daegudrama

[daegudrama]

250128 writing wrap-up:

 worked on: Suck it (2seok x reader)

 word count: 2809

 last sentence(s) written: This is your moment, and you won’t let anyone take it from you.

[daegudrama]

so…. this is what i’ve been working on :’)) hello

[daegudrama]

yall aren’t even ready for the next part 🤭🤭

heart on the window #3 (m) | ksj

title: heart on the window (m) pairing: ksj x reader(f) rating/genre: m (18+) ; smut ; roommates au / streamer/cam boy au / office worker au, childhood rivals to awkward roommates to lovers? au summary: With secrets now revealed in the open, you and Seokjin cross a boundary you two never thought would happen ever before. After this night, you are now trying to figure out how to move forward in this new development in your friendship with him. However this leads to you having more questions about him, his secret lifestyle, and past relationships/hookups. Then, one casually suggestive joke by this man reawakens your competitive nature and rivalry with this man. note: apologies for the delay in getting this chapter out since i've been really busy with my new job. this chapter was 15k words long, and the editing of this was ROUGH. I had come to the conclusion to split it up in half, also so it wouldn't be overwhelming on yall. i tried to avoid this as I wanted this fic to be 5 chapters long, but I couldn't help but want to flesh out the interactions reader has with Seokjin so it became longer than I thought. warnings: mild language, roommate! seokjin, camboy! seokjin deserves its own warning because the vibes are different!, f*ngering, mast*rbation, voyeurism, org*sm, protected s*x, doggy style, s*x toys, fluffy moments, emotional vulnerability, dirty talk, implied adult content streaming (camming), pet names, brat! reader, brat tamer! seokjin drop date: January 20th, 2024, 11:00am pst word count: 8.5k crossposted on ao3 here <- chapter 2 | chapter 4 -> - -

"Then help me, already."

Those words hang in the air, charged and heavy. Jin's eyes widen, his breath hitching.

The flush on his cheeks deepens, spreading down to his neck, and he shifts slightly, as though trying to adjust something—something that's undeniably hardening beneath his loose pajama bottoms.

"O-Okay, fine! I’ll help you," he stammers, rubbing the back of his neck nervously. "But I need you to do something for me first."

You blink at him, heat rushing to your face. "What is it?" you ask cautiously, already dreading whatever is going to come out of his mouth.

He hesitates for only a moment before blurting out, "Play with yourself."

Your jaw drops. "What?"

"You heard me," he says, his voice lower now, more serious. "Use the toy you got there and make yourself come and show it all to me."

Your mind is spinning. "The toy?! S-Seokjin, you’re not being reasonable right now!" you protest, your voice filled with shock and frustration. Teasing you like this feels like the cruelest kind of torture, especially after the spiral of emotions you’ve been through tonight. And for some reason, it feels more embarrassing to use the toy in front of him than your own fingers.

But there’s something about the way he’s looking at you, eyes hooded and lips slightly parted, that sends a thrill through you despite your indignation. This is the Seokjin you know—playful, maddening, and completely impossible.

Someone truly deserving of the title of “childhood rival”.

He leans closer, his voice dipping into that sultry tone you’ve only ever heard on his streams. "You want my help, right? Then show me how badly you need me. I want to see you lose yourself completely. Can you do that for me?"

You swallow hard, your pulse thundering in your ears. You know he’s testing you, pushing you to your limit, and somehow, you can’t bring yourself to back down.

Your breath catches as Seokjin's words settle over you, heavy and weighted with meaning. The challenge in his tone ignites something in you—a mix of defiance and anticipation.

“Fine. But i’ll use my fingers,” you whisper, your voice barely audible. You shift back against the pillows, your heart hammering in your chest. Your hands feel like lead as you tug your shirt up over your stomach, exposing bare skin to the cool air. The fabric gathers just below your breasts, leaving you vulnerable under his gaze.

Seokjin sits at the edge of the bed, his eyes locked onto you with an intensity that makes your pulse race. His lips part slightly, his chest rising and falling in slow, measured breaths. Yet, his hands rest tensely on his thighs, his fingers digging into the fabric of his pants.

“You’re really making me do this,” you mutter, your voice barely above a whisper.

“You’re the one who asked for help,” he replies smoothly, his voice like velvet. “I’m just... motivating you.”

Your fingers move hesitantly at first, brushing the waistband of your shorts before slipping beneath. The heat between your legs is unmistakable, your arousal heightened by his stare. A quiet gasp escapes your lips as your fingers graze over your slick folds.

Seokjin shifts, leaning back just enough for his hand to graze over his own growing arousal. His movements are subtle, but you catch the way his palm presses against himself, his lips twitching at the corner.

"Don’t stop," he murmurs, his voice rougher now. "I want to see everything."

You shudder, your other hand moving up to tug your shirt higher, finally exposing your breasts to the air. Your fingers pinch gently at a nipple, sending a jolt of pleasure through you. The combined sensations of your hands working in tandem leave you trembling, your soft moans filling the room.

Your hand falters slightly, and he notices immediately.

“You’re hesitating,” he says, his tone light but teasing. “Do you need me to guide you, Princess?”

Princess?!

You look at him sharply, your pride flaring. “I don’t need your saving yet.”

He smirks, leaning back slightly. “Oh? Then prove it.”

That’s all the encouragement you need. You close your eyes, shutting out the sight of him, and focus entirely on the building pressure within you with the goal of coming undone. Your movements become more confident and more deliberate. 

His gaze doesn’t leave you, his eyes tracing every movement, every shift of your body. His hand grips himself through his pants now, a soft exhale slipping past his lips. 

Your fingers dip lower, pressing more firmly against your aching core. A whimper escapes you as you circle your clit, your hips bucking into the motion. The pressure builds quickly, spurred on by his intense scrutiny and the quiet groan he lets out as he palms himself.

"That’s it," he says hoarsely, his voice thick with desire. "Don’t hold back. Let me hear how good it feels."

His words spur you on, your movements growing bolder, more deliberate. 

“A-Ah..!”

The pleasure surges, consuming you, until you’re trembling, your release crashing over you with a cry that leaves you gasping.

Three minutes is all it took.

Is it embarrassing it took that short to orgasm? Well, it has been a while since you’ve done this…

For a moment, the room is silent, save for the sound of your heavy breathing. Your body relaxes, sinking into the mattress, and you’re acutely aware of the way Seokjin’s chest heaves, the way his hand still rests over the bulge in his pants, with a slightly darker spot now appearing. His eyes meet yours, filled with admiration and unspoken desire.

You glance at Seokjin, still sitting at the edge of the bed, his dark eyes unwavering as they drink you in.

He hasn’t moved, hasn’t spoken—just watches. Lost in thought. His gaze is molten, his chest rising and falling in measured rhythm. For a fleeting moment, you think he might say something playful, something to break the tension.

You’re about to say something, your voice shaky and uncertain. “S-So what are you—”

Before the words can fully escape, Jin’s gaze flickers briefly to your laptop screen. His eyes widen, and without a word, he gets up suddenly, leaving the room in a hurry. The abruptness of his departure sends a wave of confusion and frustration washing over you.

“H-Hey!” you call after him, your voice tinged with disbelief and hurt. “Why are you leaving?”

Once again, the silence that follows feels deafening, each passing second amplifying the sting of rejection. Your chest tightens as your emotions spiral, the vulnerability of the moment leaving you feeling exposed and betrayed. Did you misread everything? Had you gone too far?

Your mind races, heart pounding as you sit frozen in place, but before you can drown in your thoughts, Jin quickly reappears in the doorway. His chest rises and falls with shallow breaths, his expression now calm yet resolute.

“I’m ending the stream,” he says simply, his voice carrying a quiet determination.

You blink, your breath catching in your throat. “W-What?”

He steps further into the room, his hands curling into fists at his sides as he speaks, each word deliberate. “I forgot I left the stream on pause, so I’m just ending it completely for tonight. No excuses, no coming back later tonight. Because right now, I want enough time to fuck you.”

Your eyes widen as his words sink in, the intensity of his gaze locking you in place. “Holy shit, Jin…”

His lips curve into a soft, almost shy smile, but his eyes remain dark with promise. “You asked for my help, right?” He leans down slightly, his fingers grazing your cheek as his voice lowers to a sultry whisper. “Then let me give you all my attention.”

Oh.

God, why is your heart going crazy over this? It must be the dopamine rush from orgasm or something making you feel this way. Don’t get distracted and waver so easily, Y/N!

“Okay,” You respond shyly as Jin scurries back to his room on the other side of the apartment.

He nearly trips over his own feet as he rushes to his room and towards his desk. His heart is pounding, and not just from the physical effort. The guilt gnaws at him as he pulls up the live stream, his audience still active and buzzing in the chat. The mic clicks on, and he leans into it, his voice soft but apologetic.

“Hey, everyone,” he begins, his usual confident tone replaced with something more subdued. “I’m so sorry to cut this short, but I have important matters to attend to. I really appreciate you all being here tonight, and I promise I’ll make it up to you in the next stream. Thanks for understanding. Take care, okay?”

The disappointment in the chat is instant, messages flooding in:

“Wait, already?!”“Is everything okay, BigTunaMan??”“Hope you’re okay! Take care!”

Jin ends the stream with a quick, guilty glance at the messages still scrolling. He’ll make it up to them later, he decides, but right now, there’s only one thing on his mind.

He bolts back to your room pushing the door open with a soft urgency. You’re now sitting where he left you, still flushed and disheveled, your expression a mixture of confusion and trepidation.

“Did you actually end the live...?” you begin, but the words trail off as he shuts the door behind him and leans against it, chest heaving.

“Yeah, I ended it,” he says simply, his lips quirking into a sheepish smile. “They’re probably going to riot in the comments of the channel, but it’s fine. I told them I had ‘matters to attend to.’”

You raise an eyebrow, trying to suppress a smile. “Matters to attend to? That’s your excuse?”

Jin shrugs, pushing off the door and crossing the room toward you. “What else was I supposed to say? ‘Sorry, everyone, gotta go take care of my horny roommate who’s been watching my streams and needs some help to reach an orgasm’?”

Your cheeks burn, and you groan, burying your face in your hands. “Please don’t remind me how embarrassing this situation is!”

His laughter is soft and warm as he sinks onto the edge of the bed beside you. “It’s not embarrassing,” he says, nudging your shoulder lightly. “Okay, well, maybe a little embarrassing. But only because you’re making it a big deal.”

You peek at him from between your fingers, catching the playful glint in his eyes. “Says the guy who just abandoned his fans mid-stream.”

“Abandoned is a strong word,” he counters, grinning. “I prefer ‘temporarily postponed for the sake of something—or someone—way more important.’”

Again, there it goes. Your heart skipping a beat at the way his gaze softens and the words that come out, the teasing fading into something gentler.

“You’re really just going to leave them hanging for me?” you ask, your voice tinged with incredulity, though the vulnerability in your tone betrays you.

Jin chuckles softly, his fingers brushing yours as he sits closer. “If it means making sure you’re getting your sexual health needs met, I’d even do it again in a heartbeat.”

You stare at him, caught between disbelief and the warmth blooming in your chest. “You’re ridiculous,” you mumble, though there’s no bite to your words.

“And you’re deflecting,” he counters smoothly, his grin softening into something more earnest. “Seriously, are you going to let me help, or do I need to sweet-talk you some more?”

Your breath catches at the way he’s looking at you, the weight of his gaze making it impossible to hide the heat rising in your cheeks. “Help doing what, exactly?” you murmur, your voice quieter now. You know what you want, but damn, it’s hard to say this to this man you’ve known since both of you were kids.

His lips curl into a slow, lopsided smile. “With whatever you need,” he says, his voice dipping into a tone that sends a shiver down your spine. “But you’ll have to tell me where to start.”

The charged silence that follows is nearly suffocating, your mind spinning with everything unsaid. When you finally meet his eyes, the sincerity you find there is enough to make the last of your hesitation crumble.

You groan, now avoiding his intense gaze as your eyes dart around the room. If you look at him for too long, you’re sure you’ll lose control and jump him right here and now.

Taking a shaky breath, you lift your shirt, exposing your breasts to the cool air, and then shimmy out of your shorts and panties, kicking them to the floor. You spread your legs slightly, the pale glow of moonlight streaming through the blinds casting soft shadows over your skin.

“Two options!” you say, your voice trembling but steady enough to convey your intent. You gesture first to your chest, then lower, where his attention seems naturally drawn. “Here or… here. You pick what you’re in the mood for.”

The moment the words leave your mouth, a wave of disbelief crashes over you. How the hell are you being this bold? You were never this bold with Mingi. Where is your shame? Your self-control? Your sanity?

Gone. Completely out the window. 

Potentially down the drain.

Like your life right now.

Jin’s jaw tightens, and his Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows hard. His eyes flicker between your chest and the apex of your thighs, lingering longer than you expect. “You’re full of surprises tonight,” he murmurs, his voice rough, tinged with amusement, and maybe even hunger.

He takes a step closer, his movements unhurried but deliberate, and the air grows heavier with anticipation. His fingers twitch at his sides, as though he’s restraining himself.

“Here’s the thing,” he says, his lips curling into a wicked smile. “I’m in the mood for both.”

Your breath catches as he kneels on the bed, his hands resting on either side of your thighs, caging you in. His gaze burns into yours, dark and smoldering, before he leans in closer, his breath warm against your neck.

“But if you’re going to let me pick,” he continues, his lips ghosting over your skin, “I think I’ll start…here.”

His hands glide up your sides, thumbs grazing the underside of your breasts, as his lips finally find their mark on the curve of your neck. The sensation is electric, a soft moan slipping past your lips as his mouth works its way lower, his tongue tracing patterns over your collarbone.

“Are you sure you can handle this?” he teases, his voice low, vibrating against your skin.

The words stir something in you, and your hands instinctively reach for him, tangling in his hair and pulling him closer. “Just shut up and keep going,” you manage to whisper, your voice shaky but resolute.

Jin chuckles, the sound vibrating against your chest as he presses a kiss to the swell of your breast. “You’re going to regret saying that,” he murmurs, his tone playful yet dripping with promise, before he takes you exactly where you want to go.

Jin’s lips hover above your breast, his breath warm against your sensitive skin, sending shivers down your spine. His eyes flick up to yours, holding your gaze for a moment that feels like an eternity. The intensity in his expression makes your heart race, and your chest rises and falls with uneven breaths.

“You’re trembling already,” he murmurs, his voice deep and velvety, washing over you like a caress. “Is this what you’ve been thinking about? All those nights when you couldn’t look me in the eye?”

“Jin…” you whisper, your voice barely audible, but it’s enough to spur him on.

He smirks faintly, his lips brushing the curve of your breast before his tongue flicks out to tease your nipple. The sensation makes you gasp, your back arching slightly off the bed. His hand cups your other breast, his thumb circling the sensitive peak with painstaking precision.

“Have you ever been treated gently like this before?” he asks, his voice a murmur against your skin. His words are a mix of curiosity and something more, something deeper that sends heat coursing through your veins.

“No…” you admit, your voice hesitant to speak. It’s true—this kind of tenderness, this deliberate worship of your body, is something you’ve never experienced.

His expression softens, though the fire in his eyes remains. “Good,” he says, his tone firm yet gentle. “Then let me show you how it’s supposed to feel.”

He shifts slightly, bringing his other hand to cradle your breast as his plush soft lips close around your nipple. His tongue moves in slow, deliberate circles, drawing sensations from you that make your toes curl. His free hand trails down your side, his touch featherlight, leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake.

You can’t suppress the soft whimper that escapes your lips, and his gaze flicks up to meet yours again, his eyes dark and filled with satisfaction. He sucks lightly, his teeth grazing ever so gently, and the combination of sensations makes your head spin.

“F-Fuck,” you manage to gasp, your hands instinctively gripping the sheets beneath you.

His lips leave your skin momentarily, and he smirks, his voice a husky whisper. “You’re so sensitive…so responsive. It’s beautiful.”

He moves to your other breast, lavishing the same attention, his hand kneading gently while his mouth works its magic. Each movement feels intentional, as if he’s savoring every reaction he draws from you.

Your body feels like it’s on fire, every nerve ending alight with sensation. The slow, deliberate way he’s touching you leaves you breathless, and you find yourself sinking deeper into the mattress, utterly at his mercy.

"You’re doing so good," he murmurs against your skin, his voice barely audible but filled with conviction. "Just like a princess."

Your cheeks burn at the pet name, and you stammer, "I-I'm no princess!"

Jin pulls back slightly, his lips curling into a teasing smile, his breath warm against your chest. "Well, you’re about to get fully treated like one."

Before you can even process his words, his hands slide down your sides, gripping your thighs firmly. He spreads them wider, his gaze locked on your center with an intensity that makes your heart pound.

"Huh? A-Ah—"

Your words dissolve into a gasp as Jin lowers himself, pressing a soft kiss to the sensitive skin of your inner thigh before moving closer to your core. The warmth of his breath against you makes you shudder, anticipation building with every passing second.

And then he dives in, his tongue tracing deliberate, languid strokes that make your back arch and a cry escape your lips.

"Jin!" you gasp, your hands flying to grip the sheets as your body reacts to the overwhelming sensation. “W-Wait…”

He hums in response, the vibration sending sparks through your already sensitive nerves. His hands grip your thighs tighter, holding you in place as his tongue works against you with precision, alternating between broad strokes and focused, teasing flicks.

"You taste even better than I imagined," he murmurs against your skin, his voice low and filled with satisfaction.

You can barely form a coherent thought, let alone a reply. All you can do is surrender to the waves of pleasure coursing through you, your body trembling under his touch. His movements are deliberate, almost reverent, as if he’s worshipping every inch of you.

"Jin, I’m going to—" You choke on your words as he sucks gently, his tongue circling your most sensitive spot. The heat pooling low in your belly tightens, and your hands instinctively reach for him, threading through his hair.

"That's it," he whispers against you, his voice laced with encouragement. "Let go for me, princess. Show me how good I make you feel."

The nickname, once teasing, now feels like a brand, sending you hurtling toward the edge. Your body tightens, and with one final, deliberate stroke of his tongue, you cry out, shattering beneath him.

Jin doesn’t stop immediately, guiding you through the waves of your release, his touch gentle yet insistent. When you finally come down, your body limp and trembling, he presses one last kiss to your thigh before looking up at you.

His lips glisten, his expression a mix of pride and tenderness as he climbs back up to meet your gaze. "See?" he says softly, brushing a strand of hair from your face. "Told you I’d treat you like a princess."

"You’re so evil! How the fuck are you so good at this?!" you gasp breathlessly, your chest rising and falling with every rapid inhale. "Is it the streams you do? Research? Experience? Are you addicted to porn?"

Jin smirks, brushing his hair back casually. "Research and some experience," he replies smoothly, leaning closer until his lips are near your ear, "but ask questions later. For now, I'll give you the final course."

Your breath hitches as he hooks his thumbs into the waistband of his pajama bottoms, pushing them down in one fluid motion. Your eyes widen as you finally see him—his big cock, fully hard and even more impressive than you’d imagined from his streams.

"Holy—" The words slip out before you can stop them, your mouth falling open in a mix of shock and awe.

Jin chuckles, a low, deep sound that reverberates through the room. "Is it bigger than you thought?" he teases, his voice dripping with confidence.

You swallow hard, the heat rushing to your cheeks. Despite the overwhelming sight in front of you, you manage to respond stubbornly, crossing your arms over your chest like you’re unaffected. "I-It’s not that big, but–," you say, though the slight quiver in your voice betrays you.

"Oh, really?" he interrupts, raising a brow, his grin widening. He leans in closer, the tip brushing lightly against your thigh, and you feel the heat radiating from him. "Guess I’ll just have to show you exactly how wrong you are."

Jin’s words hang in the air, thick with some unspoken promise. Before you can say anything, the sound of foil tearing fills the quiet room as he opens a condom he brought from his room early. His eyes are all on you, indulging in your presence.

His intensity is magnetic, and you’re completely captivated as he rolls the condom down over his length, every motion precise and deliberate.

“You’re nervous,” he murmurs, his voice low and soothing. “Don’t be. I’ll take care of you.”

You nod, heart hammering in your chest as he moves closer, his warm hands finding your thighs and guiding them apart gently. The weight of his gaze on you is intoxicating, his thumbs stroking soft circles against your skin as he positions himself at your entrance.

"Relax for me," Jin whispers, his lips brushing the curve of your jaw before trailing down to your neck. The tenderness in his voice melts your tension, and you exhale shakily as he presses forward.

The stretch is startling at first, your body adjusting to his size as he sinks into you slowly, inch by inch. Your hands instinctively clutch at his biceps, your nails digging into his skin as he fills you completely.

“You’re doing so good,” he murmurs, his lips grazing your temple. His voice is filled with awe, like he’s savoring every moment. “Just like that, princess. So perfect.”

You shiver at his words, the nickname making your breath hitch. The sensation is overwhelming but quickly gives way to pleasure as Jin begins to move. His hips roll with a steady rhythm, his body pressed flush against yours.

“Jin,” you gasp, your hands gripping his arms tightly. “It feels… incredible.”

He smiles, his lips curving into a mix of pride and affection. Leaning down, he captures your lips in a kiss that’s deep and consuming, his hips never faltering. Each thrust is deliberate, sending jolts of pleasure through your body, leaving you breathless.

“You’re so beautiful like this,” he breathes against your lips, his hands sliding down to cradle your waist, angling you slightly to deepen his strokes. “Taking me so well.”

You arch into him, your body moving in perfect rhythm with his as his pace quickens. The tension in your core tightens with every thrust, the heat between you building to an almost unbearable level.

Suddenly, he pulls back, his movements careful as he withdraws from within you. “Turn over for me,” Jin says, his voice rough with desire.

You hesitate moving,  as you’re comfortable where you are. But you move anyways, your body trembling with anticipation as you roll onto your stomach, then push yourself up onto your hands and knees. The cool air brushes your skin as you glance back at him nervously.

“Like this?” you ask softly, your voice trembling.

“Exactly like that,” he replies, his large hands trailing over the curve of your hips. He grips them firmly, steadying you as he lines himself up again. “You’re breathtaking.”

The first thrust steals your breath, the angle deeper than before, making your fingers claw at the sheets. Jin groans behind you, his voice husky and raw as he sets a steady pace.

“You feel so good,” he rasps, his hands sliding up your sides before one presses between your shoulder blades, encouraging you to arch your back further. “So tight, so perfect. My perfect princess.”

His words send a jolt through you, a mix of pleasure and emotion. You let out a cry, your body responding to every precise movement. Jin’s grip on your hips tightens as his pace increases, each thrust driving you closer to the edge.

“Jin, I’m so close,” you manage to gasp, your voice shaking as the tension coils tightly in your core.

“Let go for me,” he commands, his voice deep and velvety, full of conviction. “I’ve got you, princess. Let me feel it.”

His words are your undoing. You cry out, your body shuddering as your release washes over you in waves. The pleasure is blinding, leaving you trembling as you collapse onto the mattress, your legs weak and your breathing uneven.

Jin follows moments later, his grip on your hips firm as he thrusts into you one final time, groaning as his own climax overtakes him. He pulls out carefully, disposing of the condom before lying down beside you.

Without hesitation, he wraps his arms around you, pulling you into his chest. His lips press soft kisses to your forehead, his voice a soothing balm in the quiet room. “You really are a princess,” he murmurs, his tone warm and affectionate. “And you do deserve to be treated like one.”

A forehead kiss and pillow talk?! Woah, woah, woah.

Is this some kind of post-nut clarity affecting him? 

You’re caught off guard by it completely. It feels a little too intimate. Too personal. Well, maybe you can’t say much because he literally just fucked you missionary and doggy style.

But you’ve never seen Jin be this affectionate before—it’s a bit jarring. 

Maybe he’s like this in his past relationships? Or situationships? Well you don’t know much or anything about that. You haven’t seen him since you were like 10 or 11.

You don’t know if you like this or not, but you’re scared to find out. He's a professional sweet-talker by now, thanks to camming and appealing to his audience, so maybe this is just part of his act while helping you. You try to brush it off and play along. Be the princess to his Mario or whatever.

You lean into his warmth despite your swirling doubts. The exhaustion from the emotional rollercoaster of the night begins to take hold, and your eyes grow heavy. Just as you’re on the verge of slipping into sleep, a thought nags at you.

“Why did you come into my room in the first place?” you mumble groggily.

Jin’s chest rumbles with a soft laugh. “Oh, right. It was to fix a Mario figure I have…”

Your brow furrows as a vague memory stirs. You recall seeing it on his desk in passing, that same little Super Mario figurine you had gifted him during Secret Santa in elementary school.

Back then, you’d been disappointed when you drew his name out of the hat. He was always difficult to please, never straightforward about his feelings. Even when he opened the gift, his silly and stubborn demeanor left you unsure if he liked it at all.

But now, knowing that he’s kept it all this time—and was worried enough about it breaking to interrupt his stream—it strikes a chord in you. It’s endearing, even sweet.

A small smile tugs at your lips, and before sleep fully claims you, you whisper, “You’re such a dork, Jin.”

He chuckles softly, adjusting the blanket around you with gentle care. “Yeah, but just know I’m the best dork you’ll ever meet,” he replies, his voice filled with warmth. His gaze lingers on you for a moment before he adds, “So, was I able to help you?”

You peek up at him through tired eyes, the corner of your lips quirking up despite yourself. “I guess you were able to do the job,” you tease, your voice barely above a whisper.

“I’ll take that as a yes.”

The sunlight filters softly through your blinds, stirring you from a surprisingly deep sleep. You stretch languidly, letting out a small yawn as your mind catches up to the events of the previous night. Your hand instinctively reaches out to the other side of the bed, but all you’re met with is empty sheets.

You sit up, confused, until a rich, buttery aroma wafts into your room. Pancakes?

Curiosity tugs you from the warmth of your blankets, and you pad out of your room toward the kitchen. The sight awaiting you stops you in your tracks: Jin, dressed in a loose white t-shirt and blue plaid pajama bottoms, flipping pancakes in a pan with an almost childlike enthusiasm.

“Good morning!” he greets you brightly, turning his head to flash you an impossibly wide smile. The sight of him so animated and cheerful is almost jarring compared to his usual composed, teasing demeanor.

You blink, trying to reconcile this sunny disposition with the Jin you know. “Uh… good morning?” you reply cautiously, stepping further into the kitchen.

Jin places a perfectly golden pancake onto a growing stack, humming a tune under his breath. “I figured after intruding on you last night, I owed you a proper breakfast,” he says casually, though the playful glint in his eye betrays him.

“Oh, why, thank you…” You cross your arms, leaning against the counter as you watch him work. “You’re surprisingly in a good mood though,” you remark, your tone more curious than accusatory. “What’s with the pep in your step?”

He shrugs, pouring more batter into the pan. “Can’t a guy just be happy?”

You raise an eyebrow. “You? Happy first thing in the morning? That’s new.”

Jin chuckles, setting the spatula down for a moment to turn and face you fully. “What can I say? Last night was… enlightening to say the least,” he says, his voice dipping ever so slightly. “Plus, I like taking care of people I care about.”

Your cheeks warm at his words, and you shift your weight, pretending to focus on the stack of pancakes. But instead of letting the moment pass, a question burns on your tongue, one you’ve been dying to ask since last night.

“Is it fine if I ask you a question?” you venture, glancing up at him hesitantly.

Jin doesn’t miss a beat, flipping the last pancake with practiced ease. “Go for it.”

You take a breath, crossing your arms as if to brace yourself. “How did you... start doing this camboy thing?”

His hands still for a moment, and he sets the spatula down carefully before turning to face you. “You really want to know?”

“Well, yeah!” you reply quickly, gesturing vaguely. “I mean, I would have never expected you to do and be into this kind of thing... let alone be good at, you know, sex.” The last words come out as an embarrassed mumble, and you immediately wish you could take them back.

Jin’s ears turn a deep shade of red, his confident demeanor faltering slightly. “You think I’m good at sex?” he teases, though his voice cracks just a little, betraying his flustered state.

You groan, covering your face with both hands. “That’s not the point! Answer the question, Seokjin.”

He laughs softly, the sound warm and genuine, and it helps ease some of your own tension. “Alright, alright,” he says, leaning against the counter with his arms crossed. “It started as a joke, actually. Do you remember Yoongi Min? He was another Korean kid from the class next door in grade school.”

The name doesn’t really ring a bell, but you do recall a face of a boy who has cat-like features and would talk to him occasionally, being silly and all. “I honestly don’t remember.”

“Well, even after I moved away, I managed to stay friends with him and we ended up going to the same college.”

“I see,” you murmur.

“And a few months back, I invited him over and we got drunk. He knows about my gaming streams, but he told me, ‘You know the groans you make while playing rage bait games sound like moans? People would pay a lot of money for that. You should do porn.’”

“That’s insane!?” you exclaim, your eyes wide in disbelief.

Jin chuckles at your reaction. “Yeah, it’s crazy. But somehow, he convinced me to start doing camboy streams. I thought it’d be funny, so I did. But then... people started watching. Like, a lot of people.”

You lower your hands slightly, peeking at him as he talks. “So, it just... snowballed from there?”

He nods, a grin tugging at the corner of his lips. “Pretty much. At first, it was all a joke, but then I realized there was a real market for... well, more intimate stuff. I did my research, figured out what people liked, and I guess I just got good at it.”

You tilt your head, studying him. “Did it ever feel weird? Or wrong?”

Jin’s expression softens, and he shakes his head. “Not really. I mean, I don’t do anything I’m not comfortable with and my face is hidden. It’s given me a lot of confidence too, honestly. Knowing people like what I put out there? It’s kind of empowering.”

You chew on your bottom lip, processing his words. “I guess that makes sense,” you say quietly. “I just... it’s still so surreal, knowing you of all people do this.”

He smirks, reaching over to ruffle your hair. “Life’s full of surprises, princess. Besides, you can’t say you didn’t enjoy the results of my ‘research.’”

Your face burns, and you swat his hand away. “Don’t push your luck, Seokjin.”

He laughs, returning to the stove to plate the pancakes. “Fair enough. Now sit down before your breakfast gets cold.”

You and Jin sit across from each other at the small dining table, the smell of freshly made pancakes still lingering in the air. You’re halfway through your second one, drizzling extra syrup onto the fluffy stack as Jin sips his coffee. His cheerful demeanor this morning is infectious, and you find yourself smiling more than you’d expected. The conversation drifts to other trivial topics—memories from high school, your shared disdain for the overly competitive campus trivia nights, and even a brief debate over the best Mario Kart track. It’s light, easy, and comfortable, and for a moment, you almost forget the weight of everything that happened between you two last night.

Jin leans back against the counter, finishing the last of his coffee before setting the mug in the sink. “Anyway, I should head out. I’m meeting Yoongi at the cafe to get some work done.”

You nod, masking the flicker of disappointment that he’s leaving. “Oh, right. You said he works at a music label?”

“Yeah, he’s a producer there. He’s been helping me figure out some... creative stuff on the side,” Jin says vaguely, grabbing his bag. “I’ll be back in a few hours. Don’t burn the place down while I’m gone.”

“Very funny,” you mutter, rolling your eyes as he heads toward the door. “Tell this Yoongi I said hi, even if I don’t remember him.”

Jin smirks. “Will do, princess.” With that, he’s gone, leaving you alone with your thoughts.

The afternoon stretches before you, and you attempt to focus on applying for jobs, but your mind betrays you. Every time you start to type out a cover letter or tweak your resume, your memories wander back to last night.

The way Jin’s hands felt, the way he touched you like you were something precious—it’s impossible to shake. You keep replaying it in your head, trying to lock the details into your memory as if freezing the moment will keep it from fading.

It was the best sex you’ve ever had, and you can’t deny it. Mingi, your ex, couldn’t hold a candle to whatever magical touch Jin seems to possess. And yet, doubt nags at you.

This was a one-time thing, you tell yourself, even as a pang of longing blooms in your chest. He probably only did it out of pity—he saw how lonely you were, how desperate. There’s no way it meant anything to him. Not when he does this as part of his side job.

The thought twists uncomfortably in your stomach. Jin’s side gig as a camboy, while surprising, also raises questions you can’t ignore. Does he...ever do this with other people? You've seen posts on Twitter from OnlyFans creators teasing "special guests" in their content. Is Jin the type to collaborate?

Your curiosity itches at you, relentless and demanding. You open your laptop and navigate to the site he uses. His page is easy enough to find again, but as you scroll, your questions only multiply. There are videos locked behind a subscription paywall, tantalizing thumbnails blurred just enough to leave you guessing.

You hesitate, biting your lip. Spending money you don’t have to satisfy your curiosity feels reckless, but the mystery gnaws at you. Does he do this with others? Was last night just practice for his real work?

But you can’t bring yourself to click. Not yet, at least. With a frustrated sigh, you slam your laptop shut and bury your face in your hands.

Why do you even care? Last night was just a one night type of thing. You don’t see yourself with Seokjin anyways.

And yet…

Overthinking is what got in the way of your last relationship until it all came crashing down.

Early in the evening, Jin returns from his outing and sees you folding your laundry in the living room. The smell of Korean soybean paste soup fills the room, making his expression soften when he notices your prepared meal.

“You made dinner?” he asks, surprised.

He sets his bag down by the couch and moves to join you.

You shrug, trying to act casual as you fold another shirt. “Thought it’d be a nice way to say thanks. You know...for everything.” 

You don’t know how to make many Korean foods, but this one is one you learned how to make from Yunjin in college. 

His lips twitch into a small smile. “Well, thanks. It smells amazing.”

You glance at him as he ladles a bowl of soup, taking a seat and diving in eagerly. “How was your meet-up with Yoongi?”

“Not bad,” he says between bites. “I told him that you found out my secret.”

You freeze, your eyes widening. “Y-You what?”

“N-Not how I found you flicking your bean and how we had sex!” he adds hastily, waving his spoon.

Your shoulders slump in relief, but something about his nonchalant tone makes your cheeks burn all over again.

Still, this feels like the perfect opening for what’s been nagging at your thoughts all afternoon. You clear your throat, hesitating only briefly before asking, “Wait, Jin, there’s something I’m curious about.”

“Go for it.”

You hesitate, your hands pausing mid-fold. “Since you do solo cam work...I was wondering if you’ve ever done collaborations with other people before. Like, working with camgirls, by any chance?”

Jin raises an eyebrow, leaning back in his chair. “Why? Are you curious to know about my sex life?”

“H-Hey! It’s not that at all!” you stammer, quickly looking away. “It’s just...” How do you say this without sounding weird—or jealous? You fumble for words, finally settling on, “You’re so good at what you do, so I was wondering...where you got your experience from.”

A flicker of something crosses Jin’s face—amusement, maybe, or pride. He sets his spoon down, tilting his head thoughtfully. “Well, I actually was dating someone a few months before I started my gaming streaming.”

“You were?”

“Yeah,” he says, his tone softening. “I met her at my first job, working at an entertainment agency. We dated for a few years, but we ended it mutually. It wasn’t anything dramatic—just... one of those things, you know?”

You nod slowly, absorbing this new information. “So...did she teach you some of this stuff?”

He chuckles, a low, warm sound. “Some of it. But a lot of what I know now came after we broke up. Research, self-practice...some trial and error. I guess it just stuck.”

Your cheeks flush, your mind inadvertently wandering back to last night. You still can’t quite wrap your head around how someone can be that good. “I see.”

Jin’s gaze lingers on you for a moment before he speaks up again, clearly sensing your lingering curiosity.

“So, your answer to the question about you doing collaborations with camgirls is...?” you press, your voice tinged with both curiosity and hesitation.

He leans back in his chair, arms crossing over his chest. “I haven’t.”

“Really?!”

“Yeah,” he says with a casual shrug. “I mean, I’m a pretty confident guy, and I think I’m handsome, but doing collabs with random or established camgirls or OnlyFans girls makes me nervous.”

You blink at his admission, letting out a small breath you didn’t realize you were holding. It almost feels like a sigh of relief. Wait—why are you relieved?

Jin notices, his lips quirking into a teasing smile. “Why did you ask? Did you want to appear in a collab with me on Chaturbate?”

“Huh?” Your face heats up instantly. 

Woah, woah, woah. Wait, where is this coming from?!

“You’re not a camgirl by any means,” he continues, his tone softer now. “But after last night, it got me...thinking.” His voice dips into something shyer, almost uncertain, as he rubs the back of his neck.

Your stomach flips at his words, though you can’t tell if it’s from embarrassment or something else entirely. “Thinking about what?” you manage, your voice barely above a whisper.

Jin hesitates, clearly bracing himself. “Thinking about how good we were together. And...maybe how it’d feel to do that again. With you.”

His words hang in the air, and for a moment, you’re both silent. In his head, he’s already convinced you’re going to shut this out and call him a pervert, but you don’t.

“So you want to have sex…or do acts in front of the camera… for your BigTunaMan channel and your fans?” you ask, your voice slower, more deliberate, letting the question hang heavily in the air.

If you were any other girl, you’d probably be storming out of the room right now, completely scandalized. But instead, there’s a strange buzz low in your stomach, a heat you don’t entirely want to admit. Why are you into this?

Your heart pounds in your chest as you search Jin’s face for his reaction. He’s caught off guard, sure, but there’s a flicker in his expression—something unsure, something vulnerable, but undeniably intrigued.

The thought rolls over in your mind: What if you did this? What if you let yourself step into his world? There’s an allure to it, a kind of rebellious excitement. The risk, the intimacy, the sheer wildness of the idea—it pulls at you, even if you don’t fully understand why. And then there’s Jin. If this is an excuse to relive last night’s intensity, to feel his touch again, to share that connection—hell, maybe you’d risk more than you should.

The words leave your mouth before you can second-guess them. “Do I get paid?”

“Huh?!” Jin’s voice cracks, his shock palpable as he straightens, staring at you like you’ve grown a second head.

You tilt your head, feigning nonchalance, even as your pulse thunders in your ears. “If I help you with your little channel,” you say slowly, almost teasingly, “will you pay me? I mean, it’d be an easy job in the meantime until I find an actual one and it’ll provide some money for me. And as long as I’m not showing my face, there’s no real risk, right?”

His face flushes deep red, and he stammers, “H-Hold on! I wasn’t actually serious about it, I was just—” He pauses, his hands gesturing aimlessly as if trying to find the right words. “Why are you agreeing to this so quickly?!”

You shrug, leaning back against the chair  with a smirk you’re barely holding back. “I mean, for starters, it sounds kinda fun.”

“Fun?!” he repeats, incredulous.

“Yeah,” you say simply, watching the color climb his neck. “I’ll get paid—maybe—still waiting for you to confirm that,” you add, arching a brow. “And…I’ll also finally forget about my loser ex-boyfriend.”

His jaw drops slightly, and he stares at you like you’ve just flipped his world upside down. You don’t miss the way his eyes narrow briefly, processing your words. Something shifts in his expression—a flicker of something darker, hungrier.

“You’re really serious about this, aren’t you?” he asks, his voice quieter now, but with a sharp edge of disbelief.

You hold his gaze, trying not to let the tension unravel you. “Depends,” you say softly, almost a challenge. “Are you?”

The silence between you crackles with electricity. You swear you can hear your heartbeat in the quiet. Jin’s lips part, and his tongue darts out briefly to wet them, a nervous tell that makes your stomach flip.

“I mean,” he finally starts, his voice almost hesitant, “I was half-joking, but now you’re making this sound real.”

You let out a soft laugh, though your voice trembles slightly. “Well, if it did become real, at least you know I’m down.”

His mouth opens slightly, like he wants to say something but doesn’t know where to start. The vulnerability on his face makes your heart skip a beat. Jin, usually so smooth, so confident, looks completely caught off guard.

“You’re not just doing this to distract yourself from your ex, are you?” he asks after a moment, his voice softer, more serious.

You pause, the weight of his question settling between you. “Maybe a little,” you admit honestly. “But also…because I trust you, Jin.”

His gaze softens further, his brows knitting together like he’s trying to make sense of you.

“And,” you continue, your voice dropping, “if last night was any indication, I know we’d kill it together. I will also not catch feelings for my own rival.”

His breath catches, and you don’t miss the way his fingers curl slightly against his thighs, as if restraining himself.

“You’re dangerous, you know that?” he sighs finally, his voice low and rough.

You smirk, leaning forward slightly, closing the space between you. “Only when I want to be.”

Jin shakes his head, a soft, disbelieving laugh escaping him. 

You feel like you’ve won in this teasing war, until suddenly, his expression changes.

His eyes narrow slightly, a smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. It’s a familiar look, one that pulls at an old, buried memory—one of him standing across from you in the schoolyard, arms crossed, with that same cocky grin plastered on his face. Back then, he was always looking for ways to one-up you, always trying to prove he was better, faster, smarter. Jin loved a challenge, and you were his favorite target.

But now? Now, that grin feels different. It feels heavier, laced with something sharper, something more daring.

“Then let’s do it,” he says, his voice low and filled with conviction.

Your stomach flips, a mix of excitement and nerves tumbling inside you. You search his face, trying to gauge if he’s joking or if he’s actually serious this time. The intensity in his gaze tells you everything you need to know.

“Wait, you’re not messing with me?” you ask, your voice coming out a little smaller than you’d like.

Jin leans forward, his elbows resting on his knees, closing the distance between you. His smirk softens into something more genuine, but his eyes—dark and steady—don’t waver. “You think I’d back down from a challenge? Come on, you should know me better than that by now.”

Your breath hitches. The air between you is thick, charged with a tension that feels impossible to ignore.

“You’re really serious about this,” you say softly, more a statement than a question.

“Why wouldn’t I be?” he counters smoothly, tilting his head slightly. “You threw it out there, and I’m not one to half-ass things. If we’re doing this, we’re doing it right.”

The confidence in his tone sends a shiver down your spine. You swallow hard, your throat suddenly dry.

“Okay,” you say, trying to match his energy, though your voice wavers just slightly. “But just so we’re clear—this is strictly business. No funny business.”

You refuse to catch feelings for him, so putting it out there now that this is just a fun sex work type of job with an old friend is the boundary you’re making.

Jin lets out a sharp laugh, leaning back against the couch. “Funny business? Do you even hear yourself?” He grins, his teeth flashing. “You’re the one who just volunteered to do this. If anything, I should be worried about you crossing the line.”

Excuse you?!

“Me?!” you sputter, heat rushing to your cheeks. “You’re the professional here!”

“Exactly,” he says, his voice dripping with smugness. “Which means I know how to keep it professional. You, on the other hand…” He trails off, his grin widening as your blush deepens. 

You huff, crossing your arms over your chest. “Fine. Whatever. Just tell me when we’re starting so I can be prepared.”

Jin leans forward again, his smirk softening into something more genuine. “Tomorrow night,” he says simply.

“Tomorrow night?!”

“What? You said you wanted to do this. No point in waiting.”

You can’t argue with that. He clocked you right there.

Your head spins at the thought, but the look in Jin’s eyes grounds you. This is happening. Whether you’re ready or not, you’ve officially entered his world. Oh, fuck.

-

-

-

a/n: it's been a month since i updated the series with chapter 2... once again, totally apologize for the delay. i really thought i'd have more time, which during christmas time, i kind of did (which is why i wrote ch3 all throughout that time). But once the new year started, my manager had me like a pack mule and completing random heavy loaded tasks, so the process of revising and editing the 15k words i original wrote for the chapter became... impossible. i tend to hate splitting chapters unless things feel to jarring of a transition within one chapter that it would make sense for it to become a whole other chapter. But now considering the many shitty tasks I may get in the near future as well as to not overload you with a load of shit going on in one chapter... it made sense to just split it off. Ch 4 (which is the 2nd half of this chapter) will be release in 2 weeks confirmed! i'll finish doing some edits for that and i'll also start on ch 5. This series will end with chapter 6 for sure! i would like to move on from this fic and get some of my other ones ready and cooked up!

➸ let me know what you think OR join the taglist for future works! ➸ check out my masterlist for other fics I have made

[daegudrama]

october 8th !!!

i expect a full rundown in the gc

IT'S EASIER TO TELL YOU HERE djskjfhsdljfsdl

october 8th is a very short one shot fic where reader is studying abroad for a year (i can't remember if i decided Paris or some other european city, i don't think i decided at all). The study abroad program has a pen pal program where you can exchange letters with fellow international students and make friends, so she enters it and gets paired with someone from Korea. the program has them exchanging letters for 3 months and she starts falling in love with the person writing the letters... and eventually they meet. it's revealed his name is actually kim taehyung. he confesses he likes her, and she says she feels the. same. they begin dating (cue the smut, and cute dates, etc.)

despite how happy things are, fate has other things in store for them... and things will not end well, is all i can say! muahahahahahahaha

[daegudrama]

works in progress game💥

rules: post your wips as just the titles, and if you get any asks about a title, talk about that wip!

ahhh @kithtaehyung tagged me in this so i had to participate.

a/n: i'm gonna be honest, most of the other wips (besides HotW and A(myg)dala) have become just forgotten pieces of writings that just live in my head (or have been living in my head, in the case of "to the moon"). i don't think they're very intriguing ideas but if you'd like to hear me out on some, you are very welcomed to ask! <333

🍓 wip ask game: any wips from here that you want to know more about? 🍓

tagging some of my fav writers on here: @theharrowing @slut4jeon @yoongifis @jeonsweetpea @personasintro @yoongiofmine @eoieopda

[daegudrama]

SOPE???? NAMKOOK!!! I need deets on both!!!

Its funny you chose those two because they both have major character death which I usually hate but I digress 😃

homesick (sope) my fic overarchingly about yoongi coping with the death of his childhood best friend and soulmate who he was supposed to debut with as a rap duo

all along (namkook) tackles grief, second chances and growth after that death of their former bandmate. this brings the group back together after nearly ten years

[daegudrama]

works in progress game💥

rules: post your wips as just the titles, and if you get any asks about a title, talk about that wip!

a/n: i was tagged by mittens @newmittens! uhhhh… i know what it looks like🥴 and i left out 8 which i’ll put on a reblog bc of formatting but yeah. well. there you all have it😂 this isn’t even including all the random little ideas i have, too. note: 3tan chrono is the working title for 3tanfugue

💌 wip ask game: which title are you eyeing? 💌

tagging, no pressure as always, just miss a lot of you: @aaagustd @sailoryooons @yoonia @sugaurora @joonary @suga-kookiemonster @hamsterclaw @wwilloww @raplinesmoon @xjoonchildx @jjungkookislife @daegudrama @kingofbodyrolls @melancholy-of-nadia & anyone that wants to do it!

[daegudrama]

works in progress game💥

rules: post your wips as just the titles, and if you get any asks about a title, talk about that wip!

thank you for tagging me @kithtaehyung 😚

Note: timer au is actually titled somewhere after this I am just far too lazy to change the title. ❤️‍🔥Send your burning questions ❤️‍🔥

I really thought I had a lot more of these but I guess I haven't made docs for a lot of my ideas.... 😅

tags: I have no one to tag so anyone who wants to do this please do!! I'd love to see

[daegudrama]

[393/547] — until we meet again, jungkook ♡

[daegudrama]

[364/547] — until we meet again, jungkook ♡

[daegudrama]

Current WIPs

Route 613

Namjoon x Reader/Yoongi x Reader/Vmin x Reader

Reader wants to be the very best Pokémon trainer there ever was. Her first stop in that journey is Paldea University home to a myriad of higher education. Still working to get over her ex boyfriend, Yoongi, reader forms new connections while making a few questionable decisions along the way. Each battle bringing her closer to the glory she's always dreamed of. Will she succeed in becoming champion or will outside forces stop her from achieving her goal?

Status: Published

Shift

Woosung x Reader

Two rival college bands—Fearless and The Rose—are on the brink of their big break. You, the bold lead vocalist of Fearless, have a complicated history with Woosung, the charismatic frontman of The Rose. What started as a one-night fling during a party has turned into a messy, secret relationship. As both bands battle for a life-changing record deal at the upcoming Battle of the Bands, the tension between you and Woosung grows, especially when your chemistry starts to spill over into your professional rivalry. Amid stolen moments and hidden feelings, the stakes are high, and the lines between competition and romance begin to blur. But when it all comes to a head, will you risk it all for love—or let your dreams slip away?

Status: Unpublished

Homesick

Yoongi x Hoseok

After losing his lifelong best friend and first love, Hoseok, in a tragic accident, Yoongi is left to navigate a life he never imagined living alone. Their dreams of debuting as a rap duo shattered, Yoongi channels his grief into music, rising to fame as Agust D—but success feels empty without Hoseok by his side. Ten years later, Yoongi still struggles to move on, haunted by the love they shared and the life they never got to live. When words fail, music and an unspoken promise to keep Hoseok’s memory alive become Yoongi’s only solace.

Status: Unpublished

Somewhere After This

Yoongi x Reader

When your soulmate timer hits zero, the last person you expect is Min Yoongi—your brother Seokjin’s new best friend. Yoongi doesn’t seem thrilled about the revelation, and with Jin’s overprotective nature, neither of you can risk him finding out. Trapped at the lake house for the summer, you and Yoongi are forced to hide your connection, sneaking stolen glances and whispered conversations while pretending nothing has changed. As the tension builds, keeping your secret from everyone—especially your brother—becomes the biggest challenge of all.

Status: Unpublished

All Along

Namjoon x Jungkook

Ten years after their band went on hiatus, tragedy brings the former members back together, forcing them to confront old wounds, buried regrets, and the weight of everything they lost along the way. Amidst grief and nostalgia, Namjoon and Jungkook find themselves drawn back to each other, navigating the fragile line between what was and what could have been.

Status: Unpublished

[daegudrama]

heart on the window #2 (m) | ksj

title: heart on the window (m) pairing: ksj x reader(f) rating/genre: m (18+) ; smut ; roommates au / streamer/cam boy au / office worker au, childhood rivals to awkward roommates to lovers? au summary: Your life takes a wild turn after discovering what you believe is Seokjin's risqué secret, only for the following nights to leave you doubting your own reality. Was it loneliness and a shattered heart that conjured this delusion? As you try to move on, leaving your assumptions behind, you and Seokjin grow closer—until a late-night slip-up unravels everything... literally. note: it took me almost a month to update i have been busy at work.; i've edited this but there still may be some grammatical errors so apologies in advanced. warnings: roommate!Seokjin being such a green flag, adult content live streaming (camwork), explicit solo masturbation (from jin and also reader POV), voyeurism, descriptive use of toys, dirty talk, reader's emotional turmoil, Seokjin being perceptive and teasing, confrontation, sexual frustration, sexual tension. mild language, some implied sexual fantasizing, jin POV in the last quarter of the chapter drop date: December 20th, 2024, 12:00pm pst word count: 9.6k chapter 1 | chapter 3 crossposted on ao3 here

–

That good sleep that you were anticipating?

Gone.

Were you able to get some sleep last night?

Absolutely not.

Every time you’d close your eyes, all you would see is THAT: Seokjin Kim, sitting in his chair, stroking his cock with slow, deliberate motions, his face caught somewhere between bliss and control while a virtual audience eagerly watched.

Oh god, what the fuck did you get yourself into? 

You can’t just continue living here like you didn’t see that.

Absolutely no way–

“Did you get a good sleep last night?”

The sound of Seokjin’s voice slices through the chaotic mind-fuck cluster of your thoughts, dragging you back to the present. You blink, startled, your mind scrambling for something—anything—to say.

“Huh? Oh, yeah, it was…nice,” you reply, though your tone is as flat as week-old opened grapefruit Spin Drift you’ve left out on the counter countless times in the past.

Seokjin chuckles, leaning against the counter with his arms crossed, giving you a knowing look. “That doesn’t sound very convincing,” he remarks before turning back toward the kitchen. You watch him as he grabs a carton of eggs, a frying pan, and other utensils with easy confidence, as though nothing is out of the ordinary.

Meanwhile, your head is spinning.

Does he have any idea what you saw? No, of course not. How could he? You clutch your mug of coffee tighter, willing yourself to keep calm and act normal, even though “normal” feels like a foreign concept right now.

Seokjin cracks an egg against the side of the pan with one hand, a skill that feels unnecessarily showy, and tosses the shell in the trash without missing a beat. “So, what’s your plan for today?”

“My plan?” 

“Yeah, you know. Moving in, settling down. Unpacking those boxes.” He gestures with the spatula toward the pile of boxes you had left in the living room yesterday. “Or are you just going to live out of them for the next few months?”

You force out a weak laugh, trying to mask your unease. “I’ll get to them soon. Or well, eventually.”

Seokjin glances at you over his shoulder, his expression unreadable. “Yeah, you sure you’re okay? You seem… distracted.”

Distracted? That’s putting it lightly. You practically choked on your own thoughts all night, trying to process what you’d stumbled upon. Now here he is, looking every bit as composed and charming as ever, completely unaware of how he’s upended your mental state.

“Just a lot on my mind from the shit I’ve been going through,” you say vaguely, hoping he’ll just think about what you’ve previously told him and won’t press further.

“Fair enough,” he replies, flipping the eggs in the pan with a practiced flick of his wrist. “By the way, if you need anything for your room, feel free to let me know. I’ve got some spare furniture in storage if you need extra shelves or whatever.”

“Thanks,” you mumble, staring at your coffee as if it holds the answers to your predicament.

You spend the rest of breakfast in tense silence, with Seokjin humming softly to himself as he cooks. Every so often, you catch yourself stealing a glance at him—his broad shoulders, the black t-shirt that loosely fits his body, his easy movements, the way his hair falls messily over his forehead. And every time, your mind cruelly throws you back to that image from last night.

You barely touch your toast, and when Seokjin finally sets his plate in the sink and announces he’s heading out to work in the office since he has some meetings later this afternoon, you feel a wave of relief so strong it’s almost embarrassing.

As the front door clicks shut behind him, you slump against the counter, exhaling a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding.

What are you going to do? How are you supposed to face him every day without your mind going there?

If there’s anything that helps clear your mind, it’s organizing. The chaos of your thoughts seems to calm when you’re sorting, categorizing, and arranging. And thank god you have a lot of that to do right now with all the boxes cluttering your room and spilling into the living room.

Determined to regain some sense of control, you dive into it. First, the essentials—clothing, toiletries, and the work necessities you hope to use again someday. You find a rhythm: open, sort, fold, stack, repeat. The act becomes a form of meditation, letting you focus on the task rather than… other things.

After about two hours, just as you’re folding a stack of sweaters, your phone buzzes with an incoming FaceTime call. Your dear best friend Yunjin’s photo flashes across the screen.

You swipe to answer, her bright, cheerful face filling the screen instantly.

“Hey girl!!” she chirps, holding her phone up at an angle that shows a bustling street lined with shops and people.

“Hey, Yunjin!” you say, unable to hide your grin. “Haven’t seen your beautiful face in awhile. What are you up to?”

“I’m out shopping in Japantown,” she says, spinning her phone around to give you a quick view of colorful storefronts and an adorable bakery. “And I saw this cute Moomin plush keychain. It reminded me of you, so I’m gonna gift it you!”

A Gift?! 

Your eyes widen. “N-No! It’s fine!”

Yunjin’s smile doesn’t falter. “Oh, stop it. I want to. Plus, it’ll give me an excuse to go visit you.” Yunjin lives a couple of hours away from you, so you don’t get to see her as often as you used to during college.

Despite her kindness, you feel a pang of guilt. Being unemployed has left you hyperaware of money, and the idea of your friend spending her hard-earned cash on you—without expecting anything in return—feels unbearable. But that’s just how she is. That’s just…Yunny.

“Really, you don’t have to,” you say, even as a part of you knows arguing with her is pointless.

“Too late!” she sing-songs, flipping the camera around to show the tiny Moomin plush with its sweet little face and scarf. “Tell me this isn’t so you.”

It is. It absolutely is.

You sigh, shaking your head but unable to keep from smiling. “Okay, fine. But at least let me treat you to a coffee.”

“Deal,” Yunjin says with a wink before turning the camera back to her. “So, how’s it going with your new place? Settling in okay?”

Your mind flashes to Seokjin, to the events of last night, and you swallow hard. “Uh, yeah. It’s… nice. Just getting things sorted.”

Yunjin squints at the screen, her expression turning suspicious. “You sound weird. What’s going on?”

Should you tell her? Absolutely not. She’d think the whole situation was bizarre—and worse, she’d probably call you weird for sticking around to watch him do that. You quickly decide to change the topic.

“Yunny, is there really no way I can stay with you for a bit of time?” you groan, leaning against the pile of clothes you’d been folding.

Yunjin’s brow furrows. “Oh, why? You don’t like your new place?”

“It’s… fine,” you hedge, glancing toward your door as if Jin might somehow overhear. “I just… I don’t know. It’d be nice to have you around again like old times.”

The truth is, you don’t want to leave this city. It’s the only place where the kind of opportunities you’re looking for exist. And besides, you love it here—the energy, the atmosphere, the food scene. Nothing else in or out of state even comes close.

But if moving meant getting away from the strange situation you’ve landed yourself in, maybe you’d consider it.

“Uh, well, sadly, no,” Yunjin says with a slight pout. “I thought one of my housemates was moving out to live with her boyfriend, but it looks like that was all talk. She’s staying put for now. They probably wouldn’t be okay with temporary couch surfing either.”

That makes sense.

“Oh,” you reply, deflated. “Okay.”

“Hmm.” Yunjin narrows her eyes, clearly unconvinced, but thankfully, she doesn’t press further. “Well, I can’t wait to see your new place. We’ll do a housewarming soon, okay?”

“Yeah, definitely,” you say, nodding along, though the thought of hosting a gathering here makes your stomach twist. How exactly would you explain Seokjin’s... side hustle to anyone if they happened to find out?

“Alright, I’ve gotta go,” Yunjin says, the bustling noise behind her growing louder. “I’m supposed to get lunch with Hanni and Stephen. Love you!”

“Love you too,” you reply, waving at the screen before the call ends.

You set your phone down, a mix of warmth and guilt settling over you. It’s comforting to know Yunjin has your back, but it also serves as a painful reminder of how far you’ve fallen. No job, no stability, and now living with a guy who… well.

You shake your head, refusing to let yourself spiral. There’s too much to do, too many boxes to unpack. For now, you focus on the small wins—folding clothes, sorting books, reclaiming a sense of order.

One step at a time.

You throw yourself into unpacking and organizing, letting the steady rhythm of your tasks distract you from your swirling thoughts. The hours slip by as you arrange books on shelves, hang up clothes, and shuffle boxes around to make the room feel less like a storage unit and more like a home.

By the time the sun begins to dip lower in the sky, you’ve made solid progress. Your room is starting to look presentable—cozy, even. The hum of activity keeps your mind occupied, though every now and then, stray thoughts about last night sneak in.

The sound of the front door unlocking jolts you out of your reverie. A moment later, Seokjin walks in, dressed in business attire, his tie slightly loosened and his hair tousled in that effortlessly charming way that makes it clear why his stream fans are obsessed with him.

“Hey,” he says, offering a small smile as he sets his bag on the counter. “How was your day?”

“It was good,” you reply, wiping your dust-covered hands on your jeans. “Got most of my stuff sorted out.”

He glances toward your room and nods approvingly. “Nice. Looks like you’ve been busy.”

“Yeah, I figured I’d get it all done before it starts to feel like a chore.”

Seokjin chuckles as he loosens his tie completely and drapes it over a chair. “Smart move. I should probably take a page out of your book. My closet’s a disaster zone right now.”

“Really?” you ask, raising an eyebrow. “You don’t strike me as the messy type.”

He shrugs, pulling open the fridge to grab a bottle of water. “It’s organized chaos. I know where everything is… mostly.”

You laugh softly, some of the tension you’d been holding onto easing as the conversation flows naturally. For the first time since last night, you don’t feel quite so on edge around him.

“Anyway,” he says, taking a sip of water and leaning against the counter, “I’m gonna change out of this and make something for dinner. You hungry?”

“Starving,” you admit, realizing you hadn’t eaten much while caught up in organizing.

“Cool. Give me like ten minutes,” he says with a grin, already heading toward his room.

As he disappears down the hallway, you let out another breath you didn’t realize you were holding. It’s going to take some time to feel normal here, but for now, small moments like this help.

Back to one step at a time.

Yes… one step at a time.

Jin reappears in casual clothes—sweatpants and a loose tee that somehow still manages to look good on him—and heads straight to the kitchen. You sit on the couch, doomscrolling on social media to consume random content to keep you busy in the meantime.

The comforting sound of clattering pots and pans fills the apartment, accompanied by the savory aroma of something delicious in the making.

When he calls out, “Hope you like pasta carbonara,” you can’t help but feel grateful he’s even making you food. 

He doesn’t have to do this, but it’s nice that he is.

He sets the steaming pan on top of a hot pad on the table, followed by two plates, forks, and a sprinkle of grated cheese in a small dish. “Voilà. Gourmet dining at its finest.”

This actually looks like high quality italian restaurant quality presentation.

You take a seat, eyeing the dish appreciatively. “Woah? Fancy. Do you cook like this all the time?”

He grins as he spoons a generous serving onto your plate. “Not always. I have a rotation: this, ramen, steak, kimchi jjigae, and… takeout. Lots of takeout.”

You laugh, grabbing your fork. “Sounds somewhat balanced.”

“I try to keep it balanced but,” he agrees, twirling pasta onto his fork. “I also work out a bit too.”

“Nice,” 

In your mind, you’re thinking “yeah, you’ve seen him workout alright”

This is really going to eat at you at this rate.

The two of you eat in comfortable silence for a while, the rich, creamy flavors of the pasta doing wonders for your mood. It feels surreal to be sitting here, sharing a meal with someone who, just days ago, you were convinced would be a terrible roommate.

The meal is delicious, better than you’d expected. For a while, you let yourself get lost in the comforting simplicity of eating—pasta twirling on your fork, the sauce aroma wafting up, the occasional clink of silverware against plates.

It feels… normal. Nice, even. But still, at the back of your mind, there’s a quiet storm brewing.

The night before keeps replaying in your head, uninvited and intrusive, like a broken record you can’t turn off. You glance at Seokjin as he eats, his features relaxed, his posture casual. How can he seem so normal when you know what he was doing less than 24 hours ago?

The mental tug-of-war begins: Should you just ignore it? Pretend it never happened? Or—

“So,” you blurt, interrupting your own thoughts, “what exactly do you do for work?”

Jin looks up, chewing thoughtfully before swallowing. “I work in marketing,” he says, reaching for his water.

You nod, encouraging him to continue. “Marketing for…?”

He grins, sensing your peaked interest. “Riot Games. You know, the League of Legends company?”

Your eyes widen. “No way! What! That’s so cool.”

That’s actually a pretty awesome career.

And so Seokjin of him.

“Yeah, it’s pretty fun. A lot of campaigns and community engagement stuff. It keeps me busy, but I like it. Games have always been my thing.”

That part doesn’t surprise you. Growing up, Jin was always glued to his Game Boy, computer or chattering about his latest high scores. This career seems like a natural fit for him.

“Of course, I remember that well,” you say, smiling. “Also explains the gaming setup.”

“The gaming setup?” Jin freezes for a fraction of a second, his fork hovering mid-air. His expression shifts from casual to guarded so quickly you almost miss it.

Shit.

You scramble to backtrack. “Uh, I just mean… you seem like the type to have a cool gaming setup, you know? Dual monitors, fancy keyboard, maybe some LED lights?”

His shoulders relax slightly, though his eyes remain sharp, watching you closely. “Haven’t shown you my room yet. How’d you know?”

“I didn’t,” you reply quickly, forcing a laugh. “It’s just a guess. I mean, come on, you work at Riot Games. Wouldn’t you have the gear to match?”

Jin tilts his head, a playful smirk tugging at his lips before he leans back in his chair. “Actually,” he says, his tone shifting slightly, “I’ve been a bit shy to mention this, but… I’m also a Twitch streamer.”

You already knew this from prior snooping, so you gotta act surprised.

Your fork pauses mid-air. “Woah? You are?”

He nods, a little sheepish now, which is a rare look for him. “Yeah. My old roommate actually got me into it awhile back. It started as a way to unwind after work, but then it kinda… took off. Nothing crazy, but it’s been fun.”

You don’t think that 200,000 followers is something to not be impressed about. That is a decently big audience for someone who hasn’t been doing it for too long.

That sparks your curiosity. “Really? What do you stream?”

“Well, gaming mainly as you saw,” he says, shrugging. “Some League, Valorant… a bit of variety stuff when I feel like it. My audience isn’t huge, but it’s a solid little community to talk with.”

Audience, right.

Your mind flashes back to last night—the setup, the webcam, the comments streaming on the screen—and your stomach tightens. He wanted to hide this from you but still has more to uncover, but he’s so good at hiding it. Well, at least until you caught him yesterday.

You try to keep your expression neutral as you ask, “Isn’t it hard to balance with your job?”

Seokjin shakes his head. “Not really. Most of my streams are at night, after work. I mean, I’m already up, so I might as well do something productive, right?”

Productive, you think, the word ricocheting in your head. If only he knew…

“That’s… really cool,” you manage, keeping your tone even. “Do you think you’ll ever go full-time with it?”

He laughs, running a hand through his hair. “Nah. I like streaming, but I don’t think I’d give up my day job for it. It’s more of a side hustle, you know? Keeps me busy and entertained.”

“Right,” you say, nodding. “That makes sense.”

“I’ll have to show it to you some time. Maybe even let you try the setup if you’re into games.”

Oh?

“Sure,” you say, nodding too eagerly. “That sounds fun. Though I’ve always been a Nintendo girl,”

“I do recall, and that’s fine by me. We could play Mario Kart!”

“That sounds like a lot of fun, Jin—”

The word slips out naturally, before you even realize it. You freeze mid-sentence, your lips parting as the familiar nickname hangs awkwardly in the air. You haven’t called him “Jin” since elementary school. It used to roll off your tongue back when you were kids, when he was just a goofy classmate you exchanged Pokémon cards with and competed against in dodgeball. But ever since reconnecting as adults, you’ve made a conscious effort to just refer to him by his full name, Seokjin. It felt more appropriate. More… grown-up.

And it created a boundary, which now feels undone by you calling him more casually. Curse you getting more comfortable with this man! His eyes widen slightly at the sound of it, his smile faltering for only a split second before softening into something warmer. “Jin, huh?” he muses, raising an eyebrow. “Haven’t heard you call me that in years.”

You swallow, cheeks warming as you try to play it off casually. “Oh. Uh, sorry— I just—”

“You just what?” he teases gently, clearly enjoying your flustered state.

You groan, covering your face for a brief moment. “It just slipped out, okay? Old habits die hard, I guess.”

“Hmm.” His voice hums with amusement, and when you peek at him through your fingers, he’s looking at you with a fond expression that makes your stomach flip. “I don’t mind it, you know. Kinda like it, actually.”

“You like it?”

“Yeah,” he says simply, shrugging. “It’s nostalgic.”

There’s a pause as the two of you exchange a quiet glance, something unspoken settling in the air between you. For a moment, you swear his gaze lingers on you just a little too long.

“Well,” you mutter, trying to brush off the sudden tension. “If you don’t mind it, I guess I’ll start calling you Jin again.”

His smile widens into something bright and genuine, then chuckles. “Good! Doesn’t feel too weird anyways since my Twitch chat calls me Jin as well.”

And you were flustered over this for nothing.

The conversation moves on, but every time you say “Jin”, there’s a flicker of something in his eyes—something you can’t quite place. You ignore it though, as his dirty secret continues to gnaw at your mind more than whatever he must be thinking.

Glancing at him as he finishes his pasta, a soft hum escaping him as he collects the plates.

You retreat to your room, bidding Jin a casual goodnight as he mentions his plans for the evening. “Gonna play some Elden Ring with my friends, and then stream a Pokémon randomized Nuzlocke at nine,” he says, grinning. “If you hear me yelling at any ungodly hour, just know it’s the RNG gods being cruel.”

“Good to know,” you reply with a small laugh before closing your door behind you.

Settling onto your bed, you decide to distract yourself with something immersive—Bakemonogatari. It’s been on your list for a long time, and felt like now would be a good time to watch it. The anime’s intricate dialogue and surreal visuals immediately pull you in, though it’s hard to focus completely with lingering thoughts of Jin playing games only a few walls away.

You shake your head, forcing yourself to focus on the screen. As the narrative deepens and the subtitles demand your full attention, your eyelids grow heavier. Soon, the soft glow of the laptop screen and the soothing cadence of the voice acting lull you into a deep sleep.

A good sleep.

The kind of sleep you’ve been craving after a long day of cleaning, unpacking, and organizing—a chance to reset and settle fully into this new chapter of your life.

Until a familiar sensation stirs you awake.

You blink blearily at the clock on your nightstand.

2:35 a.m.

Déjà vu hits you like a freight train. The thirst pulls you out of bed, an undeniable urge. With a groggy sigh, you shuffle out of your room and make your way to the kitchen.

The dim light from the hallway guides you as you grab a water bottle from under the sink. The cool plastic feels grounding in your hand as you twist the cap open and take a long, satisfying sip.

Refreshed, you glance around. It’s quiet, save for the faint hum of the fridge and the soft whir of your thoughts.

And then your gaze instinctively drifts toward Jin’s room again.

Not for the wrong reasons! you tell yourself defensively. It’s just… you’re checking on him. Making sure he’s okay!

Right?

Your bare feet make the softest pats against the floor as you tiptoe a little closer to the hallway leading to Jin’s room. Sure enough, a familiar sliver of light leaks from the partially ajar door.

But something’s different this time.

You squint, leaning just enough to peek in.

There he is.

Seokjin sits cross-legged at his desk, headphones on, illuminated by the glow of his monitors. But instead of his usual casual attire or the polished look he had earlier, he’s wearing a pajama set. A blue pajama set covered in cartoon characters. The sight of him in something so unexpectedly cute throws you for a loop.

On the screen, the familiar pixelated world of Pokémon sprawls before him.

“Okay guys, I should end the live here,” he says cheerfully, his voice carrying through the quiet apartment. “But I’m almost at the Elite Four! This team I have right now is pretty solid, even if we lost Moon the Lunatone. I’ll get through the rival battle and stop there.”

Your jaw slackens.

Wait, what?

Where’s the camwork? The NSFW content? The explicit… everything you’d stumbled upon last night?

Confusion swirls in your chest as you scurry back to your room, shutting the door as quietly as possible. You lean against it, clutching the water bottle in both hands as your mind races.

What is going on here?

Had you… imagined it? No, that couldn’t be right. The vivid image of last night flashes through your mind unbidden, heat creeping up your neck as you recall every mortifying detail.

But now? He’s just streaming a Pokémon Nuzlocke like a completely normal, wholesome gamer.

Maybe you dreamed it…?

You sit on the edge of your bed, clutching the water bottle as if it’s the only thing tethering you to reality.

Maybe you were just seeing things last night.

The thought plants itself firmly in your mind, and as much as you try to swat it away, it lingers. You were exhausted yesterday. Between moving, unpacking, and the emotional whirlwind of losing your job and your relationship, maybe your mind just… played tricks on you.

Yeah, that must be it.

There’s no way you actually saw Jin doing that.

You groan, burying your face in your hands. “Oh god, I’m losing it,” you mutter under your breath.

Still, the memory feels so vivid. The faint glow of his screen, his movements, the soft noises—ugh, stop it! You shake your head, desperate to push the images out of your mind.

But the scene you just witnessed tonight couldn’t be more different. Jin was just… Jin. Cute pajama set, gaming setup, and an audience of what you assume were adoring fans cheering him on as he streamed his Pokémon playthrough.

Totally innocent.

Totally normal.

You flop back onto your bed, staring up at the ceiling. Your chest tightens as you try to rationalize it all. Maybe the stress and lack of sleep made your brain concoct some wild scenario. After all, you’re in a new place with a guy you haven’t seen since childhood. Maybe it’s just your subconscious working overtime as you’re lacking physical touch.

That has to be it, you convince yourself, pulling the blanket over your face.

And that’s exactly what you’ve convinced yourself to think.

Over two weeks have passed, and from the few times you’ve stumbled out of bed late at night, you haven’t encountered anything remotely similar to what you thought you saw on your first night here.

It became easier and easier to believe you hallucinated the whole thing.

Stress does crazy things to people, you told yourself. You just need to focus on your life.

Still, the faint embarrassment lingers every now and then, but it’s manageable. After all, you’ve been busy with moving-in activities, refining your resume, and applying to jobs. Productivity has been your savior, keeping your mind occupied and away from thoughts of intimacy—something that feels uncomfortable ever since your last relationship ended in betrayal.

Order seems to have been restored.

Conversations with Seokjin (who you now refer to as Jin) have become more natural, the initial awkwardness dissipating as you become more comfortable with one another and you’ve settled into a rhythm. You respect each other’s spaces, and despite the occasional childish banter, the dynamic is easy, like good old friends reconnecting.

You’ve gone shopping together for groceries, evening outings to eat at a sit-in restaurant or even just go for a drive or walk to destress, which usually ends in getting ice cream or bubble tea.

It’s oddly casual, but you don’t mind that. This is how things should be now that you’re both adults.

It’s a Thursday at noon when you hear the doorbell and find a large package waiting for Jin. 

[You: Hey, there's a big package addressed to you at the door? Where should I put it?]

After texting him to ask where to leave it, he eventually responds:

[Jin: Ah, thanks for letting me know. I was waiting on that to come in. Jin:Just put it in my room if you don’t mind!]

[You: Okay!]

And with that, you pick up the box and head toward his room.

It occurs to you as you step inside that this is your first time actually entering his space.

Jin’s room is, unsurprisingly, immaculate—spacious, well-organized, and undeniably him. The decor is a cute mix of his personality: shelves filled with gaming figures, an impressive collection of games, and stuffed animals of his favorite creatures scattered across the bed. There’s even a small shrine to Mario and Kirby in the corner that makes you grin.

You place the package on his bed as instructed and turn to leave, but something catches your eye.

His monitor.

The screen is still on, displaying a cluttered web browser with more tabs open than anyone should realistically have. You almost laugh at the chaos of it—thirty, maybe forty tabs?

But then your gaze lands on one in particular.

A small icon. A name.

Chaturbate.

Your heart skips a beat.

Oh. My. God.

It’s like the carefully constructed world of denial you’ve built over the past week shatters in an instant.

No way. No, no, no, this can’t be?!

Your feet feel glued to the floor as your mind races. This can’t be real. Why would Jin have that open? Wasn’t it just a mistake that night? A fluke? A hallucination?!

And yet, here it is. Right in front of you.

Your stomach flips as hell’s gates open again, memories from that night rushing back in vivid detail.

Curiosity claws at you, relentless and insistent. You know you shouldn’t, but the urge to know is overwhelming. If it really is what you think it is… then maybe, just maybe, you can confirm it and put this strange, lingering mystery to rest.

Your heart pounds in your chest as you step closer to the desk. The glow of the screen feels accusatory, like a spotlight shining on your guilt. This is so wrong, you think, but your hand still moves.

You nudge the mouse, waking the monitor from its idle dimness.

The browser window expands to full brightness, revealing the countless tabs more clearly now. You spot the one labeled Chaturbate. Your fingers hover over the mouse, trembling slightly, and before you can talk yourself out of it, you click.

The page loads immediately.

And there it is.

The profile is still open, though it’s not broadcasting live. A banner at the top reads: "Offline – Streams Scheduled 3x a month. Next stream: Tonight at 1:30AM."

The alias catches your eye immediately, bold and unmistakable at the top of the page: "BigTunaManXOXO"

Big Tuna Man?

You have to chuckle, though the sound feels unnatural in the stillness of the room. Well, he did mention he likes tuna when you two had sushi two days ago. You shake your head in disbelief at how absurd the situation is.

Scrolling a little more, your heart races as the tags and content descriptions appear on the screen. Tags like casual play, NSFW, punishment, and even interactive fill the list, confirming everything you feared—and hoped—was true.

What did you expect? you think, eyes scanning the content. His previous streams, unlocked for paid viewers, show glimpses of what you had seen—shirtless moments, fan interactions, and those subtle teases. Some comments from regular viewers flash on the screen: "You’re so cute, Big Tuna. Gonna get your next stream tonight?"

A pit forms in your stomach as you scroll further, seeing the balance of gaming content mixed with something... different. There are a few VODs, some marked with glowing red icons and some tagged with things like solo play, toys, edging and private sessions. Your breath catches in your throat as you click on one of the unlocked streams. It starts to load, and before you can stop yourself, you’re staring at a past broadcast.

Seokjin.

In a black Alo Yoga hoodie and 5” inseam black shorts. The camera angle is different now, the lighting softer, more intimate. His voice comes through clearly, playful, teasing. You watch as he interacts with the chat, joking around with his viewers, and then... he moves the camera just enough that you can see part of his face for a moment—barely, but enough to confirm it’s him to you, who has been seeing him every day since you moved in with him.

His usual smile is replaced by something softer, more relaxed, more... flirty.

And then, there it is.

The content, the movement—just like you saw that first night. The subtle, slow gestures that make everything come rushing back, and for a moment, you forget to breathe.

You harshly click the tab shut, returning to the previous tab it once was. Quickly, you leave Jin’s room, making sure not to disturb anything else. The echo of the laptop snapping shut still rings in your ears, and your hands are trembling slightly as you step back into the hallway.

You hope it doesn’t look like you lingered too long. The last thing you need is for him to know you were snooping around, even accidentally. You slip back into your own room, shutting the door behind you, and lean against it, exhaling shakily.

This is too much.

You now have undeniable proof. Solid, irrefutable evidence that the man you’re living with, sharing meals with, and chatting about Pokémon and pasta with... is a cam boy. A cam boy doing porn and who’s managed to keep this side hustle hidden under layers of casual charm and everyday normalcy.

It’s not the fact that he does that kind of work that bothers you, not at all. If anything, it’s more… personal than that… The memory of what you saw—his expressions, his movements—lingers in your mind like an unshakable phantom, making your body feel uncomfortably warm and restless. You sink onto your bed, burying your face in your hands as if that will somehow erase the imagery burned into your brain.

Get it together, you tell yourself.

But curiosity—it’s a relentless beast. The harder you try to shove it down, the more insistent it becomes. Questions start to pile up, each one more intrusive than the last.

Does anyone recognize him? Do his fans know?

You grab your phone, desperate for answers, and open Reddit. If there’s one place on the internet where secrets can’t stay buried, it’s here. Your fingers fly across the keyboard as you type: Gamer Jin and BigTunaManXOXO Reddit.

The search yields only two results. Two. A drop in the ocean of online gossip and speculation, yet still enough to send your heart into overdrive.

You tap the first thread: “Jin and BigTunaManXOXO: Double Life?”

The original poster’s comment pulls you in instantly:

“Okay, is it just me, or doesn’t he sound like this cam boy BigTunaManXOXO? Literally has the same voice, same mannerisms... someone tell me I’m not crazy.”

The replies are a mix of disbelief, humor, and outright denial. Some users dismiss the theory as absurd, calling it disrespectful to Jin. Others joke about the sheer randomness of the comparison, adding memes and GIFs for good measure.

But a small minority entertains the possibility.

“I mean… I’ve seen his streams. The way he laughs does sound kinda similar…”

“I don’t think it’s him, but if it were, that would be WILD.”

One reply makes your stomach churn:

“Not saying it’s him, but I subscribed to BigTunaManXOXO just to fantasize about him being Jin. No regrets.”

You stare at the screen, your mind spinning. The majority of commenters don’t believe the theory, dismissing it as pure coincidence. But they have no idea how close they are to the truth.

And now, neither can you unsee it.

Seokjin arrived home that evening with a bright smile and the unmistakable aroma of takeout wafting through the apartment. The bags he carried crinkled as he shifted them in his arms, his voice ringing out cheerfully, “Guess what I got? Bao buns! And a few other things, but mostly the bao buns—because I remembered you mentioned them earlier this week.”

You hear a knock at your door a moment later, and you pause, nerves prickling under your skin. You take a deep breath, steadying yourself before opening it. Seokjin stands there, still dressed in his work clothes but with his usual easygoing grin.

“Dinner’s here. Come eat,” he says, gesturing toward the living room with the bags.

You nod, smiling back, though it feels a little forced. “Thanks, Jin. That’s really thoughtful of you.”

His sharp eyes linger on you for a beat too long, and you know he’s caught the slight edge in your tone, the nervous way you’re holding the door. He doesn’t say anything, but his expression shifts—subtle, curious. He doesn’t push, though; that’s not his style.

Instead, he leans back casually and adds, “I figured we could eat and watch something. Maybe an old favorite of yours?” He raises a brow, the corners of his lips tugging upward knowingly. “Bleach? I noticed you have some merch on your bookshelf.”

Your heart skips a beat, both from the thoughtful gesture and the fact that Seokjin’s perceptiveness always seems to catch you off guard. Does he see right through me? Does he know what I found?

“Bleach sounds good,” you say quickly, hoping to steady yourself. “Let me just grab something, and I’ll meet you in the living room.”

“Cool,” he says, his voice calm but tinged with something else—maybe a touch of inquisition. He walks off toward the kitchen, leaving you alone for a moment.

You close the door softly, leaning your head against it. Why does he have to be so…—you search for the right word—attentive? It’s like he has a radar for when something’s wrong. And now, dinner and your childhood favorite anime feel like a test of your ability to act normal.

A few minutes later, you join him in the living room. The coffee table is already set with the takeout containers: bao buns, lo mein, orange chicken, and fried rice. Jin is on the couch, flipping through streaming options until he lands on Bleach. He looks up and pats the cushion next to him.

“Sit. I already started the episode where Ichigo reunites with Rukia and the other Gotei 13 soul reapers. Start of my favorite arcs.”

You sit, the warm scent of the food making your stomach growl despite the anxious knot twisting inside you. Seokjin slides a plate toward you, and the two of you settle into a rhythm—eating, watching, occasionally commenting on the nostalgia of the show.

But the tension lingers.

Out of the corner of your eye, you catch him glancing at you between bites, as if trying to figure out what’s on your mind. And you wonder just how long it will take before his curiosity outweighs his patience.

As you both finish up the episode of Bleach, Seokjin turns to you, his gaze warm yet inquisitive. “So, how was your day?”

You pause for a second, collecting your thoughts. 

What to say? What did you do today before your world got flipped upside down… Oh right… the job interview. “Busy,” you say with a small laugh. “I had a second interview earlier for a job.”

His eyebrows lift, impressed. “Oh? What’s the role?”

“It’s for a coordinator position at a small fashion house,” you explain. “It went… great, actually. But I don’t think I’ll get it though.”

Jin frowns, leaning slightly closer. “Why not? You just said it went great.”

You shrug, letting out a sigh. “I don’t know. It’s just a gut feeling, I guess. Fashion’s cutthroat, you know? The people in that industry are quick to judge if you don’t fit the vibe they’re looking for. You can have all the skills, a good background, everything—but it’s still not enough sometimes. I don’t think I got what they want.”

He watches you for a moment, then sets down his plate and reaches across the table. His hand finds yours, warm and grounding. “Hey,” he says softly, his voice steady. “You are good enough. I know it’s hard not to overthink, but you have to believe that you bring something special to the table.”

Your chest tightens at his words, the sincerity in his tone. His thumb brushes your knuckles gently, and that nervous feeling blooms again, tugging at the edges of your thoughts. There’s something so familiar about this—like nostalgia wrapped in uncertainty. It’s comforting, but it scares you all the same.

You blink, pulling your hand back as casually as you can without it seeming abrupt. “Thanks, Jin,” you say, your voice tight. “I… I should probably get ready for this international networking seminar I have. It’s later tonight so I’ll be up for awhile.”

He tilts his head slightly, concern flickering in his expression, but he doesn’t press. “Right. Well, good luck with it. Let me know if you need anything.”

“Right back ‘atcha,” you reply quickly, standing up. You gather the disposable utensils and plates in a hurry, tossing them into the trash before he can say anything else.

Seokjin stays seated on the couch, his gaze lingering on you as you retreat to your room. The moment you close the door behind you, you exhale sharply, pressing your back against it.

Why does he have to be like this? So supportive, so perceptive, so… kind?

This is not the Seokjin you imagined when you decided to move in here!

You shake your head, trying to refocus your thoughts. You have work to do. The seminar is important, and you need to be prepared. But even as you sit down at your desk and open your laptop, you can’t shake the image of Jin’s hand on yours or the soft encouragement in his voice.

It’s almost enough to make you forget what you saw earlier today. Almost.

Would it do you any good to force yourself to forget? Pretend that the tab you saw was just a fleeting mistake, an inconsequential moment in time?

Or would it be better to confront this unsettling curiosity head-on? Maybe, if you understood more about his “side hobby,” you could find a way to desensitize yourself. Make it less of a big deal. Normalize it in your head.

The thought gnaws at you until you’re lying in bed at 1:28 a.m., the glow of your laptop casting a dim light across your room. You’re wearing your old blue track shorts and a faded YMCA T-shirt, the kind of comfort wear you don’t expect anyone to see you in. You thought the seminar would last longer, but with some guest speaker changes, it ended right at 1am.

So now you’re doing this.

The chat on the pending livestream is already alive—rows of messages racing up the screen, eager fans buzzing in anticipation of “BigTunaMan’s” arrival.

You can’t believe you’re actually doing this.

You glance at the clock again. One minute to go.

Then, he appears.

The camera flicks on, revealing Seokjin—or BigTunaMan, as his audience knows him—seated in his chair, the warm glow of soft lighting accentuating the smooth planes of his face and the subtle curve of his smirk. He’s wearing a loose tank top, the kind that clings just enough to hint at the lines of his shoulders and chest, paired with pajama bottoms that ride low on his hips. His demeanor is relaxed, confident, and undeniably captivating.

“Hey there, my army of lovers,” he greets, his voice lower, smoother, each word deliberately stretched out as if he’s tasting them. The chat floods instantly with messages, adoration pouring in from every corner of his audience.

“BigTunaMan, looking gorgeous as always!”

“Omg, talk slower, I can’t handle it.”

“Take all my money, please.”

Jin leans forward, resting his chin in his hand, his lips curling into an indulgent smile as he reads through the comments. “You’ve all been so patient tonight,” he purrs. “So how about I spoil you a little?”

He picks up a small bowl of strawberries from beside him, holding it up for the camera. The way his fingers brush over the fruit feels intentional, sensual, as though he’s fully aware of the effect he has on the people watching.

“Let’s start simple,” he murmurs, his gaze flickering to the chat, teasing. “A little ASMR snack to set the mood. And of course, I’ll be saying your names—if you’ve earned it.”

The screen lights up with donations almost instantly, usernames accompanied by desperate messages and heart emojis.

He picks a strawberry from the bowl, holding it delicately between his fingers, and bites into it slowly. The sound is soft but amplified, deliberate, and his eyes never leave the camera. He chews thoughtfully, his tongue darting out briefly to catch a stray bit of juice.

“Thank you, PurpleHeart94,” he whispers, his voice silky and intimate. “You’re so generous tonight, baby.” He takes another bite, his gaze steady and smoldering. “And you, HentaiPrincess420—what a sweet name. Thank you for spoiling me when I should be doing that to you.”

Shit… He’s so smooth.

The chat goes wild, messages pouring in faster than you can keep track of them.

He takes his time, naming off more donors, each one met with a sultry thank-you, his tone dripping with playful affection. By the time the strawberries are gone, the tension in the air feels palpable, even through the screen.

Jin leans back in his chair, running a hand through his hair as he speaks. “Now that we’re warmed up,” he says, his voice dropping lower, “how about we move on to something… a little more sexy?”

Your breath catches.

“The touching session,” he says simply, his hand trailing down his chest slowly, almost lazily. The camera angle shifts slightly, framing him in a way that feels more intimate, inviting, as if he’s closing the distance between himself and his audience.

You’re not sure whether you should close the laptop or keep watching, but your fingers remain frozen, hovering over the keyboard.

The chat explodes:

“YES, PLEASE!”

“Touch me instead!”

“PICK ME CHOOSE ME BigTunaMan!”

Jin chuckles, the sound low and resonant. “Patience,” he chides softly. “We’ve got all night, haven’t we?”

The camera zooms in slightly, drawing your focus to the deliberate, almost hypnotic movements of Jin’s hands as they trail over his skin. His voice, smooth and sultry, seeps into your ears like honey, wrapping around your thoughts and making it impossible to concentrate on anything else.

“Do you like this?” he murmurs, his tone so intimate it feels like he’s speaking directly to you. “Tell me how much you want it.”

The chat erupts in eager replies, but they’re a distant hum compared to the pounding of your heart. You can’t look away.

Though he keeps his face just out of view, it’s his voice that captures you, that low, velvety timbre punctuated by soft, breathy moans. They’re unintentional, almost reluctant, but they strike something deep within you.

You swallow hard, your throat dry, as your eyes remain glued to the screen. The way his hands move—slow, teasing, purposeful—sends heat coursing through your body. Every movement is a study in precision, a dance of tension and release that makes your breath hitch.

You feel your body responding in ways you didn’t expect. Warmth pools low in your belly, and your thighs press together instinctively. Your fingers hover near the trackpad, ready to click away but unable to follow through.

“This feels good, doesn’t it?” he continues, his voice breaking into a soft groan that sends a shiver down your spine. Why is this actually feeling…good. You can’t stop yourself from imagining those hands on you, guiding you, making you forget everything—your ex, the breakup, the shitty job market, the confusion of the past weeks.

For a moment, you close your eyes and let the sound of his voice wash over you. Your fingers inch lower, hesitating, as you let yourself get lost in the moment. You’re not thinking about the consequences, about what this means. You’re thinking about him—his hands, his voice, the heat building inside you.

The guilt simmers beneath the surface, but it’s drowned out by the relentless pull of desire. The screen lights up your room, but it’s his voice and movements that light you up inside. You barely notice the chat anymore; it’s just you and him in this moment, an unspoken connection through the glow of the laptop.

Your breath comes in shallow gasps as your hand moves on its own accord, slipping under the waistband of your shorts. You close your eyes again, imagining his hands instead of your own, his voice murmuring your name instead of the ones flooding the chat. For the first time in weeks, maybe months, you let yourself feel without holding back.

In this moment, nothing else matters. Fuck the breakup you had with Mingi. Fuck the stress of job searching. Fuck the awkwardness of living with him. And most importantly, fuck the consequences of watching this. It’s just him, the way he makes you feel, and the heat that consumes you completely.

Your breath hitches as your hands wander further, slipping under your shirt to tease at your nipples, fingers rolling and pinching lightly. Each touch sends sparks of pleasure shooting through you, but it’s not enough—not compared to what you’re watching on the screen.

Not like Jin’s movements at all.

Jin’s hands move with expert precision against his dick, his body shifting slightly as he leans into the motions. His moans, soft yet intentional, echo in your ears, spurring your own need higher. You slide your shorts down your hips, the cool air kissing your skin as they drop to the floor.

Your fingers dip lower, grazing over the slick heat pooling between your thighs. It’s good, but not nearly enough. You want more. You need more.

With a frustrated sigh, you pull yourself away from the bed, heart pounding as you open the drawer of your nightstand. Your fingers quickly locate the toy nestled among your folded underwear. It’s a guilty secret you’ve kept for moments like this, though none of those moments have ever felt as charged as this one.

You crawl back onto the bed, the glow of the screen casting shadows over your skin. Jin’s voice fills the room, low and enticing, as he murmurs, “You want me to keep going? Don’t worry, I’ll take care of you.”

Your thighs clench involuntarily at his words, your hand trembling slightly as you press the toy against yourself. The first vibration jolts through you, a gasp escaping your lips as your body arches into the sensation.

On the screen, Jin leans back slightly, his voice dipping even lower. “Just relax,” he says, as though he knows exactly what you’re doing. “Let me make you feel good.”

You follow his lead, letting the toy work against you as your free hand resumes teasing your chest. The pleasure builds steadily, your movements syncing with his as if he’s guiding you through the screen.

Every sound he makes, every deliberate motion, heightens the sensation coursing through you. You bite your lip, trying to stay quiet, but a soft moan slips out despite your efforts. The rhythm of the toy against you matches the cadence of his voice, and it feels as though he’s right there, coaxing you to the edge. You feel yourself almost reaching your orgasm.

But then…

The darkness in the room is lit by the various colored lights and monitor screens as Jin’s chest rises and falls. He begins to slows his movements on his cock, his fingers curling reflexively against his skin. For a brief, unguarded moment, his mind conjures your image—your laughter from earlier at dinner, the way you nervously tugged at the hem of your shirt when he reached out to reassure you.

Woah, what.

Why am I thinking about her right now?

The thought crashes into him like a freight train, shattering his carefully constructed cam-boy persona. His rhythm falters, and as he shifts back abruptly, his elbow knocks into the small Mario figure perched on the edge of his desk.

The figure wobbles, teeters, and then tumbles, the plastic base snapping cleanly off as it hits the hardwood floor.

“Shit!” Jin hisses, his hands flying up to stop the disaster that’s already occurred.

He quickly reaches for the webcam, clicking off the feed and muttering a quick excuse to his audience. “Hey guys, I’ll be right back. Technical issue. Don’t go anywhere.”

The chat floods with reactions—some disappointed, others supportive—but Jin pays them no mind. He gets himself covered up, with his focus no on the broken Mario figure in his hands.

He turns it over, the damage glaringly obvious. It’s just a silly little figurine to anyone else, but to Jin, it’s so much more. You’d given it to him during a Secret Santa exchange in elementary school. It was back when you were both just kids, long before life got complicated and your paths diverged.

He’d kept it all these years, quietly treasuring the memory of that moment, even if you probably didn’t remember.

“Damn it…” he mutters under his breath. He needs super glue—immediately.

The thought strikes him like lightning: you bought super glue just the other day to fix a keychain. You even mentioned it offhand while you were unloading groceries together.

You must have it in your room.

Without hesitation, Jin stands, his mind racing with urgency. You’d said you’d be up late for some seminar, so you’re probably awake. There’s no time to text or knock; he can just explain in person. You’re a few steps away anyway.

He pushes your door open, stepping inside in a rush, only for the world to come screeching to a halt.

His eyes widen as they land on you—sprawled on your bed, your shirt rucked up to expose bare breasts and heat, your shorts kicked off and forgotten. The unmistakable hum of a vibrator fills the air, the glow of your laptop illuminating your flushed face.

Holy shit, he just caught his new roommate and childhood rival… friend? masterbating.

Your hand freezes mid-motion as you look at him, your expression a mixture of shock and mortification.

For a moment, neither of you moves.

“I—” Jin stammers, his voice catching in his throat. His gaze darts away, his face heating up so fast it feels like it might combust. “I—oh my god—I’m sorry! I didn’t mean—”

Your own voice fails you, a strangled moaning sound escaping your lips as you scramble to pull the blanket over yourself, fumbling in a panic.

“W-What the hell, Jin!” you manage to croak, your voice high-pitched and shaky.

“I needed super glue!” he blurts out, clutching the broken Mario figure in his hands like it’s the most important thing in the world. “For this! It’s broken, and I—”

“This couldn’t wait?!” you snap, the mortification only growing as his words fully sink in.

Jin takes a step back, clearly flustered. “I didn’t think—! I mean, I thought you were—”

He freezes mid-sentence, his eyes darting to your laptop screen. His breath catches as the realization washes over him.

That’s my stream.

For a moment, the room is suffocatingly silent, his wide-eyed gaze flicking between you and the unmistakable paused screen of his cam boy persona on your laptop. She’s watching me? The thought echoes in his mind, equal parts flattered and horrified.

Jin had sensed something was off earlier in the evening, even before all of this unfolded. After dinner, when he’d returned to his room, he’d noticed the Chaturbate tab—closed.

That was odd.

He distinctly remembered leaving it open before leaving for work this morning. He’d scheduled some exclusive content for his next stream and had moved the tab to a less conspicuous window. He figured maybe he’d closed it in a rush and forgotten.

But now, as he stood here, watching your flushed face buried in your hands, it started clicking into place.

Your awkward behavior during dinner—the way you fumbled through your answers, the slight tension in your laugh. He’d assumed you were just jittery from nerves after your job interview, but this? This was something else entirely.

How long has she known?

The realization settled in his chest like a slow-building weight, pushing him further toward clarity. His gaze softened, not with pity, but with a blend of intrigue and confusion.

“Y/N, you’re watching my camming stream?” he finally says, his voice low, incredulous.

You groan, your hands flying up to cover your burning face. “Oh my god. I can explain—no, wait, I can’t explain. Just—” You trail off, wishing for the earth to swallow you whole. Your voice is muffled through your palms as you mutter, “This isn’t what it looks like at all!”

She’s kind of cute, all flustered like this, he thinks to himself.

Jin crosses his arms, leaning against your doorframe, and his lips quirk up into a lopsided smile. There’s amusement in his eyes, but also something more—interest, maybe? He tilts his head slightly, watching you squirm.

Maybe he should tease her a little, like old times.

“Wow,” he finally says, his voice low and teasing. “Have you been that lonely?”

Your head snaps up, your face somehow growing hotter. “What? No! I mean…” You falter, the truth sitting heavy on your tongue, and you look away, unable to meet his gaze. “Okay, maybe a little. The breakup was actually that bad and um…but this—this isn’t about that.”

He takes a step closer, his smirk softening into something gentler. “You could’ve told me.”

“Told you what?” you ask weakly, your heart pounding as he stands just a few feet away now.

“That you’ve been feeling like this. That you needed…” His voice dips, and his dark eyes flicker over you, lingering just a little too long. “Some help...”

Your breath catches, and you swallow hard, trying to keep your voice steady. “Seokjin, I don’t—”

“I could help,” he interrupts, his tone soft but unmistakably suggestive.

The weight of his words settles over you like a warm blanket, and for a moment, all you can do is stare at him, your mind racing. Is he serious? Does he mean what you think he means?

No, like why would he? What does he gain from this? Even he himself wonders.

“You could help?” you repeat, your voice barely above a whisper, as if saying it out loud would shatter whatever fragile tension exists between you.

His eyes lock onto yours, and the look he gives you is steady, confident, and almost daring. “Yeah,” he says. “If you’d let me.”

He doesn’t think you’ll actually accept it, if anything, this is probably time for you to officially kick him out–

“Then help me, already.”

–

–

–

a/n: this is really long chapter because i really wanted to add some psychological warfare going on in reader's head + some character development as these two "childhood rivals" start to befriend each other now in their adult lives. i hope you enjoy this chapter. happy holidays!! thank you all for the support and for reading!

➸ let me know what you think OR join the taglist for future works! ➸ check out my masterlist for other fics I have made

[daegudrama]

241219 writing wrap-up:

 worked on: All Along

 word count: 952

 last sentence(s) written: “You can let go, Jungkook,” I murmur, my lips brushing his temple. “I’ve got you.”

[daegudrama]

yeah bro it's a character study. the 2 thousand words of blowjob is vital to the study of the character

[daegudrama]

minted: three (explicit) | myg

title: minted: part three (m) pairing: street king!yoongi x street vendor!reader series: masterlist | one | two rating/genre: m (18+) ; angst , smut ; haegeum au , gang au summary: at this point, you would do anything to forget. including the unthinkable with a gangster. note: sooo this series basically saved my writing slump haha. i am still having the time of my life and i’m so excited to show y’all more of this minted universe. and to also show you just how spicy things can get❤️‍🔥 note 2: this is ofc a present for hali @sailoryooons that spiraled into a whole universe. still always gonna thank nary @joonary for letting me use the vendor reader idea, as well! also happy birthday to @remmykinsff @awbells @keylime4eva and @noshit-cantfindagoodone!! to everyone else having a bday around this time, this is my gift to you hehehe. warnings: language, drugs, alcohol, slow burn, murder mentions, gang activity, mint!yoongi, haegeum!yoongi, tatted!yoongi, his eyebrow is pierced, chains bc of course :)), world-building, reader is still sassy, yoongi is still infuriating, tension explicit warnings: under the cut! drop date: december 9th, 2024, 9:03pm est word count: 12.3k 😀👍

explicit warnings: i know it’s a slow burn but there’s definitely smut lol, choking, head/hair tugging, penetration, oral (f rec), backshotssss, marking bye, rough sex, ass play, breast play, his hands are a nice necklace😀, taunting cus reader’s an icon, thighs, breath play, spanking, hand job, protected sex, multiple orgasms, restraints (his hands, robe tie), brat!reader but who is honestly shocked🙂‍↔️, brat tamer!yoongi lmao, yoongi is a menace i’m sorryyyy, but reader is…?????, need them both™, teasing, rawdogging HELLO?? (pls wrap it up fr!), commanding yoongi a ha ha, pain kink, cowgirl🙂‍↕️, this is just the calm before a whole damn storm

—

—

“But,” you exhale with a shake. “Just for tonight…”  

This is it.

The brink of no return.

Your soul dips into the dark.

“Please make me fucking forget.”

Did you go too far? 

Is there a limit to his accommodation? Did you actually think this was gonna be easy? 

When silence swirls between your robes, you start to second guess your demand. 

But Yoongi simply stares before stepping aside, allowing you to enter his room with jellied legs. 

This is madness, but you’re gonna go through with it. Whatever the hell this will be. Because you may not know much, but you figure all men sit up the same when sex is on the table. 

This man, though... 

Quite frankly, you aren’t sure about anything when it comes to him. Unless it’s about him doing something questionable. Then there’s no question about it.

The enigma himself makes no conversation as you step inside, even as your eyes roam around a cleaner, more put-together room than when you left the first time. Did Yoongi clean this much while you made a mess of your dreams? 

The only answer you get is a door shutting, followed by a massive presence at your back. Before you can so much as turn around, the first words on your shoulders burn like embers,

“Was he your first.” 

Fuck. 

This isn’t what you approached him for. He’s supposed to make you forget, not remember. Remember?

You don’t turn around; you don’t respond right away. Instead, you swallow before focusing very hard on the fact that Yoongi sleeps on the bedside nearest the window. At least, judging by the way the covers are flipped. You happen to prefer the side opposite.

The heat from his body proves soft but intense, and you can’t help but close your eyes when you finally answer with a question, 

“Do you remember yours?” 

“Yes.” 

“Do you ever regret it?” 

“No.”

Your vision lowers to the rug lying still under the bed. A splash of light grey amongst a darkened, moonlit sea. 

No matter how quick Yoongi answers. No matter how even his tone. 

He still remembers it, too. 

But this isn’t what you expected when you walked in here. You assumed this man was going to get right to it, save no room for you to second guess yourself. Clearly he gave zero shits about kissing you in that taxi, and he damn near undressed you in the living room. 

So what’s the holdup here? Does he want this for real? Or not? 

Head at a slight angle, you admit with a hint of finality, “I don’t wanna talk about that.” 

“Mm.” A warm, rough hand subtly tugs at your belt, and prominent knuckles nudge through the smooth material of your robe. “So what are you really here for.” 

Your eyes blink thrice. 

Yoongi cannot be serious. Does he really not know? 

No. He knows. With a shift of your jaw, you realize he’s just fucking with you, purposefully not in the way you want. “You’re being difficult.” 

“You woke me up.”

Ah. That’s fair. 

“So tell me.” 

Well. If you’re gonna have to spell things out for him, he’s gonna be waiting for awhile. Because the more you stand here not doing anything, the harder it is to gather a little thing called courage. Courage to meet the beast in his den, and madness to let him devour you whole. Now you have neither. Neither, neither, neither.

Awkwardness sticks to your throat until it’s jammed, and you can barely mush your lips together to form sounds. The courage you speak of flees before you can wrangle it, and what’s left of your answer tumbles out like boulders, “This is.. I don’t.. I can’t.” 

“You can.” 

“It’s,” you huff, noting that you don’t like this horrible mix of hesitation and anger, “It’s… I’m—” 

Your vision jolts as you feel a quick tug shit you’re spinning fuck your back just hit a wall—

“Of all things today,” Yoongi murmurs with slits for eyes, “This is what gets you to shut up?” 

Damn it. 

You don’t even have a rebuttal. Because he’s right. Yoongi’s sharp discernment is millimeters from your face and you have no intention to move nor speak. Only quick breaths. Only shaky exhales. 

But you do swallow.

Which brings out a sound you will never admit you like: a breathy, condescending laugh, as coarse and as soft as his touch. 

“You mean to tell me,” he observes, tilting your chin while his irises blaze dark, “You came all the way in here for nothing?”

“No, I—”

“All that talk, and for what.” 

Defend yourself. Say something. Say just one word two words any words—

Did Yoongi just pat your cheek? ..Twice? 

Why did you kinda like that—

“Makes no sense,” he ponders aloud, lolling his head and staring down your crumpled lips. “Who even are you..” 

Now that's an easy one. You always have the answer to that question. 

“No one,” you whisper. “Sorry to disappoint you.” 

Seems like the people back home aren’t the only ones you’ll let down. If Yoongi keeps that question loaded in the chamber, he’s gonna keep shooting the same target. Over, and over, and over. 

But you don’t have to worry. Because he drops it, caging you in with a hand near your stiff, risen shoulder, “So what are you here for.” 

This is a mistake. Either Yoongi doesn’t want this, or he’s being frustrating on purpose and your fire is both stoked and quelled. “Now I don’t know for sure.” 

“The more you stall the harder it gets,” he goads with a lick of teasing. And for a split, minuscule second, you wonder if that meant more than one thing.

Goddamn, he’s annoying. He’s outright savoring this. 

Maybe you shouldn’t be surprised. You woke him up for god’s sake. If someone did this same thing to you after the day you’ve had, you wouldn’t have even let them in. 

Unfortunately for you, Yoongi’s version of dealing with a midnight inconvenience is whittling them down until they leave— 

“So you can tell my bellhop off but I get nothing, huh.” 

Oh, shit. 

Oh, shit. 

You’re so taken aback that you can only ask, “What?” 

Mercifully, the dragon gives you air, straightening before leaving your personal space. 

Your focus should be on his words. You know this. But he uses this moment to rake his hair, and words are no match for the sleeve cascading down his inked forearm. 

Even as his hair flows in waves, you still cling to his tattoos as he looks downward in thought. “You think I wouldn’t check who the fuck was coming up here?” 

It takes you a second to process. 

But you realize what this means and you fall silent again.

Yoongi saw that? All of that? You acted without much thought, and if he really did see and hear everything that went down, there’s a chance he thinks a lot differently about you now. No wonder he’s so thrown by this switch in behavior. 

But on the other hand.. The way he touched you in the living room. Was all that because of what he saw? Is that side of you the one that pulled him close? 

You thought his parting would allow you room to breathe. How very wrong you were. 

Shoving all contemplation aside, you decide to coat the room with concern, your assertion making a brief comeback, “He said a lot of shit, Yoongi. What was that about?” 

He languidly approaches the long table at your side—one you faintly noticed while leaving the room the first time. Unbothered, he slides unhurried fingers over a gun, stopping on the barrel before reaching for something less lethal. 

A decanter, it seems. Liquid flows from the container into a smaller glass, and you assume it’s whisky from the deep amber tones and luscious pour.

When you wonder where else Yoongi litters his weapons, he cuts through your surveying, 

“You really wanna know?” 

Looking up, you nod. 

He sets the bottle down with a dull clink. “He took his chances.” 

“His.. What?” 

Now what the hell could this man mean by that? You were clearly being coaxed into leaving the premises, vaguely feeling like something seemed off. How is he being so dismissive about all this? 

Slowly, Yoongi shakes his head, looking out into the night while taking his initial sip. “I don’t come here often. But when I do, I come alone.” Long fingers nestle his cup perfectly as he explains further, “It’s been awhile, so. Had to feel out the staff.” 

The staff. Is that why Yoongi held your hand? To weasel someone out? You really thought he meant it when he said he just wanted to… 

How naive. 

“His plan could’ve been solid.” 

“But what?” You ask, newfound frustration clipping your tone. 

Yoongi slides you a look over the rim of his glass. “He didn’t know who he’d be dealing with.” 

Your eyes roll so far they strain.

But this begs a question. Does he mean dealing with you? Or him? Surely he meant your little show at the elevator but he could very well mean himself. 

Facts are facts. Would Yoongi really trade il-don for you? Absolutely not. So you have to assume he’s mostly talking about the latter. 

Your scoff is pitched to the side, “Of course. You wouldn’t trade il-don for anything.” 

Yoongi pauses, not acknowledging your comment in the slightest as he strolls back your way. “Something I am curious about..” As he leans in, musk and whisky invade both your space and senses. And you hate, hate, hate that you need more of it. “Who was he talking to?” 

“Someone he royally pissed off.” 

“Mm.” 

“You’re not gonna punish him?” 

“Me? Nah.” Leaning on the sideboard, he stares out the windows across the room. Your vision follows suit. “Not until I have to.”

If what happened wasn’t enough to warrant a punishment, you’re morbidly curious about what ticks the box. “I figured he’d be dead by now. At least for trespassing.”

Yoongi only shrugs. “Grey zones aren’t just amnesty for the clans. Anything goes here, too, so a ransom attempt isn’t surprising.” 

This man really doesn’t stand on black or white. Here you are with eggs for brains discovering you were almost taken instead of saved, and he’s chalking it up to, what, just another Tuesday? Or is it still Monday? You don’t even know anymore. 

Your question leaves you a little scuffed. Because you feel exactly like leftover goods. The fruit at the back. “Are you always this heartless?”

“So I’ve been told.” 

Great. 

So much for being… Safe up… here… 

You glance at the touch on your hip, and your eyes traverse up his arm as he toys with your belt again. 

Shouldn’t you feel disgusted? Shouldn’t you be walking away? It’s crystal clear how little this man thinks of you, or anyone for that matter. He probably brought you along just to be a shield for his precious il-don. So why can’t you bring yourself to leave? 

Your knot starts to loosen.

His voice begins to flow.

“But if you’re gonna go for what’s mine, don’t be an idiot.” 

Wait.

No. Nope. Stop thinking about what that could mean. Because if you think too hard, it will only leave you disappointed. 

But there’s something you won’t stop doing. And Yoongi knows you won’t. So as he keeps playing at your waist, your words come out in shudders, 

“Can’t believe you used me.” 

Yoongi hums, and it makes you shiver when his touch leaves you to rest against wood counters. “You’re about to use me, too.” 

Fucking hell, he’s right. 

“Gotta say I didn’t expect it, but..” Damn him and his head tilts. “I’m impressed.” 

You’re too empty-headed that you can’t even process his words as genuine praise. His touches already feel like pops of lights in the night sky.

It’s a given. You aren’t prepared for him in the slightest.

“Come here.” 

Lightly pulling your hand, Yoongi brings you to stand in front of him. And from this point of view, you become even more ensnared. 

His robe flows down his taut build so beautifully, painting him like dark water over rolling hills. At his peak, the hair you’ve come to miss frames his face like artwork. Mesmerizing. Your downfall. 

“You get one more chance. Tell me why I’m awake.” 

Your brow lift is only a front. The rest of you is shaking, trembling, howling. “You clearly know.”

“Tell me anyway.” 

Relentless. Will you shame yourself for wanting to see him use this same strategy on other people? Most likely. But will that stop you from thinking about it anyway? Absolutely, positively not. 

But there’s another side of you that’s being comforted. And it’s the side that realizes how much he’s spoken, how much time you’ve spent without needing to watch behind your back. 

Yoongi talking this much? It’s making things easier. And it’s strangely making you feel a little better, even if the subject matter isn’t the greatest topic in the universe. 

After you steal a glance at the other whisky glass, you look into his eyes. Determined and decisive. Knowing exactly what you want at this very moment, because you just need a little more time. 

“Tell me more. About grey zones.” 

Something in the air freezes. And Yoongi’s brows crease so comically you almost laugh. “That’s it?” 

“Yes.” 

His nod is slow as he sets down his glass.

And you’re quickly hauled back so fast that you don’t have time to react. 

A rush of air. The world topples. Soft sheets. 

Dangerously, a thin chain sways above as Yoongi shrouds your body in silk and lingering smoke. A gasp escapes you as he peers into your eyes, and your senses fire as a commanding hand slides up your thigh. 

“Final answer?”

Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck you know you want him and you still do but also talking to him isn’t half bad and maybe you’re just tired of being lonely— 

Musk. Alcohol. Breathing hard, you take it all in. Slowly nodding because you can’t function otherwise, which makes a dragon flash teeth. 

But he obliges without moving a muscle, so you’re left underneath a demon—robe dangerously close to opening and exposing everything once again.

A man of conviction, Yoongi does exactly as you ask. Eyes drooped, he continues his explanations, as if he didn’t just shove you into his enormous bed and tangle you under his legs, 

“They started awhile ago, back when all the high-powers got locked in a grudge match. Took half the city with them.” 

Immediately, your shoulders start to sink into his tale. “Half is a lot.” 

“Everything went to shit,” he agrees. “Not even the Politicol could stop it all.” 

“Bullshit.”

His level expression is enough to refute.  

Now that’s a shock to learn. For as long as you can remember, the Politicol have always held more power than any force should ever have. If they weren’t able to keep this under control, the high-powers used to be ungodly. 

Staring at the slippage on Yoongi’s shoulder, you wonder if those ink lines are to immortalize the ones that came before him. The history he must’ve grown up memorizing. 

Still.. Why does he have them all? There’s no way he doesn’t know how disrespectful that is to all three clans. 

But then again. He said he didn’t choose them himself. Which leads you nowhere in this unending maze. 

Head disheveled; robe coming undone. To outsiders, you’d be at Yoongi’s mercy. 

But in reality, you’re laser focused on him and his explanations. Especially when his voice scratches every itch just right. “So…” You watch his gaze slowly slide down your face. “What happened?”

Even now, Yoongi’s hands stay exactly where they are. The only thing that moves is the tinkling swing of his silver above your warming neck. “Deals were made, stripping power from all of them in certain sectors so that none could completely take over.” 

“Why only in certain ones?” 

A corner of his mouth quirks up. “Let’s just say the negotiations went how you think they did.” 

Your eyes roll yet again. But another question pings into your mind as quick as the first one, knitting your brows. “Wait… Deals with the Politicol? Or each other? No way they would’ve let cowards put them all on a leash.” 

At this, something interesting passes over Yoongi’s face.

But it flits away before you can snatch it for further inspection, and the shift of his leg against your thighs resets your brain. 

“Any of the clans could’ve monopolized if they had the right resource, but. They weren’t ever gonna let outsiders get a piece. Called a truce and kept their mouths shut.” 

Makes sense. You know exactly what resource he’s referring to. “The il-don.” 

“That’s part of it.” He shifts again, but this time, your legs have more room to move. “But grey zones have priority infrastructure. The ones that keep the lights on. If you had the money, you had the people. And people are the best resource there is.” 

It’s at this moment that a lot of things click into place. 

And one of those is figuring out that you may have been a little wrong about the man above you. 

Is he heartless? To a high degree. But that comes with being calculating. Patient. Smart. Everything that Yoongi has been this entire time you’ve tagged along. 

He’s not keeping the il-don safe because he treasures it. It’s because the money is a tool. A tool to help him get what he wants whenever he needs. And leverage it for value instead of frivolous decisions and material things. 

Yoongi must have really, really enjoyed your tangerines.

A stray touch finally makes its way inside your thigh. And you flare between your legs. Shivering. Aching. You’re sparkling inside but won’t allow yourself to fully explode. Not when he’s revealing so much without telling. Not when you’re starting to see things from his angle. 

“Keep talking,” you rush out, gripping his robe and squeezing his pelvis. 

Though his fingers still light flares on your skin, Yoongi stops in his daring quest, observing your face without judgment. 

“I like it,” you shakily admit. Because screw it, since you’ll never see him again. “Learning about all this.” 

You sigh at his weight. His beautiful, strangely calming weight. “About you, too.” 

Stopping all movements, Yoongi coats your skin with gravel. “What good will knowing all this do.” 

He’s got a point. And it hammers home exactly what you were just thinking. “Nothing, maybe,” you answer, squeezing his robe a little longer. 

Fuck, you really are this deprived. This lonely. Is bedding a dangerous man—this dangerous man—really better than being alone right now? A mental reset is outstandingly in order throughout the coming abysmal months.

You finish your weak explanation, hoping it’s enough to convince him, 

“But it’s helping.” 

Yoongi lifts his head to watch your eyes. And you observe how dark his are in return. How cold. 

But yet.. Why do you also see…?

With a slight huff, you tack on, “And you aren’t so annoying to talk to right now.” 

There it is. That spark you’ve seen before in dusty, tinkering streets. “Don’t push your luck.” 

“I might.” 

He exhales, shifting himself into a sitting position and facing the door. “The thing about grey zones.. No affiliation, no rules. You can be anyone here.” 

When you lift your upper body to sit, you watch his side profile as you repeat, “Anyone?” 

Yoongi turns to look at your lips. 

You know there’s a question you want to ask. But for some reason, it’s difficult to say. 

But eventually, you can’t help it. Because you’re intrigued. You’re haunted. And you really, really need this. 

“Then who do you want me to be.”

He lets out a cross between a scoff and a laugh. Looking into your eyes, he asks in disbelief, “You?”

“I’m pretty good at pretending.” 

“Sure you are.” He gives you another small grin before resting forearms on his knees. “But you don’t want my answer to that.” 

Swallowing is proving too difficult. What the hell does he mean by that? Is it one big bluff or a real opinion? “You’re just being a pussy.” 

All you get is the side of his cheek rising high.

Yeah. He’s not gonna tell you a damn thing. 

“Forget about me then. Who are you right now?” You wait as his expression falls back to earth. “Agust? Or Yoongi?” 

When you end with silence, you’re met with an approaching shadowed visage. And even in this moment, you sense static in the air, both of you poised and locked in a dangerous, thrilling dance. 

“You tell me.” 

Your breath cuts as he slips a finger inside your robe, and you dare not breathe when he pulls—slow, unhurried, intoxicating. 

You’ve never felt quite like this. 

Are you supposed to do something, too? Is there something that usually happens here? Your experience isn’t zero but it is clearly leagues below where it should be. 

Before you can blink a third time, your garment is ever, ever so slightly off your shoulder.

And you haven’t uttered a damn thing.

So he keeps going, sliding it lower, and lower, until he reveals a part of you that you didn’t mean to reveal so suddenly before. 

This time, it’s deliberate. And that makes it terrifying. 

This is the point of no return. The slope of your chest barely keeps your robe from dipping any farther. It’s happening, and life between you will never be the same when it’s over. 

And yet. 

Your nerves speak up at the worst time.

“Get me a drink,” you whisper, “Then maybe I will.”

Yoongi flicks up an eyebrow before obliging, and you silently mourn the loss of his heated touch. 

He walks over to pour you something neat, taking his time bringing both glasses to the bed. When you sit up properly, you habitually adjust your robe, scoffing at his hum. 

“Thanks,” you whisper, taking the glass and smelling the piercing aroma. “Maybe this is what I needed all along.”

“You ever had sex before?”

The question is so sudden and blunt that you cough up a burning sip. “Ow, fuck..” Wincing, you wipe your mouth before breathing in scratchy inhales. “If you must know, I have.”

“Maybe you are good at pretending then,” Yoongi drawls. “Could’ve fooled me.”

“Don’t get me wrong. This situation is new to me.”

His brow raises are definitely talking a lot for him. 

“I’ve just never.. I dunno. Never had just one night.” Taking a more cautious sip, you continue. “Much less with someone like you.”

“Like me?”

“With a.. You know.” You fiddle with your glass. “A customer.” 

When you hear his reaction, you stare at his raised cheek, stomach fluttering when he sighs downward,

“You can’t just say shit like that.” 

“I can say whatever I want,” you counter. “Especially since I…”

You don’t wanna finish that. It helps that Yoongi doesn’t look your way still, taking a sip of his whisky instead. His locks swing forward as he leans, and you almost reach out to feel them. Maybe you’ll get to very soon. When you finally get over this final hurdle of outright shyness. 

Why are you so timid right now? Why can’t you just tell him what you very obviously came in here for and get on with it? You’ve been decisive as fuck the rest of today, so what’s got your tongue pressed this time? Is it really your abysmal level of experience?

Or is it because you’re gravitating to more sides of him with each passing second? 

“Since you what.” 

“Since I don’t like you,” you snip. 

Yoongi flashes teeth in amusement. “Keep telling yourself that.” 

“Oh, shut up.” You take another drink, feeling the burn down your throat. “I don’t have to if it’s true.” 

Both of you keep drinking in silence after that. Which makes things a weird mix of calm and awkward, considering what your original mission was. 

Going over the events of today, it’s a wonder why you aren’t crashing into a dreamless sleep. You’ve been up and having the most exhausting day ever, and yet, you can’t imagine shutting your eyes. 

Think of something else to talk about. Anything. Any topic you could possibly hold a conversation with Yoongi over. 

What did he respond to before? No small talk, since the plantains thing from months ago was a bust. And when you conversed over ramyeon it was more of him angering you on purpose—wait a minute. 

There was something you never circled back to. 

And as soon as you ask him about it, he appears impressed you remembered, 

“Were you bluffing when you said you knew what I was shopping for?” 

“No,” he responds immediately. “And I know I’m right.” 

“Prove it.” 

Mouth curved at an annoying angle, Yoongi shoots you a look before placing his drink down, getting up to walk to a tall armoire. 

Your eyes follow his every movement, even the way his ass moves under that damned robe. But soon, your jaw goes slack not because of his assets. 

But because the motherfucker was right on the money. 

How the… How the fuck did Yoongi know? 

In front of your face lies exactly what you were searching for. Sleek. Minimal. Lightweight and visibly balanced. You don’t even want to keep shopping around because this is the only one you want. 

How did he know you were shopping for daggers based on one single line of questioning? 

“I wasn’t gonna show you until you asked,” he divulges. “Honestly, I was hoping you’d forget. This one was hard as fuck to track down.” 

Eyes flicking up to his, you ask in wonder, “Can I…?” 

He lifts it slightly, signaling that you can indeed hold it yourself. 

And it’s perfect. 

“Wow,” you breathe out, feeling along its edges and hilt. It’s all one continuous line, with metal so black and matted that you almost moan. “I don’t have much on me, but.. I’ll give you whatever you want for this.” 

“Keep it.” 

What? 

“It’s yours.” 

There’s no way he’s just gonna gift this to you. It’s perfectly crafted in material you can’t even find in Crane. And they have almost every class of ore in existence. 

Who even is this man? 

“Yoongi, this is…” You shake your head while extending it back. “I can’t just take this.” 

“You can.” He fiddles with the bracelet on his wrist. “I did.”

Oh. Charming. The weapon you’re being gifted is stolen goods. “Well, in that case, I really can’t accept it.” 

But goddamn, this is more than perfect. You can’t even pluck one finger off the handle. And you can’t change the fact that it was already taken, right? Right?

“At least…” Scowling at your own crumbling morals, you mumble, “Not without good reason.”  

He looks at you over his shoulder. “Do I need a reason?” 

“No,” you reply. “But I’d like one.” 

Yoongi sighs long before moving his fingers. “I lied to you back there in the lobby.” Looking up at a clock instead of you, he works his jaw. “But this time, it really is just that.” 

“You expect me to believe you?” 

Fuck, the veins in his hands are so prominent when he laces them together. “No. But it’s better than those chopsticks you’re saving in the bathroom.”

Oh. So he saw those, too.

“Thank you,” is what you wave in white. Because that’s exactly how you feel and this one gesture does excuse some of his faults. Maybe. Or your standards have plummeted to the gutters. “I, umm. I usually keep one for self-defence. Just in case.” 

Turning it over and back again, you marvel at its light but solid weight. “But I lost mine in the last rough raid before they suddenly stopped.”

“Don’t sweat it.” 

“K.” Placing it on the closest nightstand, you go back to holding your glass between your hands. “One day I’ll pay you back somehow.” 

Yoongi shoots that down on sight. “No need.” 

“But I want to.” 

He glares before picking up his alcohol. “Anyone that owes me shit gets treated a lot different.” The drink rests in his hand like a liquid gem. “So just accept it as a gift, doll.” 

You’d laugh if you knew he was kidding. But you know he’s dead serious, so you only nod. 

It’s quiet again as you both retreat into your minds. 

Yoongi has the mental fortitude of a fortress it seems. Because he really is set on waiting until you tell him what you woke him up for, and it’s been awhile since this all started. 

But being in his presence while the night is quiet is somewhat comforting. You’re finding it easy to think about other things now, especially after he gave you so much to mull over. 

Like grey zones and how they came to be. It’s fascinating how you had no clue even though you should. Even though this whole conflict affected half the city. 

Wanting to gain more insight, you blurt your curiosity, “How long ago were the grey zones fought over? Before everything was decided?” 

“Years. Decades, at this point,” Yoongi answers, his gaze locked as you think about this timeline. “Most people don’t even bother knowing, though.”

“Why? This sounds like a big part of our history.” 

“No one cares if a Crane kills a Dragon.” His tone shifts slightly. And you wouldn’t have caught it if not for his subtle sulk. “They only resent the blood they have to wipe from the street.” 

Your lids lower all the same. Because that resonates deep within your chest, so much so that you feel your heart bend in its aching. “No one cares about us, either.” 

When Yoongi catches your look, you give a sad excuse of a smile. “Being a vendor? Especially where I am? You quickly figure out how little you matter. You as a person, I mean.” 

You slide fingers along the tiny rim of your glass, lost in the fibers of his rug more than anything else. 

Maybe you’re just a loose fiber in the rug of this city. One that will pretend to run only to be swept back into the folds. “The only things that people remember are what you offer. Anything other than that isn’t worth their time.” 

Lifting your chin, you save face. “Can’t say I won’t miss you.” May as well admit it all if you aren’t ever gonna see him again. “You were the only one that ever let me bother them.” 

“You never bothered me.” 

You look up to see him staring. Lip curled upward, you huff. “With all the looks you gave me? I find that hard to believe.” 

Yoongi doesn’t laugh in return. “What would I gain from lying?” 

Mm. That’s an interesting question. But the alcohol starts to talk for you as you have the balls to flirt. “People lie to get laid, for one.” 

“Mm.” He takes a measured sip of his glass, the last dredges of it swaying at the bottom. “Can’t say I’ve ever needed to.” 

“Shocker,” you drawl, sipping to match his pace. And it’s after this drink that you loosely admit, “This is really good, by the way.” 

“Yeah?”

“Mmhmm.” Lifting the glass to peer inside, you swirl it around before divulging a past you don’t talk about—ever. But what are rules of conversation when you want to stall? “My uncle got me into whisky a long time ago. But fruit stands don’t pay for top shelf alcohol.” 

“Where’s he at now?” 

“Uhh.” You look away. “Gone.” 

“Sorry to hear that.” 

He gets up, and you watch in silence as he makes his way to the sideboard. Stuff shifts around before he appears to pour another glass. And he stays there for a bit, black robe blending into all the dark decor. 

“Yoongi?” 

He turns. 

“Can you keep talking?” You keep your drink steady between your robed legs. Buzzed and vulnerable, you offer an explanation, “Turns out there’s a lot I wanna forget right now.”

Like endings. And future endless days without your most frustrating, most dangerous, most favorite customer. 

Yoongi pauses before walking back to the bed. When his thighs settle next to yours, he asks without much heart, “What do you wanna know.”

“You.”

His jaw shifts, and you feel a slight tug in your chest. 

Was that too forward? Probably. But you’ll take what you can get, like a last meal chosen to hit every one of your desires. “Anything you wanna tell me, of course.”

Yoongi remains quiet. Which isn’t unexpected but still a little letdown. 

“Not much to tell.” 

Ah. Just more lies then. Maybe you should stick to the original plan. “Nothing at all?”

He looks at you, planting a hand on the bed to lean a little closer. “Nothing you’d wanna hear.”

You shift between his eyes. Wondering if it’s better not knowing or if you really do wanna give in. 

Perhaps his eyes will speak for him instead. Glowing dark. Hints of ember and smoke. Years and years squeezed into those irises. 

“What if I do,” you quietly question, catching the light on his alcohol-tainted lips. 

Reaching out, you boldly place a thumb over one side, slowly brushing off excess liquid and marveling at how soft he is there. Tender, just like his name. “What if I don’t care.”

Yoongi waits for a moment before holding your wrist, the atmosphere trembling and buzzing around your shoulders. Oxygen depletes as he leans in close, his beautiful features almost touching yours. 

You feel something locking into place. Something beautiful and terrifying. And it holds you down as you feel his hair, his warmth, his—

A noise blares into the room before you can feel yourself rushing upward, your body reacting on survival instinct alone. Glasses spill onto the rug and you don’t know what’s happening but lack of sleep lack of comfort lack of everything has you ready for—

Time stops. 

Sounds muffle. 

And your eyes flash wide as you see the tip of your blade pointed straight at Yoongi’s side. 

Just as he’s poised with a gun pointed towards the door. 

It’s a phone ringing. 

A fucking. Telephone. 

What have you done?

As Yoongi slowly shifts his gaze to your outstretched hand, you tremble in severe regret. Regret that you pulled this on him with the very weapon he gave you. Regret that he knows all there is to know about how you still feel about him. 

But you didn’t mean to… You didn’t even think. And you abhor how you directed your fear at the one person that kept you alive. The one person you fucking saved. 

When Yoongi lowers his gun, he doesn’t acknowledge the guilt on your face. But as he walks away to grab his device, his gaze flicks back to you before he answers across the room. 

Shit. 

You fucked up you fucked up you fucked up. 

You weren’t lying when you said you wouldn’t care. You really weren’t. But who knows what Yoongi will think of you after that shock of a face off. 

Coming into his room was most definitely a mistake. Now you can’t wrangle your emotions for shit, head pounding with feelings and outcomes and adrenaline to the brim. 

Yoongi’s close to the wide bathroom stairs, so you can’t hear what’s being said. He does keep looking at you, though, which keeps your fingers pressed against a hilt. 

Are you in danger? Will Yoongi not want anything to do with you anymore? Is it alarming that you can’t decide which one is worse? 

The call doesn’t last long.

And as soon as he hangs up, you’re sputtering like a broken fountain, dagger still wielded as he stalks forward—phone clunking to the ground. “Who was that.” 

“No one.”

“What’s gonna happen to me.” 

“Nothing.” 

Fuck. You really did fuck everything up. Your brain is so battered that you’re gonna be skittish and paranoid for a long, long time. “Yoongi, I’m so—I didn’t mean to—It just happened—”

Forget it. It’s over. Your last interaction will haunt you forever and the only way you’ll experience what could’ve happened between you will be in your wildest darkest sweetest illest—

Burns flare at your eyes when Yoongi’s chest meets the quivering tip of your blade. 

“Stop,” you wince out, a damning tear pinging to your feet. “Just stop.” 

He starts to walk forward, which alarms you enough to step back because what the fuck is he doing! Why can’t your arms move? Why can’t you lower the fucking dagger? 

“I can’t,” you croak. “I can’t move.”

You’ve been firing on all fronts the whole day. Even in your dreams, you’re in survival mode. You can’t unlock your arms because they fight for the rest of you. Your legs propel you when the rest of you wants to give up. 

But that still doesn’t stop your heart from aching. It burns, it burns, it burns. 

When Yoongi grips your wrist, you choke on a sob. When he calls you smart, you squeeze your eyes shut in shame. And when he whispers to drop the fucking blade or he’ll do it for you, you do so after a maddening pause. 

It clunks to the ground when a gun does, and you’re suddenly spun until the backs of your knees hit something solid. 

Immediately, you’re thrust back onto dark sheets again, tears now rolling into your ears as you instinctively let Yoongi smother you whole. 

His hand slides to your inner thigh, and your mind reels when you start feeling a hardness on your stomach. Breath whooshes out of your mouth before you're covered in silk and muscle, and pleasure bursts from where he quickly devours your neck fuck.

Hands are quick to untie your robe as fire stokes your throat. 

“I won’t ask again,” he vows with a voice that rumbles. “Tell me what you fuckin’ want.” 

“Yoongi—” 

“Say it and it’s yours.” 

“Make me forget,” you shove through your teeth. “Just make me fucking forget.” 

“How.” 

Fuck lack of experience. Fuck being shy. You aren’t wasting another damn second and your emotions need all the release they can get. Loose lips, loose tongue, looser inhibitions.

The monster inside of you yanks at its chain, claws and claws at its confines screaming at you to give in. You need this. You want this, especially if Yoongi himself is gonna give it so willingly.

Just say it. Just say it.

“If this really is the last time I’ll see you…” 

Yoongi stills as your eyes lock unblinking. 

Tell him. Four words. 

“Fuck me like it.”

A proverbial chain snaps as Yoongi dives into your neck, ravishing you and sucking hard on your vein. When you yelp, your clenched legs seem to encourage, and he thrusts forward to launch you up the bed with a purpose. With intention.

All to let you know what you just got yourself into.

His fingers light little fires along your skin, burning everything in their paths up your arms, your sides, squeezing into your imperfections and latching down. His lips set your being ablaze as he keeps feasting, causing your breaths to get shorter, and shorter, and shorter. 

“So sensitive..” 

When you feel the warm swipe of a tongue, your eyes scrunch shut as you shudder. Which makes the whole thing worse for you when Yoongi chuckles dark in return. 

“I don’t think you’re ready for this.” 

“Shut up,” you huff out, grasping for his robe and raking at his sleeves. “Of course I am—Fuck.”

His thumb rolls across your exposed nipple, pinching it to make you arch right up into his chest. “You sure?” 

When the hell did he even open your robe? How did he do that so quick without you knowing? 

You bite down on your lip to keep from screaming, nodding in determination while your brows almost kiss. 

Watching your expression, Yoongi pinches again, biting his own lip while slowly spreading that shit grin. Your moan comes out more like a muted hum, which seems to displease. 

“Uh uh,” he orders. “You’re gonna be loud for me.”  

“But what if someone—” 

“They won’t.” 

He continues in his control, sliding a hand under your thigh to hitch it up before shoving it to the side. 

And you know where he’s going. But it still shocks you all the same when his fingers make contact with your slick. 

Your very, very wet slick. 

Many, many things will haunt you for life. Your experiences. Your choices. 

But right now? The only thing that will follow you to your grave is this distinct, biting, staccato batch of laughter. “You shouldn’t’ve ever come in here.” 

Breath ragged, you watch as Yoongi concentrates, exploring your cunt with his long digits and hitting every nerve with perfection. When you rub against him, he growls, lifting shiny fingers to insert right into his mouth. 

Sucking. 

Licking. 

And your eyes mirror his at once—as black and pulsing as fallen stars. 

He swoops down at the same moment you tug on his clothing, his mouth latching onto the side of your neck he hasn’t ravaged. Impatient, his hand yanks the bottom of your robe to the side, fully exposing your legs and leaking folds while you grapple with your own obstacles. 

It’s messy. It’s jilted. It’s exactly what you want. 

As soon as you find the slit in his robe, you take a brave leap and reach for his cock, not knowing what you’re gonna find but having a vague idea based on his—

Oh. What.

Fuck, he’s gonna split you in two. 

You’ve held one before. You know what they feel like. But this cannot be possible and you’re already mentally preparing yourself for your breaking point. 

“You good?” 

You snap your head right up, realizing how stunned you must be if he’s asking. “I… You’re fucking huge.” 

Yoongi doesn’t react, but that somehow makes it more attractive. Like he knows. And he doesn’t deny a thing. “That a problem?” 

“I mean… I think I’ve lived a good enough life.” 

To your surprise, the man above breaks completely as you keep blabbering, shoulders shaking alongside those stupid dimples. Those beautiful, elusive dimples. Too bad this is the last time you’ll ever see them. “Did what I wanted.. Not everything, but most of my list.” 

Yoongi’s still chuckling. And for a brief moment, you’re brought back to the days he was just a patron. Back to when you would think about him before bed, delighted to see him stop by. 

This is him. This is Yoongi with you now. 

Where was he this whole time? Was he really waiting until you answered him for real? 

You went so far into your head that you missed the change in position. So it makes you jump like hell when you realize where his teal mop of hair resides. “Wait, wait, wait. What are you doing?” 

Between your thighs, Yoongi lifts a brow, locking your legs with tough arms before you can even move. 

“Yoongi, you don’t have to—oh, fuck!” 

The first contact of his tongue on your folds makes your eyes burst, your legs effectively being pinned down in their tensing. Jolts of lust spiral from your core as he licks, sucks, twirls around your clit like it’s second nature, and you feel yourself welcoming his every thrust.

This is happening. This is happening? You’ve never done this before, not that you’ll admit it. Whatever Yoongi’s doing is completely new territory for you and you don’t ever think you’ll leave. Permanent residence. No other land to discover. 

Whines echoes throughout the room before you slap a hand over your mouth. Because the whole world will hear his name if you don’t. Especially when he adds fingers and curls them just right what the fuck! 

He makes you forget. And forget. And forget. You even forget your own name. Only his. Saying it into your palm over and over and clawing his sheets with the other. 

A low growl rumbles between your legs before you hear him purr, “Just like I fucking thought.” 

What’d he say? He didn’t say that. You’re hearing things, you’re sure of it. There’s absolutely no way Yoongi’s imagined anything about you, much less what you taste like. 

And the words keep coming as he whispers how tight you feel. How hot. How perfect you’re gonna fit him. 

While all you can utter in return is gibberish mixed with the syllables of his name. 

Pleasure rolls in waves as he learns every inch of your cunt, fingers drenched in your slick and the curves of his cheeks lathered in your scent. When he reaches beneath you to grope your ass, he gives a rough squeeze. 

“Move your fucking hand.” 

Your eyes fling wide. 

“I wanna hear you.” 

“No, I’m—there could be people—”

He clambers over you, robe wide open and revealing a body that rips your soul clean out. When he seizes your palm to shove it to the side, another monster starts to wake within your chest. 

And this one takes treacherous pleasure in those slitted eyes. 

“You’re gonna scream for me.” 

“Or else what.” 

The dark rumble. The rolling thunder. 

Your other monster is starting to match his glint. “You don’t wanna do that with me, doll.” 

“Do what?” you ask with flitting eyes. 

When all you get is a sharp smirk in return, your stomach flips in desire and excitement. So when he slaps the side of your breast, you hum high with a delighted flinch.

“Don’t say that I didn’t warn you.” 

Yes. This is what you came in here for. Your shyness will have to be comfortable with the unknown, but it’s also helping seeing Yoongi much more relaxed. 

Like a normal person. 

Especially when he leans over to open his bedside drawer, hair swaying as he grabs for what you think are condoms. 

Your hunch is right when he rights himself again, teeth nicking a wrapper before tearing it in one sweep. When you start to clench your legs together in response, he shoves them back open with a thigh, robe parting to show exactly what’s going to splice you in half. 

You’ll gladly take his amusement at your jaw unhinging. Because what you see is heaven sent. 

Yoongi says nothing as he wraps himself fully, and he continues to be silent as you whisper, 

“I wanna see you.” 

It doesn’t take long for him to understand. As his length presses against your core, he slips off his dark robe, letting it slide down equally dark sheets before pouring onto the floor. 

You’re just as quiet as he situates himself above your beating heart. Which is for the best. Your thoughts are better left unsaid. 

All you can do is grip his arm, sliding your hand up until you can finally, finally brush his hair with your own fingers. Exhaling when you discover how soft it feels. How comfort can be found in something as trivial as tendrils.

“This is helping, too,” you murmur to his lips, inhaling what you realize is your own scent. 

When he cradles your chin, your breath cuts. “Things happen when you say what you want.” 

“If only it was always that easy.”

“It is with me.” 

Your heart skips twice before tripping on itself, and you instinctively curl your palm against his head. “Everyone around you must be so lucky.” 

An eyebrow lifts before he huffs. “Not talking about just anyone, love.” 

…Huh? 

What does he mean by that because shit you’re getting tugged forward he’s so strong—

“Now, if you’re gonna be difficult,” Yoongi warns. “Let’s give you enough time to reconsider.” 

Your thighs widen as he positions himself at your entrance, cockhead rubbing along your folds as you tense. 

“Uh uh.” He hums. “This is what you want, yeah?”

“It’s been awhile,” you spat, rolling your eyes when he shoots you a knowing look. “Just… give me a second.” 

Obliging, Yoongi starts slow, making your head roll into the pillow as you accommodate his girth. Holy fuck, he’s big. But he’s sliding in easy after his little feast down there, which you piece together as one big prep for the main course. 

“Fuck,” he groans, resisting every urge to plow straight into you. At least, from what you can decipher in his pinched features. If this feels amazing for you, you can’t even imagine what he must be feeling now. It only gives you butterflies knowing he’s following through with his word. “So fucking tight.” 

“Not my fault you take up… so much space,” you grit through your teeth, neck straining as you blow air to the ceiling. 

Fully sheathed, Yoongi rests inside until your muscles relax. And you only peel your eyes open when you start to slip into more pleasure than anything else. 

Okay. You can do this. You can fit him surprisingly well—maybe too well—and you’re okay to keep going without restraint. 

When you peer down your body, you expect him to look bored or indifferent. Like he’s wasting time dealing with you. 

So it makes you shiver when Yoongi looks ready to ruin. 

Toned arms flex at his sides, hands keeping your thighs held in their place. When a strand of vibrant hair falls, his chains spark in the moonlight streaming in from the windows. A dragon that waits. And waits.

You’re ready. Your demise will be your reward. 

“I’m good,” you assure him. “You can move now—”

A second invisible chain snaps with a clink, and Yoongi launches into a thrust that has you seeing stars. You tumble through the dark as he thrusts again, mouth open with silent yells before you gnaw right into your lip. 

“Relax for me,” he commands. “Just like that.” 

Your cunt hugs him tight as you bounce even harder, his little grunts of praise making you mewl and whimper in bursts. 

Fucking hell, this feels good. 

You cannot wait to find out how it’ll feel when you piss him off. 

His hands grip your hips, hosting you up onto his thighs as he thrusts hard into your cunt. Your body rocks in an arch, limp and at his mercy—which there is very little of. Enchanted, your  lip tightens with the pull of your teeth, eyes squeezing shut as he feels so fucking good and hitting. Just. Right. 

It all carries you so far gone that as soon as you feel a rush of air, the sting on your ass makes you react—piercing moan making both of you freeze.

And Yoongi’s eyes deepen a shade as he slowly grins. “There you go.” 

“Don’t act like you—fuck!” His second swat has you grunting through your teeth, and his thrust forward at the same time he does it again has you whining. Monosyllabic, his name shoves out of your lungs, with each part more chipped than the next. 

“What’s that, love?”

“Yoongi, please—”

“That’s right.” He clutches your sides so damn rough. “Say my fuckin’ name.” 

And his pace pitches you into the sun, rocking so hard you won’t be surprised if the bed frame snaps in half. In thirds. In sevenths. Your legs go completely limp as he drives in, filling you and hitting a spot that pierces your eyes with stars and light and lust. Down down down you spiral, up up up you go. It’s only you and him now, with Yoongi plowing into you like his life ends come morning. 

There’s nothing in the world that feels like this. Burdened by the dangerous weight of a man—this man—while feeling so light you could float? Absolutely nothing can compare. 

Your body finally rests as he stops, but you get no breather as he flips you over with strong arms. Disoriented, you squeak as he tugs you backward, your ass rising in the air as your head is shoved into luxury cotton. 

Sweet pain sears your ass again, and you gasp with wide eyes as you feel his cock at your entrance. “What are you—”

“Lift up. Higher.” He slides his dick up your folds. “You’re gonna like this.” 

“You don’t speak for me—”

He thrusts into you as soon as you get accustomed to his length and size. And the place his thumb presses makes you scream into your pillow. His pillow. A hotel suite pillow that you’re biting to stay afloat. 

How the fuck does that feel so good? How does all of this feel so good? His thumb on your asshole already has you melting, but the smacking of his sack against your clit makes you want to repent.

“So fucking—fuck.”

Drool strings from your mouth as your arms are tugged at the elbows, your whole upper body coming up for air. Precious precious air that’s cut off when Yoongi chokes you from behind.

“Yoo—!”

His strength slams your chest into the headboard, right at the edge of the bed before you feel the force of his palm hit the wall. 

“What did I fucking say.”

“A lot.”

“I’m gonna hear you.”

“But—”

He shoves you flush against dark wood, your cheek smushing hard and your lips curling. “Let them hear you, too.” 

You keep your moans muted until fingers are shoved down your throat. And you gargle until he yanks them out. 

“That’s it. I know you can take it.”

“You’re easier…” Gritting your teeth in a smug grin, you taunt in a bold-faced lie, “Easier to take than I thought.”  

His laughter is not lighthearted. “You’re still gonna go there, huh.” 

“I don’t know what you mean,” you pout, eyes drooping from the euphoric shocks his thrusts provide. Sweat rolls down your arms as you slip on the wall, but it gives your chest a cool surface to rest. “Go where?” 

Suddenly, the grinding stops. And your cunt feels abandoned as he pulls out so fast. When you think to spin around, he spanks your ass with a harsh, “Don’t move.” 

Do you want to disobey? Yes. But you’re more curious than anything, so do as he says.

And your eyes light up when you realize what he comes back with. 

“Now… I could use this,,” he warns, pressing a silky smooth robe tie along your neck. “Since you don’t wanna behave.”

“Do it,” you taunt, wishing like hell that he does. Yes, yes, yes. You’re drunk on lust and volcanic want and you will fight for nothing more. “You won’t.” 

Your neck is rocked back before you feel him slap your ass. “Then stay still.” 

And you obey as you feel your belt—or his, either one—wrap loosely around your column before it’s tied. 

Gently, your chin is turned, and you’re surprised when you’re met with stern eyes. “Can you breathe.” 

Blinking, you nod. “Yeah, I can.” 

“Two taps if you’re out, understand?” 

“Yes.” 

A swift pat to your cheek. “What’d I say.” 

“Two taps,” you repeat, figuring out fast that you’re liking this development a little too much. “If I’m out.” 

Holy fuck the yank you feel is exhilarating, your body bending back as shock overcomes your senses. 

Lidded eyes staring down at yours, he vows, “You better make them count or we never do this again.” 

“I will, I will,” you rasp out, breath still coming to you fine albeit a little more harshly. “I promise.” 

“Good girl.”  

Wait, did he say again? 

As he slips right back inside, you lose all passing trains of thought. Cunt filled while his fingers clog your mouth makes you traverse to another plane. Every part of you, at his mercy—

Then he yanks you backward and all that mercy burns in the flames of heaven. Flocks to the clouds of hell.

The belt is completely taut as you succumb to his thrusts. Hard. Fast. Rough thrusts make you cry out as he toys with you, gravelly hums tumbling down your back as you arch for him. All the sounds you make echo throughout the room, a symphony of mewls and moans as Yoongi controls your every move. 

“Take it.”

“Hmm?”

“You want it,” he repeats. “So take it.”

Oh. Oh, he wants you to—Oh.

You start moving back and forth, doing exactly as he says. Taking what’s yours for the night and shamefully not forever.

But it turns out it’s not enough because he tugs. 

“Like you fucking mean it.”

Fuck.

Groaning, you move with more intention, sliding up and down his cock and feeling full every time. It feels good having control, you muse, and imagining him watching your debauchery turns you on that much more.

Your thrusts turn to rough slams, friction running fast while you chase it with all your strength. The groans you hear sound primal, hissed taunts egging you on.

“Guess you can listen after all.” 

“Fuck you.”

Another hard yank. 

Your laugh only spurns him on. 

Slaps to your ass, grabs to your breasts. Yoongi is worshipping every inch of you and you won’t even notice this until nights later when you’re alone. You’ll remember the way he squeezes just right, the way he fits so well, the places he hits with no hesitation nor guesswork. It’s pure experience strangling you with passion and you don’t even know how to embrace it all.

But then you start to feel it. Your breath tapering. It’s getting harder and harder to suck in air and you’re starting to see stars across your eyes. 

When you reach an alarming point, you quickly slap his leg twice, oxygen gushing into your lungs right as he lets go. 

You almost come on that exhilaration alone. Adrenaline pumps pumps pumps into your veins, eyes blowing black as he spins you around.

Hot, open mouth kisses pepper your burning throat, and you have the nerve to catapult him all the way back onto the bed. 

Yoongi lets you top him with a laugh, and you immediately use this opportunity to pin him down with a chokehold. Wanting him to feel the same way you just did. Knowing deep in your soul that he wants it, too.

“Cute.”

“You asshole.” 

Holy fuck, you can’t even recognize your own voice. It’s hoarse. It’s rugged. 

It’s salacious.

He cocks a brow while peering down his nose. “You done?”

“What?” You blink. Slowly releasing his neck, you admit with a rasp, “No, that’s not what I.. I’m not done with you.” 

Yoongi slides into a smirk, and you attempt to scoff with a burning throat. 

You wanna tell him how good he is. How stupidly attentive he is. But all you settle for is something neutral. Safe. And maybe a little forward. 

“Just felt like calling you that.” 

Yoongi’s smile mellows into a line, and if you weren’t in such an evocative position, you would have thought it was genuine contemplation. But he slides hands up your thighs before slapping the side of your ass. “Get on.” 

Fuck. You don’t really know how. At least, you don’t know how to do it without showing him you aren’t used to it. 

So the confidence will keep getting faked. With a little help of your quick wit and tongue as you grab his length. “Didn’t hear a please.” 

Yoongi huffs out amusement. “I don’t say that.” 

His tip goes in fine. Fuck. Okay. You can do this you can do this. “Why am I not surprised—!” 

He shoves you down as soon as you give him enough leeway, and you groan out as you catch yourself with hands on his chest. 

“This is where you’re gonna live,” he says with confidence, laughing in condescension when you scowl. “Fuckin’ love it.” 

He can’t say stuff like that. 

You ride until you find a rhythm, rolling your body and finding the friction you want. It’s there for the taking. And he’s encouraging you with gravelly words and hums, with hands up your stomach and grasping your chest. 

After a single swirl of your hips, he throws his bed back until his neck strains. “Fuck.”

So you take that cue, rotating between rides and swirls. When he tweaks and rolls thumbs around your nipples, you clench hard around him, and he does it until you moan to the ceiling. 

A slap to your breast makes you whine, and you keep going before leaning forward, placing hands against his shoulders and bouncing your hips on his cock. 

“—a fucking natural,” Yoongi praises, chuckling to himself as he toys with the silk streaming down your neck. 

“Maybe I’ve just practiced.” 

“Show me more then.” 

Quickly, he tugs you down flush against him before grabbing your ass, slamming you down and pistoning up until you scream.

You start biting his shoulder to quell your shouts, which makes him moan loud enough to make you possessive. Wildly possessive. Before long, you feel yourself going limp on him, only for him, solely for his pleasure and yours. 

“Just like that. There you go.” 

You mewl into his skin as he grabs you, holding you down as he slams into you again and again and again. Drunk with power, you begin to mark his throat, devouring and feasting with reckless abandon.

Growling ragged, Yoongi flips your position and pins you face down, shoving up hard into your cunt before plowing. You fully lean into the yells now, saying his name and inching over the goddamn edge of the bed.

It’s there. Your release. It’s potent and it’s visceral and it’s everything you need need need—

“Yoongi, I’m close—”

He penetrates so far that you can taste him, and you come so harshly that you convulse. Squeezing like hell and quivering in a full body fold.

Holy shit, the screams. Is that you? 

The sinister laughs of pride prove you right. “That’s my girl. Fucking scream.”

You can’t stop. All you know is extreme pleasure coursing through your veins, pulsing beautiful colors and making you arch like mad. 

But you have more to handle. Yoongi prolongs your euphoria by yanking you back only to sink into you again, hands rubbing both nipples and tongue speaking deadly sins in your ear.

“You aren’t done,” he growls. “Lemme hear you again.” 

“I can’t—”

“Liar.”

His name rips from your mouth as you surprise yourself, gushing around his length and squeezing in powerful pulses. Nothing exists. Nothing at all. Everything you know is a feeling, as vibrant and shimmering as the sun above your street back home. 

All the heat you’ve ever felt coalesces along your skin, and the words whispered in your ear slide right down with your sweat. You aren’t quite sure what you hear. But judging by your preening, it has to be praise. Dirty, dirty, sinful praise. 

When your limp weight is flipped, you allow your legs to be hoisted up with no resistance. Looking upward, you peel open lids to the equivalent of a king. A god. And your outright awe blocks your ears from catching what your dragon swears. 

“—perfect,” he grits, inserting himself into your squelching folds. “Again.” 

No fucking way you have more left in you. You’re already floating in the ether, buzzing in pleasure and sweat and ecstasy. If you come one more time you’ll be an empty shell. 

“Earn it,” you boldly rasp out, grappling a bit of your spirit and reining it back one last time. “Take it, you bi—”

Your heart leaps up your throat as you’re pitched upward, groan serrated and high as you grin in triumph because it feels so fucking rewarding when he gives gives gives. 

Letting everything go relaxes your folds, causing Yoongi to rock into you with pride and without resistance. His chain smacks against his pecs at the same pace as your bouncing chest, and you’re more than sure you’re gonna feel bruises on your legs where he sinks his claws.

Skin slapping skin. Mewls and gritted curses. Heady scent covers them all in a thick layer and you feel the light grow closer and closer, stronger this time than all the others before it. Why? Why do you know this one will pitch you over the edge for good? 

Both of you may feel the same. 

Because Yoongi suddenly shoves himself so far into you and presses his body flush against your shuddering shaking screaming form.

You pulse frantically around him, throat sore and ragged from your final cry as tears stream down your face. It feels so fucking gorgeous that it hurts, and you enter a plane so mystical it’s completely separate from your earthly vessel. The two of you become closer than one, and you feel Yoongi stutter in his groan before yanking out and ripping the condom off.

Hot spurts paint your skin—a sweaty, spent canvas that dips slow with your labored breaths. His own breathing is rough but not exhausted, and you chalk that up to the mountain of stamina and experience he has on you. 

It’s done. 

Thoroughly spent.

All the pent up emotions dissipate in a slow descent. The chaos of today finally lowers its head, your monsters making their ways back into their cages. Moonlight shines brighter. Fuller. 

Illuminating a man in silver as he slowly heads into the bathroom. 

Holy fuck. You just slept with a gangster. With a Dragon.

With Yoongi.

There’s no way you can forget this. No way you can see yourself moving past this moment, even years and lifetimes from now. It doesn’t matter if Yoongi never thinks about you again, because something transpired in this room that you’ll keep locked away in your soul forever. 

As he brings back a towel to wipe his essence from your skin, you wonder. 

Was it all worth it? 

Or will this torture you in every dream you’ll ever have? 

A palm digs into the mattress before you feel weight and jewelry. The silk around your throat is carefully undone, and lazy, heated lips descend on your neck once more.

Bliss.

Sighing, you utter his name much softer now, telling him please without knowing what for. 

“What do you want,” he whispers.

“I don’t know,” you admit in a wisp. 

Yoongi keeps worshipping your throat, and you mewl when he reaches to rub your breast in a slow squeeze. When you drag your hand down to grip his cock, he tenses with a gritty hum. 

“Careful, love,” he rumbles. “There’s a lot more I can do with you.” 

“Tell me.” Your breath starts shorting in anticipation. “Tell me everything.” 

“Nah.” When he slides forward, the bare tip of him meets your cunt, causing you to flinch with a bitten lip. “You’re just gonna have to wonder. Day, after day, after day.”

Fuck this guy with the spite of a thousand lives. You’re the one holding his cock, so how the fuck is he still being this sure of himself? 

“Put it in,” you blurt, earning his gaze of utter confusion. 

“What?” 

“Just for a second.” You stroke him, feeling slick velvet and wetness coating your fingers. “That’s the last thing I want.” 

His eyes search yours, and for the first time tonight, he’s the one that looks hesitant. “You sure…?” 

“We’ll never do this again,” you whisper. “And I know you want it, too.” 

His gaze holds yours for a moment, searching your eyes for any sense of doubt. 

When he finds none, Yoongi positions himself at your entrance, and you feel his knuckles brush your folds before he sinks in. Slowly, cautiously, extraordinarily. 

And both of you groan so full. 

“Fuck,” Yoongi glowers, teeth sharp as he grounds them hard. His arm veins strain, shifting all his ink in pretty ebbs and flows. All his stomach snaps taut, and you can’t look away from his sheer look of concentration and lust. “Fuck.” 

“Feels so good,” you gasp, enjoying the way he’s slowly grinding against your walls. All the slick from your releases allows smooth strokes, and you already feel close for yet another time. An unbelievable amount of orgasm in such a short span. You’ll never reach this peak. Not with anyone else. “What the fuck, I’m close again—”

“Shit—”

It happens in a snap. But more of a mellowed, drawn-out river flow than a full waterfall. Your eyes slowly roll before closing, and your chest arches slow as you rock back and forth on his cock. The squeezes are harder. The pulses are fuller. You’re milking him for all he’s worth, like your cunt won’t let go until it’s pumped him dry. 

Which makes Yoongi lose his absolute mind, hissing as he pulls out quick before spilling onto you all over again. Again? 

Holy fuck, again? 

As he groans up above, his eyes are wiped dark completely. Which makes you wonder how you can still see stars embedded inside. 

Was it all worth it? 

You’ve never been more achingly sure.

It’s a long shot to know if he feels the same. And an even longer one for that to truly be the case. 

But it’s okay. 

This is the first, the last, the only time you have. And it was more than you could’ve ever asked for. 

As he falls into the sheets next to you, both of you exhale harsh, hearts pounding and pounding into the bed and to the ceiling. 

You can’t even move. Every single limb is sore from base to tip, and the door looks so, so far away. 

When you whisper his name, you get a little acknowledgement at your side. Gathering all the strength you have left, you whisper, 

“I know this is when I’d be kicked out, but.. I can’t move.” 

The small puff of air you get in return sounds like a yes. But you aren’t sure until Yoongi verbally gives you a real answer, 

“S’ok.” 

All you can do is hum, noticing with a sharp pang that you feel soft towel wipes before the smooth slide of sheets up your bare skin. 

“Just stay on your side.” 

Ah. 

Well. At least you aren’t alone for a night. 

“And you.. Stay on yours,” you murmur, darkness seeping into your peripherals. 

“Mm.”

Yoongi can be as cold and heartless and calculating as he wants. But you know he’s more than what he shows. 

Because with a second sharp hit to the chest, you also realize the side you’re on is the side he was on before. He’s not gonna make you move just to keep his preference. 

Don’t think too much about it. Do not. 

“I wish everything was different,” you whisper, drifting into a dreamless sea. “I don’t want to hate you...” 

Your forehead is swept by a warm hand. You cannot lift your lids any longer, but your ears still hang onto their efforts. 

And the last thing you hear before succumbing to the dark is a lighter flick and a fact. A cold, expected, damning fact. 

“You’ll always hate me.” 

When you wake, you’re greeted by the same room you fell asleep in. 

Sunlight cuts through grey skies to shine every surface, and you breathe in a musky, comforting scent as you stretch your limbs. 

Did last night really happen? 

The soreness between your bare legs is more than enough to prove so. 

Slowly turning, you whisper to Yoongi that you’re ready to go when he is. 

Only to find out that you’re talking to no one. 

Shit.

Shooting up, you start to panic. Maybe he’s in the living room already? Getting ready to call someone to bring you back home? 

Glancing at the nightstand on his side, you don’t spot the dagger he gifted you, brain grappling with what that could possibly mean. 

Your ribs crackle when you bite back emotion. It’s all over. 

Shifting back to swing your feet onto cold fibers, you pause with swimming eyes. 

Because the blade rests ready on your nightstand, propped on a set of plain clothes in the perfect position you would need it to be.

Teeth clenched and eyes burning, you swipe it before rushing out of bed, head pulsing and a dull ache between your legs. “Fuck..” 

The shirt and pants you’re given don’t exactly fit, but you’ll take what you can get as you punch limbs through long sleeves and high pants. 

Yoongi isn’t here. 

You feel it in your whole being, and you have no fucking clue why it hurts. 

But if he’s not here…

Who do you start to hear outside the door? 

You freeze, lungs expanding as you hold multiple breaths. 

It sounds like talking. But also a myriad of sounds? 

Heading into the bathroom, you silently glide across the floor before swiping up the chopsticks. Because yes, you’re still gonna save them. For defence. For keepsakes. For a grave reminder. 

Tucking them in a pocket, you ready your dagger under your garment, pressing it flat against your skin like you were trained to do. 

Slipping out into the hallway, you hear the sounds clearer. Movement. Slides of furniture. 

What the hell is going on? 

You’re about to retreat back into the room when a man crosses in front of the hall. 

And his hair is strikingly… 

Orange?

As he catches you in his vision, he stops on a dime, hand outstretched in greeting. “Hello!” 

Your step back makes him laugh. But you’re not laughing in the slightest as you question, 

“Where’s.. Where’s Agust?” 

“Gone.” The smile spreading makes you squint. “Need to see him?” 

Your answer is immediate.

“I’d rather die.”

-

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a/n: alright before i say anything else: use the bathroom after sex, and especially after doing it unprotected!! i normally include it so this is a rare exception. but yes. please use the bathroom after, and practice safe sex always! a/n 2: WHO COULD THAT BE AT THE END THERE... ahahah but seriously, i for one am still swirly eyed just thinking about what's coming for these two.. they have no idea what's in store and i'm itching to get the next part done! a/n 3: if there's something you liked about this or a line/scene/whatever thing you enjoyed, feel free to let me know! feedback is never expected, but always appreciated. if the interest level is high, that adds motivation like no other. thank you all for reading! ++ feedback box: ⇥ of course, any reblogs/comments/messages are appreciated! ⇥ for the ones that are too shy to reblog with a review, comment on this, or send a message, i went ahead and made another anonymous form where you can send in what you think! ⇥ no emails collected, no need to put in a username. it’s literally just a comment dropbox :D feedback can be as short/sweet or as long as you’d like! ⇥ here! ++ more links: ⇥ masterlist  ⇥ minted masterlist

[daegudrama]

tell your loved ones that you love them. they know, but tell them anyway. and always.

[daegudrama]

241202 writing wrap-up:  worked on: All Along (Namkook)  word count: 7467  last sentence(s) written: He’s one of the few people in this world that I know will never push me away.