#i wanna get into ceramics too ugh but my school refuses to let me into the ceramics courses and doing it outside of that would be expensive.

[nojaloart]

ANYWAYS if anyone cares for the past couple of weeks i’ve been fixating on printmaking and finally bought some stuff to do linocut and i must say. rlly looking forward to finishing this bad boy

[ghostking-wenning]

Radishes, Chapter 4

I wrote this all in one go last night, and I think it came together pretty good! So y’all get a lil two-fer today. This chapter is mostly dialogue, which is probably my specialty! Lemme know whatcha think. 

1900 words, rated T for drinking I guess, NingXian, modern au, first date, momentary angst but it’s resolved really quick!

Enjoy~!

“Thank you! We’re The Whatevers! We have stickers and T-shirts at the merch counter. Have a great night!” Wuxian waved as he and his bandmates gathered their things and left the stage. Their set was short, but it was easily the most exciting thing Qionglin had seen in … well, ever, probably. The host in the strappy dress came back, and thanked The Whatevers, chatting to fill time while the next band set up.

“Hey!” Wuxian suddenly appeared at his side. He’d shed his leather jacket, and a light sheen of sweat coated his skin.

“Hey!” Qionglin parroted back, hopping to his feet. “That was amazing! You really are a rockstar!” Wuxian had put on heeled boots for the show, and now towered a few inches over him. Qionglin had to tip his head further back to meet his eyes.

Wuxian laughed breezily. “Thank you so much! I’m glad you liked it. It means a lot.”

“Of course! I um, I really like your s-singing. And the lyrics were really poetic and moving, but still cool and exciting! I-- I haven’t heard a lot of music like that before.” 

“Oh, gosh, thanks!” Wuxian gushed. “I didn’t know anyone actually listened to the lyrics, heh…”

“You asked me to,” Qionglin explained. “But I think I would’ve noticed them anyway, they’re…” He searched for the right word. “Beautiful.” 

Wuxian didn’t say anything for a while, just stared down at him intensely. Qionglin shuffled his feet and broke eye contact. 

“Do you wanna get out of here?” Wuxian eventually asked.

“Uh, out? Where?” Qionglin forced himself to look back at him, but his expression was still so piercing. Qionglin bit his lower lip, and his stomach flipped over when Wuxian’s gaze flicked downward. 

His face finally softened, a slight smile curling his lips. “I know a place. Let’s go.”

Qionglin followed him back through the greenroom, and out of the club. They walked a few blocks, to a quiet bar called the Lilypad. It was decorated in blues and greens and purples, live plants overflowing from handmade ceramic pots. Soft, traditional Chinese music lilted through the air.

“Wow,” Qionglin remarked. “This place is cute! Kind of a 180 from the Devil’s Den, huh?”

“Mhm!” Wuxian agreed. “It’s an old favorite. My dad took my brother and me here for our first drinks when we turned 18.”

They took their seats across from each other at a small round table. Brightly colored fish swam in an aquarium next to them. Wuxian perused the drink menu. They had a beautiful view of the river, glinting faintly in the twilight.

“What’s good here?” Qionglin wondered aloud. “This probably isn’t surprising, but I don’t drink very often. Pretty much just on holidays at family dinners or whatever.”

“Hmm… do you trust me?” Wuxian asked, peering over the menu, one eyebrow raised.

Qionglin looked at him, confused. “Yes…?” 

“Good!” Wuxian said decisively, tapping the side of his nose. “Wait right here.” And he whisked away.

“Okay…” Qionglin waited obediently. A couple of minutes later, Wuxian reappeared with two glasses of pale golden wine.

“This is one of the best things you’ll ever taste,” he promised, setting one glass in front of Qionglin. 

Qionglin raised his eyebrows. “Not what I was expecting…” he began, lifting the glass and sniffing curiously. The wine smelled of lotus blossoms and ripe plums. He took a tentative sip. The golden liquor warmed his lips, but didn’t burn as it slid down his throat. Its sweet aroma reminded him of summertime. “It’s delicious!”

“Right?” Wuxian effused. “It’s called Hefeng. It’s a specialty from my hometown. Also, I lied. It’s the second best thing you’ll ever taste. The first one is harder to find up here.” He drank happily from his glass, smiling fondly.

“Oh? What’s the first one?” 

“It’s called Emperor’s Smile. They only make it in Suzhou, though, and the vineyard that makes it doesn’t distribute it. Something about how it doesn’t taste right outside of Suzhou, I dunno. Sounds like bullshit to me, but it’s damn good wine.” He sighed wistfully. “If I get a bottle, I’ll save you a glass.” 

Qionglin felt heat rising to his face, and tried to hide it behind his wine glass. He took a long sip. 

“Pace yourself,” Wuxian warned. “It’s stronger than it tastes.” 

Indeed it was. Less than a quarter-hour later, Qionglin’s glass was empty and he was feeling quite buzzed. Oops, he thought faintly. Oh well!

“So tell me about yourself,” Wuxian prompted. He swirled the wine in his glass; he was on his second cup, but seemed thus far unaffected.

“Oof,” Qionglin muttered. “What’s there to tell? I’m … Just a farmer, I guess. I like plants and animals. I like to cook. That’s kind of it.” He shrugged. “I’m not exactly the most interesting guy around. I’m probably pretty boring, huh?”

“Don’t say that,” Wuxian chided. “If you were boring, we wouldn’t be here. Tell me about farming! How’d you get into that?”

Qionglin blinked. No one had ever asked. “Well, it’s a family thing. The farm’s been in our family for over a hundred years. My cousins and I are starting to take over the bulk of the work from our aunties and granny.” 

“What about your folks? What do they do?” 

“Oh… Um… They were doctors.”

“On the farm?”

“N-no, I mean… before they died.” Awkwardly, Qionglin glanced out the window. It was dark out now, but he could see city lights twinkling across the water.

“What? No way!” Wuxian blurted out.

“Uh… It’s not exactly unheard of…” Qionglin picked at his paper napkin.

“No, no, that’s not what I meant!” Wuxian corrected. “I um. Lost my parents too. When I was really little.”

“Oh.” Qionglin looked back at him and offered an apologetic smile. “What a thing to have in common, huh? But I thought you mentioned your dad earlier?”

“Yeah, I was adopted. I was in the foster system for a few years, then a friend of my father’s found me and took me in. He’s been very kind to me. His kids are like my real siblings.” He cleared his throat. “So, what about you? Do you have siblings?”

“Yeah, a big sister!” Qionglin said, already forgetting the maudlin turn their conversation had taken. “Her name is Qing and she’s the coolest. She’s in medical school here in the city. What are your siblings like?” 

Wuxian smiled warmly. “I have a big sister too. She’s probably my favorite person ever. Her name’s Yanli, she’s a pastry chef. My brother, Wanyin, is… he’s my best friend, but he’s kind of an acquired taste. In other words, he’s a total dickhead, but I love him anyway!” His laughter was almost as beautiful as his singing.

Qionglin couldn’t help but laugh too. “They sound great,” he mused.

“Yeah…” Wuxian sighed. “Even my boyfriend likes them, and he doesn’t like anyone!”

Qionglin’s heart dropped like a stone. “... your what…?” He whispered, praying he’d heard wrong. Involuntarily, his hands curled into fists in his lap.

Wuxian blanched. “My-- my boyfriend? Don’t tell me-- did I never mention him?”

“No. You didn’t.” Qionglin said shortly. He couldn’t believe he’d been so naive. He must’ve misread his kindness and openness as flirting, and like a fool, fell for it. Maybe Wuxian was just like this to everyone he met. He felt hot from the inside out, like his bones had turned to molten lead. His skin prickled, and his breath hitched like suddenly there wasn’t enough oxygen in the room. “I should go.” He stood abruptly, slapped a stack of small bills on the table, more than enough for one glass of wine, and hurried out of the bar. 

The shock sobered him up instantly. He walked briskly down the street, vision blurred with tears. He hoped he was walking back to his car, but the streets all looked the same, especially in the dark. Stupid! Of course he already has someone! Why would he ever waste his time on me? He roughly swiped the tears away with his shirtsleeves. Just my fucking luck, isn’t it? The first time I ever like someone and it goes like this. So much for new beginnings and taking chances, huh?

“Wait--!” Wuxian fumbled for his wallet, paid quickly and ran after him. “Qionglin! Wait, I can explain!” 

Qionglin walked faster and tried to ignore him, but he caught up easily and cut him off. Qionglin took a shaky breath. “Explain what?” He spat, refusing to look at him. “I … I thought you… ugh, never mind.” Words rarely came easily, but it was even harder to speak when he was so worked up. “God I’m an idiot…” he muttered.

“No, you’re not--! I didn’t mean to… to lead you on or anything. I-- my boyfriend and I-- we’re open. I’m polyamorous.”

Qionglin blinked a few times. He’d heard that word before, but wasn’t sure he understood. 

“It means I sometimes have feelings for more than one person.” Wuxian explained. “My boyfriend, Wangji -- he doesn’t feel the same way, but he understands that I do, we have an agreement and everything. I-- I swear I didn’t mean to keep it from you. I really just forgot I hadn’t already told you.” Qionglin still avoided looking at him, but his tone was gentle and sincere. 

Qionglin sniffed. “S-- so what?” 

“So… Can I have a do-over? A new first date, a proper one. A-anything you want to do! I know I don’t deserve it… but I like you. Will you let me try again?” Slowly, shyly, he reached for Qionglin’s hand. Qionglin flinched but didn’t pull away, letting Wuxian gently prise his fingers apart and twine them together. 

Qionglin’s head was spinning. Suddenly he felt tipsy again. “S-so…” he repeated slowly. “You do like me…?”

Wuxian chuckled softly. “Yeah, I do.” With his free hand he reached up and delicately dabbed the tears from the corners of Qionglin’s eyes. “I’m so sorry I upset you like that. That was my fault.” For someone so carefree and vivacious, he could be surprisingly mature when he wanted to be. “I won’t do it again.”

Qionglin swallowed hard. “Okay…” he whispered.

Wuxian stepped even closer. Their chests were nearly touching. “Okay? You mean it?” He asked hopefully.

Qionglin nodded. He looked up at Wuxian finally, and managed a shy smile. Wuxian pulled Qionglin into his arms, squeezing tightly. Qionglin wondered when was the last time anyone hugged him like this. Tentatively, he brought his arms up and wrapped them around Wuxian’s waist, leaning into the embrace and resting his forehead on his shoulder. He was still reeling a bit from the emotional whiplash, but Wuxian’s arms were warm, strong, and grounding. His heart rate slowed, and his breathing evened out. "So a do-over, huh? A proper… date?" He said, voice muffled in the collar of Wuxian's jacket.

Wuxian finally let go and stepped back, hands still lingering on Qionglin’s own. “Yes! Let me know what you want to do. Say the word and we’ll go, okay?” 

Qionglin thought for a moment, humming and tipping his head to the side. 

“You don’t have to think of it right now!” Wuxian clarified. “You can just text me when you decide.”

Qionglin shook his head. “No, no, I’ve got it. Let’s go to the zoo. I'm… free tomorrow! Or next Saturday. Every Saturday, actually…"

Wuxian smiled that sunshine smile. “Tomorrow is perfect.”

[strwbrryeos]

The One Where You’re Just Friends (M) [R]

So this was requested a long time ago by 🐲anon. I hope they’re still around to read it! Sorry it took so long!

SUMMARY; Yoongi loves you. You love Yoongi. Neither of you know it. Whoops. 

Genre: smut, minor angst, fluff, crack

Pairing: Reader x Min Yoongi

Contains: body worship, oral, unprotected sex, pretty vanilla tbh, Yoongi loves you and he makes sure you know it, creampie, some dirty talk, praise, daddy kink for 0.02 seconds and it’s for a joke

Being friends with benefits is great. You get a buddy to talk to and hang out with. Bonus points for great sex. Double bonus points when that buddy is you. Triple bonus points for the fact that you and Yoongi are best friends, and sex doesn’t have to be a strings-attached type of deal. It’s a part of your dynamic and it works, no problem.

Well, at least, until Yoongi fell for you.

But he should’ve seen that one coming.

You and Yoongi have been best friends in high school, and your relationship has always been so uncomplicated, so natural. When you got a little drunk and slept together for the first time, it wasn’t weird. No, it felt inevitable. It became a thing, really. The two of you talked and understood that you weren’t looking for a relationship. That’s how it was, and there wasn’t any problem.

But then Yoongi started to notice some changes. He’d been paying more attention to the way you smile. The way you laugh. The way you giggle post-sex and how all you want to do is curl up and watch a movie to lull you to sleep. The way you dance around the apartment to whatever is on the radio, even if you don’t like it. The way your nose gets so buried in a book that you hardly notice when Yoongi joins you on the couch, slipping you onto his lap.

The way that Yoongi is so completely and utterly fucked.

“Hey, Yoongles,” you greet, placing a kiss on his cheek and sliding your arms over his shoulders, effectively knocking him out of his daydream.

“Shit, you scared me,” he says, leaning back in his chair.

“Sorry,” you giggle. “What ‘cha working on?”

“New project,” he says, swinging his chair around to pull you onto his lap. “It’s for my Creative Music class. And then I have to come up with something for Music Theory.”

“Everything you just said went in one ear and out the other.”

“That’s ‘cause you’re a terrible listener.”

“False. Musically challenged.”

“Your dance skills say otherwise,” he laughs, kissing your shoulder blade.

“Are you mocking me? Are you mocking me because you know you’re a better dancer?”

You move to get off his lap, feigning anger, but he holds you close, refusing to let you go. He leans forward, his chest on your back, and you can feel the faint tingle of his breath on your neck.

“I would never dream of it, princess.”

“Mm, thought I satisfied you this morning?”

“Yeah, but seeing you has me all worked up again.”

“Gross, you’re so cheesy,” you laugh, swatting his hands away as you stand up. “What do you want for dinner?”

Yoongi shrugs, his mind still half focused on his unfinished work. “I don’t really care.”

You narrow your eyes at him. “You’re thinking about this, aren’t you?” you asked, gesturing to his computer.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Ugh, get up, you workaholic,” you say, dragging him out of his chair. “I think there are some leftovers in the fridge.”

“If you feed me bad leftovers again then I’m literally going to kill you. I swear I’ll kill you with my bare hands.”

“If I’m lucky, the bad leftovers will kill you first.”

“You’re a jerk, you know that?” he says as he sits down, suddenly feeling sleepy. “Mmmm… how about we just call it a night? I’m tired.”

“You’re always tired,” you reply with a roll of your eyes as you pop the food in the microwave. “But you have to eat something. Then you can sleep.”

“Sleep with me?” asks Yoongi hopefully.

“As in sleep with you or sleep with you?”

“Hm, sounds strangely the same to me.”

“Yoongi…” you warn.

He puts his hands up in surrender, his gummy smile in full across his face. “I’m kidding! But seriously. Come cuddle with me.”

“If I say yes, will you eat dinner?”

Yoongi groans, wanting nothing more than to just slip into bed. “Fine. Only cause you asked so nicely.”

You smile victoriously, shuffling through the kitchen cabinet to find some plates. In your haste, you nearly drop the ceramic on the ground, but Yoongi, ever your hero, saw it coming from a mile away. His hand overlaps with yours, catching both you and the dinnerware, and he can’t help the shit-eating grin that crosses his cheeks as you look embarrassed.

“Don’t say it,” you tell him. He only shakes his head at you, making his way back to the table.

He eats his food obediently, and you keep him company. He’s not all that hungry, really. In fact, he’d much much rather be working until his mind numbs and he’s crawling into bed at some ungodly hour before five in the morning, but he knows you wouldn’t like that, so he doesn’t.

You smile happily when he finishes the last of his food, and he just about drags you to the bedroom simply because he’s so tired and he really just wants to hold you. (You pester him to wash up and change before getting into bed first, though, which really was an accomplishment all in itself). Yoongi crawls into bed slowly, exhaustion slowly starting to hit him, and he can feel his body starting the slow down.

True to your word, you crawl into bed with him, and he pulls you toward him quickly, greedy for the warmth of your body. He falls asleep just like that, dreaming of spending every night with you like this.

―

You’re not much of a scholar, you always tell people. You’re so good everywhere else. You know how to have fun. You know how to get by in life. You’ve got street smarts. But school? Classes? Fuck that.

So it’s really no surprise that you’re not paying attention to a word your professor is spouting about world history; your mind blanks at the first mention of The Silk Road. Rather, you’re paying attention to the devilishly cute boy you’ve been flirting with for the past couple of months. His name is Jungkook, and though he’s got the most adorable smile you’ve ever seen, you’re pretty sure he’s not as innocent as he likes to appear.

You just wish he would ask you out already so you could find out.

When class ends, Jungkook strolls up to you like he always does, a smirk plastered on his face. “Saw you checking me out there, babe.”

“Don’t let it go to your head, Jeon,” you laugh.

“Ah, sorry. It’s hard not to when such a pretty girl looks my way.” He drapes an arm over your shoulder, escorting you out of the classroom.

“Well, if I’m such a pretty girl, why haven’t you asked me out yet?”

Jungkook stops, a bright smile forming on his face. “That better be an invitation!”

“I thought you would’ve gotten the hint like three months ago.”

“I’ll pick you up at eight tomorrow then.”

“Perfect.”

Jungkook swoops down to plant a light kiss on your cheek before dashing off as a group of guys call out to him. You shake your head, walking away giddily. Your feet carry you to your door as your mind dreams of all the things that you want Jungkook to do to you. Or that you want to do to him. Whichever comes first.

“Yoongles!” you shout as you walk through the door, “I landed me a hot date!”

Yoongi looks up from his spot on the couch, his eyebrows furrowed in a mixture of distress and confusion. “Oh?”

“Mm,” you say with a nod, plopping down beside him. “That guy Jungkook I’ve been telling you about. Finally asked me out.”

Yoongi rolls his eyes and turns back to his phone. “Took him long enough,” he scoffs.

“What, aren’t you happy for me?” You punch his arm playfully, but he’s really not in the mood to hear about your potential sexual endeavours, so he picks himself up and walks towards his bedroom.

“Wear your red bra,” he says with a sigh. “Looks good on you.”

“You’re the best!” you shout as he closes the door behind himself.

He faceplants into the bed with a frustrated groan. He can’t be jealous. This is ridiculous! You’re not his. You can do what you want.

Except Yoongi wants you to do him. Just him. Hold his hand. Kiss his lips. Who the fuck is Jungkook anyway? It took him, like, twenty years to as you out. Does he even deserve you?

No.

Yoongi doesn’t even deserve you. You’re too good for him, but dammit if he wouldn’t treat you like a queen. He’d give you everything you could ever want and more. All you would have to do is be with him.

Anyway, fuck Jeon Jungkook.

―

You prance around the apartment like a goddamned five year old waiting on ice cream; Yoongi is trying to see if he can hit you with a Cheeto.

“You’re gonna stain my dress!” you squeal, dodging the orange snack.

“Well…” He pauses to throw another one. “I’m trying! Stop moving!”

“Jungkook is not gonna wanna sleep with an orange-stained disaster!” you exclaim as you duck behind the kitchen counter, peeking out from behind it so Yoongi can only see your eyes.

“If he doesn’t wanna sleep with you when you’re covered with Cheeto dust, then is he really worth it?” Yoongi asks dramatically, reclining back comfortably onto the couch.

You laugh, standing up. “I think you’re the only one who’d still fuck me after finding me covered in snack foods.”

“All the better to eat you then, babe.”

You scrunch your nose in distaste. “You’re gross.”

“Won’t deny it. Come over here.”

“Why?” You approach him carefully, ready to dart away at a moment’s notice if he tries again, but when you’re close enough, Yoongi just pulls you down on top of him, perching you easily on his chest.

His lips find yours easily, kissing you quickly and greedily, like he’s done it thousands of times before (in fairness, he had). You’re pliant, letting him control the kiss until he breaks away, his face a little flushed and pupils dilated. “A kiss for good luck,” he explains. “Kiss him like that and you’ll be good to go.”

“You taste like Cheetos,” you reply as you climb off of him, earning only a sarcastic laugh.

“Fix your hair. He’s supposed to be here in a couple of minutes.”

Your hands immediately dart to the mess that Yoongi made, causing him to laugh mercilessly. “Yoongi! You absolute―”

Knock knock.

“Shit!”

Yoongi’s still laughing when you answer the door, and if looks could kill he would’ve been dead twice over. You pat your hair down best you can before swinging the door open to reveal a casually dressed―but wickedly handsome―Jungkook.

“Good evening, madame,” he greets, showing off his smile. He takes your hand and kisses the top of it, leaving you blushing.

“Gross,” pipes up Yoongi from the other side of the room. “Get outta my house.”

“Ignore him,” you say, casting another glare Yoongi’s way.

“Uh,” Jungkook laughs awkwardly, “who’s that?”

Before you can answer, Yoongi says, “The love of her life and I will literally murder you if you make her anything less than happy.”

You gently push against Jungkook’s chest, eager to get him out of Yoongi’s range. “Ignore everything he’s saying, let’s just go!” You shut the door behind you quickly. “Sorry about him.”

“Friend?”

“Try best friend,” you say, shaking your head. “He’s super protective.”

“Seems nice.”

“So where are you taking me?” you ask, changing the subject.

“It’s a surprise.”

―

Turns out, Jungkook can cook. Bonus points: his apartment is really nice. Double bonus points if he can use his dick. Guess you’ll have to find out later.

You do, of course, and Yoongi’s unfortunate enough to be on the receiving end of all the nasty, explicit details. “Oh my God,” you gush to Yoongi as he curls up under his covers in a poor attempt to escape your words. “He fucked me so good.”

“That’s great―”

“And also, holy shit, he’s good with his tongue―”

“Bet he’s not better than me,” Yoongi mumbles quietly.

“Aw, did I bruise your ego?” you laugh, planting a quick peck to his cheek. “No but really, Yoongi, he was so―”

“Good?” he huffs. “Yeah, I got it.”

“Man, what’s your problem? You’ve been so grouchy lately.”

“Nothing. I’m just tired,” he says shortly, knowing full well that he’s pissing you off but totally okay with it if it means you’ll shut up about Jungkook’s dick.

“Okay, well,” you say as you climb off his bed, “when you get that stick out of your ass, you know where to find me.”

Yoongi only grunts in response, and though you fully intended to storm out of the room, you’re just so annoyed. You march over to him and yank the blankets right off from him, causing him to shout, “Hey!” in irritation. “The fuck is your problem?”

“The fuck is your problem? Why are you ignoring me?”

“I’m just tired is all―”

“That’s bullshit and you know it.”

Yoongi sits up, looking at you directly in the eye. His mouth opens as if to say something, but no words come out; instead they snap shut, and he pulls the blankets right back over his eyes. “G’night,” he grumbles.

“Yoongi. Seriously. You’re my best friend. What the actual fuck is wrong with you right now?”

“Doesn’t matter. I’ll get over it in the morning.”

“It must matter a little bit if you’re acting like this.”

“Y/N. Seriously. It doesn’t matter. Not even a little bit. It’s stupid as fuck. I’ll get over it.”

“And what happens if you don’t?” you counter, you frustration growing apparent. You and Yoongi always talk shit out! What changed? “Babe, c’mon.”

“Don’t ‘babe’ me, please,” he whispers, and now you know something is wrong.

“Yoongi. Yoongles. Babe. Baby. Baby boy. Daddy, should I call you daddy?” You crouch down beside the bed, and his eyes stare at you from where they appear above the covers. “Talk to me. Please.”

Yoongi sighs in annoyance, mostly because he can feel his own resistance crumbling. He wants to talk to you, but he doesn’t know how. What if you reject him? What if this ruins your friendship? What if you never talk to him again? Or worse, what if you do accept him, but you don’t love him as much as he loves you? What if you leave him for someone better?

“I don’t…” Yoongi starts, and a tear slips down his face, “I can’t. I can’t.” He shakes his head and burrows deeper into the bed, wanting to make himself small and disappear.

This is so stupid. If you want to be with Jungkook, then be with Jungkook! He can’t stop you! You’re not his! It’s your life! Go! Be free!

But you crawl right into bed beside him because how could you leave the man you love alone like this?

You hug the back of him as sobs begin to overtake him; he tries so hard to keep any sounds from coming out of his mouth, but you can still hear him. You kiss the back of his neck sweetly, your heart aching for him, worse because you don’t know how to help. The action seems to make him cry harder, and you’re whispering positive reassurances in his ear and rubbing gentle circles over his arm until he calms down enough.

“Yoongi?” you whisper when his breathing steadies. “I love you, and I’m here for you, okay? I love you so, so much. More than you know.”

“Life sucks,” Yoongi says with a dry laugh.

You chuckle, shaking your head as you rest on his shoulder to look down on him. “Yeah, it really does.”

“I’m just really stressed out.”

“About what?”

“Girls,” Yoongi murmurs, a faint blush dusting his cheeks.

Your chest tugs uncomfortably, but you swallow the feeling quickly. “Maybe I can help?”

“Doubt it,” Yoongi laughs. “She’s clueless as fuck. I take her on dates, but she thinks it’s friendly. I give her gifts, but she thinks it’s all a nice gesture. Besides, she likes someone else.”

You frown. “Who is this? It sounds like she isn’t worth your time. You deserve someone who’s gonna love every single bit of you.” You turn him over so he’s flat on his back, and your lips peck his gently. “Someone who’s gonna love the way you’re so dedicated to music.” You kiss his neck. “Someone who’s gonna love your stupid smile.” You kiss his collar bone. “Someone who’s gonna love your weird combination of incredible work ethic and terrible laziness.”

Yoongi smiles at you wryly, a thumb absentmindedly stroking your arm. “I don’t think she’ll ever love me in that way. And honestly? I’m so fucking tired of it.”

“Yoongi―”

“You have no idea how fucking infuriating it is. She does whatever she wants. She goes to whoever she wants. But she always comes back to me, and she never stays. If she would only stay. I bet I would make her so fucking happy. But no.”

“Who is this girl? Why have I never heard of her? It sounds like she doesn’t even care, and I don’t want that for you.”

“It’s cause she doesn’t care, Y/N,” Yoongi growls, rolling out of bed and facing you from afar. “Like I said, she’s so clueless! It doesn’t matter who it is anyway. Not like it would help.”

“How do you know? Do I know her?”

“Again, doesn’t matter,” he says as he storms out of his room. You roll your eyes in annoyance, following him out.

“It matters to me! I want to know who’s causing you this much pain!”

“God―fuck―really?” Yoongi looks like he’s about to throw something. “It’s you, Y/N! It’s fucking you! I can’t believe I fucking love you, you of all people!”

The world, in that moment, seems to spin; everything is being turned on its head, and then it stops.

“You… You love me?” You stare at him, dumbfounded. Were you really that blind? “But I…”

“But you what, Y/N?” Yoongi asks with an exasperated sigh as he sinks into the couch, burying his face in his hands. “Never wanna speak to me again? I get it. I’ll just leave―”

“No, no, no, no,” you say, tears spilling from your eyes freely now, your words getting caught in your throat. “That’s not what I―Yoongi,” you cry, falling to the ground in a heap, your emotions getting the best of you.

Despite everything he’s feeling, he’s beside you in an instant, cradling you in his arms. “Y/N, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry―”

“Yoongi, I love you,” you whisper, tears hot on your face as you grab at his shirt.  “I love you, please don’t leave me.”

“You―” and Yoongi can’t help but laugh “―love me? Oh my god. Oh my god, we’re both so stupid.”

You laugh too, your sobs drying on his shirt. He looks down at your tear-stained face and you see nothing but adoration in his eyes. How could you have missed that before?

“I’m sorry,” you say shyly, “but I was afraid. If I had known―”

“I know. Me too. Come here, baby.” He picks you up easily, carrying you into the bedroom you both had stormed out of earlier. He tosses you on, and you grab at him when he lets go, wanting nothing more than to be back in his arms. He smiles, shaking his head at you as he leans down to kiss you.

A real kiss.

A full kiss.

A kiss that says everything he’s been meaning to say.

I love you.

The kiss is sweet, but you want more. You’ve always wanted more. You pull Yoongi down on top of you, sliding your tongue into his mouth like you’ve done so often. (Of course, this time, it was all-strings-attached.) Yoongi pulls away as it gets heavier, and he’s panting as he asks, “Are you sure? This might be too fast―”

“Please,” you whine, and who’s Yoongi to say no? He slips out of his shirt and you mimic his actions; it’s everything the both of you have ever done before, yet so, so different.

“Lean back for me, babe,” he whispers, and you obey, relaxing into the bed sheets as Yoongi tongues his way down your exposed stomach. When he reaches the waistband of your shorts, he moves back up to unclasp your bra, exposing your hard nipples to him. He wastes no time in biting one while playing with the other, earning breathy whimpers from you as your arousal increases.

“F-Feels good, Yoongi,” you murmur, and you can feel him smiling against your skin.

“Just relax, baby. I’ll take care of you.”

He scoots himself down the bed as he reaches your shorts, tugging them off with a sly smile. You clench your thighs together in anticipation, eager to have Yoongi in ways you’d only been dreaming about. All yours.

“These are cute,” he says when he reveals your simple, cotton panties. Ones that you’re sure he’s seen a million times already.

“Yoongi!” you whine in embarrassment.

“What?” he laughs as he slides them down your legs.

“Why do you have to make it weird?” you complain.

He laughs again, and you can feel his breath on your center. “Of all the shit we’ve done, this is what you’re complaining about? Just let me eat you out, goddamn.”

“Hey, you’re the one who’s still talking! I’m waiting!”

“Fair point. I love you,” and you’re pretty sure he only says that to distract you before he’s licking at you full on. You cry out, not expecting as his tongue circles your clit. Your hand shoots down to his hair on instinct, grabbing at him in an attempt to either push him away or pull him closer―you’re not sure which.

“Y-Yoongi―fuck!”

Yoongi doesn’t reply, though he’s encouraged by your sounds of pleasure, kissing, sucking, and licking anywhere and everywhere in an attempt to make you undone. He laps at your clit again, loving the way you buck at him uncontrollably, driven solely by the need to cum.

And he gets to be the one to make you do so.

He slides two fingers into your dripping cunt, and you clamp your legs down around his head, temporarily forgetting that, hey, he needs to breathe. You let him up, and he looks at you, his face shining with your juices. “I mean, I have no problem suffocating between your legs.”

“Shut up.”

He lets out a giddy giggle and dives back in, licking furiously at your clit as his fingers ram in and out of you. Your hands curl around the bedsheets, the pleasurable sensation coursing through your body. The tension builds up in your abdomen, and though you try your best to vocalise your approaching orgasm, you can only shake and moan.

Good thing Yoongi already knows your body so well.

“Let go, babe. Let go.”

“Yoongi!”

You cum loudly and quickly, grinding your hips into his face as he works you through it. Your head feels dizzy with pleasure; sure, you and Yoongi have had sex before, but you don’t remember it feeling like that.

“Good?” he laughs as he works his way back up your body, taking his time with every inch of your skin. “So good for me. So pretty when you cum.”

“Let me―”

“We have plenty of time for that later. Right now, I need to be in you.”

“Then what are you waiting for?” you ask with a wiggle of your hips.

“Come here,” he growls, grabbing your legs and pulling you so that your center is flush with his. He grinds his cloth-covered cock against your center for a few seconds before pulling his dick out of his sweatpants, angry and red and dripping with pre-cum. You keen at the sight, eager to finally have him inside you.

“Yoongi, please,” you beg.

“I’ll give you what you want, baby,” he promises, “Just be patient.”

He eases his tip into you gently, hissing at the sensation. Sex with you always feels so good, but now, it feels even better. You moan as he sinks into you, his cock stretching you to the brim. Your eyes fall back in your head in pleasure.

“Fuck, Yoongi.”

“That’s a good girl. So good. Fuck, you feel so good.”

Yoongi’s head drops to your shoulder as he begins to thrust into you, and your nails are running down his back in an effort to ground yourself. Yoongi can’t wait to make fun of you for those marks later.

Your walls clench around him, coaxing him closer and closer to the edge with each thrust; your own orgasm begins to approach, beginning in your toes and climbing its way through your body until it’s centering on your pussy. The room is a mix of heavy gasps, pants, and moans, the both of you completely lost in the sensation of each other and each other only.

“Oh, god,” you moan. “Yoongi!”

“I know, baby, fuck, you feel so good around me.” Yoongi thrusts into you harder, wanting to feel you cum on his cock. “Look at me baby, are you getting close?” Your eyes meet as he thrusts into you again, and you nod, feeling completely vulnerable under his gaze. “I want you to cum on me, okay baby? Cum for me, yeah?”

“Yeah―fuck―yeah, Yoongi. I’ll be good for you. Please make me cum. Touch me, please,” you plead.

Yoongi’s hand reaches for your clit, but his eyes never leaves yours. He rubs you fast and hard as he fucks you, driving you both to the edge.

“Fuck, fuck, Y/N, fuck, I love you! I’m cumming!”

“Fuck, Yoongi!”

You cum in sync, the both of you gasping and clawing at each other as mind numbing orgasms wrack your bodies, leaving your mind pleasantly fuzzy. Yoongi pulls out gently, stopping to watch his cum drip out of your body. He smiles at you, feeling wonderfully accomplished, and places a gentle kiss on your forehead before retrieving water and a towel.

“Yoongi?” you whisper as he settles in beside you.

“Yeah, babe?”

“I love you. I love you so much. I love you.”

He laughs. “Bet I love you more.”

“Bet I love you most.”

“You bitch you set me up―”