#god send me strenght pleas

[sethdomain]

watching soul eater and its annoyinh as fuck but i like the concept and im going to push through it

[drakewalkerfantasy]

The art of seduction. (Tatum x MC)

Summary: When Tatum saw her in the pretty gown she wore for the state dinner he could do nothing else but imagine his best friend in his embrace. His old feelings quickly surfaced. And as much as it would be fun to give up to her seduction, he could do nothing else but try to resist her. Can he do this? Or will he fail trying?

Words: 1893

Authors notes: I really hope you will enjoy this. I left space for part that will be more NSFW.

**Warnings: tiny bitsy suggestive language and a bit of swearing. Also sensual, so I would say 17+**

With the finale glance in the full-length mirror Claire finally made her way out of the bedroom. Her eyes instantly finding Tatum’s, feeling how the air leaving her lungs with the strenght of the wrecked train, when she sees his gaze fixed on her. His intense eyes roaming subtly over her body clad in the silvery grey backless dress with the cut ending just below her hipbone. His eyes stoping there just for a split second before snapping back to hers, and she could swear that she caught a glimpse of a blush colouring his cheeks.

“That good, huh?” She asked. Her lips curving in a knowing smirk watching Tatum to clear his throat before giving her a reply. Reply that instantly wiped the smile from her face, making her eyes widen and her cheeks flush.

“Let’s just say... what I’m thinking isn’t part of my job description,” murmured he in a low husky whisper that send an immediate shiver down her spine, making her pulse speed up, and her eyes darken.

And oh my God, the thoughts he thought... These little dirty thoughts about his best friend's body pressed firmly to his. His hand slipping through the cut in her dress, wandering higher. His fingers fluttering along the edges of her suspender belt that he caught a glimpse of when she saunter out of her bedroom. The other hand woven in her hair letting them fall down her back, while his lips hungrily claimed hers. His tongue...

Shit... he swore under his breath snapping back to reality. Feeling ashamed of how instantly his body reacted to her, straining against the fly of his trousers. And shit it was, when he caught a glimpse of a knowing smile spreading Claire’s lips. That knowing smile that he knew far too well did not bode anything good. The smile that he knew will test him to the limit. Cracking his facade of indifference. Breaking the mask, he so hard tried to protect. And the next step she took undoubtedly confirmed his suspicions.

Her hand with calculated precision brushed against his. Her fingertips ran against his pulse point sending it in overdrive. Her eyes hooded under her black thick eyelashes, shining with mirth like two black sapphires when they met his. Her lips parted, while the tip of her tongue flitted over them, making him almost moan with desire. And her deliciously hot breath brushed the rim of his ear when she passed by. His legs buckled almost bringing him to his knees. The low husky whisper still ringing in his ear sending the cold shiver up his spine.

“Eyes front, soldier,” she murmured only for him to hear. The tips of her fingers pressed firmer to the pulse on his wrist, brushing them lightly over it before stepping aside. The floral perfume she was wearing leaving the sweet teasing trail behind her.

For everyone else it looked like a simple accident. Like she only passed by him. But he knew better, and he only could pray to be strong enough to resist her act of seduction.

He could hear her walk out the door after Murphy and Dionne. Her heels clicked on the floor, fading in the distance, when he finally let out the breath he even didn’t realised he was holding. His body still vibrating from how close she stood to him. His pulse still quickened from the way her fingertips ran over it with featherlight calculated touch. And his legs still rooted to the place, while he turned his head to watch after Claire’s retreating figure, forcing himself to move after her. It took him only a few strides to catch up with her, slowing his pace and walking next to her. His mind racing, still focused on the moment they had just a seconds before. The moment when every cell in his body was vibrating from the feel of her body heat. But even with his mind racing, his sharp trained eyes now and then still slipped to look at her, noticing everything she wanted him to notice. Her hips swinged sensually, just enough to make his blood boil, but not enough to someone else to notice. Her chest rising and falling with every step she took. And every time when her lips parted, he could see the tip of her tongue running over her peach glossed lips with exhale. And when she turned her head finally meeting his intense gaze, he didn’t missed how her pulse picked up the speed and her pupils dilated. His lips quirking in the satisfying smirk noting, that he has no less impact on her than she had on him.

“Game on, babe,” he thought before leading her toward the private plane. The stoic mask once again put on his face.

The flight to the Kingdom of Pavadena was a nightmare. The nightmare he wasn’t sure how he survived or didn’t drag Claire to the nearest bathroom. He was dreaming to turn her around to face him. Dreaming to push her to the door, to press his lips to hers and to demand for them to open, while his tongue would slip inside swirling around hers and deepening the kiss. Kissing her hungrily as he dreamed of doing so many years ago... in another life. The picture of this still pulsing violently in his mind, while his hands gripped the handrests firmer, when the most alluring sound in the world slipped past, making him freeze. His eyes dilated becoming a shade darker. His nails dug into the cold leather of the seat and his teeth grind, while he desperately tried to keep calm. Out of the corner of his eyes he could see how she dip the piece of strawberry, as red and no doubt as delicious as her lips, into the whipped cream. Her tongue slowly darting in between of her parted lips, swirling it deliberately slowly around the tip, making Tatum almost growl shifting uncomfortably in his seat. Her lips wrapping around it with a moan, and her eyes closing before she finally swallowed the berry. It took everything in Tatum not to look at her, and not to meet her eyes. Stubbornly refusing her a satisfaction of seeing, what she was doing to him. And when he felt her gentle touch to his hand, it was as if a naked electricity wire hit him.

He thought that it will get better when he and Murphy were send to the back room to join other bodyguards. That finally he will be able to breathe. And yes it was... at first... and only for a little bit until the moment Claire joined them. And what a torture it became, when she did. Her bare hip brushing against his tigh. Staying pressed to him just for a second too long for it to be just an accident. Making him grow bigger and harder than he ever was. Her eyes meeting his, reading him as an opened book. Smiling at him with this smug smile, while she called his bluff, knowing quite well that she won this round. As if knowing that she didn’t just won a game, but also his heart. The fact that he would deny if confronted. The fact he must deny to protect her from her own mother. But oh well, if she didn't make it so difficult to do... so incredibly hard to resist her. Making his task a torture. A torture so much worse that the ones that were brought on him by the terrors of war.

His hand involuntarily dropped to his hip touching the place where her hip was pressed just a moment ago. The place that burned not only from her touch but also with a memory of the hot rod digging into his flesh.

He was suddenly pulled out from his thoughts to the present by the whiff of her floral perfume, and he could almost feel the heat that was radiating from her body when she moved closer to him. Her voice barely a whisper only for him to hear, accommodated by the ghost of the touch only for him to feel.

“Walk with me?” she uttered. Her voice almost a plea and he felt himself nod obediently despite knowing that this was a huge mistake and a trap he went into willingly. Only hoping that the sheer will of his would be enough this time to not give up to her wiles and to be able to keep his stoic demeanour.

They went in a silence for some time, the only sound that broke it was the sound of their synced breathing. Her body so close to his, that he could feel hers with every cell of his own body. Their hands brushing and their fingers unknowingly to each other aching to be interlaced together. Their eyes secretly following each other's movements, when they thought they wasn’t watched, longing and wanting to be closer. But knowing how impossible this wish was. Impossible... and ridiculous. Knowing that she is only his best childhood friend he was dreaming about for so long. Knowing that she would never see him another way with abyss of difference between them. Not knowing why she would play this game of seduction, while her heart wasn't in it. 

Soon they finally stopped at the dead end of the long hallway, where the lamps weren't as bright and the noice of the party was only a distant whisper. She slowly turned to him watching around before stepping closer, making his heart leap in his chest and his breath hitch. She lean in closer, giving him a chance to step back, letting him to bid her goodbye before going back to the back room, but he didn’t. As if rooted to the spot he could feel her body lean into his. Her hand squeezing his before she tip toe toward him, pressing a gentle kiss to his cheek. His hands involuntarily drop to her waist. His fingers brushing the edges of her bare back sending the current of electricity through her body, while her lips grazing lower pressing to the corner of his lips in a lingering kiss before stepping back. Her lips curving in the soft smile, while her cheeks flame, feeling shy for the first time this evening. Her heart rate peaking up, watching as Tatum flushed, raising a hand to cover the spot Claire’s lips were just a moment ago. Their eyes finally meet with so much emotions and their bodies vibrating from the longing for each other that was held back all these long and lonely years. His hands balling into fists trying to suppress the urge to grab her by her hips and pull her toward him. Trying to suppress the desire to kiss her hard on the lips. 

He held her gaze for a moment longer, the torment and desire clearly blazing in their eyes, but after a moment Claire reluctantly started to walk away. Her heart thundering treacherously with every step she took. Her hips swaying, making him watch her every move, making him throb in a confines of his trousers. Making him to want to run after her, to claim her lips, to claim her as his. The fantasy he would never be able to fulfill. The fantasy that will always stay only that... the fantasy.

Tagging: @jamespotterthefirst​ @choices-bound​ @i-bloody-love-drake-walker​ @openheartthot​ @ramseysrookiex​ @shaylan211 @annekebbphotography​

[smoochkooks]

—if walls could talk (m.)

⇢ pairing: min yoongi/reader

⇢ genre: smut, angst

⇢ word count: 5k+

⇢ warnings: friends with benefits, infidelity, explicit sexual content: unprotected sex, dirty talk, possesivness, slight degradation, very light choking, unhealthy relationships, this is sad im sorry

⇢ summary: for most people, love is an enigma; hard to describe force that brings two hearts together and makes one home. love is happiness and delight. love is goodmorning kisses when sun rises and warm cuddles when it gets dark. love is sharing deepest, most hidden insecurities together and finding solutions for them. love is looking into someone’s eyes and seeking comfort in them.

but for min yoongi, love is the most unfair feeling in the world.

a/n: this is my first ever writing posted here so please give me some love. listen to ‘if walls could talk’ by 5sos.  

If someone ever dared to ask Min Yoongi what is love for him, his answer would fall from his lips without a hint of hesitation.

For most people, love is an enigma; hard to describe force that brings two hearts together and makes one home. Love is happiness and delight. Love is goodmorning kisses when sun rises and warm cuddles when it gets dark. Love is sharing deepest, most hidden insecurities together and finding solutions for them. Love is looking into someone’s eyes and seeking comfort in them.

But for Min Yoongi, love is the most unfair feeling in the world.

It’s sadness and pain, making him want to scream out hopelessly into dead hours of the night his frustrations. For Yoongi, love is nothing but heartache and longing for the person who can’t reciprocate his feelings the way he wishes to.

But for you, the girl he loves, Yoongi would suffer for the rest of the eternity, for the sake of your own happiness, and his downfall.

Intertwined bodies, limbs tangled together underneath the messy sheets, moonlight slipping through the curtains of the bedroom and illuminating silver gleams on the surface of the ceiling. Laboured breaths and swollen lips, drinking poisonous taste from mouths caught mid open in sheer ecstasy that only carnal lust can provide. The sounds of sweat-covered skin slapping on skin, sinful noises with a cacophony of moans.

Yoongi kisses you like his life depends on it, like he’s trying to put into it all the unspoken, broken sentences he’s to afraid to let out.

“I missed you,” kiss on the corner of your mouth, just a brief prelude to the symphony of lovestruck boy that he hides behind his rough touches.

“You are the best thing that have ever happened to me,” kiss on the crook of your neck, supressed in depths of your sweetly scented hair, where he inhales the soul shaking intoxication.

And the last one, the scariest of them all.

“I love you,” kiss on your pillowy lips, stealing the breath from his lungs away and leaving him dizzy.

Yet, Yoongi knows, even in his lustful state of numbness, that he cannot say them. He chooses another words, he thinks it’s better like this; when he’s not giving into it too much because it will bring him down. Even though it hurts so bad, stabbing his heart with invisible dagger and spilling blood all over the white sheets.

“Can he fuck you this good?” It’s nothing but a growl against the shell of your ear, sending shivers down your spine.

It’s selfish, truly egoistic, asking things like that, with your nude, pliable body beneath him, submited to his mercy and his touches only, with his cock drilling into you deeply. Yoongi can’t find the strenght to stop. He’s feeding on your strangled proclamations like they are the most delicious course, sweet on his tongue, yet bitter on the edges.

“N-no,” you stutter breathlessly, more of a moan than a real word. “Only you.”

It’s addicting, the way those words slip from your mouth, the way your body arches to him when he thrusts harder, when he plays with you the most dangerous game in the world, the one mixing pain with pleasure. His name rolling of your tongue over and over is a sin, pure ambrosia to his ears but he devoted himself to this temptation a long time ago.

“Yeah? You like when I’m fucking you open like this?” Yoongi asks.

He slows down his pace, dragging his cock through your silky walls agonizingly gentle, watching how it disappears into the wetness of your cunt. You writhe beneath him, eyelids fluttered shut from the immense pleasure he is bringing to you, always giving you the part of himself between each roll of his hips.

When no response comes out of your mouth, he lands a harsh smack to the back of your thigh, making you gasp. Deft fingers find their way to your chin, thumb pressing into the swollen flesh of your bottom lip. “Fucking answer me, slut,” he snarls.

“I–God, I love it,” you blurt out, reaching for his forearms like they are your lifeline. “You’re always making me feel so–fuck, so good, Yoongi.”

Your words push the dagger deeper into his heart, the blood runs thicker. Yoongi starts fucking you harder then, and you rake your nails through his back, until a hiss escapes his mouth because the pain always feels oh, so good.

And you love it too, love the pain your rough fucking brings to your body. You relish in the way he holds you down, pinning your hips to the mattress with enough force to leave purplish bruises. You succumb to him every time, no matter how wrong it is, no matter how loud the screaming to stop this before it will get out of your hand is in your head.

You’re addicted to him just like he’s to you.

His bony fingers slowly caressing your throat make your breath hitch. He doesn’t apply pressure, not yet, he just holds his hand there until you beg him to push, grasping his wrist between your fingers.

“Yoongi, please–”

He lifts his head up and you have no choice but stare right into his eyes, right into his dark orbs that always hide so much love for you, everlastingly for you. You could hurt him all over again, yet he will never falter.

Something snaps in him. Maybe it’s his name on your lips, a breathless plea in his ears. Maybe it’s the deliciously good way your walls hug his dick snuggly inside. Or maybe it’s you in general, cascades of hair strewn around the pillow and face flushed in pleasure.

You, stabbing him right into his heart.

“You are mine,” Yoongi groans before he could stop himself; ugly possessiveness dripping from his tone. Veiny hand around your throat gradually tightens with practiced ease, and your senses blurr. “Mine to kiss, mine to fuck. Mine, fucking mine.” he repeats like a mantra, like he foolishly thinks it will become true after so many times he wished to ink them on your skin, mark you as his and only his. But they are all just words, sentences thrown hastily in the middle of carnal desire.

He feels your walls clenching around him, approaching your high. He slows his pace to bare minimum, fucking himself into you deeper, like he’s trying to reach the very core of your soul. He wants you to come like this, with your eyes glued to his ones. Maybe you would find in them the truth he would never tell.

He captures your lips in a kiss too sensual and too sweet to be mistaken with crimson lust. You sigh into his mouth and his tongue laces with yours, tasting cheap strawberry wine you drank earlier that night. He hadn’t come to you with a plan to have sex. You called him because you needed someone to talk.

You needed your best friend.

However, after few glasses and several lustful glances, before he could even tell you to stop, you were sitting on his lap, lips hovering over his, your center grinding against his crotch, leaving him no choice but indulge. A sigh of “I want you,” spoken directly to his ear was enough to sprung him into action and kiss the fuck out of you, ripping your blouse from your body and have his way with you on the couch, with his face burried between your legs. And then on your bed, where you sleep in the embrace of your boyfriend every night.

“Fuck, baby,” Yoongi grunts, releasing your throat from his grip. “You’re gonna take it, yeah?” he breathes out, and you could only moan in approval, too fucked out by the feeling of his cock reaching depths of your pussy. “Take it like a good girl–” he continues, practically slurring his words. “–and let me fill up your tight cunt with my cum.”

There’s only a whimper in response from you but it’s enough for him. His face falls to the crook of your neck, lips ghosting over the skin.

One mark, Yoongi thinks, one bite on her neck and he will find out. He will finally know what his girlfriend has been up to these past months. He will know who’s face flashes behind her closed eyelids when they make love, bringing her closer to the edge. But Yoongi would never do that, no matter how tempting the thought is. He has seen you broken so many times before, crying on his shoulder. He has wiped bitter tears from your cheeks, assuring you it’s going to be okay. He won’t stand seeing you hurt again for the sake of his selfish desires.

But is it trully so cruel that he doesn’t want to share? He can cherish you so much more. Make love to you like he wouldn’t. Love you like you deserve to be loved.

Your mouth falls open in ecstasy, sweat covers your brow and forehead. You’re beautiful like this, so vulnerable, caught in the most intimate of ways possible, underneath his body. Your thighs tremble but you circle his bare waist with your legs anyway, bringing him even closer to you.

Your hands find the sides of his face, shaky palms cupping his cheeks, urging him to lean into your direction more. “I’m so close–” you mumble into the seam of his lips, followed by a messy kiss. “Yoongi, please, baby.” A broken sob falls from your mouth as his dick rock into you without any sign of mercy, hitting the one spot inside you that blinds your vision with hot white pleasure.

“Say that again.” Yoongi growls, his hand travelling down your body and reaching the apex of your thighs, when your body ends and his begins. His pace has become sloppier, a sign he is close too. He thrusts so hard it makes you see the stars, chasing both yours and his high. Pleasure sprouts through your whole body, coil in your stomach gradually tightening with the way he strokes your clit.

“Yoongi,” you moan. “Make me come. I want that so bad–” You start moving your hips in tandem with his, meeting him halfway. “–please, baby.”

He doesn’t need anything more than that, at least for now. His thumb traces messy circles on your sensitive numb, bringing you to the climax. You shout his name and he curses, feeling his cock twitching inside your cunt.

“Fuck,” Yoongi groans one last time before he comes, coating your walls with his seed. Few lazy thrusts later he pulls out from you, his cum dripping down your thighs as a dirty reminder of what you have done.

He lays on top of you, supporting his weight on his arms not to crush your smaller frame. Staring into your eyes, into your soul, like he’s trying to memorize every feature of your face, every small detail he knows so well, like he’s afraid he will forget it once he opens his eyes the other day.

You stay like that for a while, basking in the post-sex afterglow, heavy pants falling from your lips being the only sounds audible in the confines of your bedroom. Bu then, you cup his cheeks with your palms, kissing him deeply and so lovingly, he could delight in this moment forever. He could stay in your arms until his death.

You did to his heart what Spring does to cherry trees.

You met all those Springs ago, at the age of seven, on a gloomy day when you were both just in primary school. It was your first day there after moving out to another part of the city. Yoongi remembers it so vividly, you standing among other kids, watching everyone with curious eyes. Then, some older kid came up to you, pointing at your pink polka-dot wellies and started making fun of them. You immadietly bursted into tears in the middle of the playground.

And that was when seven-years old Yoongi decided he didn’t like seeing you in tears for the first time. He left the swing he was sitting at and approached you and the boy, standing proudly in front of him in his blue wellies.

“Don’t laugh at her boots you idiot! Your trainers aren’t cool, they are stupid! At least her socks aren’t wet like yours.” Yoongi said, pointing at the kid’s shoes that were, in fact, completely drenched and dirty with mud. He stucked his tongue out as a final warning and farewell, dissmising the other boy.

You looked at him hesitantly with wide, doe eyes, unsure of what to do. Fortunately, Yoongi knew.

“I’m Yoongi. Do you want to play with me?” he asked out of the blue and sent you a cute, gummy grin. You nodded shyly, going after him. You ended up testing your wellies that day, jumping to every puddle you could find.

You became inseparable since that day. There wasn’t any power that might possibly disconnect you. It was always Yoongi and Y/N, Y/N and Yoongi. Your bond was unbrakeable.

In the age of fourteen, you shared your first kiss under the blackboard sky one summer night, too young and too stupid to know things like love. But it felt so right to stand on your toes and reach for Yoongi’s mouth, placing a chaste kiss on his lips that made his cheeks red. Next day however, you claimed it was a mistake that shouldn’t have happened, that best friends don’t kiss each other, Yoongs. Yoongi swallowed the lump in his throat, agreeing with you even though in his fourteen-years old heart he felt different. Even though he didn’t know what it was like to be in love back then, he was sure his heart beating rapidly faster when you were around meant something more.

Years passed and the bitter-sweet time of the high school came faster than anyone had expected. Yoongi started being some sort of a popular boy back then. He wore black leather jackets and ripped jeans, smoked cigarettes at the back of school and fuck girls in shady bars’ bathrooms more often than do homework. He found a new group of male friends, hanging out with them sometimes even more frequently than with you, distancing himself.

He thought it was better like this, when he wasn’t looking at how you even got prettier, smarter, drifting away from his reach. When he wasn’t listening to your rambling about another asshole you had a crush on.

It hurt less like this.

You started going to the parties because of him. They were the constance in your teenage lifes, alcohol swimming in your veins your best company on Friday evening’s at clubs when you were showing fake ID’s just to get wasted and dance for dear life. He liked those moments the most, when there wasn’t any guy around you were interested in, when it was only you and him and a bottle of tequila bought with your first earned money.

Yoongi had never told you how bad he wanted to kiss you every time you swayed your bodies to the loud bass of the music. He had never said aloud how he dreamed about licking your throat with his tongue, how he wished your cunt was the one he runs his fingers through, digging his digits into the wetness and hearing your moans. How much he wanted your pink colored lips wrapped around his cock, instead of some nameless girl’s.

But your were best friends and best friends don’t hook up with each other, as Yoongi overheard you saying it one day to your other friend Jihyo, when she asked you about him. You eventually forgot about this rule though, year or so after, letting him fuck you dirty at the backseat of his dad’s car.

His name was Jaehyun and when you met him, you believed he was your first and last love. He was one of those guys Yoongi hated the most. Obnoxiously rich, too confident and arrogant for his own good, but you fell for his poor charms and sweet words anyway. Until Jaehyun eventually got bored and broke up with you in the middle of a party, leaving you with no choice but stare mouth agape at him, casually flirting with another girl minutes later. However, Yoongi was there to pick up the pieces of your broken heart, letting you drown your misery in alcohol along with him.

When your glassy eyes lingered on his lips for a moment too long, he was sure it was his first warning.

When your lips brushed his and he let you kiss him, he knew it was his first mistake.

When you took his hand and led him to the parking lot with clear intentions in your head, he was sure there was no going back from it.

Not when you were lying at the backseat of his dad’s car half naked underneath him, with your skirt hiked up and revealing yourself to his hungry eyes; shy, with your bottom lip caught between your teeth, begging him to ruin you.

You didn’t ask him to be gentle with you, he promised you roughness and fulfilled it, pulling your hair and rasping filthly exclamations to your ears that made your head spin and wetness running down your thighs. He could taste alcohol and sweetness of something only akin to you on your tongue that night. It was addicting and he was ready to overdose.

Yoongi remembers the day you shattered his heart into pieces clearly, like it was barely yesterday. It was Saturday and Saturday meant college parties at Jung Hoseok’s place. He remembers how you took his hand and led him through the crowd of drunk people, just like back in high school days but something was definitely odd with your behavior that night. He knew you too well not to feel that. You were tense, avoiding his eyes at all costs.

You ended up on the balcony, starring at the sky and smoking. You still looked so innocent with a cigarette between your fingers, even after all those years he taught you how to do that during one of the lunch breaks at your high school.

“I moved to Jinyoung last week,” you said suddenly, breaking the silence. “I think I love him.”

Jinyoung wasn’t another Jaehyun or an upgraded version of him. He was studying law and had a bright future ahead of him, which Yoongi couldn’t say about himself. Yoongi hated him as much as he did your every previous boyfriend but something was different with Jinyoung. He actually cared about you and that was what scared Yoongi the most; the lack of flaws in your current boyfriend that could put him in lost position. That could make you chose Yoongi over him.

Yet, Yoongi just chuckled at your words bitterly. Maybe it wouldn’t hurt so bad if he knew they were true. But you were always a terrible liar.

“Funny,” he muttered, blowing out the fumes of his cigarette. “You didn’t seem like head over heels for him when you sucked my dick last Tuesday.”

Your breath hitched in your throat. He knew he hit your sensitive spot, that he had you right there cornered into situation you hated confronting. Because there was no rational explanation of what you were doing, beside how wrong it all was.

You threw away you half-burnt cigarette, looking at him for the first time since you dragged him here. “You are not inside my head, Yoongi. You don’t know what I really feel.” Your tone was laced with anger even if your voice quivered slightly at the end. Because you lied again. He was the one who knew you the most, inside and out.

Yoongi hated how beautiful you looked under the moonlight, how your skin glowed and eyes sparkled, even when you were mad. You were a picture of perfection, a blurry mirage remembering of what he might yet he couldn’t have.

“You’re right. I don’t know how you feel. But neither do you,” he said. “Call me when you will change your mind. You know where to find me.” He shoot you one last final gaze before he left you alone on the balcony, staring into the city covered in darkness.

You didn’t speak a word to him for the next few weeks. No texts, no calls. Until one day you showed up at his door unannounced, crashing your mouth onto his. He didn’t ask any questions when you mumbled, “Make me forget,” between kisses desperately, twisting his shirt in your palms. It shouldn’t have happened. Not like this.

But his selfishness let that occure again and again. Next morning he woke up to cold sheets, a sight of your naked body gone but the smell of you still lingering on the pillow next to his head. You probably came back to him, made some shitty excuse he easily believed in and kissed him as an apology.

If only he knew what sins those lips had committed the previous night.

Yoongi tried to convince himself it’s better like that so many times. He tried to move on, find someone new but in every girl’s face he saw you.

Fairness it’s truly not love’s attribute.

A few days ago you and Jinyoung got engaged. He bought you an expensive ring with a diamond too big for Yoongi’s liking. He proposed on some family dinner, too cheesy for Yoongi’s liking. And again, it was all too soon for Yoongi’s liking, but Jinyoung said it didn’t matter if you were still young, because you love each other unconditionally.

What Jinyoung doesn’t know however, is under what conditions you claim you love him.

Yoongi pulls away from the kiss, throwing his sweaty body next to yours. He turns his head to the side, catching a glimpse of your face, looking directly at him with emotions written on your face he cannot read. You were always like that, a beautiful enigma, an equation he couldn’t solve.

And then you smile, the same way that would put even sun into the shame. He could swear he’s never seen anything more mesmerizing. You’re ethereal, you feel so dreamlike he has to swipe his thumb on your cheek to be sure he hasn’t imagined all of this. But you’re still here.

He pulls you closer, flush to his body. He looks at you carefully, like he’s trying to remember your every feature, every ridge and dip, because it might be your last time together like this. Your hair you hate so bad and always complain about when it rains. Your forehead and brows that furrow every time you wonder about something. Your sparkling, doe eyes he has fallen for so many years before. Your cute nose, rosy cheeks. The curve of your full lips he had kissed countless times.

“What are you thinking about?” you whisper, your voice quiet in a small space of your bedroom.

“Just admiring your beauty.” Yoongi answers simply, flashing you a lopsided smile.

“When did you become so cheesy?” you tease, poking him in the ribs.

For you, I could be like that all the time. I could buy you flowers, take you out to fancy restaurants, kiss you goodbye before you leave for college or work. If only that meant you will be with me, I would try to be the best boyfriend on the Earth. If you just let me.

He chooses no to respond to that, instead asking another question, the one that makes his insides churn. “When’s the wedding?”

You gulp, the guilt taking over your features. That’s when the reality kicks in, waking you up from the dream that last only during sleepless nights. You choose not to look at him, you’re not gonna break down in front of him again today. “In July. Jinyoung thinks it’s the best month to get marry. It brings luck, or something.” you say and he hums, nodding. For the person claiming to be so deeply in love, you look pathetically sad.

“I hope I’m invited.” Yoongi chuckles, but you know it’s a bitter laugh. He kisses your crown lovingly, smiling down at you.

You missed his gummy grin, missed the days when it was just the two of you, and the cruel world. “Yoongi, I'm–” you begin, tears starting to build in your eyes, but he shooshes you, cuddling your body closer to him.

“Shh, I know, baby. You don’t have to say anything. We will talk about it another day.”

You let out a shaky sigh, burring your face in his chest. He holds you like this, flushed to his chest where his heart beats with the love he has for you, lulling you to sleep. In his arms you’re again a little girl in pink polka-dot wellies. You’re again a teenager that argued with her parents about getting caught smoking on a school yard. You’re again the girl who cried because her first boyfriend appeared to be an asshole. You’re the woman he loves and would never be his, no matter how much he wishes.

And to love is to let go. So does he, no matter how much it hurts him to do so.

For the one last time, Yoongi brings his lips to your forehead, kissing you goodnight. When your breath slows down and when he’s sure you’re asleep, he whispers, “You’re going to be the most beautiful bride. I love you.”

What Yoongi doesn’t know, is that you are wide awake the whole time.

“I love you too,” you answer him back in your head. The single tear rolls down your cheek and falls to the pillow.

If walls could talk, there wouldn’t be any silence. Confessions would be spoken out loud, emotions would be revealed. But love, indeed, is truly an unfair power.