SCHOOL F*CKING SUCKS! | YANDERE!BTS

MEASURE MY SKIRT, I DARE YOU

WARNINGS. smut. fingering. dubcon touching. slight degradation. 

🖇

"you wanna sit on my lap?"

"... excuse me?"

the boy shrugs when he sees the disbelief on your face. "just thought that my lap would be a lot more comfortable than that chair you're sitting in."

you gawk (he has to stifle a snicker at your reaction) before sputtering, "t-taehyung, that's inappropriate! and there's no way i'm sitting on your lap." your eyes flicker to his thick thighs, accidentally gazing for a second too long before shifting your attention to his face again. "never."

he tilts his head with confusion (confusion that's overly done, and you want to slap it off). "inappropriate? but you're just gonna sit on my lap, that's all." as if he knows no better, he lets out a loud gasp, eyes widening, "don't tell me you're imagining something nasty-"

"no!" you shout as your face reddens unintentionally, because you weren't. of course you weren't thinking about how nice his thighs would feel between your legs. of course.

at the sight of your flusteredness, he laughs, again. "hey, your choice, though i'm considering on actually working if you follow my advice."

this bastard.

your lips form a hard line once more, and you look to the closed door and the walls that have windows covered in posters. thank god for hoseok going all out for his tennis club advertising (though you did scold him for doing so in the beginning). it seems that the sun is starting to haze in the horizon; you really don't have time to argue with taehyung any more. so with one final glance to his lap, you close your eyes and huff.

a smirk finds his lips when you robotically get up from your seat and shuffle to him. he rolls mrs. yoo's chair back just a bit, allowing you to stand in front of him. then, you hesitantly sit on his thighs, thinking about forgetting the whole ordeal before his hands hold your waist and bring you down.

you yelp out his name before remembering that there might still be staff in the halls (though taehyung knows there's not; he already asked them all to avoid this part of the school today because the two of you would be busy; rich kid privileges). you struggle a little before he reaches for his backpack on the ground, his pants shifting under your bottom. "why are you struggling? weren't you the one who was complaining about the time?" he's just trying to annoy you.

you hate the way he feigns innocence, hate how much it makes you feel like you're overreacting. "if we get in trouble, then i'm going to say that you made me do it," you grumble lowly as you also lean to grab your pencil bag. you place your laptop on the desk and take out your pens.

"c'mon, class president," he chuckles, "you wouldn't tattle on me, would you?"

"i would."

"of course you would," his voice muses in your ear and you jerk away at the proximity, still unable to move with his hands back on your waist. "you would tell yoo anything to get me in trouble, right? cause you just love seeing me beg to be forgiven."

"i only tell her because you're the one who chooses to do things that would get you in trouble, taehyung. and it's unfair to the rest of the class if you don't own up to them." you want to sound responsible, mature, but you can't help the quiver of your voice when his fingers play at the hem of your skirt. your voice tries to keep strong. "taehyung, w-what are you doing?"

he ignores your question. "but if anyone else were to do it, then you wouldn't be so mad, would you?"

you swat his touch away from your clothes. his left hand still anchors you down and you stare at it, unable to meet his eyes that seem to grow darker and darker with each passing second (you convince yourself that it's the light that's dimming, but with him smirking with dubious intent, that doesn't seem to be the case). "that's because you slack around. you never take anything seriously, and still end up placing high in ranking." you glare at him over your shoulder. "so yes, if it was anyone else other than you, kim taehyung, then i wouldn't be as bothered."

"but i don't score as high as you, right?"

"yes, but that's not the point, taehyung. the point is that i'm still class president, and telling mrs. yoo what you do is what's right." you turn to the empty paper on the desk, hoping to get this conversation over as quick as possible. right now, he gives you a bad feeling in your stomach (not the usual one filled with vexation, but one of uneasiness, though it's sprouting warmth in your abdomen).

he hums, watching you flip your computer open. you know he's staring at you; you see his reflection in the black screen before it turns on. his expression switches to his usual cherry one and you roll your eyes (second time this hour). the pads of your finger type against the letters, hoping to drown out the noisy clock above you, and possibly the sound of his breathing (it makes you realize how close his mouth is to your neck, and it makes the shell of your ears turn pink). you're about to sternly remind him to hurry up and start writing, but you don't get the chance.

"well aren't you a good girl," he says, voice so deep that it shakes your nerves. it makes you pause, unresponsive to the fingers that dance dangerously on your clothed legs. they find their way under your skirt and glide along your skin. "such a teacher's pet. but there's no need to pretend, i know the real reason why you don't like me."

what's the real reason? your mind opposes such a thing, but your body seems to know. "shut up, taehyung," you whisper, but it comes out as an unexpected gasp when he squeezes your thigh with his right hand. you don't expect it. really, you didn't expect any of this.

"i make you feel so bothered, make you want things that are inappropriate. isn't that right?"

the memories of your own fingers pleasuring yourself to the idea of them being taehyung's is buried in the back of your mind, buried by the pressure of academics. the memories of your own fingers pleasuring yourself to the idea of them being taehyung's is buried in the back of your mind, buried by the pressure of academics. unknown to you, taehyung also has thoughts of you (too many, actually), but he doesn't mention it, nor does he mention that he came on the toilet seats while you were waiting for him, while he imagined fucking you in the tiny restroom stalls.

you squirm and deny his accusation with a shy shake of your head. you weren't going to give him what he wanted; you hated kim taehyung's smug smile that often crept onto his face.

"and here i thought you were supposed to be truthful."

you grit your teeth and close your eyes, gripping onto both his left hand on your waist and the one in between your legs. "i am being truth-"

but your sentence is cut short when his index ghosts the lining of your panties, prodding at your clit and making you lurch forward with a whine you try to force down. the fabric is slipped to the side, allowing for his long, sleek finger to delve into your heat. it takes your breath away, has you silently opening your mouth at being touched by someone else for the first time. it stings, hurts a bit, and he pushes slow. each consistent centimeter has you pushing down a moan.

he chuckles at how wet you are, how sensitive you are. "you're so cute, class president, acting like you don't like what i'm doing to you."

"th-that's because i don't, you idiot!" you gasp as he adds another finger, stretching you. he grabs onto your left thigh and spreads your legs open to give him better access. the angle has you feeling something starting to coil in your abdomen.

his tongue clicks with disappointment. "such a liar. do you know how bad lying is?"

you can't snap back a comment because you're so distracted with how he touches you. your eyes are rolling, but not in a sarcastic way; in the way that lets taehyung know that the slow fucking of his fingers into your cunt is making you feel things you've never felt. you're already lolling your head back and having your jaw slack at the sensation of each curve his fingers give and each stroke he thumbs over your clit. your brows stitch when he brushes harder against your walls. the moan that slips out is small but is heard by taehyung. he chuckles lowly.

"dirty little liar."

the line rings in your mind.

dirty, you repeat in your head.

what were you, the top student of the class, the one who despised taehyung's effect on you, doing right now, trembling at his touch?

you have to stop this. you can't go any further.