#taetae

[place-of-power]

[givemethatkookie]

🍙 An evening with you (bf Taehyung x yn) 🍙

── 🥡 ˑ 🥢 ˑ 🥠 ─── 🥡 ˑ 🥢 ˑ 🥠 ──🥡 ˑ 🥢 ˑ 🥠 ──

synopsis: a long evening walk with yeontan leads to a lazy night on the couch stuffed with chinese takeout. but when taehyung starts nursing his bruised ego over a stranger asking for your number earlier, a little harmless foot-tickling escalates into something more. one intentional bend over the kitchen counter is all it takes to turn a quiet evening into a hot blur.

⊹ 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 : kim taehyung x reader (established relationship)

⊹ 𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞 : soft smut / heavy fluff, domestic comfort, slight jealousy

⊹ 𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐩𝐞s : possessive taehyung, no-pants teasing, kitchen counter makeout.

⊹ 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 : dirty talk, heavy French kissing, ass slapping, rough lifting onto the counter, petty jealousy, foot rubbing turning into tickling, pure unadulterated laziness.

── 🥡 ˑ 🥢 ˑ 🥠 ─── 🥡 ˑ 🥢 ˑ 🥠 ──🥡 ˑ 🥢 ˑ 🥠 ──

▷ 𝗣𝗟𝗔𝗬 𝗦𝗧𝗢𝗥𝗬

You were both relaxing in the living room. Outside, the evening air was getting cold, but inside, the heater hummed quietly, keeping the living room perfectly toasted. On the low glass coffee table sat two open cardboard cartons of Chinese takeout—half-eaten orange chicken, oily chow mein, and a pair of wooden chopsticks resting over the rim.

You were currently buried under a massive plush blanket on the couch, after a long day of running errands. Your legs were stretched out completely, your bare feet propped directly onto Kim Taehyung’s lap.

Taehyung was slouched back against the opposite end of the sofa, looking incredibly relaxed, wearing nothing but a pair of loose gray sweatpants. His hair fell loosely into his. His large, elegant hands were clamped around your right foot, his long thumbs digging firm, rhythmic circles right into the arch of your sole.

Down at the foot of the couch, a tiny Yeontan was curled up into a tight circle, snoring softly. The three of you had just come back from a long, winding walk through the neighborhood park, letting Tannie sniff every single blade of grass until his little legs were tired.

"Mmm, Tae, right there," you groaned, burying your face deeper into a throw pillow as his thumb hit a particularly tense spot near your heel. "You have no idea how much my feet were killing me."

"I do know," Taehyung murmured. His thumb stroked up toward your toes. "You were walking around in those stupid, unsupportive flat shoes all day. I told you to wear sneakers."

"They looked cute with my outfit," you pouted, opening one eye to look at him.

Taehyung scoffed softly, his boxy smile flashing for a quick second before his expression shifted into something a bit more brooding, his thick eyebrows knitting together. His thumbs slowed down their movement, his touch becoming a little more harsh.

"Yeah." he grumbled, his tone dropping into a low, slightly petty octave. "So cute that the guy at the boba shop thought it was a fantastic idea to ask for your number right in front of my face."

A soft laugh escaped your lips. You tried to pull your foot back, but his large hands clamped down instantly, trapping your ankle over his thigh. "Taehyung, are you seriously still brooding over that? I didn't even give it to him. I told him I was here with my boyfriend."

"He shouldn't have even breathed in your direction," Taehyung growled. his dark eyes flickering up from your feet to lock onto your face. "He saw me holding Tannie's leash. He saw me standing right next to you. And he still had the audacity to ask if you were single. I should have let Tannie bite his sneakers."

"Tannie is a four-pound pom, he wouldn't do anything," you giggled, shifting under the blanket. "Besides, you're the only one I'm going home with. You're the one massaging my feet right now."

"Damn right I am," he murmured. But a mischievous, wicked glint suddenly sparked in his eyes. His gaze dropped back down to the soles of your bare feet. "But you still need to be punished for looking so good in public without my permission."

Before you could register the threat, his long fingers began to lightly, rapidly feather across the sensitive arches of both your feet.

"Tae! No—stop!" you shrieked, your body instantly spiking with adrenaline as severe tickles shot straight up your legs. You thrashed against the cushions, trying desperately to yank your legs away, but Taehyung just laughed. He used his sheer upper body strength to pin your ankles down, his fingers mercilessly scribbling against your skin.

"Say it," he teased, his boxy grin fully on display as he tickled you harder, making your toes curl helplessly. "Say 'I'm Taehyung's girl and nobody else's.'"

"I'm—haha! Tae, please! I'm yours! I'm yours!" you gasped out, tears of laughter pricking the corners of your eyes as you squirmed wildly under the blanket. "Tannie, help me!"

Yeontan didn't even lift his head, merely huffing out a sleepy sigh at the commotion.

With one final, desperate heave, you managed to kick yourself free from his grip, scrambling backward into the corner of the couch, breathing heavily with a flushed face. Taehyung sat back, entirely satisfied with himself, crossing his arms over his broad, bare chest as he watched you fix your rumpled appearance.

"You're a bully," you huffed, though a wide smile was still plastered on your face.

You kicked the heavy plush blanket off your lap, swinging your legs over the edge of the couch. As you stood up, the fabric of your outfit settled around your thighs. You weren't wearing any pants—just a pair of tiny, lace-trimmed underwear underneath a massively oversized t-shirt that belonged to your boyfriend. It was so big on you that the sleeves dropped past your elbows, and the hem barely covered the curve of your bottom.

"I'm going to throw the takeout boxes away," you announced, stretching your arms over your head, intentionally letting the hem of the shirt ride up even higher, exposing the soft skin of your thighs and the lower curve of your ass.

Taehyung’s eyes tracked the movement instantly. His gaze turned incredibly heavy, dark, and thick with a sudden, intense hunger as he watched you pad barefoot across the hardwood floor toward the open kitchen.

You knew exactly what you were doing. You could feel his eyes burning into your back.

Reaching the sleek, white kitchen island, you picked up the empty cardboard cartons and the used chopsticks. The trash can was tucked neatly inside a low cupboard beneath the counter. Instead of crouching down like a normal person, you deliberately kept your legs straight, leaning your upper body far forward over the counter to open the cupboard door.

The movement was completely calculated. The oversized black shirt rode all the way up your back, entirely exposing your bare thighs, your tiny lace underwear, and the soft, rounded cheeks of your ass to the living room.

From the couch, Taehyung let out a breath that sounded almost like a growl.

You heard the heavy, hurried thud of his bare feet slapping against the floorboards. Before you could even drop the takeout boxes into the bin, a massive, warm presence slammed into your backside.

"Stop being a tease." Taehyung growled directly into your ear, his voice incredibly deep and rough.

His large, heavy hands flew straight to your hips, his long fingers digging into your flesh with a dominant grip. He didn't waste a single second. Taehyung aggressively pressed his lower half completely flush against your rear. Through the thin, soft fabric of his gray sweatpants, you could feel the thick, rock-hard ridge of his erection pressing heavily into the valley of your thighs.

A sharp gasp escaped your lips as your hands gripped the edge of the marble counter for balance. "Tae, I'm just cleaning up—"

"Of course," he muttered, his breath burning hot against the sensitive skin of your neck.

With one brutal, sudden movement, he brought his open palm down against the bare cheek of your ass. A loud, sharp *smack* echoed through the quiet kitchen, the impact stinging beautifully, leaving a bright red print against your skin. You cried out, your back arching automatically as a rush of liquid heat pooled between your legs.

"You knew exactly what you were doing when you bent over like that," Taehyung whispered hoarsely, his teeth grazing the shell of your ear before he bit down gently on your earlobe. "Showing off what's mine. First the guy at the shop, now you're trying to drive me crazy in our own kitchen?"

"Do you like it?" you whimpered, tilting your head back against his broad shoulder, completely helpless under his touch.

Instead of answering, Taehyung gripped your waist and violently spun your body around, forcing your back against the hard marble of the kitchen counter. He crowded into your space instantly, his large thighs bracketing yours so you couldn't move an inch. His tatted arms framed your head, his hands gripping the edge of the counter as he looked down at you with blown-out, predatory pupils.

He looked devastatingly handsome—his lips parted, his chest rising and falling in heavy pants.

"I'm going to ruin you right here," he promised softly.

He leaned down, his mouth crashing into yours with an urgent, messy ferocity. Taehyung’s tongue slid inside your mouth smoothly, thick and wet, tangling with yours in deep, heavy strokes. He tasted faintly like the sweet orange chicken and the raw, fiery heat of his own desire.

The make-out session became chaotic within seconds. His tongue slid against yours with a slick, heavy friction, the sound of your mouths clicking and sliding together echoing loudly in the open space. You wrapped your arms around his neck, your fingers burying deep into his thick, messy dark curls, pulling him closer as if you could weld your bodies together.

Taehyung groaned into the kiss. His hand traveled down from the counter, his large palm slipping underneath the oversized merchandise shirt, his rough skin dragging up the bare flesh of your stomach. He gripped your breast squeezing the soft weight firmly, making you whine against his lips.

He broke the kiss for a fraction of a second, and Taehyung immediately chased it down, dragging his mouth down your jawline to suck hard on the sensitive spot right beneath your ear.

"You're so bad," he murmured breathlessly, his hands traveling down to your thighs, lifting your legs effortlessly until you were forced to wrap them around his waist. "Always looking for trouble. Always needing me to put my hands on you."

"You're the only one I want touching me, Tae," you cried out softly, your core grinding down against his hard length as he adjusted your position on the counter. "Only you."

"Good," he growled, his thumbs rubbing soothing but firm circles into your hips, anchoring you to the marble. "Because if I ever catch another guy looking at you the way that bastard did today, I'm not going to be this gentle."

He captured your mouth again, his tongue plunging deep into your throat, completely dominating your senses as the quiet evening dissolved into a sweet, heavy blur of heat and desire.

─── 🥡 ˑ 🥢 ˑ 🥠 ───

⊹ 𝐚/𝐧 : i would kill for chinese takeout right now but honestly i would kill even MORE for taehyung in loose sweatpants omg... 😭 rowdy, jealous tae on the kitchen counter had me almost losing my mind while writing this. hope you guys love this one !! 🥵💦

─── 🥡 ˑ 🥢 ˑ 🥠 ───

[kimflwr]

between the keys

Pairing: piano teacher!Kim Taehyung × student!Reader

Genre: smut, romance, slow burn, forbidden tension, teacher/student dynamic, attraction, mutual desire

Warnings: 18+, mature themes, explicit sexual content, power dynamic, sexual tension, flirting, dirty talk, voyeurism, mutual masturbation, oral sex, praise kink, explicit language, adult content

The studio was warm, gold lit by the late afternoon sun streaming through tall windows, dust motes dancing in the beams like tiny stars. YN sat on the piano bench, her fingers trembling over the keys, but she hadn't played a single note in the last three minutes. Because Taehyung, her piano teacher, the impossibly gorgeous, ridiculously talented, completely professional Taehyung, was leaning over her shoulder, his breath warm against her ear as he corrected her posture.

"Your wrists are too stiff," he murmured, his voice a low, velvety rumble that sent a shiver straight down her spine. His hand, god, those hands, gently wrapped around her wrist, lifting it, adjusting the angle. His fingers were long, elegant, with prominent veins that disappeared into the cuffs of his crisp white shirt. YN watched them move, mesmerized, as he demonstrated the proper relaxation technique, his thumb pressing into the soft flesh of her palm.

She swallowed hard. Her mouth went dry.

"Relax, YN," he said, and there was a hint of amusement in his tone. He must have noticed her stiffness. "You're not going to break the piano."

No, she thought, but I might break my composure if you keep touching me like that.

She'd booked this lesson three months in advance. Three months of waiting, of hearing rumors about the famous pianist who taught only the most dedicated students, who had a waiting list that stretched into next year. She'd imagined a stern old professor with gray hair and thick glasses. Not this. Not a man who looked like he'd stepped out of a magazine, with sharp jawlines, full lips, and eyes that crinkled when he smiled, a smile that made her forget every single scale she'd ever practiced.

And then there were his fingers.

Long, nimble, perfectly shaped. She'd watched them dance across the keys during his demonstration of Chopin's Ballade No. 1, watched them stretch and curl and press with impossible precision. Her own fingers felt like clumsy sausages in comparison. But more than that, she couldn't stop thinking about what else those fingers could do. How they'd feel tracing down her spine, gripping her hips, slipping inside her-

"YN." His voice cut through her reverie. "You're zoning out again."

She blinked, heat flooding her cheeks. "Sorry. I- I'm sorry."

"It's fine." He straightened, and she caught the faintest hint of his cologne . "Let's try again. From the top of the second movement. Focus on the dynamic changes."

She nodded, placed her hands on the keys, and tried to breathe. But her eyes kept drifting to his hands as he stepped back, resting them on the edge of the grand piano. Those hands. Those perfect, artistic, capable hands.

The music started, but her mind was elsewhere. She was imagining those fingers wrapped around her throat. She was imagining them sliding through her hair, gripping her by the roots and pulling her head back. She was imagining them inside her, curling, pressing, making her moan so loud the neighbors would hear.

Her playing faltered. A wrong note. Then another.

Taehyung sighed softly and stepped closer again. "Your mind is not here today, it's... somewhere else."

He leaned down, his face level with hers, those dark eyes searching. "Tell me what's distracting you."

And it happened. The words slipped out before she could stop them, a quiet, breathless murmur that she'd meant to keep locked deep inside her skull:

"I wonder what else those fingers can do."

The moment the words left her lips, she froze. Her eyes widened. Her heart stopped. The air in the room seemed to crystallize.

Taehyung went completely still.

For a long, agonizing second, neither of them moved. Then he straightened slowly, his expression unreadable. He walked around the piano bench, each step deliberate, and stopped directly in front of her. He looked down at her, and the soft, professional warmth in his eyes was gone.

"Repeat that," he said, his voice low and dangerous.

YN's throat tightened. "I- i didn't mean to-"

"Yes, you did." He crouched down so he was at eye level with her, his knees brushing against hers. "You said it. I heard it. Now I want you to say it again. Properly."

She could feel the heat radiating off his body. Could see the slight dilation of his pupils, the way his chest rose and fell a little faster than before. The gentlemanly mask he always wore was cracking, and underneath she glimpsed something feral.

Her mouth opened. "I said... I wonder what else those fingers can do."

He let out a slow breath, and his lips curled into a smirk that made her thighs clench. "That's a very dangerous question for a student to ask her teacher."

"Am I in trouble?" she asked, her voice shaking but not from fear.

"The biggest trouble you've ever been in." He reached out and took her hand, turning it palm up. His thumb traced a slow circle in the center of her palm, sending electricity up her arm. "Because now I have to teach you a new lesson. One that has nothing to do with the piano."

He stood and extended his hand. "Stand up."

She obeyed, her legs like jelly. He led her away from the bench, toward the wall, and turned her so her back was against the cool surface. He caged her in with his arms, palms flat against the wall on either side of her head.

"What are you going to do?" she breathed.

"First," he said, "I'm going to make you show me how much you want this. Touch yourself. Right here. Right now."

Her eyes widened. "sir-"

"You said you wanted to know what else my fingers could do." His voice was a silken whisper. "I want to see how you touch yourself first. So I can learn. So I can do it better."

She hesitated, but the look in his eyes left no room for argument. Slowly, her hand traveled down her stomach, past the waistband of her skirt. She slid her fingers under her panties, already soaked, and let out a soft gasp as she touched her clit.

"That's it," he praised, his voice husky. "Show me. Let me watch."

She began to circle her sensitive nub, her breath coming in short, needy pants. The wet sounds of her fingers slipping through her folds filled the quiet studio, obscenely loud in the space usually reserved for Chopin and Debussy.

"You're so wet," he observed, his eyes fixed on her moving hand. "How long have you been thinking about this?"

"Since the first lesson," she admitted, her voice breaking. "I couldn't stop staring at your hands. Every time you played, I imagined them on me."

He groaned, low and guttural. "Fuck. That's so filthy. My sweet little student, getting herself off while thinking about her teacher's fingers."

"You're not helping," she whimpered, her hips grinding into her own hand.

"Good." He watched her for another moment, then reached down and unbuttoned his pants. His cock sprang free, thick and already hard, the tip glistening with pre cum. He wrapped his fingers around himself. those long, elegant fingers and began to stroke slowly, matching the rhythm of her own hand.

Her eyes locked on the sight. "Oh god, fuck..."

"Keep going," he commanded. "Touch yourself faster. I want to hear how wet you get. I want to hear those sloppy sounds."

She obeyed, plunging two fingers inside herself, the wet squelch echoing in the room. "Like this? Do you like watching me fuck myself?"

"Fuck yes." His hand moved faster, the wet sound of his palm sliding over his cock joining the symphony of her arousal. "You're so beautiful when you're desperate. Keep talking. Tell me what you want my fingers to do."

"I want them inside me," she panted, her fingers pumping faster. "I want you to curl them just right, hit that spot that makes me see stars. I want you to stretch me open with three fingers while you suck on my clit."

"Jesus Christ." His strokes became erratic, his breathing ragged. "You're going to make me cum just from your words alone."

"Good." She pulled her fingers out and brought them to her mouth, sucking them clean, tasting herself. "I want to taste your cum on my tongue. I want to lick it off your fingers."

He stepped forward, crowding her against the wall, and replaced her hand with his own. His fingers slid into her wetness without resistance, two at once, and she cried out at the sudden fullness.

"Is this what you wanted?" he asked, his thumb finding her clit, pressing hard circles.

"Y-yes"

"Then take it." He began to finger fuck her with long, deep strokes, his palm slapping against her slick folds. The sounds were filthy, loud, and wet noise of a cunt being thoroughly used. "Take every inch of my fingers. You wanted to know what they could do? I'll show you. I'll show you until you can't stand."

Her head fell back against the wall, her moans unrestrained. "Oh oh fuck, I'm gonna-ahhh"

"Cum for me," he ordered, curling his fingers just right, hitting that spot that made her legs buckle. "Cum all over my hand. Let me feel you."

She shattered, her walls clamping down around his fingers, her juices gushing out, soaking his hand, the sound of her orgasm a wet, gushing chorus. He kept pumping, milking every last drop, his fingers never stopping until she was a trembling mess.

Then he pulled his hand out, brought his slick fingers to his mouth, and licked them clean, his eyes never leaving hers. "Delicious."

She was still panting, her body limp against the wall. "Now you," she managed. "I want to watch you cum."

He didn't need to be told twice. He wrapped his hand around his cock, still covered in her wetness, and began to stroke fast and rough. "Watch me, baby. Watch me cum for you."

His hips thrust into his fist, his head thrown back, the muscles in his neck straining. "Fuck-fuck.I'm-"

The first rope of cum shot across his hand, then another, splattering onto her skirt and the floor. He groaned, long and broken, his cock twitching with each pulse.

When he finally opened his eyes, he looked at her, breathing hard, a small, satisfied smile on his lips. "I think that's enough lesson for today."

YN laughed weakly. "What about my piano lesson?"

He leaned in and kissed her, slow and deep, tasting herself on his lips. "I think you've learned exactly what those fingers can do. Now," he said, pulling back, his eyes dark and promising, "let's see if you can still play that Chopin piece with those same hands... while you're still dripping."

She blushed scarlet, but she couldn't help the grin spreading across her face. "You're a terrible teacher."

"And you," he murmured, helping her straighten her clothes, "are my favorite student."

[btsrare]

like or reblog if you save. 𐙚

[vkookthingsposts]

My boys!!!

[ts-mia1]

Saw a girl wearing this outfit and i just had to get it for myself

[thickktae]

✦ Masterlist ✦

Series Masterlist

Chapter 1 — The New Roommate

📌 ROOMMATE NOONA | KIM TAEHYUNG × CURVY READER !Y/N

📎 Pairing:

Kim Taehyung (College Freshman) × Y/N (Upperclassman & Roommate)

📁 Summary:

Taehyung moves into a shared apartment with his new noona roommate, expecting a quiet start to university life. One look at her in that thin tank top and everything changes. She’s teasing, bold, and completely aware of the effect she has on him. By the end of their first night, the shy, inexperienced boy is left hard, ruined, and completely under her control.

🖤 Tone:

Dark • Tense • Psychological • Slow Burn • Obsessive • Power-Driven • Morally Grey Romance

📚 Genre:

Dark Romance • Roommate Romance • Noona × junior • Psychological Romance • Coming-of-Age Temptation

⚠️ Themes / Warnings (18+):

Age-gap / noona dynamics

Power imbalance

Manipulation

Sexual tension / slow burn

Innocent male lead

Possessive / teasing female lead

Mature language

Explicit content

Emotional conflict

Toxic temptation

🔞 MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

This series is intended for 18+ readers only. It contains mature themes, manipulation, toxic relationship dynamics, and dark romance. Please read the warnings before continuing.

Updates every Wednesday. ♡

I know you want my touch for life

If you love me right, then who knows?

I might let you make me Juno

Kim Taehyung had never felt this kind of nervousness before not when he gave his high school valedictorian speech, not even when his father first made him shadow long, mind-numbing audits at his accounting firm every summer break. But standing in front of this unfamiliar apartment door in Seoul with his duffel bag slung over his shoulder and his black tee clinging to his back he felt his heartbeat thudding in his throat.

He rang the doorbell once. Twice. He adjusted his glasses, combed his hair back with his palm, silently praying he didn’t look as awkward as he felt.

The door swung open and for a second, he forgot how to breathe.

There she was Y/N the girl his mother mentioned vaguely on the phone: “A nice upperclassman who’ll share the flat with you she’ll look out for you, Taehyungie.” Look out for him, right.

He swallowed hard.

She was standing there barefoot, hair damp and dripping onto the thin strap of her white tank top. It clung to her skin hugged the generous swell of her bust dipped just enough for his gaze to drop before he could stop it. Her shorts barely covered her thighs soft, thick, pale with a dusting of tiny freckles on the swell above her knee.

She smiled at him then sharp siren eyes, glossy lips parted into a perfect noona’s grin. God help me, he thought.

“You must be Taehyung, right?” Her voice was soft but teasing, dripping honey into his chest. “Come in, baby. It’s hot out there.”

Baby. He nearly choked on it but stepped inside quickly, mumbling, “Y-yes, thank you, noona.”

The place was cozy books stacked on the coffee table, laundry basket overflowing near the couch, a half-drunk iced coffee on the kitchen counter. It smelled like her shampoo coconut and something sweet and it made his ears burn.

They exchanged the usual pleasantries. He told her he’d be studying accounting like his father, who was practically a legend back home. He stumbled over a few words when she perched on the armrest, one thick thigh brushing his sleeve as she leaned in to peek at his schedule.

“Such a serious boy,” she teased, tapping his notebook with a perfectly manicured finger. “All numbers and no fun?”

He smiled shyly. If only she knew. There was never fun. Only textbooks. His strict Catholic upbringing saw to that. He’d never had a girlfriend, never even kissed someone properly. He couldn’t it was supposed to be special, with the one he’d spend his life with. Or at least, that’s what he always told himself. His mother’s voice was always in his ear: “Your body is your temple, Taehyung-ah. Don’t defile it.”

But then Y/N stood up, humming as she padded over to the kitchen. She lifted her damp hair off her neck and twisted it in a towel, revealing the soft line of her shoulders and the subtle bounce of her breasts through that thin tank top.

Taehyung told himself not to stare. He really did.

But when she bent over to plug in the kettle the neckline dipped so low he caught a glimpse of the lacy edge of her bra. A tiny mole sat right at the curve of her cleavage. He bit down on his bottom lip so hard it hurt. His jeans felt too tight, painfully tight he shifted on the couch, flipping open a textbook just for something to do with his hands.

He was failing miserably. His mind was screaming prayers and curses all at once.

Then her shadow fell over his pages. He didn’t even hear her move. She was there towel draped around her shoulders, hair wild and damp, her scent washing over him.

“You studying already?” she asked, mock surprise in her voice. “God, you really are my serious babyboy, huh?”

Babyboy.

Taehyung’s throat bobbed as he swallowed. “I — I need to keep up, noona. I—”

She leaned down, too close. Her cleavage right there, the curve of her breasts framed perfectly in that tank. He swore he could feel the heat radiating off her skin. And then her eyes flicked down right to the obvious tent straining his pants. Her lips curled into a sly smile.

“Where are you looking at, babyboy?”

His eyes shot up, wide, panic blooming in his chest. He stammered. “N-noona, I wasn’t — I didn’t mean—”

But her hand soft, warm dropped to his thigh, slid higher until her palm pressed firmly over the outline of his cock through the cheap denim. Taehyung’s breath hitched so hard he nearly choked. His whole body jerked.

“Noona — w-what are you doing?” he whispered, voice trembling.

“Relax,” she cooed, fingers tracing the swollen ridge through his pants. “So cute. You’re so hard for me already? Poor baby, were you looking at my tits the whole time?”

He felt dizzy. Shame and lust fought inside him, a filthy battle he knew he was losing. He gripped the edge of his textbook so hard his knuckles went white.

“You shouldn’t — we shouldn’t—”

“Mm.” She pressed her palm harder, thumb brushing over the leaking tip through the cotton. “I think you want this, don’t you? Such a big boy acting all shy. So easy to get you all worked up, huh?”

Her hand slipped past the waistband warm fingers wrapping around the throbbing length of him. He gasped, biting down on his tongue so he wouldn’t moan like a desperate boy. She giggled that sweet, dangerous giggle that told him she knew exactly what she was doing.

She stroked him slowly, thumb smearing the precum leaking from the tip, teasing circles over the sensitive head. “Bet you’ve never had a girl touch you like this, hmm? All those days back home so proper and boring, weren’t they?”

“N-noona, please—” he gasped.

“Please what?” She purred, leaning in until her lips brushed the shell of his ear. “Want noona to help you finish, babyboy?”

His hips bucked helplessly, embarrassment turning his ears bright red. He was so close, so fucking close he could taste it.

And then she pulled her hand out, wicked grin spreading on her pretty lips. She gave his cock one last slow pump, watching him twitch under her touch.

“Good boys can wait,” she whispered. Then she stood, flicked her damp hair over her shoulder, and padded toward her bedroom leaving him flushed, painfully hard, and so, so ruined.

The door clicked shut behind her. Taehyung stared at the ceiling, panting his cock still leaking, straining against the fabric of his jeans.

He was fucked.

Absolutely, deliciously fucked.

-----

Author's Note ✦

Thank you so much for reading Chapter 1 The New Roommate! 🤍

If you enjoyed this chapter, please leave a like, reblog, and comment it truly means the world to me. Every interaction helps my work reach more readers and motivates me to keep writing.

Please don't be a silent reader. Even a simple "I loved this!", a favorite moment, or your theories for what's coming next makes my day and encourages me to continue the series.

📌 Reblog to help this fic reach more people.

💬 Comment with your thoughts and predictions.

❤️ Like if you enjoyed reading.

Thank you for supporting my writing. See you in Chapter 2! ♡

[frenchbangtaner]