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trivia-yandere · 1 month ago

Note

can we get a story with jungkook or yoongi or any of the members, with them saying, "you're such a handful." and then we say, "good thing you have two hands."

that concept could literally mean anything...and since im a yandere account...god damnit im in!

a man's world

you've been living in a man's world so long that you forgotten what it was like to just be a woman living in it.

word count: 10.172

warning: smut, character deaths, oral sex, fingering, dry humping, kissing, blood, torturing lolz, a bit yandere tendencies not too too much, but like yoongi's obsessed with the mc so, nipple sucking/pinching, impregnation kink, squirting, orgasm, unprotected sex, praising, ass-slapping, cowgirl position, overstimulation, creampie,

Though you can’t hear it, you can feel the way your heels click against the floor. The music is blaring loudly inside the club and it causes you to snarl. It was too humid, smelt of cheap perfume, alcohol and sex. You were too high end to be caught in a club like this, you think. You notice it by the way your eyes meet countless men who don’t know who you are, their eyes roaming your body as if they had a chance.

“You can’t go back there.”

There’s a hand on your bicep that stops you and almost instantly you yank it away. You hold your purse closer to you, your head whipping around to find a tall man staring down at you. His eyes are dark and he’s glaring.

“Back there,” the man juts his head towards the long hallway in the back of the crowded club. “is for employee’s only.”

“I’m well aware.” you snap back. “Where’s your boss?”

The man’s eyes narrow. “Not in.”

“Bullshit.” you snicker. You were growing irritated by the second. You didn’t have time to sit and chit chat with the less than.

You spin on your heels and venture down the hallway, the man hot on your trail. You are well familiar with this club and know down the hall to the right is where you’d find exactly who you were looking for. Your hand wraps around the knob and you slam it open. Just as you walk in, the man grasps you by your arm once more and yanks you back.

Yoongi watches as your free arm reaches back and punches Haru right between the eyes. The man, tall and bulky, stumbles back in shock. His lip twitches as he watches you continue to hit the tall man who is far too stunned to initially speak. He’s seated at his desk, cigarette between his fingers. Your scream, mixed with the music coming from down the hall, is echoing off of his walls.

“You stupid bitch-”

Though you were well-trained since a child alongside the very man you come to see - and more - you still had a bit of a disadvantage. You were told that men were naturally stronger than women and by the look in Haru’s eyes, he was done being nice with you. His fist tightens and before he has the chance to do anything, there’s a gunshot that rings through the air.

Haru gasps, a stinging in his shoulder. He falls back against the door, his hand clenching the gunshot wound that’s now oozing blood. You stand a bit straighter, rolling your eyes.

Yoongi’s right hand has his gun pointed in the air when you turn to meet his gaze. His cigarette hangs lazily from his lips, dark eyes meeting yours.

Footsteps gather in the hallway as Haru begins to sob. Soon, familiar faces crowd the room.

“What the fuck?”

Jungkook looks between you and Yoongi and immediately he has a clue.

“I thought we had rules?”

Jimin’s arms are crossed as he steps into the room. Haru is bleeding out and he couldn’t care less.

“Y/N.” Jimin nods his head towards you. “What a pleasure.”

“Can we get someone to get him out of here?” Jin sounds disgusted. “He’s bleeding all over the floor and I don’t like the smell of iron.”

Yoongi drops his gun onto the table and proceeds to take his seat at the desk.

“Ah, isn’t it the infamous Y/N.” Taehyung leans against the open door. “What is it this time, hyung? Did Haru try to get with her?” he snickers. His eyes look down the hall. “Take him somewhere, please. He’s annoying me with all that whimpering he’s doing.”

Yoongi exhales the smoke from his nose, eyes darting around the room.

“He was going to hit her.” Yoongi answers coolly.

Jungkook furrows his brows, but he remains quiet. You were a woman, sure, but he’s watched you take down men bigger than Haru before. You weren’t the primadonna Yoongi treats you at times.

“Y/N, what can I help you with?” Yoongi questions, his attention turning to you. “Drink?”

“I suppose I’ll take my leave.” Jimin announces. Whatever you wanted - especially if you came to Yoongi solely and not all of them - meant that it wasn’ for his ears. “I have inventory to take care of.”

The room is silent once more as Jin was the last to leave, closing the door behind him. Yoongi awaits your response, pouring you a glass of whisky to match his own. He motions for you to sit in the seat across from him, his cigarette smoke dancing in the air.

You drop your purse on the desk, uncaring if a few items drop due to the weight of it. Your eyes are hard and glaring and with that, excitement runs through Yoongi’s body.

“My men,” you begin, voice cold and laced with venom. “are dead.”

Yoongi picks up the glass and places it against his lips. He takes a sip, eyes watching you. “And you’re telling me…because?” he murmurs a response before taking a sip.

Instantly, your hand slaps the glass out of Yoongi’s palm. It crashes against a nearby wall, sending liquid flying everywhere.

“My men are dead and I know you motherfuckers-”

Yoongi stands, his chair scraping against the floor. His face comes closer to yours, so close that you can smell the liquor already on his breath.

“Bangtan didn’t kill your men, Y/N.” Yoongi hisses.

“Bull. Shit.” your teeth grits.

You were only 21 when you inherited this empire from your father - much to your dismay and possibly that of those working for him. You weren’t a man, you always heard. This was a man’s world you were in - the drugs, the trafficking, the murder. A woman didn’t belong in it, and yet it all belonged to you now.

Your father didn’t have any more children after you. You often thought about how easier your life would be if you were a boy growing up. You didn’t have time to think about what the other girls did growing up - the birthday parties with friends, sleepovers. You didn’t attend a school so those homecomings or prom you’d see on T.V. weren’t for you. The birthday party you begged your father to give you were littering with the same gang members, murderers and drug traffickers you grew up alongside.

Now here you stand, years later. A shell of your former self. You contemplate if you lack the natural empathy and softness you witness other women have. As a child, you told yourself by this age, you’d be married with kids - not leading a syndicate. Marriage and children appeared to be out of the question as you couldn’t stand a man for longer than 3 minutes - the misogyny, the audacity and overall incompetence.

“Bangtan and Deathrow,” you roll your eyes; partly because you hated the family names chosen by people who were dead now. “for years now we have been rivals. However,” Yoongi’s pink tongue coats his lips. “we have never harmed you or your men.”

You inhale deeply. You stretch the kink in your neck before responding. “Deathrow and Bangtan are the only families that run anything around here.” you grit. “And I have a dozen dead bodies and no one to account for them.”

Yoongi’s eyes glances down to your own lips. He’s fascinated that even when you surround yourself with such heinous activities, you haven’t given yourself up. The heels, the light makeup, and not a single hair out of place.

Yoongi was also a bit drunk and he shouldn’t be growing hard right now - especially not when you’re glaring daggers at him.

“You know I wouldn’t do anything to hurt you.” Yoongi’s voice softens a bit.

Your eyes glance away.

Things were complicated when it came to you and Yoongi - or the rest of them. While Yoongi had 6 other people to rely on with equal responsibility, you only had yourself. You couldn’t afford to have a day off when you had everything your own family has worked hard for on the line. The people who worked under you had their own mouths to feed and juggling it all was far too much for one person to handle.

The feud between Deathrow and Bangtan was once a partnership. You grew up alongside Yoongi and the rest of them. Jungkook is just a couple years younger than you. You recall the way you would wrestle with him in your youth. It was Hoseok who showed you how to shoot a gun for the first time and you trained alongside him instead of you both attending middle school.

The rivalry began with an unknown traitor that divided both sides and though you remained cordial with the boys, now men, you grew up alongside, it was evident where your loyalty and theirs must lie.

“You got my birthday gift.” Yoongi states. His eyes almost didn’t catch it, but you’re wearing the necklace around your neck. The diamond-studded chair with an oval-cut gemstone; your birthstone. It was a gift he had sent to you on your birthday and though he had not expected you to say anything in return, he had hoped you kept it.

Your body warms at the realization that you hadn’t taken off the necklace prior to coming. You swallow a bit, your throat aching.

Yoongi rounds the corner of his desk warily. He would never hurt you and he doubts you would either, but he doesn’t know where your mind is now and he doesn’t want to set you off.

“There’s been a little trouble around here, as well.” Yoongi murmurs. His hand touches your arm, slightly bringing you closer to him. “A few of our own men have died. It seems we may have a bit of competition.”

The scar on Yoongi’s right eye is the constant reminder of the history you and he shared. Without thinking of your actions, your hands lift to touch Yoongi’s cheek. Your fingers slide across the long, red scar, the memories of that time flooding back to you. The way Yoongi’s lips pressed against your warm skin, his large hands sliding up your sides. Those same lips kissing down your chest, to your stomach and right between your legs. His tongue flickers between your folds, his fingers diving right into you and pumping in a way that only he knows how.

Then, the memories come crashing down. Your bedroom door crashes open and you’re forced to cover your naked body. Your father doesn’t bother to look down at you and instead focuses his entire attention to Yoongi, men surrounding your bedroom and making their way towards Yoongi.

“What do you want me to do?” Yoongi asks. His larger hand places itself over your hand. It causes you to come back to reality - the present.

You blink, removing your hand from his face. Yoongi doesn’t like it; he feels a breeze run through him.

“I want you to find out who killed my men.” you say, voice hardening. “And take them out.”

Yoongi furrows his brows, a smirk forming onto his lips. He tilts his head at you. You were so cute when you demanded bloodshed.

“You’re too beautiful to be running a syndicate, Y/N.” Yoongi tells you. He has the urge to hold you like he used to, but he holds himself back. “You deserve to be doted on.”

“Stop fucking playing with me, Yoongi.” you hiss, eyes darkening. “I have product to move and the men that were supposed to do that are being buried. I have to make arrangements for their families. My fucking product-”

“Is it stolen? Ours, as well.” Yoongi quips.

“-and I don’t have time for you to be fucking flirting with me!”

Yoongi cracks a smile and instantly, your hands crash against his chest.You shove him as hard as you could.

“Yoongi-”

“Your issue isn’t with me, Y/N.” Yoongi embraces you, unphased by your outburst. “You and I have a common enemy.”

Yoongi’s cologne is citrusy and musk and instantly you calm down. You want to melt in his arms and have your worries go away, but you cannot.

“Why won’t you let me help you?” Yoongi questions.

“I came here for your help.” you whisper - and he has to know how difficult it was for you to do this.

“I know. That isn’t what I meant.” Yoongi holds you closer. He doesn’t want to let you go - not like he was forced to. His eyes peer into yours. “You’re stressed and you’re doing it all alone. Let me help you.” he murmurs. “Let us help you.”

Yoongi’s nose is tickling yours and his lips are only a breath away. You’ve once again found yourself in this predicament; right in his arms. You inhale his scent once more and then sigh.

“I missed you.” Yoongi speaks.

“I didn’t come here for that.”

“I know.” Yoongi grins. “You come to use me like you always do.”

You’re silent, eyes unblinking as you look at Yoongi.

“That’s what you do. You come in here and demand something because you know I’ll do whatever you ask.” Yoongi continues. His arms tighten around your embrace.

“So…I’m a user?” you snort with a roll of your eyes.

“No.” Yoongi shakes his head. “I’m a man and I’m supposed to be a provider.”

You’re quiet.

“And I’ll keep providing for you, Y/N…all you have to do is let me.”

Yoongi’s lips are soft and you instantly melt against them. You’re unsure how much you truly missed him until you finally had him in your hands. The years you’ve gone by keeping him at a distance has led him to this very moment now.

Yoongi doesn’t care about anything on his desk anymore. He gladly hoists you up onto the desk and forces your legs apart, your skirt rising up. His tongue dances around with yours, large hands cupping your hips to assure you remain close.

It takes Yoongi forever to remove his lips from yours, but when he does it only trails down the side of your face to your jaw, then chin. Your breathing increases as he reaches your neck. His warm tongue circles the nape of your neck, a low groan coming from his throat.

“Y/N…”

Your breathing hitches at the sound of your name coming from Yoongi’s lips - so deep and vulnerable, yet dripping with years full of lust.

“What do you want from me, Yoon?”

Yoon, you haven’t called him that in years.

“You know what I want.” Did you?

Your legs tighten around Yoongi’s waist, bringing him closer. You can feel him melt in your embrace. As much as you try to hide it, there isn’t a point in lying to yourself in saying that you didn’t want Yoongi, either. You missed his hands on you; touching you in ways only he knew how to.

“I’ll give you what you want,” you sigh, your hands on his shoulders squeezing. You can feel Yoongi’s bulge right at your core. You roll your hips just to tease him. “find out who’s behind our missing product.”

Yoongi inhales deeply for a moment, eyes squeezed shut. He was going to do what you asked of him, regardless if he was involved or not. It’s what he always did for you, no matter the rivalry between both families. “You’re such a handful.” Yoongi exhales, yet he wouldn’t have you any other way.

“Good thing you have two hands.”

With the same two hands, Yoongi had worked overtime. It took a week for him to find out just who was behind it, but there wasn’t a time limit. In the meantime, he had allowed you to borrow some of his men to move your product - an action that would’ve been frowned upon if he wasn’t who he was in the family.

Jin watches amused with how ruthless Yoongi could be when it comes to you. The man, often lazy and would rather sit behind the scenes and direct others to do his work, was now getting his own hands dirty. That’s what Hoseok and Jungkook were for, yet he joins the younger men just because you asked him to.

“To think it’s been…” Jimin does the math in his head. “...what? Six years?” he asks Jin. He assembles the stolen drugs into duffle bags.

“Just about.” Jin responds, the screaming of the tortured man nothing but background noise.

Six years since Yoongi and you were…anything. It was evident that Yoongi had set his sight on you since youth; silently, of course. He lingered around you for too long for anyone to not get the hint. It only increased as you grew older and grew into your own feminine figure that Yoongi found himself having to show others that he was serious about courting you.

That meant shooting someone right in the leg - but other’s got the point. The downfall of Bangtan and Deathrow only meant the downfall of you and Yoongi’s relationship; he grew grumpier, more silent and care little about anything unless it directly involved you.

“We need to get information from him, hyung,” Jungkook sighs, watching the way Yoongi appears to leave the man's head underneath the running water far too long. “not just torture him.”

“He’s probably intimidated since it’s three of us.” Hoseok calls, leaning against the wall.

“Probably.” Yoongi calls. He shuts off the water and turns his sights to Jungkook and Hoseok. “Get the rest of the drugs and weapons and load them in the truck.”

Hoseok knits his brows. “But-”

“Fine.” Jungkook shrugs, locking eyes with Hoseok. There wasn’t a point in arguing with Yoongi now. He know just as well as the rest of them that he was going to stop; his adoration for you far exceeded his own sanity.

Once alone, Yoongi shoves the man back into the seat. He grabs his pocket knife and undoes the robe around one wrist. He then slams it against the table. “Okay,” Yoongi murmurs, dark eyes locking in with terrified ones. “I want all the names that were in charge of the job.”

The man shakes his head. “Please-”

“It wasn’t a choice.” Yoongi snickers. “You…upset someone I care about.” the cold metal of the plastic knife presses against the man's cheek. “And I’m going to right this wrong, okay? Now right before one of them died, they said it was around five of them.”

Yoongi removes the knife from the terrified man’s cheek and proceeds to place it against the man’s thumb. “You have five fingers. Let’s count down the names, shall we?”

“P-Please, I don’t know-”

A blood curdling scream echoes off of the walls. Blood shoots out from the man's thumb, painting the wooden table crimson.

“Name’s.” Yoongi deadpans. He’s already making his way towards the index.

“Wu-”

Index finger is the next to go - only because he was sick of playing games.

“Shinra!” the man suddenly belts, the veins on his neck pulsing at losing another finger.

Yoongi is covered in blood by the time he’s done, but he’s satisfied. He would never consider himself blood thirsty. He hated getting dirty. Jungkook and Hoseok were always on this type of job - but if it was something you’d ask him to do (and you had) he had no issues.

“There has to be another way, hyung.” Jungkook says as Yoongi emerges, soaked in blood. “Flowers or something. You’re covered in blood.”

“Y/N isn’t exactly a normal woman, now is she?” Jin calls from outside. He slams the trunk close. “Though I don’t think she called for so much blood shed.”

Of course, however, Yoongi wasn’t going to listen. He was told to handle the problem and the only way he knew how was bloodshed.

“Who’s coming with me?” Yoongi questions.

“Now?” Jungkook lifts his brows. “You don’t want to change first?”

“No.” Yoongi deadpans, his eyes narrowing. He glances around to the faces of his brothers. “Why are you all looking at me like that?”

“Have you asked for anything in return of Y/N yet?” Jin asks. “Don’t you think you need a little…more?” Yoongi swallows. He shrugs his shoulders.

“There can’t be any rivalry, anymore. Not on Bangtans end, right?” Jimin shrugs his shoulders. “Why not join forces again? It would save all of us a headache.”

“And Y/N could relax, as well. She’ll have our help and won't have to lead alone.”

The quiet part doesn’t need to be said aloud, Jin thinks. Having you closer meant that Yoongi would be more at ease.

“I have plans.” Yoongi answers. “You know I cannot go to Y/N empty handed. I have to do what she asks first.”

“Of course.” Jimin shrugs one shoulder. “Do you need any more help, hyung?”

Yoongi shakes his head. “I’ll deal with the rest alone. We should get whatever product we have back to the warehouse.”

“I agree.” Hoseok nods. “Bangtan and Death Row nearly lost millions in profit because of…what do they call themselves?”

“Who cares?” Yoongi snorted - because after today, there wouldn’t be any of them standing to utter their name.

Yoongi’s seats are leather and of course the blood would surely stain them, but he doesn’t care. He could get another car if it came down to it. He was on a mission; a hunt. He wouldn’t go back to you empty handed like he promised and he has five names on the list who he had to deal with prior to returning to you.

You know of Yoongi’s presence immediately. You hadn’t talked to him much in the week that it took for him to handle the problem. Your driveway is long and it allows you enough time to walk down the staircase and meet him at the door after you buzz him in.

From the large, oval-shaped window you can see Yoongi get out of the SUV, door slamming behind him. He appears relaxed, glasses over his eyes. There’s a breeze in the air that causes his dark tresses to dance in it. It’s nearly an hour before sunset and Yoongi’s skin glows beneath the orangey tint that makes your heart leap.

Your eyes tear away as he begins to gather something from his passenger seat. Your eyes turn to the large mirror in your foyer and ponder if what you were wearing was appropriate. This was Yoongi, after all, and though it’s been years, he’s seen it all already. That, and you weren’t exactly expecting him tonight so the nightgown shouldn’t appear as trying too hard.

You meet Yoongi at the door, opening it just wide enough for you to see him and vice versa.

“Y/N.”

“Yoongi.” you respond. “You could’ve had me meet you at the warehouse.”

Yoongi knows you aren’t upset with his presence here. Your eyes glance down to his hands, now noticing his left is holding a small, leather bag and his right a bouquet of flowers.

Glancing back up at Yoongi, you furrow your brows.

“Can I come in?” Yoongi asks, voice cool and relaxed.

You open the door wider and Yoongi takes his invitation. As the door closes behind him, Yoongi turns to face you. Your nightgown is black and silk and he notices it hugs your curves perfectly, but he didn’t come here to dwell.

“Why are you holding flowers?”

Yoongi holds out the bouquet for you, his own eyes matching the stoicness of your own.

Your hands are trembling when you grasp them, an embarrassed jolt flowing through your body. You avoid his gaze.

“I handled our problem.” Yoongi speaks first. He lifts the small, leather bag and holds it with both hands. He slowly opens it - as if to build tension and anticipation. “And they are no longer a threat.”

Yoongi doesn’t care for these men, but you were an empathetic person. He knows you’d want to know more about these men, and what better way than to find out who they truly were than by checking their fingerprints?

Severed thumbs sit inside the small bag right on top of ice. You could laugh right now at how cheesy Yoongi can be at times. Slowly, he closes the bag and tilts his head.

“They’re a small organization that holds no real power.” Yoongi goes on.

“Are they dead or just missing fingers?”

You’re positive you know the answer. Yoongi wasn’t one to allow anyone to walk free - especially if it concerned you.

“Dead.” Yoongi shrugs. There’s a small table in the foyer that Yoongi places the bag on. His eyes meet yours and a smile appears on his lips. “You’re still wearing the necklace.”

Your palms squeeze the bouquet. Licking your lips, you shrug. “It was a gift, was it not?”

You turn on your heels, making your way the opposite way and towards the kitchen. Yoongi follows you, allowing his eyes to wander your body freely as now it was just you and him.

You had a vase around here somewhere so you can put these flowers in.

“I suppose I owe you.” you say over the running water. You can feel Yoongi’s eyes on you right now and there’s a bit of excitement that runs through you.

“Do you?”

You turn the water off and turn around, vase in hand. You go towards the island and begin to place the bouquet of flowers, one by one inside the vase. Yoongi notices a small grin on your lips as you assemble them to your liking.

“You still like sunflowers.” Yoongi notes. “I’m glad that hasn’t changed.”

Yoongi recalls the time you said that you didn’t prefer roses as they were often clique. Yet, you also never received flowers before as you weren’t in the lifestyle to receive them from anyone - not unless it was on a gravestone. But you stated that if anything, you’d prefer sunflowers.

Your hands slide off of the bouquet and you face him. Yoongi is watching you watch him. “I haven’t thanked you.” you murmur softly. “Thank you.”

“You don’t need to.”

You step closer, wrapping your arms around his shoulders. He must’ve showered right before coming here as he smells entirely too clean; not a complaint in the slightest.

“Of course I do.” you murmur. “You helped me with my problem.”

“You knew I would. That’s why you came to me.”

You don’t need to respond as he was correct. You always knew Yoongi would do what you ask - which made going to him easier for you. It was a guarantee that he would get it done with no questions asked; everytime.

“How long can you stay?” you question, eyes blinking up at him. Your fingers dance on the back of his neck softly.

“However long you’d have me.” Yoongi hums, his nose touching yours. ”What are you trying to give me?”

You swallow, lifting so your lips were ghosting his. “Whatever you want.” you murmur.

“Whatever?”

You nod your head, eyes slowly closing. You’re expecting his lips to meet yours in the same passionate kiss you and he shared a week prior. Instead, Yoongi pushes himself away from you, his warmth immediately gone.

Slowly, your eyes open to find Yoongi going through his pant pockets. “Yoon-”

Your mouth immediately shuts when Yoongi’s fingers take out a small, square box. He opens it, the diamond ring shining back at you. It’s oval cut with surrounding smaller rings around the base.

“What the fuck are you doing?” you hiss as Yoongi begins to lower to his knee. “Get up.”

“What?” Yoongi furrows a brow. “Why? Isn’t this what girls typically want?”

Your eyes widen and you stare at Yoongi as if he’s insane. He had to be.

“You thought I wanted you to get on your fucking knees with a ring?!”

Yoongi blinks.

You jerk your neck, waiting for a response.

“Y/N,” Yoongi coughs, cheeks dusting red. “will you-”

“No!” you hiss, your hands forming fists and body heating up. You yank Yoongi’s shoulders and force him onto his feet. “What-”

“I was trying to be romantic.” Yoongi snaps the ring box close and sighs. “Jin told me-”

“Your first mistake was listening to Jin.” you grumble with rolled eyes.

“My first mistake was assuming you’d listen to me.” Yoongi retorts. “I don’t want to just fuck you as payment, Y/N. You aren’t some whore.”

You were growing nervous underneath Yoongi’s gaze.

“I want Bangtan and Death Row to be allies again.” Yoongi continues. “I want us,” he waves his hands between the two of you. “to be…more.”

“There is no us.”

Yoongi doesn’t blink when the words leave your mouth, but he visibly stiffens.

“There can’t be.”

“Why not?” Yoongi protests. “Am I not good enough for you? I’m only good when you want to use me?”

You’re taken aback by the venom in Yoongi’s voice. He never spoke to you in such a tone.

“Do you not know how many men I’ve killed for you?” Yoongi hisses. “I drop whatever I’m doing to come to your beck and call and you’re going to tell me that there isn’t anything between us? That there can’t be?”

You’re unsure how to respond, but Yoongi is already stepping closer. His presence, until now, has never been threatening to you. His eyes are wide and angered and they’re directed towards you.

“It’s not you-”

“If you say it’s not you, it’s me,” Yoongi chuckles bitterly. “I might just scream.”

“It is me, Yoon.” you hiss. “I…you want me to be a fucking housewife. I don’t even know how to cook-”

“I do.” Yoongi shrugs. “Do you think I don’t have enough money for a private chef?” he scoffs.

You bite the inside of your lip.

“I…I don’t even clean-”

“Isn’t that what’s the maid for?” Yoongi shrugs his shoulders again. He wasn’t going to allow you to excuse yourself from anything you’d say.

“I-”

“I don’t care what you can or cannot do, Y/N.” Yoongi interrupts. “Have I not proved myself worthy to you for years now?”

“It’s not about…” you trail off, closing your eyes and letting out a soft sigh. “...you know it isn’t about that.”

“Then please enlighten me, Y/N.” Yoongi’s frustration was seeping through. He felt as though his head was going to explode. “You know how I feel about you. You know I love you.”

Your eyes flutter open to look at Yoongi’s. His stoic eyes stare right back at you.

“You know I love you.” Yoongi repeats, voice softening. “So why won’t you allow me to take care of you? You don’t even want to do all of this.”

Yoongi knows you like the back of his hand. He understands that you were brought into this life to one day take over an entire syndicate, even if it wasn’t something you wanted. Your father’s death came entirely too sudden and overnight, you had to grow up and handle it all. But he knows the real you.

“You think jumping straight to marriage is what I want?” you couldn’t help but snicker.

Yoongi straightens his shoulders. “Probably not.” he admits, shrugging a bit. “You told me that you wanted to be married before.”

“When I was a dumb teenager?” your lip twitches. “I-”

“You told me you wanted to go on a date and experience a normal life. Outside of this.” Yoongi interrupts. “So let’s do it.”

“Do what?” You blink.

“Go…on a date?” Yoongi clears his throat. There’s a tint of redness forming onto his cheeks.

“You’ve never asked a girl on a date before, have you?” you scoff, but you’d be lying if you said your own cheeks weren’t warm.

“And you’ve never been asked on a date.” Yoongi retorts, a grin forming onto his lips. “So we’re one of the same.”

For a moment, you and Yoongi are silent as the two of you stare at one another. Your body is warm, your heart fluttering stupidly like it had when you were a teenager whenever Yoongi was around. It involved sneaking around a lot to assure your father never caught on to what you were doing.

You bite your lip, taking a deep breath. What could go wrong?

“I guess…a date wouldn’t hurt.” you murmur.

“Good.” Yoongi couldn’t help the smile that forms onto his lips. “How about now?”

“Now?” your eyebrows lift. That didn’t give you enough time to procrastinate in your closet if Yoongi was already here waiting for you.

“What could go wrong?”

Turns out, a lot could go wrong on a date.

For normal people, a lot could’ve been the restaurant being booked for hours. Or traffic. Maybe even cancelling on the other person.

However, you and Yoongi weren’t normal people. A normal dinner date turned into an ambush entirely, bullets flying past the two of you in such rapid speed that it took a second too long for Yoongi to even be prepared for it.

“It’s just my shoulder.” Yoongi grunts, a hand against his bleeding wound. He was breathing heavily, his right hand - the same side he was just shot in - currently holds the gun.

“I fucking hate you.” you seeth at Yoongi, a look of pure panic on your face. Your own heart was beating rapidly and tears brimmed your eyes. “I told you I should have brought my gun you idiot-”

Another shot rings out, this time from Yoongi. You’re unsure how he’s managing to still fire from behind the car while bleeding out.

It was Yoongi’s idea for you to not bring your own protection for once. He stated that you wouldn’t need it - an attempt to slowly wean you off of your mafiosa lifestyle that you were born into. Now you were regretting believing his words - not because you never felt safe around Yoongi, but it was also about helping Yoongi when he was in need.

“Give me the gun.” you demand, wiping your pathetic tears away. Why were you on the verge of crying when you were you?

Yoongi glances at you, frown deepening.

“Y/N-”

“I wasn’t asking.” you hiss. Yoongi had managed to take down two men, but there were still two left sending out shots - and you were beyond pissed.

Yoongi hands you his gun with a stoic expression. You had sense called your own men for backup and knowing Bangtan, they weren’t far behind. You are unaware if the men that ambushed you had more on the way and quite frankly, you didn’t want to stay to find out.

You’re crouching around the car, gun in your hands. Your eyes zone in on one man behind another car, his eyes set on where Yoongi is behind his car, waiting for another shot to give out.

You scoff, raising your gun and closing one eye before shooting. The bullet shoots right through his head, blood splattering as his body falls limp.

“You assholes ruined my fucking date!” you hiss angrily, aiming the gun at the other shooter, hitting him right in the shoulder. As his gun drops, you rise to your feet and begin to storm towards him.

Yoongi wouldn’t consider himself a completely dominant man. He was alright with having a woman by his side as an equal - a woman like you. You knew how to lead just as much as he did. His eyes watch the way your heels click against the concrete as you storm towards the huffing, bleeding man. Your eyes are glaring directly at him, hand pointing the gun right into his face.

“Please-”

Yoongi jerks when the gun slams against the man's face and he’s sent flying against the concrete. His breathing increased - this wasn’t the time. His pants grow tight as he watches you continue to slam your gun against his face. He licks his lips at how amazing your legs looked from here - how your dress makes your ass appear even greater.

Yoongi exhales, getting up from leaning against his car and making his way towards you. His shoulder is throbbing and he was bleeding at an alarming pace but it was nothing he’s never felt before.

“Who,” SLAM. “the fuck” SLAM. “are you” SLAM. SLAM. “working for!”

Blood shoots from the man's mouth and Yoongi is close enough to wrap a hand onto your waist.

“If you keep beating him he won’t be able to talk.” Yoongi murmurs, but he admits you look entirely beautiful when you are aggressively upset. “Hoseok can’t be far. Him and Jungkook would get the information out of him.”

“Fuck.” you hiss one last time before slamming the gun against the man's already bloodied and bruised face. “We gotta stop the bleeding-”

“I’m fine.” Yoongi shakes his head with a shrug of his shoulders.

“You’re obviously not fine, Yoongi.” you deadpan, turning to him. “I can see the blood dripping from your shoulder. Do I look like an idiot?”

Yoongi’s lip twitches and he holds back a laugh. He doesn’t want to appear as if he was taking you for a joke - he wasn’t.

Tires squeal to a stop and Yoongi turns his head to the sound of it. Just as Hoseok and Jungkook arrive, so do a few of your own men.

“What do we have here?” Hoseok asks, slamming his car door open and his eyes roam around the bloodied scene.

“Looks like we have a bigger problem than stolen product.” Jungkook answers. He’s holding rope in his hands.

“Miss.”

One of your men come besides you, his eyes examining you. ‘“Are you alright?”

“Yeah.” you murmur. Jungkook was wrapping the man - who’s in and out of consciousness, with the rope. “Clean this mess up.” you say, putting Yoongi’s gun back on safety. “And figure out who these motherfuckers are. Immediately.”

“Yes.”

Yoongi swallows, his eyes roaming to the way your hips sway as you walk towards his car and open the backseat. You’re ripping apart your own cardigan for him to wrap his shoulder for the time being.

Yoongi watches you as you walk back towards him, taking the ripped cloth towards his shoulder. He’s silent, but he’s upset that the date has been ruined. For the first time, you and he had the chance to be normal for a few hours - and it was ruined by reality.

“I’m sorry.”

Your eyes glance up at Yoongi as you tighten the cloth underneath his arm pit. He was lucky that the bullet didn’t penetrate through.

“Why are you apologizing for being shot?” you murmur. Hoseok and Jungkook had speeded down the road and your men were in the middle of cleaning the mess.

“I wanted for us to go on a date.” Yoongi snickers. “And be normal for once in our lives.”

“It isn’t your fault that we’ve made enemies.” you pat his shoulder gently, your lips forming a small grin. “It comes with the job.”

Yoongi’s tongue coats his lips, feline-like eyes watching you still. “You’re very beautiful, Y/N.” he says, tone deep. “Especially when you’re angry.”

You roll your eyes. “Pull yourself together, Yoongi.” you say. “You’re the only man that gets horny after being shot.”

“Ignore the fact that a bullet grazed me.” Yoongi says. He begins to follow you back to his car. “And concentrate on the fact that I can appreciate the way you handle a gun and beat up men.”

Yoongi rounds the corner to plop down into the driver seat. He notices your eyes on him. You want to speak up and offer to drive, but you don’t - you know he’s going to deny it.

Within a half an hour, you and Yoongi are back in your home. You have him seated on your couch while you tend to his wound. Hospitals were always out of the question which is why there were paid medics on hand. Yoongi, however, refused to see anyone. Instead, he’s chugging a bottle of whiskey as you dab a rag soaked in alcohol onto his wound to disinfect it.

“You’ve gotten yourself drunk in under an hour.” you deadpan with a shake of your head.

Yoongi, eyes glossy, tilts his head.

“I wished you would’ve gotten yourself checked out-”

“Y/N,” Yoongi interrupts you. He takes another swig of whiskey, the burning sensation dying down. “will you marry me?”

You dropped the rag onto the couch beside him and sigh. “You’re on that again.”

“I’m not taking no for an answer.” Yoongi grumbles, his eyes squinting at you.

“You’re going to force me into marriage?” You’re amused now. Drunk Yoongi was always funny. His shoulders would relax and he’d let loose more than he was when he was sober.

“Of course not!” Yoongi gasps, then hums. “...I would just keep asking until you said yes.”

Your fingers tap lightly against his shoulder as you smile his way. It causes Yoongi’s heart to jump and he takes another swig of whiskey in an attempt to hide his red cheeks.

“Yoongi…?” you murmur, your fingertips stopping at Yoongi’s neck. He’s warm, and when he feels your fingers against his bare skin, the hair on his body rises.

“Y-Yes?”

Yoongi wants to shoot himself in his good shoulder for stuttering like he was a school boy.

Your fingers dance up the side of his cheek to touch the scar. It’s embedded into his skin, smooth to the touch. “It seems like everytime you’re with me, you get hurt.”

Yoongi craves your touch. He settles his cheek against your palm, glossy eyes watching you.

“Who says I’m hurt?” Yoongi responds.

Your fingers trail along his scar and he recalls the day it happened - the way your father had slashed his eye as a mere warning. He recalls the way he screamed as blood trailed down his face, but even then he didn’t care about the pain that caused the half of his face to throb. He hears your cries and pleads for your father to leave him alone.

“If it means being with you, I take whatever.” Yoongi shrugs.

Your thumb traces Yoongi’s lips now, not realizing just how close you and he are. You missed being this close with him. It reminds you of when you were younger when life was a bit easier.

“What are you scared of exactly?” Yoongi speaks. He softly nuzzles himself closer to you. If he was sober, he would’ve felt a bit of pain coming from his shoulder. “Do you think I cannot protect you? I’ll die-”

“Yoongi, please shut up.” you press your thumb against his lips to silence him. You let out a soft giggle. “Everytime you get drunk, you go into a drunken speech of passion.”

Yoongi makes a sound with his throat.

You sit a bit straighter before going to sit into his lap. Your dress rises up a bit and instantly, Yoongi’s hands place themselves onto your thighs. He rubs his hands against your soft thighs, a low moan coming from his lips.

“We can talk about marriage later.” you say. Your nose rubs against his. “For now, let me thank you.”

Yoongi’s cock is dangerously hard against your clothed pussy. His breathing increases when your lips kiss the corner of his lips, teasing him.

“I know I can be a handful.” you murmur against his skin, your hips rolling.

Your lips press against his softly, but Yoongi is determined to taste you entirely. He deepens it, his nails digging into your hips to keep you perfectly in place. Your lips are so soft and sweet, your gloss tasting like mangos. Your perfumed aroma captivates him entirely and he doesn’t want you to move away from him.

Yoongi’s lips are covered in your gloss when your lips remove to breathe. His lips press against your chin to your jaw.

“It’s okay.” Yoongi kisses along your neck now. “It’s good I have two hands, right?”

The kissing grows heavy. Your hands rub along his chest while his hands roam up and down your sides. Your hips continue to jerk needily to feel more of him.

Yoongi is grateful for the alcohol running through his system so that he could appreciate you fully without feeling any pain. His cock is already painfully erect and waiting to be let free to feel you - but he’ll wait for the right time. His tongue pokes out to run along the smooth skin of your neck, dipping lower and lower.

“I’ve wanted to take this dress off of you since you put it on.” Yoongi says, muffled against your skin. His tongue runs along your collarbone and goes down to your breast.

“You could’ve had me naked hours ago.” you retort, head rolling back when you feel Yoongi’s warm tongue reach your breast. “But you wanted to waste time on a date.”

“It wasn’t a waste of time.” Yoongi retorts. His hands roam upwards to touch the straps of your dress and begin to pull them down. “I want to take you on many dates and show you off. Show everyone who you belong to.”

Yoongi was a possessive person and even without stating it aloud, he has claimed you as his countless times. When the straps fall down, his breath hitches at the sight of your bare breast. Your nipples are erect and both of his large hands grasp them entirely.

“I’m yours?” you scoff, yet you continue to roll your hips. Your right hand places itself above Yoongi’s. “I didn’t agree to marry you.” “You don’t have to.” Yoongi responds quickly. “You can keep denying me, but I’ll never allow another man to have you.”

Yoongi’s tongue wraps onto your erect nipple, rolling it against his tongue. He suckles needily, wishing he could do this forever - be in this blissful scenario where it was just you and him and no one else to interrupt it. Or shoot at him.

“I’ve killed for you already.” Yoongi says when he allows your nipple to pop from his mouth. “If I can’t have you, no one can.”

You bite your lip. That obviously is a red flag in itself. Yoongi had threatened countless men - a part of Bangtan and Deathrow - and had killed for you, both requested or not. If you were a normal girl living a normal life, it would frighten you how obsessive he could be.

But you established that you weren’t normal and neither is he. You were both born into this world of murder, drugs, sex and trafficking - so it excites you that Yoongi doesn’t go down without a fight.

“You can be happy with me.” Yoongi wraps your other nipple into his mouth. He pinches your free nipple between his index and thumb. Your hand roams his dark tresses, keeping him close against your chest. Your pussy is throbbing, Yoongi’s own hips meeting you halfway as you’re grinding.

“I can give you the wedding you wanted. I can give you the babies you’ve talked about.”

Yoongi’s hands wrap around to unzip your dress. He then proceeds to slide it down your bare back, shuddering at your naked skin.

“You’d look so pretty pregnant, Y/N. It’ll be hard to get you to stay at home and not pistol whip anyone,” Yoongi jokes, tugging your dress down. “but it can be done.”

You roll your eyes, but Yoongi’s words cause that familiar throb between your legs.

“You think about getting me pregnant a lot?” you raise a brow.

“Of course I do. Don’t ask me dumb questions.”

Yoongi forces you up to remove your dress. It falls onto the ground by your feet. Your panties are basic cotton grey and it’s easily able to see the wetness right between your legs.

“You’re already so wet, Y/N. Your pussy wants to feel me.”

Yoongi’s cocky, his fingers cupping your pussy entirely to feel just how wet you are. He licks his lips, groaning. “You want to be bred, Y/N. You’re just stubborn.”

Yoongi begins to tug at your panties hastily. His mouth salivates. He hasn’t tasted you in years and being a patient man has done nothing but make him insatiable.

“You want to get me pregnant so bad, Yoongi. You’re a bit too obsessed.”

“You know that, right? Is that why you constantly tease me?” Yoongi dips his fingers between your wet folds. He shakes his head at just how sopping wet you were. “You roll your hips, talk to me a certain way.”

“I talk to you like a dog.” you deadpan, a soft moan releasing immediately after.

“And that’s what I love about you.” Yoongi brings his fingers into his mouth and grunts.

Yoongi pushes you onto the couch and falls onto his knees. He had to taste you.

You yelp when your legs are forced apart and Yoongi immediately begins to devour you. He’s completely starved, having missed your touch and taste for years. He doesn’t care about being quiet - you and he were alone. He suckles and smacks his lips against your wet pussy without a care in the world.

You’re squealing loudly as Yoongi’s head bobs back and forth. Your hand grips his hair, eyes watching as he devours you. His right hand forces your thigh down forcefully. You’re unsure how long you wanted Yoongi between your legs - more ways than one - and having him here now is entirely liberating.

“That feels so good, Yoon.” you whimper, your pussy clenching around nothing. You wished it was stuffed with his cock and he bred you just like he said he wanted to.

Yoongi knows it does. He recalls the times he would eat you out without expecting anything in return - just because he loved the way you tasted and how hard you’d cum from his tongue alone.

Yoongi places two fingers into his mouth for a moment before inching them closer to your hole. His tongue then twirls onto your clit, eyes flickering up to watch your reaction. Your mouth opens in a gasp, back arching a bit.

Your pussy immediately squeezes around his fingers and he begins to pump. His tongue continues to twirl onto your clit for added pleasure, determined in letting you cum.

Your hands grip your breast and your eyes are fluttering close. Your hips grind a bit, thighs shaking.

“Y-Yoon…!”

Yoongi chuckle, lifting from your clit. His lips and chin are coated in your arousal. “Yeah, baby?” he asks, tone sultry. “Does it feel good?”

You nod your head, swallowing.

“Your fingers feel so good.”

Yoongi continues to pump, feline eyes watching your every move. The way you’re gasping every few moments. Your eyes fluttering open and close, your thighs quivering and shaking.

“You’re going to cum already, aren’t you?” Yoongi chuckles a bit, biting his lip. “You’ve been bottling everything up for so long that it only takes you about 5 minutes to cum all over my fingers.”

Fuck Yoongi and the way he was right about you. You had consumed most of your time running Deathrow that you hadn’t allowed yourself any true release. Your fingers could only do so much, and your vibrator could only stay charged for so long. It wasn’t the same as having a man fuck his fingers into you so vigorously - as if he’s getting direct pleasure from it.

“That’s right, baby.” Yoongi marvels at the way your juices coat his palm that he adds another finger. You’re wet, pussy making sloppy squelching sounds. “Cum all over my fingers, Y/N. You’re finally being such a good girl.”

Who knew you had a praise kink?

You let go just as Yoongi intends. You weren’t expecting the pressure from deep within you to be released all over him, shooting out the clear liquid all over him and the floor.

Yoongi chuckles, releasing his fingers from your throbbing pussy. “You made such a mess. I knew you would.”

You bite the inside of your cheek, your chest rising and falling.

“I want to ride you.”

Yoongi’s eyes shoot up at your sudden change of tone. “Oh?”

You nod. You weren’t a rider - you never enjoyed it. Yoong did, however, enjoyed taking the lead. This time you wanted to have a bit of control. You needed to hear him moaning for you; because of something you were doing for him.

Before Yoongi can say anything else - not like he was going to deny you anyways - your hands grasp onto his shirt. You bring him closer to you so you can wrap your legs around his waist and flip him onto his own back.

Yoongi is amused by how easily you handle him. Dare he even say attracted by your sudden actions. You hover above him so you can undo his pants and slide them down to reveal his covered cock. It’s twitching angrily, ready to be set free and taken advantage of by you.

“Your cock is still pretty.” you state when you tug his briefs down. His cock springs out, oozing pre-cum from a pink tip you want to wrap your mouth around. But that’ll wait for another time. You don’t allow Yoongi the time to react before you grab it with your soft, yet firm hand. You center yourself.

“Fuck, hold-”

Yoongi grunts when you sit on him completely. His legs shake a bit at feeling you bare wet pussy squeezing him.

“Oh..shiiit.” Yoongi hisses out. He swallows thickly, his eyes fluttering a bit.

You smirk. Yoongi was a simple man indeed. You’d have to show him what you’d learned over the years - mainly though porn as the thought of being with another man repulsed you. You were a certified man hater unless it was Yoongi; the man that wasn’t officially your man, but still is in theory.

Your feet planted itself onto either side of him and your arms wrapped around his neck. Your hips rise and fall in rhythm, his cock hitting your sweet spot with each bounce.

Yoongi’s large hands immediately fall onto your ass, squeezing them into his palms. He doesn’t care how needy he sounds with his whimpers and moans - he wasn’t embarrassed to show you how good you were. He’s happy that he has the chance to feel you again - the tightness of your pussy, the flesh of your ass. Your breast bounces in his face and the sight is entirely heavenly that if he were to die right now, he would be content.

Content until Yoongi thinks that with him gone, you’d be vulnerable in the world and he immediately takes it back.

“You’re fucking yourself so good, baby.” Yoongi couldn’t help but to slap your ass and then immediately squeeze the flesh as you continued to bounce on his cock. His lips connect to the flesh of your breast, kissing along them as he curses to himself.

“Your cock feels so good, Yoongi.” you moan in his ear. You’re surprised by your own stamina - but having his cock in you after years of denying him for whatever pathetic reason was possibly why. Your pussy clenches and unclenches with each pounce, your clit rubbing against his skin for added friction.

“Yeah?” Yoongi’s teeth grazes your right nipple. “Your tits are so amazing.” he says, finding that your bouncing breast in his face was pure bliss. “I’ve waited so long to feel your pussy around me. You kept teasing me over and over again.”

Another slap onto your ass has you squealing - and clenching. Yoongi does it again to feel your pussy squeeze his cock again; and again and again until you can feel the flesh throbbing.

Yoongi’s hands squeeze your ass to keep you in place, his mouth wrapping onto your nipple. He begins to thrust upwards, pounding into you with such greed. Your skin slapping against his echoes off the high ceilings, your high-pitched squeals added onto that for added flavor.

Yoongi’s eyes flutter upwards, feeling entirely too blissful. His thrusts are powerful - so much so that he needed to feel you deeper.

Yoongi flips you onto your back, slamming you against the leather couch without much warning. He forces your legs apart so he can see just how wet you were for him, dripping all over his cock.

“Look at that.” Yoongi chuckles, continuing his brutal pace.

It’s disrespectful, even, the way Yoongi fucks you. But neither of you care. He plunges his cock so deep into you that you can swear you feel him in your stomach, and even then you’re only begging him for more.

Drunk Yoongi was a different Yoongi, at times - but he was the same man that craved you entirely. His hands - a part of him that you always admired for how large, veiny and beautiful they were, clasp onto your shoulders. His dark eyes stare right into you, pounding his cock in and out of you.

“You’re so d-deep.” you gasp, your toes curling when he hits that same sweet spot that only he could ever reach.

“I gotta be deep if I’m going to get you pregnant.”

Why was that so tempting?

Damn Yoongi and his dirty talk - along with his fucked out expression and deep, husky voice. How could you not want to be bred by him when he looked this good? The scar just added onto his attractiveness.

“I-I’d like that.”

Yoongi groans. “Yeah?” his eyebrows knit. “You want my baby but won’t marry me?”

Yoongi’s hands squeeze your shoulders tighter. Your back arches a bit at the added touch.

“Want my fingers. My tongue. My cock.” One hand lifts from your shoulders to your face, his thumb tracing your lips. “My babies…but won’t give me the satisfaction of marriage.”

You whimper at the familiar bubbling in your stomach.

“Stop-”

Yoongi pushes himself away from you. He’s standing, pulling your body with him so that your lower half is fully in his embrace. He drills into you at the same alarming pace and you’re only forced to watch helplessly moaning.

“Yoon-g-gi!”

Yoongi wasn’t going to spare you - not when you felt so good. Not when you were making such sweet noises.

“Marry me, Y/N.” Yoongi demands, a thumb placing onto your throbbing clit and twirling vigorously. “Whatever you want, you got it. Do I need to kill ten more men for you?”

Your hands squeeze onto nothing. You don’t recall Yoongi being this much of a aggressive fucker but you’d be lying if you said you didn’t love every moment of it.

“Yoon-”

“Yes or no, baby? Don’t you want those babies we talked about?”

You did - damn Yoongi for making you want babies you hadn’t thought about in years.

“They’ll be so cute. I want a little girl just like you to spoil.” Yoongi’s thumb continues to tier; harshly onto your clit.

You squeeze your eyes shut, a loud groan coming from your throat.

“I’m gonna cum,” you gasp out, wanting to squirm away from his possessive embrace.

“Are you going to marry me or not?” Yoongi grumbles, replacing his thumb with four fingers. You were milking his cock so well, arousal dripping from your pussy to your thighs and around his cock. He wished he had a camera to capture such a beautiful moment.

“Yes!”

You were cumming, but Yoongi didn’t care about that right now. You had finally agreed to marry him - and maybe it was the orgasm talking, but he took it serious enough to continue twirling your clit until you’re leaking all over the place. And even then, he continues fucking into your pussy greedily until he’s cumming in you, shooting you with warm ropes of cum.

You’re exhausted at the end of it all - an hour and a half and three orgasms later. Your pussy is leaking cum from Yoongi, who’s insatiable but satiated at the moment. The fucking went from the livingroom, to your bedroom. Your eyelids are heavy and all you wanted to do was sleep.

“Yoongi?”

It was ten minutes later when you spoke to the man. He’s wide away, seemingly coming down from his drunken state.

“Hm?” Yoongi says, cigarette hanging from his lips.

“We should probably talk.”

Your eyes are still closed and your voice is full of sleep.

“Maybe after you’ve rested-”

“Give me the ring.”

Yoongi is silent as he inhales the smoke, the familiar burning sensation hits his throat.

“I’m not going to ask you again.” you say, eyes still closed.

Yoongi does as you say. He had the ring tucked in his jacket pocket just downstairs and when he retrieved it, you held out your hand for him to put it on. Your eyes finally open to inspect the ring and how it looks on your finger.

Yoongi doesn’t speak, and neither do you. It was like that at times with the two of you. Instead of saying anything, you glance at him hovering above you and tuck your hand underneath your face and close your eyes.

What’s understood doesn’t need to be said, but Yoongi can feel the way his heart jolts at the silent agreement.

@sweetempathprunetree @darkuni63 @investedreader @chimmy-licious @minshookie29

#a man's world #trivia-yandere #explicit-tae #yoongi smut #yoongi x reader #bts smut #btswritingcafe #btswriterscollective #bangtanwriters net #bangtan smut #btswritersclub #bangtanwritershq #suga smut #bts mafia #yoongi mafia #Soft yandere yoongi

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komelliko · 4 months ago

Text

manipulative!boss!sunday x timid!secretary!reader

summary: Sunday can no longer control himself around you. He will make his affections known. wc: 1.6k - this is nsfw! cw for dubcon! fingering/dry humping/softdom!sunday

part 2 / part 3 (nsfw) / part 4

---

By his insistence, it had been too late post-dinner for you to head home alone. In fact, it had been too late to bother leaving Blue Hour at all—not when Sunday could find you a place to stay the night as easily as walking through the entrance of the nearest hotel. "One room," he had told the Halovian clerk at the front desk, a kindly young lady with red cardinal feathers encircling her cheeks. "Anything will do." You tapped the empty box of mints clutched in your hand with one of your fingers, as if the slow rap-tap-tap would truly relieve any of your nervousness. His words had stuck with you after all—The Head of the Oak Family wandering around Blue Hour with a glorified nobody wearing a dress like this? Of course they'd assume something!

But you weren't a glorified nobody, you wanted to tell yourself. You had worked your ass off to be here, even if nobody else around you knew that. You were a somebody, no matter where you were or what Sunday had you wear or anything of the sort. You were one of the most powerful people in Penacony, damnit. ...Of course, at the time, you had been too distracted by this train of thought to realize he had only asked for one room. And, furthermore, at the time you hadn't asked if he would be making any trips that night himself.

Sunday had counted on this.

Sunday walks you to your room with his hand on your lower back once again, in what feels almost like a mockery of the conversation you had with him a few hours ago. You suck on the inside of your cheek, wishing the mints hadn't all been swallowed by now. Even as you try to walk faster than him ever so slightly, he seems to set the pace. Slow, methodical, calculated. The first thing you notice when you get to the room is the large window overlooking the rest of the Moment, sprawling buildings disappearing into the edge of the dreamscape. Large billboards painted in shimmering hues of gold display women in ornate jewelry, displaying dazzling watches and rows upon rows of pearls. You've never seen a Penaconian skyline that didn't have its fair share of advertisements, in all truthfulness—Every instance of gold and ochre like another glinting set of eyes watching you as you go about your day. Sunday approaches behind you, his hand resting on one of your shoulders.

"Don't you want to sit down?" he asks. You initially think to protest, but before you can even process it you're already in his lap, a lone wooden chair pulled out from the room's lounging area to sit in front of the window. Your eyes switch between glancing out at the billboards, then your knees, then somewhere in the middle distance. His voice takes on a honey-like quality that it usually only shows a hint of, whispering things in your ear that you accept so easily... because they almost sound like music. A low, deep harmony.

"I hope you know, [Y/N]," he speaks against the back of your neck, fingers dancing through your hair. "That when everything is said and done, I don't just consider you an employee. I consider you a friend."

His other hand goes to rest on your hip. You're still not sure what to make of it—Maybe you just don't want to accept the answer. This hot, churning feeling begins to twist just below your stomach, slowly growing bigger and bigger.

"O-of course, Mr. Sunday. Thank you, Mr. Sunday."

What would please him more: For you to drop the formality, or to keep it even as you're eventually moaning it? Sunday isn't entirely sure, but he lets the thought percolate while he continues to play with your hair. You sink your head back into his touch, and your whole body moves in response: Pressing up against him in a way he would kill for.

He cannot control himself any longer. For the briefest moment, he drops all pretense.

"Hike up your dress, [Y/N]."

Once you realize what he means by it, your hands have already shifted the hem halfway up your thighs. This is your boss. You can't be doing this. You'd only be proving people right this way.

...But what would he do if you said no?

The skeptic in you gives in, clinging onto the reasoning that you have no choice anyways. Hell, in the most pessimistic light, you might get a promotion out of this.

The tent in his pants pokes between your thighs like a cattle brand, hot and stiff. You clasp your knees together, but the choice works against you: the way your thighs press against the intrusion, the way the pooling cyprine leaks onto his pants. If you had any hope of convincing him (or yourself) to stop, it was long gone. You hear Sunday let out a groan, a gloved hand petting one of your thighs.

"You can keep a secret... can't you?"

There's nothing else for you to say. You stare at the floor, your face burning bright red.

"Of course, Mr. Sunday."

"...I've dreamed of doing this."

His hand moves with a particular confidence as it slips between your thighs, a single finger tracing that hidden bundle of nerves.

"It's awful," he pouts, his touch slowing to a crawl, "How often I convinced myself I could be satisfied with so little. Yet as I indulged myself with your presence further and further, I could not find satiation." The way his fingers gently pass over you cause you to jump in his lap, and he only sighs again, wrapping his other arm around your waist to keep you still. "Oh, how I betray myself."

The pace of his fingers quickens again, and you stop to think—Promotion? What in Aeon's name would you even be promoted to? What rung on the corporate ladder was there above Secretary to a Family Head (other than being a Head yourself, which was obviously out of the question), and what difference would it make if he changed your title to Personal Assistant or something of that ilk?

Well, there was no point in asking that question. You knew the answer. A promotion was clearly on the horizon—it just wasn't a corporate one.

His fingers breach through, and Sunday gasps as if he himself is being penetrated, not the other way around. What first seems to simply be Sunday readjusting himself in his seat eventually becomes a slow, desperate grinding of his hips, thrusting them up into your own as his fingers continue their work of spreading you open. Two, then three, then four. His head spins at the sensation of syrupy fluid coating his knuckles, as if even touching it is enough to get him drunk. Hissing out a minced oath under his breath, Sunday rips off his stained glove and plunges his fingers in again, practically dry humping you in his lap once he can truly feel the way you clench around his hand.

"Oh, you're perfect," he exhales. "Aeon forgive me for what I want to do to you, [Y/N]. The things you do to me... How badly I needed this." He starts to direct his huffing into your shoulder. "Come for me, [Y/N]—Right on my palm. Ruin me, I beg you."

"Mr. Sunday," you heave, the words forcing themself past your wobbling lip even as you bite it shut. "I—"

"[Y/N]," he whimpers. "Please." You clasp both your hands over your mouth when you finally reach release, throwing your head back with a muffled cry. Your heart continues to race so hard that it makes you dizzy, the sound thumping in your ears. Sunday, too, starts to heave in tandem, and you feel the sheen of sweat on his cheeks as he sloppily plants kisses on the back of your neck. As he catches his breath, Sunday's eyes glance around the room warily. He notices the pitcher of water on the countertop (a complimentary convenience typical for this specific hotel, and the main reason he chose this one to begin with), and resolved to dump it on his lap. Not to wash off any of his and your release currently sticking your laps together and staining his trousers, of course—But simply as a convenient excuse. He'd only been attending to his wonderful secretary, his treasured secretary, when the water was spilled as he filled a glass for you. ...Or maybe spilling it over his head and saying he had to dive into a fountain to valiantly save you from some ne'er-do-well would be more reasonable? Catching stray bullets with his hand to keep his darling safe and the like?

Your orgasm had all but knocked you unconscious, your half-lidded gaze unable to focus on the flashing lights and colors out the open window. The two of you must have been twenty, thirty stories off the ground, far from anyone spotting your little tryst. You slump back into Sunday's chest, rolling your head backwards as you mumble a weak "Mr. Sunday..." "Thank you for indulging me, my dear," is all he responds with, scooping you up off his lap and bringing you to the room's bed. Once you are draped in the bed's covers, you quickly fall asleep, with the night's events sure to become a hazy memory.

Sunday sighs contentedly to himself. In a final moment of trangression, he takes his soiled glove into his mouth for a brief moment to savor that which stains it. He can only hope—no, be certain of the fact that—the endless dream he searches to blanket this world in will be to your every liking. ...With you by his side, no doubt.

It wouldn't need mention just yet, but for your marriage to him to be the first union blessed by Ena THEMSELVES..?

Why, what could be better? --- a/n: when looking back through some of his lines, i thiiiink sunday uses aeon as the singular? correct me if I'm wrong on this lolol. feedback is always appreciated, especially regarding pacing! criticize me to hell and back y'all I want to write better smut :,) tag list: @j1yu425 @crepezinhos @i-am-tiredd

#idk I'm hesitant to tag this as yandere sunday because that hasn't really happened yeeet??? but it will happen!#aventurine will make an appearance next installment hehehehe #not really as a traditional love rival but an “obstacle” nonetheless. to sunday at least #hsr sunday #sunday x you #sunday x reader #sunday x y/n #honkai star rail #hsr x reader #hsr x you #manipulative yandere #sunday smut #hsr smut #sunday hsr #sunday's secretary #cw dubcon #cw dubious consent

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