It made sense.
They were always a little different, a little more. She was his rock, his comfort. She was always there. When he was scared or stressed, she was right there. She always knew exactly what he needed.
It made sense for them to take their friendship a little further. They were practically a couple anyway, why wouldn't they make it official?
It didn't take long for their relationship to develop into something a little more unconventional.
It made sense.
He'd always had a dominant personality on stage. He loved to tease, to make the fans scream. To make everyone question their own sexualities. He turned into a completely different person, growling and thrusting and turning organs inside out.
She and his friends were the only ones who knew the other side of him. They were the only ones he allowed to know the other side of him. The softside, he'd reluctantly admit.
With her, though, it was different. The members knew what he needed most of the time, whether he needed cuddles or space, but she'd always been special. The others liked to tease, but he knew she was different.
She was his escape, his safe haven. She could give him things the other members couldn't. She knew every inch of him, every signal, all of his body language. She was fluent in bullshit. She always knew what he needed, and it simultaneously calmed and shamed him.
She was able to give him a break, from caring for other people, from caring for himself. He could float and sink and fall apart, and trust her to pick up the pieces. He didn't need to be the strong, cool hyung anymore. He could just be hers. She always knew what he needed, before he knew he needed it. She could read him like a book. It was calming and terrifying. She could use every weakness he had against him, and there would be nothing he could do about it.
But she never did. She took such good care of him. It almost made him feel bad, how much he needed to be cared for. To be loved.
She simply dragged him down next to her on his bed, adjusting him so his head was pillowed on her thigh. She ran her fingers through his hair, whispering how proud she was, how good he was being for her, how safe he was, until he turned to putty in her lap, nuzzling her like a needy little kitten. Her kitten. Her precious little baby boy.
Sometimes he needed more, needed a firm hand and a stern voice to retreat into his own head, to let himself fly. Those days, she took him over her knee, held him down with a hand on his back and a leg wrapped over his own. All he could do was squirm on her lap and cry as she punished him for not taking proper care of himself, for hiding away from her. She tore him apart, piece by piece, until he could let himself shatter in her arms, under her hands. She pushed him to his limits, degrading and shaming and making him feel as small as she felt he needed to.
Then she put him back together again, with gentle fingers and lingering kisses. She told him exactly everything he needed to hear, how good he was, how precious, how honored she was to do this for him. He soaked it in like a sponge, whining and squirming and making a mess of them both.
They eventually decided on Mommy.
Mistress and Ma'am felt too formal, but for him, calling her by her name didn't feel like enough. So he tried Mommy.
Mommy was perfect. And she was his.
They did get around to having actual sex, her pinning him to his own bed, rubbing herself up and down over him, teasing until he's a blubbering mess, begging her to get on with it, to let him come.
That was always her favorite part.
They eventually got more adventurous, negotiating kinks and getting progressively more public with it. They couldn't make it too obvious, it was too risky for them both, but they liked the thrill. The risk of someone finding out and telling the world, of someone catching them in the act.
In public they eventually got a little more bold. She would put a possessive hand around the back of his neck. She would slap his ass, give a warning glare or tug to his hair when he got too impolite.
When she came over to his, though, she took a few more risks. She pushed their time limits and left doors unlocked or cracked open, dropping hints every chance she could get at what they were doing.
So, when the rest of bangtan texted him to let him know they were coming back from dinner early, she couldn't resist.
She lead him to the living room and stripped them both, sitting on their sofa and guiding him over her lap once again, his cock squished between her thighs and face buried in the cushions.
"You ready, baby boy?" she smiled, smoothing her hand down his back and over his ass.
"Yes," he settled his cheek onto the cushion, eyes already glazed over.
"Yes what?" she gave him a warning tap, soothing her hand over the spot afterwards.
"Yes, mommy," he whispered, burying his reddening face back into the cushions.
"Good boy," she gave him a rewarding stroke through his hair, feeling him nuzzle into her gentle touch. "What are your colors?"
"Green for all good, yellow for slow down and talk, red for stop," he recited dutifully, relaxing into her lap.
"Good," she purred, rubbing down his spine to relax him before she reared her hand back and brought it down hard onto his right asscheek, watching him cry out and jerk on her lap before smoothing her hand over the mark.
She brought her hand down over and over, keeping him in suspense, waiting for her to strike him again.
He began to lose track of time, unable to do anything but scream as he was overwhelmed with sensations, her above him and all around him, his hard cock smothered between her legs, throbbing and sore, his ass blistering hot underneath her hand.
She retrieved her half empty bottle of lube from being lost somewhere in the cushions, pouring it over him and rubbing it over his quickly reddening skin. She rubbed some in between his asscheeks and over his hole, making him moan and twitch. She'd learned rather early on that he had a very sensitive prostate, and she liked to take advantage of it as often as she possibly could.
She let him have a break, working a finger into him and stroking his spine. He turned to putty in her hands, a relaxed little ball of sensitized pleasure. He arched up as she skillfully found his prostate, rubbing it in infuriating little circles.
She smirked at her baby's whining, pulling her finger out much to his displeasure and getting in a few more good hits to his ass and thighs. All he could do was whine until a particularly hard hit propelled him forward on her lap, the friction on his cock almost unbearable.
"Mommy!" It came out as a broken cry, and she smiled, rubbing the reddened skin soothingly.
"Mommy loves it when you say her name, baby," she purred, reveling in the delicious cry she got as she hit him again.
She alternated between hard slaps to his ass and thighs and long, slow strokes over his prostate. He whined and squirmed in her lap, unable to keep quiet.
Delicious little whines of "Mommy" and "Please" reached her ears, and it only made her work harder to tear him apart, to make him scream.
The members didn't know what was going on until it hit them in the face.
Literally.
They came through the front door and were hit with the ear-shattering sound of his screams, coming from their living room, high and broken.
Beautiful.
She didn't even flinch as they came and left, the squirming boy on her lap moaning as he heard the door open and close.
"That's my little exhibitionist," she leaned down to whisper in his ear, shoving her fingers deeper inside him, "You like them hearing your whiny little moans, don't you? You want them to hear how much of a slut you are for me. How good you are for Mommy."
All he could do was let out a broken, guttural moan, grinding into her lap in a desperate attempt to get some friction.
She chuckled, squeezing her thighs tightly around his cock. He cried out, jerking in her hold. She felt his cock twitch when he was securely held in place. She hummed, running her hand over the beautiful red skin of her boy's backside.
"Color?" She hummed, stroking his spine.
"G-green, I'm green, mommy please," he choked out, and she shushed him gently, running her fingers through his hair.
"You wanna come, baby? Wanna come for Mommy?"
He nodded frantically, tears running down his face and onto the cushion.
"What was that," she mocked, squeezing his ass hard to hear him cry out, "Mommy couldn't hear you."
"Yes, Mommy, please," he moaned, squirming in her hold, "Mommy please let me come."
She hummed, pretending to think it over.
"Okay, baby. Since you've been such a good boy for Mommy, you can come whenever you're ready. On your back."
She released her hold on him, and he scurried to obey, flipping over onto his back as she requested.
"No moving, baby. Mommy's gonna make you feel good."
He whimpered as she climbed over him, rubbing herself over his shaft.
He threw his head back and squeezed his eyes shut as she lowered herself onto him, tears leaking down his face. She rubbed them away with the first roll of her hips, grabbing his hands in her own and holding them down above his head, fingers intertwined.
She nuzzled his cheek, kissing all of his new tears away. He was overwhelmed and safe, underneath her. The fabric of the cushions felt prickly and cool against the sensitive skin of his ass and thighs. She was over him, all around him, warm and wet and safe. She felt like home, and he lost track of what was coming out of his mouth, moans and whimpers and embarrassing calls of "Mommy."
She shushed him and nuzzled him, kissing away his tears of overstimulation and pinning down his squirming limbs, holding him together as he felt like he was falling apart. She hummed and moved around him until he came into her with a cry, sobbing as she wrapped him into her arms, lifting him to a sitting position so he could bury himself further into her.
She stroked his hair and back as he came down from the intense aftershocks of what he thought might have been the best orgasm of his life. When he finally stopped shaking, she lifted herself off of him and settled back down onto his thighs, wiping away leftover tears and smoothing her hands all over him, soothing twitching muscles.
When he was a little more relaxed, she bent down to retrieve his shirt to clean them up with, carefully getting him up onto shaking legs and guiding him to his bedroom where she could get him properly calmed down and cared for.
She got him bathed and lotioned and dressed, bundled him up in blankets, and fed him a few pieces of fruit and most of a bottle of water. She carded her fingers through his freshly dried hair softly, cuddling him close and letting him burrow into her chest until their bodies had practically melded together into one.
Her good boy.
After that, it took the members a week to look him in the eye. It was unconventional, and it was imperfect, but it was theirs. Sometimes they fought, they were vanilla, they made mistakes, they were too far apart.
But both of them knew that they would always be better together.