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wildestdreamsblog · 1 year ago

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Might as well be drunk in love: 1 of 3

Pairing: OT7 x Reader (CEO AU)

Summary: In which your friend thought it would be funny to give you a love potion, and in which seven CEOs accidentally drank it.

Warnings: Love Potion, Yandere behavior, Obsessiveness, Possessiveness, Manipulative behavior, Violence, Mention of death, Disability, If you’re not 18+ please, PLEASE, do not interact. Be mindful of the warnings. Let me know if I miss anything.

A/N: This idea came to me when I went to the mountain and saw a love potion wine thingy being sold there. I think it's just the name of the wine, anyway! I really, really tried so hard to finish this in one post but it's already almost 8kish and we aren't even near the end sksks Happy New Year, my loves! I hope you'll like my gift for you <3

“Am I that hopeless?”

“What?” your friend asked in faux innocence, blinking her eyes owlishly at you. “I don’t know what you’re getting at, sweetie-“

You glared at her as you pointed in an exaggerated manner at the expensive pink tumbler she handed you mere seconds ago. The tumbler was too fancy, something that you wouldn’t buy for yourself and something that a certain handsome but infuriating CEO of yours was fond of carrying around.

However, what was insulting was the content of the said tumbler.

“I just gifted you that because you mentioned that it was beautiful-“

“Do you really think I’d end up alone?!”

“I don’t understand-“

“You literally just said that you put the love potion you bought in the mountains here!” you hissed lowly, keeping your eyes around the conference room as your department waited for the seven CEOs to arrive. You attempted to smile which more or less came out as a grimace at one of your colleagues who looked at you weirdly because of your mini-outburst. You weren’t exactly meek in nature, nor were you shy. However, you weren’t really keen on letting anyone overhear that your close friend bought you a love potion just because she thought you would end up alone.

That was embarrassing, even for you. So nope, you would for sure keep this under wraps.

Her brows furrowed harmlessly, although you could see a hint of smile on her lips, “You’re welcome?”

“I’m not thanking you-“

Just then, all the seven CEOs walked in the conference room, their presence commanding and silence reigned through the whole room. The first to enter was Min Yoongi. He was strolling in the room with his hands in his pocket. He was said to be the ace of the group who could smell bullshit despite it being miles away. He honestly looked like he would rather be anywhere else than here right now, though. It was the complete opposite of Jung Hoseok, also known as the sunshine of the group. He was smiling widely as he greeted the department and some employees by their names, yet you weren’t fooled by his beautiful smile. He was the strictest of them all. He was perfectionist down to the core and he was the last to forgive any mistake. The last of the hyung line to enter was the Kim Seokjin, the most beautiful man you have ever seen. It was like the room literally lightened up when he stepped in, like the birds sang melodically the moment he opened his eyes. His tall form and his movement were precise as he confidently sauntered to his seat which just so happened to be beside yours. He placed his pink tumbler on the table, so eerily similar to yours sans the engraved of his name on his tumbler. The beautiful asshole didn’t even spare you a glance. Your back unconsciously straightened when the lead CEO, Kim Namjoon, locked eyes with you for a moment when he entered the room. He was said to be one of the most intelligent man in the whole country. You didn’t even doubt it one bit. He was capable, and his leadership was on another level. Should he decide to run for a political seat, you would undoubtedly vote for him. He had what it took, you thought. He was charismatic, calm and he knew when to listen.

The CEOs were dubbed by the employees to be divided by two: the Maknae and the Hyung line.

Finally, the maknae line entered. The three of them could always be found together. Park Jimin, the eldest of the line, who had one of the most beautiful smiles you ever saw. In fact, you once overheard your colleague that he interacted with her once and it left her thinking of what they really were. He was followed by Kim Taehyung and also labelled as his soulmate. He was expressionless as he entered, only cracking a smile when he turned to Jimin. You always thought that he could be a model or an actor if he wanted to. He definitely had the looks for it. Last to enter was the muscular Jeon Jungkook, also known as the golden maknae of the group. There were no contracts, mergers or acquisitions that he couldn’t convince the other party of signing. Not only was he capable of everything, but he excelled in everything. Thus, his nickname. However, despite the way he held himself during the negotiations, you observed him to be shy and highly reserved. All of a sudden, he looked up from his seat as though he could feel your eyes on him, his doe eyes curious as he took you in. He held your eyes for a moment until he blinked owlishly and looked down at his hands in curiosity.

Kim Namjoon sat in the middle, the others sitting beside him as they regarded the room with a powerful look.

“Shall we begin?” Kim Seokjin asked, his eyes focused on the slides reflecting in the projector.

Several headaches, passive aggressiveness from Namjoon, Hoseok and Jimin, disappointed sighs from Jin and Yoongi, difficult revisions ‘suggested’ by Taehyung, and corrections of miniscule errors of calculations by Jungkook later, the meeting finally ended.

You were weary as you trudged out of the conference room the CEOs were still in. They dismissed the department, expecting revisions within the day after tomorrow before discussing among themselves. It was honestly not a lot of time and you could already feel the lack of sleep you and the department would further experience under their tyranny. You willed yourself not to fall asleep as you walked to your desk, your close friend who was equally tired as you sat down on her seat beside your desk.

“I’m so tired. It’s like my soul and all the happiness I was able to experience in my young life were sucked out of me,” she lamented, her head resting on her desk. “If only the pay isn’t so greaaaat. ”

You nodded at what she said, already likening the CEOs to dementors in Harry Potter. Interacting with them made you aged several years. Additionally, meetings with them made you reconsider whether you needed a roof over your head, whether you needed to eat at least twice a day, whether you needed to drink clean water-

Speaking of…this wasn’t your tumbler.

The horrifying realization made you stood up abruptly. You lifted the pink tumbler to your widening eyes, and by that name there was no denying that this wasn’t yours. Your sudden movement awoke your friend from her own misery, yet you didn’t have the time to explain. Without any further thought, you ran back to the conference room, screaming and crying about how you were definitely going to get fired.

Of course, the elevator was under maintenance.

Of course, you had to run numerous flights of stairs.

Of course, it was just your luck that you ran into your manager just when you reached their floor.

And of course, the moment you opened the door, there they were, innocently drinking from a glass, the tumbler emptied as it sat in the middle of the table.

“Don’t drink that!”

Taehyung was the first to turn to you, his dark expressionless eyes meeting yours with intense stubbornness. He kept his eyes on yours as gulped the contents wholeheartedly.

Oh heavens, no.

He put the glass down with a resounding thud which felt like a nail to your coffin. You turned to look at the other CEOs with shaky eyes and it was apparent that they definitely drank their fair share of whatever was in the tumbler. You, on the other hand, weren’t sure if it was really safe for consumption. You were going to kill your friend for her prank!

Their eyes were focused on you. You couldn’t even blame them. You shouted at them all while looking like a lunatic with your disheveled hair and huffing breaths like you did a marathon. Oh wait, yes you probably did by the amount of running you did today. They were probably thinking that you were mentally unfit for this job and oh my God you were going to lose your job.

“May we help you, Ms. Y/N?” Hoseok asked you politely, his eyes never wavering from yours which was…unusual. Despite him being the image of kindness and approachability, he never looked at his employees for longer than necessary. He was a man that possessed such discipline when it came to his time. This… was absolutely an unnecessary length of time for eye contact.

“T-that’s my drink,” you finally said after tearing your eyes from Hoseok’s. You pointedly looked at the empty pink tumbler, not minding the intense look Namjoon was giving you.

“We apologize, little one,” Namjoon broke the silence, his deep voice awakening you from your stupor. “Yours looked like hyung’s.”

Little one???

Jimin smirked before running his hand through his blonde locks. His eyes were on yours as he looked up at you. “Yours undeniably taste better, though.”

Before you could even blink, Yoongi pointed at you with a rare smile on his lips. “You looked thirsty. Would you like to go to my office and drink with me?”

Was that…an invitation?!

You felt a hand tugged your sleeve. You turned, only to find beautiful doe eyes looking up at you from his seated form. “Hi! What year were you born?”

“199x-,“ you answered absentmindedly, you eyes roaming around the room when he tugged your sleeve again for your attention.

“You’re older than me!” he gasped; his excitement palpable as he stood up. He towered over you, his grin pleasant and you thought at that moment that he looked a lot like a bunny, or a kangaroo with the way his chest muscles were bulging over his office clothes. “Then you’re my noona! I can call you ‘noona’, right? Come on, take a seat here!”

He pulled the chair closer and tapped on it eagerly.

This was wrong, you thought. Was that thing really effective?! You dreaded to think that it was and you had a certain someone to torture once you get out of this room.

You were shaking your head before he could even pull you and you watched as his expression fell. Suddenly, he looked like a child that lost his toy with the way he was pouting. And nope, you couldn’t deal with that today. You looked at the man who hadn’t spoken one bit before smiling sheepishly at him. You placed his pink tumbler in front of him.

“I apologize. I must have switched yours with mine-“

His jaw tightened as he leaned in. Heavens, he was even more handsome this close. Kim Seokjin looked up at you with his ethereal eyes before resting his chin on his hand. “I’ve been drinking yours since the meeting, my love. It’s absolutely not your fault. Mine was coffee. This-“ he lifted the empty tumbler, “-is, I presume, a juice.”

Confusion further painted on your face, “You knew? Then why did you keep on drinking-“

He shrugged his broad shoulders, “It’s…addicting.”

“O-okay, then I’ll just leave yours here-“

“Tell me, my love. Do you like your job?”

Welp, here it was. You were so going to get fired. Oh my God, how were you going to feed your cat? He had such an expensive taste!

“I-“

“Because there’s an opening in my office. Would you like to be my secretary-“

“But hyung, you already have one-“

“Shut up, Taehyung,” he hissed at the now pouting man before turning to smile at you as though he didn’t berate his co-CEO in front of you. Chaos ensued as the boys fought and bickered for who would be your direct boss as you inched closer to the door.

“I’m just gonna go,” you whispered and before you could even reach the door, Taehyung looked up at you with his sharp eyes.

“Where are you going!”

“I-I have to finish the report this week, right?”

Namjoon stood up before declaring that he would finish it for you. And when you shook your head, “I am officially moving the deadline to next month! No need to stress, my little love!”

You blinked owlishly before doing what was best for you and your sanity- you ran away.

“So, they drank it?”

“Are you even listening to me?!” you shrieked over the phone, walking back in forth in front of your cat that was now looking at you as though he wanted to be adopted by a sane person and not you. “I just told you. They all drank it. All seven of them!”

You could hear the laughter in her voice which was not helping your panic, “I thought you didn’t believe love potions?”

“I-I didn’t! You didn’t see how they were acting! It was so peculiar!”

“Well, honey, how did they act?”

“Kindly! And it’s so weird!”

She paused, her silence making your heart beat faster. “Holy shit. It’s definitely effective. I need to go back there and buy another one for myself-“

“Focus! Is there an antidote or anything?”

“I’m not sure. I’ll have to ask my grandmother that lives there. I’ll let you know, but for the meantime, hold on very tight, okay?”

“What do you mean?!”

“Uhm. She said it’s very potent? I thought she was kidding. We’ll observe them tomorrow, okay? I’ll fix this.“

You were only able to sleep for two hours last night for two reasons: your work that you accomplished at eleven in the evening, leaving you six ample hours to sleep, and second, them.

Your phone didn’t stop ringing last night. You didn’t know how they obtained your number, and you dreaded to think that they used their position to direct the Human Resources department to give your personal number (yup, they definitely did).

You were about to fall asleep when your phone wouldn’t stop, and when you opened your eyes, you wished to all that was holy that you threw away the tumbler as soon as she handed it to you. Or that you didn’t choose the sit next to Seokjin.

You wished to God that your phone wasn’t blowing up now, but it certainly was.

Kookie: Hi, noona! Welcome to the Bangtan groupchat!

You squinted your eyes as the glaring screen illuminated with several messages from them.

Jwehope: Darling, are you a sprite? Because you've got the right amount of fizz to make my heart pop!

Jiminie: That’s so corny. I, for one, think that little one is a magician.

Jiminie: Because everytime I look at her, everyone just disappears.

V: Do you want to disappear, Jimin? Because I can arrange that.

Joonie: Ms. Y/N-shi, do you have a moment? I asked because I would like to discuss something.

At that, your trepidation grew. Among five, the lead CEO definitely held a serious tone. Did they find it as weird as you did that they were paying you attention? Did they trace it to that drink? Were you now in an even bigger mess than you initially thought?

You replied tensely: Yes, I am available, Kim Daepyonim.

WWH Jin: Why are you still awake? Beauty sleep is essential, my love!

Joonie: Great! I’d like to discuss the exponential growth of my feelings for you.

What.

The.

Fuck.

Suga: You’re all so hopeless. My Y/N would never fall for that.

Suga: On the other hand, would you like some Samsung stocks?

And that was why you never got to sleep peacefully last night. You sighed as you got on the bus. You opted to leave at an earlier hour because you wanted some time to think without the noise of the world and the buzzling movement of people commuting. You could feel a headache coming, but you prayed that it wouldn’t come through.

You should have known your prayers were seldom heard.

A vacant seat on the backside of the bus greeted you, and you were only too elated to finally sit throughout your commute. Peace, finally, you thought. You had barely settled in, barely breathed a sigh of relief when the once empty chair beside you was filled in by none other than him

“Fancy running to you here!” Taehyung noted in a deep voice as though this was not part of his plan, as though he didn’t wake up at a godforsaken hour just to ‘run’ to you.

You blinked, astonished by his presence. This was the last place you expected him to be. Hell, you didn’t even sure he ever experienced riding a bus! What the fuck was he doing here? Where was now your peace?!

“You-You’re here…” you trailed off, your eyes widening in shock as your brows furrowed in disbelief. You had foolishly thought that maybe, once they slept it off, then it would slowly be flushed out of their system. Oh, how wrong could you be. “Why?”

Taehyung smirked at you, his dark eyes taking you in. His dark hair was gelled up, his suit impeccable and without any crease in sight. He was somehow manspreading and you weren’t stoic enough not to notice the way his thick thigh was touching the side of yours. “I wanted to see you.”

“You’re so…honest.”

He didn’t even look embarrassed by his honesty. It didn’t displace him; what did was the annoying pain in his heart as the hours passed by and you weren’t in his arms nor his sight. He hated it. It felt wrong!

The other boys weren’t fairing any better but oh well, to each of his own. He may or may have also drained their cars of gas so they couldn’t leave. He thought that no one needed you as much as he did.

“I surmised that you wouldn’t believe if I say I frequent this path just for the hell of it, correct?”

You nodded dumbfoundedly as speech eluded you. His candor was definitely out of this world, and he seemed to not care as he only stared right at you.

“Now,” he whispered before tucking your hair behind your ear. “Now I feel at peace. The annoying pain finally stops.”

What pain?!

Before you could even ask him to elaborate, his head leaned on your shoulder.

“Daepyonim Kim-“

“Just stay like this for a while. I didn’t get to sleep, my love,” he answered in his hoarse voice, his eyes already closed as he dozed off. You didn’t know why you let him. It absolutely was not due to the fact that you felt your heart skipped a beat when he laid his head on your shoulder. Nope.

You managed to run away from Taehyung once the two of you arrived at the company, simply by practicing your non-existent ninja moves and awkwardly slipping out of the elevator just as the doors closed, his face an image of betrayal and panic. You breathed a sigh of relief before running out of the building. You still had an hour before you were needed, you for sure wouldn’t spend it inside that establishment or you would end up crying.

You were focused on your phone as you read real life stories of love potions. The sharing of stories kept on increasingly became more serious and scarier. You had yet to find a post about antidote. You weren’t 100% set on it being real, but the way Taehyung acted today was not right.

For heaven’s sake, the man barely said any word to you for the whole year you worked in their company. He had only looked at you before, and now he was outright going to you. But maybe, the other CEOs weren’t affected?

It was a hopeful thought, and you felt yourself smile a little- which of course vanished just as quickly when you looked up from your seat in the coffee shop to see Park Jimin sitting in front of you. You didn’t even know how he moved so smoothly and quietly. He was smiling at you, his head tilted to the side. His blonde hair stood out as the sunlight hit his hair perfectly.

“Good morning, beautiful!”

“Daepyonim Park,” you gasped both at shock and well, his beauty. His smile turned wider before he tried to hide it as he sipped from his coffee cup.

“Just Jimin, little one. I presume Taehyung- the bastard who will soon be six feet underground for what he did, by the way- already went to see you?”

You nodded, “He did…”

He scrunched his nose before resting his chin on his hand as he leaned into you. His pouty lips were protruding even more as he looked over his long lashes to you. My God, this man was so charming and his movements seemed so sensual. You didn’t know what it was about him, but you finally, finally understood your coworker who had a major crush on him for years based on one interaction.

“He’s so bad, my love. Did he tell you that he drained all our cars’ gas tank at two in the morning?” he asked in a conversational manner as though it didn’t faze him. His other hand reached to yours, slowly entangling them together and giggling a little at the slight size difference. He found them perfect and cute.

God, you were so endearing, he thought to himself.

“He did what?!”

He nodded slightly, holding your hand up to inspect further before quietly taking a picture of your clasped hands. You were so out of it that you just let it be.

“What Taehyung failed to account for was the existence of taxis. He only managed to anger six men, so good luck to him today. But enough about him,” he stated before looking into your eyes. Being the sole focus of Jimin was just too much, you thought. He was bigger than life, and his inherent appeal was palpable that even girls around the coffee shop kept on stealing glances on him. “I miss you so much today that my heart and head hurt so much, yeobo. I thought that I was going to die if I don’t see you.”

Your brows furrowed in concern before pulling your hand from him and you could have sworn you heard him whimpered. You laid the back of your hand on his forehead, trying to see whether he had fever today. He felt fine, you concluded, as you looked closer to see if he looked sick.

Maybe the ‘love potion’ caused these symptoms? Taehyung did mention experiencing pain.

You managed to escape from Park Jimin when he insisted on buying you pastries, and you in turn ran to the exit like your life depended on it. And perhaps, it did because you were running late. You only had fifteen minutes and the coffee shop you went to was not fifteen-minute away from the office. You were running like a lunatic, waving at the taxi that finally took pity on you. You were about to open the door when a large and tattooed hand slammed it shut.

You looked up in anger, ready to berate the man who did such a rude gesture when you recognized who it was.

Right then and there, and despite it being barely eight in the morning, you already met the entirety of maknae line. Jeon Jungkook looked like a badass with his all-black getup, his hands wrapped in motorcycle gloves, and his hair carelessly falling around his face. Despite all that, he looked innocent with the way he grinned at you, his nose all scrunched up when he greeted you.

“I’ll give you a ride, noona. Come on,” he stated as he gestured at the black motorcycle haphazardly parked on the side. You had never ridden one, and you didn’t want to start now. On the other hand, the taxi was already driving away and you could only look at it with longing.

You decided that you could afford being late just this once instead of riding with him. You were shaking your head.

“But you’re going to be late. I’m going there, too, so it’s no bother if that’s what you’re thinking-“

“No it’s just… I like to walk during the mornings…really.”

He frowned at you as he removed his gloves, “Didn’t you read the memo about tardiness, Y/N?”

“What memo?”

He was typing rapidly on his phone, “About how there would be 50% deduction of the salary should there be any tardiness this month…didn’t you know?” he asked innocently as he finished typing, his doe eyes trained on yours. Coincidentally, the moment he pocketed his phone was the moment your phone dinged.

“I don’t think that’s legal, though. I haven’t received the memo-“

You looked down at your phone, and there it was, an email about that. How could it only reach you now?!

You looked up in panic, and he looked at you with a hint of satisfaction before covering it with an innocent smile. “Shall we? I promise I don’t bite.” Yet.

He drove like a lunatic and you thought that you would really rather be late than experience a thrill such as this. Of course, it was only natural that you didn’t want to put your arms around him. You technically didn’t know him at a personal level and Jungkook did know that.

So, of course, like the intelligent man that he was, he only did the thing that made sense. He sped up, and he chuckled as your adorable screams reached his ears. Your equally lovely arms were now wrapped around him as they should always be and for once since yesterday, the ache in his heart eased. He felt at peace.

He giggled when you finally realized that this was not the path to the office, but in his mind, his other hyungs already got to spend time with you. Shouldn’t he too?

Jungkook helped you get off his bike, his eyes closely watching your expressions as you took the scenery around you. It was quiet despite the busy world below. The overlooking garden he brought you to was enchanting and it remained untouched by the quick-pacing world below. Jungkook couldn’t help but mirror your smile.

“It’s even more beautiful at night, noona. I come here when things get quite overwhelming.”

You turned to him as the two of you sat down. He had laid his leather jacket for you to sat on, a true gentleman you would think if only you weren’t aware that he drank the potion. “The golden maknae gets overwhelmed, too?”

He scrunched his nose at you before softly pinching your nose, “Of course, I do. I’m only human. I was trained when I was only thirteen…it gets too much sometimes. But it’s okay. I like it, and I like the hyungs, too. That’s why I cannot get mad at Tae.”

“He didn’t just empty the gas tank, but he also hid the keys. For added measure, he deflated my tire. He only did that to me. Should I be mad, little one?” he asked with the perpetual charming and shy smile on his face. “Ahh, but I cannot stay mad at him. I do understand him.”

“You do?”

He nodded eagerly, “I would have done the same thing if only he didn’t do it first. You do make us crazy, little one. Why is that?”

It was an eventful morning, and you weren’t foolish enough to think that the rest of your day would be any different. You friend was still yet to be found as she was preoccupied with researching for further information about that potion, which she should have done before giving it to you!

You sighed for the million time as you stared at your food. You were sitting alone in the company’s cafeteria as you were eating your late lunch. The workload was just too much today despite Kim Namjoon’s departmentwide directive that the revision would be presented the following month. Your superiors did find it peculiar and thought that the head CEO was simply playing with them and that he would cruelly demand the output the next day. See, even his reputation preceded him, you thought. It wasn’t in his nature to be lenient when it came to deadlines.

The sudden gentle thud of food a lunch box made you jumped from your seat, your eyes widening as you saw that it was none other than the eldest of the CEOs, Kim Seokjin. Disbelief held you captive. It was an unexpected sight – the CEO, whose tailored suits and polished demeanor spoke of boardroom authority, now standing before you with a container of something that smelled absolutely delicious.

He smiled at you as he took the empty seat in front of you. He busied himself with laying and opening the numerous food containers in front of you. Your eyes widened at all the homecooked meals in front of you.

“I got up at four in the morning to prepare all these. I still don’t know what your favorites are, but we’ll figure it out as we go, right?” he asked, busying himself with putting food on your plate. “Always eat on time, little one. It’s bad to skip meals.”

“W-why did you cook all these?”

He blinked owlishly at your question; surprise written on his face. “Well, my love, I couldn’t sleep and I felt this stabbing pain by the mere thought that you weren’t eating enough.”

“You don’t have to do that-“

“So from now on, I decided that I’ll always cook for you,” he declared strongly before lifting his chopsticks with vegetables to your mouth. Suddenly, you felt eyes on you.

How could you forget that you were in the company?! Your head turned, looking at the employees who were all watching your interaction with the unobtainable CEO. They were whispering and you knew by the end of the hour, everyone in the company would know of this. How could you live once they had the antidote? You could already hear the rumors about how you were just for their entertainment once they tossed you aside.

You were about to stand up when Seokjin gently gripped your chin. He turned you to him, his beautiful eyes willing you to listen to him. “Don’t mind them, little love. Pay attention to me only. Nothing and no one matter outside us, okay?”

It wasn’t okay because none of this was real. On the other hand, the meal tasted heavenly…

---

If they weren’t going to get sick, you definitely would. You felt like you would collapse any moment.

The amount of stress was taking a toll on you. You felt like you needed to be on your guard, lest another CEO would ambush you. You were just human! And they all looked like they stepped out of a photoshoot, or that they were ethereal beings that decided to go down on the mortal realms. The way they were showering you with attention and declaring their attraction to you and the way they said that not being with you felt like a stabbing pain in their hearts were all getting to you, damn it!

You were just a girl.

And once this all ended, you were dreading to think of what would be left of you now that you saw them on a closer and more personal level. You wanted to think that this couldn’t get any worse, but it did as you read the most elusive of the CEOs’ email to you.

Hi, my little one,

I hope this email finds you well. I am writing to request your presence at a meeting in my office to discuss my growing feelings for you today at 2:00 pm. Your insights and expertise on this matter would be highly valuable to the discussion, and I believe your input will contribute significantly to our objectives of being together forever and ever.

Thank you in advance for your cooperation, and I look forward to our discussion.

Best regards,

CEO Min Yoongi

He had this faraway look on his face when you were led by his secretary in his office. His hands were in his pocket as he looked at the bustling city from his floor to ceiling window. His black long hair was sleeked back, revealing his stoic face. The dark suit he was wearing did nothing but compliment his form. You had never noticed how broad his shoulders were until now.

He looked like he was not paying attention, yet he turned around the moment that the door closed behind you. Min Yoongi looked at you for a moment too long that you started to shift uncomfortably. His attention was just too much, and you couldn’t act like you were no longer affected by any of it.

And from the looks of it, the moment you blushed was the exact moment his face softened. He gestured for you to take the seat in front of his desk. He mirrored your movement, now sitting on his expensive swivel chair. He clasped his hands and rested them on the mahogany table.

“Daepyonim Min-“

He held his finger up, asking for your silence before spilling what you thought to be both outrageous and the most beautiful and heartfelt thing anyone had ever said to you in this life. “You’re beautiful, and not just in the way that you look. No. You’re beautiful in the way that the sun finally shines after a month of storms; you’re beautiful in the way that the waves keep on going back to the shore even after they were pushed away in the desire to kiss the sand; you’re beautiful in the way that flowers bloom after the unforgiving winter coldness. And that is why I’m giving you Samsung stocks.”

Confusion settled over you like a fog. You had almost melted from what felt like a poetry when he once again brought up his stocks idea from last night.

“I-I really don’t need Samsung stocks, Daepyonim Min…”

He looked aghast at your statement, before reaching over the table and holding your hand in his particularly large ones. “Call me Yoongi, my love. Or better yet, call me your other half,” he implored you and he only let go when you nodded in confusion.

“Also, nonsense! Everyone needs that stock, little one. Besides, nothing speaks more about my love for you than giving you all my Samsung stocks. And above and beyond, it filled me with this immense pain knowing that you’re just out there not owning any of their stocks. I couldn’t breathe with the mere thought of you going without.”

“Excuse me?”

And with a stoic face, he said, “Congratulations, little one. You’re now a millionaire."

At six in the evening, the head CEO finally made an appearance. You did find it peculiar that you had a fairly quiet afternoon after meeting with Yoongi. Your brows were pinched together as you were lost in thought when the elevator opened, revealing the head CEO. He had yet to notice you, his large and imposing form leaning against the side of the elevator. His eyes were close. You noticed that his white sleeves were already folded, his tie already loosened as his black suit laid on his thick forearms.

Kim Namjoon was the image of weariness, and you thought he looked quite pale. Your growing concern for him was what made you stepped inside the lift rather than running away yet again. The sound of your heels as you stepped in was the only sound in the elevator. You pressed for the ground floor and you saw that the floor for basement three was already pressed. Perhaps, the head CEO was going home now. Now that you were standing almost next to him, you only further affirmed how small you were next to him. He was already larger than life, and the way he always held himself exuded confidence made him more striking…and manly in your eyes.

The ride was fairly quiet, and through it all, he had his eyes closed. You kept on stealing glances, thinking that maybe among the other CEOs, he took in the least amount of potion. You felt lighter with that thought. At least you only had five men you needed to find the antidote for. Come to think of it, you hadn’t seen the sunshine of the group, Jung Hoseok yet.

The elevator dinged, signifying your floor. You had taken merely a step when you felt a large hand completely encircling your wrist, effectively stopping you from leaving. You automatically turned, startled to find him with his eyes trained on you. He looked way too alert for someone who had his eyes closed for the past minute. You gasped when he pulled you closer to him as he pressed the close button.

“Daepyonim Kim,” you called him as you craned your neck to look at his draconic eyes.

“Leaving so soon?" he asked, his deep voice carrying a subtle mix of amusement and curiosity.

You hesitated, the words tumbling out of your mouth as he caught you off guard. “I... uh, yes. I was heading to the lobby. I’m about to leave for the night," you stammered, attempting to regain composure.

A playful smile curved his lips as he completely blocked the exit. leaned against the elevator frame, effectively blocking your exit, which sounded successful as the door closed. “I missed you,” he breathed as he took you in, his thumb gently running over the inside of your wrist as though touching you brought him immense comfort. “A lot. It was hell without seeing you the whole day.”

You blinked owlishly and you wanted nothing but to hide your face from the intensity of his gaze, but he wouldn’t let you. Instead, he smiled so gently at you, the dents on his cheeks making an appearance which made him more charismatic that you couldn’t say no when he told you that he would take you home.

But he didn’t exactly say which home because you ended up in what turned out to be the CEOs’ huge ass mansion. Your eyes roamed around the mansion, the high ceilings and the fancy marble flooring all screamed wealth that you didn’t even dare of dreaming to have. He confidently led you to what appeared to be a grand dining room. The room bathed in the soft, flickering glow of candlelight, casting a warm and intimate ambiance. The delicate flames danced gracefully, creating patterns of light and shadow that played across the table. The air carried the subtle fragrance of the candles, a mix of vanilla and subtle hints of lavender.

The dining table was adorned with crisp, white linen, and the flickering candles were nestled in elegant holders, their glow reflecting off polished silverware and crystal glasses. Each flame seemed to dance in harmony with the gentle melody playing in the background, creating a soothing symphony that enveloped the space.

He pulled a chair for you, and instead of sitting across from you, he sat beside you. He chuckled lowly when he caught your questioning eyes, “I have been apart from you for so long today, little one. I need this to feel alive.”

You straightened up in vigilance that the other CEOs would show up. “Are the others here, too?”

He looked at you like you said something funny. The chef he hired today gently laid all the dishes he made, explaining about each dish before wishing the two of you an enjoyable night. Namjoon told you that he wouldn’t feed you any of the food he made unless he enrolled himself in a culinary school first, hence the chef. He waited for the chef to leave before turning his full attention to you.

“I shipped them off to Antartica.”

“You what?!”

“I simply said we were flying to Japan for a quick meeting. They believed. I lied. End of. So anyway, how many children do you think we should have?”

My God, you wanted so bad to lay on your bed and sleep the whole night. You though about filing for sick leave tomorrow, you were long overdue for a leave, anyway. Kim Namjoon was kind enough to drop you off. However, it was only after you promised him that you would talk about possible schools for your future children that he let you go.

On the other hand, your friend finally called and you were sorely disappointed to know more about what she gathered today. Her grandmother had to ask the other folks that lived in the mountain about your situation and it somehow appalled you that you weren’t the first to experience this.

It was, at the same time, sad to see people resort to this from loneliness.

Was an artificial, forced love and companionship better than being alone?

There were both an instant and quite a long-term effect of the potion, she said. The instant was mostly upon ingesting the liquid. Once they locked eyes with the owner of the potion which so happened to be you since she technically gifted it to you, then the immense attraction would start. You thought that this explained why the seven of them all acted that way in the conference room.

The long-term effects were what caused you to groan all the way up to your apartment. And right then and there, you saw what the long-term effects were. As you trudged up to your apartment, you felt the exhaustion to your very bones. You were looking forward to a hot shower in an effort to wash away the problems that stemmed from a simple prank when you saw who was leaning against your front door.

The last of the CEO, Jung Hoseok, was leaning against the door, his head bowed down as he clutched his heart. He looked like he was in unfathomable pain, his lips almost the shade of white. And your friend’s words echoed in your mind.

‘Prolonged non-contact with the object of their desires will cause them to be physically ill.’

You hurried up to him, holding his shoulders as you looked at him. You were crouched down in front of him, peeking up at his pained face.

“S-sir, are you okay?”

His chest tightened, his face contorted, a mask of agony etched with lines of distress. Beads of sweat formed on his forehead, evidence of the intense effort to draw in even the smallest amount of air. The hallway fell silent, save for the raspy, labored breaths that escaped him.

‘They may try to fight the unexplainable feelings they have, and this will only cause them harm. In fact, if they go without you for a long period of time, their body will suffer for a long time.’

“Hoseok? Can you hear me? I’ll call for help, okay?” you tried to make yourself sound calm for his sake, but seeing him struggling, desperate to gasp for air was making you panic. Your negligence did this, you thought. You should have made sure that you were holding the right tumbler that day.

You were about to turn to call for help when you felt a hand pulled you closer, and before you knew it, he had his arms around you. He was still breathing hard, but you noticed that the shallow breathings were farther and apart as though he could finally breath. The moment you touched him, the moment you looked into his eyes was the exact moment that a wave of relief swept over him as the oppressive grip on his chest began to loosen. The moment that you called his name was the moment that the torment that had shackled his every breath gradually lifted, replaced by the sweet release of a deep, calming respiration.

“Don’t leave me.”

‘However, every interaction with you would only make their attraction grow further.’

You placed a glass of water in front of the man who now looked perfectly fine as though he wasn’t fighting for his very life outside your apartment. He was offering you reassuring smiles as he gently watched you. He was surrounded by sacks of expensive cat food, toys, and vitamins. And of course, your cat was only too happy with them, evident by the excessive purring he was emitting as he climbed on the CEO’s lap.

“I did hear that you have an adorable son int the form of a cat,” he started as he petted your spoiled cat. “As his future daddy, I would like to provide for him as early as now.”

You didn’t pay attention to whatever he was saying, and instead, you sat next to him to see if he was really fine. The paleness was now exchanged by a healthy look on skin. It was as though that didn’t happen.

“Hoseok, listen…the reason that you are all acting this way to me, the girl you didn’t even notice before this, was because-“

“Because of that drink, right?” he interrupted you, wearing a soft smile that conveyed he harbored no anger.

“Y-you know…”

He nodded before tilting his head, “I do. It’s weird, as you said. The thing is, all of us suspects the same thing. You, little one, only confirmed it.”

“I didn’t mean for any of these to happen-“

The soft look he had was now dropped, revealing the strict CEO that everyone knew him to be. “Regardless, little one. You need to take responsibility over your actions.”

“H-how?”

“You’re going to live with us until all of this fades. You’re going to take responsibility over us, my love.”

Part 2 sneakpeak, Part 2, Part 3 sneakpeak, Part 3

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livingformintyoongi · 8 months ago

Note

yoongi fucking his girlfriend raw for the first time and her telling him to cum inside because she wants his babies

First time

a/n: as the request did not have many specifications I went straight to the point, hope you don't mind 😣. warnings: Breeding kink, a little bit soft, in fact there are not many warnings, it is quite soft. wc: 1.1k taglist: @thunderg @minjianhyung @queenv1997 @yoongtism @lizzymizzy-blogg @zent9 @superbbananananana

"Shit" you moaned, squirming on your sheets as you felt Yoongi's fingers touch the exact spot that made the knot in your belly get tighter and tighter, although, come to think of it, it could also be due to Yoongi's tongue teasing your clit.

"I haven't done this in a long time" he whispered, straightening up as he pulled his fingers from inside you and licked them. During all that time he didn't take his eyes off you and your body. "Do you think you're lubed up enough to get my cock in?".

"Yes" you sighed, resting a hand on your chest in an attempt to calm your heartbeat. It wasn't very helpful, but at least you tried. You turned your head toward your nightstand, reaching your shaking arm toward the drawer to pull out a condom. You frowned as you felt Yoongi's hand stop you quickly, "What's wrong?" you turned to look at him, returning your arm to its place.

"It's just..." he scratched the back of his neck, grimacing with his mouth. His cheeks were barely tinged with a pastel pink color you'd seen once or twice when he felt too embarrassed, "could we, you know, do it without a condom? Only if you want to" he hastened to clarify, avoiding looking you in the eye.

"It's okay" you cupped his cheeks, caressing them gently, "we've been together for years, and I doubt that with one time anything will happen" you smiled at him as reassuringly as you could, hoping you could convey that feeling to him.

"God, I love you so much," he settled between your legs, moving down until he was face to face with you, "I don't think you can imagine how much I do," he kissed your jaw, leaving a trail of kisses running all the way from where he started to your bra.

"Then show me how much you love me" you whispered in his ear, hugging his neck and pulling him even closer to you. You shivered slightly as you felt his breath collide against your chest.

"Oh believe me, I will" he laughed softly, gently pushing the tip of his cock inside you. You both moaned before the skin to skin contact. It was your first time doing this, and although it felt strange, it was a sensation you definitely wouldn't regret feeling. "How is it possible that after all these years you're still so tight?" he growled over your collarbones, leaving a mark right in the center.

"Don't ask, just enjoy it" You tried to laugh, but were quickly interrupted by a lunge from Yoongi.

If there was one thing that characterized Yoongi in sex, it was that he would never start soft and gentle. He liked to go straight to his climax point, feel as much as possible in the shortest time and repeat it over and over again until he was satisfied. That was your Yoongi.

"Feels good" he murmured against your skin, pounding your pussy hard. A shit-eating grin appeared on his face as he heard you moan loudly the moment the tip of his cock hit your G-spot. He loved how you reacted every time he found that sensitive spot.

"Fuck" you brought your hands to his hair, pulling on it to keep yourself grounded. You let your head fall back, giving Yoongi the opportunity to lick, bite and mark your neck as he pleased.

Yoongi moaned as he felt your walls clench around him tightly, clinging to your hips as if his life depended on it. It would probably leave marks, but he didn't care right now, neither you nor him.

"I love the feel of you squeezing my cock," he said as he closed his eyes and concentrated on increasing the speed of your onslaught. His hand gently caressed the marks he had left on your neck, causing a soft sigh to escape your lips.

"More" you moaned, moving your hands down from his hair to his shoulders, burying your deep red nails into his skin.

"More?" he teased back, taking one of your legs and pulling it up his shoulder. You moaned loudly as you felt his cock go even deeper than it was before. "Shit, Y/N, you're so sensitive" he laughed, moving his hand down to your womanhood to take your clit between his fingers and play with it as he pleased.

You hunched your back to him, closing your eyes tightly. The knot in your stomach was becoming more and more unbearable and you weren't sure how much longer you could continue. "Yoonie" you whimpered between moans, looking up at him with misty eyes and dilated pupils.

"It's okay, it's okay, I've got you" he bent down a little, just enough to kiss your cheek, "do it as soon as you're ready."

You nodded awkwardly, starting to move your hips against his so you could get your long desired release. The moment you came your whole body trembled from the spasms, and you almost melted as you felt Yoongi embrace you as carefully as possible with the intention of regulating your body's movement.

"That's it, fuck, you're squeezing me so good" Yoongi closed his eyes, concentrating on how good your tight, wet pussy felt. He was so immersed in the sensation that he almost forgot he wasn't wearing a condom. "Shit" he whispered, trying to get out of your pussy as quickly as possible. He moaned in surprise as he felt you imprison his hips with your legs. You still looked a little tired from your recent orgasm, but apparently you were determined not to let it out. "Honey, I'm going to come soon, I need-".

"Cum inside" you whispered, moving your hips against his, "I want you to come inside, I want to have your baby."

And that broke Yoongi for a few seconds. Only for a few seconds, because almost instantly he reacted and brought his mouth to yours in search of a desperate kiss. You gasped as you felt Yoongi's thrusts get deeper and stronger, and only moments later, you felt his cum spill inside you as you swallowed your boyfriend's moans with the kiss.

You both fell silent after finishing. You kept your eyes closed and your hand in his hair, he, for his part, had his head resting on your chest, caressing your waist with his fingertips. "Y/N?"

"Yes?" you whispered, giving a yawn. Fucking Yoongi always wore you out, even though he was the one doing most of it.

"We're going to need a lot more cum if you want a baby, you know that?" he chuckled above your ear, moving his hand down to your center, caressing your sensitive area.

You whimpered as you felt his intentions bump against your inner thigh, "We just finished."

"The night is still long" he nodded, kissing you passionately as he straightened back up on top of you.

He definitely wasn't going to let you sleep tonight.

Materlist.

1K notes · View notes

ctrlhope · 2 months ago

Text

Chasing Tornados (m)

synopsis: Ever since you were young, you found solstice in the clouds. Found haven in their winding winds, their chilling storms. Monsters of the air meant to destroy became your love— your safety. You know everything about the skies, yet you only want to know more about him. Wish for him to love you just as much as you do him. Your best friend. Your scorpion. Your impossible. Your Yoongi. -> part of the rest, relax, reserve series

m.yoongi x f.reader

⛆ ﾟ ⋆ : wc: 21.0k+

⛆ ﾟ ⋆ : genre: hybrid au, storm chasers au, soulmate au, friends/coworkers to lovers, idiots to lovers, angst, smut, fluff

⛆ ﾟ ⋆ : content: scorpion hybrid!yoongi x human!reader, storm chaser!yoongi+reader, angst, semi-public sex (bathroom), fingering, p in v, dom!yoongi, sub!reader, bratty!reader a lil, rough sex, thigh riding, sex under the influence (alcohol), multiple orgasms, unprotected sex, one mention of a breeding kink, yoongi has a tail, mates, misunderstandings, fights, jealousy, non-linear storytelling, reader and yoongi are both kinda stupid idk, but also v cute, angst but a happy ending <33

⛆ ﾟ ⋆ : notes: heyyyyy it’s ur girl, back with another mc let’s play video!! kidding lol, sorry this took so long to write, life has been really hectic. trust me on this fic lol. but i rlly fell in love with these two nd I hope you do too <33 and i hope u enjoy my attempts at comedy! remember!! my requests are always open nd you can always feel free to send asks to characters <33

18+ -> minors / blank blogs dni

Wind wraps in your hair, blowing it– making it form into some beastly, monstrous thing around your head. Tangling your face, your eyes falling askew as it finds itself messing around your very being. The howls of gusts form in your ears, sounding of ghosts that would haunt any normal person.

But you, no. Not you. You live for this. Live for the rain that beats into your skin. Live for the cracks of thunder roaring above your head. Find serenity in the dark clouds that hang overhead, the adrenaline pumping through your veins. In the knowledge that it's coming. That it’s coming soon.

The world acts as something greater- something more than yourself. A collective that has not a care for you or the people in it. A system acting for its own desires. A storm that takes and takes and takes until there's nothing left to give.

You love it. Love every second of it.

Even if you should be scared, even if you should be terrified– look for cover just like everyone else. To hide and cower away from the winding beast that destroys homes, takes down power lines. That kills. You can’t. Not when you feel this– this calling deep in your bones. This calling to know more. This calling to conquer a monster.

To chase the impossible.

You have always lived for that very thing. Have constructed your entire life around finding answers for beasts that are beyond reason, to construct something real from what can only be construed as fake. To look the storm in the eye, to live within it rather than to be consumed.

And that is exactly why you stand where you find yourself now. Tornado Alley. A storm brewing just in front of you. Warm air meeting cold, finding breath, coming to life.

Maybe you should be scared. Maybe you should let panic set you alight and carry you far, far away from the death spirals. Maybe you should do a lot of things, yet you can't. You can only stare in wonder as rain hits your flesh. As the wind tries to take your clothes, battering them in the breeze. As electricity cracks above your head, light debris flying past your form to entertain the forming tornadoes fury.

Bang, Bang, Bang.

Now that sound isn't from the storm, it can’t be. Sounds too much like metal, like a fist hitting it. Oh right, the car.

“(Y/n) get your ass in here, now!” His voice is loud, forced to so you could hear him above the storm. He would never yell otherwise. Never raise his voice a single decibel against you.

Your body turns to face him, a smile breaking across your cheeks without a second thought. Eyes turning to crescents, rain dripping down your cheeks.

Right, Yoongi.

The impossible.

You don’t know when it happened. It shouldn’t have happened. But you knew it did. Felt the shift in your soul whenever you looked at him, felt your blood pumping just a fraction faster whenever he was close. Felt yourself yearn to smell his signature Yoongi scent whenever you sat in his car, whenever he drove you around on one of your little escapades.

Maybe it was a year ago. Maybe less. Maybe more. You could never be sure– emotions never were your strong suit. But he knew that, and he didn’t care. Never pressured or pried, always just let the two of you be. Act in co-existence in a way you doubt two people could.

Your partner in crime, your solace among the disarray perpetuating every second of your job– your life. The only person you knew crazy enough to chase the storms with you. To risk their life driving you into the eye. Your right hand man. Your friend.

None of it should have happened. But it did anyway. Isn’t that always the way life goes? The same way the storms control the skies, he found himself controlling your heart with no will of his own. No knowledge of the underlying flutter that found its way into your guts the second he looked at you, nor any knowledge of the way your eyes fell into adoration when they fell on him.

Why did you have to fall in love with the storm?

You weren’t sure– never cared to look deeper into the fact. Never cared to think about why you couldn’t fathom a future without him. Never dared to dip into why the scrawny kid from your college has suddenly become a man before you. Never even thought to challenge the pre-disposed ideologies that held your friendship by its core.

No. You would never do anything as stupid as that.

Yes, you were a creature of impulse. Never the type to take into account the consequences your actions disclosed. But you like to chase the impossible. You would never think to actually attempt to change it. Especially when you could lose everything in the process. Lose him.

In more ways than one.

Plus, you know where he stands. Know he could never see you as anything more than a friend– a little sister. The hair ruffles, the slight glares he gives when men talk to you in the bars, the way he puts up with your ‘overly affectionate’ cuddles– as much as you wish the simple actions meant more, you knew they simply didn’t.

A big brother. Unfortunately for you, he knows that’s the role he plays in your life too well.

But he’s not your big brother. He's a man, you’re a woman. It’s not like you ever asked to get caught up in the stringers that tangled you together. Not like you ever asked for this crush to form.

“For fucks sake! (Y/n)!” His voice is louder now, a harsh yell pulling you from the thoughts that sunk you under the waves. His body forcing itself through the wind to get to you, arm raising to shield his face. “We have to fucking go!!”

He would admonish you later for getting too caught up in your own thoughts again– something you knew all too well. But when the storm was raging around you, it was almost easier to think. To get lost in the recesses of your brain until you drew the conclusion you had been looking for all along.

His hand grips your wrist now, dragging you back to the safety of your company truck all while scolding you harshly with words he never actually meant. Just his salt-coated concern peaking through the surface. And well, his concern about getting swallowed up by the storm. Yeah, most people worry about that kind of stuff. At least that’s what you suppose.

“Are you that fucking stupid?” He shouts roughly at you, forcing you to get in the passenger seat. His touch is gentle even if his words are strong. He always has been strong. “You’re going to get yourself killed!”

He slams the door closed before you can say anything back– frustrated but not mad. Never mad at you. And for that you can’t help the giddy feeling on your lips. Your eyes watching him as he quickly walks to his side of the car, tail curled close to his back almost as if to protect himself.

Right, his tail. You forget about it a lot of the time– but at the same, you are so very fond of it. Smile whenever it moves in response to his emotions, giggle whenever he forgets about it himself, tripping over the thing.

You often forget Yoongi isn’t a full human. But it’s never played much of a role in your life, in your friendship. So you don’t really see the point to care. Choose to ignore the scorpion blood that runs through his veins and view him as any other person walking the face of the earth. It’s never bothered you.

Most people around you call you a fool anyway, it’s not much to add another reason to it.

“Ah~ Don’t worry, King Yoongi. I don’t plan on getting myself killed anytime soon.” You let out a gentle giggle as he finds his way into the car, pressing on the gas almost immediately and driving as fast as he can away.

His body is so rigid, so stressed. Yet you can’t be further from it. Your legs propped haphazardly on the dashboard, your body sinking deeper into the seat. You trust him. He always gets you out. Something about his special senses, probably. Maybe.

Actually, you don’t know. You should ask him about it later– how he can see in such horrid conditions.

“You will if I just leave you there.” He rolls his eyes, glancing over to you for only a second before managing back to the road, “Don’t think I won’t.”

“You won’t though.” He only scoffs, but you can see the smile at the corner of his mouth. It warms you almost as much as the sound of the rain– or maybe it's hail now, pelting the roof of the car.

“I could and I will.”

“But you won’t.”

“Just put your fucking seat belt on.” He grumbles, his voice getting a fraction louder as he turns the wheel harshly, a last second manoeuvre. A stick flying through the air past your window. A narrow avoidance.

The car bumps harshly as it drives, the roads narrow and in disarray. Swerving to avoid debris that litters the ground and jumping as it dips into potholes. It feels like a race. Makes you feel alive even as you click the belt into place– as he moves his tail across your frame to act as a second one.

You should be scared. Should be terrified of getting caught in the storm. But you trust Yoongi. You know he’ll always protect you.

“Did the other teams drop their equipment on time?” You ask, reaching below your seat and grabbing the computer. He sends you a pointed glance.

“According to the sensors we were the last ones.”

“Well we always are~” You mumble back, a little sing-song in your voice while your head tilts towards your chin. Eyes scanning the array of measurements that pop up on the screen– reading them, taking in their meaning.

It is your job, anyway.

“Who’s fault is that?” His words don’t perfectly cross your ears, never do when you're trying to focus. An input of too much information at once and a computer might explode! Aka your brain, aka he’s known for years you have selective hearing when trying to understand complicated things.

“Mhmm…” You quietly mumble out, fingers moving quickly to type as he finally drags the car out of the storm. Slows down to a more human speed as you type out a few observations, input pieces of code to make your readings more sensible.

You completely miss the small smile he sends your way, the tilt of his head trying to check. “Anything interesting?”

“Mmm… Nothing we haven’t seen before. Got a couple of cool 3D models of the storm your screen, though…” You tilt the laptop in his direction, showing him the model of the storm. Exactly how big it was, how fast it was moving. “Just an E2, but still pretty.”

“Yeah, had to’ve been to almost let it eat you.”

You roll your eyes, shutting the laptop as he pulls over to the side of the road, “Of course, I’d let anything as pretty as that take me out.”

He scoffs, “Anything, really?”

“Yeah, you know that guy on Attack on Titan that's like ‘oh i’d let a pretty female titan eat’-- Wait a second it is not my fault!” You suddenly announce, his words before finally registering in your mind, “You’re always tinkering with the the the bits!! That’s why it takes so long!”

You grump, crossing your arms. A fond smile finding its way to his lips.

“Yeah, cause the ‘bits’ are the real issue, aren’t they? Not you playing out music videos in your head while a tornado is hurrdaling at us?”

“Okay! That was one time! And totally not my fault!” You huff, not in any real annoyance, just simply banter. Yoongi always seemed to like your over-dramatic reactions anyway. “You said we could play Hurrcane!! By my girl Bridget Mendler! You know what that song does to me!”

He can only laugh in response, the gums of his mouth showing as he tilts his head back. Long black hair falling lower against his shoulders. Tail falling lax for the first time in forever. Crests shown in his eyes.

You like giving Yoongi your reactions if it means he can smile like this.

When he looks in your direction for a breef second, you can’t help but puff out your cheeks and stick out your tounge in pestilence. The action only causing him to shake his head, eyes returning to the road a little brighter than before.

“Yeah, yeah, you’re right. How could I possibly forget.” A thousand words are said behind his tone that you could never pick up on. Never notice. “You get so excited, like a kid. It’s funny.”

Your head jerks to look at him, a pointed glare in your eye, “She makes me feel things you can’t even hope to understand, Min.”

He rolls his own, “Uh huh. I’m sure.”

College. Senior Year. The perfect hell it bestows on all of its captors.

The combined effort of senior thesis’s, grad school searches, advanced level course work, and the unyielding need for money after graduation, as it turns out, is the best possible combination for stress any one person can find! How wonderful. Especially for you, with a stupid gpa you need to upkeep to keep your stupid scholarships, so you can get your stupid degree and get your stupid job–

Well, okay. Now you’re just spiralling.

Annoyed and tired has never been a good combination for everyday dreamers. Especially those that have been working their entire lives for a single goal. To chase their every last dying hope since they were a child. To become the very person they could only wish to be in their youth.

But in all fairness, your ass has been handed to you on a silver platter after your last exam grade was horribly, terribly slid to you face down against the table. A quiet note of “see me after class” listed on the top without reverie. Your thoughts a sudden cyclone vortexing you inward and onward, wishing you could tell the sweet summer child of your adolescence that you had failed her. That you were never going to be able to live inside a tornado as she had wished.

Oh. The monster that you were.

That was, at least, until you did meet with your professor. And, apparently, he wasn’t going to drop you from the class and (somehow) get you removed from the college like you had thought! Even better, he saw how hard you worked– how much you truly care. Deciding to lend a hand rather than pull it back. Giving you a building and a time to meet with a tutor he specifically picked out.

Someone he would apparently trust his life to. Your life– okay, academic career, to as well.

That’s how you found yourself now. Walking through a library that had to be older than your great grandparents– the scent of mildew filling your nose as you moved farther and farther into the recesses of the building.

Why, exactly, you had to meet in the deepest, darkest corner of the library at an absurd hour of the day confuses you even now. Annoys you a little, quite frankly. Leaving your dorm past 8pm feels like a nightmare.

But you trust your professor, you trust that he wouldn’t steer you wrong. Well, hope is probably a better term. One that more accurately portrays your inner conflicts as you make your way to the back conference table nestled deep within walls of encyclopaedias. Dust entrapping the air you sit in– age and memories baked in the walls.

At worst, that’s all you shall make. Memories. Call the whole thing a bust and look online for some tutors or go to a used bookstore and buy a few more outdated textbooks. At best, you’ll pass the class and become one of the best meteorologists the world has seen. No pressure on Mr. Mystery Tutor or anything. Obviously.

None at all.

Your fingers find themselves tapping against the table as you think; seat already taken, items already spread out as you wait. Just your ring finger over and over in a repeated motion– the beat of wind speeds picking up on a desert plane. The bubbling of magma under the surface of the earth. The–

“(Y/n)?” A husk of a voice breaks your almost monotonous silence, your tapping suddenly ceased as a chill travels down your spine. A chill from the tone of someone's voice alone– can you believe that?

Somewhere, once, when you were little, you heard that a chill runs down your spine whenever a serial killer passes by. But this isn't that. No, this is something entirely different. More familiar. More recognizant.

Your eyes shoot pitifully fast up at him, almost tilting your head as you take in the features. Black hair– maybe brown, baggy hoodie, slouched shoulders. One hand supporting the shrap of his bag that hangs over his shoulder.

No, you don’t know him. Maybe a future you does– one where a timeline passes over this exact spot. Where you’re friends already, maybe something more. Something safe. Though, that isn’t a very scientific explanation. One colleagues and professors may make fun of you for. You disregard the notion, only nodding your head to confirm.

He only mirrors the motion in return, seemingly not one for conversation himself. Finding himself pulling out the chair across from yours, setting himself inside of it. Wasting no time in pulling out his own belongings.

Laptop, textbook, notebook.

“The professor said you were having trouble with qualitative analysis of…” His voice trails off, and you can’t help but wonder how someone's voice can almost sound like a well-loved record. A tune that can’t quite find its sink– almost too rigid to hope itself melodic.

You listen to the same voice as it sings out the songs of your lessons. As he goes over the failed exam beat by beat. Explaining the first few questions in such simple terms anyone could understand them. Not in a way that felt condescending, no. Again, it just felt so warm that you couldn’t do anything but listen to him quietly. Absorbing everything without a single interruption.

Well, until question 7 at least. That is when you feel two synapses connecting in your brain reminding you of an ultra-important task that absolutely cannot be forgotten. A handshake. Your small hand cutting him off, reaching across the table without a second thought.

He stares at the pervasive hand as if it is something he’s never seen before. Never been offered in the first place. Something offensive to hurt rather than anything else.

Interesting.

“My dad always said you have to shake hands when you’re meeting someone. Or else it’s bad luck down the road. So…” You explain away simply, like it should be obvious to every person on the Earth. It should, honestly. But you’ve been told you have issues with thinking that way– that things obvious to you should be obvious to everyone else. That everyone else lives within the same bubble you’ve found yourself residing in your whole life.

You know it isn't true– that the bubble you’ve created is something you simply live in alone. Periphery finding itself resident to everyone else. But that’s awfully lonely, isn't it? You choose to think the former.

His shoulders slowly unfurl, defences slowly lowering as he meets your hand in the middle. Rough palm meeting yours, shaking slowly up and down before both sides pull away. A magnet short of attraction of two bodies as you pull away.

“Good.” You nod, pulling your knees up to hover off of the ground. Resting them against the edge of the table instead. “I don’t like bad luck either.”

There's a beat of silence, one that you don’t mind.

“Do you not like black cats then either?” His tone has an edge of pessimism to it. His defences considering a raise.

You, on the other hand, feel immediate offence. How dare he! “What?! Are you crazy! Or course I like them.”

You miss the crook of his lip into a light smirk, defences gone once more, “Well, normally they’re seen as bad luck…”

“That’s just a stereotype!” You instantly defend. Your body leaning over, moving your face closer to his.

He holds his arms up in defence, pencil still wedged between his fingers, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. My bad completely.” He lets out a quiet chuckle at the end, you only puff out your cheeks.

“Entirely.” You huff quietly, almost sounding like a petulant child, “I would never judge something just off of how they’re born.” At that, he almost perks an ear.

“Really?” He asks, his eyebrows slowly raising, “Not even hybrids?”

Ah, hybrids. A common discussion other people find themselves having, one that you never really found the purpose of. Arguments on their rights, the ethics of keeping them as pets, on if they should even be classified as intelligent life. You hated all of them. Didn’t understand for a second why people kept themselves concerned with class divisions or keeping others subservient at all.

As far as you care, they’re the same as humans. Think like humans, act like humans. Another creature just as deserving the right to live and exist as all others. You don’t concern yourself with the difference in their existence– seeing them, treating them the same as you would any other person.

You can’t stand that others find different opinions than yourself. Cutting them off entirely for treating another living, breathing creature with the capacity to think for itself as less. Reminding you desperately that you live on the periphery.

“No, why should I care.” You scrunch your nose up at the notion you’d think otherwise. He takes the action differently. “They’re the same as everyone else.”

You surmise your ideologies simply, though you’re never sure if your words construe correctly. His results are inconclusive as well, letting out a quiet grunt. Dropping the subject. Keeping his words from revealing what is true.

“What else is bad luck then?”

You don’t notice the quick subject change, “Walking under ladders, whistling in the woods, doing your laundry on a sunday. …I can’t imagine saying Bloody Mary in a mirror 3 times is much help either.”

He pauses for a second, his eyes just looking at you. They’re sharp things– knives against a grinder maybe. Could even be too sharp to be human, if you cared to look a little closer. Cared to notice the differences between you and him.

But you don’t, nor will you probably ever. Just allow him to shake his head simply, let him return to your test questions without a single other thought leaking into that brain of yours. Only this time, you feel comfortable enough to ask a few more questions. Let him delve more deeply into the work without the threat of your mind wandering off to useless things. Allow the clock to tick later, later, later into the night– moving from your exam, to the most recent concept your class has been working on. Carefully treading the water, staying afloat as you finally begin to understand.

You hate to admit it, you really do for the sake of your pride alone, but he really is a good teacher. He doesn’t seem upset when you ask questions– no matter how stupid you are. He stays calm whenever you start to get frustrated, carefully talking you through it instead of getting upset himself. He seems so peaceful you almost want to hate him for it.

Almost, because between the gentle instructions and messy handwriting as the hours tick late into the night, jokes begin to crack freely between both of your tongues. Gentle jabs that mean nothing, topics construing into obscurity flowing into something more entertaining to discuss.

Though– he did seem to have pause when you told him you don't trust fish. Something about them thinking they’re better than you– of which he agreed. Not that they’re better than you, of course not. But that yeah… they do seem to have that kind of look in their eyes.

He feels the same way about birds, you learned. Interesting.

It isn’t until midnight that he calls it, a time you didn’t even think was plausible. You thought it was 9:30, 10 at the latest! There’s no way midnight could have come so soon! Just the idea of it sounded fake. But then you checked the clock in the library, then your phone, and now you don’t know what to think.

Time has never flown so simply with another person.

“I told you I wasn’t lying.” He has that stupid smirk on his face, the one you’ve decided means he’s feeling cocky and amused.

“You could… you could have changed all of them when I wasn’t looking! To trick me?”

“Yeah.. mhmm.. And what would that do.. For either of us..?”

“. . . I haven’t gotten there yet.”

“Right.” He smiles, a real smile that shows off his gums. You can’t help but reflect a smaller one back at him.

Once again he moves first, standing after he’s collected all his belongings. Tossing his bag over his shoulder while you hurry to catch up. Sliding your laptop inside before making sure your pens know their correct homes in the case–

What was that?

It was something so subtle anyone could have missed it. A mouse scurrying between cases, a piece of trash floating by. Something brown moving quickly in the corner of your eye. Something you neglected to notice. How could you not notice something so obvious?

When you look up at him– finally take the man you’ve spent the night with in his entirety, you see it. You missed it while he was sitting down, obviously trying to keep the thing from view, but now there was no hiding it. It was impossible to hide the thick brown tail that hung behind him in such a relaxed posture you wonder if he forgot about it, too.

You couldn’t help the instant fascination as you took the form of it in. The pretty segments it appeared to be broken into– 5 if you counted them correctly, all stacked neatly upon one another. All leading to a stinger resting at the end, gently curled inward rather than held in defence.

The gentleness of the man himself contrasted so nicely with the firmness of the tail.

So pretty.

It was only then that he must’ve realised his mistake. Must’ve noticed your silence, followed your eye line to see exactly where it was laying. Realised that he let his guard down too quickly– understood too quickly that you didn’t already know about his… condition. His state of existence.

The professor must’ve not told you. Probably thought it was a negligible factor even though it never is. Maybe when he came in you missed it, you didn’t actually look up at him until he sat down anyway. Until his tail was already tucked deep under the chair for protection.

Without realising it, his tail raises. Curing behind his back, the tip looking even sharper than it normally does. Meanwhile his body tenses up entirely. Defence utterly encasing his form.

Fuck, and then your eyebrows are raising– and next you’re gonna start screaming and he’ll have to run so he doesn’t get taken in by hybrid services and–

“Can I touch it?” Your voice brings him back to reality, back from the ‘end-of times’ it found itself careening towards. Now he’s just, he’s just confused. Did you just ask him if you could touch it? Why aren’t you acting like he’s suddenly the scum of the earth? That’s how hybrids are treated anyway.

Even if you said otherwise earlier, that doesn’t mean much to someone who's never experienced otherwise.

“. . . oh… or maybe that’s rude. Forget it. Sorry.” You rush out instead, taking his appearance softly. Honestly, you don’t know much about what could be considered ‘rude’ to hybrids… you don’t have much experience with them at all, actually.

“You’re not…” He fumbles with himself, his tail remaining raised like a predator. He forces himself taller, forces himself to appear more together. More ready to ‘strike’-- figuratively. He clears his throat, “What, you have something you want to say?”

You cock your head back sharply, rising to your feet, “No, why would I?” You feel just as confused as him. Maybe asking to touch a hybrid’s parts is more taboo than you thought…

“Look I didn't mean any offence it was just pretty and–”

“Just fucking run off and report me if you’re going to–”

Both sentences are said at the same time from each party, the response mirroring exactly as well. Both faces twist into that of almost confusion and offence, upset that the other would dare say something like that for entirely different reasons.

“What are you talking about?” Your question comes from annoyance, almost anger that he would think you would do something as nasty as reporting him when he was just trying to live his life.

His comes from the simple word pretty. Why would you think his appendage was anything of the sort? The one thing his entire life that’s set him back– the very blood in his veins betraying him. The reason he can’t be accepted by normal people. The reason he has to take stupid night classes at this university with any professor that is actually willing to accept him. To accept his under the table payments.

The very reason he’ll never get a real job– just hope to be adopted by someone who will let him do what he wants. Just hope that the authorities don’t find him, or that his own landlord won’t turn him in before he can do that.

And you think it’s pretty? No fucking sane person would.

“Why would you think I’d report you?” Your tone is hurt, the pang in his heart hurting just as much. He hates that he feels it, and he hates that he wants to comfort you more than anything else. Stupid fucking scorpion genes.

“What else would you do?” He scoffs, crossing his arms.

“Literally nothing. I would do nothing.” You glare at him slightly, “I don’t care that you’re a hybrid, why would I?”

“Why wouldn’t you?” His tone is accusatory, but he doesn’t quite know what else to make it.

“Okay, let’s go down the list, yeah?” The spite in your tone lets the both of you know this night is taking a sour turn, “You can think, you can feel, oh right, you’re your own fucking person.”

You roll your eyes, “I know words don’t mean much, probably, but I view literally every creature as equal.” He still stands firm, your words and his life experiences battling in his mind. You sigh, this isn’t going anywhere. “Listen, I know it probably doesn’t mean much, and like, we both just met so I know it doesn’t hold much value. But I’m really sorry for whatever you’ve gone through in your life. It couldn’t have been easy. But I really, truly don’t care about whatever laws are in place. As far as I’m concerned, you’re equal to me.”

Your tone had gone soft, more gentle. Trying to dispel the hostility that hung fragrant in the air. But it looks like he can’t move. Doesn’t really know how after all of that. You probably wouldn’t either– though you’re not sure, you’ve never been good at putting yourself in other people's shoes. You just hope he believes you… that’s all you can do.

“I’ll head out first. You have my number, text me if you want to meet again.” You start towards the door, the ball left in the other man’s court. You wish you could’ve at least got his name first but.. He never introduced himself. Hmm, maybe you did the handshake too late, that’s why the bad luck kicked in.

“You think it’s pretty?” You almost don’t hear his words, too far away.

You turn your body back to face him, a gentle smile crocheted onto your lips, “Of course I do. Exquisite.”

The two of you stand in silence for a minute longer, trying to navigate the confusing energy moving between both of your forms. It’s only when you turn back around again to leave that he finally speaks. The simple word of his name.

“Yoongi.”

“Well, it was very nice to meet you, Yoongi.” You say softly, tilting your head to look at him once again, “I really do hope we can be friends.”

But that was years ago. Friends came and went; now you want so much more. More than you could ever quite articulate. You know it now as you sit with him, an after-chase ritual in whatever cheap roadside bar you can find. Never finding yourselves regulars, always on the move– save for the presence of each other.

“I don’t think luck is real, you know.” Yoongi drawls into your ear, the scent of alcohol heavy on his tongue. His body leaning against yours in the crowded bar, hair dancing against the side of your neck all while his tail finds itself curled around your back. A simple motion that could only be described as protective, possessive.

“What?!” You dramatically slap your hand against your mouth, an action you picked up from him. Alcohol inhibiting both of your minds only slightly, letting words flow a little easier than they otherwise might. Letting touch feel a little more commonplace.

An afterwork tradition, if you will.

“You’re insane!” You announce, slapping his shoulder playfully, “You’re gonna make bad luck get us Yoongi!! Take it back!”

Your voice is almost a whine, and he wants to fold because of it.

“You say that like you aren’t a stem major!” He laughs, his eyes shining like crescent moons you want to live on. Wait, does that even make sense?

“That doesn’t matter! We're like– the least scienc-y!! Our whole job is practically based on luck! Oh my god!” Now you’re stopping your foot a little, and his tail finds itself pulling you closer.

“Yeah, but you have no idea how many ladder’s I’ve walked under and you still say I have the best luck.” He giggles– fucking giggles!! Can you believe the audacity of this man?!

“Yoongi!! How dare you!! Do you know how many E5s’ you’ve cost us?! Probably like.. Like 20!”

“Mm, maybe yours just keeps it up for the both of us. Huh?” You humph, you fucking humph, and maybe– just maybe, Yoongi feels himself going a little insane. Forgetting himself– what you are meant to be to him.

“That’s the only plausible explanation… obviously…”

He hums, “Obviously.”

There’s a brief moment, a flicker in the air of something indescribable. Something that makes your skin feel a quiet, humble flame strumming under the surface. That makes you feel as if there's electricity pulsing through the space left between your noses. That makes you feel almost invincible as your eyes meet his warm brown tones.

You’ve come to love earthy hues since meeting Yoongi. He’s full of them, after all.

But, the flame of the match is blown out far too quick for you to truly comprehend what that moment was. Why it felt the way it did. Instead, your left sputtering with the absence of Yoongi, the slow withdrawal of his form.

“I’ll go get us more drinks.” His gravelly voice mutters just loud enough to hear over the music. You can only nod along, already missing the security of the tail curled around your back.

At least he isn’t so shy about it’s presence anymore. At least not like he was back then– trying to hide it, trying to make the rest of the world forget about it. You never understood why, no, how could you when you love it so much? Find it just another integral part of Yoongi for you to love.

You can even smile now, thinking back to how cute he got the first time he let you touch it. How he turned red to his ears, the chill that travelled down his spine. The flick of it as it chased after your hand when you retreated. It was too fucking cute back then… mm. Maybe that’s when you first started to grow a crush on the man.

Or maybe it was always how struck he was when you complimented him. Pushed it aside like it meant nothing, yet he always seemed a little out of it for the rest of your time spent together. You suppose Yoongi has always been reticent to your gaze; but then again, he was always aloof when it came to his feelings as it was. Nothing to dwell on, honestly.

You’ve never tried to hide your feelings– have never wanted to, really. You don’t think you even know how. But you’re not going to force them on him either. If he wants to act, the door has always been open. And it will remain open to him, probably forever.

“How’d the chase go this time?” A voice carries you from your head, your feet returning to the solid ground. Jisung, a fellow chaser finds himself in the seat next to yours– the seat Yoongi used to fill. A friend in the industry, you could say. Though, you take to thinking he probably wants more.

“Mmm… ‘bout as good as any other this late into the season…” You hum, taking a sip from your half-full glass, “Never as good around this time of year.”

Your sigh makes a gentle smile grow onto his plush lips, “Really? I thought you fell in love with every storm.” He lets out a quiet snort, swirling his own cup. His eyes seem to remain focused on you, though.

“Of course I do. Everyone is perfect and special!” You declare a smile stretching back, “However, like every caring mother, I do have favourites.”

“I don’t think– that’s not–” He laughs, “Aren’t parents not supposed to have favourites?”

“You really believe that Lie, Sung? Bold of you.”

“Well, do you have favourite pets?”

“Of course not!! How dare– okay, yeah. It’s the goldfish. His name is Guppie and he is my pride and joy. Named after my first love in elementary school~ imagine I let out a dreamy sigh here.”

His laugh makes your own come out as well, “Your first love was a… fish?”

“What, no?”

“They were named Guppie? … Like a fish…”

“Nickname, of course.” You giggle, girlish and cute.

“Do you give nicknames to everyone then?” He moves his face closer in wonder, excitement, “What’s mine? You have to tell me.”

You hum, tapping your chin in contemplation, “I don’t know ‘Sung, nicknames are reserved for extra special people in my life…”

“Ah!” He clutches his chest, looking down before popping his head up. Puppy dog eyes, “I’m not extra special? You wound me (Y/n)! You really do! And I really thought we had something, I can’t believe this.”

You laugh loudly at the dramatic act– emotions on the sleeve are so much more fun to display. You know he probably means none of it, but it’s still adorable. You can’t help but lean in closer, slapping his chest gently.

“Shh! Shh! You’re too loud! Too loud! You’re extra special!” The conversation is easy, just as it always is with Jisung. Though it isn’t the same– you can’t help but notice that fact. It feels easy, smooth… though like there is a wall in the way of true connection. Like there is a way you are meant to act. Just like there always is.

Always is with everyone but Yoongi.

It’s strange. But something you’ve grown attached to. Fond of.

He clears his throat behind you– think of the devil and he shall appear. Or however the saying goes. You’ve never been good with them, anyway. Your strengths and your faults, the simple facts have become all too aware of over time. Not that you mind them, of course. You just accept them as a fact of ‘you’. Just like your bubble, just like your impossible.

“Oh, hey!” Jisung is bright as always, giving a gentle wave to the man behind you.

“Poongie!” You smile, your inebriated mind already attempting to wrap itself around his torso. It’s not your fault you already missed him!

Jisung erupts in a fit of giggles, “Poongie?! That’s his?!”

“Yep! Mixture of Pookie and Yoongi. He loves it.” He certainly does, but he would never admit it. Actually, he feels kind of odd right now. More… stiff than he was before he left. Like something… darker? Is radiating off of him. Though, it’s not actually dark. Just kind of… displeased. You can't seem to find the right word.

“I can tell.” Jisung rolls his eyes, “He looks thrilled.”

That only seems to further upset the man, his tail slowly curling around itself on instinct. Moving to find purchase on your waist. To pull you closer. To claim you. Sober thoughts slipping into a drunk mind, his actions freer than he normally allows them to be.

Jealousy. That’s all he feels. Jealous that you just called someone who’s been openly hitting on you the entire season ‘extra special’. How fucking childish of him. He knows that even now, but he doesn’t want to stop. Everything that normally does feels as though they’ve gone into hibernation at this very moment.

He just wants you.

The next thing the Scorpion knows, he’s setting the drinks on the counter while you gaff away. Lifting you by your hips, sliding his form underneath yours with a grunt. Placing you on his lap and finally, making sure you’re secure to him with a hug of his tail around your midsection.

He almost feels proud at your little squeal of surprise. At the blush on your cheeks. That’s right. He’s the only special one to you. This other man– other predator should know it.

He knows he’ll regret this display in the morning. That he’ll feel utterly embarrassed by the whole thing. But right now Min Yoongi feels on top of the world.

“Yoongi! What are you doing!” You hiccup out in surprise, trying to turn to face him. But he holds you still, holds you secure. Holds you safe just like he always makes sure you are. Gives you a response only by the shrug of his shoulders, his chin finding purchase in the crook of your neck.

“W-well.. Fine then!” You huff, puffing out your cheeks just a little, “I’ll stay, but… just for a little! I’ll stay here for a little…” You grow a little quiet near the end, a little nervous. But you couldn’t feel more warm than in this moment. So heavenly.

Jisung only laughs, what else is he meant to do anyway? A small, petulant part of Yoongi was hoping he’d run for the hills– he would with such aggressive scent marking. But then again, the other man is a human, probably doesn’t know anything about such a thing.

The other part of Yoongi almost wants him to watch. Wants the other man to watch you drown in your own blush, watch as you learn more and more into the firm chest behind you. Feel the connection you two have that–

Oh, you’re laughing again too, what a pretty sound. The conversation picking up once again– Jisung is a conversationalist isn’t he. Yoongi almost wishes he was the same. Jealousy is an ugly emotion. It makes people do drastic things. It makes Yoongi want to do even more drastic things.

If only he was human.

If he was human he'd do so much more. Would have already done so much more. But now, in his current state of being, he couldn’t handle it. He wouldn’t be able to handle the rejection. He knows it. Knows it in the way mother’s comfort their children after one look at his tail, and knows it in the way you look at storms.

Yoongi isn’t a tornado. You would never look at him the same way you look at them. With such love and light in your eyes.

But god he wants you to, he wants you to more than anything. He wants to be an option. He wants to be the center of your universe just like those dumb fuck storms are. He wants to be the wind that plays with your hair, the rain that kisses your skin. He wants to be the very thing that envelopes your entire consciousness just like those storms do.

And maybe, just maybe if he presses himself close enough to you he can. He can pretend with the poison in his blood that you like him. He can be yours, even if it's only for a night.

He would always be yours. You never his’.

And as the night ticks on, venom bubbling up every second that ticks, he feels himself becoming looser. Feels you melting into his grip as pretty drinks and florals fill your mind. Feels your scent starting to overpower his nose as his mind blurs with thoughts of you. Almost feels the tangle of souls joining in the way he’s always wished them to.

“Yoonie..” You hum, fingers coming up loosely to move through his hair in a way they only do when the two of you are alone, “He went to get a drink, can let me go now…seats open.”

He almost feels annoyed at your words, and you can’t help but let the disappointment of them bubble, too. You don’t want him to let you go. In fact, you’d be happy staying like this forever. But you know Yoongi, you know he doesn’t like to be so… affectionate in public. He’s one to show his love quietly, something else you’ve come to find endearing over the years you’ve spent by his side.

Only, you don’t feel relieved movements like you expected to, no. While his arms go lax, his tail almost pulls tighter. The two sides of him fighting, arguing over what to do next. And next, next you feel something so warm. So soft against your neck that you don’t know what to do.

Lips. His lips are against your neck. A gentle press to the side of the column robbing you of your ability to breath, ability to think. Normal affectionate pecks are common, sure, when the two of you have spent too long reaserching and analysing the your brains are working a little slower than they normally do, they might even be seen as common. But this kiss, this kiss was slow. It was languid. It was so much more. Everything you’ve ever wanted.

“Have to?” His words are quiet, gruff. Lips moving against your neck as he talks. Spoken to you alone in the world, emboldened by the alluring mix of jealousy and alcohol.

You shake your head, much emboldened by the same. He never has to let you go.

“Good.” You feel your heart in your ears, ready to explode as he moves his arm back around you, back to your hip to hold you steady, “Mine.”

Neither of you ever expected that single, life altering word to ever leave his lips.

“Y-Yours?” You can’t help yourself, you need to make sure you heard him right. Needed to make sure this whole thing wasn’t a dream. That his lips, slowly kissing along the ridge of your shoulder are real and not a figment of your imagination.

Though he doesn’t say it again, doesn’t will himself to. Instead the sound you hear is something low, one you’ve never heard him use against you. A gentle growl lodged in the back of his throat, confirming it. Confirming everything for your head and your heart to hear.

“Yours…” You try again, tilting your head to the side, giving him more room. He hums in assurance, in want.

You think you could die happy.

The impossible. The impossible is claiming you for himself. Is holding the heart of the love struck college student, the nervous new-hire, the assured scientist all in the palm of his hand. Is confirming your affections. Confirming the fire brewing deep in your belly. The coals that have been slowly and tenderly cared for over time.

Yoongi and the storms– they’re both your impossible, your fate finding reality.

“Y-Yoongi I—” He tilts your chin, cutting you off mid sentence. Passion alight beneath the subtle glow of amber that robs you of your words. Lets you know exactly what you need to. Makes the fire burst into flames as his fingers gently dig into your hip, makes your entire body heat as he rubs in gentle circles.

“I don’t like him.” He grunts, letting his forehead rest against yours, “Keeps you from me.”

“No one can keep me from you.” The reply is instant, your lips barely missing his. “You’re for me.”

God, and at that moment you know that the prettiest noise in the world is Yoongi’s quiet groan. The way his eyes close, the way he practically pulls you down into his lap sends you into overdrive. The way he slowly rolls his own up is enough to send you into a puddle of your former being.

The rest of the world is gone, entirely melted away from reality. Now, now it’s just you and Yoongi. Cornered away from the rest of the bar, out of sight. Out of mind. Just his hands slowly moving your hips to be seated on just one of his thighs, his tail making sure you’re secure. Just your scent driving him crazy.

He can tell how wet you already are. He can tell how much you want him, just as he wants you.

The contact is rough, a little maddening. His jeans pressing up against yours, the thin cotton of your panties not doing much to stop the harsh heat. But you don’t want it to stop. You want him to do whatever he wants.

“You’re wet.” He isn't shy to admit it. Isn’t shy to admit the smell invading his nose. Isn’t shy to let you know exactly what it’s doing to him with the rock of your hips. Letting you feel something hard pressed right against your back.

“Shut up…” You instantly complain, whining as you lean your back against his chest, further into his touch. He cracks a soft smile at your words, rocking you back and forth so slowly, so carefully. Letting you feel every flex of the muscle, every rough movement of the jean against your clit. Savouring every second now that the threat of the other man has dissipated. Taking his time in case all of this is a dream and he will have to give you up tomorrow.

“Why? Not cute when I say it?” He chuckles, jumping his leg slightly off the ground, sending a wave through your body. A shock of pleasure to the system that has a gentle moan tumbling from your lips. That has your hips sending a gentle buck back. That has your brain feeling as though it might become mush.

Yoongi is going to be the death of you, you’re sure of it.

“Hey guys I…” Yoongi’s eyes find Jisung before your own do. Before the flushed expression on your face can quell and certainly before you can find a coherent thought. And suddenly the lazy foreplay in the corner of the bar is gone. Suddenly Yoongi is no more than an animal once again.

“O-Oh! Jisung! S-sorry let me just–” You try, but there isn’t any use. No, Yoongi is pissed you even said his name. Pissed you tried to move away from him. Why would you try to move away from him? A predator with his m– prey being stolen right out from under him. A predator that has everything to gain and everything to lose.

Yoongi isn’t thinking anymore as he stands, just barely keeping you upright as he pulls you away. Grabs your hand and leads you to the bathroom, locks the door once you’re both inside.

Sanity is no longer present. Only the jealousy he feels inside. Only annoyance at the other man for trying to take you away from him. You said he was yours, that he was made for you. And the other predator dared try to take you? Take you from him when you were about to share something so sweet?

Yoongi knows he isn’t thinking right. Knows he might regret it in the morning– but he also knows if he doesn’t do something now he’ll regret it even more. For once, for once in his life he wants to be selfish. For once in his life he wants to forget he can’t ever have you because he’s a hybrid. For once he just wants you.

You’d let him have you. Over and over again. For the rest of your lives.

“Yoongi what are you–” He cuts you off with his lips against your own for he doesn’t know the answer. He’s letting himself just exist for once. Exist in the way he wants to without care. And all he wants right now is to kiss you.

You couldn’t want anything more. Have been waiting your entire life to feel the press of his lips against your own. Kiss him back without a second thought– without reprieve. Let your mouth slip open easily for him, let everything get as messy as he wants.

The time for gentle foreplay is over. No, now is the time to consume.

Without a second thought he lifts you by your hips, your hands falling into place against his shoulder. Letting him lead, letting him take control as he fits his body against yours with such perfect harmony. Nobody would doubt you’re two pieces of the same puzzle, ready to fit together for the rest of eternity.

He groans when he feels your hips press against his, as he feels your heat seep through layers of clothing. Cusses when he finally pulls back, sees the saliva collected at the corner of your lips. The hazy look in your eye that tells him you need him just as much as he needs you. That you want him so terribly you can’t help but fall against him for love, for safety.

It’s just the alcohol.

Yoongi practically growls at his own thoughts, his tail rising in defence, in defiance against his own brain. Forcing the thoughts away, forcing everything away other than your body in the room. Other than your desire in the room.

When his mind is no longer clouded he can come to terms with all of this, come to terms with his feelings and shove them so far back down they’ll never see the light of day– but now, right now he needs this. Needs it more than anything.

“Want you.” He grunts, his knees falling onto the dirty bathroom floor. His hands splay against your thighs, feeling them. Worshipping the skin as if it is an altar. As if you’re his religion. “Can I?”

He doesn’t have to ask, he doesn’t need to. He would never have to ask you. Every single time you’d fall for the storm that is Min Yoongi. Over and over again. As if it’s as easy as breathing, as easy as thinking.

The answer is even easier now– as your heart beats in your ears, as arousal pools in your gut. As his blunt fingernails dig themselves ever so slightly into your flesh, begging for entry. Begging for you to just give in. His cheeks a flush, his hair already a wreck. His chest rising and falling and thinking just for you.

He looks like a god.

“W-want you.” Your stutter makes you feel meak, but his groan of approval makes you feel strong. Makes you feel like your bubble has been popped, like the world finally has meaning past tornados and cataclysms.

He takes your approval without any grace. Without a second to even think before he’s pulling your pants down with such hunger, such carnal need. His throat releases a groan of desire as your scent hits him at full force, as you give yourself to him.

He can’t help himself as he presses his face against your panties, his nose right against your clit as he inhales. Takes in all of you for himself. Lets himself be greedy.

“Y-Yoongi!” You squeak in surprise, the noise tapering into a whine. How could he do something so embarrassing! What is wrong with–

You can’t even finish the thought before his fingers pull your panties to the side, his eyes focused directly on your wet, needy cunt. “Smell good.”

If you weren’t entirely red before, you certainly are now. There is no way you couldn’t be. Not with the hunger in his eyes. The fire in your belly.

His tongue darts out, licking your pussy directly without a second thought. Parting your lips, collecting your arousal on his tongue. Tasting you, basking in everything you. Listening to the pretty little moan that comes from your parted lips. Falling apart without a second thought.

And suddenly he’s hungry. Hungrier than he’s ever been in his entire life. Hungry in a way that he’s sure can only be satiated by you. By making you his.

“Fuck, (Y/n)...” He almost sounds more affected than you are, like he could cum from your taste alone. But he can’t, he won’t let himself. He wants, needs to be inside of you more than everything. Needs to fuck you, consume every part of you like he so selfishly craves.

“Gotta get you ready…” He’s talking to himself more than to you as he stands again, trying to keep himself from succumbing to the scorpion screaming at him to just claim you as his. He can only be selfish for tonight. This night. “You gonna be quiet for me? Can’t get caught.”

“Please…” Your voice is practically a whimper, practically begging him to just do something, anything. And who is he to deny you of such simple pleasures? Especially when you whine just for him, moan just for him. Jut your hips out ever so slightly to present yourself just to him.

His thumb finds your clit almost instantly as you call out to him. Rubbing circles into the bundle of nerves with quick, fast precision while another digit presses against your leaking hole. Preparing you, getting you ready for the intrusion.

Your voice is a siren’s song, and Yoongi then knows why pirates used to get lost at sea. Used to become entrapped by the mermaids that sang for them. He feels himself going crazy now, as your head tilts back. As your cunt flutters around nothing, begging him to slide his finger inside just as you both desperately crave.

A buck of your hips is all he needs to fuck the digit inside, trusting it in and out slowly. Making sure it goes as deep as it can before curling and slowly retracting. Increasing pace with the volume of your sounds, with the circle of your clit. Combining sensation, driving you further and further into the clouds with every movement.

It is then you know that his hands are a deadly poison, one you know you will fall apart to. Especially with the gentle sounds of his grunts, with the push of a second finger into your hole. With his heated gaze focused on nothing but how well you’re taking him, how you’re stretching so prettily around his fingers.

You place your hand over your mouth, try to keep your moans to a minimum. Try to suppress every little sound that threatens to spill past your lips. Yet you can’t help it, how could you when he knows exactly where to curl his fingers? When they press right against that little bundle of nerves inside. When they rub against you so perfectly.

“Y-Yoongi!” You accidentally shout, your hips bucking in surprise. The band growing tighter and tighter in your lower abdomen. Your eyes clouding with pleasure as your head feels lighter and lighter.

He only smirks, gentle and sinful. “Found it.”

He thrusts his fingers back in the exact same way, their pace hurried. Concise. Locating that exact same spot over and over again, curling his fingers up just right. Timing the strokes perfectly with a roll of your clit. You feel like you could scream, you’re going to scream.

“Y-You’re so mean!” You whimper, the hand on your clit moving to hold your thighs down. To resist your messy bucking. Resist your adorable begging for more. This other thumb moving to press against your clit instead.

Then you see it, see the pretty brown thing that had you so enamoured to begin with. Remember just how sensitive it was when you touched it first, and just how mean he’s being to you now.

With all the clarity you have left in your little brain you reach for his tail, hold it in your tiny hands. Whimper at how big it is, how strong it feels. How much it protects you. And without a second thought, you wrap your lips around the tip of it and moan. Using it as a gag, using it to stop your cries.

Yoongi suddenly tenses below you, his entire frame shifting as your mouth sucks on the tip. Your eyes closed in concentration, little tears bubbling up in the corners as you whine around him. Fully focused on your pleasure, the feeling of his fingers inside of you– so close to falling apart.

He thinks he could cum at that second. He’s sure of it.

A choked groan leaves his own lips as his fingers resume their pace, his senses going into overdrive. No longer thinking, no longer able to do anything but act. But take and take and give and give until there's nothing left.

And god he wants to burn this picture into his brain. Wants to cement it into the rest of his thoughts, his very being. His movements are messier, faster as he fucks his fingers into your cunt. Doesn’t care about the noise as his tail moves on its own, slowly thrusting in and out of your mouth. Your g-spot battered, you clit burning with pleasure.

Sounds that resemble words fall deaf on your tongue as the band finally breaks, as the world around you spins. As you find euphoria from Yoongi’s fingers. The eye of the storm befalling your very being as electricity moves down your spine as the winds subside.

You’re left panting in front of him, your walls tightening as he slowly coaxes you through it. Helps you feel every ounce of pleasure that you deserve. Kisses your shoulder gently, softly, watching you come down from your high.

You can only whine at the affection, the fog lifting for a brief second as he slowly pulls his fingers out of you. You feel so empty– too empty. You still want him. You still want so much more.

You try to say his name, try to vocalise but it only sends vibrations down his tail. A groan leaving his lips, heat still heavy in his eyes. You realise his tail is still moving, still slowly moving in and out of your mouth. You know he isn’t finished.

You know you never want him to be.

You raise your leg up, kicking, trying to push his pants down. Begging them to just drop a little lower. To get his cock out so he can fuck you properly. So he can make you feel so much more full of everything him.

He lets out a chuckle of a scoff, his bangs falling in front of his eyes as he shakes his head, “Needy.” He grunts, yet he feels the exact same way. Removing his tail from your mouth, finally letting you speak. Ignoring the way his heart hammers at the sight of your puffy, glossed lips.

“Shut up.” Is the only reply you can muster, hands quickly moving to try and shove his pants down. To try and get him inside of you. He just smiles, the predatory glint never leaving his eyes. The dig of his nails never leaving your thigh.

Finally, with your messy attempts you urge them down, force the annoying material down his thighs, his boxers moving right along with it. And fuck, you can’t help but gawk. Can’t help but whine because shit, you’ve never seen a cock so pretty! What the hell! That isn’t fair! None of this is fair and he hates you!

“You hate me.” You whimper, letting him take the lead once again. Following as he slowly leans you back, manoeuvres your hips in exactly the way he wants. Presents your puffy, fluttering cunt just for him. Messy and aching, desperate for more.

“Maybe.” He smiles, teasing you. He’s teasing you! Can you believe that! You certainly can’t, a whine and a gentle smack to his chest telling him everything he needs to hear. Yet you’re forgetting about it all too quickly as you feel the head of something hard gently press against your lips.

In your hazed stupor, you completely missed the action. The way he gripped his cock in his hands, the languid strokes he’s made up and down the length. The way he flicked his thumb over the head just before he decided to so sinfully trace it along your slit. Teasing himself, tracing around your hole with the head. You think he might kill you.

He thinks much of the same.

“I’m on birth control.” You messily squeak out of the blue, eyes trained between your bodies where he’s so close. So very close to fucking himself inside. Into being exactly where you want him. Snapping that final line you two could never come back from.

His eyes dart up to your face, something dark in the iris. Something neither of you address as he finally lets go of his last bit of reserve. As his lips slam into yours, consuming your very being.

His hand finds your leg, pulling it up, resting it against his hip to draw you closer. In one single thrust drawing all the air out of your lungs, removing all thoughts from your head as he thrusts his entire length inside. Filling you, stretching you in the most perfect way. In a way you never imagined another person could do.

Your cries are drowned by his lips, his own curses lost in the same. The stretch, the burn is subtle, yet you could never want anything less. Anything more than the euphoric feeling of Yoongi feeling your ever being.

“Shit…” He finally lets himself breathe, let himself have a moment to feel you. Feel your plush walls wrapped around his length, feel you fluttering around him so perfectly. You’re going to make him insane.

He pants softly, trying to wait– trying to hold himself back from fucking you so hard you can’t walk. So hard he’ll have to carry you out of this shitty bar. So that everyone will know what the two of you did. Just who you belong to.

You give an experimental wiggle of your hips, a signal to move. A signal to stop holding back. The only signal that he needs.

“Yoongi!” The cry is loud, but he can’t seem to care anymore. The pace he takes is anything but slow. It's fast, hard. Rushed. Like he can’t wait a single second longer. Can’t waist a fucking millisecond doing anything else other than laying claim to your soul.

His hips snap against your own, his cock practically hitting your cervix with every thrust. His cock pressed against that same bundle inside every time he draws back, every time he fills you again and again. It’s messy– messy and so wet. So perfect.

“Fuck, fuck.” He mutters to himself, damp hair falling into his eyes, “Have to be quick, gonna fuck you hard, okay?”

He drawls, scratchy. Rough. Pressing his hips fully against yours, fully feeling your slick heat. The lewd noises bouncing against the walls, filling the space. Sending a symphony into your strumming ears. Into your already worn out frame.

You nod in agreement quickly, almost dumbly as you try to fall into a rhythm. Try to meet his movements the best you can. It feels pointless, all of it does. Trying to do anything feels so pointless when he’s fucking you so relentlessly. Like he’s waited his entire life for this moment and he’d rather die than waste another second.

Fucking you like it means something. Like you mean everything.

“Shit, (Y/n). So fucking wet.” He groans, his head rolling back, no longer able to look at the mess between your legs, “So needy.”

You whine, shaking your head. Trying to gain a semblance of reality when it feels like it has been shattered in the most beautiful way.

“Sh-Shut up!” You whine, your walls clenching around his cock, “A-Am! Am not!”

Your denial sends a wave of something through Yoongi. Something that makes him growl, that makes his sight darken just a bit more.

“You’re not?” He scoffs, his eyes finding your own, reading you like an open book, “Little fucking liar.”

His pace changes, taking shape into a different beast entirely. Something new. His thrusts turn from messy, hurried to sharp and precise– the pace never changing. Every single thrust knocking the wind from your lungs, changing the very shape of your DNA to scream for him and only him.

“Y-Yoongi what the fuck?!” You whine, your head knocking back, hitting the glass behind you. Even more of your brain cells scrambling, trying to stay in reality. Trying not to float off in the great beyond where Yoongi wants you to stay.

“Hmm?” He grunts, his eyes focused back downwards. Right to where your slick coats him, to where a pretty white ring has formed around the base. He won’t last long. Even if he wants to keep fucking you forever, he knows he’s done for. “Thought you weren’t needy.”

You whine, unable to stop the band from pulling tight in your gut once again. Unable to stop the pleasure from coursing through your veins. Already a wreck– your body warm with sweat and your hole fluttering uselessly around him. Trying to draw him back in over and over.

Never get him to leave.

His voice is suddenly in your ear, far closer than you remember him being. Far closer than you can manage him being. Fuck, and now his thumb is pressing against your clit again. You don’t know what you can do, what to do.

“You can cum if you just admit it, human.” You’re going insane. “Tell me how fucking needy you are for me. C’mon, do it. I know you can.”

It’s over for you. You had no clue Yoongi could ever be like this, no clue just how much you’d want it. How much you’d love it. Even as tears bubble in the corners of your eyes from the pleasure, even as your hips buck up weakly to meet his thrusts. As his cock makes you feel like you’re about to enter the pearly gates.

You know you love it.

“Y-Yoongi!” You whimper, your hands gripping his shoulders with so much strength you think they might bruise. Hell, you’re sure he’s bruised your hips. There isn’t much difference. “I-I!”

“Mhmm..” He hums, sounding entirely unaffected on the surface, yet it’s clear he’s falling apart just as much as you. Clear in the way his hips stutter so slightly, losing their pace. Clear in the way he holds you tighter and tighter. The way his tail curls possessively around your leg. “You can do it. Say it, human.”

“I-I’m needy!” You whine, forgetting your volume, “I-I need you, Yoongi!”

Just like that, he’s tumbling off the edge. Your words acting as an anchor, as the very thing he’s wanted to hear for years. His hips stuttering inside of you, filling your cunt with his cum without a second thought.

“Cum, pretty thing.” His voice is guttural. A command as your legs lock around him. His thumb never giving your clit reprise. while he doesn’t stop the movement of his thumb. Your own release finding you the second you feel his cock twitch inside of you, the moment you feel his cum leak inside.

Winds swirl at your very being. Lifting you higher and higher into the clouds as your walls clench around him. Milking him for everything, for all he’s worth. Making sure every drop lands inside, making sure you stay nice and full of him while your head wanders into the clouds. While every bit of your being feels fireworks.

Your legs don’t even let go as the two of you slowly begin to calm down. As your heart rates try to return to normal and air returns to your lungs. As Yoongi’s length slowly begins to soften inside of your cute, worn little cunt.

You don’t want to let go. You never want to let go.

His grip slowly softens on your hip. Thumb working to rub slow, gentle circles in their place. His lips finding the column of your throat once more– gentle, nipping kisses find home over the marks he left while sitting at the bar. Not any real bonding marks like his scorpion may have wanted, but pretty red things that claim your skin in a human way.

Your fingers find his strands, knotting themselves in them. Keeping his head where it belongs. You’ve never felt more loved, more wanted in this moment.

You never want it to end.

“Needy…” He smiles to himself, shaking his head softly. His hair tickles your ear. “Can’t believe you actually said it.”

“Y-you!” You try, realising how severely you’re still out of breath. You hate how quickly he’s bounced back. “You made me! You ass!”

He only smiles, shaking his head. Still in complete and utter disbelief that this is real, “I wanted to hear it. You were cute.”

Your legs finally relax when you whine. They easily fall on either side of him, kicking slightly in petulance as he pulls away from your cunt. Removing himself from you, smiling as his cum starts to collect at your opening.

This still all has to be a dream for him, it has to be.

“You hate me!” You repeat again, warmth coming to your cheeks once more as his hands find your cunt. One thump pulling your lip open, letting him see just how much of a mess he’s made you. Letting him watch as his cum drips from your core.

“Maybe.” He can’t help the fond glow in his eyes as he kisses your cheek. A thought coming to the forefront of his brain that he forces back. Another thought he could never let surface, not even now as you’re stuffed with his cum.

His scorpion still preens all the same, though. Filled with thoughts of kids. Thoughts Yoongi, the human, not the scorpion, would never say aloud. Drunk, tipsy, or sober.

He reaches for the dispenser, grabbing a few paper towels before turning on the sink and running them under. Not the best tool, but it will do.

“Well, I don’t hate you…” You’re blushing as you say the words, almost embarrassed without real reason to be. What you just did, it was so much more than ‘I don’t hate you.’ At least, it wasn’t to you. You hope it wasn’t for him either.

You help him with his pants, reaching your hands down and pulling them up slowly for him, “I don’t hate you either.” He rolls his eyes, gently cleaning the space between your legs.

“Awkward if you did.” You huff, lifting your hips as he moves your underwear back in place. Stay hovering as he slides your jeans back up as well.

He leaves a gentle press against your temple, offering you a hand as you hop off the counter. Hips and legs already entirely too sore, a whine shedding your throat as you let him know the pain. All while he only laughs, patting your butt as he helps you walk.

The picture of domesticity.

Neither of you address the elephant in the room, both for entirely different reasons. For radically different realities. The morning would be better anyway, you surmise. With fluid thoughts and no liquor in your system.

You assume Yoongi feels the same way as you both walk home. Gentle shoulders and banter thrown around as casually as ever. The only solid thing the both of you know: you can never go back to that bar again.

God, your fucking head hurts. Maybe?? Maybe everything hurts? When the hell did the sun get so loud?! Since when did light feel like fucking screaming, man?! This isn’t fair! Nothing is fair and the world hates you! Exclusively you, and no one but you!

No, that’s not true. That’s completely illogical, actually. But you can’t find it in yourself to care. Especially when your head is buzzing and your stomach is already growling for some kind of food.

Oh god, food would be so good right now. Warm steamy pancakes, eggs, some kind of potato with a dash of Yoongi to eat it with like you do every morning.

Suddenly, the other side of the bed feels entirely too cold. Freezing. A void empty where the warmth you felt last night should reside.

He fell asleep there, you're sure of it. You remember the feeling of his arms around you, the soft snores that left his lips after you both stumbled into bed. Barely getting undressed before falling into your bed. You remember everything about last night. So much so that you can’t help the heat that rises to your cheeks at the memory. The thought of everything done in that dingy bathroom, all the words spoken, the care professed.

Even if you were tipsy, you would never forget it. You would never regret it. Were waiting to wake up in his arms to make everything official– a long overdue conversation that would finally set in motion your lives together.

So where the hell is he?

A pout forms on your lips as you stretch, your body too tight for the morning and even more so for your search. The soreness in your hips, the bruises he left from his grip a brutal reminder of his absence as you sit up, your eyes squinting as you scope the scene.

You don’t think you like what you see– it’s a weird feeling, honestly. His bag is gone, his shoes are gone, his clothes are gone. For the first time in all the years you’ve known him, he feels utterly gone. Not a speck of him in your room, not a single sign he was even on this trip with you.

Does he regret…

The frown pulls deeper as you reach for your phone. You definitely don’t like this feeling. Like he wasn’t even there to begin with after everything that just happened.

“Ah, stop it.” You say to yourself, one of your hands coming up to gently pat your cheek. You hate where your brain is going so quickly. Maybe you’re just a sop that needed more aftercare than he knew about– yeah, that's probably it. He probably just wanted to go back to his own room and shower before you had to work today. See, that makes much more sense, doesn’t it? You nod your head, almost in agreement with your thoughts. Set on your decision, on the most-likely-possible solution.

[9:27am] To: Poongie

> Goodmorning :> I hope you slept well

> Did you wanna go get breakfast at the diner? I think I’m dying and only hashbrowns can fix me unfortunately

You wish you could say you weren’t affected– wish you could say you weren’t sitting there, waiting for a response. Heart beating out of your chest like a schoolgirl in love. It’s silly, isn’t it? What emotions can make you feel inside and out. How they can seem to affect every part of your being without even trying.

You suppose storms are the same way. Suppose all natural forces are– the sun, the moon, the stars. They all have their own cosmic power that distils someone at their very core. Leaving them waiting, abating in agony over a simple text back from the man you like.

You toss your phone to the side, choosing to get ready instead of imagining anymore fantasies. You live in reality, a woman of science. There’s no sense in trying to explain everything you feel, only accepting that you feel it.

Mmm. As you get dressed, you wonder how long you’ll be able to go on like that for.

[10:02] From: Poongie

> gm

> i already ate

Oh. You don’t like that. In fact, you hate it so much you want to start making a powerpoint presentation on how to text just for him. But, you give him the benefit of the doubt once more. Yoongi has never been a good texter, anyway. You’re lucky if you can get more than a two word reply from him. He prefers phone calls.

[10:03] To: Poongie

> So u hate me okay

> Come sit with me tho, I don’t want to look like a loser

> Meet me down there in 5 ;P

You give a soft smile as he reacts to your final text with a thumbs up. It doesn’t leave you feeling the best, but he’s not avoiding you entirely. And he never has been a morning person. Plus, he’s probably hungover too and doesn’t wanna look at his phone screen. You two are fine and last night was amazing. And soon you could make everything official.

Your smile grows. Yeah. Yeah, that all makes perfect sense.

You know what doesn’t? A lot of things, actually. Too many to count, but you try anyway.

One.

Yoongi walking in 10 minutes late acting like nothing happened. Like you didn’t happen. Just sliding into the seat across from yours, the thick plastic of the booth squeaking while he does so. His hands stuffed in his pants, nothing but a nod in your direction to acknowledge your existence. His face utterly blank, entirely neutral.

Never once has Yoongi greeted you with less than a gummy smile. A ruffle of your hair. A jab at your tired appearance. But you ignore it– ignore the sense of unease, of dread already building inside. He must really have a bad hangover, poor guy.

“Goodmorning!” You chirp brightly, a smile of a thousand suns cast in only his direction. Your usual greeting, of course. Maybe just a little extra chipper to balance him out. To try and prepare yourself, maybe to get a little excited for the conversation to come. Pull him out of any awkward tension he may be feeling.

“Goodmorning.” He simply replies back, his eyes following the waitress as she places a cup of coffee, extra sweet, in front of him. His usual order. Something you’d never forget. Something he knows you’d never forget, but the way he stares into the warm liquid says otherwise.

His eyes never stray from the cup, like he's thinking. Like he wants to say something but doesn’t quite know how. Like he isn’t sure whether to ignore it or bring it to light.

You know that look well, and you don’t want to ignore it.

Two.

He calls the waitress back and orders another coffee. Black.

He hates his coffee black. You know this. Everyone does. He hasn’t had the stuff since before he met you. You opened him to the world of how delicious sweet drinks can be. So why the hell is he planning on pretending to like something he doesn’t? It makes no sense to you– your expression shows it all. Eyebrows quirking together, lips pushing outwards slightly.

“Wow, the great Min Yoongi is changing up his order?” A creature of habit never does, you would know yourself, “Hangover that bad?”

You try to lighten the mood, raise the cloud that hangs above the booth. Or maybe it’s a cloud only you feel, you’re not sure. It doesn’t matter anyway, does it?

“Mmm, you could say that.” He grunts, his chin tucking ever so slightly to his chest. His tail curling closer. Almost defensive. Almost.

“God yeah,” The conversation feels stunted, and you hate that even more. “My head has been throbbing since I woke up. I don’t know if I drank too much or not enough.” The banter isn’t flowing as easily, and he curls in on himself even more. Almost like the mere mention of last night rings alarm bells in his mind.

Oh! Okay, yeah. Maybe he’s just nervous about everything that happened, you know? Maybe he’s worried that you don’t remember, or that you’re having different feelings about it. Maybe his brain is playing the same tricks on him that trickled into your consciousness that morning!

Yeah, okay. That makes so much more sense now that you think about it. You have to stop beating around the bush, just come out and say everything you think. Everything you feel and you can talk about it. You’ll just bring it up– he obviously isn’t going to, but then you’ll be in a relationship by the time your pancakes come out! Perfect!

Yet as you look up at him, find his face utterly void of anything, your confidence wanes.

Three.

He’s refusing to look at you. Another thing he never does. You’re always the one to avoid eye contact, never him. You’re always the one to stare out the window, not him. He normally looks at you. Normally basks in you.

You feel your mouth drying, all words becoming lost on your tongue the longer you stare at his disposition. You don’t break it as the silence becomes awkward, as he doesn’t try to do anything to fix it. Simply sips at his coffee. His disgusting coffee.

Drinks it until it empties. Until the pancakes now in front of you remain nearly untouched and cold. Until the world stops spinning and time freezes. As the comet hits and the world ends. As society descends into chaos yet you can’t do anything but look at him.

Okay, maybe you’re exaggerating. But that’s exactly how it feels for some strange reason. How it feels to be unable to reach him.

It isn’t until he grabs his coat, sliding $30 across the table that you finally gain the courage to speak. Finally blurt out the words sitting on the tip of your tongue for the last 20 minutes.

“We should talk about last night.” You didn’t expect to say anything honestly, shocked at the air leaving your lungs.

And finally, finally he looks at you. The diner is still frozen, yes, but now he’s looking at you and for some reason that’s all that matters.

A deep drag of air fills his lungs as he sags his shoulders, rigid disposition weakening in attempt to show signs of aloof. His tail gives everything away. Sharp and pointed. Unnerved.

“What is there to talk about?”

Oh.

“What?” You feel blood leave your face, “Everything. There’s everything to talk about.”

He sighs, his eyes almost rolling at your words. Everything he does is ten times louder. Ten times greater than any storm, any power in the entire universe.

Four.

“Listen, (Y/n). Last night was a mistake, okay?”

Oh.

Is it possible for the Earth to stop rotating around the sun? For the moon to find home in another planet? Is it possible for the rings of Saturn to disband, to crack and shatter, leaving the planet feeling hollow? No more than a gaseous ball floating around an unyielding core forcing it to stay together?

It has to be. Because if it’s possible for Yoongi to say those very words, say the very words that are able to rip your soul from your body, you think anything is.

You feel something in you crack. Something so fragile and innocent that you want to protect it with your everything. Run far and hide. Nurse it alone until it stops kicking and screaming for its unending pain to yield. For it to have rest in a world that only seems to take and take and take.

“What?” You don’t even care that your voice cracks.

He sighs again, his gaze dropping to the table. “I just don’t think there’s anything to talk about, okay?”

“There’s a lot to talk about.” Your eyebrows crinkle, your mouth moving into a frustrated frown. Red isn’t a colour you feel often, but your walls are up. Your bubble now a sphere frozen in time– a place with room for no one but you. Your body curled around that innocent glow. Protecting it. Keeping it warm. “For one, calling it a mistake.”

He’s rigid again too, maybe red glowing around his form as well. But you can’t seem to care. Not right now. Maybe not ever. Not able to sense the danger. The tail pointed in your direction. Venom dripping from his lips.

“Wasn’t it? We’re friends (Y/n). One stupid night shouldn’t change that shit.” It changes fucking everything. Especially with your pining. Especially with your heart on your sleeve. With your affections for him always oh-so-fucking obvious.

“Like hell it–” He cuts you off.

“We’re done with this conversation. Just forget last night ever happened.” He stands, not planning on waiting around anymore. Not waiting for you anymore. “Just act like it never did. Nothing has to change. We’re not talking about this anymore.”

With that he leaves without letting you speak. Without letting you talk. Shutting you down entirely in a way he never has before. In a way he promised he would never do to you. And for the first time since you discovered your crush on him, you feel something negative simmering for Min Yoongi.

Q/Hybrids_Humans

U/YGS_Min • posted 5y ago

Can Hybrids and Humans actually fall in love? -> Advice

> Hi. I’m new to this page so I might get things wrong with this post. Sorry in advance if I do.

> I am a Hybrid and I recently met a girl who I think is my mate. I get all the classic mate feelings someone does when I’m around her. When we first met, a few days ago in the library, I automatically felt a pull towards her. Like I needed to be close to her. Everything in my body, my hybrid side especially, was begging for me to make her my mate right away. She even complimented my tail. Does she even know what that means? What it did to me?

> After that, she gave me her number (I’m helping her with a few things) (we're both ‘in’ college) and I haven’t been able to stop thinking about her. Whenever I open my phone my brain automatically fries and moves to open her contact so I can text or call her. It actually feels a little crazy.

> She said she wants to be friends and I don’t know what my brain is going to do if we actually get closer.

>The issue is that she's human, though. So I already know she doesn’t feel the same way about me. She doesn’t feel the bond or the pull to get closer. And she already knows I’m a hybrid so there’s no way to avoid it.

> I’m also not the most friendly Hybrid, I guess. People don’t like my species. My mom doesn’t even like the way I was born. And I’m lucky enough to get away from where I was before and am living my own life now. Trying to do good things with it. Maybe be human with it, I don’t know. It doesn’t matter anyway.

> Point is, I’ve looked online and while I know legally it is possible to be mates with a human, I haven’t found anything about Human’s with more odd species. And I really just want to know if this could be possible, or if I should give up before things even start. She’s the prettiest person I’ve ever seen. Her mannerisms kill me– I love them. She’s so cute. And she acted like I was just like everyone else.

> I don’t know. I want her to be my mate. But I just want to know other peoples experiences. I know she’d never be able to love me in the way I automatically do her, but if I told her she was my mate would she feel forced into it? Would she feel like I actually care? Could she ever actually care? Should I do anything about it or just pretend that it was never there in the first place?

> I never thought my mate might be human. I never thought I'd find my mate. Any advice would be appreciated. Thanks.

6 am.

Yoongi isn’t sure if he’s slept. He’s not sure he’s ever slept with the exhaustion weighing on his bones. His consciousness. His very being. In fact, all he’s had is his thoughts as the hours have ticked by, unrelenting. Unwavering. As the sun starts to shine through the curtains and the reality of everything that transpired rushes to the surface. Past the alcohol. Past your adorable soft snores.

He had you. He fucked you. For one night, you belonged to him.

The first thing he felt after he held you in bed was peace. Complete and utter satisfaction with life, with you. Everything itching at him, pulling him towards you was, for once, content. He no longer felt the burning in his heart or the pulling at his skin to get you closer. The fuzziness in his brain whenever you smiled. All of it was gone. There was nothing but happiness in his being.

Nothing but the ideas of his dream being true. Of getting to hold you like this every night. Getting you to smile for him, only him. Getting to belong to you in ways humans could never understand.

In ways you could never understand.

Something else starts creeping into his consciousness, then. Something starting in the pit of his stomach, rising until it feels like he's choking. Until not even the scent of your shampoo can calm the race of his heart. Not even the pull of his tail drawing you closer to his body– his hybrid side trying to calm him down in ways it only knows how.

How could Yoongi let himself live in such a sick dream?

You’re a human. He’s a hybrid. You would never actually love him.

Your words were drunk– of course they were. Influenced by the alcohol and the idea of a warm body next to your own. Maybe you didn’t even realise it was him, maybe it could have been anyone and you would have been satisfied.

It’s such an ugly thing, the words he thinks. The ideas that form behind his skull, twisting and turning. Forming an amalgamation of tangles and death defying drops to nothingness. Of the reality of things, his reality that is. One where he’s worthless. One where you are the sun and he is nothing but an asteroid following the orbit of someone else.

Hybrids are never meant to be with humans.

He knows that for a fact. Has read all the history books, looked at all the articles, scoured for any sign that the two of you could be together in a society that hates him only to be left with mockery. Left with anonymous strangers telling him that scorpions are meant to kill. Meant to destroy. How could a human ever care about him when his entire life he’s been told it’s the worst parts of himself? How could you care about him?

Well, he knows that isn’t all true. He knows you care in some ways. But they aren’t mate ways and–

Fuck. Fuck Yoongi, he knows he’s not supposed to think of those things. He’s never allowed to think of you and that word together. He forbade himself of it. Promised himself it couldn’t be true. That he would never admit it to you or anyone else.

You are not his mate.

But you are.

But–

He wishes he could get his head to shut the fuck up for a fucking second so he could think. Think about anything other than those two words together, even if he knew them to be true from the moment he met you in the library. When he agreed to be your tutor. When he fell in love the moment you looked his way.

And even then he thought that maybe, just maybe if you didn’t know he was a hybrid he would have a chance. That if he could keep it hidden for long enough, if you saw him as a human and not a terrifying creature bred only to kill, that you could fall for him. That he could be your mate– boyfriend. That he could be your boyfriend.

But then you saw it. Saw the fucking thing he wishes he never had, wishes he could live without. The very thing he has been hated for his entire life. His genetic abnormality, originally bred to be used for attack, used by the government to kill. The very piece of his being he rejects time and time again to try and just feel a little more normal, a little more human. And you… you said you liked it.

And no, you didn’t have any clue what those words meant at the time. Of course you didn’t. Didn’t know what they implied– didn’t know the true meaning they held. The acceptance of courtship behind their very tone.

A nice tail to a human? Nothing. A nice tail to a scorpion? The very thing used by the hybrid to attract mates? To show their viability and strength as a partner? Everything.

In that moment, you were everything.

But you didn’t know the meaning behind those words. You didn’t love him the way he so implicitly did you. And while you accepted him as a friend, you would never accept him as more. He would never let you.

That night was the night he promised himself you weren’t his mate. Promised himself he had no mate.

Last night was the first time he ever broke it.

Last night he could have killed you.

You had his tail in your mouth. His tail. The tail that carries his venom. The venom bred into his cells meant to kill others. If he let any of it out by accident… if he…

Fuck.

The heaviness that realisation brings is what finally makes him get out of bed. Finally set in motion reality. Stop himself from living in whatever dream he was playing with. Stop playing house with a girl that would never be his. That would probably think the entirety of last night was a mistake.

Who gives a shit what you thought. He could’ve killed you. He could’ve killed his fucking mate.

Societally, he could’ve never had you. He wouldn’t have been able to live with himself if you had to face the same things he did on the daily. What others thought of you. What they would say about you if they saw you two together. What would happen with your kids. How much hate and fear you would receive by being with him.

He could sacrifice his own life for you a thousand times, but he would never let you do the same for him.

And last night. Last night his venom could’ve been your end.

He doesn’t need to think anymore. He knows what he’s going to do. Even if it hurts him. Even if the grenade is set to go off and destroy his very being, it’s worth it to keep you safe. To keep you content. To keep you away from him.

Best case, you don’t remember last night or don’t bring it up. Worst…

Yoongi knows the ship he’s boarding is bound to sink– that he’s destined to drown. But if it means your happiness, he’d do anything.

The car feels cold. The heat is blasting, but it still feels frozen. Decrepit. All fireplace memories hazing into ice as you ride next to him.

Him.

Fucking him.

Fucking Min Yoongi. The fucking asshole that tore your heart out and stomped on it. The fucking asshole that didn’t even have the decency to talk to you. To explain why the fuck he was being so cold. The fucking asshole that made you feel loved. Like you weren’t alone in the entire universe, only to make you realise you were trapped in a metal box– steaming. Bubbling.

Maybe you aren’t cold. No, you definitely aren’t. You’re steaming. Burning up– ready to explode at the slightest thing. Still a burning blaze because he didn’t fucking let you talk. Just shut you down without a second thought. Without fucking anything.

Not that he owes you anything– he doesn’t owe you a relationship. He doesn’t owe you love, of course not. You’re not dumb enough to think that. But you do know he owes you an explanation. A chance to speak. Years of friendship tell you that much.

Promises tell you that much.

And you can’t fucking stand broken promises. Can’t stand acting like strangers after years of friendship. After all the time spent together. After all of the memories formed, all the bonds created. You don’t deserve to be treated like nothing.

Hell, he probably wouldn’t have even come with you today if you hadn’t texted him. Probably assumed you’d rather go alone or with one of the other people on the crew. Probably– shut up, you decide in that moment to stop making excuses for him. To stop giving him the benefit of the doubt when he treated you as no less than a one-night-stand. A fuck that meant nothing.

Were fucking years of friendship just for that? Just so he could fuck you? This fucking–

You scoff to yourself, crossing your arms over your chest. Shaking your head. An outloud reaction to the continued spiral that started this morning, that will continue to brew until it inevitably boils over. Until the pot filled with too much water gets too hot and just boils over.

You never have been able to keep your opinions in. Open book pages laid out for the world to see. Another reason you’ve always been alone– should have stayed alone in your bubble.

“What?” Oh, he wants to talk to you now?

Your eyes shoot over to his figure from the corner of your eye. You can’t believe that yesterday you were smiling at him. You hate that today a piece of you still frets at the trapping of his fingers against the wheel. At his apparent aloof demeanour is automatically disillusioned by the simple movement indicating his nerves.

He always does that when he knows a big storm is coming– when he’s worried about safety, your safety. When he's concerned about whatever events are going to follow. A tick tick tick, fingers tapping delicately one after the other. Not a harsh grab against the wheel, not an unease of temperament. Yoongi, even when nervous or agitated, has always been gentle.

Well, every time except for this morning.

You roll your eyes.

As much as you hate how self destructive you become in times like these, you hate the bubbling feeling even more. Hate the strong emotion that floods your veins, the same one that makes you feel oh-so weak. The same one that makes you need to be strong. Need to be more.

Maybe you wish you could be more like Yoongi– be entirely unaffected by the strong feelings that permeate your being. Maybe you wish you could act as ‘chill’ as him. To separate how you feel from who you are. To be calm even if you want to be brash.

But you can’t. Not when it's about him. Never when it’s about him. Almost like a piece of you continues and will always pull you towards Min Yoongi.

You turn away from him, back to the laptop resting in your lap. “The PAR says a tornado is forming north-east. Head North so we can drop the doppler in the right position.”

“Mm.” He grunts. Doesn’t say anything. Doesn’t do anything.

You don’t know what you expect him to do anyway. You didn’t give him anything to work with. Yet it doesn’t seem thinking logically is on the table, and you can’t help but get more mad, more frustrated by the second.

“Are we really not going to talk about this?” You’re quiet, almost vulnerable when you ask the question. So quiet he might not even hear. Hanging on the precipice, two winds twisting against each other in equal strength.

Never have you felt this way about another person before. Dejection and anger weigh equally on the soul. You don’t quite know how to handle it. Don’t know how to combat what you’re feeling inside, just knowing the kettle is set to boil.

He doesn’t answer your question.

It was probably a bad idea to text him. Probably equally bad for him to answer and take you. An even worse idea to let the words slip out of your mouth without holding them back.

“Asshole.” The wind starts to pick up speed around the car, sucking you in. Pulling you deeping into the void. It’ll be no time at all before the tornado hits.

“What?” His head jerks backwards, chin tucking ever so slightly to his chest. His tail coiled firmly behind him, acting like it isn’t even there. Trying to pretend he isn't there, maybe.

“I said you’re a fucking asshole.” You can’t help the rumble that forms in your heart, the twisted words that spew from your mouth. The subtle ache from every insult you fling.

Almost like you’re attached to him. Like you’re attempting to sever a chain never meant to come undone.

“What the fuck?” Why he’s acting so scandalised, flinching at every word, leaves you almost confused. Almost. Because he has no reason to be confused, at least not in your eyes. Not in the storm's eyes either.

The rumble of thunder hammers outside, deeper into the freeze. Deeper into ash.

“I thought we were going to move past this, (Y/n). We need to be adults here.” He sighs that stupid fucking sigh that you hate. The same one he used in the diner. The same one he used to brush off your feelings. Your chance to speak.

Maybe later you would reflect on how selfish you’re being. Maybe later you would realise how childish you actually are acting. But right now all you can see is red. Right now all you can feel is a part of yourself trying to rip away.

Maybe later you would find out Yoongi is feeling the exact same thing.

But right now, right now all you see is red. All you hear is the beating of hail against the car roof, the image that it is your own heartbeat set in your own mind. Right now all you know is the soul crushing weight of the only man you ever loved pulling away.

Your soulmate– if such things were real, breaking the bond.

“Are you serious? I’m the one that needs to be the adult here? Me?” You scoff, indignant. “You’re the one playing pretend, acting like nothing happened!”

“I told you that we shouldn’t talk about it.”

“You said it was a mistake.” Your eyes are set firm in a glare pointed at him and no one but him. Petty and Spite are your new best friends. Congratulations! “Just tell me if you fucking regret it Yoongi, just tell me.”

“(Y/n).”

“Was it a drunk accident? Did you think I was someone else? Please! I rather you say fucking something than nothing at all! Please just let me be selfish for once! I’m begging for something! Anything!”

…

“We have a job to do. Focus on it rather than us.” You hate that he paused before he spoke, that it gave you some sort of hope. You hate even more that his tone has not once changed– settling from incredulous to neutral. Almost like he exists as nothing but a robot reciting lines. You hate it. You hate it. You hate it.

He makes you feel like a child throwing a tantrum. He makes it feel like your feelings mean nothing. Like everything you trusted him with was all for naught. Are you not expressing yourself well enough? Are you a complete idiot? What the fuck are you doing wrong?! What's wrong?!

“You’re serious?” The logical side of you says he’s right, your job is more important than anything else. But the piece of you falling apart, pulling away and leaving an empty hole inside feels otherwise. You’re convinced you’ve never felt any emotion other than frustration and annoyance.

The car rolls to a stop as a clearing hits– hail ceasing, wind slowing even if it's just a fraction. A calm before the storm. Where you’re meant to ‘dO yOuR jOb’-- fucking asshole. Does he really think you don’t know that? Does he really think that little of you?

“Fucking joke.” You can’t help the dry laugh that exits your lungs as you step out of the car. Your peace, the time you love to spend most in the world set askew, your feelings anything but. You love your time in the storms, but the tornado brewing inside casts a much larger shadow than the one overhead.

Your hands fumble as they move the DOW out of the trunk– an action you’ve done time and time again feeling entirely foreign. Your body clumsy as it carries it to the front, your mouth spewing annoyed half thoughts all the way.

“What?” Yoongi’s window is rolled down, his head leaning out of the front as he asks.

Your eyes circle your skull again, “Fucking joke!” You call, trying to set up the radar. Your body only half in the moment. Half in the clouds.

“This whole thing is one big joke!” You shout, foot kicking the dirt beneath your feet. The storm beginning to dissipate, a swell of rain forming behind your eyelids instead.

“(Y/n) are you serious?!” You hate that his own frustration feels like a punch to the gut.

“I have been this whole time!” You shout, brain finally working to kick the last pieces of the radar in place. In good time too, the wind is picking up again. The tornado will be coming soon.

“Are you?! Are we seriously not going to talk about this?!” Your voice doesn’t feel like your own. It feels foreign, like something deeper inside is speaking for you– like it’s taking control. “Am I seriously just a cheap fuck to you?! Was I really a mistake, Yoongi?! Please, please just tell me.”

“(Y/n), don’t do this to me…” Don’t do this to him? Don’t do this to him?! Does he realise what he’s doing to you? Does he even fucking care? You told him you want him! That nothing could keep you from him– and he doesn’t even have the decency to reject you properly.

Maybe you're the bad guy– the villain for forcing this. For the path of destruction it might cause. But you truly can’t stand this. And maybe, just for once, the consequences mean as little to you as getting swallowed by the storms you’ve always cared for.

Yoongi is your impossible, remember? “But it’s always been about you! Don’t you get that, Yoongi?! It’s always! Always been about you from the second I met you!” You yell, not holding back your shouts. Letting them echo with the thunder coursing through the skies, coursing through your veins. “I’m not asking you to love me! I’m not asking for any of that shit! I just want a rejection!”

What? What the hell are you saying? Why are you asking him to do that? Why are you asking him to do the one thing he can’t do?

He loves you. He loves you so much it keeps him up at night. That it infests his days like a parasite. You’re not asking him to love you? Are you crazy? Do you not see how he looks at you? Do you not see that you’re the person that’s hung all the stars in the night sky?

He can’t reject you. He can’t. His brain won’t let him form the words– his lips never to curl in the right shape to let them out. He can’t reject you because he doesn’t want to– because it would practically kill him to.

He loves you. You’re his mate.

Why couldn’t you just make this easy? Why couldn’t you reject him? Why did you have to look so broken this morning? Why did you like him back? What does it mean? What is he supposed to do? How is he supposed to keep fighting when he knows he could have you for himself, for real?

How is he supposed to protect you from him when it feels like he’s ripping a part of himself out when he tries to? He doesn’t want to hurt you. He never wanted to hurt you. He just wants to keep you safe. Why can’t you see that? Why can’t you understand that? Why can’t he just have you?

‘No one can keep me from you. You’re for me.’

Your words from last night ring in his ears. Existing as the only thing he can hear, the only thing that matters. Maybe it is. Maybe he’s wrong, maybe–

A sharp beeping suddenly penetrates his ears, a sound resonating from your laptop. A map laid out of the tornado's path.

It's formed– its body barrelling straight for you.

Yoongi looks scared, nervous. His tail uncurling from behind him. Reaching out the window, reaching out to you. “(Y/n)! Get in the car!”

“Shut up!” You’re not listening to him, not listening to a word he says, “I’m not even worth a rejection?! Our friendship means nothing, huh?”

“That’s not what I’m saying!” His breathing is accelerating, his heart rate going crazy. He needs to get to you. He needs to protect you. To get in the car and drive as fast and as far as he can so nothing bad happens. “Get in the car!”

“Why does it even matter if I do or not?!” You yell over the sounds of rushed winds, ignoring debris that begin to fly past. Ignoring everything but the man in front of you, just like you’ve done time and time again. “If I get in, you’re just going to pretend nothing happened! You’re going to– you’re going to–”

Tears begin to clog your vision, your words welling up in your throat. Scratching the inside, making you feel like you can’t breathe. Can’t think. Where you want to be strong, you are weak. And where you want to be weak, you feel strong. It’s a strange sort of feeling.

“I can’t just fucking pretend like nothing happened last night, Yoongi!” A sense of peace washes over you, a complete contrast to the storm surrounding, enveloping the world. Acting as a monster, not caring about your feelings, swallowing everything whole. You finally feel at peace, oddly enough.

“I can’t– I can’t just act like everything’s fine! I’ve always been so fucking shit at that, you know that!” You throw your arms up in defeat, standing right in the path of the storm. Almost ready to watch the tornado come into view, to become the storm yourself. “But it feels like– it feels like you’re killing a part of me! Like you’re, you’re pulling out a piece of my very being and I don’t know why! It doesn’t feel real! And I don’t know if I can live without it!”

What? It feels like– it feels like that for you?

Yoongi steps out of the car, his tail curling almost too pleased at his human side’s actions. If it was anyone else, they would think you’re crazy. They would think you’re just being manipulative without a care in the world– but to Yoongi, to hybrids, he knows exactly what you're talking about. He knows the exact same thing. Has felt it every day of his life since he decided he couldn’t have you.

The mate bond. The soulmate tie that will always lead two halves of a conjoined soul together over and over again.

You feel it. Humans aren’t meant to feel it but you do. You feel the same pull, the same bone crushing heartbreak upon rejection from your mate. The same– the same everything Yoongi feels.

He’s the one that's been hurting you like this, the one hurting himself by acting the same. In his bid for protection, he did the opposite. What kind of fucking mate is he? Why didn’t he just listen to the bond? Why didn’t he just let himself follow his heart?

Everything he’s dealt with in his past no longer carries any point. The comments under his stupid post to that stupid forum mean nothing. The words of his “family” are jack shit. The societal implications of him being less than human mean even less– you never saw him as less. His mate cares. His mate sees him.

This is what having a mate feels like? Yoongi thought he would never know. Never understand. But the warmth that feels him now, the subtle yearning he’s suppressed rises to the surface. His feet carrying him automatically, urging him to find you. To take care of you. To keep his mate safe.

“We have to go!” He rushes, his legs moving quickly to try and meet your form. To try and find you.

“No! No!” You shout, your foot stomping into the Earth. In any other scenario, he’d be shaking his head. Laugh at your antics. But right now, all he cares about is getting you to safety, and working on both of your communication skills. “I need you to tell me I’m a mistake! I need you to say I meant nothing!”

There you stand, arms open. Wind rushing past you, eyes closed yet looking straight ahead. You could never mean nothing, you mean everything. It’s his own stupid fault he ever let you think otherwise.

“I just said what I needed to say!” He shouts, his body finally meeting yours in the open field. His hands land on your shoulders, trying to ground you. Hair blowing around him, sticks flying past but never hitting the two of you. Almost like this needed to happen, like fate was set in stone for this very moment.

Your eyes slowly open, and Yoongi thinks the world freezes around him. Misty watersheds sit in your tearline, your eyebrows forming together in confusion with his words. Your lungs raising and falling quickly, chest panting with effort held back. Emotions yet to be unraveled.

If you feel the bond now, how long have you felt it? How confused you must’ve been. Yoongi feels awful.

“Wh-what?” Your voice cracks, cheeks warm and irises searching for an answer. What is he doing? Why is he saying this now? Why does some part of you feel whole again?

He doesn’t answer, doesn’t quite know how to articulate his words. But his body does. His body does what it’s been begging to do since he met you in that library. That he’s been holding back from every day of his stupid, (Y/n)-lacking life.

He leans in, his lips pressing against yours roughly. Trying to tell you all the words he never said, trying to put everything, all of him into one measly kiss. One that means something. One that tells the story of the two of you.

You, you can’t do anything but listen. Your eyes closing, your body returned whole. The piece of you pulling away settling back into your heart like stone. Warmth flooding your veins, home filling your very being. Making you feel safe, making you feel cared for.

And when he finally pulls away, you hear the words you’ve always longed to know, “I love you and I’m sorry.”

Yoongi feels free upon their utterance. A ball chain holding him back breaking– reality setting the world into motion once again. The earth that needs to keep spinning, that needs to keep the two of you afloat.

You should feel mad, but you can’t feel anything but peace. But feel like your soulmate has returned home from a voyage you would never understand.

Before anything else can be said, Yoongi snaps his head to the left. His eyes going wide as the winds begins to form in front of him. Looking as if they’re not moving. As if nothing is moving. “Fuck, fuck.”

He grabs your hand, pulling you back to the car as it starts to take focus in front of your mind, too. Fuzzy feeling fading, eyes going wide as you scramble from his door into your seat. He follows in quickly after you, not even thinking to buckle before taking off. Driving as if his life depends on it– your life depends on it, too.

Sticks flying past the windshield, hitting against the body. Thunderous roars of the world being consumed outside. A tail pressing against your frame, holding you steady. Keeping you in place.

It’s only when you come to safety that all the words needing to be said finally spill out from both of your mouths. When everything is set ‘right’ again instead of feeling oh-so-wrong. It’s only then that he explains everything. That he explains his logic, that he explains how hybrids have soulmates. Don’t forget the scolding he gave– the promises made to each other that the other would never do something so stupid again.

He knows you meant them.

He’ll never forget the way you smiled at him then. When the heaviness left the air and the freedom surrounding the car became almost overbearing. He wishes he could tattoo the places you playfully slapped into his arm. Where you scolded him for keeping this from you. When you told him you would never have a second thought about rejecting him.

When you told him you could never think of a life where he isn’t your mate.

“...Or boyfriend. Or partner. Whatever you wanna call it.”

You’ll never forget his gummy smile in that moment, when he has a possessive hand on your thigh.

“I don’t care. I just want to be yours.”

Wind wraps at your hair, blowing it– making it form into some beastly, monstrous thing around your head. Tangling your face, your eyes falling askew as it finds itself a messing around your very being. The howls of gusts form in his ears, sounding of ghosts that would haunt any normal person.

And Yoongi? He can’t help but think you look like an angel enthralled in the storm. One that came to earth. One that was meant to find him. One that was created just for him.

He can’t help but bask in you– bask in his mate as you live in your freedom, your happiness. Gets to be one of the lucky few finding sanctuary in your world. In your bubble made just for you.

He smiles to himself as he watches. Shakes his head like a stupid boy in stupid love that couldn’t be happier. He’s so happy.

He pulls his phone out of his pocket, opening a familiar app that he once looked to for advice all those years ago. Going to the same post he read the replies to over and over again– convincing himself that his impossible couldn’t be reality. He shakes his head as he reads them now, almost feeling foolish for believing him in the first place. Why should he have asked on a human forum anyway? It’s like he was asking to be let down.

As he scrolls, his thumb comes to a stop above a comment he’s never seen before— a recent one. Posted just a few months ago.

RMB_Joon

> Hey! This post is being talked about a lot on another forum specifically for hybrids! :-) I left the link for you as I think it would be a lot more helpful getting perspectives over there! :-) PM me if you ever want to talk.

Yoongi feels a curl of interest grow in his gut. Other hybrids? Interest in his post? He almost wants to know more. Almost wants to follow the inkling leading him to delve deeper into the world of others.

“Yoongi!!” You shout, waving his attention over to where you stand. And suddenly, he doesn’t care about anything else anymore. How could he when he has the whole world in front of him?

He chuckles to himself, marking his post as ‘resolved’ before tucking the device into his pocket. His legs catching into a jog, joining you at your side. Exactly where he should be. Where he’s meant to be.

⋆𐙚 WAHH THERE IT IS!!! I hope you all enjoyed <\\33 pls let me know any of your thoughts!! this is officially the longest fic I’ve ever written, and I put a lot of myself into this piece so I hope u all love it and it isn’t too skdhsksks yk?? MWAH ily © all rights reserved to ctrlhope 2019-2024 ; do not copy, plagiarise, or translate.

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ktownshizzle · 1 month ago

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Love & Lullabies | Part 4.5

✎ ˎˊ˗ Pairing: Min Yoongi x female Reader

✎ ˎˊ˗ Summary: What begins as a simple favor for your best friend Namjoon soon pulls you into the rhythms of Yoongi’s life—afternoons spent caring for his son, late nights filled with candid conversations, and a connection neither of you thought you needed. You’re just fresh out of a long-term relationship with an ex who didn’t want a family with you, so did you really just stumble into a life you’ve always dreamed of? (Thank god Namjoon isn’t the only one who’s clumsy.)

✎ ˎˊ˗ Alternatively: It’s 2025 and BTS is prepping for their comeback. All members seem to have gained muscle weight from their time at camp. But Min Yoongi has gained a different kind of weight—an 8-pound baby and a fuck-load of responsibility. (Thank god you’re there to help him.)

✎ ˎˊ˗ Genre: Fluff, Angst, Smut, idol!au, Acquaintances to Lovers, Reader is Namjoon’s bestie

✎ ˎˊ˗ Warnings: Yoongi is a DILF (!!!) That’s it.

✎ ˎˊ˗ Chapter warnings: porn with some plot kinda, this yoongi is very horny and is a very methodical masturbator (?) in the way he set the mood for himself (could be canon, amirite), let’s fix that boner you left him with, and let’s soothe your weary minds from that Dispatch article, POV switch after the article headline, idk if you know that one video of yoongi in d-day during the piano break in life goes on he does this thing with his tongue… it’s written in here somewhere

✎ ˎˊ˗ Word count: 1.5k

✎ ˎˊ˗ Posting date: December 15, 2024

✎ ˎˊ˗ A/N: Surprise! I kid you not, this was written within a span of like 8 hours? So if it sucks, that’s probably why, lol. Lucky for y’all I am too impatient to wait for notes milestones before I upload the next part, so here you go. 🎁 Also, @glossdebut, you know what you did. Enjoy, my lovelies~ 💕

Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Masterlist

“Fuck me…” Yoongi sighs, leaning further back into the computer chair. He runs both hands through his hair as the preliminary pinpricks of pleasure makes his cock spring to life under his sweatpants.

His phone is now propped on his half-empty coffee mug, of which the screen—maxed out in its brightness settings—is projecting the photo you sent through its 2x dynamic galaxy amoled display—of which his dick would personally like to thank his Samsung sponsors.

He is so horny he might just die if he doesn’t get off in the next five minutes.

It’s your fault. Of course, it is.

God you’re so fucking sexy, do you even know that? Do you even realize what you do to him? He is literally about to masturbate in his multi-million won worth studio to the pitiful pixels you have afforded him with.

He stands up, curses you under his breath as he pulls his pants down to pool around his ankles. He drops to his chair, about to slip a clammy hand inside his boxers when he decides to adjust the view juuuust a little, zooming the photo closer…closer… and that’s it.

Just the view he needs. (Sue him for having astigmatism.)

He grabs the aircon remote and adjusts the temp to a balmy 24 ‘cause it’d be hella annoying if he can’t get hard because his studio is an igloo.

Some velvety track with soft percussions filter out from his speakers.

A pump of lube from his hidden drawer, wet wipes at the ready for the inevitable clean up, and he’s off to the fuckin’ races.

His fist wraps the base of his cock, coating his entire shaft with the gel. It's cold, but it immediately warms up to his body temperature as his palm slides up and down his semi.

Greedy eyes rake your body on his phone screen. Your tits. They’re a vision. He can see just the ghost of your nipples, peaking in the slightest way against your silky top and suddenly his mouth is dry. What would they look like if they’re not hiding from him? For sure they’re puffy. Pretty jet-puffed marshmallows that he’s gonna be putting in his mouth and sucking until you’re falling apart and creaming with just that. He smirks. Yeah, he could do that.

He tugs at his cock faster, licking his bottom lip as he imagines the texture of your pebbled nipples against his tongue. He shivers, increasing the pace of his ministrations, cock now fully hard.

Back to the photo.

Huh. You knew what you were doing—squeezing your breast with your hand. The way the mound of flesh is about to spill over, and your areola is just kissing the edge of the fabric is actually killing him. It’s diabolical. Pure torture.

Had you been here, he’s scooping out that breast, the one you’re holding out to him, so it’s hanging generously from your top, wobbling as he bounces you on his fat dick.

He feels his eyes crossing, caught in the spell of the hypnotic movements playing out in his mind. He moves his hand faster, cock throbbing and aching for release.

But he’s not there yet.

Closing his eyes, Yoongi lets himself sink back into the memory, rewinding the moments from just hours ago. The sensation of your weight against him is the first thing he recalls—the way your ass fits so perfectly in his lap, warm and soft, like you were made to be there. The way your body had melted into his touch, so pliant, so eager, grinding slightly like you were inviting him to ruin you, and he was more than willing to oblige.

Your lips—he can still taste them if he focuses hard enough—sweet, intoxicating, like the lingering memory of his favorite whisky. And your neck, the way it arched so perfectly for him, leaving him no choice but to press his mouth against it, the faint hint of your skin still ghosting on his lips even now.

If he concentrates, he can almost smell you again, that sweet, delicate perfume that drove him insane. It’s like you’ve imprinted yourself on him. Or maybe it’s the faint traces of your scent that linger on his hoodie, the one you pressed yourself into while straddling him and he could feel the perfect ass against his crotch.

The thought is enough to send his pulse ticking faster, his head leaning back against the chair as a low, frustrated groan escapes him. He needs you. Fervently. Urgently. Needs you like he has never needed another person ever.

Jaw slack, tongue dangling from the corner of his mouth, he imagines licking your nipples from side to side and his mouth stretches into a smile. He can almost hear you moan oh yoongi and wow what an ego boost to have you unraveling for him when in reality it’s he who is actually unraveling in his own damn hands. His cock is getting heavier, balls tighter at his impending demise. He tugs and tugs, collecting some of the lube that gathered on the base and pushing it back towards his angry tip, concentrating his movements there.

You’re not in the room but you might as well be with the way your name keeps tumbling from his lips. He is whining like a little bitch in heat, but he doesn’t give a shit. He hasn’t had a satisfying jerk-off like this in a while. He can’t even remember sex being this good. Nothing remotely like the way this fog of lust has him ascending to another plane of existence right now, because you’re so fucking sexy and so good to him and he likes you so damn much and suddenly he’s coming, warm spurts of cum oozes from his throbbing cock decorating his fingers like the rings he used to wear to the knuckle, and fuck he’s still going, there’s so much and god dammit his boxers are soaked but it feels phenomenal.

Chest heaving as if he ran a marathon, he stares at his ceiling, waiting for his heart rate to slow down.

Not long after, he laughs at his stupidity, pulling a wipe from the packet and proceeds to clean up. He sobers up from his horny thoughts, but not by a whole lot. Not when the photo that started it all is still bright and beautiful from his phone. Shit. He cannot wait to fuck you for real.

Little did he know, something was gonna fuck him up come morning.

AllKpop Scoop:

Confirmed: SUGA of BTS Dating Actress Lee Sung Kyung

Eagle-eyed fans are convinced the duo has been hiding their relationship in plain sight, pointing to their undeniable chemistry during a past Suchwita episode, where sparks were reportedly flying between the two.

The story was everywhere. News sites, entertainment shows, gossip columns, social media—each one milking it for all it was worth.

Darling of the press, K-drama royalty, multi-awarded thespian Lee Sung Kyung, had resurfaced from her mysterious hiatus, and of course, the headlines couldn’t resist pairing her name with “infamous idol Min Yoongi.” You roll your eyes so far back your head they almost didn’t come back.

The South Korean media was having an absolute field day.

And as much as it hurt to see it, your first instinct wasn’t to dwell on the sting of the rumors. It was to scan every word, every post, every thread, checking if Haneul had been dragged into the mess.

Thankfully, he hadn’t been. You’d be devastated if your little sarang had been implicated in any of these stories. You don’t know the first thing about how to protect the poor baby from these trolls, but you will be damned if you don’t try.

The photo that sparked the frenzy was everywhere—a shot of Sung Kyung leaving Yoongi’s Hannam apartment. That was it. No Yoongi, no Haneul, not even a hint of context. Never mind that the building housed countless tenants or that there was zero proof they were together. It was enough to send the internet spiraling into speculation.

You were scrolling through the comments under one of the reposts, your stomach churning at the sheer creativity of the assumptions being thrown around, when your screen suddenly switched to an incoming call.

Yoongi.

You didn’t hesitate, swiping to pick up almost immediately.

“Sarang,” he starts, his voice soft and familiar, like he already knows he needs to tread lightly. Bro’s really starting with the buttering up.

“Where’s Han?” Was your first question.

“My parents drove him up to Daegu this morning. It’s better if he’s there for now.”

You let out a heavy sigh, rubbing your temple as you sit back. “Just answer one question, Yoongi: is it true or not?”

“It’s a big fuckin’ lie,” he says without missing a beat, his voice steady and firm. “None of it is true.”

“So it’s all bullshit?”

“YES.” he replies emphatically.

The tension in your shoulders eases slightly, and you exhale, nodding to yourself. This is fine for now. “Okay.”

“Okay?” There’s a note of uncertainty in his voice, like he wasn’t expecting you to let it go so easily.

“Yes. Just get your ass here by 7 and not a minute later.” You say, firm.

A pause. Then, with the faintest hint of a chuckle, he replies, “Yes, ma’am.”

A/N: So???? I don't know what that first part was. It just took a life of its own. Anyway, as per ush, please let me know what you thought about the chapter. Feedback is always appreciated. Thank you so much for reading this, you lovely, beautiful human xo

See you in the next half! :)

Permanent Taglist:

@wonh0oe @hyukaluve @glossdebut @kiki-zb @kookiewithluv

@agustblog @maryhopemei @perfectiondazesworld @kimsaerom @kam9404

@00-sleepdontweep-00 @tea4sykes @mggv97 @marnz1990

@whydoeyecare @pastelmin @tarahardcore @minjenna @chimmchimmm

@aaclariww @mar-lo-pap @tinytan-gerine @vesperbells @butterymin

@eve1633455 @baechugff @lilkittenjenjen @wobblewobble822 @coffeedepressionsoup

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@angellekookie @dearmyfavoritepeople-bts @hannahisnotblue @this-most-assuredly-counts

@no-jiminprotested

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bts-0t-7 · 10 months ago

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BTS | MYG | FIC RECS

This list is probably one of the longer ones cause sheesh... I'm a sucker for cats 😭 I hope you'll enjoy the fics as much as I have and don't forget to tell the authors how much you've liked their work!!

Have some spices 😌...

Three Tangerines, @kithtaehyung (smut, brother's best friend, implied age gap au)

Illicit Favours, @yoongiofmine (Fluff, tiny angst, smut, non idol au. Friends to Lovers)

Oh, Darling!, @yoongiofmine (Series, fluff, angst, smut, non idol au, university au)

Predator, @liveyun (gangster au, smut)

Apricity, @liveyun (arranged marriage au, strangers to lovers)

Petals, @yoonia (parenthood au, fluff)

The devil wears Valentino, @orchidyoonkook (One Shot, Spooky AU, Supernatural Creatures AU, Age Gap, Slice of Life, Angst, Smut, Fluff)

Sugar, @zehakoo (strangers to lovers, neighbours au, fluff, smut)

Peaches in bed, @borathae (Smut, married life!AU, domestic!AU)

Yoongi's Lullaby, @jiminrings (unrequited love friends to lovers soulmate au)

Snow Blanket, @yoonieper (friends to lovers, fluff, smut)

A Wager of Lords and Love, @hisunshiine (regency era au, arranged marriage au, s2l, fluff, smut, angst)

By The Time I've Figured Out What It's Worth, @ugh-yoongi (est. relationship, marriage au, angst, smut, fluff)

Bad Things, @yoonia (Brothel!au, Street Fighter!Yoongi, Escort!reader)

Close Call, @xjoonchildx (smut, mafia AU)

The Little Things, @kth1 (Smut, 21+, Slice of Life, One Shot)

Sweet Morning, @7ndipity (slightly suggestive, implied smut, implied drinking, swearing)

Shy, @7ndipity (smut, unprotected sex, soft dom-ish Yoongi)

Hello Soulmate, @bluemari23 (soulmate au, soulmarks, fluff)

Celestial Ruin, @remedyx (Fantasy, Angst, Smut, Corruption)

Carnal Desires, @explicit-tae (smut, stripper reader, mafia/gangster yoongi, grinding, finger sucking)

Moonlit Throne, @hobidreams (smut, angst, fluff)

Desolate, @angelicyoongie (angst, fluff, eventual smut)

The Perks of Being a Househusband, @sunnebeam (marriage au, crack, domesticity, yoongi in his stay-at-home hubs era)

Give It To Me, @ki-yomii (smut, dirty talk, oral (f receiving), praise kink, dom!yoongi, established relationship, pet names)

#yoongi x reader #yoongi x oc #yoongi x you #min yoongi x reader #min yoongi x you #min yoongi x oc #min yoongi x y/n #min yoongi series #min yoongi smut #yoongi scenarios #yoongi imagine #yoongi fluff

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dancinglikebutterflywings · 2 months ago

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F*ck Tradition | Yoongi

- Pairing: Min Yoongi x Fiancee!Reader - Requested by: No One - Synopsis: Y/N takes Yoongi with her to go wedding dress shopping because her fiancées opinion is the only one that matters. - Requests: Open for now. Please read my requesting guidelines before requesting. - Warnings: None - Word Count: 1,125 - this was meant to be a timestamp but turned into something longer. - Taglist: Open. Send an ask or fill out the Tag List Form.

Min Yoongi Masterlist | BTS Masterlist

"You should try it on," Yoongi suggests to his fiancée, noticing her stealing glances at the black wedding dress tucked away in the corner, far from the sea of traditional white gowns. It feels like the hundredth time she's looked at it since they arrived, and while Y/N might think she's being subtle, he can see her fascination as they wait for the consultant to help them.

"Try what on?" she asks, attempting to make her interest in the dress look less obvious as she focuses on her soon-to-be husband.

"The black dress that you can’t keep your eyes off," he grins, fully aware of her feelings. After all, he knows her better than anyone else. Leaning in a bit closer, he lowers his voice. "I can see it in your eyes, Y/N. You love that dress already."

"But wedding dresses are supposed to be white, right? Something traditional. What will people say if I choose that?" she asks, unsure.

"Who cares about other people’s opinions?" he replies confidently. "It’s our wedding day, mine and yours, and we can wear whatever we want. If that dress is the one you want, then wear it. Fuck tradition. We’re already breaking it."

Biting her bottom lip, Y/N glances back at the dress, its fabric shimmering subtly under the store's lights, the deep black hue contrasting beautifully with its white surroundings. It’s unlike anything she’s ever imagined, yet she finds herself drawn to it.

Before she can say anything, their consultant returns, "Sorry about that," she apologises for the wait, "Have any of the dresses caught your eye?"

"The black one over there," Yoongi replies, pointing to the dress while Y/N shakes her head in protest. She’s about to decline, but he gently stops her. "Just try it on and see how you feel in it."

Noticing the uncertainty in Y/N's eyes, the consultant adds, "Many of our brides are opting for non-traditional dresses these days. Just last week, we sold a lovely baby blue gown, and a dusty pink one a month ago."

Y/N glances between Yoongi and the consultant, her heart racing at the thought of stepping outside the traditional boundaries of what colour a wedding dress should be. The black dress, with its elegant silhouette and intricate lace and beading detailing continues to lure her in. But, the weight of tradition looms heavily in her mind, casting shadows of doubt.

"Okay," she finally concedes, her voice steadier now. "I’ll try it on."

The consultant beams, clapping her hands together in delight. "Wonderful! Let’s get you into that dress," she says and leads them to a more private fitting area before going back to get the dress.

As Y/N steps into the fitting room, her heart races with a mix of excitement and anxiety. She glances at Yoongi, who takes a seat on the couch, his expression a blend of encouragement and anticipation.

“Just remember,” he says, his voice steady, “this is about you and you get to wear whatever you feel comfortable in.”

Y/N nods, taking a deep breath as the consultant returns with the black dress draped over her arm. “Here we go!” the consultant smiles, “let's get you into the dress.”

A wave of excitement washes over Y/N as she follows the consultant into the cozy dressing room nearby. The thrill builds as she undresses, and the consultant assists her in putting on the dress. The cool fabric glides against her skin. As the consultant makes adjustments, Y/N catches a glimpse of herself in the mirror. The dress fits her curves beautifully, enhancing her figure in a way that feels both empowering and stunning. The lace flows elegantly down the dress, and the beadwork sparkles in the light. For a moment, she forgets about the traditional gowns she had considered.

“Wow,” she whispers, her voice soft. The reflection looking back at her is not just a bride; it’s a woman who feels confident and daring, ready to embrace one of the most significant days of her life.

“You look amazing!” the consultant praises, stepping back to take in the sight of the dress. “It fits you perfectly. We might not need to make any adjustments. It seems like it was made just for you.”

Y/N turns, her heart racing as she twirls slightly, the fabric swirling around her. A smile spreads across her face, the joy of the moment enveloping her.

“Shall we go show your future husband?” the consultant suggests.

Y/N's heart skips a beat at the thought of Yoongi seeing her in the dress. She nods eagerly, her excitement bubbling over.

The consultant leads her out of the dressing room, and to where Yoongi is still seated on the couch, waiting. Y/N takes a deep breath, trying to calm the fluttering in her stomach.

She gives Y/N a reassuring smile, and with a gentle nudge, she steps forward. “Ready to see your beautiful bride?” she asks, getting Yoongi’s attention.

Yoongi looks up from his phone, his expression turning from curiosity to awe in less than a second, and Y/N feels a rush of warmth flood her cheeks.

“Wow,” he breathes, his eyes widening as he takes in the sight of her in the black dress. “You look absolutely breathtaking.”

A shy smile spreads across Y/N’s face. “Do you really think so?” she asks, her voice tinged with disbelief and hope.

“More than anything,” he replies, standing up and stepping closer, his gaze never leaving her. To him, the dress reflects her personality—bold, elegant, and unapologetically herself. “That dress... it’s perfect for you. It’s like it was made for you,” he repeats the consultant’s words from earlier.

Y/N’s heart swells, and she can’t help but feel a surge of confidence.

The consultant watches the exchange with a satisfied smile. “I’ll let you two have a moment alone,” she says, stepping out of the room to give the couple some privacy.

Yoongi and Y/N share a look filled with love and excitement, and in that instant, all the stress and pressure of wedding planning fades away. Y/N can feel tears in her eyes as she stands before him. She takes a deep breath, trying to steady the emotions swirling within her. “Thank you,” she says, her voice barely above a whisper.

“For what?” he asks, reaching out to wipe away the tear that had fallen, as he steps even closer to her, being mindful not to step on the dress.

“Noticing me looking at the dress, convincing me to try it on,” she replies. “Knowing me better than anyone else.”

“So, this is the dress?” he asks.

“This is definitely the dress,” she confirms, smiling softly.

“You look so beautiful,” he says returning her smile and pulls her in for a kiss.

@staytiny2000 - @do-you-remember-summer-127 - @alexxavicry

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ysljoon · 6 months ago

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Whirlwind | MYG

♡pairing: min yoongi x reader

♡wc: 3.1k

♡genre: smut, enemies to lovers, forced proximity, non-idol AU

♡ warnings: unprotected sex, degradation, oral sex (f receiving)

♡summary: with a hurricane coming your way towards your state, your roommate provides a safe haven to the man you’ve despised for as long as you can remember.

MINORS DNI (have your age in your bio or you're getting blocked)

The grocery store was bustling with people getting ready to prepare for the hurricane that was set to land in your state by the end of the week. You always knew once hurricane season started you needed to get supplies to keep you stocked, but since you’re plagued with the disease of procrastination you have no choice but to do last minute shopping. At least you had the company of Park Jimin to help you with your grocery run.

Park Jimin has been a close friend of yours since high school and have stayed roommates even after your college years. He has been the biggest support system for you throughout the years and you have been the same for him.

Once you were done checking out at the store you made your way to the car to pack all your groceries away. There was already a steady drizzle of rain falling down from the sky and you sighed already imagining the flooding that was bound to come with the storm. Jimin decided to take over the role of driving back home. You thanked him and quietly slid into the passenger seat. Jimin had refrained from any conversation throughout this trip and it made you a little concerned for him. He is never one to shy away from conversation or saying what he thinks so this behavior leads you to believe that something is wrong.

“Hey Chim, is everything alright?” You glanced his way to see if his expression will give anything away, but his face didn’t even twitch.

“Yeah I’m good bub, I just have some stuff on my mind. Don’t mind me.” He sent you a small smile to try and placate your worries.

“Okay well you know I’ll always be here to listen whenever you’re ready.” You gave him a small squeeze to his shoulder and dropped the topic the rest of the drive home. The soft hum of the radio filled up the silence of the car ride.

Once at home the groceries were unpacked and put into their respective places in the fridge and pantry and Jimin stored the cases of water bottles in the garage. Without glancing your way he called your name softly to get your attention once he was back in the kitchen. You peered at him waiting to hear what he was going to ask.

“Can we talk once I’m out of the shower?” You nodded and retreated to your room to give him the space he needed to do.

Your mind started to sift through memories of the past weeks to see if it could give you any kind of hint as to what this conversation could be about. Is he going to move out? Did you do something to upset him and didn’t realize? The cogs were turning and anxiety was starting to make you feel a little queasy. The time that Jimin took to shower and change felt like it was stretching on for too long. You were about to get up and check on him when you heard tow soft knocks against your door before he opened it to let himself in.

He was changed into an oversized sleep shirt and sweatpants and his bare cheeks were slightly flushed from the hot shower. You patted the middle of the bed for him to sit down and get comfortable.

“What’s going on Jimin? Are you sure everything is okay?” He was wringing his fingers together

And his eyes shifted around the room as he was preparing himself to speak. “With the hurricane coming up, is it okay if a friend comes and stays with us until it passes? His town is directly in the path of the storm and his area is prone to flooding.” You stared at him with widened eyes and nodded without hesitation. Why was he so nervous about this? This wasn’t nearly as bad as all the scenarios that you came up with in your mind.

“Of course that’s okay Chim! Any friend of yours is a friend of mine. Don’t scare me like though again I thought you were dying or going to move out!” You stretched to give him a hug and he rubbed your back gently. With that being the end of the discussion he bid you goodnight with a tight lipped smile that you gave no mind to and he took himself back into his bedroom.

Okay -scratch that- there is one friend of Jimin’s that is not a friend of yours. That person is the one and only Min Yoongi. He has been a thorn in your side since Jimin has entered your life. He has never done anything that was genuinely that awful to you but it’s the way he speaks and carries himself with such an arrogant attitude that aggravates you.

When you saw him walk through the threshold of your front door with his duffel bag you instantly felt your blood start to bubble from the boiling rage you had in your body. The glare you sent Jimin was deadly and you motioned him to follow you into your room so you can tear him a new one talk.

“Park Jimin I don’t know if you suddenly have amnesia for the past 10 years, but I don’t know where you got the idea that Min Yoongi is allowed into our home! If I had known it was him that you were offering a place to stay I would’ve just let the hurricane take him away.” You were livid. Jimin took your hands in his to stop the gesticulating you were doing. With the way your hands were moving wildly he was afraid you would hit him.

“ I didn’t tell you because of that reason Y/N. I know you don’t like him, but this is only temporary. I told him to be on his best behavior, but if he really acts out I’ll send him to a hotel nearby if the weather isn’t too bad.” You let out an exasperated sigh, but had nothing else to add to the conversation that would make it productive. You stomped back out into the living room and refused to acknowledge Yoongi’s presence. Maybe if you just ignore that he’s in your home you can keep your sanity intact.

“Hey princess, can you sit somewhere else? This is gonna be my bed for the next couple of days.” You gritted your teeth hearing that god awful nickname Yoongi called you. He always said it in such a condescending tone that would get under your skin in the perfect way. “In case you forgot Yoongi,” his name rolled off your tongue with a sharp bite. “This is my home that you are a guest in. You don’t get to boss me around on what I can and cannot do in my home and my couch.” You continued scrolling on your phone hoping he would get the hint to leave you alone. Needless to say you were wrong. Instead he decided to plop himself down on the couch without a care that jostled your body. You glared at him and he met your gaze with a stupid fucking smirk. On top of this he started to unpack his duffel bag noisily, tugging on the zipper with a strong force. You got up from the couch with a huff and locked yourself in your room with a slam of your door. This was going to be a strenuous couple of days.

The next day you woke up and found Jimin and Yoongi working outside to put shutters around the windows. This blowing wind was starting to pick up but the humidity was still high in the air. You stepped outside and greeted Jimin while he was busy holding the ladder to keep Yoongi stabilized. You retreated to get two cups of cold water to give the boys and when you came back outside Yoongi was wiping the sweat off his face with the front of his t-shirt. The way the fabric rode up to expose his pale skin and toned back had you staring without even realizing. Jimin was suddenly clearing his throat and when your eyes landed on his face he was staring at you with a raised eyebrow. You looked back at the cups and handed them both to Jimin and headed back inside without a word.

When they finished the project of the shutters the sliding door opened and when you walked in Min Yoongi’s shirt was off. You stared at his abs that were just as toned as his back. When the hell did he get so fit? Even his biceps were much bigger than you ever remember them. Why do you even remember the size of his biceps?

“You seem to have a staring problem princess, keep that up and I might do something about it.” His low voice took you out of your daze and you scoffed at his comment. “You come anywhere near me Min and I’ll punch you into next week. Watch yourself.” You slid your eyes back on the Netflix show that had lost your interest minutes ago. He just snickered and walked into Jimin’s room to take a shower.

Once the door was locked Jimin stood in front of the TV blocking your view with his hand on his hips. “What’s up with the sudden ogling you have for Yoongs? You wanna fuck him or something?” This made you burst out in sarcastic laughter. “Get real Jimin. I wouldn’t even touch him with a 10 foot pole.” you rolled your eyes at the thought of even getting touched by Yoongi. “Whatever you say, but your actions are contradicting the bullshit that you’re trying to convince me with.” And with that Jimin stalked off into to kitchen for a quick snack.

Later in the evening the thunderstorm was booming with thunder and you could see peeks of lightning through the shutters. The combination of these conditions with the howling wind has led the power to go out. Jimin searched for the lantern in the garage to bring back some light into the home. You were left with Yoongi in the living room and no words were said between the two of you. It's for the best. Yoongi felt like breaking the silence first.

“You know, I never understood why you can’t stand me princess. I don’t think I’ve done anything to wrong you.” He studied his nails as he talked. “First issue already is that dumbass nickname that you won’t stop calling me even though I told you endless times that I hate it.” “Aw, but I think it suits you and your stuck up behavior.” He sneered and this made you meet his eyes with a fiery glare. “Go fuck yourself Min. You’re one to talk about other people’s behaviors when you walk around like an arrogant ass. You have some fucking nerve.” The tension in the room was rising to levels that made it feel stuffy. Why the hell is it taking Jimin so long to find the lantern? “You think you know everything about me princess, but you don’t even know how wrong you are!” His voice was rising as he got up from the couch and he was now towering above your seated figure. “Well if I’m so wrong why don’t you prove it to me that you’re not some self-important prick.”

As soon as those words came out of your mouth his lips were colliding with your own and his fingers grasped your chin to keep you in place. You kissed back with the same amount of fervor and gripped the front of his sweatshirt. As soon as you let out a whimper of desperation, you heard the garage door open notifying you both of Jimin’s returning presence. Yoongi pulled away at light speed and took his seat back on the couch to keep the distance between you two. “What did I miss?” Jimin looked between the two of you with confusion spread on his face. You ignored his curiosity and retreated into your room before he could detect the flush spread across your face.

Since the power was lost the house became hotter as the night progressed and the sweatshirt you had was discarded for a cropped tank top and nothing more than panties for the bottoms. Your handheld fan lost power an hour ago since you decided to have it on full blast instead of trying to conserve the power to have it last longer. The sheen of sweat was building up on your skin and you went to the garage to get yourself a bottle of water to help cool down.

You nearly jumped out of your skin when you opened the door and saw Yoongi’s figure in the garage too. “Christ, you scared the hell out of me!” You clutched your hand over your heart trying to calm your heart rate. You’re too frazzled to realize that you’re standing in front of Min Yoongi in just your panties and that he’s shirtless and only boxers. He smirked and slowly approached you. You pedaled backwards until your back hit the wall and was cornered by him. His eyes roamed over your body and smirked. “You know you drive my crazy princess?” You turned your face to the side to avoid eye contact, but his breath fanned your neck in the right way to make your heart race. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You murmured through pouted lips.

He took a small step back with his arms crossed over his chest. “Really? Because the way you were whimpering for me hours ago just from a kiss says otherwise.” You flushed at his words and you were again cornered by him. He slit his leg between yours and his thigh was just ghosting the already damp spot you have in your panties.”Well I can give you a little reminder and more to jog your memory.” He raised his thigh and planted his hands on your waist to keep you place. The sudden sensation has you gasping and rutting your hips to get more friction.

“Look at you, you’re like a bitch in heat rutting against my thigh. You’re so desperate for me already and I haven’t even done a thing princess. I can’t wait to fuck your shitty attitude out of you.” His words were starting to anger you. “Shut the fuck up!” You were too busy chasing your high to even want to give him the time of day to his taunting. To this, he swiftly removed his thigh and went back to standing straight. You were distressed and looked at him with wide eyes. What is wrong with him? “Yoongi what the fuck?” He wrapped his long, slender fingers around the column of your throat. “You think you deserve to fucking cum? With the way you’ve talked to me all these years I could edge you all fucking week. Don’t tempt me.” You shivered at his words. His fingers slithered in between your legs and pushed your panties to the side to tease your clit. You released a breathy moan and threw your head on his shoulder. “Tell me no right now and I’ll stop right now sweetheart. We won’t even have to talk about it ever again.” You shook your head against his shoulder. “I need words, that isn’t enough.” “I want you to fuck me Yoongi. Now stop talking and do something.” The desperation was so evident in your words and that’s all he needed to hear.

His dexterous fingers got to work and slipped into your sloppy cunt. The way his fingers pumped into you had your eyes rolling into the back of your head. “F-fuck Yoon right there!” Your thighs were shaking and your pussy fluttered the closer you were to your orgasm. At the last second you were about to cum Yoongi slipped out his fingers and slapped your pussy. You were panting now with how worked up you were.

“Take the panties off. Now.” You obliged with his words and his dark eyes made you even wetter if that was even possible because you are the most soaked you’ve ever been before. Nobody has ever made you feel as good as Yoongi is right now. Once your panties were off he dropped to his knees and stuffed his head between your legs. You propped up one of your feet on his thigh and he grabbed the back of your thighs to bring you closer. His lips wrapped around your clit and started sucking on it. Your moans were rising in volume and in pitch. His tongue dipping into your hole and licking your cunt made you feral. You gripped on to his hair and that sensation had him moaning against your core. That was enough to send you over the edge. You let out a strangled moan as you came all over his mouth. “Fuck, you taste so fucking good on my tongue.”

You didn’t even get a chance to regain your bearings before Yoongi's lips were on yours. The taste of him mixed with you had you groaning. His cock was straining against his boxers and he was rutting against your thigh and he nibbled on your lip and kissed you fervently. “Now you’re the bitch in heat on my thigh.” You chuckled, but Yoongi wasn’t in the mood for jokes at the moment. He stripped off his boxers and the sight of his thick cock had you drooling. He tapped the back of your thigh twice and instructed you to jump up. You followed his instructions and his hands gripped your thighs as he pressed you against the wall. He angled his cock against your entrance and bottomed out in one go. This had you screaming out in pleasure and your nails dragged against his back.

He fucked into you mercilessly and reveled in the sounds you made. Knowing he was making you feel this good and scream out inflated his ego beyond the atmosphere. “Tell me you’re only fucking mine.” He growled into your ear. You were so fucked out you could barely process his words. “Tell. Me. Princess.” He punctuated each word with a deep thrust that had you seeing stars. “F-fuck I’m only y-yours Yoongi! Only yours!” He grinned hearing this. The coil in your stomach snapped and brought you to your second orgasm of the night. “Who would’ve thought the bitch with the most to say would be creaming all over my fucking cock.” Yoongi was groaning through his words and his thrusts were starting to get sloppy. After a few more strokes he pumped your pussy full of his cum.

You both were out of breath and panting and you winced when his softening cock slipped out of you. You both suddenly jumped at the sudden knock against the garage door. Jimins voice rang through the other side. “I’m glad you’ve been able to reconcile, but you two are fucking loud!” You heard his footsteps fade away and you and Yoongi snickered at each other. Maybe Min Yoongi isn’t as bad after all.

#thebtswritersclub #min yoongi x reader #min yoongi x you #min yoongi x y/n #min yoongi fanfiction #min yoongi fanfic #bts fanfiction #bts fanfic #bts x reader #min yoongi #min yoongi smut #whirlwind au #suga x reader #suga x you #suga x y/n #suga fanfic #bts suga #suga

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yoongimedia · 2 months ago

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── ⟢ ・⸝⸝ scenarios with yoongi

being on your best friends wedding with your boyfriend who is sitting in the back watching you, cause your best friend is about to throw her bouquet for the not married girlies.

you being rather in the back, cause yoongi and you being just together for a year and never talked about marriage but your best friend wanted you to be behind her.

so there you are waiting for her to throw her bouquet of flowers, just standing there as the other girls are all eager to catch the flowers.

so when she throws her bouquet in the opposite direction of you, you are relieved and about to walk off when suddenly you catch the bouquet your eyes widen.

the girls must have been so eager that they accidentally thrown the flowers again and it landed in your hands. your eyes widen when your best friends comes exited to you jumping up and down. you cringe and turn around to see yoongi there sitting with his friends and laughing and clapping.

maybe he did want to propose to you after a year of being together and this was the sign for him.

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btsugarush · 1 year ago

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GANGSTA | myg - 004

summary: rough sex, blood money, drugs, and gang related activity; four things you never predicted to experience in your simple life. not until you opened your mouth and caught his attention.

pairings: gang leader!yoongi x f!reader

warnings: smut, gunplay, drugs, drug addiction, dark!yoongi, drug lord!yoongi, strong language, gang violence, blood and gore, murder, manipulation, possessive/obsessive behavior, abuse, cheating, angst, fluff, dubcon, implied noncon (not from yoongi but within his gang with his knowledge), 18+, minors dni.

word count: 3.5K

authors note: yes, it is here. it only took me 76 years lmao. y’all best give me all the love since y’all wanted to be on my ass about this mf. anyway, enjoy the drama. also this was prewritren with the tags a long time ago so if you no longer wanted to be tagged or if you’re new and wanted to be tagged i’m sorry. the taglist got full but i try to switch out who i tag every chapter.

“Now, are you sure you’re okay? I can personally file a report for you.” Mr. Kim asked for the 6th time. You roll your eyes, fed up with the badgering. You didn’t understand why he cared so much anyway. He was the one that refused to listen to you when you tried to explain why it wouldn’t be a great idea for you to deliver in Gongdan.

You didn’t go into detail about the assault, or even bother to mention Yoongi being the reason it didn’t escalate. You simply just stated to him that you were attacked and managed to slip free.

Luckily for you though, the old man’s guilt for the attack led him to giving you the rest of the day off and you snatched that offer up immediately. Not like he needed your assistance, seeing as the restaurant was practically dead with only about 4 customers. “I’m fine, Mr. Kim. I promise.” You assure him one last time. “Alright then. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“See you tomorrow.” You exit the shop, the door dinging as you do. You spot Mina’s car sitting in front of the restaurant, and she smiles cheerfully as you climb inside. “Hey. Thanks for picking me up so early.” You sigh, buckling your seatbelt. “No problem… But why am I picking you up so early? And…” she leans forward, peaking at your ripped shirt. “Why is your shirt ripped?”

You scratch your head, the thought of explaining the situation to Mina made your brain itch. “I had to deliver at the Devil’s playground again, and got attacked.” You kept it short and sweet. Mina’s eyes widened in shock. “What?! Was it that Yoongi guy again?!”

You shake your head. “It wasn’t him, it was this group of guys. Yoongi was actually the one that saved me…” you twiddle with your fingers as your mind wanders about the raven. Mina arches a brow at the gentleness in your voice. “He saved you?” You nod slowly in response. “My god, what does he expect from you now? Sexual favors?”

Of course Mina has to be the most dramatic and think the worst possible thought of everything. “No, he didn’t ask me for any favors. Which I guess is surprising for someone with his track record.” You admit, pulling your bottom lip between your teeth. Mina starts up the car, finally moving from the restaurant premises. “Please don’t tell me you’re buddy buddy with that thug now?”

You scoff, letting your eyes roll back. “Of course not! The guy is a criminal, and stalker. I’d never befriend him,” You argue, crossing your arms. Yoongi may have saved you, but you weren’t swayed by his heroic charm. “Anyway, enough about me and my shitty day, it’s too traumatic to talk about. Did you have a talk with Jin like I suggested?” You change the subject. Mina’s face drops at the mention of her boyfriend’s name. “Yeah, we talked for about 2 minutes before it all blew up. Now we’re not on speaking terms,” She sighs. “I think maybe I should break up with him…”

You frown. ‘There she goes being the most dramatic again…’

“Mina, don’t be so damn hasty all the time.” You try to reason with the blonde. “I’m not!” She defended herself. “I’m just tired, y/n. I’m tired of trying to figure him out. I’d rather break up with him before he breaks up with me.”

Mina had never been the girl to get her heart broken. In high school she was the one always doing the heart breaking, so you could tell that it genuinely killed her to love someone as much as she loved Jin, and not know where his head was at regarding their relationship. “I don’t know, Mina… I just know if I was in your shoes with Kookie, I’d try to work things out before I think of the worst possible outcome.”

Mina pouts, but she doesn’t continue to speak. Whether she wanted to admit it or not, you were right. She shouldn’t just jump the gun and break up with Jin. Although he was acting strangely and it was confusing the hell out of her. “You know… I’m jealous of your relationship with Kookie.” She suddenly blurts, causing you to turn to her with a raised brow. “Huh?”

“I’m jealous,” she repeats. “Of you and Jungkook.”

You tilt your head to the side, your eyebrows now scrunched in curiosity. “Why?”

Mina simply shrugs, sitting quietly for a couple of minutes before answering. “You two match, and have an unbeatable connection. You started off as best friends, which played in your favor. I met Jin in the hospital because he had a broken arm. We don’t have the history you and Jungkook have.”

You smile at the compliment towards your relationship, but quickly shake your head. “History isn’t everything. Some people marry their high school sweethearts and breakup. You and Seokjin just need to be mature– or you at least.” Mina whips her head in your direction, her brows furrowed. “What do you mean by ‘or you at least’?”

“I mean that sometimes you’re immature. You tend to freak out when things don’t go your way and storm off like a child.” Mina snarls. “I’m not immature.” She muttered to herself, practically proving your point. The car finally slows down in front of your apartment before coming to a complete stop. “Thanks for the ride again, Mina. I appreciate you.”

“Of course. I’m mature enough to pick up my best friend when she needs me.” She glares, your previous comment still not sitting well with her. You shake your head, paying no mind to her attitude. “Bye, Mina. I hope everything works out with Jin.” You pushed open the car door, climbing out.

“Yeah, you and me both.” She mutters her last words before she waits for you to close the car door, speeding off into the distance with you standing there to watch. You let out a sigh, shrugging. What was the point of her asking for your advice if she was always going to dislike what you had to say?

You turn on your heels, walking up the steps that lead to your building entrance. As you venture down the hall to your apartment, you spot a shaggy haired man placing a bouquet of flowers right in front of your front door. A smile forms your face as you see the one person you longed to see after such a horrendous experience. “Kookie?”

The brunette jumps slightly, your sudden appearance catching him off guard. Once he registers that it’s you, he smiles as well. “Well shit, I wanted to surprise you with something sweet when you got off. Guess that’s a fail.” He scratches the back of his neck, chuckling. You shake your head, instantly embracing him with a hug. “It’s not a fail. I’m so happy to see you.” Even though you pretty much talked on the phone with Jungkook everyday, it felt like you hadn’t seen him in weeks.

Jungkook’s tattooed arms wrap around your waist, returning your gentle embrace. “I’m happy to see you too, angel. What’re you doing home so early though? I thought you weren’t off till 8:00?”

You bit down on your bottom lip. You wanted to start crying right there just thinking about what almost happened to you today. You hadn’t told him about your trip to Gongdan yesterday because you didn’t want him to worry, but now you felt as though he deserved to know this time. “I got attacked today.” You take a step back, showing him your torn shirt. Jungkook looks down, dumbfounded at how he hadn’t clocked your ripped shirt when you first walked in.

“By who?!” He shouts. “If it was Yoongi and his gang I swear to god–”

You shush Jungkook, looking around to make sure none of your neighbors were in the hallway eavesdropping. “Let’s talk about this inside, okay?” The brunette is pissed, but he nods, awaiting for you to open your apartment door. He grabs the flowers from the floor as you dig through your purse for your key. ‘I really need to get a keychain for this thing," you thought, finally finding the piece of metal in your bag.

You open the door, and Jungkook wastes no time storming in. He places the flowers on your kitchen table, pulling out a chair for you to sit and explain yourself. Even though he was angry he still focused on your wellbeing. You close the door, unsure if you really wanted to recite the situation. Too late to change your mind now though.

You shuffle to the seat that Jungkook pulled out for you, plopping down. “So? Was it Yoongi’s doing?”

How do you even begin to explain all of this? Yes, but not really? While Yoongi was the reason you ended up in Gongdan, he isn’t the one that attacked you. But he has taken a weird interest in you ever since the Makoto showdown between you and his trusty stooge. If you told Jungkook that though, he'd just spend every moment trying to protect you and probably do something unnecessary to get himself hurt. You didn’t want that.

So, maybe it was best to embellish the truth a bit and leave Yoongi out of it.

“I had a delivery in Gongdan today. Jimin was out sick, and I was the only one that could deliver it. A group of guys attacked me on my way back to the restaurant.” Jungkook furrowed his eyebrows. “You had a delivery at the devil’s playground and you took it? What the hell were you thinking?”

“I was thinking that I had to do my job. I had no choice, Kookie. Mr. Kim wasn’t letting me out of it. Believe me, I tried.” The brunette scoffed, redirecting his anger to Mr. Kim. “I should go down there and kick that old man’s ass,” He muttered. Jungkook was never too fond of Mr. Kim. He thought the old man could be a bit misogynistic.

“Did they hurt you?” His voice is now more tender. You shook your head. “No. I’m fine,” You assure him. “The only thing that got hurt is my precious shirt.” You laugh a bit, trying to lighten the mood. “Did they just let you go? How’d you get free?” He pressed on.

“Umm…” you trail off, your thoughts once again wandering to the raven haired man.

“So Wonder Woman, you ready to accept that ride today?”

“They got scared off by someone that happened to be walking by. Lucky me, huh?”

Jungkook sighs smoothly, crouching down in front of your chair. He takes your hands in his, interlocking your fingers. “I’m glad you’re okay, y/n. I hate to know you experienced that and I wasn’t there.” He frowns, leering down at your hands. “Jungkook, you’re not gonna be able to be there for everything, and that’s okay. You’re here now, when I need you the most.”

Jungkook looks up at you. “And I’ll stay here.”

“Please remind me to stop letting you pick out movies. You always pick the cheesiest ones.” Jungkook grimaced as you two reached the end of your movie. You wiped stray tears from your eyes, glaring over at your soon-to-be boyfriend. “The Princess Diaries is a classic. I love it.” Jungkook snorts, shaking his head. “Yeah, well next time I’m picking the movie. Your selection sucks.”

You gasp, taking a pillow from the other end of the couch. “Take that back.” You cock the pillow, ready to deliver a blow. “Okay, okay. I’m sorry… that you’re ass at picking movies.” You swing the pillow down on him, and his hands go up in self defense as he laughs, his back landing on the couch cushions to better protect his face. You take this advantage to straddle the brunette’s waist, continuing your attack until he ultimately surrenders. “Okay, I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” You finally toss the pillow back down to the end of the couch, a victory smirk plastered on your face. “I knew you’d see it my way.”

“Hard not to when I’m being attacked by a pillow.” He looks up at you, still straddling his waist. Jungkook’s hands slowly roam up your legs, stopping to grip your hips. “You’re so beautiful, you know that?” Your cheeks heated up with the compliment, and you felt a sudden wave of warmth between your legs that made you anxious. This was it. There was no better time than this to lose your virginity to Jungkook.

You lean forward, pressing your lips to his pierced ones, the metal was cold against you; Jungkook didn’t hold back, or hesitate the moment your lips were against his. Your mouths moved in sync, but sloppily at the same time as though you both wanted it real bad– and you did. Jungkook’s hands moved from your hips, reaching back to cup your ass in his hands, giving your cheeks a squeeze.

You moaned softly into his mouth, rolling your hips over the rough fabric of his jeans until you felt his cock harden underneath you. Jungkook made sure to assist you, his hands pressing you down harder against his confined length. Your panties were soaked, and your mind was in a daze. You were sure that you had dampened his jeans by now. “Fuck, Y/n…” he muttered in between kisses. “We have to stop before I can’t stop.”

“Then don’t stop, I want this.” You whine, rolling your hips faster. Jungkook moans, eyes squeezing shut. “Fuck, I can’t.” He grabs your hips, forcing you to stop. You take the hint, but you can’t help the pang in your chest. Was there something wrong with you? You didn’t get it. What was he waiting for? You climb off of him, taking your place back on the couch.

It’s silent as Jungkook sits up on the couch, running his fingers through his hair. “Y/n…”

“Save it,” You cut him short. “You don’t want to have sex with me, I get it.” Jungkook shakes his head. “That’s not true. I do.” He argued. You scoff, rolling your eyes. “So then what’s the problem? I’m always practically giving signals that I’m ready and you’re holding back. You have never done that with any girl you’ve dated before me.”

“You’re not any girl I’ve dated before you.”

“Right, I’m y/n, the girl that’s been your best friend for years and the truth is that’s probably all you see me as.” Jungkook says nothing, he doesn’t even bother to argue because that’s just something he hates doing with you. “I uh… I should go.”

“Then go.” You snapped. Jungkook nods, standing up from the couch. As he walks to the front door, he looks back at you. You don’t look his way, you just continue to stare forward. “You’re not any girl I’ve dated before you.” He repeats; those are his final words before he opens the door and leaves.

Your eyes brim with tears as you finally turn, looking towards the table where Jungkook’s bouquet of flowers sat.

“Well well well, look who made a full recovery today.” You eye Jimin taking orders as you walk into Makoto. Jimin smiles at you, happy to see you in what felt like forever since you two worked together. “Y/n, it’s good to see you too.” He greets. You cross your arms, not in a greeting mood. “I have a bone to pick with you once you’re done here.” You say, walking back to the kitchen to clock in.

“Y/n, good afternoon. How are you feeling today?” Mr. Kim asks you as you grab an apron from the hook, tying the black fabric around your waist. “It’s a Monday, how am I supposed to be feeling?” You speak dreadfully. You barely got any sleep after what happened last night with Jungkook, and now you were at work. Jungkook hadn’t even called or texted you. Not that you wanted him to right now.

“Well, I meant everything that happened yesterday, how are you feeling today?” He reiterates. You grab a time card, swiping it through the clock. “I’m fine, Mr. Kim.” You walk past him, taking a notepad and pen from the cup holder. Jimin walks back into the kitchen, his face suddenly pale like he was ready to puke. Maybe he was sick.

“Hey, um, there’s someone out there at table three that’s requesting for you to take their order.” He says, scratching the back of his neck. You raise a skeptical brow. ‘Requesting me? Could it be Jungkook?’ You thought. Maybe he wanted to talk in person instead of over the phone. You didn’t see why he couldn’t have waited until your shift was over and come to your apartment, but you didn’t argue with the gesture.

“Okay…?” You walk out of the kitchen towards the dining area. As you scope out table three, you don’t see Jungkook, but in fact, Yoongi, Joon, and two other guys you don’t know. That’s why Jimin looked so sickly. You shake your head, sauntering over to their table. “What’re you doing here? Was yesterday not enough?” You snap at Yoongi.

“Nice to see you too,” the raven laughs, leaning back in his chair. “Yesterday is the reason I’m here in person, sweetheart. Wouldn’t want you getting your pretty self into any more trouble in my hood.” He smirked. “You remember my boy Joon, don’t you?”

“Wonder Woman, it’s good to see you again.” You glare at Joon, rolling your eyes. You didn’t have time for this. Yoongi was the last person you cared to see right now, and you definitely never wanted to see Nam-joon again. “So are you here to order something or are you here to be the bane of my existence?”

“Depends… are you on the menu?” He bites his bottom lip, looking you up and down. Joon, and Yoongi’s other two minions snicker and you’ve decided you’ve had enough of this pig fest. “Okay, goodbye.” You turn to head back to the kitchen, but Yoongi stops you by grabbing your wrist. “I’m just joking around, sweetheart. I’m here to ask you something.” You pull your wrist from his grip, turning back to face him. “Ask me what?”

“Well, I’m having this kickback at my place tonight. I want you to slide through.” You scrunch your eyebrows together in confusion. “What on earth would make you think I’d dare to step foot into Gongdan again? And what makes you think I’d go to your shifty ass warehouse?”

“Well, I just thought after my heroism the other day you would want to thank me more properly.” You scoffed. Mina was right. He was expecting some kind of sexual favor from you. “I knew it. You only helped because you thought you could use me later on. I should’ve expected that from someone like you.” You leave their table, making your way back towards the kitchen, but this time Yoongi stands up from his seat to follow you.

“Princess,” He stops you again, his hand grazing your waist, but he doesn’t fully touch you in a manner that came across as though he was trying to respect your boundaries–for once. He steps in front of you, blocking your way to the kitchen. “It’s not like that. I helped you because I wanted to.”

“Is that so? Because it truly didn’t seem like it just a second ago.” You snarled, crossing your arms. The raven makes a “tsk” sound before continuing on. “Sweetheart, if that’s all I wanted from you then I would’ve made you give it to me right there in the alleyway. Regardless of what happened,” His face was stone cold serious. He meant that. You stood silent, not knowing what to say next.

“Listen… sometimes I have these kickbacks, and they’re a vibe, but it would be better if I saw your pretty face there.” His voice is soft, so soft that you didn’t think someone like Yoongi could produce such a tone. “I don’t think it would be a good idea for me to take a bus through Gongdan at night.”

“So don’t. I’ll pick you up.”

You sigh, slowly feeling yourself ready to cave in and you didn’t know why. You literally could not stand this man. He was a stalker for fuck sakes. A criminal. And yet… here you were ready to accept his invitation because of one good gesture, and a sudden softness to his voice. Yoongi’s eyes search for yours until they lock, a smile forming his face. For a moment as you're looking into the raven’s eyes you begin to question is he really the monster he makes people believe? Or is that all for looks?

“Hey, can we get the check please?” A customer calls out. Your eyes snap away from Yoongi’s. You had almost forgotten you were at work. “Look, I have to get back to work. I’ll… I’ll let you know.” You take your notepad, writing down your phone number. As you rip the paper from the pad, you actually begin to question your sanity. You hand the paper to Yoongi, his lips tilting in a sly smirk as he takes it.

“I look forward to hearing from you, princess.”

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glossdebut · 5 hours ago

Text

everything i want (a take a bite drabble collection) | MYG

✧ PAIRING: yoongi x fem!reader (TAB!couple)

✧ GENRE: established relationship, fluff, smut, humor

✧ REQUEST: @joonary: hello my dear friend i am here to request something with dilf yoongi 😁 no other specifications go crazy and @beomcoups: I wanted to send you a request with Yoongi and you spend the day at the beach with this prompt "isn't that view beautiful"? It can be sfw or nsfw.

✧ SUMMARY: The best part of being with Yoongi, from the very beginning, was that nothing had to change for either of you. You could be married to Yoongi and to your job at the same time, build your career from the ground up and never sacrifice a thing. But this? Having a baby? It’s all going to be sacrifice. It won’t be just you and Yoongi anymore, living in your precious little workaholic love bubble. Everything is going to change.

✧ TAGS: pregnancy, different stages of pregnancy (conception, morning sickness, early labor, etc.), the smut is crazy but this is mostly soft, TAB!couple are in complete domestic bliss i fear, and they’re married!, yoongi and MC being each other’s voices of reason, TAB!yoongi’s murderous inner monologues make a comeback, rina cameo, baby penny <3, beach episode moment (warnings under the cut because… um…)

✧ WORDCOUNT: 7.6k words

✧ AUTHOR’S NOTE: blame MJ for this. and my m’lady anon for saying i’m always ovulating. *taps mic* min yoongi my womb is empty please call me.

P.S. thank you to tanni @yooniivrse for beta reading <3

P.P.S. i feel like this can maybe stand alone??? but parts of it might be confusing if you haven’t read take a bite in its entirety, so… do that, if you want!

✧ WARNINGS: vaginal fingering, oral (f. receiving), dirty talk, spanking, nipple play, hand/finger kink, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, yoongi calls reader a sl*t in bed but it is all extremely consensual, rough sex, unprotected sex (duh) (but wrap it before you tap it), creampie (double duh)

one —

Yoongi’s being a real good sport about it, but you know you’re being annoying.

Ever since both of you got home, you just… There are things that need to be done, okay? Like unloading the dishwasher. You can’t just leave that for tomorrow, that would be insane. And since you’re unloading the dishwasher, you might as well organize the kitchen cabinets. They’re a mess, and you’re putting away dishes anyway. Why postpone the inevitable?

And Pepper! Sweet, sweet Pepper. She needs to be fed, obviously. You’re not going to neglect your cat, are you? Your cat who has nobody else in the whole world aside from you and Yoongi? The two of you are responsible for a whole life—feline life! Feline life.

This doesn’t have anything to do with what Yoongi’s eomma said tonight. Absolutely not.

You are a grown woman. An award winning music journalist with a kickass career and a super hot, famous, rich man by your side. You’re not going to let Yoongi’s eomma get under your skin. You’re just fidgety. Who wouldn’t be after dinner with the in-laws?

You pause mid-kibble pour, staring down at the sparkly, significant thing wrapped around your finger. It’s been over a year, and sometimes you still can’t believe it’s true. Married. Husband and wife. Mr. and Mrs. Min.

The thought makes you relax, just a little. Yoongi is your better half in every sense. Your soulmate. And more than that, he has your back. There’s no reason why you can’t just tell him what you’ve been thinking. What you’ve been thinking for a long time now, really.

As if he can read your mind, your husband sidles up behind you, wrapping his arms around you as you finish feeding the cat.

“You wanna talk about it?” he murmurs against the back of your neck.

“No,” you huff, turning in his hold to loop your arms around his neck. “But I think we have to.”

Yoongi hums, dipping down to kiss you softly. “Okay. Let’s talk about it, then.”

With a sigh, you peel yourself away from your husband and head to the couch. This feels like a sitting down conversation. Yoongi sits next to you, pulling you into his body, your head on his shoulder.

“Y/N… You know it’s not a dealbreaker, right? Kids. You know that.”

Tilting your head up, you study his features.

Yoongi is usually so unshakeable. It’s rare that you see him truly nervous, not when it comes to you. Your relationship is so solid, you can’t remember the last time you saw him like this.

“Yoongi, of course I know that,” you assure him immediately, bringing a hand up to cup his cheek.

The two of you had the marriage-and-kids conversation not long after you moved in together. It was the logical thing to do, with how serious things were getting. The marriage part of the conversation was easy. Yeah, duh, you wanted to marry Min Yoongi one day. No shit.

The kids part, though? That was a little harder. At least for you.

You didn’t know if you wanted kids. The cons far outweighed the pros, especially where your work schedules were concerned, and at the time, you weren’t sure if that would ever change.

Yoongi was amenable about it, though. He wanted what you wanted. Kids, no kids, whatever. You’re pretty sure those were his exact words.

“I’m not freaking out because I think you’re gonna, like, leave me or something.”

“Okay,” he says, visibly relaxing. “Then why are you freaking out?”

“I don’t know!” you groan, pressing your face into his shoulder. “I don’t know.”

“Baby,” he huffs. “This is our decision, not my eomma’s. Nothing’s changed.”

That’s the thing. That’s why you’re so restless.

“Maybe…” Fuck, you can’t sit still for this. So you stand, hoping you can force the words out if you’re pacing. “Maybe things have changed.”

It would be funny, the way Yoongi’s mouth pops open in a little ‘o’, if you didn’t feel like you were about to throw up.

“I just—” You rub your hands over your face, exasperated. And then you’re stopping in front of him, jabbing your finger at his chest. “You’re really annoying, you know. Paternal. Every time I have to watch you play with your brother’s kid I really want to smack you.”

“Paternal?” Yoongi snorts. His hands catch yours, interlaced fingers pulling you to stand between his open legs.

“Paternal,” you sniff. “Stop looking at me like that.”

Of course, that only makes it worse. He looks so fond, even though you feel more and more like you’re dying as you speak. “How long have you been thinking about this?”

“You mean how long has this been plaguing me?” you grumble, earning a laugh from him.

“Yeah, sure,” Yoongi says as he looks up at you expectantly.

You look down at your joined hands, swinging them back and forth so the warm lamplight catches on your rings. “Since we got married, I guess.”

Yoongi squeezes your hands to catch your attention, quirking an eyebrow at you when you glance up. “That long?” he asks, his voice tinged with disbelief. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“I didn’t want to tell you until I was sure,” you mumble as your heart threatens to beat out of your chest.

“You’re telling me now,” he points out. He sounds a little unsteady, like he’s feeling just as jittery as you are, now that it’s all out in the open.

“Yeah,” you breathe. “I am.”

“You want a baby?”

You nod, bottom lip catching between your teeth. “I want a baby.”

Before you have a chance to react, Yoongi sits up, pulling you into a kiss with a hand on the back of your neck. Almost as soon as you melt into it, clambering into his lap as your lips slot with his, he’s pulling away.

“With me, right?” he teases, squawking indignantly when you pinch his sides in retaliation. “Yah, I’m just making sure!”

“Yes with you, asshole!”

two —

You feel a little stupid.

Maybe it’s because you don’t know how to act now. Nobody told you that planning to have a baby would suddenly put so much pressure on sex, but now here you are, standing in the kitchen in a too-tight dress while you try not to burn dinner.

You never cook. That’s Yoongi’s job. But you don’t know what else to do with all this restless energy, don’t know how else to initiate the ‘okay, I’m ready, knock me up’ conversation.

You’ve talked about the important things. You’ve dealt with the birth control issue. You’re taking, like, vitamins and shit now. All that’s left is to… actually try, right?

Except you’re nervous as hell, have been since you woke up to the notification from your cycle tracker informing you that you’re in your fucking ‘fertile window’ (ew!), and you’re suddenly acting like someone you don’t even recognize. Christ, you wonder if Yoongi has been feeling like this, too.

Speaking of Yoongi… He isn’t home yet, and for a moment, you think it’s not too late to just get rid of all of the evidence. Do away with the self-imposed theatrics, order some takeout, and act like it’s just another night. It’s not like Yoongi would mind.

But you’ve already committed to these stupid fucking steaks. And candles. There are candles.

It is too late, anyway. Almost as soon as the thought begins to form in your brain, you hear the sound of keys jangling and a lock turning, and then your future sperm donor himself is slipping his shoes off at the front door.

At least, he’s trying to. He’s got one socked foot out, frozen in his tracks as he takes in the scene before him.

“Did I forget an anniversary?”

You scoff, eyes rolling despite the nausea building inside you. “As if you’ve ever forgotten anything in your life.”

“Point made.” He kicks his shoes off the rest of the way, nodding his head in the direction of the candles on the table. “Wanna tell me what this is for, then?”

You shrug, poking at the steak sizzling in front of you with a pair of tongs. “I wanted to make you dinner.”

“You don’t do that,” he says, eyeing you suspiciously.

“Well, I felt like it tonight,” you huff in exasperation.

“Okay,” he says, rounding the counter. His eyes rake over your form shamelessly, now that he can see all of you. “And the dress?”

“A girl can’t dress up every now and then?”

“Hey,” he says, raising his hands in surrender. “Not complaining, believe me. Just curious.”

You know you’re being a little bit testy. Evasive. But it’s not your fault. Is there a good way to say ‘I did all of this because I want you to cum inside me tonight’? If there is, you haven’t found it.

Instead, you settle on, “I just felt like it.”

Yoongi hums, sliding behind you so he can wrap his arms around your middle. “Just felt like it, huh?” he mumbles. You can feel his lips on the back of your neck, and it’s dizzying how quickly your body reacts to his proximity. “No ulterior motives?”

“Nope,” you say. It sounds like bullshit, even to you. But how are you supposed to spin a convincing lie when your husband’s hands are on you? Hands that slide from hips to waist to tits as his mouth grows insistent at your nape, making you shiver.

“Shame,” he murmurs, nosing at the curve of your neck until his lips reach the shell of your ear. “I was hoping you wanted me to fuck a baby into you.”

“Fuck,” you breathe. Your legs are already growing wobbly beneath you, and he hasn’t even touched you. It’s pathetic, the way anxiety gives way to anticipation so easily.

Smoothly, Yoongi reaches in front of you to turn off the stove. It’s probably best that you skip dinner, anyway. Those steaks were going to be shit and you both know it.

You’re guided away from the stove, spun around so the small of your back is pressed against the kitchen counter. The room seems to shrink around you with the way you’re pinned under Yoongi’s gaze.

He kisses you, slow and deliberate, your legs growing even weaker at the way his lips slide against yours. You get lost in it for a moment, reveling in the way his body molds to yours as his tongue teases at the seam of your lips. But then he pulls away.

“Why don’t you tell me the truth?” His hands slide down your body to knead your ass roughly, causing the hem of your dress to ride up. “What does my girl want, hm?”

“Yoongi,” you whine, desperate as you reach down to palm him through his jeans.

“Nuh-uh,” he chastises, voice laced with amusement. He grabs hold of your wrist, bringing it up to his lips to press a gentle kiss against your skin. “You’ve just gotta ask, beautiful. You know I’ll give you what you need. I’m not a mind reader, though.”

Annoying. Also patently untrue, but whatever. The point of all of this—the dress, the candles, the dinner attempt—was that you wouldn’t have to say it. But of course, Yoongi never makes things easy for you.

“You already know, though,” you huff. “Don’t be mean.”

Yoongi huffs a laugh, fingers skating teasingly along the hem of your dress. “Okay, baby,” he concedes. “I’ll be nice.”

And then his hand slips under your dress, only to find that you’ve foregone panties for the night. “Shit,” he groans. “You’re gonna kill me.”

The anticipation of the day has left you dripping for him, the pads of his fingers sliding along your cunt with ease. You gasp when he thrusts two digits into you, moan when they curl against your front wall, the sensation sending you climbing up the counter.

“This?” he murmurs against your lips. “This is what you want?”

Suddenly, all of your anxiety from the day washes away. It’s stupid, you realize, to be so scared of just telling him everything you want. He loves when you tell him what you want, loves to be the one to fulfil every single one of your wishes. And right now, while your husband’s fingers fuck into your pussy in the middle of your kitchen, all you want is—

“Fuck me. Please, Yoongi. Need you to fuck me.”

“Yeah?” he growls. “Why?”

“B-because,” you whimper, cheeks flushing as you finally say the words. “W-wanna make a baby with you, wan’ you to give me a baby.”

“Fuck,” Yoongi hisses, nipping at your jaw. The pace of his fingers is slow and steady as heat crawls up your spine. You cry out when his thumb begins to circle your clit, your eyes rolling back in your head at the sensation. “There’s my good girl. I’ll give you what you need, baby, I promise. Just cum for me first.”

He doesn’t have to tell you twice. You’re so fucking wound up, and his fingers feel so good pumping in and out of you, it was only a matter of time before you unraveled for him.

Wetness gushes around Yoongi’s fingers, the filthy squelch of his ministrations filling your ears. You don’t have it in you to be embarrassed by it. Not when you’re this close. Before you know it, your orgasm is washing over you, leaving you clenching helplessly around his fingers as he mumbles praise into your neck.

“Shit,” you breathe.

Gently, Yoongi withdraws his fingers. “Feel good?”

With a giggle, you nod, pressing a soft kiss to his lips. “Mm. We really need to stop using our kitchen for non-kitchen related activities, though.”

“Nah,” he chuckles. “Where’s the fun in that?”

As you catch your breath, you start to feel antsy due to the silence that settles between you two. Everything’s out in the open now, isn’t it?

As if he can sense the shift in your energy, Yoongi presses his forehead against yours, rubbing his hand down your back. “You’re in your head again.”

“I’m sorry,” you mumble, pouting.

“Don’t apologize,” Yoongi murmurs softly. “Just tell me what's wrong.”

You take a shaky breath, closing your eyes for a moment. Better out than in, you suppose.

“I just… There’s all this pressure now that we’re trying to have a baby. I guess I’m just worried we’re not… doing this right.”

“Right?” he repeats, raising an eyebrow at you.

“Like… It’s a big deal, isn’t it?” you say, glancing at your forgotten steaks further down on the counter. “Shouldn’t we treat it like one?”

Yoongi pulls back, eyes widening in understanding. “So… The dress and the dinner.”

“Yeah.”

There’s a pause, and you can’t help but squirm as he studies you for a moment. You desperately wish you knew what he was thinking, but you know Yoongi. He chooses his words carefully, always.

“Do you want to do things differently?” he finally asks.

Huh.

“What?”

Yoongi grins, chuckling as he reaches to intertwine your fingers with his. “Y/N,” he starts, squeezing your hand. “You are the woman of my dreams. It doesn’t matter when or where or how it happens, our baby is going to be made with love no matter what.”

Your heart pangs at that, lips twisting in a contemplative frown as you consider his words. Damn him for making so much fucking sense all the time.

“If you want to do the dinner and the candles and the rose petals and everything else, we can do that,” Yoongi says, pausing to kiss your nose. “I’ll take my time, fuck you nice and slow. Anything you want.

“But I don’t want you to feel nervous about this,” he murmurs, pressing more kisses into your skin until he’s nosing the underside of your jaw. “I could bend you over this counter and fuck you right here, and we’d still be doing things right, as long as it feels right to you.”

Yoongi’s right. You’ve been building up all of these unrealistic expectations for how this night should go, and for no reason. The anxiety that had built a home in the pit of your stomach gives way to something hotter, your eyes fluttering shut as his breath ghosts over your skin.

“I’m sorry,” you sigh, tangling your fingers in his hair as he mouths at your neck. “I don’t want anything to change.”

“Quit apologizing,” he chastises with a bite to your skin that makes you gasp. “You know what you want. Always so good at telling me, too. So tell me.”

Here goes nothing.

“I want you to take off my dress,” you breathe. It feels like a good place to start.

Tongue darting out to lick his lips, Yoongi’s gaze roves over your body. “Yeah,” he agrees. “Bedroom? Or here?”

“Bedroom,” you say, gently pushing him out of your space so you can hop off the counter.

You barely get a chance to steady yourself before Yoongi’s grabbing hold of your hand. You can’t help but giggle at his eagerness as he drags you out of the kitchen, pausing only to blow out the candles you’d lit earlier.

Once he gets you to the bedroom, Yoongi spins you around so you’re facing away from him. You feel the evidence of his arousal against the curve of your ass as he slowly unzips your dress.

“So fucking pretty,” he murmurs, his breath warm against the back of your neck as your dress drops and pools at your feet. His hands roam over your body, squeezing and caressing everywhere he can reach. “How did I get so lucky, hm?”

Turning in his hold, you loop your arms around his neck with a cheeky smile, your naked form pressed against his clothed one. “Through a mutual disdain for square dancing, if I recall correctly.”

Yoongi laughs at that, gummy smile in full force even as he shamelessly fondles your breasts. “You don’t recall correctly,” he teases. “I had to put in a lot of work after that to actually get you, remember?”

How far you’ve both come since then. No more tortured longing. No more misunderstandings. No more fear of taking the leap. All that remains between you now is love. Plain and simple.

“You had me from day one,” you insist, fondness swelling in your chest. “I didn’t stand a chance.”

It’s so gratifying, witnessing the way you can still fluster your husband after all this time. With pink cheeks, Yoongi ducks his head, attempting to hide a shy smile. “Aw,” he coos, wrapping his arms around your waist. “Do you love me or something?”

Snorting, you bite back a grin. “I do. Very much. And you love me.”

Yoongi hums in agreement. An errant squeeze to your ass, as casual as it may be, reminds you of where you are. Heat floods you all over again, a delicious shiver wracking your body at the reminder of what you’re about to do. As head over heels as you may be for Yoongi, you’d really like to get his cock inside you sometime this year.

You catch his gaze, raising a challenging eyebrow at him.

“But you can fuck me like you don’t,” you offer.

In an instant, the softness in Yoongi’s eyes shifts into something else entirely. His tongue darts out to wet his lips, his grip on your ass tightening.

“You’re sure?” he asks, voice so low and gravelly that your cunt clenches in response. You know him well enough to know that he’s giving you one last out, that his control is likely hanging by a thread.

But fuck, you want it. Want to be fucked within an inch of your life, because who knows the next opportunity you’ll have to get it like that once you’re with child?

“I can handle it.”

Yoongi scans your features for a moment, taking in your flushed cheeks and parted lips. The way your body responds to him without a second thought, willing to take anything he wants to give you. If he’s looking for uncertainty, he isn’t going to find any. Not anymore.

He must be satisfied with what he finds, because before you can react, you’re suddenly on your back, gasping as you’re enveloped in memory foam.

“Spread your legs, baby,” Yoongi says, his hands on your knees roughly guiding your legs to part nice and wide so he can settle between them. “Show me that pretty cunt of yours.”

“Yoongi,” you whimper, fingers instinctively threading into his hair. It’s getting so long lately, so pullable. You might kill him if he tries to cut it anytime soon. “Want your cock, you don’t have to—“

Your pleas are effectively halted when Yoongi spreads your folds with his thumbs, looking up at you with eyes that are all pupil. “You’re this wet for me, and you think I’m not gonna get my mouth on you?”

He doesn’t give you a chance to respond, surging forward to lick a broad stripe over your pussy. You cry out, back arching and hips kicking off the bed when his tongue flicks against your oversensitive clit.

“Fucking dripping,” Yoongi groans appreciatively. “Holy shit, Y/N.”

The whine that escapes you is pathetic, embarrassment and arousal warring inside you as you rock your hips forward. Luckily, Yoongi gets the hint, dipping down again to swirl his tongue over you.

It’s filthy and loud, the way he sucks and slurps at your pussy like he’s starving for it, can’t get enough. It doesn’t take long before your second orgasm is barreling towards you, thighs trembling on either side of his head as you squirm under him.

“Yoongi, fuck,” you mewl as he laves over your aching cunt, tugging hard at the strands of dark hair caught between your fingers to keep him from pulling away. “I’m gonna cum, like, any second.”

Yoongi hums, tongue lashing at your clit at a pace that almost drives you up the bed. Everything feels so fucking good, so overwhelming, that you can’t hold back any longer.

You cum hard, a litany of curses and moans falling from your lips as Yoongi works you through it, only letting up when your hands push weakly at his head.

“You’re so worked up, baby,” he teases, although the way he palms himself through his jeans as he climbs over you tells you he’s just as turned on as you are. “You want my cum that bad?”

Your pussy flutters at his words, silently begging to be filled. Fuck. It doesn’t surprise you that your husband knows how to read your body this well, knows exactly how to push all of your buttons, but it still drives you crazy all the same.

“You’re worked up, too,” you huff as you snake your hand under his, feeling the way his erection strains against his jeans. He’s so fucking hard.

“Of course I am,” he agrees, chuckling at your impatience. He pulls his shirt over his head as he speaks, moving to deal with his jeans next. “I’ve got my girl cumming so easily for me, begging for my cock. Why wouldn’t I be worked up?”

“Then fucking do something about it,” you whine, mouth watering when his cock springs free in front of you. You need him inside you yesterday.

In a flash, you’re flipped over roughly so you’re flat on your stomach.

“So fucking impatient,” Yoongi growls, delivering a sharp slap to your ass that makes you moan.

You feel the heat of his hand dip between your thighs, fingers sliding over your slippery folds, and you can’t help but push your ass back against his touch, knees spreading as wide as they’ll go.

“Look at you. You’re desperate for it.” He sounds almost amazed. You whimper when he slides his fingers from your core, replacing them with the blunt head of his cock. “Well since you wanna act like a slut, I guess I have to fuck you like one, hm?”

Yes. Fucking. Please.

“Please,” you breathe, arching your back prettily for him, wiggling your hips in a way that makes him hiss. “Want it, please.”

Yoongi teases you for a moment, rubbing his tip through your soaked folds, but then the warmth of his body disappears from behind you. “Nah. I changed my mind,” he finally says, smacking your ass once more. “Turn over. I wanna see your face when I cum inside this pussy.”

Oh.

You’ve never moved so fucking fast in your life. Within seconds you’re on your back, and Yoongi doesn’t waste any time either, slotting his body between your legs with ease. You both moan when he finally slides into you, one of his hands coming up to cradle your face.

Yoongi’s always been so patient, much more patient than you. He gives you time to adjust to the stretch of him, his thumb sweetly caressing your cheek as you look into each other's eyes.

But that’s pretty much all the grace you get.

Once he’s sure you’re ready, the first snap of his hips has you reeling, your eyes rolling back in your head. And then he’s fucking you for real, setting a pace that has you crying out his name.

“Fuckin’ love being inside you,” he grunts, his eyes fixed on where your bodies meet so he can watch the way his cock slides in and out of you. “Pussy was made for me, wasn’t it, baby?”

You don’t think you could speak if you tried, too high on the feeling of Yoongi’s cock hitting that place inside you that makes you see stars. Instead, you turn your head, craning your neck until you can get the thumb that was rubbing your cheek into your mouth.

You love Yoongi’s hands. Love how strong and capable they are, love how gentle they can be even when he’s fucking you this hard. You could live and die with Yoongi’s fingers in your mouth and you’d be a happy, happy woman.

Yoongi groans, his thrusts growing rougher as you wrap your lips around his thumb and suck. “There’s my good girl,” he praises. “Fuck, you’re so pretty, baby.”

You preen at the praise, looking up at him through your lashes as you moan around the digit. But then Yoongi’s using his free hand to hitch your leg around his hip, driving his cock even deeper into you somehow, and you’re pulling off of his thumb with a sob.

“Yoongi! F-fuck, it’s too much—”

“You begged for this,” he growls. His thumb, slick with your spit, travels down to circle a nipple, your breath getting caught in your throat when he adds his forefinger and pinches. “You said you could handle it. So take it.”

He keeps fucking into you, rough and relentless, and even though you’ve been reduced to a sobbing mess, it feels so fucking good. So you do what he says and take what he’s giving you.

Satisfied, Yoongi dips down to lave his tongue over your other nipple, sucking it into his mouth as your hands fly to grasp at his hair.

“Nnnghh, Y-yoongi,” you moan. “Feels so g-good.”

With one final flick of his tongue against your breast, he comes back up to kiss you, his mouth moving against yours with an urgency that takes your breath away.

“I love you,” he murmurs against your lips, pressing his forehead against yours. His hands come up to cradle your face again, wiping errant tears from your cheeks. “Love you so much.”

“Love you too,” you sob, using the much-needed reprieve to catch your breath.

“Taking me so good,” he breathes, thrusts growing erratic as he pants against your mouth. “Can’t wait to give you a baby.”

You moan, clenching around him in response. “Need you to cum,” you pant, delirious. “Please, Yoongi, wan’ you to fill me up.”

“Fuck,” he moans, eyes squeezing shut as if he’s pained. “‘M gonna. Gonna fill you up so good, baby. Do me a favor and rub your clit for me, m’kay my love?”

You do as you’re told, slipping a hand between your sweaty bodies. It’s not going to take much at this point, not with how desperate he looks above you. He’s a fucking sight for sore eyes, lips bitten and pupils blown as he tracks the movement of your hand.

“Shit, you’re so sexy,” he groans. “Gonna cum.”

You’re right there with him, both of you moving in perfect synchrony as you chase your release. All it takes is a few passes of your fingers over your clit before your vision goes white, a sob escaping your throat as you feel Yoongi spill into you with a groan.

You cling to him, arms wrapped around his neck as he presses sloppy kisses to your naked shoulder. “God,” you breathe, thighs shaking when you stretch your legs out.

You both gasp for breath, skin sticking together from the sweat that’s been created between you.

“Yoongi?” you mumble. He hums, lifting his head to look down at you. “Thank you.”

“For what?” he asks, brows furrowing in confusion. Then, he grins tiredly. “For giving you the creampie of the century?”

“Ew,” you huff, flicking his forehead weakly. “No, idiot. For getting me out of my head.”

You know he knows what you mean. That’s what you do for each other. Yoongi knows how to calm you down like no one else, and you know you do the same for him. It’s a perfect give and take.

“I don’t know if this will be… If this is the time that’s gonna give us a baby,” you continue, lips twisting as your eyes water slightly. “But I can’t imagine a better man to be the father of my child. I just want you to know that.”

Yoongi softens, taking in your words. Wordlessly, he dips down, eyes fluttering shut as he kisses you tenderly.

“You are the most incredible woman I’ve ever met,” he says, his voice gentle. “I wouldn’t want to do this with anyone else.”

The two of you lay there for a long time, bodies tangled together as you process everything that just happened. What it means for both of you.

The best part of being with Yoongi, from the very beginning, was that nothing had to change for either of you. You could be married to Yoongi and to your job at the same time, build your career from the ground up and never sacrifice a thing.

But this? Having a baby? It’s all going to be sacrifice. It won’t be just you and Yoongi anymore, living in your precious little workaholic love bubble. Everything is going to change.

Funnily enough, nothing has ever felt more right.

three —

It stands to reason that you find out that you’re pregnant in the office of Look Here Magazine. Where else?

You had your suspicions this morning, when you rolled out of bed nauseous as hell. But you also had an important interview scheduled for this afternoon—surely, you were just anxious about that. But the interview went great, and you still felt like shit afterwards.

And then you got sick. Like, really sick. In the bathroom of the store you’d stopped at to grab some ginger ale, hoping that would help with the nausea.

Instead of ginger ale, though, you watched with no small amount of shame as the clerk at the register rang up a pregnancy test for you, eyeing you with thinly veiled judgement. Whatever. Jealous bitch needs to get laid.

So here you are, locked in the single stall restroom at your office, staring down at two pink lines. Fuck.

You’re shaking like a leaf. You’re fucking giddy, of course you are, but holy shit. It’s real now. It’s real, and you’re at work, and Yoongi is at his studio, and all you want to do is call him and tell him the news. Because you’re overjoyed, but you’re also terrified, and when you get like this, he’s the only one who can make you feel better.

But you can’t. You don’t want to tell him over the phone. You want to see his reaction in real time, see the gummy smile you love so much, feel his warmth when he pulls you into his arms, kiss him stupid.

So instead, you pick your phone up with trembling hands and snap a picture, sending it straight to Rina.

It’s five in the morning in Athens. You know she won’t see it for another few hours. But it still calms you down enough to clean up and exit the bathroom, returning to your desk on shaky legs.

★ ★ ★

You can’t wait, as it turns out.

It’s seven in the evening. You got off of work less than thirty minutes ago, and you’re already all the way across town, riding in an ostentatiously large elevator to get to your husband’s swanky ass studio. You definitely broke several traffic laws to get here so fast, but you don’t care. Who knows when Yoongi will get home? You need to tell him now.

When the elevator doors slide open, allowing you to step foot onto Yoongi’s floor, you start to feel sick again. For a different reason this time.

You know Yoongi’s going to be just as psyched as you are, but still, what if he’s not? What if he’s scared shitless and all of a sudden he changes his mind about this? You both wanted a baby, but it sure as shit feels completely different now that it’s real.

You don’t know what you’re going to do if he has a change of heart. Fuck. Flee the country, probably.

You put one foot in front of the other, following the familiar path to Yoongi’s studio. Your heart races as you punch in the code you know by heart, gut twisting as the whir of the lock fills your ears. And then you’re stepping inside, slipping your shoes off at the door with the expression of a sighted rabbit on your face.

Yoongi spins around in his chair, eyes widening at your unexpected presence. “Hey,” he greets, visibly puzzled as he gets up to pull you into a hug. “I didn’t know you were coming.”

“Hey,” you breathe, heartbeat thrumming in your ears. But still, it feels nice to be in his arms after the day you’ve had. “I didn’t know I was. Sorry if I’m interrupting.”

“Nah, don’t apologize. I need a break anyway,” he says, pulling away to study your face. “Everything okay?”

“Um!” you squeak out, grabbing his hands to pull him towards the couch in the corner of his studio, sinking down on the worn leather. You stare down at the material beneath you. He really needs to replace this thing. “Yes? I think so. I hope so.”

“You’re scaring the piss out of me, Y/N,” he huffs, settling down next to you. Gently, his fingers grasp your chin, lifting your head so you’re looking straight at him. “Tell me what’s going on.”

Swallowing thickly, you shift your bag into your lap, digging around in it for a moment until you can procure what you need. Shakily, you hold out two positive pregnancy tests for him to see. God, pregnancy is so gross. You’re holding pee sticks in your hand.

“I’m, um…”

“You’re pregnant,” Yoongi breathes, eyes widening in amazement as he stares at the little lines. Tearing his eyes away, he gapes at you. “You’re pregnant? We’re going to have a baby?”

“I think so,” you say, chewing at your bottom lip nervously.

“Shit,” he says, grinning so wide you can’t help but return it. “We’re going to be parents!”

Before you know it, tears are streaming down your face, even as you laugh in disbelief along with him. You never should’ve doubted him, not even for a second.

“We’re going to be parents,” you sob, still clutching the positive tests in your hand as you speak through your tears. “Can I put these down? It’s so gross. I peed on these.”

Laughing, Yoongi takes the tests from your hand and sets them aside, pulling you into his lap so he can kiss you silly. “Fuck,” he murmurs, breaking away with a sniffle. “I’m so happy.”

Fuck. He can’t do that. He can’t cry, too. You don’t think you can take it.

“Me too,” you say, wiping at your eyes. Then you smack his shoulder, sniffling yourself. “You can’t cry, stupid. You’re supposed to be the strong one.”

Another laugh bubbles up from his throat, nothing but fondness and joy in his watery eyes. “I think for the next nine months, you’re one hundred percent going to be the strong one,” he says, staring down at your belly with awe.

It’s crazy. There’s nothing there yet, but yes there is.

“Yoongi,” you whimper, mouth twisting as you try to hold back another wave of tears. “We’re going to be parents.”

“We’re going to be parents,” he repeats, swallowing thickly as he meets your eyes again. “Fuck.”

“Fuck,” you agree. You’re delirious, so happy you think you could pass out. “I love you.”

Pulling you into a tight hug, Yoongi rubs your back soothingly. “I love you so much, baby,” he breathes as he nuzzles into your hair.

Nothing has ever felt more right.

four —

Yoongi is going to kill somebody. It’s only a matter of time.

He was close, in that stupid fucking airport. It was going to be that bitchy flight attendant. It was. She’d been testing his patience all goddamn morning, getting testy every time he asked for updates on his flight, and Yoongi was already barely hanging on by a thread. But then he could practically hear your voice in his ear. Don’t be a jackass. It’s not her fault your flight is delayed, you’d say. Because you’re his voice of reason when he can’t keep himself in check.

So the flight attendant was spared.

Then, it was going to be the snot-nosed little brat that kept kicking the back of Yoongi’s seat the whole way home. He had booked the flight last minute, unable to upgrade past economy. Which was fine. It’s not like Yoongi’s a snob!

He was just already pissed off. He wanted—no, needed—to be with you, instead of cruising at 35,000 feet, stuck in his very own personal saw trap. But you’d insisted he go on this stupid ass work trip, eviscerating every single logical objection he tried to make. You were impossible to reason with lately.

So there he was.

In the end, the kid was spared, too. Only because throttling a child would probably look really bad for him, considering the circumstances.

The universe just seemed to be working against him, even after the plane touched down on the tarmac. Because of course! Of course it took him forever to find his stupid suitcase. Of course it took him even longer to get an Uber. Of course there was traffic on the way! Why not? What’s one more ‘fuck you, Min Yoongi’?

And of course, when he finally makes it, when he’s panting and out of breath, suitcase in hand as he searches wildly for the room number he was texted, the first person he sees is not you.

“Well look what the cat dragged in!”

Yeah, Rina might not make it. He’s sure you’ll understand.

Yoongi appreciates Rina, he really does. He tries to be there for you when you need him, but sometimes, despite his best efforts, he can’t be. It’s just the way life works. But Rina always steps in when she’s needed. Today is a great example.

That being said, Rina also has a tendency to step in when she’s not needed. Or particularly wanted. Like the entire past month, living in his guest bedroom to dote on you even though—apart from the work trip you insisted he go on—Yoongi has literally been working from home since month six, at your beck and call.

Yoongi gets it. Rina is your best friend. He knows you’ve been elated to have her closeby this past month. But still, Yoongi would’ve paid for a hotel room for her or something. It’s been a little weird trying to, like, fuck his super hot pregnant wife knowing her best friend is just across the hall.

“Hi, Rina,” he says, deadpan even as he’s catching his breath. “Wanna point me in the direction of my wife?”

“She’s piiiiiissed at you,” Rina sing-songs, grinning like the cat that ate the canary.

Yoongi’s eye twitches.

“Because I’m late?” he guesses.

“Because you impregnated her in the first place.”

“Great,” he says, choosing not to engage. He points at a door. “There?”

“Good luck, champ,” Rina says in response, waving him through. Like he needs fucking permission to see you. Don’t engage don’t engage don’t engage.

Huffing, he opens the door to what he can only hope is actually your room, closing it softly behind him.

“Yoongi,” you warble.

There you are.

Suddenly, it’s like none of the events that have transpired today matter one fucking bit. Not the frantic voicemail he’d woken up to, the delayed flight, the bratty kid, none of it.

You look like an angel. A very pregnant, very stressed angel, but his angel nonetheless.

“Baby,” he breathes. He’s by your side in an instant, carding his fingers through your hair. “I’m sorry I’m late.”

“How was your trip?” you ask, leaning into his touch so sweetly. Man, he missed you.

“About as pointless as I thought it’d be. Just wanted to be with you the whole time.”

“Well, you’re here now.”

“Yeah. I’m here now,” he hums, pressing a kiss to your sweaty temple. “How are you feeling?”

You huff at that, staring up at him like he’s stupid. Or like Rina wasn’t lying when she said you’re pissed at him.

“Like my vagina will never be the same again, thanks to you,” you grumble. “I can’t believe I let you do this to me. I’m going to make you pay, Min Yoongi.”

“Feel free,” he huffs, unable to suppress the small smile quirking at the corners of his lips. He can’t help it. You can be pissed at him all you want, he’s just happy to see you. “I’ll even remind you, if you want. Do you want me to put a date on your calendar?”

“Don’t push it,” you grit out, glaring daggers at him.

“You’re the only one doing the pushing today, baby.”

“God, I hope so,” you whine. “Get this thing out of me! It’s not fair that you get to be a DILF and I have to be all big and gross.”

A DILF???

“Baby,” Yoongi coos, doing his best to stifle the laughter threatening to break free. “You’re so beautiful, Y/N. You’re glowing.”

“It’s sweat,” you deadpan.

“No, I’m serious,” he insists, taking your hands in his despite the way you try to whack him away. Despite his amusement, he’s completely sincere when he says, “You are the most beautiful woman in the world. Don’t be like that.”

“Really?” you pout.

Yoongi nods sagely, squeezing your hands. “One hundred percent a MILF.”

You groan, whacking his hands away in irritation, successfully this time. “Make yourself useful and go get me some ice chips, motherfucker.”

He snorts, backing towards the door with a little salute. “Yes ma’am,” he says. “I’ll be back in a few. I love you.”

“I love you too. Asshole.”

As he slips out of your room, he swears he catches the corners of your lips turning up, although you try valiantly to hide it.

Yeah. You’re going to be just fine.

five —

It’s been nine months—thirty six weeks, because apparently babies are measured in weeks for some reason—since Min Penny was brought into this world. Yoongi doesn’t think he’ll ever get sick of looking at her.

She looks so much like you, it’s crazy. Every time he says that, you’re quick to tell him just how wrong he is—that she has Yoongi’s nose, Yoongi’s eyes, Yoongi’s smile—but when he looks at her, all he sees is you.

He loves it. She’s perfect.

She sleeps every night in a crib that Yoongi built, surrounded by stuffed animals that you handpicked, in a home that you two have made together.

Yoongi couldn’t be happier.

The three of you have spent the last week or so in Daegu, and Yoongi’s parents have had ample time to get plenty of pictures and shower Penny with gifts that she proceeds to shove in her mouth at every opportunity.

It’s time to head back home, but not before a little detour.

The weather is perfect today, giving both of you an opportunity to celebrate Penny’s half birthday the way you’ve been wanting to. A little overcast, but not so much that there’s a chance of rain. Really, it couldn’t be any better.

Yoongi’s always hated the beach, but a weekend trip to Jeju with his family didn’t sound half bad when you’d pitched it. And now that he’s here, sprawled out on a blanket on Jungmun Saekdal Beach while you shovel Jolly Pong into Penny’s waiting mouth, he couldn’t imagine being anywhere else.

When Penny grows disinterested in the Jolly Pong, you take a moment to adjust the little yellow sun hat you’d bought for her earlier and then lean back on your hands.

“Isn’t that view beautiful?” you sigh.

It’s so silly. You’re gazing out into the water, eyes sparkling as you take in the scenery in front of you. It’s beautiful here, it is. Yoongi hasn’t been to Jeju in a long time, and he’s sure the view is just as beautiful as you say. But all Yoongi can see is you. You, the amazing mother of his child.

You’re radiant, glowing in a way that he’s never seen before. Even after all this time, you never fail to take his breath away.

“Yeah,” he hums, his hand curling around yours where it rests in the sand. “It is.”

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wildestdreamsblog · 2 months ago

Text

The Story of Us

Pairing: Mahwa Character!Min Yoongi x Reader

Summary: You wake up in the body of the second female lead in a manhwa, determined to rewrite your fate. No longer willing to be trapped in unrequited love for the elusive main lead, Min Yoongi, you set out to change the ending of the story. But leaving him behind isn’t as simple as you thought. As the lines between fiction and reality blur, the narrative begins to shift in unexpected ways—Yoongi, who was once only devoted to the main female lead, starts to see you in a new light. Can you escape the cycle of heartbreak, or will you find yourself entangled in a love story you never asked for?

or in which Yoongi found out you aren't from that world and refuses to let you leave.

Warnings: Yandere behavior, Obsessiveness, Possessiveness, Manipulative behavior, Mention of death, If you’re not 18+ please, PLEASE, do not interact. Be mindful of the warnings. Let me know if I miss anything.

A/N: Happy 6k to me!!! It's finally here. Those who already read the unedited fic know the scenes I added here... I went crazy again and wrote additional 3kish words. I hope you enjoy!

“Does self-love mean nothing for you?”

You commented lightly at the second female lead as you flipped the page. In your hand was the manhwa your friends were gushing about. They went on and on about how dreamy the main lead was for weeks and how annoying the second female lead was until you finally gave in and went to a bookstore one late night. The cover was unassuming, a mere illustration of a man with dark hair and a milky white skin. Despite the chatters of the few customers, it was like it all went silent when you held the manhwa in your hand. You had no rationale as to why you were staring so hard at the main lead, nor why you felt a jolt of electricity when you traced your finger on his face.

The sudden and inexplainable zap of electricity was enough for you to put the manhwa back to its shelf where it belonged. You had enough for today, you thought. It must be your late nights that finally got to you. You turned and started to walk away when you heard someone called your name.

“Are you not going to buy that?”

You blinked owlishly, turning to look your surroundings before realizing that the voice had come from behind you where an old woman with a pleasant smile on her face stood. You didn’t hear her walk, sure that it was only you in that section of the bookstore.

“Excuse me?” you asked in confusion with her sudden question.

She offered you a smile before reaching for the manhwa you were touching moments ago. “This. Are you not going to buy this?”

You glanced at the book in her hands, the cover innocuous enough—a pale-faced man with dark eyes, his expression unreadable, a haunting sort of beauty that seemed to shimmer under the dim light of the store. The same man whose face had burned into your mind the moment you’d traced your finger over it.

"Huh?" you muttered, not entirely sure what to say. "Oh, no... I—" You fumbled with your words, caught between politeness and that unsettling pull you couldn’t deny. “I’m just looking.”

She tilted her head slightly, her smile never wavering, but there was something deeper there now—an unreadable warmth and perhaps... a warning? "Such a shame. This is the last piece," she continued, her fingers running over the cover with a tenderness that made your heart race. "Are you sure you don’t want to enter his universe?"

You stared at her, perplexed. The bookstore was quiet again, save for the soft hum of the air conditioning and the distant murmur of other customers. But it felt like there was something else in the air now—something heavier. More alive.

As if on cue, your phone buzzed in your pocket, breaking the strange tension that had settled between you and the clerk. You fumbled it out, your heart still racing. It was a text from one of your friends: "Did you finally get the manhwa? He's sooooo hot, right?!?"

You looked from your phone to the manhwa and there it was again. It was like something was calling you to touch the book. On the other hand, your flight or fight instinct had never been this high, urging you to walk away as soon as possible. The old woman’s gaze never left you, her expression still serene, as if she knew exactly what you were thinking. The tension between you felt palpable, like a tether was drawing you back to the book, back to the man on the cover.

"You know what, dear," she continued, her voice now almost conspiratorial, "since we're almost closing, it’s on the house. Let me wrap it up for you."

When you asked her why, it was a line you should have taken in face value.

She said that reading this will change your life.

All that was how you found yourself on your bed with the manhwa and feeling bad for the second female lead. Okay fine, she was not exactly kind. She was a bit bitchy and the typical rich kid who fell for her childhood friend who of course, fell for another woman below their stature. She devised devious ways to get the main female lead out of their lives which only managed to push Min Yoongi, the male lead character, away from her. She wanted him so badly, and she had nothing else to cling to. In the end, he left her alone when all she had was him.

She was left alone, Yoongi gone from her life, and all she had left were her schemes and bitterness. You couldn’t help but wonder what she could have been if she had just let go. If she had let him go, instead of holding on so tightly that she suffocated herself.

She wasn’t a villain, you told yourself, though you knew she was far from a saint.

It wasn’t that you were defending what she did. It was just that you felt for her, strangely. You had no family of your own too, and maybe that was why you held on to your friends. You thought that if you were as pretty and as wealthy as her, then you wouldn’t spend all your time and energy pining after Yoongi. You thought about her—so pretty, so polished—and you wondered, If I were her, would I have acted the same way? If you had that beauty, that wealth, that presence, would you still feel this same deep ache for someone who couldn’t love you back? Sure, he was all that. He was handsome, smart, and so manly. For a while, it was just the two of them in their little world until he met the female lead. But then again, if you were her, you would let them be and look for someone who would love you as you were. Surely, there was someone out there for her. You wondered if it would be easy to just walk away, you thought. But then, you didn’t know what it was like to have everything and still lose the one thing that mattered most. To feel like there was no one left who could make you feel whole.

The story was so intriguing with the right amount of suspense that kept you up all night. Despite you being a non-mahwa reader, you could not bring yourself to stop reading until you reached the ending.

The words of the final chapters echoed in your mind as you read through them. Yoongi’s happiness came at her expense, and as you turned the page, you saw the final blow: She died. She died because Yoongi decided to save the main female lead from drowning instead of his childhood friend. Just like that. No grand redemption, no change of heart. She was gone. “Of course, she dies,” you murmured in annoyance as you flipped the page. “Was that really necessary for this Yoongi to get his happy ending?”

You put the manhwa down on your chest and looked up at your bedroom ceiling. You felt tears forming in your eyes and before you knew it, they were streaming down your cheeks and onto the manhwa. “Poor you. You deserved better,” you whispered as sleep took you away.

You didn’t remember falling asleep, but the next time you opened your eyes, it felt like you were in a dream. More precisely, you woke up to a familiar room. You just couldn’t place it yet where you saw this room before. You sat up from the most comfortable bed you had ever been on, your eyes roaming over the whole room. Where were you?

You looked down and noticed that you were wearing a silk sleepwear…You didn’t own this. In fact, you never liked it because you couldn’t afford it. Did someone dress you in this? Were you kidnapped?

Panic surged through you like a wave, a cold knot tightening in your stomach. The thought alone pushed you to stand up quickly, your head turning rapidly to every corner of the room when a mirror across the room caught your eye. You walked over, unsure of what you were even looking for, but the reflection that met you made your heart stop.

Holy shit.

You froze in front of the mirror, your breath caught somewhere between disbelief and panic. The face staring back at you was undeniably familiar but was definitely not yours. It was her—the woman from the manhwa.

Your hand lifted slowly, as if drawn by an invisible force, and touched your cheek, tracing the delicate curve of your jaw. The reflection mimicked your every move, except there was no mistake: it wasn’t you. This version of you was flawless—her skin porcelain smooth, her lips full and painted in a soft, understated pink. You blinked hard, willing the image to change, but it remained the same, impossibly perfect.

And then it hit you, harder than any realization should have: You were in her world. You were in her body. You were the second female lead.

What the fuck was this dream?!

You pinched yourself, willing yourself to wake up from this peculiar dream where you were not you, and instead, you were someone of a fictional character. All that it did was reddened her fair skin. You truly tried not to panic, but no one and nothing could have ever prepared you from waking up in someone else’s body! More so of a fictional one. Similarly, you knew this could not be possible. You must have been dreaming.

You were just dreaming…right?

The knock on the door snapped you out of your stupor, your mind reeling as the panic tightened its grip.

“Miss? Sir Yoongi is here to see you,” the voice outside the door called, timid, hesitant.

You blinked, the words barely registering at first. Yoongi? No. No, no, no. Your heart dropped to your stomach, and the world around you seemed to tilt at an impossible angle. You opened your mouth to respond, but all that came out was a shaky, disbelieving breath.

"Y-yoongi?" Your voice sounded strange, foreign in this body, yet with an edge of authority, the voice of someone accustomed to being looked at, obeyed.

“N-no. Why?”

“T-to visit you, Miss. He went straight here from the airport after his three-month work in New York,” she explained with a terrified tone in her voice as though one wrong word would upset you. It did upset you upon horrifying realization that you were in the first chapter of the manhwa. He was coming to see the second female lead, the one who would only ever be a part of his life for the briefest, most painful moments. The one who would disappear when the main female lead entered the picture, leaving behind nothing but heartache and regret.

This was the moment—the beginning of her unraveling. The beginning of your unraveling.

You stumbled back from the mirror, almost tripping over the hem of the silk nightgown that clung to your skin. It felt wrong. This wasn’t your body. This wasn’t you. You couldn’t be her. You couldn't.

But there you were—she was—standing in front of a mirror, and it was your face that stared back, the same face that would soon be abandoned in favor of the main lead. The face that would die tragically, just as Yoongi chose someone else.

A cold sweat broke out on your skin as you pressed your hand to your chest, feeling your heart race, the pulse throbbing in your throat. The maid outside the door was waiting. She was waiting. Yoongi was waiting.

“Miss? Are you coming?” The maid asked again, sounding more nervous now. “Sir Yoongi is waiting.”

You felt your legs walked to where the door was as though they had a mind of their own, as though they were simply following the plot where you had to face her childhood bestfriend, as though you had no choice in this. The door creaked as it slowly opened, and the maid stepped back with a small, nervous bow. “Miss,” she murmured softly, her eyes flicking between you and the hallway.

There he was. Yoongi. Standing in the hallway, waiting for you.

His broad back was turned to you, his focus was on the huge window overlooking the garden below. His hands were in his pockets. You couldn’t help but notice the bags of designer clothes and jewelries beside him. It was always like this. Yoongi would spoil her with everything, his love a quiet promise wrapped in material things. His affection was given in expensive packages, just because he missed her. It was a thing the main lead, Yoongi, and her had for the longest times. He spoiled her rotten, and in turn, she loved him unconditionally until he realized that it wasn’t her love that he wanted. It was someone else’s.

You felt your chest tighten as you stepped forward, closer to him. And then, slowly, he turned around, his gaze landing on you, his eyes sharp and calculating, as though he was seeing you for the first time. He was just as handsome as you'd imagined, his sharp features bathed in the soft light of the chandelier overhead. His expression, however, was unreadable—his usual aloofness on full display. He had on a simple black jacket, the sleeves rolled up slightly, revealing his forearms.

He was standing there, just as he had been in the manhwa—distant, untouchable, and perfect. The kind of person who seemed to have everything. Everything except the one thing that would make him whole. His lips curved into a faint smirk, the usual aloofness settling over him like a second skin. Yoongi. So damn confident. So certain of himself. Yet there was something flickering beneath that exterior, something you couldn't place.

He took a step toward you, his gaze unwavering, and for a moment, everything felt too heavy, too real. The space between you both seemed like an eternity, but somehow you couldn’t move. You couldn’t breathe.

He raised his brows when you remained motionless – so dissimilar to how the second female lead threw herself in his arms in the first chapter. “What?” he said, his voice a quiet challenge. “Didn’t you miss me?”

His words hit you like a cold wave. Didn’t you miss me?

The phrase was so familiar, but it made you flinch. It was the same thing he had said to her. The second female lead. Her. The woman you had now become. You opened your mouth to respond, but nothing came out. Your breath caught in your throat, the weight of his gaze leaving you paralyzed. How were you supposed to feel? What was the right answer?

Yoongi’s smirk deepened as he took another step closer, his presence commanding the space between you both. He wasn’t giving up.

“Aigoo,” he muttered, as though your silence had amused him. “Is my princess mad at me?” He reached out, cupping your cheeks in his hands and squishing them gently, his thumb brushing across your skin in a familiar, playful gesture. “I promise I won’t be away for that long again, okay?”

The words hit you like a punch to the gut. My princess. Mad at me? It was just like the manhwa. Just like how the second female lead had fallen for him—how she’d craved his affection, how she had convinced herself that he was the only one who could make her whole.

How could she not fall for him? How could she not love him when he was this—this?

See, who wouldn’t fall for that? You understood the second female lead for falling in love with him, or why she did all those terrible things when he suddenly withdrew all his affections from her. But maybe…you could change the ending. Maybe you could find a happy ending of your own away from him. You could choose differently. You could walk away. You could find your own path, away from him, away from this tragic loop. Maybe—just maybe—there was a way for you to have a happy ending. Not the one written in the manhwa, but one you could choose. One where you didn’t lose yourself in the love of a man who could never return it.

What if you and him could all have your separate happy endings?

But also, what if this was just a dream where you’d wake up later and be in your own bed?

It was almost a week later when you realized that this wasn’t a dream. Despite repeatedly pinching yourself, you still couldn’t wake up from this nightmare. You hadn’t gone out of your room since Yoongi visited, and all messages and calls from him were promptly ignored.

You couldn’t even rule out that you were actively going insane because there was no way that this was now your reality. Something inside you was telling you to do something. It was urging you to fight, to survive, not matter how difficult it would be. It was proven when he visited you and you had no control over what happened. However, you also noted that you could do things somehow differently like not hugging him when he visited, or not being affectionate to him.

There were canon events, yes. There were things that should happen as were already dictated by the manhwa. But you also had a will in this story. And if there was a chance that this was your new reality, then you would do absolutely everything to make sure that you end up living.

You had to be smart. You had an edge, you surmised. You read the entire manhwa and you knew what was going to happen. You knew what to anticipate. And the next scene? The next scene was where Yoongi met the female lead and it would be in a charity ball you and him were attending.

You were dressed to the nines, your makeup was impeccable. Around your neck was one of the second female lead’s extravagant necklaces. The dress that she chose was immaculate, a light-colored floor-length gown that would later on be ruined by the female lead’s accident in the ball. You looked down from the unfamiliar eyes staring back at you in the mirror as your maid informed you that the car was waiting downstairs. You got this.

You weren’t used to her life of extravagance and you could feel a shot of anxiety pumping in your veins as the car neared the event. You could see reporters and cameramen lining up to capture the entrance of the wealthiest of the wealthiest. Nothing in your life could have prepared you for this. You were not a confident person…but she was. You only needed to get through this night and then slowly let the events happened. You would let the two of them fall in love with each other like it needed to be.

“We’re here, miss,” your driver announced, meeting your eyes from the rearview mirror. You took a deep breath and counted to three.

1…2…3-

The door opened and just when you opened your eyes, there he was.

Camera flashes illuminated the scene from his back, yet his focus was on you. His hand was outstretched, waiting for you to reach for it. But damn it, Min Yoongi was impeccable. Just like you, he was dressed to the nines with his tailored dark suit and his brushed up dark hair. He was the epitome of what a main lead should look like. Still, you couldn’t fault both the main and second female lead for falling in love with that face. If only you weren’t trying to stay alive, then you would most probably fall for that face, too.

Too bad you were trying to stay alive.

The weight of the moment settled heavily on your chest as you stared at his outstretched hand. The flashes of the cameras were relentless, their bursts creating a kaleidoscope of light and shadow that painted Yoongi's face with an almost ethereal glow. His dark eyes bored into yours, and for a split second, the world seemed to pause.

You hesitated, your hand hovering just out of reach. This was one of those moments, wasn't it? One of the canon events you couldn’t avoid. Taking his hand was expected, a necessary step to ensure the night unfolded as the manhwa demanded. Yet, the knowledge didn’t make it any easier.

“I don’t think you can hide from me now, princess,” Yoongi’s voice was soft but firm. In fact, there was no annoyance in his tone, only a quiet patience as though you didn’t spend the past days dodging him in every turn.

You swallowed hard, forcing yourself to push past the whirlwind of nerves. You had to remember who you were now—or at least who you were pretending to be. She wouldn’t falter, wouldn’t hesitate. She was poised, confident, the kind of woman who could command a room with a single glance. She was a woman who knew the power she had over society.

Plastering on a polite smile, you placed your hand in his. His fingers were warm, steady, and for a moment, the contact felt grounding. You couldn’t help but notice how his hand completely engulfed yours, how he made your hands seemed dainty in comparison to his. He helped you out of the car with a practiced grace, his touch lingering for a fraction longer than necessary. You didn’t want to dwell on the fact that you felt the same electricity that you did when you first touched the manhwa.

“Shall we?” he asked, his voice low enough that only you could hear it.

You knew you had no choice as he guided you up the grand entrance. This was a canon event. The canon event leading up to their meeting. You had to play your part if you wanted to not experience dying in her body.

The flashes of cameras almost blinded you had it not been for Yoongi’s broad back that shielded you from them. The two of you stopped in the middle to smile for the camera, a PR thing Yoongi had to do for his company. His hand rested on the small of your back, gently pushing you closer to him. You knew what would happen like the back of your hand, and just as written, one of the reporters asked him to define his relationship status with you.

She’s the most important woman in my life.

“She’s the most important woman in my life,” Yoongi declared with unwavering sincerity, his deep voice resonating through the flashes and murmurs of the crowd. As he looked down at you, his lips curved into that signature, disarming smile—the kind that could melt even the coldest of hearts.

The ball was just as grand as you imagined. It was apparent that the rich spared no expense in this and you couldn’t imagine that you would experience this in your life. Yoongi’s gaze lingered on you, an unreadable expression flickering in his eyes as he watched you take it all in. There was something almost amused about the way he observed you, though he said nothing. It was almost comical to him how you were impressed with this when the friend he knew practically grew up in this extravagance. You were in awe at the intricate details, the food and drink being served, and the expensive jewelries that would be auctioned tonight.

“What do you want me to bid for?” Yoongi asked, his voice low and smooth as he tipped his wineglass to his lips, his dark eyes not straying from you.

You let out a short chuckle, already knowing what to say. “I want that old ring the Queen once owned,” you answered monotonously. It was the most expensive item in the auction, and exactly the kind of thing the second female lead would desire. You, on the other hand, felt that it was ridiculous to desire something that was given by someone who dearly loved the Queen. Yoongi merely lifted his dark brow before nodding his head.

As always, her will was always his command– until it wasn’t.

The bidding war for the final piece, the ring, didn’t take that long as Yoongi continuously bidded ridiculously high amounts that the businessmen could not keep up with the younger man. Yoongi didn’t even flinch as the bids shot up. He stood there, effortlessly cool, his back straight and shoulders squared, his eyes locked on the auctioneer like a predator stalking its prey. The others tried to keep pace, their offers becoming desperate, their faces flushed with a mix of anger and humiliation as Yoongi continued to raise the stakes, his voice cold and assured as he increased his offer without hesitation.

In the end, Yoongi won. And it showed with the way he turned back to you, that same smirk still dancing at corner of his lips.

This was it.

This was the moment.

Yoongi was walking to you, his expression still that of a triumphant victor as he made his way to you. You couldn’t help but keep your eyes to him. The way his dark eyes were trained on you was captivating and you were captivated. It was as though you were the only one in this room to him, like all other people could disappear and he wouldn’t even blink. In fact, you were too captivated that you almost forgot what the next scene was.

But just as was written by the author, a waitress tripped, your light-colored dress now splashed with red wine, a stark contrast. The sound of glass breaking, the accident itself, was enough to silence the whole ballroom. Your mouth hanged agape as you looked down at your dress, and then slowly, you lift your eyes to the waitress.

Your eyes met the female lead’s. Hers was comically wide as she continuously apologized to you, her expression that of panic as her manager and more people flocked to where you were.

“What happened?” Yoongi’s voice was sharp, his usual calm replaced by a low, controlled edge. His hands clasped your arms with a firm but steady grip, his gaze darting between your face and the ruined fabric of your gown. The pristine, light-colored dress was now stained with crimson, the deep red wine soaking into the fabric and spreading like an ominous bloom.

Your eyes flicked back to the waitress—her—the female lead. Just as the manhwa dictated, there she was, the unassuming heroine, standing in front of you with wide, tear-filled eyes. Her cheeks flushed crimson as she stammered apology after apology, her hands trembling as she bent down to pick up the shards of broken glass at her feet. You saw her flinched.

“I—I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to! Please forgive me, Miss!” she pleaded, her voice shaky and sincere. The panic on her face was painfully familiar. You’d read this scene before. You knew every word, every gesture.

And yet, being in it now, living it—felt different.

Your dress was ruined, yes, but more importantly, this was the moment. The one where Yoongi, the ever-distant, untouchable main lead, would first notice her. Where his protective instincts would be stirred, his curiosity piqued by her clumsy, honest nature. This was where it all began—their love story.

Except right now, he wasn’t looking at her. He was still looking at you

“Are you okay?” he asked, his voice quieter now, his brows furrowed as his thumb lightly grazed your arm, checking for any sign of injury. There was no recognition in his gaze for the woman kneeling at your feet, no acknowledgment of her presence.

You blinked, caught off guard. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. By now, he should have been helping her, offering her a reassuring smile, gently lifting her to her feet. That was what the script demanded

But here he was, his focus entirely on you.

“I…” Your voice faltered as your mind raced to adjust. You needed to steer this back on track. The story needed to progress, or everything could spiral out of control. “I’m fine. It’s just the dress,” you said, forcing your tone to be light, dismissive, as though the ruined gown didn’t matter.

Yoongi’s lips pressed into a thin line, his gaze hardening. “It’s not fine,” he said, his voice firm. He turned, his sharp eyes landing on the waitress. The poor girl visibly flinched under his scrutiny, her hands freezing mid-motion as she tried to gather the broken pieces.

“It was an accident,” you said quickly, stepping forward and placing a hand on his arm to stop him. “Yoongi, it’s fine.” Your words were deliberate, almost desperate. You needed him to look at her, to notice her, to play his part in the story.

He hesitated, his jaw tightening, but at last, his gaze shifted to the waitress. There it was—that flicker of recognition. The moment his eyes softened, his expression melting into something less severe.

“Are you hurt?” he asked her, his tone still carrying a note of authority, but the sharp edges were gone. This was it—the moment you’d been waiting for.

The girl shook her head quickly, her cheeks turning an even darker shade of red. “N-no, sir! I’m fine. I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

“Enough,” Yoongi interrupted gently but firmly. He crouched down, his movements slow, deliberate, as he began picking up the shards of glass alongside her. The room seemed to collectively hold its breath, all eyes on the enigmatic businessman lowering himself to help a clumsy waitress. “Be careful. You’re going to hurt yourself,” he said with a much softer voice. His gaze lingered on her face, and it was apparent that you were now forgotten.

And there it was—their first connection. The moment the story truly began.

You exhaled slowly, stepping back as the crowd around you began to disperse, the murmurs of the guests returning to their usual buzz. This was how it had to be. You just had to step back now and let their love story grow.

You reached the balcony and you thanked heavens that you were alone. You breathed a sigh of relief, both for the gratitude that you were alone and for surviving that scene. You were looking up at the stars when you felt a suit jacket landed on your shoulders, safely engulfing you with warmth and against the cold night.

You turned, not knowing who to expect but he was definitely not it. You didn’t even know who he was.

The handsome man met your eyes before flashing you a charming smile of his own that was enough to disarm you. “What a shame…”

You blinked, confused by his sudden appearance, your heart still racing from the scene inside. "What is?" you asked, voice quieter than you'd intended, as your eyes darted back toward the ballroom doors.

"That your dress was ruined," he said smoothly, his tone playful, though his eyes seemed to hold something more—curiosity, maybe, or perhaps something deeper. "You were the most beautiful girl there. You managed to catch everyone’s attention when you entered the room– including mine."

Sputtering at his confidence, you felt your cheeks heated up from his statement. “Were?”

The side of his eyes crinkled as he looked at you. He couldn’t believe that the elusive and untouchable you were giving him the time of the day. You were always in Yoongi’s orbit, and everyone knew how powerful his family was. It was always the two of you in your own little world, and Yoongi was seldom far from you. It was the reason why suitors couldn’t reach you. No one needed the Min Yoongi for an enemy.

It was safe to say that the relationship between the two of you were always a question mark to the onlookers. In the world of the rich, the two of you should have been long engaged if that was the case. And a chance that Yoongi was far from you was not to be wasted. And so, he took the chance.

“You still are,” he breathed honestly. He couldn’t take his eyes off of you. You were so magnificent and he understood why Yoongi was similar to a guard dog when it came to you. He extended his hand to you. “I’m Kim Taehyung.”

You only had to wait, but the waiting got boring. When you’d read the manhwa, the pacing had felt seamless, the love story unfolding with a rhythm that kept you turning the pages. Here, however, their love story took time.

It turned out that not only were you bored, but you were also extremely wealthy in this life. You rationalized that it would be okay to enjoy her life just a little.

Leaning on the balcony railing, you released your fifteenth sigh of the day, staring blankly at the sprawling estate below. Behind you, the ever-dutiful maid hovered, hands clasped nervously in front of her. Her expression flickered between concern and trepidation, as though bracing for one of the infamous tantrums her mistress was known for. Lately, though, you’d given her nothing of the sort—no sharp words, no impatient outbursts. That, in itself, seemed to unsettle her.

However, another sigh from you finally prompted her to ask you what was wrong.

Her eyes widened, startled by the question. “I… I suppose I’d pay off my family’s debts,” she admitted, voice small. “It’s been weighing on us for years.”

“How much?” you asked, your tone casual, as though inquiring about the weather.

“Three million,” she murmured, her cheeks coloring as though the very amount embarrassed her. “But I couldn’t possibly—”

“Consider it done,” you interrupted breezily, waving off her protests. “Next?”

“Maybe…I’d go to Paris?”

You nodded, your eyes gleamed as the spark of inspiration ignited within you. A brilliant, slightly impulsive idea. “That’s perfect. Grab your passport.”

It turned out that Paris was also someone’s favorite place.

You were sitting in a café one late afternoon, willing the time to pass by quickly so you could return to your life as evidenced by your poor attempt at reading a book when the chair in front of you was suddenly occupied. With your peace suddenly gone, you looked up and met his eyes. He was smiling at you, his dark hair brushed away from his face, so dissimilar to how formal he looked when you met him.

“We must stop meeting like this.”

He chuckled at your expression before he leaned in on the table. “In Paris, of all places. I have to say, this is starting to look like fate.”

Who was he exactly?

You tried to rack your brain of his scenes in the manhwa, and you had been ever since you met him in that ball. He wasn’t supposed to be in the scene…or was it possible that that happened behind the scene when the focus wasn’t on you, but on Yoongi and the female lead?

“Do you believe in fate, Mr. Kim?” you titled you head in curiosity, looking at him intently for any sort of familiarity that may come your way.

“I do and I don’t. I think that fate is an abstract concept that no man can ever define. There are some things that we are just too powerless to stop; and there are some things that we are too powerful to accept,” he stated with a smile on his face. “You’re here because of fate, Y/N. Don’t you think so?”

“What?”

Taehyung chuckled and patiently waited as the waiter placed his cup of hot chocolate on the table. “I think that you’re fated to be here at this exact moment.”

“What are you saying, Taehyung?”

“I’m saying, have dinner with me tonight.”

It was your second week in Paris when curiosity finally got the better of you. On the other hand, you could say that the past few days were one of the most interesting days of your life. You never knew that that little dinner with Taehyung could result to you gaining a true friend here. He was interesting, quirky, wise, and full of life. You also learned that he went to the same school as the original second female lead and Yoongi attended, and that he could never befriended you before because Yoongi was always with you. He offhandedly noted that it was so rare for him not to be with you when before, wherever you went, he would follow. Speaking of the character that you assumed, her phone—your phone now—sat untouched on the marble nightstand of your hotel suite. You’d avoided it so far, reasoning that it felt like rifling through a stranger’s diary. But tonight, as the soft glow of the Eiffel Tower illuminated the room, you gave in.

Plugging it in, the device vibrated to life, and a flood of notifications lit up the screen. Your jaw dropped slightly as you skimmed through the endless stream of missed calls and messages. Most of them were from Yoongi.

“Of course,” you muttered under your breath, scrolling through the list. There were texts, voicemails, and even some emails from him, all timestamped over the last two weeks.

His messages started casual enough, asking you where you were and if you were still avoiding him. He even stopped by the mansion only to find out that you weren’t there, let alone in the country. Not one in your mansion could tell him where you were despite his endless threats. As days passed by, however, his tone shifted to frustration.

I’m not kidding anymore. If I don’t hear from you, I’m coming to find you.

I am hiring a team to find you, princess.

His final message was dated today.

I do hope you remember that it is my birthday today. We always celebrate it together. We’re not gonna stop now just because you’re hiding from me.

You stared at the phone for a moment longer, the screen dark now but somehow still demanding your attention. Should you respond? What would you even say?

The phone vibrated in your hand, the screen lighting up with his name. Your stomach did a little flip, but you shook your head firmly. No. You weren’t going to answer. It was better this way—for him, for you, for the storyline. Yoongi belonged with the female lead, and the longer you stayed out of their orbit, the better. If you wanted to live, you had to do the opposite of what the second female lead did.

Instead, you grabbed your jacket, ready to explore the city some more with Taehyung. Paris was too beautiful to waste time fretting over a fictional man’s messages. Let Yoongi wait.

But just as you opened your hotel room, there he was with his signature stoic face, his dark brow raised. He pointedly looked at your phone, his name on the screen. He had his phone on his ear, while you had yours in your hand. You were literally caught red-handed ignoring his calls.

He ended the call with a deliberate tap and tucked his phone into his pocket, his gaze never leaving yours.

“Going somewhere?”

“What are you doing here?” you asked, shocked at his sudden appearance. He was supposed to be with her. The story said that he was supposed to be with her, celebrating with her, saving her from any other accidents or situations she found herself in. You did your part by staying the hell away from them….so why was he here?

Yoongi tilted his head slightly, his gaze narrowing. “Shouldn’t I be asking you that?” His tone was calm, but the edge was unmistakable. He stepped inside as though he owned the place. He didn’t ask for permission, didn’t wait for an invitation. He was just… there, filling the room with his presence like he always did. “And Paris, of all places? You’re more predictable than you think, princess.”

“I-I mean, I didn’t think you’d notice,” you stammered, your voice barely above a whisper, already regretting how ridiculous it sounded.

“What? How could I not? You literally disappeared on the face of the earth. You think I wouldn’t notice when you disappeared? When you’re not there?”

The intensity in his gaze left you momentarily stunned, your thoughts scrambling for coherence. “Y-you’re not supposed to be here…” you muttered, more to yourself than to him. Your disbelief bled into your words, your mind struggling to reconcile his presence with what you knew—or thought you knew. “The story says you’re supposed to be with her. This isn’t—this isn’t how it goes.”

“What story?”

You blinked owlishly, realizing what you’d said. “Huh? Nothing!” you exclaimed a little too quickly, waving your hands as if to physically push the moment away. “Anyway! Happy birthday!” you added, your voice unnaturally bright, hoping to distract him.

His squint deepened, a mix of curiosity and frustration flickering in his eyes. He clearly didn’t buy your deflection, but he let it slide—for now. Without a word, he crossed the room to the small bar cart in the corner, casually pouring himself a glass of whisky.

The tension in the air was thick as he swirled the amber liquid in the glass, his movements deliberate. He raised the glass to his lips, his gaze never leaving yours. You could practically see the wheels turning in that intelligent brain of his as he sized you up. After taking a slow sip, he finally spoke, his voice low, “Glad you remember my birthday, princess.”

Okay, fine. You were at loss. How were you supposed to know what you should say? This was not in the manhwa! Yoongi was basically going off-script!

You didn’t answer. You couldn’t. Instead, you turned your gaze to the door, silently willing him to leave. But Yoongi didn’t move. If anything, he seemed more determined, his presence as unyielding as ever.

“Fine,” he said after a long moment, his voice quieter now, almost resigned. “If you won’t come back, then I’ll stay. Paris is nice this time of year, isn’t it?”

He stuck by you like a shadow and he all but bought the entire hotel floor. He was adamant on spending every moment with you. The most baffling part? He still kept in touch with her. He called, he texted, he checked in on the female lead—but here he was, right beside you, refusing to leave. It made no sense. To add confusion to the mix, Yoongi kept on shooting dark glares at your phone whenever it chimed from Taehyung’s messages and he felt himself getting irritated. He wondered who was brave enough to message you when no one used to before except him.

You had been away for him for just a short time and yet, he felt like you were so far away already, like something shifted, like your entirety changed. It was like you were not the best friend he used to have.

You looked down at your phone as soon as it chimed again and you couldn’t help but chuckled at the silly selfie he took with a duck. You were too engrossed in your phone that you missed the way Yoongi gripped his utensils. You and him hadn’t spent time together since you were so busy evading him and now that he finally caught up with you, your attention was somewhere else.

Why were your attention not on him?

Who was stealing your attention away from him?!

Was this how you punished him because of his current fling?

The sound of Yoongi’s sharp exhale pierced the air, and you glanced up just in time to see his fingers grip the edge of his glass with more force than was necessary. His jaw was tight, his eyes narrowed—not at the phone in your hand, but at you. He didn’t say anything, but the silence between you both was thick with something unspoken, a tension you had been drowning in since he followed you here.

It wasn’t that you wanted to ignore him, but the truth was... you didn’t know how to deal with this version of Yoongi. The one who wasn’t following the script. The one who was here in Paris, beside you, watching you laugh at Taehyung's ridiculous duck selfie like it was the most natural thing in the world.

“What’s so funny?” Yoongi’s voice was quiet, but it was sharp. He didn’t bother to look at your phone. Instead, his gaze stayed locked on your face, his eyes a shade darker, deeper than you remembered them being.

You blinked, momentarily stunned by the sudden shift in his mood. “Oh, nothing, just a ridiculous selfie from my friend,” you said, still chuckling to yourself. “He’s with a duck.”

“He?” His voice held a dry amusement, but there was an edge to it that made you uncomfortable.

You could feel the subtle tension thickening in the air, like the weight of a storm about to break. Yoongi's question hung between you like a spark in dry tinder. You shrugged, pretending to be casual, though the hairs on the back of your neck stood on end. "Yes, he. My friend Taehyung," you said, not looking up from your phone.

But you could feel Yoongi’s eyes boring into you, every syllable of his next words like a tightening coil. “Taehyung,” he repeated, his voice cold and deliberate, as though testing the name on his tongue. His grip on his glass had tightened to the point where his knuckles were white, but it didn’t stop the slow, calculated sip he took, his gaze never leaving you.

The way he said his name made it seemed like your friendship with him was a mistake, a simple blunder on your end that shouldn’t have happened. It did feel like you stepped on a live mine, and you wondered why you were feeling like this when from what you knew about his character in the manhwa, Yoongi was a pure person. However, right now he felt like a dangerous one.

What were you supposed to do?

“You’re thirty now,” you said instead, steering the conversation away from an unfamiliar territory as you placed the phone facedown. The two of you were having brunch in a famous restaurant and you were thoroughly enjoying the croissant moments before the conversation turned sour.

He regarded you for a moment, fully aware of how you this was your sad attempt at changing the subject until he decided to put you out of misery. He nodded, waiting for you to make your point.

“You’re not getting any younger-”

He raised an eyebrow, a smirk playing at the corners of his lips. “What’s the point of this conversation, princess? You’re starting to sound like my grandma." He paused, as if savoring the thought. "By the way, she keeps asking for you. Says, and I quote, ‘her favorite grandchild never comes to visit anymore.’ Not even a phone call. Meanwhile, I’m still here, the actual grandchild, and I get nothing."

His glare was sharp, but there was no real venom behind it—just the familiar teasing edge that made you both roll your eyes and laugh, despite yourself.

“W-well! I’m just concerned that you won’t have a wife and any children of your own and that you’d grow old alone! I’m just a friend expressing concern over her best and oldest friend…” you rationalized. Fine, you were having fun teasing him while nudging him in the right direction. Yoongi was fun to mess with, you thought, if he was being himself and not the confusing and quite off-putting mood he was in a while ago.

You thought that he would react the way you anticipated him to, that he would get defensive and after which, hopefully, that he’d go back to their love story.

He did none of those things.

Instead, Yoongi leaned in, his manly scent permeating. He tucked a stray strand of your hair behind your ear, all while looking at you. “Why are you saying that I’ll be alone when I have you?”

You blinked, trying to process what Yoongi had just said. His voice, low and warm, carried a weight that wasn’t there a moment ago. You wanted to laugh, to brush it off like the teasing banter you two always shared, but the way his dark eyes held yours made it impossible. “I have you for always, right, princess? You’re not going to leave me for someone…beneath us, right?”

What?

His words seemed like he was pointing to another thing, like what he was asking you was a promise to be set in stone and not a mere assurance on his part. What was the real second female lead to say in situation like this?

“O-of course! We’re best friends! N-now let’s get out of here. I saw this beautiful necklace in that shop. It’s going to look beautiful on her. Maybe if you buy her that, then she’d forgive you for spending your birthday away from her,” you joked to deflect him, standing up and gathering your purse to escape the situation you found yourself in before he could even blink.

Think, Y/N. Think.

You gripped the stem of your wine glass, staring blankly at the flickering candle in the center of the table. The plot was veering off course, drifting further from the original narrative you knew by heart. Yoongi wasn’t supposed to be here with you, his steady presence upending the delicate balance of the story.

The main lead wasn’t supposed to stay by your side like this

Across the room, Yoongi was speaking with one of his father’s acquaintances, his posture relaxed but exuding the quiet authority that came so naturally to him. It gave you a few precious moments to breathe—and to think.

Ever since Paris, Yoongi almost never let you out of his sight. He would spend every free time of his with you. You couldn’t even refuse because he would get so suspicious. His best friend never said no to him, he knew that. Your previous actions of distancing yourself from him resulted in him latching on to you. What could you do to push him in the right direction which was to be with her?

What was the next canon event?

And then it hit you.

The company gala. The turning point. That was when he would bring her, the female lead, into the lion’s den. His family’s icy disapproval, their sharp-edged words of disdain, and their outright rejection of his choice would culminate in a dramatic declaration. Yoongi would stand by her side, rebel against his family, and announce that she was the one he wanted to marry.

It was a pivotal scene. A non-negotiable in the grand arc of his story.

You exhaled shakily. If you could just steer him toward that event, everything will fall back into place. You just needed to figure out when it was happening now that the timeline was unraveling in ways you couldn’t predict.

You just had another problem, though. The man that was now walking back to you was acting like someone who had his heart set on another, so unlike the Min Yoongi from the manhwa who only had eyes for her. His attention was unwavering, but it should not have been pointed to you but to her. The way his gaze softened whenever he looked at you, his refusal to leave your side—it was all wrong. None of it fit.

“Sorry about that,” Yoongi’s voice broke through your thoughts as he returned to the table. He slid back into his seat, his sharp eyes scanning your face. “You okay? You look… distracted.”

You forced a smile, waving a hand dismissively. “I’m fine. Just lost in thought.”

“About what?” He tilted his head, genuinely curious, and the warmth in his gaze made your stomach twist. He did hope that your attention was not being diverted by someone he didn’t even want to mention. He couldn’t even understand why the thought of you with someone else didn’t sit right with him. He couldn’t understand why he had this urge to remove the pest away from you.

“Doesn’t you company have an annual gala? I was thinking of what to wear. When is it again?” you asked, taking a sip of your drink to hide your nerves.

He was looking at you as though deep in thought, as though you were forgetting something. He tilted his head to the side, “You know it’s always in December. You always choose your dress a year in advance, princess,” Yoongi said, his voice laced with mild curiosity. He leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms as he studied you. “Why? You’ve never been one to care much about those kinds of things before.”

Your breath caught at his words. You always choose your dress a year in advance, princess. The familiarity, the ease with which he said it, threw you off. That line—it didn’t belong here. Not in this timeline. Not in this version of the story where your role was supposed to be temporary, a placeholder in the grand narrative between him and her.

“Right,” you said, forcing a light laugh that didn’t quite reach your eyes. “Guess I forgot for a moment. Been busy, you know.”

Yoongi didn’t buy it. His gaze sharpened, a hint of amusement mingled with curiosity. “You? Forget? That’s not like you.” He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table, his posture relaxed but his eyes piercing. “What’s really going on?”

The intensity in his gaze made your stomach twist again. Stay calm. Don’t let him see.

“Nothing’s going on,” you said, a touch too quickly. You took another sip of your drink, using the motion to avoid his eyes.

“Anyway, December’s coming up fast, and I’m guessing you’re planning to bring her, right?” You kept your tone light, as if the question didn’t weigh heavily on your chest.

Yoongi’s expression shifted, the smirk fading as his brows furrowed slightly. “Her?”

You swallowed hard. “You know… the one you’ve been calling and texting all the time.” You gestured vaguely, hoping to seem indifferent. “The woman you’ve been—well, I thought you were planning to introduce her to your family at the gala.”

Yoongi smiled again, but this time, it didn’t reach his eyes.

“Let’s see, princess.”

“Admit that you had fun,” Taehyung teased you as he drove you home.

You couldn’t help the smile that crept across your lips. Against all odds, you’d genuinely enjoyed yourself. You did have fun. You always thought that movie dates were boring and full of cliché, but not with him. With Taehyung, everything felt effortless—light and uncomplicated, like breathing.

“Fine,” you conceded with mock reluctance, your tone carrying the weight of faux irritation. “It was a fun…”

“Date,” he finished smoothly, his eyes glinting with amusement as your voice trailed off.

Your cheeks burned at his audacity, the straightforwardness of the word stealing your ability to respond for a moment. A "date"? Could you even call it that? The way your heart fluttered betrayed any argument you might have tried to form.

You glanced away, fidgeting with the strap of your bag as thoughts tangled in your mind. Was it okay to feel this way? To bask in fleeting moments of happiness when the life you were living wasn’t truly yours? When you were still determined to set things right, to restore the balance of a narrative that had gone astray?

So caught up in your musings, you barely noticed the car slowing to a stop in the estate’s driveway. The towering grand doors loomed ahead, a stark reminder of the world you’d return to the moment you stepped out.

“Thank you,” Taehyung’s voice pulled you from your thoughts. It was quiet, genuine, and when you turned to look at him, his face was softer than you’d ever seen it.

“For what?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

“For being here,” he replied simply, his gaze holding yours.

The weight of his sincerity pressed against your chest, making it harder to breathe. Before you could respond, he leaned in, closing the distance between you. The world seemed to slow as his hand moved to cup your face, his fingers brushing against your skin with a tenderness that made your heart stutter.

Your breaths mingled, your eyes fluttering shut as his lips hovered so close to yours it was almost unbearable. You could feel the moment hanging on a fragile thread, teetering on the edge of something irreversible.

The room’s golden hues seemed to dim as the sound of the car horn echoed through the driveway, shattering the fragile intimacy between you and Taehyung. You jolted back, your heart pounding in your chest as if caught in an act of betrayal—though you hadn’t technically done anything wrong. Yet.

Taehyung sighed, his expression softening as he glanced toward the car behind him. “Looks like your knight in shining armor doesn’t know how to wait,” he said lightly, though there was a hint of tension in his voice.

You managed a shaky laugh, your hand gripping the strap of your bag tightly. “He’s just… overprotective.”

“Right,” Taehyung said, leaning back in his seat. His eyes met yours, warm and understanding, but with a flicker of something else—something that made your chest tighten. “Still, I meant what I said. Thanks for tonight.”

Before you could respond, the honk came again, sharper this time, as if Yoongi were making a point. You turned to glance at his car, the sleek black exterior glinting under the estate’s lights. Even from this distance, you could feel his piercing gaze locked on you.

“Goodnight, Taehyung,” you said hurriedly, fumbling with the door handle.

Taehyung smiled, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes this time. “Goodnight, Y/N.”

You stepped out of the car and started toward the grand door, the cold evening air biting at your skin. Yoongi’s car door slammed shut behind you, and the sound of his footsteps was a quiet storm approaching. You didn’t dare look back, your heart a riot of guilt, frustration, and confusion.

“Princess,” Yoongi’s voice cut through the quiet, smooth and controlled, but laced with an edge you couldn’t ignore.

You stopped in your tracks, turning slowly to face him. He was already close, his dark eyes scanning your face like a puzzle he couldn’t quite solve. His suit was immaculate, as always, but there was an undercurrent of tension in his posture—shoulders just a little too stiff, jaw a little too tight.

“You’re back late,” he said, his tone deceptively casual.

“I went to see a movie with Taehyung,” you replied, keeping your voice neutral.

At the mention of Taehyung, Yoongi’s gaze flicked past you to the car that was now idling at the end of the driveway. You followed his line of sight and felt a pang of unease as his expression shifted. His brows raised slightly as he studied Taehyung through the window, his head tilting just enough to convey an air of quiet disdain.

And then he smirked—a slow, deliberate curl of his lips that sent an unfamiliar shiver down your spine. It wasn’t the Yoongi you were used to seeing. In that moment, he was something else entirely: sharp, commanding, almost cruel. The kind of presence that demanded submission without a word.

“What did you say his last name was, princess?” he asked, still watching Taehyung with that same unsettling smirk. His tone was light, but there was something in it—something dark—that made your heart beat faster.

“Kim?” you replied thoughtlessly, your mind too preoccupied with wanting to escape the tension. “Why did you ask?”

Finally, he turned his attention back to you, his gaze softening just enough to make the moment feel surreal. The shift was so subtle, so practiced, that it left you second-guessing the sharpness you’d just seen. He reached out, his arm sliding around your shoulders with an ease that felt both natural and calculated.

“No reason, princess,” he said smoothly, steering you toward the grand doors of the estate. “Just… curious.”

The warmth of his arm contrasted sharply with the coldness that lingered in the air. It was disarming, the way he could shift so easily between roles—between the man you knew and the one you weren’t sure you ever wanted to meet again.

As he guided you inside, you cast one last glance over your shoulder. Taehyung’s car hadn’t moved, the figure inside still watching. You couldn’t see his face, but you imagined the tension mirrored your own.

When the doors shut behind you, the weight of Yoongi’s presence beside you grew heavier. His hand rested lightly against your shoulder, his touch far gentler than the unease simmering just beneath the surface.

"Don’t you have better things to do than come to my dress fitting? Like, I don’t know, actually run your empire or something?" you asked, stepping out of the fitting room with a huff.

Yoongi sat sprawled on the plush sofa, one arm draped lazily along the backrest, a glass of champagne balanced effortlessly in his other hand. He looked utterly at ease, as if this boutique was his second home and not a place he had followed you to.

He shrugged, “Well, we can’t have you running away from me again, can we?”

“For the last time, I didn’t run away! I was in Paris because croissant sounded nice that day-”

“Sure, princess,” he agreed condescendingly. Yoongi’s gaze swept over you, lingering a moment longer than you expected. “On the other hand, you look immaculate in that dress,” he said, his voice low and smooth. “You’re going to make the rest of the gala feel underdressed.”

Heat crept up your neck at his words, but you quickly masked it with a scoff. “Flattery doesn’t suit you, Yoongi. Save it for the boardroom or—better yet—for her.”

He raised an eyebrow, swirling the champagne in his glass as if you hadn’t just tried to divert the conversation. “Her?” he echoed, tilting his head with mock curiosity.

You rolled your eyes, refusing to meet his gaze. “Yes, her. The one you met in the previous ball? The waitress? The one you’ll be introducing to your family at the gala, remember? Does she ring a bell?”

“We’re still talking about that?” Yoongi asked, his tone laced with amusement as he leaned back into the plush sofa. The glass of champagne in his hand tilted slightly, catching the light as he swirled the golden liquid. “Why are you so invested in my relationship with her?”

“I’m just concerned and curious as a friend.”

He chuckled softly, setting his glass down on the table beside him. “Curious, huh? And here I thought you were just jealous.”

Your eyes widened in disbelief. “Jealous?”

Yoongi leaned forward slightly, resting his elbows on his knees, his gaze never leaving yours. “You keep bringing her up. You’re obsessed with the idea of me introducing her to my family, of me texting her. You sure this isn’t just about you not wanting to share me?”

Your face burned, and you turned away, pretending to adjust the dress in the mirror. “You’re ridiculous and I refuse to discuss this further,” you muttered. “I’m going to buy this!” You announced before stalking back to the fitting room to avoid wondering about why your heart was skipping a beat and why you shouldn’t venture into that.

You were huffing as you tried to reach for the zipper behind you when the curtain suddenly opened and Yoongi stepped in, making the room felt impossibly small. You instinctively turned your back to him, clutching at the unzipped dress as though a protection against whatever this was.

“What are you doing here?!”

Yoongi leaned casually against the side of the fitting room, his smirk firmly in place. “Helping you, obviously,” he said as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

“I don’t need your help!” you snapped, tugging at the zipper yourself but struggling to reach it.

“Doesn’t look like it,” he said smoothly, taking a step closer. His fingers brushed against yours as he gently moved your hand away. “Relax, princess. I’ll take care of it.”

You froze, your heart pounding as his hands moved to the zipper. His touch was surprisingly delicate, his fingers grazing your back as he carefully pulled the zipper up. The sound of the zipper seemed deafening in the silence.

“There,” he said softly, his voice low and close to your ear. “All done.”

You were about to turn around when he stopped you. You met his dark eyes through the mirror, and the intensity in his gaze held you captive. His hands lingered lightly on your shoulders, warm against the smooth fabric of the dress. There was something unreadable in his expression—a mix of curiosity, amusement, and something far deeper that you couldn’t quite name.

“You’re very beautiful, princess. Do you know that?” he whispered, resting his chin on your delicate shoulder.

“Yoongi, what are you doing?”

He was quiet for a moment as though in contemplation whether to say what he wanted to say. Like in the manhwa, Yoongi was calculating. He never did anything without a reason, one of which would benefit him. “I had a nightmare the night after the ball,” he finally confessed, his voice low and almost distant, as if recalling something that lingered in his mind. “We were on the yacht. I think it was a party. You were there… She was there. I was there. And the yacht… it slammed into a rock. The two of you were thrown off.”

If he felt your body went rigid, he didn’t mention. He never broke eye contact, his arms around your waist as he told you of his dream. The one exactly what happened in the manhwa– the one where the main lead chose to save the main female lead first, only to find out the it was already late for the second female lead.

His body was so close that you could feel the slight tremble in his arms as he spoke, his fingers grazing your waist with the same careful intensity.

You met his gaze in the mirror again, and something twisted in your stomach. There was an almost predatory look in his eyes, but there was something else too—something far more vulnerable, raw. He didn’t break eye contact, and his grip on you tightened just slightly, as though he wanted to hold on, as though he was afraid you’d slip away.

“In my dream,” he continued, his voice barely a whisper, “I saw you die because I saved her first. It felt so real, like I was remembering something that already happened.” He paused, and you felt the weight of his words sink in. “Why would I save her first when I know I can’t lose you?”

“It’s just a dream…” you tried to console him. How could he remember something that happened in the ending? Was the barrier between the characters and the plot weakening? What was changing? And how could you go back to your own world when he was holding onto you so tight as though if he looked away, you’d disappear?

“It is, right? It’s not going to happen... I’ll make sure of it.”

December came.

It was the month you were both dreading and anticipating. You were almost at the end of the story, and so far, you did your absolute best to let their love story unfold without a second female lead antagonizing it. You did your part by staying away from them. One problem though, the male lead was not acting like he was written in the manhwa. He was not acting like a man in love should be to her. Instead, he was out there sticking to you like

It was safe to say that Min Yoongi went rouge.

You did not know what to expect in the annual gala. You no longer have the upper hand. You were in the blind as though you were a real character and no longer a reader. You feared that the longer you stayed in this fictional world, the more likely that you’d be incorporated in the story and no longer as a second female lead that could just easily disappear.

You needed answers on how to escape from this fictional world. Answers eluded you. Worse still, so did the only person who seemed to see you for who you were. Taehyung. Since that night, not once did Taehyung answer you calls nor respond to your numerous messages. You tried asking your trusted staff about him, but even they were mummed. It was only your closest maid who whispered to you what transpired and how Taehyung’s budding business empire had crumbled overnight, crushed under the weight of lawsuits—tax evasion, fraud, and other accusations you couldn’t fathom. The news left you hollow. You hadn’t seen this coming. The man who had been your one source of normalcy, the one who made you feel like a real person instead of a pawn in someone else’s story, had disappeared into the shadows of scandal. You thought to yourself that maybe you really didn’t know him at all and that it was best to just focus on how to once and for all, leave this universe.

But who could you ask?

You continued anxiously tapping your heels on the marbled flooring, observing the guests. You were in the corner, trying to hide in the shadows so you could freely look for her. He would be bringing her, right?

Where is she?

Your eyes scanned the room again, trying to keep your presence hidden in the shadows. The guests were mingling, lost in the glitter of conversation and champagne. Laughter bubbled up in the air, but none of it felt real. Not like it should have. None of this was real, in fact. This was a fictional world where you were stuck in.

You wondered what would happen if you stopped playing her role. But before you could dwell on that thought, the door opened again, and you stiffened. You were expecting to see the main female lead, yet instead, it was Yoongi. The man of the hour. He entered the room and all the guests he passed greeted and congratulated him for setting another record in his empire, yet his eyes always returned to you. Where was she? This was not supposed to be like this. Yet, you knew in the back of your mind that something integral changed. You were in denial about how you no longer had control over this, that you might as well be truly in the story now, no longer an observer, no longer able to hide behind the pages of the manhwa.

You stepped back involuntarily, no longer feeling the courage you had faked for so long. You lost control. You had to find a way out. However, when you slipped away and turned the corner, you bumped into an old, yet dignified woman. You bowed in apologies when it dawned upon you.

You have seen her before.

Slowly, your eyes lifted to hers. You knew her. She was the woman who gave you the manhwa… How was she in this world?!

Your mouth hanged agape as the corner of her lips lifted, her eyes crinkling when she saw the dawn of recognition on her face. “I told you reading it will change your mind.”

“It’s you,” you whispered, taking an unsteady step back. Your eyes darted over her, as if trying to piece together a puzzle that didn’t belong in this world. “H-how… How are you here? What’s going on? Y-you have to help me. Why am I here? How can I leave?!”

She studied you for a moment, her gaze steady, unreadable. “You’re here because someone wants you here, dear.”

“I don’t want to be here! I want to go back.”

Her head tilted slightly, her calm demeanor unwavering. “But why? What do you have in your old life that you so desperately want to return to? Aren’t you alone there? Didn’t you have no one to love you?”

“That’s not the point!” you shot back, a tremor running through your voice. “And it’s not different here. No one loves me—no one even knows the real me.”

Her smile deepened, a glint of something—mischief, perhaps?—in her eyes. “Ah, but who do you think was desperate enough, filled with enough sorrow, to pull you into this universe?”

Your breath caught, confusion clouding your mind. “I… I don’t understand.”

“When she died,” the woman began, her voice lowering, as if unveiling a truth long buried, “the manhwa ended. But did you think the characters would simply cease to exist? No, dear. They continued, burdened by the pain of their story. Yoongi was devastated. He regretted everything—every word, every choice, every moment that led to her death. He mourned her. His sorrow was so great, it transcended the story’s limits and reached you.”

Your head spun. “Me?” you repeated weakly, disbelief dripping from your voice.

“Dear, you are her. Just in a different universe. It’s the reason why you sided with her, why you felt for her, why her character called on you, why her pain felt like your own. You are her.”

“I don’t want to be her,” you said, the words tumbling out in a rush. “I didn’t ask for this. I didn’t choose this. Please—just send me back to my own universe.”

The woman sighed, her expression softening, though her eyes retained their strange, knowing glimmer. “The only way out,” she said slowly, “is through. The manhwa will only release you when its story ends. And you know how it ends, don’t you?”

A cold realization began to settle in your chest. “When he marries the female lead,” you murmured, dread weaving through every syllable. Your words hung in the air, heavy and final.

The sharp sound of footsteps echoed down the corridor, breaking your trance. You barely had time to gather your thoughts before a familiar voice cut through the suffocating stillness.

“There you are. I’ve been looking for you. What are you doing here?”

Yoongi’s low, commanding tone sent a jolt through you, but it was his grip—firm but not harsh—as his hand closed around your arm that made your breath hitch.

You turned to face him, his dark eyes locking onto yours. They were intense, holding a darkness that made your stomach churn. Something simmered beneath his composed exterior, something unsettling.

“How long have you been standing there?” you asked, your voice unsteady.

His lips quirked into a small, unreadable smile. “I just arrived, princess,” he said, the pet name rolling off his tongue like silk. “What are you doing here? Alone?”

“I…” You hesitated, your mind racing for an excuse. “I was just talking to—”

When you turned back, the old woman was gone.

Your heart sank, panic surging through you. The corridor where she had stood moments ago was now empty, as though she had vanished into thin air.

Yoongi frowned, his grip on your arm tightening slightly. “Talking to who?” he pressed, his voice dropping.

You forced yourself to meet his gaze, but the weight of it was crushing. “No one,” you said quickly, your voice barely above a whisper. “She must’ve left before you got here.”

Yoongi looked down at you, his expression calm, his gaze steady. Yet, something about the way he held himself—the deliberate gentleness, the faint curve of his lips—made unease coil tightly in your chest. A part of you whispered that this tenderness was a mask, that he wasn’t as naïve or benign as he seemed.

But then he smiled.

It was a tender smile, soft around the edges, and for a fleeting moment, your doubts dissolved like mist under the morning sun.

“Let’s get back to the party, princess,” he said, his voice a soothing balm against the tension humming in your veins. “Your parents arrived.”

Your steps faltered. “My parents?”

The mention of them sent a jolt through you. They were a peripheral presence in the story, barely more than a footnote in the manhwa’s narrative. They were always overseas, managing their company, distant figures who left their daughter to fend for herself. Their absence was a plot device, a catalyst for your dependence on Yoongi.

But now, they were here.

“W-why are they here?” you asked, your voice trembling despite your effort to steady it.

Yoongi stopped walking, turning to face you fully. His expression didn’t change, but there was something unsettling in the way his eyes softened, like he was trying to calm a skittish animal. “Don’t worry about it,” he said, his tone quiet yet resolute.

The words only made your pulse quicken. He offered his arm to you, his demeanor so effortless, so composed, as though he hadn’t just upended everything you thought you knew about the storyline. “Shall we?”

Were you imagining things, or were the guests’ gazes lingering just a little too long as you and Yoongi re-entered the ballroom? Conversations paused, eyes flickering in your direction, a murmur of whispers spreading like ripples across the sea of elegantly dressed attendees.

Yoongi, as always, was composed. His hand rested lightly on the small of your back, guiding you through the crowd with an ease that belied the tension curling in your chest. You tried to focus on the glittering chandeliers, the music, the familiar opulence of the space, but the weight of the stares made it impossible.

“There’s our little girl!”

The warm, dignified voice cut through the hum of the crowd, pulling your attention to its source. Your mother stood near the edge of the room, resplendent in a gown that rivaled the grandeur of the occasion. Her face lit up with delight as she strode toward you, arms outstretched.

“Y-you’re here…” you stammered, shock rendering you momentarily immobile as she pulled you into an embrace. Her movements were graceful yet firm, as though she’d been waiting for this moment.

“Of course, we’re here,” she said, stepping back to study your face, her smile warm but tinged with something calculating. “Why wouldn’t we be? It’s not every day that our dear daughter gets engaged.”

Your heart raced, panic rising as you tried to process what was happening. “I… I don’t understand,” you managed, your voice trembling as you looked between your parents and Yoongi.

Yoongi stepped closer, the warmth of his hand on your back turning into a subtle yet firm pressure. His voice dropped to a low murmur, meant only for your ears, as his sharp eyes held yours in an unrelenting gaze.

“It’s all been arranged, princess,” he said softly, his words almost tender but laced with steel. “Your parents and mine have been discussing this for some time. They thought tonight was the perfect opportunity to make it official.”

Your heart pounded in protest, the world around you narrowing to just him and the enormity of what he was saying. “I didn’t agree to this,” you said, your voice trembling but resolute. “This is wrong! You don’t want this, Yoongi. You have her. And I—”

“You what?” he interrupted sharply, his eyes narrowing. “You have Taehyung?”

“No!” you snapped, shaking your head. “This isn’t about him. This is about them deciding for us. This is about tying your life to mine when you don’t even want to!”

He tilted his head slightly, his smirk returning but without any real humor. “Who says I don’t want to?”

“Yoongi—”

“Look, princess,” he cut you off, his voice soft but commanding. “We just have to act like we’re going along with this. Just pretend. Can you do that for me?”

Your breath caught, and you searched his face for some hint of his true feelings. But all you found was a calm determination that left you more uncertain than ever.

The murmur of the crowd reached you, the polite applause growing louder as you turned toward the center of the room. Yoongi extended his hand, his posture exuding confidence and charm as he guided you toward the raised platform where your parents and his waited.

The spotlight followed the two of you as you ascended albeit reluctantly, every step feeling heavier than the last. The room seemed to hush, the weight of their expectations bearing down on you.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” Yoongi began smoothly, raising his glass in a toast. His voice carried easily, commanding the attention of the entire ballroom. “Tonight is a special night, not just for our families, but for me. I’m honored to announce my engagement to this incredible woman beside me, my childhood best friend, the only woman who have never left my side. I cannot live without her, and soon, I’ll never have to.”

The applause erupted, deafening and overwhelming. You felt trapped, the walls closing in as Yoongi turned to you, his smile perfectly composed for the crowd.

“Shall we make it convincing, princess?” Yoongi murmured, his voice low and unreadable, carrying a weight you couldn’t quite place.

Before you could respond, he cupped your face with a gentleness that felt at odds with the deliberate precision in his movements. His touch was warm, grounding, yet it sent a jolt through you—a mix of dread and something far more dangerous.

Your breath hitched.

Never in your wildest dreams did you think Min Yoongi—the composed, untouchable Min Yoongi—would lower his head to capture your lips. Even more unthinkable was the way his kiss shattered every expectation, unraveling something deep within you.

Yoongi kissed like a man starved. His lips moved against yours with a consuming intensity, a hunger that left no room for hesitation. It wasn’t gentle or tentative; it was deliberate, almost punishing. He took and took, claiming you with every movement of his mouth. His tongue brushed against yours, coaxing and demanding at the same time, leaving you breathless.

His free hand cradled your face, tilting it to him as if to ensure you couldn’t escape—not that your body seemed capable of responding. Your knees felt weak, your heart thundered in your chest, and the noise of the crowd faded into an inconsequential blur.

For a moment, there was only him.

The crowd erupted into applause, the sound jolting you back to reality. The cheers and whistles surrounded you, the noise pressing in like a tidal wave. You blinked, realizing that your hands had gripped the fabric of his jacket, as though anchoring yourself to him.

Yoongi pulled back slowly, his gaze locking with yours. His eyes were dark, burning with something you couldn’t decipher. His lips curled into a faint, triumphant smile, as if he knew exactly what effect he’d had on you.

You barely had a moment to catch your breath before he took your hand in his. The velvet box you hadn’t even noticed being opened now sat empty in his other hand. And then, before you could process what was happening, there it was—a massive diamond glinting on your finger, its size almost blinding under the ballroom lights. It was familiar. How could it not when it was the same ring he won in the auction?

Why did he have this now? When was this entire fiasco prepared?

Your chest tightened as you stared at the ring, the weight of it feeling heavier than it should have.

Yoongi raised your hand, pressing a kiss to your knuckles, his gaze never leaving yours. To the crowd, it was the perfect picture of a devoted fiancé. But to you, it was something far more unnerving.

“You wear it well,” he murmured, his voice low enough that only you could hear.

The applause swelled around you again, the sound nearly deafening as you tried to steady your racing thoughts.

This wasn’t part of the story. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go.

But Yoongi, ever the master of control, seemed to have rewritten the script entirely. And you were left standing in the middle of his narrative, unable to tell where the performance ended and the truth began.

The evening air outside was cool and calm, a sharp contrast to the warmth and chatter of the grand party you had just left behind. As the crowd dwindled and the night settled, Yoongi offered you his arm, escorting you toward his sleek black car. His movements were unhurried, deliberate, and his dark eyes lingered on you for a moment longer than usual.

The night seemed to be endless. You were never left alone even for a moment. You wanted nothing more than to lie down and plan your next step. You had to, or else you were stuck here.

“I’m sorry I missed your speech,” you said as the car pulled away from the glowing mansion. “I’m sure it was great.”

He glanced at you, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “That’s fine. You’ll always be here to hear my next speech anyway.”

You returned his smile, but it was brittle, not quite reaching your eyes. Had your plan succeeded, this would be one of your last moments with him. You’d return to your world, leaving this Yoongi—and this universe—behind. The thought tightened something in your chest, but you pushed it aside.

“I’m sorry about the sudden engagement, princess.” His voice was soft, laced with what sounded like regret, but his eyes told a different story. “My hands were tied. Our families went behind our backs, and I couldn’t do anything about it.”

Lies. All of it.

What you didn’t know was that Yoongi had orchestrated everything. He had whispered into the right ears, pulled strings behind the scenes, and crafted a perfect storm to ensure this engagement would bind you to him. He didn’t care what the truth was, whether or not you were from this world. He cared about one thing only—keeping you by his side.

Something in him had shifted the moment he realized how easily you could slip away. The very idea of losing you—to this world, to Taehyung, to anything—was unbearable. It drove him to actions he never thought himself capable of, cruel and unapologetic. Taehyung was out of the picture now, his budding empire crushed under the weight of scandal. Yoongi had ensured that, and he felt no remorse.

What mattered was you.

You offered him a smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes because if what you were planning was successful, you’d return to your own world and he’d be left in this universe. Yoongi quietly offered you a champagne as the driver smoothly drove back to the mansion.

“Are we celebrating something?” you asked, eyeing the sparkling liquid.

“Just…for always, princess,” he said softly, the words carrying an undertone you couldn’t quite place.

You hesitated, but took the glass, sipping the sparkling liquid. The conversation flowed effortlessly, a dance of shared humor, mutual interests, and a surprising depth of understanding. With each exchange, you were reminded of why you had felt drawn to Yoongi in the first place. For all his intensity and mystery, he was undeniably charming, and being with him felt easy in a way you hadn’t expected.

The spirit of alcohol definitely made you forget about the ruckus that happened tonight. If he said that he didn’t have anything to do with it, who were you to question him when he was characterized in the manhwa as someone who was good?

Your conversation with him was fun. It was grounding.

Until the world began to tilt.

Dizziness crept over you, subtle at first but quickly overpowering. Your fingers loosened around the champagne flute as your head grew heavier, and before you knew it, your cheek was pressed against his shoulder.

“Yoongi…” you murmured, your voice weak as you leaned against him.

He steadied you, his hand moving to cradle your head as you slumped against his shoulder. “It’s alright,” he said softly, his voice carrying a note of finality.You tried to sit up, to stay awake, but your body refused to cooperate. Everything blurred together, and then, there was nothing.

Yoongi’s hand moved to steady you, his touch gentle as he adjusted your position so you rested more comfortably against him. He looked down at you, his expression unreadable, before shifting his gaze toward the driver.

“To the airport,” he instructed, his voice calm but firm.

The driver nodded without hesitation, changing course.

Yoongi turned his attention back to you, his jaw tightening as he studied your sleeping face. He’d heard everything earlier—the old woman’s cryptic words, your desperate plea to leave, and your determination to escape this world.

It all made sense. The nightmare that brought terrors in his heart really happened. You died because of his foolishness, because he chose someone else over you when he knew he couldn’t survive a world without you. It had been like living his worst nightmare all over again, the fear of losing someone he wasn’t ready to let go. But this time, he refused to let it happen.

He wasn’t a religious man, but your presence in this universe felt like a miracle—a second chance, no matter how strange or impossible. Whether you were the original her or not didn’t matter. You were here. You were his.

And he wouldn’t let you leave.

His gaze darkened, his grip on your hand tightening slightly.

“You’re not going anywhere, princess,” he murmured softly, more to himself than to you.

The first female lead was no longer his focus. She was gone.

Now, it was you.

And Yoongi would do whatever it took to keep you by his side—even if it meant tying you to him so tightly you could never untangle the threads.

#bts fic #yandere bts #bts yandere #min yoongi fic #min yoongi x you #min yoongi x reader #min yoongi x y/n #yandere min yoongi #daniella 6k celebration #bts fanfic

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orchidyoonkook · 1 year ago

Text

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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livingformintyoongi · 7 months ago

Note

can i request yoongi fucking his gf in his hoodie. first he will cuddle with her in the kitchen while leaving kisses on her neck and then he will slowly become horny and at one point he will say 'I want to fuck you while you are wearing my hoodie' (you can choose for yourself whether rough or soft sex, also let it be in the first person, but if it can't, it's fine, thank you in advance, sorry for my eng )

— myg’s butterfly 🦋

Hoodie

a/n: First of all, sorry for taking so long, it took me so long to start the request because I wasn't sure how to start it :( I hope it went as you expected. Second, I totally loved the idea, it was so cute and so similar to the kind of relationship my oc and Yoongi have that it was just perfect AH-. I decided to go more for something a bit soft and with a joke or two in between, hope you don't mind. I tried to do it with first person, but no matter how hard I tried I just couldn't end up liking how it turned out, sorry :c. And third, don't worry about your English! It was perfectly understood ^^. wc: 3.1k warnings: MDNI, unprotected sex, hair pulling, kitchen sex, (very) slight dry humping, fingering, breeding. taglist: @thunderg @minjianhyung @queenv1997 @yoongtism @lizzymizzy-blogg @superbbananananana @drpepperobsessed @themwordsblog @taekritimin123 @bluecloudss

"What are you doing?" whispered Yoongi, hugging your waist from behind. His large, soft hands moved lazily underneath the hoodie you were wearing, allowing himself to caress your bare waist. He smiled as he felt you shiver at the cool touch of his fingers.

"I was craving something yummy and it was too late to order anything, so I decided to, you know, do it by myself," you chuckled as you felt your boyfriend's nose brush against your neck, by this point it was almost an impulse to lean against him every time he did that, "Did you finish the song?"

"I'm still not entirely sold on it, I thought I'd better take a break to see if it would spark something new" he kissed your shoulder softly, pulling you even closer to his body. You felt so warm against him, he loved that feeling, loved how you could make him feel with your simple presence.

"That's actually a great idea, try to rest that poor brain of yours, I'm more than sure it must be tired from so much you make it think about work" you turned off the stove, turning around so you could hug his waist. You watched as Yoongi lowered his gaze to the hoodie you were wearing. His eyebrows rose as soon as he met your gaze again.

"Isn't that mine?" he asked teasingly, pulling you closer to him around the waist. Now both of your noses were rubbing together, neither could look into anything but the other's eyes. He closed his as he felt your arms go from around his waist to hugging his neck, the soft brush of your nose against his making him sigh.

"Yoonie, it's time for you to understand that there is no longer something 'yours' or 'mine', but something 'ours', your stuff belongs to me, and my stuff belongs to you" you laughed, leaving a kiss on his nose.

"I see, I guess I forgot that little detail" he rolled his eyes, the smile on his lips still shining brightly, how was it possible that this beautiful man was in your kitchen, hugging you tightly, looking at you as if you were the best thing in this world? Even you didn't quite understand, but you would never complain about it.

"Don't worry, that's what I'm here for" you winked playfully at him, running your hands through his dark hair. It still felt a little damp from the shower he had taken a few hours ago. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to finish this" you pointed to the food behind you, you hadn't started long ago, so you still had a lot left to do before you could serve the food.

"Oh right, you were cooking" he mumbled, still keeping his grip on you, "you can cook with me on your back".

"Was that a question or a statement?" you shook your head, turning around, still not being let go by Yoongi. You felt his chin rest on your shoulder, his gaze fixed on the vegetables resting on the pan.

"It's a statement, I don't plan to let go of you."

You couldn't help but smile big hearing him say that. Yoongi was not a cold person to you, in fact, he was quite sweet. He was always attentive to everything you did and said, he kissed your knuckles every time there was a red light at the traffic light, he caressed your thigh every time you watched something on TV, sometimes he even gave you chaste kisses in public. However, he was rarely this cloyingly sweet, he had to be too drunk or sleepy to cling to you in this way, so of course you were going to let him regale you in this way without saying anything to him.

You had Yoongi on your back for at least ten minutes and, although at first it seemed normal for him to give you the occasional kiss on your neck, by this point you were beginning to doubt his intentions, why on earth would he be practically biting and sucking on your neck while pressing himself against you? That's not just a simple token of affection anymore.

"Uhm, Yoongi, what are you doing?" you asked in the middle of a gasp, feeling his teeth clench the sensitive skin of your neck, sending an electric current around your entire body. He knew what he was doing, and he knew even better the effect it would have on you.

"Giving my girlfriend affection, isn't it obvious?" he replied teasingly, still torturing your neck which, after all the time he spent biting and sucking, was starting to get redder and redder.

"I know you well enough to know you're not doing this just because you want to give me affection" you bit the inside of your lip as you felt his hand wrap around one of your breasts. You were used to not wearing a bra at home, it was so much more comfortable and hurt so much less, but sometimes you forgot how much Yoongi took advantage of that to tease you like this.

"Is it wrong that I want to fuck my beautiful girlfriend while she's wearing my hoodie?" he whispered against the shell of your ear, barely biting down on a patch of skin, tugging on it gently.

"I mean, it's not bad, but I'm busy and..." you had to bite your tongue to keep from moaning as you felt his cock slap against your thigh. Yes, he was excited and it was very hard not to notice, and it was starting to get even harder not to want to help him with that little - big - problem he was starting to have.

"It can wait a little longer, besides it's almost ready, isn't it? We won't be long, I promise" he went back to lazily massaging your breasts, his mouth still moving from one shoulder to the other, leaving little marks here and there, smiling every time he saw one pop up.

You were beginning to entertain the idea of accepting his idea. He wasn't so wrong, in fact you were nowhere near the end of cooking, a few more minutes of waiting wouldn't hurt anyone, would it?

"I hope you're telling the truth when you say it'll be quick" you muttered, turning off the stove with slightly shaking hands. No matter how long you had been by his side, the effect he had on you never changed, and you doubted it would in the future.

You squealed as you felt Yoongi's hands wrap around your waist tightly, lifting you off the floor and taking you straight to your kitchen counter, "Hey! You know I don't like doing it here, you'll mess up my-" you didn't get to finish and his lips were already on yours, his hands firmly but gently firming your neck so he could pull you even closer to him. You felt his tongue brush against your inner lip and, almost a second later, you allowed him free access to your mouth. His free hand lingered on your hip, giving it casual squeezes every so often, burying his short nails in the black fabric of his hoodie that perfectly covered that part of your body.

You moaned against his lips as you felt that same hand force you to crawl across the countertop until you bumped roughly against his own hips, generating friction between the two of you. He gladly swallowed every gasp you let out as the clash between the two of you grew louder and more precise.

"Yoongi" you gasped against his lips, clinging to his shoulders as if your life depended on it. His lips trailed down to your jaw, leaving a trail of small but sticky kisses all along your neck and shoulders. His hands fiddled with the soft fabric of the hoodie you were wearing, internally debating whether or not it was worth taking it off. He looked up. Your lips moist and swollen from the kissing session they had just had, your pupils were so dilated he could barely make out your irises, your freckled cheeks slightly flushed, spreading that color all the way to the tips of your ears, how could he resist that sight? How could he resist you?

"Fuck, you're so beautiful" he murmured, leaning back on the countertop, your hips still completely glued to his. "So fucking beautiful, I can't even take in the fact that you're mine."

You were a little groggy from the heat of the moment, so it took a little while for your brain to fully assimilate what he had just said. You felt the heat rise in your face, spreading quickly to your neck and ears. If you felt hot before, now you were boiling hot.

Yoongi wasn't too aware of your face, his eyes were fixed on how smooth the skin of your bare thighs looked. He licked his lips and lifted the hoodie up to above your hips, smiling at the sight of the underwear you were wearing.

"Really, you wore one with hearts on it?" he chuckled, settling between your legs. His laughter became much louder after he felt you close your legs tightly around his head in protest.

"Shut the fuck up, it's just underwear, besides, it's not like I can guess when you're in the mood to fuck or not enough to put something nice on underneath, you know?" you rested one of your hands on her hair, tangling your fingers in it.

"I didn't say it was anything bad, don't get defensive either, honey" he murmured, smirking arrogantly at the sight of your already damp underwear, "I guess I wasn't the only one waiting for this, huh? Just look at this, so wet just from some light kissing and rubbing?" he moved his face closer to your center, brushing his fingers against your clit. He raised his eyebrows at the way you squirmed almost immediately at his touch. "We seem to be sensitive today."

You pursed your lips at his remark, you didn't like at all to accept the fact that you were much more sensitive than usual, but you couldn't deny it either, it was too obvious a thing to do.

Both you and Yoongi moaned the moment he put his tongue on you, licking your wetness over your underwear. You clung to his locks of hair, letting your head fall back. The contact may not have been direct, but that didn't detract from how fucking good it felt to have his tongue on your clothed pussy.

"Shit" you moaned haltingly, watching as Yoongi gave little cat licks around your hole only to return to your clit, suck on it, and repeat all over again. You wrapped your legs around his neck, wanting and needing to hold him closer.

"You taste so sweet" he sighed against the damp fabric, teasing your core even more because of the warm air crashing against your center. He pushed aside your underwear, bringing his fingers closer just so he could spread it wide open. Your clit was already quite swollen and your pussy looked so shiny, so tight. He could see from where he stood how it shrank into nothingness. He swallowed saliva as he imagined it would be his cock that you would be squeezing like that very soon.

He straightened in place, looking intently at your figure. Mostly was wrapped in his hoodie, but there was something about the way it fit you that turned him on in such a way that his cock was barely resisting the pressure of his pants.

He leaned over your body, one of his hands stopped on your hip and the other between your legs. Two of his fingers entered your pussy, stretching and ramming it as he pleased. You brought his face close to yours, kissing it carelessly. You moaned as you tasted your taste on his tongue, his teeth clashing with yours and his hands moving in a rhythm that made you shudder with each thrust. You loved it when your boyfriend was this excited.

"Yoongi, I need- Oh, god" you closed your eyes tightly as you felt his long fingers crash hard against your G-spot. You weren't even sure how you didn't cry out at the contact, "Could you put it in, like, now?".

He laughed softly, hitting your sensitive spot a couple more times, smiling as he listened to your moans covered in groans and gasps, "So desperate..." he pulled down the hoodie you were wearing a little, just enough to bring part of your breasts into view. He reached down to your chest, leaving a rather noticeable mark on the spot and, only then, pulled his fingers out from inside you. "Here, suck" you looked down, noticing how Yoongi extended the fingers he just pulled out from inside you in the direction of your mouth. He stared at you with those deep, dark eyes that he knew you could never refuse anything.

Yoongi smirked at the sight of you as you slipped his fingers into your mouth, licking them animatedly. You held his wrist with one of your hands, hoping that would somehow make your job a little easier. He wouldn't let you stop until all your essence was gone from his fingers and, only then, would he fuck you. You knew his ways well.

"Ah, you are so obedient" he smiled with his eyes fixed on your lips wrapping his fingers. His free hand rested on your head, gently patting it. Almost instantly he tangled his fingers in your hair and tugged on it, pulling your mouth away from his fingers. He unbuttoned his pants, his gaze fixed on how your lips were held ajar. How he loved how beautifully delicious your lips looked.

It didn't take him long to get his cock free, just as it didn't take him long to line it up with your entrance and tease it with little thrusts against your hole, barely pressing your clit with his head. He let out a chuckle as he noticed your frown.

"Stop teasing, you promised it would be quick."

"You're right, sorry, sorry" he laughed softly, leaving a gentle kiss against your lips as he lined his cock back up with your entrance, "Do you feel ready?".

"Yes" you answered much faster than you'd like to admit, but by this point it didn't even matter anymore. You were desperate, but so was he, so what did it matter?

"Good" he murmured, thrusting his cock inside you in one thrust. You had to hold your breath to keep from screaming. "Fuck, babe, you're so tight" he took a breath of air, holding onto your waist to keep a little control of his movements.

"Yoongi" you gasped, clinging to his shoulders, hiding your face in his neck. You felt so full with him inside you, you could feel him everywhere, with every fiber of your being.

He licked his lips, clinging to your waist as he began his onslaught. Normally he would start at a much faster pace, but this time you felt so tight that he didn't think he would be able to move without cumming in the attempt.

You took advantage of your position to kiss and mark the exposed skin left by Yoongi's shirt, leaving hickeys and nibbles along his shoulders. Yoongi, for his part, was beginning to quicken his pace, each thrust feeling deeper than the last, harder than the last. It was almost impossible to hold back your screams.

"It feels good, so good" you whispered between gasps, resting your head on the countertop, closing your eyes to feel his movements more intensely. Slowly the knot in your lower belly was starting to become more noticeable, and your body, responding to that intense feeling, started to move against Yoongi's, needing to reach that long awaited release that made you see stars every single time.

"I know, fuck, I know" he rested his forehead against your shoulder, grinding his hips against yours in desperation. He was in the same situation as you, and that he was moving you against him at the same time he was ramming your pussy didn't help his situation much. He bit his lower lip lightly, bringing one of his hands to your womanhood, using his fingers to tease your clit.

Your whole body trembled against the countertop at his touch, the knot getting tighter and tighter, preventing you from thinking clearly. It didn't help much that Yoongi had found your G-spot again, using that to his advantage to bring you even closer to your climax.

"Yoongi, I don't... I can't... it's too much" you struggled a bit to formulate the sentence properly, each word ending up coming out as a moan, but Yoongi seemed to have understood you, or so you thought as he leaned against your chest, kissing you deeply while grinding his hips against yours desperately.

Almost instantly you shuddered against his body, feeling a rush of excitement run through you as the knot in your stomach unraveled and your longed-for release had finally arrived.

Yoongi soon followed, thrusting hard and long as he let his seed fill your insides.

You both stood for a moment in silence. Yoongi's face remained hidden in your neck, kissing your skin from time to time; you, for your part, kept looking up at your kitchen ceiling, trying to regulate your breathing. It wasn't until you both calmed down that one of you opened your mouth to break the silence.

"You're going to clean my kitchen, and you're going to do it as soon as I can feel my legs again" you muttered, trying to sound as serious as possible. You were sure it didn't work after you heard him laugh over your shoulder.

"It's okay, I'll clean up" he mumbled with a smile, lifting his face to come face to face with you. "One last kiss before I have to clean up this mess?".

You smiled at his request, cupping his cheeks in your hands so you could pull him close to you and leave a soft, lingering kiss on his lips. "Better?"

"Much better" he nodded with his gummy smile, kissing your cheek sonorously. "Now, Miss Y/L/N, I need to get this over with before my girlfriend catches me."

You rolled your eyes in amusement, watching as Yoongi emerged from inside you, arranging both of your clothes and helping you down from the counter, "I'll wait for you in bed, I found a movie I'm sure you'll love."

"I'll be there" he whispered with a smile, giving you one last kiss before focusing entirely on cleaning your kitchen.

Masterlist.

442 notes · View notes

ktownshizzle · 1 month ago

Text

Love & Lullabies | Part 4

✎ ˎˊ˗ Pairing: Min Yoongi x female Reader

✎ ˎˊ˗ Genre: Fluff, Angst, Smut, idol!au, Acquaintances to Lovers, Reader is Namjoon’s bestie

✎ ˎˊ˗ Warnings: Yoongi is a DILF (!!!) That’s it.

✎ ˎˊ˗ Chapter warnings: slow ass burn because the series will be extended indefinitelyyyy yall wanted this 😅, so much kissing, sexting, star wars reference, THIS YOONGI, cliffhanger hehe

✎ ˎˊ˗ Word count: 6.7k

✎ ˎˊ˗ Posting date: December 14, 2024

✎ ˎˊ˗ A/N: This is inspired by an ask/prompt sent by @yoongznme. Enjoy, my lovelies~ 💕

Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Masterlist

You glance at the clock again and chew your bottom lip, heart ricocheting against your ribcage. When you sent Yoongi the text, you knew it was overdue. You were finally in a good place—and he was part of what was good.

You’ve known Yoongi for years, but it’s only in the past few months that you’ve really gotten to know him. At this point, you’ve spent hours with him in every context imaginable, from tantruming Haneul to Miss Rachel dance sessions, from boring afternoons to big milestones. But this feels… different.

He’s coming to your place. You haven’t seen him in weeks, not since you kissed in the rain, and he showed up in the hallway, not since everything fell apart and started to piece itself back together again.

You’d started in your pajamas—just a soft cotton set with peaches on them—but after one glance in the mirror, you decided against it. Too casual. Now you’re in a cream-colored cardigan with a camisole underneath and matching joggers. You dabbed on a little lip tint, brushed out your hair, spritzed on a tiny bit of perfume. Now, you honestly look like you tried and while you don’t want to be too obvious, you remember he has been the one trying for months. It wouldn’t hurt if you showed him a little effort. And at least now you know you look cute.

The doorbell startles you, and you jolt forward causing a dull pain in your neck, which has been bothering you for days. You roll your shoulders back, in hopes to shake some of the tension away. You wipe your palms on your joggers and rush to the door, catching a quick glance at your reflection in the hallway mirror. You look… fine. You hope.

When you pull the door open, there he is.

Yoongi.

Yoongi stands in your doorway, wearing a gray hoodie, jeans that sit just right on his hips, and New Balance slides—slides—despite the winter chill. His hair, slightly longer now, still looks as soft as when you ran your fingers throu—

“Hey,” he says, stalling your thoughts. His dark eyes meet yours, something in his expression making you a bit self-conscious. But boy did you miss him.

“Hi,” you manage, your voice smaller than you intended. You clear your throat and gesture at his feet. “Slides? In this weather?”

Yoongi glances down, his lips curving into a faint smirk. “I was in a rush.”

“Come in,” you say, motioning for him to enter. “When I texted you, I didn’t say it had to be tonight.”

“It had to be,” he says quietly. “For me.”

Your cheeks flush, and you quickly change the subject. “Do you want something to drink? Water? Tea? Iced americano?”

He smiles, seemingly glad that you recall his favorite. “Iced americano sounds good,” he says, settling onto the couch.

You head to the kitchen, grabbing a glass and filling it with ice and coffee. When you return, you hand it to him, watching as he fumbles with the straw a bit. You forgot just how cute he is.

You sip your drink, glancing at him over the rim before deciding to fill the quiet. “So… first day at the daycare,” you start casually. “It went well.”

Yoongi leans back, his shoulders loosening just a little. “Yeah? Tell me about it.”

“It was… honestly, it was so great,” you say, the words tumbling out as you set your drink on the table. “The kids are adorable, and the space is beautiful. Everything’s so well set up.” You pause, the memory of the morning making your chest feel warm. “I forgot how much I missed doing that, you know? Like, preparing activities, seeing their little faces light up when they learn something new… it just—it feels good.”

Yoongi’s lips tug into the faintest smile, his gaze steady on you. “You look happy talking about it.”

You nod, almost to yourself. “I am. I feel… lucky, I guess. That I get to do this again.”

His eyes soften in that way that makes your stomach flutter. “I’m proud of you,” he says simply, his tone steady and sincere.

The words catch you off guard, and for a moment, all you can do is blink at him. “Really?”

“Of course,” he says simply, leaning back against the couch. “It’s not easy starting over. But you did it.”

“Thanks, Yoongi. I really appreciate that.” You pause, then add, “I’m proud of me too.”

He smiles at that, the kind that’s so subtle you’d miss it if you weren’t looking.

You grin back, the memory of the morning still fresh. “Well, we also had a capybara mascot.”

Yoongi coughs. “Oh? A mascot? That’s… interesting.”

“Yeah,” you nod, narrowing your eyes at him. “It seemed really into me. Kept shaking its ass in front of the kids, though, which… you know, questionable.”

“Shaking its ass?” Yoongi repeats, lips twitching.

“Weird, right?” you protest, though you can’t help but grin. “The thing was strangely enthusiastic.”

Yoongi shrugs, taking another sip of his drink. “Sounds like a fun mascot.”

But then, he’s not done, like he’s empathizing with the man in the suit. “And of course he would be enthusiastic, it’s your opening day. I mean they probably briefed him to be supportive of you and whatnot. And to be that energetic despite the tormenting heat of that costume, he’s seriously doing the lord’s work…”

Huh.

You blink at him, before you decide to test the theory out.

“Haneul kept calling it Appa,” you say with a straight face. “I told him there’s no way his appa is in a capybara suit.”

Yoongi chokes on his drink, coughing again.

“Are you okay?” you ask, patting his back.

“Fine,” he croaks, his voice raspier than usual. “Just… went down wrong.”

You eye him suspiciously but let it slide, suppressing a smile that’s threatening to slant your lips.

He’s definitely the man in the suit. You’ll get him to admit it one day.

But for now, you brace yourself for the talk you wanted to have.

You set your phone down carefully, the action feeling weighted, like it’s tethered to the words you’re about to say. Your fingers twist nervously in the hem of your cardigan, and you glance at Yoongi, hesitating for a moment before speaking. “Yoongi… umm, I wanted to say I’m sorry.”

He looks up at you sharply, his brows furrowed in confusion. “For what?”

“For shutting you out,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper. You swallow hard, the vulnerability in your chest blooming uncomfortably. “I was in such a bad place mentally. I hated myself, I was dealing with so much unresolved shit that I hadn’t even begun to work through.”

Yoongi doesn’t respond right away. Quiet eyes, just watching you, letting you process your emotions. So you continue.

“Just as you depended on me to care for Han, I started depending on you too. I wasn’t happy with my life, but when I was in your place, I felt detached from my misery. Felt wanted and needed which made me feel good. But then… when Sung Kyung showed up, it was like everything I was already struggling with just got amplified. I thought I was protecting myself, but instead, I just… pushed you away.”

He leans forward slightly, his elbows resting on his knees, and the way he looks at you—tender and unguarded—makes your heart ache. His eyes are dark and steady, the kind that seem to see straight through you, but not in a way that feels invasive or harsh.

“I felt very insecure and abandoned from so many things in my past. I have been working on it though, and I feel like I’m in a better place now.”

The faintest trace of a smile ghosts across his lips as he finally speaks. “I get it,” he says, his voice low and steady. “I’m glad you’re better. I’ve been there too. Feeling like you have to be strong for others when inside you’re struggling.” He gnaws at his lip. “If I’m gonna be real, I thought you pushed me away because you wanted out. Honestly, if I were you, I’d dip too.”

“Oh Yoongi…” you start, but he shakes his head, so you let him carry on.

“It’s okay, I know my life is… complicated. Everything that happened in the last two months, hell, in the last year, threw me off, too. Like I just lost control of my life. Shit kept piling on and I didn’t know how to deal. But at the end of the day, all I wanted was to do right by Haneul, to make sure he was loved and safe. That was my focus.”

“You’re an amazing dad,” you say with sincerity. “And you’ve been an amazing friend to me, too. Even when I didn’t deserve it. You didn’t give up on me.”

His eyes soften further, and he shakes his head, brushing your gratitude away like it’s unnecessary. “You don’t have to thank me for that,” he says, his voice almost gentle.

“At first, I didn’t think you’d want to talk to me,” you admit quietly, glancing down at your hands. “I thought maybe you moved on. Or… that you’d rather I wasn’t in your life anymore.”

Yoongi leans back slightly, his posture relaxing as he tilts his head to study you. “Peep the countless messages on Kakao that’s left hanging…”

“I know, and I’m sorry for that. I read every single one. And there were many times that I thought about replying, but I needed to sort myself out. I’m a mess and I didn’t want to drag you down, or add into whatever’s on your plate. You did say your life is complicated.”

“Yeah, but I was just worried about you, because…” his eyes drop to his drink, pauses, then he shakes his head with a chuckle. His gaze meets yours again, his expression firm. “Just promise me something.”

You blink, your hands stilling in your lap. “What?”

“Promise me you won’t do that again,” he says, his voice carrying just the faintest edge of vulnerability. “Don’t shut me out, no matter what’s going on.”

You nod before you can even think. “I promise.”

His lips curve into a faint smile, and the sight of it tugs at something deep inside you. It’s such a small thing—a slight upturn of his mouth, the crinkle at the corners of his eyes—but it feels monumental. Like the bridge you’ve both been too scared to cross is finally, tentatively, being rebuilt.

For a moment, neither of you moves. You think about the way his eyes soften when he looks at you, the way his voice wraps around your name like it’s something precious. And so you think, maybe, just maybe, this could still be something.

Yoongi’s voice cuts through your thoughts. “Hey–what happened to your shoulder?” he asks suddenly, breaking the moment.

You blink, caught off guard by the shift. “What?”

“Your shoulder,” he repeats, nodding toward it. “You’ve been rolling it a little since I got here. Is it bothering you?”

“Oh, I didn’t realize,” you say, feeling a little self-conscious. “It’s nothing, really. Just a strain from running, I think. I’ve been pushing myself a bit harder lately, trying to, you know, get my life together and shit.”

Yoongi frowns, his brows knitting together. “Running’s good, but you can’t overdo it. A shoulder strain’s no joke. If you don’t take care of it, it’ll just get worse.”

You smile faintly, appreciating the concern in his voice. “Okay, Dr. Min,” you tease lightly. “Any recommendations?”

He huffs a quiet laugh but doesn’t let it go. “I mean it. You have to be careful. My shoulder was busted for years, you know. I have a few tricks,” He pauses, glancing at your cardigan. “Can I…? I can take a look if you want. Only if you’re okay with it.”

You gulp. Loud. The neighbors probably heard it. And for a moment, all you can do is stare at him. His expression is earnest, his hand already halfway lifted in a gesture of permission.

“Uh, sure,” you say, your voice quieter than intended. “That’d be… yeah, okay.” You shift in your seat, angling your shoulder for better access.

He waits for your nod before gently tugging at the edge of your cardigan. “May I?”

Your pulse quickens as you shrug it off your shoulder, leaving the strap of your camisole exposed. The cool air brushes your skin, a stark contrast to the warmth of Yoongi’s hands as they settle lightly on your shoulder.

His fingers press gently at first, testing the tension in your muscles before applying more pressure. You inhale sharply as he works through a particularly tight knot, your body instinctively leaning into his touch.

“Here,” he murmurs, his tone soft but focused. “This is where it’s worst, right?”

You nod, unable to form coherent words as his hands move with ease, kneading the aches away. Each press of his fingers sends a mixture of relief and something else coursing through you, straight down towards your core.

“You’re really… good at this,” you manage to say, your voice a little breathless. Brain starting to turn into mush.

He chuckles lightly, the sound vibrating against your back. “Years of experience. Needed surgery to get my shoulder sorted out. That’s why I’m serious about this stuff. You need to be careful with it.”

His words linger in the air, and you find yourself focusing not just on the pleasure of his touch but on the deep timbre of his voice, and the way he’s always looking out for you even in the smallest ways.

“Thank you,” you whisper, glancing over your shoulder to meet his gaze. His hands still for a moment.

“Of course,” he says softly, licking his lips as you find his eyes going to yours.

Oh my god. You want to kiss him. Shit, you really do. You wonder if you should turn fully to face him.

But then his hands slip away, leaving your skin feeling colder.

You adjust your cardigan, clearing your throat as you sit back, your mind spinning. The intimacy of the moment—of his hands on you, the quiet concern in his voice—has left your heart like it’s going into cardiac arrest. If he fancies himself as Dr. Min he better fix this.

“Okay?” he asks.

“Yeah,” you say, smiling faintly. “Better. Thanks, Yoongi.”

“Anytime,” he replies, with a small, almost shy smile.

He leans forward slightly, eyes searching yours, and you find yourself doing the same, your heart pounding in your chest.

For a second, you think he might kiss you—or maybe you’re the one who wants to close the distance.

But then he stands.

“It’s pretty late, I should go,” he says softly, though his voice carries a hint of reluctance.

“Yeah,” you say, standing with him. Your legs feel unsteady as you walk him to the door.

As he steps out, you hesitate for a moment. “Thanks for coming over, at short notice.”

“Nah, I wanted to,” he says, pink dusting his cheeks before he admits. “Is it weird if I say I’ve been waiting for it?”

Before you chicken out, you lean up and press a soft kiss to his cheek. “Thank you for waiting, Yoongi.”

He blinks, startled, then he’s rubbing his wrinkled nose with his index finger. “Goodnight.”

“Drive safe…”

You close the door and lean your back against it, pressing your hands to your cheeks as if that’ll somehow contain the giddy energy bubbling up inside you. It’s stupid, really, how much a simple night with Yoongi—his laugh, his voice, that damn massage—has you grinning like an idiot.

But you can’t help it.

For the first time in a long time, you feel like your heart is beating again, a rhythm that feels almost foreign after the weeks of emptiness you’d carried around.

So, it’s been a week since Yoongi came over.

Each morning at the daycare, Haneul’s nanny walks through the door with her usual warm smile, holding Haneul’s tiny hand as he toddles in. It’s what you’ve grown used to, so you’re not expecting anything different. But sometimes, when the door swings open, you hope that maybe this time, it’ll be Yoongi instead.

It never is.

You shake off the feeling quickly each time. He’s busy, of course. He has his music, his idol schedules. It makes sense that he’d leave the daycare routine to someone else.

But still.

The thought lingers, one you don’t want to examine too closely. Instead, you focus on the small joys: Haneul’s excited “Sarang!” when he sees you, his delighted giggles during circle time, the way he clutches Bora 2.0 during nap time.

And at night, when you’re settling into bed, your phone buzzes. That’s when Yoongi comes to you—not in person, but through his name on your screen.

Yoongi: How’s your shoulder? Dr. Min is still monitoring your progress. You: Much better, thanks. Might even survive the crossfit sesh Joon’s dragging me into. Yoongi: I just texted Namjoon. You’re off the hook. You: What? Yoongi: Can’t do crossfit with a bad shoulder. Doctor’s orders. You: Fine You: You know you’re not a real doctor right? Yoongi: 😑

Then another night:

Yoongi: Haneul wouldn’t stop saying sarang this, sarang that today. Like a little broken record. You: 🥺 My heart can’t handle this. Yoongi: I know.

And then the casual starts to shift:

Yoongi: Did I tell you Haneul fell asleep on my lap during my zoom meeting today? I couldnt move for like an hour and my arm died. You: No, but that sounds adorable. He probably misses u. Yoongi: Yeah. Shld probably cherish this while he’s still not embarrassed by me You: Definitely cherish but why would he be embarrassed by you? You’re such a good dad. Yoongi: I’m trying. But honestly? Sometimes it’s hard. I think about how much I’m giving him and I wonder if it’s enough

You pause at that text, staring at the screen for a long time.

Yoongi doesn’t open up often. When he does, it feels like he’s peeling back a layer, letting you see something raw, something vulnerable.

You: I think every parent feels like that sometimes. But from what I see, Han is such a happy kid. You’re raising him well and he’s so lucky to have you. Yoongi: I needed that. Thank you.

And then, late one night, the tone shifts entirely.

Yoongi: What are you doing right now? You: Bed. About to sleep. U? Yoongi: Same. Thinking about that night. You: Which night? Yoongi: When I came over. And you almost kissed me. 🙂

Oh, shit. Is he drunk?! You sit up, your heart suddenly pounding in your chest. Mind thinking nonsense, like if this is about to be a booty call, what panties are you changing into?

You: 💀Be for real. You were definitely leaning in more. Yoongi: Maybe. Yoongi: Would it have been so bad tho?

Your cheeks burn as you stare at the screen, unsure if your heart is racing because of his words or because of the way they make you feel. You start laughing in disbelief, and soon you're screaming into your pillow. What the hell?!

When you finally compose yourself, you decide you want to ask him if he’s being serious. But before you can even start to type, another message comes through.

Yoongi: Stop overthinking it, beautiful. Good night. 😉

It’s late afternoon, and the daycare is winding down. Kids are being picked up by the HYBE employee parents or the designated guardians. There’s only one kid left, and he just happens to be your favorite.

“Sarang!” Haneul’s little voice calls, his gummy smile wide as he wraps his tiny arms around your legs.

“Hi, baby!” you say warmly, scooping him up into your arms. His chubby cheeks press against yours as he nuzzles into your neck, and your heart melts a little. “Wonder where Nanny Mel is…”

Before you can fully bask in the moment, you hear another familiar voice.

“Ready to go, Haneul?”

Yoongi steps into the daycare, looking effortlessly casual (and annoyingly sexy) in his usual hoodie and slides. His hair is swept back today, and you have to mentally shake yourself out of staring, not just of how he looked, but because this is the first time he has ever picked up Haneul from your daycare.

The tiny tot, however, has other plans.

“No!” he says firmly, clutching onto you tighter.

Yoongi arches a brow, amused. “No? It’s time to go home, buddy.”

Haneul shakes his head, burying his face in your shoulder. “Play more!”

You stifle a laugh, patting Haneul’s back gently. “He’s been having a good day,” you explain, trying to ignore the flutter in your chest at Yoongi’s soft expression as he watches the two of you.

“Well, I can see that,” Yoongi says, his lips twitching in a small smile. He steps closer, holding out his hands. “Come on, Han. Let’s not bother Teacher Y/N anymore, okay?”

But Haneul just whines and clings to you like a little koala, refusing to budge.

Yoongi sighs, running a hand through his soft hair. And you would probably have swooned if you didn’t have other pressing matters. “Aish, this kid…” Yoongi sighs.

You shift Haneul in your arms, trying to coax him down. “Sarang, your appa’s here to take you home. You’ll see me tomorrow, okay?”

But Haneul just shakes his head again, this time tightening his little fists around your sweater. “Noooo!”

Yoongi crosses his arms. “You know, I thought I’d gained a bit more brownie points in the past months, but clearly, you’re still his favorite person.”

“Aw, don’t say that,” you tease, bouncing Haneul gently in your arms. “He loves you.”

“Yeah, but he adores you,” Yoongi counters, his eyes crinkling in a soft smile that makes your heart do a little somersault.

Finally, after a few more minutes of coaxing and promises that you’ll play together tomorrow, Haneul reluctantly lets go, sliding into Yoongi’s waiting arms.

As Yoongi adjusts Haneul on his hip, he glances at you, his expression softer than usual. “Thanks for putting up with him.”

“It’s not putting up with him,” you reply easily, ruffling Haneul’s hair. “He’s a sweetheart. You’re doing a good job, Yoongi.”

Yoongi pauses, his eyes meeting yours for a long moment. “Thanks,” he says quietly, his voice tinged with something you can’t quite place. “That… means a lot.”

Before you can respond, Haneul suddenly tugs on Yoongi’s hoodie, his little face scrunching up as he says in broken, hopeful words, “Sarang… come… home?”

Your breath catches in your throat, and your heart feels like it might burst.

Yoongi blinks at his son, his expression softening, before a mischievous glint sparks in his eyes. He looks up at you, lips curling into that smirk. “I know, buddy. I’d take her home too if I could.”

Stfu?

The comment leaves you completely shook. Is he joking? Is he serious?

As you try to process his words, Yoongi just winks at you, adjusting Haneul on his hip as he heads out the door.

You’re left standing there, stunned, as he calls back over his shoulder, voice smooth like butter, “See you tomorrow, sarang.” And with a bite of his lip, he’s gone. Taking the rest of your sanity with him.

The lights are dimmed, the daycare is quiet, and the faint smell of crayons and hand sanitizer lingers in the air as you finish locking up for the night. It’s been a long day, but instead of feeling tired, you’re restless. Yoongi’s words plague your mind. From the time he brought up the almost kiss over Kakao and that quip he dropped when he picked up Han the other day.

Now you’re sitting in a bus stop near HYBE, gripping your phone tightly, staring at Namjoon’s contact. You’ve already typed and deleted three texts. Why is this so hard? Finally, you force yourself to type something and hit send before you can overthink it again.

You: Are you with Yoongi right now?

A reply pings back almost immediately.

Namjoon: Nope, but why? 👀

You groan. Of course, Namjoon would latch onto that. You can practically hear his teasing tone in your head.

Before you can second-guess yourself again, you press the call button. He picks up after two rings, and before he can get a word in, you rush to say, “Don’t. Just—don’t say anything stupid, Joon.”

“Yo?? Me? Stupid? Never,” Namjoon says, his voice dripping with mock innocence. “But fine, what’s up?”

You hesitate, fiddling with the strap of your bag. “I need your help.”

There’s a beat of silence before Namjoon responds, his voice laced with amusement. “Okay, what kind?”

“Not the kind where you get to tease me endlessly,” you say, narrowing your eyes even though he can’t see you. “Just… can you get me to Yoongi’s studio?”

Namjoon is silent for a moment, and you almost think the call has dropped, but then he laughs. Hard. The kind of laugh that makes you want to hang up and never speak to him again.

“Joon!”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” he wheezes, barely catching his breath. “My baby's all grown up. I’m so proud of you.”

“Stoppp,” you mutter, your face heating up. “I just… there's something I need to say to him.”

“Uh-huh,” he drawls, clearly unconvinced. “And this ‘something’ couldn’t wait until, I don’t know, Monday?”

“Namjoon!”

“Alright, alright,” he says, the teasing note in his voice softening. “I’ll text you the access code to his floor. Yoongi’s probably in there working himself into the ground anyway. He’ll be happy to see you.”

You breathe a sigh of relief. “Okay…Thanks..”

“Use protection,” he says, his grin practically audible. “His kid’s still a baby.”

“GOODBYE, Joon.” You hang up to the sound of his laughter. Such an ass.

Fifteen minutes later, you’re standing in front of Genius Lab, Yoongi’s private sanctuary. The dimly lit hallway is eerily quiet, the only sound coming from the hum of a vending machine down the hall. Your eyes fall on the cat flipping you off on the doormat, bold letters reading: GO AWAY.

Yeah, okay. Maybe you should.

So you stand there, shifting your weight from one foot to the other. What are you doing? What’s the plan here?

You didn’t think this through. Not really. It feels reckless—like the day you went to his apartment and found Sung Kyung there with Haneul. You swallow hard, trying to push the memory away. You can’t think about that now.

Taking a deep breath, you raise your hand and knock. Once. Twice.

Nothing.

You start to think maybe you should leave. Maybe this was a shitty idea. Maybe you should turn around and—

The door swings open.

Yoongi stands there, his expression caught somewhere between surprised and exhausted. His hair is slightly mussed, probably from running his hands through it, and he’s wearing a black hoodie with the sleeves of one arm pushed up to his elbows. His eyes widen when he sees you.

“Teacher Sarang,” he says slowly, like he can’t quite believe you’re standing in front of him.

“Hi,” you manage, gnawing on your bottom lip.

For a moment, neither of you moves.

Yoongi glances past you, his brows furrowing slightly. “What are you doing here? It’s late.”

“I know,” you say quickly, gripping the strap of your bag tighter. “I– I just… I wanted to talk. If you’re not busy.”

He blinks, his eyes scanning your face like he’s searching for something. Then he steps aside, holding the door open wider. “No, yeah, come in.”

You take a tentative step inside, the familiar scent of coffee and faint traces of cologne washing over you. The studio is dimly lit, the soft glow of monitors reflecting off sleek black walls. It’s minimalist but warm, the kind of space you’d expect from someone like him. There’s a quiet energy to it, one that feels a little intimidating.

Yoongi closes the door behind you, leaning against it. “So,” he says, his tone careful but not unkind. “What’s on your mind?”

“Honestly,” you take a deep breath, staring at your socks before you lift your eyes to meet his gaze. “You.”

“Oh…” His brows shoot up in surprise, but the smirk that tugs at his lips betrays him. He straightens, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Oh?” you parrot as realization dawns on you. The look on his face? Like he has planned this all along. Like all the things he’s been saying and doing is part of an elaborate Jedi mind trick he played on you. And now you’re here—right where he wants you.

A quiet laugh escapes his lips as he lets you stew in your own nerves. He doesn’t move—just stands there, waiting, like he knows exactly what you’ll do next.

You take a step forward, then another, closing the distance until you’re toe-to-toe with him. The smirk growing on his face is both sexy and infuriating as shit. But okay, you remind yourself, he’s been the one waiting on you, chasing you… It’s time to put your big girl pants on.

“I wasn’t planning this,” you admit, letting your bag drop to the floor. “Your doormat’s rude by the way. But… Been thinking about what you texted. If it would have been so bad… if we…”

“You’ve been thinking about that?” He tilts his head to the side like he’s trying to follow your train of thought. He licks his lips, maybe subconsciously, but your eyes are drawn to it like a magnet.

“Not just that. Don’t act all innocent. You’ve been planting all these little seeds in my head lowkey for weeks, Min Yoongi.”

His gummy grin widens. “No idea what you’re talking about.”

“Suspicious as fuck…” You huff, your fingers reaching for the drawstrings of his hoodie. You tug on them playfully, your gaze flicking up to meet his. “And saying that shit in front of your own kid?”

“Damn,” He full-on chuckles, shoulders bobbing as he looks up to avoid your accusatory gaze.

After a while, he looks down. “And you came all the way here just to call me out?” He challenges, voice dropping dangerously lower. “Or are you finally gonna do something about it?”

Your pulse quickens as the distance between you shrinks, his presence so close it feels like it’s wrapping around you. You swallow hard. The thread holding your resolve together snaps.

And then it happens.

You close the space between you, your lips meeting his in a kiss that’s every bit as desperate as you’ve imagined it would be. There’s no hesitation with him, like he knows you are going to pounce and he is ready to be devoured. This mf–

Your hands tangle in his hair, pulling him closer as his arms wrap around your waist, steadying you against him. The way your lips move is fierce, breathless, like neither of you has the patience to take it slow. His tongue swipes against yours, curling in just the perfect way to turn your legs into jelly. Then, his grip tightens to spin you around and–shit–your back hits the door.

Hot and heavy, he breathes your name against the crook of your neck sending electric currents down to your fingertips. You’re easily coming undone with every graze of his soft lips, his wet tongue as it licks a stripe of skin from your neck towards the shell of your ear and the haze of lust is pulling you under slowly but surely.

But you’re not content to stay there. You push him forward, your lips locked again with his as you guide him toward the couch.

He follows easily. When the back of his knees hit the couch, he sits heavily, pulling you down with him so you’re straddling his lap.

You open your eyes and you find him locked on you, dark and all-consuming. But then something else catches your eye from your periphery, like there’s another pair of orbs vying for your attention.

“GAHH! The fuck is that?!” you push yourself to a standing position, pointing towards…

The head of the capybara mascot.

Yoongi immediately turns crimson, his ears burning as he runs a hand through his hair.

“Knew it,” you say, staring at him in amusement.

“Fuck.” He groans, slumping back against the couch as he covers his face with his hands. “This is literally the worst way you could have found out.”

“Why the hell didn’t you just tell me?!”

“Because I didn’t know if you wanted me there,” he mutters, peeking at you through his fingers. “I just… I wanted to support you. And obviously I wanted to see Han off on his first day so the costume was—” He pauses, clearly regretting his life choices. “Seemed like a good idea.”

Then it hits you—the exaggerated enthusiasm, the ass-shaking, the way Haneul kept calling the mascot Appa. You burst out laughing, unable to hold it in.

Yoongi groans again. “This is so embarrassing.”

You climb onto his lap, straddling him without thinking, and gently cup his puffy cheeks between your palms. “No, no, it’s cute.”

“You’re never going to let this shit go, are you?”

“Not a chance.”

The laughter fizzles out, replaced by a quieter kind of warmth as you shift closer. His fingers tighten slightly on your hips, grounding you in a way that feels steady and sure.

“I wanted to be there for you,” he says softly, his voice low and sincere. “I didn’t know how to do it without… pushing too much.”

Your heart swells at his words, and you turn to face him, your gaze meeting his. “You didn’t have to do all that, Yoongi,” you say, your voice just as soft. “But it means a lot that you did.”

His lips quirk into a small, almost shy smile.

“Thank you,” you whisper, leaning in to press a soft kiss to his cheek. When he lets out a quiet sigh, you get bolder, letting your lips trail down to the corner of his jaw and then just barely grazing his neck.

Yoongi’s breath hitches, hands twitching slightly where they rest on your back. “Y/N…”

You pull back just enough to meet his eyes, a mischievous grin spreading across your face. “I like this look on you,” you tease, your thumb brushing over the faint pink blooming on his cheeks. “My shy little baby boy…”

He narrows his eyes on you, hands settling more firmly on your waist. “Don’t push it,” he warns, but there’s no heat to his words, only fondness.

Suddenly, a knock sounds on his door.

“Yoongi-hyung…” the voice calls out. “You still alive in there?”

“Fuck off, Hobi. I’m busy.”

“There’s an extra pair of shoes out here. And I thiiiink I’ve seen it at the daycare.”

You meet Yoongi’s eyes and he’s barely suppressing a grin. He shrugs, as if to say, it’s up to you if you wanna soft launch this thing.

Eh, why not?

“Hello, Jeonghyeon’s appa,” you call out, confirming his suspicion.

You hear giggles and then a rap on the door. “Wow y’all really not gonna let me in, huh?”

“GOODBYE Hobi.” You and Yoongi say in unison, and then you burst out laughing.

“Bye, lovebirds.”

“Did he need you for anything?”

“Yeah, actually,” Yoongi sighs, scratching the back of his neck. “Been working on a track that’s due tonight. Actually it’s been due and this is my last extension.”

“Oh,” you pout.

“Don’t pout, pretty girl.”

“I guess you’re gonna have to kick me out now.”

“Not because I want to. You're welcome to stay, but you might have better things to do.”

“S fine. I’ll go…” you stand up, planning to collect your bag where you dropped it when Yoongi pulls you back down by your belt loops, your full weight settling on him. He doesn’t seem to mind as he cages your body against his strong arms, leaning you both back so his chin can rest on your shoulder, the one without the strain.

“I am so happy you came,” he mumbles against the fabric of your top.

“I haven’t. But you better make me. Soon.”

His chest shakes against your back, “You’re horrible.”

You stay wrapped in his arms for a while, neither of you saying much, the silence warm and comfortable. But eventually, the moment comes when you know it’s time to leave. With a reluctant sigh, you sling your bag over your shoulder and turn to go—only to find Yoongi already on you, his lips capturing yours once more.

“Yoongi—mmmph…” you giggle, pushing him away lightly. “You're never gonna get work done.”

“Let me take you to dinner tomorrow.”

“Okay.”

He catches your wrist, pulling you back for one last kiss—this one softer, slower—before pushing the door open for you.

“Text me when you get home,” he says and you nod.

You leave the studio with your heart in overdrive, the ghost of his touch still lingering on your skin. By the time you’re in the elevator, you’re grinning like crazy, excitement bubbling in your chest.

Saturday can’t come fast enough.

That night—

You: Are u still in the studio? Yoongi: Yeah :( You: Good luck with your track. I’m going to bed. Gnyt. Yoongi: But i miss you.……….. You: lol You: What do you want? Yoongi: What can you offer? 😇

You sit up on your bed, pulse kicking up again, the way it usually does when Yoongi is involved. Is he really asking for…?

Fuck okay you’ll bite.

You let the strap of your thin cami fall on your shoulders, angle your phone camera so it’s aimed at your cleavage.

You compose the money shot: one hand softly grasps one of your breasts making it almost spill out of your top. Your other nipple, taut and perky, its outline faintly visible against the fabric. Just the perfect visual to tease and still leave a bit of mystery.

You get a few shots and send what you think is the best one.

You: [image attached] Yoongi: fuck Yoongi: baby you’re so sexy You: I’m baby now? What happened to Teacher Sarang Yoongi: idk she definitely not the one sending nudes You: stfu Yoongi: Go away im busy now You: GOODBYE yoongi Yoongi: pick you up at 7? You: If you make it worth my while Yoongi: [image attached]

Oh you’re dead. It’s a shot of his very pink knuckles, his very veiny hands grasping his very hard cock against his dark grey sweats.

You: shit You: yes you may pick me up at 7

Your head is spinning when you cozy up under your blanket and bury your head in your pillows.

Not knowing that come morning your head will be spinning for an entirely different reason.

Dispatch Breaking News: SUGA of BTS and Actress Lee Sung Kyung In A Relationship Congratulations to the couple.

Part 4.5 >

A/N: Ahhhhhhh 🥲 I was initially gonna end it in the part where Yoongi opens the door to his studio and you say Hi.

But decided last minute to throw y’all a bone(r) and extend the scene a bit, in the spirit of Christmas. But that also meant getting to that awful last bit… another dun dun dun

Hope you all liked it still! See you at the comments. As per usual, tell me what you liked, hated, etc etc. Shout at me or whatever!

I always appreciate your feedback. And if you are able to, reblogs are also amazing. :)

Thanks for reading you lovely, beautiful human xo

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dollfaceksj · 1 year ago

Text

the pink pill | myg version (m) — “no one else”

➥ banner by @jkndigo.

➥ PAIRING: yoongi x fem!reader

➥ SUMMARY: In each of these universes, you find yourself consuming what is known as the pink pill. This pill is essentially a drug that enhances your libido to the max and you’ll quite literally never experience arousal like you do when you’ve taken this pill. Thankfully, in each universe, there’s a man that’s ready to help you explore and reach your peak of sexual euphoria.

➥ GENRE: smut ⋆ porn with plot ⋆ exes

➥ CATEGORY: one-shot [part of the pink pill series]

➥ WARNINGS: explicit sexual content, angst, exes but also idiots, degradation kink, unprotected sex (dont be like them), rough sex but also love-making??, did i mention a bit of angst, multiple positions guys yoongi is catching up for missing u all those times likeee, spankingggg, making out w tongue, overstimulation, claiming/possessiveness, multiple orgasms for reader, extremelyhorny!reader, cocky exboyfriend!yoongi…. yeah., hes a sick son of a bitch but thats why we like him besides he’s pretty tame in this i have worse yoongi’s up my sleeve this is nothin, neither of you have moved on, mutual pining but mutual STUBBORNNESSSSS for fucks sake, filthy words, creampie, oral sex (f. rec), embarrassingly quick climaxes likeee, minors DNI

➥ WORDCOUNT: 9.8k

a/n: and at last, yoongi’s ver of the pink pill is finally out!!! thank you for loving jk’s version! i hope you enjoy yoongi’s. beware of a bit of angst and complicated feelings<33

⋆ TAGLIST ⋆

⋆ MASTERLIST & CONCEPT VIDEO ⋆

Your trembling thumb hovers over the blue arrow next to your unsent message, eyes scanning over the message over and over again. Your heart might implode in your chest the moment you hit send, which is why you’ve been staring at the message that would cause more cons than pros for the past 5 minutes.

Well, would it, though? It’s just a favor. You need a favor.

It’s like your brain is talking directly to your heart. Your brain is telling you how bad of an idea this is whilst your heart is just rolling its non-existent eyes at the nagging, as if your heart isn’t about to slide up your airways into your esophagus, travel straight up your burning throat and launch out of your mouth. You need to calm down.

The aggravating lump in your throat doesn’t let up.

And that’s when the pad of your thumb impulsively hits the damn blue arrow that’s been mockingly staring at you for the past few minutes.

[11:12PM]

from: You

to: Ignore

can you come over

Once the small letters that say ‘delivered’ pop up under your blue message, you internally scream into the void. Your eyes stay glued to your phone, the back of your phone is becoming slimy in your grasp due to the sweat your palms are rapidly producing.

You barely blink as you stare at the screen, your lips twitching as you wait and attempt to ignore the anxiety bubbling in your chest.

Your gaze slowly shifts upwards on the conversation, rereading old messages. The last you heard from him was 4 months ago. The two of you broke up around 9 months ago but still slept together for a good 2-3 months after.

The last message between you two from 4 months ago was you asking him when he could come pick up the rest of his shit. He came, picked up his shit and that’s when you last saw him. You barely exchanged any words. You had anticipated having sex one last time but he just wordlessly collected his stuff and left.

So, it’s understandable why you’d be so worried about asking him to come over and… well, ask him if he can fuck the shit out of you.

Your heart plummets into the pit of the earth when you notice the ‘delivered’ has turned into ‘read 11:13PM’.

Fuck. Fuck. FUCK.

He’s not responding.

Why is he not responding?

One minute passes. Two minutes pass. Three minutes. Four.

You’ve been staring at your phone the entire time and not once did the bubble that indicates he’s typing pop up.

What if he doesn’t even want to talk to you?

Fuck.

What the fuck were you even thinking?

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After cleaning up the coffee table that was covered in snacks and empty cans that you used to take your mind off the excruciating arousal pooling in your core, you start heading into your once-shared bedroom with your head held down. It’s been 12 minutes since you sent that message and you haven’t gotten a response.

You’re a damn loser.

You plan to start slipping out of your plain shirt and shorts, cringing when you realize you’ve completely soaked through your cotton shorts. How fucking embarrassing. What the hell is in that pill?

Right as your fingers tuck under the hem of your shorts to pull them down your legs, you hear a rhythmic knock on your front door.

What? Who could…

Wait.

It possibly couldn’t be.

The lump returns to your throat at lightning speed as you start heading down your corridor, sluggishly dragging your feet across the floor.

You press your hand flat against the door in an attempt to gather your thoughts and collect your breath before you slowly start opening up, his familiar feline eyes staring at you with an agitated look pooling in them.

“What do you want?” He doesn’t even have the decency to greet you, he just stands there with his hands shoved into the pockets of his sweatpants.

You quietly swallow as you cross your arms over your chest, stepping to the side to wordlessly invite him in. When he gives you a raised eyebrow in confusion, you say, “I don’t need my neighbors hearing my business.”

The exasperated sigh he lets out slightly stings but he walks in nonetheless. You close the door behind him but he’s showing no intentions or moves to take his shoes off. He just stands in front of the door, annoyance draped over his features.

You silently stare up at him, hoping he doesn’t notice your strange demeanor.

“So? Are you gonna tell me what you want or are you just gonna stare at me and continue to waste my time?” His words are blunt and brutal—the bitterness that he still holds in his heart for you hasn’t left him, it seems.

You finally find the courage to speak up and quietly say, “I need a favor, Yoongi.”

He blankly stares at you for a few moments. Humorlessly laughs at your request. Drops his head. Shakes it from side to side in disbelief.

You can’t help but glare at his reaction, fighting the urge to roll your eyes and spew insulting words at him. This is kind of selfish of you.

“Why would I do you a favor?” he asks once he’s stopped laughing, staring you down with hooded eyelids and no traces of mock amusement left on his face.

“I’ll owe you,” you say, failing to hide the clear annoyance in your tone. You want to strangle him.

“You already owe me.” His response is almost immediate, leaving you speechless for a few seconds as you stare up at him with a frown etched onto your brows.

“Excuse me? What the fuck do I owe you?”

He tilts his head to the side with an irritated look on his face before he says, “I don’t know, you wasted 3 years of my fucking life?”

You exaggeratedly roll your eyes at his words, shaking your head in exasperation. “I could quite literally say the same to you.”

He takes a moment to gather his thoughts, his intense stare down never letting up.

He decides to ignore your remark and repeats, “What do you want, Y/N?”

You swallow again, looking to the side to avoid his penetrating gaze as you think about how the fuck you’re going to ask him what you want to ask him.

How do you even begin to ask?

Hey, you haven’t heard from me in months but could you fuck me real quick?

“What? Do you need money?” he asks in a neutral tone, although you can sense the concern tinged in his words.

“No,” you mumble, the collar of your shirt is starting to feel like it’s closing in around the perimeter of your neck with the goal of suffocating you.

He continues, “Then what? An alibi?”

You throw your head back in exasperation as you groan, “Don’t be ridiculous.”

It’s quiet for a moment and it makes you look at him. You notice he’s staring straight at you like he’s trying to figure out what’s going on and what you aren’t telling him.

“Need some lovin’?” he asks with a certain humorous tone, the joke causing you to glance up at him through your lashes with big eyes.

It seems like only then that he takes notice of your swollen lips, your dilated pupils, the thin layer of sweat on your forehead and the quickened breathing with the way his eyes scan your entire face and the frown on his brows slowly disappearing when the realization dawns on him.

He narrows his eyes at you and his hands leave his pockets, swiftly moving to cross over his chest as his lips twitch, something you can only describe as him trying to stifle a smirk. “You actually asked me to come over so I could come fuck you?”

Your mind travels at incomprehensible speed to come up with an answer, leaving you scrambled and almost stuttering. You blurt out, “It’s your fault.”

This makes his brows pinch together in utter confusion. “How the hell is it my fault?”

A deep sigh pushes past your lips as you drop your arms from your chest, hands resting on your hips as you look at the floor in shame. “I was cleaning shit up and I came across that dumb pink pill you bought that you wanted me to try but never got the chance to,” you explain, peeking up at him through your lashes momentarily before averting your gaze again.

“Pill? What pink pill?” he repeats, the frown on his face deepening further as the word leaves his mouth.

“Yes, that stupid pink pussycat pill, Yoongi. We bought it as a joke to try on our anniversary but then we had that stupid fight.” You try to get him to recall the events of a year ago, the quick wince on his face at the mention of your anniversary fight doesn’t go unnoticed by you. “Anyway, I didn’t want it to go to waste and I was wondering what it might feel like or if it even works. So, I took it earlier today, for shits and giggles.”

He slowly nods to your words as the memories come back to him, seemingly remembering how excited he was for you to take that pill. “So, I reckon the pill is doing what it said it would?”

You merely grunt in response.

He’s silent for a few seconds before quietly chuckling, shaking his head. His chuckle is so deep and sultry, it shoots a tingle right down your soaked panties.

You huff, “What’s so amusing, you dickhead?”

He glances at you through his brows for a moment before averting his gaze, his eyes roaming his surroundings as he looks around your once-shared home. “I’m just flattered, is all.”

“Flattered?” you repeat, a disapproving frown on your features. He’s turning this entire thing into a compliment for himself.

You really can’t fucking stand him.

“You could’ve flaunted that pretty face out at some bar and gotten someone to fuck you without needing to offer any favors,” he explains, giving you a glimpse of his thought process, those words making your body heat up all over again.

Damn him.

You know Yoongi has always found you insanely attractive but him so nonchalantly reminding you has set your insides aflame.

“You know I don’t do that stuff,” you mumble with a shake to your head.

His bitter, humorless chuckle booms in your ears. Why does it sound like he’s literally inside your head? “That’s exactly how we met, you dirty liar.” He reminds you of how his hips were slamming into yours an hour after you met him and no rebuttal comes to your mind.

You silently stare at him, bringing your hand up to wipe some of the sweat off your hairline with the back of your index finger.

“Yeah, you know what? I don’t know why I even texted you. You can leave,” you say, a surge of anger coursing through your veins as you reach for the door handle but Yoongi is quicker than you.

His hand quickly reaches for yours, fingers wrapping tightly around your wrist. “I can tell you why you did,” he quips, cockily.

You glare up at him but make no effort to remove his hand from your skin, the single touch of his skin against yours sends lava down all your veins and every single one of your nerve-endings. Fuck, you wish you could pounce him right fucking now. You finally gather your thoughts and say, “Oh, please, do enlighten me.”

“You asked me here because you don’t want all that arousal to go to waste on someone that doesn’t know your body like I do.” He starts closing the gap between you two, face closing in on yours. “They won’t do the things you like.”

Your throat tightens at his proximity and his words, your lungs seconds away from imploding in between your ribcage.

“And you’re too shy to tell them because you know you like filthy things.” He moves his other hand up to trace the shell of your ear with the tip of his index finger, his eyes glued to how his finger glides down your skin.

If he noticed his touch instantly awoke the goosebumps on your skin, he doesn’t comment on it and continues to play with your ear, fingers coming down to rub your earlobe in between the pads of his thumb and index finger.

“No one knows your body like I do, no one else.” He drops his hand from your ear to trace the collar of your shirt, the tip of his finger occasionally grazing your neck. “No one knows how filthy you are. How needy you are. How you like to be touched and kissed. That’s how I know,” he concludes.

He adds, “You clearly haven’t moved on.”

He was doing so well, too.

Haven’t moved on? Son of a bitch.

“Yeah, well, what about you?” you blurt out. You watch as his thick eyebrows scrunch together in smug mockery.

“What about me? Don’t turn this on me, sweetheart. You’re the one asking me to come fuck you.” He starts to take off his shoes, kicking them aside like he used to do.

Cocky asshole.

“You showed up 10 minutes after a simple ‘come over’ text, no questions asked.” You remind him of tonight’s events and his face slowly turns into a scowl, his usual quick witty comebacks suddenly nonexistent.

“So what?” he mumbles, not in the mood to fight you for this any longer because he knows he’ll lose.

“Just admit you want this as bad as I do instead of being smart about it,” you say, rolling your eyes as you take a step back to create some more distance between you two. You hadn’t realized he’d gotten that close.

He shrugs his shoulders with an air of nonchalance, rolling his tongue against the inside of his cheek. “I wouldn’t say as bad as you.”

Right, because you took that pill and your arousal is off the charts.

He must think he’s sooooooo funny.

“You’re a lia–”

Before you can even finish speaking, he takes a step closer and it inevitably traps you in between his body and the wall behind you. He arrogantly adds, “Want me to push my fingers into your panties and check?”

Fuck.

He shouldn’t still have the ability to knock the oxygen right out of your lungs with just silly words. He shouldn’t.

You stare up at him with a furrow in your brows, eyes wide and lips almost quivering, simply at the thought of him touching you. Damn him.

And he knows.

Because his gaze drops to your lips before back to your eyes, the corners of his own lips curling up at something he’s thinking about.

“What?” you grumble, your voice barely coming out and leaving you for dead in your time of need.

“Nothing.” He shakes his head and adds a shrug to his shoulders for extra nonchalance. “I just think after you ran your mouth like this, it’d be more fun to make you beg for it.”

Your hands come up to his chest, pressing flat against him to push him back but he doesn’t budge an inch because there’s no real strength behind the push and he knows it.

“I hate you,” you quietly say, hands still pressed up against his chest with the tiniest bit of pressure to make it seem like you don’t want him.

Unfortunately, Yoongi knows you too well.

“That’s fine, as long as you’re good to me.” The words leave his mouth in a breathy chuckle that drapes over your lips as his face closes in on yours, plump lips grazing the skin of your jaw. “You were always so good to me.”

“Why did you leave me, then?” Your voice comes out a bit choked, a big gulp following your question and it’s almost like you’re attempting to swallow the words back down. You can’t believe you just blurted that out. Is one of the side effects of that dumb pink pill being emotional as hell?

He freezes for a few seconds before pulling away and searching for your eyes. His expression is decorated by a frown and his pretty lips are pressed into a thin line.

He doesn’t say anything for a while, just lets the deafening silence settle around you. Stares at you as if one of the world’s greatest unsolved mysteries is being revealed to him and the answer is in your irises. Watches as you idly blink at him and it makes his lips twitch. Seems to be in deep thought and you can’t figure out what’s going through his mind for the life of you.

Then, he speaks.

“Why didn’t you stop me?”

His words paired with his intense gaze sends a jolt of electricity down your spine, leaving your legs to wobble like they’re made of jelly.

You both stare at each other for a while in complete silence. His familiar, black, feline eyes staring into yours so intimately summon a vine that wraps around your heart, digging its sharp thorns into your most beloved organ until it bleeds out all over your insides.

He’s right.

You clearly haven’t moved on.

“Let’s just,” you pause and shake your head free of those thoughts. You don’t bother to finish your sentence as you wrap your fingers around his wrist, leading him toward your once-shared bedroom and he simply lets you.

As soon as you walk in, you let go of his hand and reach for the hem of your shirt. You yank it off your body without a second of hesitation before tossing it somewhere on the floor and it makes him chuckle for some reason.

You turn to glare at him. “Something funny?” you snark, arms crossing over your chest like a child that wanted the purple lollipop instead of the yellow one.

He stares at you from the entrance of your room, an amused smile still on his pretty lips. His eyes scan the walls and the furniture as he slowly makes his way in, shoving his hands into the pockets of his sweatpants. “I see that you’ve changed the entire room.”

Your eyes follow the direction of his gaze, scanning around the room as if you’d forgotten what you changed about the place. “Yeah.”

He struts toward you, getting so close that he’s practically pressed up against you. His onyx eyes stare you down, one of his infamous unreadable expressions plastered on his face. “Trying to act like I never existed?” he asks, hands still buried in his pockets and fuck, how you wish he would just give in and touch you.

You simply blink up at him, your eyes pingpong-ing between his eyes from left to right continuously as you try to think of a way to answer.

Should you lie? Should you just be honest?

As if on cue, your question is answered when he lazily places his right hand on your hip, pulling you even closer to him.

Be honest.

“No.” You shake your head slightly, never breaking eye contact with the enticing man in front of you. “I was never going to forget about you if everywhere I looked just reminded me of you.”

His hand tenses on your hip, a muscle in his jaw tenses up and your eyes are just in time to catch the way his Adam’s apple bounces up and down.

You shift your eyes back up to his, blinking your eyelids at him so innocently yet so full of temptation. He slowly starts nodding his head as if he just had an epiphany and then moves his hand from your hip to your waist.

“Can I kiss you?” he asks, thumb rubbing circles onto your bare skin.

You shrug your shoulders smugly. “Thought you’d never ask.”

He doesn’t need anything else. His lips are on top of yours the moment the words leave your mouth, teeth clashing at how quickly he lunges at you.

His mouth devours you like a man starved as his other hand grips the back of your head to keep you in his grasp, his tongue forcing its way into your mouth.

Several soft moans resound in your throat that he simply swallows, hand balling into a fist on the back of your head, gripping your hair at the root.

You mewl, your hands coming up to squeeze his biceps as you try to grind your hips into his. Fuck, you’re like a fucking animal in heat.

“Fuck, I’m barely touching you and you’re this needy,” he whispers against your open mouth before shoving his tongue back in.

Your insides are set ablaze when he starts pushing you backwards with his own body until your calves hit the mattress and automatically makes you fall backwards, dropping onto your bed.

He wastes no time climbing on top of you, lips leaving a trail of wet kisses down the column of your throat to the strap of your bra as he gently starts tugging them off your shoulders.

You automatically arch your back off the mattress, encouraging him to unclasp your bra and he does.

Whilst he unclasps your bra, he coats your collarbones in soft kisses and absentmindedly throws your bra to the side as he brings his hand back up to fondle your breast in his large hand.

“Fuck,” you whisper, every single inch of his touch electrifies your body and sets your soul alight. Damn, you’ve missed this.

His thumb gently teases your erect nipple, rolling it around whilst he continues to nibble on the skin of your neck.

Your hips involuntarily buck upwards into nothing and you almost flinch at the way his breath grazes your neck when Yoongi softly chuckles, clearly finding your extreme level of arousal amusing.

“Can you just stop teasing me?” you whine, legs spreading wider and wider without a second thought.

“You’re gonna have to ask a lot nicer if you want me to do that, sugar.” He lifts his head off your shoulder and closes in on your other breast, wrapping his lips around it whilst his hand slowly travels down your stomach to your clothed sex. He starts sucking on your nipple and the effects of that pill makes it so it feels like he’s touching you all over, on every part of your body, on every inch of your skin. Causes you to squirm and moan under him like a fish separated from a body of water.

“Fuck,” he chuckles, “I should’ve made you take that pill so fucking long ago. Look at you.”

You simply grumble, “Fuck you.”

He lifts his head off your breast to stare at you directly in the eyes and you instantly regret running your mouth. “Yoongi, I just want–”

Smack!

“Ow!” you cry out, the warmth of the slap on your pussy spreading through your skin like wildfire. You instantly whimper, “I’m sorry.”

The apology means nothing to him, though.

He shakes his head. “Always running that fucking mouth of yours.” His fingers tuck under the hem of your shorts and he slides them down your legs before tossing them aside like he has personal beef with the article of clothing.

“Holy shit,” he whispers as he glances at the massive wet patch on your panties and all the slick smeared around your inner thighs, eyes practically bulging out of his eye sockets.

You can’t help but frown, though. “What?”

“No wonder,” he says, seemingly answering his own unspoken question. “You are completely soaked. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you this fucking horny.”

You whine, tucking your thumbs under the hem of your panties to drag them down your legs and he doesn’t even try to stop you, just simply stares at you in awe but your panties don’t budge an inch when you stop and decide to just give in, in hopes he’ll fall for your tricks.

“Please, just,” you yelp, “fuck me. Please. I think I’ll die if you don’t.”

He throws his head back as he laughs, his gorgeous neck on full display for you. “Don’t be so dramatic.”

“Yoongi,” you pause, “I’m so fucking serious. I’ve been thinking about you fucking me all day. I need you to. Please.”

He searches your face and seemingly takes note of the desperation and earnestness in your eyes. Shortly after, he drags his gaze down your exposed body, simply staring at your naked figure.

Sprawled out on your bed, lips swollen, a thin layer of sweat coating your skin, pupils dilated, breasts bare with nipples standing at attention and your arousal that has already started dripping onto your sheets.

He slowly starts to nod his head and in the blink of an eye, he yanks his own shirt off.

The view of his bare chest brings back so many memories, all the times he fucked you good come rushing back to you and it isn’t fucking helping your case.

A persistent lump forms in your throat that refuses to disappear but that’s when you realize that it’s not just a lump but words. The words ‘I miss you’ are forcing their way to the tip of your tongue, threatening to spill.

But you absolutely refuse to let that happen.

Just bite your tongue.

“All day, huh?” he muses, talking more to himself. He quickly ditches his sweatpants in the meantime and tosses them off the bed. “What took you so long to text me?”

You silently watch as he crawls back over to you in just his black boxers, settling right next to your body and supporting his own weight with his elbow while his other hand returns to your panties. Teasingly plays with the hem. Presses his lips against your neck. Inhales your scent.

You stay quiet for a few moments, eyes shut tightly at the tip of his fingers brushing against your pelvis. So close yet so far. “My pride,” you finally reply.

He simply chuckles at your words and slowly tucks his fingers under the hem of your panties, groaning when the back of his knuckles brush against the sticky patch of your arousal on the inside of your panties. “I don’t think I’ve seen this amount of wetness. Not even in porn.”

His skin finally makes contact with your sex, running right up your wet slit and collecting all of your arousal on the tip of his finger. “Holy fucking shit, Y/N.”

You mewl, hips already thrusting up into his hand but he simply uses his palm to press down on your pelvis.

“Stay still.” The demand makes your insides twist into a wringed out shirt and makes your pussy clench around nothing.

“I can’t,” you whimper, legs shaking at the simple touch of his fingers smearing your arousal all over your sex. “I’m trying to but I can’t.”

It’s like you have no control over your body whatsoever. You just want to be fucked.

“Why can’t you?” he quips as he plunges two fingers right into you, groaning when your slick walls tightly hug his fingers. He already knows, he just likes to push your buttons.

“Because I want you,” you breathe out, moaning at the sensation of his fingers slowly pumping into you. Your sensitivity is off the fucking charts, just his fingers being buried in your pussy without any movement whatsoever could have you cumming in no time.

“I can tell,” he cockily chuckles. His sultry laugh is so full of mockery, the type that would usually piss you the fuck off but in this moment turns you the fuck on. “I just need to prep you, baby. Can’t be hurting you simply because you’re writhing like an animal in heat.”

You quickly shake your head. “I don’t need any fucking prep,” you moan as his hand picks up in pace. “Please, just fuck me. I’m already wetter than I’ve ever been. You literally just said it yourself.”

He lifts his head off your collarbones and searches your eyes for a moment, a stern frown on his brows. “Are you sure?”

Yoongi’s always been into manhandling you and being rough but only when it’s pleasurable for you. He’d usually go down on you or work you towards an orgasm using just his fingers, in hopes it’d have you ready to take him.

So, no, he’s not used to just jumping in and fucking you.

You quickly nod your head. “Never been more sure.”

He stares at you for a moment longer but the sincerity in your eyes is prominent. He then simply spreads your folds with his sticky fingers, smearing your arousal all over your sex before pulling his fingers out of your pussy, the sounds leaving your sex almost embarrassing you.

He slides his hand out of your panties and glances at his hand, eyes scanning his fingers coated in your pussy slick.

“Fuck, look at that,” he whispers but doesn’t even grant you the time to look when he immediately shoves his fingers into his mouth, sucking all your arousal off his digits.

“Yoongi,” you whine, clenching around nothing as you watch him.

“Fuck, princess,” he grunts as he pulls his fingers out of his mouth. “It’s been too long. I’m gonna need to eat that.”

You want to protest but he’s already pulling you toward him by your thighs, settling in between them as he’s now face to face with your slick-covered panties.

“I want to be fucked,” you whine, staring down at him between your legs but his eyes are just focused on your panties.

He replies, “And I want to fucking eat you out so you’re gonna have to be patient, you little brat.”

You don’t have the time to whine any more when he pushes your panties to the side and the single action could have you coming undone, right here, right now.

He idly stares at your glistening pussy like he’s Monkey D. fucking Luffy and he found the One Piece after years of venturing the seas.

“Why are you staring like that?” you quietly ask, unfortunately not possessing enough strength to close your thighs out of self-consciousness.

With a simple shake of his head, his face closes in on your sex and he licks a long stripe up your pussy, collecting a great amount of your arousal in a single swipe of his hungry tongue.

But you’re oozing so much wetness that he simply keeps going, licking all around your sex before focusing on your swollen, angry clit. He wraps his lips around your sensitive pleasure nub and starts sucking, coating his entire chin in your juices.

“Fuck!” you cry, reaching over to pull on his roots, fingers tangled in his soft black locks.

The sensitivity you’re experiencing is too much. “I’m gonna fucking cum, Yoongi.” You’re not even joking.

“Already?” he hums in mockery before wrapping his lips around your clit again and sucks some more with no regard of overstimulating you.

You quickly nod your head and within the next few seconds, you’re cumming all over his tongue and around his mouth. A cry rips through your throat and you’re sobbing at this point, pulling so hard on his roots that it causes him to hiss in pain.

Grinding your hips up into his face, into his nose, into his mouth. You can’t believe how quickly that stupid pink pill has you levitating off the bed, it’s like you don’t even belong on Earth anymore.

The orgasm hits you like none ever before, leaving you even more sensitive. You came within barely, what? A minute of stimulation? Two? Oh, you’re so done for.

You push against Yoongi’s head in hopes he’ll stop and he does—after giving your swollen clit one last slurp.

“Holy shit.” You can’t believe that just happened.

“That was really fast. What was that? A minute? A minute and 30 seconds?” he laughs as he sits up, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

“It’s that fucking pill,” you mumble defensively, trying to catch your breath.

A low chuckle leaves his mouth before he glances down at the bulge in his boxers. “Well,” he pauses, “you should take that pill more often.”

You roll your eyes with all the brattiness you can muster, hoping it annoys him as much as he annoys you. “This is the last time I’m even letting you in here, I hope you know that.”

His eyes shift back up to yours and he tilts his head to the side in question, blinking at you with a glimmer in his eyes that you can’t quite describe.

You stare back, trying your best not to look fucked out right now but you know you’re failing horribly at it when he simply shakes his head and lets out a bitter chuckle.

“You just wanted to use me one last time, hm?” he scoffs as his fingers tuck under the hem of his boxers, sliding them down his thighs and tossing them off the bed.

A surge of guilt spreads through your chest when you realize how that must’ve sounded to him. “You know that’s not what I meant, Yoongi.”

“No?” he muses, placing his hands on the back of your thighs before pushing them all the way against the mattress on each side of your body. You know your body isn’t supposed to be able to do this, apparent by the strain in your inner thighs but for some reason, it doesn’t bother you as much.

“No,” you whimper as he uses his own weight to keep your thighs spread, sliding his rock hard dick in between your folds handsfree, but not entering you just yet. It has you squeezing your eyelids shut, trying to focus on the feeling of his rock hard cock—all the ridges and veins on his dick—rubbing so good against your swollen clit.

“I don’t believe you,” he says, watching as you squirm from the slightest bit of friction that he has full control over. It makes you want to smack that grin right off his face.

“I swear,” you sniff, not even being able to thrust your hips up for more friction because Yoongi’s weight and strength keeps you restrained.

He simply hums in response, continuing to slide his dick over your slit, completely coating his shaft in your slick. “If you want me to believe you,” he pauses as his eyes shift up to yours, “you’re going to have to beg and convince me. Tell me how what you just said isn’t true.”

“Please,” you say, no hesitation. “Please, I didn’t mean that. I–just fuck me. I swear I don’t want anyone else to be in your position right now, I only want you. No one else knows me like you, no one.”

He continues to simply watch your face twist in borderline agony from the lack of friction, the sensation you so desperately crave.

“That so?” His tone is filled with so much arrogance that it makes your veins burn with lava.

You merely hum in response and finally crack your eyelids open, just to see him staring into your eyes with that familiar glint in his. Fuck.

“Ready?” he whispers, lining his tip up with your hole and cockily chuckles when you eagerly nod your head.

He abruptly freezes. “Ah, fuck, wait.” His dick is not on your slit anymore and it makes you frown at him.

“What?”

He groans, “I have no condoms.”

For fuck’s sake.

“I mean,” you start, “you’re the last person I had sex with. Did you have sex with anyone after me?”

You’re not sure you even want to hear about it but in this moment you’d do anything to just have him finally fuck the shit out of you.

He avoids your gaze as he keeps it glued to his dick sliding up and down your slit. “I have.”

Oh.

“But it was protected, always,” he adds with a quickness, tone calculated and quiet.

Oh.

Okay.

That’s good but it doesn’t make you feel any better.

You have to swallow your emotions at this moment because your pussy is basically screaming at you to just swallow your pride. “Okay, then just do it without.”

He peers up at you through his thick brows with a frown. “Are you sure?”

You mumble, “For fuck’s sake.” Your hand quickly reaches for his shaft but he slaps it away just as quickly.

“I know you’re horny as fuck but I need you to be 100%,” he pauses when he sees you glaring at his dick. “Look at me, dammit.”

Your eyes shift to his and you childishly groan. “Yes, Yoongi, I 100% consent to letting you fuck me raw. Now, will you please just–”

He doesn’t even let you finish talking as he slides his dick right into you, bottoming out completely. You yelp at the intrusion, your slick walls stretching around his shaft so well, like it always has.

“Holy shit,” he whispers with closed eyes, the disgusting squelching coming from your sexes is proof of your arousal and the moans falling from his lips as your pussy tightly hugs him sounds like a choir of angels sustaining a high C.

You try to keep quiet, you try not to squirm, you try not to say the craziest things right now. Like ‘I love you’, or ‘I’ve missed you so much’ because you’re just horny and dumb.

“Move,” you whimper, needing more than he’s giving you right now. He hears you loud and clear, sliding out of you and right back in. The disgusting squelching reaches your ears but you can’t bring yourself to care at the moment, not when Yoongi finds it hot and throws in occasional ‘fuck, listen to that’s and ‘you’re so fucking wet’s.

You cuss, eyes rolling to the back of your head when your sensitivity reaches its peak. A few more thrusts will already have you cumming, you’re sure of it.

He continues to thrust, slowly starting to pick up his pace and he finally cracks his eyelids open. His eyes find yours as he stares at you—scanning your pretty face that he loves to look at—especially when it’s twisted in pleasure like that.

Brows furrowed, lips swollen, pupils dilated, mouth agape, a thin layer of sweat draped over your forehead and building up in your hairline.

Somewhere along the line, the eye contact becomes too intense for you. Your hand snakes around the back of his head, closing the distances between you two by pulling him closer to you, licking and sucking on the honey tinted skin of his neck.

After a while of sucking and nipping at his neck and his thrusts never coming to a halt, your orgasm starts approaching you rapidly again. “I’m gonna cum,” you cry, tears pricking in your eyes from the pure pleasure that’s setting all your insides ablaze.

“Already?” he murmurs as he leans down, kissing away the tears that have subtly started rolling down your temples. “But I have yet to ruin you.”

Fuck.

“Whatever, though. I guess you’re just going to lose count of the amount of orgasms I’ll fuck you through.” He states it so nonchalantly because he knows only he could ever make you feel like this, make you desperate like this, make you a needy mess like this.

His hips continue to harshly snap into yours, the indescribable sensation of being fucked at this angle and pace has your thighs clenching. Unsurprisingly not long after, your orgasm hits you full force once again.

A sob rips through your throat, your trembling hands grab at his shoulders, nails painfully digging into his skin as he fucks you through your high. His low chuckle rings in your ear, breath hitting your throat as he lowers his face into the crook of your neck.

“Cumming all over my dick and sucking marks on my neck. Are you trying to claim me again?” he whispers, knowing how possessiveness was big a turn on for the both of you back in your relationship.

You simply cry under him, the orgasm lasting longer than any you’ve ever had before. His dick kisses your cervix repeatedly, your breasts bounce continuously from the momentum of his thrusts and the sound of his skin slapping yours only increases in volume the longer he fucks you.

“I asked you something,” he says, lifting his head off your shoulder to stare down at you. “Where’d that bratty mouth that I love so much go?”

You simply grunt in response, teary eyes glaring at him as you slowly come down from your high. The corners of his lips curl up in a twisted smirk at the sight in front of him, you know he enjoys seeing you in this state and him being the sole cause of it pleases him greatly.

The overstimulation is starting to catch up to you. Your hand basically moves on its own, pressing flat into his lower abdomen in order to get him to slow down.

However, it means nothing to him. He simply continues to thrust into you like he’s got something to prove. “Answer me, Y/N. Do you want to claim me again?” he repeats.

You mewl, sinking your cranium further into your soft pillows, exposing more of your throat and neck to him as tears continue to pour out of your eyes.

“Fuck you,” you whimper, digging your nails into the skin around his belly button but it doesn’t elicit a single reaction from him.

He simply chuckles at your snarky comment as he lowers his lips onto your throat, sucking and nipping at it. You know he expected you to say that. No one else knows you like the back of their hand like he does.

“There’s my girl,” he mumbles against your skin. His words paired with the simple act of kissing your neck has all your insides clenching and twisting with something you can’t quite describe.

Butterflies?

Something you’re not going to admit out loud.

“I don’t appreciate you talking to me like that, though.” With one more thrust, he pulls out of you and harshly flips you onto your stomach. You don’t even have the time to react when he gently grabs your hips yet roughly hoists your ass up off the mattress.

A sharp sting spreads through your asscheek and that’s when you realize his rough hand came down on your bum, spanking you hard.

“Ow!” you screech in pain yet pleasure, every vein in your body pumping blood faster and faster as you anticipate exactly why, of all people, you called Yoongi over.

He doesn’t even give you the time to come down from that spanking before he gives you another one. And another one. And another one.

“You ask me to come over after not talking to me for months, then beg me to fuck you. I give you what you want and you still have the audacity to be so rude to me?” He clicks his tongue loudly and immediately after the scolding, spanks you yet again. “Biting the hand that feeds you. Tsk. I should cum in that filthy mouth of yours for talking to me like this.”

He shoves his dick back inside without a warning and continues to assault your poor asscheeks, rough palms continuously coming down to your ass in loud smacks.

You hoarsely cry out under him, most likely from the embarrassment because thanks to that damn pill you might cum from just being spanked at this point.

As if he heard your thoughts, the spanking comes to an end and his hands are now flat on your back, keeping you pressed into the mattress with his weight while he starts fucking into you again. “You like getting fucked from the back, right?”

Your ass bounces back against his hips with each thrust, adding more and more sensations to your body. You’re not going to last for very much longer.

He mumbles, “No, that’s not it.” He leans forwards, pressing his chest into your back, lips grazing the shell of your ear and he places his hands against the mattress on each side of your waist, supporting his own weight. “You just love being fucked like a slut.”

Fuck.

“Isn’t that right? You don’t care in what position you get fucked in, as long as you’re getting fucked, hm? Like the horny slut you are.” He remembers exactly what you like and it’s embarrassing. “My slut, though. No one else’s.”

And you admit that yes, you wouldn't just want any stranger to talk to you like this.

It only works with Yoongi because he knows you. Because he understands you. Because he loves you.

Or he did once, at least.

But him showing up at your front door, no questions asked, 10 minutes after you asked him to, might be proof of something you both are trying to deny. Not like it matters.

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum,” you moan. You’ve already lost count but it doesn’t matter, not when he’s fucking you so good.

“Cumming so quickly from just being talked to like this. I bet you’ve missed my filthy mouth just as much as I missed yours,” he whispers into your ear, pressing soft kisses to your skin in a way only a lover should. “I fucking love it.”

The soft kissing and the low volume of his voice are a stark contrast to the rough pounding of his hips and the degrading words leaving his lips.

And you can’t help but love it.

“Tell me I’m right,” he demands as he picks up the pace, snaking one hand around to wrap around your throat and pull you up until the back of your head collides with his shoulder. “Tell me it’s true.”

Now with your orgasm approaching, he knows you’d do anything to get there.

He knows you too well.

“Fuck, I love it!” you cry as your nth orgasm washes over you, your body violently jerking under him from the overstimulation you’re experiencing.

“I know you do,” he chuckles as he fucks you through your orgasm. “That’s my girl. My fuckin’ girl.”

Fuck.

He has no idea what those words do to you.

Well, it’s Yoongi. He definitely knows what it’s doing to you.

Because you are not his girl. Not anymore.

But you don’t have the energy to correct him nor do you want to. Because at this moment, it feels like the two of you never separated. Like you never spent a day apart. All of the nostalgia, love and hate comes rushing back to you. Surely it’s that stupid pink pill’s fault.

He pulls out in a swift motion and turns you onto your side before he lies down behind you on his side as well, chest pressed into your back as he pulls you closer.

Fuck, how many positions is he going to fuck you in? Is he making up for all the time you spent apart?

Now that you’re in spooning position, he gently places his hand under your thigh and lifts it up to spread your legs. His hand leaves your thigh as he uses the same hand to guide his dick to your pussy again.

Your thigh almost wants to give out and drop, your chest still dramatically rising and falling as you chase your breath.

Another cocky chuckle rumbles in his chest at how you struggle to even move now, his hot breath draping over your neck and his hand returning to the same spot on your inner thigh as he lifts your leg again and pushes into you.

Your head falls back, falling deeper into his embrace and he welcomes that by pressing soft kisses to your shoulder. “I don’t know how I survived all those months without y–” he pauses, “your pussy.”

Hmph. He’s the pussy if he doesn’t want to admit he misses you.

But then again, he was never that type. Yoongi was never the type to show his love through words but rather through actions and services, he had difficulties expressing his affection with words.

Like when it took him a year to say ‘I love you’ yet everyday after he came home from an exhausting day at work, he’d pull your feet into his lap and massage them in hopes of offering you some kind of relief.

Or when the topic of wedding vows came up and he said he finds them useless yet he’d buy you a fresh set of bouquets every week until down to the very week you broke up.

Or when he’d place a glass of water on your nightstand everyday when he left for work, whether he fucked the shit out of you the night before or not.

Yoongi always just showed you.

And now that he’s balls deep in your pussy, now that the effects of that pill are clouding your mind, now that his proximity is distorting your mind and setting all your nerve-endings alight again, you have to consciously stop yourself from asking him to come back home—back to you.

Your mind is so distorted that you don’t even recall the bad moments or the reason for your break up right now. You just miss him.

“How are you feeling?” he whispers in your ear, thrusting his hips into you at a considerably slower pace but by no means lacking in strength and passion.

“Like I’m fucking floating on a cloud,” you mumble back, body almost falling limp at his proximity and his dick rubbing your walls so deliciously.

He simply chuckles, “That’s what I like to hear.”

He continues to fuck into you, occasionally groaning and fondling your breast. “Fuck,” he mumbles, pressing another kiss to the back of your neck.

“Yoongi, I–”

“I know.”

You don’t even know.

You don’t even know what you were going to say.

But his confident ‘I know’ proves to you that he knows.

Thanks to his slow pace, it takes your orgasm a little longer to approach and thank fuck for that.

“I’m gonna cum soon,” he tells you, rubbing your tummy from the back. “Where do you want it?”

“I don’t care where you cum as long as you kiss me during it.”

Damn. Why the fuck would you say that?

Great. He just abruptly stopped thrusting. You’re such a fucking idiot.

You would have never been able to admit this if you didn’t take that stupid pill or even if you weren’t facing him with your back.

He swiftly pulls out and wraps his fingers around your bicep to turn you around, making you face him now. Still in spooning position but this time facing each other, he pulls you close, lifting your leg onto his hip as he guides his dick back into you and propping your head up on his bicep.

His hand finds its way back to your asscheek and squeezes the soft skin in his rough hand as he pulls you even closer, pressing your chest right into his.

“Cum with me, baby. You’re doing so good.”

He’s so mean for doing this. So mean for the things he says, so mean for fucking you exactly as you like it, so mean for making you feel like you still belong to him. Like he belongs to you.

He thrusts his hips into you faster and sure enough, the effects of the pill get to work because your stomach starts twisting from the inside immediately after the change of pace and his request of cumming together.

Your fucked out eyes meet his determined ones, staring into those black bottomless pits of his as he chases his own release.

He simply stares back, eyes occasionally dropping to your lips. In this moment, his eyes are everywhere you look, his breath hits every inch of your skin, his hand on your hip holds you so tightly that you think be might crack your hipbone. He’s inside your head. He’s everywhere. He’s everything.

It seems like he wants to say something but his attention gets disrupted by the sound of something buzzing on the nightstand behind you.

It’s his phone.

He tears his eyes away from yours, reaching for it whilst still being inside of you and by the guilty look on his face, it doesn’t take a genius to decipher it must be someone whose arms and bed he found comfort in after separating from you.

When he thinks you must’ve realized, he tosses his phone off the bed and returns his attention to you.

But he doesn’t owe you anything. Not an explanation. Not an apology. Not even love.

It’s quiet for a few moments, just your occasional soft moaning and his heavy breathing as you close your eyes to avoid his gaze.

Until you crack your eyelids open again and find out he’s been staring at you the entire time. Your walls tightly clench around him again, indicating your orgasm is close. “Just call me your girl again,” you whisper, allowing the vulnerability to escape your system once again.

Dumb bitch.

“You are. You are my girl,” is all he says before pressing his lips against yours as promised, grabbing a handful of your asscheek as he snaps his hips into yours and forces his tongue into your mouth.

You let his tongue force itself past your swollen lips, crying into his mouth as another orgasm sends electricity down all your limbs, making your brain explode with ridiculous amounts of dopamine and launching you straight to your Utopia.

You murmur some shit into his mouth that even you don’t understand, voice coming and going whenever it pleases, more and more slick gushing out of your completely drenched pussy. Tears continue to escape and roll down your temples, your nose is runny, your voice is hoarse.

A soft moan resounds in Yoongi’s throat when his own orgasm hits him, thrusts getting inconsistent and rough as he starts painting your walls with his warm cum, groaning loudly into your mouth which you happily welcome.

This is otherworldly.

Nothing will ever feel like this moment right here and you’re not sure whether you’ve accepted that yet.

He fucks both of you through your orgasms, pumping his load into you like it belongs inside of you and fuck, have you missed the feeling.

With a few more sloppy thrusts, creating a mess everywhere, his thrusting comes to a halt yet he never stops kissing you.

He curls his arm so your head shifts on his bicep even closer towards his face, keeping his dick buried in you, eliciting a simple sigh in content from the ex-girlfriend in his arms.

After an extra few minutes of nonstop making out with a man that was once yours, you’re the one that pulls away. Your stomach clenches with something you can’t describe when you watch him still chase your lips until he realizes you’ve pulled away, making him slowly open his eyes.

Is it guilt? Is it desire? Is it regret?

Fuck. Fuck. This whole idea just wasn’t smart.

You did your best to rid yourself of the stain he planted on you, closing the mark where he sunk his fangs so deeply into your skin, into your soul. You’re letting him reopen it and you’re so damn fucking stupid for it.

And you don’t understand why he’s the only one you want. No one else.

He stares at you for a moment before pressing his forehead against yours, still trying to catch his breath.

You stay unmoved for a few more moments before he delicately pecks your lips again and gently pulls his softening dick out of you, your nose scrunching when his load starts to leak out of you and onto your sheets.

He doesn’t say much else as he gets up from your bed, eyes searching the floor for something before he hunches over and slides his boxers back up his legs.

He leaves your bedroom without another word, making you simply frown at the ceiling but he quickly reappears with a glass of water and a damp towel.

He hasn’t changed a bit.

He takes care of you like nothing’s changed, cleaning your body up, changing the sheets while you don’t move a muscle, tucking you under the fresh covers and making sure you drink your water before opening the windows in an attempt to get some fresh air after you’ve fogged up the windows in the room.

He sits at the edge of your bed, gently tracing your hairline with the tip of his finger. “How are you feeling?”

If only he knew.

Your mouth slightly curls at the corners, a lazy smile plastered on your lips. “I feel amazing.”

Another sultry chuckle leaves his mouth as he nods his head in agreement.

This is nice.

But your mind changes when you silently watch him rising to his feet and slowly reaching for his clothes.

Ugh.

You’ve been vulnerable enough.

You asked him to come do one thing and he did it. You can’t ask much more of him.

But your heart works faster than your brain.

“Can you stay the night?” you quietly ask, fidgeting with your fingers under the sheets, relieved that he can’t see.

He glances at you over his shoulder, a frown on his brows. It seems like he thinks about it for a moment before parting pretty his lips to say, “What?”

Fuck.

Your voice goes even quieter, thinking of a way to reformulate the question. “Do you want to stay the night?”

He idly blinks at you, eyes staring straight into your soul as if you just asked him the most absurd question that you could’ve asked him. “Do you want me to?”

The neutral tone of his voice simply makes you shrug your shoulders in response, avoiding his intense gaze that always makes you feel like no one else exists in his mind but you.

Stupid.

“Y/N,” says Yoongi, quietly. Your eyes twinkle up at him, the clear look of a dilemma plastered on your face. He closes the distance between you two, hovering over your body before repeating his question with a bit more bluntness. “Do you want me to?”

Your swollen bottom lip is trapped between your teeth, veins pumping with anxiety and anticipation.

You sniffle a bit in hopes that it makes the tension and silence less awkward. “Yeah.”

Your eyes trail his features, remembering how gorgeous he actually is. How could you ever forget? His thick brows, his sharp eyes, his plump lips, his soft nose, his beautiful hair.

The next few words that leave his mouth rip you right out of your thoughts.

“Then I’ll stay,” he pauses, “for however long you want me to.”

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⋆ MASTERLIST & CONCEPT VIDEO ⋆

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