????? Ish??? I Guess???? - Tumblr Posts
I'm in class reading this during my 20 minutes break time and I'm sqUEEZING MY TIME HERE BUT, first of all, I love it when writer said: "fuck buddies to ????" Because sometimes they want to keep it a secret so the reader will find out by thhemselves, and at others it's because fuck if i know what they become looooool
ANYWAY i would devour this as a whole fic bc i was, at some point, OBSESSED with the prompt of fake dating for a reunion like yES give me all the doubts and the pining bc idk if he's actually into me or if he's faking it for show 😔😔😔
You said no more Hobi or Jin so:
Taehyung x fake marriage/marriage roleplay
Just don't tell anyone I made a Tae request lmaooooooo 🤣
moni, my love, i hate to break it to you, but….. the people know. they see you and they know.
the one with taehyung’s indecent proposal
pairing: kim taehyung x afab!reader type: drabble (smut, fluff) | rating: 18+ | wc: 1.4k au: fake relationship, fuck buddies to ? cw: oral sex (f), fingering, alcohol mention summary: your fuck buddy’s class reunion is coming up. that’s not something you expected to learn about. it’s definitely not something you expected to be implicated in. 🔞 minors & ageless blocks who interact with my content will be blocked. my stuff is not for you.
For whatever it’s worth, you consider yourself to be intuitive. It doesn’t take long for you to read a person, to start predicting their next moves with enough accuracy to spook yourself. You anticipate the direction their footsteps will take long before their feet hit the ground; and more often than not, you’re right.
But then you look at Kim Taehyung, and you can’t tell if you’re illiterate or if he’s illegible because you have never — not once — been able to tell what the fuck he’s up to. He exists outside the matrix, you think, vibrating on a frequency you may not be evolved enough to hear. His mind is flying ahead at warp speed, and you’re usually stuck staring at the sky, wondering where he’s zoomed off to.
That’s how you ended up where you are at this moment — in the metaphorical dust.
The way your head is spinning has a lot to do with where his head is, but you heard him. You know you heard him, and there’s no mistaking what he said, no matter how muffled his voice is.
With fistfuls of bedsheets, you lift your head from the pillows they’d just crashed back upon moments ago. Panting, you scoff, “What?”
Taehyung pulls his face away from your cunt long enough for you to see his dark eyes brighten. Before he blinked, they were hazy with lust, and now — ?
Oh, god.
He licks remnants of you off his lips, and you forget what the fuck it was you were startled by.
He clears his throat. “I said,” he repeats with a lopsided grin, “Marry me.”
You blink at him. He blinks back at you.
One of you recalls that the two of you met at a party two (2) months ago and have kept semi-regular dick appointments in the time since. The other seems to have forgotten that, forgotten that this is the only context you know each other in: naked, sweat-slicked, and fuck-drunk.
“Why are you looking at me like that?” He frowns. Then, to ease the tension between your raised eyebrows, he places an open-mouthed kiss at the very top of your inner thigh.
Like it’s all casual.
It’s supposed to be casual.
“You — ” You lose the next part of your sentence when he dives back into you, tongue so eager that it’s lapped up your words. You shake your head to clear it. Focus. “You want me to marry you? Taehyung, respectfully, what the — fuuuuck.”
Lost marbles scatter around your brain. Not a thought to stop them, just fireworks. He suckles hard against your clit and you slump back fully against the mattress, groaning and gasping.
“What are you…?”
You give up when his tongue flattens, presses deep into your folds as he drags a thick, languid line up your center.
Words.
Words?
What even are those? Where can I acquire them?
Can I buy a vowel?
He laughs, like you’re the one making the joke. Above all, he seems confused by your confusion.
“Not for real,” Taehyung clarifies. He pauses to flick his tongue against your swollen bud, leaving you twitching where you lay. “Just for a night. Gotta class reunion I have to go to and I, uhhh…”
“Holy shit,” you wail as his middle digit slips in to fill the void his mouth left behind.
The assault on your g-spot is fastidious and unrelenting, in total juxtaposition to the way he speaks. Casual and confoundingly chipper. If he wasn’t two knuckles deep, his tone might indicate that he was talking about his latest trip to the grocery store, or a movie he’d just seen.
Taehyung barely reacts to the way you clench around one finger; he certainly doesn’t bat an eye when he adds a second. Instead, he smiles sheepishly.
Bashful? At a time like this?
“I may have told some of my old teammates that I was married,” He shrugs. “But, hey, if you saw the shit they’ve accomplished so far in life, you wouldn’t blame me for trying to save face somehow.”
Well.
You sought an explanation, and you received one. What did you expect?
“T-teammates?” You mutter as he curls his finger upwards, rubbing so painfully perfect where you need the friction most. “W-what sport?”
Why are you making small talk right now?
Taehyung grins at the interest you’ve displayed; it’s the first time you’ve ever discussed hobbies. You can’t unpack that because your back is arching up off the mattress like he’s conducting an exorcism, not finger-fucking you to the brink of collapse. Worst of all, there’s no effort showing on his face. No acknowledgement in his sparkling eyes that he’s ruining you, with only one hand.
“Soccer,” He replies easily.
You squeak, “Oh, that’s nice,” and then your stream of consciousness sends you barreling over the waterfall.
Convulsing, you cum so hard that your vision turns to static. Writhing and whimpering, you have to clamp your knees together to combat the overstimulation he’s — either knowingly or unknowingly, hard to say — dragged you towards.
When your limbs stop tingling, you scoot over to make room for him beside you on the bed. He drops himself into the space you’ve created, one arm tucked under his head and the other snaking its way under your neck. You accept his bicep as a pillow for your heavy head, and then you tilt it to stare up at him.
“So, what? You said you were married, and everyone else you asked to be your fake spouse said no,” you assume.
Of course, as his biweekly fuck buddy, you wouldn’t be the first one on his list. You wonder how many other people he’d asked ahead of you, and if the offer only crossed his mind when they were squirming, naked, right in front of him.
Taehyung snorts. “Better get me an ice pack for the bruised ego.”
He scrubs his free hand over his face as he laughs. “You really think I’ve been shot down that many times?”
You don’t know what to do with this statement, so you furrow your eyebrows. He finally looks at you, and once again, he’s shy.
Either those are butterflies in your stomach, or your body is trying to remind you to flush out your bladder. Either way, you ignore the sensation. Elbowing him gently, you try to nudge loose whatever words are caught in his mouth.
“Might’ve dropped your name, specifically.” He admits with a grimace. He misreads the stunned look on your face as something else — offense or annoyance, maybe — because he continues quickly, “You were just the first person that came to mind, I dunno. Would’ve been easier if my lie wasn’t so… detailed.”
You can’t help but warble: “Aww, Taehyungie wants to fake marry me?”
He knocks your shoulder with his to hide how red his cheeks have gone.
—
“Does this look as bad as I think it does?” You mutter as you run your hands down the skirt of your dress for the hundredth time.
Taehyung gulps the remainder of his beer and sets the empty pint glass down against the bar. Hand now free, he grabs yours and holds it hostage. Affectionately — not annoyed by your fidgeting the way you yourself are. And he ignores your question. He should, after all; he’s told you two hundred times that you look pretty.
Pretty.
That stupid word has you tickled pink, which is ridiculous.
Ridiculous and pretty.
The brief nod of his head towards the doorway catches your attention. You follow his eyes to the other end of the hotel ballroom where a group of gorgeous men and their objectively more gorgeous wives cross the threshold.
“Damn, TaeTae’s all grown up!” The tall one shouts through cupped hands, even though he’s only a few meters away.
Your eyes shift upwards to Taehyung’s face. His boxy grin doesn’t quite meet his eyes; and he looks down at you as if he’s silently asking you to bolt with him out the back door.
You snort, voice low. “TaeTae?”
“Don’t,” He pleads. And he must be settling into character because he leans down to kiss your temple. Lips still near your ear, he whispers, “We may be pushing thirty, but I guarantee they’re still not above a titty-twister if I push back on it.”
You wiggle your eyebrows. “Kinky.”
And, just for a second, that fond look in his eye makes you forget that this is a hoax. So does that laugh as he shakes his head, the one that silently says, “oh, you.”
The stocky one is beaming when the group finally reaches you. He eyes you up and down with an amazed — albeit not inherently gross — whistle. He laughs as he claps Taehyung on the shoulder. “And he wasn’t exaggerating! Traded in those too-big ears for a smoke show, didn’t you?”
“I don’t remember saying the bit about the ears, but the rest is accurate.” Taehyung shoots you a wink that reads authentic. He squeezes your hand and your swooning heart, too. “Couldn’t have picked better if I tried.”