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rec-me-bts · 2 years ago

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WHAAAAAAATTTT I LOVE YOUUU😭💕💕💕

such a great read!! and the plot!!! esp when *spoiler: he mentions its his bday jshjdhkjhs

and the ironic remarks in bw like all fluff and then "the same man whose hands wrap around your throat"- MAAM

loved reading this!!

it's sweet (explicit)

genre: a fluffy lil sickfic

pairing: taehyung x reader

summary: you forgot to call out sick from your dick appointment, but he stays anyway.

word count: 4.3k

contains: no smut just fluff????? new year new me 😎 but as this is fuckbuddies to maybe-lovers and there are certainly a few references in here to sex, because of who i am as a person, it's enough that i'm tagging it explicit anyway lmao. but this is all fluff! reader has the flu, tae is a sweet sweet boi and takes care of her, it's all a bit sappy~ 🤧

A/N: happy new year!!! and a very happy belated birthday to my capricorn prince 💜 this soft little idea got stuck in my brain and wouldn't let go, and i had a lot more fun writing it than expected. plus i feel like i only wrote tae as a menace in 2022 (sorry to tae 👹) so i had to right my wrongs with this one lmao. it was a nice interlude before i jump into LDOMLT ch11 (the final chapter 😭) - i hope you all enjoy and that your 2023s are off to a pleasant start!!!

read on AO3!

~*~

You genuinely enjoy being single.

With your last relationship officially in the trash, you’ve found yourself settled into a comfortable peace. There’s no man in your life to mess up your plans, to force you to have to compromise or share anything, to suck up your energy and domestic labor like some kind of emotional vampire. You can do what you want, whenever you want, and you have a reliable rotation of both sex toys and fuckbuddies to keep you physically satisfied when the need arises.

Being single, you have come to learn, is fucking great.

Except when you get sick.

A knock at your apartment door drags you out of your DayQuil-induced slumber. You move to sit up with a sniffle before letting yourself drop back into your veritable nest of blankets on the couch, struck with the immediate recollection: it’s just the food you ordered. You’d specifically put in a request that they leave it at the door, but maybe the delivery person is just being nice and letting you know it’s there.

Except then they knock again.

And ring the doorbell.

“Jesus,” you groan to yourself, aggressively enough that you’re nearly sent into a fresh coughing fit, but you manage to choke down the spasm in your lungs as you drag yourself to standing. You cross the short distance from your couch to the front door, sure you look like death warmed over, and swing the door open.

At first, you’re certain it’s the DayQuil fucking with you.

“Taehyung?”

The corner of his mouth pulls up as he blinks sweetly at you, expressive almond eyes peeking out beneath untidy dark hair— extra fluffy today, like he’s just washed it and waltzed out of the house without any styling. His clothes tell the same story, a plain gray hoodie and joggers, creased a little like he’d just pulled them off his bedroom floor, though everything looks fresh off the runway on him.

As your eyes trail down his frame, you take in the container of ramen you ordered, held easily in one of his large hands, his long fingers hooking over the side.

His presence is typically a welcome one, particularly on Friday nights like tonight, but those are circumstances where you tend to be a little more… put together. So why is he here tonight?

“When did you start working for D—”

The food delivery service name dies on your tongue as your thoughts finally catch up with your mouth. He’s here tonight because it’s Friday, and this is what you do on Fridays. He’s here because you didn’t cancel. You’d had the thought in a drowsy half-awake state between naps, then had promptly rolled over and pressed your face into the pillow, telling yourself you’d remember to text Taehyung when you woke up.

Which of course, you did not. And so here he is, having clearly intercepted your delivery. And, it now occurs to you, having to witness how absolutely godawful you must look in your stained sweatpants, your hair surely a mess from a day spent napping on the couch.

“Oh fuck,” you mutter, quickly crossing your arms over your baggy t-shirt, suddenly very aware of the fact that you’re not wearing a bra. Why that matters when you’re standing in front of a man who regularly leaves hickeys all over your tits, you’re not sure, but in this moment it somehow feels like it does.

“Tae,” you take a step back, trying to keep him out of your germ radius. “I’m so sorry, I forgot to text you. I’m super sick, I think it’s the flu. You should go.”

He frowns a little, his eyes jumping from you down to the takeout container in his hands. “This is like, barely warm.”

That makes you smile a little despite yourself. A very Taehyung greeting.

“Yeah, well.” You roll your eyes. “I pay twice as much so it can take an hour and be cold by the time it gets here. Makes sense, right?”

His dazzling smile at your sarcastic remark only heightens your own self-consciousness, and you quickly extend a hand for the container.

“Sorry to make you come all this way. Hopefully next week I’ll be back to normal.”

Taehyung nods, yet makes no move to hand over the soup he’s currently holding hostage. “You should rest. Let me heat it up for you.”

You can’t help but wonder what he expects to happen when he crosses the threshold, and that makes you heave a sigh, then quickly bury the cough that chases after it into the crook of your elbow.

Thankfully your voice doesn’t give out when you manage to answer him. “I’m serious, Tae. I’m not—” you pause, considering how to phrase it: desperate to be railed? “—you know, the way I usually am on Fridays. Nothing’s gonna happen tonight. Except maybe you’ll get sick.”

He shrugs, like there are worse things. “I get it. But you shouldn’t be alone.”

At least he’s been sufficiently warned, you think to yourself, and then you relent, leaving the front door of your apartment swung wide as you step back across the living room to promptly collapse onto the couch again. You bury your face in the blankets with a muffled groan as you hear Taehyung shut the door behind him, then make his way into the kitchen.

As is typical with any man that enters your kitchen, you expect to have to walk Taehyung step-by-step through how to do everything. But, to your surprise, he asks no questions: he seems to find a good-sized pot and figure out how to work the stove all on his own, and you can hear him humming softly to himself as he goes.

Truly a credit to the male species, you think to yourself with a bitter laugh.

You collapse back against the cushions, a little too aware of the fuckbuddy in your kitchen to be able to drift off to sleep entirely. Nevertheless, you still find yourself slipping into a haze, your eyes dropping shut just to snap open again at the tap of a bowl being set down on the coffee table in front of you.

Your eyes widen as you sit up and stare down at your ramen, only to find two halves of a soft-boiled egg staring back up at you. You’d ordered from your favorite place in the city, which is easily the best ramen you’ve had in your life, but you know those fuckers charge extra for an egg. Which is why your cheap ass never orders one.

But here one is. So that means…

Taehyung drops down onto the couch next to you before you can even finish compiling the thought in your brain, but he must be able to read the look on your face. “Oh, do you not like eggs?”

“I— no,” you answer quickly. “I mean yes. I mean, I like them, I just… Thank you.”

You glance up in time to see him shrug, his mouth twisting a little, like he’s suddenly made shy by his own kindness. “Gotta get your protein in,” he offers casually, and you laugh over the steam rising up from your bowl.

He keeps a tentative cushion’s distance away from you, but you can feel his eyes watching as you take your first sip of the rich, warm broth. While you slurp it down, you tell yourself not to get greedy with Taehyung’s time: you expect this will be it, that with his act of kindness done for the day, he’ll get to his feet and be on his way. As soon as your front door slams shut behind him, he’ll probably be pulling up his text messages with one of the many other options that must be available to him.

You try to ignore the way that thought makes your stomach twist, to just eat your damn soup and not think about it. It’s fine. It doesn’t matter.

But to your surprise, Taehyung leans forward and snatches the TV remote off your coffee table with a triumphant sigh before slumping back against the couch, like he’s settling in. “Do you wanna watch something?”

You shake your head as you take another sip before answering. “You really don’t have to stay, Tae. I can appreciate that I’m not a lot of fun to be around tonight. And obviously you didn’t come here to watch me eat ramen.”

Already starting to scroll through your streaming services, Taehyung runs his free hand through his hair with a knowing, slightly horny smile. “Depends on what you mean by eat ramen.”

You nearly choke on a noodle, but he’s otherwise distracted, mouth dropping open a little as he clicks into one of the options.

“Oh, I know what we can watch.”

When he pulls up A Charlie Brown Christmas and promptly presses play, you can’t help smirking. “Christmas? You’re, what, five days late?”

Taehyung’s mouth opens again, like he’s going to say something, and then he just smiles that same self-conscious smile. “Ah, I just like the music.”

His long fingers splay out in front of him, miming along to the opening melody while he adopts the faux-cool expression of a jazz pianist. You hide a giggle in another sip of broth, and he quickly shrugs the impression off, crossing his arms over his chest as if to keep his limbs under control.

“And it’s cute,” he adds, voice halfway between shy and sentimental. “The little tree.”

It occurs to you now that you’ve never seen Taehyung so… your brain can’t find the right word. He’s just different tonight.

You nod as you slurp up a strand of noodles, and you can’t deny that he’s right as the movie plays on. It’s been years since you’ve seen it, not since you were a kid, but it’s just as enjoyable now, somehow timeless. You find yourself smiling softly as you finish your meal and settle back against the couch, tugging the blanket up to your chin.

All at once, Taehyung jumps up, and you watch dumbfounded as he silently scoops up your dishes and disappears off to the kitchen. When you hear the tap switch on, your jaw drops in sheer disbelief, and you sit up again, peeking over the back of the couch to get a glimpse of him: he’s pulled on the dishwashing gloves you keep tucked next to the sink and is making short work of not just the bowl and the pot, but the takeout container too, and your various other sick-person dishes you’d regrettably let pile up. Humming to himself along with Vince Guaraldi, like it’s something he does every day.

Your head spins as you drop back down against the cushion. What is happening? Did you take too much cold medicine?

That thought only reverberates louder in your brain when he returns, still humming the last few notes of the song. This time he chooses to settle in right beside you on the couch, as if entirely unconcerned about the contagious virus running rampant in your body— he just pulls you into his side, one arm wrapped over your shoulders, fingertips casually starting to play with the ends of your hair. Like it’s that easy.

You glance up at him, shaking your head a little, and Taehyung looks down to meet your gaze. “What?”

“This is just…” An incredulous laugh cuts off the end of your sentence. It’s hard to believe you’re looking at the same person. This can’t be the man who wraps his hand around your throat as he spits into your mouth, who will keep you in his bed for hours until you’re crying from overstimulation, who fucks you so good you can hardly walk the next day.

“I didn’t expect you to be like this,” you admit, pairing the words with a finger driven gently into Taehyung’s ribs. He squirms a little. “You’re… sweet.”

Taehyung’s lips part, and then he pauses, clearly considering how exactly to answer you. His mouth turns up soft at the corners, hesitant, as if he’s embarrassed to say what comes next. And then he says it. “You didn’t seem like you wanted sweet.”

The words settle over you, offered quietly in the low, rich tones of his voice, and as you keep gazing up at him, it strikes you: he’s not wrong. If he’d pulled this cozy domestic housewife act on you any earlier, on a normal Friday, you would’ve sent him packing without hesitation.

That thought makes you a little sad.

You tuck back in against Taehyung’s side, trying to refocus on the TV screen as you snuggle in under the blanket. Pressed close like this, you can feel the sturdy thud of his heartbeat in his chest, at a rhythm not dissimilar to yours.

“Well, I won’t tell anyone,” you breathe, and you swear you can hear him smile.

His touch lingers as the last few minutes of the movie play on: slipping from the ends of your hair to trace over the fabric of your shirt, then sliding further up to dip beneath the collar of it. The talented fingers you’ve become well-acquainted with work their magic in a new way, pressing firm circles into the muscles of your shoulders, muscles you didn’t realize were pinched so tight until he starts to work them open.

“Fuck,” you murmur, shifting a little to allow him better access as he continues. “That feels so good.” You can’t quite help the laugh that flutters out after your words; it’s certainly not the first time he’s made you say them.

There’s a small huff of breath from Taehyung beside you, and then his hand moves up to cup the back of your neck and give a gentle squeeze. It’s a comforting motion, and just arousing enough to make you sigh a note, your eyes briefly dropping shut. When they flutter open again, you realize the movie has ended, that he’s looking down at you, a knowing smirk toying at his lips.

“Don’t start,” you warn, unable to keep your voice entirely serious. “I meant what I said, I’m tapped out for the night.”

Taehyung raises his palms in the air, as if to claim his innocence, and you find yourself instantly missing the heat of his hand on your skin. “All I was thinking is that I kinda want dessert. Too tapped out for that?”

“I’ll never say no to dessert,” you admit with a soft smile. “I think I have ice cream in the freezer.”

Something glints in Taehyung’s eyes at your words. All at once he untangles himself from you and, rather than standing up and walking the long way around like a normal human, chooses instead to vault himself over the back of the couch, as if to get your freezer as fast as possible. You tip back against the cushions, momentarily overcome with laughter, and thankfully, it doesn’t trigger a cough attack.

After a second, you cocoon the blanket around yourself, then get up to follow after him, dropping unceremoniously down onto one of the barstools tucked on the far side of your kitchen island.

Taehyung glances up, clearly surprised, then continues trying drawers until he finds the silverware and retrieves two spoons.

“Just want to keep you company,” you say by way of explanation as he hands you one, and you reach down to pry off the lid of the pint of chocolate ice cream he’s set down on the counter. It’s only as you glance up again that you realize he’s grabbed something else, too, and is continuing to rummage through your cupboards. “Wait, what are you doing?”

There’s an innocent look on Taehyung’s face as he rights himself, the handle of a pan clutched in one hand. “I found something when I was looking for the ice cream. It’s my favorite. And I thought it might make you feel better, too.”

“Uh huh,” you intone, though your mouth is already starting to tick up, endeared. “A completely selfless act, I’m sure.”

“Of course it is,” he answers with an over-exaggerated wink, flipping the pan cooly in his grip. You squint at the bag as he thuds it down on the counter beside him, then sets the pan on the stove and flips on the burner beneath it.

Hotteok. You’d completely forgotten you’d even picked the bag of frozen sweet pancakes up a few weeks ago, that you had purposefully tucked them into the back of your fridge for a particularly good— or bad— day.

“Chef Kim,” you ask, feigning the tone of a journalist conducting an important interview as you fish your phone out of the pocket of your sweatpants. “Can I interest you in some background music, or do you prefer to cook in absolute silence?”

Taehyung glances back over his shoulder at you, his grin nearly too big for his face. “How about Sinatra?”

You raise one eyebrow at the admittedly unexpected suggestion. “Frank or Nancy?”

He pauses for a moment, as if considering. “Either.”

It’s only a few taps, and then Come Fly With Me is floating out of your Bluetooth speaker, and Taehyung is singing along to himself as he drops a frozen disc onto the heated pan, occasionally turning back to deliver lines to you with an extended hand.

You roll your eyes as you drag your spoon through the top layer of softening ice cream, sucking it into your mouth in an attempt to hide the grin that’s spread over your face.

By the third song you find yourself humming along too, trying not to put too much strain on your still-weak throat. The kitchen has started to smell of sweet, toasted dough as Taehyung works diligently at the stove, and he finally flips the burner off before turning back to you, a plate in each hand and a thick pancake stacked atop each plate.

“Sous chef, will you please apply the ice cream?” he asks, eyes wide and blinking as he sets the dishes down.

Quickly playing along, you nod as you begin to scoop a healthy amount onto each plate. “Yes, chef!”

“And sous chef, do you, uh… have any chocolate sauce?”

You bite back a laugh as his roleplay falls apart as quickly as it began. “It’s in the fridge.”

Taehyung promptly turns and pulls the door open, eyes searching the shelves before he finally spots the dark brown bottle and lets out a triumphant hum. He nudges the fridge shut again with his hip before striding back toward you.

“Plating is key,” he muses. You answer with an appreciative nod and a giggle when he uncaps the sauce, then leans down close to the plates, feigning intense focus as he drizzles each dollop of ice cream with stripes of chocolate.

Once his artful design is complete, he steps back, his tongue toying at the corner of his mouth as he spins one plate to admire his handiwork.

“What do you think, chef?” you tease, and he nods once, decisive.

“It’s perfect.” He glances up, shooting you a grin that knocks the breath from your lungs, and you try to collect yourself as he nudges a plate toward you, encouraging you to take a bite.

You carve your spoon through the pastry, right down the middle where it’s stuffed full of sweet brown sugar syrup. The flaky layers pull apart at the impact, warm enough that you can see steam rising off of the golden dough. You pair a small piece of pancake with a wedge of ice cream on your spoon, then bring both into your mouth at once, and the contrasting mixtures linger on your tongue: hot and cold, sticky sugar chased by rich chocolate. It’s so good that you can’t help but make a soft, appreciative noise as you press your hand to your mouth and chew.

“Do you want to know something?” Taehyung’s voice pulls your attention back, and you look up at him.

“What?”

“Today’s my birthday.”

There’s a split second where you wonder if this is another imagined scenario, and then your eyes widen as you take in the look on his face and realize he’s entirely serious.

“Wait, Taehyung, really?”

He nods once, bringing a spoonful of ice cream to his lips.

“I-I had no idea,” you stammer, suddenly feeling like an asshole. His birthday, and he’s here waiting on you hand and foot, while you haven’t so much as said a word of felicitations. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry.”

As soon as the words leave your mouth, he’s waving away your apology with his spoon, then proceeding to answer around his bite of food. “It’s not like I expected you to know. I don’t really make a big deal of it.” He shrugs. “I tend to… I don't know. I get sort of melancholy this time of year. The holidays, my birthday. It’s a lot all at once. A lot of pressure. To be happy. To have everything figured out.”

Nodding slowly, you let his words fully wash over you before you respond. “I get that,” you finally murmur, working off another piece of hotteok. “Nobody ever talks about it, but I feel like birthdays are kinda weird as an adult. You have enough of them and it just starts to feel like a day, you know? Not special.”

“I usually find myself just hiding out, waiting for it to be over,” Taehyung admits.

You take a second to think back. “Yeah. I didn’t even do anything on my birthday this year.” A self-pitying laugh rises up before you can stop it. “Honestly, this whole year was such a flop. I’m glad it’s nearly done.”

Taehyung makes a face like he can’t disagree. “Hey, sometimes that’s life.” He pauses, brow furrowing slightly, then reaches a palm across the table. “Can I play a song?”

“Go ahead,” you offer, pushing your phone into his hand. You scrape your spoon along your dwindling dessert, and haven’t even managed to bring the assembled bite to your mouth before the music changes— from one Frank Sinatra song to another, this one with a driving blues rhythm.

Taehyung is already on his feet, hips starting to sway. “Ah, come on. You have to dance with me.”

He’s closed the distance between you before you can even protest, his hands smoothing across the blanket still wrapped over your shoulders.

“Let me take your coat, ma’am.”

You shift off the stool and onto your feet with a smile as he unwraps the blanket from around you and tosses it toward the back of the couch, missing by at least a foot.

“Why thank you,” you tease, feigning some kind of Transatlantic lilt to your voice that makes him really laugh. “Such a gentleman.”

Taehyung turns to face you again, and then you feel his large hand pressing to the small of your back, warm even through the fabric of your shirt, and your heart stutters a little. You take his other hand in yours and let him lead, let him pull you all the way in until you can turn your head and press your cheek to the firm plane of his chest.

Frank Sinatra croons on about how you can’t let life get you down, and suddenly there’s a weight settling in the pit of your stomach.

“I feel bad, Taehyung,” you admit, and when you glance up at him, he’s looking right back down at you. “That you’re here with me tonight.”

“Why?” he asks, like he really doesn’t know.

“Because,” you shake your head. “I don’t know. There’s a million better places you could be. I can’t even give you birthday sex.”

“I wouldn’t have stayed if I didn’t want to,” he answers simply, then leans back, guiding you under his arm for a spin.

A little giggle bubbles up in your chest, catches on the first syllable of your reply as you twirl. “A-are you sure?”

Taehyung nods, thoughtful, when you come back to center again. “This is a good reminder that… I like taking care of people. It’s been a while since anyone’s let me.” The hand holding yours gives a gentle squeeze, and you can’t help but squeeze back.

“Well, thank you for taking care of me,” you answer softly. “You did a good job. Pretty sure I’m on the mend already.” You blink up at him through your lashes, and the way his eyes are fixed on you makes your heart squeeze, too.

It’s nearly overwhelming, taking him in like this, close enough that you can see every stray beauty mark kissed over his handsome features. Fluffy-haired, big-dicked Kim Taehyung— who would’ve thought?

Taehyung’s adam’s apple jerks in his throat as he swallows, and you feel a sudden rush of heat all over, one you don’t quite think you can blame on a fever. It hardly even occurs to you that the two of you have come to a complete standstill now, barefoot in the middle of your kitchen, Taehyung’s palm pressed to your back, the fingers of your joined hands now shifting to lace together.

“Taehyung,” you’re breathing his name before you even realize it. “Would you… want to stay here tonight? Like, sleep together, literally?”

The smile that flashes over his face is nothing short of brilliant. “Yeah, okay.”

Your voice dips a little lower, teasing, as you smile back. “I really do think I’m feeling better, so. Maybe in the morning I can take care of you, too.”

Taehyung’s fingers brush the length of your jaw, then reach up to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear as you continue.

“I’ve got this spray that makes my throat totally numb, so.”

He pauses, his mouth so close to yours that you can feel his breath ghosting over your skin, but he can’t quite keep a straight face. “Fuck, why is that so sexy?”

You’re laughing against his lips when he kisses you.

#bts #kthf #kth #it's sweet

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rec-me-bts · 2 years ago

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...

lots of emotions in here

totally love the buildup. the tension, and ofc. soft dom tae😩

tOTALLy idiots to lovers😂💗💗

such a rom com read; a hot one tho. i loved this.

Seoul Town Road | kth (m)

pairing ↠ horseback riding instructor!taehyung x reader (f. reader) genre ↠ college!au; idiots to lovers; light fluff; pwp; crack. summary ↠ having a sore ass on a Saturday after spending a day riding with Taehyung is nothing like you anticipated. rating ↠ +18 | minors DO NOT interact warnings ↠ tae was supposed to be a himbo, but reader is the stupid one; ig this doesn’t qualify 100% as reader insert, the reader is very black coded, but it’s still vague enough; jimin’s a lil shit; reader likes keke palmer (‘cus of good taste ofc ��🏽); reader is in denial; bickering; crying, but not the way you think; i make one joke about being in the closet so there’s that; taehyung’s hands 😩; there’s an innocent massage that turns sexual; explicit smut: super soft dom!taehyung, a LOT of praise kink, teasing (i can’t help myself), begging (borderline desperation), light dirty talk, body worship, tit play, fingering, unprotected sex, slow sex and that’s a WARNING, brief oral sex (m. receiving), cum eating. word count ↠ 8.5k note ↠ hey, y’all 🤠 i’ll casually pretend this didn’t take forever for me to finish and that i haven’t vanished on the meantime, so let’s not talk about it *clears throat* ok, so… it all started with this video, then i saw this, and here we are. also, pls ignore the corny ass title, it was provisional until i couldn’t come up with anything better, then it suddenly wasn’t. note² ↠ always need to thank @uarmymoonlight for being the most precious being ever and helping me outline and organize my thots on this one, ily 🤟🏽 note³ ↠ also, thank you @badgalsgetinfree again for making me this beautiful! banner 🥺 you’re really talented and i appreciate you! and thank you @eoieopda and @namjinsmoonchile for beta reading this and taking their time to make sure this wasn't complete shit lol

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It seemed like a really good idea at first. And, granted, it was almost fun: Taehyung’s firm grip on your hips and that large palm warming your thigh was definitely something, but goddamnit if your butt isn’t sore as fuck.

Now, here you lay, ridiculous groans muffled by the soft fabric of your comforter as you try to balance a hot water bag over your hurt ass. And the worst part? He seemed so unimpressed. Meeting your eyes with nothing but amusement at your pathetic riding attempt.

That settles it. You’re never horseback riding again.

“For the record, I think you’re being pathetic about this,”Jimin says.

“Shit, I think the pain must be affecting my memory too, ‘cus I don’t remember asking you a damn thing, man.”

He rolls his eyes, reclining on the chair.

“I don’t need your permission to tell you that you’re being stupid.”

“Well, then I choose to ignore you.”

He huffs. “You’re impossible sometimes.”

“Then give up already.”

“Girl, just look at you. You have a water bag on your ass and you haven’t even fucked the guy.”

“You know what, maybe I just like the warmth.”

“Stop being stubborn. I bet Taehyung would be more than down to fuck you.”

You groan, burying your face in your comforter. “It’s not that simple.”

“Except it is.” He lets out an exasperated sigh. “You’ve fucked everyone you’ve met, what’s so different about him?”

“Are you slutshaming me?”

Jimin takes a deep breath.

“I’m shy-shaming you for not fucking the guy you’ve been pining over for the last six months. Quite the opposite.”

“I’m not pining. I do not pine.”

“Right, ‘cus you always wanted to learn how to ride a fucking horse.” He rolls his eyes.

…

Yeah, you don’t really have an answer to that.

To be honest? You didn’t even know horseback riding instructor was a real job. Much less that there is a stud farm near campus that offers part-time slots for college students that are too broke to care about employment rights. But then, Taehyung used his first paycheck to gift Yoongi an overpriced craft whiskey for his birthday and buy Jimin an original Celine sneaker for their “wonderful six months of friendship” — being a perfectly good example of why, even employed, college students stay broke.

Add that piece of knowledge to an ungodly amount of alcohol and you wake up to months of avoiding major embarrassments shattered by a “hoe much 4 u 2 teacj mr how 2 ridw?” text. And sure, you could’ve just dismissed it, said you were drunk or whatnot — but you were completely sober when you confirmed the date. The messages you exchanged after were pretty tame. He told you he could give you a free first lesson (“you’re a friend!”), explained to you how it worked, arranged some riding clothes for you and asked if Saturday was a good day. It wasn’t. But fuck it, you made it work.

It’s not like you and Taehyung never hung out. As far as he was concerned, you were friends. You drink together, you tease him, he sometimes teases you back, but never just the two of you. Never after you accidentally called out his name in bed two months ago — resulting in a pretty pissed and unremarkable hookup and a new feeling to shove to the dark corners of your mind until it finally disappeared.

Except it never did. And then, before you knew it, you were taking forty minutes to choose what underwear to use at a goddamn stud farm (you went with lace, by the way — you never know).

The class itself was terrible. Taehyung had to prioritize the hundreds of kids with cowboy hats whose parents had actually paid to be there, so it took around two hours for him to finally remember you were there too. He then introduced you to a pretty horse, told you her name was Princess and you allowed yourself to pretend that every call of her name was aimed at you.

“Listen,” Jimin’s voice pierces through your thoughts. “I’ll give you some tough love now, so pay attention and just stop being nasty with me. I’m on your side here.”

“... Okay?”

“You’re my best friend, and I know you have that weird ‘the shittier the better’ philosophy going on, and I can’t change that. But if you’re not doing anything about your crush, then stop acting weird around him, ‘cus I’m sure he’s noticing. Just… I don’t know, put your big girl pants on, accept that you’re into the guy and move the fuck on.”

“I’m not in—” your rebuttal dies in your tongue at the glare Jimin directs at you. You scoff. “Whatever.”

“Have you talked since yesterday?”

“No.”

You're lying, of course. Earlier that morning you got a little consolation prize.

[08:48am] taehyung 🥵🐎: yesterday was nice! it's been a while since i taught an actual adult lol

[08:50am] taehyung 🥵🐎: how was is for you?

[09:11am] you: it was nice

[09:32am] you: i’m sore af now, tho 💀

Hours later and your text stood unanswered — making the twenty minutes you spent overthinking it even more pathetic.

Jimin narrows his gaze.

“You didn’t say anything stupid, right?”

Well.

“Depends on your definition of stupid.”

“Something like saying he smells really good for a vet major.”

You groan. “I said that once, and it was meant as a compliment.”

He offers you a pointed look. Eyebrows raising just slightly as if to say “I rest my case”, before a notification lights up his phone.

“How’s your butt?”

You welcome the change in subject.

“Better.”

“Good. I have to go now.” A small smile tugs on his lips. “Have a date.”

“Ohhh” you smirk teasingly, “on your way to win someone’s heart?”

“You bet.”

“Nice. Have fun, Chim.”

“Thanks. I’ll call you later.” He gathers his things and places a kiss on the top of your head. “You know I love you, right?”

“Yeah. Love you too.”

“Great.” He steps out of your dorm, glancing at you one last time and saying “stop being stupid”, before leaving your room.

Jimin clearly overestimates you.

The next hour is spent with occasional reheatings of the bag and apprehensive checks of your phone — and it doesn’t take long until Jimin’s words spark a frustration deep inside you.

You know what? You’re not into Taehyung. No. Absolutely not. No way.

You pride yourself on being on control of shit like this, with a terrible and meticulous track record of only fucking people you pick up from trash — bonus points if they treat you like shit afterwards to ruin any sparkling possibility of feelings.

Actually, coming to think of it, it’s probably just his kindness that gets you confused.

…

Of course, it could also be his eyes.

Or his deep voice.

Shit, but there’s also that boxy smile, tho…

Ugh.

Fuck Jimin and his preposterously hot friend. And fuck whoever is knocking on your door at such a vulnerable time.

You groan into your pillow, deciding in no time not to answer it; the bag on your butt too warm to give up for that weird ass finance major from the first floor that’s still trying to get you to invest in his crypto currency or whatever the hell that powerpoint meant. Besides, you look like shit, and you ain’t gonna let—

Your thoughts are interrupted by your ringtone. Normally, you’d patiently wait for whoever’s calling to give up and text you instead, like a decent fucking person, but when you grab your phone and Taehyung’s name flashes on the screen a surge of panic runs through your body. Before you can even process what you’re doing, your fingers move to decline the call.

You drop your phone on the bed. Staring it down for a full minute before impulsively reaching for it and hitting the call button under Taehyung’s contact.

He picks up after the first ring.

“Did you just hang up on me?”

“Yeah, I did.”

“Damn. Cold.”

“Why are you calling?”

“Wanted to ask you something real quick. You live in Bang Si-hyuk Hall, right?”

“You could’ve just texted me for that.”

“Do you?”

“Yeah.”

“Second floor, dorm thirteen right?”

“Uh, yeah.”

“Right. Are you home?”

“Yeah?”

“Great! Can you open your door?”

“Huh?” God, you’re so eloquent.

“I’m here.”

“No, you’re not.”

“Pretty sure I am. Here, let me just—” another knock hits your door, “hear that? That’s me.”

You gasp, immediately jumping off the bed and fighting to stifle the subsequent groan at the way your bottoms sting with the abrupt movement.

“Shit–I, uhm, wait a sec.” You say, before ending the call.

Your face is all puffy from being pressed on the pillow the whole day and you’re still wearing your pajamas. You control the urge to cry at the prospect of Taehyung seeing you like this, seeking some sort of consolation as you run your fingers over your eyebrows, in a feeble attempt to make something look presentable.

You cross the space to your door, quickly scrunching your hair before opening it.

“Hey,” he smiles. When the universe created Kim Taehyung, there was no mercy, because how on Earth can a man look this fucking good? And as his deep eyes fix on your chest, you can feel your brain trying to come up with its own syntax. “Where the hell did you get this from?”

You follow his gaze, landing on your less than flattering cropped pajama top that says “some people ride the crazy train, I drive that bitch”. You grimace.

“Why? Not to your taste?”

“You know what? You’re almost pulling it off.”

“Almost? This is my best look.” You sure hope not. “Besides, I feel like it encapsulates my crazy bitch personality.”

“Sure.” He chuckles, and his attention is on your face again. “So, I’m sorry for coming unannounced. I saw your message when I left work and I… well,” he reaches behind him, fumbling on his backpack before he reveals a small pharmacy bag “thought I could be of help.”

Your stomach flips. A perfectly normal reaction to a friend buying medicine and coming all the way to another friend’s place after seeing they were in pain.

“I just felt bad, I guess.” He continues when you just keep staring at his face — that beautiful, sculpted face of his. “I forget how painful it is to ride for the first time and I didn’t give you proper aftercare instructions.” Did those words actually leave his mouth? “Can I come in?”

Admittedly, there were some horny nights with some thirsty thoughts — but in none of your fantasies your hair had this much frizz when you let him in your place alone for the first time, so you immediately shake your head.

“It’s okay, you don’t have to. You’re probably tired from work and all.”

“No, really, it’s no heat. I know how bad the pain is. I used to be sore as fuck all the time, so I learned just how to deal with it.”

…

You mean… he did come all this way to provide some assistance, and you’re not rude — not all the time at least. So you step aside to give him room to enter, closing the door once he does.

Taehyung’s eyes roam around your room, and after some seconds of quiet inspection, he regards you with a frown. “Thought you had a Keke Palmer poster.”

You mimic his confusion.

“What?”

“Pretty sure you said you had one when we watched Nope.”

You take a few seconds to understand what he’s talking about, but eventually Hobi’s ridiculous attempt at making movie nights a thing a couple of months ago returns to you.

“Damn, you remember that? Obsessed much?” You tease, prompting Taehyung to roll his eyes.

You’re grinning when you step in front of your closet, slowly bending to grab the large Keke Palmer Glamour cover that you printed out months ago.

“Oh. You keep it in the closet?”

“It builds character.” You turn to show it to him. “Also if I so much as stain the wall, I have to pay a fee.” You pout. “But I only found out after spending a shit ton of money to get this laminated and framed, so.”

“I can hang stuff in my apartment.” He shrugs.

“Congratulations. Wanna tell me how nice it is to have an individual bathroom too?”

“No, I’m just sayin’... you could hang it there.”

“What, you like Keke Palmer now? You haven’t even watched True Jackson.” If this man had a flaw, that was definitely it.

“I mean, we could watch together. We never do anything just the two of us.”

Yeah, well, no shit.

“That’s ‘cus you annoy the hell out of me.” Which isn’t 100% wrong. “Besides, we just rode horses together, my sore ass is definitely a testament to that.” You turn to place the poster back. “Which reminds me. What about the drugs you were going to give me?”

“Here,” he reaches for the pharmacy bag again, pulling out a pain relief plaster from it, “this is the best one I’ve found, and it doesn’t have any major side effects or anything...” he pauses. “You aren’t pregnant and shit, right?”

“And shit?”

“Like… suspecting?”

“Not really.”

“Then we should be safe.”

“Damn. You ain’t sure?” You laugh anxiously.

“... ‘Course I am.”

“You hesitated.”

“I used this before, and I’m fine.”

“You can’t really get pregnant, though, can you?”

“Thought you said you’re not pregnant.” He narrows his eyes.

“That’s not the point.”

He grimaces.“People from work use it. And some of them can get pregnant, so… you’ll be fine. Don’t you trust me?”

“Not at all.”

“Great, then.” He smiles and you can’t help smiling back. “Where’s hurting?”

“Basically my back and legs… also my butt, but I ain’t sticking patches there.”

He nods. “Seems fair.”

Taehyung’s attention shifts to your bed.

“Mind laying down for me?”

You swallow the urge to vomit.

“Sorry?”

“It’s easier if I apply them for you. If you place them wrong they won’t work properly. Besides, it’s probably better if we don’t use a lot, for…” he darts his eyes away, “safety concerns, in case you ever want to pop some kids out.”

Yeah.

It makes sense, right?

“Okay.” You narrow your eyes. “But no funny business, mister.” You say, like a fool.

He raises his palms in surrender, before helping you climb the bed carefully. You shift a bit, pulling the hem of your shorts lower over your ass as you lay on your stomach.

“Show me where it hurts.” He fishes for a patch inside the package.

You extend your hand to hover over your lower back and then point generally to your thighs.

“No, show me where it hurts the most. I can’t put these everywhere.”

“There’s not a single place, Taehyung.” You scoff. “I barely got up from bed this morning.”

“Fuck, I’m sorry. Didn’t know it was that bad.”

“Yeah, well, I’ll never horseback ride again— by the way, why it’s horseback riding? Where else would I ride?” You shake your head.

“Fuck if I know. Also, the pain is just because you’ve never done it before. The more you ride, the more accustomed you get. Like… like sex!”

Yeah, you’re not having this conversation with him.

“Just put the damn patches, man.”

“Wait, let me think.”

“God, this will take some time.”

“Shut up.” He goes quiet for a moment, and you turn to find him looking at your bottom with his hand on his chin. Not flattering, really. “Let me give you a massage.”

You can only hope that he can’t see the way you shiver as the words leave his mouth.

You laugh.

What.

“What?” You voice, twisting to look at him.

“It’ll help to relieve the pain, then we can see the best spot to place the patches.”

“You just wanna touch my butt,” you can only hope you don’t sound as desperate as you feel.

He chuckles.

“You wish.” Fuck, you kinda do. “But I’m serious, it’ll be good to soothe it. Also, my messages are pretty good.”

You won’t do this.

You shouldn’t do this.

…

No, really, you shouldn’t do this.

But then again… you and Jimin have given each other a bunch of massages before. Even Namjoon had given you some proper kneading before, and it was no big deal. This is just a friend helping out another friend who happens to be in pain.

…

Yeah, maybe Jimin’s right. Maybe you are stupid, and maybe you do stupid things when it comes to Taehyung.

“Whatever.” You return to your previous position, resting your cheek on your palms on the bed. “You better be good at this.”

“I’ll make you feel so good, you’ll want nothing more.” He taunts, and you’re afraid he might be too right on that one.

You and Taehyung have touched before. He’s a cuddler, so occasionally you fall victim to his hugs. He’s also been beside you in the backseat of Yoongi’s car one too many times, pressed together as you try to make room for Jimin’s thick ass. There was also that time you fell on top of him when you all went to a water park and he stood at the bottom of the slide — like a dumbass —, but even then it was mostly your foot on his face.

So now, as his large palms find the bare skin of your waist, exposed by your cropped top, it’s like the first time you’ve ever been touched.

But the feeling is short-lived, as Taehyung immediately pulls his hands away.

“Are my hands cold?”

“No?”

“You got goosebumps.”

“Oh.” You chuckle awkwardly. “It was kinda sudden.”

“Sorry.” He pauses. “I’m going in, then.”

You sigh when the weight of his palms returns to your waist, and Taehyung chooses to ignore the way your body still shivers while his feather-light touch travels over your lower back.

“You comfortable?”

“Yes.”

He hums and you close your eyes.

He gradually starts to add more pressure, digging into your skin and eliciting a quiet grunt out of your lips when he kneads on a particularly sore area.

“Sorry” he stops briefly, “this will probably hurt some, but let me know if it gets too much.”

Months of one sided sexual attraction are enough to make his five minute touch already too much. And you know this ain’t looking good. Not with the way your body receives this as if it’s some kind of tantric experience. You can already feel heat spreading under your skin while his hands get familiar with your back, and you’re definitely way more tense then you should be — but you do your best to force your mind out of the gutter and try to enjoy this friendly massage.

And to be honest, he’s actually really good at this.

His hands work in a disarming rhythm. Hard pressure unwinding your sore spots, only to return with soft and delicate caresses whenever your pain announces itself. He pays attention to every inch of your hips, charting the flesh with the utmost care and determination, and making it impossible for you to hold grunts and soft sighs of relief — which, despite bringing a tingling heat to your face, only seem to spur him on.

As his fingers trace every line of your lower back and ease pains you didn’t even know you had, it doesn’t take long for you to allow yourself to relax, and it’s no surprise when your mind wanders. It wanders with simple, yet agonizing questions, such as how those palms would feel in other parts of your body. Nothing too daring, just…

… on your neck, untying the knots you sure have there too, or…

… or on your shoulders, kneading the tense areas…

… but maybe your thighs too, caressing their soft, tender skin…

… and maybe a bit higher, in between them too.

You’d never admit it out loud, but for a moment, while your waist is so attentively being touched by him, you pretend that this whole shallow breathing, overthinking and nauseating butterflies thing isn’t one sided, and that his hands aren’t just soothing a pain he feels somewhat responsible for, but rather claiming your skin, like you have wished he’d do, caring for your body as if it’s his to care for.

“You good?” He asks, and you feel intoxicated by his quiet voice sounding from above you.

You hum softly. “Feels good.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” You sigh.

“Nice. Can I massage your thighs too?”

Of course you nod. How could you not? Nevermind your thighs are sensitive as fuck. Nevermind the telltale longing you feel as soon as his hands leave your back. What minds, though, is the welcoming warmth of when they find your legs. The delicate and hesitant contact is enough for you to suck in a sharp breath, firmly grasping the comforter beneath your hand.

His palms are as purposeful as they were on your hips, easing the soreness and softening the flesh, while being careful not to surpass or even brush the limit of your shorts — but holy fuck how you wish he would. You wish he would just read your mind and feel as electrified by your skin as you feel by his, because you know — you just know that you’re melting way too fast, tight grip on the bed getting more useless by the minute, and you don’t even notice when your reasonable grunts and sighs turn into breathy whimpers and mellow moans.

But Taehyung notices. Hands hesitating before finally coming to a full stop and parting from your skin when a brush in the hem of your shorts prompts a wanton moan to fall from your lips.

You groan at the loss, your glazed over eyes making you oblivious to his hooded ones as you lift yourself on your elbows to better face him.

“What’s wrong?”

“Uhm,” his eyes flicker to your pouting lips, “maybe we— I think we should stop…” he clears his throat. “Yeah. We should stop.”

“Why?” You frown, cautiously turning to sit up straight.

He rehearses an answer a couple of times, opening and closing his mouth exasperatedly, before deciding to not give a fuck to be coherent. “‘Cus— god, you are–you” he runs his hands through his hair, before chuckling humourlessly “shit, you’re driving me fucking insane,” he blurts, squeezing his eyes shut.

“What?” You mutter, not keeping up with the fact that Taehyung’s having a mental breakdown right now.

“You seriously need to ask?” Is he… angry at you right now? “God, you just— shit, sound so fucking hot, you sound like heaven, and touching you is making me all… I don’t even know, I’m not–I can’t think right now, shit, do you have any idea how soft your skin is? Just fucking look at yourself. Your bod–you’re just so beautiful and I’m touching it like it’s not making me fucking horny as hell, and I know we’re friends and shit, but god you’re just…” he finally breaths before noticing your wide eyes and agape mouth. “Shit, I’m— fuck, I’m sorry, I’ll just leave, sorry for whatever the hell this was, please don’t tell Jimi—”

It’s only when Taehyung starts to step back that you snap out of your own head.

Shit.

Jimin is right.

“Taehyung” you reach for his wrist, “shut up.”

“No, but I’m—”

“I don’t want you to stop.”

For a second he looks just as helpless as you feel.

“What.”

“Taehyung,” you stare deep inside his eyes, “keep touching me.”

He blinks, but steps closer to the bed again.

“What are you saying?”

“Damn, boy, do I have to spell it out for you?” You tease, but the neediness is evident in your tone.

His expression softens immediately and he chuckles — somewhat incredulous, somewhat relieved —, drawing his tongue along his bottom lip as he allows his eyes to trail over your whole body, traveling over your chest, then down your legs, before he’s returning his attention to your lips.

Not a single hint of hesitancy veiling his actions anymore.

He steps closer, placing one of his knees on the bed and leaning over you. His hand cradles your jaw, softly tracing the skin. You can feel his breath fanning over your face, and you promptly close your eyes, anticipating what his kiss would feel like.

“Wanna hear you say it.” He whispers against your ear. “Tell me what you want, baby.”

Your mind spins at the pet name, his deep voice lacing it with the purest of honeys as you feel excitement tightening every muscle in your body.

“Taehyung, I…” you swallow thickly, feeling his pillowy lips touching your cheek “I want you.”

You sigh.

“Please.”

And then, his touch leaves your face, and you open your eyes, confused.

He stares at you with desire blanketing his eyes. A small smile crosses his lips before he opens his mouth again.

“Lay back down on your stomach for me, then.” He smirks. “Let me finish your massage.”

You return to your previous position in a heartbeat, expecting Taehyung to do the same, but as soon as you’re comfortable — or as comfortable as one could be while this tense — his legs circle your body and he straddles your thighs, knees framing your hips.

“This ok?” You nod, whispering a quick affirmative. “Tell me if that changes, I can’t see your face.”

“Okay.”

This time, when Taehyung touches you, he traces your skin as one would the finest porcelain, fingertips traveling through the expanse of your back as if trying to memorize each and every inch of it. But he doesn’t avoid reaching higher now, palms raising your top slightly before feeling his way along your sides and down to your ass.

He molds the flesh under his palm, but freezes when a soft squeeze prompts a hiss out of your lips.

“Shit, sorry, you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m okay.” You say immediately.

“Right.” He hesitates. “Also, please let me know if I hurt you at any point.” You nod, but he still doesn’t continue. “Tell me you understand.”

“I’ll let you know if you hurt me at any point.” You assure, wiggling your hips a little. “Now, please.”

He chuckles. Your eyes flutter shut as soon as his touch finds your legs, thumbs grazing the sensitive skin of your inner thigh and you feel like you’re learning how to breathe all over again.

The pleasure he’s eliciting from your body is so profound it’s almost worrisome, and it’s all you can do not to get too much in your head, because you’ve never been touched like this before.

Like, yeah, sure, you could’ve guessed Taehyung’s hands were sinful, or that some deep-buried pent up emotion would make the knot in your stomach that much more delicious, but you don’t think you could’ve dreamt with how easily he’s able to read your body, working you up at an alarming speed as his patient but insistent touch make you feel like one of those white mystical bitches who cum on camera with that tantric bullshit you’ve laughed about before.

If it weren’t for the way your panties are soaking wet already, uncomfortably sticking to your pussy, and for the weight of his body above you, you’d sure be blaming this on some weird sex dream you’d rather never acknowledge.

But as much as you’re enjoying it — and somewhat surprised at his patience —, it doesn’t take long before you start squirming under him, begging for something more intimate.

“Taehyung,” you sob, “more.”

“Shit, you sound so needy. Nothing like the bad bitch I know.”

“Taehyung,” you hiss, and it’s supposed to be a reprimand, but he only chuckles.

“Don’t get me wrong, though, I fucking love it. Love to know I’m the one making you feel like this.”

You ignore the way his tone makes your brain stop for a full second before you wiggle down, trying to near his hand to where you need him the most, but his hold is firm on your thighs.

“Shit, don’t tease me.” You cry.

Taehyung clicks his tongue, body leaning forward to press down on your back before his lips find the shell of your ear.

“I don’t think you understand what’s gonna happen here, baby” how is Taehyung’s voice so fucking hot, god, this can’t possibly be fair. “If you want this, you’ll have to behave and listen to me.” His hand finally moves, and a strangled moan falls from your lips when his thumb finds your pussy through the thin fabric of your shorts. “Can you do that?” His lips tease the skin below your ear. “Can you be a good girl for me and let me take care of you?”

Jesus fucking Christ.

Why does he sound so calm? And why do you feel anything but?

“Yes,” you mutter under your breath, and Taehyung pulls your earlobe between his teeth before returning to his previous position.

“Good. Now tell me what you want, baby. And be clear.”

His demanding tone sends a wave of arousal to your panties.

“Touch me.” You blurt.

“Ain’t I?” He swipes his thumb over you again and you gasp.

“No–not enough. Just… fuck, please,” you swallow thickly, trying to think, “you know what I want.”

“Uhm, but I don’t. Why don’t you spell it out for me?” Another swipe.

“Shit” you shudder, “give–give me more.” You squeeze your eyes shut. “Take this– my shorts, take them off, please”

He chuckles.

“So needy.” He mocks, but if the speed with which he gets off of you is anything to go by, he’s not much better.

He’s careful to not spark any pain as he slowly pulls your shorts down your legs, but leaves your panties on as he straddles you again and gently grabs your ass.

“Taehyung,” you whine.

“Shit, you sound so pretty saying my name like that,” his fingers swiftly pull your panties aside, and you both let out appreciative moans when he feels up and down your aching pussy. “You’re soaking my fingers, baby,” he murmurs, fingers parting your folds, “want me this bad?”

“I want you so much,” you answer, mind functioning way past self-preservation.

His hand dips down to rub your clit, making your walls flutter around nothing. He speeds up and you hear how wet you are for him, feeling your arousal dripping down your thighs. Taehyung shifts a bit and helps you carefully spread your legs with him still above you, and the momentary discomfort is worth it when he pushes two fingers inside your aching cunt.

“So fucking hot,” he groans, low tone dripping with lust as he starts to properly finger you open for him, “just sucking me in. Can’t wait to feel that around my cock.”

You shudder at his words, doing all you can to not rip the comforter with the force you’re clutching it.

“God, baby, wan–want that too” you gasp.

“Yeah?”

“Want you to fuck me dumb.”

“Holy shit,” he lets out a strained chuckle, “I’d love that too, baby, but if I did that it wouldn’t really help with the pain.”

You swear you had an answer in the tip of your tongue, but Taehyung curves his fingers in that exact moment, hitting your sweet spot just right and you suddenly don’t recognize your own voice, spilling filthy nothings and moaning shamelessly as he pairs his now precise rutting with a languid grinding of his palm on your cunt. “So what about I fuck you sweet and slow instead? Worship this gorgeous body of yours, hum?”

Taehyung takes the way your pussy squeezes his fingers as the answer that it is, and adds a third digit past your dripping folds, further preparing you for him. Your hips jolt when he takes his thumb to your clit, smearing your juices around before he’s rubbing circles over it.

You feel your stomach tensing the longer he fingers you, but as delicious as this is, you didn’t fantasize about this day for months only to cum on his fingers.

“Taehyung, I’m—” you moan wantonly, body tensing under him, “I’m close, but I don’t wanna—”, his fingers leave your cunt with a loud squelch, and he pushes himself away from you just as quickly.

“Turn around for me, angel.”

You take a second to process his words, his abrupt stop making you feel devastatingly empty, but as soon as you do as he says, he dives down to slot his lips against yours — and holy shit.

Taehyung kisses you like you’re the most precious thing in the world. Mouth molding over yours with an intensity that makes you feel loved. His hands travel over your body with similar admiration, tongue slipping past the seam of your lips to tangle with yours as you two savor each other.

Your mouths fit perfectly together while your skin burns with desire. He’s such a good kisser, matching your rhythm with ease.

You slither your fingers through his hair, pulling the strands and turning his face slightly to deepen the kiss. He makes you drunk, intoxicated in the sweet taste of his lips, and the sloppier it gets, the hungrier you get.

“Wanna kiss you everywhere” he moans, mouth parting from yours to trace your chin and jaw, licking and sucking on the skin, while he starts to push your top up.

“You first” you mutter, running your hands down his chest and sliding them beneath his shirt, nails scraping against his stomach before you’re raising it up his torso.

He sends you a disarming smirk, kneeling on the bed to pull his shirt off.

“God, Taehyung, for fuck’s sake” you groan. “How are you real?”

“You’re one to say.”

“You damn right I am.” You scoff, suddenly self-conscious. “Have you seen yourself? How do you expect me to undress in front of you?”

“Nah, stop that shit,” he huffs out a laugh, leaning above you again to whisper against your ear, “where’s the bad girl I know? The one who owns every room she walks in, huh? If anyone should be insecure here, it should be me,” you bite your lip and he tugs on your shirt, “let me see you too, babe.”

You pout, but help him take off your top — and his gaze burns through your bare chest, impossibly darker.

“So fucking perfect,” he mouths, before diving in and taking your lips again, kissing you fervently and letting his hands run free over your whole body.

His large palms cup your tits, grabbing them and caressing the soft flesh for a while, then pinching and rolling your nipples in between his fingers. He moves his lips to your cheek, leaving small bites along the side of your jaw before he buries his face in the curve of your neck, licking and kissing every single spot.

“I’ve been dreaming about this body for so long” he says against your skin, “I thought I was gonna die when I saw you with a bikini on that trip” he admits. “But seeing you like this— actually seeing you,” he takes his lips further down, “shit, you’re prettier than any dream, than any thought I could have.”

You feel your whole body warm with his praise, mind spinning as you try to make sense of his words — but failing miserably as he closes his mouth around one of your tits. Your eyes flutter shut and you roughly pull his hair, eliciting the sexiest fucking sounds out of him, all while rewarding them with your own loud pleasure as his tongue fondles with your nipple. His lips chart every inch of you, leaving no spot untasted or unkissed as he makes your body his.

“You make me dizzy,” he mumbles, “shit, can’t fucking get enough.”

He seems so fucking satisfied. Smuggly smiling against your body whenever you shudder or moan a bit too loud, pride overwhelming his features whenever his name meets his ears in a shaky breath, reveling in the way you melt under him.

Taehyung pulls the waistband of your panties between his teeth, biting down on the fabric to then carefully and slowly slide them down your legs, not daring to take his eyes away from yours until you are completely naked under him.

“Wanna taste you so bad.”

You feel goosebumps trailing over your skin, the idea sending a fresh wave of arousal down your cunt. So, naturally, when you pull him up and shake your head, you’re almost as surprised as him.

“No…” you whisper, and he freezes, worry taking over his face, “want you to fuck me.” Relief washes over his face, before a slow, teasing smirk takes over his lips, but he doesn’t say anything. “Shit, Tae, I need you to fuck me.”

Your whole face heats up when he snickers.

“Say that again.” You bite down on your lip when he grips your flesh with a bit more force than before. “My name,” he whispers, crawling up to caress your cheek. “Say my name like that again. Like you’ll fucking die if I don’t give you what you want.” His palm chases down your neck and pushes your head back a bit.

“Tae…” you sigh, closing your eyes when he kisses your jaw, “Taehyung, please fuck me.”

“Fuck, so hot” he whispers on your ear. “Begging for cock like a good girl,” you whine when he pulls your earlobe between his teeth. “Are you always needy like this? So desperate to be fucked?”

It is humiliating to admit, and you feel a not-so-sexy kind of anxiety creeping up on you and catching up with you clouded brain, because you know damn well you’ve never begged for shit — and that's why a teasing smile and innocent look is the best you can muster before pulling him in for a kiss.

Taehyung takes a second to process your touch, but soon melts into it, slipping his tongue past your lips and securing your waist on his hands. He rolls his hips, pressing his clothed erection on your cunt, and you both shiver at the friction.

“Why the fuck you still have your pants on?”

“Was kinda distracted,” he scoffs, and your hands reach between your bodies for his belt. You struggle with the poor angle, but eventually manages to open his jeans, and Taehyung lets out a relieved sigh, sitting up to properly push his pants off.

“Hurry up,” you whine, rubbing your thighs together.

“You’re this eager to see my butt?”

“Yeah, wanna see where you hid it.”

“Damn,” he chuckles, shaking his head as he tosses his last piece of clothing away.

It’s pathetic. It’s so fucking pathetic the way your jaw goes slack and your eyes widen. But what can you do when you finally see his cock — the one you’ve imagined way more times than someone who doesn’t have a crush probably should. He’s so hard it sure must be painful and precum collects at the tip, making your mouth water.

“Wanna suck you.”

“If I ain’t tasting you, you ain’t sucking me.” You pout.

“You just scared you won’t last.”

“I wasn’t the one begging less than a minute ago.”

“Shut up.”

He chuckles, slotting himself between your thighs.

He teases up your entrance, smearing your arousal around your pussy until his crown finds your clit and a low moan rips from your throat. You’ve never been this wet before — but you’ve also never felt this wanted before either.

Then, Taehyung’s patience seems to finally have reached its limit — his own teasing overbearing even for himself, because he doesn’t wait another second as he parts your folds, pressing his tip before finally pushing in. You tighten your grip on his shoulder, digging your nails on his flesh while his eyes are hypnotized by the way your cunt throbs around him, adjusting to his size as he fills you to the brim.

“You ok?” He whispers, heavy breath fanning your face as you thread your fingers through his hair.

You nod, “Please, move.”

He starts to roll his hips back.

“God, you’re so tight,” Taehyung groans, eyes rolling back at the way you clench around him.

“Shit,” you moan, “this feels so fucking good,” you’re not really aware of the words leaving your mouth, feeling as if you’ve lost your ability to think — an ability that you weren’t particularly good at in the first place.

When Taehyung moves back in, you can feel every inch of him as he stuffs you full, grinding on you as soon as your hips meet and stimulating every part of you. He sets a disarming pace, cock reaching deep with every stroke and he has to control every urge in his body not to pound into you like you both would like him to.

And you’re not used to this. You’re not used to the softness of his hold nor with the care he fucks you with.

Sex for you always felt like a race, but Taehyung makes it feels as if he stopped time altogether. The overwhelming bliss he sparks within your body is just so fucking good, already so much better than any past orgasms you’ve had.

When he feels you fully accommodate him, he speeds up enough to have you spiraling but not enough so your thighs are hurting. Between lustful moans and low groans, his hooded eyes search yours to read your every reaction, to understand which angle makes your brows furrow deeper, which rhythm makes you sound the most vulgar, and you can feel yourself dissolving into pleasure — the toe-curling, mind fucking and dangerous type — in no time.

He whispers the dirtiest things in your ear, tracing your neck with his tongue and biting on your jaw, loud pleasure and wet sounds fill the room.

You ignore the slight pain that hits your body whenever he makes your hips jolt or your legs shake, mostly because his soothing hands are anxious over your skin: fingers digging on your thighs, palms grabbing your hips, pinning you down on the bed to contain some of your roughest spasms. You’ve never been fucked so deep and so deliciously before.

You babble what seems like his name, but you’re too lost to be sure, desperate and uncoordinated sounds leaving your mouth loud enough to earn you some noise complaints later.

“Shit— ngh, so–so fucking good.” You arch your back, and Taehyung takes his hands to massage your tits.

Your head tilts back on the comforter, eyes squeezing shut despite your desire to keep looking at him — at his dark, unwavering gaze, staring you down while fucking you so deliciously —, but it’s just too much. You swear he’s on a mission to make you lose your goddamn mind as he earnestly fucks you, reaching every spot and grinding on you.

“Feels so good like this,” he grunts, “just sucking me in, so fucking wet.”

And you don’t answer — because you can’t. There’s nothing but Taehyung’s name in your mind, and some shaky version of it reaching his ears.

You can already feel the steady pressure building in the pit of your stomach, making your legs shiver around him as your whole body tightens.

“Shit,” he buries his face in your neck, feeling you constrict around him, “you close?”

You nod, biting his shoulder as a guttural moan leaves your lips.

“Then cum for me, princess, cream my cock.” He commands, pressing his thumb down on your clit at the same time, and making you come undone beneath him.

Taehyung can't really detain your whole body from quivering, hips buckling while your back arches from before you collapse on the bed.

An exhaustion takes over you, and it feels like hours until you’re finally able to open your eyes again.

Your body’s still quivering with aftershocks, pussy way too sensitive as Taehyung fucks you with lazy, shallow thrusts.

“Shit, that was so fucking hot” he groans, before his brows knit up, “I’m close too.”

He suddenly pulls away, quickly rising to kneeling position and circling his glistening cock with his large hand. His eyes travel over your body as he pumps himself, palm focusing on the tip as he chases his own release.

You ignore the way you pussy clenches at the sight.

“In my mouth,” you mutter, voice barely audible — but he hears you, because his movements falter.

“What did you say?”

“Want you to cum in my mouth.” You lick your lips before supporting yourself on your hands to get closer to his crotch. He groans when you replace his hand with yours, jerking his length to spread some of your juices around before closing your lips around his tip.

His head immediately falls back with an elongated grunt. And you feel your pussy leaking when he starts to twitch inside your mouth.

“So fucking good,” he praises, making you hum.

It takes only a few expert flicks of your tongue and hollowing of your cheeks before Taehyung’s hips buck and you feel his salty taste spilling down your throat. You keep sucking him, milking every last drop of his cum and swallowing it all like a champ, before releasing him with a pop and cleaning your lips with the back of your hand.

“You just swallowed my cum.” He says, as if trying to process it.

A sly smile takes over your face, but it doesn’t stay long as Taehyung’s face slowly scrunches up in what can only be described as sorrow. His lips turn into a pout and he gets off the bed in a heartbeat, searching for his discarded clothing.

“Shit, shit, shit.”

Your mind, empty a second ago, suddenly overflows with a million thoughts.

Shouldn't you have swallowed his cum? Did he want to cum on your tits? Why the fuck are his eyes glossy like that? Is he crying because he wanted to cum on your tits? Why is your heart about to explode? Say something, why can’t you just say something?

“I’m really sorry about this” he starts, pushing his underwear up his body, “I can’t believe I–that we…” he groans, running his hands through his hair the same way you were doing just seconds ago.

It hits you maybe too late into the overthinking process that having sex with Taehyung wasn't probably the best idea — not only due to his current euphoric attempt at an escape, but also because now, after your brain starts functioning at a normal speed after cuming that hard, you’re finally able to process the messy string of thoughts knotting inside your head and come to the alarming conclusion that… yeah, you kinda have a crush on that man fleeing from you right now — undeniably so, given that he’s struggling to stop crying after fucking you and you still feel the urge to cuddle with him and pinch his cheeks.

The fuck is wrong with you.

“Taehyung.” You call, remnants from his cum lingering on your mouth.

Thank god Keke Palmer is secured behind that closet not to see you failing her like that.

He’s mumbling to himself, seemingly forgetting that you can, in fact, hear him.

“— can’t believe I just fucked her, this did not just happened—” he says, among sniffles, fighting with his zipper, “argh, this was so fucking good, she was so fucking hot and now I just won’t be able to forget this shit and this is the opposite of what I was supposed to do—”

“Taehyung!”

“What?!” He snaps, giving up on his jeans and letting them fall uncomfortably on his thighs.

“The fuck you on about, man?”

He lets out a strangled noise, exasperated by your calmness.

“How am I supposed to get over you if my dick is now in love with you too?” He blurts, probably unintentionally, probably not realizing that you’re on the receiving end of that statement.

“... Well, damn.”

He sobs when it hits him. You just chuckle.

“Please, forget I ever said that—”

“Why, tho? This was the most romantic shit someone’s ever said to me.”

His exasperated groans are so fucking cute.

“I… sorry, let’s just pretend I never said anything. I didn’t mean it.”

“Oh. That’s too bad, cus I kinda like you too.”

“That’s not what I…” He closes his mouth immediately, eyes wide in a mix of panic and bewilderment as you smile.

“Don’t say shit you don’t mean right now.”

You chuckle.

“Why? Gonna cry?” He actually sobs. “Damn, boy, you sound nothing like the bad bitch I know.” You mock, but then bite your lip and crawl off the bed, trying to stand in front of him despite your stumbling legs. “I like you too, you dumbass. Been liking you for sometime, actually.”

You place your hand on his face, softly cleaning the tears off his cheeks.

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

He frowns, breathing finally normalizing.

“But you never really talk to me.”

“Yeah, I was kind of in denial and your personality didn’t help.”

“... That’s a compliment, right?”

You chuckle. “Yeah, Tae.”

“And what was yesterday about, then?”

“I was obviously trying to seduce you. And look at you,” you smile proudly, “seduced.”

“Yeah, ‘cus there’s nothing sexier than a sweaty woman fighting to stay on top of a horse, if you ask me.”

He opens one of those large, intoxicating boxy smiles of his, and you’re suddenly unable to smile back.

“Honestly? You intimidated the hell out of me. But seeing you completely out of your element yesterday watching me train some kids at a stud farm?” He chuckles. “Made me realize that… yeah, you’re amazing and all the shit I already thought… But you’re kinda lame too.”

Your mouth falls open.

“I’m sorry, you just said your dick’s in love with me, asshole.” You roll your eyes. “And you were about to fucking flee the scene. While crying, may I add.”

“Yeah, cus you just ate my cum,” he smirks. “That does something to a guy’s heart.”

You roll your eyes.

“Yeah, right.”

He shakes his head, an annoying smile still plastered on his face.

“I really do like you, you know? And like… we don’t have to figure anything out right now, this doesn’t even feel real yet, but…” he snakes his arms around your waist and pulls you flush against his chest, “I really fucking like you.”

He caresses your cheek with his thumb, slowly running his finger over your lips. This time, his kiss is tender, full of unhesitant affection. You two fumble backwards, and he carefully lays you on your back, falling beside you and pulling you to frame his side.

“I like you too.” You whisper, snuggling closer.

“We can do those corny things together now. Like… uhm, like watch that Real Jackson show you always talk ab—” you grimace.

“It’s True Jackson, Taehyung.”

“Whatever, same difference.” Keke please forgive his ignorant soul. “Oh, and I’ll take you to ride with me.”

“Yeah, don’t push it. There’s not a single chance I’ll be riding again.”

“Oh, no, babe,” he and offers you a smirk, “I meant riding this fucking dick!”

Sigh.

But honestly, that might not be too bad.

note ↠ sooo, what we think? 🥹 writing this after taking a break was way harder than anticipated lol, but i made it! so i hope y'all enjoy it note² ↠ all form of feedback is deeply appreciated! note³ ↠ you can go back to navigation here

#kth #kths #kthf #seoul town road

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