#Yoongi ff | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

hoseoksluna · 3 months ago

Text

SMOKE, v. | myg

pairing: idol!yoongi x smoke!oc (ft. jungkook & taehyung)

genre: smut, fluff

word count: 8.2k

summary: everything that hurt has stopped.

pinterest board: smoke / playlist: moon kitty's playlist / taglist: join / discord: join

warnings: yoongi is perfect, mutual masturbation, lots of lustful thoughts of sex and oral, yoongi's pov—literally the biggest warning, sex toys, desperation, praise kink, neediness, mentions of punishment & an actual punishment, too.

note: this might be the best chapter in the series and unfortunately, it's the last chapter i post before my hiatus. thanks to my bestest friend in the world, @tkslovechild, this series is finally moving forward somewhere and it's not a source of my depression anymore. i hope you all enjoy this chapter, my babies. see you after my hiatus. i will miss you all, terribly. luna loves you forever.

side note: make sure to listen to oc's playlist. it's so good.

The lights must be blaring, in the bizarre simplicity of our current happenstance, and the toys for adults must be tinged with a variety of colors, but my eyes are moored on the prismatic delicacy of her utter engrossment.

Pupils wide and swallowing each detail of the display of the instruments of pleasure, my cock is so tight in my pants that I struggle for air, my fists clenched by my sides, ever so ready to snatch the product she points at just so I could become the means to make that joy explode further in her. She teased me in the car with her naughty songs, with her coy glances at me to suss out whether I caught onto the meaning—when in reality I tried my fucking hardest not to give in to my imagination and crash my car. Her body was curled so divinely, facing me, and my hands gripped the steering wheel until the leather squeaked. We laughed about it, she blamed me for farting, and I longed to kiss her until she would shut up.

And I should have—because now she’s teasing me with her utmost fascination with a certain clit sucker.

Whatever color it is.

It was her idea to head inside this store. We drove around through the moonlit streets of Seoul for an hour, listening to her playlist reverberating throughout the vehicle. With the windows pulled down, the miscellaneous paraphernalia of her soul—the erotism of persona, the melancholia of her heart and the despondency caused from her pain—rumbling out of them, letting everyone see and hear the echo of her newly bloomed enthusiasm and the sprightliness of her being. She was alive at night, alive with me, liking the principle of me learning about her through this artful form. And I liked her liking that.

The songs spoke what our mouths couldn’t, communicating for us, because we acted as though my own pain didn’t break us apart. In the vivacity of the car drive, in the lapis lazuli of our own exclusive, atmospheric globe, I didn’t tell her off for being bare for me the previous morning. No, I took off her night dress and drank from the sweet nectar of her bosom, right there on the ivory of her plush couch until she drenched it so well that she blushed.

In fact, it’s the only thing I voiced out in terms of the conflict.

Perhaps it was due to the influence of her songs, laced with the heady aroma of her energy—fuck, if I know, but I didn’t regret my words.

Not this time.

And her glimmering cheeks flushed like they did in my imagination, tightening my cock in the easy way that she was only capable of doing. I seized the tension between us—and I might as well clasped my hand over her thighs, which were still turned to me, with how her breath hitched in her throat in reaction to my brazenness.

It was the reason why she wrapped her fingers around my wrist when we walked by that sex shop en route to the restaurant I chose, stopping me dead in my tracks. She held our sexuality close to her chest, not adding to it in the car, but unraveling it there, in the middle of the street, with strangers passing by. Gave me a look only a moon kitty like her could, mischievous yet innocent, and tilted her head in the direction of the store. And I knew, deep in my heart, that it was the little creature inside her that dragged me in—no longer neglected, but attuned to my attention, to my care and the respect I wafted towards her.

There were no two sides to her, and on no account did we stand on the opposite sides of the chessboard with our agonies, despite the fact all I could see was the monochrome of its pattern once I regarded her enthrallment.

Somehow, we are unified at this very moment, and I crave to buy her that clit sucker.

“Choose a color,” I rasp, and my cock agrees with me, twitching at the idea of her picking a color of her liking, one that can match her nails or perhaps the dark wine of her hair. One that bewitched me so profusely once I observed it under that soft white light of the interior of my car, its sleekness dipping into my heart that began to thunder for her. One that absolutely pales in comparison as I look at it now, the red dull and bleak, my sight unfolding in colors. My craving expands when her eyes widen at my seemingly brainsick idea, digging into mine while her tightened lips quiver in a smile. I smirk, enjoying her coy reaction, and I take this teasing into another dimension, austerely because I want to—and because I can, because we can. “Maybe the red one to match your hair.”

Her gasp melts into a delicate laughter that tickles my insides and, mindlessly, she runs her elongated fingers through the ends of her hair at her tummy. Taps her long, cross-embellished nail, on another package beside it. “This one has the thingy that vibrates inside you.”

It’s the same rose toy, but with a silicone attachment with a bulbous end. I’m not sure how those violent vibrations inside her walls can feel pleasurable for her, but the way she gazes at it—with a smirk akin to mine and lowered long lashes that languidly beat against the tops of her cheeks—propels me to seek my answer.

I take it in my hands, inspecting it further. And I notice that the petals hide a small tongue in their center, simulating an oral sex for her lonesome times.

Heat clings to my skin as I grow feverish. I am leaving for a tour in a few weeks. Who will be there to eat her sweet little pussy?

The apples of her cheeks blaze in pinkness, regarding me as she is, and I lick my lips. “This one licks your clit. Do you think it’ll do a better job than me?”

The rose tint deepens at my teasing words and all I can think about is how she’s gonna press those petals deeper and deeper into her folds, digging her long nails into the silicon surface just like she dug her nails into my scalp. And suddenly, I can’t take it anymore.

I fast forward.

“Do you want this thing or the bullet?” I ask her, impatient, but for what—I don’t know. What I do know is that I can’t stay in this place any longer with my imagination bursting forth and clouding everything negative I ever felt towards this girl. And while the newness crests joy and contentment in me, I need to be distracted from the lust that has become so natural between us. Or else, I bend her over in this aisle, rip the package open and use it on her while I fuck her dumb.

I might become unhinged. Just for her, just for the flush blanketing her features. Just so I have her positive feelings in my hands.

She’s too overwhelmed to respond, redder than her hair and it’s endearing. Kitty cups her face and turns around, letting me see her back, and I do the thing I unknowingly wanted to do the moment I inched closer to her.

I brush my hand down her noble spine, clothed in the sheer fabric of her tight top that exposes her camisole underneath to me. I hook my fingers on the belt loop of her baggy jeans and bring her back to me. Her gasp is so tender and so unlike her when she collides into me, her fists bunched on the top of my chest, her hair a mess—tangled on her forehead and eyelashes and I’m awestruck.

By her beauty, by the way there’s no end to her. And I want to keep acknowledging myself with the inexhaustible wholeness of her until I’m gray and stooped in the old age of my affection for her.

No gold, no golden power staining my hands. She’s silver and I am desperate for that moonlit glory to mist my veins. Privately, for me and her. A thing only we know of.

No Sun-mi, no Jungkook.

Pinching the strands of hair away from her face, she seems to be swimming in a thought I’m very curious about. Even more so, when she engages her hands and hangs them over my neck. Calmness relaxes the muscles of my stomach and I take a detailed note of that.

No anxiousness, no winged demons beneath.

This is right. This is how it should’ve been from the start. Playfulness, a little bit of lust, and a whole lot of exuberance. Nothing else, at least not this early on.

And even though I asked her a million naughty questions that I’d love for her to sophistically answer for me, something whispers in my gut that I should share my thoughts with her. And without a hint of fear, I do.

“This is good, isn’t it?” I murmur, tipping my chin, my body leading me to lean my forehead against hers and I do—I do, I do. Kitty sighs, oddly validating me, and I continue. “I mean I wasn’t planning on buying you a fucking clit sucker tonight, but I’m glad we’re here.”

She laughs and I lift my head, needing to see her expression of delight. And atypically, my mouth rounds in the same grin and the same laughter spills out of me.

One that breaks into an indecent groan when she finally graces me with her response.

“You know, they have rose toys for men as well. So if I’m getting one, you’re buying one, too.”

It’s like she palmed me over my jeans with her words, but I disagree with a fraction of it.

“Wrong. I’m getting you one.”

She appears to be stunned by my willfulness to not let her spend a dime when she’s with me, her mouth parted and her head cocking back just once. And when she closes her pretty, half-glossy mouth, curls the pillows under her teeth and drops her eyes, her palms sliding down my chest, she accepts it.

And I feel like a man, not a skeleton of who I used to be.

“You’ll be getting two, then.”

I chuckle. Draw near to her ear, sinking under the waterfall of her hair, and I hear her breathing harden. “I can get three if you can’t decide,” I flirt, pulling back more to edge her than to stuff my hand with the other toy that includes the bullet, holding it up for her. Her pools sparkle as she looks at them before perching up at mine, melting.

I bite my lip, feral; and I don’t wait for her to answer once I stack them up in one hand, pivoting on my feet.

“Wait.”

She steals the box with the bullet and puts it back to its original place. Replaces it with a male version of it, her smile cheerful and full of mischief. I take something else that I cover from her sight, which glides upon the display of all kinds of different cock rings and whatnot.

Little does she know what I intend to surprise her with as soon as she allows me back into her girlish lust.

My heart hammers in my chest in tandem with my cock as I pay for it. And I hope that she gets the memo.

That she’s not just a fling—and certainly not just a friend.

“Do you think your toy will pass through security?”

Had I not swallowed my noodles, I would’ve spat them out at her black little outfit. Kitty giggles at my reaction—at the frozen tension in my face as I gaze up at her from my bowl, the soup dripping from my chin. Our movements are simultaneous—hands letting go of our chopstick, but while mine reach for a napkin, hers rummage in the white plastic bag I set down on the empty chair beside me.

The table is too narrow, and it’s a blessing and a curse.

Her vanilla perfume hits my nostrils and I’m convinced it’s what the moon must smell like. The box of the male toy is overly big for her hands and her hair shields her from me as she discreetly reads the description and the instructions. I widen my legs under the table, my bloodstream focusing on only one body part of mine, and I wonder if that’s what she was truly thinking of while she ate her own bowl of noodles.

Fucking myself with a rose fleshlight. Away from her; across the sea.

Jungkook must’ve told her about our tour. I wasn’t going to mention it tonight because I didn’t want to ruin the night with the sombreness of my work. As much as I looked forward to seeing our Army from that side of the globe, I wasn’t happy with the decision installed upon us—wasn’t happy that our management didn’t ask us about our feelings, whether we’re ready for it or not. It was more of a—you have a job now, do it well, cameras will be rolling—and that was the end of it. Namjoon sensed my dissatisfaction, slouching in his chair in front of me, with his jaw propped between his fingers and his eyes piercing through me but he, too, couldn’t say a thing.

None of us could.

It cast me to a deeper sea of my anguish that I didn’t want to stream into my ordinary life with Kitty. I was going to tell her as soon as my fresh emotions would’ve settled and we would’ve settled to the same extent, though having the toy be in the center of it changes everything now.

It’ll be different.

I won’t be a puppet, channeling my humanness through my love for our beloved Army. On the contrary, I will be a dancing fool, knowing I have someone waiting for me back in Seoul while being the epitome of my deepest longings and sentiments overseas. My heart, the toy and the means of our communication.

I wasn’t going to bring the toy with me because if the members were ever to find out, I wouldn’t live it down. But if it makes that sparkle in her irises last a little longer, I shall put extra care into hiding it at the bottom of my suitcase.

“You want me to take it?” I ask, softly, leaning back in my chair, one hand on the table, the other across my thigh. Her smile curves as she glimpses up at me, and I still can’t believe she pulled out an actual sex toy in a restaurant filled with hungry drunken people. If anyone recognizes me, I’m fucked. Majestically, devastatingly fucked if they take a picture, the said picture gets to our management and I have to write an apology letter on Weverse afterward.

I’m sorry for having a personal life with a beautiful girl who’s unlike any shallow pretty faces I’ve come across. I will be more mindful of my actions in the future.

Fuck that.

She can take it out of the packaging and see if it needs to be charged before we can use it if she so much as wishes so.

We.

Yes, that’s right.

I’m not the same person I was yesterday, and something tells me that I have her to thank for that.

“Well, I’m sure the Christmas spirit will get to you and you’ll be lonely. Also, let’s not forget it’ll be cuffing season most of all.”

It’s funny she says that, considering what I secretly bought for her. Hysterical, in fact. Hilarious.

It’s hidden in the pocket of my jacket, so even though she followed her curiosity into the bag, she still doesn’t know about the surprise that awaits her. I took it out when I let her walk in front of me, discreetly. It brought me more joy than I thought I was ever capable of bearing.

Still, I wonder how much more of it I can be filled with. And I want to tempt it—brim with it. I reckon she’s the safest person to take that risk with, but the quiet, unknown voice in me adds that it’s not a risk at all.

Quite the opposite.

And the idea of cuffing her, both literally and figuratively, draws me closer to that cliff of brisk water of that ultimate joy and I want to get soaked. I want to drink.

I want to be cleansed by it.

“Would you like to be cuffed by me, little one?”

It was automatic, the pet name streaming out of my mouth like that mini waterfall I seem to be dazed by. The question, too. And I’m not afraid, not even a hint of dread crawls upon me, and I find myself hoping that it stays. That everything I do and say from now on is of that automatic matter, unabashed, not blocked, not held back.

I hope to be a real person with her. Without any ghosts, any demons. Any pain to scar her with.

The little one doesn’t smile this time, shrinks in her flummox, but still I don’t fear, I don’t wish to grasp my words and put them back in my throat. Taking little steps means grazing your knees and I’m here to place band aids on her bleeding spots.

I’m here for her.

And my belief is supported by my actions this whole evening.

The person I was yesterday is almost unrecognizable to me and I pray, I pray and I will pray once this night is over that it shall remain so.

“I’m not sure what kind of question you’re asking me right now,” she murmurs, leaning her elbows on the table, drawing close to me like I’m drawing close to her, and it’s good enough. I don’t ask for anything else from her.

“It’s the one you think it is,” I rasp, making her eyes widen slightly, and I have to chuckle. She’s so damn adorable, standing outside of her comfort zone, and my own eye is watchful over her, over her little steps, band aids ready in my hands.

At the sound of my soft laughter, she drops her gaze, running her tongue over the inside flesh of her cheek—and there it is. That kind heat rushing through her. I want her to be smoldered by it.

I want a lot of things when it comes to her, a phenomenon that forces me ponder if there ever will be an end to it. It’s better than feeling dissatisfaction regarding someone, digging a hand deep in them, expecting gold, yet plucking out stones that only cut your skin eventually. The more you dig, the bigger the wound. But I don’t have to do that in her. The little one, the moon kitty herself, gives it over, willingly. All of her silver moon dust, glory, and the ashes from her firelight.

Maybe that’s how it should be.

Not expecting, not reaching, but being given, being provided.

Her eyelids lift and descend over the package in her hands before they root upon mine. And her response to my words keeps me company all the way to America.

“Show me how well you can use this and I just might be.”

Dead or alive, I blur between the lines. Jet lagged or just sick with love, it is a conjoined affair in me like the two halves of my heart.

I miss her, even though I haven’t been able to unattach myself from my phone, the only tangible connection between us—the back and forth exchange of words, emojis and stickers that I had never used in my life but began to spam our conversations with once she coyly hid behind them. I miss her, even though I spent nearly every day with her until I boarded my flight.

In Jungkook’s hotel room, the members share a meal together while I stay back, settled comfortably on the beige couch by the floor-length windows as the morning sun shimmers its rays across the walls. I’m sporting a hard-on, which I camouflage with a rough-textured pillow across my lap, due to the contents of our text messages. Hobi is slurping his ramen next to me, elbows propped on his elbows, posture slouched, oblivious to the fact that the girl of his platonic dreams is horny and challenging me to join her in her evening self-care.

Yes, Hobi has developed a crush on the moon kitty and I was the first one to know.

During the last of our leisure time in November before the tour, Hobi called me up and asked me to join him on his last drinking adventure before our work duties swallowed us. He lured me into his apartment with the two bottles of Hennessy that he had bought for the occasion and we talked work, we talked our management and we talked girls.

He admitted to me how guilty he felt for triggering such unpleasant memories in Kitty’s mind after I shared with him the reason why I picked her up into my arms and walked away from him. I was purposefully vague in my speech, not wanting to disclose such privacy without her present, without her knowing especially, and Hobi respected that. Told me he thought about her since that day, remembering only the negative, tethered wisps that seemed to curl tightly in his gut. And I, drunk out of my mind, doting and devoted, shared with him that I wanted her.

Made sure to emphasize in my admission that she was mine.

It was the bravest thing I ever had done.

Hobi understood, explained to me that how he regarded her was strictly friendly. Thought that she carried a certain elegance of beauty that was unprecedented in today’s culture, however, with which I enthusiastically agreed. Then he clutched my shoulder, the wounded one, with extra tenderness, looked me carefully in the eye, and gave me a groundbreaking word of advice that shook through my world.

Don’t treat her like you treated Sun-mi.

I didn’t grasp the meaning until we opened the second bottle and Hobi, seeing my puzzlement, fleshed out his wisdom.

Don’t cling, don’t make her the air you breathe. Just live your life by her side and breathe your own air. You worked too hard to get here to backtrack.

And I tried, within the little time we had together.

We didn’t fuck, we didn’t devour each other’s bodies. We conversed, I learned her favorite color, the name of her favorite band, the dishes she liked—and the common ins and outs of her life. White wasn’t the only color of her soul, she liked red; that deep, dark tint one would only witness alive in the depth of the night. She liked the color of the stop lights, of the tail lights; she liked the way it bathed my face in gentle, undangerous fire whenever we would get stuck in traffic on our car drives—and apparently she liked my patience.

Chase Atlantic was her favorite band.

Tteokbokki her favorite dish.

And I was her favorite person. A fact I already knew by the way she would kiss me at those favorite stop lights of hers.

That was all we did. Kiss and converse. And I didn’t cling to her, didn’t make her the air I breathed. On the contrary, following Hobi’s wisdom, I fell for her in the purest of ways, which I somehow made possible in this befouled world.

And, perhaps, she did, too. A deduction of mine because she began to smoke in front of me at some point.

She was afraid I wouldn’t like it, a sensitive wound that she let me in on—a formless, unclear one that kept me wide awake at night, scrambling my brain to try and figure out what the fucker before me did to her. That was, until she told me, upon our last car drive during that last week we’d have with each other, that the said wound was caused by my own fault.

I told her off for being bare for me at the beginning of the trajectory of our closeness and I sowed a poisonous plant of a hang-up in her. A block in her brain that pressured her to hide the “questionable” parts of her from me.

But there weren’t any questionable parts of her—and I told her, after I pulled out my own pack, lit up one, grabbed her by the back of her neck and kissed her until her lungs were depleted of air.

It was the bloom of our lust, particularly the vocal, intense apology I strung into her lips, kissing them deeper and deeper until they swelled. It was the beginning of our naughty text messages—right on the cusp of my absence, hooking onto my yearning and expanding it to heavenly dimensions.

Yes, heavenly. Our closeness represented heaven as we had forgotten about our toys and remembered them during our hypersexual conversations. Face to face, we focused on the stimulation of our connected intellect, our intertwined characters; phone to phone, our bodies sought compensation.

And right now, upon the first morning here in the US, the moon kitty is persuading me into unpacking my suitcase and using the rose toy in my room.

She’s straining, working so hard, sending me her little stickers of adorable, pleading animals, incognizant to the fact that I don’t need to be that much impelled to do it. She’s staying up for me, needy in bed—I made my decision the second she mentioned it.

I merely delight in her saying please.

I get off on it; it makes my cock rock hard and the concept of the members being around and unaware of what she’s doing to me—especially Jungkook, who’s stimming and happy to be eating after a restless night—heightens my pleasure, lengthening towards the heavens.

If only I could take her there. With my tongue. Like I did the first time, holding her body down so she wouldn’t rise higher without me.

pleaseeeeee, i’m gonna start without you if you dont get up rn

I smile at the text message and I imagine her writhing in her bed, her bedsheets crumpled and tousled around her, her fingers tracing the curved petals of her rose toy—itching, impatient, needy; waiting for me.

My cock grows. And I, too, meet my impatience.

Just a second. Be good, I respond back to her, locking my phone and immersing myself in reality.

The boys are uncharacteristically quiet, each one indulging in an activity of their own. Jungkook is huffing, his cheeks full and around, staring down his plate of food as if it was about to grow its own legs and walk away from him. Jimin is watching him with an endeared smile that is split by a secrecy all of us are aware of. Lopsided, its glow is shunned out by the tender, doleful layer of wetness in his eyes. And I know that his tummy will get full by watching him eat and that it will be his only source of fulfilling food for today.

I clench my fists.

Hobi beside me has finished his own breakfast and has entered his food coma, staring into nothing at the ceiling as he rests his neck against the backrest of the couch. Taehyung is looking at me in a way that brings my eyes back to him for a double take. With a smirk and a glint in the gentleness of his eyes, he flicks his browns at his own phone and nods his head, telling me something in the silent language that I don’t want him to.

He noticed something he shouldn’t have.

The words are flung out of me long before I comprehend what I’m saying, up and ready on my feet, covering my erection with the thick hem of my oversized shirt.

“I’m gonna head to mine for a bit and take a shower,” I announce, making heads lift in my direction, and considering my situation, I cower in shyness, keeping my back to them as I walk towards the front door.

“The stylist is coming at one pm and we have a soundcheck at three thirty,” Namjoon informs, and I pivot to look at him, at all six of them while my hand remains on the doorknob.

Jungkook is rubbing his eyes and I take one last look at his faded mint hair, saying goodbye to it in my heart. I know what hair color I’m changing my silver hair to, thought of it on the plane and was immediately convinced it was my greatest idea. I nod, sweeping my eyes over the last five heads as if I was going to come back to them as a different person.

Perhaps I was.

I ignore Taehyung and his knowing smile as I leave, racking my brain, trying to come up with the reason why he’s acting like this. Did Hobi say something or was I not careful enough, divulging my secret out in the open with my face or my body language? Was the pillow over my lap and my eyes, all of my attention glued to my phone making it that obvious that I’m seeing someone?

How would they react if they knew it was the Kitty girl?

I leave it be for now, my cock asking for attention. I fish out my hotel key card and close everything behind me. Taehyung’s all seeing eye, Jimin’s diet and I stoop in my homesickness.

It’s been two days and I feel as though Kitty ripped my heart out of my chest and folded it somewhere inside her purse when we hugged for the last time. I reminisce on her innocent touch on my neck, the only place she ever touched me besides my hair, on her lips that pressed against that place her hands warmed as I video call her.

She picks up, immediately.

I can only see her round head, the red of her hair sprawled messily on the silky, light beige cover of her pillow while the rest of her body is shrouded by that material. She smiles at me, no hint of embellishment lining her face—and something tells me that she’s all bare underneath her bed sheets, too.

I palm my cock, desperate.

“How long were you gonna keep me waiting?” she asks, and proves me right as she raises a hand and props it behind her head, the duvet drifting down a little and exposing the beginning of her fleshy peak and my mouth waters. I licked and kissed that breast of hers once upon a time and I would do anything to have that opportunity right now. I would do a better job; I would drive her insane. Spoil her with kisses so harsh that she would reach a point in heaven that no one ever has.

I think about her question and deem I could never keep her waiting long if I were all by myself. “You know who I was with. Was I supposed to pull out my dick in front of them?”

She giggles at my bizarre response, shifting her head to find a more comfortable spot, and the wholeness of her breasts greets me.

Bless all silky beddings. The superior invention of all.

“Oh, hello there,” I joke, deepening her giggles and she angles her phone so I don’t see anything, breaking me apart.

I shall punish her for it.

I set my phone down against the table by the wall and take my shirt off. My angle allows her to see the state of me that she created with her lust—by telling me that she was up and desperate for me, craving the toy that I bought for her and that she wouldn’t use it unless I did with her at the same time. I didn’t need any details, any obscenities that I know full well she’s capable of giving me. Just her admitting to me that she needed me, trusting me enough with that intimate information made me so hard that I couldn’t contain myself.

I watch her eyes glide down my body that isn’t good enough to be regarded like she does, stopping at the weakness she’s effectuated in my groin. And I let her, the first person who ever looked at me with such raw, undomesticated hunger.

And I wish she would eat me up. Get on a plane, get to this hotel, to my room and take her time taking out my bones. I am for her taking—and I have been since the first time our eyes linked.

“You’re not really helping me right now,” she croaks out, her raspy voice enveloping around my aching cock and I can say the same. Especially when she shifts entirely, rolls over to her tummy and I can see her natural face better, the carmine of her hair that veils and tickles her cleavage, enough that she flicks it behind her shoulder, letting me be the witness to her bare skin.

Now she’s punishing me.

“Was I supposed to help you? I thought we’re helping ourselves,” I tease, and my words pull her mouth apart, even more so when I begin to take off my belt, making sure I tug it out of my belt loops swiftly. She bites her lip, ruining me, and I want to use that leather on her. I fold it in half and point it at her. “This is what you’re getting once I see you.”

She licks the skin she bit onto, her eyes widening, and I quiver—I quiver because she likes the idea.

“What for?” she asks, raising her voice a little bit, and I chuckle.

“For being so goddamn beautiful.”

Kitty blushes and curls her lips under her teeth like I’ve noticed she so often does. I like it so much, so fucking much that I yearn for her to do it when she takes my cock into her throat for the first time.

I know she will do a good job, swallowing every inch.

“Where’s your toy, huh?”

My chuckle is savage this time, vibrating in my sternum and I watch her perk up at the sound like the kitten she is. I descend into madness, willingly, hasty to jump head-first into this thing, despite my following words.

“You just can’t wait, can you?”

Her ‘no’ is etched all over her flushed cheeks and I crave to kiss it, run my lips all over it so they can remember it beyond this day, this month—all the way into the new year.

“Did you pass through security with it or does the entire LAX know what a slut you are?”

Her words spring in me, exciting me further more, and I can’t help but smile and blush, like her. I drop my gaze, fondle the leather of my belt, and I feel little sparks of muted electricity shooting down my arms. My mind outruns me, picturing the way I physically destroy her for her bratty, delicious mouth, and my smile blossoms, denting into my face.

“Your ass is gonna be red, little one. So fucking red you won’t be able to sit down.”

She doesn’t back away at the threat and I visibly see my own reaction reflecting in her. And it’s my mouth that parts this time when she props her phone against something, rises her chest in the air and sits down on her folded legs. And I have to hold onto the table, with the belt still caged in my grasp, when she spreads her thighs and gives me the consent to see all of her.

Her perked, full breasts, asking for me. Her soft tummy, perfect for my hands to hold. And my own personal ruination down low, between those thighs, glistening and sopping wet.

“Not even like this?”

My cock aches. I let go of the belt and the clanging sound accompanies me as I unbutton my pants. “Not even like this.”

My desire lodges at the bottom of me, pent-up and animalistic. And I take my phone, rummage in my opened suitcase for the toy, lube and head for the shower. My manliness doesn’t even move due to how hard I am.

Hearing the sizzling noise of the blasting stream of the shower, her brows scrunch up in confusion and I enjoy her obliviousness to her punishment.

“You’re taking a shower?”

I’m not too sure about how loud the toy is and I’m not risking having my members eavesdropping on our intimate act with their ears pressed against the thin walls. I’m absolutely not risking shit, locking the door behind me after I leave her in the small rectangular hole in the shower and dispose myself of my underwear.

And when I step inside and the water dribbles down my sensitive skin, ignited from my lust and hers, I discover that my plan is working out perfectly.

She can’t see anything.

She can’t see the lower half of my body—and she won’t be able to watch the petal-ornamented mouth of the toy swirling around my cock.

And that’s what she gets, talking like that.

“Get your toy ready, kitty,” I say, letting the water drench me before I get the job done. I push my hair back and I hear her gasp, the sound making me stop my movements. I look over to her, swiping the drops from my eyes, and I find her humping her hand ever so slowly. I rage, beautifully, wishing that was my hand she was gliding her pussy on until I realize that I’m the reason she slid her hand down there. But that still doesn’t mean she’s allowed to do so. “No touching or we stop.”

My heart hammers in my chest when she complies and my weakness for her increases, filling up every part of me until she’s the very owner of me.

I swell up with pride.

“Good girl.”

At my praise she plunges her wet fingers into her mouth and I lose my sanity. I lose my name, my identity, and the knowledge of my whereabouts. I’m not in LA, where I don’t want to be, carrying my responsibilities and the pressure of unfairness on my back, but I’m somewhere else entirely. All by myself in a place, where she’ll soon join me. A wintry island, just for us, where I’m not an idol, where I don’t have a job that forces me away from her, but where I’m free. Free to do whatever I please.

“Good fucking girl. Let me have a taste.” I lean my palms against the edge of the hole and I die when she reaches her shiny fingers towards me, towards the camera. I hum, the sound interwoven with my gentle laughter, and I stop myself before I lick the screen. “Thank you. So good, Kitty. Now, can you be the best girl ever and lick your toy? Make it nice and wet for your pussy?”

Her breath trembles as she exhales, reaching over for the red rose beyond the set-up of her phone. And she rests her chest against the mattress, upthrusts her bum in the air and while she’s this close to the camera, she darts out her tongue and drags it over the silicone hole in the center, her alluring eyes fixed on me.

My arousal oozes out of my tip, scalding hot, and I suck in a breath, fucked out.

“Fuck, baby,” I husk, my eyelids lowering as my whole body catches on fire, and I can’t respire. I grip the edge until my fingers are bathed in white. My desire asks for more. “Spit on it for Oppa.”

She moans and I nearly explode, my memories of her noises when I was tongue-deep in her flooding through my mind, and I can’t take any more of it. Especially not the discovery that she’s keen on titles, keen on me being the dominant one.

My palm itches for my cock, but I won’t give in. Not yet.

Kitty gathers her saliva and she seizes all of me when she spits on it, circling her tongue around the rim, spreading it there. And then she whines and my manliness twitches, painfully, ridding me of any sense I had left.

“Can we start now, please?” she begs, and I’m ready to give her everything.

I moisten my lips. “Wait for just a little while, baby. Let Oppa get his toy ready.”

And under her gaze, I squirt the lube inside the hollowness and all over myself, sighing and tilting my head back when I scatter the liquid along my shaft. The pressure of my fist is delicate, yet it feels as though I’m levitating. I’m confident it’s owing to the fact I’m being watched by those rounded eyes of hers and that she’s observing what her psyche has done to me.

“I want to see you,” she whimpers, and I don’t feel like punishing her any longer.

I unclench my fist. “What pretty word do you use when you ask for something?”

She doesn’t even think about it and my pride enlarges. “Please.”

“That’s a good fucking kitty.”

She sits up and nearly fucks her mattress, moaning into her hand—and I know, I already know that I won’t last long under these circumstances.

I’m so eager to give her what she wants that I don’t perceive that she's never seen this private part of me before until she gasps so fucking loudly that I startle. I’ve set her on the lower shower shelf and her mouth is wide open, the toy prepared in her hand.

“You’re so…” she trails off, shy all of a sudden, and I might pay for her plane tickets after my shower. I’m fucking her so hard that I’ll mark every single inch of mine inside her pretty pussy.

“Tiny,” I finish for her, and she laughs in that dopey way, even though we haven’t even started yet.

“Will that toy even… fit you?” she asks, her pools entwined to my cock, transfixed, and I long to kiss her. Despairingly.

I look down to my little man, to the toy and eventually to her. “I’ll make it fit.”

Her breath hitches in her throat, pleasuring me. “If you talk like that while we do our thing, I won’t be able to hold out.”

I hum, deeply, my endearment. “Why is that a problem?” She’s taken aback, like she always is whenever we talk, and I tilt my head towards the toy in her hand. “I want you to ride it for me.”

She sinks her teeth into her bottom lip and places the rose between her legs without taking her eyes off of mine. Ever so dangerous, ever so aphrodisiacal. “I want you to fuck it for me.”

I groan, wrapping my fist around my shaft. “Turn it on, Kitty. Make yourself feel good.”

She mewls long before she turns it on—and once she does, her chest arches towards me and her eyes flutter back. Her hips slowly find their rhythm as she begins to hump it, unsure at first before falling into its temptation. And then she’s loud, louder than the raging waterfall behind me, sprinkling me, and louder than me when I get to work and tug on my length.

My noises bring her to me, but she doesn’t fix her gaze on mine—they pass down to my cock, her moans becoming needier, and she encourages me to join her.

“Come on, Oppa, it feels so good.”

I wade in a haze, spurred from her pleasure and now the title, unable to move my limbs. “Is it sucking on your clit?”

She nods her head, stopping, but it brings forth more delight for her. She crumbles, her chest curving, and she saves herself from tumbling by propping her palm flat on the mattress, struggling—struggling to breathe, struggling to talk.

“I—I’m not doing it if—if you’re not,” she stutters, her words melting into a whimper and I’m gone.

It’s her energy, her desperation-fueled energy that pushes me to move my other limb and glide the mouth of the toy down my tip. She orders me to turn it on and I do, bending forward in the paralyzing pleasure it begins to give me.

And it’s me who’s loud as it sucks on my head so vehemently that I, too, struggle.

“Fuck, fuck—” I groan, lowering the toy down my length just in time for it to take the other direction, and I don’t moan any of her pet names. No, I moan out her name—and I make her come.

My name breaks on her tongue and it is as my undoing as it is hers. I have to pull it out of me in order not to stop our playtime there, recuperating by watching her convulse while sitting on the toy as it completely traps her in the celestial realm of her orgasm. My cock twitches in the air, yearning to be inside her, and feel her walls spasm around it. I accept my death for the longevity of the bursting of her pleasure and I fall, I face-plant, drastically, for her. Deeper and deeper.

No way back.

“Good girl. So good. Oppa is proud of you.”

She yelps, overstimulation grappling her, and I bite my lip so hard I break skin. She lifts her bum, quivering, and only when she catches her breath and begs me to come for her do I fuck the toy and chase down my own orgasm.

And it doesn’t take long. Not when she topples onto the mattress and her face is what I come on while she, again, joins me, working her fingers on her clit out of my view.

“You know I’m fucking you and not this toy,” I mutter, focusing the suction on my tip as I pound it. And when she moans my name and I hear the squelching of her hole, I throw the toy on the shelf beside my phone and use my hand to stain her face as if she were here with me, on her knees.

My orgasm erupts and erupts, triggering hers, and we come together like this. Close, yet far away. Looking into each other’s eyes—never failing, never deteriorating, never diving into our past pains.

Lightness blankets me and I feel as though I could fly and drift through this world without any burdens to bear on my back. Kitty looks well-spent and I suppose I reflect her all over again—and shall reflect her until my last dying day.

I wipe my screen, my innermost craving still yet not satisfied, and I identify what it truly is. As she raises onto her knees, I lean against the shelf with my elbows and reveal it to her.

“Let me see your pussy. Show me how wet you were for me.”

She saw me up close, I didn’t.

It is only fair.

She swears, enveloping her vulgarities around my name, and she obeys. Lies back down against her silky pillows and takes her phone between her legs, spreading them. She parts her wet folds with the two of her fingers and I salivate. Her clit is swollen and carmine from the intense sucking of the toy, glimmering in the faint light, her lips dripping and her hole squeezing around nothing. I wither in need, tasting blood on my lip, and when she runs all four of her fingers up her clit, I begin to heave.

Hard, all over again.

“Such a pretty pussy. Oppa misses it.”

She purrs nonsense, as sleepy as she is, and the transfer back to reality is brutal. I check the time and it must be almost four AM in Seoul. I grieve the time zone between us, hoping the endeavor we shared was worth her staying up for me.

“Good night, moon kitty. Sleep well.”

She mumbles the same without omitting my newly deep-seated title. The three beautiful words for her form on my tongue, but I don’t say them. I save them for a better time, for the end of this tour, once I fly her to me.

I watch her sleep for a little bit, my cock softening. Her hand is furled under her chin and I think about how she’s protecting my heart right in there. It doesn’t allow me to end the call, so I take a shower, place her on the sink when I dry myself off, on the table when I dress myself and turn my microphone off when I blow dry my hair.

It is only when Jungkook knocks on my door and sloshes his sudden plan over me that I am forced to let her flow in her dreams without me and keep them undisturbed.

What he tells me is my duty and I don’t hesitate to pocket my inconspicuous knife that carries too many bad memories.

I thank him in my head that I get to wash those memories away with a different blood.

What he tells me is this: “Come with me, hyung, we have a son of a bitch to mutilate.”

𓂃 ౨ৎ LOVE-KISSED BABIES: @tkslovechild, @jjk7k, @parkinglot-nights, @bethvar, @Sexytholland, @yoongibaybee, @crystaleah,@fennecnco, @lil-kpopstan, @euphoricmyth, @jungkoock, @cinmmongirl, @hoseokkie-caeks, @kam9404, @fr0ggieth1nk.

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alphabetboyluvr · 7 months ago

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HUSH | MYG - TWO

pairing: rockstar!yoongi x female reader | mutual disdain - lovers (but also strangers - lovers? kinda?)

premise: in which you work for your brothers band by day and accidentally anonymously sext his bandmate on the regular by night! whoops !!

wc: 10k

for more details, pls see the master list (x)

note from holly: if you've read hush over on wattpad, then you've already seen this! sorry!! but this is everything that was on wattpad--the next upload will be 100% fresh hehe

warnings: alcohol, foul language, creepy men in bars, sexting (minimal!! very brief!), yoongi is both an asshole and a good guy, oc and yoongi are dumb!! and argumentative!! we learn a teeny tiny bit more lore for the night that never was!!

the app (x) | the band (x) | part one (x)

minors dni!!!

GOLDEN CLOSET STUDIO Big Hit Ent, Yongsan-gu

"Back again so soon?" Jungkook grins when you traipse into his studio the next morning.

Slumping down onto the sofa with a groan, you get comfortable like it's a second home to you. Only just gone midday, you're exhausted. You'll tell anyone who asks that you went out for a morning run, but you'll be lying through your teeth.

See, what made you tired may have given flushed cheeks, but sadly no cardio was involved. Just some pixels. Words. Another goddamn video call of a bedroom you know so damn well but have never stepped foot within. From his belly button down, you'd recognise your Damocles boys in a heartbeat. Wonder if you'd be able to tell if you saw him in the wild, fully clothed.

You doubt it.

No, what's made you so tired isn't the things that get you up in the morning, but rather the things that keep you up all night.

Or just 'thing'.

A singular.

You're not sure you want to classify him as a person, because currently he's just pixels on a screen - but the images those pixels so often make? The dirty words that form in negative spaces just for you to see?

Yeah. You think that he's too good to be true. Can't be a real man.

"Meeting," you mumble into the cushion of the chair. "You know how many logistics are involved in taking you guys on tour? It's mad."

"Logistics?" He snorts, knowing your job has nothing to do with that side of the business.

"I'm shadowing," you reply. "Jinyu sweet-talked someone she knows in that department. Following one of the planners around for the week."

"Really tryna work your way up, huh?" Jungkook asks, before quietly musing, "Hope Jinyu'll sweet-talk me some time."

He's not wrong. About working your way up, that is. Jinyu will never sweet-talk him.

Big Hit is a great stepping stone - an industry outlier, built from the ground up - but you don't want to be in your brother's shadow for too long.

You fear it'll look like you're complacent; as if you want an easy life that you don't have to work hard for. Get some experience, get a good reference, and get out; that's the plan. Maybe work somewhere overseas, away from the confines of your family name.

You don't entertain Jungkook's musings, instead opting to shuffle a little further into his sofa. It's leather and still smells brand new - not because it is, but because Jungkook is meticulous in his cleaning regimes. Will probably wipe it down after you leave. Is perhaps the neatest rockstar you've ever known - not that you know all that many.

And that's exactly your issue; even if you want to get out of Seokjin's shadow, you've no idea where to turn to. Bright light saturates everything else. Here, you're hidden. Safe. Comfortable.

Well, comfortable except for one particular thorn in your side.

"Get your song sorted with Yoongi last night?" You ask, genuinely curious about it. You're also incredibly nosey, and Yoongi is a dick. What you'd like to hear is that he's annoyed and frustrated, because that's how he makes you feel.

It's selfish to think that way. The album cycle is well and truly underway, and the boys are cramming every spare moment into perfecting it. You aren't too aware of the process, you just know that Yoongi speaks to you even less now that the stress is mounting.

They're made for the stage. Would spend all day every day performing, if it was sustainable. Don't enjoy the downtime - but you think it's because the slowness of it all interferes with their live fast, die young bullshit.

Jungkook shakes his head. "It's missing something. Can't figure out what. We're gonna leave it until after the Europe dates. Hopefully will have found some inspiration over there."

You accept his answer without a response. Know that any advice you could give would be redundant. You don't know the first thing about music production, and think it would be a waste of energy to float ideas for a song you've not even heard.

"Think Yoongi needs to rest," Jungkook muses a little mindlessly. "Was here till stupid o'clock last night."

You mumble a response, and Jungkook takes it as an indication to continue.

"Last email he sent was at like, what? Three in the morning? How his brain could've still been working, I've no idea."

"He's a night owl," you hum, as if it's a new discovery. "Works better that way. It's like you work best after a good sleep. He works best a little sleep-deprived."

"Yeah but how?!"

"I dunno. Brain science. Ask Yoongi. He probably knows. Psychology n shit."

Jungkook just rolls his eyes. He won't be asking Yoongi.

Just like he also won't be asking Yoongi if he wants to join you all for drinks later that evening.

That job? Yeah, that's up to you.

Neither you, Jimin, nor Jungkook wanna ask Yoongi, mainly because you all know he'll just say 'no.' What's the point?

A fierce battle of rock-paper-scissors had been fought earlier that evening, and you'd been the poor sod declared as the loser.

Already half a bottle down, they're drinking in Jungkook's studio (even if Hoseok strictly forbode it the last time they got legless at work (as if his orders have ever stopped them from doing anything they wanted)) when you finally meet them again.

They're getting a headstart on the evening's festivities.

It's nothing special. Just a chance for them all to hang out properly after the Seoul shows.

They rarely ever 'hang out', 'cause work often feels like that anyway. It's only when they take a break that they realise how much they enjoy each other's company. A few days rest from one another is always welcome - but exceed three days, and they start to get withdrawal symptoms.

"Ready to go?" You ask, but are met with curt shakes of their heads.

Jimin passes you the bottle of beer he's been nursing on. As you take a swig, he reminds you, "You've not asked Yoongi yet."

Lips pressed to the rim of the bottle, you roll your eyes. Have half a mind to backwash in retaliation, but you don't fancy bickering this early on in the night.

Shaking your head, you swallow down the froth. "He'll say no."

"Buuuuut," Jungkook sings, as if he thinks he can serenade you into asking Yoongi. "What if he says yes?"

"Well, one of you can ask!" You whine. Yoongi's studio is the last place you want to go to - especially after the messages he sent you last night, warning you about your relationship with Jungkook. "Give him your doe eyes, Kook. It'll work."

A game of rock, paper, scissors is legally binding, though. Jungkook tells you so. Says if you don't go and ask Yoongi, he'll be forced to take you to court.

"I've got Big Hit lawyers," he reminds you.

"Is this a threat?!"

"Yep. Now go ask Yoongi!"

You argue a little longer. Jimin takes two shots during that time. Jungkook interpretive dances whenever you make a compelling statement as to why you shouldn't be the one asking. You frown whenever he does the robot.

And so, mainly to get away from any more of Jungkook's bizarre hip-gyrations, you traipse down to the end of the corridor, where Yoongi's so-called Genius Lab resides.

The wait at his door is awkward. You question yourself, what you'll say, how you should stand. First impressions are everything, and if he's greeted with shitty energy, he'll give it back in return. You know him well enough to know this for a fact.

After a lifetime of waiting (27 seconds, to be exact), there's a mechanical whir of the lock coming undone.

"Hey," you offer a smile as you're greeted with his typical face of thunder. "Been sent to retrieve you. We're going out tonight. All of us."

He knows the plans. Is in the group chat. Ignored the messages for a reason.

His stare is a little frosty but not unkind. Just uninterested. "Can't."

"Can't or won't?"

"Both?"

You might be deluding yourself, but you think he smiles slightly when he says that.

"Ah, but you can and you will go to the ball, Cinders," you joke, giving him a small curtsy. "All work no play makes Yoongi a dull boy."

You're joking, but you believe it. He's been miserable the last few months. Keeps himself hauled up in his studio when they're not on the road, and avoids social interaction like the plague. It maddens you. How is he gonna write songs about life and the importance of living one, if he won't let himself do the same?

He's hard to read as he sighs, and pinches the bridge of his nose. Shakes his head, then opens his door a little wider. Encourages you into his space.

A candle burns on his desk, faintly vanilla in its scent, making it feel far cosier than actually is. The room is sullen; dark greys and little else. In fact, it surprises you he's gone for such a pretty cream candle. LED lights that are hidden in the walls glow a deep blue, and it's no wonder he's so miserable. There's no passion in his little pit. No life. Just him, some screens, and the whir of computer fans.

"Will you give something a listen?" He asks, quite clearly seeing you as a last resort - but when you hit rock bottom, the only direction you can go in is up. He knows you're not musical, not like Jin, but perhaps he needs the ear of a consumer, not a creator. "Been wracking my brain trying to think of what this needs. Have listened to it so many times that nothing sounds right anymore. I just- Could you?" He pauses. Looks quite uncomfortable when he adds, "Please?"

You assume the file up on the central screen is the song he's been working on with Jungkook, so you oblige. Kick your shoes off and leave them by the mat. It's been a while since you've been given the luxury of access to the Genius Lab. You used to know the code.

Things with Yoongi used to be different, though.

Not much has changed within his four dark walls since then. He's gained a new painted canvas in the corner of the room, stacked behind the existing ones. It's deep navy blue. Sort of like him, you think. The blue continues. Illuminates his work area. No wonder he never sleeps. The mood lighting is cold. Alert. Is bound to fuck with his brain.

There are more speakers than you can fathom, and switchboards you can't even begin to understand. The programs that Yoongi's running on his computers are familiar, though. You've seen them enough times to get a rough idea of the composition. Can see tabs labelled for Jin's vocals.

Yoongi turns his chair as the door clicks shut, automatic lock whirring into place. There was a time when that sound would have excited you. Not for any lewd, scandalous reason - just for the fact there used to be a time, many moons ago, when you thought Min Yoongi was the hottest man to have ever graced the earth.

And can you blame yourself?

His midnight hair gracefully frames his face, perfectly waved, dark eyes stark against his pale complexion. His skin is dewy, cheeks a little puffy from his lack of sleep and the fact all he has in his system is an iced americano and blue Powerade - yet still, his features are sharp. A white shirt hangs off his broad shoulders, dainty bracelets sitting on his pretty wrists.

Every bit the heartthrob, he's only gotten better with age - but you've grown up, too. Are wiser now. Understand that devastatingly handsome men will always inevitably devastate you, too.

It's for that reason Min Yoongi doesn't bother you in the same ways that he used to. That, and the night that never was.

As you said, devastatingly handsome men will only ever devastate you, too. He's proven that point already.

He points to his chair. "Sit."

The way he's so demanding with his tone annoys you. You shake your head. Choose to stand. "It's cool. Just play the song."

You don't mean to be so sharp. So curt. You're just thinking about how unbearable he's been recently - especially last night. He'd left you on read. Obviously wasn't happy with your response, not that you care.

"Please don't be difficult," he says softly. "Just sit so you can listen properly."

Why your stature could possibly impact your ears and their ability to listen, you'll never know - but you don't argue. As much as Yoongi's contempt for you these days annoys you, you don't want to make it any worse than it already is.

The leather of his chair is warm from his perch. Kind of nice how despite his cool demeanour, he's always a little toasty. He brings the heat of Daegu with him wherever he goes.

"I'm all ears," you tell him, and watch as he presses down on the play button.

"It's not the full song," he says over the melody of an upbeat track. "You'll know the bit I mean though. It's like, not bad, but-"

"Yoongi, shush," you smile, making sure you catch his eye as you do so. Don't want him to think you're snapping. You just wanna hear the sections he's uncertain about in context with the rest of the song.

Quiet as the track begins to echo out, there's an uncharacteristically quaint piano faintly guiding the track. You know he plays, but it's rare for it to be a focal part of the songs he creates.

You understand immediately which section Yoongi's having trouble with - not because it sounds bad, just because the drop before the final chorus doesn't hit quite right. It builds and builds but the arrival at the final chorus is underwhelming.

"Rewind it a bit," you say, wanting to hear it again. Confirm that it's the right part.

Yoongi does as you ask, leaning over you slightly, and says, "Somethings off, right?"

Nodding, you listen for a third time. "Take away the guitar," you say.

He does. It's better, but still not right.

"Maybe you've overcomplicated it?" you muse, thinking that he needs to strip it back entirely, but not wanting to offend him.

"Hmm," he hums. "You think?"

He mutes a few more layers on the track. Plays it again. It's getting there.

"Better, right?" you ask.

He nods as he stands up straight, listening to it over again. Frowns. "Still not quite there."

"I think it might benefit from some distance," you suggest. "Come out with us tonight. Get your mind off this track. Might even get some inspiration."

Shaking his head, he watches as you stand and head towards the door. He's not been out with you since the night that never was. Doesn't enjoy the prospect of risking it all after a couple of drinks inevitably turns into a couple of bottles again - of which he knows it will. If you and Jimin are together, it will be messy. Just how it goes. Throw Jungkook and Tae into the mix? Disaster waiting to happen.

"Look," you sigh. "I know it's not really your thing - but the rest of the boys are game. They all want you there. Just think about it, okay?"

He purses his lips together. Smiles, and turns to face his computer screen once more. "Thanks for your help."

And just like that, you're dismissed. Considering the way he'd messaged you about Jungkook the day before, it went pretty well, you think. Try not to dwell on the fact he couldn't be less interested even if he tried.

It's funny, 'cause as Yoongi stews in his chair, rocking ever so gently, he sighs. Shakes his head. Grumbles to himself quietly: "'they all want you there'... but do you want me there?"

The boys aren't so disappointed when you return with no Yoongi behind you. They all knew what his answer would be, and only sent you so they didn't have to deal with his rejection.

"Took your time," Jimin notes.

You shrug. Deadpan. "Yeah, sorry, got distracted. Too busy shagging him."

"Really?!"

"No, of course not," you laugh, as if it's the funniest suggestion in the world. You sort of think it is. "Nah, he just wouldn't be convinced."

And so it comes as a surprise to everyone when Yoongi shows up at Jimin's place a couple of hours later with a bottle of whisky in hand.

"Shut the fuck up," is all he says as he walks into an absolute commotion, practically everyone in the room elated by his decision to join in. He hides his smile poorly, occasionally letting his teeth show despite his protests.

From the sofa, you catch his eye. Nod. He bunches up his face a little. Nods back - but is quickly distracted by Jimin holding up a clear shot glass filled with fuck knows what. You, too, find yourself distracted by chatter with the rest of the boys and a couple of the girls from the artist liaison team.

In the corner of the room, your phone is plugged into a charger. It's been there since you arrived. You've no need to check it - but you can never leave it too long.

You smile, butterflies kissing your tummy and making their way through your body when you eventually check it.

D4m0cl3s: got a work thing tonight, so probably won't be able to message much gonna be thinkin' about u tho don't miss me too much, clemmie x

The smile is hard to hide. You blame it on the alcohol.

Kind of like how Yoongi smiles half an hour later when he checks his own phone.

Cl3m3ntin3: been a busy bee today, sorry :( all work, no play? :( it'll make you dull, damocles boy x

But then he watches you as you laugh with Jungkook about something trivial. Reads over his messages again. Shakes his head.

Remembers you trying to convince him to join for the evening. How you'd called him Cinders. Told him that all work and no play made him dull.

His heart thuds in his chest. He swallows harshly. Pours a whisky. Swallows that, too.

Breathes a sigh of relief as he taps through a message - 'it's a play thing for work. promise i'll behave x' - and watches your phone after it's marked as 'delivered' in his chat feed.

Your phone is screen-up on the kitchen counter, just within his line of vision. It doesn't light up. Doesn't vibrate. Receives no message.

"Thank fuck," he mumbles, the sinking feeling in his chest lifting as he grabs a fresh whisky.

He quickly walks away from the scene of a crime that never was. Sort of like the night that never was. Is so pleased, in fact, that he's happy to sit beside you on the sofa as Jungkook sets up a drinking game with Jin.

Silly, really, how a few drinks seem to make him forget the concept of 'do not disturb' mode.

"Hey," you smile and he comes to sit down. "Glad you made it."

"Me too," he nods, lips thin, chin dimpling as a shy smile graces his face. He's a little whisky tipsy. Doesn't feel the need to keep such a strict distance from you, now.

"To a good night," you raise your glass to him, and he reciprocates. Clinks them together.

"To a good night."

STAIRWAY BAR Itaewon-ro, Yongsan-Gu

♪ // You First (Re: Remi Wolf)- Paramore

"You're never gonna be this young and this hot again," Jimin slurs after a few too many lemon drops. It's his third time making this point, because it's the third time you've shooed away a guy trying to make a move on you.

They've all been perfectly fine. Nice enough guys, you're sure, but you aren't interested in random hookups. The night really isn't about that. All you want to do is let your hair down with the boys you've known for most of your life.

As Jimin whines about the fact no one is ready to move onto a club yet, bored of the bar, part of you considers the novel idea that one of the men in your rejection pile could have been your Damocles boy. A funny thing to think about, really. He did say he was busy tonight. Said it was for work, but everyone knows how rowdy work dinners can get after the boss leaves.

He could be here. Could have his tail between his legs. Could be looking at you right now, without a clue.

The reality of that wouldn't please you, for it would mean he's out there searching for other women.

While he'd be well within his right to, you selfishly find that that you don't want him to. In fact, all you wanna do is send him a message. Let him know you're thinking of him. That you wish you were at home right now, alone in your sheets with nothing but an internet connection and that damn app to keep you company.

You're with friends, though. Can't open the app without fear of endless ridicule - and not to mention the fact your brother is with you. Not worth it.

As you come to join them, a fresh drink in your hand, you're easily distracted. Are brought back to reality by your favourite people. Neon lights on the ceiling, and relics of time spent in the bar pinned to the walls. Photobooth pictures, foreign currency. Life is embedded into the seams of this place, and it's reassuring, in a way. Makes your dependency on your Damocles boy a lot less intense. You can forget him. Live life. Neglect to check your phone.

"Objection!" Jungkook chimes, following you and Jimin to the corner booth of the bar where the rest of your friends sit. "Older women are, like, so hot. So damn hot. Damn." And then he's thinking to himself. Brows furrowed, pouty lips whistling out a hearty sigh as he shakes his head. Thinks about Jinyu. A couple of the older women at the record company. About Jimin's mother. Laughs. Nods. "Yeah, older women are where it's at."

Both of you look at him with an air of confusion, and yet neither of you question it.

"What did I miss?" Jin beams when he rejoins you, as a member of the bar staff follows him with a bottle of Ciroc resting in an ice bucket. Another staff member will soon bring you cans of drink to use as mixers, but you know damn well these boys will be shotting it down straight.

The bottle won't be on the house, but you know Jin will have charged it back to the company. Will get a bollocking from Hoseok the next time he's in the office. Doesn't care, cause he knows the band makes the record company more money than anyone else on the roster at the moment. The way he sees it, it's their money anyway.

"Jungkook's just declared his love for older ladies," Taehyung deadpans from the sofa opposite yours. "Nothing new."

"Better older than younger," Jin asserts, playfully pushing against your forehead as he walks past you and back to his seat.

As much as you're your own person, you're still his little sister, and the rest of his unruly group of friends will do well to remember that.

Jungkook snorts. Throws a smirk in your direction. "I can make exceptions."

"And I can get away with murder, Kook," Jin assures him - and he's probably right. As much as they like to play into the rock and roll lifestyle, they've got power. Fame. Something that hides them just as much as it projects them. "Don't even think about it."

There's laughter and chatter amongst everyone at such a declaration, but you can't help but wonder if a certain pair of eyes glanced your way upon hearing that.

It's not like Yoongi doesn't know Jin harbours such feelings. Told you the exact same thing, once: that Jin'd murder Jungkook if anything ever happened between the pair of you.

But you also remember what came next.

Even if it's never been spoken about since, you know that remembers, too. The way he refused to reply to your last text is testament to it.

See, he's been avoiding you since long before you got your little job with the company. Would turn down plans if you were in attendance. Declined invites to dinner, and bailed on drinks. Once you started working in such close proximity, it was harder to keep his distance, and so he built up walls.

They're steep, and they're topped with barbed wire. Impenetrable, or so it would seem.

Climbing has never been a strong point of yours, and scaling walls doesn't feel like a pastime you'd enjoy very much, so Yoongi's safe distance from you is kept. He's feline, in that way; how he'll stalk up trees and sit in amongst the branches, peering down at you. Out of reach, holding all the cards.

Flicking your eyes across to him, you find him embroiled in conversation with Namjoon. He's laughing, which admittedly does make you smile. It's been so long since you've been afforded the luxury of witnessing such a thing.

But you're torn from your thoughts by a sudden, sharp tug on your wrist, and don't even realise Jimin is dragging you out of your seat until you're already stumbling behind him. With a shrill yelp and soft giggle, you let him pull you to the stairs that lead up from the basement bar to the earthly realm above.

"C'mon," Jimin calls behind himself, as if you have any choice in the matter. He's got a death grip on you. You're coming along whether you like it or not. "The rest of them are being boring. I wanna dance."

"Maybe I was enjoying being boring!" You argue just for the sake of it, tapping at your pockets to make sure you've still got your phone with you. Not for any particular reason. Just to be safe. Totally not because you fear losing your only contact with your virtual lover. Nothing like that at all.

"Tough," Jimin asserts, not caring where you both end up just as long as there is a dancefloor and a dark corner.

It isn't for any sinister reason, but just because he isn't looking to be the life and soul of the party. His face isn't recognised in the same way that the other boys are, but it doesn't matter. He attracts attention regardless. Goes with the territory of having a face like his. Irresistible to men and women alike. You're yet to meet anyone who doesn't think he's the most beautiful man alive - though Jin certainly does take issue with such a title being awarded to anyone else but him.

But just like Jin, there's a magnetism about Jimin. Moths to a flame, the rest of the boys follow suit and head up towards the street. The entire area code is a cluster of bars and hole-in-the-wall food joints. It's made for this time of the night, when the clouds are shielding the eyes of the moon from all sorts of sin, just a few stray stars guiding the way.

Light pollution bleeds upwards and out. Even if you know the stars are there, you can't see them - and it's not like you get the chance to check either way, for Jimin's already pulling you down the stairs to another basement bar.

This one is larger - two stories. Quieter on the first floor, it's the second level where he wants to be.

A planner in both professional and personal life, even though he seems erratic and all out of order, Jimin has everything under control. Knows the managers of most (if not all) of the bars on this street. Called a favour in this afternoon for one of the downstairs booths, just adjacent to the dancefloor, to be roped off & reserved. Knew that some of the boys would, in his mind, be 'boring', but still wanted everyone together. It's the best of both worlds. He can dance, and they can talk, or whatever they wanna do.

♪ // Desert Eagle - Silica Gel

Min Yoongi doesn't dance. He drinks. He observes. He watches the debauchery unfold from a safe distance, much like he does with you. Sometimes - not always - he thinks. Ponders. Wonders if maybe he's wasting his time by not indulging in the same way other people do. If he's missing out. Considers perhaps his friends are right to revel in such mindless frivolities.

He doesn't debate his choices often, but as he gets comfortable in this new place, he can't help it. Thinks word must have gotten out about their planned attendance, 'cause he notices far more eyes on them than normal. Far more women vying for their attention. Men, too. Whether it be sex or status, their intrigue is always fuelled by something.

The rest of the boys revel in it.

Yoongi doesn't care for it - but there's a reputation to uphold. A brand image that being spotted in clubs and getting up to no good only helps. Seals them as the real deal. Gets them out of the bracket of 'posers' or manufactured, not that it really fuckin' matters.

There are two girls to each of them. Supply and demand. There aren't enough of The Scouts to go around, but people will share. Will take all they can get. Sharp eyeliner, pretty hair, the girls all have their wits about them, and it's potentially the worst part of it all - they're making the conscious, informed choice to lower themselves to a standard well beneath their worth.

The club stinks of sticky liquor and smoke, but beneath the veil they're all wearing the same perfume. Whatever's currently being marketed as 'irresistible' to men. Was vanilla a few years ago. Yoongi is certain it's something muskier now, but isn't sure what. Makes no difference to him.

There's only one perfume he knows he really likes, and has trained himself to despise it by association.

It's a shame that he hasn't trained himself to stop looking in your direction whenever he thinks of you. Is part of the reason he doesn't like drinking around you. Makes such stupid mistakes. His malevolent mask fails to hide him. The facade slips.

Tongue resting in the corner of his mouth, he doesn't realise he's staring. Eyes dark as they watch you with Jimin, Yoongi wonders if you've always had that tattoo just above your elbow. It's small, and dainty. Hard to make out from where he is, but when your arms are in the air, he's fixated on it. Thinks it must be new.

But then your arms drop to rest on Jimin's shoulders, and he's reminded of what you look like when you're all hot and bothered. Reminded of that night. The one that never was. Haunted by the rivulet of sweat that had trickled down your skin in a sauna that neither of you had any business being inside; just you and him in a silent descent into sin, and the smirk on your lips as his eyes had followed the droplet down your body.

His attention is yanked from you when an ice cube lands in his lap. Glacing across to the direction it came from as he pushes it to the floor, Yoongi scowls at Jungkook. "The fuck was that for?"

"Remember the rules," Jungkook smirks. "Look, but don't touch."

"Wasn't fuckin' looking," Yoongi sneers, completely ignorant of the women vying for his attention. "Was just thinking Jimin needs to to sober up. Man's a state. And unlike you, I wouldn't touch her if humanity depended on it."

"I'm a man of the people," Jungkook teases. "If repopulating the earth was my duty, I'd do it. Can't believe you wouldn't."

"She's got where she is today through sheer nepotism and audacity alone," Yoongi counters. "Doesn't have the kinda genes you'd wanna repopulate the earth with."

"Foul," Taehyung laughs. He's the only one of the boys without women hanging off him. Is stern and authoritative in his rejection of their advances; not yet married but wears a ring around his finger to let them know he's deadly serious. Landed himself in hot water a few months back after photos of him talking to a girl outside a bar - no matter how innocently - circulated online. A bad angle and misrepresentation of events had almost decimated the one thing he cares about more than the band: his relationship. Refuses to ever let it happen again. "Absolutely foul, Yoongi. You know you don't mean that."

"He just needs to get laid," Jungkook chimes in. "Has been celibate for so long he's forgotten how good sex is. Used to be a time he'd fuck anything willing with a pulse-"

It's not untrue. He was reckless in his youth - but aren't we all?

"Yeah, and then I grew up, Kook," Yoongi says with little to no emotion, getting to his feet. Taps his pocket to check for his phone, and then taps the other for his wallet. All there. "Should try it."

When Yoongi looks back up to the crowd, you're gone. He rolls his eyes. Shakes his head. Is almost mentally berating you, as if you've done something wrong - but you haven't, and he damn well knows it.

Perhaps that's the most frustrating part of it all: everything falls back on him. The awkwardness. The cold shoulders. The night that never was. If he would have just made more sensible choices back then, things could be easier now.

It's not that things are hard, as such - just that they aren't how they used to be. Rose-tinted glasses, and all that.

Over by the bar, there's a haze around you: clouded judgement, misted intentions.

The smallest things put a smile on your face, thanks to the alcohol in your veins. Could be the song that's already been played three times coming on yet again. Could be witnessing some random guy get pied by every single girl he approaches. Could be the way your vodka orange takes like juice. Anything and everything feels light. Airy. Breezy.

"What's so funny?" Some guy asks, leaning in a little closer to you - and just like that, your mood is soured. You're not here to make friends, but rather spend time with your pre-existing ones, and judging by the look on his face, he's hoping for a little more than friendship.

"Oh, nothing," you smile politely, crossing your arms over your chest as you angle your body away from his. Hope that he'll get the message.

He does. Just doesn't like it very much.

"No need to be a bitch," he sneers under his breath just loud enough for you to hear.

Normally, you'd leave it. Let him have his little tantrum. Be a big baby.

But you were in such a good mood, and you're annoyed that he's ruined it.

Wanna ruin his, too.

Snapping back to face him, you're about to launch into a tirade, but you come face-to-face with a chest that looks far too good in a simple T-shirt and find yourself faltering, instead.

Yoongi looks down at you, eyes dark, scowl ever-present. Says nothing. Just nods. You think he's asking if you're okay - so you nod back. Won't get into a debate over the fact you were perfectly fine, and have no issue asserting your boundaries with strangers.

Shoulders broad, the guy who had been bothering you is entirely eclipsed by Yoongi.

Glancing across to the bar staff, Yoongi nods. "Hibiki." Glances down at you. Checks the colour of your glass. It's obscured by the bar lights, but he knows it isn't dark enough to be coke, and remembers your order from before things got complicated. Figures some things haven't changed. Looks back towards the server. "Vodka Orange." Passes over his card. Says nothing to you. Just keeps his eyes on yours.

There's a subtle blush dusting his cheeks. The heat, you think. It's unnoticeable for the most part, but sometimes the lights hit him just right, and you're reminded of how warm he can be. How inviting.

He's always been impressive. Taller in sheer presence than he is in stature. Even back in high school, his nature was domineering. Respected. Lips gently parted, you're unable to move. Suddenly, nothing is funny anymore. It's heavy. Thick. Suffocating. You're deaf to the bass of the music that thumps through your body. Ignorant of the people moving around you.

But then Yoongi's being offered his card back, and Jimin bounds on into you like a lost puppy finally finding its owner.

"For me?!" Jimin exclaims as the drinks are slid across the bar, passing the vodka orange to you and picking up Yoongi's whisky for himself.

Shaking yourself from the shackles of Yoongi's stare, you look down. Realign your mind. Glance back over and nod a silent thank you - but then you turn and leave the drink by the bar. Head for the bathrooms. Refuse to look back, so utterly perplexed by what on earth just happened.

In a frank, factual recount of the events, Yoongi just stood beside you and ordered a drink.

In your hysterical, deluded mind, Yoongi just stood beside you and opened the skies; let a flood of water torrent down. Drowned everyone in the process save for you - except you're the one gasping now as you stare yourself out in the bathroom mirror.

Phone still on don't disturb, you pull it from your pocket and check just in case he's thinking of you.

Not Yoongi, no. You push him out of your mind. Think of your Damocles boy. He's the one you wished had joined you at the bar. The one you've been yearning for all night.

And sure enough, he has been thinking of you, too.

D4m0cl3s: there are some weirdos out and about tonight, clem keep yourself safe for me, okay?

It's strange, how guilt needlessly creeps in so silently that you don't even realise it's there until an invisible hand is over your mouth. You're suffocating again, or so it would seem. Drowning, maybe. Perhaps Yoongi wasn't saving you at all; he was dragging you down instead.

You wish you were at home. Wish you weren't so drunk. Wish you could think straight. Wish your balance was a little better - but it's not, and as you try and think of a response that goes beyond 'i miss you' or a 'you should be here', you stumble a little. Lose your footing. Grab onto the sink to stop yourself from falling over entirely, only to send your phone crashing to the floor.

"Fuck," you curse, scrambling down to get it, only to be greeted with a fracture splintering right over the top of your front camera. Pulling up the app, it's very quickly clear that the camera absolutely ruined - but for the most part, your screen is okay. "Fuck."

You think it's a sign: go home.

Even if you're drunk, and you're in the business to make some bad decisions, you know that your Damocles boy is right. There are some weirdos about tonight, and as fucked up as it all seems, 'safe' feels a lot like a message thread with a man you've never met.

Instead of replying to him, you open up your thread with Jimin. Let him know you're going home. Make your way up the stairs and out of the bar without looking back. It's rare for you to cry when you drink, but it kind of feels like you will now, and for no good reason. Just had a little too much, that's all.

The light around fades from the invasive red of the club into the murky blue hues of the streets.

And yet, there's a lovely little red flag waiting by the top of the stairs, unaware of your decision to head home, too.

"You leaving already?" You chirp in surprise upon realising who it is.

The sound of your voice, and the fact it's addressing him, seems to take Yoongi by surprise when he turns to face you.

"I, uh," he pauses. Looks down. Seems to be a little flustered. You wonder what's going inside that head of his, but when his eyes meet yours again, you decide you're better off not knowing. "Can't be home too late. I'm sorta seeing someone. Gotta get back for them."

"Oh," you say quietly.

I'm seeing someone.

"Yeah."

It's not like it matters, it's just that you never expected to hear him say those words. He's married to his music. Always has been. Spends his nights in the studio, not sleeping next to someone else.

Or perhaps he doesn't anymore. Just goes to show how little you know of his life these days.

"That's nice," you chirp, swallowing down your surprise. "Yeah. That's really nice, actually. I'm pleased for you."

In a way, it makes sense. Perhaps his strangeness lately has been less to do with you and more to do with himself and the fact he genuinely doesn't care about the past anymore. Thoughts of the night that never was are genuinely reserved for your brain, and your brain alone. Have no place in his. His warning about Jungkook was due to lessons learned by him.

"And you?" He asks, noticing the slight discomfort in your tone. He wouldn't normally entertain such frivolous conversations with you, but he's only human. Alcohol still gets him a little loose-lipped, too. "What's new in your love life?"

You laugh, now. Good fuckin' question. Genuinely don't know how to describe your Damocles boy, or if you even want to.

"Nothing new."

"No?"

"No," you smile in such a way that Yoongi knows you're not telling the whole truth - but who is he to pry?

"Well," he says, then coughs to clear his throat. Look out to the street ahead of you both. It's full of drunk revellers, and you're certain at least half of them will have The Scouts in their playlists. Yoongi's position in the band means he's never front and centre, so no one notices him like this. If they do, they're being incredibly discreet about it. "I'm sure you'll meet someone soon."

"Maybe," you shrug, knocking your shoulder against his arm. "Be easier if you didn't stand in front of every guy who shows an interest in me."

"It was one guy," he laughs, knowing not to take you too seriously. "And you know he was a creep. Was just standing in for your brother."

"Yeah," you nod, not caring to counter him, or to remind him how fucked up it is to refer to himself like that. Folding your arms over your chest, you're regretting the lack of a coat. Had left it back at pre-drinks, because a little bit of liquor and you suddenly think you're a child of the sun. "You're right. Thanks for that."

"No worries," Yoongi shrugs. Is about to offer you his jacket, when a taxi rolls up. "This yours?"

"Yeah," you nod, recognising the number plate from the taxi you'd ordered via an app when you'd been in the bathroom. "Want a lift?"

He shakes his head. "Gotta head to the studio first."

"Yoongi, you're drunk," you laugh. "What did I tell you about all work?"

"Yeah, yeah, dull boy," he laughs too - but it's not you he's thinking of as he recites it. It's the girl he's heading home for that enters his mind, and how she'd said something similar. Shaking his head, he's confused at how easily thoughts of her intertwine with how easy it can be to joke with you. Puts it down to the alcohol. His head's a mess. "Inspiration doesn't wait. Let Jimin or someone know when you're home."

"Get in the cab," you insist at his need to be difficult. "I'll route it past the studio. Inspiration doesn't wait," you imitate a little childishly, which does get him smiling. "Better to get to it quickly, no?"

He looks around. Looks a little uncomfortable. You don't take it personally. He looks like this a lot of the time around you. Even before it all got weird.

Eventually, he sighs. Relents.

"Route it to yours," he says. "I'll carry on to the studio."

"Studio is closer," you tell him, knocking your head to the side, pulling open the door. "C'mon. The driver will leave if you don't hurry up."

"And Jin'll kill me if you get stolen," he reminds you, as if that would be likely to happen. Even if the taxi driver was a creep, there are cameras everywhere in places like this. You're as safe as can be. "You first. Non-negotiable."

"You're a tough bargainer," you hum with narrowed eyes. He is at least here, and not walking in the cold. Would have to cross the river to get to the studio, and the thought of any of them drunkenly walking along it alone scares you. "Fine. But you better not get stolen, either. Twitter would have a meltdown- no, Twitter would kill me if you get stolen."

"Shut up," he laughs. Knows The Scouts have a fanbase that could scare even political leaders into submission, if they really wanted to. "They don't even know who you are."

But Yoongi is forgetting who your brother is. Forgetting that there's a good reason why Jungkook has 'look but don't touch' etched into his brain. Forgetting that there are Twitter accounts dedicated to posting updates from your socials, just for a glimpse of The Scouts.

And as you let silence simmer into the taxi, not caring to keep up a conversation, you're none the wiser that those exact fan accounts are currently screaming into the void.

The Yoongi-dedicated update accounts, too.

In fact, the entire app is on fire - and it's not gonna be an easy one to put out.

03:31AM

D4m0cl3s: you still out, clem?

Cl3m3ntin3: why? miss me?

D4m0cl3s: never

Cl3m3ntin3: hmmm well in that case, yes i am x

D4m0cl3s: i think you're lying you answered far too quickly

Cl3m3ntin3: i think you should just admit that you miss me and u just caught me at a good time :/

D4m0cl3s: but i don't? and ur nose must be soooooo big pinocchio

Cl3m3ntin3: yeah you do you've missed me sooooo much tonight, havent you? bet you've been all mopey just thinking about me aaaaaaall night me & my proportionally sized nose x

D4m0cl3s: dunno what you mean

Cl3m3ntin3: well, are you home?

D4m0cl3s: almost

Cl3m3ntin3: not even home yet and already texting me... but you don't miss me? you're lucky you've got such a nice cock i wouldn't let your lies slide so easily if you didn't

D4m0cl3s: so you're only with me for my cock?

Cl3m3ntin3: i'm not with you

D4m0cl3s: ouch noted

Cl3m3ntin3: you're the one who refuses to have me, remember?

D4m0cl3s: you know it's not like that, clem

Cl3m3ntin3: i know, babe i'm just fucking with you figuratively (sadly) i'm with friends though - i'll let you know when i'm alone, alright?

D4m0cl3s: don't worry about me enjoy your night trouble message me in the morning, yeah?

Cl3m3ntin3: if this is a ploy to make me message you first, it wont work

D4m0cl3s: finei 'll message you

Cl3m3ntin3: keen

D4m0cl3s: you love it

Cl3m3ntin3: suuuure i do

D4m0cl3s: stay safe, babe drink water before bed

Cl3m3ntin3: you wanna drink some clementine juice before bed?

D4m0cl3s: i dont think they make clementine juice and no you know the rules sleep off the alcohol first then send me pictures of that gorgeous cunt in the morning, yeah?

Cl3m3ntin3: and what will i get in return?

D4m0cl3s: the video i've just taken of myself stroking my big hard cock just for you

Cl3m3ntin3: fuck send it now? pls x

D4m0cl3s: keen and no x

Cl3m3ntin3: c'monnnn :(

D4m0cl3s: in the morning, baby just know that i'm a little drunk but so fuckin' hard

Cl3m3ntin3: no whiskey dick? i'm impressed

D4m0cl3s: i'm thinking about you nothing will ever stop me from getting hard when im thinking about you

Cl3m3ntin3: watcha thinkin about? gimmie specifics x i wanna touch myself

D4m0cl3s: that pretty cunt of yours how fuckin' wet you get god i wanna fuck you nice and slow NO FUCK STOP TEMPTING ME YOU SIREN

Cl3m3ntin3: 🙁

D4m0cl3s: in the morning

Cl3m3ntin3: you promise?

D4m0cl3s: i promise, baby go spend time with your friends message me if you need anything

Cl3m3ntin3: your dick?

D4m0cl3s: anything other than that you'll get it in the morning, clemmie promise x

D4m0cl3s is offline

GENIUS LAB Big Hit Ent, Yongsan-gu

"All good?" Yoongi hums as the door to his studio clicks shut.

He'd left the door on the latch so you could get back in when you went to the bathroom. Could have just given you the code, but he didn't want you to think he'd be making a habit of this. It's a limited-time offer. Not one that can be redeemed whenever you like. It's now, and now only.

"Yeah, yeah," you nod, pulling on the back of the spare desk chair Yoongi had rolled up beside his. You don't look at him, just at the screens as you tell a little white lie. "Just let Jimin know I was okay."

Yoongi grunts some sort of agreement, but doesn't vocalise a response as such.

It's not like a complete subversion of the truth. A text has been sent to your group chat. The one with just Jungkook and Jimin. No one else needs to know your business, as far as you're concerned.

It's just that a few more texts have been sent to your Damocles boy—but that's none of Yoongi's business. You're sure he wouldn't care to know.

You're also sure he's regretting the request for help bestowed upon you on the ride back. He'd mentioned the song he was going to work on, and you'd offered to lend an ear again.

It's not an unheard-of thing. There are a couple of tracks on the last album that have been tweaked as a result of your ear, including their biggest single. You're not listed in the credits, but you never asked to be. Was just helping out a friend—even if said friend then decided to become an asshole when they started making a name for themselves.

You're tipsy, and so is Yoongi. It's easier to forget how fraught things have become when you're like this. You wouldn't be here right now if you hadn't had a few too many drinks.

You also probably wouldn't be trending all over twitter, but you're still blissfully unaware of this.

"Same track as before, right?" You ask, kicking your shoes off to get a little more comfortable on the chair.

Again, words fail Yoongi. You're forced to decipher his small noises, 'cause it's all he tends to offer you. It's not like it's a uniquely you issue—the boys have learned to speak in Yoongi-code, too.

"Okay, play it from the start," you tell him. "Show me what we're working with."

There's a cautious nature to the way Yoongi works. So preoccupied with creating perfection, he hates letting people hear his work before it's reached his self-imposed arbitrary standards. There's only a very small circle who gets the privilege of seeing how his brain works.

Despite his ever-present disdain for you, it seems like you're one of the lucky few. He'll never acknowledge this. Never admit that he favours your opinions, because he genuinely doesn't think he does.

You're frank with him. Will tell him how it is. Don't sugarcoat it. Aren't seeking his approval, so don't care to lick his ass just to keep him happy—not that he ever wants you to lick his ass. Could think of nothing worse. Not because he isn't into it, but because the thought of being with you repulses him in a way he can't quite describe. Even thinking about it makes him shudder.

But maybe that's the issue. Maybe the shudder is indicative of something else entirely.

"Yoongi?" You ask, drawing him from his thoughts. The song has finished, but he doesn't even really recall listening to it at all.

"Hm?" He hums. "Sorry, what were you saying?"

"The lyrics," you say. "What's the song about? 'Cause at the moment, musically, it sounds like a heartbreak song and love song all at the same time, and I think that's what's confusing about it. It can't decide what it wants to be."

Yoongi frowns.

"It's not really either," he supposes.

In the dim lighting of his studio, Yoongi is at his very best. Focused, he's shrewd in his astute calculations. Can put together different sounds and construct melodies you wouldn't even be able to dream of. For all of his issues, there is one undeniable truth: the man is a musical genius.

It's why this is all so perplexing to him. He hates not knowing how to make things right. This is his job. It's what he excels at—and yet he's failing.

"Well, what's it about?" You softly ask, turning to look at him. "Do you have the lyrics?"

Guard clearly up, the way Yoongi looks at you is puzzling. Whatever he's written isn't something that he wants to share.

"What?" you laugh, trying to not make a big deal of things. You know how quickly he closes up, and can already sense it happening. "You told me you're seeing someone, remember? God forbid you accidentally expose the fact you're a human being with real feelings."

You half think he might smile.

He doesn't.

Instead, he reaches across his desk for a small black notebook. A little weathered, it's clearly seen a lot of thoughts in the past. The leather of the cover is tarnished, and there's a faded sticker from some instrument brand wrapping around the spine.

"Just don't ask any fuckin' questions," he grumbles.

Rolling your eyes, you gladly accept the book. Tuck your thumb between the pages where a natural divide occurs. It's testament to how long Yoongi has spent agonising over the same words.

His handwriting never changes much. Always messy. Always hard to decipher.

Or at least, it's hard for other people. You've never found it to be too taxing.

What's curious this time are the little doodles on the page. Blossoms and small fruits.

"Cherries?" You ask, chirping with a little curiosity. It's hard to work out exactly what they are, but cherries seem like the most likely thing.

Yoongi just grunts.

Getting anything from him is like getting blood from a stone.

"How the fuck do you have a functioning relationship?" You mutter, casting your eyes back down to his words. The way he refuses to converse with you is infuriating.

"I said no questions," he curtly reminds you.

The way you roll your eyes this time is far less kind. Tossing the book back down on the desk, you reach for your shoes and get to your feet without a word.

"Where are you going?"

"Home," you tell him, as your hand reaches for the door handle. "You asked me for help, Yoongi—but I can't do jack shit if you won't let me."

"Yeah, well, I didn't ask for critique on my relationship, did I?" He snaps back. Feels his skin get all hot. Clammy. Relationship. That's not how he'd define what he's got going on. He doesn't know why he did call it that. Doesn't know why he didn't just ignore you, when you're clearly trying to wind him up.

"You're impossible," you tell him, patience thin. The alcohol made it easier to be friendly with him, but it also makes it easier to fight, too.

"And you're unbearable!"

"Me?!" You say with such offense it almost surprises Yoongi. Turning around to fully face him, you let go of the the door handle. Let it whisper shut, the lock softly clicking into place. You're willingly trapped in the confines of his studio. Could just leave. Instead, you choose to fight. "Oh, you have some fucking nerve—"

"I thought you were going?" He cuts you off, responding to your change in position by getting to his feet too. He's not one for confrontation, but there's something about you that just gets under his skin. Makes him wanna fight right back. "So why don't you just fuckin' go?"

"I am," you assure him. You should have known that this would end in disaster. "But maybe if you channelled some of this pent-up frustration into your music, maybe you'd actually get somewhere."

"I don't need you telling me how to do my job," he sneers. "If you hadn't noticed, I'm doing perfectly fine without your unsolicited advice."

Unbelievable. Was he not the one who asked for your help? Repeatedly?

"Holy shit," you scornfully laugh. "Listen to yourself, you deluded prick! You asked—"

"Yeah, well if you didn't insist on sticking your big fuckin' Pinnochio nose into everything—"

"My big nose?! Oh, you are such an asshole."

"You're no fuckin' daisy, either," he snaps. Doesn't even really know why he's being so rude. Just knows he doesn't want to back down. Doesn't wanna let you win. "Just do us all a favour and quit before the tour. No one wants you there."

It's never been a secret that Yoongi harbours contempt for the way in which you got your jobs, but you know damn well that you've proven your worth. If it was anyone else saying these words, you'd probably be offended.

Instead, you just shake your head. Laugh. Walk a little closer just to piss him off. Encroach upon his personal space.

"Tell me, Yoongi," you say quietly, picking off a little dust from his shirt just to see how he reacts. To your surprise, he lets you. Just looks down at you. Watches to see what you'll do next. Eyes flicking up to his, the air between you is frightfully thin. "If I quit, how would you explain it to Jin? Hmm? Would you tell him the way you speak to me?"

"I've got nothing to hide," Yoongi replies just as quietly. There's an intimacy to be found somewhere hidden between your mutual disdain and heated anger. The kind of coldness that can only come from someone you once knew to be warm. "He knows you're a piece of work."

This does make you laugh. "Nothing to hide, huh?"

"Nothing," he says. His jaw is tense, and his eyes are even more so. "Nothing happened that night."

"Yoongi, I didn't even mention that night," you remind him with a smirk, pleased at your ability to get under his skin.

That night has lingered with you both: the scent of damp cedar wood and the sensation of sweltering heat against your clammy skin. It's not the kind of thing you forget, even if you never speak of it. Not with Jimin, not with Jungkook, and especially not with Yoongi.

"Just get out of my studio," he growls, eyes centred on yours. He's unwavering in the way that he stares you out; unashamed and uncompromising.

"Gladly," you say as you pull away from him.

You're not gonna beg him to be cordial with you. This atmosphere is a product of his own creation, and as miserable as it is, he's gonna have to be the one to fix it. Both as stubborn as one another, you know damn well it's gonna stay like for a while.

The door slams shut. No amount of soundproofing can obscure the way Yoongi curses into the void left by you.

But right on time, as you reach the door that leads out onto the street, your phone vibrates in your pocket. It's a little longer than the vibration of your other apps, so you know exactly what it is. Who it is. Solace is found in the form of notifications from him. Satisfaction, too.

D4m0cl3s: fuck it i need you, now, clem

D4m0cl3s added new media to the chat!

end of part two

#yoongi fanfic #yoongi smut #yoongi angst #rockstar!yoongi #yoongi fluff #bangtan ff #bts x reader #yoongi masterlist #yoongi x reader #yoongi ff #rockstar!bts #dappleddaisies #byholly #dating app au #rockstar au #myg x reader #bts fanfic #bts smut

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julieeeeette · 1 year ago

Text

the one where you and yoongi take your son to the beach

Pairing: Yoongi x reader

Word Count: 330

Rating: PG-13

You and Yoongi had taken your son to the beach and played with him all day making sandcastles, running away from the waves as they crashed onto the shore and watched little crabs as they shuffled around. Then, when the fluffy clouds became pastel pinks and purples, the three of you laid in the warm sand and pointed out different shapes until the sky eventually lit on fire.

“Come on, buddy. It’s getting late.” Yoongi smiled as he looked over at his son, who could barely keep his eyes open. Your son held his arms up and allowed him to pick him up and carry him to the car.

It didn’t take long for him to fall asleep.

Yoongi glanced at him with a soft laugh in the rear view mirror before refocusing on the road and taking your hand.

When you got home, you carried your child inside with Yoongi following you down the hallway to the bedroom full of astronaut figurines, spaceships, and the planets. He leaned against the doorframe and crossed his arms with a soft smile as you laid him down and covered him up, pressing a kiss to his brow before turning on a lamp in the shape of a cartoonish astronaut peering into a softly illuminated moon.

Yoongi admired it for a moment before you stepped up beside him and wrapped your arms around his waist and laid your head on his shoulder.

“Today was perfect.” He whispered as though your son would wake up even as Holly jumped up into bed beside him and dropped down beside him with a sigh.

“It really was.” You watched your only child sleep for a moment, grateful for how easy it had been to get him down and the calm of your home that settled around you like a warm blanket on a cold night. “Let’s go to bed.”

Yoongi yawned as if on cue and nodded before steering you towards your shared room. “Yes, let’s.”

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taekookielove0130 · 6 months ago

Text

Slowly, Unintentionally.

Part 3 Pairing: Idol!Min Yoongi x Nerd!Reader

Summary:

Y/N and Yoongi are two individuals in completely different worlds who collide due to an arranged marriage. What happens when there’s somebody else living with them too?

⚠️ Warnings: Smut, fluff, angst, heartbreak, and crying. Tissues are highly recommended!

Part 1 :

Part 2:

One week later...

Y/N's POV

It’s been a week since a beautiful angel stepped into our lives and we’ve already grown so close. I can say I truly love Ae-cha with all my heart. We spend so much time together. She helps me out in the kitchen (even though it just means she’s going to rummage through the cupboards and find a good snack) and even slips into my bed late at night. She’s sneaky and cute and just downright lovely to me. Despite the way Yoongi despises me with every fibre of his being, I can say that he’s at least able to tolerate my presence now. Barely, but still.

I’m broken out of my thoughts as I feel a pair of small hands sneak around my waist.

“Oh, you’re back!” I say and turn to look at Ae-cha who beams at me, nodding eagerly. Today, I took a leave from my office just to make sure I was there for Ae-cha as she came back from her first guitar lesson. I hoped I'd be at least a little helpful for her and was definitely not disappointed as my little girl came back home and immediately sought me out. She starts talking animatedly about how wonderful her teacher had been and how patient he was to make sure she got all the basics right before beginning their lesson.

Knowing that she probably already knew all those basics but still liked appreciating the teacher for her thoughtfulness, I smile at her and then realize there’s another person in the kitchen at the sound of someone clearing their throat. I realize it’s Yoongi by the sound and turn around returning to my work as I know he wants to talk to Ae-cha. Hence, you can see I’m surprised when he softly calls out,

“Y/N.”

Hiding the fact that my heart just skipped a goddamn beat hearing him speak my name in such a soft tone, I slowly turn to face him. He’s standing there. Leaning against the top of the kitchen counter, looking impeccably handsome as ever.

“Can we talk?”

The softly posed question both confuses and scares me to an equal level though I just gulp, trying to wet my suddenly dry throat and manage to muster a believable smile.

“Yeah, sure.” I say and find myself even more confused as he instructs Ae-cha to go to her room and complete her homework. The little girl turns to send a secretive smile at me and runs outside, giggling after I dazedly smile back at her.

Yoongi stays there for a while, watching her go before he directs his attention at me. Being the centre of attention has always made me nervous and anxious but I don’t understand why being the centre of Yoongi’s attention has me feeling happy and powerful. It feels as if l my life I was used to being invisible, made peace with the fact but If Yoongi looks at me, I never want him to look away. He walks towards me and stops at an arm’s distance.

“I spoke to Ae-cha’s guardian yesterday and he told me that adoption would be a good option if we want to keep her with us. Otherwise, according to the law she’ll have to be sent to an orphanage. My legal team has told me that adoption can only be possible if there’s a functioning relationship between the couple. It’s said that the officers are hard to convince unless the pair have and understanding with each other. I know that we haven’t exactly been a proper couple but do you think we can at least try to pretend?

The fact that he wanted to talk to me only because it was about Ae-cha breaks my heart again. Even worse, he’s just giving that to me as a piece of information, not even slightly caring about my opinion. I struggle to gather the broken pieces before I say,

“Yeah, I think we can.”

He doesn’t make my struggle easier when he speaks again,

“Thanks. But you know that I’m only asking you this for Ae-cha, right? It has nothing to do with us.”

I feel tears prick my eyes but I hold on, deciding not to break down in front of him. I offer my best smile to him and nod.

He replies with an,

“Oh good. See you later then.” and walks out.

I run to my room and lock the door before crying my hearts out. Within a few minutes, I hear a soft knock on my door. Groaning, I'm about to tell whoever it is to go away when

"Y/n, Are you in there?" Ae-cha's voice sounds from the other side of the door. Panicking slightly, I sniff a few times, hurriedly running to the restroom and splashing my face with water.

"Yeah, what's up?" I ask, smiling brightly at her after opening the door to my room.

The little girl eyes me up and down suspiciously as if she isn't convinced everything's fine.

"hm, I was going to watch a movie. Wanna join?"

I frown, trying to find out why exactly she's behaving as if she knows everything before shrugging as to say,

"Sure, why not."

Ae-cha settles down on the couch, flipping through the programs to find a good movie while I make some popcorn for us.

After we settle comfortably on the couch and the movie is playing, I space out. Not that I mean to, but the recent events all awaken my overthinking abilities. I had a pretty good day from the morning, what with Ae-cha's guitar lessons and all but once again, Yoongi had to ruin it. But even with how badly he treats me, I cannot bring myself to hate this man. I'm more annoyed than angry actually. If he wanted to go about the adoption process, I'm pretty sure he'll be able to surpass all the legal procedures with his societal standing and popularity. But he was deciding to do it the legal way. And I respect that, truly. But the least he could do for me, was to treat me like an actual human being and consider my feelings about the whole things. At least for the sake of pretending, we had to get to know each other. He just...

As the million wild thoughts race through my mind, I feel a soft warm body slowly move towards me on the couch. Turning, I see e-cha snuggling under my arm, cuddling closer and laying her head on my shoulder. at least, she tries to but with her height, she's only successful at lading on my chest. Laughing softly, I pull her closer, creating a comfortable space for her to lie down on the couch.

Smiling up at me, she leans closer and for a second I'm almost afraid. But then, her soft lips gently graze my cheek and I sit, frozen at what just happened. Then, she gets back to her previous position. Pleasantly surprised, I'm only able to wrap her up in my arms and almost miss it when she whispers softly,

"I'm there for you."

The burn of my eyes and the sudden tightness in my throat are all to familiar but i stubbornly blink them back, only nodding and pressing a kiss to her temple. She looks up at me and we smile at each other.

This wonderful creature, so small. But filled with so much knowledge. I sit there in awe trying to comprehend how she can be so understanding in spite of not understanding!?!?

I finally decide, I can tackle whatever Yoongi throws t me, no matter how hard as long as I have my dear Ae-cha by my side. I love her. And I love him. In different ways. Yet at the same time, soo similar.

_______________________________________________________

That was quite a long break. I apologize for it. But as you can see, I'm back. I'm working on this fic and a small one-shot based on Jimin. SO, stay tuned. Do tell me what you think.

Does Ae-cha KNOW what happened between them? Is Yoongi doing this the legal way just for formality's sake or for something else? Ae-cha is actually and angel, isn't she?

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svtrightherekids · 1 year ago

Note

Can you recommend some really BTS angsty fics that have happy endings (yknow something that'll torture my heart but I'll still be happy)

YES. we love torturing our hearts <3

backburner by @yoonpobs

sister's best friend min yoongi! x reader

sometimes you felt like you were the back-burner of a two-decade-long friendship. how could you ever compete?

2. maybe I do by @chateautae

ceo taehyung! x rich reader!

maybe you love each other, maybe you don’t. when a deal between your fathers leaves you forcefully wedding kim taehyung, arguably seoul’s most powerful CEO, you’re prepared for a loveless marriage of eternal regret and unhappiness. but maybe, it doesn’t turn out that way after all.

3. practice by @chryblossomjjk

art major jungkook! x smart reader!

what starts as a harmless little "meet up" ends up being way more complicated.

4. Rough edges by @kjhmyg

badboy jk! x reader!

This series is not ended yet, but I couldn't possibly recommend a angsty fic rec and not include this series. fingers crossed, hopefully this has a happy ending :(

5. The return of an empress by @you-are-my-joy

Empress Reader! x Advisor!Jin, Advisor!Yoongi, General!Hoseok, Advisor!Namjoon, Assassin!Jimin, Knight!Taehyung, Knight!Jungkook

After one fateful night, you find yourself transmigrated into your favorite novel as the Empress that shares the same name as you. As a bookworm, most would think you’d be happy, but how could you be happy when the Empress you’ve become is expected to be killed in three months. The only thing on your mind now is to learn how to survive.

Thanks for reading :0

#fic recommendation #fic rec #bts #bts fanfiction #jungkook ff #taehyung ff #poly bts x reader #yoongi ff #bts ff #bts fanfic #idk man

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btsuga-d · 6 months ago

Text

Can You See Me || Chapter II ʚɞ

↬ ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ

𝚂𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚗 𝚖𝚒𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚋𝚘𝚢𝚜, 𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚍𝚊𝚛𝚔 𝚜𝚎𝚌𝚛𝚎𝚝. 𝙸𝚜𝚎𝚞𝚕'𝚜 𝚕𝚒𝚏𝚎 𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚐𝚎𝚜 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚙𝚕𝚎𝚝𝚎𝚕𝚢 𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚗 𝚜𝚑𝚎 𝚕𝚘𝚜𝚎𝚜 𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚜𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚋𝚎𝚌𝚊𝚞𝚜𝚎 𝚘𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚖𝚘𝚜𝚝 𝚍𝚊𝚗𝚐𝚎𝚛𝚘𝚞𝚜 𝚊𝚖𝚘𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚖, 𝚠𝚑𝚘 𝚒𝚜 𝚊𝚕𝚜𝚘 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚖𝚘𝚜𝚝 𝚠𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚍, 𝚜𝚌𝚊𝚛𝚎𝚍 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚍𝚎𝚎𝚙𝚎𝚜𝚝 𝚜𝚌𝚊𝚛𝚜 𝚘𝚏 𝚊𝚕𝚕. 𝙴𝚊𝚌𝚑 𝚘𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚖 𝚑𝚊𝚜 𝚊 𝚍𝚊𝚛𝚔 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚝𝚞𝚖𝚞𝚕𝚝𝚞𝚘𝚞𝚜 𝚙𝚊𝚜𝚝, 𝚊 𝚝𝚛𝚊𝚞𝚖𝚊 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚙𝚛𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚖 𝚏𝚛𝚘𝚖 𝚛𝚎𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚘 𝚕𝚒𝚏𝚎. 𝚆𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝙸𝚜𝚎𝚞𝚕 𝚋𝚎 𝚊𝚋𝚕𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚜𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚖 𝚊𝚕𝚕, 𝚘𝚛 𝚠𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚕𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚋𝚎 𝚎𝚗𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑 𝚝𝚘 𝚍𝚒𝚜𝚙𝚎𝚕 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚑𝚊𝚍𝚘𝚠𝚜 𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚒𝚛 𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚝𝚜?

↬ ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ

𝙳𝚊𝚛𝚔 𝙼𝚒𝚗 𝚈𝚘𝚘𝚗𝚐𝚒 𝚡 𝙱𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚍 𝙾𝙲!𝙻𝚎𝚎 𝙸𝚜𝚎𝚞𝚕

↬ ᴛʀᴀɪʟᴇʀ

➤ 𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚔

↬ ɢᴇɴʀᴇ

𝙼𝚊𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚎, 𝙳𝚊𝚛𝚔, 𝙰𝚗𝚐𝚜𝚝, 𝙼𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚊𝚕 𝙷𝚎𝚊𝚕𝚝, 𝙿𝚜𝚢𝚌𝚑𝚘𝚕𝚘𝚐𝚒𝚌𝚊𝚕, 𝚁𝚘𝚖𝚊𝚗𝚌𝚎, 𝚂𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚊𝚕, 𝙷𝚘𝚛𝚛𝚘𝚛, 𝙸𝚗𝚝𝚛𝚘𝚜𝚙𝚎𝚌𝚝𝚒𝚟𝚎, 𝙰𝚄, 𝚝𝚊𝚔𝚎 𝚙𝚕𝚊𝚌𝚎 𝚒𝚗 𝚊 𝚑𝚘𝚜𝚙𝚒𝚝𝚊𝚕, 𝙺𝚒𝚖 𝚂𝚎𝚘𝚔𝚓𝚒𝚗!𝙳𝚘𝚌𝚝𝚘𝚛, 𝙼𝚒𝚗 𝚈𝚘𝚘𝚗𝚐𝚒!𝙿𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚎𝚗𝚝, 𝙿𝚊𝚛𝚔 𝙹𝚒𝚖𝚒𝚗!𝙿𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚎𝚗𝚝, 𝙺𝚒𝚖 𝚃𝚊𝚎𝚑𝚢𝚞𝚗𝚐!𝙿𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚎𝚗𝚝, 𝙹𝚎𝚘𝚗 𝙹𝚞𝚗𝚐𝚔𝚘𝚘𝚔!𝙿𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚎𝚗𝚝, 𝙹𝚞𝚗𝚐 𝙷𝚘𝚜𝚎𝚘𝚔!𝙿𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚎𝚗𝚝, 𝙺𝚒𝚖 𝙽𝚊𝚖𝚓𝚘𝚘𝚗!𝙿𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚎𝚗𝚝

↬ ᴡᴏʀᴅᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ

3.3𝚔

↬ ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ

𝚜𝚞𝚒𝚌𝚒𝚍𝚎 𝚊𝚝𝚝𝚎𝚖𝚙𝚝, 𝚋𝚛𝚞𝚝𝚊𝚕 𝚙𝚑𝚢𝚜𝚒𝚌𝚊𝚕 𝚟𝚒𝚘𝚕𝚎𝚗𝚌𝚎, 𝚜𝚞𝚏𝚏𝚘𝚌𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗, 𝚋𝚊𝚍 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚍𝚜, 𝚜𝚑𝚘𝚠𝚎𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚐𝚊𝚜𝚘𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚎

↬ ᴀᴜᴛʜᴏʀ'ꜱ ɴᴏᴛᴇ

𝙷𝚎𝚕𝚕𝚘 🌸 𝙷𝚎𝚛𝚎'𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚎𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚍 𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚘𝚏 𝙲𝚈𝚂𝙼. 𝚆𝚎'𝚛𝚎 𝚍𝚎𝚕𝚟𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚘 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚝 𝚘𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚝𝚘𝚛𝚢, 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚈𝚘𝚘𝚗𝚐𝚒'𝚜 𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚛𝚊𝚌𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚏𝚒𝚗𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚢 𝚖𝚊𝚔𝚎𝚜 𝚊𝚗 𝚊𝚙𝚙𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚊𝚗𝚌𝚎. 𝙿𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚎 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚖𝚞𝚜𝚒𝚌 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚠𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚏𝚒𝚗𝚍 𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚝𝚎𝚛. 𝙲𝚑𝚊𝚛𝚊𝚌𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝 𝚠𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚋𝚎 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚜𝚘𝚘𝚗, 𝚜𝚘 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚌𝚊𝚗 𝚍𝚎𝚕𝚟𝚎 𝚍𝚎𝚎𝚙𝚎𝚛 𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚘 𝚎𝚊𝚌𝚑 𝚘𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚒𝚛 𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚜𝚘𝚗𝚊𝚕𝚒𝚝𝚒𝚎𝚜. 𝙸'𝚖 𝚊𝚕𝚜𝚘 𝚜𝚑𝚊𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚔 𝚝𝚘 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚝𝚛𝚊𝚒𝚕𝚎𝚛 𝙸 𝚖𝚊𝚍𝚎. 𝚂𝚎𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚜𝚘𝚘𝚗.

↬ ᴄʜᴀʀᴀᴄᴛᴇʀ ʟɪꜱᴛ - 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘴𝘰𝘰𝘯

ᴍɪɴ ʏᴏᴏɴɢɪ ʟᴇᴇ ɪꜱᴇᴜʟ ᴋɪᴍ ꜱᴇᴏᴋᴊɪɴ ᴋɪᴍ ɴᴀᴍᴊᴏᴏɴ ᴊᴜɴɢ ʜᴏꜱᴇᴏᴋ ᴘᴀʀᴋ ᴊɪᴍɪɴ ᴋɪᴍ ᴛᴀᴇʜʏᴜɴɢ ᴊᴇᴏɴ ᴊᴜɴɢᴋᴏᴏᴋ

↬ ɴᴀᴠɪɢᴀᴛɪᴏɴ

ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ɪ - ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ʟɪꜱᴛ - ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ɪɪɪ

June 9, 2018

I pressed the elevator button with all the force contained in my index finger. I pressed it several times, just to make sure it got the message. The red number at the top marked that it was coming from the fourth floor. I tapped one foot noisily against the ground, trying to relax the nerves that were gripping my stomach. That wait was nerve-wracking.

My heart was pounding. What was I going to do if it was really him? What would I have done if I lifted that sheet and saw – no. I couldn’t even think about it. I pressed my head against the wall, my finger still pressed on the elevator button.

A ding and the doors swung open. I looked up and lost myself in two brown puddles, as deep as the ocean itself. A rather tall boy with brown hair slightly long at the back of his neck stared at me as if he wanted to pierce me through and through. Some wisps fell back in front of his eyes, making his appearance even more disturbing

I read pain in his eyes, a suffering that I could not have explained in words. I looked down and noticed that he had both forearms wrapped in gauze. His square face was clean, but he kept his mouth slightly slanted, his eyes fixed in mine. I found it impressive that he had not yet blinked. Like a predator stalking his prey.

Our exchange of glances lasted a few seconds, until the nurse who was accompanying him made her gaze wander from me to him.

"Do you know her?" she asked him.

The dark-haired shook his head, uttering a simple, deep "No." Then he added, still keeping his eyes on me, "And I certainly don't want to know her." His rough voice sent shivers down my spine. He passed me, brushing my shoulder with his arm. The nurse followed soon after and bowed her head slightly toward me, apologizing for her patient's brusque manner.

I didn't turn around to see where they were headed. Surely, I had more important things to think about. At that moment I wasn’t interested in the rudeness of a stupid little boy, even though he must have been about my age.

I slipped into the elevator and pressed the button with the number -1 on it. The doors closed and I saw the light fade. I wrapped my arms around my body as I felt the elevator begin to move downward. The darkness and the noise of the descent made me even more anxious. The cabin trembled slightly before stopping on the top floor and opening the doors wide.

I stood before a very long white corridor. The light was so bright that I had to close my eyes slightly to let them adjust again. I took one step, then another and another until I saw the “morgue” sign at the top of one of the doors. I reached out my hand, resting it on the handle. And I froze.

I didn’t have the courage. I was literally shivering. And not from the coldness typical of morgues.

I pulled back as if I had just burned myself, continuing to stare at the spotless wooden surface. On the other side of that door could be the answers I had been waiting for an entire year. Or at least some of them. I looked up again, but my hand had no intention of lowering that doorknob. I turned around, frustrated, and squatted on the ground holding my knees.

I was afraid of myself. Of how I would react. Finding out the truth was worse than believing the lie I had constructed for myself. The hope that my father was alive… That was the only thing that allowed me to keep fighting. That was all I had left. What was I going to do if it shattered? How could I be sure that I would not shatter as well? That was what I was afraid of. That I would never be the same again. That I would become my own shadow. That day, my life might have changed.

Maybe I would have done better to wait for someone to arrive. I wasn't sure I could stay there without a competent attendant. The girl at the front desk had told me she would send someone, but I had run off even before she could finish her sentence. Maybe, with someone by my side, I would regain my courage and be able to cross that threshold. All I had to do was wait.

But suddenly, out of nowhere, the notes of a piano resounded.

I lifted my head and turned my gaze toward the end of the hallway. A series of notes was pressed on the keys of a piano, spreading a slow, soothing melody. Between notes, there were moments of silence that accentuated the already gloomy atmosphere due to the rain and thunder. A flash of lightning lit up the sky and I stood up, walking the short distance to the brown door at the end of the hall. The melody continued to proceed in stages, almost as if it was adjusting to the advance of my steps toward the door.

I took a quick glance at the dusty sign placed on one side. Chapel. See a small church next to the morgue was nothing exceptional, but find someone inside was quite unusual. I pushed open the door to reveal two slender shoulders wiggling following the movements of his arms along the piano keys. He had very blond hair and wore a shirt that was white and neat, and above all, loose. So wide that the hem of the sleeves grazed his knuckles. A pair of beige pants wrapped his skinny legs, and on his feet he wore white tennis shoes.

I did not enter the little church, but decided to stay on the threshold. To observe it. The piano was an old brown model belonging to the French brand boisselot fils. It looked really old, but that guy had the ability to make the listener believe that the sound was coming out of a grand piano. I watched him until something changed in his playing. Now his fingers had picked up speed and moved from key to key with extreme elegance, brushing over them as if they were made of porcelain. I could not see his face, but I was convinced that his eyes were closed.

Then the melody slowed down again, until it returned to the series of notes from the beginning, always interspersed with a moment of silence, but one tone lower than the initial ones. He seemed to be reflecting. He was organizing his thoughts, asking himself questions, but unable to find an answer. The questions continued, but his frustration grew as the melody increased and grew louder.

I am angry. I am furious at the world, at those who made me suffer. I fought to the last, but my tenacity was not enough. I just want someone to listen to me, to hear my words full of anger and fear. Because I am afraid of being alone. Because I am afraid of falling into the void and never surfacing again. I am afraid of becoming someone I am not. Looking in the mirror and not recognizing my reflection. I am afraid of myself.

That was what his music was telling me. The thoughts were flowing as if he was directly opening his mouth to speak to me. It had never happened to me before, but his emotions ran over me like a flooding river. I stood in the doorway as my eyes automatically filled with tears. They began to stream down my face without my realizing it.

I could understand his pain. It was identical to mine. I could feel in him my own fears, my own worries. I could tell by the gentle touch that had been replaced with a firmer, more powerful one. Skinny shoulders wiggled under his white shirt; one foot pressed on the pedal while the other went in rhythm with the tune. His fingers began to slide from one side of the piano to the other with frightening coordination and speed, making the muscles under his semi-transparent shirt tense. His anger was rising, as well as the tone of the melody. By now he was at the mercy of his emotions.

I watched as he lowered his head slightly and saw gold earrings jingle from the purposeful movement of his arms. He almost seemed to be holding his breath, choking in his own anguish. I wanted to save him, to pull him out of that raging river and tell him everything would be all right.

I got chills when the music increased again, accompanied by the sound of rain and thunder that ripped through the sky. It was freezing in that room, but I saw drops of sweat that began to trickle down his temple, caressing the soft shape of his chin.

His anger exploded all at once and he stopped suddenly, keeping his fingers resting on the final chord. Then, as if he had left something unfinished, he resumed playing again. The bluish veins stood out on his white hands from the exertion. The rhythm had faded again and he returned to stroking the keys, but this time there was a bitter note in every note he touched. As if his inner debate had ended and failed. The result was still the same. Nothing had changed. His anger was still there, his hatred was still eating at him.

He lifted his hands from the keyboard, almost as if he wanted to leave the melody hanging. A sigh escaped his lips. He lifted one arm against the piano and rested his head on it, letting his damp blond hair brush against his wrist. He was out of breath, as if he had just run a marathon. Through his shirt, I could see his lean shoulders rising and falling.

Then, suddenly, he did a strange thing.

He stood up and picked up the can of gasoline that had always been beside the piano, but which I had not noticed since I had been too focused on him. He opened it with a single wave of his hand and began to pour the clear liquid on the piano. He filled its keys, wetting the wooden surface as well. Then, to my amazement, he began to slide it down his neck and onto his shirt, which immediately became transparent. It looked like he was showering himself with gasoline. I had never seen anything more disturbing in my entire life.

My heart lost a beat when he reached out to grab the small white lighter on the piano. He held it tightly between his fingers and brushed the movable top of it with his thumb. I still couldn’t see his face because his back was to me, but I was sure his expression said nothing good.

“Yah!” I squealed as I entered the room.

The boy turned sharply when he heard my shout, still holding the lighter up. I instinctively stepped back when I met his eyes. The frightened ones of the guy I had seen on the second floor? Or the deep, terrifying ones of the guy in the elevator? They were nothing compared to those who were looking at me at that moment.

Another flash of lightning lit up the sky and I could distinctly see those dark slits, outlined in black. Those thin yet so expressive eyes made me doubt that they were real. There could be no such intense, deep, menacing gaze. It was humanly impossible. He stood motionless watching me as he scanned my face, the lighter still in his hands.

I tried to reason with him; it was the only approach I could attempt.

“Please, put it down,” I pleaded him, pointing to the lighter in his hand. The guy didn’t flinch. He kept looking at my face as if his life depended on it. Only then did I realize that my cheeks were still wet from the tears from earlier. “Talk to me, will you? I don’t know you, but your playing really moved me. I-I am willing to listen to you, if you want.”

On his face appeared one of the most chilling grins I had ever seen. He finally lowered the hand that held the lighter, but he began to move slowly toward me. Reflexively, I stepped back. His steps were slow, heavy. He was not very tall, but because of that, beyond all logic, his figure seemed even more menacing. I stepped back until I realized that he had begun to increase his pace to catch up with me. Frightened by the hostile aura he emanated, I turned my back on him and began to run toward the open door.

I didn’t have time to cross the threshold that I saw a pale, thin arm go over my shoulder and close the door in my face. I dared not turn around, aware that I was trapped between his body and the door he was holding locked with the palm of his hand. I felt his warm breath on my neck and a shiver ran down my spine, right where his chest and my back had made contact.

“Turn around.” The tone was so low that I could barely make out what he had said. His voice was even lower and hoarser than the boy in the elevator. A chill caught me when in turning around I brushed against the arm he was holding up. “Look at me,” he ordered again since I was keeping my eyes down. In doing so, I couldn’t help but notice his completely soaked white shirt. The intense smell of gasoline bothered my nose and made my eyes tingle, but I continued my ascent to his face, meeting first his snow-white neck, then his thin lips and finally his dark, deadly eyes. I immediately lowered mine, unable to sustain his gaze. I swallowed.

He moved even closer to my face, forcing me to press my back against the door. To my surprise, he grabbed my chin and forced me to look him straight in the eyes. I aimed my gaze into his brown irises and saw something snap in them. His eyebrows furrowed even more and he gritted his teeth until he let go of my chin with a snap. The hand that had just released me from his grip closed around my neck again, leaving me no chance to breathe.

I opened my eyes wide, terrified. I clawed at his hand with my fingernails, but my efforts proved utterly futile. His grip grew stronger with each passing second, and his eyes thinned until they almost disappeared. I gasped for air as his face moved closer and closer to mine. Our noses brushed against each other, and I could tell from his satisfied grin how much pleasure he was getting from this situation.

I realized that I had stumbled upon a bloody psychopath.

Almost at the limit of my oxygen supply, I made one last desperate attempt. I pulled my leg back and kicked it forward with all the force I had in my body. I hit him right in that sensitive spot, forcing him to let go and kneel down. I immediately turned to open the door, but my luck could not last that long.

I felt myself being grabbed by my hair, and a second later I felt a stabbing pain in my head. He had slammed me against the piano. My counteroffensive had only ended up infuriating him more. I could tell just by looking at his face. He was livid with rage. Still dazed from the blow from earlier, I saw the room whirling. Because of this I didn't understand what he was doing until I felt him towering over me. Sitting astride my legs, he grabbed me by the collar of my blouse and yanked me forward, forcing me to arch my back.

I was not even in time to realize the situation that I felt something wet hit my face, immediately feeling a deep burning sensation in both eyes. The pain was so bad that I could not help but cry out. A pungent smell of gasoline was occluding my nostrils, and I felt a bittersweet taste in my mouth. My head felt completely wet and I immediately felt nauseous. I tried to open my eyes, but when I did, my vision became completely blurred and I could only catch a glimpse of my attacker’s brown irises injected with blood and evil.

I squinted my eyelids, continuing to scream in pain. My eyes burned, I was short of oxygen and my head ached so badly. I felt the guy’s white hands tighten around my throat again, but this time I had no intention of fighting back. I was exhausted, both mentally and physically. If he wanted to kill me that badly, I was going to let him do it.

Then, I heard the door open wide.

“Holy shit… Yoongi!” I shouted, throwing myself at the boy’s figure. I grabbed him by the shoulders and tried to grab the lighter he was holding. Once again, he had tried to set himself on fire. But this time he was not alone. She was there. The girl I had seen in front of the reception desk who had brought back so many memories. “Yoongi… Yoongi, damn it, let her go!” I shouted again, pinning his arms down and yanking him to pull his hand away from the girl’s throat. Jungsun immediately came to my aid, grabbing him by the neck and pulling him backward.

Yoongi may have appeared weak, but his willpower should not be underestimated.

I sensed an intense smell of gasoline, and once I retrieved the lighter, I threw it into the hallway for safety. Then I went back to dealing with my companion, who seemed to have completely lost control of his emotions.

“We need to sedate him, I’ll go get a syringe,” Jungsun suggested, but we didn’t have enough time. I had to think of something else.

“Yoongi… Yoongi, look at me. Look at me!” I let him go and stood in front of him, covering his view. But his attention was still on the girl lying behind me. He looked possessed; I had never seen him in that state. “SUGA!”

Finally, Yoongi froze, as if he had just awakened from a trance-like state. He fixed his eyes in mine and looked at me bewildered. I sighed heavily. It was amazing that he responded so easily to that name and not to his own. He was completely misguided. I walked over to him and hugged him tightly to stop his shoulders from shaking. He covered his face with his hands, massaging his eyelids heavily. Then he ran his trembling fingers through his damp, sticky hair.

Once I was sure he had finally calmed down, I turned to the girl behind me. She had a wound on the back of her head and was bleeding. I checked her pulse and opened her eyes to take a look at her pupils with a small flashlight given to me by Jungsun. I froze suddenly, checking a second time as a precaution. Damn.

I turned my head to meet Jungsun’s questioning eyes. I cast a glance at Yoongi who was still sitting on the ground with his hands clawed into his blond hair. He was breathing heavily but seemed stable. I went back to look at the girl who had started moving again. I helped her sit up and brought my face closer to hers, noticing that she was keeping her eyes closed.

“Miss,” I said in a whisper. “Open your eyes. Can you see me?”

The brunette remained motionless for a few moments, then, with a tremendous effort, lifted her eyelids. She blinked them once or twice, until she lifted her chin slightly in my direction. She looked at me, but without really paying me any attention. She parted her lips.

“I can’t.”

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pjmbrat · 2 years ago

Text

tease m.yg

warnings: dom!yoongi, sub!reader, degradation, lil bit of praise, sir kink, spanking, reader tries to be a brat but fails <\3

You filled up the bathtub with steaming hot water, just how you liked it. Sliding into the water, your strained muscles getting that much needed therapy you’d been craving all day. You lathered your body in your favorite coconut flavored body wash, it was evident that Yoongi loved it as well, always putting his nose in the crook of your neck and inhaling deeply when he hugged you. But tonight, you didn’t want Yoongi to be sweet like how he usually is, no, you wanted him to be mean.

Teasing Yoongi had to be one of your favorite things by far. Pushing him to his limits so he would fuck you stupid was always your goal, so tonight you had the perfect idea for what you wanted to do. You grabbed your phone off of the side of the bath, opening you and Yoongi’s messages, clicking on the little camera button. Although you were in the bath, you were such a filthy sight. Your face was slightly pink from the heat of the bath, the soapy bubbles all over your boobs, you knew Yoongi would go crazy for this.

You snapped a photo of yourself, squeezing your boobs together as you looked up at the camera. Your fingers trembling over the send button, Where’d all that confidence go? You sucked it up and sent it anyway, sending another text reading, “Wish you were here.” The anticipation had you wet already. You put your phone back where it was, continuing to enjoy your bath. After you had washed your hair, and the rest of your body, you made your way out of the bathtub to dry off. You almost forgot that you even texted Yoongi, but as soon as you stepped into your room-

There he was. Sitting on the bed, still dressed in his work attire, and God, you just wanted him to fuck you then and there. “What were you trying to do, huh?” He mumbled. “You didn’t like it?” You pouted, making your way over to him, dressed in a simple white, silky robe. “Over my knee.” He demanded, arousal pooling in your core. “What are you talking abou-” You couldn’t even finish your sentence before he swiftly picked you up and placed you over his knee himself. His hands made their way to the curve of your ass, groping it. “Bet this is what you wanted, isn’t it Y/N?” He growled, landing a hard smack to your ass, undoubtedly leaving a red hand print. You whimpered, “Yoongi, please.” You begged.

“Please, what? Are you that greedy for my cock that you can’t even address me properly?” Your disobedience earning you another smack to the ass. You could barely think straight at this point, just wanting him to be inside of you. “Please sir, wanna feel you..” You cried. You squeezed your thighs together, trying to relieve the ache just a little bit. Yoongi wasn’t having it, though, quickly picking you up once again and making you sit on his lap, facing him. You could feel his bulge between your legs, “You’re such a fuckin’ tease.” He groaned, smashing his lips against yours. He wrapped his hand around your throat, causing you to whine into his mouth. He slipped his tongue into your mouth, fighting with your own, pulling away only to bite on your bottom lip. “Dirty girl. Lay down for me.” You scrambled over to the bed, laying down on your back. “Need you so bad..” You whined, untying the belt of your robe, your naked body on display for him now. Yoongi licked his lips, his eyes trailing down your naked body. He quickly took his pants off, along with his boxers.

Yoongi rubbed the tip of his cock, spreading the precum around his shaft. He let out a groan as he pumped his cock above you. “Sir please, wan’ you inside.” You cried out. He took his time painfully teasing you, rubbing the tip against your aching clit. Yoongi’s moans were like music to your ears, and you could listen to them forever. “Gonna be a good fuckin’ girl for me?” He growled, spreading your dripping arousal all over your cunt. “Yes, yes please sir, please fuck me, I’ll be such a good girl for you sir!!” Hearing that, he sunk into your tight heat, splitting you open. You arched your back and let out a cry. He was relentless, pounding you at a brutal pace. “Yes fuck, just like that, take all of me.” He gasped, rubbing circles on your clit. You wrapped your legs around his waist, your moans and cries matching his thrusts. You were never one to last long, especially with him, but you already felt yourself getting close, and you knew he could feel it too with how tight you were clenching around him. “Gonna cum already, huh? Such a pathetic slut.” His words pushed you over the edge, you screamed his name one last time before you came all over his cock, quivering under him. Everything going dark as you got lost in euphoria. Yoongi groaned, his cock twitching as he spilled his seed deep inside of you.

As soon as you came down from your high, Yoongi was back to being the sweet boy he’d always been, grabbing a towel from the bedside table to clean you up, placing a chaste kiss on your lips. “Did so well for me, angel.” He purred, covering you up with the blankets on your bed. “Mmm..” was all you could reply with as you closed your eyes, letting yourself drift to sleep in his arms.

#yoongi #yoongi smut #suga bts #bts smut #jimin smut #namjoon smut #bts ff #yoongi ff #jungkook smut #taehyung smut #bts yoongi #kpop smut #jhope smut #bts v #jin smut #fanfic #like or reblog

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icravebooks · 2 years ago

Text

Paint me yours.

Yoongi x reader

Genre: establish rlsp, smut, pure filthy smut.

Summary: you had an idea and yoongi never said no to it.

Warning: pure straight out smut, it's mature content so kids stay away, spanking, p into v penetrations, unprotected sex (i am not gonna say don't be foolish cause more than half of you don't even have a social life let alone because you are delulu), paint play, temperature play, soft dom yoongi, sub reader, yoongi loves taunting and teasing. That will be all please tell me if you find anything worth mentioning.

Masterlist

Side note: this had been in my mind for days I had to get it out so that's why I stayed up the night writing this. Enjoy

Word count: 4k

To the point you could conclude yoongi was the best boyfriend anyone could ever ask of, he was the perfect softie, and the best power he held was that he never said no to anything you ever suggested, 6 years of relationship and there was not even a single time he had said no to you. Not even when you would ask him to come over at 3 in the morning.

So it wasn't a surprise that he had said yes to your almost shy request, it had struck you out of no where, you were just watching some show it had some scenes related to painting and just somehow you mind dragged you to the deepest pools of lust, a not so innocent idea striking you so hard that you had no other option but you discuss it with your boyfriend, you didn't tell him the details though, you just told him you had something in mind that you wanted to try with him and like yoongi was he never said no.

So that's how you both ended up in the living room of your apartment, the sofas and cushioned all pushed back to create abundance space for both you and yoongi to try the idea you had been thinking about, a large canvas laying in front of you both, the cans of pain kept on the side of it and a few brushes stocked in a pen stand beside your leg.

"So.." yoongi finally breaks the silence his hand placed on his hips while his body is half turned your way, one of his perfectly shaped eyebrows raised in a silent question, you couldn't exactly hide how nervous you were feeling about this, the death grip you had on your shirt was enough to give it out, your were biting the inside of your cheeks not entirely sure about how you should let yoongi know what you had planned, it felt embarassing to say it out loud.

It wasn't that you guys hadn't done shit, you guys were actually really far from that if anything the amount of corrupt acts you had done together was let's just say a secret hidden to maintain world peace. But this was the first time you had something you thought of, something totally out of the box, something that came from your imagination.

It wasn't that you were scared that yoongi would judge you, he never did that infact if anything he always helped you relax and not overthinking things, he always was there when the shouts inside your head got too loud, he always knew when you were about to lose it and that was why he turned towards you totally, his warm rough hands coming up to cup your cheeks and his warm lips coming to collide with the bridge of your nose, stealing a sigh from you.

"It's okay love, there's nothing wrong in wanting to try something if anything it makes us knowledgeable." Yoongi always knew what you thought even without you speaking it and it was something that has always come as a warm blanket over you anytime things got hard, just like now and his words actually relieve you making your stiffness dissolve and your expression softens as you look into his eyes.

"That's like my brave girl." The gummy smile that he flashes your way has the remaining tension leaving your body, a smile cracking on your face at his comment as he places his forehead against yours, "now stop torturing my poor soul and tell me what you have planned for us?" Yoongi's direct questions makes your throat dry but you can't hide away, you lick your dry lips locking eyes with him.

"Umm.. I thought.. maybe we could..try you know.. some paint and..that canvas..I mean you get it right, i can't put it into exact words but the rough up conclusion is that I want you to fuck me on that canvas." Your innocent stupor breaks away by the end of your monologue, it was hard to be shy about something when you always are the outspoken one, it's hard to not have words when you always have them.

Your words make your boyfriend laugh, a almost surprised look visible in his eyes while he squeezes your cheeks between his hands, "aww my baby finally turning naughty." Yoongi tease his voice dropping down a few octaves and turning husky making your knees quiver, you can feel the way your starts feel turned on by that single comment of his.

You look away from him not able to keep your eyes on him but that yoongi doesn't allows as he grips your chin gently between his finger and turns your eyes back towards him, "didn't we went over the rules love?, You need to keep yours Eyes on me my good girl." You knew how much of a switch yoongi was, he was the perfect boyfriend in public and in private when it was steamy hot moments he was a dominating alpha male who knew how to keep you withering and under his control but even in that he never did anything that would hurt you.

However that didn't mean you didn't get punished by him specifically on certain occasion and one thing to remember about yoongi was that, yoongi held his rules very important and the thought of making him angry made you wetter by seconds, as fun as it sounded you had other plans for today so you would rather let that one sit back for another time, so you kept your gaze pinned at him, "let's make this as detailed as we can play?" Yoongi's instruction was clear and simple and you knew that it was important for him to know what exactly you wanted so that the whole thing would turn out well.

Your nodding earned you a quick peck on the lips from yoongi one of his hand leaving your face and wandering down behind your back to squeeze your ass and pull you closer to him, your own hands entangled in the mess of his long black hairs to keep you anchored, "you want to be fucked laying down on that canvas ?" Yoongi questions humming against your lips, his hand that was still on your cheek patting it in a comforting manner, your heart felt warm at the action knowing exactly well that it was yoongi's way of keeping your anxiety from taking a toll on you.

"Yes." You whisper comes out breathy, your eyes almost closing when yoongi starts kissing his way from your jaw to your neck, lazy open mouth lustful kisses that have you moaning out his name already while you are sure you have drenched your panties already. "What else do you want me to do?" Yoongi questions all the while his hand that had been on your ass moved towards the front and in between your thighs pushing them apart slightly, you shudder at the feeling of his wet tongue licking away on your skin like fire.

"Paint.. I want you and I to leave colour imprinting of our love making on that canvas." You breathly confess your mind already going to hijack with the feeling of his lips against you and his hands that are playing with your body, a chuckle vibrates yoongi's body along side yours sending another wave of arousal gushing out of your pussy. "My my when did I turned my sweet little princess into a dirty girl?" You were sure as hell that yoongi loved teasing you, no matter how many times you guys had done how many dirty things, he would never give up on the idea that you were a classical good girl who he corrupted, in your opinion yoongi loved the fact that he had the power over you to turn you into lust filled slut and it didn't bother you even in the slightest not when it was yoongi or his skillful fingers which were currently tracing the outline of your panties.

"Anything else you would like me to do to you princess ?" You couldn't deny just how sexy yoongi's grunting voice sounded near your ear as he worked his way up the side of your neck to your ear, your hands tugging at his hair strands at the way his finger circled around your clothed clit, you almost cried at the teasing you were subjected to under yoongi's hand but you were never behind on returning the favour as your own hand moved down to cup his clothes already hard bulge through his sweatpants.

When yoongi groaned on you palming him a satisfied smirk ignited on your lips while you watched the way his hooded lust blown eyes gave you a warning look, "that will be all darling." You kept your voice seductive, dragging the nickname further to tease the man who just smiled lazily at your cheeky behaviour before his hands were shredding you off your clothes and you were returning the favour, not even ten seconds later both you were reduced to your underwear and yoongi to his sweatpants.

Yoongi smiled at you deviously before attacking your lips, his hands roaming all over your body coming up to squeeze your breast before they started to massage them and a loud moan elicited from you in response. Your own hands couldn't from pulling him in even more, not letting him go until you both were running short on air, you both pulled away totally breathless eyes scanning each other's body with a hunger visible in both your eyes.

Yoongi took a step back from you and opened up one of the cans that laid on the floor, "get down here princess." The commanding voice that yoongi used were enough to turn your legs into jelly and he didn't really had to tell you twice before you found yourself sitting halfway on top of the canvas, yoongi took his place in between your parted legs, you watched him with anticipating breathe as his eyes made contact with yours, a grin spreading on his lips.

"Open up for me princess." Yoongi requested tapping the inside of your thighs and you stretched them far apart allowing yoongi the perfect view of your drenched panty, a groan left the man at the sight of your already gone state, your smiled clearly feeling proud that you were the reason yoongi looked so animalistic, like he could devour you right then and there, "already so wet for me love." Yoongi commented taking a step closer to you and tracing a finger from your knees to your inner thighs before they dived inside your panty to press against your clit which made you throw your head back while you supported yourself on the palm of your hands leaning back and pushing forward on his finger, "always wet for you baby." Your breathless confession made the man swell up with pride, his eyes shining as he eye fucked you, taking in the sinister state you were in, mentally clicking up an image of yours in his mind to keep.

He pulled away his finger from your core making a whimper escape your mouth but that only made the male chuckle as he started to pull down your panty, a cold wet sensation igniting where yoongi touched which made you look back at him out of curiousity, your breathe getting stolen when you see the sight that greets you.

A trail of yellow paint follows the finger that are pulling your panties down, the sight just makes you more wet and your throw back your head again when yoongi discards your panty and places a kiss to the top of your thigh, "absolutely beautiful." Yoongi whispers warm against your skin as he places open mouth kisses to your thigh all the way down to your knees before his one hand comes to your hips moving back to your ass, you can feel the coolness of the paint wherever yoongi touches you and you almost lose all your senses when his hand kneads on your ass cheeks spreading the paint further on it.

"Eyes on me love." Yoongi punctuates his words with a light smack to yours other ass cheek, his figure coming atop you, his face hovering inches above yours while his lower half press against yours, you moan when yoongi's clothed length press against your naked heat, "who said you were allowed to keep that on?" You questioned looking into yoongi's eyes, knowing that he understood what you were talking about, yoongi smirks down on you as your hands lock behind his neck, he supports himself on one of his forearm while the other dips into the can of paint beside you before it disappears down.

You open your mouth to say something against stopping immediately when you feel yoongi run down his painted hand down your torso to your abdomen and then down to your core, he smears the paint on either of your inner thighs before his fingers progress in on your pussy, his two fingers rubbing on the lips of your pussy before he parts them and enters his middle finger knuckle deep into your core, you scream out curses throwing your head back at the invasion.

"Ah ah love didn't i say eyes on me." Yoongi's fingers retreat along his words making you whimper in refusal, your eyes glaring at the man on top of you before you decide that he deserves a pay back so you flip him over, now you are the one on top of him. You straddle his lap purposely grinding yourself against his length to get those beautiful groans of his. This time it's yoongi whose head falls back and his eyes shut, giving you the perfect opportunity to Tut back at him.

"Now baby, that isn't really exemplary for someone who was taunting me about closing my eyes." You sass back continuing to ride him, yoongi totally ignores your sass, his hands grip onto your waist so tight tha you are sure there are gonna be bruises but you don't mind some bruises.

Not when yoongi looks so lost and divine with his lips parted his eyes shut while he is fumbling out incoherent words, you turn yours body half sideways grabbing onto a can of colour and opening it before you dip your hand in it and pull out to spread the red paint over yoongi's chest, making sure to give him a slow shoulder massage when you are at it anyway. You lean down enough so that your chest is brushing his with each breath that he takes, knowing very well that the wet paint is getting on your body too.

Your bump yours nose with his as you grind against him, "how does it feels baby?" You straight out provoke him using a slutry tone and continue to grind against him as you continued your tortur-- massage on his chest trailing the extra paint down to his v line, you can hear yoongi grunt and groan at your action but he doesn't complains, so you continue until you reach the offending piece of clothing and when you do, you placed a kiss directly over that visible tent in his pants, making sure to suck on that very spot to make yoongi even more frustrated, finally you get the piece of clothing off him by dragging his sweatpants of his hips, making extra sure that you did it slowly as slowly as you could with the man grumbling for you to be a little quick at your work but you took your sweet time and once he was free from his confinements.

You dipped both your hands in two different colours winking up at him wickedly as you say in between his stretched thighs, "what are yo.." yoongi didn't complete his question before which yours hands were placed on either side of his hips before you trailed your fingers towards his cock, taking slow deliberate taps closer to his shaft before finally taking his length in your hand and smearing his mighty cock with the paint, making sure to Dip down and place a quick kiss to the oozing tip of his cock, maybe a quick suck too just so to hear that throat deep grunt of his while he cursed.

"Easy there babyboy." Your tease seem to only make the male more restless, it was actually an impressive thing that you and yoongi had rules that when the other takes charge you must restrain from stopping them not until you can't help it, so knowing that yoongi could help it still you took your time sliding your palm up and down the inside of his shaft, even going for some extra paint before going down to massage his balls, so instead of an oil massage you were giving him a paint massage how funny.

"Y/N you need to stop if you don't want to end up in a rather hard situation." You knew why yoongi was warning you and it only made you giggle the fact that he was so close to lose it when you were pumping his length with yours hands wrapped around it, making sure to give him a squeeze every now and then. Yep you were totally asking for it but never saw it coming not when yoongi's hands traveled to grab onto yours shoulder, not when he let them trail down your arm, you thought he was trying to anchor himself by doing that but boy were you wrong?

A yelp left your mouth when yoongi pulled you atop him by a harsh tug on your arm, your blood ran cold when you saw the look of pure wickedness and contempt clear in his eyes, it left you breathless, your breathe hitched in your throat when yoongi turned you both around, trapping you in between his arms.

"Lay on your stomach love." That was enough to make you feel goosebumps the chills in his voice making you gulp down harshly while your walls clenched around nothing, you didn't protest and complied with him, turning around and laying flat on your stomach while you heard him mutter a good girl just beside your ear, you knew yoongi purposely pressed his body against yours letting you feel his hard length against your ass. You knew he purposely rubbed his cock against you to make you frustrated.

"Hands above your head princess." You complied without any complain knowing exactly well there was nothing to argue with him about, you yelped when yoongi delivered a smack against your ass, "playing with fire isn't something good girls do my love." Yoongi's scolding was something he was enjoying and you knew that from his tone, you tried to hold back a retort meanwhile yoongi nudged you open for him even more.

You were about to make a comment when yoongi decided to plunge three finger inside you, making you scream out in surprise which made him laugh, you turned your head back to glare at the man who just gave you a cocky smirk, finding your surprise funny.

"Any problem there love?" He mocked you as he started to thrust his fingers in and out of you, you would have retorted with something witty had it not been that yoongi was making you moan and groan so good, you felt fool with his fingers knuckle deep inside you hitting that perfect spot only he could find.

Yoongi kept his thrust even until he felt you clench around his digit that was when he picked up his pace making you cry out his name in a bliss as white covered your vision and you saw stars when you came on his finger, yoongi helping you through you high and once he was sure you were okay, he pulled his fingers out licking them clean before he placed a kiss on your shoulder.

You laid there silently for a moment or two as you felt yoongi giving you a back massage while he spread paint on your back, once he was done you finally looked back at him, "not exhausted right?" You couldn't help but smile at the way yoongi cared even though you knew he needed you right now too, it was heart warming to know that for him you and your comfort always came first no matter what.

"Our quickies also have more than one round baby." You commented back trying to assure him that you were not thoroughly spent, who were you kidding there had been far more times when you and yoongi kinda did the very thing the song 69 talked about.

"I don't see a lie there." Yoongi comments back helping you to turn around and lay on your back as he came to press his lips against yours, you giggled against his lips when his fingers brushed against your tummy, you felt yoongi smile in the kiss as he positioned himself against you, you pulled his bottom lip between your teeths tugging at it as he pushed into.

You let his bottom lip go moaning along side him at the way you felt filled in that moment, a connection that felt like you were made for him, yoongi didn't felt different either he felt like you were the missing pieces of his life, the pieces that would complete the puzzle we call life and just like a puzzle fits perfectly you fit perfectly against him.

"I love you." You both whispered at the same time chuckling right after at the moment, it was so serene and peaceful you could do this for a life time, yoongi stayed buried inside you for a moment longer before he pulled out halfway and then thrusted in again, "once I am done taking you like this, i will make you bounce on my cock." Yoongi's words made you clench around him a deep moan eliciting from somewhere within your chest as yoongi pulled out and thrusted harshly inside you again.

"You like that?.. ofcourse you like it, you are a dirty girl..a slut who likes to be used by me..want me to tell you what else I will do to you?" Yoongi laughs when you clench around him even harder at the way he talks, it turns you so much, yoongi turns you on so much that you don't mind any position or any number of times he is willing to take you in.

"How about I fuck you from behind?, spank that pretty little ass of yours so good that you can't sit without thinking about me, you like that ..ngh ...fuck look at the way you are clenching around me.." you weren't able to thinking about the way yoongi was trying to tease you, you were far too gone in the pleasure to even think about anything, every thing yoongi said you wanted him to do that to you.

You knew your clenching around yoongi was making him get closer to his release too, it was make him lose his mind too and the absolute proof was the way he was twitching inside of you while he kept thrusting inside you in a harsh pace. You were sure had it not been for yoongi's before hand arrangements the canvas would have gave in by now, you were glad that yoongi was so good at planning things and paying attention to little things, it made you love him even more.

You couldn't help but stare in awe at the man who you claimed to love with all you heart, his forehead glistening with sweat as the light from the ceiling lights brightened his features, the way his deep throat grunts were edging you off and when his fingers rubbed circles against your clit you finally gave in, feeling the white blanket covering your vision again as stars danced in front of you, your release seeming to trigger even yoongi's as he came into you with one last thrust.

His body slumping on top of yours while you trying to catch your breathe, yoongi slipped from on top of you before pulling you to him, a quick peck pressed to your hairline with a i love you. It didn't end just then though, yoongi had promised you a lot more rounds after that too so that's exactly what you guys did.

_________________________________________

"Hey yoongi hyung!" Jungkook's calling drew yoongi out from the kitchen where he was helping you, he headed to where the maknae was, yoongi's steps flattering slightly when he saw where the youngest was standing, his eyes fixed on the same spot where jungkook was looking at, "yea?" Yoongi tried to play it cool but the way the maknae looked so focused had him feeling an itch of nervousness inside him, "you never told me that you were getting so good at painting." Jungkook's comment made the elder laugh, as his eyes jumped from jungkook to the canvas hung covering one of yoongi's living room wall, a whole series of flashback shooting through his mind at the images.

"It just slipped my mind." Yoongi mumbled out looking back to jungkook for a quick moment before his eyes wandered away to where you were inside the kitchen, an evil mischievous grin plastered on your face while you mouthed a 'Suits you.' in yoongi's direction before jin walks in to talk to you about something.

"It's kind of impressive how nice you have used the brush strokes."

Oh jungkook only if you knew.

#bts fanfic #bts army #min suga #min yoongi #suga fanfic #yoongi ff #yoongi fics #yoongi x reader #augstdfanfic #yoongi smut #bts smut #suga smut #soft yoongi #canvas

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foxymoxynoona · 2 years ago

Note

i have a drabble request for your anniversary 🥺

it’s not related to any of your stories… but since you’re so good at writing about kids, could we please have a drabble where yoongi is a dad calmly letting his tiny kiddos crawl all over him (maybe one running a teeny tiny car up his arm and one draped over his thigh pointing at things on his laptop screen etc) as he quietly works on his computer or something like that 🥹🥹 like never once telling them to get off of him, just letting them be like his irl counterpart whenever the tannies bother him 🥹 then maybe eventually oc feels bad for him and rounds them up so that their daddy can work in peace 🥹

Ok I sort of got carried away and I'm not sure I checked all the boxes but I hope you still enjoy this!

Characters: Dad Yoongi x Y/N, their two kids Length: 4878 World: It can stand alone but it's the same kiddos as this one shot

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“The cat forgot to lock the door. Mouse came to visit and the door was…”

“Ajar,” Yoongi said, not even looking away from his laptop, balanced precariously on the armrest of the couch.

Kija remained silent. He contemplated. Yoongi didn’t look at him, just waited.

He resumed reading but did not repeat the word the way he used to. Before, if he found something he didn’t know, it was easy to offer the answer. His spongy young mind latched onto every new discovery and wanted to immediately try it his new knowledge. But now, suddenly, he didn’t want the help. He refused it. Didn’t even acknowledge with a tantrum unless you pushed it, he just moved right along after a pause, as if he wanted to pretend he hadn’t heard.

Yoongi continued to half-listen, half-let Kija’s voice fade into the background as a third half of his brain tried to make sense of the session notes –wait that wasn’t the right number of halves. He closed his eyes and let out a slow, quiet breath.

Joo reached over and rolled her toy car across the keyboard. Ah, that’s where the other half of his brain was supposed to be.

“Hey,” he cooed, and gently nudged her hand away. “That’s not a road, aegiya. Not on the keyboard.”

“Appa are you listening to me?” Kija demanded.

“I am.”

A catch-22: Kija wanted to be simultaneously closely listened to and unperceived.

Kija gave him a hard glare, then turned back to the book. First grade was a struggle so far, that was the truth. But Yoongi swallowed the smile because his son still wanted to be heard, and tuned more of his brain to it, and more of his brain to shuffling Joo to the other side of the couch, even though it meant he had to move towards the middle and shift his laptop to balance on his knees. It wasn’t conducive to answering emails. Nor was having two halves of his brain now focused on two children with no more halves left for email reading. Especially an email with label notes on the recent album, notes he needed to ingest and consider and then spit out into two categories: those I will consider, those I reject completely.

He looked at Joo. Her eyes widened, two dark starry orbs. At two, she could already speak in full sentences but often chose not to, keeping most of her odd little thoughts to herself until she’d suddenly surprise you.

Now she pointed at the computer and asked him, “Is it a good one?”

“A good one? Is what a good one?”

“Make the music, Appa.”

“No, not yet, we’re listening to Kijaya read right now,” he reminded her. He touched a finger to his lips to shush her.

Kija grumbled behind them and huffed, “Don’t listen to me.” Yoongi glanced over his shoulder; Kija glanced over his own shoulder to check if Yoongi was watching, then quickly looked away. He resumed reading, his little voice slow and soft, caressing each word with uncertainty, as if waiting for Yoongi to correct him.

Yoongi did not. Mistakes were nothing to be ashamed of. Yoongi was all too familiar with performance anxiety and wouldn’t create it in his son by interrupting his storytelling for something trivial like a mispronounced word. You could be right later, your first contributions to the world should just be about presence.

“Don’t listen so much to me,” Kija complained in the silence. “It’s too quiet. I can’t read when it’s quiet.”

“You’re doing well,” Yoongi said. As soon as he spoke, Kija started reading again, like he could slip his words beneath his father’s and leave them half hidden, half heard. So Yoongi asked Joo quietly, “Do you want to see the audio?”

Joo sounded so serious as she answered, “Yeah.” She got that ‘yeah’ from Yoongi, he knew that. He didn’t babytalk his children much, just certain words, certain pet names, but mostly he spoke to them with respect and trust from the time they were babies, and it provided him endless amusement when they repeated him later. “Just live life,” Kija used to say when he meant I don’t know. “Ah, I see,” Kija used to say, an exact copy of Yoongi. “Ah, I see,” Joo would repeat now too, her expression even more of a mirror. And then sometimes, “You think so?” A little toddler, short ponytails sticking straight out from her head like antennae, asking, “You think so?” as if taunting about how the attempts to get a nap out of her were going to go. She badly needed the nap but God forbid you try to get her down if Kija was home. She could not miss out on a single minute of whatever her favorite older brother was doing.

Yoongi opened an audio file, muted, but let her watch the visualizer on his screen. Her eyes reflected the rising and falling bars, the red, orange, yellow, and green blocks she recreated with wooden blocks. He was certain that’s what she was doing, stacking them next to each other, adding and subtracting blocks. You insisted he was projecting but he knew what he knew.

Kija glanced over and his voice faltered before he returned his attention to his book, little face a scowl. Suddenly he slammed the book shut and threw it to the floor.

“Hm?” Yoongi prompted, gentle. Joo’s gasp was loud.

“Oh no! Book is down!” she cried, and instantly lowered herself to the ground to fetch it. “Kiki you drop him!”

“I don’t want it,” he scoffed. His arms crossed and he turned his back to her, awkwardly facing the back of the couch in a full sulk.

Yoongi held his hand out for the book and said again, “Hm.”

“Hm.” Kija mocked. Angry. Such an angry little boy sometimes lately, and it scared Yoongi. He hadn’t expected Kija to feel that kind of anger until he was at least a rebellious adolescent –and hopefully Yoongi would be able to help him manage that better than he had his own. You were the one who better knew how to handle the emotions and behavior of this age; Yoongi never knew what was normal and what wasn’t, what online articles to believe, or which pediatrician could be trusted. You’d gone through three now, each one shed after some perceived failure on Yoongi’s part. In life, he was open to compromise on most things. But not music. Not his devotion to you. And not the health and needs of his children.

“Do you not like the story anymore?” Yoongi asked gently. “Or are you frustrated?” The boy who at other times could wax poetic about the shenanigans of his friends at school now just grunted and twisted further away on the couch. “We can read a different book if you’re bored with that one,” Yoongi offered as a way out.

“Diff book!” Joo cheered and went right to the stack by the door to get her favorite National Geographic book, one of those big heavy glossy coffee table ones –a gift from Uncle Namjoon, as if he didn’t think Yoongi would instill enough appreciation for nature in his own kids. The book was clunky in her arms as she determinedly hauled it over.

“You’re doing great at reading,” Yoongi assured Kija. It was true. He was a little behind his peers, but nothing alarming; the fact he could read at all by six seemed insane to Yoongi. He hadn’t been reading at six. Kids these days… everything in the schools was so different. Everything in the world too, frankly. Phones, computers, video games, social media–

Yoongi pushed away the bigger worries and continued, “I had a hard time with it in school too but it worked out in the end, I just had to keep at it.” Even as he said it, Yoongi hated his own words. He still didn’t read much for pleasure, though sometimes he found articles that were worth the effort. Music had always come more easily to him, the notes on a staff making more sense to him than letters on a page. He liked poetry, too. Lyrics. Heavy prose bored him, he had no patience for dense pages.

“I don’t have a hard time with it!” Kija shouted and spun again to keep Yoongi from reaching for him. Just as he reached for his son, Joo dropped the book on her foot and began to wail. The heavy cover opened so the book landed standing upright, and when she reached down for her foot, she bashed her mouth on the corner.

In moments like this, with both kids crying, Yoongi found his steadiness overwhelmed. He felt like a bad dad because inside his calm resolve began to fracture and his cool exterior was a lie. Dads shouldn’t have to lie like that. He didn’t have the right words or energy to wrap two crying children up in a tornado of hugs and kisses that would distract them with warmth the way you did. You’d always recognized his steadiness, his caretaking, even though it was lowkey. He was dependable. But a frustrated six year old and a two year old with a boo-boo didn’t need cautious reliability, they needed… you.

But you weren’t here right now. Hour twenty-six of the fifty-four you’d be away. Not that he was counting or anything.

Yoongi scooped Joo up to comfort first, only to realize she was bleeding. Not hospital level bad, but more than he wanted his daughter to bleed, her little lip red where she’d hit the book. For a moment he had parental panic because steadfastness didn’t teach you how to soothe a bleeding toddler. He grabbed a napkin from the pile he’d accumulated from takeout bags over time and pressed it to her lip and bounced her around and tried to think of a silly song to distract her but his mind was blanking on children’s songs because it rattled him. Even a little bit of blood was an unwelcome reminder of how little he could truly do to protect his children.

“Are we ready for ice cream? I think it’s a good idea,” he decided. Suddenly Kija was more interested. Joo stopped wailing and nodded at him with her big watery eyes still leaking tears. At least today the hurt was something he could fix with a special treat.

While funneling ice cream into his mouth, Kija returned to his more cheerful self. Chocolate smeared across his cheeks, he suddenly poured out a stream of stories from school as Yoongi tried to keep Joo from getting chocolate all down the front of her white dress. It was hopeless. Only a stylish person with no kids (Hoseok) would give a child such an expensive all-white dress. You had sagged against the wall laughing later when the two of you discovered it was dry-clean only after a messy meal, and Yoongi had fallen in love with you all over again, that you could laugh so hard about what others might cry over. Into the regular wash the white dress had gone and so far it was still rotating through, though the chocolate might finally be the stain that took it down.

“And then my friend Tum had to clean the whole house all by himself and it took him four hours,” Kija shared. “His family didn’t even help! It was so mean.”

Belatedly Yoongi realized he wasn’t really listening, and quickly prompted, “How did you hear about this?” despite his initial impulse to point out this was unlikely to be true.

“He wrote about it for Daily.”

“What’s daily?”

Kija suddenly looked very serious. Yoongi could practically feel him shrink away. Suddenly he perked up and started talking about something else completely, “Giganotosaurus was bigger than the t-rex but not as smart.”

“Who would win in a fight?” Yoongi asked, taking a page from Jungkook’s parenting book without meaning to. The question never failed to get kids talking though, he had to hand it to him.

“Um… I don’t know how to answer that because they lived in different places.”

Yoongi didn’t try to contain his laughter. It confused Kija and Joo, though it didn’t slow down their ice cream consumption.

“You are so much like me sometimes,” Yoongi muttered.

“No I’m not.”

“No? I think you are. That’s a good thing, I hope.”

“You don’t want to be like me?”

Yoongi quickly corrected, “No, maybe you don’t want to be like your dad. Sometimes kids don’t want to be like their fathers. You can be your own person too, I don’t mean you have to be exactly like me. Just that we think alike sometimes.”

“So what?”

“Yea, so what,” Yoongi nodded. But his brain cycled back in the conversion and he pressed, “Hey, what’s the Daily thing you mentioned?”

Kija answered easily this time, “Every day after Morning Meeting the teacher tells us something we have to write about in our journal.”

“What do you write about?”

“Um… stuff. I don’t know. Dinosaurs and dogs and… dumplings.”

“Only things that start with ‘D’?”

“Huh? They don’t all start with D.”

“Those things all do. Dinosaurs, dogs, dumplings–”

“No they don’t,” Kija huffed. “Stop saying that!”

“But they do. Each of those words begins with–”

He clamped his hands to his ears and shouted, “Stop! You don’t know that!”

Yoongi let out a deep sigh and began trying to mop Joo up.

“More,” she demanded.

“No.”

“Ice cream for din-din. More please.”

“No– shit, it is almost dinner time,” he mumbled. Normally dinner was his part of the managed schedule so it wasn’t like him to forget it, but with you gone, the whole schedule was harder to maintain. The hours dragged on but then a whole afternoon passed and he hadn’t gotten anything done. It felt like you’d been gone for days; your absence was so achingly loud in a house never silent thanks to the two children. They hadn’t slept well last night with you gone, and neither had Yoongi; tonight would probably be the same, and tummies full of nothing but ice cream wouldn’t help.

“I know all the letters,” Kija muttered. He dragged his fingers through a splash of chocolate ice cream on the white counter. “I know them more than you.”

Yoongi shrugged, “I’m a lot older so it’s normal that I know more about reading and writing. But you know more than me about dinosaurs and Pokemon.”

“Yeah you don’t even know the difference between Dodrio and Diglett.”

“Don’t they both have three heads?”

“Well…” Kija’s eyes narrowed like he suddenly suspected Yoongi was hiding some vast Pokemon knowledge. He was not. That was basically the only thing he knew. “Yes,” Kija admitted.

“So am I a Poke-Champ now?” He knew it was Master but he liked seeing Kija’s eyes light up to correct him. He didn’t usually play that kind of game with Kija, he was direct and honest with his son, but he felt like Kija could use the confidence boost right now.

“Appa carrots please?” Joo demanded, resting her sticky fingers on Yoongi’s arm.

“You want carrots now?”

Joo nodded and smiled. He glanced at the clock and understood this was dinner for real now. Might as well ply them with carrots and yogurt and anything else he could get them to eat after ice cream.

Kija had clammed up again but Joo chatted happily enough for them both as Yoongi chopped up fruits and vegetables, microwaved some rice, and reheated yesterday’s noodles. As the kids picked at the offerings, he realized he’d forgotten to take their lunches out of their backpacks after picking them up from school and hurried to do that before he forgot again and had to deal with a gross surprise in the morning when it was time to repack.

In pulling Kija’s bento out, he noticed a couple papers crumpled at the bottom of the backpack, like they’d been shoved in and then forgotten. Sometimes Kija brought home drawings and he got upset if they got wrinkled like that; many times now you’d carefully smoothed them out, even painstakingly ironed one when Kija sobbed that it was ruined by the creases.

Kija felt things so big. He stayed out of sight so as not to set Kija off again if these were precious crumbled art. Yoongi felt so inadequate as a father when Kija felt things so big; it wasn’t that his own feelings were never big, but that his expression of them was so different than his son’s. Joo seemed to handle things more like him. He felt like he disappointed Kija sometimes when he wasn’t dancing and leaping with him, and like he failed him when he couldn’t comfort during his worst moods. He was trying harder to do both… at least Joo thought his attempts at dancing when Kija beat a level in his video game were funny. Kija had just thought he was mocking him and you had needed to smooth it over.

Yoongi flattened the first paper and surveyed the cartoonish ice cream cone with big sparkly eyes. The second was a drawing of… things. Yoongi had no clue what, all very boxy, lots of lines, but he got the impression they were things –robots or Pokemon or animals he couldn’t recognize.

The third was a writing sheet, a printed template that said “Daily Journal” at the top. Kija had written his name and the date, both shaky and clunky. The prompt was “I am good at ________.”

And in the space left to write, twenty lines meant to contain Kija’s little boy pride in all the things he was good at, his son had written only: i am thee fort fast runer in my klas.

Yoongi studied that response for a moment. Kija was good at lots of things. Up until recently, Kija would have been all too eager to tell you all the things he was good at, true or not! But when given the opportunity to brag or even lie, he’d written so little..

Yoongi carried the paper over and asked, “Kija, what is this?” Kija glanced at the paper and said nothing. “This is what you meant by a Daily, right? Why do you have only one thing listed here? What about all the other things you are good at?” Kija rested his chin on the table and wouldn’t look at Yoongi. Joo thought this was funny and started to giggle until Kija shouted at her, then she turned to tears.

“Do not yell at your sister. No one deserves to get yelled at ever. Only yell if someone is in danger, right?”

Kija suddenly lunged and took the paper from Yoongi. He slid from the stool and began to crumple it again, clearly headed for the trashcan. Yoongi let him do it. He leaned against the counter where the kids ate and waited until Kija came back, dusting his hands like a job well done.

“Why did you throw it away?”

“Because it’s bad.”

“What’s bad about it?”

“It’s not even true,” Kija told him. “Logan, Nolan, Kasi, Do, Win, and Iseul are all faster than me so that means I’m not even number six.”

“So what?”

Kija glared at him like he just didn’t understand.

“You don’t have to be the best to be good at something,” Yoongi corrected, recognizing this as a big teaching moment. “Who cares how good other people are? Don’t get into the habit of comparing yourself to other people. Just look at yourself and all that you accomplish.” Kija leaned his cheek in his hand and stabbed his chopsticks into his rice. “We’re going to make a new list,” Yoongi decided, going for the notepad you kept by the fridge for making shopping lists. He brought it back with a pen and set it on the table.

Kija just stared.

“You can name some things you’re good at.”

“Kiki is good at stories!” Joo offered.

“Yes. And you’re good at helping with your little sister,” Yoongi nodded. He wrote these down. “You’re good at drawing and at helping me pick out the best fruit at the market.”

“Those are dumb things.”

“They aren’t dumb. You are good at being a friend, you know all the things your friends like and don’t like. You are good at throwing a ball with Uncle Taehyung, right? He said you were good at it.” Yoongi could see none of these things were making Kija feel even a little better though. “What’s going on? What are you thinking about all this?”

Apparently it was the right question.

“I’m not good at writing the words so it doesn’t matter,” Kija insisted. “And at math class the numbers don’t stay the same in my head.”

“What do you mean, they don’t stay the same?”

“I can’t remember the numbers and what they do and I don’t remember all the sounds the letters can make either so I’m basically dumb.”

“You aren’t dumb.”

“I am dumb,” Kija insisted.

“You are six years old, it’s not possible for you to be dumb because you aren’t supposed to know anything yet. You’re just supposed to be learning.”

“Everyone else learns faster than me.”

“It’s not a race–”

“Everyone else gets papers on the Daily Wall but not me and I don’t get smiley faces on my Dailies.”

Yoongi paused and really took in the serious things his son was telling him. Joo got quiet too, looking between them. He understood. Boy, did he understand the feeling of failure when your papers came back red. He remembered what it was like when he stopped trying in school because then it didn’t hurt so bad when he failed. He remembered what it was like thinking he was stupid too, when in reality he just hadn’t found his place yet. Once he was free of school and the pressure was gone, he learned more easily, and he always had his music skill and passion to lean on.

“There are lots of ways to be smart and school is only one way,” Yoongi told him. Six was too young to already be worried. He deserved smiley faces on his papers, even if they weren’t quite right, even if it was just a smiley face for trying. “Do you remember how happy you were when you started reading stories to me and Joo at bedtime?”

“Yeah…” Kija admitted. “But I just memorized them.”

“So what? That is a very smart thing to do.”

“It’s not the same as reading.”

“No, it’s not, but that doesn’t make it worse. Memorizing things is a very hard thing to do too. So how about after dinner we read that book again, but I’ll read it slowly to you and you can practice memorizing it. Then you can read it to Eomma when she gets home.”

“But I won’t be reading it.”

“It still counts,” Yoongi assured him. “She’ll be so impressed and you like to do that, don’t you? Tell us stories?”

“Yes.”

“Then it doesn’t matter, it’s ok to do things just because you enjoy them. I enjoy when you read to us, no matter how slow you need to take to sound the words out. I’m not in a rush.”

“Me too!” Joo added. “I am not russ too.”

Kija smiled at her, “Rush, not russ. Shhhh.’” He reached out and brushed a few grains of rice off his sister’s cheek. “She’s cute but she’s not very good at feeding herself yet.”

“Well she’s two. And you’re six. You learn things when you learn them.”

“How old are you?”

“It’s not important.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t remember. When you get to be as old as me, it’s hard to remember what the number is.”

“Oh.” Kija gave him a gentle look. “You don’t count very good, huh? Only music counting?”

Yoongi snorted, “I like math more now that I’m not in school. In school it was hard when the teachers wanted me to do things fast but I needed more time… so if that’s how you feel, you’re just like me that way too.”

“Oh.” Kija watched Joo fondly for a moment and Yoongi figured he was about to learn something new about dinosaurs, that Kija’s mind had already slipped onto more enjoyable thoughts. Instead he said after a moment, “I guess I’m good at being like my appa.”

“Yeah.”

“Everyone always says Joo is more like you but maybe I can be good at being like you too.”

“You want to be?” Yoongi couldn’t help himself asking. It was so damn flattering.

“Yeah but I like being like eomma too.”

“It’s like I said, you can be good at lots of things. Just like you’re good at being just yourself, not like anyone else in the world.” Yoongi nodded and smiled and felt slightly more competent as a father for just one brief moment. It was wild to realize his parents must have had these same thoughts. They’d been such adults to him when he was Kija’s age and yet they’d been even younger than he was now. At what point did you become the competent adult your six-year-old thought you were?

“The first dinosaur ever was named the eoraptor,” Kija told him, interrupting his thoughts. “It means ‘dawn stealer.’”

“Did it wake up early every day?”

Kija rolled his eyes, “No, appa, because it was the dawn of the dinosaurs, get it? It was the size of a dog. I think we should get a dog and name it Eoraptor.”

“Isn’t it too much like Eomma? She might get jealous.”

“Ok we can name a dog something else,” Kija grinned.

“I didn’t say we could get a dog.”

“I’m telling eomma you said we could get a dog.”

Joo sighed loudly, “I want a cat.”

“We have a cat.”

“More cat!” she cheered.

“I’m telling Eomma you said yes and then she’ll never want to leave us again.”

“We’re enough to bring her back,” Yoongi assured them both. “Let’s just show her how well we can do things even when she’s gone so she knows we were all really good at taking care of each other. Who’s going to help me wash the dishes?”

Both kids wanted to, a pleasant surprise. They behaved for a bath and got to watch a few cartoons after you called to say goodnight so Yoongi could have a moment longer with you. He decided not to mention yet Kija’s school frustration –not that you didn’t know, you were such an attentive parent, but that maybe it was worth looking into. Was he too young, would it add pressure, would it make Kija feel like some possible diagnosis defined him? Yoongi had never been diagnosed with anything and he’d made it through and found his way in life. But damn, he’d been miserable for a lot of years. He didn’t know if there was other help available for him at the time, if his parents could have done more than they did… Maybe he could do better both at helping Kija know school didn’t define him and getting him whatever extra help he needed to feel supported…

He wouldn’t put that on you right now, not when this was such a short time for you to try and catch a break from round-the-clock parenting. For now he just showed off that he and the kids were doing well, proud they were both freshly scrubbed in the video call. He made sure to angle the camera so you wouldn’t see the parts of the house he hadn’t managed to tidy yet. It was hard being down his partner, but he was glad you could get the break.

Snuggled down in bed all together, Yoongi read books slowly so Kija could read closely along with him. He’d never felt like he had a great reading voice, he read in fits and starts, so it was better for him to take his time anyway. Kija read the last book, an old favorite he had already memorized, while Yoongi pointed at the words as Kija said them.

Once Kija fell asleep, curled up with the book he’d been struggling with earlier, Yoongi carried him to his own bed. Joo proved more challenging, waking as soon as Yoongi lifted her. He knew he ought to have put them in their own beds to start, but hey, he was lonely with you gone too. So he let Joo stay in his bed after all. And when Kija came tip-toeing back in an hour later, while Yoongi was still checking the final emails on his phone, he welcomed him back and let him stay. He didn’t make it through the emails. Instead he sent you an email with nothing but a heart emoji in it. It was simple, but it would make you smile. You never seemed to mind when his affection was simple.

You had now been gone for thirty-two of the fifty-four hours.

Yoongi had never missed you more.

But at least he had two little pieces of you to sleep sprawled across him, just like you would have if you were here.

#dad yoongi #yoongi drabble #yoongi x reader #yoongi fanfiction #yoongi ff #yoongi fluff #bts drabble #min yoongi x y/n #min yoongi fanfic

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mikassaviola · 6 months ago

Text

Best Friends Brother|MYG

Description: Your best friend's older sexy brother. The older one. Smart. Intelligent. The one who advises you about life ever since you were a kid.

Warnings: age gap, reader is 20, Yoongi is 27, Soft Dom Yoongi, Mentions of insecurity indirectly, Unprotected sex, slight fingering, appreciation, nipple sucking, after shower after care, cute stuff?

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You and your best friend Mina were now eating pizza and sharing reels to one another, meeting after a long time and having big plans.

But this is what you were actually doing.

Nothing.

But it was comfortable.

Mina's phone ringing interrupted you as you looked at her lazily picking up the phone and putting it to her ear.

Just like Yoongi, you thought.

You shook your head, it had been too long since you met him. He's probably busy with some music projects in Seoul.

Meanwhile you and Mina went to different colleges and met up like this after a long long time, fixing your schedules when free.

"Oh you're here? Sure sure, yeah", You heard her say, as you curiously eyes her. She was getting up after cutting the call.

"It's Jungkook, you know the guy who was three years our senior?", Mina said and you nodded still confused as to where this conversation was going.

"Yeah, the jock guy", You replied casually.

"Well I've been going out with him for a while, and he's outside.. I'll be back by the night?", She asked but didn't really ask as she was already putting on her socks after jeans.

"I didn't even know how long you've been dating? Is he good? Seemed like a Playboy back in the day", You asked completely not expecting that. She hasn't told you she's been dating for a while?

"Three months, will see you. I'll probably be late cover for me yeah?", She said leaving you alone in her house.

You were supposed to catch up, watch a scary movie at night, do your face mask and stuff. Just you and her.

But in these two years ever since you joined colleges you've been drifting apart, it's no secret.

She can feel it, you can too. Always inseparable during school, best of friends and all that shit just going into trash as soon as you joined.

Your personalities were really different and in the back of your mind you already saw this coming.

The bell rang making you frown, no one was supposed to be here.

Her parents have gone out for the weekend hence your plan of staying, her brother's in Seoul and she possibly can't be back so soon.

She clearly stated that she'd be back by night.

You walked to the door, your over thinking ass wondering if it's a serial killer as you opened the door.

It was quite the opposite. It was Yoongi. With a big ass suitcase. Dresses in dark blue jeans and a yellow T-shirt.

He looked handsome.

"Hi, uhm long time", You mumbled stepping aside giving him a way in.

He was also surprised to see you, hoping for his mom to answer the door.

"Yeah, how you doing?", He asked walking to his room casually as multiple questions popped inside your head.

Why is he here? Is he staying? Did something happen at work? Is he good?

He looked like he lost a lot of weight. He walked back inside probably after keeping the suitcase as you filled a glass of water for him to take.

"Thanks uh, so where's everyone else? Didn't expect you here", He asked drinking his water in one go as you leaned on the counter across him just like he was.

"Your parents are out for the weekend, and I was uhm with Mina, she uhm... She's out buying some snacks for us, I was supposed to stay in your room since Mina snores", You said as he gazed at you nodding at your words.

"Yeah, I didn't really tell anyone so..", He said shrugging at the end and you nodded taking in his words.

"Why don't we sit down?", You walked to his room because Mina's was really quite messy, not like he would mind she was his sister but you just thought it'd be better.

Less messy and probably more comfortable for him, he's back after like an year? Or even longer.

After you were settled down on his bed and him beside you leaning at the headboard you asked.

"Is it fine at your work?", You said looking at him. He was just looking up. He looked pretty, his cheeky cheeks and pretty feline eyes.

You missed this. Sitting like this and talking about life with him.

"It is yeah, although it was getting too much, felt like I wasn't getting a break. So another producer offered me to take off for like a month or two", He explained smiling slightly making you smile.

"Sounds good Yoongi, you got good colleagues", You said following his gaze and staring at the ceiling. Many star stickers pasted on the ceiling.

Back when Yoongi and Mina shared a room and Mina wanted a starry ceiling, her room was their store back then. Then she turned 8 and got her personal room.

"I do, what about you? How's it going at college?", He asked the question you dreaded. You didn't know whether to ramble to him how shitty everything is, the last was two years back.

When you were 18 and were about to start college.

But now things are different. Yoongi has always been smart but he looked even more mature, having work experience too now.

"It's fine", You said but Yoongi could tell it wasn't.

You were different. Introvert. Never opened up to anyone really. He didn't like that you weren't even telling him things like you used to. But then again he was the one who was focused on work never taking a break. Less calls. Less texts.

"Mhm, made many friends?", He asked and you looked at him to find him already looking at you.

"Not really but I'm fine", You shrugged.

"You miss Mina?", He asked.

"Of course I wish she was in my college would've made things easier but that's okay too", You said. You never said it out loud. Not to Mina because every time she talked about her college. She was always doing so good.

"Mina would've come back by now", Yoongi mumbled checking the time and you sighed.

"Look, she's with a guy. Please don't tell your parents, will be back by night", You bit your lower lip waiting for him to react and he shrugged.

"Should've told me Y/N, she's an adult now. Although she shouldn't have left you alone", Yoongi said.

He noticed the pained expression that took over your face, scrunching his face and cocking his face to the side giving you the look.

You sighed. "We've just drifted apart I guess", You let out, rubbing your forehead slightly.

"Impossible, you were so close", Yoongi retorts totally shocked and you smiled slightly.

"We have, ever since college started, she made new friends, a boyfriend, she's having her own adventures that the boring me could never suggest", You chuckled slightly hurt. You thought she'd always choose you even though you can be really constant about your life.

"You literally made her jump roofs", Yoongi exclaimed and you immediately groaned at the memory of the 14 year old you.

"Not that adventure, the smoking, clubbing types. I've never been that kind of person Yoongi, you know it and she has always been an extrovert", You explained a little frustrated.

"Then she's choosing shit if that's what she wants, what about you", He asked.

"I have been the same, not many friends and all, I just miss Mina and I miss you", You said looking at him as he sighed.

"You're really awesome, just don't think you're boring or stuff because your adventure isn't Mina's cup of tea", Yoongi explained and you smiled. Always good with his words.

"You know I'm sometimes jealous of her, because she's so good at it. At communication. Like she's forgetting about me and here I'm stuck with her memories", You chuckled at the realisation that you were saying this to Yoongi.

"Mhm and?", Yoongi asks as you bite your lip. He surely knows you to the point that he understands when you want to say more but won't because you think he'd judge you.

"And, she's good with guys. Don't get me wrong, they come back. And the guy I dated. God he made me feel horrible. Like I wasn't a good fuck, had me scarred for life I guess", You let it out and laughed afterwards masking the hurt with it.

"And you believed him? Didn't even try anyone else? Maybe he was bad at it yanno?", Yoongi argued knows you too well to know you're hurt. Knows you're an overthinker.

"I couldn't try someone else", You said a force in your words, your eyes on him, his on yours, his eyebrows furrowed.

"Why?", He asked.

"Because, I-", You leaned over placing your lips on his.

He's been talking for too long, knows you're fucked. He looks so pretty doing nothing. You just can't help when he's so close to you after so long.

Fuck the besties code that you and Mina never talked about. About not being with each other's siblings.

Your hands settled around his neck as he started moving along your lips after a while. It got hot and wet after a while as you devoured each other.

Yoongi has always liked you, you were so different and adventurous and good at talks completely opposite of what you just told him.

And when you kissed him, for a second he thought he was simply imagining it but here you were gripping on his collar as his hands sneaked around your waist.

You pulled back out of breath.

"Because every time I'm with a guy, you're on my mind. Yoongi would've listened better, replied better", You said pecking his lips in between your words as he just stared at you baffled by your actions.

"Would've touched me better", You said placing yourself on his lap.

"Shit you gotta reply to me Yoongi", You said grinding on his crotch as Yoongi took your hands pushing you back and climbed over you.

"God do you have any idea what you're doing?", Yoongi said as your heart beat fastened inside your chest at the proximity. Your actions registering in your head as you got red and red. "Never took you the one to be so reckless", Yoongi pointed out his lips finding your neck making you gasp.

"Yoongi", You whined as he started un buttoning your t-shirt trailing kisses along it making your skin burn as he reached in between your breasts.

"Was so glad when I saw you open the door", He mumbled against your skin softly making you whine.

"Yoongi, I"- You gasped when he took your nipple in his mouth. You didn't wear a bra knowing only you and Mina would be at home.

"You're so pretty baby, Mina is just stupid", Yoongi says leaning back sitting up and removing his T-shirt.

You both half naked, your cheeks red, chest heaving up and down as Yoongi traced your tummy and grabbed your boobs making you hiss.

"So sensitive here", Yoongi cooed coming down to lick your nippled and suck on them as you pulled on his locks slightly making him groan.

Giving both of your nipples a good suck he trailed his kisses down, biting and nipping on your skin making you whine out.

"So loud, all for me bet that boy didn't worship this perfect body", Yoongi said toying with your waistband.

"Yoongi please I want you to touch me", You whined out as he pulled down your trousers along with your panties.

"I am touching you", He said and you whined making him laugh at you, his gums showing.

He spread your legs for his eyes to see, his laugh fading and his eyes darken when he looked at your cunt.

"You want me so bad, don't you? Look at you baby, so fucking messy, all for me", He said his right hand leaving your leg and coming down to your pussy pushing a finger inside.

"Fuck yes, Yoongi. All for you ", You mumbled your breath catching in your throat and he pumped his finger in and out making you moan.

"I know", Yoongi murmured pulling down his jeans along with his boxers and holy fuck. You've never seen anything so big, not in porn, never in real life.

He was big and thick and perfectly long.

"Yoongi you're so beautiful", You moaned out feeling the need for him to be inside. "Please put it inside me", You said seeing slight pre cum leak out at your words.

"You have no idea what you're playing with, you want me so bad yeah?", Yoongi said pressing the head of his cock to your clit rubbing it up and down.

"I'll cry if you don't", You said out of frustration, not thinking before you spike making Yoongi grin.

"Would love to see that, will see that someday", He said pushing his full length inch by inch inside you as you opened your mouth and closed your eyes. Taking him in.

"Shit Yoongi, you're so so so big", You said out of breath and Yoongi leaned down pressing his lips to yours.

You could feel his veins rub against your pussy walls as he shifted slightly making you wince.

"So tight, so fucking tight. My fucking pussy", Yoongi rambled and gave you a long, slow but powerful thrust making you gasp.

"Yes, yes yours. God feels so heavenly", You said as he started thrusting in and out.

His dick filling you so well, reaching deeper with every thrust.

His hands holding yours above your head as he thrusted inside your pussy repeatedly and harshly.

"Yes yes yes yes Yoongi Yoongi Yoongi Yoongi Yoongi", You chanted like a mantra making him groan.

"Whoever said this is bad can fuck themselves, this is the best. Made for me. Mine", Yoongi growled sitting on his heels pulling you towards him holding your legs up as he thrusted inside you violently.

"Holy fuck, fuck, yoongi. Yoongi. Yoongi. Yoongi. Yoon- ah fuck - gi", You moaned feeling the knot in your stomach tighten.

"Fuck yes, tell everyone who's making you feel good. Who do you belong to baby? My pretty baby", Yoongi moaned his thrust getting sloppier and faster.

"You Yoongi", You cried out. "I am gonna"-

"Me too", Yoongi growled.

"Inside, Fill me, I'm on pill", You moaned feeling your orgasm wash over you and feeling overstimulated as he thrusted and thrusted until he came inside you with a groan.

Leaning his body over yours, sweat beads coating his forehead as he kissed you sweetly.

"You are so beautiful", Yoongi said, his voice deep and soft as you smiled.

"You are such a talker when you fuck", You said as he pressed his forehead to yours as you both laughed.

"You make me say things", Yoongi replied, both of you tired but had the biggest smiles on your faces.

"I love your smile, always have ever since we were kids", You mumbled taking his face in your hands and tracing your fingers over his gums.

"Ahan, is that so?", Yoongi asked and you giggled.

"Mhm, let's take a shower?", You asked making Yoongi get up as you both took a shower together. Bathing each other and talking.

"It's not a one time thing, don't overthink", Yoongi murmured drying your hair with a hair dryer.

"I know Yoongi, I'm looking forward to us", You said smiling at him wearing his t-shirt and shorts as he smiled back.

You both laying in your bed, your head on his chest, your arms up in the air as you measured your hands silently.

"You're so small", Yoongi exclaimed and you huffed.

"I'm taller than Mina", You said nuzzling your face in his neck bringing your hand down to wrap around hin.

"Never took you as the cuddly one, can live like this forever", Yoongi said making you smile.

"I know you're tired and want to sleep though, sleepy baby", You said.

"Baby? I'm like 7 years older?", Yoongi mocked and you both laughed. Glad that his age was not a matter of concern but something you were joking about and you hope it stays the same.

"okay baby", You teased, your laughs never fading as you both slept in each other's embrace.

A/N: you can lmk about my errors yk I'm like really new to this😭

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hoseoksluna · 3 months ago

Text

SMOKE, iv. | myg

pairing: idol!yoongi x smoke!oc (ft. jungkook)

genre: angst, heart-wrenching fluff

word count: 6.5k

summary: everything that hurts must begin to stop at one point.

pinterest board: smoke / taglist: join / discord: join

warnings: DOMESTIC ABUSE, oc gets triggered a lot in this chapter, dissociation, anxiety, alcohol consumption, a brief mention of physical violence, religion, praying, jk and oc smoke together.

note: hi, my babies. i'm here with another chapter. i really like this chapter a lot and i like where it's heading, so i hope you like it as much as you do. let me know what yout think. sorry, this is a bit short, but i didn't want to drag it out, esp. if everything that needed to get settled did. i love you all soso much, mwah.

When Jungkook appears, uncanvassed, damp and abysmal, in the field of my swimming vision, I have to stop dead in my tracks to see if my inebriated brain isn’t playing tricks on me.

He’s sat on the half-wet stone of the staircase leading up to the street where I live. My apartment complex is just straight up, a minute away from where he’s waiting for me, and the wheels within my brain cells begin to whirr and turn, reminding me that I tapped on the crescent moon icon on my phone before I absconded to my girl best friend for a heart-to-heart conversation and a new set of nails. Misty-eyed, I recounted to her the monochrome poetry lines that bloomed through last night between me and Yoongi and wilted in my bare, sleep-cloaked hands this morning while she filed down the freshly baked acrylic powder. The moment she heard the deadly words that were spat at me, she flung her rosy, tiger-print file across her station, got up to her feet without a word and came back with a bottle of my favorite pink nectar in even pinker, fancy glass, certainly not meant for wine.

And I downed each and every refill in one, singular gulp everytime she moved onto the next step and my hand was free.

And Miyun… as much as she erupted in her idiosyncratic rage, her work on my nails was immaculate and untouched by her vivid lava. Curses and funny remarks, that yanked the weight off my shoulders and wiped it out using her vigor and red-hot magma, shattered the room until I laughed so hard that the alcohol dipped into my system far quicker than usual. She glued on the crosses I had asked for while I chortled, and she shushed me, breaking into a soft, non-obvious laughter that she tried to keep at bay while her hair fanned around her. Cherry-red, long and lustrous, curling on the smooth skin of her arms. The laughter died down and silence replaced it as she laid down the last layer of top coat over her artwork—and I felt a certain inspiration seize me.

“What if I dyed my hair red, too?” I voiced it out, a seawave of different kinds of co-existing emotions ebbing and flowing in me. Airiness and offense, care and distance. And they were all roped around the memory of Yoongi in me like the roots of flowers in a colorful meadow soil. Vast and expansive, yet delicate and frail. One sweep of the wind’s harsh breath and they tilt—and remain tilted.

I do, too, despite my efforts.

Despite my ingrained fight to straighten and my strivings to be unaffected, unagitated and undisturbed by the way I was disrespected by Yoongi. They were all fruitless, however. Barren of my long-exercised resilience against the violence of men, my wariness and vigilance of them only strengthening.

He took me to the far north side of paradise with his tongue and fingers in the middle of the night. And when the sun rose, he treated me like I dragged him to the deepest of hell and left him there to perish of starvation and thirst.

I should have seen it coming and prepared myself for it, especially when I had decided in my heart to take care of him, take care of the deep-sunk, nameless agony in him that prevented him from coloring our stanzas. But alas… it came to face me too soon, in my gossamer defenselessness.

Yoongi metamorphosed into the vermin that Ji-hoon was. His face faded on top of his while my ex-boyfriend’s body remained intact, broad and fear-instilling. And when Yoongi stood up so quickly, I sailed back, against my will, to the sheer realm of brutality that I had dwelled in, years ago. Yoongi with Ji-hoon’s body, abandoning me after I got myself into trouble. For wearing too much make-up, for having long manicured nails, for dressing a certain way that was impertinent in our relationship. He would leave a bruise for every mistake I made to discipline me, to ascertain that I would learn from it and never do it again. And I did learn after I was depleted of color-correcting concealers, the sinews I would use to raise my hands and tap the cream product in, erasing my foolish mistakes from the eyes of Jungkook, Minyun and my parents.

I fought for too long during the relationship. For my freedom, for my dignity. And I fought for too long after the relationship to go through it all over again.

I dreaded being hit when Yoongi stood up from my couch. Flinched when he went around the coffee table past me because I anticipated the swing of his arm with my eyes boring holes into my carpet. I had flexed my muscles to brace myself against the incoming physical pain so hard that I nearly gasped, pathetically, for air when he walked on into the corridor.

But I still couldn’t look at him.

Although I knew, rationally, that Ji-hoon wasn’t present, I didn’t let up until he shut the door behind me with a soft click because my body didn’t connect to my clear-headedness. It was caught in a fight or flight response like an ensnared bird.

And this must’ve been what Minyun was seeing when she contemplated me, paused in the middle of dusting her station clean with her pale-pink kabuki brush. Because she resumed right after once I reciprocated her gaze and curled her lips under her teeth.

“We can go to Olive Young then, and stop by 7-Eleven after to get some snacks and drinks.”

She reflected on my wound and didn’t hesitate to cradle my head and bring me to a safe refuge.

And I didn’t hesitate to wrap my arms around her and hug her until all those oxymoronic emotions, which I felt towards Yoongi, dulled in the smallness of me.

I let her take the lead. Choose the vibrant, deep cherry tint that would annul my trigger and dye me anew. I sipped on my iced cherry drink for the occasion while she glided the brush along my strands, splattering most of the orange paste on the thick wisp of the symbol of my connection with Jungkook, the only man in my life who never used his manliness against me. I thought about him as she rubbed it in; and I thought about Grookey. Thought about how, in that very moment, I was saying goodbye to the self I possessed while being attached to them.

And when Minyun washed my hair and curled her round brush through it, the stark contrast to who I was before overwhelmed me so much that I began to weep.

I couldn’t recognize myself, I didn’t know who that girl in the mirror was. But something told me that she was stronger than who I used to be. And while it felt petrifying to be standing alone in the crook of my past self and my current self, the longer I gaped at myself, the more I adapted to the assurance that she was emanating.

She wasn’t going to take any shit from any man ever again. Certainly not with darkly, sequoia-kissed hair like that.

Minyun brushed her thumbs under my eyes and shifted me deeper into the refuge by grabbing my shoulders and guiding me to her balcony, where she sat me down on her chair while she crouched in front of me. Sliding a tiny cigarette into her IQOS and taking a puff, she leaned over to the square table and grabbed her pack, nudging a longer, classic cigarette between my chapped lips.

I never smoked on my own. I would take hits from her slender, pink case of flavored air or steal her cigarettes when I had enough buzz from the alcohol in my veins. Forget about it the following days and weeks that we wouldn’t see each other because I was such a hermit. But I didn’t want to be one anymore—I wanted to spend more time with her from now on. With Jungkook, too.

“You look so pretty with your new hair,” Minyun said, sweetly, leaning back on her sock-clad heels in her Louis Vuitton slides, wrapping her arm around her knees like I did around my chest last night, and I inhaled her compliment along with the drag of her cigarette. “We’re twins now.”

I had become such a fragile egg shell that her words multiplied in me as they settled in my lungs, bursting and imbuing me with pigments of confidence. And I beamed through my tears, a light protruding through clouds, as I exhaled the smoke.

It felt as natural as breathing—to claim her cigarettes and make them a thing of my own.

In place of Grookey.

It’s what Jungkook spots first, instead of my hair, once he senses my presence and lifts his head, standing up to his feet, towering over me. And he must’ve been waiting for a long time because his scolding words are flung out first before anything else.

“Where have you been? Do you know how scared I was? I called you up. I rang your doorbell and you wouldn’t answer. All day.”

I take a long drag just to stabilize myself, gratitude unfolding in my sternum for the way he isn’t manly.

He’s merely caring.

Hovering above me, moving his arms in my proximity, features stern in his soft manner, and yet I’m not threatened by my fear because I know him, because I trust him. Trust that everything about him is securely soft and boy-like, round and endearing—even when he raises his voice a little at me.

Minjun and I took another bottle of rosé to her balcony that we finished by passing it to each other and smoking like there was no tomorrow, so the liters of the nectar that flit in my bloodstream elevate how I see him and my body is naturally inclined to do something I normally wouldn’t do.

And much to Jungkook’s surprise and a little bit to his dismay, I listen to that hushed tone of my heart and obey it—discovering that it is an aid and nothing else.

“Since when do you—”

I silence his stupid, yet valid question by wrapping my arms around his neck, careful not to nip his skin with the hot prickle of the cigarette. Its orange tip envelops us in a soft glow in the middle of the darkening evening, the smoke surrounding us like a protection ring. It takes three beats of my heart—which in reality must be his and surely not mine considering the numbness that has descended, fully, in me—for his arms to move and swathe me in complete safety.

He’s rescuing me, like Minyun did. Bouncing off of her and finishing the job, without knowing a thing about it.

We become one, singular form of a penumbra, dressed as we are in this unlit shade. Jungkook with his cargos and baggy sweatshirt; me with my tracksuit that’s too big for me. His neck is cold and I scatter a little bit of my warmth upon that skin, regretful that he waited for me this long because of my foolish forgetfulness.

My dearest boy best friend.

I squeeze him harder and Jungkook buries his nose in my shoulder, fisting the fabric of my hoodie on my back.

And then, he sniffs my hair. Makes a Korean sound of discovery and surprise. Pulls back just to look at me with narrowed, inspecting eyes. Drags me to the nearest street lamp—and I watch his eyelids grow to their original, bulbous size.

Roundie.

He has noticed my hair, at last.

Fluffs it and completely destroys the impeccable blowout that Minyun gave me.

“What the fuck, Jungkook?” I grumble, pushing his hand away, but, like my hoodie, he fists both of my wrists in one hand and sinks the other one into my length, following the diligent curve that Minyun created.

I huff, and the sound is deadened by the devastating words he utters, disappearing into the prickling coldness of the air.

“What did he say to you that made you do this?”

I dwell in silence, my numbed emotions leaden, dented and yet sharp enough that I feel their resurfacing pain.

I look away, untangling my wrists from his hold. Jungkook unclenches his fist, but the ash from my cigarette lands on the back of his hand. I gasp, quick to brush it away, however he’s quicker. Doesn’t make a sound in response. Shakes his hand and steals my cigarette, puffing on it.

My mouth parts. Shock strangles me.

He smokes?

Jungkook’s seriousness droops as he chuckles, dryly, at my reaction. He takes a step back, slides a hand in the pocket of his pants, coalesces into the shadows of the early blooming night.

“I didn’t know you smoked either,” he says, smiling in that lopsided way of his, a large dent in his cheek. And it feels as though I’m getting to know my best friend for the first time. What else is he hiding? What does he do, in utmost normalcy, when he’s not with me?

He dips his chin to look at the cigarette before he flicks his thumb across its ivory butt. The ashy particles fly to the rocky ground in tandem with his smile. And his mind travels back to this morning’s misfortune, as rapid as a rocket shooting up beyond the clouds.

“I’m not giving this to you until you tell me what he said. The last time you did something to your hair like this was when you left that good-for-nothing son of a bitch.”

A fleck of memory appears before my eyes. Me dousing my hair in black dye with my own hands while Jungkook stood by; him putting my star clips in my no longer virgin strands to distract my tears, me sliding the same ones into his, making a middle part and laughing until my stomach hurt. He had healed me by just being with me, not expecting words, not expecting any explanations.

Him asking me for them has a great meaning, a certain hastiness that I know full well has a stabbing pain, and I feel his fear, instead of mine. Understand, all of a sudden, why he waited for so long.

And I put him first, just so that emotion unclenches its fist from him. Nod my head to let him know that I’ll tell him, bare my heart for him.

I walk backwards and sit down on the stony stairs. Jungkook joins me, right beside me. Takes a long drag of the cigarette as if to prepare himself for what I’m about to share with him—and I need the same smoky courage. I take it from him, puff on it and give it back to him. He gives me a gentle smile and I recognize the reason behind it.

A new form of bonding settles between us.

I reciprocate the smile and gather my words in the brief silence. The wind helps me as it breezes through my hair, fondles my face ever so gently and when I lift my chin at its attention, my eyes stumble across the full moon.

I breathe in its pristine energy. Let my lungs be full of its beams—and let it cleanse me, thoroughly.

Jungkook’s patience helps me, too, as he quietly finishes the cigarette, stubbing it out on the step. Ready to listen.

And so I begin.

“I invited him upstairs because I wanted to,” I start and realize that I have to come forth with the truth. Deem that he deserves to know. I look inward, quickly, and try to detect any obstacles in me—but I find myself empty, cleansed, a dried fountain with no drops of water, yet I am free. With the alcohol still trickling in my bloodstream. “I didn’t feel sick. That was a lie.” I flick my eyes to his reaction, catch him widening his eyes and parting his mouth and I decide it’s time for another cigarette. I pull one for him and myself, lighting it up for the both of us. “I didn’t want you to know that I got triggered. I’m sorry for that.”

Jungkook blows the smoke in the other direction, away from my face. He furrows his brows in pity as he leans his elbows on his outstretched knees.

I expect him to yell at me… but he does the exact opposite, soothing me down to the marrow of my bone.

“Triggered? How?” he asks, his voice so muted that I barely hear it, lips pursed in that eternal pout of his and mine mirror it, naturally. I appreciate his gentleness so much that I lean the side of my head against his shoulder. And he leans his against the top of mine.

“I guess I wanted to be alone when I left the room and I found Hobi at the end of the hall. I sat with him for a little while and when he started talking, I realized he was drunk and my body gave up on me. I dissociated like I used to after the breakup. I thought I was better, that I healed from it, but it’s been a long since I was in the company of men, you know? I didn’t want to disappoint you, especially when I’d promised you that it wasn’t happening to me anymore.”

I hear him take a strong puff and I reflect him, doing the same. Then, he sighs and extends his legs, his back rounding forward. I watch the smoke make patterns in the night-tinged air and I breathe differently, now that I’ve pulled the skeleton out of the closet. And even though my emotions are numb, my softness deepens when Jungkook takes the bony creature into his arms and begins to dance with it.

“You could never disappoint me,” he whispers, his words the music for the dance, and I wrap my fingers around his clothed forearm, just holding him there, needing it. “You should’ve told me. Did you think I would tell you off for it? Of course not, you silly goose.”

I chortle, and the smoke comes out in staccatos that are guided by my tender laughter. And he melts it with his following words.

“How can I help you? Should I get you a therapist? I don’t want you to take meds for it…” he trails off, clicking his tongue and fishing out his phone from his pocket. His fingers move on the keyboard of his screen and the letters I read fracture my heart and glue it back together all the same. “Grounding techniques. Breathing slowly while counting. Different sounds, walking barefoot, blanket, ice cube or cold water—”

My mouth opens before my brain registers what my weakened heart longs to say.

“Yoongi splashed cold water on my face and neck and that brought me back,” I spew out, tiny tears lining my vision at the memory, at the feel of his cold, solid hands, at the sight of his wide, fearful eyes that relaxed when he realized that I was back in the present times. “He saved me.”

I blink them away; I smoke them away.

Jungkook sucks in a breath, clicking on an article about dissociation and scrolling down. “Yoongi and I will be your therapists, then. For free.”

I look away and withdraw from him, twiddling with my fingers. My heart enlarges, yearns for it—yearns to create a link to his beyond the physical bound we have, reach out for him like a child for its father, but my fear of being triggered again, of being afflicted by his pain slaps its arms away from him.

It’s not meant to be—Yoongi is not the one for me because if he were, there wouldn’t be any barrier between us. And with that knowledge, my obsession with him, slowly and painfully, dissipates, leaving my frailty and my willingness to help him, if he’d ever need me, in the hands of God.

But knowing the faces of manliness and ego, Yoongi won’t allow himself to be helped by me. And that bruises me more than the words he flung at me.

Jungkook senses my absence more vividly than I want him to, and his head swivels in my direction, the article momentarily forgotten.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, prodding me, and it’s me who sighs this time.

I take the last drag and gaze at the moon as I speak. “Yoongi can’t help me when he needs help himself.”

The yellowish face of the bulbous planet nods at me and I feel, ever so slightly, at ease, leaning my elbows back on the steps. That is until a lump forms in my throat and, inertly, I ask the feminine luna for her strength, for her resilience, and I ask her to help me become my new self that resembles her so much.

Jungkook locks his phone and stares at me. “What happened this morning?”

And perhaps she does nurture me with what I need through her radiance after all because I don’t hesitate to tell him.

“I wore lingerie to bed that was see-through and when I looked for him and found him crying on my couch, he told me, ‘can you, please, put something fucking on?’ and left,” I unravel, violently, mimicking Yoongi’s coarse morning voice, and Jungkook scoffs, averting his gaze. He sucks hard on the last of his cigarette before throwing it away with the same nerve, shaking his head as he thinks about those poisonous words. Validates me, like Minyun did.

It takes several heartbeats and several more moonbeams puncturing my sternum before he turns back to me.

“Check your phone.”

A wrinkle between my brows. “Why?”

“Just do it.”

Without understanding why he wants me to do that, I comply. I pull out my phone from my purse, the light from the screen bathing me in stark blue. Jungkook chews on his bottom lip as he watches me read my notifications from him, Minyun and Netflix. And when I say nothing, he tilts his head and reads them on his own, only to groan and place it in his hands.

Then, he stares off into the distance.

“What?”

He takes my hand and drags me to my feet. “Come on.”

I yelp and Jungkook yanks me to the patch of grass by the street lamp, kneeling by the gravel. And I can’t speak as he builds a praying altar of rocks, leaves and sticks. I can’t speak when he holds it in place and makes sure it doesn’t collapse, as small and sturdy as it is. And I can’t speak when he adorns it with an abandoned, pink flower petal that he finds nearby. Places it on the top of the last stone, against the flesh of the damp, green leaf that is propped by a petite rock.

And in my silence, once he’s done, he tugs my hand down, sinking me to my knees. Sits back on his folded legs and presses his palms together.

“God, I know that you know I don’t believe in you. My dad probably talks to you a lot about me, so I’m sure you know who I am. I don’t come to you because of me, though. I come to you right now because my friends need you,” Jungkook prays, his voice mellow and subdued, meant for my ears and the ears of God that I myself believe in, but don’t have a relationship with. I settle down into my respect for his bravery and kindness, closing my eyes, and I feel him enveloping his fingers around mine on my lap. My heart thumps and my other hand finds the way to it—I pin my palm to the left side of my chest, cradling those full-blooded strikes, willing the corners of my mouth not to quiver. “My dad says you know everything and right now I really hope that you know what Yoongi went through. I ask you, sincerely, to give him strength to be a better person. To make sure his feet don’t walk backwards but forward with the girl beside me. I also ask you to help her to not dissociate anymore, help her not remember that son of a bitch, sorry—that guy that broke her. And altogether, I ask you to heal them both. Also, make sure Yoongi mans up a little and texts her like I wanted. Or just do something, anything. Give him ideas. Make his balls grow or whatever. Thank you. Sorry for all I did. Amen.”

The tears fall and I can’t halt them, nor do I want to. Lightness floods my chest, my mind, spreads all over my bones, and I breathe out in hiccups. I agree with his prayer by whispering the same ending word and when I glance at Jungkook, I see him meditating, privately, on something on his own.

It inspires me, comforts me and impassions me to do the same.

I flutter my eyes closed and quieten my breathing.

Dear God, if I was wrong and this is for me, allow me to take care of Yoongi. Help us find a way towards each other and cleanse my heart from all the pain.

And then the words spill, my prayer prolonging, and I discern that they don’t root from me, bathed in the glimmer of the moon as they are.

I forgive him and I’m giving him another chance. Give us the opportunity to better our actions and communicate our pains. Give us the strength to do so. Give us the words. Give us peace of mind and clarity. Thank you. Amen.

My tears have dried by the time I’m finished with my internal prayer. Jungkook has patiently waited the whole time, holding my hand, and he gives me the lovingest, most wholesome smile I’ve ever received in my life when I face him. He kisses my knuckles and I feel, strongly, that it seals our prayers.

Helping me stand, it’s him who hugs me this time around. I bury my face in his chest, fisting the back of his sweatshirt like he did to me when I arrived. We remain like this, underneath the lenitive moonlight and the merciful eye of God that I sense upon us. And I know, in the abyss of my weakened heart, that I shall never forget about this moment.

“Did you also feel that lightness in your chest?” Jungkook asks onto my hair, and I nod, too lost in my brimming, alive emotions—no longer numb, but erupting in tender colors—to answer. Love, thankfulness, delicate joy and that persisting lightness.

Grabbing my shoulders, he breaks the hug and grins down at me. He glows underneath that street lamp, a pure whiteness lining his form, the tiny twinkling freckles of stars scattering upon his skin and I love him.

I love my best friend.

And the more I look at him, the more I’m reminded of the way I put the star clips in his hair and I think it would only be right if he were to wear them right now.

I link my arm around his.

“Let’s go inside.”

The moonlight shone upon our way, ascertaining that we didn’t stumble. Reached a standstill and formed a ring around us when we stopped by the door to my apartment building and had another cigarette together, this time another shared one because I felt as though I had inhaled too much smoke throughout the day.

The stars poked at my back in our silence, encouraging me to break it, and I did—once it was my turn to puff. I thanked him, earnestly, for the prayer, showed him my nails embellished with little silver crosses, ones he gaped at with utmost fascination before it all spurred something in him enough for him to share with me what went down earlier in the morning after Yoongi left my apartment.

Crestfallen Yoongi, drenched from the rain, murky, cloud-bearing; the very one I know. Jungkook had to, essentially, extricate him from the force of his innermost downpour, and I waded through the torrent with each information he provided me.

He was profoundly regretful and made a fool out of himself by choking at the sound of my name—something that made my cheeks ignite with coy flattery and my fingertips to tingle. The knowledge that he rued his actions wove through my prayer and quelled me, my heart and my mind, until there was no ounce of ache that bothered me.

I entered a state of sobriety, plopping down onto my couch with a small basket of hair ties and clips. Jungkook wasn’t really cognizant of what I was doing as he focused on telling the story, describing, in his teasing manner, the way Yoongi looked like while he spoke of me. The way his cheeks flushed and light burst in his eyes. He was so preoccupied with the task that he didn’t flinch when I brushed his hair with my Kuromi tangle teezer, nor when I put up his hair in two pigtail buns and secured them with matching, violet Kuromi hair ties.

His hair felt brittle in my fingers from all the bleach the stylist used on his hair. Briefly, I remembered the way he specifically asked her if there was a drugstore alternative to the professional dye and he went to buy it for me that very day and we splattered it on together, with him choosing the strand, of course. I made a mental note to talk about his hair with him later.

I grew hot when he shifted to the part, where he read to him the message I sent for him. I had cleaned the whole apartment in effort to rid myself of the residue of my trigger, but my care for him remained because I understood where he came from. What I hadn’t known was that after listening to my heart and typing out the message, I would get tormented by my mind so viciously that I had to seek my girl best friend. My care for him sank to the bottom of me and the offense I felt resurfaced, swallowing me whole.

To know, in the present time, that Yoongi thought it too good to be true, grew smaller when Jungkook began to tell him off, washes it all out and I am a brand new canvas.

I take off my hoodie, aflame.

“He really thought about what I said to him and he even put your number in his phone. I visibly saw him opening a new text message and typing something,” Jungkook says, exasperated, and I have to chuckle to myself—he looks so damn adorable with the two minty buns, but he’s still missing those clips. I search for them in my basket, reveling in that fire of his, which his words are permeated with, the heat stifling me. “I thought he sent it to you. I didn’t see him do it because I got a call from Namjoon, asking where we were. We had a meeting right after—and that’s also something I need to talk to you about.”

My ears perk up and I freeze with the clips in my hands.

The smile Jungkook gives me this time is cheerless.

The sweat that coats me morphs into a layer of iciness.

“We’re going on tour abroad next month,” he imparts and my heart closes. I disintegrate, the clips falling out of my hands. And the stars blanketing the heavens outside must do the same, plummeting to the ground, conjointly, with me. “We were supposed to have another concert tonight, a secret one that would be made into a docuseries, but then America fucking called.”

That means no hanging out with Jungkook, no star clips; no seeing Yoongi and leaving things as they are—unfinished and still aching on his part.

And that leaves me alone with my thoughts.

I pout, my heart dead silent.

“When will you be back?”

Jungkook gathers the fallen clips and sets them down upon my open, vulnerable palms. Manages to warm them up in that brief exchange.

“There aren’t many tour dates. I’ll be back before—”

My phone pings in the kitchen.

And before I can breathe, Jungkook scurries to his feet and flees.

Grabs my phone and holds it in front of my face, so the detector can unlock what the notification hides. And once it does and his eyes sweep over the lettering multiple times, he squeals. Springs. Beams like the warmest star he is, personified firelight. And I’m more happy that he’s happy than I’m happy about the fact Yoongi has done something.

For me.

Jungkook slides the phone into my clammy hand and I let out a little breath. Instagram has notified me that a certain person that goes by the name agustd liked my post. I smirk, cupping my face, while I click on the notification to see what exactly he liked. Jungkook sits beside me and looks over, laughing, vehemently, through his nose before he starts clapping.

My stomach jumps, stirring my butterflies awake.

I’m wearing a knitted set in the picture, nearly pellucid with how stretched out and purposefully ripped the fabric is, and I’m sat on my vanity table in my room with my arched back facing the mirror, my long black hair obscuring most of the sheerness of my spine.

Is that a truce? Liking a picture where I’m wearing something so akin to the slip that broke us this morning? If he did, then that’s an intelligent move in the chessboard of all toxicity.

And I like it.

I blush, profusely. But then another notification rings through my living room and Jungkook stills beside me. We share a look, both of our mouths parted, before he steals my phone, though I slap his back and retrieve it from his grasp, the shifting causing the message to get opened.

I run a hand down my face. “You clicked on it and now he can see I’ve read it, Jungkook.”

He merely laughs. “So what? Read it.”

I groan, tipping my chin, focusing my gaze on the letters, and my heart thrashes in my ribcage. And their meaning propels it to fly on the wings of my butterflies.

The letters tremble in tandem with my hand as I read them.

“I’m sorry for my behavior this morning, you didn’t deserve that. I hope you allow me to make it up to you as best as I can. Car drive tomorrow at 8 PM? Food’s on me, you just bring your playlist, moon kitty. And your sneakers. Yoongi. Jungkook gave me your number.”

My heart stops mid-flight. And I don’t see Jungkook’s eyes abounding in the glow of the stars. Neither do I hear his laughter and his praises for Yoongi because I walk backwards into myself.

Bring your sneakers.

I see myself getting hit for wearing heels. I don’t feel the pain, but I have a glimpse of the bruise forming on my cheek, a patch of red and purple staining me for weeks only because I wanted to feel pretty and feminine on our date night. And before Jungkook’s voice can get to me, the echo of Ji-hoon’s command fans out in me.

You won’t dress like a slut when you’re with me. Take them off. That dress, too. And wear your sneakers.

I was forced to wear jeans and Nike’s to a fancy restaurant while he sported nice pants and a polo. And much to his dismay, and later to mine as well, I still received stares and smiles. From men and women alike.

The memory splinters at the sound of Jungkook’s voice. And I perceive that it’s just that.

A memory.

I didn’t dissociate.

And vulnerability clutches me so tightly that I shrivel and don’t think before I fold myself into Jungkook, hugging him until the memory completely evaporates.

Jungkook pets my head as I bury it deeper into his chest. “What’s wrong?”

“Just a memory,” I heave, blinking rapidly, and Jungkook holds me to him, sifting his fingers through my hair.

“Are you okay?” he murmurs, continuing with the movement that intersperses mollification all over my being, and I nod.

As long as I have my best friend, I will be okay.

“It happened this morning, too,” I admit, unafraid, and Jungkook stills for a moment. “When Yoongi got up from this couch, I thought I was gonna get hit again. And now when I read that he wants me to wear sneakers, I remembered the way Ji-hoon hit me because I wore heels that one time. But it wasn’t so bad. I didn’t dissociate. Your prayer helped.”

Jungkook curls around me and holds me tighter, putting me back together, and I let him.

I let him because there’s nothing else for me to do.

There’s no one else for me.

“He’s not here anymore. He’s not in your life. I broke his leg, remember? He can’t walk back into your life.”

It’s the only memory, where he’s present, that brings me pleasure: Jungkook finding out I was a victim of domestic abuse and chasing him all over the city until he yanked him by the back of his shirt and beat him until he was unrecognizable. He broke his leg by purposefully driving over it with his motorcycle upon leaving, considering the deed done.

“Every time your bad memories come back to haunt you, remember this one,” Jungkook advises and I pleat his words, stuffing them somewhere inside my sternum, where I can return to them and remember them like he said. Use them as a weapon.

Something tells me that now I shall need it more than I ever have before.

“Yoongi isn’t like him, I promise,” he continues, seeping his boyish warmth into my skin as he cups my face and makes me look at him. I feel as though I have run a marathon with the way I breathe spasmodically and Jungkook sees me, composes me by leading me to take deep breaths that subdue my nerves. “I regretted letting him take you home but for a far different reason. Underneath all that pain is a good person. A romantic that has lost his hope, but if there’s anything I can depend on, it’s the fact that Yoongi will find what he’s lost. And he’s halfway there. If he wasn’t, he wouldn’t have texted you.”

I ponder his words, my heart collecting all those stars that have plummeted from the heavens, and, internally, I use their light to help me comprehend the deeper meaning behind his words. A romantic that has lost his hope. I wonder what meadow of agony he walked through—and I wonder how much it would devastate me if I ever were permitted to place my bare feet upon his footprints on that flowery soil.

“You can trust him because I trust him.”

I slide the star clips beneath the space buns I twisted his hair in and I nod.

“Let’s text him back.”

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alphabetboyluvr · 1 year ago

Text

HUSH | MYG - ONE

pairing: rockstar!yoongi x female reader | mutual disdain - lovers (but also strangers - lovers? kinda?)

premise: in which you work for your brothers band by day and accidentally anonymously sext his bandmate on the regular by night! whoops !!

wc: 17.5k

for more details, pls see the master list (x)

hush is written in two formats: messaging transcripts and my regular writing style

warnings: we're sexting, straight off the bat!! love that for our hush couple!! allusions to sending nudes, mentions of blueballing lmao, sex toys, general masturbation malarky, mentions of ass play <33, they video call during finales (back camera only!!!), yoongi has a massive cock, like im talking humongous, so BIG (and factually accurate!!) they're switchy aka he tries dom and she's too much of a brat that he folds, he is whiney and needy and obsessed, and she enjoys that! you get to fill in the gaps as if you're really sexting him, lucky you <33 there's also exactly (1) near foot job, a needy jk, (1) banana milk mention, a playfight, miscommunication, a mysterious night that will never be mentioned in conversation. oh yeah and yoongi and you don't realise you're sexting one another ! oops!!!! yoongi is uncircumcised cause ik some people care about that?? just my preference when writing, imagine what u like! no *actual* smut in this one... just... much sexting!

before you read: please read these for a little context on the story - the app (x) and the band (x)

minors dni!!!

New Hush Crush in your Secret Circle! D4m0cl3s

10:43PM

D4m0cl3s: hey, stranger

Cl3m3ntin3: well hello there how are you??

D4m0cl3s: i'm all good. yourself?

Cl3m3ntin3: yeah, yeah, im all good just tryna figure out this damn app, lmao

D4m0cl3s: you new around these parts?

Cl3m3ntin3: i am indeed you've taken my secret circle virginity lucky you x

D4m0cl3s: oh shit well, i am honoured i can be your guide to all things hush x

Cl3m3ntin3: oh, i seeeeee an expert, are we? ;)

D4m0cl3s: just realised how tragic it is to be a self-proclaimed dating app expert, so... no not an expert just.... well versed?

Cl3m3ntin3: hahaha sureeee so, tell me, mr hush expert, how do these conversations usually go

D4m0cl3s: okay, 1: not an expert and 2: just general chit chat get an idea of what you're both looking for stuff like that

Cl3m3ntin3: 1: keep telling yourself that, babe and 2: what are you looking for?

D4m0cl3s: 1: calling me babe, already? score. 2: a girl who calls me babe.

Cl3m3ntin3: looks like my work here is done, then ;) seeeeeeya x

D4m0cl3s: no don't go stay i think we'll get along tell me what you're looking for

Cl3m3ntin3: a man who begs for my attention so looks like your work here is done, too ;)

D4m0cl3s: well, aren't we just a match made in heaven?

Cl3m3ntin3: hell* definitely a match made in hell

D4m0cl3s: you a sinner?

Cl3m3ntin3: would you like me to be?

D4m0cl3s: tempting... but no

Cl3m3ntin3: shame maybe we are after different things after all

D4m0cl3s: woaaah, i never said that i was just trying to be a gentleman take things slow be respectful

Cl3m3ntin3: it's anonymous, babe i didn't sign up for hush looking to be wined and dined or to be treated like a lady quite the opposite, actually so you don't need to worry about tarnishing your reputation, or whatever your secrets are safe with me ;)

D4m0cl3s: 1. i couldn't give a shit about my reputation and 2. it's just that people are on this app for different reasons don't wanna assume everyone is after the same thing

Cl3m3ntin3: 1. untouchable, are you? and 2. well, im pretty sure you know what i'm here for and if it's not abundantly obvious: nothing serious. it's late, and i'm bored. what's a girl to do in those kinds of situations? play all alone? boringgg. my cards are on the table, damocles you're up.

D4m0cl3s: untouchable...something like that and fine if you really wanna know i'm not looking for a girl to take home to my mother

Cl3m3ntin3: good mothers don't tend to like me all that much

D4m0cl3s: no?

Cl3m3ntin3: nah fathers on the other hand? fucking love me

D4m0cl3s: and you wonder why the mothers hate you?

Cl3m3ntin3: oh, no im fully aware it's because im the only thing that can get their husbands' perpetually flaccid cocks hard :)

D4m0cl3s: jesus christ you really are built for sin, aren't you?

Cl3m3ntin3: uh-huh :) fancy a dance with the devil?

D4m0cl3s: not tonight but you've got me interested

Cl3m3ntin3: </3 can't believe you're blue balling me

D4m0cl3s: trust me im blue balling myself i've got an early schedule in the morning can't stay up all night entertaining some girl on a fucking app ;)

Cl3m3ntin3: okay 1: ouch, if anyone was doing the entertaining, it would be me and 2: prove it

D4m0cl3s: prove it?

Cl3m3ntin3: uh-huh prove that you're blue balling yourself

D4m0cl3s: again, jesus christ you are something else

Cl3m3ntin3: thank you :D now... proof

D4m0cl3s: say please

Cl3m3ntin3: you want me to get down on my knees, too?

D4m0cl3s: would be appreciated

Cl3m3ntin3: fine

D4m0cl3s: watch your attitude, clementine

Cl3m3ntin3: sighhh hate you for this already >:( pretty please could you show me your cock so i know you're hard and not just lying <;33

D4m0cl3s: see, that wasn't so hard, was it? good girl

D4m0cl3s added new media to the chat!

Cl3m3ntin3: holy shit

D4m0cl3s: i might keep secrets, but i never lie let's talk tomorrow, alright?

Cl3m3ntin3: noted and tomorrow for sure sweet dreams, damocles x

D4m0cl3s: night night, clementine x

[3 Months Later] KSPO DOME Seoul, South Korea

♪ // Hush - The Marías

"You'll choke if you're not careful – and how many times do I need to tell you? Put that damn phone away!"

If Park Jimin wasn't so warm in his tone with you—effervescent in his kindness, bubbling over like lightly shaken soda—you'd tell him to kiss your ass.

He stands in the doorway, a pretty smile on his plump lips. There's something about him—his eyes, you think—that subvert all his softness. Makes him quite the menace. If you hadn't been there to witness his high-school bowl cut era, you never would believed it had happened. He's too cool. It transcends his current being. Is effortless.

In all black, a pair of Chelsea boots soundtrack his arrival no matter where he is. A little scuffed, he's in need of a new pair—but they'll be a post-show bonus treat. From Jimin, to Jimin. Congratulations on a job well done.

With a subtle roll of your eyes, you swallow down the blueberry you'd been holding between your teeth in a dingy backroom of Seoul's KSPO Dome—the venue of choice for The Scouts' final hometown show. The brickwork remains exposed, grey concrete blocks a dull backdrop for the catering tables.

"Sorry mum," you banter, even though you really shouldn't. There's a glint to your eyes beneath the awkward spotlighting that really isn't preferable for the buffet-style display behind you. Fruits, snacks, it's not a bad spread—but it's got nothing on the rider you know The Scouts ask for ahead of every show.

But why shouldn't they? What the boys want, the boys get – and they've worked damn hard to get it.

He nods towards the lanyard around your neck and reminds you of this, then holds up his.

Park Jimin, it reads. Senior Tour Manager.

"Not on the clock, trouble. I'm still your boss."

"And don't I know it," you offer him a smile, still not a huge fan of the dynamic the pair of you portray at work.

You've known Jimin since the tooth fairy was leaving coins under his pillow. It's sorta hard to take him seriously when you've experienced as much life together as you have.

The way he groans when you reach for yet another blueberry is testament to the friendship you share; the kind of found siblings written about in books but rarely found in reality. There's a sanctity there. He's got your back, and he knows you'll always pick up the slack when he needs you to.

For all your difficulties in the short-term, he knows you pull it out of the bag come the time results are needed.

Knocking the blueberry into your mouth with a grin, you use your tongue to toss it to your back teeth. It's a teeny tiny little fruit. You're pretty sure you could swallow it whole without repercussion.

In fact, the reason you were so engrossed in your phone is because you were about to start a discussion with a... friend about something else you could swallow, instead – but you won't tell Jimin that. He'd throw up, probably, and then it'd be your job to clean it up.

"Yeah, yeah," you nod, locking your phone and tucking it into your back pocket. "Sorry boss. Where do you need me?"

He narrows his eyes at your sarcastic use of formalities, but knows when to pick his battles with you. Instead, he knocks his head to the side and heads for the doorway, indicating for you to follow suit.

Just like he knows when to pick his battles with you, you also know when to pick yours with him.

"You've a job that people would likely kill for," he ribs, not really minding all that much. It's downtime between the off-stage rush, so there really isn't all that much to be doing—but you could at least pretend to make it look like you're working your ass off. "But you're too busy on your bloody phone. Head to hair and make-up. The next VCR segment is smaller so I need you in position pronto."

"Sure, sure," you nod like a bobbing head figurine, stealing a handful of blueberries from the catering table and heading on your way.

Jimin watches on with a curious sense of bewilderment. You're the best runner they have, by quite some margin, but also seemingly the one that's least eager to please—and by doing so, they seem to like you even more. It's an odd paradox, but it is one that you use to your advantage. Play a little dumb; wow them all when you continually and quite impressively exceed their expectations. Work smarter, not harder.

It's a work ethic that runs in the family. They shouldn't be surprised by it, not really.

The corridor you head down is flanked by sterile white lights. The only thing that's brighter are the faux smiles of entertainment execs and slimy media men, who are all after their fifteen minutes of favour—because it's not fame they'll get by rubbing shoulders with the boys on stage; it's a boost up. Something to talk big about in board room meetings.

A humble brag; a subtle flex, that is neither humble nor subtle.

Your lanyard taps against the buckle of your belt as you jog towards the stage. A cute little pat-pat-pat and jingle of keys from your beltloop soundtracks it, which you're thankful for. It covers the heavy breathing.

Just shy of the staircase leading up to the platform, which is almost shaking from the exertion of the performers on it, you hanger left into the room beside the dressing room.

While the dressing room is a dingy, theatrical maximalist's dream, the make-up department has a shell for a room. Bright white lights are overhead, to make sure the boys look amazing—which they always do regardless. Personally, you think this is all overkill. Takes away some of the authenticity. People swoon for The Scouts and the fact they're walking, talking hot messes. When the 'mess' is carefully applied with tiny brushes and kept in place with setting spray, it just doesn't hit the same.

Still, the fans are none the wiser, so who cares? Let them think Jeon Jungkook has flawless skin after an all-night bender.

Annoyingly, he normally does – but that's beyond the point.

"Here she is," Jinyu grins as you walk through the door with a little huff, immediately picking up a setlist by the door to fan your face.

Ethereal as usual, hair pulled back with a claw clip and a grown-out fringe framing her delicate features, Jinyu's mask pulled down to rest beneath her chin. A make-up brush is tucked behind her ear and half a dozen hair grips are biting onto the sleeve of her shirt, ready for the rush that will come with the next VCR break.

At least one of you is, you think.

She always is, though. Best of the bunch, she's the senior make-up artist, and has an example to lead by.

The rest of the make-up artists sit together in the far corner, nattering amongst themselves with far more animation than their hushed tones should really allow for. It's not an uncommon occurrence.

They like to pretend that they don't want anyone to know their business, but you've heard it all.

You could share, in quite some detail, how Jungkook likes to look at his regular make-up artist's lips whenever she's applying balm to his.

Apparently, the tension is 'off the charts', but he's 'too shy to do anything'. Always asks for balm, even when he doesn't need it. Or so she says.

You roll your eyes whenever you hear her brag about it, 'cause you've also heard the conversations that the boys have had behind closed doors. You know that if Jungkook is gonna be after any of the make-up artists, it's Jinyu—but the ring on her fourth finger and the toddler she sometimes brings to work on the quiet days is enough for him to stay away.

The lifestyles lived by The Scouts wouldn't allow for any of them to be playing 'Daddy'—though the girls who've squeezed into their tour bus bunks would probably beg to differ.

It's not just Jungkook who they like to gossip about—although he is the current flavour of the month, ever since he got that bloody lip ring.

In all honesty, you've heard so much shite about all five members that it's a miracle the girls still have jobs.

A new addition to the team since the overwhelming success of the last album run, the record label are keen on The Scouts keeping up their appearances. Gone are the days of sleeping in eyeliner and waking up with panda eyes—now it's carefully placed with precision beneath their tired lashlines, bloodshot eyes still bleary from the night before.

According to the last make-up room rumour mill, Tae is the type to send a late-night text to a handful of girls at once, just to see who bites (of which they all do, of course), and Yoongi is the type to sit silently in the make-up chair, only to make some absurdly unhinged comment as he leaves for the stage.

It's what they're talking about as you and Jinyu exchange glances with comically raised brows and wide eyes.

"Like, the whole time, he must have just been sat there, thinking about it," one of them swoons. "Didn't say a single word, and then just said 'your perfume smells nice, today,' as he was leaving."

The way they giggle makes your skin crawl. It's like they're constantly trying to one-up one another, using the men they work for as tools to do so – and you can't really blame them. As much as you may hate it, it's a man's world, especially in this industry. If you've gotta climb a few greasy poles to reach the top, then more power to those who choose to do so.

"He definitely spent the whole time thinking about it."

"What perfume are you wearing? I wouldn't mind him saying that to me..."

"God, he's such a dream boat."

"Something about him lately is just... ugh, off the charts. We need to stop styling his hair like that. It's too good."

You don't mean to be so judgemental – you've got a pair of eyes. Know exactly why they insist on giggling about their delusions.

Thing is, you can deal with the Jungkook gossip. Tae, Yoongi, Namjoon – whatever.

It's when they start talking about Jin and fail to hide the fact they're doing so that you're reminded of exactly why it grinds your gears so much.

In fact, quite frankly, you've a desire to pick up one of Jinyu's rattail combs and shove it into your ear. Would hope it'd impale your brain. You're not really sure how deep you'd have to go, but it would beat hearing them fawn over your older brother.

You've heard things being said about his hands that no younger sister should ever have to. Quite repulsive, actually.

Instead, you grimace, trying to gain back your breath following your sprint (of which Jimin would call a leisurely pace) up the corridor.

"Why does catering have to be so far from the dressing room?!"

Jinyu watches on with great amusement as you rest your hands on your knees, bending as if you've just run a 10k. Dramatics run in the family, or so it would seem.

"I dunno, babe," Jinyu purrs, her smile present just like it always is, voice a little extra loud to drown out the noise of the witches gathered in the corner. "Why was my favourite runner over in catering in the first place?"

You let your eyes narrow, her teasing grin only serving as a reminder that you really should know better than to keep on going back to the blueberry stash. It's not like you aren't allowed them. They'd all go to waste otherwise, so if anything, you're snacking on behalf of the company.

"You couldda just had them call one of the other runners back," you pout, knowing that it never would have been the case. She likes to make you work a little bit harder than the others, 'cause she knows you feel like you have more to prove.

Jinyu laughs, and passes you some hair grips to hook onto your sleeves for later. "You're the one who said you wanted to establish yourself! What was it you said at the start of these shows?"

You drop down onto the sofa next to her makeup station, tucking your legs up on the seat. The vibration of the music on stage pours through the walls at such a volume you're surprised you can even sustain a conversation.

"I'm gonna show them," Jinyu imitates with far more dramatic flair than you think is really necessary—but it is accurate. "I'll prove to them all that nepotism had nothing to do with me getting hired. Who, me?" She gasps."The baby sister of our very own World Wide Handsome? Hired because my brother pulled some strings? Never!"

"Fuck off," you laugh, tossing one of the sofa pillows towards her—but she catches it with ease because of course she does. Jinyu is everything you could ever aspire to be, hand-eye coordination included. The girls in the corner hush their conversation and begin to take an interest in your conversation. You ignore them, shrugging as you say, "It's not like I have a first-class degree in stage management or anything like that."

Sure, you have the qualifications—but you also aren't stupid. You know that the job is a favour amongst family. The job market these days is non-existent and while being Jin's sibling had afforded you a follower count worthy of an influencer, you need a purpose in life. It's no coincidence that you both showed an interest in the music industry—he's just far better suited to the performance side of it.

It would have been foolish to turn down the opportunity when Jin had mentioned it at a family dinner.

You're low-level, just a runner for now, but it's nice to be somewhere in which people don't give a shit about your famous brother. To most people here, he's a coworker, a colleague.

Outside of work, your entire personality to anyone you first meet is apparently being related to him. In all honestly, it's the same even in a professional capacity. Had started lying on your resume about your name, just so he wasn't the topic of conversation for all of your job interviews.

Remarkably, this is the only job that hasn't cared about him being your brother.

"Whatever you say. That's our cue. Off your arse," Jinyu says, her demeanour switching as the sound of the final chorus begins to simmer down. You don't need to be told twice, getting to your feet and into position beside her. "Can you be my right hand?"

♪ // Only Angel - Harry Styles

"Sure," you nod, expecting nothing less. It's not much, just putting some hair grips in place while she touches up their stage makeup, and switching out brushes as and when she needs them. Just enough to be helpful without getting in her way.

The girls in the corner follow suit, standing behind their chairs, eager to see the men in all of their sweaty, worn-out glory. They've made no secret of their admiration, which is why Jinyu is such a breath of fresh air. A fair few years older than the boys, she's happily married and doesn't care to swoon over them.

Like a force of nature, The Scouts rumble into the room - lips ajar, chest heaving, hair damp with sweat.

Jungkook is first, slamming his body down into one of the chairs, in dire need of something other than the piss-warm beer he's got up on stage. Tossing him a bottle of water from the countertop behind you, he catches it with ease. Smirks. Looks at you with all the adrenaline he's stolen from the eyes of the fans that adore him. Legs wide, bottle undone with one hand, there's a challenge to his gaze. Performing is a fuckin' drug to Jeon Jungkook - you just wish he didn't keep such a fucked-out look on that pretty face of his whenever he finishes.

So yeah, maybe you do get why the girls chitchat in the way that they do.

The rest of the band follow in, equally trashed, in the best possible way. Taehyung's shirt has miraculously lost all of its buttons, and Namjoon's T-shirt is now slung around his shoulders like a towel. His hair drips with sweat, arms swollen from the exertion of the last few days of shows.

Behind them, Yoongi strolls with an air of arrogance he carries off ever so well. Indifferent. Just as covered in sweat, but without the entire body exhaustion the other Scouts are displaying. He's too cool for his own good. Doesn't look at you. Looks right through you. Asshole.

And then finally, presumably because he was too busy flirting with the audience, the Scout Leader himself makes his grand entrance. Plastic cup in hand, he's nursing a Jack and Coke. Doesn't see the point in all this make-up malarky, when he knows he's just gonna sweat it off anyway. Would much rather actually take this time to recharge, even if just for a second. Thought that adding VCR's to shows would allow them more time for that, and is sorely disappointed by the reality of it.

"Fucking hell, has it been raining?" You deadpan when he slinks down into the chair opposite you and Jinyu. "Y'know, you should get some of those sweat-reduction botox injections. Would work wonders."

He looks at you with disdain that clearly tells you to fuck off. He stays silent. Kicks your shin, instead. You kick him right back.

"I swear the pair of you are worse than my two-year-old," Jinyu sighs as she drapes a towel around Jin's shoulders.

"Someone needs to humble him," you shrug.

"Someone needs to fire you," he says right back, not realising that Jinyu had passed you her hair mister, earning himself a spritz of water to the face.

Effective immediately, your hair mister privileges are taken away. Jinyu's pleasant smile looks almost stern as she takes it, putting it down on the dressing table with a thud.

"We've got three minutes," she reminds you.

"Sorry boss," you quip, not wanting her to actually get pissed off at you. There are certain liberties you can take, but you're supposed to be helping her, not a hindrance.

There's subdued energy in the room now that the boys have settled, not wanting to waste their fuel anywhere other than the stage. As you push grips into Jin's hair, ready for hairspray, you watch the room in the mirror view.

Taehyung is on his phone, not paying any attention to what's going on, his makeup artist working silently. Jungkook is patting down his own face with powder while his stylist teases his hair just right.

You look at him for a little too long, his eyes coming to meet yours in the mirror. Despite the pitch-black darkness of his irises, there's a lightness in his gaze—one that has your skin feeling all prickly and hot, eyes darting back down to Jin's hair.

You think you can hear him laughing to himself.

It's confirmed when Jimin waltzes into the room, clipboard in hand and asks, "What's got you giggling, Kook?"

He lies, and says he's thinking about his dog, Bam, just to save you from embarrassment.

You glance back up to where his eyes are already waiting for yours, brows lifted as he smirks. You make vague shapes with your mouth as if you're telling him to 'fuck off,' which only serves to make him laugh again, a little harder this time. He keeps it quiet, shoulders bobbing up and down, his smile magnetic.

It's all in good fun. There's been a running joke for years now that you'll date Jungkook just to piss off Jin.

You already know his make-up artist will twist that moment to her own liking, making up some bullshit about him laughing with her, but it's barely worth your energy.

Beside him, Jimin vies for attention from Yoongi, who looks like he's in need of a good nap.

There's a sheen to his skin, sweat dripping down his neck thanks to his make-up artists failing to grab him a towel. You call for Jimin's attention, and once you have it, you chuck him one of the spare towels over your shoulder. He tilts his head in confusion, but when you nod towards Yoongi, he understands.

The towel is passed along, a simple 'hm?' from Yoongi to question where it came from. Jimin nods towards you, and Yoongi takes a second to observe what you're doing. You're not looking at him, because quite frankly, he intimidates you.

He never used to.

In fact, you used to get along quite well—but you're vaguely aware of the fact he doesn't approve of nepotism, and knows that the only reason you secured this job is because of Jin.

It makes you feel a little embarrassed. A little ashamed. None of the other boys seem to care, but it puts you on edge with Yoongi. You try extra hard—be extra diligent—with him. He seems to be the one you seek validation from the most, despite him being the one you interact with the least.

In the corner of the room, Taehyung and Namjoon discuss the next song. A change from yesterday's set, they've been switching up songs so that no one really knows what to expect next. Have to keep things fresh. Keep their names trending. Get those streams. Meet industry targets set by suits with no real understanding of what it means to make art.

It's admirable how much they cram into such little time. Masters of their craft, it's an honour to see them work. It's without a doubt that they've earned their success.

You kind of get why Yoongi is hesitant of you. You feel underqualified, as if you haven't worked hard enough to earn the role you've been given—but you have. You have the credentials. Jin opened the door for you, yes, but you're the one who had the key in the first place.

You're distracted by your thoughts when your phone buzzes in your back pocket. The vibration hums just a little bit longer than any of your other app notifications, so you know exactly what it is. Know who it is.

Kind of.

There's a little bit of bashful shame that washes over your features, fearful someone will hear the buzz and recognise its length—not that anyone would notice the soft purr in the back pocket of your jeans, cushioned by your ass. It's just as incognito as the man who's sending you a message is.

Your phone buzzes a few times. Seven, to be precise.

Needy, you think to yourself—but it pleases you. He never fails to disappoint.

Well, rarely. You've been waiting half an hour for a message from him, and it's so bloody typical that it would come through when you're finally busy.

"Positions!" Jimin calls from the corridor, letting the boys know their rest time is up.

Jinyu casts an authoritative eye over the boys, checking to make sure they all look okay before sending them on their way.

"Hair grip," she reminds Jungkook's stylist, who had left a tiny little clip in his fringe. She flusters, embarrassed at missing such a detail, but Jungkook just pulls it from his fringe without much care as he puts his phone back on its wireless charging port.

Namjoon follows suit, reminded that his phone was in his back pocket, tossing it on one of the dressing room tables. Yoongi tucks his phone into a bag by the sofa, and Tae does the same.

They file out in good spirits, hyping one another up for the final part of the show, staff patting their backs and cheering on words of encouragement. It's always bittersweet for them; their final performances are their favourites, but they're also the ones in which they know they'll be saying farewell—and no one likes goodbyes.

You watch with fondness as the stage-cam plays on the TV in the corner of the room. There's something about the five of them together, on stage, surrounded by an ocean of unadulterated love and affection, that feels like watching magic. It's the kind of thing that only happens once in a lifetime. You're thankful you get to witness it in all its glory. You'll probably watch the final few songs from the side of the stage, just to feel even an ounce of what the boys do.

Sinking back into the sofa, the scent of hot, sweaty men clouding the air, you pull your phone from your pocket—and sure enough, you're met with the notifications you've been hoping for.

New Secret from D4m0cl3s D4m0cl3s: late shift tonight, sorry one of the girls on my team made a joke about how tense i seem to be said i need to get laid... i told her she needs to mind her own fucking business but... it also got me thinking about you i finish in an hour give me a reason not to go out and get laid

You smile, as the heat that pricked at your skin when Jungkook caught your eye earlier that evening returns.

Part of you toys with the idea of 'what if it's him?' His phone is face down on its charger, all of his secrets hidden from the world.

Part of you hopes it is, just for the knowledge of it irritating the fuck out of Jin and the girls who are sat in the corner, gossiping about his giggling earlier.

Realistically, you know it's not. It's impossible.

You've been sent enough pictures from your Damocles boy of his hands doing unthinkable things to know it can't be Jungkook. They're free of ink, pristine and pale, a little pink in their tone, and the only clue you have of who the fuck you spend so much time talking to.

"Where are you off to now?!" Jinyu asks as you head for the door, somehow surprised that you're dipping again.

"Catering," you lie, knowing full well you're going to find somewhere private enough to give your Damocles boy exactly what he's after.

"You'll turn into a blueberry," she warns you. You hold back a laugh, and resist the urge to tell her that what you're actually about to turn into is a clementine.

There are half a dozen doors down the corridor, but you slide into the first storage cupboard you come across. It's empty, and there's a lock on it, which is all you really need.

If you'd have stayed in the dressing room, it would have been a tomato you turned into, instead. Your cheeks would flush scarlet red, just like they did when the familiar purr of a Hush notification chimed far too loudly for something that's supposed to be all about keeping secrets.

You'd take a second. Wouldn't want to check your own phone, 'cause then all the girls would know you'd received a message from a hook-up app.

But you're not in the room. Nor is your phone.

And they all hear it regardless.

The girls who gossip pause, wondering if they've all heard the same thing. Jinyu is oblivious, happily married and unaware of what Hush even really is, let alone the vibrate tone.

One, two, three messages ping their way from your phone to his, but you're none the wiser. Haven't got a clue.

It's been three months, and neither one of you has any desire to disclose your identity to the other. You're serving a purpose; fulfilling a need.

Why ruin a good thing?

You aren't 'good', nor opposed to being ruined—but that's neither really here nor there. You've got a system that works, and it would be foolish to change things now.

You return to the dressing room, unaware that your phone isn't the only device within those four walls littered with pictures of your bare chest. In fact, everyone is unaware. It's your own little secret that you don't even realise you're keeping, and one that you intend on taking to the grave.

"No blueberries?" Jinyu asks as you return empty-handed.

"Got distracted," you lie, as you settle back into the sofa, a pleasant air surrounding you. On the screen, the boys are laughing, indulging in the energy of their fans for the final time that evening.

"By?" she presses, curious as to why you're looking all smitten as you watch the screen.

It's got nothing to do with any of them.

Or so you think.

It's actually got a whole lot to do with one of them.

You just don't realise it yet.

And so you simply shrug, and say, "Secret."

"C'mon," Jungkook grins, eyes still swathed by the glow of mobile phone flashlights held up during the encore, even a whole thirty minutes after the show is over. He tugs on your arm, but you remain fixed in place, shaking your head. "We're all going, aren't we?"

The question is addressed to the boys, but he's still looking at you. You wish he wouldn't. Not when he looks like that.

His lips are wet, freshly licked, glistening like his silver lip ring, and his hair is still a little damp around the nape of his neck. There's something about him that looks a lot like magic. It's a wonder you haven't fallen under his spell.

"Uh-huh," Jin nods, tossing back the dregs of his final jack and coke. He's not yet run the rider dry, but it doesn't matter. He'll take the bottle with him, and wherever they end up won't turn them away, for they know he'll buy more – though the bar will likely comp it through. "You can ride with me."

Jungkook's grin widens. He loves it when a plan comes together.

♪ // No Shame - Five Seconds of Summer

"C'mon," Jungkook says again. Is quiet in his tone. Persuasive. "I'll miss you if you're not there."

"Is that supposed to make me feel a certain type of way?" You deadpan. "Try it on one of the makeup girlies. They'll eat it right up."

"Don't wanna try it on one of them," he whines a little, nudging his shoulder against yours. "It's our final show. We're celebrating."

"Your final show," you remind him. "I've got a gig next week. Some European group-"

"Don't care," he says. "You're ours for the night. Come party."

You roll your eyes back so hard it feels like you might have just seen your frontal lobe, but there's a smile on your lips, too. It's nice to feel wanted; appreciated.

The invite isn't extended to the make-up artists, who are busy packing away, hoping that Jungkook's neediness will shift to them instead. It won't, but they can keep dreaming.

"If I come - and it's a strong if - you're paying," you bargain.

All you really want is to get home as quickly as you possibly can. Had even considered ordering a taxi before the boys had finished their set, but knew Jimin would have a field day with that one. Might even dock your pay just to be a little git.

You've a date with your phone, but the draw of real life is just too tempting.

It's difficult, because you know that you should want to go out, want to celebrate the fact you can actually go out now that the shows are done... but a random dude sending dick pics somehow seems to be more appealing.

It's tragic, really. Something that you never wanna have to explain. You think you'd rather die. Are shameful of your shamelessness. Ironic.

And right on time, a buzz in your back pocket rumbles through you like a crack of lightning; burns your cheeks a pretty posy pink.

Jungkook's ignorance of your reaction is a blessing. You're not sure how you would've explained it away - though knowing Jungkook, he'd have used your blush to wind Jin up. Attribute it to himself. Play into the idea of you hooking up with him.

It's not like you've never considered it – but lately, it's been hard to 'consider' anyone other than your Damocles boy.

You're reminded of him now – his thick, pink knuckles, and his notably thicker, marginally less pink cock- and how he said that someone on his team told him he needed to get laid. You can't help but think the same for yourself.

It's not healthy, the way you're so drawn to the excitement a few pixels can give you. Is stopping you from living your real life.

There's an unease in your stomach; guilt, almost.

So you groan, knock your head back, and concede. "Fine!"

"Attagirl!" Jungkook beams as he pulls his phone from his pocket, checking the time and pushing it back into his jeans again. He reaches over for his bag, the scent of his aftershave catching you off guard. There's something about him... Something you know you should ignore, but are finding harder and harder to do so with each and every passing day. "We good to go?"

"Who else is coming?" You hum, heading to the coat rack to pick up your jacket. Tae is leaning against the door frame, shaking his head.

"Not me. Got a date with my bed," he says, ending his sentence with a yawn. He covers it with the back of his hand, but it's so loud you almost find yourself yawning too.

"Pussy," Jungkook scoffs. "Final show and-"

"Me either," Yoongi says as he walks past, not looking in your direction. The jacket that hangs around his broad shoulders is dark, just like his mood always seems these days.

You're not exactly sure when he decided that you weren't worthy of his time, but you're used to it now. Sucks, but such is life. He's always been a little like this, but it's your first time being on the receiving end of his coldness.

"Hot date with your bed?" You tease, hoping to get a little bit of warmth from him.

As he reaches the door, it surprises you both when he turns to look at you. There's a stillness to him; the slow evaporation of cloudy breaths in sub-zero temperatures. His eyes meet yours, and drop down your body. Pause when they land on your palms, and the phone that's being held in them.

His gaze returns to your eyes, fast quicker this time, and then he shrugs. "Yeah, something like that."

He doesn't wait for a reply. You don't intend on giving him one, either.

"And then there were 5," Jungkook sighs. "Fuck it, let's go."

STAIRWAY BAR Itaewon-ro, Yongsan-Gu

♪ // Heaven and Back - Chase Atlantic

There's something sordid about the place you're in. Could be the neon lights on the walls, could be the walls lined with stacks upon stacks of old vinyl records. Could be the birdcages where lampshades should be, or it could be the worn-out leather sofas you're on in the corner of the room. Could be the punters, and how they're all wrapped in their own personal brand of sin, too busy to notice the living legends walking amongst them.

Truthfully, it's why the boys like places like this. They become one with the shadows. Can hide. Do things in secret that other people do in public. It's not like they're actively looking for trouble, but they can't help but seem to find it. Whether it be women, drugs, booze, it doesn't matter – they've each got a kryptonite.

Regretfully, you know Jin's: women who are no good for him. Blonde, brunette, foreign, local, he doesn't give a shit. All that matters is they know who he is, and they want him in inexplicable ways.

Credit where it's due, they all have conviction. All get exactly what they want – but he's easy. Sluts himself out for the fun of it; for the novelty of being a 'rockstar'.

It's gotten worse since their last big award show win. He's getting careless. Has never been one to hand out NDAs, but the kind of people he's attracting now really should have gag orders – issue is, Jin's always far more focused on finding out how sensitive their gag reflex is.

Namjoon's is his inability to say 'no'. Afterparty? He's there. Toke on a joint that has no business being in the hands of such a high-profile man? Go on, then. An upper before a show? Don't mind if I do.

It's a disaster waiting to happen. Anywhere else and you wouldn't worry. In the States, it'd be a non-issue. Expected, even.

The laws aren't so forgiving, here. One bad decision and that's it. Jail time. But sir, I'm a rockstar, pwetty pwease let me go, won't work on a court judge, and even if it did, the court of public opinion and trial by social media would run him into the ground regardless.

Unfair? You think so, yes. Just how life goes? Also yes.

Though they all push the limits to a certain extent, it's Jungkook that's the biggest risk of all. He's the youngest. Got girls lining around the block just to have a look at him. Is bad in a way that girls convince themselves is good. I can fix him. All starry-eyed and sex appeal, there's nothing innocent about him. Nothing.

S'why you know better than to indulge in his flirt – because that's all it ever is. A limit to push. A boundary to break. A challenge he wants to win.

In quite the contrast, Taehyung keeps his boundaries watertight. Doesn't stray, doesn't overindulge. Goes home to a partner who'd give him the world, if he asked – but he won't. See, Kim Taehyung already has the world. Not his career (though it could be argued), not his money, not his fame. They're perks, sure – but his world waits up for him with his favourite snacks on the kitchen counter, ready to hear all about the show.

It's only the close circle that knows. The make-up girls don't have a clue. Jinyu is well aware, but not because it's ever been discussed. She just knows. Is intuitive, like that. Probably knows more about the boys' business than even Jimin does – and it's his job to know their business.

Though the boys would argue that Yoongi has no weakness, you believe otherwise.

His Achilles heal is found in his solitude. His laissez-faire attitude to the world around him stunts his enjoyment of it, you think. He's never gonna be in his twenties in the biggest band in the world ever again. These days will pass him by, and he's wasting them.

If he were to know you felt this way, he wouldn't dignify you with a response; he'd just show up to even fewer events to spite you. Has no interest in your unsolicited opinions of him.

Because you're wrong about his weaknesses.

While yes, his solitude exacerbates them, it's the silence that nurtures his weaknesses: his regrets. His inability to forget. Forgive. Let things go. He fixates, and it frustrates him to the point of fury.

His kryptonite is not how little he cares. Quite contrary. It's how violently he does care. That's what ties his shoelaces together and trips him up. Gives him a bloody nose. Scrapes his knees. Leaves him bloodied and bruised; pink in his pain.

But that's your kryptonite: your cocksure arrogance in thinking you know everything.

Or at least, that's what Yoongi would tell you, if he were ever to get into this debate with you.

He won't.

Again, you'll think it's because he's laissez-faire. That he doesn't care.

Regretfully, you'll be wrong – but he's the one who simmers over regrets, not you.

"Alright, alright!" You laugh, a little unsteady on your feet as you stand up after god-knows how many shots. Namjoon reaches out to steady you. Glances at Jin as if to say, 'kids, eh?'

You're all fucked. Have had far too much, but you figure that's what nights like these are for – who cares? You're celebrating.

Jin just smiles. Rolls his eyes, then averts his attention to the blonde by the bar who's gonna take your seat as soon as you leave.

Jungkook doesn't notice, cause he's too busy laughing at you.

"Just gonna run to the bathroom," you declare, as if they need to know such details. "Need to pee."

"Bathrooms just round the other side of the projector screen," Jimin tells you, nodding in its direction, 'cause even though it's after hours and he's far too heavily intoxicated, he can't help but be resourceful. That's his kryptonite. Can never switch off. "Just up the stairs."

It's not even like you need direction. Have been to this bar more times than you've had hot dinners.

Jungkook laughs. Thinks you're full of shit.

"Your tolerance is going down in your old age," he teases, as if you're not the same age. "Tactical chunders are for the weak."

You tell him to go fuck himself, and he laughs, all hearty and warm. "Gladly."

Their chatter continues without you. The blonde joins, and so does her friend. Someone's getting lucky tonight, and you're pretty sure it'll be all four of them. Thoughts you'd rather not think, honestly.

Teeny tiny is the bathroom. Cramped. A single cubicle is in working order and the hot tap has been broken for as long as you've been visiting this place. It definitely violates some health and safety codes, but who really gives enough of a shit to report it?

Holding your fingers beneath the already running tap, you check the temperature – as if the hot tap even works – and wait for a moment just to be sure. Icy cold, as always.

Lost in the sensation of the water, you forget for a moment why you're there.

While yeah, you could have a drink from the tap, you could have just gotten water at the bar.

Brain all fuzzy, you can't put your finger on it - until your phone vibrates in your back pocket.

And then suddenly, you remember exactly why you're in the bathroom.

11:37PM

D4m0cl3s: fuck, you look so good such a tease i'll be home as soon as i can be been thinking about you all night

11:58PM

i'm home let me know when you're free

00:16AM

you're taking your precious time tonight

00:21AM

what's the deal, huh? tryna get me all frustrated?

00:23AM

it's working

00:39AM

damn maybe that girl on my team was right maybe i should have just gone out and got laid tonight

01:05AM

really? even me being an asshole isn't working? is it compliments you want? you know i'll give you them

01:28AM

okay so i actually am a bit worried now, let me know when you're home safe, m'kay?

Cl3m3ntin3: you know what they say treat 'em mean, keep 'em keen

D4m0cl3s: FINALLY

Cl3m3ntin3: damn, you really are keen aren't you

D4m0cl3s: you were gone so long i was thinking about watching porn PORN you know how long it's been since i watched porn?

Cl3m3ntin3: if my calculations are correct, about 3 months?

D4m0cl3s: ... you're smart, clem but also so mean, my god got me all riled up and kept me waiting HOURS

Cl3m3ntin3: i'm sorry i'm here now and i'm thinking about you, too

D4m0cl3s: are you still out? at work?

Cl3m3ntin3: uh-huh out not at work, tho

Cl3m3ntin3 added new media to the chat!

D4m0cl3s: fucking hell, clem your tits look so good come here wanna hold them

Cl3m3ntin3: give me an address and i'll get in a taxi right now we can keep the lights off, never have to see each other keep things anon but i gottaaaa feel your hands on my chest

D4m0cl3s: i wish i could wish i could just fuck you like we both know you deserved to be fucked

Cl3m3ntin3: i'm not stopping you

D4m0cl3s: we both know that isn't entirely true

Cl3m3ntin3: do we? give me an address doesn't have to be yours hotel sex is always fun

D4m0cl3s: i have a feeling all sex with you will be fun location is irrelevant

Cl3m3ntin3: well i'm currently in a bathroom stall hiding from my friends just so i can reply to you you reckon a bathroom stall would be fun?

D4m0cl3s: i reckon i love a challenge

Cl3m3ntin3: well i mean i could always send you my current location...

D4m0cl3s: tempting... but no.

Cl3m3ntin3: you're your own worst cock block, damocles boy

D4m0cl3s: it's called deprivation, baby yanno, kind of like what you did when you kept me waiting for hours gonna make you want me so badly it hurts

Cl3m3ntin3: i already do which is why you should come and put me out of my misery

D4m0cl3s: you're with your friends, you're fine ;) actually you drinking?

Cl3m3ntin3: a little

D4m0cl3s: a little?

Cl3m3ntin3: ...a lottle?

D4m0cl3s: the fact you just said lottle tells me all i need to know lmao you know the drill, clem

Cl3m3ntin3: :((((( noooooo

D4m0cl3s: stop pouting

Cl3m3ntin3: i can't :(((

D4m0cl3s: you can i meant what i said about no drunk messages only want you doing this when your head is clear

Cl3m3ntin3: my head is clear and my head thinks you should stop thinking with yours actually start thinking with your dick instead :)

D4m0cl3s: fine then let's see how clear your head is send me a video of you walking in a straight line

Cl3m3ntin3: you just wanna see my feet perv

D4m0cl3s: video

Cl3m3ntin3: fineeee, fucking fine!

Cl3m3ntin3 added new media to the chat!

D4m0cl3s: oh yeah fuck that clem, you're pissed as a fart hahaha i'm not even sure you tried to walk in a straight line, you wobbly mess cute laugh tho get some water in you go back to your friends we can talk in the morning

Cl3m3ntin3: but i wanna talk now :( missed u today

D4m0cl3s: missed u too will miss you tonight but i'll wait

Cl3m3ntin3: :( whyyy do you have to be so good all the time :(

D4m0cl3s: because we both know that the second you send me a picture of your perfect little pussy, i won't be good

Cl3m3ntin3: now?

D4m0cl3s: no, baby in the morning, okay? drink some water.

Cl3m3ntin3: fine

D4m0cl3s: watch your attitude

Cl3m3ntin3: sighhh :((

D4m0cl3s: don't you'll make me feel bad just get yourself home and to bed and you can wake up to this tomorrow...

D4m0cl3s added new media to the chat!

Cl3m3ntin3: BRB, sprinting home

D4m0cl3s: shut up idiot enjoy your night lemme know when ur home

Cl3m3ntin3: okay :( sweet dreams, damocles boy x

D4m0cl3s: speak soon, clemmie x

D4m0cl3s is offline

08:58AM

D4m0cl3s: morning clemmie

Cl3m3ntin3: hereee he is was wondering when you'd be up

D4m0cl3s: been up ages was wondering if today would finally be the day you message me first ;)

Cl3m3ntin3: why would i ever do that? we both know you can't bear to be away from this chat thread for more than a few hours

D4m0cl3s: your ego never fails to amaze me

Cl3m3ntin3: i'm a product of your creation, damocles boy you told me last week that i'm the only thing that gets you hard these days and you expect me not to get an ego?

D4m0cl3s: hope you know that when i actually get to fuck you, there's no room in my bed for your ego

Cl3m3ntin3: oh bite me you're gonna be putty in my hands

D4m0cl3s: i'm really gonna have to fuck the ego out of you, aren't i? get your little attitude problem in check and biting? you into that?

Cl3m3ntin3: i'd like to see you try like i said, this is aaaaall your fault if you can't control yourself over a message thread, how the fuck will you cope when I'm in front of you? and pls i'm gonna be the one fucking you it's cute that you think otherwise stupid <33 but cute :)

D4m0cl3s: i literally hate you

Cl3m3ntin3: you gonna hate me when im on my knees between your legs?

D4m0cl3s: yep

Cl3m3ntin3: gonna hate me when i run my tongue up and down that pretty cock of yours?

D4m0cl3s: yep

Cl3m3ntin3: gonna hate me when i wrap my lips around your tip? when i take your hard cock in my warm, wet mouth?

D4m0cl3s: yep and yep

Cl3m3ntin3: gonna hate me when i take you so deep my eyes start watering?

D4m0cl3s: uh-huh

Cl3m3ntin3: you're a tough bargainer :(

D4m0cl3s: just means im gonna fuck you like i hate you

Cl3m3ntin3: no you're not :) you're gonna be soooo shy so timid so scared of fucking up because of how badly you want me

D4m0cl3s: the way you're gonna eat your fucking words actually makes me laugh

Cl3m3ntin3: i wanna hear your laugh

D4m0cl3s: you can hear it when you finally fuck me

Cl3m3ntin3: i could have fucked you last night you said no <//3

D4m0cl3s: incorrect i said not when you're drunk

Cl3m3ntin3: i'm a good fuck when im drunk

D4m0cl3s: i'm pretty sure you're a good fuck regardless of your blood alcohol concentration i've seen how you fuck your toys i know you're a good fuck

Cl3m3ntin3: like this?

Cl3m3ntin3 added new media to the chat!

D4m0cl3s: just like that fuck that's it, baby i like that toy what is it? glass? always looks so good when you sink it into your pussy so so wet, fucking hell

Cl3m3ntin3: glass, uh-huh you should get one for yourself

D4m0cl3s: myself?

Cl3m3ntin3: yourself

D4m0cl3s: i'm not sure that's my kinda thing, clemmie

Cl3m3ntin3: only one way to find out plus i remember how hard you came that time i got you to play with your ass a little

D4m0cl3s: shut up omg

Cl3m3ntin3: seeeeee, i'm totally gonna be the one doing the fucking :D

D4m0cl3s: you're not touching my ass

Cl3m3ntin3: i'm gonna eat it :)

D4m0cl3s: you're gonna do no such thing

Cl3m3ntin3: hehe okay whatever you say :D can't wait to say i told you so when you're face down ass up whining about how good my tongue feels :D

D4m0cl3s: and this is exactly why you need the ego fucked out of you never gonna happen

Cl3m3ntin3: you'll be begging for it one day but fineeeee, if u say so tell me how you'd do it, then? how would you fuck the ego (that you gave me!!!) outta me? tell me how you'd ruin me, damocles boy

D4m0cl3s: show me your pussy first let me look at how wet you are right now

Cl3m3ntin3 added new media to the chat!

D4m0cl3s: god, look at you if this is how wet you get thinking about eating my ass... we can put it on the maybe list but you'd be on your back, like you are now exactly like that, perfect and spread for me i'd start with my fingers

D4m0cl3s added new media to the chat!

these two i'll push them into you so slowly that you'll be begging for more you'll be all whiney (so no change to normal lmao) but i'll curl them a little, just like you said you like it, and use my thumb to toy with your clit

Cl3m3ntin3 added new media to the chat!

D4m0cl3s: fuck i love it when you send videos i could watch that forever literal cinema the way your pussy leaks for me, christ i wouldn't be able to watch your pussy leak like that without licking it up i'd keep my thumb on your clit, gently circling it as my tongue began to toy with your entrance you'd be so leaky on my tongue wouldn't you? so so fuckin' wet for me

D4m0cl3s added new media to the chat!

it's mutual, just so you know

Cl3m3ntin3: god i fucking love it when your tip gets all wet like that you are soooooo needy you wanna fuck me soooooo bad he he i stay winning!!!

D4m0cl3s: CLEM. CONTROL. YOUR. EGO!!

Cl3m3ntin3: FUCK. IT. OUT. OF. ME!!!!

D4m0cl3s: your ego is so big i think i'll just have to fuck you for hours at this point :/

Cl3m3ntin3: oh no :( such a shame !!! :(

D4m0cl3s added new media to the chat!

D4m0cl3s: just imagine this stretching your tight little pussy open my cock is so much bigger than that dildo

Cl3m3ntin3: can't wait to feel you inside me i know it's gonna hurt but in like... the best possible way you're so big and thick such a nice cock ♡♡

D4m0cl3s: i'll go slow with you baby ease you into it

Cl3m3ntin3 added new media to the chat!

Cl3m3ntin3: you've got me soooo wet i think it'll be easy to push into me fill me up

D4m0cl3s: my needy girl look at you my cock belongs inside you your pussy already belongs to me

Cl3m3ntin3: come and claim it

D4m0cl3s: you're making it harder and harder to say no fuck im close

Cl3m3ntin3: same i wanna watch you cum

D4m0cl3s: fuck it i'll call? we can finish together?

Cl3m3ntin3: please

Incoming call from D4m0cl3s Accept | Decline (03 minutes : 14 seconds)

Call ended.

Cl3m3ntin3: nice work

D4m0cl3s: pleasure doing business

Cl3m3ntin3: as always i totally heard that little giggle tho ;)

D4m0cl3s: fuck off what giggle

Cl3m3ntin3: the one you did after you came all over your tummy :)♡♡

D4m0cl3s: never giggled in my life ever

Cl3m3ntin3: liar x

D4m0cl3s: i only laughed cause you did too >:(

Cl3m3ntin3: and i only laughed cause of how hard you made me cum you've got a gift, damocles boy

D4m0cl3s: and you've got the nicest pussy i've ever seen in my whole entire life

Cl3m3ntin3: you have to use a dating app to get your rocks off deffo a virgin :/ never seen a pussy before in your life :/ not much competition to compare me to, is there? :/

D4m0cl3s: i really do mean it when i say i hate you :) x

Cl3m3ntin3: i know you do babe

D4m0cl3s: wish we were never matched, actually

Cl3m3ntin3: same might just block you actually

D4m0cl3s: PLEASE put me out of my misery

Cl3m3ntin3: okay :D bye forever :D

D4m0cl3s: wait no don't :(

Cl3m3ntin3: you're a bloody seesaw boy always up and down either hate me or love me make up your mind !!

D4m0cl3s: lmao you've no idea but where's the fun in that? i like keeping you on your toes

Cl3m3ntin3: true i gotta run tho got a date with a real boy seeyaaaa x

D4m0cl3s: wooooah wait wait a date?

Cl3m3ntin3: yeah with someone in like.. real life... problem?

D4m0cl3s: no problem just surprised that's all

Cl3m3ntin3: that someone would want to date me?

D4m0cl3s: no that you'd want to date someone else

Cl3m3ntin3: breaking news: girl in her early twenties wants more than nudes from a stranger on the internet

D4m0cl3s: fair enough probably shouldn't continue this, then a heads up would have been nice

Cl3m3ntin3: you wanna stop?

D4m0cl3s: no no, i really don't, clem but you're right you do deserve more

Cl3m3ntin3: yeah i do

D4m0cl3s: i actually hate this wtf like i know you can do what you like and i can do what i like but i thought we had something good going?

Cl3m3ntin3: we do thank god i'm just lying about a date for attention :) <3

D4m0cl3s: what the fuck clem

Cl3m3ntin3: made you shit your pants didn't i

D4m0cl3s: CLEM.

Cl3m3ntin3: DAMOCLES BOY.

D4m0cl3s: so you're not going on a date?

Cl3m3ntin3: no you idiot you think i have enough time to be meeting new people when i spend all my free time sending you nudes? was just fucking with you wanted to see if you cared

D4m0cl3s: you could have just asked

Cl3m3ntin3: you'd have told me you hate me

D4m0cl3s: BECAUSE I DO you're actually mental

Cl3m3ntin3: he he u luv it

D4m0cl3s: i don't

Cl3m3ntin3: do basically started crying when you thought someone else might take your place

D4m0cl3s: you didn't even give me a chance to clean myself up you fucking menace !! just made me cum and then did a 180 what did you expect me to do?! you know how sad my dick looks right now?

Cl3m3ntin3: no show me

D4m0cl3s: get fucked you little cretin

Cl3m3ntin3: let me see your sad cock :(

D4m0cl3s: you're never seeing it again you don't deserve it after that little stunt

Cl3m3ntin3: so... ill see it tonight?

D4m0cl3s: .... .......... ............... probably now fuck off i've got a day to get on with might even go on a date

Cl3m3ntin3: no you won't :D

D4m0cl3s: i hate you x

Cl3m3ntin3: denial x

D4m0cl3s is offline

"Jesus Christ," you say, tone full of surprise when you walk into your living room. It's just gone midday, and you've finally risen from your hangover pit of despair.

Following the conversation with your Damocles boy, you had decided a nap was in order, but it only served to make your headache even worse. Turns out, the orgasm had just been a temporary solution. You need paracetemol, and you need it now.

"Jimin, actually," an equally hungover mess groans from your sofa. He's bundled in blankets, a pouty chin hooked over the armrest to look at you with puppy dog eyes. His expression screams 'water pls'.

"And Jungkook," a second voice whines from behind the sofa. A hand rises from the direction of the voice, covered in thick black inkings, before falling with a thud.

Your lips hang ajar as you look at them both, far more confused than you should be. When you glance over to the kitchen counter, you're greeted with the sight of what must have been a rager. There are bottles everywhere - mainly soju and beer - and there's a sticky sheen pooling around their bases. A packet of crisps is open on the hob, but most of the actual crisps are scattered on the floor. You're willing to bet good money on Jungkook being responsible for those.

"The fuck happened last night?" You ask, though you're able to pick up enough context clues from the photobooth pictures that are on your fridge door. They're stuck in place with washi tape, of which you don't remember buying.

"You didn't buy it," Jungkook says when you ask about it. "Stole it from the photobooth place. Little klepto."

"Brilliant," you grimace. The last thing you need is a scandal going around about Kim Seokjin's troublesome younger sister and her thieving ways. The media love a scandal, and Jin has been able to avoid them for the most part. "Joon and Jin?"

"Headed home before us," Jimin tells you. "Really don't remember a thing, do you?"

The last thing you remember is messaging your Damocles boy in the bathroom stall. You don't even really remember how the conversation ended. The rest of the night? Never happened, in your mind.

Still reeling, the day wastes away from you all.

It's spent huddled up on your sofa, Jungkook's Spotify connected to your speaker, as you try and decipher exactly what happened the night before. It's like you're the cast of a shitty Hollywood movie from 10 years ago - nothing makes sense, but it also kind of all does. Jungkook's got the least patchy memories. Remembers how you got home, at least.

There's only one thing he doesn't mention - partially because it happened this morning, not last night, but also because he wants to spare your dignity.

He's a light sleeper. Especially the mornings after a few too many drinks. As soon as the alcohol flushes his body, he has to get up, get water, go to the bathroom. Set his world to rights. This morning had been no exception.

Just a shame he happened to wake a mere matter of moments before your Damocles boy had called you.

No words had been spoken, no conversation took place - but with your phone angled awkwardly for prime shots of your most intimate areas, you had moaned a little louder than usual to make sure the mic picked it up.

And so Jungkook had heard it all - and had recognised the click of a Hush call coming to an end. He's had more than enough himself to know the tone by now.

Watching on as you laugh with Jimin about something nonsensical, mid-afternoon sun pouring through the cracks in your curtains, Jungkook is curious.

You don't notice the way he's studying you, nibbling on his lip ring as he does so.

The running joke between the pair of you about dating to piss off Jin has always been exactly that - a joke - but the idea of you dating someone else in the industry makes him feel a little... off.

He doesn't question it, though. Doesn't really know what to make of it. Doesn't like it, mind you.

As the evening begins to draw in, Jimin leaves first, with Jungkook set to follow suit half an hour later. He tells you he'll leave at 6, but he's still on your sofa when it hits 7:05PM.

"There's something about you lately," he says, scheming, dark eyes narrow. You narrow yours back right back.

"How so?"

"Dunno," he smiles. He wants to ask who you're fucking about with, but it seems too forward. You're close, and have been for years, but not as close as you used to be. His fault, really. He's the one who ditched you when he started dating some songwriter a few years back. "You just seem... preoccupied. What's going on with you, fizz?"

The nickname is so natural that it rolls off Jungkook's tongue as if he hadn't stopped calling you it around the same time he got that girlfriend. She didn't last long, but the slight chill to your friendship had.

"Haven't heard that in a while," you smile right back, as you take a sip on the fizzy orangade that you adore so much it had become a bloody nickname.

"Still suits you," he says, and he's right. Fizzy by name, fizzy by nature. "So you gonna tell me?"

You're not really sure what he wants you to say, so just shrug. "I'm fine, buddy. Are you okay?"

"I'm cool," he nods, aware of the fact you definitely don't want to talk about whatever it is going on with you - so he changes topic. "Nervous about tour, if I'm being honest. You're coming, right? Been contracted on?"

"Uh-huh," you nod. "For the European leg, at least. They haven't sent out contracts yet for the US leg."

"You'll be on it," he says with absolute certainty. He can't see any reason why you wouldn't be. They all like having you around. It's nice having a familiar face backstage. Nice having a friend.

"Hopefully," you agree, very aware that your job is incredibly sought after. You're not the only nepotism baby around, and know that the US leg will be a lot more... political, as it were. Record label execs will all be fighting for attention from the boys, and that could mean putting overqualified suits in job positions like yours, just for a little bit of Scout exposure.

"You really think they're gonna kick you off the roster?" he smiles, nudging you with his foot from across the sofa. "We'd all riot. Even Yoongi."

Now that is something you doubt.

"He'd probably be leading the counter-riot to have me kicked off," you roll your eyes.

"He's just pissy that he can't be annoyed with you," Jungkook laughs. "He wants to hate how you got hired, but he knows you're good at what you do. Knows that you'd have got the job with or without your bloodline."

"Or," you counter. "He really does just hate me."

Jungkook shakes his head. He's noticed Yoongi's coldness recently, too. Puts it down to stress from touring so intensely. Things were definitely different than they used to be - not necessarily any better, nor worse. Just different.

"It's understandable," Jungkook taunts you. "You are pretty unbearable."

He catches your foot as you go to kick him, surprised by how strong your legs actually are - but you're no match for his upper body strength. Not even when you try and use your other leg, as well.

"Some boys actually enjoy my company," you protest, still struggling a little.

"Uh-huh," Jungkook nods, biting down on his bottom lip. His eyes are sparkling in the same way they did after last night's concert. He's just messing, flirting with you for the fun of it, but he knows he shouldn't. Knows he's only doing it cause he knows you're talking to someone else. He's lost your affections before, and while you're just friends, he still doesn't like the idea of it happening again. He likes being number one. Likes being top of the food chain. "Sure they do."

He thinks he has the upper hand here, but he hasn't realised you've stopped fighting against his grip. You're gentle in the way you move your legs, lowering them just a little until they're on his lap. He lets them be. Pays no notice to the fact he's not entirely soft beneath his sweats.

You ignore it, too. Kind of. Press down a little, just to let him know you know. He doesn't react. Just cocks one of his brows, as if to say, 'so?'

And then he figures that throwing caution to the wind is the best option here. He doesn't want to let things get out of hand, and he's sure you don't either.

"So are you gonna tell me about your Hush boy now or later?"

The way your jaw drops is almost comical. The pressure of your feet eases, and Jungkook is sad to lose it, but he doesn't resist as you pull your legs up to your chest in panic. He's still got that cocksure grin on his face, amused by your reaction.

"What?" He smirks, reclining back into the corner of the sofa. His legs spread a little, and the bulge is even more noticeable. He's doing it to fuck with you, now. You don't even look in its direction, but he still has the nerve to say, "Eyes up here, fizz."

"My eyes are up," you almost gasp. "And so are you, apparently."

Jungkook knocks his head to the side, and scrunches his nose a little. Being called out for it makes him a little awkward, even when he's the most confident guy you've ever known.

"I'm just hungover-"

"Yeah, yeah," you roll your eyes, before reciting the same bullshit he always says. "I'm always more horny when I'm hungover."

The way you say it is so whiney that Jungkook can't help but laugh. "I don't sound like that you prick - and stop deflecting. I heard you this morning. Sounds like I'm not the only one who suffers from horny hangovers."

It's about now that your face blossoms with the most delightful shade of red. Your cheeks are hot, and Jungkook can see how mortified you are. He finds it fucking hilarious.

"You didn't."

"Oh," he sings. "But I did."

"I'm gonna throw up," you grimace. Flirting with Jungkook is all well and good, but the idea of him hearing you get yourself off is shameful. Truly horrific.

"You didn't remember that me and Jimin had crashed here, did you?" He teases, knowing that you'd have never done it had you known they were in the next room over - or maybe you would have done. You just would have been a little more discreet.

"Didn't have a clue," you confirm, before burying your head in a sofa cushion. This is probably the most tragic conversation you've ever had with Jungkook.

He just laughs. Finds it hilarious.

"You didn't hear anything," you tell him. "Forget it ever happened."

"Was kinda hot," he shrugs - but fails to tell you that his current semi isn't the first time he's been hard in your apartment today. "Doesn't answer my question, though. Who's your Hush guy?"

Your face screws up like a paper napkin. This is not a conversation you want to be having, nor one you thought you'd be having a few minutes ago when your feet were on his cock.

In fact, your eyes are still closed, face all cute and regretful when you say, "How the fuck am I supposed to know? Doesn't that defeat the object of Hush?"

Jungkook laughs. "Give over. Who is he?"

"I'm being serious," you say, and notice the way Jungkook's smile shifts. He looks a little concerned, now, brows hard. "I don't know."

"Fizz," he says, too shocked to address you by anything but a dumb nickname. His brows are furrowed, and it's his jaw gaping now, not yours. "How do you not know?"

And now you're confused, because you thought that anonymity was the whole point of Hush.

"We just... never disclosed it, I guess?"

"So, what?" Jungkook's tone changes. It sounds like he's accusing you now, berating you a little. You both look as bewildered as one another. "You just matched with some dude this morning and got straight to it?"

That's the only plausibility, Jungkook thinks.

He knows Hush, knows what it's like, but knows that the stakes are too high to keep the anon act up. If he isn't comfortable enough to share his identity within a day or two, he unmatches.

Sure, he's gotten himself in pretty risky conversations straight off the bat before, and has had his fair share of casual encounters thanks to the app - but he doesn't love the idea of you doing it, too. It's because he knows that he doesn't care for the girls he uses in those situations, and dislikes the idea of someone else using you like that.

"No?" You reply, a little offended. "We've been talking for like... a few months?"

Jungkook almost shrieks. "A few months?! And you don't know who he is?!"

You stay silent for a moment. You're reflecting his confusion back at him. He can't understand for the life of him why you don't see a problem with this - but you haven't worked your way through the Hush circles like he has. Your Damocles boy has been the only person you've ever given the time of day on there.

"That's the whole point?" You say, but it's really a question because you can't understand why he's so horrified.

"He could be anyone," Jungkook whispers, as if he's trying to keep your secret for you. "Anyone!"

"He's alright," you promise. "He's nice."

"You don't even know his name!"

"I'm pretty sure you can only name a handful of the girls you've fucked in the last couple of years," you scoff at his hypocrisy.

Jungkook got eyes like a hopeless romantic, all shiny and bright. People don't seem to realise such appeal affords him endless opportunities for casual encounters - of which he thinks it would be rude to turn down. Or at least that's what he tells you.

Realistically, you know he just likes fucking about.

"That's not the point here, fizz, and you know it," he scolds.

"Who I may or may not send nudes to is really none of your concern, Jungkook," you tell him.

"I know that," he insists. "But if this has been going on for months..."

"Then it's still none of your concern."

He holds up his hands, eyes wide. He's waving a white flag, even if he thinks you're a walking, talking red one. "I'm not attacking you, here. I just think you need to be careful."

"I'm fine," you tell him softly, and he's pleased when you smile at him in that fond way he's so used to. It feels a lot safer than the confusion on your face a moment ago. You know his concern comes from a good place. "It's just what works for us. It's as much my choice as it is his."

Jungkook nods, and lets it go, but not before warning you, "I'm not the only one of the guys on there. Tae and Jin, we both know they're not, but the rest of them? I dread to think of what Jin would do if he found out Joon was phone fucking his little sister."

You laugh now. Really laugh.

"I'm not kidding!" Jungkook protests.

"I'd recognise any of you in an instant," you tell him, and you really believe it.

You have no doubt in your mind that you'd be able to sense any of them off from miles away. They're too familiar.

"I fucking hope so," he laughs, and while you're laughing too, you feel a little uneasy.

Maybe he has a point. Maybe you do need to dig a little deeper.

But as Jungkook leaves, and you check your phone only to find a new message waiting from your Damocles boy, you can't help but feel a little out of your depth already.

21:43PM

D4m0cl3s: whyyyy am i so obsessed with u

22:10PM

leaving me on read? that's a new one (plus will probably only make me a little more obsessed (something about toxic girls that just really gets to me))

22:32PM

i lied i don't like toxic girls pls don't ignore me clem :(

Cl3m3ntin3: hey sorry was just a little busy

D4m0cl3s: it's cool you okay?

Cl3m3ntin3: yeah yeah, im all good you?

D4m0cl3s: im okay you seem a little... i dunno. off?

Cl3m3ntin3: sorry i'm fine really

D4m0cl3s: yanno, you say one thing but the way you're writing sends a whole entire different message it's v confusing, clem

Cl3m3ntin3: sorry i don't mean to be im all good, honest

D4m0cl3s: stop saying sorry

22:54PM

clem whats up you're never like this, you got me worried

Cl3m3ntin3: you sat at home worrying over a girl you can't even imagine?

D4m0cl3s: wdym?

Cl3m3ntin3: it's not like you can picture me not like you can think of my face so what are you thinking about when you're worrying? some pixels? your phone?

D4m0cl3s: right. where has all this come from? please know my face is very confused right now so whatever you imagine when you think of me - 'cause let's remember that you don't have a fuckin' clue what i look like either - add a little confusion to it that should do the job.

Cl3m3ntin3: i'm gonna add a little anger to it 'cause you seem pissed off

D4m0cl3s: well, yeah? i kind of am i don't get why you're, like, attacking me? like im the only one keeping a secret? it's you and me both, clem.

00:06AM

you can't just ignore me whenever i say something you don't like

Cl3m3ntin3: no? i think i can. goes with the territory of you not knowing who the fuck i am. no repercussions.

D4m0cl3s: where the fuck has all this come from? were we not good this morning?

00:13AM

and there you go again, leaving me on read.

Cl3m3ntin3: don't act like you actually give a fuck been 3 months if you cared, surely i'd know who you are by now?

D4m0cl3s: pot, kettle, black, clem it's a two-way street and fuck you if i didn't care, i'd just be leaving your shitty attitude on read, too.

Cl3m3ntin3: how can you care about someone you don't know? really? how can you?

D4m0cl3s: are you telling me you don't care about me?

00:17AM

if this is you leaving me on read again then you can go fuck yourself. like literally just unmatch me.

Cl3m3ntin3: im not leaving you on read im trying to figure out what the fuck i want to say just give me a moment, okay?

D4m0cl3s: m'kay.

Cl3m3ntin3: i care that's, like the most important thing here. i really care. i just i had someone irl questioning me about you today and it kind of left me stumped. why don't you want to know who i am?

D4m0cl3s: i kinda hate that an outsider has swayed your opinion on me so much don't get me wrong, i love that your friends care about you just hate that it makes you think i don't

Cl3m3ntin3: that's not an answer

D4m0cl3s: patience is a virtue, clem i was getting there my line of work... i cant commit to anything. it isn't fair. it isn't fair to let someone get invested in me. the moment you know who i am, everything changes it's far easier for you to be detached if i'm just a few pixels if this isn't physical

Cl3m3ntin3: you've spent 3 months getting yourself off to me and me alone that's commitment, isn't it?

D4m0cl3s: that's conditioning, clem you've made everything else so incredibly boring you're the only thing that excites me

Cl3m3ntin3: and yet...

D4m0cl3s: and yet. clem, we both know the second this becomes more than what it already is, there's no taking it back. i don't wanna lose this don't wanna lose you.

Cl3m3ntin3: i think it's really sad that you think being honest will result in losing me

D4m0cl3s: just how the cookie crumbles, clem i've seen it happen with my friends you were right when you said you deserve more than dick pics from some rando on the internet but even if you knew who i was, that's all i'd be able to give you i like you too much to cope with knowing how disappointed you'd be by the outcome of my grand reveal a few pixels can only disappoint you so much a real, tangible human? so much more.

Cl3m3ntin3: just a rando on the internet who sends me dick pics and yet you've got me feeling all kinds of fucked up

D4m0cl3s: it's mutual, if it helps really did mean it when i said i was obsessed with u earlier and for the record i don't really imagine a person when i think of you more of like.. i dunno. an aura? i guess. peachy. orange. a little green. very clementine inspired maybe that's it maybe i imagine clementines my teeny tiny clementine

Cl3m3ntin3: you make my heart hurt

D4m0cl3s: you make my heart hurt, too

Cl3m3ntin3: i'm sorry for... like going off at you

D4m0cl3s: it's cool kind of nice to see this side of you, i guess ur ego isn't always big shock

Cl3m3ntin3: oh no it is this is all the result of a bruised ego was very offended that you didn't wanna know i am i'll have you know one of my friends got a semi just looking at me earlier and yet the guy who makes me cum doesn't even wanna know me <///333

D4m0cl3s: firstly lets stop with this nonsense, okay? i would kill to know who you are and as soon as we're both in situations where it's fair i'm booking you a taxi and routing it straight for my place also fuck ur friend (not literally pls)

Cl3m3ntin3: oh? not gonna wine and dine me first? (i wont)

D4m0cl3s: absolutely not first thing im doing is checking to see if your head can fit through doors, you egomaniac

Cl3m3ntin3: and the second thing?

D4m0cl3s: fucking the rest of that ego out of you ♡♡

Cl3m3ntin3: and they say romance is dead

D4m0cl3s: im not the most romantic of guys

Cl3m3ntin3: i'll pretend im shocked

D4m0cl3s: are we good, clem?

Cl3m3ntin3: yeah we're good im sorry for getting so in my head about things don't even know why i got so pissed about you not being able to imagine me when i literally can't imagine you either lmao

D4m0cl3s: what do you think of when you think of me?

Cl3m3ntin3: honestly?

D4m0cl3s: honestly...

Cl3m3ntin3: your cock lmao i wish i could say something cute like your aura, but i'd simply be lying

D4m0cl3s: for fucks sake haha

Cl3m3ntin3: good cock, at least great cock, some would say

D4m0cl3s: some?

Cl3m3ntin3: yeah not me i'd say average :)

D4m0cl3s: average? AVERAGE?

Cl3m3ntin3: yeah :D

D4m0cl3s: i... do you need reminding or something?

Cl3m3ntin3: no? it's average :) !

D4m0cl3s: the man was too stunned to speak

Cl3m3ntin3: maybe i do need reminding then? could have sworn it was average? maybe even a little smaller?

D4m0cl3s: you are rubbing salt in a wound, miss teeny tiny clementine i've never been more offended

Cl3m3ntin3: hmm... prove me wrong?

D4m0cl3s: i want it on record that i hate you

Cl3m3ntin3: sure you do, baby

D4m0cl3s added new media to the chat!

D4m0cl3s: does this help?

Cl3m3ntin3: a little? not much, though maybe it would help if I had some more context? maybe you should play with it for me a little bit?

D4m0cl3s added new media to the chat!

D4m0cl3s: like this?

Cl3m3ntin3: ooo that's a little better only a little, though maybe more?

D4m0cl3s added new media to the chat!

D4m0cl3s: what about now?

Cl3m3ntin3: maybe you should play with your balls a little? for like... spacial awareness?

D4m0cl3s added new media to the chat!

yeah, that helps that really helps

D4m0cl3s: still average? or does it look like we both know it does?

Cl3m3ntin3: how do we both know it looks?

D4m0cl3s: like it would ruin your tight little cunt

Cl3m3ntin3: damn, damocles you're really coming for me now, aren't you? what happened to my pretty little pussy you love so much? it's cunt now?

D4m0cl3s: you don't want me playing nice right now you wouldn't be telling me i'm below average if you did you want me fucking you like i have a point to prove

Cl3m3ntin3: and what point would that be?

D4m0cl3s: that once i finally get to fuck your (pretty, perfect, fucking incredible) cunt, it's mine mine, and no one else's especially not that friend of yours who got hard looking at you

Cl3m3ntin3: i spy with my little eye something that begins with J (it ends in 'ealousy', suga) sugar** lmao typo

D4m0cl3s: suga on the brain? you a scouts fan?

Cl3m3ntin3: they're fine not what i want to be thinking of right now, tho

D4m0cl3s: my bad well, no, your bad actually who's your favourite member?

Cl3m3ntin3: shuuuuush time and place, babe also i have an idea

D4m0cl3s: go on?

Cl3m3ntin3: you got a bottle close by?

D4m0cl3s: ermmm like water bottle?

Cl3m3ntin3: yeah

D4m0cl3s: i've a chilsung?

Cl3m3ntin3: perfect me too wanna see your hand wrapped around it

D4m0cl3s: .... i have a cock right here and hard for you .... and you wanna see my hand around a bottle?

Cl3m3ntin3: just do it baby

D4m0cl3s added new media to the chat!

oh my fucking god

D4m0cl3s: what?

Cl3m3ntin3 added new media to the chat!

oh holy shit why is your hand so small it doesn't even get around the bottle?????!! i'd literally like... eclipse it

Cl3m3ntin3: uh huh now wrap your hand around your cock you know the size difference now you know exactly what it'd look like

D4m0cl3s: god i'm gonna fucking destroy you arent i

Cl3m3ntin3: uh huh i think so jesus christ i haven't even been touching myself and look at the state of me

Cl3m3ntin3 added new media to the chat!

you did this this is all you

D4m0cl3s: all mine i'm never gonna share you god i gotta fuck you

Cl3m3ntin3: we've literally just had a full entire fuck off conversation as to why you cant

D4m0cl3s: im a boy im stupid i cant be trusted to make such decisions let me fuck you please

Cl3m3ntin3: no, baby you know you can't you gotta be patient

Cl3m3ntin3 added new media to the chat!

think of how well you'll be rewarded

D4m0cl3s: no i gotta fuck you i need to i think i might die if i can't

D4m0cl3s added new media to the chat!

so hard that death is the only option

Cl3m3ntin3: the way you hold it around the base always gets me so fucked up all i can think about is the fact it will look just like that when you guide it into me

Cl3m3ntin3 added new media to the chat!

reckon im wet enough for you?

D4m0cl3s: i think you're wet enough that i'll never need to drink water again so fucking hot literally how the fuck do you even get that wet

Cl3m3ntin3: wish i could tell you truth is you're the only one who's ever got me like that

D4m0cl3s: fuck don't say shit like that, clem im too close

Cl3m3ntin3: you can cum, baby i wanna see it

D4m0cl3s: can i call? i wanna watch you too

Cl3m3ntin3: yes please pretty please

D4m0cl3s: always so good for me, clem ain't no fuckin' way im ever losing this

Cl3m3ntin3: just call me you sentimental prick ;)

Incoming call from D4m0cl3s Accept | Decline (01 minute : 37 seconds) Call ended.

Cl3m3ntin3: im so furious that was a call and not a video you fucking whined WHINED jesus i might cum again just thinking about it

D4m0cl3s: and they say men are easy

Cl3m3ntin3: fuck you, you know you're hot

D4m0cl3s: do i?

Cl3m3ntin3: yeah yeah you fucking do give me all this shit for my ego, but jesus christ you know exactly what you do to me

D4m0cl3s: and you know it's mutual the whine... yeah that wasn't intentional you're just??? unreal????

Cl3m3ntin3: probably a good idea that we don't ever fuck i think i'd stop being able to function like a useful member of society would just want to spend all day in bed with you

D4m0cl3s: you say that as we don't spend a fair amount of our free time doing exactly that just... not together but still together kinda i guess? does that make sense?

Cl3m3ntin3: it makes sense i'm sorry about earlier, still

D4m0cl3s: im sorry, too i know that this isn't like... conventional

Cl3m3ntin3: conventional is boring im gonna go get a shower quickly talk later?

D4m0cl3s: talk later miss u already x

D4m0cl3s is offline

BIG HIT ENT OFFICES Yongsan-gu, Seoul

"You can stop avoiding me, yanno," Jungkook mumbles as he comes to stand beside you.

The grey corridors of Big Hit all look the same, but this one's a little different. It's The Scouts stomping ground; space reluctantly given to them after the success of the last album. Told management they needed studios to work in underdisturbed. Three of them. Tae and Jin didn't care for one - are happy doing their own shit in the dingy old practise room in the basement - but Yoongi, Namjoon and Jungkook all threw tantrums.

Well, less-so trantrums and more-so well put together business plans an ROI graphs for some of the senior bosses. Hoseok was in charge of overseeing it all, and blew far too much budget on it - something of which has bitten them all in the arse, and keeps them tied to their label for longer, but they have freedoms, at least. More than most bands in their field. Oppotunities. Visibility.

At the far end of the corridor, closest to the snack machine, is Jungkook's studio.

There's silence as you watch the packet of chips you just chose drop into the vending chute, with little care for the fact he sounds stroppy. Though you don't look at him, you know he's pouting. Can hear it in his voice.

It's been a few days since he left your apartment and you haven't really spoken since. It's not like it's totally uncommon for you to go a while without chatting, but you are aware that you left a couple memes sent to you on read.

You weren't trying to be a bitch, he just sent them at bad times, and you forgot to reply. Seems as if your lack of consideration has left him overthinking, and you feel a little bad.

You crouch, knees cracking as you do, stuffing your arm into the machine and retrieving your purchases - plural. A packet of chips for you, and banana milk for him. He narrows his eyes as you hold it towards him. You're still crouched, eyes a little wide but impatient.

"Take it or I'll drink it myself, you big baby."

He wants to resist, but he can't. Something just so tempting about banana milk. Gets him every time.

"Was coming to see you, actually," you say as you return to your full posture, knocking your head to the side to indicate you want to walk. He follows your lead like he always does. It explains the banana milk, at least, and makes him feel a little easier. "Just been busy, haven't been avoiding you. Stupid. Anyways, had a meeting today about the next run of shows so thought I'd pop up and say hi before I left."

He hums to let you know he's listening, encouraging you to keep on talking as he reaches the door to his studio. It's pin-protected, so you wait till he's typed in the code to continue - though realistically, you both know you could have just typed it in yourself.

"How'd it go?" He asks, both out of politeness and general curiosity. He's always keen to hear about your life; what's going on with it.

"Yeah, yeah," you nod, entering first and taking a seat in his favourite desk chair as soon as you're inside. You drape your overshirt across the back of it, and ignore the way Jungkook's eyes briefly flitter towards your chest. His gaze doesn't linger, so you don't bother teasing him about it. "All good. Just going over some health and safety stuff."

He pops his banana milk down on the desk. Frowns. Sighs. "Up."

Every single time. Him and his bloody chair.

"But there's another chair right there!" You protest, knowing full well you're in Jungkook's ridiculously overpriced gaming chair, which really has no business being in a music studio - but dear lord if it isn't the comfiest thing you've ever sat on.

"Exactly!" He wails in return. "You, there. Me, here."

The way he gestures his hands makes him look like a flight attendant, all poised and direct, but you don't budge.

"Mhmm-mm," you mumble, trying to eat a chip as Jungkook tugs on your arm. "Me, here. You there!"

"You're gonna get crumbs all over it," he says with such a pout that you can't help but laugh. You know he's got a mini vacuum in his desk drawer precisely for times like these. You know because you're the one who bought it, after the fifth time you'd argued over something as trivial as a few crumbs.

"I won't," you pout right back, then promise, "I'll wipe my fingers."

He's about to say something back, before he realises that you are wiping your fingers - right along the hem of his shirt.

"For fucks sake, you little shit," he moans, wrapping his arm around your head to get you in a headlock. Should have just done this earlier, he thinks. The pair of you struggle for a moment, but he's too bloody strong. You squeal as he drags you off the chair and plonks you down in the spare seat. "Much better."

"You suck," you huff as you kick out at him, but miss as he sits himself down and rolls away with a cheeky little grin on his face.

He's about to reply all rather childishly, but a knock at his door breaks the contact of his eyes on yours.

You're thankful for the interruption. You don't like the way it feels when you look at Jungkook these days. It's a bit... too much.

"Who is it?" Jungkook calls, the frosted glass hiding the intruder, but not really. Even you can make out who it is.

"Yoongi," he calls through, to which Jungkook tells him that he can let himself in. He's one of the chosen few; the secret circle. In all reality, every single one of the boys knows Jungkook's passwords, but he tells himself otherwise. Somehow likes the idea of exclusivity.

"Hey, I- oh," Yoongi begins as he enters the room, stopping as he realises you're there. He's dressed down, a pair of black slacks and a white shirt a fair few sizes too large draped over his shoulders.

Dressed quite a lot like you, actually, though your slacks are fitted and high-waisted, and the white shirt you're in is tight. It clings to your skin, and now that your overshirt is hooked over the back of Jungkook's chair, there's not much hiding your silhouette.

They've both seen you in far less - there's a mutual agreement to never speak of your twenty-third birthday party and the bath debacle - but it's not often you're in anything that doesn't hide you up a little. It's just professionalism, and considering you're mostly around them at work, it makes sense.

But your shirt had ridden up a little from the struggle with Jungkook, and your midriff is distracting for Yoongi, apparently. He stays silent. Looks at you. Looks at Jungkook. Looks at your shirt, which is crumpled by Jungkook. Looks at the mess your hair is in following the headlock. Is unaware of the headlock ever taking place. Adds 2 and 2 and gets 5.

"Didn't realise you had company," Yoongi musters. "My bad."

"Don't mind me," you smile. "I can get gone, if you need time with Jungkook?"

"No, no," Yoongi insists, before turning to focus on Jungkook. The way he cuts the conversation short with you weighs on you. You and Yoongi had never been close, not in the same way you were with Jungkook, but there was a time when you would have been invited along with whatever he needed Jungkook for. Hasn't been that way for a while now, but it still makes you sad. "Just running through that demo you sent over, I've got some notes. I'll be in the studio all evening, so just come by whenever you're... done."

It dawns on you pretty quickly that Yoongi's jumping to conclusions. Your cheeks begin to flame, and you have to stop yourself from awkwardly laughing.

"I'm actually heading off now," you mumble, getting to your feet. The last thing you need is yet another thing for Yoongi to hold against you.

You like to tell yourself it's the whole nepotism thing - and honestly, it's an undeniable part of his disdain for you lately.

But you also know it's something more.

See, there are two things you and Yoongi will never speak of.

The first is your twenty-third birthday party, and the bath debacle that came with it. It was harmless, and he wasn't the only one there - Jimin and Jungkook played their part too - but it's an avoided topic to preserve your dignity more than anything else.

The second thing you will never discuss is the night that never was. The one you both agreed never happened.

When he looks at you, you know he's thinking about it.

But it's your best-kept secret, and you'd quite like to keep it that way, so you make your excuses and leave. Jungkook says bye, and that he'll text later. Yoongi doesn't even really look at you as you leave.

There's a momentum to your heartbeat as you leave the building, your staff pass beeping like a hospital monitor as you go through security. There's a buzz in your back pocket as soon as you're through the doors - not the kind you long for from your Damocles boy, but a just regular kakaotalk message.

When you pull up your phone and see his name, you're surprised, but also a little concerned. You wait until you're at the bus stop to check his messages - and when you do, you wish you never did.

Yoongi (personal): I've said the same to Jungkook as I'm gonna say to you. Think about it from Jin's perspective.

You can't help but laugh at his sheer audacity. Of all people, Yoongi has absolutely no right to berate you, nor your choices. He's completely missed the mark of the relationship between you and Jungkook - and he's really in no place to judge. No place at all.

And so you tell him as such.

You: Not really sure what you're getting at But tell me, Yoongi, did you think about it from Jin's perspective?

You know better than to mention the night that never was. Neither of you have spoken about it for months - a full year, almost - but he deserves to think about it if he's going to be a prick. Deserves to remember. Deserves to have it linger.

You watch as your messages are marked as 'read', and then you mute your notifications from him. How he thinks he has any right to police what you do - and who you do it with - infuriates you. Why waste your time, though? He's been nothing but an absolute arse to you over the past couple of months. Nothing will change it.

The frustration in your mind has you wanting to watch the world roll by. You let the bus you usually board roll on by, opting for the longer route instead. It won't come for another few minutes, but it's not so bad out today. The weather is bearable.

It's as you're waiting - a face of thunder and scowl foul enough to rival even Yoongi's on a bad day - that your phone buzzes. The corner of your lips curl. Cheeks turn pink. It vibrates again. And a third time.

So even though you mentally scold yourself for not waiting until you get home, you find yourself unlocking your phone and heading to Hush.

And sure enough, there he is.

D4m0cl3s: working late tonight

The second message is a picture. Has you gasping. It's a pair of dark trousers, unbuckled, zip down, but still in place - pushed open enough for you to see the thick outline of a bulge in white Calvins.

D4m0cl3s: thinking about you x

A soft laugh escapes your lips, and you forget all about your bad mood.

You reply, a grin on your face so large that you think it could rival a Cheshire cat.

Cl3m3ntin3: and they say romance is dead?? ♡♡

He replies instantly.

D4m0cl3s: i'm not trying to romance you, clem i'm trying to seduce you :) is it working? Cl3m3ntin3: no x D4m0cl3s: what about now??

The picture he sends through is obscene. Belongs in the centrefold of a top shelf magazine. Has you fucking drooling, a light whimper escaping your lips. The harsh wind of a taxi storming by reminds you that you're in public. You look over your shoulder to make sure there's no one walking by - not because you don't want to get caught looking at it, but so you can oogle at it for a little bit longer.

His fingers are wrapped around his thick cock, his grip tight. Like, real fucking tight. His foreskin is pulled down, and there's a small pool of thick precum glistening on his tip. It's so minimal, but so central to the photo that you know it's the main focus. He's letting you know just how horny he is, just how ready he is to fuck himself into you - and he's hoping that your pussy will be leaking like that, too.

Cl3m3ntin3: i'm on my way home can you wait for like 20 minutes? D4m0cl3s: i've got all night, clem take your time i'll be waiting for you Cl3m3ntin3: be home soooooon D4m0cl3s: travel safe, clemmie x Cl3m3ntin3: simp.

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