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orchidyoonkook · 1 year ago

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The Devil Wears Valentino | MYG

Title: The Devil Wears Valentino

Pairing: Devil!Min Yoongi x (F)!Reader

Rating//Genre: (M) | One Shot, Spooky AU, Supernatural Creatures AU, Not Quite Friends to Lovers, Age Gap, Technically Slice of Life, Angst, Smut and Fluff

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

Actually, he’s almost…protective of you. In his own weird way.

And obnoxiously flirty.

Warnings: language, violence, tae is a menance, drinking and alcohol, Min Yoongi as the Devil -> Lucifer Morningstar? we dont know him, mentions of murder, mentions of torture, mentions of rape -> Sal's an ass and he deserved what he got, somewhat graphic gore/horror (yoon tries her best but she's not very good at spooky), slight POV switches, one (1) mention of reader having hair, fluffy in parts,

Explicit warnings under the cut.

Word Count: 10,488

Release Date: October 31, 2023, 12:00PM

A/N 1: Ahhhh! Welcome to my very first halloween special!!! I wanted to do something for my favourite holiday this year, and I've had this title written down without a plot for maybe just over a year? So I'm really excited to finally use it!!

A/N 1.5: Thank you to my absolute darling @katykatmeow for beta'ing this for me so late in the night. I adore you so much

A/N 2: The whiskey glass and whiskey are hand drawn vectors because I'm a glutton for punishment. Why do I keep doing this to myself.

Explicit Warnings: ahaha uhhh, unprotected sex (dont be stupid) kissing, breast play, fingering, oral (f rec), groping, pet names (sickening amount), dirty talk, praise, slight degredation, hair pulling (m rec), spitting, handjob, body worship, cowgirl, from the back, missionary, a lil bit of crying, spanking, size kink, voice kink, hand kink (look, he's a lot okay, don't blame reader), sl*t/wh*re mentions, multiple orgasms, creampie, I think thats it? Yoon went a little bananas with this one.....

Slow jazz floats through the air of the club, wading around the modestly-sized venue. You’d say it was almost cozy, but with the expensive feel of the place, cozy just didn’t seem like the right word.

Intimate. That would be a better choice.

From behind the bar where you stand, to the velvet couches in the back covered by decently dressed lesser demons, piano plays alongside gentle drums. Dark navy cushions soak in their conversation of effective torture methods, discussed like stock market trends, they dissect the best way to decapitate someone so you can instill the most pain and suffering.

The answer is always with a dull knife and from the back, blindly. Never knowing when the next cut will be is half the agony.

You try not to pay attention to that though, because the only thing you need to know is that they drink Vodka Tonics and lesser demon number four’s glass is looking to be on the emptier side.

He’ll be back for another soon.

While you wait for his arrival, the rhythmic notes continue on, gliding along shiny, black floor tiles. They pass the burgundy leather booths that face the stage, full of vampires trying to relive long lost youth in the old melodies played. They turn to stone just a little bit more with every passing minute they’re forced to live, keeping no company besides the pleasant burn down their throats and ever present melancholy.

Banshees listen in from the mezzanine, only ever soft spoken when they’re here. Covered by velvet draped ceilings that dampen sounds to the outside world, the women of three distinct ages sit at tall tables. The young in heels and short dresses, proudly showing off their youth, while the elders choose more elegant wares, content as they can be in their skin, considering their blood soaked pasts.

Banshees tend to discuss privately amongst themselves, ordering walk up service so as to never mingle with the men on the floor. You can’t blame them, especially knowing how they all got here in the first place, but they’re polite when they enter, greeting you kindly despite what you are to them. The trays you bring up for them never waver from their drink of choice, The Irish Sour.

And then there are the Djinn, who come in mostly just to pass the time. Sitting by themselves at the bar, or in no more than groups of two at a far table, they never interact with anyone other than the bartender or themselves. Djinn are increasingly solitary creatures of the night, with the fear of their kind lessening in mortals, you’re starting to see less and less of them as the days pass, and you’re almost sad to see them go.

Djinn are your favourites. They come in, order, keep to themselves, and then leave. It’s a nice change from the usual light conversation you’re forced to keep with patrons. Plus their orders are always easiest, as they only drink virgin. It’s a bit of a blow to the bar aspect of the establishment, but they come for the atmosphere, grateful to have a place they can exist with like minded folk—even if they don’t interact. There’s a comfort in familiarity, you guess.

Occasionally some other creatures of the night mix into the masses; fae, chimera, leprechauns, goblins, et cetera. All dressed in their nicest clothes to accommodate your work's dress code, all here for peace from their day jobs, to drown their sorrows, or somewhere in between.

Some come for an hour, others come for the night, but it’s mostly just your regulars who tend to remain, as do their drink orders. It’s a relatively easy job, and you don’t mind the company.

Most of the time.

You’ve just finished serving the lesser demon from earlier when your coworker bugs you for the hundredth time tonight.

“I don’t get why you're so hellbent on this, Y/N. If you’re closing, he’s coming. Because he always comes when you're closing. It’s simple math.”

“No he doesn't,” you dismiss Taehyung, a cocky but rather beautiful incubi, annoyedly. Taehyung is the type that knows he’s pretty and uses it to his every advantage, including being able to say whatever he wants and get away with it. And it would piss you off except it works on you too.

Fucking incubi demons…

You were one of only two mortal bartenders, the other being Lia, a cute blond who only works here for the tips. The boss likes to keep a couple humans on staff in case any wanderers stupid enough to come inside a den of nocturnal, evil creatures didn’t catch the vibe and immediately fuck off.

You’d be surprised at how shitty some people's self preservation instincts are.

You asked your boss once—a very large, very well built, very well connected vampire—why he bothered having a layer of protection for them. His only response was: “Business is business.”

Plus he knows he can’t have a trail of bodies that lead directly to his club's front steps, so he keeps a couple of mortals around just in case. This way, with you two here, there was always someone who knew all the drinks the humans could have, and someone to keep all the greedy eyes around the venue in check, as you have banning and kicking out privileges.

Because where you saw Kin, your regulars saw food, a hunt, or a job. They saw something to be taken advantage of or killed. They saw poor, weak, pathetic little mortals that should’ve been eradicated centuries ago had their ancestors been smarter.

They are the superior beings in their eyes, your race is just a bug to be squashed under their proverbial boot.

It makes you worry what they think of you. Is the only thing that stops them from devouring you whole the fact that you make their drinks just the way they like it, that you have a use in serving them? Or do they respect you enough now that you understand how to act around them and know what they’re like? What they are.

You worry, but you’ll never know the truth because you aren’t stupid enough to ask and show weakness. They can smell that shit from a mile away, and all it does is paint a 30 foot wide target on your back.

“Yes he does. I bet you tonight's tips he’ll be here in the next two hours,” Taehyung presses.

And ooohh, a night’s worth of tips, bragging rights, and winning a bet against Tae all sound way too good damn to pass up.

“You’re delusional,” you say, holding out a hand. Tae grabs and shakes, as you agree to his terms. “And you’re on, don’t come crying when you lose.”

There’s no way he’ll show up. It’s Friday night, the night of sin, he’s going to be up to his eyeballs with work…stuff.

“Easiest money I’ve ever made,” Taehyung grins, and with the confidence in which he does, you begin to second guess your own.

It’s not that you did or didn’t want him to show up, it’s just that your relationship with him is…complicated at best. You never really knew how to navigate a conversation with him outside of surface level banter and jokes, but it’s always been like that with you two.

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

Actually, he’s almost…protective of you. In his own weird way.

And obnoxiously flirty.

But you could never. Not with who and what you are, and who and what he is.

Regardless of how you fight the heat down in your cheeks every time you see him, and how your heart flutters against your will in multiple places in your body at even the thought of being near him.

Regardless of the fact that you shut him down every time he suggests anything more than an over the bar conversation, and the way your panties seem to always dampen in his presenc–fuck.

It’s happening again. Stop thinking about it, stop, stop st–wait. You turn, seeing the violet ichor in Tae’s eyes and you know the bitch is using his power on you. You flip the asshole off and he chuckles.

He’s been trying to get you to change your mind ever since the first time he saw you deny yourself.

“You know I can tell when you’re hot and bothered right? Incubus, remember? It’s literally part of who I am.”

To which you think again, fucking incubi…

Your most infamous regular is, to quote your favourite tv show, ‘the bane of your existence and the object of all your desires,’ and you will never, ever entertain his annoying, disgustingly hot ass more than you already do. Not after everything you went through the first—and last—time with a creature of the night.

You learned your lesson.

So instead, you try to think of him more like an old friend. The kind that’s actually really old already, but looks amazing for his age. The kind that makes shivers run up your spine when he talks to you in the deepest, most gravel turning voice you’ve ever heard, that you also ignore out of pure self preservation. He’s the kind that you shove out of your thoughts at night when your alone and in desperate need of relie—Fucking Taehyung!

You whip your head around to search for the violet eyed incubus, only to see him across the bar helping some stocky vampire. And you’re about a hair's breadth away from ripping him a new one in front of said vampire when the idle hum of chatter in the bar ceases and the band’s calming music falters into missed notes and a cymbal crash that's too hard; awkward, painful silence remaining.

From behind you, you can hear the front door close, followed by light footsteps that grow louder and louder. Only once the seat directly behind you creaks with the sound of being occupied, does the chatter and music resume.

Which can only mean one fucking thing.

You just lost all your tips for the night.

Tae’s shit eating grin as he looks over your shoulder confirms it.

Fuck.

“Excuse me,” the bottom of the ocean floor speaks and you make a conscious effort not to react.

“Ardbeg Single Malt, neat?” You throw over your shoulder, not bothering to look just yet.

You know precisely where he sits. And he knows you know.

“Sounds perfect,” he responds, and you focus on ‘looking for the bottle.’

You know exactly where it is.

No one else will touch it.

Taehyung busies himself with bringing an order of Bloody Mary’s down to a booth on the floor, knowing he’ll be burned alive if he so much as looks at a whiskey glass.

No one serves him but you.

But more importantly, nobody disrespects you in front of him. A lesson your ex–see: dead–coworker, Sal, learned the hard way. His burn mark is still seared onto the floor behind you.

You’d almost felt bad that day, but he was a lust demon who touched you without your permission, hit on you every five minutes, and when you said no, treated you like shit.

You’d been close to dousing him with vodka and lighting him up yourself, but the man tapping his fingers on the bar behind you beat you to it 15 seconds after sitting down one night last year.

After shoving Sal off you for the fourth time that night, he was pissed. Whispering obscenities to himself loud enough so you would hear,

“Fucking stupid mortal bitch, maybe next time I’ll just drag you into an alley do whatever the fuck I want. Nobody here’s going to stop me. And maybe then you’ll learn to shut up with this dick in your cunt and my fingers down your throat, huh? Leave you to rot with the garbage where you belong after you’re all used up.”

He didn’t take another breath.

A single burst of blistering flame had Sal reduced to ashes in seconds. You’d felt the heat from it, but your skin remained burn free, safe from its dangerous blaze. The lust demon from then on only existed as a smudge on the ground to be walked over.

“Thanks,” You’d said.

“It’s where he belongs,” he responded.

Grateful for his kindness, you entertained him more than usual that night. Engaged in an actual conversation, about your birthday of all things. You had no idea why he wanted to know, but you considered the information his reward for helping you, and he seemed pleased with it.

But he was more than pleased.

After years, you’d revealed something to him. Something personal.

He took it as a sign that he might be able to get you to change your mind one day, if he did everything just right. Having played the long game before, this was no different. The only thing different this time, was you.

Maybe it was the way you walked with such confidence, or the way you never cowered in fear around him. Not the day you met nor any day after. Or maybe you were sent by his father just to mess with his head. He didn’t care. All he knew was what he wanted, and that he was more than willing to wait as long as was needed to get it.

A nursery rhyme from your childhood plays in your head every time you see him. It never wavers, just like the eyes you can feel on the back of your neck, watching your experienced hands make his drink.

Quietly, you recite it to yourself while you grab the bottle;

‘One for sorrow,

Two for joy,

Three for a girl,

Four for a boy,

Five for silver,

Six for gold,

Seven for a secret never to be told.’

You pour, steady hand making it last as long as you possibly can to gain a few more seconds to compose yourself.

‘Eight for a wish,

Nine for a kiss,

Ten a surprise you should be careful not to miss,

Eleven for health,

Twelve for wealth,’

You put the bottle down and cork it before returning it to its place on the shelf. Taking a deep breath, you turn to finally face him, and change the wording of the last line to fit your situation better.

“One Ardbeg Single Malt neat, for the Devil himself.”

He snickers, “I always liked that nursery rhyme. It’s cute. Like you, Angel.”

You roll your eyes. To anyone else that would sound like a compliment. But coming from the Devil it’s more of an insult. One you know is meant in a playful way after all these years, crass in his humour, just like you. And you know he can take a little heat back.

“Wow, that’s a classic,” you grab a glass to polish, keeping your hands busy so they don’t do something stupid while you’re distracted. “Got one of those for you too, ‘Did it hurt when you fell from heaven?’”

He chokes on a laugh before straightening on the barstool and putting on a face. “I don’t think that joke’s appropriate.”

“Oh come on Yoongi, you come at me with ‘It’s cute, like you, Angel’ and I can’t poke back?” You ask, knowing full well his uncomfortable look is all an act. “I thought you didn’t have any feelings besides rage, lust and currently; insufferable flirting.”

You know the entire club listens in to your conversation.

No one calls the Devil by his first name.

Nobody speaks to the Devil unless spoken to.

And no one makes jokes at the Devil’s expense and lives.

No one except you.

What a funny little exception you are.

Yoongi drops the act, a sly smirk that sends bubbles to your brain, replacing it. “So you admit my flirting isn’t always bad. Must be doing something right then.”

You force yourself not to slam a palm into your forehead. Of course that’s what he got out of your sentence.

You aren’t going to make his ego any bigger than it already is.

“It isn’t working,”—fuck, yes it is—“if that’s what you’re asking. Can’t say I’m surprised though, I hear you’ve been out of the game for a couple millenia,” he quirks a brow at that.

Ooo, that means you’re nearing thin ice, haven't been there in a while…Let’s see if you can slide around a bit more without falling in.

“I mean, I’m sure you’ll get there eventually. If you stay consistent at your current rate of progress you could hit me up in,” you suck air in through your teeth and look at the ceiling, before checking a watch you don’t wear, pretending to think, “a thousand years?” You tease, a lilt in your tone. Because if Yoongi was going to make your shift this fucking difficult just by breathing near you, then you sure as Hell can do the same for his night.

He chuckles like the coals of a fire and you cross your legs behind the bar. Motherfucker…

“Someones got a mouth on them tonight,” he says, looking directly into your eyes as he takes his first sip, savouring the taste before swallowing. His tongue dips to his bottom lip for any remnants and you gulp, vision dropping for a millisecond—oh for the love of—and you finally notice what he’s wearing.

Much to your dismay and dwindling willpower, he looks fucking good. With only a white scarf to accent, the all black Valentino suit fits in perfectly with the bar’s dress code, as well as the long slicked back hair he’s only recently started to grow out. Just seeing it like this makes you want to run your hands through and mess it up.

You’ve always had a thing for men with long hair, ever since you were young.

Jack Sparrow, Madmartigan, even The Winter Soldier. And come to think of it, none of them were exactly the good guys in their respective universes either…

Nope! No. You can’t. You can’t.

You can’t for so many reasons, so many good and bad and everything in between reasons. You’re nothing more than a flimsy human while he’s the Great Immortal Evil. The person people whisper the name of for fear of incurring his wrath.

The King of Hell.

He’s the person that walks into a room and everyone balks under his gaze, terrified of what he may do. He’s killed millions with no mercy. Doesn’t so much as think twice to horrifically burn someone where they stand to ash in hellfire for breathing the wrong way near him. He lavishes in the screams of sinners, punished in their own blood and bones, beaten into a shell of who they were in the nine circles of Hell. Left gaping, broken and sobbing in agony for their suffering to end.

Yoongi is walking nightmares and visceral terror. He is merciless violence and brutality abandon.

Yoongi is living, breathing, unyielding death wrapped up in deceivingly beautiful packaging.

He is the epitome of someone you should not like, should not go near, and definitely should not want in the way the thrumming in your bones is telling you, you want him.

You have to stay away from him.

But that doesn’t mean you can’t flirt back a little.

As salaciously as you can muster, you whisper low, “But it’s nothing you can’t handle,” and you swear you see a hint of surprise in Yoongi’s eyes, followed by something so much deeper that you have to look away under the guise of checking for any newcomers.

It’s a dangerous game you’re playing. One you need to move the pieces of very, very carefully.

There’s a handful of people waiting to be served, but none disturb Yoongi’s service. So you’re forced and relieved to cut the interaction short. For both the waiting patrons, and your sanity.

“Enjoy the whiskey, Yoongi.”

Yoongi doesn’t bother you for the rest of the night, instead he watches you help the other patrons and make drinks. No one dares sit within three seats of him on either side, so the booths and tables fill more than the bar does, forcing you to do more tray work than you like. And you think you can feel those eyes on the back of your neck travel elsewhere.

Soon after he takes his last sip, Yoongi leaves far too much cash on the table to cover a single drink, and you know Tae won’t include it in tonight's bet. He rather enjoys being alive.

The first time he did this you tried to give it back, insisting it was too much. But one threat to Tae’s life had you accepting the outrageous amount he left you every time. Despite how much he gets on your nerves, you rather enjoy Taehyung's company on your shifts. And you didn’t want to risk having a new coworker like Sal again.

Thank you, Yoongi. You silently think to yourself every time he does. His tips are one of the only reasons you’re able to take care of yourself so well.

You live in an apartment you should not be able to afford on a bartender's wage. Eat well, buy all the brand name products for the skin care routine you could only dream of having as a teenager, and you’re able to get yourself a little treat every once in a while.

All thanks to the one man the world claimed was the purest entity of evil there was.

And maybe he is.

But not to you.

The rest of your night, and closing go smoothly. The journey home passes by in a flash and soon you’re flopping into your bed, asleep before you hit the pillow.

You dream of Yoongi and Hellfire and things only your subconscious will let you. The thoughts that you force away every time you see him.

The burn of his hands on your skin and his lips on your neck. The warmth that spreads over your entire body at the mere mention of your name from his lips. His tongue in places you wouldn’t dare allow him to even think about in the waking world.

And you wake from an orgasm he wasn't in the waking world to give you.

It’s the last Saturday in October, which means it’s also your birthday.

You found it rather funny that the one person the Devil could stand to conversate with was born on his night. Maybe that’s coincidence or maybe that’s fate, either way you didn’t care, because you had it booked off work and you were going to a bar and dancing with your friends, dressed up in the sluttiest costumes you could find.

Your recent visit with your birthday's namesake inspired your costume this year. Wearing the shortest, blood red leather dress you could find, the slits up the sides ran almost to your hips, and a corseted waist that made you feel sexy and fierce. You’d paired it with some velvet horns, a tail, pitchfork, crimson lace stockings and your most recent edition; red bottomed strappy stilettos.

They’d been your birthday present to yourself, courtesy of Yoongi’s most recent tip. And needless to say, you felt hot as shit. No one could tear you down tonight.

All your friends met at your house before ridesharing down to a club. It’s loud, hazy, and filled with other Devil’s Night party goers as you arrive, smoke lingering in the air and you can feel the wave of dancing coming from further inside.

Someone buys you your first round within a minute of being let in, lemon drop filling your taste buds as you knock back the shot. Another is ordered immediately after the first, it runs smoother and tastes like chocolate as you make your way to the dance floor.

Aside from you, your friends are dressed up as a wild mix of characters. Rey is dressed as Daphne from Scooby Doo, Yaejin is Nezuko from Demon Slayer, Bryce is a gender bent Legolas from Lord of the Rings, Declan is Donatello from the Ninja Turtles, Cam is a ghost, and Trin is a character from a book you’ve never read. Something about dragons and magic and vermin—or was it venin? Whatever. But they were in all black and had used silver hair spray on the tips of their hair.

You let the alcohol make its way through your veins as you dance, loosening up. The DJ mixes songs together in a way that never has the crowd thinning out and you laugh as you move with your friends, swaying and rocking and grinding.

You needed this.

A night out just to let go, have fun, forget everything and hopefully get lucky by the end of it. It’s been a while since you’ve taken anyone to bed, and birthday sex sounds amazing the more the lemon drop, and what you finally learned was a tootsie roll shot, settle into your system.

You aren’t drunk by any means, but you are buzzed and having a blast. An orgasm sounds like the only thing that could possibly make this night any better. So you make your way around the dance floor, keeping one eye open for any potentials, but mostly just dancing with Rey and Cam. The others either grabbing another drink back at the bar or resting their legs in a booth.

“Babe,” Rey says, hands around your neck with Cam behind you, hands on your hips. You all sway to the beat of the admittedly sensual song playing.

“Yeah?” You ask, opening your eyes to meet hers and she leans in closer.

You can hear the smile on her lips, “Major tall, dark and handsome at 9 o'clock has been eyeing you for at least a half hour. I say you ditch me and Cam and go enthrall the man with your company for a little while. We’ll be fine on our own.”

Heating at her words you’re excited to see who’s gone and done half your job for you tonight when your eyes stop dead on target.

In a private booth in the VIP section, blending in far too well with the mortals around him, he wears a button down black satin top and dress pants. Thick silver links adorn his neck, complimenting the hoops in his lobes as well as the mouth watering rings on his fingers and you’re quite sure the bottoms of his black leather shoes match the red of your own.

Yoongi.

God he looks good. Unfairly so. And he carries that knowledge with him in his movement. His confidence never wavering like a mortal’s would.

Aside from two twisting black horns you’ve never seen before protruding from his deliciously tousled hair—hair you still want to pull on until he’s making sounds no ones ever heard come out of his mouth before, now moreso than ever—Yoongi is a darker version of yourself.

Except for him, it isn’t a costume, it’s real, real, real.

And he looks like sin incarnate.

Fitting.

Fuck, you’re so screwed. What were all those reasons it could never work again? The ones that explain why you shouldn’t take the Devil home and let him fuck you into next Sunday?

Suddenly, you can’t remember any of them. Not when Yoongi’s eyes never leave your red-clad form as he sips on what you know to be subpar whiskey. Your core melts into lava at the way he looks up and down, taking all of you in like you’re the one thing on this planet he needs to survive, and he’ll stop at nothing and spare absolutely no one until he gets you.

Rey gives Cam a look and their hands drop, allowing you to almost float over to where Yoongi lounges, maneuvering between bodies undulating to music that’s being deafened by the heartbeat in your ears.

When you reach him, you leave a somewhat respectable distance between you two, a step down from the dias the booth sits on.

Seeing him so much clearer now, you almost whine. How does he look even better up close? You want to sit on his lap, his face, have him bend you over the table then flip you over and feast like a man starved.

Fuck! No, you can’t. And you also can’t blame Tae for those thoughts either, he isn’t here.

They were all you.

Maybe his plan was working after all…

“What are you doing here?” You manage, grateful that you hadn’t had more to drink, but even more grateful for the ones you did. You needed a little liquid courage right now, even if it turned your thoughts into gutter sewage.

What he doesn’t know can’t hurt you…right? You just have to keep a lid on it. The one that’s loosening the more you look at him.

“It’s your birthday,” he says, producing a small black box wrapped with a bow. “I have a gift.”

He…he got you a present? He’s never done that before. But then again, before last year, he never knew when it was.

“You remem—I—you didn’t have to get me anything,” you stutter ungracefully, mouth trying to keep up with your racing thoughts. “I already got these shoes with the tip you left me last time,” you say, extending your leg to show off your newest purchase. The action reveals more leg than you meant it too and he catches the garter you have pulled around your thigh.

A fire ignites in his eyes at the sight, and you can feel their sparks everywhere he looks. Starting at your toes and moving all the way up back to your pretty irises.

“I’m flattered by the way,” he says. “In your costume choice.”

Huh? You look down and heat rises to your cheeks in a way it never has before. Oh fuck, oh fuck. Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit!

Here you stand, before the actual Devil—horns out in all their glory—dressed as him on his namesake night.

Of course this would happen to you, of course it would. This is what you get for fucking around. You found out. And you don’t know whether to be mortified, beg for forgiveness, or laugh yourself hoarse.

Going with none of the above, you choose to play it off instead, the way you always do when he manages to fluster you. “Consider me inspired by how recently I last saw you,” you say, taking the single step up the dias and twirling for him.

You show every angle of your costume you can, letting the booze in your system do its job of making you more confident than you currently are.

“What do you think?”

Yoongi stands, taking the two strides needed to be face to face with you, his voice is quiet and even, so only you can hear.

“May I touch?”

You don’t hesitate.

“Yes.”

Yoongi reaches behind you and pulls the fake tail from the back of your dress, then the pitchfork from your grasp and throws them into the booth, not caring where they land.

“Mmm,” he hums, placing his hands on your hips and spinning you once more. Lightning strikes every single nerve ending where his fingertips meet your body.

This time when he speaks, his voice is touched with the bit of demon that’s inside of him, dragging its claws along the floor of the 9th circle of Hell as he growls, “You’re perfect.”

Your heart does backflips and cartwheels and nose dives all at once. You’ve never heard him sound like that before, and if your panties weren’t wet before, they definitely are now.

Tugging gently, he guides you to the booth, sitting first before dragging you over his lap, knees meeting his hips. One of his hands rests on your thigh while the other reaches for something you can’t be bothered to figure out because oh my god, oh my god, you’re straddling him. Your straddling the Devil, dressed as the devil and probably already looking semi-fucked out while you do. This is probably a bad idea—no. This is definitely a bad idea. But you also have absolutely zero plans to stop literally anything that’s happening.

The gift box makes a reappearance, and he hands it over to you.

“Thank you,” you say automatically, trying and failing to ignore the fact that both of his hands now rest on your thighs. Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck…..

Undoing the little black bow, you open it, revealing a delicately simple necklace. Its light weight chain holding a small pink stone pendant.

Beautiful.

“Pink Tourmaline,” Yoongi says.

“My birthstone,” you reply.

“Your birthstone.”

You stare at the little crystal, cut and polished to perfection. Not a single flaw.

“Yoongi I—I don’t know what to say. It’s incredible…Thank you,” you take it out of the box, profoundly grateful you decided not to wear a necklace tonight. “Could you help me put it on?”

“Of course, Angel,” he agrees. But this time when he says your nickname, it’s different. Like an unholy vow made only to you.

Makes you wonder what he promised.

Regretfully removing yourself from his lap, you turn around, only to be dragged back down by strong fingers.

Your ass is now flush against his dick, and it’s taking everything in you not to tease. Whether you’d be teasing him or yourself, you don't know, nor do you care. All you know is that friction can be a good thing if you want it to be. And you're starting to want it to be.

Lifting your hair for him, Yoongi fastens the necklace around your column, and to your complete and utter doom, places a gentle kiss at your nape. The simple contact makes you quietly moan, and you feel a twitch under you.

Ohhh, this is bad, this is so bad. But you can’t bring yourself to stop him. Not when his hands roam up and down your back, your sides, your hips. Exploring, feeling, learning. You dissolve into the touch, welcoming every whisper of pleasure they bring.

What is he doing to you?

“Angel,” Yoongi purrs in your ear.

“Mmm?”

“Would you like to dance?”

Fuck would you ever, but wait—

“Are you asking me if I’d like to Dance with the Devil?” you muse.

Yoongi chuckles lowly, understanding the meaning behind your ask.

“Is that something you’d be interested in?”

“Yes.”

You feel more than hear the dark rumble coming from his chest before he gently taps on your thigh. And you get up quickly.

“That’s a good girl,” he says, and fuck could you ever get used to him saying that to you.

Fingers laced in his, he lets you guide him to the dance floor.

Both of you ignore what the DJ plays, instead moving to the rhythm you feel like. Slow, sensual, a hand on his neck while you grind into him. Fast and heated, bodies touching any and every place you can get contact. You’re putting on quite the show for anyone brave enough to watch. And you know at least a handful of the eyes you feel on you are your friends’.

They don’t know about Yoongi.

They don’t know about the nature of the clientele at your job either, like every other human. They don’t know you're dancing with the most dangerous and volatile man in the room. And it’s better that way, because if they did, your ass would’ve been hauled out of the club and in a rideshare the second anyone saw him.

You’ve never been more thankful for the figurative wall between worlds. And the fact that you stand on both sides.

You brush up against his hardening dick and fuck, that’s it.

You’ve decided.

To hell with your reasons. To hell with the constant flirting and overuse of will power.

To hell with letting your anxieties and your moral compass and your conscience get in the way of the one thing you’ve been denying yourself for years.

You spin in Yoongi’s hold, looking straight into the darkened eyes of the most forbidden man you could ever want for yourself, only to see pure desire staring right back. It’s all you need before you’re crashing your lips to his, taking anything and everything you can get before one of you comes to your senses and pulls back.

But his grip on you tightens like a vice, pulling you closer, bodies flush amidst the dancing crowd. He’s magnetic in his want, lifting a hand to the back of your neck and tracing the seam of your lips with his tongue.

You let him in without hesitation and he nearly swallows you whole with how he invades your mouth, claiming it for himself. It makes you moan and he lets up, if only to let you breathe for a moment, and you take this reprieve to whisper in his ear, finally giving in to what you crave more than anything.

“Let’s go to yours.”

“We should go to yours, Angel, mine’s a bit harder to get to.”

Because his is on another plane of existence. Not exactly a taxi ride away. At least not one you can get at the curb of the club.

“Riiight.” A small dose of water washes over the fire in your core, and it’s like he can sense it because immediately, he’s pulling you back in. Nothing but teeth and lips and tongue, animalistic in the passion you’re displaying for everyone to see, the flames increasing tenfold.

Fuck, you don’t want to wait.

And apparently neither does Yoongi.

“Do you trust me?” He asks.

“Yes, but what does tha–”

“Close your eyes for me, Love.”

Any and all arguments fade on your tongue at the new pet name. So much warmer than Angel, so much more affectionate.

So you close your eyes for him, no questions asked. Because you trust him. You trust the Devil.

You trust Yoongi.

“That's a good girl.”

One hand goes to the back of your neck, the other your lower back as he kisses you gently. So gently you think it means something more, but the sounds of the club are fading away, and he’s leaning you down like he’s going to dip you before your back meets something soft.

Are you closer to a booth than you thought? Is he really going to take you here in front of all those people?

But when you open your eyes and your bedroom at your apartment fills your vision, you stiffen immediately.

What?

“I—but we were just—and now we’re he—and you—,” you stutter, amazed and unable to get the thoughts out fast enough before another takes its place. You manage a, “How?” and he catches on.

Not halting his actions, “Consider it a job perk,” he explains, nipping at your neck. You let out a groan as he continues his way down your column towards your chest and you relax into his touch.

“Teleportation, in simple terms, but it’s a bit more complicated than that.”

Despite his mouth on your skin, you somehow find the clearness of mind to ask, “Did anyone see?” Thinking about your friends and the potential hundreds of onlookers.

Yoongi’s hands rest at top of the zipper that goes the entire length of your dress, allowing for both easy putting on and quick removal. Fingers tug gently on the slider, eyes meeting yours for consent. You nod, and he answers your question as he drags it down your body torturously slow, savouring every moment he’s worked so hard to get.

He’s going to earn this privilege you’ve given him, if it's the last thing he does.

“No. And your friends won’t worry either.”

You don’t care how he knows that, not when he’s pulling off hot leather and devouring your curves with coal burning pupils. The cool air of your room causes goosebumps to rise everywhere, and your arms fly to your head, covering your eyes as you’re reminded you’d forgone a bra tonight.

There was no room for one without it squishing your tits too much and ruining the look. So with your dress gone, Yoongi has a front row seat to your nearly nude form, a blood red lace thong the only thing keeping you semi-decent.

Years of pining and denial have led up to this moment and Yoongi almost doesn’t know where to start now that he finally has you exactly where he wants you. That feeling doesn’t last long though.

Wasting no more time, he takes a breast into his palm, squeezing and massaging while he lowers himself to the other, lapping the nipple of the one neglected. His tongue swirls over the pert bud, sucking it into his mouth fully and you arch into his touch, reveling in the warmth he spreads across your chest. Hands reaching for the sheets above your head for something to ground you.

“Shit,” you can already feel your pulse in your ears, thundering behind your sternum, and booming lower. He’s barely touched you and you’re already so gone.

He switches his hand and mouth, soothing the other breast with the sinful muscle he’s teased you with after all these years drinking whiskey. And by god if you don’t immediately think what it could do in other places. He’s had thousands of years to practice and the gush you feel in your panties lets you know exactly how you feel about the idea.

Using his free hand, Yoongi traces down your back, rounding your ass and squeezing hard enough to make you hiss in pleasure before settling on the back of your thigh.

You can barely stand having his hands so close to your molten heat without having any contact, and it leaves you begging, “Please…Please…”

You feel the curve of his lip quirk as teeth gently scrape the sensitive bud, gasping when he pulls off.

“Please what, Love?”

“More,” you pant. “Please. Anything. Everything. Please just touch me.”

“Mmm,” he’s back at your neck, inhaling your scent, one hand still on your thigh while the other holds him up by your ear. “Pretty Girl has manners after all, huh?”

“Oh fuck you.” you bristle, but it seems to be the reaction he’s looking for. A deeper, sluttier part of you awakening at the words you want to prove both wrong and right.

“There she is.”

Diving back into your neck, Yoongi trails wet, open mouthed kisses down, down, down. And even though you’ve never been so wet, so in the moment, and so unbelievably turned on before, the human part of you wins for a second, as you try to close your legs.

They’re pulled back open in an instant, his eyes never wavering from yours as he says, “Don’t you dare get shy on me now,” a kiss to your inner thigh. And then the other as he kneels before you.

Yoongi places each foot on either of his shoulders and you’re surprised he’s kept on your garter, stockings and red bottoms, their heels digging into his flesh. You wonder if that hurts at all, but by the way his eyes flutter and almost roll into the back of his head at the pressure they place on his frame, you think he actually likes their sting.

“You’re the most exquisite creature I have ever seen. Absolutely no part of you could ever be undesirable to me.”

His earnest tone makes you believe him, convinces you, and you’re once again pliant in his hold, opening up for him.

“Look at me,” he says, and you do. You stare directly at the Devil between your thighs. The King knelt before your lowly mortal form. “You are the most powerful person in this room, understand?”

You nod, but that’s not good enough for him.

“I need to hear it.”

“I understand.”

“Understand what?” He pushes.

“I’m the most powerful person in this room,” and it feels bold to say in front of him. But watching the way Yoongi’s expression fills with pride makes it also feel good. He wants you to feel like you’re the one in charge.

“Remember that,” he says, before ripping your underwear off and throwing them on the floor, feasting his now wholly black eyes on the sight of your dripping pussy.

The more he loses himself in you, the more of his true form reveals itself.

“Fuuuckk,” he whispers more to himself than anything. “So wet…”

Your core is tormented and throbbing at the back and forth between the cold night air and Yoongi’s hot breath and you whine, “I just bought those!”

He spares you one completely unsympathetic look.

“Don’t care. I’ll buy you more,” a deliciously ringed finger slides along your drenched folds and you’re gasping. “I’ll buy you the entire fucking store if it means I get to see you like this.”

Your voice is airy as you give in, any and all outrage gone. “Oka—ohhh!”

His mouth is on your cunt before you can breathe in the oxygen you so desperately need. He’s not holding back and your movements are not your own as you squirm. An arm rounds your pelvis holds you down, keeping you there as he devours you whole and shows you no mercy.

“Fuck, fuck, oh my god Yoongi,” you cry out, having never felt anything like this before. His tongue circles your clit as he sucks, then glides down, penetrating your opening with thrusts that make you lightheaded.

Your hands fly to his locks, pulling and pushing him down further until you're pretty sure you’re drowning him in you. Your fingertips graze his horns and it’s just a reminder that this man is definitely not human. Definitely not someone you should be letting suck your soul out through your pussy. And that makes this whole situation that much hotter.

If he minds where you touch, he doesn’t say anything about it, only groaning as he repeats his motions to get you near your peak, again and again and again until you're quaking against your will and your body is vibrating with every throb from your core.

Every single nerve ending you have is awake and being put to good use, he’s making sure of it. The dam that holds your release is starting to crumble and you don’t know how much longer you can last like this before you’re screaming bloody murder under his grip.

“Yoon…Yoongi—fuck,” you stutter, staggered breaths from your trembling chest loose as you try to verbalize, “C-close. S-so close.”

He hums, and teases a finger around your entrance, circling a few times before pressing in and up to your g-spot. The simple action undoes you and you're coming with a force you can’t even begin to describe. The waves crash down, over and over and you're moaning and cursing his name at the same time, knowing it’s going to be the only one you’ll think of in this situation from now until forever.

He guides you through the last shockwaves as you come down, and when you’re too sensitive for him to continue, you drag him up to your lips, tasting his efforts on your tongue.

“Need you now,” you rush out between kisses.

“Not yet, Love,” he says, pulling back just enough to reach a hand between the two of you.

He slips two fingers inside and swallows the resulting moan from your lips as he goes so deep enough you can feel his rings proding your opening.

“Gotta stretch you out for me first.”

Your hands are back in his hair, nails scratching the nape of his neck as he begins to scissor you open expertly. He growls into your neck at the sensation and that confirms your suspicions of him liking a little pain with his pleasure. So you scratch further down his neck, onto his shoulders and back and you dig a heel into his thigh.

“Fuck, Angel,” fingers stuttering for a second. “Don’t do that unless you want me to come right now.”

“And if I do?”

“Not yet.”

“Why not?”

“Because the first time I come, it’ll be with you around my cock, soaking the sheets with your own.”

Head rolling back, his words going straight to your clit. “Fuck, okay.”

“Now give me another one, Pretty Girl,” he says, picking up speed with his digits. “I know you can, pretty little slut takes my fingers so well.”

Fuck, fuck, fuck…

You can feel it coming this time, building and building. He uses his thumb to rub over your sensitive nub and it has you unraveling under him, screaming out and almost sobbing at the convulsions your body makes. He takes your mouth with his again, consuming your pleasure in every form he can get.

And once you come down, you’ve had it. If you don’t have him inside you within the next 2 minutes you’re going to lose it.

Ripping at his shirt, you're fumbling with the buttons. “Fuck, take this off, and those,” you say, abandoning his shirt for his belt.

Yoongi chuckles, low and sinful, “Bossy,” but gets up, and begins removing the outfit that got you into this situation in the first place. You take off the remnants of your costume as he spares you no peace of mind, the way you did him, taking off his pants and boxers in one go, freeing his mouth watering bulge from its earthy confines.

“Oh fuck me,” you say at his size. He’s big, girthy and you’ve never wanted someone inside you so badly before.

Yoongi smirks as he crawls over you, but you stop him with a hand. “Wait,” you throw a leg over his hip, and flip the two of you so you’re on top. “Let me do this.”

“Whatever you want, Angel.”

Picking up his cock, it sits heavy in your hand as you give him a couple strokes. He hisses at the contact and it only spurs you on, gathering as much saliva as you can, you open your mouth to spit, rubbing it all over his shaft and head, mixing it with the precum dribbling out of the tip.

“Fuck—”

Your 2 minutes are up. Lifting your ass, you guide yourself onto him.

“Oh my fuck, oh fuck,” you say as you slide down slowly, the stretch still very much there as he bottoms out. “Big—ohh, shit—so big.”

Yoongi’s not faring much better, eyebrows pressed together, but eyes devouring the spot where your bodies meet. His breathing is so laboured you’d think he just ran a marathon.

“So tight, Love...Fuck, look at you.”

The delicious sting subsides and you start to move, slow but purposeful thrusts that have him kissing your cervix every time. Fuck he’s so deep, deeper than anyone else has ever been. And once you get a rhythm going there’s no stopping you. You become a force of nature as you bounce on his cock without abandon, taking this for yourself. You don’t know why, but you feel like you have a point to prove and by god you’re going to make it.

Because if the Devil chose you, you’re going to make damn sure he doesn’t regret it.

“Fuck, fuck you’re doing so good,” he rasps, throwing his head back into the pillows, eyes shut in pure bliss, murmuring. “Feels so good.”

His praise pushes you farther, riding harder, grinding your clit against his pelvis, owning both your pleasures.

You’re the most powerful person here.

You are the one in control despite being on top of arguably the most powerful man on the planet. It makes you feel safe and strong and invincible.

And you want to continue, you really do, but your legs are starting to give, so you let him know.

“Ass up for me then,” he says, and you listen, climbing off of him and wincing at the feeling of him slipping out. He gets behind you, lining himself up again and this time it’s much easier as he sinks in, both of you groaning at the contact.

Yoongi hands go to your hips, gripping and squeezing and molding the globes of your ass as you anchor your cheek to the bedsheets.

“That’s it, Pretty Girl, all the way down for me.”

His first thrust has you seeing stars. You're nothing and everything as he continues, but you need more. You need to not be able to speak. To walk. You need to have every thought fucked out of your head. You need him so deep you’ll feel it for a week afterwards.

“Faster,” you beg. “Harder, please.”

“There are those manners I was looking for,” he says and picks up his pace.

You’re incoherent, saying things you’ve never dared to utter out loud before, making admissions you swore to take to your grave and Yoongi is eating up every single last one of them.

Because this is about you. This is about proving years of your denial’s fruitless. This is about him and how you make him lose every ounce of self control he has when he’s around you and how badly he’s wanted you since the day you met. This is about ruining every other man for you, making sure you know what true pleasure feels like, know how you deserve to be treated, and hearing his name on your lips when you come. When your cunt clenches so hard he has to fight tooth and nail to milk every ounce of bliss from it.

This is about him wanting to hear him make you feel good. Needing to hear him make you feel good.

This is about you.

And he can feel you starting to clamp up again, can feel you getting close. So he wraps an arm around your waist, fingers going straight for your pussy.

You shriek, body consumed by the even strokes he delivers as well as the smooth circles around your most sensitive spot, and he revels in it. This is what he’s been dreaming of, what he’s desired over everything else.

You, underneath him in so much pleasure you’re almost non-verbal.

Perfect in every single way.

“Taking me so well, dirty girl. Love the feeling of my cock splitting you open?” he hears a muffled cry and you nod your head. “Knew you would, knew you could take me.”

He delivers a smack to your ass and he feels you clench, so he soothes the battered area before handing out another, soothing that one out too.

“You’re so good for me, pretty little whore so greedy, sucking me in. Why’d you make me think you didn’t want me all these years, hmm? Was I not good enough for you?”

You bury your face in your sheets. Well that certainly won’t do. So he slows his fingers as he reiterates. “Was I not good enough for you then, Angel? Am I good enough for you now?”

“Yes,” you mutter, barely loud enough to hear.

“What was that?” he slows again to a near burningly slow pace, soaking in the feel of you around his fingers and dick. It feels like a place he once called home.

“Yes!” you bellow. “So good…so good to me…more than enough.”

The praise fuels him, and he picks up the speed of everything, cock pounding you into the mattress, fingers rubbing an achingly mind-blowing pattern on your clit. It pushes you over the edge for the third time tonight, your fluttering cunt around his dick almost has him losing it. Almost has him coming undone with you, but he manages to hold it back.

Not yet.

You're silent in your screams this time, overwhelmed with the feelings, fingers nearly ripping your sheets in half at how hard it hit you. How hard you contract around him.

Oh he’s never going to get sick of this feeling.

Ever.

And instead of guiding you down this time, he removes himself quickly, flips you over on your back and inserts himself once more.

He needs that feeling again. Needs you again. You claimed him for yourself whether you knew it or not all those years ago, he was simply following orders. He was yours the second your eyes met for the first time and he’s never looked back since. No one was ever good enough from that moment on, not a single creature on any plane of existence.

There was only you.

Yoongi’s never felt anything so pure and so sinful and so right as you pulsing around him does. He exists only for this feeling. Only for you. It took a couple thousand years, but at least now he knows.

And so he doesn’t slow down, pushing you through your oversensitivity.

It’s time for him to finally claim you back.

“I can’t,” you beg, “it hurts.”

“Not for long, Pretty Girl” he says in his lowest registar. “You can take it, I know you can. Give me one more, I know you have it in you.”

Yoongi’s noticed his words have almost the same effect on you as his motions, so he uses them to their full potential. And as he can sense your fourth orgasm about to land, you surprise him by whispering directly into his ear and raking your nails down his back as hard as you can.

“Only for you, Yoongi.”

His thrusts stutter.

“Fuck!”

He’s coming.

He’s coming hard. With you, with your name on his lips. It's violent and visceral and vicious and vibrant. It’s beautiful. You’re combined divine deliverance.

It’s the first time he’s said your name.

And it’s something he’s going to keep locked away in his memory for millenia to come as he covers your inner walls in the most sickeningly sweet shade of white.

You’re relentless, milking him over and over and over for all he’s worth, not letting up until your body is ready too, ruthless in your quest for ultimate euphoria and he takes it.

Whatever you want. Whatever you need.

It’s yours.

He’ll make it so.

At whatever cost to him, you'll get it. There isn't a doubt in his mind as you finally come down, body lighter, eyes glazed over, devastating smile on your lips.

He’s the first to move, going to the bathroom and grabbing a warm, wet cloth to clean you up. You’re blissfully spent, unable to get up even if you wanted to, limbs like jelly, still in a brain fogged haze.

You got exactly what you wanted.

He cleans his release from your form, naked save for the pink stone he gave you around your neck. Then tosses the cloth in your hamper and lies back down, covering you both with sheets. You cuddle up to him, tossing a leg around his torso, and lying your head on his chest. Contented.

And he’s silent until he can’t stand it any longer. He has to know.

“What changed?”

“Hmm?”

“What about tonight made you change your mind?”

You take a deep breath through your nose. “I…stopped fighting it. The feeling like we would never work, the feeling that I would never be good enough, that we were too different,” he listens intently as your fingers trace patterns on his chest, explaining. “And I was sick of denying myself. It’s my birthday. Shouldn't I get whatever I want on my birthday?”

That seductive smirk makes an appearance.

“Yes.”

“Plus you looked to damn fine in that outfit. A girl only has so much willpower, you know? It’s easier at work when there’s a bar and my job between us, but there was none of that tonight. Just the shots in my system and my unwavering desire to ride your face.”

Yoongi laughs, and you don’t think you’ve ever seen something as beautiful as his smile before.

“Next time,” he says. A promise.

You fall back into a comfortable silence that has you thinking.

“What about you?” you ask.

“What about me?”

“Why am I the only one you like? The only one you put up with.”

He ponders for a moment, thinking about how to phrase what he wants to say.

“I think about the time we met often. There was something about you that was different that day, and I’ve never been able to pinpoint exactly what, but when I saw you I knew I would never think of you the same way I do everyone else. There was something special about your gaze in mine, your company, your soul.”

“My soul?”

“Mhm.”

“You’ve never asked for mine before.”

“Never needed it.”

At that, you joke, “Is there something you’d sell your soul for?”

“You.”

Before you can say all the nothing in your head at his answer, he takes a deep breath that has you rising and falling with it. Something about what he’s going to say next is going to have heavy importance to him.

You just know it.

“You… made me—make me…want to be better. Do better.”

You’re speechless. Not the kind you were moments before. No, you’re truly and genuinely speechless.

You never expected anything like that.

You knew your presence in his life carried a different weight than others, a different air. It’s why you could speak so casually, insult him, and exist near him without fearing for your life. It was something no one had seen from him in thousands of years.

Kindness. Patience.

The man who’s job it is to run the universes torture capital, punishing those who deserve it without an ounce of mercy for eternity and killing those who looked at him the wrong way. The physical entity of the word evil, wanted to be better.

Because of you.

“I don't know what to say.”

“You don't need to say anything,” he kisses the top of your head, tender. “Having you with me is more than enough.”

You can do that.

“Okay,” you say, craning your neck to kiss him. It’s long, languid, and full of emotions you don't want to acknowledge right now, there’s too many of them to sort through in your post four orgasms brain to be able to process properly.

Tomorrow you can start. Right now you just want to bask in the afterglow of the most amazing birthday you've ever had.

“So this wasn’t a one time thing?” Yoongi clarifies.

“It definitely wasn't a one time thing,” not a chance in Hell.

He was yours now.

The Devil was yours.

King of the Underworld, god among men, catastrophe breathing evil was yours. And it brings the biggest smile to your face.

“Oh thank fuck.”

“Not thank God?” you tease.

Yoongi groans. “Do not bring my father into this.”

A/N 3: As always, thanks for reading, loves. Xoxo, - Yoon <3

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yunkiiiiimarymeee · 9 months ago

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Sugar, sugar, my suga(r)

#bangtan #bangtan suga #bangtan yoongi #bts #bts suga #bts yoongi #min yoongi #yoongi #min suga #bangtan sonyeondan #bangtan army #bangtan boys #bts army #agustd #agust d #agust d tour #suga #suga bts

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poutyniall · 2 years ago

Video

tumblr

‘’... as you know, my voice will turn you on, whether it's a guy or girl my tongue will make you come...’‘

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chimcess · 4 months ago

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Bittersweet || myg (2)

Pairing: Yoongi x ReaderOther Tags: Grad Student!Yoongi, Undergrad!Reader, Grad Student!Hoseok, Uncle!Namjoon, Doctor!Namjoon, Grad Student!Jimin, Fuckboy!Jungkook, GradStudent!Jungkook, Boss!Seokjin, Yoongi POV Genre: College!AU, Strangers to Lovers, Enemies to Lovers, kinda Student/Teacher but not really, Older!Yoongi, Fluff, Angst, Eventual Smut Word Count: 19.9k+ Summary: When a cynical graduate student meets an overly enthusiastic undergraduate, the air crackles with tension—though not all of it is good. Warnings: Mean!Yoongi, bitter grad student to the max, strong language, Jimin is still a snitch, possible wrong science information (i'm sorry i'm not perfect), sexual tension, Yoongi pining and being in love for almost 20k words, kissing at work, almost caught, graphic s*x scenes, non-descriptive smut as well, Jealous!Yoongi, i'm sorry but this JK is kind of a slime ball, Reader knows what she's doing, they're adorable, lots of bickering, drunk Yoon, drunk texting, they're both the biggest dorks on the planet, reader sleep talks, multiple sex scenes, oral (m&f receiveing), vaginal fingering, vaginal sex, handjobs, all things considered these two are very vanilla, some dirty talk, reader mostly takes charge, public sex, sex at work, shower sex, again they're still dorks even when they're in bed, let me know if I missed anything... A/N: Here's the second (and final) installment of this little two-shot. Thanks for reading!

I decided not to make a fuss about the stupid recruitment party. It was just a way for them to shove fresh-faced recruits down our throats, anyway. Instead of hitching a ride with Hoseok and Serena, I opted to walk alone, letting the cool night air wash over me. The campus felt both familiar and alien in the twilight, the shadows stretching long and eerie across the cracked pavement. Walking had always been my way of clearing my head, but tonight it felt like a futile exercise.

As soon as I stepped inside the venue, the noise slammed into me—laughter, chatter, and the clinking of glasses mingling into a chaotic symphony of youthful energy. I scanned the room, and when my eyes landed on her, I couldn’t help but groan. Y/N was there, and she was wearing those jeans—God, they looked painted on, hugging her curves in a way that sent my pulse racing. Her legs stretched endlessly, accentuated by those unforgiving black heels that screamed danger. My throat tightened with the realization: she was wearing fuck-me heels.

Fuck me indeed…

I shook my head, forcing myself to look away, as if her mere presence was some twisted magnet pulling me closer. I made my way to the bar at the back, seeking refuge against the wall while I nursed a drink, pretending to be absorbed in the chaos around me. But it didn’t take long before my eyes betrayed me, drawn back to her like a moth to a flame. She was laughing with a group of kids—probably this year’s recruits—her smile radiant and infectious.

Then, like a bad omen, Jungkook sauntered in, drink in hand, striding over to her with that cocky grin of his.

“Yoongi’s here! Let the party begin!” Serena’s voice cut through my thoughts, grating like nails on a chalkboard. I grimaced.

“What took you so long? Had trouble matching that sweater?” Hoseok appeared behind her, donning a tie that screamed ‘pretentious.’

I shot Serena a look, raising an eyebrow, and she responded with a smirk, clearly reveling in my discomfort.

“Yeah… not all of us have the privilege of being dressed by our girlfriends,” I muttered, bitterness creeping into my tone.

“Come on… I kid, I kid,” Hoseok laughed, draping an arm over my shoulder.

“I’ll leave you two to your bromance,” Serena rolled her eyes, tossing her hair back. “I better go suck up to my P.I.”

“How are you?” Hoseok’s tone shifted, sensing the dark cloud hanging over me.

“I’m peachy,” I replied, sarcasm dripping from my voice.

“I see…” He glanced in Y/N’s direction. “Oh… I see.”

“Yeah, well, Jungkook’s trying to get her drunk,” I hissed through clenched teeth, watching as he leaned in closer.

“Right. Jeon’s all over your zygote’s business,” he replied, a knowing smirk on his lips.

I groaned into my beer, bitterness churning in my stomach.

“C’mon! More drinking, less brooding!” He smacked my back playfully, but it only deepened the pit of resentment growing inside me.

An hour later, I was still a wallflower, slouched against my corner, shamelessly staring at Y/N as she flitted around the room. Jungkook kept swooping in like a hawk, but she brushed him off, her laughter echoing like a melody in the air. That was a relief, at least. Yet, reality settled in like a thick fog: she hadn’t even noticed me yet.

Then, our eyes locked. Time seemed to freeze, and I swear I involuntarily smiled. She walked toward me, a small grin dancing on her lips, and I was struck by how her hair flowed over her shoulders, the softness of it almost intoxicating. “Is that a new sweater?” she asked, her voice sweet and melodic.

“Are you making fun of me?” I shot back lightly.

“No…” she chuckled, her eyes sparkling. “You look good.”

“You look good too,” I replied, the words feeling flat against the brilliance of her presence. Well, that was an understatement—she looked stunning.

“You shouldn’t be drinking,” I said, gesturing to the beer in her hand, feeling an unexpected rush of protectiveness.

“Why not?” She brought the bottle to her mouth, her lips wrapping around it like an invitation.

Focus, Min!

“Are you twenty-one yet?” I blurted out, curiosity getting the better of me.

“Are you the party police?”

“Very funny,” I deadpanned, annoyance creeping in as I waited for her answer.

“If you must know, I am twenty-one already, thank you very much.”

“You are?” I was genuinely surprised. She didn’t seem old enough to be a senior, not with that wide-eyed enthusiasm.

“Yep, I missed a year in junior high. No biggie.” She shrugged, casual as ever.

“Oh…” The admission surprised me, stirring questions in my mind. What could have caused someone as smart and driven as her to miss a year?

My distraction drifted away as my gaze returned to her shoulders, delicate freckles dusting her skin, catching the fading light.

“Oh! I haven’t met that one!” Y/N quipped, spotting another recruit. “Be right back.”

I was entranced, eyes glued to her as she walked away, her hips swaying like a pendulum, counting down the moments until she returned. I was royally screwed. Somewhere along the way, I’d transformed from oblivious to hyper-aware, every single action of hers magnified under the microscope of my attention. How could I go back to not seeing her when each new thing I noticed sent heat flooding through me?

Y/N returned, all smiles, clutching another beer bottle that she’d snatched from Jungkook. “Why are you so angry?” she asked, leaning against the wall next to me.

“Y/N, I’m not angry. I’m having fun.” I tried to sound calm, but my voice cracked like thin ice.

“This is you having fun?” she countered, gesturing to my slumped posture with her beer.

“Yes,” I insisted, though my gaze lingered on the constellation of freckles scattered across her nose.

“Standing in the corner, looking at everyone like you’re a bodyguard, or an undercover cop—that’s you having fun?”

“Yes.” I shrugged, clinging to some semblance of composure.

“You’re angry.” She tilted her head, her eyes narrowing in playful challenge.

“I’m not angry!” But deep down, the heat was rising inside me.

She laughed, the sound bubbling up like a mountain spring. “You’re frowning.”

“Because you’re driving me insane!” I inhaled deeply, trying to relax, but she was intoxicating.

“Why?” She stepped closer, her presence an electric charge in the air.

“Because you’re too happy.” And adorable…

“What’s wrong with being happy?” she retorted, her hand perched on her hip, radiating defiance.

My eyes drifted back to her, tracing the curve of her hip accentuated by those devilish pants. I closed my eyes, taking another deep breath to steady myself. “It’s extremely annoying.”

“Well, I’m sorry.” Her smile morphed into a giggle, and I groaned, feeling the weight of my frustration. “Do I really annoy you so much?”

She peered at me, eyebrows knitting together, a small frown blossoming on her face. I resisted the urge to look at her lips, afraid that if I did, I might just pull her in and kiss her right there.

“Yes,” I groaned, hoping my eyes conveyed that my answer was really “no.”

She held my gaze, and it felt like we were suspended in time, the world around us fading into insignificance. My fingers tightened around the neck of my beer bottle, anxiety coiling in my stomach. With a sigh, she shook her head and walked away again, leaving me alone with my turbulent thoughts.

Honestly, Y/N’s unyielding happiness, her enthusiasm, and all that radiance—it wasn’t annoying at all. It was refreshing, endearing, and it inspired me in ways I hadn’t felt in years. I couldn’t help but remember the excitement I once felt about starting this journey, how my heart raced at the thought of diving into research. What had changed? What did success even mean if there was no one to share it with?

So yes, Y/N’s happiness was far from annoying.

What was truly infuriating was that she made it impossible for me to keep my hands to myself.

“Jungkook offered to walk me home,” Y/N said, her voice slicing through the murmur of the crowd like a knife. I kept my gaze fixed on the throng, avoiding her bright eyes, filled with something I couldn’t quite decipher. “But I don’t know if that’s such a good idea.”

When I finally turned to look at her, a smile tugged at her lips, a spark of mischief lighting her features. “I think you might be right about him—he is kind of a tool.”

A snort escaped me, the tension in my chest easing just a fraction. “Plus I don’t trust him.”

“I don’t trust him either, Y/N,” I admitted, feeling the weight of my own words. It was the only reason I was here, shadowing her like a ghost.

“Can I lie and tell him you’re walking me home instead?”

Her gaze catches mine, and I’m momentarily swept away in the depths of her beautiful eyes, glowing softly under the dim lights, as if they’re hiding secrets just waiting to be uncovered.

“You don’t have to lie, Y/N. I’ll walk you home myself,” I say, my voice dripping with sincerity I didn’t know I had. She looks down, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear, an unintentional cue for me to look away.

When she finally says she’s ready to leave, we exchange goodbyes, and she pauses at the door, rummaging through her bag. I can’t help but smile when she pulls out a pair of black Chucks. As she grips my arm to slide off her high heels, I catch a flicker of discomfort flash across her face.

“Are you okay?” I ask, concern bubbling up.

“Yeah, my feet are killing me,” she replies, a hint of laughter in her voice.

“I could go get my car.”

“Nonsense. It’s just ten minutes away,” she insists, slipping her shoes back on, and we begin our trek.

As we walk toward her building, she animatedly recounts stories about prospective students, her voice weaving a vibrant tapestry that pulls us closer together. It’s no wonder she’s so well-liked; anyone would be a fool not to adore her.

“Can you hold these?” she asks, passing me her heels as we reach her building. A twinge of envy strikes me at the sight of those dainty straps that had just hugged her ankles.

She digs through her purse, clearly on a mission.

“Shit…” Frustration laces her voice. “Shit, shit, shit, shit!”

“What’s wrong?”

“I don’t have my keys… I must have left them inside, in my other bag.”

“Oh…” I glance at the time. It’s past two in the morning.

Should I offer her a place to stay? That’s what any decent person would do, right? But what if… what if I couldn’t keep my hands to myself?

“I’m so stupid!” she exclaims, smacking her forehead with the heel of her hand.

“Hey, relax… um… I have a bed. I mean, a couch.”

She looks up at me, skepticism dancing across her features.

“Really, it’s no problem.” I shrug, trying to keep my tone casual, as if it’s just a simple offer rather than an opportunity for something more.

Her expression remains doubtful.

“That’s what graduate student mentors are for, right?”

A small grin appears on her lips, and I can’t help but smile back. If all else fails, maybe I could find a way to make her smile like that—nothing would make me happier.

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah… it’s not like it’d be awkward or anything,” I tease, and her laughter lifts the tension in the air.

It takes us about twenty minutes to reach my apartment. Y/N talks a mile a minute, and I barely manage to squeeze a word in, but I don’t mind; her voice wraps around me like a warm blanket on a chilly night.

As we climb the steps of my building, I notice her wince again, gripping the railing for support.

“Y/N, are you okay?” Worry creeps in; she looks genuinely pained.

She takes a deep breath, forcing a smile that doesn’t quite reach her eyes. “I’m fine.”

“Y/N, please, just tell me what’s wrong.” I reach for her hand, desperate to ease whatever discomfort she’s feeling.

“Can we just go inside?” She clutches my hand tighter. “I’ll tell you, I promise.”

I help her inside and guide her to the couch. She collapses onto it with a shaky breath, extending her legs and rubbing her thighs—a gesture that sends a pang of concern through me.

“It’s not a big deal,” she begins, trying to sound lighthearted. “Sometimes I get pain in my legs from an old injury.”

“Oh… can I get you something for it?”

“Just water is fine.” She digs through her bag and pulls out a bottle of ibuprofen, shaking it at me with a smile.

As I rush to the kitchen, unease coils in my stomach. She had been walking the whole time, and I hadn’t even noticed she was in pain. I pour two glasses of water, my hands trembling slightly as I hand one to her and settle down beside her.

“You should’ve told me you were hurting, Y/N. I would have gotten the car.”

“I’m all right.” She gives me a soft smile, glancing around my sparsely decorated apartment. “Your place is nice.”

Nice? It’s barren—like a forgotten room in an old house where laughter used to echo. I turn the glass of water in my hands, my mind racing. “Y/N, can I ask you something?”

She meets my gaze as I take a sip. “If you’re wondering if I’m a virgin, the answer is no.”

I choke on the water, caught off guard by her sudden candor. “Jesus Christ, woman, how drunk are you?”

“I’m not drunk at all. I’m just messing with you. What were you going to ask?”

I look at her, heat rising in my cheeks as the tension coils between us. “I was just curious about how you got injured,” I admit, my thoughts drifting to the whirlwind of emotions churning inside me.

“Oh, well… My mom and I were in a car accident. I broke my hip and both my legs.” She says it so casually, as if she’s recounting a minor scrape.

“What?”

“Yeah… it was okay, though. After rehab, I was as good as new!” She beams, her enthusiasm a stark contrast to the weight of her words.

“How long was rehab?”

“Long enough.”

I remember something she mentioned earlier. “Long enough to make you miss a year in school?”

She responds with a grin and a nonchalant shrug. “Shit, Y/N. That sucks. I’m really sorry.”

“It’s all right. I’m actually glad it happened.” Her gaze drifts down to her legs, fingers tracing an invisible path over her thighs. “It brought my parents back together, just as they were meant to be.”

Her eyes return to mine, and the intensity of her words fills the air. “My parents got divorced when I was little, and my mom and I moved to Florida. But after the accident, my dad came to help, and they just… clicked, I guess. They’ve been together ever since.” She smiles proudly, and I sit there, stunned.

A strand of hair falls across her face, and I can’t resist the urge to tuck it behind her ear—an excuse to bridge the distance between us. With every detail she shares, I feel myself drawn closer, tangled in her life, as if I’m getting lost in her depths.

“Okay…” I set my glass down on the coffee table, the clink echoing like a heartbeat in the stillness. “I think you deserve the bed. I’ll take the couch.”

“Why?”

“Because I just made you walk—”

“It’s not your fault. I locked myself out.”

“Y/N, please…”

“Okay, okay… don’t get all grumpy on me.” She stands, and I hover over her, uncertain how to help, torn between the urge to support her and the instinct to maintain some distance.

“Hey, stop it.” She steadies herself with a hand on my arm. “I’m fine. I shouldn’t have said anything.”

I lead her to my bedroom, showing her where the bathroom is. I offer her some of my clothes to change into, but she declines, insisting it wouldn’t be the first time she slept in jeans.

She sits on the bed, and just as I’m about to leave, she calls out, “Yoongi?”

I turn, and she gestures for me to sit beside her, lying back on the comforter, vulnerability etched into her features.

I swallow hard as I lower myself next to her, the proximity amplifying the tension crackling in the air.

“I’m glad you don’t hate me anymore.”

I stare awkwardly at her, afraid to move and wake her up. Leaning back against the headboard, I let the silence linger, my mind racing with all the things I want to say. I want to know her—really know her—not just as the emotionally unavailable guy I’ve been until now.

Hoseok was right—I've got it bad for Y/N Y/L/N.

I think I preferred it when Y/N was just a blurry thought in my mind, hidden behind a blindfold I’d created to shield my heart. Back then, I didn’t have to wrestle with the urge to kiss her or feel the tempting softness of her hair against my fingers. But now, the blindfold has slipped away, and so has my common sense. Here I am, a hopeless observer, lurking in the shadows as she sleeps, feeling like a total creep.

Her face is peaceful, like a canvas painted with serenity, only occasionally disturbed by the flutter of her lashes. Her lips form a perfect little "o," and the way her bangs fall delicately over her forehead sends my heart racing. I long to reach out, to push them aside, to bury my hands in her hair like I did before. Slowly, I lift my hand, inching it closer to her face, drawn to her like a moth to a flame.

“Jack!” Y/N suddenly cries out, her voice slicing through the silence like glass. My heart jumps. “There’s a boat, Jack!” The frown that creases her brow twists her serene expression into something frantic, as if she’s caught in a storm of dreams.

What is happening? Is she having a nightmare? Who’s Jack?

Just as quickly, her face smooths over again, tranquility restored as if the storm has passed, leaving only a gentle breeze behind.

Isn’t it just my luck? Y/N talks in her sleep, and apparently, she’s got a soft spot for someone named Jack—maybe a sailor too.

I could rent a boat. We could go sailing if she wanted. Maybe I could learn to sail. If Jack can do it, how hard could it be? Does she even like sailing? I’ll ask her tomorrow.

What am I even thinking? No, I’m not going to ask her tomorrow, because we aren’t going sailing. She can go with Jack for all I care.

I groan, burying my face in my hands, frustration and disbelief washing over me. I’ve seriously lost it. This is ridiculous.

“Fucking Jess ate my Chobani again,” Y/N mutters, jolting me from my thoughts. Jess? Who the hell is that? And what even is a Chobani?

I should go. I shouldn’t be here, lurking in the shadows, eavesdropping on this craziness.

“Jonah Rodgers thinks I’m sexy…”

For the love of God! Is she trying to drive me mad?

Jonah Rodgers? The name sounds familiar. Do I know him? Is he that jerk who used to stalk her?

The stalker. Damn it. If I were still T.A.-ing, I’d fail him for disrespecting Y/N in this way.

I can’t take this anymore. If she mentions another guy, I swear I’m going to lose it. I sit at the edge of the bed, ready to leave, but before I can move, Y/N speaks again.

“Does Yoongi think I’m sexy?”

I do, I do, I do…

“Hmm… my Grumpy.”

Her soft moan sends a jolt of electricity coursing through me, and I’m utterly unprepared—shredded, breathless, completely undone.

Does she mean me? She called me Grumpy once, right? Said I was the only Grumpy she knew. Am I her Grumpy?

Shit, shit, shit!

I slump back against the headboard, the realization both thrilling and terrifying.

Is Y/N dreaming about me? Is it wrong that this feels so right? That my heart is swelling with excitement at the thought of being part of her dreams?

I turn to look at her again. She’s frowning now, exaggerated and cute, her lips pouting in a way that tugs at my heart.

“Do not touch my samples, Becca!” Her voice is low and raspy. “Don’t be so happy, Becca!” And then she smiles, as if a hidden joke just crossed her mind. “Run, Becca! Run!”

Oh, she’s definitely dreaming about me, just not in the way I had hoped.

She’s making fun of me—in her dreams.

Wonderful.

I groan, letting my head thud back against the headboard, staring up at the ceiling as disappointment settles over me like a heavy shroud. I shouldn’t be wishing for Y/N to dream about me; it would only complicate things. We can’t be together; this will never work.

In a year, I’ll graduate, and then it’ll be New York City, and Estelle all over again. Estelle and I had been together for four years when we graduated from Cornell. She wanted me to get a “real” job, to move with her to New York. She wanted me to abandon the chance for grad school at UW, to work at one of the top cancer research centers in the country. She made me choose, and I chose research.

And you know what? I have no regrets. Even though she didn’t know everything about my parents, she knew it mattered to me—she shouldn’t have made me choose. So when she said, “If you leave, we’re done,” I left. I figured I was better off alone, or as she put it, “end up alone and rot in lab hell.” It didn’t seem like such a sacrifice then—my relationship with Estelle was mediocre at best.

So, I dove headfirst into grad school and landed in one of the best labs in the program. I didn’t let any woman get in my way. I was focused, determined—until I woke up four years later, an angry, bitter shell of a man, nursing my bruised pride.

What a wake-up call that was! Suddenly, I started noticing everything��the things I fought so hard to ignore. I had worn blinders for so long, and I missed so much.

Honestly, I never expected to feel so unfulfilled.

Isn’t this what I wanted when I chose to leave Estelle? What am I missing? Why am I not enjoying my work anymore?

I glance at Y/N again. Her expression is peaceful once more, an angelic mask that makes me ache with longing. I can see myself falling for her easily—if I’m lucky, she might fall for me too. But then what?

Then I’ll have to choose: my work, my life, what I owe to my parents, over her. She’ll make me choose, and I’ll choose science—cancer research—and it will shatter us both. This time, it would be the greatest sacrifice I’d ever have to make. And honestly, I’m not even sure I’d be strong enough to make that decision. If Y/N were to love me back, how could I hurt her like that?

I sigh, dragging a hand down my face, the weight of my thoughts pressing heavily on my chest.

Y/N is smiling now, giggling softly, her laughter a haunting melody in the quiet room. How someone can giggle in her sleep is beyond me. After a while, she calms, her breathing slowing even more. With a sigh, I close my eyes and wait, holding my breath for what she might say next.

I wake with a start, my neck and back screaming in protest from the unforgiving embrace of the headboard. I must’ve slept in the same awkward position all night, unmoving. Stretching my arms, I blink against the morning light, squinting at my watch. Seven o’clock. The realization hits me like a punch to the gut—Y/N is gone.

Rubbing my sore neck, I drag myself out of bed and around the apartment, searching for any sign of her. Her bag and heels are missing. An uneasy feeling churns in my stomach as I plod back to the bed, my mind racing with questions about where she could have gone so early. That’s when I notice the slip of paper on the nightstand.

Morning, Grumpy! I had to leave to get my keys from the landlord. Thanks for letting me crash last night. Sorry for your sore neck. Y/N. :)

I face-plant onto the bed with a groan, trying to drown out the hollow emptiness she left behind. Her scent lingers on the pillows, sweet and intoxicating, wrapping around me like a vise. I inhale deeply, the fragrance filling my lungs, but instead of comfort, it brings a gnawing ache. Grumpy... I’m her Grumpy. The thought claws at me, relentless and unyielding.

Monday drags in like a slow, inevitable doom. I sit silently in the lunchroom with Hoseok, who prattles on about the success of the recruitment party. His voice is background noise, barely penetrating my thoughts. Thankfully, he hasn’t asked about Y/N yet.

“So, is Yoonji coming this weekend?” he asks, mid-chew of his sandwich.

“Yes. Friday,” I mutter, my mind elsewhere.

“Awesome! Oh man…” He swallows, excitement clear in his voice. “I can’t wait for next week! Spring Break: no undergrads, the gyms and bars all to ourselves!”

“Is it Spring Break next week?” My voice cracks, surprise jolting me back to reality. I had completely forgotten.

“Yeah!”

Great. My stomach twists with dread. Is Y/N leaving for Spring Break? She probably is, isn’t she? The uneasy feeling intensifies, so I shove a forkful of macaroni into my mouth, trying to silence it.

“What’s up your ass?” Hoseok asks suddenly, narrowing his eyes at me.

I shake my head, dismissing him

. “Nothing.”

“Nothing? Seriously?” His disbelief is palpable. “You look like you just downed a bottle of aspirin. Come on, tell me what’s wrong.”

His eyes are kind, but they only intensify the frustration bubbling beneath the surface.

I stare down at my plate, willing the irritation to simmer down. He’s my best friend—he deserves to know. But how can I explain this mess? The whirlwind of emotions swirling inside me?

“Y/N…” I finally murmur, the name tasting foreign on my tongue.

“Y/N? The girl you were with at the party? What about her?”

“Uh…she crashed here last night. She left this morning to get her keys from the landlord.” I avoid his gaze, my cheeks warming at the admission.

“Dude, that’s awesome!” he grins, elbowing me lightly. “So, you guys are getting serious?”

I scoff, shaking my head. “I don’t know about that.”

Hoseok’s smile falters. “What do you mean? You like her, right?”

“Of course I do!” The admission bursts out before I can stop myself, surprising both of us. I take a deep breath, trying to calm the tide of emotions swelling within me. “But it can’t go anywhere. She’s leaving, Hoseok. She’s probably going to some fancy college or… some fancy job.”

“So? You guys can make it work! Do you want to make it work?”

“I don’t know! I don’t want to hurt her. I can’t…” I trail off, frustration bubbling back to the surface. “I can’t let myself get caught up in this. I’ve worked too hard for my future to throw it all away for her.”

“Wait, what? Throw it all away? You really think you can’t have both? That you can’t just have fun while also focusing on your studies?”

I’m silent, my insides twisting again, a potent mix of anger and sadness at the thought of losing Y/N. “It’s not that simple,” I finally reply.

“Why not? You just told me she crashed here last night! You can’t pretend this doesn’t matter! You can’t keep running from it forever, Yoongi!” His voice rises, frustration spilling over.

“Why are you getting so worked up over this?” I snap, staring at him with incredulity.

“Because I’m sick of seeing you sulk, man!” His hands fly up in exasperation. “You can’t keep pretending like this doesn’t matter! Just tell her how you feel, for fuck’s sake!”

I shake my head, the weight of his words crashing down around me, the walls closing in. I feel suffocated, cornered. “What if she’s not interested? What if I scare her away?”

“Then at least you’ll know! At least you’ll have closure, and you can move on!”

His voice rings in my ears, echoing through the tangled web of my thoughts. I look down, realizing he’s right.

I take a deep breath, steadiness creeping back in. “You’re right.” I want to scream. “You’re so right.” But the truth sits heavy on my chest.

But what if I’m not strong enough to risk everything again? What if I lose her before I ever get to really have her?

When I get back to the lab, my phone beeps with a new email.

From: Y/N Y/L/N, ynyln(at)u(.)washington(.)edu Sent: Monday, March 21, 2024, 1:18 PM To: Yoongi Min, ygmin(at)u(.)washington(.)edu

Hey Yoongi,

Is it okay if I miss lab on Tuesday and Wednesday? I have midterms this week before Spring Break, but I promise I’ll make up for the lost time afterward.

Y/N

She’s leaving.

The thought crashes over me like a tidal wave, pulling me under, swirling with anxiety and dread. She won’t even be here this week. The uncertainty gnaws at my insides, promising nothing but torture ahead.

From: Yoongi Min, ygmin(at)u(.)washington(.)edu Sent: Monday, March 21, 2024, 1:20 PM To: Y/N Y/L/N, ynyln(at)u(.)washington(.)edu

Fine.

Yoongi Min PhD Candidate Kim Lab Fred Hutchinson Cancer Research Center 1100 Fairview Avenue North Seattle, WA 98109-1024

It’s official: I fucking hate Spring Break.

As soon as I get home, desperation drives me to call Yoonji. I tell myself it’s to find out when Y/N will be back, but really, I need to spill everything—the kiss, the night Y/N slept in my bed, the haunting thought of her heading to Cabo for Spring Break.

“Yoongi, I just don’t understand,” Yoonji says, her voice cutting through the fog in my mind. I’m sprawled on the couch, head tilted back, an arm draped over my eyes like a shield against reality.

“To be honest, I think what you’re doing is stupid,” she continues, her frustration palpable. “You’re miserable. I can feel it. Why won’t you give yourself a chance to—”

“To what, Yoonji? You remember what happened with Estelle.”

“Please, Estelle was an unsupportive bitch.”

“I don’t even know Y/N that well!” I blurt out, my voice sharper than I intended. The fear of history repeating itself looms over me like a dark cloud.

“Y/N won’t make you choose, Yoongi.”

“You don’t know that.”

“You said she’s incredibly determined, that she loves research even more than you used to. That doesn’t sound like someone who would oppose you continuing on this path.”

“I don’t know, Yoonji.” I sigh, running my hands over my face, feeling the weight of her words settle heavily on my shoulders.

“Give yourself the opportunity to get to know her. Don’t deny yourself the chance to be with her just because you’re afraid to feel something.”

“I’m not afraid of feeling anything,” I snap, though the truth is, I’m drowning in emotions already. “But I’ll be done with the program in a year.”

“So what? A lot can happen in a year. You know that better than anyone.”

I groan, conceding. She’s right. She’s always right.

“You’re hurting. You care about her, Yoongi. Why do you have to be so blind?” Yoonji’s frustration seeps through the phone, and I can almost picture her pacing, running a hand through her hair.

“What do you suggest I do? Ask her out?” I retort, the idea weighing heavily on my mind. “She’s my undergrad! I don’t even know if she’s interested in me.”

“Didn’t you say she kissed you back?”

“Yes. But she also said she didn’t want to jeopardize her experience in the lab.”

“That means she’s smart. You shouldn’t let your feelings affect your work, especially if she’s under you. But that doesn’t mean you can’t have a relationship outside of lab.”

The thought of being with Y/N outside those sterile walls sends my heart racing. I lean back against the couch, releasing a shaky breath I didn’t know I was holding.

“Have you talked about it again? Have you told her how you feel?” Yoonji presses, her voice softening.

“No. I decided to pretend it never happened.”

“Geez, Yoongi. For such a smart guy, you can be so dense.” Her exasperated sigh echoes in my ears, and I remain silent, letting her words sink in. “You need to talk to her, tell her what’s going on. See what she wants. Tell her what you want.”

Staring at the ceiling, I weigh the possibility of confessing my feelings to Y/N. The prospect terrifies me, yet the urge to be honest gnaws at my insides.

“Yoongi, do you know what you want?” she asks gently.

“Yes. I want to go to sleep.”

Her frustrated sigh tells me she senses I’m closing off again.

“Do you want to be with her?” she probes softly.

“I’ve never wanted anyone more.”

The truth spills out, raw and unfiltered. Her squeal of excitement on the other end makes me rub my hands on my thighs, trying to contain my nerves.

“Then do yourself a favor and talk to her. I’d bet good money she’s already crazy about you.” Her enthusiasm is contagious, and I find myself considering it more seriously.

We end the call, but sleep eludes me. Images of Y/N in a bikini invade my mind, and there’s no chance of me sleeping tonight.

When I step back into the lab on Thursday after lunch, I’m completely unprepared for the sight of Y/N. She’s there, smiling, and it catches me off guard, my heart racing like it’s just run a marathon. I thought she’d be gone by now, off to live her Spring Break fantasies. My mind has been a battlefield all week, flooded with images of her carefree adventures. Googling “Spring Break activities” had been a catastrophic mistake.

She’s not in her usual lab coat today; instead, she’s wearing a fitted sweater that hugs her figure just right, the V-neck revealing a tantalizing hint of her collarbones. The dark fabric contrasts beautifully with her pale skin, and my imagination betrays me, picturing that skin in a bikini. All I can see is red.

Thankfully, Jimin is nowhere in sight.

“I thought you had better things to do this week,” I say, my voice sharper than I intended as I walk past her, heading toward my desk.

“What do you mean?” Her smile vanishes, replaced by confusion.

“I didn’t know you were coming today. I don’t have time for this.” I wave my hand dismissively, trying to suppress the storm brewing inside me.

“For what? I—I don’t understand.”

These lies spill from my mouth uncontrollably. “Honestly, Y/N, sometimes I think you’re just here for the credits. This isn’t how science works. You need to be consistent.” My voice rises, and I see her flinch.

“Why are you yelling at me? Is this because I missed two days? I’m sorry, Yoongi. I had to study. I promise I’ll make up for it.”

I rub my forehead, frustration clawing at my insides. I know this isn’t her fault, but the anger bubbles over. “Have fun on Spring Break,” I grit out as I storm past her, my heart pounding in my chest.

“Yoongi?” she calls after me, but I keep walking, desperate for fresh air. The cool spring breeze feels like a lifeline, and I gulp it in, trying to calm the chaos inside me. I can’t keep doing this. This is madness.

I don’t get far before I hear Y/N’s voice again, breathless and firm. “Yoongi, what’s the matter with you?” I hadn’t realized she’d followed me. I turn around, and there she is—confused, hurt, and heartbreakingly beautiful.

There’s no point in pretending anymore. I can’t keep up the facade. “I don’t think you really want to know, Y/N.” I run a hand down my face, trying to keep my composure.

She crosses her arms, waiting, an expectant look in her eyes.

“I fucking hate Spring Break, okay? I hate the thought of you parading around with some frat losers, being young, drunk, and reckless. I hate it. I hate all of it.”

Her expression shifts from confusion to understanding, and she relaxes, placing her hands on her hips. A corner of her mouth quirks up. “What are you talking about?”

Is she seriously smirking?

“I’m talking about you going to Cabo San Lucas for Spring Break.”

“Who said I was going to Cabo?” Now she’s fully smiling.

“I don’t know, I just assumed… aren’t you all?” I mumble, embarrassed.

“You have some serious misconceptions about undergrads, Yoongi. We’re not all the same. And that’s not me at all.”

“So you’re not going away for Spring Break?” I ask, still staring at my feet, not wanting to look her in the eye.

“No, I’m not. I was actually looking forward to spending more time in the lab, making up for this week.”

Relief floods through me, but it’s tangled with a crushing sense of shame. “You’re not going away? You’re staying here?” My voice is barely a whisper.

“Yes. That’s what I said.”

I stagger back, feeling like an idiot. I can’t believe I snapped at her like that. As my anger fades, embarrassment rushes in, making my knees feel weak. I might seriously pass out.

“Yoongi? Are you all right?”

I let out a humorless laugh. No, I’m not all right. This is too much.

She steps closer, and I know I won’t be able to resist kissing her if she comes any nearer. I lift my hand in warning and take another step back.

“Yoongi?” Ignoring my gesture, she moves closer and stands right in front of me.

I close my eyes, the truth spilling out uncontrollably. “All I could think about was some punk with his shirt off, a baseball cap on backward, shoving beer down your throat... and it made me want to murder someone.” My hand clutches my chest, heart racing.

She giggles—at my agony? My eyes snap open, and her smile fades under my intense stare. “These past few days have been torture,” I continue. “I can’t get you out of my mind. All I can think about is you—your lips on mine, your legs around my waist. You drive me insane, Y/N. I can’t think straight.”

Y/N’s eyes shine with emotion, and she closes the distance between us, resting her head against my chest. My hand instinctively finds its way to the back of her head, fingers tangling in her hair. She pulls away slightly, and I lift her chin with two fingers, forcing her to meet my gaze. Her eyes glisten, her bottom lip caught between her teeth, cheeks flushed a delicate pink.

When our lips touch, the electric current between us is undeniable. I close my eyes, exhaling through my nose, and cup her face, my thumb brushing her ear, fingers caressing her neck. Y/N grips my shirt, pulling herself closer. When my tongue slips into her mouth, a moan escapes me at the sweetness of her taste.

I can’t stay away from her anymore. I’m not strong enough.

Y/N wraps a hand around my neck, pulling me even closer. My hand travels down her back, wrapping tightly around her waist. I know she can feel my arousal pressing against her, but I don’t care. When she whimpers against my mouth, I know she feels the same.

Is it possible she’s been yearning for this as much as I have?

Tell her what you want, Min.

“Y/N, wait.” I gently push her back, keeping one hand on her face. She stumbles slightly, holding onto my arm, looking dazed. “I don’t want this to be another kiss you regret. I don’t want you to be swept away by the moment. I want… I want more.”

She gapes at me, panting.

“I’m sorry I’m being so blunt, but I can’t hide this anymore.” I drop my hands to my sides and step back.

“What are you trying to say, Yoongi?” Her confusion is evident.

“What I’m trying to say is that I want to see you tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow? I-I think I can come in the afternoon between classes.”

“Jesus Christ, Y/N! Would you listen to me? I don’t need you to come to the lab. I want to see you outside of the lab.”

I pinch my nose, trying to calm down, afraid my intensity will scare her away.

“Oh…”

“My cousin is coming to visit. We’re all going out for drinks. Do you want to come with me?”

She looks at me, and then she nods. “Okay.”

Okay… she said yes. Oh my god, she said yes.

I take a deep breath. “I’m sorry I snapped at you like that.”

“I know,” she replies, giving me a small grin that weakens my knees. My hand reaches for her face again, addicted to the softness of her skin as I brush her hair behind her ear and stroke her cheek. She stares into my eyes, cheeks burning, and I’m debating whether to kiss her again when I see Jin’s car pull into the parking lot, and I drop my hand immediately.

Shit…

Y/N glances back and sees Jin getting out of his car.

“I should go study, then…” She looks back at me, and I nod, feeling a mix of regret and anticipation. “I’ll catch you later. Call me about tomorrow.” She brushes a timid finger down my arm before turning to leave.

I stay outside for a few more minutes, gathering my thoughts and waiting for my heart to calm down.

I did it. I asked Y/N out... sort of.

Now what?

Yoonji had turned into a shadow in my apartment, trailing me as I prepared for what felt like the most important night of my life. “Have you been using that stubble trimmer I got you?” she asked, her fingers grazing my jaw as if she were assessing a work of art.

I nodded, feeling uneasy under her watchful gaze. Deep down, I was already regretting the group date we had planned. The thought of going out with Y/N sent my heart racing; adding my cousin and a few friends into the mix felt like a cosmic joke, and I was definitely the punchline.

As I rifled through my chaotic closet, I tried to tune her out, running my fingers through my damp hair in a futile attempt to calm my nerves.

“I think I’ve died and gone to heaven.” Leave it to Yoonji to treat every moment like a Broadway performance. I shot her a glare, barely suppressing my frustration as I swept past her in search of my jacket.

“You’re wearing a polo shirt?” she challenged, disbelief lacing her tone.

“What’s wrong with a polo shirt?” I snapped, slapping my hands against my thighs in exasperation. The anxiety gnawed at me, and her judgment only fueled the fire.

Yoonji stepped closer, her expression softening. “Yoongi, my oblivious cousin, there’s absolutely nothing wrong with that polo shirt. As long as it doesn’t have holes in it.”

Relief washed over me like a tide, momentarily pushing my worries aside. I had never cared much for her opinion on my wardrobe; that had never mattered before. But tonight? It wasn’t Yoonji’s approval I craved—it was Y/N’s. I wanted to be more than the cynical grad student she saw in class.

“You look great,” Yoonji said, her smile coaxing a small, reluctant grin from me in return. “If just thinking about her has you acting like this nervous mess, I already know I’m going to love her.”

Yoonji had made it clear she’d ride with Hoseok and Serena so I could pick up Y/N alone. Now, I found myself parked outside her building, panic clawing at my insides. My palms felt clammy as I smoothed them over my thighs, my heart thumping violently against my ribs, and my mouth was desert-dry. It had been ages since I’d done anything like this. Estelle and I had never ventured out much together; I had buried myself in my studies while she lived her own life, leaving me utterly out of practice.

Despite the storm of anxiety raging within me, excitement bubbled up as I thought of Yoonji, Hoseok, and even Serena meeting Y/N. They needed to see how extraordinary she was—smart, caring, and hilariously funny. What thrilled me most was the prospect of spending time with Y/N outside the sterile confines of our lab, engaging with her as something more than just colleagues.

I banged my head against the steering wheel a few times, trying to settle my frayed nerves. My heart leaped when a knock on the window broke through my spiraling thoughts. There she was—Y/N, standing outside with that bright smile and a wave. I quickly unlocked the door, feeling like an utter fool.

“Hey…” she said as she slid into the car.

“I’m sorry. I was going to get you. Just… got distracted,” I admitted, feeling like an idiot for letting her down.

“It’s okay.” She shrugged. “Better this way anyway. I didn’t want Jess to see us.”

“Jess?” The name floated through my mind, familiar yet vague—wasn’t she the one from Y/N’s sleep ramblings? The one with the boat?

“Jessica, my roommate,” she explained. “She was in your class last year, and she knows I’m working in your lab… so I don’t want any rumors spreading, you know?”

“My class?” I felt disbelief surge within me. How could this be?

“Intro to Micro. Last Fall. You were our T.A.,” she said matter-of-factly.

“What?”

“We were both in your class,” she added, unfazed by my shock.

“I was your T.A. last year?”

“Yes.”

“Are you sure it was me?” I grasped at straws. How could I have overlooked her?

She turned toward me, eyebrow raised in that cute way she had. “Oh, I’m sure.”

“I’m so sorry,” I blurted out. How could I have forgotten her?

“It’s okay. You keep to yourself. I get it.”

“Do we know each other from anywhere else?” My worry twisted into a knot. Had I brushed past her countless times, completely blind to her presence?

So much time wasted. How incredibly foolish of me.

“Just that class in the fall. Unless you count all the times I waved at you at the gym or smiled at you every Saturday as you passed by my table at the library after getting your coffee.”

She had been right there all along, and I had missed her completely.

“Shit, Y/N. I’m so sorry. I’ve been such an idiot!” I pounded the heel of my hand against my forehead a few times, embarrassment crashing over me.

“Hey, it’s okay.” Y/N reached for my hand, gently pulling it away from my face.

“No, it’s not. I was completely blind… and I feel like I’ve wasted so much time.”

“Well, I’m here now…” She smiled, releasing my hand.

“You are.”

“And you can see me now, right?”

“You’re all I see now…” The truth swelled in my chest, echoing through me. Y/N was all that mattered, the only one who could unravel this tangled mess of a heart I had.

“You see?” she said, clasping her hands over her lap. “When you say stuff like that, it makes it really hard to believe you can be such a grump.” She smiled, a shy yet bold thing, and my instinct was to lean in and kiss her, but I tamped down my urge for the sake of the group date.

“Well, no need to worry. I’m still very much a grump.” I offered a wry smile, taking a deep breath. “Shall we do this?”

Y/N nodded, and I started the car.

I didn’t mind being a grump, as long as I could be her grump.

When we pulled up to the bar, I rushed to open Y/N's door, but of course, she was already climbing out by the time I reached her side. My gaze landed on the exposed skin of her collarbones, the freckles scattered across her chest—how had I missed them in the car?

Her white top hung loosely on her frame, the neckline dipping low enough to reveal just a hint too much. Luckily, she wore something underneath, but the sheer fabric let me catch glimpses of her silhouette. Apparently, I wasn’t the only one who noticed—some guy outside was staring at her like she was the last meal on earth. My hand found her lower back as I guided her inside, urgency propelling me forward.

Hoseok, Yoonji, and Serena were already at a table, and when Yoonji spotted us, her face lit up like it was Christmas morning. I half-expected her to pull out a camera.

“Y/N, this is my cousin, Yoonji. Yoonji, this is Y/N.” Before I could finish my introduction, Yoonji sprang to her feet.

“Y/N!” she exclaimed, pulling Y/N into an enthusiastic embrace. Her eyes sparkled with joy as she cast me a cheeky grin. “It’s so nice to finally meet you!”

“Yoonji, calm down,” I thought, but I couldn’t help but feel a flutter of excitement.

“Nice to meet you too, Yoonji,” Y/N replied, her sweetness radiating like a warm glow.

“And you’ve already met Hoseok and Serena.” I gestured to the other two goofballs, who were now staring at Y/N like she was some kind of celestial being.

“Hi, Y/N! How’s life in the undergraduate world?” Hoseok teased as I pulled out a chair for her.

“Lotta drinking, lotta partying… you know, same old, same old.” Y/N shrugged, grinning, and I could see she had already charmed Hoseok.

“So… let’s get to the important stuff.” Hoseok waved a hand at me, a smirk growing on his face. I knew it wouldn’t take long for the teasing to kick in. I rolled my eyes.

“Oh! I know! Yoongi is wearing a polo shirt,” Serena piped up.

“I guess hell froze over, baby,” Hoseok snorted.

“I completely approve, by the way,” Yoonji chimed in, not even bothering to glance my way.

Here we go. I was about to shoot them all a glare when Y/N’s gentle touch on my thigh sent my heart soaring. My eyes darted to hers—she wore a smile that made everything else fade away.

“The cologne… maybe a tad too much?” I heard Serena say.

“Hey, I suggested that!” Yoonji shot back.

The banter continued, but I was lost in Y/N’s gaze, enchanted by the way her eyes sparkled when she smiled at me. The world around us dimmed; it was just her fingers entwined with mine, brushing softly against my palm, the gentle caress of her thumb sending shivers down my spine.

A moment too soon, Y/N turned to address the others. “Why do you guys talk about him like he’s not in the room?” Her words hung in the air, stunning everyone into silence.

I couldn’t believe it. In less than an hour, she had managed to charm my friends while cutting straight to the heart of the matter.

“Well, you’re with him now,” Yoonji finally said, a sly smile creeping across her face. “It’s our job to protect you.”

I would have preferred they protect me from their embarrassing stories, but Y/N seemed to revel in it.

“Protect me from what?” she asked, laughter bubbling in her voice.

“His awful sense of humor,” Serena said, her eyes dancing with mischief.

“Okay, I’m warning you,” I said, grinning back. “You may want to turn around and leave right now.”

Y/N giggled, clearly enjoying herself.

“Hey, if you leave me now, I’m going to assume you’re all crazy,” she said, her smile wide and infectious.

I couldn’t help but smile back, knowing this night was going to be unforgettable.

As night settled over us, the world transformed into a playground of laughter and playful banter, wrapped in a soft, velvety blanket. The drinks flowed like a tide, and my heart raced with the electric thrill of the evening. I watched Y/N mingle with my friends, and in that moment, something inside me sparked to life, hinting at possibilities I had yet to explore.

I leaned closer, our shoulders brushing, a daring move that sent butterflies fluttering in my stomach. “What are you doing to me?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.

“Just being me,” she replied, her tone light, but the glimmer in her eyes suggested deeper currents.

“Can I hold your hand?” The request slipped from my lips, fragile as a moth's wing.

Surprise flickered across her face as she weighed my words. “Yes.”

The moment our fingers intertwined, warmth rushed through me, narrowing my focus to the electric connection between us. In the distance, Hoseok's teasing banter continued, and Yoonji was lost in conversation with Serena, but they faded into the background. All that mattered was Y/N and the magnetic pull that bound us together.

Yoonji’s voice broke through my reverie. "I'm staying with Em and Serena tonight," she whispered in my ear.

“Yoonji, you don’t need to—”

“Nonsense!” she insisted, her grin stretching wide. “I love her,” she mouthed as she walked away, and I couldn’t help but smile, glancing down at Y/N.

“Oh, you’re not coming with us?” Y/N asked, her curiosity piqued.

“Nope! I need to help Serena pick an outfit for tomorrow. It was really nice to meet you, Y/N. I hope to see you soon!” Yoonji hugged her again, whispering something I couldn’t catch.

Before long, Y/N and I were walking toward my car. I opened the door for her, and she smiled as she slid in. As I drove to her apartment, she asked about Yoonji and our bond. I shared how I moved in with them when I was thirteen, how we’d become like siblings, grateful she didn’t pry into the reasons behind it. Tonight wasn’t the time for shadows of my past.

A comfortable silence fell between us, an unspoken acknowledgment of the fleeting moments we shared. Soon, we arrived in front of her building, and reality crashed in—I was running out of time.

“Can I be honest?” she asked, her voice breaking the silence like a warm breeze.

“Please… always.”

“I don’t want to go home just yet.” She looked at me through her lashes, and my heart raced, a wild beat echoing in my chest.

“Can I be honest too?” I asked, inching closer.

She nodded, biting her lip.

“I really want to kiss you right now.” I leaned in slightly.

Her breath hitched, and she let out a soft sigh. “Can I? Kiss you?” My voice was barely audible, filled with anticipation.

She nodded once, a small smile lighting up her face. I reached for her, brushing her hair back before gently cupping the nape of her neck and pulling her closer.

Our kiss started softly, exploring each other with tentative tenderness. But it quickly grew desperate, fueled by a hunger we could no longer deny. Her hand gripped my shirt, pulling me closer—just as eager. I let my hands roam, one resting on her thigh while the other tangled in her hair, my heart racing with every heartbeat.

“Y/N…” I breathed against her neck, fighting to maintain control. “You need to go inside now, or I don’t think I’ll be able to let you go.”

“Why don’t you come inside with me?” She pulled my face from her neck, her eyes shimmering with mischief and warmth. “Jessica should be gone by now. It’s Spring Break, remember? I might be the only undergrad left.”

The invitation hung in the air, electric and intoxicating. She wanted me to come home with her. Alone. My mind raced as I followed her into her cozy apartment, a space filled with personal touches and the inviting scent of vanilla.

“Welcome to Casa de Jess and Y/N!” she announced, her excitement infectious. “Do you want a tour, Mister?”

I grinned at her playful spirit. “If you’d be so kind, Madam.”

With exaggerated politeness, she led me through her apartment, showing off each room like a proud hostess. “And this is my bedroom.” When she opened the door, my breath caught. It looked like a whimsical explosion of color—pink and feathers everywhere, a bright pink comforter proclaiming “Little Princess” in white letters.

“Oh dear God…” I muttered, glancing around.

“What do you think?” she asked, a hint of seriousness in her tone.

I scratched my neck, searching for the right words. “Um… well… interesting choice of colors, Y/N.”

She burst into laughter, the sound bright and carefree, and I looked at her, puzzled.

“Oh my God! Your face! Priceless!” she exclaimed, doubling over in giggles. “This is Jessica's room!” She laughed so hard she had to lean against the doorframe for support.

“Oh thank God…” I exhaled in relief. “I don’t think I could sleep in here without having nightmares.” I leaned against the doorframe, smiling at the chaos.

But then, her expression shifted from playful to serious as she stepped closer. “Do you expect to be sleeping in my bed anytime soon, Mr. Min?”

“Shit… no… I’m sorry. That’s not what I meant.” I ran a hand through my hair, mortified.

“Hey…” She stepped between my legs, her hand resting on my chest. “I was joking.” She smiled up at me, and my heart raced. I wanted her, needed her, craved her.

I traced her lip with my thumb. “You know what’s the first thing I noticed about you, Y/N?” She shook her head, her gaze locked on mine. “Your smile… It’s beautiful.”

Her smile widened. “When you smile, you get all gummy and your face softens. Your teeth are small, too. It’s adorable.”

“Adorable? Here I am, telling you I love your smile, and you tell me mine is imperfect. I’m hurt,” I joked, placing a hand over my heart.

“It’s not imperfect. It’s crooked and mind-blowingly sexy.” She giggled, and I couldn’t help but snort.

“See? There it is.” She framed my face with her hands and pulled me into a kiss. Her lips were soft, and I tried to crouch down to level us, but it felt awkward. Instead, I lifted her by the waist, her legs wrapping around my hips. Y/N’s arms encircled my neck as she deepened the kiss. When her tongue slipped into my mouth, I moaned, pressing her against the doorframe where laughter had just echoed.

My breath came in desperate gasps as I pulled away, kissing along her neck, but the fire ignited within me burned too bright to resist. Her whimpers drove me wild, and there was only so much I could take.

“Next door to the left,” she whispered in my ear.

Holy shit…

I carried her to her bedroom, still wrapped around me. As soon as I opened the door, her scent enveloped me, divine and overwhelming. Trying to stay composed, I ended up slumping onto the bed with her. She squealed and giggled, pulling off my polo shirt. Her hand traced patterns on my chest, making me shudder.

Every cell in my body was on high alert, every touch amplified.

"Y/N…" I groaned when her fingers traced the button-fly of my jeans. "You make me feel like a fucking teenager."

She giggled as my lips found hers. Her hand slipped into my boxers, and when she grasped me, I groaned loudly into her lips. She stroked me tentatively, softly but firmly. After a few strokes, it was too much.

"Y/N, stop… please," I begged, panting into her neck. "I’m going to cum in your hand. I need to slow down."

"Sorry." She released me, sighing. "Too much… too soon?"

"Yes… No… I-I just need a minute." I pressed my forehead into her neck, trying to regain control.

"Okay," she whispered, her hand returning to my hair.

My hands found their way under her shirt, pulling it off. The sight of her, arms stretched above her head, devilish smile on her lips, took my breath away.

"Polkadots?" I teased as her hands flew to my neck, pulling me back into a kiss. Her kisses were eager, biting and pulling at my lip, straining my self-control.

I kissed her neck, my hand slipping under her back. "God, you are so beautiful…" I whispered, unclasping her bra.

Her bra off, I trailed kisses from her neck to her chest, my hands cupping her breasts. Y/N squirmed under me, her moans driving me crazy.

"Can I touch you now?" Her voice was raspy with desire.

"Not yet," I whispered, unbuttoning her jeans.

"Not fair…" she moaned as my fingers dipped into her panties.

My fingers found nothing but wetness, silkiness, and smoothness, a tantalizing blend that drove me wild with anticipation. My dick throbbed painfully as I ground against her leg, barely able to contain myself any longer.

“God, Y/N…” I murmured, my voice a strained whisper.

She whimpered beneath me, her body trembling as my fingers traced circles to pleasure her. I slipped one finger inside, then another, and her scream of my name filled the room, echoing in my ears like a symphony of ecstasy. The sheer joy of her response made me want to cry into her neck.

“Yoongi, please…” she panted, her hands pulling at my hair, desperate. “I want to touch you… please… I need to feel you.”

God…

In one swift move, I had Y/N completely naked beneath me, her chest heaving with gasps. I fumbled for the condom in my wallet, and in mere seconds, I was naked too, hovering over her. Wrapping her wrist in my hand, I guided her to touch me—every inch of me.

Her hand clasped around me, guiding me to her entrance, spreading her wetness. I kept one hand on her breast, the other gripping the blanket next to her face, my control slipping with every passing second. Our eyes locked, the intensity between us palpable.

“Yoongi, what are we doing?” Her hand still gripped me, her voice a mix of wonder and worry.

“God… I don’t know…” I panted, my forehead resting on her neck.

“Is this wrong?”

“Feels right to me.” I groaned into her shoulder as she increased the pressure with her hand.

“I mean… isn’t this against the rules?”

How could she be coherent right now? I was on the brink of losing it, and I wasn’t even inside her yet!

“I-I don’t know, Y/N… Honestly, the rules are very blurry right now.”

“I want you,” she whispered huskily into my ear.

“God, Y/N. I want you too… so fucking much.”

“Would we get in trouble for this?” Her voice held a clear note of worry.

I lifted my head to meet her gaze. “I don’t know… I don’t care… Do you?”

Please, please, please, don’t ask me to stop now. Please…

She shook her head, pulling my face closer to hers in a kiss, positioning herself for me to enter her.

Thank you, God.

Our eyes stayed locked as our bodies connected, the sensation of being surrounded by her utterly mind-blowing. I needed a moment to adjust, Y/N’s moans and the arch of her back driving me insane as I slowly reached the deepest part of her.

I pulled out as slowly as I could manage, then pushed back in. My eyes rolled back, hands gripping her hips, a moan escaping through my clenched jaw. Nothing in my life had ever compared to this, to being with her. No one came even close.

Our bodies moved in sync, and a new terror gripped me: the fear of not lasting long enough to satisfy her. I sought distractions in her breasts, her neck, her lips, but every part of her only turned me on more.

So, I distracted myself mentally, reciting the first thing that came to mind:

There’s antimony, arsenic, aluminum, selenium… And hydrogen and oxygen and nitrogen and rhenium... And nickel, neodymium, neptunium, germanium… And iron, americium, ruthenium, uranium…

The words spun through my mind, a desperate attempt to hold onto control, as I plunged deeper into the intoxicating feeling of her.

It's Tuesday morning, and the sun hasn't even thought about rising yet. The lab calls out to me with its endless list of tasks, each one promising that today won't be long enough to tackle them all. I feel exhausted, bone-deep weary from days that have been both draining and, honestly, the best of my life.

Y/N and I spent the weekend wrapped up in each other, mostly on her bed or the couch. It’s a novel experience for me—taking a break from work on a weekend—but I still managed to squeeze in some research: exploring every inch of Y/N’s body, learning her curves, her soft spots, and the way she sighs when she’s lost in the moment. I’m hopelessly addicted, and I doubt I’ll ever get enough.

In between those moments of passion, she opened up about her family, her childhood, and the accident that changed everything. I kept my past hidden, deflecting the conversation back to her with more questions. I learned that I influenced her decision to join Jin’s lab; she remembered me from my time as her oblivious T.A. I teased her about being a little stalker, but the truth is, I loved hearing her talk.

Y/N could chatter for hours, and more surprisingly, I found that I could listen willingly and happily. She’s an amazing cook, and with each passing day, she feels more and more like a miracle. I kept adding to my mental list of quirky Y/N facts: her underwear is never a solid color—always striped or patterned, like the bra with little pineapples. She re-watches movies until she knows the dialogue by heart. When she made me watch a film about the Titanic, I laughed when I thought it was a documentary. After that, I decided against any sailing plans.

But Monday brought a harsh return to reality. Seeing her in the lab, just out of reach, was torture—pun intended. She wanted to dive into her experiments, and since I skipped the lab all weekend, I had a mountain of work to tackle. We managed to keep things professional, but the tension in the air was thick. Monday nights were reserved for her family’s Skype calls, leaving me alone, tossing and turning in my bed, missing her like crazy.

As I trudged through the hallways, still groggy, I spotted Y/N sitting by the lab door. With her earphones in, she was bobbing her head, lost in her own world. The moment she saw me, she pulled them out, a broad smile lighting up her face.

I swear I’ll never tire of that smile…

“God, Y/N. What are you doing here so early?” I grumble, struggling to match her morning cheer.

“I couldn’t sleep! I’m dying to see if the experiment worked!” she exclaims, bouncing on her toes.

Of course…

“Mhm” I mumble, fumbling for the keys.

“It’s nerve-racking! A whole day of work, then waiting sixteen hours—sixteen hours!—to see the results?”

The key sticks in the lock, and I jiggle it impatiently.

“C’mon, c’mon…” she chants, practically bouncing.

“Y/N…” I groan, turning to her. “I haven’t had coffee yet. Would you calm down?”

Finally, the door clicks open, and she bolts inside, nearly tripping over me. She rushes straight to the incubator, while I drag myself to my desk, her excited chants of “YES! YES! YES!” echoing behind me.

I can’t help but snort. I guess her experiment worked.

She sets the petri dishes on the bench, and her squeal of delight fills the room. “They worked!” she cries, launching herself at me. I barely catch her as she wraps her legs around my waist.

How does she have this much energy? It’s not even eight yet!

“Jesus Christ, woman! What are you on this morning?”

Her arms encircle my neck, and she beams at me, making my own lips twitch upward.

“Hi, Grumpy.” She runs a hand through my hair.

“Hi…”

“Good morning.”

“Morning, Y/N.”

Her lips find mine, and I’m a goner. I moan into her mouth as she tugs at my hair, ready to take her right there on the bench, on the floor—anywhere. But we’re in the lab.

“Y/N…” I whisper, kissing her neck.

“Hmmm?”

“Someone might come in.” I nibble her earlobe, making her squirm.

“It’s early,” she whispers, her voice husky as she pulls at my hair.

God…

I set her down on the bench, clumsily knocking over some plates. “Shit... sorry.” I try to pick them up, but she’s pulling at my jeans, pressing herself against me, and I make a bigger mess.

“Did you touch my samples?” she asks, feigning anger, echoing my words from when I snapped at her earlier.

I smile, but the way she bites her lip and the hooded look in her eyes snaps my resolve. My lips crash into hers, and my hands slide under her shirt as I press her back onto the bench, scattering more plates.

Fuck, I’m going to ruin her experiment.

I lift her, her legs locking around my waist. I mean to move her to the unused bench behind me, but her grinding against me messes with my balance. I knock over a chair, slamming my back against the corner of the bench. Groaning in pain, I secure her in my arms.

“Are you okay?”

The pain clears my head. Reality rushes back, and I realize what we’re about to do—in the lab, on a Tuesday morning, when anyone could walk in.

Just then, I hear rattling keys from the hallway.

Fuck…

I set Y/N down, and she stumbles. I steady her, stepping back just as Jimin walks in.

Y/N smooths her shirt, picking up plates, her face a vivid crimson. I run a hand through my hair, rubbing my sore back with the other. The pain is nothing compared to the throbbing in my pants, but there’s no fixing that now.

Jimin looks at us, eyebrows raised, then heads to his desk. I let out a sigh, glancing at Y/N—she’s still picking up plates, cheeks burning.

Could we be any more obvious?

Y/N and I were deep in conversation about her results, our voices low enough that Jimin, across the lab, pretended not to be listening. Y/N’s work was nothing short of exceptional, and while pride swelled within me, I needed to keep it grounded in reality. Success like this was rare; she needed to understand its value, to cherish it, but also to brace for the inevitable setbacks.

“Are you familiar with Murphy’s Law?” I asked as she finished jotting down her notes.

“Of course,” she replied, turning to face me, her eyes sparkling. “Did you know his first name was Edward?”

“What? No.” Murphy, as far as I was concerned, was just Murphy.

“Yep. Edward Murphy,” she said, her face serious as she began tidying up her workspace.

“You’re kidding,” I said, moving closer, disbelief evident in my voice.

“Nope.”

“How do you know that?”

“I watch Jeopardy a lot.” A small, embarrassed smile tugged at her lips as our eyes met.

“Why am I not surprised?” I muttered, watching her shrug off her lab coat. Her movements were effortlessly captivating.

“Were you going to say something about Murphy?” she asked, snapping me out of my daze.

“Yeah, right,” I said, shaking off the distraction. “Murphy’s Law applies to the lab too.”

“Oh, I know. ‘Everything that can go wrong will go wrong,’” she recited, her tone matter-of-fact.

“Exactly.” I nodded, impressed.

“But I don’t believe in that,” she said firmly, a spark of defiance lighting her features.

“Of course you don’t.” I had inched closer, almost beside her now.

She gestured toward her successful experiment, a triumphant smile spreading across her face. “Murphy was just a pessimist.”

“And you’re a glass-half-full kind of person?” I probed, towering over her with a teasing grin.

“Technically, the glass is always full. Half with water, half with air.” Her eyes crinkled with mischief.

“Are you trying to be a smart ass?” I leaned my elbow on the bench, bringing us face to face.

“That depends,” she said, her voice dropping, locking her gaze onto mine.

“On what?”

“Do you like smart asses?” She traced a finger along my forearm, sending an electric jolt through my body.

I staggered back, giving her a warning look. She couldn’t be doing this to me—not now.

“Anyway,” she continued, taking a deep breath, “how many of Murphy’s laws do you know?”

Classic Y/N—always one step ahead. I sighed, admitting, “Just the one.”

“That’s it?” Her eyebrows shot up in surprise.

“Enlighten me, then.”

“‘Left to themselves, things tend to go from bad to worse,’” she recited proudly, and I found her knowledge oddly attractive.

A glance at the clock reminded me of the work ahead. How inconvenient.

“That’s a good one. And it’s true,” I said.

“‘Matter will be damaged in direct proportion to its value,’” she continued.

I chuckled. “Also true.”

“Yoongi, you’re one of the grumpiest, most pessimistic people I know, and you don’t know any of these?” She placed her hands on her hips, teasing me with that playful spark in her eyes.

That was it. I straightened from the bench, glaring at her. She was provoking me, and God, did I want her.

“Last one, I promise,” she said with a smile. “’Hot glass looks exactly the same as cold glass.’ Learned that one the hard way.”

Our laughter mingled until Jimin cleared his throat behind us. “Can you keep it down? I’m trying to do science here.”

I rolled my eyes at Jimin, then turned back to Y/N, who was smoothing her ponytail, giggles subsiding. Her happiness was infectious, and I got lost in her eyes.

“Y/N,” I said, struggling to keep my voice even, “we should check on that gel.”

“What gel?” she asked, puzzled.

“The gel, Y/N.” I stared at her, hoping she’d understand.

“Oh… right,” she said, her smile turning knowing.

I followed her to the dark room, anticipation thrumming in my veins. Once inside, I switched off the lights, activating the IN USE signal. Y/N took a sharp breath, her excitement palpable.

“Are you trying to drive me mad?” I whispered, reaching for her face in the darkness.

“Maybe,” she whispered back, her breath warm against my skin.

My hands traveled to her neck, fingers sliding under her ponytail to release her hair. “Y/N… this isn’t smart. We could get caught.” I lifted her onto the counter, the cold bench pressing into my back.

“Not smart,” she agreed, her breath hitching against my neck.

“Do you know how hard it is to keep my hands off you when you provoke me?” My hand slipped under her shirt, cupping her breast. She gasped, and I pressed myself closer, making my point clear.

“Oh, it’s hard all right,” she giggled, wrapping her legs around me.

“You drive me insane, Y/N,” I murmured, biting her lip. She moaned softly, fisting my hair. “Please… can I?”

“Oh God, yes… Yoongi, please.”

She didn’t have to ask twice. I lifted her with one hand, fumbling with the buttons of her jeans with the other. In seconds, I was inside her, stifling my moans into her shoulder.

God bless a dark room.

The weeks drift by in a blur of lab work and secret rendezvous. Y/N is a constant distraction—she teases me, contradicts me, drives me mad, excites me, motivates me, and challenges me all at once. I’ve never felt happier. Having her in my life has transformed my days from monotonous routines into a whirlwind of laughter and unexpected joy. I catch myself cracking jokes that aren’t laced with sarcasm, and I genuinely enjoy explaining new techniques to her, savoring our discussions and her insightful challenges. I never imagined mentoring could be so thrilling—or so fulfilling. Y/N pushes me to be better, to be happier, to have fun.

The lab buzzes with the unspoken tension of our secret. I’m sure everyone suspects something, but we maintain a facade of professionalism. Our attempts to date outside the lab are constantly thwarted by inconvenient encounters with colleagues. It’s frustrating as hell. I don’t care what people think, but the risk of getting into trouble with Jin or Y/N losing her chance to work in the lab keeps us cautious. So, we play the game, keeping up appearances, even though we’ve stolen away to the dark room eight times… not that I’m counting.

As the semester winds down, it becomes harder to heed Yoonji’s advice not to overthink the future. Y/N hopes to land a summer internship in the lab, but I haven’t had the heart to tell her how unlikely that is. Jin has never offered an internship after just one semester. I could vouch for her, but she’s adamant about not wanting special treatment. The thought of her securing an internship elsewhere, leaving for the summer, gnaws at me. The impending separation looms like a dark cloud, promising a long and miserable summer.

Tonight, Jin is hosting the department's end-of-semester party. I sit in my car, ready to drive Y/N there, trying to suppress my annoyance at having to pretend all night. We’re picking up Hoseok and Serena too, a cover to avoid suspicion. Waiting in the car like some kind of creep, I watch the building's entrance.

Then I see her, and all my irritation dissipates. Thank God for May weather—Y/N is wearing a skirt. She smiles at me through the window, and as she gets in, her lips meet mine, her hands finding their way to my neck. I encircle her waist, breathing in deeply, savoring her scent. Even after two months, my need for her is as urgent as ever.

“Hi…” she breathes as she pulls back, her fingers tracing patterns in my hair. I close my eyes, enjoying her touch.

“Hi…” I murmur, resting my forehead against hers. “You’re wearing a skirt.” I groan, my hand sliding down from her waist, over her thigh, and under the soft fabric.

“I am,” she says, her lips brushing my neck. I tease her inner thigh, each stroke inching closer to where I want my fingers to be. “What are you doing?” she whispers in my ear.

“I don’t want to go to this thing.” I nibble her earlobe. “Can we just stay here?” My fingers hover over her panties, but she traps my hand between her thighs.

“No…” she breathes, her voice shaky. “You promised we’d go. Jin invited me personally. Please.”

Her plea makes me relent, and I move back, our foreheads still touching. “But you’re wearing a skirt. You know what that does to me?” I caress her thigh again, unable to resist.

“I have an idea,” she giggles.

“I’m going to be hard and uncomfortable the whole time,” I say, trying to keep my tone light.

“I’ll take care of it afterward,” she promises. I groan again, starting the car.

“Thank you,” she whispers.

As I drive, Y/N fumbles with the radio, displeased with the music.

“Oh, I know!” She reaches for the glove box. “Can we listen to this?” She holds up my mom’s Carpenters CD.

My chest tightens, but I try to smile. I haven’t told her about my parents, and while she knows I moved in with my aunt and uncle as a kid, she hasn’t pried. She’s giving me time, waiting for me to open up.

“Not a chance,” I snap, slipping into our usual banter.

“C’mon, I want to listen to it.”

“Well, I don’t.”

“Why have a Carpenters CD if you don’t like them?”

“Y/N…”

I really don’t want to get into it tonight.

“Just one song, please?” Her eager eyes and smile make it impossible to refuse. I nod, focusing on the road. She opens the case and sees my mom’s note, and my chest tightens again.

“Oh…” she says softly. “You didn’t want me to see this.” She closes the case. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to pry.”

“It’s okay, Y/N. Just put the CD on. It’s fine.”

“No, Yoongi. This obviously has sentimental value. I’m sorry.” Concern etches her features.

“Hey, don’t be upset.” I reach for her face, my thumb brushing her cheek. “Let’s forget it. I’ll tell you about the note another time. Okay?”

“I’m sorry,” she repeats, eyes locked on mine.

“It’s fine.” I smile, pushing thoughts of my parents away. I grab my iPod, knowing exactly what will cheer her up. When The Police starts playing, her smile returns, and all feels right in the world.

I place my hand over hers on her thigh, the sensation of the skirt fabric under our intertwined fingers reminding me of the night ahead.

Oh God, the skirt, the party… this is going to be hell.

“Hey, Y/N! Ready to mingle with the senior citizens?” Hoseok’s voice cuts through the chatter as he hops into the car and settles behind me.

“So, what’s the plan?” Serena chimes in, sliding into the backseat beside Y/N.

“Can we please keep this low-key? We’re just giving Y/N a ride, nothing more,” I say, trying to keep the irritation from seeping into my tone. Of course, they ignore me.

“Y/N, how about you and I walk in first? The boys can follow behind us,” Serena suggests, leaning forward to prop herself between our seats like a self-appointed traffic cop.

“Or… I could stroll in with Y/N, my arm around her shoulders. You know, start some fun rumors,” Hoseok pipes up, a cheeky grin on his face.

“Ow!” He yelps as Serena gives him a swift elbow to the ribs. “Come on, babe! I was just joking!”

“Seriously, Hoseok. That dog act is getting old,” I mutter, catching Serena’s annoyed glare in the rearview mirror.

“How is this not a big deal?” I groan under my breath.

“How about we all walk in holding hands? All four of us!” Y/N suggests, her eyes sparkling with mischief.

I turn to scowl at her. “You too?” She flashes me a grin, scrunching her nose playfully.

We finally pull up to Jin's house, and as we pile out of the car, I notice Y/N walking ahead, chatting with Serena. I fall back next to Hoseok, a knot of anxiety tightening in my stomach.

Inside, Y/N glances back at me, then disappears into the crowd. I greet Jin and grab a drink, then find a spot by the back wall. Familiar faces from the lab are scattered around, some with their families. I find myself chatting with a few of them, even playing with a little kid in a sweater that says “Future Scientist.” I snort at the irony—here's hoping he grows up to be an engineer instead.

To my surprise, I’m not hating this night. I lean against the wall, stealing glances at Y/N as she lights up while talking to Prof. Tanner, one of the few female professors in our department. I’ve heard she can be a total nightmare, but she’s all smiles for Y/N. What gives?

As Y/N mingles, I can’t help but wonder if there’s anyone who wouldn’t be drawn to her charm. Just then, Jungkook appears out of nowhere, planting a quick kiss on her cheek. My heart races, and I shoot up from my chair.

“She’s got it under control,” Serena whispers, her grip firm on my elbow as we watch Y/N step away from Jungkook, saying something before he wanders off. I let out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding, sinking back down in my seat. Y/N glances my way, her eyes briefly meeting mine before she moves on.

“Yoongi, you need to get it together. You’re staring at her like some creepy stalker,” Serena says, finally releasing my elbow.

I sigh, knowing she’s right. We bicker a lot, but beneath her icy exterior, she really does look out for me.

Hoseok appears, holding another round of drinks, and I begin to feel a little lighter. But when I find Y/N again, she’s deep in conversation with Jin. I can see the passion in her gestures, the way she lights up as she talks about her project. It fills me with pride to see how far she’s come this semester, how confident she is now.

Jin glances at me a couple of times during their conversation. I try to focus on my drink, but the curiosity gnaws at me. Is he proud of her? Does he see what I see?

“Dude, Jimin is giving you a death stare,” Hoseok whispers, snapping me out of my thoughts. I follow his gaze and meet Jimin’s dark brown eyes. He quickly looks away, a slight frown on his face.

I shrug, trying to shake off the feeling of unease. “He has a weird stare. You think he suspects something?”

“Probably,” Hoseok says. “I don’t know how much longer you can keep this charade up. It’s torture.” I rub my chest, where a tightness has been growing since Y/N walked away.

“Jeon can’t take a hint, huh?” Hoseok mutters, and I see Y/N accepting a drink from Jungkook.

Are you kidding me?

My hand tightens into a fist on my thigh as I down the rest of my drink, a wave of frustration crashing over me. Y/N smiles at Jungkook, and while I’m somewhat relieved to see it doesn’t reach her eyes like when she smiles at me, it still makes my blood boil. I want her by my side, to claim her as mine. I want Jungkook to back off.

“Dude, calm down,” Hoseok says, placing a hand on my shoulder. I turn to him, exhaling sharply through my nose.

My night is crumbling, and I feel on the verge of snapping.

“I can’t, okay? I’m going to take a breather.” I stand abruptly, forcing myself not to look for Y/N again. I know if I see her with him, I might lose it and drag her away like some caveman.

“Want me to come with you?” Hoseok asks, his concern evident.

“No, I’m fine,” I reply, but my tone lacks conviction.

I storm into Jin’s sprawling backyard, seeking solace in the shadows. I need to figure out what’s happening inside my head. Why does this pressure in my chest hurt so much? It’s ridiculous—I shouldn’t be feeling like this over someone. I should be rational.

Sinking onto a bench, I rest my head in my hands.

God, I’m losing my mind. Or maybe I’m turning into a hypochondriac… or both.

I just want Y/N. I need her. I miss her. I love her.

My head falls back against the bench.

Is this what love feels like?

Suddenly, I hear a soft voice. “Hey… what’s wrong?”

I didn’t even notice Y/N coming outside. I lift my head and lean back, letting out a deep sigh.

“Nothing, I’m fine,” I say, but the anger slips through despite my best efforts.

“Yoongi…” She sits beside me and takes my hand in hers.

“This party sucks!” I snap, but she doesn’t flinch. She never does. Y/N knows me too well, understands my rough edges. I never want to take my frustration out on her.

“What sucks?” Her voice is steady, soothing. How does she do it?

“This stupid party…” I trail off, staring at our hands.

She laughs lightly. “Are you drunk?”

“No! I’m not!” Realizing I raised my voice again, I groan and try to regain my composure. “I want you beside me. I want to tell Jungkook to back off because you’re mine. I want to hold your hand, put my arm around you, keep you warm. I don’t want to hide this anymore.”

“I know…” Y/N reaches for my face, her fingers brushing my hair behind my ear. I lean into her touch, closing my eyes as her words unravel me. “I want to be beside you too,” she whispers, and it feels like the world has shifted. “But right now, it’s not smart for us. The semester is almost over. I’ll find an internship in a different lab, and then we won’t have to hide anymore.”

So I’m screwed either way. If she finds a different lab, we won’t have to keep this secret, but I won’t get to see her every day. And if she stays, we’ll be stuck in this limbo.

“Can we go soon?” I plead, my frustration boiling over. I want to escape this place, take Y/N somewhere safe where I can finally let myself be with her.

“We just got here,” she giggles, trying to lighten the mood. “Stop being so grumpy and let’s get back inside.” She rises, but I grip her hand tightly.

“You know I hate when you call me grumpy.”

“No, you don’t. You love it,” she counters with a bright smile.

I do love it. And I love you.

The words sit heavy on my tongue, burning to be spoken, but I hold them back.

I pulled her gently between my legs, my hand finding its way to her cheek as I brought our lips together. She kissed me back, soft and tentative, but then, with a push against my chest, she pulled away.

I groaned, rising from the bench. “I’ll go in first. You follow in a few minutes, okay?” I needed a moment to gather my thoughts, and the warmth of her fingers lingering on my chest felt like a whisper of reassurance.

“Yeah…” I breathed out, almost a whine.

“And try to have some fun.” She shot me a playful smile that sent a flutter through my chest.

“Yeeees…” I groaned again, turning to walk away.

“You’re being a big baby, you know that, right?” Her teasing tone made me roll my eyes.

“Y/N, don’t provoke me,” I sighed, tugging at the hair on the back of my neck.

“Okay, okay.” She giggled, her laughter lightening the air between us. “I promise to sit by you for a bit.” With that, she let me head inside alone.

I lingered outside for a few more moments, trying to cool off and collect my thoughts before re-entering the fray.

Just as I was about to step back in, Jimin stumbled outside, looking a bit worse for wear. “Yoongi! There you are,” he said, plopping down on the bench next to me.

“Jimin,” I greeted, not really in the mood for small talk.

“So… are you like social now?” he asked, his words slurred from the alcohol he’d consumed.

“What do you mean?” I feigned interest, though I really didn’t care.

“You never used to come to these things,” he pointed out, sounding suspicious, as if I’d committed some sort of crime.

I shrugged and stood up, feeling the urge to escape. “Are you sleeping with your undergrad?” he blurted, trying to whisper but failing miserably.

A glare shot across my face as I realized he suspected something. Jimin was definitely too drunk for this conversation. “Jimin, I think you should stop drinking,” I advised, and when he just stared blankly, I added, “I better get back inside before Hoseok thinks I left without him.” I didn’t wait for his reply as I headed back in.

Y/N was sitting with Hoseok and Serena when I walked over, and the moment she smiled at me, my chest tightened with a mix of longing and pride. I wanted nothing more than to reach out and touch her hand or leg, but I managed to sit back, trying to play it cool.

I was surprisingly glad I’d come. I’d anticipated a dull evening, but it turned out to be quite enjoyable. Watching Y/N all dolled up, chatting with everyone, filled me with a sense of pride.

Then, as Jin started playing Nelly, the atmosphere shifted. Seeing Dr. Amun-Kebi, bow tie and all, dancing to “Hot in Here” was an image that would be burned in my memory forever.

Later, Y/N paced nervously through my room in her underwear, her damp hair leaving a faint mist in the air. I watched her, my heart pounding at the sight of her anxious movements as she rummaged through her bag. The tension felt heavy, almost suffocating.

“Y/N, you’re going to do great,” I said, my voice still laced with sleep as I tried to offer her some comfort.

“You don’t know that,” she replied tightly, finally finding what she was looking for.

“You know this stuff better than anyone else in that room,” I said, propping myself up on my elbows to catch her gaze.

“That’s not true. You’ll be there too.” She faced me, comb in hand, her worry evident as she began to untangle her wet hair.

“Exactly! So, you’ve got nothing to worry about.” I flashed her a reassuring smile, but it felt weak against her rising anxiety.

“I stutter when I’m nervous,” she admitted, her voice wavering as she pulled out her clothes and bent over, her vulnerability stark against the backdrop of my cluttered room.

“Then try to relax,” I said, taking a deep breath. “You’ve put in so much work, and you know your project inside and out. You’ll do amazing, Y/N.”

“What if Jin asks me something I don’t know?” Panic danced in her eyes as she placed her hands on her hips.

“You don’t have to know everything. I’ll be there too—this is my project too. Remember, it’s not a test. The point is to discuss the results together, nothing more.”

Slowly, her frown faded, replaced by a tentative grin. She climbed back onto the bed, straddling me, her wet hair dripping onto my shoulder. The scent of her filled the air, intoxicating, as she leaned in to kiss me softly.

I lay back, tracing the strap of her bra with my finger. “I know how to get you to relax,” I teased.

“Not a chance, Grumpy. We’d be late,” she shot back, rubbing against me just enough to send a bolt of desire through my body.

“Y/N, you’re such a tease,” I groaned, dropping my head back in exasperation.

“And you have a foul mouth, Min,” she replied, disappearing into the bathroom, her voice echoing playfully.

“Which, coincidentally, you love,” I called after her.

She poked her head out, toothbrush in her mouth. “That… I do.”

With a lazy stretch, I got up from the bed, dragging my feet toward the bathroom. She stood by the sink, brushing her teeth in her adorable smiley-face underwear, making me ache with need. “You’re going to pay for my blue balls tonight,” I murmured into her neck, eliciting a giggle as my stubble brushed against her soft skin.

She bent over to rinse her mouth, pressing her behind into the growing bulge in my boxers, causing a deep groan to escape my lips. I playfully smacked her ass as she squealed, darting out of the bathroom.

“Don’t take forever, Grumpy. I want to be early to set things up!”

Y/N and I stood in the seminar room, preparing everything for the presentation. The space was cozy, just big enough for the nine of us in our group, including Jin. After confirming that all the slides displayed correctly, I shot Y/N an encouraging smile and took a seat toward the back, keeping a close eye on her.

I could see the nerves bubbling beneath her composed exterior. We had gone over every detail last night, and I knew she was ready for this moment.

Jin kicked things off with some lab business, and then it was Y/N’s turn to shine. As she started her talk, she stumbled over her words just once at the beginning, but quickly found her rhythm, her confidence blossoming with every passing second. My heart swelled with pride as I watched her speak; she was absolutely incredible.

Jin seemed impressed too, prompting her to elaborate on a few points, which she handled flawlessly. But then Jimin jumped in with questions that felt a bit off-base, probing into unrelated techniques and approaches. Y/N stumbled over a couple of his inquiries, but she made educated guesses, maintaining her poise. Still, I could feel my irritation rising. What the hell was Jimin’s problem?

“That was all nice… uh… Y/N?” Jimin hesitated, clearly relishing the moment as he mispronounced her name. My blood boiled at his deliberate slight.

“I just don’t see the point.”

“The p-point?” Y/N stuttered again, and it took everything in me to keep my temper in check. I wanted to tear Jimin apart for being such a jerk.

“Yeah, I mean… so you found two new toxin genes. How is that going to help anything?” Jimin shrugged dismissively, and I could feel my frustration reaching a boiling point.

Before Y/N could respond, I jumped in, my voice sharper than I intended. “Oh, I’m sorry, Jimin. Are you questioning the impact of my research?”

Jimin turned to face me, a smug expression creeping across his face.

“Yoongi…” Jin’s warning gaze made it clear I needed to rein it in.

“No, seriously. Please, tell me if you are,” I shot back, my eyes locking onto Jimin's, daring him to continue.

“Actually,” Y/N interjected softly from the front of the room, pulling our attention back to her. “I think I might be able to answer that question.” She glanced at me for permission, and I nodded, stepping back to let her take the spotlight.

“Please, go ahead,” Jin encouraged her, his tone supportive.

“Well… if these two toxins are, as we’ve shown, involved in the cancerous growth of stomach epithelium cells, then studying their protein structure and interaction will provide insight into the anomalous stomach pathology caused by H. pylori… and its possible cure.”

I couldn’t have put it better myself. My heart swelled with pride and something deeper. Marry me?

“Marvelous!” Jin exclaimed, while Jimin huffed, sinking into his chair in defeat. My annoyance at Jimin evaporated, replaced by overwhelming joy. I couldn’t take my eyes off Y/N as she smiled, tucking her hair behind her ears. I wanted to run to her, scoop her up in my arms, and kiss her senseless, but I managed to stay seated, a wide grin plastered on my face.

As the room emptied, I lingered behind with Y/N, pretending to help pack up the projector and laptop. It was just an excuse to stay close to her, to contain the waves of emotions crashing inside me. Jin congratulated her one last time before leaving, and I counted his steps, waiting until he was far enough away. My heart raced, and when I could wait no longer, I dropped everything and rushed to Y/N, cupping her face in my hands and kissing her desperately.

“You did amazing!” I said, my voice breathless with excitement.

“I was so nervous!” she admitted, her eyes wide.

“I know, but you nailed it!” I kissed her again, unable to get enough of her.

Still holding her face, I searched her eyes. “Geez, Y/N… you’re incredible. I—” I leaned closer, resting my hands on the table behind her, my lips trying to convey everything words couldn’t. It was more than just her success or my pride as a scientist; it was so much deeper than that.

“I want to cook you dinner tonight,” I said, pulling her into a tight embrace.

She smiled up at me. “You do?”

“Yes. We’re having a celebration date at my place.”

“Okay.”

“Okay.” I kissed the top of her head, reluctantly letting her go as we gathered our things to head back to the lab. My heart was full, my mind racing with excitement and a twinge of fear. I’d never been happier in my life.

Now the only question was: what on earth was I going to cook for Y/N?

We returned to the lab, the earlier tension between Y/N and me fading as we wrapped up our tasks. Her eyes sparkled with determination as she headed off for her final exam, and we agreed to meet at my apartment for dinner later. Just as I was about to slip out early to prepare, an email notification pinged in my inbox.

From: Seokjin Kim, seokjinkim(at)fhcrc(.)org Sent: Friday, May 13, 2024, 4:27 PM To: Yoongi Min, ygmin(at)u(.)washington(.)edu

Yoongi,

We need to talk about your undergrad. Please stop by my office.

Jin

Dr. Seokjin Kim Member, Division of Basic Sciences Fred Hutchinson Cancer Research Center 1100 Fairview Avenue North Seattle, WA 98109-1024

Shit. A cold sweat broke out on my forehead. Jin had never summoned me to his office like this before. He usually came down to the lab if he wanted to talk. The email's terse tone sent a chill racing down my spine. There was only one reason he’d call me in like this—he knew about Y/N and me.

That jerk, Jimin, must have said something.

No point speculating now; I had to face Jin. My heart raced as I imagined the worst. He’d tell me Y/N and I couldn’t be together, that she wouldn’t be able to work in the lab anymore. The thought twisted my gut with regret. I should have been more careful, kept my feelings in check.

Shit.

I knocked on Jin’s door and stepped inside. He was facing his computer, barely glancing at me as I sank into the chair across from him.

“Hello, Yoongi. Take a seat,” he said, his voice calm but layered with an undercurrent I couldn’t quite place. “Let me just finish this email.”

I watched him type, the sound of the keys echoing like a death knell. Finally, he turned, a smile dancing on his lips that didn’t quite reach his eyes. I nodded, trying to mask my nerves, my hands gripping the chair arms.

“I have to say, I was very impressed with Y/N’s seminar. She showed a broad knowledge of the project, answered questions confidently, and gathered an impressive amount of data for just one semester.”

“She is incredible,” I blurted out before I could stop myself.

Nice, Yoongi. Way to keep it cool.

Jin raised an eyebrow, nodding. “She does seem very mature, dedicated, and hardworking.”

“She is.” I couldn’t help but think of all the moments we’d shared, both in the lab and out.

“So, I called you in here for two things. First, I want to offer Y/N a position as a summer intern. What do you think?”

My heart leaped. Jin had never offered an undergrad a position after just one semester. This was amazing! Y/N was going to be thrilled.

“That’s… um… that’s great! She completely deserves it, and it would be an incredible opportunity for her. She wants to apply to grad school next fall, so summer research would be really beneficial.”

“I see… so you approve?” Jin asked, tilting his head.

The way he looked at me made my blood run cold. He didn’t need my approval. Something was off.

“O-of course,” I stammered, my instincts telling me there was more to this conversation.

“Well, that leads to the second thing I wanted to discuss.” He shifted in his chair, crossing his legs as if he were settling in for a serious talk.

Here we go…

“It seems you have a very close relationship with Y/N. You seem very… protective of her.”

I knew it! Jimin must have spilled the beans. My fists clenched at the thought.

“Now, I understand it’s in your nature—her being under your care and all—to be protective. But there’s something else,” Jin continued, tapping his finger against his lips thoughtfully. “I’ve noticed the change she’s brought about in you. It’s fascinating.”

Geez… Jin and his fascination.

Before I could respond, he went on. “Of course, I would never ask if there’s something unprofessional going on because that would be tactless. However, you should know that involving yourself in a romantic relationship with an undergrad—especially if she’ll be getting paid for the summer—is completely unacceptable.”

Fucking shit.

My hands gripped the chair so tightly that my knuckles turned white. I couldn’t do this. Hiding my feelings for Y/N felt impossible, but I’d have to—for her sake. This was an incredible opportunity. We’d have to keep it up until she graduated. Damn, that was a whole year! Maybe I could graduate sooner, find a job in another lab…

Jin was staring at me, eyebrows raised, when suddenly he burst out laughing, the sound echoing in the small office.

“I’m just messing with you, kid.” He slapped his thighs as his laughter subsided. “Your personal life outside this lab is none of my business. As long as it doesn’t affect your work or hers, I have no problem with it.”

I stared at him, dumbfounded. Did he just say what I thought he said?

“You know, when I met Mrs. Kim, she was a post-doc in this lab.”

“I didn’t know that…” I exhaled, the tension draining from my body.

“Well, now that this is settled, I’ll offer Y/N the position.”

“O-okay.”

Still in shock, I left Jin’s office. Before I even reached the lab, my phone rang—Y/N, squealing about Jin’s offer. I didn’t mention my conversation with him; I’d save that for tonight during our celebration dinner.

Our celebration dinner… Oh God. What was I thinking? I couldn’t cook!

I definitely needed to stop at the grocery store unless I wanted to serve Y/N mac and cheese for dinner. Sighing, I realized I had no idea what to prepare. Time to turn to my all-knowing best friend: Google.

Search: What to cook for your girlfriend? Search Results: 5 Easy Meals To Cook For Her – AskMen.com

AskMen.com? Seriously?

Chipotle Shrimp Kabobs…

What the actual fuck?

Sautéed Lemon Garlic Chicken…

Really, AskMen? Really?

I groaned, frustration bubbling up. This was not going well. Maybe I should try again.

Search: Easy dinner for two Search Results: Cooking for Two Recipes – Allrecipes.com

Allrecipes.com? I think I’ve heard Yoonji mention this site before.

Salmon with Raspberry Ginger Glaze…

Holy shit! And these are the easy ones?

I slammed my forehead against the desk repeatedly. Okay, maybe I should stick to something I already knew how to make… like grilled cheese. Or pasta! I could whip up some pasta sauce.

Search: Easy Pasta Sauce Search Results: Easy Vodka Sauce – Allrecipes.com

Now we’re talking.

I jotted down all the ingredients and headed to the store, feeling a flicker of hope.

I was chopping onions into tiny squares when my phone buzzed with a text from Y/N.

Undergrad: I’m done with the semester! Woot! Woot! Do you want me to come early to help with dinner?

Yes… please… no!

C’mon, I can handle this. How hard could it be? Just follow the protocol, Min.

Me: What? No faith in me, Y/L/N?

I typed quickly, trying not to let the onion juice splatter all over my cell.

Shit…

Undergrad: I would prefer not to get food poisoning. I have an internship this summer! :)”

I couldn’t help but smile at the screen.

Me: You’re distracting me. See you here at 7. P.S. Smiley faces are lame.”

Undergrad: And you, my Grumpy, are adorable!

I chuckled, my heart racing with excitement. Maybe I could do this after all. Just as long as I didn’t burn the kitchen down.

When Y/N knocked at the door, it was only a quarter to seven. I had the garlic bread in the oven, and the sauce still needed another thirty minutes to simmer. I’d hoped to squeeze in a quick shower before she arrived, but clearly, that plan was a bust.

I opened the door to find Y/N standing there, a bright smile lighting up her face. “Did you wrestle the tomatoes?” she giggled, tiptoeing in for a quick kiss. “Hi…”

I wanted nothing more than to pull her close, but I was covered in tomato juice and splatters from head to toe. “Give me a sec,” I said, retreating to my bedroom to change.

When I returned, she was by the sink, eyes wide as she surveyed the chaos I’d created. “Geez, Yoongi. How many things are you making?” She gestured dramatically to the pile of pots and utensils stacked high.

“Just the one dish, Y/N,” I replied, trying to sound casual while stirring the bubbling sauce.

“Did you feel the need to use every pot in the kitchen? Were you trying them all out?” She raised an eyebrow, a teasing smile on her lips.

“Okay, Y/L/N. You’re getting on my nerves. I’m trying to cook here.” I continued mixing, trying to ignore her playful jabs.

“You should use a wooden spoon,” she advised, inching closer with a wooden spoon in hand. “The metal one makes the sauce acidic. The metal reacts with the pH of the tomatoes—”

I shot her a glare. “I didn’t even know I owned a wooden spoon,” I grumbled, taking it from her. “I almost have a PhD, you know.”

“Okay… okay… Mr. PhD.” She waved her hands in mock surrender. “Can I play some music?” She reached for my laptop on the counter and gasped, laughter bubbling out. “Oh my gosh… you googled the meaning of sautéed?”

“Okay, that’s it, Y/L/N.” I pretended to drop the wooden spoon over the counter dramatically. “No dinner for you.” I pointed a finger at her, struggling to keep a straight face.

“I’m sorry!” she laughed, and I stepped closer, cornering her against the counter. “It does smell delicious,” she whispered, running a finger down my chest.

“And I haven’t even showered yet.” I dropped kisses along her neck, my hand sliding beneath the hem of her shirt.

“You do smell delicious too,” she said in a husky whisper.

“Liar. I stink of onions.”

“Only a little bit.” She giggled into my neck as I lifted her up onto the counter. “Thanks for making me dinner.”

“My pleasure,” I murmured, nuzzling her neck. She smelled amazing—like warmth and sunshine. I pulled back to look into her eyes. “Congratulations on your internship, Y/N. You absolutely earned it.”

“Yeah… about that,” she said, a nervous giggle escaping her lips. “I haven’t said yes yet.”

“Why not?” I asked, confusion painting my features.

“Well, I have to think about it.”

“Y/N, it’s an incredible opportunity. Jin has never offered an internship to a student after only one semester of work.”

“I know… but…” She bit her lip, trailing off.

“What is it?” I cupped her cheek with my hand, rubbing my thumb along her skin.

“Well… are we going to be okay if I join the lab for the summer? We’ll have to keep hiding this, and I know it’s been getting… um… difficult… for both of us.”

I sighed in relief, a smile creeping onto my face. It was sweet of her to include herself, especially when I’d been the one making everything complicated. The thought of her giving up this chance for us made my heart swell. “Yeah… about that…” I echoed her earlier words. She looked at me expectantly. “I’m sorry I’ve been so difficult about the whole thing… but it turns out, we don’t need to hide anymore. I mean, we should still keep things professional in the lab and all, but… Jin sort of knows.”

“WHAT?” She pushed me back with a hand on my chest, her eyes wide.

“I think it was becoming obvious, Y/N. He didn’t ask me directly, but he said our personal life had nothing to do with our work. As long as it didn’t affect our performance, he didn’t care.”

“He doesn’t care?” Her voice was still high-pitched with surprise.

“Apparently, his wife worked for him once too…” I shrugged, returning my attention to dinner. I stirred the sauce and tossed a pinch of salt into the boiling water before adding the spaghetti.

“That… that changes things,” she said slowly, her brow furrowed.

I stepped back between her legs, looking into her eyes. “What is it?”

“So, um… do you want me to take the internship? You won’t get tired of me?”

“What kind of question is that, Y/N?” I shook my head, feeling a pang in my chest. “I’ve been aching, physically hurting, thinking about you taking an internship somewhere else and leaving me for the whole summer.”

Her smile was radiant, brightening the dim kitchen. “You have?”

“Yes…”

“Well, it looks like I won’t be going anywhere,” she declared.

“Good. Because I have a lot of work to do, and I could really use an overachieving undergrad with some pretty amazing skills at the bench.”

“I’d say my skills go beyond the bench. Wouldn’t you agree?” she asked, a teasing smirk playing on her lips.

“I would…” I pointed the wooden spoon at her playfully. “But don’t distract me now, or I’ll burn your dinner.”

Dinner turned out surprisingly well. We ate as she excitedly recounted her classes, finals, classmates, and professors. I sat back, just soaking in the sight of her—how her eyes lit up when she spoke, how her mouth curved into a smile, the way her eyebrows danced with every emotion. Watching her enjoy life, so passionate and full of energy, felt like a precious gift I never wanted to take for granted.

Y/N was drying the last few dishes, the rhythmic swish of the towel against porcelain filling the quiet kitchen with a comforting cadence. I approached her from behind, the warmth of her body radiating toward me as I leaned in to kiss her neck. The familiar flutter of anticipation twisted in my stomach. “You want to show off some of those non-bench skills of yours?”

She turned to me, a playful smile on her lips. As I leaned on the counter, I caught a whiff of my own odor wafting up. “God, I stink…”

Her laughter bubbled up, light and teasing. “It’s fine.”

“Do you mind if I take a quick shower?” I asked, a hopeful lilt creeping into my voice.

“Can I join you?”

A grin broke across my face, and I took her hand, leading us toward the bathroom. The air between us crackled with a tension that felt electric, urging me to shed my shirt and pants before we even reached the shower.

She kicked off her shoes, her fingers deftly unbuttoning her jeans while I turned the water on, steam swirling like ethereal ghosts in the dim light. “May I?” I asked, wrapping my fingers around her wrist. She nodded, her eyes shimmering with mischief.

With practiced ease, I unbuttoned her jeans, sliding them down to her ankles. As I knelt to kiss her calves, then her knees, and finally her thighs, her giggles rang out like music, lifting the weight of the world off my shoulders. “Your scruff tickles,” she said, her voice bright and breathy.

I lifted her shirt over her head, tracing my fingers along the delicate straps of her bra. Once our underwear was discarded like forgotten memories, I pulled her close, feeling her warmth envelop me as her legs wrapped around my waist. Our differing heights made this an all-too-familiar arrangement, a perfect fit for everything we were about to share.

She squealed as I jumped into the shower, icy water hitting us both and sending shockwaves of heat through my body. Her lips found mine, soft and insistent, and I pressed her back against the cool tiles, the world outside fading away.

“Put me down,” she murmured hoarsely into my ear.

I obliged, feeling the rush of her kisses trailing down my chest as she sank to her knees, a wicked smile playing on her lips.

“Y/N…” I breathed, leaning against the slick wall for support, knowing what was coming. This was one of her non-bench skills—a skill I’d come to appreciate in ways I couldn’t quite articulate. The water cascaded over us, hot and cold, our bodies entwined in a dance as old as time.

She began slowly, teasing, her hands wrapping around me, her tongue swirling around my tip, and I groaned, the sound swallowed by the rushing water. My instincts told me to hold back, but the pleasure was too sweet, too intoxicating.

“Y/N…” I rasped, the words spilling out like a confession, “I’m… shit…”

But she didn’t relent. No, she tightened her grip and quickened her pace, and as my knees weakened beneath me, I surrendered to the waves of ecstasy crashing over me. I grabbed at the shower curtain rod, but it shook under my weight. I couldn’t hold on anymore.

With a final, desperate groan, I let go, surrendering to the moment, the pleasure consuming me entirely. She rose from her knees, licking her lips, that look in her eyes making my heart race. “You are one talented woman,” I murmured against her neck, panting.

Still wrapped around me, I stumbled into the bedroom, a tangle of limbs and laughter. I collapsed onto the bed, her body beneath me, and kissed her everywhere, exploring the soft curves that felt like home.

I knelt beside the bed, pulling her legs over my shoulders, my hands wandering over her hips as I feasted on the sweetness before me. The taste of her was electric, sending jolts of desire straight to my core.

“God, Y/N, you taste even better than you smell,” I groaned, losing myself in her as she writhed beneath my touch, her moans filling the air like a siren’s song.

It was then that I realized bringing her pleasure was no longer just a thrill; it was my favorite pastime, a dance of intimacy that bound us closer than any words could express. I placed soft kisses along her body, the world outside fading into obscurity, leaving only us—lost in our own private paradise.

“Mmmmmm… Yoongi…” she sighed, fingers tangling in my hair. “Very… talented… yourself.”

I chuckled, planting another kiss on her lips, affection bubbling up like a tide. I love you, I love you, I love you…

“Inside… now,” she commanded, breathless and eager.

“Yes, ma’am,” I grinned, knowing this night would linger in our memories long after the water had dried.

“Y/N?” I gently comb my fingers through her damp hair, the strands clinging to my chest like the remnants of a storm.

“Hmm?” Her voice is soft, almost dreamy, as if she’s still wrapped up in the warmth of the moment.

“I… I want to tell you about my parents.” As I speak, she lifts her head, folding her arms over my chest, resting her chin there like it’s a pillow—a sanctuary amid the chaos of my memories.

A tiny grin dances on her lips, and she nods, encouraging me to continue.

“You probably guessed that they’re dead, right?”

She nods again, her gaze steady. “I know they’re not part of your life now… I figured something must have happened.”

“My dad died when I was four,” I say, the words tumbling out bluntly, like the beginning of a ghost story.

“I’m sorry…” Her voice is small, fragile.

“I don’t remember him, except for pictures.” I shrug, trying to shake off the weight of the past. “He had pretty aggressive colon cancer—killed him in two months.”

“Oh my God, Yoongi… I’m so sorry.”

“It’s fine.” I attempt a smile, but it probably comes out crooked and imperfect, like an old photograph faded by time. “So it was just my mom and me for a while… but when I was eleven, she was diagnosed with breast cancer.”

Her eyes widen, a shadow of understanding crossing her face as she starts rubbing gentle circles on my chest with her fingers, an attempt to soothe the pain I’m dredging up.

“She was so strong, though. She fought it for almost two years, with the most eager and positive attitude you can imagine. Kind of like you, in a way.” I flash her another smile, hoping to lighten the moment, but Y/N’s eyes glisten with unshed tears, and she remains silent, letting me spill my heart.

“When she started getting worse, we moved in with my aunt, uncle, and Yoonji. My dad’s brother, Namjoon, is one of the best oncologists on the West Coast. But after metastasis, there was pretty much nothing else he could do.”

“And that’s why you do cancer research,” she says, piecing it all together.

“It was Namjoon’s idea, really. He talked about how frustrating it was, being an oncologist, waiting for new therapies, new drugs, and discoveries. I figured it made sense to devote my life to that.”

“It does…” she replies, her tone soft but firm, a steady anchor in my turbulent sea of memories.

“I know it’s not a very profitable career…” I pause, the weight of Estelle’s words echoing in my mind, the sting of her judgment lingering like a bad dream—wasting my time.

“Profitable?” Her disbelief catches me off guard, pulling me from my thoughts. “What do you need so much money for anyway? You’re doing something you love. Something meaningful. That’s so much more important.”

Y/N renders me speechless with her insight, her understanding washing over me like a wave, leaving me breathless. I kiss the top of her head, the moment stretching between us until I decide to share the last piece of my story, the promise I made her before.

“My mom… um… she loved The Carpenters. She would make me sing their songs to her all the time. At the end—when she was breathing through a tube and couldn’t speak anymore—she wrote that note you saw on the CD.”

“‘I’ll be with Daddy soon’?” Y/N remembers, her voice barely a whisper, the words hanging heavy in the air.

“Yes…” I run a hand through my hair, staring at the ceiling as if the white paint might offer me some solace. I try to breathe through the lump in my throat. “I still miss her… so much.” I keep my eyes fixed on the ceiling, willing them not to fill with tears, blaming the onions and their cruel sulfenic acids when they finally betray me.

After a few deep breaths, I turn to face Y/N, who is sniffling, her hands trembling slightly.

“Y/N, don’t cry. Please.”

“I’m sorry. It’s just so sad. I’m so sorry.” She cries over my chest, and I run my hand over her hair, creating a soothing rhythm in the storm of emotions.

“I know. But I’m okay. I’m happy now.”

“You are?”

“Yes, because of you.”

Her sniffles dissolve into giggles, a beautiful mix of laughter and tears, and she never ceases to amaze me with her resilience.

“I love you, Y/N.” The words burn in my throat, raw and true, echoing in the empty spaces of my heart.

She lifts her head, staring at me through her wet eyelashes, and I know she can feel how my heart pounds beneath her. I’m overwhelmed by emotions, but I’ve never spoken truer words. After a moment, Y/N’s hand reaches behind my neck, and her lips collide with mine in a passionate kiss, her tears mingling with mine.

“And I love you…” she breathes in between kisses, her voice trembling with sincerity. “So… so… so much.”

We fall asleep like that, her warm body over my chest, the world fading away. I feel a profound relief, a weight lifting as she gets to know me in ways no one ever has. And even though shadows of uncertainty linger about our future, I realize I don’t have to solve everything right now. Like Y/N said, I would savor my time—my time with her, my time in school. As long as she was by my side, nothing else mattered. I was doing what I loved, and the person I loved was right there with me. It couldn’t possibly get any better than this.

286 notes · View notes

luv-gukkie · 9 months ago

Text

★j𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐦𝐞 ★

pairing: yandere! min yoongi x f. reader

genre: fluff? || smut || non-idol au || yandere

summary: after a couple of months of just staring at the same four walls, you realize you do love yoongi as much as he loves you, or maybe you’re just trying to survive.

word count: +2.1k

tags/warnings: yoongi kidnaps reader, unprotected sex, yoongi is delusional asf...(a ‘bit’ crazy in the head), pregnancy, murder(s), stockholm syndrome, mentions of drugging, unconsensual touching, dom! yoongi, sub!reader, stalking, reader starts going crazy lowkey

notes: this is more like a small drabble for yoongi :) and its kinda written to show that the reader is losing her mind, sorry if it’s confusing!

༻❤︎︎ ★ ★ ❤︎︎༺

min yoongi was a man of a few words. he liked to relax his mind with his own devices; never one to say much with other people, even to himself. he was an introvert from the very start. his past relationships were always left in pieces; left with girls in tears while munching on tubs of ice cream left and right from such a lousy boyfriend who never cared about them. how he couldn't save their relationship from ruins, leaving it to dissolve with no worries at all for the future of what they could be. if he's honest, yoongi doesn't even know (or care to) how he managed to get women to go out with him. what he thought was just a couple of hookups was actually a relationship to some of his 'girlfriends'. maybe, he just couldn't understand women or maybe, just maybe, he was a sleazy ass who preferred to be by himself.

but, yoongi preferred to say that he loved his alone time more and wasn't prepared for a full-time relationship. the peace that he had built within his mind was enough for him. yoongi didn't really need anything else around him except for money, which was his income from working a boring office job from nine to five; monday to friday with decaf coffee in his hands daily and blue light glasses to protect him from the screen of his desktop.

the constant noise of the people around him were just annoying crowds that he couldn't handle. that was until he landed his eyes on you. it's a day he clearly remembers from sunrise to dawn. how could he ever forget seeing such a pretty face?

it was just his luck that his apartment was far from the city. one word could describe his apartment: perfect. the land was extremely quiet since no one else lived around. the only exceptional noise that would interrupt the silence would be the animals: the deers that would constantly communicate with the others, bunnies hopping around, hummingbirds that chirp with soft ends, or the baby opossums that would sneeze to get their parents' attention. yoongi's house had more than enough of love. he lived for it. however, it never hurts to add more to a loving house, especially when he was missing someone by his side. yoongi couldn't believe his luck on how this apartment was so excluded from the world; from the hands of society. it's exactly what he needed when he wanted to play his guitar with no one knocking on his door to disturb him. or when he wanted to listen to his music out loud, or to keep you safe in his home. its like it was meant to hide someone inside it, and the best part is that no one would ever know. no person can search somewhere they don't know exist. in other words, you were meant to be his.

the second you were inside, yoongi had basically erased your existence from earth. your missing poster left on wooden poles, shops, and shown on the news. and yet, not a single trace of you was found; questions about your appearance went unanswered. everyone was clueless on what could've happened to you. your disappearance was a complete mystery to everyone: where had you gone?

are you still alive?

it was uncomfortable to wake up. your head was pounding and the dizziness that took place in your head only further pushed you to have nausea. "finally." a deep, unsettling voice boomed out of somewhere. startled by the sudden noise, you quickly glance up to catch sight of a man's eyes. he stood right next to the door. that was the beginning of a new chapter. you were slipping away from sanity as time passed. most of the time, you were left alone. 'where am i?' You just sat on the bed trying to figure out what happened; what was happening. the man who stood in the corner — you learned his name was Yoongi — left after a while. he would talk a little with you before leaving the room, saying something about grocery shopping.

you kept up a calm facade for the sake of survival. You had to or else you didn't know what your captor would do to you. you had full knowledge that he had the possibility of hurting you, or even worse, he could kill you. just like he had the guts to take you from your own freedom and dreams from when you were a little girl.

but there was no stopping time. it crept up until you realized that you've done nothing to help yourself get out. you've sat there day and night, acting like a good girl for him when it wasn't even you who wanted to be there. you've wasted seconds that led into days and you hope that it doesn't go on to years because you've truly lost yourself in this house. so, you prepared and waited until he left to act out. what he didn't know wouldn't hurt him.

as soon as Yoongi disappeared from your room and heard another door close, you took the opportunity to do what you don't usually do. all your yells for help and screams of desperation were drowned by the trees. You kept losing hope each wasted second. you were watching it slowly fall away from your grasp, and you couldn't do anything. the remorse of watching as the days went by and you were still stuck in a room locked in by your captor. It was just him and you. You and him. but he swore on the stars that when the time comes, it will no longer just be him and you, but mini-hims and mini-yous waddling around the house.

the small interactions you had with him were uncomfortably awkward for you, and you could clearly tell that he knew. and yet, he stuck around, choosing to stay and 'talk' with you. he didn't want you to think you were alone. he would be there for you.

as the weeks passed, the situation worsened for you. at first it was him moving into the room along with his things, then the part where he started sleeping next to you, and eventually to changing in front of you, touching you, and kissing you. Soon enough, it got more intense. That's when you knew you had to get out someway. You knew what step was next when his touching didn't stop at a few pecks. yoongi began to play with your tits, holding your ass tight to his crotch every night. you just couldn't get away from him.

everything was fucking shut tight. you felt the heat of anger crawling in your body. each window was locked, even the cabinets were locked. there were also hidden cameras. it was just your luck when you had found one in the bedroom hidden perfectly. you were very surprised when you saw it peeking out of the lights. it just proved to you that yoongi was a fucking lunatic. he had been watching you and you were fucking clueless about it. but it also meant that there could of been hundreds of these tiny cameras recording you. you needed to get out.

you couldn't take it any longer. You were watched every single second. You were touched when he was home. You just couldn't keep it going like this. it was your breaking point. you screamed, sobbed, and whimpered at the fact that you were here. 'pathetic', you thought. there you were crying miserably on your mattress without trying to escape.

you heard the door open and then close, you dug your head into your pillow as the footsteps came closer. "it's okay." You immediately felt the presence of Yoongi by your side, pulling you up into a hug. he was panting. "I was worried about you." The hug got tighter. "I came here as fast as I could."

yoongi had worried about you. in that moment, you realized that maybe you gave up long ago. That's why you let him do what he did, after all, a whole year did pass without your knowledge. missing posters crumbling on the floor as the world continued to revolve without your existence. You had gotten used to his presence, his kisses, his behavior, and his love towards you. You were so frightened at first and used his attraction for you as a shield.

he kissed your lips gently before sticking his tongue inside of your mouth. your arms unconsciously wrapped around him. And for the first time, you let him touch you with his love and lust. the unbuckling of his belt made goosebumps grow out of excitement. With one thrust, your pussy sucked him in whole. Yoongi lowly groaned while you whimpered at the sudden feeling of his cock inside of you."I love you."

Yoongi waited. Were you going to say it back? his hips pounded into you with a harsh pace. You guttered nonsense as you quickly held onto his shoulders for support. the overstimulation flourishing on your cunt as his cock disappeared inside of you. "I-I love you..."

He kissed your nose gently. Yoongi stayed still until you came, cunt squirting around his cock with need. He moved his cock out slowly before filling you back in, his hot tip reach your cervix. a smile on his lips as he continued to repeat his desperate actions. a yearn in him to hear you moan in his ears louder. to make sure his cockhead reached your soft spot good enough that you would be whimpering under him as his cock perfectly managed to hit your g-spot. yoongi sucked on your skin, groaning against it as your pussy clenched around him. you were so perfect. his fingers dived into your hair as you milked his dick dry. his pace got sloppier, soft grunts escaping his throat as you legs wrapped him closer to you. yoongi pushed himself until he was deep inside of you, cumming with a loud moan leaving his lips. limbs comforting each other as the stars shined brightly until the sun outshined them once again.

the constant fear of you leaving had vanished in yoongi. replaced with a loving emotion that never left him once. While you slept in his arms, he eyed you. his fingers tracing over your arms, "I really do love you." And he meant that. That's why no one was ever around the area his apartment was in. He made sure the cameras he brought were in use to protect his territory from trespassers. buying red, bold signs to keep people out of what's supposed to be kept hidden, and for anyone who didn't listen, there's a reason he bought a shotgun. he killed anyone that passed the border between your world and reality. it's really the main reason for the cameras that were placed everywhere: inside and outside.

And as time passed rather quickly, your stomach grew and your tits swelled with milk. yoongi couldn't contain the pure excitement when he found out. you were pregnant with his child; a family both of you were able to grow out of dreams. yoongi smiled as he talked day and night, chuckling as he pressed his ear and hands to your stomach. he couldn't be happier that everything he dreamt of was finally happening.

All he had to do was wait and the perfect family he had planned for years prior had been achieved. you were clueless to everything he'd done, maybe cause of the constant drugs that he put in your food and drinks. secretly hiding away inside the locked cabinets. yoongi's lips kissed your head with softness while you carried his tiny daughter in your arms after nine months of constant patience and care. "I really do love you, __." the tears that swelled up in your eyes reminding you of your past; memories that once rested coming back to haunt you. you felt the knot inside your throat, the disgusting taste of wanting to throw up because of the gruesome sight in front of you. The doctor's snow-colored coat was splattered with his own blood. he was dead, stabbed to death by your yoongi. the knife in the middle of his chest tensing you up along with the other harsh cuts against his skin. "I had to", was all he repeated, "for our baby." his fingers gently wiping the tears from your cheeks, "say it." You felt like you couldn't breathe during that moment. everything was taking you back to day one. "i-", you paused as your voice trembled, "i love you." the pile of blood grew, drowning out the wooden floor. a faint pink colored yoongi's cheeks, "i love you more."

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yearofinstitutionalization · 2 months ago

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416/638 One Suga a day while he is away

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93sdboy · 11 months ago

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SUGA | Agust D TOUR 'D-DAY' in the USA random icons

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lostbookmark · 4 months ago

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MDNI 18+

WHISPERED SECRETS Masterlist

Summary: After four years, your sister's ex-boyfriend comes back into your life. Can you keep your entanglement a secret? Will the guilt eat you alive?

Pairing: Sisters Ex Yoongi x Insecure F. Reader.

Genre: SMUT, angst, hurt - comfort, romance.

Warning: Explicit sex, fingering, Possessive Yoongi, swearing, reader is insecure, jealousy, punishment, unprotected sex, drinking, dirty talk, praising, degradation, spanking, spanking as punishment, teasing, hair pulling, arguments. Over use of the name baby. Squirting.

A/N: I just wanted to say thank you to everyone. I was so SCARED to post on here, not really knowing what I was doing. When I hit the post button, I wanted to delete it right away. I didn't expect anyone to read it, and when the first person liked it, I was so ecstatic. I want to thank all the readers, rebloggers, and the ones who messaged me.

SMUT! SMUT! SMUT! SMUT!

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“Yoongs, can you zip my dress,” you yell from the bathroom. You wait, wait, and wait. You can't hear him anywhere in the apartment. “Yoongs?”

“I'm here, sorry,” he says, turning the corner and entering the bathroom and finally helping you do up the zipper. “Look at you. That dress is quite….clingy.”

“You don't like it,” you smirk and look over your shoulder at him.

“Oh, I do,” he said, kissing your shoulder. “Why don't we just stay home tonight. I'll show you just how much I like it.”

“Mr. Min,” you gasp. “You can't miss this event. What will Joon think if his partner isn't there?”

Yoongi did it. He finally gave into Namjoon and has officially become a partner in Persona. His role at the company didn't really change that much. He still wrote, produced, and had his quiet little sanctuary. He just had to wear a suit every now and then for meetings. You couldn't believe it when he said that he was going to buy in and be a co-owner. You asked why he had changed his mind. His answers were always vague. You wondered if he had something up his sleeve.

You, you loved your summer art program and learned so much. It was a lot of work, but it helped you grow as an artist. You were nervous about the art exhibition at the end of your program. Yoongi showed up happily supporting you. Your friends showed up, and your dad showed up with his new girlfriend. She was nice, and you enjoyed getting to know her, and much to your surprise, your mom showed up. You found out your dad had given her an invite. Yoongi didn’t want to leave your side when she showed up and made sure to cling right to you. You told him softly that you needed to be able to talk to her alone. He left reluctantly with Lisa and Jimin, giving you the space that you needed.

You noticed your mom looked brighter and was actually civil to everyone. She had complimented your pieces and asked how your program went. She then apologized to you and said that she was proud of you. She went on to say how she started therapy and needs to learn how to love herself again so she can love you properly like she always should have. She told you how she always had a dream to travel and take pictures when she was young but never had a chance since she married young and then soon after had you and your sister. She's now taking your lead and is going to go for it. You hear your sister is upset about this, now your mom won't be at her beck and call anymore. You unblocked her that night.

Yoongi had asked you if you would now finally apply to go to school full time. You surprised him by saying no. He wanted to argue, but you wouldn't let him. You loved your experience, but you loved him more. WIth his new role and your whole workload, you didn't have much time with him. You loved your job, and you loved your office with the parking lot view that you now shared with Seungkwan. You were happy to just do your drawings for you. You think you might open an Etsy shop or some form of online store and try to sell them one day…but not now. You were happy, and he finally conceded.

“Fine,”Yoongi sighs and kisses you. “Go get a necklace, and I’ll help you put it on.”

You roll your eyes at him and enter your bedroom. You stop dead in your tracks and look at the bed. There was a plate with rolls on it sitting on the end of the bed. You stare at it in confusion.

“What's this?” You ask him.

“Early birthday present,” he calls out from the bathroom.

You take the top roll off the pile and plan on shoving as much of it in your mouth that you can. However, you don't….you can't. Upon taking it, you revealed a black velvet box. One much like your ring currently on your finger came in. You can't move. You feel frozen looking at it. Arms come and wrap around your middle. Yoongi plucks the box from the plate and turns you in his arms, lovingly staring at you. He smirks and strokes the smooth skin of your cheek. Slowly, he drops down onto one knee. It's real, you realize. This is really happening. He pops open the box, and you almost faint as you see what's inside. A huge square cut diamond ring placed beautifully on its cushion. It's huge…huge, you think it's bigger than the one your sister had worn all those months ago. Is this why he finally decided to partner with Namjoon?

“It's been almost a year since I found you again. I never believed in fate but that night when I saw you again. That night changed everything, ” he said softly. You could tell he was nervous by the way his hand shook just a bit. “I don't ever want to lose you again. Will you marry me?”

“Yes,” you say quietly. He slips the ring on your finger, and it's a perfect fit. Throwing your arms around him, the two of you fall to the floor. “I love you, I love you, I love you.”

“I love you too,” he murmurs against your lips. Pulling back, he gives you a questioning stare. “You really didn't know about this?” You shake your head no. “Hmm, Lisa and Jisoo came with me to pick it out. I guess I owe her one for keeping a secret.” You laugh and kiss him again.

Jisoo, Lisa, and Seungkwan all coo over how gorgeous your ring looks on your finger. The diamond sparkles and shines under the lights of the hotel lobby where the four of you gather.

“I can't believe you guys kept this a secret!” You exclaim, looking at them.

“I didn't know,” Seungkwan tells you.

“That's because you have a bigger mouth than me,” Lisa snarks. “I'm going to find Jimin.” Blowing you a kiss, she struts off and leaves Seungkwan pouting.

“I’m going to go find Yoongi. I'm sure he's loving all the conversations forced on him right now,” you tell your other two friends, hugging them goodbye.

Yoongi hates these events. Industry insiders all kiss each other's ass to get something they want. It might be a charity event, but social climbing will come first. It's the worst. Fake smiles, fake laughs. You've had to fake awe and excitement over some big names before, and Yoongi loves you for it. Supposedly…..you're charming. You spot him engaged in a conversation with two unknown men. They were good-looking, of course, and you silently cursed your boyfriend…fiancée for being in this damn industry. When you reach them, you slide your hand up his chest, smiling at his guests.

“Sweetheart,” he says and widens his eyes a bit. You get it….game on. “This is Choi Seungcheol and Yoon Jeonghan. They own Darling Media, and they're looking to partner together for future projects.”

“Oh wow,” you gasp and giggle. “It's so nice to meet you.”

“The pleasure is all ours,” Jeonghan says, taking your hand and kissing the back of it. You giggle again, and it seems to do the trick.

“Yes,” Seungcheol says, clearing his throat. His eyes definitely did a once over, and Yoongi definitely glared a bit. “We found a new, talented artist who we think would be an asset to Persona.”

“Who,” Yooongi asks the handsome man.

“His name is Kai. I believe that he is friends with Jimin. I’m surprised you haven't scooped him up already.” Seungcheol explains. You try not to laugh, and you feel Yoongi stiffen. Out of everyone trying to make it in music, they found Kai. This is the funniest thing you think you may have ever heard.

“The famous model and commercial actor?” You asked with an excited smile on your face.

“Yes, that's the one,” Jeonghan answers. “ We have some great ideas for him, but we would like him attached to the record company first. Then, we can talk…maybe about long-term contracts?”

“Oh, Yoongi, they have such a good eye for talent. Kai is so handsome and talented,” you gush. You feel Yoongi pinch your butt kind of hard. Ow!

“Yes, my love, they indeed do. Why don't you give me a call on Monday?” He ends the conversation by handing them a business card. As they walk away, you wave coyly at them. “You think that's funny?” Yoongi hisses in your ear.

“It's hilarious,” you laugh, and Yoongi takes your hand. He gently pushes you to move forward, and the two of you walk toward the exit of the room. He pulls you down the hallway and into a shallow alcove just tucked on the other side of a statue. Your back hits the wall, and he leans over you. Trapping you in the small space as he places his hands on either side of your head.

“I'm not writing for him. Your boyfriend will have to find another company,” he snarls at you.

“Yes you will,” you say, sliding your hands around the back of his neck. “You will write him a hit song and make him very famous.”

“I’ll write him the worst song I can think of,” he says, bending down and capturing your lips with his. “I'll tank his career.”

His hands are everywhere, and his mouth attaches to your neck. Your head leans back against the upholstered wall. You can feel your hair go staticky Yoongi though, he has no care in the world that you are in public and some important people could catch the two of you. His hands start to creep under your dress, hitching your leg over his hip when someone clears their throat. Whipping around Yoongi hides you behind him. You pull your dress down and pat your hair, trying to smooth the static. You look over his shoulder, and your eyes widen. It's Mingyu…with your sister.

“Sorry,” Mingyu says, blushing. “Umm, I…we were hoping that you would be here Y/N. Your friend Lisa said she saw you come this way.” At least he has the decency to look embarrassed.

“Yeah,...I…i'm…here,” your voice is small, and you think you sound stupid.

“Min Yoongi,” Yoongi says, holding out his hand professionally. Mingyu smiles politely and shakes it. You see Yoongi clench his jaw a little as his eyes fly between Mingyu and your sister.

“Kim Mingyu, it's nice to meet you again,” he says as he introduces himself. Mingyu looks at your sister, and so do you. She looks around at the room, staring at the different paintings on the walls. Basically, she's just trying to keep her eyes off of you and Yoongi. Your eyes sneak a peek at her finger. She still has her engagement ring on.

“What can we do for you?” Yoongi asks stiffly, pulling you into his side. Unconsciously, you let your left hand rest on his chest, and you realize just how tense he was. You see Mingyu nudge your sister, and she sighs.

“The wedding invite we sent you came back,” she said, barely giving you a glance.

“Oh,” you say softly. “Oh, umm, I don't live at my apartment anymore.”

“That's good,” Mingyu says. “It was an honest mistake. We pushed it back to next fall after we had a little…chat.” He gives her another nudge, and she opens her clutch and blindly hands you a wedding invitation.

“We would love it if you could attend,” her voice was robotic, like she practiced that over and over again.

You look at the pretty invite in your hands and then look at Yoongi. He gives you a slight shrug. You know that he will go along with whatever you want to do. Mingyu smiles gently at you. You think that he has good intentions, and honestly, you don't want to ruin this relationship for her. Looking back at her, she's staring hard. Her stare is burning a hole right through the ring on your finger. Mingyu seems to notice as well.

“Oh, what a lovely surprise. When's the special day?” He asks.

“Umm, it just happened today. We really haven't had time to talk about it yet,” you explain. “Thank you for the invitation. It really does mean a lot but…I don't think it's a good idea if I come.” You look at your sister and say her name softly. she looks at you warily. “I'm sorry I couldn't be the sister you wanted but you're my sister and I still love you. Mingyu seems great, and I'm happy for you. I wish you all the best.”

“Thanks,” she whispers. Her eyes look shiny, but she quickly blinks them away, and you wonder if you imagined it.

“Well, it was nice to meet you again,” Yoongi tells Mingyu, shaking his hand again. “We have rounds to make and then home to celebrate.” Yoongi brings your hand to his mouth and kisses it.

“Goodbye,” you tell them and once again walk away with Yoongi's hand wrapped around your own.

The door to the apartment crashes open as you two stumble in lips attached. You almost fall, tripping over your feet. Yoongi is quick to catch you. He pulls his mouth from your own and drops kisses onto your neck.

“Are you sure you want to do this right now?” He asks, worried you might be upset about seeing your sister.

“Please, Yoongi. I want you…more than anything,” you whisper into the dark room.

Reminiscent of that fateful night almost a year ago, Yoongi picks you up, and you wrap yourself around him. Holding on for dear life, as he quickly gets you to the bedroom…your bedroom…the one you share.

Dropping you on the bed, he dives for your neck again as you lie completely back on the bed. You welcome all his kisses and touches that he gives you happily. Wet, open mouth kisses start at your ear and slowly make their way to your chest. Yoongi nips at the exposed skin of your cleavage. His hands take the fabric covering your breasts and tug it down just below your breasts, exposing you to the cool air of the room. You run your fingers through his dark, soft hair and gently pull, earning a groan from his lips. You look at him, and he smirks up at you with a heated gaze. Yoongi sticks his tongue out, and as you watch, he starts to rapidly flick your nipple. You close your eyes and arch your back a little up to him. You are hoping that he will give you more than that.

“Look at me,” he demands softly.

You open your eyes and watch as he takes your peaked nipple between his teeth, giving it a slight tug. You feel that familiar jolt shoot down your body. You try your best to rub your lower half against him to find some sort of friction for relief, but he won't let you have it. He chuckles and moves away just enough that you can't find what you need.

You huff and push him backward. He has to catch himself from falling off the bed, earning a giggle from you. You guide him down to your previous position and straddle his hips. Your hands fly to the buttons on his shirt, undoing them as quickly as you could. Upon finally getting it off, you brace yourself on his chest and press your mouth to his. His hand goes into your hair, holding you to him. Your tongues dance together, breathing each other in. Souls connecting.

Your hips start to move on your own, barely touching the hardness still caged in his pants. Unfortunately, the dress stops you from opening your legs as far as you need to feel him fully, and you let out a frustrated groan. Yoongi's hands fly to your dress and lift it up over your hips, bunching it at your waist. He grabs your waist and presses you down so you can rub against him the way you need.

“You need me that much, huh?” he asked, letting out a breathless chuckle. You nod your head and press kisses to his neck. “I always need you too, baby.”

You sit up on him, trailing your fingers over his exposed chest. Yoongi hands gently rub your legs as he gazes up at you as you smile down at him. You stretch your arm behind you as far as you can to pull the zipper of your dress down. Yoongi reaches up and pulls the front of your dress down completely. Exposing you further to his gaze. Sitting up immediately, he sucks your nipple into his mouth, and his hand massages your other. Your head tilts back as you hold him to your chest. His hands wander around you and travel up and down your naked back before attempting to pull your dress the rest of the way off down your hips. Due to your position, he is unsuccessful in his mission.

“Lie down for me, baby,” he tells you when he pulls away from you.

You bite your bottom lip and do as he asks. You watch Yoongi undo his belt and fling it across the room. You hear it hit something and fall to the floor. His hands make quick work on the rest of his clothes before they tug your dress the rest of the way off. Kissing your calf, he drags his tongue across your leg and up your inner thigh. Lightly, he bites at the sensitive skin, licking the red marks that he leaves behind. Settling down between your open thighs, his fingers toy with the inner hem of your underwear. His dark eyes flicker up to you.

“Tell me what you need, Y/N. I'll give you anything you want,” He slowly moves your underwear to the side, and your eyes never leave his. “The wedding of your dreams.” A slow lick up your dripping pussy. “A home to call our own,” A kiss to your clit. “I'll give you the world if you let me.” His tongue starts drawing lazy circles around you. Your breathing starts to grow heavy and your eyes threaten to close but you don't let them leave him. “What do you want, baby? What do you need?”

“Just you,” you whimper.

Yoongi smiles at you and pulls your panties off. Diving back in between your thighs, his mouth is relentless on you. Tongue flicking back and forth on your clit as his fingers seek entrance into you. Your back arches as he is successful and pumps two fingers in and out of you. Yoongi sucks your clit into his mouth, moaning around you. Your hands fly into his dark hair and hold him to you. You hold the back of his head desperately, trying your damnedest to get him as close as you could. Pulling off you, his fingers still work their magic working your wetness out of you. His mouth attaches to your nipple for a quick second before giving your other breast the same treatment. Grabbing his face you pull him down to your mouth. Lips meeting in a chaotic clash of tongues. A kiss full of want and desire. A kiss of craving. A kiss of pure unadulterated neediness.

“I need you now, Yoongi,” you say quietly against his lips.

He stares at you for a moment while biting his bottom lip. Fingers massaging your innermost spot. Bending down, he kisses your lips once, twice, three more times. Yoongi pulls his fingers out of you, and he reaches down and takes a hold of himself. Tapping the head of his cock against your clit makes your neediness worse. Your hips start squirming trying to get him into you and it only makes him laugh quietly at you.

“You need this, huh?” He asks, sounding just as breathless as you. You nod your head eagerly.

Running the tip along your entrance, coating himself in your wetness, Yoongi starts to slowly roll his hips. Entering you slowly until he is fully inside of you. “I've always thought about you. I had always wondered what happened to you.” His hips start to move at a calm pace. “If you ever found someone who loved you,” you shook your head at him and pulled him down closer to you. He allows you to, and he brings his weight on his forearms. “You didn't ever love anybody else?”

“No, I've loved you since I was seventeen. I've always loved you, ” you tell him honestly.

Yoongi presses a hard kiss against your lips. His hips pick up in pace, fucking you into the matress. You pull away with a gasp, pressing your head back into the pillows. Your hands grab his sides, fingernails slightly digging into his skin. He moans at the feeling and buries his face into your neck. The sound of his hips slapping against our own echo throughout the room, his panting breath in your ear. It feels so overwhelming, loving someone like this, making love like this. Something you could only feel with him.

Yoongi adjusts both of you. He moves to sit on his knees and brings your own to your chest, holding them there. You hear him gasp as he slides in deeper, hitting all the spots that make you see stars. This may not be your favorite position, but the noises he makes are worth it. You'll start stretching every day for those noises. You bring your own arms around the back of your knees, taking over for him. Pulling them back just a little further and closer together.

“Fucking, shit. Do you feel how deep I am?” he moans, leaning back slightly, his thrusts never stopping. The change in angle makes his cock hit your sweet spot over and over again. “Do you need more?” he asks, he sounds like he's struggling himself.

“Yes,” you cry out. Your cries become louder as his fingers rub your clit quickly. The tightening in your stomach winding so tight your body is wanting to get away from it. You feel that familiar heat that starts to take over, your skin getting flushed, heart pounding in your ears. Your core starts to tighten around him.

“There you go,” he hisses. “Let go, baby, let go for me.”

You do. You let go, You finally let go of all the self-consciousness, all the self-doubt. You let go of every insecurity that you have ever felt. There's a high-pitched ringing in your ears. Your body tenses up. You've never felt this pleasure before so deep. So, deep inside of you that you think you might pass out. You feel like you're floating, and you're not coming back down. You think you can hear him reach his end as he swears, but it sounds so far away and muffled. You feel so…high.

“Breathe,” you can hear a voice. “Y/N, baby, breathe,” it's Yoongi. You snap back to reality, spotty vision clears, and your eyes land on him. His dark hair is sweaty and sticking up in all different directions. He looks just as dazed as you feel with his mouth agape. He's breathing hard. He can't look away from you.

“You….came really hard…uh,” he tells you and looks down. You look down as well, and your eyes widen. He is definitely wet as is the bed, and…you don't think it's from him. While it doesn't look like it does in the few adult videos you've seen, you know exactly what happened. Your hand flies to your mouth in shock.

“I'm sorry, that's gross,” you say, turning red. “Eww…I…” Yoongi dives on you, crushing you with a kiss.

“ I can't wait to make you my wife, damn,” he says, going in for more kisses. Pulling you up out of the bed as he flings you over his shoulder. Yoongi gives you a quick slap to your ass laughing. “You better believe that's going to happen more often. Let's shower.”

“Yooonnnngiiiiiii,” you screech happily. Yeah, you finally let go. You're going to give him everything.

A/N: So, now that we have reached the end, I have an announcement. Thanks to the wonderful Anon who asked about drabbles, I had come up with a few ideas about the future of the characters. As of right now…….I'm about 4 loosely written chapters into a SEQUEL!!! However, I'm not super happy with the way it's going so….I think I will take my time and try to rewrite them.

Secondly, I was writing another story before I started the sequel. I have 6 chapters done on that one. I'm thinking I might drop a teaser to the Whispered sequel next week if I can get on a clear path of how I want it to go. So, everyone….stay tuned.

Tagged Reader:

@marimarvelfan, @unicornbabylover,@minghaosimp, @seoullove96, @iheartsvt, @babyitscoldoutside

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