HIMBO TAEHYUNG HIMBO TAEHYUNG HIMBO TAEHYUNG!!!!!

HIMBO TAEHYUNG HIMBO TAEHYUNG HIMBO TAEHYUNG!!!!!

God he was so adorable in this. I adoration member!povs and getting a look at what is going on inside of their head throughout the entire fic!! Hearing the way that Taehyung thought, his reasoning, every little tangent he went on was so cute and I loved it so much!!!

The way he got distracted every two seconds had me falling for him so fast!!

I absolutely adore this collab and thank you OP for writing this!!! It was so much fun to read <333

himbo hours | kth

Trouble always seems to follow Taehyung. An innocent night of finding new friends to share his alcohol, drugs, and boxy smiles quickly turns into a mess when he accidentally punches you, a poor, unsuspecting clubgoer, right in the face. Whoops!

» pairing: himbo!taehyung x reader

» genre: BTS | 18+ | pwp | smut | humor | strangers to lovers

» Part of the Jeju Shore Collaboration

» wc/date: 7k | September 2022

» warnings: tae's pov | accidental punch to the face | alcohol | cocaine | smoking (cigarettes) | tae is truly an idiot | blowjob (choking) | cunnilingus | sex in public (in nature lol) | unprotected vaginal sex | creampie | fingering | sex while high / intoxicated (consensual) | taehyung BUTT-ASS NEKKED

» notes: fuck a meet-cute, we're all about meet-uglies in this house 😌 pls let me know your thoughts about himbo tae's pov! i really love writing the members' pov, so i'd love to know if y'all like it too

» masterlist | ao3 | join my taglist

» what was jai listening to? the jeju shore spotify playlist

Taehyung was a chill dude, alright? He came to Jeju Shore to have fun with his bros, do some drugs, fuck some pretty girls, and maybe get a tan. Super chill. 

In all honesty, he probably would have preferred to be playing Farmville than standing at the bar with a vodka shot in his hand and a lost puppy look on his face. But sometimes he had an itch he just had to scratch and today that was, uhhhh, getting drunk at the club and nursing his coke addiction, maybe? Seemed about right! 

If only he could find his friends. 

Jimin and Jungkook were nowhere to be found. Tae couldn’t really even remember if the two guys had even gone to the club with him; the pregame at their vacation home was pretty wild. So now he had a shot of vodka he was supposed to give to his soulmate, Jimin, and yet the guy was missing in action. What was Tae supposed to do? His bromance was clearly not as strong as he thought it was! 

Guess it was time to get crossed. 

Taehyung threw the shot back, shivering a little at the slight sting as the vodka went down. He needed to find some new friends, but looking at the crowd of people gyrating to the music made his brain slosh around in his skull. Especially considering he wore neon green shutter shades that prevented him from seeing at least half of what was in view, and virtually no way of seeing far ahead. But, Sexy Chick by David Guetta and Akon was blasting through the club, and that’s all that really mattered.  

Eventually, his eyes landed on a guy dancing near the perimeter of the room. He grinned with large, bright teeth and laughed with his whole body as he vibed to the music. Taehyung made a beeline for him, drawn to the way he oozed happiness and innocence in a club full of debauchery. 

Approaching the guy, Tae waved his hand in his face. 

“Hey, dude! Do you wanna do a bump?!” So much for innocence, right? 

Taehyung was just trying to be nice. When someone had drugs, they were supposed to share. Wasn’t that what the DARE Program was all about? DARE rhymes with share, and sharing is caring, something along those lines… 

Speaking of lines! Taehyung couldn’t understand why the guy he was trying to share with kept sticking out his fist. Every time Taehyung tried to grab him, the guy would just jab his fist into the air. He looked like such a nice guy, so Taheyung was sure he wasn’t trying to cause any trouble. Unlike half the population around here. 

“FIST PUMP?!”

“No, I said, Do. You. Wanna. Do. A. BUMP?!” 

“YEAH, FIST PUMP, BRO!” 

This wasn’t going the way Tae thought it would, but maybe that wasn’t such a bad thing. Fist pumping was pretty fucking epic, wasn’t it? Gave him a rush, like he was punching all his energy into the universe. He was being helpful. The universe needed more good energy, anyway. Everyone was so emo all the time. 

But soon Taehyung realized fist pumping was all fun and games until he felt his knuckles crack against something solid, but soft. A small shriek was just barely audible over the bumping of the club music, and Taehyung watched you double over beside him with your hands pressed against your cheek. 

Oh shit. 

“What the fuck, dude?!” 

Two girls flanked you, one of them stepping forward to jab a manicured finger into Taehyung’s chest while the other checked your injury. 

“What the fuck is wrong with you? You think you can go around punching people in the fucking face, huh? Who the fuck do you think you are?” 

“I d-d-didn’t m-m-mean to.” 

Taehyung twisted around to have the smiling boy vouch for him, but he was nowhere to be found. Why was everyone in Jeju Shore so aggressive?? Well, maybe it wasn’t that it was Jeju Shore specifically, but more that it was the people Taehyung was spending time with. He’d already almost gotten into a bar fight the day before. In his defense, the scary guy’s girlfriend was flirting with Taehyung, not the other way around. 

At least the two girls didn’t have glass bottles to throw at him, though he figured they could get some if they wanted to. Who knew clubbing was so dangerous? 

Right when the girl looked like she was going to clock Taehyung, you placed a hand on her shoulder. 

“Kimmy, it’s fine.” 

“The fuck it’s not!” 

“I swear, it’s fine.” Your eyes met Taehyung’s for a split second and he felt his breath get caught in his throat. 

You were quite possibly the prettiest person he’d ever seen in his life. Probably the prettiest in the entire world. In the entire universe. Definity in the club and Jeju Shore and, fuck, everywhere. Taehyung had punched the prettiest person in the history of human existence. What was wrong with him?! He could feel his stomach start to twist, and he wiped his now clammy hands onto the thighs of his jeans. He really shouldn’t have worn an all-denim outfit; he was starting to sweat all over. 

“I’m gonna go to the bathroom, okay? Can you guys just wait for me at the bar?” 

Kimmy and the other girl nodded, shooting Taehyung dirty glares as they pushed their way through the crowd. He watched you give him another quick glance before you turned and slipped into the crowd, too. His fingers twitched at his sides, grasping for nothing. There was no way he was letting you go. 

“Wait, wait!” 

Taehyung’s voice was drowned out by the heavy bass of some EDM dubstep-type shit vibrating through the air in violent sound waves. He shoved through gyrating bodies and people sucking each other’s faces until he made it to the perimeter of the club to see you turn the corner into the short hallway that led to the bathrooms. 

Taehyung’s shutter shades made him bump into at least three people before some guy snatched them off his face, his nails slightly scratching the apple of Taehyung’s cheek. 

“Bro, fucking take these off, you look like a douchebag.” The guy flung the shades into the crowd and Taehyung nearly got lost in the colors of the psychedelic club lights reflecting off the lime green plastic before it disappeared into the crowd. 

Shit, he needed to focus. 

Taehyung did a little jog towards the bathrooms once he found a clearing in the crowd. Maybe it was nerves or maybe it was his inebriated state, but his stomach continued to flip and his heart was beating a little bit too fast as it clawed its way up his throat. Gathering up his courage, he took a deep breath and pushed through the bathroom doors. Maybe he should have tried to freshen himself up before he ran after you. Taehyung already knew the smell of sweat and vodka had found its home in his clothes and the fluffy waves of his hair. He lifted his hand to touch his head, grimacing to find his bangs were stuck to his forehead with sweat. Quickly catching his reflection in one of the mirrors, Taehyung fluffed around his hair until he looked less… keyed up. 

He almost forgot why he was even trying to look cute until he heard a light cough from one of the stalls. You stepped out with a lit cigarette dangling from your fingers. Taehyung watched you bring the cigarette to your lips, a little bit of your black lipstick smudging onto the butt of it. 

“Hey!” Taehyung shouted a bit too enthusiastically in the tight space. 

You shot him a glare as Taehyung took a step closer. With barely any space separating you, you flicked your cigarette onto the floor. If he was sober he may have considered the possibility that he was overstepping boundaries, but he was simply determined to close the gap between himself and an absolute angel. 

So maybe it was his spidey senses tingling or the fact that he was turnt, but Taehyung had enough sense to do a half skip to the side just as your leg unexpectedly flew forward. The toe of your pink and white checkered Vans smashed right into the meat of his thigh, just barely missing the most precious part of him. He could practically feel his balls retracting into his body out of fear. 

“Ow, hey! Stop it!” Taehyung crossed his arms across his groin in a shield against a possible double attack. “I’m just trying to help!” 

You glowered at Taehyung, eyes scanning his pathetic stance. He was sure you were taking in his blown-out pupils and red-tinged eyes, but hopefully, he could give you a smoldering look and that would woo you. The idea flashed through his head and he immediately executed it without much thought, standing to his full height and giving you his classic smirk. His chin slightly tilted up and he carded his hand through his hair, tongue sweeping the inside of his cheek. 

“Hey,” he tried again, eyebrows raised. 

“If you touch me I swear to god I will fuck your shit up,” you insisted, arms crossed against your chest. “I’ll scream.” 

Taehyung’s eyes grew wide and he dropped all attempts to be sexy. 

“I just wanted to say I’m sorry for hurting you,” he said with a deep pout and sad puppy eyes that would have been a bit more convincing if the two of you weren’t standing in the bathroom of a fucking nightclub. 

You brought your hands down to stick them inside your pockets. Taehyung noticed your thong was exposed by your low-rise jeans and the fact that you were wearing a tiny Juicy Couture tank top that showed your midriff. 

God, why did he already feel like he was going to get hard just by looking at you? He really needed to lay off the coke. 

“I’m okay, Rocky” you insisted, waving his concerns away. “Seriously, dude. Don’t worry about it.” 

Taehyung couldn’t possibly let it go, though. 

“I could totally take you to the hospital right now. I have my keys with me and I’m definitely okay to drive. I might look fucked up but my head is completely fucking clear, I swear.” Should he have driven the guys to the club? Absolutely not. Did it really matter? He already had a DUI before and the whole thing wasn’t that bad. “Do you want me to walk in a straight line? I can do it if that would help convin-” 

“I don’t need to go to the hospital, geez. It wasn’t that hard of a hit,” you said with a laugh and a shake of your head. You maneuvered around him to wash your hands in the sink. Catching his eyes through the mirror, you pointed to your spotless cheek as if to emphasize that you were fine. “You’re a weird dude, you know that? Chillax.” 

And with that, you spun on your heel and left. 

Taehyung stood with his mouth hanging open. He needed to chillax? You were the one who tried to kick his balls into his stomach! 

“Whoa, wait a second.” He followed you out of the bathroom and skidded to a halt when you turned around to face him. 

“What now, Rocky?”

“You kicked me!” 

“You punched me! We’re even now,” you countered. You leaned your shoulder against the wall and gave him a smirk. “Although I wouldn’t say no if you wanted to pay me back in another way.” 

Now that was a language Taehyung understood. His pout morphed into a boxy grin and the way he looked your body over was undeniably obvious. 

“I could think of a few things.” 

“Ugh, gross, I meant maybe you could buy me a drink or something.” 

Oof. His beautiful angel was calling him gross. That was a buzzkill if he ever had one. But Taehyung was not the type to let people get him down! He leaned his shoulder against the wall to match your stance, shortening the distance between the two of you. You were close enough for him to feel your breath brush against the base of his neck, and you had to tilt your head up to meet his gaze. 

“Or something?” he mused. 

You chewed on your bottom lip as you contemplated his question and Taehyung tried to ignore the way you being so close to him was making his mouth dry. “Yeah, or something.” 

“Wanna do a bump? Not a fist pump. That’s how we ended up here, fuck. A bump. You know what that means?” He was confused about the little puff of laughter you exhaled at his question, but you were talking again before he could do anything more. 

“Yeah, why not.” 

Taehyung found himself grinning again, and the giggly, bubbly, floaty way he was soaring into action made him feel like he really was on cloud nine. He grabbed your hand and dragged you back into the bathroom. From his pocket, Taehyung retrieved a dime bag of white powder. 

“I like to pack it small. Makes it easier, right?” But when he looked up, you were looking at him, not the bag. He grinned, a quirked eyebrow shortly following. “You okay with the sink?”

There was your damn laugh again, though this time you gave him the courtesy of pointing out what was so funny. Taehyung followed your gaze to see a large neon sign hanging on the wall: PLEASE DON’T DO COKE IN THE BATHROOM. 

“Oops,” he pouted as he meticulously dumped the perfect line up the bathroom sink. The location was more than questionable, but what other surface could they use? Club bathrooms were always disgusting, especially in this part of Jeju Shore. The two of you were drunk enough that cleanliness (or a lack thereof) wasn’t going to deter you. His cute freckled nose breathed in until nothing was left. He shivered, pinching his nostrils for a few seconds before letting you take over. 

Shit, he should have asked to snort it off of you. What the fuck was he, a rookie?! 

“I’m Y/N, by the way,” you said with a sniffle, allowing Taehyung to stash his little bag away. 

“Oh, right. I should have introduced myself. Wow. I’m doing this all wrong.” Taehyung smacked himself in the forehead and immediately regretted the decision. “I’m Taehyung.” 

“Hmm, Taehyung’s cuter than Rocky. A cute name for a weird guy.” 

“I’m not cute?” 

“Maybe a little.” 

“Well, I think you’re gorgeous. Like really fucking beautiful. I feel like you’re the most perfect person in the world.” Taehyung reached out to lace his fingers with yours and pulled you forward.  

You leaned in to brush a bit of powder off his nose. “Oh yeah? That’s bold for a guy who just punched me.” 

“I’m serious,” Taehyung breathed. The alcohol and narcotics pumping through his veins were boosting his confidence tenfold, so he didn’t feel nervous when he grabbed you and slid his fingers beneath the thin waistband of your thong at your hips. The feeling of your skin hot beneath his fingertips had him absolutely delirious. “Fuck, I wanna kiss you so bad. It would feel so good.” 

Taking hold of his jean jacket, you yanked Taehyung closer to you. He sucked in his breath when he felt your fingers skate across his chest since he was shirtless underneath. So maybe he was acting a little desperate. And maybe he didn’t care. But Taehyung ducked his head to get closer to you with his eyes fluttering closed and his pink lips parted. 

“No way you’re kissing me in here.” You pulled yourself free from Taehyung’s embrace and the deep pout he wore on his face made you laugh. You hooked your finger through his belt loop with a little tug. “Come on, Rocky. We’re going swimming.” 

Taehyung stumbled behind you as you dragged him out of the nightclub and into the warm summer air twinged with salt from the ocean so close by. He was more than happy to have you lead him across the boardwalk and down to the beach, not even caring that his Tims were filling with sand and the moisture was turning the tips dark brown. 

“Show me how beautiful you think I am.”

You threw the challenge over your shoulder as you ran towards the ocean. Taehyung watched with his tongue practically lolling in his mouth as you tossed your tank top onto the ground. 

“Fuck,” he muttered under his breath, rushing to follow you. 

By the time he’d reached the edge of the water, you were in nothing but your bra and thong, already in the ocean up to your waist. You swam close to a smattering of rocks in the water, sticking nearby in case you needed something to hold onto. Taehyung quickly ripped off his clothes and tossed them into the sand with yours. Although the water lapping at his ankles as he carefully waded to you would have felt chilly, he felt fine thanks to the alcohol-induced heat spreading through his body. Or maybe the heat was from finally reaching you. 

It was definitely your close proximity that had his heart pounding in his chest, despite the concoction of alcohol and narcotics. You beckoned him closer, but all Taehyung could focus on was the way beads of water shimmered on your skin and how he could see your nipples erect from the cool temperature through your bra. The moonlight glittered like diamonds across the water’s surface and into your eyes as you wrapped your arms around his broad shoulders. 

“Are you gonna kiss me or what, Rocky?” 

Taehyung grinned like an idiot at the (unfortunately) fitting nickname you were determined to make stick. He felt like the two of you were close now that you’d given him a nickname. That was a pretty big deal, right? Even if it was a boxing reference. 

“Yes, please,” Taehyung whispered as he repeated his action from earlier, ducking his head down to finally reach your face. 

He playfully bumped his nose against yours and your giggles were just as gentle as the waves rolling in around you. Something about you made him want to take his time. He brushed his lips against yours, offering a small sigh when he felt your tongue glide out to swipe against his bottom lip. Your impatience had you pulling Taehyung even closer. The water made your bodies stick together and Taehyung could feel you spread your legs slightly to rub yourself against his cock. His soaked briefs did nothing to hide how aroused he was; all they acted as was merely a second skin by this point. The same was true for your already flimsy thong.  

“Shit.” He groaned against your lips and tried not to buck his hips forward. It was an increasingly difficult feat once you lifted one leg to hook around Taehyung’s waist. The action opened your thighs a bit more and allowed you to press your core directly against his cock. 

“I told you to kiss me. Don’t you want to?” Your whine had Taehyung’s cock twitching so bad he was using your grinding against his cock to both chase pleasure and calm himself down. Water splashed between your bodies when you pressed yourself fully against his chest. Your hands migrated to the wavy hair at the back of Taehyung’s head. The tug you gave his hair brought his lips crashing into yours. 

The kiss was sloppy and salty and utterly desperate. Your limbs weaved with Taehyung’s like your tongues circled each other, mouths hot and bodies cool. One hand dropped down to grab your thigh, holding the leg you’d crossed over his waist in place. Keeping you steady made it easier for Taehyung to roll his hips into yours. He enjoyed the way you held back moans when the head of his clothed cock pressed against your clit through your thong. Taehyung was never afraid to be vocal. If anything, it seemed to heighten the tension that built up between him and his partner. 

So when you dragged your nails down Taehyung’s abdomen he was perfectly willing to whimper until your hand slipped inside of his briefs. His whimpers morphed into full moans as you squeezed his cock. You effortlessly pumped him until he was biting your lips, your neck, your shoulder - wherever he could to leave marks and release as much pressure as he possibly could. 

It was only when you pulled his briefs down enough to release his cock that Taehyung finally broke free of your spell. 

“Fuck, Y/N, wait,” Taehyung said with a shaky exhale and placed his hand over yours. It took all of his willpower to stop your thumb from circling the slit of his head.  “Let me put you up here.” 

He grabbed your hips and lifted you onto a smooth part of the rock so that you were no longer in the water. He was always telling Jungkook about not fucking people in pools; it was definitely bad for vaginal health. The ocean had to be way worse! Taehyung didn’t really consider himself to be responsible, but he knew how to be a gentleman, he was pretty sure. The whole punching thing was totally an outlier. Really. 

“Are you serious?” You watched Taehyung lift himself out of the water and he was acutely aware of how long your gaze lingered on his body. 

“It’s not good to have sex in the ocean,” he insisted. “Fish shit in there. Plus, pollution. Algae. Whatever else! We’ve only explored, like, twenty percent of the ocean!” 

It seemed like common sense! Yet there you were, laughing at him again. Could he really be that funny? Jungkook and Jimin never thought so. 

“That’s what you’re thinking about? Getting germs in this pussy instead of your dick?” 

The question shut Taehyung up. He wasn’t sure what to say, since… yes, you were correct. That was what he was thinking about, but he assumed it was a good thing. He was being responsible. Yeah, he realized that wasn’t particularly sexy of him, but he’d be damned if he was the one who caused you to get a yeast infection! Or even worse! (He wasn’t sure what would be worse, but there definitely had to be something worse.) 

“I take my partner’s safety very seriously,” he finally responded with a pout and furrowed brows. 

“Hmm…” You smirked at Taehyung as he inched towards you to hover over your body. He didn’t give a fuck if he got any cuts on his palms and knees. “I’m your partner now?” 

“Yes.” He leaned down to lick a smooth stripe up your neck that made you shiver beneath him. 

“Sounds a little possessive.” 

Taehyung sucked dark hickeys onto the tops of your tits while his hands roamed down to spread your legs so he could position himself between them. Possessive wasn’t the way he’d describe his personality, yet he couldn’t help but enjoy the thought of you walking around the next morning with his hickeys covering your chest. Or, even better, the thought of you with his cum still inside of you. Those thoughts alone had Taehyung’s breathing pick up speed, and he sucked your skin even harder. 

“Maybe.” His expression grew soft as looked up to meet your lidded eyes. “Can I have you?” 

With your lip bitten between your teeth, you slowly nodded. 

The boxy grin and crinkled eyes he gave you in response were enough to make anyone give in to him. 

You leaned back and propped yourself on your forearms as Taehyung planted kisses against your wet skin. He ran his tongue along the crease of your thigh where the edge of your thong sat plastered against your body. Ocean water made you taste salty, but Taehyung didn’t mind. If anything, it made his mouth water even more for you. 

He pressed his tongue flat against your clothed pussy and flicked upwards until the tip of his tongue pushed against your clit. Despite your thong being in the way, it was so wet and tight against your lips that Taehyung could see your swollen clit through it by the light of the moon. He sucked and nipped it over the fabric, his dark eyes locked with yours to watch your face scrunch up in pleasure. If he thought you were beautiful before, you were near deadly now. Your lips were puffy from how much he’d bitten them and he could only think about how sweet your tongue might feel circling his cock when he watched it slip out to wet your lips. But the most beautiful part was the way the moonlight’s diamonds continued to dance in your eyes. 

When you bucked into his face, he hooked his arms around your thighs to hold them in place. The position allowed your legs to drape over Taehyung’s broad shoulders and he pulled you closer to his face. 

“F-F-Fuck.” 

The way you whimpered and shivered beneath his hot mouth only fueled the fire within him. Every desperate sound that tumbled from your lips sent ripples of electricity straight to his throbbing cock. He pulled at your thong with his teeth and the soaked fabric dragged down your legs with ease until you were kicking them away. 

“Don’t you want to be careful…?” Taehyung asked as you reached behind yourself to unclasp your bra. That article of clothing was also tossed to the side, very close to the edge of the rock. 

Taehyung was pretty sure lingerie was expensive. He’d never bought any before, but he’d seen plenty. The lacey bits, all the straps, the intricate designs, and the little buckles, clips, and clasps. Anything even remotely difficult for him to remove had to be expensive in his opinion. Maybe next time he was in a relationship he would buy some lingerie, so that way he knew. Maybe he could buy some for you. 

“Who cares?” You snapped, too impatient for his stupid questions. You reached down to tangle your fingers in his hair. “If you don’t fuck me with your mouth right now, I swear to god.” You gave his hair a tug and Taehyung moaned, leaning into your pull. 

He’d eat fucking sand if you told him to. Shovel it in with both hands like it was his last meal. 

“Don’t worry,” he murmured against your stomach, each word punctuated by a soft kiss that chased away little beads of water. “I wanna give you whatever you want.” 

You squirmed as he swirled his tongue across your skin lower and lower until he finally traced your lips with the tip of his tongue. Rather than diving in, though, he pulled his face away and brought his wet fingers to you instead. Taehyung ran his finger along your clit. His movements were slow; he wanted to savor the feeling of you attempting to squeeze your legs around his shoulders while he teased you. 

“You like that?” Taehyung flashed you a grin. He was determined to commit your expression to memory: fucked out and concentrated, lips parted in another whine. Desperate despite the fact that you’d been calling the shots. He liked it, you telling him what to do. That didn’t mean he couldn’t tease you a little bit, though. 

“Fuck, yes, don’t be a dick about it,” you challenged with a shudder and a buck of your hips. You tried using your legs to pull yourself against his face, but Taehyung held you down. 

“So needy and impatient,” he murmured. His tongue slipped out to lick at a few beads of water trickling down the inside of your thigh. “Maybe say please first? Everyone in Jeju has terrible manners.” 

You gasped when Taehyung’s teeth bit at the skin he’d just licked. He was sure the sharp pain was welcomed when your hold of his hair tightened. It was interesting. 

“Please, I wanna feel you.” 

At first, Taehyung only somewhat obliged. He brought his mouth down to your pussy, pressing a gentle kiss against your clit that made you tug his hair even harder. Figuring he should probably give you what you so politely asked for, Taehyung licked at your entrance, lapping up your arousal while you got as comfortable as you could - considering you were on a fucking rock. 

“Mmm,” he moaned against your clit. “You taste good.” 

As was the case with your skin, the ocean made you taste salty, but Taehyung was never the type to judge someone’s body. Unlike some douchebags, he was very willing to drown in pussy. He’d suffocate in it. You could have squeezed his head until he exploded and he’d be perfectly okay with that. What you tasted like mattered very little. 

The waves slapping against the rock formed a rhythm that seemed to mimic the way Taehyung licked at you. He pushed your arousal up to your clit, wetting it further by spitting directly onto it. Each long swipe of his tongue had your breathing grow heavier and your heart rate increase. When he wiggled his tongue back and forth over your clit, the moan you granted him had Taehyung vibrating. A hard suck of your clit earned him an even louder one. 

“Fuck, if you’d told me you eat pussy like this I wouldn’t have tried to fight you.” 

Your words came out tough until the last few lifted upwards in a whimper. Taehyung had slipped two fingers inside of you and began passionately thrusting into your front wall as he continued sucking your clit. He was buzzing from the praise, eager to do whatever it took to get more out of you. Each flick and swirl of his tongue grew faster, and Taehyung didn’t mind the mix of spit and arousal that was smeared all over his mouth and chin. 

“Oh my god, Taehyung, just, just like that, please.” 

It was cute that you were using the magic word on your own now. Your legs tried to close around him, but he kept you spread wide open as rocked his face and pumped his fingers into you. His jaw and tongue were starting to get really fucking tired, but there was no way he was going to give up now. Nope. Not when your legs were beginning to shake and your fingers were digging into Taehyung’s hair so hard that it hurt.

“Ohh fuck, I’m gonna cum.” Honestly, he probably could’ve busted a nut just from hearing you say those beautiful, beautiful words. 

You arched your back and bucked your hips against Taehyung’s face. Your walls were convulsing so hard that he struggled to keep pumping his fingers into you as you trembled through your orgasm. All he could really do was suck your clit with the lightest of kitten licks flicking against the tip as he finally allowed your thighs to squeeze his head. The pressure caused Taehyung to suck in a sharp breath, but he let you ride his face until you were panting so loudly all he heard was you, rather than the ocean, in his ears. 

After a moment your legs finally eased off of Taehyung’s shoulders. He waited until your breathing returned to normal before he moved up your body to slot his lips with yours. 

“Was it okay?” The smirk Taehyung wore said that he knew it was, but he asked to be polite. Or to receive the praise he so loved from you. 

“Just okay.” You shot your own smirk back, but you both knew. “Your turn.” 

Taehyung frowned, taking a look around the space you occupied. Although head sounded so fucking good, it wasn’t realistic. 

“It’s okay,” Taehyung pushed, determined to make you change your mind. “I don’t want you to hurt your knees.” Be it bending over to suck his dick or ride him, the rock’s surface was sure to cut your knees, or at least bruise them. 

You crossed your arms over your chest in what Taehyung assumed was about to be a ready stance to be defiant. 

“Fine.” You slowly rested your body back down to a lying position, but you angled your head upwards to stretch out your neck more. “Then fuck my face like this.” 

You stuck your tongue out to open your mouth all the way for him. Assuming the moonlight wasn’t playing tricks on him, he saw a bit of spit drip from the tip. On top of that, both of your hands came up to play with your tits, nimble fingers pinching at your nipples until they grew hard. 

Taehyung just about passed out. 

“You’re nasty.” The statement nearly came out as a moan, but Taehyung did his best to control himself. He leaned on his knees beside your head and brought one of his hands down to cradle your jaw. “Are you sure?” 

“Yes,” you insisted. You lifted your head to wrap your lips around the head of his cock and Taehyung cried out with an instinctual buck of his hips. Alright, he got it. He understood. You were serious, fuck, he was going to listen. 

Keeping one hand on your jaw, Taehyung held the back of your head with the other to make sure his movements didn’t make your head hit the rock’s surface. Then he leaned forward to guide his cock into your mouth. Goosebumps rose along his arms and a shiver snaked its way down his back when he bottomed out. The warmth of your mouth was in stark contrast to the cool ocean air. Not only did it feel heavenly the way you pressed your tongue along the underside of his cock as he gently thrusted into your throat, but it felt comfortable. Like he was made to fit you in the most perfect way. 

“Shit, please tell me if I’m hurting you.” 

It was all Taehyung could manage to sputter out as his grip tightened on your jaw and his thrusts pushed deeper into you. You choked in response, the gagging causing drool to leak from the corners of your mouth, but you kept your hands to your tits and didn’t push him away. When you swallowed around his cock, Taehyung let his head hang low and had to stop his movements to compose himself. 

“I’m so fucking high,” he whimpered, gently starting up again. The hypersensitivity was really doing him in because every time he pulled away to see strings of precum and saliva connect the tip of his cock to your lips his head was reeling. He was tumbling toward an orgasm so quickly that paranoia settled in and he started to panic. 

“Oh fuck, baby, fuck, I gotta, I gotta stop.” Taehyung leaned back, your mouth releasing him with a pop and a smack of your lips. You watched him with hungry eyes that only made it harder for him to relax. 

“Are you going to bust quick? Is this about to be two-second-long sex?” Your words sounded accusatory but you licked your lips as you waited for a response. 

“No, no. I swear I’m not like that!” he pleaded. “I’m just, I just… It was just…” 

“Get over here, dude.” 

Your interruption was welcomed. It gave Taehyung the chance to shut up. Even if you hadn’t said anything, your actions would have left him speechless. His dark eyes watched you open your legs and slide your fingers down to part your lips - a view of everything he needed. 

What the fuck was he fumbling his words for and wasting time?? 

Taehyung leaned into you, slotting himself between your legs and gently easing you down with his hand on the small of your back. 

“You don’t have to be so gentle,” you murmured against his lips as his teeth grazed against them, nipping at them each time he felt you sigh. 

“Fuck.” Taehyung heard you loud and clear. He brought three fingers to your face. When he pulled down on your bottom lip you obediently opened up to let him shove them into your mouth. You swirled your tongue around his fingers and Taehyung closed his eyes, reveling in the feel of your warm mouth once again. Properly coated with your saliva, Taehyung dragged his fingers along your clit until he reached your entrance. You welcomed him easily, his fingers gliding in and out without resistance. 

“Please, Taehyung,” you groaned, impatiently grinding your hips into his hand.

Pulling his hand away, Taehyung finally replaced it with what you’d both been waiting for. He leaned back on his knees and grabbed your hips to lift your body up and pull you towards him. You bit into your hand to avoid releasing a loud moan as he sank into you, likely a bit faster than you would have expected. But you were impatient and you said he didn’t need to be so gentle, so Taehyung was allowing himself to dive in deep. 

“I told you, you’re so perfect,” Taehyung sighed as he bottomed out. He couldn’t begin to explain to you how warm and wanted you made him feel. Sure, it was probably just the alcohol and drugs talking, but at that moment he felt like there was no one else he was meant to be with but you. 

After he gave you a moment to adjust to him, Taehyung rolled his hips into yours. Going slow in the beginning gave him the opportunity to figure out what you liked and where all your pressure points were. With each thrust, he adjusted his angle to find the spot that would make your legs shake. It wasn’t difficult to hit the right angle nor was it difficult to tell that he’d found it. You immediately squealed, the sound muffled by the crash of ocean waves, and clawed at Taehyung’s forearms. 

“Ohh, Taehyung, you feel so good,” you whimpered. “Faster, please please.” 

His fingers dug into your hips to the point that he was sure it was painful as he began pounding into you. All you could do was hold onto his arms, occasionally letting your hands drop down to claw at his thighs when you got tired of holding your arms out. 

Maybe both of you should have been more concerned about fucking someone random, in the middle of the ocean, no less. But there was no condom nor a working brain cell in sight between the two of you. Instead, there was only salty sweat and slippery cum that made your bodies glide together with the most perfect amount of friction that it was you who was on the verge of busting a nut too quick. 

“Oh my god,” you exclaimed, frantically pushing against Taehyung’s thrusts. “I’m so glad you fucking punched me, fuck fuck fuck.” 

You almost threw him off his rhythm, and he had to squeeze you hard to hold you down. In his delirium, Taehyung caught you bringing your fingers to rub your clit. 

“Let me, okay?” 

He pried your hand from your body and leaned down to spit onto your clit. His fingers quickly took up where you left off, rubbing right circles around your soaked clit until you were a moaning mess writhing beneath him. You began squeezing around his cock so tightly that Taehyung had to practice deep, slow breathing to keep it together. He leaned forward to plant his forearms beside your head and bury his face into the crook of your neck as he fucked you through your orgasm. 

Both of you could be happy to know that the sex did, in fact, last longer than two seconds! Taehyung liked to think that it lasted just the right amount of time before he was completely losing his cool, hips sputtering all over the place and his lips locked tightly to your skin. 

“Inside,” you turned your head to whisper in his ear as you wrapped your legs around his waist to hold him in place. “I wanna feel you, come on baby. Be a good boy for me.” 

That alone was enough to send Taehyung over the edge, finishing inside of you just how you told him to, with his arms shaking. Sweat and saltwater plastered his bangs he tried so hard to keep pretty for you onto his head. He lifted himself off of you just in time to watch a bit of his cum trickle out of you. 

“We’re disgusting,” Taehyung announced as he swirled the cum around with his fingers and stuck it back inside of you. When he brushed his thumb against your clit you groaned and quickly snapped your thighs shut. 

“We need a fucking shower.” 

Taehyung stood on wobbly legs and stuck out his hand to help you onto just as wobbly of legs. He pressed his palms into his eyes while you searched for your underwear that had long been devoured by the ocean. “Do your eyes burn? Fuck, mine burn so bad.” 

“Don’t worry, Rocky. I don’t have gonorrhea or anything,” you waved him off with a snort. “It’s just the saltwater.” 

“I didn’t mean that! I wasn’t thinking that!” Taehyung sputtered, also giving up on finding his underwear. He followed you as you hopped back into the water, quite literally concerned that he might drown from the fact that his body hadn’t started working properly yet. It was unrealistic to expect to cuddle after sex on a rock, but a guy could dream, right?? 

In the water, you wrapped your arms around Taehyung’s neck to pull him in for a passionate kiss, your tongue exploring the mess that was his mouth. He tried to snake his arms around your waist, but you quickly spun out of his embrace. 

“First one to the beach gets to keep the other’s clothes?” 

It took a moment for Taehyung’s brain to process what you’d said, just a moment too long. You were splashing and kicking the water as you hightailed it to the shore before Taehyung could even form a coherent sentence. 

“WAIT!!” he shouted, doing his best to wade through the water. How many times was he going to yell that word at you? And was it wrong that he admired your cute ass when you reached down to scoop up his discarded clothes? Maybe the karma was that you ran into the sand while he stood at the shoreline butt-ass naked. 

If you kept his clothes, though, that meant you’d have to see him again to give them back. And Taehyung was perfectly okay with that. 

all rights reserved © gimmethatagustd on tumblr & ao3

do not copy, repost, modify, or translate any of my work  

@miss-jupiter @moonchild1 @moonleeai @nch327 @nonbinary-demonbrat @notbotheredtho @notsooperfect @parkdatjimin @polipiper @reliablemitten @rjsmochii @saweetspoiled @seoul-soul-127 @stillinedwardcullenera @sugarwithtea @unsureofwhathappens @xjoonchildx @yoongukie-ff @yu-justme @aislinnstanaka @bbtsficrecs @che-er-ful @coffeebooksandromantics @confusedbansheee @ekjalxd @familiarlikemymirror3 @fan-ati--c @furryfortae @haliiimede @highly-functioning-mitochondria @jjkeverlast @jwlmnbt @klitklittredge @koobsessed @lemonadecandycandy

“sTOP talking about politics and genocide on writers blogs!!! unless given permission!!!” bitch stfu you realize how fuckin stupid you sound, and then you DELETED TOOOOO crazyyy. but i ain’t reading all that, FREE PALESTINE. 🇵🇸

d-day in japan 'haegeum' (vid cr. jung-koook)

---

Oh my god Jimin is absolutely adorable in this fic. From his is “shitty” one-liners (even though I for one found them endearing!!!!) to the reader and his dynamic (brat will always be a weakness, I will admit) to him stopping making out so he can dance!! All of it was so cute and had me falling for him so easily!!!!

Fuck and don’t even get me started on the whole “I’ll be a nice guy for you” thing. The little “lipstick” bit too

I would love to know what happens to this couple after tonight— I like to imagine that they hook up a few more times and then start going steady but that might just be me being a hopeless romantic DJCNFOF.

Thank you so much OP!!! This is rlly giving me my Jersey Shore fix!!!! <333

You DTF? | pjm | (m)

☾ Pairing:  Jimin x female reader 

☾ Summary: You’ve never had a one night stand. Jimin has had countless. You’re trying to experience new things. Jimin loves doing the same old shit. So when you meet the man going around the club inviting people to touch his ripped abs, you think perhaps this is the perfect opportunity to try new things. It’s Labor Day weekend at the shore - what can go wrong? 

☾ Word Count:  10,233

☾ Genre: Smut, pwp, strangers to one-night stand

☾ Rating: 18+ Minors are strictly prohibited from engaging and reading this content. It contains explicit content and any minors discovered reading or engaging with this work will be blocked immediately. 

☾ Warnings: Recreational drinking, Jimin being a total tool, cringe-worthy dialogue, explicit language, fuck boy Jimin is it’s own warning, 2009 slang should be a warning because it is literally so cringey, Jimin is quite literally doing the jerk and reader is totally buying it, literally these two are so cringe, sexually explicit content including oral (f. and m. receiving), some nipple play, a lot of spit description idk, big dig Jimin, throat fucking, unprotected vagina sex, Jimin bein an idiot and combing reader not to use a condom, reader is equally stupid cause she wants to get fucked, Jimin accidentally cumming inside, hittin' it from the back, cringe dirty talk, finger blasting (lmfao), Jimin occasionally hitting reader's cervix, they're like a little toxic idk, this is like the most hilarious thing I've ever written, Jimin does coke right on reader's counter cause he has to keep his stmania okay, Jimin is insensitive a lot

☾ Published: September 4, 2022

☾ A/N: This is both the best and the worst thing I have ever written. There are some light-toxic themes and some ignorant dialogue and behavior between the two of them because they're both bimbos drunk in 2009. The writing is supposed to be a little cringe but I may have gone overboard. Also I wrote this in two days idk what kind drugs I was on (amoxicillin and mucinex) but here is the wildly ridiculous and hilarious fic for a collab that no one asked for but we did anyways. Very very happy to share this trash idea with Jai and M 🥺

Special thanks to @here2bbtstrash for helping me edit because I was in a rush and at one point wrote that reader's head opened in the middle of sex. We don't know what I was talking about but happy halloween, reader's head was about to be posted splitting open in bed adkjadjdkja

☾ Disclaimer: All members of BTS are faces and name claims for this story. This is entirely a work of fiction and by no means is meant to be a projection, judgment or representation of real-life people. Any scenarios or representations of the people and places mentioned in works are not representative of real-life scenarios.

Masterlist | Ask | Playlist | Jeju Shore Collab

“So are you actually going to try and get fucked in that outfit or is it going to go to waste?” Tiffany asks as she sprays several pumps of Bath and Body Works Japanese Blossom all over herself. You cough as the sweet-smelling mist chokes you. She already has the lotion on. “You look hot, capital h-a-w-t.” 

The mirror of the hotel room is a little dirty - there is backsplash from the faucet staining the glass and some tiny dots of toothpaste. And you can definitely see Nicole’s fake tan staining the bottom corner after spraying her St. Tropez all over. 

You see Tiffany’s point about the outfit being wasted on you in a way. Low-rise, light-wash Lucky Brand jeans sans button, with the zipper pulled down just the slightest at Nicole’s behest. A shirt that was harder to get on than you think it will be to get off, made out of skin-tight pink fabric that only reaches your midsection, and even then, has a massive cutout over your abs. 

“Not this again,” you sigh, nervously playing with the belly button ring you had pierced the year before. A cute little Playboy bunny swings back and forth, hot pink rhinestones matching your shirt. 

“Yes, this again. You look so fucking hot tonight. A one-night stand will not kill you. It’s Labor Day. Please live a little.” Tiffany decides she has contributed to pollution enough, snapping the cap on her perfume bottle to turn around and face you. “You’re not in a relationship anymore. It’s time to be a slut.” 

“Yeeeeaaah be a slut!” Nicole yells, running into the room and grabbing you by the hips, slamming your ass into her crotch several times to crudely depict being fucked from behind. Her jean shorts are impossibly tight, red thong peeking out the sides. “It’s so much funner.”

“Funner isn’t a word.”

“God shut the fuck up for two seconds and be a hot idiot like Paris Hilton.”

Pushing your friend away, you nod. You love them and you know they’re right. You’re single and hot, and there are countless clubs all over with hot, single guys. You’ve never had a one-night stand, having been in a long-term relationship all throughout college until recently, and now you’re where single people come to get laid and you… have a night left to do it.

Tiffany’s iPod blasts in the living room of the hotel room. There are empty cups all over the counter, sticky and sweet smelling from the liquor and mixers spelled on most surfaces. You go to the fridge, pulling out a can of pineapple juice. 

Nicole gasps when she sees you reach for the bottle of Malibu on the counter. “WAIT! We need the song!” 

She rushes to the iHome, bending over the counter. She flips the song to Caribou Lou, wiggling her ass back and forth before she stands straight and points at you and the bottle of Malibu in your hands.

“151 rum, pineapple juice and malibu caribou get them all numb!” she screams, making you smile. 

Despite their earlier jesting, you relax as you mix drinks, singing along to the throwback while shaking your ass. The zipper on your jeans moves a few times, but you’re careful not to let your vagina make a surprise appearance. With how low-cut the jeans are, Tiffany had convinced you not to wear underwear.

Which was more of a reason to get laid. 

The drink is sweet and easy to drink. You scroll through your messages on BBM but otherwise give your attention to playing flip cup with your two best friends, determined to get just a little bit tipsy before you head out to the bars. 

The hotel isn’t very far away from all of the live entertainment. It’s within walking distance which saves a ton of money on cabs, but it is a nightmare for your feet the last three nights you’ve stumbled home in wedges. Nicole even broke one of her heels, walking home on uneven feet like a seesaw. 

When you’ve decided that you’ve pregamed enough, you and your friends teeter to the elevator and down through the lobby. Outside, the balmy air kisses your skin. A creamsicle sky has faded to black and you can see the lights of the entertainment district and hear the faint thunder of music from clubs with open doors and windows. 

You scrunch your nose when Nicole lights a cigarette on your walk. You smell the crackling menthol of her Newport as she takes a drag, hoarsely laughing at a group of men who catcall you from a sports bar as you walk by. You flick your hair over your shoulder, rolling your eyes. 

As if it were that easy.

Labor Day is in full swing around you. The street has barricades to open up to foot traffic only, and they’ve relaxed open container laws. There are a few food vendors on the road, people lined up to grab a quick slice of pizza or hot dogs to settle their tequila-churned stomachs.

A breeze makes your hair dance. It smells like fried food and a hint of salt from the ocean. It carries something else on it - a taste of something wild. You’re here with your friends on a vacation that you had originally planned to take with your boyfriend.

You can recognize now that it would have been a disaster. The two of you in a partying scene meant for singles would have signed your doom. But the end had come sooner than that when you found him with his dick down some girl's throat when you came home early from work. 

In hindsight, you always knew he wasn’t ready for a relationship. But you liked the way he called you baby, the way he peppered you with kisses to make you a little less angry at him, and the way that he made you feel when you weren’t fighting.

And you definitely like the way he drove his Escalade, and the fact that he could afford to take you places like the restaurant in the St. Regis and you stayed in lofty rooms at the Ritz Carlton while vacationing. 

Still. There had been a lot missing, namely in the bedroom, which is exactly why Tiffany and Nicole have been on your ass about at least trying to experience a one-night stand. They wanted you to expand your horizons, to learn what you do and don’t like, and to maybe stumble on someone who could actually make you cum more than two times out of ten. 

The first bar makes you lose a little hope. House music thumps loudly over the speakers. Jean-clad partygoers surround you, some on the dance floor shuffling their feet while maintaining a grip on sweating glasses and nodding their heads as the DJ thrusts a fist in the air. It’s not your type of club, but Nicole hits it off with someone in a larger group of people.

You exist on the edge of the conversation, picking at the slice of wilted pineapple in your drink as you watch the way Nicole plays her game. She’s excellent at flirting - a coy smile as she leans in to say something over the pumping music, balancing herself with a hand on his arm, swagging at his chest when he makes a funny joke.

It would be easy for you too if you thought any of the men were worth your time. They all look the same: bright polo, khaki shorts, hair gelled up. You want to tell them that Connecticut casual isn’t an outfit to the bar, but you say nothing, examining your nails for a while instead. 

One of the guys starts talking to you - Ben, you think his name might be. You bob your head to the music, listening as he explains what he does as a private financial advisor. Your eyes slip over every detail of his outfit: fitted Abercombie polo with the collar popped, khaki pants paired with brown sandals, a white shell necklace wrapped around a sunburned throat, and a tattoo of his former fraternity peeking from his sleeve on his bicep.

Whatever Ben is saying, you’re not listening. You’re almost positive that Ben fucks the way he dresses: generically. 

If you’re looking to experience something different, Ben - maybe Brian - isn’t it. You fucked Ben-Brians in college and they were as boring at sex as your ex-boyfriend was, except they couldn’t afford stone crab claws.

Everyone shifts to a new bar. You’ve molded your groups together, Ben or Brian - you’re starting to think maybe it’s Brad - is still by your elbow. You can sense he’s having a good time and you wish you were too. So you down a few shots at the next bar, loosening your limbs a little and making you a little less judgmental. 

Brad is okay. Not your type and he smells like Crest Whitestrips, but he’s more bearable now that you’ve switched from Pina Coladas to Tequila Sunsets. You nibble the stem of a cherry, enjoying this club much better than the last. The music is more hip hop and pop, familiar songs making you bob your head and sway your hips a little more.

Sweat makes your skin sticky. You shift to stand underneath the air vent by the bar a little more, but you misplace your wedge, knocking yourself off balance. Ben-Brian-Brad catches your arm and steadies you. Slides in closer. His mint breath fans your face and you blink up at him. For a split second, you consider if you were too harsh on his judgment earlier. Maybe he could surprise you. He seems easy enough to please and like it wouldn’t be hard work, and he’s already trying to win you over…

Your eyes slide past him for a second and your gaze stays fixed on the man you see coming down the stairs into the club. 

It’s nearly impossible to tear your gaze away once you see him. He runs a hand through his dark hair, laughing at something the man next to him says. He’s in dark jeans with bleached patches highlighting the material, a fitted Love Kills Slowly shirt by Ed Hardy, and even from a distance, you can see the glittering earrings in his ears.

He’s beautiful. Full lips pulling into a smirk as he winks at people he walks past. Brad rights you, asking you something but you don’t hear him, staring at the man across the bar who leans on the counter. He’s helped immediately, two bartenders drifting to a siren as they stare at him. 

As though he senses your gaze, the man looks at you and your face goes red. His eyes are seductive, narrowed a bit as he checks you out shamelessly. Dark hair gelled back perfectly. A jaw that is both elegant and dangerous. He stands out among the rest of the partiers, his features an exquisite blend of feminine and masculine. 

Your line of sight is cut off when Brad leans forward on the sticky countertop to order more drinks. You take a deep breath, trying to collect yourself. Your hands are a little shaky. Whoever that man is looks more your type, but the Ben-Brian-Brads of the world are much easier.

So you accept the new drink, sipping it and turning your back to the bar. And when you’re coaxed onto the dance floor, all disjointed limbs and sweating bodies, you forget about the Love Kills Slowly man and focus on the way you feel - dreamy and soft with the buzz of tequila in your veins. 

A song you vaguely recognize plays in the background. You sway your hips, ass pressed against Ben’s crotch with his hands gripped tightly on your sides. He sways you back and forth, less like a dance and more like an erratic pendulum that can’t find its rhythm. Ben’s dancing is less than impressive, and you start to think that your earlier thoughts about his skill in bed might be right. 

Tiffany laces your fingers with hers as she dances in front of you, pulling you away from Brian’s greedy hands to press your front against hers, letting you grind against her. You tilt your head back. Fog fills the air, lights dancing across the ceiling. It smells like the sticky-sweet of the machines used to make the fog, a tinge of sweat. 

Nicole interrupts your dancing. Your legs ache a little, pieces of hair stuck to the nape of your neck as she bounces up and down yelling, “You have got to see this guy.”

You and Tiffany laugh as Nicole pulls you, the press of bodies jostling you back and forth as you try to catch a rhythm to move through the crowd. When you break the barrier and come out on the other side, your brows shoot up at the scene in front of you. 

The Love Kills Slowly guy is posing next to a girl who points at his exposed six-pack and holy shit his body is insane. Perfectly cut abs, a solid v-line dipping into pants that fit his narrow waist. He holds the shirt up with a thumb, sticking out his tongue as the flash on the camera goes off. You can’t help but think his tongue is devilishly long. 

Up close, he’s even hotter than you thought. You stare at him as the girl who took the picture flirts with them. There is a gaggle of men and women surrounding him, a flock of geese looking upon the swan longingly.

“He is the hottest fucking person I’ve ever seen,” Tiffany giggles. “We should totes get a picture with this dude.”

“Why, is he famous?” You ask, watching as he nods and lets the girl touch his abs. God. What a tool. “He loves being the center of attention, it looks like.”

“So? He’s probably a model. I mean look at that. Come on.”

Tiffany yanks you and Nicole. You resist, stumbling over as she inserts herself into the conversation. He smiles at her, dazzling as he raises a brow at whatever she says. You pull your hand away from her and take a step back. You will not throw yourself at the Adonis in front of you. 

You pivot away from them, staring out over the open crowd. You don’t enjoy the way Tiffany and Nicole giggle, sweet as the simple syrup on the bar over this new stranger. They make it too easy, and you don’t enjoy the idea of melting for someone just because they’re hot. Even if they’re model hot.

And what kind of model wears Ed Hardy?

At first, Tiffany and Love Kills Slowly chat animatedly. That makes sense - she has a way with people and she’s an excellent flirt. When your name is called the first time, you think you imagine it so you stay bobbing your head to the Ke$ha song, minding your business. When it’s said a second time, you glance at them from the corner of your eye.

“You’re being rude,” Tiffany asserts, glaring at you. You feel your eye twitch as she touches an open nerve. You’re not rude - you’re bored and your drunk friend cannot tell the difference. “This is Jimin. I was right, he is a model.”

“That’s nice.”

Jimin’s eyes are on you and your stomach flips. You pick at the french manicure on your freshly done acrylics, thinking that the attention will pass you any moment now. But you feel Jimin’s eyes on you and you sense when he leans forward past Tiffany, ducking his head to level the most intense pair of brown eyes you’ve ever seen at you. 

“What?” He asked. “Don’t like models?”

“Not one that wears Ed Hardy,” you answer honestly. Your words come out a little stiff. You feel your arm tighten, squeezing your clutch that’s wedged in your armpit. “Shouldn’t you be in like… Armani or something?”

“You’re uptight.”

“Thanks.”

He frowns. “Loosen up.” He looks at your empty hands. “Come on, let’s get you a drink.”

“Why?” Jimin moves past Tiffany entirely, offering a hand and a smirk that almost makes your mouth pop open. Your heart does a tiny flip - you can’t help it. He is stupid beautiful. “I am drinking.”

“Your hands look a little empty to me.” He grabs one of your hands, linking your fingers and tugging. “Okay, one hand full. Let’s put some goose to make you loose in the other.” 

You’re speechless as he tugs you along. Tiffany squeals a little, she and Nicole both on your heels. 

People make room for Jimin at the bar. You watch the way people look at him. He drops your hand to dig a hand into the pocket of his skin-tight jeans for a credit card. His tongue darts out to lick his lips as he looks at you.

“What’s your drink, baby?” 

“I’m not your baby.”

The quip comes out before you can stop it. Tiffany smacks your arm and makes a noise behind you. You ignore her, staring at him pointedly. 

“Mmm she’s a brat. I like that. Your drink?” Jimin prompts again with a smile, undeterred. 

“Um. Anything with Tequila.”

“A girl after my own heart. You wanna do shots?”

“Yes!” Nicole and Tiffany both squeal. He smiles at them briefly, but his eyes drag back to you.

You stare. Jimin has a dark lash line, making his eyes more enchanting. He bites his bottom lip, letting his eyes drop down to your exposed midriff before dragging his eyes back up again, raising a brow in a question. 

He’s only buying shots if you want one. 

You shrug a shoulder, nonchalant. He grins and asks the bartender for chilled Patron shots with training wheels. With his back turned, you smirk, feeling a sliver of satisfaction as you look away from Jimin and spot the group of men you were with earlier looking in your direction, murmuring amongst themselves. 

Turning quickly before you can make eye contact with Ben-Brian-Brad, you find yourself face to face with Jimin once again. He leans on the bar with one elbow, head tilted as he studies you. His attention makes you feel warm and drunker than you already are. 

“You didn’t tell me your name,” he points out as the bartender sets four glasses of blanco tequila in front of you, rimmed with salt and garnished with a lime wedge. He picks up two glasses and hands them to Nicole and Tiffany’s hands as you give him your name. “Cute. You’re cute.”

“Thank you.” 

Jimin lifts his glass in your direction. “Salude.” 

You watch, mouth parted slightly as Jimin’s tongue curls out of his mouth, licking the rim of the shot glass slowly. His eyes don’t leave yours, even when he’s finished the rim and tosses the tequila back before biting into the lime. A tiny bit of lime juice runs down his chin, your eyes following the trail. His tongue darts out to snatch it. 

“Come on,” he purrs. “Your turn.”

Your mouth is dry. You quickly lick the salted rim, barely making it around before tossing the shot back and squeezing your eyes shut as it burns down the back of your throat. You bite into the lime wedge, the sour taste helping ease the burn. 

Juice runs down your chin. Before you can wipe it, Jimin’s hand darts out, a thumb brushing across your skin to catch it. He removes his hand, lips twitching upward slightly as he absently sucks the juice from his thumb and turns to the bartender to order two tequila sours. 

“Are you on vacation?” he asks and you nod your head, a little dizzy from the shot and from him. The group of men from earlier has shuffled back toward your group, Nicole and Tiffany reluctantly shifting attention from Jimin to the men they were talking to previously. “Same. I have no idea where my friends are, I think they left me.” He slides a drink toward you. “You won’t leave me, right?” 

“Depends.”

“On?”

“If you’re nice or not. I like nice guys.”

He sips his drink, leering at you over the rim of the glass. “I’m a nice guy. At least, for you.” He nods his head toward the group of guys. “You have a boyfriend?”

“Would you care if I did?”

He throws his head back to laugh, throat covered in a light sheen of sweat. He looks at you over the glass, the first genuine smile not filled with something lingering on lust that he gives you. “No, but you told me to be nice.” 

That makes you smile a bit. You bite your lip, trying to hide it, and decide to sip the drink. It’s good - strong - but good. “You seem like the type who wouldn’t care.”

“Awe don’t hurt my feelings. You’re like one of the hottest girls in here and I’m into it. If I had to ignore a ring or a boyfriend, I would. Is that so bad?” You shrug, sipping on the drink. You don’t know what to say. 

Thankfully, Jimin doesn’t really seem to care. You think perhaps he likes hearing himself talk. It works out. Jimin fills the conversation with the normal what do you do and what do you like? You don’t miss the way he leans in toward you, or the way he glances at your mouth. 

Still, you’re a little rigid. Your sentences aren’t as smooth and practiced as his. He doesn’t seem to care, shuffling a little close to you as the bar fills up with people. He smells like Axe Essence and the 5 gum he’s popped into his mouth between drinks. 

“Trying to quit coke,” he snickers when he sticks another piece of gum in his mouth. “Got some bad press for it during last fashion week and my agency keeps threatening to drop me even though it's obviously a pre-fucking-requisite to walk for McQueen.” 

“And chewing gum helps with that?”

“Not really, but it gives my mouth something to do and it soothes the muscle memory of hand to face.”

“Smart.”

“You look incredible by the way.” That makes you blush, pulling your bottom lip between your teeth and ducking your head. Jimin chuckles, tapping your chin lightly with a finger to make you look back up at him. “Cute.”

“Thanks.”

“You’re a bit of a spoiled brat, huh?” That makes you frown and pull away. He whines, hands chasing your shoulders to draw you closer to him. “Stop. I like that. It means you have high standards and good taste.” 

You hum, finishing the rest of your drink. You’re properly drunk now, the room tilting a little bit as a giggle escapes you when Jimin looks at you. He laughs back, sliding a glass of water over to you after he takes a few sips. 

The water is refreshing. Your skin feels warm all over and you move a little slower, looking around. The club is more packed than you remember and there are more bodies on the dance floor. You watch the way people move together, pressed up against one another and grinding to the music humming through the air. 

Jimin follows your gaze, leaning closer to you and popping his gum in your ear. “Wanna dance?” 

You nod, looking up at him through your lashes. He grins and pushes off the bar, sliding a hand around your waist to shift you in front of him. You look at him over your shoulder with narrowed eyes and he smiles, tucking you to his chest and sliding his chin on your shoulder. 

“Coming through,” he calls, walking you both through the group behind you. Ben-Brian-Brad glares at you and you avert your eyes as Jimin guides you toward the dance floor, pads of his fingers pressed firming into your hips and scouring marks into your skin. “Tool in the polo definitely has a small dick.”

You giggle as you peel apart, Jimin catching your hand as you turn to face him, pulling him with you. “What makes you say that?”

“His fucking collar is popped, baby.” 

“I think he’s mad at me,” you admit.

“You’re way out of his league.”

“That’s true.”

Jimin wraps his hands around your wrist and yanks you to him. You gasp, stumbling as your chests press together. He slots a thigh between your legs, making you freeze for a moment as the music slows a bit. Jimin’s hands are confident where they settle on your waist, moving your hips in a soft rhythm as he begins to move. 

Instincts take over. You wrap your arms around Jimin’s neck, letting him press his forehead against yours as he stares you down. He’s no longer controlling your hips but letting you move against him naturally, both of your bodies in sync. 

Jimin is an amazing dancer, never forcing you to sway too much or trying to control your movements awkwardly. He rolls his hips into you experimentally once and you gasp lightly, noses brushing together. 

“You’re fucking hot,” he mumbles, his breath fanning your face. 

“So are you.”

Your fingers slide through the dark, sweaty strands at the back of his neck. He lets out an appreciative noise, making your insides melt. Your eyes drop to his lips, slightly parted, slicked with gloss from his pink tongue darting out to wet them. You wonder how soft they must feel, and the way he used his tongue to lick the salt from the rim of the tequila glass makes you wonder what kissing him is like.

You don’t have to wonder long. Jimin notices you staring. Gives you a wolfish grin. You think he looks wicked in the low light, all sharp eyes with a cunning smile. 

And then he’s kissing you. 

You make a sound of surprise, but it’s swallowed in his warm, minty mouth. Your fingers tighten in his hair as he presses the small of your back so that you’re impossibly closer. 

It’s easy to forget you’re in the middle of the dance floor. Jimin’s mouth moves slowly against yours, sucking your bottom lip greedily as he pulls away for a split second. Before you can chase his lips with yours, he’s kissing you again, with a little more vigor and a curious tongue that swipes the seam of your lips.

You open your mouth to him and Jimin consumes you. You’re spinning, holding onto him for dear life as he sucks your tongue into his mouth. Fuck, you knew his tongue would be good. It makes you light-headed as he licks into your mouth, fingers clawing at you as a whine escapes his throat. 

Suddenly the kiss breaks. You blink up at him, stars in your eyes and cotton-fuzz thoughts, lost in him. Jimin isn’t looking at you though, he’s looking at the DJ and yelling, pointing over your head as he detaches from you. 

“This is my fucking song,” he yells at you, as though he hadn’t been tongue fucking your mouth a moment ago. You look at him, dazed and confused. He notices and pops a kiss on your mouth. “God, you're needy. Don’t pout, I’ll kiss you more after.” 

“What makes you think I want to kiss you more?”

He doesn’t say anything. Instead, he leans forward and kisses you once. Twice. It’s sweet and leaves your mind scattered as he guides you backward slightly before smacking your ass lightly. 

“Watch,” he instructs. “And try not to be a brat about it, yeah?”

“I’ll think about it.”

Jerk by New Boyz is on in the background. Jimin sweeps his arms, backing people away before he starts walking quickly in a circle, bobbing his head to the music and making room for his little show. 

A circle clears in the middle of the dance floor. You cross your arms with raised brows, Michael Kors clutch tucked in your armpit as you watch Jimin wave people back as the song plays. All eyes are on him, cheering as he nods and smirks at the crowd, turning to blow you a cheeky kiss.

You roll your eyes but smile anyways.

Jimin decides he has enough room and right as the chorus starts, he begins to hop and shuffle his feet backward then forward. The crowd goes wild, clapping their hands as he manages to execute the jerk without slipping on the beer and liquor-stained floor.

He spins and drops low, going down to the floor. The crowd yells for him, clapping and cheering him on as Jimin slowly works his way back up. His devious tongue is tucked against his plush upper lip, the hint of a smirk on his mouth.

More guys join the dancing, showing off their moves. Jimin, not one to be outshined, sticks his tongue out all the way, rolling his eyes back as he shakes his head and hooks a thumb in the hem of his shirt, pulling it up to reveal a flawless set of abs, shining in the glittering lights.

The women go crazy as he laughs manically, gesturing to his impressive physique to the other dancers, who roll their eyes and back off. You’re jostled from side-to-side, rolling your eyes when Jimin drops his shirt and dances his way over to you, eyes looking you up and down.

You give him an unimpressed look, yawning and looking the other way as he grips your hips, fingers digging into your flesh through the jeans. “Come on,” he purrs. “Spoiled brat not impressed?”

You are. You just don’t want to be.

“Nope,” you say.

He crowds your space as the circle closes and the song changes. Jimin presses his hips against yours and your stomach drops. Your eyes snap back to his as his hands brush backward, squeezing the sides of your ass.

Jimin’s hot breath touches your lips. He smells like tequila and his cologne. He’s sweating through the Ed Hardy shirt, making it cling to the firm body underneath. Your toes curly slightly as you bite your bottom lip, looking up at him through your lashes.

“If that’s how good I dance,” Jimin murmurs, so close that his nose is touching yours. “Imagine how good I lay pipe.”

You cringe at the way he phrases it, but you’re intrigued. Your friends taunting you for your lack of sexual experience earlier replays in your mind. So you play along, raising a brow. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” You wrap your arms around him when someone knocks into you. He noses the line of your jaw, breath warm in your ear when he whispers. “So like… you DTF or what?”

“What?”

“You know, down to fuck. I’ve been wanting to fuck the shit out of you since I saw you staring at me across the bar.”

“I was not staring.”

“Shit, I would stare if I were you too, baby.” 

You smack his shoulder, pulling away from him slightly. Your heart pounds in your rib cage as you stare at him. His eyes are expectant, waiting for your response. 

Before your ex, you would have never thought to sleep with someone you just met at a bar. You know very little about Jimin besides the fact that he likes to hear himself talk, that he’s a little arrogant and that he is wildly, ridiculously hot. 

Jimin nibbles on his bottom lip, squeezing your hips to tell you he’s still waiting on an answer. The way your stomach flips and you already feel arousal at the cocky way he asserts himself tells you what you want to say. 

“I think so…”

“You think so or you know so?” Your mouth is dry and you don’t know what to say, so you shrug. He seems to read you. “You never went home with a guy at a bar before?”

“No.”

“Come on,” he whines, sliding his hands in your back pockets. “I’ll be really sweet.”

“Yeah?”

He leans down, nudging his nose with yours. You laugh, leaning back a bit but Jimin is persistent, chasing the intimate contact. “Yeah. I’ll even make sure you cum first.”

“We’ll see.” His hands squeeze your ass through your pockets. “My place or-“

“Yours. My friends are stupid fucks.”

Sliding your hand in his, you pull Jimin along. He presses himself close to your back when you walk, sticking the hand not holding yours in your pocket to give your ass an experimental poke. You hiss at him but end up giggling when he wags his eyebrows up and down.

You find Tiffany and Nicole dancing with the original group of guys. Ben-Brian-Brad is glaring at you openly now, and Jimin is pressed behind you so close that you can feel the cool metal of his zipper on your lower back. 

Tiffany and Nicole assure you they’re going to another club and will go to the beach house that the guy group is staying at. With gloss-stain cheek kisses and goodbyes, you leave them dancing as Jimin wraps a hand around your waist, gluing you together as you stumble out into the night.

The strip of bars is full of people. Cool air kisses your skin, making you moan in relief a bit as you begin walking toward your hotel. Your steps are uneven, you and Jimin pushing one another back and forth as you try to navigate your way home. You stumble a little too far when he presses a kiss to your neck, leaning on you too much for your drunk weight to bear and sending you several steps. 

“Owww,” you whine. “That hurt my ankle. I’m in heels and my feet hurt, Jimin.” You drop his hand and look up at him, sticking out your bottom lip in an animated pout. “Give me a piggyback ride.” 

“Hmmm. What do I get in return?”

“What do you mean?”

“If you ride my back, I need to… ride you.”

You roll your eyes. “I already told you I’ll have sex with you, idiot.”

“Yeah but I could really use a good blow job.”

You scrunch your nose. “Fine.” 

Jimin grins, letting go of you to squat and look over his shoulder at you, eyes glittering. “All aboard the Park express. Next stop: pound town.”

Huffing, you place either hand on Jimin’s shoulders and jump a little. He catches you easily, hands gripping your thighs firmly. You shiver at the feeling of his hands. Jimin straightens and you wrap your arms around his neck, settling your chin over his right shoulder.

“You’re kind of a jerk-off, huh?”

He grins as he starts to walk. “A little. But you’re kind of a bitch, so I think it works.”

You hum - he has a point.

The piggyback ride is just as dangerous as the walk. Jimin walks crooked sometimes, only for you to yell and smack his shoulder to send him back in a straight line. He gets distracted by a pizza stand which makes you flick his ear. And when you’re finally in front of the automatic double doors to your hotel, he is gasping for air and immediately sags against the elevator wall.

“You’re fuckin’ heavy.”

“That is so rude.”

“Baby, I am wasted and I haven’t done coke in like a week. It’s not you - it’s me.”

“What a cheesy line.” 

“Speaking of.” His hand feels around his back pocket before dipping into the fabric and removing a tiny Altoid tin. “My sobriety will not come at the expense of me cumming early. I’m going to need a little extra to fuck you right.” 

“Thought you were quitting?”

“I mean, do you want me to get my dick up?” The elevator opens and you try to hide your laugh behind your hand. “And now you’re laughing at me? Baby you’re going to hurt my feelings.”

“Sorry, it was just funny. Do whatever you want. You promised to make me cum first.”

“Never had a guy who did that?”

“Nope.”

Jimin makes a disgusted noise as you swipe the hotel key card in the reader. It flashes green and you swing the door open into the freezing room. It’s a little disheveled, but it’s at least not an embarrassing display of the room. You’re suddenly thrilled that it’s a suite with two rooms. 

The door clicks behind you and Jimin slides closer to you, pulling you by the belt loops. You’re prepared for his kiss this time, opening your mouth the second his soft lips meet yours. It’s sloppy and wet, Jimin sucking your bottom lip hungrily as he pulls your belt loops a little harder.

Carefully, Jimin walks you backward. He taps the side of your thighs and dips down as you jump. He catches your legs, hauling you the rest of the way onto the island counter where you spread your legs for him. 

Jimin slots himself between your thighs easily. At this height, you’re more on his level, but Jimin leans into you, pushing you back slightly as he controls the kiss. It’s more eager and demanding than the one in the club, Jimin sucking on your tongue and licking the rough of your mouth experimentally. 

Planting his hands on either side of your ass on the counter, Jimin trails kisses along your jaw. Your eyes flutter shut at the feeling, and you become breathy. His mouth is noisy and wet against your skin, sucking at the tender flesh under your ear gently before biting lightly. The pinch of skin makes you moan, the sound lost in the lighting above the counter.

“So fucking pretty,” Jimin murmurs, continuing his assault with his mouth. His tongue is just as dangerous, licking over each bite he places as he drifts to your collarbone. “You want a line?”

You shake your head no. He presses closed-mouth kisses back up your neck until he’s straightened out to be eye-level. He brushes your nose with his. Sticks his tongue out and watches you expectantly. You tentatively stick yours out too, making a squeal when his tongue licks at yours.

“Weirdo,” you murmur, cheeks heated and shivering when he pulls away from you to pop open the Altoid tin. There’s a tiny plastic bag inside, sealing the white powder. “You like using tongue.”

Jimin hums in agreement as he stays between your legs, untwisting the bag. “I have a good tongue,” he says as he leans over, dumping a little onto the counter. You watch wordlessly. “I like to eat pussy too.” 

You nearly lay back on the counter and ascend to heaven right there. No one has been so open and bold with you when speaking about sexual acts. And the fact that he says it so casually as he looks around for something flat with an edge makes you dizzy. You produce the room key and he grins, kissing your nose once before he takes it and cuts the powder into two, thin white lines. 

“Do you need a bill too?” you joke. He shakes his head and pulls out a dollar bill that looks like it was once crisp but has been rolled over and over and over, making it look soft and pliant. “You don’t use hundreds?” 

“I’m a model,” he grunts. “Not a Kardashian.” 

That makes you laugh. 

Jimin’s fingers are practiced as he rolls the bill. You can’t help but stare at the rings that you did not notice before, each one placed on a delicate finger. He has nice hands, veins jumping as he places one hand on the counter to hold himself up as the other holds the rolled bill. 

Your knees squeeze his sides a bit as Jimin does the first line. It’s loud in the apartment with just the sound of his sharp inhaling, so you lean a bit to hit the iPod on the iHome dock, flicking through the touchscreen to find a song you like. 

You settle on a playlist Tiffany has loaded in called Party Jamz. She Wolf starts playing loudly, drowning out the sound of Jimin finishing his second line as you hit the volume button a few times to lower it. 

Straightening, you come face to face with Jimin as he wipes his nose a bit, taking a few sharp inhales. He runs his tongue along the edge of the room key before swiping his finger through the residue on the counter. There’s not much coke on the pad of his thumb, but he holds it to your mouth, watching.

Obediently, you open your mouth. He slides his thumb under your upper lip, rubbing gently on your gums. You taste how bitter the drug is, making a bit of a face that makes him giggle as he removes his finger from your mouth, sucking the thumb into his mouth briefly. 

“You want a glass of water?” 

You nod and he vanishes from in between your legs. He sings to himself as he grabs glasses and goes to the fridge, the ice machine loud above the music. You watch him with heavy eyes, your body feeling a little like liquid from all the tequila. 

He reappears, holding a glass of water to your lips. He tilts it carefully as he drinks his own, dark eyes watching you. You sip carefully, the water cool and refreshing as he continues to tip the glass. A bead of water runs down your chin and neck. 

Jimin is fast. He sets down both cups of water and surges forward, tongue chasing the bead of liquid as it runs down your throat. You lean backward, keeping yourself up with your palms planted on the cool counter as Jimin kisses and bites your neck. A moan escapes your mouth and absently, you’re glad you chose Jimin to go home with you.

You grab Jimin by his face, pulling kiss-bitten lips to yours and devouring him whole. He grunts in appreciation, mouth cooled by the water as his tongue dances with yours. His handles are not idle, rubbing up and down your jean-clad thighs, alternating between the gentle press of fingers and pointed drag of nails. 

Jimin’s kissing is like nothing else you’ve had before. He’s skilled, leading you between fast, hungry clashing of teeth and tongue and slow, languid movements. You’re dizzy with him, a buzz of electricity under your skin and heat pooling in your stomach long before his hands dip to your zipper, pulling the metal down. 

Eager hands slide to your hips where Jimin gathers the fabric. Your kiss breaks momentarily, a single line of spit connecting you for a second before you lift your ass off the counter, letting Jimin pull harshly at your pants. The fabric slides, making him cuss out loud when he realizes you’re not wearing underwear. 

“Fuck,” he murmurs, tossing your jeans and pressing your thighs open. You shiver as the cold air hits your pussy. Jimin’s eyes are hungry as he drags a thumb up the center of your glossy folds, a high-pitched sound leaving you. “Spoiled brat wearing no underwear? You’re just dying to have this pussy fucked, huh?”

“Please.”

“Hmm.” Jimin presses his thumb into your clit. Your eyes roll back in your head. The pressure sends a shiver through you, sparking every nerve in your body as he barely wiggles his thumb back and forth. “Shit you’re so sensitive. Gonna scream while I eat you out?”

“Maybe.”

His thumb slides lower, teasing your clenching hole. You open your eyes, head heavy as you look at him. He’s slid down to his knees, looking up at you through long lashes with a smirk on his face. Your shirt is still on, but you don’t even care. Jimin’s hot breath is on your inner thighs as he bites your flesh softly, making your legs try to close.

“Don’t suffocate me,” he chastises you. “Wanna fuckin’ taste though.”

Everything turns to white noise as Jimin leans forward, running his long tongue from your dripping hole to your throbbing clit. You seize forward, gasping for air and clenching your fists as he pins your legs harder. Your muscles strain, the stretch a little painful but the good kind paired with the way he licks you slowly. 

Your blood turns into melted metal. You go boneless, laying back on the counter, knocking over cups, sending them scattering. You knock into the iHome, the iPod coming disconnected and cutting off the music. It doesn’t matter. Now you can hear the way Jimin sucks at your clit, making you moan loudly. 

From the moment you saw his tongue, you wondered what it would be like. You pictured nothing like this. Jimin eats you out slowly, tongue curious yet lazy as he circles your clit in a steady rhythm before sucking your bud into his mouth and squeezing with his lips lightly.

“Fuck, Jimin,” you whisper, voice hoarse from disuse. One of your hands falls across your eyes, blocking the light from the ceiling as Jimin splays you open for his mouth to explore. You’re panting, the other hand threading through his hair, gel making it easier to grab onto. “Feels so fucking good.”

And it does. 

“Tastes so sweet,” he mumbles, pulling away with a lewd, loud suck on your clit. “Your pretty little hole is just fucking dripping. Gonna fuck you open with my fingers to get you nice and stretched for me.”

You can’t come up with a verbal response. Something like a whine and hum of agreement slips out. Your hips twitch as his mouth turns firmer, tongue flicking over your clit quickly followed by his lips sucking at your wet hole.

There has never been a time someone enjoyed themselves so much while paying attention to your pleasure. Jimin is skilled and focused on bringing his fingers into the action. You feel him slowly trace the rim of your entrance with his fingers, applying just enough pressure to make you curse and squirm but not enough to slide in. 

It fucking aches. Your fingers tighten in his hair, begging him to make you feel fuller. Jimin chuckles, the vibrations going straight through you, your muscles spasming. 

Slowly, Jimin adds a single finger, the slide relieving some of the tension directly in your pussy. You let out a soft breath, sagging on the counter as he matches the gentle in-and-out of his finger with the steady licking of his tongue on your clit. 

The tight feeling of your orgasm is winding like a spring in your stomach. You can feel it, the pressure building and so compact that you struggle to breathe, finding yourself gasping for air when Jimin adds another finger to the mix. He applies pressure right against your front wall, pressing that spot that has you seeing stars.

You might be babbling now. You don’t know what comes out of your mouth. Stars are dancing behind your eyes and you struggle to remember not to hold your breath, to try and regulate your breathing as he increases speed. He’s messy now, sucking and licking and rubbing his nose against your clit. Jimin uses his entire face to get you off and you’re spiraling. 

It all happens at once. A deep breath in. Held tight in your chest, muscles seizing and your body going rigid. Jimin’s fingers push against your g-spot hard as he sucks your clit into his mouth and you scream.

Your orgasm snaps in half, everything going loose at once. You feel yourself clench around his fingers, so tight that Jimin pauses his movements, tongue licking at your sensitive pussy gently as you shake. Your hands cover your face now, breathing rapidly into your palms as the room fills with white noise. 

After a moment, your muscles start to relax. Jimin gives an experimental thrust with his fingers and you whine, making him laugh. 

“God, you came so fucking hard,” he growls from between your legs. He gently pulls his fingers from you, making you protest and drop your hands from your face. You open your eyes as the room spins, lifting your head to look where Jimin now stands between your legs. He sucks his fingers into his mouth, smirking around them. “Mmm. You’re a creamer. I like that.” 

You have no response for him. He doesn’t need one. Jimin lifts you from the counter and for a moment, the world tilts dangerously on its axis and you think you might vomit. The spinning is short-lived as he carries you to the bedroom, tossing you on the bed hard enough to make you bounce. 

“Jesus Christ, Jimin,” you mumble, righting yourself in the sheets. He laughs, pulling his shirt over his head and tossing it. Your eyes zero in on his body and your mind goes blank. “Jesus Christ, Jimin.”

“Jesus had nothing to do with this.” He smacks his abs with a hand. “This is creatine, determination, and seven days a week at the gym, baby.”

Jimin flexes his stomach. His chest and abs are toned and well-defined. The low lighting of the bar had done him an injustice that is rectified in the lamp light of the bedroom. There’s a black tattoo on his ribcage that you can’t read, but think looks really good on him anyway. 

Jeans slung low on his hips, Jimin shuffles over to the bed. You can see his dick straining against his pants. When he leans over to catch your lips with his, your hand immediately goes to his crotch, gripping gently through the material. He moans into your mouth, the kiss full of spit and your essence. 

From the way your hand presses against his straining cock, you can tell Jimin is big. With nervous hands, you pull at his zipper. He pulls away for a moment, leaving you frowning and confused.

“How do you get this fucking shirt off,” he mumbles, sliding a finger under the strap going across your stomach. “It’s confusing.”

“Like a normal shirt,” you giggle. 

“Like a normal shirt,” he mimes in a high-pitched voice. “Off. Wanna see those fucking tits.” 

Leaning forward, you help Jimin pull your shirt off, followed by the pink bra with a little bow in the middle. He doesn’t seem to have an appreciation for lingerie, immediately pushing you down by your sternum once you’re fully naked so he can lavish your chest with his mouth. 

Jimin’s mouth is always hungry. He sucks a nipple into his mouth, making you gasp and forget that you had been trying to get his pants off. You go limp as his tongue flicks over your pert bud experimentally, his other hand tweaking the opposite peak. Both bring out a response, eliciting a grin from him.

Remembering that Jimin is still in jeans, your hands surge forward, pulling at the zipper. You can see Calvin Klein briefs peaking just out the top of his jeans. With the zipper undone, there’s enough room for you to slide your hand in and grip Jimin’s cock firmly over the fabric of his briefs. 

“Shit,” he moans, head resting in the valley of your breasts. “Come on, take my cock out. Wanna stuff that mouth of yours full.” 

You don’t hesitate. You help Jimin out of his jeans, momentarily distracted by his powerful thighs and the way they flex as he bends to pull his briefs down. Your mouth goes dry as his heavy cock bobs against his navel when he’s free of his briefs. 

Jimin might be a lithe model, but his cock is anything but. 

Smooth, heavy, flushed-brown tip, and thick. Your hand goes for it as he crawls up the bed, straddling your waist and looking down at you through half-lidded eyes. Your hand wraps around the velvet shaft, making him twitch a bit. He sucks his lower lip into his mouth, watching you give an experimental stroke. 

Jimin moans. It’s such a pretty sound. You shift under him to give yourself a better angle. Your hand drifts upward, collecting the pearly precum gathered at his tip. You spread it on his shaft on the downstroke, watching as Jimin’s eyes close, head falling back. 

You gather spit in your mouth, letting go of his cock briefly. He looks down as if to chastise you, but before his comment can escape, you spit into your palm and bring it back up to his cock, giving a smooth stroke, grip firmer and more precise as you twist at the head.

“God,” he moans as you watch his muscles spasm in his abs. “Don’t just jerk me off like a middle schooler, put me in your mouth.”

“Fuck you.”

“I’m trying. Just suck me off a bit first.”

You huff at his impatience. 

Sliding further down the bed, Jimin meets you halfway, lowering a bit so that you can pull the tip of his cock into your mouth for an experimental suck. He curses and you grin, the saltiness on your tongue spurring you to take him in a little further.

It’s a vulnerable angle. Jimin can control the pace and fuck down into your mouth if he wants. Instead, he’s patient as you let the spit collect in your mouth, lifting your head to take a little more in your mouth each time.

Your tongue runs along the bottom of his shaft, providing a smooth glide as Jimin helps you out, sinking into your mouth a little more each time. He’s cursing and moaning above you, lost in the way you hollow your cheeks to provide better suction. You’re fascinated by the way his long lashes cast shadows on his cheeks, and you realize he has a few freckles that are… endearing. 

It’s a weird thing to notice, so you suck harder, trying to focus on the task at hand. 

Jimin grows more needy, fucking into your mouth so that he’s controlling the pace. You adjust, letting your jaw go slack to accommodate the stretch - and it’s a difficult stretch - making sure to guard your teeth and to let your drool help the glide.

“Your mouth takes my cock so well,” he hums. “How about that throat? Can I fuck that too?”

You nod, which is difficult with a mouth full of Jimin’s precum and cock. He grits his teeth, grabbing the bottom of your jaw gently to adjust the angle and start fucking into your mouth in earnest. 

Breathing is difficult - you remind yourself to try and breathe through your nose, letting out little sounds of euphoria around him that rile him up. You can feel your essence dripping down your thighs, turned on by the way Jimin growls every time the tip kisses the back of your throat. 

Once or twice your throat seizes up around him. He’s careful to pull out and let you breathe for a moment, spit and a little cum leaking down the sides of your mouth and down your chin, tears pooling in your eyes.

With one hand, Jimin slides the glossy tip of his cock through the mess on your chin before tracing your lips a few times, smearing the mess over your swollen mouth. 

“Lipstick,” he murmurs, nearly ruining the moment.

Before you can reply, Jimin slides his cock back into the heat of your mouth, sighing in relief as he starts to thrust in earnest again.

Just as the crown of his cock starts to brush the deeper part of your throat, Jimin pulls out, cursing. “Need to fuck this messy pussy of yours or I’ll bust,” he growls. “Turn over for me. Let me see that pretty ass.” 

Crawling from underneath him, you do as he says, too eager to care that he’s bossing you around. Your limbs are trembling as you prop yourself up on your knees, ass in the air and chest and head pressed to the bed. You look at him sideways, cheek on the mattress as he settles behind you, hands kneading the fat of your ass, giving you experimental squeezes.

It feels nice, the way his hands soothe your muscles and skate over soft flesh. He gives you an experimental slap and you squeal, making him grin. 

“Gunna rearrange your fucking guts,” he murmurs, grabbing the base of his cock. 

“Wait - condom?”

He gives you a look. “What? Are we in middle school? I’m not fucking you with a condom, I won’t feel shit.”

“What? How do I know if you’re clean?” 

“Um, does it look like I have something?”

“You can’t always tell.”

“Well, I don’t have a condom.”

You pause, glaring at him. Neither one of you moves. “Okay, well then pull out.”

He scoffs. “Obviously I’m going to cum in your mouth like a gentleman.” 

You roll your eyes. Even though he is wildly attractive and can pull an orgasm out of you with oral, Jimin is still a fucking ass. But he’s an ass who is good at what he does, so you shut up. 

Not that you can speak as he runs his cockhead through your wet folds. You moan, hearing how wet you are for him. He pushes the tip of his cock in slightly, just enough to make your hole flutter around him. You gasp, fists twisting in sheets as he sits there, letting you clench and unclench around him.

“Jimin,” you moan. 

“Ask nicely,” he teases. “Or you’re just gonna get the tip of my cock. I can feel your pussy fucking begging for it. Now you need to ask.”

“Please.”

“Please what?”

“Please fuck me.”

“Yeah? Want me to split you open?”

“Yes.”

“Want me to fuck that cervix until you’re screaming?” You pause. He pauses. “Okay that wasn’t very hot, was it?”

“Not really-”

Jimin cuts you off, thrusting in hard on a single upstroke. You gasp, mind going blank and forgetting about his terrible fumble at dirty talk as his cock does hit something inside of you that sends you into a torrent of heat and trembling limbs.

He sets a fast pace, not letting you adjust to his girth. Jimin’s hips piston perfectly against yours, your ass snapping back into his hips with each thrust. You can barely breathe, panting into the sheets as you bounce backward, sharing the effort to meet him for each powerful stroke.

It feels amazing.

You close your eyes, getting lost in the way his cock fills up every part of you, the slide smooth and velvet against your walls, the tip brushing gently against your g-spot every time he thrusts in. 

Your stomach feels like it's flipping over and over again, each one of Jimin’s thrusts so deep you swear you feel it in your chest. Your thoughts start to slip away, your front half sinking further into the mattress as Jimin’s fingers dig into the meat of your ass.

“Fuck,” he pants. “This pussy is so fucking tight. You're just fucking taking it and this ass-” he slaps your flesh sharply, making you squeal. “You hear that? Fucking getting clapped.” 

You don’t have it in you to be annoyed at him. And he has a point - the slap of hips against ass, balls against pussy is loud. 

The same feeling coils in your stomach again. You squeeze your eyes shut, barely able to breathe around the pleasure and the feeling of Jimin fucking you so full. It winds and winds and winds, and as it’s about to snap, you hold your breath.

Jimin gives a hard thrust followed by another, and you cum with a scream. You go from frozen, clenched muscles to boneless limbs in a moment. Jimin presses his hands into the small of your back, pushing you so far into the mattress that you can barely breathe as you bear his full weight.

With a few disjointed thrusts, Jimin cums, grunting and digging nails into your back.

For a few moments, neither of you moves. You can barely remember where you are, much less ask Jimin to pull his weight off of you to give you air. He’s still pressed into you, the heavy weight of him sinking you further into sweat-soaked sheets.

Jimin relents. He slowly pulls his cock out of you and you feel the mess slicking between your legs. It’s sticky and wet, more than you have ever felt before. He falls unceremoniously to the side, nearly wheezing for air.

The room is filled with heavy breaths and the smell of sweat and sex. Strands of hair and sheets stick to your skin. You shuffle, trying to roll over a bit to look at him. Your limbs are sore and stretched from the press of his hands and the force of his hips spreading yours, but it’s a good sore. 

Jimin is flushed, sweaty, and half-asleep. His hand is on his stomach, sticky with cum. 

“OH MY GOD YOU DIDN’T PULL OUT!” You scream, sitting up with sheets stuck to your back and hair all over. “YOU ASSHOLE!”

“Please stop screaming,” he groans, covering his face. “I’ll buy you Plan B in the morning.”

“You’re the fucking worst!”

“Well,” he sighs. “Give me ten minutes and I’ll fuck you again to make you feel better.” 

You cross your arms over your chest, heart racing. You stare at Jimin for a moment. Two moments. You drop your arms and lay back on the bed. “Yeah,” you huff. “Fine, whatever.”

Who were you to turn down another round like that? Your ex and his Escalade are long forgotten now.

---

Bound By Blood (m)

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

k.taehyung x f.reader

❦︎ ݁ ˖┊: wc: 16.0k

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

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

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

18+ -> minors / blank blogs dni

The Kim Empire. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Prince Kim has never been known for being kind. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He desires an answer.

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

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

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

You think you dislike the feeling. 

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

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

“I suppose so.” 

He frowns. Try again.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Purity.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You simply shake your own. 

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

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

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

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

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

You had not been optimistic since then.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Ah. It all makes sense now. 

“Oh.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You nod your head while Annabell smiles in agreement. 

“Good.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Rounding the corner, you discover exactly why. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes. Thank you.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You pause, air drifting back into your lungs.

Ah. Right. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

If he does, he doesn’t show it. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Why did he know your name? 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You only wish it was that easy.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You do not like to think of them.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“And what am I meant to do?” 

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

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

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

“I understand. It will be dealt with.”

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

At least that is what you hope. 

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

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

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

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

What a strange feeling it is.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You pause.

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

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

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

“But if someone were to see them–” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Good lamb.”

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

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

That is the only logical solution, at least. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The future king would be a fearsome thing. 

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

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

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

“I– Prince Kim…” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

His nostrils flare, “Excuse me?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Oh heavens, oh gods. 

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

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

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

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

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

The silence that follows your confession feels a mile long. 

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

“What…?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Only words you can manage at the revelation.

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

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

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

“Taehyung.” 

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

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

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

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

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

“You’ll let me do that, won’t you?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

O-Oh. Oh. He sees you as, oh god. 

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

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

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

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

You feel like mush, so pliable in his grip.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He will not have you running away. 

Not now. 

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

He is. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Please.” 

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

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

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

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

Not yet.

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

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

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

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

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

So sensitive. So ready for him. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Behind his bangs is only the look of pure insanity. 

Though he tries to be compassionate, he really does.

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

But he holds restraint. Just enough.

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

He is falling apart before you, because of you. 

He has gone mad because of you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

That is close enough to the truth, anyway.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Who are you going to marry?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Taehyung!” He smiles into your neck. 

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

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

“Who do you belong to?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Goodnight my lamb.”

The Kim Empire. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He thanks god every day he was really your first kiss, even if you didn’t know it. 

Patiences was the hardest battle of all, and he will admit, he has faltered a few times over the years. Kisses stolen while you sleep, a few of your belongings robbed to keep him satiated. Mayhaps a few trips to your room in the night. 

But who could blame him? He was a man in love. There was nothing that could stop him when he was so hungry for you. 

Ah, and then of course his father. He wanted to separate your love as well. A maid could never possibly be suited to be queen, blah blah. He doesn’t care. And at least that fight allowed him to hug you for the first time. 

God. You felt so perfect in his arms, then and now. You have always been meant for this. Meant for him.

If his father plans to keep standing in the way, he will simply have to remove him from the equation. His bonds to the man are as thick as water. He cares more for you than he possibly could anyone else.

You’ve belonged to him since you were born, anyway. If a maid becomes pregnant while working for the castle, her child becomes property of the state. Of the crown. Of him. 

It only makes sense that you are meant to be with him until death. It is the path lined for you. Your fate since birth. 

He knows it as his delicate fingers trace over the small patches of blood dirtying the sheets. Evidence of the hours before, of your virginity robbed. Of your promises to him.

You are bound to him by blood after all.

© all rights reserved to ctrlhope 2019-2024 ; do not copy, plagiarise, or translate.

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Also… been thinking a lot about ant hybrid!jk that counts his steps when he goes on walks so he doesn’t get lost (he always miscounts and does anyway.) collects little trinkets to bring back and give to you. annoys people picnicking whenever you two go to the park. considers you “queen” of the colony. has overly sensitive antennae that he pulls at whenever he gets stressed. yeah

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