserably in the process. Jungkook tilted his head at your weak plea, eager to hear what other ways you’d beg him to let you go.

“P-please-” You began, but then cut yourself off abruptly when your tear-filled gaze met his. You must have seen something in his eyes, because he felt your body slacken, no longer desperate to fight him despite his hold on your neck cutting off your lung’s supply of air.

Instead you studied him, really studied him. He could see the same calculated look you had used on Taehyung earlier during the wedding. It was as if you were assessing Jungkook, picking out his strengths and weaknesses to figure out how you could use them to your advantage. He watched you weigh options in your head patiently before you finally tilted your head to the side calmly and shot him a look. In response, Jungkook decided to loosen his grip on your throat. He watched you catch your breath for a moment before you spoke.

“Well, you’re already smarter than the first one,” you commented, but your voice was entirely different. It was no longer soft and timid, rather it was a lot more deep and confident. He watched your expression change in the same manner. Your once wide and innocent looking eyes narrowed into a more matured look, while your lips straightened into more of a dangerously amused grin than a naive pout.

Then he processed your words. The ‘first one’ had to be your first husband, who Taehyung had explained had been killed on his wedding day. Taehyung had mentioned that a rival gang had been the one to murder him, but the actual one responsible for his death was clear to Jungkook now.

“Do you make it a hobby to poison your husbands’ drinks on their wedding nights?” He asked, hand still wrapped around your throat. He had situated himself between your legs, his own leg pushing one of yours against the back of the couch while his free hand pushed the other down against the seat of the couch. The position ensured you wouldn’t be able to kick him, while his body hovering over your own seemed to take care of the rest of you. You were smart enough not to try anything anyway, knowing Jungkook’s strength was incomparable to yours.

You shrugged, panting at the limited oxygen entering your lungs, “golf just wasn’t cutting it for me anymore.”

“Golf? How can a weak and helpless girl like you play such a sport?” Jungkook couldn’t help but quip, bordering on mocking you. It only made you grin, clearly no hint of offence in your expression.

He studied your nonchalant demeanour curiously. You had tried to kill him, and he should send your head back to your father’s doorstep for it. And yet, you couldn’t have looked any less composed with his hand around your neck. Either you were a complete idiot, which seemed much less likely now that he was starting to see your real character, or you believed you had the upper hand in this situation.

“You’re quite calm for someone I should have killed,” he noted, meaning for it to be a threat. But once again you didn’t seem deterred. In fact, the comment seemed to amuse you even more.

“Just because you should have me killed doesn’t mean you’ll actually have me killed.”

Jungkook’s brow raised, finding an opportunity to prod you further, “and why won’t I have you killed? Your father sent you here to kill me under the pretence of an alliance. I should start a war for this.”

You nodded, “but you see, my father did send me here to form an alliance. The whole killing you idea was all mine.”

Jungkook scoffed at the lame attempt at a lie, “you expect me to believe that?”

But you scoffed as well, meeting his gaze just as vehemently. It was an odd sight considering you had spent the entire day trying to make yourself small and avoiding his gaze. Yet here you were now, eyes ablaze like a thrashing fire. Not a spontaneously violent fire either, no Jungkook could very easily handle that. You were more like an electrical fire. It was becoming increasingly apparent that he had to be cautious around you, and that trusting any word that came out of your mouth was dangerous.

“Prove it then,” he challenged, tightening his hold on your neck for a moment to remind you of your vulnerability.

“I don’t need to prove anything,” you said, a hand coming up to wrap around his wrist, “just go ahead and mention to my father that I’m not a complete airhead that’s afraid of her own shadow. He’ll laugh in your face and call you a moron.”

The revelation that your father was just as clueless about your true self as everyone else only confirmed his initial thoughts. It also proved he couldn’t have trusted you to carry out an assassination attempt, meaning your father really did genuinely want an alliance with the Jeons. That was perfect, because Jungkook had certain plans that relied on this partnership. It was a relief that they hadn’t gone to waste.

“If it wasn’t your father’s idea, then why did you poison my drink?” He asked with a raised brow.

Silence filled the room following his question, one that allowed you both to hear the sounds of the wall clock. He got the feeling that you were contemplating something once again, planning out your next move.

Then you squirmed underneath him, seemingly getting comfortable, but Jungkook knew better than to believe whatever you appeared as. The second your hand went for the gun wedged in his waistband, he grabbed your wrist, pining it against the couch, while the hand that had been around your throat pulled out the matte black weapon. He slowly brought it to your temple with an amused grin.

“If you wanted it so badly, you could have just asked,” he taunted, bringing the gun down so that its barrel lifted your chin, “now, I asked a question princess.”

You huffed, your amusement finally falling to give him a half-hearted glare.

“I want a divorce.”

Jungkook couldn’t help the laugh that sounded from his lips at your straightforwardness. You just tried to kill him, it didn’t take a genius to work out that you weren’t a fan of this marriage and wanted out of it.

It was an arranged marriage after all, and even though all arranged marriages didn’t equal a forced marriage, technically he couldn’t be certain that this marriage was of your own choice or not. For all he knew, you had some secret lover waiting for you back home, your marriage with Jungkook coming between the star crossed romance. The thought made his jaw tick. He was far from in love with you, but Jungkook tended to be territorial about what was his. And you were his wife at the moment.

You, on the other hand, seemed surprised by his reaction, as if it was the last thing you expected him to do.

“I mean you obviously want one now too, right?” You asked with your brows furrowed.

Jungkook didn’t respond, and that only seemed to make you more agitated.

“I’m not the wife that you want. You clearly can’t stand me when I have my ditzy front pulled up and you can’t trust me when I don’t.”

Although the points that you were making were true, there was one important factor you were missing, and that was the alliance between the Jeons and the Lees. Jungkook needed this alliance to, at the very least make himself seem like, he was more powerful than the Parks and the Mins. And with their recent moves -with what he saw at the docks just last night- he needed this alliance now more than ever. So while he normally would have had you executed and then sent your head to your father’s doorstep for your little assassination attempt, this time he was going to have to sweep his pride to the side.

Jungkook placed his free hand next to your head as he pushed himself up, choosing instead to stay standing in front of the sofa. His intense gaze dropped to your still form while his gun hung from his fingers firmly.

“No,” he finally said, causing your brows to jump.

You quickly pushed yourself off the couch to stand just as he was, but Jungkook didn’t move. With the sofa right behind you, barring you from taking a few steps back, that left you and him standing dangerously close to each other. The bow from your nightgown pressed against his partly unbuttoned black collar shirt, while its edge grazed his dress pants. Jungkook could feel the heat of your breath raise goosebumps from his exposed collarbone.

“Why not? I’m not the wife that you want.”

He smiled at the bite in your words, finding your frustration amusing, “you’ve got it all wrong. I simply wanted a wife to make the Lees allies, nothing more.”

Like a fire set alight, your eyes flashed in anger, “I won’t change. I’ll still be your idiot wife that will make you look weak.”

It was true that most wives of mafia leaders were strong and confident beings, symbols of their husbands’ power, and that having a wife like you may be a slightly risky choice. But Jungkook was sure his carefully established reputation could take the hit. Besides, although you might make him look weak, your marriage with him would make him far from actually weak.

“You think divorcing you won’t make me look weak?” Jungkook decided to say, unsure of if he was saying it to play with you more or to make sure you don’t believe your threats are inconveniencing him, “you’ve fooled everyone with your ditzy facade. A divorce will make them think I wasn’t able to tame a naive girl. You think people will accept me as a leader then?”

You didn’t react to the point, giving him the feeling that you might have already known that might pose an issue for him. Perhaps you thought his reputation could take the hit? When Jungkook really thought about it, it probably could have. He’d worked hard to be both feared and respected for years, a divorce like this, while questionable in the eyes of the people under him, could have been pushed under the rug given time. But the alliance was too important to him.

And that was something he needed to make sure you knew.

“That means you will continue to be my wife,” he settled, lowering his gaze so that it met yours with unwavering finality, “so you’ll continue to act like it.”

Jungkook felt his voice naturally lower, a hint of a threat evident in his tone, “listen to me well, Y/N. I don’t care if you act like the dumbest woman on Earth or the most sultry. Regardless, what you will act like is my wife. When we’re outside of this bedroom, we will laugh together, we will hug each other, and we will do whatever other damn thing married couples do so that no one doubts this relationship.”

“And if I don’t?” You bit, the speed of your reply making his jaw tick.

“If you don’t, you can stay locked in this bedroom until you learn how to behave. Understood?”

Your rage couldn’t have been more prominent, with a fierce glare burning right through him and a pair of fisted hands at your sides. Yet Jungkook ignored it all, instead meeting your gaze coolly as he waited for your confirmation.

It took a long moment to come, so long that Jungkook thought it wasn’t going to come at all. But eventually he noticed you nod your head. It was barely a movement, your head tipping down slightly before resuming its earlier place, but it was enough for him despite your unwavering glare.

He finally took a few steps back, thrusting the barrel of his gun once again into the waistband of his pants. Your angry form, on the other hand, didn’t move, opting instead to stand perfectly still despite your calves pressing into the sofa behind you. Jungkook ran a hand through his hair, brushing the strands that had fallen onto his forehead away from his face.

“Good, then we’re done here.”

He finally turned away from you, eyeing the door on his left intently. But before he could move towards it, your words made him pause.

“I just tried to kill you,” you commented before he turned to question its randomness. He found you sitting on the sofa once again, an eerily thoughtful look lurking behind your rage-filled eyes, “how will you know I won’t do it again?”

Jungkook tilted his head in response.

“You can try all you want, princess,” he said, liking the feeling of that nickname on his tongue more and more. It was almost addicting, “but you won’t succeed.”

Then his lips curled into a sly smirk, “after all, what kind of husband would I be if I barred my wife from her hobbies?”

He was able to just barely catch the roll of your eyes before he turned and pushed through the door he had been eyeing earlier, his hands automatically locking it behind him as he casually surveyed his office. The room had been spared from the new gleaming white and fawn furniture which had taken over his bedroom. Instead, it was filled with familiar dark brown.

Refined dark oak wood shelves and cabinets lined the walls except for the wall behind his large desk, which was made up entirely of a bookshelf filled to the brim with various hardcovers. For the sake of matching with the rest of the house, the marble floor had been done a light fawn colour, while another wall was made up of bulletproof glass, its centre having the ability to slide open to reveal a decent sized balcony.

Jungkook shrugged off his blazer as he made his way to his desk, laying the piece of cloth over the back of his black leather chair, before he opened the glass cabinet behind it. He didn’t need to think much as his fingers expertly curled around an expensive bottle of whiskey and a crystal glass. Before he knew it, he found himself standing outside on his balcony overlooking his estate, one hand holding the crystal glass filled halfway with light brown liquid while the other clutched the iron railing.

His gaze bounced around his estate for a peaceful moment as he took a sip from his glass, taking in the expanse of the luscious green field bordering the neatly done driveway despite the darkness of the night. In its centre was an intricately designed white fountain spewing water in four different directions, but all of which emptied systematically into the white basin at its base. The estate itself stretched for metres, the gates enclosing the space barely visible from where he was standing. Jungkook’s thoughts bounced around his head just as quickly as his gaze.

What a day it had been. At first, you’d been a complete idiot, one that had irritated him to no extent with your doe eyes and evident shyness.

But then you had turned out to be an entirely different species, far from the innocent and ditzy girl he’d labelled you as. You were cunning and feisty and seemingly very much ready for a divorce.

Jungkook felt the corners of his lips pull upwards into a grin as he took another sip of his whisky.

You were quite the enigma.

But he was going to enjoy the challenge.

A/N: comments, reblogs, and likes are appreciated!

3K notes · View notes

ctrlhope · 9 months ago

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.

4K notes · View notes

chateautae · 6 months ago

Text

risk management | kth. (m)

➵ summary : you have one rule; you don’t date investment bankers, point blank period. but when your best friend invites you to her over-the-top housewarming party to meet her husband’s co-worker, kim taehyung, you don’t expect the night to take a wild turn; and risk bending your own rules.

➵ pairing: investment banker!taehyung x f. reader

➵ genre : non-idol!au, s2l, smut, pwp

➵ rating : 18+

➵ word count : 9.4k

➵ warnings : alcohol consumption, swearing, sexual tension, heavy making out, mentions of exhibitionism (nobody sees them), big dicc!tae, against a window sex, unprotected sex (you’re smarter than this guys), ass, breast and pussy fondling (the holy trinity <3), sir kink!!, dirty talk, brief hand-jobbing, oral (m. and f. receiving), panty sniffing, denied orgasm, marking, riding, ass smacking, scratching, cum swallowing,

➵ a/n : as always, your feedback means the world to me <3

➵ playlist : take a slice by glass animals

Walking into Nabi’s home was the equivalent of waltzing into a bakery shop. The warm, aesthetic lighting provided a sense of homey comfort, the woodsy, though elegant furnishing and indoor pieces added an exquisite touch of sophistication, and the heavenly smell of freshly baked cherry pie welcomed you into a cozy paradise.

The front door shuts behind you, and you’re privy to at least three dozen people chattering and mingling away. Some clink glasses of liquor together. Others pick off the appetizers in the opulent kitchen while a handful smoke outside on the lawn.

Eyes surfing the crowd of people, you attempt to spot your best friend. Some familiar faces indeed catch your sight, though it’s the amount of new ones that settle some anxiety in the pit of your stomach. It’s not that you’re bad with people; you can actually be quite interpersonal, though the idea that many of these people are strangers leaves you slightly displaced, taking a deep breath.

Exhaling, you’re suddenly interrupted by a familiar cheery voice latching onto your arm.

“Y/N, you came!”

“Of course I would. Why wouldn’t I?” You joke with her. “I know how important this is to you.”

“Thank you. I was seriously getting worried you wouldn’t come. I’m so glad you did!” Nabi’s usually chirpy nature curves your lips, chuckling a little. “God, you must be starving. Let’s get you into the kitchen.”

Nabi leads the way towards her grand, quite impressive kitchen. You have to honestly raise your brows, lips slightly hanging open at the shimmering granite countertops, the sleek induction stove, and the expansive storage space. She surely had an eye for interior design.

When Nabi told you she and her husband Namjoon would be purchasing a new home, never did you expect a house of this caliber. It was already located in quite the expensive, high-class neighbourhood, but stepping inside to assess the luster yourself felt like a reality check.

You live nowhere near this luxury.

“Oh my God, Y/N, I have news.” Nabi dramatically begins, tugging you towards the table of appetizers. You nab a small plate as you choose some posh finger foods, attention shifting towards your best friend.

“Soooo, some of Namjoon’s co-workers are here.” She playfully bounces her brows, wiggling her shoulders a little to indicate something mischievous. How very Nabi of her, you think.

“Ah, speaking of Namjoon, I haven’t been able to say hi to him.”

“And that’s exactly why I’m telling you this.” She sing-songs, much too proud and giddy to not be scheming something evil.

“Nabi.. what in God’s name did you do?”

“Nothing! I just wanted to tell you that Namjoon’s with a co-worker right now.” She explains, but soon begins nudging your side as you bite into a cube of Brie. “And guess which co-worker he’s with?”

You gently raise your brows in question, your round eyes conveying an ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about’ look of inquiry. Nabi ends up huffing in complaint with a roll of her eyes, suddenly snatching your snack plate from you and placing it down on her table.

“Wha-Nabi!”

“You’re coming with me.” She rigidly instructs, clasping onto your wrist and dragging you across her kitchen. You protest against her, grievous over your lonely plate of food.

“Nabi, are you serious?!”

“Very. You haven’t said hi to Namjoon yet, and that’s a crime in my household!” She valiantly declares, to which you roll your eyes to the back of your head and unwillingly tag along.

Nabi tugs you through her house far enough she reaches her living room looking out into her backyard, another show of just how luxurious her new home is. She only stops once you both spot her husband Namjoon, who is indeed speaking to a coworker. The stranger’s suit-cladded back is faced towards you both, your attention falling towards an (objectively) striking Namjoon. His hair is impeccably styled, and he adorns a clean, white dress shirt with a fitting vest.

“Baby!” Nabi calls her hubby, and Namjoon’s distracted within minutes.

“Hey, Bee, what’s up?” Namjoon instinctively asks his wife, and it always manages to melt your heart how considerate he is of her. He spots you immediately and waves a hand as he begins approaching you two, his smile dimply and dashing.

“Hey, Y/N, it’s so great you came!” Namjoon chimes, soon wrapping his big, muscly arms around you for a bear hug. You nearly lose air; he’s gotten huge over the few months you haven’t seen him. You kindly return the embrace, giving his large back a friendly rub.

Just as you let go, Namjoon gestures towards the co-worker he was speaking to. “Sorry I didn’t get to greet you at the door, Y/N. I was just with a friend. Taehyung-ah!”

Right then and there, said co-worker of Namjoon swivels around, revealing himself with a charming smile and beautiful, yet fierce eyes that cause every feminine fiber within your being to become attracted.

This is quite literally the most handsome man you have ever laid witness upon.

He makes careful, slow strides over to the group, and you can’t help but notice how long and model-like his legs are; the confidence in his steps, the assured posture of his squared shoulders and back, the sharp, cutting edge of his sexy jawline. His brows were strong, lips wide and full, the expression he wore on his face equivalent to the ruler of a kingdom.

“Yes, Taehyung! Come meet Y/N!” Nabi becomes far too elated, grasping your shoulder. “This is the Taehyung I told you about.” She harshly whispers by your ear, to which you are finally greeted by reality.

Fuck.

How could you have become so distracted so as to not recognize the man’s name? Nabi has never shut her trap about him ever since the day she met him, and your eyes shockingly widen once she mutters those words to you. You turn to quietly scold her, but you’re soon interrupted by Taehyung joining the group.

“Hey, everyone.”

Fuck, he has a deep voice.

You’ve always had an uncontrollable attraction towards deep voices.

That aside, you tug at Nabi’s arms encircling your bicep, gently rebuking her in a (hopefully) discreet voice.

“Nabi, what the hell? I thought I told you I wasn’t up for this?”

Clearly, you’re horrid at whispering because Namjoon and Taehyung across from you both fall silent, causing enough awkward tension in the air for Nabi to crack a very fake, deliberately polite smile.

“Sorry, boys. Would you excuse us?”

Nabi quickly ensnares your wrist to angrily tug you into a separate room, presuming it’s a guest room. She turns towards you after shutting the door with baffled eyes and firmly crossed arms, evidently pissed.

“Y/N, what the fuck?!”

“What, Nabi?”

“Why would you say that when he was literally right there?” Nabi gestures for emphasis.

You grievously sigh, despising that you were falling into this frustrating line of discussion again. You know all about this, Taehyung, your best friend has been trying to get on your radar. It’s not exactly exclusive information that you’re single. It’s painstakingly obvious being one of the only unmarried and childless friends among your peers. It’s what makes all of them seek out copious amounts of men for you to finally get hitched with. But there’s always the satirical element to every time you meet any of them; they all usually fall into the same pattern of failure.

They’re either egotistical assholes that are unknowledgeable on how to take care of a woman, are far too fragile with their masculinity to even earn a smidge of criticism on the way they eat pussy, or are plain jane cookie-cutter corporate dogs. Most of the time, it irks your soul, being left with fickle relationships that end horribly or somewhat okay sex that eventually dwindles out into dry text messages.

Sure, sometimes you get a good fuck or two in there, but none of that matters anymore. You’re tired of assholes, tired of the same routine of sorry-assed men that can sometimes never even get you to cum.

Of course, you’re not saying all of this applies to Taehyung. You won’t subject the innocent man to such scrutinizing standards already. From what you knew, he was a kind, respectful and hard-working man. He was the epitome of tall, dark and handsome. There was surely something undeniably intriguing about him, and the sweet rise of his cheeks indicated to you he was indeed a pleasant man; there was no doubt about that.

But there was just one goddamn thing about him.

“Nabi, I fucking told you I don’t date investment bankers. You know how I feel about them ever since we found out the pattern of all my failed dates; they were all in finance!”

“Y/N, c’mon, babe. You can’t hold this prejudiced mindset about all investment bankers, didn’t you see the man? He’s scrumptious!”

“He’s scrumptious, yes, but I’ll still hold my bias against investment bankers ever since one literally answered a business call when he was balls deep inside me.”

Nabi sighs, hand to her forehead as she rubs out the figurative stress piling onto her. “Y/N, look. I get it. I know you don’t date guys like him, but… give him a chance, will you? I got to know him, and he’s a sweet guy.” She softes her tone to persuade you, intertwining her fingers with yours to play with them.

“He has a lot in common with you, and he did say he’d like to meet you.” She speaks through puckered lips to coat her tone with sugary sweetness, honestly loosening up as you watch her doe eyes plead you. “You’d be a good match, Y/N. Just one chance.”

Perhaps the night would be a disaster, or perhaps you could find someone actually worthwhile; you’d never know if you didn’t try. That, and the combination of Nabi’s puppy-like eyes and adorable pout, do you in, ultimately acquiescing.

“Fine, fine.. I’ll meet him.” you drawl, to which your best friend springs to life.

Nabi happily bumps a fist in the air as she celebrates, squeaking a series of elated explanations about Taehyung as she leads you out the room and towards this seemingly perfect match of an investment banker.

“Namjoon, baby, we should probably set up dinner for our guests, don’t you think?” Nabi inserts herself back into Namjoon and Taehyung’s conversation, thanking God he hadn’t left yet after you so rudely whispered about him.

“Of course, love. We should get going.” Namjoon secretly communicates with his wife through his eyes, his smile growing equally as scheming as hers. God, they’re the perfect match.

“We’ll see you two around.” Namjoon politely excuses himself and Nabi from you and Taehyung, to which your best friend shoots you a cute wave and wink, and Namjoon similarly flashes a finger gun and suggestive bounce of his brows to Taehyung.

The displaced pair of you send tentative waves back to your friends, eyes finally, though nervously shifting towards each other. The sheepish two of you gently chuckle then, attempting to cut the nerves and welcome some ease between you.

“Hi.” Taehyung begins.

“Hi.”

Your fingers dig into your Coach wristlet, maintaining a smile. It’s not that you’re anxious, but something about Taehyung automatically makes you assume a shier demeanour, his own exuding a subtle alpha-male power you’ve never felt before. Other men have channeled such power, but only with demeaning or dogmatic intentions; never so subtle and yet, enticing like this.

“So, it seems you and Nabi had a lot to say, huh?”

Your eyes immediately go wide, remembering he very clearly heard what you said about him and seemed intelligent enough to fill in the blanks of your private conversation. “Oh gosh, I’m so sorry about that. I was just- I wasn’t-”

“Expecting to meet someone new so soon, I get you.” Taehyung considerately offers an answer, to which you honestly feel your heart slow down its erratic beating, your lips curving into a smile of gratitude.

“I’m Taehyung, by the way, Kim Taehyung.” He extends his hand, introducing himself quite suavely. His deep, baritone voice is what warms you up to him. There’s something so innately soothing about it.

“Y/N, Y/N Y/L/N.” You clasp onto his hand, and it’s almost embarrassing how your eyes widen. His hands are huge, his slender, ring-slated fingers long enough to entirely engulf your hand, the expanse of his warm palm wide enough he could most likely grab you with ease.

You place a pin in that thought before it makes your legs squirm.

“So..” You clear your throat, releasing him to fish yourself out of your delusions. “Your friends with both Nabi and Joon, huh?”

“Yeah, I work with Namjoon. I just got transferred to his department a few months ago. I’m-”

“An investment banker, right?” You finish for him, to which he puckers his lips with impression, his eyes bright with surprise.

“Yeah, I am.” He confirmed with a smile, hand coming up to rub the back of his neck. Is it possible he’s nervous about meeting you, too? You don’t want to toot your own horn, squashing the contemplation.

“How do you know Nabi?”

“She’s my best friend. I’ve known her since our first year of high school.”

“Wow, you guys must be-”

“Like peanut butter and jam, yeah.” You both adorn amicable smiles, enjoying the company. Taehyung’s already turning out to be quite pleasant, exhibiting actual manners and social etiquette as you work through small talk.

It’s almost comedic how even such simple decency seems so rare these days.

“And you’re a..?” Taehyung suddenly obstructs your thoughts, drawing out his question for you to answer.

“Oh, I’m studying for my PhD in psychology. Professor is my goal.”

“Ah, at the university here, huh?”

“Yeah, it’s always been a dream of mine to teach.” You honestly admit, watching Taehyung reveal a quite... breath-taking smile, you notice. He seems thoroughly interested in what you have to say, and you quickly find a liking towards his personable aura. Taehyung’s close to speaking again until a rowdy group of men next to you almost impede on your personal space, instinctively cowering away.

Taehyung’s eyes shift towards the group, jutting out an arm in between you and the careless stranger.

“We should probably move.” He instructs, and something about the caramel smooth tone of his voice compels you to do so, to feel safe about it. Taehyung encircles his arm around you, not exactly touching you, but shielding precariously as he moves you both further away from the partygoers. He may not be directly contacting your skin, but the proximity of his presence alone suffuses you with a sense of fiery hormones.

He smells incredible.

The pair of you settle beside the backyard door, now much more secluded in the corner of the grand living room. Taehyung retracts his arm then, settling it by his side as he holds his glass of wine while you tuck some hair behind your ear.

He swishes around the mahogany liquid in his glass, while you twiddle with your fingers. A beat of wary, nearly awkward silence passes until Taehyung bravely breaks the ice.

“So.. Nabi and Namjoon keep telling me that I should ask you out.”

There it is, the big elephant in the room. You should’ve known Namjoon was also indoctrinating the idea into Taehyung’s head, being a schemer just like his wife. Namjoon’s obvious encouragement earlier and the tangibly nervous shuffling of Taehyung’s feet was also a tell-tale sign.

“Oh-please, I’m so sorry about this, but I don’t really date investment bankers.” You admit as courteously as possible.

“Oh really, now?” Taehyung seems slightly taken aback but handles the information surprisingly well.

You immediately scramble to clarify things. “Sorry, it’s nothing against you per se... I just-don’t necessarily have a liking towards corporate men.”

“Ah, I see.” Taehyung charmingly smiles, and something about the curve of his pretty lips makes you want to kiss them.

No, no.. you can’t have those thoughts. You cannot possibly be thinking about such things when you’re quite literally turning the gorgeous man down.

“Just not your type, huh?” Taehyung catches your drift, and you let out a sigh of relief for his understanding.

“Essentially? I’ve just had terrible experiences with them, and I’m not into the whole egotistical capitalist mentality.”

“I mean,” Taehyung begins, and it’s hard to miss the way his eyes aren’t necessarily kind and polite anymore. They’ve been coloured with a darker shade, his gaze much more piercing, almost wild. “We’re all slaves to capitalism at the end of the day, aren’t we?”

You gulp listening to the slow, alluring cadence of his deep voice, almost as though he was trying to lull you under a spell of his own making. You feel something in the pits of your stomach begin to knot, arousal causing you to fix your legs. “Yeah, I guess so.”

Taehyung narrows his eyes a little as he observes the change in your tone; it’s much more lax, inviting. He takes the opportunity to lean his forearm against the wall you both occupy, taking half a step towards you, and it’s now you realize just how much he towers over you. The impenetrable persona of his climbable body causes you to swallow, shifting your eyes upwards to meet his.

“Funny you don’t like investment bankers,” he comments with a suave tone. “I’m not really into students.”

Your eyebrows furrow with offence, the possible allusion that you’re a child in his eyes throwing you off. You do remember Nabi mentioning he’s a couple years older than you.

And that suddenly makes him a thousand times hotter. Fuck.

“Hey-” but you halt yourself, checking the tone of your voice. “I mean, we’re... all students of something, aren’t we?” You attempt to mirror his earlier comment concerning capitalism, noticing how he lightly smirks at your scrambling.

Is that something he enjoys? Seeing a woman flustered because of him?

Why is that so insanely hot?

“Perhaps,” Taehyung tilts his head in half-hearted agreement, eyes dancing over the guests of the party as he takes a slow, leisurely sip of his wine and returns to you. “Though I’m not into how pretentious doctorate students can be.”

“Hey, I’m not pretentious-”

“And now you know exactly how I feel.”

You open your mouth for a retort but quickly pause. He got you there, your look of defensiveness dismantling into one of amusement, breaking out into a little chuckle. He was trying to get back at you. “I… I’m so sorry.”

Taehyung similarly laughs, and suddenly the sweet chime of his giggle sounds mellifluous to your ears. “No big deal, I just… feel like changing your mind, Y/N.” He sincerely admits, and you soften at the show of genuity in his look, not so nervous anymore.

You bite your lip as your eyes flicker towards the ground, feeling courage permeate through you as you meet his gaze once again. You step closer to him, almost leaning into the arm he’s casted against the wall, finding his irises to be a warm, tender colour of coffee.

“So, here you are at a party drinking an exquisite glass of Merlot compared to the other money-hungry mongers at this party.” You joke.

“Well, what would the other money-hungry mongers usually be drinking, anyway?” He plays along with a similar tone.

“You’d usually find them with a glass of Scotch or Canadian Whiskey, tipped off with rocks, of course, because it adds a little more snazz to their parvenu looks, you get me?”

Taehyung lets out a hearty laugh, joining him as he curtains his mouth with his palm. “Yeah, you’re totally right.” He agrees.

“But not you… huh?” You won’t deny the suggestion that taints your tone, even bringing your hand to his bicep and just gently caressing him. You watch his eyes follow the action, observing calmly, calculatingly as he returns his gaze to you. He’s much more dangerous, tempting.

“Not me, Y/N.”

His reply and the way he recites your name drips with sin, the caramel smoothness of his voice rich enough to want to hear it against your skin. You’re both caught in a moment of simply absorbing each other, observing him bringing a finger to his bottom lip. He rubs slowly as he speaks, drawing your attention towards his mouth.

“And what about you?”

“What about me, Taehyung?”

“You have no drink in your hand.. which means you’re either not a drinker or you’ve got somewhere to go tomorrow morning?” Taehyung draws out as he attempts to uncover you, as though he were traversing the map of mystery within your eyes. “Perhaps to see someone..?”

“Oh, no, I’m not seeing anyone at all.” You immediately respond, squashing that assumption.

“What a coincidence… me neither.”

You could feel the tension between you two. It was palpable, so dense even a diamond couldn’t cut through. There were only mere inches between your bodies, having absent-mindedly gravitated towards each other. Something’s compelling you to drag him into a room or get him out of here, to stick by his side the rest of the party until it leads to something riveting tonight.

But your mind tells you this isn’t a good idea. Sure, despite being an investment banker, Taehyung was certainly sweet and kind, even a delicious man of sin who just looks like he’d let a woman ride his face into the sunset. However, they all seem like that at first until they eventually reveal the beastly, harsh truths behind their unappealing characters, knowing that as much as you feel tempted, whenever you made decisions with your pussy, it didn’t go very well.

“I um… I’m gonna go find Nabi and see if she needs help with dinner.” You stupidly derail the conversation, Taehyung springing back into his courteous persona from before, as though he were also awakened from a trance. “It was great meeting you, Taehyung.. And I see where our friends think we could be a good match but I just… I don’t think we’re a good idea. I hope you can understand.”

It’s only right. You don’t date investment bankers, and he’s not into PhD students, it makes perfect sense for you two to not tread any further than this.

“Yeah, yeah.. Of course.” Taehyung sweetly smiles, not revealing any hurt or immature offence, but rather mutual understanding, thankful he was surprisingly so compassionate.

“It's okay, Y/N. I agree, it only makes sense.” He admits, propping his arm off the wall. “I’ll see you around the party, alright?”

“Of course, enjoy yourself as well.” You politely reply.

“Take care of yourself, Y/N.” He considerately bids a farewell, and it honestly feels good to hear such words.

You kindly wave him off as he lets you go, appreciating how gentlemanly he was, and shooting him a grateful grin. “Take care, Taehyung. I’ll see you around.”

Taehyung rams you against the front door, his full lips devouring every inch of your hot mouth. He breathes impatiently.

“When you said see you around, I didn’t think you meant in my apartment.”

Here you were; dress falling off your shoulders, wine drunk, and shoving your tongue down Kim Taehyung’s throat. You moan, feeling the power of his manhandling, the sheer, rough carnality to his movements absolutely riveting. You remain shoved up against the door of this high-rise apartment, his knee nestled between your legs as his large hands desperately tug your lips onto his.

“Shut up and kiss me.” You breathe harshly as you dive in for his tongue, impatient with your movements as Taehyung laughs.

Nabi was the instigator, the goddamn game master of this entire play because if it weren’t for her, you wouldn’t be licking into Kim Taehyung’s mouth in his luxurious, 17th-floor apartment at 2AM in the morning.

She’s the one who suggested you all keep drinking her expensive wine, always bringing out another bottle the minute the previous one finished. You didn’t want to make things awkward with Taehyung for the rest of the party, what with him being a quite pleasant man, and a possible, potential friend, so you self-determined your earlier farewell to be temporary.

He joined you, Nabi and Namjoon in keeping yourselves entertained all night, having laughed, joked and hollered together the more progressively drunk you all became. Nabi was always a schemer, honestly, because she knew wine always made you exponentially horny, and you had already been daydreaming of what Taehyung’s lips would feel like sucking on your throat.

You don’t need to imagine it anymore, though, because right now, he popped off your mouth to trail kisses along the edge of your jawline, moaning his name as you desperately tugged at his beautiful locks of nearly-raven hair.

“Fuck, Taehyung..”

“Y/N..”

The way he says your name in his deep voice leaves even more arousal pooling in your panties. His lips skim down the column of your throat as you throw your head back, eventually latching onto your pulse point. He lays tender, slow kisses before wrapping his lips completely around your skin, suckling and licking generously.

Perhaps Nabi isn’t to blame at all when you recall the night. It wasn’t her fault the irreversible sexual tension you and Taehyung had established between each other ever since your conversation. It was lingering, evident, magnetic anytime you two even brushed arms. You didn’t miss the amount of times you caught him already staring at you, that one look of his so alluringly wild; and he could never keep his eyes off the way your legs squirmed anytime he even so much as lowered the tone of his voice.

Hours of painstaking tension later, you were both outside and near his car. You allowed him to show you the upscale features of his Benz as you watched him with arrant horniness. He just seemed so sexy when he was demonstrating something, so caught up in your arousing thoughts, you actually misstepped and nearly fell over.

You didn’t, though, because Taehyung immediately wrapped his arms around your waist to steady you, and the one, hooded-eyed, tipsy look of lust you gave him caused Taehyung to suddenly pull you flush against his body, and crash his lips against yours.

Now, you were both hungrily eating at each other, tasting wine and pure desire on each other’s dancing tongues. Taehyung, shortly after his wet kisses along your neck, pulls you off the door. Shoes and your purse are removed along with jackets, Taehyung swiveling you around to walk you back into his apartment.

You both carefully step back as Taehyung peels off his suit jacket, your hands quickly shredding them off his body too. You trail your red nails all over his chest and torso, nearly angry at his dress shirt, gatekeeping his skin from you. You can feel how deliciously sculpted he is, and it makes your pussy palpitate.

You can’t help the moan that escapes you as he rapidly rips off his tie, disconnecting for a mere millisecond to tug it entirely off until it’s tossed away, grabbing your face once again for messy kisses.

The pair of you waddle far back enough your back contacts the seamless glass all of a sudden, breaking away to observe your surroundings. You breathe harshly as you take it all in.

“Windows…” You mumble, every nerve of yours alight with insatiable arousal; you’re pushed against the floor-to-ceiling windows of Taehyung’s, you had to admit, beautiful apartment. High ceilings, aesthetic light fixtures, a grand, king-sized bed, sleek and minimalistic furnishing.

This definitely looked like the apartment of a wealthy man.

It offers the cityscape as his view, mesmerized by the myriad of lights and moving traffic along the spangly roads, but also, unpreventable openness.

“Are you okay if we’re against them?” He breathes against your mouth, lips brushing each other’s as his palms press against the window either side of your head. He leans down to your height, and the hooded, flaming look in his eyes makes you throw every care for whoever could possibly see you two right now away.

You grab his collar and collide your lips with his, allowing your undeniable horniness for him to consume every fiber inside you.

“Yes, yes Taehyung.” You answer headily, impatiently, and Taehyung immediately engulfs you in an intoxicating, head-spinning kiss once again.

You were thankful to have worn a dress of pretty thin material, moaning into Taehyung’s mouth as he pins his hips against yours, feeling the impressionable, delicious prodding of his hardened cock. You ignite with passionate fire, pressing your chest against his because the rub of your nipples against him feels heavenly.

Tongue swirling around each other, Taehyung glides his hands down your body, feeling every inch, curve and divot of your figure, finally settling around your waist. His large palms feel gigantic, but in a way that leaves you excited about what other things he can do with his hands.

As if reading your mind, they skim down over your dress until he grips your ass, biting your bottom lip as he tugs you closer to his heated body. You release him with a gasp, hands clutching onto his thick neck.

“I thought you said.. you don’t date investment bankers.” He chides, a ghost of a smirk playing onto his luscious lips. You huff hard enough it fans some hair from your face, lungs full of intoxicating, enthralling intensity.

“And you’re not into PhD students,” you snark, flipping your hair out of your face. “And technically, we’re not dating. We’re going to fuck.”

Taehyung immediately hisses with satisfaction. “Damn, a woman who knows what she wants.”

“And a man that finally knows what he’s doing.” You nearly croak as Taehyung’s deft fingers abandon squeezing your ass cheeks to rather slip underneath the skirt of your dress, the sweet taste of his breath kissing the apple of your cheek.

“Trust me, sweetheart, I know exactly what I’m doing.”

His proclamation leaves you keening, at a loss for more air once Taehyung bypasses the band of your panties, and dips right into your sticky, sopping pussy lips.

He hisses once again in pleasure, speaking deeply against your lips. “God, you’re so fucking wet.” The searing cadence of his tone leaves you gushing more essence, gasping when Taehyung boldly cups your sex in his palm, and a pathetic whimper escapes you.

“Fuck…”

“Yeah? You like that?”

Shit, you can feel blood pumping in your ears and adrenaline coursing through your veins. The way you’re turned on right now is fucking unquantifiable. You haven’t felt this insane in a long time, and it only drives you to relish in Taehyung’s crafty touches more, hands hooking onto his shoulders for moral support.

He continues rubbing you just like that, smearing your essence all over his hand as he attentively watches your every reaction, groans rolling off his tongue. You throw your head back against the window once Taehyung weaves two fingers through your soaked folds, gliding up your slit until he fondles your quivering clit. You let out a broken gasp, fingers digging into his sturdy shoulders as he begins a gentle sliding motion over your ocean of a pussy.

“Fuck.. fucking shit, Tae..”

You don’t even notice you’ve uttered a shortened form of his name, only recognizing the slip up when you feel Taehyung breathe a laugh against your swollen lips.

“Shit.. I’m sorry-”

“No, it’s okay.” He just as breathlessly replies, letting out little grunts every time you moan. “Just one thing,” he begins, leaving a wet trail of kisses down your throat until he finds your collarbones, slowly pecking away as his fingers work your pussy like magic.

“I like hearing my name, but I want you to call me Sir.”

Fuck, fuck.

Of course, a man like Taehyung would have something as tremendously sexy as a Sir kink.

The rumble of his deep voice against your throat leaves you mewling out, hugging his head into the crook of your sensitive neck.

“Fuck yes, Sir.” Taehyung lets out a shaky groan that indicates the wave of arousal that washes over him, watching him pull back from you to wet his lips. He squeezes his eyes shut and takes a moment to breathe, using this as your opportunity to observe the city lights casting a soft glow over him.

His lips are just as swollen and wet as yours, his hair disheveled after having wildly tugged at it in the backseat of his car, a chauffeur having transported you two here. One of his top buttons had popped open when you desperately clawed at his shirt too.

He’s sincerely the most stunning man you have ever known.

You also witness the tight tent in his crotch area and are suddenly filled with a fierce sense of confidence.

He currently leans against the window, head hung low as he exhales. But you obstruct his moment of meditation, latching a daring hand onto his belt. With a feline-like grin, you tug him towards you by the Calvin Klein belt, catching a look of surprise from Taehyung.

“Oh fuck..”

“May I, Sir? You deserve some attention too.”

You whisper it so seductively, Taehyung releases a deep groan from the back of his throat, the asking of his permission spiking blood towards his dick. You undo his belt with your flawless, ruby nails, and Taehyung peeks down to watch you do so. He cocks a brow at the skill he sees, observing with a sexy smirk. You tear his belt open and loosen his pants, diving inside his boxers to feel at the beast he’s hiding inside, and dear God, are you in for a fucking treat.

He’s big, and you didn’t expect anything less.

Your surprise seems to capture his attention, feeling the breath of his laugh fan your cheek.

“You’ve got a cute face when you react to things, sweetheart.”

“Thank you, Sir. You’re just so...”

“Big?” Taehyung laughs, and you join him with a chuckle before you traverse further, and find the thick, meaty shaft of his cock. Taehyung folds with a groan as his face dips into your neck, enjoying the delicious sounds of his weakness.

You waste no time in freeing him from his dress pants, Taehyung helping you along and curling his hand around your much smaller one. You both begin pumping him together.

“Fuck..” he curses against your neck, and you conjure up all the willpower possible to not gobble him up like a five-course meal this instant. You splay your fingers over the back of his neck, tugging him closer as your lips envelop his pulse point for tasteful, intimate neck-kissing. You move your hand over Taehyung’s divine length in accordance with his own, guiding you to utilize the speed he likes. It’s so goddamn sexy; you moan against his neck and pump him faster.

He’s leaking incessant pre-cum, but the dryness of his cock leaves you devising other plans, removing your hand. Taehyung huffs as though he’s pulled out of a trance, and before he can ask, you drop to your knees, fingers hooking onto the band of his bottoms.

His pupils nearly physically dilate, eyebrows raising with rampant impression. You shoot him a look from below, eyes dressed suggestively as you tug his garments further down, and wrap a hand around his cock.

Giving him a few pumps, you jut your tongue out to lick a slow, long stripe up the underside of his shaft, meeting his tip to swivel around and catch a heady taste of his pre-cum. Taehyung groans beautifully, bouncing off the walls of his apartment as he throws his head back.

“Fuckkk” he draws out, fingers weaving into your hair for leverage. You moan once his tip is in your mouth, kitten-licking his slit and watching his Adam’s apple bob, the column of his throat enough of a masterpiece to have been crafted by Greek Gods.

He gently thrusts into your mouth once your lips envelop him, sinking down on his engorged, red-tipped member as you hollow your cheeks. He lets out a string of curses once you bury him deep, his tip smothered by the fleshy back of your throat, and he immediately keens.

“Fucking hell, Y/N.. just like that.”

You hum in satisfaction, which causes Taehyung’s blown out eyes to meet you beneath. You maintain eye contact as you draw yourself out, and slowly swallow his thick, veiny length once again. His reactions grow weaker every time, relishing in the power you hold and beginning to bob your head a bit, crafting a pace he seems to like, slobbering all over his erect cock.

He moans, deep-throating once before popping off, a lewd string of saliva breaking. He seems headily into it, boosting your ego, but when you move to drag your tongue across his balls, Taehyung gives you a soft push back, rejecting you.

You furrow your brows and look up at him, puzzled. But before you can ask anything, Taehyung helps you to your feet and crashes his lips against yours, the power strong enough to shove you back up against the window. You breathe in his kiss, swiveling your slipper tongues around each other before he breaks away, saliva prevalent all over your lips.

“I need a taste, too.” He breathes against you, your mind losing circuitry the second his lips meet your throat. He presses electrifying, hot kisses down your neck, the valley of your breasts, your midriff and stomach until his knees fasten onto the ground.

You meet his bewitchingly smug look below you as his fingers travel up the sides of your thighs, casting your skirt away from your pussy to reveal your soaked panties. Taehyung doesn’t waste his time in stuffing his nose against your dampened folds, catching a heady whiff of your essence and letting out a soft hum from the back of his throat. The rumble travels up your core and nestles into the pit of your stomach, knotting the coil inside you as you gush a waterfall.

His fingertips hook onto your panties and tug them off, revealing your nearly sodden pussy to a hungry Taehyung, who wets his lip. Without a single prompt, he locks eyes with you above, and slowly casts your thigh over his shoulder, drawing his face towards your sex and wrapping his lips around your cunt.

The wet contact of his tongue sets you ablaze, skin flushed and hot as your nails scratch at his window, the most erotic of moans spilling from you. He groans the second he catches a taste of you, tongue slithering through your folds as he amply sucks on your labia.

“Shit… you taste sweet as fuck.” His deep voice resonates through your heat, eyes watching him as he stuffs his sexy face between your legs. You sigh obscenely against his window, using it as your only leverage to stay upright as he makes you weak in the knees.

His tongue feels Godly, driving your hips over his face to shamelessly ride, and he welcomes you with an indulgent moan. It’s as though he enjoys his mouth being stuffed full of pussy, and you can’t help but feed into his heavenly work.

Your fingers slot through his locks, tugging at him as intense pleasure overwhelms your system, rolling your hips against his mouth until high-pitched, heightened moans leave your lips. It means you’re getting close, and something about the way the bridge of Taehyung’s nose presses and rubs against your clit works wonders for your building orgasm.

It’s coming, you’re blanking, and he’s eating you so passionately and methodically, you knew this would be your undoing. Your eyes are squeezed shut, reciting a mantra of Taehyung’s name and the hot title of sir that only spurs him on, losing your mind.

“Taehyung, Sir, fuck, fuck!”

His large hands grope your ass as he practically makes out with your pussy, tongue weaving through and around your engorged clit, and just as you grip him with a warning of your coiling orgasm, Taehyung stops.

Air is sucked out of your lungs, peering downwards to breathe erratically.

“Tae, what the fuck-” But you’re met by his lips when he springs to his feet, tasting yourself on his glistening lips as he sloppily makes out with you. He then props you off the window and spins you around, roughly pinning your front against the cool glass as you gasp.

“Tae..”

“Did you just say my name?”

Taehyung then rips open the zipper of your dress and loosens the top enough it’ll inevitably slide down and reveal your bare breasts to the goddamn world. Taehyung wraps an arm around you from behind and cradles your stomach, lips by your ear.

“I thought I told you to call me Sir.”

“Yes, I’m sorry, Sir.” You immediately apologize, the heat of Taehyung’s breath invoking innate submission. “I was… just surprised.”

“Still okay against the window?” He asks.

You bite your lip with a harsh nod, hot arousal heating up your skin.

Taheyung then tears off the top, hiking up the skirt of your dress as he shoves his crotch against yours, hard cock heavy on your ass. His heated breaths fan your ear, Taehyung casting away the hair on your shoulder to access the sweet spot behind your lobe. He kisses tenderly and yet, wildly as he fists his wet cock behind you, lining himself up with your entrance.

“Put it in, Sir, fuck.” You desperately request.

“Condom?”

“Just fucking pull out. I can’t wait.” You wave him off, breaths rampant and needy.

“Mmm, guess doctorates don’t learn patience, huh?”

“And bankers don’t learn haste, fuck me right now.”

Taehyung scoffs, and you want to say something, but when he pushes the bulbous, leaking tip inside you, you both let out harmonious, pleasurable groans that leave your nipples hardening and his dick leaking even more pre-cum.

“Shit… you’re fucking wet, and tight.”

“Fuck, you’re big, Sir. So big.”

Taehyung likes the sound of that because a low growl and his palm fully engulfing a breast later, he’s tugging your hips back to sink himself inside, voice dangerously husky against your neck.

“Do you care about marks?”

“No, not fucking at all.”

And Taehyung dives for your neck like a starved vampire, sucking wet, plum-coloured hickies over your pulse point as he bottoms out inside, filling your pussy up with his throbbing, divinely girthy cock. You moan against the window, nipples perfectly rubbing against the smooth, pristine glass and relishing in the arousal it speckles throughout your nervous system.

Taehyung leaves no room for playing around, and begins slowly thrusting his delicious cock inside your gushing sex, your slippery, welcoming walls smothering his cock with arrant, uncontrollable arousal.

“Fuck.. oh fuck.” Your moan hitches in your throat as Taehyung rides the wave of desperation, of searing, hot passion as he sucks all over your neck. You’re sure he’s going to leave purple blossoms across your skin, but right now, all you can focus on is the way his hips smack against your ass, your hand grappling onto his head dipped into your neck, tugging at his locks as you sigh like a pornstar.

His kisses feel enchanting, his dick magical, and the way he fondles your tit is otherworldly, causing you to become completely lost in the stars you see behind your eyes and the breath-taking cityscape before you.

Carnality overrides your entire body, turning your head to instead request Taehyung’s lips for rough, harsh kissing. Your lips and teeth smash against each other then, absolutely in unison with his hips slapping against you, his hands encasing your torso as he gives it to you from behind like a champ.

“Fuck, Sir.. Oh, fuck me.”

“Yeah? You want it like that?”

“Yes, Sir, oh God.” You grit through your teeth as he pulls back the flesh of your bottom lip, nothing but your breathy moans and groans heard in the sizable apartment.

You reach even further back and begin tugging at the collar of his dress shirt, hating that he’s still wearing fucking clothes.

“Take this off, take this fucking off.” You ramble, Taehyung paying heed to your request within seconds and letting go to peel back his shirt, casting it off before his fingers curl around the hem of your dress.

“Lift up your arms, sweetheart.”

You’re not sure if it’s him calling you sweetheart that makes you so docile and pliant, but you follow his instruction and Taehyung strips your dress off, soon throwing it onto the floor. You’re both naked now, Taehyung having removed his pants and boxers in exchange to feel the heat of your skin.

The warmth of his broad, smooth chest presses against your back, and the new feeling of his body heat causes you to moan indulgently, hands curling against the window. But you don’t have time to think, because Taehyung draws his pulsing length out of your fluttering pussy to turn you around, facing him.

He’s equally as flushed and heated as you are, the gentle city lights exposing the sweaty glow to his dewy skin. Taehyung reaches his hands down for the back of your thighs, and you know exactly what he wants before he even has to say it.

You leap into his arms, hands weaving into the feathered hair on the nape of his neck.

“Let’s get you on my bed, sweetheart.”

Taaehyung leans forwards for kisses, and you meet him for shameless make out as he walks you two towards his grand bed. He doesn’t toss you onto the sheets as though you’re a ragdoll, not that you would mind something like that, but he instead sits himself down with you perched on his lap, disconnecting for air.

You peer down at his cock to make sure he’s still hard, wrapping a hand around him for generous pumps. Taehyung wraps his hand around yours and helps you, both of you fisting him together as his hooded-eyes remain fixated on you, and your eyes glow with sheer desire as you hold his gaze.

You spring up onto your knees and Taehyung pulls his bottom lip between his teeth with a smirk, lining his cock up with your entrance and whispering against your wet lips.

“Ride me like you mean it, doctor.”

You huff at the deliberate emphasis on your future title, scraping your nails down his unblemished chest.

“If you can even make me cum, Mr. Banker.”

Taehyung scoffs, and before anyone can further the argument, Taehyung guides your hips down over his cock, and he invades you for the second time tonight. This position feels eons better; your breasts pressed up against his warm, smooth chest, his cock stretching your pussy wide open. You moan loudly as Taehyung huskily grunts out, who is settled against the headboard of his bed as you grip onto his shoulders.

He entirely spears you over his cock then, and the way he fills you up leaves him impeding on your fucking cervix, letting out a shaky moan.

“Fuck, fuck..”

“You okay?” He asks as a hand clutches your shoulder blade, maintaining his rugged breaths.

“Yeah, just-give me a second.” You breathe through the ache of his intrusion. You can feel him everywhere in this intimate position. Still, the pain feels good, and not long after you peck a kiss on Taehyung’s lips, you nod to him.

“Okay, okay.. you can move.”

Taehyung listens immediately and soothes his hands over your hips, helping you lift them off his crotch until you smash back down over him, a broken sigh escaping you.

“Shit..” Taehyung curses, fingertips gripping your body hard.

You repeat the action, then again, then again and again until you’ve developed a deliciously fast, wild rhythm, Taehyung’s hands slipping over your supple ass to grope and smack to his desire as he fucks you over his cock. He even drives up from underneath, and it leaves you keening, trading his shoulders for the headboard as you clasp on for dear life.

But Taehyung isn't fond of that, grabbing your wrists and weaving them around his neck, eyes wild when he says, “hold onto me, sweetheart.”

You fold, biting back a pathetic moan as she returns to gripping your body in place, impaling you from underneath as you work tirelessly over his thick, elongated dick. You feel so full, so satisfyingly filled to the brim your walls are quaking to release the orgasm he denied earlier, whimpering pitifully.

It’s sinful the way he not only grasps you but slams upwards into your cunt as he presses your hips down, stuffing even your stomach as you cry out against him. Your face falters into his neck, relentlessly irving all over his throbbing cock as the friction against his abdomen supplies you the right rub for your pulsing clit.

Taehyung takes your sudden weakness to mean you’re tapping out, which you are because he’s entirely a beast compared to you. He’s moaning and groaning like a mad man, watching your tits bounce as you repeatedly plummet over his cock.

“Fuck, so gorgeous when you bounce, sweetheart.” He praises with a heady groan when you stuff yourself completely, the confines of your pussy driving him insane. He bites back a string of curses as you sigh erotically, nails digging into his skin, but he doesn’t fucking a mind a single bit.

Your groins and thighs are already burning as your moans heighten in pitch. Taehyung suddenly wraps his arms around to embrace you close, hand splayed in between your shoulder blades as he cradles you and unforgivingly drills into your sex from underneath.

You gasp so loudly, his neighbours are certainly tired of hearing you. You scream and beg, losing your fucking mind as you feel your pussy walls spasming around him.

“Fuck me, Shit, fuck me!”

“Yeah? You want more? Say it!”

“Sir, I need more, please!”

You’re both animals now, holding yourself before Taehyung’s face as he rams into your leaking, slippery sex. Taehyung sneaks a hand over your visibly pulsing mound and supplies you the relief you so desperately need. You release a drawn out, heady moan as obscenely as possible when he does, relishing in the ridges and veins and shape of his delicious cock fucking you wildly as your orgasm approaches, filling up inside your gut.

It coils, your toes curl and your eyes squeeze shut, and your body shakes, legs quaking as Taehyung concentrates on stimulating your clit. He’s hissing and grunting, containing his load almost painfully as he senses your body beginning to convulse.

“Oh shit, you’re gonna cum, huh?” He breathes against you. “Cum for me, sweetheart. I wanna see it.” He finally, stuffs himself so deep inside you, the gates of your impending release burst mightily open.

A whimpering moan erupts from you, and you squeeze Taehyung’s so infinitely tight he begins to panic.

“Fuck, fuck fuck fuck, I’m gonna cum.” Taehyung throatily grunts. “Where do you want it?”

You’re still lost, in a post-orgasm daze as you gush gops of essence all over his violently throbbing dick. You’re only pulled off your cloud nine when Taehyung worryingly taps your breast and alarms you.

“Y/N, I’m gonna cum any second,” he warns you, repeating urgently. “Where do you want it?”

“In my mouth.. in my mouth.” You ramble, hopping off his dick and immediately assuming an all-fours position, sticking out your tongue and wrapping your hand around his pulsing shaft.

Taehyung pushes himself into your mouth and tangles his fingers in your hair, sinking you down on his length. He begins fucking into your throat as heady, unabashed moans and groans leave him, hearing them mellifluously heighten as he nears his high. He rams into your hollowed mouth, fucking it open as he chases his euphoric high relentlessly until his load releases inside your throat.

You moan as his hot seed floods you, tasting his cum for all its sweet glory. Taehyung actually loosens his hand on your head here instead of shoving you down over his length. It confuses you momentarily, but realize he’s presenting you the option of not swallowing if you don’t want to. That sweet sentiment alone drives you to, without hesitation, swallow his cum as plentiful as you can.

Popping off his member with flustered cheeks and heavy breathing, you know your face is a hot mess, meeting Taehyung with hooded, tired eyes as he similarly comes down his high, leaning back on his palms. He wets his lips before cradling your chin in his palm, tipping his own to take a closer look at your mouth.

“Fuck, open.. your mouth.” He breathes, his chest rising and falling as sweat sexily coats his skin. Your lips fall open and reveal an empty mouth, Taehyung adorning a proud side smirk that showcases his teeth.

“Swallowed without hesitation.. you’re nasty.” He comments, and you shoot back just as smugly with a coquettish grin.

“Eating me out and fucking me against a window? You’re kinky.”

He laughs, and you soon join him, giggling together before collapsing face first against his thigh, and Taehyung’s hand lands over your bare back with a huff.

Morning sunlight spilled radiantly into Taehyung’s apartment, welcomed by the bright light reflecting off his white furnishing as you awakened. Eyes fluttering open, you find your head nuzzled against Taehyung’s bare chest, his arm cushioning your body as he loosely clutches you, his face turned away as he sleeps.

You grumble as you’re woken up by the abundance of annoying light, last night’s wild escapade probably too tiring for Taehyung to remember to shut his curtains. Said man also stirs underneath you as you prop off his chest and onto an elbow, watching him rub a heavy eyelid as they blink open.

He turns towards you, and you both sleepily regard each other.

“Fuck, I forgot to shut my curtains, didn’t I?”

His deep, raspy morning voice shocks you, nodding with a sleepy pout, and Taehyung gently laughs as he reaches over towards his night table. He removes the arm underneath you and pries open the first draw, digging around until he pulls out a remote and presses something, to which his blinds begin to cover his windows.

You raise your brows with light surprise, Taehyung returning the remote to plop back down in bed, tucking his hands underneath his head. You hate that it makes his bulky biceps appear meatier.

He shuts his eyes again, desiring to indulge in more sleep, but you feel far too awake now. With a yawn, you entirely sit up, holding his duvet over your naked breasts.

“Are you okay with me making breakfast?” You query, hoping that he is because you’re honestly famished.

He speaks with his eyes closed, voice amused. “If you’re a good cook, then yes.”

You snicker a little, shooting a narrow-eyed look his way. “I’m probably much better than you, investment banker.”

His eyes flutter open to that, watching you with an entertained smirk. “I’ll have you know I make impeccable eggs, professor.”

You roll your eyes. “Please, you’d probably never be able to make them sunny side down the way I like.”

Taehyung suddenly springs up onto his elbows, shooting you a look of genuine surprise, eyebrows furrowed. “Wait, you like your eggs sunny side down too?”

You pucker your lips with a confused chuckle. “Uhh, yeah I do.”

“Sorry, I’ve just.. never met a single other person who likes them sunnyside down instead of up.”

“What? Don’t tell me you also listen to some.. I don’t know.. Dean Martin or Sammy Davis Jr. when you’re cooking them too.”

Now Taehyung entirely rises into a seated position, lips hung open with shock. “Holy fuck… you listen to Jazz too?”

Now it’s your turn to widen your eyes with surprise, both of you replicating each other’s unbelieving looks. “No goddamn way, now if you tell me something like a movie you’ve been looking forward to seeing and it matches mine… we’ll have a situation on our hands.”

“Okay, we’re gonna count backwards from three; tell me the movie’s name.” Taehyung instructs.

“Okay.” You nod, both of you turning towards each other to focus.

“3.. 2.. 1.. Billie Holiday.” Both of you immediately gasp, as though you just had the most shocking revelation of the 21st century.

“No way, this isn’t possible. You have to be lying.” Taehyung becomes disbelieving of your similarities, laughing it off.

“I’m not lying at all, Tae. I have no reason to.”

“I don’t either.”

You both take a moment to soak in the information, until you break out into an ironic laugh. “Fuck, Joon and Nabi were right. We really should date each other.”

Taehyung cocks a brow with a pleased smirk, lazily leaning onto an elbow, and you admire him in his beautiful, shirtless glory. “I thought you said you don’t date investment bankers because you have terrible experiences with them?”

“Eh, last night wasn’t a terrible experience.” You shrug, fluttering your eyelashes and similarly leaning on your elbow like him, mirroring his smile. “I can take a risk or two.”

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