Hello my chickens, here is my (always being updated) masterlist! Thank you for supporting and enjoying ♡
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Smut and mature themes are marked as *
Content warnings and themes will be listed in every post.
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Kim Taehyung
Redemption*
wc: ~5k, 20 min
summary: Tae could have anyone he wanted, but seeing you resurface after disappearing abroad for several years has his teenage crush doubling over you all again. And this time, he is absolutely desperate to make you see him.
Nectar* | Valentine's Day Special
wc: ~2.7K, 10 min
summary: after several drinks on a night off, Tae snuck over to your hotel room to see you. The two of you were a strict secret, but his drunk self couldn’t help himself.
Like a Reflex* | nerdy sub!Taehyung
wc: 11k, 44 min
pairing: au nerdy salary man sub!tae x dom fem!reader
summary: Taehyung was every mother's dream son-in-law. He worked hard at his high-paying IT job; he woke up early to go to the gym, ate dinner at the exact same time, and went to bed early. You, on the other hand, are not one to settle down; you are young, gorgeous, smart, and independent. He’s disciplined in all areas of his life, except when you’re around. When he runs into you again on a night out with his friends, he knows that he’s about to be a puddle in your hand: you're the only one who can bring out the type of man he really is.
Like a Reflex: Zero* - Prequel (coming soon)★
Towering Heights* - Limited Series (ongoing)
일: 1
TH:Re (Part 1.5)
이: 2
삼: 3
사: 4
오: 5
육: 6
pairing: au drug dealer taehyung x young neighbour reader x gangster jungkook
summary: he was a sweet neighbour, a friendly face that made you feel like you weren't alone in this new city. Until one day, you accidentally uncovered what he did for work, and now you're stuck in his tangled mess.
Towering Heights: Re*
*insequential to the main series but same au*
wc: 3.7k, 15 min
pairing: au drug dealer taehyung x young neighbour reader
You Call, I Run*
wc: 3k, 12 min
requested by reader: "I’ve had this idea for a while after watching the BTS Return documentary, it’s how all the guys are stressing out in LA for the album. Can I get a Tae one shot of how he comes home so stressed after a not-so-successful day at the studio and calls Y/N (who is his gf) to come meet him at once, who is a stress relief (if you know what I mean🙊)"
Diamonds Dancing*
wc: 3.3k, 13 min
requested by reader: Taehyung teases you about loving his new look and his fucking grills in the Hooligan MV, and as a last goodbye before the start of the Arirang tour, you decided to hit him back with some jewelry of your own.
Body to Body* — Kim Taehyung x Jeon Jungkook
wc: 5.3k, 22 min
requested by reader: The Taekook threesome of your fucking dreams. after signing two very extensive and detailed NDAs, you wake up after the wildest night of your life. What happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas, right?
Drabbles/Blurbs
Boyfriend!Taehyung headcannons
things boyfriend Taehyung would do: physical affection, domestic + flirting —
Like a Reflex! Snippet: sub nerdy Taehyung solo male <3
Taehyung can’t seem to keep his mind off of you while he’s home alone.
── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──
Jeon Jungkook
Liaison - Limited Series (complete)
Part 1
Part 2*
Part 3*
Part 4*
summary: You’re Jungkook’s coordinator for the few days that he is in town for work. You’re good at your job and don't tend to let the lines blur, but being at his beck and call gives him other ideas.
Heartstopper - Limited Series (ongoing)
Part 1
Part 2
Part 3
Part 4
summary: Jungkook was an idol to everyone else, but you grew up with him as your brother's best friend, the guy who stayed way too late at your brother's apartment and screamed at his video games too loudly. He always treated you as a younger sister until you resurfaced as a freshly debuted idol with an attitude problem. When your label forces you to reconnect with him as your mentor, you're forced to spend a lot more time with him in a new way that you haven't experienced before.
Towering Heights* - Limited Series (ongoing)
*Jungkook is featured in this series that is mostly about Taehyung*
일: 1
TH:Re (Part 1.5)
이: 2
삼: 3
사: 4
오: 5
육: 6
pairing: au drug dealer taehyung x young neighbour reader x gangster jungkook
summary: he was a sweet neighbour, a friendly face that made you feel like you weren't alone in this new city. Until one day, you accidentally uncovered what he did for work, and now you're stuck in his tangled mess.
Body to Body* — Kim Taehyung x Jeon Jungkook
wc: 5.3k, 22 min
requested by reader: The Taekook threesome of your fucking dreams. after signing two very extensive and detailed NDAs, you wake up after the wildest night of your life. What happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas, right?
Drabbles/Blurbs
No Cream, Two Sugars
wc: 1.5k, 5 min
requested by reader: "Hi, can I make a request where Jungkook falls in love with a café owner who’s younger than him? He goes there every day just to see her and tries to get her to notice him, but he doesn’t realize that she noticed him from the very first time he walked into the café."
── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──
Park Jimin
Sugar On My Tongue*
wc: 2.1k, 8 min
requested by reader: “not that anyone asked but the way jimin keeps having his tongue out lately all i can think about is that he might be into facesitting…”
when the stoic and devastatingly handsome sir jeon jungkook is appointed as your personal knight, sworn to guard your royal highness with a will forged from steel, you quickly discover that his greatest strength may also be his most infuriating trait, he is utterly immune to you. no matter how tightly you lace your corset, he remains the perfect knight, eyes respectfully averted, jaw set like stone. but while sir jungkook may be a man of steel, you are a princess accustomed to getting what you want, and with every sinful intention of discovering whether even the realm’s most loyal knight could be brought to his knees for you.
⎯⎯ pairing: knight jungkook x princess y/n
warnings: erotica, forbidden medieval fantasy au, porn with plot, age gap, yearning, size difference, oral fixation (f.), unprotected sex, the princess is very horny, cold,dom!knight, bigdick!knight, breeding, pregnancy trope, war brutality, motherhood, subtle angst
word count: 20.5k
The great hall of the royal palace echoed with the murmurs of the assembled court. The King sat upon his throne, his stern gaze sweeping over the line of elite knights who had come to compete for the highest honor in the realm, becoming the personal protector of his only daughter, the princess, you.
The position was coveted for many reasons, but none more obvious than the princess herself.
Beauty had always been your burden as much as your blessing. Tales of it traveled farther than merchants and faster than ravens, crossing borders until even distant courts spoke your name with a mixture of admiration and longing. Princes penned verses in your honor without ever meeting you. Even seasoned knights, men hardened by war and duty, often found themselves disarmed by nothing more than a smile.
With your coronation fast approaching, the kingdom stood on the brink of celebration. It would be the grandest event seen in decades, drawing princes, dignitaries from every corner of the continent. Some would arrive seeking alliances. Most would arrive seeking you.
The prospect amused you more than it excited you.
“Protecting my daughter is not merely a matter of strength,” your father’s voice boomed through the hall. “It demands unyielding discipline and absolute loyalty. You will each face three trials. The princess herself will accompany you, so that you may prove your worth in her presence.”
Your eyes swept slowly across the line of knights standing before the throne, a faint mask of boredom kissing your beautiful face, certain that none of them would truly be able to handle you.
For years, entertaining yourself at the expense of knights had become something of a pastime. A lingering touch against a gauntleted hand, a mere whispered compliment that left disciplined warriors suddenly forgetting their own names. Watching them struggle to maintain their composure was endlessly amusing.
You had notoriously toyed with men like this, living wildly beneath the weight of your royal title, and your father knew this better than anyone. That was precisely why he had designed these trials.
He wasn’t simply looking for the strongest sword arm. He wanted a knight with sharp intellect and the rare ability to withstand your constant attempts to live life on your terms rather than as a perfectly mannered princess.
A small, intrigued smile played on your lips when the first few knights stepped forward. They were impressive in brute force, but you could already tell they would crumble the moment you decided to play.
Then he stepped forward.
Sir Jeon Jungkook.
Even fully armored, with only his dark, piercing eyes visible through the narrow slit of his helmet, once his unflinching gaze met yours for a brief second, a strange spark ignited low in your belly. You tilted your head, studying those dark eyes with growing interest.
The first trial took place that very evening in the smaller banquet hall. Only a select few courtiers were present. You sat at the high table beside your father, sipping from a jeweled goblet.
Unknown to the competing knights, the King had arranged for one of the wine pitchers to be laced with a powerful sleeping draught. Harmless, but potent enough to leave the princess disoriented and vulnerable. Only the King, a few trusted advisors, and the princess herself knew of the plan.
The knights had been given only one instruction: protect the princess. No further details.
As the evening progressed, the effects of the draught began to take hold. Your thoughts grew pleasantly hazy, movements slower. The jeweled goblet nearly slipped from your grasp once before you caught it. A second time, you laughed at something that had not been particularly funny.
Several knights noticed. Some were too busy trying to appear vigilant, eyes constantly scanning the room for imaginary assassins.
A few noticed your condition and drew dangerously close. One insisted on helping you stand despite the fact that you had not asked for assistance. Another rested a hand against your lower back almost inappropriately while guiding you through the room. One knight even smiled when he realized how heavily you leaned upon him after stumbling.
The courtiers watched everything. So did the King.
You were beginning to feel genuinely annoyed when a tall figure stepped silently between you and yet another overeager knight.
Sir Jeon Jungkook.
Unlike the others, he had not hovered around you all evening. He had remained where a royal protector belonged, close enough to intervene, distant enough to respect your space.
Dark eyes studied your face through the narrow opening of his helmet. “The princess has had enough wine,” he declared.
The knight beside you scoffed. “She seems perfectly fin—”
“She does not.”
You watched surprise flicker across the other knight’s face.
Sir Jungkook’s hand briefly closed around your forearm as you swayed, steadying you before immediately letting go the moment your balance returned.
Within moments he had summoned two ladies-in-waiting to accompany you back to your chambers. When another knight offered to carry you himself, Sir Jungkook declined on your behalf before you could even answer.
“Her reputation is as important as her safety.”
For the first time all evening, genuine curiosity stirred within you.
Most men saw opportunity when they looked at you. Some saw beauty, a few saw a future crown. Yet somehow, Sir Jeon Jungkook seemed to see only his duty.
As the ladies guided you toward the doorway, you glanced back over your shoulder.
“How noble of you, Sir Jungkook,” you teased, voice softened by the draught. “Are you always so resistant to temptation?”
His gaze never wavered. “My duty is to protect Your Highness.”
For reasons you could not quite explain, that response lingered in your thoughts far longer than any flirtatious remark ever had.
The final trial was, by all appearances, the simplest.
After weeks of staged attacks, hidden tests, the remaining candidates expected one final demonstration of skill. Some anticipated a duel. Others believed they would be sent to defend the princess from another fabricated threat. Instead, the King announced that the last trial would consist of a single week of personal duty beside the princess. No further explanation was offered.
The knights were disappointed.
You, however, knew exactly what your father was doing.
The trial was not designed to test strength or intelligence. It was designed to test restraint.
Most of the candidates failed within days. Some became overly eager whenever you requested their company.
Others ignored palace protocol the moment you suggested bending the rules. One knight allowed you to wander through the city market without informing the royal guard because he was too eager to please you. Another accepted an invitation to share wine in one of the palace balconies despite knowing perfectly well how improper it appeared. Every failure was carefully observed and quietly recorded.
Only one knight remained infuriatingly impossible.
Sir Jeon Jungkook.
The more you watched him, the more determined you became to discover his weakness. Surely he had one. Everyone did.
At first, your attempts were harmless. During walks through the palace gardens, you lingered beside him instead of remaining ahead as protocol dictated. During meals, you directed most of your conversation toward him. More than once, you deliberately brushed your fingers against the steel of his gauntlet while speaking. Other knights would have turned crimson. Some would have stumbled over their own words.
Sir Jungkook merely stepped aside and continued his duties as though nothing had happened.
Perhaps it was the way every other knight had spent the past weeks attempting to impress you, the King, or the court.
Where others sought favor, he sought only to fulfill his duty. And thus, when the day of the final judgment arrived, the outcome surprised absolutely no one.
Your father rose slowly from his seat.
“Sir Jeon Jungkook,” he declared, voice echoing through the hall. “You have successfully completed all trials. You have shown not only strength and intellect, but the rare ability to anticipate danger and resist… temptation.” His gaze flicked briefly to you. “From this day forward, you are hereby appointed as the princess’s personal royal knight and protector. Guard her with your life. And may the gods help you.”
A murmur rippled through the court.
You turned toward Sir Jeon Jungkook, stepping just close enough that your crimson gown brushed his armor.
“Welcome to my service, Sir Jungkook,” you whispered so only he could hear. “I do hope you’re prepared. Resisting me may prove to be your greatest trial yet.”
His dark eyes held yours with unshakable strength. “I was under the impression I had already passed that one, Your Highness.”
—
Having Sir Jeon Jungkook follow you around all day wasn’t ideal.
It had not even been three months since his appointment as your royal knight, yet his constant, silent presence had already begun to grate on your nerves. He was always a towering shadow in dark armor, never more than a few steps behind. What annoyed you most was his utter lack of reaction.
No matter how boldly you flirted, no matter how you tightened your corset in front of him until your breasts nearly spilled over, no matter how many times you “accidentally” brushed against him, he remained perfectly composed.
What bothered you most of all was that you still had no idea what he looked like. Only those dark, intense eyes visible through the narrow slit of his helmet. The rest of him remained hidden behind steel, a constant, frustrating mystery.
The journey to the neighboring kingdom for the grand alliance celebration had been long and stifling. You rode in the royal ornate covered carriage borne by four strong horses and guarded on all sides. The extravagant gown you wore was beautiful but suffocating, the tight corset pressing against your ribs and making every breath feel like a struggle. Boredom weighed on you like lead.
Your dearest friend, Lady Isolde rode beside you in her own litter. She was to be wed in a month, and the two of you had spent the journey giggling like girls again, whispering behind silk curtains.
“He’s so tall,” Isolde teased, peeking through the gap toward where Sir Jeon Jungkook rode steadily beside your litter. “And those eyes… I wonder what the rest of him looks like under all that steel. Do you think he’s handsome, or just another brute?”
You laughed softly, though your gaze lingered on the narrow slit of Jungkook’s helmet, where those dark, intense eyes remained fixed forward.
“As if,” you replied, laced with mock boredom. “He’s far too proper. I could tighten my corset until my breasts nearly spill, and he wouldn’t even glance.”
Isolde giggled. “You should try. For science.”
Sir Jungkook’s eyes flicked toward the litter for the briefest second before returning forward. You smirked. Annoyed as you were by his constant, unflinching presence… you were also undeniably intrigued.
That night, after the feasting and music had died down and the royal party made camp near the forest’s edge, you slipped away, desperate for even a moment of peace, and determined to test just how far his restraint could stretch.
The air had grown chilly, carrying the faint bite of early autumn as you made your way to the forbidden stretch of the deep bend where the river water ran swift and dangerously deep. No one was permitted here after dark, especially not the princess.
You knew he would follow.
The heavy footsteps of armor soon echoed behind you on the rocky bank.
“Your Highness,” Sir Jungkook’s deep voice rang out, firm. “This area is strictly prohibited at night. The currents are treacherous and the water is far too cold. We must return to the palace at once.”
You barely looked at him. Your eyes were fastened upon the vast expanse of the river, moonlight dancing across its dark surface like scattered diamonds. You wanted nothing more than to feel the cool waves kissing your bare skin, to swim freely under the moon with no eyes judging you in, except his.
A small, unusually kind smile touched your lips as you turned toward him.
“Why don’t you join me, Sir Jungkook?” you asked softly, your voice carrying on the gentle night breeze. “Just for a little while. The water looks so peaceful tonight.”
Sir Jungkook stood like a statue in his dark armor. “Your Highness… that would be highly improper,” he replied, voice low. “I am here to protect you, not to… bathe with you.”
You let out a soft, melodic laugh and began walking toward the river’s edge, the hem of your gown brushing the grass.
“Well, I suppose then…” you bit your lip, your fingers moving to the laces of your gown with aching slowness. “I shall swim, and you will stand guard like the loyal knight you are.”
You could feel his intense eyes watching through the narrow slit of his helmet as you loosened the ties. The rich fabric slid from your shoulders like liquid silk, pooling at your feet.
Completely bare under the moonlight, you wore nothing beneath. Your skin glowed luminous and your full breasts rose and fell with each breath, nipples already stiff from the cold night air. The curve of your waist flared into soft hips, and the smooth, delicate skin between your thighs was on full display.
Sir Jungkook immediately turned his head sharply away, staring fixedly into the dark trees.
“Your Highness!” His voice was strained. “This is highly inappropriate. I cannot allow—”
“You don’t have to allow anything,” you cut him off, dripping with defiance. “You’re not permitted to touch me while I’m bare. So you’ll just have to stand there.”
You waded into the river with a soft gasp. The icy water bit into your skin, but the thrill of rebellion pushed you forward. You swam out deeper, the cold making your body hypersensitive.
You glanced back at the bank. Sir Jungkook stood like a statue, head turned away, refusing to look at your naked form even once. His armored fists were clenched tightly at his sides.
A thrill of satisfaction ran through you.
You felt exhilarated. Free. And wickedly aware that the most disciplined man in the kingdom was standing on the bank, fighting not to look at you.
“Are you really going to stand there all night, Sir Jungkook? The water feels wonderful… and I’m all alone out here.” You swam further out, the cold water caressing every inch of your bare skin. A soft, content sigh escaped your lips.
It would be a plain lie if you said you weren’t at least a little relieved that he had followed you. The deep bend was no joke. its treacherous currents and deadly depth were feared even by The King. Yet here you were, aching to tear down the walls of the knight who refused to bend to your charms.
You floated lazily on your back, letting the moonlight kiss your bare skin. Then, with a mischievous glint in your eyes, you took your chance.
Once a subtle current tugged at your legs, you gasped dramatically, flailing your arms and letting out a soft, helpless cry. “Oh—!”
You fought back a giggle, pretending to be a damsel in distress, knowing the current wasn’t strong enough to truly endanger you. You wanted to see if you could finally crack his composure.
But the gods had other plans.
Without warning, a far more treacherous undercurrent slammed into you like a living beast. It dragged you under violently, twisting your body, filling your mouth and nose with icy water. Real panic surged through you as you lost your breath and sight in the black depths.
“Jungkook!” you screamed, the sound barely coherent as water rushed into your lungs. This time, it was no act.
Sir Jeon Jungkook did not hesitate for even a fraction of a second. He plunged into the river fully armored, cutting through the violent current with powerful strokes. His strong arms wrapped around your waist, yanking your naked body against his steel chest as he fought the river with raw, expert strength. You clung to him desperately, coughing and gasping as he dragged you back to the rocky bank.
The moment he pulled you ashore, his helmet caught on a low hanging branch and was ripped clean off.
You lay on the grass, gasping for air, when your eyes finally focused on the man hovering above you.
And you forgot how to breathe.
Sir Jeon Jungkook was devastatingly, unfairly handsome.
Wet raven black hair clung to his forehead and sharp, sculpted cheekbones. Water droplets traced the strong line of his jaw and dripped from sensual lips. His dark eyes, now fully exposed, were intense and beautiful, framed by long lashes and thick brows. A faint scar graced his left eyebrow, adding a rugged edge to his otherwise perfect masculine beauty.
Before you could speak, he swiftly grabbed his crimson cloak and draped it over your naked body, covering you completely with careful reverence. His gaze remained locked strictly on your face, never once drifting to your exposed skin.
“Are you okay, Your Highness?” he asked, voice rough with concern. A faint blush colored his cheeks as he noticed the way you were staring at his now-bare face.
You opened your mouth to speak, but no words came. The combination of the dangerous current, the shock of nearly drowning, and the overwhelming sight of your knight’s true face left you dizzy and speechless.
Your vision blurred. You passed out in his arms.
Sir Jungkook pulled you closer against his armored chest, one large hand gently brushed your wet hair away from your face, his touch surprisingly tender. He lifted you effortlessly, cradling you like a warrior carrying his lady, your head resting against his broad shoulder, body wrapped securely in his cloak, legs draped over his arm as he carried you back to his mare.
He mounted carefully, keeping you nestled safely against him as the horse began the journey back to the palace through secret paths.
You woke briefly as he laid you down on the thick rug before the hearth in your royal chambers. The fire was already roaring. You were still wrapped in his cloak, beneath it only a thin silk bandeau now clung to your body, the delicate material barely containing your breasts, pressing them together in a deep, soft cleavage that rose and fell with each shaky breath.
You trembled from the cold and the lingering shock of the river.
Sir Jeon Jungkook remained kneeling by the fire, his movements precise as he stoked the flames. Water dripped from his raven hair onto his armoured shoulders. Then he rose to his full, imposing height, towering, broad shouldered.
Without a word, he reached for his helmet, which rested upon a nearby oak chest, clearly intending to conceal his face once more.
“No,” you whispered, your voice soft yet commanding as you pushed yourself up on one elbow. “Do not put it back on.”
The knight paused, gloved hand hovering above the helm. His dark eyes met yours, intense and conflicted.
“Your Highness… it is not fitting for me to stand before you unveiled,” he said, his voice carrying the formal cadence of a sworn knight. “I must maintain the dignity of my position.”
You sat up fully, the cloak slipping slightly from one shoulder, revealing the smooth curve of your skin and the edge of the silk bandeau. Despite the cold still clinging to your bones, warmth bloomed low in your belly as you gazed upon his face, truly beheld it for the first time.
“Come closer,” You rose to your knees on the rug, the cloak parting further as you reached for him. “Let me see you properly.”
He hesitated, every line of his powerful frame taut with restraint. Yet he obeyed, lowering himself once more to kneel before you. Even on his knees, he remained nearly at your eye level, so tall and broad was he.
You lifted a delicate hand and brushed your fingers through his damp raven locks, pushing them back from his forehead. A contented sigh escaped your lips.
“You are far too pleasing to look upon, Sir Jungkook,” you whispered, almost in awe. “I had wondered what lay beneath that steel. Never did I imagine such a face.”
Sir Jungkook remained perfectly still on his knees before you. His hands rested tensely on his armoured thighs as he fought to keep his gaze fixed on your face and not the way your breasts strained against the thin silk bandeau.
“You flatter me, Your Highness,” he replied, voice low. “But I am your knight. Nothing more. Please allow me to restore my helmet.”
You shook your head slowly, refusing to let him hide again. Instead, you leaned closer, your fingers still buried in his damp raven hair.
A new, overwhelming wave of admiration and obsession washed over you. This man... this mature, hardened, breathtakingly handsome knight was kneeling before you like a devotee. The realization sent a fresh rush of heat between your thighs.
“You’re older than me, aren’t you?” you murmured softly, continuing to caress his hair with gentle strokes. “Hardened by battles and years I haven’t yet seen.”
You wondered how many more scars he carried beneath that heavy armor hidden across his broad chest, his strong back.
“I am twenty eight, Your Highness,” he answered quietly, his deep voice carrying that disciplined tone you were growing addicted to.
“Tell me something personal,” you said, your voice turning playful yet curious. Your fingers trailed from his hair down to trace his cheekbone once more. “Have you ever been with a woman, Sir Jeon? Truly been with one?”
His jaw tightened visibly. The question crossed every boundary a knight was sworn to respect.
“Your Highness… such questions are not appropriate for me to answer,” he replied. You leaned in even closer, still stroking his hair tenderly, your breath brushing against his skin.
“But I want to know,” you whispered. “Have you ever touched a woman the way a man touches a lover? Ever kissed one?”
Jungkook’s breathing grew slightly heavier. His dark eyes stayed locked on yours with iron discipline, though you could clearly see the storm brewing behind them.
“I have not, Your Highness,” he finally answered, voice low and honest. “My duty has always come first.”
A thrill ran through you at his confession. You let your fingers drift lower, brushing along his sharp jawline. “And if a woman wanted you… desperately?” your voice dropped to a near whisper. “If she wanted your mouth between her thighs… your tongue tasting her, would you deny her?”
The impure question hung heavy in the air between you. You shocked even yourself with how boldly it slipped out, but the vivid image, his devastatingly handsome face trapped between your legs, mouth glistening with your arousal made the heat bloom even more slick between your thighs.
Sir Jungkook’s hands clenched tighter on his armored thighs. A faint flush colored the tips of his ears and neck, but he remained on his knees.
“Your Highness,” he said, reverently, “I am sworn to protect you. Not to… indulge in such thoughts.”
You smiled softly. Then you leaned back on the bed, letting the crimson cloak fall open completely. The thin silk bandeau was the only thing left covering you, and even that felt too much now.
“Then I command you,” You looked down at him, this powerful knight on his knees before you, and felt a rush of pure need. “I want your mouth on me, Jungkook. Right now.”
“Your Highness, I—”
“Touch me,” you breathed, cutting him off. “Please, Jungkook…”
You reached down and grabbed his gloved hand, bringing it to your chest. Slowly, you pressed his large palm over the thin silk bandeau, letting him feel the soft, heavy weight of your breast. Your nipple was already painfully hard beneath the fabric.
Sir Jungkook’s breath hitched sharply. His entire body tensed, the muscles in his arm flexing under the armor as he fought against every instinct.
You didn’t stop there, dragging his hand lower, sliding it down your stomach until his fingers rested between your thighs. You were soaked. your petals slick and hot against his gloved fingers.
“Feel how damp you make me,” you whispered, voice shaking with need.
Sir Jungkook let out a low, strained groan. His dark eyes were fixed on your face, but you could see the violent war happening behind them.
The most beautiful woman he had ever laid eyes on — the princess, the future queen, was laid out before him in nothing but a flimsy silk bandeau, legs spread, pressing his hand against her dripping cunt.
“Your Highness…” he rasped, albeit desperate. “This is beyond forbidden. You are royalty. I am sworn—”
“I don’t care,” you whimpered, grinding slowly against his gloved fingers. “I need you. I’ve never felt this way before. Touch me now, my knight. Please.”
His hand trembled. For a long moment, he simply rested there, feeling your wetness soak through the leather of his glove. Then, with a broken exhale that sounded like surrender, his fingers moved.
He stroked along your soaked folds, parting the delicate petals of your most secret flower. And what a flower it was... a lush, glistening rosebud blooming only for him. Your outer lips were soft and swollen with need, flushed deep, delicate like the first blush of dawn.
As he gently spread you open, the inner petals revealed themselves: silky, and impossibly tender, layered like the finest rose in full bloom after a summer rain. At the center lay your sweetest nectar, dripping and honeyed, flowing abundantly from your aching entrance.
The knight didn’t know what came over him, but your pulsing heat and slick, puckering folds had him utterly entranced. His breathing grew ragged. You could see the way his throat worked, the way his tongue unconsciously darted out to wet his lips. He was drooling.
“May I lick you, Your Highness?” he asked hoarsely, voice thick with barely contained hunger. “Please… allow me to taste you.”
The desperate plea from such a disciplined man sent a fresh wave of arousal flooding through you.
“Yes,” you breathed, spreading your thighs wider for him, your voice trembling with raw need. “Use your mouth on me, Jungkook. Lick your princess until she cannot think.”
The moment the words left your lips, something in him broke. Sir Jungkook leaned in and dragged his hot, wet tongue slowly up your soaked slit. The first full taste of you pulled a deep, guttural groan from his chest. You were intoxicatingly sweet and dripping with arousal. He licked you again, slower this time, savoring every slick fold as if he were drinking the finest wine in the kingdom.
You cried out sharply, back arching off the bed as overwhelming pleasure flooded your body. The sensation was brand new, so intense it made your legs twitch violently.
“Oh... Jungkook!” you moaned, fingers digging into his raven hair.
The knight’s tongue circled your swollen clit before sucking it gently into his mouth, then plunged inside your tight heat, ravishing you with slow, deep strokes. The wet, filthy sounds of his mouth eagerly eating you echoed through the chamber, obscene, and shameless.
The most beautiful woman he had ever known, the future queen, was thrashing beneath him, legs shaking uncontrollably around his head, soft whimpers and loud moans spilling from her pretty lips.
Your hips rolled desperately against his face, coating his tongue, lips, and chin with your sweet release. Sir Jungkook drank every drop you gave him, groaning against your cunt as his own cock strained painfully against his armor.
He had never tasted anything so addictive.
You were already twitching, gasping, legs trembling so hard they threatened to close around his head. The pleasure was too much, too new, too overwhelming for your body.
Suddenly, Sir Jungkook pulled back slightly, his lips glistening with your juices. His dark eyes looked up at you, breathing ragged.
“Should I continue, Your Highness?” he asked hoarsely, voice thick with lust and devotion. “Tell me… do you want more?”
You could barely form words. Your body was shaking, pussy throbbing, dripping onto the mattress beneath you.
“Please don’t stop,” you whimpered desperately. “Keep licking me... please...”
The knight obeyed instantly. He buried his face back between your thighs and attacked your clit with relentless strokes of his tongue. Two thick fingers pushed inside you, curling perfectly against that sensitive spot while he sucked hard on your swollen pearl.
The pleasure hit you like a storm.
Your entire body seized up. A loud, broken scream tore from your throat as your orgasm crashed over you violently. Your thighs clamped around his head, hips bucking wildly against his mouth as you gushed on his tongue. Wave after wave of intense pleasure ripped through you, leaving you shaking uncontrollably, vision blurring at the edges.
You nearly passed out from the sheer intensity of it. body twitching, chest heaving, soft cries still falling from your lips as the pleasure refused to let go.
Sir Jungkook stayed between your thighs through every tremor, drinking down every last drop of your release like a man who had finally found salvation.
When your body finally went limp, trembling and oversensitive, he gently kissed your inner thigh before pulling back, his handsome face flushed and glistening with your arousal.
You could barely speak, still catching your breath as you stared at the sight of your proud, disciplined knight with your release shining on his lips.
—
“The Princess requires her knight’s escort to the eastern tower for stargazing.”
The message was innocent enough on paper. But the court had begun to notice how often you summoned Sir Jeon Jungkook for these private “duties.” Some whispered that the Princess trusted no one else. Others envied the knight who had earned such unwavering favor from the realm’s greatest beauty.
They had no idea what really happened once the tower door was bolted.
In the eastern tower under the stars, you would push Sir Jungkook against the cold stone wall and demand his mouth on you again. He always hesitated at first, “Your Highness, we mustn’t…” but the moment you looked at him with those wide, needy eyes and whispered “Please, Jungkook… I ache for you,” his resolve crumbled.
He would drop to his knees in full armor, push your skirts up to your waist, and bury his face between your thighs. The sounds he made while devouring you were filthy and desperately loud. wet slurps and deep groans as he drank every drop of your arousal. You quickly learned to muffle your loud moans against your own arm or his shoulder, thighs shaking violently around his head as he brought you to shattering orgasm after orgasm.
He never asked for anything in return at first. But one night, after he had made you come so hard you saw stars, you dropped to your knees in front of him, hands trembling as you freed his thick, aching cock from his breeches.
You had never seen the knight fully bare, but you had tasted him.
You took him into your mouth with clumsy but eager hunger, sucking and licking until he was groaning your name like a prayer, his gloved hand gently cradling the back of your head. When he spilled down your throat, you swallowed every drop, looking up at him with wide, adoring eyes.
The tension between you only grew hotter, more forbidden.
You began creating excuses just to be close to him.
You “accidentally” wandered into dangerous parts of the forest during hunts. You “lost” your way in the palace corridors at night. You deliberately teased foreign dignitaries until they grew too bold, all so Sir Jungkook would have to step in, pull you protectively against his armored chest, and hold you there while scolding you with his low voice.
Each time, you nestled your head against his chest plate, breathing in his scent, feeling safe in a way you had never felt with anyone else.
One quiet afternoon in the royal rose gardens, while the other knights kept their distance. The summer blooms were at their peak, rows upon rows of crimson roses spilling over marble trellises in a riot of color and fragrance. Courtiers often compared them to you. You had heard the comparison so many times throughout your life that it had long since lost all meaning.
Your attention was elsewhere when Sir Jungkook paused beside a rose bush heavy with crimson blooms. Reaching out, he selected a single flower and turned it thoughtfully between his fingers before approaching.
“A gift?” you asked.
“If Your Highness would accept it.”
The answer surprised a smile from you.
He stepped forward and tucked the rose behind your ear. His gloved fingers lingered only for a second before withdrawing, but even that brief touch seemed to affect him more than he wished to admit.
When you looked up, his gaze was fixed upon the flower. “Beautiful things are dangerous,” he said quietly.
You laughed. “I believe roses are dangerous for everyone except gardeners.”
His expression didn’t change.
“I wasn’t speaking about the rose.”
Your heart fluttered so violently you had to look away. it was becoming impossible to deny how deeply you were falling for him.
The kisses grew sloppier, more desperate with every stolen moment.
In the abandoned library, your knight would press you against the bookshelves, helmet removed, and kiss you like he was drowning, tongue sliding against yours, hands gripping your waist as if afraid you might vanish. You kissed him back just as hungrily, tugging at his hair, moaning softly into his mouth while your hand palmed the hard bulge in his breeches.
Your hunger for him was insatiable. You ached for his presence constantly. The court noticed how you lit up when he entered a room, how you instinctively moved closer to him during gatherings. They saw devotion, they saw trust.
They never saw the way you both held each other’s eyes like lovers who knew their time was stolen.
The relationship was utterly forbidden. Your father would banish him, or worse, if he ever discovered the truth. But neither of you could stop. Something real was blossoming between you.
The knight admired your wild, rebellious spirit. You admired his quiet strength and unwavering honor. In the darkness, you were no longer just princess and knight. You were becoming each other’s secret salvation. And it was only a matter of time before the tension finally snapped.
—
The Coronation.
The kingdom was in full celebration. Banners of the finest gold flew from every tower. The greatest event in decades had arrived, your coronation as Queen.
Princes from across the realms had come in droves, each more eager than the last to win your hand and the throne beside you. They brought lavish gifts, performed in grand tournaments, and showered you with compliments. The entire court watched with bated breath, waiting for you to choose.
You sat upon the raised dais in a breathtaking gown of white, looking every bit the ethereal queen-to-be. But your eyes kept drifting to the tall, armored figure standing silently behind your throne, Sir Jeon Jungkook.
He had become even more composed in public, yet you could feel the storm raging beneath his helmet. Especially when you decided to play your cruel little game.
Prince Min of Veina leaned close during the feast, whispering sweet nothings about your beauty. You laughed brightly, placing a hand on his arm, letting your fingers linger, leaning in just enough for your neckline to offer him a generous view of your breasts.
From the corner of your eye, you saw Sir Jungkook’s gloved hand tighten around the hilt of his sword until his knuckles turned white.
Another prince, a golden haired lord from the eastern isles, offered you a rose during the garden promenade. You accepted it with a coy smile, twirling it between your fingers while glancing toward your knight.
Sir Jungkook’s dark eyes burned behind the helmet. You could feel his jealousy like a living thing, hot and barely contained.
That night, after the feasting and dancing, you summoned him to the eastern tower under the usual pretense.
The moment the door closed, he was on you.
The knight pinned you against the cold stone wall. The single rose you’d been idly twirling between your fingers, a gift from one of the many princes, fell forgotten to the floor.
Sir Jungkook’s dark eyes burned with something almost feral.
“You will be wed off soon?” he growled dangerously, breath hot against your ear.
You looked up at him, heart racing. Your long, wavy hair had finally been let down after the long day, cascading over your shoulders and hips like dark silk. The tight corset of your white coronation gown was already loosened, the fabric slipping slightly off one shoulder, revealing the smooth curve of your skin.
“What do you think about Prince Min?” you asked sweetly, tilting your head. “I think he’s quite lovely. So charming. He even said he would worship me every night once we’re wed.”
Sir Jungkook’s jaw clenched so hard you heard it crack. The jealousy that had been simmering all day threatening to explode.
“Doesn’t it drive you mad, Sir Jeon?” You leaned in closer, letting your breasts brush against his armored chest. “Knowing your princess, the one you’ve been secretly devouring every night, is wanted by so many powerful men? That they all dream of putting a ring on my finger and taking me to their beds?”
“It is exquisite torture, Your Highness,” he growled, eyes burning. “Watching them look at you like they have any right to you. Knowing I’m the only one who’s ever tasted you, the only one who’s ever made you scream.”
His raw honesty sent a sharp thrill through you. You bit your lip, loving the way jealousy sharpened his features, making his dark eyes appear even more intense. He was possessive and barely holding himself back. And you wanted to push him further.
You stepped away from the wall with a teasing smile, walking over to the tall, gilded mirror that stood near the fireplace. The white gown still clung to your body, hair cascading in long, wild waves down your back. You picked up a silver brush and began slowly running it through it, watching him in the reflection.
Sir Jungkook followed you like a shadow, stopping just behind you. His tall, powerful frame loomed in the mirror, twice your size, radiating heat and restrained fury.
“Does that bother you, my knight?” A teasing smile played on your lips. “Knowing that soon I might have to let another man—”
You didn’t get to finish. Sir Jungkook’s large hand closed around your wrist, stopping the brush mid stroke. He plucked it from your fingers and set it down with a deliberate clack. His other hand gripped your hip, pulling your back flush against his armored chest.
Your breath hitched. The playful boldness you’d been wielding all night vanished in an instant.
“Enough,” he growled low against your ear, “You’ve teased me enough tonight, Your Highness.”
His dark eyes burned into yours through the mirror. The intensity there made your knees weak. This wasn’t the restrained, obedient knight anymore. This was a man who had finally reached his limit.
He reached around you and slowly began unlacing the rest of your corset. The white gown loosened further, slipping down your shoulders. You watched in the mirror as he tugged it lower, exposing your full breasts to the cool air and the warm firelight. Your nipples were hard, flushed, and sensitive.
Sir Jungkook’s hand cupped one breast possessively, squeezing it as his thumb brushed over the stiff peak. You gasped, arching into his touch.
“Look at yourself,” he ordered quietly, voice rough. “Look how beautiful you are. How perfect. And yet you let them think they could ever have this.”
He pinched your nipple, rolling it between his fingers until you whimpered. His other hand slid down, gathering the fabric of your gown and pulling it up to your waist, fully exposing your bare cunt in the mirror.
Your face bloomed bright red as you instinctively tried to close your legs, suddenly overwhelmed with shyness at the sight of yourself so lewdly displayed, flushed and completely bare in the golden firelight.
But Sir Jungkook wouldn’t allow it. His large hand gripped your thigh firmly, spreading you open again as he pressed his body harder against your back.
“Don’t hide,” His dark eyes met yours in the mirror, intense and commanding. “Look how filthy and wet you are for me.”
You shivered, unable to tear your eyes away from the reflection. The contrast was obscene, your ethereal white gown bunched around your waist, breasts exposed and heaving, legs spread wide while his armored body loomed behind you like a dark, possessive shadow.
Sir Jungkook’s hand returned between your thighs. Two thick fingers slid through your slick folds, parting them slowly so you could see everything in the mirror. You whimpered at the sight, embarrassed yet unbearably aroused.
“So beautiful,” he breathed as he circled your swollen clit with his fingertip. “This is what belongs to me. Not to any prince. Not to anyone else.”
He pushed two fingers inside you without warning, curling them deep. Your mouth fell open in a silent cry as he began ravishing you with slow, deliberate strokes that made wet, obscene sounds echo in the quiet tower.
You tried to close your legs again, overwhelmed, but he held them open with ease, his grip firm and unyielding.
“Watch,” he ordered softly, voice dark with lust. “Watch how easily I can make my princess fall apart.”
Your eyes stayed glued to the mirror as his fingers plunged in and out of your soaked cunt, his thumb rubbing tight circles on your clit. Your cheeks were flushed deep crimson, lips parted in shameless moans, breasts bouncing slightly with every thrust of his hand.
The pleasure built fast and merciless. Your legs started shaking, thighs trembling violently as you fought to stay upright.
Sir Jungkook’s fingers curled deeper, stroking that perfect spot inside you while his thumb pressed firm circles on your swollen clit.
You came hard with a broken cry, arousal gushing down his wrist and dripping onto the stone floor beneath you. Your head fell back against his armored shoulder, body convulsing as wave after wave of intense pleasure tore through right after.
The knight dragged his arousal coated fingers from your pulsing heat and brought them to his mouth, sucking them clean while his dark eyes stayed locked on yours in the mirror. The obscene sight made you whimper, legs pressing together instinctively. This time, he allowed it.
You pulled away from him shyly, legs unsteady as you walked toward the wide couch near the fireplace. You crossed your arms over your chest, trying to cover your bare breasts, suddenly overwhelmed with embarrassment.
Sir Jungkook approached you ever so slowly. His heart was pounding. you could see it in the rise and fall of his broad chest. The way your flushed cheeks and shy posture made you look so adorable only made his desire burn hotter.
He stopped in front of you, towering over your smaller frame. Without a word, he gently uncrossed your arms, exposing your breasts again. You tried to cover them once more, but he caught your wrists softly.
“You’re too beautiful to hide, my love.” he murmured, voice low.
He leaned down and took one sensitive nipple into his hot mouth, sucking gently at first, then harder. You gasped sharply, hands flying to his shoulders as overwhelming sensitivity shot through you.
“Jungkook... it’s too much...” you whimpered, lightly pushing at his shoulders, cheeks burning with shyness.
He pulled back just enough to look at you, eyes dark with lust and affection. “You’re so sensitive here,” he whispered, almost in awe. He flicked his tongue over your nipple again, watching your reaction closely. “So angelic when you tremble like this.”
He sucked harder, alternating between your breasts, licking and biting softly until you were a whimpering mess, pushing at him weakly while your body arched into his mouth.
You grew frustrated at the unfairness, nearly naked while he was still fully armored. With a small, determined huff, you pushed him back slightly and began tugging at the straps of his armor.
“It is not fair,” you muttered, cheeks still flushed. “You get to see all of me, but I still haven’t seen you.”
The knight let you undress him, helping you remove piece after piece until he stood completely bare before you for the first time.
Your breath caught.
He was magnificent. Broad shoulders, powerfully sculpted chest marked with old scars, some long and faded, others newer. A few dark tattoos adorned his left pectoral and ribs. His abdomen was ridged with muscle, leading down to narrow hips. His cock hung heavy between his legs, thick and already hard.
You stepped closer, running your hands over his bare chest, tracing every scar with reverent fingers, exploring the strong lines of his back, more scars mapping his battles. He stood perfectly still, letting you admire him, though his breathing had grown heavier.
“You are… so manly, my knight,” you breathed, barely coherent, as your hands returned to his chest, sliding down the hard ridges of his abdomen. “So big… so perfect.”
The room had grown hotter, heavier. The air between you felt charged with months of suppressed longing. Your breaths mingled as you stared into each other’s eyes... yours wide with awe and desire, his dark with barely restrained hunger.
Sir Jungkook’s control finally snapped. He lifted you and laid you down on the wide couch near the fireplace, pinning your exploring hands above your head with one large hand, holding them there firmly before his body hovered over yours, powerful and imposing, thick cock resting heavy against your inner thigh.
“Look at me,” he commanded, voice low and rough.
You did, heart hammering.
“Tell me what you want,” he demanded, eyes burning into yours.
You squirmed beneath him, aching and desperate. “Take me,” you pleaded, trembling. “Please, Jungkook… give it to me. I need you inside me.”
Sir Jungkook let out a low groan at your words. He positioned himself at your entrance, the thick head of his cock pressing against your soaked folds. He was big, almost intimidatingly so. You felt the stretch even before he pushed in.
“I don’t want to hurt you, Your Highness,” he whispered, voice strained with worry and barely contained lust. His dark eyes searched yours, torn between desire and restraint. “You’re so tight...”
You trembled beneath him, legs parted wide around his hips. “Please,” you begged softly, cupping his face. “Don’t hold back. I need you. All of you.”
The knight exhaled shakily and began to push inside.
The stretch was intense. You gasped sharply as the thick head of his cock breached you, slowly forcing your walls open. Inch by thick inch, he sank deeper, filling you in a way you had never experienced before. It burned sweetly, bordering on too much, making your nails dig into his shoulders.
“Ah... Jungkook…” you whimpered, tears pricking your eyes at the overwhelming fullness.
He paused halfway, breathing hard, jaw clenched tight. “Tell me if it’s too much,” he rasped, rough. “I’ll stop. I swear it.”
But you shook your head, wrapping your legs around his waist.
“Don’t stop,” you pleaded, voice breaking. “I need you deeper… please.”
With a low groan, he pushed the rest of the way in, burying himself to the hilt. The fullness was devastating. You felt so stretched, so completely claimed, that for a moment you could barely breathe.
Sir Jungkook stayed still, letting you adjust, pressing soft kisses to your tear stained cheeks.
“You’re taking me so well,” he murmured, voice filled with awe and lust. “Such a good girl for me.”
When the burn finally melted into aching pleasure, you rolled your hips experimentally.
“Move,” you whispered. “Please… ruin me.”
That was all it took.
Sir Jungkook’s control snapped completely. He pulled back and thrust into you hard, setting a deep, punishing rhythm. Jealousy and months of pent up desire fueled every powerful stroke. The wet, filthy sound of his thick cock slamming into your soaked cunt filled the tower, mixing with your loud, broken moans.
He was a knight sworn to protect the crown, now utterly ruining the very sovereign he had pledged his life to shield.
“Mine,” Sir Jungkook growled, biting down on your neck hard enough to leave a dark mark. “Not theirs. Never theirs.”
He ravished you relentlessly, claiming you, marking you. His mouth was everywhere: sucking bruises into your breasts, biting your collarbone, licking the tears from your cheeks. He pinned your wrists above your head again, hips snapping against yours with raw need.
You came hard the first time, screaming his name as your walls clenched violently around his thick length. But he didn’t stop. He took you through it, then flipped you onto your hands and knees, on the wide couch.
First, he worshipped.
The knight dropped to his knees behind you, his large hands spreading your cheeks reverently. He leaned in and pressed slow, open mouthed kisses along the curve of your royal backside, lingering presses of his lips that made your breath hitch. He kissed lower, then lower still, until his tongue dragged hot and wet over your soaked folds from behind.
“So beautiful,” he murmured against your skin, breath hot and heavy. “So divine. And yet I am going to ruin every sacred inch of you.”
Then the worship turned into ruin.
He rose, gripping your hips with white knuckled force, and thrust into you from behind in one deep, devastating stroke. You cried out sharply at the stretch, the thick length of his cock forcing your walls open, filling you so completely it stole your breath.
You sobbed in pleasure, fingers clawing at the cushions as he drove into you relentlessly. The power he exerted over you was intoxicating. this hardened warrior, dominating you utterly while still worshipping every tremble of your body.
“You belong to me,” he rasped, ruining you with slow, devastating strokes now. “Say it.”
“I’m yours,” you whimpered, voice breaking. “Only yours, Jungkook... ahh!”
By the third round, you were a sobbing, whimpering mess, tears streaming down your face from overwhelming pleasure, body covered in his marks, cunt swollen and dripping with your combined release.
He took you in every way he could: against the wall, bent over the couch, riding him as he sat on the edge of the seat, then finally on your back again with your legs over his shoulders as he drove impossibly deep.
All night long, the tower echoed with your moans, his deep groans, the obscene wet sounds of your bodies joining. He claimed you utterly and completely devoted.
When he finally came for the last time, buried deep inside you, he held you tight, spilling pulse after pulse of hot seed into your womb, filling you until you felt impossibly full, claimed from the inside out.
Sir Jeon Jungkook pressed his forehead to yours, his lips brushing against yours with every word.
“You command the entire kingdom, my lady,” he whispered reverently, “but here in this hidden place… you are mine to ruin.”
You could only tremble in his arms, utterly spent, legs wrapped around his waist, heart pounding wildly as the fire crackled beside you.
The weight of what you had just done, and what it meant for both of you settled uncomfortably in the air. But in that moment, wrapped in his powerful arms, marked and filled by your knight, nothing else in the kingdom mattered.
The days that followed were a delicate illusion of peace.
It was late morning when you found yourself in the secluded royal bathing pool fed by a gentle river, surrounded by floating lily pads and white blossoms that drifted lazily on the current. The water was warm, scented with rose and lavender oils poured in by your maids. Sunlight filtered through the overhanging willow branches, casting soft, dappled light across the surface.
You leaned back against the smooth stone edge, your long dark hair floating around you like ink in water. Your body still carried the secret marks of the previous night, faint bruises on your hips, love bites hidden beneath the waterline, and a persistent, delicious ache between your thighs that reminded you with every shift who had claimed you so thoroughly.
Your maids, Elara, Verra, and old, wise Selyse moved around you carefully. They had raised you since you were a babe, more mothers than servants. They knew you better than anyone.
Elara poured another stream of warm water over your shoulders, her sharp eyes catching the faint flush that still lingered on your cheeks.
“You are glowing again this morning, my lady,” she said lightly, a knowing smile tugging at her lips. “One might think the moon itself had kissed your skin.”
Verra, younger and bolder, laughed softly as she massaged oil into your scalp. “Or perhaps a certain tall, dark eyed knight has been keeping you… well attended.”
You felt your face heat, but you couldn’t stop the small, secret smile that curved your lips.
Selyse, the eldest, clicked her tongue but her eyes were soft with affection. “Hush, you two. Our princess has always been radiant. Though…” she tilted her head, studying you, “there is a new light in her eyes these days. And a certain weariness in her step that speaks of long nights.”
You bit your lip, sinking a little lower into the water as lily pads brushed against your skin.
“It is nothing,” you murmured, though the flush in your cheeks betrayed you.
“Nothing?” Vera teased, wading closer, her voice dropping conspiratorially.
“We have seen you grow from a wild little girl into this breathtaking woman. We know your heart. And we know it does not belong to any of those puffed up princes parading through the halls.”
You reached out, squeezing Elara’s hand, then Verra’s, your voice dropping to a shy, trembling whisper.
“It is true,” you confessed, cheeks burning hotter than the midday sun. “I have given myself to Sir Jeon. Body and heart. He is the only man I have ever wanted. The only one who has ever touched me.”
For a heartbeat, silence fell over the bathing pool. Then came the gasps.
Elara’s eyes widened, her hand flying to her mouth. Verra let out a delighted little squeak, nearly dropping the oil vial. Even old Selyse, usually so composed, looked momentarily stunned before her face broke into a warm, knowing smile.
“Oh, my sweet girl,” Elara breathed, scandalized, thrilled. “You wicked little thing! With your own knight? Right under the King’s nose?”
Verra giggled uncontrollably, splashing water playfully in your direction. “And here we thought you were simply fond of him! All those late night ‘stargazing’ trips… you minx! Was he gentle? Was he… big?”
“Verra!” Selyse scolded, though her eyes sparkled with amusement. She turned to you with motherly affection. “Though I must admit, we have suspected for some time. The way he looks at you when he thinks no one is watching… that man is utterly gone for you, my lady.”
You buried your face in your hands, mortified but unable to stop the shy, giddy smile spreading across your lips. Your gaze drifted across the river to where Sir Jeon Jungkook stood guard a respectful distance away, half hidden among the willow trees.
Even from here, you could feel the weight of his stare. He stood tall and imposing in his armor, but his dark eyes were fixed on you with a quiet, burning intensity that always made your stomach flutter.
You bit your lip, still flushed from both the warm water and the memory of his mouth, his hands, his body claiming you so thoroughly the night before.
“He is… everything,” you whispered dreamily, more to yourself than the maids. “Strong. Honorable. And when we are alone… he worships me like I am his entire world.”
Verra let out another delighted laugh. “As he should! Our princess deserves nothing less. Though if the King ever finds out…”
Selyse gently squeezed your shoulder, her voice softening with both love and concern.
“Then we will protect your secret as fiercely as we have protected you all these years,” she said. “You deserve to love who you love, my dear. Crown or no crown.”
You looked back at Sir Jungkook again. He hadn’t moved from his post among the willow trees, tall and steadfast in his armor, but your heart ached with a sharp mix of fear and wonder.
If The King ever discovered the truth, he would not spare your knight. Sir Jungkook would be banished, or worse. And you… you would be married off immediately to seal the wound.
The thought disturbed you deeply.
You turned back to the water, forcing a smile for your maids, but the warmth of the bath could no longer chase away the chill settling in your chest.
—
The rumors had begun to spread like fire through the palace corridors.
A lesser knight claimed he had seen “suspicious movement” near the eastern tower. One of the visiting princes mentioned, with a sly smile, that the Princess seemed unusually attached to her personal guard. Nothing concrete, nor proven. But the whispers were growing louder.
Your maids noticed your distraction immediately. During your morning dressing, Verra fastened the laces of your gown with unusually tight pulls, her voice urgent.
“My lady… you must be more careful,” she whispered. “Some of the king’s men have been asking questions about Sir Jeon. They say he spends too many nights away from the barracks. And one of Prince Min’s retainers swears he saw a tall figure slipping into your wing after midnight.”
Elara’s hands paused on your hair. “The knight is being cautious now. He avoids being seen with you as much. But you… you still look at him like he hung the moon. It is only a matter of time before the King hears something he cannot ignore.”
Selyse placed a gentle hand on your shoulder, her eyes full of love and worry. “You are playing with fire, sweet girl. And fire does not care how much you love it.”
Your heart clenched with fear. You hadn’t seen your knight alone in a week. He had been deliberately distant, protecting you both by keeping his distance. The absence gnawed at you like hunger.
That night, you sent for him under the pretense of needing extra security for a private walk in the inner courtyard.
The moment the hidden door to your chambers closed behind him, you were on him.
You pushed Sir Jungkook against the wall, frustration and fear pouring out of you in a desperate kiss. Your hands fisted in his tunic, tugging him closer.
“Where have you been?” you demanded between kisses, voice shaking. “I was scared. I thought something had happened to you. I thought my father had already—”
“I’m here,” he whispered against your lips, rough with emotion. He pulled you closer, arms wrapping around you. “I’m right here, my love.”
But then he pulled back slightly, forehead pressed to yours. His dark eyes were filled with pain.
“I cannot stay,” he said quietly. The words hit you like a blow. “Your father has ordered me to lead a company to the western borders. There have been reports of raiders. He says it is to prove my devotion to protecting the realm… and you. He also made it clear I can no longer linger so closely around you. The rumors are growing too loud.”
You stared at him, heart shattering.
“No,” you whispered, then louder, “No. You cannot leave me. Not now. Not after everything.”
Tears stung your eyes as the hurt poured out.
“After our first night, you pulled away. You kept your distance like I was poison. And now you’re leaving entirely? What if something happens to you out there? What if I lose you forever? I can’t take it, Jungkook. I won’t survive it.”
Your hands moved frantically, tugging at the straps of his armor with desperate, angry fingers.
“I don’t care about the king. I don’t care about the borders. I only care about you.”
Piece by piece, you stripped him. The armor fell to the floor with heavy clangs until he stood completely bare before you, broad chest, scarred skin, powerful frame looking every bit of the warrior he was. You shoved him back onto the bed and climbed on top of him, straddling his hips.
Sir Jungkook’s hands moved instinctively to the laces of your corset, trying to free you fully, but you slapped his hand away, tears already glistening in your eyes.
But the knight was patient. He sat up slowly, your legs still wrapped tightly around his waist, and gently cupped your face with both hands. His thumbs brushed away the tears on your cheeks with heartbreaking tenderness.
“My love,” he whispered, voice soothing, “Let me worship you. Let me take care of you tonight. Please.”
He leaned in and captured one of your sensitive breasts in his mouth, sucking slowly. His tongue swirled around your stiff nipple, drawing a shaky moan from you. He moved to the other, giving it the same devoted attention, sucking and licking until your back arched and fresh tears slipped down your cheeks, this time from overwhelming sensation and emotion.
Holding you close, then gently but firmly, Sir Jungkook leaned back, gripping your hips and guiding you upward. In one rapid motion, he pulled you over his face, settling you directly onto his waiting mouth. Your soaked folds pressed flush against his lips and tongue, your thighs framing his head as he looked up at you with pure hunger.
“Use me,” he growled against your dripping folds, the vibration sending sparks through your core. “Pleasure yourself on my tongue love. I want to drown in you.”
You hesitated for half a second, still shy and nervous, cheeks burning hot even as your body screamed for more. But the frantic ache between your legs won out. You lowered yourself more fully, your slick cunt sliding over his mouth, his nose buried against your clit. He groaned loudly, the sound muffled and obscene as he immediately speared his tongue deep inside you, licking and sucking at your juices like a man starved.
You started moving almost desperately, grinding down with frantic little rocks of your hips. Shyness still flickered in your chest, making you whimper and bite your lip, but the pleasure overrode everything. Your hands braced on the headboard as wet, filthy sounds filled the room, the slick slide of your cunt over his tongue, his eager slurping and moaning, the way he sucked your swollen clit between his lips and flicked it mercilessly.
“Oh gods...” you gasped. Your thighs trembled around his head as you grew bolder, grinding harder, smearing your arousal all over his face. He gripped your cheeks, spreading them, holding you down so you could use him exactly how you needed. His tongue ravished in and out of your dripping hole, then flattened to lap broad strokes from your entrance to your clit, devouring every drop.
But it wasn’t enough.
You lifted off his face with a wet pop, strings of your arousal connecting you to his glistening mouth. His eyes were dark, lips swollen and shiny with your juices. Before he could speak, you slid down his body impatiently.
You straddled his hips, wrapped your hand around his thick, throbbing cock, and sank down onto him in one frantic motion.
The stretch made you cry out, but you didn’t stop. You rode him hard, bouncing on his length with frantic, emotional need, your breasts bouncing heavily with every harsh drop of your hips.
“Don’t leave me,” you sobbed, riding him faster, tears falling onto his chest. “Please, Jungkook… I can’t lose you. Not after this. Not after you’ve ruined me for anyone else.”
He thrust up to meet you, matching your desperate rhythm, his strong hands gripping your hips to guide you deeper.
“I don’t want to go,” he rasped, voice breaking with the same pain. “But I must. Your father commands it. I have to prove my loyalty… so I can stay by your side.”
You leaned down, kissing him messily through your tears, riding him like you could keep him here forever if you just moved fast enough.
“Then stay inside me,” you begged, voice cracking. “Fill me up. So deep that a part of you stays with me even when you’re gone. I want to carry you with me when they try to take you away.”
Sir Jungkook groaned deeply. His hands tightened on your hips as he suddenly flipped you onto your back, pinning you beneath his powerful body.
He made love to you then, with deep, devastating strokes that reached the very core of you. His mouth never left your skin, sucking marks into your neck, whispering promises between every thrust.
“You are mine,” he breathed against your lips, hips rolling deeply. “I will come back to you. I will fill you again and again until you swell with our future.”
You wrapped your arms and legs around him, clinging desperately as another orgasm built inside you. When it finally crashed over you, you sobbed his name, walls pulsing tightly around his thick cock.
Sir Jungkook followed right after, burying himself as deep as possible with a low, guttural groan. He came hard, flooding your womb with thick, pulsing ropes of his seed, holding you so tightly it felt like he was trying to merge your souls together.
Even after, he stayed buried inside you, pressing soft kisses to your damp forehead, your cheeks, your trembling lips.
“I don’t want you to go,” you whispered, small and broken. “I love you too much.”
Sir Jungkook pressed a soft kiss to your temple, his arms never loosening. “I know, my love,” he murmured. “And that is why I must return to you. No matter what.”
The weeks following Sir Jungkook’s departure had stretched into an endless gray fog.
You moved through your royal duties like a ghost wearing a crown. You sat through council meetings with a straight spine and a hollow smile, listening to nobles bicker about alliances, trade routes while your mind wandered back to your knight’s strong arms. Every night since, your bed felt too large, too cold. You would press your face into the pillow he had once used and fight the ache in your chest.
You missed him with a desperation that bordered on madness.
This morning was no different. You had barely kept your breakfast down before the maids helped you into a heavy velvet gown the color of deep wine for yet another assembly with potential suitors. The princes and lords from neighboring kingdoms were growing impatient. Your coronation was only a month away, and the pressure to choose a consort was mounting like a noose around your throat.
By midday, the nausea returned with a vengeance. You barely made it through the formal greetings before excusing yourself to the private solar, hand pressed to your mouth.
Elara followed quickly with a basin. You retched violently into it, eyes watering.
“Your Highness…” she whispered, rubbing gentle circles on your back.
“I’m fine,” you rasped, waving her away. “Just… something I ate.”
But it wasn’t.
Later that evening, after the day’s obligations were finally over, Vera and Selyse insisted on the usual massage to ease the tension in your shoulders. They helped you out of your gown until you lay on the wide cushioned table in nothing but a thin silk shift.
The moment Selyse’s skilled hands moved over your breasts, the older maid froze.
Verra, who was working on your legs, also stilled.
“…Your Highness,” Selyse said carefully, “Your breasts… they are fuller. Tender, yes?”
Your breath hitched. You had noticed it days ago but had tried to ignore the swelling, the sensitivity. The way even the softest fabric sometimes made you wince.
Verra’s hands gently pressed against your lower belly, not quite a touch, more an assessment. “And the sickness every morning… the fatigue… the way you’ve been crying in your chambers…”
Your eyes filled with tears. You turned your face into your folded arms, shoulders shaking.
Selyse knelt beside the table, taking your hand gently. “My lady… are you with a child?”
You didn’t answer at first. Then a broken sob escaped you.
“I think so,” you whispered. “I… I don’t know for certain, but the timing…” Your voice cracked. “It would be his. Sir Jungkook’s.”
Both maids exchanged a heavy glance. This changed everything.
Verra spoke softly, “My lady... with your coronation approaching. The lords are already circling like vultures, pushing their sons at you. If this comes out before you choose a prince…”
“I know,” you said, voice muffled. Fresh tears slipped down your cheeks. “I know what it means. But I can’t… I can’t just marry one of them. Not when I’m carrying the child of the only man I’ve ever loved.”
You sat up slowly, clutching the silk shift to your chest, arms wrapped protectively around your still flat stomach.
“My dear knight...” you sniffled. “He is out there fighting gods-know-what, and I’m here pretending to be the perfect princess while my body betrays our secret.”
Selyse brushed a strand of hair from your face with motherly tenderness. “We can hide it a little longer, Highness. Looser gowns. Ginger tea for the sickness. But you must decide soon what path you will take. The child… it will not stay hidden forever.”
You nodded, but your heart was breaking all over again. The thought of choosing one of those cold, ambitious princes while carrying Sir Jungkook’s child made you feel ill all over again.
Selyse pressed a kiss to the top of your head, her voice firm with loyalty. “We pray he returns soon, my lady. And until then, we will guard you and this little one with our lives.”
—
The weeks blurred into months as winter settled over the kingdom like a heavy white shroud. Snow blanketed the towers and gardens, turning the world soft and silent, yet inside your chest, the storm only grew louder.
Sir Jeon Jungkook had not returned.
Your belly had swelled noticeably now, a gentle but undeniable curve that marked the life growing within you. With the help of Elara, Verra, and Selyse, you hid it beneath layers of loose, flowing gowns and heavy cloaks lined with fur.
The rich fabrics concealed the truth for now, but you could no longer ignore the way your body changed, the tender fullness of your breasts, the occasional flutter of movement beneath your skin, and the constant, bone deep exhaustion.
You had begun excusing yourself from the suitors’ assemblies more frequently, claiming headaches or matters of state. But the King, grew increasingly impatient.
In the grand throne room one frost laced afternoon, he fixed you with a stern gaze as snow fell outside the tall windows. “You cannot delay any longer, daughter,” he spoke, heavy with royal command. “Prince Min of Viena is a strong candidate. The coronation is weeks away. You must choose a consort soon. The realm needs stability.”
You bowed your head, hands clasped tightly over your hidden belly beneath the voluminous velvet. “Yes, Father,” you murmured, the lie tasting like ash. Inside, your heart screamed for the only man you wanted.
Every few days, with your maids’ help, you sent letters. Verra would sneak them to a trusted rider, sealed with your private wax. You poured your soul onto the parchment; how much you missed him, the way your body was changing, the secret you carried, your love that only deepened with every passing day. Yet no responses ever came. The silence gnawed at you, feeding nightmares of him lying wounded on some distant battlefield or worse.
The worry became unbearable.
One bitter winter morning, wrapped in a thick hooded cloak that concealed your swollen middle, you slipped away from the castle with only Elara and Selyse accompanying you. The three of you rode through the snow dusted forest to a modest stone cottage on the outskirts of the kingdom, the home where Sir Jungkook had grown up.
When the door opened, an older woman with kind eyes and streaks of silver in her dark hair stood before you. Sir Jungkook’s mother. She froze at the sight of the princess on her doorstep, her hand flying to her chest.
“Your Highness…?” she whispered, stunned. “Surely I do not deserve to be blessed with your presence at my humble door. Please, come inside before the cold takes you.”
She ushered you, Elara, and Selyse quickly into the warm cottage, the scent of pinewood and baking bread wrapping around you like an embrace. The fire crackled merrily in the hearth as she helped you remove your snow dusted cloak. Only when you were seated by the fire did her gaze drop to the unmistakable swell of your belly beneath the loose gown.
You took a steadying breath, your hands resting protectively over your rounded stomach.
“I carry his child,” you said softly, trembling with emotion. “Your son’s. Sir Jungkook’s. He does not know yet… he has not returned, and I… I needed to feel close to him somehow.”
Jungkook’s mother, Maera, stood completely still for a long moment, her eyes wide with shock. Then her hand flew to her mouth as tears welled up in her eyes.
“Oh… gods above,” she breathed, her voice cracking. “A grandchild…? From my Jungkook?” Fresh tears flowed freely as she dropped to her knees in front of you, taking your hands in hers with deep reverence. “My lady… my princess. You honor me beyond words. You honor my son. To think that you, a royal daughter, would carry his child… I am stunned. Truly stunned. And so deeply moved.”
She pressed her forehead to your knuckles, weeping quietly with pure joy and emotion. When she lifted her head again, her eyes shone with fierce affection.
“You are already family to me,” she whispered. “Come here, sweet child.” She rose and pulled you into a warm embrace, cradling you gently as if you were made of glass. “You must be so frightened, carrying this secret alone while he is away. But you are not alone anymore. Not while I draw breath.”
You felt safe in her arms, the weight on your heart easing just a little as winter wind howled softly outside the cottage walls.
After composing herself, Maera wiped her tears and fetched a small wooden chest from a shelf. She sat beside you, opening it with trembling hands.
“Look,” she said tenderly, pulling out several treasured items. She showed you a faded sketch of a chubby baby with dark, serious eyes —Sir Jungkook as an infant. Another portrait showed him as a sturdy little boy of four, holding a wooden sword with determination. There was even a lock of his soft baby hair tied with a ribbon.
“He was always so intense, even as a babe,” she said with a watery laugh. “Strong and quiet… but when he smiled, the whole world lit up. Just like I imagine your little one will.”
You traced the portraits with gentle fingers, tears slipping down your own cheeks. Seeing these glimpses of him as a child made your love for the knight swell even deeper. You could so clearly picture your baby with his eyes, his strength, his rare smile. The thought made your heart ache with both joy and longing.
Maera kept one hand over yours, cherishing you openly. “Thank you for coming to me,” she murmured. “For trusting me with this precious news. We will wait for him together, my daughter. And when he returns, he will be the happiest man alive.”
The two of you sat by the fire for a long while — his mother and the mother of his child, talking softly as snow continued to fall outside, bound by love for the same man.
The days after your visit to Maera’s cottage only deepened the ache in your soul. Winter grew harsher, and so did your impatience. Every morning you woke with your hands on your swelling belly, feeling the strong kicks of his child, and the longing became unbearable.
One evening in the royal chambers, you fell to your knees before the King, tears streaming down your face. “Father, please… I beg you. Bring Sir Jungkook back. I need him. I cannot do this without him.”
The King frowned, confused by your desperation. “Daughter, he is leading my forces on the border. The realm needs him there. Why this sudden insistence on one knight?”
You could not tell him the truth. “I just… need him,” you whispered brokenly. “Please.”
He did not relent. The pressure to choose a suitor only intensified.
And then the sickness took hold.
Your body ached constantly. deep soreness in your back, hips, and breasts that made every movement painful. The baby’s kicks, once a comfort, now left you breathless. You grew feverish and weak.
Elara, Verra, and Selyse rarely left your side, forcing herbal teas and bitter medicines down your throat while piling warm blankets over you. For nearly a week you were bedridden, barely able to leave your chambers, hidden away from the court under the excuse of a winter chill.
One cold, silent night, as snow tapped gently against the window panes, you drifted in and out of a fevered haze. The herbs made the world soft and blurry around the edges.
You thought it was a dream when the heavy door to your chambers opened with a quiet creak and a tall, familiar figure stepped inside, shedding his snow dusted cloak. The firelight caught on his sharp jawline and those intense dark eyes.
Strong arms slipped beneath you, lifting you carefully as he climbed into your grand bed. A warm, calloused hand gently cradled your swollen belly. You felt the press of soft, reverent lips against the curve of your stomach.
“My love…” The knight’s deep voice whispered against your skin, rough with emotion. “I’m here. I finally came back to you.”
“Jungkook…?” you murmured drowsily, eyelids heavy, unsure if this was real or another cruel dream born of longing and medicine.
“It’s me,” he breathed, pulling your body flush against his solid chest. He was real. warm, solid, smelling of snow, leather, and the faint scent of campfires. “I’ve been aching for you every single day. Your touch, your voice… it kept me alive out there.”
His large hand stroked slow, soothing circles over your rounded belly, feeling the baby shift and kick beneath his palm. He lowered his head, pressing his lips directly to the taut skin.
You let out a tired, broken sound. “You left me… You promised you’d come back sooner. Look at me… I’m so sore, so heavy with your child, and you weren’t here…”
Sir Jungkook chuckled softly, the sound warm against your skin, even as his eyes glistened with unshed tears. “I know, my princess. I deserve your scolding. I’m deeply sorry.” He kissed your belly again and again, soft open mouthed presses wherever he could reach. Then he trailed his lips higher, attaching his mouth gently to the swollen, aching curve of your breasts, sucking lightly and kissing away the soreness with such care that you whimpered in relief.
His hands never stopped moving, massaging the deep ache in your lower back, cupping and gently holding your heavy breasts to ease their weight, stroking your hips and thighs. He intertwined his fingers with yours, holding your hand tightly as if afraid you might vanish.
“You are unreal, my love.” he murmured, voice hoarse with awe as he looked at you. “Your glow… it’s deeper now. The way pregnancy has changed you… you’re beyond anything I could have imagined. You shine like starlight. Carrying our child has only made you more radiant, more mine.”
You clung to him weakly, drowsy but desperate for his touch. “The baby… it kicks so much. I don’t know if it’s a boy or a girl… but it feels like you. Strong and stubborn.”
Jungkook smiled against your temple, one hand still resting warmly over your belly. “This child is the product of our love. A piece of both of us. I already love them more than life.” He kissed you deeply, slowly, pouring months of aching into it. “Every battle, every cold night, I thought only of coming home to you like this… holding you, feeling our baby move, worshipping the body that’s creating our future.”
He continued kissing every place that ached... the sides of your breasts, the curve of your belly, the inside of your wrist, his mouth soft and devoted. You melted into him, the pain easing under his gentle care as he held you close.
“Stay…” you whispered tiredly, already slipping back into sleep.
“I’m here right now,” he promised, lips brushing your ear. “Sleep, my love. I’ve got you both.”
When morning light filtered through the heavy curtains, you woke slowly, body still aching but strangely comforted.
The bed beside you was cold. No warmth lingered. No cloak on the chair. No scent of him on the pillows. Only the faint memory of strong hands, whispered words to your belly, and soft kisses remained.
You touched your swollen stomach, feeling another firm kick, and tears filled your eyes.
Was it a dream? A fevered hallucination woven from medicine, longing, and love? Or had Sir Jungkook truly returned to you in the dead of night… only to disappear again before dawn?
The herbs and medicines your maids prepared worked their magic. The fever finally broke, the deep soreness in your body eased into a manageable ache, and the constant nausea faded. Though you were still tired, your strength slowly returned. Your belly continued to grow rounder and heavier, the baby’s kicks becoming more insistent and lively.
One quiet winter evening, when the moon hung full over the snow covered palace, your maids turned your chambers into a secret sanctuary.
Accompanied by Sir Jungkook’s mother, they had worked together in absolute secrecy. No one outside your trusted circle knew. They had decorated the large private solar adjacent to your bedroom with soft candlelight, evergreen boughs, and winter white roses. Warm furs and silk pillows were arranged in a luxurious nest near the hearth. Incense of myrrh filled the air, and a small table held gifts wrapped in fine cloth.
They helped you into a loose, flowing gown of the softest ivory silk that draped beautifully over your swollen belly, leaving your shoulders bare. When you stepped into the room, all four women bowed their heads in reverence.
Selyse took your hand and guided you to the center of the soft pillows. “Tonight we celebrate you, my lady. And the precious life you carry. No one else will know of this blessing. It is ours alone.”
They treated you with deep adoration, as though you were sacred.
Elara gently massaged your feet with warm scented oil while Maera brushed your hair until it shone. Verra offered you sweet honeyed fruits and warm spiced milk, foods meant to nourish both you and the baby. Selyse laid her hands lightly on your rounded belly and spoke soft blessings for a safe birth and a strong child.
Selyse, ever wise, placed a small crown of dried herbs and winter berries on your head. “You are the vessel of love and life,” she murmured. “Even in these uncertain times, you bloom. We honor you as our princess… and as the mother of Sir Jungkook’s heir.”
You felt tears prick your eyes as they presented their secret gifts: tiny embroidered blankets, a soft knitted cap in deep green, a small silver pendant shaped like a blooming rose, a symbol of motherhood.
Vera leaned her cheek against your belly for a moment, grinning when the baby kicked in response. “He or she is strong already. Just like their father.”
You placed both hands over your swollen stomach, feeling another firm flutter. The warmth of their love and the secret celebration soothed the constant ache of missing your knight.
“Thank you,” you whispered, “All of you. I don’t know what I would do without you.”
Elara kissed your temple. “We will keep you and this little one safe until Sir Jungkook returns. And he will return.”
The warmth of the secret celebration lingered on your skin as you returned to your chambers that night. The maids had just helped you out of the ivory silk gown when a royal messenger knocked urgently.
“The King demands your presence immediately, Your Highness. In his private study.”
You had no time to prepare. Still glowing from the love and blessings of your maids, you wrapped yourself in a heavy velvet robe that concealed your very swollen belly and followed the messenger.
The moment you entered the study, the atmosphere turned icy. Your father stood behind his desk, several of your letters spread before him.
“Daughter,” he spoke, controlled. “I have given you time to come to me yourself. I know you have been sending letters to the front lines. To Sir Jungkook, specifically.” He turned to face you, his expression stern but not yet furious. “I know of your… admiration for him. Speak truthfully now. What is this attachment?”
Your throat tightened. This was the moment. With your belly heavy with his child and your heart aching, you could no longer hide everything.
“Father…” you began, voice trembling as you stepped closer. “It is more than admiration. I love him. Sir Jungkook is the only man I want.” Your hands instinctively moved to cradle your stomach. “And I… I am carrying his child.”
Silence crashed over the room.
The King’s eyes widened, then narrowed sharply as his gaze dropped to the unmistakable swell beneath your gown. His face darkened with shock, then rage.
“You what?” he hissed. “A knight’s bastard? While I have been parading princes before you? While the entire realm waits for you to secure the throne with a proper alliance?”
“Father, please,” you begged, tears filling your eyes. “It is his. Our love is real. If you would only let him return, we could—”
The King’s face twisted with fury. “You dare speak such filth to me? A royal princess swollen with a common knight’s bastard?”
You rebelled, voice shaking but defiant. “It is not filth. It is love. I will not marry Prince Min. I will not let you use me as a pawn for alliances while I carry the man I love’s child.”
“Enough!” The King slammed his fist on the table, making you flinch. “I have been patient with your childish infatuation, but this is treason against your bloodline. You will do as you are told! Your fate is sealed. You will marry Prince Min before the month ends.”
Later that same night, before your maids could even calm you, you found your most trusted rider in the stables. With tears streaming down your face and snow falling around you, you whispered your final message: “Tell him… tell Sir Jungkook that I will wait for him. No matter how long it takes. My heart is his alone. I will wait.”
The rider bowed and galloped into the night. No response ever came.
The next weeks were a nightmare.
Prince Min visited often, his eyes raking over your body with open lust and infatuation. He complimented your “ethereal glow”, clearly aroused by your pregnant form, but his arrogance disgusted you. He spoke openly of claiming the throne through you, of bedding you the moment you were his. You hated him with every fiber of your being.
You fought your father harder than ever, refusing to attend meetings with Prince Min, screaming that you would rather die than marry him. But the King had reached his limit.
One brutal afternoon, he summoned you again and placed a bloodied cloak and a forged letter before you.
“Sir Jeon Jungkook is dead,” he said flatly. “He fell in battle two weeks ago. This is proof.”
The world shattered.
You collapsed to the floor, a guttural sob tearing from your throat. The baby inside you kicked as if sensing your pain. From that moment, you broke completely.
You refused to eat. You barely slept. You stopped speaking, even to Elara, Verra, and Selyse who begged you through tears to think of the child. You lay in bed for days, staring at nothing, your once radiant glow fading into pale exhaustion. Your maids feared for both your life and the baby’s.
Despite how numb you had become, when your maids gently suggested taking you to Maera’s quiet home on the edge of the forest, you agreed without protest. You were taken there in secret under the cover of night.
Maera, a strong but grieving woman with the same dark eyes as her son, took you in without question. She cared for you with quiet hands and even quieter words. You didn’t speak much to her either, but you accepted her care wholeheartedly. After all, she was mourning the loss of her son, and you were mourning the loss of your lover and the father of your child.
The King, despite his fury, still sent guards to watch over you from a distance. You were still royalty, still carrying what he believed might be his grandchild. But you could only think of the protection you once had... the strongest, safest pair of arms that had ever wrapped around you.
You mourned deeply. But you couldn’t be completely selfish with a baby on the way, restless and eager to come into the world.
The labor came on a stormy night.
The pains started suddenly and violently. Maera and your maids worked frantically around you as you screamed and cried, gripping the sheets until your knuckles turned white. The King himself had ridden out in secret when he heard you had gone into labor, standing outside the cottage with a face pale with rare fear.
He didn’t know how to comfort you. He only knew one thing, his daughter was calling for her knight in her delirium.
Even though he viewed the child as the product of a sinful affair, something in him softened at the sound of your broken sobs. He could not lose you.
Inside the cottage, you gave birth to a baby girl.
She was small, chubby, with a shock of raven hair and big, dark eyes that looked exactly like her father’s. The moment the midwife placed her on your chest, fresh tears streamed down your face.
“She looks like him…” you whispered, hoarse and broken. “My little love… she has his eyes.”
You held her close, sobbing softly as the pain and grief mixed with a fragile, overwhelming love. Even in your exhaustion, you couldn’t stop crying. You believed Sir Jungkook was dead. The thought that your daughter would never know her father tore you apart.
Maera wept beside you, gently stroking your hair. “She’s beautiful,” she whispered. “Just like her mother.”
Outside, the King stood in the rain, waiting.
When the door finally opened and the midwife stepped out, he demanded to know if you and the child were alive. Upon hearing they both were, something in his hardened heart shifted.
He turned to his captain without a word and gave the order.
“Send riders to the western borders at once. Bring Sir Jeon Jungkook back. Tell him… his princess has need of him.”
It would take time. The borders were far, and the roads were muddy from the storms. A week, perhaps a month.
In the quiet warmth of the cottage, you held your newborn daughter against your chest, wrapped in soft linen.
You rocked her gently as she fussed against your breast, nursing hungrily. Your maids and Maera moved around you, bringing broth, fresh cloths, and ever soft words. But you barely spoke. The grief had hollowed you out.
“I wish you could meet your father,” you whispered to the baby one quiet night, voice cracking. Tears slipped down your cheeks as she latched on again. “He would have held you so carefully. He would have loved you more than anything in this world. He would have protected us both…”
Maera sat beside you, her own eyes red from mourning. She placed a gentle hand on your shoulder. “He would have been so proud,” she said softly. “Of both of you.”
You could only nod, throat too tight to speak. The emptiness inside you felt endless. Every time the baby cried, every time she looked up at you with those familiar dark eyes, the pain returned like a fresh wound.
The King demanded your return to the palace, as you were still royalty, still bound to your father’s will despite carrying a child out of wedlock. He wrote letter after letter insisting you resume your duties and prepare for the inevitable marriage to Prince Min. You refused to answer most of them.
Your maids tried their best to comfort you, but even they could not reach the depths of your sorrow. The only light in your world was your daughter. Tiny, perfect, with Jungkook’s dark eyes and a tuft of raven hair. You held her constantly, whispering stories about her father, singing lullabies with a voice that often broke halfway through.
You mourned him deeply. The King had not even granted him a proper funeral. No rites. No chance to say goodbye. Just a bloodied cloak and a cold declaration.
One quiet evening, Maera left the cottage to fetch groceries from the nearby village. Your maids had been called back to the palace on the King’s orders, duties they could not refuse. For the first time in weeks, it was just you and your baby in the small, warm cottage.
You sat by the window, cradling her in your arms. She cooed softly, tiny fingers wrapping around yours as you gently rocked her. For a few precious minutes, you allowed yourself to smile a real, soft smile as you played with her little hands and kissed her forehead.
“My baby,” you whispered, “The loveliest babe. Don’t tell the queens and princesses, I think they’d be terribly jealous.”
The baby blinked up at you. “Oh, yes,” you continued solemnly. “Especially of those cheeks.”
You leaned back in the chair as exhaustion eventually won over you, your eyes growing heavy. With your daughter nestled safely against your chest, sleep claimed you quickly.
When you woke, the cottage was awfully quiet.
Your arms were empty.
Panic slammed into you like a physical blow. You shot upright, heart hammering wildly as you looked around the room.
The baby was gone.
“No… no, no, no...” you gasped, stumbling to your feet, voice rising into a broken sob. “Where is my baby?!”
You searched frantically, under the blankets, behind the chairs, near the hearth, terror clawing at your throat. Your mind spun with nightmarish possibilities. Had someone taken her? Had the King sent men to steal her away?
Then you saw him.
A tall figure standing near the doorway, cradling your daughter gently in his strong arms. She was sleeping peacefully against his chest, tiny fist curled into his tunic.
Your knees buckled.
It was Sir Jungkook.
He looked exhausted, travel worn, mud on his boots, shadows under his eyes, but he was alive. Real. His dark eyes met yours, filled with unbearable love and pain.
You stared at him, trembling violently, refusing to believe what you were seeing.
“No…” you whispered, shaking your head. “No, no, this isn’t real. You’re dead. They told me you were dead. This is another dream. You always come in my dreams and then you leave me again—”
Your voice cracked into a sob as you backed away, hands clutching your chest.
“You left me,” you cried, tears streaming down your face. “You left me and our child. I mourned you. I almost died mourning you. Please… don’t do this to me again. I can’t take another dream. I can’t wake up to find you gone again.”
Sir Jungkook’s face crumpled with anguish. He took one careful step forward, still cradling your daughter like the most precious thing in the world.
“My love,” he said hoarsely, voice breaking. “It’s not a dream. I’m here. I’m real. Your father… he lied. He sent me away to the borders to keep me from you. But I came back the moment he allowed it. I rode without stopping.”
You shook your head harder, tears falling faster, refusing to believe it even as your heart screamed at you to run to him.
“You’re dead,” you repeated, voice small and shattered. “You have to be dead… because if you’re not, then you let me believe it. You never answered my letters. Not one. I wrote to you every single day, pouring my heart out, begging you to come back to me, to our child… and you never...”
Fresh tears spilled down your cheeks as the pain twisted deeper.
“You were in on it, weren’t you?” you whispered, voice breaking. “You let my father tell me you were gone. You left me here to rot in grief while I carried your child alone. How could you?”
The knight’s face crumpled with agony. He took a step forward, but you flinched, and he stopped immediately, hands trembling at his sides.
Before he could speak, your daughter stirred in his arms. As if sensing the suffocating tension in the room, she let out a sharp, hungry cry, her little lips puckering, tiny fists waving.
You moved without thinking, reaching for her. Sir Jungkook gently handed her over, his hands lingering for a moment as if afraid to let go. You turned away from him, sitting on the edge of the bed and loosening your dress to feed her. The baby latched on eagerly, her cries softening into small, contented sounds.
The knight stood there, watching you in silence. He looked lost, this battle-hardened soldier, returned from war, now completely unsure how to comfort the woman he loved. He slowly lowered himself to his knees in the middle of the room, head bowed.
“I wrote to you,” he admitted hoarsely. “Every chance I had. Your father… he made sure none of my letters reached you. He wanted you to believe I was gone. I fought every day to come back to you. I almost died trying to get word to you.”
You didn’t look at him. You kept your eyes on your daughter, tears falling silently onto her soft hair.
“I mourned you like a widow,” you whispered, voice thick with pain. “I almost died. And now you’re here… acting like you didn’t abandon me when I needed you most.”
The words cut awfully deep. Sir Jungkook’s shoulders slumped, but he stayed on his knees, silent and respectful, giving you the space your wounded heart demanded.
Your daughter stirred in your arms, letting out a small, distressed whimper as if she could sense the storm raging between her parents. You rocked her gently, pressing a kiss to her soft raven hair.
“Shh, my sweet one,” you cooed softly, “Mama’s here. You’re safe.”
Sir Jungkook’s hands twitched at his sides, aching to reach out, to touch you, to hold both of you, but he remained still, jaw clenched tight. He was no longer in full armor, only a worn tunic and breeches, his appearance shambled from the long ride, fresh bruises blooming across his knuckles and jaw.
You turned away from him, focusing on the small tasks that had become your life in the cottage. The rain outside grew heavier, pounding against the roof like a relentless drum.
You moved about the space, stirring the pot of stew over the fire, folding fresh linens, anything to keep your hands busy and your mind from breaking completely.
Hours passed in heavy silence. When your daughter finally grew fussy again, you nursed her by the hearth until her little eyes fluttered shut. You laid her gently in the wooden cradle Maera had prepared, stroking her cheek one last time before covering her with a soft blanket.
Only then did you notice movement near the door.
Sir Jungkook was standing there, cloak in hand, quietly preparing to leave.
Something inside you fractured. You stepped toward him, voice cracking. “You’re leaving again?”
He turned slowly, eyes filled with torment. “I was only going to check the perimeter. The rain is heavy, and I… I didn’t want to burden you further.”
You stared at him, this warrior who had survived hell just to return to you, and the dam finally broke.
“Come here,” you whispered.
He obeyed without hesitation.
You led him to your bed and with trembling hands, you began removing his tunic, revealing the damage the war had left behind.
New bruises painted his ribs and shoulders in shades of purple and blue. Fresh scars, still healing, cut across his chest and abdomen. He looked harder, a man who had walked through fire and barely returned.
Your lips trembled, but you forced yourself to stay steady. You turned away briefly, gathering clean linen strips, salve, and a bowl of warm water. When you returned, the knight stood perfectly still, letting you see all of him, the bruises, the brutal evidence of everything he had endured just to return to you.
You began tending to him in silence, your hands gentle as you cleaned a particularly nasty cut along his side. But the more you looked, the more the dam inside you cracked.
“What have they done to you, Jungkook?” you whispered, voice breaking. Tears spilled down your cheeks as you carefully wrapped a bandage around his ribs. “You’re… you’re covered in pain. All of this… just to come back to me?”
He stood motionless, letting you care for him, but his dark eyes never left your face.
“I would go through it a thousand times more,” he said softly, “if it meant coming back to you and our daughter.”
You shook your head, fresh tears falling as you pressed a bandage over another wound. “Don’t say that. Don’t you dare say that. I can’t bear thinking of you suffering like this. I thought you were dead. I thought I would never see you again, and now you’re here… broken because of me.”
Sir Jungkook slowly lowered himself to his knees in front of you, even though you were still trying to tend to him. The powerful knight, the man who had survived war, knelt before you like the loyal protector he had always been.
“Your Highness,” he murmured, head slightly bowed, voice thick with emotion. “I failed you. I wasn’t here when you needed me most. I wasn’t here when you carried our child. I wasn’t here when you gave birth. I wasn’t here when they told you I was gone. Forgive me.”
You dropped the bandages and pulled him into your arms, holding his head to your chest. His arms wrapped around your waist instantly, clinging to you like a man who had almost lost everything.
A broken sob tore from his throat.
Your knight, your warrior, the strongest person you had ever known, cried against your chest like a child. Deep, shuddering sobs that shook his powerful frame as his arms tightened around you.
“I thought I lost you,” he choked out, voice muffled against your skin. “Every night on the border, I prayed I would make it back to you. To both of you.”
You held him tighter, fingers threading through his raven hair, your own tears falling onto his head.
“You’re here now,” you whispered, rocking him gently. “You’re here. You came back to us. That’s all that matters.”
For a long time, the only sounds in the cottage were the rain outside, the crackling fire, and the quiet, heartbroken sobs of a knight who had finally returned to his princess.
—
The rain had not eased by the middle of the night. It hammered against the thatched roof like an impatient army. You had fallen asleep in Jungkook’s arms on the narrow bed, your daughter nestled safely in her cradle beside you. For the first time in months, your sleep was deep and dreamless.
A sharp knock on the cottage door shattered the peace.
Sir Jungkook was awake in an instant. He slipped from the bed silently, pulling on his tunic and reaching for the sword he had left by the door. His body was still tense from war, every muscle ready for threat.
“Stay here,” he whispered, pressing a quick kiss to your forehead. “I will see who it is.”
But you already knew.
A cold certainty settled in your chest. You rose, wrapping a shawl around your shoulders, and followed him despite his warning. Your daughter stirred but remained asleep.
Sir Jungkook opened the door, sword half drawn, rain pouring behind the figure standing outside.
It was the King.
Your father stood in the downpour, cloak heavy with water, face pale and drawn. Guards waited at a respectful distance, torches flickering weakly in the storm. His eyes moved past your knight and landed on you.
For a long moment, no one spoke.
Then the King stepped inside without invitation, water dripping onto the wooden floor. His gaze softened when it fell on you — his only daughter, still pale from childbirth, carrying the weight of grief and motherhood.
“My child,” he said, voice rough. “You must return to the palace. You are still royalty. Still my blood. You do not belong in a cottage like this.”
You stood straighter, even as exhaustion and lingering pain made your body ache.
“I belong where I choose,” you replied quietly, but firmly. “And I will not return without Sir Jeon. He is my knight. He is the father of my daughter. He stays with me.”
The King’s jaw tightened. He glanced at Jungkook, who stood tall and silent beside you, sword now lowered but ready.
“I know what you are to each other,” the King said heavily. “I have known for some time. Prince Min is a fool and a coward, but his bloodline is strong. The alliance—”
“I will not marry him,” you cut in, voice steady despite the tears gathering in your eyes. “I will return to the palace. I will perform my duties as princess, as future queen. I will be the ruler this kingdom needs. But only if Sir Jungkook remains at my side. As my knight. As the man I have chosen. As the only man with any right to me.”
The King looked at you for a long time. He saw the woman you had become, not just his rebellious daughter, but a figure of quiet strength. The people in the surrounding villages spoke of you with reverence. They told stories of the princess who helped common women, shared food during hard winters, who listened to their troubles as if they mattered as much as any noble’s.
The King exhaled slowly, defeated but not broken.
“Very well,” he said at last. “Sir Jeon will return with you. He will remain your personal knight. But this… affair… must remain hidden from the court. For now.”
You nodded once, relief flooding through you.
The King’s gaze drifted to the cradle where your daughter slept. He had not yet seen her. You had kept her away from him, protecting her with every fiber of your being.
He took one hesitant step toward the cradle, then stopped, as if afraid.
The King’s shoulders sagged. For the first time in years, he looked truly old.
“Bring her home,” he said quietly. “Both of you. We will find a way.”
When the heavy door of the cottage finally closed behind your father, you let out a huge, shaky sigh. The weight of the conversation pressed on your chest like a stone. You turned and walked to the cradle, gently lifting your daughter into your arms. She stirred but settled quickly against your chest.
Sir Jungkook followed silently behind you, his presence warm.
“I would not trust him,” you whispered, voice laced with bitterness. “My father lied. He did all of this, told me you were dead, kept us apart, made me believe I had lost you forever. How can I believe a single word he says now?”
Jungkook stepped closer. He gently wrapped his arms around you from behind, resting his chin on the top of your head as you held your daughter.
“Petal,” he murmured softly, the old endearment slipping out like a balm. “Your father is a hard man, but he is not as cold as he pretends to be. He sent for me the moment he learned you had gone into labor. He could have kept me away forever. But he didn’t.”
You turned slightly in his arms, eyes wide with disbelief.
The knight continued, low and calm.
“There was one night… when you were still heavy with our child and very sick. I rode through a storm to reach you. Your father allowed it. He let me see you. I held you while you slept, fevered and restless. I whispered to you. I kissed your forehead and promised I would return. But I had to leave before dawn. He made me swear not to wake you. He said it would only make the pain worse when I had to go back to the borders.”
You stared at him, stunned. Tears welled up again.
“That night… it was real?” you whispered. “I thought it was a dream. I thought I imagined your arms around me.”
“It was real,” he said gently, pressing a kiss to your temple. “I was there. And I have regretted leaving you every single day since.”
You turned fully toward him, still cradling your daughter. The baby had woken and was fussing softly. You loosened your dress and began to feed her.
Sir Jungkook watched the two of you with such open love and longing that it made your chest ache.
“She has your eyes,” you said softly, brushing a finger over your daughter’s cheek. “So dark and beautiful. Just like yours.”
Sir Jungkook’s expression softened further. He reached out, gently stroking the baby’s tiny hand.
“And she is as beautiful as her mother,” he murmured. “I hope she grows to be as strong as her. As kind. As full of fire and love.”
For a while, the only sounds were the soft suckling of your daughter and the rain pattering against the roof. Sir Jungkook stayed close, one arm around your waist, the other lightly resting near the baby.
Eventually, after your daughter had fallen asleep again, you made the decision.
“We will return to the palace,” you said quietly. “Together. As a family. I will not hide anymore.”
The next morning, after tender farewells to Maera, who hugged you both tightly and kissed her granddaughter’s forehead with tears in her eyes, you left the cottage.
—
Three Months Later,
The palace had transformed around you.
After your return, the finest healers in the realm were summoned, learned men and women versed in herbs and ancient remedies. They tended to you with the utmost care, restoring the strength you had lost in grief and childbirth. Slowly, the hollow exhaustion faded. Color returned to your cheeks. Your body healed, and with it, your spirit bloomed once more.
You were treated not merely as royalty, but as something sacred. The people whispered that the Princess had returned more radiant than before, as if the earth itself had blessed her.
Your maids, Elara, Verra, and Selyse, were beyond ecstatic to have you back. They fussed over you constantly, brushing your long hair until it shone, dressing you in the finest silks, and whispering prayers of gratitude for your safe return.
The kingdom now knew the truth: the child was Sir Jeon Jungkook’s. The scandal had spread like wildfire, but instead of outrage, most of the people embraced it. They saw their princess glowing, and fiercely protected.
Prince Min had tried to slander you upon his return, calling you impure, unfit, a disgrace for bearing a knight’s child out of wedlock. Sir Jungkook had nearly killed him in the great hall before the King’s guards pulled him back. Prince Min was expelled from the kingdom that very day, the alliance shattered. No one mourned his departure.
It was a warm evening when you returned to the royal bathing pool, surrounded by floating lily pads and fragrant white blossoms. The water shimmered under the sunlight as your maids helped you undress. Your daughter, now three months old and full of life, babbled happily in Elara’s arms, reaching for you with chubby little hands.
“Come here, my sweet,” you cooed, taking her into the warm water with you. She immediately nestled against your bare chest, tiny fingers grasping at your long, wavy hair as you gently rocked her. She was a needy little thing, always wanting her mother’s warmth, her scent, her voice.
Verra smiled as she poured scented oil over your shoulders. “She adores you, my lady. Look at those big, bejeweled eyes.”
You glanced toward the far bank where Sir Jeon Jungkook stood guard, as always. He was no longer forced to hide. He remained your personal knight, ever watchful and devoted. His gaze met yours across the water, soft with love and quiet pride. He had become even more protective since your return, rarely leaving your side unless duty demanded it.
The King had grown strangely silent on the matter of your relationship. Seeing you flourish and beloved by the people, had turned him into something of a coward when it came to opposing you.
He doted on his granddaughter in private, though he still struggled to fully accept the circumstances. Yet he no longer pushed for any other marriage. He had seen what happened when he tried to separate you from your knight.
Bit by bit, your beauty had deepened into something almost otherworldly, skin luminous, eyes bright with life, a gentle fullness to your figure from motherhood that only made you more captivating. You moved through the palace performing your duties with grace while still finding time to help the common women who came to the gates seeking aid. You had become more than a princess.
At night, when the palace slept, Sir Jungkook was yours completely.
He would slip into your chambers, shed his armor, and worship you with slow hands and mouth. He made love to you like a man who had walked through hell and returned only for this. You clung to him every night, whispering how much you loved him, how you had chosen him long before the crown ever mattered.
Your daughter babbled softly, pulling at your long hair again with her tiny fist, drawing a soft, delighted laugh from you.
“Oh, my little one,” you cooed, gently untangling her fingers from your waves before pressing a kiss to her chubby cheek. “You are going to pull Mama’s hair right off if you keep that up, aren’t you? Such a strong little flower.”
She giggled in your arms, reaching up to pat your face with her small, uncoordinated hand, her big dark eyes, exact replicas of her father’s, sparkling with pure joy. The resemblance was almost startling even at such a young age. She was the most beautiful thing you had ever seen.
Elara sighed dreamily as she poured warm water over your shoulders. “Look at her, my lady. She is perfection. She already has the whole palace wrapped around her tiny finger.”
Verra nodded, gently massaging oil into your hair. “And you, my princess. You glow like the sun itself these days. Motherhood suits you more than any crown ever could.”
Selyse, ever the wise one, glanced toward the bank where Sir Jeon Jungkook stood guard, fully armored but with his helmet removed today. A small, teasing smile tugged at her lips.
“And that one over there… he can’t take his eyes off the two of you. Look at him, standing there like a lovesick fool in steel. Our fierce knight, brought to his knees by a baby and her mother.”
The knight’s ears turned faintly red, but he didn’t deny it. His gaze remained soft, locked on you and your daughter with quiet awe and devotion.
Later that evening, in the royal rose gardens where he had once walked beside you as your new knight, Sir Jungkook carried your daughter in his arms.
He was still in full armor, crimson cloak draped over his broad shoulders, but he held her with such careful gentleness it made your heart melt. The baby was dressed in the softest cream colored gown embroidered with tiny golden flowers, a little bonnet tied under her chin. She looked like a living doll against his armored chest.
She reached up with both hands, grabbing at the edge of his armor, babbling excitedly as she tried to pull herself closer to his face. When he leaned down, she patted his cheek with a wet, sloppy kiss.
Sir Jungkook’s entire expression softened into something almost boyish. He smiled, genuine and devastatingly handsome.
“My little love,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to the top of her head.
You walked beside them, heart full as you watched your daughter play with the buckles on his armor. Every time he lowered his head to let her see his face, she lit up. But when he playfully put his helmet back on for a moment to tease her, she immediately fussed, letting out a small, indignant cry and reaching for him with both arms.
“No helmet,” you laughed softly. “She hates it. She wants to see her father’s face.”
Sir Jungkook removed it immediately, tucking it under one arm while cradling her with the other. He leaned down so she could press her tiny palms against his cheeks and give him another sloppy kiss on the jaw.
The maids watching from a distance cooed and teased him lightly.
“Look at that,” Verra whispered loudly enough for him to hear. “Who would have thought the man who survived the western borders would be brought down by tiny hands and gummy smiles?”
Later that night, the heavy oak door to your royal chambers was barred, only the soft glow of candles and the low fire in the hearth illuminated the room.
You stood before the tall mirror, slowly changing into your nightgown. The fabric whispered against your skin as it slid down your body. Your gaze caught on the beautiful ring on your finger, the one Sir Jungkook had slipped onto your hand in secret weeks ago, a quiet promise between the two of you. You turned it gently, a small, private smile touching your lips.
Your daughter lay nestled against your bare chest, warm and content, her tiny fingers curled around the edge of your loosened gown. She babbled softly, her big dark eyes full of adoration for her mother.
Sir Jungkook stood a few steps behind you, fully armored except for his helmet, watching the two of you with quiet awe. The firelight danced across his face, highlighting every healed scar and the lingering shadows of war that still clung to him.
You gently laid your daughter in her ornate cradle, pressing one last kiss to her forehead as she drifted into sleep. Then you returned to the mirror, picking up the silver brush to run it through your long, wavy hair.
Sir Jungkook followed without a word. He stopped behind you, his large hands resting lightly on your waist. Slowly, he leaned down and began pressing soft kisses along your bare arms, from shoulder to wrist, as you continued brushing your hair.
You giggled softly, cheeks flushing with that familiar shyness even after all this time.
“Jungkook…” you murmured, breathy. “You ought to distract me.”
“Good,” he whispered against your skin, kissing the curve of your shoulder. “I have missed you all day. I need my darling.”
He dropped to his knees behind you with a quiet clink of armor, bowing his head in his familiar, devoted way. You turned to face him, running your fingers through his raven hair, then tracing the sharp line of his jaw and the faint scars that remained on his face.
You saddened for a moment, remembering the brutality he had endured.
But he looked up at you with such pure worship that it took your breath away. To him, you were more than a princess. you were his salvation, the very source of life that had healed him.
You pulled him closer, and he rose, lifting you effortlessly into his arms and carrying you to the grand bed.
The knight laid you down gently, then began to worship you with slow, reverent hands. He unlaced your nightgown with painstaking care, peeling the silk away until you were bare before him. His mouth found your breasts immediately, sucking softly on one sensitive nipple, then the other, drinking the sweet milk that flowed for him with deep, grateful groans.
You moaned softly, fingers threading through his hair as he fed from you, his tongue swirling, lips sealed tight around your peak. He drank like a man who had been starving for you, savoring every drop as if it were the very essence of life itself.
Sir Jungkook groaned deeply against your breast, the sound vibrating through your chest as he drank almost desperately. His large hand cradled the soft weight of your breast, squeezing gently to draw more from you while his other hand stroked your side with reverent tenderness.
“So sweet,” he whispered against your skin, voice hoarse and worshipful. “You give me life, my petal. You heal what war tried to break.”
You whimpered, arching into his mouth, overwhelmed by the intimate, sacred act, fresh heat blooming between your thighs.
When he finally released your nipple with a wet pop, his lips glistening, he looked up at you with dark, adoring eyes.
“You are my salvation,” he murmured, kissing the valley between your breasts before moving lower. “The mother of my child. The light that brought me home.”
When he finally moved lower, he spread your thighs with firm hands and settled between them. He looked up at you once, eyes dark with devotion, before lowering his mouth to your core.
He worshipped your flower, seeking nectar with slow, deep licks that made your back arch, followed by gentle suction on your swollen clit. His tongue delved inside you, tasting every inch, groaning at your sweetness as if it were the most sacred thing he had ever known.
You whimpered and moaned, hips rolling against his handsome face as pleasure built in waves. He was relentless yet tender, bringing you to the edge again and again before letting you tip over.
When you finally begged for him, voice trembling with need, Sir Jungkook rose above you like a knight before his altar.
He did not rush. Instead, he sat back on his heels, dark eyes drinking in every inch of your bare, flushed body with such raw hunger that it made your skin burn. You felt vulnerable and impossibly desired under that gaze. A shy, breathless giggle escaped your lips as heat flooded your cheeks.
Sir Jungkook reached out with one large, calloused hand and traced a single finger slowly down your body, from the delicate line of your throat, between your heaving breasts, over the soft curve of your belly, and down to the sensitive skin of your inner thigh. The touch ever so feather light, yet it left fire in its wake.
“You are a goddess made flesh,” he whispered, voice hoarse with awe. “And I am but a mortal who has been granted the honor of kneeling at your feet.”
He leaned down and pressed his forehead to your thigh in a gesture of pure worship, eyes closed, breath warm against your skin as if he were praying to the only deity he had ever believed in.
Then he moved over you, settling between your spread thighs. His thick cock pressed against your entrance, hot and heavy. He looked into your eyes as he slowly pushed inside, inch by thick, stretching inch, filling you so completely that your mouth fell open in a silent cry.
You dug your nails into his back as he began to move, first slow and loving, then harder, deeper, claiming you with every thrust.
“I love you,” he groaned against your neck, hips snapping forward. “I love you more than life itself.”
When you came, it was with his name on your lips and tears of overwhelming pleasure in your eyes. Jungkook followed moments later, burying himself deep and spilling inside you with a low, broken groan, filling you with pulse after pulse of his release.
In the quiet that followed, with the knight’s arms still wrapped around you and the weight of the world momentarily forgotten, it was strangely easy to remember the day he had first knelt before the throne.
The impenetrable knight clad in steel, sworn to protect a princess draped in silk. and protect you he would, as though it had been carved into the marrow of every breath he would draw, for eternity.
editing thid in a few hours. thankyou so much for reading!! comments and reblogs are very much appreciated mwah love you all 🫶💋
he wants this ~friends~ dynamic with us so badly that he even created an entire imaginary conversation to illustrate it LAKSLAKSALS 🥹 but everytime he tries to build some kind of human connection with us, there are always a few disgusting lunatics who ruin it for everyone
I love the next chapter, and it's almost done, so I will grant you a tiny snippet bc i love u all
Towering Heights 사: 4 — baby snippet
⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘
“What would Taehyung think of his precious toy, riding my fucking hips like she’s never been touched in her life?”
“Fuck you,” you breathed. You were unable to think about any repercussions with how well he was guiding your hips along his hard-on. Jungkook chuckled and gave you a little smack on the bum.
You bucked your hips hard at the sensation, the increased friction sending a shock through Jungkook’s body, and his head fell forward, eyes heavy and mouth open.
“You could make me cum just by doing that,” he groaned, his hungry eyes watching you grind on him like you were his very own show.
The sight of Jungkook underneath you, falling apart and so horny for you, when he was typically so tall, intense and scary, sent a spark to your core. His eyes were wide, pouty like a puppy, any toughness in his appearance dissolving as he succumbed to your dry humping.
“Taehyung’s going to fucking kill me,” he muttered between heavy breaths, his eyes fluttering shut. He let out a higher-pitched, boyish whine at a particularly sharp roll of your hips.
You were staring at him, watching him intently as he crumbled further under your spell. Taehyung was always more composed, in control. Even when he was fucking you the way that he wanted, he commanded you effortlessly, turning you into his little servant every single time.
Jungkook was different. He was younger, closer to your age, a little more careless. His facade slipped away easily at your touch, like he had been pent up for a long time. Beneath his tough demeanour, his reactions were a little more desperate. Unlike Taehyung, his dongsaeng was easier to crack. A fire suddenly ignited in your stomach as you realized that you had more control over Jungkook than his elder.
In this moment, you were determined to do whatever it took to make the man beneath you cry.
⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘
mwah mwah mwah please be patient i promise it will be worth the (short) wait ˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗
summary: When you and your boyfriend breakup, Taehyung doesn’t waste a second to try get a date with you. In his bed, of course. But all his sugar-talking doesn’t seem to really work… until one blurry party night where you two end up together in a dirty bathroom.
genre/warning: porn with a lil plot. pure smut. / cursing, dirty talk (a lot), a little degradation, fingering, oral sex (fem receiving), penetration, rough sex, unprotected sex, cum eating (dirty as hell), creampie, overstimulation, lowkey yandere wth — i went all in i’m so sorry (im not)
author’s note: probably my nastiest writing ever. so get ur panties ready hoes
word count: +8k words
Taehyung noticed you before even finishing his first drink.
It wasn’t dramatic, no slow motion, no music cutting out, but it still hit him low in the stomach, sharp and inconvenient. You were in the middle of the living room, moving like you belong there, like the crowd bent around you without you trying. Your hair was sticking to your neck from the heat, your smile careless, loose, the kind that said you were not thinking too hard about anything.
Definitely not about him, especially.
Taehyung told himself he was just surprised. He’d heard, obviously. Everyone had. You and your boyfriend were done. A clean break, no details, just enough information to make it real. Still, seeing you there, dancing like nothing had cracked open in your life… it did something ugly to his thoughts. Something eager.
He was watching you for too long. He knew he did, knew it was wrong in about six different ways— same friend group, bad timing, worse intentions. You’ve never given him the time of day. Not really. Polite smiles, quick hellos, conversations that died before they even warmed up— it was never meant to work. He’d flirted before, light, joking, half-serious… and you’d always slid right past it, like you didn’t even notice or care.
Which was almost worse than rejection.
But Taehyung kept finding you anyway. In every room, every corner. His eyes tracked you without permission. You laughed with someone else and he wondered who got to hear that laugh up close now. You swayed to the music and he thought about how your ex must’ve had it easy, must’ve taken things for granted. He hated that thought, hated how personal it felt.
He hated how you wouldn’t look at his way. Hated how he knew that night it would be the same as always, you wouldn’t care about him and his poor attempts of flirting.
That’s why Taehyung hated how all night you didn’t look at him, not even once.
Same old story.
By the time the night blurred at the edges— too loud, too warm, too many bodies pressed together— he was convincing himself of two things: that whatever he was thinking was a terrible idea, and that he was already in too deep to stop thinking about it.
Ten minutes too many he found you again.
When he found you again, you were dancing with a man he didn’t recognize. Tall, broad shoulders, hands moving just a little too close to your ass. The music was loud enough to rattled the windows, bass heavy, filthy, and you moved like you knew exactly what you were doing. Not trying to impress, not trying at all.
That was what made it unbearable for him.
You rolled your shoulders, laugh when the guy leaned in to say something stupid in your ear. Your body followed the beat effortlessly, like it belonged there, like it had been waiting all night to be seen. Taehyung felt something hot and sharp crawl up his spine, watching the man’s hands, watching where they didn’t touch. He wondered if you’d let him do better, wondered if you’d notice the difference.
He knew he could be better, so much better.
Stronger grip, slower movements, he wouldn’t rush it like that idiot was clearly trying to. He wouldn’t crowd you, wouldn’t beg for attention with cheap lines and beer-breath confidence. He’d make you look at him. Make you lose control and make you choose. He would make you want it, crave it, he would build it for you, make you beg for it.
The thought turned dark fast. He imagined your back against the wall instead of the dancefloor. Imagined the way your smile would change if it was meant just for him, smaller, sharper, dangerous. He hated how badly he wanted it. Hated that he had wanted it for a long time, even when you barely spared him a glance.
Especially then.
Taehyung teared his eyes away before getting worse, retreating to the kitchen with the rest of the group, forcing himself into conversation he didn’t want to hear. Forced to get you out of his mind and socialize. He hated it. But he had to.
And some minutes later he thought he was doing better. Someone gave him a drink, a girl he vaguely recognized. She was cute, loud, she was leaning too close. She laughed at something he didn’t say. She touched his arm. He wasn’t feeling it, and he hated it.
His attention kept snapping back to the living room, to the way you move, the way that man kept trying to keep up with you and failing. Taehyung told himself it shouldn’t matter, he told himself you were freshly broken up, off-limits, bad timing wrapped in a bad idea, bad decision. If you hadn’t chose him before you were definitely not going to choose him now. He had been trying to convinced himself for years about it, after you had been introduced to the group, after you choose to date one of his closest friends, after you choose another man that wasn’t him.
And lately he had been trying, he had been doing better. Trying not to flirt with you, trying to stay away from you, barely seeing you, specially when you were with your boyfriend. The last four months he had decided to just get over it. There was a thousand more girls around he could sleep with, he didn’t need to obsess over someone who didn’t want him and who was dating one of his friends.
But, of course, you had broken up.
And he found you in this party.
And he was losing his mind.
You appeared in the kitchen, like you felt him thinking about you. You slipped into the room with a grin that looked like trouble, eyes bright, a little flushed, hair messy from dancing. You scanned the room once, then lifted your voice just enough to cut through the noise.
“Who wants to take shots with me?”
There was a pause, a collective hesitation.
Taehyung had his answer before he could even think about it. “I do.”
It came out solid, certain.
But it didn’t surprise him. Because he had never doubt for a second of doing anything related to you.
You looked at him then. And something flickered in your expression. Surprise, maybe… or interest. Or maybe you were just drunk enough to make reckless decisions.
“Okay,” you said, like you’ve already decided. “Let’s go.”
The girl at his side opened her mouth, clearly expecting an invitation. She didn’t get one.
Taehyung didn’t even look back as he followed you through the crowd, shoulder to shoulder, close enough that he could smell your perfume and could feel the heat of your body. Warm, sweet, dangerous.
The improvised counter— which some friends had paid for the cheap bartender to have any drink they wanted— next to the stairs was sticky and loud and packed, but somehow it felt like the two of you carved out your own space.
You leaned over the counter. “Four shots of tequila.”
“Two,” Taehyung corrected, low and calm.
You glanced at him. “Scared?”
He smirked. “Don’t get crazy. We have all night.”
That earned him a laugh, short and sharp. You liked that kind of exchange, he could tell.
The bartender slid the glasses over. You grabbed yours immediately, clinking it against his.
“To having all night,” you said.
Taehyung held your gaze. “To take our time.”
You took the shot without breaking eye contact. It burned but you didn’t flinch.
You wiped your mouth with the back of your hand, then glanced at him sideways. “So, how’ve you been?.”
“Good,” he answered. Not really interested in making small talk. “I heard about your breakup.”
“Um,” You hummed, already looking past it. “Everyone did.”
“That’s it?”
“What do you want me to say?” you replied lightly. “It ended. Now I’m here dancing.”
There was something deliberate in the way you dismissed it, like you refused to give it weight. Taehyung respected that, and he wanted to push anyway. But he didn’t, not yet. He asked for more tequila.
“Now you’re taking shots.”
You tiltled your head, studying him now. “Who was that girl you were with?”
He blinked. “What girl?”
“The one desperately touching your arm like it might save her life.”
He huffed a quiet laugh. “No idea.”
“Liar. And rude for not inviting her to take shots with us.” You shook your head. “She looked mad.”
“Honestly,” he said, voice dropping, “I wasn’t paying attention.” For the first time, your eyes lingered on him a second longer than necessary. Taehyung tried not to look so impressed. “And the guy you were dancing with?” he asked casually. “Your date? He seemed… eager.”
You smiled, slow and unimpressed. “He was fine.” You didn’t confirm if he was your date which he knew it was on purpose to leave him guessing.
You leaned closer, elbows on the counter, invading his space on purpose now. “Why? You’re going to tell Jungkook?”
He didn’t hesitate. “Should I?”
Your lips twitched. “Depends.”
“On what?”
“If I end up fucking him tonight.”
The air between you tightened. The music faded into background noise. Taehyung didn’t like the way you would do anything to get Jungkook’s attention, your ex boyfriend. He leaned in just enough that only you could hear him.
“Why don’t you find someone who can do a better job?”
“You don’t know—”
“He looked pathetic.”
Your eyes narrowed. Your lips moved to his ear, you were playing something he hadn’t see in you before. Not with him. “And who could a better job?.”
Taehyung was aware you knew what he would answer. You were daring him, provoking him. And he was never one to back down.
“I know I could.”
Your smile sharpened, in a mean, interested way. “Big words,” you said. “From someone I’ve barely noticed.”
“That is your mistake,” he replied.
You laughed again, but this time it was quieter. A little out of it.
You grabbed the second shots and slid it toward him. “Careful,” you murmured. “I’m drinking too much and you’re starting to look like your best friend who dumped me.”
He picked up the glass, ignoring your mean words. “You asked for shots.”
You clinked glasses again. When you purred down, neither of you looked away.
The shots kept coming.
You ordered them like it was muscle memory, like the night wasn’t already tilting slightly off its axis. Taehyung didn’t stop you. If anything, he encouraged it, slid the glasses closer, nudged your elbow with his, leaned in so his voice landed warm against your ear.
“You’re trouble,” he murmured after two more shots, smiling like it was a compliment.
“You say that like it’s new information,” you replied, already lifting the glass.
The tequila burned less this time. Or maybe you were just numb to it. You laughed when it hit, head tipping back slightly, throat exposed for half a second too long.
Taehyung’s eyes track the movement without shame. And he thought how his hand would look around it, how he would squeeze it enough to make you let out a sweet noise for him. His eyes narrowed, he licked his lips, watching your lower lip get wet with alcohol. He wanted to licked you clean, taste your mouth. He could just leaned in and kiss you, devour you. It could be so simple if he just…
“You always look like this when you drink?” he asked.
“Like what?”
“Like someone I want to ruin.”
You snorted, not really feeling it. “You’re embarrassing.”
“I’m honest,” he corrected.
His hand brushed your lower back, not lingering, not innocent either. Just enough to make a point. He wanted you, badly. You didn’t move away, and that alone felt like permission.
Then you tilted your head, eyes sharp despite the alcohol. “You remember I just broke up with one of your best friends, right?”
There it was.
The line in the sand.
Taehyung didn’t even pretend to think about it. He smiled, slow and unapologetic.
“When has that ever stopped me?”
The words settled between you two, heavy and wrong and charged.
He knew exactly what he was in that moment. A bad friend, a worse idea. The kind of man people warn you about after the fact. He should feel guilt clawing at his chest, loyalty screaming louder than want. Instead, all he felt was hunger. It was stupid how badly he wanted you. Embarrassing, really. Like a craving that had been denied for so long it had turned feral. He wanted you quietly, patiently, from a distance, he had watched you choose someone else, watched his friend fumbled you like he didn’t know what he had.
If he were smarter, he’d have known.
Taehyung knew, he knew the moment Jungkook left you out of his claws for a second any man would try to have his hands on you— including him. And the worst thing was, Taehyung knew something so sad. He knew his best friend was probably in bed now, thinking about you, about how to get you back, about how bad he got it for screwing things with you. Taehyung didn’t need to heart it, didn’t need to know. If he did maybe a tiny drop of guilt could have formed in his stomach. But he preferred to play blind. If his friend never told him he missed you, how he screwed up… then Taehyung couldn’t feel guilty about wanting to have you.
And he knew he could do better. He knew Jungkook could brag about you, about how good he was at everything. In sports, in music, in dancing… in touching you. In making you feel good. Taehyung hated that thought, he didn’t like it at all. Because if he knew one thing about you, is that he could make you feel better than anyone. He knew he’d worship you in all the ways his friend never thought of.
The thought made something dark and possessive curled in his stomach.
And you just laughed, not nervous, not impressed. Just amused.
“You’re evil, Taehyung.” You said, shaking your head. “Truly.”
And the way you said his name. God, the world was just being so unfair to him.
“Maybe,” he replied softly, “but you haven’t left yet.”
You didn’t argue.
More shots came. The party grew louder, messier, bodies packed tight, sweat and bass and spilled alcohol everywhere. Taehyung felt untouchable, dangerous, like the world had narrowed down to the curve of your mouth and the way you kept leaning into him without realizing it.
Eventually, you sighed and push off the bar. “I need the bathroom.”
“I’ll wait.”
He watched you walk away. Every step. The sway of your hips, the confidence in your body, the way heads turned as you passed. His thoughts spiralled fast and ugly. He imagined you alone in the mirror, fixing your lipstick, steadying yourself. He imagined himself going behind you and pushing that little skirt you were wearing to your waist, his fingers touching you in your sweetest places, the places you liked. He imagined the way your lips would part and the noises you would make…
His train of dirty thoughts stopped.
The man who you were dancing early passed by his side, walking to the bathroom you entered. Taehyung watched him hesitate for half a second before opening the door and close it behind him.
Something snapped in him, something deep and violent.
And he was moving before logic caught up.
The bathroom door swung open and the scene was almost painfully normal. You were at the sink, leaning forward slightly, fixing your hair. The man stood too close, saying something in your ear you clearly didn’t care about. But he had his hands on your waist, and Taehyung didn’t like that at all.
Who the fuck did he think he was to touch you like that?
Taehyung grabbed him by the shoulder and shoved him back out into the hall without ceremony. “Get out.”
“What the—”
“Bye.”
The door slammed shut in his face, Taehyung locked the door before turning to you.
You whirled around. “What the hell are you doing?”
Your voice echoed off the tiles, sharp and incredulous. You didn’t look scared or furious, but slightly annoyed at him for the scene. Your eyes narrowed, you were drunk. And so was he.
Your eyes flashed. “And if I did? That’s not your problem.”
The words hit him like a slap. He stepped closer. “You can do better.”
“You don’t get to decide that.”
“I already have,” he shrugged. “Or do you want me to bring him back inside so he can give you a lame fuck?.”
You scoffed, pushing past him slightly, chin lifted in challenge. “What the hell is wrong with you?” you asked. “Can you stop pretending you’re something of mine?.”
“Can you stop pretending you don’t want this to happen?.” he snapped, gesturing between you two. “We both know you’re now just full of shit.”
You laughed in his face, sharp. “You don’t know anything about me if you think I wanna fuck you.”
“Please, you didn’t leave my side all night. You had been waiting for me to make a move.”
Taehyung knew he was playing a dangerous game. But he liked his odd. He liked to play with you. And he knew one thing: It had been the first time you had entertained him after all his attempts of trying to get you.
So he had to be right. He wanted to be right.
Your jaw tightened. “If I wanted to fuck you, I would have done it a long time ago.” You got closer to him. Your nose almost inches from touching his face. You looked up to him. You were so close he could feel your breath. “Why do you think I went for Jungkook and not you?.”
Your words landed, heavy and deliberate, and for a second the only sound in the bathroom was the muffled music bleeding through the walls, the buzz of voices outside, the drip of a leaky faucet.
Taehyung didn’t move, didn’t back away. He looked down at you like he was trying to memorize your face.
“Because you like playing safe,” he said finally, voice low and deep, almost calm. Too calm. “Easy choice. Someone you didn’t have to think about too much.”
You scoffed, but you didn’t pull back. “And you think you’re what? Complicated?”
“I think,” he started, leaning in just enough that your lips almost brush when he spoke, “you didn’t want to want me. Because we both know, once I’m done with you, you won’t stop thinking about it.”
That did it.
Something shifted in your expression, annoyance giving way to something sharper, more dangerous. You tilted your head, smirk slow and cruel.
“Don’t flatter yourself,” you murmured. “You’re not special. You just have a deep voice and recently got jacked.”
Taehyung huffed a quiet laugh, shaking his head. His hand came up, bracing against the sink beside you, boxing you in without touching you. The proximity was intentional, claimed.
“Funny,” he said. “For someone who doesn’t want me, you’re not trying very hard to leave.”
You glanced down, then back up at him through your lashes. “Maybe I just like watching you make a pathetic man of yourself.”
He hummed. “Or maybe, maybe you like when I look at you like this.”
“Like what?”
“Like I’ve been waiting all night to get you alone.”
Taehyung can see the way your eyes quickly moved to his mouth against your will. And he knew you hated that he noticed it.
“You’re obsessed,” you muttered, trying to get some control.
“Yeah,” he said easily. “With you.”
The word hung there, unashamed and unapologetic.
You swallowed, jaw tightening again. “You’re a terrible friend.”
“I know,” Taehyung replied, eyes never leaving yours. “And I still want you.”
You tried to step back but your lower back hit the sink. Your fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt without permission, like your body betrayed you before your mouth could keep up. And you tried to blame it on the way you destabilized yourself when you tried to step back. You realized too late Taehyung was already enjoying the motion.
His gaze dropped to your hand and then back to your eyes.
“There,” he murmured. “That.”
You tried to pull your hand back. He didn’t let you, not grabbing, just stepping closer so there was nowhere for it to go. Your legs were squeezing together. His jeans rasping your bare legs. His torso brushing your chest, heat radiating, tension coiled tight between you.
“Say it again,” he said softly.
“Say what?”
“That you don’t want me.”
You opened your mouth.
And this time nothing came out.
Taehyung exhaled, slow and controlled, like he was reached the edge of his restraint. His hand lifted, grabbing your chin in his fingers without delicacy and tilting your face up.
“Look at me,” he commanded.
You did.
And when he kissed you, it was brutal.
It wasn’t soft or careful. Taehyung’s mouth crashed into yours like he was done pretending he had any restraint, like every thought he had swallowed all night finally snapped. It was messy, hungry, teeth knocking just slightly before it settled into something deeper and slow. His mouth tasting every place of yours, trying to memorize every single part of your mouth.
His hands were everywhere over your body at first, brushing them over your face and waist before one gripped your jaw, thumb pressing just enough to make you gasp into his mouth, the sound swallowed instantly. The other slid down your waist, firm, claiming and possessive, fingers digging in like he was afraid you’ll disappear if he let go. He crowded you back against the sink, body heat pinning you there, not gentle about it.
You made a sound, low, surprised, mad. Like you had woken up from the enchanted of the kiss. You bit his lower lip, trying to push him away. Taehyung groaned against your lips like it was exactly what he wanted.
“Fuck,” he muttered, barely pulling back, forehead resting against yours. His breath was hot, uneven. “You feel this and still wanna lie to me?”
Before you could answer, he kissed you again.
Deeper and slower this time. Like he had decided to savor it. His mouth moved with intent, like he knew exactly how to pull a reaction out of you, how to make your hands fist in his shirt, how to make your knees go weak even while you were trying to stay mad.
Your fingers slid up his neck, nails scraping just enough to make him suck in a sharp breath. His grip tightened in response, hand slipping up your back, flattening you to him. There was no space left, no room to think.
The bathroom felt too small, it buzzed from the music outside. The mirror caught the movement, your bodies pressed together, his head tilted down, yours tipped back slightly, lips swollen, breath ruined.
Taehyung pulled back just enough to look at you. His eyes were dark, blown out, jaw tight like he was holding himself back from doing something much worse. His thumb brushed over your bottom lip, slow, possessive.
“Okay. Now tell me to stop if you really want me to.”
You wanted to say something sharp, something mean.
Instead, you grabbed him again and kissed him back, harder and needy. And Taehyung let out a sound that was pure satisfaction as he kissed you like he had been waiting his whole life to finally have you, like he had been starving and you were the only thing that could ever fix it.
The fact that now you wanted him too made his heart beat like it was about to jump out of his chest.
Taehyung wanted to take it slow. Show you how good he could be for you, even though you had been so mean to him. But he couldn’t wait. He didn’t want to wait for you to change your mind. And as much as he wanted to have your mouth over his till the end of times, it took everything in him to pushed back enough to look at you in the eyes. His hands roaming all over your body before they settled in your waist.
God, he wanted to ruin you so bad.
You looked so good for him. Your hair messy, your lips swollen and red, your cheeks blushed, your eyes dark and lustful. For him, only for him. You were practically begging him to act up, looking like that. You were sinful.
“What are you doing?,” you asked breathily when he didn’t move.
Taehyung looked at you. “I want you to say it.”
“Say what?.”
“Say you want me.”
You titled your head, confused. You had finally accepted him and he was trying to make you say it out loud?. You didn’t know if you should’ve been mad or horny.
“Are you serious?.
“Say it,” he said. His voice deeper, firmer. “Say it and I’ll take care of you.”
You went silent, just for a second before looking at him prettily. “I want you.”
“Say it correctly.”
“I want you, Taehyung.”
You weren’t ashamed, you didn’t look shy or regretful. It was like it caused you satisfaction to say those words. Maybe because you knew the effect that you had on him.
And the way you said his name, the way your voice went so sweet, almost pouty... needy. Taehyung was only a man after all. And you had a way to make his head spin in the wrong ways. You gave him a smile that seemed like you were just begging him to ruin you. Taehyung didn’t think of him as a strong willed man. He could see you looking at him like that and it was game over for him.
With a hand on your chin, he leaned in to give you a sweet kiss. He thought of all the ways that he would ruin you that night. The way you finally wanted him like that too. He wanted to burn his taste inside your mouth. He wanted you to be full of him in every way you could be. Just him, nobody else, not your ex boyfriend, not that man you were dancing with him. His, only his. And he knew that once he was done with you… you would come back for him, for more.
God, he was going insane.
His lips moved to your jaw, kissing down to your neck with desire, sucking hard and not caring whether or not it bruised. He imagined for a second how Jungkook would react to it. If tomorrow he showed up to your house, asking you to take him back only to find you covered in Taehyung’s marks. The thought made him rolled his eyes back, pleasure building in his stomach, making him rock hard. He wanted you more than words could let you know. He turned to marking you to show you just how bad he craved you, how much you were now his.
His right hand hovered over your body, slowly making his way between your thighs. You were so sweet for him, slowly opening your legs to give him better access. To invite him to touch you. He kissed your mouth as a reward, you were so obedient. Taehyung liked it, like the way you would do whatever you wanted to have your pleasure, to get off. He liked the way you choose him tonight, only him, to trust him with it.
He wasn’t going to disappoint you.
Taehyung ran his index finger through your folds over the cloth. He moaned into your neck, eyes rolling back at the feeling of your soaked panties. God, you were going to kill him. Have you been wet all night? or did he make you feel like this just now?. He couldn’t wait to put his mouth there between your legs. It was so soaked through that he could feel the outline of your pussy perfectly. He pushed his index finger just barely into your hole, feeling your panties scrunch up into it.
He pulled away to catch his breath, eyes full of lust as he watched your face contort with pleasure from his touch.
“You like that?,” Taehyung whispered in your mouth. His voice deeper, it made you clenched into nothing. “I’m going to touch you, okay?. I’m going to make you feel so good.”
His eyes were dark and blown out. He pulled your panties down just barely, letting them sit below your hip bones while he kissed your chin. He was agonizingly slow as he pulled further and further, not daring to reveal your cunt until you were desperate enough to say it out loud.
“Tae—”
“Yeah,” he nodded at you. “I like how you say my name like that, so pretty.” He kissed your mouth, hard, sweetly. “You’re so pretty. So, so pretty for me.”
His fingers found your clit. You melted into the feeling, sighing in relief. Your hips twitched closer to his hand, making sure he won’t leave so soon.
“Yes, please.”
He stopped, making you whined.
Taehyung swallowed the noise, his cock twitching in his pants. Then he kissed you hard, tongue sliding in your mouth to prove how much he wanted you, messy, dirty. It felt perverted how much he wanted to have your mouth in his all the time. But he had a mission.
“Fuck, fuck.” He gave you a last peck before slowly kneeling. “Say please again.” You groaned and his fingers circled your clit again, this time with more intention. You bit your lip as he watched you trying to contain your pretty sounds. “Say it. Ask nicely, baby. And don’t bite your lips, I wanna hear you.”
You let a breathy moan, opening your legs wider while looking at him. “Please, Tae.”
“Please what, baby?.”
“Please touch me.”
“So sweet,” he kissed and bit your inner thighs. “So, so sweet for me. God, you’re so hot, baby. Gonna make you feel good. Wanna hear you, okay?. Make me hear you.”
Taehyung was so desperate, he felt feral. He almost was sure he could cry of joy. He had waited for so long, so patiently. You’ve finally broken, you finally wanted him back. You were finally spreading your pretty legs for him to touch you, to make you feel better. His cock was straining against his pants, he could feel his pre cum leaking profusely from his tip, but he ignored it completely to focus on you.
His hands quickly moved your skirt higher, leaving him a good sight of your cunt. He tried not to lose control, sliding your panties to the ground and taking them off before saving them in his pocket. He could moan from the sight. Your glistening cunt, so sweet and waiting for him.
Taehyung rubbed your slit and gathered your arousal on his fingers. You gasped as he glided his fingers across your clit, playing with the swollen bud for a minute, wanting to get you soaking before he stretched you out, before he could taste you. He circled his finger around your entrance, teasingly applying pressure just to watch you squirmed. He felt good, having you like that.
Even if he was on his knees he felt like he had the power. He was going to make sure you would come crying back to him every night asking for his touch, desperate, needy for him and no one else.
He dipped a finger into your hole, stopping once he was knuckle-deep. He fucked his long finger into you slowly, and you sighed at the relief. He watched his finger sink into you, humming in pleasure when he saw how it collected your wetness. Taehyung didn’t ask before he was inserting another one, already feeling your walls clenching at him for dear life. His fingers were so long, so mean, stuffing you so deep and full. He couldn’t wait to have his cock burry inside you. The stretch would feel like heaven, and he knew you were craving to be stuffed by him.
Taehyung increased his pace a little more, curling his fingers up. It took him a minute to find what he was looking for, but he knew he got it when you whined and your leg kicked out helplessly. It didn’t take you too long to put it around his shoulder, Taehyung hold it steady, gripping your fat thigh. You held yourself for dear life to the sink behind you. He kept pressing into that spot, curling his fingers up to hit it every time, relishing in the garbled moans that spill out of your mouth.
You arched your back and yelp at the sensation of him pressing against the spongy part inside of you roughly. He grinned and kept thrusting against that spot, watching your reactions with amused eyes. His head moved down between your thighs, biting and sucking at all the flesh his mouth could find.
And then he wrapped his lips around your clit once he grew tired of marking you.
“Tae— Ngh… shit.”
Taehyung could come from just your taste and your sweet sounds. He was sure of it.
His eyes almost rolled back at how much you were clamping down on him, his wet fingers making dirty noises of how hard he was fucking them inside you, wet sounds filling the buzz in the room. But that wasn’t enough for him. He wanted to taste you correctly.
With a final hard suck on your clit, he took his fingers out of your entrance before eating you out properly. Taehyung thought you were such a dream when you were mewling and panting like that, eager for him. He licked you like you were the sweetest thing he’d ever tasted. At first very slow, dragging his tongue flat and firm to savour you and memorize you with his tongue. And then focusing in on your clit with a rhythmic flick that had your whole body jerking. He knew how to make you jump in pleasure now, and he loved knowing it.
Your hands flew to his hair, fingers tangling in the soft dark strands as you moaned shamelessly. He liked you like that, shameless, breakable.
His tongue moved down to your fluttering entrance, and his stomach clenched when he realized how empty you must feel for him. Taehyung couldn’t wait to fuck you, have you stuffed of him. But first, he stuffed his tongue inside you, making sure his nose stayed pressed against your clit. He moaned at your juices dripping on his taste buds and the way you tried to tighten around his tongue. He licked and rubbed at you as much as he could, determined to get his fill of your arousal.
Taehyung could swear he could cum untouched if he hadn’t waited so long for you to finally gave in. He swore he could die between your legs, his mouth on your cunt, sucking and lapping, moaning into your heat like he had found water after being thirsty. He was making the most unholiest, nasty dirty noises like it was a fucking heaven for him. And it was, it was a dream.
Taehyung was going insane.
Everything faded into a lofty state of bliss while he hungrily ate you out without taking a break, consumed with the urge to swallow you whole. He relished in the way you grabbed onto his hair, nails digging into his scalp as he barely pulled back for air all while he devoured you. The way you were squirming and rubbing yourself in his tongue and nose was a sight to behold, one that caused him to chase the friction that he earned when his aching, neglected cock rubbed in his pants, almost humping the air like a dog in heat.
You moaned, pulling him back by the hair. His mouth, nose and chin covered in your juices, he looked crazy drunk of you. He was crazy drunk of you.
“Tae—”
“Want you to cum on my mouth,” he tried to go back in but you pulled his hair harder.
“Taehyung fuck me already, please.”
Taehyung was sure you were a witch.
His cock jumped in his pants. In less than two seconds he was already standing up, badly cleaning his face with his shirt before stamping his lips into yours and kissing you hard. You moaned at your own taste. His kiss was messy, he wanted to show you how much he wanted you. How dirty and perverted he was for you.
You jolted when you felt his teeth on your jaw and neck, biting down and sucking hard. It made your hips push forward, and he moaned against you. His hard on poking at your thigh angrily, he start rubbing himself on you. Taehyung started to suck at your neck. the pressure was light, but enough to leave some marks. You played with his fluffy hair, letting out a noise between a sigh and a moan.
Taehyung pushed you harder to the sink, unbuckling his jeans and shoving them down with his underwear to the ground. His cock jumped out. His tip was red and angry, leaking pre cum. Taehyung was big, and veiny. He saw the way your eyes narrowed down, as if you wanted to kneel and put it in your mouth.
Before he could stop you, you were already wrapping your hand around him. Your thumb brushed his tip, collecting the pre cum before passing it around his length. He groaned, closing his eyes and his head dropping to your shoulder while you started pumping his cock so sweet and softly. Like you were taking your time to make him suffer.
“You’re so big.” You said so sweetly, like you weren’t doing the nastiest shit ever. As if you didn’t make him have the dirtiest thoughts about you. “Your cock is so pretty, Tae.”
Your fingers could barely wrapped around his cock, your hand was hot and felt so good around him. Your long nails looked so pretty around him, so feminine, so in place. Shit, Taehyung knew wasn’t going to last much. You felt too good, You were so good for him, touching him like that. So sweet making him lost in pleasure. Your soft hands making him feel so—
Taehyung snapped open his eyes.
No, you weren’t the one that was supposed to have control. He promised he was going to make you feel good.
He took your hand out, softly, to not make you angry. He wrapped it around his cock and moved to give him space between your legs.
“I’m gonna fuck you now,” he whispered in your ear. “I want you to take it, okay?. Gonna take what I give you.” The head of his cock brushed your clit and it made your thighs jolt. “I’m gonna fuck you the way I want. Got it?” You quickly nodded. He grabbed your jaw with hardness, his gripped in your thigh around his waist was leaving a bruise. “Say it.”
“Yes,” you breathed out.
“Yes, what?” he gathered your arousal on his cock as he waited for your answer, sliding his tip through your folds, your juices coating all his length. And then his tip hit your clit angrily, so good it made you rolled your eyes for a second.
Your head was spinning, and you knew you shouldn’t let it happen, but fuck, you need it too. So badly. “Yes, yes. I’ll take it. Everything.” You whined. “Just fuck me already,” you caved, arching your back invitingly.
“Say please,” he teased.
“Taehyung—”
“Say it.”
“Mmm. Please, please, please…”
Taehyung gripped your thigh and slammed into you, hips snapping forward with a force that punched the air from your lungs. Your back arched, toes curling as the wet slap of skin on skin filled the room. You felt so good, Taehyung hissed and dropped his forehead to your shoulder, pushing forward and brutally the last bit that wasn’t able to fit. It was rough, almost a little painful. He tried to held your legs open so he could try to press his hips flush against yours. You both groaned at the feeling, needing a minute to adjust.
Taehyung felt like heaven. He tried to think about the music outside, the buzz, the dirty bathroom and all the germs, the terrible dancers, the disgusting shots… he wanted to think other that wasn’t your cunt choking his cock so needing. No, he couldn’t. You were burning. You were wrapped around him so warm, so delicious. He could feel his thighs tensing, his grip in your skin tightened. You were so good, so perfect, your walls were swallowing him whole.
“Shit, so good. You— you feel so good.” Taehyung stuttered. He pulled out just a couple inches and rammed himself back in. You cried in his ear, feeling so deliciously full, it was almost overwhelming. “Yes, yes. Shit, you sound so sweet, baby. Tell me, tell me how much you like it.”
“S-so good. You feel so good.”
Oh. He was going to make a mess out of you.
Taehyung slammed his hips into yours harder, meaner. His tip touching the spongy spot it made you almost whimpered. His hand pressed hard in your lower tummy, making you squeeze him harder. Making you feel him completely inside you.
“Gonna fuck you so fucking good, you’re gonna keep coming back for more.” You could barely breathe, barely think. His cock was hitting every sensitive spot inside you, your clit throbbing from how hard he was diving into you. “Gonna make you beg for it, just how you made me do it for years.”
He reached down, thumb finding your clit again, rubbing fast circles that made your whole body spasmed under him.
“Wait, w-wait, s’too much…” You stuttered, jaw dropping open with a gasp as he pounded into you without a care.
He gripped your hair, pulling your head back, your lips meeting in a hot, messy kiss. You were practically drooling with the way his cock was abusing your cunt. He was meaner, he was trying to prove something.
Your head fell back as he continued fucking you angrily. His mouth bit your already bruised throat, marking your skin as his.
“I told you, you’ll take what I give you.” He growled, his voice rough, wrecked. “This is what you wanted, isn’t it? To be stretched, filled— fucked properly?” You shook your head, teeth biting down into your bottom lip roughly to suppress your moans. He chuckled dryly, moving his hips a little faster as he fucked you. “You were gonna choose a lame guy to what? Seek attention from your loser ex? You’re so pathetic, baby.” Taehyung felt on cloud nine, he couldn’t stop taking, couldn’t stop fucking you. “But it’s okay now. I’ll take care of it. Gonna make you dumb, huh? Gonna make you so dumb you won’t be thinking about him anymore.”
“Mhm, don’t stop,” you whined, pulling his hair.
“Did he touch you better than this?” He slammed his hips harder into you. “I’ll make you forget about him. This greedy cunt is mine now. Got it? He’ll probably be back begging for you to take him back,” his grip on you were bruising now. His thrusts came fast, filthy, brutal, skin slapping, breath ragged. “But you’ll be dripping and covered in me. Only me, baby— Only me. Won’t let you— won’t let you go one day without my cum, okay?. That fucking loser won’t have you, huh? He doesn’t deserve you… tell me you won’t take him back.”
You shook your head, “I won’t.”
“Say my name. Promise me you won’t take him back.”
“I won’t— I won’t take him back,” you whined, too drunk of him. “I promise, I promise, Tae.”
Taehyung was sure you didn’t know what you were saying, what he was making you say. Too drunk on him, too of a whore for his cock hitting the right places.
He rubbed your puffy clit faster. “That’s right. Y-you are gonna be crawling back to me, pretty. And I’ll fuck you like this. I’m the only— I’m the only one that can make you feel this good. Mm, shit— s’good. I should’ve been pumping this pretty cunt with cum every single day…”
Taehyung was already pounding you dizzy. And he felt his lower stomach tightened.
He knew he shouldn’t be so reckless. He should sprayed his cum on your thighs or in his hand. He knew that, but your cunt was sucking him in so tightly and so delicious that the only thing he could think of was his cum rushing deep inside of you. Consequences be damned, he thought. He’ll cum inside of you if he fucking wanted to.
You were his now, you looked so gorgeous only for him. He continued thrusting into you hard, never pulling out more than halfway, letting you take him deep inside your cunt. “oh my god, don’t stop,” you urged, nails digging into his neck and shoulders.
You were close. Taehyung felt your walls squeezing him harder. He moaned in your neck, you were sucking him so hard it was too much. He rubbed your clit desperately, helping you find your release. It didn’t take you too long to do so. Your high hit you like a truck, your nails scrapped his shoulder, your mouth parting to moan loudly. You closed your eyes, walls closing so hard and your juices coating his cock. Your vision went blurry, your breathing uneven.
Taehyung’s cock twitched inside you. His eyes rolled back, his hands gripping your skin as he heard your whimper. That hit his final straw, his forehead hit your shoulder as he felt succumbing to the sweet release. He didn’t even as he came undone, ropes and ropes of hot cum filling up your sloppy cunt and spurting down onto your thighs.
He was unrelenting, keeping you within the throes of orgasmic bliss with his cock plunging inside of you over and over again. You tried to push him away, whining overstimulated, but he didn’t let you. He needed it so bad, and so much more he kept slowly rutting into you, his cock softening inside you as he allowed himself to keep going. The overstimulation was getting to him, teeth sinking back into his lip as he tried to contain his whiny moans until his legs twitched, his eyes fill with tears and his cock ached asking him to stop, even if he didn’t want to.
It took you both a couple of minutes to catch your breath and come back to reality. The buzz of the music and noise outside hitting you back to reality. Taehyung felt you trying to push him away again, maybe to clean yourselves and go back outside. Finishing whatever had happened there.
But he didn’t want to. He didn’t want it to the end just yet.
Taehyung pulled apart, giving you a soft kiss before sliding out of you. You let a breathy moan, feeling your cunt expelling his cum and pulsating hard, very sensitive. He didn’t give you time to react before he was kneeling again, opening your legs apart to watch your pussy clenching at the tingling sensation of his cum dripping down.
His mouth was salivating at the sight. And he thought it was perfect. That is perfect. He wanted to see you covered in him. Your cunt puffy and swollen, overstimulated and asking for mercy. He wanted to give you all he had to offer to you. He wanted you to take it all, even if you couldn’t not more.
“What are you doing?” You asked him, voice raspy and dragging it. He looked at you, dark gaze and starry eyes. “Don’t do— Mmhg, Tae, fuck!.”
His mouth was on you in an instant, tongue lapping up the mess he had uncovered like he didn’t care about anything else. His eyes rolled back at the taste, eating his own cum from your cunt. The first swipe was slow, tasting every bit of the slick coating your folds. He thought it was the perfect taste, the perfect meal. Both of you dripping from your hole.
The next one was rougher, hungrier, tongue pressing deeper as he groaned into your heat. He wanted nothing more than that.
“Wait, wait. too much, s’too much, please…” You cried out.
You tried to pushed him away, you were too sensitive, he could tell. Your lips were swollen and your clit was so puffy and red. You were so cute, so sensitive, so weak. But Taehyung liked it, you couldn’t do anything than just take it. He gripped at you stronger, making you wrapped your leg around his shoulder and holding you in place as he licked you clean, every part of you dirty heat getting clean with his mean tongue.
Your back arched and he was sure that was the best view. Watching you break apart, legs open, back arched, trembling and moaning for him, in his tongue. Accepting your fate. Not being able to push him away, too week to fight. You just had to take it and enjoy it.
Fuck, he couldn’t wait to have you like that again. Stuffed by him, lying in his bed, in his sofa. Against his walls, in his kitchen counter. Taehyung was sure that wouldn’t be the last time. There was no way he could spent more than a week not tasting you, not feeling your heat in his face. Not being deep inside you. He couldn’t bear the thought of it. He wouldn’t have it that way.
Taehyung got sloppy with it, getting more into it. He didn’t care about how messy he got, lips and chin completely covered of your juices but he loved it. He practically drowned himself between your thighs, gripping them so tightly as if he was afraid you’ll slip away. But you weren’t, you really couldn’t. He was holding you open for him.
He pressed your thighs harder and pulled slightly apart. Your head quickly moved to look at him, exasperated, you looked troubled. Maybe trying to stop him, maybe looking for your next release. You were so pretty. Taehyung looked up at you and his cock twitched in his pants, dying to get hard again for you. You were a mess, tears spilling down your cheeks, your face red and your lips pouty. You were so cute, so overstimulated, so sensitive. Taehyung could come from that sight. He was so drunk of you, chin full of your juices and swollen lips. He thought you were the prettiest like that, ruined by him.
He dived back, his head back into your cunt, his eyes still glued to yours as he sucked on your clit, hard and mad. And it didn’t take you too much to come undone. He didn’t look away, not even when you sobbed and rubbed into his mouth desperate. He didn’t look away when he drank all your juices, and he didn’t look away when he cleaned you up like a starved man.
“S-stop! Please, please, Taehyung, stop—”
You tried to pull him away from you by his hair, your grip so weak he could just push your hands away and dive back into you. But he didn’t, he wasn’t that mean. Not when you look so pretty fucked up, begging for mercy.
God, you were so fucked. So ruined by him. He loved it. He loved it so much. You were a piece of art he had made.
You were still catching your breath, thighs trembling, almost sobbing and tears falling down your cheeks when Taehyung kissed you again, deep and dirty, like he wanted you to taste yourself on his tongue. It was sloppy, messy. He thrusted his tongue into your mouth so he could make you taste everything. Him, you.
He wanted to engraved himself into you forever.
Taehyung pulled apart, and held you softly between his arms, letting you come back to reality. It took a couple of minutes, voices barging outside to hurry up because someone wanted to use the bathroom. He barely cared about it. His hands grabbing your face to watch you, cleaning your dry tears with his thumb and making you look at his eyes with your now dumb gaze.
“You’re okay, baby?” He brushed your cheek sweetly. “I’m gonna clean you up now, okay? Just talk to me.”
“Uhm,” you nodded weakly. “Just need a second.”
Taehyung chuckled, watching you try to act tough. “It’s okay, take all the time you need.”
When you were able to stood by yourself, Taehyung cleaned himself quickly before grabbing some paper to start cleaning your thighs with delicacy, softly.
There was a silence. Taehyung was stretching the time cleaning you. Like he didn’t want to break the bubble you were both in. Because he didn’t. He didn’t want you to leave him. He didn’t want you to let go yet. It felt too soon. I felt wrong. He just wanted to take you back home, put you in his bed so you could rest and then fuck you again and again the next day. And the day after that, and the day after that too…
You hummed, trying to get his attention. “Tae,” you called. He watched you from below, gaze softer. Your eyes weren’t so bright now. Now a little more grounder and sober than before. “We can’t tell Jungkook about this.”
Taehyung stopped breathing for a second. It felt like the little bubble you were both in had exploded. His blood burned hot all over his body. Why were you even thinking about him now? It pissed him off. A minute ago you were shaking and crying for him and now you were thinking about Jungkook?.
He wanted to fuck you stupid again. Make you beg and cry for making him mad. Make you ask for forgiveness. Make you suffer a little for him…
His phone buzzed in his pants pocket.
Taehyung took it, almost too aggressively, to find a lot of missing calls and messages.
Jungkook: arrived at the party
Jungkook: where are you?
Jungkook: do you know if she’s here?
idk what’s wrong with me and these nasty ass one shots but everytime i smoke is like i can’t write more angst but only porn 😓😓
this was nasty ashellll i’m so sorry. i feel like i have to confess my sins to god or something
◦ summary ↠ he’s been around forever—your brother’s best friend, charming, off-limits, and slowly getting under your skin. when a group camping trip forces you too close for comfort, the tension finally snaps.
◦ pairing ↠ taehyung x reader
◦ word count ↠ 10.2k
◦ genre ↠ fluff, smut
◦ content warning(s) ↠ brother's best friend!taehyung, camping au, suggestive/explicit content, dirty talk, penetrative sex, ejaculation, f. and m. orgasm, fingering, thigh riding, unprotected sex, cum denial, lot of praise kink, edging, humiliation kink (very mild), dom!taehyung
a/n: hihi, still debating whether or not i should make this a series but lmk your thoughts! hope you guys enjoy :D
masterlist
You were halfway through getting ready, one eye already lined in sharp black eyeliner, the other still bare, hair clipped up messily to keep it out of your face. The faint hum of your playlist filled the room, mixing with the occasional squeak of your chair as you leaned over your vanity. You’d meant to take your time, finish doing your hair and maybe pick out a better outfit, but that was much easier said than done.
Your phone buzzed against the wood, startling you slightly as you’d just finished up your other eye. You stared at the text that flashed across your phone screen from your best friend, Rei: “Almost outside!” You glanced at the message, a small smile tugging at your lips.
“Okay,” you murmured, brushing off some stray hair and grabbing your bag. Finishing the rest could wait. You clipped the strap over your shoulder and practically ran downstairs, already imagining her teasing you for being in your unfinished state.
The doorbell rang sharply just as you reached the bottom step, echoing through the quiet house.
You swung the door open without thinking, hair falling around your face in loose waves, eyeliner freshly done but the rest of you clearly unfinished, only to freeze.
And there stood your brother’s best friend, Taehyung.
He looked momentarily caught off guard, eyes flicking over you in that split second of silence that stretched a little too long—your unfinished makeup, the casual clothes, the way you’d clearly been mid-routine. Then that familiar, slow smile tugged at his lips, amused and unreadable all at once.
“Oh—hey,” you said, suddenly very aware of everything you hadn’t finished.
“Hey,” he said. “Jimin home?”
“Yeah,” you replied, stepping aside. “He’s upstairs. He’ll be down in a second.”
You turned to close the door, catching the brief flick of his eyes before he looked away again. It wasn’t obvious, barely a beat too long, but you felt it. The chill from outside lingered in the entryway and the thin fabric of your tank top was doing you no favors. You glanced down just long enough to realize your nipples were clearly outlined, unmistakable once you noticed. Heat crept up your neck before you could stop it. You crossed your arms loosely, more habit than embarrassment, and led him inside.
“Sorry,” you added with a small laugh. “I’m kind of mid–getting ready.”
Taehyung glanced around the entryway like he was taking inventory of a place he already knew by heart. “Hey, don’t worry about it,” he said easily. “I’m the one who keeps barging into your guys’ place. Might as well start paying rent.”
You snorted. “You’d owe us millions at this point.”
“Well Jimin hasn’t kicked me out yet, so I’m calling it a win,” he admitted without shame, kicking his shoes off.
Footsteps sounded on the stairs a moment later, cutting off the awkward silence before it could form.
“Hyung!” Jimin called. “You’re early.”
Taehyung grinned. “Finished up work earlier than I expected, so I thought I’d swing by.” He stretched his arms above his head, letting out a satisfied breath.
“Well, you know what time it is then,” Jimin said, dropping onto the couch with a devious smirk, controller in hand. Taehyung followed, settling in beside him, his eyes flicking toward Jimin with a grin of his own.
You started back up the stairs, shaking your head at the boys and their ridiculous antics.
You’d known Taehyung for as long as you could remember. You all grew up together—same neighborhood, same schools, the kind of closeness that came from constant overlap. He was always around when you were younger, stretched out on the living room floor with your brother, stealing snacks, teasing both of you endlessly.
You’d had a crush on him once.
A small one.
He was older, cooler in that effortless way, and completely unreachable back then. Somewhere along the line, it faded, replaced by familiarity. But you had to admit that the butterflies did resurface at times. He was attractive, and no matter how much you tried to convince yourself otherwise, you couldn’t deny it.
As you reached the top of the stairs, you paused for half a second before the doorbell rang again, and you hurried to answer it. Rei was standing there, grinning, bag slung over her shoulder.
“Y/N!” she exclaimed, practically running inside. She threw her arms around you in a quick, enthusiastic hug. You laughed, taking her bag as the two of you scurried further inside.
You both passed the living room where the guys were gaming, yelling, shoving each other playfully, and leaning way too close to the screens like the stakes were life or death. There'd be controllers slammed, voices cracked with laughter and fake anger, and every so often someone would leap up to argue a point, sending cushions flying.
Upstairs, your room felt like a retreat. Rei flopped onto your bed and propped herself up on her elbows, looking at you with a mischievous grin.
“So,” she said, her voice dropping playfully, “your brother and his best friend? Honestly… I think they’re so attractive.”
You nearly choked on your snack. “Ew. My brother?”
“Yes!” Rei exclaimed. “And his friend too! I mean… wow. You’re lucky you get to see them all the time.”
You hesitated, cheeks warming. “…I mean… he’s pretty attractive,” you admitted, voice barely above a whisper. “But he’s definitely my brother’s best friend and it’s probably best that it stayed that way.”
“See! You do find him attractive!” Rei’s grin widened. “You should totally shoot your shot.”
“No way. Absolutely not.” You slapped her arm, laughing.
She laughed too, leaning back against the pillows. “I’m just saying… if I were you, I’d take advantage of the situation.”
“Yeah, we’ll see about that.” You shook your head, reaching for snacks as you turned on the movie you two planned to watch.
The rest of the night passed easily. Rei kicked off her shoes and immediately made herself comfortable, grabbing the popcorn and commenting on the movie like she was hosting her own commentary track. You half-watched, half-laughed, pausing now and then when she got too loud or insisted on rewinding a scene she missed while talking.
Somewhere along the way, the snacks disappeared, the movie turned into background noise, and the conversation drifted. Topics ranged from random updates, to inside jokes, to things that absolutely didn’t matter. You sprawled on opposite ends of the bed, scrolling on your phones at the same time while still talking, the way only close friends could.
Eventually, Rei groaned upon receiving a message from her mother. “Ugh, I should get going. If I stay any longer, my mom’s going to kill me.”
“Already?” you asked, surprised at how late it felt.
“Yep. I’ll survive… barely,” she said, standing. You walked her to the door and gave her a quick hug before she'd finally left.
Once she was gone, the house felt quieter than before, the darkness of the night seeping in through the windows. You headed back upstairs before slipping into your usual evening routine without much thought. Pajamas laid out on the bed. Phone tossed aside. You just wanted something warm to wash the day off before curling up and doing absolutely nothing.
You padded down the hall toward the bathroom, already half on autopilot, when you noticed the soft glow seeping from beneath the door.
Occupied.
You sighed quietly. Of course.
Jimin had a habit of treating showers like spa retreats—long, unnecessary, and borderline criminal. You leaned down just enough to confirm the light was on, then straightened with a shake of your head.
“Unbelievable,” you muttered under your breath.
Rather than deal with it immediately, you wandered back to your room and flopped onto your bed, grabbing your phone. A few minutes turned into more than a few. Scrolling aimlessly. Letting time pass. Waiting for the sound of the water to shut off.
It didn’t.
By the time you checked the clock again, irritation had crept in. He’d been in there forever.
You groaned, pushing yourself up from the bed and heading back down the hallway, but this time with determination. As you reached the bathroom door, you knocked, firm but familiar.
“Jimin,” you called through the wood, already bracing yourself. “Hurry up. You’ve been in there for—”
The door swung open mid-sentence.
And there stood your brother’s best friend, Taehyung, yet again.
You froze.
Your brain stalled, scrambling to catch up to what your eyes were suddenly processing. He was shirtless, his bare chest still damp, water droplets tracing lazy paths down his skin, dark hair wet and pushed back messily from his forehead. A towel hung low around his waist, secured just enough to be decent… barely.
And very much not Jimin.
Your breath hitched before you could stop it.
“Oh—” you blurted, instinctively stepping back, heat rushing straight to your face. “I— I thought you left.”
Taehyung blinked, clearly just as surprised to see you standing there, then glanced down at himself like he was only now realizing the situation.
“No, it’s—” he started, then stopped himself, clearing his throat. “I’m done. It’s all yours.”
You nodded too fast, heart hammering as you slipped past him into the bathroom, shutting the door behind you a little harder than necessary.
Only once you were alone did you let out the breath you’d been holding.
Great.
Just great.
And now you had to shower with the image of Taehyung. Unexpected, shirtless, and very much not gone, but perhaps burned into your mind. You let the water run hot, hoping it would wash the thoughts away along with the day, steam fogging up the mirror as you tried to reset your head.
By the time you stepped out of the shower and changed into something soft and oversized, you'd finally gotten around to plopping into bed for some of your usual doom-scrolling. This often went on for longer than you'd like to admit, but hours in bed also meant hours without food.
That was when it hit you.
Not loud hunger, just a slow, creeping craving. The kind that settled in your stomach and refused to be ignored. You sighed softly, already knowing you wouldn’t fall asleep like this.
You slipped out of your room quietly, phone in hand, flashlight on low as you tiptoed downstairs. The house was dark, quiet enough that every step felt louder than it actually was.
You kept the lights off, opening cabinets carefully until you found what you wanted, cereal, and saw it shoved all the way on the top shelf like it always was.
Of course.
You rose onto your tiptoes, stretching your arm, fingers grazing the edge of the box but not quite catching it. You tried again, leaning forward, balance tipping just slightly as you reached higher.
Then—
A presence.
A shadow moved close behind you.
Before you could react, an arm reached past you and effortlessly grabbed the box from the shelf.
You screamed.
Or yelped. Or something in between, but your feet slipped as you jumped back in pure panic.
Strong hands caught you instantly, steadying you before you could fall.
“Hey—hey—!”
Your heart was hammering as you looked up to see Taehyung again. Was he just following you at this point?
Shirtless, again. Hair dry, slightly messy like he’d just rolled out of bed. Bare skin, warm and solid where his hands still held your arms.
Your eyes flicked, unwanted but automatically, to his forearms, veins faintly visible beneath your fingers where you were gripping him without realizing it.
“Oh my god,” you blurted. “I thought you were— I thought no one was—”
“Sorry,” he said quickly, easing back once you were steady. “Didn’t mean to scare you.”
“What are you doing down here?” you asked, still trying to get your pulse under control.
'Water." He lifted the glass in his hand slightly. " I could ask you the same, though.”
“Snack,” you said, shaking the box once. “Obviously.”
“Fair,” he said. “Didn’t expect to end up being a horror movie villain in the kitchen.”
You huffed. “You succeeded.”
He laughed quietly, leaning back against the counter.
“Well,” he said, nodding toward the cereal, “at least the mission was successful.”
You hugged the box to your chest. “Next time, announce yourself.”
“I’ll try,” he said, amused.
He shifted the glass in his hand, pushing off the counter. “Uh… sorry. For earlier too. With the bathroom.”
Your face warmed immediately.
“It’s okay,” you said quickly, shaking your head. “If anything, I’m sorry. I thought you were my brother—I wouldn’t have rushed you like that otherwise.”
That earned a small laugh from him. “Guess I should take that as a compliment.”
“Don’t,” you said, but you were smiling.
He lifted his glass in a lazy little salute. “I’ll let you enjoy your very dramatic late-night snack.”
“Try not to haunt the kitchen again,” you shot back.
“No promises,” he said lightly, turning toward the stairs. “Night.”
“Night.”
You waited until his footsteps faded before letting out the breath you’d been holding, clutching the cereal like it was evidence of a crime.
After your midnight snack escapade, you'd finally made it back to your room. You dropped back onto your bed, the mattress dipping under your weight as you cracked open the cereal box and ate straight from it, handful after handful. You were halfway through chewing when your phone buzzed against the sheets beside you with a message from Rei, the sudden vibration pulling your attention away.
“Camping tomorrow!”
“Since when??” your eyes widened as you typed back.
“Since you told me you were free this weekend.” You rolled your eyes at the thought but and immediately dialed Rei's number.
“Hey! You saw my message?” she asked, laughing.
“Yeah… so, camping tomorrow?” you questioned, still doubtful about the whole thing.
“Yep! Everyone’s coming. It'll be so much fun!” Rei's energy made it hard for you to not want to go. So you ultimately gave in, despite the last minute nature of the plans.
After exchanging the specific details of the trip over the phone, two call between the two of you had finally come to an end. You noticed you’d been added to a group chat minutes after your conversation with Rei, titled, Camping Trip Squad.
You opened it, scanning through the names as they loaded in. Friends you’d known for years, your brother, and a few familiar faces from his side too. Somewhere along the way, your circles had blended together, so seeing everyone in one place didn’t feel strange.
Your thumb slowed when you spotted Taehyung’s name.
You paused for half a second, then kept scrolling. He was friends with Jimin, of course he’d be there. Simple as that.
You smiled to yourself, nervous and excited, and finally locked your phone and set it down. Not long after, you drifted off to sleep.
Tomorrow was going to be… something.
By mid-morning, you’d packed everything you thought you’d need: clothes, toiletries, a hoodie, snacks. You pulled your bag over your shoulder, hurrying outside to meet the others. Outside, two cars were already parked in the driveway, everyone bustling around loading luggage, folding sleeping bags, and juggling coolers. The air was full of chatter and the faint scent of coffee drifting from a thermos someone had brought.
You made your way over to the car you’d be in. Jimin was already in the driver’s seat, adjusting the mirrors and humming along to a song playing on the radio. Taehyung lounged in the front passenger seat, sunglasses pushed up on his head, casually scrolling on his phone.
Sliding into the back, you found yourself wedged between Rei and Seol, one of Jimin's close friends.
Jimin glanced at the three of you through the rearview mirror. “Everyone good back there?”
You shifted in your seat, adjusting your bag on your lap. “A little cramped,” you admitted, but tried to reassure him. “But not too bad.”
Taehyung turned around, raising an eyebrow to you. “If you want, you can switch seats with me,” he offered casually.
Before you could answer, Seol piped up, eyes bright. “I’ll take it!” she said, shooting a playful look toward Jimin, who grinned. You let her have it—Seol and Jimin sort of had a thing going on and it wasn’t really worth arguing.
So there you were, in the middle seat between Rei and now, Taehyung. The space was tight, but fine. You tried to settle in, adjusting your bag on your lap to create more space.
The car pulled onto the road, and soon the chatter from the front quieted into music playing softly from the car radio.
Exhaustion hit you halfway through the drive. You shifted slightly to get more comfortable, and before you realized it, your head had drifted sideways onto Taehyung’s shoulder.
“Ah—sorry,” you whispered, snapping upright, cheeks heating.
He gave a small, warm smile and gently patted his shoulder. “I don’t mind,” he said softly, his voice low, carrying just the faintest teasing note, enough to make you flustered but not embarrassed.
You tried to sit normally, but after a minute, your head slowly drifted back against him again. Each time it happened, you flinched upright, heart racing. Each time, he just offered the same soft smile and light pat, like a silent, comforting nudge that you could relax.
Finally, you let yourself take him up on his unspoken offer. You leaned lightly against him, and he rested his head against the window, eyes half-closed. The two of you drifted into a quiet rhythm, dozing side by side.
The hum of the road and the occasional conversation from the front seat faded around you. By the time the trees thickened and the smell of pine filled the air, the ride had settled into a calm ride with a gentle warmth lingering between the two of you.
After a few hours of driving, the car finally rolled up to the campsite, and the first thing that hit you was the scent of pine and damp earth, mixed with the faint smoke of distant campfires. Sunlight streamed through the trees, dappling the ground with golden patches. The air was crisp, with a slight chill hinting at the evening to come.
Everyone spilled out of the cars, stretching limbs, hauling bags, and joking loudly. The space was bigger than you’d expected. It was an open clearing surrounded by tall pines, with a small creek gurgling nearby.
You grabbed your bag and followed the group toward the designated camping area. You spotted Taehyung and Jimin unloading supplies together, moving with that easy coordination that only longtime friends seemed to have.
“Looks like a lot of tents are going up,” Rei murmured beside you, scanning the clearing.
“Yeah,” you said, taking a deep breath. “It’s actually quite perfect.”
While everyone started setting up, you found yourself helping lay out sleeping bags and stakes. Taehyung was nearby, hammering tent poles into the ground, and every so often your hands brushed against his as you handed him something. You tried to pretend it didn’t make your chest flutter.
Finally, the tent assignments were sorted. You and Rei were sharing one, Seol and a couple others had theirs, and the rest of the group fanned out among the remaining spaces.
As you rolled out your sleeping bag inside your tent, the soft rustle of canvas around you and the faint laughter from the others outside made everything feel cozy.
A few moments later, you emerged to help secure the last stakes, and Taehyung caught your eye as he finished hammering one. “Need a hand?” he asked casually, offering a small smile.
“Thanks,” you replied, brushing your hair back. “I’ve got it.”
He leaned against the tent, relaxed, watching you for a beat longer than necessary. You felt that subtle heat again, the same one from the car ride, but kept yourself busy, pretending to focus entirely on the task at hand. And not your very hot brother’s best friend who was examining your every move.
By the time the tents were all up and the group had gathered to admire their handiwork, the sun had started to dip. The air had grown slightly cooler, and you pulled your hoodie tighter.
Not long after, Yoona suggested a game. Then another voice chimed in, louder, more excited. A race through the spring in teams of two, one person piggy-backing the other. Groans and cheers mixed together as the idea took shape, competitiveness sparking almost instantly.
People paired off quickly, like it had all been silently decided beforehand. Rei was already laughing with Hoseok. Jimin and Jungkook arguing about rules that didn’t exist yet. You lingered near the edge, pretending to fix your sleeve until you realized there was only one person left doing the same.
Taehyung glanced over at you, eyes flicking down briefly before meeting yours again with a soft smile.
“Looks like it’s us.”
You changed into your swimsuit along everyone else, deciding on a floral two piece you'd brought. When you came back out, Taehyung was already there in tropical swim trunks, shirt nowhere to be seen.
“Hop on,” he said easily, ducking lower for you to easily mount yourself on.
You hesitated for half a second before stepping closer. His hands found your thighs as you climbed onto his back, fingers firm, grounding. The contact sent a quiet jolt through you, heat against bare skin, his grip confident like he’d done this before. Your arms looped around his shoulders, closer than you meant to be.
“You good?” he asked, voice lower now, almost amused.
“Yeah,” you replied, trying to sound steady. “Just, don’t drop me.”
He laughed, adjusting his hold slightly, pulling you in. “Lean back too much and we’re both going down,” he teased.
You rolled your eyes, but leaned closer anyway, your cheek near his shoulder.
“Try not to show off,” you muttered.
“No promises.”
Namjoon shouted for everyone to get into position. The chatter grew louder, tension building as feet splashed into the shallow spring. Taehyung shifted beneath you, muscles tightening, ready.
And then—
“Go!”
The race exploded into motion.
The race was chaos from the start. You had to sprint through the shallow spring, dodging rocks and roots, all while trying to keep your balance on Taehyung’s back. He grinned, clearly enjoying the challenge as he led you by shouting out specific directions.
You were amazed by his agility and speed, and couldn’t help but take in the view of his broad shoulders your hands were wrapped around.
At some point, a sharp sting flared along your leg, probably from a hidden rock or something, but you ignored it. Nothing could slow you down, not now.
You could hear Rei and Hoseok laughing as they splashed through the water, Seol and Jimin not far behind, and even Yoongi and Yuri making grunting, exaggerated faces as they struggled to keep pace.
Finally, the finish line, a flat patch of grass by the water’s edge, came into view. Taehyung surged forward with a final push, and you crossed it, panting, laughing, and soaked from head to toe. He slowed to a stop, gently lowering you to the bank.
You stepped off, feeling the sting in your leg more clearly now. Taehyung’s eyes flicked down instantly.
“Hey, wait. Sit down,” he said, crouching in front of you, concern breaking through his easygoing tone. He held your leg gently, inspecting the scrape. “Uh… this is deeper than I thought.”
You winced, realizing it really was more than just a scratch. “It’s fine, trust me,” you murmured, but he wasn’t having it.
“Yeah, fine isn’t what this looks like,” he said, voice soft but firm. “Stay still, okay?”
You let him help you sit on a nearby rock, careful not to lean too much on your injured leg. Before you could say anything else, hurried footsteps splashed through the water.
“What happened?” Jimin asked, already crouching beside you, eyes flicking between your leg and Taehyung. “You okay?”
“I’m fine,” you said quickly. “Just scraped it on a rock.”
Jimin squinted at the wound, then slowly looked at Taehyung. “You had one job.”
Taehyung lifted his hands in surrender, a guilty smile tugging at his lips. “Hey, I didn’t push her into the river.”
“Debatable,” Jimin muttered, though the edge of a grin gave him away. “If she ends up limping all weekend, I’m blaming you.”
Rei hovered nearby, frowning. “It looks like it stings.”
“Only a teeny bit,” you admitted, then waved them off. “But really, I’m okay.”
Taehyung focused again, cleaning the scrape with careful fingers, his touch gentler than you expected. “Still,” he said quietly, eyes fixed on your leg. “I’m sorry.”
You met his gaze and shrugged lightly, a small smile forming despite yourself. “Occupational hazard of agreeing to a race like that.”
He stayed crouched in front of you, focused on your leg as he worked, shoulders rolling subtly each time he shifted. Shirtless, still damp from the spring,
Your gaze dropped without permission, tracing the lines of his stomach, the way his abs tensed when he leaned closer. You stared a second too long. Long enough to feel the heat crawl back up your neck, long enough to forget where you were, who else was around.
He adjusted his grip, thumb steadying your leg, and you became acutely aware of how close he was, how his hands felt grounding and dangerous all at once.
You forced your eyes away, suddenly very interested in literally anything else.
Too late.
He glanced up, catching the way you froze, the way your attention snapped back to your face just a beat too slow. One corner of his mouth tugged upward, amusement flickering through his eyes.
“At least someone’s distracted,” he said lightly, tone playful, almost teasing.
Your heart stuttered.
“Focus,” you shot back, trying for casual and landing somewhere shaky instead.
He chuckled softly and returned his attention to your leg, but the air had shifted. The atmosphere between you started feeling far heavier, every small movement louder than it should’ve been. And even with his eyes down, you had the distinct, unnerving feeling that he was very aware of exactly what he’d just done to you.
And worse — that he liked it.
By the time the bandage was secured, your leg throbbed but the pain was manageable. You stood carefully, testing it. “All good,” you said, more to reassure yourself than anyone else.
“Good,” he said, standing as well, brushing off his hands. “And no more random rock attacks from me, promise.”
You smiled. “I’ll hold you to that.”
“Alright, alright,” Jimin called out, stepping between the two of you. “First aid is done. You can stop flirting with my sister now.” Taehyung rolled his eyes at the comment, arms crossed.
You couldn’t help but grin at the exchange, shaking your head. The scrape went forgotten for the moment and the playful energy between everyone made the campsite feel lighter again.
The fire had burned down to a steady glow by the time everyone finally settled into a loose circle, marshmallows skewered on sticks, jackets shrugged on against the night chill. The forest felt quieter now, no whistles, no shouts, just crackling wood and low laughter.
Blankets were spread unevenly in the dirt, some people sitting cross-legged, others stretched out on logs or leaning back on their hands. Someone passed around a small cooler, beer bottles clinking quietly as drinks were handed out, nothing fancy, just enough to warm everyone from the inside. The smell of smoke clung to clothes and hair, mixing with the smell of toasted sugar from half-melted marshmallows.
You noticed Taehyung sat across the fire, one knee pulled up, drink resting loosely in his hand. Seokjin and Yoona were close enough to share a blanket, murmuring to each other. Hoseok sprawled comfortably near the firelight, already grinning like he knew trouble was coming. Jimin dropped down beside you with a dramatic sigh, nudging your knee with his own as he reached for his drink.
It was then that Namjoon, who had somehow become the unofficial leader of your friend group over the years, shifted where he sat and stood up, lifting his bottle to get everyone’s attention.
“Alright, everyone! It’s time for some truth or dare.” He tipped the bottle slightly as a chorus of reactions followed. “No truth? You drink. You back out of a dare?” He shrugged. “Also drink. And yes, people are allowed to be evil, but not that evil.”
Hoseok perked up instantly. “So chaos. But, like, safe chaos.”
“Exactly,” Namjoon said, lowering himself back down to place a bottle near the center of everyone. “Alright. Who’s starting?”
With the flick of Namjoon’s hand, the bottle spun, glass catching firelight as it circled, before landing on Yoona.
“Okay, truth or dare,” He announced, fidgeting with the empty bottle in the dirt.
She groaned, already smiling. “Dare. I’m not emotionally strong enough for truth right now.”
Light laughter rippled around the circle.
Namjoon leaned back on his hands, eyes glinting. “Okay,” he said thoughtfully, like he was choosing a dessert. “I dare you to kiss someone who you think is the hottest person here.”
A beat of silence.
Yoona blinked. “That’s evil.”
“Thank you,” Namjoon replied, proud.
Her gaze flicked around the circle once, quick, almost shy, before landing on Seokjin. His brows lifted in surprise just as she scooted closer, closing the distance with a confidence that made a few people whistle.
Her lips met his in a quick, teasing brush at first, soft and deliberate, making Seokjin blink in mild shock. Everyone was leaning forward, eyes wide, whispering and nudging each other, clearly thrilled to witness the bold moment.
You glanced over at Taehyung who was watching it all quietly from across the fire, the glow reflecting in his eyes. He looked relaxed, but his attention drifted, lingering on you longer than necessary before glancing away again.
The game continued innocently enough. Hoseok dared Seol to feed Jimin a marshmallow using only her mouth. Yoongi dared Yuri to sing a cheesy love song in a dramatic voice, prompting giggles and mock groans. Hoseok ended up kissing Rei on a dare, while Namjoon and Yuri shared a quick, teasing peck. Laughter rippled around the circle as the dares grew bolder and more playful, the firelight glinting off flushed cheeks.
When it was your turn, Seol’s eyes sparkled as she leaned forward. “Truth or dare?”
“Truth,” you said cautiously.
“Hmm…” Seol said, grinning. “Have you ever had a crush on anyone here?”
You froze internally, heart hammering. Everyone was watching, a few teasing smirks catching your eye. You hesitated, just a fraction too long.
“Looks like someone’s drinking!” Hoseok piped up, pointing at you. You sighed, taking the shot quickly, cheeks burning, muttering under your breath. You could feel Taehyung’s eyes on you but quickly glanced past him, though you immediately knocked yourself over how suspicious it looked.
A few more turns passed, each dare playful and flirty. Until the bottle spun again, slower this time, shaking around before finally stopping.
Pointing straight at Taehyung.
The reaction was immediate, low whistles, laughter, someone muttering, “Oh, this should be good.”
Taehyung glanced down at the bottle, then up at Yuri, who was already amused upon the selection of her victim. “Truth or dare.”
Taehyung didn’t even pretend to think. “Dare.”
Yuri leaned forward, elbows on her knees, clearly enjoying this far too much. “Okay,” she said. “Ten-second makeout session. Your choice, with one of the girls here.”
The fire cracked loudly, embers flaring as the words settled over the circle.
Taehyung’s facial expression has a subtle sense of surprise, but he stood anyway.
His gaze swept the group once, unhurried, almost thoughtful. And then it landed on you, and stayed there.
Your stomach dropped.
He didn’t say your name. He just walked toward you, calm, deliberate, like the decision had been obvious all along.
Jimin sputtered. “I can’t watch this.”
Before he could do anything dramatic, Yoongi reached over and covered Jimin’s eyes with one hand. “For your own health,” he said dryly.
“HEY—” Jimin protested blindly.
Taehyung stopped right in front of you. Up close, the light caught in his eyes, warm and steady. He hesitated just a second, long enough to be sure, before lifting one hand to your cheek, thumb brushing lightly along your jaw. The gesture pushed your hair back, feeling just the warmth of his hand along your face and nothing else.
The touch alone made your breaths feel heavy.
His other hand settled at your waist, firm but careful, anchoring you as he leaned in.
When his lips met yours, it wasn’t rushed.
It was slow and confident, his mouth warm against yours, the kiss deepening almost immediately. You could feel the heat of him everywhere, the hand at your waist pulling you closer, the way his thumb pressed gently at your cheek as if he didn’t want to let go.
Someone started counting.
“One… two… three…”
You barely heard it.
The kiss grew more intense, unhurried and sure. When you shifted closer without thinking, he adjusted easily, fingers tightening just slightly at your waist.
“…eight… nine… ten—”
“Time!” Hoseok called.
Taehyung didn’t pull away.
Not right away.
The count stretched. Laughter rose, someone shouting, “HEY—THAT’S PAST TEN.”
Only then did Taehyung finally break the kiss, forehead resting briefly against yours as he breathed out a quiet laugh. His hands lingered, one last squeeze at your waist, one last brush of his thumb along your cheek, before he stepped back, licking his lips.
Your lips were tingling. Your heart was racing.
The circle erupted.
“FIFTEEN SECONDS,” one of the boys yelled, yet you couldn’t tell who.
“Easily twenty,” Yoona added.
Yoongi uncovered Jimin’s eyes.
Jimin blinked, looked between you and Taehyung, then groaned. “I leave you alone for five minutes.”
Taehyung ran a hand through his hair, suddenly flustered now that the moment was over, ears faintly pink. “Hey, it was just a dare,” he said again, but this time it sounded less convincing.
The looks around the fire said everything.
And when Taehyung finally met your eyes again, his smile was softer, still teasing, still warm, but unmistakably real.
Many drinks later, the game slowly dissolved into something looser and less structured. The bottle was forgotten somewhere in the dirt, abandoned in favor of laughter that came too easily and conversations that drifted wherever they wanted.
Someone had pulled out skewers of meat and vegetables, passing them around the fire. Pieces of marinated beef sizzled over the flames, the smell rich and smoky, making everyone groan with hunger all over again. Grease crackled as it dripped into the fire, sparks jumping and drawing half-drunken cheers.
People sat closer now without realizing it—shoulders touching, knees brushing, blankets shared without question. Seokjin insisted on “supervising” the cooking, dramatically flipping skewers like he was running a restaurant, while Yoona leaned against him, laughing every time he overdid it. Hoseok was animated as ever, retelling some story with exaggerated gestures, nearly knocking over his drink in the process. Yoongi sat back with Yuri, quietly amused, offering commentary only when it counted.
You, slightly tipsy yourself, noticed Rei wobbling as she tried to stand, clearly far too drunk to manage it on her own. “Here,” you murmured, sliding an arm around her back and using your own weight to steady her. “Let’s get you back to the tent.”
“Alright, alright,” Taehyung said from the side, smirking. “You’re not carrying her all the way to the tent on your own, are you?”
“Don’t worry, I–I’ve got her,” you slurred, arms flailing and hair falling into your face as you tried to assert control. “You u–underestimate… my abilities.”
“Sure,” he said, tilting his head, eyes gleaming with amusement. “The one who’d probably tumble flat on the ground if I so much as poked you.”
Without thinking, you pressed a finger to his lips as if to shush him. Just one, soft, almost instinctive. The moment you felt the warmth of his lips against your finger, your chest tightened a little. Your hand froze, the small, steady pressure of him there making you instinctively relax against him. His eyes followed your finger, calm and amused, the faintest smile tugging at his lips.
“Fine,” you exhaled slowly, letting your arms drop a fraction, shoulders loosening, letting him guide both you and Rei without protest. You didn’t resist when he subtly steadied you, his presence pressing close in the quiet night.
With a faint chuckle, he stepped closer, supporting both you and Rei as you made your way back to your tents. The night was quiet except for your careful steps and Rei’s occasional mumbles. Once inside your tent, you tucked Rei in, making sure she was settled before pulling the sheets around yourself.
“Thanks… for the, uh, v–very unneeded help,” you said, voice soft but teasing, curling up under the warmth of the sheets.
Part of you wanted to bring up the kiss from earlier, but you turned just in time to see Rei stirring, half-awake and mumbling incoherently. You decided against it, letting the thought slide.
Taehyung gave a small grin, ruffling your hair gently. “Goodnight,” he said, before stepping out of the tent, leaving you to your warmth and thoughts.
You snuggled deeper under the sheets, the warmth of the tent wrapping around you as your thoughts drifted. Taehyung’s presence lingered, from the way he’d teased you earlier to the way he’d silently supported both you and Rei back to the tent. Every brush of his hands against yours, every casual touch, felt amplified now in the quiet of your room.
It was reckless, maybe a little dangerous to let yourself dwell on it, but the memory of his easy grin and the warmth of his presence made it impossible not to.
Your heart thumped a little faster, and you buried your face in your pillow, exhaling softly. He had this way of getting under your skin without even trying, and tonight, with all the closeness and teasing, the feeling was stronger than ever. You couldn’t deny it, and for a moment, you allowed yourself to savor it before falling toward sleep.
The next day, the morning sun filtered softly through the tall trees, painting the campsite in golden streaks that woke you up. The fire from last night had burned down to embers and the faint smell of smoke was still lingering in the crisp air.
You yawned, stretching, and rubbed your eyes as Rei bounced up beside you, bright-eyed and slightly mischievous. “We have to talk,” she whispered, tugging at your arm.
“About what?” you asked groggily, trying to keep your voice calm.
“That kiss, duh,” she said bluntly, rolling her eyes. “Last night. Come on—you can’t just brush it off.”
You groaned, burying your face in your hands. “It was just a dare. He’s confident; that’s just how he is.”
Rei smirked, leaning closer conspiratorially. “Yeah, a kiss with your brother’s hot best friend. What did I tell you? This is your chance.”
You shook your head, laughing softly, though your cheeks heated. “Rei, you’re terrible.”
“Terrible? I’m giving you solid advice,” she teased, nudging you. “Don’t blow it!”
You rolled your eyes, still chuckling, but couldn’t help stealing a glance toward where Taehyung and Jimin were doing a quick check of their gear. He caught your eye for a second, giving a small, almost imperceptible smirk before focusing on Jimin again. You felt your heart skip just a beat.
Rei, clearly satisfied she’d made her point, let you go and bounced off to grab a coffee from the cooler. You shook your head, sipping your own, still feeling a little flustered, and tried to focus on breakfast preparations.
The group gathered near the remnants of last night’s fire, blankets and logs rearranged into makeshift seating. Breakfast smelled like toast and sizzling bacon, with mugs of coffee and hot chocolate steaming in the cool morning air.
You sat beside Rei, still catching glimpses of Taehyung across the way. Somehow, even while casually eating, his presence made you feel something. He caught your glance and offered a subtle nod, which made your stomach twist into knots.
Jimin leaned in, nudging your shoulder. “Feeling better this morning?” he asked, voice teasing but kind.
“I’m fine,” you said quickly, brushing it off. Rei snickered beside you.
“You’re so not fine,” she whispered quietly to you. “And yes, he’s making you blush already.”
You shot her a look but couldn’t hide your grin. The moment was interrupted as you heard Namjoon’s voice in the distance.
After calling everyone together, he stood tall holding a laminated list of items. “Alright, teams!” he announced. “Scavenger hunt time. Each team collects these items from all around the camp and nearby forest. Bonus points for speed and creativity. The first team back with everything wins.”
Everyone groaned and laughed at the thought of racing around in the woods.
Rei grabbed your hand playfully. “Come on, let’s crush them,” she said, already leading the way toward the first checkpoint.
The rest of the hunt was filled with the rustling of leaves and playful competition. You and Rei darted across shallow streams, clambered over rocks, and bent to gather pinecones, twigs, and other items on the checklist.
After a long morning of searching, running, and scrambling over rocks and roots, you and Rei finally reached the final checkpoint, breathless and laughing. You looked around, realizing you were the first to arrive.
“We made it!” Rei cheered, throwing her arms up in triumph. You mirrored her excitement, grinning widely as the thrill of winning washed over you. A victorious high-five connected, and the forest seemed to echo with your laughter, the mix of exhaustion and exhilaration buzzing through your veins.
By the time the rest of the teams trickled back, the sun had fully set, leaving the clearing bathed in the dusky glow of twilight. The others were already snacking, some chatting and laughing as they settled in for the evening. A few of the boys had started a fire, but the pile of logs was sparse, and the flames barely reached high enough to warm everyone.
Jimin called out, his voice carrying over the chatter. “We need more sticks!”
Without hesitation, you raised your hand. “I can go get some.”
“Hey, don’t go out there alone, it’s getting pretty dark already.” Jimin warned, glancing toward the darkening trees.
Yoongi, sitting nearby, nudged Taehyung lightly with his elbow. “Go with her, man.” Taehyung obliged with a nod before strolling over to your side.
You hesitated, suddenly aware of the situation, but the unspoken tension made it feel impossible to back out. “Uh… yeah, sure,” you muttered, trying to sound casual, and followed him toward the tree line, your steps crunching on the fallen leaves.
The forest seemed quieter now, the sounds of the camp fading behind you. Your heart raced slightly, part from the exertion and part from the awareness of walking beside him in the dim light.
“About last night…” he started. “Sorry if I went too far with the dare.”
You turned, brushing your hair back, smiling lightly. “No problem. You were… very committed, I’ll give you that.”
Taehyung’s eyes softened, and he stepped a fraction closer. “You didn’t seem like you hated it.”
“I didn’t,” you admitted, quietly, but shyly. You could tell he was seeking your gaze, but you didn’t have it in you to meet his.
“Good… wasn’t sure if you’d go along with it,” he teased.
“You’re lucky I’m… compliant,” you quipped, letting the words slip out with a playful edge.
“Compliant, huh? That sounds suspicious,” he said, stepping closer, closing the gap just enough to make your skin tingle.
You both paused, setting the sticks carefully against a nearby tree, taking a moment to catch your breath after bending and lifting. The quiet of the forest suddenly felt louder and you could almost hear the sound of your heartbeat in your chest. He shifted slightly, brushing lightly against your side as he guided you toward a sturdier tree. “I’m curious,” he murmured, low and teasing, “just how compliant you really are.”
You tilted your head, lips quirking, letting the pause stretch. “Depends…” you drawled, letting the words hang in the air, “…on how convincing you can be.” The playful tone in your voice couldn’t mask the heat that pooled between your legs.
His smirk deepened, eyes darkening slightly as he stepped closer, closing the distance entirely. “Oh? Is that a challenge?”
“Maybe it is,” you whispered, leaning back lightly against the tree, daring him to come closer.
His hand drifted along your waist, firm but teasing, and your pulse spiked at the contact. He leaned in slowly, and this time, hesitation melted away. When his lips met yours, it was soft at first, deliberate, teasing, the kind of kiss that made the world narrow down to just the two of you. His other hand shifted slightly, fingers brushing along your back as if he was memorizing your every curve.
Your hands went instinctively to his shoulders, holding on as the kiss deepened. His lips parted slightly, and when your lips parted in response, his tongue teased at yours, slipping in a little, testing. Your knees weakened, chest tightening as the heat between you flared, your thoughts melting into the sensation.
Time seemed to stretch. Your heartbeat continued drumming in your ears, the cool night air forgotten. You hadn’t even noticed how long you’d been pressed together until a voice called out suddenly from the clearing:
“Oh! I think that’s Taehyung! They’re back!”
You both jolted apart, eyes wide, fumbling for composure.
A few of the others, who’d wandered over from the fire, appeared. “It’s freezing out without the firewood,” Yuri said cheerfully. “Thought you guys might’ve gotten lost or something.”
You quickly shoved your hair back, trying to appear casual. Taehyung nodded at you, his smirk playful but restrained. He stepped back slightly, brushing ash from his hands. Then, smoothly, he turned to help Jimin with the fire, giving you a brief, teasing glance as if to say this isn’t over.
You exhaled, joining Rei and some of the other girls, laughing and chatting just enough to mask the way your heart was still racing. Taehyung settled beside Jimin near the fire, the two of them working together like nothing had happened at all. Still, the spark from earlier stayed present, warm and insistent in your chest.
As the night settled in, the group drifted into their own little pockets. Some people were focused on making s’mores, arguing over who’d burned theirs and who hadn’t. Others were deep in conversation while a few disappeared toward their tents entirely. The fire crackled steadily, casting a soft light over everything.
You stayed where you were, legs tucked in, simply soaking it all in. The warmth of the fire, the murmur of voices, the quiet hum of the forest around you. For a moment, it was easy to forget everything else.
A gentle tap on your shoulder pulled you out of your thoughts.
You turned, and there he was.
“Hey,” Taehyung said quietly, thumb hooking into his pocket like he wasn’t entirely sure how casual he wanted to be. “Can I steal you for a second?”
Your pulse skipped. “Steal me?” you echoed, eyebrow lifting.
“Borrow, then,” he corrected with a faint smile. “Promise I’ll bring you back.”
You hesitated only a second before nodding, standing and following him as he led you away from the firelight. His tent wasn’t far, tucked just enough out of view to feel private without being suspicious. He ducked inside first, holding the flap open for you.
Inside, it was dim and close, the air warmer somehow. You both sat, knees nearly touching, the quiet suddenly louder than the laughter outside.
“So,” you said softly, trying to sound unaffected. “This is where you tell me why I was stolen?”
He leaned back on one arm, studying you like he was taking his time. “I just… wanted to talk. Without an audience.”
“Dangerous,” you murmured, somewhat playful, though you knew there was some truth to your words. “You and me alone.”
His lips curved. “You didn’t seem too scared earlier.”
You shrugged lightly, eyes flicking to his mouth before you could stop yourself. “Maybe I like danger.”
That earned a low chuckle. He leaned forward just slightly, close enough now that you could really feel the warmth of him, his voice dropping awfully low. “You have no idea how hard you make it to behave.”
You didn’t miss a beat. “Then don’t.”
The word lingered between you, soft but deliberate. His smile shifted, something slower and more intent as his gaze flicked to your lips and back.
“Careful,” he murmured. “When you say things like that…”
The space between you shrank, not all at once, but inch by inch. His hand brushed yours, not quite holding it, just enough to make your skin buzz.
“Tell me to stop,” he said quietly, eyes searching yours.
You didn’t.
Instead, you leaned in the rest of the way.
His lips met yours in a slow, deliberate kiss, unhurried, like he was savoring the moment. It deepened naturally, warmth building as you shifted closer, hands finding familiar places without thinking.
“You taste so good,” he whispered against your lips, his voice husky with desire.
Before you could respond, he was tugging your top upward, breaking the kiss just long enough to pull it over your head. The cool tent air hit your exposed skin, but it was nothing compared to the heat of his gaze as his eyes roamed over you, taking in the lacy bra that barely contained your breasts.
"Fuck," he breathed, his thumbs brushing along the underside of your breasts. "You're gorgeous, you know that?"
He lowered his head, pressing soft kisses along your stomach, his tongue darting out to taste your skin. Each touch sent sparks through your body, making you arch against him. When his lips reached the edge of your bra, he paused, looking up at you with dark, hungry eyes.
But he didn't remove it. Instead, a wicked, knowing smirk played on his lips as he deliberately traced the lacy edge with his tongue, a slow, agonizing circle that had you squirming. He was intentionally teasing you, kissing all around the fabric, along the sensitive skin of your cleavage and the curve of your breast, pointedly avoiding where you needed him most. He knew exactly how badly you wanted him to just suck your tits, and he was savoring your desperation.
"Taehyung," you whimpered, your hands tangling in his hair, trying to guide him to your aching nipple. "Please..."
"Please what?" he murmured, his voice a low rumble against your skin. He nipped gently at the swell of your breast, his breath hot through the lace. "Tell me what you want."
"You know what I want," you breathed, your hips rocking against him in frustration.
"I want to hear you say it," he insisted, pressing a hot, open-mouthed kiss right beside your straining nipple, so close yet so far away. "I want to hear how badly you need it."
The deliberate torture was unbearable. Every fiber of your being was screaming for his mouth on you. "I want you to suck my tits," you finally gasped, the words torn from your throat. "God, Taehyung, please, just suck them." Your hands moved to your back to unclasp your bra but he swatted your hands away, his fingers expertly undoing the clasp himself.
"Good girl," he praised as he tossed the bra aside before taking your nipple into his mouth.
As his mouth continued its course on your breasts, his hand slid down your stomach, dipping beneath the waistband of your shorts. You were already wet, your body ready for him, and he groaned when his fingers brushed against your slick folds.
"Fuck, you're so wet for me," he said, his voice thick with satisfaction. "All this from a few kisses?"
You could only moan in response, arching your back and pushing your hips up to meet his hand. He rubbed slow circles around your clit, teasing you until you were squirming beneath him. He grinned widely at the sight, biting his lips.
Taehyung’s fingers slid into your wetness with intentional slowness, his touch both teasing and possessive. His thumb pressed against your clit, circling it in slow, maddening motions that made you pant at the mere feeling. His other hand cupped your breast, his fingers pinching your nipple just hard enough to send a strike of pleasure straight to your core.
At once, his fingers slipped out of you and right back up to his mouth where his tongue licked off the coat of your wetness from them.
“Fuck,” he groaned, voice rough. “You taste even better than I imagined.”
Your breath hitched.
Imagined.
That single word sent a shiver through you. Because Taehyung—your brother’s best friend, the guy who’d been in and out of your house since you were a kid, the one you’d stolen glances at when you thought no one was looking—had imagined this. Had thought about you.
And now here he was, shirtless, his cock straining against his pants, his fingers still glistening with you.
You’d had a crush on him for years. Ever since you were old enough to know what attraction was. The way he’d laugh with Jimin, the way his hands moved when he talked, the way he’d ruffle your hair like you were still a kid even when you weren’t. You’d buried it, ignored it, told yourself it was stupid.
But now?
Now he was looking at you like he wanted to devour you.
And you wanted him to.
Taehyung didn’t give you time to overthink it. In one smooth motion, he hooked his thumbs into the waistband of his pants and shoved them down, along with his pants. His kicked them aside as his cock sprang free, thick and hard, the tip already glistening.
Your mouth went dry.
He was big. Bigger than you’d expected. Bigger than you’d ever seen up close.
And he was looking at you like he knew exactly what he was about to do to you.
“Take those off,” he ordered, nodding at your shorts.
You obeyed without hesitation, shimmying out of them and your panties in one go. The cool air hit your wetness, making you gasp, but Taehyung didn’t give you time to feel exposed. He grabbed your hips and pulled you onto his lap, your bare thighs straddling his.
“Ride my thigh,” he murmured, his voice rough. “Show me how bad you want it.”
You hesitated for only a second before pressing your hips down, your slick heat dragging against the hard muscle of his thigh. The friction was incredible, sending feelings of immense pleasure straight to your clit.
“Fuck,” you gasped, your fingers digging into his shoulders.
Taehyung groaned, his hands tightening on your hips. “That’s it,” he growled. “Grind on me. Show me how wet you are.”
You obeyed, rocking your hips in slow, desperate circles, your clit dragging against his skin with every movement. The sensation was overwhelming—the way his thigh flexed beneath you and the way his cock twitched against your stomach.
“Taehyung,” you whimpered, your voice breaking as you felt yourself getting close, but not close enough. You wanted more. “I—I can’t—”
“You can,” he purred, his lips brushing your ear. “You’re doing so good. Look at you, riding my leg like a good girl.”
His words sent a fresh wave of satisfaction through you. You weren’t used to the name. You’d never been looked at like this, like you were something to be consumed, but you basked in the feeling.
You increased your pace, your hips rolling faster, your breath coming in sharp gasps. Taehyung’s hands slid up your back, pulling you closer, his mouth finding your neck. He kissed you there, slow and open-mouthed, his teeth grazing your skin just enough to make you shiver.
“God, you’re so fucking cute,” he groaned against your throat. “Soaking my thigh. Is this what you’ve been thinking about? Me touching you like this?”
“Y-yes,” you admitted, your voice barely a whisper.
“Say it,” he demanded, his fingers tangling in your hair, pulling just enough to make you gasp. “Tell me what you’ve been thinking about.”
You swallowed hard, your face burning. “I—I’ve thought about this,” you confessed. “About you. About you touching me. About—about this.”
Though you felt embarrassed to admit it, you definitely have. Only ever in fleeting thoughts, ones you tried your hardest to brush off, but you couldn’t deny that you did.
His mouth crashed onto yours as if to respond, his kiss hungry and desperate. You moaned into it, your hips still rolling against his thigh, your body trembling with need.
But it still wasn’t enough.
You broke the kiss, your breath coming in sharp gasps. “Taehyung,” you begged, your voice trembling. “I—I need your cock in me already. Please.”
His eyes darkened, his grip on your hips tightening. “You sure?” he murmured, his voice rough.
You nodded frantically. “I’m sure. Please, Taehyung. Fuck me.
Taehyung didn’t need to be told twice.
In one swift motion, he flipped you onto your back, his body covering yours. His cock pressed against your entrance, the tip sliding through your wetness, teasing you.
“Please,” you whimpered, your nails digging into his back.
He groaned, his forehead resting against yours. “Fuck, you’re killing me,” he growled.
Then, with one hard thrust, he buried himself inside you.
You cried out, your back arching off the tent floor as he filled you completely. He was big, stretching you in ways you’d never felt before, and for a second, you couldn’t breathe.
Taehyung stilled, his breath coming in sharp gasps. “You okay?” he murmured, his voice strained.
You nodded, your fingers digging into his shoulders. “Y-yes,” you gasped. “Just—just move.”
He groaned, his hips pulling back before slamming into you again. The sensation was overwhelming, the way his cock hit just the right spot inside you.
You moaned, your hips rising to meet his thrusts. “Taehyung,” you gasped. “Harder. Please, harder.”
He obeyed, his hips snapping against yours with a force that left you breathless. His hands gripped your hips, pulling you onto his cock with every thrust, his body slamming into yours with a roughness that sent you spiraling.
You were close. So close. Your body was trembling, your breath coming out sharply.
“Taehyung,” you whimpered. “I—I’m gonna—”
“Come for me,” he growled, his thrusts becoming erratic. “Come on my cock.”
The mere command sent you over the edge.
You moaned out, your body shuddering as wave after wave of pleasure crashed over you. Your pussy clenched around his cock, milking him, pulling him deeper.
Taehyung groaned, his own release following close behind. He thrusted into you one final time, his cock pulsing as he came, filling you with his warmth.
You both collapsed onto the tent floor, your bodies slick with sweat, your breaths being let out as ragged gasps. Taehyung pulled you into his arms, his lips pressing against your forehead in a soft, tender kiss.
“That was incredible,” he murmured, his voice filled with satisfaction.
You smiled, snuggling closer to him. “It was,” you agreed, your voice soft.
You lay there for a while, enjoying the afterglow, the sound of your breathing slowly returning to normal. Taehyung's fingers traced lazy patterns on your skin, his touch gentle and soothing.
The peaceful moment was interrupted by voices outside.
"Where's Y/N and Taehyung?" someone called out, the sound getting closer.
Your eyes met his in panic. Without a word, you both scrambled for your clothes, dressing as quickly as possible. You smoothed your hair down with trembling fingers.
You slipped out, trying to appear casual as you rejoined the group.
"There you are!" Jimin exclaimed. "We were wondering where you two disappeared to."
You chuckled, keeping your voice light. "Just needed some fresh air."
Taehyung appeared moments later, looking frustratingly composed despite what had just happened between you.
"And what about you?" Seokjin asked him with a raised eyebrow.
"Same," Taehyung said with a shrug, but his eyes found yours across the room, a secret smile playing on his lips.
As the group resumed their conversation, Rei sidled up beside you.
"So... fresh air, huh?" she whispered, nudging your side gently.
You couldn't help the blush that crept up your cheeks. "Something like that."
She studied your face for a moment before her eyes widened in realization. "Oh my god," she whispered, a delighted smile spreading across her face. "Finally!"
Later, as the group dispersed into smaller conversations, Taehyung managed to pass by you. His fingers gently brushed against yours, a touch so brief anyone else would have missed it.
"We should get lost together more often." he joked. His eyes met yours, warm and tender with just a hint of mischief. "Next time, I want to take my time with you. No interruptions, okay?"
You felt your lips curve into a smile that mirrored his own, a silent agreement passing between you.
a/n: yay you made it! lmk what you think of this one and check out my other stuff <3
"Grief doesn't rot like lilies—it evolves. Sometimes into walls that keep everyone out, sometimes into bridges you never expected to build. Madrid is teaching you the difference."
next | index | wc: 8.5k
↦author's note : Hello monsters, gremlins, goblins, and yes—you, the one under the table hoarding the peanut cookies like they're State Secrets. You've been reported to the Kiki Nation High Tribunal. Formal charges include: cookie hoarding, suspicious crunching noises, and bribing witnesses with chocolate chip alternatives. Justice will be served. Possibly with milk. Now, AS FOR THIS CHAPTER. AHAHAAHA. Okay. So. Right out the gate we start with That Scene. You'll know when you see it. Some of you may be tempted to go "Kiki why did you put your entire kikussy into poetic and ambiguous language???" and to that I say: THANK YOU FOR ASKING, MR. INVISIBLE. You see—my girl Y/N is grieving. And not in the cinematic way, but in that awful, quiet, dissonant way. The kind where everything looks almost normal, sounds almost right, but you're not in it. That suspended, floaty, untethered state where you're just... drifting. I wrote this opening with the intent to evoke, not explain. Because I don't think grief—real grief—ever makes clean narrative sense. It's messy. It loops. It aches. It dissociates. So her inner monologue reflects that. BUT. I didn't want it to be bleak. So I slipped in a little light: female friendship. You guys know how much I value it. Sofia Zhu = my babygirl already. Her screen time may be short but her impact is earthquaking. Also: brace yourselves for the physio intern. I'm not spoiling anything but AAAAA. The little scream I let out when writing him was medically concerning. Just know you're gonna love him. I do. I really do. Then there's that Taehyung scene. The physio session. Yeah. That one. Okay so—Coke Zero? TRACK IT. It is not a throwaway. Put it in your mental detective wall with the red string. That detail's doing work. Now let's talk about what's really happening in that scene: you've got a man weaponizing his body as a final line of defense. He can't stand the thought of being unimpressive—of someone not reacting to him. So what does he do? He performs. Gets obscene. Pushes boundaries. Pokes at discomfort. He's like: if you don't like my mind, my attitude, my words—then at least flinch for my abs. Validate me with your silence, if nothing else. And she doesn't. And it bothers him. He's fishing. And if that doesn't tell you everything about the man's psyche—Listen. I said what I said. Also. Can we collectively scream about how every private university is just a glorified capitalist PR firm?? I wanted to reflect that weird, fake "we're all a happy family :)" collaboration tone between institutions. The smiley emoji energy that reeks of Excel spreadsheets and nepotism. If you know, you know. Finally: THE GROUP CHAT SCENE. My ✨ magnum opus ✨ Marco is literally an idiot and possibly irredeemable but I hate how funny he is. It's the banter. The banter is what gets him laid. Leo = my Shayla. I want to protect him so bad. Who knows if I will. Point is—I loved being able to start showing more team names and dynamics. There's something really special about letting a cast feel lived in. You're only seeing glimpses—but those glimpses are building a very specific emotional architecture for what's to come. ANYWAY. That's enough from me. Enjoy the chapter. Scream in the tags. Track the Coke Zero. And for the love of Jungkook's tattoos, STOP HIDING THE PEANUT COOKIES. I SEE YOU. – Kiki ♥
Where do promises go when left unattended?
You wonder if they rot, like lilies left too long in water. Or if they just fade, the way the scent of your mother's perfume used to linger in the hallway—now gone, replaced by the sterile tang of Madrid tap water and overpriced detergent.
It's a question you've long buried, somewhere between the unpacked boxes in your Madrid bedroom and the ache that still sits heavy when you think of your dad's tired eyes.
Or maybe it's bigger than that—your whole damn life, a scrapbook of sweet nothings you swore you'd keep. Staying in Barcelona. Holding tight to Mom's hand in memory. Rooting for a team that felt more like family when yours got ripped in half.
Death didn't just knock that day; it kicked the door down, left the air thick with something sour, like rotting lilies.
Mom used to fill the house with them.
White ones from the market on Sundays, yellow ones she'd steal from the neighbor's garden when she thought no one was looking.
Now you can't walk past a flower shop without your throat closing up, without that familiar knot threatening to crawl up and spill everything you've been swallowing down.
University isn't the escape you hoped for. Not the endless readings on joint mechanics, not the sterile newness of a city that still feels like a borrowed coat, and definitely not the present, which drags like a bad hangover.
You're two weeks into this Madrid experiment, and every day is a reminder of what's gone.
But then, somehow, there are people. Small, unexpected pockets of something lighter that make it easier.
You just never expected easiness to have a name like Sofia Zhu.
You're slouched in a lecture hall at UEM, campus filled with the kind of international crowd that makes you feel both invisible and exposed. End of September, semester just kicking off, and the air's got that crisp edge that doesn't match the heat still clinging to the streets outside.
Sofia's next to you, scribbling in her notebook with a focus that's almost annoying. Almost. Meanwhile you—well, you're scrolling through your phone, thumb flicking over a screen that's stubbornly empty of anything worth reading.
No messages from Dani.
Not that you expected any.
You told yourself the distance—geographical, emotional, whatever—would be the perfect excuse to untangle the mess of feelings you've carried for him since you were sixteen. Unreciprocated, unspoken, and now, unnecessary.
Doesn't stop the sting, though. Expected hurt still hurts.
Your fingers drift to Jungkook's chat instead. A few unread messages, probably memes or some random check-in. He's the only thing that feels like home lately, a tether to Barcelona that hasn't snapped yet.
You don't open it. Not here. Not with Sofia's voice cutting through your haze.
"I have never seen anyone our age swallow down those in twos like you do," she mumbles, not looking up from her notes when her pen scratches against the paper, somehow grounding.
You know she's talking about the pikotas in your hand, the sour-sweet candies you've been popping absentmindedly.
Two at a time, always. A habit from forever ago, when Mom would slip them into your pocket before school.
You don't miss a beat, tossing another pair into your mouth. "Just say you have horrible taste."
She snorts, finally glancing over. Her dark hair falls in a neat curtain over one shoulder, and her eyes crinkle just enough to show she's not actually judging.
"I'm half Chinese. Taste is like, our whole point."
You roll your eyes, but there's a smirk tugging at your lips.
Sofia's got a way of sneaking past your usual walls, not with force but with this quiet, persistent ease.
You met her two weeks ago, first day of classes, when the semester started and you were still figuring out how to navigate the sleek, expensive campus. Because it's just the kind of place that screams privilege—private, international, one of the most expensive universities in Spain, all courses in English to cater to the global mix of students who can afford it.
You were sitting alone in the back of a lecture hall, trying to blend into the polished wood and glass, when she plopped down next to you. No hesitation, just a quick "Mind if I sit?" and a grin that didn't wait for your answer.
She clocked your last name on your notebook, matched it to the buzz about your dad being Real Madrid's new physio, and didn't make a big deal of it. Just nodded like it was trivia, not gossip.
You appreciated that more than you let on.
Since then, she's been a constant. Study sessions in the campus library, coffee runs at the overpriced café downstairs, late-night texts about assignments. She's Madrid-born, Chinese-Spanish, a sports psychology major with a sharp mind and an even sharper tongue when she wants. She knows about your dad's job, knows you're fresh off the boat from Barcelona, and hasn't pushed for details.
That's why you don't mind her sitting here, filling the silence with her quiet banter while you chew through candy and memories.
Madrid's like that. Too much of everything—light, noise, space—and none of it fits right.
Not like Barcelona did, with its narrower streets and warmer shadows.
Still, at UEM, you're just another face in a sea of ambitious twenty-somethings, most of whom couldn't care less about football. Real Madrid, Barcelona—it's not their world. They're chasing MBAs, tech startups, international law degrees.
That, however, does not mean they don't know who Kim Taehyung is.
"Hey, speaking of taste—or lack thereof—have you seen the news this weekend? That whole scandal with Real Madrid's golden boy? Taehyung?"
Fuck Sofia for ruining your peace. You take all the good things you said about her back.
Of course she'd bring it up. Not because she's obsessed with football—most people here aren't—but because Taehyung's mess is everywhere. A superstar, a celebrity, the kind of hot that has women tripping over themselves and brands clawing for a piece of him.
His whole 'can't keep it in his pants' routine isn't even a flaw to most; it's charm, a marketable quirk that somehow makes him more desirable.
You've seen the headlines (who hasn't?), the grainy party pics, the lipstick smear on his neck that's got half of Madrid's press losing their minds.
Nike's 'concerned,' apparently.
You doubt he cares.
You shrug, keeping your face blank. "Yeah, I saw. Not exactly news when it's him."
Sofia raises a brow, catching the edge in your tone.
She doesn't know about your first run-in with him, the way he loomed at the training ground like he owned the air itself, expecting you to melt under his gaze; and you… Didn't.
Just stared back, flat and unimpressed, until he looked almost confused.
Which was honestly refreshing. He needs to get humbled.
But Sofia doesn't need that story, not yet. You're not sure why it even sticks in your head. It's not like he matters.
"Fair," she says, tapping her pen against her chin. "Still, it's wild. Guy's got the world at his feet, and he's out there acting like a frat boy on spring break. My psych prof would have a field day with his impulse control—or lack of it."
You huff a small laugh, more out of habit than amusement. "Probably. But it's not like anyone's surprised. That's just… him."
Her eyes narrow a fraction, like she's filing that comment away for later. You don't like how she does that, reads the unsaid stuff in your pauses. Makes you feel seen in ways you're not ready for.
You pop another pikota, let the sour bite ground you.
The lecture hall's still noisy, a guy two rows down arguing with his friend in rapid-fire German, a girl across the aisle snapping a selfie with her overpriced latte.
Normal. Disconnected from the football bubble you've been dragged into.
You wish you could stay in this pocket of mundane forever, where no one cares about football or your dad's job or the way some prick keeps jostling his dick around like it's a birthday party and his junk is a gift.
Your phone buzzes on the desk, screen lighting up with Jungkook's name.
A distraction. A lifeline.
A… video of a ferret stealing an entire sock drawer, dragging socks one by one to build a nest?
𝐉𝐊💙❤️: 𝚠𝚑𝚢 𝚒𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚘𝚜 𝚊𝚐𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚜
You snort—actually snort—loud enough that Sofia looks up from her notebook with raised eyebrows.
You pause, fingers hovering over the keyboard. He's talking about you, obviously. Those stupid chocolate croissants from the Barcelona training facility café that you'd get genuinely upset about when they sold out.
It feels like a lifetime ago—back when your biggest worry was missing breakfast pastries, not navigating the social minefield of Madrid's elite football culture.
You swallow thickly, staring at your screen for a couple seconds.
Because Jungkook's always been good at checking in without making it feel like an interrogation. He knows you well enough to understand that direct questions about your emotional state will get deflected, but asking about Madrid in general? That's safe territory.
𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚒𝚝'𝚜 𝚏𝚒𝚗𝚎
𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚍𝚒𝚏𝚏𝚎𝚛𝚎𝚗𝚝
𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚍𝚊𝚍'𝚜 𝚜𝚎𝚝𝚝𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚒𝚗 𝚠𝚎𝚕𝚕
𝐉𝐊💙❤️: 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚢𝚘𝚞?
𝐉𝐊💙❤️: 𝚜𝚎𝚝𝚝𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚒𝚗?
You chew the inside of your cheek, watching Sofia highlight something in yellow marker.
How do you explain that Madrid feels like wearing clothes that don't fit? That every day feels like you're playing a role you never auditioned for? That you miss the easy warmth of Barcelona so much it physically hurts sometimes?
Not the grief, not the homesickness, but something warmer.
A reminder that distance doesn't erase the connections that matter.
𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚕𝚘𝚟𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚝𝚘𝚘 𝚒𝚍𝚒𝚘𝚝
𝐉𝐊💙❤️: ❤️
You set your phone down, a sigh escaping your lips.
Madrid's still foreign, and two weeks in, and you're still mourning. Not just Mom, though that's a wound that never scabs over. It's Barcelona too. The team, the culture, the way Camp Nou felt like a second home. The way Dani smiled without agenda, the way Jungkook teased like a brother.
You're in Madrid by accident, by necessity, and every white jersey you see feels like a betrayal.
But then there's Sofia, a small, stubborn reminder that not everything here has to hurt.
You chew another candy, slower this time. Let the sourness linger.
Promises might wither when left alone, but maybe, just maybe, some things grow in their place.
You're not ready to name it. Not ready to trust it.
But for now, sitting here with Sofia's quiet scribbling as your backdrop, it's enough to keep you from sinking.
Traffic in Madrid is apparently a personal vendetta against punctuality.
Your dad's running twenty minutes late because some jackass decided the M-40 was the perfect place for a fender bender, which means you're here. Setting up his station. Organizing equipment you could identify with your eyes closed because you've been watching him work since you could walk.
The physio room's too clean, too sterile, too Real Madrid.
The Barcelona facility had character—scuff marks on the walls, that one massage table with the slightly wobbly leg that everyone avoided, the persistent smell of Bengay that had seeped into the paint over fifteen years.
This place looks like it was designed by people who've never actually treated an injury.
You're sorting through resistance bands when Namjoon appears in the doorway, looking like he's lost a fight with his textbooks. Again.
"Your dad said you might be here," he says, adjusting his glasses. "Traffic's insane out there."
Right. Namjoon.
You met him exactly nine days ago when he wandered into the wrong lecture hall and ended up sitting through your Sports Medicine seminar. Turned out he was supposed to be in another class but was too polite to leave once he realized his mistake. Also turned out he's doing his practicum here, shadowing the medical staff twice a week.
Small world. Smaller when your dad's the new guy everyone wants to impress.
"He's stuck near Cuatro Caminos," you say, testing the tension on an elastic band. "Should be here soon."
"Need help with anything?"
You gesture at the perfectly organized equipment. "It's just busy work. Dad's paranoid about first impressions."
Namjoon nods like he understands the pressure of being the new guy. Which he probably does, considering he transferred here from Seoul and still looks slightly shell-shocked by Spanish bureaucracy.
"I'll be in the film room if you need anything," he says. "Marco's apparently having issues with his hip flexor and wants to review some footage."
Of course Marco has issues. Guy probably pulled something showing off for whatever Instagram model he's currently terrorizing.
Namjoon disappears, leaving you alone with the antiseptic smell and the growing certainty that helping your dad was a mistake.
You should be back at UEM, pretending to study while Sofia explains the philosophical implications of biochemical reactions.
Instead, you're here. Instead, you're in enemy territory. Organizing equipment for people who think Barcelona is a quaint regional hobby.
The door opens again.
"Thought I saw the physio's…" The voice trails off.
You know that voice. Heard it exactly one week ago, asking if you knew his name like that was supposed to matter.
You don't look up. Keep sorting through the massage oils like they require your complete attention.
"…Daughter," Taehyung finishes, giving the Coke Zero in his hand one last sip. "Interesting."
"Riveting," you say to the bottles of arnica gel. "There's a Nobel Prize in it somewhere."
He laughs. Actually laughs, like you've said something amusing instead of dismissive. Then, leaves the can on the furniture near the door.
You look up.
Grave mistake.
He's shirtless again because of course he is. Apparently shirts are optional in his world, a suggestion rather than a requirement. Fresh scratch marks across his back, angry red lines that tell a very obvious story about his weekend activities.
Classy.
"Something wrong with your scapula?" you ask, because that's why people come here—medical issues.
Not to parade around half-naked making small talk with staff daughters.
"How'd you know?"
"Lucky guess."
He moves closer, traces of whatever shampoo he uses lingering in the air. It reminds you of lemons… And something else that's probably pheromones or whatever evolutionary bullshit makes objectively terrible men attractive to people with functioning ovaries.
"Your dad around?"
"Running late." You cap the massage oil, set it back in its designated spot. "You can wait."
"Or you could take a look."
You blink. "I'm not a physiotherapist."
"You know what you're doing." He's already settling onto the massage table, lying face down like the decision's been made. "Study the same stuff as your dad, should be the same no?"
"It's really not."
"How?"
Because studying and actually doing the work with your own hands is essentially different.
Because med students are not doctors.
And physio students aren't either.
But explaining that to Kim Taehyung would mean talking to a toddler. And you have better things to do than waste breath on a manchild.
"Because."
"Compelling argument."
You could leave. Should leave. Let him wait for your dad like a normal person.
But maybe it's the way he's so entitled, and acts like so. Maybe it's the need to put him in his place—especially when you don't even know where yours is.
So, you wash your hands.
"Where's the pain?"
"Right side. Under the shoulder blade. Been bothering me since Saturday."
Saturday. When he was making headlines for all the wrong reasons. When those scratch marks were being carved into his back by whatever random woman decided he was worth the trouble.
You approach the table, professional, detached. Just like you've seen Dad do a hundred million times before.
You place your hands on his back, feeling for tension, knots, the specific kind of tightness that comes from overcompensation.
His skin is warm. Firm.
The scratch marks are raised under your fingers, evidence of Saturday night's adventures literally written across his shoulders.
"Here?" You press against the scapula, finding the knot immediately.
"Mmm." The sound is low, almost a purr. "Yeah, right there."
You ignore the way he says it. Focus on the muscle. The problem. The solution.
"Probably compensation," you say, working your thumbs in small circles. "You favor your right side when you tackle. Puts extra stress on the stabilizing muscles."
"Hmmm." Another noise, drawn out and definitely unnecessary. "That feels… really good."
Your hands pause. "Are you making those sounds on purpose?"
"What sounds?"
But he's grinning into the table. You can hear it in his voice.
"The porn sounds."
"I don't know what you mean."
You resume working, digging deeper into the knot. He needs to learn that his little games don't work on everyone.
"Ah," he breathes when you hit a particularly tight spot. "Oh, fuck, that's—"
"Can you not?"
"Not what?"
"Sound like you're getting jerked off."
He turns his head, looking at you over his shoulder with that smirk that probably gets him everything he wants.
"Is that what it sounds like?"
"It sounds like you're doing it on purpose."
"Maybe I am."
"Well, don't."
He simply glances at you, smirk plastered all over his face.
You work in silence for a few minutes, focusing on the actual muscle tension instead of the idiot attached to it. The knot's stubborn, layers of compensation built up over weeks of training and whatever he does in his spare time that leaves scratch marks.
"Your weekend activities aren't helping," you say, pressing harder than strictly necessary.
"Mmhm." Another deliberate sound. "My weekend activities are very… thorough."
"I mean the scratches. They're affecting your posture."
"Ah." Like you've just told him something profound instead of basic anatomy. "The scratches."
"Unless you're wrestling with cats, you might want to tell your… companions… to be more careful."
He laughs, and you feel it vibrate through his back under your hands.
"I'll pass along the feedback."
The muscle finally starts to give, tension releasing under sustained pressure. You move your hands to the surrounding area, checking for related knots, secondary compensation patterns.
"Oh," he breathes when you hit another tight spot. "Yeah, that's… mmm."
"Jesus Christ."
"What?"
"Do you have to narrate everything?"
"I'm appreciative." His voice is muffled by the table but you can still hear the amusement. "Sue me for having good manners."
"This isn't appreciation. This you auditioning for a porno."
"Can't it be both?"
You press your elbow into the knot. Hard.
He chokes on whatever smart-ass comment he was about to make.
"Better," you say flatly.
"Fuck, okay, point taken."
The thing about Taehyung is that he's predictable. He pushes until he finds resistance, then pushes harder to see what happens.
Classic spoiled rich boy behavior—no understanding of boundaries because no one's ever enforced any.
You've met his type before. Barcelona had them too, though they usually had the decency to pretend they weren't entitled assholes.
"Turn around."
He does, and now you're face to face with his chest. Which is. Well. It's a chest. Perfectly sculpted, golden skin, the kind of definition that suggests both excellent genetics and obsessive gym habits.
You've seen better.
(That's a lie, but you're committed to it.)
"The problem's in your back," you say, positioning your hands on his shoulders from the front. "You're compensating with your anterior muscles."
"My what now?"
"Front muscles. Keep up."
He grins at that, like you've just confirmed some theory he's been testing.
"So you're saying I've been working too hard?"
"I'm saying you've been working wrong."
Your hands find the tight spots along his clavicle, pressing into the muscle tissue with more force than strictly necessary.
Indeed, he makes another sound—something between a gasp and a moan—and you seriously consider just walking out.
"That's definitely gonna leave marks," he says, looking down at where your thumbs are digging into his skin.
"Good. Maybe you'll remember proper form."
"Oh, I'll remember this."
The way he says it makes your skin crawl.
Not because it's gross—which it is—but because it sounds like he genuinely means it.
Which is worse, somehow.
You finish the treatment in relative silence, mostly because you've perfected the art of selective hearing. He tries a few more times to get a reaction, but you're done giving attention to his stupidities.
"Ice it for twenty minutes when you get home," you say, stepping back and washing your hands again. "Anti-inflammatories if the pain persists."
"That's it?"
"That's it."
You're already moving toward the sink, washing your hands again because touching him feels like it requires immediate sanitization.
"Your dad teach you anything else?"
"How to bill insurance companies."
He laughs. Again. Like you're actually funny instead of just sarcastic.
"Useful skill."
You dry your hands, not letting him out of your periphery because it feels dangerous, somehow. He's sitting behind you on the table. Shirtless. Fixed.
Still there.
Can he leave?
"Was there something else?"
"Just curious."
"About what?"
"You."
You muster all the oxygen in the room one breath. Inhale deeply. Exhale slowly.
"There's nothing to be curious about."
"I doubt that."
You turn around. He's still sitting on the table, legs dangling like a kid at the doctor's office. Except kids don't usually look like they've been sculpted by people with advanced degrees in human anatomy.
"I'm the physio's daughter. That's it. That's the whole story."
"The physio's daughter who transfers from Barcelona and acts like Real Madrid personally wronged her family."
"I don't act like anything."
"You act like we killed your dog."
"You didn't kill my dog."
"But you hate us anyway."
The worst thing is—he doesn't ask it like a question, just states it like it's a fact. Like he knows more than you're letting on.
"I don't hate anyone."
"Liar."
He doesn't know you enough to accuse you like that, especially when it's imbued in such friendly tone, like he's commenting on your coffee order instead of calling out your entire emotional state.
"I don't know you well enough to hate you."
"But you know enough to disapprove."
"I disapprove of a lot of things."
"Such as?"
"People who think the world revolves around them."
He grins. "Guilty."
"People who can't take a hint."
"Also guilty."
"People who make everything about sex."
"Depends on your definition of everything."
You stare at him. He stares back, completely unashamed. Like this is normal conversation instead of him basically admitting to being exactly the kind of person you despise.
"You're unbelievable."
"Thanks."
"That wasn't a compliment."
"I know."
He slides off, and it's always like this—moving like he's never doubted his welcome anywhere. Casually arrogant, lazily confident.
He's standing now, fingers tapping against the table in that absurd manner of people trying to look sexy.
Whether it works, you're not gonna comment.
But your dad's equipment suddenly feels very small, the space between you measured in inches instead of feet.
"I should go," he says, but doesn't move.
"Yes. You should."
He reaches for his shirt, hanging on a nearby chair. But instead of putting it on, he steps closer. Close enough that you can see the exact color of his eyes, the way his hair falls across his forehead, the small scar near his left eyebrow that probably has a story you don't want to know.
His hand moves, casual and way too quick, slipping into the pocket of your hoodie before you can react.
"Think I'll be borrowing one of these."
He pulls out a pikota, examining it like it's a rare artifact instead of candy you buy at any corner store.
"Those are mine."
"I know." He pops it into his mouth, chewing thoughtfully. "Sour. Interesting choice."
"Give it back."
"Can't. Already eaten."
"The rest of them."
"Finders keepers."
He's still standing too close, looking down at you with that smirk that suggests he knows exactly how inappropriate this is and doesn't care.
"Besides," he says, finally stepping back, "now I know what to call you."
"My name is—"
"Gominola."
Your brows knit in disbelief. There's just no way—no way—that Real Madrid's number two, Kim Taehyung, the arrogant prick standing in front of you, had the audacity to cut you off mid-name… only to nickname you Gominola.
"That's not my name."
"It is now."
He pulls on his shirt, covering the scratch marks and the evidence of whatever he does when he's not being a professional athlete.
"See you around, Gominola."
He's gone before you can respond—so you settle for cursing him inwardly, instead of outwardly.
But not quite gone.
Because the Coke Zero can is still sitting there on the counter like a monument to his casual disrespect for other people's spaces. Empty. Sweating condensation onto the pristine surface of your dad's equipment station.
Of course.
"Your trash," you call out, voice flat.
He pauses in the doorway, glances back at the can like he's seeing it for the first time.
"That's what you're here for, no?"
The audacity. The absolute fucking audacity.
"I'm not your maid."
"Hmmm… No?" He shrugs, casual as breathing. "Organizing equipment, cleaning up after people. Very maid-adjacent activities."
You stare at him. He stares back.
Neither of you moves.
Your eyebrow twitches—just once, a microscopic flicker of irritation that you can't quite suppress. It's involuntary. Reflexive. The kind of tell that gives away more than you'd like.
But he catches it. Of course he does.
"I like that," he says, leaning against the doorframe like he's settling in for a show. "That little frown you get. Right there." He gestures vaguely at your face. "Makes you look real cute when you're pissed off."
Cute.
He called you cute.
Like you're some pet that's learned a new trick. Like your irritation exists for his entertainment.
"Fascinating. I'll add that to the list of things I don't care about."
"Long list?"
"You'd be surprised."
He grins so bright, for a second you wonder if you just complimented his mother instead of basically telling him to fuck off.
"You know what? Keep the can." He straightens up, preparing to leave for real this time. "Consider it a memento."
"Of what?"
"Today. This conversation. The first time you touched me."
Your skin crawls inwards. Because the way he says it? It's not only sexual—though it definitely is—but it also sounds like he's already planning the sequel.
"It was a medical procedure."
"If you say so, Gomi."
And then he's actually gone, leaving you alone with his trash, his stupid nickname, and the lingering scent of lemons that somehow makes the entire room feel smaller.
You grab the can. Toss it in the bin with more force than strictly necessary.
The metal clangs against the sides, echoing in the silence.
Your eyebrow's still twitching.
Cute. Right.
You make a mental note to practice better facial control.
The last thing you need is Kim Taehyung thinking he has any effect on you whatsoever.
The thing about expensive universities is that they love attaching corporate logos to everything.
Like slapping a Nike swoosh on your degree somehow makes the crushing student debt more palatable. Or maybe it's the other way around—Nike gets to pretend they care about education while really just hunting for the next generation of athletes to exploit.
Either way, you're sitting in a lecture hall that's way too big listening to Professor García explain why this is such an 'incredible opportunity.'
"Nike has graciously agreed to sponsor a networking event for our Sports Science students," he says, gesturing at a PowerPoint slide that's probably older than some of the freshman. "This is exactly the kind of industry connection that makes UEM graduates so sought after."
You chew a pikota. Slowly. Let the sour-sweet dissolve on your tongue while Sofia scribbles notes like this is information worth remembering.
Corporate networking events.
Your favorite.
Right up there with root canals and Real Madrid training sessions.
"The event will be held next Friday at seven PM," he continues, clicking to the next slide. "Cocktail attire. Representatives from Nike's European division will be there, along with several prominent figures from Madrid's sports community."
Sofia elbows you. "This could be huge for internships."
"Thrilling," you say, not looking up from your notebook where you're not taking notes. Just doodling. Tiny ferrets stealing socks from faceless businessmen in suits.
"I'm serious. Nike sponsors half the football world. Imagine the connections."
The problem with Sofia is that she still believes in the system. Still thinks that networking and handshakes and business cards will somehow lead to meaningful careers instead of just more meetings with people who think they're important.
You've seen the system. Lived adjacent to it your entire life.
It's mostly bullshit wrapped in expensive suits.
"Plus," Sofia adds, leaning closer, "it's not like you have anything else going on Friday night."
What you hate about Sofia is that she is, often, not wrong.
And this time, she isn't either.
Your social calendar consists of studying, texting Jungkook, and watching your ferrets commit small crimes against your furniture.
Hardly the stuff of legends.
"Representatives from Madrid's sports community," you repeat, finally looking up. "That's vague."
"Probably Real Madrid players," says the guy sitting in front of you. Miguel something. Rich kid with a trust fund and opinions about everything. "My dad knows someone at Nike. Says they've got some big partnership thing happening."
Of course they do.
Because apparently there's no corner of your life that Real Madrid can't invade.
Not university. Not home. Not even corporate networking events that should theoretically have nothing to do with football.
"You okay?" Sofia asks, probably noticing the way your jaw's gone tight.
"Fine."
But you're not fine. You're calculating the odds that you can skip this thing without Professor García noticing. Or caring.
Except that would mean explaining to Sofia why you're suddenly allergic to networking events. Which would mean explaining about the move from Barcelona. Which would mean explaining things you don't have words for yet.
So instead you nod. Smile. Pretend like the thought of spending an evening making small talk with Real Madrid players doesn't make you want to crawl under your desk and stay there.
"Great," García says, apparently wrapping up his sales pitch. "I'll email you the details. Remember, this is optional but highly recommended. Nike doesn't offer these opportunities often."
The lecture moves on to muscle fiber types and you try to focus. Really. But your brain keeps drifting back to Friday night.
To cocktail attire and corporate representatives and the growing certainty that your life in Madrid is about to get exponentially more complicated.
Sofia's still taking notes. Dutiful, organized, probably already planning her outfit.
You draw another ferret. This one's stealing a Nike swoosh.
Seems appropriate.
Home feels different now that your dad’s working for Real Madrid.
Not worse, exactly; just… Heavier. Like the walls are holding their breath, waiting for something to go wrong.
You can hear him in the kitchen, moving around with the kind of agitation that means he’s either cooking something complicated or thinking through a problem.
You have lived with him enough to know it’s usually both.
"¿Qué tal la universidad?" (How was university?) your dad calls out when he hears you drop your bag by the door.
"Educativa," (Educational) you say, which is technically true.
You did learn that Nike has tentacles that reach into every corner of Spanish academic life.
"Bien. Ven aquí un momento." (Good. Come here for a minute.)
The kitchen smells like garlic and something that might be steaks if your dad’s feeling ambitious. He’s standing at the stove, stirring something in a pan that’s definitely too big for two people.
Force of habit.
He’s been cooking for crowds since your mom died, like muscle memory doesn’t understand that the crowd is gone.
"Tenemos que hablar sobre el viernes," (We need to talk about Friday) he says without looking up.
Friday. The Nike thing. Of course he knows about it. Probably got an email from someone at the university, or maybe Nike reached out directly. Corporate synergy and all that.
"Ya sé lo del evento de networking," (I already know about the networking event) you say, leaning against the counter. "El profesor García hizo el gran anuncio hoy." (Professor Garcia made the big announcement today.)
"No es eso—" (That's not—) He stops stirring what you now recognize as the veggies side dish. Looks at you. "¿Qué evento de networking?" (What networking event?)
Oh.
Oh, this is worse.
"Nike está patrocinando algo en la UEM. Viernes por la noche. Estudiantes de ciencias del deporte." (Nike's sponsoring something at UEM. Friday night. Sports science students.) You watch his expression change from confusion to something that looks suspiciously like resignation. "¿Por qué?" (Why?)
He sets down the wooden spoon. Runs a hand through his hair in that way that means he’s about to deliver news you won’t like.
"El Real Madrid tiene una cena programada con representantes de Nike. Viernes por la noche a las nueve, pero tenemos que estar allí a las siete y media." (Real Madrid has a dinner scheduled with Nike representatives. Friday night at nine, but we have to be there by seven-thirty.) He pauses. "Las familias del personal están invitadas." (Staff families are invited.)
The pieces click together immediately.
You want to throw something.
"Es el mismo evento." (It's the same event.)
"Eso parece." (Appears so.)
"Así que las 'figuras prominentes de la comunidad deportiva madrileña' son—" (So the 'prominent figures from Madrid's sports community' are—)
"El equipo. Sí." (The team. Yes.)
You stare at him. He stares back, apologetic but not apologetic enough to fix this.
"No puedo ir," (I can't go) you say finally.
"Sí, puedes." (Yes, you can.)
"No iré." (I won't go.)
"Sí, irás." (Yes, you will.)
It’s not a conversation. It’s a statement of fact, delivered in the tone he uses when discussing treatment plans with stubborn patients.
Final and absolutely non-negotiable.
"Papá—" (Dad—)
"Esto es importante." (This is important.) He turns back to the stove, but his shoulders are tense. "Mi puesto aquí sigue siendo nuevo. Aún me están evaluando. Estos eventos importan." (My position here is still new. Still being evaluated. These events matter.)
Right.
Because everything comes back to that—his job, his reputation, the delicate political balance of being the former Barcelona physiotherapist who now works for Real Madrid.
You’re not just his daughter at these things. You’re evidence. Proof that the transition is working, that the family has successfully integrated into Madrid’s football culture.
No pressure.
"¿Cuántos jugadores?" (How many players?) you ask, because you need to know the scope of the disaster you're walking into.
"La mayoría del primer equipo. Entrenadores. Algunos miembros de la junta." (Most of the first team. Coaches. Some board members.) He glances at you. "Es un gran evento para Nike. Anuncio de nueva asociación." (It's a big deal for Nike. New partnership announcement.)
"¿Y tengo que estar allí porque...?" (And I have to be there because...?)
"Porque eres parte de esta familia. Y esta familia se apoya mutuamente." (Because you're part of this family. And this family supports each other.)
The guilt trip is subtle but effective. Because he’s right. You are part of this family.
The only family either of you has left.
And if supporting him means suffering through dinner with Real Madrid players while maintaining the fiction that you’re happy to be there, then that’s what you’ll do.
Even if it kills you.
Even if one of those players is as arrogant as Kim Taehyung.
"Vale," (Fine) you say. "Pero no voy a fingir ser fan del Madrid." (But I'm not pretending to be a Madrid fan.)
"No te estoy pidiendo que lo hagas." (I'm not asking you to.)
"Y no voy a hacer conversación sobre lo genial que es el equipo." (And I'm not making small talk about how great the team is.)
"Entendido." (Understood.)
"Y si alguien pregunta sobre el Barcelona—" (And if anyone asks about Barcelona—)
"Les dices la verdad. Que lo echas de menos pero te estás adaptando." (You tell them the truth. That you miss it but you're adjusting.) He turns off the heat, faces you completely. "Esto no tiene que ser una tortura. Solo... sé tú misma. Sé educada." (This doesn't have to be torture. Just... be yourself. Be polite.)
Be yourself. Right.
Because your ‘self’ is exactly who you want to be around a table full of people who represent everything you’ve been raised to view with suspicion.
Everyone keeps saying that like it’s simple advice instead of the most complicated thing in the world.
Your ‘self’ is a Barcelona girl in Madrid territory. A physio’s daughter who knows too much about football politics and not enough about corporate networking. Someone who misses her mom and protects her dad and has strong opinions about ferret care.
None of which feels particularly useful for surviving dinner with Real Madrid.
But maybe that’s the point.
Maybe being yourself is exactly what will get you through this.
Even if ‘yourself’ includes the part that finds Kim Taehyung insufferable.
Especially that part.
"¿Qué me pongo?" (What should I wear?) you ask, because if you're doing this, you might as well do it right.
"Algo bonito, elegante." (Something nice, elegant.) He pauses. "Tu madre tenía un vestido negro. Aún está en el armario de arriba." (Your mother had a black dress. Still in the closet upstairs.)
The mention of Mom never stops the dull ache from forming and stirring in your chest.
Like lillies in full bloom.
"Ya me las arreglaré," (I'll figure something out) you say, because the thought of wearing her clothes to a Real Madrid event feels like blasphemy.
He nods. Goes back to stirring.
You grab a pikota from the jar on the counter, unwrap it, let the sourness ground you while you process the fact that your Friday night just became infinitely more complicated.
"¿Al menos me dirás quién va a estar allí?" (Will you at least tell me who's going to be there?) you ask. "Para poder prepararme para el sabor específico de pesadilla que va a ser esto." (So I can prepare for the specific flavor of nightmare this is going to be?)
He rattles off names. Players you recognize from sports coverage and social media. Coaches you’ve seen on the sidelines. Board members you don’t know and don’t care about.
“Taehyung?” you ask when he doesn’t mention him specifically.
"Probablemente. ¿Por qué?" (Probably. Why?)
Because he called you Gominola and stole your candy and made sounds during a medical procedure like he was auditioning for porn.
Because he thinks you’re cute when you’re angry and left his trash for you to clean up.
Because something about him makes you want to claw his eyes off and you’re not sure you’ll hold yourself back if you have to be in his space for three hours.
"Solo preguntaba," (Just wondering) you say.
Your dad gives you a glance that’s accompanied by a small frown, but doesn’t comment on it. Instead…
"Estará bien," (It'll be fine) he says, turning back to the meal. "Unas pocas horas. Buena comida. Luego se acabó." (A few hours. Good food. Then it's over.)
Right. A few hours.
In a room full of Real Madrid players.
Including Taehyung.
Who will probably find new and creative ways to be insufferable while you try to maintain your dignity and support your father’s career.
What could go wrong?
You eat another pikota. This one tastes like impending doom.
"Voy a estudiar," (I'm going to study) you announce, pushing off from the counter.
"La cena está en una hora." (Dinner's in an hour.)
"Bajaré." (I'll be down.)
You head upstairs, leaving him with his meat and his optimism.
Up there, the room feels smaller than usual, like the walls are closing in with the weight of Friday night’s obligations.
Just as if your room represents exactly how you’re feeling.
Hari and Nube are there, watching you from their cage, probably sensing your mood through whatever weird telepathic connection you’ve developed with them.
“Esto es una mierda,” (This is shit) you tell them.
Nube chitches in what sounds like agreement. Hari just steals another sock.
Smart ferret. Some problems are best solved through theft and chaos.
You flop onto your bed, staring at the ceiling while your brain runs through worst-case scenarios.
Taehyung will be there. Obviously. Because the universe has a sense of humor and no mercy.
He’ll probably make more inappropriate comments about your appearance or your attitude or your apparent cuteness when angry. He’ll probably find new ways to invade your personal space while maintaining plausible deniability. He’ll definitely do that thing where he acts like everything is a game and everything is fair and square.
Everything is his prize if he so much wishes for it to be.
And you’ll have to sit there. Smile. Be polite.
Support your father’s career while maintaining your sanity.
Should be simple.
Should be.
Your phone buzzes. Not Jungkook this time—something different. A WhatsApp notification for a group you don’t recognize.
𝐍𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐧𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐩 𝐃𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐞𝐫 - 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐥 𝐌𝐚𝐝𝐫𝐢𝐝
47 𝑝𝑒𝑜𝑝𝑙𝑒 𝑎𝑑𝑑𝑒𝑑 𝑡𝑜 𝑔𝑟𝑜𝑢𝑝．
You stare at the screen. Scroll through the participant list. Every name you recognize from training sessions, plus dozens you don’t. Players, coaches, staff, board members. The entire Real Madrid ecosystem crammed into one group chat.
And somewhere in that list—Kim Taehyung.
Of course.
"¡Papá!" (Dad!) you call downstairs.
"¿Sí?" (Yeah?)
"¿Por qué estoy en un grupo de WhatsApp con toda la organización del Real Madrid?" (Why am I in a WhatsApp group with the entire Real Madrid organization?)
Pause. The sound of a wooden spoon being set down.
"Cena de Nike el viernes," (Nike dinner Friday) he says, like this explains everything. "Todos los asistentes necesitan estar al tanto. Vienes, así que estás en el chat." (Everyone attending needs to be in the loop. You're coming, so you're in the chat.)
Right. Because your life wasn’t complicated enough.
You scroll through the chat history. Pure chaos. Forty-seven people trying to coordinate one dinner, and it’s exactly as much of a disaster as you’d expect.
Your stomach drops. There it is. The question that’s not really a question.
𝐃𝐚𝐝: 👍
𝐌𝐚𝐫𝐜𝐨: 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚏𝚊𝚖𝚒𝚕𝚢 𝚝𝚘𝚘?
You stare at that message. Blink in silence like that’ll somehow transcribe your response into existence.
God, why are they all annoying?
The typing dots appear under your name. Everyone can see them. Forty-six people watching you not respond.
You delete whatever you were going to type.
𝐗𝐚𝐯𝐢: 𝚢𝚎𝚊𝚑 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝’𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚑𝚘𝚕𝚎 𝚙𝚘𝚒𝚗𝚝
𝐗𝐚𝐯𝐢: 𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚏𝚏 𝚙𝚕𝚞𝚜 𝚙𝚊𝚛𝚝𝚗𝚎𝚛𝚜 𝚙𝚕𝚞𝚜 𝚏𝚊𝚖𝚒𝚕𝚢
𝐋𝐞𝐨: 𝚜𝚘 𝚂𝚘𝚏𝚒𝚊 𝚌𝚊𝚗 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚎?
𝐒𝐞𝐫𝐠𝐢𝐨 (𝐂𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐚𝐢𝐧): 𝚈𝙴𝚂 𝙻𝙴𝙾
𝐌𝐚𝐫𝐜𝐨: 𝚂𝚘𝚏𝚒𝚊’𝚜 𝚍𝚎𝚏𝚒𝚗𝚒𝚝𝚎𝚕𝚢 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚐
𝐌𝐚𝐫𝐜𝐨: 𝚓𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚢𝚘𝚞
𝐋𝐞𝐨: 𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝’𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚜𝚞𝚙𝚙𝚘𝚜𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚘 𝚖𝚎𝚊𝚗
𝐆𝐚𝐛𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐥: 💀💀💀
𝐂𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐨 (𝐂𝐨𝐚𝐜𝐡): 𝙴𝙽𝙾𝚄𝙶𝙷
The chat goes quiet for exactly thirty seconds. Then:
𝐍𝐚𝐦𝐣𝐨𝐨𝐧: 𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚎 𝚜𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚏𝚏 𝚊𝚛𝚛𝚒𝚟𝚎?
𝐃𝐚𝐝: 𝟷𝟿:𝟷𝟻.
Your dad appears in the doorway, probably wondering why you’ve gone quiet.
"¿Todo bien?" (Everything okay?)
"Solo leyendo el chat grupal." (Just reading the group chat.) You hold up your phone. "Es como ver un documental sobre machos alfa en su hábitat natural." (It's like watching a nature documentary about alpha males in their natural habitat.)
"¿Tan malo?" (That bad?)
"Marco acaba de decirle a Leo que su novia va a dejarlo durante los aperitivos." (Marco just told Leo his girlfriend's going to dump him during appetizers.)
He winces. "Marco es... directo." (Marco's... direct.)
"Marco es un sociópata." (Marco's a sociopath.)
"Es joven." (He's young.)
Young. Everyone keeps using that word like it explains away basic human decency.
𝐒𝐞𝐫𝐠𝐢𝐨 (𝐂𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐚𝐢𝐧): 𝙾𝚔 𝚜𝚘 𝚏𝚒𝚗𝚊𝚕 𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚏𝚒𝚛𝚖𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚗𝚎𝚎𝚍𝚎𝚍
𝐒𝐞𝐫𝐠𝐢𝐨 (𝐂𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐚𝐢𝐧): 𝚁𝚎𝚙𝚕𝚢 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚗𝚞𝚖𝚋𝚎𝚛 𝚊𝚝𝚝𝚎𝚗𝚍𝚒𝚗𝚐
The responses flood in. Names, plus-ones, family members. A parade of people who belong in this world, who wear cocktail attire to corporate dinners without feeling like they’re playing dress-up.
You watch the numbers climb. Forty-seven becomes sixty-two becomes seventy-eight.
𝐌𝐚𝐫𝐜𝐨: 𝚃𝚊𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚋𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊𝚗𝚢𝚘𝚗𝚎?
𝐓𝐚𝐞𝐡𝐲𝐮𝐧𝐠: 𝚏𝚕𝚢𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚜𝚘𝚕𝚘
𝐆𝐚𝐛𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐥: 𝚜𝚑𝚘𝚌𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐
𝐌𝐚𝐫𝐜𝐨: 𝚠𝚑𝚢 𝚜𝚑𝚘𝚌𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐
𝐆𝐚𝐛𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐥: 𝚖𝚊𝚗’𝚜 𝚋𝚎𝚎𝚗 𝚘𝚗 𝚊 𝚜𝚝𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚔 𝚕𝚊𝚝𝚎𝚕𝚢
𝐃𝐢𝐞𝐠𝐨: 𝚒𝚗𝚊𝚙𝚙𝚛𝚘𝚙𝚛𝚒𝚊𝚝𝚎
𝐆𝐚𝐛𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐥: 𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝? 𝚒𝚝’𝚜 𝚙𝚞𝚋𝚕𝚒𝚌 𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠𝚕𝚎𝚍𝚐𝚎
𝐂𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐨 (𝐂𝐨𝐚𝐜𝐡): 𝙺𝙴𝙴𝙿 𝙸𝚃 𝙿𝚁𝙾𝙵𝙴𝚂𝚂𝙸𝙾𝙽𝙰𝙻
𝐓𝐚𝐞𝐡𝐲𝐮𝐧𝐠: 𝚓𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚏𝚘𝚌𝚞𝚜𝚎𝚍 𝚘𝚗 𝚏𝚘𝚘𝚝𝚋𝚊𝚕𝚕
The lie is so obvious it’s almost insulting. You’ve seen the headlines, the Instagram stories, the lipstick marks that make sports blogs.
Taehyung’s focus is definitely not on football.
𝐋𝐞𝐨: 𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚏𝚒𝚛𝚖𝚎𝚍 - 𝙻𝚎𝚘 + 𝚂𝚘𝚏𝚒𝚊
𝐌𝐚𝐫𝐜𝐨: 𝙵 𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝙻𝚎𝚘
𝐒𝐞𝐫𝐠𝐢𝐨 (𝐂𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐚𝐢𝐧): 𝙼𝚊𝚛𝚌𝚘 𝙸’𝚖 𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚢𝚘𝚞
𝐗𝐚𝐯𝐢: ✅ - 𝚇𝚊𝚟𝚒 + 𝙴𝚕𝚎𝚗𝚊
𝐃𝐢𝐞𝐠𝐨: 𝙳𝚒𝚎𝚐𝚘 + 𝙲𝚊𝚖𝚒𝚕𝚊
The list grows. Couples, families, people who fit together like puzzle pieces in this Madrid ecosystem.
𝐃𝐚𝐝: 𝙲𝚘𝚗𝚏𝚒𝚛𝚖𝚎𝚍 - 𝙹𝚎𝚜𝚞́𝚜 + 𝚍𝚊𝚞𝚐𝚑𝚝𝚎𝚛.
There it is. Your attendance, reduced to a line item in someone else’s confirmation.
reblogging a series that i was fucking addicted to, THIS pro soccer player, cocky, fuckboy, insanely mega horny Kim Taehyung destroyed all self respect in my body while reading
omg i saw the other user's ask about towering heights im so glad theres gonna be an update bc the jungkook parts are !! but also thank you for giving a timeline LOL I was wondering if jk thought she was attractive before but I also thought he just deadass hated her before so I was shook w the recent developments (i know the whole fic is still super in progress) but a JK POV would be wild. Regardless, what an interesting sexy fic look forward to the updates :)
not spoilers but let me chat about towering heights jk real quick bc that's dada's employee <𝟑
JK is an emotionally unattached gangster, and him being basically a hitman for most of his twenties has made him angry and stone cold by default, so I think when he deems it necessary (almost all the time), he can absolutely turn off all human emotion.
But he's also obedient because not only is Taehyung his boss, but his hyung, so when he realizes you aren't going anywhere anytime soon, he decides to actually treat you like a human being
But he is also just a twenty-eight-year-old man, how could he resist you in a black draped dress with that leg slit sitting in his passenger seat like that??? The human discipline can only last so well when you're dangling in front of him like that, cross-legged and dressed up in his car.
soooooooo excited towering heights is getting a series #deserved👀 i’m secretly hoping for jealous / possessive tae but i know it’s gonna be delicious regardless - thanks for writing <33333
please u all are soooo sweet, my inbox is flooded with messages about towering heights
The next part will be out by mid next week! She's almost entirely done but I'm proofreading/making plot tweaks and I'm tied up with work until mid next week, and I accidentally got distracted writing that hot ass taekook threesome oops
u take requests? cause seeing taekook earlier in jks live has me thinking about morning after a two man mission
oh you fucking HARLOT.
I’m sitting down and writing this in one session because this is a gorgeous request and I was daydreaming about the exact same thing during JK's live this morning, great minds think alike <𝟑 .ᐟ
i love you bad for making me write this
Body to Body — Kim Taehyung and Jeon Jungkook
summary: after signing two very extensive and detailed NDAs, you wake up after the wildest night of your life. What happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas, right?
pairing: kim taehyung x fem!reader x jeon jungkook
wc: 5.3k, 24 min
themes: ugh this is SO horny I'm shaking in my seat, a bit of fluff, sweet gentle after(and technically before)care, lots of praise, a little bit of humiliation, big dick tete agenda, even bigger dick jk agenda, voyeurism!tae, BUSAN AND DAEGU SATOORI BOYS, headpusher tae, my dream fuckin eiffel tower, Jungkook films you (asldfjsdlf imagine being in his private folder), morning sex, squirting, showering together!!!! I pay attention to details to try to make this as head cannon as I could make it, enjoy my beautiful freaky readers ₊˚⊹♡
All of your body beside me ♪
ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻ੈ✩‧₊˚
The sun cut through the gap in the blackout curtains, the blade of golden light stirring you from your slumber. You rose from your sleep slowly, first with a twitch of your eyelids, then a furrow of your brow, until your eyes cracked open, letting the blurry shapes of the room come into focus.
And for a moment, you completely forgot where you were.
You lifted your head off your pillow slightly, the room still spinning a little from the liquor being served to you nonstop last night. You looked around in the still very dim room, with just a slice of sunlight cutting across the edge of the bed and floor. You squinted, taking in your surroundings in the darkness. You were in a hotel room, a large one. The little thump in the back of your head came almost immediately, and you blinked slowly.
Someone shuffled beside you in bed, and a large arm came up around you, trapping you in the pillowy white blanket underneath its weight. You glanced down, a familiar pattern of tattoos inked into the skin of the bicep currently pinning you to the mattress.
Oh right.
You turned your head, coming face to face with a very much still asleep Jungkook. You froze in place, all the memories from last night rushing back to you all at once.
The after-party, the black-suited security guard instructing you to stay put and asking you to wait a little longer, the two heavy stacks of documents you were suddenly handed, and, through shaky eyes, you scribbled and signed before being escorted to a large van with tinted windows.
You blinked a few times, as if to try to prove to yourself that this wasn't a dream. Jungkook's lips were parted slightly, his face soft and relaxed, his stage makeup from the night before still around his eyes and ever so slightly smudged. His hair fell over his face, bangs stuck oddly in different places, his lips full and pouty.
Even when sleeping, this man was devastatingly gorgeous.
You studied his face for a little while, in silent awe of being in his bed. You shuffled a little and rolled onto your side, turning your back to him as his little spoon. You slid yourself back towards him until you were met with his warm, bare chest. Jungkook subconsciously slid his arm down, landing his arm comfortably on the smallest part of your waist. Your heart was pounding at the touch; the only separation between his arm and your very naked body was the duvet that was draped lazily over your torso.
You settled into your new position, still half asleep and comfy, and saw a mess of black and blonde hair from over the little hill in the blanket. You couldn't help but smile to yourself, the giddiness returning in full swing.
The other wildly exciting part of your night.
Taehyung was facing away from you, lying on his stomach, his hair peeking out from above the blanket. His arms were tucked neatly under his pillow, the flex of his biceps so close to you sending a stir to your stomach again.
Maybe if you stayed completely still, they would keep sleeping, and you could stay here forever.
You let yourself drift back to sleep, but your heart was already awake and racing. There was no way you could fall asleep again now. You shuffled a little under the blanket again, curling yourself up into a little ball as you tried to get extra comfy. Then there was some movement on the mattress. Taehyung lifted his head off his pillow, staring off at the wall for a few seconds before turning his head to finally face you.
"Oh, you're awake." He spoke in a low whisper in the dark bedroom; his morning voice was rough and gravelly, but the same silkiness like honey poured through.
You nodded with a soft smile, and he smiled back, reaching his arm over the blanket to pet your chin. You felt yourself flush, the shyness hitting you at full force. You flustered at his touch, and he let out a soft chuckle.
"Does your head hurt?" he whispered, hand still resting gently on your face.
"Not really, I'm a little dizzy," you replied.
"Sit tight. Let me get you some water."
Taehyung sat up in bed, his bare back facing you as he sat on the edge of his side of the bed, stretching his neck side to side before standing up. Your eyes drifted to the tattoo on his lower back, something you never thought you'd be able to see so detailed and up close. You couldn't do anything but stare, still in such shock about how you ended up here.
He walked over to the mini fridge and pulled out a chilled bottle of water before cracking it open and returning to the bed.
"Here."
You nodded your head and thanked him, propping yourself up on your arm so you could take a sip. The icy, cool water was an immediate relief to your dry throat. Taehyung watched you as you took a few sips from the bottle, the water feeling like God's gift to your hungover body right now.
Jungkook stirred behind you, his arm still heavy on your waist. You heard a few quiet, sleepy hums behind you, and you turned your head back to face him, his eyes cracking open slowly.
"Mm," he hummed, eyes blinking slowly as he woke up in phases. His eyes landed on you, tucked safely under his arm and pressed against his warm, bare chest.
"Morning," he said with a lazy smile, before his eyes closed again. He pulled you in a little closer, the comfort of cuddling you lulling him back to sleep.
"Jungkook-ah," Taehyung climbed back into bed, reaching over you to nudge his friend on the shoulder. Jungkook furrowed his brows and lifted his head, eyes open again.
"It's almost nine. Get up."
Jungkook let out a grunt in protest before looking down at you, still cradled in his arms.
"Have fun last night?" he said with a small, sleepy smirk.
You crinkled your nose, turning your face into your pillow to hide your embarrassed smile. Jungkook laughed before planting a kiss on the back of your shoulder.
"I'll take that as a yes."
He sat up and rolled his neck a few times, his broad bare back perfectly chiselled, even in the dark room. You felt your mouth water, your head still resting on the pillow.
Jungkook shuffled down the hall, and a few moments later, the bathroom light flicked on, the door swinging half-closed.
Taehyung was back in bed with you, now lying on his back, still shirtless and only in his sleep shorts. He looked at you with quiet curiosity before opening his arm towards you, patting his chest with his other hand.
You scooted closer to him and rested your head on his chest, his warm, strong arm wrapping around you safely. You nestled yourself deeper into him; the smell of his sweat mixed with the leathery notes of his cologne was enough to drive you crazy.
"Sleep well?" Taehyung mumbled as he traced soft circles on your arm.
"Mhm," you hummed, your hand resting on his chest next to your cheek.
"Good," he replied, giving your arm a quick squeeze.
He tilted you up by the chin, your eyes locking with his, only inches away from each other. You felt everything inside you turn into a puddle at his touch.
"I had a lot of fun last night," he said with a lazy smile. "I hope it wasn't too much for you."
"No, I had fun—it was fun," you said with a smile, fighting the blush from rising to your cheeks.
Taehyung leaned in and brought his lips down on yours, his full, pouting lips electrifying you as he kissed you. You parted your lips involuntarily, and he let out a soft laugh as he deepened the kiss, delicately, sweetly, and not aggressively and dominating like it was last night.
"Mm," you hummed into his mouth, and he smiled into the kiss for a moment before he pushed himself deeper against you, his tongue swiping your lower lip for entry. You let your mouth fall open, granting him access to the inside of your mouth. Taehyung wasn't rushed; he licked your tongue softly first, before darting his tongue in a little deeper, sweeping the inside of your mouth like he was trying to map out the inside of your mouth before you had to leave.
"Tae," you moaned, the sensation of his wet tongue against yours so early in the morning sending a fire directly to your lower core.
"Gonna miss this pretty mouth when we fly out tonight," he murmured into your mouth.
Taehyung lifted you up so that you were practically lying on top of him now, and he pulled away from your lips for a moment, propping his pillow up behind him so he was sitting up a little more, watching you with those hypnotizing eyes.
"Why don't you leave us with one more memory before you have to go?" His tone was lower, dripping with his want for you, his eyes the same as they were last night: dark and commanding.
You bit your lower lip as you slid yourself down his bare torso, landing yourself right at his waist. Taehyung was already hard beneath the fabric of his pyjama shorts, his eyes half-lidded as he watched you intently.
With one hand, you slipped his waistband down, his waiting cock peeking out from the waistband, flushed and already a little glistened from precum.
You were the luckiest girl on earth.
You took him in your mouth, the familiar salty sweetness of his arousal coating your tongue. Taehyung's mouth fell open, his eyes trained on you as you swirled your tongue expertly over the head of his needy cock.
"Mmm, so gorgeous," he moaned as he watched you.
Your head was still spinning a little from the alcohol, but you blinked hard to maintain your focus. Your wet, pouty lips worked his tip as you licked at the soft tendon at the underside of his cock.
Taehyung bucked his hips a little at the sensation you were giving him, his one arm coming up to hold up the back of his head.
"Yeah, just like that."
You dipped your head lower, his cock sinking deeper into your mouth, nudging on the back of your throat. Taehyung let out a deep, breathy moan, his eyes fluttering closed as you slid your mouth up and down his length.
"Fuck," he grunted, before his other hand flew to the back of your head, pushing you further down onto his long, thick cock. "Obsessed with you."
You felt yourself gag a little at the force of his hand on the top of your head, guiding you further and further down his length. He was deep down your throat now, his thickness filling your mouth entirely, knocking your uvula with every bounce. You closed your eyes, focused on pleasing the superstar sprawled out in front of you. You closed your hand into a fist, fighting the tears that threatened to escape your eyes from the intensity of his fullness in your mouth.
Taehyung bobbed you up and down with his guided hand, his hips bucking upwards to let himself feel even more of you, the stretch of your mouth around him driving him crazy.
"So fucking good, hm? Fucking love this mouth," he hissed as he continued fucking your mouth, his satoori bleeding through every anunciation of his words. "Fuck."
"I still feel fucking drunk," Jungkook suddenly turned the corner, reappearing from the bathroom, toothbrush dangling from his mouth.
He stopped in his tracks at the sight of you, naked and on your knees in front of Taehyung, your head being pinned down by his hand as he fucked your mouth like you were his personal little pornstar.
"Huh, so this is what you were doing while I was washing my face," Jungkook scoffed, taking a step closer towards the foot of the bed.
You let out a muffled moan, and Taehyung released his hand from your head, letting you finally catch some air. You pulled off of him with a desperate wet pop, your eyes and lashes wet, your chin already dribbling with saliva. You were panting as you brought your hand up to Taehyung's cock, still determined to please him. You pumped your hand up and down his length firmly, milking him as you caught your breath.
"Hyung, you're so fucking greedy," Jungkook murmured, taking another step towards the bed so that he was only a couple of feet behind you at the foot of the bed.
Jungkook was still shirtless in his gym shorts, and he watched quietly as you continued to please his bandmate, your hand pumping Taehyung's cock with a steady pace, dipping your head back onto the first few inches of his length.
"Ugh, fuck, you're so pretty," Jungkook groaned, palming himself over his shorts now. "Even in the early morning, you're just as much of a giver as you were last night."
"Isn't she such a good girl?" Taehyung looked up at his dongsaeng with a cocky smirk. "Sucking me off for breakfast."
"Mhm," Jungkook replied, his voice low and hungry.
Jungkook pulled the toothbrush from his mouth, wiping his mouth on the abandoned towel on the bench at the foot of the bed.
"Can you handle some more, love?" Jungkook's words were sweet, but the way they came out of his mouth was mean, like he was teasing you.
You popped your mouth off of Taehyung and tossed your hair over your shoulder to look back at Jungkook. You didn't say anything, just gave him a look, that look that got you into this mess in the first place.
He let out half a cocky laugh before he slid his shorts down, undressing himself behind you.
You felt your core burning already, your pussy clenching around the painful nothingness. The cool air of the hotel room felt extra sensitive against your exposed cunt, your ass up in the air from pleasing Taehyung.
"C'mere," Jungkook said with a growl as he reached forward, gripping your hips and yanking you backwards towards him. You let out a giggly yelp at the way he manhandled you.
Jungkook slid his thumb against your pussy, the pad of his thumb parting your folds so easily. You shivered at the sensation, the glide of his finger sending little sparks throughout your whole body.
"Already dripping," he murmured to himself. "Tae, you got her so wet already."
Taehyung let out a laugh, giving Jungkook a cocky half-shrug as he took his own cock into his left hand, pumping himself lazily.
"She has good taste."
Jungkook dipped a finger into you first, the feeling of something, anything inside of you making you gasp. He hummed as he slid another finger into you, before he began to scissor his fingers inside of you, stretching you out.
"Hnng, JK," you hissed, your head dropping forward against the blanket.
"Shh shh," Jungkook said with a smirk. "Just getting you ready for me, baby."
"I think she can handle it already, Koo." Taehyung was watching you, face pressed into the blanket to muffle your moans as he jerked himself off to the view.
The sensation of Jungkook's fingers suddenly went away, before being replaced by the burning, splitting sensation of his cock pressing into you, slowly, inch by inch.
"Ah!" You wailed into the blanket, the soft pillow duvet swallowing any of your cries. "Too-too much."
"You can take it," Taehyung growled, still fucking his hand in front of your face. "You took it so well last night, didn't you, baby?"
You nodded and propped yourself back up properly before arching your back, giving yourself fully to Jungkook as he sank deeper into you, until he was completely sheathed inside of your pussy. The feeling of him filling you completely was shattering your sanity; Jungkook was hung, bigger than any of the boyfriends from your past, and he knew exactly how to use all nine inches of his pretty cock.
"That's it," Jungkook groaned, staying still for a moment as you quaked and clenched around him desperately, trying to get used to the feeling of him again. "Take it. Take all of me, pretty girl."
"F-fuck," you moaned, lifting your head off the bed finally. "God, you feel so good inside of me."
"Love my cock, huh? Wanna take it all for me like a good girl, ah?" Jugnkook's voice was gravelly and low, his Busan accent thick and evident in every sentence as he got lost in the feeling of you, still drunk and sleepy.
"Yes, JK," you whimpered.
He began to set a rhythm, rocking his hips against your ass at a pace that knocked the wind out of your lungs. You let out a cry at the intensity, his length splitting you in half as he fucked you from behind.
Taehyung groaned at the sight of you, falling apart already on Jungkook's cock. You looked up at Taehyung through needy eyes, your brows furrowed and lips pouting as your breath matched the pace of every slam of Jungkook's hips into you.
"Think you can take us both, hm?" Taehyung's accent was thick, his eyes half-lidded as he watched you like a jaguar. "Come here, take this cock too."
You swallowed between gasps before reaching forward, wrapping your hand around Taehyung's girthy size again. He cocked his head to the side as he watched you, his other hand coming up to fluff the back of his hair.
"Come on, princess, don't be shy," Jungkook growled from behind you, still fucking you expertly. "Show us what you can do."
You could barely think straight with how well Jungkook's cock was hitting your g-spot, knocking stars into your vision with every thrust. You shook your head a little before poking your tongue out of your mouth again, enveloping Taehyung in your mouth once more.
"Fuuuck," Taehyung moaned, dropping his head back against his pillow. "You're a gorgeous little cumslut, aren't you?"
You nodded a little as you bobbed your head up and down on his cock again, swallowing every inch of him that you could possibly take. Taehyung's length stretched your mouth out so crudely, and he sneered at you as he watched you struggle to take him all in your mouth.
"Too fucking big for you?" Taehyung groaned, his dialect itching your ears in just the right way. "Dirty girl, you can do it."
You felt like your body was on fire; every part of you felt full, spent, but your head was spinning with how much pleasure you were experiencing. Jungkook was fucking you so well from behind, every thrust of his hips pushing you deeper onto Taehyung's cock.
"Wanna see you fall apart like this on the both of us, honey," Jungkook groaned before dropping his hand down to your pussy, rubbing slow, controlled, firm circles on your clit.
You let out a muffled cry, the sounds dampened against Taehyung's length stuffed in your mouth. He grinned down at you, your mouth so full of him, and his other hand came back down to hold you steady.
You felt like you were going to die, but you already were in heaven.
Your core burned hotter and hotter, the cord inside of you beginning to stretch impossibly tight. Jungkook's tip was knocking against your sensitive spot so perfectly, and you thought you could pass out from the pleasure.
The rhythm of his hips suddenly faltered for a moment, and Jungkook leaned down, fishing his phone out of his shorts that were left abandoned on the floor.
The blanket around you was suddenly illuminated by a phone light, and your eyes widened as you realized Jungkook was filming you, spread open, bent over, and taking him like a pornstar. Humiliation immediately washed over your whole body, and you were sure that if you weren't red in the face before, you definitely were now.
"Jungkook—" you gasped, popping your mouth off of Taehyung for a moment.
"Don't worry, angel, nobody's ever going to see this except me. And Hyung."
Taehyung chuckled, his hand pushing your head back down along him. He gave you a wink, the small gesture sending a surge of adrenaline through your body, and you picked up the pace.
"Ugh fuck, look at her. Performing for the camera."
Jungkook held the camera at arm's length so that he was filming himself fucking you, selfie-style, as you sucked Taehyung off. He threw his head back into the pillow again, his lower lip pinched between his teeth as his abdomen was flexed, his pleasure taking over his whole demeanour.
"Gonna fucking cum in this pretty mouth," Taehyung hissed, brows furrowed as he sat up a little further, his V-line and abdomen on perfect display, glistening with sweat and flexed.
"Sin fucking city," Jungkook said to the camera with a cocky laugh. "Look at her."
Your face burned with embarrassment, but you persisted. Jungkook's fingers were still working your clit, and you were desperately trying not to explode, not to scream out in pleasure.
Taehyung let out a long, pornographic moan as he reached his climax, his warm, desperate spurts hitting you in the back of your throat. Your mouth was suddenly flooded with the salty-sweet taste of him, thick and creamy on your tongue.
"Fuuck-God," Taehyung hissed, his hand pushing you down along his length impossibly deep as he rode out his high. "Horny little slut, taking my load in her pretty mouth."
You dragged your tongue along the underside of his length, all the way up to the top, cleaning him up with your mouth before you drank all of him down. You swallowed with a gasp, your mouth falling open to show Taehyung that you had taken all of him so well, just like he wanted.
Taehyung's hand released from your head to tilt you up to look at him by the chin. You held eye contact with him through teary eyes, still rocking forward on your knees as Jungkook fucked you. Taehyung's eyes were still dark, but his gestures were a little sweeter now, his thumb dragging along your lower lip, wiping up the residual cum dripping from your mouth.
"Pretty girl," he hummed. "Getting me off so well while Koo fucks you from the back."
You let out a whine at Taehyung's gentle hands as Jungkook wrecked you, the two opposite sensations making your head spin.
"Please, please," you begged, your eyes needy and wet as you held Taehyung's gaze. "Feels so-so good, Tae. Gonna—"
"Fuck, she feels so tight around me," Jungkook hissed, his eyes squeezing shut as he fought his own pleasure, his camera still on you.
You were teetering on the edge now, your climax dangerously close. You squeezed your eyes shut, the pleasure manifesting itself in the faces you were making, desperate, vulnerable, and so erotic.
Taehyung's voice broke through your trance.
"Look at me."
Your eyes flew open, Taehyung's hand returning to your chin as he held you up, forcing you to look at him. He was smiling at you, not sweet, but cocky.
"Just wanna remember what you look like as you cum, hm?" Taehyung said with a grin.
That was it.
Your climax ripped through your body, the intensity so strong that your vision went blurry, and you dropped your head to the blanket, as you wailed into the covers. Taehyung lifted your head back up with ease, your eyes rolled back into your head, eyes fluttering, knuckles white as you gripped the bedsheets. You felt a warm rush of liquid escape you, dripping down your thighs and trickling onto the bed with an audible drip.
"Fuck, so sexy," Jungkook hissed, maintaining his mean pace. "Squirting all over me like a dirty whore."
"Tae, too much, he's too much," you sobbed, the pleasure mixing with pain as Jungkook knocked his cock into you, his pace picking up as he neared his climax.
"Shh, you can take it," Taehyung murmured, stroking your cheek. "Take it, doll."
Jungkook let out a low groan through gritted teeth, his phone abandoned on the bed, both his hands gripping you by the hips as he pounded into you continuously.
"Fuck, you squeeze around me so well, gonna fucking cum in this slutty cunt, huh?"
You felt your body go limp, but you stayed on your knees so obediently, letting Jungkook climb to his peak as he fucked you feverishly.
A large hand came down on your ass, giving you a stinging slap. You wailed out, your fingers coming up to intertwine with Taehyung's.
"Fucking perfect girl," Jungkook growled. "Letting me fuck her while Hyung watches. Gonna fucking wreck you, baby."
"Let Jungkook cum in your pretty pussy, baby," Taehyung cooed.
"Fuck-yes, Jung-kook-please," you stuttered, far too drunk off his cock to even think straight. "Please, finish in my tight little pussy, it's all yours, my pussy is yours."
Jungkook let out a low guttural groan as he pressed himself deep into you, up to the hilt. His head dropped forward as he reached his climax.
"Fucking shit," he moaned as you felt his ropes shoot inside of you, jagged and pulsing. Jungkook painted your walls with his pleasure, his breath releasing in short pants and hisses as he fucked himself through his high.
You were entirely spent now, your body was limp and boneless, and you collapsed onto the bed by Taehyung's legs. Jungkook collapsed beside you at the foot of the bed, his length still buried inside of you.
The three of you lay on the bed, sprawled in every direction in silence, the only sound in the room was the panting and heavy breathing from both you and Jungkook. Taehyung's hand came up to pet your hair gently, stroking your head with a soft rub of his thumb.
He reached over for the water bottle he had brought you earlier on the nightstand and uncapped it again, bringing it to your lips. Your eyes fluttered open at the contact with the plastic bottle, and you opened your mouth slightly, allowing Taehyung to bottle feed you sips of water through heavy breaths.
"Good girl," he cooed. "Such a good girl."
Jungkook wrapped his arm around your waist again, holding you in close as his breathing returned to normal. He pressed sweet kisses along your shoulder, your back, your spine.
"Let's get you cleaned up, hm?"
Jungkook gently pulled himself out of you, the mix of your fluids dripping out onto the bedsheets. You covered your face in embarrassment, but Jungkook's hand came up to pull your wrist off.
"Come on, let's get you cleaned up."
The shower turned on with a roar, the water pressure strong and thumping against the glass door already. Steam slowly began to fill the chamber, and Jungkook reached into the shower to test the temperature.
Taehyung was standing behind you, his hands rubbing up and down your arms possessively as he waited for the shower to warm up.
"It's good," Jungkook mumbled as he stepped in, and then turned to face you, his hand reaching out to help you in.
You stepped over the little step of the shower floor, joining Jungkook in the steamy chamber. The scent of eucalyptus and citrus filled your senses, the steam soothing your whole body almost instantly.
Taehyung stepped in behind you before he closed the door, the three of you standing impossibly close together. You were pinched between the two tall, muscular men, both of them facing you as their hands lazily explored your wet body.
"Sweet girl," Taehyung murmured into your ear, planting a kiss on the back of your neck. "Thanks for spending the night."
You nodded, and Jungkook tilted you up to face him with a finger on your chin. He grinned at you, lip ring twinkling under the potlight, before leaning in to press a sweet, soft kiss on your lips.
The two of them reached for the body wash that was mounted on the wall, each pumping twice, before lathering the soap in their hands. Jungkook then opened his hands towards you, his hands immediately gently gripping your breasts in his hand, giving them a soft squeeze as he began to spread the bubbly body wash across your body, massaging you as he cleaned you.
Taehyung followed suit, his hands firmly on your shoulders, massaging the tension out with his soapy hands before spreading the lather across your back, scrubbing gently and thoroughly down the length of your spine. You felt yourself melt at their touch, so intimate and loving.
"Mm, feels good," you sighed, your head dropping back onto Taehyung's shoulder.
"Yeah, she's sleepy," Jungkook said with a chuckle. "I'd be too."
You stood between them as they washed themselves, the scent of the bodywash making your head spin.
When all three of you were perfectly clean again, Taehyung reached around you and turned off the water before reaching out of the shower door to grab a towel. He stepped out first, wrapping the towel around his waist, before grabbing a second and third one, motioning for you to step out of the shower towards him. You did.
Jungkook stepped out of the shower behind you, and Taehyung handed him one of the towels. He wrapped it around his waist tightly before they both turned their focus back to you.
"Arms up," Taehyung said softly, and you lifted your arms over your head.
He wrapped the towel around your torso, tucking it in at the edge so it hung like a dress. Jungkook pressed the towel against your body, helping you dry yourself. Once you were comfortably wrapped up, Jungkook stepped towards the mirror, shaking his wet tendrils of hair around like a puppy dog. He collected another towel from the shelf to dry his hair.
You returned to the bed, sitting on the edge as Taehyung got dressed in front of you. He glanced at the clock on the wall.
10:04am.
"Jungkookie-ah, we gotta go soon."
"Yah," Jungkook called from inside the bathroom.
Taehyung turned back to look at you.
"We have late check out. You can nap here until we come back, if you want."
You were so sleepy, too blissed out to move. You nodded, giving him a weak smile as you let yourself lie back in bed.
Taehyung looked at you with a laugh before coming around the bed again, petting your head gently.
"Sleep well. We'll try to get ready quietly."
You nodded, already feeling half-asleep as you melted back into the pillows and blanket, the cool Egyptian cotton bundling you up so addictively.
You didn't realize you had drifted off to sleep until your eyes snapped open to the sound of a knock at the door.
"That's probably Hobi-hyung," Taehyung murmured, now fully dressed, with a pair of sunglasses sitting on his head, and his backpack over his shoulder.
"Yeah, I'm ready to go," Jungkook hummed, his hair fluffy and blow-dried, bare-faced and zipped up in a black hoodie.
"It was nice meeting you," Jungkook said, giving you a nod, his hands in his pockets. "Maybe when we're back in Vegas?" He gave you a wink.
You buried your face a little deeper into the blanket, the shyness returning.
"Yeah," you murmured, your mouth breaking into a wide smile.
Jungkook laughed, watching you fumble in your own shyness for a moment, before Taehyung nudged him by the shoulder.
"Come on, let's go," Taehyung urged. "They're all waiting for us."
Taehyung turned back to you with a little smirk.
"See you in a few hours."
And then the door opened and closed with a dull squeak and then a soft click, sealing you into this bubble of them, the twelve-hour whirlwind that you had found yourself in. You let your eyes flutter shut, the lingering smell of sweat and eucalyptus lulling you into what was going to be, possibly, the best sleep of your fucking life.
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i just blacked out and wrote this im missing out on precious sleep and i'm not proofreading it
