TAEGI SMUTS [ᵃᵒ3]

Love To Hate You

Ao3 by : saesbyeols

Summary :

“Tell me how much you hate me.”

“I hate you. So much, Kim Taehyung.”

“Good.”

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In which Yoongi, as the Crown Prince of his kingdom, absolutely hates Taehyung. And for good reason.

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It was constricting. The servants pulled the strings on his corset—why did he have to wear one?—so tight that he couldn’t breathe.

Though Yoongi figured as the Crown Prince next in line for the throne, he would need to appear attractive in order to find someone to marry, someone to take as a consort.

And it was no secret that the Crown Prince preferred his lovers to be male.

It had caused quite an uproar when it was first announced, because Yoongi knew the people’s only concern was How will he continue the family line? How will he have children? Oh, what a shame.

He knew he had disappointed many young women who had tried and failed to seduce him—tried and failed to get him to bring them to his bed.

Many more men than women now approached him on many different occasions—men who surprisingly didn’t want anything to do with his titles. But he didn’t mind. When it came to pleasure, Yoongi was loath to mix it with business.

A gorgeous young man with curly dark hair came to mind—a young man whom he knew had been the opposite of all those men he had slept with. A young man whose family was rather close with his father—who advised him closely and always showed up to the monthly meetings with the court officials.

He knew Lord Kim. The entire kingdom knew him. His son, Taehyung, had been flirting with Yoongi since they were old enough to begin courting. But Taehyung had always been rather rude to him.

And they had been dancing around each other ever since. Quite literally.

He hadn’t seen him in a long while, but Yoongi was certain Mr. Kim’s son had a strong disdain for him. Yoongi’s father had expressed his appreciation for Taehyung on more than one occasion, but Yoongi wasn’t having it. Especially not after—

Yoongi bit back the curses he might have let out had there not been so many servants in the room as they pulled— and tied the laces skillfully in the back. He had this new corset fitted not too long ago, but his waist was already slender as it was.

As the servants dressed him in resplendent colours and fabrics he didn’t know the names of—a special suit for today’s occasion—Yoongi wondered whether he’d make a good king.

He had been dutifully sitting by his father each month at these meetings, taking notes—mental and physical—and observing the way his father reacted to certain situations, observing the way he sat and carried himself, the poise he held about his entire figure.

It was intimidating. Yoongi wished he could hold the same command.

Currently, his father was out of the country dealing with an issue across the sea, and had entrusted him to lead the meeting with the court officials, and Yoongi was surprisingly calm.

He had sat in enough meetings to know how to lead them, and the officials mostly did that on their own anyway.

But he was nervous about facing Mr. Kim. Nervous he’d say the wrong thing and paint him and his father in a negative light.