after hours ━━ 1.1k ˚ smut
pairings: idol!taehyung x idol!reader genre: enemies to lovers, semi-public, secret hookup, soft aftercare tags/warnings: explicit sexual content (18+), dom!taehyung, oral (f receiving), mirror sex, public risk, enemies to lovers, overstimulation, hair pulling, hand over mouth, “they’ll hear us”, possessive taehyung, body worship, sweat + skin, breathy moans, soft aftercare, unprotected sex (be safe irl), intense eye contact, desperate pacing, mirror kink undertones
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summary: it’s late, the practice room empty except for you and taehyung. weeks of stolen looks and unspoken frustration finally crack open, and suddenly everything changes. there’s nervousness, desperation, and that shaky thrill of doing something you shouldn’t, knowing someone could walk in at any second. it’s messy, it’s loud, it’s real. and beneath it all, there’s a quiet need neither of you wants to admit out loud.
the practice room is mostly dark, lit only by the faint hallway light seeping in through the glass panel on the door. the air still smells like sweat and speaker static. your limbs are sore from hours of choreography, but you haven’t left yet. neither has he.
you sit against the mirror, pretending to scroll through your phone, pretending you don’t see taehyung in the reflection. he’s sitting on the floor, shirt clinging to his skin, head tilted back as he sips from a water bottle. his eyes meet yours in the glass. he smirks. you immediately look away.
he’s been acting like this for days. too close, too cocky, too... aware. the way he watches you during formations, the way his voice drops when he asks if you “need help running that again.” it’s infuriating. it’s confusing. it’s hot.
“you gonna keep staring?” he says suddenly, voice casual, almost bored.
“i’m not,” you lie, standing and grabbing your bag, heart already racing.
“don’t leave just yet,” he says. you hear him stand too, hear the soft thud of his sneakers approaching. “i think we still have a few things to… work out.”
“like what?” you ask, turning slowly. your voice is sharper than you mean it to be.
he’s in front of you now, closer than he should be. his eyes drop to your mouth, then slowly back up.
“like the way you keep looking at me like you want me to fuck you against that mirror.”
your breath catches. the silence thickens.
“tae,” you whisper, warning in your tone, but your hands stay still at your sides. you don’t push him away.
“don’t pretend,” he murmurs. his fingers ghost over your hip, not quite touching. “you’ve been begging for this without saying a word.”
and then he’s kissing you.
his lips crash into yours, and everything you’ve been holding back spills forward. your hands grip his shirt, pulling him closer, while his tongue slides into your mouth like he’s claiming you. it’s messy. it’s fast. it’s been building for too long.
he backs you into the mirror, hands roaming, pulling at your waistband. you gasp into his mouth when his fingers dip beneath your leggings.
“already wet,” he breathes, dragging a finger through the heat. “knew it.”
“shut up,” you whisper, even as you rock your hips toward his hand.
he chuckles, low and rough, before sinking to his knees.
“don’t tell me what to do,” he says, hooking your leggings down your thighs. “you wanted this. now take it.”
you don’t even get a chance to respond before his mouth is on you. his tongue starts slow, deliberate, licking up your center like he’s tasting dessert. your head hits the mirror behind you, one hand flying into his hair, the other gripping the metal bar along the wall for balance.
he groans into you when you tug his hair, the vibration sending a jolt through your core. his grip tightens around your thighs, locking you in place as he picks up the pace. flicks, circles, sucking just enough to make your legs tremble.
“tae-” you gasp, but it comes out choked.
“shh,” he says without lifting his head. “they’ll hear you.”
you bite your lip hard enough to taste blood, your chest heaving. his tongue presses flat and wide, his nose brushing where you need him most, and you swear your knees buckle.
“fuck, i can’t,” you whisper, but you’re already close, hips twitching, thighs clenching around his face.
he pulls back just long enough to murmur, “yes, you can. give it to me.”
and when he sucks again, tight and perfect, your orgasm crashes through you like a tidal wave. you shudder against the glass, nearly collapsing, but he catches you with one arm, dragging his mouth up to yours. you taste yourself on his lips.
“you gonna come just from my mouth?” he teases, breath hot against your cheek. “haven’t even fucked you yet.”
you don’t answer. you just kiss him, hard, tugging at the waistband of his sweats. he groans as you wrap your hand around him, fingers stroking slow, teasing.
“then stop talking,” you say. “and do it.”
his laugh is sharp, almost disbelieving, and then he lifts you. your back hits the mirror again as he slides into you in one long, perfect thrust.
you cry out, louder than you meant to.
his hand clamps over your mouth.
“you want the whole building to hear how good i’m fucking you?” he hisses, eyes locked on yours.
you shake your head, but the pleasure in your stomach coils tight, impossible to ignore. he’s deep, impossibly so, his pace unforgiving. your nails dig into his shoulders, trying to ground yourself as he slams into you again and again.
“look at yourself,” he pants. “look how fucked out you are already.”
you do. you look.
in the mirror, you see it all. your legs wrapped around his waist, your shirt pushed up, your hair wild, your eyes wide. taehyung, sweaty and flushed, mouth parted, fucking you like he’s losing his mind.
“you wanted this,” he growls, thrusting harder. “you begged for it. now take it.”
you nod, too overwhelmed to speak. the pressure builds again, even more intense this time. every nerve is lit up. every thrust hits just right. you’re spiraling.
“please,” you whimper against his hand. “tae, please-”
“come,” he says. “right now.”
you do. violently. your whole body shakes, your mouth falling open in a silent cry, the pleasure crashing over you in waves. he groans as you clench around him, hips stuttering. a moment later he follows, moaning into your neck as he finishes deep inside you, trembling.
for a while, it’s just panting. your legs around him. his forehead resting on your shoulder. the glass behind you fogged up and slick with sweat.
finally, he pulls back, still holding you close.
“you good?” he asks softly.
you nod, brushing his damp hair off his forehead. his eyes are darker than usual, softer somehow.
“i should hate you,” you whisper.
he smiles. not smug. not sarcastic. real.
“you do,” he says. “that’s why it’s so good.”
he lowers you gently to the floor, grabs your leggings from where they’ve been discarded, and helps pull them back up. then he tucks himself back in, wipes his mouth with the sleeve of his hoodie, and looks at you like he’s memorizing the moment.
you don’t say anything else. you don’t need to.
you both know you’ll be back here again.
