Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
The line between treatment and control continues to blur.
After her last appointment, Y/N tries to stay away, but the hold Dr. Kim has over her proves stronger than she expected. What begins as a "home assignment" quickly becomes another test of obedience, pushing her further into a dynamic built on authority, dependence, and humiliation.
When she returns to the clinic, Dr. Kim reviews her progress and decides that practice alone is no longer enough.
With every session, Y/N finds herself surrendering more of her judgment, while Dr. Kim grows increasingly possessive of the role he plays in her life.
And as his methods become more personal, one question lingers:
Is this still therapy or something far more dangerous?
✨ Themes / Warnings (18+):
✧ Doctor x Patient Power Dynamic
✧ Manipulation / Coercive Themes
✧ Explicit Sexual Content
✧ Oral Sex Themes
✧ Humiliation & Praise
✧ DDLG-Coded Language ("Good Girl", "Sir")
✧ Dominant Taehyung
✧ Obsession / Possessiveness
✧ Emotional Dependency
✧ Infidelity Themes
✧ Dubious Consent Elements
✧ Pornography References
✧ Degradation Kink
✧ Breeding Kink Mentions
✧ Power Imbalance
✧ Mature Language Throughout
🚫 MNI — Minors Do Not Interact:
This work is strictly 18+ only due to explicit sexual content, mature themes, coercive dynamics, and strong language.
If you are underage, do not read, interact, repost, like, reblog, or engage with this work in any way.
This chapter contains fictional adult content intended for mature audiences only and may be uncomfortable for some readers. Please read the warnings carefully and proceed at your own discretion.
Y/N told herself the clinic door would stay shut forever after the last visit.
After Taehyung had forced three orgasms out of her sopping cunt with that buzzing wand, after she’d sprayed like a broken faucet all over his sterile floor, after he’d kissed her temple and sent her home with no panties and his come-here-again whisper still ringing in her ears.
She lasted four days.
Four days of lying next to her snoring husband, thighs clenched, clit swollen and untouched, replaying the memory of latex snapping, gloved fingers knuckle-deep, that low growl of “such a filthy little wife.”
She came three times in secret once in the shower with the showerhead pressed brutally to her clit, twice humping her own pillow like an animal while picturing Taehyung’s thick cock stretching her throat instead of the cucumber he would soon make her choke on.
So when the reminder text arrived polite, clinical, signed simply Dr. Kim her cunt clenched before her brain could even form the word no.
Now she’s back.
Perched on the edge of his leather couch like a scared rabbit, pastel skirt riding up her thighs, pastel purse clutched to her chest like armor. Taehyung sits behind the desk in rolled-up sleeves, forearms corded and veined, long fingers drumming lazily. The same fingers that had curled inside her until she screamed.
“You want to please your husband, don’t you, sweetheart?”
She nods. Tiny, automatic.
“Good girls use their mouths too. Not just their dripping little cunts.”
The word lands like a slap. Her nipples pebble instantly under the thin sundress.
He opens his laptop. The wall-mounted TV flares to life.
No gentle fade-in. Straight to hardcore.
A woman on all fours, mascara-streaked, throat bulging around a fat cock. Drool ropes from her chin to her swinging tits. The man fists her hair and uses her deep, punishing thrusts that make her gag wetly, choke, eyes rolling back. Spit bubbles at the corners of her stretched lips. She looks wrecked. Blissed out. Owned.
Y/N’s breath hitches. Her thighs squeeze so hard she feels her own slick smear between them.
“Watch how she takes it,” Taehyung murmurs, eyes never leaving Y/N’s face. “See how she lets him fuck her face like a hole? How she drools for it? How she begs with her eyes even when she can’t speak?”
Y/N’s tongue darts out wet, unconscious licking her bottom lip. Taehyung catches the motion. His thumb drags over the same spot, pressing until her mouth parts wider.
“You’re going to learn to do that,” he says softly. “Messy. Sloppy. Desperate. You’re going to gag on cock until tears run down your pretty cheeks and your husband finally notices you exist.”
She whimpers. The porn keeps playing wet glucks, choked moans, the obscene schlick-schlick of spit-lubed shaft sliding in and out.
Taehyung slides his phone across the desk.
“Tonight. At home. You’re going to practice.”
Her fingers tremble as she takes it.
“Cucumber. Thickest one you can find. Strip to your waist. Tits out nipples hard like they are right now. Get on your knees in front of a mirror so you can watch yourself be a whore. Record every second. Show me how deep you can force it. How much spit you can make drip onto your tits. How many times you gag before you give up.”
Her cunt pulses at the orders. She hates that it does.
“And when you’re done,” he leans in, breath hot against her ear, “you’re going to send it to the number I text you. No deleting. No pretty angles. Just raw, humiliating footage of a neglected wife training her throat like the desperate slut she is.”
She tries to speak can’t.
He cups her jaw. Forces eye contact.
“Do it, Y/N. Or I’ll stop helping you. And you’ll spend the rest of your marriage aching, empty, untouched.”
She nods. Tears already prickling.
That night the bathroom smells like cucumber and shame.
She locks the door. Sets the phone on the sink ledge. Props it so the camera catches everything her flushed face, her trembling hands, the way her heavy tits spill free when she yanks the sundress down and shoves her bra under them.
The cucumber is obscene longer and thicker than she remembered vegetables could be. Cold against her palm. She kneels on the bath mat. Spreads her thighs just enough that the wet spot on her panties shows in frame.
She starts slow.
Licks the tip like the woman in the video. Flat tongue, swirling. Pretends it’s him. Pretends he’s watching already.
Then she sucks.
The first inch is easy. The second makes her cheeks hollow. The third hits her soft palate she gags, eyes watering instantly. Spit floods her mouth. She forces it deeper anyway. Chokes. Pulls back. Strings of saliva connect her lips to the green skin.
She tries again. Harder. Faster.
Her tits bounce with every bob of her head. Nipples drag against the rough mat. She moans around the vegetable muffled, pathetic. Drool runs in thick rivulets down her chin, splashes onto her chest, pools between her breasts.
She rocks faster. Gags louder. Lets the cucumber fuck her throat until her nose brushes the skin and her eyes stream. Her free hand slips between her legs rubs frantic circles over her soaked panties.
She comes like that kneeling, choking on a vegetable, tits heaving, drool dripping everywhere, cunt spasming around nothing while she films her own degradation.
When the video ends she’s gasping, mascara tracks down her cheeks, nipples diamond-hard, thighs slick to the knee.
She sends it before she can think.
Next appointment.
She can barely sit still on the exam table. Panties already ruined again.
Taehyung plays the video on his phone. Volume low. Just enough for her to hear her own gags, her own whimpers, the wet choking sounds.
He watches the whole thing without blinking.
When it finishes he stands. Walks around the desk. Tilts her chin up with one finger.
“Better,” he says. Voice rough. “But still too clean.”
He unzips.
His cock springs free thicker than she remembered, veins pulsing, head already glistening. Smells like clean skin and raw want.
“Open. Wide.”
She does.
He doesn’t ease in.
He grabs her hair in a fist and feeds it to her slow at first, letting her feel every inch stretch her lips, then faster. Deeper. Until the head punches the back of her throat and she gags hard.
“Relax that slutty throat,” he growls. “Breathe through your nose like a good girl.”
He starts fucking her face in earnest.
Long, deliberate strokes that make her eyes water instantly. Drool pours out thick, messy strands that slap against her chin, drip onto her tits still trapped in her bra. He yanks the cups down so her breasts spill free, bouncing with every thrust.
“Look at me while I use your mouth.”
She does eyes streaming, mascara ruined, lips stretched obscene around him.
He groans. Deep. Animal.
“Fuck… such a perfect little cocksleeve. My perfect little trainee.”
He speeds up. Hips snapping. Balls slapping her chin wetly. She chokes every few strokes gurgles around him, tears streaming, spit bubbling at the corners of her mouth.
“You love this,” he pants. “Love being my filthy project. Love choking on cock while your useless husband sleeps.”
She moans vibrating around him. Her cunt throbs, untouched, dripping down her thighs onto the table paper.
He pulls out suddenly. Slaps his wet cock against her cheek once, twice leaving shiny streaks.
“Beg for it.”
“Please…” Her voice is wrecked, hoarse. “Please fuck my throat… Doctor… I need it…”
He snarls. Shoves back in. Holds her head still and uses her short, brutal thrusts that make her gag continuously, throat convulsing around him.
When he comes it’s sudden hot, thick ropes flooding her mouth, spilling past her lips because she can’t swallow fast enough. He pulls out halfway through, painting her tongue, her chin, her heaving tits with the rest.
She gasps. Coughs. Drool and come string from her swollen lips.
He wipes his cock on her cheek. Tucks himself away.
Then he leans down. Kisses her ruined mouth slow, filthy, tasting himself on her tongue.
“Good girl,” he murmurs against her lips. “Next time I’m eating this greedy cunt until you scream. And then I’m breeding it.”
He pats her soaked mound once hard.
“See you soon, sweetheart.”
She leaves with come drying on her tits, throat raw, panties ruined, already aching for the next appointment.
The line between treatment and control continues to blur.
After her last appointment, Y/N tries to stay away, but the hold Dr. Kim has over her proves stronger than she expected. What begins as a "home assignment" quickly becomes another test of obedience, pushing her further into a dynamic built on authority, dependence, and humiliation.
When she returns to the clinic, Dr. Kim reviews her progress and decides that practice alone is no longer enough.
With every session, Y/N finds herself surrendering more of her judgment, while Dr. Kim grows increasingly possessive of the role he plays in her life.
And as his methods become more personal, one question lingers:
Is this still therapy or something far more dangerous?
✨ Themes / Warnings (18+):
✧ Doctor x Patient Power Dynamic
✧ Manipulation / Coercive Themes
✧ Explicit Sexual Content
✧ Oral Sex Themes
✧ Humiliation & Praise
✧ DDLG-Coded Language ("Good Girl", "Sir")
✧ Dominant Taehyung
✧ Obsession / Possessiveness
✧ Emotional Dependency
✧ Infidelity Themes
✧ Dubious Consent Elements
✧ Pornography References
✧ Degradation Kink
✧ Breeding Kink Mentions
✧ Power Imbalance
✧ Mature Language Throughout
🚫 MNI — Minors Do Not Interact:
This work is strictly 18+ only due to explicit sexual content, mature themes, coercive dynamics, and strong language.
If you are underage, do not read, interact, repost, like, reblog, or engage with this work in any way.
This chapter contains fictional adult content intended for mature audiences only and may be uncomfortable for some readers. Please read the warnings carefully and proceed at your own discretion.
Y/N told herself the clinic door would stay shut forever after the last visit.
After Taehyung had forced three orgasms out of her sopping cunt with that buzzing wand, after she’d sprayed like a broken faucet all over his sterile floor, after he’d kissed her temple and sent her home with no panties and his come-here-again whisper still ringing in her ears.
She lasted four days.
Four days of lying next to her snoring husband, thighs clenched, clit swollen and untouched, replaying the memory of latex snapping, gloved fingers knuckle-deep, that low growl of “such a filthy little wife.”
She came three times in secret once in the shower with the showerhead pressed brutally to her clit, twice humping her own pillow like an animal while picturing Taehyung’s thick cock stretching her throat instead of the cucumber he would soon make her choke on.
So when the reminder text arrived polite, clinical, signed simply Dr. Kim her cunt clenched before her brain could even form the word no.
Now she’s back.
Perched on the edge of his leather couch like a scared rabbit, pastel skirt riding up her thighs, pastel purse clutched to her chest like armor. Taehyung sits behind the desk in rolled-up sleeves, forearms corded and veined, long fingers drumming lazily. The same fingers that had curled inside her until she screamed.
“You want to please your husband, don’t you, sweetheart?”
She nods. Tiny, automatic.
“Good girls use their mouths too. Not just their dripping little cunts.”
The word lands like a slap. Her nipples pebble instantly under the thin sundress.
He opens his laptop. The wall-mounted TV flares to life.
No gentle fade-in. Straight to hardcore.
A woman on all fours, mascara-streaked, throat bulging around a fat cock. Drool ropes from her chin to her swinging tits. The man fists her hair and uses her deep, punishing thrusts that make her gag wetly, choke, eyes rolling back. Spit bubbles at the corners of her stretched lips. She looks wrecked. Blissed out. Owned.
Y/N’s breath hitches. Her thighs squeeze so hard she feels her own slick smear between them.
“Watch how she takes it,” Taehyung murmurs, eyes never leaving Y/N’s face. “See how she lets him fuck her face like a hole? How she drools for it? How she begs with her eyes even when she can’t speak?”
Y/N’s tongue darts out wet, unconscious licking her bottom lip. Taehyung catches the motion. His thumb drags over the same spot, pressing until her mouth parts wider.
“You’re going to learn to do that,” he says softly. “Messy. Sloppy. Desperate. You’re going to gag on cock until tears run down your pretty cheeks and your husband finally notices you exist.”
She whimpers. The porn keeps playing wet glucks, choked moans, the obscene schlick-schlick of spit-lubed shaft sliding in and out.
Taehyung slides his phone across the desk.
“Tonight. At home. You’re going to practice.”
Her fingers tremble as she takes it.
“Cucumber. Thickest one you can find. Strip to your waist. Tits out nipples hard like they are right now. Get on your knees in front of a mirror so you can watch yourself be a whore. Record every second. Show me how deep you can force it. How much spit you can make drip onto your tits. How many times you gag before you give up.”
Her cunt pulses at the orders. She hates that it does.
“And when you’re done,” he leans in, breath hot against her ear, “you’re going to send it to the number I text you. No deleting. No pretty angles. Just raw, humiliating footage of a neglected wife training her throat like the desperate slut she is.”
She tries to speak can’t.
He cups her jaw. Forces eye contact.
“Do it, Y/N. Or I’ll stop helping you. And you’ll spend the rest of your marriage aching, empty, untouched.”
She nods. Tears already prickling.
That night the bathroom smells like cucumber and shame.
She locks the door. Sets the phone on the sink ledge. Props it so the camera catches everything her flushed face, her trembling hands, the way her heavy tits spill free when she yanks the sundress down and shoves her bra under them.
The cucumber is obscene longer and thicker than she remembered vegetables could be. Cold against her palm. She kneels on the bath mat. Spreads her thighs just enough that the wet spot on her panties shows in frame.
She starts slow.
Licks the tip like the woman in the video. Flat tongue, swirling. Pretends it’s him. Pretends he’s watching already.
Then she sucks.
The first inch is easy. The second makes her cheeks hollow. The third hits her soft palate she gags, eyes watering instantly. Spit floods her mouth. She forces it deeper anyway. Chokes. Pulls back. Strings of saliva connect her lips to the green skin.
She tries again. Harder. Faster.
Her tits bounce with every bob of her head. Nipples drag against the rough mat. She moans around the vegetable muffled, pathetic. Drool runs in thick rivulets down her chin, splashes onto her chest, pools between her breasts.
She rocks faster. Gags louder. Lets the cucumber fuck her throat until her nose brushes the skin and her eyes stream. Her free hand slips between her legs rubs frantic circles over her soaked panties.
She comes like that kneeling, choking on a vegetable, tits heaving, drool dripping everywhere, cunt spasming around nothing while she films her own degradation.
When the video ends she’s gasping, mascara tracks down her cheeks, nipples diamond-hard, thighs slick to the knee.
She sends it before she can think.
Next appointment.
She can barely sit still on the exam table. Panties already ruined again.
Taehyung plays the video on his phone. Volume low. Just enough for her to hear her own gags, her own whimpers, the wet choking sounds.
He watches the whole thing without blinking.
When it finishes he stands. Walks around the desk. Tilts her chin up with one finger.
“Better,” he says. Voice rough. “But still too clean.”
He unzips.
His cock springs free thicker than she remembered, veins pulsing, head already glistening. Smells like clean skin and raw want.
“Open. Wide.”
She does.
He doesn’t ease in.
He grabs her hair in a fist and feeds it to her slow at first, letting her feel every inch stretch her lips, then faster. Deeper. Until the head punches the back of her throat and she gags hard.
“Relax that slutty throat,” he growls. “Breathe through your nose like a good girl.”
He starts fucking her face in earnest.
Long, deliberate strokes that make her eyes water instantly. Drool pours out thick, messy strands that slap against her chin, drip onto her tits still trapped in her bra. He yanks the cups down so her breasts spill free, bouncing with every thrust.
“Look at me while I use your mouth.”
She does eyes streaming, mascara ruined, lips stretched obscene around him.
He groans. Deep. Animal.
“Fuck… such a perfect little cocksleeve. My perfect little trainee.”
He speeds up. Hips snapping. Balls slapping her chin wetly. She chokes every few strokes gurgles around him, tears streaming, spit bubbling at the corners of her mouth.
“You love this,” he pants. “Love being my filthy project. Love choking on cock while your useless husband sleeps.”
She moans vibrating around him. Her cunt throbs, untouched, dripping down her thighs onto the table paper.
He pulls out suddenly. Slaps his wet cock against her cheek once, twice leaving shiny streaks.
“Beg for it.”
“Please…” Her voice is wrecked, hoarse. “Please fuck my throat… Doctor… I need it…”
He snarls. Shoves back in. Holds her head still and uses her short, brutal thrusts that make her gag continuously, throat convulsing around him.
When he comes it’s sudden hot, thick ropes flooding her mouth, spilling past her lips because she can’t swallow fast enough. He pulls out halfway through, painting her tongue, her chin, her heaving tits with the rest.
She gasps. Coughs. Drool and come string from her swollen lips.
He wipes his cock on her cheek. Tucks himself away.
Then he leans down. Kisses her ruined mouth slow, filthy, tasting himself on her tongue.
“Good girl,” he murmurs against her lips. “Next time I’m eating this greedy cunt until you scream. And then I’m breeding it.”
He pats her soaked mound once hard.
“See you soon, sweetheart.”
She leaves with come drying on her tits, throat raw, panties ruined, already aching for the next appointment.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality
Anya is LIVE right now
FREE
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
New series alert ! I want to give a try to something new and this series is what I have planned for the time being I know you all are waiting for me to post on Tumblr or anything on doctor's series and yes I really want to complete the masterlist on Tumblr but I also don't want to give you all messy and rushed chapters so for the time being I m working on this series on whattpad to figure out if I can experiment with things and honestly this is the story that I wrote first and want my audience to reach to ! I will try to be consistent with this one and then will continue with others on Tumblr ! Thanks for keeping up with me still and liking and following my work here I hope I can receive the same love on Wattpad and i appreciate you all a lot !!! 💗
Kim Taehyung (Doctor) x Mrs. Lee Y/N (Married, Curvy Reader)
📁 Summary:
The second visit is no longer about tests or reports.
Dr. Kim introduces what he calls therapeutic tools objects meant to “help her body respond properly.”
Each vibration, each command, each lingering touch is framed as medical necessity, yet nothing about it feels clinical.
Her compliance deepens. His control tightens.
And while her husband believes she’s finally receiving help… Dr. Kim is already deciding how far her treatment should go.
He insists it’s therapy.
But therapy shouldn’t feel like surrender.
✨ Themes / Warnings (18+):
✧ Doctor x Patient Power Play
✧ Breeding Kink / Pregnancy Mention
✧ Dominant Taehyung
✧ DDLG-coded Language (“Sir”)
✧ Degradation & Praise
✧ Manipulation / Corruption Themes
✧ Non-Consensual / Dubious Consent Elements
✧ Forced Orgasm Themes
✧ Exhibitionistic Tone (public risk)
🚫 MNI — Minors Do Not Interact:
This work is strictly 18+ only due to mature, explicit themes and language.
If you are underage, do not read, interact, like, reblog, or engage in any way.
This content is not safe for minors or general audiences.
Y/N had sworn she wouldn’t come back.
She’d scrubbed between her legs until the skin was raw, trying to wash away the memory of Dr. Kim’s latex-covered fingers parting her, the humiliating way her cunt had clenched and drooled the second he’d called her “good girl.” She’d cried in the shower, thighs shaking, nipples still aching from his mouth the week before.
But her husband hadn’t fucked her that night.
Again.
He’d rolled over, grunted something about being tired, and left her lying there with her thighs pressed together, clit throbbing, replaying the low rumble of Taehyung’s voice telling her to spread wider. She came silently against her own palm at 3 a.m., biting the pillow so hard her jaw hurt, hating how wet the fantasy made her.
So when the clinic called with that polite automated reminder, her voice cracked on “Yes, I’ll be there.”
Now she’s back on the same cold table, paper crinkling under her ass, knees already trembling.
Taehyung isn’t wearing the white coat today just tight slate-gray scrubs that hug every thick inch of his chest, arms, thighs. The outline of his cock is obscene even soft. He leans against the wall, arms crossed, watching her like she’s already naked.
“Did you try again that night, Mrs. Lee?”
She nods, eyes glued to the floor. Voice barely a whisper.
“He… fell asleep before I could even—”
Taehyung tsks, low and disappointed. He steps between her knees, so close she can smell his clean skin and the faint antiseptic edge. One warm hand cups her jaw, thumb dragging over her bottom lip.
“Still no baby. Still no cum inside this needy little wife.”
His voice drops darker. “Poor neglected cunt.”
She flinches at the word but her thighs twitch open anyway.
He notices. Of course he does.
“Open wider for me, sweetheart. Let Doctor see how desperate she’s gotten since last time.”
Her hands shake as she hooks them under her knees and pulls them apart. The thin cotton of her panties is already damp at the center pale pink turning dark. Taehyung hums like he’s pleased.
“Look at that mess already.”
He hooks two fingers in the waistband and yanks them down in one smooth motion, not gentle. The fabric sticks to her soaked folds for a second before peeling away with a wet sound. He doesn’t even pretend to be professional about it he brings the damp crotch to his nose and inhales deeply.
“Fuck… you smell like you’ve been leaking for days.”
She squeaks, mortified, trying to close her legs. He plants one big hand on each thigh and forces them back open so wide her hips ache.
“Don’t you dare hide this pretty pussy from me. You came here dripping. You’re going to leave dripping more.”
He snaps on fresh gloves louder this time, deliberate. Then he spreads her with two fingers, exposing her completely. Her clit is swollen, peeking out, glistening. A thin string of arousal stretches and breaks as he pulls her lips apart.
“Jesus Christ,” he mutters, almost to himself. “This cunt is fucking starving.”
He doesn’t ease in today.
Two thick fingers plunge straight inside no warning, no teasing circles. She cries out, back arching off the table. He curls them immediately, grinding against that spongy front wall until her thighs shake violently.
“Listen to her,” he growls. “Soaking my gloves already. Greedy little hole.”
He reaches into the drawer without looking away from her face and pulls out the wand thicker than she remembers, medical-grade silicone, unmistakably phallic. He doesn’t turn it on yet. Just drags the fat head through her folds, coating it in her slick.
“You ever let anything this big near your clit at home?”
She shakes her head frantically. Tears already gathering.
“Didn’t think so.”
He flicks it on low at first. The deep, pulsing buzz makes her toes curl instantly. Then he presses the wide head directly to her clit and holds it there.
Her hips buck so hard the table rattles.
“Doctor—! Too much—!”
“Shut up and take it.”
His voice is velvet violence now. He cranks the vibration up one notch. Her mouth falls open in a silent scream. Slick gushes out around his fingers he adds a third, stretching her open, fucking her with brutal, precise strokes while the wand grinds mercilessly.
“Such a filthy wife,” he snarls. “Cumming on a stranger’s fingers while your husband can’t even get it up. You’re made for this, aren’t you? Made to be spread and used.”
She’s sobbing now open-mouthed, desperate little cries. Her walls flutter and clamp. He feels it.
“That’s it. Squirt for me again, you needy bitch. Show Doctor how badly this neglected cunt needs to be filled.”
He angles his fingers deeper, hammering that spot. The wand presses harder vibrating right through her clit into her core.
Her whole body locks.
A broken wail tears out of her throat as she comes harder than last time. Clear fluid sprays out in messy pulses, soaking his wrist, the table, dripping onto the floor. Her thighs snap shut around his arm but he doesn’t stop he fucks her through it, drawing it out until she’s shaking, overstimulated, babbling nonsense.
When she finally collapses, panting, he pulls his fingers free with a wet slurp. Holds them up so she can see how they glisten, coated to the knuckles.
“Open your mouth.”
She hesitates then parts her lips on instinct. He slides the dripping fingers inside. She tastes herself salty, musky, obscene. Her tongue curls around the latex automatically.
“Good girl,” he murmurs, voice wrecked. “Clean them.”
While she sucks, he drags the still-buzzing wand up her oversensitive slit again. She jerks, muffled whimper around his fingers.
“No—no more—please—”
He leans down until his mouth brushes her ear.
“We’re not done until I say your pussy is properly trained.”
He presses the wand back to her clit higher setting. Her hips jerk helplessly.
“Next time you come here,” he whispers, “I’m putting my cock in this greedy little hole and fucking a baby into you myself. Since your husband clearly can’t.”
Her eyes roll back. Another smaller, shattered orgasm rips through her just from the threat.
When he finally switches the wand off, she’s a trembling, soaked wreck dress rucked up, thighs shining, cunt puffy and red. He wipes her down slowly, almost tenderly, but keeps two fingers lazily circling her entrance, dipping in just to feel her twitch.
He tucks her soaked panties into her purse. Leans down. Kisses her temple.
“Go home like this. Dripping. Swollen. Tell him to fuck you tonight.”
His lips brush the shell of her ear.
“If he can’t make you come like that… you crawl back here tomorrow. And I’ll ruin this cunt so thoroughly you’ll never be satisfied with anything less again.”
Kim Taehyung (Doctor) x Mrs. Lee Y/N (Married, Curvy Reader)
📁 Summary:
The second visit is no longer about tests or reports.
Dr. Kim introduces what he calls therapeutic tools objects meant to “help her body respond properly.”
Each vibration, each command, each lingering touch is framed as medical necessity, yet nothing about it feels clinical.
Her compliance deepens. His control tightens.
And while her husband believes she’s finally receiving help… Dr. Kim is already deciding how far her treatment should go.
He insists it’s therapy.
But therapy shouldn’t feel like surrender.
✨ Themes / Warnings (18+):
✧ Doctor x Patient Power Play
✧ Breeding Kink / Pregnancy Mention
✧ Dominant Taehyung
✧ DDLG-coded Language (“Sir”)
✧ Degradation & Praise
✧ Manipulation / Corruption Themes
✧ Non-Consensual / Dubious Consent Elements
✧ Forced Orgasm Themes
✧ Exhibitionistic Tone (public risk)
🚫 MNI — Minors Do Not Interact:
This work is strictly 18+ only due to mature, explicit themes and language.
If you are underage, do not read, interact, like, reblog, or engage in any way.
This content is not safe for minors or general audiences.
Y/N had sworn she wouldn’t come back.
She’d scrubbed between her legs until the skin was raw, trying to wash away the memory of Dr. Kim’s latex-covered fingers parting her, the humiliating way her cunt had clenched and drooled the second he’d called her “good girl.” She’d cried in the shower, thighs shaking, nipples still aching from his mouth the week before.
But her husband hadn’t fucked her that night.
Again.
He’d rolled over, grunted something about being tired, and left her lying there with her thighs pressed together, clit throbbing, replaying the low rumble of Taehyung’s voice telling her to spread wider. She came silently against her own palm at 3 a.m., biting the pillow so hard her jaw hurt, hating how wet the fantasy made her.
So when the clinic called with that polite automated reminder, her voice cracked on “Yes, I’ll be there.”
Now she’s back on the same cold table, paper crinkling under her ass, knees already trembling.
Taehyung isn’t wearing the white coat today just tight slate-gray scrubs that hug every thick inch of his chest, arms, thighs. The outline of his cock is obscene even soft. He leans against the wall, arms crossed, watching her like she’s already naked.
“Did you try again that night, Mrs. Lee?”
She nods, eyes glued to the floor. Voice barely a whisper.
“He… fell asleep before I could even—”
Taehyung tsks, low and disappointed. He steps between her knees, so close she can smell his clean skin and the faint antiseptic edge. One warm hand cups her jaw, thumb dragging over her bottom lip.
“Still no baby. Still no cum inside this needy little wife.”
His voice drops darker. “Poor neglected cunt.”
She flinches at the word but her thighs twitch open anyway.
He notices. Of course he does.
“Open wider for me, sweetheart. Let Doctor see how desperate she’s gotten since last time.”
Her hands shake as she hooks them under her knees and pulls them apart. The thin cotton of her panties is already damp at the center pale pink turning dark. Taehyung hums like he’s pleased.
“Look at that mess already.”
He hooks two fingers in the waistband and yanks them down in one smooth motion, not gentle. The fabric sticks to her soaked folds for a second before peeling away with a wet sound. He doesn’t even pretend to be professional about it he brings the damp crotch to his nose and inhales deeply.
“Fuck… you smell like you’ve been leaking for days.”
She squeaks, mortified, trying to close her legs. He plants one big hand on each thigh and forces them back open so wide her hips ache.
“Don’t you dare hide this pretty pussy from me. You came here dripping. You’re going to leave dripping more.”
He snaps on fresh gloves louder this time, deliberate. Then he spreads her with two fingers, exposing her completely. Her clit is swollen, peeking out, glistening. A thin string of arousal stretches and breaks as he pulls her lips apart.
“Jesus Christ,” he mutters, almost to himself. “This cunt is fucking starving.”
He doesn’t ease in today.
Two thick fingers plunge straight inside no warning, no teasing circles. She cries out, back arching off the table. He curls them immediately, grinding against that spongy front wall until her thighs shake violently.
“Listen to her,” he growls. “Soaking my gloves already. Greedy little hole.”
He reaches into the drawer without looking away from her face and pulls out the wand thicker than she remembers, medical-grade silicone, unmistakably phallic. He doesn’t turn it on yet. Just drags the fat head through her folds, coating it in her slick.
“You ever let anything this big near your clit at home?”
She shakes her head frantically. Tears already gathering.
“Didn’t think so.”
He flicks it on low at first. The deep, pulsing buzz makes her toes curl instantly. Then he presses the wide head directly to her clit and holds it there.
Her hips buck so hard the table rattles.
“Doctor—! Too much—!”
“Shut up and take it.”
His voice is velvet violence now. He cranks the vibration up one notch. Her mouth falls open in a silent scream. Slick gushes out around his fingers he adds a third, stretching her open, fucking her with brutal, precise strokes while the wand grinds mercilessly.
“Such a filthy wife,” he snarls. “Cumming on a stranger’s fingers while your husband can’t even get it up. You’re made for this, aren’t you? Made to be spread and used.”
She’s sobbing now open-mouthed, desperate little cries. Her walls flutter and clamp. He feels it.
“That’s it. Squirt for me again, you needy bitch. Show Doctor how badly this neglected cunt needs to be filled.”
He angles his fingers deeper, hammering that spot. The wand presses harder vibrating right through her clit into her core.
Her whole body locks.
A broken wail tears out of her throat as she comes harder than last time. Clear fluid sprays out in messy pulses, soaking his wrist, the table, dripping onto the floor. Her thighs snap shut around his arm but he doesn’t stop he fucks her through it, drawing it out until she’s shaking, overstimulated, babbling nonsense.
When she finally collapses, panting, he pulls his fingers free with a wet slurp. Holds them up so she can see how they glisten, coated to the knuckles.
“Open your mouth.”
She hesitates then parts her lips on instinct. He slides the dripping fingers inside. She tastes herself salty, musky, obscene. Her tongue curls around the latex automatically.
“Good girl,” he murmurs, voice wrecked. “Clean them.”
While she sucks, he drags the still-buzzing wand up her oversensitive slit again. She jerks, muffled whimper around his fingers.
“No—no more—please—”
He leans down until his mouth brushes her ear.
“We’re not done until I say your pussy is properly trained.”
He presses the wand back to her clit higher setting. Her hips jerk helplessly.
“Next time you come here,” he whispers, “I’m putting my cock in this greedy little hole and fucking a baby into you myself. Since your husband clearly can’t.”
Her eyes roll back. Another smaller, shattered orgasm rips through her just from the threat.
When he finally switches the wand off, she’s a trembling, soaked wreck dress rucked up, thighs shining, cunt puffy and red. He wipes her down slowly, almost tenderly, but keeps two fingers lazily circling her entrance, dipping in just to feel her twitch.
He tucks her soaked panties into her purse. Leans down. Kisses her temple.
“Go home like this. Dripping. Swollen. Tell him to fuck you tonight.”
His lips brush the shell of her ear.
“If he can’t make you come like that… you crawl back here tomorrow. And I’ll ruin this cunt so thoroughly you’ll never be satisfied with anything less again.”
pairing: kth x Rei Himawari oc
word count: approx. 3.5k
genre: after-hours | intimacy | slow burn | explicit later | Dark Romance | Yakuza AU
platform note: originally written for Wattpad
POV: Rei Himawari
Rating: Explicit (18+ only)
links: masterlist ꨄ wattpad
In the yakuza world, a princess is not touched until she is claimed. Rei Himawari was raised untouched, guarded by tradition and blood oath, protected by a rule meant to preserve her until marriage.
Kim Taehyung, her mafia fiancé, was never taught how to wait—only how to take. And when his patience finally wore thin, the rule that once shielded Rei became nothing more than something he chose to break.
⚠️ This chapter contains mature themes and explicit sexual content.
If you're underage or sensitive to such material, please read with caution or skip this chapter. The book is rated Mature, and a content warning is also included in the introduction.
Rei's Father's birthday celebration
The hall was adorned in shades of ivory and ruby— dirt and darkness wrapped in an elegance scented wrap. Opaline and polychromatic fabrics draped from the ceiling like silken veils, and the perfume of sweet sake infused in the air. My mother had the idea— multicolored fabrics blending with other having appearance of an opal, with a milky iridescence. The genius of it was how rainbow-like play of color changed with angle of view.
She was indeed the best match for my father. My father is not the most romantic man one could know. Yet he once told me how there was something about my mother's eyes that caught his own when he first met her. Hence, their marriage. Maybe he's too boastful to hide love at first sight under disguise of just mere attraction.
Maidens in pale gowns and ladies in bright traditional kimonos moved like ghosts, delicate and silent. It would be sad if one were to confuse their softness as them being week. While men in dark suits reclined on velvet chairs like wolves fat on power.
The contrast between the purity of the maidens and the corruption of the males at the yakuza's gathering was a deliberate blend of art at its topmost. The kind of scene would be legendary if one were to lift the veil. But one wrong move, one brave pip-squeak with a moral compass, and the place will explode into a bloodshed.
I was walking towards the guest wing to call Aunt Shiron, as father asked. There was no need for me to dress up tonight— tonight was his spotlight not mine. Not that it mattered. Even if I showed up in a rag, people would still stare. They always did.
Their gaze lingered.
Their eyes sought mine, hungry to find the keyhole into my soul. But we Himawaris? We lock our doors tightly. There was no way in..... unless you break them— forcefully. Many have tried, shattering something in the process— their souls.
I was mid-thought, steps soft against the tatami, when a force yanked me sideways. A door slammed behind me as darkness swallowed everything.
My body reacted before I could think. Reflexes of trained muscle memory emerged as I kicked, elbowed and twisted. I used every inch of jujutsu skill I had honed since I was eight. My heel slammed into something followed by a grunt before strong hands twisted mine behind my back.
The scent was different which means it wasn't one of us. Cologne smelt expensive, foreign and dangerous. But who had the audacity to pull this stunt on me?
"What the fuck do you think you're doing?" I snarled, breathless. "Do you realize the crime you are— ah!" a large, unmistakably male hand clamped my mouth.
"Sweetheart, you should be careful how you talk to me."
My stomach dropped.
That voice.
NO.
His voice was calm, too calm. The low velvety purr was almost lethal. I could feel his smirk against my cheek before he placed a kiss on the shell of my ear. A featherlight touch, almost gentle.
Almost.
"Mmmm... What a spirit vixen!" I faced the other side as he grunted in my ear after I bit his hand that was clasped on my mouth.
"Ack—!" I twisted hard.
"But you rather not fight back, my Vixen."
He slammed me against the wall, chest to back, pinning me like a werewolf cornering it's prey. I gasped— the air punched out my lungs— his weight crushed into mine.
"Incase you forgot, I'd remind you now, since we have all the time in the world." He murmured, skimming his lips across my cheekbone.
"Myself, Kim Taehyung. The one your father agreed to get you engaged with— Oh.. Shh." I grind my teeth as he licked my unwanted tears.
"I haven't even started or done anything— yet. So don't cry, my vixen."
I wasn't actually scared or sad by the whole ordeal. I knew what he was onto by pinning me in one of the empty guest rooms. No one would come and no one would know even if I were to scream a thousand times. The tears were just a bodily action. Honestly if I could, I'd throw away this useless function. It made me feel weak on a very personal level.
My father never liked tears, he believes they show weakness and a chance for our enemy to feel better and stronger. We've already lost the moment a tear was dropped on the ground.
My heart fell in a pit when his head dropped in the crook of my neck. "You've been running away from me ever since your father accepted my proposal. Why?" His lips moving against my neck made me thrash. I didn't care to consider whether my kicks were hard or where they landed.
I winced when he bit my neck painfully resulting in my tears blurring my vision. My kicks stopping as he trapped my legs against the wall under weight of his knee. What is he? A beast?
Yakuza princess, no matter how high class or respected we were, we were supposed to be pure before being married to another. I couldn't understand what this beast was up to. His proposal was already accepted by father, yet he was torturing me in this manner.
"Hiding behind your family's name and status as if they can save you all the time? This little attitude you have—" He nuzzled his nose against my neck. "This fiery spirit you carry in your eyes— it's cute, really is. But dangerous. You do realize that, don't you? That your father didn't give you away to just a mere businessman from Seoul."
He spun me around and suddenly lights flickered on. It was the first time I've ever been close to this man, Kim Taehyung.
He didn't look bad, quite the opposite. He was a bachelorette who was quite popular and desired among the females of his country. But that was not my issue as ever since he saw me in a business party and our second meeting being his arrival at my house with a wedding proposal made him more unlikeable than he already was for me.
Being born in a yakuza family, I've been through all. I've been kidnapped and nearly killed almost more times than I can remember. Hence, I've developed a serious hate for male presence let alone touch.
"He gave you to a predator, princess. And this beast will love to break your spirit." His dark gaze directly pinning me down.
I won't let him see through me. He's gazing my eyes, trying to find something, just like the rest. But I don't allow such advances to anyone. Rei Himawari is not a doll. "And the same man will slit your throat once he realizes—"
"That he's dead."
"What?"
"You heard me right, princess. Once I tell my people to drop the chandelier under which your father is about to stand and give his birthday speech later in the evening, they will. How fascinating will it be when the thousands of perfectly shaped tear-drop diamonds will cut through his old, wrinkly bod—"
"You wouldn't dare. You really think you have any power in our territory? Its Tokyo, not Seoul—" I thrashed only to for him to tighten his hold on my waist and hold me down.
"And why not? Who will stop me, sweetheart? If I was you, I'd behave.." he whispered in my ear, biting my ear lobe. I whimpered lightly at the sensation, gritting my teeth immediately after when he let out a soft chuckle. If I hadn't been untouched, his advances wouldn't have messed with me as they did now. I hate things I can't control. I hate this.
"There's no way you can—"
He pulled away not giving me much time to think and dialed a number. One hand around my waist and the other held phone up in the air. When the call connected he put the call on speaker.
"Xam, is little Ms. Rico in your hold right now? Is it possible we could hear her? Seems like Ms. Himawari needs a demo of our power before she joins the family."
The moment those words rang in my ear I whipped my head in his direction. He was already flashing one of those boyish grin. The said man chuckled. There was a bit of disoriented noise in the background before we could hear Rico screaming.
"You motherfucker—"
"Nah, nah, nah. That's not how we talk when we are at the weak side, my love." he pinched my chin between his thumb and index, making sure my gaze was pinned on him.
Yakuzas are very particular about their females. Hence, we are always surrounded and protected by our bodyguards since the males are capable of protecting themselves. So, comparatively females have more bodyguards than males. Accidents happen but the chances are less unless you belong the upper chain, like me.
But I couldn't understand how did he even manage to capture Rico. Nevertheless, I shouldn't underestimate him now. If he could kidnap Rico it wasn't a lie he could harm my father as well.
"What do you want?"
"That's more like it. Actually, there's a rule I want you to break." He disconnected the call and threw his phone across the room, switching it off. His hand on my chin, slid down my throat. Going lower and lower, before resting at the sweetheart neckline of my satin gown.
I understood what rule he wanted me to break. It was always the same for women like us. Raised with swords and secrets, trained like warriors— but in the end, sold like property. Our value was bloodline, not backbone.
I stopped fighting. What was the point? I wasn't his wife yet, but that didn't mean I wasn't his. Once a deal was made in our world it was sealed by the word of mouth itself. He was going to have me one way or another. I'd rather save Rico and my father, I had to marry him at the end of the day anyways.
I knew it.
He knew it.
He had me just where he wanted.
His mouth roamed slowly down my throat, tasting the skin just below my jaw. His hand that was over the neckline of my dress, gripped the thin material.
"That's it." He breathed. "Obedience suits you so much, baby."
He thrusted against me, slow and firm— dry humping me through my satin gown like he wasn't going to ruin me for good. I shuddered in disgust, sniffing at the overbearing confusion that clouded my mind. I closed my eyes, no longer feeling anything.
"Still fighting me, aren't you?" his voice sounded too pleased.
"Go on. Hate me all you want. By the end of it we'd be on the best sensation one could ever feel. I'll give you a drug of ecstacy so high, you'd only beg for more. So, yes. Go on. Hate me all you want. I like that."
Rip.
The sound of my dress tearing apart filled the empty room.
Soon my bra and panties dropped beside my dress which pooled around my feet. I closed my eyes, refusing to give him the pleasure he sought.
He slid closer, inhaling my hair before trailing his finger gently down my cheek.
"Just as I thought you'd be—"
"Spread. Hm?" His words were more of a command as he parted my thigs with his knee.
"Ngh~"
I bit my lip to not scream at the sudden intrusion, face pressed into the wall. He knew I was virgin yet he checked, roughly shoving two fingers in while rubbing my clit with his thumb.
His fingers scratched my insides which were barely wet. Although the pressure on my clit gave me a sense of relief, I couldn't feel my breath.
"There, there. Just a little check to see if my cherry's still intact. Can't have someone else pop what's mine, right?"
I sniffled in disgust and slammed my heels. He grunted in pain and stumbled back, clutching his boot— there was a hole with smear of blood. Safe to say I'd done some damage. Usually, I wore broad heels— but Mother insisted on pointed pencil stellatoes today. Had I known this would happen, I would've thanked her.
That's when I looked around and realized— I was in Aunt Shiron's room. Which meant she was downstairs already, the birthday ceremony had probably started. Elders were always needed to open events, so no one would've noticed I was missing. I grabbed my gown from the floor and made a run for it while he was still hunched over, inspecting his foot.
"Agh—"
"And where do you think you're running off to, Bitch?"
He yanked me back by my waist, pressing my body flush against his chest. I opened my mouth to scream, but he shoved to fingers in it— the same one's he'd pushed in me.
"Suck." He murmured in my ear, his voice a threat in itself.
I'd heard in the underworld, most men talked with their dicks. But Alex? He was worse. A strategist and opportunist.
And in that moment, he wasn't just acting on lust. He was after something— control, proof, or maybe just sick satisfaction of owning me.
"Come on, be a good girl and suck. We have a deal, remember?"
I sucked his fingers, soft at first, but he pressed them harder against my tongue. Deeper until I gagged, choking slightly on the pressure.
His hand slid up from my waist, creeping beneath the curve of my breast. At the same time, his knee forcefully parted my thighs apart.
"Now that I know what an ingenue you are," he sneered. "Why don't you ride my thigh? Go on. Please me."
I shut my eyes, burning with humiliation. His fingers moved in and out my mouth while I tried not to cry, saliva pooling and trailing down my chin.
"And maybe I'll spare your little Ms. Rico.. Your father, too— Mr. Akira Himawari." He growled venom.
"Ah" I gasped.
"QUICK!"
He yanked his finger out and smacked my ass cheek. The sudden jerk from his smack shoved me roughly against his thigh. My head fell back at the sensation, landing on his shoulder, while my hips move involuntarily. The coarse fabric of his pants scraping me, with every desperate, humiliating grind of my hip.
"Not bad for a first timer baby~" He praised, looking down at me with his darkness as I scrunched my face, fighting a battle of pain and pleasure.
His head dipped and his mouth closed around my nipple. I froze— earning me another smack, forcing a jolt from my hips. I whined and grinded against him when he pulled at my nipple with his teeth. I hated that sound I made which I never did before. I hated the way he drew out such responses out of me.
My mind couldn't keep up. I could no longer understand what was happening to me. It was like I'd left myself behind was watching the scene unfold from somewhere else in the room. Powerless to stop it.
He fondled my breast with his rough palm like they were stress orbs, making me whimper. When he laughed, I wanted to disappear. Even worse, I felt the fabric of his pants grow damp beneath me— and I couldn't tell if it was a natural body reaction or my humiliating arousal. That confusion terrified me.
Although the fabric, now softened up by my wetness, still chaffed my skin as I grind my hips against his thigh. The ache spread through me so I slowed down my pace, hoping the pain would cease. But his hands moved to my waist, moving me without care, until I straddled his thigh, now facing him.
"Ngh— What the—" My hands instinctively flew to his shoulder, searching for balance. I hated the way he manhandled me.
"Who told you to slow down?" He snarled in my ear. "You aren't even wet enough to take me"
A finger pushed in me without warning, and I gasped . He pulled it out and sucked it clean.
"Hm... now that's a well- maintained lady." He hummed in satisfaction.
I looked at him stunned. Just how shameless was he?
"Get off." He said casually as if I was another whore he'd been spending time with. He pushed me off his lap and striped.
And all I could do was watch— body trembling, I wondered what else he had thought of doing to me. The wetness flowing down my thighs was already humiliating enough. I clenched them together, hating the way my body still throbbed, like it missed his thigh.
Disgusting.
The music blasted from downstairs as the world celebrated my father's birthday. Yet here I was— crawling my way to bed— while he lay on his back, stripped bare and motioned me closer to his face.
"뭘 기다려, 내 불같은 요녀야?" He teased in Korean, hands gripping my thighs.
(“What are you waiting for, my fiery vixen?”)
"아직도 망설여? 내 불같은 요녀가."
(“Still hesitating? My fiery little vixen.”)
"Don't worry" He whispered, smug. "I'll help you with that."
"Ngh~"
I flinched as he made me straddle his face. Writhing helplessly as he dragged me down without my say.
"N-no ... stop, Taehyung."
I gripped the sheets in front of me, knuckles white. His nose pressed to my cunt like he was savoring the scent. His hold was tight on my thighs as he didn't let me move away from his lips. I whimpered— not from want, but from the shame of my body's heat.
"Ah!"
I cried softly as his tongue licked a line through my slit, deliberately avoiding my aching clit. I knew what he was doing— drawing it out to tease, humiliating me. And the worst part? My hips began to twitch. Shame surged me through like fire.
He held my thighs tighter, forcing me to move, to grind. I wanted to disappear. I wanted to hide. Because the moment blurred— I couldn't tell if it was him forcing me or my hips riding his face on my own. By own will.
"Mmm—"
I let out a sound which I couldn't swallow fast enough as he wrapped his lips around my clit and sucked it, hard. His eyes darted up, staring up at me through my thighs, devouring me. I looked away. I couldn't meet that gaze— it wasn't just lust but power. I won't give him the pleasure of thinking he's got to me.
When I stopped making any sound as he continued his ministrations. I saw a flicker of frustration in his eyes. I liked that look in his eyes, feeling victorious.
But then he bit my clit— sharp, cold and humiliating.
"Ack—"
I cried out, and before I could stop it, my body spasmed. I came. Right there. Right on his tongue.
My thighs trembled and my stomach churned. And all I could do was close my eyes as he lapped me clean while humming, like I was some dessert But no one could deny I wasn't special. The untouched and most protected yakuza princess. Here he ate me in exchange of my father's life.
I didn't know what I hated more— his sinful mouth..... or the part of me that let go. I tried to pull away but his grip tightened around my thighs making me gasp from the over stimulation, humiliated all over again.
"Even though I'd love to make you return the favor—" He said as he grabbed my waist and lifted me up, finally letting me catch my breath. His lips shone with the proof of what he's done. What he had claimed. Rei Himawari— the once forbidden fruit, was now devoured by him. I looked away. I couldn't look at him— when he grinned at me with his cold stare piercing through his bangs.
"Don't sigh. We ain't done yet."
He flipped us, positioning himself between my legs.
"Since time's short....... we're gonna speed up instead."
Rip.
I didn't have to open my eyes to know. He was wearing a condom. Ofcourse he was. Even his cruelty was planned and calculated.
Then pain tore through me. A single merciless thrust and I screamed. There was no preparation or warning or pause. Just pure violence. I couldn't breath, feeling the aching burn between my legs. He didn't wait, thrusting immediately, hard and fast.
I dug my nails into the sheets, my palm, his bicep anything to ground myself. I stared at the ceiling so I wouldn't cry.
I closed my eyes in hope it'll all end soon. If I don't move, if I don't show anything that could make him feel better then he'd stop sooner.
He grunted on top, gripping the bed's headboard making it rattle in his hold. Like this wasn't cruelty but pleasure for him. It was like he was trying to claim my body The room filled with my screams of pain and his groans of pleasure.
“Still hesitating, babygirl? What’s stopping you from reblogging, liking, or following?”
This piece appears here as part of After Hours — a collection of fragments, excerpts, and moments written without restraint. This entry is taken from a longer work originally published on Wattpad and shared here as a stand-alone experience. It is intentionally unresolved, deliberately uncomfortable, and driven by power rather than romance.
It ends exactly where it’s meant to.
I’m still learning, still evolving — and this space exists so I can do that without apology. The more I write, the better it gets. If this stayed with you, feel free to leave a request. The original work is ongoing on Wattpad.
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(bratty spoiled rich girl • curvy/chubby reader • identity unknown to him at first)
🧷 𝐆𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞:
Smut • Dark Lust • Forbidden Encounter
Power Imbalance • Brat Taming • Non-Con / Dub-Con
🖤 𝐒𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠:
Upscale suburban mansion
Midnight • Moonlit bedroom
Balcony with glass doors • Sirens in the distance
💄 𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲:
Sirens wail in the distance as Taehyung flees a botched robbery, scaling balconies to escape.
He slips into what he thinks is an empty room only to find a spoiled princess asleep in floral pyjamas, whining about her blocked credit cards just hours earlier.
She’s curvy. Soft. Infuriatingly entitled.
And completely at his mercy.
One look at her plump lips and exposed thighs, and stealing cash isn’t enough anymore.
Tonight, the thief takes everything she has to givewhether she fights or not.
🩸 𝐊𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐬 & 𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐬:
✦ Rough sex (bedroom floor & balcony door)
✦ Brat taming
✦ Domination & degradation
✦ Power imbalance
✦ Risk of getting caught
✦ Forced submission & overstimulation
✦ Shame tangled with unwanted pleasure
✦ Thief × victim dynamic
✦ No aftercare • Morally gray desire
🚨 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬:
☠️ Explicit non-con / dub-con
☠️ Home invasion & theft
☠️ Strong domination & verbal humiliation
☠️ Rough handling
☠️ Choking • Spanking
☠️ Power imbalance
☠️ Dark themes
☠️ Reader described as curvy/chubby with body focus
❗ 𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐎𝐑𝐒 𝐃𝐍𝐈 | 𝟏𝟖+ 𝐎𝐍𝐋𝐘 ❗
Happy new year guys 🫦
Taehyung cursed under his breath as the distant wail of sirens pierced the night air, growing louder with each passing second. He'd just hit the jackpot slipping out of that grumpy old hag's mansion with a backpack stuffed full of cash, jewelry, and a couple of antique watches that would fetch a pretty penny on the black market. But the bitch had spotted him on his way out, her shrill scream alerting the neighborhood watch or some shit. He couldn't stick around. Heart pounding, he vaulted over fences, cutting through backyards until he found himself in a quieter part of the upscale suburb.
Spotting a row of townhouses with balconies overlooking the alley, he scaled the drainpipe like a shadow, landing lightly on the first one he reached. Through the glass doors, he peered inside: a couple snoring away in their king-sized bed, oblivious to the world. Easy pickings. He jimmied the lock with a practiced flick of his wrist, slipped in, and rifled through drawers and nightstands. More cash, a gold necklace, some diamond earrings nothing major, but it padded his haul. As he was about to slide back out, a faint noise from above caught his ear. Footsteps, pacing, a voice murmuring angrily.
Curiosity and the thrill of the risk pulled him up. He climbed the exterior wall, fingers gripping the ledge of the balcony above, pulling himself just high enough to peek through the sheer curtains. There she was: a spoiled little princess stomping around her bedroom, phone pressed to her ear, her voice a whiny tirade.
"I can't believe Dad just blocked all my cards because I got caught cheating on those stupid tests!" she huffed, her free hand gesturing wildly. "Like, it's not my fault the professor is a total asshole. Sera, what am I supposed to do now? Shop with what, my good looks?"
Taehyung's lips curled into a predatory smirk. She was a vision of entitlement curvy and soft in all the ways that screamed pampered luxury, her pale skin flushed with irritation under the lamp's glow. That floral top clung to her like a second skin, the lace edges teasing the deep plunge of her cleavage, and those tiny shorts hugged her hips, riding up with every angry step. Her loose hair swung wildly, framing those big green doe eyes that sparkled with bratty fire, and her plump pink lips, slick with gloss, twisted in a pout that made his cock stir. She was the kind of girl who got everything handed to her and tonight, he'd take it all back.
"Whatever, I'll call you back. I'm fucking tired," she snapped, hanging up and flopping onto the bed. She reached over, flicking off the lamp, plunging the room into darkness save for the faint moonlight filtering through the glass.
Taehyung waited, his breath controlled, muscles coiled like a predator. The sirens had faded into the distance false alarm, or maybe they were chasing shadows. He tested the balcony door; unlocked, the careless arrogance of the rich. Slipping inside silently, he crossed the room, eyes locked on her sleeping form. She was sprawled out, one leg dangling off the edge, her shorts twisted to expose the smooth curve of her thigh.
He should have just grabbed the valuables and bolted the purse on the dresser, the jewelry box glinting in the moonlight. But no. This little brat had ignited something darker in him. He dropped his backpack with a soft thud, stripping off his black hoodie to reveal his chiseled frame, the sleeveless tank stretched tight over his muscles, plaid shirt knotted at his waist, baggy pants low on his hips.
In a flash, he was on her his large hand clamping over her mouth, bodyweight pinning her down as her eyes snapped open in sheer terror. She bucked wildly, muffled screams vibrating against his palm, her green eyes bulging with shock.
"Shut the fuck up, you spoiled little whore," he snarled, his voice a low, commanding rumble that brooked no argument. His free hand gripped both her wrists, slamming them above her head against the headboard. "I heard your pathetic whining on the phone. Daddy cut you off? Boo-fucking-hoo. Tonight, you're gonna learn what happens when a real man takes control."
Y/n thrashed beneath him, her curvy body writhing in futile resistance, but he was unyielding, his knee forcing her thighs apart with brutal efficiency. "Name. Now," he demanded, easing his hand just enough for her to speak, ready to clamp back down.
" y- y/n," she gasped, her voice trembling but edged with defiance. "Get off me, you fucking creep! My dad will ruin you—"
"Your dad?" Taehyung laughed, a dark, mocking sound that sent chills down her spine. "That spineless prick who lets his bratty daughter cheat her way through life? He can't save you now. You're mine to break." He slapped her thigh sharply, the sting making her yelp. "And you're gonna take it like the desperate slut you are."
She spat at him, missing but earning a harder grip on her wrists, his fingers digging in. "Fuck you! I'll scream—"
"Scream, and I'll choke you with my cock until you pass out," he growled, his face inches from hers, breath hot against her ear. "But I think deep down, you want this. A worthless princess like you needs to be put in her place."
He ripped her floral top open with one savage yank, buttons scattering across the bed as her full breasts bounced free, nipples pebbling in the cool air. No bra the entitled bitch probably thought she was untouchable. He latched onto one with his mouth, sucking hard, teeth grazing the sensitive peak until she arched despite herself. "Look at you, already squirming. Pathetic."
Y/n whimpered, trying to twist away, but his hand slid down, shoving roughly into her shorts. His fingers found her pussy slick and hot, betraying her. "Fucking drenched. You act all high and mighty, but your cunt's begging for a thief to own it."
"N-no—stop, you bastard!" she hissed, but her hips bucked involuntarily as he plunged two fingers inside, curling them viciously against her walls.
"Liar. Feel that? That's your body submitting." He pumped harder, thumb grinding her clit in punishing circles. "Gonna degrade this bratty hole until you're nothing but a whimpering mess."
He withdrew his fingers, slick with her arousal, and forced them between her plump lips. "Suck. Taste how much of a needy whore you are." She gagged, trying to bite, but he pressed deeper, fucking her mouth with his digits. "Bite, and I'll make you regret it. Good girls obey."
Yanking them out, he flipped her onto her stomach like a ragdoll, pinning her arms behind her back. He yanked her shorts down, exposing her ass, and brought his palm down in a series of brutal spanks each one echoing, her skin reddening under his assault. "This is for your entitled bullshit." Smack. "For thinking you're better than everyone." Smack. "For getting wet for a stranger who could ruin you." He didn't stop until she was sobbing into the pillow, her body trembling, pussy dripping obscenely.
"P-please... it hurts..." she whined, her voice breaking.
"Not enough, princess. Not until you beg properly." He spread her cheeks wide, spitting directly onto her exposed holes before shoving three fingers into her cunt, stretching her roughly. "Tight little slut. Bet no one's ever handled you like this—too busy kissing your ass."
Y/n moaned, pushing back despite her protests, her defiance cracking. "I hate you—ah!"
"Hate me all you want, but your pussy loves it." He finger-fucked her relentlessly, free hand wrapping around her throat from behind, squeezing just enough to make her gasp. "Say it. Say you're a spoiled whore who needs to be tamed."
"F-fuck... you..." she choked out, but her walls clenched around him, betraying her.
"Wrong answer." He pulled out, leaving her empty and aching, then shoved her onto her back. Dropping his pants, his massive cock sprang free—thick, veined, throbbing with need. Y/n's eyes widened in horror and hunger.
"That's too big— it'll tear me—"
"It'll break you, just like you deserve." He grabbed her hair, dragging her head to his groin. "Open that bratty mouth. Worship the cock that's gonna own you."
She resisted, lips sealed, but he slapped his length against her cheek, smearing precum. "Open, or I'll force it down your throat dry." Reluctantly, her plump lips parted, and he thrust in, filling her mouth until she gagged, tears streaming.
"That's it, choke on it, you worthless bitch." He fucked her face with dominating strokes, holding her head still. "All that lip gloss just for sucking dick like a pro. Deeper—take it all." Her throat bulged, saliva drooling down her chin onto her heaving breasts as he used her mercilessly. "Good little cocksucker. Learning to submit already?"
He pulled out, strings of spit connecting them, and shoved her legs apart wider than before. "Spread for me, slut. Show me that greedy cunt."
Y/n shook her head, but her thighs trembled open. "Please... be gentle..."
"Gentle? For a brat like you? No." He rubbed his cock through her folds, teasing, then slammed in raw bottoming out in one brutal thrust. She screamed, but he muffled it with his hand, pounding into her with savage intensity. "Feel that? That's me claiming what's mine. Your daddy's money can't buy you out of this."
Her nails raked his arms, but he pinned her harder, hips snapping relentlessly, each thrust hitting her cervix. "Fight all you want makes it tighter. Cum for me, whore. Show me you're broken."
She clawed at his back, moans escaping despite her brattiness. "H-harder... you asshole..."
She shattered around him, her orgasm ripping through her as she wailed, pussy squirting over his cock. "Oh god—yes—fuck!"
Taehyung didn't relent, flipping her onto all fours, yanking her hair like reins. "Not done. Gonna breed this bratty cunt." He railed her from behind, spanking her ass between thrusts, hand choking her throat. "Beg for my cum, princess. Beg like the degraded slut you are."
"P-please... cum inside me... tame me..." she sobbed, finally breaking.
With a roar, he exploded, flooding her with hot seed, marking her deep. He pulled out, watching it drip, then slapped her ass one last time. "Good girl. Now, tell me where the safe is. We're not finished taking from you yet."
Y/n collapsed, utterly tamed, her body spent and mind shattered under his dominance.
(bratty spoiled rich girl • curvy/chubby reader • identity unknown to him at first)
🧷 𝐆𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞:
Smut • Dark Lust • Forbidden Encounter
Power Imbalance • Brat Taming • Non-Con / Dub-Con
🖤 𝐒𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠:
Upscale suburban mansion
Midnight • Moonlit bedroom
Balcony with glass doors • Sirens in the distance
💄 𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲:
Sirens wail in the distance as Taehyung flees a botched robbery, scaling balconies to escape.
He slips into what he thinks is an empty room only to find a spoiled princess asleep in floral pyjamas, whining about her blocked credit cards just hours earlier.
She’s curvy. Soft. Infuriatingly entitled.
And completely at his mercy.
One look at her plump lips and exposed thighs, and stealing cash isn’t enough anymore.
Tonight, the thief takes everything she has to givewhether she fights or not.
🩸 𝐊𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐬 & 𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐬:
✦ Rough sex (bedroom floor & balcony door)
✦ Brat taming
✦ Domination & degradation
✦ Power imbalance
✦ Risk of getting caught
✦ Forced submission & overstimulation
✦ Shame tangled with unwanted pleasure
✦ Thief × victim dynamic
✦ No aftercare • Morally gray desire
🚨 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬:
☠️ Explicit non-con / dub-con
☠️ Home invasion & theft
☠️ Strong domination & verbal humiliation
☠️ Rough handling
☠️ Choking • Spanking
☠️ Power imbalance
☠️ Dark themes
☠️ Reader described as curvy/chubby with body focus
❗ 𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐎𝐑𝐒 𝐃𝐍𝐈 | 𝟏𝟖+ 𝐎𝐍𝐋𝐘 ❗
Happy new year guys 🫦
Taehyung cursed under his breath as the distant wail of sirens pierced the night air, growing louder with each passing second. He'd just hit the jackpot slipping out of that grumpy old hag's mansion with a backpack stuffed full of cash, jewelry, and a couple of antique watches that would fetch a pretty penny on the black market. But the bitch had spotted him on his way out, her shrill scream alerting the neighborhood watch or some shit. He couldn't stick around. Heart pounding, he vaulted over fences, cutting through backyards until he found himself in a quieter part of the upscale suburb.
Spotting a row of townhouses with balconies overlooking the alley, he scaled the drainpipe like a shadow, landing lightly on the first one he reached. Through the glass doors, he peered inside: a couple snoring away in their king-sized bed, oblivious to the world. Easy pickings. He jimmied the lock with a practiced flick of his wrist, slipped in, and rifled through drawers and nightstands. More cash, a gold necklace, some diamond earrings nothing major, but it padded his haul. As he was about to slide back out, a faint noise from above caught his ear. Footsteps, pacing, a voice murmuring angrily.
Curiosity and the thrill of the risk pulled him up. He climbed the exterior wall, fingers gripping the ledge of the balcony above, pulling himself just high enough to peek through the sheer curtains. There she was: a spoiled little princess stomping around her bedroom, phone pressed to her ear, her voice a whiny tirade.
"I can't believe Dad just blocked all my cards because I got caught cheating on those stupid tests!" she huffed, her free hand gesturing wildly. "Like, it's not my fault the professor is a total asshole. Sera, what am I supposed to do now? Shop with what, my good looks?"
Taehyung's lips curled into a predatory smirk. She was a vision of entitlement curvy and soft in all the ways that screamed pampered luxury, her pale skin flushed with irritation under the lamp's glow. That floral top clung to her like a second skin, the lace edges teasing the deep plunge of her cleavage, and those tiny shorts hugged her hips, riding up with every angry step. Her loose hair swung wildly, framing those big green doe eyes that sparkled with bratty fire, and her plump pink lips, slick with gloss, twisted in a pout that made his cock stir. She was the kind of girl who got everything handed to her and tonight, he'd take it all back.
"Whatever, I'll call you back. I'm fucking tired," she snapped, hanging up and flopping onto the bed. She reached over, flicking off the lamp, plunging the room into darkness save for the faint moonlight filtering through the glass.
Taehyung waited, his breath controlled, muscles coiled like a predator. The sirens had faded into the distance false alarm, or maybe they were chasing shadows. He tested the balcony door; unlocked, the careless arrogance of the rich. Slipping inside silently, he crossed the room, eyes locked on her sleeping form. She was sprawled out, one leg dangling off the edge, her shorts twisted to expose the smooth curve of her thigh.
He should have just grabbed the valuables and bolted the purse on the dresser, the jewelry box glinting in the moonlight. But no. This little brat had ignited something darker in him. He dropped his backpack with a soft thud, stripping off his black hoodie to reveal his chiseled frame, the sleeveless tank stretched tight over his muscles, plaid shirt knotted at his waist, baggy pants low on his hips.
In a flash, he was on her his large hand clamping over her mouth, bodyweight pinning her down as her eyes snapped open in sheer terror. She bucked wildly, muffled screams vibrating against his palm, her green eyes bulging with shock.
"Shut the fuck up, you spoiled little whore," he snarled, his voice a low, commanding rumble that brooked no argument. His free hand gripped both her wrists, slamming them above her head against the headboard. "I heard your pathetic whining on the phone. Daddy cut you off? Boo-fucking-hoo. Tonight, you're gonna learn what happens when a real man takes control."
Y/n thrashed beneath him, her curvy body writhing in futile resistance, but he was unyielding, his knee forcing her thighs apart with brutal efficiency. "Name. Now," he demanded, easing his hand just enough for her to speak, ready to clamp back down.
" y- y/n," she gasped, her voice trembling but edged with defiance. "Get off me, you fucking creep! My dad will ruin you—"
"Your dad?" Taehyung laughed, a dark, mocking sound that sent chills down her spine. "That spineless prick who lets his bratty daughter cheat her way through life? He can't save you now. You're mine to break." He slapped her thigh sharply, the sting making her yelp. "And you're gonna take it like the desperate slut you are."
She spat at him, missing but earning a harder grip on her wrists, his fingers digging in. "Fuck you! I'll scream—"
"Scream, and I'll choke you with my cock until you pass out," he growled, his face inches from hers, breath hot against her ear. "But I think deep down, you want this. A worthless princess like you needs to be put in her place."
He ripped her floral top open with one savage yank, buttons scattering across the bed as her full breasts bounced free, nipples pebbling in the cool air. No bra the entitled bitch probably thought she was untouchable. He latched onto one with his mouth, sucking hard, teeth grazing the sensitive peak until she arched despite herself. "Look at you, already squirming. Pathetic."
Y/n whimpered, trying to twist away, but his hand slid down, shoving roughly into her shorts. His fingers found her pussy slick and hot, betraying her. "Fucking drenched. You act all high and mighty, but your cunt's begging for a thief to own it."
"N-no—stop, you bastard!" she hissed, but her hips bucked involuntarily as he plunged two fingers inside, curling them viciously against her walls.
"Liar. Feel that? That's your body submitting." He pumped harder, thumb grinding her clit in punishing circles. "Gonna degrade this bratty hole until you're nothing but a whimpering mess."
He withdrew his fingers, slick with her arousal, and forced them between her plump lips. "Suck. Taste how much of a needy whore you are." She gagged, trying to bite, but he pressed deeper, fucking her mouth with his digits. "Bite, and I'll make you regret it. Good girls obey."
Yanking them out, he flipped her onto her stomach like a ragdoll, pinning her arms behind her back. He yanked her shorts down, exposing her ass, and brought his palm down in a series of brutal spanks each one echoing, her skin reddening under his assault. "This is for your entitled bullshit." Smack. "For thinking you're better than everyone." Smack. "For getting wet for a stranger who could ruin you." He didn't stop until she was sobbing into the pillow, her body trembling, pussy dripping obscenely.
"P-please... it hurts..." she whined, her voice breaking.
"Not enough, princess. Not until you beg properly." He spread her cheeks wide, spitting directly onto her exposed holes before shoving three fingers into her cunt, stretching her roughly. "Tight little slut. Bet no one's ever handled you like this—too busy kissing your ass."
Y/n moaned, pushing back despite her protests, her defiance cracking. "I hate you—ah!"
"Hate me all you want, but your pussy loves it." He finger-fucked her relentlessly, free hand wrapping around her throat from behind, squeezing just enough to make her gasp. "Say it. Say you're a spoiled whore who needs to be tamed."
"F-fuck... you..." she choked out, but her walls clenched around him, betraying her.
"Wrong answer." He pulled out, leaving her empty and aching, then shoved her onto her back. Dropping his pants, his massive cock sprang free thick, veined, throbbing with need. Y/n's eyes widened in horror and hunger.
"That's too big— it'll tear me—"
"It'll break you, just like you deserve." He grabbed her hair, dragging her head to his groin. "Open that bratty mouth. Worship the cock that's gonna own you."
She resisted, lips sealed, but he slapped his length against her cheek, smearing precum. "Open, or I'll force it down your throat dry." Reluctantly, her plump lips parted, and he thrust in, filling her mouth until she gagged, tears streaming.
"That's it, choke on it, you worthless bitch." He fucked her face with dominating strokes, holding her head still. "All that lip gloss just for sucking dick like a pro. Deeper—take it all." Her throat bulged, saliva drooling down her chin onto her heaving breasts as he used her mercilessly. "Good little cocksucker. Learning to submit already?"
He pulled out, strings of spit connecting them, and shoved her legs apart wider than before. "Spread for me, slut. Show me that greedy cunt."
Y/n shook her head, but her thighs trembled open. "Please... be gentle..."
"Gentle? For a brat like you? No." He rubbed his cock through her folds, teasing, then slammed in raw bottoming out in one brutal thrust. She screamed, but he muffled it with his hand, pounding into her with savage intensity. "Feel that? That's me claiming what's mine. Your daddy's money can't buy you out of this."
Her nails raked his arms, but he pinned her harder, hips snapping relentlessly, each thrust hitting her cervix. "Fight all you want makes it tighter. Cum for me, whore. Show me you're broken."
She clawed at his back, moans escaping despite her brattiness. "H-harder... you asshole..."
She shattered around him, her orgasm ripping through her as she wailed, pussy squirting over his cock. "Oh god—yes—fuck!"
Taehyung didn't relent, flipping her onto all fours, yanking her hair like reins. "Not done. Gonna breed this bratty cunt." He railed her from behind, spanking her ass between thrusts, hand choking her throat. "Beg for my cum, princess. Beg like the degraded slut you are."
"P-please... cum inside me... tame me..." she sobbed, finally breaking.
With a roar, he exploded, flooding her with hot seed, marking her deep. He pulled out, watching it drip, then slapped her ass one last time. "Good girl. Now, tell me where the safe is. We're not finished taking from you yet."
Y/n collapsed, utterly tamed, her body spent and mind shattered under his dominance.
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reader is not comfortable taking showers/baths with her s/o but he somehow convinces you to take a shower with him so he can pamper you. (this is gonna be pretty short) a lil angsty but mostly fluff and a lil lemon 🍋, not smut
“are u sure?”
“never been so sure of anything in my life, cmon, ill undress you”
he walks towards you and looks to your face to make sure you’re comfortable with him touching you
you nod and he continues
he slowly peels your black long sleeve shirt up
he tells you to put ur arms up and you obey
he gently drops the shirt and ur left in your pj pants and bra
he slowly bends down to pull your pants down along with your panties
along the way he plants kisses all over your stomach and thighs
your breathe shuttering and your hands sweaty and twitchy
you couldnt help but feel loved….
he comes back up to his full height and he gets closer to your face
u thought he was going in for a kiss but then you feel your bra loosen and his hand on ur lower back
you release a big breathe
he smirks as he sees you become flustered due to the lack of space between you two
he sees a single bead of sweat on your forehead and how u opened your mouth to lick ur lips
“what about ur clothes?” u ask while subconsciously covering yourself
he comes closer to hold ur hands
“whats that for? i want to see ur body.”
you take a deep breathe and let your hands come down to your sides
“better, just the way i like it”
he quickly gets undressed
you look away, not used to seeing his body
ofc you have seen him shirtless, but never this bare
you didnt know what to think
its suddenly quiet and you look over and see him fully naked just staring at you
“what?”
“nothing, just…. you look so beautiful. i cant control myself around you”
“how bout we just take that shower….”
you nervously walk past quickly while looking down flustered
you feel his stare burning into ur whole body
he looks you up and down at you with a smile and begins following you into the bathroom
you start the shower but start backing up and accidentally bump into him
“whats wrong?”
“i-i dont know. i thought i could do th-“
he cups your face with his large hands and has you looking up at him
“you can, i’m right here”
you ease into his touch and close your eyes
you remove his hands from your face slowly and turn around to get into the now warm shower
so warm, the mirror is starting to fog up
he joins you
he grabs your purple loofa and your baby powder body wash
he lets the body wash lather into the loofa
he pulls you close to start washing your chest
he begins to wash under your boobs, and starts to flick ur nipples, but it starts to get repetitive and u give him a stare
“just making sure theyre clean, love” he smiles while u roll ur eyes jokingly
he begins to wash under ur arms and shoulders
kissing the stretch marks and acne spots u were so insecure about on ur shoulders
you shutter not being used to physical contact
he turns you around to wash everything else, but not without kissing the back of your neck and all over your back and legs
timeskip…..
in ur comfiest pajamas, he picked and dressed you in
ur warm, laying in his arms, head on his chest, hearing his heart beating fast because of the you that is in his arms, so oblivious to how in love he is with you….
whaddya think? this is my second fanfic on here i think. kinda got random inspiration from nowhere and just started writing when i got out the shower 😭
hope you guys like it and enjoyed reading this lil story
Summary: You thought you could say no. You thought you could stay untouchable. But Kim Taehyung doesn’t take no for an answer. As your life unravels, you finds yourself drawn into his world, trembling, vulnerable, and exactly where he always wanted you—helpless, obedient, on his cock and wanting more than you ever imagined. He wasn't what he showed to his fans.
Content Warning: This one-shot contains extremely dark themes including manipulative sex, blackmail, recorded intimacy, gaslighting, humiliation, and non-consensual elements (dub-con). Graphic depictions of sex are included (oral sex, bathtub sex, breathplay, rough penetration, overstimulation, fingering, dirty talk). Taehyung is portrayed as controlling, degrading, emotionally abusive, and an absolute asshole throughout. Reader is shown vulnerable, crying, breaking down under his manipulation. Mentions of obsession, revenge, and power imbalance. Read at your own discretion.
You woke up the next morning—sore, raw, every muscle stiff like you’d been dragged through hell and left there. The satin sheet clung to your damp skin as you clawed it up against your bare chest. Cold fabric against heat. Cold comfort against shame.
And then it came back—last night. His words, his hands, the way he split through your pleas until “no” sounded like a joke in your own mouth. You could still hear him, like he was whispering inside your skull.
Your eyes snapped up. The ceiling. That red dot. That little glowing parasite recording everything—your tears, your shaking, your voice breaking. But it was gone.
Your chest rose in short, panicked pulls of air. Relief? No. It was worse. If it wasn’t on the ceiling, it meant he had it now. Safe. In his pocket. Proof.
“Looking for this?”
The voice cut through the silence like a blade.
Taehyung leaned in the doorway, hair damp from a shower, towel slung lazy at his hips. His phone dangled from his fingers. Screen black, camera lens staring at you like another eye.
You shrank back into the headboard, clinging harder to the sheets. His mouth curved, but it wasn’t a smile—it was that calm, satisfied cruelty that scared you more than his temper.
“Relax,” he murmured, stepping closer, bare feet silent on the floor. “I already saved it. Every second of you breaking apart. It’s mine now.”
Your throat tightened. “Delete it.”
He cocked his head. “Delete you? That’s all it is, isn’t it? Your no, your tears, your trembling little body pixels on a screen. But I like it better in person.”
He dropped the phone onto the nightstand with a sharp thud. Then his towel slipped, careless, like he didn’t even notice.
Before you could breathe, he was climbing onto the bed, braced on either side of your body. Sheets ripped from your hands in one impatient tug.
“Stop—” your voice cracked.
His mouth ghosted over your ear. “Why? You’re already mine on film. Do you think your words matter now?”
He pressed his hips down, hard enough to drag a broken gasp from your throat. His chuckle was low, soft, like he was savoring it.
“That sound right there,” he whispered, pushing against you with lazy rolls of his hips, “I could replay it forever. You — saying no, and still sounding like this. Perfect contradiction.”
Your nails dug into his shoulders but he didn’t flinch. Instead, he caught your wrists, pinning them flat above your head.
“You’ll remember this as the morning you stopped fighting. Because what’s left for you to say?” His breath was hot against your lips now. “No? You’ve worn it out. Say it again, I’ll just fuck you until it turns into a yes.”
You palmed his chest, weak and trembling, trying to create distance where there was none. “Did you— did you do it? You’re taking revenge ‘cause I rejected you?” The words slipped out, soft and strangled, like your throat wasn’t built to carry them.
He stilled for a beat, eyes fixed on your lips as if he was listening more to your brokenness than the words themselves. And god — he fucking loved it.
Taehyung, the man whose name could tilt entire industries, who had the world wrapped around his finger. One press of his tongue online and millions would chant his name. He had money, power, an army of fans frothing to worship him.
And you? You were nothing. A nameless girl in his bed, stripped bare, no proof of innocence left except the word that already meant nothing to him.
He tilted his head at you like a man half-curious, half-bored. That look—predator studying prey already caught in its teeth. His palm pressed into your hip, thumb circling idly like he was so at ease despite your trembling.
“Revenge?” he repeated, as if rolling the word on his tongue. “Is that what you tell yourself, baby? That I care enough to waste revenge on someone as small as you?” His hand squeezed, hard enough to make your ribs ache. “This isn’t revenge. This is inevitability.”
You shook your head, a sob clawing free, but he smiled faintly, watching the way your lips trembled around the sound. His thumb traced your bottom lip, smearing the wetness that leaked down your chin.
“Cry prettier,” he murmured. “If you’re going to cry in my bed, at least make it something worth replaying.”
The words burned like acid. Your vision blurred, your body shaking as he dragged you closer against his chest. He smelled like soap, mint, and something darker — power itself.
“You think the world cares about your no? If I uploaded that video right now, do you know what they’d say?” His voice dropped lower, colder, his breath sliding against the shell of your ear. “They’d call you lucky. They’d call you mine. They’d say you begged for it.”
Your stomach twisted, bile and terror knotting together. You tried to push his chest, weakly, but he caught your wrists again, pinning them with one hand above your head like you weighed nothing.
“You’re still fighting,” he said softly, eyes gleaming. “That’s what I love about you. Do you know how long you’ll last? A week? A month? Before you stop saying no at all?”
He pressed his forehead against yours, breath hot and steady. “You’ll break. And when you do, you’ll call it love.”
Your chest heaved, another sob tearing out, but he hushed you, pressing a finger to your lips.
“Shhh. Save your voice. You’re going to need it.”
He kissed you then not soft, not tender, but slow, deep, unrelenting. Like he was branding the taste of himself into your lungs. And when he pulled back, your lip stung from the drag of his teeth.
“You’re shaking,” he said, voice faintly amused. “God, I could live off this.” His fingers slid down your stomach, possessive, inevitable. “Morning’s barely started, and you’re already mine again.”
Taehyung’s mouth brushed your lips in the barest peck, like you were his lover instead of his prisoner. Like last night had been a shared secret rather than a theft. Then he stood, moving with that lazy grace that made it seem as if the world bent itself around him. He tugged his trousers on, low on his hips, the waistband slung in a way that made the lines of his body look like temptation carved into stone.
Your voice cracked the silence. “Delete it.”
It came out softer than you meant. A plea, not a demand. You hated how pathetic it sounded, how your chest caved around the word.
He froze only for a beat, then chuckled, dragging his fingers through damp hair. The sound was rich, amused, dangerous.
“Delete it?” He turned slowly, as though tasting the absurdity. “Sweetheart, I renamed the file.”
Your blood iced.
He stepped back to the nightstand, picked up his phone, and tapped the screen with lazy precision. “Want to hear the new title?” His eyes met yours — gleaming, cruel. “No Means Nothing.”
The sob cracked loose in your throat before you could stop it. He smirked, thumbing through the device like it was a toy.
“I could upload it in a second. Millions would eat it alive.” He set the phone down again, deliberate, as if to taunt you with how close it was. “Your voice shaking, your tears shining down your cheeks… it’s beautiful. You think anyone would care that you said no? They’ll just see how you opened for me anyway.”
You pressed your palms to your face, muffling a broken sound. He crouched by the edge of the bed, prying your hands down gently, forcing you to meet his gaze.
“Look at me,” he whispered. When you did, he tilted his head, mock pity in his smile. “You still think you have a choice in this. You don’t. The file exists. I exist. That’s all that matters.”
He kissed your wrist, soft, mocking. “And the sooner you understand that, the easier it’ll be for you.”
Your chest heaved, air strangling in your throat.
He rose, towering over you again, buttoning the top of his trousers but leaving them low, like he knew exactly what he was doing to you. “Now stop asking me to delete it. It’s never going anywhere. Just like you.”
“I'm waiting downstairs, come quickly. Wear my shirt or bathrob.” Taehyung spoke and went outside. And the cry left your mouth that has been trying to get out.
The kitchen smelled faintly of coffee and toast when you finally dragged yourself out of the bedroom. Satin robe clutched tight around your body, legs weak from the night, every step feeling borrowed.
Taehyung was already there. Barefoot, shirtless, leaning against the counter with a mug in hand like this was just another morning after a lover’s night. Steam curled up past his face as he scrolled his phone lazily.
He glanced up when he heard you. “Sit.” No smile. No bite. Just command disguised as courtesy.
Your stomach twisted. Still, you slid into the chair at the counter. A plate was waiting for you — eggs, fruit, toast — like some twisted parody of care. Your fingers curled tight around your robe. You couldn’t eat.
Taehyung set his mug down, and then he did it — turned his phone toward you. The screen lit up with a grainy image: your own face, mouth trembling, eyes wet, the sound of your broken “no” faint but clear. His hips slammed into you on screen. Your sob cracked out again, muffled by your hands.
The sex video of them.
He didn’t even watch it. He just took a bite of toast. “Pretty, isn’t it?” he said around the chew, like it was small talk. “I keep replaying the way you begged. Never gets old.”
Your body locked. Your throat burned.
He smirked, finally glancing at the clip himself, his thumb casually dragging it back to replay the moment you cried out. “This part—ah, it kills me every time.” His eyes flicked up to yours. “Don’t you think you look beautiful here?”
The coffee steam curled between you like nothing was wrong. He sipped, calm, while the sound of your own rejection echoed from his phone again.
He took another bite of toast, still scrolling back and forth through the clip. The obscene sound of skin slapping echoed from his phone, your own ragged whimpering layered over it. He didn’t even flinch.
“You hear that?” Taehyung leaned forward, phone angled just enough for you to see yourself writhing. “That’s your pussy talking louder than your mouth. She was begging for me even when you weren’t.”
Your throat tightened. He chuckled low.
“Pathetic little thing. You cry, you say no, and yet look at you—” he tapped the screen right as the video caught the moment your back arched, your broken moan spilling out, “—you’re dripping all over my cock. Do you know what I see when I watch this? A whore who says no but takes me deeper every single time.”
Heat flamed in your face, shame crawling under your skin. He licked a crumb from his thumb slowly, deliberately.
“You’re so easy to break. One push, and suddenly you’re screaming my name with tears down your cheeks. Fuck, it’s gorgeous. Do you know how hard I get watching you ruin yourself like that?”
The clip looped again. He turned the volume higher this time, just enough to drown out your soft sobs at the counter. Your own voice filled the kitchen: “stop… no…” followed by a strangled cry.
Taehyung’s eyes darkened. He set the toast down, leaned closer across the counter, and whispered, “Say no again for me right now. Go on.”
You froze.
He smirked. “Because I promise, love—every time you do, my cock gets harder. And you know what that means? You’re about to end up face-down on this counter with me splitting you open before breakfast is even finished.”
He brushed his thumb over your lip, then pressed it down against your tongue until you had no choice but to let him slide inside your mouth.
“Good girl. Now suck it. Pretend it’s my cock. Maybe I’ll take you back to bed if you do it properly.”
Your words came out thin, strangled, your throat too raw to carry them. “S-so you planned all this? My whole life… ruining me? Making everyone hate me? Those rumors—” you couldn’t breathe, couldn’t stop. “You did that?”
His brows lifted slightly, almost amused, like a cat watching a mouse beg for the trap to let go.
“I was so wrong about you,” you choked, the admission sour on your tongue. Tears blurred your vision, your voice breaking apart. “You’re evil. Your fans people should know what kind of person you are behind the camera.”
A sniffle escaped, soft and pathetic, and that’s what finally pulled the laugh out of him. Low, rich, cutting.
“Evil?” he repeated, like he was tasting the word. He leaned back against the counter, phone still glowing in his hand with your body on loop. “Baby, that’s just branding. Off-stage, on-stage, in this kitchen—every version of me is real. You’re the only one who gets the one that fucks you like this.”
He pushed the phone toward you again, freezing the video at your tear-streaked face. “Look at you. Do you really think anyone would pity that? They’d envy it. They’d scream my name for doing it. That’s the joke, sweetheart—you can tell the world, and they’ll still cheer for me. Not you.”
His voice dropped darker, closer, like smoke curling into your lungs. “You think your truth matters? My fans will eat you alive before they ever believe you. And I’ll watch. I’ll watch you drown while they call me a saint.”
He stepped closer, crouching to your level, brushing his thumb across your damp cheek. “You call me evil like it’s supposed to hurt. But I’m not ashamed of it.” His eyes glinted. “I fucking thrive on it.”
Then, quieter, almost intimate: “You’ll learn too. Evil feels good when you stop fighting it. You’ll see.”
“I’m going home.” You whispered, clutching the hem of his oversized shirt like it could shield you from the weight in your chest.
Taehyung didn’t even look up at first. He bit into his toast, chewing lazily, his eyes fixed on the phone propped against his mug. Your bare body flashed across the screen again—your voice begging, breaking—before he swiped it away like it was just another notification.
“You go out of this house—” he paused, licking a smear of jam from his thumb, “—and I’ll release the tape.”
Your stomach lurched. He said it so casually. Like he wasn’t holding your entire life in his palm, like it was just another business decision.
“You… you can’t just do that.” Your voice trembled, gulping softly to keep yourself steady. “You can’t—”
“Oh, sweetheart.” He finally stood, pushing his chair back with a scrape, that same relaxed calm dripping off of him. He walked toward you slowly, deliberately, as if savoring each step.
And when he reached you—he didn’t grab, didn’t snarl. No. He leaned down, his lips brushing yours with a teasing kiss, letting you taste the sweet stickiness of jam. The softness almost mocked you.
“I just did.” He whispered against your lips, his tone low, casual—final.
The words sank into your chest like a knife.
He pulled back only slightly, smirking as his thumb traced your bottom lip. “Don’t pout, baby. I’m giving you a choice. Stay here and be mine… or leave, and I’ll make sure the whole world sees you on your knees for me.”
His eyes narrowed, cruel amusement glimmering there. “Tell me — which option do you think the world will believe fits you better?”
Your throat burned. The toast, the jam, the phone—it all blurred until you could barely breathe.
Taehyung leaned back against the table, picking up his mug like he had all the time in the world. He sipped, watching you squirm, his eyes cold but hungry.
“Come here,” he said simply.
You didn’t move. Not until he lifted his phone again, thumb hovering over the screen.
Your bare feet dragged across the floor as you stepped closer, clutching the fabric of his shirt tighter around you.
Taehyung chuckled, setting his coffee down. His hand slipped beneath the shirt, palm warm and rough against your hip. “You think anyone will care that you said no?” he murmured, his breath brushing your ear. “All they’ll see is how wet you got. All they’ll hear is you begging me to keep going.”
He slid the shirt higher, baring you slowly, savoring the sight of you trembling in his kitchen.
“Sit,” he ordered, tapping the table beside his plate.
You shook your head, whispering, “No…”
“Wrong answer.” He smirked, pressing a quick kiss to your jaw before showing you the screen—your own moans playing, your own body shaking on film.
Shame ripped through you. And still, your legs moved. You sat on the edge of the table, the wood cold against your skin.
“Good girl,” he drawled, spreading your thighs with one hand while picking up his toast with the other. He bit into it, eyes flicking up to meet yours. “Breakfast tastes better when I eat between your legs, don’t you think?”
He set the toast aside, leaning down until his lips ghosted your inner thigh. His tongue licked a stray smear of jam from his thumb before smearing the sweetness against your skin.
“I wonder,” he murmured, eyes dark, “how sweet you’ll taste with it dripping down your pussy.”
Taehyung gathered you up like you weighed nothing, setting you on the counter desk with a dull thud. The cool marble bit into your thighs, but his body pressed in, trapping you there.
“I’ll eat you out until you scream sorry for rejecting me.” His voice was honeyed, sweet on the surface, but soaked in poison underneath.
Another tear rolled down your cheek, slipping to your jaw. “I had a right to reject you,” you whispered, voice trembling.
His head tilted, boxy smile breaking across his face — the smile plastered on billboards, the one that made strangers sob and faint. Except up close, it didn’t feel holy. It felt like hell.
“Yeah?” he whispered back, eyes flashing as his thumb wiped your tear. “And I have the right to fuck you.”
Your stomach knotted, shame and heat tangling until you couldn’t tell them apart.
He tugged the shirt off your shoulders, letting it fall open, baring your chest to the cool kitchen air. “Look at you, shivering already.” He licked his bottom lip, gaze dragging over every inch of you. “Say it again. Tell me you had a right.”
When you opened your mouth, his hand closed around your throat—gentle enough not to cut off your air, but tight enough that your words cracked.
“I… I had a right—”
His smile widened, cruel satisfaction glittering. “Exactly. And I had the right to film you choking on my cock.” His tone stayed calm, conversational, as if he was still talking about jam and toast.
He kissed you hard, biting your lower lip before pulling back to breathe against your mouth. “You thought your ‘no’ meant something. But what’s stronger, baby? A word, or the proof of how much you begged me to keep going?”
He pushed your legs wider, his teeth scraping your jaw as he murmured, “I’ll make you regret every single letter of that no.”
His grip on your throat loosened only to trail down, thumb pressing into the hollow of your collarbone. Then he crouched low, his breath ghosting over the inside of your thigh.
Your knees trembled when his hands pried them apart further, forcing you wide for him. He smirked at the sight, like a man staring at a feast laid just for him.
“Pretty little cunt,” he muttered, low enough it felt meant for himself. His tongue darted out, catching a sticky trace of jam from his finger before smearing it along your inner thigh. “You’re dripping already. Crying, but dripping. Guess your body knows who owns it better than your mouth does.”
A broken sob cracked from your throat.
He glanced up at you, boxy grin flashing again, sinful now. “Careful, sweetheart. If you cry too much, the world might think you didn’t enjoy it. Good thing I have video evidence that proves otherwise.”
Then he buried his mouth against you.
The first lick was slow, deliberate, his tongue dragging up your folds as if he was tasting something expensive, savoring every drop. The whimper it pulled out of you made him chuckle against your skin.
“That’s it,” he whispered, his breath hot, lips glistening. “Say sorry while I eat you. I want to feel the apology shake through your thighs.”
His mouth returned, hungrier now, lips sucking at your clit while his tongue worked relentless circles. Every groan he made vibrated into you, making your hips twitch despite the tears streaking your face.
Your hand shot out, grabbing his hair, not to pull him closer but to push him away. He didn’t budge. If anything, he pressed harder, devouring you like punishment.
“Let go,” you pleaded, voice breaking.
Taehyung pulled back for a breath, his mouth shiny with you. “Not until you choke on sorry.” He smirked, dark eyes locked on yours. “Say it, and maybe I’ll even let you cum before breakfast.”
“T-tae, please—” you whimpered when his teeth sank into your clit, sharp enough to make your back arch off the counter.
Your hand trembled in his hair, tugging, but he only growled against you, tongue soothing the bite as if mocking your pain.
“I’m—” your voice cracked, throat tight, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry for…” the words drowned in your sob. His gaze flicked up, dark and demanding, refusing to let you stop.
“…sorry for rejecting you.” The whisper broke out of you like confession, shame dripping down your cheeks as freely as the tears.
Taehyung smirked against your cunt, sucking hard enough to make your whole body jerk. He pulled back just enough to speak, his mouth slick, his tone cruelly soft.
“There it is.” He dragged two fingers through your wetness, spreading it up over your swollen clit, making you twitch. “Apology accepted.”
Then his voice dropped, deeper, filthier. “Now cum on my tongue like a good little sorry girl, or I’ll make you watch that video on repeat while I fuck your throat.”
He dove back in, devouring you mercilessly, his fingers holding your thighs wide open as you writhed, the marble counter digging into your back. Every obscene sound of his tongue echoed in the kitchen, tangled with your broken sobs.
His tongue was ruthless now, flicking your clit with quick, devastating precision, lips sucking until you thought you’d break apart. Every whimper spilled out against the walls of the kitchen, mixing with the soft wet sounds of him eating you like a man starved.
“T-Taehyung—” your voice cracked, nails digging into his hair, “I-I can’t—”
“Yes, you can,” he growled into your skin, the vibration ripping straight through your core. His hand slid up, pressing flat against your stomach, pinning you in place. “You’re not running. You’re going to cum on my tongue, right here on the same counter you cried about rejecting me.”
You sobbed, thighs trembling violently, heat coiling so tight you thought your body might split.
“Say it.” He pulled back just long enough to slap his wet fingers against your clit, sharp little smacks that made you yelp. “Say what you’re sorry for while you cum for me.”
Your vision blurred, chest heaving, shame and pleasure crashing together. “S-sorry—for rejecting you—”
He latched back onto your clit, sucking hard, tongue circling with brutal focus. That was all it took. Your body convulsed, the orgasm tearing through you so violently you cried out, a broken scream that filled the kitchen.
Taehyung held you there, mouth glued to your cunt, drinking down every pulse of it until your thighs shook uncontrollably, until you were gasping, begging him to stop.
Only then did he finally lift his head, lips and chin glistening, his smile stretched into something both gorgeous and terrifying.
“Good girl,” he murmured, licking his bottom lip slow. “See? You sound prettier when you’re sorry.”
You were already so sore from last night that even the cold air brushing between your legs made you flinch. Taehyung stood up slowly, towering over you, pressing his forehead to yours like a lover even while his hands treated you like a possession.
“This wouldn’t happen if you just—be mine and not reject me,” he gritted out, voice a low snarl wrapped in honey.
He was manipulating you. You knew it, you felt it, but your brain floated somewhere between humiliation and haze, too heavy to claw your way back.
“Think about it…” his voice softened, almost sweet, the way you’d heard him speak to cameras. “…would this have even happened if you’d just decided to be my woman? Tell me, parrot.”
He cooed the nickname against your ear, kissing the edge of your jaw, his lips warm and soft in a way that made the words burn even hotter. You were too overwhelmed, your headspace fogged and slippery, to think of anything except the weight of his breath on your skin.
His fingers traced lazy circles around your clit again, teasing, making your body jerk even though it was screaming for a break. “It wouldn’t have happened if you didn’t try to be so fucking practical,” he hissed, his lips brushing your temple. “What did you say? You remember?”
Your mouth opened, but nothing came out.
“I’m not looking for a relationship, I care about your career.” He mimicked your voice, exaggerated, spitting each word out with venom and a smile.
His thumb pressed harder against your clit, sending another wave of unwanted pleasure up your spine. “Now look,” he giggled, low and dark. “What are you looking for now? Your career?”
He tilted his head, eyes sparkling with amusement. “It’s gone.”
Then, without warning, he slid one long finger inside you, the intrusion making your mouth fall open with a soft, strangled sound. His thumb never stopped circling your clit, slow and cruel.
“You feel that?” he whispered against your lips. “This is what you get for trying to be practical with me. This is what’s left of all your plans.”
He pushed deeper, curling his finger just enough to make your thighs twitch.
“And about that colleague of yours,” Taehyung muttered, tone so casual it made the words sting sharper, “the one you say ‘it’s just a colleague.’ I’ll do something about him too.”
Your eyes widened, wet with panic, head shaking weakly. “You won’t—mgh—”
Your voice cracked off as his finger curled inside you, brushing the spot that made your body convulse against the counter.
“Is that a challenge?” His grin split wide, boxy and cruel, his breath tickling your ear as his finger thrust harder. “Actually, I’m pretty good with challenges, parrot. You know… Run BTS trained me a lot.” He chuckled, mocking his own joke as if the destruction of your life was just another variety show gag.
Your chest heaved, breaths coming shallow as the pressure coiled fast, your body betraying you again. Another orgasm pulled at your insides, terrifying in its inevitability.
You lifted your gaze, tearful, broken, locking onto his eyes. “If you’re… you’re like this—” your voice fractured, “I can’t imagine how the members are. Al— all facade.”
For a second, his smile froze. His jaw tightened, the warmth in his expression flickering into something colder, darker.
“You think I’m the worst?” His tone dipped, dangerous now, his finger driving deeper, sharper. “You think my brothers wouldn’t ruin you worse if they wanted to?” He tilted his head, almost amused again, almost. “You don’t get it, sweetheart. You’re already ruined. And only I get to decide who sees it.”
His thumb pressed harder on your clit, rubbing cruel circles while his finger pumped mercilessly, dragging you to the edge again. “Say it, parrot,” he demanded through clenched teeth, his smile stretched sharp. “Say I’m the only one who gets to touch you. Or I’ll invite the others to see what I’ve recorded. You don't know bangtan like i do.”
The threat hung heavy, hotter than the finger inside you, making the tears spill harder as your body buckled toward climax.
Your body buckled, hips jerking against his hand, the orgasm building too fast, too hot. You couldn’t stop it even if you wanted to.
“Taehyung—” you gasped, eyes rolling back, “I-I can’t—”
His finger curled again, sharp, relentless. His thumb rubbed harder, faster, pulling you right to the brink. And then—he stopped.
Your thighs clamped around his hand instinctively, desperate for friction, but he only chuckled, pulling back slightly, his wet finger glistening between you.
“Not yet, parrot.” His voice dripped with amusement. “You don’t get to cum until I hear the words.”
Tears blurred your vision as you shook your head weakly. “P-please—”
He leaned close, lips brushing your temple, his grin sharp against your skin. “Say it. Say I’m the only one who gets to touch you. Or I’ll let everyone see what your body does when I play with it.”
He teased your entrance with the tip of his finger, sliding it in just barely before pulling out again, dragging the slick up to your clit. His touch was light, cruel, just enough to make your nerves scream.
“Is that what you want?” His tone was mocking, sing-song. “The members watching this on repeat? The fans seeing you spread out and dripping for me?”
You sobbed, hips shifting helplessly against his hand, chasing what he refused to give.
“Beg me, parrot,” Taehyung whispered, lips brushing the shell of your ear, his voice velvet and poison all at once. “Beg me to let you cum, and I’ll think about it.”
His fingers circled your clit slowly, deliberately keeping you hovering right at the edge. Your body shook, throat tight with humiliation and need, every muscle tense and trembling.
“Say it,” he hissed, curling his finger inside you once more before pulling away again, cruelly slow. “Say I’m the only one who gets to ruin you.”
“You’re the only one!” you cried out, the words tearing from your throat raw, desperate. You clutched at his shirt like it could anchor you, sobbing against his chest. “Let—let me cum…”
For a heartbeat, everything stilled. His thumb hovered just above your clit, his finger buried inside you but motionless. Taehyung stared down at you, expression unreadable, chest rising and falling slowly.
Then his mouth curved into a dark, satisfied smile.
“That’s better,” he murmured, voice low, vibrating against your ear. “Say it again.”
“You’re the only one,” you whispered, choking on the words as tears streaked your face. “Please…”
He kissed your temple, soft and mocking at once. “Good little parrot.”
And then he moved.
His thumb pressed hard to your clit, rolling tight circles while his finger pumped inside you, curling just right, the rhythm fast and merciless. Every stroke was punishment and reward at the same time, dragging broken sounds out of you until they didn’t even sound like words anymore.
“Cum for me,” Taehyung growled, eyes locked on your face, watching every twitch, every tear. “Cum on my fingers and remember exactly who you belong to.”
The orgasm hit like an electric shock. Your back arched off the counter, a raw, choked scream spilling from your mouth as you convulsed around his fingers. He didn’t stop; he rode you through it, hand steady, lips grazing your jaw as he whispered filth into your ear words you could barely process through the shuddering waves tearing through you.
By the time he finally eased his fingers out, you were trembling, wrecked, breath coming in ragged gasps. He slid the wet digits between his lips, sucking them clean with a low, satisfied moan.
“That’s how you apologize,” he said softly, still smiling that boxy, devastating smile. “That’s how you learn.”
Taehyung gathered you in his arms once again, pressing you tight to his chest like you were something fragile he had to keep from breaking apart.
You were too exhausted to fight anymore, too sore to push him away so you let yourself sink against him, your cheek brushing the hot skin of his throat. His scent clung to you, dizzying, suffocating.
He kicked the bathroom door open with his foot, not bothering with delicacy, and carried you inside. Steam curled around the tiles, the air heavy with warmth. The tub was already filled, water just the right temperature because of course he had prepared it. Of course he had thought ahead.
He lowered you into the bath like you were porcelain, careful, as though he hadn’t just wrecked you in ways no one else ever had. You let the heat swallow your body, water licking over your bruised thighs, your trembling stomach.
He stayed kneeling on the outside, rolling up the sleeves of his shirt, that faint boxy smile tugging at his lips.
Without a word, he reached for the loofah. Then his shampoo. He lathered the soap between his fingers until foam frothed, and pressed it to your skin. His touch wasn’t sexual now — but it was still too intimate, still claiming.
Every slow drag over your arm, your shoulder, your throat screamed ownership.
“I want you to smell like me,” he murmured, as if it was the simplest truth in the world. “Everywhere you go, every person you meet — they’ll know you’re mine.”
You stared at the ripples in the bath, voice thin, fragile.
“As long as… I agree to be your woman… you—you won’t release the tape?”
His hands stilled for a second, loofah resting against your collarbone. His eyes dragged to your face, unreadable, then he tilted his head with that deceptively gentle smile.
“Parrot,” he hummed, dipping the sponge lower, brushing over the swell of your breast before sliding down your ribs. “You still don’t understand, do you?”
You swallowed hard. “Just… answer me.”
Taehyung leaned in, his lips brushing your damp hairline as his fingers slipped shampoo through your scalp.
He hummed under his breath, soft and chillingly sweet, the lyrics spilling lazily out — ‘rainy days, thinking ‘bout you…’ His voice wrapped around you like silk and barbed wire all at once.
Finally, he whispered, almost tender:
“It’s not about what you agree to, love. You already belong to me. The tape? That’s just proof. A reminder of what happens if you forget.”
The sob that caught in your throat barely made it past your lips.
He chuckled low, pressing a kiss to your wet temple. “Be my woman, and I’ll never have to use it. Refuse me again… and I promise you, the whole world will watch you fall apart under me.”
Taehyung’s movements slowed until they became almost a ritual. He rubbed the loofah down your body with lazy precision, dragging the rough sponge over skin that was already tender. When he reached your thighs, he pressed them apart with his knee, his eyes never leaving your face.
The loofah dipped lower, lower still, until it brushed over the sore, puffy folds between your legs.
You gasped, a broken little sound, water lapping over the sides of the tub.
“Shhh,” Taehyung whispered, pecking your trembling lips, almost sweet. “I’m just washing you.” But the deliberate circle of the loofah over your clit said otherwise; it was soft enough to make you shiver, rough enough to sting.
Tears welled in your eyes. “Before rejecting you…” your voice cracked as you stared up into his dark eyes, “I—I told you I cared about you. I cared about your career. Why… why did you choose this way?”
His smile deepened, boxy and beautiful and cruel all at once. He tilted your chin up with one wet finger. “Because you didn’t care the right way.”
You swallowed, trembling.
Taehyung’s thumb replaced the loofah now, drawing slow, maddening circles over your clit as he leaned in, his nose brushing yours. “You thought saying no would keep me at a distance. You thought you could manage me like some PR crisis. But you don’t manage me, parrot. Not here. Not in this house.”
You blinked hard, the tears spilling over. It was all about rejection. Everything. Every act. Every manipulation. This moment. His obsession.
He pressed his forehead to yours, fingers sliding lower, slipping between your folds. “The main purpose, parrot…” his voice dropped to a growl, “…when no means nothing.”
Your hips jerked involuntarily under the water; you bit back a sob.
“You wanted to teach me boundaries,” he murmured, kissing your jaw, your ear, your throat. “Now I’m teaching you what happens when you draw them. You say you cared. But here you are, in my bath, smelling like me, bleeding my name.”
He shifted closer, his palm spreading over your stomach as his fingers played between your thighs, relentless but slow. “So, say it again,” he whispered against your mouth. “Tell me why you rejected me. Tell me why you thought I’d ever take no seriously.”
Taehyung stood over you, fingers working at the button of his trousers with infuriating calm, as if undressing in front of you was no more significant than removing a watch. He pushed them down, the fabric pooling at his ankles before he stepped into the tub.
Your chest rose and fell sharply. The water rippled with the weight of him, heat radiating off his skin as he lowered himself opposite you. His eyes never left yours. Then, with one smooth pull, he dragged you across the tub, onto his lap, until you were straddling him.
Your thighs trembled against his. “I’m… I’m sore,” you whispered, voice nearly swallowed by the sound of water.
Taehyung only smiled, pressing his mouth against yours, soft, deliberate, deceptive. “And I’m not done.”
He kissed you again, this time rougher, teeth catching your bottom lip, dragging it out until you whimpered into his mouth.
His hands slid down, gripping your waist, your ass, forcing your core to press against the hardness already pushing against your thigh.
You pulled back slightly, your breath catching. “Tae…”
He nipped at your jaw, murmuring against your skin. “Parrot, last night I fucked you through your tears. This morning, I’ll fuck you through your soreness. That’s the difference between you and me — you think rejection ends things. I think rejection begins them.”
You shivered as he guided you higher on his lap, his cock pressing right against your entrance, water lapping over both of you. His tone was casual, like a man reading headlines. “Every time you say no, all I hear is: fuck me harder. Isn’t that right?”
Your eyes fluttered, overwhelmed, but you couldn’t answer.
He chuckled darkly, hands framing your face. “Answer me, parrot. Or I’ll keep you in this bath until you can’t walk out.”
His grip tightened on your hips, water spilling over the edge of the tub with every small movement. Taehyung tilted his head, brushing his nose against yours, his lips hovering a breath away.
“You’re already trembling,” he murmured, voice a low vibration in your chest. “Sore, wet, still trying to defy me.” His thumb slid down between your thighs, rubbing circles over your clit until your whole body twitched. “And yet…” he pushed the tip of his cock against you, just enough to make you gasp, “…you’re opening for me.”
You clawed at his shoulders, whimpering. “Tae…”
He laughed softly, the sound curling against your ear. “Say it again. Say my name like a plea.” He pushed in an inch, then stopped. His other hand reached up, gripping your jaw to force your eyes open. “Look at me when I ruin you, parrot.”
You stared at him through wet lashes. “Taehyung…”
That was all it took. He sank deeper, slow, inch by inch, stretching you despite the water easing the friction. The soreness made it burn, but the slide was inevitable.
He hissed against your neck. “This is what I like… you all small and raw around me, thinking you can still run.” He rolled his hips upward, grinding into you as his thumb kept circling your clit. “You feel that? This is where no dies.”
Your breath hitched; tears clung to your cheeks.
“Every time you fight,” he whispered, kissing the tears away, “you make it better. You make me harder. You make yourself wetter.” He thrust again, slow but deep, pulling you down on him until you were fully seated. “Now, ride. Show me you know who you belong to.”
His hands guided your hips, dragging you back and forth against him as his cock filled you. The water sloshed loudly around you both, mixing with the soft sounds you couldn’t hold back anymore.
Taehyung pressed his forehead to yours, the smile gone now, replaced with something darker. “Say it,” he ordered softly. “Say what you’re sorry for while you come apart on me.”
Your mouth fell open, a soft gasp catching in your throat, damp from the steam curling up around you. Your whole face was flushed, tears clinging to the corners of your eyes, your nose pink from crying. Wet lashes clumped together; your drenched bangs stuck to your forehead in messy strands.
He looked down at you like a man admiring a masterpiece he’d made. Your breasts bounced with every upward thrust, water splashing over the rim of the tub with each movement.
The ripples turned into waves, heat sliding between your skin and his.
You looked like a disaster. His disaster. His fingers dug into your waist, hauling you down harder, until every sound you made was swallowed by his mouth or the water.
“Look at you,” Taehyung rasped against your neck, biting at the skin just below your jaw. “All wet and ruined and still clenching around me. This—” he thrust upward, slow but deep, “—this is what happens when you say no to me.”
You tried to speak but only a sob left your throat.
He chuckled darkly, lips grazing your ear. “My little parrot. Crying, shaking, dripping… and still taking every inch.”
He rolled his hips again, harder, your breasts jiggling against his chest. “Tell me whose mess you are.”
“N-not yours…” you choked, the words scraping out of your throat like glass.
Taehyung’s chuckle was low and ugly, vibrating through his chest. “Yeah?” His hand slid up, fingers curling around your throat, not tight enough to crush but firm enough to make your vision spot. The knot of his grip made you gasp.
He pressed you down, your face breaking the surface of the bathwater. The heat roared in your ears; your lungs screamed. Your hands clawed at his wrists, bubbles rising between your fingers. For a few seconds, everything went muffled and blue and endless.
Then he yanked you back up, water pouring down your face and chest, your hair plastered to your skin. You coughed violently, clinging to his neck as you fought for air.
He bit your bottom lip hard enough to sting, his eyes glinting with a mix of hunger and fury. “Say it,” he growled, his thumb brushing a tear off your cheek only to smear it into the water.
“Y–your mess…” you breathed, voice breaking, barely more than air. It slipped out of you like a confession you’d been tortured into, the words trembling between sobs.
Taehyung froze for half a heartbeat, then smiled — slow, dangerous, satisfied. His hand stayed at your throat, thumb pressed lightly under your jaw so you couldn’t look anywhere but at him.
“My mess,” he repeated, his grin flashing even as his hips snapped up into you, water splashing over the tub. “Say it again.”
Your nails dug into his shoulders as your body shook around him. “Your mess—” you cried out, the words drowning under the rhythm of his thrusts.
He groaned, dragging his teeth along your cheek before claiming your lips in a bruising kiss. “Good girl,” he muttered against your mouth. “Now I’ll fuck you until you never forget who made you this way.”
He groaned at your surrender, fucking you through the spasms, eyes locked on your wrecked face. His lips crushed yours in a kiss that was more teeth than tenderness, swallowing every broken sound you made.
When you finally collapsed, trembling, clinging to him, he wrapped his arms tight around your waist, forcing you to stay on his lap even as your body shook. His voice was low, smug, final.
“That’s all I needed, parrot. Not your rejection. Not your reasons. Just this.” He kissed your wet cheek, dragging his tongue along your tear tracks. “You. Wrecked. And mine.”
In that moment you finally understood — in Taehyung’s world, your “no” had never been a wall; it had only ever been an invitation, because when no means nothing, you become everything.
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