She's an American songwriter living in South Korea. He's one of the biggest idols on Earth. When they meet, sparks fly - but can they overcome past traumas, and find a happy ending?
A Kim Taehyung fanfic.
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[Content warning: This chapter contains descriptions of sexual situations that are consensual and non-harming, but are quite aggressive and might be too much for some people. Reader discretion is advised.]
Taehyung sits down at the dining table when we get home, slumped to one side. I take a seat across from him and try to make eye contact, and he eventually looks up. His eyes are darker than I've ever seen them, and they're swirling with loss and pain and anger and regret. "What's happening, love?" I ask.
He stares at me silently for a very long ten seconds. "Birdie, I just... I don't know. We practiced for Proof Live today and I started thinking about everything we've gone through so far, all the shit we took, the feeling that we would never be able to work hard enough to amount to anything. And then I started to worry about what might happen next year, and it seems like we could lose everything we've worked and bled for. And I remembered hard things from my childhood. I feel like there's just this huge ball of bad emotions inside me right now, and I don't know what to do with it." His eyes widen with fear. "I don't want you to see that, I don't want to put that on you." He bites his lower lip, but not in a sexy way.
I sigh and look down at the table for a moment, then meet his eyes again. "My love, I am sometimes a basket case, as my dear sister pointed out, but I'm also strong. I can take it. I want to be here for you, Tae. I want to help if I can. Please tell me what you're feeling, what you're going through."
His eyes are huge now, and he opens his mouth, but then closes it again. He sighs. "I... I don't want to do that to you."
I study his face for a long moment. "Well, in that case, should I distract you? We have the whole house to ourselves for once!"
He looks at me and smiles faintly. "OK. That might be nice."
I make sure that all the blinds in the living room and kitchen are closed, then go upstairs. I pull the black and red strappy leather halter bodysuit out of my suitcase. 'Good lord, my friends are so perverted!' I think, and then laugh when it occurs to me that I'm the person actually planning to wear the thing. I start to put it on. Leather bands outline my breasts, which are fully exposed, with one thicker strap running under them and then all the way around my back. I have a little bit of trouble fastening the hook and eye closures on the choker around my neck, but I finally get them done.
More red and black straps crisscross my stomach and connect to leather garters around my thighs. I feel the back, and realize that the strap that circles my rib cage connects to the choker with a thick band of leather running down my upper spine, designed so that the wearer's partner can pull the choker tighter from behind. 'Oh, fuck!' I think, my heart speeding up and my vagina beginning to tingle at the thought. I start to snap the garters around my thighs, but realize that I have to put the crotchless red panties on first. Finally I put on my black heels, and survey the results in the mirror. I'm a little bit afraid of what could happen next, as I look at myself, but I'm also aching to find out.
