christmas linen

Pillow Fort (M)

Summary: Date night with Taehyung takes a pleasant turn, not that you’re complaining.
Pairing: Taehyung | Reader
Genre: Fluff/Smut
Word Count: 4,439
Author’s Note: I feel like once you’ve opened the gates of knowing you’re capable of writing (trashy) smut it just… it doesn’t go away and that idea is ruining my life so I wrote this. For science. Basically you and Taehyung have (a lot of) sex in a pillow fort, because I’m single and frustrated. Enjoy.

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To say you are excited would be an understatement as you take the stairs up to the dorms two at a time, your bag swinging at your side with each hop but you don’t care, even as breathing starts to become harder as your muscles start to ache after every step. Your lungs are working beyond what constitutes as a normal, everyday walk for you, but you are dashing down the hallway as soon as you reach the landing at the top of the stairs. You can feel your heartbeat in your ear, footsteps pounding against the floor, sure to disrupt all the neighbors who can hear the echo but you don’t give a fuck.

How could you possibly care, especially when your emotions have positively skyrocketed into the air with a simple phone call, that bright-eyed smile refusing to dip out from your face, your heart racing for more reasons than one as you watch the numbers of each apartment fly by.

Until finally you reach it.

You stop dead in your tracks, the wind catching up to you to ruffle hair as you stand with flushed cheeks, heaving chest, parted lips—locks in your mouth. You take in the apartment number, running the digits through your mind even though you already have the combination long memorized. You bite your lip as your heart continues to ram in your chest, fingers lifting up to curl at the hair sticking in your mouth to pull it down.

As soon as the hair is out of your mouth, you forget to straighten your clothes or your hair or wait until you’ve calmed down considerably. You’re still standing, heaving as if you’ve just ran miles and miles, fist raising up before you pound on the door.

It’s only a few seconds before the individual on the other side swings open the door, no ounce of hesitation in the gesture much like had it been with you, revealing Kim Taehyung—messy hair, bright eyes, cheeks flushed and his own chest heaving even though he’s only had to flutter from the couch to the door. But you’ve never seen a sight more beautiful, more perfect, and your heart sings from the sight of his physical presence.

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