#kittenanwritesv

The wedding had been beautiful.

Too beautiful.

White roses lined the aisle like a dream you weren’t sure belonged to you. Silk dresses, soft music, champagne that sparkled under chandelier lights, the kind of luxury you only ever saw in magazines. Everyone had smiled and whispered that the two of you looked perfect together, their voices sugary sweet.

You’d smiled too. But your palms were sweating inside Taehyung’s warm, steady grip.

Arranged marriages weren’t supposed to feel like this.

Not like a fairytale.

Not like falling into something soft and terrifying all at once.

But Taehyung leaned in that day, his breath brushing your cheek, eyes wide and earnest like he was promising you the world.

“I won’t ever touch you until you ask me to. Until you want it.” he murmured, voice low enough for only you. “I promise.”

Your breath caught.

You’d managed a tiny nod. A whispered “okay” that came out more like a sob.

And two months later… that promise still stood. A quiet barrier between you—warm, gentle… maddening.

He kept it in the sweetest, most devastating ways.

Every morning he kissed your forehead before leaving for work, a soft “Morning, sweetheart,” whispered against your skin, leaving you blinking up at him like a flustered fool.

He back-hugged you while you brushed your teeth, chin heavy on your head, humming half-asleep into your hair. “Mm… you smell nice,” he’d mumble, not even realizing he was killing you slowly.

He carried all the grocery bags with one hand, veins bulging, T-shirt stretching over his shoulders.

You’d stare.

He’d catch you staring.

And instead of teasing, he’d just smile. “You okay, baby?”

He let you fall asleep on his chest during movie nights, fingers absent-mindedly threading through your hair until you were drooling on his hoodie. “You’re so cute when you sleep,” he’d whisper, brushing your bangs back.

And every night, every single night, he’d pull you close under the covers, strong arms locking around your waist, body warm behind yours — and whisper into your neck, “Goodnight, wifey.”

You were drowning in him. Completely, helplessly drowning.

And he didn’t even know.

Because lately… your body had started betraying you.

The way he smelled when he came home, it made heat curl low in your belly. His deep voice when he said “baby or sweetheart or wifey” made you choke on your own air. The way his T-shirt clung to his back after a workout left your pulse hammering in places you didn’t admit.

You wanted him. God, you wanted him so badly.

But you were shy. Painfully, frustratingly shy.

So you did the only logical thing your shy, horny, newlywed brain could produce. You stole his clothes.

At first it was innocent.

An oversized white button-up you found in the laundry basket. You wore it while making tea, sleeves brushing your thighs, and felt… safe.

Wrapped in him.

Then it was one of his gray hoodies — so big it almost reached your knees. You curled up on the couch, tugging the sleeves over your hands, whispering into the collar, “Ugh… why do you smell so good?”

Then came the black crewneck. The one you knew he loved. The one that still smelled like his cologne even after washing. You wore it while working on your laptop, fingers brushing the fabric whenever you missed him, which was embarrassingly often.

You wore them when he wasn’t home.

Always when he wasn’t home.

Curled on the couch… On the bed… Sometimes standing in front of the mirror, pretending his arms were wrapped around your waist instead of fabric and imagination.

It was ridiculous. It was addictive. It was comfort. It was want.

And today… today you’d gone too far.

You finished your remote work early, shut your laptop with a satisfied sigh, and padded to the bathroom. A hot shower sounded like heaven, steam curling around you, loosening your muscles, making you feel warm and soft and reckless.

You stepped out wrapped in a towel, droplets sliding down your skin, hair dripping over your shoulders. You padded into the bedroom, humming under your breath, still flushed from the heat.

Your eyes landed on his shirt.

Not just any shirt, the oversized black one he always wore on lazy Sundays. Soft, worn-out cotton. Smelled like him even from across the room.

You stared at it.

Then at the towel barely staying on your body.

Then back at the shirt.

Your pulse stuttered.

“…Screw it,” you whispered.

The towel dropped to the floor.

You slipped the shirt on.

The sleeves swallowed your arms completely, the hem brushing mid-thigh. One shoulder slid down no matter how many times you tugged it up.

You looked tiny. Drowned. His.

It felt like he was wrapping himself around you.

You caught your reflection in the mirror, flushed cheeks, wet hair, bare legs peeking out beneath his shirt... and your breath hitched.

You held it against your chest, whispering to no one, “…Is it bad if I love this more than my clothes?”

You whispered, breath shaky. “Tae… what are you doing to me?”

You twirled in front of the mirror like a happy idiot, lifting your arms so the loose fabric floated around you. Then you hugged yourself tight, burying your face in the collar, breathing him in.

“Ugh... Why does this feel better than my own clothes?” you groaned into the fabric. “God… he’d laugh at me so hard if he saw me doing this.”

You were too busy cuddling his shirt to notice anything else.

Not the front door unlocking. Not his footsteps in the hall. Not the soft crinkle of the bouquet he’d brought to surprise you.

You only heard the quiet creak of the bedroom door.

And then, “Oh... My... God...”

The flowers slipped from his hand and hit the carpet.

You spun around so fast you almost tripped.

Taehyung stood in the doorway, completely stunned. Still in his work clothes —white button-up rolled up his arms, slacks hugging his thighs, hair a little messy like he’d rushed home.

His eyes dragged down your body slowly.

Too slowly. Taking in the sight.

His shirt. Your bare legs. Your flushed cheeks.

“Taehyung—!” you squeaked, trying to cover yourself even though his shirt already hung past mid-thigh. “You… you’re early!”

He didn’t answer. For a moment he didn’t even breathe.

Then he shut the door behind him, leaning against it, arms crossing over his chest. A slow, wicked smile curved his lips.

“…Having fun without me?”

Your soul left your body.

“I... I was just...” you stammered, voice going embarrassingly high. “I thought it would be… fun? Maybe? A little? I just... I don’t know!”

He pushed off the door, walking toward you with lazy, confident steps like a man who already owned the room and your heartbeat.

“Fun,” he repeated, voice dropping into that deep honey tone that always made your knees weak. “Baby… you’re wearing my shirt, looking like that… and you call it fun?”

You swallowed hard. “I didn’t think you’d see me…”

He stopped inches away, towering over you, and slid both hands around your waist, fingers splaying possessively over the fabric of his own shirt on your body. His breath was warm against your neck as he leaned in.

“Gorgeous,” he murmured, lips brushing the shell of your ear. “You can have my whole closet if this is how you look in my clothes.”

His thumb lifted your chin, forcing your shy gaze to meet his dark one.

“Have you tried on my shirts before?” he asked softly.

You froze. Then nodded slowly.

“Yeah?” he breathed, eyes darkening instantly. “How many times?”

“I... I don’t know,” you admitted, cheeks burning. “A few. Maybe more.”

Taehyung let out a low, hungry sound that made your stomach flip.

“You should’ve told me, sweetheart,” he whispered against your lips. “I would’ve helped you undress… and helped you try every single one… slow and careful.”

A tiny whimper escaped your throat.

He smiled, loving it.

With gentle pressure on your waist, he walked you backward step by step until the back of your knees hit the mattress. His body stayed close, heat radiating through the shirt you stole.

He ran his hand down your thigh, stopping at the hem of the shirt. His fingers brushed your bare skin, making you gasp.

“My shy little thief,” he murmured, kissing your cheek, then your jaw. “Stealing my clothes… stealing my scent… stealing my sanity... stealing my self-control…”

You trembled in his hands.

“And you know the worst part?” he whispered, lips brushing your ear. “I don’t want any of it back.”

You were shaking in his arms, cheeks burning hot, voice barely above a whisper. “I like how you smell…” you admitted, burying your face against his chest. “It… it makes me feel close to you.”

Taehyung froze. His breath hitched, like your words had punched the air out of his lungs. For a single heartbeat, he didn’t move.

Then he kissed you.

Hard. Messy. Hungry. Desperate.

He pressed his lips to yours, tongue sliding against yours, teeth nipping at your bottom lip until you whimpered into his mouth. One hand fisted in your hair, tilting your head exactly where he wanted it. The other gripped your waist, holding you as if you could disappear.

He broke away for just a second, growling against your lips, “Two months of waiting… baby... and you say that now?”

Before you could answer, he kissed you again, flipping you until his knees hit the bed. He sank onto it first, pulling you down so you straddled his lap, thighs pressed against either side of him.

The oversized shirt rode up immediately, pooling around your hips. You tried to tug it down, embarrassed, but he caught your wrists with his one hand, holding them gently behind your back with one hand.

“No more hiding,” he murmured, voice low and rough. “Let me look at you.”

His free hand slid under the shirt, palm gliding over your waist, thumb brushing against the underside of your breast. You gasped when his fingers circled your hardening nipples, teasing slowly.

You arched into his touch, shivering at the sensation.

You moved instinctively, trying to ease the ache in your core. The friction of your bare heat against his rigid pants made both of you freeze.

Taehyung groaned low, hips jerking up slightly. You felt him... thick, impossibly hard... beneath you. Your chest tightened with the knowledge that you had already made him like this.

His fingers dug into your hips, holding you firmly.

You rocked again, tiny and hesitant.

“Baby…” he warned, forehead pressing to yours, voice rough. “If you keep moving like that—”

You tested him again, slower this time, watching his face twist with pleasure and restraint. His grip tightened on your wrists, almost bruising.

“Wearing my clothes is cute…” he whispered, lips brushing your ear, hot breath against your skin. “But sitting here… without panties?”

He released your wrists to cup your ass, spreading you slightly. You gasped, nails digging into his shoulders, as your next movement ground against the hard length of him.

He growled into your neck, teeth grazing the tender skin.

“…that’s going to be a problem, sweetheart.”

You felt how soaked you already were, sliding over him effortlessly. The fabric of his slacks now dark and ruined where you’re pressed together. Every tiny movement sent sparks shooting up your spine.

“Taehyung...” you whimpered, unsure if you were begging or warning.

“I know,” he breathed, guiding your hips in a slow, filthy grind. “I know, baby. I’ve got you.”

He let you move against him, letting you find the rhythm, swallowing your moans with his mouth. “You feel so good like this…” he murmured, voice rough, teeth grazing your jaw.

“Taehyung… I... oh—I can’t…” you gasped, pressing closer, thighs trembling.

“Can’t what, baby?” he whispered, lips brushing your ear.

“Tell me… do you want me?”

“Yes… please…” you breathed, rocking a little harder. “I want… I need you… so bad.”

He groaned, gripping your hips tighter. “Damn, you’re so wet for me… all for me…”

“I—fuck...” you moaned, nails digging into his shoulders. “Tae… it feels so good…”

“You’re mine, baby,” he rasped, voice low and possessive. “Mine for wearing my shirt, mine for wanting me…”

Your body shivered, burning hotter with every word. Every teasing murmur from him made you ache more, and your thighs trembled uncontrollably against him.

Then he flipped you gently onto your back, crawling over you. His eyes burned black with want.

“Enough teasing,” he rasped, sliding the shirt higher. “Now… I’m going to take care of you properly.”

He lowered his lips, teeth, and hands, leaving a trail over every inch of skin the shirt exposed. His mouth pressed to your throat first, biting gently, making you gasp and whimper.

“Taehyung… ah—” you moaned, chest rising and falling.

He growled, sliding down to your collarbone, teeth grazing the sensitive skin, leaving dark, messy marks. Your fingers clawed at his shoulders as he nipped and sucked, pulling low groans from his chest.

“Fuck… you feel so good, baby,” he murmured, lips brushing below your jaw.

You shivered, tilting your head back. “Tae… more… please...”

His hands cupped your waist, thumbs teasing over your bare skin, keeping you pressed to him. Each bite, each kiss made you tremble and moan, your heat sliding over him with every tiny movement.

“God, I can't believe... you’re mine,” he groaned, lips leaving one last hickey below your jaw before capturing your mouth in another hungry kiss.

You clung to him, breathless, every moan spilling between you both, tangled, desperate, and entirely his.

When he reached the tops of your thighs, he paused, hands sliding under them, thumbs stroking the sensitive edge where leg met hip. He looked up at you, eyes dark, reverent, almost pleading.

You tried to close your legs out of pure reflex.

He didn’t let you.

“Let me see you,” he whispered again, voice cracking with awe. “Please, baby. I’ve dreamed about this.”

His big, warm palms spread you open so gently it made tears prick your eyes. The shirt had ridden up to your waist; cool air kissed your soaked core and you whimpered.

Taehyung’s breath stuttered.

“Fuck… look at you,” he breathed, voice trembling. “So pretty. So fucking perfect for me.”

He pressed a soft, open-mouthed kiss to the inside of your left thigh, then your right, lingering, inhaling like he was addicted to the scent of your skin.

“You have no idea how many nights I’ve thought about this,” he murmured against you, lips brushing your folds with every word. “How many times I’ve jerked off imagining your taste of you on my tongue.”

A broken sound escaped your throat. He smiled, slow and filthy, then dragged his tongue up your centre in one long, deliberate lick.

You cried out, hips jerking.

“Easy, sweetheart,” he soothed, pinning your thighs wider with his shoulders. “Let me take care of you.”

The second lick was slower, parting you, savouring. The third circled your clit with his tongue and you saw stars.

“Tae—”

“Shh, I know,” he hummed, the vibration making you clench around nothing. “You taste like heaven, baby. Sweeter than I dreamed.”

He licked into you like a man starved, tongue sliding deep, curling, fucking you open while his nose nudged your clit on every stroke.

Your hands flew to his hair, tugging hard.

He moaned into you, loud and shameless.

“That’s it, pull harder. Use me.”

He sucked your clit between his lips, gentle at first, then harder, flicking the tip of his tongue in quick, ruthless circles until your thighs started shaking uncontrollably.

“Taehyung, please...”

“Please what, sweetheart?” He pulled back just enough to speak, lips shiny, eyes glazed with lust. “Please stop? Or please make you fall apart on my face?”

You couldn’t answer, only sobbed his name.

He dove back in, merciless.

Two thick fingers slid inside you without warning, curling instantly against that spot that made your back arch clean off the bed.

“Look at you,” he groaned, pumping slowly, tongue still swirling. “Taking my fingers so well. Gonna take my cock just like this, aren’t you? Gonna let me ruin this pretty little pussy while you wear my shirt?”

The dirty praise sent you spiralling.

He felt it, felt you tightening, and doubled his efforts, sucking your clit hard while his fingers fucked you faster, palm grinding against you with every thrust.

“Come for me, baby,” he growled against your folds. “Come on my tongue. Want to drink every drop.”

Your orgasm crashed over you like a tidal wave.

You screamed his name, thighs clamping around his head, hips grinding helplessly against his mouth and fingers as pleasure tore through you in violent, endless waves.

He didn’t stop.

He licked you through it, gentler now, lapping softly, coaxing every aftershock until you were a trembling, sobbing mess.

Only then did he pull back, pressing one last reverent kiss to your swollen clit that made you jolt.

He crawled up your body, face glistening, eyes wild with love and hunger.

“You okay, my love?” he whispered, voice hoarse, brushing tears from your cheeks you hadn’t realized had fallen.

You could only nod, boneless, chest heaving.

He smiled, soft and proud and utterly wrecked.

“Good girl,” he murmured, kissing you slow and deep, letting you taste how completely you’d undone him. “Because I’m nowhere near done worshipping you.”

His lips were swollen, his chest rising hard, breath shaky. You were still trembling from the orgasm he had just pulled out of you, thighs messy, his shirt bunched beneath your ribs like a reminder of everything you had just shared.

Taehyung hovered above you, braced on his forearms, and simply stared.

“Look at you,” he whispered, voice completely ruined. “My pretty baby… wearing my shirt… shaking because of me.”

You tried to hide your face in the pillow, flustered. He didn’t let you.

His fingers caught your chin gently, but firmly enough to keep you with him. “No hiding,” he whispered. “Not tonight… not from me.”

His nose brushed yours, soft and warm and intimate. “You okay? Still right here with me?”

You nodded, though your throat felt tight. “I’m okay. I… I want you. All of you.”

His eyes fluttered shut like the words physically hit him. “God,” he breathed, voice cracking. “You can’t say things like that when I’m trying to stay gentle.”

He kissed you softly, slow presses of his mouth that made your chest ache. Then deeper... warm tongue, soft teeth, hungry breath, until your head spun.

You felt him hard against your thigh, thick and hot through his slacks. Your hips moved without thinking.

He broke the kiss with a shaky hiss. “Baby… wait, I need to—”

He reached for the drawer, one hand still cupping your cheek like you were fragile. The condom packet trembled between his fingers. Seeing him nervous, made your heart squeeze.

You sat up a bit, fingers curling into the open fabric of his shirt. “Let me see you too.”

He let you push the shirt down his arms. Golden skin... Sharp collarbones... V-line peeking out under his belt. You followed that faint line with your fingertip. He shivered.

“Cold?” you teased softly.

“No,” he breathed out a tiny, shy laugh. “Just trying not to lose it before I’m even inside you.”

He stood only long enough to shove his pants and briefs down, kicking them aside carelessly.

Your breath caught.

He was beautiful. Thick, flushed, already leaking for you.

He rolled the condom on with slightly clumsy fingers, muttering a soft “shit” when it snagged.

Then he was back over you... warm, solid, settling between your open thighs like he had always belonged there.

“Tell me again,” he whispered against your lips. “Tell me you are ready. Tell me you want this.”

“I want you, Taehyung. Please.”

He exhaled your name like a prayer and lined himself up, dragging the head slowly through your wetness, coating himself.

Your hips jerked on instinct.

“Easy,” he soothed, kissing your temple, your cheek, the corner of your mouth. “I’ve got you.”

He pushed in... slow, so slow, never looking away from your eyes.

The stretch burned. It burned and bloomed at the same time. You felt full, overwhelmed, breathless. A whimper escaped you, nails digging into his shoulders.

He froze instantly. “Too much? Want me to pull out?”

“No,” you gasped, half-laughing, half-moan, “just… big.”

A shaky laugh escaped him, his forehead resting on yours. “I’ll go slow. I promise.”

He pushed deeper inch by inch, letting you feel everything, until he was fully inside and both of you were trembling.

“Fuck, baby,” he groaned, voice cracking. “You’re so tight… so perfect around me.”

He stayed still, letting your body relax, kissing your eyelids, the tip of your nose, anything he could reach.

“You feel that?” he whispered, rolling his hips just a tiny bit. “That’s me inside you. I’m yours. All yours.”

You clenched without meaning to. His hips stuttered. “Fuck... Don’t do that unless you want me gone in ten seconds.”

You laughed through the haze, breath shaky. He laughed too, forehead against yours. It made everything warm, soft, safe.

He started moving... slow, deep strokes that touched every sensitive place inside you. The shirt you wore... his shirt — rode up with every thrust, exposing your stomach, ribs, the curve of your breasts.

“Look at you,” he rasped, eyes dark with emotion and heat. “So small in my clothes… taking me so well… my perfect girl... my wife.”

He kissed down your throat, sucking new marks beside the ones he had left earlier, kissing the sting after each one.

“I love seeing you like this,” he whispered against your skin. “Knowing you wear my things… think about me… get wet for me…”

Your back arched, a soft desperate sound leaving your throat.

His hand slid between your bodies, fingers pressing against your slick heat while he thrust inside you, hard and slow at first, then faster as he lost control. His thumb found your clit instantly, pressing and circling like he knew every nerve, every sensitive spot that made you shiver.

“Oh… Tae—” you moaned, head falling back against the pillow, body arching into him. “Ah… harder… please…”

He groaned, low and rough, the sound vibrating through your chest. “Fuck… you feel so good, baby… so tight, so wet…” His hips jerked violently, driving deep into you as his thumb worked magic against your clit.

You whimpered, nails digging into his shoulders. “Taehyung… I’m—oh! I’m—”

“Come for me again... baby,” he coaxed, voice soft but intense. “I want to feel it… want to feel you fall apart on me while you’re wearing my shirt.”

Everything hit you at once — his voice, his words, his body.

Your body trembled uncontrollably.

His thumb flicked faster, harder, keeping you on the edge while his thrusts became punishing, relentless. You couldn’t hold it in anymore... a shuddering gasp tore from your lips, and your slickness spurted over his fingers.

“Ohh... fuck! Taehyung! I’m... ahhhh! I’m cumming!”

He groaned, thrusting through your orgasm like he wanted to match you. “Shit… baby, look at you… so wet… so perfect…”

He groaned, his rhythm breaking. “That’s it… fuck, baby… that’s my girl…” His thrusts grew rougher, desperate, chasing the edge. “Close… baby, I’m so close—”

You wrapped your legs around him, pulling him deeper, and whispered, “Come for me, Tae. I want to feel you.”

He broke.

A raw, broken moan fell from his lips as he buried himself deep, hips jerking helplessly through his orgasm, your name spilling out of his mouth like a promise.

He stayed there, chest pressed to yours, breathing hard, the room quiet except for your mixed breaths and the soft rustle of fabric against sweaty skin.

He didn’t pull out right away.

Just kissed you — slow, lazy, gentle, like he wanted to taste every emotion on your tongue. “My beautiful wife… My shy little thief… I love you so much it scares me…”

You didn’t even realize you were crying until he kissed your tears away.

Taehyung didn’t move at first.

He stayed inside you, holding you like he feared you might disappear if he let go. His arms wrapped around your shaking body, pulling you tight to his chest.

He pressed slow kisses everywhere his lips could reach... your shoulder, your temple, the corner of your lips — gentle, soft, almost shy, like he thanked your skin for letting him touch you.

When he finally slipped out, he did it carefully, his voice low and warm. “Easy, baby… I’ve got you.”

He rolled you onto his chest, settling you there like that was exactly where you belonged.

One big hand stroked your spine, steady and grounding, bringing you back from the haze. The other cupped the back of your head, his fingers combing through your hair like he tried to comfort you after a nightmare.

He slowly took off the stretched, ruined black shirt from your body, like it was something delicate and, set it aside. Then he disappeared for only a moment and returned with a warm cloth. He knelt between your thighs again, cleaning you with soft, almost trembling touches.

Every time you flinched, he whispered, “I’m sorry, sweetheart… if I was rough... I’m right here.”

He kissed the inside of your knee when you whimpered, trying to make you smile even through the soreness.

He brought you water next, held the glass to your lips. When you pouted for another sip, he gave it to you right away, wiping the tiny drop from your lip with his thumb, smiling like he fell deeper for you.

Your thighs ached, and he noticed instantly.

His hands... those gentle, patient hands, started massaging the sore muscles, slow circles, warm pressure. “I’m sorry if I was too much,” he murmured every time your breath caught.

But his voice stayed soft, full of pride and love.

He fixed your hair next, tucked it behind your ear, and kissed your cheek with an affection so pure it made your chest tighten.

Then he pulled one of his softest hoodies over your head, the one that smelled like him. It slipped to your thighs, the sleeves covering your hands entirely.

“Perfect,” he said softly, admiring you like you were his entire world wrapped in his clothes.

You hid in the hood.

He giggled — that warm, breathy little sound, and gently pulled your hands away so he could pepper your cheeks with kisses. He tucked you both under the blanket, arranging you exactly how he wanted, your leg over his hip, your cheek on his chest, his arm under your head.

Your place. Your home.

He was about to say something sweet when your stomach growled.

Loud.

You froze. Then mumbled into his chest, “Shit… I didn’t prepare anything for dinner. Now I’m hungry…”

Taehyung laughed... that deep, golden laugh that melted your heart.

“Sweetheart… you think I came home early without planning anything?”

He suddenly remembered the flowers near the door. “Oh— wait!” He stood up and grabbed them.

He held them out to you like they were precious, before again settling beside you. “I even brought flowers for you.”

Your eyes softened instantly, warmth gathering in your chest.

“And I booked a restaurant. Wanted to take you out for a date.”

You buried your face in his chest, whining softly. “I can’t walk anywhere… I’m sore…”

He kissed your forehead, smiling like he adored every bit of you.

“I know. That’s why I cancelled.” He tapped your nose gently. “And told them to send takeout instead.”

You smiled, slow and sleepy. “You spoil me…”

He pulled you closer, his voice warm and full of love. “Of course I do. You’re my wife. Now rest until the food arrives.”

You curled into him, feeling safe, loved, and treasured.

He whispered into your hair, voice low and deep, “Wear my clothes every day. And if you ever want me again… just tell me, princess. I’ll always come to you.”

The apartment was wrapped in a heavy, suffocating quiet that night, the kind that followed a fight neither of you had truly meant to let spiral so far.

The argument had ended badly.

You had stormed off to the guest room, clutching your pride like a shield, even though deep down you were already hoping he would come after you.

You were in nothing but Taehyung’s oversized black t-shirt that fell loosely to mid-thigh and a pair of simple black panties underneath. The fabric still carried his warm, familiar scent.

You crawled under the thin blanket, your bare legs brushing against the cool sheets, and tried to force yourself to sleep.

But sleep wouldn’t come.

The bed felt too big, too empty, too wrong.

Usually, Taehyung would already be there, beside you, stealing most of the blanket with one lazy tug, throwing a heavy arm over your waist to pull you close, pressing his face into the crook of your neck so you could feel his warm breath and the soft tickle of his hair.

He’d mumble half-asleep nonsense—random lyrics, complaints about the day, or silly “I love you”s that made no sense but still made your heart flutter.

Tonight, there was only silence.

Cold, stubborn silence.

You turned onto your side, hugging the pillow tightly to your chest, and whispered into it, voice barely audible in the dark room. “Idiot… I hate fighting with him. Why did we even say those things? He’s such a stubborn fool… and I’m worse.”

You sighed deeply, eyes stinging with unshed tears you refused to let fall. Your heart ached with missing him already, the fight feeling smaller and smaller with every passing minute.

The apartment felt too still without his presence, without the low hum of his breathing or the way he always found some way to touch you even in sleep.

Meanwhile, in the shared bedroom, Taehyung laid alone on his side of the large bed you usually shared. The room felt hollow without you in it.

He ran his long fingers slowly over your pillow, tracing the space where your head had rested that morning. The faint scent of your shampoo still lingered there, and it made his chest tighten uncomfortably.

He replayed the argument in his head over and over, jaw clenched.

The harsh words, the raised voices, the way your eyes had flashed with hurt before you turned away.

He hadn’t meant any of it. Not really.

He never did when things got heated like that. But his stupid pride had kept him rooted here, lying in bed in the dark like an idiot instead of going to you immediately.

“Damn it…” he muttered under his breath, voice low and rough. “Why do we always do this? I hate seeing her upset. I hate it more when I’m the reason. Why tf did I even tell her about giving space?”

He rubbed a hand over his face, exhaling sharply.

The silence in the room pressed in on him, making the emptiness even louder. He missed the way you’d curl into his side without thinking, the soft laugh you’d give when he teased you, the way your fingers would find his under the covers.

One hour. That was all he could last.

“I should’ve just said sorry right away,” he whispered to the empty room, standing up slowly. His heart was already pulling him toward the guest room.

“She’s probably lying there pretending she’s fine… but I know her. She’s missing me too. God, I’m such an idiot for letting her sleep alone.”

Taehyung ran his fingers through his messy hair, a small, tired smile tugging at his lips despite everything. He knew he couldn’t stay away any longer.

The need to hold you, to fix this, to feel you close again... it was stronger than any stubbornness left in him.

He walked quietly down the hallway, bare feet silent on the cool floor, until he reached the guest room door.

His hand hovered for a moment, then he gave a soft, hesitant knock.

The soft knock at the guest room door came just after 1 a.m., cutting through the heavy silence like a gentle reminder that the night wasn’t meant to end in separate beds.

You already knew it was him before you even lifted your head from the pillow. Your heart gave a small, traitorous flutter despite the lingering hurt from the fight.

You sat up slowly, the oversized t-shirt slipping off one shoulder as you called out, voice still heavy with pretended annoyance, “Come in.”

Taehyung pushed the door open and stood there in the low light spilling from the hallway. His hair was adorably messy, dark strands falling over his forehead in that effortlessly charming way.

His eyes looked tired, a little red-rimmed from the long evening, but they carried that familiar warmth when they landed on you—the kind that always made your resolve waver.

He was wearing only a simple black tank top and grey sweatpants, looking every bit as exhausted and soft as you felt.

He leaned against the doorframe for a second, rubbing the back of his neck, then said in a voice softer than usual, almost hesitant, “I came to take something of mine in here.”

Your heart sank instantly.

Of course. He hadn’t come for you.

He was just here for some forgotten item... his laptop charger maybe, or a book, whatever. The disappointment hit harder than you expected after already missing him so much.

You forced a small scoff, crossing your arms over your chest and trying to sound irritated. “Then take it and let me sleep peacefully, Kim Taehyung. I don’t have time for this right now.”

He didn’t move at first.

Instead, he stepped fully into the room, his gaze drifting over you—bare legs tangled in the blanket, his oversized t-shirt draped loosely over your body, the way your hair must have looked messy from tossing and turning.

Something in his expression shifted, a quiet pause as if he was drinking you in after the minutes apart. The corner of his mouth twitched, but he stayed silent for a beat longer than necessary.

Then, without another word, he crossed the room in two long strides.

Before you could even protest properly, his strong arms slid under you. With effortless strength, he lifted you clean off the bed and tossed you over his broad shoulder like you weighed nothing.

A surprised gasp escaped your lips as the world tilted.

Your stomach pressed against his shoulder, one of his hands steadying you firmly on your lower back while the other rested high on the back of your thigh.

The oversized t-shirt rode up dangerously as he adjusted his grip, cool air brushing your bare skin and the edge of your panties.

“Kim Taehyung!” you exclaimed, half-laughing, half-protesting as you dangled there, your hands instinctively gripping the back of his tank top for balance. “Put me down right now! What do you think you’re doing?”

He didn’t answer immediately.

Instead, as he turned toward the door, he murmured softly against your waist, his warm breath fanning over the strip of bare skin where the t-shirt had ridden up. “Found it.”

The words were low, almost a whisper, laced with that deep, velvety voice that always sent shivers down your spine.

Then he pressed a soft, lingering peck right on your exposed waist... gentle, warm lips against your skin that made you shiver visibly, a small involuntary sound slipping from your throat.

You smiled hard despite yourself, biting your lip to keep from grinning like an idiot while you were still supposed to be annoyed. Your heart was racing now, the earlier disappointment melting away under his touch.

“Taehyung, I’m serious,” you said dramatically, though your voice had already softened with affection as he started walking out of the guest room, carrying you like it was the most natural thing in the world.

“Put me down! This is ridiculous. I was trying to sleep peacefully, you know.”

“No,” he replied instantly, the single word firm and certain, carrying no room for argument.

There was a hint of a smirk in his tone, that playful dominance he sometimes slipped into when he wanted to remind you exactly where you belonged.

You let out a dramatic huff, kicking your legs lightly in protest even as your hands clutched his back tighter. “You can’t just come in here and kidnap me like this! What if I wanted to stay in the guest room tonight? What happened to your "giving each other space rule" after a fight?”

He chuckled lowly, the sound vibrating through his chest and into your body as he carried you down the short hallway.

His hand on your thigh squeezed gently, warm and possessive, thumb brushing slow circles against your bare skin. “Space? After you stole my favorite t-shirt and left me alone in our bed? Not happening, sweetheart.”

You couldn’t help the small laugh that bubbled up. “I didn’t steal it. You left it on the chair. And you were the one being stubborn earlier, not me!”

“Stubborn? Me?” Taehyung’s voice was teasing now, warm and intimate as he nudged open the door to your shared bedroom with his foot.

“I know I am idiot for talking about space but you really ran off to the guest room instead of talking it out. I was sitting there missing you like crazy, replaying everything we said. I hated every second without you.”

Your protests quieted a little at his honest admission, your cheek resting against his back as he walked. “Well… I hated it too,” you admitted softly, voice muffled.

“The bed felt wrong without you stealing the blanket and mumbling nonsense in my ear.”

He hummed in agreement, finally stepping fully into the familiar bedroom. “Exactly. So no more sleeping anywhere else. You belong right here… with me.”

You smiled again, heart swelling even as you kept up the playful act. “You’re impossible, Kim Taehyung. Always thinking you can just throw me over your shoulder and fix everything.”

He gave your thigh another gentle squeeze, voice dropping lower with quiet affection. “It worked, didn’t it? Now stop complaining and let me take care of my wife.”

The shared bedroom door clicked shut softly behind you both as he carried you inside, the warmth of his body and the certainty in his hold making the earlier fight feel like a distant memory already.

He moved toward the large bed without hesitation, his strong arms still holding you securely over his shoulder until he reached the edge.

Taehyung lowered you down and sat first on the mattress, then guided you into his lap so you were straddling him comfortably.

Your bare thighs settled on either side of his hips, the oversized t-shirt riding up slightly as you faced him. His hands rested lightly on your waist at first, thumbs brushing slow, soothing circles over the fabric and the warm skin beneath.

His voice dropped softer now, all teasing gone, replaced by something deeper and more serious. The tiredness in his eyes had softened into something vulnerable.

“Say it,” he murmured, gaze locked on yours.

You blinked, heart fluttering at the sudden shift in tone.

Your hands rested on his shoulders for balance as you tilted your head slightly. “Say what?”

Taehyung’s thumb traced a slow path along your waist, slipping just under the hem of his oversized t-shirt to caress bare skin. His touch was warm, almost reverent. “That you’re not sleeping anywhere else without me again.”

It wasn’t control in his voice.

It was fear... quiet, raw fear of another night like this one.

He had missed you so much, and in that moment you realized how deeply the hours apart had affected him too. Your annoyance melted away completely. Your tone softened immediately, voice turning into a tender whisper as you looked into his warm, tired eyes.

“I won’t,” you breathed, the words slipping out like a promise. “I won’t sleep anywhere else without you, Tae. Never again.”

He exhaled slowly, a long, relieved breath as if he had been holding it in since the moment the argument ended. The tension in his shoulders eased visibly.

Then he leaned forward and rested his forehead gently against yours, eyes closing for a moment as he breathed you in.

Neither of you actually said “sorry” first.

The words weren’t needed...

Instead, your fingers slowly intertwined with his, lacing together tightly on one side while your other hand rested against his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart.

Your noses brushed softly, warm breaths mingling in the small space between you.

The kisses that followed were not rushed or hungry. They were slow, comforting, like coming home after being lost.

Taehyung tilted his head just enough to capture your lips in the gentlest press, lingering there as if memorizing the feeling. You kissed him back with the same quiet tenderness, eyes fluttering shut.

He pulled back just a fraction, murmuring against your mouth between kisses, voice low and thick with emotion, “I don’t like the bed without you… It feels too cold. Too empty. I kept reaching for you and you weren’t there.”

You answered softly, your lips brushing his with every word, “I don’t like anywhere without you. The guest room felt wrong. The silence… I hated it. I kept wishing you’d come steal the blanket and mumble those silly things in my ear like you always do.”

Taehyung smiled then, finally... a small, genuine smile that reached his eyes and made the corners crinkle in that beautiful way you loved.

He squeezed your intertwined fingers gently, his free hand sliding up your back under the t-shirt to hold you closer.

“Oh God, sweetheart… we’re both idiots, aren’t we?” he whispered, pressing another slow kiss to your lips, then to the corner of your mouth, then along your jaw.

“Fighting over nothing and then suffering in separate rooms like this. I replayed everything I said a hundred times. I didn’t mean any of it. Not one word.”

You let out a soft, breathy laugh against his lips, your nose brushing his again as you leaned in for another unhurried kiss.

“I know. I didn’t mean it either. I was just hurt and stubborn… but I missed you so much it hurt more than the argument. Your arm around me, your face in my neck... I need all of it.”

He hummed in agreement, the sound vibrating warmly between you as he kissed you once more, deeper this time but still slow and full of comfort. “Then stay right here. Always. In this bed, in my lap, in my arms. Promise me again.”

“I promise,” you whispered, your fingers tightening in his.

Taehyung’s forehead rested against yours again for a moment, his smile lingering as he murmured, “Good. Because I don’t think I can sleep without hearing your breathing next to me. Or feeling your legs tangled with mine. Or stealing that stupid blanket just so you’ll complain and cuddle closer.”

You giggled softly, the sound light and healing in the quiet room, and pressed a kiss to the tip of his nose. “Then stop being stubborn next time and just come get me sooner before your space rule come between us. I was lying there whispering into the pillow like a lovesick fool.”

He chuckled lowly, the vibration traveling through his chest into yours. “Deal. But only if you stop pretending you’re fine without me. I saw that little smile when I kissed your waist earlier. You liked being carried back.”

“Maybe a little,” you admitted with a shy smile, your lips finding his again in another warm, lingering kiss. “But mostly I just like being here. With you.”

The two of you stayed like that for long moments... foreheads touching, fingers intertwined, exchanging slow, comforting kisses and quiet words that slowly stitched the night back together.

No grand apologies yet, just the simple truth of missing each other and the quiet joy of being back where you both belonged.

The soft kisses slowly turned heavier, breaths mingling hotter between you. Taehyung’s hand at your waist began its deliberate descent, sliding lower with agonizing slowness, fingertips brushing the curve of your hip as if testing how much you could take.

At the same time, he gently but firmly gathered both of your wrists in one large hand and guided them behind your back, holding them there securely.

Not trapping you painfully, just anchoring you close, keeping you exactly where he wanted you.

“Stay still like this for me, baby,” he murmured, voice dropping into that deep, velvet tone that always made your stomach flip. “Let your husband play with what’s his.”

His free hand slipped under the oversized t-shirt from behind, fingers tracing the edge of your panties before sliding between your butt cheeks.

He pressed the thin fabric firmly against your clothed pussy and began slow, teasing strokes, rubbing up and down, circling your clit through the material with maddening patience.

You gasped softly, hips twitching in his lap.

Taehyung smirked against your neck. “Already squirming? I’ve barely touched you. Look at that… your panties are getting wet so fast. Did you miss me that badly, jagiya?”

“Taehyung…” you breathed, trying to sound annoyed but failing as another slow rub made your thighs clench.

He chuckled lowly, the sound rich and teasing. “What? Can’t even talk properly already? Poor baby. All that big talk about sleeping alone, and now you’re soaking through your panties because I’m holding your hands behind your back. So cute.”

His fingers continued their relentless teasing, pressing the damp fabric between your folds, rubbing slow circles over your swollen clit, then sliding back to tease your entrance.

He could clearly feel the wet spot growing under his touch, and it only made him more playful. “Feel that? You’re dripping, sweetheart. Making such a mess on my fingers through these tiny panties.”

You whimpered, trying to move your hips for more friction, but with your hands locked behind your back you could only grind helplessly.

Taehyung clicked his tongue in mock disapproval. “So desperate already. Look at you trying to ride my hand like a needy wife. You want it so bad, don’t you? But you’re not getting these panties off yet. I want to feel you ruin them first.”

He shifted his thigh higher between your legs, pressing the firm muscle right against your core. “Go on then. Ride my thigh like a good girl. Show me how much you missed your husband’s touch. And don’t you dare stop until I say so.”

With your hands still held firmly behind your back, you had no choice but to roll your hips, grinding down desperately against his thick thigh while his fingers kept rubbing your clothed pussy in firm, teasing strokes.

“That’s it… fuck, you look so pretty like this,” he groaned, voice husky with arousal.

“Straddling me in nothing but my t-shirt, hands behind your back, humping my thigh because you’re too turned on to think straight. Bet you were so lonely in that cold guest bed, weren’t you? No one to play with this pretty pussy.”

“Taehyung—ah—please…” you moaned, cheeks burning as the wet spot on your panties grew even more obvious.

“Please what?” he teased, leaning in to bite gently at your earlobe. “Please stop teasing? Or please make you come in your panties like the desperate wife you are? Say it. Tell me how wet your husband is making you.”

“You’re so mean…” you gasped, still rocking desperately against his thigh, the friction combined with his rubbing fingers pushing you higher.

He laughed softly, dark and amused.

“Mean? Baby, I’m being nice. I could edge you all night after that little fight. But I want to feel you soak these panties first. Come on, grind harder. Let me feel how soaked you’re getting for me.”

His fingers pressed more firmly now, rubbing fast little circles directly over your clit through the drenched fabric while you rode his thigh with increasing desperation.

After several long, torturous minutes, Taehyung finally tugged the oversized t-shirt up and off your body in one swift motion, leaving you completely bare except for your soaked black panties.

Cool air kissed your skin, nipples tightening instantly under his heated gaze.

Without wasting a second, he leaned forward and attached his mouth to your collarbone, sucking hard enough to leave a mark. “So fucking beautiful,” he growled against your skin. “All mine. Look at these pretty tits… been waiting to taste them all night.”

His lips trailed lower, capturing one nipple in his mouth. He sucked greedily, tongue flicking and swirling while his fingers never stopped rubbing your clothed pussy, faster now, more insistent.

You cried out softly, back arching as pleasure spiked.

“That’s my girl,” he murmured around your nipple, switching to the other one and sucking even harder.

“Moan louder for me, baby. Let me hear how much you love when I play with you like this. Your panties are completely ruined, baby. Soaked all the way through because your husband wouldn’t let you sleep alone.”

His fingers rubbed relentlessly, focusing on your swollen clit while he continued sucking and licking your nipples, alternating between them with wet, obscene sounds.

“You’re close, aren’t you?” he taunted, voice thick.

“I can feel you throbbing against my fingers. Go on then. Come for me right inside these pretty little panties. Soak them completely. Show me how badly you needed this after our stupid fight.”

The intense combination of his dirty words, his mouth on your breasts, and the relentless rubbing finally pushed you over the edge.

Your body tensed hard in his lap, a broken moan tearing from your throat as you came intensely inside your panties.

Waves of pleasure crashed through you while Taehyung kept rubbing you through it, drawing out every shudder and whimper until you were trembling and gasping against him, completely spent.

Only then did he finally release your hands from behind your back, wrapping both arms around your waist and pulling you flush against his chest. He pressed a surprisingly soft kiss to your temple, though his voice still carried that teasing edge.

“Good girl… coming so nicely for me in your panties like that,” he whispered, lips brushing your ear. “But we’re nowhere near done tonight, jagiya. Not even close.”

The aftershocks of your first orgasm were still rippling through your body. His arms immediately wrapped around you, pulling you flush against his chest in a warm, protective embrace while he kissed your temple with surprising gentleness.

You were still straddling his lap, breathing hard, cheeks flushed, and completely bare except for your soaked black panties.

That was when you felt it... the unmistakable hardness of his cock pressing up against you through the thin fabric of his grey sweatpants. He was rock hard, throbbing beneath you, and the realization sent a fresh wave of heat pooling between your legs.

Your hands, now free, didn’t waste any time.

With slightly shaky fingers, you tugged at the waistband of his sweatpants, pulling them down just enough to free his length. His cock sprang out, heavy and hot, resting against your inner thigh.

You didn’t bother trying to get completely naked... neither did he.

The urgency was too sweet, too needy.

Taehyung let out a low, amused chuckle as he watched you, his hands settling on your hips.

“Look at you,” he teased, voice deep and husky, eyes dark with desire. “So eager now. Just came in your panties like a good girl and you’re already trying to pull my cock out. Missed me that much, baby?”

You bit your lip, smiling shyly even as your fingers wrapped around his thick length, giving him a slow stroke. “Shut up… You’re the one who’s been hard this entire time while teasing me. It’s only fair.”

He groaned softly at your touch, hips twitching up into your hand. “Fair? Baby, I’ve been hard since the moment I threw you over my shoulder. Carrying my pretty wife half-naked like that… how was I supposed to stay soft?”

You didn’t answer with words.

Instead, you shifted higher on his lap, reached down with one hand, and pushed the crotch of your soaked panties to the side. The cool air hit your wet, sensitive folds for only a second before you lined him up and slowly sank down onto his cock.

A shared moan filled the room as you took him in inch by inch your walls stretching around his thickness.

He was so hard, so warm, filling you perfectly.

You didn’t stop until you were fully seated in his lap, your ass resting against his thighs, his entire length buried deep inside you.

“Fuck… still so tight,” Taehyung breathed out, his hands gripping your hips tighter. “You’re dripping all over me already. That little orgasm in your panties wasn’t enough, huh?”

You let out a soft whimper, forehead falling against his as you adjusted to the fullness. “It wasn’t… I need you. All of you.”

He smiled against your lips, that playful glint returning to his eyes even as his voice turned teasing. “Then ride me, baby. Show your husband how much you missed him. Use me.”

You started moving — slow at first, rolling your hips in deep, languid circles. The wet sounds of your soaked pussy sliding up and down his cock filled the quiet bedroom.

Taehyung’s hands stayed on your waist, guiding you but letting you set the pace.

“That’s it… just like that,” he murmured, lips brushing your ear. “Look at you riding me with your panties still on. So desperate you couldn’t even take them off properly. My needy little wife.”

You moaned louder, picking up the pace, bouncing on his lap with more urgency. Every time you sank down, his cock hit that perfect spot inside you, making your toes curl.

“Taehyung… ah— you feel so good,” you gasped, hands clutching his shoulders for balance. “So deep like this…”

He chuckled breathlessly, one hand sliding up to cup your breast, thumb flicking over your nipple. “Yeah? You like feeling every inch of me while you’re still wearing those cute soaked panties? So filthy… but so fucking hot.”

You rode him harder, the wet slap of skin meeting skin growing louder. Your second orgasm was already building fast... the earlier teasing, the way he had made you come in your panties, and now the full feeling of him inside you pushing you right to the edge.

“I’m— I’m close again,” you whimpered, burying your face in his neck.

Taehyung groaned, his grip on your hips tightening as he started thrusting up to meet your movements. “Already? Come on then. Come on my cock. Let me feel you squeeze me.”

His words sent you over.

Your second orgasm crashed through you harder than the first, your walls pulsing and fluttering around his thick length as you cried out his name.

Your body trembled in his lap, thighs shaking as you kept riding him through the high, soaking his cock and the base of his sweatpants even more.

Taehyung kissed your neck, murmuring praises between soft bites. “Good girl… that’s my girl. Coming so pretty for me. But you’re not done yet, are you?”

You were still panting, still clenching around him, when he gave you that wicked little smile.

“Not even close,” you whispered, voice hoarse but determined.

You started moving again... slower this time, but deeper, grinding down on him with every roll of your hips.

Taehyung’s head fell back slightly, a low moan escaping him. “Fuck, baby… keep going. Ride me until you come a third time. I want to feel you fall apart again while I’m buried inside you.”

You leaned forward, pressing your forehead to his as you rode him with renewed need, the playful teasing mixing with raw desire.

“Only if you keep talking like that,” you breathed against his lips, a teasing smile of your own forming. “Tell me how much you missed this tight pussy while we were fighting.”

He laughed softly, the sound turning into a groan as you clenched around him deliberately. “I missed it so fucking much. Missed my wife. Missed hearing you moan my name. Missed feeling you soak my cock just like this…”

The conversation continued... breathless, teasing, full of love and lust as you rode him steadily toward your third orgasm, the night stretching warmly around the two of you, every fight long forgotten in the heat of being together again.

You were riding Taehyung with desperate, rolling movements, your soaked panties still pushed to the side, his thick cock buried to the hilt inside you with every downward slide.

Your hands gripped his shoulders tightly, nails digging into his skin as pleasure coiled tighter and tighter.

Taehyung’s breathing had turned ragged, his fingers digging into your hips with bruising force. His dark eyes were locked on your face, watching every flutter of your lashes and every parted moan that left your lips.

“Fuck, baby… you’re squeezing me so tight,” he groaned, voice strained with restraint. “I can feel you getting close again. That greedy little pussy is fluttering around me like it doesn’t want to let go.”

You whimpered, grinding down harder, the wet sounds echoing obscenely in the quiet room. “Taehyung… I’m so close. Don’t stop... please—”

He suddenly sat up straighter, one arm wrapping securely around your waist. In one smooth, powerful motion, he flipped you onto your back without ever pulling out.

You gasped as your back hit the soft mattress, his body immediately covering yours, his cock still buried deep inside you, pulsing hotly against your walls.

“Can't wait any longer,” he murmured hotly against your neck, pressing a quick, open-mouthed kiss there. “Need to fuck you properly now.”

Your legs instinctively tried to wrap around him, but he had other plans. He grabbed both of your thighs and pushed them up, hooking them over his broad shoulders.

The new angle made him sink even deeper, the head of his cock pressing right against that sensitive spot inside you with every shallow thrust.

It was impossible to take your panties off without pulling out, so Taehyung didn’t even try. Instead, with a low, teasing growl, he hooked two fingers into the delicate, already ruined fabric at your hip and tore it apart in one sharp tug.

The sound of ripping lace filled the room.

You let out a surprised moan, eyes widening. “Taehyung! You just— you ripped them!”

He grinned down at you, that playful, cocky smirk you both loved and hated, as he tossed the ruined scrap of fabric aside.

“They were in the way. And they were already ruined anyway… soaked because of me.”

He gave a slow, deep thrust, making you cry out. “Besides, you won’t be needing panties for the rest of the night, jagiya.”

With your legs now properly on his shoulders, he had all the room he needed. Taehyung pulled back almost completely, only the tip of his cock still inside you, before slamming back in hard.

The new position allowed him to fuck you with deep, powerful strokes... fast and relentless.

“God, look at you,” he teased breathlessly, eyes raking over your body as he pounded into you. “Legs up on my shoulders, taking every inch like such a good wife. You feel even tighter like this. So wet… so fucking perfect.”

You could barely form words, moans spilling freely from your lips with every hard thrust. The angle was devastating, he was hitting so deep, the pleasure bordering on overwhelming.

“Taehyung— ah! Too deep… it feels... oh my god—”

“Not too deep,” he corrected with a husky laugh, leaning down to bite gently at your collarbone while still thrusting hard. “Just right. You can take it. You always take me so well, baby. My pretty girl who pretends to be mad and then rides me like she’s starving.”

Your third orgasm was rushing toward you fast now, the coil in your stomach tightening unbearably.

You could feel Taehyung getting closer too... his thrusts growing sloppier, his breathing harsher, the veins in his neck standing out as he fought to hold back.

“I’m— I’m gonna come again,” you gasped, hands reaching up to clutch at his arms. “Taehyung, please... come with me. I want to feel you...”

He groaned loudly, forehead dropping to rest against yours as he fucked you harder, the bed creaking beneath you.

“Yeah? You want me to fill you up while you come on my cock? While your legs are shaking on my shoulders?”

“Yes... yes, please,” you begged, voice breaking on a moan as the pressure became too much. “I’m so close… come inside me, Taehyung. Please—”

His pace turned punishing, hips snapping against yours with wet, filthy sounds. “Fuck, I’m right there too. Come for me, jagiya. Let me feel you milk my cock. Come together with your husband like the good girl you are.”

The words pushed you over the edge.

Your third orgasm hit you like a wave, crashing through your body with blinding intensity. Your walls clenched hard around him, pulsing rhythmically as you cried out his name, back arching off the bed, legs trembling violently on his shoulders.

Taehyung followed right behind you, burying himself as deep as possible with one final, powerful thrust.

A deep, guttural groan tore from his throat as he came hard, spilling inside you in hot, thick pulses. His hips stuttered, pressing tightly against you as he filled you up, the warmth of his release mixing with your own wetness.

Both of you shook through the intense shared climax, foreheads pressed together, breaths mingling in heavy pants.

Taehyung’s arms trembled slightly as he held himself up, careful not to crush you even while buried deep inside.

After long moments, he slowly lowered your legs from his shoulders, letting them fall gently to the sides as he stayed nestled inside you. He pressed soft, lazy kisses along your jaw and neck, his voice now softer, laced with affection and lingering playfulness.

“See? No more sleeping in the guest room,” he murmured, nipping at your earlobe. “This is where you belong... under me, full of me, coming apart for me. Got it, wife?”

You could only manage a breathless, sated laugh, your fingers threading through his messy hair. “Got it… you possessive idiot.”

He smiled against your skin, giving one last lazy thrust before settling his weight more comfortably over you. “Your possessive idiot. And you love it.”

The two of you stayed locked together like that, hearts still racing, bodies slick with sweat, the fight from earlier completely erased in the afterglow of intense, loving sex.

Taehyung stayed buried inside you for a few more moments, savoring the closeness. After a while, he gently pulled out with a quiet groan, his cock still semi-hard and glistening with your combined releases.

Without a word, he reached over to the bedside table and grabbed a few tissues from the box. With tender care, he first cleaned himself quickly, then turned his full attention to you.

“Stay still for me, jagiya,” he whispered softly.

He gently wiped between your legs, cleaning the mess of your combined orgasms from your thighs and folds with slow, careful strokes. His touch was gentle and loving, almost reverent, as he made sure you were comfortable.

When he was done, he tossed the tissues aside and finally rolled onto his back. Immediately, he pulled you against him, guiding your body so you were curled comfortably into his chest.

His arm wrapped tightly around your waist, fingers splayed possessively over your bare skin as if he refused to risk losing you to the guest room or anywhere else for even a second tonight.

Your leg draped over his thigh, your cheek resting right over his steady heartbeat. The room was quiet now, filled only with the sound of your slowing breaths and the faint rustle of sheets.

Half-asleep already, his voice came out in a low, mumbled murmur against the top of your head. “Guest room is banned… forever.”

You let out a quiet, tired laugh, the sound soft and affectionate as you nuzzled closer into his warm chest.

Your fingers traced lazy patterns over his skin.

“Bossy,” you whispered, smiling against him.

Taehyung hummed in agreement, pressing a sleepy, lingering kiss to your hair. His lips stayed there for a moment, breathing you in.

“Only about you,” he replied, voice thick with exhaustion and love. “Only bossy when it comes to keeping my wife right where she belongs… in this bed, in my arms.”

You smiled wider, eyes fluttering shut as contentment washed over you. “You’re impossible, Kim Taehyung. One minute you’re tearing my panties and the next you’re all soft and cuddly.”

He chuckled lowly, the vibration rumbling through his chest beneath your ear. His arm tightened just a fraction around your waist, pulling you even closer.

“Can’t help it. Fighting with you sucks. Sleeping without you sucks more. So no more running off, okay? Even if I’m being an idiot… just stay and yell at me in our bed next time.”

You tilted your head up slightly, pressing a gentle kiss to his jaw. “Deal.”

“Promise,” he murmured sleepily, his fingers drawing slow circles on your lower back. “Next time maybe I'll throw you over my shoulder in the middle of the argument.”

You giggled softly, the sound light and full of warmth. “You’d enjoy that too much.”

“Guilty,” he admitted with a drowsy smile you could feel against your hair. “But only because I love you. So much. Even when we fight… especially after we make up like this.”

Your heart melted at his words.

You snuggled deeper into his embrace, letting his warmth surround you completely.

“I love you too,” you whispered. “More than anything.”

Taehyung let out a contented sigh, his hold on you never loosening. “That’s my girl. Now sleep, jagiya. I’ve got you. And I’m not letting go until morning… maybe not even then.”

You smiled one last time, eyes growing heavy as his steady heartbeat lulled you. “Goodnight, my bossy husband.”

“Night, my everything,” he mumbled back, already drifting off with you safe and warm in his arms.

And that was how the argument ended... not with anyone winning, not with grand apologies, but with the simple, beautiful choice of choosing each other again, wrapped up together in the quiet afterglow of love.

The press conference room buzzed like a hive of desperate bees, camera flashes popping like paparazzi popcorn, journalists practically vibrating in their chairs.

Kim Taehyung sat at the center of it all like a bored Greek god, sculpted to perfection in a black velvet suit that probably cost more than someone’s entire K-drama budget.

He looked dangerously relaxed—ankle crossed over knee, cheek resting on his knuckles, the picture of married-and-unbothered royalty.

He didn’t just sit in his chair — no, he lounged.

His lips curled into that trademark smirk, the one that made fans swoon and his wife roll her eyes.

The air was thick with nervous anticipation, the scent of coffee, cologne, and chaos mingling together like a weirdly specific perfume.

Then it came.

A young reporter—bless her soul—stood up, clutching her notepad like it might save her from the heat of that stage.

“Taehyung-ssi,” she began, clearly trembling under his gaze, “your drama Eternal Flame is releasing the same week as your wife’s Whispers of Dawn. Was this a coordinated move between you two? Or is there a little friendly competition at home?”

The crowd collectively leaned in, jaws parted like they were waiting for a confession of murder.

Taehyung blinked. Then blinked again.

He tilted his head so slowly it was borderline offensive.

Ran a hand through his hair like he was being paid for it, his silver rings winking under the lights.

“Is it?” he said at last, voice low and velvety, the tone of a man who genuinely didn’t give a damn.

“I don’t even remember when hers is releasing.”

He shrugged lazy, and deliberate, a jab at the media’s obsession with pitting you against each other.

The room cracked into laughter—but deep down, Taehyung could feel the panic brewing in the editorials already being typed with sweaty fingers.

They were gonna spin this harder than a K-pop idol on a variety show wheel.

And sure enough, by sunrise the next morning, chaos reigned:

“TAEHYUNG IGNORES WIFE’S CAREER?!” “KIM TAEHYUNG TOO BUSY TO CARE ABOUT HIS MARRIAGE?” “LOOK AT HIS EYES—HE DIDN’T EVEN FLINCH. TRUE DETACHMENT.”

Twitter was ablaze. TikTok fan edits had already slapped melancholic piano over black-and-white clips of the interview.

“He didn’t even say her name!” one post sobbed. “They’re strangers now. I knew it.”

Next day. Your turn.

The set of Whispers of Dawn's press conference was dreamy, romantic, like someone had whispered “femininity” into a scented candle and exploded it all over the room.

Soft lighting. Warm tones.

You sat like the goddess, dressed in cream silk with your hair cascading like a shampoo commercial. You had seen the headlines. You had read the X threads. You had rolled your eyes into another dimension and back.

The interviewer, seasoned in nonsense, leaned forward with the hungry smile of a woman who’d been waiting all day for this exact soundbite.

“So, Y/N-ssi, Taehyung’s drama is airing the same day as yours,” she said sweetly, too sweetly.

“What if his gets better ratings? Any bets going on at home?”

You smiled.

Slowly. Dangerously. Like a woman about to say something that could end a war or start one.

You picked up your delicate porcelain teacup with all the grace of a chaebol daughter-in-law in a weekend drama.

You let the silence stretch a beat too long, then lifted the cup to your lips.

“We don’t discuss work at home,” you said, voice like silk over steel. “Our home is for us. Not... ratings.”

The way you sipped that tea? Illegal.

Wedding ring glittering like a subtle middle finger to the headlines.

The interviewer blinked. Disappointed. She wanted scandal. What she got was serenity with a blade edge.

But oh—the internet didn’t rest.

“Y/N SHADES TAEHYUNG?” “TROUBLE IN PARADISE... AFTER 7 YEARS?” “NOT EVEN A SINGLE MENTION OF HIS DRAMA? SHE’S OVER IT.”

One edit even added subtitles to your sip:

“I’m tired of carrying this marriage.”

You sent it to Taehyung. He sent back five crying emojis and a selfie of him shirtless in your bed holding your dog.

The next few days were a whirlwind of chaos.

The internet became a battlefield, of conspiracy theories and fan wars, with hashtags and Twitter threads stretching longer than Taehyung’s legs in tailored pants.

News outlets scrambled for clickbait, while bored teenagers in dark rooms crafted melodramatic edits like their lives depended on it.

And at the center of the chaos: you two, blissfully married and deeply unbothered.

A clip from Taehyung’s new drama, Eternal Flame, spreaded across the timeline like a scandalous grenade.

In it, his character grabbed his co-star, Park Ji-yeon, and shoved her against a wall before crashing his lips to hers in a kiss so heated it fogged up screens nationwide.

The moment was hot.

Too hot — and the internet treated it like a war crime.

The scene was looped, slowed, zoomed.

His hands on her waist. Her fingers tangled in his collar.

The groan. The way his jaw flexed.

One edit had black-and-white filters and melodramatic piano instrumental in the background. Another simply captioned:

“Is this acting... Sir? Did you forget you are married?”

Fans dissected every second like forensic experts.

“Look at the way his thumb moved. That’s not scripted energy.”“He kissed her like he forgot his wife existed.”“Someone check on Y/N.”

Then came, your drama, Whispers of Dawn.

It had its own viral moment.

A beautifully shot scene beneath a cherry blossom tree, where your character confessed her love to Lee Min-ho’s character with tears streaming down your cheeks.

He reached out, gently wiping a tear from your face, and whispered, “I never stopped loving you.”

The camera lingered on your face as your lip trembled, eyes shining. Then he leaned to peck your lips softly.

It was raw. Intimate. And suddenly, everyone was convinced you were glowing.

“She glows differently around him.” “That smile wasn’t acting. That was ‘I finally found someone who listens’ energy.” “Taehyung who?”

Within hours, fan cams were comparing your eye contact with Min-ho vs. Taehyung. Some fans started speculating that you and Taehyung hadn’t been seen holding hands in public for months.

Old interview clips resurfaced, cherry-picked to fuel the narrative.

A moment from three years ago where Taehyung dodged a question about your favorite movie, chuckling and saying, “I don’t know, she changes her mind a lot.”

A clip of you laughing off a question about Taehyung’s cooking skills: “Let’s just say I handle the kitchen.” Harmless at the time, but now? Treasure for making up the breakup theories.

But the true masterpiece?

A 15-tweet thread by a user named @taehyung4everwithme titled: “Evidence That Their Marriage is a PR Stunt and They Sleep in Separate Beds.”

Complete with bullet points. And Pictures.

Meanwhile, in your apartment?

Taehyung was barefoot in pajama pants, scrolling through his phone while laying on the floor of living room dramatically like a rejected second lead in a melodrama.

Your dog, Muffin, was asleep in the laundry basket. You were standing in the kitchen eating mango, watching him with amused disinterest.

The truth was, everything was perfectly normal.

The scenes were scripted, the emotions rehearsed, and the chemistry? Pure acting. All part of your job.

But according to the media? They twisted it so dramatically, it was as if acting itself had become a crime for the two of you.

“Glowing differently around Min-ho?” he said, waving his phone in the air like a sulking baby who didn't get his favorite candy.

“Do they even know the kind of afterglow I leave you in? You shine like a jellyfish just after one round with me.”

You popped a mango cube into your mouth. “Maybe Min-ho’s skincare is working better than yours. ”

“Also... That kiss scene looked so hot... in 4K.”

Taehyung gasped. Dramatically.

He clutched his chest like you’d stabbed him with a fork you were eating mango cubes.

“This is betrayal,” he declared. “I am being defamed in my own home.”

You didn’t bother responding. You just sauntered over, pressed a kiss to his forehead, and whispered, “Then go redeem yourself in the bedroom, method actor.”

Later that night, after an aggressive make out on-the-kitchen-counter, the two of you lay tangled in sheets, skin sticky with love and sweat.

You were both scrolling through hate comments together, rating them like a game show.

“This one says I haven’t kissed you this passionately in years,” Taehyung read aloud, mocking the tweet with a dramatic reading voice.

“Should I livestream our next kitchen performance just to shut them up?”

You snorted. “Only if you edit it in 4K like your drama fans do.”

He turned to you, hair a mess, wedding ring glinting under the dim light.

“For the record, babe... no one — and I mean no one — glows harder than you do after I’m done with you.”

You threw a pillow at Taehyung’s face and pulled him into your arms with a tired smile.

The internet could go crazy if it wanted. Let people make weird edits, let fans overthink everything, let the news keep making up stories.

Because behind the rumors, the kiss scenes, and the cherry blossoms? You were still right here, curled up in the arms of the man the world was convinced you had fallen out of love with.

You really didn’t discuss work at home.

You were too busy laughing, loving, and fighting over the last dumpling.

Your apartment was your haven. No cameras. No headlines. No rumors buzzing in your ears. Just dim lights, the soft hum of jazz in background, and the warmth of your husband’s scent on your skin.

You were curled up in bed, his oversized white shirt draping over your thighs, sleeves way too long for you but perfect. No bra. Just black lace panties underneath.

The bedroom door creaked open, and Taehyung stepped inside, his long coat dusted with the faintest hint of rain. His hair was damp, curling at the ends, and his eyes carried the weight of a long day.

But the moment they landed on you, sprawled across the bed like you owned it, they darkened with a familiar heat.

He leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, his lips curving into a lopsided grin.

“So,” he drawled, his voice low and teasing, “the world thinks I hate you. Should we stage a dramatic fight for the paparazzi?”

You snorted, tossing a pillow at him.

He caught it with ease.

“Fight? Please, Tae. I’d rather you fuck me senseless and give them something real to talk about.”

His grin turned wicked, and he tossed the pillow aside, stalking toward the bed like a predator.

“Oh, baby,” he purred, his voice dropping an octave, thick with promise. “You’re gonna regret saying that.”

“Regret?” you shot back, arching a brow as you leaned back on your elbows, letting the shirt ride up to reveal a glimpse of black lace panties. “I’m counting on you to make me scream, Tae.”

He growled, low and playful, and pounced, the mattress dipping under his weight as he crawled over you.

His hands found your hips, pinning you to the bed, and you laughed, the sound cut off by his lips crashing into yours.

The kiss was filthy, all teeth and tongue, a messy collision of want that had you gasping into his mouth. His hands slid under the shirt, fingers grazing the sensitive skin of your thighs, and you shivered, already aching for him.

“Fuck, you’re trouble.”

He muttered against your lips, his voice rough with desire.

He pulled back just enough to look at you, his eyes raking over your body like he was committing every inch to memory.

“Wearing my shirt, teasing me like this? You planned this, didn’t you?”

You smirked, running your hands up his chest, tugging at the buttons of his shirt. “Maybe I did. What are you gonna do about it, pretty boy?”

His laugh was dark, dangerous, and he leaned down, his lips brushing your ear.

“I’m gonna make you glow, baby,” he whispered, referencing your little inside joke from fan edits of your ongoing drama

“Let’s see how bright I can make you tonight.”

You laughed, swatting his chest, but the sound turned into a moan as he kissed his way down your neck, his teeth grazing your pulse point. “Big talk,” you challenged, your voice breathy. “Prove it.”

He didn’t need to be told twice.

His hands yanked the shirt over your head, tossing it across the room, leaving you bare except for the lace panties.

His eyes darkened, reverent, as he took you in.

“Fuck, you’re gorgeous,” he murmured, his fingers tracing the curve of your breast, thumb circling your nipple until it hardened under his touch.

But he didn’t stop there. His lips followed, kissing a slow, deliberate path down your body, pausing to suck gently at your collarbone, your ribs, the dip of your stomach.

He knew all your sensitive spots very well.

Even after the 7 years of marriage the spark never left.

You squirmed, impatient, but he pinned your hips to the bed, his grin wicked.

“Oh, no, you don’t get to rush this,” he teased, his voice low and filthy.

“I’m taking my time with you.”

His lips brushed lower, hovering over the lace of your panties, and you held your breath, your body trembling with anticipation. He hooked his fingers into the waistband, dragging them down your legs with agonizing slowness, his eyes never leaving yours.

“Tae!! Stop Teasing.”

You whined, your hands reaching for him, but he caught your wrists, pinning them above your head with one hand.

“Patience, baby,” he purred, his free hand sliding between your thighs, parting them gently.

“I’m gonna make you feel so good you’ll be glowing for days.”

And then his mouth was on you—finally, torturously slow—his lips ghosting over your folds, hot breath teasing your swollen clit without mercy.

You squirmed, a desperate little whimper slipping out as you tried to tilt your hips up to meet him, but his strong hands pinned you down, spreading your thighs wider with a growl.

“So needy already?” he taunted, his voice muffled against your skin. “I haven’t even started yet.”

You gasped, your fingers fisting the sheets, every nerve ending on fire as he dragged his tongue up your slit in one agonizingly slow stroke, only to pull back just before reaching your clit.

“Tae,” you whined, the sound high and breathless, your hips bucking shamelessly. “Please...Stop teasing me.”

He chuckled darkly. “Oh, sweetheart, I live to tease.”

And then he dove in—his tongue flicking your clit in quick, maddening bursts, alternating between light, fluttery licks and deeper, languid strokes that had your toes curling.

When he finally wrapped his lips around you, sucking with just the right amount of pressure, your moan was so damn loud.

“Fuck—please—Tae,” you gasped, writhing beneath him, desperate for more.

He slid two fingers inside you, slow and deliberate, curling them just so—hitting that spot that made your vision blur.

Your back arched off the bed, your thighs trembling as he fucked you with his fingers and licked you like a man starved, savoring every shaky moan that fell from your lips.

“Such a pretty little pussy,” he groaned against you, his voice dripping with filth.

“Tastes even better than I remembered.” Your hands flew to his hair, tugging as you fell apart, hips stuttering against his mouth, the orgasm ripping through you in waves so intense it left you gasping and boneless.

He didn’t stop—not right away. He licked you through it, coaxing more sweet sounds out of you until you whimpered, “Too much, Tae, please,” your thighs trying—and failing—to close around his head.

He finally pulled back with a sinful smirk, his lips and chin glistening, and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

“You always fall apart for me like this,” he murmured, voice low and satisfied as he pressed a kiss to your inner thigh.

“So fucking perfect.”

“Fuck, Tae, you’re too good at this,” you said breathless and shaking.

He kissed his way back up your body, his lips glistening, his grin smug. “There’s that glow,” he teased, and you laughed, weak and blissed out, pulling him down for a kiss. You could taste yourself on him, and it only made you want him more.

“My turn,” you purred against his lips, your voice syrup-slick and smug as sin.

Taehyung’s eyes darkened, watching you with open hunger as you pushed him gently onto his back.

“Oh, baby… fuck yes,” he breathed, his brows lifting as he settled against the pillows, clearly not ready for the kind of destruction you were about to deliver.

You straddled his hips, grinding down slow and just enough to make him hiss, before sliding down his body.

His belt? Gone in a flash.

Jeans and boxers shoved down just enough to free him—and god, he was already hard, thick and pulsing, desperate for attention. You wrapped your hand around him, slow strokes that made him grunt, his thighs twitching as you leaned in, lips brushing the flushed head.

He moaned—already.

“Baby, don’t—”

A sharp inhale cut him off as your tongue flicked out, teasing the sensitive underside with a featherlight swirl. You pulled back slightly, your lips just ghosting over the tip. “What’s that?” you teased, voice dripping honey and filth.

“Don’t what? You think only you can tease.”

“Don’t tease,” he groaned, breathless, head pressing back into the pillow, one hand fisting the sheets, the other tangling in your hair.

“I swear, I’m already—fuck—”

You smiled, devilish, and licked a slow, wet stripe from base to tip before finally taking him into your mouth—just the tip at first, suckling like it was candy you didn’t wanna finish too fast.

He whined, deep and wrecked, his hand twitching in your hair but still letting you set the pace. “Shit… baby… that mouth…”

You moaned around him, letting the vibrations ripple through his cock as you took more of him, slow and deliberate. Your tongue danced along his length, your lips stretching, saliva spilling as you worked him over like a meal you’d been craving for days.

“Fuck—fuck—you’re gonna kill me,” he rasped, hips jerking just a little before you pushed him down with a palm to his stomach. “Stay still, baby,” you cooed, voice wrecked and teasing.

“I’m not done with you yet.”

His ring caught the lamplight as he gripped the sheets tighter, trying not to lose it.

“You want me to come already?” he panted. “Is that what you want, huh? That pretty little mouth full of me?”

You hummed again, then swallowed him deeper, taking him so far your eyes watered—and god, the way he cried out, head thrown back, his voice cracking?

You nearly came right then and there.

Your hands gripped his hips to hold him down while you sucked and licked and hollowed your cheeks, worshipping him like a god on his altar.

He was panting now, wrecked and sweaty, moaning your name like a prayer. “I’m—fuck, I’m not gonna last, babe,” he warned, voice high and shaky. “You’re gonna make me—oh fuck—”

And you pulled back just enough to lick the tip, lazy and smug, eyes locking with his as you whispered, “Then give it to me, Tae. Make a mess in my mouth.”

The sound he made when he finally came? Filthy. His hips jerked despite himself, hot spurts of cum spilling onto your tongue as he cried out your name like a broken man, his wedding ring still clutched in the sheets.

“Enough,” he growled, pulling you into a kiss, his lips desparate and hungry.

“I need to be inside you. Now.”

He reached into the bedside drawer, pulling out a condom and tearing it open with his teeth with so much ease. You watched, your mouth dry, as he rolled it on, his movements quick but deliberate, his eyes locked on yours.

“Classy!!” you teased, but your voice was shaky, your body aching for him. He grinned, pulling you onto his lap, your knees straddling his hips.

“You love it,” he whispered, and then he was kissing you again, deep and dirty, as he guided himself to your entrance and thrust up into you in one smooth motion.

You gasped, your nails digging into his shoulders, the stretch intense and perfect. He stilled for a moment, letting you adjust, his breath hot and ragged against your neck.

“God, you’re so fucking tight,” he groaned, his hands gripping your hips as he started to move, slow at first, each thrust deep and deliberate.

You rolled your hips against him, finding a rhythm, your hands clutching his face, his neck, anything to anchor yourself.

His wedding ring pressed against your skin as he gripped your thigh, a constant reminder of the vows you’d made, the love that burned brighter than any headline.

“Harder,” you demanded, your voice breathy, and he laughed, low and teasing.

“Too needy tonight, huh?” he said, but he gave you what you wanted, his thrusts becoming rougher, more desperate, hitting that spot inside you that made your vision blur.

His hand slid between your bodies, his fingers finding your clit again, circling it with just the right pressure to make you cry out.

“Fuck, Tae, right there,” you gasped, your nails clawing at his back, leaving marks you knew he’d wear proudly tomorrow. He groaned, his lips crashing into yours, swallowing your moans as you both moved together, a perfect, frantic rhythm.

“You’re mine,” he growled against your mouth, his thrusts becoming erratic as he neared his release. “No matter what those fucking headlines say.”

You came first, the pleasure hitting you perfectly, your body shaking as you clenched around him, your moans loud and unapologetic.

He followed moments later, a low, guttural sound escaping his throat as he spilled into the condom, his hands holding you close, like he was anchoring himself to you.

You stayed like that for a moment, panting, tangled together, the world outside a distant memory. He pulled out carefully, disposing of the condom before collapsing beside you, pulling you into his arms.

His lips brushed your forehead, soft and reverent now, a stark contrast to the filthy things he’d whispered minutes ago.

“Still glowing like a jellyfish,” he murmured, his voice soft, and you laughed, nuzzling into his chest.

Later, in the shower, the steam wrapped around you like a warm embrace, the water cascading over your bodies. Taehyung brushed your wet hair back, his touch gentle, almost worshipful.

You lathered shampoo into his hair, your fingers massaging his scalp, and he closed his eyes, humming softly, a contented smile on his lips. He returned the favor, his hands careful as he washed your hair, his lips brushing your cheeks, your temples, in sleepy, tender kisses.

Wrapped in towels, you curled up on the couch, his arms around you, your head tucked under his chin. The jazz had shifted to something slower, more intimate, and you felt the weight of the day melt away.

“Jin Hyung offered you a drama,” Taehyung said suddenly, his voice soft. “I heard you declined it.”

You nodded, tracing lazy circles on his chest. “Mhmm. I need a break. And… I want to focus on us now.”

He pulled back slightly, his brows furrowing. “Us?”

You smiled, a little shy, your heart racing. “Tae, should we think about a baby? I mean, only if you’re ready too.”

His eyes widened, and then he laughed, a bright, boyish sound that made your heart soar.

“Woah! Then why didn’t you stop me earlier when I wasted a condom?” He leaned closer, his voice dropping to a teasing whisper. “Well, we can do round two without it.”

You laughed, swatting his chest. “Nooo, I’m tired now.”

“Just one more round, babe,” he pleaded, his lips brushing yours, his hands already wandering. You giggled, melting into his kiss, the world fading away again.

Few weeks later, it was a lazy Sunday, the kind that felt like velvet against your soul. Phones off. Curtains drawn. No schedules. Just the two of you, the scent of soil and syrup in the air.

You’d started in the garden—barefoot, thighs bare under one of Taehyung’s oversized shirts, as you watered the flower pots. The morning sun warmed your skin, golden and slow.

Muffin, your furball, ran in chaotic circles chasing a butterfly, tail swiping over a flower pot with a crash.

“Muffin!” you scolded through a laugh, shaking your head.

Inside, Taehyung was “cooking” pancakes, which really meant shirtless chaos. The kitchen smelled of burnt batter and sugar.

You stepped in, wiping dirt on your thighs, only to find him at the stove—brow furrowed, tongue poking out, apron slung low on his hips, chest dusted in flour like powdered sin.

You leaned against the counter, arms crossed, smirking. “Mr. Handsome can’t even flip a pancake?”

He turned to you, flour smudged across his nose and cheekbone like war paint. “I can flip you just fine,” he growled, a feral grin breaking out as he strode toward you.

You barely had time to breathe before he caged you against the fridge—one arm slamming beside your head, the other gripping your thigh. His lips hovered over yours, eyes dark.

“Wanna test that theory?”

You licked your bottom lip slowly, the air between you thick. “Maybe I should punish you for ruining breakfast,” you whispered.

“Oh, baby,” he chuckled, tilting your chin up with two fingers, “why don’t you try?”

Then his mouth was on you—hot, filthy, demanding. Tongue sweeping into your mouth like he owned it. He tasted like burnt sugar and black coffee, sinful and sharp.

You gasped, grabbing his shoulders, nails raking down his back. He groaned, deep in his chest, biting your lower lip until you whimpered.

You didn’t stand a chance.

His hands were under your shirt, roaming your bare thighs, gripping tight as he hoisted you onto the counter in one smooth lift. “No panties?” he growled, fingers slipping up between your legs, dragging through your slick folds. “You came in here like this?”

You grinned breathlessly. “Didn't wear any after last night.”

“Greedy, Mrs. Kim,” he rasped, mouth on your neck now, kissing, sucking, tongue flicking just below your ear until you moaned. “What should I feed you first?”

You tugged his apron strings loose, pulling him in, legs wrapped around his hips. “You.”

He kissed you like he was starving—licks, bites, messy sounds filling the air. Your shirt rode up with every grind of his hips, his cock hard against your core, only fabric separating skin from sin. He slid two fingers into you, groaning at the way your walls fluttered. “Fuck, you’re dripping.”

“Tae—”

“Say it,” he whispered, forehead against yours, breath heavy. “Say what you want.”

“You. Inside. Now.”

He didn’t wait. Just shoved his pants down enough to free himself and slid home in one deep, slow thrust.

You gasped, nails digging into his back as he filled you, the stretch perfect. His groan was low, guttural, forehead pressed to yours. “You feel like fucking heaven.”

“Apparantly, the internet doesn't think like this.” You teased.

The kitchen echoed with filthy sounds—wet kisses, skin slapping, your soft gasps turning into moans. He moved inside you with slow, brutal precision, every roll of his hips hitting just right.

Flour dusted the counter. The pancakes burned in the background, forgotten. You didn’t care.

You were gripping the edge of the fridge for dear life, thighs trembling, head thrown back as he bit down on your collarbone and fucked you harder.

“You gonna cum for me like this?” he growled, slapping your thigh. “All messy on the kitchen counter?”

You cried out, nodding frantically. “Tae—I’m close—”

“Then cum, baby,” he whispered, thrusting deep, “cum on my cock.”

You shattered, body arching, walls clenching tight around him. He followed with a groan, hips jerking, spilling into you with a kiss so deep it made your toes curl.

Moments later, you were both collapsed on the kitchen floor—sweaty, breathless, tangled in each other’s limbs, flour streaking your skin. You laughed until your stomach hurt, head on his chest.

“We’re such a disaster,” you murmured.

“The hottest disaster,” he replied, stroking your hair.

You turned, eyes soft, took his hand and guided it to your stomach.

“Tae,” you whispered. “It’s happening. I tested today early morning when I woke up.”

His breath hitched. He looked at you—really looked. “Wait—are you…?”

You nodded. “Yeah. We made more than a mess today.”

He stared, hand flat against your belly, then broke into a grin so wide it hurt. “We’re having a baby?” he whispered.

You nodded again, eyes watery.

He kissed you. Hard. Soft. Everything. “We’re gonna be the horniest, happiest parents ever.”

You burst into laughter again, curling into his arms, heart full, skin sticky, soul warm.

That evening, you both posted a photo dump on Instagram.

The first was of you in matching aprons, flour on your noses, grinning like idiots.

The second was a selfie, your cheeks pressed close, making heart fingers.

The third was Taehyung kissing your stomach, his eyes soft, his smile radiant.

The caption read: “We don’t discuss work at home. Cause we’re busy making family. ❤️👶 #ComingSoon”

The internet lost its mind. Twitter crashed for an hour. The headlines flipped overnight: “Taehyung and Y/N Expecting!” and “Korea’s Power Couple Shuts Down Rumors with Baby News!”

Two months later, the award show was a dazzling dream, fans screaming your names, and cameras flashing like a symphony of tiny fireworks.

You stepped out of the black car like a goddess incarnate, draped in a flowing blush-pink gown that shimmered with each step. The empire waistline fluttered over your barely-there baby bump, glowing under the spotlight like a secret being whispered to the world.

Taehyung was glued to your side in a perfectly tailored navy velvet suit, one hand proudly creating space among crowd as you walk, the other wrapped protectively resting around your waist.

Reporters were yelling questions, but one petite journalist, voice trembling with nerves and excitement, stepped forward holding a mic that matched her trembling hands.

“So… Taehyung-ssi, Y/N-ssi…” she began, voice rising slightly, “there’s been a lot of talk lately, and fans have been wondering…” She gestured subtly toward your midsection.

“Are the rumors true?”

You opened your mouth, but before you could speak, Taehyung brought your joined hands to his lips and kissed your fingers tenderly.

His smile was soft but smug, his eyes twinkling with unspoken joy.

“Well, I remembered this release date very well.” he said smoothly, brushing a thumb over your hand.

Your cheeks flushed, eyes meeting his, laughter bubbling up your throat. “And it’s one thing we definitely do talk about at home,” you added, voice teasing but thick with emotion.

A beat of stunned silence fell over the crowd—then the photographers lost their minds. Flashbulbs popped in a frenzy, reporters shouted follow-up questions, and Twitter instantly crashed.

Taehyung turned to you like the rest of the world didn’t exist, gently tucking a curl behind your ear, brushing a kiss to your temple.

“I hope they’re ready for the cutest baby ever. No one stands a chance.”

You smiled, tears prickling but refusing to fall under that much makeup. “They’ll have your smile. I’m doomed.”

“No,” he whispered. “You’re everything. They’ll have that.”

The internet? Silenced. The headlines? Exploded:

“Kim Taehyung & Y/N Confirm Baby News With The Softest Red Carpet Moment In History”“Actor Kim Taehyung Can’t Stop Looking At His Wife Like She’s His Entire Galaxy”“Forget Awards. They Already Won Tonight.”

And somewhere backstage, Muffin barked at the TV screen, tail wagging. Even he knew—Mom and Dad were stealing the whole damn show.

RM - Masterlist

Jin - Masterlist

Suga - Masterlist

JHope - Masterlist

Jimin - Masterlist

V - Masterlist

Jungkook - Masterlist

Disclaimer: The following fics feature a consensual polyamorous relationship. If that’s not your cup of tea, feel free to skip! 💜

BTS Poly AU - Masterlist

BTS DRABBLES SUB-MASTERLIST

Crack Fics/ Other Random GIF POVs and all, etc...

(More coming soon! Check [@kittenan2, @kittenan] for updates!)

💌 WHAT TO EXPECT

BTS x Reader (smut, angst, fluff) - Mostly Oneshots/ Twoshots/ Drabbles

Poly dynamics, mafia, idol, college, kink AUs, many more

Slow burns, fast burns, & everything filthy

Reblogs from fav writers & mutuals!

Let’s stay connected: Main Tag — #kittenanwrites (I have created member wise tags too) [#kittenanwritesRM] [#kittenanwritesJin] [#kittenanwritesYoongi] [#kittenanwritesHobi] [#kittenanwritesJimin] [#kittenanwritesV] [#kittenanwritesJK] Ask box (on both accounts) — 💌 OPEN!

Disclaimer: Fic requests are welcome! 💜 Just a quick note though: I don't write member x member ships, underage, incest, non-con/dub-con, or anything outside my comfort zone. Thanks for understanding!

(Fic requests may be a bit delayed, but I promise I’ll work on them whenever I have time.)

If anybody wants to be a part of my permanent taglist, do let me know in comments. 💜

The soft blue glow from Taehyung’s dual monitors filled the tiny home office, washing over his sharp jawline and focused eyes. He sat hunched forward, glasses slipping down his nose, fingers flying across the keyboard.

You could hear his deep voice from the kitchen, low and frustrated as he muttered, “Ugh, I forgot the pipeline isn’t working again…, I should fix that first.”

Pipeline?

You froze mid-swipe of frosting on a cupcake, eyes going wide.

In your baker brain, that word had only one meaning: pipes. Water. Leaks. Flooding.

Panic flared in your chest.

You’d only been married to Taehyung for six months, and while you adored his nerdy quirks and soulful eyes, you weren’t ready to deal with a plumbing disaster at 9 p.m. on a random Tuesday.

Before you even realized, you were in full disaster management mode.

Tossing the frosting bag aside, you yanked open the cupboard under the sink like a superhero about to save the day.

Out came your pink emergency bucket, the “funny” wedding gift by your cousins, a flashlight, and the biggest wrench you owned.

“Don’t worry, babe!” you yelled, already crawling under the sink, your bunny-print shorts riding up as you wriggled in. “I’ll deal with the pipeline! You focus on your work.”

From the office, the furious tapping on the keyboard stopped.

Silence.

Then the sound of footsteps approaching.

When you looked up, a shadow loomed over you.

Taehyung stood there, leaning against the counter, one brow raised, his arms folded across his chest. His messy black hair framed his face, and those sharp eyes softened with pure amusement.

“…Sweetheart,” he said, his voice deep and warm, a smile tugging at his lips, “what exactly are you doing under there?”

You sat up, banging your head lightly on the edge of the sink.

“Ow!” Rubbing your forehead, you pouted at him, still clutching the wrench.

“I’m checking the pipeline!” you said seriously. “You said it’s not working, right? I thought let's check before it gets worse. You’ve been so stressed lately—I just didn’t want the house to flood!”

For a second, he stared at you like he couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Then it happened.

The laugh.

Not just any laugh—that laugh.

Loud, deep, warm, the one that made his whole face light up, eyes crinkling into those gorgeous half-moons you loved so much.

“Oh my God…” he bent slightly, clutching his stomach as he laughed, “you’re unbelievable.”

Your cheeks burned.

“Stop laughing!” you squeaked, crawling out and sitting on the floor, crossing your arms. “I was trying to help!”

He crouched down in front of you, still chuckling, and gently pried the wrench from your hand. His fingers were warm as they slid over yours, lingering a little longer than necessary.

“Baby,” he said softly, smiling like you hung the stars, “I wasn’t talking about real pipes. It’s… a coding pipeline. Computer stuff.”

You blinked. “Coding… pipeline?” He nodded.

“So… no water?” You asked.

“No water.”

You groaned, burying your face in your hands. “I hate this tech world of yours.”

He grinned, tilting your chin up with one long finger. “And yet you married me,” he teased, voice dropping lower, smooth as honey. His hands slipped around your waist, pulling you up effortlessly until you were flush against his chest.

“Because apparantly I love you.” You whispered.

The scent of him—clean soap and something warm, like cedar—wrapped around you. Your heart fluttered when he brushed his lips over your forehead and whispered, “You, crawling under the sink in bunny shorts, trying to save my day? That’s the cutest thing I’ve ever seen.”

Your breath caught.

He didn’t stop there—his mouth trailed to your temple, your cheek, until his lips finally found yours. The kiss started soft, teasing, but when you whimpered against him, it turned hungry.

Your hands fisted in his hoodie, dragging him closer, needing his warmth like oxygen.

“Tae,” you breathed when his lips left yours, only to press kisses along your jaw.

“Hmm?” His smirk was sinful as he brushed his thumb over your kiss-swollen lip. “You were saying something about helping?”

Your heart stuttered. “I—”

“You helped me, baby,” he murmured against your skin, his voice like a promise, sending shivers straight to your toes. “Made my night a hell of a lot better.”

You were about to respond, but he smirked, nipped your lower lip, and whispered: “Now… how about you help me with something else?”

You swatted his arm, giggling. “You’re impossible.”

“And you’re mine,” he shot back, stealing one last kiss before letting you go, leaving you flustered and breathless against the counter.

A few days later, you were in the living room, humming softly as you arranged a tray of freshly baked macarons for a customer order.

The sweet smell of sugar and vanilla filled the air.

Taehyung was in his home office, voice drifting through the slightly open door as he spoke on a call.

“Yeah, I’ll check POSTMAN for the API response,” he said casually, scribbling something on a notepad.

Your ears perked up. Postman?

Immediately, you pictured the small post office down the street with its flickering sign and the clerk who always looked like she hated her job.

Your heart squeezed a little.

Did he order something? Is it important? He’s been working so hard lately, staying up so late… maybe he forgot to pick up a package.

Without thinking twice, you grabbed your purse and slipped on your sneakers. “I’ve got this, Tae,” you muttered, already heading out the door like some self-declared superhero wife.

You drove to the post office, weaving through evening traffic, determined to save the day.

The post office was quiet when you arrived, a faint smell of paper and dust lingering in the air. Walking up to the counter, you smiled brightly at the bored-looking clerk.

“Hi! I’m here to pick up a package for Kim Taehyung.”

She typed something lazily, then glanced up. “Nothing under that name.”

You frowned. “Are you sure? He said something about a postman and… an API?”

The woman blinked at you, clearly confused. “API? Is that… international shipping?”

“Maybe... I don’t know!” you admitted with a helpless laugh. “He just said he needed to check the postman, so I thought—”

The clerk shrugged. “No packages.”

Defeated but still determined, you pulled out your phone and called Taehyung.

He picked up on the second ring.

“Babe,” you said, pacing outside the building. “I’m at the post office, and they said there’s no package for you!”

There was a pause.

Then you heard him snort. “Sweetheart… you’re where?”

“The post office!” you huffed, feeling a little defensive. “You said you needed to check the postman, so I thought you were too tired to pick something up—”

His laughter exploded through the phone, loud and uncontrollable. You could practically see him doubled over in his chair, glasses slipping down his nose. “Oh my God, baby… POSTMAN is a software tool! For testing APIs! It’s not an actual postman!”

You froze. “...Oh no.”

He was still laughing, but softer now, like he was trying to catch his breath. “You drove all the way there for me?”

Your cheeks burned. “I just wanted to help…”

“Stay there,” he said gently, his voice dropping to that warm tone that always melted you. “I’m coming to get you.”

Fifteen minutes later, his car pulled up.

You climbed in, face burning so hot you could toast marshmallows on it. He didn’t say anything at first—just reached over, took your hand, and held it tight. His lips twitched like he was dying to laugh again, but instead, he leaned over and kissed your cheek softly.

“You’re unbelievable,” he murmured, eyes warm and shining with amusement. “Running to the post office for me? God, I love you.”

“I thought you were too tired to pick it up!” you protested, your voice small. “I just wanted to make things easier for you…”

“I know, baby.” His voice softened even more, and he gave you a slow, sweet kiss that made your stomach flip. “That’s why I can’t stop falling for you.”

The drive to home was quiet, but the air felt heavy, charged.

When you stepped inside the apartment, you barely had time to take off your shoes before he shut the door and pinned you gently against it. His hands braced on either side of your head, his eyes locked on yours, dark and burning now.

“You’re gonna drive me insane,” he murmured, his breath brushing your lips. “Running all over town for my stupid tech terms…”

Your breath hitched, your pulse racing.

“I just thought... I was helping you,” you whispered.

He leaned in, his forehead pressing to yours.

“And you did,” he said softly. “You made me laugh when I needed it the most. You… you make me feel alive, you know that?”

Before you could reply, his lips were on yours—hot, hungry, full of everything he couldn’t say out loud. You melted into him instantly, your hands gripping his hoodie like your life depended on it.

The kiss deepened, his tongue brushing against yours in slow, teasing strokes that made your knees weak.

He lifted you easily, your legs wrapping around his waist as he carried you to the couch. His mouth trailed down your jaw, to your neck, leaving little kisses that made your skin tingle.

“I love your chaos,” he whispered against your skin, voice rough with emotion. “Every single bit of it.”

You laughed breathlessly, your heart full as his hands roamed your body, touching you like you were the most precious thing in the world.

One Monday, Taehyung came home late that night, looking absolutely exhausted.

His tie hung loose, his shirt wrinkled, and his hair was a messy halo—clearly from running his hands through it all day.

He looked like he had fought a war and barely survived.

You were curled up on the couch, watching a baking show with a plate of cookies on your lap.

The moment you saw him, your heart squeezed.

God, he looks so tired. You quickly put the plate aside and patted the seat next to you.

“Come here, baby,” you said softly.

He kicked off his shoes and dropped onto the couch like gravity was pulling him. With a heavy sigh, he let his head fall back. You immediately snuggled into his side, resting your head on his chest.

His arm wrapped around you like second nature, and you began tracing small circles on his shirt.

“How was your day?” you asked gently.

“Deployment failed,” he muttered, his voice full of frustration.

“The new build crashed, and I’ve been debugging for hours.”

You froze. Deployment? Failed?

Oh my God, is it something serious? Did he… lose his job?

You sat up so fast you nearly knocked the cookies over. “Deployment failed? What does that even mean? Are they firing you? Is this bad?”

His brows shot up, caught off guard by your panic.

Then slowly, his lips curved into a smile before he started chuckling. “No, love. No... It’s just… the code deployment didn’t work. The new version of the app failed. That’s all.”

But you were already in full-on dramatic wife mode, grabbing his hands with a fierce determination.

“Don’t worry, babe. We’ll figure it out.”

“Even if we become homeless, I’m not leaving you. I’ll sell my jewelry. We still have the bakery—we can turn it into a full café! You can make ramyeon, and I’ll bake, and we’ll be fine!”

Taehyung just stared at you for two whole seconds before bursting into the loudest laughter you’d ever heard.

He literally fell back against the couch, clutching his stomach, tears streaming down his face. “Oh my God, baby… what—what even—”

He couldn’t breathe, he was laughing so hard.

You sat there, cheeks burning like a freshly baked strawberry tart. “Stop laughing! I am serious!”

“Oh no,” he said between laughs, pulling you into his lap.

“I’m not laughing at you, I’m laughing because I love you so much. Homeless? Selling jewelry? For a failed software update?!” He was still giggling as he cupped your cheeks and showered your face with kisses.

You hid your face in his neck, groaning. “Why am I so dumb?”

“Dumb?” he repeated gently, pulling back to look at you with so much love it made your throat tighten.

“You’re not dumb. You’re… the sweetest thing in my world. You don’t know tech stuff, and that’s okay. Your world is sugar, flour, butter and making people happy with your baking. Mine is code and chaos. And I love that. I love you.”

Your heart fluttered, a warmth spreading through your chest as you melted into him, wrapping your arms around his neck.

“I just want to help you whenever you look tired and stressed,” you whispered, your voice soft but earnest.

“Oh, you help, alright,” he teased, his lips curling into a playful smirk as he pulled you closer, your thighs straddling his.

“You make every day better just by being you.” His lips found yours, the kiss deep and hungry, his hands sliding to your hips to pull you flush against him.

The air grew heavy, charged with a familiar electricity, as his kisses trailed down your jaw, your neck, each one igniting a spark that made your skin tingle.

“Tae,” you gasped, your fingers tangling in his hair as his lips grazed the sensitive spot below your ear, his breath hot against your skin.

“You’re tired, you don’t have to—”

“Shh,” he murmured, his voice a low, husky growl that sent shivers down your spine.

“I’m never too tired for you, sweetheart.” His hands slid under your shirt, his fingers tracing the curve of your spine, leaving a trail of goosebumps. “Let me show you how much I love your chaos.”

He guided you to lie back on the couch, his movements slow and deliberate, his eyes never leaving yours. The soft fabric of the couch was cool against your back, a stark contrast to the heat of his body as he hovered over you.

“You’re too good for me,” he whispered, his lips brushing yours before trailing down to your collarbone, his kisses feather-light but searing, each one making your heart race.

You squirmed beneath him.

A soft whine escaping as his hands slid down to your leggings, tugging them down with your panties in one smooth motion.

The air was cool against your bare skin, and you shivered, but the warmth of his touch grounded you. “Tae, you're tired, you don’t—” you started, but he cut you off with a playful nip to your inner thigh, his eyes glinting with mischief.

“Don’t what?” he teased, his voice low and rough as he settled between your legs, his breath hot against your skin.

“Don’t worship my perfect wife? Don’t make her feel as good as she makes me feel?”

He kissed the inside of your thigh, slow and deliberate, his lips soft but firm, sending a jolt of pleasure through you. “Not a chance, baby.”

You giggled, the sound turning into a gasp as his tongue flicked out, teasingly close to your core.

“You’re gonna regret this when you’re falling asleep at your desk tomorrow,” you managed, your voice breathy as you tried to keep up the banter.

“Worth it,” he murmured, his lips curving into a smirk against your skin.

“Besides, you’re way more fun than debugging code.”

His hands gripped your hips, holding you in place as his tongue finally found your core, a slow, deliberate lick that made your head fall back, a moan slipping from your lips.

The sensation was electric, his tongue warm and wet, moving in languid circles that sent butterflies fluttering wildly in your stomach.

“Tae,” you whimpered, your fingers tangling in his hair, tugging gently as he worked you with agonizing precision.

The room filled with the soft sounds of your gasps and his low hums of appreciation, the vibrations sending waves of pleasure through you.

His tongue swirled, teasing your clit with just the right pressure, and you arched into him, your thighs trembling.

“God, you taste so good,” he groaned, his voice muffled against you, the words sending a fresh wave of heat through your core.

He pulled back slightly, his eyes meeting yours, dark and intense.

“You have no idea what you do to me, do you? Your ways of helping me… you’re fucking irresistible.”

You laughed breathlessly, your cheeks flushing at his words.

“You’re ridiculous,” you teased, but the words dissolved into a moan as he dove back in, his tongue flicking faster now, relentless but still gentle, coaxing you toward the edge with every movement.

The scent of his cologne mingled with the faint vanilla from your baking earlier—an intoxicating mix that wrapped around you like silk.

“Ridiculous, huh?” he murmured, pausing just long enough to flash you a wicked grin.

He nipped at your thigh again, playful but sharp, before returning to his task, his lips and tongue working in tandem to drive you wild. Your body tensed, the pleasure building in a slow, delicious wave, your breath hitching as he pushed you closer and closer to release.

“Tae, please,” you begged, your voice high and desperate, your hips bucking against his hold.

He tightened his grip, keeping you still, his tongue moving faster, more insistent, until the tension snapped, and you came undone with a cry of his name.

The pleasure crashed over you, warm and overwhelming, your body trembling as he lapped at you gently, drawing out every last shiver.

He kissed his way back up, lingering on your stomach, your collarbone, before settling beside you, pulling you into his arms. His lips brushed your temple, soft and reverent, as you caught your breath, your body still buzzing from the intensity.

“You’re my everything,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion, his fingers tracing lazy patterns on your arm. You curled into his chest, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat grounding you, and you felt a warmth that was more than just physical—a love so deep it made your chest ache.

“Best deployment fix ever,” you mumbled, your voice sleepy but teasing, and he chuckled, pulling you closer.

“Damn right,” he said, kissing your forehead.

“Now let’s get you cleaned up before you start planning our café empire again.”

It was nearly midnight, and the apartment was silent except for the low hum of Taehyung’s computer and the rhythmic tapping of keys.

Blue light from his monitors cast a soft glow across his sharp features—jaw tense, brows furrowed, glasses reflecting endless lines of code.

His hoodie hung loose on his frame, sleeves pushed up as his fingers danced across the keyboard, chasing a solution to a problem that had consumed his entire day.

You, on the other hand, were ready for bed, your eyelids heavy as you shuffled into his small home office—bare legs, drowning in his oversized T-shirt, hair messy from your late-night shower.

You rubbed your eyes, blinking at him sleepily, and the sight made something in his chest loosen.

“Tae,” you whined, leaning against the doorframe, “come to bed.”

He glanced over, and for a brief second, everything in him screamed to shut the laptop and follow you.

God, you looked like home—like warmth and sugar and everything he didn’t deserve after neglecting you all evening. But deadlines loomed like storm clouds over his head.

He offered a weak smile.

“Just five more minutes, love,” he whispered, tone soft but distracted as his fingers resumed their frantic dance.

You pouted, that adorable scrunch of your nose he could never resist, then padded toward him on quiet feet.

Before he could process, you were climbing into his lap, settling astride him with the ease of someone who belonged there.

The chair groaned under the shift of weight, but he didn’t care—your arms wrapped around his neck, your face burrowing into the crook of his shoulder, your body warm against his.

“You always say five minutes,” you mumbled, voice muffled by his hoodie, “and then it’s two hours.”

He laughed softly.

One hand slid instinctively to your thigh, thumb brushing slow, soothing circles into your skin. His other hand kept typing, but slower now, his focus split between fixing bugs and memorizing the way you felt on him.

“You’re distracting me,” he teased, voice husky with affection, pressing a fleeting kiss to your cheek before turning back to the glowing screens.

You hummed in response, curling against his chest, fitting there like a puzzle piece he never knew he needed.

Your steady breaths brushed warm against his skin, and soon your weight grew heavier, your small sighs softening into the rhythm of sleep.

When Taehyung finally looked down and saw you—truly saw you—his heart clenched.

Your lashes fanned against your cheeks, lips parted slightly, the tiniest trace of flour still dusted on your wrist. Even in sleep, you smelled like vanilla and sugar and the faintest hint of coffee from the bakery.

Innocent, sweet, and entirely his.

He swallowed hard, his throat tight.

How the hell did he get so lucky? How did someone this pure end up with someone who spends more time debugging than loving her the way she deserves?

Guilt pricked at him, sharp and sudden.

He adjusted his chair so you wouldn’t slip, one hand steadying your body, the other typing slower, quieter now, because the last thing he wanted was to wake you. Every few minutes, his eyes drifted to your face, and each time, his chest ached a little more.

An hour later, the code was fixed, the chaos tamed.

He exhaled a long, shaky breath, pushing his chair back carefully.

His arms slid under you effortlessly, lifting you against his chest bridal style. You stirred faintly, a sleepy murmur of his name tumbling from your lips, and it nearly broke him in half.

He pressed a kiss to your forehead, whispering, “Shh, go back to sleep, love. I’ve got you.”

The sheets were cool when he laid you down, tucking the blanket around you before slipping in beside you. The moment his body curved around yours, you instinctively reached for him, curling into his chest like you belonged nowhere else.

His arms locked around you, holding you so tight he could feel your heartbeat sync with his.

He buried his face in your hair, inhaling that sweet, familiar scent that reminded him of mornings in your bakery, of love that was soft but overwhelming.

“My perfect chaos,” he murmured against your skin, lips brushing the back of your neck. You made a small, contented noise, snuggling closer, and Taehyung closed his eyes, letting every ounce of tension bleed out of him.

The world could wait.

Deadlines, bugs, pressure—none of it mattered here, in this cocoon of warmth and vanilla, with the woman who made everything worth it.

For the first time all day, he felt peace.

It was a lazy Friday evening—the kind that smelled like warm cookies and peace.

Taehyung stepped through the door looking devastatingly calm, like stress had finally decided to take the night off. His tie hung loose around his neck, his dark hair slightly tousled from the drive, and there was that smirk—the one that made your stomach do somersaults—curving at his lips.

He took off his shoes and tossed his bag to the side, stretching like a cat, those long arms making his shirt strain just right.

“Well, someone’s glowing,” you teased from the kitchen, arranging a tray of chocolate chip cookies fresh out of the oven. The sugary aroma filled the apartment, clinging to the air like temptation.

“Finally see you without that stressed-out code-monkey frown,” you said, cocking your head as he leaned against the counter, watching you like you were the only dessert that mattered.

“Did you fix the internet or something?”

He chuckled, rolling up his sleeves, exposing those sinful forearms that had no business looking that good.

“Close enough,” he murmured, his tone all silk and heat. “Delivered all my fixes ahead of schedule. No bugs. No panic. No chaos.”

He stepped closer, his gaze locking on you like a heat-seeking missile. “Which means, Mrs. Kim, I’m all yours for the whole weekend.”

You sauntered toward him, wiping your hands on your apron, a smirk playing on your lips. “Oh, really? No broken pipelines? No screaming at poor POSTMAN?”

“Not unless you start screaming,” he shot back, voice low and rough, eyes glinting with something dangerous.

His fingers hooked into the apron strings at your waist, tugging gently, the knot loosening like a slow tease. “Though, full disclosure… my pipeline might need a little attention later.”

You swatted his chest, giggling despite the heat crawling up your neck. “You’re disgusting.”

He grinned, tilting his head down until his lips brushed your ear, his breath hot against your skin.

“You love it.” His voice was a velvet growl that sent a shiver straight down your spine. “You love when I talk to you like this… when I make you blush so hard you forget what you were saying.”

You swatted his arm, giggling. “Keep talking, Tae, and I’ll hide the cookies where you’ll never find them.”

He gasped dramatically, clutching his chest. “You wouldn’t dare starve your poor, hardworking husband.”

Your retort died in your throat as he pulled you flush against him, one hand gripping your ass through the thin fabric of your skirt, the other tilting your chin up so his dark eyes could devour every flicker of embarrassment and want.

He kissed you—soft at first, teasing, until you melted into him, his tongue sweeping into your mouth with a hunger that made your knees weak.

“Just need to check few emails before wrapping up. Come, keep me company while I finish up,” he murmured, tugging you toward his office.

Somehow, you ended up in his office, perched on the edge of his desk, with the plate of cookies, the glow of his monitor casting shadows that made the scene almost sinful.

He sank into his chair, pulling you into his lap, your apron slipping to the floor as his hands roamed under your shirt, fingers grazing bare skin and setting it aflame.

“You smell like sugar,” he murmured against your neck, teeth grazing the sensitive spot beneath your ear.

“Sweet enough to eat.” His tongue flicked out, licking a slow stripe up your throat, and you gasped, arching into him.

“You know,” you said, popping a cookie into your mouth and offering him one, “you look way too good sitting there all relaxed. I might have to mess you up just to keep things interesting.”

He took the cookie, his fingers brushing yours deliberately, sending a small spark through you.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he said, his voice dropping to that low, teasing tone that always made your stomach flip. “You’re already messing me up just by sitting here looking like that.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t hide your smile.

“Smooth talker. Maybe this will make your pipeline work,” you teased, leaning over to kiss his jaw, your lips brushing the corner of his lips. The scent of his cologne, warm and woodsy, filled your senses, making your heart race.

He froze, then burst out laughing, the sound rich and warm.

“Sweetheart...,” he said, his hands settling on your hips as he tugged you closer, as you straddled his lap. “You and your pipelines.”

His thumbs brushed the exposed skin where your skirt had ridden up, sending a shiver through you. “But you know what? I think you’re onto something.”

You grinned, looping your arms around his neck, your fingers playing with the soft hair at the nape. “Oh, yeah? What’s that, Mr. IT Genius?”

He leaned in, his lips grazing your ear, his breath hot and teasing. “You’re making my pipeline pretty damn hard right now,” he murmured, his voice a low growl that sent a jolt of heat straight to your core.

You gasped, swatting his chest playfully, but the mischief in his eyes only fueled the fire between you. “Taehyung!” you scolded, though your giggle betrayed you.

“You’re terrible.”

“Terrible?” he echoed, his hands sliding under your skirt, fingers tracing the sensitive skin of your thighs with deliberate slowness, each touch igniting sparks across your skin.

“I’m just getting started, baby.” His lips found your neck, kissing and nipping at the tender spot just below your ear, the faint scrape of his teeth making you whimper.

The air was thick with the scent of warm cookies and his cologne, a heady mix that made your head spin.

“You’re supposed to be relaxing,” you whispered, though your voice was already shaky, breathless.

“Oh, I am.”

His lips curved into a wicked grin as his hands slid higher, tugging your bra down just enough to cup your breast, his thumb rolling over your nipple until you whimpered.

“But you make it really hard to stay calm, baby.”

You wriggled out of his grip suddenly, sliding to the floor on your knees with a wicked smirk. “Let me help with that,” you said, your voice low and sultry, and his sharp intake of breath was everything.

“Sweetheart…” His voice cracked on the word as you unbuckled his belt with agonizing slowness, his cock already straining against his slacks.

“Holy fuck, you’re—shit—” His words dissolved into a groan as you freed him, your fingers wrapping around his length before your mouth closed over the tip.

“Oh God—” His head tipped back, glasses sliding down his nose as a raw moan tore from his throat.

“Fuck, that mouth—”

His hand tangled in your hair, guiding you as your tongue worked him, slow and deliberate, drawing out every sound you craved. You hollowed your cheeks, taking him deeper, your throat tightening around him as he muttered broken curses that sounded like prayers.

When you pulled back, lips shiny, you gave him a breathless grin. “Better than your emails?”

He let out a shaky laugh, but his eyes were wild now, pupils blown wide with lust.

“Emails don’t fucking suck me like this,” he growled, hauling you back into his lap before your knees could protest.

His hands shoved your skirt up, panties yanked aside without ceremony. “You’ve been teasing me all night,” he said, lining himself up, his tip sliding against your slick folds. “Now you take it.”

The first thrust stole your breath, a strangled cry tumbling from your lips as he filled you, stretching you to the brink.

His grip on your hips was bruising, anchoring you as he set a slow, punishing rhythm, each thrust deeper, harder, making the desk creak in protest.

“Fuck, baby,” he groaned into your neck, his breath ragged.

“You’re so tight—like you were made for me.” His words were filth and worship all at once, his teeth grazing your jaw as his pace quickened, his cock hitting that perfect spot again and again until your moans filled the room like music.

“Say it,” he growled, slamming into you so hard the desk rattled. “Say who makes you feel this good.”

“You—fuck—Taehyung—”

The words broke on a sob as the heat in your core coiled tighter, ready to snap. He kissed you then, desperate and consuming, swallowing your cries as he fucked you through your orgasm, his hips pounding relentlessly until you clenched around him, dragging him over the edge with you.

His groan vibrated against your lips as he spilled into you, his thrusts slowing, deep and shaky, like he couldn’t stand to let go yet.

When he finally stilled, forehead pressed to yours, both of you panting like you’d run a marathon, his laugh was breathless and wrecked.

“Best pipeline fix ever,” he rasped, kissing you softly, tender now, like you were the most precious thing he’d ever held.

You giggled weakly, running a hand through his messy hair. “You’re gonna have to fix this desk too.”

“Worth it,” he murmured, kissing you again, slower this time, his lips lingering as if he never wanted to stop. “You’re worth everything.”

Later that evening, after the storm of heat in his home office left both of you wrecked in the best way, Taehyung found himself silently thanking the universe for moments like this.

The kind that didn’t demand perfection.

The kind that simply asked him to be—with you.

The two of you had collapsed onto the couch blissfully drained, wrapped in the soft cocoon of an oversized lavender-scented blanket that smelled faintly like home.

Neither of you had the strength to even think about cooking after what happened earlier—his mind replayed flashes of you on his desk, flushed and breathless—and so he ordered takeout from your favorite spot.

Now, the coffee table was a delightful mess: steaming dumplings, glossy spicy noodles, crispy spring rolls scattered like little promises of comfort.

The savory aroma mixed with the sweet remnants of your baking spree, filling the space with something warm, something that made his chest ache in the gentlest way.

You were curled against his side now, your body molded into his like you were always meant to fit there. Your legs tucked under you, and his arm draped lazily across your shoulders.

He moved slowly, savoring this peace as he fed you noodles with his chopsticks.

His glasses sat crooked on his nose, his hair still a tousled mess from where your fingers had fisted it earlier—but damn, he’d never felt more alive, more seen.

“Open wide, my little chaos queen,” he teased softly, holding the chopsticks just out of reach.

God, the way your nose scrunched and lips pouted when you reached for the food made something deep in him melt and spark all at once. He pulled them back with a smirk, and your giggle—bright and playful—echoed in his chest like music.

“Tae, stop teasing!” you whined, grabbing his wrist and guiding the noodles to your mouth.

He chuckled, and his whole body felt lighter at that sound.

“You’re gonna starve me after all that… exercise.”

Exercise.

The word almost made him laugh out loud.

If you only knew what you did to him earlier—how you completely undid him with nothing but your voice, your touch.

Instead, he pressed a soft kiss against your temple, letting his lips linger there because he couldn’t not. You smelled like vanilla and warmth and everything safe.

“Exercise, huh?” His voice came out low, playful, but his chest ached in the sweetest way.

“That what we’re calling it now?” He pulled back just enough to look at you—really look at you—and for a fleeting second, he couldn’t believe this was his reality.

That he got to hold you like this after long days full of chaotic code and meetings and deadlines that drained him to the bone.

You were his comfort, his anchor.

“Don’t worry, baby,” he murmured, brushing a thumb across your cheek before stealing a soft kiss from your lips.

“I’ll keep you well-fed… and well-loved.”

Your cheeks flushed, and you buried your face against his chest like you could hide from the weight of those words—but Taehyung only held you tighter, his heart thrumming under your ear like it wanted to speak for him.

On the TV, some rom-com played in the background—two strangers falling in love in a world that didn’t matter.

But for him, the real story was right here, in this tiny apartment, in the sound of your quiet breaths syncing with his. You broke a spring roll in half and handed him a piece, your fingertips brushing his lips as he took it, savoring more the intimacy than the taste.

“Look at us,” you said softly, like you weren’t sure if you should.

“Being all domestic.” Your smile was teasing, but there was something tender hiding beneath it. “Who knew the IT genius could handle cuddles like a pro?”

He grinned, catching your hand and kissing your fingertips one by one—slow, reverent.

Who knew, indeed.

“Only for you,” he whispered against your skin, because that was the truth.

Everything he thought he wasn’t, he somehow became when you were around. “Best part of my day isn’t coding or debugging… it’s coming home to this. To you.”

He tugged you even closer then, adjusting the blanket until it swallowed you both whole, his arms wrapping around you like they could shield you from every storm in the world.

And as your laughter softened into quiet hums against his chest, Taehyung thought—no, he knew—that nothing, not even the perfect algorithm, could compare to this.

Drabble 1: Sitting in his lap while you yap about your current new quirky little interests and he wanders his hands all over you.

Drabble 2: When they casually ask you "Do you want me to make your heart race?"

Drabble 3: Late night grocery run with him.

Drabble 4: When your little one becomes your Bodyguard.

Drabble 5: When your arranged husband proves you wrong because you thought he is shy but he totally wrecks you on wedding night.

Drabble 6: When you ask him "Does men really not like loud women?" after watching a reel.

Drabble 7: When you receive the Christmas present, in the form of their feelings and heartfelt wishes.

Drabble 8: When you order dark chocolate from an online grocery app, without knowing it’s an aphrodisiac...

Drabble 9: He says he’s sleeping in another room over petty nonsense argument… but you give him one reason to stay.