#Yoongi fanfiction | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

borathae · 5 months ago

Text

The Consequences of Fucking Up

“Your break up was messy and painful. All you want to do is to forget about him. His friends, who ever since you ended it with Yoongi see you as their bullying target, make sure that the memory of him stays fresh in your mind however, haunting you day by fucking day. While Yoongi makes it seem as if he gives no fuck about your situation. Until one night he is in front of your door. Drunk and fucking regretful.”

♥️ Requested by anonie ♥️

Pairing: Gangster!Yoongi x f.Reader

Genre: Exes!AU, Messy Break-Up!AU, Crime!AU, Cop!AU, Hurt and Comfort, Angst, Smut, a lil bit of Fluff

Wordcount: 15.9k

Warnings: lowkey they're bad for each other, but also somehow so right?, OC is such a people hater, I feel like she has mental health issues which are never addressed tbfh, she is quite the pessimist, unhealthy consumption of alcohol, smoking of cigarettes & weed (listen. i hate smoking and stand by that but it sadly fits their characters), Yoongi is kinda apathetic and cold, or is he??, IS HE???, implied violence and murder, corrupt cops & lawyers, policeman!Jungkook makes an appearance and he stole my heart tbfh :(, he is so cute that i almost sobbed, drugdealer!Hoseok makes an appearance too, there is also detective!Namjoon and smuggler!Taehyung because I love this vibe :); abuse of power, fuck Yoongi just fuck he is so ngngn, slightly protective & possessive!Yoongi, intoxicated sex, desperate!Yoongi, no foreplay, but she is not uncomfortable, choking (m.receiving), rough desperate sex, position change from sex against a sofa to missionary on said sofa, a lil bit of strength kink hihi, he cums too soon, dirty talk, tears :'), he is actually so emotional during the sex, the ending is so cheesy and cute <3, Spoiler: he is willing to change!! and he is a cutie actually, jsjsjsj sorry but i love yoongi a lot :(

Disclaimer: This is purely fiction and isn't like my usual stories. It does not portray how the boys actually are and it is not how I see them. This is a work of fiction with no correlation to real life. The type of relationships depicted in this story are far from how I normally portray my relationships and I do not advertise for such relationhips or staying in such relationships. This story is supposed to be twisted and dark & so are the relationships in it, as well as the characters. You have been warned. If you decide to continue reading, then it is out of your own free will.

a/n: now that the disclaimer is out of the way i can officially bark because woof woof fuckkcc anonie thank you so much for this idea. i had the worst and best time writing this story like nfnfnf her mental state was definitely very difficult to write, but their tension just got to me. i made the ending as cute and fluffy as possible just as you wanted hihi <3 also i love villian characters who would set the whole world on fire just to prove their dedication :) i hope this is what you imagined, because i kinda made it longer and with more plot than i planned to at first sjjsjs i couldn't be stopped jsjsj ALSO this is giving me the perfect opportunity to finally write a Kook request I got years ago ohoho

Yoongi collides with the wall, feeling the cold nuzzle of the gun press against his chin. He drops the keys and flowers he was carrying, lifting his hands in defeat.

“Careful, it’s just me”, he lulls.

“Get the fuck out of my house”, you spit, carrying murder in your eyes.

Three months prior

“So you’re breaking up with me?” he asks, gawking at you with widened eyes. He looks more surprised than he does hurt. Probably because it hasn’t actually sunk in yet.

“I am.”

“No, you’re not.�� He laughs because he never takes anything seriously.

“Yes. I am.”

“Too bad, I won’t act like it.”

“Yeah, you will.”

He laughs, “you’ve had better jokes, but I still admire the commitment.”

“You see. That’s the problem with you. Everything’s a fucking joke to you.”

He is smiling. It reaches his eyes.

“Your job, your men. Me. Everything’s a fucking joke to you. If you would have taken Sukuna’s thread seriously, Soojin would still be alive. If you didn’t fucking insult Miss Mei, you wouldn’t have lost twenty thousand in drugs and you wouldn’t have to fucking kiss asses like a beggar.”

His smile doesn’t reach his eyes anymore.

“If you would have put any kind of effort into me, I wouldn’t be leaving now. You take everything as a joke, while in reality you are the biggest joke here.”

His smile falls. You stood up and that actually scared him.

“Wait baby, wait. Princess, we can talk about this”, he argues, closing the distance with his arms stretched open. “I’ll fix the issue with Miss Mei, I promise.”

“Doesn’t matter. I’m done talking. Soojin died because of your recklessness.”

Yoongi touches your hands. He holds them, clutches them. You have never felt such a touch from him before. As if he actually loved you.

“What can I do? Tell me and I’ll do it”, he offers, caressing your knuckles.

This is what you craved for months. Affection. Attention. You were always a passing thought to him. Something to fuck and possess. Something low maintenance like all his other shit. His current touch almost makes you want to stay because for the briefest moment, your breaking heart wants to believe that he finally changed.

But you know better. He doesn’t take you seriously and if you stay, you will one day end up like Soojin. Metaphorically or not, you will end up dead because of him.

“There is nothing you can do. Sorry.”

You slip out of his touch.

“Baby”, Yoongi follows you with panicked eyes, trying to touch you again.

“Goodbye, Min Yoongi.”

“Please don’t leave me.”

You close the door and run, finally letting the tears escape.

You love him.

You always have and perhaps always will.

You don’t want to leave, but know that staying will kill you.

One week passes. You spent it holed up in your small, shitty apartment, crying your heart out. Yoongi was the best and worst thing that ever happened to you and you miss him. You hate that you miss him. Because he was way worse than he was good.

He was never abusive. He was a violent man to anyone but you. You, he always touched with utmost care. At you, he never screamed. But he was still not good. He was cold and apathetic at times, then terribly affectionate at others, only to become cold again. And you couldn’t take it anymore.

You wouldn’t have left your apartment today if your fridge hadn’t been empty. It wasn’t always empty, but sadly enough, groceries don’t magically appear. Not even for an outlaw such as yourself.

The city is busy. The smell of street food, smog and body odor poisons the air. The weather is hot these days and people started sweating more. You can’t stand people. You pull the mask tighter around your nose, hoping to shield the stench this way.

You greet the clerk when you enter the shop, lowering your mask. It smells of grocery store in here. Fresh bread, produce and clean floors. It’s a welcome change to the rancid outside.

You spent fourty minutes in the shop and pay with cash. You never pay with card because it can be traced. Someone like you can’t risk being found.

“See you”, you say your goodbyes and leave the store. You plan on coming back in three weeks. You can’t stand being outside often.

The door just about closed behind you and then someone jumps you. Three people to be more exact. Two hold your arms while one rips the bags out of your hands.

“Let go! Hey, you fuckers!” you fight them off instantly, surprised at how easily it is to do. Way too easy. They let go of you as quickly as they grabbed you. At first you think that nothing happened, until you notice your grocery bags in one of the guys’ hands. They stole your stuff!

“You motherfuckers! Get back here! They’re mine!”

They run away, flipping you off over their shoulders.

You sprint after them, but before you reach them, they jump onto a tuk tuk and drive off, finally showing you their faces. Those were some of Yoongi’s underlings.

“What the fuck?” You stumble back in disbelief. “Did they fucking steal my food? What the fuck’s happening?”

It takes you a while before you finally come to the conclusion that you have to buy everything they stole a second time. And you do. And nobody jumps you. And you go home, make yourself shitty dinner and drink a bottle of soju all by yourself. It isn’t a good night. It’s a shit night. But then. All your nights have been shit for years.

You met Yoongi four years ago. It correlates with when your shit nights began. Okay, you are being unfair. The first two years with him were paradise and your nights were wonderful. You were an aspiring lawyer, while he was in the midst of getting a promotion to superintendent. You supported each other’s dreams, motivated each other and celebrated when your goals were achieved. Then the truth spilled out. The man you knew to love turned out to be a lie. Why you never left, you do not know. He gave you the chance to leave, but you didn’t. You made yourself low maintenance to him and your nights became shit. He pretended to be a proper policeman by day while you pretended to be a proper lawyer and at night he became what he hunted by day while you tried to hide whatever evidence about him flooded into the offices. You hated it at first, then loved it, then lost your job because of it and became dependent on him and started to hate it again. Well, at least working for him. You liked everything else. Having to work in the system and seeing how corrupt even the most eligible politicians or CEOs truly are, made you realise that perhaps stealing from them isn’t as bad as it first sounded. You liked being on the dark side of the law because the bright side was just as twisted. You just simply started to hate that it means being close to Yoongi.

It took Soojin’s death to finally make you realise that staying with him will end in your death as well. And so you finally left.

You will start a new life, make up a new identity, move to a different country and forget about him. Maybe. Who knows. You haven’t decided yet.

A letter comes five days after the grocery store incident. It is stuffed into an unsealed envelope and clearly delivered by the person who wrote it. You open it, feeling shit instantly. Whoever wrote this letter is calling you the most hurtful of names, telling you personal stuff which truly hurts. You throw it away and go back inside, opening a bottle of soju. It wasn’t Yoongi’s handwriting, but somehow you still think that it is connected to him. You try not to let it get to you, but you still end up rotting away in your bed for the rest of the week only leaving it to piss, shit and eat.

The next week your packages are missing. You never get them back. The culprit is never found. You curse the sky, knowing that it was fruitless. Yet again, you think that it was connected to him. To Yoongi, the man you wanted to forget, but who keeps haunting you day by day.

The city at night is a dangerous place. If you don’t know where to walk, you could find yourself in a rather messy situation. Especially as a woman. You are glad that most women are clever enough to stay at home once darkness greets the streets. Most women don’t know how to defend themselves though. Properly and without the law in mind. You killed before. Once. It was self defence. Yoongi took care of the body, you never found out what happened to it. He stayed with you the night it happened, even let you cry in his arms. He was gone the next day and never spoke of it again.

You clutch the big knife tightly in your bag, scanning the streets constantly. It isn’t far anymore until you are home. Hopefully the heavy rain clouds stay dry until you get there. You aren’t in the mood to get wet. Not tonight. You would have never left if you hadn’t ran out of fucking cigarettes. The kiosk was closed, so the journey was useless. Thunder announces that the clouds aren’t your friends. Mere seconds later, it starts pouring.

“Fucking shit, I hate this city.”

Rain in this city is always dirty and never really cold. You take it as a bad sign. Rain shouldn’t be warm. Not always, not constantly. Something’s wrong with this city. Something is rotting slowly until one day it will consume everything in its wake. You hope to have left before it can wake up.

The way home is too long for the amount of dirty rain it pours. You find refuge under a shop sign. There are no rooftops or canopies in sight and the only thing close to a safe place was the stupid restaurant sign. Authentic Asian Beef Noodles, it reads in bright red letters. The place is stuffed with people and the smell of beef broth mixes with the dirty scent of rain. You grind your teeth. What a shitty situation you find yourself in. You prefer being outside though. You know that once inside, the restaurant would be hot and stink of digested booze and body odor. You take getting wet over breathing in people’s air.

Except that you don’t really stay wet for long. The distinct sound of rain hitting an umbrella meets your ears. You look up. Black. You look to the side at the person holding it. Yoongi. Your stomach twists, your heart skips a beat. He is wearing a suit tonight. Black with a black tie. His hair is slicked back. He used makeup to conceal the scar running all the way from his forehead over his eye and down half his cheek. This is his work outfit. His police chief outfit. Yes. He is a chief these days.

Your instincts tell you to leave without saying anything, but it’s been six weeks since the breakup and you still love him. You hate that you do, but can’t stop staring at his face. He has his brows raised in a nonchalant way as he inspects the heavy rain. He doesn’t grant you eye contact, but holds the umbrella in a way which lets you know that he came out here after seeing you. His left shoulder is getting wet, while you stay dry completely.

“What are you doing here?” you hear yourself ask him.

“Work dinner. I have to pay ‘cause I’m the boss and all that shit. They’re eating like greedy pigs”, he scoffs, “fucking assholes.”

“I see.”

“You?”

“Buying smokes.”

He finally looks at you, studying from head to toe.

“The kiosk was closed”, you answer his question about your cigarettes’ whereabouts before he can ask it.

“I thought you quit.”

“Some things happened which made me start again.”

“Mhm”, he hums and takes out a packet of cigarettes from the inside of his suit jacket. He lights himself one and puts the packet away again, leaving you to stare at the smoke he blows out through his nose.

He isn’t actually serious, is he? It is like he is mocking you. It is already bad enough that he sends his stupid goons to terrorise you, now he is mocking you as well? You hate that you still love him.

You stay like this for a while. You staring at him while he holds the umbrella for you and smokes. You don’t know why you stay. You hate that you love him. You hate it so much.

Yoongi takes a long drag of the cigarette and exhales the smoke in an almost sigh-like breath. He lifts the cigarette, holding it closer to you.

“What?” you sound disbelieved, scandalised even.

He doesn’t say anything. He just shows you the cigarette as his eyes follow the endless rain. You hate that you love him. You hate it so much. But you still take the cigarette and put your lips right where he had his’ moments before. But you still smoke it as if it was the most normal thing to do. Because it once was. You and he shared many smokes in the past. It was once the most sensual, erotic thing to do between you and him. Barely clothed, intoxicated minds and high on the other, you often shared a joint as you got each other off. Fuck, it was always so fucking orgasmic to be with him that way.

“Wanna grab a bite?” he offers, pointing at the restaurant behind him, “one more mouth to feed isn’t gonna ruin me.”

You are hungry. You haven’t had a proper meal in weeks. Instant ramen, frozen food and snacks is all your body has to run on. You have no energy to cook and with how shitty you eat, it is a vicious cycle. Shitty food gives little energy, you already have low energy. The motivation to properly cook grows lower and lower each day. You dread the day you have only enough energy left to open a package of chips and eat it for breakfast, lunch and dinner.

“I’m not hungry.”

He glances at you. He knows that you are lying. Your eyes have greyed in starvation. He almost rips the cigarette out of your fingers and smokes it angrily, huffing out the smoke.

“I’m offering”, he hisses.

“And I’m declining. I can take care of myself”, you throw back and rip the cigarette from his grasp to smoke it angrily.

You may be starving, but you will be damned if you make yourself dependent on him again. You left him to finally prove to yourself that you can take care of yourself. You don’t need his help. Not anymore.

You take another deep drag, then hand the cigarette to him. He smokes it, glaring at you. You know that your stubbornness angers him.

“Tell your men to stop pestering me”, you say into the tense silence.

He looks over his shoulder at his police team. They are too drunk and caught in conversation to pay their boss any mind.

“They’re inside”, he says.

“You know I don’t mean them. Tell your other men to stop annoying me.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Yes. You do.” It is your turn to smoke. “It all started when they stole my groceries, but it’s been getting childish. My packages keep getting stolen, my internet cuts off, I find letters in my mail. Letters saying awful things about me. It’s getting ridiculous. Tell your men to stop terrorising me.”

“Stolen packages?” He takes the cigarette from you, brushing his fingers against yours as he does. The touch feels like the sweetest poison on your skin. “This doesn’t sound like my problem to solve. Go to the police.”

“Are you serious?”

He inhales, exhales the smoke into your face. You should be disgusted by it, but almost huff it in like an addict. Yoongi watches your lids lower and your chest raise in a greedy breath, finding it hard not to stare at your lips as he hands you the cigarette. You smoke it. His eyes are still on your lips, glued to the shape of them as his throat runs dry.

“Very serious”, he rasps.

“You are the police”, you throw back in disbelief, exhaling the smoke into his face that way.

“Mhm yeah, I guess I am.” He takes the cigarette, smoking it with half lidded eyes. He exhales, handing you the cigarette. “When are you going to come home again?” he asks, looking back at the rain.

You almost choke on the smoke, exhaling it in a cough. Yoongi glances at you from the corner of his eyes.

“Your farce is getting ridiculous”, he says coldly.

“My farce?”

This break up wasn’t the first break up you and he went through. You left many times before, always thinking that you were finally strong enough to forget him only to come crawling back again. You don’t blame him for doubting that this time will be different, but you still can’t stop yourself from getting angry.

“Did you even hear what I said?”

“I did. Go to the police. I have nothing to do with it.”

You drop the half-finished cigarette. It dies in the puddle on the ground.

“I was smoking this”, he says dryly, “besides, don’t litter.”

“Pick it up yourself if you care so much about these dirty ass streets”, you spit and turn to leave. You take getting wet over being with him any longer.

Yoongi watches you leave, shakes his head in disbelief and bends down to pick up the cigarette. He won’t run after you because you will come crawling back eventually. You always do.

“Sir?”

He turns his head. One of his officers. He is young and with sparkles of big dreams in his eyes. Yoongi pities him. This city is going to chew him up until there is nothing left of him. He had the same dreams once and knows what the viper nest, which is the justice system, is going to do to him.

“What do you want?” he asks him dryly, rolling the wet cigarette between his fingers.

“Who did you talk to right now?”

“Just someone important to me.”

“Shouldn’t we escort her home? It’s raining and there could be criminals on the streets. It’s too dangerous for a woman to be alone.”

“She’ll get home safely.”

“Are you sure, Sir? I stayed sober for cases like these. I could get the car right away.”

“You’re sober?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“But it’s a work dinner. You’ve been off work for hours.”

The young officer salutes, “I know, Sir but a policeman shouldn’t slack, Sir.”

Yoongi feels deep pity for the young man. He is so motivated, so proper and full of good spirit. Waking up is going to hurt like a bitch for him.

He pats him on the shoulder.

“You’re a good person, Jeon”, he says and swerves past him to get back inside.

The young officer follows him with pride glimmering in his innocent eyes. Yes, waking up is going to hurt like a bitch for him.

Yoongi wasn’t always living two lives. He was like his young officer once. Full of dreams and motivation. He dreamed of using his powers to do good, to help those who needed it most and then he woke up. He watched politicians and men in power ruin, rape and kill the powerless without ever getting punished for it. He felt helpless. If even someone in his position can’t change the world, then who will? His criminal work was honourable once. He slipped evidence money under the table to hand out to the powerless, he let proof disappear for people doing crimes out of desperation. One time he was supposed to put a starving mother behind bars because she stole diapers for her babies. Yoongi couldn’t do it and so he disobeyed the law for these kinds of people.

But then his criminal work became less about the powerless and more about him. Making money the illegal way was easy and it is fucking addicting. Especially when he could make sure that evidence about him never reached the higher ups. Yoongi fucking loved the sudden power he possessed and he was too blinded by it to see that he became exactly what drove him to criminality in the first place.

Yoongi tells his officer to check up on your place that night. The young officer rings the doorbell like he was told to do.

You open it, swaying from intoxication as you do. The stench of digested booze wafts off you. But you somehow seem to sober up when you see the police badges on his shirt.

“You’ve got the wrong person”, you tell him, trying to morph your face into an expression of sobriety.

“Don’t worry, Miss. I came here to check on you.”

“Check on me?”

“Yes, Miss.” He salutes you. “I have orders from my captain to make sure that you arrived home safely and that you received this”, he says with an innocent smile on his lips, presenting a plastic bag to you.

Authentic Asian Beef Noodles, it reads in red letters and inside, three big takeout containers of food are waiting to be eaten.

Everything clicks into place. This is one of Yoongi’s employees. Another young, hopeful spirit which will be crushed in the system. You pity the young officer. You had the same innocent sparkle in your eyes once.

Hesitantly, you accept the takeout food.

“Thanks”, you mumble.

“Any time, Miss.” He studies you for a moment. “Are you…are you okay, Miss?”

You bite back tears. His empathy is going to kill him one day. But it feels so good to receive. You haven’t been asked this question in so long.

You shake your head. He straightens up in worry.

“Should I call help for you, Miss?”

You know what he indicates.

“Thank you, no. I’m just going through some shit. Sorry, I’m being sappy tonight.”

“You don’t have to go through it alone, Miss.”

“I know. I’m just… I’m seriously alright, I won’t do anything stupid. You don’t have to worry, officer.”

“Yes, well I still see it as my duty to stay because you seem sad to me”, he says and tries to go inside your apartment. He still has a lot to learn. You know from his eyes that he has no bad intentions and that he truly wants to help, but you know how the city will treat such deeds. One day he will try to help the wrong person and end up with attempted sexual assault charges. And it will fucking destroy him because people like him only see the good in the world and can’t imagine that others would want to hurt people.

You stop him with a guiding hand on his chest.

“That isn’t necessary, really. My packages keep getting stolen and I guess it’s been annoying me.”

He pulls out a pen paper instantly, stepping closer to you without noticing, “your packages? Have you seen anyone suspicious? How many packages have gone missing? When did it start?”

“No, I… Thank you for your concern and the food, but I will get through the night safely.”

He steps back, cheeks reddened in embarrassment.

“Forgive me, I don’t know why I did that. My captain said that you were important to him and that I should make sure that you are well, so I wanted to do a good job at it.” He bows at you deeply. “Please forgive me, Miss.”

“He said that?” you whisper.

He nods his head, “yes, Miss.”

“Oh. Uhm. ” You clear your throat. “Thank you, I, uhm, tell him that I’m good.”

“I will, Miss. Here, my card. You can always call me when you need something” he hesitates, “or when you just need someone to talk to.”

“Thank you. This is so kind.”

“You are never alone, Miss.”

“Thank you”, you say, bowing at him. He is so kind. God, you want to grab him and tell him to run before it’s too late.

He bows as well, “good night, Miss.”

“Good night.”

You watch him leave. He gives you one last look out of the police car and a kind wave, then drives off.

You close the door with a curse. This just sobered you up. The young policeman’s kindness just sobered you up. You check his name on the card he handed you. Jeon Jungkook. Why someone like him? He never should have found his way into this field of work.

You look at the takeout food next, feeling your stomach twist. You are important to Yoongi. Holy fuck.

It’s been eight weeks since you left him. You don’t feel better. The cigarette you shared was two weeks ago and yet you still feel as if it was sticking to your lungs. Each time you breathe out, you swear you can taste him. It almost suffocates you and keeps you from relaxing. So you leave your depressing place for a walk to the kiosk. You read somewhere that walks are good for one’s mental health. You can’t agree. Walks force you to be outside where people are loud and fucking stink.

The vendor must be fucking with you. The day is bright, but the kiosk is closed again. You bang your fist against the closed door, cursing loudly. You want your fucking smokes is that too much to ask? This city is fucking shit.

You’ll just call someone who will always help. You saved him as Jay. His real name is Hoseok. You don’t say his real name in public. He doesn’t say yours. Yoongi sometimes called him his best friend, but what is such a title out of the mouth of the most apathetic man you know? You were his girlfriend too and look at where this has gotten you, living as an outlaw in the shit and dirt of this city.

Like always, Hoseok lets the phone ring four times then he picks up.

“Flames are hot”, he says.

“And the arsonist works hard”, you answer him.

“Hyacinth, it’s good to hear your voice”, there is finally a smile in his voice now that you answered the code correctly.

“The same goes for you, Jay.”

“What’s up? I haven’t heard from you in ages.”

“Nothing much. I’m out of smokes.”

“The corner in twenty?”

“Yeah.”

You and he end the call at the same time. Twenty minutes later you meet. He wears black overalls and smudged eyeliner. He says it keeps the char easier to hide. Like always, he greets you with a quick hug.

“What do you got?” you ask him.

“Whatever you want.” He opens his bag. “I’ve got cigarettes, but something stronger too”, he says, scurrying around the contents of the bag with his fingers. He always has burn marks on them, but somehow they are never dirty.

“What do fifty bucks buy?”

“For you? Two packs of cigarettes and two joints. That’s a steal.”

“Fuck dude, you’re getting expensive.”

“Yeah well, a man’s gotta eat.”

“Fine, I’ll take it.”

You and he exchange goods. He makes small talk.

“But why are you here with me? Did Suga run out of goods?”

Suga is Yoongi’s codename in public. The sound of it almost brings bile into your throat. You did such a good job in forgetting him and now the memory of him is as fresh as a new day. At least you like to pretend that you are doing a good job at forgetting him. Your heart knows better though.

“We, uhm…”

Hoseok exhales sharply, “again?”

You nod your head.

“When?”

“More than two months ago.”

“Damn, that’s long.”

“Yeah, I’m serious about it.”

He cocks his brow up.

“I am”, you insist just a little snappishly.

“Alright”, he closes his bag, “I gotta go now.”

“Already?”

He looks around nervously. Almost as if he didn’t want to be seen with you.

“Yup. Use the stuff wisely, I won’t have new stuff for a while.”

“Seriously?”

He nods his head and salutes you nonchalantly.

“See you around.”

“See…you?”

He turns his back to you and walks off quickly, soon disappearing into the busy crowd. Is this your fate? Even the people closest to you avoid you now that you aren’t Yoongi’s anymore? Were you truly only worth something as his little thing? You ball your hands into fists, bending the joints this way. You have to leave this fucking place. There is actually nothing holding you here anymore.

That night the phone terror starts. Numbers keep calling you over and over and over again. You pick up the first time, only to have to listen to the most hurtful things another human has ever said to you. The voice wasn’t Yoongi’s, but you still blame him. Now that you aren’t his thing anymore, you became free food to whoever had been waiting to make your life a living hell. You turn off your phone after an hour and go to sleep with the help of Hoseok’s joints.

The doorbell wakes you the next morning. You consider not answering because it’s probably just one of his goons wanting to terrorise you. But whoever is ringing the doorbell is stubborn, forcing you out of your bedroom. You look through the door cam first.

That young officer. He is in full uniform.

You open the door hesitantly.

“Good morning”, he greets you with a wave and a smile.

“Good morning”, you murmur. Your mouth is as dry as a fucking desert. You are also so hungry that you could throw up in his face right now.

“How are you feeling, Miss?”

“Good.”

“That’s good to hear.” He says and shows you a package which he kept hidden behind his back all this time. He smiles brightly and proudly. “Tada!”

“What’s that?”

“I caught the package thief, Miss.”

“Are you serious?” you gasp and your eyes instinctively drift to the car you have noticed parked outside your unit for days. The door is opened and someone is sitting in the backseat. He looked cuffed to the seat. You glance at the young officer and the shiteating, proud grin he is sporting. He has been watching you? Did Yoongi tell him to?

“Wait. You’re actually serious.”

“Very serious. For you, Miss”, he says and shoves the package into your face.

“Uhm, uh. Thanks”, you accept it, putting it under your arm. “Have you been watching me?”

“Did you notice the car? Sorry, I thought that I was better hidden. I’m still new to all of this. But I caught the thief, heh.” He points at himself with his thumbs. “That’s my first real arrest.”

He manages to drag an honest smile to your lips. He is kind of adorable in a way.

“That’s cool. Thank you for taking care of it. Now I’ve got nothing to worry about anymore.”

He grins and nods his head, studying your features afterwards. He opens his mouth.

“Jeon are you there? Over”, his walkie talkie interrupts whatever he wanted to ask you. He takes it off his chest harness.

“I’m here, Kim Sir. Over.”

“Come to the precinct. We need reinforcements. Over.”

“Coming right away, Sir. I caught a thief right now, Sir. Over.”

A pause where the higher officer is definitely baffled by his confession.

“Good job, Jeon. Over.”

The young officer giggles before he speaks again, doing so as seriously as possible.

“Thank you, Kim Sir. I am taking the criminal to the precinct. Over.”

“Understood. Over.”

He puts the walkie talkie back on its harness and gives you a sorry smile.

“That was my boss. My other boss, not your friend who is the boss of this boss. Anyways. I have to go now, duty calls. Are you going to be okay, Miss?”

“I am. Thank you for your kindness.”

“Anytime, Miss. Uhm, have a good day”, he says and leaves with a wave of his hand. He waves again as he drives off. You retort it, staring at his car until it disappears behind a corner. You sigh deeply. He is so nice. Why someone like him? Why does this life always find people like him?

It’s been ten weeks since you left him. You read somewhere that walks are good for your mental health. You still can’t agree. Walks force you to be outside where people are still loud and still fucking stink. But it’s better than staying in your apartment. You’ve got new neighbours since Monday. They keep fucking like actual animals. They fucked when you left your place tonight. You were this close to kicking their door in and slaughtering them like pigs. You opted for a walk in the end.

You walk for a while then sit down by an empty bench next to the river. It is quiet. Nobody is really here. At least nobody important. A couple, how disgusting. A late night jogger, clearly a man. A homeless person, who uses another bench as their bed. You hate looking at homeless people because you feel helpless seeing them. You stopped being on the bright side of the law because of people like them. You thought that maybe if you stole from the corrupt men in power often enough, you would be able to help the ones who truly needed it. But you never managed to actually achieve anything. The homelessness in the city grows, while the pockets of the politicians become fatter and fatter in wealth. You fucking hate this city. It is rotten to the core.

“Look who we have here. If that isn’t our pretty little Hyacinth.”

You aren’t quick enough to get up to leave and then you already have two men throwing their arms over your shoulders while a third is grabbing the back of your head from behind. You try to reach for your knife but can’t. Their grip on you is too good.

“What are you doing here all alone?”

Their voices are familiar and one look at them confirms your suspicions. It’s them. The same three underlings who stole your groceries months ago.

“Leave me alone”, you tell them.

“Why should we? You are all alone. If the boss knew we’re leaving you alone, he’d grow angry.”

“I can take care of myself.”

“Now, now don’t be like that. You’re just a girl and there are many dangerous men out there.”

You look to your side. One of them is licking their lips like a hungry animal.

“Yeah? And you’re being fucking inappropriate. Leave me alone”, you spit, shaking off their arms.

They let you. Just as they let you stand up and take your bag.

“Goodnight”, you tell them and leave. Quickly. You walk a good hundred feet until you finally dare to look over your shoulder only to realise in horror that they are following you. Quickly.

You can defend yourself. You know how to kill, but you also know when you are outnumbered. And three bigger men against a woman is sadly never going to end well for the woman. You hate this city and you hate this life. You know that their words were nothing but provocation. They know you aren’t with Yoongi anymore, that you aren’t under his protection anymore and that in some weird way, you sullied his honour. You also know how people who bring dishonour to the gangs of this city are punished. The men are murdered and the women, well, they are murdered too but not before being sullied themselves. You hate this city and you hate this life. This life which is going to fucking end for you soon.

You dare to look over your shoulder one more time. They are so close that you can see the hunger in their eyes. No. Nononononono. It can’t end like this. You were supposed to leave this city, start a new life, forget about Yoongi. You are not going to die here in this dirty, shitty park far away from your dream.

Thump.

You bounce back from the impact, letting out a blood curling scream. It was instinct. Just as it is instinct of the person you ran into to grasp you by your arms and pull you closer again.

“Let me go! Help! Help me!”

“Quiet”, the person hisses and shakes you. This voice sounded different. Familiar in an almost intimate way.

You dare to shift your eyes to them.

Yoongi.

“I, I, I”, you stutter, feeling delirious in both fear and shock. You grab his shirt, twisting it to get closer to him. The act is intimate and out-of-place but you are too frightened to think clearly.

Yoongi brushes over the state of your glassy eyes to look over your shoulder. There are three men suddenly scurrying away, using the darkness to hide. He managed to get their faces.

He looks back at you. Your eyes meet. A little bit of clarity returns to you. What are you doing? Your fingers soften around his shirt.

“I don’t…”

“Come on, we’re going home”, he say sternly and puts an arm around your waist, dragging you with him like this.

You follow him all the way to his car. You even let him sit you down on the passenger seat and you even stay seated when he rounds the car to get to the driver side. You think that you are in shock because you don’t protest when he starts the car, nor when he drives off. You simply stare outside with your knees turned to him because your body acts against your consciousness. The city passes you by in flashes of neon colours. His car smells like his cologne and leather. He has no music playing.

Yoongi glances at your face. You have your head against the window, squeezing your hands between your thighs. The neon lights illuminate your features each time he passes by another light source. He can see that you are trying not to shake.

He takes a deep breath, shifting his eyes to the road. He has to grip the steering wheel, otherwise his hands would shake in anger.

“Should we get dinner?”

His voice rips you from whatever trance you were in. You sit up straight, looking at him. He is gripping the steering wheel to the point his knuckles pale. His long hair is hanging into his face tonight. A turquoise varsity jacket adorns him. His scar wasn’t hidden behind concealer. He wasn’t working his day job today. What was he doing at the park? Why was he there?

“Take me home”, you order him.

“I am.”

“No. Home. Not your place.”

“My place is your home”, he gets out through gritted teeth.

“No, it isn’t. Not anymore.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

“Did you see what they were doing to me?”

“No.”

You are lost for words for a moment. The tears come afterwards.

“Stop the car.”

Yoongi looks at you because your voice was shaking. He holds his breath at the sight of your tears.

“What?” he makes sure.

“Stop. The. Car. Now.”

He laughs and shakes his head.

You pull the knife out on him. He swerves to the side on instinct, fixing the mistake so vigorously, you and he shake in the small space. You don’t let it affect you, holding the knife against his skin.

“What the fuck are you doing?” he hisses.

“Stop the fucking car or I’ll kill us both”, you spit, holding the knife against his throat.

“Fuck”, he growls and hits the steering wheel. The car rolls to a stop.

“Get out”, you threaten.

“I am. Fuck.”

He follows your orders because you have his life at blade’s end. He still slams the door closed. You leave the car instantly.

“What the fuck were you thinking? You could have killed us both” he tries to scold you, but you silence him.

“I’m talking now”, you roar.

Yoongi closes his mouth because he has never heard you like this before.

“You are such an asshole! Each day I regret the moment I met you! You are the worst thing that ever happened to me!”

Yoongi gulps.

“I had a life before you. I had dreams and ambitions and, and goals and…a chance. I could have had a good life. I was supposed to use my degree to help people but you ruined everything for me.”

He rounds the car in big steps, coming so close to you that you smell his breath. It smells like chewing gum.

“You could have achieved something? What exactly did you achieve as a lawyer? Mhm, what did you achieve? This city is fucked.”

“Yes, because you fucked it!” you hit his chest. He doesn’t budge, but also doesn’t stop you. “You fucked it and you fucked me and I hate you for it!”

“Don’t blame me for your decisions. I gave you a chance to leave me back then. You were the one who stayed.”

You inch closer until your lips are almost touching. Yoongi exhales shakily, placing his hand on your hip.

“And I will regret this decision till the day I die”, you whisper, breaking the closeness.

You slip out of his hold. He follows you in a small stumble and a trembling gasp.

“I never want to see you again. Are we clear?” you hiss at him.

“Don’t be fucking ridiculous, you don’t want this”, he hisses back at you.

“You’re wrong, I don’t want you. I thought I still did, but I don’t. You don’t care about me, it’s finally so fucking obvious to me. You don’t fucking care.”

“You don’t know what you’re saying.”

“They are terrorising me, Yoongi!” You finally scream. “I wake up to people ringing my doorbell in the middle of the night, I have to keep my phone turned off because the phone calls don’t stop. I keep getting my stuff stolen and, and I thought I was going to be raped tonight! They are terrorising me and you called it not your problem!”

“No, you-”

“I’ve been living in constant fear, our friends don’t even look at me anymore, I haven’t eaten in days and I can’t-”, you stop yourself. He doesn’t even deserve your anger anymore. “-you know what? Fuck this and fuck you. I’m leaving.”

You turn your back to him and leave.

He says your name and takes your hand. He pulls, tries to turn you to him. But you rip yourself free again.

“Don’t go”, he says.

You don’t listen.

“I’m ordering you to stay”, he sounds desperate, yelling your name, “I am ordering you!”

He can yell as much as he wants to. You don’t listen to him anymore. The subway station isn’t far. You will make an exception and take it tonight. Even if you hate it. It stinks. Just like the rest of this shitty city.

You are going to leave. Once you are home, you are going to start packing and then you are going to leave. You will call V. You don’t know his real name, but he can change your identity as quickly as others change their socks. You will call V and tell him to have your passport ready the day after tomorrow. You will pay him with the money you have under your pillow and then leave for somewhere clean. Maybe somewhere with lots of mountains. You always heard that the air at these places is breathable.

You call V the same night. He tells you that two days is too short and to wait another week. So you wait. Your bags have been packed. You live out of them in your own place. You don’t leave it. You are scared. With how little Yoongi cared about your situation, you doubt that he told his men to stop. You are scared that if you left again, they would finally go through with what they couldn’t finish back then.

The doorbell rings during a rainy, dark night. You flinch awake to the point where you feel sick to the stomach. The lights are turned on instantly eventhough you know not to do that in such a situation. You can’t think clearly. You just want this to be over. All of it.

You run to the front door because you suddenly feared that it was unlocked. It isn’t, but you can watch someone push an envelope under your door. The shadow blocking the light outside leaves the moment the letter is inside your apartment.

You don’t want to open it at first, staring at it as if someone had planted a bomb in your apartment. Fuck it, if that is how you die then so be it, you think in the end and bend down to pick it up. It feels different in your fingers. Sophisticated. Intimate. The envelope is glued closed as if someone licked the glue stripe and the faint smell of well-known cologne lingers on the paper. You open it with shaky fingers.

A letter. It is heavy and folded once. You open it, gasping when three photographs fall out of it and onto the ground. You don’t know what is on them because they landed on their face side. So you read the letter first.

“It has always been mine as well.”

Written in black ink and a familiar handwriting. This is Yoongi’s writing.

With even shakier hands, you pick up the pictures. You feel sick for a moment, gawking at the cruel pictures with your hand thrown over your mouth. The three men who terrorised you. Their mutilated corpses look back at you. He tortured them to death.

You rip the door open, stumbling onto the balcony. You look down at what tripped you. Two bags of your favourite takeout food and a six pack of water. Both clearly fresh. So it was him. Yoongi must be here somewhere. You look into the distance. The night is loud and blurry in a thunderstorm. The streets are empty. The ghost of your past is gone again. You squint your eyes. A person.

“Yoongi!” you call out, unable to realise that you are smiling and waving your hand.

The person moves. Oh. It was just the shadow of a tree. For just a moment you had hoped that the dark shape was him waiting for you. It was just a tree…and you were happy that if could have been Yoongi. The realisation hurts.

“Fuck”, you press out, going back inside. The lump in your throat makes it hard to breathe. You stumble back to bed, halting for a moment when you pass your suitcases.

It has always been mine as well. His words repeat themselves in your head. All this time, you thought that he didn’t care. All this time, you thought that your terror left him cold. Your eyes drift over the empty takeout boxes from the noodle place. You still haven’t cleaned them up. He made sure that you were properly fed for days back then. A glance at the new stuff he got tonight. He is still making sure that you are. Your eyes drift over the package next. He made sure that they stopped getting stolen. You look at the pictures in your hands. He made sure that they would never hurt you again. All this time, you were so blinded by your own anger that you missed how he had always looked out for you. You missed his way of showing you that you were important to him.

It has always been his problem as well.

Something inside you breaks and you scream. You don’t know what you scream for, but you scream. It hurts so much. It hurts so much because you will still leave. He will hurt you again if you stay. All his efforts healed your heart and it hurts so much because you will still leave. You were meant to stay broken hearted. Leaving would have been so easy this way. Now it hurts like a bitch. But you can’t sway. You have to leave this place. It will chew up what little is left of you until you truly cease to exist.

V comes to your place the next day. He rings your doorbell. It wakes you from the uncomfortable sofa you fell asleep on last night. You groan as you sit up and you barely want to open your eyes as you stumble to the door.

You open it without checking the camera first.

“Took you long en- you?”

Jungkook, the young officer, greets you with a smile.

“I swear I’m not stalking you.”

You have a headache today, so it is difficult not to snap at him. He is also not the person you wanted in front of your door today.

“I’m starting to doubt that.”

He laughs, “it’s not that. I talked to my boss. Your friend, the boss of the other boss. Sorry, anyways. I need you to come to the precinct with me.”

“What? Why?”

“Okay so, this is actually so cool and I shouldn’t even be telling you this, but you’re my boss’ friend so I guess it’s okay”, he begins with sparkling eyes, “turns out that the package thief is actually a serial thief and you aren’t the first one he stole from. Isn’t that cool? It’s like in those movies. Those cool cop movies.”

“Really? He stole from more people?” You highly doubt that.

“Yeah”, he laughs as he answers you, nodding his head excitedly, “now we’re calling in everyone who he stole from so we can take their statements. My boss says that we can’t keep the thief locked up for long otherwise.”

You know that this wasn’t really how the law works. After all, you were once a lawyer who was fucking good at her job. Is Yoongi trying to drag you back to him? First he tries to change your mind by killing your bullies and now he is trying to do the final blow by abusing his power as police chief? You check the time. Couldn’t the young officer have come later? You could have had your passport already and be far, far away from this place.

“Can I just give it to you here?” you ask him.

“Mhm”, he tilts his head to the side, “no, I don’t think that it works like this. I’m sorry, Miss. The captain said that it’s important that all the victims come into the precinct.”

You have to give Yoongi that. He is real clever about it. That means however that you can’t escape this situation. Any more resistance from you would make you suspicious.

You give up with a sigh. “Can I just change into something different?”

“Of course, Miss.”

The young officer lets you sit in the passenger seat. He is so new at all of this. With such naivety he tells you his entire life story. That he was from the countryside and that his dream has always been to be a policeman in the city. That he studied hard for years and that he completed his enlistment with honour just so he could be a proper officer. He sounds so proud of himself that each second with him makes you hate his presence more and more. He is so fucking stupid and it angers you. Why would he throw away his life like that? Why someone like him?

You are led to one of the precinct’s interrogation rooms and are told to wait there. The table is decked with different foods.

“What’s all that?” you ask Jungkook.

“Breakfast, Miss.”

“Did your captain tell you to do that?”

“He said that wanted to make sure you get your breakfast because we called you in so early. The captain really cares for the citizens.”

You stifle a scoff. Sure he does.

“Mhm, I see.”

“Either way, it won’t take long”, the young officer bids his goodbyes and leaves you in the interrogation room.

His words were a lie. You wait and wait and wait, but nothing happens. There are no clocks in this godforsaken room, but you still know that it has to be hours. You didn’t want to eat the breakfast at first, glaring at the two-way mirror because in your mind, Yoongi was behind it, watching you and making sure that you ate. You didn’t want to give him the satisfaction at first, but had to in the end. The body begins working against one’s will when it is starving and the breakfast looked way too good. You eat all of it, then glare at the mirror again. You are still left alone and more time passes. It is as if they are trying to wear you down, as if you were the criminal in this situation. Granted, you are a criminal, but only Yoongi knows that and right now you are a poor civilian having done nothing wrong. You know that it’s Yoongi’s doing. That he somehow wants to terrorise you.

So when the door finally opens and he walks into the room, you almost throw the empty bowl at his head.

“Forgive the wait, Miss but something came up”, he says nonchalantly, flicking through some papers.

His second in command Kim Namjoon and the young officer Jeon Jungkook are behind him, which is why he is putting up this act. You grind your teeth.

“I already started to wonder if I’m in danger here”, you say way too sweetly.

“That depends on how you are going to answer our questions”, he says and sits down on the chair in front of you.

Jungkook stays by the door while Kim Namjoon stands a little to your side.

You look around yourself. He is trying to intimidate you.

“What’s that supposed to mean? I thought that I’m here to give my statement because of my stolen packages.”

Yoongi glances up from the papers. This is the first time your eyes meet after your fight and he killed your bullies. If only the others in this room would know how much blood he has on his hands and to which length he is willing to go to protect you. There were times where you would have dragged him over the table and kissed him senseless, but not anymore. You are stronger than your urges, even if it hurts your heart. You can’t give in again. If you do, he will take you for granted again. You won’t be happy with him. You finally have to fucking understand that.

“You’re right. You are here because of that”, he says dryly.

“Good. It started on May sixteen. I came home at around seven ten and noticed that my packages were missing. Two were stolen back then, but in total he stole eight packages”, you say and proceed to tell him the exact dates with the time as well as what was stolen.

“You seem to know how such hearings work”, he says after he wrote down what you said.

“I had a few hours to practice what I was going to say”, you say with a poisonous smile.

One Yoongi retorts with just as much poison and a deep hum.

“Apologies again.”

“Don’t worry, I know how hard the police works at keeping this honourable city safe.”

He tongues his cheek. You give him a victorious smirk. This cut. Good. He takes a deep breath and releases it through his nose, reaching into his suit pocket to pull out a cigarette. He gets as far as to put it to his lips and then Kim Namjoon already speaks up.

“Captain. Smoking is prohibited in this building.”

“Fuck”, Yoongi presses out and takes the cigarette between two fingers to tap it against the table instead.

“Smoking is bad for you either way”, you say.

He tongues his cheek again. You know that he wants to curse at you right now, but can’t. He has to put up a friendly act.

“I know, can’t shake the habit”, he says and studies your face, “so what now?”

“Sir?” Kim Namjoon is rightfully confused. Yoongi slipped up.

“I don’t know, I was never in such a place before. Do you still need to take my information?” you act oblivious.

“We already have everything.”

“Great. Then I can go?” you ask, fluttering your lashes innocently.

“I don’t know yet.”

“Sir?” “What? Why?”

Yoongi shifts in his chair until he manspreads like an idiot. He crosses his arms in front of his chest.

“What are you going to do now?” he asks you.

“Uhm…is this still part of my hearing?” you ask, glancing at Kim Namjoon.

“No of course not, Miss. Please, follow me.”

“Sit. Down.”

The room is silent for a moment. You glare at Yoongi while Namjoon and Jungkook gawk in complete confusion. Their captain acts out of character. There is no reason to keep the innocent lady here any longer. This isn’t like him at all. He has been fidgeting all day, barely drank his coffee, went for far too many smoke breaks and now this. The officers have no explanation for their captain’s sudden behaviour.

“What is the reason for this?” you ask him.

“Just safety precautions. We wouldn’t want our honest citizen to get into danger”, he says coldly, “now answer my question. What are your plans now, Miss?”

“I will go home.”

“Where is that home?”

“Sir, I don’t know if that is necessary.”

“Shut up, Kim.”

Namjoon gulps, exchanging a confused look with Jeon Jungkook. This is really not like their captain.

Yoongi straightens up and leans forward so he is closer to you.

“Where is that home, Miss?”

You lower your eyes in anger.

“I don’t know yet, I’m planning to leave this city.”

“What?” his voice shook as he spoke. His fingers close and break the cigarette that way. His eyes almost bore holes into yours from how deeply he stares into them.

“This city’s become too depressing for me. I plan on leaving it for good.”

“You don’t mean that.”

“Yes, I do. There is nothing holding me here anymore.”

“Yes, there is.”

“No, there really isn’t. I will leave.”

Bang!

You flinched back. Namjoon and Jungkook tense up as well.

Yoongi slammed his hand on the table, jumping to his feet.

“No the fuck you won’t!” he yells.

“Sir? What are you doing?!”

“Excuse me? It’s my right as an honest citizen to move”, you act oblivious as well.

“Keep her here”, he talks to Jungkook, pointing at him, “lock her up and keep her here.”

“Under what pretence, Sir?” the young officer asks with widened eyes.

“I, I, I don’t know. Refusal to, to, to cooperate or some shit like that”, Yoongi never stutters and he never paces, but he is currently doing both of those things.

“Sir…is…this legal?” Jungkook asks shyly.

Yoongi is by Jungkook’s side within a few steps, grabbing him by the collar.

“Do as you are told, Jeon! Unless you want to lose this job!” Yoongi growls, making Jungkook whimper with fear.

“Captain Min, you are stepping out of place”, Kim Namjoon speaks up, dragging him away from Jungkook, “and get off this poor officer’s neck. He is just doing his job.”

Yoongi whips around, now targeting his anger at Namjoon.

“If he was doing his fucking job, he would lock her up”, he hisses, pointing at you.

“I need you to step out for a moment, Captain”, Namjoon says and gestures Jungkook to open the door. The young officer obeys, holding it open as Namjoon shoves a protesting Yoongi out of the room. He closes the door again, muting the vivid fighting Yoongi was doing with Namjoon outside.

He meets your eyes, smiling awkwardly.

“Please forgive the Captain, Miss. He is very concerned about his citizens’ safety.” He is a terrible liar, but you don’t blame him. If you were in his situation, you would have no idea how to explain such a situation to a supposed innocent citizen either.

“Don’t worry. I, I’m just wondering if maybe I can finally leave? I’m sorry, this just really scared me and I just want to lie down at home now”, you act shaken up, looking at the young officer with pleading eyes.

“Of course, Miss. Our honest apologies again, Miss. Please follow me”, he says and leads you out of the room.

Yoongi and Namjoon are still arguing, but stop when they see you come out. You lock eyes with Yoongi for the briefest of moments.

He closes the distance and grabs your wrist, dragging you with him with such vigour that nobody truly gets time to act. Not even you know what was happening to you until you find yourself in his office with the door slammed shut.

“What are you doing?” you gasp.

“Shut the fuck up, you’re not the one asking this question right now!”

“Yoongi, lower your voice. This isn’t the place for screams.”

He steps closer to you, pointing at your face in warning.

“I have every fucking right to scream right now and you know that”, he presses out through gritted teeth.

“Why? Because I finally don’t need you anymore?”

“You can’t move. What the fuck are you thinking?”

“I’m-”

‘I'm not done”, he interrupts you, “I killed them for you. I did it. Just for you. Because your safety matters to me. I care.” He hits his own chest. “I showed you that I care and you’re gonna leave?”

You hate that you love him, but not for the usual reasons. You hate it because it hurts. You are going to leave despite not wanting to. You love him, perhaps you always will but you are also going to leave.

You nod your head.

Yoongi exhales shakily, taking a stumbling step back. He stares at you as if you were the ghost whose haunting hurts him the most. He huffs out air, rubs his hand over his mouth, then runs it through his hair and down the side of his neck.

“I’ll kill the thief”, he says in the end.

“What?”

“I'll make it seem like suicide. He’ll look like a pisser who couldn’t take prison and killed himself.”

“Are you out of your mind? He’s just a thief.”

“Well, what more do you need?!” he screams

“Nothing! I don’t need anything from you!”

“Why not? I can give you whatever you want!”

“Look at you. Now that you finally realised, I’m actually serious about the breakup, you wanna act like you care.”

“I care”, his voice broke, but you are both too angry to acknowledge it, “i-i-if I knew that you- I just-” He breathes in, breathes out, rubs his mouth, then his neck. “It can’t end like this. It can’t.”

“It can. I’m done begging you for everything.”

Yoongi steps closer.

“I can-”

“Sir? What is the meaning of this?”

Kim Namjoon and Jeon Jungkook are in the office. The rest of the precinct gawks at you and Yoongi through the doorway. The latter lifts his hands and steps back. His fingers are shaking.

“The captain just voiced his worries for my move. Don’t worry about it, Kim Sir”, you lie and turn to leave, “may I finally leave?”

Namjoon tells Jungkook to handle it with a nod of his head. The young officer points at the open door.

“Please after you, Miss.”

Yoongi says your name.

You look at him over your shoulder, despite knowing you shouldn’t. He takes a step closer, lifting his brows in pleading. Don’t give in. Don’t give in. Don’t give in. You ball your hands to fists and turn your back to him.

Yoongi tries your name again, hoping for another look. One which doesn’t come.

“Come back”, he tries, but gets stopped by Namjoon.

You can hear them talk as you leave.

“What the fuck’s your issue, man? You’ve been weird all day and now you’re screaming at citizens?”

“Watch your tone.”

“Hyung, I’m not here as your colleague right now. I’m here as your friend.”

“She’s gonna leave, she can’t…”

Jungkook leads you away from the office before you can hear Yoongi’s full answer.

“Are you crying, Miss??”

“Hm? Oh that, don’t mind them. It’s just…” Your heart is broken and you want to run back to Yoongi. “...forgive me, I’m just a little shaken from everything.”

“I’m sorry, Miss. The captain isn’t normally like this.”

“It’s alright. I know how Yoongi can be sometimes.”

“Yoongi?” Jungkook asks, glancing at the captain’s office. He wonders what kind of friends you and he are. Maybe Those kind of friends? Is that why you are important to the captain?

“I mean…sorry, I don’t know why I said that. I just wish to go home now.”

“Of course, Miss.”

“Oh god, I don’t even have money for a bus ticket with me”, you murmur to yourself, looking for your wallet. This is all a scheme to get Jungkook to drive you home again. You are worried that if he didn’t, Yoongi would somehow get to you before you could reach the station.

“Don’t worry about it, Miss. As a policeman, it is my duty to make sure that you get home safely.”

“Really? I wouldn’t want to waste your time.”

“Of course, Miss.”

And so he takes you home and you hate yourself because of it. So it began. You were the first person who used his kindness to her advantage. You were the drop beginning the inevitable filling of the tank until one day it will swap over. And once that happens, it is almost impossible to stop the leak. Fuck, you are just as terrible as everyone else in this city.

But the young officer is oblivious to what you just did, driving you home with a kind smile on his face. He even walks you to your door and stays as you unlock it. Your neighbours are fucking again. He glances at their door, then awkwardly at you.

“Yeah, I’ve got new neighbours. You can’t go over there and flash your badge and tell them to shut up, can you?”

“Of course I can, Miss. Just one mom-”

“No stop, I was joking”, you stop him, studying him with exhausted eyes. You are so sorry. You are so fucking sorry.

“Ah, okay. Please forgive me, I always take everything way too seriously”, he says, scratching his own neck shyly. He furrows his brows. “What’s the matter, Miss?”

“Can I tell you something?”

“Of course, Miss.”

“Run.”

“What?”

“Run back to your hometown. Run and never look back.”

“Excuse me?” he laughs in confusion, furrowing his brows harder.

“You’re a good person, Jeon Jungkook. This city will fucking ruin you.”

“I…uh…” He laughs nervously. “I don’t seem to follow, Miss. Sorry.”

“You don’t need to get it, just listen to me. Please.”

“O…kay? I uhm…”

“Thank you for driving me home. I’ll think of you sometimes in my new home.”

“Miss, are you okay?”

“I am. You don’t need to worry about me anymore. Just promise me to run.”

“I promise?”

“Good. Be happy, Jeon Jungkook.”

“Miss, I-”

You close the door on him and lock it. You don’t expect him to knock or ring the bell. He is too proper to annoy you this way. You check the camera. He stares at the closed door for a few moments longer, looking confused. He lifts his hand to knock, hesitates and turns his back to the door instead, leaving down the steps to drive off. You know that you confused him, but you had to. Please let it be enough to save him.

V arrives later that day. He is stressed and clearly in a hurry.

“What’s wrong? You look like you need to be somewhere or like you need to shit. Do you need to shit?”

“What? No”, he sounds out of breath as well as annoyed, “I’m risking my ass being here. I’ve got your stuff. It’s the only thing except mine that I managed to save. Give me the money, quick.”

“Save?” you probe, giving him the money.

He stuffs it into his boxers hastily, looking over his shoulder again.

“My place got raided by cops. I was at the market getting food, then came back to five cop cars in front of my place. I barely escaped. If I didn’t always carry my stuff with me, I’d have been fucked.”

“What?!”

“Sorry, Hyacinth. Gotta leave the city for a while. I wish you all the best.”

“V, what the fuck?”

“Here’s to never seeing each other again, aye?” he jokes, laughing nervously. It’s a good thing he said. Never seeing each other again meant that you and he managed to escape safely.

“Wait. Where will you go?”

“I can’t tell you. You know I can’t.”

“Yeah, just…be careful.”

“You too.”

He leaves and you know that he will be successful. If there is one person who won’t ever be found it is V.

You are in a trance for the rest of the day. Yoongi raided V’s place. He went as far as to betray his own people just to make sure that you wouldn’t leave. Carrying your new passport feels like a trophy, as much as it feels like a curse. Leaving this city won’t be as easy anymore now that he knows. You are so fucking stupid for telling him, but you didn’t want to miss out on his reaction when he found out. The small moment of satisfaction seems skippable now that you know how far he is willing to go to keep you close. And because V came as late as he did, your means of escape don’t drive anymore either. You have to wait for the earliest bus if you wanted to or not. Fuck, you did this to yourself. You stupid fucking woman. Look at you. You have this big, honourable degree and still manage to get yourself into shitty situations over and over again.

You go to sleep with a gun under your pillow. You won’t risk anything.

You don’t get a lot of sleep and then a noise wakes you. You heard it as clear as day. Someone unlocked your front door. He sent men to get you. Now he’s gone too far. You jump out of bed and grab your loaded gun, tiptoeing to a spot from where you could observe the apartment. You have to be strategic about it. First count the men, then calculate the fastest way to shoot them, then act. The door closes and locks again. Clever bastards, they want to make sure that you don’t flee. Oh, you are going to have a blast killing them. One last little thing to leave Yoongi before you abandon him.

The automatic lights turn on. Got you, assholes.

The first enters your vision.

“Hm?”

Yoongi. Clearly drunk, he is dragging his feet over the floor, using the wall as support. No one else follows him. So he came here alone.

Overtaken by anger, you jump out of hiding and at him.

Yoongi collides with the wall, feeling the cold nuzzle of the gun press against his chin. He drops the keys and flowers he was carrying, lifting his hands in defeat.

“Careful, it’s just me”, he lulls.

“Get the fuck out of my house”, you spit, carrying murder in your eyes.

“I can’t believe you’re still hiding your keys under the flower pot. Don’t make me so worried, anyone could enter.”

“I’m gonna count to three and if you haven’t disappeared by then, I’ll shoot.”

“Can we talk?”

“One.”

“I know I fucked up. I can’t stop thinking about you. Please, can we try again?”

“Two.”

“I promise I changed. You were right, I was a joke. But I wanna do better now.”

“Three.” “I’m sorry!”

Yoongi squeezes his eyes shut. His death never comes. He peels his eyes open again.

You are staring, panting heavily. Tears are in your eyes.

“I’m sorry”, he whispers.

This is the first time he is the one to say these words first. It feels so good, but you can’t give in again. You made up your mind to leave…didn’t you? You study the state of him. He is heavily intoxicated. He looks the way and reeks of it.

“You’re drunk.”

He nods his head, furrowing his brows. He touches your elbows, caressing them softly. Such touch you only get when he is drunk.

“I drank because of you. What you said today. I just…don’t move away, please”, he begs, eyes filling with tears.

“So now you care? I wasn’t important to you when I was with you and now that I’m leaving, I’m suddenly important?”

“You’ve always been important.”

“No, I haven’t. You took me for granted.”

“I did and I’m sorry. I never should have taken you for granted. I’ll do better now, please just give me a chance to prove it to you.”

“If I give you a chance again, you’ll just abuse it and hurt me.”

“No, I won’t. Please, I just.” He cups your face, running his thumbs under your eyes as gently as possible. “We were right once. We were so good together. We were a team and, and we had dreams and we made each other happy. I want this back, I wanna try to get this back again please.”

“I just want to be happy, Yoongi”, you press out.

“I’ll make you happy, baby. Please, I-I’ll make you happy again.”

“No, you’re drunk and talking fucking shit.”

“I’ll leave this city if you want me to.”

You falter. He would give up what he built just for you?

“You wouldn’t do that.”

“I would. For you I would. I’d set this whole city on fire and leave with you as it burns to fucking ashes behind us, please.”

“You don’t mean that.”

“Please”, he whispers and drops his forehead against yours, “please, I want to make you happy again.”

You hate that you love him. You hate that he made you addicted to him. This is so awfully him. He gives you enough affection that you get addicted to it then takes it away again. And once he feeds it to you again, you drink it up like an alcoholic. It is always the same.

“No, you won’t. You’re drunk.”

“Please.”

“Leave my place.”

He presses himself off the wall and grabs the nuzzle of the gun, guiding it right between his brows.

“You have to kill me if you want me gone.”

You gulp. He forces your finger to the trigger. Your airways close up.

“Kill me. Fucking kill me. I can’t live without you anyways.”

You could end it. You’ve got everything. Your suitcases, your papers, the keys of his car he drunkenly drove like an asshole. You’ve got everything you need to escape this place. You could end it, finally make sure that you have no temptation to return. You could end him and your addiction with it. He’s got your finger on the trigger, it needs just one flex and it would be over. But you never wanted him dead. No matter how much you wished for him to be gone, you never wanted him dead. Because in some fucked up way, all you really wanted was for him to put more effort into you.

“No”, you whimper, shaking your head.

He rips the gun from your fingers and drops it on your dresser.

“I don’t want to kill you”, you press out, sobbing softly.

He cradles your face, wiping your tears.

“I know”, he gets out, nodding his head, “I know you don’t, princess. I know.”

“Yoongi”, you squeak out, twisting his shirt.

“I’m here, princess. I’m here.”

He pulls you closer until his kiss is just one breath away, feeding on the shaky breath you let ghost against his lips. His drunken eyes gaze at your mouth, his heart is racing in his chest.

“Push me away”, he tells you.

“I hate you.”

“And I love you.”

“Yoongi”, you whimper, finally touching his chest instead of his shirt.

He moans and pulls you into a kiss. A deep, hungry kiss.

You pull at his hair to get him off of you as much as you pull him closer, fighting for air. You hate that you love…do you really? Do you really fucking hate it? Do you really hate it when his kiss makes you feel alive again? You spent months feeling out of breath and now it’s gone. You can breathe again. At least metaphorically, physically he’s got you very close to passing out. You push at him to get distance. Air. He lets you breathe, but not escape. He pushes you to your sofa until your legs collide with the back of it. Your shaky breaths intermingle, your shared moans follow. His right hand slides to your ass, his knee lifts to your middle.

You gasp, grinding down on him. You can’t protest because he kisses you so deeply it feels as if he wanted to consume your soul. He kisses and gropes, kisses and gropes until air is sparse. He gasps.

“Fuck. Fuck, I’m fucked”, he gets out and pulls your head back so he could drag his tongue up your throat.

It should disgust you, but it doesn’t. You moan, running your nails down his chest and arching your back. He lifts his head, looking at you with drunken, crazed obsession. His fingers just can’t stay still on your body. It is as if he wanted to touch everywhere at all times. The attention makes you short of breath.

“You’re so fucking beautiful.”

You touch his cheek. He leans into your palm, closing his eyes when you trace his scar. You were with him when he got it. It was during a fight. He fought with his fists, his opponent chose the cowardly way and pulled a knife on him. He was lucky that he didn’t lose his eyesight. He hated it at first, but you made him feel handsome. You always looked out for him that way.

“Do you…do you think I’m handsome?” he asks. Such questions you only get when he’s drunk.

“I do.”

His breath trembles as it leaves him. He drops his hand from your hips to take out his cock. He touches himself, gazing at you as if he needed the view of you to stay hard. And he does. He needs you. You are the only person who can turn him on.

You look at what his hand is doing, gulping heavily. He sighs, gazing at your face. You are as mesmerised by him as you were when everything was still good between you and him. His cock still has the same effect on you.

“Princess?” he tilts your head back up to meet your eyes, using only two fingers under your chin for it.

You meet his eyes, heart racing unbearably.

“Yes?” One little lift of his brows and you give him the answer he craved.

You part your legs, tilting your hips closer to him. You nod your head vigorously, gazing at his cock again.

He doesn’t bother to pull his pants down all the way, neither does he care about taking off your panties. He pushes them to the side and stuffs you full of him, gripping the edge of the couch and your right thigh as deep moans leave him. Your right leg is lifted like this, supported by him.

You gasp, tensing up. Your toes curl instantly, your fingers clutch his lower arms. His cock stretches you out and stuffs your walls. It’s not uncomfortable, but it is definitely intense. You gasp again, looking at him with widened eyes.

“I know baby, I know”, he breathes and bottoms out. “It’s been too long. Fuck.”

He moves, chasing your warmth in drunk, sloppy thrusts. You writhe and gasp repeatedly, scratching the back of his neck. You want to hate that you love him. He should feel like an intruder. You should want to kick and scream for help. But you don’t want to. You feel whole again. No preparation, but he doesn’t hurt. His kiss and touch was enough. Your addiction to him runs so deep that his cock is pure heroin to you.

“Yoongi”, you get out, grabbing his throat. Your thumbs are on his Adam’s apple, threatening to press down.

He smiles, “I love you”, he gasps out and drops his head against yours. His long hair tickles your face, his drunken breath swirls over your skin. He gulps and moans under your fingers, pumping into you with no signs of slowing down. You start losing strength in your calf, standing like this is exhausting, but if you were being honest, you don’t want it to stop.

“I hate you.”

“Fucking kill me then”, he rasps.

You close your fingers slightly.

“Harder. This isn’t gonna do it.”

“You first.”

“Fuck, baby”, he gets out and lifts you so he could round the sofa with you. He pins you down into the pillows, ripping the panties off of you and kicking his pants off. He pushes into you before you can truly realise what was happening, feeding you all of him until he can’t give any more. He twists the pillow next to your head as he takes on a punishing rhythm. His dark hair hangs into his face, his teeth are bared as he huffs like an angry animal.

“Yoon-”

“I know, baby I know. You already told me, baby. I know”, he whispers, wiping your cheek, “take me, I know you can. You’re my baby, you’re made for me.”

His praise is like medicine to you. This is all you needed. To know that he is still obsessed with you and that you still affect him.

You close your legs around his hips, keeping him with you this way. You need him to always stay like this. He moans your name, slipping his fingers from your cheek to hold the pillow instead. You told him that you hated him, but your body betrays you. Your eyes betray you. You keep him close, gaze at him as if he was your everything. Yoongi’s head is turning. Not only from the alcohol, but also from being with you again. And from knowing that you still loved him.

Because he loves you so much. He hates himself for taking you for granted. He never should have. You are his everything. The fucking reason why he does all of this. The last three months were torture for him. He started smoking again, drank too much, slept too little, worked too many hours. And if he didn't distract himself with work, he tried thinking up ways of showing you that he was still there for you. He ordered his officers to look out for you, sent food deliveries to your place, parked in front of your place somewhere hidden to watch you smoke on the staircase. He also followed you sometimes after you confessed to him that some of his goons were terrorising you. And each time he followed you, he wished for you to notice him just so he could get a chance at talking to you again. But you never did and Yoongi thought that you will come back again soon. Then you told him that you would move and Yoongi finally broke. He was truly losing you. Three months of hell, of lonely nights and heartbreak and he was truly losing you.

“I missed you”, he gets out, painting his name against your favourite spots. The eagerness with which you clasp him results in your hips to lift off the pillow, allowing your clit to grind against him each time he bottoms out. The necklaces he is wearing are tangling over your face. They were too long once, but Yoongi cut them to the perfect length so they wouldn't hit your face when you are underneath him. That was six months ago. During a time you thought he didn’t care anymore. You feel so stupid now. His way of showing you that he cared was always there. He was always looking out for you. You were just too blind to see.

You gasp and whimper, mewl and keen, looking up at him with teary eyes and your fingers closing around nothing. You can’t tell him that you missed him too because you are too overwhelmed.

“Did you miss me too?” but Yoongi is drunk tonight and when he is drunk he is needy for your affection.

You nod your head.

“Say it.”

“I missed you”, you get out, following it up with a sob.

“Baby, I love you”, he croaks, wiping your tears before dropping his forehead against yours, “I love you, baby, I love you. Don’t leave me again, please.”

“You’re so drunk.”

“Yeah, drunk ‘cause of you. Thought I’ll lose you. Baby, I can’t lose you”, he croaks and shows you his honesty with passionate rolls of his hips. Somehow he goes even deeper than before, he hits your favourite spots even better.

You arch your back and scream his name, throwing your head back as best as possible. This is electric. Holy shit, he makes you feel good. Your face scrunches up against your will, your feet shake on his back.

Yoongi admires you with a pounding head and racing heart, repeating what he did before over and over and over again. You react in mewls and moans and screams and he can’t get enough of it. He wants for you to lose your fucking voice because you couldn’t stop screaming for him. Because if you sound like this for him, he makes you happy. It has been too long since you actually screamed this way, so Yoongi is especially affected by tonight.

He laces his fingers with yours – again, he is drunk – and squeezes them needily. He thinks that he is crying too. He watches pearls of something drip onto your face sometimes. His eyes also burn. He doesn’t want it to stop. He is willing to carry his emotions on his sleeve if it meant you were happy again.

“Is this what you needed? Does this finally make you fucking happy?” he gets out, chasing the ecstasy as much as he helps you with your own pleasure trip.

You squeeze his hands back, making him moan your name.

“Ye-yes.”

“Argh”, he growls, trying so much harder to fuck you right. It feels so good. He has to tell you. He stayed silent way too often in the past. You want his efforts and he wants to give them to you. “You feel so good.”

The first confession was hard because he isn’t used to sharing his feelings. It was hard, but it was also ecstatic because your sounds of pleasure became louder and you tightened around him, squeezing his hands happily.

“You feel so good. You feel so fucking good. You feel so good, princess. You feel…so good”, he can’t stop now that he started, telling you over and over and over again how you make him feel. Good. So good. He feels so good when he is with you. “You are so good. Princess, fuck. I have to..I, I have to- ah!”

You open your eyes in time with Yoongi collapsing on top of you. He whimpers into the crook of your neck, shaking almost pathetically.

There are two things you always believed to be true about Yoongi. First: When he fucks, his moans are always deep, raspy and growly. Second: He has perfect control over his orgasms.

Both of these things are getting proven wrong to you right here and now as he whimpers and shakes and paints your walls with his unexpected orgasm. You want to blame the alcohol on it and maybe the months of abstinence, perhaps even the fear of losing you paired with the relief of having you again. Holy fuck, he actually loves you doesn’t he?

“I love you”, he sobs, hugging you close.

“Yoongi ah”, he breaks you with his confession and the tenderness with which he holds you. You swear that you can taste colours for a moment. You haven’t felt honestly good in your own skin in months. This right here is what feeling good is. This is it.

You don’t know who comes down first. You think it is Yoongi, but even if he does, he doesn’t pull out. He lets you shake and throb and clench around him until your moment of peak pleasure is over as well. He holds you silently afterwards, catching his breath in the crook of your neck. He missed your scent like nothing else. Truly, it leaves him so drugged out that he actually finds himself drooling as he smiles like a giddy boy.

You calm down with his weight atop your chest, his length still inside you and his hair between your fingers. It is still a little stiff and crusty from the variety of hair products he keeps in it during his day job. To think that mere hours ago, you were screaming at each other in his office. It feels so far away to you now. Like a memory of an unbelievable life.

You don’t hate that you love him. You really don’t.

“How.” He clears his throat. “How are you feeling?”

“Good.”

“Are you sore? Does anything hurt?”

“No, but I’m leaking.”

“Fuck”, he laughs into your shoulder, nibbling on it gently, “sorry, I just…am drunk and missed you.”

“You were pathetic doing that.”

He laughs harder. You and he have a peculiar sense of humour. He knows that you meant it fondly. You laugh as well. He lifts his head at the sound of it, cupping your cheek.

“If it means you’re laughing, I can live with being pathetic.”

Your heart flutters.

“What’s gotten into you?”

“Booze. Way too much booze.”

You laugh again. His eyes soften, he caresses your face.

“Definitely too much booze, yeah”, you agree.

“Mhm, fuck.” He cuddles into your shoulder again. “I’m sleeping here.”

“And you think I’d let you?”

He nods his head.

“Fuck, you’re the worst.”

“Am I wrong?”

“No, you’re not.”

You wake up alone the next morning. It hurts. So nothing changed. He got what he wanted, made you addicted again only to leave. Like he always did. And you are left feeling dirty and used and fucking awful.

You probably would have stayed in bed to cry the entire day if a very worrying noise hadn’t come from outside your door. Someone’s in your kitchen. You roll out of bed and leave the room. You don’t need weapons today. You are angry enough that you will probably be able to beat whoever is dumb enough to break in.

You cross the corner and stop, lowering your fists.

Yoongi.

He took a shower and tied all of his wet hair into a messy bun. He is shirtless, wearing a towel around his hips. Music is playing from his phone while on the stove, breakfast is sizzling.

“You?”

He turns at the sound of your voice, face lighting up instantly.

“Good morning, beautiful”, he says, closing the distance to take you into a hug. “Did you sleep well?”

You don’t answer him, you push at his chest so you could look at him. You can’t believe that he is still here and that he is making you breakfast.

“What’s the matter?” he asks.

“Why the fuck are you still here?”

He furrows his brows, “why not?”

“I, I don’t know. I just, just. I thought that…huh? You didn’t leave?”

He frowns in regret for a moment, before leaning in to kiss your cheek. He gives your left buttock an almost playful squeeze afterwards, stepping back to return to the cooking.

“I’m making your favourite. I also cleaned. Your place was a shithole, honestly.”

Still flabbergasted beyond relief, you look around your small apartment. He didn’t just clean up the garbage and tidy, he fully wiped the place down. You check the clock next. It’s way past one at noon. You slept for more than twelve hours. Damn. You never even realised how much sleep these last three months took from you until you finally fell asleep in his arms again and actually stayed asleep. You feel refreshed and not uncomfortable in your own skin.

Last, you look at Yoongi. He is humming to the music, switching between stirring the eggs in the pan and chopping up some pork belly.

At first you don’t want to accept that this is actually happening to you, but then the desire to be close to him gets too grande to bear. You almost run to him, colliding with his back in a passionate hug.

He stumbles and grunts, following it up with a fond chuckle and his big hands rubbing your lower arms.

“Please don’t make me regret this again. Please.”

He turns in your arms, caressing your waist. He shakes his head, looking at you in ways he hasn’t looked at you in ages. As if he honestly loved you.

“Can you promise me?”

“I promise you, baby”, he says in a soft voice and locks pinkies with you.

The gesture is so cute and honest, that you have to stifle a giggle. Your heart hasn’t fluttered like this in ages.

“I have an idea. How about I’ll take next week off and we’re leaving this city for a while? Maybe the mountains? You’d like the air there”, he suggests.

“Are you serious? Do you actually mean that?”

He nods his head. You and he began swaying to the music, looking at nothing else but the other.

“But first I gotta sort out the mess I made when I busted V’s place”, he says.

“Yeah true.” You slap his chest. “Fuck you for that. He didn’t do anything wrong.”

“I know, I know. I acted irrationally, I admit. But I’m gonna fix this. You know how easily I can make stuff disappear. He’ll be able to return again in a week or so.”

“I hope you’ll fix this, you idiot you.”

“Mhm, I will and then I’m taking you on a long vacation”, he says, kissing your forehead before hugging you against his chest.

You close your eyes, melting into his chest.

“And when we’re there, I’m gonna make you breakfast and make you cum and make you smile. Yeah?” he whispers.

“Yeah”, you snicker.

He smells like your shower gel today, but you don’t mind. He hasn’t shown such an actual desire to change in months and it feels so good to receive. You love that you love him. You really do.

“I love you, Yoongi”, you whisper, feeling him squeeze you for just a moment as your confession overwhelms him.

“I love you too, princess”, he tells you and he is sober for it because he swore to himself that he won’t need alcohol anymore to be able to show you his affection.

He is willing to better himself, he truly is and a week later, you and he are in his car on your way to a long vacation in the mountains.

2K notes · View notes

moonchild1 · 1 year ago

Text

min yoongi fic rec list (Ⅵ)

she's back bet you didn't think i'd post another list this quick but since they've been building so much i figured why not soooo this week is yoongs and next week with be taehyung i've been reading alot lately so i wanted to share them asap so before my week gets hectic again i thought i'd post it, i honestly loved these ones i am exploring a little bit for with certain genres and i must say it like a whole new world i'm enjoying it and i hope you like them too. remember too always show lots of love and support to these amazing writers they dedicated so much time to writing these fics and they are absolute geniuses and deserve the world for sharing them with us so please follow them and take a look at their masterlists cause i will 100% guarantee that you will find your very own favourites there as well, leave the a little comment i know they will appreciate it so much and send them all the love in the world... i will reblog these through out the week and as usual minors do not interact i will block those who do.... happy reading everyone see you next week with taehyung's list and if you have anything you would like to share with me or you just wanna ramble about a fic you loved my asks are always open i love hearing from you🖤✨

a- angst s- smut f- fluff

series

stalemate by @shina913 f s a

↬"The truth is, I'm not afraid to take that gamble anymore...in the off-chance that I get lucky again and feel the way I felt when I was with you. I'd happily make that bet over and over."

oh, my darling by @yoongiofmine f s a

↬ starting your second semester at one of South Korea’s most prestigious universities should be stressful enough. Between juggling classes, good grades and a social life, your plate was full. Hoping to spice up your academic career, you thought it was a good idea to enroll as an assistant for your literature professor, whom you've held a very secret and very forbidden crush on for the past several months. What will happen now that you’re forced to work closely together? And what if your crush isn’t as one sided as you thought?

little bit of your heart by @/yoongiofmine f s a ft. jjk

↬You had everything you could ever dream of; the career of your dreams as a music producer, the best friends you could ever wish for, and a exes-turned-friends-turned-fuck-buddies relationship with Min Yoongi. You knew you and Yoongi would never move past that and you were okay with it. Until a friend from your past comes back into your life, offering to give you everything you deserve, everything Yoongi couldn’t. Will Jungkook show you what you’ve been missing? Or will the new guy threaten Yoongi enough to do something about it?

sinful lust by @oddinary4bts s a ft. jjk

↬ in an attempt to spice up your bedroom life with your boyfriend Min Yoongi, you suggest bringing another man into the action. Yoongi seems reluctant at first, but when you mention his friend Jeon Jungkook, he can’t deny his attraction. All that’s left to do is to convince Jungkook into participating...

after hours by @archivedkookie f s a

↬ staying after hours with Yoongi for months proves to be a mistake when your heart falls for him.

Vows by @hamsterclaw f s a

↬ You're five years into your arranged marriage with Min Yoongi, and he's never once retaliated for anything you've done to him. One day you realise you've lost your appetite for provoking him, and you set about trying to win his heart instead.

sutures by @farfromsugafanfic f s a

↬ There was only one thing you and Min Yoongi had in common that night. You were both brokenhearted. You only intended to be together for one night, but when you both end up in the hospital the next day you discover that you are soulmates. It could kill you to be apart. As you and Yoongi attempt to sever the bond between you, will another be formed?

and so it goes by @prodagustd f s a

↬ You and Yoongi have been hooking up, having dates and spending most of the week together for almost seven months. He was comfortable without a title, until the last two weeks, when you couldn't see him because of your busy schedule, Yoongi can't understand why he misses you so bad if your relationship is just sex to him. Or maybe he does, but he's too much of a coward to admit it.

collateral by @theharrowing f s a ft. jjk & knj

↬ Your ex-boyfriend gets in over his head working for the local mafia, and Boss Min has come to collect his payment: You.

till death do us part by @colormepurplex2 s a

↬ Marital bliss isn't always a guarantee, especially when you find yourself marrying into the family responsible for your own family's demise. Sometimes, marriage is just a game of kill or be killed. Even when there is love involved, bullets still hurt.

grey area by @blushoseoks s a ft. jhs

↬ you spent the days staring at your wrist and tracing the skin where your soulmate’s name would one day appear. the nights were for telling your wrist about your day, as if the person whose name would one day stain itself there, like red wine to a dress, could possibly hear you. for years you thought up countless scenarios, imagined numerous possibilities, formulated conversations and rehearsed them over and over, until your mouth ran dry. outcomes and conclusions performed in your head on a repetitive loop. but out of everything you thought up, out of all of the time spent towards thinking about your soulmate, about what could possibly occur, none of it could ever prepare you for what would actually end up being. none of it ever came close to the way it happened when you finally met him. and now, after it’s all been said and done, you were left asking yourself one thing, and one thing only: “was it really worth all of this in the end?”

isn't it romantic by @jeonqkooks f s a

↬ Many things in life have a polar opposite: left and right, night and day, yin and yang, you and Min Yoongi... Hopeless romantic meets gloomy cynic. The only thing you seem to share is a magazine column but even then, you still can’t seem to understand how Yoongi can be called ‘The Love Doctor’ when he is the antithesis of everything love represents.

Flux by @yoonia f s a ft. jjk

↬ One of them is your longtime secret crush, while the other is the man with whom you had shared many heated nights filled with lust and forbidden desire, forever kept as your biggest secret of all time. You had sworn that those sinful nights would end, and that your secret crush would remain a secret. (poly au)

mean yoongi by @jjkpls f s

↬ Min Yoongi asks you to take care of his plants when he’s gone. It doesn’t go as planned and well, he has to deal with your misbehaving ass.

pretend by @gimmesumsuga s a

↬ “You know what they say: the best way to get over someone is to get under someone else, right?” idol au infidelity

naughty little kitten by @jungkooksxo s a ft ksj

↬ Jin figures out that you’re super into the idea of Yoongi listening in on you two having sex. Yoongi is super into listening to you and Jin having sex. Jin invites Yoongi to come play with his naughty little kitten.

babydoll by @jungcock s a

↬ Your childhood crush, now famous and successful, comes to visit you while you’re drunk and have a lot to prove.

eleven months by @bratkook f s a

↬ it’s been years of yoongi living his routine life, accustomed to his pace of living, going with the flow and simply existing. until you come along. yoongi absolutely can not see the logic in the way you live, but he weirdly craves it. craves the feeling of not being afraid of not knowing what's coming, being able to just let the cards fall wherever they land. and maybe you can help with that.

pause by @whatifyoulivelikethat s a

↬ Life is like a cassette tape. It seems like it’s constantly repeating, flipped from side A to side B, and the songs can’t be skipped. You can only pause, rewind, fast forward, play after you’ve already heard the song. After you’ve already lived it. All Min Yoongi knows is his own tape, until it smashes right at his feet, and then he has to learn to dance to a different beat.

darksided by @eoieopda f s a

↬ It all started with a bad joke and a bottle of Tanqueray.

three squeezes by @nomnomsik s a ft jhs

↬ Yoongi is notorious for his grumpy and emotionless behavior as director of an upcoming company. Yet, it’s a mystery to everyone how manager Hoseok always seems to soften him up. The truth is that the two are actually engaged. Unknown to this fact, you happen to take an interest in Hoseok… and he does too.

one-shot

bad decisions by @jjungkookislife f s

↬ Jimin is desperate to get his apartment back to himself. He’ll move hell and earth, and even drop to his knees to beg you to take his brother, Yoongi, out of his hands. Who are you to say no to that pretty face and sinister grin?

breakfast in bed by @joonbird f s

↬ “Min Yoongi, a grumpy Ikea employee, is wondering who you are and why exactly you’re sleeping in the display bed at his Ikea.”

Tricks of the Trade by @stutterfly f s a

↬ The convenience store across the street from your apartment carries your favorite energy drink. That's why you frequent it. It's definitely not because you have a big fat crush on the owner you've been flirting with for the better part of a year. Of course your brand of flirting can also be misconstrued as bickering. When a strange man wanders into the store, he thinks you need a little nudge to embrace the strings connecting you. Next thing you know you're waking up in a body that definitely doesn't belong to you. You can't decide if it's the best or worst thing that's ever happened to you.

threads by @yoonia s a ft. knj

↬ Life is full of surprises, just like how people are full of secrets. Just when you had thought you have been lucky enough to have your life figured out, life decides to throw you a curve ball when you least expect it. And there is nothing you could do to avoid it, except to hope that you could hold your secrets as tightly as you possibly could before everything blows up into smithereens.

under the willow tree by @orchidyoonkook f a

↬ The town outcast shows up in the one place you find solace from it’s residents. The people you force yourself to fit in with, even though you never want to be anything like them. Will he ruin your only place of salvation, or become the most unlikely friend?

mami by kithtaehyung s ft. knj

↬ you somehow have a conversation with yoongi, and you tell your roommate about a date date.

the devil wears valentino by @orchidyoonkook f s a

↬ Having known him for years—from a small mistake on your behalf, and a favour on his—you’re one of the only people he seems to be able to put up with for company. Certainly the only one he’s half-way decent with. But what’s more surprising to you is that despite his name, reputation, and the fact he’s always joked he’d have killed anyone else by this point, is that he’s never once tried to cause you harm.

angel by @sailoryooons f s

↬ Yoongi never meant to keep coming back. You never meant to become Yoongi’s favorite. Being Min Yoongi’s favorite has dire consequences

a boy like you by @cinnaminsvga f

↬ for whenever you are feeling low, always remember that there is a boy you know who would lift the sky for you. {or alternatively: Min Yoongi loves you, though he never says it. He’s always been a firm believer in that actions speak louder than any words ever could.}

last nite by @tayegi s a

↬ This is a zombie apocalypse AU based on The Walking Dead, The Stand, World War Z, and elements of Attack of Titan

zombie bites by @luffles424 f s a

↬ Your friends have always been willing to assist you when you need a model to practice makeup on. And with the upcoming zombie film on campus is no difference. But something feels different this time, can a zombie movie be more than just a zombie movie?

heaven's winter by @jksangelic f s a

↬ your duty as the village daughter places you in line for the season’s Offering; a tradition not to tread lightly upon. as the snow falls slow and heavy, and the seraph awaits in the shallows of the mountain, you fail to realize what the winter has in store for you.

heavy sugar by @kinktae s

↬ The Roaring Twenties were a time of great economic wealth and social change. But beneath the jazz music and colorful speakeasies were mafia led organized crimes and bloodstained cash. You knew this well, but try as you might, you just couldn’t ignore the dark and enigmatic gangster whose eyes lingered on you from across the room.

all that holly, jolly shit by @daechwitatamic f s

↬You haven’t seen or heard from Yoongi since he broke your heart five years ago, laying out a logical list of reasons why you were better off breaking up. When a Christmas Eve blizzard traps you together for the night, you have no choice but to examine how few of those reasons are still true. And if they’re not… where does that leave you?

calling the shots by @chans-room f

↬ College basketball captain Yoongi

until death by @kpopfanfictrash s a

↬ Jade has always shaped the island of Kekon. Mined from the mountains, it enhances the abilities of Green Bone warriors who wear it and allows them protection from outside harm. No one understands these threats better than you do, second-in-command of the mighty No Peak clan. When a new danger appears, seeming to come from within, everything you once took for granted is called into question. Including the bonds you’ve made, some more dangerous than the others. None more so than Min Yoongi, head of No Peak and the only one capable of destroying your heart.

whatta catch by @aredheadedmess f a

↬ One, two, three strikes you’re out. When opposing opinions find you roughing it up with the university’s star pitcher, he makes it his mission to show that you’re wrong about college sports—and maybe your feelings about the player himself.

shatter me, embrace me by @95rkives s

↬you longed for him, yearning for love, yet all that awaited you was heartbreak.

you're losing me by @/archivedkookie a

↬ ❝ He’s losing you, and yet, he lets the flower die in front of his eyes instead of doing everything to save it. Alternatively, Yoongi and you are losing your love toward each other. ❞

spotlight by @back2bluesidex f a

↬ No matter how much you run away from Yoongi, Yoongi always comes right back to you.

all the wrong places by @mrworldwideshoulders f a

↬ After getting separated from your friends during a night out, you get stuck with a hefty bill – one that you can’t pay. So when a handsome, emotionless stranger covers your tab in a random act of kindness, you’re determined to track him down and pay him back. inspired by 24K Magic by Bruno Mars.

now we reign by @/oddinary4bts f s a

↬ when working on a collab together makes you and Min Yoongi seek comfort with the other, you discover there’s more to life than loneliness. Only, hurdles mark your path in Min Yoongi’s life, and it’s unclear what the outcome will be. Will you be destroyed by him and his world, or will you learn to reign over it, together with him?

stay by sugarwithtea f s a

↬ what happens when you get stranded in a remote town with no place to live except for a lodge owned by a dangerously handsome but annoying man? yeah, a lot.

when the stars align by @itskimtaehyung f

↬ With cuffing season approaching its end, you thought you had escaped the pressures of finding a boyfriend for the holidays. That is, until your friends set you up on a blind date that goes horribly wrong. This prompts you to enlist the help of your roommate, Yoongi, to fake a relationship so your friends will stop meddling in your love life. And it turns out Yoongi is a lot better at this romance thing than you originally thought...

egotstic by @pasteljeon s a ft. knj

↬ The timing was never right. He loved you when you were kids, knees scraped and cheeks red. You loved him when pimples bloomed across his skin, voice cracking and he found solace in the scribbled lines in his notebook. The stars never seemed to align for the two of you, but perhaps it was because you were meant for someone else.

on the court by @centerhaechan f

↬ As captain of your school's winning women's basketball team, it is only understood that you despise the men's basketball team and their captain. Your main rival, Min Yoongi, enjoys testing your patience while he attempts to lead his own team to a championship victory. Your coaches believe you both have problems with teamwork, and insist that working together will produce a promising solution.

sugar by @zehakoo f s

↬ desperately in need of sugar to make coffee in order to ease down your headache, you find yourself knocking on a strangers door who happens to be your best friend’s friend and the finest man you’ve ever encountered.

from the ashes by @fortunexkookie s a

↬ Someone is sobbing ugly, wrecked sounds that shatter the silence in the room. You need them to stop; it’s distracting and you need to focus. You need to clean the ash from his skin. You need to comb the knots from his hair. You need to dress his beautiful body in something befitting the king you know he is… but the sobbing is too loud, and your vision is blurry. It takes Yoongi wiping your tears away for you to realize that the gasping cries echoing off the stone are coming from you.

the dark by @/bratkook s

↬ your small town thrives on the occult, luring tourists in with endless themed festivities, but the only place you’re determined to see is the mysterious club that comes to life the week before Halloween. what makes The Dark so exclusive, and what secrets are they hiding behind closed doors?

Triplicity by @kainks ft. jhs

↬ Distance is a cruel thing, and when you find yourself going astray, they are there to help remind you of just where exactly you belong.

fermata by @jeongi f s

↬ fer·ma·ta: from fermare, it means to stay or to stop. min yoongi teaches you exactly how to let go.

private lessons by @dntaewithluv f s

↬ Your little sister finds it odd how you’ve been taking private lessons from her piano teacher for over a month now, but she hasn’t heard you actually play even once…

first love by @geniuslab f s a

↬You learn a lot of new things in your first year of university, including what it feels like to fall in love.

↬looking for other myg fics or the other bts members check out my library

3K notes · View notes

kingofbodyrolls · 5 months ago

Text

End of the World (m) | myg

→ Summary: Your government has been telling you to prepare for war, just as a precaution given the recent political changes around your country. Did you listen and prepare? No. Are you paying the price now, friends all but gone, and your city burned to pieces? Yes. Survival instincts kicking in, you search for a place to rest, nourish your battered and hungry body, only to find yourself at the porch of a stranger. Will he help you, or leave you to your own demise? → Pairing: Yoongi x reader (female) → Genres/AUs: apocalyptic, survival, co-dependency to stay alive + heavy angst, fluff and smut with a very small sprinkle of comedy. → Tropes: strangers to lovers + forced proximity & only one bed (because I love that shit) → Rating: mature/explicit/R18 (this is mature/explicit content, so minors, please do not interact.) → Word count: 21.3k 🫣 → Warnings + triggers: nuclear war (bombings), fire, death (people are dying so and some minor side characters die), blood and wounds (also features a lot), period blood, ptsd behavior and reactions, hunger (no access to food), anxiety attacks, hyperventilation, guns and knifes, shooting, self defense, m*rder in self defense, exposure to radiation. Minor character deaths. The ending is open and bittersweet. The story is just really grim and angsty and sad (but also comforting) 🤷 → Warnings (explicit: smut): oral (f and m receiving), nipple play/sucking, fingering, multiple orgasms, hair pulling, dirty talk, pleasing kink, protected sex (it might be the end of the world, but fret not Yoongi’s got condoms!), clit play, cockwarming, kissing, a small scene of public sex (they are outside on a hill, np people around). → Author’s note(1): So I have mixed feelings about it and the smut got less detailed than what I usually write (because I’m getting a bit tired of smut honestly, so sorry if it sucks), and I’m scared of what you’ll think of it— but here it is! I felt a lot of pressure with it, so I had my husband beta-ing it 😂 Which gave us a lot of laughs! I hope you enjoy it ⭐ → Read on AO3? [link]

[navi]: end of the world // end of the world: a flickering hope // shower drabble // whalien52 // end of the world: epilogue

A deep, ominous rumbling reverberates through the silence, a sinister caress against your ears.

Eyes shut tight, your breaths are slow and steady, an island of peace in a sea of unrest. But the tranquility shatters as the rumbling intensifies, transforming into a relentless quake that grips your bed. You jolt awake, eyes opening just in time to be seared by a blinding white flash, burning into your vision with a harsh, unforgiving light.

Your ears ring with an unforgiving high pitched sound that makes it feel like your ears are bleeding.

You flinch, squeezing your eyes shut once more, but the world doesn’t let you escape.

A cacophony of rumbling, shaking, and distant, panicked screams erupts around you.

When you dare to open your eyes again, your bedroom has transformed into a nightmarish landscape— no longer a safe, enclosed space, but exposed to the elements. The dark sky looms overhead, thick with acrid smoke. Everything is engulfed in an oppressive, inky gloom that seems so dark, dark, dark.

You curl into yourself on the bed, eyes wide as you take in the scene around you. It’s like a nightmarish tableau image from a dystopian survival movie: the once serene sky is now obliterated, suffocated by a churning ocean of thick, acrid smoke. Flames roar hungrily around you, casting an eerie, flickering light on the chaos. The air is thick with the sound of terrified screams and the relentless boom of destruction. Your breath comes in ragged gasps, your heart pounding furiously, as if it might burst from your chest at any moment.

The rumbling returns, more ominous this time, and you look up to see a fighter jet slicing through the smoke-choked sky. It releases a payload, and your heart clenches in dread. A deafening explosion follows as the bomb strikes, setting your ears ablaze again, and obliterating buildings and scarring the landscape. The screams of the people around you become a haunting symphony of terror. It feels like you’re trapped in an unending nightmare, each second more horrifying than the last.

You pinch yourself hard—so hard it breaks the skin, and a thin trail of blood trickles down. But the pain barely registers. You squeeze your eyes shut, then open them again, desperate to end the nightmare before you. This has to be a trick of the mind, an illusion, right?

But the horrifying reality remains unchanged, pressing in on you from all sides.

No. It’s not a trick of the mind.

The stark, horrifying reality sets in as your throat tightens and your body thrums with fear. This is real. This is happening—to you, to your friends—fuck. Your roommates.

Panic seizes you as you leap off the bed, the house now a fragmented ruin, its sections strewn outside in the chaos. Heart pounding, you scramble through the wreckage, desperately searching for your friends amid the devastation.

Please, let them be okay—you can’t face this alone.

You’re not prepared for this.

You can’t do this.

When the government warned about preparing for a potential war or a nuclear disaster, you thought it was a grim joke. You never believed it would actually happen—never believed it would happen to you. But now, the cold, harsh reality is crashing down around you, and the fear is suffocating.

Tears blur your vision, making it hard to see. The acrid air burns your lungs, and each breath is a struggle. The ringing in your head makes you dizzy. You cough violently, but you press on, driven by a desperate need to find your two roommates. You have to make sure they’re okay, no matter the cost.

A sound of coughing reaches your ears, and a wave of relief washes over you. You spot some of Hana’s belongings scattered on the ground, charred at the edges. The acrid smell of burnt fabric stings your nose. There, sprawled halfway on her bed, is Hana—coughing, crying, her eyes barely open, a picture of despair amid the wreckage.

“Hana?” you croak, your voice sounding strangled and unfamiliar, as if someone else is speaking. The dissonance sends your heart pounding even harder in your chest, the fear and urgency nearly overwhelming you.

She coughs again, crimson droplets falling from her lips, staining the ground beneath her. The sight of her blood on the ground sends a wave of dread through you. Rushing to her side, you assess her quickly; her complexion is pallid, drained of life. Each shallow breath she takes seems an agonizing struggle, as if the very act of breathing is draining her strength.

She struggles to speak, but you gently shake your head, tears streaming down your face. Deep down you know she won’t survive this. Your throat tightens painfully, a lump forming as you grasp the harsh reality. She’s not just a friend; she’s your best friend. Your hands tremble as you reach out, brushing away her tears, feeling the warmth of her blood on your fingertips. You don’t care about the stains. All you want is to offer her comfort, to reassure her even as your own doubts and tears blur your vision.

How could any of this ever be okay?

How is this your reality?

She leans into your trembling hand, her eyelids fluttering closed as she takes her final breath. A wave of anguish washes over your face, and you collapse beside her, your forehead touching hers. The weight of grief presses down on you, a suffocating blend of fear, helplessness, and nausea.

The distant screams jolt you back to the present, your chest tight with anguish for your best friend. With a heavy heart, you tear yourself away, knowing there’s another roommate who needs your help—Yuri.

Tears sting your eyes as you navigate cautiously through the debris. Your gaze fixates on a pair of shoes—whether they belong to you or Hana doesn’t matter now. Snatching them up, you slide them onto your bare, blistered feet, grateful for any protection from the searing ground and jagged remnants of the house strewn about.

You locate Yuri swiftly amidst the chaos; her bewildered expression a fleeting moment of relief. Your heart leaps at the sight of her alive. Ignoring the acrid smoke that burns your lungs, you pull her into a tight embrace with both of you coughing violently in the toxic air.

“What happened?” Yuri’s voice rasps through fits of coughing. Her wide eyes reflecting fear and confusion, her pallid face etched with disbelief.

“I don’t know,” you cry out desperately, clinging to Yuri as if your life depends on it, unwilling to let go for fear she might vanish into the chaos. Your grip tightens, desperate to shield her from the crumbling world around you.

Then, in the distance, alarms pierce the air with a relentless wail. A chill races down your spine, and as you meet Yuri’s gaze, an unspoken understanding passes between you—this is no accident. War has come.

You never thought this day would come, always dismissing warnings from politicians as distant, improbable threats. But now, as reality crashes down around you, you realize you should have listened. You should have prepared for the worst, braced for the impossible. Panic grips you as you face the stark truth: there’s no escaping it now. What the hell are you supposed to do?

The distant drone of planes echoes through the sky once more, and a chill of dread courses through your trembling body. You never imagined you’d fear the sound of airplanes, but in these shifting times, everything has become a harbinger of uncertainty.

The cityscape around you lies in ruins with buildings shattered and strewn like broken toys. The urgency grips you as you realize the only option left: escape the city.

Now.

“Yuri, we need to move,” you declare urgently, your eyes wide with dread—for the uncertain future, for your very survival. You curse under your breath, trying to quell the rising panic threatening to consume you.

Yuri’s eyes remain wide, almost vacant, as if she struggles to comprehend the shattered reality that surrounds you both—a new world, unfathomable and bleak.

You snap Yuri out of her stupor, dragging her along as you navigate through the shattered bathroom. The toilet lies in ruins on the ground, shards of the shower surround you like jagged teeth. Despite the chaos, you spot the first aid kit amidst the debris, knowing it will be crucial in this harsh new reality.

Yuri’s voice trembles as she blurts out, “We need to take those pills. In the pouch. I got them just in case. They’re potassium iodide pills and will protect your thyroid if there’s radioactive iodine in the bomb.” You hesitate for a moment, then nod in grim understanding. Snatching the pouch from its battered position, you fumble with it until you locate the pills. Each of you swallows one with a gulp, the bitter taste clinging to your tongue like a grim reminder of the world outside. With a heavy sigh, you tuck the pouch back into the depleted first aid kit.

“We need to find bags and gather anything useful,” you mutter. Your mind races in overdrive as you calculate what essentials are necessary for survival in this new reality.

Amidst the cacophony of screams and the encroaching flames, you and Yuri spring into action, scouring the wreckage for backpacks. They will be easier to carry when every ounce counts. Your hands shake as you rummage through the debris, grabbing water bottles, clothing, and anything else salvageable. Panic sets in, your heart pounding, realizing you need food too, right?

You trudge toward the kitchen, but it’s a wasteland—shattered glass, twisted metal, and the acrid smell of burnt remnants fill the air. Nothing remains salvageable, not even a scrap of food.

Panic surges through you.

No food?

How will you survive?

The reality hits hard: you’ll need to scavenge for food while fleeing the city. The wreckage around you is overwhelming, casting doubt on finding anything edible. How long can a person endure without food? The question gnaws at your mind, amplifying your fear and uncertainty.

Deflated, you sigh, the weight of uncertainty pressing down on you. Survival seems impossible, but you force a hopeful smile as you reunite with Yuri, masking your despair. The world around you is shrouded in darkness and gloom, every step a reminder of the bleakness ahead.

Screams echo all around you, a relentless assault on your senses. You try to block them out, but it’s impossible—the anguished cries of the wounded, the desperate calls for loved ones, the raw agony and fear permeate the air.

It’s unbearable; a living nightmare.

You ache to grieve for your friend, but there’s no time to stand still, no time to mourn what’s lost. With a heavy heart, you force yourself not to look back at Hana’s lifeless form. Grabbing Yuri’s hand, you push ahead, driven by a single, desperate resolve: to escape this hellish city. And fast.

Your body shivers despite the fires warming the air slightly. It’s still cold in the middle of September. You glance down at yourself, taking in your attire—a satin nightgown, its lacy seams stained with blood. But you can’t afford to care, nor do you have time to change. Your sole focus is to escape this hellscape, to put as much distance as possible between you and the burning city before worrying about anything else.

You pull Yuri away from the remnants of your house, each step deliberate as you navigate the treacherous debris. The ground is a minefield of twisted metal and shattered glass, and you can’t afford an injury.

Your heart races and your body shivers uncontrollably, but you force yourself to push forward. The streets are a nightmarish landscape of charred bodies, gutted buildings, and smoldering wreckage. The air is thick with the sounds of anguished cries and desperate shouts. Shattered windows, jagged glass, and twisted metal litter your path as flames roar high into the darkened sky.

You can’t fathom how quickly everything spiraled into chaos. In mere seconds, then minutes, the world you knew disintegrated into a living nightmare.

Your legs feel like lead, your mind foggy and exhausted. The cold, smoke-laden air clings to your lungs, but you force yourself to press on. Yuri’s hand in yours is the only anchor in this hellish new reality, a faint source of calm amid the chaos.

Thankfully, you live on the outskirts of the city.

Normally, you’d discern it was nighttime just by looking at the sky, but now, the sky is pitch black and choked with smoke. You avert your gaze from the devastated city and look toward what seems like a serene, calm direction. Is it an illusion, a cruel trick of your mind?

Desperation tugs at you, urging you toward this perceived sanctuary, a beacon of safety amidst the chaos.

Yuri coughs harshly behind you, and you spin around, dread tightening your chest as she spits up blood. You try to reassure yourself, though deep down, you know it’s futile.

“I don’t want to die,” Yuri pants between coughs, her voice strained with fear. You grip her hand tighter, desperate to offer reassurance in a world where safety is a fleeting illusion.

“You’re not going to die,” you assert, the words tasting bitter on your tongue, a feeble attempt to dispel the pervasive fear. “We’ll find a safe place, find some food, and make it through— everything will be fine.” You try to infuse conviction into your voice, but the hollowness echoes back at you, revealing the truth you dare not acknowledge.

But maybe if you keep telling yourself that everything is fine enough times, reality will bend to your desperate wishes?

You’ve been walking for what feels like an eternity, your sense of time warped by the perpetual darkness above. There’s no sky to gauge the hour anymore— gone as the stars that once were.

Your feet ache, battered and throbbing with exhaustion, begging for respite. The need for rest weighs heavily on you, but the city’s relentless grip refuses to release you. The daunting truth forces a weary sigh from your lips.

Yuri trembles, tears mingling with the grime on her cheeks, and you can’t shake the thought that she might be falling ill. Dread gnaws at you—what if it’s something fatal?

Your legs refuse to carry you any further, and staying exposed on the desolate road is a dangerous gamble. You’ve sensed shadows trailing your every move—what do they seek? Your clothes, the rations you don’t have, your very survival kit? You dare not linger to discover their intentions, yet exhaustion demands a pause. You must rest, even as paranoia grips your weary mind, hoping for a brief refuge to steady your faltering steps.

Adrenaline surges, urging you to hasten your steps, desperate to lose the shadowy figures trailing behind. The cityscape thins as you approach its outskirts. The dwindling buildings offer fewer places to conceal yourselves. Despite the fewer options, you’re determined to evade capture. With a sharp turn, you pull a breathless Yuri around the corner, heart pounding in sync with the echoing footsteps behind you.

You slip into a ravaged boutique, its shattered door gaping wide for easy entry. The dim interior reveals racks of torn clothing and broken mannequins strewn across the floor. You guide Yuri deeper inside, settling her on the dusty tiles. Her pallid face stands out starkly in the oppressive darkness, a chilling reminder of the perilous world outside. The thought of losing another friend tonight claws at your gut, urging you to find safety and respite in this decaying sanctuary.

“How are you holding up?” you inquire, your voice tinged with apprehension. Despite your fear of the response, you must know.

She trembles, her voice quivering. “I’m not doing well,” she admits. Her eyes wide with unspoken dread. “I don’t think I’ll make it.”

“Of course you will,” you choke out, your voice cracking with emotion, unable to confront the specter of death. The memory of Hana’s bloodied face flashes vividly in your mind, tears tracing the path down your grimy cheeks. Why must this nightmare persist?

“You’re a lousy liar, you know?” she quips weakly, a grim chuckle escaping her lips as she coughs up blood, wiping her mouth with a trembling hand. She studies the red stains on her palm with resignation, exhaling heavily.

You furrow your brow. Deep down, you know your attempts at optimism are feeble at best. In your friend group, you’ve always been the pragmatic realist, but now, you’ll play the role of hopeful optimist if it means coaxing a smile from Yuri’s pale face. You bite back any further words, aware that Yuri can read you like a book, predictable as always.

You slump onto the frigid tile floor of the store, grateful for a brief respite from the relentless march. The cold seeps through your clothes, a bitter reminder of the world outside, but your weary feet finally find a moment’s reprieve.

You’re uncertain how much time Yuri has left, but you’re determined to muster every ounce of strength to lead both of you to safety, far from the chaos—this inferno of a city, this relentless war that has begun.

How long will this last?

The shuffle of broken glass on the tile sends a shiver down your spine, sharpening your senses. Someone approaches, and you’re defenseless. Panic grips you—this is bad. Very bad.

Footsteps echo ominously, a chilling reminder of imminent danger. Yuri’s gaze meets yours, wide with fear and tears threatening to spill. The certainty settles in—this is how you die.

A looming silhouette emerges—a figure cloaked in darkness; their presence ominous and foreboding. Dread creeps up your spine as you realize the danger before you.

You scramble backward, but the shelves halt your retreat, trapping you in a corner with no escape. Panic surges as time slips away—your feet ache, and Yuri’s condition weighs heavily. The man advances, his silence more menacing than any threat, his cold, unyielding gaze fixed upon you.

Uncertain of the stranger’s intentions—murder or something worse? Your heart races, adrenaline surges through your veins as he moves closer. In a split-second decision, survival instincts take over. You lunge, sinking your teeth into his arm, tasting the metallic tang of blood. Like a desperate animal, you bite down harder, unrelenting until he screams in agony and collapses to the ground, clutching his injured limb.

“You fucking bitch!” he spits, struggling to rise despite the pain.

You hiss through clenched teeth, rising to your feet, closing the distance to charge at him, a wild glint in your eyes. “Try me again, and I’ll bite your fucking dick off.” The threat hangs heavy in the air, punctuated by the burning cityscape beyond. Your blood simmers with adrenaline, a primal urge overshadowing your usual self-control. You’re not yourself anymore, but one thing is clear; you’re more than willing to follow through.

He flinches, a flicker of fear crossing his face, and satisfaction courses through you. Your grin widens as he scrambles backward toward the shattered entrance, then finally turns and bolts, disappearing into the smoke-laden darkness.

You exhale sharply, unaware you’d been holding your breath. Returning to Yuri, still hunched over on the floor, clutching her stomach, you kneel beside her, heart pounding in dread as you examine her stomach.

Carefully prying her hand away, the sticky warmth confirms your fear— blood, seeping from her abdomen. Swiftly lifting her nightshirt, you reveal a small yet troubling wound. Fumbling through your backpack, your hands find the first aid kit amidst the chaos, extracting antiseptic to cleanse the injury. With trembling hands, you cover it with gauze and secure it with tape, knowing it’s a temporary fix— but this will have to do for now.

“I think debris hit me when the first bomb struck,” she explains, her breath ragged and filled with pain.

“It’s okay. It’s not that bad,” you manage to say, forcing a smile that fails to reach your eyes. Who were you kidding anyway?

You settle beside her, allowing her head to rest on your shoulder. “Let’s rest. You sleep, and I’ll keep watch,” you murmur, scanning the shadows with wary eyes.

Her head nestles against your shoulder and neck. “But you need rest too,” she whispers. Her voice is barely audible over the distant sounds of chaos echoing through the shattered cityscape.

“I’ll sleep later. Don’t worry about it; just go to sleep,” you command, the edge in your voice betraying the fear and exhaustion gnawing at you. You didn’t mean to sound so stern, but the cold reality of the situation weighs heavily on your shoulders. You wish someone could offer you the same reassurance— tell you this is all just a bad dream. Soon you’ll wake up and everything will be as it was.

Or for someone to tell you this is all just a movie, and you’re just an actress playing your part in some bizarre doomsday flick. But deep down, you know you’re no actress, this is no movie— sadly, this is real life, and you’re just a twenty-nine-year-old woman with a dead-end job.

Guess you don’t have that job at the café anymore. There’s probably no café left standing. The place likely went up in flames like much else in the city.

You listen to Yuri’s breathing, its slow cadence a brief respite from the cacophony outside—planes droning, people fleeing, and the distant echoes of screams. In just a few hours, these sounds have become the new normal, yet each one still sends a shiver down your spine.

You keep vigil through the restless hours as you had assured Yuri. Time blurs in the suffocating darkness, making it impossible to discern whether it’s night or day. Hours seem to stretch like endless tendrils of despair. With dawn or dusk lost to the smoke-filled horizon, you gently rouse Yuri, steeling yourself to resume your desperate quest for safety.

Yuri’s voice, usually vibrant and full of life, now emerges as a subdued whisper. “So it wasn’t just a nightmare…” Her words hang heavy in the air, laced with the grim realization that this dystopian nightmare has become your bleak reality.

“I’m afraid so,” you admit, your voice echoing in the desolate store. “We have to keep moving. Get out of the city.” Your limbs ache with every movement, a constant reminder of the night’s horrors. Yawning, you rise and gently pull Yuri to her feet. Before venturing out, you take a sip of water from your dwindling supply, feeling hunger gnaw at your stomach. Food is a distant luxury now, replaced by the urgency of survival.

Stepping out of the store, you survey the aftermath; where once vibrant flames danced, now only smoldering ruins remain. The landscape is awash in gray and ash falling like snow, towering skyscrapers reduced to skeletal frames or gaping maws of destruction. Smoke billows thick and acrid, clawing at your throat with every breath, forcing a cough to escape. This city, once teeming with life, now lies desolate and unrecognizable—a shattered testament to a world irreparably changed. This was your home, but now it’s a forsaken wasteland, a haunting reminder of the relentless march of destruction closing in around you.

If you manage to escape this city, this will probably never be your home again.

Pressing onward, you drag a weary, ghostly-pale Yuri in tow. Each step feels like a battle against the weight of the world collapsing around you, but you refuse to relent. The streets stretch out before you, barren and haunting, a maze of debris and ominous shadows. You move cautiously, every sound magnified in the eerie silence of the ruined cityscape, knowing that survival hinges on reaching safety, no matter how small the steps.

You walk and walk. The road stretches endlessly into the horizon, an unrelenting path of despair. Gradually, the landscape shifts from the shattered remnants of the city to the bleak desolation of nature, though nothing remains green. Everything is gray and charred, the outskirts bombed into an unrecognizable wasteland. Each step is a journey through the aftermath of destruction, a grim testament to the world that once was.

Body heavy and feet blistered, you can barely drag yourself forward, and Yuri is faring even worse. You decide to stop, the weight of exhaustion forcing your hand. The world around you is silent save for the distant echoes of disaster. You find a small, secluded spot to relieve yourself, then reach into your backpacks for the precious water bottles. The liquid is a lifeline in this scorched, desolate landscape.

“I think I’m dying,” Yuri pants as she collapses onto a stone, her face ghostly pale, lips tinged with blue, eyes glassy and distant. The sight sends a cold lump forming in your throat, a suffocating denial choking you because you can’t accept this as reality. It has to be just a stupid fucking nightmare.

You glance at your arm where you pinched yourself yesterday. The tiny scar is a mocking reminder of your futile hope. You barely register the pain; all you want is for this nightmare to end, for the world to return to a semblance of normalcy.

“You’re not dying,” you insist, voice trembling as you crouch down to meet her gaze. But her eyes are distant, unfocused, as if she’s already slipping away. A tear escapes down your cheek, cutting through the grime of this hellish reality.

“Stop lying, bitch,” she hisses, her voice a fragile blend of defiance and despair. She rolls her eyes in mock anger, the gesture marred by the blood she spits up, staining the ground like a cruel reminder of reality.

“I can’t walk anymore, and my stomach hurts so bad,” she pants, tears streaming down her dirt-streaked face as she clutches her wound. Blood seeps through her shirt, a grim testament to her worsening state. You glance up at the sky, a bleak, gray expanse that offers no solace. Clenching your fist, you rage silently at the faceless enemies responsible for this devastation. It’s not just your friends; it’s the entire city, maybe the whole country. Fear gnaws at you as you realize you have no idea of the world’s state. Is it just your country? The entire world? You curse yourself for not packing a radio to stay informed.

You’re wondering if there would be any information on your phone, but you don’t want to use it, because you don’t have anything to charge it with. You want to save it for extreme emergencies.

“We’re finally out of the city,” you say, trying to infuse your voice with hope. “Maybe we can make it to another house down the road that can help us.” The words feel hollow, and you both know the truth: Yuri isn’t going to make it that far. Her labored breathing and the pallor of her skin betray the grim reality.

She coughs up more blood, almost choking. “We both know the next house is in the next city, over a hundred kilometers away,” she rasps, each word a painful reminder of the hopelessness stretching before you.

You lower your gaze to the grimy, ash-covered road. She’s right, of course. It’s likely far more than a few hundred kilometers, and the trek ahead promises to be an endless, harrowing journey through desolation.

Ashes swirl in the air like snow, a haunting reminder of your ravaged city. For a fleeting moment, you glance back, taking in the sight of crumbling buildings, smoldering remnants, and the acrid stench of smoke that clings to your senses. The scene turns your stomach, and you double over beside Yuri, bile rising in your throat, the bitter taste lingering like a grim testament to the city’s devastation.

“I’m freezing… Will you stay with me? Wrap your arms around me?” she pleads, her voice trembling with cold and fear, tears welling in her eyes, mirrored in yours. You nod silently, your heart heavy with the weight of what’s to come. She collapses onto the ground, and you join her, enveloping her frail, shivering form in your arms, seeking warmth amidst the chilling winds that whisper of desolation and despair.

“Promise me you’ll do everything you can to get to safety, okay?” she stutters, tears streaming down her cheeks, mixing with yours. Your heart breaks because you don’t want this reality. You can’t bear to lose another friend, but you’re helpless. You’re no doctor, and Yuri’s injuries are beyond your ability to heal. It’s a cruel truth that gnaws at your soul. Anger surges through you, directed at whoever orchestrated this devastation upon your friends, your city, your homeland. This world has become a cold and merciless place.

You’ve always been an ugly crier, and this is no different, but neither of you cares as tears stream uncontrollably down your faces. “I’ll try my best,” you manage to choke out, the words catching in your throat amidst the despair.

“When I’m gone…,” she begins, and a chill runs through your body at her words, “will you drag my body over to those bushes?” Her voice is strained, barely above a whisper, as if even speaking about her own death is too much to bear.

Even though your voice is hoarse, your wailing echoes through the desolate landscape, a mournful cry that seems to merge with the howling wind. You nod silently, tears streaming down your face, blurring the bleak surroundings into a haunting blur of despair and loss.

“Thank you,” she whispers, her voice barely audible as she lays her head down on your shoulder. Her breaths are faint and fleeting, each one a fragile thread in the unraveling tapestry of her life. You hold your breath, feeling the weight of each passing moment as her heartbeat dwindles, a painful echo of the world falling silent around you.

Your fists clench involuntarily, a futile attempt to grasp the reality unfolding before you: sitting beside your dying friend in this bleak, shattered world. This isn’t how life was supposed to be—witnessing the unraveling of everything you hold dear. You never signed up for this torment, this heart-wrenching despair that consumes you.

Why?

The question lingers like a haunting echo in the desolation.

Yuri’s breathing slows to a crawl, each breath a strained whisper of life. You turn your gaze to her face, her eyelids fluttering faintly—she’s clinging to existence. The agony etched on her features is unbearable, and a chilling realization settles in: maybe death is a mercy in this ravaged world. Her suffering is too much to endure, and part of you wishes she could escape it. It’s a cruel acceptance, knowing that letting go might be the kindest act left, even though you really don’t want her to go.

The silence closes in like a shroud, burnt leaves swirling in the air, whipped by the relentless wind. It’s eerie, the smoke and ash embracing everything. Your hand seeks Yuri’s, fingers tracing to her wrists, and there, you check for her pulse—absent, lost amidst the desolation.

You scream and cry, heedless of any who might hear amidst the desolate landscape. This world, so callous and unforgiving, engulfs you. Tears cascade down like a torrent, emotions unchecked. You gasp for air in the acrid, ashen atmosphere, your body trembling uncontrollably.

She’s gone. Another friend, lost to this merciless world.

You sit there, by the side of the road, time slipping through your fingers like sand in a storm. Hours pass, maybe more, the world reduced to desolation around you. A lone figure passed by earlier, casting a glance your way, but the urgency of survival drove him on, leaving you and your dead friend to the merciless elements. The city’s ruins loom in the distance behind you, a reminder of the chaos that has consumed everything.

You know you must move, but before you leave, there’s a promise to fulfill for Yuri.

You relieve yourself and step back onto the road, eyes fixed on the distant horizon that seems miraculously untouched by the ravages of war. That glimmer of hope pulls you forward. You have to reach it. No matter the distance, no matter the obstacles, you must get there.

It’s your only chance.

You walk and walk—days blur into weeks. Your clothes hang off your frame, tattered and too big. Bombings have become a constant backdrop, each explosion a distant rumble you barely acknowledge. The earth’s violent shudders no longer faze you. Hunger gnaws at you, a relentless companion, its grip tightening until you can’t even remember your last meal. Water, your only steadfast ally, has kept you moving; without it, you’d have long since fallen.

You trudge along the desolate highway, the city a distant speck on the horizon behind you. You have no sense of how far you’ve traveled, only that the remnants of your home have shrunk to a mere dot in your vision. The road stretches endlessly ahead, a bleak reminder of the ground yet to cover.

Dizziness is your constant companion now, your throat is parched as the Sahara despite your efforts to hydrate. Water is scarce, and you’ve been rationing it for days. Hope feels like a distant memory, and though the elusive horizon you’ve been chasing for weeks appears closer, it still seems maddeningly out of reach.

Your body feels like lead, your feet swollen and throbbing with every step.

Sleep is a distant memory, haunted away by visions of blood-streaked faces, final breaths, and echoing cries. Bloodshot eyes and a disheveled appearance mark your struggle; you’re still in your tattered nightdress, stained with blood and reeking of fear and sweat.

No food, no shower, just the relentless march through this wasteland.

You’ve lost track of time—is it still September?

The biting cold cuts through you, your torn and ruined shoes barely offering any protection. You trudge onward, desperate to find shelter, weary of hiding in the bushes from strangers who might wish you harm. Paranoia grips you; every rustle in the distance, every shadow makes you jump. Trust is a luxury you can’t afford. You feel like you’re unraveling, teetering on the edge of sanity.

The roses have withered, frost seeping into your bones. The birds no longer sing at dawn, and the grass by the roadside shrivels to brown. In the encroaching darkness, the cries of the forsaken echo—abandoned by fate and by man.

When your eyes land on a solitary house down a side street off the main road, you can hardly believe it. You’re nowhere near your end goal, the neighboring city, yet here it is—a lonesome house in the middle of fucking nowhere. You chuckle, convinced you’ve lost your mind. Why would there be a house out here, untouched by the chaos? You blink repeatedly, but the house remains. Your feet carry you forward, despite your spinning head and the jumbled mess of thoughts in your mind.

The house, partially concealed by tall trees and lush bushes miraculously untouched by bombs, seems like a relic from a forgotten world. An old jeep, battered but intact, sits beside the porch with its white picket fence. You approach cautiously, every step feeling surreal, and lift your hand to knock. Your bloody knuckles leave crimson smears on the pristine white door, a stark reminder of the nightmare you can’t escape.

You lose track of time standing there, every second stretching into an eternity, before the door is abruptly ripped open. You find yourself staring down the barrel of a rifle.

“Who are you?” a male voice demands, harsh and suspicious, but the words barely register. Your vision blurs, darkness encroaching, and the last thing you feel is the hard impact of the porch floorboards against your head as you collapse.

Slowly, your eyes flutter open, your eyelids feeling like lead, gritty with exhaustion. Your vision swims, a blur of muted colors and shadowy shapes. You blink, trying to bring the world into focus. Through the haze, you make out a figure sitting on a chair not far from you. Panic grips your chest.

Fuck.

Where are you?

Your pulse quickens, and you jolt into a sitting position with a startled gasp, blinking as your vision finally clears; you find yourself in a bed, surrounded by bandages and the sterile scent of antiseptic. You’re in someone’s house—a man’s house, and he's seated across from you, watching intently.

He sports long, unkempt black hair that curls at the ends, paired with a ragged shirt jacket, torn jeans, and a plain black tee. His knees jitter nervously, as if he can’t find solace or calm in this chaotic world.

He sits clutching the rifle that had greeted your face before you blacked out. A cold shiver courses through you, fear gripping your heart at the thought of imminent danger. But if he intended to harm you, wouldn’t he have done it already?

He clears his throat, his voice cutting through the silence like a blade, harsh and demanding. His eyebrow arches in suspicion as he growls, “Who are you?”

His steely demeanor makes your throat tighten, but you swallow your fear and force out the words. “I’m Y/N. I live in the city. Well… I lived there, before…” Your voice trails off as the weight of your new reality presses down on you. Nervously, you bite your lip, eyes darting around the room. You’re in a bedroom—king-size bed, you assume. High open shelves are stocked with toilet paper, dry food, canned goods, plastic water bottles, multiple first aid kits, and warm blankets. The sight of these supplies leaves you gaping. “Are you a prepper?” you ask, disbelief tinged with a sliver of hope.

He scoffs, a bitter edge to his voice, clearly unimpressed by your assumption. “I’m not a prepper,” he snaps, eyes narrowing as he tightens his grip on the rifle. “Now, tell me what you’re doing here, unless you want me to shoot you.”

You gulp, your throat dry and tight— the cold steel of his rifle isn’t just for show. His steely eyes tell you he’s a man who will follow through on his threats. You need to speak quickly, clearly. “I’m fleeing from the city,” you sputter in a rush, words tumbling over each other. “My home is destroyed. I haven’t eaten in god knows how long, I’m thirsty, and I just want a place to rest and stay away from the war.” Your breath catches, lightheaded from the effort.

His eyebrows arch in surprise, the hard edge in his voice softening to a wary curiosity. “Have you been walking since the first bomb hit?” he asks, the malice momentarily replaced by a flicker of genuine intrigue.

You nod, exhaustion settling deep in your bones despite your unconscious respite. Time feels warped and meaningless. “How long have I been out?” you ask, the reality of your situation hitting harder as you notice you’re still in your tattered nightgown, a haunting reminder that it couldn’t have been long.

“Only an hour,” he replies, his voice a rough whisper. “I cleaned some of your scrapes and wounds.” He gestures to your arms and legs, now meticulously bandaged, the clean white stark against your dirt-streaked skin. The care feels almost alien in this ravaged world.

“Thank you,” you manage, offering a small, weary smile. The words feel foreign on your tongue. Despite the rifle and his guarded demeanor, you feel a sliver of tension ease in this fragile sanctuary.

“So you haven’t eaten anything in three weeks?” he suddenly shouts, disbelief cutting through his gruff exterior. His eyes scan you from head to toe, and you feel exposed, vulnerable under his intense scrutiny, making you squirm.

“Three weeks? That can’t be right... Maybe a week,” you mutter, your voice small as you fidget with the duvet covering your legs. You glance down at the bloodstained sheets, wondering why he placed you in the bed with your filthy clothes. But then again, in this shattered world, stained sheets are the least of your worries.

“It’s been almost three weeks since the bombings started,” he says, placing the rifle beside his chair. “I’m Yoongi, by the way. Sorry about pointing my rifle at you—it’s just...there’ve been people trying to raid my supplies.” He scratches his head, a nervous gesture that contrasts with the cold, hard edge of survival in his voice.

A sudden knock on the door startles both of you. You shiver on the bed, wide-eyed and afraid. Yoongi’s expression hardens as he swiftly picks up his rifle, eyes narrowing with suspicion. “Friends of yours?” he asks, his voice low and tense.

Your eyes dart down to your trembling hands as a tear escapes, tracing a path down your grime-streaked face. “No,” you whisper, voice cracking, “Don’t have any more of those left.”

He notices the sadness in your eyes but remains silent, rising to his feet and heading toward the front door. You follow, a compulsion driven by a mix of fear and curiosity. As you move from the bedroom through a narrow hallway, you glimpse an open living room and kitchen space before reaching the door. Yoongi raises his rifle, mirroring the moment you first encountered him.

Before he can react, the door bursts open, slamming into him and causing him to stumble back. A wild-eyed man, covered in dirt and smeared with blood, lunges inside. His crazed gaze locks onto you as he charges forward, a feral desperation in his movements.

“Give me food or I’ll kill you!” he shouts, launching himself at your exhausted body. You hit the floor with a heavy thud, groaning in pain, but adrenaline kicks in, sharpening your senses. As you claw at his skin, the man, wild-eyed and desperate, seems beyond reason, driven by hunger and survival—much like yourself.

But you need to get him off you.

Your heart pounds in your chest as you use your legs to kick him in the groin. He hisses in pain, and you seize the moment, tumbling him over. His back hits the floor with a sickening thud. You straddle him, screaming and hissing, your hands instinctively finding his throat. You press down, your vision narrowing to the singular focus of survival, fueled by desperation and fear in a world gone mad.

He fights you for control, his nails digging into your sides, tearing your nightgown. In a violent twist, he’s on top of you again, pinning you to the floor. You struggle against his weight, every muscle screaming, the cold, hard surface pressing into your spine. The room spins around you, and the desperation in his eyes mirrors your own.

But then, he’s yanked off you, dragged by his hair, Yoongi’s grip unyielding. The intruder’s wild eyes meet yours for a fleeting moment before Yoongi raises his rifle. A deafening bang is sent through the room, and the man’s body crumples. Blood splatters everywhere, painting the floor in a macabre pattern. The scent of gunpowder mixes with the iron tang of blood, and the room falls into an eerie silence, save for the ringing in your ears.

You scream, the sound raw and primal, echoing in the suffocating silence. Your heart hammers against your ribs, each beat threatening to choke you. Nausea churns in your gut as the reality of what just happened slams into you. Who the fuck is this guy? He just killed a man! Disbelief crashes over you, and fear grips your chest like a vise. The room spins, your breaths coming in rapid, shallow gasps as you teeter on the edge of hyperventilation, panic surging through your veins like ice.

You gasp for air, eyes wide with terror, as Yoongi throws the rifle to the floor. The stranger’s body lies motionless in a spreading pool of blood, a stark reminder of the brutality that surrounds you. Shivering uncontrollably, you try to crawl away from Yoongi and the corpse, each movement a struggle against your own paralyzing fear. Tears blur your vision as you sob, feeling like you’ve just traded one nightmare for another, the weight of this dystopian hell pressing down on you from all sides.

Yoongi approaches you cautiously, his voice low and soothing. “Relax, everything is okay,” he reassures, his hands extended in a calming gesture, fingers splayed to show he means no harm. Despite his gentle demeanor, you retreat further, wary and unsure if his kindness is a facade. The air is thick with tension, echoing the uncertainty of this dystopian world where trust is a luxury long lost.

“Okay? You just shot a man!” Your frantic scream echoes off the walls, each word laced with fear and disbelief as you feel the cold concrete pressing against your back. Panic rises, clawing at your throat. There’s nowhere left to go; you’re trapped, cornered in this unforgiving world.

“Yeah, he was going to kill us and steal my food.” his voice steady, as if justifying his actions were routine in this harsh reality.

You stare at him in disbelief, your gasping intensifying. “So that means he deserves to die?” The accusation hangs heavy in the air, tears streaming down your cheeks in rapid succession. Dizziness swirls through you, fingers tingling with adrenaline and fear.

“Relax,” he says again, his voice soothing yet unsettling as he moves closer.

You refuse to ease up. You want him gone, and you want this goddamn nightmare to end. You yearn for normalcy, for everything to revert to how it was before. You don’t belong here with this Yoongi, a stranger turned killer. How the hell are you going to escape this mess?

“I’m not going to hurt you,” he says, his voice steady yet tinged with an edge of authority. “If I wanted you dead, you’d be gone by now.”

His reassurances fall flat against the pounding of your heart. You struggle to process his words; your mind feels clouded, suffocated. Each breath is a battle, your chest constricting with a pain so intense, it threatens to overwhelm you.

“Please, calm down. You’re having a panic attack and you have to breathe calmly,” he urges, crouching before you. Your eyes widen with fear, anticipating harm from this stranger. Yet, as his warm hand gently rests on your shoulder, its reassuring weight steadies your erratic breaths. Tears still streaming, you gasp for air, but gradually, your breathing steadies, the tension in your chest easing with each controlled inhale.

“That’s good. Listen, I’m not gonna hurt you,” he assures, his gaze piercing into yours to convey sincerity. You nod hesitantly. Despite the fact that he’s taken a life, his actions in tending to your wounds suggest he harbors no ill intent toward you. Surely, he wouldn’t go through all that trouble if his intentions were sinister, would he?

“I can’t believe you killed a man, just like that…” you mutter in disbelief, your voice tinged with horror.

“Would you rather he killed us?” he asks bluntly, a shrug punctuating his matter-of-fact tone.

“No,” you reply, the certainty in your voice belying the tumult of emotions inside you.

“Look. It was either him or us. I’d rather live. This is just how life is now, I guess,” he says solemnly, rising to his feet and striding past the lifeless body toward the kitchen. He returns with biscuits and a water bottle. “Here, eat some crackers and drink some water. You have to start slow if you haven’t eaten in weeks,” he advises gently, handing you the items. Your fingers brush against his as you take them.

“You can take a shower; it’s in the bedroom. While you do that, I’ll get rid of the body.”

You nod, fingers trembling as you pry open the crackers and take a hesitant bite. They taste dry and unfamiliar, like they’ve been preserved for years. Your stomach churns in protest, unaccustomed to solid food after weeks of deprivation. Sipping water, you set both items down beside you.

“Thank you,” you manage to whisper, offering him a small, grateful smile, relief flooding through you as your heart finally settles into a steady rhythm.

“No problem. You can grab some of my clothes in the bathroom. That poor nightgown isn’t doing much to cover you,” he says with a slight chuckle. You glance down and realize half of your right breast is exposed, your hands instinctively flying to shield it from view.

You’re embarrassed, cheeks burning, and you scramble up from the floor, not saying a word because the humiliation is overwhelming. Your breast has been exposed all this time, likely since the scuffle with the man, and Yoongi didn’t mention it until now? You rush back to the bedroom, pushing away thoughts of Yoongi seeing you half-naked and what he might do with the body in his living room.

In the bedroom, you easily locate the in-suite bathroom at the end; it boasts a large bathtub, a sleek shower, a toilet, and a spacious sink, all in matte black with subtle white accents, strikingly minimalistic. Approaching the bathtub, you turn on the water, feeling its warmth soothe your battered hand. It’s a strange sensation, one you haven’t felt in what seems like an eternity, and a rush of anticipation flutters in your chest at the prospect of a proper shower. As the tub fills, you shed your clothes, discarding the nightgown into the garbage—it’s beyond salvaging. Glancing at yourself in the mirror, what meets your eyes is a stranger, not the person you once were but a mere shell. Your skin is streaked with grime, your face swollen, especially beneath your eyes, and your hair wild and unruly.

Finally, the tub fills to the brim, and you shut off the stream, testing the temperature with your hand—it’s perfect, pleasantly hot, promising a thorough cleanse. Eagerly, you step into the water, noting the array of shower bottles within reach. You grab one, twisting off the cap to release a refreshing minty scent that envelops you. The shampoo and conditioner bear the same invigorating fragrance. Yoongi must have a thing for mint, you think to yourself with a faint smile, grateful for this small comfort after enduring the trials of the past three weeks.

The notion that so much time has passed feels surreal, almost impossible to grasp.

You let the warm water envelop and soothe your weary body, a brief respite from the horrors that haunt you—before the bombings, before this relentless war. The shower gel lathers as you wash away the grime, shampooing your hair with a sense of renewal. For a fleeting moment, the sensation of cleansing almost allows you to forget the devastation that brought you here.

But guilt grips you tightly, a suffocating embrace. You feel the weight of being alive when your friends are gone, their lives snuffed out mercilessly. The simple joy of a bath, forever denied to them, brings tears to your eyes, mingling with the water surrounding you.

You can’t stand to stay in the tub any longer, despite not feeling physically clean. Quiet sobs escape your lips as you stand, chest tight with sorrow for what has been taken from you, and for what you can never reclaim.

Hastily, you snatch a gray towel, wrapping it around your shivering frame as tears trace silent paths down your cheeks in the mirror’s reflection. The ache for your lost friends deepens with each droplet that falls. Drying off with hurried strokes, the plush towel offers some comfort against your skin. You manage to towel-dry your hair as best as you can, seeking normalcy in the routine.

Then, a glimmer catches your eye—a toothbrush. The realization hits hard: you haven’t brushed your teeth in three weeks. Your gaze darts around the bathroom, finding only one brush. Is it gross to use someone else’s? Disgusting, maybe? You search the cabinets in vain for a spare, but finding none, you convince yourself it’s okay. You’ll sanitize it thoroughly, make it right. With meticulous care, you rinse the toothbrush under the stream, scrubbing it clean before applying toothpaste.

The brush feels foreign in your mouth, yet it scrubs away the layers of neglect, refreshing your senses in a way you hadn’t realized you craved.

When you finish, you step out into the bedroom, scanning Yoongi’s dresser for any clothing that might fit. Not expecting to find undergarments, you ponder going without or resorting to his if necessary. Pulling on a pair of gray sweatpants, you cover your legs before grabbing a black t-shirt and slipping it over your head. Spotting a pair of cozy socks nearby, you hastily put them on and make your way into the living room, the unfamiliar garments a stark reminder of the upheaval your life has become.

You step into the living room, confronted by an unsettling contrast of cleanliness and calm amidst the recent violence. It’s as if the room has been meticulously scrubbed of any trace of the fatal encounter that unfolded mere moments ago. You can’t help but question whether Yoongi is unnervingly efficient at erasing the aftermath of death or if you’ve lost track of time while in the bath, leaving you to wonder what else might have transpired in your absence.

You spot a door tucked away in the dimly lit living room, its handle cold to the touch. Slowly, you push it open, and a shiver snakes down your spine at the grim sight that greets you. “Are those... bodies?” you choke out, a mix of revulsion and horror tightening your throat as you gaze upon the macabre pile in the corner of the yard. Yoongi turns around, his expression unreadable, having added the latest stranger to what appears to be a makeshift graveyard of those he’s encountered before you.

“Yeah?” he shrugs nonchalantly, as if it’s inconsequential in the grand scheme of things.

“How many people have you killed?” you demand, hands on your hips, trying to steady your nerves.

He pauses, the silence stretching between you, each moment heightening the weight of his answer. “Five,” he finally admits, his voice carrying the weight of each life taken in this unforgiving world.

“Five?! That’s a lot— five too many,” you spit out in disbelief, the weight of his confession sinking into your bones. You can’t stand to dwell on it any longer. Death surrounds you like a shroud, and you’ve seen enough to last a lifetime. Turning away, you hear Yoongi’s footsteps approach from behind, each step a reminder of the grim reality you now face.

“Like I told you before, it was me or them. I was only defending myself and my home,” he shrugs nonchalantly, pushing the door open as you follow him into the living room. He settles onto the couch, the weight of his words hanging heavy in the air, casting a shadow over the pristine room that belies the violence it has witnessed.

“Did you have a nice shower? You smell nice,” he smiles warmly, pulling a blanket over his legs.

You gape at him—how can he be so calm? He just killed a man, and now he acts like it’s no big deal, no remorse, no hint of the violence that just transpired.

“I smell like you, and yes, your tub is very nice. Your clothes too. Thank you,” you reply, sitting down on the couch, keeping a deliberate distance between you. After what you’ve witnessed, it feels safer that way.

“You really held your own back there, with the guy. It was kinda hot,” he says, his tone as casual as discussing the weather or deciding what to eat.

Your mouth hangs open. Is this guy serious?

“Something’s seriously wrong with you if you find that hot. Please don’t tell me you’re aroused or something. I’m not touching you or helping you with your boner—I barely know you,” you say, crossing your arms defiantly across your chest.

He chuckles, a deep, resonant sound that reverberates through the room, a stark contrast to the desolation outside. You gaze at him, stunned by the unexpected display of humor.

“I’m not aroused and if I did have a boner, I could take care of it myself, don’t you worry. I just respect women who can fend for themselves,” he says with a smile, settling deeper into the worn cushions of the couch.

“Well, I know self-defense. My dad drilled it into me as a kid and teenager. Have you seen how messed up the world is? Even before this war or whatever it is, men were always preying on women or men, lurking in shadows, stalking, abducting them—doing who knows what. I had to learn to protect myself,” you explain, watching him nod in understanding, his eyes reflecting a grim acknowledgment of the world’s harsh realities.

“That’s good. Oh, I forgot to mention, I left your backpack next to the couch—by the way, you look good in my clothes,” he grins, rising from the couch and moving over to the kitchen.

“Want some dinner? I’ve got leftovers we can reheat,” he mumbles from the kitchen. You nod silently, your mind elsewhere as you walk over to your backpack. You hardly remember what kind of stuff you grabbed from home—hopefully clothes, maybe some underwear would be nice. Digging through it, you find only two pairs of leggings, three shirts, and a bra. Well, it seems like unlucky is just your color.

Doesn’t matter, you can go without panties. It might be a problem when your period comes, but that’s a worry for another day.

You hear a beep from the kitchen and join Yoongi there. Whatever he’s reheated is ready, and you take a seat at the round table positioned between the kitchen and the living room. Yoongi retrieves cold water from the fridge.

“So, you’re not a prepper, but you’ve stockpiled enough to survive indefinitely. Why?” you inquire between cautious bites, mindful of not agitating your stomach.

“Didn’t you listen to the government? They told us to prepare for anything, just in case. And I prefer to be ready. Call me a prepper if you want,” he shrugs, spearing his food with his fork.

“I noticed all your shampoo in the bathroom. What else have you stocked up on?” you ask, genuinely curious. You hadn’t prepared for any of this, refusing to believe something like a war could happen in your country.

“I’ve got spare clothes, solar-powered batteries, extra fuel for the truck, a backup generator for power outages, and even a well in the backyard in case the water supply is cut,” he lists with a chuckle. But your eyes widen almost to the point of popping out of their sockets; you’ve never encountered anyone so thoroughly prepared.

“What’s your deal then? You live out here by yourself in the middle of nowhere?” you choke out as you take a sip of your water.

“Yeah, I don’t like people,” he says with another shrug, and you almost spit out your water. Oh god, he’s probably one of those eccentric types.

“Let me rephrase that; I just prefer my own company,” he explains, his voice steady but with a hint of guardedness.

“Well, what am I doing here then?” you chuckle with a smile, though you feel some insecurities seep into your blood.

“You wouldn’t last another day out there. And it’s not that I don’t enjoy company. Maybe we can help each other out, stay alive together?” he shrugs again, and you begin to wonder if he can do anything else but shrug.

“Like make life more bearable together?” you ask, and he nods.

“Yeah. Just keep each other company. It is pretty lonely out here,” he sighs, carrying his plate back to the sink to clean and put in the dishwasher.

“We can do that,” you say, yawning and stretching your body, feeling the tiredness wash over you. You wish for a good night’s sleep, something you haven’t had in weeks.

“Sleepy?” he chuckles, flashing a pearly set of teeth and pink gums.

“Yeah. Honestly, I haven’t had proper sleep since the bombings,” you yawn again as Yoongi takes your plate and cleans it too.

“Then maybe we should go to bed?” he suggests, clearing the table.

“Yeah, if you can just show me to the guest room, that would be nice,” you yawn again, feeling the weight of exhaustion pulling you down.

Yoongi burst into laughter again, his voice echoing through the desolate walls. “Guest room? Y/N, there’s only one bedroom. You’re bunking with me unless you prefer the icy embrace of the couch.”

Your eyes widen, reluctance shadowing your thoughts as the idea of sleeping in the cold chills you. Yet, the notion of sharing a bed with him unsettles you; he remains a stranger, and despite his seemingly gentle demeanor, your instincts keep you on edge. You sigh, resigned to the exhaustion that weighs heavily on you. “Sharing a bed will have to do,” you mutter, your voice tinged with apprehension and weariness.

You both walk together to his bedroom, the air thick with a strange tension that makes your heart pound erratically in your chest. It’s not the first time you’ve shared a bed with a man without any sexual connotation, yet there’s an odd intimacy in this moment that unsettles you. You forego any further preparation, having already showered and brushed your teeth — though you remember something.

“I used your toothbrush earlier, I hope that’s okay,” you mention tentatively, eyeing the bed, its sheets faintly stained with your blood. They definitely need changing. “Do you have clean sheets?” you ask, turning towards the bathroom where Yoongi directs you to the cabinet with fresh linens and mentions he has a spare toothbrush.

You strip the stained sheets off and swiftly tuck in fresh ones, craving the comfort of a proper sleep. The thought of lying in clean bedding is a rare luxury now. There’s just one duvet, though, and you wonder if sharing it will be a challenge. Shedding the sweatpants, you opt for the black shirt, its length offering modesty. As you settle into the bed, pulling the covers snugly up to your chin, you relish the cocoon of warmth, a brief respite from the harsh reality outside.

Yoongi emerges from the bathroom, his chest bare and marked by scars on his shoulder, wearing plain black boxers. You gulp involuntarily. Damn it, you shouldn’t be ogling him like that, but your cheeks burn nonetheless.

He slides into bed beside you but maintains a respectful distance under the covers, leaving a gap that allows a chilling draft to sneak beneath the duvet, making you shiver involuntarily.

“Cold?” he asks, his voice devoid of the usual teasing tone that has marked the day. Instead, it carries a hint of genuine concern, almost comforting.

“Yeah, but I don’t want to be a burden,” you sigh, shifting to feel the warmth against your front, trying to ignore the chill creeping up your back.

“We can huddle closer for warmth,” he suggests, and you ponder it briefly, realizing it might help you sleep better anyway.

“Okay,” you agree, and moments later, Yoongi edges nearer, his chest pressing against your back. Instantly, his warmth envelops you, quelling the shivers that had plagued you.

You drift into sleep soon after. Yoongi maintains his distance, his chest against your back serving as a reassuring anchor, his hands remaining still as he promised. Finally, the respite from constant danger allows you to embrace a much-needed slumber.

You’re drenched in sweat, heart pounding against your chest, breaths coming fast and shallow as you gasp, “Don’t leave me, Yuri! Please, Hana, don’t go. Please don’t die!” You twist and turn, tears streaming down your face, overwhelmed by fear and sorrow. Your eyes refuse to open, exhaustion and dizziness enveloping you, yet vivid images flash before your mind’s eye, forcing a scream from your throat.

A pair of strong hands grips your arms, shaking you gently, and you register a voice calling out urgently, “Y/N, wake up. It’s just a nightmare. You’re safe.”

Oh, it’s Yoongi.

Right, you’re in Yoongi’s bed.

A stranger you met only hours ago.

Despite his reassurances, your body refuses to comply, shaking uncontrollably as the remnants of the nightmare cling to your senses.

“Can I hold you? Maybe it’ll help calm you down,” he suggests softly. Even though you can’t muster the strength to open your eyes, his voice anchors you.

“Please,” you sob, and he turns you gently, your back against his chest, enveloping you in his arms. His soothing shushes echo, reminiscent of comforting a restless child—surprisingly effective.

Gradually, your racing heart steadies, the tremors subside, and your breathing finds a steady rhythm.

You open your eyes to darkness enveloping the room. “I watched my friends die. Their faces haunt me almost every night,” you sob, burying yourself deeper into his embrace. Forget the fact that he’s practically a stranger; his comforting presence and the safety of his arms offer solace you’ve longed for. After endless days of running, hyper-aware and on edge, it feels strangely liberating to allow yourself this moment of vulnerability. You’re still strong, but right now, in his arms, it’s okay to seek refuge.

You feel his hand on your head, gently stroking your hair. “It’s okay. It will get better with time,” he reassures you.

Sniffling, you surrender to exhaustion, finding solace in his arms once more. Despite your initial reservations and the day’s unsettling events, you feel an unexpected sense of safety with him. Weariness overtakes your caution, and you drift into a deep sleep, cradled by Yoongi’s reassuring presence throughout the night.

When you wake, a sticky, uncomfortable wetness between your thighs jolts you into full consciousness. You sit up and glance at Yoongi, still asleep beside you, his long hair tousled and face serene, lips slightly parted with steady breaths. Dread fills your gut as you peel back the covers. The sight of blood staining the white sheets freezes your breath, a scream clawing its way out of your throat, piercing the quiet of the room.

Yoongi bolts upright, momentarily disoriented, his eyes darting around the room for danger. His gaze falls on the crimson-stained sheets and your trembling form. Panic flashes across his face as he instinctively reaches for you.

“Are you hurt?” he asks, his voice low and raspy with sleep, cutting through the air like a blade.

You force yourself to calm down, the panic subsiding as you realize the source of the blood. “No, it’s just my period,” you pant, trying to steady your breath and racing heart. It hits you with a mix of relief and embarrassment—over a month since your last one, but the sight of the stained sheets fills you with shame.

Yoongi’s tension eases, his shoulders relaxing. “Oh,” he says, understanding dawning in his eyes. There’s no danger, just the harsh reality of life. He gives you a comforting look, a rare softness in his hardened gaze.

“I’m sorry,” you ramble, sliding off the bed, mortified by the mess. “I didn’t wear underwear because my panties were ruined, and I didn’t want to trouble you for your boxers. I don’t even have pads or tampons.” Your words tumble out in a rush, the embarrassment amplifying every second.

Yoongi sits up, running a hand through his disheveled hair. “Relax, it’s okay,” he says, his voice steady and reassuring. “You can take some of my boxers. I’m not stocked up on pads or tampons, but you can just use cloth that we wash.”

If you weren’t in a slight panic, maybe you’d notice how good he looks with bed hair and his bare torso, but instead, you rush out to the bathroom, still blushing from the unexpected intimacy and the rawness of the situation.

Yoongi joins you, a pair of his boxers in hand, as you futilely try to dry yourself with toilet paper. It’s no use.

“You should take a bath and wash off the blood,” he says, placing the boxers on the countertop. “I’ll take care of the bed.”

You nod, desperate to rid yourself of the blood, and without a second thought, you grab the edges of the black t-shirt you borrowed and pull it over your head, not caring that Yoongi is still there, probably watching you. His presence feels oddly comforting in this grim reality.

“Nice ass,” he smirks as you step into the shower. You can’t believe he finds you attractive in this state—blood running down your thighs. How can you really look appealing like that?

He’s either weird or into some strange shit.

You don’t reply, just shut the curtain fast, turning the showerhead on and letting the warm water caress your skin. The blood washes away, swirling down the drain as you clean yourself thoroughly. Damn, you really hate your period. Stepping out of the shower, you grab a towel and dry off. You spot some ripped cloth Yoongi left for you to use as makeshift pads.

Yoongi is incredibly kind, you realize, and it brings a rare smile to your lips. You dress with the makeshift pads stuck in his boxers and then walk out, covering your breasts, not wanting to wear the shirt you slept in. The warmth of the shower lingers, but the cold reality of the dystopian world waits just outside the bathroom door.

In the bedroom, Yoongi has replaced the bloodstained sheets with black ones, blending seamlessly with the oppressive gloom outside. As he turns to meet your gaze, you can’t help but blush, standing there before him semi-naked.

“Do you have a shirt I can borrow again?” you ask, your voice shaky with unsaid emotion and a confusing undercurrent of attraction.

He nods and rummages through his dresser, pulling out another black tee. You can’t help but wonder if black clothing is the only thing he owns, as if he’s trying to match the bleakness of the world.

“Thank you. I’ll just find my bra in my backpack,” you quip, the words sounding hollow as you step out next to the bed and search through your belongings.

“You don’t have to wear one, you know. You’re free to do whatever. If you’re more comfortable without one, it’s okay,” Yoongi says, his voice gentle yet firm. His words halt your movements. He’s right. You don’t really want to wear a bra; you’d only wear it because it’s the ‘proper’ thing to do. But he doesn’t seem to care about such trivialities, and comfort sounds far more appealing in this bleak reality.

You stop searching for the item and simply pull on the shirt he’s given you, the fabric soft against your skin.

As Yoongi gets ready with a shower and fresh clothes, you wander into the kitchen, your stomach growling. The dull ache in your abdomen also reminds you of your period, and you curse under your breath. Pain meds would be nice, but you have no idea where Yoongi keeps them. The thought of asking him feels like a small admission of vulnerability, something you’re not entirely comfortable with yet. But the pain is relentless, and in this world, there’s no room for stubborn pride.

Yoongi emerges from the bedroom, catching sight of you clutching your stomach. “Do you need painkillers?” he asks, his tone a mix of concern and practicality. He gestures to a cabinet. You nod, biting your lower lip as you move to find the pills, swallowing them with some water.

In the kitchen, you both work in a synchronized silence, preparing a simple meal. The quiet between you isn’t awkward; it’s a welcome respite from the chaos outside. As you eat, the distant sound of bombs punctuates the air, a grim reminder of the world beyond these walls.

Afterwards, you settle on the couch, the weight of the day pressing down on you. Yoongi sits beside you, the proximity offering a strange comfort. The silence stretches, filled with the unspoken understanding that, for now, survival is enough. The faint echoes of destruction fade into the background as you allow yourself a rare moment of peace, nestled in the fleeting safety of Yoongi’s makeshift sanctuary.

“Do you think we’re safe here?” you ask, turning to face Yoongi abruptly.

“For now, I think so,” he replies calmly, his gaze fixed on the flickering light from a nearby candle. The distant cacophony of destruction outside barely registers with him.

“You have a radio, right? Have you heard what’s going on?” Your curiosity is tinged with desperation. Three weeks of aimless wandering have left you clueless about the extent of the chaos—whether it’s confined to your city, your country, or if fleeing abroad could offer safety.

“Yeah, I do. It started with our country and the neighboring countries that were bombed, but now it’s escalated into a full-blown nuclear world war,” Yoongi answers, his voice tinged with resignation. “They say this might be the end of the world as we know it.”

Your throat tightens.

The end of the world.

Fuck.

It’s a phrase that carries weight beyond comprehension. You fall silent, nervously fidgeting with the hem of your shirt. Yoongi notices your unease and his hand gently encircles yours, a silent gesture of reassurance amidst the chaos engulfing the world outside.

“I understand you’re scared, and it’s okay. I’m scared too,” Yoongi’s voice cuts through the dimness, his eyes reflecting a glimmer of something indiscernible. His honesty offers a rare comfort amidst the uncertainty that permeates every corner of your existence. “But there’s not much we can do about it, except try to stay alive. Frankly, I’m happy you’re here. At least we have each other in this shitty world.”

His sincerity touches you in a way that words struggle to express. Despite the looming dread, his presence brings a semblance of solace. “I guess you’re right,” you muse softly, a fleeting smile gracing your lips. The mere thought of not facing this bleak reality alone lifts your spirits more than you’d expected. “I’m also happy to not be alone anymore.”

“Come here,” he invites, arms open, a silent gesture that beckons you to his side. Initially hesitant, you meet his gaze with a questioning stare before relenting, offering a gentle smile as you scoot closer. His arms envelop you, pulling you into a comforting embrace as you rest your head against his shoulder.

In this moment, amidst the chaos and uncertainty, you allow yourself the luxury of comfort. It doesn’t diminish your strength or resilience; it’s simply a reprieve, a respite from the relentless struggle for survival. You listen to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat, its reassuring cadence grounding you amidst your racing thoughts, reminding you that in this fractured world, even fleeting moments of solace are worth cherishing.

You’ve been grumpy for days—blame it on your period, though Yoongi has tirelessly tried to ease both your pain and your sullen mood. He’s taught you the art of baking sourdough bread, introduced you to new games, and even guided you through painting sessions, all while the world around you crumbles bit by bit. Each night, he holds you close, his warmth soothing both your body and your restless thoughts. If you denied feeling a spark between you, you’d be lying. It’s an unspoken tension that has simmered since you first met, and you’re certain he feels it too, though neither of you acknowledges it or acts upon it.

The reason for your inaction eludes you—is it fear of rejection, uncertainty about what this attraction truly means amidst the chaos, or simply the desperate need for companionship in a desolate world? You wrestle with these thoughts, wondering if your feelings are genuine or born out of circumstance. Perhaps that’s why you’ve held back, because deep down, you want to desire him for who he is, not just because he’s the only person around, and certainly not solely out of physical need.

You realize you’re nearing the end of your period because since yesterday, every little thing Yoongi does seems incredibly arousing. Folding laundry becomes a sensual act as you watch the muscles in his arms move, his focused demeanor igniting a fire within you. Even mundane actions like drinking water capture your attention, the movement of his throat and the bob of his Adam’s apple now irresistible to you. It’s clear you’ve got it bad, and you feel like you’re slowly losing your sanity.

Yet amidst this chaotic world, you’ve come to a profound realization: it’s not merely Yoongi’s availability that attracts you, but the essence of who he is.

“Do you want to get drunk?” he asks abruptly, pulling your attention away from your swirling thoughts after dinner. Both of you sit motionless, avoiding the cleanup that beckons. You blink at him, incredulous, but the idea holds a strange allure. The prospect of drowning the world’s chaos in alcohol for a fleeting moment seems oddly appealing.

“Yeah. What do you have?” you inquire, leaning forward across the table, eager to hear his answer.

“Only the hard stuff,” he replies with a smile, rising to clear both your plates.

You nearly choke on his words, a momentary blur conjured by your horny mind. The double meaning triggers a rush of both embarrassment and arousal, betraying your thoughts once again.

You assist in tidying up, your heart pounding inexplicably loud in your ears. There’s a nervous energy tingling through you, a strange excitement, as you settle onto the couch. Yoongi locates two mugs and heads to a well-stocked cabinet filled with an array of hard liquors. The sight leaves you momentarily impressed — the man is prepared for anything.

Returning with a bottle of whiskey, he notices your slight frown, likely recalling your distaste for its taste. Yet, any strong spirit would elicit a similar reaction from you. He sets down the bottle, retreats to the kitchen for ice, then returns to pour the amber liquid into your mugs.

“Thank you,” you quip, raising the mug to your lips and taking a cautious sip, grimacing at the harsh taste, eliciting a chuckle from Yoongi. He sips his whisky casually, as if it’s a ritual he’s performed countless times before — which, given his ease, might very well be the case. The amber liquid seems to suit him, and you strive to mimic his nonchalance, the flavor gradually becoming more palatable with each swallow. Eventually, a subtle warmth spreads through your body, a faint buzz that hints at relaxation in this tumultuous world.

He pours more whiskey into your mugs, and you drink, feeling the world blur around you, but Yoongi remains sharply focused in your gaze. His laughter cuts through the haze, accompanied by glimpses of his pearly white teeth and endearing pink gums, as he shares stories of his friends and their reckless escapades.

“Then Jungkook would leave the poor girl hanging,” he chuckles, a deep, resonant sound that brings a smile to your face and colors your cheeks.

“But that’s so bad,” you manage to reply between sips. Despite being thoroughly drunk by now, you relish Yoongi’s company and the friendship you now share. His presence makes the chaotic world feel momentarily lighter. You’re grateful he’s as intoxicated as you are, though you suspect he handles his liquor with more finesse.

Your eyelids flutter, cheeks warm as your gaze lingers on Yoongi, captivated by his sweetness and kindness amidst the dystopian chaos.

“What?” he chuckles softly, catching your prolonged stare.

“Your lips look really soft…” The words slip out, your filter completely gone, the confession hanging between you like an unspoken truth.

“Kiss me and find out,” he challenges, a glint of mischief in his eyes. His gaze, deep and compelling, draws you closer until your noses almost touch. With eyes closed, you lean in, meeting his lips in a gentle press. The warmth of his skin against yours, the taste of whiskey on his breath, sparks an unexpected thrill. Your hands find his, fingers intertwining, and a soft moan escapes your lips, lost in the softness and warmth of his kiss.

Your mind swirls, a dizzying mix of alcohol and the intoxicating scent of Yoongi enveloping you. You feel intoxicated by his presence, as if he’s a drug you never want to quit. Kissing him feels like an escape from the harsh reality of the world outside, a brief reprieve where everything is right.

But as you reluctantly pull back for a breath, both of you panting, his eyes are filled with desire and a knowing smirk. Without hesitation, he leans in again, kissing you fiercely. His urgency overwhelms you as he presses you down onto the couch, your hand instinctively gripping his neck, desire pooling in your stomach. You ache for him, craving more than just his touch.

He pulls away with a grunt, his voice rough with desire. “I really want to fuck you. But I want to do it sober.”

You groan softly, the heat of the moment tempered by the clarity of his words. Alcohol fuels your desire now, but you yearn for a clear-headed connection. You nod in agreement, and he pulls you up from the couch, his touch firm and purposeful.

“Doesn’t mean we can’t enjoy each other in bed in other ways,” he adds suggestively, leading you toward his bedroom. You follow eagerly, a wide smile spreading across your face, anticipation tingling in your veins.

In the bed, little else happens beyond kissing, the alcohol still clouding your senses. You manage to undress each other and slip under the covers; your bodies drawn together by an irresistible pull, seeking solace and warmth. More kisses follow, each one infused with a sense of fleeting bliss and exhaustion. Eventually, Yoongi spoons you as he always does, enveloping you in a cocoon of affection that feels more profound than anything you’ve experienced before. It’s a fleeting moment of respite amidst the chaos of the world crumbling outside.

When you wake, the throbbing pain in your head pulls you back to reality. You groan softly, slowly coming to, feeling Yoongi shifting beside you. His arms are still wrapped around you, in a comforting embrace.

His voice, thick with sleep, breaks the morning silence. “Morning. Do you have a headache too?”

You chuckle softly, nodding as you nuzzle your back into him, his warm, nearly bare body—save for his boxers—shielding his erection. “Yeah,” you groan, feeling the fatigue lingering, yet also acutely aware of Yoongi’s touch, his fingertips gently tracing over your bare skin.

“Want to take a shower together? Might help with the headache,” he suggests, his voice still husky with sleep. You nod, both of you slipping out of bed and padding into the bathroom together.

There, you shed your minimal clothing—a shirt of Yoongi’s for you, his boxers for him. It’s the first time you’re both seeing each other naked, a realization that hangs heavy in the air. For a moment, you simply gaze at each other, skin tingling with anticipation and desire, yet neither of you utter a word. You silently drink in each other’s presence, wondering if he finds you as appealing as you find him. The way he licks his lips with hunger suggests he does. You study his body: soft yet lean, pale skin a testament to a life spent indoors, away from the harsh realities of this broken world.

His dick appears soft, yet it pulses with undeniable arousal, sending warmth through your skin and stirring a primal desire between your legs. His appearance is captivating, his dark brown pubic hair adding to his allure, compelling you to join him in the shower.

He turns on the water, and as it sprays over both of you, a shared chuckle breaks the tension. “Do you want me to wash you?” he asks, his voice low and thick with need. You nod, craving the touch of his hands on your body.

Yoongi finds some minty soap, lathering it in his hands before placing them on your skin. Instantly, you relax, feeling like putty in his strong hands. His touch is soft yet firm as he moves from your neck down your back, to your ass, and then along your thighs and legs. His hands travel back up to your neck, then, standing behind you, they move to your front. He slowly caresses your breasts, teasing your nipples into stiff peaks, and continues down your stomach, past your crotch, and along the front of your legs. The intimacy and the warmth of his touch make you feel more alive than you have in a long time.

Shivers cascade down your spine, heat flaring not from the water, but from Yoongi’s touch. Your breathing quickens with each passing moment, his low and raspy grunts filling your ears.

Your knees grow weak, and a blissful moan of his name escapes your lips as your head falls back to rest against his collarbone. “Do you like it, babe?” he murmurs, his voice a deep, seductive rumble that sends electric tingles down your spine and a rush of arousal pooling between your legs.

Your body quivers, and you bite your lower lip in a futile attempt to contain your desire. Finally, you relent, panting, “Yes.”

His pet name for you sends your mind spinning with thoughts of him, intensifying your longing. You gather your courage and turn to face him, your eyes hooded with desire. He licks his lips teasingly, his gaze sweeping over your soapy, naked form with clear appreciation. His hands continue their journey, gliding over your skin, teasing and igniting every nerve.

“I want to wash you too,” you pant with a chuckle, grabbing the soap and lathering it in your hands. You place your fingers on his warm, sturdy chest, gliding over his pectorals and teasing his nipples, drawing a soft, whiny chuckle from him. Your hands travel down his stomach, deliberately bypassing his half erect cock, moving instead to his legs and down to his feet. Then, you make your way back up, sliding your hands over his back, down his shoulder blades, to his firm, round bum, which you squeeze with playful delight, before caressing down his thighs.

You’re now sitting, face to face with his erection, and you can’t help but stare. To you, cocks have always just been cocks, but his looks almost like a work of art. It grows longer with arousal, and you stutter at the thought that he isn’t even fully hard yet. He already looks so long and girthy, and you can’t wait to feel him inside you.

You glance up at him, his eyes dark as obsidian, his mouth slightly agape as he watches you. Your hands move to his dick, now free of soap. He releases a needy groan as you wrap your fingers around him, beginning to stroke gently.

He keens at your touch, his back pressing against the shower wall, panting as the warm water sprays over you both. The only sounds are his grunts and the rhythmic patter of water, so you keep going, pleasuring him with your hand, feeling the intoxicating power of his reaction to you.

“Fucking hell, seeing you like that on your knees… you’re making me weak,” he pants, his black hair plastered to his head, his face flushed with a deep blush.

You smile, relishing the effect you have on him, and it spurs you to stroke him faster. In a surprising move, you wrap your mouth around his cock. He grunts in pleasure, relishing the sensation of your warm, wet mouth enveloping him.

You breathe through your nose, setting a slow, deliberate pace. His hands find purchase in your wet hair, fingers gripping as his body trembles with each movement of your lips and tongue.

He pants and grunts your name, the sound echoing in the steamy shower, until he gently pulls you off. “It’s really good. But I don’t want to come yet.” His voice is ragged, filled with both desire and restraint.

You rise to your feet with a smile, capturing his lips in a deep, fervent kiss, moaning softly into his mouth. Your hands snake around his frame, pressing your body tightly against his. His cock presses against you, igniting a wildfire of need within you. Pulling back, you gaze into his eyes, the intensity of your desire mirrored in his dark, lust-filled gaze.

“Let me finish washing you up, and then we can continue this in bed,” he suggests with a teasing smile. You nod, shivering as his hands glide over your body, washing away the soap with gentle, deliberate touches.

Just as you’re about to step out of the shower, he grabs your hand, stopping you in your tracks. “I haven’t washed your hair yet,” he murmurs, his voice low and intimate.

Your stomach does a somersault, a horde of butterflies threatening to escape. No one has ever done this for you. No one. He steals your breath away with how soft and caring he is, while he still maintains his roughness.

You walk back to him, and he’s already ready with shampoo in his hand, lathering the liquid on your scalp. You moan in delight at its minty scent filling your nose, feeling and loving the drag of his fingers on your scalp, giving you a thorough clean. Then he washes the soap away and does the same with the conditioner focusing on the ends of your hair. When he’s done, you turn around, wrap your arms around his neck, and kiss him.

It’s wild to think that at first you were put off by his strong behavior—though he did point a rifle at your head, and killed a man in front of you—but this, this is truly something special you could never have imagined. Never had you thought you’d fall for this rugged, rough, but also very sweet and soft man.

You don’t say anything, but gesture for him to let you wash his hair too. You find the shampoo and gently give him a scalp massage, pulling moans of your name from his lips. You squirt a bit of conditioner into your hands and lather the ends of his hair. He closes his eyes while you work, and, damn, he looks so handsome, so serene like this.

You give him a chaste kiss. “I’m done.”

He chuckles, and you each do a final rinse, making sure no soapy residue is left. Then you both step out of the shower and grab towels to dry off. Playfulness bubbles between you, even though you’re both aroused, the tension almost tangible in the steamy bathroom.

“Do you have a condom? I’m not on the pill anymore, and I didn’t make it to my appointment to get an IUD inserted,” you ask, already debating whether you want to risk it. With no birth control, you run the risk of getting pregnant, and you don’t really want that, but you also really want to fuck him.

“I have condoms,” he says, opening a cabinet and pulling out a large box.

“Holy shit, 500 condoms! What are you going to do with those?” you ask, flabbergasted and laughing at the absurdity. You’ve never seen a man with so many condoms. You wonder if he has a lot of sex or what his deal is. Did he plan this?

“Before you ask, because I can already see those wheels inside your brain spinning, it was a good deal, and it was a long time ago, but they’re not expired yet,” he chuckles, the sound low and deep, shrugging slightly as he scratches his still wet hair.

You laugh, taking the box from his hands and walking naked into his bedroom. The absurdity of the situation doesn’t dampen your desire; if anything, it heightens it, making the moment feel even more surreal and intense. The world outside might be falling apart, but in this room, you both find a strange and intoxicating solace.

“Do you fuck a lot of women, Yoongi?” you ask teasingly, holding the box in your grasp.

“I haven’t had sex in over a year, so no,” he chuckles, though his tone darkens slightly.

“So what are you going to do with all these then?” you ask, grabbing a foil packet and watching as a few more tumble out.

“Hopefully fuck you many times,” he teases with a grunt, standing before you at the edge of the bed. “Would you like that? Fuck like rabbits until the world falls apart?”

Your heart races at his words, the raw intensity of his desire matching your own.

For a moment, you had completely forgotten the state of the world, but with him, it hardly matters. “Fuck yeah. Take me on the bed, then fuck me in the shower, the kitchen, the couch, the floor—I don’t care, just get inside me,” you rasp, sitting down on the bed.

He pushes you down, and you giggle as he hovers over you. You shimmy further up the bed, and now he’s eye level with your exposed pussy. He licks his lips teasingly, his gaze dark and hungry. “Can I taste you?” he asks, his voice a sultry whisper.

You giggle, spreading your legs wider to make space for him. “Yes, please,” you breathe, your voice catching. You don’t care how needy you sound; the anticipation electrifies your skin, your body already trembling with desire.

One of his hands grips your thigh, and you let out an airy moan as he squeezes, drawing closer. “You look so pretty,” he murmurs, his voice a sultry promise. “Can’t wait to taste you.”

The world outside fades away, replaced by the intensity of his gaze and the heat of his breath on your skin. As he leans in, your senses ignite, every nerve ending alight with a mixture of need and surrender.

He takes a moment to savor your pulsating pussy, still damp from the shower, small water droplets glistening on your skin. With both hands, he gently parts your folds, groaning at the sight of your exposed hole. With eager anticipation, he dives down, his lips latching directly onto your sensitive clit, making you grab the sheets in pure ecstasy. His tongue traces a path to oblivion, and for that moment, you’re consumed by him, and him alone.

His tongue is a perfect blend of warmth, softness, and roughness, unforgiving in the way it laps and sucks at your clit, sure to bring you maximum pleasure in a short amount of time. It’s insane how skilled he is with his mouth, and you arch into his expert touch, your fingers tangling in his long black locks instead of the sheets. The world outside is forgotten, replaced by the overwhelming sensation of his tongue and the undeniable connection between you.

“Yoongi... it’s so good,” you moan, feeling your pussy clench around nothing. “Fingers, please.”

You can feel him smirk against your folds, his mouth never leaving your clit as a finger teases your entrance. Slowly, he slides the first digit inside you, and you let out a needy moan, relishing the small stretch as he works you open.

“Like this?” he asks, momentarily pulling away to flash you a teasing grin, fully aware of the power he holds over you and how much he’s affecting you with his skilled tongue and probing finger. The anticipation and his relentless teasing send waves of pleasure coursing through you, leaving you breathless and craving more.

You bite your lip and nod, your body trembling as he begins to finger you with increasing vigor. It doesn’t take long before he adds a second finger, the slight stretch sending jolts of pleasure through your core. Your fingers clench in his hair, your legs closing around his head as you edge closer to your orgasm.

“I’m gonna come,” you pant, tugging at his hair, the desperation in your voice driving him to suck harder on your clit and thrust his fingers faster. The intense rhythm of his movements sends you spiraling, each stroke and flick of his tongue bringing you closer to the edge.

Sucking noises fill the room, amplifying your sense of being utterly consumed by bliss. Your heart races, each beat echoing in your ears as you gasp and moan his name, the sound raw and desperate. The coil inside you finally snaps, and you clench around his fingers, your release surging through you like a tidal wave.

“Yoongi…,” you moan, your body vibrating with intense pleasure, tingles cascading over your skin. Your clit throbs with oversensitivity under the relentless ministrations of his tongue. He pulls away, smirking at you with lips glistening with your essence, the early morning sun filtering through the curtains and catching on the wet sheen.

In your bliss, you barely register that it’s the first time you’ve seen sunlight in weeks. The world outside may be changing, but in this moment, nothing else matters but Yoongi and the ecstasy he’s brought you.

"You taste so good. Are you ready for my cock, babe?" he smirks, his tongue darting out to lick his lips, savoring your essence.

“Yes, please, fuck me now. I want you and your dick,” you pant, your voice laced with need. You’ve been waiting for this moment for days, finally free from your period. Not that it would have stopped you, but you’ve stained the poor guy’s sheets enough already.

Yoongi moves closer, tearing open the foil packet and pulling out a condom. He puts it on with practiced ease, then pushes your legs further apart, kneeling in front of you. He spits on his cock, teasing it with his hand, and the sight sends a shiver down your spine. He’s finally going to enter you, filling you completely, and the anticipation is almost unbearable.

“Ready?” he asks, his voice low and filled with desire. You nod eagerly, your body trembling with anticipation.

“You’re so beautiful, do you know that?” he whispers, his voice thick with emotion. One of his hands squeezes your thigh, and you feel the head of his cock teasing your waiting entrance.

No one has ever called you beautiful before, and you’re momentarily speechless. Instead, you give him a shy smile, your face heating with a blush.

Slowly, he begins to enter you, and you moan at the delicious stretch as he pushes in deeper. Yoongi grunts, “Shit. You’re so tight!” The comment makes you chuckle, inadvertently tightening your walls around him.

“Fuck. Don’t do that yet. I’m seriously gonna come any minute if you clench like that.” You stop laughing, trying to steady yourself, focusing on relaxing your inner muscles to give him space.

Finally, he bottoms out, fully sheathed inside you. “Damn. You’re really squeezing my dick. I’d forgotten what this feels like,” he gasps, his voice filled with pleasure and awe.

“Hopefully it’s good?” you ask breathlessly, your arms reaching to hold your thighs and press them down to your stomach, giving him even deeper access.

“Fuck, yeah. It’s amazing. You’re amazing,” he groans, smiling as he begins to pull out only to thrust back inside you, eliciting a moan of pure pleasure from your lips.

“You too, Yoongi, you’re amazing,” you murmur, biting your lip, reveling in the sensation of his thrusts, his balls slapping against your pussy with each powerful movement.

He leans down, your legs falling to the side, and captures your lips in a heated kiss while continuing to thrust into you. Your tongues dance together, and you taste yourself on his lips. He groans into your mouth, the sound driving your lust higher, and you teasingly bite his lip.

He kisses you again, then pulls away to trail kisses down your throat, over your collarbones. The intimacy of the moment strikes you, making you realize how deeply connected you feel with him. You’re consumed by this, by whatever it is that you and Yoongi have right now, and it feels overwhelmingly perfect.

His lips trace a path down to your breasts, latching onto a nipple and teasing it stiff with expert flicks of his tongue. He sucks hard while his other hand finds your other nipple, rolling and tugging it between his fingers. You writhe beneath him, moaning uncontrollably as waves of pleasure surge through you. Your hands lie flat beside you, completely surrendered to his touch.

“Fuck—Yoongi! Do you… do you want me to ride you?” you gasp, your voice choked with pleasure.

“You want to?” he asks, his mouth leaving your breast to meet your gaze, eyes dark with desire.

“Yes, otherwise I wouldn’t ask,” you chuckle breathlessly, pushing him away gently. He gives you his hand, helping you up from the bed. He lies down, his cock hard and glistening with your juices, ready for you. You crawl over to him and straddle him with vigor, your stomach burning with lust. Grabbing his cock, you guide it to your entrance and then slowly sink down, letting him fill you completely.

“Ah, fuck. It’s so good!” you moan, your body shuddering with pleasure as you begin to ride him, each movement bringing you closer to ecstasy.

When you look down, his eyes shine with awe and raw arousal, his hands gripping your hips as you begin to set a steady pace.

“Fuck, you look so good like this,” he rasps, your name escaping his lips in a passionate grunt.

“I always look good,” you chuckle, feeling bold and safe in his arms, reveling in the rare self-praise.

“Shit. Confidence looks sexy on you,” he moans, his hands sliding from your hips up to your breasts, fondling them with a firm, appreciative touch.

You smile back, your thighs working overtime to bounce on him, hands braced against his chest. You lean down to kiss him, pulling away just enough to whisper, “Yoongi, I’m close again. Are you close too?”

He grunts, his cock twitching inside you, a clear sign of his impending release. “Yeah, I’m close. I’m surprised I’ve lasted this long.”

“Will you please touch my clit?” you ask, your eyes hooded with lust. His fingers land on your clit, working circles, sending electric pulses through your still-sensitive nerves.

“Shit,” you moan, followed by his name, as your body clenches and you release fluid around his cock, stopping your movements and panting for air.

“You did so good. Let me take over now, ‘kay?” he asks, biting his lip. You nod, feeling blissfully tired. His hands travel back to your hips, gripping you firmly as he begins to thrust up into you. His pace is fast and hard, hitting your already sensitive g-spot, making you cry out in both pain and pleasure, your walls fluttering around him.

“Fuck,” is all he says as he comes into the condom, filling it with his warm release. You scream his name and shake, slumping down onto his chest.

“Are you okay?” he asks, gently nudging your cheek, feeling the tears there and brushing them away.

Out of breath, you manage to say, “Yeah. I think I came again.”

He chuckles, stroking your hair as he hugs you close. You linger in the moment, savoring the intimacy—him still inside you, albeit softening. It’s blissful. The safety he provides, his minty scent, the warmth of his embrace. You feel cherished and secure in his arms, wishing you could stay like this forever.

“Damn. I feel so tired now, but at least I don’t have a headache anymore,” you chuckle, your head resting on his chest, feeling the rapid beat of his heart gradually syncing with yours.

“Me too,” he laughs, the sound resonating through his chest, filling you with warmth.

“Maybe we should just stay like this until you get hard again, and we can go for another round,” you suggest, your fingers tracing lazy circles on his warm skin.

“You’d like that, huh?” he teases, his hands threading through your hair.

“Yeah,” you affirm, feeling overwhelmed by his presence yet craving more of it.

Safe to say, you remain nestled together, igniting another round and many more throughout the day. You’re amazed at Yoongi’s stamina, though he did mention something about his balls aching, so as night falls, you settle into a comfortable embrace in bed.

In the days that follow, you fuck on every imaginable surface, putting those 500 condoms to good use.

One day, the sun that had graced your windows for weeks disappears, replaced by an eerie gray sky again. The familiar sound of something flying in the air makes you shiver and crouch down in fear.

“What’s wrong?” Yoongi asks, his face etched with concern. The fear in your eyes tells him something’s terribly wrong.

“Bombs,” you mutter. As the words leave your lips, the first explosion shatters the ground nearby. You scream, terror coursing through you. Not this again. You thought you’d grown used to it, the bombings having become sporadic and distant. But now, they’re hitting too close to home.

Yoongi rushes to the window and peers outside, his expression tense. “It’s close. We can’t stay here. We need to leave,” he says, urgency lacing his voice.

Your eyes widen in fear and panic. “What do you mean? Leave?”

“Yeah. It’s not safe to stay here anymore. We can take the truck, try and stay alive. It’s better than staying here and dying,” he says, already moving about, pulling out pre-packed bags.

“You have ‘to go’ bags ready?” you ask, staring at him in disbelief.

“Yeah. I didn’t think I’d have time to pack anything in a rush,” he explains, four bags already laying at your feet. “There’s food, water, clothes, and a medical kit,” he says, then walks up to you, looking you in the eyes. “It’s going to be alright, okay? You’re safe with me.”

You gulp and nod, the sound of another explosion reverberates through the walls, shaking the ground beneath you, fear propelling you into action. Grabbing two of the bags, you follow Yoongi outside to the truck.

The world outside looks bleak. Thick clouds of smoke and ash cover the horizon, turning everything gray. Trees are falling, and in the distance, buildings blaze with fire. The scene mirrors the devastation of your hometown—bombed, ruined, and left you with nowhere to go. Now, you wonder, where will you go?

Your ears ring, and your head spins. Your breaths come quick and shallow as the acrid smell of fire, death, and destruction fills the air. You’re tired of it, longing for the world you once knew. But that world is gone, replaced by this new reality of chaos.

You follow him to the truck, glancing at Yoongi. Despite everything, you find solace in his presence. This new life may be filled with death and destruction, but with Yoongi by your side, you know you have a fighting chance.

“Hurry. We need to grab more supplies from the shed,” Yoongi urges, pulling you along after you’ve tossed the bags into the truck.

Inside the shed, Yoongi opens a large box, revealing an arsenal of firearms stashed from top to bottom. Your mouth falls open in disbelief. “You have more than just one rifle?”

He chuckles, the sound tense against the backdrop of imminent danger. His movements are swift and precise. “Yeah. Like you guessed, I was prepared for this.”

You gulp, the gravity of the situation sinking in. You’ve never met anyone like Yoongi—someone so prepared for the worst, for the end of the world. Someone ready to fight for his life, and now, for yours too.

He hands you something, and when you look down, you realize it’s a knife, sheathed in worn leather. “Why are you giving me this?”

“To defend yourself. You said you could handle yourself, so use this,” he replies, his shoulders shrugging as he stuffs a variety of guns into a backpack, slinging his rifle over his shoulder as if it’s just another day in the office.

“Yeah— with my bare hands. I’ve never used a knife before, let alone a gun,” you stammer, the weight of the situation pressing down on you. The world has become so twisted that now you need to carry a weapon just to stay alive.

“I don’t care. I’ll do my best to protect you, but if something happens, you need to be able to protect yourself,” he says, his voice firm but his eyes soft. He hands you a leather harness, and you look at him with wide, questioning eyes.

“Put this on, so you can holster a gun and the knife,” he says, motioning for you to turn around as he helps you secure the leather harness.

“You make it sound like it’s zombies out there,” you gulp, the gravity of the situation hitting you hard. Everything is escalating again, and you know you need to leave—fast.

“Babe, it might as well be zombies. It’s either them or us.”

You freeze for a moment—those words, ‘them or us’ send a chill down your spine. Even though it makes you feel sick, you know he’s right. If you want to survive, you might have to make some very uncomfortable decisions. You clench your hands, fastening the leather harness around your shoulder, then holster the knife and the small gun Yoongi has given you. You pray you never have to use it, but if it comes down to it, you know it will always be you and Yoongi before anyone else.

Yoongi hurriedly grabs more supplies from the box, stuffing them into his backpack and securing them to the belt he now wears. You notice an additional knife, a smaller multi-tool, flashlights, batteries, and finally, he hauls canisters of fuel into the truck’s bed.

“Come on, let’s get going,” he urges, darting around the vehicle. You yank open the passenger door, heart pounding, and jump in. Yoongi climbs in, turns the key in the ignition, and the truck roars to life.

As Yoongi reverses out of the driveway, a low-flying plane thunders overhead. You glance out the window just in time to see a bomb drop. The next moment, your ears ring painfully as your home for the past months disintegrates in a fiery explosion. Plywood, drywall, banisters, and concrete fly through the air, and you scream, tears streaming down your face.

Yoongi remains unfazed, his focus unbroken as he speeds down the main road, leaving the obliterated remains of the house behind.

From the window, you watch in horror as the house disintegrates, consumed by smoldering flames. The structure collapses, reduced to rubble in seconds. Gulping, you feel your body tense and your mind race, barely processing the close call.

“Try to take deep breaths,” Yoongi advises, snapping you out of your spiraling thoughts. You hadn’t even noticed you were on the verge of hyperventilating. Placing a trembling hand on your chest, you focus on its rise and fall—proof that you’re still alive. Everything will be fine once you escape this nightmare, you tell yourself. Everything will be fine. But no amount of positive thinking can mask the grim and harsh reality. Tears blur your vision as you cry, the enormity of your new world crashing down around you.

“Hey, it’s okay,” Yoongi says, his hand landing on yours, grounding you. It always does. You’ve only known Yoongi for a few months—maybe half a year—but time has become a strange, elastic concept since the bombings started. Despite the short duration, you’ve grown dependent on him, on the safety he provides. The thought of losing him, like you lost your friends, terrifies you.

“I just hope we make it out,” you choke out between sobs, your fists clenching and unclenching. You know you need to calm down; fear won’t help you now. But the prickling sensation of dread crawling under your skin feels all too real, a constant reminder of the uncertain future and the precariousness of your life.

His grip tightens, offering a small but significant comfort. “We will,” he assures you, his voice steady despite the chaos. “I promise.”

The landscape outside the truck is almost unrecognizable. The once lush green trees and bushes are now gone, replaced by gray ashes and fire. Everything is barren, dying.

Bombs continue to drop around you, each explosion sending a shiver down your spine. A lump forms in your throat, but you’re thankful for the truck’s metal shell that muffles the sounds of chaos. You don’t have to hear the people dying, unlike back in the city where the screams still haunt your nightmares.

The road is bumpy, marred by craters and debris, a cruel reminder of the unrelenting reality of your new life. Each jolt and rattle of the truck underscores the harshness of this world, a stark contrast to the life you once knew.

“If anybody comes up to us, shoot first and ask questions later. Got it?” Yoongi’s voice is stern, his grip on the steering wheel like a vice. You gulp and turn your head towards him. “What?” you ask in disbelief. You don’t want to shoot anyone. Your hand finds the gun holstered in your harness. You really don’t want to.

“You don’t know what people want. They might want to kill you. Just shoot them in the leg so they can’t walk,” he explains, his focus sharp on navigating the wreckage of the desolate road. The once-bustling streets are eerily empty, a haunting silence hanging in the air.

You think about his words for a moment, trying to rationalize. Shooting someone in the leg isn’t as bad as killing them, right? It’s a compromise you can live with, or so you hope.

“I really hate this,” you groan, your tears subsiding. Your heart still races, but you force yourself to focus on Yoongi, his voice, and the urgency of getting the hell out of this town. The reality of your situation presses down on you, heavy and suffocating, but you know you have to keep moving forward.

“Where are we going?” you ask, changing the subject. You don’t want to think about killing someone, or shooting them. Better think about something else.

“One of my friends’ places, maybe we can stay there,” Yoongi says, his voice thick with emotion. You can tell he’s worried about his friend—wondering if they’re okay or not.

“Jungkook. Remember I told you about him?” he asks, a fleeting smile crossing his lips. It’s a melancholy smile, tinged with fear and uncertainty.

You nod, gripping the door handle as the terrain grows rougher. The world outside the window is unrecognizable, a desolate wasteland of gray ash and smoldering fires. The once lush and vibrant landscape is now barren, dying, the remnants of civilization crumbling away.

Time blurs as you drive, the hours indistinguishable from one another. Eventually, you spot the outlines of houses on the horizon, but they are no longer standing. They’re crumbled and reduced to rubble, much like Yoongi’s home. The sight tightens your throat with dread, an eerie premonition of what might await you at Jungkook’s place. Your heart breaks for Yoongi, for the fragile hope he clings to in this devastated world.

Yoongi stops the car in front of the destroyed house and jumps out of the truck. His face is unreadable, but you catch glimpses of sadness and anger as he clenches his fists and frowns, taking in the wreckage.

You get out too and join him, your throat and heart tightening at the sight. You scan the ruins for any sign of his friend but find no one. You’re unsure if that’s a good thing or not. “Maybe he made it out?” you suggest, your voice meek and filled with sadness as memories of losing your own friends flood back, and tears well up in your eyes.

“Maybe,” Yoongi responds blankly. You reach out and grab his hand, lacing your fingers with his, offering the support and comfort he’s given you so many times before.

“It’s going to be okay,” you reassure him, slowly beginning to believe your own words. With Yoongi by your side, you feel like you might actually have a fighting chance in this godforsaken world.

“Thank you,” he whispers, leaning into you. The ashy air caresses your cheek as you both turn back to the truck.

You get in and drive off, the road ahead uncertain, but the bond between you stronger than ever. You’re in search of a place to stay, a place to escape this relentless dystopia, and for the first time, you feel a glimmer of hope.

It feels like you’ve been driving forever, the sky a perpetual twilight, offering no clue to the hour. You push through, finally finding a piece of nature that remains green, untouched by the devastation. Yoongi stops the car and begins unloading the bags, including some you hadn’t noticed before.

“You’ve got a tent too?” you ask in disbelief. By now, you shouldn’t be surprised by his preparedness, but each new revelation still catches you off guard.

“Yeah. We can also sleep in the truck though,” he replies, his eyes scanning the area for any sign of danger.

“The tent is fine. But do you think we can keep warm?” you wonder aloud, unsure of how cold the night might get. You can’t even recall what month it is—April, May? The days and weeks blur together in this endless struggle.

“Yeah, we’ll just huddle together,” he assures you. His confidence is comforting, and you believe him. He sets up the tent with practiced ease, pulling out a thin mattress. After a small meal, exhaustion overtakes both of you, and you head into the tent. Yoongi wraps his arms around you, his body warmth making you feel safe and secure.

Despite your weariness, you struggle to fall asleep, feeling restless. Sensing this, Yoongi soothes you with his hands, leading to you making love, feeling the spark between you, so vital in this broken world, helps you finally drift off to sleep, your bodies intertwined, finding solace and unity in each other amidst the chaos.

In the morning, you think, the air is thick with smoke, small rays of sunlight filtering through the dense clouds above. You stretch and yawn, watching as Yoongi builds a fire, the two of you eating a small meal to regain some energy. The warmth of the fire and his presence beside you offer a fleeting comfort in the bleakness of the world. As you kiss, savoring each other’s company, the air feels warmer than you expected, a small reprieve in the otherwise harsh landscape.

As you sit there, a sense of unease washes over you. The hairs on your arms stand on end, and you lift your head from Yoongi’s shoulder, scanning the area for any signs of danger. The rustling in the nearby bushes makes your heart race, but you see nothing.

“What’s wrong?” Yoongi asks, pulling you tighter against him.

“I just feel like we’re being watched…,” you whisper, your voice barely audible, as if afraid the very air might betray you.

“Maybe we shouldn’t have made the fire,” he replies, his voice tense. “It gives away our position.” He drags his feet through the dirt, smothering the fire with soil and stones.

“Just to be safe, I think we should move,” he suggests, standing up and pulling you with him. His grip on your hand is firm, reassuring.

You nod, the weight of the situation sinking in. Better to be cautious than caught off guard. The world around you is hostile, every shadow a potential threat. Together, you gather your things and move on, seeking safety in an uncertain future.

Then you get back on the road. You’ve traveled so far out that you have no idea where you are, but you hope you’ve left behind whatever presence you felt before. You turn to Yoongi, smiling at him, feeling a glimmer of safety and happiness despite the bleakness of your life. He’s your light, keeping you hopeful in this desolate world.

Suddenly, a harsh sound pierces the air, followed by a deafening explosion. The earth shatters next to the truck, sending it spiraling into the air. You scream, clutching onto anything you can, as the vehicle flips and lands on its roof. Your seatbelt catches you, holding you in place as the world turns upside down. The ringing in your ears is unbearable, distorting your voice as you try to speak. “Yoongi—are you okay?” you manage to choke out.

He grunts, “I’m okay. What about you?”

“I’m fine,” you pant, feeling the blood rush to your head. The urgency to escape floods your senses.

Yoongi frees himself from his seatbelt and falls to the ground with a thud, groaning in pain. Despite the agony, he pushes through, helping you free yourself and dragging you out of the wreckage. Both of you are alive, miraculously. The injuries seem minimal—Yoongi’s knuckles are bleeding, but that’s about it. You look around at the desolate landscape, the truck lying on its roof, shattered glass everywhere, and you realize just how close you came to losing everything. But as long as you’re together, you have a fighting chance in this godforsaken world.

“Fucking hell, my head is spinning,” Yoongi grunts, wincing in pain.

You suggest grabbing the bags from the wrecked truck, finding some painkillers for both of you, and treating his bruises. He nods, his eyes scanning the desolate surroundings. “We should ditch the truck and move on by foot,” he says, standing up and looking toward a large hill on the horizon. “Maybe we can make it up there?”

“Good idea,” you agree. You grab the bags, your weapons, and, hand in hand, you begin navigating the rough terrain. The landscape is a mix of green patches and dying vegetation, the minimal sunlight choking out what little life remains. Without photosynthesis, you wonder how anything will survive.

You walk until exhaustion sets in, reminding you of the long trek you made before meeting Yoongi. Weary, you decide to make camp, forgoing a fire pit this time. Setting up the tent, you collapse into sleep, the days and nights blending together under the perpetual gray sky.

One morning, after what feels like endless walking, you attempt to scale the hill. It looms vast and imposing, perhaps more of a mountain than a hill. As you drag your tired bodies up the elevated trail, Yoongi breaks the silence. “Do you also feel like we’re being followed?”

You nod, a shiver running down your spine. You’ve felt the presence since yesterday, a constant shadow lurking at the edges of your perception. But what can you do until it reveals itself?

“Keep your hand close to your gun and knife, okay?” Yoongi instructs, his voice tense. He remains on guard, eyes darting around as you continue your climb. You don’t have the energy to chase shadows, especially when survival depends on reaching the top of this mountain hill. The weight of the unknown presses down on you, every step a reminder of the perilous world you now inhabit.

The air grows thinner and colder as you ascend, prompting you to make camp again. You eat and attempt to sleep, though you’re always alert, wary of whatever or whoever is following you. Despite the tension, you manage a light sleep.

In the morning, you stretch your body and gently kiss Yoongi awake, then strap on your leather harness and weapons. As you step out of the tent to grab something to eat, your blood runs cold. A man is rummaging through your supplies, his eyes wild with hunger. He turns, and your gaze locks with his.

Panic grips you.

Yoongi emerges from the tent, instantly assessing the situation. His hand flies to the gun in his jeans pocket, drawing it with practiced speed as he steps beside you. The man looks between you and Yoongi, unafraid. He’s a mess, dirtied by war and bombs, eyes red and feral. For a fleeting second, you wonder if he’s even human.

“Touch her and die,” Yoongi warns, his voice cold and venomous.

The man charges at you, and for a moment, you freeze, memories of a similar encounter at Yoongi’s house flooding your mind. But this time, your instincts kick in. Your hand finds the gun, you draw it, and aim at the stranger’s leg. Heart pounding, you clench your teeth, close your eyes, and pull the trigger.

A scream rips through the air.

Yoongi is at your side in an instant, taking the gun from your trembling hands. The stranger falls to the ground, clutching his thigh as blood oozes from the wound. You pant furiously—you did that. You hurt someone. The realization makes you feel sick.

“You just defended yourself. It’s okay,” Yoongi reassures, patting soothing circles on your back.

You nod, trying to believe him. You didn’t kill the stranger; you defended yourself. It’s a grim comfort in this bleak reality, but it’s something.

“What should we do about him?” you ask, still panting, your body tingling with the aftershocks of adrenaline.

“Just leave him,” Yoongi replies with a shrug, quickly gathering your things and dismantling the camp. The stranger’s screams of pain echo through the air, but Yoongi shows no mercy, just cold pragmatism. You’re grateful he doesn’t kill the man outright, though you know he will likely die anyway.

You move on, leaving the wounded stranger behind to fend for himself. Deciding against climbing all the way up the mountain to avoid the bitter cold, you continue your journey. Time becomes a blur of setting up and breaking camp, bombs still scattering the ground around you, but you keep pushing forward, driven by the hope of escaping this nightmare.

Eventually, you find a small hill overlooking the sea. The view is hauntingly beautiful—a stark contrast to the desolation around you. “Do you think we could swim to safety?” you ask, staring at the sparkling blue water, a surreal contrast to the barren landscape.

Yoongi chuckles darkly. “I think we’d die of exhaustion and drown before making it to another country or island.”

“We’re probably gonna die of radiation anyway now,” you spit, setting your bags down on the ashy ground. The sea, still blue and inviting, feels like a cruel joke.

“Yeah, we might feel some radiation effects in a few years, if we’re alive by then,” Yoongi says, putting his bags down too.

You both sit in silence, the weight of your predicament settling in. The world as you knew it is gone, replaced by a harsh, unrelenting reality. But for now, you have each other, and that fragile connection gives you the strength to carry on.

For a moment, you just stare at each other, surrounded by a world that has fallen apart, crumbled into something unrecognizable, gray, and dead. But he’s alive, and so are you. You’ve made it this far, and it makes your heart pound. Your lips crash into his—hungry for his touch, for the feeling of being alive, for safety.

The kiss ignites into a frenzy of lustful touches as you strip, indifferent to the fact that you’re outside—there’s no one else around anyway. You kiss him deeply, touching him like it’s the last time. The world is ending, and your desperation fuels your desire. You grip his hard cock, your mouth finding him, sucking, kissing, pleasing until he stops you with a growl, saying he wants to be inside you. You want that too. Laying down on the ground, you welcome him into your warm walls like you’ve done many times before. He knows how to please you, his touches and kisses driving you wild.

You want this moment to last forever, but you’re acutely aware of the uncertainty of your future. You don’t know if you’ll be alive tomorrow, next week, or next month or even in a year. But you know Yoongi, and he grounds you.

With him, it’s okay if the world is ending—as long as you have him.

Bombs continue to fall in the distance, and tears escape your eyes, a bittersweet reminder of your probable fate. But at least you have Yoongi by your side. Your breaths mingle, your hands lace together, and he kisses your neck, making love to you like it’s the last time.

Time on this earth feels borrowed. You lose yourself in his touch, in his kisses, feeling breathless and alive despite the encroaching darkness.

→ Author’s note(2): hi! Since I posted the teaser I’ve been really stressed, lol. Because I felt so pressured by your expectations, so I really hope that this has turned out well 🥹 I love that so many people are interested in the story, so I just hope I did it justice! Please let me know? Again, this is based on my very real fears, but mingled with fiction. I tried my best to make an open ending, so you’re free to interpret it as you please (this is very intentional because of something I might explain later, lol). Anyway, I really hope you enjoyed it. I had my husband beta-ing it, and he fixed at lot of my poor gramma, got flustered by the smut and said it was too descriptive, and it said this wasn’t as detailed as I usually write smut 🤣 Anyway, he said he wanted more ‘survival’ with oc and Yoongi— and I completely agree. But I don’t have any more words, and I’m honestly afraid to make it too much into ‘The Last of Us’ or something else I watched (seeing as I’m not really familiar with writing apocalyptic stories, lol). But I hope it was still okay, at least 🥹

What did you think?? 💜

→ Taglist: @idkjustlovingbts @lovelgirl22 @gimeow @sweeetas @viankiss @goldietigers294 @this-most-assuredly-counts @futuristicenemychaos @funnygirls-things @ysljoon @livingformintyoongi @as-hs-blog @urmomluvsrose @yasmineixyjay @purpleheartsandarock1 @alextgef @coree730 @wobblewobble822 @coldcoffee2121 @zzoguri

650 notes · View notes

helenazbmrskai · 5 months ago

Text

Mating Act (m)

Title [Mating Act]

Pairing [Alien! Yoongi x Human Slave! Reader]

Genre [Alien AU, Sci-fi, Smut, Angst, Fluff]

Summary [You make two choices that change your life entirely. First, you make a choice when you decide to save a family and get kidnapped instead of them, the second you make is when you force imprinting on an alien that takes one wife in his life which you decide will be only you.]

Words [5,2k]

Warnings [General warnings: slavery, bad treatment, dystopia setting, human trafficking, Sexual content: playful neck grabbing, teasing, sexual tension, first-time sex, dirty talk, manhandling, mention of human and wife a lot, alien anatomy (black ink, coldness and a very hard, big and cold dick also magic saliva), fingering, oral (f and m), unprotected sex, belly bulge, size kink, positions (cock riding, doggy, missionary), y/n cries that is how good she feels, overstimulation, buckets of cum, creampie(s), begging, blow job, possessive alien yoongi]

Rating [+18]

A/N: I’m very excited to share this with you guys since I think this would be a great successor to my previous work that many of you liked called “Mating Season” It’s kind of the same but entirely different. This story is in the same universe but it takes place before mating season!

Masterlist //

Your scrunched eyes open slowly, first, you only see a blinding light your ears focus on the cracking sound of neon. It’s cold and you’re not wearing enough clothes for the cool temperature. It takes a few seconds for your senses to return to you and then you can fixate on your surroundings, it’s outdoors and midday as you see the sun going up high in the purplish blue sky.

It seemed that by the time you were unconscious, you arrived at the slave trading planet. The light grey iron bars are cold to the touch and it’s extremely noisy out there. Different species roam the cells it might be hundreds if not thousands of cells lined up for sale, and you’re one of them: a rare find, a human.

Your introduction is displayed for the buyers in numerous languages. There are a few that you speak so you can read it with ease: female human, breedable, young. You hate how the aliens size you up some even get threateningly close until you back up. They openly talk about you thinking that you can’t understand a single thing. Humans are stupid and weak. You’re a race that is almost at extinction. Only a few of you are left and your life expectancy is around eighty years old, it’s short compared to others but all too long for you humans. You managed to survive this long which is a miracle on its own. How pathetic of you to get caught in international body trafficking because you decided to save someone. At least you hope that the family you tried to protect is safe somewhere else you don’t have anything left to protect so you accept your faith.

Deep in your thoughts, you thought you lost all faith in survival. You don’t have anything to go back to but you’re still unable to give up.

You still don’t want to die.

Your defiant gaze meets with a young male. Shorter than his friends he has bland black hair with the same eyes that almost look human. You know that he’s not one of your own though he speaks a different language with his friends and has weird marking on his skin that looks exotic in your eyes.

“Do you like her?” A man next to him stops to read your description. They almost look sorry for you as they see you behind the cell.

“No.” Black hair says without giving it a second. His eyes bore into yours and when he decides to stop looking at you you make a second split decision. You’re going to choose him. Your hands grip the bars as you get as close to him as you can. It’s been a long time since you used that language but you have to try.

“Take me.” They can clearly understand your words, you speak their language. You point at the black-haired man.

“Oh, it seems to like you Yoongi.” A friendly voice slaps him on the shoulders. They talk animatedly among each other finding you intriguing. Books say that the human race is stupid and weak but you look none of those things. His friends encourage Yoongi to get closer to you and for once you don’t step back as he approaches after a little push in your direction. His hands grab onto the bars before he can regain his posture and you use that opportunity to put your hands on his. His hand is cold to the touch the cold blue veins on his hands are in contrast to his pale white skin.

“Yoongi.” You call out the word you heard them say that you think might be his name.

“We’re running out of time. Let’s take her and leave.” A man speaks up his eyes fixated on the holo panel that shows the time and some kind of message. He has some weird-looking glass in his eyes, you think he might be the captain of the ship. You’ve seen that type of accessory somewhere before.

“I didn’t say I will buy it.” Yoongi pulls his hand away like you dirtied him. You rack your brain on how to make him take you with him. Black hair and black eyes, cool skin and vine-like black ink make you think of a race. You loved to read books this is how you taught yourself a few of those languages and you remember reading about his species once. This decision might take you closer to your end but it will be better than rotting in this place so you grab his clothes and smash your lips on his through the tiny gap between the bars.

A race that takes one wife in his lifetime. You’re going to bet on that.

Your tongue forcefully enters his mouth using his surprise against him to successfully imprint your taste on him. After his mind catches up he pushes you away so hard that you land on your butt. His eyes almost look feral as he watches you, he’s very angry but closes his eyes to push the feeling down.

“Get up.” You haul yourself up from the floor getting close to him despite his hard gaze on you. You don’t flinch when he grabs your hair and pulls you close so that your faces are inches away from each other.

“You want to come, then come.” It’s not a calm and collected sentence that he whispers so close to you. It sounds like a threat but you smile and nod. Even if he hates you he has an obligation to you. With that kiss you sealed your fate with his, you’re his. His one and only human wife for all eternity.

Your back collides with the wall behind you as soon as you see your kidnapper his torture that you had to endure is replaying in the forefront of your mind as he fiddles with the cell keys your hostility is not lost on the young men that wait for your release. Yoongi paid for you in digital cash don’t have more time to waste.

He intends to take you with him so he asks for the ownership process to be sped up.

The kidnapper yanks you out of the cell not caring about how you almost land on your face through the force he uses. Yoongi catches you easily lifting you in his arms. You forced him into accepting you but he still does his job of protecting you. His glare is not meant for you this time as he looks displeased by your idle treatment right in front of him. His big hands are curled around you in pretence protection. You must be crazy because you actually relax in his secure hold.

“Hi.” One of his friends gets your attention as he waves. He looks at you with curious eyes he seems like he has a lot of questions for you.

“Hello.” You reply in a hoarse voice. You don’t remember the last time you ate or drank something.

“What’s your name? I’m Hoseok.” He points at you and then at himself. It’s nice of him to talk slowly so you have time to interpret his words. No one else speaks to you as you go. Probably on their way to their ship since one of them implied some important business. Yoongi doesn’t look at you but his hands are firm around you.

“Y/N.”

“Your name is weird.” Hoseok slaps his friend but you don’t take it in the wrong way. Of course, for them, a human name will sound weird.

“You’re being rude Taehyung.” Hoseok scolds the other guy before he turns back to you swaying in Yoongi’s arms. “I think your name is pretty and you speak our language pretty well. How did you learn it? On Earth?”

You shake your head. If you think about your home planet your heart starts aching. “No. I taught myself reading books.”

Now his other friend looks interested in the conversation. The one who has that weird-looking glass.

“Fascinating, to find a smart human like you. I want to run some tests.” Hearing that crazy scientist talk again brings back bad memories as your face becomes uncomfortable and your relaxed figure goes rigid inside Yoongi’s arms. He could feel you tense up in fear and he reacted by holding you more firmly to his chest.

“You’re scaring her. Stop it.” This is the first thing he says after he bought you. Namjoon looks sheepish and apologises and even Hoseok reassures you that he’s just not good with words and you won’t be a lab rat at all.

You accept their apology. You think they mean well and are quite friendly to your utter surprise. They seem like good guys. You feel like it’s a good time to reveal some of your thoughts.

“Just because you read my description doesn’t mean you know anything about me. I wouldn’t reveal anything that would put me at a disadvantage. This is how I could survive until now.” The words taste sour in your mind and you think about all the things you had to do and endure just to be here. Was it worth it? This life. You have thought about it more times than you would have liked to admit.

“It must have been hard for you.” Hoseok shows you empathy and you give him a smile back in silent thanks.

“Why did you choose Yoongi?” A younger male looks at you with curious eyes. They don’t show it but this is the question they all were curious about all along. Even Yoongi perks up when he thinks you’re not looking.

“My instinct told me to trust him.” As for why, you don’t know either. You saw countless men and women walk in front of your cage but you only wanted him to buy you. The moment his eyes unknowingly lingered on you you decided to go with him. He must have felt something too. You saw him before he saw you. He never looked at anyone else but you. If you ask him he will probably deny it but you’re sure of it.

You probably looked desperate. Now that you replay your impulsive behaviour in your mind colour blooms on your cheeks in embarrassment. You learned how to kiss from a book it didn’t occur to you before but what if you were a bad kisser? You started spiralling until your surroundings faded and you locked yourself inside your head. You didn’t register when you arrived on board or when he carried you to his room.

You shiver when he puts you down on his bed. The temperature of his room is colder than you’re used to.

You panic when he tugs your clothes without a word. You grab his cold hands and look into his eyes with widened ones. He looks back at you with predatory. You once read that humans had a ceremony to be pronounced wife and husband. You never experienced it as a human but it sounded romantic.

Thinking back on what you read.

Yoongi is an alien. His species only takes one wife and their ritual is different from yours. The road to becoming his wife is simple enough.

“Look at you being surprised. As if you didn’t know what you did when you kissed me first.” You didn’t know, you just acted impulsively without thinking. You wanted to say that to him but only a gasp left your lips as he pushed you down on his large bed. He won’t listen to any of your pathetic excuses now.

“You forced my hands. Even if you don’t want it anymore you have no other choice but to be mine.” You gulp down the saliva that accumulated in your mouth, his fierce eyes pin you to the spot lying helplessly under him. His hand is so cold as he wraps it around your neck gently he can feel your heartbeat accelerate under his palm. He studies your features taking in every inch of you from head to toe. Committing everything about you to memory. Yoongi curls a few locks of your long hair around his fingers inhaling your scent his nose rubs against your pulse point. Your hands hold onto his waist digging your fingers onto his side but he doesn’t care about it as he kisses the skin on your neck.

You’re dirty and dishevelled in appearance your captor was not kind to his prisoners and you look like a shell of yourself after everything that you’ve been through. Your average beauty doesn’t matter to Yoongi. He’s going to take you regardless of how beautiful you look in other's eyes or not. The kiss already sealed your fate as his bride. Imprinting your taste on him means that he can’t escape you. While Yoongi wants to take you right then and there he realises that you need to be in a better shape to undertake the ritual. He did get a reaction rise out of you. So amusingly innocent.

“Take a shower, you reak.” You awkwardly look to the side unable to meet with his confident smirk. He likes to watch your face turn red. He pulls away from you and you take in a long-needed breath of fresh air. The coldness seeping back into your body makes you sober up and you scurry to his joined bathroom. Yoongi laughs as he sees you hide behind the door he makes sure you can operate the shower before he goes out to get some food for you. You don’t have any clothes to wear but you’re at least clean.

You find a clean cloth to wrap around your body in makeshift clothes it’s better than nothing as you need something to shield you from the cold.

Yoongi comes back before you can organize your thoughts. You could barely calm your heart as your mind kept replaying his soft lips on your neck and his body weight on you not to talk about those alluring black eyes. You could still see your reflection in them as you lock gazes. You look away when he puts the tray down in front of you full of food that you don’t know the name of. It’s not too bad once you take a bite but it’s bland the more you consume. It meets the purpose of filling you up as you no longer feel that gnawing hunger in the pit of your stomach.

You jolt up when you feel his hand pull your wet hair to the other side making his way to your neck. He takes a long whiff of air finally smelling your natural scent that was previously masked by the dirt and sweat. He takes the opportunity to cover you in his scent rubbing his nose up and down your throat.

You can’t concentrate on eating anymore.

“Eat. You will need it.” As if he could read your mind he halts all movements simply deciding on laying his head on your shoulder. You pick up more food and try to ignore how his possessive touch engulfs your body in a backhug. You remember how angry he became once you forcibly kissed him he even pushed you hard enough to lose your footing. The way he accepted you is too sudden.

“Are you going to …” Unable to say the words you stop in the middle.

“Am I going to fuck you? Yes, I will.” You gulp.

“Don’t you hate me for kissing you?” You close your eyes when Yoongi wraps his fingers around your neck again this time with more force but gentle enough that you’re not choking on air he just pulls you against his chest holding you by the neck as his nose rubs against your left cheek.

“I am angry. You selfishly decided this on your own. I bet you don’t realise half of the mess you got yourself into. I don’t hate you though. There’s something about you that caught my eye.”

It’s only a small peck on your cheek but your hands tighten around the tray. You take in a much-needed breath when you realise he doesn’t hate you. It makes you feel better knowing that it’s not entirely your imagination. He did look at you.

“I admit I don’t know much.” You sheepishly reply confirming his words. You read some things about his species but there’s no proof that everything is accurate.

“It doesn’t matter as you will be mine anyway.” His hand pulls you close his fingers splayed over your stomach. You only have a thin cloth over your naked body while Yoongi is fully clothed.

“Put down the tray.” You follow his order bending down slightly to put the tray down onto the floor. You let out a surprised yelp when his hands find your ass under the thin material, your backside is on full display for his hungry eyes. Your fingers have a deadly grip on the edge of the bed as he kneads the soft flesh.

“Your smell comes strongly from here.” His thumb parts your folds some wetness is gathered there that sticks to his finger when he pulls back. “I read a few books about you too, enough to know that this means you like the idea of me fucking you.”

Yoongi hates how he can’t see you acting coy biting your lip so he forcibly pulls you back against his chest and pulls your face to the side. You land on his lap your legs dangling on either side of his thighs. He runs his finger up and down your wetness watching your expression turn hazy and your mouth open to let out a silent moan.

“You like this don’t you? Having your human pussy touched by me.” Yoongi finds your clit quickly finding out how your moans increase in volume when he rubs circles over it. You’re gushing over his fingers.

The black ink on his arms moves to stain your body with blackness until it circles over your thigh in two pretty hoops. Your body is getting overheated as his touches devour your body. Fingers dance around your folds, your hips. The black hoops around your ankles and thighs are a reminder of what you started. You’re going to become Yoongi’s and no one can stop that from happening.

Feeling overwhelmed you reach up to kiss him and he does with a growl. He doesn’t push you away like when you stole his first kiss. No. He pulls you closer turning you around until you’re chest to chest.

Your hand rests against his shoulders your fingernails digging into his skin as you feel one of his fingers enter you without warning. Yoongi swallows your sounds with his mouth pushing his finger in and out of your pussy until your essence is running down his wrist. He adds another one and another one stretching your walls as he devours your mouth your hips moving along without you noticing. Getting into the rhythm of riding his fingers. You need to pull back to get some air in between the kisses. His hungry expression manages to steal your last remaining string of sanity. The cloth around you barely covers you anymore and Yoongi goes to remove it and leave you entirely naked before him.

His attention goes to your perky nipples both hands grabbing a handful and pepper kisses around the mound.

So far he doesn’t look strange. Not that you have any experience of what you should see in a situation like this. You conclude that your newly formed tattoos are one of the few things that are specific to his race.

His tongue is cold it makes you shiver when he sucks on one of your nipples. He’s so cold but his coolness is welcomed by your feverish body.

“Lay down.” You do as he tells you. Eagerly and shamelessly open your legs and welcome him between them. This is really happening you realise when he takes off his clothes. His pale skin is pretty and cool against you. Even his cock lined with cold blue veins is pretty and cold when he rubs it between your folds. It’s big and hard like a rock against you. Yoongi can see how you tense up after seeing his size.

“It won’t hurt if you do as I tell you.” He caresses your cheek with his thumb kissing you surprisingly sweetly.

“O-okay.” You nod. You wanted this. You can’t back down now. This is your only chance to live a life without hardships. You’re going to take everything that he gives you.

“This will make it feel better.” Yoongi licks his finger and when it comes into contact with your clit you feel an overwhelming pleasure bloom inside you. His saliva is heightening your pleasure having some kind of chemical in it that helps you feel kind of high. It blocks the pain when his veiny head pushes through the tight rim of your muscle. You and Yoongi watch how his long cock disappears in you inch by inch. It doesn’t hurt at all as he keeps his thumb on your clit, only making you feel full.

“Too much.” You put your hand on your stomach and feel him sitting inside. He makes way no matter how much your body tries to constrict around the intrusion. He reaches your deepest part shaping you into his size.

“There. All in.” Yoongi chuckles when he sees you struggle. You want to stay still and move at the same time. It feels good and strange but too good. You want him to move but on the other hand, you need time to get accustomed to this fullness. Yoongi can see the outline of his cock bulge out of your tummy and he experimentally pushes against your skin. Your pussy pulse around him and get tighter as he massages your lower belly. “How does it feel my little human? Do you feel good?”

You nod kissing him back with passion as your tongues rub together. He continues his descent down your body kissing your neck and breasts. Filling your body with pretty black ink. You pulse and throb around him as he remains unmoving inside you. Not enough you roll your hips trying to show him you want him to move.

“Answer me. Does my cock make you feel good?” At first, he only pulls out a little before he thrusts back testing the waters before he pulls out more as he uses a steady pace to rock into you.

“Yes. Yes. So good please don’t stop. Fuck me harder.” Yoongi wonders how his wife learned how to say such dirty words in his language but he’s thankful for it as his cock appreciates the compliments. Just like you asked he fucks you harder hitting that spot inside you with more deep thrusts.

“Yoongi. Yoongi.” The way you moan his name spurs him on, grabbing your ankles he sinks the remaining inch inside you.

“Ah. Y/N.” He responds with your own name. Grabbing your hips he pumps his cock in and out of you at a fast pace until you can remember his shape. This is the first time he says your name and your walls constrict around him hearing him moaning it. He’s growing addicted to the feel of you. He can hear and smell and see you. The way your pussy swallows him in your tight and wet heat ruined every expectation he had before.

You feel way better than he imagined.

Your tits bounce with each thrust and your moans never cease to slip from your dry throat as he buries his shaft to the hilt.

“Yoongi, I feel weird.” You grab his hand need something to hold onto as you feel this weird tightness in your belly. Yoongi could sense you were almost there tripping over the edge of bliss you became tighter around him. You’re growing sensitive.

“I know. Hold onto me, my sweet wife.” You hold his hand as he twists it behind your back the position is uncomfortable but the minute his cock slips back inside your heat you forget about it as it reaches new places inside you. Your back is arched one hand is firmly holding you and the other is placed on your hips.

This position allows him to hit even deeper the tip of his cock curves around a spot that has you see stars. You’re panting with your face nearly suffocating against the bed. Unable to move or hold yourself up you’re entirely kept in place by the help of Yoongi. The tightness in your chest explodes as you cream around Yoongi’s cock. He doesn’t stop there he fucks you through overstimulation keeping up with his ruthless pace you tear through the bedsheets. His long fat cock claims your pussy as his with a heavy load of cum. The tattoos on your body all settle down as he finishes with a few sloppy thrusts into your buttered hole.

Once he pulls out you can feel his thick cum pour out and his fingers trace your tattoos painting your body with his whiteness until everything about you is covered in him. He doesn’t stop there, he pries your shaking legs open and latches onto your sensitive bud. Yoongi pushes his cum back with two of his fingers as his tongue flicks over your clit. It’s too much and you try to push his face away but he doesn’t budge. He holds both of your hands in his tight grip on your stomach as he continues to feast on your pussy.

“Yoongi. Oh, uh.” You squirm but you can’t escape his hold. “Please. Stop, i-it’s too much.” Tears start to roll down your cheeks the next orgasm you experience hurts so bad but you can’t deny how it feels incredible at the same time. More intense than the previous one you had you let go with a cry of his name and cum around his fingers.

“No. More.” Yoongi looks up after registering your hiccup and goes up to soothe you. His tongue licks your tears away showering your neck and face with kisses until your crying subsides.

Yoongi looks you over and while he finds you utterly appealing covered in his cum he has a concerned look in his eyes. “Are you alright? Did I hurt you?” He pulls you close to his chest but after your senses come back one by one you start to feel his sticky cum all over you. Some still gush out of your hole as he hugs you to his body.

“No.” You shake your head reassuring him with a kiss. You don’t want to admit you cried because he felt so good.

This is the first time you experienced something like this. You’re in no way an expert but you know that his dick is not like any human males you’ve encountered in your books. They shouldn’t be so cold and big and the small ridges that kept rubbing your insides felt weird but incredibly good at the same time.

Even when he’s not aroused he’s so big. You want to touch it. “Can I?” Asking for permission you reach for his cock that rests against your leg but you don’t touch it until you get the green light for it.

“Sure.” Yoongi chuckles at your curiosity. It hasn’t been a hot minute that his dick was inside you but you want to touch it.

“It’s cold.” You muse, it’s slick with both of your cum so you could drag it up and down easily. Yoongi’s gasp catches in his throat it’s still sensitive but he lets you pump it until it’s hard again. You grow curious about how it tastes so you lick around the head as your hand moves up and down in slow motion. It doesn’t really taste like anything to you. Easy to swallow. You take your place in between his legs to get comfortable. Yoongi shivers when he feels your hot mouth around his most sensitive cockhead. You dip your tongue into the slit earning a loud groan from Yoongi his hand rests on top of your head only moving to get the hair out of his view of you sucking his cock.

“Do you like it?” You wonder if it feels good for him. This is the first time you’re doing this.

“Y-Yes, keep going.” You take more of him into your mouth encouraged by his hooded eyes that watch you. “Your mouth is very warm. It feels incredible.” You hum around a mouthful of cock he’s too big for you to get even half of him into your mouth. You stroke the skin that you can’t lick and you focus on his head instead of trying to choke on his cock. Even though you don’t think he wouldn’t like to see you choke on his length trying to fit everything. He reassures you that he likes everything you do to him. He doesn’t try to push your head down and you appreciate his thoughtfulness with an enthusiastic bob of your head up and down his length. He fills your mouth so much that it’s hard for you to swallow around it.

He's throbbing between your lips as you kiss the tip. He shows you how much he’s enjoying it with his lewd moans and sweet touches on your face and the back of your head. Contemplating what you should do with yourself you decide to give in to the desire once more. You want to have him again that it outweighs your concern to be able to take him after such a short time but it doesn’t deter you as you climb on his lap.

“Help me?” You ask shyly rubbing on his fully hard cock.

“Of course,” Yoongi replies with a smirk he can see how needy you are and he won’t deny his pretty wife anything. He kisses your lips sucking on your tongue as he guides your hips to hover over his cockhead.

He touches and kisses every mark and tattoo that appears on your skin.

You sink slowly at your own pace feeling full but you overcome the stretch of your body remembering his shape makes it easier for you to bury it fully into you. He’s big and hard as a rock inside you.

You need him to help you move but he’s more than eager to lift you and have you bounce on his cock. He’s wound up from your previous actions he had no idea he would be this turned on by seeing your small hands and mouth wrapped around his dick. You smell delicious he can’t help but kiss every inch he can reach as he guides you through the motions. You bounce on his cock your expression entirely clouded by pleasure as he hits the best spots inside your spongy walls. Yoongi kneads your ass pulling them apart to watch his cock disappear inside your small pussy. Your body might be coated in his cum but his cock is entirely coated in your arousal and cum until he shoots a fresh load inside your spent hole.

The others don’t see you the next couple of days only catch the back of Yoongi as he carries fresh food for you.

#bts smut #bts fanfiction #yoongi smut #yoongi fanfiction #bts fic #bts fanfic #yoongi fic #yoongi fanfic #bts alien au #bts fantasy au #alien bts #alien bts au #bts #bts x reader #yoongi x reader #alien yoongi #kpop smut #kpop fanfiction

653 notes · View notes

rroseselavyyy · 6 months ago

Note

then, could i request: Yoongi and yn go to the beach, she's wearing a small bikini, Yoongi can't resist her tits and starts touching them (in front of all the people there). pinching nipples, sucking, fondling...untill the both of them are so horny that they just fuck right there in front of everyone? if its way too kinky I could tone it down a bit? haha

honeysuckle - myg

pairing: yoongi x female reader

warnings: smut, breast play, exhibitionism, unprotected s*x

a/n: here is your request dear anon :) I hope you like it! 🩷🥹

His eyes lingered on your bikini top as he tried to hide his fascination with your barely covered tits. You were reading a fashion magazine under your sunglasses as he applied sunscreen to your legs, his fingers inadvertently digging into the flesh of your thighs. There were drops of water from your wet hair dripping down onto your breasts and Yoongi wanted to look away but the sight was too captivating.

Yoongi knew it was impossible for him not to give in to his animal nature when you asked him to put sunscreen on your breasts.

His hands felt gentle on your skin, massaging your breasts with great care until you let out a trembling whimper. As his touches grew bolder, his eyes found yours as if to ask your permission.

Yoongi realized you were as eager as he was by the way you tugged at his hair, eyes closed and panting heavily. He made you lie on your back while he crawled on top of you. Soft kisses on your nipples became much more aggressive as if he was sucking the milk from them. The thought of it alone sent blood rushing to his cock as the mental images of you feeding his baby with your beautiful tits flashed through his mind.

You bit your lower lip to muffle your moans as his wet kisses traced a path between your collarbones to your jawline. His hands found their way to the swell of your breasts, squeezing them shamelessly.

"Baby, do you feel it?" Yoongi brought your hand to his growing bulge as if you two were in your own bedroom and not on a beach where anyone could walk in on you. "I'm so horny for you."

You were not like this at the beginning of your relationship with Yoongi, on the contrary, you would freak out the moment he laid his hands on you in public. But you seemed far from feeling ashamed when he whispered sweet nothings in your ear, making your body tremble in the summer breeze.

Your mother was right in everything she told you about him. He had been a bad influence on you.

"Don't you think it's hot?" You looked at him under your lashes, your mind too dizzy to make out any of his words as his fingers skilfully toyed with the hem of your bikini bottoms. As he smiled confidently over your lips, the sight of his wet hair and sunkissed cheeks made your pussy ache with desire. "I mean, the risk of getting caught?"

You almost cried as he pulled the bottom of your bikini aside and teased you with his middle and index fingers. "It's okay beautiful, I've got you." Your sand covered legs brushed against his in a delicious way as he pushed his wet shorts down far enough to get his dick out. "Let me take care of you."

Yoongi planted wet kisses on your cheek as he slid the head of his cock into your pussy, which was already soaking wet with the evidence of how much you wanted him. It didn't seem like getting caught by someone was on your plate, considering he was ready to explode when he felt your heavenly walls fluttering around him.

You kissed each other to muffle the sound of your moans. Even though you were making love in a public place, keeping the sounds of the declaration of your love to yourselves was your way of maintaining a kind of privacy.

His hips picked up a pace that made you see stars. As your body spasmed with an intense orgasm, your legs were wrapped around his waist as if you didn't want to let him go. Soon his cum filled you to the brim and then you felt the familiar sensation of his embrace, his arms wrapped around your form in a way that made you feel at home.

"You're a freak of nature, you know that right?" You played with the hair at the back of his neck as you teased him with a weary smile on your lips. He tucked a strand of hair behind your ear as you recovered from your orgasm, his chest heaving from your earlier activity. "And you love me for that."

#bts smut #bts x reader #yoongi x reader #yoongi smut #min yoongi smut #min yoongi #yoongi fanfiction #bts fanfic #yoongi #rroseselavyyyasks #rroseselavyyyrequestedfics

501 notes · View notes

prodagustd · 13 days ago

Text

surprise | myg

this is an extra chapter of the so it goes series.

—pairing: rapper!yoongi x reader

—rating: +18

—genre: established relationship, ex fwb, angst, fluff

—warnings/tags: implied smut, lots of angst, fluff, subtle talk about aborti0n, DON’T trust my poor knowledge in contraceptive methods and use condoms!! english is not my first language btw

—words: 7.6k

a/note: this is proof that if you ask me enough, I'll finish writing my wips!! it's been a long time but I finally get to post the surprise drabble I've been planning and it makes me sososo happy to come back to this couple 😭 I missed them so much I just hope you missed them as much as I did!! BTW I was planning to post this after two other drabbles, so if you read any additional information it's because this was intended to be posted after that, but i wanted to post this so badly😭 so here it is!! hehe anyway enjoy!!

A few years ago, when you and Yoongi were beginning to be a thing and you still lived with your best friend, Nayeon, while he lived alone in his big apartment, he picked up this habit of begging you to stay the night with him every time you visited, even though he knew you couldn’t. You used to say no, trying hard to ignore the way he kissed your neck and sneaked his hands under your blouse while explaining that, if you said yes, he was willing to wake up early and drive you to your first class the next day. You'd think that after the first or maybe even the second time he tried this, the effect would wear off, but you ended up agreeing every single time.

Back then everything was so new to him, he couldn’t remember the last time he liked someone that much, he didn’t know what was happening to him and why he wanted to spend every night with you, why he couldn’t keep his hands off you. Sure you were pretty, sure you were beautiful and funny, and your lips tasted like strawberries and you looked at him like one else ever did, maybe it had something to do with that, who knew? The only thing he knew was that he felt like a teenager everytime you kissed him, or every time you ran your fingers through his hair or every time you were naked under him, or on top of him, or anywhere close to him for that matter.

It took Yoongi a few hits, ten drunk nights and way too many days to realize that you were the only thing that he needed, that the world only made sense if you were by his side.

With time, Yoongi learned to kiss slowly, to make love slowly, to take things with ease; he learned that you were going nowhere, but there were still those moments where he felt he couldn’t get enough of you; like tonight, to be exact.

You were sure that in the last four years of dating Yoongi you had made it clear enough that you were a city girl, and you were certain your boyfriend knew that. You loved the noise and the chaos—the people bumping into each other on the streets, the busy days and nights. It wasn’t something you planned to give up anytime soon; this was the perfect time in your life to embrace the city's hustle. You’d have plenty of time for a quiet life when you got older.

Yoongi liked the city too—he enjoyed the view from his apartment window and the convenience of ordering food at any hour of the night. But he also loved road trips and sleeping in the middle of nowhere in a tent, bonfires, fishing and swimming in lakes. Yoongi had always been into camping, but instead of planning a trip with his good old friend Seokjin, who didn’t mind sleeping in a tent and loved fishing, he invited you—someone who hated bugs and couldn’t stand the idea of walking more than three minutes to find a bathroom.

You were still trying to decide whether not being able to say no to Yoongi was a problem, but it was his last free week before going back on tour. When he looked at you with starry eyes and asked you to go on a trip with him, which included spending the last two days sleeping in a tent, you couldn’t say no.

It was only two days, you were sure you could endure not sleeping in a proper bed for that long if that made him happy, you made the effort of not complaining just for tonight, after all you only had tickets to go visit him on tour in exactly five weeks, you were going to miss him.

It was easy not to complain when Yoongi’s plans for your last night together were exclusively romantic; he cooked for you, built a campfire and spent the rest of the night stargazing until it was too cold to be outside, and when you were inside the tent he made sure to have hot water bags under the blankets, but they were no use when he was determined to get you naked.

Did you mention that it was still winter?

Now you were trapped in a tent with him, straddling him as he kissed you deeply and gripped your thighs, begging you to ride him against your lips. That was when you started to complain.

You felt your whole body shivering when Yoongi’s warm hands pulled your t-shirt over your head, leaving you almost naked. You hugged your torso, attempting to cover your breasts as you sat straight on top of your boyfriend, who was comfortably laying on the sleeping bag, fully clothed.

“Yoongi, I’m cold.” You whined.

“C’mon, it’s going to wear off” He tried to convince you, rubbing his palms over your shoulders to keep you warm. You shook your head, laying your head on his still clothed chest as he covered your bare back with the blanket. It was easy for him to say that when he was wearing sweatpants and a long sleeve t-shirt.

You knew that Yoongi was already missing you. He was fully aware that after tonight, he wouldn’t see you for a whole month and he wanted to make it last as long as he could, to hold you and kiss you as much as you let him. He had gotten too used to you—used to sleeping and waking up next to you, having you all to himself—but it became a problem every time he had to leave for work, it was impossible not to miss you. You still had texts, calls and FaceTime, but he was also taking into account time difference, work, and the fact that all of that wasn’t the real thing. And if you were honest, you were already missing him too.

“What if I catch a cold?” You mumbled over his shirt.

Yoongi kissed the top of your head, running his hands down your bare back and sending chills to your spine. How was he able to get you almost naked but you didn’t even get the chance to take off his t-shirt? “It’s not that cold.” He said, not willing to give up.

You raised your head to look at him, frowning “Says the person who’s still fully clothed.”

He huffed, flipping you over to leave you under him. Suddenly, warmth rushed over you as you felt his body hovering over your frame. He was quick to take off his own t-shirt, trying to make you happy, but he quickly realized that maybe you were right, it was fucking cold, but he wasn’t going to back down.

“Happy now?”

“No, it’s freezing out there!” You kept complaining “Why do we have to do it without clothes? I don’t mind clothes, I actually think that doing it while being dressed is quite hot.”

You threw your arms around his neck, bringing him closer to you. Even though you were in fact turned on from the kissing and grinding session you had a few moments ago, you still were thinking about the logistics of fucking inside the tent.

Yoongi scoffed, amused. “And I actually think that you being naked is quite hot, too.” He said, sneaking his face in the crook of your neck to trail down little kisses, nibbling the skin softly. “C’mon, baby. I won’t see you for weeks, let me make love to you.”

You tried not to roll your eyes. “You had been using that excuse the whole trip.” And you’ve fallen for it every time. His plans for this trip were very simple: fishing, camping and fucking you on every opportunity he had. It was not like you were against it, it has been a long time since you and him had time only for the two of you.

“But isn’t it true?” He gazed up, looking at you with his soft eyes, his hair falling like a curtain on his face. “I’m gonna miss you.”

You took a second to observe the tenderness of his features, to take in the softness of his voice, and for a moment there you knew why it was so hard to say no to him, you just didn’t want to say no.

You closed your eyes, scrunching your nose. “We are gonna make such a mess.” You whined, but he just chuckled, knowing he won.

“I’ll take care of it, I promise.” He said with a soft voice, reaching for your lips as he roamed his hands towards your chest. You didn’t exactly know how he was going to “take care of it”, but his hands were gentle, the kiss was slow and when he opened his mouth to let his tongue slip past your lips, you were too into it to keep protesting about it.

As you sat on the cold bathroom floor of the home you shared with Yoongi, you tried to remind yourself of two basic things that you hoped would stop the sinking feeling in your chest. First, three weeks without Yoongi never killed anyone, this was something you knew from experience, Yoongi’s job demanded him to travel all the time, you were used to it, or at least you were supposed to be. Second, you were an independent woman (right?). You have been an independent woman since you were eighteen when you moved to Seoul alone, since you started a new life in a new city on your own. You woke up at six am everyday, worked hard your whole shift, paid the bills every month and managed to keep your house in order every day of the week. Sure, you loved Yoongi, and he loved you, and you could never imagine a life without him, but you didn’t need him, you wanted him. He wasn’t an extension of you, you were your own person, but why did you feel like the world was about to end right now if he was not there?

Crying your heart out like a five year old kid, you remembered the only time you had to take a pregnancy test, and how it looked nothing like this.

Four years ago when you and Yoongi still didn’t kiss in front of your friends, when he still thought twice before holding your hand in public but still had the nerve of sneaking in your bed. That seemed like a hundred years ago, a universe away, but no, it was not too long ago when you were stubborn and kind of irresponsible for agreeing with him as he kissed your neck and ran his hands down your thighs while asking you if it was okay for him to “pull out” that night, since both of you completely forgot about condoms. You winced at the memory, but in your defense, you were too far gone to say no, take a cold shower and kiss him goodnight. You agreed only for that night, but three weeks later you were three days late and losing your mind, the only logical thing to do was to take a pregnancy test that, of course, came negative, but to this day you couldn’t shake the anxious feeling that you felt in your stomach those minutes before the negative sign appeared, and you couldn’t forget how pale Yoongi’s face turned when you told him about it.

And now you were there, one hand covering your face while the other held a pregnancy test—only this time, it was positive.

The one on your hand wasn’t the only one, no. There were two other positive tests laying on the floor in front of you, and even if you wanted to not trust the results, they couldn’t be all wrong, right? The plus sign was very clear in each one of them and you were five days late. The problem was that you were on the pill, you had been on the pill for the last couple years and this never happened to you, this wasn’t something normal or a simple mistake.

You breathed out, trying not to panic. You got up on your bare feet to look at yourself in the mirror. You were a mess, that was not a surprise at all, your face was all swollen for the amount of time you have been crying and your hair was a big nest above your head. You washed your face, attempting to remain calm and evaluating your options. You glanced at your phone resting on the sink, and an overwhelming urge to call your mother surged within you, but as you imagined how the conversation would go, you quickly realized it wouldn’t be a good idea.

Your mother was not nosy, but she could be a little dense, a bit complicated, and it was not what you needed right now. You were sure that calling her while having a mental breakdown was going to drive her crazy, and consequently, drive you crazy too. She would want to know every single detail, date, place and hour to understand the situation better, and you would have to explain something you didn’t even understand yet. You could imagine the conversation, she would try to explain every contraceptive method like you were a teenager and ask why you didn’t use a condom, because you knew she would ask, and you didn’t want to explain to her how you went on vacation with your boyfriend to have a bunch of condomless sex, the thought alone made you want to vomit.

Calling your mother was not an option, not only because talking to her on the phone was complicated enough, but because she was in a different city, which brought you to discard calling Nayeon too, who was on vacation with her boyfriend (yes, boyfriend, that sounded ridiculous to you, too.)

The last option was something you couldn't even fathom doing unless you were desperate, but you know what they say, desperate times call desperate measures, so you blew your nose, brushed your hair and called the only person in this city who would come running without asking any questions, Jungkook.

Breaking the news to the person in front of you wasn’t easy, especially when the words you needed to say were as unreal as they sounded. You didn’t look much better, you spent the next thirty minutes that Jungkook took to arrive crying, as Holly, the brown fluffy dog, looked at you like you just went mad, the worst thing was that you weren’t far from it. It was difficult to keep it together when your mind refused to look at the bright side of things, when you couldn’t call your mom and Yoongi was in another country, but when Jungkook rang your bell and entered through the door, you tried your best to smile at him and act like you weren’t in the middle of a mental breakdown.

Your act wasn’t convincing, your friend looked at you like you were about to tell him that you killed someone and you needed help to hide the body.

You would have never recur to a man other than Yoongi for this kind of situation, but you decided to trust your ten years of friendship with the man in front of you and hope that he could be of any help.

“You are what?” Said Jungkook, standing in the middle of the living room with his eyes wide open, trying to understand the meaning of your words.

There, in your pajamas and your hands on your hips, you closed your eyes shut, sighing. “Jungkook…” You said through gritted teeth.

“I’m serious.” He said, letting his backpack drop to the floor. “I crossed half the city to get here, are you not kidding me right now?”

“I’m serious, too!” You whined “I’m not kidding, I don’t know what to do.”

He slowly approached you, walking towards the couch to take a seat. He suddenly felt his blood pressure dropping, his stomach sinking and his mouth dry as if he was the one developing a human organism inside his body. “Are you sure?” He murmured. “Are you not having one of those crises you had when you were a teenager? I remember that time in college when you freaked out when you thought you were pregnant because some guy-”

“Jungkook, I’m sure.” You interrupted him, already knowing the whole story, but this time it was not just you overreacting. “My period is late and I took three tests, all positive.”

He gulped, letting the room fall silent for a few seconds as both of you contemplated what that meant. You knew he was trying his best not to freak out, so you were grateful for his reaction, at least he didn’t faint like you expected him to do, but he was still white as a sheet, trying to find a solution in his head as though you had told him he was the one who was going to be a father.

“What are we gonna do?” He said under his breath.

“What am I gonna do?” You corrected him, sitting next to him “You are supposed to help me.”

Jungkook took one hard look at you, looking terrified. “How?”

“God, I shouldn’t have called you.” You rolled your eyes.

“No, I mean, what do you want to do?” He said. “Did you tell Yoongi?”

“Of course not.” You replied, feeling your eyes getting teary, but still trying to hold back.

“Do you want to… tell him?” He continued to ask.

You sniffed “I mean, I don’t know how.” You pouted “I’m seeing him in two weeks, I don’t know if I can wait that long.”

He threw himself back against the couch, sinking in the cushions. It was like Jungkook’s life flashed before his eyes, how come he was discussing this with you right now? He still felt like you were kids, there was no way you were pregnant right now. “How did this happen?” He murmured to himself, looking at the blank wall in front of him.

“Is it necessary for me to explain it?” You cried, snuggling closer to him as you rested your head on his shoulder.

“Did you not use condoms?” He scolded you like he was your mother.

You shifted your weight uneasily, eyes darting down to your socks. “We don’t… use condoms.” You cleared your throat, the words coming out hushed and hesitant. “I’m on the pill, I don’t know what happened.”

On second thought, that wasn’t something Jungkook wanted to know. It was like finding out how his parents had sex, he squirmed at the thought, shifting in his place. “Can you not call your doctor?” He suggested, his voice laced with uncertainty.

You paused, considering it. It was probably the most logical thing Jungkook could say, but you weren’t sure if your doctor could do anything about it.

“Even if I call her and tell her what's going on, it’s not like I can get a refund.” You huffed, a dry smile tugging at your lips.

He raised an eyebrow. “Well…” he began, dragging the word out. “In some way, you could get a refund.” You blinked at him, opening your eyes wide in surprise. “I mean only if you want to!”

You were so nervous you wanted to laugh. It wasn’t like the thought didn’t cross your mind for a moment, but only when you tried to evaluate your options; if you were being honest, you couldn’t see yourself getting rid of the baby—or whatever organism had been living rent-free in your body for the past three weeks. Jungkook looked terrified that you might explode at him, especially when it seemed like you were on the verge of tears, but his question made you think, if you didn’t want to get rid of it, what was that you wanted to do?

You sank your shoulders, feeling completely lost. “That’s the problem.” You murmured “I don’t know if I want a refund.”

Jungkook stood still for a moment, his eyes softening as he watched you. His thoughts swirled, trying to grasp the weight of your words.

"Would Yoongi want a refund?" He asked, his tone lighter than before, but the sincerity in his voice was unmistakable. Despite the attempt at humor, his eyes betrayed the concern he was masking with the joke.

A shaky exhale left your lips, the weight of uncertainty pulling you down. “I don’t know…” Was the only thing you could say.

“But do you know if Yoongi wanted… kids?” He said as if that was a forbidden word. “I mean, do you want them?”

It wasn’t like you didn’t know what Yoongi wanted. You sighed, suddenly remembering all those times when the idea of a family came up in conversations, between drunken thoughts, before falling asleep, at dinner with his parents and on the ride home when he apologized on his mother’s behalf when she asked when you were going to give her grandchildren. His soft eyes, his hand on your tight and the view of the future laying in front of you like a promise. The thought warmed your heart for a moment, but the truth was that there was a difference between talking about it and actually having kids.

“We’ve talked about it…” You admitted. “But we’ve never planned it, let alone now that he’s on tour.”

Jungkook hummed, still thinking.

“But you both agreed to have kids at some point.” He affirmed, and you just nodded.

It was in that moment where you realized you were crying again, tears slowly falling down your cheeks as you stood in silence, contemplating the overwhelming weight of the situation.

“Fuck, don’t cry.” Jungkook said, rushing to wrap his arms around you, he enveloped you in a tight hug. As soon as you buried your face into his chest, something inside you gave away. You began sobbing against his hoodie, the tears flowed freely and uncontrollable, unable to hold yourself back. “C’mon, it’s okay, you’re okay. Nothing bad’s gonna happen.” His voice was soft but firm, holding you tightly. He pulled back just enough to look at you, his thumb gently wiping away a tear from your cheek, his gaze filled with nothing but concern. “You don’t need to have it all figured out right now. Let’s go step by step, okay?”

You nodded, feeling like a kid lost in the mall. “Okay, if you want to see him as soon as possible, you have to change your flight first.” He said, but you shook your head, trying not to panic.

“He’s going to ask why.” You said, your voice hoarse “What am I going to tell him?”

He kept silent, his eyes fixed on a distant point as he was trying to come up with a solution.

“Let’s not tell him.” He proposed.

“What do you mean let’s not tell him?”

“I’m leaving for tour next weekend, you should come with me and not tell him.” He kept going “Say that you missed him and you wanted to surprise him or some shit like that, and when you get him alone you talk to him about this.”

Now you were reminded that Jungkook had to leave to join Yoongi on tour in just a few days, you completely forgot about that. It was not like you couldn’t get on an airplane alone, but if your friend was going to be there you were sure it would make things easier.

You couldn’t believe it. After so many years you were there, sad and upset and still with the same idiot as a friend, willing to follow whatever plan he was going to make for you. You didn’t know if the plan actually sounded good or you were losing your mind for listening to Jungkook.

“Jungkook, Yoongi texts me all the time, he facetimes me everyday. It’s impossible to travel to another country without him noticing.”

“It’s not impossible, I’m gonna help you.” He insisted “If he texts you, you say you’re at home, if he wants to facetime you, you say you’re busy, turn off your location, it shouldn't be difficult.”

“It is difficult, what if he realizes I turned off my location?” You groaned, running your finger through your hair exasperatedly.

“You say it stopped working or something! C’mon, I thought you were smarter than me.”

You threw yourself back against the couch, crossing your arms on your chest, it was almost comical that you were considering the idea. Your friend could sense the hesitation in every move you made, he could only hope that you agreed because his mind couldn’t come up with another idea if his life depended on it.

“Jungkook, if he suspects anything…” You raised a finger, digging it on his chest.

“He won’t suspect a thing,” He affirmed confidently. “When have any of my plans ever gone wrong? Never. Trust me, by the time you get back home, you’ll have already decided to name your baby after me.”

You rolled your eyes, unable to hide your laugh and punching him in the arm playfully. The tension was still there, and you still felt an inexplicable ache in your chest that wasn’t going away anytime soon, but being there with Jungkook made you feel that this wasn’t the end of the world, nor of your life, but the beginning of it.

Jungkook's plan wasn’t the master plan he had been bragging about the whole airplane ride, but it worked. A few days later, after a few calls and arrangements to change your flight, after another three mental breakdowns and several crying sessions in the shower, you had somehow arrived in Berlin without Yoongi suspecting a thing. You had managed to dodge facetime calls and weird questions, maybe Yoongi missed you so much that he didn’t have time to question why you couldn’t wait two more weeks to see him when you arrived at the hotel and hugged in the hall, because, if he were honest, he couldn’t wait two more weeks to see you either.

Yoongi was happy with the surprise, you went to see his show that night and after arriving to his hotel room he made love to you like he hadn’t seen you in a year, kissing your neck, grabbing your waist, murmuring things in your ear, saying how much he loved you, how much he missed you. For a moment it was like nothing changed, the two of you sharing what happened these last three weeks tangled between sheets, laughing between kisses as you ignored why you were there in the first place.

“You can’t keep spending time away from me.” He said, hovering over you as he left a small kiss on your lips. “I’ll keep you in my pocket if it’s necessary.”

You sighed, knowing that you couldn’t keep this a secret for much longer, but for tonight, you’ll let it slide.

You didn’t know when you were returning home, but you promised yourself that before leaving for the next city, you would have to break the news to Yoongi, which was becoming more difficult by the second, because if you were good at something, that was procrastinating. It was absurd, a few days ago you were crying because all you wanted to do was to have your boyfriend by your side and now you couldn’t even look him in the eye without feeling like you were about to throw up, and your mind wasn’t helping at all. All those doubts invaded your head, attempting to drive you crazy, making you believe you were not ready to tell him yet.

Three days later, when you finished the last show in Berlin, Jungkook gave you a knowing look as you were leaving the arena holding Yoongi’s hand. He knew that you haven’t said a thing to Yoongi yet, he was all over you like he was your mother, asking you if you were okay, if you needed anything, when you were going to tell Yoongi, it almost made you regret telling him, but you knew he was right.

A night was all you needed, just one night to gather your thoughts and practice what you were going to say. You couldn’t keep declining glasses of wine forever, you could only hope no one noticed how weird you were acting, how sensitive you were since you stepped foot out the plane. Time was running out; you knew that when Yoongi invited you to an after-party before the whole crew left Berlin. Instead of telling him the truth, you simply said you weren’t in the mood to go, hoping that your time alone would help to gather enough courage to confess.

You weren’t trying to keep Yoongi with you, you told him a million times that he should go without you and that there was no problem with it. You hid under the blanket and hugged your body, watching him change his shirt into a black tee. He ran his finger through his hair in an attempt to tame it, looking at himself into the mirror and stealing a glance towards your reflection. He knew you too well not to notice the sad expression on your face as you scrolled through your phone, searching for a Disney movie to watch while he was out. He turned around, approaching the bed and kneeling beside you to catch your eyes.

“Are you sure you don’t want to come?” He asked once again.

“Yeah, I just need one night.” You said, which was true. You needed a few more moments to finish fighting with your own thoughts.

“But are you okay?” He continued to ask, cupping your jaw in his palm.

“Of course, why wouldn’t I be?” The words came out of your mouth with more emotion than you intended to, he couldn’t ignore it.

“I don’t know… You look like you want me to stay.”

There was a beat of silence in the room. The sweetness of his voice broke your heart into a million pieces. You couldn’t say yes and make him stay just because you were feeling down and you really had no problem with him leaving, but you didn’t have the heart to tell him no either. You were full of contradictions, wanting to be alone but wanting to be with him at the same time, something in your chest pulled, wanting him close.

“What makes you think that?” You murmured, fighting the urge to cry. God, you were too sensitive.

“Mmm… The Disney movie kinda gives you away.”

You huffled, playing with the fingers of his hands without looking at him. “I don’t want to ruin your fun… You should go, I mean it.”

He scoffed “You won’t, there’s going to be a bunch of parties until the tour ends, this one is nothing.”

“They’ll miss you…”

“You’ll miss me, too.”

“But do you want to stay, though?” You asked him a whisper.

“Of course I want to… But you have to let me choose the movie.” He warned, automatically making you giggle.

Letting Yoongi choose the movie was the worst decision you have made in the last week so far, but you felt grateful he couldn’t see you as he hugged your waist and rested his chin on your shoulder, because as the ending of Inside Out approached, you were sure you were about to cry.

When you arrived at the airport you promised yourself not to cry anymore, not in front of Yoongi at least, but your body was full of emotions you didn’t even know you could feel. It was certain that you’ve always been a sensitive person, you cried at the drop of a hat, Yoongi was familiar with that, but now it was impossible to stop it.

You’d stopped paying attention to the screen entirely; one by one, your darkest thoughts crept in, pressing heavily on your chest. The feelings you’d tried so hard to bury rose up, churning uneasily in your stomach, and when you least expected it, tears began to fall down your cheeks.

A sob escaped from your lips at the same time the main character began to cry, making your boyfriend shift in his place.

“Are you crying?” Yoongi suddenly asked, softly grabbing your shoulder to turn you around. He looked at your face, at first amused, thinking you were crying because of the movie. But his expression softened when he saw the sadness in your eyes and the damp lashes heavy with tears. You covered your face, unable to hold back, and the sobs came harder, each one swallowing the words you couldn’t say. “Hey, hey, what’s wrong?” He reached for your arms, attempting to pull them away from your face, but you turned away, burying your face in the pillow.

“Nothing,” You lied, desperate to avoid this conversation again. “I’m just… emotional, I don’t know.” Your voice cracked, hoarse, as the emotions you were trying to hide slipped through.

Yoongi was confused, but mostly worried. You had been weird since the day you arrived, he would be a fool not to notice.

He turned the light of the lamp on the nightstand, illuminating the room with a soft orange light and turned the tv off.

“Hey, look at me.” He softly said, brushing your hair with his fingers, it only made you want to cry harder. “I know something’s up, I’m not a dummy.”

You turned to him, hitting him with the most heartbreaking sight he could witness, your face soaked in tears, nose and eyes red as you pouted at him. What was so wrong to make you cry like that?

“What do you know?” Was the only thing you could say, daring to be upset at him when he hadn't done anything wrong.

He frowned at your tone. “Well, I know that you suddenly came here two weeks earlier just because. You are weird, you almost don’t eat, your suitcase is almost untouched like you’re going to leave anytime soon, you look… sad? I don’t know, baby, you tell me.”

You kept silent for a second, wiping the tears with the sleeve of your t-shirt. Uncomfortable, you sat in the bed, taking a deep breath as your mind completely blanked. You didn’t realize yet, but there was no way to get out of this one.

Contrary to popular belief, your boyfriend was kind of a dummy. You confirmed it when he decided to say the following words.

“Is it because of Lily?” He said, making you dart your eyes at him. “You don’t like her being here?

You couldn’t blame Yoongi for not understanding why you were crying, but the suggestion that you were jealous of one of his coworkers made you want to punch him. Lily was one of the new producers at Yoongi’s label, and a few months ago, Yoongi had noticed that you were starting to feel uneasy about the amount of time she was spending with him, which led him to realize that you were beginning to feel unexpectedly jealous of her. Yes, that was a whole deal back then, but it was water under the bridge now; the fact that she was touring with him and the boys didn’t faze you. The idea that he thought you were crying because of her was ridiculous.

“Yoongi, are you kidding me?”

“No, I’m not.” He defended himself. “The last time I saw you we were fine, but now you’re here crying and I don’t have a clue what I did wrong.”

Suddenly, you felt your heart sink. He hadn’t done anything wrong; it was you who was an emotional wreck, struggling to keep your feelings in check. A wave of guilt washed over you for the mess you’d just created, convinced there must have been ways to prevent all this conflict. But now, all you could do was sit there, tangled in the aftermath of your own emotions.

You sighed, defeated. “You didn’t do anything wrong.” You said “And it’s not about Lily, I couldn’t care less about that… It’s just that- … Yoongi…”

“Baby…” He said in the same tone as you, “What is it?”

As Yoongi’s gentle question hung in the air, you felt a knot tighten in your chest. The truth sat heavy on your tongue, you glanced away, fidgeting with the edge of your sleeve, buying time as your thoughts spiraled. “Yoongi, my period is late.” You confessed, observing Yoongi’s eyes go wide, his brows lifting in surprise as he tried to understand what he just heard. “It’s been a week now, I don’t know what happened. I tried to wait, but I had to take a test”

“A test?” he asked, voice low, surprise flickering in his eyes.

“A pregnancy test, Yoongi.” You said, trying not to roll your eyes. “I took three damn tests.”

“And what-... what happened?” He asked, his voice unsteady, eyes fixed on yours.

The room felt suddenly smaller, the air thick with unspoken fears and questions. A quiet stillness settled between you both, there was a weight to the silence, stretching out the seconds as you waited for whatever words would come next.

“I mean, guess what happened,” you whispered. Before you could finish the sentence, you got up and reached for the zipper on your suitcase pocket. Your hand closed around the large object, and you felt his eyes on the back of your neck, following you as you moved around the hotel room. Returning to the bed, you sat down and handed him the pregnancy test.

Yoongi didn’t know anything about pregnancy tests—he’d never needed to. He’d always been careful, using protection with every girl he’d been with, including you, until things had started to get serious. So no, he wasn’t familiar with the variety of pregnancy tests out there. But now, here he was, staring at a white stick with a tiny screen, showing a clear positive sign, which could only mean one thing.

Yoongi’s hands trembled slightly as he held the pregnancy test, his gaze locked onto the tiny screen, staring at it for a moment, speechless. His heartbeat thundered in his ears, loud enough that he thought you might hear it. Now everything made sense, how you said you were nauseous in the morning, each time you refused to drink wine, how you looked like you were about to cry when you saw a stroller with twins this afternoon at the park. How could he not notice?

You pressed your lips together, feeling the familiar sting of tears welling up once more. A small, shaky hiccup escaped your lips, breaking the silence and snapping him out of his daze. “No, no, no,” He murmured urgently, setting the test aside and pulling you close, lifting you effortlessly onto his lap. His arms wrapped around your waist as you buried your face in your hands, trying to hold back the tears. “Hey, there’s no reason to cry,” He whispered, gently guiding your face up, his fingers lifting your chin as he coaxed your hands away. “C’mon, look at me.” His voice was soft, reassuring, his gaze full of warmth and understanding.

“I don’t know how it happened.” You blurted out, your voice shaking with uncertainty.

“That doesn’t matter now, why didn’t you tell me?” He asked, you could tell he was trying to remain calm by the soft tone of his voice, but his face had gone as white as paper, like he’d just seen a ghost.

“I arranged the flight to see you as soon as possible, but... I was scared. I didn’t know what to say. I still don’t,” you admitted, your words barely a whisper.

“Baby, you don’t have to be scared, okay? You can tell me anything.” He assured you, his hand gently squeezing yours. But the uneasy feeling in your stomach refused to go away.

“I know, but… we haven’t planned for this,” you murmured, glancing down. “It just… came out of nowhere.”

“Well, it didn’t exactly come out of nowhere. These things can happen,” he said gently, a faint smile tugging at his lips. You groaned, burying your face in his chest.

“But it wasn’t supposed to happen,” you whined, your voice muffled against him. “I didn’t expect this at all. I was drowning in work when I found out. I’m stressed, I’m lost, I don’t know what to do… and I miss my mom.” The words tumbled out in a frantic ramble, and you were so caught up in your thoughts that you didn’t even notice the soft laugh he let slip.

“You miss your mom?” he asked softly, careful not to upset you further.

“Yes!” you cried, voice cracking. “I feel like a kid lost in the supermarket.”

He shook his head gently and brushed away your tears with his thumbs, pulling you closer. “Baby…” he began, his tone soothing.

“Yoongi…” you whispered, lifting your head to meet his gaze. His expression was still worried, but the warmth in his eyes was reassuring.

“You’re right, we didn’t plan this. But we’ve talked about it before, and you have options. Whatever you choose, I’ll be right here beside you, no matter what. You know that, don’t you?” He searched your eyes for confirmation, and you nodded, feeling the ache in your chest begin to ease.

As his words sank in, a new wave of emotions stirred inside you. The weight of worry and loneliness began to ease, replaced by a warmth that softened the ache in your chest.

“But… what do you think?” you asked softly. You knew that whatever you decided would ultimately be your choice only, but you needed to know what was going on in his mind.

He sighed, a hint of hesitation in his expression. “I mean… we’re not sixteen, baby. We’re adults, we’re about to buy a house together, and we love each other.”

“Well, those are just facts,” you replied, searching his face. “What I mean is… do you want this, now?”

It was hard for Yoongi to believe you were really asking this. There you were, sitting on his lap with swollen eyes and a red nose from crying, asking him if he wanted to start a family with you—as if that hadn’t been his dream all along. Of course he felt like the life he had been living was going to completely change from now on. It was terrifying, but he couldn’t help but feel excited at the same time.

“I've always wanted it, are you serious?” He laughed, the sound light but filled with disbelief. “And I only want it with you, haven’t I made it clear enough?”

Those were the main differences between the two of you: while he was calm, always taking a moment to think before acting, you were emotional and, more often than not, let your feelings take control of your actions. It was only in that moment that you realized how irrational you’d been. There wasn’t a world where Yoongi didn’t want this, and there certainly wasn’t a world where you didn’t want it either.

“I want it, too,” you whispered, your voice trembling as you fought back tears.

“Then why are you crying, huh?” he asked gently, squeezing your face in an attempt to lighten the mood.

“Because...” you said, struggling to catch your breath. “Maybe you didn’t think it was the right time... You’re on tour right now.”

He frowned, his expression softening with concern. “I won’t be on tour forever...”

“I know, but... we’re not married. What would your parents think?”

He let out a laugh, clearly unable to believe that was a real concern of yours. “You’re not seriously thinking about my parents right now, are you?”

“How could I not?” you said, raising your eyebrows. “What if they force us to marry? God, I don’t want to be one of those couples who only marry because the girl is suddenly pregnant!”

He laughed even harder, shaking his head. “Oh my god, baby, no one’s forcing us to do anything!” He grinned, clearly finding your worry amusing. “If we ever get married, it won’t be because anyone pressured me. Trust me.” He paused, happy to see that the worried expression abandoned your face. “Besides, my parents love you, you have no idea how happy they’ll be once they know. Married or not.”

“Yoongi, it can’t be that simple.”

“But it is.”

You sighed, feeling like all the mess you’d made was for nothing—and thank God it was. You’d been so caught up in your own despair that you hadn’t realized everything in your life was falling into place for this to happen. Yoongi was right. You were about to move into a bigger home, you had your job, Yoongi had his, and you loved each other. You've always wanted it, this was the perfect moment for this to happen. Why had you been so worried?

“You’re right, it is.” You finally admitted, letting your body rest against him.

Yoongi laughed, gently grabbing you by your hips and laying you on the bed, kissing you softly. “You don’t have to worry, baby, not with me.”

“I know.” You breathed out, feeling like a weight was lifted off your shoulders. “But I am-… I’m so scared. How am I gonna have a baby? It sounds crazy.”

“Of course it does, it is.” He said “I’m terrified, too, but we’re together, right? Nothing bad can happen if we have each other.”

You nodded, feeling your chest unclench. “I guess you're right,” you whispered, your voice thick with emotion. “I just... needed to hear you say it.”

Yoongi smiled, leaning down to steal another kiss from you, this time deeper, longer. “I love you, baby, don’t you know that?”

You brushed your nose against his, nodding. “I love you, too, bubba.”

“C’mon, baby, stop crying.” He said, making you laugh.

#fic: so it goes #yoongi x reader #yoongi fanfiction #yoongi fanfic #bts x reader #bts smut #min yoongi fanfic #min yoongi x oc #yoongi fic recs #yoongi imagine #yoongi fluff #yoongi smut #yoongi fic #bts masterpost #bts fic rec #yoongi bts #bts one shot

173 notes · View notes

thvrian · 23 days ago

Text

I just want

➟☾Synopsis: walking after your lover just turns into something more pleasant.

➟☾Pairing: boyfriend!yoongi x reader

➟☾Genre: Smut,fluff

Once you leave your helmet on your motorcycle and head towards the front of the club you see a group of guys and your man.

You get closer and the grin appears on your face when you see his position, he is sitting on a chair with his legs apart, his head down and he looks bad drunk.

Suddenly he lifted his head recognizing your figure and grinned drunkenly.

"Princess" he murmurs and rubs his hands on his thighs "come here" he says and ignores the giggles from the other boys.

You were already in front of him grabbing his hand "We have to go, Yoongi" you say pulling, he doesn't refuse and lets you take him.

"Y/n, can you handle him?" Asks Jimin, one of his friends.

"We'll be fine, thanks. Good night guys." You look at the others and they nod.

Taking Yoongi's hand in yours you pulled him with you to the motorcycle.

"Baby, can we stay a little more?" Yoongi suddenly asks and you frown.

"No" you murmur "it's already late and I have to go to work tomorrow" you take the helmet and hand it over, he looks at you then nods "you won't fall off the bike once I start it, will you?" You ask a little more worried. All he does is nod but you move closer to him.

"Yoongi"

“I'm not that drunk Y/n” he murmured, Y/n ok he's not that drunk.

You both put on your helmets and got on the black motorcycle, Yoongi grabbed your waist, like he always does when he gets behind the bike with you. You feel the warmth of his body on your back, he holds you tight and makes you giggle, he's going to be fine.

The way home is not long, only 10 minutes.

You park the motorcycle, get off safely, then when you think Yoongi won't talk until you get into bed, there he is.

"You're so hot riding the motorcycle" he sings and slaps you on the bottom making you gasp but you know and he knows that you like it. You turn to him and you can't help but smile when you see his sheepish grin.

"Come on, let's go" you say heading towards the entrance of the apartment.

Yoongi's grin never fades when you enter the elevator or walk down the hall.

Once you enter your house you leave your shoes and jacket matching Yoongi's, he quietly follows you into the bedroom.

"Come on, Yoongi, get undressed" you tell him and grab some underwear from the closet.

"I thought you wouldn't say,finally" he grins and takes off his shirt but doesn't undress yet "let me help you baby" he whispers and grabs your blouse in his hands.

"What are you doing?" You ask confused but you know too well what's on his mind.

"I am undressing you?" He's also confused and you can't help but giggle at that.

"I thought you'd just go to the bathroom and we'd finally go to bed, you're drunk" you breathe heavily once he touches your bare skin under your blouse.

"I'm not that drunk" he growls and pulls your blouse off you, meeting your bra and he moistens his lips. "And you're going to let me fuck you, aren't you?" He asked still keeping his eyes on your breasts, you said nothing. Not that you don't want him to do the thing.Yoongi knows what he does always but it's late and tomorrow(today maybe?) you have to go to work.

"Yoongi…" you start but he ignores you, he knows you, he knows you want it so he grabs the back of your bra and pulls it off, he wastes no time, he's already covering your nipple with his sucking mouth making you moan arching your back, his right hand grabs your left breast, squeezing, his left hand holds your waist and pulls you to the bed. He let you lie down on the bed but you still had your feet down on the floor and so did he, he started licking the other nipple, you felt another wave of heat run through your body.

You grabbed his hair arching more for him, he was making dirty noises against your long hardened nipple. Then suddenly he pulls away and you are face down on the bed. Yoongi quickly pulled your pants down, followed by your panties, sending another slap across the bare skin of your ass, the sound it made seemed forbidden.

Your boyfriend sits down on his knees, now face to face with your pussy.He grins when he sees how wet you are and doesn't hesitate to make a remark.

“And to think you could have lost this wetness tonight” he growls but you just bite your lip in anticipation.

He caresses your back and bottom and then holds it in his two hands, he bends his head to finally place an open-mouthed kiss on your entrance. He sticks out his tongue, draws a line from your clit to your entrance, rotates it, kisses ,you moan and squirm with your ass up.

“Yoongi" you moan and lay your head on the bed.

He murmured into your pussy and arched your ass more as he made out with your pussy. You could already feel how close you were, trembling under his touch.

“Damn, dammit, dammit” you curse through clenched teeth and try to rub more against his mouth but he pulls away raising his head higher to kiss your ass cheeks with his mouth open. Oh damn.

"Yoongi?" You grunted and looked back and he was already on his feet looking at your pussy oozing white juices then he looks into your eyes with a face that asks what?

"Can you stop wasting time?" You ask a little annoyed and he clenches his jaw and smacks your bottom hard.

"Don't spoil the fun" he replied and then you felt his fingers at your entrance, he played with it but never really entering. You moaned and bit your bottom lip wanting him to do more because it was already hurting you.

Then he brought his fingers up to your clit cupping and rubbing, your legs shook, a sharp moan coming from the back of your throat, he pressed harder, faster, almost painfully good. You had to reach out for him to stop but he refused your attempt taking both your hands in his left hand holding them above your head, you were sitting in a shameful position, but not for him, he liked it that way.

He rubbed your clit until you saw green stars, you squirmed in your seat but Yoongi continued to grind painfully until you came unfinished. He overstimulates and you cry at that. He took his hands off of you, hearing the rustle of the belt and pants you looked behind you then turned to face him as he removed his boxers revealing that perfect cock you love.

He does not approach you, but climbs into the bed.

He sits with his bottom on the mattress, resting his head on the bed frame, with his cock up.

"Come and ride my cock baby" he murmurs giving himself a few pumps. Of course you don't waste any time and get on the bed then on his lap, he helps you put his cock inside, feeling each other you moan and throw your head back.

He was holding your hips but doing nothing but watching your connected bodies. But you started to move up and down, bringing pleasure, your breasts jumping with each movement, he didn't ignore them and grabbed both breasts with his hands, he squeezed tight and you moaned over and over.

"Fuck yeah" he moaned.

"Damn it"You cry out feeling your climax getting closer with each movement. Your pussy pulsates and flows more and more making wet sounds that made you even hotter.

You finally came on his cock with a sharp moan and you lowered your head as you stopped.

“Come on, I know you can do more” Yoongi murmurs and grabs your hips and makes you move again, the overstimulation hitting again.

You move up and down on his cock, feeling it pulsing and he pulls you deeper and angrier as he cums with a moan. His cum fills the walls and you squirm at the sensation.

"Shit" he closes his eyes still helping you move to get through the high.

You leaned towards him, resting your head on his chest. He stroked your ass and squeezed it.

"We didn't kiss tonight…" he frowned.

"It's because you have alcohol breath" you grin but your smile disappears when he slaps you hard on the bottom.

Then he grabs the back of your neck and pulls you to his open mouth, he kisses you passionately, as if he hasn't kissed you in millennia and he missed you like hell. When he pulls away, he lightly bites your bottom lip. Now you realize that neither you didn't notice the whiskey taste on his tongue.

"We need to shower" you say and get off of him biting your bottom lip at the feeling of emptiness.

Yoongi followed you into the bathroom, because it's impossible to be intimate with him, and you don't ever want to hide from him.

#min yoongi #bts #bts fic #bts army #yoongi x reader #yoongi fanfiction

194 notes · View notes

jjungkookislife · 9 months ago

Text

Tongue Like Candy Pt. 2 [Final]

ღ pairing: yoongi x f. reader

ღ genre: angst with a happy ending, brother's best friend au, smut [18+]

ღ summary: The last person you expect to see at your college graduation is the man who broke your heart three years ago. Despite the heartache you both went through, you can't stay away from each other. Will your brother be the obstacle in your relationship with Yoongi, or will it work out this time?

ღ wc: 15.8k

ღ warnings: pet names (princess, baby, babe), virgin!reader, age gap, sexual thoughts, corruption kink, self-deprecation, jealousy, masturbation, alcohol mention/use, food mention, mention of jimin x f. reader, hair pulling, marking (hickeys, biting, scratching), dry humping, shared shower, shirt used as a mouth gag, choking, fingering (f. receiving), oral sex (f. giving and receiving), protected sex, first time

ღ Date: March 9, 2024

ღ read part one here

And despite the ache in your heart that lingers and stings for the next three years, that’s exactly what happens.

It was just a one-time thing.

“Fucking finally!” you throw your cap in the air to the mix with everyone else’s not caring where yours landed before you push through the graduates to get a head start in leaving— ducking, and dodging professors on your quest to the door.

You had agreed to meet your family in the car, not wanting to spend an hour or more searching for them in the crowd of parents who are looking for their graduate as well. Nah, you had learned from high school.

“You should have tried out for track. I could barely keep up, princess.” You freeze, not wanting to turn around because you knew that voice anywhere and if you turned to face him, it would mean he was here for you and you’re not sure you could cope.

The last time you had seen him was well over three years ago. You had made it a point to avoid him at all costs, even turning down gatherings with your brother so you wouldn’t be bombarded by the events that had transpired on the night following your graduation party.

You couldn’t escape him, couldn’t run anywhere. With a deep breath, you turn around to face him for the first time, and it’s no shock when he takes your breath away.

“Yoongi.” his name rolls off your tongue easily, your heart hammering against your ribcage.

“Wow!” he exclaims, cheeks turning pink right after. “You’re even more beautiful than I remember.”

You wish you could respond, say thank you, say anything. You’re unable to, taken aback by his beauty. This man only gets more and more scrumptious with age, huh? The last time you’d seen him, his hair had been orange—a menace to society. Now, his hair was back to black and deliciously long; you couldn’t help but think he was hot as fuck with his natural hair color.

“Thank you,” you murmur, feeling overwhelmed. You look past him, seeing the doors open to let the parents out, and you know you’ll have a buffer in just a few minutes.

“I hope it’s okay that I’m here. Your brother invited me, and I know we haven’t talked since…” Yoongi trails off, licking his lips. He runs his hand through his hair and you notice that he’s gotten much buffer since the last time you saw him, his suit jacket straining on his biceps. You remember what he’d felt like on top of you, cock rubbing against your wet cunt.

“Since you fucked my mouth,” you finish, instantly regretting it when his eyes widen and his jaw drops.

“Geez, princess. I wasn’t gonna be that crude about it,” Yoongi laughs, shaking his head. Good to know you hadn’t changed a bit since he stuffed his cock in your mouth, as you so politely reminded him.

“Yikes!” you grimace, smiling sheepishly after.

Yoongi laughs, throwing his head back. “You haven’t changed a bit, huh?”

“Not really,” you shrug. “Other than cutting my hair.”

“It’s cute,” Yoongi is quick to say.

“Thanks. And thanks for coming. You didn’t have to.”

“I wouldn’t have missed it for the world, princess. I’ve missed you,” he admits easily with a shrug, and your heart thumps extra heavily.

You’re unsure what demon possesses you, because you step forward, forgetting about all your conflicting feelings as you wrap your arms around his neck, lips pressed to his. It takes Yoongi by surprise, but his arms easily find their way around your waist, kissing you back just as eagerly.

Just like that, the chemistry between you sparks once again. Yoongi holds you tight in his embrace, lips moving in sync with yours as your fingers toy with his hair, just as soft as you remember. You want to drown in his essence, kiss him within an inch of his life as your body arouses feelings you haven’t experienced since that fateful day.

“I-” you start as you unwrap yourself from Yoongi, taking a step back to put some much-needed distance between you.

“Hey, brat! Congrats!” Your brother cheers as he approaches you. He tugs you into a hug and you wonder if he witnessed your exchange with his best friend.

“Hey! Thanks, I’m so happy to be done with school. I busted my ass to graduate a year early.” you smile as your parents join you.

The five of you take pictures, soon joined by Jimin and Taehyung, who bring along their families. And like your high school graduation, there’s a party at your house tonight with all your friends and family invited. That includes Yoongi.

Over the past three years, you’ve managed to avoid him completely, which was easy, considering your brother wasn’t in town too often. Plus, being a college student meant you spent a lot of your time on campus, so even if your brother was in for a (short) visit, you could use school as an excuse.

Should you have talked to Yoongi? Sure. You probably could have found any of his socials if you tried, but it’s not like he was reaching out either. Your brother was more important than some romp in your room, of that you were sure. So why did it sting to know Yoongi wasn’t calling?

To make matters worse, the moment you step into your home, you’re left alone in the hallway with Yoongi. His gaze follows yours, staring at your bedroom door, his cheeks flushing as he looks away, only to lock eyes with you.

So many thoughts run through Yoongi’s head, so many unspoken words he wishes he could have said, and yet, there’s nothing but silence.

It’s in this silence that his thoughts stray, memories of that night seeping into the forefront of his mind.

The beating of his heart reverberates against his chest like a rhythmic drum, and the warmth that spreads through his veins is nearly too much, but the feel of your mouth on him easily combats that, yearning for more heat.

Your kisses are still a little awkward, but you mimic his movements easily, even brushing your tongue against his and taking a nip of his bottom lip. He notes the way you moan against him when he groans deep in his chest, arousal wetting your thighs.

When you take his cock in your mouth, he says your name in a way that would embarrass him if he were with anyone else. He doesn’t think of himself as a Casanova, but every girl is a new experience, and when it’s with someone you have feelings for—whatever they may be—it’s out of this world. He doesn’t want his heart to get in the way of whatever this is because you’re batting your lashes and pouting when he doesn’t react right away to the languid movement of your hand on his length.

A pouty frown sits on your pretty lips, tongue peeking to lick at them as you wait for him to give you his undivided attention once again. You’re so pretty on your knees, drooling over his cock, the excitement of doing more evident on your face.

By no means was this the best blowjob he's ever gotten, but what you lacked in skill you made up in enthusiasm. Besides, how could Yoongi ever compare you to anyone else when you were the only one who had his heart beating as rapidly as it was, new feelings arousing in him that he’d never felt before? You were incomparable.

“Make yourself at home,” your brother shouts from the top of the stairs, and you use that chance to run off to your bedroom, avoiding being in Yoongi’s presence for the time being. You know you won’t be able to avoid him for too long, but you just need a moment to catch your breath.

Yoongi watches you run off, wincing when the bedroom door slams shut and he’s left alone. Sure, he’s been in your home since that night, but never with you still in it. There had always been some excuse when Yoongi came around, some paper, some midterm, some way to avoid him.

You were always in his thoughts, from the moment he woke until the moment he went to bed, sometimes with his hand wrapped around his hard cock, reminiscing about your lips.

Day and night he tried to get his thoughts together, to piece every bit of himself into a picture, map out all his feelings, and decipher them before he made an even bigger mistake.

Yoongi typed up what he wanted to say to you in his notes app, locked for his eyes only, but courage always failed him. Time and time again, he’d copy the words, all ingrained in his mind as he hovered over your Instagram, wishing he wasn’t such a sucker and could just send the damn message. Back and forth he went each day, thoughts growing darker and darker.

You’re bothering her.

She doesn’t like you.

Leave her alone.

Despite those thoughts, Yoongi finds himself in front of your bedroom door, his fist raised to knock when the door opens, startling you and him.

“I-” he starts, looking at you as he licks his lips. Your gaze catches his lips, your hand reaching out for his shirt, tugging him into your bedroom before shutting the door after him.

“Yoongi,” you breathe his name, lips on his instantly as you push him onto your bed. Yoongi grips your waist, kissing you back as you settle over his lap.

This is wrong.

There’s so much left unsaid.

You need to leave.

His thoughts overwhelm him and he’s pulling away slowly, regretfully. He doesn’t miss the disappointed look that flashes across your face before you put your defenses back up.

Yoongi watches you as you get off his lap and move across the room. You’re pacing back and forth, and he eyes you warily. Of course, he’d love to smother you in kisses and hold you in his arms. Take you to bed until his name is all you can say, but he can’t.

“I’m sorry,” you apologize, and his eyes widen as he meets your gaze. “I shouldn’t have kissed you at graduation or now.”

“Princess,” he starts, but you cut him off.

“I’m sure you have better things to do than be here with me. I won’t let this happen again. I'm sorry.”

“Princess, just let me talk to you. There’s nothing to apologize for unless you’re dating someone?” Yoongi’s words feel like a knife is in his throat as he says them, and he bites his lip as he awaits your answer.

“No.” you shake your head. As if there could ever be anyone else when you’ve spent the last three years dreaming of seeing him again, of kissing him.

Okay, there was that brief make-out session with Jimin that one time, but that was just for fun. Yoongi doesn’t have to know about that.

“No?” Yoongi repeats, almost hopeful. He swallows thickly, running a hand through his hair, and he doesn’t miss the way your eyes follow the movement. He clenched his hands, veins prominent, and smirks when you nearly salivate over it.

“Has there been anyone since?” It’s none of his business. He knows it’s none of his business, but fuck, he wants to know. He needs to know if anyone else has touched you like he did—if they’ve fallen for you as he had, and if they still think of you.

“Yes,” you answer, and his world shakes. That’s not the answer he was expecting, but he knows it was bound to happen after all.

“Oh,” his dejected sigh fills the space between you.

“It didn’t mean anything. It’s stupid, so stupid,” you laugh as you grip your hair in your hands and squeeze. “But I haven’t been able to get you out of my head since and I thought kissing someone else would fix it but it didn’t. Nothing ever did, and it hurts, Yoongi. It hurts to know we couldn’t have been anything, and it hurts to know I was so easy to forget.”

Yoongi stands. “Easy to forget?”

You nod.

“Easy to forget?” He repeats with a scoff. “If you’re so easy to forget, why have I been thinking about you every day since then? Why have I been hoping you’d call or message me, so I could see you again? You dodged every opportunity you could to see me and I thought that’s what you wanted, so I backed off. After all, I wasn’t trying to force my way into your life. But you are in no way easy to forget and if that’s what you think, then I haven’t done a good job of proving just how unforgettable you are, princess.”

You’re utterly stunned by his words. You blink, moving on autopilot as you grip him by the shirt, only hesitating for a split second before his hands grip your face. The heated stare he rewards you with leaves you breathless. The last time you’d seen him looking this intent, this serious, was that night in your bedroom and as those thoughts come to mind, you slam your lips on his.

Your lips are on his instantly, moving perfectly with his in a more practiced way than before. Yoongi bites back the jealousy he feels because you weren’t his and whoever taught you this was a figureless head in his mind. However, that does little to quell the jealousy that bubbles deep in his abdomen as his fingers grip your hair to hold you in place.

Yoongi allows you to lead after a beat, curious to see what else you’ve learned in his absence. His hands grab your hips, holding you to him as your tongue prods his lips apart when he makes no move to do so.

For a few moments, you allow yourself to forget all the pain and sorrow you went through. Kissing Yoongi feels just like the first time, but so much better. This time you’re not fumbling around, wondering if you’re doing it correctly or if it’s a massive failure. This time you kiss him with confidence, your fingers threading through his hair as you pull him close, teeth gently nipping on his bottom lip just to hear him groan, ending the kiss so he can press his forehead to yours. His gaze burns deep into your soul, and you wonder how you could have lived without this man for so long. Feelings you swear you buried away begin to rise to the surface, and as you keep your gaze locked on his, you realize just how fucked you are, because this time—this time—you know you won’t recover from the heartbreak again.

“Yoongi?!” You both step away from each other at the sound of your brother’s voice. Your heart is thundering in your chest and Yoongi echoes it. He runs a hand through his hair, looking in the mirror in your bedroom before he slowly opens your bedroom door.

Your brother is at the top of the stairs, calling out to Yoongi again.

“Coming!” Yoongi looks at you one last time, a frown on his lips. Would it always be like this?

“Go,” you mouth, and he nods. He hesitates, but Yoongi gets called again.

He curses, “I’ll talk to you tonight, princess. Please wait up.”

You nod before urging him to go. Your brother’s footsteps are growing louder as he rounds the landing.

“Dude, what took you so long?” Your brother asks, annoyed, as he finally looks up from his phone. “I need help getting the drinks in the cooler. Let’s go!”

“Sorry, I had to go to the bathroom.” Yoongi shrugs but follows your brother out of the house and to the car.

You watch them go, shutting your bedroom door and leaning against it. Your lips still tingle from his kiss, and you hate yourself for feeling this way again. You had never really moved on from Yoongi or from that night. You had tried fooling yourself into believing you had, but seeing him again, kissing him, brought back all those feelings tenfold and you knew you were screwed.

Fuck Min Yoongi.

“Babe! Why are you hiding in here?” Taehyung asks as he steps into your bedroom hours later. You’d hidden for most of the night, which was unusual, seeing as it was a party to celebrate you.

“You know this party is for you, right?” Jimin asks as he follows Tae and shuts the door after himself.

“It’s for you guys too,” you answer weakly as you lay back on your bed. You miss the look of concern exchanged between both your friends as they climb onto the bed. Jimin on your left and Taehyung on your right.

“Okay, spill it,” Jimin demands as he turns to his side, resting his elbow on the bed and his head in his palm

“Yeah, and don’t even think about lying,” Taehyung states firmly, knowing his bull shit meter will catch it.

“Yoongi kissed me,” you admit softly.

Jimin raises a brow. “At your last graduation? We know that.”

“Is the party bringing back memories?” Taehyung asks curiously.

“No. I mean, he kissed me. Today,” you emphasize.

“Wait.” Jimin hops off your bed. “That bastard’s here?”

Taehyung gets off the bed as well, heading to your bedroom door before you scramble to stop them.

“Stop! Don’t go out there.”

“He kisses you and then leaves you again? I’m rocking his shit up! He can’t do that to you again! We won’t allow it!” Jimin is fuming. Taehyung nods in agreement. You had been broken up about that night and not seeing Yoongi after. You wallowed in your sadness, wondering if you hadn’t been good enough or if he hated you. Your best plan of action was to avoid him at all costs, which you did successfully until today.

Jimin and Taehyung had been around to pick up the pieces and glue them back together. They hated how this situation had affected you. They knew you couldn’t separate your actions from your feelings and, try as you might, your denials just proved empty. Because you did have feelings for Min Yoongi. You always had and your little diary proved it and it was cemented further that night. It may not have meant much to Yoongi, having been more experienced, but it meant something to you.

Yoongi was the first and only one you had gone that far with. Sure, you had made out with Jimin once, but it didn’t compare to Yoongi. Don’t tell Jimin, though.

“He wants to talk later,” you whisper.

Taehyung clicks his tongue. “So he can leave for another 3 years? I don’t think so.”

“He’s right, babe. We can’t keep you from doing what you want. And we’ll support your decisions, but just tread lightly, okay? Don’t fall for his charms so easily,” Jimin warns before he’s wrapping you up in a hug.

“You’re our baby.”

“I love you guys. Now go out and have fun. I’m gonna freshen up and meet you out there, okay?” You force a smile and they nod, kissing your cheek before stepping out of your bedroom.

Jimin and Tae remain at your side for a while until you’re caught in a conversation with relatives, and you forget about Yoongi even being in attendance. You decide to enjoy yourself and worry about him tomorrow.

Or so you thought.

With an empty cup, you head to the kitchen for a refill. You’re quite surprised to see it’s vacant as you go to the counter to make a drink.

“Have you been avoiding me?” you curse when you hear his voice. Hands shaking with nerves, you slowly turn around to face Yoongi.

He’s leaning against the entryway, a smug smile on his lips, but you know better. He’s putting on a cool facade for you, but his eyes betray him. Yoongi looks over his shoulder, making sure the coast is clear before stepping further into the kitchen.

“Nope.” you shrug, turning your attention to your drink. “Just busy.”

“Hmm.”

“Did you need something?” you ask, bringing your drink to your lips. Yoongi watches you intently before he takes the cup from your hands and sets it back on the counter.

“I need you,” he whispers before his lips are on yours. Immediately, your hands grip his shirt to pull him closer, a whimper escaping you when he’s got you pressed to the counter and his hands grip your waist.

“Yoongi,” his name slips from your lips, forgetting for a moment that things were rocky between you. Why couldn’t you just forget and let live?

“Kiss me,” he pleads in a low, needy tone that makes your head spin.

So you kiss him.

Again, and again, and once more for good measure.

Yoongi moans your name softly, making your body burn with desire as your fingers tug on his hair. He curses, his cock twitching in his pants as his hands squeeze your waist. What he wouldn’t do to kiss you from head to toe, spend every moment from now until morning devouring you while you call out his name.

“Fuck,” he curses, licking his lips as you pant, trying to catch your breath. Yoongi grins, thankful he’s had the same effect on you as you did on him.

There’s so much he’d like to say, so much he wishes he could tell you, but like always, he’ll have to wait as footsteps fill the hall.

Yoongi steps away, busying himself by getting a drink while you open the fridge to hide your face. It would easily give you away.

“There you are! I swear you’re hiding from me tonight,” your brother jokes as he leans against the fridge, completely ignoring Yoongi as he chugs his drink.

“Just needed a drink. You know how Aunt May gets at parties,” you lie but your brother laughs.

“Did she tell you the vacation story again?” he asks with a shake of his head.

“Yes, but she gave me a check, so I listened for once,” you giggle, showing him the check your aunt wrote for you.

“Nice,” your brother hugs you. “I think everyone’s wrapping up, if you wanna go say bye.”

“I should do that,” you agreed quickly, going around your brother to leave.

“We’ll have lunch tomorrow! I’m staying the night until my apartment is ready!” he calls. You throw a thumbs up over your head to acknowledge him before scurrying away from Yoongi’s heated gaze.

It’s almost an hour later before you’re back in your bedroom. You’ve taken a shower, put your pajama shorts on, and another oversized shirt you’ve stolen from the pile of Yoongi’s in your brother’s closet. You’ve managed to grow your collection while your brother’s been gone, and now nearly every shirt of Yoongi’s sits hidden in the last drawer of your dresser, just beneath your other pajamas.

When you get in bed, you’re not too surprised when there’s a light knock on your door. Nerves bubble up inside you as you get out of bed as quietly as possible.

You know your parents have gone with your Aunt May for the night. She always has too many glasses of wine and your parents like to make sure she’s okay, often staying the night and having brunch in the morning. The only one home and upstairs in bed is your brother, his loud snores fill the home.

Slowly, you turn the doorknob, opening the door to see Yoongi.

“Hey,” he greets you in a whisper. You grip him by the shirt, tugging him into your bedroom. He stumbles over his feet before you shut the door to press him against it.

Yoongi grunts when his back meets the wood, cock twitching immediately as your lips press against his. Yoongi is caught off guard but his hands cup your face and before you know it, it’s you that’s pressed against the door.

“Yoongi,” you moan his name just like he remembers, cock throbbing in the confines of his jeans. He kisses you deeper, drinking you in as his tongue brushes yours.

“Fuck, princess,” he groans as he kisses his way to your neck, teeth nipping and sucking at the sensitive skin. His mark is left behind, soothed by his fiery tongue as he moves downward, hands gripping the shirt you’ve stolen from him. At this point, it’s all he ever wants to see you in.

With ease, Yoongi kisses you as he leads you to your bed. He drops when the back of his knees hits the mattress, taking you with him. You squeal in surprise, giggling when he kisses you to muffle your sounds.

“We need to be quiet,” he reminds you. You nod, licking your lips as you move to straddle him, lacing your fingers with his as you press his hands over his head, grinding down on him. Yoongi moans your name, eyes fluttering shut as he enjoys your hips moving together.

Fuck, he was supposed to be talking to you, not grinding on you.

“Baby,” he breathes, throwing his head back when you grind on him harder, biting back moans as you release his hands to grip your tits. Fuck, why was he stopping this?

“We need to talk,” he reminds you as you kiss his neck, teeth sinking into his skin and your tongue laving over it to soothe the sting. Fuck, his head is spinning. This is everything he’s been dreaming of and more.

“So talk,” you say as you grip his shirt, tugging it over his head. Yoongi is malleable beneath you, at your mercy as you have your way with him. He’s so lost in you, intoxicated by your scent, your lips, your hips.

Yoongi enjoys himself for a moment longer before he kisses your lips and gently pushes you off his lap. He cards a hand through his hair, a small smile on his lips. “Talk, princess.”

You bite your lip. “I’d rather kiss.”

Yoongi chuckles. “So would I.”

You grin, reaching for him again, and Yoongi allows you to steal one kiss before he scoots away.

“We need to talk, baby. I don’t want there to be any misunderstandings between us. Not again. It hurt too much to be away from you for so long, and now that I have you in front of me, I realize just how much I missed you. How much I wish I had chased after you or at the very least, said something.” Yoongi clears his throat, he notes the way you’ve stiffened.

“I wanted to talk to you, Yoongi. Every time I tried, I thought of my brother. I thought of you not reaching out. I thought it was better this way,” you shrug, hiding your face in your hands.

“Princess,” Yoongi pulls you to his side. “I didn’t know you wanted me to. You avoided me after, and I was scared I had overstepped. I haven’t gone a day without thinking of you, of wishing I could have you in my arms just like this.”

You melt, kissing his cheek. “So, where do we go from here?”

“I want to be with you, princess. I want to take you out. I want to spoil the fuck out of you. I want you to be mine,” Yoongi admits as he caresses your face. You feel like you’re falling for him all over again, your heart thumping wildly in your chest as you wrap your arms around his neck.

“I’d love nothing more,” you smile widely, kissing his face again and again until he’s chuckling. His hands grip your waist, allowing you to kiss him as much as you want. You eventually kiss his lips, drowning in him until your back meets your bed, and he’s hovering over you.

“Yoongi,” his name rolls off your tongue in a heady tone that drives him insane, his hips grinding down on yours as you spread your legs for him, welcoming him in between. He hisses, cursing as his hair falls over his eyes and he huffs a breath as you brush it away, tugging at the roots to make him moan.

“Don’t start something you can’t finish,” he teases with a smirk.

“Who says I won’t finish it?” you goad him and he licks his lips.

“Fuck, you have no idea what you do to me, baby. I want you so bad.” he kisses you again, sucking on your bottom lip as your hands move down to his body, nails digging into his shoulders.

His name escapes you as his lips suck on the sensitive skin of your throat. Your fingers tug at his hair, making him groan against you. You want him desperately, hoping you’ll get all of him tonight, but you both freeze when your brother's snoring stops and his footsteps echo upstairs.

“Fuck, fuck,” Yoongi pulls away, a hand carding through his mused hair. He looks at you with wide eyes as he bites his lip.

This is not how you wanted your brother to find out.

You both stay still, not making a sound until you hear the footsteps again and minutes later when the toilet flushes. Moments later, the snores resume.

“Fuck,” Yoongi chuckles nervously. His hands tremble as he looks at you. He bites his lip nervously, his hands going into his pockets. “I should go to the couch.”

You don’t say a word as he grabs his shirt and tugs it back on. You watch him awkwardly from your bed, biting your lip. Yoongi walks over to you, gently pressing a kiss to your lips.

“Goodnight, princess.”

Morning comes sooner than you’d like. Your brother’s loud music and off-key singing greet you the moment your eyes open. At least someone’s in a good mood, you think.

Groaning, you huff as you rub your eyes. You’re tired, having slept very little, thinking about every word exchanged with Yoongi. After deciding not to overthink, your mind filled with every kiss, every touch you exchanged and that led to your hand between your legs, softly moaning his name. You hated that he was just on the other side of your bedroom door, unable (and unwilling?) to do anything about it with your brother upstairs. But what did you expect? He’d run out of here the last time the two of you had been together, just like this. You couldn’t keep getting your hopes up. Three years ago you decided your brother was more important, so you’d write last night off as a one-time thing, again.

“Wake up!” Your brother shouts as he knocks on your bedroom door. You curse at him, groaning as you get out of bed. You hit your palm on the door in answer, enough for your brother to leave you alone while you go to the bathroom to brush your teeth. You look at your reflection, cringing when you see a small hickey on your neck. Damn Yoongi.

You head to your closet to change your shirt before opening your bedroom door and heading to the kitchen.

Yoongi is at the stove with your brother, a spatula in his hand a second before he’s swatting your brother. “Don’t touch it!”

“It’s going to be burned!” your brother protests, but Yoongi swats his hand again and the two argue back and forth, only turning when you open the fridge door to grab the juice.

“Good morning,” Your brother grins. You grunt as Yoongi chuckles.

“Still not a morning person?” Yoongi laughs and you flip him off.

“Anyway,” your brother rolls his eyes. “I’m getting my apartment keys tomorrow so I can start moving in.”

“Congrats!” You exclaim as you take a seat on a stool.

“Everything I own is in storage and Steph ordered a couch on Tuesday. Our bed will be there tomorrow afternoon, so I just need to move in with my stuff.” Your brother explains.

“When do I get a tour?” You ask as you try your best to avoid looking at Yoongi. Your brother shrugs.

“You wouldn’t need a tour if you’d gone to Yoongi’s place that one time I invited you,” your brother laughs, turning to smack Yoongi on the shoulder.

“Yoongi’s place?” You choke out.

“Yeah?” Your brother quirks his head. “Did I not mention it was in his building?”

“No,” you swallow thickly, reaching for your glass of juice to gulp it down. By the stove, Yoongi is gripping the spatula harder than necessary, the egg for gyeran bap sizzling on the pan. Perhaps he should have said something?

“Yoongi got me in with the landlord,” your brother grins. “I can’t wait to move in with Steph. It’s nice to be home after traveling so much. It’s exhausting.”

“When are you proposing?” You smile mischievously as your brother whips his head. He rubs the back of his neck and Yoongi smirks behind him. Your brother had met Steph on one of his trips home, they’d been together for almost three years now.

Your brother pats his pocket and out comes a small black velvet box.

“Shut up!” You shout as you set your glass down on the counter with a thud. Yoongi chuckles as he turns the stove off and begins plating the food.

“I had Yoongi help me pick it out,” your brother admits as he opens the box, and a gorgeous ring sits nestled in the middle.

“Oh, she’s gonna flip!” You squeal as you jump up and down. Your brother laughs, shutting the box in case your excitement knocks the ring out of his hands.

“I’m gonna wait until we’re settled in our apartment before proposing,” your brother explains as he thanks Yoongi with a nod when he places the food in front of the two of you. “So don’t go opening that big mouth of yours, brat!”

Offended, you place your hand on your chest. “Me?!”

“You’re easy to read,” Yoongi says with a shrug as he takes a bite of his food. “Plus, you’re not as quiet as you think.”

You stare at him, mouth agape as he meets your gaze, fiery and knowing. Perhaps he had heard you last night…

“See, he knows what I’m talking about,” your brother is oblivious as he eats his food. “I wanna tell Mom and Dad first and of course plan it out perfectly and that’s going to take a while.”

“We’ll help with whatever you need!” You exclaim and Yoongi laughs.

“I’m being volunteered to help?”

“Yes!” You huff with a roll of your eyes. “Why wouldn’t you? You got plans?”

“Nope,” Yoongi chuckles before turning to your brother. “You know I’ll help with whatever you need. Just say the word.”

“Thanks, man,” your brother smiles brightly. “And of course, I’ll help with whatever you need when it’s your turn.”

You freeze, looking away from Yoongi to stare down at your plate. A short silence follows and Yoongi scrounges up a passing smile.

“Uh, thanks.”

Your brother nods, groaning when his phone rings on the counter. He answers it immediately and is soon rushing off when he’s informed his apartment key is ready today if he wants it early, but he’s got an hour to pick it up before the landlord leaves for the day.

“I’ll be back, maybe. Steph and I want to get some of her stuff in there today from her parents’ house so I might be back later. Mom and Dad are still with Aunt May so I’ll text you!”

Your brother waves and before you can blink, you hear his car peeling out of the driveway, music blasting loud enough to rattle the windows. You’re sure your neighbors will be glad when he’s gone.

Silence fills your home after your brother’s gone. You wash the dishes and head to your room to change, finding Yoongi has done the same.

Eyeing you hungrily, Yoongi takes in every bit of skin showing where your dress ends just above your knees. He smiles when he sees how flustered you’ve become, turning your head just to avoid his gaze but display the small mark he left last night.

Biting his lip, he keeps himself from saying something explicit, offering you a compliment before asking about your plans.

“I was going to head outside to clean up any mess left behind,” you shrug and Yoongi follows you toward your backyard.

Most of it is clean but a few cups and plastic cutlery litter the ground. You’re thankful nothing nasty has fallen into the pool and you debate inviting Tae and Jimin over for a swim.

“The party was fun last night,” Yoongi comments as he picks up a trash bag left sitting on a table.

“Yeah, Jimin almost convinced my mom to do body shots off him,” you roll your eyes in annoyance, glad you were able to swoop in and escort your mother away.

Yoongi’s laughter fills the air, his eyes closed as his head is thrown back. His hand rests on his stomach as it begins to ache.

“I would have paid money to see that,” he says once he’s controlled his laughter but it still lingers in his words.

“Yoon!” You whine, shoving him playfully. “That’s my mother.”

“She knows how to have a good time,” Yoongi smiles smugly and you huff.

“Gonna get her to do body shots off of you at the next party then,” you grumble.

Yoongi grins wolfishly and you shove him again. He cackles when you try a third time and miss his chest; his hand wraps around your wrist before he raises it to his lips to kiss your skin.

“I’m kidding,” Yoongi says with a gummy smile that makes your heart flip in your chest. You could melt just looking at him.

The late spring heat begins to get to you as you ignore him and finish cleaning up. He’s got a shit-eating grin the whole time, satisfied with himself for annoying you. It reminds him of the times you’d hang around him, always with a quip at the ready to shut him or your brother down. It’s good to know he can still get under your skin and take what he gives out just like he does with you.

“Here,” you growl as you shove a cold water bottle into his hands once you’re done cleaning up the backyard. He thanks you, taking the lid off and squeezing it harder than necessary to splash you and himself in the process.

“Min Yoongi!” You scream his name as you step back and start pulling at your sundress, thankful you’ve put on a bathing suit underneath it.

“Whoops, sorry,” Yoongi shrugs as he sips his water and you snatch it from him to spray him with it. His shirt clings to his body and you stare with lustful eyes as Yoongi simply takes it off.

“See something you like?” He asks cheekily as he steps closer to you but you’re left speechless and frozen in your spot. Your body is warm, from the heat or Yoongi—you’re unsure— as you do the first thing that comes to mind.

A splash is heard as you jump into the pool. Yoongi is left flabbergasted in his spot before he joins you with a cannonball right beside you.

“You’re insufferable,” You hiss as you wipe the water off your face. Yoongi swims closer to you until he’s but a hair's breadth away.

“And yet you still like me, princess.”

Laughter is the first thing your brother hears as he opens the front door. He’s in a hurry, having realized halfway to the landlord’s office that he’s forgotten his wallet.

Normally, he wouldn’t worry about it but he was told to bring his ID to pick up his keys. So he turned around and rushed home taking a few yellow lights that may have been turning red by the time he crossed the intersection.

He knows exactly where to find his wallet (on the coffee table), having tossed it there before helping Yoongi cook, assuring himself he wouldn’t forget it if he had to go out, but alas here he is.

The back door of his home is slightly ajar and he’s about to scold you when he hears you and Yoongi’s distinct laughter. He grabs his wallet off the coffee table and heads to the back door where he pauses.

You and Yoongi are laughing, splashing each other with water, and climbing out of the pool just to cannonball back in. Your brother smiles, shaking his head as he notes how the two of you steal glances at each other.

He may be overprotective but he wasn’t an idiot. He could see the way you looked at his best friend and it wasn’t until the past year that he noted the way Yoongi would look at you. Well, not you but pictures of you that your brother would show him whenever he was back in town.

“She’s going on vacation with Jimin and Tae,” he remembers telling Yoongi the last time as he sat on Yoongi’s old gray couch. “They’re going to some beach resort.”

Yoongi had nearly ripped the phone out of his hand to see the pictures. Your smile is bright and wide in every photo. It all made sense then, the brightness in Yoongi’s eyes but sadness still lingered in the dark depths. Perhaps it wasn’t his place to stand between you if it meant the two of you could be happy.

But nothing ever changed.

You still avoided Yoongi at every chance and as hard as your brother tried to get the ball rolling, it didn’t. You were busy. Always so busy, too busy for him and too busy for Yoongi.

Now stumbling into the both of you alone, he wonders if something was there, if it always was and he was just unaware.

He feels like he’s intruding now. He’s gotten what he came for and he shuts the door when you squeal Yoongi’s name once again after he’s splashed you. He smiles to himself as he takes his leave.

“You’re so annoying!” You yell when the water hits your face once again. This time you were swimming laps and Yoongi was ahead of you, kicking his feet harder than necessary just to splash more water in your face and causing you to lose.

Yoongi smirks when he reaches the end of the pool, waiting for you to arrive before he climbs out.

“Thought you were the captain of the swim team,” Yoongi shrugs, a teasing smile on his lips as you finally reach him.

You pull yourself out of the pool to sit beside him, glaring.

“I was the towel girl! And only because Jimin was on the team,” you grumble, shoving him to the side when his smile grows wider.

“Come on, Little Mermaid, let’s get you inside,” Yoongi rises to his feet, offering you his hand that you swat away. He rolls his eyes, picking up his shirt from the ground and your dress as you get up and join him.

Yoongi leads you inside the house, puddles forming on the floor where you walk.

“We’re making a mess,” you groan.

“We’ll clean it up,” he assures you.

“Come on, it’ll be easier if we contain it to one floor,” you take Yoongi’s hand and he stumbles after you as you lead him to your bedroom, locking the door and leading him to your bathroom.

Yoongi’s heart is racing. He bites his lip as he watches you turn the shower on. When you start to take off your swimsuit, he turns his back to you.

“I can wait my turn in the room. I’ll just need a towel to dry off with,” he says nervously.

“Get in, Yoongi,” you demand as you step into the shower, hot water enveloping your body and making you groan.

Yoongi hesitates for a moment before you speak again. “It’s nothing you haven’t seen already.”

Yoongi’s face flushes with heat. He slowly takes his board shorts off and steps in with you. Your eyes are closed as you stay under the water and a shiver runs down his spine.

Slowly, your eyes open and your hands reach for him. You smile softly when water soaks him, his hair sticking to his forehead as he smiles at you.

You’re still unsure of where you stand, still cycling through your feelings, and knowing this path could lead you to happiness but also despair once again. You’re not sure you could overcome this heartbreak again but with Yoongi standing in front of you in silence, lost in those same thoughts, you kiss him to silence them.

There’s no rush in your kiss, no urgency, nothing but soft lips and whimpered moans. Yoongi cups your face gently, delicately, almost afraid you’ll break if he lets go. Your hands rest on his shoulders, warm and wet underneath your palms as your lips part for him. A muffled moan leaves you, a groan soon after when your back meets the iciness of the wall behind you.

Yoongi’s palm hits the wall with a soft slap. His fingers grip your chin to tilt your head upward, exposing more of your neck as his lips trail wet kisses downward.

“I’ve missed you,” Yoongi admits quietly against your skin. You’re positive his words weren’t meant for you to hear but you hold him tighter.

“I wanted to reach out,” you say with a shaky breath. “But he was so glad there was nothing between us. Every time I tried, I thought of him and closed myself off. I figured it would be easier to forget you but it never was.”

“Baby,” Yoongi’s tone is soft, his gaze blurry as tears fill your eyes and his.

“I’m sorry,” you sniffle, shaking your head as he hugs you. You don’t want to let him go, not again. Your brother will have to understand, he’ll just have to, and if not…

“Don’t think about it right now, okay? We can talk to him together or I can do it alone. There’s no rush, princess. He’s not going anywhere,” Yoongi kisses the top of your head.

Gently, he wipes your tears before he’s washing your hair. His fingers massage your scalp, humming as he goes. He helps you wash your body, no touch leading to more and you shyly return the favor in between kisses and serene smiles.

Though you still feel apprehensive about moving forward, you trust that this time will be different. Maybe you’ve become an optimist or maybe you just want to fool yourself into thinking so. Whatever it may be, you hope you’re not left standing on your own in the end.

After your shower, you dry off in your bedroom. You’ve put one of Yoongi’s shirts on and he’s borrowed a pair of shorts you’d stolen from him.

“I want those back,” you tell him as you get in bed with him beside you.

“Aren’t you just a little thief,” he scoffs as he wraps around you to pull you close. Your head rests on his bare chest, your index finger tracing patterns on his skin.

“It’s all I had,” you murmur, ignoring the ache in your throat from unshed tears.

“I have more clothes at home for you to take,” he promises, rubbing your shoulder.

“I’ll take a bag with me, then,” you sneer. He pinches your thigh playfully.

“Hey!”

“Swiper, no swiping!”

“Aw. Man!” You laugh, poking Yoongi in the ribs. He winces, sticking his tongue out at you before you’re both startled by his phone vibrating on your nightstand.

Your brother’s name appears on the screen and you both freeze. Carefully, Yoongi untangles himself from you before answering the call, selecting speakerphone and placing his finger over his lips.

“Hello?”

“Hey, go home and grab an overnight bag. It’s my last night at home and I want to spend it with you and my sister.”

“I thought you and Steph were going to move her stuff in?” Yoongi asks.

“We got most of it but her parents want to take her to dinner. This is her first time moving out so it’s a big deal. Her siblings are a little upset, as well. She’s the first to move.”

“That’s gotta be rough,” Yoongi states. He knows your parents were used to your brother coming and going so there was no big to do or celebration for him.

“Yeah, but they’ll be able to visit often. We live a few blocks away from her parents home. Anyway, I’ll be another hour or so. I have to drop off Steph and then grab dinner for us. I’ll call when I’m close so you can help me bring the food in. I gotta go,” your brother doesn’t let Yoongi get another word in before he hangs up.

“Guess I’m staying the night,” Yoongi chuckles as you wrap your arms around him.

“Good. I like it when you’re here,” you kiss his cheek before getting out of bed and putting on a pair of shorts.

“Come on, let’s go to your place.”

“You just want to take more of my stuff,” Yoongi chuckles as he gets up and pops into your closet for a shirt.

“I’ll see when we get there.” You smile, pressing a quick kiss to his lips before taking his hand to lead him out of your bedroom and out of your home.

“Don’t expect much,” Yoongi tells you as he unlocks his front door. “I wasn’t expecting guests.”

“Lemme in!” You pout, nearly stomping your foot on his unwelcome mat. The cat flipping you off totally sets off the mood. Yoongi didn’t like visitors much less those unannounced, so this was an enormous deal for him.

“I’m going! I’m going!” He exclaims as you slide your hands under his shirt, wanting to feel his body once again and knowing you’d end up making out on his doorstep if he didn’t let you in soon.

With an exaggerated flair, Yoongi opens the door and allows you in. You nearly tackle him out of the way in your haste inside.

Yoongi’s apartment is so him. The living room is large with an old gray couch, black cushions fluffed up, and sitting on top. His coffee table is small but littered with magazines and books half read and forgotten.

On the wall opposite the couch sits a large TV mounted in line with the couch. The TV stand beneath it is simple, charcoal in color, and holds all of Yoongi’s consoles and a few board games.

In the corner, a black guitar sits on its stand and Yoongi gives you a minute to browse his game collection.

“I’m gonna pack a bag while you snoop,” he calls as he heads to his bedroom.

“I’m not snooping!” You shout in response but his laughter is the only answer you get.

However, you linger at his video games, several titles sounding familiar and you gasp when you see a binder tucked under one of the consoles. You open it, surprised to see old Pokémon cards followed by old Yu-Gi-Oh cards. You had your own set tucked in the back of your closet, collecting dust and holding precious memories of your past.

You set the binder back in its place before going down the hallway toward Yoongi’s bedroom.

The bedroom door is cracked and you push it open further. Yoongi looks up from his duffel bag sitting on the bed. His closet is open and he waves his hand toward it.

“Pick a few things you like,” he simply says as he walks to his dresser to get a pair of socks and some underwear. You smile when you go through every shirt once and then twice, picking up a few you like.

Yoongi chuckles when he sees your hands full. He takes them from you and folds them neatly to stuff on top of his other belongings.

“Guess I’ll have to go shopping soon,” he muses as he sets the bag on his nightstand and reaches for you.

“Come here.”

You do so, kissing his cheek to make him blush when he drops the two of you on his bed.

You scoot further, getting comfy and staring up at the ceiling. You wonder how wonderful it would be to wake up just like this, wrapped in Yoongi’s embrace every morning.

Yoongi scoots closer, his fingers lacing with yours.

“Tell me everything I missed,” Yoongi whispers as he brings your hand to his lips, planting a soft kiss on your hand.

“Where to begin?” You muse as you turn to face him. His gaze bores into yours and he looks so cute with his hair splayed out on his pillow and his soft pink lips turned upward in an encouraging smile.

You collect your thoughts, soon telling him about everything he missed. The struggles of university, the little fights with friends, your new favorite foods, and ones you couldn’t stand the sight of. You talked of vacations and concerts, jobs you were considering applying for, and those you wanted to avoid, and Yoongi listened intently. He took mental notes, thought of date ideas based on your interests, and laughed when you did.

“What about you?” You ask when you’re done.

“Hmm?”

You laugh. “What were you up to?”

“Oh, you know, the usual,” Yoongi shrugs noncommittally and you poke his chest. With a laugh, he takes your finger and brings it to his mouth, teeth nipping your fingertip.

“Hey!”

A smile tugs at his lips when he releases you. Sighing, he looks up at the ceiling for a moment. “Parties, work, made a few new friends. Not a lot, honestly.”

You climb on his lap, straddling his hips. Yoongi’s hands go to your waist, sliding under your shirt to feel the warmth of your skin.

“How many nights did you spend in bed thinking of me?” You ask boldly, heart racing in your chest.

“All of them,” he answers honestly as his hand moves to cup your face, bringing you to his lips.

A needy moan escapes you when his teeth tug on your bottom lip, his other hand moving down the curve of your back to grab a handful of your ass.

“Always thought of you. Of seeing you again. Of holding you again, kissing you. There’s not a moment I didn’t think of you. Never knew if I could ever have you,” Yoongi admits.

“Yoongi,” you say his name breathlessly, gripping his shirt to make sure he won’t disappear this time.

Yoongi swallows thickly as he looks up at you. He sighs heavily, pushing your hair out of your face.

“I’m sorry I didn’t try harder. I’m sorry I let you go so easily. I never want to make you feel like that again. That weekend meant something to me. I never want you to think that it didn’t.”

Softly, you caress his cheek. Your gaze is intense as you refuse to look away from him. His hands settle on your hips, more for him than for you, needing something to anchor him.

“After you left, in the morning he came to my room happy I’d gotten over my crush on you,” you explain, batting away the tears that form. “I don’t want to lose either of you.”

Yoongi takes your hands in his, fingers laced as he squeezes tight. “We’ll tell him about us this time. He’ll understand now.”

“You think so?” You bite your lip as you ponder what your brother’s reaction will be. You haven’t talked much since he got back in town, his impending move taking up most of his time and now his soon-to-be-fiancée.

“He will. It won’t be like last time. I swear,” Yoongi’s tone is firm, already decided.

“Okay,” you nod, curling into his side as he kisses the top of your head.

Yoongi holds you for a few more minutes before the two of you leave his home. He treasures the last few minutes with you before he has to keep his hands to himself for the rest of the night.

“Who else is coming?” You ask when Yoongi and your brother set the bags of takeout on the table.

“Just us?” Your brother responds, puzzled. “Why?”

You wave your hand at the bags and your brother shrugs. “I’m hungry. I'm a growing boy.”

“Yeah,” Yoongi huffs laughter. “Growing to be a pain in the butt.”

“I resent that! Now sit down and let’s eat!” Your brother grins as he hands out random bags to you and Yoongi to unpack while he grabs condiments out of the fridge and some cutlery from a drawer.

“I don’t want to hear you groaning later when you can’t find the Tums,” you roll your eyes at your brother but he laughs.

“You don’t have to worry about me,” he says as he points to a bag on the couch. It’s red and has a zipper, resembling a school supply bag but when you take a peek inside you cackle.

“Laugh now, brat, that’s your future,” your brother scoffs.

You look at the contents of the bag again and giggle. It’s stuffed to the brim with over-the-counter medication, most of them for your brother’s tummy troubles; Imodium, Tums, Pepto, and Gas-x.

“Yoon,” you call as you set the pouch back down on the couch after zipping it back up. “I recommend you sleep on the couch tonight.”

“Hey!” Your brother exclaims. “I’m not that bad.”

You and Yoongi share a look before you turn to your affronted brother. “You are that bad.”

Cursing, your brother ignores the two of you as he takes a bite of his taco, drowning it in lime juice and hot sauce.

He grumbles under his breath for most of the meal while you and Yoongi exchange glances.

Thirty minutes later, the three of you are piling onto the couch. You’ve got one end and Yoongi has the other. Your brother settles on the recliner as he watches the movie he picked out. His hand has been rubbing his stomach for a few moments and his bag of goodies (as he calls it) lays open at his side.

“I bet the little sister did it,” he says as he rocks in the recliner before fishing a Tums out of his bag.

“Dude,” Yoongi curses. “It just started.”

“It’s not like it’s a crime,” you shrug. You’ve already seen the movie before but your brother was intrigued and nothing else sounded like a good watch while in a food coma. Besides, you did enjoy the film anyway.

“If I fall asleep, let me know if I’m right,” he yawns as he rubs his stomach one more time.

It’s not long until he’s snoring in the chair, drowning out the movie, and leaving you and Yoongi to secretly hold hands under a couch cushion.

“He’s down for the count,” Yoongi whispers as he shuts and locks your door after getting your brother up to bed.

“Are you sure?” You ask, panicked.

Yoongi nods. “He took some melatonin and knocked out.”

You hush Yoongi, pressing your finger to his lips. You wait a moment, ignoring the heat of his lips on your skin. You’re startled when your brother’s snore rattles the home.

“Told ya,” Yoongi chuckles. You move your finger off his lips, but Yoongi wraps his hand around your wrist to plant a kiss on the sensitive skin. You watch him with a heated gaze, licking your lips when his eyes lock on yours.

It’s not long until the both of you are over each other, kissing urgently on your way to your bed. Yoongi climbs on you as your hands grip his shirt, nearly tearing it off his body in your haste.

Chuckling, Yoongi removes his shirt and tosses it on the floor. You lie beneath him, your hands roaming across his broad chest, pulling him close to kiss him again.

A growl escapes him. He ignores the throb of his cock when he realizes you’re wearing one of the shirts you stole from him.

“Baby,” he rasps. His low voice sounds grave as he curses, grabbing your thighs in his hands and tugging you toward him.

“Yoongi,” you gasp, immediately covering your mouth with your hand.

Both of you freeze, hearts thudding obscenely loudly as you wait for the tell-tale snore that comes a moment later.

Yoongi sighs in relief as he grips your panties and rips them down your thighs. He pockets them before you can protest. He bunches your shirt and has you bite down on it.

“Not a sound, baby. We can’t get caught,” he says as you nod, already drooling on the shirt.

Smirking, Yoongi palms his cock as he spreads your legs with his other hand.

“Touch yourself for me, baby. Show me how you pleasure yourself when you think of me,” he instructs as he sits on the edge of the bed.

You bite back a moan, shyly spreading your legs as he continues to palm his cock over his shorts. His chains shine in the light of your bedroom, and you wonder what they’d feel like dragging across your heated skin as he hovers above you, filling you full of his cock.

“Yoongi,” you breathe as your eyes meet his, and your hand moves from your breast down to the apex of your thighs. Yoongi follows the movement, cursing when your fingers land on your clit.

You’re slow with your movements, gently rubbing your clit in circles. Pleasure courses through you. You become aware of how wet you are when you move your hand lower.

Yoongi licks his lips as he watches you, nearly growling when you spread your fingers and your arousal coats them both generously.

Without blinking, Yoongi strips until he’s bare. His tongue peeks from between his lips as he wraps his hand around his length. He’s slow with his strokes, eyes hooded and focused on your wet cunt.

Cursing, Yoongi feels his heart flutter when his name tumbles from your lips. Your head lolls back as you arch, your fingers sliding in and out of you faster and faster. Your legs shake, gasps spilling from your lips as you look up to see Yoongi jerking off to you.

“Is this how you touched yourself while thinking of me?” He asks with a lustful look that sends tingles down your spine.

“Only thought of you,” you whisper. “Thought of your cock filling me up, making me cum, making me cream.”

“Fuck,” Yoongi groans deeply as he moves forward, his hand grabbing the nape of your neck as he pulls you into a kiss that makes your whole body tingle with pleasure.

Soon, his fingers replace yours. His thumb rubs your clit as his lips smother your moans. Your hands wrap around his dick, moaning as you stroke him with your wet fingers.

“Fuck, baby. Just like that,” he encourages as he rocks his hips.

His lips mark your neck in tiny constellations that you’ll smile about later on when he takes a photo of his hand wrapped around your throat and your hickeys peeking through.

“Focus on me, love.” Yoongi pouts as his thumb adds more pressure to your clit, and you whimper. Your eyes are wide, teeth sinking into your bottom lip as your legs tremble.

A smirk appears on Yoongi’s face. “That’s it, baby. Tell me who’s making you feel this good.”

“You,” you answer in a gasp. “Yoongi!”

Yoongi kisses you, silencing you as you cum on his delicious fingers. You moan as his tongue meets yours, your fingers threaded in his hair as you soak the sheets beneath you.

Slowly, Yoongi removes his fingers, chuckling when you groan.

“Fuck, I can’t wait for you to fuck me.” You giggle, catching him off guard.

He puckers his lips in surprise, cheeks pink as he brings his fingers to his lips to suck clean.

“Think you can handle it, princess?” Yoongi goads.

You nod. “I’ve thought about it a lot.”

Yoongi curses, carding his fingers through his hair as he ignores the twitch of his cock. You notice, grinning as you wrap your hand around him once more. You move until Yoongi settles between your legs, his cock head pressed to your clit as you grind against him.

“Shit, babe. If you keep doing that, I might just cum,” Yoongi admits ruefully.

You smile devilishly as you continue, moving forward to kiss Yoongi, biting his bottom lip and tugging at it just to make him growl.

He’s at your mercy, moaning softly as you move faster. Fuck, you’re soaking his cock, drenching every inch, and the head keeps rubbing on your clit. He’d love nothing more than to have you wrapped around him, screaming his name for the whole block to hear, but he can’t. Not yet at least.

For now, he’ll have to settle for this. Though you don’t make it easy on him as you moan his name and sink your teeth into his shoulder to muffle another scream of his name as your thighs quiver and you cum with his head between your lips. Yoongi chuckles, licking his lips as he wraps his hand over yours on his dick. His pace is faster as he looks at your wet cunt, biting back an earth-shattering moan of your name as he cums all over your pussy and clit.

The warmth spreads along your skin as you fall back onto the pillows with a goofy grin. Yoongi smiles, kissing your lips quickly before he kisses down your body.

He paused at your tit, taking the hard nipple into his mouth, teeth gently tugging it before releasing it and moving to the other. Your hand grips his hair, cursing when the drag of his chains leaves goosebumps in their wake as he kisses further down your body until he’s grabbing your thighs in each of his gorgeous hands.

With ease, Yoongi places your legs over his broad shoulders as he settles between your thighs. His mouth waters at the sight of your pussy, arousal, and his cum mixed on your mound.

Teasingly, he licks your clit first. Slowly circling it just to watch you twitch as your hand covers your mouth to keep quiet. Yoongi smirks to himself as he repeats the action, muffling his moan in your inner thigh as he gets the first taste of your mixed pleasure.

Nothing could ever taste as wonderful.

Yoongi’s a menace with his tongue, more so than you could have ever imagined. Your fantasies are nothing but weak interpretations of reality. His tongue licks every bit of you, cleaning up your cum and his as if his life depends on it.

It doesn’t take him long to get you to cum one more time.

“Come on, princess,” he encourages with a sweet coo. “Just one more for me, darling. You can do it, right?”

“Yes,” you breathe as your eyes flutter shut, your lashes kissing your cheeks.

“Mm,” Yoongi hums. “Maybe next time it’ll be my cock instead of my tongue and fingers.”

You whine, begging him to fuck you as his fingers curl inside you, slowly pumping in and out as his lips wrap around your clit.

“Please,” you beg. “I want your cock. Need it.”

Yoongi laughs, smiling as he swirls his tongue around your clit one more time.

“So needy. I can’t wait to fuck you, baby. Spread you open and have you wrapped around me. Stuff you full of my cock until you can’t help but scream my name,” Yoongi states as you lose yourself in your orgasm, muffling your moans with your hand.

Yoongi curses, licking his lips as he eats you out through your pleasure. He only slows when you tug his hair twice.

A soft kiss is pressed to your temple as he lies beside you. You’re worn out, and a little sleepy. You don’t want him to leave, but you know your brother would punch him or worse if he found Yoongi in your bedroom or even suspected it.

You’re honestly surprised you can still hear him snoring upstairs. Unaware of all that’s taken place just a floor below.

“I wish you didn’t have to go,” you whisper as you feel him pull the covers over the two of you.

“I know, baby.” Yoongi sighs. “I’ll stay as long as I can. It won’t always be like this.”

“Promise?” You ask softly.

“I promise,” he assures you with a kiss to your lips.

Yoongi holds you until he’s sure you’re asleep. He wonders what it would be like to stay in bed with you all night. To wake up to your beautiful smile each day.

The ache that follows keeps him awake until he’s sneaking out of your bedroom door, fully clothed.

When he’s on the couch in the living room, his thoughts cloud his mind preventing him from sleeping.

He should just tell your brother. After all, you were all adults and he knew he wanted to pursue this. He hadn’t been with anyone since you and he didn’t want to be with anyone else. Of that he was sure.

What if he lost you and his best friend, though? Would he be able to move on?

Yoongi sighs heavily as he closes his eyes and throws his arms over them. It looks like another sleepless night for him.

What a shock.

The next morning is busy.

Your parents are back home for breakfast. Your mother and father make food for everyone before heading to your brother’s apartment to clean it despite your brother’s protests.

“It’s clean to the landlord’s standards, not mine,” your mother states as she heads out the door with her cleaning supplies and your father behind her.

Yoongi chuckles as he leans against the counter. “She did the same thing to my place with my mom.”

“I don’t know why I tried talking her out of it. Oh, well.” Your brother shakes his head as he gets a phone call from the movers.

Yoongi, your father, and your brother have spent most of the morning moving your brother’s boxes to the garage. Anything he deemed fragile was piled up in his car.

Since your brother mostly lived abroad, and he was getting new furniture with Steph, he wasn’t taking too much with him. Your job was to unpack with Steph, and Yoongi’s was to help your brother unload his car and make sure your mother didn’t go overboard in her cleaning.

Your brother should be moved in by the end of the night, which meant there was no real reason for Yoongi to hang out at your place without an excuse. Yoongi had texted you assurances very early in the morning and it’s not like your brother wouldn’t laze around at your parents’ place like before, just less so.

However, that meant his place would be off-limits as well if your brother showed up unexpectedly. It didn’t matter, Yoongi would figure it out.

He promised.

Hours later, you’re finishing up at your brother’s place. Most of his items are unpacked with his help and Steph’s. Your mom has finished cleaning to her satisfaction and headed out with your father.

Your brother bought you all lunch, and now that you were done, there was nothing else to do but leave.

“I’ll take her home,” Yoongi offers. “I have some errands to run anyway.”

“You sure?” your brother asks as he throws the trash into the trashcan.

“Yeah, gotta get a few things at the store,” Yoongi shrugs, trying to appear nonchalant. You pull your phone out, asking Jimin to cover for you for a few hours in case your parents or brother ask.

[Jimin-bee]: whatcha gonna do?

[you]: talk

[Jimin-bee]: TALK ha! Let me know when you’re done and use condoms

You don’t reply.

“That’s fine,” you fake a yawn. “I’m tired anyway. You enjoy your first night here.”

Your brother nods, smiling as he pulls you into a hug. “Come over whenever.”

“Sure,” you nod.

“But call first,” your brother laughs before he walks you to the door with Yoongi. You wave at Steph as you leave with Yoongi in tow. The both of you walk down the hall toward the stairs, waiting for the door to shut before Yoongi pulls you into the stairwell.

“Fuck,” you moan when your back meets the wall. Yoongi captures your lips with his. Yoongi’s hand rests on the wall right beside your head as he kisses you deeply. Your hands immediately grab fistfuls of his shirt as you kiss him back, moaning when his hips press against yours.

“You’re already hard,” you giggle as he kisses down your jaw to your neck.

“I like kissing you,” he murmurs against your skin.

“Yoongi,” you moan as he sucks on your neck, his hand going to your hip to pull you toward him. You melt under his touch, only remembering where you are when the door slams from the next floor and footsteps echo as they grow closer.

The both of you pull apart, adjusting your hair as you take Yoongi’s hand in yours and head up the stairs. His place was on the third floor, far, far away from your brother on the first floor.

You don’t make eye contact with the man who passes by you on the stairs. Yoongi smiles to himself, hiding it with his hair before he goes stoic and looks up.

“Good evening,” he says simply as you continue heading up the stairs.

“Evening,” the man responds as he takes the stairs down.

It only takes a few more minutes before you’re in Yoongi’s apartment, pressed to the door as you kick your shoes off.

Yoongi grins as he takes his shirt off while you tug your top off. You’ve wanted him since you saw him this morning. It was hard to watch him lifting heavy boxes with his veins looking so prominent. The way he shook his long hair out of his eyes or when his hands pushed it back. Memories of last night hit you hard when you looked at his hands, remembering what his fingers felt like inside you.

Every time he laughed, your heart fluttered, wishing more than anything you could reach for him and hold him. Just touch him without your brother or parents having a problem with you two. You doubt your parents would have anything negative to say if you and him started dating but your brother’s discontent and possible fury kept you from exposing the relationship at the moment. It wouldn’t be like this forever, though. You had hoped your brother could understand, he was older now, more mature, right?

“What are you thinking, baby?” Yoongi asks softly as he cups your face. His thumb strokes your cheek as he locks eyes with you. You lean into his touch.

“Just want everyone to know about us,” you admit in a whisper, apprehensive of his answer.

“I want that too,” you perk up at his response, eyes shining with hope.

“You do?”

“Of course, baby. It won’t always be like this. Soon, we’ll let them all know that you’re my girl. Just a little longer,” he assures you as you lean in to kiss him, fingers laced in his long locks as he leads you to his bedroom after locking his front door.

The next morning, you stir before you wake. Sleep clings to your eyes as you rub them, groaning when an alarm goes off.

“Ugh,” you grunt as you sit up, finally opening your eyes as Yoongi shuts the alarm off.

“Sorry, babe. I have to work today,” he says as he kisses your cheek before getting out of bed. You grumble as you fall back onto the pillows. The shirt you took from Yoongi bunched at your hips, thighs smeared with your arousal from last night as he ate you out again and made you cum around his fingers twice.

“Don’t go,” you grumble as you roll over to face him. He chuckles as he looks over at you.

“I have to, baby. I asked for yesterday off because I knew your brother would want to hang out after graduation. Time to go make money.” Yoongi grabs his things and heads for the shower. “Wanna join?”

You kick the covers off you as you follow him into the bathroom, giggling when he opens the bathroom cabinet to show you toothbrushes, toothpaste, mouthwash, skincare, and lotions, all in bulk.

“I like to shop at the bulk stores,” he says shyly. “Easier to keep everything stocked when you work from home.”

“Cutie,” you smile, kissing his cheek before turning the shower on and stepping in. Yoongi follows you, kissing you when you’re both under the shower spray. You know this could easily turn to more if your hands wander too low and Yoongi has to clock in.

You take your time, feeling each other and sharing kisses until Yoongi gets out to grab your towel and wrap you in it before he wraps one around his waist.

The two of you do your morning routines, and you smile to yourself when your toothbrush sits beside his own.

Soon, you’re both dressed. Yoongi makes a pot of coffee, making it just the way you like it when a knock comes on the door.

Your eyes widen as Yoongi heads to the door, to look through the peephole.

“It’s your brother. Fuck,” he hisses.

You get out of your seat, run to the bedroom, and hide in the closet.

Yoongi looks over his shoulder to make sure you’re out of sight before he opens the door to let your brother in. He’s thankful he only had enough time to make your coffee before he came knocking. He’s not sure how he would have explained two mugs.

“Hey,” Yoongi greets him, as your brother lets himself in. “What’s up?”

“I texted you but you didn’t answer,” your brother explains as Yoongi shuts the door.

“Sorry, I was in the shower. Just got out. I work soon,” Yoongi shrugs as he refrains from looking at the bedroom. He’s sure he’s thrown all the clothing in the hamper. He was gonna toss your clothing and his from yesterday into his washer while he worked, so you’d have something clean to go home in.

By the time he took you home, your parents should still be working, so nobody would know if you had spent the night elsewhere.

At the moment, you were dressed in one of his shirts and sweatpants. You were going to lounge around his home until his workday ended and you had to go home for the night.

“Do you want to go get breakfast?” your brother asks Yoongi as he looks around the apartment.

“Sorry, I can’t,” Yoongi says. “I’ve got to clock in a little earlier today.”

“Boo,” your brother laughs.

You wish him away, wanting to leave the closet as soon as possible. Your heart is racing in your chest, and you almost wonder if they can hear it out in the living room.

“Oh, well,” your brother shrugs. “Maybe next time?”

“Yeah, sure,” Yoongi agrees as your brother walks toward the front door. He almost smiles in relief when they get to the door but your brother stops and turns on his heel at the last second.

Yoongi is confused as your brother heads for his bedroom.

“Dude!” Yoongi calls after him, palms sweating as he follows him as fast as he can, trying to keep from looking suspicious.

“My mom said our letterman jackets were in your closet. I’ll just check real quick,” Your brother explains as he beelines it for the closet. “Steph doesn’t believe I was on varsity.”

“I’ll check,” Yoongi says as he scans the room but doesn’t see you. He knows you ran into it and not the half bath in the hallway.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to barge in. I just remembered. I figured since I was already here,” Your brother looks sheepish, and apologetic as he opens the closet doors anyway and Yoongi can feel sweat beading on his brow.

Fuck.

You were fucked.

Your brother pushes a few jackets out of the way in his search, stepping in a little further as you pull your feet toward you and cover your mouth and nose to silence your breathing as much as possible.

Your brother steps on your toe, and you bite back a scream as he moves his foot and moves more clothing out of the way.

“Damn, how many clothes do you need? You have three of these shirts in three colors,” your brother laughs as he pushes them out of the way and turns to look at Yoongi.

Yoongi shrugs.

There’s no way he won’t find you, and all he can do is take a step back to give you room to crawl out when you’re discovered.

“Ah, I see it,” your brother grins as he pushes some more thick coats out of the way and grabs his jacket. In his haste, he drops the hanger onto the floor.

When he bends down to pick it up, he makes eye contact with you. Your hand is still over your mouth, eyes wide as you look at him.

Your brother says your full name as he steps back and you crawl out of the closet before getting to your feet.

You wave weakly. “Hi.”

“What the fuck are you doing here? Why aren’t you home? Why are you wearing his clothes?” Your brother’s mind is whirling. The last thing he expected was to see you here!

“Um, you see,” you bite your lip, unsure of what to say.

“She spent the night,” Yoongi states.

Your brother whirls around to look at Yoongi, brows furrowed.

“Why?”

“Because he’s my boyfriend now,” you say sheepishly, avoiding eye contact.

“I need to sit,” your brother pulls Yoongi’s desk chair toward him and sits. His jacket falls to his feet as he inhales and exhales a few times.

“Mind telling me what’s going on with my little sister, dude?” Your brother asks his best friend. He figured you two liked each other, but what was this spending the night shit? So soon? Without even telling him first? The fuck?

“We just started dating Sunday,” Yoongi explains as he sits on the edge of his bed, now that he’s twenty percent sure your brother wasn’t gonna punch him in the face. You go sit beside Yoongi, lacing your fingers together. Your brother doesn’t miss the gesture.

“And you didn’t think to tell me first?” your brother can’t help but sound hurt. He thought the three of you were better than to keep secrets.

“We wanted to, but look at how you’re reacting,” you sigh, squeezing Yoongi’s hand. You can barely focus with your heart thundering in your ears. Your hands grow clammy in Yoongi’s hold but he says nothing as your brother shakes his head.

Here it comes.

“I’m upset!” Your brother exclaims. “You kept this from me!”

“Because you told me last time that you were glad I didn’t like Yoongi anymore! I couldn’t lose you, so I didn’t see Yoongi again until you invited him to my graduation.”

Your brother places his palms over his face, his elbows resting on his knees as he exhales. He had said that. However, that was three years ago before he knew much about love. He always wondered why you never came around when Yoongi was there, but now everything was falling into place.

If he was honest with himself, he wasn’t upset over you guys. He knew it was inevitable after your years of crushing on Yoongi, and Yoongi didn’t help himself in recent years. Maybe he would have peeped it earlier if he had noted the way Yoongi looked at photos of you. There was always something more in his gaze.

“You still should have told me,” your brother looks up, making eye contact with Yoongi and then you. “Either of you.”

“We’re sorry,” Yoongi apologizes. “We should have but we’re still taking this slow. We don’t want to make any mistakes. I can’t lose her for another three years again. The last time hurt too much,” Yoongi looks at you before looking at your brother. “It hurt us both.”

“The last time?” your brother is puzzled. He rises from his chair with his jacket in his hands. “What last time? You mean this has happened before?”

“Um, we kissed at my last graduation,” you smile wryly. “Surprise?”

Your brother runs his hand over his face. Man, all he wanted was breakfast and now he had all this information he hadn’t asked for.

“You know what, don’t tell me anymore. You guys have my blessing or whatever, not that you need it. This is fine, just be careful. Don’t hide shit from me anymore,” Your brother shakes his head as he heads for the door.

You grin, hugging Yoongi before you walk your brother to the front door.

You throw your arms around your brother and hug him tightly. “I love you.”

“I love you too, brat. No more secrets,” he reminds you as he releases you and shakes his head one last time. He steps out of the apartment and pauses, “You both owe me breakfast.”

“Will do,” Yoongi grins as he drapes his arm over your shoulder to pull you close. Your brother smiles, seeing the two of you together wasn’t as weird as he thought it would be.

It was your happiness that mattered most of all, right?

Three weeks later, you’re back in Yoongi’s apartment after a night out on the town. You had a wonderful dinner, followed by a romantic walk by the river.

You were eager to get back to his place, kissing him at every chance you got. He had his hand on your thigh the whole drive home, smirking when he’d catch you tracing the veins and his rings.

His hair was slicked back, his chains resting on his chest and his suit fit him perfectly. He had a certain confidence that had you wanting to lick him up and down in public. Yoongi wasn’t able to keep his eyes (or hands) off you in the black dress you wore. Your back was exposed with a low dip that ended right above your lower back. He loved feeling your skin beneath his palm as you walked until you were leading him to the car.

“Take me home,” you had whispered in his ear, biting the lobe before settling in the front seat. That alone was enough to get him to half-mast.

The past few weeks, you’ve taken it slow. You were kissing and making out almost every day. Sometimes he’d fuck you with his fingers or his tongue, and sometimes you’d suck him off but you never went all the way.

You wanted to, tonight.

Yoongi’s hands grip your hips as your back meets the front door of his apartment. You giggle as his lips trail kisses down your jaw to your neck as your hands palm his chest on their trek to his pants pockets to fish out his keys.

“Fuck,” he curses, his breath fanning across your neck as you cup his erection.

“Oops,” you giggle as you squeeze him one more time before taking the keys out of his pocket. You hand them to him as he tries his best to get the key in the lock, but misses twice as he refuses to stop marking your neck.

“The faster you get me inside, the faster you can feel me wrapped around your cock,” you whisper as his teeth nip your skin.

“Fuck, okay. Yeah,” Yoongi breathes as he cards a hand through his hair. His thoughts are running rampant as he gets the key in the lock and turns it. He pushes the door open, grabbing your hand as he pulls you in.

You smile, kissing him as he shuts the door and presses you against it. One of his hands cups your face, and the other locks the door as he deepens the kiss.

You kick your shoes off, grunting as you trip over them. Yoongi chuckles, easily stepping out of his shoes.

A shirt here, pants there, your dress in a pool of fabric outside Yoongi’s bedroom door, and soon you’re in nothing but panties on his bed as he climbs on top of you between your legs.

Yoongi cups your cheek, his thumb caressing your skin. His dark eyes meet yours as he presses his lips to yours.

Warmth pools in your belly as your thighs wrap around his hips to pull him closer. Yoongi moans softly as his cock presses to your panty-clad cunt. He breathes your name, trailing kisses to your neck as your fingers thread in his inky locks.

“Yoongi,” his name rolls off your tongue in a tone so sweet, he can almost taste it when you moan again.

“That’s it, love. Let me hear those moans, don’t be shy,” He encourages as he moves downward and your hands move to his shoulders for a moment before he’s kissing one breast and groping the other.

Yoongi takes his time with you, kissing and caressing every inch of your body. His lips mark your skin, his teeth nibble gently just to listen to you sigh. Your hands grip the sheets, tugging on them as he teases you.

“Yoongi,” you breathe, nearly melting into a puddle when his tongue swirls around your nipple, sucking it just to make you gasp as his large hand grips your thigh.

“Yes?” he asks with a lopsided grin. “What is it, baby?”

“Please, stop teasing me,” you plead, biting your bottom lip as his lips kiss down your body until he’s settled between your thighs.

Yoongi smirks, his lips pressing a soft kiss to your mound. “Who’s teasing?”

“Yoongi!”

Chuckling, Yoongi kisses your thigh as his fingertip circles your clit once.

“Yoongi!”

He laughs, his gummy smile making you giggle. “I’ll stop teasing.”

“You promise?” you ask with a raised brow, but Yoongi doesn’t answer. Instead, he dips between your parted legs, his tongue licking your wet folds as your eyes flutter shut and you curse at the ceiling.

Yoongi doesn’t waste a second as he grabs handfuls of your thighs and pulls you closer. You squeal in surprise and laugh when he kisses your inner thigh.

“Cutie,” he murmurs before he’s trailing kisses to the apex of your thighs. He’s slow and teasing with his tongue, listening closely to every gasp and moan that escapes your pretty lips.

It’s not too long before your hand is gripping his thick hair, begging for more as he pushes two of his fingers inside you, curling them until you’re nearly screaming his name.

“So fucking wet for me, princess,” Yoongi curses, licking his lips before going back to the task at hand. You curse, back arching and thighs trembling as blissful pleasure courses through your veins.

“Yoongi! Baby!” You exclaim, thighs shaking as your breath grows ragged and your eyes squeeze shut.

“Fuck,” Yoongi licks his lips as he watches you fall apart, pussy clenching around his fingers as his thumb rubs your clit and you cry out one last time before lying boneless on the bed.

“Come here,” you demand when you catch your breath.

Grinning, Yoongi kisses your clit one last time before moving beside you.

You kiss him immediately, your hands cupping his face as he pulls you on top of him. Your legs go on either side of his hips as your wet cunt sits on his cock.

“We should,” Yoongi kisses you. “Get a condom.”

You nod, kissing him again, your tongue meeting his as he reaches blindly on his nightstand. He chuckles, moving you off him for a moment to open the drawer, take a handful of condoms out, and set them on the nightstand within reach.

“How many do you think we’ll need?” You ask with wide eyes.

Yoongi throws his head back and laughs, kissing your cheek when he calms down.

“Hopefully all of them,” he smiles cheekily. “But let’s start with one for tonight.”

“Yes,” you agree as you kiss him again as Yoongi rips open the packet, tossing the wrapper on the nightstand.

With ease, Yoongi is ready in seconds as he lies you down on the bed. He kisses you gently, his thumb stroking your cheek as he pulls away.

His dark eyes lock on yours, and your heart flutters.

“We can stop whenever you want to, princess. Just say the word, okay?”

“Yes,” you nod, kissing him deeply as he lines himself up at your entrance.

You gasp when he pushes in, nails digging into his forearms as his face gets buried in your neck.

“Fuck,” he curses as he gives you a moment to adjust. He kisses your neck, shoulders,, and cheek until you give him the go ahead to go further.

Before too long, pleasure courses through you as you moan Yoongi’s name.

“Fuck, love,” Yoongi nearly loses himself. You’re so warm and wet, tightening around him as he fucks into you again and again. He’s overcome with emotion as his eyes lock with yours. He never thought he’d get a second chance with you, not after he left so abruptly and there was no contact between you. He knows it’s probably too early in the relationship to say I love you, but he feels it in every fiber of his being.

With every kiss, with every touch, with every sigh, he falls deeper and deeper in love and there’s nothing he would ever do to stop it.

You breathe his name, kissing him as he goes deeper and you fall, fall, fall into pleasure.

This is better than you could have ever imagined. Better than all your daydreams and anything your imagination had conjured throughout the years. Love blooms in your chest as you grip his shoulder tights, your hands sliding down until your fingers lace with his. Pleasure courses through your veins, nearly consuming you.

“So big and thick,” you whisper, making Yoongi chuckle as he sucks on your neck.

“I said that aloud didn’t I?” You feel the heat rise to your cheeks from embarrassment.

“You did,” Yoongi giggles as he kisses you again, his hips rocking into yours as your legs cling to his hips to pull him closer.

“This is perfect,” you whisper as your body tingles and Yoongi’s fingers rub your clit. You shake, moaning as you meet each of Yoongi’s thrusts with your hips.

“Yoongi!”

“That’s it, baby. Cum for me,” Yoongi instructs, kissing you as you tighten around him and lose yourself to the pleasure.

Yoongi follows soon after, moaning your name in between pants before he pulls out of you. He discards the used condom quickly before lying at your side.

“You okay?” He asks gently as he pulls you into his arms. You smile brightly, nodding.

“Perfect,” you respond as you kiss his bare chest. “Can we do it again?”

Yoongi chuckles, shaking his head incredulously.

“As much as you’d like, princess.”

#yoongi smut #yoongi fanfic #yoongi fanfiction #yoongi x reader insert #yoongi x reader #yoongi x you #yoongi x y/n #yoongi angst #yoongi angst and smut #yoongi angst with a happy ending #boyfriend!yoongi #brother's best friend au #fic: tlc #fic: tongue like cany

428 notes · View notes

oddinary4bts · 1 year ago

Text

Now We Reign | myg

☆summary: when working on a collab together makes you and Min Yoongi seek comfort with the other, you discover there’s more to life than loneliness. Only, hurdles mark your path in Min Yoongi’s life, and it’s unclear what the outcome will be. Will you be destroyed by him and his world, or will you learn to reign over it, together with him?

☆pairing: Min Yoongi x singer female reader

☆rating: 18+ (minors DNI)

☆genre: work collaborators to lovers, idol!au, smut, angst, fluff

☆warnings: alcohol, cursing, OC has family problems similar to those Yoongi went through, financial insecurity, loneliness, cheating but not cheating because they are on a break, sexist interviewer, explicit content: grinding, dom!reader, switch!Yoongi, big dick!Yoongi, oral sex (male and female receiving), jerking off, face riding, tits/nipples play, hickey, fingering, protected sex, choking, clit play, denied orgasms (due to consensual drunk sex), fingering, mentions of anal sex, handcuffs, anal plug, anal fingering

☆word count: 34.9k

☆a/n: it’s so weird to post something other than The Forgotten Spaces :’) I hope you’ll still enjoy this! As per always, thank you to @moonleeai for her incredible work as my beta reader! You’re the best <3

☆Read the other installments in the Life Goes On series here!

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

Seven months ago

Music had always been home to you. A refuge, a safe haven from your family life as you had grown up. It had been held in the keys of your piano, and in the pages of your diary. Songs after songs, lines underlined and others erased. Clever play of words, rhymes and music to accompany it. Some of them had made it to your first EP, but most you had tried to forget.

Your past wasn’t one you wanted to revisit. Not when you had gotten a deal with a record label, something you hadn’t expected to happen at such a young age.

Idol life had never been something you were aiming for. You chose the backstreets, the smaller scene, and produced indie music as you went. It still got you a following, one that had been growing through the years, until your name was known all over Seoul.

You wondered if it had reached your hometown too, but the silence on your phone was clear enough: even if your parents had heard, their older daughter had been dead to them a long time ago. You had stopped caring through the years, pouring your hate for your family in your songs. You had even dived in the genre of rap a little. Rhythm and poetry, laced together until you lost yourself in the music.

It was different from your usual, but it had gotten the attention of a big name in the music industry. He had suggested a collaboration, offering to produce the song. All you had to do was help with the lyrics, though you were pretty sure he had that part covered. Of course he also wanted you to record some parts of the song for him, needing a female voice to be able to carry the meaning. Nothing too complicated.

After all, Min Yoongi already was a successful established artist. Far more successful than you ever thought you would be. It had taken you by surprise, when he had contacted you. It had been a random Tuesday night, and your agent had been going crazy, so much so you had had to tell him to calm down otherwise you were going to drop the collab. Minhyuk hadn’t needed more to oblige, and you had found yourself working on the song in the following weeks.

You weren’t surprised when Min Yoongi came to you with an almost finished version of the song. You had tweaked some parts, and surprisingly enough, he had trusted the changes. Even if you had made him rework one of his own verses, Yoongi had listened to you intently, and had seen the intelligence behind your suggestions.

You could only hope he would see the intelligence between the changes you wanted to make now. Because the song was set to release in a few weeks, and you were pretty convinced he didn’t like last minute changes.

Maybe that was why you found yourself going to his place, with a whiskey bottle as an offering so he wouldn’t be too mad.

Yes, you knew where Min Yoongi lived. In a far more luxurious condo building compared to your own, with a huge condo that stood on two stories of the upper levels. It offered him a beautiful view of the city, though you had yet to visit at night. Indeed, he had only made you come here once, on one of the early Saturdays of your collab.

You realized as you stood in front of the building that this was stupid. You hadn’t even texted or called him in advance to inform him of your impromptu visit. Had only decided the changes about an hour ago, and had rushed to the liquor store to grab the expensive bottle you currently held.

But life seemed to have plans for you. Other than that of running away into the night before you had the chance to embarrass yourself. That is, life had planned for you to run into Min Yoongi as he was walking back home, and you both stood facing each other for a few awkward seconds before you collected yourself, offering him a respectful bow.

“Seonbaenim,” you greeted him, and you hesitated before you straightened.

His hands were in his pockets, protecting him from the cold the evening held. He had an unreadable expression on his features, as if the sight of you was an inconvenience, but he didn’t want to let it show.

You weren’t stupid enough to believe collaborating with him had made you friends. Min Yoongi was a professional through and through, in everything he did. Apart from his members, you knew he didn’t mix work and personal life.

He said your name, and for a second you thought you saw confusion on his features. “What are you doing here?”

You stood there, not knowing what to say for what probably was a good ten seconds but felt like an eternity. His eyes flitted to the whiskey bottle, and you were pretty sure a disapproving look passed in his gaze, not lingering long enough for you to be sure you had truly seen it.

“I have some suggestions to make for the song,” you said. Your voice held strong, even though you felt incredibly uncomfortable under his stare.

His eyes widened a little, and his lips parted for a second before his mouth fell shut again. He looked behind you, to the hall of his building, before settling his gaze on you again.

“What do you have in mind?”

Oof. At least he was letting you talk. “It’s for the last bridge,” you started. “I think I could sing the last part differently. It’s lacking emotion.”

Yoongi had bothered you about emotion a lot when you had first been recording. Had told you he was surprised you couldn’t carry your usual emotion in this song. Which meant he had listened to your album, and you hadn’t known what to make of it for a time.

But you knew mentioning emotion was the way to go. Indeed, Yoongi slightly tilted his head to the side, still as unreadable, but you were convinced he was considering it.

“What makes you think you can get it better this time?”

There were no clues in his tone to let you know what he might have been thinking.

You had to refrain from scoffing. “I have what you need, trust me.”

He pursed his lips, just a little. A crack in his professional mask.

Because the song held sadness. The angry nostalgic kind. And hadn’t it been for the fact your parents hadn’t even deigned to call you for your birthday, you probably wouldn’t have found the right emotion in you to deliver the performance Yoongi had first wanted from you.

“Very well,” he said, nodding once. “You can record it in my home studio.”

You nodded too, agreeing to his invitation. You weren’t foolish enough to pass on the opportunity. You fell into step with Yoongi as he started moving towards the door again, the bottle of whiskey heavy in your hand.

“I brought a gift to apologize for being here so late,” you tentatively said. Not really knowing what approach to take when it came to the ice radiating off Min Yoongi today.

He had never been openly cold before. But you could feel it in the hard stretch of his shoulders, and the muscle that feathered on his jaw whenever he clenched it. Something was upsetting him, something that had made him go on a walk at a late hour just to clear his mind.

You were familiar with such walks. You getting to his place had started as a walk like that. Until you had seen the liquor store and decided to be gone with formalities.

You hadn’t expected him to let you see his emotions. Even if a minute ago you had been at a loss with how he felt, now you could physically feel the anger on him. But ever so the professional and gentleman, Yoongi held the door open for you, breathing in one last time the cold air of the night before he stepped in behind you.

And just like that the unbreakable mask was back in place. It wasn’t like you minded: like him, you prided yourself in your professionality. Just because Yoongi was a big name in the industry didn’t mean that you were going to forfeit your nature.

Maybe that was the reason why the elevator ride was so awkward. Yoongi had dived his hands back in his pockets as soon as he had hit the call button, and then after he had pressed on his level. You were just standing next to him, and the silent elevator smoothly went up the floors until you reached his. You found yourself straining to look ahead, avoiding to glance at him.

He seemed as if he needed privacy, and you were not going to be the one to take it from him. Fortunately, the whiskey bottle was a rock in the awkwardness, keeping you steady even as your head turned from wanting to disappear. It gave you something to do as the elevator moved, and you almost dreaded the moment it would come to a stop.

So you did the only thing you knew how to do. You thought about your parents, about the phone that hadn’t rang today, and you clenched your jaw as the emotions swarmed in.

Min Yoongi wasn’t the only one in a mood.

The elevator halted, slowing on its hinges until it had fully stopped. The doors slid open, and Yoongi walked out. You took a steadying breath before following him, and you looked away as he typed the code to his condo on the pad on his door.

Fancy condo buildings and their technologies be damned.

The pad whirred as it unlocked the door, and a few seconds later, you were in Min Yoongi’s condo. You breathed in, inhaling the remaining scent of a home-cooked meal. It smelled good, infinitely better than what you could cook, and your stomach had the nerve to growl as you watched Yoongi take off his shoes.

You fought the blush that was creeping on your cheeks as Yoongi glanced at you. “Have you not eaten dinner?”

You hadn’t. You had tried getting seaweed soup, but just the thought of eating it alone for your birthday had made you sick to your stomach. The only thing that was fueling your body today was the coffee you had drunk this morning and the sandwich you had forced yourself to eat at lunch time.

“Sorry,” you apologized. “I’ll get something to eat at the convenience store after, it shouldn’t be too long anyway.”

He watched you carefully, and you wondered if he could tell you were in a mood. You didn’t even know if he cared. He didn’t really seem as if he did, because he only nodded his head curtly before motioning to some slippers left abandoned by the door.

“You can put these on,” he told you, and then he was walking down the hall, shrugging off his coat.

You watched him go with a confused expression, before you did as told. You hesitated for a good minute before you followed him, almost feeling as if you were intruding on his personal space.

In all truth, you were very much so intruding on his personal space.

You didn’t remember much of his condo from your first visit. He had directly guided you to the studio, which was on the second floor. First door to the left. But tonight he hadn’t gone straight for that, so you followed the sounds until you reached a kitchen area.

Yoongi was putting some food in a bowl. Jajjangmyeon, from the looks of it, and you surveyed him as he slid the bowl in his microwave, before shutting the door and dialing the cooking time.

He turned to look at you, before motioning at some glasses he had put on the island, under the expensive looking chandelier.

“Why don’t you pour us a drink?” he suggested. “I’m reheating a plate for you, I don’t want your stomach to be gurgling while you record.”

You would have been embarrassed had this not been the first kind thing someone had done for you today.

Indeed, you didn’t have a lot of friends. Kept most of them at a distance, and none really knew when your birthday was. Mostly because you hated birthdays and had always thought them to be useless. Just another mark to add on the calendar, another year gone by without any news from your family.

“You don’t have to,” you said, and pink tinted your cheeks as you moved in.

He folded his arms on his chest, leaning against the counter. His eyes held an intensity you shied from as you focused on the glasses instead. “I would do it for anyone I collab with.”

You pursed your lips, nodding slightly, and the room fell silent except for the buzz of the microwave. You stopped in front of the glasses, putting the bottle down next to them. Not really knowing what to say to fill the silence, you uncorked the bottle, and the oaky scent of the whiskey filled your nose.

The familiar smell eased your nerves a little, and you poured the two glasses as Yoongi fished the bowl out of the microwave. He put it down next to you, and you glanced up to meet his face.

You hadn’t realized it before, but Yoongi had pretty features. His face was round, just a little, softening the edges of him, and his eyes were like gems on his face, shining in the light from the chandelier.

“Thank you,” you said in a low voice, before grabbing one of the glasses to give to him.

He bowed in thanks, taking the glass from you before inhaling the whiskey. “That’s an expensive bottle.”

You chuckled. “I felt bad for coming over so late.”

“It could have waited until tomorrow.”

It wasn’t reproachful, the way he said it. Just a statement, and maybe even a question. As much as he was professional, Min Yoongi wasn’t an asshole. He knew you were going through something, and although he clearly didn’t want to prod, he also didn’t want to pretend as if everything was okay.

You shrugged. “I tend to live my emotions quickly. If you want a raw result, then it had to be tonight.”

He wet his lips, and his eyes fell to the jajjangmyeon. “Then eat so we can get to work.”

*****

You finished recording for the fifth time. Each time Yoongi had suggested something a little different, something he believed would work better for the song. Less angry, more sadness. Find nostalgia and all that same crap.

You expected it when Yoongi said, “Let’s do it one more time. I think we almost have it.”

You glanced at him where he was sitting at his computer. You considered biting his head off, but then you nodded curtly.

He was right, there was way too much anger in your voice. So you shut your eyes, thinking about fifteen-year-old you having to leave your parents’ house because, “we won’t support you if you decide to give up on your life for some stupid dream”. You thought about you, living in the backroom of an old man’s restaurant, working shifts for him in exchange for a place to live, until you had been old enough to move to Seoul. You focused on the loneliness, on the knowledge that there was no one in this world at your side.

It always hit harder on your birthday, didn’t it?

When you felt ready, your eyes fluttered open, and you nodded at Yoongi, indicating that he could start the track you listened to for recording. You let the music fill you, syncing your soul with the chords that filled your ears until you were one with it. Until it was time to sing. Then you started singing, eyes shutting instinctively. You let the emotions guide your voice, let the loneliness formulate the lyrics.

It was over before you even realized it. The track fell silent, and still you kept your eyes shut.

“That was perfect,” Yoongi complimented you.

Even that wasn’t enough to bring your eyes to open. You had to take a few breaths, fighting the urge to break down that had taken over you. When the wave passed, you let your vision adjust to the world again, though it was blurry behind the bitter tears. You blinked them away, ignoring the feeling of Yoongi’s heavy gaze on your profile.

“Fucking finally,” you muttered, and you stepped away from the mic, taking off the headset.

Yoongi followed you with his eyes as you moved closer, putting the headset down next to his keyboard. “Don’t you want to hear?”

“I don’t need to.”

It wasn’t even confidence that motivated your words. Just nostalgia. Yoongi offered you a curt nod, before listening to it himself. He seemed satisfied with the result, because he nodded his head, rolling his chair away from the desk as he folded his arms on his chest. His gaze locked with yours, and a smile ghosted on his lips.

“I’ll send you the final result tomorrow,” he said.

You pursed your lips. “Sounds good. I guess I’ll get going then.”

You had half turned away from him when he spoke up. “Don’t you want another drink? That bottle was expensive.”

It really was. Way too expensive for your light wallet, but Yoongi was a whiskey connoisseur. You couldn’t have shown up with something less. Even if the bottle could have paid for your groceries for at least two weeks.

It wasn’t like you needed to eat three meals a day anyway, right? And with the money you were ought to make from the song, you could tighten the belt for a couple of weeks more.

“It’s fine,” you reassured him. “It’s late, I shouldn’t stay.”

Yoongi nodded, getting up from his chair. He hadn’t finished his glass yet, and he held your gaze as he downed it in one long gulp. You watched his throat muscle work, before letting your gaze drop to the ground.

“I’ll let you leave with the bottle then,” he said after he swallowed. “I have plenty of them already.”

“You really don’t have to,” you quickly said, with a panicked gaze.

He was smiling now. It took you by surprise. “Then you’re going to stay and drink another glass with me, mmh? We’re allowed to celebrate finishing the song.”

Hopefully it was the loneliness in you that made you say yes, and not the softness that took over Yoongi’s features. He seemed relieved, as if he had been embarrassed to ask, but he recovered quickly guiding you back to the kitchen area downstairs.

This time around, you took your time to admire his condo. To admire the simple elegance of the place. It was far more luxurious than your own apartment, which was a one bedroom with a single working light and water stains on the ceiling. Yoongi’s place was all but that. It was full of light, spotless, with scattered pieces of art to decorate. Nothing too excessive or fancy, and it almost made the condo look a little empty. As if Yoongi hadn’t really taken the time to decorate.

Or maybe he had just recently moved in, and his busy schedule was keeping him from decorating more.

“You’re lucky this is my favourite bottle,” he said with a friendly smile as you stopped next to the kitchen island, where you had left the whiskey earlier.

“Glad my guess was right.”

He wet his lips, before pouring himself another glass. He grabbed yours from the sink, pouring you a glass as well before offering it to you. “And here I thought you were a connoisseur.”

You didn’t have the money to be a connoisseur, so you just offered him a secretive smile, followed by, “Maybe I am”.

He chuckled, and then guided you to the living room. Another spacious room, with a rug in front of the couch you assumed was worth more than everything you owned. You tried not to let it show on your face, but you were pretty sure Yoongi could tell you were impressed.

The feeling was entirely replaced by surprise at the sight of the little dog that was sleeping in a dog bed under the wide window.

“Why haven’t I seen that dog before?” you asked, eyes widened.

“You like dogs?”

You nodded, and you took a couple of steps towards the animal. It almost looked dead where it was lying, but then the little dog looked up at you, blinking away sleepy eyes.

“He’s called Holly,” Yoongi provided as the dog got up, stretching and yawning. “He’s lazy.”

You faked offence for the dog. “Poor little baby, he’s just tired.”

Yoongi laughed, and the sound made you quickly look away from him. As much as it had been unexpected, it did wonders to the sadness that had been clinging to your form all day.

“Sorry Holly.”

It was your turn to laugh as the little dog barked before running to Yoongi, begging to be picked up. Yoongi took a sip of whiskey, before putting his glass down on the coffee table. He sat down on the couch, cuddling the dog to his chest as he got comfortable.

It was so domestic you just stood there, staring at him. He motioned to the couch next to him. “Have a seat.”

It broke the spell, and you blinked a few times before obeying, busying yourself with sipping the whiskey to ignore the way your cheeks were burning.

“How long have you had the dog?” you asked, trying to fill the silence that was threatening to fall into awkwardness.

And as Yoongi started telling you the tale of how he got his dog, you slowly settled yourself more comfortably on the couch, drinking the whiskey as you enjoyed listening to him. He looked far friendlier than you had ever seen him, and it slowly became easy to forget you were just a collaborator.

Maybe if it hadn’t been your birthday, you would have refused the third glass he offered. And maybe, maybe if your mind hadn’t started fogging with the alcohol, you would have refused the fourth.

By the time you started the fifth, you were drunk, and Holly had gone into hiding somewhere, letting you sit closer to Yoongi on the couch. Luckily enough for you, you could stand your alcohol pretty well, and you forced a mask on your features so Yoongi couldn’t tell just how inebriated you were.

Not that he was faring any better. Yoongi had a red flush to his cheeks, and he had run his hand in his hair earlier in a way that had let it ruffled. It made him look good, and you tilted your head to the side as you listened to him tell you about his recent concerts in Vegas.

“It’s funny,” you sighed as he fell silent to drink from his glass. “While you were having shows in Vegas I was busking in Hongdae.”

He swallowed the oaky alcohol, licking his lips dry from the drops that had lingered on them. “I saw videos of you busking.”

Your eyes widened, and you let out a small chuckle. “Please save me the embarrassment.”

He laughed, slightly shaking his head. As if the thought of you being embarrassing was the funniest joke he had ever heard in his life.

“Don’t be embarrassed, I’ve been there too.”

An eternity ago, maybe. But the condo around you looked nothing like someone that used to be a busker. “You’ve had far more success than I’ve ever had,” you said, voice low.

His eyes connected with yours, and for a moment all there was was the synchronized beating of your hearts. He was the one to break the contact, and it almost felt as if you were going to fall forward from the rupture.

“You’ll get your success too,” he whispered. “Your music is amazing.”

You blushed, but the flush from the alcohol did a good job at hiding it. “I do hope so.”

A smile played on his lips as he swirled the whiskey in his glass. He played with the rim of the glass, almost pensively. “Army will love your music.��

“Thank you,” you murmured. “For giving me this opportunity.”

“You deserve it.”

His gaze moved back to yours. Yoongi had pretty eyes, deep eyes that told tales of suffering and healing. He had gone through a lot, to get where he was now. From the interviews you had listened to, you actually had a similar past to his. And you felt understood, as he gazed at you. With a softness to his eyes you had never really seen anywhere else.

Min Yoongi had experienced the worst this world has to offer, but he had also experienced the best. You could only hope your turn would come someday.

You took a sip, holding his gaze for a moment, before cowering away. “You know,” you started. And you didn’t really know what to say. Only thought he might understand. “It was my birthday, today.”

He straightened, surprise moving on his drunken features. “Was it?”

You nodded.

“Happy birthday,” he said, with a grave voice.

You shifted a little closer to him, only because he was looking at you with too much intensity for you to resist. The air turned warm, hot, filled with expectancy.

“Thank you.” You wet your lips, and you didn’t miss the way his eyes darted to your mouth before meeting your gaze again. “Thank you for letting me record it.”

“I hope it helped.”

Another nod of your head, as you took yet another sip of the whiskey. This time mostly because the feeling inside of you needed to be ignored. To be avoided at all costs.

Too bad alcohol kills the inhibition, right?

You couldn’t even tell who did the first move. All you knew was that your glass was snatched from your hands, put down on the coffee table and then you were tasting the alcohol on Yoongi’s lips. The kiss was ravaging, taking your loneliness and burning it down, until all you could feel was Yoongi’s body under your hungry hands.

His own hands were all over you too. On your back, on the nape of your neck, in your hair. One large hand sneaked to the front until it had wrapped around your breast, and you moaned in his mouth. You grabbed a handful of his hair and sucked on his bottom lip as he pulled you closer.

You climbed on his lap, and you held yourself on his shoulders as your mouth found his again, kissing him with no restraint, no inhibition. Min Yoongi was a damn good kisser. It made you ache with want, as you imagined the other things his wicked tongue could do…

The hand on your breast hadn’t really moved since it had found it, so you put one of yours above it, pushing it harder. Searching for more pressure, more friction, anything that would make you forget the loneliness of the day.

Maybe Yoongi was trying to forget something too. You didn’t really care. It wasn’t like your brain could think past this moment or the next. All you were focused on was the now, and the bulge you were currently perched on.

You grinded your hips, probably a little too hard, and Yoongi grunted, pulling you closer, grabbing your hips until he could hold you in place. Yet he didn’t resist as you rocked your hips again, and the hold he had on your hips only turned you on even more.

You moved from his mouth to his neck, trailing wet kisses down until the collar of his shirt, and then up to his ear. He threw his head back to rest it on the couch, exposing the pretty column of his neck. You sucked on his Adam’s apple next, before finding his lips for yet another heated kiss.

As you kissed, tongues entwined, your hands moved down his chest, searching for the hem of his shirt. You pulled away from him just long enough to rid him of the piece of clothing, and you didn’t even look back to see where you had dropped it. You were too busy crashing your mouth on his again, chasing the remnants of the whiskey. He kissed you back with the same intensity, his large hands still holding your hips, though he let you have control of your movements.

The thought he was letting you do whatever you wanted made your blood sing, and you pulled away to kneel between his legs. He was breathing heavily as his eyes opened, meeting your gaze while you were working on his belt. You struggled with it for a bit, and he offered a helping hand as you moved to caress the length of him through his jeans. He instinctively bucked his hips, and you put your face down on his thigh as he finished unbuckling his belt.

You looked up at him innocently, before begrudgingly lifting your head so you could take off his pants. He pushed up from the couch just enough for the jeans to move under his ass, and soon enough all that was left between you and him was the white fabric of his boxer briefs. You barely hesitated before kissing the hardening length, and his hands clenched into fists on each side of him. It made you feel wicked, and you replaced your lips with your teeth, though you didn’t bite down.

Your goal wasn’t to hurt him after all. You just wanted to see how far Min Yoongi would go before begging you to suck his dick. So you teased him, teased the sensitive cock that was growing harder from all your ministrations. But you never gave in, never pulled the underwear down.

Yoongi breathed out an annoyed breath, and you smirked up at him. “Is there something that you want?”

His mouth fell open, and he looked startled that you asked, as if it wasn’t already clear what he wanted.

You landed another kiss on the tip of his dick, licking at the wet spot where his precum had leaked through the fabric. “Don’t you want something?”

He nodded.

“You’ll have to tell me with words,” you purred, and the smirk on your lips turned devilish as you pulled his underwear down, just enough for his cock to rest free on his stomach. You waited for him to say something, tutting as he just remained silent, with that same widened gaze as before. “Then what am I supposed to do?”

“Suck my dick,” he said with a small voice.

You cocked an eyebrow. “Isn’t there something missing?”

He almost looked scared for a moment. Intimidated for sure. Even if he was the big name between the two of you, you currently had him wrapped around your finger.

“Please?” he tried.

“Good boy.”

You finally gave in to your desires and his, eyes dropping to the dick in front of you. As everything that came with Yoongi, his cock was pretty. Large enough that you knew it’d be a stretch, with a pretty tip that shone red. A bead of precum appeared on the slit, and you immediately leaned in, licking it.

Yoongi hissed, and from the corner of your eyes you could see his knuckles were turning white from how hard he was clenching his fists.

“You can touch me, you know,” you told him, grabbing one of his hands.

You meant to put it in your hair, but instead Yoongi grabbed a hold of your hand, his long fingers keeping you from moving.

Well, this was a start. You didn’t usually hold hands when you were sucking someone’s dick, but if that was what he wanted, then you were happy to oblige.

You got to work, licking a long stripe from the base of his dick up to the head, swirling your tongue around the most sensitive part before letting your lips close around it. You sucked on it, resting your tongue flat against the length of him before you went down, slowly, taking in as much of him as you could. You stopped when he hit the back of your throat, and he grunted once again. His free hand flew to your hair, pulling it to the side so he could look at you.

You moved back up, playing with his frenulum as he was almost out before going down again, quicker this time.

Yoongi never forced you to suck his dick. Only hissed and grunted, as you worked on him, his dick hardening in your mouth with every bob of your head. He tasted good, and you started going faster, just to hear more of the pretty sounds he let out when he hit the back of your throat.

You moaned around him, testing the waters to see if he liked that. Most guys usually did, and Yoongi wasn’t any different. He met your gaze, and he looked spent for a moment, a panting mess under the ministrations of your mouth.

He licked his lips as you hollowed your cheeks, drawing circles on his dick before you pulled out. You sat back on your heels, jerking him off quickly as you met his gaze.

“I want to sit on your face.”

If he was surprised, he gave you no indications of it. Only let go of your hand so he could lie down on the couch. You let out a small laugh, cocking your head to the side.

“You’ll have to undress me first.”

“Right,” he muttered, and he sat up quickly, hands reaching for you.

You couldn’t resist moving closer until you could press your lips on his. He wasn’t expecting it, and it took him a few seconds before he was kissing you back with the same fervor you had applied to his dick. Which was a lot, and you moaned in his mouth as his tongue found yours. You let him have dominance this time, just because his hands were undressing you, unbuttoning your pants and fighting to get them down your legs.

You pulled away from the kiss so you could stand up, and a second later your pants were pooling around your ankles. You weren’t wearing particularly attractive panties, so you took them off yourself, and the piece of clothing met your pants on the ground a second before you were stepping out of the pile.

You took off your shirt yourself as you were climbing on his lap again, and you grinded on his dick once before motioning to the couch. “Lay down.”

He wet his lips, nodding a single time before he started moving. You stood just long enough for him to be able to lay down, and then you were already climbing back on top of him, legs on each side of his face. He grabbed your thighs as you lowered yourself on him, and the first lap of his tongue on you had your eyes rolling to the back of your head.

You hadn’t been wrong. Yoongi knew how to use that wicked tongue of his. Dipping it deep inside of you to get a taste, before focusing on your clit. Torturing it with a light pressure, until you grinded into his face to seek for more. He got the message then and he flattened his tongue, pressing into you harder, lapping you in time with the grinding of your hips.

Unfortunately for you, you had never really been able to come when you were drunk. No matter how hard you chased the high, it always evaded you. Yoongi was by far the best you had had in a while. Or it was just the fact he was Min Yoongi, and he was pliant to all your wishes. Listening to you when you told him to press circles on your clit, obeying when you suggested sucking instead.

He really was wrapped around your finger, wasn’t he?

“Fuck, you’re so good,” you praised him, the sentence finishing in a moan. It only made him work harder, and your legs were shaking by the time you spoke again. “Do you have condoms?”

He couldn’t reply. Not when you were riding his face like that. So you reluctantly moved down his body, and he gulped in air as you sat back on his dick.

“Fuck,” he muttered.

You let out an unexpected laugh, and a smile appeared on his lips. It disappeared as soon as you crashed your mouth on his, and he grabbed your face to kiss you deeply. His chin was wet from your juice, but you didn’t care. You tasted all of yourself on him, licking him clean until you were satisfied.

When you sat back on him, he had a dazed expression on his features. His hair was a mess all around his head, and you let out another small laugh as you bent, just enough for your hands to reach the strands, taming them gently.

His eyes had gone dark when you straightened again. You wondered if what you had done was wrong, but you didn’t want to know. So you moved your hips, circling on his dick, and he hissed again.

“Do you have condoms?” you repeated the question.

His hands rested on your thighs, caressing them up and down as he said, “In my bedroom”.

You grinded again. “As much as I’d like for you to fuck me raw, we should get a condom.” You got up, albeit reluctantly, and you offered him a hand.

The perspective that he was about to fuck you probably chased whatever darkness had invaded him, because he grabbed your hand as he stood, before bending down to take his whiskey glass too. He chugged it, and you only had time to take a hold of yours before he was pulling you behind him.

You drank small sips of your glass as you followed Yoongi, eyes falling to his ass. It was pretty, and you were once again struck with how everything was pretty when it came to Min Yoongi. For all the rough edges of his professional personality, Yoongi was pretty, with softness behind the mask.

And you could glimpse at the softness, as he pulled you behind him, uncaring that you were both naked halfway up his staircase. His thumb drew circles on the back of your hand, absentmindedly, and you held his hand a little tighter.

It did feel less lonely, all of a sudden.

Min Yoongi’s bedroom was dark. Walls painted in a dark shade of grey, comforter ink black. The only light thing in his room was the canvas over the headboard of his bed. A painting, abstract at that, in shades of white and beige that seemed like a beacon in the darkness of the wall. The furniture in the room was black too, and the tiled ceramic floor completed the décor in its own shade of grey, almost matching the paint on the wall.

The room was tidy, so tidy you weren’t even sure anyone lived here. But then Yoongi let go of your hand, carelessly walking to a night table, and his gaze slid to you as you stopped at the entrance.

You cocked your head to the side, downing the rest of your glass with your eyes still holding on to his gaze. His chest moved quickly, up and down, as if he was out of breath. And maybe he was, and the predatory look you set on him made adrenaline run through his blood. He wet his lips, and his gaze dropped, before sliding to his bedside table.

He fished a condom out of it, and he was about to tear the package open when you talked.

“Let me do it.”

He froze, and then a smirk moved on his lips. It made everything in you sing with burning lust, and you crossed the distance between the two of you. You dropped your glass on the bedside table, before biting in your bottom lip as you turned to face him. He held out the package for you to take, and you took it from his long fingers. You had expected his hand to drop at his side, but he instead moved it between the two of you, cupping your breast through the bralette you were wearing.

You gulped, instinctively stepping closer to press his hand harder against you, just the way you liked it. He understood, and his other hand cupped your other breast. He massaged them, hard, pinching your nipples through the fabric of the bralette. The friction of the fabric on the sensitive buds had stars forming on the periphery of your vision, and you let out a moan as you tore the package of the condom open, fishing the actual condom out with eager fingers.

You didn’t have time to reach down to his dick before Yoongi moved on his knees. He sucked on the skin of your thigh, hard, leaving a purple bruise behind that he soothed with a kiss.

“Let me just eat you out more, mmh?”

You didn’t have the ability to say no, so you sat on his bed and pulled his head closer to your heat, other hand clutching the condom so it wouldn’t fall on the comforter.

Yoongi’s tongue truly was skilled. And it moved fast on your clit. You could see the mirage of an orgasm on the horizon, but the alcohol in your blood kept it away, frustratingly so. Even when Yoongi slid two fingers inside of you, curling them to hit a sweet spot inside of you. It felt divine, and you moaned for him, telling him just how good he was. It made him work harder, and he eventually whined, resting his head on your thigh to look at you.

“I want to feel you on my dick,” he said, and he sounded almost shy. As if voicing his desires was forbidden.

You bit your lip again, letting out a ragged breath as your heart beat wildly in your chest, almost drowning out his words. “Then get on the bed.”

He didn’t need to be told twice. He quickly laid down next to you, stroking his dick as you kneeled next to him. You swatted the hand away, and he smirked again as you started rolling the condom down his length. You jerked him off a couple of times when you were done, before climbing on his lap.

He watched you carefully. As if he was only then realizing what was happening. He still let you position him at your entrance, and you sunk down, just enough for his tip to start parting your folds.

“Can I?” you asked, stopping there.

He wet his lips. “Please.”

It was your turn to smirk wickedly, as you sunk down on him until most of him was inside of you. It stretched, but he had prepared you so well he slid right in, and you moaned as he bottomed out.

“You’re big,” you praised him. “What a good fucking boy.”

His hands flew to your hips, fingers digging in the supple skin. “You say that as if you’re not fucking wet for me.”

Oh. Min Yoongi did have a dominant bone in him.

“Aish,” you moaned. “You’re going to fuck me, mmh?”

He sat up a little, wrapping an arm around your waist before pulling you down with him. “If you ask so nicely.”

You were surprised by the small laugh that fell from your mouth, but it quickly died as Yoongi started jackhammering his hips against yours, his dick fucking into your walls so deliciously, your eyes rolled to the back of your head. He held you tight against him as he fucked you, and your dominant side returned as he let out a moan in your ear.

Your hand snaked between your bodies, until it was wrapped around his throat, finding the two sides of it. You cut the blood supply to his brain, fingers digging in the arteries, and he let out a louder moan this time, something that somehow resembled your name. Still he didn’t slow down, and you sucked on the side of his jaw, mouth needing to do something to muffle the pleasured sounds that kept tumbling from it.

You released your grip on Yoongi’s throat after a time, and you moved until you could catch his lips for a quick yet languid kiss. You swallowed the grunts he let out before sitting up on him. He only then slowed the roll of his hips, and his eyes fluttered open to meet yours.

“Let me fuck myself on you a little,” you said, head cocked to the side. “I want to make you feel good.”

“Please.”

You didn’t need more to start moving, slowly, in a dance that had to be frustrating to him after the relentless pace he had set. Yet it felt heavenly, stretching all of you wide open, the drag of his dick along your velvet walls making you reach for something to hold on to. It turned out to be your breasts, and your hands slipped under the bralette as you palmed yourself.

“So fucking good,” you breathed, and Yoongi’s large hands settled on your hips again, guiding you on him.

Making you roll your hips more, impaling you on him until he was fully in.

“I think I could fuck you all night,” he declared, and he seemed astonished. As if he hadn’t expected the ordeal to feel this good. And it did feel good, far more than you had ever thought it could.

“Hope you have good stamina then,” you said, half teasing, but the lustful look adorning his gaze told you that he just might fuck you all night.

“For you?” He wet his lips, moaning as you circled your hips in just the right way. “Fuck, I could come like this.”

Surprisingly enough, he didn’t let you continue. He stilled your hips, before sitting up again. He wrapped an arm around your waist, and the following moment disappeared in your mind, dizziness taking the forefront of the scene as Yoongi spun you until you were lying down, with him on top of you.

It took him a few seconds to realize he might have moved you too quickly, but he soon said, “Are you okay?”

You huffed out a breath, eyes fluttering closed. “That was dizzying.”

He chuckled, and he pushed back inside of you. You hadn’t felt him fall out, but you sure as hell felt him as he slowly slid in, all the way.

“I wanted to see what you look like under me.”

You opened your eyes, and you were relieved to see the world was not turning as much anymore. “Like the sight?” you teased, and your hand shot between you to press circles on your clit, lazily.

“Fuck,” he grunted, and then he was thrusting into you again, fast and hard.

You cried out a delighted moan and you timed your ministrations on your clit with his movements, until everything seemed to blend in together.

Yoongi fucked you for a while. He did have good stamina, and the more you praised him the more he kept going, with sweat dripping from his forehead, wetting locks of his hair. He looked sinfully good, the sounds he made a melody you had never imagined you’d hear, one that mixed with your own moans until it was a song, of passion and desire and everything in between.

You couldn’t quite tell how long it lasted. Only that Yoongi’s movement grew sloppier, his breathing ragged as he bent down to hide his face in your neck. He sucked a spot on your skin, and your hand found the nape of his neck to hold him in place.

“I think we’re too drunk,” you murmured as Yoongi slid in and out, slowly, but never fully stopping.

“You feel so good.”

You chuckled, and your fingers drew circles on his scalp for a few seconds before you replied, “We won’t come”.

Yoongi persisted for a time, dragging his length inside of you until you started digging your nails in the skin of his back. “Right.” He thrusted in twice more, before stopping all the way in, his dick fully impaling you. “You just feel so good.”

You stayed like that for a time, unmoving, your breaths in sync as your hearts slowly returned to a normal rhythm. Yoongi’s dick had gone soft by the time he pulled out, yet he remained on top of you, breathing in your scent.

“I should go,” you said after what felt like an eternity. Your eyelids were drooping, and you held him close to you as you spoke the words.

“Stay for the night,” Yoongi murmured, his lips moving against your neck. His voice was deep, scratchy, and it made you want to be closer to him, until you were blended with his soul.

He was comfort. For a reason unknown, Min Yoongi was comfort personified, and you really didn’t want to go. Even if you were slowly coming down from the buzz of alcohol. You sighed, before pushing him to the side.

“You’re crushing me,” you admitted, and he let out a small chuckle, before rolling to the side.

He settled next to you, an arm draped around your stomach, face nuzzled into your neck. His proximity felt strange. For someone that usually seemed closed off, Min Yoongi appeared to have let you in… tonight.

Was it the song, or the fact that you had been alone on your birthday? Had he found pity in you, and tried to gift you with his own form of comfort? It made you feel pathetic, but his steady breathing as he fell asleep calmed you down, melted your worries away, until sleep found you in its hold too.

Yoongi didn’t let go of you while he slept.

*****

Dawn was grey. Colourless, as if the sun was the source of all colours in this world. As if its absence kept the colours at bay, changed them into shades of black and grey that melted together in a strange picture. It was unfamiliar, foreign, as if you weren’t supposed to be awake at this hour.

It took you a moment to realize the greyness wasn’t from dawn, but from the colour on the walls. A moment longer for the pounding in your head to awaken, reminding you of the alcohol you had ingested the night before.

You weren’t at home. In fact, you were lying on a mattress far more comfortable than anything you could ever own, in a luxurious yet sparsely decorated room that was far from your own.

The comforter had slipped from your body as you slept, and you shivered from the chill air. A breeze was playing in the curtains by the window, and it smelled of rain, though the panes of the window were still dry. You turned your head to the side, afraid of the sight that would come.

Min Yoongi looked like a prince, lying next to you. His hair formed a crown around his head where it rested on the pillow, and his soft features looked regal in the morning light. His mouth was slightly opened, and little snores came out of him each time he exhaled.

His hand had fallen from your stomach at some point in the night. It rested next to you now, fingers reaching towards you but not really touching. As if he had never meant to let go in the first place. Still, you were glad he had.

Because with the morning, reality rushed back in.

It ceased you, grabbed your heart and squeezed it in your chest as you watched him sleep for a moment longer. Just because he was peaceful, and you wished to revel in the peace. Refused to let reality crush this moment, not before you had it committed to memory, locking it up in a safe corner of your heart.

But when it was locked up, you took the key and threw it away, never to be found again.

You blinked the grogginess away, eyes searching around you for your clothes. It took you a few seconds to remember you had discarded all of the fabric downstairs last night, except your bralette, and you winced at the thought that you would have to go down there naked to get dressed again.

You sat up, shivering once again in the chill air, goosebumps raising on your flesh until your skin looked pricked by it. You glanced at Yoongi before getting up. The song came back to your mind – the gut-wrenching lyrics screaming of loneliness, of never finding solace in people’s company, of seeking for a family that never comes.

Loneliness felt worse in the grey light of dawn. And right on cue, rain started splattering on the window, drowning out the sounds of Yoongi sleeping, and the rustle of the sheets as you slipped out of the bed.

The ceramic floor was warm under your feet, and you tiptoed your way to the door. Not daring to look back, barely even daring to breathe. You didn’t want Yoongi to wake up, not when you were about to leave without saying goodbye.

For some reason, you thought he might understand. You thought Yoongi could understand that loneliness sometimes needed to be dealt with alone. No matter how salvaging last night had been for the lone heart in your chest, the morning called for something else. For reality to settle back in. What had happened last night was unprofessional, inherently so, and it filled you with dread.

Maybe that was the reason you were fleeing after all.

You reached the door, hand settling on the knob. You couldn’t resist looking back then, as if you just needed to make sure that this moment had been real. Yoongi’s hands had moved a little while you were walking away, fingers reaching for your warmth. A frown moved on his features as he didn’t find it, but they relaxed as he exhaled loudly.

He was still sound asleep, and infinitely peaceful. You hoped nothing would ever break his peace.

You slipped out of the bedroom, shutting the door soundlessly behind you before walking down to the living room, where you put on your clothes. You had half a thought of leaving a note behind, to explain why you hadn’t stayed, but you didn’t know where Yoongi might have paper in his condo, and you didn’t want to linger around long enough for him to wake up.

You were putting on your shoes when he appeared at the top of the stairs, draped in a white robe to keep the cold at bay. His features were back in the same icy mask he had sported at the beginning of the night yesterday, and you gulped as he stared you down.

“You’re leaving early,” he stated as he leaned against the wall, folding his arms on his chest.

His hair was a mess from last night – long gone was the crown you had woken up to see. He looked unkempt, and there was a line from his pillow on his face. It made him look human, terribly so, and you felt bad for wanting to leave.

“I don’t think I belong here,” you admitted.

With a small voice, as small as the fear inside of you. Because yes, you were lonely. But being here in this too big condo with someone that was just supposed to be a work collaborator… it made you feel out of place.

A line appeared between Yoongi’s brows, and he pushed up from the wall to start walking down the stairs. “I invited you to sleep over, you have all the rights to be here.”

You wet your lips, chasing the frustration of not being understood away. “I mean, we shouldn’t have done that, should we?” You watched as Yoongi finished walking down the stairs, sitting on the very last step. “It was fun, I won’t deny it, but it was unprofessional.”

He leaned against the wall again, looking at you with a gaze that made you feel naked, as if he was seeing right through your soul. You turned your head away, wanting to flee but not having the courage to do so when his eyes were on you. As if, if you stayed unmoving, maybe the whole situation would disappear. Maybe he wouldn’t see you anymore, the way that he was seeing you now.

“It was,” he agreed, to your surprise. “I’m not big on regrets though, I’ve had enough of them for a lifetime.”

“I-” you caught yourself before you added more.

I what? I don’t regret it? I’m not big on regrets either? Why then did this morning taste awfully like regret?

Yoongi just held your gaze, not prodding but visibly expecting you to continue. Maybe you owed him as much.

“I’m just afraid it will ruin our professional relationship,” you admitted.

His gaze dropped to the floor. “I thought so. I can always push back releasing the song if you prefer.”

Your eyes widened, right as your heart stopped in your chest. Did he know how much you needed the money? Did he know that you were on the verge of giving up on your dreams because you couldn’t afford your apartment?

“I don’t know,” you said, and it was true. You didn’t know if you wanted to risk not releasing the song, but you didn’t know if you wanted to keep working with Yoongi in the immediate future either.

You needed to get rid of the loneliness alone after all.

“Then think about it,” Yoongi suggested. “I can always pay for all the work that you did, and if you feel like releasing it some day you just let me know.”

You pursed your lips. It was a good idea. A decent suggestion, yet it felt wrong. Because releasing the song was certain to open up the world to you. Or so you had been hoping. Could you give up on that dream?

“I will,” you said. “I’ll think about it, and I’ll let you know.”

Yoongi nodded, before stretching his legs in front of him. “Can we talk before you leave though?”

You didn’t know what he wanted to talk about. Only knew that the longer you were to stay here, the more the loneliness was going to drown you.

“What is there to talk about?”

His features turned grave. You were struck that he looked as if he was going to announce the end of the world, as if the Earth was about to stop turning and you’d all crash into a wall at eighty miles per hour.

“I have to admit something,” he said. His eyes found the floor again, though he had been avoiding your gaze for a moment now. “I have someone in my life.”

A lump formed in your throat. A disgusting, guilty lump that tasted like bile. “You cheated on someone with me?”

He slowly shook his head no. “We’re on a break. I just thought you deserved to know.”

The loneliness was real. It was a feeling you knew all too well, in all of its labyrinths and corners. It wove its way in every crevice of your soul, and God knew your soul was filled with crevices. With cracks, from all the times you had needed to glue yourself back together.

“Oh.”

It was all you could voice as the enormity of his revelation dawned on you. Was that why he had looked upset yesterday? Had he tried to forget his own loneliness by drowning in you?

Had it worked?

“I’m sorry.”

Min Yoongi did look apologetic, but you found him a coward. A coward for avoiding your gaze like he was right now, for looking devastated sitting there on the stairs. And maybe he truly was devastated, if he was on a break with the person that he loved.

Why had you come when you were at your most vulnerable?

“Thank you for your honesty,” you said, voice blanched with the horror in you. Because you were horrified, to think you had slept with a man that belonged to another. Though the pounding in your head reminded you that it was alcohol that had caused the ordeal, that it wasn’t you, and you clung to that thought.

Because if your inhibitions hadn’t been lowered, you would have never slept with Min Yoongi.

He remained silent for a little eternity, and then somewhere in himself he found the courage to look at you again. You almost wished he hadn’t.

“Do you want me to send you the song today, still?”

It was a fair question. One that could bring you back in the charted territory of your professional relationship. It felt safer, and you let out a shaky breath to calm the pit in your chest.

The pit had always been there, you reckoned. It just was harder to ignore on this dreadful dawn.

“Sure,” you answered, though you had no intention to listen to it.

No, it was probably better to put this all in the past. To forget the comfort Yoongi had brought to you last night. You almost wished you had been able to run before he’d woken up, but you weren’t a coward. This conversation would have been needed at some point.

“Is there something you want to say?” Yoongi enquired, gently. With a voice that sounded far older than he was, far wiser than he had to be.

“I don’t know.” You parted your lips as you wanted to continue speaking, but nothing came out. So you shut your mouth, rocking back and forth on your heels as anxiety spiked through you, replacing the initial horror. “I am sorry it happened.”

He shrugged. “Don’t be. As I told you, I don’t do regrets anymore.”

You would have liked to be able to tell if he was lying, but Min Yoongi was an unreadable book when he wanted to be.

“I hope you fix your relationship,” you said. You really did, if only to forget last night had ever happened. He remained silent, lips stretched in a tight smile. “I…” you trailed off, and it was your turn to lower your gaze to the floor. “I appreciated last night, though.”

He wet his lips. “I won’t lie to you. I appreciated it too.”

“But life is life, isn’t it?” It was a rhetorical question, one he didn’t reply to. “I guess I’ll go.”

He sighed, loud enough for you to hear. It wasn’t an annoyed sigh. No, it sounded as if he was holding the weight of the world on his shoulders.

So much for not regretting, uh?

“I’ll send you the song,” he reiterated. “Please take care of yourself.”

It made a drop of anger fall in the ocean of loneliness you were drowning in. Because you had shown him the darkness in you last night, and he had hidden the truth from you. And maybe he didn’t even owe it to you, you just wished he had said something last night, before it was too late.

Before your body knew that it was molded to fit his perfectly.

“Will do,” you replied curtly.

You turned away from him then, hoping he couldn’t see the hurt in your eyes. You didn’t even know if you were allowed to be hurt. Didn’t even know if you were actually hurt, or if you just needed to be alone.

In all the misery that it brought you, loneliness was your comfort zone.

*****

The days had stretched into eternity, busking keeping your mind from rushing back to the events you had partaken in with Min Yoongi. Minhyuk had been appalled, when you had told him that the song would likely never be released. You had told him enough about what had happened with Yoongi, without ever really confirming that you had slept together, yet Minhyuk hadn’t let it go.

He only had when you had received the money Min Yoongi had promised to pay, earlier this afternoon. It was an astronomical sum for someone who got by with busking. As your contract with Minhyuk asked for, you had shared half the sum with him, and still it left you with far more money than you had ever owned.

Min Yoongi hadn’t offered an explanation as to why he had paid you so much money. And you hadn’t asked for one yet, choosing to go to Hongdae to change your mind instead. To remind you that busking was who you were, even if you hadn’t rented an area for tonight.

No, tonight you would just walk around and watch people live their lives. Happy, smiling, unaware of the abyss you felt like you were drowning in.

Seeing Min Yoongi on your birthday had been a mistake. The anger had turned into something else, something far more intimidating. Disgust with yourself, with your acts and your choices. Regret that you hadn’t stopped when you should have, and that he hadn’t said anything before it was too late.

You wondered if he was back with the person that owned his heart. If you leaving like that had pushed him back in their arms, if their relationship had found grounds to work again.

You were jealous. But also hurt… because Yoongi had been comfort. You wished you had told him, wish he had known what it had meant for you to be with him on your birthday like that. When you laid awake at night, sleep evading you, you wondered if it would have made a difference.

Would Min Yoongi have let you go on that dreadful dawn if you had told him?

You couldn’t know. But then again, sometimes, during those same sleepless nights, you wondered if it was too late. If there was a chance you could tell him. If he had chosen not to get back with his partner.

If he too sometimes laid awake at night thinking about your body against his.

Loneliness was making you go crazy inside.

You sighed, taking a deep breath of the fresh evening air. Hongdae was lively. Filled with laughter and chatter. And with your own dark cloud, that seemed to loom over you wherever you went now.

You were at a low point in life. You were aware of it. It was hard to see the good in things when you had turned your back on the little sense of company you had been able to find in Yoongi. Though he hadn’t really been company, no? Just a brief connection in a sea of temporary people.

Only Minhyuk stayed around, and he only did because he worked for you.

But the money… The money was more than you had ever thought you’d have. It made you wonder, was that what celebrities made when they worked together? Why such astronomical sums for people that didn’t even need money in the first place?

Or maybe Yoongi had known that you were struggling with money. Maybe that was his way of apologizing. You weren’t prideful enough to hate him for it. As a matter of fact, you had been debating calling him to thank him, or even going to his place. Maybe that was why you were in Hongdae after all.

Long walks to clear your mind usually always worked, didn’t they?

A couple in front of you burst out laughing, and the guy grabbed his girlfriend’s hand, pulling her in a hug. Public displays of affection were rare in Korea, but Hongdae held a different crowd. A looser one, that didn’t live up to the expectations of elders. It was a crowd you found you rather enjoyed, especially as you busked and they enjoyed your music.

You brought happiness to their lives, didn’t you? Why then was happiness evading you?

You scoffed, and the guy threw you a glance. Your eyes dipped to the floor, and you almost winced in embarrassment. You thought about telling him that you weren’t scoffing because of him, but it would have been useless, wouldn’t it?

His attention was already back on his girlfriend, as if he was but the mere moon and she the Earth. It was cute. It really was, in a heart-wrenching kind of way.

So much for dealing with loneliness alone, right?

You wanted to talk to Yoongi. Wanted to thank him, wanted to let him know he had been the first to make you feel something in a long time. Hell, you hadn’t had sex in over a year before him.

Could you just go and talk to him? Could you tell him that you had been too shaken that morning, and that you hadn’t been able to tell him the thoughts in your skull? Your imprisoned mind, clustered in a dark corner of your head, had been subdued to your loneliness.

Surely he would understand.

A group of friends walked past you, and their joy felt contagious. You wanted to cling to the feeling of your lips stretching into a smile, wanted to use the warmth they carried themselves with to forget the cold in you.

Being a lyricist made you far too dramatic for your own good, didn’t it? Because you could see around yourself, people that were alone too. Walking with their hands in their pockets, with light in their eyes as they watched the scene around you. It didn’t have to be a sad scene. You didn’t have to cling to the sadness.

It didn’t matter that it was your comfort zone. If you ever wanted to get better, you had to stop using it as a shield. Had to shrug the coat off, and step into the summer warmth, leaving the winter cold behind.

Only, it was still cold at this time of the year.

You thought about Minhyuk. Minhyuk, who had always believed in you. Who trusted that you would make it someday, that he just had to encourage you in the process. Minhyuk, who had fallen in love with one of his friends, and had a beautiful love story to call his now.

There was happiness in this world. And you weren’t selfish enough to believe you didn’t deserve happiness. It was just hard to find it when your family had forgotten about you, when you woke up to learn he belonged to another.

You didn’t have feelings for Min Yoongi. At least you tried to convince yourself of it. You didn’t really know what you felt. Only that what had happened on your birthday had to be caused by more than just the alcohol. Because it hadn’t been your first time being vulnerable and drunk in a man’s company. It had been your first time jumping on that man though.

You had enjoyed working with him. Had found his work ethic inspiring, and had felt as if your soul was singing whenever you worked on music together. There was something in Min Yoongi that resonated in you, as if his existence triggered a harmonious frequency inside of you. A terribly unprofessional harmonious frequency, yet you hadn’t found friction to slow it down. Only had your treacherous thoughts and sleepless nights.

Maybe talking to him would release you. Would free the mind that was clustered in your skull, would let it fly into the sky again, to soar above clouds and mountains and valleys.

You probably needed it. Needed to say thank you for the money, and tell him you would find the strength to listen to the song someday. Just not when you were already so vulnerable.

And a hidden, dark corner of your heart also wanted to tell him how you had felt that night. Wanted to tell him he was comfort personified, and that you were thankful you had had the chance to experience it, even if it had been but a mere, fleeting moment in your life.

A romantic through and through, weren’t you?

Or maybe it was just Hongdae’s air, and the ambiance it held. Of happiness, that you could find if only you reached out far enough.

And life was about risk, wasn’t it? If you never talked to Min Yoongi, never told him the thoughts in your imprisoned mind, then you would be stuck with them for the rest of your life. Stuck with their decaying form, until they turned your memory into a prison in and of itself too.

You didn’t want the memory of Min Yoongi to turn into decay. Wanted to remember the good parts of it and let go of the bad. He was the one saying he didn’t do regrets anymore, wasn’t he?

Maybe you didn’t have to regret this either. But for that, you needed to tell him the feelings in your mind.

You sighed, feeling as if a weight had been lifted from your shoulders. Long walks really did wonders to you, didn’t they?

You should have left your apartment before.

Instead of beating yourself up for it, you took a few steadying breaths, before heading straight to the nearest subway station. It wasn’t particularly late, and by chance you’d get to his place before the hour would be indecent.

It wasn’t like night hours were indecent to Min Yoongi. He was a night owl, much like you were too. Him letting you in his condo the last time at such a late hour was proof enough of it.

It was in that mindset that you made your way to his condo, with no gifts this time. Considering where the last time had led you, you didn’t want to risk offering him anything. You just wanted to talk. To tell him thank you for that night. For making you realize that you weren’t quite alone in this big wide universe.

This time, Min Yoongi wasn’t outside when you arrived. It occurred to you that there was a possibility he wasn’t even home, but then again he had always come off to you as the kind of person that usually stayed in most of the time. So you walked into the building, nodding your head curtly at the security.

It was the same person you had seen the two other times you were here, and you had become familiar enough to them so that they’d let you pass without asking a question. You were glad for it – you didn’t know what you would have told them anyway. You had no business being here, belonged to an entire other world.

Still, you found yourself on Min Yoongi’s door mat. Fist hovering in front of the door, not daring to knock or ring the bell. You stayed there for a good five minutes, trying to assemble enough courage to make a move, but all you could do was stare.

It seemed staring was enough, because five minutes later, after you rang the bell, the door turned on its hinges, and Min Yoongi appeared.

His gaze widened, quite at the same time as yours did. Blood flushed your cheeks, and you let your hand fall at your side.

“Seonbaenim,” you greeted him, an echo of your greeting the last time you had seen him. Your lips stretched into an easy smile, and you wondered if your heart picking up its rate in your chest was a normal physiological response to the presence of Min Yoongi.

Maybe it was.

Yoongi didn’t move. In fact, he looked as if he was holding his breath, and as if all colour had leached from his features.

You understood why when a small figure appeared behind him, and all colour leached from your features next.

“What’s wrong?” she asked, and her eyes slid to you. “Who’s that?”

Your brain went empty. Entirely empty. There was the sound of ringing, but everything else was distant, as your vision blurred on the edges, until all there was was a tunnel leading right to Min Yoongi’s pretty features.

The moment stretched into infinity, and your heart rocked against your ribcage three times before Yoongi spoke. You didn’t hear his voice, only saw the lips you had been kissing just a couple of weeks ago moving. And then the pretty girl disappeared from view, features casted into a frown, and all that was left was Min Yoongi and you. Him, inside of his home; you, in the hallway.

It felt like two entire different worlds.

“I didn’t know you were going to come,” he said.

Sensations rushed back to you, and your gaze dropped to the floor.

“I…” you trailed off.

“Is it about the song?”

All you could do was nod, as you blanched standing there. And you did blanch, as if all your blood had exited your body. It was dizzying, and oxygen felt foreign in your lungs.

He led you inside. Right to the studio. You could hear the girl talking as you made your way there, likely to the dog from the sounds of it. And then Yoongi shut the door of his studio, and the sounds faded to nothing.

“I’m sorry.”

It was all he said, as you just stood there not knowing where to look. Not knowing what to do. Not knowing if it was right for you to be in here.

“Oh,” you let out. You wet your lips – had they been so dry this whole time? “I came to say thank you for the money.”

He watched you carefully for a few beats of silence, before replying, “You deserved it”.

You chuckled. Bitterly, achingly, or somewhere in between. “I’m not sure I’m worth all of that.”

“I paid you the amount of money your work is worth,” he declared simply. He moved in the room, sitting in the chair in front of the desk. “It was the right thing to do.”

You slowly nodded, before glancing over your shoulder. “Is that…”

You didn’t have to finish your sentence for him to understand. He looked apologetic, once your gaze settled on him again.

“It is,” he confirmed.

It had no business hurting as bad as it did, and yet you felt as if your heart was ripped in two. “Oh.”

His hands were folded in his lap, his shoulders hung low. He looked horrified, somehow, as if only then realizing that all that had happened was wrong. Wrong, and the kind of thing one should regret.

“Have you listened to the song?”

You held his gaze for as long as your heart could manage, before letting it drop to the comfort of the rug on the floor. “No. We probably shouldn’t release it.”

You felt out of breath. The breakthrough you had had while in Hongdae was foreign now, as if it had happened to someone else. Loneliness caught up to you, and all you could do was watch the fall as it happened.

“I’ll put it on hold.” He sounded disappointed, and he wasn’t looking at you anymore when your eyes flitted to him.

How had he been comfort? He was all but comfort now, the source of the ever-growing loneliness that was seeping through every inch of you.

“Thank you.”

Another silence. You were drowning. Drowning in the heaviness in you. It was like quick sands – nothing could stop the sinking, the fall. Falling and falling. You had thought you would fall into him, hadn’t wanted to let yourself formulate the thought, but the hope had been there. The hope had been there, and now you were falling away from him.

“Listen,” Yoongi started. He paused, ran a hand through his hair, folded his arms on his chest, let his fingers fall back into his lap. “I am sorry.” He wet his lips, and you found the strength to look at him. He wasn’t looking at you, and it didn’t seem as if he’d ever have the courage to do it. “I don’t want us to be left on bad terms.”

“We are nothing to each other, aren’t we?” you commented, voice sounding strangely high even to your own ears. “It doesn’t really matter.”

“I honestly didn’t think you were going to come back.”

“I never should have been here in the first place.”

His eyes kept at their journey on the rug, as if he could see lines down there, or maybe one of those drawing you traced with numbers. It was hard to know what he could imagine, hard to know the thoughts in his head.

Could he tell you were falling?

“I know,” he said. His voice was tired, exhausted, remorseful. For someone that didn’t want to regret anything, you could tell he was regretting this, far more than you had expected he would. “She came back two days ago.”

So, if you had been there a week ago, the end would have been different? Now, where would you be when the end came? Alone, as always.

“I’m happy for you.” You surprised even yourself at how genuine you sounded. Maybe because it truly was genuine. Min Yoongi deserved to have someone that loved him around. Someone he loved too. After all he had been through, he deserved it.

He said your name. Intimately, not with any formalities he usually reserved for it. It hurt, far more than everything before. “I never wanted to hurt you.”

“It’s going to be okay,” you reassured him, even if it sounded false. “It was one night, I’m just a little… shocked.”

You tried to play it cool with a smile, but his eyes were still stubbornly following the lines of his invisible drawing, so he didn’t see it.

“I understand.”

You weren’t sure if he really understood. You didn’t even know what there was to understand. You had slept with Min Yoongi once when you had both been vulnerable, and he had fixed his relationship after. It was just life. You weren’t one to catch feelings easily. He had just been comfort, and it always hurt when comfort was ripped from you, didn’t it?

It was going to pass. Even now, a few minutes later, it was lesser. The initial ache in your heart turning dull, and oxygen returning to your lungs and blood. It didn’t quite feel like drowning anymore, and you could watch him without feeling like your heart was going to stop.

No, you just wanted to go home and forget this ever happened. Blame it all on a fever dream, and move on with your life.

“It was nice to work with you,” you said. Your voice had returned to its normal tone, and you took in a steadying breath. “I’m going to treasure the memory.”

At that he looked at you. “So will I.”

You exchanged a long look. Filled with words unsaid, with possibilities that could have happened had you never left that morning, or had you come back before. Had he been waiting for you? Had he considered not getting back together with her if you were to come first? It was hard to tell, and yet it didn’t make you feel anything. No, the initial shock and hurt really had dwindled away, because you were even able to smile at him, a tight-lipped smile but one nonetheless.

Or maybe your coping mechanism had just come in clutch, pushing all emotions to the deep, dark depths of your heart.

“Thank you for giving me this opportunity.”

He slowly nodded. “You deserved it. You really did.” He seemed to consider it for a time, before he added, “You are an amazing artist. I’ll be on the lookout for what you release next”.

You chuckled. “We’ll see what I come up with.” You looked around, committing the setting to memory. Committing Min Yoongi to memory, him and his long hair and sad eyes.

“If you ever want to release the song, just let me know,” he said.

You weren’t sure that would ever happen, but if it could ease the remorse in his sad gaze then you would give it to him. “I will, I promise.”

He nodded once more, wetting his lips. “And if you ever need anything, I’m just a call away.”

A call and a world away. Min Yoongi wouldn’t be your comfort. Had probably never been comfort to you, you had just been blinded by the loneliness of your birthday.

“Right back at you,” you said, because it was the civilized thing to say. “I doubt I have anything that you might need though.” It was said like a joke, but it landed in deaf ears, because Yoongi just looked sadder.

“You would be surprised.”

Four words that you hated. That you found yourself to hate for a long time, after you left Min Yoongi’s place that night. Never looking back, not even as you walked outside, each step feeling like another crevice forming, until you were back to that same pathetic lonely self you had been before him.

You were going to need to pick your pieces up yourself, were you?

*****

Present day

Doing interviews still felt foreign. Strange, as if they were meant for someone else than you. Someone that existed a year ago, someone that was just a regular busker.

Not someone that had just sold out an entire concert venue. It still felt unreal, and you always thought you were going to wake up from the dream some day. Thing was, you only woke up to more comments, to more views on your videos.

All thanks to a certain BTS member you had been trying to forget. Three months ago, Min Yoongi had mentioned you in an interview. It had been uncalled for, out of nowhere really. He had been asked what inspired him with his music and he had said fellow artists. When the interviewer had pushed for names, it was yours that Yoongi had given, and Army had immediately jumped on the boat.

Until you were the talk of Korea as the new soloist that everyone needed to know. It was crazy, how your life had changed in just a few months. Now, people recognized you when you walked in the street, fans asked for your pictures. You didn’t know if you liked it, but it was a dream come true.

Your parents had called you, once. You hadn’t picked up, and they hadn’t tried again. You lived in blissful peace now, without the money problems you had had last year, without the fear that one day you would just lose it all. In truth, the fear still existed, but it was more distant. You were a rising star, and for now you didn’t think you had reached the top yet. No, you were still shooting up, and you were willing to work your ass off to make sure you wouldn’t fall back down.

You deserved the success you were having. Had worked blood and sweat to get that success.

You hadn’t talked to Yoongi after. People had suggested collaborations, Armys had posted edits of you (of you?!) next to Min Yoongi all over the Internet. Videos of you busking had gotten millions of views, and Minhyuk was doing his best job to make sure to shut down any hate before it reached you.

You still saw some comments sometimes, but you didn’t really care. You couldn’t be liked by everyone, and that was just life. You had long accepted such a thing.

But yes, doing interviews felt strange. Especially as people tried to desiccate your past, to find every little truth there was to know about you. You were good at keeping most of the truth to yourself, just giving them little snippets of your life here and there to make the fans feel like they knew you.

You were pretty sure none of them knew your loneliness though. Loneliness that was a lot more bearable now that you weren’t struggling with money anymore, come to think of it.

The questions you hated the most were those about Yoongi. And you got a lot of them, especially from male interviewers. They tended to ask questions that were a lot more sexist than their female counterparts, who usually focused on your work instead of on your life. But the male interviewers came with the rest, and even if you had asked Minhyuk to try and filter most of them out, you still had to answer some questions once in a while.

That was how you found yourself on a talk show you had only watched behind the screen of your computer before, sitting across a famous host that had been asking increasingly more personal questions as the hour that you were to spend with him slowly passed.

It was awkward, yet you tried to be your most friendly self, to smile when you were supposed to and to laugh politely whenever he made a joke you personally thought to be degrading. You were relieved when he finally concluded the interview, and you dipped behind the scene as soon as you were allowed, heading straight to the refreshment table.

You were gulping down a water bottle when a familiar figure moved out of the hallway leading to the dressing rooms. Minhyuk sported a toothy grin, and he stopped next to you as you finished the water.

“You were fantastic,” he complimented you. “How can you be so good at this?”

He had asked that same question numerous times already, and you still didn’t have the answer for it. You had always been a huge introvert, yet whenever cameras shone their light on you, you found courage in you to act and pretend to be at your most comfortable.

Only the people that knew you the best could see through the mask, and though Minhyuk knew, he still was amazed that you could just do it like that.

You shrugged, winking at him as you put the water bottle away in a recycling bin. “I don’t know.” You sighed, glancing over your shoulder at the host of the show. He was walking towards you, and you immediately hated the look on his face as he beelined towards you.

He stopped a little too close for comfort, with a placid smile on his lips that felt wrong.

“You’re good at avoiding juicy questions, aren’t you?” It was said like a joke and his eyes even sparkled as he let out a small laugh.

Immediately, you let the camera-adequate you take the lead, and you echoed his laugh. “I want my personal life to stay personal,” you said, shrugging your shoulders.

The host nodded, glancing at Minhyuk as your manager moved next to you. “But seriously, how did Min Yoongi come to know you? I still can’t wrap my head around it.”

You pursed your lips, the perfect picture of indifference, even though Yoongi’s mention still felt a little strange. “Honestly, I don’t know. I am very flattered that he likes my music enough to say he’s inspired by it.”

The host looked at you suspiciously, as if he was trying to read between the lines, between the words you had said to find the truth about you and Min Yoongi.

You didn’t think anyone but you and Yoongi really knew the truth. Even Minhyuk didn’t know everything, and he was your manager.

“When’s the collab going to drop?” the host continued. “Surely you must be working on something.”

You shrugged. “I can’t say we are planning to release something together, unfortunately. We’ve never worked on anything together.” An easily crafted lie, that you had said so many times in the last three months that you almost believed it now.

You had yet to listen to the song you had made together. Had buried the file away in your computer, somewhere you had tried to forget as best as you could. It hadn’t really worked, especially not now that Yoongi was mentioned to you almost daily.

“That’s a shame, I’m pretty sure lots of people would love to see such a collab,” the host said pensively. He then offered you a smile he probably thought was kind, but mostly looked paternalistic. “You should try to get him to collab with you, it’d give you a lot of visibility.”

You wanted to tell him you didn’t need visibility, but it was a lie. Well, maybe not anymore, because Yoongi had already given it to you.

You wondered what had brought him to mention you. What journey his mind might have taken to lead to you, when he knew damn well what had happened with you was unprofessional. Maybe it was his way of apologizing, of giving you the little something that he could even though you hadn’t contacted him about the song. Maybe he even believed it would make you change your mind about the song, but that was unlikely.

Not when it could make people say that you were only using Yoongi for clout. No, you wanted your success to be all yours now that he had opened the door for you. It wasn’t like you had asked him to, so it wasn’t using him, right?

Minhyuk’s phone started ringing, taking you out of your reverie, and he stepped away to answer the call. He got lots of calls now, and every day it seemed like there was more. More that people wanted to know, wanted to see or wanted to hear.

It was unlikely that it’d stop someday. But it was okay. Being in constant motion kept you from feeling your usual loneliness. Made it lesser, smaller, until it was so easily ignored you almost thought it was absent.

The host dug his phone out of his pocket, and you watched as his eyes skimmed the screen, before looking at you with a delighted smile. You furrowed your brows, but you didn’t have time to say anything before Minhyuk let out a cheer as he jogged back to you.

“You are never going to believe this!”

You looked at him with a slightly widened gaze, glancing at the host once. “What?”

“You’ve been nominated as rookie of the year for MAMA.”

Your mouth fell open, quite at the same time as your heart stopped beating in your chest. “What?”

Minhyuk nodded quickly, and he pulled you into a crushing hug. “Look at you! I knew you were going to make it.”

You laughed, pushing on his chest so he’d release you from his hold. “Are you sure?”

You couldn’t really believe it. It didn’t make sense to you, and all you could do was meet Minhyuk’s gaze as his eyes filled with proud tears.

“He’s right,” the host said. He raised his phone, showing the screen to you. Sure enough, you read the article that had just come out, and your name was the first thing that caught your attention. Then everything blurred behind a wall of unexpected tears, and you let out a disbelieved laugh.

“How?”

Minhyuk shrugged his shoulders, smiling fondly. “Because you’re the best at what you do?”

Both of you knew you had Min Yoongi to thank for that. Hell, without him mentioning you three months ago you would probably have given up on making music all together. But no, he mentioned you, and you skyrocketed, your music even making it to the radio.

It was unbelievable, and it seemed new heights could be reached. Because MAMA was a lot of visibility, and publicity too. A room, full of other artists, and you were one of the nominees? It truly was a dream, wasn’t it?

You could only thank your lucky star for it, though you’d never go to the extent of thanking Min Yoongi, would you?

*****

You had been hesitating for a few hours now. Watching your phone, reading Yoongi’s contact on the screen, and then shutting off the device to focus on the lyrics you were currently writing. It was hard to focus – your mind just kept going back to Min Yoongi.

You didn’t know if you wanted to thank him. To tell him this was all thanks to him. It felt too real, like acknowledging it would take your success away. And you couldn’t lose it – it was one of the last things you had.

Your mother had tried to call you, the day after you learned that you were nominated as rookie of the year. You had sent her straight to voicemail, like you’d been doing for a while anyway. You deleted the voicemail without listening to it, uncaring of what she would have to say to you.

Nothing would ever make you want to have her in your life again, in any way whatsoever. She was dead to you, and you wanted it to stay that way.

You sighed, and your eyes fell to the paper you were writing on. Your handwriting looked more like scribbles, and you had doodled some flowers at the top of the page, as if they’d help you find some inspiration. Needless to say, they hadn’t, as your thoughts always trailed back to Yoongi.

You looked at the two lines you had already written. The only two lines your brain had been able to come up with in the last three hours since you’d sat down.

In the land where no one knows my name

I seek a path that leads to a city

You didn’t like it. Something about the two lines didn’t work together, and you decided to strike through the last word. Because what city was it supposed to represent? Seoul? You’d been in Seoul for so long it didn’t seem quite right anymore. Unless the city represented something else entirely. Perhaps a dream?

You sighed once more, replacing the word city with dream.

In the land where no one knows my name

I seek a path that leads to a dream

You already liked it more. You replaced the ‘a’ in front of ‘dream’ to ‘my’ before humming it out loud. You knew you’d still have to tweak it a little, but already the next lines started forming in your head.

In the land where no one knows my name

I seek a path that leads to my dream

Bright light and Heaven’s door

I knock and scream at them to open

In a world where no one knows my name

I can almost hear Heaven’s choirs

You’d think they’d ring true and high

But I think they’re the devil in disguise

They push me out and in the mud

I beg on my knees, they don’t hear me

In the land where no one knows my name

I’m the scraps that you’ve thrown away

They say one day I’ll understand

But I’ll be the one to make the rules now ay

It always hit you like that. Once the inspiration found you, you couldn’t really stop. You had to put the words on paper, ink staining your hand as you barely let it dry. You wrote quickly, eyes not blinking, brain entirely zeroing in on the spot where the tip of your pen kissed the paper, tracing the curves of the words you were ingraining.

It was an exciting feeling. Because yes, you felt like your success was all you had left, but it was a lie. Because even without your success, you’d still have this. Your pen against the paper, the flow of words spilling out of you like an overflowing glass, nothing but you and the lyrics.

It was your home when you were younger, and you knew it would always be your home. Music, that is, and the lyrics that found their way out of the confines of your skull.

You reread the verse, smiling to yourself. You knew it would likely change a little by the time you’d consider the song ready, but for a first draft you really did like the sound of it.

Especially considering it had helped you escape the will to contact Min Yoongi.

Your eyes slid to the window of your apartment. The sun was setting outside, coloring the world in shades of gold that made it feel like you could conquer it, if you so wanted. You felt infinite then, as if the start and the end happened all at once, and never at the same time. Like there was just this moment, right now, and nothing else, but also everything else. Every little moment, stretching into infinity.

It was a recurring feeling to you, whenever you found your inspiration, like it was some old friend coming home.

Once the sun was fully set, dusk settling on the world outside, you focused back on your apartment. You had to cook dinner soon, but somehow the idea of it exhausted you. Perhaps because you had used a lot of brain power on the song, and now you just wanted to rest. You figured ordering some food tonight would be okay, and you ordered fried chicken as you moved to your couch. You turned on the TV, moving to a channel that played some drama you’ve been invested in, and you watched the show for a while, up until the fried chicken was delivered.

You were on your way back up to your apartment when your phone lit up in your hand, and you almost threw it across the hall when you saw the name on the screen.

It made no sense. Like you had summoned him from the depths of your skull. Like you had passed the itch to call to him, and unlike you he hadn’t been able to resist the urge.

You picked up the call, hands shaking lightly, as you neared your apartment door.

“Hello?”

There was a short silence, and then the unmistakable deep voice of Min Yoongi filled your ears. “Hey, Y/n.”

Your throat felt dry, a lump keeping you from swallowing properly. It indeed made you gulp, and you could only hope that he hadn’t heard.

“How have you been doing?” he asked.

You stopped in front of your door, putting the fried chicken down long enough so you could dial your password and push the door open. “I’ve been great,” you replied truthfully, because there was no use to lie to him.

You still were lonely, but it was easier now.

“I’m glad,” he pensively said. It took him a while to speak again, but once he did he said, “I wanted to congratulate you for being nominated as rookie of the year.”

You blushed, immediately embarrassed, even though you were walking in your apartment and no one could see you. You put the fried chicken down on the counter, and then headed to a cupboard to grab a plate.

“Thank you,” you told him. “I think it’s… because of you.”

He chuckled, deeply, and the sound brought you right back to that night you had spent in his bed. Your blush turned furious, and you gulped once.

“You’re getting the success you deserve, as an artist. It’s all you.”

“Right. No one would know about me if you hadn’t mentioned me that one time.”

You heard him sigh, and regretted how your words had come out aggressive. “I just told the truth.” He paused, and you could almost hear his brain work as he figured his next words carefully. “Your music does inspire me.”

“Seonbaenim…” you trailed off.

“Ah, no need to call me that anymore,” he gently said. “We’re equals now.”

You doubted you’d ever be his equal, but you still let out a nervous chuckle. “Okay, sorry.”

“It’s all good.”

Another awkward silence followed, as you put your plate down on the coffee table in your living room. You had gotten a nicer apartment once the money had started to come in, which meant you finally had more than just one room – an improvement that you still were struggling to wrap your head around.

You went back to the kitchen to grab the fried chicken, and then you settled on the floor, next to the coffee table.

“I was wondering…” Yoongi finally said, and you almost startled at the sound of his voice, as if you had forgotten he was on the other side of the line. “Would you like to… grab dinner one of these days? To celebrate your nomination.”

“Dinner? Us two?

He chuckled once more. “Now that I’m thinking of it, it might be coming out of nowhere to you.” He laughed, and you wondered if he was blushing just as furiously as you were.

Because you weren’t expecting him to want to see you again. It made you think of his girlfriend, and you couldn’t help but wonder if they were still together, or if they were broken up now. You didn’t think he’d suggest dinner if they were still dating, but it was hard to tell.

Maybe that was his way of making things professional with you again, because he wanted to release the song.

“Is it…” you trailed off, struggling to find the words. “Is it to discuss the song?”

You were pretty sure you could hear him gulp. “Ah, nah, the song doesn’t matter. I’m not going to force you to release it, not when you’ve made it clear you’re not interested. I just thought… you deserve to celebrate?” He paused, just long enough to collect his thoughts before he continued. “Unless you’re already celebrating? You have a manager, right?”

You didn’t think you had ever heard Yoongi string so many words one after the other before, except when he was rapping or singing. It made you laugh anxiously once more, though you reckoned the anxiety was slowly dwindling to nothingness.

“I do,” you answered. “But I’m not celebrating with him. We’ve never really hung out outside of work stuff before.”

“That could be considered as an important work event, no?” Yoongi pointed out. “Your first nomination… it always means a lot.”

You nibbled at your bottom lip, eyes reading the words on the unopened box of fried chicken again and again. “It does,” you admitted, voicing it for the first time. “I…” Your eyes filled with tears, and you took a deep, steadying breath. “I still can’t believe it.”

His voice was kind when he spoke again. “It’s hard to believe it at first,” he said, gently. “That’s why you deserve to celebrate.”

“But why… Why with you? We’re not even friends. Barely work acquaintances at best, especially after…”

You didn’t finish your sentence, and it seemed it had stunned Yoongi into silence, because he didn’t say anything. Didn’t reply, and for a moment you imagined that he had hung up. But he hadn’t, so you waited patiently.

“I have to admit,” Yoongi said, his voice infinitely small. “I’ve been thinking about you. I’m sorry for how things went between us. I guess I’m trying to make amends? And I really want to make sure you celebrate this nomination the right way.”

“Isn’t that weird though, considering what happened?”

He pondered for a time. “Maybe. It’s only weird if we let it be weird.”

He wasn’t wrong, but you still didn’t know why he wanted to be the one celebrating with you. You barely knew each other, outside of the song you had worked on and that night you had slept together. He didn’t know about what you did for fun, about what you liked and disliked. Could only imagine what your relationship with your family was, if he listened to the song closely. Yes, he could relate to your love for music, as he had the same one, but he still didn’t know you.

Had that night with you mattered to him, too? Had he felt comfort when he was by your side, in the soft sheets of his bed?

“Right,” you let out. “I just… I don’t know. What about your…”

“Oh.” He paused, sighing. “We broke up months ago.”

Your eyes widened, the revelation giving you hope that you hated. You weren’t sure you were supposed to be hopeful right now. But he still had called you, right? Still wanted to celebrate with you, no?

“Oh,” you echoed. “I’m sorry.”

“It was my decision,” he admitted. “You made me realize some stuff… but I’d rather talk about it in person?”

So that was the reason why he wanted to see you after all. And somehow, it made your initial reticence disappear, until you found yourself saying, “Sure. I think that could be a good idea.”

You could hear the relief in his voice as he spoke. “Great! Would you want to come over? I could cook you a nice meal.”

You smiled, softly. “You want to cook me a meal? We could just go to a restaurant and…”

But you couldn’t, right? People could recognize you, paparazzi could take pictures of you, rumours could blossom left and right.

“You know what?” you added before he could say something. “Yes, I’d like to come over. I’ll find a nice bottle to drink?”

“Sounds good,” he agreed. “Are you available sometime this week?”

As you scheduled your dinner with Min Yoongi, you wondered if he could hear the wild beats he had ignited in your chest. You wondered if he could hear the hope in your voice, hope that you tried to push away. Because the last time you had been hopeful, you had ended up hurt, badly. Way more than you had been before he had come into your life. You didn’t want to give him this power over you once more, and so you promised yourself one thing, and one thing only.

You would only be friends with him this time around. Nothing more. Because your self-preservation came first.

*****

Yoongi didn’t move, in the few months you didn’t talk to him. He still lived at that same fancy building you had used to hate, yet now you lived in a similar one. Not quite as expensive, and your apartment didn’t lay on two stories like his condo did, but making your way to his place wasn’t quite as anxiety-inducing as it had been then.

You had told Minhyuk that you were going to visit Min Yoongi. It felt like you needed him to know, now that you were famous enough to get recognized. Not enough for the receptionist to let you pass though. Indeed, the lady stopped you as you were walking in, clutching an expensive bottle of wine in your clammy hands.

“Excuse me,” she said, and your eyes widened as you turned to look at her.

You stopped in your tracks, and your heart picked up its pace in your chest. “Yes?”

“You don’t live here.”

The sudden will to reply ‘Obviously’ almost made you blurt it out, but you swallowed the word like a lump in your throat, glancing towards the elevator.

“I’m visiting a friend,” you told her, though you hesitated on the last word.

Because Min Yoongi wasn’t really a friend. Yet at least. And you reckoned you had no idea if he’d be one someday, especially after what had happened a few months back. You had been hopeful since your call on the phone, but ever since this morning you rather felt anxious, like you were about to be swallowed up by the ground never to be seen again.

Still, you stood strong, head up high as the lady eyed you up and down.

“And who is that?” she asked, an eyebrow cocked as she clearly didn’t believe you.

It might have been your fault. You had decided not to wear too expensive clothes, because you still weren’t used to even having some. Indeed, you had been receiving designer clothes by a couple of different brands, but you had yet to sign with one, feeling a little too overwhelmed from it. You had never been big on fashion after all, and if it wasn’t for Minhyuk’s suggestions, you were pretty sure you would have had more than one faux pas so far.

“Uh,” you let out, and your eyes dropped to the wine bottle. “Min Yoongi,” you revealed, and somehow you wondered if you just looked like a crazy fan.

Did it happen, sometimes? Did fans try to visit him, pretending they knew him?

The lady’s gaze narrowed as you looked up at her, trying to appear as convincing as you could. “He didn’t mention he had a friend coming over.”

Maybe you had grown lucky after all these years of bad luck. Maybe your stars had finally aligned, maybe the ocean’s waves were finally beating the shore in your favour. Because Min Yoongi stepped in from the outside world, hair ruffled by the wind, with a slight flush to his cheeks as if he’d been rushing home.

At the sight of the wine bottle in his hands, you assumed he was.

“Seonbaenim,” you instinctively said as a way of greeting, as your heart decided it was time to run wild.

He looked better than you remembered him to be. Healthier, as if the months had been good to him. And maybe they had been, the same way that they had been for you.

“I told you not to call me that,” he reminded you, after a few silent seconds of him just staring at you. “You can call me Yoongi.”

It was way too casual for you, so you just nodded your head as your cheeks burned.

Yoongi made his way towards you, nodding at the receptionist. You had half a thought of saying ‘told you so’, but you refrained, choosing peace over war. In truth, you weren’t quite sure you could speak right now, as your heart just kept rushing on and on as if it was running the last few miles of a marathon.

Silence was all that accompanied you and Min Yoongi on the elevator ride up to his condo, though once the doors slid open, he glanced at you. You wondered if it was blush dusting his cheeks or if the wind had been colder outside than what you had thought.

“How are you?” he asked, and as soon as your gaze met his, he looked away.

You gulped down the anxiety, before saying, “I’m okay. How are you?”

“Great.”

You followed him out of the elevator, all the way to his door before you managed to speak again. “You got some wine? I thought I was the one that was supposed to bring it.”

He chuckled, shyly. “Just trying to be a good host.” He dialed his code in, before pushing the door open. “After all, aren’t we supposed to be celebrating you tonight?”

You pursed your lips, walking in behind him. “Well,” you choked out, before gulping down another lump. “I wouldn’t have gotten nominated if it weren’t for you, as I said before.”

“Oh please,” he let out as he kicked his shoes off, and you quickly did the same. “How many times will I have to tell you that it was all you?”

You shrugged, and your eyes slid to the stairs, picturing him there all those months ago. It made your gaze drop to the ground, and the heaviness of his gaze on your profile told you that he had noticed.

“Was it?” you said, chuckling awkwardly as you tried to keep the atmosphere light. “It rather feels like it was all thanks to your interview.”

He shrugged it off, sliding his feet in a pair of slippers. “You can grab those slippers.”

Your eyes moved to a lonely pair closer to the door, and you nodded.

“I really was thinking of cooking something?” Yoongi said as you were putting on the slippers, and you wondered if he was purposefully ignoring what you had said. “I’m not big on take-out, but I do like to cook.”

You truly met his gaze for what felt like the first time tonight, even though it really wasn’t, and it felt like the whole world had slowed. Like the lights had dimmed, and the walls and art decorating them had gone out of focus. The only thing you could see was his soft gaze, and the way he had a small, shy smile on his lips. You were pretty sure you could count the lashes on his eyes, and it made you feel like you were falling forward, while simultaneously staying in place. Like motion sickness, and you blinked a few times as your gaze dropped to the floor once more, too much of a coward to hold his.

“Sure, I’d love to cook,” you replied, worrying at your bottom lip. “I can help.”

At that, a true, bright smile moved on his features, and it made the room feel warmer, cozier. “Then let’s go cook, Y/n.”

The way he said your name had your insides go molten, and it took you a good few seconds before you actually managed to follow him as he walked towards the kitchen. And that was how you found yourself cooking with him, talking about everything and nothing with just a little bit of awkwardness clinging to the air. You didn’t think it was a bad thing – it was only normal after the months and what had happened. After all, even then you hadn’t been particularly close to him. Yes, that night, he had been comfort personified, but you rather thought that It was only because you had no comfort in your life then. Nothing to cling to to make you want to get up day after day.

One full glass of wine later, as food was sizzling in a pan on the oven, Yoongi leaned against the counter, looking at you. You felt shy under his gaze, and you busied yourself by refilling the glasses. It didn’t help, as it forced you to step closer to him, but at least it occupied the silence for a time.

“How have you been adjusting to this?” he asked, motioning around him.

You were aware he wasn’t talking about his kitchen, but rather about your new life. It made you ponder for a time, because you thought you were adjusting well, though you weren’t quite sure if it was just an act. It was still too early to tell, and you didn’t have it in you to lie to Min Yoongi.

“Honestly,” you let out, slowly, as your eyes got lost in the rich colour of the wine. “It’s been easy, so far. But I don’t even know if it’ll last? And each time I do an interview, or talk in front of people, it just feels like someone else takes over. I’m not even sure it’s me.”

He remained silent for a while, making you feel as if you blurting out your truth was a little too real for the relationship you currently had with him – which was none, you reckoned. You saw him take a sip of wine from the corner of your eyes, and it took him a moment before he swallowed. Once he did, he finally spoke up, making relief flood through you.

“I understand,” he said. “More than you can imagine. I’ve felt this way since I debuted with Bangtan all those years ago. Struggled with it a lot if I’m honest.”

You worried at your lip, slowly nodding your head. “And how have you adjusted?”

He smiled, softly. “All thanks to the members. They supported me when things got rough. Made sure I was never alone, and helped me to be comfortable with my public persona.”

You could taste the slight tang of jealousy on your tongue, yet you pushed it away, ignored it as best as you could. “I can imagine. It must have been… great, to have all of them around as you climbed the ladder to success.”

“Yeah,” he agreed, tilting his head to the side. “That’s… why I wanted to make sure you weren’t alone in this?”

He looked startled, for a few seconds, eyes a little wide as his mouth fell open. He had a line of red wine drying on his lips, and your gaze focused on it as your brain took the words in, spinning them around until they made no sense whatsoever.

“I…” you trailed off. “Why?”

He sighed, probably realizing that he had been too upfront. “No one should be alone in this,” he carefully said, and he turned away from you to check the food on the stove.

It smelled delicious, but he must have deemed it wasn’t ready, because he put the lid back on the pan and faced you again.

“And I know… I know we shouldn’t be talking about the song,” he continued. “But I also heard your lyrics.”

Lyrics of loneliness and despair you had spat in his mic that day you had come to record. On your birthday, the epitome of loneliness every year.

“You did,” you said, shying from his gaze once more. You took a sip of the wine, let it roll on your tongue, and then you spoke again. “It hasn’t been as bad as before,” you admitted, carefully. “It doesn’t feel as lonely as before. I think it’s because I’m not struggling with everything else anymore. Like… financially, and all that. I used to not even know when my next meal was going to be, and now I can always order or cook if I have time for groceries.”

The kind smile on Yoongi’s lips felt like the warm rays of a spring sun, and you couldn’t help the shy smile that grew on your own lips. “It does help,” he said. He glanced at the food, before settling his gaze back on you. “I bet you’ve been feeling like you are running out of time, though.”

“Gosh,” you let out, and you laughed awkwardly. “Yeah. It feels like I always have schedules to do, and whenever I don’t I feel bad if I’m not working on new lyrics.”

“I totally get that.”

There was a silence, only interrupted by an alarm Yoongi had set for the rice cooker. He turned it off, and then his gaze slid to his kitchen table that still stood empty where it was a couple of meters away.

“Let me set the table,” he told you, not meeting your gaze, and then you spent the next few minutes watching him do so, feeling a little awkward in your spot in the kitchen. It was lessened when Yoongi put some music on, some chill beats that wouldn’t make the conversation hard.

“Thank you,” you told him when he moved back to the kitchen to check the food. “I could have helped.”

“No,” he said, reassuringly. “I told you, we’re celebrating you tonight. You already helped with cutting the vegetables.”

If someone could call your poor attempt at cutting the onions as help, then you would take the compliment. “Right,” you let out, laughing lightly.

And for the first time tonight it didn’t feel awkward or forced. It felt comfortable, as if watching Yoongi set the table, in the mundanity of the action, had brought back the comfort he radiated back then.

“Trust me,” he said, offering you a toothy grin.

It was surprising, and it did things to you that made your cheeks burn and your tongue ache for the taste of wine. So you took a long gulp, before moving to grab the bottle and place it on the table.

“Here, I’ve contributed,” you told him, and your nose was a little scrunched up, awkwardly so, when you looked at him again.

He laughed, a sound you reckoned you could get used to hearing, and then he started putting the food in bowls. “I don’t know what I would have done without your input.” He sounded sarcastic, teasing, and maybe, just maybe you really could be friends. “Thank you.”

“No problem, seonbaenim.” This time, you said the formal nickname teasingly, and he rolled his eyes, slightly shaking his head.

“You have to stop. You’re making me feel old.”

“Would you rather me calling you ahjussi?”

The way his smile fell to be replaced by a startled expression had you burst out a laugh that was nothing but feminine, one he joined after a few seconds.

“So that’s how it’s going to be?” he asked, and you grinned at him as he carried the bowls to the table. “I see.”

The atmosphere shifted, after that. Conversation grew easier, not forced, and the exquisite taste of the food made you feel like maybe you could cook after all. You finished the first wine bottle as you ate, which you reckoned might have been a bad idea, because you were tipsy by the time Yoongi uncorked the second one, his cheeks having turned red from the few glasses he had already ingested.

“Are you sure we should be drinking that too?” you asked, and you giggled as he threw you a no-bullshit look.

“Celebrating, remember?” he replied. “We have to be getting drunk.”

“Just us two?”

His gaze widened slightly, and he put down the wine bottle. “Unless you don’t want to.”

You raised your glass, looking at the light over his kitchen island through it. “I do want to. Just feels like we should… not be stupid this time around, no?”

His features were somber when your gaze slid to him. “Right,” he said, slowly nodding. “I didn’t invite you over with any intentions, if that can reassure you.”

You were too tipsy for where the conversation was going, so you said, “I want to be your friend, Min Yoongi. Let’s not be professional this time. Let’s just be friends.”

His eyes lit up, slowly followed by a smile that took over his mouth in the most beautiful way. He looked heavenly, standing there, long hair behind his ears, pale, expensive Louis Vuitton sweater rolled on his forearms. He looked princely, like he had looked that night, and it made your gaze slide away.

For preservation, perhaps.

“I’d love to call you a friend,” he said, gently. “I’d really love to.”

You pursed your lips, steeling yourself for the glance you sent to him. “Then pour me some wine, Min Yoongi.”

He laughed, and soon enough he was back at the table next to you, talking about what growing up was for him. You could see the similarities in your past, and maybe that was why you had always been comfortable with him before. Because he really did understand where you were coming from, though he had been able to fix things with his family.

Which wasn’t something you ever wanted to do. You were content with not talking to them, and you were pretty sure that wouldn’t change. Especially not as the only reason why they were contacting you now was because they probably had heard about you on the television.

“I swear!” Yoongi said, slightly shaking his head, a long time after the conversation had shifted to anecdotes about his past and yours. “I’ve never seen anyone get so worked up about some bananas.”

You laughed, quickly followed by him. The retelling of a fight between Jungkook and Hoseok had you shedding a tear, and Yoongi watched you carefully as you dried it with the back of your hand.

“That is so stupid,” you commented.

He nodded wisely. “I know. But it’s been a long time. Jungkook-ie was mostly upset because it was a gift.”

You chuckled. “Bananas?”

“Yes.” Yoongi laughed, and then his eyes slid to your empty glass in front of you.

You were halfway through the second bottle, and the alcohol had been buzzing through your system. The scene had lost its focus around you, the wine fuzzing it up until all that was left were Yoongi’s pretty features. His cheeks had turned red a while ago, and you reckoned yours probably had too, sometime between your third and fourth glass. You didn’t really care – this Yoongi was comfortable, friendly. Something you had been needing more than you would have ever cared to admit – a friend.

You liked how easy it was, that friendship. And it really was, even in the days and weeks that followed you reconnecting with Yoongi. Like maybe that was what you had always been meant to be – friends, and nothing more.

He never talked to you about the song again. Never pressed you to listen to it, to release it, but if you were in his head you’d know that he was dying to drop it out of the blue, to have his fans know just what you felt, what he felt. Because the loneliness that had inhabited you when you had written your share of the lyrics was common to him, though it was growing less frequent now that you were in his life.

Min Yoongi really was comfort indeed.

*****

After weeks of talking once in a while, of hanging out even more rarely, with Yoongi’s and your busy schedule, MAMA arrived. You were anxious about it – it was your first award show after all. Yoongi was there in spirit to reassure you before, sending you an expensive whiskey bottle as a gift. He was getting ready with the members of BTS that were attending, which meant you weren’t going to see him before the ceremony. So all you did that day was prepare with a glam team hired by Minhyuk, and then you were driven to the venue where MAMA was held.

It was surreal, to sit in that venue. With the other artists, the whole scene of music that was Asia. You were sat next to Twice, a group you had never expected you’d see in real life. Sana and Jihyo congratulated you on your nomination, and you immediately went into camera mode, easy smile and bright eyes on display.

If you were honest, the camera mode was barely faked today. No, you rather were amazed by the scene, by the crowd and the buzzing of chatter and laughter. You awed at the sight of so many famous people, of Twice and Stray Kids and some groups you didn’t even know. You hadn’t realized you were part of it before today, and now you could see IU sitting on the other side of the venue, along with some people you didn’t recognize.

Imposter syndrome chose this moment to hit you. Out of nowhere, the way the first bolt of lightning strikes, even before the sound of thunder is heard. With clammy hands, you watched as the lights dimmed, and the crowd ushered until a spotlight shone on the animator of the evening. You barely could listen, barely could watch the groups performing. All you could think was that you were alone in this room, without anyone by your side.

Not even Minhyuk. And it wasn’t because he hadn’t wanted to – for some reason, he hadn’t received an invitation along with you. Something you didn’t quite understand, but didn’t really have anything to say about it. Because, after all, you were just a rising star, and rising stars tended to fall into darkness more often than not.

Why would you be any different?

You were starting to panic. You knew it, and yet you couldn’t help it. Sana must have noticed, because during a commercial break, she leaned closer to you.

“Hey,” she greeted you once more. “Are you okay? Do you need water?”

The whole of Twice turned towards you, and your eyes widened. “Uh,” you let out. “I don’t…”

But Jeongyeon was already extending a water bottle towards you, and you thanked her as you took it. Your hands shook a little as you uncapped it, but the first swig had the anxiety calm down, just enough for you to thank the girls again.

“It’s okay!” Sana reassured you. “We know how overwhelming this can be. Can’t imagine what it must be like for someone alone.”

You winced, glancing around. Your gaze stopped as it met Yoongi’s. He was not too far from IU, with the rest of the BTS members in attendance. You hadn’t noticed him before, perhaps because they had arrived late.

You had been so early you had been able to see everyone walking in.

Yoongi nodded his head at you, offering you a secretive smile. It grounded you in the present, and you finally felt the wave of panic recede, the way the ocean recedes at low tide. It calmed you down, and you found yourself able to actually enjoy the show from then on.

When it was time for the award for rookie of the year to be announced, anxiety returned to you. It wasn’t the same kind of anxiety – no, it was the kind that one anticipates, uses to push themselves forward. You leaned on the edge of your seat, almost imperceptibly, listening as they called out the names. Smiling shyly as they said your name, and the big screen shone with an image of you. You watched yourself, prettily sitting there, with your hair perfectly styled and makeup on fleek, feeling like you were watching someone else entirely. It was an out-of-body experience, somehow, especially as the camera you took over.

The crowd was silenced expectantly as the announcer opened the envelope, slowly. You thought you could hear the envelope tear. It was like it was echoing, on repeat like a song stuck in your head. All you could do was watch as they got the paper out, and when they said your name, loud and clear, your eyes widened as your lips parted slightly.

For an unknown reason, your head turned towards Sana first, and she offered you a bright smile as the room erupted into claps. You slowly got up, feeling thousands of eyes following your every move, and your own gaze slid to the other side of the room once more.

Yoongi was clapping, with the softest smile on his lips. It was a smile you rarely saw from him – it was fond, like you were the sun after a long night. He mouthed a congratulation, only meant for you – something personal, that you tucked in a safe corner of your heart. It made you stand straighter, and it guided you towards the scene as you walked to accept your award.

You bowed as you were handed the trophy, its weight surprisingly heavy as it landed in your hands, and you smiled widely as the announcer congratulated you. You thanked them, and then moved to the mic, letting the camera persona take over.

And take over she did, giving thanks to the people that helped you. You couldn’t resist but gaze towards Yoongi as you kept talking, and you had to bite your tongue not to thank him too. Because to you, it was thanks to him that you were standing there, in this spot. The winner of rookie of the year – a year ago, you were all but an unknown busker, barely getting by. And this year, you were shining in the light, rising towards the heavens.

An out-of-body experience indeed.

When it was done, you could barely remember anything. From the whole evening, if you were honest, as if it was too good to be true. You had been invited to an after-party, and on your way to it, after you had changed into a less formal attire, you found yourself coming back to your body.

You blinked once, twice, letting out a small, disbelieved laugh. The driver glanced at you, cocking an eyebrow in the rear-view mirror.

“Sorry,” you apologized, and then you let out another laugh. It sounded a little crazy, perhaps, but you didn’t care.

Your body was the vessel of a happiness it had never known before, and you were going to enjoy it. To drink it till the very last drop, because who knew when you’d feel like this again?

You got to the party, almost at the same time as another similar SUV. You smiled as you saw Sana and Jihyo come out, and they motioned for you to join them.

Another friendship you had never seen coming. But it blossomed easily, and they chatted and laughed and drank with you for a while. Long enough for you to forget that there was actually a reason why you had accepted the invitation to this after-party in the first place.

Min Yoongi was in attendance. And you thought you could feel the moment he walked into the place. As if the frantic energy lessened, somehow, and your eyes immediately searched for him. You saw Hoseok first, and he grinned as his gaze met yours, waving at you.

You waved back, which didn’t go unnoticed to Sana and Jihyo.

“You know Hobi-nim?” Jihyo asked, pretty mouth forming a pout. “So the rumors are true after all.”

You winced. “The rumors are out of mind but yes, I do know Hobi-nim.” You did, from Yoongi. You had only met him twice before though.

You didn’t mind Jihyo’s comment. Mostly because it was said so genuinely, so nicely, with no ounce of jealousy or any other negative emotion behind. You didn’t think she had it in her anyway. Neither did Sana, who just said, “Rumors are always out of mind. Don’t pay attention to them.”

Easier said than done, but you still nodded your head, before glancing towards Hoseok again. This time, you noticed Jungkook and Yoongi too, and the latter offered you that same secretive and fond smile he had offered you earlier. It made something in you constrict, and blush crept on your cheeks.

“You can go with them, if you want,” Jihyo told you, noticing the emotions on your face. “This is a safe place for us celebrities to mingle.”

Sana chuckled. “We like parties like this. Makes us feel a little more normal.”

“Do they happen often?” you enquired, and you broke eye contact with Yoongi to meet the girl’s gaze.

“Not really,” she admitted. “Unfortunately.” It was her turn to look towards Yoongi, Hoseok and Jungkook, and then she added, “Do go with them. Yoongi-nim is looking this way.”

This time, you turned fully beet red, but luckily enough the expensive foundation on your skin held, hiding your emotions. To Sana’s eyes, perhaps, but you were pretty sure Jihyo knew.

And knew what? You didn’t even know. Yoongi was a friend, nothing more, and you liked it that way. You liked that you could count him as a friend, because God knew you needed friends in your life.

“Well then, better go talk to him before he makes rumors spread,” you joked, and the two girls laughed.

Before you went, you exchanged numbers with them, promising that you could meet up in the following days, and then you were off to meet Min Yoongi, where he stood close to a wall on the other side of the room.

He didn’t like parties. That much you knew. He had only decided to go because he wanted to be there for you, whether the outcome of the evening was positive or not. And it was positive, the brightest thing that had ever happened to you. An evening built of the stuff that makes the sun shine – bright, ever-lasting. You clung to that feeling as you reached Yoongi’s side, and Hoseok and Jungkook dipped as soon as you appeared, leaving you alone with Yoongi.

“Congratulations,” he said, this time aloud.

It still felt personal, and you tilted your head to the side, offering him a smile. “I should congratulate you. It’s because of you.”

He rolled his eyes, chuckling. “You know it was all you. You have to stop saying it was me.”

“Right.” You narrowed your eyes, imperceptibly. “Of course I won rookie of the year because I was busking in Hongdae.”

“Come on,” he let out. “We’ve been over this a thousand times.”

“And we’ll go over it a thousand times more until you accept that it’s because of you.”

He rolled his eyes, shaking his head slightly. “Right. Then why don’t we get a drink to celebrate me? Since it’s all because of me.”

You laughed, eyes sliding to the bar. “Whiskey?”

“Champagne?”

“You like champagne?”

He shook his head. “Not at all. But if we are celebrating something that didn’t happen, then we should drink something we don’t like.”

You cocked your head to the side once more. “What makes you think I don’t like champagne?”

“Do you?”

Your silence was answer enough for Yoongi. You both laughed, and then he motioned towards the bar. “After you.”

You nodded, slowly, and then moved towards the alcohol, and towards your salvation, maybe. Because though Yoongi had always felt like comfort, right now he felt different. New, a little like you had felt that night months ago.

The night you were trying not to think about, whenever you hung out with him. You had never talked about his ex either, as if the subject was taboo. And perhaps it was if you wanted to maintain a friendship with Min Yoongi.

“We’ll take two whiskeys,” Yoongi said as you reached the bar, and you threw him an offended look.

“Whiskey? I thought we were going for champagne.”

“I’ll be damned if you catch me drinking champagne,” he muttered.

It was said so adorably you widened your gaze, letting out a small laugh. “Maybe you’re already damned,” you said, and you raised your hand so the barmaid noticed you. “Can you change that for champagne, please?”

She nodded, and you turned back towards a bewildered Yoongi. “You…”

He fell silent, and you cocked an eyebrow. “Yes?”

He only snorted, shaking his head slightly as his eyes fell to the floor. “Nothing.”

You moved a little closer, trying to meet his gaze. “Right.”

He rolled his eyes, gently pushing you away. It was familiar, more familiar than your usual friendship, but it felt fitting for the night and its brightness.

Your champagne arrived, and you looked down at the golden liquid as Yoongi handed you your glass. Your fingers barely even touched, yet you felt the warmth of a thousand suns crawling up your arm, slowly. You would have flinched had the feeling not been so pleasurable, especially as Yoongi looked at you again.

He looked at you differently. Like it was his first time seeing you after a long time. Like you were a flower he had forgotten, years ago, and was now only seeing again. It made your heart stop in your chest, before it started again on an erratic beat.

“Enjoy,” he said, and he clinked his glass with yours before downing his own.

Your gaze widened as he put the glass down on the bar, wincing slightly. “What was that for?”

“Your turn.”

“What?” you let out, and you laughed.

His eyes were different again, familiar, when they looked at you this time. The eyes of the friend you had grown to know in the last few weeks. “Finish it, so we can get some real alcohol.”

“I don’t want to chug.”

“Why not?”

You pursed your lips. “I don’t want to get too drunk tonight.”

He remained silent for a time, tongue darting out to wet his lips. “Why not?”

Because. Because last time he had looked at you like this while you had been drinking had led to an unimaginable chaos, one you didn’t wish to revisit. No matter how comfortable he was, Yoongi was always going to just be a friend.

“I want to remember tonight,” you chose to say, carefully. “I’ve already forgotten most of the award show, I don’t want to forget the after-party too.”

He laughed, a clear sound that was meant just for your ears, in the loud music playing in the party. It was almost your first time noticing the beat since you had joined Yoongi, as if you had joined him in a pocket outside of this room.

Crashing back to reality had you look down at your glass. And then you knocked it back, chugging it in a few long sips as Yoongi watched you with a widened gaze.

“You didn’t have to do this,” he said as you put it down. “Let’s get you some water.”

“Why?” you asked. “Why do you care if I remember or not?”

Your tone had changed. He noticed it right away, and he stilled in front of you, turning to stone. “Because you’re my friend?” he answered carefully. “If you want to remember, then the good friendly thing to do is make sure you do.”

The way he said that sentence, with that low voice of his, the one that only came out when he was in private, or perhaps when he was tired… it did things to you. Made you look at him as if the light was shining differently on him.

Differently, yes, but all the same too. Shining like that night months ago, and if you weren’t in public you think you would have grabbed his collar and pulled him into a kiss.

A terrifying thought if you had ever seen one, and it made you glance around. “Should we… go somewhere else?”

It wasn’t what you had meant to ask. It was threading dangerous territory, a slope that could only lead to mistakes again. To unprofessionalism, though this time your relationship with him wasn’t professional.

You were giving yourself whiplash. All the months, of fame and newfound friendship, were giving you whiplash. You weren’t sure you’d ever get used to it.

“You don’t like the party?” he asked.

You met his gaze. “I know you don’t. We don’t have to stay.”

His lips parted slightly, and your eyes fell to them, admiring their pinkish tint. “What would there be for you to remember, then?”

You.

You didn’t say it, only shrugged your shoulders. “I already partied before you got here. Do you know that Sana and Jihyo are the sweetest girls?”

He smiled, softly. “Are they? I’ve never really spoken to them.”

You wet your lip, eyes sliding to the empty champagne glasses on the bar, almost at the same time as they were picked up to be put away. “Yeah. And honestly, I don’t do parties all that much either.” You brushed a strand of hair behind your ear, only then noticing that your hands were shaking slightly. “I only came because you were going to be here.”

“Did you?” he asked.

He sounded like he didn’t believe you, like you were supposed to be enjoying the scene around you. And you were, you really were, but the light was shining on something else entirely now, a treasure you wanted to find, like it was but the red cross on a treasure map.

You didn’t know if it existed, but tonight you wanted to believe that it did.

“Yes, I did,” you replied truthfully.

He chuckled. “And I only came here because you were coming.”

You smiled, knowingly. “So, should we go?”

*****

The city lied beneath your feet. An ocean of twinkling lights, out of reach. Like jewels shining in the night, never-ending. You felt small, standing atop the building, and your breath froze in the air, curling up to reach the clouds above.

“It’s cold,” Yoongi stated, and you glanced at him.

His hands were buried deep in his coat pockets, and he was visibly trying to hide his face in the collar. You smiled at him, shivering in a soft breeze.

“The cold is sobering,” you replied, eyes trailing back to the city. “Isn’t it pretty?”

Yoongi took a few steps forward, until he was standing next to you. He contemplated the view, and to your surprise he tilted his head back to look at the clouds.

“The sky looks like it’s on fire,” he commented.

You imitated the position, your eyes trailing to the sky. Indeed, the clouds were shining orange, reflecting the neon lights of the city below. “It does,” you agreed. “Would make for good song lyrics.”

He chuckled. “You never stop thinking about music, do you?”

“I don’t.” You paused, and the feeling of his heavy gaze on your profile had you look at him. “Do you?”

“Nah.” He shook his head, slightly. “Sometimes, I think it’s a gift. Other times, it feels like it’s a curse.”

Understandable. Because if the grind never stopped, then neither could you.

“I’ve started writing a new song,” you revealed, as it felt fitting in the moment. Your eyes trailed back to the city below, and you wondered if this city, this collection of shimmering lights, was what you were referring to in your lyrics. If it was the dream you were writing about. “Why is it that most of my songs are sad or angry?”

Yoongi didn’t say anything for a long time. Only contemplated the city in a pensive silence. Wind lapped at his coat, at your hair, and you shivered again. Your own coat was tightly wrapped around you, but it did nothing to keep the cold at bay.

“Are you sad and angry?” he asked.

You pondered for a time. “It’s hard to let go of emotions that have been integral parts of your life for so long.”

To your surprise, he stepped closer to you. Maybe because it was cold, and your bodies gave off heat, just enough for you to be attracted to each other. Like your gravity sucked him in, and soon enough his arm was pressed against yours.

“The letting go is the hardest part,” he admitted. “Because it’s a comfort zone. But once you allow yourself to feel… it’s a whole new world.”

“How did you do it?”

He sighed, and his eyes dropped to the ground beneath your feet, no longer admiring the city. “I’d say it’s Hoba, that helped me the most. But all of them. They showed me that there’s more to life than anger and sadness.”

“Your music still carries it, though,” you pointed out.

“It does.” Head hung low, Min Yoongi looked the perfect example of defeat. Like he’d run a race, reached the end only to realize he was going in the wrong direction. “The emotions still exist. I still experience them sometimes. And…” he trailed off, looking in the distance. “It’s what my fans want of me. They don’t expect me to release soft music all that much.”

“So, you’re doing it for the fans?”

He smiled, softly. “I love my fans. I’d be nothing without them.”

A year ago you would have been deadly jealous but now, now you had fans of your own. You could understand him.

“They love you too,” you reminded him. “They’d still love you if you released different music.”

He shrugged. “I have an album coming soon. It’s different.”

“Is it?”

A car honked in the world far below. “It is. I can send it to you, if you want to listen.”

“I’d love to.”

He met your gaze, and for a moment it was as if winter had ceded its place to summer, and warmth blossomed inside of you. “As long as you let me read your lyrics.”

You winced, chuckling lightly. “Maybe when the song is ready.”

He faced you, extending a hand in the air between you. “Deal.”

You grabbed his fingers, gently. They were cold, terribly so, and you felt bad for forcing him to be out here. “Deal,” you agreed, shaking his hand.

His thumb moved on the back of your hand, slowly, drawing a strange pattern. Current flew through your bloodstream, and you shivered once more, for a completely different reason this time.

Your brain chose this moment to remind you of that night, months ago, when you had gone to his place wanting to tell him how he had made you feel. When you had seen him with his ex, with his girlfriend. When you had realized he had chosen her, though he had never really known you were an option, had he?

You let go of his hand, albeit reluctantly, but you remained facing him.

“You never told me…” you started, but didn’t know if you should finish. Mostly because you didn’t think it was a good idea to ask, not when the evening still shone like a thousand stars. Especially now that Yoongi was looking at you again, with that fond glimmer in the depths of his eyes.

“What?” he asked after a few seconds, voice small in the infinity of the world.

“You never told me why you broke up with your girlfriend, in the end.”

If the world could stop breathing, you were pretty sure it did, in that instant. It held its breath, as you watched Min Yoongi carefully.

“She cheated on me, before I met you,” he revealed, flatly. “Claiming I was too absent. I took her back when she came back… because I felt lonely. Realized she was the source of the loneliness and broke up for good.”

You held his gaze, hoping yours held nothing of how you felt. Because you felt a lot, as the truth reached your ears. You ached for him, ached at knowing that he had felt like that back then. But you ached for yourself too, because what else had he been pursuing with you other than the company she couldn’t give him?

You had just been in the right place at the right moment. Something that he had been able to use for comfort. The way you had sought his comfort, perhaps.

“I’m sorry,” you said after a while. “I’m sorry that happened to you.”

His eyes were unreadable, but his cheeks were tinged red with the cold. He looked pretty, angelic, in front of you. With the burning clouds overhead, you’d almost think he was a fallen angel.

“It’s okay,” he reassured you, his voice low once more. Intimate, just for you. “I never should have let her back in.”

“Why?” you asked, and your throat suddenly felt dry. You tried to swallow, but a lump made you gulp.

“Why did you actually come to me, that night?” he asked. “Not when we recorded the song. After we…” He trailed off, but you knew what he was referring to.

He was referring to the night you had believed you could confess to him how you had felt. To that night, where hope turned to decay, and all you could do was let go of comfort. All you could do was go back to the sad discomfort that was your life.

“I…” You bit your lip, pulling on some dry skin. “I wanted to tell you what it had meant for me? When we slept together.”

He gulped. You could visibly see it, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down. “And what did it mean?”

Your gaze dropped in the vague space between you. It felt infinitesimally immense right now, like he was an entire universe away. “We shouldn’t be speaking about that.”

“Why?”

“Because we’re friends now.” You met his gaze, surprised to find his pained. “Friends don’t speak about such things.”

“True friendship is when there’s no taboo subject, is it not?”

Min Yoongi and his wisdom would be the death of you.

“I guess it is,” you said. “I just… I don’t want to ruin this.”

He took a step closer to you. So close you could feel his warmth, even though the night was cold. “Why would it ruin anything?”

Your heart beat faster, in your chest. Reaching a speed unknown to it, one that left you breathless. “Because…”

Because what? You didn’t even know. You weren’t drunk, at least not on alcohol. But you sure were drunk on the aftertaste of winning the award, of being right here with him on top of this building as if you were standing in your own pocket in this world. A little like it felt down at the party, but so much more. So much so that you pictured yourself leaning in, falling into his orbit.

“I don’t think it’d ruin anything,” he said, voice so low you really felt yourself leaning in. “I was there that night. I know how it felt.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

“I told you I didn’t do regret, right?” he asked, question seemingly out of the blue.

“You did.”

“I regretted what I did to you, for the longest time. Thought I deserved to be lonely. So it wasn’t just because of her, that I broke up. It was because of you too. I regret going back to her in the first place.”

Softly, like a feather falling or snow dancing in the wind, your heartbeat found a steady rhythm once more.

“You shouldn’t have regretted,” you said, and you surprised both of you as your hand reached between you, and you cupped his cheek. “I don’t think we would have worked, then.”

“Why?”

“We were too different.” You chuckled, infinitely sadly. “We still are, aren’t we?”

“We’re not different in the ways that matter,” he pointed out.

And when he leaned forward, you welcomed him in as one welcomes a lover home from the war. You let him press his chapped lips on yours, let his mouth move against yours in the slowest dance. As if he was afraid you’d pull away, but tonight you didn’t want to pull away.

It wasn’t about seeking comfort anymore. It really was about going home, to something that could be great.

You kissed Min Yoongi under the clouds, in the winter night. You kissed him with all the longing you had felt, though you had been trying to ignore it. It came back, far stronger now, and it made you grab at his collar so you could pull him closer. He sighed in the kiss, big hands finding your waist, holding you in place.

And when he pulled away, resting his forehead against yours, your breaths mingled, forming a single cloud that moved up towards the sky.

“See?” he murmured. “Nothing to be ruined.”

“Yoongi,” you breathed.

He said your name, and then pulled away, just enough for his eyes to flutter open. You looked at him too, and when your gazes met, you understood that it really had been supposed to happen this way all along. You hadn’t been supposed to be with him then. Because it was unprofessional, yes, but mostly because you would have always felt like you weren’t enough.

Hell, you didn’t know if you were enough right now, but you were already something more.

“Do you want to go in?” he asked after a moment of gazing at each other. “I’m starting to freeze.”

You laughed, the sound lighter than dust in the sun. “Yes.”

“I’d invite you to my hotel room but…” he trailed off, resting his forehead against yours again. “Let’s take this slow. Let’s wait until we’re back home.”

“We’re going home tomorrow.”

He chuckled. “Well, that’s still slower than going at it tonight, no?”

“We can wait longer,” you said, and you were the one that pulled away this time around. Because you needed to look him in the eye when you said the next words. “If we’re going to really do this, I want to do it the right way.”

His smile shed warmth and light on every dark spot of your soul, until you were shining from within. “Works for me.”

*****

Dating Min Yoongi felt strange. Unreal, like it was a dream come true. Like you were walking the land of dreams, and really you wished you wouldn’t have to wake up. You didn’t think you would – he pulled through every day. Met you in the middle, in the places that mattered most. He supported you as an artist, and supported you as a person too.

But for some reason, you hadn’t been able to fully give yourself to him yet. You had only been going on dates, never sleeping over, never sleeping together. And if he minded, he never said it.

The holidays came, and Yoongi invited you to a party hosted by Jeong Hoseok. All the other members were in attendance too, except Kim Taehyung, who apparently was away in Daegu for the week. Some of the members also had their partners with them – in truth, everyone did, except Kim Seokjin, Kim Namjoon and Jeong Hoseok, though the latter had a friend over that seemed a little too comfortable with him for her to just be a friend.

The girlfriends were nice. Sweet, another group of friends you hadn’t expected to make. None of them treated you differently because you were somehow famous, probably because they were all dating people far more famous than you’d ever be. You got along with Hoseok’s friend the most, and you thought it was only because it was also her first time meeting everyone.

The party was fun. It was more of a dinner, with alcohol and food like a banquet for the gods. You ate so much you thought you couldn’t walk anymore after, yet you managed to make your way home with Yoongi.

Because this time, when he had asked you to sleep over, you hadn’t found it in you to refuse. Perhaps because it was the holidays, and the feeling of coziness and comfort that the days oozed had you wanting to drown in his familiarity.

If Yoongi noticed the switch in you, he didn’t say. Ever so the patient man when it came to you.

You looked at him, during the drive home. His features shone softly, in the neon light of the streetlamps. It made his skin glow like honey, like amber. You reached between you, grazing your fingers on his cheek.

“What?” he asked, letting out a small chuckle. “Have they made you drink too much?”

You snorted, resting your head against your seat. “No.”

He spared a quick glance at you, before resuming his attention on the street in front of him, as he was the one driving the car. Indeed, for this private dinner you had all chosen to drive yourself, instead of asking for the company to drive you around.

“What’s up, then?”

You sighed, a little dreamily. “You’re pretty, Min Yoongi.”

It was hard to tell in this light, but you were pretty sure his cheeks had dusted with pink. “And then you say you haven’t drank too much?”

You laughed. “It’s just a compliment!”

“You don’t usually compliment me like this,” he pointed out.

He wasn’t wrong, but it felt fitting, tonight. Because you were staying over, maybe.

“Well, I should start doing it. You deserve it.”

He snorted. “You’re adorable.”

Now, it was your turn to blush, and your eyes trailed to the street in front of you.

“Am I?”

He grabbed your hand, entwining your fingers. “You sure are.”

When you got to his place, Yoongi parked his car in the underground parking lot. He forced you to stay in your seat while he walked around the car to hold the door open for you, and you swatted his arm as you got up.

“You know you don’t have to do this with me?”

“But I want to,” he said, pouting. “Can’t I do something for you once in a while?”

“You always do stuff for me.”

It was true. Whatever you needed Yoongi was always ready to provide, whether it was help with some lyrics or a hug.

“Doesn’t mean I can’t do more,” he said as you stepped out of the car, standing next to him.

By instinct, you reached between you, one hand resting on his waist as you tilted your head back, slightly, enough to be looking up at him.

“Right,” you breathed, and your eyes moved to his lips as he wet them.

“What’s that look on your face?” he asked, voice low and husky.

You smirked, ever so slightly. “What look?”

He narrowed his eyes, leaning closer to you, and the smirk disappeared. “So you want to be a brat?”

You hadn’t expected that of him. In truth, you didn’t really know how he was sexually, considering the only time you had had sex with him was when you were both drunk and vulnerable, trying to chase comfort in the other’s touch.

“Do you like that?” you asked, breathlessly.

He pressed a chaste kiss to your lips, before pulling away to explore your features with that dark gaze of his. “I like whatever you like.”

“So if I tell you to get on your knees and eat me out you would?” you whispered, smirk moving back to your lips.

He had the decency to blush as he spared a careful look around. “Here?”

You pondered, tilting your head to the side to reveal the soft skin of your neck. “You think we can wait until we’re upstairs?”

“Anyone could see us.”

You looked around. “The garage is empty.”

He murmured your name, dangerously. “You’re going to be the death of me.”

“Then we shall die together.”

It was the last thing you said before he pressed his lips against yours, ravishing your mouth in a wet kiss that had you moan. His large hands found your sides, pulling you back against the car until you were stuck between it and him. His tongue toyed with yours, exploring your mouth until you were panting, feeling the start of his erection on your lower stomach.

He pulled away, just enough so he could move down and press warm kisses on your jaw. He then bent down a little more, reaching your shoulder, and he bit at the skin over the collar of your coat.

You breathed out his name, sensually, as your hands got lost in his long locks. It only enticed him further, and he grinded into you. It made you throw your head back, and this time he nipped at your neck, not so gently, eliciting another moan from you.

“Gosh, Yoongi,” you said, and he raised his head to look at you.

His pupils were blown wide in his eyes, clear indicators of his lust for you. They made his gaze look like a bottomless pit, one you jumped in right as you pulled him back into another kiss, sucking on his bottom lip.

You blindly reached for the knob of the car’s door, the one for the backseat behind you, and when you found it you pushed Yoongi away, just so you could open it. As you did so, he shut the passenger side door, and he followed you in as you lied on the backseat.

He hovered over you, hair falling around his face, and you pushed it away from his face, holding it in a ponytail-like grip. Some strands escaped the confines of your fist, softly cascading the sides of his face again.

Min Yoongi was a prince. A prince and an angel. A dream, something you had never thought you’d witness yourself in your entire life. And witness you did, with your eyes and every inch of your body that you knew he’d come to worship. Just like you worshipped him and the ground he walked on.

“What?” he murmured as you just kept carefully surveying him.

“You’re so beautiful,” you breathed, and you watched as his mouth fell open.

He had never been good at accepting compliments, even those coming from you.

He whispered your name like a lover’s caress. “So are you. You’ve been a vision, ever since the first time I saw you.”

You wet your lips. “The first time?”

“I was walking in Hongdae, with some company staff. Didn’t get recognized by some dumb twist of luck I’d say. But you were busking.” You thought you could see him gulp. Hear him, as he swallowed a lump in his throat. “I couldn’t walk away. Just kept looking at you, for so long the staff started getting worried. Because they didn’t want to attract any unwanted attention. But gosh, you were so beautiful.” He chuckled, lowly. “It was like I had walked into a temple and seen a goddess.”

“Yoongi,” you whined, because you too weren’t good with compliments.

But he wasn’t done.

“And you sang. The voice of an angel, if I’m honest. I was entranced. Then I spent weeks trying to find you, making staff go to Hongdae to try and get your name. Because I needed to know you. Needed to know you weren’t just a construct of my imagination.”

He pecked your lips this time, as if he really needed to make sure you were real.

“When I started listening to your music, I recognized myself in the lyrics,” he admitted. “That’s why I approached you in the first place, and then I just…” He rested his forehead against yours, and your eyes fluttered shut. “I just needed to have you in my life. Any way whatsoever. I was stupid to stay with Yejun, because I think I already knew then that I was going to fall in love with you.”

You repeated his name, like he was a melody. And to you he was. He was your melody, the music that made your soul dance. The muse to your mind, and the song to your heart. “We all are stupid sometimes.”

He chuckled. “I’m relieved the months have led me to you after all. I’m not sure I deserve it.”

“You do.” You wrapped your arms around his waist, trying to bring him closer. “You deserve everything in this world.”

The following kiss was slow. Languid, as if he needed to trace his love into you, using his lips to build you anew. It was beauty personified, comfort revived. Everything in you went steady, and then sang to the melody he carried, the one you carried together.

When he pulled away from the kiss to look at you with his dark eyes, cheeks flushed from the ministrations, you read the desire on his features, like one would read a sheet music. Unsure at first, focusing, until the language of music took over you.

At least, that was how it worked for you.

“I want you,” you breathed in the space between you, and he nodded.

“I know.” He laughed, looking around. “You made me get in this car for that reason, didn’t you?”

You barely remembered. All you knew was that you never wanted to exit the safety of this nest, with him. Of his embrace, and of the fondness and desire in his eyes. Whatever song passion was about to have you dance to, you were ready to jump in, feet first and soul open.

“Eat me out,” you breathlessly begged, and his pink lips parted slightly.

“I’m no contortionist,” he joked, unexpectedly. “Can you move up?”

You laughed, slightly pushing him so he knelt between your legs. “You’re annoying. Yes I can.”

He offered you his secretive smile, and then his hands deftly discarded you of your coat. He took his off too, throwing both on the passenger seat. “Then what are you waiting for?”

You bit your lip, a mischievous glint igniting in your eyes. “I think you should work for it.”

At that his face went fully dark, like all the light had gone out. He looked like the devil incarnate, the fallen angel you had thought to see on the rooftop of the hotel some weeks ago.

He said your name like a warning, and it made your head cock to the side. “Aren’t you a good boy? I think I remember you liked me ordering you around last time.”

In truth, you weren’t even sure he had. Just felt like being a brat, and you had always been more on the dominant side anyway.

“As I said,” he murmured, and he bent down to ravish another kiss on your lips, “my goal is to make you feel good. I’ll be whatever you want me to be.”

That was enough for you, and you quickly moved up until your back was resting against the car door. He took off your shoes, before pulling your dress pants down your legs.

“I’m already dripping,” you purred, hand reaching to palm yourself over your panties. “I think I’ve been dripping all night thinking about you.”

He chuckled. “So you’ve been thinking about fucking me all night?”

“Oh, I’ve been thinking about it for a while. Just wanted to make you wait.”

He furrowed his brows. “Why?”

“Eat me out and I’ll tell you.”

He let out a sound between a groan and a moan, and then he moved back, resting one knee on the ground so he could position himself between your legs. “Fuck, baby.” He looked at your clothed cunt, and then his eyes met yours again. “You really are dripping. I don’t even have to touch you.”

You breathed out an uneven breath. “Touch me.”

It was his turn to smirk, though he still obeyed, leaning forward so he could kiss your entrance over your panties. “Like this?”

“You’re a brat,” you said.

“Maybe.”

“Fucking eat me out, Min Yoongi, before I decide not to have sex with you tonight.”

Emboldened, he said, “As if you’d step away now.”

This time, he sucked on your clit, eyes never leaving yours. The devil incarnate indeed. Though, it seemed he had teased you enough, because he pulled your panties to the side, and his tongue dove once between your folds.

“You taste so good,” he praised.

“Yeah?”

He nodded, and then he lapped at your entrance, before swirling his tongue around your clit. “Yeah.”

When his mouth closed around the sensitive nub and he sucked hard, your lips parted on a silent moan, eyes closing tightly with the pleasure that moved through you.

“You know,” he said, barely pulling away. You could feel his hot breath on your pussy, and it only made you ache for him. “This time I want you to come. I’ll make you fucking come until you can’t walk anymore.”

“Jesus, fuck, Yoongi,” you uttered, and you cracked an eye open to see him smirking devilishly between your legs. “You go all romantic on me and then you say that?”

The smirk turned into a smile, and he pressed a kiss on the inside of your thigh. “Can’t I be romantic and want to make you feel good at the same time?”

“What are you doing talking to me, then?” you asked. “Shouldn’t you be –“

He didn’t let you finish before he dove back in, and this time he dove hard. As if he wanted you to forget every word in the dictionary, every song you had ever sang. All that was left was the sounds of your pants and moans, entwined with the squelching of his fingers when they started slipping in and out of you, following the same relentless pace as his tongue.

Yoongi was too skilled with his tongue. You remembered as much from that night months ago, even though you had been drunk then. You were a little drunk today, but the alcohol had mostly worn off on the way home. So it didn’t surprise you when an orgasm bubbled on the horizon, rushing towards you faster than you had expected it to.

When Yoongi sucked hard, teeth grazing your clit, you lost it, crashing into your high like a car crashing into a wall at eighty miles per hour. You cried out, something that resembled his name, and your hands pulled at his locks, as your hips rocked forward.

He planted a firm hand on your stomach to force you to stay down as he pulled away, resting his head against your inner thigh. His gaze met yours, and he resumed the movements of his fingers.

You hadn’t noticed he had stopped in the first place.

“That felt good?” he asked.

It felt better than good. It felt like a symphony, a complete orchestra guiding you to heaven. A choir, beautiful, angelic.

“Fuck,” you breathed. “Fuck it did.”

He smirked, content, as he fingered you, slowly. “That was only the first one.”

“We’re going to have to work on you too,” you purred. “I want to see you come.”

Your words shut him up, as he inhaled sharply, lust burning so bright in his pupils you thought he might combust in front of you. Yet, he pressed into that sweet spot inside of you, arching his fingers so he could play with it until you were seeing stars again.

You stopped him before he could make you come. Mostly because, when you squirted, you were done for after. You weren’t ready to be done tonight.

“Let’s go up to your condo,” you suggested as he threw you a questioning glance. “As much as fucking in a car’s hot, I’d prefer the comfort of your bed.”

“Your wish is my command,” he agreed, and he sucked a hickey on your inner thigh before pulling his fingers out of you. He put your panties back in place gently, and his eyes fell to his fingers. You both watched as he spread them, strings of your juice connecting the digits still. “Fuck, look at this.”

“That’s all because of you,” you praised. “A good fucking boy.”

He chuckled, wetting his lips. “Always, for you.”

He licked at his fingers, as if to clean them, before he seemed to consider something else. When he brought them closer to your mouth, you huffed a moan before wrapping your lips around the digits, sucking as your tongue cleaned them. His breathing turned a little ragged, and he looked as if he was seconds away from fucking you right then and there when you pulled away with a satisfying pop.

“Everything okay?” you asked, teasingly.

“The elevator ride is going to be so long,” he muttered, and you let out a laugh as you pulled your pants up your legs.

He handed you your shoes, and you quickly put them back on as he got out of the car, grabbing the coats on the passenger seat. It took you a few seconds, but soon enough, you were out too, ready to go up.

Yoongi wasn’t wrong. Just waiting for the elevator took forever, and when you were encased in it, you both exchanged a look so full of longing you jumped on him, grabbing his collar so you could pull him into a heated kiss. He pushed you against the wall, sucking on your bottom lip as the elevator moved up, ever so slowly.

It felt like time was stretching, turning to infinity, and he was sucking a hickey on your neck by the time the elevator came to a halt, doors sliding open on his level.

You walked out, hot and bothered, making your way to his door. He dialed the code in, pushed the door open, and as soon as it was closed, he was on you again, pressing you against the door. He must have dropped the coats on the floor, because his hands held your cheeks as he kissed you stupid, toying with your mouth with that wicked tongue of his.

“Yoongi,” you moaned in his mouth, and he pulled away to rest his forehead against yours.

You both breathed raggedly for a few seconds, and then he grabbed your hand, moving it to where his dick pressed against his pants.

“You got me so fucking horny,” he said, and he chuckled, low sound that reverberated through every inch of you. “I’m so fucking hard and you haven’t even touched me yet.”

“Should I suck your dick?” you asked. “I feel like you’d be coming down my throat in no time.”

He moaned as you palmed it harder, and he grinded his hips, seeking friction. “Whatever you want, baby.”

“Whatever?” you asked, and you let out a small dangerous laugh. “So if I ask you to fuck my ass you would.”

It wasn’t that you wanted that. You just knew he was wrapped around your finger, ready to obey your every command. The way his dick twitched under your hand told you so, and he let out a breathy sound.

“You like that?” he asked.

You captured his lips in a kiss, and once you pulled away, you said, “It could be fun. But I’d rather have you fuck my pussy tonight.”

He nodded against you, before straightening. His gaze drank you in for a few seconds, and you admired his swollen lips. They looked even prettier like this, especially knowing that you were the cause of it. That your ministrations made him look like this, like he was minutes away from losing it.

You were going to make sure he did. But first, you wanted to make your way to his room. Because as much as you wanted him, you weren’t an animal. You could wait a moment longer.

“Let’s go to your room,” you told him. “Then you can fuck me.”

“Alright,” he said, and he added your name like a sinful melody. “You think you can come around my dick?”

“Fill me up and we’ll see.”

He let out a small whiny moan, and then you pushed him away so you could take off your shoes. He kicked his off too, a little awkwardly, and a moment later you were following him up the stairs, both of you ignoring the barking of his dog.

Yoongi had taken to caging Holly in the kitchen, mostly because he didn’t want the little dog to pee on the carpet of the living room once more. You both ignored the dog, and you would have felt a little guilty had he not thrown you a lustful look over his shoulder.

“I’ll fill you up just fine, if that’s what you want,” he said, in response to what you had said earlier. “I’ll fill you up and watch you drip with my cum after.”

Your mouth fell open, mostly because you were surprised at his crude words.

“You know, I thought you’re more of a sub,” you admitted, and you chuckled. “Seems getting you horny makes you a brat too, uh?”

“Seems you make me a brat,” he replied, and he chuckled too, slightly shaking his head. “I am more of a sub though. Hence why I’ll do whatever the fuck you want.”

You reached his room, and you cocked your head to the side as he paused in the doorway, turning to look at him.

“Take off your clothes.”

If he was surprised by your command, he didn’t let it show. He instead obeyed, slowly unbuttoning the pale nude colored dress shirt he was wearing.

Some Valentino dress shirt he had worn in Paris, that you had told him you loved too much for him not to wear again. He had taken to wearing it more often than not, especially when it was just the two of you.

The shirt fell softly to the ground, slowly. It puddled at his feet, and he cocked his head to the side as your eyes roamed his figure. Barely stopping on the scars on his shoulder, scars you promised yourself you’d kiss later, when the sins had come to completion.

He took his time to rid himself of his pants, his eyes never leaving yours. They burned with desire, so much so that you thought you had caught fire. You weren’t sure you were hearing an angelic choir anymore – you rather thought you had descended straight to Hell, and you were more than okay with it.

The pants fell at his ankles, and he stepped out, blinking once. “Should I take this off too?” he asked, thumbs hooking in his underwear.

“That and the socks,” you said, nodding your head.

He bit his lip, wet it, and then the boxers joined the rest of his clothes on the floor. He bent down, took off the socks, and then he was standing again, in his full naked glory, hard dick standing proud against his stomach. You took a step closer, wrapping your hand around the base of his cock, and you pressed a kiss on his jaw.

“Were you good enough for me to suck you a little?” you asked. You nipped at the skin of his neck, and he let out a soft moan. “I’ll suck you if you promise you won’t come.”

He laughed, and he sounded a little scared, but infinitely turned on. “I’ll try.”

You held his dick tighter. “You’re going to have to do better than try.”

He didn’t reply, just surveyed you with his dark lustful eyes, as you dropped to your knees. As if he needed all his focus on not coming, even as he drank in the sight of you on your knees for him. Already licking your lips, remembering just how good he tasted then.

He tasted just as good today. Maybe even a little more, because he was yours, and that had to account for something. He tasted like ambrosia, like the wine of the gods. His dick was rock hard in your mouth, and his eyes shut as soon as you started working on him.

Probably because, if he was to look at you for a moment longer, he was going to come. He really was wrapped around your fingers again, and so you offered the best you had to offer. And when his breathing turned so ragged you were pretty sure he was about to lose his fight against his orgasm, you pulled away.

It looked like it pained him, but when you got up and captured his lips in yet another languid kiss, he kissed you back with a fervor you almost weren’t expecting. It made your head spin, until you were a moaning mess.

Or maybe that was because he had sunk two fingers inside of you again, sliding his hand in your pants, and he was fucking you like that.

“You’re so,” he started, and he hissed as you bit at his neck, “so wet. I’m going to slide right in.”

You rested your head against his shoulder as his fingers kept fucking you, so quickly your legs started trembling. You grabbed his wrist, trying to slow him down, but if there was a thing about Min Yoongi that you were now realizing, it was that he was just as skilled with his fingers than with his mouth.

“Fuck,” you hissed against his shoulder. “Stop, I want you to fuck me.”

He chuckled, pressing a kiss on your temple, and his digits left you empty. He teased your clit for a moment, and your teeth sunk in his skin in retaliation. He cursed under his breath, but he finally slid his hand out of your pants, bringing it up to his mouth to clean himself.

You didn’t move as he did so, mostly because your legs still felt infinitely weak. You only moved when he grabbed your shoulders gently, pushing you away just enough for you to meet his gaze.

“You want me to fuck you?” he teased, and you clenched your jaw.

As you loosened it, your tongue poked at your cheek and your eyes turned dark. Lustful, sinful. Vengeful. “I didn’t tell you you could finger me like this, did I?”

He leaned closer, pressing his forehead against yours. “You seemed to enjoy it.”

You grabbed his balls, squeezing lightly. Not enough to hurt, but enough to have him tense next to you. “Oh, I enjoyed plenty. Now, why don’t you get the clothes off of me?”

He smirked, nodding against you, and then he pulled away. His large skilled hands quickly rid you of your clothing, and soon enough you were standing naked next to him.

“Should I fuck you now?” he asked, with that same bratty attitude he was just now getting.

“Bed,” you ordered. “I’ll fuck myself on you.”

“You want to use me?”

You captured his lips in a kiss, sucking on his tongue when it slid in your mouth. “I will use you.”

At that he gulped, but it was enough to convince him to obey. He finally moved towards the bed, laying down on the pillowy softness of his mattress, hands propped behind his head. He surveyed you carefully as you stalked closer, though you aimed for his night table first.

“Is that where you keep your condoms?” you asked.

He seemed scared for a time, sitting up quickly with a widened gaze. “Let me get that for you.”

You paused, hand on the knob of the drawer. “Got something to hide?”

He gulped, seemingly searching for words. His tongue darted on his pink lips, and then he let out a nervous chuckle. “Not really.”

“Okay?” you said, cocking your head to the side. “So I can open this?”

He breathed in, holding his breath as he nodded.

It wasn’t anything embarrassing, if you were honest. All you found in the drawer were condoms, lube and a pair of handcuffs. At least that was what you thought at first glance. You met his gaze, grabbing the handcuffs. Though your fingers grazed something else, and you shot a confused look to the drawer.

That was when you noticed the black anal plug. Your lips parted, and your gaze met Yoongi’s once more.

“So you do like anal play, do you?” you breathed out.

He looked away from you, though a smirk played on his lips. With that deep, scratchy voice of his, he said, “Can’t say that I don’t.”

You let go of the handcuffs, grabbing the anal plug instead. “You use that on yourself?” you asked, raising it in the space between you.

“Both me and my partners,” he replied truthfully.

You grabbed the lube, and then made your way to the bed. “I’ve never had an anal plug in before,” you admitted. “Now you’ve got my curiosity piqued.”

He laughed, and it wasn’t horny or anything of the sorts. Just sweet. “You want to try?”

The dominant side of you wanted you to say you’d rather put it in him, but there was something about the unknown that made your breath hitch in your throat. Because you did want to know.

You put the plug and lube on the bed, before sitting next to him. He put a large hand on your thigh, running it up and down leaving goosebumps behind. He was looking at you expectantly, and you bit your lip, finally nodding your head yes.

“I’d love to try.”

He leaned closer, pecking your lips once in a familiar gesture before motioning to his bed. “I’d recommend getting on all fours. Face-first in the pillows.”

“What makes you think you can order me around, mmh?” you purred.

His hand gently cupped your neck, skilled fingers immediately finding the arteries. He didn’t choke you right away, instead forcing you to tilt your head back. He sucked a hickey on your jaw, and you hissed, trying to move away, but he was firmly holding you into place.

“The fact you want me to use my toys on you, maybe?”

The fucking brat.

You rarely were silenced, when it came to sex, but it seemed Yoongi had found how to render you mute.

He smirked, and then he choked you, mouth finding yours in yet another hot, languid kiss that left your mind spinning. Or maybe that was the absence of a blood flow to your head. All you could do was reach between you, aiming blindly for his dick. He was rock hard, and you jerked him off slowly, mostly because you were too focused on the kiss. On every swipe of his tongue, on every grunt he emitted.

When he pulled away, fingers finally letting go of your neck, you breathed in shakily.

“I guess I’ll get on all fours then,” you said.

It must have sounded funny, because Yoongi laughed, pecking your forehead. “Only if you’re comfortable.”

Your tongue poked the inside of your cheek once more, and you slightly shook your head. “You really are going to be the death of me.”

“Just trying to make you feel good,” he said, face falling fully serious. Serious and dark, like he was about to ruin you. And you liked the switch in dynamics, even though you had always been more of a dom yourself.

You positioned yourself, ass up and face down in the pillows. Yoongi kneeled behind you, and you heard more than you saw when he uncapped the lube bottle. You startled a little when the first drop of cold liquid hit your asshole, but when Yoongi started rubbing it around, your eyes shut and you focused on the feeling.

Though new and foreign, it was a pleasurable feeling, one that made your pussy clench around nothing. Especially as Yoongi pushed against the tight ring of muscle, dipping his thumb inside.

“You think your virgin ass can take it?” he asked.

He moved his thumb out, then in again, slowly. You gulped, eyes still tightly squeezed shut. “I can take it for you.”

He remained silent, and you cracked an eye open to look at him. His cheeks and his upper chest were flushed red, and his gaze dripped with lust for you. You wanted to swim in the lust, to drown in it. No matter what it took.

His thumb slid out, replaced by a finger. A second later, another finger joined, and you let out a breathy sound. Gazes still connected, your mind zeroed in on him fingering your ass, slowly. When he figured you were ready enough, which he probably understood by the breathy sounds and moans falling from your mouth, Yoongi’s digits left you empty. They were soon replaced by the plug that he lightly pressed against the ring of muscle, never pushing in.

“It’s likely to hurt,” he warned you. “You really don’t have to do this.”

“You’d rather me put it in your ass?” you said through gritted teeth.

He bent down, pressing a kiss on your cheek before he straightened again. “I’ve done it countless times before, I’m a lot more used to it than you.”

“Just put it in, Yoongi,” you said, voice low.

He smirked, and when he started pushing in, you clenched your hands in fists, grabbing at the comforter of his bed. He was right – it hurt. But you wanted to show him you could take it, wanted to prove you could, and so you kept the pained whimper in. Kept your gaze connected to his, trying to keep your face neutral too.

It took a moment, and Yoongi had to pull it out a couple of times before he actually managed to get it all the way in, but a few minutes later, the anal plug was fully embedded into you, making you feel full in a whole new way.

“How’s that feel?” he asked, large hands gently caressing your ass.

“Full,” you replied.

He laughed. “I haven’t even started fucking you yet.”

The thought that he was going to fuck you, while you were impaled by his anal plug… it had a moan bubble in your throat, unexpectedly. “Fuck, Yoongi.”

“Should I handcuff you too?”

Now, you needed to regain control. So you straightened, turning towards him. “I’ll cuff you. Lie down.”

He seemed surprised by the new switch in dynamics, but he still complied, lying down on his back as you fished the handcuffs out of his night table. You also grabbed a condom, and then you moved back to his side.

The key to the handcuffs currently was in the lock, and you took it out, eyeing it pensively. “Should I hide this?” you asked, gaze darting to Yoongi.

He gulped, turning his head to the side to regard you. His hair fell on his forehead, and you put the condom down so you could brush it away.

“Just put it on the night table, we don’t want to lose it.”

You tutted, but you still did as told, knowing that it would be a stupid thing to throw it somewhere in the room. You then gently grabbed one of Yoongi’s wrists, cuffing it. As you pulled his arm over his head, he himself brought his other wrist to you, and you imprisoned it too. You made sure it wasn’t too tight, before sitting back on your heels. It made the anal plug move inside of you, and you let out an unexpected moan.

His eyes widened at the sound, and you leaned down to steal a kiss on his lips.

“Now,” you said once you straightened. “Let me put this on.”

You grabbed the foil package, tearing it open to fish the condom out of it. Yoongi was still watching you carefully, awaiting your next move. You grabbed the base of his cock, before lazily stroking it. He gulped, lips parting slightly.

“You think you’re ready?”

He chuckled, glancing down to his dick. “Pretty sure I am.”

You smirked, cocking your head to the side, though you were done being a tease. You wanted to feel him, to have him inside of you. So you rolled the condom on with an expert hand before climbing on his lap. Your hands landed on his chest, and you gently ran them down, along his ribs, and then back up to settle around his neck.

His pretty eyes just watched, and suddenly warmth bubbled inside of you. Not arousal, but really the kind of warmth only looking at a lover can bring out of someone. You stilled, meeting his gaze, and you wondered if he could see the adoration filling your eyes.

He must have, because he said, “I am going to fall so hard for you.”

You bent down, and it was with lips connected that Yoongi pushed inside of you, slowly. It hurt, stretched and burned, with the anal plug, so he was gentle. He was soft, and when he was fully embedded in you, you pulled away. Just enough to meet his gaze, and see the passion lighting up the depths of his pupils.

“Gosh, Yoongi,” you breathed.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

Feelings swelled in your chest. Like wind catching in the sails of a boat, until you felt yourself rushing forward. Towards him, finally meeting him. Finally finding the comfort that was meant to be yours. You kissed him again then, slowly, languidly. Passionately, tracing a melody of love and desire on his lips. One he reciprocated, and his cuffed hands moved until his arms were wrapped around you, trapping you into place.

He slowly fucked up into you, lips never faltering against your mouth. He swallowed every little breathy sounds you let out, grunted on your lips until it seemed passion gained over love, and his pace increased. It increased until he was pounding into you, and it was his turn to grunt and moan against your lips.

You hid your face in the crook of his neck, and he held you tighter, closer, crushing all of you against him. When his movements grew sloppy, you tried to pull away, but his cuffed hands kept you into place.

He chuckled, sucking on your shoulder. “You’re stuck here, baby.”

“I just want to fuck myself on you,” you whined.

He sighed. “I like having you close.”

The way he said it made you bite at his neck. “I want you to fucking come, Yoongi. I want to look you in the eye while you come.”

He moaned, and to your surprise he let you go, hands going back over his head. You straightened, eyes finding his, and his ragged breathing told you enough – he was going to come in no time. So you started moving, up and down, one hand massaging your breast while the other settled on his neck again.

“Faster,” he begged, eyes fluttering shut.

“Look at me,” you commanded.

He hissed, though his gaze found yours. He looked desperate, under you like this, and you smirked, tilting your head to the side. You still started going faster, and soon enough your second hand settled on his shoulder to give you better leverage.

Yoongi was close. You could tell he was struggling to keep his eyes open, mind swimming in ecstasy as his high neared the horizon. You wondered how long he’d fight it – how long he’d keep his sinful gaze on you, just wanting to please you.

He moaned, loud, jaw going slack. Still, you didn’t feel the telltale twitch of his dick inside of you, telling you that he had yet to lose it. So you started choking him, moaning his name when his hips started moving up, meeting yours halfway. The sound of skin slapping on skin became louder, and a second later he cursed, loud and clear. His hands flew towards you, and you grabbed at the chain linking his two wrists, picking up the pace as he released inside of you.

Something about the twitch of his dick had you racing towards another orgasm, and you clenched around him. He probably figured what it meant, because he forced you to lean down, wrapping his cuffed hands around you. Holding you close, he fucked into you, rough. The feeling, combined with the anal plug, had you soaring up to the sky, and you came blindly, vision turning fully white.

He milked your orgasm, as it kept going on and on. You were a moaning mess, and his grunts entwined with your sounds until all that was left was you and him, breathing raggedly. You rested your forehead against his, and he kept you close as you came down from the high that sex with him consisted of.

He pulled out of you when your heart had finally calmed down in your chest, and you pulled away just enough to be able to look him in the eye, his cuffed hands keeping you from moving too far.

“Holy shit,” you said, and he laughed, softly.

“Yeah.” He pulled you down to press a kiss on your lips, before moving his hands over his head once more. “That was amazing.”

“Why did we wait?” you asked.

He laughed again. “I would wait for you for eternity.”

“You’re so cheesy, Min Yoongi,” you teased him, and you bent to peck his nose.

He smiled softly, eyes crinkling at the corners. “I’m just happy.”

“Your happiness is a beautiful sight to see.”

There was a silence, of you gazing at each other. And you thought, you thought if the loneliness was meant to lead to this moment, right now, you’d do it all over again.

Because happiness, it really was a beautiful sight to see.

*****

You watched Yoongi carefully, as he read the lyrics of your song. You had finally managed to finish it, a month into the new year. It led somewhere else than you had first wanted it to, but you thought it was fitting.

You could only hope that he agreed with you.

You blinked as time stretched, with him just reading. You followed his eyes as they skimmed the paper, going back to some line once in a while. You didn’t know if it was because of disapproval, or because he liked your turn of phrase. It was hard to tell, because professional Yoongi was sitting across from you.

Professional Yoongi didn’t let his emotions show on his face.

Holly barked somewhere on your left, startling you. While Yoongi read, you went to the dog, petting it with clammy hands. Because the silence meant nothing good, right? He probably didn’t like the song.

Anxiety was starting to make you spiral when Yoongi said, “Wow.”

Relief flooded through you as you glanced at him. “What do you think?”

“Is this… it’s about us.”

You nibbled at your lower lip. “It is.”

He murmured your name, right as you straightened to walk back to where he was sitting, on the couch. You sat next to him, holding his gaze.

“Never thought I’d be someone’s muse someday.”

You threw him a no-bullshit look. “You are the muse of a lot of people, Yoongi.”

He smirked wickedly. “Am I?”

You said nothing, because really there was nothing to say. He just smiled, that gummy smile of his, and your heart swelled with fondness.

“You’re going to release this?” he asked.

You wet your lips, nodding your head. “I have an idea for a melody, but I thought you… maybe you could help?”

His eyes sparkled. “I have something that could work.”

He grabbed your hand, jumping to his feet to pull you behind him, towards his studio. Halfway up the stairs, you tugged on his hand, trying to gain his attention.

“What?” he asked softly.

“I want to release it with the song.”

He stopped walking, and you almost bumped into him.

“The song song?”

You nodded. “I was thinking of an EP? I have two other songs I used to play when I went busking that I never recorded. I thought, why not record and release everything together?”

His face split into a smile once again, and he pulled you in his chest. You almost fell, and it made the both of you laugh, until you finally started walking up the stairs again.

“It’s a good idea,” he said. “It’s going to be perfect.”

You rolled your eyes, because you doubted that it’d be perfect, but with Yoongi helping you, you knew it’d be good. And good was enough for you. Good was smiles and warmth and the flush of his cheeks whenever you complimented him.

Min Yoongi was good, in all the ways that mattered. He was good to you, and good to the world around him. He was good at what he did, producing a melody for you that resonated with your soul, with the lyrics you had put down on the paper. Lyrics that came back to your mind, as you watched him working on his computer, a focused look on his features.

In the land where no one knows my name

I seek a path that leads to dreams

Bright lights and Heaven’s door

I knock and scream at them, open

In a world where no one knows my name

I can almost hear Heaven’s choirs

You’d think they’d ring true and high

But I think they’re the devil in disguise

They push me out and in the mud

I beg on my knees, they don’t hear me

In the land where no one knows my name

I’m the scraps that you’ve thrown away

They say one day I’ll understand

But I’ll be the one to make the rules now ay

It starts out slowly

Your light and darkness, everything

Success comes and goes, and I

If I make the rules, then I’ll make them bleed

Haters, they think they know

But ignorance is their song

They had me on my knees

Now I watch them beg, scream

I’ll never fucking care for them

In the land where no one knew my name

Now I look down to the world

And I think they live in hell

In the land where no one knew my name

I was no one, I was scraps and mud

The mud’s taken shape now

It screams of your name, more than mine

I was thrown to hell, burned eternity

But I made the rules, right?

If hell is for the lonely people

Then I think we’ve found each other

They brought me down when they could ay

Now I stand tall and proud

Who cares about Heaven, about the choirs

When you stand next to me

They thought they could bring me down

I laugh and say, “Watch them try”

But can they, when I’ve got you

We made the rules and now we reign

Over this hell of lonely people

And heavy is the crown, yeah

But light is the heart,

With you, a thousand eternities

Won’t be enough to bring us down

In the land where no one knew my name

Still you knew it

And isn’t that all that matters?

In the hours of darkness

Down in the mud

You said my name and I looked up

If hell is a lonely place

Then maybe you’re my heaven

And maybe, maybe you had always been meant to love Min Yoongi. Reigning over your little world, with him.

That night, you laid in bed entwined with him, listening to his deep breathing as he slept the night away. Silver light from the moon outside lit up his features, and you took a moment to admire him. To admire his softness, and the flutter of his eyelids whenever he moved in his sleep.

He looked like a prince, regal, eternal, lying next to you like this. His steady breathing was comfort, and his beauty was awe. It was unbelievable that he was yours, that he was to be by your side from now on and until the end.

Loneliness was a distant song, when Min Yoongi was next to you. And you knew he wasn’t to go, not anymore. Because, no matter how unbelievable it was, Yoongi was truly meant to reign over the world, with you.

So now you’d reign.

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

Woooow I hope we enjoyed this! I was really excited to post this after The Forgotten Spaces. What did we think?

Taglist:

@chimchimmarie | @pamzn

2K notes · View notes

colormepurplex2 · 11 months ago

Text

Falling In Love At A Coffee Shop | MYG

▻ Falling In Love At A Coffee Shop ↳ ArtProfessor!Yoongi x Artist/CoffeeShopOwner!f.Reader ⤜ Strangers to Lovers, Cozy Romance ⤜ Coffee Shop/Art AU | fluff, smut ⤜ Rating: MA ⤜ WC: 8,028 ⤜ Summary: It’s like clockwork; you receive the same online order every weekday morning at eight o’clock: large decaf iced Americano, picked up promptly shortly after. His face has become familiar, as a part of your routine as the hiss of the espresso machine. Until, one day, that routine takes an unexpected turn, and you find yourself getting familiar with more than just his face. ⚠️ Very mild language, panic over student/teacher potential date (reader is a student, but she's the same age as Yoongi, just taking classes later in life than most), oral m receiving, fingering, kissing, mild dirty talk, cum swallowing, confessions of the heart

A/N: This is part of my 'Heartbeat Melodies' mini-series, where I write fics that are inspired by songs. If you'd like to hear the song that inspired this, you can find it here! A special thank you to @downbad4yoongi & @moonleeai for their amazing beta services!

Can also be found on: Ao3 | Wattpad

“Large decaf iced Americano,” you call out, barely glancing up from behind the counter.

A deep, familiar drawl pulls your attention, “That would be mine.” It’s only familiar for the fact you’ve heard that voice nearly every day for the last six months.

Your eyes snap up from the tablet, where the next online order has come through, to meet warm brown ones. “I should have known,” you reply before you can think better to bite your tongue. Heat suffuses your cheeks. You pull your lips between your teeth to stifle the groan of embarrassment that begs to be released.

The man chuckles, absently using a knuckle to push up the hornrimmed glasses sitting on the bridge of his nose. “I don’t know if I should be offended or honored by that comment. But, I guess I do come here a lot.”

Nearly every day for the last six months, at least. That’s how often he comes here—to your coffee shop. It’s tiny, barely big enough for a handful of small tables and chairs. But it’s yours, and you’re proud of it.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean for that to seem…” you trail off. Not sure how to finish that thought because you’re not entirely sure how you meant it or why you said it other than the fact you’re a bit frazzled this morning and apparently forgot your mouth filter at home. It was a late night last night for you. It's not an excuse, but still.

He waves a large hand in the air, dismissing your apology. “Please, it’s quite alright. I’ll take it as flattery; could use a little boost to my confidence anyhow.”

That almost makes you sputter in disbelief. There’s absolutely no way this man needs any flattery. Surely, he comes by it in droves. Because, well, he’s honestly so gorgeous it should be criminal.

His hair is fluffy, somewhere between charcoal grey and black, though the warm lighting of your cafe gives it a golden honey halo effect. The eyes behind his black-rimmed glasses are dark swirls of espresso that match his coffee order—a straight nose sitting above soft, pink lips that have a light glossy sheen to them.

As usual, he’s wearing a pressed slack and jacket combo, a cream-colored collared shirt underneath with a bold print tie. His choice of ties is what drew you to him in the first place, and made you pay a little closer attention to the mysterious man behind the large decaf iced Americano.

You clear your throat, daring to be bold, while it seems you’ve no filter to stop you. “Well, if you ever need further flattery, you know where to find me.” It’s clear that you give him an assessing once over, his eyes locked onto yours as you do so.

“Do you paint?”

The question throws you off, nearly making you drop the tablet in your hands. Your fingers flex against the case, your thumb brushing along the glass screen. Busying yourself with reviewing the next order on the screen, you turn, giving him your back as you decide how to answer his random question. You’ve never actually had a conversation with him; this man that you feel like you know yet is a complete stranger.

“Why do you ask?” you deflect as you go through the motions of scooping grinds and swapping out the portafilter for a freshly filled one. However, you know it’s not always polite to answer a question with a question; you’re just not sure how to decipher his curiosity or where it came from to begin with.

The bell above the door rings, and you wince as the espresso machine gurgles and hisses loudly as you mechanically pop a cup in the machine and hit the brew button. The noise fills the quiet space of the coffee shop. It’s not until the cup is filled, you’ve added two lumps of sugar, and you’re grabbing a lid that the man responds.

“There’s paint under your fingernails. Or, at least, what I would guess is paint.”

Glancing down at the cup in your hand, you take in the colorful myriad of flecks coating your skin. The colors fill the grooves of your knuckles and hug around the bed of your nails.

“Double espresso with two sugars,” you announce, ripping your gaze from your hand to the interior space of your cafe. A woman steps around the man, giving you a hurried smile as she holds out her hand to receive the cup. You hand it off. “Have a good day.”

Giving the cafe's inside a quick glance, you ensure all the customers within are taken care of. A college student is busy pounding away at their laptop keyboard in the corner, utilizing your free wifi. A half-empty cup of hot cocoa sits cold and abandoned beside them. A trio of friends sit at your only table big enough to seat more than two people, laughing softly and sipping hot lattes and teas. No one seems to need your attention; except the man still standing there, large decaf iced Americano in hand.

You lick your lips, a nervous habit you picked up after endless stressful nights pouring your heart, soul, blood, sweat, and tears into opening the small cafe. Most believed it would flop; others rallied to your side and helped your dream come true.

“Look, sorry if I’ve overstepped somehow,” he begins, but you shake your head, letting him know he’s not.

Gesturing at the wall behind the man, you finally answer, “In my spare time.”

He glances over his shoulder, eyes zigzagging across the giant unfinished mural covering the windowless back wall of the cafe.

“That?” he asks. “You’re painting that?”

It’s hard to decipher if that’s disbelief or awe coloring his voice.

“I am,” you answer a bit hesitantly.

“Wow!” he exclaims, a giant grin spreading across his face, crinkling his eyes at the corners. “I’ve been meaning to ask after the artist every time I come in and see something new added, I just uh,” he brings his free hand up and rubs it across the back of his neck, eyes dropping to the floor under his feet, “well, could never bring myself to.” It’s pretty, the way his cheeks take on a flush of color as his eyes cut to you from over the frame of his glasses. “It’s wonderful work.”

“Thank you.” You can’t help your own flush of shyness at his praise.

“So, uh,” he lifts his cup and gives it a swirl, the ice sloshing around inside, before taking a small sip through the straw, “I know you probably see it on the order, but for the sake of propriety, my name’s Yoongi.”

Min Yoongi, to be more precise, you know. It’s a name you’ve read so many times it’s ingrained in your mind. However, it’s still nice for him to offer it to you. Willingly establishing your connection one step further than his coffee order.

You feel so silly tapping the name tag on the front of your apron, but you do it before you can think better of it, mumbling your name as if he can’t read it for himself after you brought direct attention to it. “Sorry, I’m not normally so weird,” you give a shaky laugh, willing yourself to shut up before you chase him off from how awkward you’re being.

Something changes in his demeanor, his eyes taking on a light twinkle that sits somewhere between mischief and wonder. “I like weird,” he offers casually as if that doesn’t make your stomach swoop and your heart beat a little harder. “Maybe we can talk more about your art sometime. Maybe over dinner? Or lunch if dinner is too forward.”

If you were a cartoon, you’re confident your tongue would actually be tied into a jumbled knot right now with you frantically trying to talk around it, a comical scene for sure. Yet, there is no knot, just a thick feeling that you have to swallow past. “Um, yeah, sure. That would be great. Dinner…or uh, lunch. Both. Either one. Though, dinner might be better considering my hours.”

Yoongi glances at the vinyl hours printed on the front window by the door. They’re backward from his vantage point, but you assume he has no issue reading them, considering he turns back to you and asks, “How does seven work for you?”

“Tonight?” The beating of your heart lurches again, and you can barely hear him over the rushing in your ears.

“Yeah, if that’s not too soon. Perhaps next week, if that’s better? I don’t want to come on too strong. Or well, rather, what I mean to say is, don’t feel pressured.” You can tell he’s feeling hesitant now, trying to backtrack and offer you a way to politely decline his offer for dinner tonight. You didn’t mean to come off sounding so put out. You just weren’t expecting his request to be for tonight.

Mentally, you dig through your schedule. You’re not closing today. Marvin comes in at noon to help with the lunch rush, and then you leave at four to make it to your five o’clock class. It would be today of all days that your new art class starts. It’s the beginning of the fall semester at the local university, and you just so happened to decide to take a few art classes they were offering, the first of which starts tonight.

The class should only be around an hour long, with plenty of time to get home and change before the date. Is it a date? Or just strangers getting together to talk about art? Isn’t that what a date is anyway, though?

“Seven. Tonight. That would be great.”

“Okay, perfect. Can I pick you up? Or we can meet here if that works better.”

It’s endearing he’d offer, both picking you up and meeting in a familiar place. Considering you live above the coffee shop, though, it makes no difference. Though, he doesn’t necessarily know that.

“Here is fine.”

“Wonderful. Have you tried that steak house on the corner yet?”

“The new one that opened last week?” He nods. “I haven’t, no.”

“Perfect.” Yoongi smiles. “Here, at seven. Consider it a date.” His smile falters, and his brows pinch, forming a line between them. “Not that I…well, it’s not that…it doesn’t have to be…if you don’t want this to be a date, that’s—”

“It’s a date,” you confirm, giving him what you hope to be a warm smile to ease his mild panic. “I’ll see you then, Yoongi.”

“See you then,” he responds, tacking your name on at the end in his deep drawl. The way it sounds coming from his mouth should be added to one of those spicy erotica audiobooks you may or may not have downloaded on your phone.

Just as Yoongi is leaving, it’s like the world finally takes a breath, and the exhalation that follows brings with it a rush of early morning commuters seeking their morning fix. The everyday bustle and hubbub of the day filter back in, and you’re soon lost to the sway of the shop, coffee, tea, and cocoa. It all comes alive beneath your nimble fingers, much reminiscent of the way holding a brush makes you feel: a thrill of the soul with each pour.

☕☕☕

Yoongi

In all Yoongi’s years of teaching, he’s never been late to a class, especially on the first day of the semester. Yet, he’s nearly fifteen minutes late getting into his classroom this morning. Students are already filled in and scattered around the theatre-style seating. No one says anything. It’s far too early in the morning for smart mouths and snarky remarks about his tardiness. Not that he would expect that from any of the students anyway.

“Good morning, welcome to Art 320. I’m Professor Min.” He drops his bag and coffee off on his podium at the front of the classroom. Turning to the large chalkboard behind it, he scrawls his name to the side and then begins to write directions. “We will begin with Chapter 1, ‘Mediums and Forms’, in your textbook. Please read quietly, and I’ll be with you all in a moment.”

The day goes on, class after class, and the familiar monotony of it brings Yoongi a sense of peace. This is familiar territory; he’s in his element, not like this morning in the coffee shop. He felt totally out of control and swept up in the swirl of uncertainties and possibilities.

To say he’s relieved you agreed to go to dinner with him would be an understatement. From the moment he decided to change up his routine to check out the cafe Namjoon wouldn’t shut up about, he’s been hooked not only on the impeccable decaf iced Americano, nor the beautifully decorated and painted interior but on the smiling face behind the counter.

Yoongi feels a bit self-conscious thinking about how much he thinks about you. He’s always been too intimidated by the idea of speaking more than a few passing words to you. It’s like every time he gathered up the courage, it would abandon him at the last moment. Namjoon calls it a crush, Yoongi calls it frustrating.

The whole conversation this morning is a bit of a blur to him. Yoongi swears once he opened his mouth it was nearly impossible to stop the word vomit from gushing out…and the next thing he knew, you were agreeing to a date with him tonight.

The day's last class rolls around, and Yoongi feels much lighter as he steps out of his adjoining office and into the classroom to welcome the new students. A few offer him quiet hello’s, some he’s seen from other art classes he’s monitored across the entire department and fine arts program.

Turning his back as the last few students filter in, he makes the same spiel he has at the beginning of every class. “Good morning, welcome to Art 320. I’m Professor Min…”

And so it begins, the beautiful dance of teaching and introducing fresh minds to the concept of forms and mediums. Yoongi is sure he could recite the entirety of Chapter 1 from memory now, with as many times as he’s gone over it today.

“What if you decide you don’t like your form or medium halfway through the project?” a student from the front row asks after Yoongi explains the medium and forms requisite for the final project for this class.

“We’re going to spend plenty of time during the first part of the semester testing out different mediums to know which best suits each of your individual tastes and needs. Regarding the form, I recommend choosing something you most likely won’t tire of. Something that means something to you but also isn’t so complex that you frustrate yourself and burn out before you can complete the project. You’re welcome to, at any time, bring me an idea of the form you’re considering, and we can talk about the intricacies and any potential issues that might arise with using it.”

Another question comes from somewhere in the middle, “Can we choose people, too?”

“A form can be anything that inspires you. If that happens to be a person, then of course. However, note that portraiture isn’t covered until Art 322, but I’ll do my best to help if that’s what you choose.” Yoongi glances at the clock, noticing there are only a few minutes left of class. “Let’s take the last few minutes to wind down, pack your things. If you have any further questions concerning your final project forms and mediums, please don’t hesitate to email me. Also, my office hours are open Tuesdays and Thursdays from two to six.”

As Yoongi turns to begin putting his things away from his podium, his eyes slide across the faces of his last class students, trying to cram them into his mind for the sake of remembering. He always likes to be as personable and approachable to his students as possible; knowing names and faces is always a good place to start.

He has to do a double take as his eyes flick over the very top row. The shock is felt throughout his entire body. It’s not that he’s surprised to see a face he already knows. It’s just that he wasn’t expecting it…wasn’t expecting to see you. Mild panic makes him jerk around, hands gripping at the papers on his podium, shuffling them mechanically.

The first thought that crosses his mind is he can’t possibly be going on a date with one of his students. Surely you’re just here to…to what? He turns over one of the papers, quickly scanning his roster that he hadn’t bothered to check yet. It doesn’t take long for his eyes to snag on your name.

Unease settles across his shoulders. He hates to cancel the date, as he was really looking forward to it, but it’s just…not right, right? There’s a line he shouldn’t cross with his students, even one who he is sure is his age and not the typical college freshman. Yoongi knows this because maybe, perhaps, he might have spent his lunch hour googling you and the cafe. You’re in your early thirties, given the birth year that was viewable on one of your social media pages, and own the coffee shop, have for several years now…a full-ass grown adult—the perfect person to date.

Except now you’re his student. There’s some moral code there somewhere, something about the skewed power dynamic. The thought of going on this date should have red flags flashing in his mind. Yet…yet, no matter how much he tells himself to cancel, he honestly doesn’t want to. Surely, it wouldn’t hurt that much, right? A harmless date.

That’s what he’s still telling himself as he dismisses the class a few minutes later. He intentionally avoided looking in your direction, unsure if you’d be comfortable with him acknowledging you as one of his students or not.

Much to his surprise, as the bubble of sound dissipates, a soft voice reaches his ears from a few feet behind him, “Fancy meeting you here.”

Yoongi has been so consumed with his own feelings about going on a date with a student that he hasn’t even thought about how you might feel. Are you about to cancel on him? Does he try to convince you not to?

He slowly turns, the stack of papers clutched in his hands, glasses slipping down his nose, yet he doesn’t want to pry his fingers from the bundle to fix them. “Look, I understand if you’d rather not—”

“I’m fine as long as you are.”

He’s relieved for your interruption, for keeping him from saying those words out loud. “Are you sure? If I had known this morning that you’d be one of my students…” he trails off, because he’s not so sure that would have stopped him after all. Considering he’s wanted to ask you out for at least the last four months.

“I’m glad you asked me. Student or not. I promise not to make it weird if you don’t.” You give him a brilliant smile, coy and full of mirth but light enough to make his heart jerk inside his chest.

“No weirdness, got it,” he agrees, unable to help his own teasing smile.

“So, I’ll see you then?” you ask, hefting your canvas bag on your shoulder. His eyes flick to it, noting the splashes and swirls of fabric paint that cover the outside. Yoongi wonders if you painted it yourself.

He nods, letting his eyes drink you in one last time before you turn to go. You’re still wearing the same jeans and thin cable knit sweater from the coffee shop this morning. Even in such casual clothes, you are stunning. A work of art all your own. He doesn’t stop staring until the door to his classroom shuts behind you.

“Fuck,” he curses under his breath. It’s not out of irritation or anger, just an acknowledgement of how truly and utterly he’s got it down bad for you.

☕☕☕

Seven can’t come soon enough. It only took you thirty minutes to get ready, putting on a simple black dress and flats. It’s not too fancy, but it makes you feel far more put together than just jeans and a t-shirt.

At five til, you make your way down into the coffee shop from your upstairs apartment. All of the main overhead lights are off, leaving only the warm accent lights that line the menu board and the display case lights on. Even now, the space smells delightedly of coffee.

It’s kind of funny, the fact that you’re not a coffee drinker. Everyone finds it odd that someone who doesn’t drink coffee would aspire to open a coffee shop. What they fail to realize is you love the smell of coffee. The warm, roasted, mildly sweet notes are what you thrive on, better than any shot of espresso in your mind.

There is a street lamp right outside your shop, flooding the sidewalk with a pool of yellow light. Standing just within the glow is Yoongi, his back to the shop door. You watch as his head swivels, looking down both directions of the sidewalk, completely unaware that you’ll be coming from behind him instead.

The sound of the lock turning over startles him. He jerks around and laughs softly, taking a step back, hand to his chest, as you pull the door open. “Can’t say I expected you to come from inside the cafe.”

“I would have been down sooner had I known you would be a bit early,” you say, locking the door behind you. “I probably should have given you my number or something.”

Yoongi eyes you, his gaze sliding up and down your body like he’s drinking you in. You hope he likes what he sees. “I think I was so excited about the date that I forgot even to ask,” he admits, giving you a sheepish smile when his eyes finally land back on yours. “You look,” —he gives you another quick once over, shaking his head and sinking his teeth into his bottom lip— “gorgeous.”

“Thank you,” you preen under his praise. “You look quite handsome, yourself.”

You’re not just saying that to return the compliment, either. Yoongi is wearing the same thing he was this morning, except the tie is loosened, and the top button of his shirt is undone, giving you the slightest peek at his prominent jugular notch.

“Shall we?” he asks, offering you his arm.

You slip your hand into the bend of his elbow, falling into step beside him. The walk to the steak house is short, just enough for pleasant exchanges. He asks how your day at the coffee shop went, and you ask after his first day of classes. Neither of you bring up the fact that you were part of one of those classes.

“I’ve been meaning to check this place out. I’ve heard excellent things.”

Yoongi hums, nodding his head at your words. “I’ve also heard good things, though it might perhaps be biased considering all the praise I’ve heard has come from the owner himself.”

“You’ve spoken with the owner?”

“He’s one of my best friends, actually. This will be the first time I try it out. I kept telling him I’d stop by, but it always got away from me.”

You can’t help the laugh that bubbles up. “I can’t believe you know Seokjin.”

“Wait, you know Seokjin?” Yoongi asks, surprised.

“I’d say know is a relative term. We get deliveries from the same produce truck. He tried to take my apples one time. I had to set him straight.” That makes Yoongi laugh along with you. “We chat sometimes, mostly about the quality of produce and the best places to get ingredients. I had no idea he was your friend.”

“Small world,” Yoongi says. His smile is warm and inviting. You’re sure you could get lost in it if he’d let you. It makes you wonder what his lips taste like. They have a slight sheen to them like they did this morning. Cherry chapstick? Maybe mint? A nice subtle vanilla?

You’re not sure the last time you laughed so hard you had tears in your eyes. But Yoongi has your sides in stitches and your cheeks aching from smiling and laughing so much during dinner.

“Oh gosh,” you wheeze between fits of giggling, clutching your stomach. “Ow, ow. Don’t make me laugh again. I can’t take it.” It just makes you laugh even more, the huffs trailing off as Yoongi reaches across the table toward you.

You pry your hands from your abdomen and slide them into his. His fingers are warm against yours, his thumbs rubbing across the backs of your knuckles. It’s a gesture he’s done several times tonight, silently asking for your hands any chance he could.

“Sorry, you just have such a beautiful laugh,” he says. “I could listen to it all day.”

His flattery hasn’t stopped. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think the two glasses of wine he had with dinner were going to his head. But, he speaks so assuredly and looks in your eyes like you’re truly something special.

Feeling so intimately connected with someone you barely know might be absurd. Yet, you can’t help but feel drawn to him. If you’re being honest, the attraction started long ago, and tonight has just made it blossom into something so much more.

Yoongi has been the perfect gentleman. He’s not tried to railroad the conversation or make decisions for you like other guys you’ve gone on dates with. Whenever a server approached the table, he would defer to you and your needs before his.

“You’ve been so wonderful to me tonight. Please let me repay you with coffee and dessert. If you’re up for it.”

Yoongi squeezes both your hands before letting them go and sitting back in his chair. “There is no need to ‘repay’ me,” he says, emphasizing the word repay. “But, I wouldn’t say no to a date after this date, say in fifteen minutes, coffee and dessert?”

“Fifteen minutes? Coffee and dessert?” You give him a thoughtful look, tapping your fingers against your chin. “Hmm. I think I’m available.” You both break into more fits of soft laughter, contrasting so highly to the high energy from before; it’s intimate, if laughing can be such a thing.

It’s easy being with Yoongi; he’s attentive and curious. “What made you want to open a coffee shop?” he asks as you unlock the door to the cafe.

“I liked the idea of having a space that could cater to people from all walks of life. Businessmen in a hurry? Get it to go. Students needing a place to study? I have a quiet corner for that. College professor looking for his daily decaf Americao fix? Would you look at that? I got that covered, too.” You usher him inside, closing and locking the door behind you. “It also doubles as a great place to have a private coffee and dessert date after a lovely dinner date.”

You watch as Yoongi looks around the cozy space, his attention ending on the mural wall. “What’s your favorite kind of coffee?”

“Would it be weird if I said I don’t like coffee?” you ask.

He glances at you from over his shoulder. “Really?”

You shrug. “I love the way it smells, though.”

“Acrylic?” Yoongi asks, nodding toward the mural.

“Good eye,” you assess, stepping behind the counter to start making the coffee. You grab two pecan cinnamon twirls from the dry storage where you keep extra treats to take up to your apartment at the end of each shift and pop them into the small convection oven along the back wall. “You teach art, but it might be presumptuous of me to assume you also create. So, do you?”

“Not nearly as much as I’d like to. Pastels and charcoal are my favorites to work with. I like the mildly messy, chaotic feel of them. There are few things better than the feeling of taking something so uncontrolled and turning it into a thing of beauty.”

“Charcoal, huh?” Your mind instantly goes to the framed collection of pieces you have in your apartment upstairs. “I can appreciate that.”

“Maybe I can show you sometime.” Yoongi turns from his appreciation of your mural to watch you work behind the counter. He gestures to a few frames hung up on either side of the giant menu on the wall. “Arfé, right?”

You glance up, moving with automated motions to load the portafilter into the espresso machine. “Oh,” you laugh. “Yeah. An experiment. I wanted to try something new and needed some new decor. I thought it was appropriately on theme.”

The half-dozen pieces are all made with swirls of various shades in brown and tan and depict a mix of cups, mugs, bags of grinds, lumps of sugar, and piles of roasted coffee beans.

“Very appropriate. They’re lovely. You’re an exceptional artist.” You’ve lost count of the amount of compliments Yoongi has paid you tonight. You might have been the one flattering him this morning, but it seems he’s making up for that now.

“Thank you. Truly. That means a lot coming from you.” The hiss of the brew machine fills the air, and the soft gurgle of espresso trickling into the small mug follows. “One decaf Americano for one of my best customers,” you say, carefully carrying the steaming cup over to a table beside Yoongi. “Please, sit.”

Yoongi settles at the table, bringing the cup of coffee up to his nose and giving it an appreciative sniff. “Wonderful,” he murmurs before taking a tentative sip. “Thank you, that hits the spot.”

“If you think the Americano is good, wait until you try this,” you say, scooping the twirls out of the oven and onto a plate. They’re perfectly warm and gooey. “You’ve never tried any of our pastries, have you?”

You sit across from him. The table is small enough that you could reach out and cup his cheek if you wanted, and set the plate on the table before Yoongi. He whistles low, “Wow, these do look amazing. Maybe I’ll become a pecan twirl and coffee guy every morning instead.”

Your eyes track his movements, watching as his fingers pinch and slightly sink into the edges of one of the twirls. Some of the warm glaze and cinnamon sugar filling squishes from between the layers.

Yoongi’s lips part and the tip of his tongue peaks over his bottom teeth as he brings the pastry up to take a bite. The moan he lets out surprises you both. His eyes flutter before landing on you and going wide. He chews methodically, his gaze not leaving yours. His tongue darts out, swiping over his lips before he swallows.

“Well?” you ask, settling your elbows on the table and leaning into him, expectant.

The smile that tugs at his lips is coy. “Might be one of the best things I’ve ever put in my mouth.” There is a heat in his gaze as his eyes search yours. “What other surprises do you have up your proverbial sleeve for me?”

“Now, if I told you, they wouldn’t be surprises anymore, would they?”

That makes him laugh. “Fair point. You know,” he glances around the coffee shop, “I never knew just what it was about this coffee shop I loved so much, but I think I’ve figured it out.”

“Yeah?” you say, feeling positively giddy.

“Mhm. So,” he mirrors your pose across the table, his elbows nearly touching your own, fingers toying with yours where they’re folded in the air in front of your face, “is it too soon to ask you on a second date?”

“I thought this was our second date.” You raise a teasing eyebrow, a smile quirking on your lips.

“A third then,” he offers, eyes hopeful.

Of course, you want to say yes. And in the spirit of trying to be coy and playful, you lean in with the full intent of showing him instead of telling him how much you want to go on another date.

Yoongi’s eyes flicker to your lips, watching as you deliberately lick them as you lean in a bit closer. Acceptance lies within their dark depths, a flash of hunger at the impending response that’s only a breath away.

As you advance, your elbows slide on the table, accidentally knocking the coffee cup. Liquid goes everywhere; it floods over the table and pours off the side…right into Yoongi’s lap.

“Oh fuck!” you yell, jumping up from the table and rushing around to his side. “I’m so sorry! Are you okay? Do I need to call an ambulance? Does it burn?”

Yoongi pushes back from the table, holding his arms up off his lap as he assesses the mess. “No harm done. It was already cooled off. It's just a bit of a mess, that’s all. I’m fine,” he laughs. “Truly, I promise. Do you have any towels or anything?”

“Oh god, your shirt, it’s going to stain,” you lament, staring at the dark splotch soaking through above his trousers. “Towels? Yes. Yes. Okay. And some baking soda. Come on, let’s hurry. Again, I’m so sorry!”

“Should we clean this up first?” he asks, motioning at the coffee-covered floor.

“I can mop in the morning. Please,” you fret, guilt making you a bit frantic and flustered.

Yoongi lets you lead him up the stairs in the back that go to your apartment. “You live here?” he questions. “No wonder you were coming out of the coffee shop earlier. That’s very cool.”

You make a noncommittal sound. “It’s cool if you like the smell of coffee and don’t mind rising early every day to open shop.”

It’s so hard to think right now, your mind solely focused on cleaning up the mess you’ve made of Yoongi’s clothes. That’s what you get for trying to be sly and answer his date question with a kiss. You’ll be lucky if he still wants that date now, surely.

The bathroom is barely big enough for the two of you. You insist Yoongi sit on the lip of the tub while you dig under the sink for the baking soda that you use for cleaning and removing your own coffee stains.

“Hey,” Yoongi says softly, grabbing your attention. You glance at him over your shoulder, bottom lip clamped between your teeth in an effort not to fall apart entirely. “I promise it’s okay, alright? You don’t have to stress over it. It’s just an accident. It's a pretty funny one if you ask me. If I’d have known we were getting wet on the first—I mean, second date, I would have planned accordingly.”

His words hang between you, full of static and charged with intention. He’s trying to lighten the mood…and it’s working. It’s also making you feel a certain kind of way. Words shouldn’t have the power to do that. Yet, here you are, flustered for a whole different reason now.

“Date’s not over yet,” you respond, unsure where the bold attitude came from, but you’ll take it. His eyes flicker with something like surprise mixed with desire, though it’s gone before you can really be sure. “Do you mind?” You gesture to his shirt. “It’ll be easier if I can soak it in the sink.”

Slowly, Yoongi undoes the buttons on his shirt, starting at the top and working his way down. Somehow, you weren’t expecting him to be naked underneath, but every open button reveals another swath of flesh. He shrugs out of the shirt, revealing a toned chest and taut belly. His nipples are hard, dark chips, standing out in contrast to his smooth, creamy skin. Yoongi is absolutely breathtaking.

In fact, you have to remind yourself to breathe, taking in a large lungful of air that’s so much it makes your chest ache. He holds the shirt out to you in offering. Your fingers tremble lightly as you take it, quickly turning back to the sink and the distraction of scrubbing at the stain.

Reading over the garment tag quickly, you make sure what you��re about to do is okay. You can feel Yoongi’s eyes on your back, like heated dagger points pricking beneath your skin. You turn on the water, letting the tap run until it’s hot, before quickly swishing the area of the shirt covered in coffee under it. The hot water alone makes a world of difference, the dark liquid swirling away down the drain.

“Do you want my pants, too?” Yoongi asks, startling you.

Your eyes flick up to the mirror, looking at him through the reflection. He’s talking to you, but his attention is zeroed in on your backside. Suddenly, you’re intimately aware that your dress has ridden up dangerously high. You can feel the cool air of the bathroom kissing the crease between your thigh and asscheek.

Turning off the water, you slowly turn to face him. Your chest rises and falls as you try to take deep, even breaths, but with the way your heart is revving inside, it’s impossible to do so. “Let’s see the damage,” you say lightly, raising an eyebrow in question, giving him a chance to call you off.

When he doesn’t comment further, you close the distance to where he’s sitting and ease down onto your knees. You mentally tell yourself it’s so you can get a better look at the coffee that’s saturating the dark fabric, but you know better than that.

Being so close to him, you can feel the heat of his body. His chest rises and falls as rapidly as yours, and when you look up and meet his gaze, there is no mistaking the fire that you see blazing there. “Don’t think I forgot you still haven’t answered my question,” he murmurs, lips barely moving as he watches you.

You lift a hand, hooking your index finger under his chin and using it to angle his face toward yours. “I’d love that,” you respond, your lips brushing over his with every syllable.

He kisses you. Or maybe you kiss him. It’ll be something you tease each other over for many years to come. You open yourself to him, welcoming the glide of his tongue against yours. The kiss tastes mildly of coffee, yet for the first time in your life, you don’t mind the flavor.

“For me to take my pants off, or the date?” he teases, alternating between nipping and consuming kisses. Yoongi’s hands frame your face, holding you to him as he continues to ravage your mouth.

“Mm, both,” you manage to get out. “Definitely both.” Sliding your hands down his torso, you marvel at the softness of his skin and the already very prominent bulge that your fingers dance over as you try to get a grip on the button to his slacks.

Yoongi breaks away from the kiss long enough to help you with his pants, standing up from the edge of the tub and bringing you up with him. He toes off his shoes, leaving his pants puddled on top of them. “Good answer,” he chuckles.

You let out a tiny squeal as he wraps his hands around the backs of your thighs and hauls you up, your legs automatically winding around his waist. Thick erection pressed right against your panty-covered pussy, he slowly walks you out of the bathroom and into your adjoining room. You land on the bed with a soft oomph, Yoongi following you down. His weight is a comfort, settled over your body in a warm, hedonistic embrace.

“I’ll change classes,” you pant, flexing your hips against his. “As long as our next date is to an art gallery.”

“Is it weird for that to turn me on?” he responds, groaning as you roll your hips against him again. “The art part, not the dropping classes part. You don’t have to do that if it’s too much trouble. I know your schedule must be pretty set with the cafe.”

You press your hands against his chest, giving him a gentle push until he’s rolling over and you’re hovering over him. “I’ll make it work. I want to make it work. Everything tonight,” you pause and sit back on your heels, dragging your hands along his torso as you do, “I want more. You’re driving me crazy in the best of ways.”

“Says the woman who’s been running through my thoughts for the last several months now.” Yoongi’s lips part in a gasp, turning his last word into a breathly plea as you trace the tips of your fingers over his straining erection. The fabric of his grey boxer briefs is slightly sticky when you brush your thumb over the head.

“It reminds me of making art,” you casually say, curling your fingers over the waistband of his underwear and tugging until he lifts his hips and lets you drag them down. You toss them to the side, marveling at the glory now resting against his belly. Yoongi’s cock is a gentle upward curve, all smooth steel and thick veins. It throbs, bouncing against his stomach, leaving behind a thick smear of precum. “The way you make me feel.”

“Art?” he asks, breathless. His eyes flutter behind his glasses, his chest hollowing as he sucks in ragged breaths.

“Being with you gives me the same feeling as viewing a Duncanson or a Matisse, calm and full of joy. Though, you can also make me feel the chaos of a Kandinsky when you touch me.” To emphasize your words, you wrap your fingers around his girth, angling it up, watching the emotions on his face. The tip of his tongue works at the corner of his mouth, lips parted with every pant and soft moan. “Is this okay?” you ask, leaning down and gently blowing over the leaking tip before tentatively giving it a kitten lick.

“More than,” Yoongi moans. His eye slide closed as you wrap your lips around the head and suck. The flavor of him bursts across your tongue. You can’t help but moan yourself at the idea you’ve made him like this, hard and leaking.

Working as much of his cock into your mouth as you can, you delight in the shuddering convulses you can feel from his body as he loses himself in the sensations you’re bringing him. Yoongi always seems like such a collected individual. He still appeared so well-kept even when he stuttered over his words asking you on the date this morning. Now, though, he’s unraveling into a puddle of debauchery.

It’s a satisfying feeling, similar to when you get into a perfect rhythm when working on a project, bringing him to the edge. You work your mouth and hand in tandem, never leaving an inch of his cock free of your touch.

“Mmm,” you moan, the head of his cock resting in the back of your throat. Yoongi jerks under you, half raising onto his elbows, his eyes zeroing in on where you’re wrapped around him.

His fingers twist into the duvet, bottom lip puffy and flushed as he worries it with his teeth. “I’m going to cum,” he grunts, throwing his head back and moaning his pleasures, deep and throaty.

You quicken your pace, hollowing your cheeks as you suck in earnest. Yoongi cries out a second before liquid warmth floods your mouth. It’s greedy, the way you swallow and continue to lave your tongue over him, eliciting tiny tremors and more moans.

“Just like art,” you whisper, finally letting his cock slip from between your lips. You’re riding your own high, wet and throbbing between your thighs. You can feel the ache in your clit, begging to be touched. All it would take is a few seconds, a few well-placed swirls of your fingers, and you know you’d be floating in orgasmic bliss.

Before you can even think of bringing your hand between your thighs to find relief, Yoongi is sitting up and urging you backward. Your back hits the mattress, and he settles on his side beside you. Somewhere between there and here, he pulled off his glasses. Despite having just found his release, his eyes are still so full of hunger and desire.

“May I?” he asks, pressing a hand against your inner thigh. You nod, eyes locked with his as he slowly trails his hand upward until his fingers brush over the soaked fabric of your panties. “You are so beautiful,” he whispers, leaning in to capture your mouth in a languid kiss. Your lids flutter closed, consumed as you are by his touch.

Yoongi takes his time, toying with the edge of your panties before tugging them down past your knees. They pool around your ankles as he pushes your thighs apart, exposing your weeping pussy to the air of the bedroom.

“Yoongi.” His name is half moan, half curse as he brings his hand back up and cups your heat. The meat of his palm rests against your clit, right where you need to be touched, but the pressure isn’t enough to satisfy.

“An exquisite work of art.” His lips strum against yours, plucking and teasing just the way his fingers do through your wetness. The tips of his fingers briefly kiss your clit, dancing away before returning; a slow build of decadent pleasure.

It’s not above you to beg. “Please. Yoongi, please!”

“Open your eyes, look at me. Let me watch you fall apart so I can brand it into my memory.”

You snap open your eyes the exact moment he slides two slender fingers into your pussy, thumb finally giving the needed pressure to your clit. You’re so worked up that your body pulses around the intrusion, a tiny fluttering orgasm rippling through you.

“Fuck,” you whimper.

Yoongi gives you a wicked, knowing smile. “It’s not over yet, beautiful,” he assures you in a whispered promise.

His fingers are long, able to reach the perfect, special place inside you. As he strokes his fingertips, moving them in an undulating wave, his thumb swirls in a circle around your clit.

The next orgasm is less surprising, building to a heightened peak that has you crying out as you careen over the edge, entirely at Yoongi’s mercy. “Yoongi, fuck!” you babble, your whole body alive with sensations of pleasure.

“That’s it,” he coaxes. “So beautiful.”

Your body shudders around his hand, his fingers slowing down their rhythm until you finally recover. The slide of his fingers along your walls as he withdraws makes you wish he’d put them back in…or maybe something else. The bereft feeling lasts only a moment before Yoongi gathers you into his arms. He’s completely naked, and you’re still wearing your dress, but you feel just as exposed as he is…only, it’s your soul on display for him instead of your body.

You wait for the feeling of vulnerability to filter in, that broken feeling of uncertainty. But, it doesn’t come. The only thing you feel is complete and utter content. It’s not even the post-orgasmic bliss that’s clouding it, either. No, there’s plenty of that, but it feels different; he feels different.

“Yoongi,” you begin, resting your cheek on his chest. You want to confess to him, but the words get choked in your throat. Is it too soon? Are you completely crazy? What if he doesn’t feel the same way? Fuck. Here goes nothing. “This feels good, really good. Is it too soon to say…?”

“Too soon to say?” he prompts.

You absently trace haphazard swirls and lines across his chest, trying to think of how to word it. “I, well…”

“Too soon to say that I think possibly, maybe, I’m falling for you?” You look up at him, surprised by his words. Yoongi looks at you with so much warmth and affection in his eyes. “Because that’s exactly how I feel, too.”

#min yoongi #yoongi x reader #yoongi smut #yoongi imagines #coffeeshop au #yoongi fanfic #yoongi fanfiction #bts yoongi #professor yoongi #bts fanfic #bts smut #bts angst #bts imagines #micdropnet #bangtanwhq

606 notes · View notes

glossdebut · 16 days ago

Text

PRICE OF FAME | MYG ★ 01

✧ PAIRING: yoongi x fem!reader

✧ SERIES SUMMARY: You were about ready to give up, your career nowhere near what you dreamed it’d be when you started at eighteen, bright-eyed and naive. Reality for you these past few years has consisted of pouting at a camera, ignoring whispers of your name at company events, and ensuring that the stupid, tiny designer purses they keep forcing on you can at least carry a flask. But now, you’re helping a friend in need. For the first time in a long time, it feels like you’re doing something worthwhile with your life. Too bad Min Yoongi, the newest thorn in your side, seems insistent on stopping you.

✧ SERIES TAGS: enemies to lovers, slow burn, angst, smut, fake/pretend relationship (not main couple), rockstar!yoongi, model!reader, guitarist yoongi, singer jungkook, bassist taehyung, drummer jimin, manager namjoon, yoongi & maknae line are in a rock band, reader & seokjin are best friends, yoongi & hoseok are best friends (sope duo ftw), yoongi has a tongue piercing, reader is a brat

✧ CHAPTER WARNINGS: recreational drinking, yoongi is an asshole (see series masterlist for series warnings)

✧ CHAPTER WORDCOUNT: 6.1k words

✧ AUTHOR’S NOTE: NEW ERA NEW ERA NEW ERA! whew!!! i’m excited for this one! this is going to be a loooong ride, so buckle up and enjoy! please note the slow burn tag on this one, because i’m not joking around with it. trust me, it’s going to hurt me just as much as it hurts you.

a HUGE thank you to tanni @yooniivrse for continuing to beta read for me <3 your commentary never fails to make me laugh and your edits save my life.

P.S. everything i know about the korean music industry is informed by my years as a kpop fan. i don’t know much about the rock scene there, so expect inaccuracies galore going forward. i do my due diligence where i can, but that can only help so much.

CH. 01: ALL YOU PEOPLE ARE VAMPIRES!

You aren’t entirely sure when you stopped feeling at home in places like this. There has to be some kind of defining event, some kind of indicator of The Before and The After, but every time you try and figure it out you come up short.

In The Before, not all that long ago, you would be scrounging for the bus fare rattling around in your pockets to get to a place like this as soon as you punched out from your shift at the Speedy Mart.

During your short stint in college, your friends didn’t understand your obsession. Music venues, to them, were fun for a weekend’s night out. The thrill of flashing a fake ID, of flirting with the musicians after their set, of getting said musicians to buy them drinks—it was a satisfying rebellion, a fun story to tell people at school and hide from their parents.

But you were there every day, even after classes and graveyard shifts under fluorescent lights, always racing to the nearest show without even changing out of your polo. It was never a rebellion to you. The lights, the thumping bass, the secondhand smoke—it made every nerve ending in your body light up.

You were born in this smoke, as far as you’re concerned.

Maybe it’s different now because it’s work to be here. But what isn’t work, these days? Your life is micromanaged down to the minutiae—the meals you eat, the products you use in your hair, your goddamn piss breaks. There’s no clocking out for you, no gasp of relief that comes after. Such is life for one of Seoul’s many playthings.

Even in the dead of winter, your stylist, Hyerin, has you in a dress that begs to be pulled down every five minutes like clockwork.

You learned a long time ago to bite your tongue on matters like this. The brands you work for pay you for the exposure you give them, after all. The chill that settles in your bones from the ten steps you take from your paid car to the venue door will be well worth it next time you count the zeroes in your bank account. At least, that’s what Hyerin told you as she pushed you out of the car and into the cold.

Wasteland looks the same as it did the very first night you ever stepped foot inside. Same red, glowing guitar sign above the entrance. Same shitty overpriced drinks. Same sticky floors. It’s nice that some things never change even when you do.

You’ve never been on the balcony, though. You’ve gotta hand it to Jeongguk—he’s really pulling out all the stops. To your knowledge, the balcony is normally reserved for VIPs. Close friends and family of the band, other celebrities, lucky and well-connected fans. Significant others. You suppose you fall under more than one of those categories now.

The crowd gathered on this side of the stage buzzes incessantly around you, waiting for the set to start. The excitement is palpable, and you understand why. It’s the very last show of Burn The Stage’s very first world tour following the release of their third studio album, and they’re ending it here: in Seoul. At Wasteland no less, the venue that housed the show that got them signed in the first place. Of course people are excited.

If you were the same person you were in The Before, you would be, too.

Instead, as the stage lights go down and the crowd roars around you, you down the rest of your drink and pray it’ll do its job and calm your fidgeting. For a split second, the thought that maybe you shouldn’t be drunk tonight passes through your brain, but it disappears as quickly as it comes. Your hopes of making a good first impression were squandered as soon as Hyerin zipped up your dress.

Besides, it’s not as if Jeongguk picked you for your shining reputation. More like the opposite.

With a flash of lights and a cacophony of sound, Burn The Stage launches into their first song on the setlist. The crowd roars around you, but you’re not here as a fan, so you try to remember everything Jeongguk taught you in preparation for tonight.

If you weren’t already close, most everything there is to learn about Jeon Jeongguk himself could easily be found with a simple Naver search.

Not only is Jeongguk the lead vocalist and rhythm guitarist of Burn The Stage, but he’s also the de facto face of the band, and he couldn’t be better suited for the job. He’s beautiful. Like, seriously beautiful. Well-built and knows it, sings songs about love and sex and anger with the sweetest voice known to man, covered in tattoos and piercings that eommas everywhere pretend to disapprove of when they’re actually ogling just as much as their daughters. He’s a teenage girl’s wet dream, and with that comes hordes of them using the deductive skills of the NIS to figure out the last time he took a shit. Very little in his life is a secret, whether he likes it or not.

The rest of the band, in turn, gets the luxury of a little bit of mystery.

Park Jimin, the drummer, and Kim Taehyung, the bassist. Jeongguk’s best friends in the world. You’ve met them both in passing before, at industry events here and there, and they both seemed nice enough.

Jimin has a bit of a reputation for being temperamental, angry, but the way Jeongguk describes him paints him as something gentle. Childhood friends who’ve known each other since scraped knees and runny noses.

It’s public knowledge that Jimin wanted to be a dancer, before this—that when he was in college, he suffered an injury that ended his dancing career before it even started. One moment he was one of the most promising ballet students in Seoul, and the next he was retired at nineteen. He doesn’t like to talk about it, but every time the band is interviewed the question is inevitably asked. Do you have any regrets? You’ve watched the videos, seen the way he shakes with anger even as he answers with a saccharine smile. You have a feeling getting along with Jimin won’t pose any challenges for you. You know a thing or two about regrets.

Taehyung is a bit harder to figure out, but not in any way that sparks concern. He’s just an interesting guy that way.

He was the last to join the band, the first to answer a ‘BASS PLAYER NEEDED’ ad posted around the city. Apparently, he was so good that they didn’t feel the need to call anyone else.

He lives in his own world, does his own thing. Posts very artistic photo dumps on his Instagram with concerningly cryptic captions. He’s quiet when he’s around people he doesn’t know, but when he’s put in a room with Jimin and Jeongguk he becomes the loudest person there. He’s kind, caring, always seems to know the right thing to say even if it’s delivered in the strangest manner possible.

Jimin and Taehyung won’t cause any problems for you. Jeongguk assured you that they’d be easy to win over, that as long as Jeongguk likes you, you’re in with them.

The real wild card is the guitarist. Min Yoongi.

According to Jeongguk, Burn The Stage wouldn’t even exist if it weren’t for Yoongi. When the band formed, they were just dumb kids with a shared dream, but Yoongi was the one to set it all in motion.

When they didn’t have anywhere to practice, Yoongi convinced the ajumma he worked for to let him cram as much equipment as he could fit into a tiny noraebang room. When venues wouldn’t book them without the guarantee that they would draw a crowd, Yoongi burned hundreds of CDs and stood on the streets of Hongdae begging people to listen. When shady entertainment companies started offering them laughable contracts, Yoongi found Namjoon and somehow convinced him to manage them for dirt cheap. When they finally got an offer worth taking, Yoongi made them mull it over for as long as they possibly could. Weigh the pros and cons and decide if it was what they really wanted.

If Jeongguk is the face of the band, Yoongi is the heart. Unfortunately for you, this particular heart is very well-guarded.

Yoongi takes his privacy seriously. He refuses to answer interview questions he deems too personal, he doesn’t use social media. When asked why, his answer is always that he wants the music to speak for him.

Because that’s another thing: every single song that Burn The Stage has ever released has been penned by Yoongi. To his credit, it’s kind of what they’re known for. His lyrics have a raw honesty to them that’s gotten the band into trouble more than once.

You finally tune into the show that’s unfolded below you, the words spilling from Jeongguk’s lips loud and clear in your ears now that you’re paying attention.

Well, I ain't got no dollar signs in my eyes That might be a surprise but it's true Said, "I'm not like you and I don't want your advice Or your praise or to move in the ways you do and I never will" 'Cause all you people are vampires And all your stories are stale And though you pretend to stand by us I know you're certain we'll fail

It’s rock music. It’s polarizing, controversial, edgy. Biting the hand that feeds them—especially in the eyes of the executives lining the band’s pockets, you’re sure. And yet everyone eats it up.

Still, Yoongi wouldn’t get away with half of it if he wasn’t attractive, you’re sure of it.

Because he is. Attractive. They all are, and he’s no exception. He checks all of the boxes annoyingly well. The long hair, the signature smirk, the little silver barbell on a tongue that he seems all too happy to flash at a moment’s notice. Too bad he seems like one of those pretentious, tortured artist types that take themselves way too seriously. That’s never done it for you.

Jeongguk is the one singing Yoongi’s words, and he might as well be Korea’s sweetheart—if it weren’t for all the tattoos. He conveys the message of Yoongi’s songs exactly as intended, but he doesn’t have to act like an egotistical gatekeeper to do it.

Maybe it’s a preference on your part. You’ve always had a thing for sweetness.

★ ★ ★

After the concert, you’re ushered off of the balcony by one of the band’s security guards. It’s the same guy who escorted you up when you arrived, and you note to yourself that he’s very polite. Eunwoo, according to his nametag.

It tracks, given Burn The Stage’s reputation for making sure the women at their concerts feel comfortable in the crowd. You’ve heard stories about them stopping mid-song to have handsy men kicked out, and it’s nice to know their commitment extends to the people they employ for themselves.

Eunwoo offers you his hand palm-up as you descend down the balcony stairs, and you take it with a grateful smile. You’re feeling wobbly in these shoes, and the drinks you’ve downed since your arrival aren’t helping matters. Even with the assistance, you still feel like a baby giraffe as you step down, but thanks to Eunwoo, you don’t eat shit.

Eunwoo dutifully guides you backstage, to a grimy, graffitied hallway housing the dressing rooms for Wasteland’s talent of the night. Jeongguk waits outside of one of them, guzzling down a bottle of water as a female staff member dabs sweat off of his forehead with a pristine white towel. She’s only there for a moment before slipping back through the dressing room door. Finally noticing your approach, Jeongguk turns his head and grins at you, and you feel your nerves ebb away instantly. He’s good at that.

As you get closer to Jeongguk, you turn to smile and nod at Eunwoo in thanks. He smiles back politely, wordlessly falling back to give you some privacy.

“Daaaamn, YN-ah,” Jeongguk says, whistling lowly as you reach him. “You’re going to cause a bloodbath in there.” He nods his head towards the dressing room door, and you roll your eyes despite the heat building in your cheeks.

“I know, I know,” you say, smoothing your hands over your dress. “It’s not exactly a meet-the-family outfit, but I didn’t have a choice.”

“Nah, it’s cool. You look hot,” he says, grabbing your hand and making you do a spin, forcing a surprised laugh out of you as you try not to trip over yourself. Jeongguk keeps you steady, though, with a hand on your shoulder. “You good?”

“Yeah,” you say, although you’re sure your face gives away how terrified you are of what awaits you on the other side of the door. “Maybe you should’ve picked an actress for this, though.”

“I trust you,” he says softly, squeezing your shoulder. “It’s not too late to back out, though. I’ll understand…”

You believe him, of course. Those doe eyes don’t lie, and even so, he’s already told you over and over how bad he feels for asking this of you. But you don’t want to back out. Jeongguk has given you so much since you’ve met—it’s only right to try and repay him for it.

“I want to do this,” you assure him, reaching up to squeeze his hand on your shoulder. “I’m just worried I won’t be able to pull it off.”

“You will,” Jeongguk says, smiling down at you warmly. “Don’t sweat it too much, okay? We’ve got this. It’s not like I have to pretend to like you.”

Right. You wish Jeongguk’s words did what they were meant to and instilled some kind of confidence in you, but what they actually do is make your chest ache uncomfortably. Pull yourself together, you think. Now’s not the time.

You smile good-naturedly, hoping Jeongguk doesn’t notice the way it doesn’t quite meet your eyes. “Let’s get this over with,” you mumble.

“That’s the spirit!” he laughs, sliding the hand on your shoulder around to the other one so his arm is slung around you. You hate the way your heart flutters, despite the fact that you’d prepared for this. Dumb bitch.

Jeongguk cracks the dressing room door open just enough to ensure that all of the men inside are decent, and then he’s guiding you inside, your hands flying down to smooth your dress over again, just in case.

The dressing room is bustling with more people than you expected, people you recognize from the balcony and staff alike. There’s a fast-paced rock song playing over a bluetooth speaker, almost loud enough to drown out the chatter.

Everyone seems to be in celebration mode after the last show of the tour. There’s a large sheet cake on a cart in the middle of the room emblazoned with the band members’ faces in frosting, plastic champagne flutes littered around the room in varying states of fullness. Judging by the bottle in his hand and the way staff members wipe at his face fussily, it seems like Taehyung took the liberty of pouring champagne over his head to cool off.

You’re used to having lots of eyes on you—it comes with the job—but something about the way Jeongguk’s bandmates immediately stop what they’re doing and take notice of your presence startles you, puts you on edge.

“Jeonggukie! You missed the cake,” Jimin calls, standing up from where he sat on the couch. He holds out a slice of the sheet cake to Jeongguk, tilting his head at you as he approaches. “Where do I know you from?”

Jeongguk removes his arm from your shoulders to take the plate, snorting at the image of his decapitated cake-head staring up at him. “Hyungs,” he says, grabbing a plastic fork and digging into the slice. “This is YLN YN.”

“Oh, we’ve met before! The model, right?” Taehyung pipes up from where he’s still being wiped down, and you nod politely. “I saw your Innisfree campaign last month. I couldn’t remember whether your skin was really that nice in person.”

You watch as he extricates himself from the staff, ignoring their protests as he walks away from them.

Taehyung gets close to you, close enough to inspect your pores like he clearly intends to, and you fight the urge to instantly recoil. Jeongguk seems too busy stuffing his face with cake to interfere, and you want to make a good first impression. So much for your personal bubble.

“It is,” he says, nodding sagely to himself.

“Th-thank you?” you stammer. Beside you, Jeongguk finally tunes back in.

“Jeez, hyung,” he says around a mouthful of cake. He chews for a moment, swallowing thickly before continuing. “Let her breathe.”

“Sorry,” Taehyung says sheepishly, backing out of your personal space, and you let go of a breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding, shaking your head.

“It’s fine,” you say, mustering a polite smile.

You note that despite his initial (albeit subtle) acknowledgement of your existence when you walked in the door, Yoongi now seems entirely disinterested in interacting with you. He hasn’t moved from where he’s planted on the couch, focused intently on strumming his guitar. How he can even hear what he’s playing over the noise is beyond you. It’s not even plugged into an amp.

You’d be a little annoyed that he hasn’t even bothered to greet you, but you reason that he must be pretty worn out from all of the fanfare surrounding the show tonight. Introvert recognizes introvert. You try not to take it personally.

“Do you know Jeongguk-ah well?” Jimin asks, drawing your attention back to him. His eyes bounce between you and his bandmate. He seems to be putting the pieces together, so you glance at Jeongguk, wordlessly passing the question his way.

Thankfully, Jeongguk seems to get the hint. He tosses his plate in the nearest trash can before sliding over to you again, his arm slipping around your waist easily, betraying nothing.

“Hyungs,” he starts, glancing at you and nodding once. Let the show begin. “YN-ah is actually, um… my girlfriend.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you see Yoongi sit up. That got his attention, it seems.

A hush falls over the room, even the eyes of the staff members within earshot widening in response to Jeongguk’s announcement. Oh shit, you think. Please let this go well.

“Since when?” Taehyung asks, curiosity piqued. Thankfully, though, he doesn’t seem upset by the new information. At least, not as far as you can tell.

“Well, um,” Jeongguk starts, tonguing nervously at his lip ring. He pulls you closer so you’re practically curled against his chest now, and you silently pray that the way you’re looking at him reads as sweet and not like you’re about to jump out of your skin. “It’s actually been a few months now… Since right before the tour, actually.”

“Right before the tour?” Jimin asks, his brow furrowing in obvious confusion. “So you’ve been doing long distance?”

Jeongguk glances at you, a soft smile pulling at the corners of his mouth. “Yeah, it was bad timing on my part,” he says, his eyes fixed on yours. Damn. If he didn’t have such great pipes, you’d say he should’ve gone into acting. He’s male lead material. “I just couldn’t leave without telling her how I felt.”

You wish that you could do or say literally anything useful instead of just clinging to Jeongguk’s side like a barnacle. This is supposed to be a joint effort, but you feel frozen in place, unable to find your voice. It’s a good thing Jeongguk seems to be pulling it off all on his own.

“So cute,” Taehyung coos, bumping his shoulder against Jimin’s conspiratorially. “Our Jeonggukie’s all grown up and in love.”

“He’s always been a romantic,” Jimin joins in, miming at wiping fake tears as if he’s a proud parent. He reaches out and grabs your hands, startling you. “Please take care of him.”

“Hyuuuungs,” Jeongguk whines, tearing his arm away from you to whack Jimin and Taehyung on their heads simultaneously. “You’re going to scare her away!”

“Doubtful,” Yoongi says from where he’s still seated on the couch. Oh, so he does speak. It’s the first time you’ve heard his voice all night. It’s low, raspier in person than in the videos you’ve seen online. His words are directed at Jeongguk, but when you turn your head to look at him you find that his gaze is fixed on you. Your pulse spikes at the discovery. “I don’t think anything could scare her away from you, Guk-ah.”

The words themselves are innocuous, even supportive, but something about the way he says them makes your gut twist. Nobody else seems put off by it, but you can tell something’s not right. You have to say something, to open your mouth and speak. You have to pull this off, for Jeongguk.

“I’m not going anywhere,” you say, forcing a smile. You manage to tear your gaze away from Yoongi, looking back at Jeongguk. He’s grinning down at you, and it’s real, even if the pretense of it isn’t. Your smile becomes a little less forced in return.

★ ★ ★

Jimin and Taehyung are insistent that you stick around and celebrate for a while, so you do. You end up enjoying yourself, despite the weird moment with Yoongi.

Jimin and Taehyung are fun to be around, just like Jeongguk said they would be, although conversation between the three of them becomes a little hard for you to follow sometimes. They just talk so fast.

They ask you questions about your job, your friends, your family. They also tease Jeongguk relentlessly in front of you and seem all too thrilled to find out that you’re their noona. You find it surprising how easily you open up to them, but it just… happens. Just like it did with Jeongguk when you first met.

You relax enough to convince yourself that your perceived pointed nature of Yoongi’s words earlier was all in your head. Surely, he couldn’t have a problem with you when he doesn’t even know you. Jeongguk told you himself that Yoongi’s a quiet guy. Maybe that was his own way of telling you he approves of you. He hasn’t said or done anything since to make you think otherwise. Granted, he hasn’t said or done anything, period.

Once he arrives, you meet Namjoon, Burn The Stage’s manager. Jeongguk told you a little bit about him, but it was mostly just thinly-veiled thirsting. Now you see why.

He clarifies right off the bat that he already knows who you are, which saves you the anxiety of having to go through the whole routine again, and then he apologizes for being late.

“I was talking to reporters. I wanted the guys to be able to celebrate without having to do any interviews,” he explains as he shakes your hand with a dimpled smile. Damn. Yeah, you don’t blame Jeongguk one bit.

After a while, the champagne catches up with you and you have to excuse yourself to the bathroom.

The staff member that was dabbing Jeongguk’s sweat earlier—Minji, you learn—directs you out of the dressing room and to the nearest women’s bathroom further down the hallway.

You try to make it as quick as possible, much tipsier than you thought and all the more unstable in these shoes because of it. After one last check of your hair and makeup in the mirror, you make your exit, focusing down at your feet as you go.

Unfortunately, you run headfirst into someone’s chest in the process. Hands come up to grab your elbows, steadying you before you fall flat on your face. For a second, you think maybe Minji had been waiting to escort you back to the dressing room, but these are not a woman’s hands holding you up. Wait a second, you think. You definitely saw these ring-clad fingers displayed on a huge screen earlier. Strumming at a guitar, perhaps?

In a moment of amazing mental clarity on your part considering the state you’re in, you realize that these are Min Yoongi’s hands, and your head snaps up to look up at him.

“Yoongi-ssi! I’m so sorry!” You quickly right yourself to the best of your ability, pressing your hand to the wall next to you for support.

Once he’s sure you can hold yourself up without his help, Yoongi instantly retracts his hands, crossing his arms over his chest. “I should’ve been looking where I was going,” you add, doing your best to bow in apology without losing your balance again.

Yoongi tilts his head at you as if he’s assessing you, his gaze inscrutable. Man, for a lyricist this guy isn’t big on words. You’re just about to politely say goodbye and head back to the dressing room when he finally speaks.

“I’ve spent the past hour trying to figure out what your angle could possibly be, but I’m coming up short.”

Um. What?

“Huh?” you manage, blinking at Yoongi like he’s suddenly grown a second head.

“It’s not like your career’s in any trouble. Nobody thinks you're Korea’s angel or anything, but your shit reputation hasn’t stopped you from getting brand deals,” Yoongi continues, scoffing to himself. “Are you just bored? Is this what you do to amuse yourself?”

Uh oh. He knows. He knows for sure, and even worse, he thinks that you’re the mastermind.

“I seriously have no idea what you’re talking about,” you say, forcing your voice to remain level. You don’t even try to defend your reputation. It’s not like he’s wrong.

“Right,” Yoongi says, leaning in a little closer, like he’s about to tell you a secret. “Well, a word of advice. If you want people to buy that you’re really in love with Jeongguk, you could try to look less like you’re going to throw up when he touches you.”

FUCK. You thought you pulled it off. You thought you pulled it off, and now here’s Jeongguk’s goddamn hero telling you point-blank that you didn’t. You wrack your brain trying to think of anything you could possibly say to defend yourself, to get this guy off your ass, because this cannot be your fault. You’d never forgive yourself.

“I—”

“Or,” Yoongi starts, cutting you off. “You could just cut the bullshit and leave Jeongguk alone.” He pauses, rubbing his chin as if he’s pretending to think about it and then nodding once. “Yeah, let’s go with that one.”

Jesus Christ he’s a piece of work. You feel your fists clench at your sides, your nails digging painfully into your palms. You just got your nails done, and there’s a strong possibility you’ll draw blood, but it’s all you can do not to strangle this asshole right here and leave Burn The Stage without a guitarist.

“Yoongi-ssi,” you say, your words dripping with fake politeness. Fuck this guy, actually. “I don’t know what I’ve done to give you such a bad impression of me, but I assure you that Jeongguk and I are very much in love.”

“How many times do I have to tell you I don’t buy it?” Yoongi asks, voice tinged with impatience. “You may have everyone else in that room fooled, but not me, and if you hurt Jeongguk I can guarantee it won’t end well for you.”

“You don’t know anything about me,” you snap. “Again, I don’t know what the fuck I’ve done to make you think so poorly of me, but I meant what I said in there. I’m not going anywhere.”

You need to remove yourself from this interaction right now before you do something stupid like burst into tears. You take the opportunity to push past Yoongi before he gets a chance to say anything else, making sure to essentially shoulder check him in the process because again, fuck this guy.

You stalk down the hallway, feeling much more sober now. It’s as if all of the alcohol got forcibly drained from your system in the face of total fucking disaster, and you’re honestly thankful for it, because the last thing you need is this asshole seeing you actually fall.

For a moment, you’re fooled into thinking you’d successfully ended the conversation, but of course he needs the last word.

“I know more about you than you think, dollface.”

Dollface? The fuck?

You chance a glance behind you and you immediately regret it. Yoongi leans against the wall where you left him, an amused smirk spread over his face, and the sight immediately fills you with dread, a type of primal panic you haven’t felt in four years flooding your senses.

He doesn’t… He couldn’t know about that. There’s no possible way. Jeongguk doesn’t even know about that. Nobody does, because you’ve done everything in your meager power to keep it that way.

You whip your head back around to face front, your heels clacking on the crusty linoleum beneath them as you continue down the hallway. Don’t look back, you think. He doesn’t know.

You’re thankful that you brought your bag with you to the bathroom, because you’re very much not in the mood for a party now. Once you’re safely outside, you call your car and send a text to Jeongguk explaining your sudden escape. You felt sick, you tell him.

It’s not like it’s a lie.

Yoongi loves being on stage.

Over the past few years, there’s been a noticeable change in his demeanor. He’s become passive, apathetic to the normal day-to-day that comes with being a celebrity. Nothing really wows him anymore.

He remembers the way he reacted to the accommodations the band received when they first got signed. He was way too scared to ask for things at first, but the label gave it all to him anyway.

For instance, Yoongi’s always been particular about his stationery. The first time he filled a notebook after getting signed, he didn’t even think to consider it a company expense. Why would he? He was fully capable of buying his own shit, even if he had to save up for it. Sure, every time he had to write a lyric down on the back of a receipt his eye would twitch, but it wasn’t anything he hadn’t done before.

But the label guys noticed. Before he even had a chance to buy his next batch of notebooks and pens, he was sat down in a spacious meeting room and asked point-blank what he needed. When Yoongi gave them specifics—Leuchtturm 1917 unlined hardcover pocket journals and a fuckton of Uni-Ball Jetstream Premier pens—they didn’t even bat an eye. When he—rightfully—warned them that he might strangle someone if he’s handed a gel pen instead of a ballpoint, they just assured him that wouldn’t happen.

Ever since then, there’s been an endless supply of exactly what he needs, always within reach. He’s still grateful for that, of course, because he goes through those fuckers fast. But it’s just a fact of his life now. It’s not special to get his fucking Leuchtturms anymore, not when he could douse his entire supply with gasoline and burn it on a whim and still have a fresh one in his hand within mere minutes.

And it’s not just journals and pens.

Namjoon is the band’s representative. Yoongi picked him personally long before there was any contract, or even hope for one, and if everything were to go to shit tomorrow, Namjoon would still be there. But after the single from their second album charted on the Billboard Hot 100, a label-equivalent to Namjoon was hired, as if anybody could ever be equivalent to Namjoon. Park Hyunseok. Park Hyunseok, whose sole duty is to buzz around Yoongi and his bandmates like a pesky fly and “make sure they’re happy.” They quite literally want for nothing.

Yoongi remembers when his skin used to buzz with the emotions simmering just under the surface. He was fiery in his youth, pissed off and ready to prove a point. He felt everything strongly, fully.

Not so much these days. Anger is only marketable for so long, or so he’s been told.

For the past year, Yoongi’s felt numb to the world. And he’s dealt with it, of course. That’s what he does. The album did great, the tour sold out, the boys are happy. That’s really all that matters. He just doesn’t know how he’s going to write another fucking album if he’s got nothing to write about anymore.

Still, he loves being on stage. There’s nothing like it. It never gets old, never gets boring. He still hasn’t gotten used to the feeling of stepping onstage and feeling a crowd scream his name, scream his lyrics right back at him. Lyrics to songs that he wrote in his shoebox apartment when he was eighteen and it felt like nobody gave a fuck about him. Funny how things change.

Nobody can take that feeling away from him, even if they’ve taken all the other ones.

It’s been a good night. It feels good to be back in Seoul after being away for months, feels even better to be on this particular stage again. Yoongi always feels keyed up after a good show, itching to do something with all of the energy thrumming through his body, and tonight is no different. He’s almost giddy with the opportunity to celebrate this tour with his bandmates and Namjoon and then go home and crash. Home. Fuck, it’s a good night. He has a hot date with his king size bed.

But then you.

It’s been years since you’ve even been a thought in Yoongi’s brain, and he liked it that way. Unfortunately, it’s apparently true what they say: all good things must come to an end.

Yoongi sees right through you. He's met so many of your type in his life that even if he hadn’t met you before he would’ve been able to sniff you out the second you walked backstage. Users. Social climbers. The bored and braindead looking for their next toy. The exact kind of person he’s been trying to protect Jeongguk from this whole time, and now you’re on his arm.

And whatever, a hookup is one thing. Yoongi frankly doesn’t give a fuck where Jeongguk decides to stick his dick. The less he knows the better on that front. But a relationship? No, it isn’t real. Yoongi knows that much. Maybe it is for Jeongguk, but not for you. He's never even heard Jeongguk, hopeless romantic extraordinaire, talk about you.

Jeongguk introduces you as his girlfriend, and suddenly it’s like Yoongi’s watching a car crash in slow motion. He prays that he’s not alone, that Jimin and Taehyung have caught on to your piss-poor acting skills—seriously, you look like you’re about to pass out—but it looks like Yoongi’s entirely alone on this one. You have them wrapped around your little finger with minimal effort. He has a feeling that comes as naturally to you as breathing.

Of course, Yoongi has the added displeasure of having met you before, way back when. When you had the chance to be somebody, before you pissed it away, to what? To pout in front of a camera for a living? He thought he’d run out of ways to be wrong about you four years ago, but clearly you just can’t help yourself.

And of course you don’t remember him. Why would you?

Yoongi knows Jeongguk better than anybody. He also knows that thing people say about teenagers is true. If you tell them not to do something, they’ll only want to do it more. Jeongguk may be a grown man now, but he’s stubborn as fuck, and he never grew out of that. If he goes to Jeongguk and flat-out tells him that his girlfriend is a piece of human garbage, Jeongguk will only date her harder.

He tries to control the infection at the source by confronting you directly, but it’s clear the fire that he thought you lacked is, in fact, there, if only to piss Yoongi off.

“I’m not going anywhere,” you say.

Okay.

If that’s how you want to play, Yoongi can fucking play. He’s going to make you wish you’d left Jeongguk alone when he gave you the chance.

✧ shoot me a reply or an ask if you enjoyed this chapter! feedback is always appreciated <3 join my taglist if you want to be tagged in future fics!

✧ TAGLIST: @jajabro @pitchblack0309 @sugar-snap @ot72025 @ktownshizzle

@futuristicenemychaos @tea4sykes @sugainmybowl @namjoonsbuspass @wobblewobble822

PREVIOUS CHAPTER ✧ MASTERLIST ✧ NEXT CHAPTER

495 notes · View notes

borathae · 2 months ago

Text

↳ Index [Day 05 - Dragon Cock]

Pairing: Soft Dom!Yoongi x f.Reader

Genre: Dragon!Yoongi, Fantasy!AU, Secret Love!AU

Kinks: dragon cock, cunnilingus, magical spit, vaginal fingering, vaginal penetrative sex, he tries so hard to be gentle with her, breeding, creampie, multiple orgasms, praise, strength kink, size kink (he is a lot bigger ‘cause dragon yk), giddy aftercare

Wordcount: 5.5k

a/n: i love him i love him i love him!! he is my beloved pookie and i’ve only known him for one day! also, click this link if you wanna see his delicacies :) i’m serious, do it :)

You lived in Bailemon, which liked to consider itself a town, but it was very far from that. It was small, perhaps even small enough to be considered a village instead of a town. Not many outsiders visited Bailemon because it was far from big cities, nestled between two high mountain ranges and hidden in a dense forest. The roads were passable, but not good. People here lived from the forest and from the little mountainous farming they were able to do during the warmer months.

Your town – or village – had a village square where each second day, the farmers and merchants gathered to sell their goods. In autumn, there was a festival of fire held on the square to ward off the evil spirits of winter. Bailemon also had a place of worship, which was considered holy beyond comparison. It was said that on its grounds, evil cannot tread and in times of danger, one should run to it for shelter.

The people in your village were superstitious, they believed in ghosts, dark magic and demons. You knew their superstition to be justified. This world was dark. The nights during the cold months were too long not to bring forth evil. But you also knew that stuff like holy grounds were nothing but lies to make life in the village easier. Evil walks where it pleases, it takes what it wants and leaves no room for escape.

You lived in the village with your aging parents, taking care of them as their only surviving child. You had a brother once, but he walked into the forest one day and never returned. People say that evil spirits got him, but you know that this was a lie because you looked for him. At least you tried to because you never found him nor traces of evil spirits. You are convinced that it was simply a pack of hungry wolves which took him from your family. Or perhaps he ran away to somewhere warmer and happier. You wouldn’t blame him.

As the only living child of your parents, it became your duty to tend to them in their growing age. You earned money forging swords for the Queen’s army and went hunting whenever food ran out. You also helped the farmers shoe their horses and ox and sometimes scared villagers came to you asking for yet another lock for their front door. Your family lived well thanks to you, even if work by the forge was hard and difficult.

If you weren’t sweating by the scorching fire or hunting in the forest, you walked it in search of berries and mushrooms or to train with your sword. The reason however why you walked the woods most, was the dragon living high up in the northern mountains.

Dragons. Yes, they were as real as evil spirits and wicked demons were and your village was under the protection of one.

Dragons didn’t look as one might imagine a dragon to look like, at least not always. They could morph their enormous dragonic bodies into human-like bodies and walk among people. Their eyes, however, always remained a fiery yellow and their canine teeth were always sharp and pointy. They were also taller than normal humans and had scales down their necks and torsos. Some even had scales on their hands and sharp claws which sliced deeper than any blade ever could. In the lands of humans, dragons were considered gods.

The festival of fire was held because of the dragon living in the mountains. A brave soul is sent to his lair to ask him for his presence each year. Then once the dragon comes down from his high home, he lights the fire with his hot breath and with it, wards off the evil winter spirits. Once the fire burns bright, the villagers begin dancing around the fire in pairs, thanking the dragon for the fire and his protection while he sits on a wooden throne, overlooking the dance. He is always alone during these festivities, drinking wine and eating meat, except for when one of the many willing women – and men – try catching his attention. He never reciprocates.

Marrying a dragon was considered a gift from the gods and not many were successful. Dragons were a distant people – perhaps that is why they became so rare these days – and scarcely engaged with humans except for when they were needed. They lived longer than any human ever would and because of their bigger bodies, many who tried to be intimate with a human, ended up hurting their beloved counterpart. So for the safety of humans, of whom the dragons were very fond, they stayed away from them.

That doesn’t stop you however from regularly walking the path to the dragon’s lair. Sword strapped to your back and with a thick dress warming your body, you walk the steep and stony path. You put your parents to sleep already and locked the cottage. The priest spoke of evil spirits dancing on the wind tonight and you didn’t want to risk anything. You knew that they were safe in your house because you placed dragon ash by each window and door. It was the only thing which truly kept evil away and it is a regular present the dragon gives you.

You take a deep breather once you reach the mountain plateau in front of his cave. Marks of his dragon body landing dig deep into the grey gravel. Small autumn flowers grow in its deep crevices. The dragon placed a pot of flowers next to the cave entrance. You have to chuckle each time you pass it because of its peculiarity. It looks so out of place and yet fits his character so well.

“Yoongi!” you call out the dragon’s name, voice echoing in the big cave. You venture deeper into the cave, leaving the cold autumn air behind. “Yoongi, are you home?”

His lair consisted of two caves. One big and deep and one smaller. The big cave was in the front, welcoming you with endless darkness as it dug deep into the mountain. It smelled ancient and wet in here and there was always a faint sound of water trickling somewhere. Yoongi can fly in it when he is in his true form and hide on the ceiling when he doesn’t want to be found. The smaller cave was where he lived however. You have to take a sharp turn to the right for it and walk through a corridor-like walkway. The ceiling shrinks in height until it was but six meters.

“Yoongi, are you in here?” you try again, entering his true lair. Your voice doesn’t echo anymore. Lantern and torches light up the walls, a fireplace warms the space, expensive rugs cover the stone ground and golden furniture fills the room. Gold, jewels and crystals are scattered all around the cave in heaps or stuffed into big treasure chests. It feels homely here and tonight it is empty.

“Where the heavens are you?” you murmur, looking around the lair. An especially golden cup calls your attention. You bend down to inspect it better, fluttering your lashes at your own distorted reflection. It brings a chuckle to your lips and you straighten up, “how silly I looked.”

You ghost your fingers over a set of earrings next. They sparkle like stars in the sky. They are so beautiful.

“Careful, they’re worth more than your entire village.”

“Oh heavens”, you startle, pulling your sword in instinct and whipping around quickly. The blade graces against your stalker’s throat without cutting them.

“Don’t strike me down just yet”, Yoongi says, lifting his hands.

“You scared me”, you say, touching his chin with the tip of your sharp sword.

The right corner of his lips curls into an amused smirk, revealing glimpses of his long fangs.

“I could tell”, he says blithely despite the sword against his throat.

You put pressure on his chin, forcing his head to tilt up and for his amused smirk to grow. His fiery eyes flicker, a deep growl rumbles in his chest.

“I could have cut your head off”, you say.

“And yet you didn’t.”

You flip the blade to its side, forcing him to gulp because of the sharpness against his skin.

“Careful now”, he rasps.

“Mhm”, you decide with a cock of your brow, pulling your sword back. You twirl it once then put it back into its sheath, features warming as you laugh.

His golden eyes soften and a smile curls his lips. He closes the distance, placing his big hands on your waist and bending down to kiss your lips. You rest your hands on his strong chest, getting on your tiptoes to reach him better. He breaks the kiss, rubbing his nose against yours gently. His breath smells fresh and feels warm.

“What are you doing here?” he asks.

“The cottage was too cold.”

He laughs, “this is the only reason?”

You snicker, dancing your hands to the nape of his strong neck to trace the scales. You shake your head, “no, I missed you.”

“I missed you too.”

“You did?”

“Mh-hm very much so.”

He draws a giggle to your lips. He smiles, tasting it with a tender kiss. “Come here you”, he mumbles and deepens the kiss. He lifts you off the ground for it just enough that you didn’t have to stand on your tiptoes any longer.

You break the kiss to talk, even if he disagrees with a low growl. His golden eyes gaze longingly at your lips.

“Where were you before I called for you?”

“Deep in the caves, digging for gold.”

“I see and were-”

He interrupts you in laughed words, “will you kiss me or do I have to steal it from you?”

“No. No, I will kiss you. I got the message”, you laugh, pulling him into a deep kiss.

Yoongi purrs deeply, holding you tighter against him as his lips fall into a passionate dance with yours.

You met Yoongi in the year your brother died. You knew him long before that, but up until then, never talked to him. You simply watched from a distance as he lit the fire and then sat on his throne overlooking the dance. You also watched him refuse countless suitors and return to his cave alone once the festival ended. Other than that, you never engaged with him. You had always found him interesting, because dragons are gods after all and he looked so very beautiful in his human form. His hair was as black as soot, his eyes as golden as flames and his scales were an iridescent of black and gold. He didn’t possess sharp claws, which made his touch so very gentle and tender and his lips were soft and pouty which made his kiss so very addicting.

You talked to Yoongi in the year your brother died. You spent too many days to count in the dense forest in search for him and it happened that one day, you got lost. You tried and tried to find your way back, but couldn’t. Night replaced the day and you already saw yourself freezing to death when he came. At first you thought him to be a bear, but then he asked you if you were lost and you knew that you were saved. You told him about why you were in the forest and he offered you comfort in your painful times of grief. He allowed you to talk about your brother as he walked you back to the village, he even allowed you to cry and assured you that your tears were not “entirely silly”. Once he led you back to your cottage, he gave you a bag of dragon ash and told you to spread it on each window and door to keep the rest of your family safe and you thanked him with promises of praying to him in the worship hall tomorrow. Back then, you thought that you were blessed and lucky to have an interaction with him, but you never could have imagined that this one time interaction became a regular thing.

Ever since that day, he began waiting for you by the forest road, offering you companionship in your search for your brother and like this, your walks in the forest became a regular thing until one day, you took his hand and he took yours, never wanting to let go again.

The people in the village didn’t know about your relationship with Yoongi. It was your wish to keep it secret because you knew that they would ruin it. They would force you to marry him, to bear his children, to become their goddess. You didn’t want this life, you wanted to take care of your parents and help the people with your smithies, not be someone to worship.

Yoongi didn’t mind that you wanted to keep him a secret. He liked it. He had many treasures taken from him because they were precious to him and if it was revealed that you were the most precious treasure of all, it would kill you and him in the process. He cannot lose you, not ever. Not when he walked the earth alone for so long, not when his fiery heart finally had someone to burn for.

Yoongi was lonely before he met you. He had other dragons to talk to, but he enjoyed the company of only a very, very few. He also had lots of suitors, which could have made the nights easier, but Yoongi wasn’t one for meaningless fucking. Yoongi craved connection above all. He craved intimacy and trust and conversation. He craved someone to care for and someone to see him as another living being not as a god. You give him all of this and more, but Yoongi knows that even if you didn’t give him any of that, he would love you. He loves you without reason after all. He loves you simply because it was right.

You break the kiss for air, vision just a little blurry as you look at him. You are eye to eye when you are in his arms, hands running along his scaly neck and strong shoulders. A black tunic sits on his torso, allowing his higher body heat to reach your palms. Even in the iciest nights he will warm you. Sometimes in winter, when your parents were already sleeping and the village was quiet, Yoongi sneaks into your cottage through the window (which is always hilarious because he is very big in comparison to the small frame) so he could warm you as you fell asleep. He is always gone the next morning, only having left behind a fresh bag of dragon ash and a few gold coins you could spent in the big city on food.

“You are so warm”, you say, making his eyes smile.

“You are such a delight.”

Your eyes race between the other’s, you and he feel breathless. Your fingers run up to his slightly pointy ears, scratching him behind them.

Yoongi purrs, tilting his head back as his lids flutter.

“If you touch me like this…”

“I know.”

It is a silent understanding between you and him. Yoongi sighs your name and pulls you into a kiss. His fangs clash with yours before he naturally fixes his roughness, kissing you oh so tenderly. Tenderly, but also incredibly hungry. You moan, fingers twisting his black locks and legs closing around his waist. He answers you in a guttural growl, fingers grasping you harder.

This is also why you walked the difficult path. Not only did you want to see him, you wanted his body and touch. You craved it like fire craves wood to burn.

Yoongi walks to his bed with you, laying you atop the big mattress. He climbs over you, caging you under his big, strong body. You open your legs willingly, hands slipping from his hair to grasp the sheets instead.

The kiss breaks because he broke it. His hot breath graces your skin. He cradles your cheek, thumb caressing your temple.

“My treasure, I”, he begins, fingers dimpling your soft thigh possessively, “I need you. I need you so much, I can scarcely breathe. Will you have me?”

You nod your head vigorously, stomach fluttering in what was to come.

“I need to hear it, please.”

“I will. I will have you”, you allow him, parting your legs.

Yoongi moans your name and kisses you, pulling you up into a sitting position to take off your sword. Your fingers are busy with his shirt, undoing the knots and bows. You break apart for just a moment, taking off your clothes. You cannot bother to be dressed.

A moment of calm after the undressing, used to stare at each other. You are both kneeling on the bed, facing each other. He is panting, growling deeply each time he exhales like a dragon ready to spit fire. The sound makes you wetter each time he does it. His torso is muscular and his scales hug his form as if he was wearing armour. They are mostly around his chest and upper back and fade out on his lower torso. His legs and crotch are free of scales, skin golden and sun-kissed and looking so human. You touch him, tracing the scales first before making your way down to his legs.

He lets you, eyes mesmerised by the plumpness of your breasts and the curves of your bared body. He reaches out, sending his fingers on a walk along your landscape.

“You are so beautiful”, he speaks softly, eyes gazing at the goosebumps his touch draws to the surface.

“You are just as beautiful”, you tell him, caressing the silken skin of his stomach.

You reach his hips. His skin is so soft there and sensitive to scratches. You give him exactly that, making his cock twitch between his thighs.

Yoongi’s cock wasn’t human and the first time you saw it in its full size, you understood why so many dragons ended up hurting their lovers. It was the cock of a dragon, made for dragon. If he was in his true form, you are actually unable to take it because of its enormous size. If he was in his human form, it shrunk with him, but it was still insanely big in comparison to human cocks. His cock curved slightly in the shape of an S. He wasn’t smooth as humans were, instead his length had an engorged tip with a textured shaft, which stimulated even your deepest spots. When he released inside you, his base swelled up, keeping his cock lodged inside you until your quivering walls had enough of drinking his nectar.

You were scared at first and Yoongi, feeling just a little insecure that you couldn’t like his cock, told you that you could still escape if you so wished to do. The fear in his voice drew you closer to him back then and you assured him that you could make it work because you wanted nobody else to fill you than him. He took your virginity that night and for not one second, you felt pain or discomfort, lying in his arms afterwards while his fingertips drew shapes of adoration on your skin and he whispered how much he adored you.

The memories of countless shared nights draw you closer to him and your hand to his cock, tracing his textured shaft. Despite his many pumps and crevices, his skin was soft to the touch. He was hotter than humans and it made his length feel incredible inside. It is best described as a feeling of burning from the inside in the most pleasurable of ways and once he releases inside, oh, once his hot cream fills your belly to the point of bloating, the heat is so intense that you often end up screaming in ecstasy.

You close your fingers around his base tightly and drag them up to his tip. The pressure is enough to squeeze droplets of precum out of his slit, eliciting a deep growl from him.

He frowns, exhaling a hot swirl of breath on your face. It wasn’t painful, simply insanely arousing. His fingers dimple your hips as he grabs you. You wobble slightly from the intense touch, hand trembling around his large cockhead.

“You are playing with fire”, he lulls, eyelids heavy in pleasure.

“I like it hot”, you taunt, twisting your fist around his tip.

“You drive me insane”, he gets out and slaps your hand away for the sole purpose of pushing you into the sheets. He pins your hands above your head. “One day it will end in your punishment.”

You moan, writhing under him. You wouldn’t mind being punished if it meant that you could feel his touch.

“Stay like this.”

You whimper, nodding your head in obedience.

“I will be gentle, I promise.”

He lowers his lips to your neck, kissing a path down to your heat. He is hasty in his kisses, letting his impatience shine through this way. Dragons, so he told you, are a greedy people. Once they lust for something - or in his case, someone - they would do anything to claim it as quickly as possible. Stuff like taking it slow and preparing you are foreign to his people, but he does it for you. He is so good in being patient, but sometimes his greed shines through. Tonight for example when he kisses a greedy and hasty path down your body just so he could be between your legs faster.

He places one kiss on each of your inner thighs, strong fingers gripping your flesh afterwards to pull your legs apart. His fiery eyes race over your exposed cunt, flickering hungrily.

“You are so wet already”, he rasps.

“I wanted you all week.”

“I wanted you more, you have no idea.”

Patience finally leaves him and he claims what he lusts for most, drawing a yelp of pleasure from you. You arch your back, legs shaking in his hold and fingers grasping his thick hair as he feasts on your cunt sloppily.

Yoongi pleases you with his mouth for two reasons, he told you. The first reason is his insatiable hunger and greed. You are sweeter than anything he could ever taste and your cunt’s nectar makes his head blurry in pleasure. The second reason is the more important one. It is to make you ready for his dragonic cock. The spit of a dragon is relaxing to a human, it contains elements which not only heighten the sensitivity of their nerve endings, but which also relaxes the muscles so their holes could take a dragon’s cock easily. Yoongi confessed to you back then that the reason why so many dragons hurt their human lovers is because they don’t take time to properly relax them. They let their lust and greed control them and as a result hurt their humans.

Yoongi would never. Yoongi takes his time with you. He licks every inch of your dripping heat, buries his long tongue deep in your walls and pumps it into you until your tightened walls loosened up and you are gaping for his cock. He licks you to orgasm whenever he prepares you and you always shake in his grip, forcing his greed to grow to unbearable levels. Yoongi loves your orgasms as much as he loves gold.

Tonight is no different, Yoongi draws an overwhelming orgasm out of you. You scream, legs trying to close on his head and weakened body helplessly shaking on the sheets. Yoongi growls into you, pushing his fingers deep into your loose cunt so he could feel your walls tremble.

He keeps them inside you after your high ebbed down, curling them greedily while his soiled lips kiss up your body. He grabs your wrists and holds them together, big body draped over yours and fingers rubbing your sensitive insides.

“You’re sweating”, he rasps, gazing at you obsessively.

“Please fuck me, please”, you beg, voice so close to a sob. His fingers aren’t enough. “I need your cock, please.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. Please.”

“I will be gentle, I promise”, he says, slipping his fingers from your cunt to jerk his own cock. He guides it to your gaping cunt, rubbing it through your folds. “You are so beautiful, my treasure”, he breathes, giving you all his adoration by pushing into you.

You gasp, tensing up under him at the feeling of his engorged tip pushing past your entrance.

“Are you hurting?” he asks, moving as slowly as possible.

You shake your head, gazing up at him droopily.

“Tell me if it does. You are doing so well, my treasure”, he whispers, fingers rubbing your swollen clit to make the breach easier.

“It feels so good…”

You can feel his large tip as it digs deeper and deeper, but what truly feels like heaven are the many pumps and crevices filling you. Your entrance is on pleasurable fire, feeling every texture inch by inch. His saliva made your walls sensitive to the very end, forcing you to feel his textured cock even deep inside. He curves so perfectly that his large tip presses against you deepest pleasure spot, forcing your belly to bulge just a little because he was so, so big.

“I’m in. Does it hurt?” he asks, keeping still for your sake. His greed tells him to take you rough. It takes everything inside him not to give into his animalistic side.

You spill tears.

“No. No, I’m sorry I-” he panics, but gets stopped when you rip your hands free from his grasp to cradle his face instead.

“I love you, Yoongi.”

He shudders, melting into your hands.

“I love you too”, he gets out and twists the pillow above your head as he begins pumping his cock into you. “Does this please you?”

“A-ah”, you let out, trembling in reaction.

“Is it too much?”

“No, please…don’t stop”, you croak, rolling your eyes back as you fall into the pleasurable fire. Your lips part, making way for the endless noises of bliss he draws out of you. It feels so good. He feels so good.

“You are so beautiful. Oh, I need you. I want you. I crave you, argh”, he growls, twisting the pillow rougher as his greedy hips pick up speed. Your moans drive him wild, the view of your glowing face has the same effect on him than the view of fresh gold does. He feels high, head pounding as he feeds his insatiable lust with each heavy, deep thrust.

Your body is so small under him, looking so fragile and breakable and yet you take him so easily. Yoongi rips the pillow, grinding his fangs as he growls. He buries his cock deeper in your gaping walls, forcing your back to arch off the mattress and for your voice to rise in pitch. He lets his tail grow just so he could wrap it around your waist and hold you in this position while he rubbed your pulsating clit and fucked your soft cunt.

“You’re mine. My treasure, my everything, my beloved”, he chants, deep voice contorted in pleasure.

He is still in disbelief that you can take him so easily. So small, so fragile, so soft and yet you can house him entirely. The first time he laid with you, Yoongi barely went past his first two inches, moving carefully and slowly just so he wouldn’t hurt you. He would have been fine if that was all that you could ever take, but you proved him so wrong. He can be free with you. You can fully take him and it makes you moan so blissfully that Yoongi feels high just from the sound of it.

He is so blessed to have you. His treasure, his beloved, his everything. His tail tightens around your waist possessively, angling your hips so he could go so much deeper.

You wail his name, fingers gripping his strong arms and legs dropping as they stop working. Only his tail holds you up right now while you shake under him.

“Are you?”

“Yes”, you wail, moaning loudly afterwards.

“I need you, I fucking need you”, he spits, cursing because you anger him in pure lust, “I’m going to fill you with my seed until you’re bursting. I will paint your walls golden, you will be mine. Mine forever, urgh.”

“Please! Please make me yours, please!”

Yoongi lets out a dragonic growl, ripping the pillow apart and throwing his head back as your pleas break him. His big balls empty themselves in your trembling heat, giving you so much pleasure that you orgasm again with screams of his name. There is so much of his seed and it doesn’t want to stop, filling you up past your limits so it squirts out of you with each angry thrust. And Yoongi keeps going until his base swells and he genuinely cannot move his cock anymore.

He drops his head into the crook of your neck, huffing and puffing demonically. His cock is still releasing into you, making you sob because the pressure of his engorged base and swollen tip against your overly sensitive walls makes you orgasm again.

“Yoongi, I can’t do this. I can’t, it feels too good”, you plead, walls clenching around his swollen cock as they drink his golden seed greedily.

“I know, my treasure, I know”, he soothes you, “I can’t stop. I’m so greedy, I can’t stop. I’m sorry.”

“I can’t do this, Yoongi. Yoongi please”, you beg, barely able to breathe. While dragon’s spit relaxes, their seed gives a human a rush of pleasure. The first time it happened, you cried because it was so overwhelming. You still need to cry often whenever he breeds you and tonight all that holds you back is the loving embrace of his tail around your waist. It feels so good but also like too much because you cannot stop orgasming.

“Not again, ah please Yoongi!!”

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. It’s almost over, I promise. Please hold onto me, it’s almost over”, he soothes you, massaging your engorged clit to make it easier to bear.

Your stomach is so bloated from his seed, you are sweating so much. He can feel one more load building up.

“I need you to breathe for me. One last time, I promise”, he lulls and rolls his hips into you.

You writhe and scream, scratching down his neck with all your might. You don’t draw blood because his scales protect him, but he still feels it as a pleasurable tingle.

Yoongi lifts his head to look at you. It lasts one second because then his eyes roll back as the view of your ruined, drugged body sets him off.

“I love you”, he wails, bursting into you one last time. He makes you orgasm with him, walls tightening to the point of milking him dry.

This is what you both needed. To be so connected.

He drops his head back into your neck, fingers slipping from the ruined pillow to pet your head instead.

“My treasure, oh my treasure, my golden beloved”, he croaks, kissing you gently, “I’m sorry for being so greedy, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t. I’m so happy”, you get out, body laying limp and ruined under him. His swollen cock is still inside you, keeping every droplet of his golden seed in you. It warms you so much, makes you feel so good.

“You are? You’re happy?” he asks.

“So happy.” You hug him with your weak arms, barely able to close them around his broad back. “I’m yours.”

He whimpers, seeking your closeness by hugging you against his chest with his strong arm and his tail.

“Oh my most loved treasure.” He kisses a slow path up to your face, cradling your cheek with his unoccupied hand. “Will you stay the night? I promise to fly you down to the village by morning.”

“Yes, I’d like to stay. I couldn’t possibly walk tonight. Not after how you ruined me.”

A shy giggle slips from his lips. You open your eyes, meeting his giddy gaze. His cheeks are flushed, his dark hair is sticking to his sweaty forehead. The view of him makes his cock feel so much better inside you. You are his. So entirely and willingly his.

“I couldn’t help it. I missed you so much and, and you are so tempting. Did I hurt you?”

“No, it felt so good. You still do”, you say, clenching around his swollen cock. He shudders slightly, drawing closer to you.

“I promise my cock will soften soon, you just feel so good. I’m trying, but he wants to bask in you longer, I’m sorry.”

“I hope he doesn’t soften soon. I don’t want this to end.”

He blushes, but needs to seek more reassurance still.

“Please forgive me for the way I acted when I bred you. I acted like a greedy animal.”

“Mhm, you did. Because you are a greedy animal. My greedy dragon, mine”, you say caressing his soft cheek.

He leans into your touch, eyes lowering in adoration. You giggle, scrunching your nose cutely. He smiles, brushing some messy strands of hair out of your forehead.

“I love you, my little human.”

“And I love you, my strong dragon.”

841 notes · View notes

moonchild1 · 2 years ago

Text

min yoongi fic rec list (Ⅴ)

hi guys it's been a minute since i posted it's been hectic i recently got a promotion so that's been taking up my time but here's another list of my favourite yoongi fics honestly reading them was so much fun and made me feel happy so i hope you enjoy them as much as i did. remember to please show lots of love and support to these incredible authors and creators and their blogs, don't forget to give them a follow , leave a heart, reblog or leave a kind message i know they will appreciate hearing from you, these fics contain smut so no minors interact feel free to send and share any fics you are currently into and would like to share with me i would love hearing from you guys

a- angst s- smut f- fluff

series

love lockdown by @personasintro f s a (enemies to lovers zombie apocalypse)

belong by @ahundredtimesover f s a (exes au basketball yoongi summer love au)

in the margins by @bonvoyagenoona f s a (enemies to friends to lovers slow burn)

look down on me like that by @here2bbtstrash s a (enemies/coworkers to lovers slow burn)

andante cantabile by @kkulfm-2 f s (regency au unrequited love slow enemies to lovers pianist yoongi)

match made in hell by @ughcore f s a (arranged marriage doctor au rivals to lovers)

only yesterday by @borathae f s a (strangers to lovers)

dating advice by @taleasnewastime f s a (strangers to lovers)

the deal by @untaemedqueen f s a (strangers to lovers gang/cartel au)

matilda by @babystrcandy f s a (brother's best friend unrequited love)

down the hall by @jjungkookislife s a (brother's best friend)

ink nemesis by @scriptaed f a (fake dating au)

unexpected lovers by @jjkeverlast f s a (fake dating artist yoongi)

love is a dog from hell by yourlocalhoney (ao3) f s a (love triangle friends with benefits) ft.Jungkook

petals by @yoonia f (parents au)

pink bird houses by @54daysormore f a (single dad au)

everytime by @deathbyyoongx f s a (fuckboy exes au)

desolate by @angelicyoongie f s a (hybrid au)

one-shot

first-date bait by @jimlingss f (strangers to lovers)

↬first-date bait drabble @/jimlingss s (strangers to lovers)

wallflowers by @bonvoyagenoona s (strangers to lovers)

shirt by @bonvoyagenoona s a (one night stand idol au)

sugar by @zehakoo f s (ceo au strangers to lovers neighbours)

radio sweethearts by @helenazbmrskai s (brother's best friend college au slow burn)

tongue like candy by @jjungkookislife s a (brother's best friend age gap)

auburn skies by @persphonesorchid f s a (brother's best friend)

black and white by @akinnie75 f a (slow burn)

always & forever by @sugakookitty f s (established relationship wedding au)

hard liquor by @chateautae s (boss x employee age gap)

sweetener by @taegularities f s (enemies to lovers fwb au fuckboy)

soft spot by @cultleaderyoongi f (first date)

↬sweet spot by @/cultleaderyoongi f s (established relationship)

sticks & stones by @xpeachesncream f s a (friends to lovers ex friends with benefits pinning au)

fuck being friends by @strawberrynamjoon f a (friends to lovers college au)

the seventh muse by @wwilloww f s (friends to lovers)

tell me what you want by @/wwilloww f s (friends to lovers)

yoongi’s lullaby by @jiminrings f a (unrequited love friends to lovers soulmate au)

illicit favors by @yoongiofmine f s a (friends to lovers)

snow blanket by @yoonieper f s (friends to lovers)

a wager of lords & love @hisunshiine s (regency au arranged marriage)

an empty home by @7deadlysinsfics s a (arranged marriage) ft. Taehyung

the nanny diaries by @btsgotjams27 f (single mom roommate au)

the good part by @introlxv s (roommate au)

handyman by @borathae s a (rebound au roommate au)

peaches in bed by @/borathae s (domestic au husband au)

don't hold hands by @whatifyoulivelikethat s ( friends with benefits roommate au)

by the time i've figured out what it's worth by @ugh-yoongi f s a (marriage au)

swing life away by @aphrodijin f s a (marriage au)

the little things by @kth1 f s (boyfriend au)

fxck a fxckboy! by @yoongifis s (fuckboy)

cupid's curse by @ressjeon s a (first love au)

dawned in by @aquagustd f s (dilf yoongi)

bad things by @yoonia s a (escort au pining)

close call by @xjoonchildx (mafia au)

↬looking for other myg fics or the other bts members check out my library

6K notes · View notes

kingofbodyrolls · 3 months ago

Text

Friendcation (m) | myg | honeymoon special

You and Yoongi travel to Scandinavia for your honeymoon, well more like babymoon. You camp, fish, hike and enjoy nature as you always do, and you even go surfing!

→ Pairing: mechanic!Yoongi x reader (female) → AUs: roadtrip!au, non idol!au, established relationship, mechanic!Yoongi. → Genres: slice of life, humor/crack, smut and fluff → Rating: mature/explicit/R18 (this is mature/explicit content, so minors, please do not interact.) → Word count: 8.8k → Warnings (explicit): semi-public sex (in a caravan on a campsite), exhibitionism, unprotected sex, multiple orgasms, multiple sex scenes, nudity, oral (female and male receiving), breast play (sucking, slight biting), hickeys, squirting, deepthroating, creampie, impregnation kink, dirty talk, pleasing kink → Author’s note(1): another extra for friendcation is here! 🥳 I hope you enjoy this one too! 💜 → Read on AO3? [link] ✨

← previous | s.masterlist | m.masterlist | next (soon) →

When Yoongi revealed that he had already booked your honeymoon, you envisioned a sun-soaked paradise where you could bask in the golden warmth, bathe in crystal-clear waters, and revel in the essence of summer. But instead of tropical shores, you found yourself in the rugged mountains of Norway, on the cusp of autumn, where nature whispered secrets in the crisp, cool air. Yoongi had chosen this destination, a place forever etched in his heart from a trip with friends many years ago. He longed to share its raw, breathtaking beauty with you, and as you stood there, surrounded by towering peaks and pristine wilderness, you had to admit—the splendor was undeniable. Majestic mountains embraced the horizon, and the forest teemed with life—graceful deer gliding silently among the trees, playful squirrels darting about in a dance of their own.

For nearly a week, you nestled in a quaint cottage deep within the mountains, cocooned in the serene tranquility of nature. Each day, the world seemed to slow down, allowing you to savor every moment in this hidden paradise. But now, a new adventure beckons as your journey takes you onward to Denmark, with the enchanting landscapes of Sweden to explore first. The anticipation of Swedish forests, mirrored lakes, and ancient woodlands fills you with a quiet excitement, promising more adventures and moments of serene beauty.

The weather is a delicate dance between warm sunlight and the early September chill, hinting at the approach of autumn. Your journey from Norway to Sweden unfolds by bus, and upon arrival, a picturesque walk from the bus stop to your next secluded cottage awaits. The lightness of your luggage, carefully packed with warm clothes, turns the trek into an enjoyable prelude to the days ahead. You silently thank Yoongi for the foresight to pack hiking boots, as the rugged terrain tests your endurance. But the challenge is worth it, as each evening is rewarded with the simple pleasure of curling up in Yoongi’s arms, his hands soothing your tired feet as the day’s adventures fade into the warmth of the firelight.

In the Swedish cabin, time flows effortlessly, unburdened by the outside world. Yoongi, ever the thoughtful partner, prepares mouthwatering meals with ingredients fresh from the surrounding land, and with patient hands, he teaches you the art of fishing—a skill that had always eluded you on previous vacations. His steady guidance, coupled with whispered advice to remain silent, keeps the fish from fleeing, and you manage to catch a few, only to release them back into their watery home with a sense of reverence. Days are spent hiking the rolling hills and dense forests, each return to the cabin marked by the comforting embrace of each other’s arms, the crackle of the fire, and the soft murmur of the wilderness outside. Time slips away like water through your fingers, and before you know it, you’re packing for the next chapter of your journey.

The bus carries you southward, where a train awaits to whisk you to Denmark. There, just outside Copenhagen, you rent a car and a charming caravan trailer, your home on wheels for the next leg of your adventure. Denmark’s landscape, while familiar to Sweden’s, carries its own unique charm—its language more rough, its fields more open, a reminder that every place, like every person, has its own distinct personality.

Both you and Yoongi present your driver’s licenses, receive the keys, and locate your vehicles with the excitement of a new journey just beginning. Yoongi takes the wheel, his hands confidently guiding you northward to a place called Thy, a region he had spoken of with a quiet reverence. The local radio station fills the car with the lively tunes of Danish pop music, and as the road unfolds before you, a bridge rises to meet the horizon. You recline into your seat, lulled by the soothing rhythm of the road beneath you, when Yoongi mentions needing a break. He spots a rest stop, effortlessly maneuvering into a spacious parking area, and for a moment, the world outside pauses, allowing you both to take a breath and savor the journey that lies ahead.

Yoongi quickly exits, making a beeline for the restrooms, while you step out, stretching your limbs with a quiet sigh. The late hour casts a golden glow, the sun hanging low on the horizon, bathing the world in a warm, amber light that feels like a fleeting embrace. Around you, the scene is tranquil yet alive—lush green trees stand as silent sentinels, large trucks and trailers rest like sleeping giants, and an array of cars glimmer under the fading daylight. Your gaze drifts to a small store nearby, and you consider the idea of grabbing a meal, but something else catches your attention. A group of young men huddles around a car with its hood propped open, their faces etched with worry, a silent image of distress. Though the intricacies of engines elude you, Yoongi’s knack for mechanics brings a knowing smile to your lips. Almost as if sensing the moment, he appears beside you, his hand finding yours with effortless grace.

You gesture toward the troubled vehicle, your voice soft yet tinged with curiosity. “Do you think we should ask if they need help?”

Yoongi clears his throat, a quiet confidence in his nod, always eager to lend a hand when cars are involved. Together, you approach the trio and their ailing car, a shared purpose drawing you forward.

“Do you need help?” Yoongi asks in English, his voice carrying a note of calm assurance. Two of the young men exchange giggles, their reason a mystery, but the one peering under the hood turns to Yoongi with relief plain in his eyes. “Yeah. I don’t know what’s wrong with it.”

“I’m a mechanic. I don’t mind taking a look,” Yoongi replies, rolling up his sleeves to reveal his veined forearms, a sight that sends a flutter through your chest. “Babe, can you grab me a flashlight?” he asks, his voice gentle, and you’re quick to comply, retrieving it from the rental car. As the sun sinks lower, each sliver of light becomes precious, a fleeting gift for Yoongi’s hands to work by.

With the flashlight in hand, you stand close, watching Yoongi immerse himself in the task, his focus as sharp and radiant as the golden hour surrounding you both. His expertise becomes a quiet melody in the twilight, a dance of hands and metal that feels almost sacred in its simplicity.

“I’m Jonas, by the way. Thanks for looking at the car,” the young man says, stepping away to rejoin his laughing friends, a moment of lightness amidst their concern. You watch him playfully slap one of them on the arm, the sound of laughter briefly filling the air before your attention returns to Yoongi. You adjust the flashlight, its beam following the precise movements of his hands as he examines the engine. Yoongi lets out those soft, endearing noises he makes when deeply engrossed in a task, a habit he likely doesn’t even realize he has, but one that always stirs something deep within you. This moment is no different. Watching him work with such intensity sends warmth through you, a reminder of why you cherish these shared moments, even in the most unexpected places.

Grease begins to smudge his hands as he delves deeper under the hood, reattaching a loose valve and checking fluid levels with the practiced ease of someone who has spent years mastering his craft. Over time, you’ve absorbed a few of his car maintenance tips, knowledge passed on in quiet moments like these. Yoongi steps back from the car, a signal for you to turn off the flashlight, and you comply as Jonas, his brows knit with lingering concern, approaches to hear Yoongi’s verdict.

“I reattached a loose valve,” Yoongi explains, his tone measured and thoughtful, “and you’re low on radiator fluid. Be cautious when you drive; the car could overheat. You should refill it as soon as possible. Do you live nearby? It’s risky to drive far in this condition.”

The young man nods, gratitude and relief mingling in his expression. And as you stand there, bathed in the fading light, you can’t help but feel a quiet satisfaction in the simple act of helping, of being there in that moment with Yoongi, where the beauty of the setting sun is matched only by the warmth of his presence beside you.

Jonas nods, a wave of relief washing over his face. “We live close—we’re almost home. I’ll drive carefully and contact my mechanic tomorrow,” he says, offering a grateful smile. Yet, as his friends snicker behind him, their eyes linger on you with a gaze that feels like a brush of unwelcome heat, as if you’re some forbidden temptation. “Thank you so much for your help,” Jonas adds, shaking Yoongi’s hand with a vigor that speaks to his gratitude, pulling him into a spontaneous hug.

Yoongi returns the gesture with warmth, clearly pleased to have made a difference. As he walks back to you, you notice him wiping his greasy hands together in a futile attempt to clean them, a small smile playing on your lips at the sight.

You greet him with a smoldering gaze, wrapping your arms around his neck and pressing a kiss to his lips, a kiss that holds both affection and a touch of mischief. Are you putting on a show for the boys who ogled you earlier? Absolutely. As you pull away, you lean into his ear, your voice a whisper in English, “You always look so damn hot when you’re working. I can’t wait for you to fuck me later.” Your words are barely audible, yet you catch the sound of one of the guys choking in surprise, a wicked smile curling your lips as you take Yoongi’s hand. With a playful wave to the three gaping men, you turn and saunter back to your rental car, feeling Yoongi’s hand squeeze your ass with a low chuckle.

“You’re such a good and dirty girl,” he murmurs, his words a spark that sends warmth pooling in your core. His praise, his touch, his very presence—everything about him ignites the fire within you.

Slipping back into the car, Yoongi starts the engine, the soft rumble beneath you a prelude to the journey ahead. The night deepens as you drive, the world outside dissolving into shadows and starlight, the road a ribbon of dark velvet stretching toward the unknown. Hours later, you arrive at a quiet camping ground nestled in the northern wilderness. Yoongi picks a spot at random, the exhaustion of the day evident in the slump of your bodies. He parks and turns off the car, the silence of the night settling around you like a blanket.

Yoongi sets to work preparing the caravan, a compact haven of white and beige. Inside, it holds a tiny kitchen with a sink, fridge, and portable stove, a dining area that converts into a bed, bunks that will remain untouched, and a small bathroom. As he transforms the dining space into a bed, you slip out of your clothes and into one of his shirts, the familiar scent of him comforting against your skin. Yoongi follows suit, and after brushing your teeth together, you both crawl into bed, the weight of the day melting away in the warmth of each other’s presence.

He spoons you, his body pressing close, and you feel the unmistakable hardness against your ass, a thrill of desire sparking within you. Unable to resist, you grind back into him, eliciting quick, needy sounds that only fuel your own arousal. You turn to capture his lips in a kiss, your voice breathless as you whisper how much you need him.

Without a word, he turns you over, his hands deftly pulling down your panties and sliding his own underwear aside. The moment he enters you, a sigh escapes your lips, the smooth glide of him filling you completely, a perfect fit that sends waves of pleasure rippling through you. He moves with a rhythm that drives you wild, each thrust deeper, more urgent, as his hand finds your clit, pushing you ever closer to the edge. The pleasure builds, coiling tight within you until it snaps, your climax washing over you in a wave of pure ecstasy. He follows soon after, his warm release filling you as he grunts against your neck, pressing lazy kisses to your shoulder.

In the afterglow, he gently pulls your panties back up, his touch tender as you both settle into the bed, the night wrapping around you like a cocoon. Exhaustion pulls you under, and with the comforting weight of Yoongi beside you, you drift into a deep, contented sleep, the echoes of your shared passion lingering in the quiet night.

Morning breaks with the gentle chorus of birdsong and sunlight spilling into the caravan like liquid gold. You groan softly, stretching your limbs as Yoongi stirs beside you, his warmth anchoring you to the comfort of the moment. The new day whispers promises of fresh adventures, but for now, you linger in the serenity, savoring the feel of his body close to yours.

“Morning, babe,” he murmurs, his voice thick with the remnants of sleep, his hair tousled in a way that only adds to his effortless charm.

“Morning, Yoon,” you reply, your voice soft as you lean in to press a kiss to his lips, a gentle exchange of warmth before you rise to greet the day. The morning routine is simple and sweet—brushing teeth and hair, sharing a light breakfast—each small act grounding you in the shared rhythm of your lives.

Stepping outside, the landscape unfolds before you, vast and open, dotted with tufts of grass and stretches of sand. The air is brisk, carrying the salty tang of the sea and the constant, soothing lull of waves crashing against the distant shore. You inhale deeply, the cold, invigorating air filling your lungs as you take Yoongi’s hand, the two of you setting off to explore the campground, the natural beauty around you awakening with the first light of day. The world is still in its early stirrings, granting you a peaceful solitude, a shared quiet that feels almost sacred.

As you stroll, the calm is broken by the sight of an elderly couple walking past—naked. You exchange a startled glance with Yoongi, his expression mirroring your own surprise. The closer you draw to the beach, the more you realize that everyone around you is unabashedly bare, the air thick with a sense of freedom that feels, to you, both strange and out of place. Overdressed and bemused, you settle down on the sandy shore, leaning into Yoongi as you take in the unexpected scene.

“What is this place?” you murmur, half-amused, half-bewildered by the sight of naked bodies in every direction. Yoongi chuckles, pulling out his phone to solve the mystery. Moments later, his laughter bubbles up, contagious and bright.

“It’s a nudist campsite and beach,” he explains, his eyes sparkling with amusement as realization dawns on you. Laughter spills from your lips, a shared moment of levity in the midst of this peculiar discovery. There’s something admirable about the courage of those around you, their ease in embracing their natural state, even if it’s not a comfort you share. With a grin, you tell Yoongi that while you can appreciate their confidence, you’d much rather prefer a different campsite—one where the only naked body you see is his, perhaps later tonight.

The day unfolds in a series of light-hearted decisions and shared smiles. Later, you venture into the chilly embrace of the sea, donning your swimwear despite the nudist surroundings. The water is cold, biting against your skin, yet it awakens something within you—an invigorating contrast to the warmth of the morning, cleansing and bracing. Afterward, you drive into a nearby town for lunch, soaking in the lively atmosphere, the air filled with the hum of conversation and the sound of laughter. Hand in hand, you wander through quaint shops, not seeking anything in particular, but relishing the simple pleasure of being together.

The hours pass in a blend of humor and quiet adventure, each moment wrapped in the comfort of Yoongi’s presence. Together, you weave through the day, creating a tapestry of memories that feel destined to become cherished stories—reminders of the joy found in the unexpected, and the beauty of sharing life’s quirks with the one you love.

You return to the campsite, hitching the caravan back to the rental car, eager to find a new haven—a place where the landscape is as private as your desires. The drive is peaceful, the miles slipping away under a sky that deepens into twilight, leading you to a secluded campground far removed from the nudist site. As night falls, you settle into the quiet embrace of nature, the only witnesses to your evening the stars that begin to shimmer above.

Under a canopy of twinkling lights, you and Yoongi sit side by side on a pair of worn stools, warm cups of tea in hand. The night is cool, the air crisp, and the silence between you is companionable, filled with the unspoken understanding that comes from years of shared moments like this. The sky stretches out endlessly above, a vast canvas of dark velvet scattered with diamonds, and you both soak in its serene beauty, letting the tranquility of the moment wrap around you like a comforting blanket.

Later, you retreat to the warmth of your caravan, its small space transformed into a world of your own. Curled up in bed, you lean in for a kiss, the softness of his lips familiar yet always thrilling. Your fingers find the waistband of his boxers, and with a deliberate slowness, you peel them away, revealing his hard cock that you always crave. Your desire for him is insatiable, a fire that never dims, only burns hotter with each passing touch.

Wearing nothing beneath your nightshirt, your slick arousal greets him as you straddle his hips, a low moan escaping your lips as you grind down, the friction intoxicating. The rough texture of his pubic hair against your sensitive skin, the solid heat of his cock against your aching pussy—every sensation drives you wild, fueling the need that pulses through you.

Dripping with want, you wrap your hands around his thick dick, guiding him to your entrance, and with a slow, deliberate motion, you sink down onto him. The stretch is exquisite, your body accommodating him inch by inch until your ass meets his pelvis, the fullness making you gasp.

“Fuck, you’re always so big,” you pant, the words tumbling out as pleasure ripples through you, your head falling back in ecstasy.

His groan is guttural, raw, as his fingers dig into your hips, holding you in place. “You’re so fucking tight,” he growls, his breath hot against your skin, his need for you as urgent as yours for him. “Taking me so good, baby,” he rasps, already breathless, his voice a low rumble that sends shivers down your spine.

You hum in response, setting a steady rhythm as you begin to move, your hands splayed against his chest for balance. Leaning forward, you press kisses to his collarbones, his neck, your breath hitching as you whisper into his ear, “Get me pregnant, Yoon.”

You feel him twitch inside you, a reaction as instant as it is powerful, the mere idea pushing him closer to the edge. His grip tightens, possessive, and he begins to thrust up into you, his movements seeking control as he chases that intoxicating thought. His hips snap against yours with a newfound urgency, his pace relentless as he drives deeper, harder.

He holds you still as he pounds into your warm, wet heat, each thrust tearing a scream from your throat. You try to muffle your cries, aware of the thin caravan walls and the nearby campers, but the pleasure is overwhelming, consuming, and it’s impossible to stay quiet under his relentless onslaught.

Together, you find a rhythm, a perfect synchrony that sends you both hurtling toward the edge. He hits your g-spot with precision, over and over, until the coil in your stomach tightens to the point of breaking. With a choked cry, you unravel around him, your orgasm crashing over you in waves as your body releases a rush of liquid heat, soaking his cock as you convulse in his arms.

Panting, you cling to him, your body shuddering as he continues to move, his pace unyielding until you collapse against his chest, utterly spent. It’s more intimate like this, your bodies pressed close, and as you whisper filthy promises in his ear, nipping at his lobe, he comes inside you with a deep groan, filling you with his warmth as he grunts against your neck, his lips brushing your skin in lazy kisses.

You both gasp for breath, slick with sweat and the mingled scent of your lovemaking. He cleans you gently with a towel, his touch tender, before pulling you back into his arms. You drift off to sleep in his embrace, safe and sated, just as you love to.

The terrain here is gentler, the low elevations a welcome reprieve from the rugged mountains of Norway and Sweden. Your days have been spent in quiet contentment, the two of you fishing in the calm waters, the simplicity of the act bringing a sense of peace. Words aren’t needed in these moments, the silence speaking volumes as you sit side by side, casting lines and sharing smiles.

One day, you take a bus into Aarhus, the city buzzing with life on a cold Friday night. The decision to take public transport is an easy one—no need to worry about driving as you plan to indulge in the vibrant nightlife. The contrast between the quiet days spent in nature and the energy of the city is exhilarating, and you look forward to a night of laughter and exploration, knowing that whatever the evening holds, it will be another memory to cherish with Yoongi by your side.

You’re adorned in a flowing dress that sways with every step, its fabric catching the cool breeze of mid-September. Warm boots hug your feet, grounding you as you navigate the lively streets. Yoongi walks beside you, his own boots echoing softly against the cobblestones. He’s dressed in jeans, a fitted shirt, and a cozy jacket that accentuates his broad shoulders. You’re wrapped in a jacket too, its warmth a welcome shield against the evening chill that settles in like a whisper from autumn itself.

The streets pulse with life, alive with throngs of people—mostly the young and inebriated, their laughter loud and words slurred, their steps unsteady as they weave through the neon-lit night. You and Yoongi sip your drinks, savoring the night with a quiet restraint, the alcohol a gentle warmth rather than a dizzying rush. Neon signs bathe the street in a kaleidoscope of colors, each one calling out the names of bars and clubs, their music spilling into the air, a chaotic symphony of bass and beats.

You step into one of the clubs, but the moment you cross the threshold, the music hits you like a wave, overwhelming and disorienting. The crowd presses in, bodies moving in a fevered dance, leaving no room to breathe. You cringe as strangers brush against you, the invasion of your space unsettling. Yoongi’s discomfort mirrors your own, his eyes scanning the room with a protective edge.

Then, a rasping voice invades your ear, the breath hot and unwelcome. “Well, aren’t you a sweet thing,” the man sneers in English, his tone dripping with an arrogance that sends a shiver of unease down your spine. A hand suddenly grabs your ass, and you know instantly—it’s not Yoongi’s.

Anger flares in you, sharp and hot. With a swift, decisive motion, you swat the offending hand away, spinning to face the drunken stranger. His eyes are wide and unfocused, lost in a haze of alcohol. He leans in, but before he can get any closer, Yoongi steps between you, his presence a solid barrier, gently pushing the man back. The stranger grunts, his voice slurred and angry in a language you don’t understand.

Yoongi turns to you, concern etched in the lines of his face, his eyes searching yours for reassurance. You nod, signaling that you’re okay, but just as you turn to leave, a rough hand wraps around your wrist, pulling you back.

Yoongi’s reaction is immediate, but you step in front of him, a surge of determination coursing through you. The stranger’s grip tightens, but you seize his jaw with your free hand, your fingers digging in with a strength born of irritation. You stare into his startled eyes, your voice low and laced with venom. “I don’t appreciate that,” you hiss, each word deliberate. “I’m happily married, and I don’t want you touching me.”

The force in your grip makes him wince, and he releases your wrist, his bravado crumbling as regret flickers across his face. “Fuck. I’m sorry,” he mumbles, the fight leaving him.

You push him back, asserting your anger one final time before turning away, not wasting another second on him. Grabbing Yoongi’s hand, you pull him toward the exit, the need to escape the stifling club overwhelming. Outside, the cold night air fills your lungs, sharp and cleansing, each breath forming small clouds in the chilly atmosphere. The tension begins to melt away, and you savor the fresh, crisp night, grateful for the comforting presence of Yoongi at your side, his warmth a constant reassurance.

“That was kinda hot,” he murmurs, his voice low as he presses his body against yours, the heat of him seeping into your skin. “The way you handled yourself in there, babe.” His lips brush the sensitive skin of your neck, sending shivers down your spine that have nothing to do with the cold.

“Thanks,” you reply, your voice still carrying the edge of disgust from the stranger’s touch. “But it was disgusting. His hands on my ass.”

Yoongi hums in sympathy, his grip on your hand tightening as if to ground you both. “I don’t like other people touching you like that,” he says, his voice filled with a protective anger. “I’m sorry that happened,” he says in a much softer voice, making sure you’re okay.

You chuckle softly, the sound carrying a hint of relief. “Yeah. I know you’re possessive, Yoon.”

“If we’d stayed there a moment longer, I would’ve decked him,” he huffs, the street lamps casting a warm, golden glow on the sidewalk as you walk.

“Oh, I know. But I don’t want you getting arrested in another country—or back home, for that matter,” you laugh lightly, the tension easing from your shoulders. “I had it under control. But thank you for having my back.” You lean in to kiss his cheek, the gesture soft and intimate, and just then, you arrive at the bus station.

The cold air bites at your skin, making you shiver as you wait. Relief washes over you as the bus finally arrives, its doors opening to reveal a sanctuary of warmth. You step inside, the chill of the night giving way to the cozy embrace of heated air. Settling into a seat, you lean against Yoongi’s shoulder, the comfort of his presence grounding you.

“Maybe we’re too old to drink and party,” you muse, your voice a soft murmur that mingles with the hum of the bus.

Yoongi’s laugh is like a melody, soothing and familiar, a sound that feels like home. “Maybe,” he agrees, a teasing glint in his eyes.

“You’re an old man now,” you quip, playfully squeezing his thigh, feeling the solid muscle beneath.

“Hey,” he retorts, mock indignation coloring his tone, “you’re not much younger than me.”

Laughter bubbles up between you, the shared humor easing the tensions of the night. It’s a moment of pure, unfiltered joy, the kind that lingers long after the sound fades.

Back at the caravan, the atmosphere shifts, the night thick with anticipation. A surge of power and desire courses through you, igniting a fire that demands to be quenched. Seizing Yoongi’s jaw with the same assertiveness you’d shown the stranger earlier, you back him against the wall. Your gaze locks onto his, a silent command that he’s all too eager to obey.

With a teasing smile, you lick his chin, tasting the salt of his skin. “I want you, Yoon,” you whisper, your voice a sultry purr that sends shivers down his spine.

His breath hitches, the sound rough and needy. His eyes, darkened with lust, never leave yours as you tighten your grip on his jaw. “I want your tongue on my clit,” you command, the words slipping from your lips like a sinful prayer.

He gulps, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows hard.

“Now,” you add, your voice brooking no argument.

Yoongi doesn’t need to be told twice. He drops to his knees with a reverence that makes your heart race, his hands sliding up your thighs to hike up your dress. The fabric pools around your waist as he tugs down your panties, his breath warm against your bare skin. You giggle in anticipation, the sound light and breathless.

He teases you first, a slow lick that sends sparks of pleasure through your body, followed by a gentle suck that makes you gasp. But then, with a playful glint in his eyes, he spins you around, your legs hitting the bed. You fall onto it with a soft thud, a surprised laugh escaping your lips. Yoongi chuckles darkly, crawling over you like a predator about to claim his prey.

He spreads your legs, the cool air brushing against your slick heat. And then he’s on you, his mouth finding your clit with a precision that makes your toes curl. His plush tongue licks and sucks, each movement sending you higher, closer to the edge. Your hands tangle in his hair, pulling him closer as you grind against his mouth, chasing the orgasm that looms just out of reach.

“Fuck, Yoongi,” you pant, your voice a breathless plea as pleasure builds within you, sharp and relentless.

He slurps, the sound obscene and utterly delicious. When you glance down, the sight of him between your legs—his face glistening with your arousal, his eyes alight with desire—undoes you completely. You come apart with a cry, your body trembling as the orgasm crashes over you like a tidal wave. Your grip tightens in his hair, holding him to you as he licks you through the aftershocks, his tongue slow and sensual.

When you finally signal it’s enough, he pulls back, his face shining with your essence, drops of it splattered across his cheeks and lips. He looks so fucking hot, and he’s yours—your husband, your love, your everything. The thought swells in your chest, your heart beating a wild rhythm of adoration.

“You’re so hot when you squirt on my face,” he says, his voice husky with satisfaction as he sticks out his tongue to lick at the drops he can reach. The sight makes your pussy flutter with renewed arousal.

“Fuck,” you moan, the need rising in you again. “I want to suck your dick so bad,” you groan, your voice laced with a desperate, aching need.

Yoongi chuckles, a low, rich sound as he stands and begins to undress completely. You watch him, your eyes drinking in every inch of his body, from the strength in his shoulders to the ridges of muscle that ripple under his skin. He’s a vision, raw and powerful, and the sight of him makes your mouth water.

With a look of pure desire, you drop to your knees before him. His hand finds your jaw, his thumb brushing across your cheek with a tenderness that contrasts with the heat in his eyes. “You look so beautiful. Always,” he murmurs, his voice filled with reverence.

His praise sends a thrill through you, your body responding to the way he worships you with his words and his touch. Humming in appreciation, you reach out to grasp his cock, your hand soft as it glides along his length. Precum beads at the tip, slicking your palm as you stroke him.

You stick your tongue out, gathering saliva before you engulf him in the warmth of your mouth. You suck him like a piece of candy, savoring the taste of him, focusing on the sensitive frenulum and the head of his cock.

His hands land on your head, his fingers threading through your hair as he grunts in need. “Fuck,” he pants, his cock twitching in your mouth as you work him over with slow, deliberate movements.

You begin to hum, the vibrations sending shivers of pleasure down his length. You love watching him unravel before you, his control slipping as you bring him closer and closer to the edge. His breaths come faster, his grip tightening in your hair as you take him deeper, your mouth a hot, wet haven that he never wants to leave.

“Babe,” he warns, his voice taut with anticipation, a delicious strain that sends shivers down your spine. He’s closer than you anticipated, but you don’t relent. You want to push him over the edge, to taste his release. He tries to pull you off, his hands trembling, but you bat them away with a determined swat, drawing him closer, deeper. Without intending to, you deepthroat him, and his resistance melts into a soft moan, his legs buckling beneath the weight of his pleasure.

You steady your breath, fighting your gag reflex as you close your eyes and do it again, taking him in as deep as you can, your throat tightening around him. Your free hand moves to his balls, feeling the tension there, the tightness that signals just how close he is. A deep, primal groan escapes you as you pull off with a wet pop, only to engulf him again, your pace quickening with purpose.

You can hear it in his voice, the way he moans your name, each syllable a testament to how close he is to unraveling. His breath comes in ragged gasps, his body trembling with the effort to hold back, but you don’t give him that luxury. You push him closer, until, with a broken cry of your name, he spills into your mouth, the warm, salty liquid hitting your tongue in waves.

You watch his face contort in pure ecstasy, every line and shadow a portrait of his pleasure. When he’s spent, you swallow with a satisfied hum, pressing a teasing kiss to the sensitive tip of his cock, making him shudder with the aftershocks of bliss.

Panting, he runs a hand through his tousled hair, still trying to catch his breath. “You know,” he says, his voice still thick with pleasure, “you’re never gonna get pregnant if I come in your mouth.”

You giggle, a light, airy sound that cuts through the lingering heat between you. “Maybe not,” you concede, “but I love this too, you know. And we should have fun while we try.” You glance down, watching as he slowly softens, your heart swelling with affection for him. Leaning up, you capture his lips in a hungry kiss, pulling him down onto the bed where you eventually drift off to sleep, wrapped in the warmth of each other.

A few days later, a strange ache tugs at your stomach, a sensation that’s unfamiliar, different from the usual pangs of your period. You brush it aside, though, too excited about the day ahead. Today, you and Yoongi are going surfing in a place known as ‘Cold Hawaii’, a name that hints at both adventure and the chill that comes with it. Neither of you knows how to surf, but that’s part of the thrill. You’re determined to make the most of it.

You head to a surf shop called ‘West Wind’, the air bristling with the energy of the ocean and the people who live for it. The shop is alive with the scent of saltwater and waxed boards, the sound of wetsuits being zipped up, and the murmur of excited voices. You rent surfboards and wetsuits, changing in nearby stalls, and then you’re off to the sea, the brisk air nipping at your cheeks, but the excitement in your veins keeps you warm.

The beach is a hive of activity, surfers riding the waves with effortless grace, their movements fluid and synchronized with the rhythm of the sea. Your instructor, a local with a laid-back demeanor, walks you through the basics: how to balance, where to place your feet. He makes it seem so simple, so intuitive, but you know it’s anything but.

When the time comes, you lie chest-down on the board, the cold water lapping at your sides as you wait for the right wave. The instructor’s voice guides you, telling you when to paddle, when to pop up. But it’s harder than it looks. Your first few attempts are clumsy, your legs wobbling as you try to stand, only to topple back into the water with a splash. You can’t help but laugh, the sound bright and carefree, mingling with the roar of the waves.

Yoongi, with his natural grace, seems to get the hang of it quicker. You watch in admiration as he balances perfectly on the board, his posture steady, his movements controlled. But just as you think he’s got it, he loses his balance and tumbles into the water, disappearing beneath the surface for a moment before popping back up, his black hair plastered to his face, a sheepish grin tugging at his lips.

You burst out laughing at the sight, the sound of your mirth carrying over the waves. Even the instructor joins in, chuckling at Yoongi’s comical fall. “That was actually good,” he says encouragingly, his tone warm and supportive. “You should both try again.”

Yoongi moves with an effortless grace, a natural on the board, and you can’t help but scuff lightly, rolling your eyes as you watch him balance perfectly, riding the waves as if he were born to them. His ease draws the instructor’s attention more towards you, his voice a steady mantra in your ear, urging you to paddle, paddle, paddle as the wave swells behind you, to pop up and find your balance before the ocean has a chance to pull you under.

You give it your all, and for one brief, glorious moment, you actually manage to stand, your feet finding purchase on the slick surface of the board. But the victory is fleeting; your balance falters so quickly it feels like whiplash, and the next thing you know, you’re crashing into the water, its cold embrace hitting your face hard. Your palms scrape the sandy bottom, and you sputter, your mouth and nose filled with the sting of salty water. The instructor isn’t fazed in the least, his calm demeanor a testament to his experience, and you tell yourself it’s okay—this is so much harder than it looks.

But you’re determined, your resolve like the tide itself, unwavering and persistent. Again and again, you try, each fall more bruising than the last, the surfboard sometimes feeling like it has a vendetta against you. Yet every time you’re knocked down, you get back up, driven by the desire to conquer at least one wave. Yoongi’s big, beaming smile tells you he’s loving every minute of this, his joy infectious even as you struggle.

“Just try again,” the instructor encourages, his tone unwavering, and you do, despite the toll it’s taking on your body. Your muscles ache, sore from the relentless attempts, and a small part of you wonders how long you’ve been at this. Time feels fluid out here, with the waves as your only measure.

Thankfully, the leash tethering you to the board spares you the task of chasing it down after each tumble, a small mercy in the midst of the challenge. You huff out a breath, catching Yoongi’s comforting gaze, his look of support giving you the strength to try once more.

Lying chest down on the board, you let the water cradle you, feeling the swell of a wave approaching. You paddle with renewed determination, and as the wave lifts you, you pop up, finding your balance. This time, you manage to stand, your feet steady beneath you, and the sensation is nothing short of euphoric. A giddy laugh bubbles up from your chest as you ride the wave, a wide smile splitting your face. “Look! I’m doing it!”

And then, inevitably, you hit the water face-first. But when you surface, it’s with a laugh of pure, unbridled joy. You’ve done it. After countless attempts, after losing track of how many times you’ve tried, you finally rode the wave, if only for a moment. And when you see the pride shining in Yoongi’s eyes, your heart swells with a happiness that makes every fall worth it.

Later, after drying off, you treat yourselves to ice cream, savoring the sweet, cold treat as you sit on the beach, wrapped in your warm jackets. The air is crisp, but the warmth between you is enough to keep the chill at bay. You walk hand in hand back to the caravan, the soft crunch of sand beneath your boots, noticing how many other caravans dot the campground. It’s a bustling scene, alive with the laughter of children running and playing, their joy infectious.

As you watch them, your heart warms, and you can’t help but wonder what it will be like when you have kids of your own. The thought lingers, sweet and tender, like the promise of more beautiful moments to come.

“My feet are so sore, Yoon,” you lament, the weight of the day heavy in each step as you both drag your tired bodies back to the warmth of the caravan.

“Mine too,” he admits with a playful lilt in his voice. “How about we give each other a massage?” The suggestion, though innocent in words, carries a hint of something more, and you feel the familiar embers of desire flicker to life within you.

“Yes, please,” you breathe, your words a soft cloud in the crisp night air. The thought of your hands on him, of his hands on you, sends a thrill through your weary body. You can’t wait to get inside, to feel his touch, to see where this simple act of care will lead.

Once inside, you kick off your shoes with a sigh of relief, the warmth of the caravan wrapping around you like a comforting embrace. You share a quick bite, the soft glow of Yoongi’s phone casting shadows across your faces as something plays in the background, though neither of you pays much attention. It’s just a quiet moment, a pause before the real focus begins.

Settling onto the bed, you both sit up, peeling off your socks with a mix of anticipation and fatigue. The first touch of his hands on your feet makes you release a needy sound, the soreness easing under his skilled fingers. Yoongi lets out a similar groan as you knead the tension from his feet, and the shared intimacy sends a wave of warmth straight to your core.

“This has been a wonderful honeymoon, Yoon,” you murmur, your breath a little unsteady as your fingers dig into the arch of his foot.

He hums in response, pleased and content, his eyes closing briefly before he looks at you, love shining in his gaze. “I’m so happy to hear that. You thought we were going someplace exotic, didn’t you?” He chuckles, pulling his foot back for a moment, ticklish under your touch, but then quickly offers it again, craving the comfort of your hands.

“Yeah, I really did,” you admit, smiling at him. “But this has been so lovely. Thank you.” There’s a softness in your voice, a gratitude that comes from the heart.

“I love you,” you say, the words slipping out easily, a simple truth between you.

“I love you too,” he replies, his voice filled with warmth as he grabs your other foot. The touch of his calloused fingers on your tender skin draws a moan from your lips, your body responding instinctively to his care.

The atmosphere shifts, the once innocent massage now tinged with an undercurrent of desire. Your bodies are tired, but the need simmering between you is undeniable. His eyes darken with hunger as he watches you, and the heat in your core intensifies. Letting go of his foot, you crawl toward him, your lips seeking his in a deep, hungry kiss. Your tongues meet in a dance of passion, and your hands move with urgency, tugging at his clothes, helping him shed his shirt, his warmth pressing against you.

You make quick work of his pants, and he follows suit with yours, leaving you both in nothing but your underwear. The kiss deepens, your lips trailing down his body, tasting the salt of his skin. His hands move over you, and you tremble as he pulls your panties off, the cool air brushing against your wetness, sending shivers down your spine.

Yoongi discards his boxers, his arousal evident, and your body quivers with the need to feel him inside you. He pulls you close, removing your bra with practiced ease, your breasts spilling free. His gaze lingers, filled with lust and love, before he leans down, his lips closing around a nipple. The warmth of his mouth, the swirl of his tongue, sends a jolt of pleasure through you, making your back arch off the bed.

“Yoongi,” you pant, your voice thick with desire as he tends to your other breast, his hand teasing and pulling at your nipple, sending sparks of heat to your pussy.

Your chest heaves with each breath, your body alive under his touch, every nerve ending ignited. His mouth moves from one nipple to the other, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin, and you tug at his hair, urging him closer, deeper.

“Fuck, Yoongi!” you cry out, the pleasure building to a fever pitch as he alternates between your breasts, his fingers and mouth working in tandem to push you over the edge. You could come just from this, and it wouldn’t be the first time. There’s no embarrassment, just raw desire.

“I’m—,” you moan as your orgasm hits you like a freight train, arching your back into his face as you come undone. Your back arches, your body trembling as you come undone beneath him, his name a breathless whisper on your lips as the world fades away, leaving only the two of you in the aftermath of bliss.

A sudden knock on the door steals the breath from your lungs, and you freeze, eyes wide with shock. The intimacy of the moment shatters like fragile glass, and Yoongi, just as startled, pulls away. Instinctively, you reach for him, not wanting the spell to break, your heart pounding like a wild drum in your chest.

But Yoongi, ever the calm in your storm, quickly grabs a towel and wraps it around his waist. The distance between you feels like a chasm as he opens the door, while you remain on the bed, flushed and breathless, your chest heaving, still glistening with the remnants of his kiss.

“Hi,” comes the low murmur of a man’s voice, intruding into your world as Yoongi runs a hand through his tousled hair, trying to steady his breath.

“I’m sorry to disturb you,” the man continues, his tone polite yet firm, “but could you keep it down? My kids are trying to sleep, and it’s getting a bit loud.”

Each word lands like a stone, sinking into the pit of your stomach as mortification blooms within you. The realization that your passion had spilled beyond the walls of your private sanctuary makes you wish the earth would swallow you whole.

“Shit. We’re so sorry,” Yoongi replies, his voice steady and apologetic as he bows slightly, the English words rolling off his tongue with ease. “We’ll be quieter. Sorry again.” With that, he closes the door, and the world narrows back down to just the two of you. For a moment, you just stare at each other, and the air feels thick with unspoken tension and embarrassment. Your breathing is still quick and you feel like you want to disappear, but Yoongi’s eyes ground you, and his soft smile lets you know it’s okay. The silence is stretching on, until Yoongi bursts out laughing, showing his perfect gums, which in turn makes you laugh too. Suddenly, you don’t feel so embarrassed, the laughter making way for the absurdity of the situation to dissipate a bit, and you just giggle, the atmosphere contagious.

He crosses the short distance to the bed, a smirk playing on his lips as he looks down at you, eyes glinting with mischief. “I’d suggest stuffing your mouth with my cock to keep you quiet,” he says, voice a low rumble that sends a shiver down your spine. You barely catch your breath as he adds, “But if you want to get pregnant this cycle, it needs to be in your vagina.”

His words set your heart racing anew, desire pooling hot and urgent within you. You stare at him, feeling the wetness between your thighs grow, your body responding to his every word.

“You’re ovulating, right?” he asks, his voice teasing, but there’s a serious edge to his gaze.

You blink, the realization dawning like a slow sunrise. The ache in your stomach—it all makes sense. “I think I am, yeah,” you murmur, your voice trembling with anticipation.

A devilish smile spreads across his face. “Well,” he clicks his tongue, his eyes darkening with intent, “then I’m going to fuck you, but you’ll have to be silent. There are people sleeping.”

You nod, breath hitching as the room seems to shrink around the two of you.

With a practiced ease, Yoongi discards the towel and returns to the bed, his presence overwhelming as he hovers over you, still hard and ready. He takes himself in hand, giving a few slow pumps before his fingers find your wetness. “You’re so wet,” he murmurs, his voice thick with approval. “Bet I’ll slide right in.”

You bite your lip, suppressing a moan, knowing he’s right.

He aligns himself with your entrance, and with a smooth, unhurried thrust, he’s inside you, filling you completely. The pleasure is instant and intense, but you remember the man’s words, biting into Yoongi’s discarded shirt to stifle your cries.

“Fuck, that’s hot,” Yoongi rasps, his voice strained with the effort of keeping quiet as he begins to move, his pace steady and deep. The sound of your bodies meeting, slick and needy, fills the small caravan, mingling with the quiet grunts and whispered breaths.

With strong hands, he grips your thighs, spreading them wide and lifting them onto his shoulders. His thrusts quicken, each one bringing you closer to the edge, his breath coming in harsh pants as he fights to keep his own volume down.

“This pussy,” he whispers, his voice reverent as he pulls one leg down to reach between your bodies. His fingers find your clit, already swollen and sensitive, and he circles it with expert precision. “It’s mine, and it’s so gorgeous.”

Your vision blurs, your body trembling as a new wave of pleasure builds deep inside. You mumble incoherently into the shirt, but it doesn’t matter—Yoongi knows you’re close, can feel it in the way your walls clench around him.

He keeps his rhythm steady, his fingers teasing your clit while his cock hits that perfect spot inside you. The tension coils tighter and tighter until, with a final, whispered plea of his name, you unravel completely, your orgasm crashing over you like a tidal wave. Your body spasms, and you push the shirt out of your mouth, gasping for air as you whisper his name, the sound broken and desperate.

“Fuck, babe,” Yoongi groans, his pace faltering as he chases his own release. The way your body grips him, the way you moan his name—it’s too much. With a low growl, he thrusts deep one last time, his cock throbbing as he spills into you, warmth flooding your walls as he pants your name.

The world narrows to the feeling of him, the heat of his body pressed against yours as he collapses on top of you, both of you breathless and sated. You don’t mind the weight of him, your arms wrapping around his back as you press a tender kiss to his temple.

“I can’t wait to have a baby with you,” he whispers against your skin, his voice soft and filled with love.

“I can’t wait either,” you reply, your voice equally tender as you kiss him again, pouring all the love and gratitude you feel into that simple, sweet gesture.

Taglist: @idkjustlovingbts@constancelayon@wobblewobble822@ktownshizzle@moonchild1 @ultimatefangirl0 @baechugff @jimintaemin @parapiop7 @fckkntired @iluvfndms @citypop-princess @tarahardcore @bergandysam @massivelyfullenthusiast @tatyhend @gimeow @jeonsbabygirlsworld

*I don't know why the fuck the taglist doesn't want to work anymore T_T I hope you all find it anyway!

Author’s note(2): I really hope you liked it! I have two more extras planned for this series and they’re coming soon! Please let me know in a comment, reblog or ask what you liked 💜 And please, remember it’s just fiction.

326 notes · View notes

helenazbmrskai · 8 months ago

Text

Guide on how to not marry the Northern Duke. [1/2]

Title [Guide on how to not marry the Northern Duke.]

Pairing [Northen Duke! Yoongi x Reincarnated! Reader]

Genre [Fantasy Romance, Reincarnation, World in a novel AU, future smut and angst]

Summary [You need to make an elaborate plan so you can avoid your impending death at the hands of your favourite character so you can’t just sit around and wait for something to happen – no matter how distraught you wake up one day in an unfamiliar bed.]

Words [11,5k ; part 1 out of 2]

Warnings [mistreatment and negligence, period drama, slow burn, mention of blood and drugs, tiny sexual tension]

Rating [+18 overall but this part is a tame +14]

A/N: Guess who’s back again? ME. I’ve been working on this for a lot and I know I already have a similar story on going but I just couldn’t get over this idea in my head. So enjoy! And as always excuse me for the typos.

Masterlist // part 2 (end) // I don't do tag lists anymore I'm sorry!

Every story needs a good start, and this one starts now with an old tale, much older than you.

There’s an ancient fairytale that tells you about the funding of the Empire and it all starts when God left.

Tired of human foolishness and deeply rooted malice he left the world he created to turn around its axis and burn down on its own; famine started to scavenge the continent as war broke out in every corner of the human world. Each kingdom perished one by one until only one was left.

It seemed like humanity would be wiped out permanently in no time but then just when they all thought there was no turning back, a saintess appeared among the rest and divided the continent into four regions with the help of the received divine power. That’s the birth of the empire’s central city where the empress Hyeri ruled over the four divided territories.

To prevent war from breaking out again the saintess turned to the heavens and pleaded while crying out to their maker and hearing her prayers the God who left decided to give them one last chance at redemption seeing the pure heart in front of him.

That’s when the holy prophecy was made.

Each chosen duke was granted unique powers to rule over their territories. However great powers come with great responsibilities. In the end, there’s always a price to pay but that’s the tale of another story.

This is how peace finally settled over the world once more. In exchange for the powers, the dukes wrote a blood oath that prevented them from stealing each other’s powers or waging unnecessary war. However just like every pact it wasn’t perfect. Loopholes could be taken advantage of but momentarily peace was forged.

This is the short version of the founding tale of the originated Kingdom that was taught to the people of the empire throughout generations. You particularly remember these starting lines from the novel you read in your previous life. The introduction is something you often skip through but thankfully you didn’t do that with this one.

The four families who inherited great power were Kim, Jung, Min and Jeon. When you first read the story introduction you thought that it’s quite lame and generic to base the family's attributes on the four seasons. However, seeing one of the duke’s illustrations you decided to read it all.

When choosing a book to read you only pay attention to the hotties. In this case, it wasn’t any different either.

A mysterious and cold duke of the north is something that a girl cannot ignore to save her life.

Each duke possesses an artefact which comes in the form of a ring and different precious gemstones that fit into the depression are named after the four seasons using a dead language.

Nix - means snow, which makes the wearer the lord of winter. The most handsome guy throughout the entire book in your opinion. Next, Saltus - translates to forest which is the symbol of spring. Umbra is shade and Calor is heat. The last remaining ones are autumn and summer. Each duke is the epitome of beauty, and their descendants are no exception.

This is a fantasy romance novel you read before you died in a sudden hit and run accident.

The original story is about an orphan girl Hyo who is the lost daughter of the king. After she’s found – the plot starts as she meets the four archdukes at the annual imperial ball and falls in love with the lord of Spring. Kim Taehyung. A handsome man with good manners and unmatched beauty as he’s described in the book. She’s captured by one look of the male lead’s brown eyes and shiny blond curly hair. Despite their fairytale-like first meeting, their love is not exempt from hardships. Their first obstacle is the villainess Kim Y/N who falls in love with Taehyung at first sight at the same ball and sets her eyes on marrying him but in the end, she fails to murder Hyo and gets beheaded by the second male lead Min Yoongi as an imperial order.

Hyo and Taehyung then live happily ever after and the novel ‘Flowers bloom in the heart of the Lost Princess’ ends there.

You see, dying a second time is not an option even if the one you possessed is Y/N.

You need to make an elaborate plan so you can avoid your impending death by the hands of your favourite character so you can’t just sit around and wait for something to happen – no matter how distraught you wake up one day in an unfamiliar bed.

Even though there’s no chance you will fall in love with the Duke of Spring like in the original novel – things can still go wrong if you make changes in the natural flow of the story, so you need to think this through carefully. You need to think about the plot holes and that the characters you see can be different from what you read in the book as that only tells you one side of the story.

The first thing you need to change gradually is the way the servants and the Duke see you.

The first week when you reincarnated as Y/N you spent your days with a high fever bedridden, you’re not sure if the pain came from the strain of absorbing the real Y/N’s memories or if something else is behind it. Your health is very poor as your medical history suggested, but you get accustomed to the villainess' body step by step. After another week your probation ended so you were able to leave the estate freely again. There were days when sudden headaches interrupted your day and, in the morning, you often coughed up blood.

You ignored it at first because the symptoms seemed to get better with time, and you had no way of knowing if it was normal. You didn’t ask in case someone found it suspicious. The most important thing right now is that you need to focus on staying alive and avoiding your death at the end of this novel – this is what you thought without knowing anything at that time.

As the plot thickens when you least expect it.

It’s not just your weird health conditions your head hurts just from thinking about the actions of the real owner of this body.

You just can’t grasp why a beautiful woman like Y/N would do those cruel things when she has everything she could’ve asked for. She’s a rich girl born with a golden spoon in her mouth, and she gets crazy just because she can’t have a man. It feels unnatural. If someone asks you to choose between life and a man you would choose life without hesitation.

You can have another man but not another life. Er, well – in your case, you do get another one thought but that’s beside the point.

Even before that incident happened with the female lead, she had a terrible reputation among the nobles.

Well – you can’t do anything if you’re not well rested so you will just think about this a bit later. You can’t possibly pull another all-nighter to study how this novel works. You close your eyes to finally get some shut eye when some woman barges into your room without knocking forcefully parting your curtains to let the early rays of sunshine in. The sound of her voice makes you freeze. This uncomfortable feeling suddenly ripped through your body as if a pile of rocks were sitting on your chest not letting you breathe. While you gained some of Y/N’s memories there are still holes in those fragments that you’re unsure of. However, her feelings are so intense sometimes that your body reacts like clockwork.

What you feel after hearing her voice is sheer terror. Who is this woman that even a villainess like Y/N is even afraid of? You can’t open your eyes as if your body is doing it unconsciously, unmoving like a doll to protect itself. Someone is coming closer.

You feel a prick on your forearm and your eyes fly open due to the pain. Her name appears in your mind as soon as you see her face and some of Y/N’s memories flood your head regarding that nasty woman. She triggers something dark in your eyes to appear.

Your nanny, Biwon.

“Wake up. Are you planning to sleep till the afternoon?” Biwon lets out a fake troubled sigh and her eyes are full of arrogance when you meet them you freeze completely at the sight.

“I’m sorry nanny.” Your mouth moves on its own like a broken record. It feels like this is not the first time she wakes Y/N up with a prick of a needle and the apology comes to her like second nature. Y/N’s attitude shows all kinds of trauma of being abused. How is it that this was never mentioned in the novel? While not much was mentioned about how she grew up you would think this is a piece of important information to have.

“Wash your face the duke requested to have breakfast with you for some reason.” She left without giving you any kind of assistance like a maid should do. At last, the water in the basin is ice cold to the touch and murky it manages to wake you up completely from shock.

You’re not just imagining it. Biwon has complete power over Y/N even though she’s the lady of the house.

You knew that the other maids avoided Y/N because of her temperament but to think that she’s been through manipulation and abuse by someone so close to her. Because Biwon is the one who spent the most time next to Y/N ever since she was a child everyone buys her lies. No one pays attention to Y/N, not her father or her brother.

She has no one to rely on in this household.

Biwon deliberately made her isolated in her own home so she could control and exploit her. Her malicious plan is clear to you after observing the situation objectively. What else is there that was not mentioned in the novel? Things might be more complicated than you thought.

However, this is not the time to ponder over this. You need to get ready alone. It didn’t take you long to realise Biwon forbids the maids from helping you so you can embarrass yourself in front of your family. While the real Y/N would have problems with getting dressed and being presentable without help as she’s a noble – there’s one tiny fault in your nanny’s plan – that she has no idea that you’re a modern woman who can wear her own fucking dress and get ready all by herself. She has a lot of extravagant dresses, so you had a hard time choosing but then something caught your eye. This dress has been buried deep in your wardrobe, a solid light cream-coloured dress with an elegant bow in the front. This is the perfect dress.

You do light makeup to match the dress and leave your long hair down after brushing it. While you were getting dressed you saw the countless bruises on your skin and your right arm was full of holes from the needle your nanny used to stab you with to wake you up. It’s good that the dress is long-sleeved. There’s no way the maids don’t know about your abuse since they bathe you. So, your guess is they are either the nanny’s people or they just simply don’t care enough to tell the duke. It’s clear the duke doesn’t care about Y/N so it wouldn’t benefit them to tell him when they could face the wrath of your nanny if she finds out. They think he wouldn’t do anything about it, and you think so too.

You feel compassion for Y/N. She was made to be a villain even if it doesn’t excuse her actions in the end. It’s only been two weeks for you, but she had to endure this for a lifetime.

You’re determined to change her future even more now that you know the truth. You’re going to live for her as well.

Opening the door to your room you find a maid waiting for you to lead you to the dining room as per the duke’s request. She looks taken aback by your neat appearance but doesn’t say anything and just shows you the way.

She dares to walk ahead of you. Even if you want to give her a piece of your mind you hold yourself back, you can’t afford to create a ruckus and be sent back to probation. It’s not that you care about who walks in front of you it’s the meaning of this action that angers you.

You hold back by creating a fist the pain of your nails digging into your palms in half-moon shapes keeps your head clear and controls your bubbling rage. You’re going to show everyone how Y/N won’t bow down anymore. You’re not a doormat that everyone can just walk over.

You’re not going to let everyone disrespect you ever again but to achieve that you need to make a plan and be more patient.

First thing first you need to make the duke care about you to an extent so he will listen to you. Good thing that you know the novel. You might be able to use that information to get what you want. You’re not going to make him like you, you just need to be useful for him to look at you. You’re not sure he would be even capable of liking you in the first place – not that you would want that after he neglected Y/N like that. Talk about loving family, this is just another example of being blood-related sometimes does not matter.

It's not like he’s your real dad anyway.

The dining room is just as fancy as the rest of the mansion. By the time you arrive the duke and your brother are already seated and chatting. The duke is sitting at the head of the table and Seokjin is sitting on his right.

Your tableware is set away from them probably a scheme made by your nanny to keep you isolated.

She must be afraid of why the duke suddenly wanted to dine with you when he usually never bothers to see you. You can’t let this golden opportunity pass like that. You’re going to make the most of it.

“Good morning, Father, Brother. Sorry for being late.” You give them a little courtesy. You’re careful to get your posture nice and graceful like you read in the etiquette book. The nanny purposefully discouraged the young Y/N to skip classes and remain a dumb doll for her to exploit but you’re not going to let her continue to do that.

While your posture is not perfect this will at least show that you’re trying to be as polite as possible.

You stayed up all night for an entire week to study about this new world’s etiquette and history to play your part more convincingly who knew that your knowledge would come in handy in a situation like this? You’re thankful that you decided to study even before you realised the nanny’s schemes.

You school your features to remain passive as you look at the grand duke’s and your brother’s dumb expressive faces. It looks like they are seeing a ghost. Even though you’re annoyed to be bent like that you keep the position until you receive the acknowledgement like a lady should. How annoying that you must bow like that until you are recognised by a man.

“It’s alright. Sit down, Y/N.” The duke gives you a curt nod seemingly flustered that he stared at you for so long. You remind him of his late wife a lot dressed like that. To everyone’s biggest surprise, you take a seat directly on his left side facing your brother.

You remain silent in your seat knowing that the duke’s pride will take a hit if he doesn’t correct the mistake that he didn’t even notice until you sat down. Usually, they wouldn’t care if you sit far away, they would probably think that you were the one who wanted the seat away from them in the first place as a sign of defiance but they can’t deny that you’re the lady of the house so to assume you would sit far away is an arrogant mistake on the servants part.

“What are you waiting for give my daughter a set and bring the food.” Thankfully the duke is just like you expected. He looks annoyed at the servants. His authority is absolute so the maids scurry to bring you some new tableware and bring out the food. The lonely set is forgotten at the rear end of the table. This is the first time you see something so mouthwatering in a while since you were forced to eat in your room and the food, they brought you was not even close to this. Now that you think about it, it was probably some leftover from the kitchen. No wonder Y/N is this thin.

It probably wasn’t even part of her punishment so someone must be stealing the food that is made for Y/N.

It’s hard to control your expression or your body language that is burned into your body by nature. You’re feeling uncomfortable all over that you can’t enjoy the food at all. It’s sad to see how rigid you are in the presence of your supposed family members. You don’t have any appetite even though you feel like you’re starving.

“How are things with Gold Wing? Did you manage to get them to agree with our terms?”

The Gold Wing is under the jurisdiction of the House of Summer. The old man Jung Jeyhun is a greedy man who keeps delaying his son’s succession because he wants to keep his title as an archduke. He’s the hidden boss of this novel. Y/N can’t compare with an evil villain like him. There’s probably no one else who knows he’s backing that trading company. You’re an exception only because you read the novel and know everything about how he wants to be the sole ruler of the Empire. He’s behind many unfortunate events that happen in the novel that no one finds out about until it’s too late.

“No. They’re trying to sell their stones for double the price. Knowing that none of the other companies have that much supply since they bought the rights to the mines.” Your brother looks irritated as if he recalls the meeting with the head of the company vividly.

No wonder they are cocky, they have the backing of House Summer, and they cheated the other rival companies out of the right to produce this type of stone that’s particularly high priced in the first section of the book. This stone is called Stelar which is steel but it’s a novel, so they had to give it a fancy name. Swords here are mainly made from two important ingredients iron or steel, but steel has a longer durability and is easy to craft to different shapes, so they tend to use that instead of iron which is way cheaper because of this fact. The knights used swords made with Stelar but because of the high price, it was hard to come by after the Gold Wing trading company monopolized the rights.

Their goal is to weaken the other three houses’ military power by selling the stones at a high price and getting funds for their territory but it’s not the only reason. The swords they sell are not simply made of Stelar. Steel is an alloy of iron. Iron needs to be mixed with carbon to make steel. They use some steel and put more iron to degrade the quality of the sword which breaks more easily than it should. You remember learning of it in school in your previous life, but these people don’t know of it because the novel has plot holes here and there. Since the novel focuses on the main characters things that are not related to them too much have more freedom to change, and things may differ as the author cannot mention every little thing. This could be what you need to make changes.

The truth that they tempered with the swords that got imported only comes to light when Yoongi investigates the company when he almost loses the battle with the barbarians but that battle only happens when you reach nearly half of the novel. He could tell that there was a difference in quality when he saw the sword break too easily. He made an assumption just by that and the fact that the new sword became heavier due to the added mass of iron.

Even if you feel bad for taking credit for his discovery you need to use that information, he finds out later so you can survive in this household.

“May I speak up, father?” You heard enough to grasp the current situation. You need to speak up before you lose your courage.

“What can you even contribute to this conversation?” Your brother looks angry that he got interrupted. In your eyes he’s not scary he’s just a big child throwing a tantrum when things don’t go his way. You decide to calmly face him even if you have to hide your nervousness by clasping your hands together under the table for comfort. Still can’t control the original Y/N’s physical reactions.

“I don’t think I asked brother.”

The duke raises his hand to silence Jin before he can spit out angrier remarks. The moment you appeared and gracefully bowed wearing your mother’s dress the duke could tell that something about you just became different. The air around you is filled with determination.

He got reports of you acting unusually tame so he asked you to dine together and see it for himself.

Your eyes that only reflected the world around it suddenly became full of will to live.

He’s curious to hear what you have to say. Usually, you wouldn’t speak unless you were spoken to. “Do you perhaps have a good idea of how to deal with them?” He proposes fully giving you his attention.

“The problem is that we don’t have Stelar to make swords for the knights, right? I suggest we find a mine suitable to harvest the stones we need that way we don’t have to depend on the trading company.”

“Are you a fool? Do you think if we could produce it, we would continue to make this ridiculous deal work?” You’re getting tired of your brother always cutting in. You can’t get angry though. The first thing you need to change is how people see you and you can’t get angry because the people around you will call you a temperamental child even if your anger is justified. They wouldn’t care either way they just want to belittle you. You just need to not allow them to do so.

“We have a place like that in our territory that could be suitable. I can mark it on a map if you’d like.” Even though the duke might be suspicious of how you know of a place like that he will investigate either way. This deal is too good to pass up on.

In hopes of discovering a new mine, he will even accept the flimsy lie of you just discovered it by reading some book and looking at maps.

“Alright. I will instruct the knights to check it out. If what you said is true, I will reward you.” You nod your head pleased with the outcome of this uncomfortable breakfast.

In the novel the imperial prince comes across the mine in your territory when he’s running away from assassins and due to his discovery, he gets praised by the king for solving a big problem. However, if you find the mine first that puts you in a favourable position with the other houses and even the king if you give the stones at a lower price making the Gold Wing trading company lose its base customers by making better deals.

Thankfully that painful breakfast comes to an end soon as father’s aid whispers something into his ear. He leaves in a hurry which makes you think it’s about something important and work-related.

Your brother leaves without saying a word so you can finally enjoy your food alone.

Ever since you came to this place you’ve never been this full before, it puts you in a fairly good mood. You even managed to grab the duke’s attention and for once got something more filling than stale bread.

All you need to do is wait until the mine is discovered and now that one thing is out of the way you need to start with disciplining your maids and get your nanny kicked out. Biwon had a good life here up to this point because now that you’re here you will make it a living hell for her, and that’s a promise.

“What did you talk about with the duke?” You’re not surprised to find your nanny in your room when you get back. She looks anxious you can see how her nails are bitten and she slightly thumps her foot. You got back early so if you tell her some half-truths, she won’t suspect you that much.

“He didn’t talk to me at all. He only talked with my brother about work that I don’t understand. I don’t know why they keep ignoring me. You’re the only one who cares about me, nanny.” Good thing that the maids left after serving the meal, you would be in trouble if someone overheard you and you were caught lying. You bury your head in her apron to conceal your disgusted expression when she caresses your head.

You need to act like usual, so she won’t suspect a thing. If her guard is down, it will be easier for you to make your move.

You can easily produce some fake tears for the greater good.

“That’s right, only I care about you. Who else would love a useless child like you.” You bite your tongue to hold back when Biwon hugs you. You agree with her even if you want to break her arms that hugs you like a shameless person.

Biwon doesn’t use needles on you again to erase her marks since you started to dine with the duke. Thankfully she doesn’t realise what you’re planning.

The mine you talked about last time turned out to be true and the duke was very happy to get back at the Gold Wing trading company. He started to make a profit thanks to you, and he even listened to your suggestion of lowering the price to sell it to the other houses. Developing the mining ground consumes a lot of money at the moment but the profit will be greater than ever if it’s finished. You asked to have dinner with them every day as a reward which made him look surprised. He reluctantly agreed when you asked to make your contribution a secret for now you can’t let your nanny hear about it just yet. The duke probably thought he would buy you some clothes and accessories and you will be all set. Unfortunately for them, you don’t care about luxuries especially if it comes from them.

While you would prefer to not eat with them you need to show the staff that you’re indeed the lady of the house. Now they are giving you the bare minimum of respect after the maid got scolded by your father after the tableware incident.

You didn’t think Jin would come after you excused yourself from the meal. Right when you leave the dining room your brother appears halting you in your step and grabbing your hand forcefully to stop you in your tracks.

“Where are you going in a hurry so dressed up?” Your wrist throbs in his hold. That bastard how could he grab the hand of his sister so hard? Compared to him your body is so small you look like a child next to him. You’re not surprised since you were malnourished before. You’re sure it will bruise badly but you refuse to show him that he’s hurting you.

“I believe it’s none of my brother’s business where I go in my free time.” You look into his eyes with confidence. Y/N was always longing for her brother’s love but you’re not the real Y/N and you will never consider him your brother, so his attitude doesn’t bother you at all emotionally. He simply became a person you’re forced to live with and tolerate for now.

If everything is over you will cut ties with them for good.

“You’ve been acting weird ever since your probation. If this is your way of seeking attention from father or I, that will never happen no matter what you’re scheming.”

Using the moment of his surprise you get out of his hold and get farther away from him. Your smile says it all. ‘I don’t consider you a brother so go to hell’. You’re getting angry but you refuse to show him any reaction even if you can’t exactly control the fire in your eyes.

“You don’t have to be afraid of that. I don’t consider people who neglect and belittle me my family at all. I don’t need your love or attention anymore.” You show him your back confidently as you walk away from his frozen form.

“Gaon prepare some indigestion medicine for me. Is the carriage ready?” Jin catches your voice talking to your maid still frozen on the spot you left him.

Your eyes looked different. When you were young you used to beg for his affection always clinging to him but now. Why does it look like you despise him and why does it bother him?

He never felt anything for you for a very long time.

“Yes, my lady everything is like you instructed.” You nod satisfied by the way things progress.

Now there’s only one thing left to do.

You’re on your way to meet with the head of the blacks information guild. The only one who could top the Gold Wing trading company by power would be them. The blacks is one of the largest information-selling guilds – trading only to deceive people and hide the fact that they know everything that can be known throughout the empire.

They have men everywhere. The head is conveniently the second young master of house Autumn who currently stays in House Summer territory. Jeon Jungkook is clever enough to know that information is the most important thing to have the upper hand this is how he was able to survive the battle for succession.

It will be probably dangerous to meet him but you will have to take this gamble on if you want things to work out you need the backing of the most powerful guild in the empire.

Convenient that the duke doesn’t care about Y/N’s safety so you don’t need to play hide and seek with the guards you can do your business without getting interrupted. If you say you don’t need an escort, they back off immediately and let you leave.

Following the novel’s description, you look for a house with a red chimney and a black door away from the main streets. Once you find it you have to knock two then three times until someone asks, “Are you lost?” and you have to reply with “Yes can you tell me where can I find black paint?” - and you’re in.

It’s only a select few that know about this code so Jungkook will be suspicious of how a lady with a bad reputation knows about it, but you came to make a deal that he can’t refuse. You can talk around the fact of how you know about their secret entrance.

As you expected Jungkook came himself to greet you, you could recognise that brown hair and emerald eyes anywhere.

“Please have a seat. I prepared some tea.” His smile is pleasant but calculating. His intentions are clear unlike when you talk to your blood relatives, so you’re surprisingly relaxed in his presence. Jungkook is intrigued by your body language. Usually, people are distrustful of him because of his mask. Your eyes tell him that you know more than you look.

“I have a request to make. I would like to know what this liquid is and any information that you can get on it or the bottle.” Jungkook is said to like straightforward people, so you try to be confident.

Jungkook laughs seeing your confidence. You exceed his expectations he heard that you’re stupid and extravagant with a bad temper, but it seems like his information is outdated. That needs to change he smirks.

He gives you credit for realising he wields information. Usually, people come to his guild to do business. Not many know that the purpose of the blacks is different.

“How much will you pay me for the information?”

“I heard I can pay with information for information. I have something important to tell you anyway.”

“Oh.” People rarely have any information that he doesn’t already know but you look so confident that he has to humour you. “Please enlighten me.” Taking a relaxed laid-back pose he awaits your answer.

“The head of the Gold Wing trading company is the current Duke of House Summer and he has a spy in your guild.” The only reason the blacks are not at the top is because of the upper hand they gain from the spy. No one would suspect that Jungkook’s right-hand man is a spy. He causes the guild’s destruction near the end of the novel. Heartbroken from the betrayal Jungkook is stabbed by him in the end.

Jungkook grips the side of the sofa after hearing your daring words until the wood slightly splits. He doesn’t usually trust people so to think that someone betrayed him feels impossible.

“I’m not saying that without evidence. There’s a tree in the back looking directly at the alleyway if you dig the dirt near the roots, you will find a letter with a coded message it was placed there this afternoon so you have to look for it before sunrise. I swear on my life that if I lie to you, you have the right to kill me.” The only way he will believe you is if you match the sacrifice for your accusation. Your life is on the line, but you know you’re right.

Or that you hope it’s the same as in the novel.

Jungkook instructs one of his men to look for the tree. He visibly pales when he sees the man come back with a dirty envelope. He reads the letter with a face of indifference, but you know he is furious deep inside and somewhat sad. Trust is not easily given away by him.

“Who— ” Jungkook closes his eyes to compose himself. “Who is the spy?” He appears distraught which is normal considering the fact you just dumped on him suddenly.

You hesitate for a moment. You know this information will hurt him, but he is entitled to the truth – and you do this to save his life in the end. “It’s Sam.”

You can tell it hit him hard but you don’t think he doesn’t believe you. He might get angry and it’s really not your place to intervene. However, you know this feeling very well. Being betrayed by someone you trusted. If nothing else you can sympathise with that feeling.

“Please excuse my rudeness.” You tell before you impulsively side-hug him. He’s so surprised by your embrace that he doesn’t try to push you away immediately. You’re so warm and your hand is comforting on his back. He doesn’t know you, but it feels like you understand him to some extent.

He closes his eyes and lets this moment pass by. Hidden from prying eyes it’s just – you and him for this moment.

At last, he composes himself and accepts your request. He even gives you a pendant that’s only given to the highest-ranking customers saying that your information is worth that much.

It’s a pretty pendant with a black snake on it. Looks like a masterpiece.

Thankfully nothing out of the ordinary happened while you were out. You were able to enjoy some snacks when you got back in peace as your nanny was on vacation.

You need to make your move while Biwon is away your plan needs to be done by the time she gets back. Thanks to the blacks information guild – you were able to identify the liquid your nanny made you drink every day — you only had to wait two days to hear from them.

Your discovery is enraging and liberating at the same time.

It helped you put the pieces together and even gave you an advantage to work with. To finally know the full truth of what happened to Kim Y/N. This could be a good explanation for why you couldn’t access all her memories or why some things become hazy the longer you thought about it.

Life was way too cruel for a girl like Y/N.

Now that you’ve set up the stage you just need to wait for the protagonists to arrive.

Biwon seems relaxed after her vacation; she probably enjoyed a luxurious life out of the jewellery she stole from you. You’re getting sick just from seeing her smile. It must have felt good to be able to look down on a noble lady and make Y/N cater to her all this time, exploiting a poor young lady. To think that all those rumours come from her to isolate and degrade her. She should smile while she can you think smirking through the rim of your cup.

Now’s showtime.

The taste of tea is familiar in your mouth. Due to double the dose of the liquid she made you drink each morning the symptoms came earlier than you anticipated. Suddenly getting on the drug after you stopped taking it is a huge risk, but you need to prove her involvement in the crime.

You didn’t think it would hurt this much though. Your head clouded over soon, and your body collapsed on the floor in tremor.

Gaon called the doctor immediately as you instructed and while you were getting examined your other trusted maid planted the evidence in your nanny’s room. It didn’t take long to see Biwon try to escape your trap, but it was too late when the knights found the medicine bottle.

She had nowhere to run to.

You regained consciousness but it was hard for you to open your eyes yet. The pain you felt in your abdomen felt unbearable, but you need to see this through till the end.

“I can’t believe I didn’t notice this. To tell the truth, the lady came to me often to ask for headache medicine.” You could feel the worry in the doctor’s voice. You feel bad for suspecting him at first. He might be the only one to actually care for Y/N in this forsaken house.

“This drug is called blackroot it’s made from a rare flower that was used in a war experiment in the past. The characteristic of the flower is that it can manipulate the mind – it makes the user unable to control their temper and creates hazy thoughts. While it works as a brainwashing technique it has all kinds of side effects such as explosive temper, haziness, headaches, loss of appetite and memory loss. The longer someone takes it the more fragile that person will become.”

No wonder Y/N is this thin. When you first heard about this drug you felt incredibly furious to make her take such a dangerous drug just because Biwon was greedy for things she couldn’t have.

Once the dizziness subsided you were able to open your eyes it seemed like the medicine the doctor gave you had some effect. The pain is still there but your head is clearer.

“I- didn’t do this! I was framed!” Biwon begs on her knees in front of the duke and young master but seeing their reactions no one actually buys that half-hearted accusation. Serves her right.

You made sure to get solid evidence of her crime.

You’re able to sit up thanks to Gaon’s help and you look down upon your nanny with a hard expression.

You cannot believe this is finally over.

Now no one will dare to take advantage of you after this incident comes to light. It won’t make your reputation restored to how it was before but at least it will provide you with a good opportunity to show the people around you that you’re different without having to fear someone figuring out you’re not the real Y/N.

“Have the witnesses come forward.” The maid who is questioned is shaking like a leaf in front of the duke.

“Who served Y/N tea?” Jin comes forward to interrogate the maids. For some reason, he looks livid. It’s probably because of their pride. How dare they manipulate the duke’s daughter a mere maid. – they probably think like that.

“The nanny always prepares the tea for the lady in the morning. No one was allowed to touch it I swear I didn’t know that the lady’s tea had blackroot in it.”

“That’s right, we were never allowed to serve her tea or be present when she made it we would be only called when the lady was about to get dressed.” If they were present at all you think for yourself as you roll your eyes.

“N- No! That…” Biwon looks around like a cornered animal. It’s nothing compared to what you’ve been through. No, you promised the real Y/N that you would not let her go so easily.

“I’ve heard enough. Drag her to the underground dungeon.” After hearing the duke’s command, the knights drag Biwon out of the room. Finally, some quiet. Your head is killing you.

“Everyone leave, now. My daughter needs to rest.” As if seeing it on you that you’re nearly at your limits the grand duke instructs everyone to let you be.

Everyone leaves except for one person. Jin looks torn as he contemplates what to say to his sister.

You know the reason why Jin treated Y/N with contempt is because of that incident in the past. Y/N mad because of withdrawal symptoms from the drug called him a monster. She told him that because of him their mother died, and she even threw a teacup in his face that made him bleed. In reality, she partially blamed him for being forgotten and emotionally abused. After that Jin ignored her altogether. While saying those things are hash and not justified because of the drugs the behaviour of her brother is not something that you can overlook either. There’s no clear line to determine what’s right or wrong. You can’t simply judge if someone deserves forgiveness as it entirely depends on the person who’s granting it.

There are no right or wrong answers.

Their relationship was probably a bad fate. You’re not his sister so you have no intention of making up with him even though he’s wearing that pitiful expression. You feel bad for Y/N but you’re not going to live as her shadow forever. Once this story ends you will leave this kingdom and live as yourself. To make that happen you need to keep your relationship with Y/N’s family distant just like before so you could leave without problems in the future.

“How are you feeling?” Y/N has memories of when her brother spoke to her softly like this. Too bad it’s too late for Y/N to see this. You pull your hand away when he tries to hold it.

“This doesn’t change a thing between you and me. I would appreciate it if you could ignore me like before.” You turn away not inclined to see that pitiful expression on his face anymore.

Thankfully he leaves without a fuss this time.

Things are only growing more awkward as time passes. You made the suggestion of dining with them every day to avoid being punished by Biwon, but it comes back to bite you in the ass now that she’s gone, and no one dares to bother you anymore. You ignore the looks of pity you receive from the staff. They were the ones who ignored and badmouthed you. They have no right to take pity on you at all.

Those who did not try to see the truth don’t deserve to feel regretful.

It's annoying to see the duke and your brother try to get closer to you. They have no idea what Y/N had to go through while they were living in their blissful ignorance.

You wonder if things would have been different if she had been born as a boy in this period. Women are often ill-fated. How tragic.

“Your birthday is coming up in a few months. Do you have something in mind about how you want the celebration banquette?” Your fork freezes in the air when the duke calls you.

While you don’t want a party it would be good to build your reputation. You have no choice but to have one.

“I’ll prepare for it. Thank you for your concern.” You keep your eyes on the food. After taking that double dose your appetite seems to be worse than before. You need to gain some weight, you’re too thin as it is.

“Don’t worry about the budget just prepare how you like.” You’re getting dizzy this is getting bad you overestimated and thought some rest was all you needed. You need to take better care of yourself if you want to beat the final boss of the story. This is about time you meet with your favourite character as well. You need to look your best even if he only glances at you for a second. You’re getting excited just thinking about him.

“Alright. Excuse me I’m full.” You step away from the table to leave and prepare for the upcoming events when you lose your sight for a moment. Thankfully the head butler catches you in time that you’re not faceplanting the floor this moment.

“I’m fine. Thank you.” You push the old man away with reddened ears. This is so embarrassing.

“I’ll carry you to your room.” Your hand automatically holds onto your brother when he suddenly picks you up, to keep your balance. Now you’re really getting tired of their sudden act of affection.

“I said. I’m fine.” You pursue your lips in a frown when he keeps ignoring you to let you down.

“You can hate me all you want. I deserve it but I’m not letting you down.” You’re speechless. At least he knows. It doesn’t matter if he has regrets now that you solved everything.

If it weren’t for your effort and sacrifice things would have been left alone and you would be still suffering without anyone to rely on at the hands of your greedy nanny.

They can feel guilty all they want; it doesn’t change a thing. If anything, you’re feeling angrier about how they think they have the right to make things right after everything that has happened.

It’s bothersome.

“It won’t change anything. No matter how hard you try I’ll never consider you as family again. Not after you and father abandoned me. You don’t know anything about me or how much I suffered. If you didn’t care then don’t care now.” It’s probably hard to hear and somewhat you feel guilty for saying that since you don’t know what Y/N would have wanted but this is how you feel.

You’re torn about what you should do.

This is supposed to be your home when you feel the safest.

However, you can’t remember a single good memory or a time when you felt relaxed in this place. It just makes you sad.

“I understand.” His hand around you tightens just a tiny bit before he relaxes his posture and the hands that hold you gently. At least he’s not trying to come up with excuses. He knows fully well that what you told him was the truth. They have no idea how much you had to suffer since they kept ignoring you. His heart is getting heavy when he realises how light his sister feels in his arms. A woman in her twenties should weight a lot more than this. He’s carrying you with care and gently places you on top of your bed. You have no intention of getting closer to him, but it’s been bothering you for a while ever since you saw that memory. You feel like they don’t deserve your kindness. You wonder if Y/N would be forgiving. If she would be able to embrace them and trust them again. You know you can’t.

“You’re not a monster and I’m sorry for saying that so stop thinking about useless things.” You impulsively grab his hand before he can leave. This is all you can give him as an apology – you know Y/N probably would have wanted him to hear that at least. Something wavers in his eyes. You didn’t think such a small gesture would make him cry. Now that you think about it probably no one said such words to him before. His biggest fear. From an early age, he always heard that his mother died because of him. It shouldn’t be a small child’s fault. It makes you feel like this whole family is just unfortunate.

“I’m sorry Y/N.” Jin holds your hand with shaking fingers. You can clearly feel his tears fall as he pushes his face into your palm seeking some comfort. You don’t know how but you can feel that this apology is sincere. You don’t have the heart to push him away this time.

Just this once you will allow it.

“The captain of the imperial guards shouldn’t cry like this.” You pat his head while he cries. Seeing such a powerful figure crying into your skirt on his knees feels weird.

He hadn’t left for a while and even when he did, he looked reluctant. You could tell what he was thinking without having to hear him say it. He’s afraid that the next time you see him you will push him away and avoid him. Your hand on his head and your words comforted him. He’s the one who did wrong but, in the end, you helped him instead deal with his biggest fear a little better.

He realises that he doesn’t deserve such a good sister as you.

His sudden resolve and earnest eyes make you bite your lips in worry. You know it won’t be good when he suddenly turns around with fiery passion. “I, Kim Seokjin give my oath to Kim Y/N that I will protect you for as long as I live. If I break my promise, I’m willing to die a miserable death.” This is your first time seeing someone give their knight’s oath. His hands are elegantly placed over his heart in a kneeling position and his eyes are fierce and honest. Stupid brother, you’re not the one he should give his oath to!

That was not your intention to make him so motivated. You should really learn how to ignore things in the future if you want to avoid bothersome situations like this. It’s not like you can reject him now either.

After he finally left because of work called you collapsed on your bed.

You can’t believe he gives you the knight’s oath instead of the female lead. He’s supposed to fall in love with her and be the miserable second male lead. You expect that things will be different if you change your destiny, but such drastic changes make you anxious for the future development of the plot.

Thankfully your favourite character was not caught up in the love triangle since his territory is the farthest away from the capital. He doesn’t frequent gatherings because of his inability to fully control his powers, and he has a bad reputation overall because of his war achievements and fearful power. Throughout the novel, he is described as someone who doesn’t care about women and is only fixed to find a way to control his abilities.

Min Yoongi you can’t wait to see him at the upcoming hunting festival.

Everything becomes normal and quiet.

Your daily life is better except for the torturous dinners with your family. Thankfully Jin is busy with imperial work and your father manages his new business and duties as a duke, so you don’t have to run into them too much inside the house.

In two or three days you make a trip to see Jungkook and get useful information and sometimes chat over some tea.

What’s next on your list is to gather personal intel on people who will attend the hunting festival. The fact that this is organised by the Duke of Summer is making you anxious. You remember some crazy shit happen around that time and his main target will be your favourite character. Min Yoongi.

Trying not to look too obsessed with a man you’ve never met before you decided to look over his information last.

There’s not much that could be gathered on him (even by a professional information broker as the North keeps their gates locked skin-tight) in the first place the info that your eyes skim through is less than you expected even with the additional stuff that you know because of the novel is limited mostly to his childhood and main events which is not much at all.

He wasn’t present in all the episodes but when he’s involved – well, things were never good.

You don’t know all the archduke’s special abilities which is a concern. You know Min Yoongi can read minds. The limitation to his power is that he has to touch the person to hear all the thoughts but with malicious intent, it doesn’t even need that.

It makes him the second most powerful ability user since he can detect lies and see one’s true self. Someone has to be well aware of his ability to hide something from him.

His special skill is to tell what the other person is thinking good or bad but that means that he could hardly hear his own thoughts. The world is never silent for his ears and that has its consequences. What little is known of them in the outside world is that all the Min descendants had gone mad at some point in their lives and chose to kill themselves when there was another person that could take over the Ducey or their son became of age if they were lucky to hold on until then. Min Yoongi’s tragic childhood is summarised in a few sad lines in the novel it was not overly detailed, but you remember feeling sad.

Whilst your survival is the priority you want to change Yoongi’s fate as well if it’s possible. Even if he’s not going to madly fall in love with you. You want him to have a happy life and not end as tragically as in the novel. You liked his character a lot. Even when he was faced with such hardships, he never gave up he would never succumb to the same fate as his father, and he held on until the last moment of his life.

You admired his determination to live.

You want to do the same with your second chance and hold on until the last moment trying to change your fate.

Who knows maybe you could overcome it together.

So many scenarios run through your head imagining how you will greet him when you finally meet him, what you will say to him. All of those restless nights couldn’t have been wrong when you’re finally faced with him. None of them could get you ready for that hard cold stare that he shows you.

You practically burst open the carriage door after the chaperone states that you’ve arrived.

Being in the same space as your brother and father acting all cute and considerate for almost four full hours made you want to let the ground swallow you whole and never want to see the sun again.

This is when you first make eye contact with him – or so you think. His eyes visibly slip over your face as if he’s not even seeing you just looking through you like you’re one tree of the dozens curving the landscape. It hurts your pride a lot to be invisible to your favourite character, but you gulp it down and hold your head high when you exit the carriage.

You knew it well that he was that type of person, but it didn’t mean it still did not hurt you to see it with your own eyes. There’s one thing to say he’s not interested in women but in reality, it felt like he’s not into humans – not just women. Hearing everyone’s thoughts might be a reason why he would be so over humans that he doesn’t even want to acknowledge them but damn.

Now that you see him and not just read about him you can tell two things already. One, he’s crazy handsome. The lines that describe how good-looking he is does not give him justice. Two, the lines in the novel are too tame to describe how much he loathes to see and interact with anyone. It’s almost comical how disgust is written all over his face when he has to shake hands with nobles or greet the young ladies.

That face still has many admirers even when his expression is a permanent frown all the time. Most likely to his greatest disapproval, he’s very popular with the ladies despite his bad reputation.

You can imagine how annoying it must be for him. Forgetting how you felt hurt before you even started to feel bad for him. His circumstances are unique and, in fact, no one knows what he has to deal with every single day. Even though you know you don’t really know what it feels like.

You’re contemplating how to approach him to not get immediately shut down or seem too suspicious when some of the ladies have you locked in a circle. Seeing their arrogant expressions, you could already tell what would happen when they finally opened their mouths.

“What a surprise to see you attend this year. Are you even allowed to be outside yet?”

You grit your teeth and smile at them.

It’s a waste to argue with them and you’re not here to let them bully you. You came here to see your favourite character and they are already dampening your mood.

“The ladies might need to check their eyesight soon. I arrived here with my brother and father so if you have complaints about me being here you could always go to them.” You speak with a permanent smile but there’s nothing friendly in your expression as you cross them leaving the circle of hyenas behind you.

They’re lesser nobles of course they wouldn’t dare complain to them. Your family is powerful after all one of the four most powerful people in the kingdom is your father. They targeted you specifically because you were an easy target so far too dumb to attack them with words like they do, and Y/N's violent temper just served the right purpose to belittle her and make her the most hated woman in high society. You’re not going to give them the chance to humiliate you anymore. They are just extras in a novel.

The thought alone makes you smile. Right. You’re the main villain in this novel but you’re going to turn it into your story so that you can be the main character in your life.

Something that you always wanted to try.

The first day goes by without incident. After the second day of the hunting festival starts the hunting begins and activities for both the ladies and men begin slowly but surely following the original plot of the novel.

Until there’s a big error occurring in the middle. You don’t remember any banquet happening to welcome the most influential families. This could mean that it wasn’t relevant to the main plot to mention, or things changed somehow and now there’s a sudden dinner plan made by someone.

There’s a banquet held for the four archdukes and their families and while you’re thrilled that you’re seated right across from your favourite character you were not expecting him to death glare you right in front of your salad.

To your best knowledge you haven’t even greeted him yet so why does he look like he wants to murder your entire family? You’re unsure.

At some point, you stop avoiding him and look him in the eye but still, you can’t read his expression at all.

You feel like you don’t have to emphasise that you couldn’t eat a single thing at that dinner in peace.

You jump when a man approaches you in the empty hallway and when you look at him something clicks in your mind, now that you think about it you can recognise this man from anywhere. He’s Namjoon his right-hand man the only person that he tolerates.

“You scared the living shit out of me.” You’re so surprised that you don’t check your language before it’s already out in the open. Your eyes are wide as you look at the man probably thinking that you’re a weird person. Shit. Now you’ve done it. You tried so hard until now to remain in character and not use slang words or bad language.

Which is hard on their own as you breathe and live with words that end in fuck most likely than not.

The struggles of a modern woman. Haah.

“I mean you should not hide in the shadows like an assassin ready to strike Mr. You scared me.” You try to put the blame on him entirely so he would forget your previous words and it seems to work as he’s quick to apologise and state his business.

“Duke Min would like to speak with you. If you could please follow me, I will lead you to him.” You narrow your eyes after Namjoon finishes his sentence. Him wanting to see you is very weird.

Why?

“Does this have to do with him glaring at me throughout dinner?” You take a step back narrowing your eyes suspiciously at the man. Even though he’s just the messenger you can’t help but ask. You and him being alone after you witnessed his personality might not be the best idea even if he’s still your favourite character. You don’t want to die by his hands either.

“He.. the duke has a difficult personality but he’s not a bad person. I’m sure he’s just interested in the lady.” You can tell that Namjoon really believes that but for some reason you can’t picture him being interested in you. Y/N might be pretty but the duke is not that kind of person to be captivated by something so shallow as that. That has to be a different reason why he wants to talk with you in private and while you’re anxious.

You decide its best to see what he wants.

Also, he’s not someone that anyone can just say no to. He will most likely force you to meet him. It might be your best option to get this over with and see where this conversation goes. If it even goes anywhere. He’s a practical person like that.

You’re anxious and excited at the same time as you follow Namjoon just a step behind.

“Who are you?” You’re perplexed to meet with this type of question. He cornered you without warning, both his hands were caging your hip, your backside digging into the edge of the table.

You’re scared and strangely excited to be this close. Your heart is beating heavily trying to break out from your ribcage.

“Kim Y/N.” You reply dumbly while still trying to process this sudden change in his behaviour and his closeness to you.

You were greeting him first and suddenly you’re completely caged in.

“Kim? Is Duke Kim your father?” You would find his furrowing brows adorable if you weren’t so close to witnessing it. His scent is overpowering your senses, and your faces are just a hair's breadth away from touching – your favourite character makes it hard for you to think straight. Air is caught in your lungs when he holds you by your chin tilting your head up to meet with his eyes.

“Y-Yes.” You’re unsure what he wants to hear from you. From the moment you stepped into his office, he kept questioning you without answering any of yours in return.

“Am I interrupting something?” Both of your gazes turn to face a surprised Kim Namjoon standing by the door. He looks exactly like he just got here and witnessed something weird happening. You can’t blame him for it, you’re surprised as well. Min Yoongi keeps acting weird. He looks somewhat bewitched as he keeps looking between you and Namjoon almost bordering to look crazy in your eyes for a moment.

As if he’s in a deep thought about something mind breaking discovery.

Yoongi didn’t hear his right hand man coming at all but what’s even weirder than that is he can’t hear his thoughts at all.

It all started when he tried to read this woman’s mind throughout the dinner celebration but failed while everyone’s else mind spoke to him clearly. He found it strange for her to be the only exception. As if she has a shield around her mind that doesn’t allow his power to penetrate. The Kim family’s power is to neutralize other powers (everyone is aware of it as the family never tried to hide it) but that can’t be the answer since he could hear their thoughts all the same as you have to be aware of the power you’re trying to block but no one knows that he can read minds.

But now upon making contact with her, he can’t even hear what others are thinking. Which could mean her power is even more rare compared to her family. Everything is quite like it was never before. It’s unsettling but on the other hand, it’s quiet and peaceful.

A realisation draws on him that Kim Y/N might be the key to finally learning to control this power of his that has been plaguing his generation of heirs and forcing them to live a miserable life until they either take their lives or become insane. Her power acts like a tranquillizer almost. Tasting this peaceful silence Yoongi’s hand curves around her waist more protectively. Protective of this silence he’s experiencing for the first time in his life.

He will do anything to keep this woman by his side from now on. He comes to a firm resolution on the spot.

“Be my wife.” To say you feel shocked after hearing that would be an understatement. This is not your usual love confession, and you know it. There’s nothing tender in his words or expression if anything it feels like a business transaction to you.

It’s clear he’s proposing an arranged marriage kind of deal where you both get something out of it but you’re not fond of the idea. In your previous life, you never had a real boyfriend whilst you dated here and there. Someone you could say is the love of your life you never once experienced that feeling, and you don’t want a marriage in your second life without love. You decided to do anything you wanted from now on.

“I’m sorry but I have to refuse your proposal. I won’t marry a man I know is not in love with me and I don’t love him either. This is not something I want.” Too shocked to reply you use that time to get out of his hold and get away before he regains his senses after getting rejected. He probably didn’t think anyone would dare to say no to him as he was aware to be popular with the ladies. This just makes you even more unique as it was anyone else, they would have said yes immediately to an offer like that. Namjoon gets out of your way as you leave, his mouth hanging open still trying to process that the man who notoriously hates women suddenly asked for a lady’s hand in marriage and getting brutally rejected by one at the same time.

The door shuts behind you abruptly and Yoongi massages his temple with his hands trying to figure out what he did wrong for you to storm out like that. Was his proposal not to your liking? What does it even mean to marry the person you love is beyond his comprehension.

#bts fanfiction #bts fanfic #bts #bts fic #yoongi fanfic #yoongi fanfiction #yoongi x reader #min yoongi x reader #bts x you #yoongi fic #yoongi fluff #yoongi angst #yoongi x you #bts x reader #bts fluff #btsghostie #ksmutclub

406 notes · View notes