#legs sawed off in his sleep without any prior warning Thats fucked up!!!!!

[eebie]

tavros my tavBro

[boymeetsweevil]

Breathe you in

Grouping: Popstar!Reader x Non-Idol!Taehyung

Word Count: ~7.8k

Warnings/Themes: Shotgunning (so thats recreational drug use), Rough face fucking, face-sitting (fm receiving), some background angst, not too scary lol

Summary: Can I pls request an ex lovers trope with taehyung where you broke up with him , but he shows you he loves you and was never over you and wants to be together again? Thanks!

A/N: This is part of the BTS Smut Club Anniversary fic exchange! Thanks for the prompt!

It’s nearing 10pm when the town car arrives in front of your apartment complex. The driver pulls up in the back entrance used primarily for allowing the higher profile residents to discreetly enter the building when needed. Normally the back entrance is littered with snapping cameras or fans who are trying their hand at stalking. Tonight none of those people are there for you because your mini-tour ended a day early, allowing you to return from Amsterdam a day before what’s scheduled on your website.

“Don’t forget,” your publicist sits across from you on the opposite leather upholstered bench of the car, “You’re close to reaching another follower milestone, so you need to do one last Instagram live before bed.” You release a deep sigh that sounds like it came from your bones.

“Shit. Bee, I’m really tired.”

“Language,” Bee admonishes while scrolling one iPhone in one hand before switching to the one in her other hand.

“Can’t it fucking wait,” you hiss, petty from exhaustion.

She pins you with a look that tells you she’s not playing this game with you and continues typing away. “You’ll sleep soon enough once we go through the checklist for today and tomorrow.”

Bee’s phone pings and you watch the set of her mouth grow infinitely more tense before her eyes dart to you. Rarely does hesitation temper her gaze like it does in this moment. You let out a sigh. She’s about to mention your ex.

“Also, Oh! News wants to bring you in some time this week to address statements Nick made about the breakup.”

“Of course they do,” you sigh again.

“I’ve been trying to push the date back but they’re not taking no for an answer. Plus, it might be better to go out and put an end to it so it can become old news.”

You massage your temples. “Yeah, no, I’ll do it. I’ll do it.”

Bee watches the gears in your head turn as you think about the whirlwind that was the breakup. With your departure to Europe only a few days after the PG-13 video of him with another actress blew up, there was naturally a lot of speculation. Most of it hateful and directed at you, surprisingly enough. Having just starred in a movie aimed at 12-17 year olds, Nick seemingly had all of the world’s young girl population locked and loaded at you. Your relative silence while on tour for two months in the Netherlands only fueled the outrage.

“Alright, alright,” she opens the door on your side and pushes your purse into your limp arms. “I had them take your luggage up before you. Do what I told you and then...go get some sleep, Sweets.”

“Thanks, Bee.”

Your penthouse apartment is as pristine as you left it when you push open the door, your luggage waiting neatly by your shoe closet. While you unpack your bags in your bedroom, you take note of the outfit laid out for your on your bed. It’s a pair of leggings that have sequins sewn up the sides and a matching off the shoulder top that will definitely require you to keep your bra on. It’s for the Instagram broadcast, so you won’t have to wear it long. But you want to crawl out of your skin and finally be able to turn off your public figure voice more than anything else. You suppose you can handle waiting a little while longer, though.

When you’re dressed and have your hair out of your face, you take your phone with you to the bathroom before waking up your speaker to play some mood music. A little tripod setup waits for you on the sleek countertop. Once your phone is plugged in and you’ve pulled up Instagram, you begin your livestream and your camera smile is on.

“Hey, everybody,” you greet the viewers already watching.

There’s a little more than 800,000 people are currently watching, more than normal this early in a live video. You attribute it to the tweet Bee sent from your Twitter a few minutes prior that broke your 2 month long internet silence.

“I’m sorry I’ve been gone so long,” you talk a little louder over the music you have playing. “I was so busy in Amsterdam and when I did have some down time, I wanted to really unplug. So I didn’t use social media while I was there. I’ll definitely be uploading the pictures I took, though. I saw some really amazing stuff.”

You begin pumping an oil cleanser into the palms of your hands while stopping to read the comments as they come up on the screen. Some of them you ignore because they’re comments from Nick’s fan accounts. Others welcome you back and some are fans of the artist you were touring with.

“How was touring with Nana,” you echo the fan’s question while rubbing your makeup off. “She was so wonderful, oh my god. I think she’s got such a beautiful point of view when it comes to her lyrics about getting older and dealing with the pressures of being a woman in the spotlight. Also her fashion sense is incredible.”

A few more questions about the products you’re using and what you did on your off time come up. Some people ask if you’re working on a new album yourself and you talk about that as much as you can without breaking any promises, keeping the essentials a secret. Another person asks you to sing a few bars from your verse on the song you did with Nana and you do. By the time you’re tapping moisturizer onto your face, you’ve almost made it through the broadcast unscathed. But then you see a comment that has you breaking character for a second, your muscles freezing.

douknowbt$: OMG Nick is watching the live.

Hopefully no one notices your 2 seconds of panic, but you can’t be sure until someone else blogs about it. You dismiss the comment and finish up with a few pumps of hand cream, rubbing your hands a bit manically as the comments about Nick begin to grow in number. In that moment, you sign off and quickly move to end the live. But with your haste and slippery fingers, you don’t realize you missed the button and the recording was still going.

A few of the viewers try to send messages letting you know that the live hasn’t ended, but you don’t check your phone again after throwing it onto your covers and climbing into bed. With the camera facing up, you’re seen pulling up your laptop and putting on some classical music using the surround sound speakers in your bedroom. From the screen, all the viewers can see you sitting stiffly on your bed, eyes closed for a few minutes in what looks like meditation as the adagio that’s playing washed over you. After a few deep breaths, you open your eyes and reach for your phone.

“Oh sh—,” you keep yourself from cursing at the last second when you discover the livestream didn’t end. “I’m sorry, guys. I was so tired I guess I didn’t realize I forgot to end the video. I’m signing off for real now. Yes, yes, I’m okay. Just tired. I’ll see you guys tomorrow.”

You triple check to make sure the video is off before throwing your phone across the bed. The day didn’t seem like it could get worse after your long flight and even longer wait at the airport when it seemed like your luggage was lost. Not to mention that you were bone tired and hungry but couldn’t have any of the foods you were craving because of a stupid photo shoot coming up in a few weeks. In that moment, the intercom rings, signaling that the front desk is trying to reach you, but you remain in bed and hope that it’ll stop. It does, for a moment, before starting up again. You groan before getting up and heading to the front door.

“Yes?”

“Hello Miss,” says the cheerful older man who runs the front desk during nights. “I trust you’re having a delightful evening.”

“Hello, Sir.”

“We just wanted to alert you that the delivery person with your order is currently on the 15th floor and should be at your suite shortly. Please anticipate your food’s arrival in the next few minutes and have a pleasant rest of the evening.” The call ends just like that, not leaving you any room to protest and say that you didn’t order food.

You figure it’s just that Bee saw what a huge shitshow your livestream was and she wants to send you something to make you feel better. And no doubt if it was something that came with a delivery person, it was good food. If she came herself, she would definitely have brought something like a salad bowl or a sushi plate. If you eat another vegetarian sushi plate, you're certain you'll die. Not from Mercury poisoning—like your mother always warns you about—but from sadness.

A tentative knock on the door sounds and you open it with a plasticky smile. Sometimes they send people who get a little star struck. Most times you’re amenable to just being subdued but friendly so that they just ask for a selfie or a quick autograph on a take out napkin and don't try to linger or say you were a bitch later on. 

Tonight you're not really in the mood for too much friendliness tonight, though. In the drawer next to the door, you dig around for the wad of cash you keep hidden there and pull an obscene tip out.

“Hi, thank you,” you keep your head down and blindly reach for the white paper bag in the person's hand. “Have a good—excuse me, asshole!”

“That’s not my name.”

The hand yanks the bag out of your reach at the last second, lifting high above your head. You’re not at all in the mood for dealing with a pissy delivery boy who wants to knock you down a few pegs. Putting your hands on your hips, you’re about to give him the verbal lashing he deserves, PR consequences be damned, when you a good look at his face stops you.

“Taehyung?”

“In the flesh,” he shoots back at you.

The man in front of you gives you a muted, smug smile before shouldering his way past you and into your apartment. He stands tall in the foyer of your apartment like he belongs there and has been there a thousand times. You can’t help but drink in the image of your ex-boyfriend from half a decade ago despite the fact that he’s technically intruding. There’s still a whisper of the boy you started dating when you were in your last year of high school, but much of that is overpowered by the man he is now. He’s broader in the jaw and the shoulders than he was before, and there must have been some growth spurts since you last saw him.

“This is real nice,” he lets out a low whistle as he takes in the large open floor-plan of your apartment. You follow closely behind as he starts walking around, head cocked forward with purpose.

“What are you looking for?”

“The kitchen,” he says casually.

“It’s that way,” you gesture before realizing that you need to get your priorities straight. “What are you doing in my house?”

“I came to bring you food.”

The bag he raises gives off a pleasant savory smell and you clench your fist to keep yourself from excusing his sudden appearance.

“I didn’t ask for food. And I certainly didn’t ask you for food.”

“Touchy,” he turns back to pin you with an amused grin. “But you didn’t have to ask. I knew you needed it.”

“You knew I needed it?” You raise an incredulous eyebrow, eager to hear his explanation. “How did you know I needed it?”

He places the bag on the countertop in your kitchen, standing on the opposite side of the counter.

“Because,” he sighs, “I saw your Instagram live and you were playing Elgar. You never play Elgar unless something’s really wrong.”

“I—that’s,” he pushes the bag toward you while you try to come up with a reason while he’s wrong, when he’s not.

You’ve had a habit of playing classical music when you were near your breaking point. It’s been a habit that you’ve had since you were 10, but concealed long before you started your time in the spotlight. While you were dating Taehyung, you were a depressed teenager and he was present for some of the worst times of your life. Several times he’d found you in your room or your parents’ car blasting tragic symphonies as accompaniment for bawling your eyes out. But that was years ago.

“You can eat it. I’m not hungry,” you finally say. He looks at you like he can tell you’re lying, but plays along and shrugs.

“Fine.” He opens the bag and pulls out some smaller plastic containers of food and a spoon.

“I didn’t mean here!”

He chuckles at your outburst, mumbling something about fame not changing you, before ambling out of the kitchen and through the rooms until he arrives at your bedroom. You find him about to sit on your bed and rush over.

“If you took the subway here, don’t even think about sitting on that bed.”

“What? Suddenly my subway clothes are too dirty for your bed?”

“Yes,” you huff. “The sheets alone cost me more than half a grand.”

“What the hell,” he jumps up like he’s been shocked. “Why would you spend that much on sheets?”

“They’re highly rated,” you admit with a small voice. “And they’re used by many foreign diplomats.”

“That’s ridiculous. You’re so prissy.”

“We can’t all be members of a practical startup.” When his eyes widen in surprise, you curse yourself for letting him know you still keep tabs on him. “Besides. You used to like prissy.”

“Still do,” he gives you with a molten look that has you moving away from him and fluffing pillows to hide your flustered state.

“Why are you still here?”

“Because you’re hurting.”

“Maybe,” you throw your hands up. “But that’s not your job anymore.”

He runs a hand through his dark hair, parting the shiny waves carelessly. He’s not sure how to admit that he’s been making sure fame doesn’t eat you alive ever since you broke up with him to pursue your singing career. The memory of that day rings clear in his head even after five years of being split up.

Cliche as it sounds, it was a rainy night. You were at a meeting with Bee a few days before the entertainment label you were flirting with was going to give you the final version of your contract to sign.

Bee was never a huge fan of his, so Taehyung waited outside her office instead of interrupting the meeting to let you know he was there. But with the office door cracked, he could still hear the sounds of your conversation and the soft sounds of your sobs.

His blood grew cold when he heard what Bee was telling you. She told you starting this career with a relationship would hurt your numbers by making it impossible for your male fanbase to project their fantasies onto you because of the presence of another guy in your life. She told you if you were going to make it, you’d need to play up the role of sexy girlfriend to the audience members for the first album at least and that wouldn’t be possible if they got wind of Taehyung.

He covered his own mouth, barely fighting tears from welling up, listening as you tried to plead with Bee. Your voice was watery as you tried to convince her that you could make it without the girlfriend role. That you had enough work ethic and talent to do it. And when she didn’t budge, you said that you loved him and threatened to walk out right then if you had to break up with him. He listened to Bee tell you that you were being naive and that you’d be stupid to throw away all your opportunities for a boy.

And Bee was right.

So when you came outside minutes later with puffy eyes and a white knuckled grip on the sleeves of your sweater, he’d accepted his fate. He’d even accepted the lie you told him about having another guy on the side. Though you couldn’t produce a name when he asked who it was. Though you looked up at him like you wanted to take it all back. Though you leaned your forehead on his chest like you were in the greatest amount of pain. He accepted it all and walked away.

That is, if walking away meant that he created fake social media accounts so he could comment positive things on your first few interview videos and bought tickets to as many concerts he could when you were in the area. He never tried to make his presence known, just stood there and drank in how vibrant you looked when you were on stage and singing your heart out. It took a while for the jealousy to stop rearing its ugly head whenever he looked at how other people would show their adoration for you. By the time Nick came around, he was convinced he was content with how things were. But after seeing the way Nick’s cheating affected you, he had a hard time sitting still.

“Well, I’m not leaving until you feel better. So, you better start talking.”

“What is there to even say?”

“I don’t know. You tell me.”

You sigh and ignore him in favor of walking over to the large sofa in the corner of your room and collapsing on the large sofa face first. A dip in the cushions near you tells you he’s followed you and sat down. When you finally reveal your face, he’s peering down at you with a sad look in his eyes. The sad, sympathetic look that would always get you spilling your guts when you were still together. So you tell him everything.

It's almost embarrassing to tell him that you thought you loved Nick. At their best, things with Nick were comfortable and sometimes passionate, but it wasn’t anything close to love. Nothing close to what you had with Taehyung. And how could it have been when the reason you got together in the first place was because Bee thought you could ‘scratch each other’s backs’? Nick was not only handsome with the clean image Bee wanted for you, but you were writing and singing the theme song for the blockbuster movie he was to star in. It all seemed to work at first.

It only took one tabloid story suggesting that he was seeing some other younger and bustier actress behind your back to make you see that nothing you had with him was substantial. You brought the story up as a joke, thinking you could laugh about the way tabloids would do anything for story—even lie. As soon as you mentioned it to him, he denied it hastily and made a snide comment about not believing everything you see just because it’s technically press. After that, it was like a switch had been flipped and suddenly you couldn’t be in the same room together for more than 10 minutes without going at each other’s throats. The cheating rumors kept flaring up until they reached a peak a little more than 2 months ago, when someone anonymously submitted a video of him groping and kissing the same actress outside of a bakery in your hometown in broad daylight.

After watching the video about 15 times on the plane to Amsterdam, you concluded that even though he had long since established himself as a grade-A asshole in your mind, he was in mushy-love with this girl. You could tell from the sweet way he cradled her face while kissing her and how he took the extra step to block any potential cameras before giving her impressive rack a squeeze. Lucky for you, the video didn’t really evoke any messy emotions like jealousy. Instead there was just some satisfaction at having your suspicions confirmed and knowing he’d have to clean up this mess. You felt bad for the other actress, though. She was just starting out with mainly B movie roles and there was no telling whether the public would fillet her or ignore her altogether.

Taehyung has to sit on his hands to keep from rubbing your back you as you pour out all the things that had been stressing you out. What startles him is how stoic you are the whole time. When he first met you, you cried at the drop of a hat. It was endearing back then, but there’s no trace of it now. You sniffle a little when you talk about some of the vicious hate mail you received while in Amsterdam, but besides the shining eyes, that’s it. He clenches his jaw and wonders what you must have gone through in the last five years to have lost that quality.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbles when the lull in the conversation is longer than he expected.

“It’s fine, I just,” you sniff again, wipe your eyes carefully. “I was really hoping that once the dating clause in my contract expired, things wouldn’t blow up in my face like this. And now I can’t go anywhere without people shoving mentions of Nick in my face. I just—it sucks. I just want to do what I want and I thought I’d earned that right but I guess not.”

“I don’t know. I think you’ve earned it. You’re grammy nominated this year, and you visited 13 countries this year alone.”

“What are you? President of my fan club?”

“Do I look like a 14 year old girl to you?”

You squint like you’re giving it some thought and he squawks.

“I’m just kidding,” you duck your head. “You’re, what, 226?” He laughs at the extra two centuries you’ve tacked on.

“You remember my birthday,” he smiles widely.

“Of course I do.” The way he looks at you makes the hairs on the back of your neck stand up so you change the subject. “Alright. I’ve done enough talking. Where’s my compensation?”

“You literally haven’t changed at all,” he says while fishing in the pockets of his dark wash denim jacket. It takes a few seconds and he has to pull a few balled up receipts and earphones out of the pockets but he eventually pulls out a fat blunt and brandishes it like a huge check.

Nose wrinkling, you push his hand out of your face. “Weed?”

“Yeah! You said you wanted a pick-me-up, right? And I just got this yesterday from a dispensary. This is the good, strong shit. Probably could compete with the stuff they have in Amsterdam.”

“Well, I wouldn’t be able to tell.”

“Huh,” he furrows his brow while hunting for a lighter.

“I’ve never smoked so I wouldn’t know.”

“You mean you were in Amsterdam and you didn’t even try to smoke?”

“It’s bad for my voice,” you whine at his judgmental glare.

“Bullshit.”

“It smells like armpit,” you try again.

“There’s the prissy princess. Well, you should know that the only stuff that smells like that is the shit broke evil dealers peddle to broke college students.”

You roll your eyes, but sit up on your heels so you can pay closer attention. Taehyung flicks his lighter to life and lights up the end of the blunt. He takes a deep inhale before letting out a thick cloud of smoke. He gestures for you to take it, but you shake your head nervously.

“What’s the matter now?”

“I don’t know how to do it. What if I burn my lips?”

He squints at you, wondering how you can be such a baby. “The cherry’s not even on the side you put your mouth on.”

“Whatever! I’m still scared.”

“Do you want to try it, though?”

You gnaw at your lip thoughtfully and decide that you need to take your mind off everything for a while. “Y-yeah, I guess. I don’t have a studio session tomorrow.”

“Okay.” He scoots forward on the couch until your knees are just barely brushing. “I’ll shotgun it to you.”

“What’s that?”

“You’ll see.”

He takes another drag, this time a little smaller, and holds the smoke in his mouth. Turning to you, he leans in until you can feel his bangs brush your forehead as he tilts his head to get the angle right. There’s about an inch of space between your mouths when he starts to let the smoke billow out of his mouth. You get the gist and try to inhale it as best as possible, but you’re new to it and he’s too far away for you to get the smoke.

“I’m not getting any,” your tone is petulant as the smoke floats up around your face.

Taehyung, on the other hand, is already feeling the effects of the strong blend he bought. He scoots forward once more and then turns to the side so he can take another drag. This next time, he grabs your jaw and brings you forward to meet him. Thumbing at your bottom lip, he coaxes your mouth open and slack before slotting his lips over yours. You feel the brush of the supple skin of his lips and it distracts you a bit, but this time you do manage to inhale most of the fumes. Your eyes drop closed as you hold the smoke in for as long as possible before letting your breath out.

“How was that,” Taehyung asks lowly. His lids have drooped to match his relaxed state. With the high slowly creeping over him, he ogles you unabashedly.

“It was okay. Do it again.”

He nods and quickly burns through the rest of the blunt, giving you the larger hits when he shotguns to you and taking slightly smaller drags for himself. To keep you nearby, his hand comes to rest heavily on the small of your back. You, still on your haunches, somehow end up straddling one of his thighs to stay close. Near the end of the blunt, you’re feeling a bit floaty and like the heat from the blunt transferred to your belly. Taehyung’s gaze feels tangible on you, like a firm-handed caress across all parts of you as he looks you over. Like smoke on your skin. You recognize the feeling as one you haven’t felt in a while and move to sit more properly in his lap.

“I want the last one,” you whisper while tugging on the collar of his jacket. The ends of his long hair tickle your fingers.

He nods and moves slowly to suck the roach dry. Once he’s close enough, you wait patiently. His nose grazes your cheek for a few long seconds before he finally turns to pass the smoke to you. You take it obediently and exhale but then grab him by the lapels to press your lips to his. His hands come up immediately to cup your face and pull you closer. You work your lips over his, drawing low groans from him as your tongue teases his.

“You smell good,” he says groggily between kisses.

“Thanks,” you roll your eyes.

His eyes flutter shut when you begin to press kisses to the column of his throat, your hands moving to unbutton the dress shirt he’s wearing underneath. He tries his best to keep up with you, but he gets slow when he’s high. So he settles for you being in charge, but does let his hands roam over your body.

A lot has changed since he last felt you like this. The strict gym regimen you employ to compliment choreography for songs has given you an amazing ass that he thought could only gaze at in pictures. And he had done quite a lot of that. Though he’s not sure how you would feel if he confessed to jerking off to some of your sexier music videos. He marvels at the feel of you and you’re pleasantly surprised when his hands come down heavy on your hips to grind you down onto his lap. A pleased hum leaves you and you reward him with kisses migrating lower, across the path of his now exposed torso. You leave the couch to sit between his spread knees on the floor. The button of his jeans is your last major obstacle and you still your hands over the waistband patiently.

“You get where I’m going with this, right?”

He nods his head, tongue coming out unconsciously to wet his lips at he takes in the sight of you on your knees in front of him.

“Do want you want me to...” you trail off, suddenly feeling a bit embarrassed at asking your ex if you could blow him.

“Do you? Want to?” His hand reaches out to cup your cheek, thumb brushing over you cheekbone.

“Yeah?”

“Then, yeah.”

You move quickly to unbutton his pants and slide them down his thighs once he lifts his butt to assist you. He’s wearing boxers, which is a relief because you don’t want his bare ass on your very expensive couch, and the crotch opening provides easy access. With one hand, you smooth the wrinkles in his boxers over, noting the tent in the fabric and the dark stain where his head must be dribbling pre-cum. Your mouth is watering as you pull him out and test his girth and weight in your hand. Just the sight of his dick in your hand makes you want to swallow him down.

Before he can say anything else, you’re wetting his shaft with broad licks from root to tip. He grits his teeth and lets out a satisfied grunt at the way it feels when you tongue at his slit. You take him in until you just barely wrap your lips around the head, and he lets out a low moan at finally being enveloped in the wet, silken heat of your mouth.

“Can you do me a favor,” he manages to ask you despite the fact that stars are forming in the corner of his vision when you take him against the inside of your cheek.

“Hmm,” you hum around him, causing his hips to jolt up the tiniest amount.

“Can you spit on it?”

You smile in a way that can only be described as predatory and pull him out of your mouth. You spit like he asks, letting some drool pool on him as well, while he moans again and his hand comes out to smooth over your hairline. He’s more vocal than you remember and it gets you wet quickly. Before you stain anything, you kick off your stupid bedazzled leggings so you can return them to Bee in the morning.

“Shit,” he hisses when you start bobbing your head to a fast and unforgiving rhythm. You’re playing with him, you want to wring an orgasm out of him, and he can sense this. “Why don’t we take this s-slow?”

You pull off briefly. “Tae, I want you to fuck my face. That’s not well-suited to slow.”

“Isn’t that bad for your voice,” he mimics your tone from earlier.

You give him a pinch on his thigh before taking him into your mouth again and resuming your ministrations. Since you’re so focused on getting what you want, he decides to try and level the playing field and keeps his hip movements to a minimum and opts to talk through the head instead. He’s determined to get some clarity with you

“I’ve missed you,” he breathes deeply through the feeling of your saliva starting to trickle over him. The slide is getting slicker as you continue, making him lose his train of thought briefly. “So much.”

Instead of replying back with words, you just give a little acknowledging noise that’s too neutral to be a dissenting or affirming noise. He takes it in stride and continues.

“I still think about you all the time. And I—fuck—I’ve tried to date other people, but it’s just never felt quite the same way. You were the only one who understood me so well and who didn’t try to change me.”

His words wash over you and a wave of fondness hits you in a way that has you almost shy. You haven’t been shy in a long while because you couldn’t afford to be in your line of work. People were always trying to capture parts of you, and a great deal of them were trying to capture the uglier sides. There was no room to actually fear that for the last five years of your life because it was inevitable to a certain degree. But as you work over Taehyung, his words make you feel stripped down. You feel bare and small despite the fact that his words have nothing but good in them really.

“If I’m being honest,” he says and you slow your rhythm to stare at him, wondering what he could have to confess. “You might be even further out of my league than when we first met.” You sigh and pull off of him.

“Tae, come on. Give yourself some slack.”

“No, I mean it,” he sits up slowly, tongue heavy with earnestness as he tries to talk through the high. “It seems like you’ve only become more comfortable with yourself since you started singing and the way you move—it’s like you’re from another planet.”

“Oh my god,” your cheeks heat up when he looks at you like you have a halo and wings. “Stop, you’re being so unnecessary right now.”

“I still love you,” he says. The words fall from his mouth like he’s been dying to say them. “And I know you didn’t cheat on me when we were younger.”

Your mouth drops open in shock. To this day you still regretted lying to him like that. But deep down you knew that there was something off about his reaction. He didn’t seem shocked or nearly disappointed as you thought someone might be when they hear they’re being left for another person. Instead, he had just nodded and insisted on driving you home until Bee had to come out and promise him that she’d do it herself. The fact that he didn’t block you on social media or try to drag your name through the mud immediately after your debut made you wonder if he saw through your lie.

“How did you know?”

“I came early to pick you up that day. And I heard Bee tell you what to say to me. How to break up with me.”

“Tae, I’m so—”

He shushes you with a tender kiss to the cheek that’s so soft you’re rendered momentarily speechless.

“I know. It’s not your fault, they didn’t give you a choice.”

“I would have picked you if I could,” you mumble into the space between you. His hands feel like anchors on either side of your face and you cling to them in the hopes that you won’t cry. “I really would have. You don’t know how much I missed you.”

“I feel the same way. It killed me to see you with that Nick asshole.”

You smirk a little at the mention of Nick. “Aw. Were you jealous, Tae?”

He looks down at you for a second, reading your face carefully, before dropping one hand down from your cheeks to the nape of your neck. The weight of it reads as possessive on your skin and you lean forward unconsciously until you’re able to smell the faintly sweet smell of smoke on his clothes.

“You’d like it if I was, right?” His gaze hardens, setting your heartbeat into a rabbit-quick pace. “Hmm? You like me being jealous of him?”

“I don’t know.”

“Yes, you do. Answer me.”

“Okay, fine. Maybe I do,” you nuzzle into his neck to hide the excited smile splitting your lips.

“I knew it. It’s pretty on-brand for you.”

He nudges your bare thigh to signal you need to get up and so you do. You’re about to ask him what the hell ‘on brand’ means for you when he bends down to throw you over his shoulder with a low grunt.

“Tae, what the hell!”

Your raised voice gets you a harsh tweak to the perky globe of your ass and immediately quiets you down. He walks with you to the bed before throwing you down. Not rough enough to hurt but just rough enough to surprise you and give a doe-eyed look to your face. When you look up at him, his charade has fallen a bit, eyes returning to their original sleepy softness.

“Is this how you want it,” he asks you.

His voice is deep and gentle, and it evokes a different but equally visceral reaction. You nod and then shuffle over to the edge of the bed and sit at the edge of the mattress, waiting to see where he’ll take the situation. He smiles darkly at you once more before placing a hand on the back of your head to lead to his crotch.

His erection stands taller than it did before on the couch and he digs his fingers into your hair when you plant sweet kisses on the juncture where his thigh meets groin. You look sweet like this—playful, even—as you mouth along his length with kitten licks interspersed. When you’re about to take him into your mouth once more, he fists your hair and pulls you off him. With your head angled up to look into his eyes, you see a new emotion in them.

“Look,” he sighs. “If we’re going to do this, we’re going to do the whole thing.”

“What, like sex?”

“No, I mean you and me. I want to be with you. I’ve made my peace with what happened between us, but I know I still love you. So, I’m asking you to decide if you’re willing to do that, to be with me. Because I can’t—”

“Yes.”

“What?” His eyes grow wider and take on an awestruck quality. Like he’s not sure he wants to believe what he heard from you. “Really?”

“I want to try again,” you curl your hands around his hips. Bringing him forward into a hug around his pelvis, you lean your chin on his lower abdomen and try to infuse as much reassurance as you can into your smile.

“You won’t get in trouble with your agency?”

You shake your head and curl your arms around his hips, bringing him into an awkward hug as you lean your chin on his lower abdomen and look up at him. “Nick was an exception because he and I were arranged by our respective agencies, but my dating clause expired last year. I can date who I want. Within reason.”

He throws his head back with the realization that he’ll get a second chance with you. The hand he has on the back of your head softly caresses the skin of your neck.

“God, I love you,” he breathes with eyes drifting closed in contentedness.

“Good. Now can we get back to this? You were being fun earlier.”

“Yeah?” His tone turns gravelly and coy as he coaxes you back towards his dick. “Are you ready to choke?”

You can only nod as you take him in gradually, only for him to wait until you get halfway and push your head further down. You gag around him at the sudden pressure at the back of your throat, but shift your breathing through your nose to get a better handle on it. He pulls you by the hair until you’re at the tip again before slamming you back down, your nose nearly brushing the skin of his abdomen. You gag and the sound causes him to thicken in your mouth and a rush of arousal to trickle down into your panties.

“You feel so good around my cock,” he moans as he begins thrusting shallowly into your mouth. You can tell he’s close from how irregular the rhythm is. “Can you try to deep throat me?”

After you give an affirmative hum and relax your throat as best you can, he takes your face in both hands and starts to pull you up and down his length, going further each time until he knows he’s in your throat from the sudden tightness of you swallowing and the increase in gagging. Saliva is now dripping from your mouth, coating him and your chin, but you don’t care. Your eyes tear up at the burning sensation, but you can also feel your arousal trickle down your leg as he fucks your mouth more intensely. Right as you press two fingers to your clothed center for some relief, he gives you a tapped warning on your neck and his orgasm spills into your mouth.

He quickly pulls off his jacket and shirt, handing the latter to you to wipe your eyes and mouth with. Once your face is dry, he tucks himself back in and climbs around you into the bed. You turn to watch him fold back your blankets and throw the pillows you have all to the foot of the bed, leaving the space by the headboard. Taehyung then lies down, head where your pillows once were.

“Going to sleep already?” Your voice comes out in a sultry croak that has him laughing a little.

“No, I’m getting ready for you to sit on my face,” he says simply.

When you don’t budge, he sits up and pulls you by the arms toward him. You try to escape him, but his grip just tightens the more you protest.

“Tae, wait, I’m not—”

“You’re not what?”

“I’m not...presentable. Down there.” You avert your eyes as you explain to him that it's been a since you were last at a spa to get waxed. You figured since you weren’t seeing Nick anymore and you were mandated by your PR crew to wait at least 4 months after a breakup, there was no need to keep up with such a strict...landscaping routine. He rolls his eyes and moves to pull on the waistband of your panties to peek in and see what you mean, but you shove him away.

“Do you think I actually care?”

“Do you really not?”

“No? Unless you have some disease or infection, what’s the issue?”

“I’m clean,” you pout.

“Good,” he says before placing a kiss on your lips.

While you’re distracted by the kissing, he maneuvers you into straddling his waist before pulling back. Reluctantly, you shuffle up to hover over his ribcage and shyly grab the headboard. He huffs.

“You know I can’t reach you from there. It’s called sitting on someone’s face for a reason.”

He nudges your butt until the seat of your panties lines up with his jaw. He sees a few errant curls peeking out from the leg holes of your panties, so he uses a finger to push your underwear to the side to get a better look. What’s unsurprising is that it still looks like a vagina, though it had been a while since his last non-bald encounter. He doesn’t care, though, and cups your butt in his hands to move you the rest of the way.

The broad strip he licks up from your entrance to your clit takes you by surprise and because you were wound up so tight from a combination of nerves and horniness from blowing him, you let out a high keening sound. Taehyung chuckles beneath you before using his full lips to kiss at the apex of your thighs, sucking your clit into his mouth. The tip of his tongue scrubs figure eights against the bundle of nerve endings and has you squirming over him. More arousal leaks from you and he shifts to drink from you, humming and slurping obscenely. He then starts to lick at you in earnest, tracing strategic shapes across your lips and sucking with varying pressures and paces until you start rocking over him on your own accord.

“That’s my girl,” he praises you from below. “Now, ride my face,” he says before flattening his tongue and pressing up to meet your tentative grinding thrusts.

The combination of saliva and your arousal makes the glide smoother than you expected and it feels so good that one of your hands leaves the headboard to fist in his thick hair. He moans a little at the faint sting and wraps his hands around the backs of your thighs to press you against him harder. His tongue dips into your entrance occasionally, chasing the flavor of your arousal, trying not to let any of your juices go to waste. You bite your lip to trap the wanton moans trying to escape you, but Taehyung realizes what you’re doing and gives you another sharp swat to the bottom to coax them out, mumbling against the inside of your thigh not to hide from him anymore. 

As you start to move more desperately above him, he attempts to fuck you more purposefully with his tongue. It’s just enough that in a dozen more swivels of your hips, you’re cumming all over his face, soaking his cheeks with a glistening varnish. You try to move as quickly as possible, but he stops you with a tight hold on your hips and licks you clean. You squirm away, partly because you’re sensitive and partly because he’s so enthusiastic about it that you’re a little bashful.

Finally he lets you get off him, but he doesn’t let you get too far. He follows you and almost makes it into the en suite with you, but you close the door at the last moment. You pee and clean up and when you come out, you feel like a weight has been lifted. Taehyung looks infinitely more sober lying in the middle of your bed in just his boxers, eyes bright and hair messy as he tries to figure out which remote will turn on your speakers.

You stand by the bed and watch him for a while. He turns to you innocently and holds the remotes in his two hands with confusion.

“What?”

“Nothing,” you approach your closet and take off your borrowed sweatshirt before looking for your favorite well-worn sweatsuit. “You’re just so pretty.”

“You’re prettier,” he shouts over to you. He can’t see you inside your closet, but you’re smiling like an idiot.

When you’re fully changed, you go to the bed and lean over him to kiss him. He still smells like you and you tell him so, to which he responds with a grin and subtly licking his lips.

“So when do you want me to tell the public about you?”

“Whenever you want,” he shrugs.

“Really? Because there’s a good chance you won’t be able to live your life the same way you have been once I do that.”

“Then it’ll just change. I would expect it to if you’re coming back into my life again.”

“Oh my god, you’re so—”, you’re at a loss for words.

You decide to crawl into his space and pepper kisses into his skin. He smells like a strange blend of you and him, but the smell is reassuring in some way unknown to you. You sit there for the rest of the night, breathing him in like smoke