So What? | Maknae Line

So what? | Maknae line

When you see the way your bully’s boyfriend looks at you, the perfect plan of getting revenge on your tormentor comes to mind… Having sex with their hot boyfriend.. they’d never see it coming!

Contains: reader stealing her bully’s bf, reader is lowkey crazy cause she’s having sex with them to take revenge on the bullying lol, cheating, kinda tame sex wise, hotel sex Tae, car sex Jungkook, bedroom sex Jimin, sex from behind, riding, missionary

Admin note: Only smut, use your imagination on how the bully would respond after finding out and any other plot details 🤭

Taehyung

Oh, he was good.

So fucking good.

You were at loss for words as you bounced back against his cock, your ass clapping against his thighs, his cock sliding in and out of you at a fast, steady pace, the bed creaking slightly as he thrusted into you.

The TV was blaring in the background, you had no idea what was on, too lost in pleasure as Taehyung was hitting his cock into the right spots, and it was taking every last bit of willpower in you to keep from screaming his name.

“Feels good, don’t it?” Taehyung chuckled at the sight of you desperately fucking his cock for more. You barely managed to whisper out a ‘yes’ before it was drowned into a series of high pitched moans.

His fingers dug into your waist as he brought your hips back harder against his own, and the way he was thrusting into you had you feeling like the air was being punched out of your lungs.

“Yes, yes…” You cried, nails digging into the sheets below you, as you let out a low whine, your hips bucking back against his.

There was an odd sense of satisfaction knowing you were stealing his girlfriend's man away, especially when that woman had made it her goal to make your life a living hell.

But that bitch didn’t even deserve him, and it was clear that he didn't want her. The way his hands moved to grab your tits, squeezing them in his hands, before they moved lower to rub circles around your clit, the way his hips slammed up into you, the grunts that escaped from his mouth, and how he was desperate to stretch you out with every inch of him, made it clear that he enjoyed the way you felt against him.

Taehyung’s hand snaked towards your throat, his fingers wrapping around your throat, as his pace picked up. Taehyung pulled your upperbody against his chest, your back pushed against his bare chest, and a strangled moan escaped your lips, the sensation starting to make you feel light headed.

“I’m close…” Your legs quivered as the tip of his cock repeatedly pressed against your sweet spot. Shit, how was he so great at making you feel this good?

“Yeah? You just can't get enough of this cock, huh? So fucking needy...” His voice was raspy, low, as his fingers tightened around your neck.

He was so damn good, and you felt yourself nearing your climax, with him still pounding into you from behind, the bed shaking with the force of his thrusts, and you came, moaning loudly, your orgasm making your body shake, and the sound of your cries were drowned out by the movie that was playing on the TV.

Your hips stuttered, and your vision became hazy as he continued to pound into you, fucking you through your orgasm, and you whimpered at the sensory overload.

Taehyung released his hold around your neck, his fingers loosening, and you dropped your body forward, taking shaky breaths as you laid still for him.

Taehyung let out a string of curses, as he buried himself deep inside you, his cock pulsing as his own orgasm hit him.

Jungkook

This was so dirty.

Jungkook didn’t want to waste a second longer, and neither did you.

Your skirt was pulled up and your finger hooked into your panties, pulling it to the side, as his cock slid past your wet folds, and your mouth parted as he slid into you with ease, your juices coating his length.

You could see the people walking past the window, but none of them paid any attention to you, and that was what made it even hotter.

Jungkook’s tongue hung over his bottom lip as his eyes fell shut, relishing the way your walls clung around his cock. Your bully’s boyfriend leaned forward and pressed his forehead against yours, his lips hovering over yours. You let out a sigh of content as he began to rock his hips back and forth, and a moan escaped your lips when he picked up the pace, fucking you at a slow pace.

With your arms wrapped around his shoulders, you thought about that bitch, enjoying the fact that you were fucking her boyfriend in public. It was so fucking dirty, but you were so turned on by the risk, and the fact that she couldn’t do anything to stop you, only made the sex that much better.

“Jungkook…” You whispered. “Kiss me.” You asked of him as your fingers brushed through his hair, and his eyes were glossy, filled with lust, as he closed the distance between the two of you, his lips pressing against yours, his kiss needy, hungry, and your tongues danced together as he continued to pump his cock in and out of you.

You tried to spread your legs as far as you could, but your right leg was blocked by the seat. There wasn’t much room, but you were fully able to spread your left leg, allowing him more access to push his cock in deeper.

You broke the kiss, your brows furrowing together, your mouth open, your breathing growing heavy.

Jungkook smirked at the sight of you coming undone, the way your body was so eager to take in his cock, he couldn’t get enough of you. Jungkook’s hands traveled to yours, your fingers intertwined as he slowed down his pace, stroking the length of his shaft in you slowly, making sure you felt every inch.

"Love that?” Jungkook whispered, his lips brushing against your ear. You nodded, the knot in your stomach tightening, your body started to feel warm, as your pussy clenched around his cock, and you were getting close, and judging by the way his thrusts were starting to grow sloppy, you could tell he was nearing his climax as well.

You couldn’t believe how fucking hot this was, and you knew this wouldn't be the last time you did this. You couldn’t stop, it felt so good.

Then, out of nowhere, your body shuddered, your pussy clenched, and your walls tightened around his cock.

Your eyes fluttered shut, and you let out a moan as the waves of pleasure coursed through your body, your orgasm hitting you.

And he wasn’t far behind.

His fingers tightened around yours, as he pumped his cock into you, his other hand holding onto the side of your face, his thumb running over your cheek, before his lips crashed into yours, and he came, filling you up.

Jimin

You were getting fucked in their bed.

The bed your bully shared with her boyfriend, and there was something oddly satisfying about the whole situation.

“Tired, baby?” Jimin cooed, his fingers rubbing circles onto your thighs. He was lying on his back, and you were sitting on top of him, your pussy swallowing his cock whole, and the room was filled with the sounds of your whines and the slap of skin on skin.

“Mm, yeah…” You admitted, rolling your hips. “Starting to.” Your voice was low and soft, the exhaustion starting to settle in. Your body was starting to feel tired from the relentless bouncing on his cock. His cock was filling you up so nicely, and you couldn’t get enough.

Jimin pulled himself up, and you giggled as he moved you along with him as he moved back onto the bed, resting his back against the wall.

His hands wrapped around your waist, as he started to bounce you up and down his cock, his cock sliding in and out of you, and the way he was pounding into you had your entire body moving up and down.

“Oh! Oh!” The intense pounding caught you by surprise— you didn’t even have to do anything as he bounced you up and down on his cock, and all you could do was moan and whimper, it was as if you turned into a limp ragdoll, unable to move as the pleasure overtook all of your senses.

Jimin chuckled, his eyes filled with amusement, the way your body was so responsive to his cock, the way you were letting out little whines and gasps, and the way your hands clung to his shoulders, told him that you were loving this just as much as he was.

“Cock’s making you all weak, hm? Bet that feels good doesn’t it babygirl?” He asked, his lips trailing over your neck, leaving kisses along the way.

Your eyes were closed, and your brows were furrowed, the stimulation nearly driving you insane, and the sound of his voice snapped you back into reality.

“I can’t, too big, too good…” You rambled, not even sure of what you were saying anymore. You could feel his smile against the crook of your neck, his lips moving over to the shell of your ear.

“Oh yes you can, you’re doing it right now.” He coaxed.

A low, broken moan escaped from your lips, and you couldn’t help the way your hips started to rock against his desperately— needing more of his cock.

You felt dizzy, everything felt so hot, and the way his cock was hitting you deep inside, you couldn’t take it.

You let out a cry, your eyes rolling back as your orgasm washed over you, Jimin groaned as he felt your muscles tighten around his cock, the sensation sending him over the edge, his cock twitching as he filled you up.

The room fell silent, save for the two of you catching your breath. You collapsed against him, and he wrapped his arms around your waist, peppering your face into kisses.

new guy (m) | knj

title: new guy pairing: fuckboi!namjoon x organization president!reader(f) rating/genre: m (18+) ; smut ; university au, enemies to lovers? summary: all you want to do is have a successful meeting after experiencing dwindling attendance. but the new guy is completely disrupting things… or is he? warnings: cursing, blowjob, choking, smartass joon in those grey joggers, size kink, hitting it from the back, unprotected (pls be safe), edging, namjoon does have a chain who is shocked, manhandling, creampie, light face/cunt slapping, body worship, jimin in business profesh lol notes: hi ! this is for @thebtswritersclub​’s january prompt “new” and i speedily wrote this entire thing bc i would very much like to stay a member LOL thank you to the admin team for being so understanding. love you all and appreciate all the hard work you do! also, thank you cee @yutasthetic​ for letting me use your pretty name! note 2: this is a bit unedited so i apologize in advance loll release date: january 29th, 2022, 7:17pm est word count: 5.5k

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“Thank you all for coming this evening! We have a lot of items on the agenda to discuss so please leave any questions for the end.” 

Keep reading

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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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If u don't like mxm sorry not sorry

just thinking thots of you and jimin on your knees in front of namjoon. . . tongues lapping at at one anothers. . . and joons throbbing. . .

nastyy grown ppl under the cut

He's twitching you both feel it, playful giggling and teasing kisses causing the man above the two of you stomach to clench and tighten trying not to let his thighs start trembling from pleasure. His pretty babies, flushed, gorgeous and slutty taking turns swallowing his cock, kissing and biting at his thighs. He didn't know where to look, put his hands or if he should force your head down because he fed up with the constant teasing of the thick head of his cock. You pop off lewdly, spit glistening on your thick lips as you go and kiss Jimin. Everything was just so messy and nasty. . . and he loved it. His own hand reaches down to stroke his cock watching you two parts, tongues out and ready. With a groan his thick and heavy load lands onto his stomach, and both of your faces. You and Jimin giggle as he tugs you both up with him leading the sloppy three-way kiss. The sound of the door opening causes you three to part ways seokjin stands in the doorway with a shake of his head.

"When I said entertain them this isn't what I meant.."

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Grey Areas

taehyung x fem!reader

genre. implied smut, fluff, angst, romance, non-idol!au, twin!taehyung, BIL!taehyung, widowedmother!reader

Your husband is dead, now you're trying to avoid the man that looks exactly like him. The only problem with that is trauma bonds people, sometimes in more ways than one 

warnings: spouse in the military, death of a spouse, mentions of decapitation, sleeping with your brother-in-law, grief, implied unprotected sex (Be safe and be smart; please use condoms), infidelity, smoking, light drinking, taehyung may or may not be in love with his sister-in-law aka reader, you're a mama (no drama)

word count: 5k

18+ (Minors DNI)

A/n: First and foremost, thank you, @vintagedtae and @cxffee-addxct, for testing/proofreading; if I could give you two kisses, I would! I really needed the feedback. I don't know if I will make this a series because it differs from anything I've ever written, but I really like it. If anyone has seen the movie Brothers, it inspired it. I really hope you all enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it, and I hope you enjoy Twin Taehyung! Thank you all for reading and interacting with it. Please like and reblog! 💜

On January 30th, 2023, you received a knock on your door that would alter your life forever. 

You met your husband when you were ten years old. He was sweet and gentle, and you knew you would get married when you two got older. When you turned 18, he joined the military as a combat medic. He would always tell you he wanted to be a real-life superhero. At 22, he asked you to marry him. It was a beautiful beachside wedding. At 23, you gave birth to your son; you never saw yourself as a mother, and sure, Azra was a handful, but you were happy. By 25, you were a widow, watching as they lowered your husband into the ground, holding your crying son. 

The date was February 14th, the day he was supposed to come home, but you didn’t think it would be in a casket. You weren’t allowed to see your husband one last time. You were told they had gone out on a medevac mission when their helicopter was shot down. In nicer words, they told you your husband was decapitated, and they never found his head. And that was the image you would have to live with forever. The image of your decapitated husband never coming home. 

On the day of the funeral, his family showed you and your son so much compassion. His older twin brother, Taehyung, held your hand as he was lowered into the earth. Everyone expected you to be a mess, but no one knew that you and your husband prepared for this.  He talked about it often to desensitize you. While his dying in combat was always a possibility, you never thought in a million years that what you two spoke about in private would become a reality. So while internally you were destroyed, on the outside, you were stoic, unphased even.

After the repass, you watch quietly as everyone leaves. The only person who stayed was Taehyung. He told you he stayed to help you and that it was customary for someone from the family to stay with the widow while she grieves. Since he had no female siblings, his mother asked Taehyung to stay. 

“Hey, why don’t you go lay down?” he asks, taking a sleeping Azra from you. You just look at him, the dark circles under your eyes prominent. “Okay, I’m going to put him in the nursery, and I’ll be right back.”

It was silent when he walked away. Quiet enough for you to finally hear your thoughts. The inner turmoil is finally getting to you, and at this point, you are far too tired to hold it in anymore. So you let it out, sobbing loudly into the chaise. When Taehyung hears you, he bolts, the need to comfort you overwhelming him.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay. Everything is going to be okay,” he says softly, cradling you in his arms. You pound your fists into his chest, angry at the world for taking your person. Eventually, you lose the energy to continue, balling your fists into his shirt. After what seemed like forever, you passed out in Taehyung’s arms.

Taehyung sighs in relief. What did he know about comforting anyone, let alone his younger brother's widow? What was he supposed to do to help you? Nothing he could say would ever bring him back, and telling you everything would be okay would only comfort you for so long. And who would comfort him? He lost his best friend since birth. He wasn’t like you, though. He never kept it bottled up. When you called to let him know, he dropped to his knees, sobbing loudly into the receiver before hanging up. He cried every day leading up to the funeral and even at the funeral, but no one told him that they were sorry for his loss. They only focused on you and his mother, but what about him? What about how he felt? He lost his identical twin brother, someone he spent every day with for 18 years. He had always held a little resentment for you for stealing his best friend, but right now, he loathes you. You weren't the only one hurting. He didn’t even want to stay here with you while you grieve. He begged his mom not to make him but was met with a slap to the face.

Nonetheless, he picks you up gently and carries you to your room. He sets you down just as gently as if you would break if he weren’t careful. He grabs the blanket at the bottom of your bed and covers you with it, tucking you in. He stands over you, admiring you briefly. He hated you for many things, and one of them was for being so pretty. He pushes the thought away, too inappropriate considering what is going on, before turning to leave. 

“Taejoon?” you call out to him. Your dreams came true. He came back to you, “Come back to bed, don’t leave me again.”

“I’m not Tae-” he can't finish the sentence. You won’t let him. You desperately want it to be your husband. You know deep down it isn’t him, but lying to yourself will help with the giant hole you have in your chest right now. 

“Please, Taejoon… I’m scared.” it comes out so weak and pathetic that it genuinely pains Taehyung to hear. His heart breaks for you, the hatred he had for you dissipating. But he still doesn’t turn to face you,  so you plead for him again.

“Close your eyes…” he says softly. Taehyung decides to do this for you just once. He knew that it would hurt you more if he just walked away. It would hurt him just as much to pretend to be his brother, but he just wanted you to sleep. “Tell me when they’re closed.”

You tell him, and he walks slowly to the bed. He cups your cheek and runs his thumb against it softly. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you…” You lean into his touch, and he joins you on the bed. “Let’s go to sleep.”

Taehyung takes you in his arms once more on this terrible day. You bury your head into his chest, and he strokes your hair. He swears he felt you kiss his collarbone but he chalks it up to you being delirious. He wants to hate you so bad, but to hate you would be to hate a piece of his brother. He wants to get up and leave you to wallow in your sadness, but he knows that isn’t what Taejoon would want. Taehyung hasn’t felt so conflicted in his life, but what he is sure of is that seeing you call out for your husband hurt him more than he expected. And what he was absolutely sure of was that he would never let you cry like that again.

When you woke up, you felt arms wrapped around you. So you turned slowly to see who it was, and the face you saw excited you, so you cupped his cheek softly. You moved to peck him gently and realized who it was before you did. You knew it wasn’t Taejoon because of the small moles under his eye and on his nose. So you jolt up, startling Taehyung in the process.

“What hell are you doing in my bed?!” you move away from him quickly. Taehyung is rubbing his eyes, looking around at where he is.

“Where am I?” he seems confused about where he is and who you are.

“Taehyung, why are you in my bed, let alone in my room.” You stand up and make a lot of distance between the two of you. You turn to face the door. The last person you want to look at is Taehyung. Right now, you hate the fact that he looks exactly like Taejoon. It makes you physically ill to look at Taehyung. But before you can dwell on that for too long, Azra is crying. You look towards the nursery sighing. "Anyways, get out of my room and go home.”

He nods and gets out of bed, “I’ll get the baby. Just rest, please.” He’s noticed you refuse to look at him, and he can’t be sure why, but it hurts him a little.

“No! No, I want you to leave, Taehyung. Please.” he moved back into your line of sight, so you turn away and walk to the nursery. Taehyung follows behind you.

“I can leave you alone, but I’m not going. I told my mom I’d stay for the next couple of weeks.” He takes Azra from you, and you move to take him back but are immediately deterred by his face. “You know you’re going to have to look at me eventually. I’m his uncle, I’ll be around…”

You sigh in defeat but still don't look up, “I don’t think you’ll ever understand how hard it is to look at you, Taehyung. It hurts... And I don’t want to cry anymore.”

He scoffs, “You’re not serious, right? I don’t understand? I have to do is look in the fucking mirror and be reminded of my brother. Someone I shared a womb and room with almost my entire life. You’re not the only person hurting.” he leaves with Azra to the kitchen, and you're just standing there. You want to yell at him, but you don’t want to upset the baby.

You knew part of you wished that Taehyung was Taejoon and that life was normal. You thought it was unfair that you had to go through this. But he’s right; he isn't the only one hurting. You’d been so selfish with your grief that you weren’t allowing anyone to join you in it. And he was also right that you’d have to look at him eventually, but you'd deal with that when the time was right. Right now, all you want is your son.

“Can I have Azra, please?” Azra coos out a little mama when he sees you, and Taehyung looks over at you and then back to Azra as he feeds him his banana baby food. 

“Um, we're having nom-noms right now. Right, Azzy? We’re having nom noms?” Azra giggles, repeating the word, and you wish you could be in his shoes. Living his baby life with no concept of death. You stared at him and realized one day, you’d have to tell him about his father, and tears welled up in your eyes.

“Taehyung, I don’t need your help. I need you to leave, please. You can come over later, but I want to be alone now.” You take Azra out of his high chair and walk towards the den. “We can discuss why you were in my bed after I take Azra to daycare, then you can come with me to pick up some of Taejoon’s things from the base. Come back in 2 hours, I’ll be ready then…”

Taehyung reluctantly agrees. He’s scared to leave you, in all honesty. Taejoon had mentioned to him about your past struggles with your mental health, but he didn't want to come off as he couldn’t trust you. You wanted you to know he understood what you were going through and was there for you and Azra. 

You watch through the curtains as Taehyung pulls out of the driveway and drives off into the distance. You turn back to the living room and look around. You feel… empty. You knew that grief never grows smaller with time and that life grows around grief. It was such a cliche analogy, and it helped you when your grandmother died, but this was different. You and Taejoon talked about getting old and grey together. About watching Azra graduate high school and college, get married, and have children. Now, it was just you, no Taejoon, to help with the woes of parenting. You, at 25, are a widowed mom of one. You’re going to miss hearing the sound of him breathing when you lay your head on his chest. You’re going to miss the way he kissed you, held you, and made love to you. You would miss the way he would quote Napoleon Dynamite at the most random times. You were going to miss him. Plain and simple. You wish you had time to grieve but couldn’t because you had responsibilities. So you pushed yourself to keep going because of Azra.

About 2 hours later, you pull into your driveway, returning home from taking the baby to daycare. Taehyung is already there, waiting outside, smoking a cigarette. The feeling of annoyance was brewing inside you. But then you push the feeling away because how could you be annoyed with someone just trying to do the same thing you are; grieve. So you get out of the car and join him on the stoop. “Why are you waiting outside? You know where the house key is. It’s the middle of fall; it's cold.”

“I didn’t want to be reminded of him right away.” he takes a drag, handing you a coffee he picked up on the way back to the house, which you happily accept. “Your house smells like him still. It’s weird.”

You nod; he’s not wrong. It does smell like him, but you like that. You didn’t want to forget that smell. “Yeah, I know. It is kinda weird, isn’t it.” you chuckle softly. He smiles at you, and you meet his eyes finally. You feel something weird, something that makes you blush. He looks away quickly, taking another drag of his cigarette as he stands before flicking it. “Let’s go get my brother’s shit.”

An hour later, you finally leave base with the bit of stuff your husband left behind and some paperwork explaining how your benefits will now work. You don’t even care about that stuff, especially because this wasn’t how life was supposed to be going for you. You get back in the car and give Taehyung the box. “I have to go meet with a lawyer about his will. I need a witness so they can open it. Would you like to come?” He nods, and you drive off.

“So why were you in my bed?” you ask, looking over to see his cheeks are now rosy.

“Well, after you passed out from crying, I went to put you in bed and..” he looks worried; he doesn’t want to embarrass you. 

“And???” you press. 

“And…” He sighs, “And when I went to leave… You confused me with Joon, and I didn’t have the heart to stop you, so I held you until you fell asleep. However, anytime I moved, you’d grip me tighter, so I fell asleep with you…” He rubs the back of his head, and you know he’s just as embarrassed as you are. “I know it was inappropriate, but you wouldn’t let me leave..”

“Oh..” the silence that follows is extremely awkward. “Well, thank you for staying, I guess..”

“Yeah, don’t mention it. Literally.” He chuckles. 

The drive to the law office is quiet and gives you time to think about what his will could say. It’s strange, though, because he never told you about it. You just assumed when he died that everything would go to you and Azra by default, but knowing he had a will scared you. Because what could he possibly have to say?

“We’re here..” you don’t move, not even to unbuckle yourself. Your hands are gripping the steering wheel so hard your knuckles are turning white. Your heart feels like it’s going to explode. Taehyung takes your hand, rubbing the back of it with his thumb.

“Calm down, nothing can get worse. I know my brother. He’d never do anything to hurt you.” You wished it soothed you to hear those words, but his brother had done something to hurt you. Of course, it wasn't intentional, but it hurt nonetheless.

“Taehyung, your brother has done a lot to hurt me. None of them like this, though. This one he can’t fix with flowers and chocolates.” you say, half giggling, the other half getting choked up.

“Listen, I know this seems like the end of the world, and trust me, it sure as fuck feels like it. But let’s be realistic. You’ll eventually grow to deal with the loss of my brother. You’ll move on with your life, find some awesome guy, and fall in love with him. You’ll probably even get remarried. Realistically, of course.” you just look at him. The way he could say the most asinine shit you’ve ever heard honestly pissed you off.

“Why the fuck would you say that to me right now? I just buried him yesterday. Are you dumb? Please just shut the fuck up until I tell you to talk.” You finally move to get out of the car, slamming the door behind you and mumbling about how much of an idiot he was.

But that was the thing; Taehyung wasn’t stupid. He just says ridiculous shit. In fact, Taehyung graduated cum laude from Stanford, which is why you can’t understand why he doesn't think before he talks. 

He sits in the car briefly before coming out and following closely behind you. You two walk into the law office. The receptionist says she’s expecting you and leads you to a small conference room. “I’m nervous…” you sigh, fidgeting.

Before long, a tall, tan-skinned man walked in. He explained the legal jargon and then allowed you and Taehyung time to read over the will. But that's the thing: It wasn’t a will; it was more like letters to people in his life. You found the page for Taehyung and handed it to him. It wasn’t long before you heard sniffling coming from him. You smiled at him. You thought it was sweet how vulnerable he could be.

One page was dedicated to you, telling you all the passwords to his socials and bank accounts, where he had hidden money for Azra, and that he was sorry, but that was all. Nothing else was there. No, I love you, no, I’ll see you again someday, nothing. It was like all you were to him was a vessel to carry and care for his child. To say you were hurt was a complete understatement. But before you could take in the reality of what was happening, you found a page for a woman named Natalie. It describes how much he cared for her but also how much he regretted cheating on you while you were pregnant. He went on to tell her about the life he had imagined with her during their affair, but when you gave birth, it gave him a new meaning in your marriage and that he was sorry they ever got involved. He left her a small amount of money; it wasn’t said for what, only that she would understand what it was for. You only knew of one Natalie; you all went to high school together, but the last you heard, she moved to Los Angeles and hadn’t been back since. There was no way. This had to be Taejoon’s idea of a joke. There was no other explanation.

You wanted to know when he even had time to cheat? If he wasn’t at work, he was with you. You try to think of any time he was not with you, but then you remember that he started going to the gym more often during your pregnancy. You thought nothing of it. He was in the military, for god sake. And you held on to that notion until you spotted her walking into the office.

“Hey, what does yours say? Mine tells me to take care of you and Az, and he finally admitted he broke my Donatello figure when we were younger. Plus some other stuff, but that's private.” He chuckles. He must’ve noticed your eyes glazed over because he waved his hand in front of your face. “Helloooo, anyone home?”

“He cheated..” is all you could squeak out. It’s almost inaudible.

 Taehyung doesn’t want to believe that you just said, “What? How do you know that? Let me see.” he snatches the papers from your hands and reads them repeatedly. “No way, Joon would never do that.”

“He did, and she’s here. The blonde woman you see in the lobby. Thats her… I don’t think she knows I’m here, nor was I even supposed to read that. I don’t think he meant to put it in there.” You both sit there in silence; before you know it, you’re storming into the lobby.

She looked shocked to see you, like she didn't understand what you were doing there. “y/n, what’re you doing here?”

“What the fuck do you mean what am I doing here? What are you doing here?” You scoff. You can’t believe this lady. She has the nerve to question you like you’re the mistress. So, you do the most logical thing you could do in any law office. You slap the shit out of her. “So you like fucking married men while their wives are at home caring for their children? Huh? Huh? ANSWER ME!”

She looks terrified and confused, clutching her now red cheek. “Married. He told me you two were divorced and that he only wore his ring to keep appearances with his parents.”

“Oh please, you can’t be that fucking stupid. YOU WENT TO FUCKING BERKLEY! You knew; don’t play dumb with me!” You are furious and yelling so loud a crowd is starting to gather. Taehyung comes up behind you, trying to calm you so he can get you outside, but you’re struggling in his grip. “HEY EVERYONE, HIDE YOUR HUSBANDS NATALIE STARK LIKES TO FUCK MARRIED MEN. NO, LET ME GO TAEHYUNG!”

“Nope, it’s time to go,” he says, flinging you over his shoulder.

Taehyung finally got you into the parking lot, but you still weren’t calm. He didn’t know what to do or say, so he lit a cigarette and handed it to you. “Here, it helps with the stress.”

You take it. You hadn’t smoked a cigarette in almost two years, choosing to quit right before you found out you were pregnant. “Thank you,” you say before taking a long drag. The nicotine rushes straight to your head, mellowing you out. “I swear to god, your bother is so fucking lucky he fucking died before I found this out because I would’ve killed him my-damn-self.”

You sigh. Your world is crumbling around you. How could you not have known? And what did you do to deserve this? You never spoke down to him, hell you doted on the mother fucker, and still he cheated. He lied to you every day with a smile on his face like everything was fine. Why couldn’t he be a man and tell you he was unhappy? Why did he have to die for you to find out? You wanted answers, and the shittiest thing, about it, was that you’d never get them.

Taehyung is still quiet. You wish he would just go away because looking at him makes you angrier than before. “Can you turn around or something? Your face is pissing me off.”

“Listen, I understand you’re upset but don’t take that shit out on me. I’m not Taejoon, I didn’t do shit to you. Get in the fucking car, I want to go home.” He snatches the keys from you and walks to the other side of the car.

You finish your cigarette and get in. By the time you two make it back to town, you have to go pick up Azra. So you drop Taehyung off at your house and get him. When you left, you told Tae you wanted him to be gone when you returned, but he didn’t listen.

You were too tired to argue with Taehyung, so you put Azra down for a nap and then walked to the kitchen. “You want a glass of wine? I have a feeling the rest of the week is going to suck as bad as today,” you call out to Taehyung from the kitchen.

“Yeah, sure. Can I smoke in here?” he’s walking around the den, looking at all the pictures. He stops on a photo of you two at your baby shower. He smiles fondly. If Taehyung was honest, he wished he was around more. He hadn’t seen you or his brother since Azra was born. And he regretted that. 

Taehyung had a secret he told no one but hated you for. At your wedding, you told the story about how you met your husband, but the boy you met that day was Taehyung. He fell in love with you the moment he laid eyes on you. He confessed to you a week later and told you to think about it. When he went to find you the following day, he saw you kissing his brother; the rest is history. 

“Uh, no, but we can go into the sunroom. It’s heated, and I have the baby monitor.” You leave the kitchen and go into the den, “Is that okay with you?”

Taehyung looks over at you. He wished that it was him that you had fallen in love with. He would never hurt you in the way that Taejoon had. He felt selfish for his thoughts about you. They were wrong. Especially considering the current circumstances. But if he was being honest, you’d never look more beautiful to him than you did right now. Your hair was messy, with no make-up on, in sweatpants and an oversized t-shirt. “Yeah, that's fine.”

You grab the bottle and some glasses and walk towards the sunroom, placing them on the coffee table and going to the sound system. You didn’t want to listen to the silence. You put on something soft and airy to help soothe your nerves. Your week had gone from bad to fucked up in a matter of 24 hours. Whoever you were in your previous life must have been one fucked up person because your current life is kicking your ass.

“Hey, you guys got it remodeled. I like it.” he looks around, admiring the work.

“Uh, no, I remodeled it. Your brother did jack shit but complain about how it was keeping him awake.” You roll your eyes and throw yourself into one of the many chairs, sighing.

Taehyung takes a seat next to you.“I’m sorry this is happening to you. I know I was giving you a hard time earlier today, but I just wanted you to know you’re not alone. I’m here for you completely.” He grabs your hand. You look down at your hands and then back at him.

“It’s just tough to be around you, Taehyung. Even more so now than before. I wish you would get that, but you’re so goddamn stubborn. And you’re really touchy, it’s weird.” You remove your hand from his and pour two glasses.

He chuckles. “I’m sorry. It’s just how I show people I care. But if it makes you uncomfortable, I’ll stop.” He grabs a glass and takes a sip. He stands to open a window and then lights a cigarette. “Do you have an ashtray?”

You set one down on the coffee table. Taehyung turns to look back at where you set it, and for a split second, life feels normal. Like Taejoon didn’t die, you didn’t find out he was cheating, and you felt happy. The silence that follows you is so comfortable. He smiles at you before looking back out the window. Then Fade into You by Mazy Star comes on, and Taehyung walks over to you.

“Dance with me.” He extends a hand to you.

You scrunch your face with a smile, “I’m tired.” you try to push his hand away, but he pulls you up by your hand. You give into the dance eventually, resting your head on his chest.

“I know I’ve said it a lot today, but I’m sorry about everything my brother has put you through… I would’ve never done that to you. You’re way too precious to me.” you pull away to look at him. And he stares down at you. The tension is so thick you could cut it with a knife. And before you knew it, your lips were crashing together. 

You both knew it was wrong, but it was like magnets. You two couldn’t pull away. Your hands move to the hem of Taehyung's shirt, sliding up against the smooth skin of his torso. He wasn’t lean, and you liked that a lot, so you scraped your nails against his stomach. “Take this off.”

He takes his shirt off and moves to take yours off. When he finally gets it off, he starts kissing down your chest, “I’ve wanted to do this since I was 15..” You swear you hallucinate him saying that. You unbutton his jeans and slide your hand into his boxers. He moans softly into your neck, and that was enough for him to snap. He tugs your sweatpants down, having you step out of the. He kisses your inner thigh before pulling your panties down, not even allowing you a second before he picks you up and pins you against the window.

Now, to say that Taehyung wasn't gentle was an understatement. He fucked you like he hated you like he wanted you to know how much you ruined his life, but also how much he was willing to give up to be with you. And as much as you knew it was wrong, you loved it. Neither of you talked the whole time. You both enjoy not being sad for once. When everything was all said and done, Taehyung set you down gently and walked away, sitting on the floor. He knew the severity of what had just happened and needed time to process it. But there was no going back from what just happened. You both had effectively ruined each other's lives.

You joined Taehyung on the floor, sitting behind him and leaning your head on his back. You planted a small kiss on his shoulder. You knew everything would be okay when he reached back for your hand to hold. “I’m gonna take care of you from now on,” he says as he kisses the inner of your wrist.

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credit to @cafekitsune for the dividers

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