#myg

[yearofinstitutionalization]

420/638 One Suga a day while he is away

[yooboobies]

I think I'll take my whiskey neat, my coffee black and my bed at three... you're too sweet for me...♪♫ {7th-8th gif cr. 0613data}

[raplinenthusiasts]

🎨 cr. 0613data

[kth1]

romeo romeo where art thou romeo cr. @/jung-koook

[hoseoksluna]

PROMISES | myg

pairing: idol!yoongi x f. reader

genre: fwb au / angst, smut

word count: 9.3k

summary: when you needed your social battery recharged by your fuck buddy yoongi, you didn't expect to have your undiscovered feelings for him reciprocated. 

pin: promise / taglist: join / discord: join

warnings: strong daddy issues, slight dd/lg, manipulation, tiny rough treatmeant, edging, fingering, oral sex (f. receiving), teasing, mixed feelings, oc is confused abt her feelings and the whole situation, fight, yoongi counts down, unprotected sex, pussy spanks, nipple play.

note: this has to be my worst work in the whole hoseoksluna universe. i'm terribly upset, disgusted, unmotivated. i wrote this all week, hated every second, and i'm sorry to say this is my last smut for a while. i'm really struggling mentally, i'm struggling with writing, and i don't know what to do anymore. i'm posting this a day early because i can't stand this fic anymore. i can't stand smut. you're free to skip this one until i get better.

You were a folded swan, drifting upon the smooth, glittering surface of a river that led nowhere—a dead end, bearing the face of a man you’ve been casually seeing for the past few months. A man that clutched adrenaline and tenderness in his fist like a bouquet of the prettiest woodland wildflowers, on top of which perched a note signed in your name. Scratchy Latin letters, doused in ebony ink, they had more life than you did at this moment; poetry-woven experiences that had you feeling life like life should be felt—drastically, enthusiastically and delightfully. Every vowel depicted the closure of each night you spent with him: mouth parted agape, through which the sweetest moans would erupt and saturate him in a certain kind of fatherliness, pride and manliness. 

It’s what you need, laying as you are on the linen sheets of your bed, dressed down to your lacy underwear that you thought would make you feel better, somehow would recharge your dead battery that was stuck on zero percent for longer than you care to admit. Father issues, dissatisfaction at your workplace, at your home life, at life itself. You were tired, your concentration running thin as you were watching your well-loved K-drama that you have seen a hundred times before. Through your vision, your own non-romantic interest would fly by, smiling down at you in your dejected state and form. Your body knows him more thoroughly than your heart, stirring erratically at the memories that would begin to flood your system. Tongue, lips, hands. His cock that he would tease you with, giving it to you and not giving it to you purposefully because he enjoyed the sight of your desperation for someone like him—a person who has seen the worst of life, its characteristics engraved upon his skin, and yet you still yearned for him, yearned for those scars. You didn’t have to tell him, but he knew. 

He knew by the way you would so very often trace the scar upon his shoulder, either with your fingertips or your lips. You were friends, fuck-buddies to be more precise. You were aware that someone entangled in a special friendship such as this shouldn’t do something like that, but you couldn’t help it. Yoongi taught you many times to listen to your body and you were doing just that. 

Following your body’s inclination to sink into his soul that he wasn’t too scared to let you inside of. 

He allowed you to do it to such an extent that the threat of his quick orgasm would appear and he would slip out of you, distract himself between your legs, make you come twice in a row—perhaps as a playful punishment, or perhaps as a reward. 

He saw you—and right now you need to be seen, folded in your forest-scented exhaustion while the river flows on, the trees sway on and everyone else passes by while you remain fixed on the same spot, stooped in your ungratified, seemingly unnamed problem. 

You can text him, ask for a quick fuck, something he’s very well acquainted with, used to at this point—so much that everytime you leave his place stuffed full of his cum, he stuffs you with something else as well. 

A promise for the next time.

A package of something to make you look forward to your tight-knit time spent with him. The last time, he had promised to take you to a running sushi restaurant, where you didn’t linger for long because you got fed up with the way other people would steal the sweet plates you wanted to try. He had fucked you in his car to make you feel better about your innate misanthropy and while he was balls-deep in you and you struggled to catch your breath, he promised you ice cream. With each thrust that squeezed your soul, he described how you’d enjoy each lick, the details of the flavor and how he’d buy you any ice cream you wanted. You hadn’t realized it then, within the stupor of your mind-numbing pleasure, but now as you are recollecting it, you perceive how bothered he was by the way other people ruined your night with him. 

And that rips open the restraints around the butterflies in your stomach. 

You want some ice cream—and more than that, you want to see him. Close your mouth around the adrenaline he’s always so willing to fill your life with. 

You don’t know what he’s doing at seven PM on a Thursday night. You usually meet him on Fridays or during the weekend if he’s working the day before. You’ve never shown him your neediness—and there’s a certain dangerous feel to it, baring yourself naked in this way, despite the fact he’s seen, touched, and licked every inch of you. And it’s hard for your brain to comprehend that you yearn for him when your social, emotional and physical battery is dead. If anything, you should be resting as you are, get right in order to be at your best for the next time you see him. 

But alas… 

With a sigh, you turn to your other side and reach for your phone that you’ve been charging, gliding your hands down the cable, imagining it’s his arm. And with a frustrated furrow of your brows, you tap on the circle above your messages. A pinned picture of him that you took, his face caught in his gummy smile against the dark backdrop of his car interior, filtrated with the twinkling lights of Seoul’s city buildings. Another sigh leaves you, one that exasperates you because why are you so needy for him? Why can’t you be a normal girl, independent, okay with your own company shared with the fictional people that you love? You’ve spent your girlhood like this, and happily so. Why does growing up mean you need the male energy more than your own? 

Biting your lip, your anxiety spikes up, but your desire for Yoongi overwhelms it, wins. And that settles a layer of calmness over it, gives the command to your fingers to type what they need to type. 

hi

what are you doing 

The bubbles don’t emerge from the dark motive of your chat until a few minutes later, the green of his message brightening up your phone—and your life, too. 

About to have a concert. Having a shot right now for your health. 

Oh, shit. A strange concoction of disappointment and a deep, low, murmuring stimulus rises in you. The swan in you elongates her neck, interested, but still dispirited considering her options. She will have to fold back into her form, and continue on her long, somber voyage back from the dead end, dwelling on the thrill of the flirtation of the man that she likes a little bit too much. 

Staring at the thick canvas of trees and shrubbery that aren’t letting you in to see him, you think about what to type, your thumbs hovering in the air. Life dislikes you; life wants you to suffer—

A ringing tone of your phone tugs you away from your distressed thoughts. The Latin letters of Yoongi’s name expand across the screen behind that picturesque and private shot of him, enlarged, stirring your heart. Silence spreads through your mind and your thumb quivers as you slide it across the bar to accept his call, placing the device against your ear. 

It feels as though you’re pressing the side of your head against his, especially so once you hear the warmth of his raspy voice pronouncing your name in his accent, marked by the liquor he drank prior to your messages. 

Enlivened, your body is. Just from that. 

“What’s up with you?” Yoongi asks, and the swan sails a little bit more swiftly, her tucked-in wings fluttering against her feathery body. You play with your necklace, your trembling so, so terribly evident. You’re glad he didn’t video call you, but the phone call is much more intimate and pleasant. 

You huff out a noise of desperation without meaning to and cringe at yourself, crunching up your features. Yoongi calls you by your name with a tiny hint of alarm and you curse yourself, silently. Your misanthropy gets pointed at you. 

“Noth—”

“Should I cancel my concert right now?” he suggests, cutting in, and you can hear the drunken playfulness in his voice, the one you have enjoyed on many occasions. Even acted out on your pleasure from it by making him, physically, feel good about it. You wish you could suck his dick right now, right before his concert, so he gives out his best for his fans. 

The sighs are ceaseless and you don’t bother to stop them at this point, your enlivened body soaking up in a swelling, unmet desire. 

“You’re sighing,” he notes, and you discern a cube of ice clinking in his glass, then a swallow of his throat, as if the indication of your yearning got him going, got him needing that burning liquid. “Are you horny for me?” 

Enlivened, your butterflies are, starting a war just from that sole question: desire versus your mental health. 

And using the vanilla scent of their wings, they remind you of the fact that you’re an adult woman and that you’re allowed, and more than allowed, to do whatever your body asks for. And if it’s asking for Yoongi, you’re going to go the extra mile to get him. 

Brazenly and femininely—and a little bit slyly. 

“Maybe I am, maybe I’m really craving that ice cream you promised me,” you say, lowering down your tone, and you play with the lacy lining of your bra. Think you can tease him with it for a good effect. “I’m wearing a nice lacy set right now.” 

Yoongi sucks in a breath and lets it out in a sigh that is entirely redolent of you, making your mouth curve in a soft smile. “What color?” 

Your expression of a muted joy expands as you tell him. “Red.” 

He swears, raspily, and the shade of your lingerie becomes more vibrant in the dimmed yellow light of your bedroom. And there you feel it—a more intense tendril of lust slithering down your sternum, moving your body side to side against your sheets in need. And the whimper that comes out of you is more primal than it is forced. 

At the sound, Yoongi pauses. You imagine him biting his lip, the gears in his brain turning, and he doesn’t disappoint you. He never does. 

“Do you have a dress of the same color?” he asks, small pants escaping his mouth, and you smirk. 

“I do.” 

He chuckles in personal delight. “Wear it for me. The set, too. I want to see it. I will pick you up after the concert and get you that ice cream.”

Your butterflies spring to your lungs, making it hard for you to breathe. And you don’t know whether to be glad, to be happy, to jump on your bed or to get ready. All those emotions simultaneously gather in you, spreading sparks of excitement down your nerve endings. And most of all, you want to hug him. 

You want to hug your adrenaline-infused angel. 

“Okay,” you agree, prolonging the vowel, the muscles in your cheeks aching. “How long is the concert?”

His delight leaks out through a deep hum, one that causes you to tense your body in feverish eagerness. “Two hours. Can you wait that long for me without touching yourself?” 

You sink your teeth into your bottom lip. Think you can wait however long for him, just as long as you get to see him. “I can, but my panties will be ruined. Sticky and uncomfortable.” 

The hum is strangled by his strained intake of breath, turning you woozy, your fingers itching to slide beneath your said panties, knowing his noises alone would make you come in seconds. You weren’t wet before he called, but now you can feel the center of the fabric dampening the longer you talk to him. 

“I’ll take them off as soon as I can. I promise. Hold it out for me.” 

And you believe him. You compress that promise into your hand, warming it up with your body heat before you tuck it safely into the chambers of your heart—and you wait. 

You wait for him to fulfill the myriad of his promises. 

You did hold it out for him, and brilliantly so. You watched one episode of your drama with a little bit more vehemence, despite the fact Yoongi swam past your thoughts more times than you can count. You’ve never watched him perform in real life as his own private life was always kept in secrecy from his fans, but your curiosity led you to search him up online and watch a playback of one of his more upbeat songs. Dressed in a long black coat, white shirt and a tie, your mouth was wide open, as well as your eyes, as you took in his ferocious energy, enhanced by his passion, and you never looked at him the same as before. He became someone else, a figure of brutal yet tender power and it made you want him even more zealously. 

The memories of that performance resurfaced in your mind every now and then, and his Agust D persona would melt into the male interest of the show, deepening your desire for him as you dreamed. 

Dreamed of reaching different highs with him. More profound, more devastating. 

A dream that could never come true. A promise that would never flow past his mouth. 

You didn’t let that ruin your night, however. As the second hour wrapped around you and your body lacked the heat it needed, you shut your laptop and stood up to your feet, walking over to your closet. Your fingers found that red dress you had spoken about first before your eyes did, silky and sleek amidst the thick, woolen fabrics of your winter clothes. It was the only nice dress you had, one you haven’t worn before, and you were thrilled you got to wear it for him tonight. 

It fit you like a second skin, hugging your curves just right, fading into the lacy linings of your lingerie. One would have to sharpen their gaze in order to notice it—and you wondered if Yoongi was going to scout it with his eyes first or with his fingers. 

The unknown excited you, so much that your panties gained that stickiness you mentioned in the phone call. And when you sat down to slide your feet into your black strappy heels, the feeling was so intolerable that you cringed—and your brilliancy ended there. 

How were you going to sit against your cold arousal for another hour? 

The awaited text didn’t come through until you were dousing yourself in your vanilla perfume. Yoongi was downstairs, waiting for you in his car. Left my lights on for you, he had typed to reassure you because he knew how anxious it made you, looking for his parked car in the dark when you couldn’t see anything. 

Your heart blossomed two times bigger when you checked it from your window. Yoongi in the passenger seat, scrolling through his phone, the headlights filtering through the mist of the deep of the night. You smoothed a hand down your tummy, calming your butterflies, and, reapplying your lipstick, you grabbed your coat and went outside to meet him. 

He spotted you long before you lifted your head to smile at him and he reached over to the side and opened the door for you. The motor was running, keeping the warmth intact for you, and you sighed in relief when you entered it—only to realize that Yoongi had turned on the seat heater for you. 

You melt into the leather, closing your eyes, the ambience of the present moment nestling upon you like the most delicate layer of snow that dissolves when you feel a swift breath along your neck and it’s Yoongi, lengthening his arm and closing the door while keeping his twinkling gaze on you and giving you a pleased smile. 

The butterflies kick against your stomach. 

“I was going to do that,” you say because you truly were—it’s just that the snug, comforting heat he prepared for you made you want to stop and bask in it as the short walk from your apartment building to his car numbed your bones to such an extent that you needed the time to defrost. And he quickened the process by placing an even warmer hand upon the nylon of your inner thigh that the slit of your dress and your trench coat exposed. “It’s just so cold.” 

He fondles the fabric of your tights on the top of your thigh with his thumb. A gesture of comfort that diffuses life down your legs and colors your cheeks in a shade of pink that irradiates the subdued atmosphere of the car. It’s hard to breathe—and it’s hard to resist him, keep yourself cool and not swing your leg over. 

Fuck the ice cream. You want something way creamier. 

“It’s only right I close it for you after I opened it,” he reassures, the deep tenor of his voice puncturing right through you, looking for your core, and you shift your hips, the discomfort of your wetness not allowing you to relax as much as you need. Yoongi’s eyes flick down to your movement and he parts his mouth as that distinctive smirk of his divulges his enjoyment in seeing you so horny for him. “Are you still sticky for me?” 

It’s now that you take the time to fully look at him. There’s a certain glossiness to his long hair that tells you he went home and took a shower before he got inside his car and drove through the quiet night to meet you. You can smell the rosemary of his shampoo and the usual minty aroma of his body wash, blended with his natural musky pheromones and the wood, the tangerine of his perfume. He’s the synthesis of your internal woodland, the breath of the trees that your swan inhales and a punishment, all in one; and you’re not sure if you can hold out any longer. Both emotionally, both physically.

“Very sticky,” you say, wrapping your hands around his arm, descending your fingers down the bulky, wooly material of his winter jacket like you were touching your charging cord—a temporary dream come true. You enclose your palm around his knuckles, think that if he feels how wet you are, he’ll realize that you sentimentally require more than he normally gives you—that your flesh will somehow tell him and give him the bravery to do so. 

But Yoongi doesn’t move an inch. His fingers remain fixed on the inner of your thigh, digging dents into the skin as you feel the bulging of his bicep the more you push his hand towards your wetly clothed cunt. His smile falls, his eyes droop—and the energy is charged with such unnamed intensity that you let go of your pursuit, slipping your fingers beneath the edge of his sleeve as a sign of your submission. 

That quickly. 

“You promised to hold out for me, didn’t you?” he asks, waiting for your agreement, and you nod, feverish, dripping with perspiration, with this great need that towers over you. “Then, be like Daddy and keep your promise or you’re not getting anything.” 

A shiver cascades down your spine—not merely from his authoritative voice, but from the role he dipped into that immediately puts you into yours. You begin to giggle, palming your mouth as the blush in your cheeks bursts and tears of overwhelmingness add a certain glint to your eyes that sparkles beneath the yellow-tinted car interior lights. And using this fatherliness of his, he interweaves your arousal around his long, piano fingers, announcing he’s its King. 

Your essence trickles out of the confines of your panties. 

“You’re doing this on purpose,” you whine, still giggling, you can’t help it. Yoongi takes after you, blessing you with that gummy grin of his that you adore so much. Your heart enlarges. 

“What exactly am I doing on purpose?” he challenges, kneading the flesh of your thigh, and he senses his answer right away. Your essence travels to his hand, stopping there, and once again Yoongi’s smile falls, eyes plummeting to it, hand lifting—and fingers gathering that warm slick. 

And it drips onto his own pants-clad thigh when he plunges his fingers into his mouth, shocking you to your core. 

“Yoongi—”

He hums in titillation, interrupting you, and smacks his mouth. For a brief amount of time, he seems to be in his own world as he tastes you on his tongue. And then, he takes those same fingers, turns the key in the ignition, moves forward the shift stick, and without sparing you a glance, he drives out of his usual parking spot and doesn’t hesitate to correct you. 

“Not Yoongi. Daddy.” 

You clamp your mouth shut. Think you need some kind of plug to stop your arousal from flowing down your thigh. Yoongi doesn’t mention what just happened throughout the whole drive, but you do notice his semi-hard manhood poking out of his groin area. You salivate, but don’t tempt him, squeezing your thighs together so tightly that your muscles cramp. 

You’ll save it for later. 

You listen to him talk about his concert experience of tonight while the drum in your clit matches the beat of the songs of his playlist. He speeds down the road, keeping his hands on the steering wheel and the shift stick, and he doesn’t look at you until he halts the car at the first red light. 

He smiles at you, knowingly. A dirty, dirty smile that turns your world upside down, vexes you deeply—enough for you to swivel your head in the other direction to ignore him because if you looked at him any longer like that, you’d be unbuckling his pants. But Yoongi does what he pleases. With his index finger, he whips your chin back to him, leans over and grins before he presses his lips against yours. 

A gentle, gentle kiss. One that does not mirror his demeanor. 

Your walls flutter, your whole body, too. Shock seizes you in its grasp at that gesture of affection and you can’t breathe—he’s stolen all of the oxygen in your lungs. The trees sway and bend, the swan in you dances quite buoyantly, despite the fact that a storm is coming. 

A storm of your emotions. 

He’s never kissed you like that—out of the blue, at the red light. He kisses you when he’s drunk, handsy and touchy-feely as he everlastingly is, but he doesn’t kiss you just like that when he’s sober. 

“You doing good?” he murmurs against your lips, ripping away the fingers of your shock, and it feels as though you’re waking up from a dream—only to glide, boundlessly, into another one. Yoongi waggles with your chin before he pulls away, the yellow light bathing him in its shade momentarily before the green blinks and he jumps back into his own world. 

Does he really think you won’t erupt in this storm? Disintegrate into smithereens and wipe everything clean that he is? 

“What was that for?” you ask, softly, your lips numb and aching for more of his tenderness, one that you would, in all honesty, die for. You trace the print of his own lips on yours, feel its heavy warmth, and you might as well be drunk just from that. 

You need a shot. And not just one. 

Yoongi bites his bottom lip. “You’re holding out so well. I thought you deserved it.” 

You roll your eyes back—not from raw annoyance, but from the pristine pleasure you receive from the dominant, fatherly energy of his words. Suddenly, you don’t know what to do with your hands, what to say, what to think. What you do know is that you surely will be crying into his pillow by the time this night is over and he’s fast asleep. 

But you can’t cry much. Can’t wake up with puffy eyes. Can’t reveal to him the gravity of your feelings. 

You don’t even remember the moment you realized you loved him. Think you loved him the first time you laid your eyes on him, but you buried it deeply in you—so deeply that you didn’t even recollect your feelings when Yoongi told you, straight away, that this was just a friends with benefits kind of arrangement. Truth be told, this business is the sole kind of relationship you can give him as you hate men. Always hated them. But you don’t hate him. 

He’s not them. He’s different. 

You may have wanted adrenaline and joy tonight, but as you dwell in this state of mind of yours, you slouch deeper into the leather and come to a heartbreaking understanding that you’ll never be happy in this life. 

The night-clothed streets pass by you in soft shapes in colors, disappearing instantly out of your view. And the woodland, the trees and the swan, they disappear, too. Shrouded by the fog of your abysmal sadness. 

***

Yoongi took you to such a small hotel that its luxuriousness pierced your eyes with its glorious light. You thought you were dining and ending the night at his place, but once Yoongi ordered your favorite shots of sweet rum with cocktail cherries, you perceived you were staying here. Perceived he was unknowingly giving you the opportunity to drown your feelings in alcohol as well. 

You almost didn’t wait for him to take his own shot before you downed yours, but hearing the click of his tongue, you stopped midway. And to make sure you did wait, he placed his palm upon your wrist, bringing your arm down onto the table as he ordered your dessert. 

Chocolate ice cream, just for her. Thank you. 

He made everything worse. 

You weren’t sure why you wanted to be so good for him, listening to every order of his that came to his mind. Why you wanted that validation, that praise. You could just do whatever you desired—it wouldn’t scratch your relationship with him. You could be bad and he wouldn’t mind. Hell, you think he would even enjoy it. But why is it your inert yearning to please him so much? It’s devastating—and it’s your personal ruination. Because the more you do things that caress his ego, the deeper the abyss of your feelings for him goes. 

You shouldn’t. Not in the construct of your friendly relations. For the sake of your well-being.

You pry his fingers away and take that shot, watching his eyes grow large in their surprise. You never slide the cherry along with the liquor into your mouth, so once you swallow it, you open it wider and begin to chew it. His brows twitch, his own mouth parting at the sight and he leans back into his chair, completely submitted and enthralled by your act of defiance. 

And it feels good, going against him like that. Living your life by your own decided rules, and not his. 

You don’t hesitate to gulp down the other shot, but it’s not the slight burning of the liquid that gives you the buzz. It’s the way he seems to be completely pleased by your self-will, smiling lazily at you with his head tilted to the side. It propels you to steal his shot, too, and the brief facade of his pleasure collapses. A dark tendril of concern lines his eyes and those brows that twitched furrow, casting a dusky shadow over those slits. 

Now he’s aware of it, the tornado that spins within you. But he doesn’t know the cause of it, the decadent poetry verses that cover it. 

And he’ll never know—he’ll never read them. Because you’d much rather keep it in secrecy than risk losing him for all eternity. Feelings can be hidden, feelings can wander off, lose their bearings until they no longer remember that your body used to be their home. But Yoongi… he’s a person that you meet once in a lifetime. And losing him would mean that you lost not just your life, but the blood pumping in your veins as well.

It’s wrong, being attached like that to someone, regard him this way. And you’re cognizant of the fact it’s temporary—and for that sole reason, you bask in it. Because your life would be prosaic, and not poetic, if you didn’t. 

That is the motto you carry in your pathetic, but strong heart. 

And the darkness of his concern, it intoxicates you more than the last shot you take. 

The backdrop of dining and chattering people sway, just like your past trees, behind him. Manifestations of foreign lives you’ll never witness twice in your life, that are a part of you today and will part from you tomorrow. Yoongi, in the middle, remains stable. A beacon of light, unmoving, a great pillar of fixedness and steadiness. He peers at you through the thickness of his eyelashes, his aura solemn, no longer playful. Your sighs emit out of you in a constant stream while your eyes roam at everything in motion but him and he seems to strongly, strongly dislike that. 

“What’s up with you?” he asks for the second time around this evening, but the question has a loftier ring of seriousness to it. It passes through you, puncturing you until it pokes out of your back and transforms into a pair of monumental wings. Ones, upon which your feelings are mockingly hung, for his eyes to see, but not to recognize.

And the swaying of your body brings forth wetness to your eyes, for it is an anamnesis of the inner world you lost due to the comprehension of your feelings. 

“Nothing,” you say for the second time around, too. A hefty blanket of silence is thrown across the table, scattered with empty shot glasses that were meant to be shared between the pair of you. Unable to look at him, your eyes drop to them, count them—one, two, three, four—and then your irises wind up at his clenched fist. At the white valleys of his knuckles that are composed only when his fingers are wrapped around a microphone. And the blanket of the silence is warmer than the warmth he has given you—a sweltering layer of heartsickness that you can’t bear. With your drunk brain, you think you should pierce it, as if with a needle, with a response to a question he didn’t ask you. “I haven’t eaten much today, that’s why I’ve gotten drunk so quickly.” 

Yoongi runs a tongue down the inner flesh of his cheek. Ponders the information you have given him before he scolds you. “You didn’t eat and you drank four shots in a row. You won’t tell me what it is, fair enough, but I know you’re hiding it behind the pretense of you being horny.” 

His head swivels to the side, sensing a presence. And he watches as the waitress puts down an ornamental plate of two scoops of chocolate ice cream in front of you. You don’t pay her a second of your time. You set your eyes on Yoongi, on the darkness of his energy that you are ever so slowly and magnetically pulled to. 

Yes, he sees the problem, but doesn’t recognize it. He sees the shape of your wings, but he can’t recognize their color. 

The solidness of his call-out quivers. You’re not sure if you’re hiding it; you’re no longer sure about anything at this moment, but you don’t care. You have to stick to your secrecy, you have to keep your feelings safe and tucked away, no matter how far on the edge of the cliff they are. 

“I’m not hiding anything. I was horny,” you retort, not caring that the waitress is still present, picking up your shot glasses. Yoongi gives you a look while you tip your chin down and gaze at him through your long lashes—just like he did. A taste of his own sweet poison. And then you lift your foot and rest it between his outstretched legs, the sole of your stilettos pressing lightly against his soft groin. 

This is fun. This is the adrenaline you were seeking. Who would’ve thought you would be your own provider of that. 

Surprised by the abruptness of your act, he doesn’t let it show on his face, but his hands drift upwards from his thighs before he settles them around the bridge of your foot. He waits for the waitress to finish her job and, sensing the pressure, she scurries away without asking if you wanted to order another round. 

And in her absence, Yoongi begins to touch you. 

He sails his fingernails from your toes up to the thin strap of your shoe, wrapping them around your ankle. He squeezes your limb once, warning you about something you don’t know, his eyes tiny, tiny slits. Perhaps if you keep up with this, the night won’t end so prettily like it normally does. 

But you don’t believe it. You refuse to. And to be frank, you can’t. 

You shall have your fun. 

“Eat your ice cream before it melts,” he orders like the father he is, pointing at the dessert with his irises. 

You look at it, at the bits of the chocolate bars jutting out of it, then back up at him. “Feed it to me.” 

The slits break, his eyes enlarging. His reaction spreads all across his face—brows curling upwards, mouth parting, his thumb absentmindedly swiping across the skin of your shin, exposing how much he liked your request. Such an intimate place for that to happen. 

Then, he examines his surroundings. Then, he gets up from his chair and sits next to you on the booth, taking a hold of the spoon and your leg simultaneously, hooking it over his thigh. Scoops the ice cream and turns to you, his arm suspended in the air. 

“Open,” he rasps, and your eyes wet first before your mouth complies, opening wide for him. Yoongi slides the spoon into your mouth with expert gentleness, careful not to hurt you, and your first tear of the night cascades down your cheek when your mouth closes around the silver, your tastebuds cheering due to the chocolate flavor that overwhelms them. 

Yoongi, the man that could never disappoint you. Yoongi, the man who has given you more fatherly love than your own father ever did. 

How could you not love him? How could you not want more from the casualness of your relationship with him when he treats you like this? When he prepares a warm faith in men within your chest, a wet soil—out of which the tenderest sprout of joy shall grow? 

The second tear cascades down. The ice cream melts on your tongue. You swallow. 

Yoongi sighs, dropping his hands, the corners of his eyes rounding in an emotion you’ve never seen upon him. “You have to tell me what’s going on.” 

Your wings, swan-like, flutter behind you, ruffling the hair on the crown on his head. “The ice cream tastes good.” 

You brush away your tears, lamenting your foolish mistake, and fold your hands on your lap. Give him a teary smile that you can’t hide and open your mouth for him again. Yoongi doesn’t say anything as he continues to feed you and frown at you, not until another waitress comes and asks if you wish to order another round. His anger is evident in his voice as he turns her down, stating you won’t be drinking any more than you have. 

And again, he makes everything worse when he wipes your mouth clean after you finish the dessert. Pats your head to reward you. 

You hold your tears, watch him pay for you, give him your hand when he leads you towards the elevator up to the room where you’ll be staying tonight. 

Him, completely sober; you, drunk out of your mind. 

He doesn’t let go of your hand, even as you and him stand side by side, the silence as thick as death. You can’t stand it, can’t do anything else but to break it all over again. Though this time, you don’t do it with words. 

You do it with your actions. 

Stumbling on your feet like a freshly-born fawn, it’s only then that Yoongi looks at you. Holds you steady as you move in front of him to face him. He doesn’t swim along the current of all these brown shades of the elevator, but you can see a deep emotion waving through his ice-cold eyes that heat up, melt and droop when you envelop your arms around his neck and press your face against the side plane of his, kissing him there a hundred, a thousand times. You sink your fingers into the hair at the nape, tracing circles along his scalp and Yoongi shudders, breathes evenly against you, and it reminds you of the wind that swept past your woodland—the one that made your trees sway. 

All of that is gone because of your mistake. 

And something tells you that nothing will ever be the same. That something groundbreaking awaits you once these elevator doors open. 

And they open too quickly. 

Breaks your wordless actions that speak your gratitude for his fatherly behavior by gathering you into his arms, carrying you out of the elevator. Doesn’t let your aching feet touch the ground until the snugness of the tiny room welcomes you in. A queen-sized bed, a mirror across the wall that faces it, a round table by the balcony. It would be stifling if you were here alone, but Yoongi, somehow with his domineering energy, enlarges the room—makes it his. 

He empties out his pockets. Phone, wallet, keys. A white lighter and a pack of cigarettes. His jacket follows next, hooking it around one of the chairs, and once he notices your wavering feet, he sits down at the edge of the bed and sheds your trench coat, throwing it over his own jacket. Bends at the waist and takes off your heels, one by one. Only then, when you’re comfortable, does he set you down in the center of his lap. And you realize that the mirror is right in front of you. 

You watch him through it. Watch his face nuzzling into the crook of your neck; watch your own form disappear into the buffiness of his body as his hands begin to roam. His watch glints in the dim light of the room and his own being coalesces, becomes one with the murkiness. 

You want to do that, too. Forget who you are. Forget what you’re feeling. 

Tears prick at your waterline and you let out a pained sigh. Another foolish mistake of the night, one you’re about to pay for. 

“Talk to me,” he begs, a wisp of a tiny whiny weaving into his voice inconspicuously, but you catch it—and it vibrates through you, weakening you. It makes it so much harder for you, his unyielding need to know what’s troubling you, but how can you tell him? How can you risk never seeing him again? 

You remain silent, painfully so. 

Yoongi lifts his head from your neck and stares you dead in the eye through the mirror, chilling you down to the bone. 

“You truly think I’m just a guy you fuck?” he spits, his anger on full, unabashed blast that you should’ve seen coming with your restrained behavior, but it’s better to take his anger than to take his absence—and you shall devour that emotion of his. His question causes a hiccup to ensue in your chest, the secrecy of your feelings leaning over the edge of the cliff. Dangerously, dangerously close. “That you can’t confide in me? You think I’m just gonna fuck you and pretend I didn’t see you cry?” Your eyes dart away, a heavy load of agony settling over your heart, but Yoongi prevents you from looking away. Makes you look at him by grabbing your chin and keeping your head still, facing the mirror. “Is that what you want? You want me to be this kind of asshole?” 

You bite your lip, not knowing what to say, not knowing who you want him to be, not wanting to be in this situation at all. But Yoongi can’t stand your silence. Can’t stand the privacy of your trouble, as if he inertly knows that it has something to do with him. 

He softens his touch, but he doesn’t do the same with his voice. 

“Answer me.” 

You cry out in unnamed desperation, which propels Yoongi to lift your head up to him, so you can look at him—so you can see how much this matters to him. The emotion in his eyes vivaciously thumps, urging you to speak to him. He holds you to him like this, gripping your cheeks with the littlest amount of pressure, sucking in small breaths and you can’t. You’re going to explode if he keeps at it, and you’re going to die.

“Yoongi,” you whisper, tiny cries emitting out of your throat, and it’s almost a cry for help. You bunch up his T-shirt in your trembling fist, seizing the solidness of him like your fear seizes you, and you don’t know whether to run or stay put on his lap like this. You’re appalled about where this is going and you’re certain that the same dead end is impatiently seeking you—

Yoongi shushes you. Averts his hand and caresses your hair down. Kisses your forehead, where he lingers a few long seconds that subdue the expression of your storm. Waits until your breathing evens out, so he can unravel the words swelling in him. 

“Even if you asked me, I couldn’t be this kind of asshole to you,” he reveals against that plane of your face, punctuating his sentence by pressing his nose against yours. And you can’t believe his actions, you can’t believe the kind of affection he’s bathing you in; it lessens your fear, slashing it apart until there’s nothing left of it. “Something is hurting your heart and that bothers me. And what pisses me off most of all is that you think I can’t help you.” 

You sniffle and slide your hand upwards to his neck. Try to memorize every inch of this paintwork that your life is graced with as tomorrow won’t have the same paints, the same brushstrokes—

“I’m not gonna fuck you. If you want to be touched, I’ll touch you, but don’t think for a second you’re coming tonight, not if you won’t talk to me,” he murmurs and you gasp, lowly, your wings slumping limply.

The promise of him fucking you was your only salvation for tonight. You gaze up at him with wide eyes, your mouth falling agape, unbelief clutching you at the intensity of his stubbornness. 

And you want to know the meaning behind it. 

“Why?” 

He scoffs, kissing your cheek as if you were a baby he’s cradling, and you can’t take it anymore. You untangle yourself from his grasp and stand up to your feet, your back against the mirror. Yoongi peers at you disapprovingly and then he shakes his index finger at you. Your legs mimic the same movement, trembling, weakening at that. 

“You need to be taught a lesson,” he says and flattens his lips, pauses before he opens his mouth again, but you stop him, despite how much you like it. 

“No, Yoongi. Why are you treating me like this?” 

He props his knuckles against his thighs. A powerful, powerful stance. Curls his lips around his teeth. “Like what?” 

You reflect him. “Like I’m something more.” 

Yoongi chuckles, humorlessly, at that. You spewed it out so rapidly that you don’t realize what you said until he lets out that noise that returns the drum to your sensitive parts. And briefly, as if you uttered something stupid, you grow smaller and smaller—until his following words change your life once and for all. 

“Because you are and because you always have been,” he rasps, the corners of his mouth downturning for a split second, exposing his own secrecy that brings you to your knees. They scruff against the white carpet, stained by time, and Yoongi’s eyes flash with light to see you in this position. 

Your heart hammers with more life than it ever had, with a kind of adrenaline it never felt before, and wetness clouds your vision, misting this situation in a cloud of disbelief. Your lungs fail you, shuddering underneath his hard gaze, and they swell greatly when Yoongi clasps your face in his hand, the one that pointed at you so fatherly, so devastatingly. 

“You’re not just a girl I fuck and I know I’m not a guy you fuck. What we have is irreplaceable, what we do has always been something more, beyond the label we gave it and I regret it,” he lets out, a pained sigh—just like yours—wafting over your features, and Yoongi leans over, propping his elbows on his knees, his other hand joining your face, fingers gripping your hair on each side. “I should’ve treated you more properly, with respect. Take you out on dates. Get to know you. Wait before you let me touch you… because that is what you deserve. You’re not a girl to mess around with. You have a dignity that needs to be taken seriously, that needs to be respected and I wish I had done that. I wish…” he trails off, clicking his tongue in ultimate regret, and you break. You break, break, break. Sob in his hands that hold you so steadily, that give you life, adrenaline and a new meaning to your whole being. Suffocate under his watch, the earth-shattering notion that this has changed the course of your trajectory of your relationship with him forever constricting your throat. “I wish I had allowed myself to court you like you deserve. I wish I had been better mentally, but I’ll make everything right if you want me to. If you want me as much as I want you, I’ll make it right. I’ll try my hardest.”

Your own words, your heartstrings tangle up in a complex manner. Your tongue twists, your speech held back, and you have no control over what comes out of your throat. You’re crawling through a limbo that has no end and each movement you make, the way back gets erased. You need to keep going before it swallows you, but you need him to lead you. You need him inside your skin, inside your heat, inside your mouth. You need to be connected to him in a way you’ve never been connected to him before. You need his breath in your lungs—and your attachment to him bursts in flames. 

Sated, elated, magnificent. 

“Fuck me and make me yours, Yoongi.” 

He sucks in a breath as if he didn’t expect you to accept his favor. The light in his eyes soaks his irises in wetness and his mouth trembles in a tender emotion before he smashes it against yours. And within that lip lock, the swan in you is reborn. 

A baby swan, learning how to sail upon this new, new river—needing her father more than ever before. 

The kiss is hard and the kiss is catastrophic. Yoongi moves his mouth against yours, sucking every bit of your old life out of you to fill you up with newness. Lifts you up and sits you back on his lap. But the kiss is too brief and you soon perceive that his anger hasn’t been shunned out. 

Wet and blue flames lick over his black pools. 

“Not until you tell me what’s bothering you. What I said still applies.” 

The zipper slides down, the straps follow suit—and your silk is ripped away from your body that Yoongi turns over and moves to his preferable position, cradling you sideways like a child. And there—as he gives you a once over, studying the red lace of your lingerie, the swell of your breasts, the little valley of fat upon your tummy, the ruination of your panties and the stickiness of your thighs—there you realize that he’s as punishing you as much as he manipulating you into telling him. 

And it’s as arousing as it is bad. 

His free hand begins to roam while the other one holds you close, wrapped around your back, preventing you from running away. It ghosts over your breasts, causing your spine to arch into his palm and his throat to emit a delicious groan that drenches your panties. His fiery hand ventures down, his tongue gracing you with little praises of how beautiful you are, and when he reaches the V-line of your private parts, he discovers how much his deep voice and his touches affect you. 

He lifts his fingers and catches them glistening in the orange light. And this time, he doesn’t plunge them into his mouth. No, he sinks them inside your own. You swirl your tongue around them, coaxing that throaty noise of his that makes your hips buck up. Your tangy sweetness stupefies you and your so-loved woodland is remolded by that intimate act. By your connected gaze that could start a foreign war and bring the world down. 

“Suck on them,” he orders, and you comply. Hollow out your cheeks, make sucking noises as you find everything you ever searched for in his eyes. Stability, warmth, a father. Switch, cutely, between sucking them and dancing your tongue around them. His index and pinky fit just right between the elongated clefts of your cheeks and he coos, grows hard underneath you, kisses the tip of your nose, onto which he whispers: “Such a good little girl.” 

You moan and he reacts so trenchantly fast, withdrawing his fingers and using them to slide your panties to the side, placing them on your clit and not moving. 

“So swollen,” he comments, kissing you for a beat of time without closing his eyes, without missing this moment. “I like it when you’re like this. Swollen, dripping and so horny for me. Like I’ve never taken care of you before.” He glides his fingers down, past your lips to your hole before going back up, rooting on your throbbing clit before starting over. He etches desperation into your veins, stirs your butterflies to madness, and you breathe heavily. “No one will ever see you like this. No one, you hear me?” 

Your nod is automatic, thoughtless, and he’s pleased to the core. Enough that he begins to massage circles on your clit, your wings fluttering, no longer limp, but full of zest. And he can sense it—and it touches him so much that he deepens the pressure while the circles remain agonizingly slow. Your body writhes. Yoongi smirks down at you, grins fully when you clutch the nape of his neck and make little noises into his T-shirt. And just as soon your vision begins to blur and you reach the cusp of your orgasm, he stops.

“What’s hurting you?” 

He reciprocates your feelings, so you have no reason not to tell him. It’s more of a problem with your speech. You’re so fucked out that you can’t speak. 

Yoongi waits for a few seconds before he spanks your pussy. Maneuvers you so you can look at yourself in the mirror, your back against his chest, and he collects your arousal while he pins back your thigh, drifting all four of his fingers along your femininity, stimulating you and punishing you at the same time. Then, he lets you see your slick trickling out of his digits. 

“Look how wet you are, don’t you want to come?”

He’s a dark figure behind you while you are a small creature, spread wide, drooling, dressed in a sinful shade of red that doesn’t indicate her purity, whose smeared red mouth leaks loud, whiny whimpers when he sticks one of those fingers inside your heat, adding another one right away once you accommodate around him. He fucks you with a force that reverberates throughout your whole body and his name that pours out of your mouth like a prayer is a cry for help all over again. He pumps his fingers and pulls away, edging you in such a sinister way that drives out your tears. 

He worsens your condition—like he invariably does. But the rapidness of his pace, it unlocks your mouth, it untwists your tongue, and you begin to babble. 

Incoherent words, nonsense noises; sounds that blossom in volume when he withdraws ultimately, pushes the lace of your bra away from your breasts and kneads them with wet fingers. 

And you erupt, at last, when he flicks your nipples. You flood his pants-clothed thighs and knees, your slick streaming all the way to the carpet. And the river continues on with his words.

“I know you want this cock. I know you want it deep in you. But you’re not getting it if you don’t tell me right now what it is you’re using me to forget about,” he whispers into your ear, tweaking your nubs, his hands descending down your body and pinching your clit. You cry out, the aftershocks of pleasure dizzying you, his manipulation technique in full effect, and you’ll give it to him. Because of his cock, because of his affection. “You have three seconds. One, two, three—”

“I love you,” you confess, screaming it out of your lungs, and his eyes enlarging and his mouth parting in shock is all you see before you’re thrown on the bed.

Before your panties are ripped in half and flung behind him. 

Before your pussy is eaten and fingered in a way that makes you come in four heartbeats. 

Yoongi’s skilled tongue flicks your clit, his fingers curl in that special spot that bespeckles your vision with the stars of the night sky beyond the hotel room window. And you don’t latch onto the fact you’ve drenched him with your juices until he straddles your thigh, arches over you and kisses you with love-drunkenness, his fingers sliding back inside. 

And he doesn’t start fucking you until he confesses something, too. 

“I love you, too.” 

His digits drill you, his eyes pierce your soul and your orgasms are countless like this, not bound to time, not bound to anything at all. You squirt on him, bathe him in the newness of your relationship, cleansing off the old. And then he’s inside of you, murmuring reassuring words against your mouth about how that shouldn’t be troubling your heart. And you cry, you sob, you scream, overtaken by it all, your mouth numb by his constant hard kisses and if you ever belonged to him in the past—you didn’t. Because at this moment, as he stuffs you full of his cum, you’re interwoven into his DNA for all eternity. 

One that he nurtures as he holds you in his arms and asks you about how long you’ve loved him. And he in return tells you that he loved you the moment you first had a taste of what he could give you—laughter, guidance, and orgasms. All from the first date. 

And when you kiss him for the last time before sleep steals you away, you know that you’ll never lack adrenaline in your life ever again. As long as you’re with him, you’ll be on the receiving end. And his unchanging promises will make you look forward to each day, your batteries charged and green—like your blooming woodland.

𓂃 ౨ৎ LOVE-KISSED BABIES: tkslovechild , @jjk7k , @parkinglot-nights , @bethvar , @Sexytholland , @yoongibaybee , @crystaleah ,@fennecnco, @lil-kpopstan , @euphoricmyth , @jungkoock , @cinmmongirl , @hoseokkie-caeks , @kam9404 , @fr0ggieth1nk .

© 2024 hoseoksluna, all rights reserved.

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[urmingirl]

SUGA x Valentino ♡ Marie Claire

[bangguks]

UGH! 😮‍💨

[evangelical04]

A Single Daffodil || 4

Summary: Getting arranged to be married to your long-time crush wasn't exactly the fairy tale romance you were hoping for. Nor is the dynamic of the marriage, with your husband treating you like you don't exist. But you're going to make this work, whether he cares about you or not. And he definitely doesn't...right?

Pairing: Min Yoongi x Reader

Rating: 18+ minors DNI

Word Count: 12.5K

Genre: angst, romance, unrequited love, smut, enemies to lovers, arranged marriage au, businessman yoongi

Warnings: parental trauma, sibling trauma, toxic parents, unrequited love, explicit language, alcohol usage, yoongi's kind of mean, future smut, body image issues

Author's Note: sorry this is being posted almost a month later! i was on a road trip with my friends but I wanted to get this out before my birthday (it's on the 17th eek!!) but I hope you guys like it! as usual, please tell me what you guys think! i'd love to hear your opinions <33 also I'm sorry if this chapter seems kinda boring, but the next one is gonna have some drama!! oooo

Taglist:

@yoongisducky @kam9404 @sumzysworld @tarahardcore @viankiss @babystarcandylovejk @ktownshizzle @futuristicenemychaos @igot7fairlyoddparents @baechugff @pb89nv @peachytokki @ratherbfangirling @themwordsblog @daisies-and-dandelionpuffs @kimmalik @honeyypages @captainchrisstan @khaimahfe @yoongibaybee @kooklovee @whoa-jo @familiarlikemymirror3 @blueberriesm @llallaaa @weareatthebadlands @purpleheartsandarock1 @lillmeowmeowsblog @this-most-assuredly-counts @kayleefriedchicken @ur-grandmum @praetae @sylviamuela

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Waking up in an unfamiliar room was jarring, initially. It took you a couple of rounds of rubbing your eyes to realize that you were no longer in your cozy two-bedroom apartment with soft lighting and warm-colored pillows. You awoke to harsh sunlight hitting your face, blank walls, and beige furniture. You leaned back against the light brown headboard of your bed and ran your hands through your messy tangles of hair, having forgone brushing it out the previous night. Glancing at your phone beside you, you noted the time being only a bit past nine.

You needed tea, warm tea. 

You shuffled out of bed, feeling the cold air nip at your bare legs, but you couldn’t find the motivation to change into warm clothing. You tied your hair into a messy ponytail, deciding to attend to it later, and exited your room, facing the cold and unfriendly hallway. There was a faint sound of quiet jazz from the kitchen, likely Mrs. Lim, and you descended the stairs. As you reached the bottom, you groaned internally, lamenting the fact that your favorite teas were still in your apartment. 

Rounding the corner into view of the kitchen had you stopping in your tracks. Yoongi was sat atop one of the counter stools, peacefully scrolling on his phone in the same clothes you’d seen him in last night during your discussion. The unexpected sight had you stumbling backwards, bumping into the large recliner that sat behind you. The sound alerted him to your presence, his eyes turning to find your form. 

“Um, hi,” you stuttered, “I didn’t expect to see you this morning.”

Yoongi hummed, eyes trailing up and down your figure, mouth upturned. You shifted your weight onto the other foot, feeling uncomfortable, before crossing your arms over your chest. You shouldn’t be this comfortable to walk around braless yet, you internally scolded. 

“Well, it is the weekend,” Yoongi mused, still not taking his eyes off your chilled form. You laughed awkwardly, nodding, “Yeah, I suppose it is, isn’t it? I’ll be right back, actually, I forgot my phone upstairs.”

You didn’t wait to see his response before turning around and rushing back up the stairs. Reaching your room and closing the door behind you, you breathed heavily. What was that? You buried your head in your hands, sliding down the door to sit with your knees pulled to your chest, you should’ve expected him in his own goddamn house. Your cheeks burned at the memory of his eyes tracing your silhouette. How embarrassing. You wallowed in your self-pity a bit longer before rising and entering your large closet. 

You picked out a simple cropped grey sweatshirt and black sweatpants, not finding a need to appear any more formal. You wanted to appear casual after the embarrassing display you started the morning off with. Plus, if Yoongi said this marriage meant nothing, you could walk around his house in loungewear. As long as your mother didn’t find out.

The thick cotton felt much more comfortable and warm, considering the slightly chilly air in the house. Yoongi must like it to be a bit colder, you thought absently. As you finished your morning routine, brushing your teeth and combing through your hair, making sure to pat on some moisturizer and acne treatment, your thoughts wandered back to seeing Yoongi earlier.

The way he had been looking at you was strange, much like Hoseok had mentioned. You weren’t dense, you knew the intention hidden behind a gaze like that, you’d been on the giving and receiving end before. What had you so puzzled was why Yoongi would be looking at you like that. Wasn’t he the one to draw such a clear line between you two? 

Aside from the reason as to why he would be tracing the edges of your curves with his eyes was the effect that it had on you. Frustratingly, Yoongi’s hungry gaze sent warmth through your veins, and excitement pooled in your stomach. It was an embarrassing response, considering how he’d treated you before. At the same time, it felt expected. You had been pining after this man for so long and now he was showing the slightest bit of reciprocation, albeit, with more physical intentions than you. It only felt natural that it would leave you giddy with warm cheeks. It made you happy to think that Yoongi could be seeing you in a similar light.

Your dizzy smile faded as you looked in the mirror at your flushed face. What were you doing? The last eight months had been spent trying to drill into yourself that Yoongi would never like you that way because you couldn’t afford to get your hopes up. Why were you entertaining the idea again after one sultry stare? You felt pathetic, you had folded so easily as you always did when it came to him. 

Smacking your cheeks a couple of times, you readied yourself to head back downstairs. He was just a man, no matter how attractive. Descending the stairs once more, you noticed Yoongi had moved to the couch, leaning back with his coffee on the table next to him, scrolling away on his phone. He hadn’t noticed your reentrance just yet and you awkwardly hovered by the edge of the couch, trying to get his attention. 

Awkwardly clearing your throat did the trick and his gaze turned toward you, an eyebrow raised at your changed appearance. 

“Do you, um, do you have any tea,” you mumbled out, avoiding his intense stare. You heard him hum, likely considering his kitchen inventory, before answering, “Sorry, no, just coffee. Would you like me to order some? There’s also coffee and juice if you want that instead.”

You quickly shook your head at his offer of ordering tea, “That’s fine, I’ll just have some warm water, thanks,” and quickly made your way into the kitchen, reaching the fridge. The metal box was massive, towering over you and quite wide, with a sleek, silver finish. There were no magnets or pictures adorning the exterior, though. Pulling it open, your eyes raked over the full contents, spotting a pitcher of what seemed like orange juice, but no Britta Filter or something of the like. Glancing at the sink, you noticed a second spout seemingly for filtered water. Shrugging, you supposed that Yoongi would be able to afford that and not have to have a water filter jug. 

Next, you hunted for a kettle, which wasn’t too difficult to find, placed in a corner of the countertop. You took it out, setting it on the counter next to an outlet, but soon realized you had no idea where the cups were. The sheer amount of cupboards was overwhelming and you had no idea where to start looking, never mind the embarrassment of rifling through the kitchen in front of Yoongi. 

Opening up cabinets as quietly as possible was not the easiest task when you could so heavily feel Yoongi’s presence in the living room. The anxiety in your chest built as you couldn’t tell whether or not he was watching you struggle to find a single mug. Coming to another cabinet above you, you opened it, spotting a mug or two on the edge of the top shelf portion. Just your luck. You hadn’t spotted a step stool anywhere and you were far too embarrassed already to climb on top of the counter to reach it. Your arm stretched out as you stood on your toes, fingers grasping at the edge of the shelf before you felt warmth envelop your back.

Freezing in place, you quickly identified Yoongi behind you, evidently assisting you in reaching the mugs. He didn’t seem quite tall enough either, you deduced, because he lifted his heels slightly, pushing further into you. Your breath stuttered and you almost had to brace yourself against the counter, you hadn’t really been this close to him before. You could feel his warm breath against the top of your hair, making your nape break out into goosebumps. 

His fingers finally curled around the handle of the mug and he set his feet fully on the ground, but not moving away from you. You turned to face him, steadying your hands by grasping the edge of the countertop and lifted your head to look at him.

“Um, thank you,” you stuttered, unable to make full eye contact, instead opting for looking straight at his ear. He was too close and you couldn’t handle it. His other hand rested on the countertop, just beside yours, and his face was only inches away. How were you supposed to focus? Your gaze only lowered further, making your head turn slightly away. There was a second or two of just silence.

“No problem,” he responded bluntly, moving away and placing the mug down on the other counter that sat in the middle of the kitchen. You let out a heavy breath, finally being able to breathe something in other than Yoongi’s subtle cologne. Resisting the urge to question his sudden close proximity, you instead opted for, “Would you like some as well?

Yoongi only raised an eyebrow and gestured towards the living room where his coffee mug sat waiting. Your mouth clamped shut and you stuttered a nod, “Right, well I’ll just, um, finish doing this.”

God, could you be any more awkward?

Yoongi simply nodded and walked back to the living room, leaving you in the kitchen with warm cheeks and many regrets. You went through the motions of filling the kettle and starting it, waiting for it to boil before pouring it into the mug. The warm water was at least comforting in the chilly atmosphere, despite having no flavor. You stood in the kitchen, unsure of where you should go. Should you join Yoongi in the living room or go back to your room? Or should you stay in the kitchen? Nothing in your life had prepared you for the social expectations in a situation like this.

You decided on your room, not wanting to spend more time in Yoongi’s presence after the embarrassing display in the kitchen. As you made your way to the stairs, walking past Yoongi’s form on the couch, he called out to you.

“Y/N, can you sit for a moment?”

You turned towards him and nervously nodded, taking a seat on the same loveseat as the night prior. It was quite comfortable even though you had been the epitome of uncomfortable each time you’d sat in it so far. You looked up at Yoongi, silently gesturing for him to continue. 

“Some of my friends are coming over tonight, the same that made up my groomsmen. If you don’t mind, are you able to stay in your room?”

“Oh, sure,” you nodded, that was all? You were nervous for nothing. 

“Thanks,” Yoongi almost smiled at you, “They’ll be here around seven.”

“Sounds good,” you said while standing up, you couldn’t get out of there quickly enough. In your rush to get back to your room, you didn’t notice Yoongi’s gaze lingering on your retreating form.

Closing your bedroom door behind you, you breathed a sigh of relief. What a day, and it wasn’t even noon yet. Adjusting to life with Yoongi was definitely going to be a learning curve. 

Since you were off work for the next two weeks, you weren’t exactly sure what to do with your time. You couldn’t exactly relax in the living room and watch a movie, not with your husband occupying the couch. Things certainly felt stifled in Yoongi’s home. His presence was overwhelming and nerve-wracking, you couldn’t relax around him at all. The earlier interaction in the kitchen still weighed on your mind. 

Why did he get so close to you? Wasn’t he the one who proposed that the two of you stay as far apart as possible? Maybe he didn’t see his closeness to you as something that went against that principle. You sighed. It felt impossible to read him or know what he was thinking at all. His impassive expressions and ambivalent demeanor were starting to get to you. 

Even though you’d resolved to take on an emotionally removed approach like him, you still craved some sort of transparency in his confusing actions that stirred mixed emotions within you. Some of the things he was doing would point towards him harboring some sort of affection toward you but he had been so adamant in keeping your lives separated. What you needed was a clear message from him about how he felt and actions that aligned with that. 

Not that you thought that was going to happen. 

After setting your mug down on your bedside table, you collapsed onto the soft comforters of your bed. The ceiling above you was plain unlike the one in your apartment and you found yourself missing the nights of tracing along the popcorn pattern in your warm and comfy bed. Speaking of your apartment though, you thought, you should probably check in on how Hoseok’s doing. 

You patted your hand around for your phone, finding it beside you, and dialed Hoseok’s number, setting it to speaker and letting the phone sit beside your head. It only rang twice before he answered.

“Well, hello Mrs. Min,” came his teasing voice. 

You groaned, kicking your legs up in the air, “Shut up, don’t remind me.”

“Aren’t you living the dream, though? Married to your long-time crush?”

“Hardly,” you scoffed, recalling your husband’s cold and calculating exterior.

“Well, what’s up, how’s the first morning? Are you sore,” Hoseok questioned, you could hear him shuffling around, likely lying down on the bed himself. 

“I guess? My calves are kind of sore, those heels fucking hurt after the first hour,” you responded, massaging your aching feet. 

“No,” Hoseok laughed, “Are you sore from your consummation? Tell me how it was!”

“Gross,” you exclaimed, sitting up on the bed incredulously, “We did not have sex! I can barely look at him for fuck’s sake, how am I supposed to sleep with him?”

“That’s your fault for not taking advantage of the situation,” he hummed on the other end, “The opportunity was right there.”

“Dude, c’mon, he can barely stand me. We wouldn’t have been sleeping together even if I could look him in the eye.”

“You’ll get there,” Hoseok chimed optimistically, making you desperately want to change the subject.

“How’s your apartment hunting going,” you asked, grasping at any other topic you could.

“Smooth,” he laughed but acquiesced and answered your question, “Good, I think. I’ve got a couple of showings in a few days that seem promising. Rent here is way more expensive than Busan though.”

“Yeah,” you sighed, “Tell me about it. I don’t know how Yoongi affords this place.”

“He probably owns it.”

“Damn, you’re probably right. Should a peasant like me even be allowed in here,” you half-joked.

Hoseok only scoffed in response, “As if you’re not literally the daughter of chaebols.”

You hummed, nodding, “Touche.”

“Oh, I did talk to my old boss and he said there was an old student of his in Seoul who was also looking to open up a dance studio. Apparently, he’s just finishing up his MBA so I’m going to talk to him and see if he wants to become partners,” Hoseok excitedly detailed.

“That’s so cool! I’m sure he’ll say yes,” you responded happily. Hoseok deserved to succeed after how hard he’d worked and if this other guy knew anything, he’d say yes to Hoseok in a heartbeat. 

“How is everything else,” Hoseok asked, prompting you to sigh.

“It’s fine, I guess,” you said tiredly, wondering if you should divulge what had happened during the wedding and this morning.

“Tell me about it,” he said quietly, encouraging you.

“Alright,” you huffed, settling in for the long haul of recounting the previous day and the conversation when you’d gotten to Yoongi’s penthouse. You finished by detailing the events this morning and the fact that his friends were coming over later. 

Hoseok listened diligently, making sure to have the appropriate reactions at the right moments. When you finished retelling the events of that morning, Hoseok laughed, “How cliche. This really feels like your own movie romance.”

You shook your head, laughing along, “I guess it was pretty cliche. Everything feels so cliche with him, like the first time I’m falling in love as a teenager or something. It’s embarrassing.”

“It’s not embarrassing to like someone, Y/N,” Hoseok says, changing his tone to be a bit softer, “Having a crush isn’t all that immature, it’s the way you act on it that can be.”

“You’re surprisingly profound,” you joked, but you knew he had a point. You had been beating yourself up about feeling anything for Yoongi and feeling embarrassed whenever you became flustered. It felt childish and you hated feeling so vulnerable and disadvantaged. 

“Well, I have my moments,” Hoseok chuckled, “But seriously, don’t be so hard on yourself. Let yourself feel and then choose how to deal with it. If that means moving on, then do that, slowly. And it’s okay if it means keeping the feelings, as long as you're not hurting yourself or anyone else.”

“Thanks, Hobi,” you smiled, he really did have his moments. 

“Anytime, Y/N-ie,” Hoseok responded fondly, making you smile widen at the affectionate nickname.

“But I do have to go now. I’ve got some calls to make about my old apartment. They’re trying to keep my deposit,” he huffed.

“Yikes, good luck with that, let me know how it goes,” you give him a sweet goodbye before hanging up. The conversation with Hoseok had cleared your head some, leaving you wondering what your next move should be. You promptly decided on a nap. 

After a few hours, you awoke, stretching in your bed, feeling slightly groggy, but well rested. Your head felt clearer than ever and you actually felt ready to live in this penthouse.

Sitting up, you took a look around your room before sighing. The beiges and whites were really starting to get to you. You dragged yourself out of your bed and towards your bag from the previous night. After digging around for a moment, you triumphantly located your laptop and its charger, plugging it into the outlet near your desk. Booting up your laptop only took a few moments but you occupied yourself by making a mental list of the decorations you wanted to purchase or bring from your own apartment. After logging in, you dejectedly realized you weren’t connected to the wifi. 

You should’ve asked Mrs. Lim for the wifi password, you thought scornfully, why had you been so careless. Now you had to ask Yoongi. Your mission of avoiding him at all costs was going poorly.

Reaching for your phone, you opted instead to text him to minimize the interaction, feeling proud of your solution. 

You:

Hi Yoongi-ssi, would you mind giving me the wifi password, please?

You quickly set your phone face down on the desk, dreading the reply. What if he thought you were an idiot? What if he didn’t give it to you and you had to use a hotspot for the rest of your life and spend hundreds on your data charges?

Your spiraling thoughts were interrupted by your phone vibrating against the desk’s surface. 

Yoongi:

Sure. It’s worldwidehandsomesvacationhome. No capitals.

You let out a confused chuckle, what a weird name. You had a nagging feeling that Kim Seokjin had something to do with it. 

You: 

Thank you. Have fun with your friends.

You threw your phone against the desk and launched yourself into your bed. Was that too much? Oh god, what if you had royally messed up and crossed a boundary? You stayed in your bed for a few minutes before rising, noting that your phone hadn’t vibrated with a response. Hesitantly approaching your phone, you turned it over to see a blank screen with no notifications. You checked the message thread to see it the same as you left it except that you had been left on read. 

Well, I guess there’s nothing I can do about that.

You shrugged and retook your seat at your desk, entering the wifi password on your laptop and phone. Finding a successful connection, you spent the next few hours browsing through online stores for fun decorations and decals for your room and office in the penthouse. The search took your full attention and you bought multiple items, saving a few of the more expensive purchases for other credit cycles. At the end of it all, you’d bought multiple pillows, a throw blanket, some cute decoration trinkets off of Etsy, a couple of cute flower lamps, a comfy-looking lounge chair, and some lilac curtains. Decorating your room in some fun colors and trinkets would make it feel more like home, or at least, that’s what you hoped. 

Sitting on the desk next to your laptop was a small notebook that held a list of the items you planned to purchase, mainly a TV for your room so you could watch movies and use your console, a larger and cuter desk, and a comfier desk chair, as well as transferring a number of other items from your apartment like your plants, books, and other decorations. 

Coming out of your reverie, you noticed that the time had passed quickly, being a little after seven, and your stomach grumbled, reminding you of your forgetting to eat lunch. Cooking in the kitchen wasn’t an option, noting the laughter downstairs likely meaning that Yoongi’s friends had arrived already, and you didn’t know what ingredients were there anyway, or if you were allowed to use them. 

Sighing, you instead decided to order delivery. You browsed through the local restaurants before settling on a fried chicken restaurant that you frequented that had a location close to your apartment and another near Yoongi’s. Selecting your usual order, you almost checked out before realizing that you were about to order it to your apartment. Grinning, you imagined Hoseok opening your door to a crispy chicken delivery and having no second thoughts about eating your food. 

You couldn’t remember Yoongi’s address, so you resorted to looking at your maps app to figure it out, and your previous texts with Mrs. Lim for the internal building directions. A rush of content flowed through you as you placed the order, eagerly awaiting your hearty meal. 

To pass the time, you grabbed your Switch, loading in whatever game you had been playing previously, some indie puzzle game. You settled into the relaxing and cute gameplay and drowned out the noise of Yoongi’s friends further into the penthouse. 

After a while, your phone vibrated with the notification that the delivery was here, and you jumped up, eager to receive your food. Quickly opening your door, you entered the hallway to make your way to the stairs before hesitating. You could hear Kim Seokjin’s signature laugh in the living room. 

Oh, that’s right, Yoongi didn’t want you to come down.

You tittered around the banister, unsure of whether you should go down before you felt your phone buzz with the driver asking where you were. 

Ah, fuck it.

You quickly descended the stairs and tried to discreetly go through the back end of the living room to avoid Yoongi’s group drinking and playing some sort of game on the coffee table. Of course, you were unsuccessful, spotted by Seokjin immediately. 

“Yah, Seo Y/N,” he shouted, pointing at you, clearly quite drunk already.

You froze in place, turning toward him and sending him a shy wave.

“Why are you over there,” Seokjin slurred, “Come join us! You need to drink!”

You began shaking your head before you were interrupted. 

“Noona!”

Jeongguk’s bright voice and wide smile brought a smile to your own face, and you mouthed a small hello in his direction. 

“Come join us, noona, please,” Jeongguk pleaded, shooting lethal doe eyes in your direction. Your heart melted and you almost agreed, but you felt your phone buzz in your pocket again, making you restart your steps toward the door, “Sorry, Jeongguk-ah, I just came down to get my delivery.”

You ignored his and Seokjin’s protests to open the door and pay the driver, leaving an extra tip for the wait they endured, and taking the food. 

“Woah, is that fried chicken,” you heard from over your shoulder, turning to see Jeongguk suddenly there, eyeing your takeout bag. You chuckled, nodding, before beginning your trek back to the stairs. 

“C’mon Y/N-ah, join us, Yoongi doesn’t mind,” Seokjin attempted once more and you took the moment to search out his face. Yoongi was sitting in the loveseat you had earlier, eyes resting on you in an unreadable expression. Taehyung was on the floor where Jeongguk was previously and Namjoon was on the couch with Seokjin. Yoongi’s stern expression seemed out of place among the group of happy and buzzed faces and it only made you feel worse. 

“Sorry, oppa, I think I’m just gonna head up. I’m kind of tired,” you responded, shying away from Jeongguk’s insistent touch and multiple attempts to snag a piece of chicken. 

“You’re so boring, Y/N, you’ll need to join us soon enough, so why not now,” Seokjin slurred, body swinging to lean on the other end of the couch. Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed Yoongi open his mouth to say something but was beaten by Namjoon. 

“Let her be, hyung, you can’t force her,” Namjoon smacked Seokjin’s shoulder before sending you a kind smile and gesturing towards the stairs. 

You shot him a grateful smile before ascending, deliberately avoiding Yoongi’s icy stare. Seokjin’s cries faded into the background as you quickly climbed the stairs and reached your room. 

Closing the door behind you, a sigh escaped your mouth. How stressful. You hoped that Yoongi wasn’t upset with you for interrupting, you were just quite hungry. You set the bag down on your desk, mouth salivating at the pleasant aroma. You could almost say the intense encounter was worth the heavenly bite of fried chicken you took. 

The next week went by rather smoothly, mainly because you had barely seen Yoongi at all. He hadn’t come out of his room much the following day after his friends had come and then resumed work afterward with the week starting up once more. You relished the opportunity to set up your room and office in a style more akin to yours and filled the rooms with plants and flowers you adored. 

Mrs. Lim had been happy to help you set up your rooms, citing boredom from the countless greys and blacks that Yoongi’s decor tended to lean towards. You had developed a close bond with her in the week since your arrival in the penthouse and she was a comforting presence in the face of Yoongi’s frosty exterior. 

“Ms. Seo, I think your TV is here!”

You sat up from the intense building of your desk, wiping a line of sweat from your forehead. All of the moving around and lifting had you quite warm and you had changed into a loose crop top and shorts. While the work wasn’t necessarily difficult, it was tedious to do alone but you didn’t have much of a choice. You couldn’t ask Mrs. Lim with her bad back to crouch and bend to help you put it together, Joohee was going out to a work dinner with her colleagues, and Hoseok was off to another apartment showing. Unfortunately, you couldn’t figure out anyone else you could call on a Friday evening to help. 

“Coming,” you shouted down to Mrs. Lim and rose to your feet, having to lean slightly against the wall. You took a glance at the TV stand you had already snagged second-hand from Joohee after she had decided to mount hers and confirmed it was in the spot you wanted. Heading down the stairs to the living room, you noted Mrs. Lim’s conflicted stance, hands on her hips. 

“What’s wrong,” you questioned, rounding the corner of the couch to see the large box the TV had arrived in. The box was quite large and seemed to be rather heavy, which would make it extremely difficult to carry up the stairs by yourself. Immediately, you knew this was going to be an issue because you couldn’t ask Mrs. Lim for help. You’d managed thus far, with your desk arriving in multiple boxes that were more lightweight, your chair being fairly easy to drag up the stairs, and Joohee helping with the TV stand. Crossing your arms, you studied the box before wrapping your hands underneath to test the weight. 

It lifted slightly, but you soon had to release it, the edge slipping from your fingers. There was no way you’d be able to get this up on your own. 

“Don’t try it by yourself, dear,” Mrs. Lim soothed, “You’ll hurt your back and end up just like me.”

You chuckled, brushing the hair out of your face once again, “Yeah, at least one of us needs to be able to reach the bottom shelf in the kitchen.”

Mrs. Lim playfully smacked your shoulder, “What happened to respecting your elders? You’re quite warm though, would you like some cold water?”

You nodded appreciatively, “Yes, please. Thank you!”

Mrs. Lim waved you off as she walked into the kitchen. Turning towards the box, you huffed, staring it down. What should you do?

Suddenly, you heard the door unlock and it popped open, hitting the box in the process, stopping it from opening fully. 

“Mrs. Lim,” came Yoongi’s voice, “Is there something in the doorway?”

“Oh, my bad,” you exclaimed, quickly bending to push the box out of the way. After you’d pushed it aside, you stood to greet Yoongi. 

He was running a hand through his hair, staring at the box before his eyes trailed to you and up your legs to your face. You felt your cheeks heat before sending him a small bow and nod. 

“What’s all this,” he questioned.

“I’m just getting some stuff for my room, sorry for all the trouble,” you wrung your hands together nervously.

Yoongi shook his head and opened his mouth, only to be interrupted by Mrs. Lim arriving with your water,  “Oh, Mr. Min, you’re home!” Handing you the glass, she continued, “Ms. Seo was just trying to figure out how to bring this box up to her room. It’s much too big for just her to handle and I can’t help because of my back. So unfortunate, isn’t it?”

You cringed internally, taking a sip of water to give yourself something to do. Yoongi only nodded, looking at you once more before moving out of the doorway. He started towards the stairs, leaving you breathing out in relief and gulping down more water. 

Just as he began climbing the steps to his room, he turned and faced your form, “Give me a couple minutes to change and I can help you bring that to your room.”

You almost choked on your water as you stumbled through a nod, surprised at Yoongi’s offer to help. He didn’t spare you another glance as he retreated to his room and you were left standing cluelessly as Mrs. Lim sent you a sly smile. 

“Well, I’ll just leave you to it. Your dinner is already prepped, there’s japchae and banchan to cool you down. It’s just about time for me to head home anyway,” Mrs. Lim said, clapping her hands together and starting to untie her apron. 

You pounced, stopping her hands from undoing the knot, “Mrs. Lim, maybe you can join us for dinner?” You were desperate in your attempt to not be left alone with Yoongi, looking up at Mrs. Lim with pleading eyes. 

She only chuckled, gently removing your hands and finishing releasing the knot, her apron falling loose around her front, “Use this as an opportunity to get to know him better. I promise Mr. Min is a nice, young man.”

You almost scoffed, everyone seemed to be trying to convince you of that except for Yoongi himself. 

Mrs. Lim put her apron away and gave your cheek a gentle pinch before opening the door, “Besides, I have a dinner date with Mr. Lim. Good luck!” She closed the door behind her and you were left wondering how to navigate the upcoming interaction. Yoongi didn’t give you much time to prepare, appearing at the top of the stairs only seconds after Mrs. Lim’s exit. He was now dressed in a casual grey t-shirt and black sweats, posing a stunning contrast to his earlier neat and tailored suit. 

“Where did Mrs. Lim go,” he asked, starting his descent to the living room. 

“Um, she left to go home. She said there was dinner already prepped and she had to have dinner with her husband,” you answered awkwardly, avoiding his intense gaze. 

Yoongi simply nodded, “That’s fine. Shall we get started, then?”

You nodded, rushing to one end of the box as Yoongi took his place at the other. 

“I’ll walk backward, so just let me know when I’ve gotten to the stairs,” he said, making you nod in response, finding it difficult to speak. You both lifted, the box becoming much easier to carry with two pairs of hands. 

You kept your gaze firmly trained on the view behind Yoongi, refusing to make eye contact. You were nervous it’d make your grip slip. Warning Yoongi when you had reached the stairs, the rest of the trip had been fairly easy, quietly giving him directions to your room. Thankfully, your door was open and the two of you entered, setting the box down and breathing slightly heavily. 

You looked up to express your gratitude to Yoongi but found him looking around your room instead. You supposed it would be his first time in here since you’d arrived. It had changed quite drastically since you had moved in, sporting much more color and silly accessories. Your bed now had a lilac comforter and a white throw blanket, along with multiple cute, fuzzy throw pillows in fun shapes like clouds or mushrooms. The lounge chair had been set up in the corner with a few other pillows and Pokemon plushes you already had. The lilac curtains you ordered had already been set up, currently open to let some light into the room. A few of your favorite tote bags sat hanging on a hook you’d stuck on by the entrance and there were small crocheted and artsy trinkets plastered or hung around the room. Taking a look around it now, for the first time, your aesthetic felt silly and childish in comparison to Yoongi’s sleek, grown-up look. 

“Um,” you started, wanting to take Yoongi’s gaze off of your colorful and immature decorations, “Thank you for, ah, helping out.” 

Yoongi’s head turned toward you, finding your worried face, biting your lip.

“No problem,” he responded, “I like your room.”

You looked up at him questioningly, not expecting such a response. You had assumed he would think of it as childish and express his distaste, or just ignore it altogether. 

“It’s cute.”

You felt your lips part in surprise at his seemingly earnest reaction to your newly decorated room. It made you feel a bit guilty for assuming he wouldn’t like it before. Furthermore, describing it as ‘cute’ seemed so unlike him. You weren’t sure how to respond. Smiling awkwardly, you nodded, “Thanks, I’m glad you like it.”

You’re glad he likes it? What kind of response is that? You groaned internally, now it seemed like you were pining for his validation. Why couldn’t the ground just swallow you whole?

Yoongi hummed in response before dusting off his hands on his sweats, “Would you like to have dinner then?”

You looked at him in slight shock. The two of you hadn’t had a meal together since you’d moved in, yet here he was offering as if it was a normal occurrence for you. 

“Unless you’re eating later,” Yoongi’s eyebrow raised at your delayed response. 

Quickly, you shook your head, “No, no. I’d love to have dinner now.”

Way to sound over-eager.

The both of you made your way downstairs, unpacking the meal that Mrs. Lim had prepared for you. The cold noodles felt soothing to your overheating body and Mrs. Lim’s kimchi was the perfect balance of fresh and sour. She had even made cucumber kimchi, one of your favorites as she’d learned in the past week, which you happily devoured. While the food was delicious, the atmosphere surrounding the dinner table was awkward. The meal was largely silent, save for the sounds of eating and happy tummies. Distantly, you wondered which of the two of you was going to be the one to break the silence. Surprisingly, it turned out to be Yoongi. 

“Were you told about the gala tomorrow evening?”

You nodded, your mother had called you a few days ago to notify you of it. That hadn’t been a fun phone call. She’d made sure to tell you exactly what she expected you to wear and how to act around Yoongi during the gala. You were just relieved that it started at eight, there was an art gallery that you had been wanting to check out that opened at three. 

“We’ll go together, we’ll leave at 7:45, does that sound good,” Yoongi asked, glancing at his phone between bites of japchae. You only nodded, trying to map out your schedule for the next day so that you could go to the art gallery and still have enough time to get ready. 

“Alright then, that’s settled,” Yoongi stated, taking his last bites of food. 

“Oh, wait,” you interjected, remembering your conversation with your mother, “Do you have a dark blue tie?”

Yoongi’s eyebrow raised, “Yes, I believe so. Why?”

Your cheeks heated, “My mother wanted your tie to match my dress. Sorry.” It was quite embarrassing and your mother had not listened to reason. Apparently, she wanted to solidify the image of you two as a couple at this gala, despite the fact that the only people who matched dresses and ties were high school kids going to dances. 

Yoongi nodded, picking up his phone and rising from the table, “That’s fine. I’ll be sure to wear that tie then.” With that, he exited the dining room and headed upstairs, with you catching a glimpse of him entering his upstairs office.

Sitting back in your chair, you groaned audibly. Could you get through a single day without making yourself look like a fool in front of Yoongi? You flailed slightly in a mini tantrum at the day’s events before gazing at your plate. Opting for more food, you shoveled it into your mouth in an attempt to soothe your aching ego. After finishing admittedly more than a couple of servings worth, you gathered both yours and Yoongi’s plates and put them in the dishwasher. You filled up your water bottle before climbing the stairs to your room. 

You wanted nothing more than to collapse in your bed but your unfinished desk lying in pieces on the floor was weighing on you, in addition to the large TV box that sat inconveniently in the middle of your room. Sighing, you dropped down into a cross-legged position beside the mess of wooden planks and screws and continued putting together the desk, not looking forward to the long night ahead. 

At least you had the gallery tomorrow to look forward to.

When you awoke the next morning, it was just past eleven. The bedsheets were crumpled around you and your hair was a tangled mess, but your desk and TV were set up prettily. You must’ve worked late into the night because you didn’t remember getting into bed, much less finishing the desk or setting up the TV. You still had to attach your console and Blu-ray player anyway. 

Blearily, you pulled yourself out of bed, stumbling down the stairs and into the kitchen for a cup of tea. Your eyes were barely open so you didn’t notice the way your cropped shirt had slipped down your shoulder with its wide neck, nor Yoongi sitting on the couch with a coffee mug in his hand. You squinted through the cupboard to find your favorite mug and picked it out, grabbing the lavender-infused tea that was a regular of yours before setting the kettle to boil. As you waited for the water to boil, you rubbed your eyes awake, finally noticing Yoongi staring at you from the couch. 

“Oh, I’m sorry,” you bowed slightly, “I didn’t see you there. Good morning.”

Yoongi only nodded, raising his coffee mug to you before returning his gaze to his phone. You were still too tired to feel much embarrassment so you only shrugged and turned back to the kettle. Surprisingly, Yoongi wasn’t done interacting with you, startling you to face him. 

“Do you have any plans for before the gala?”

“Yes, I’m going to an art show nearby. But I’ll be back in time to get ready,” you rushed to answer. 

Yoongi took a sip of his coffee, his eyebrows raised and eyes staring into you from behind the rim of the cup. 

“Oh, sorry, I would ask you to come along but it’s a ticketed event and they’re sold out,” you stuttered, figuring that was why he was still looking at you questioningly. 

Yoongi set his mug down, eyes flickering over your form, “I wasn’t planning on going anyway.”

“Ah, right,” you awkwardly said, internally scolding yourself for the embarrassing display. 

Of course, he wasn’t asking to go with you, how dense could you be?

Your body felt hot with humiliation and you willed the water to boil faster. Somehow, the gods answered you and the kettle went off, making you rush to pour out the water into your mug. You opted to let it steep in your room, ready to get out of the shared space where Yoongi’s judgemental gaze lay. 

Nodding a quick goodbye, you rushed up the steps and entered the oasis of your room. You set down your mug on your desk, letting it steep, and entered your closet to pick out an outfit for the gallery. You ended up choosing a short, brown, corduroy dress to layer over a collared white blouse, feeling quite cute in the outfit. You set the clothes aside, sitting down to drink your tea while reading a bit more of the fantasy book you’d recently picked up. You had made sure to note down your wide collection of books to be part of the things you brought from your apartment. You hadn’t managed to fit everything, but you had brought a significant portion of your favorites and ones you were currently reading. 

Once you finished your tea, you set your book aside and began to ready yourself for a shower. After brushing through your hair and grabbing some undergarments, you entered the shower, making sure to take your time and shave for both your dress now and later tonight. The shower was warm and soothing, relaxing your body underneath the steaming stream of water. 

After exiting, you did your normal post-shower routine of moisturizing, making sure to add a little extra care to your face. Not for any reason, in particular, you told yourself, just to feel a little pretty. After finishing, you donned your dress and blouse, adding shorts underneath just in case, and began styling your hair. It didn’t need too much as you decided to leave it open, parting it slightly to one side and ruffling it a bit to give it some volume. You finished off with some light makeup and simple gold jewelry, satisfied with your final look. You didn’t get dressed up too often, but you liked doing it for events like galleries, partly for the pictures but mostly just to feel cute. 

You snapped a quick picture of your finished look in the mirror in your closet and sent it to the group chat you had with Joohee and Hoseok. 

To: Milf Club (est. 2014)

You:

image attached

art gallery fit 💪

Hoebi:

you look like my wife

*future wife

Joo-nie:

omgg step on me queen

so when are you attending the met gala 🤨

You:

omfg it’s just a dress you guys

also i better see you at the gala tonight joo

bring hobi as your date

Joo-nie:

ew no

you can bring him as yours tho

You:

i have a literal husband who’s my date

Hoebi:

girls girls, don’t fight there’s enough hobi to go around

Joo-nie:

die

You:

nevermind, you can stay home

Hoebi:

you guys are so mean 😭

i was planning on touring a potential studio space anyway so go have fun being rich

Joo-nie:

omg good luck! let us know how it goes!

You:

yes def do

i’ll see you tonight joo

Glancing at your watch, you noted the time being around 2:30. It gave you enough time to stop by a cafe by the art gallery to grab a snack since you hadn’t eaten yet. You opted for your crocheted tote bag, not really caring about it making the look more casual, and stuffed your phone, wallet, and a small water bottle inside. You were planning on walking to the gallery so you didn’t need to bring your keys. Lastly, you pulled on some socks and headed downstairs. 

Yoongi was still sitting on the couch and you felt his eyes follow your form walking to the door. As you slipped on your shoes, he called out to you, “Going to the gallery?”

You nodded, “Yeah, I’ll be back in a couple of hours.”

Yoongi nodded in response, still looking at you, “You, uh,”

You stood fully, finished with your shoes, and looked at him to continue.

“See you then,” he finished, leaving you slightly confused at his odd demeanor but smiling politely nonetheless. Just as you opened the door and began to exit, you heard his voice once more. 

“Have fun.”

You turned to face him, sending him a genuine smile, “Thanks, I will! See you tonight.”

With that, you closed the door behind you and headed to the small cafe near the gallery. The walk was pleasant with warm weather that wasn’t too hot and a slight breeze to cool you. Soon, you reached the cafe, a cute and quaint spot that had been around for around ten years at that point. You visited often with Joohee on Saturday afternoons when the two of you had plans later in the day. 

You opened the door, it jingling in response to your arrival, and the employee at the counter looked up. The one working that morning was Daehwa, a college student who had been working there for a couple of years now. He knew your order well and often engaged you in conversation if the cafe was empty. There was a bit of a crowd today so he quickly entered your order without you having to say anything, and began making it while you waited off to the side. Once he presented you with your iced tea and croissant with a wink, you sent him a grateful smile, and quickly tore through the croissant, noting the time getting closer to three. 

You finished your snack in record time and quickly stood, clearing away your space and waving a quick goodbye to Daehwa, who sent you a grin in response. The gallery was just across the street and had a small line outside, which you quickly joined. You sipped the last of your tea, looking around for a trashcan near you so you didn’t have to bring it inside the gallery, but only saw one close to the entrance which meant you’d lose your spot in line. The idea made you frown and you considered keeping the empty cup in your bag until you moved forward in the line. 

“Seo Y/N?”

You turned at the mention of your name to find Kim Namjoon standing behind you in a light brown sweater and collared white shirt underneath, with a darker brown corduroy blazer and khakis. He had round, wiry glasses on and wore a stunning smile that showed off his deep dimples. 

“Oh, Namjoon-ssi, I didn’t realize you’d be attending this as well,” you said, smiling and bowing politely. 

“Yeah, I’ve been following this artist for a while now and saw a couple of months ago that they were doing an exhibition. Do you like Cha Heewon too,” he asked, putting his hands into his pockets. His kind gaze on you and sweet smile made your cheeks feel warm as you tucked a piece of hair behind your ear. 

“Yeah, I’ve been following them for a few years now so I was really excited when I saw the location for this show. I was lucky to get tickets, they sold out so fast!”

“I know, right? I was basically refreshing the page the day they opened up trying to be the first one in,” Namjoon chuckled and his baritone voice reverberated through your bones, almost making you sigh. 

“Yeah, but at least we’re here now,” you smiled, about to turn back around. 

“Would you, uh, like to walk around the exhibit together,” Namjoon asked, scratching the back of his head. 

You hesitated for a moment, wondering if this would be crossing a line with Yoongi, but you steeled yourself. He wasn’t allowed to dictate who you became friends with. You clearly bumped into Namjooon by coincidence and have a shared interest, so why wouldn’t you two walk around together? 

“I’d love to,” you responded, feeling proud of your steadfastness in not letting Yoongi mandate your choices or social interactions. 

Namjoon smiled widely in response, nodding, “Great, none of the other guys want to come with me to these kinds of things. Sometimes, Tae does but he’s super flaky.”

You chuckled, “Same here, Joo always complains about how boring it is and Hobi wasn’t even here, but he wouldn’t enjoy it either.”

“Hobi, that’s Hoseok, right? The one who worked in Busan,” Namjoon recalled, scratching his chin. 

“Yes,” you nodded, “He’s planning on moving back here so he’s all busy trying to get that sorted.”

“Well, maybe we can go to these things together in the future,” Namjoon proposed, smiling down at you. 

You felt your cheeks heat, being around handsome men wasn’t good for your health. You looked up at Namjoon, smiling in response, “I’d really like that, Namjoon-ssi.”

Namjoon cringed, his mouth turning up into a frown, “You can drop the formality, we’re the same age, right?”

You nodded, laughing slightly, “I guess I’m just used to it. I’d really like that, Namjoon-ah,” you emphasized. Namjoon chuckled, turning away for a moment. You could’ve sworn you saw his ears go pink at the edge. 

The line moved forward fairly quickly and the two of you were soon inside the exhibit, with you throwing away your cup at the entrance. Namjoon gave thoughtful commentary on each painting you stopped at, with you providing your thoughts as well. You found yourself quickly becoming comfortable in his presence and the two of you were soon joking around and making very pleasant conversation. 

At one point, an older woman stopped the two of you, stating, “You’re such a cute couple, I love your matching outfits. I hope you’re having a fun date!”

The woman walked off before you or Namjoon could correct her, so you ended up trying to laugh off the encounter. Her words made your cheeks burn and you worried that it had offended Namjoon, especially considering that Yoongi was his friend. If it bothered Namjoon, he didn’t show it, instead carrying on like nothing had happened.

Namjoon’s company was quite enjoyable and you relaxed into his smooth voice, feeling yourself becoming less and less stiff. The conversation flowed easily and you both bonded over your love for art, with Namjoon mentioning other artists that you noted down to look up later. He seemed much more experienced in this area than you and you found yourself enraptured by his explanations and passionate rants. 

A couple of hours passed and the two of you exited, with Namjoon insisting on walking you to Yoongi’s building. Your conversation from inside the gallery continued as you walked, and you found yourself not wanting to return to Yoongi’s apartment in favor of Namjoon’s calming presence. 

“I noticed you weren’t wearing your ring,” Namjoon mentioned, making you stumble in your step. 

You glanced down at your hand before scratching the back of your head embarrassedly, “Yeah, I guess I’m still getting used to it. It’s kind of weird, being married that is.”

“Yeah, I get that,” Namjoon smiled reassuringly, “I’m sure Yoongi hasn’t been the most receptive either.”

“Understatement of the year,” you laughed, a tinge of annoyance present in your tone, “He’s so hard to read.”

“He’s like that with most people. He takes some time to open up. I promise he’s a really great guy once you get to know him, he’s just a bit uncomfortable in the situation. He’ll warm up to you, eventually,” Namjoon said, patting your shoulder. 

“Eventually,” you repeated, twisting your hand around your ring finger. You should really put it on.

You had reached Yoongi’s building at this point and had stopped just outside the doors. Namjoon must’ve noticed your solemn mood because he added one last thing before leaving, “You know, as much as Yoongi’s dragged his feet throughout this whole marriage process, I haven’t seen him without his ring once since the wedding.”

You looked up at Namjoon, lips slightly parted at the surprising statement. Namjoon only winked before turning around, “I’ll see you at the gala tonight, Y/N.”

Nodding mutely, you waved, before entering into the building and taking the elevator up to Yoongi’s floor. You weren’t really sure what to make of Namjoon’s words. 

Adding the final touches to your look felt simple enough, you’d dressed for these types of galas before. The dark blue satin dress felt nice against your skin and the cowl neck flattered your bodice and neckline. You chose a thin necklace that dipped into your cleavage with matching earrings, deciding to keep your hair down to avoid having to style it. After donning your “rich people” watch, as Hoseok had dubbed it due to its stark contrast to your usual digital watch, you felt that your look was complete. Taking one last look in your mirror, you scrutinized yourself, trying to find anything that would make you seem undeserving of Yoongi. 

It wasn’t a train of thought you were comfortable with, but your mother had made sure to emphasize its importance. You needed to look like someone worthy of being at Yoongi’s side. You certainly didn’t feel like it, but your mother didn’t really care about that. Just like in everything else, the outward appearance and how you were perceived by others took the utmost importance. 

Your reflection stared back at you, solemn and lonely. You had tried to hide your tiredness with makeup, but you still felt that you could see the exhaustion in your face. You felt drained. 

Everything was tiring. 

You didn’t have time to wallow in self-pity, though. After tapping your cheeks lightly to give yourself some encouragement, you headed for your door. You were just about to open it, catching a glimpse of your hand encasing the doorknob, feeling that your finger looked empty. 

You considered for a moment whether you should really display your relationship or not, but Namjoon’s words circled inside your head. Shaking them off, you turned around, grabbing your wedding band off your desk, and slipping it on. You did say that you should wear it more regularly, you told yourself. 

You headed down the stairs, catching sight of Yoongi in his regular suit with a dark blue tie that was similar enough to the shade of your dress. He looked stunning with his dark hair combed back and suit fitted to his slender waist. Your eyes trailed up his form, appreciating his full visual before reaching his face, who was looking at you with wide eyes. 

Suddenly, you felt embarrassed, maybe you had tried a bit too hard. A nauseous feeling began building up in your stomach as you descended the staircase, feeling heavily self-conscious of your appearance. Did you try too hard? Not enough? Did you look ridiculous? You bit the inside of your cheek, not wanting to mess up your lipstick, maybe you should’ve tried for a different dress. The sickly feeling grew as you approached Yoongi at the door, avoiding making eye contact. You didn’t have time to change now, but you sure wished that you had a large coat to cover yourself. 

You really didn’t want to go to this gala.

As you finished slipping on your heels, clutching at your stomach to push away the ill sensation, you stood fully, facing the door. Yoongi hesitated for a moment in front of you before opening it and leading you to the elevator. The ride down to the garage was silent, save for Yoongi shifting about in his suit. You wondered if he was as uncomfortable as you, but quickly pushed the thought away. He had no reason to be uncomfortable.

The drive over to the banquet hall was equally silent, with the only words being exchanged between Yoongi and the driver who was waiting in the garage. Your fingers were constantly picking at invisible seams in your lap and your eyes stayed trained on the window beside you, trying your hardest not to think about Yoongi on your other side. 

He hadn’t said anything to you since you left the house, but you swore you could feel his eyes on you, which only made you more anxious. You had to continuously wipe your palms against the leather seats of the car and your dress to wipe off the sweat and his stare dug into you every time. Every few minutes or so, you’d consider trying to strike up conversation with him before thinking better of it, not wanting to face a judgemental or disgusted expression if he wore it. 

After what felt like forever, you finally arrived at the building the gala was being held at, the driver politely informing you that he would be back to pick you up at your request. Yoongi exited first due to you having to adjust your dress so you could exit gracefully, and he surprised you by opening your door and offering his hand for extra balance. 

The action made your cheeks heat before you remembered that you were in a public place now and he had to act the part of your husband. Reality crashed down on you, washing over you in a wave of bleakness, but you plastered on a submissive smile all the same. You took his hand, exiting the car, noticing Yoongi staring at your finger. You were about to question him before his gaze turned to you and his mouth formed a small smile. 

“You look beautiful,” he said, quietly, much too quiet for anyone around you to hear. The words sent warmth straight to your face and leave you stuttering out a ‘thank you’. Yoongi didn’t release your hand as you walked into the banquet hall, nodding your greetings at the guests you see first. Your mother spotted you immediately and waved you over, with you and Yoongi obediently following. 

“Good to see you could make it,” your mother said curtly, surveying your outfit. She only turned away afterwards, so you took that as your approval and discreetly tugged on Yoongi’s hand so you could move on. He got the hint, thankfully, and led you through the other standard greetings and pleasantries that were involved in events like these. 

The questions were repetitive, to say the least. 

“How are you two doing as a newly wedded couple?”

“How’s the business, Yoongi?”

“When are you two thinking of having kids?”

“Are you still working for that game company?”

It was exhausting, but Yoongi’s warm hand grasping your own grounded you. After about an hour, you’d made the rounds throughout the hall and Yoongi still hadn’t let go of you. But you weren’t complaining. A few times, you were offered champagne by a passing server, but you refused each time. Yoongi’s musky cologne was intoxicating enough. 

Finally, you reached a point where you could relax, no longer having any old men or women to dish out backhanded compliments and you having to awkwardly laugh through them. Yoongi seemed to also feel the tension release, noticing his shoulders sag slightly and a deep breath exhale from his lips. He released your hand, making you frown, feeling like your palm was empty now, but you couldn’t protest aloud. 

You figured that was the end of Yoongi’s image maintenance regarding your matrimony but his hand slid down the open back of your dress, erecting goosebumps in its wake. His fingers rested at the small of your back, gently guiding you to the group where Kim Seokjin, Kim Namjoon and Joohee stood talking. It rendered you speechless and you opted for silently following, with your brain working overtime to understand what was going on. 

You arrived at the group, Joohee immediately sending a look regarding the placement of Yoongi’s hands, but you were unable to respond, still too flustered by the warm of his skin against your back. You bowed mutely in greeting to the rest of the people there, smiling at Namjoon who returned it widely. 

“Where’s Yeonhee noona,” Yoongi asked, the mention of Seokjin’s wife pulling you into the conversation. 

“She’s at home with Hwannie,” Seokjin responded, smiling brightly at the mention of his wife and son. Yeonhee had given birth a few months ago to a beautiful baby boy, Hwansoo, and Seokjin hadn’t really shut up about him since. You’d seen Yeonhee at your wedding and she’d looked equally as elated, practically glowing. “I wanted to stay back too, but she mentioned something about wanting me out of the house for quality time with Hwannie,” Seokjin finished, earning a laugh from the group. 

Joohee was trying to silently communicate with you, asking whatever she could through shifts in her eyes and small head movements about your close proximity to Yoongi, but you had no answers. You hadn’t been expecting it either, Yoongi had taken the initiative to make physical contact. You could tell she was getting frustrated with your continued subtle shrugs before she looked behind you and cringed. 

“Great, mom wants me to go over there, probably for another marriage talk,” Joohee groaned, inching behind her brother to avoid her mother’s piercing gaze, “I think that’s Lee Hyunsoo, too! Gross! He’s an ass.”

You frowned at the mention of Hyunsoo, a common figure among those who belittled you in your youth at parties just like these. You felt Yoongi shift beside you before speaking, “Yeah, he is an ass, he kept making weird comments to me throughout the reception last week. Good luck with that.”

Yoongi’s comment only made you frown further. You hadn’t really noticed Hyunsoo during your reception, much less him talking to Yoongi. You couldn’t think on it for long, though, having to wave a solemn goodbye to Joohee who began her trek over to her beckoning mother. Yoongi continued his conversation with Seokjin, talking about some sort of business thing happening, nothing you cared too much about, and you were left staring blankly around you. 

“You look really pretty,” Namjoon said, drawing your attention, making you blush pink at his words. 

“Thanks, so do you, Namjoon-ah,” you teased in response, making him grin and show off his deep dimples. You instantly relaxed in his comforting presence, but you were still aware of Yoongi’s burning palm against your skin. 

“Oh, I meant to mention earlier today, you said you like plants, right? There’s this great plant shop in Samcheong-Dong that you should check out,” Namjoon began excitedly, making you recall your earlier conversation in which you had mentioned your plants at your apartment in passing. 

“We should totally check it out! I’m always down to get more plants, although I probably shouldn’t,” you joked, letting yourself ease into the easy conversation. 

“You can never have enough, or at least, that’s what I tell myself,” Namjoon chuckled, “There’s also another show next month for one of my favorite artists. Do you think you’d be up to check it out?”

You nodded, “Yeah, of course, I’d love to. Just send me the details.”

“I don’t think I actually got your number earlier,” Namjoon mentioned, scratching the back of his head and outstretching his hand holding his phone. 

“Oh, right, that would probably help,” you smiled, taking it and entering your number. You handed it back to him, smiling, but noticed the troubled expression on his fact, looking just beside you. 

Yoongi had stiffened next to you and you had been so absorbed in your conversation with Namjoon that you hadn’t noticed, or noticed the fact that Seokjin was gone now, talking to some other old businessman at another table. 

“Have you two gotten close,” Yoongi asked, though he didn’t really sound like he was looking for an answer, with gritted teeth and his hand pushing into your back. 

“Oh, um, we met at the art show earlier,” you said, looking at Namjoon to continue your thought. 

“Ah, yeah, we ended up walking around together and we became friends,” Namjoon laughed, though it seemed a little stilted, “Your wife’s really nice, hyung.”

“Thanks,” Yoongi said curtly, before releasing you and stepping away, “I have to go speak to a couple other people. Could you keep an eye on her, Namjoon?”

The question made you gawk, feeling anger rise from your trembling fingers. You didn’t need someone to keep an eye on you, you were a grown woman, for God’s sake. You moved to retort Yoongi’s absurd request but he was already walking away. What even was that? Why was he being so weird? Maybe his niceness earlier was just a fluke. Turning to Namjoon in a huff, you took in his sheepish smile. 

“I don’t really think you need babysitting, but I would like to talk more,” he offered kindly, making you release a breath and smile in return. 

“Yeah, that sounds nice,” you agreed, following him to a nearby table where you spent the rest of the evening. The conversation was pleasant, almost making you forget Yoongi’s odd behavior, but your anger for him had only simmered. He had no right to act like you weren’t your own agent, no right to treat you like a child. His earlier pleasant interactions with you and electric contact against your back left you even more confused, only adding to your anger. His moodswings were beginning to give you whiplash. 

You tried your best to focus in on your conversation with Namjoon for the rest of the night but you found your gaze drifting back to Yoongi. He was speaking with other men your father’s age, shaking hands and exchanging practiced polite smiles. He looked tired. 

But what did you care? You shouldn’t care, he had been so rude earlier, but you knew you couldn’t help it. Maybe you’d ask Mrs. Lim to make his favorite meal on Monday when she came back. 

The rest of the evening carried on uneventfully, with you and Namjoon making countless plans for shopping outings and art shows galore. He’d even managed to score tickets to an evening historical art museum tour, something you’d been wanting to attend for a while. Eventually, he had to leave, though, citing an early morning the next day, and hugged you goodbye. As he was doing so, he whispered in your ear, “I saw you put on the ring, I’m glad.” 

His hot breath on your ear made your brain stutter but you mumbled out an acknowledgement, and he soon released you, waving goodbye as he walked toward the exit. The rest of the attendees were beginning to leave too, signalling the beginning of the end of the night. You sat glumly at your table, noting that Joohee had already left, having had a quiet argument with her mother that caused her to storm out. 

You brought out your phone, making sure to message her asking if she was alright. Feeling a tap on your shoulder, you looked up to see Yoongi staring down on you with an impassive expression.

“Are you ready to go?”

You neglected to respond, still feeling upset with his earlier words, and simply stood, waiting to be led to the car. Yoongi obliged, not flinching at your cold demeanor, and you both soon entered the car, riding home in silence. 

During the drive home, your mind swirled with all sorts of questions regarding Yoongi’s behavior. His actions would likely point to jealousy surrounding Namjoon, but how did that make any sense? How could Yoongi harbor affection for you if he barely knew you? Especially if he seemed so opposed to the idea as well. 

You like Yoongi even though you barely know him.

Your mouth upturned at the unwelcome thought. That wasn’t a fair comparison, you didn’t outwardly show any jealousy toward Yoongi’s other conquests. And there wasn’t even anything between you and Namjoon to begin with. 

Well, mostly. You couldn’t deny the excitement you had when you saw him in the hall or the way you enjoyed speaking with him about everything and nothing throughout the art show and gala. But you weren’t going to think about that too hard right now. 

The only logical conclusion you could draw was that your close friendship with Namjoon made him uncomfortable. He did say that he didn’t want you to mix personal lives at all. You almost empathized with that before remembering his condescending words earlier that evening, making anger surge through your blood once more. 

Well, Yoongi could suck it. He didn’t get to dictate who you became friends with and he didn’t have any claim over his own friends, making them off-limits. You weren’t responsible for dealing with his childish feelings and immature attitude. That was all up to him. 

It’s his problem to figure out why he’s acting so bizarrely. 

Why was Yoongi acting so bizarrely? 

He couldn’t understand. Why did he feel so possessive over you? It’s not like he felt any romantic attraction, he was the one to set the open relationship boundary after all. Why did it bother him so much that you were evidently so close to Namjoon now? 

He breathed out a sigh, sitting idly in his studio upstairs, tired from the gala. Namjoon was one of his closest friends, they made music they’d never release together. He shouldn’t be upset that you’re becoming friends with him. He knew this rationally, but why did it still make him so uncomfortable?

As Yoongi leaned back in his chair, head upturned to the ceiling and eyes closed, his mind wandered to the few times he’d seen you in his home since the wedding. The morning after, you’d looked stunning, coming downstairs in nothing but the same shirt and shorts he’d seen you in the night prior, the cold air making him realize you weren’t wearing a bra. He’d averted his eyes at that point, feeling like he was encroaching on your privacy, even though you were in his kitchen. 

Watching you realize your own attire and scramble upstairs to change had been cute, but Yoongi hadn’t wanted to entertain that thought. Either way, it was quickly replaced by the way your body felt against his as he reached above you for a mug. He couldn’t erase the sensation of your soft curves against his front from his mind. 

When he’d arrived home in the middle of you redecorating, he wasn’t sure why he’d offered his help. Maybe he wanted to get a glimpse into your room, grasping at a chance to see your personality transferred to the decorations adorning your bedroom walls. He’d been surprised by how much he’d liked the cutesy embellishments you’d added, finding that the surprising duality suited you. You were so often carefully neutral in your expressions and words and seeing your personal taste being so pretty and pleasant was charming. 

Later that night, he was surprised to see your bedroom light still on at the late hour when he’d left his room to get water. He peeked inside, seeing you lying on the floor in a mess of bolts, evidently trying to finish the last plank on your desk that was set up against the wall. The sight of you spread out so comfortably on the floor, hair strewn around your head almost framing your face like a halo, and your mouth partially open, letting out soft snores made him smile. He entered your room as quietly as he could, gently lifting you onto your bed and tucking you in, not even stirring you in your deep sleep. 

He was about to leave when he stepped on a screw, making him flinch and look at the mess of things still left to do. If he’d finished up your desk and set up your TV, it was because he couldn’t stand a mess, not for any other reason. Not that you seemed to know based on your demeanor the next morning. 

You’d looked adorable, coming down the stairs in rumpled clothing and tangled hair, your shirt’s neck slipping down your shoulder. But, he’d kept that thought to himself, behind pursed lips. You’d looked equally as beautiful in your cute brown dress that you’d worn to the art show, making him frown at his memory of being unable to tell you so. 

Well, why should he? He’d been the one to separate you two so blatantly, after all. He shouldn’t give you mixed signals. 

The thoughts of you in your loose and tight clothing, the image of you coming down the stairs in the silk dress that draped perfectly over your curves, and the tantalizing feeling of your skip against his palm had him leaning further back into his chair. 

Maybe he was just horny.

Yoongi sat up, all of a sudden. That was totally it! He’s just distracted by you because he hasn’t been laid in a while. That had to be it. It couldn’t be anything else, he wouldn’t allow it to be. 

Yoongi grinned, an easy smile taking over his face. Why was he so worried, the answer had been so simple. All he had to do was find a quick one night stand and his problems would be solved. 

His grin faltered. Probably, his problems would probably be solved. He didn’t want to consider what it meant if they weren’t.

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[chantiepie]

💞ESPRESSO💞 Yoongi +18

Yoongi x Reader

Synopsis: You are the complete opposite of Yoongi... And he can't get you out of his head.

Warnings: Unprotected sex, masturbation.

Words: 5k.

ko-fi ☕

Now he's thinkin' 'bout me every night, oh Is it that sweet? I guess so

You liked pink, feeling the morning sun caress your skin as you went for your morning run. Your favorite coffee was with milk, you enjoyed pop music, your shoes were always soft and colorful, perfectly matching the delicate bows adorning your wavy hair.

Yoongi was the complete opposite. He preferred black. At night, he went out to drink whiskey, finding comfort in the smooth burn of the drink. In the mornings, it was pure coffee, without the addition of milk or sugar, just the invigorating bitterness to awaken his senses. Ink stained his skin, almost covering it completely, each drawing telling a story he kept to himself.

He couldn't understand where that attraction to You came from. He spent hours thinking about pink bows, something he had never done before. It all started three months ago, when you walked into the bar accompanied by some people he already knew. The moment your eyes met his, it was as if a magnet drew him to you. Throughout the night, even as he tried to disguise it, it was difficult for Yoongi to look away.

He mentally thanked his friend when he called his group to join them, even though there was no direct interaction between you.

After 10 minutes, he watched you, laughing at everything that was happening, engaging in lively conversations with the group.

After that encounter, things went from bad to worse for Yoongi. He was never one to get emotionally involved with anyone, preferring casual or no-strings-attached relationships. However, your presence stirred something within him in a way he couldn't understand. You were everything he avoided: outgoing, funny, sweet, the type of girl who seemed destined for a conventional life, marrying some heir who majored in business at Harvard and now works at a major Wall Street investment firm.

In that regard, he wasn't wrong. Yoongi, after that night, didn't make any advances since he discovered during the conversation that you were committed and that your boyfriend couldn't attend because he was tired, having recently been promoted. Nevertheless, he couldn't help but think about you, even when he tried to keep his distance.

Say you can't sleep, baby, I know That's that me, espresso

The second time you guys met, during a game night, or as they call it when the real goal is just to drink, Taehyung asks about your boyfriend. Yoongi continues to pour whiskey pretending not to hear..You respond that he's not coming because he's been really busy lately and quickly try to change the subject by letting out your classic laughs. 'What a surprise,' Tae whispers while sending only an eye roll. You listen, ignoring afterwards. However, Yoongi realizes that something isn't right in your reaction.

During the small party, as he scans the room, most people are standing around smoking or chatting, and the lights are partially dimmed, emitting only a kind of light that slowly changes colors. He notices two shadows in a corner near the kitchen and quickly realizes it's you and Jimin talking. From the movements and body language, he can see your expression of disappointment, with a look of indignation that he can't ignore. It's not sadness, but rather a clear disappointment that hangs over you.

Min rises from the couch, deliberately ignoring the tempting gestures of the redhead seeking his attention. With determined steps, he crosses the room, passing by everyone without exchanging a word, and ascends the stairs towards the balcony on the upper floor of the house. His steps echo softly through the hallway as he approaches the open area of the balcony, where the night breeze welcomes him.

Upon reaching the balcony, Min takes a deep breath of the cool night air before reaching for his pack of cigarettes and lighter. He eagerly seeks nicotine, longing to find brief relief from the tensions surrounding him.

The glass door is open, inviting him to enter. He settles into one of the chairs, immersing himself in his own thoughts, when he notices someone approaching and sitting beside him. He recognizes the presence without needing to check.

"Can I have one?" The question is simple but loaded with meaning. Min needs no more than that to understand. Without uttering a word, he extends the cigarette along with the lighter, sharing the gesture in silent understanding

"Someone asked about you yesterday," Jungkook, a guy who recently started working at the same bar as Yoongi, said casually as the two of them organized the glasses to open the establishment.

Jungkook, the youngest among the staff, was still attending university, carving out his path for the future. The guy had moved to the capital in a rush, without having had time to plan properly. Now, he found himself dependent on his parents for expenses, which made him feel like a burden on his shoulders. Determined to become more independent and relieve the financial burden on his family, Jungkook began looking for part-time jobs or ones that were only on weekends, which led him to Hoseok, who introduced him to the opportunity to work at the bar.

The next morning was just another ordinary workday for Yoongi. As he organized the glasses, his mind wandered among the bar's tasks.

"Someone asked about me?" Yoongi asked, trying to disguise his interest, but his curiosity was evident in his tone of voice.

"Yes, it was a girl," Jungkook replied, grabbing more glasses to organize. "She seemed interested in getting to know you better."

A shiver ran down Yoongi's spine. Was it her? Was she finally showing some interest? He couldn't help but feel a mixture of hope and anxiety.

"Do you know her name?" Yoongi asked, trying to sound casual.

Jungkook thought for a moment before responding. "I think it was... Yuna? Yeah, I think that was it."

The excitement on his face quickly faded, turning into a bored expression. He remembered her, the redhead, she was very pretty, but his mind was already made up.

Jungkook noticed, but chose to stay silent about it, quickly changing the subject and focusing on Hoseok's birthday that would take place at the bar in a month.

I can't relate to desperation My "give a fucks" are on vacation And I got this one boy and he won't stop calling When they act this way, I know I got 'em

The third time he saw you... Well... He wasn't sure if he really saw you or if it was just his mind conjuring up your image. It was late at night, during his off-duty hours, and Yoongi was outside a liquor store, along with some customers who had become closer to him. The night was too hot to stay indoors, so he decided to accept one of their invitations to hang out. Let's just say it was just for drinking and smoking outside some liquor store downtown.

After many bottles, including one being accidentally dropped on the ground, he looked at a corner and there you were, or at least he thought it was you. You were wearing a blue dress that reached mid-thigh, adorned with a large bow of the same color adorning your hair from behind.

Suddenly, everything flooded back into his mind, as if a wave of memories hit him, turning into a tangled mess of soft colors, filled with smiles and shared moments, as if he were reliving a scene from a romantic movie. Among the flashes of memory, images of cute teddy bears and affectionate gestures emerged.

It seemed incredibly real, but it all happened so fast. He began to doubt his own sanity, something he had been doing for some time, and the idea of ​​going after to find out who that person was came to his mind. Under the influence of the adrenaline that alcohol provided, he began to seriously consider the possibility of acting, taking advantage of the fact that nobody he was with knew you. This propelled him to overcome his shyness and hesitation, especially in front of the common circle of friends you shared.

One of the friends, probably taller and louder, nudged him on the shoulder with a wide smile. "Hey, Min! What are you staring at so intently? If you keep frowning like that, you'll get more wrinkles."

Yoongi shook his head, trying to play it off. "No, it's nothing. Just... I think I saw someone familiar over there on the corner."

The friend laughed, patting the pale man's back. "Ah, okay, we get it. Let's focus on the bottles, alright?"

Yoongi just nodded, but deep down, the glimpse he had of the figure on the corner continued to echo in his mind, like a soft melody he couldn't forget.

Walked in and dream came trued it for ya Soft skin and I perfumed it for ya

"Please, Madonna is a queen," you declare to Jimin with conviction as you both enter the venue, amidst a lively debate about pop divas worthy of a Twitter thread.

"Not just a queen, she's a goddess, along with Cher, baby," Jimin backs up his argument.

The bar belonged to Yoongi, and it was a cozy yet stylish establishment tucked away in a trendy corner of the city. The entrance greeted patrons with a neon sign flickering with warm hues, drawing them into a world where music and conversation flowed freely. Inside, dim lighting cast a soft glow over plush velvet couches and rustic wooden tables, creating an atmosphere that was both inviting and intimate. The walls were adorned with vintage posters of iconic musicians and artists, adding a touch of nostalgia to the modern ambiance. Behind the sleek bar counter, shelves lined with an impressive array of spirits and liquors glimmered under the spotlights, inviting guests to indulge in their favorite drinks. As you and Jimin settled into your seats, the sound of laughter and the clinking of glasses filled the air.

The noise of the music in the bar was loud, but not loud enough to prevent Yoongi from hearing your voice as you entered the establishment. His eyes locked onto you, dressed in a pink dress that hugged your curves irresistibly, outlining each contour with elegance. The suggestive neckline added a touch of boldness, leaving anyone who looked at you drooling with admiration. Your hair cascaded over your shoulders, framing a delicately made-up face that exuded confidence and charm. You seemed like a vision of pure sophistication and sensuality, and a subtle hint of jealousy struck Yoongi, though it was something he would never admit out loud.

Finally, it was Hoseok's birthday party, and the bar was packed, considering he was so sociable, seemingly friends with half the city. Yoongi didn't know even 20% of the people there, but he had let his friend invite whoever he wanted as a gift.

As a way to not make it too obvious that he had a crush on you, Yoongi kept himself busy with party duties. He served drinks, helped set up with Jungkook and Taehyung, who, by some miracles, actually started to pitch in... More often than not, they ended up hindering rather than helping.

As they worked on the preparations, Yoongi occasionally cast furtive glances in your direction, observing your movements and conversations with the other guests.

He found himself looking at you again, chatting animatedly with Jimin. You whispered to each other and glanced around, seemingly engaged in a private conversation that no one else could hear. His attention was soon taken when the music stopped, and he saw the guest of honor for the night on the small stage used for live music nights.

"I'm glad everyone's here and I want to thank you all, but especially Yoongi," Hoseok pointed to the dark corner of the bar where his friend was busy making drinks. When Yoongi realized that all eyes were on him, he felt a warmth creeping up his cheeks. But what really embarrassed him was noticing that you were watching him with your big eyes and a smile that made your face glow. "He provided this exclusive space for us. This party would have been impossible without you, brother."

He definitely wasn't used to being the center of attention, and the sensation made him uncomfortable.

As the party was in full swing, a sweet pop song started playing, and that's when he noticed the commotion around him. You were closer to him, and he didn't know how that happened, but something slipped from your lips as you stared into his eyes:

"Oh, he looks so cute wrapped 'round my finger."

You put the straw to your lips and gave him a slight smile. Before he realized it, you had vanished into the crowd.

But this empty space didn't remain so for long. Jimin, the guy he always saw you with everywhere. Something Yoongi suspected at first until he realized, through social media, that besides you being really friends, the guy with the big lips and cute smile had a girlfriend who strangely looked a lot like him. Jimin also got closer to Yoongi a bit before you showed up. He was friendly, not always, but had an aura of a playful boy.

"You got the message, right?" Jimin stopped in front of Yoongi and said this with a somewhat arrogant smile on his face as he nodded toward the upstairs, which not ironically was where Yoongi kept a second home when he wanted to escape from the world or felt too tired to go to his luxury apartment. The older man returned the smile, not wanting to show that he was lost.

"What are you two up to?"

"Why would we be up to anything?"

"You know you're always involved in something, right?" Yoongi raised his left eyebrow slightly as he questioned.

"Are we communicating in questions now?" Jimin repeated the act.

Yoongi remained silent, just waiting for the next response.

"Uh, I'm just getting things done here," he spoke again, pointing to Yoongi's house with his head. Jimin was already pushing him towards the stairs, not allowing Yoongi to think things through. "I need you to grab JK's bag, he left it there."

"Why is his bag in my house?"

"I don't know, just go already."

Yoongi climbed the stairs, trying to go unnoticed, a bit suspicious about what was going on. As he entered through the wooden door, he found the place completely silent and everything in place, the small living room and kitchen were in perfect order, with no sign of anything suspicious. He decided to turn back and return, but before he could do that, a loud noise coming from the bathroom made him freeze in place.

"That's a heavy door," the unmistakable female voice reached his ears, and in seconds, he understood all the strangeness that had occurred downstairs. You appeared in the hallway leading to the bedroom, perfect as always, but stumbling a bit with your tall white boots, most likely due to the force of the door.

Yoongi quickly turned around trying to leave the place unnoticed, but when he tried to open the door, it was locked from the outside. He mentally cursed Jimin for whatever the hell he was trying to do. He turned his gaze to you.

"Uh," he cleared his throat, trying to get your attention. Your surprised expression gave away that something was wrong, but he could see a hint of shyness glimmering in your eyes.

"Yoo-o-ngi?" You cleared your throat, still a bit incredulous. "Is something wrong? I needed to wash my hands. You know? Drinks, dancing, spilled... Jungkook told Jimin and that you authorized me to come here because of the bathroom line... Um, that's it, I guess?" It was like a meltdown, you spoke hurriedly in seconds, Yoongi barely caught on. That nervousness had an explanation.

What Yoongi didn't know was that you were enchanted by his figure, the way he remained mysterious, his large and firm hands holding the whiskey glass... Yoongi was far from the type of guy you were used to dating and attracting, but people like him were your ideal type of guy, the one you imagined before falling asleep or when watching a romantic comedy. It wasn't just a crush, you genuinely had developed an admiration for him in this short period of time. His organization and the way he fought for his goals were like a moment of silence in the daily chaos.

It was difficult for you to find a moment to talk to him because it seemed like the only thing he knew how to do was work. Besides, it would be strange to show up alone at his bar, right?

But it was becoming complicated to hide when you two met. Most of your friends had already noticed your glances, you weren't someone who could pretend. Now, in front of him, alone in a place illuminated only by the moonlight, it was difficult to hide.

"Jungkook didn't warn you, did he? I'm sorry, I-I..."

"Y/N," Yoongi's voice echoed through the hallway, sending a shiver down your spine. Your eyes met in the dim light, sparking with palpable tension. You held your breath, feeling a wave of desire course through your body. Yoongi's intense gaze pinned you in place, as if you were ensnared in a spell. You could feel the electricity in the air, the attraction pulsing between them like an invisible current. Your lips parted, ready to form words that were never spoken, but the sound died in your throat. You couldn't decipher what he was feeling.

"Just shut up," that wasn't what you expected. "I think I know exactly what's going on."

The tone of voice used left you feeling flushed, it was embarrassing. You tried to ignore all the reactions of your body and began to think about the events. And when you realized the plot, all your eyebrows raised and your cheeks violently reddened in understanding.

Jimin had convinced you to make a move today.

"The plan is easy." He spoke with calculated confidence, as if conducting a masterclass. The images on the TV screen flickered, displaying a variety of suggestive outfits. "You throw him some charm, something subtle but not too subtle, it needs to be teasing but not overly, something like a discreet invitation," Jimin explained, sliding the slides skillfully.

"I'll choose the clothes that please me," you retorted, with a tone of disapproval.

"Your clothes already have a vibe of another reserved, so it's all right," he replied with a mischievous smile. "Continuing, second step: you'll touch up your makeup in the bathroom upstairs. You know how it is, at these parties the main bathroom always gets crowded. Are you understanding?"

"Yes, Professor Park," you replied, feeling somewhat frustrated. "But why do I need to touch up my makeup?"

"Think with me, Y/N," Jimin said, adopting a persuasive tone. "That will probably happen after a while. I want to make sure that, by the time he sees you and you talk, you look absolutely stunning." You trusted Jimin's guidance, even if the reasoning behind it didn't make much sense.

"So, I'll lead the conversation with him and keep him around. When you come back, you'll be ready. You'll throw the charm, disappear, and then come back triumphant," Jimin concluded, outlining the plan with unwavering confidence.

Your hand automatically hits your forehead. You felt a little humiliated, especially considering his strange reaction.

"Yoongi, what did he tell you to come up here?" You don't look at him, avoiding any proximity.

"Does that really matter?" He was in front of you, making it impossible to look away. He saw you biting your lips in a moment of pure impulsivity, and that aroused him to the true Yoongi, the guy who doesn't need to woo someone, he fucks without a care.

He leans towards you, his lips meeting yours. His lips were soft, but you could hardly feel them, due to the force with which he grabbed your waist with one hand and the other behind your head, pulling your hair slightly. Their bodies pressed against each other, seeking relief for the tension that had built up between them.

You moaned in the form of a sigh, and he let out a arrogant chuckle in the middle of the kiss.

"Y/N... We haven't even started and you're already moaning like this?" Yoongi didn't want an answer, but he leaned back slightly from your face, pulling your hair again, this time with force, forcing you to look at him. He took advantage of your stretched neck to lick it up to your ear.

"So needy," he put his tongue back into your mouth.

Suddenly, Yoongi returned to what he was before he met you. The arrogance was in the air. You could only moan and murmur.

When one of his hands slipped between your legs, you choked in the middle of the kiss, stopping in alarm, but that didn't discourage Yoongi, who continued to move his fingers lightly over your panties.

Your mouths were close to each other, but remained separated, so close that Yoongi could feel your breath hitting his lips. Some strands of saliva still connected you. The older man's movements began to get faster, his reactions were making you embarrassed, you were about to climax without him even having touched you properly. A finger slipped into your wet hole.

"Yoongi," you were in ecstasy, broken, looking at his face, eyebrows furrowed, eyes closed, and mouth slightly open. You felt his breath close to yours, sighing, but without touching, it was a tease. Yoongi's hand slid to your jaw and held it firmly. He knew you were close by the pulsation of your pussy and the grip on his fingers.

"Yoongi... I'm going to cum, please don't stop, please," you whimpered as the tingling began from inside your belly, he kept up the pace; it was so wet there.

"Yes, fuck, cum on my fingers," that was enough.

And so you did, in small gasps and with tightly closed eyes, you melted over him, almost falling to the ground.

You barely noticed when he put you on top of the kitchen table and, with a gentle push, laid you down, pulling up your dress to your waist. Yoongi's large rings made contact with the warm skin of your belly, bringing more sighs.

Yoongi looked into your eyes asking for permission, receiving only a pleading look to continue. You threw your head back, completely lying down. It was only possible to hear the metallic sound of the belt being opened and a light sound of his pants falling to his ankles. Peeking, you came across the most promiscuous scene you had ever seen. Yoongi looking directly at your pussy still covered by panties, with his lips between his teeth, while he masturbated lightly. He grunted like an animal before approaching.

He pushes the panties aside and slowly slides into you, earning a dragged moan from you. He takes advantage of his position and, running his hand over the outside of your thighs, he pulls you closer, returning to vigorously swinging his hips towards you.

His breathing becomes heavier as Yoongi's gaze fixates on the action that is taking place. He is ignoring everything as if that were the only thing that mattered, just listening to the sound of their skins colliding.

"Don't stop," your voice comes out in a whisper, knowing that he is close to climaxing. The movements accelerate more than possible, and Yoongi's voice becomes a tangle of grunts and sighs until he buries himself deep inside you.

You feel every movement of his, every part of him inside you, an overwhelming sensation that makes your whole body tremble. Your breathing becomes heavy, your heart beats irregularly, and the heat between you is palpable, enveloping you in an intense aura of desire and passion.

The last thing you remember is him with you in the shower, bathing you while you played around like two idiots. The hot water running down your naked bodies, the laughter echoing in the small space of the bathroom. Shortly after, without even bothering to dry off, you both fall onto the bed, your bodies still wet, but your hearts filled with an intense and profound connection.

Jimin would be punished for lying.

Is it that sweet? I guess so That's that me, espresso

Two men were inside a large black car parked in front of the bar across the street. The party had ended an hour ago, nearly 7 a.m., but they remained there for an important reason.

"Did it work?" The man with large eyes asks.

"Believe me, I don't give it five months for Y/N to show up with a grumpy mini-Min ready to cry on my shoulder," he says, taking another sip from the cold beer can, taken from Yoongi's special stock, but he knew he deserved it, as they had taken care of the place and closed after the party.

"Anyway, I hadn't even noticed... This... um... thing they have... Jimin, when you wanted to talk to me, I thought it was about Yuna," the other comments.

"Haha, that was a lie. She's obviously attractive. I just wanted to test him a little before leaving my best friend in his hands," Jimin says naturally, gesturing with his hand to support his own plan.

"Lie?" Jungkook turns his body fully towards Jimin, with his eyebrows deeply furrowed and his arms open in indignation.

Jimin puts his hand on his shoulder and follows his gaze to the second floor of the establishment.

"You know, a good cupid needs to ensure all possibilities." Jimin checks his phone one last time before leaving, and only one notification catches his attention.

"Your NETFLIX login is no longer available. Would you like to sign in with another account?"

A scream was heard throughout the neighborhood.

Hello everyone. Just popping in to let you know that next week I'll be posting the second chapter of Get This Man <3.

[ugh-yoongi]

hii! thanks for answering my ask about your favorite namjoon fics 🥰 could you recommend your favorite yoongi fics if you haven't done it yet? thank you soo much! 💗

you got it 🫡

most of these works contain mature themes/content. please heed tags and do not engage with any explicit work if you are a minor!

i know there are a bunch i’ve forgotten, so please reblog and share your own work and your faves!

also, please note: there are a lot of fics on these lists that are posted to ao3. it has recently come out that a volunteer was removed from their position for being pro-palestine (you can find the twt thread here). i am in the process of looking for a better alternative, but until then, it is unfortunately probably the best way to share these stories. while i personally won’t be posting to or reading on ao3 for the time being, how you choose to engage going forward is completely up to you! i just wanted to make sure i was being transparent.

yoongi x reader

love language by @gukslut

please be naked and first and last and always by @floralseokjin

the dinner party by @anotherbtswriter

straight shooter by @snackhobi

winter: you're the one that bloomed me by @hot-soop

moonlit throne by @hobidreams

miss dial by @versigny

a love that endures by @cinnaminsvga

want a taste? by @suga-kookiemonster

cyberslut by @kimnjss

tip of the iceberg by @fortunexkookie

greedy by @xjoonchildx

boseong breakfast by @honeymoonjin

vogue by @gukyi

tell me what you want by @wwilloww

wine & budapest by @junghelioseok

the second time & stop thinking about me by @yoongiphoria

drip by @here2bbtstrash

cybersex by @gimmethatagustd

vows (and all the associated drabbles) by @hamsterclaw

darksided by @eoieopda

the pink pill by @dollfaceksj

volume

as always, mxm recs under the cut!

member x member

namgi: see namjoon recs here

sope: see hoseok recs here

yoonjin: see seokjin recs here

yoonkook: see jk recs here + fang fucker by @sailoryooons

atoms and empty space (yoonmin)

love maze (yoonmin)

there's a piece of you in how i dress (yoonmin)

cute, baby (yoonmin)

inevitabilities (yoonmin)

our beginnings never know our ends (yoonmin)

since feeling is first (yoonmin)

it's bad enough we get along so well (yoonmin)

he's what you want (i'm what you need) [yoonmin]

maybe i hate you can be our always (yoonmin)

smooth strip (yoonmin)

map of the sounds (taegi)

the romance of old clothes (taegi)

inside and out (taegi)

siren of the interstate (taegi)

espresso marmalade (taegi)

after all, all this time (taegi)

what happens in uni series (taegi)

return to baseline (taegi)

vanilla sweetheart (taegi)

nothing lasts forever (taegi)

wassily kandinsky improvisation 31 sea battle (taegi)

shots fired (taegi)

yachtgi series (taegi)

[hollyhomburg]

Before I Leave You (Pt.76)

Summary: Your Pre-heat fever builds and builds and builds until it breaks.

Tags: forced caretaking, Preheat, scenting, nesting, mindless fluff, hurt/comfort, omega/omega content, possessive behavior, omegaspace, lactation kink, Jin's hormones briefly convince him that the m/c is his actual pup, breeding kink, pregnancy kink, tummy worship?, nipple play, manhandling, heavy petting, fingering, exhibitionism, jk gets a little pussy obsessed, slight jk focus, slick marking, a tiny bit of ass play, slight painplay, implied/foreshadowed womb fucking, hole check, gentle spanking, dom! namjoon, d/s,

W/c: 12.3k

A/n: so it's once again birthday pup time for me! i'm going to be turning twenty eight! i can't believe it's my birthday already! as with my usual birthday tradition- i have made a little amazon wish list. it's been three years since I first did this and my room is littered with the little things you guys have gotten me over the years. I still sleep under the big duvet you guys got me and it's my favorite thing <3 the love you guys give me during my birthday always leaves me feeling warm for months.

Previous part - Masterlist - First part

Jungkook’s whole face is parked between your thighs, sweaty cheeks, chiseled jaw resting uncomfortably against your hip bones, Curling locks and all.

That’s the first thing that alerts you to the pack's predicament when you begin to wake up the next morning in the heat nest. There are raised voices nearby. Someone is upset, not angry. But upset.

A wide back rumbles behind you, and the uneasy scents dissipate.

All of your stuffed animals are piled around you, your jellycats and the special extra soft ones that Jimin and Tae got you. You can distantly remember reaching for them sometime during the early morning and whining. Yoongi’s voice pitched low and sweet.

“This one little lovely? How about this one?” a finger rubs against your cheek, running through your peach fuzz accompanied by a quiet hum of approval. “My broody little omega, just wanna keep all your small and cute things safe huh? So soft and little. Just wanna show the alphas that you can take care of small things in your nest, right?”

You remember whining and nuzzling, trying to tell him without words (words are so so hard in omegaspace) that you didn’t really care about showing the icky alphas resting too close in the hallway. All you care about is showing him.

Now as you wake, things are less simple. There are tense voices and scents all around you. A tangle of them no longer sour but still alpha. Jin has not let them into the nest yet but you're starting to need them- starting to think that even if they are icky you might as well just…be close to them. Something small and furry and desperate claws for them in your chest. For Namjoonie, Hobi, Jiminie, and Tae Tae Tae- in your chest. A need that had been quiet yesterday but is loud today.

The need for her rises up now like a rabid animal. Tae Tae Tae. All in your head. At least you think it might be all in your head- you can feel your mouth moving and someone coming close. A silky pant leg brushes your thigh as she starts to move only to get held back.

"You shouldn't- Tae- Jin will get mad."

Your instincts quiet at the sound of them and you begin to wake. You're not in heat yet. Not yet, but the fever is building. A slow drip starting to spill out around the edges. The surface tension in your being trembling and twitching. Burning through you and turning your mind crumbly and hazy at the edges.

“How’s her temperature?” You hear a distant voice ask. Joonie alpha. Your mind identifies.

You feel a wide familiar palm against your forehead. Your throat. “Still a little cold- thank you Jinnie- what a good omega keeping our pup warm.” More fluffy blankets get dumped on top of you and you feel like you’re buried beneath layers and layers of clouds. The shimmering delight on the edge of your instincts. a high keening sound and a low alpha growl.

They don't smell quite so rancid as they did yesterday but they still smell sour. You have a sinking feeling it has nothing to do with their pheromones or hormones and more to do with the moment. What they’re discussing.

But what could they ever possibly have to be afraid of? Your alphas are awfully strong and protective of you. In a nest so lovely and so soft there is nothing that could possibly hurt you. Jinnie made it so well you're half convinced it could keep monsters out.

You feel a hiss building in your throat at the idea of a particular monster. Distant in your memories but never far for long. The ickiest of alphas. Never. You rub your face harder into the object to your left. A sensation- a finger trails down your scent gland, touching where it aches. Nudging a whine from your throat.

But there is nothing at all bad here…Besides Kookie.

He's so sweaty and sticky that it's a little bit gross. It wouldn't be a problem if he wasn't laying all of his body weight into you and pressing his face anywhere your skin is bare. He clings, his hands sliding under your behind and hips to hold you close, face pressed to a spot that makes you shiver from the intensity, the sensitiveness, that every breath makes against your barely covered tummy.

Jungkook noses first into your navel and then lower. Little breaths of air and his chin tickling where you’re most sensitive. The scent of slick is cloying on the air, you have no idea if it’s his or yours or Jin’s.  

Huh, That's a little strange.

Jungkook's not usually so clingy with you in the morning. Usually, he reserves this particular trend of endless nuzzling for the alphas. He's holding you so tight that you couldn't even squirm away if you wanted to, rubbing his cheek over and over again along your thighs, your stomach, your pussy.

He rubs his cheek along the space between your thigh and hip and purrs. Loud and rumbly, vibrating against your front. You reach down sleepy, brushing his hair away from his face. You wish the alphas would let him sleep- but the sound of tense voices is making you feel sensitive and whiney.

"I can smell it hyung, don't tell me you can't- and look at the way he's-”

Jungkook turns and snaps his teeth at them and they fall silent. You lift up your head a little.

Jin's perched on the edge of the nest half in Namjoon’s lap. The pack alpha leans against the doorway as Jin dozes against his throat. Tae mirrors them on the other side of the pocket French doors. Wrapped in a duvet from one of the decoy nests and clutching a steaming cup of coffee.

A glass jug of electrolyte mix sits between them and a few cups of coffee leave rings on the floor. Colorful plastic cups stacked nearby. Steam rising in sweet ribbons. Hobi stands there in the doorway, stretches, and yawns. Revealing inches of toned tummy that your eyes fixate on.  Distantly you remember, "one sip of caffine isn't going to hurt Jinnie, Namjoon."

"Sorry pups- we didn't mean to wake you-" Tae is in bright red pj's, the kind patterned with small dark flowers, silky and impenetrable. You want them in the nest the second you see them. But- but-

You look down, and Jungkook's cheeks are just as red. Flushed and sweaty. His hips cocked at a weird angle; one leg hitched up in a position that looks wrong. He looks like he’s uncomfortable.

“Koo?” You ask, but he just lets out a small chirp. “What? Why are you-”

A hand in your hair makes you look up. Jimin is standing there, pursing his lips, looking down at you conflicted. Light streams in through a crack in the gauzy curtains, cutting across his waist, the spot where his shirt rides up on his hips revealing inches of honey skin and the line of his hipbones.

Your blunt omega teeth feel precariously sharp in your mouth. Two parts wanting and one part terror. Jimin, alpha, alpha in the nest. Alpha in the heat nest, alpha alpha alpha.

Jimin knows your terror, letting his shoulders slump and his scent spill out- unthreatening. Your panic eases away. “I was just fixing the curtains. They were making Jinnie uneasy.” The pack omega says nothing, settling up on Namjoon’s shoulder, looking like he’s falling asleep too. A strip of pale blue spring sky is visible only through the very top of the curtains.

“Minnie? What’s wrong with Koo? Why is he?” Jimin’s small smile falters, and you can tell he doesn’t want to say it. Whatever it is that the alphas were talking about.

Behind you, a warm chest moves, it's Yoongi. Soft and firm against your back. His chest expanding buffers you like gentle waves during a summer storm, gentle and lulling. It’s very hard to stay awake. So warm and so cuddled.

But Jungkook…

Your mate's voice is low in your ears, but his hand joins yours in pushing Jungkook's hair away from his sweaty face. Pinching his cheeks until Jungkook's tongue lolls out, licking Yoongi's fingers. It's lewd and it's hungry. You squirm back against Yoongi and at the smell of your slick.

So close to Jungkook's face, that you can't avoid it being scented on the air. A lax grin stretches Jungkook’s face, eyelashes fluttering, his smile dopey and out of it.

Yoongi's voice is rough from disuse, making your stomach swoop. Jungkook pushes against Yoongi's touch trying to get back to your stomach back between your legs. Chirping and trilling his displeasure. Trying to burrow and nuzzle through Yoongi’s hands unsuccessfully.

“Koo was feeling a little left out.”

“No,” you whisper, your stomach dropping for a whole other reason. Surprise making you lucid. “Really?”

Jungkook blinks, pouting. A little dazed. “I fucking hate cramps. Hyung- let go-” Yoongi lets Jungkook’s face go and he plants himself right back between your thighs. Nuzzling and shuffling until you let him closer. His face lowers to get closer to where you’re most sensitive. You try and stop him but Jungkook growls and you quiet.

The alpha’s watch as Jungkook nuzzles between your legs, nothing more than a thin layer of fabric to keep the smell of slick and all of where you’re most sensitive from Jungkook. Cheek squished against your pussy, soft breaths tickling your inner thigh. Jungkook settles and huffs.

Jimin runs a finger down your cheek but you hardly notice, still looking down at Jungkook, an upset pout already forming on your face.

"Oh," you're almost teary-eyed with it. You can't imagine Jungkook feeling as sensitive, as scared, as needy as you feel. It's upsetting, the fact that your nestmate is feeling so- so…and you can't- that he’s going into heat and you’re not-

You understand why Jin got upset yesterday. Having nestmates is different than having alphas or mates. There is a special corner of your instincts dedicated to taking care of them that hates this; all going into heat at the same time.

A smaller more wicked voice whispers other things, facts you dare not voice;

If alpha knocks you all up at once then you can all be pretty and round in the nest together. You can get all sweet with milk at the same time as Jungkook and Jin. It would be so easy- being pupped with Jungkook and Jin. Your sensitive sensitive tummy feels so unsafe, like this, Jungkook sleepily pulling up your shirt so that all of the alpha’s can see.

You shouldn’t be like this- you should both be belly down in the nest, you need to hide it from the alpha’s and leave it just for your nestmates to touch. Guarding you- that's what jungkook is doing. keeping your tummy safe from the alpha's until he deems you ready to be bred by them.

You want it. All of you safe and round and full, claimed by your alpha's in a way that sticks. You should stay close to him- make sure that alpha breeds him proper. All of them should breed Jungkook at least once just to make sure it takes.

Yoongi sets a hand over your stomach, and Jungkook tries to nip at it, to keep him away. Yoongi just pushes at his nose, a little playful. Jungkook grins, panting through his teeth. "Calm down pup, it's okay, Jungkook's gonna be fine. all three of your heats is nothing we can't handle."

Behind you, Tae snorts. hobi pinches her arm in repremand and she swats his hand away.

You nod wetly, but it’s hard to quiet your sniffles. Jimin leaves the nest, carefully stepping over the border so that he doesn't mess it up. Hoseok grabs his arm to steady him. Mindful of Jin’s boundaries that get momentarily tread over as Namjoon picks him up, helping with the aid of Tae and Jimin, to get Jinnie back into the nest.

With all of them looming over you, you feel incredibly small. looking and watching hungrily as they gently puppet the pack omega and lie him down. kind of on top of your plushie pile- but you don't mind- that's why you made it anyways. Jin sleepilly starts to tug them close, the soft and small things clutched to his chest.

The alpha's linger above you. looking down and watching. their feet depressing the nest where they stand.

Jungkook sighs against your thigh. "S'okay, at least now it's all of us together."

Omegaspace isn’t something you’ve seen on Jungkook as frequently as you would have liked. But there’s a childish pout to his lips. Cute, that you want to kiss at. Want to nibble. "Alphas don't even need to help- just Jinnie and me and Yoomi."

That gets a laugh out of the rest of them, Yoomi is a new nickname for your mate that leaves him smiling a little. You look up at him, eyes drooping and struggling to stay awake. You happen to agree but words are hard so you just settle for purring. Behind Jimin, you can see Hobi watching, smiling.

Jimin leans around the doorway and raises his eyebrow at Jungkook, as far as he dares to go into the nest room without permission. "You'll be begging for my knot later for that pup."

Jungkook huffs, "Won't, promise, not gonna ask for an icky-smelling alpha."

Jimin cocks head, "Is that so? Then maybe I should only knot Jinnie and her if you're so sure you won't need it."

Jungkook seems to second guess himself, "hyung wait- you can knot me just not-"

"I'm just teasing."

Jungkook huffs, nuzzling back between your legs, "meanie"

It feels strange, not necessarily sexual- having Jungkook's face pressed between your legs. There's a zing of pleasure at the touch, sure, but Yoongi holds your hips and keeps you still so that Jungkook can get comfortable. Holding you stationary so that you won't move against the feeling of his nose nuzzling over your underwear.

His low voice is husky in your ear as he whispers, “That’s it pup, let Jungkookie and then you can- there you go. No- No rubbing. Be a good pup and settle.”

You feel yourself clench weakly and when you open your eyes, Namjoon is watching you from the doorway. Eyes dark and scent unrepentantly sweet and musky. You don’t mind him watching. The sight of all of his omegas in a heat nest is one that he’s allowed to indulge in. Tae too- wraps around his arm with her head resting on his shoulder.

Every minute the alpha’s are allowed closer, last night they weren’t allowed in the doorway, now, one at a time in the nest. It’s only a matter of time before all bets are off and they’re all allowed here.  

Jungkook settles once he finds the right spot on your plush thigh. His warm breath easing away the remaining ache in your core. The cramps are better now but not entirely gone yet. Your body preparing itself for your alpha's, making room for their cocks and their knots.

You wonder if you'll be able to take Namjoon's unprepped. You're almost dizzy with the thought of it. You wonder what it's going to feel like- having him fuck you through your heat along with Jungkook and Jin. Namjoon's knot would be the best- the exact things your cramps need. Soon the cramping will fade and the need to be filled will take its place, you can already feel it a little.

Namjoon watches Jungkook nuzzle, you part your thighs further to show and-

Yoongi's teeth bite into the back of your neck, the same second Jungkook’s clamp on your inner thigh, not hard- just enough for you to feel it.

Yoongi's words swallow your whine. "Calm pup- not yet- not until the pack omega says you can." Not until I say you can.

Even having the alphas a little too close could trigger your heat too soon. They're doing their best, trying to stay away. With Jin and Jungkook the risk of triggering a heat isn't quite so scary. But with you, it’s a little unpredictable. The last thing they want to do is have it come too quick.

Jungkook is a good omega. He won't let any alphas come close until Jin says so. Literally guarding your stomach and womb from a knot. It's a little cute, even if it is a little lewd. He grumbles out something unintelligible before he huffs one final time and goes back to sleep. Shuffling his hips, a little, legs splaying like he's trying to alleviate the ache there a little.

There is some murmuring, the rest of them talking over each other while you look down at Jungkook and comb through his hair, Yoongi's fingers dancing across his jaw, hovering on his lower lip, and Jungkook returns to nuzzling into your stomach.

“Three omegas in heat- how are we going to do this?”

Tae's hand grips Jimin's, squeezing hard as they stand in the nest. Namjoon fluffs a blanket over Jin's back. the pack omega's hands deftly tangling with a stuffed bunny you have. ordinarily- jin would never cuddle with your stuffed animals like this- but it fills you with a sense of soft chagrined. The pack omega can want these things, can like these things, nesting doesn't always have to be about protecting- it can just feel nice too.

It doesn't have to be scary, it's feeling less scary already. you don't mind that the alpha's are here, standing around you three and yoongi.

“We’ll manage, same way we always do.” She turns, hair fluffing, she's taken it out of her rollers already and it falls in soft waves. She looks soft, looks like she belongs in the nest. You're glad she's here. You crane your neck and Tae notices, stooping slightly to touch your cheek.

"Mommy alpha? Please?" you start, and behind you, Yoongi mutters a curse.

Tae says nothing, a gentle smile spreading her cheeks, touch your cheek. They're doing alot of that- you wonder why? Your cheeks feel awfully pink and feverish, sensitive there.

The alphas are starting to smell nicer, very very nice, not sweet and cloying like Jin and Jungkook- but musky and tempting. You nuzzle into Tae’s wrist, nose searching for more of the scent. Her fingers itch towards the back of your neck. A scruff would make you so pliant and docile- and she wants to hear you squeak and purr more- like last night.

But Jungkook sits up, eyes beady, snapping his teeth. His hiss loud, "Mine" he's crouched low, prepared to pounce, mouth cleaved open in a snarl- guarding the nest and you. Tae's eyes go wide and Namjoon grabs her around her wrist.

"Kookie-" Namjoon tries to start, but Jungkook just hisses again.

You feel like you're further along than Jungkook is in your pre-heat, the restlessness in you quieted to a tired hum. You comb your hands through his hair as the alpha's make themselves scarce. Tae sends you a long look over her shoulder, mouthing "Sorry pup."

Beside you. Jin sleeps on, a big big big stuffed animal of yours that you might have scented in a daze half asleep (sleep nesting- similar to sleepwalking) pinned under his body. Jin stays asleep unaware of the snapping and light squabbles. Chest rising and falling underneath a cut of sunlight.

The alphas take it in stride, giving Jungkook space. You doze in between minutes, turning sideways to tuck your face into Yoongi's throat and hide from the sunlight. The springtime sunshine streams through the window all yellow and golden. You listen to the distant thunder of your alpha's speaking. Yoongi shuffles out from under and behind you and whispers softly that he'll be back in a minute. You only grumble quietly, and listen to his conversation with the others in the hall.

The soft smacking sound of kisses. "Sorry did we-"

Jungkook nuzzles into your stomach. Distracting you from the conversation in the hall. "No, just need coffee,"

You close your eyes and breathe and when you open your them you can watch the dustmotes swirl above you. Catching the light.

"Thank you- I'm sorry we didn't-" Jimin cuts himself off.

"It's find- Koo just-" Yoongi makes a disconcerting noise. Not a trill but a question without an answer. "You okay?"

If Jimin answers, you can't see it. The world slipping away under the guise of sleep.

"Koo's is hitting quick." that sentence gets no answer. No acknowledgment.

They’re unsure when exactly it will hit either by tonight or tomorrow morning if you’re lucky. You don’t need to ask what the alphas did last night, but as you listen to them in the hall- rolling up some blankets (a decoy nest sacrificed for a sleeping spot.)

You gather that either one or all of them slept outside of the door last night, guarding the door and keeping you safe from any potential intruders. The only people who are allowed to freely come and go is of course- Noodle and Yoongi.

You must nod off at one point, because the next time you wake Jungkook has pulled himself up a little, head resting just below your ribs and Jin is lifting his head up out from under your stuffed animal pile. Sighing sleepily he scents Jungkook’s preheat on the air, dragging himself close to rub a soothing hand down Jungkook’s back. Looking down at the other omega and biting his lips.

At the pack omega's closeness, jungkook's arms tighten around your waist. “They’re not going to hurt us Koo, you can let go.” Jungkook's arms only tighten around your waist further in answer.

“Can’t! Something bad is gonna happen if I let go!” Jin sighs, and you try and tell him with your eyes that it’s fine- that Jungkook can stay right here like this if it helps him, you really don’t mind. 

He leans over you, pressing his nose to your scent gland but you make a noise and pull away. “Your face is scratchy.”

Jin sits back on his heels, rubbing at his face almost angry, frustrated “God damn it.”

“Come on hyung you love my heats-”

Jin scoffs, “Yeah but you-“ he seems to get ahold of himself. He pulls himself over to your and Jungkook’s quiet cuddle. Your legs, Jungkook's, Jin's. You don't know why you're still so tired, even after sleeping the whole night and most of the morning away, exhaustion pulls you down like a lead weight.

The next time you come to your mate's hands pet through your hair and ask if any of you need anything. Yoongi feeds you sips of that electrolyte mix, rubbing across your jaw to get you to swallow down all of it. Clumsy with sleep, a bit of it dripping down your chin that Jungkook eagerly licks at. Lapping at the salt from your lips when you're done in reward.

But the three of you doze, three sleepy omega’s in a nest with little care to the world of the clattering outside in the kitchen and the smell of cooking food. Bread maybe? Pancakes?

Something sweet and syrupy eventually gets pressed against your lips, a strong arm around your waist, a soft croon- one of your alpha’s but it’s hard to tell who that says, “Open up- good puppy.”

Yoongi practices his massage on Jungkook- pushing aches out of all of you with his thumbs and his laughter. You and Jin share the heating pad after breakfast. Pressed first over Jin’s lap and then yours as you press closer and closer until your stomach is pressed up against Jin’s.

Nesting with them is sort of your favorite thing. You don't even mind that the alpha's have joined you in the nest during breakfast. They're still careful and they're still mindful. But it doesn't feel so scary- having them close.

To be pressed belly to belly with your pack omega makes you feel so small your eyelids droop further. Hands loosely tangled with Jin's shirt, his tank top too- one like Hobi's.

Hobi who gets up after breakfast, hair fluffed from a thorough scenting. Jungkook is really good at scenting, knows just how to rub his cheek into the alpha’s until they’re blushing and smelling musky. He’s very intent and particular with it and squirms closer and closer to them until Namjoon detangles him and tells him off.

Hobi sees a break in it and leaves the nest, something you're not allowed to do. Every time you even think to shift away from Jin, he tugs you closer.

“Pup, my pup,” Jin’s going in and out of lucidity, and he cradles you to his chest, eyes dark pools, pupils completely dilated. Hands grasping at your waist, your back, the back of your neck urging you lower, not too low- not in that way.

Jin stops around his heart, tugging you to his chest. Whining. “Pup too tiny, pup needs- I need-”

He holds you there, hand around the back of your neck. Your lips smushed against his skin. Your face pressed to his chest so close you can feel every thump of his heartbeat. You don't understand what Jin is trying to get you to do, at least not immediately.

Yoongi is there, it’s a good thing that he’s there. he takes Jin’s hands away from you and squeezes them. You blink blearily- unaware of just what Jin hints at, his whines of distress and near chirps that Yoongi shushes.

“Jinnie, baby- she is not actually your pup, you’re not-“ He sounds stressed. You want to tell him that you don’t mind but your words are hard to summon. Jin smells so good, his milky cream omega scent impossibly bright against your nose, almost citrussy.

“You don’t have milk sweet thing.”

You know that the instincts to protect and provide for pup and packmate get a little crossed in heats and ruts- but you never imagined that Jin would want to. Your toes curl, and full-body shivers erupt on your skin. Your eyes shoot open, immediately making eye contact with Yoongi- who looks stricken with something that looks an awful lot like arousal. Jin's chest heaves beneath you and he starts to tear up. Lower lip wobbling.

The heat beneath your skin bubbles up to meet him, and soon you'll melt away into nothing but sticky goey omega- you're sure of it. The embarrassment you feel at his urging is only quieted by the comfort you find in his touch, the way he holds you steady and tight. Almost captive. The idea of Jin- of your pack omega- doing that is-

Jin's big eyes are filling with tears, you have no doubt he’d be stomping his feet if he was standing if Yoongi wasn’t gently whipping those same tears away. Is this omegaspace? Is this what Jinnie looks like when he falls soft and sweet just as you do?

You have to help, you have to make him stop crying, filling the air with a rancid scent that's so different from his usual scent that it makes you want to cry too.

You nuzzle closer to his throat, where he's still sweet sweet milky. Lying your weight on his chest, he hisses at the sensitivity of having his nipples brush your shirt and you whimper too. Equally as sensitive there. Your hormones spiking wildly.

But you follow your instincts and the animal lurking beneath your skin that tells you to get your mouth on your pack omega and suck. Suckling on Jinnie’s scent gland, squishy and swollen under your teeth. Worrying away at it between your teeth.

That seems to settle him a bit, he goes lax under you almost instantly, sighing, coming up to cup the back of your head, urging you closer until you go dizzy with it. "Good omega- good little pup." Yoongi wipes a little saliva from your cheek, and your eyelashes flutter.

"The alphas- the alphas next- have to make sure everyone is taken care of- have to s'my pack, my pups." Jinnie babbles.

You wait until he settles and falls back asleep before you stop sucking at his skin and sit up. A little hazy at the edges. Pulling away. You've left several small red marks in your wake.

You’re starting to feel a little restless. Yesterday you’d thought that you could spend the rest of the month asleep and now? Now you fidget. Every time you try and leave the nest the alphas are there, corralling you back to it but you can’t help it. You want to look closer at Jin’s decoy nests in the hall, and the kitchen. You want to hunt down Noodle and maybe brush him a little. Brush him and give him treats and keep him closer and-

You hear the others smile when you say that, babbling mindlessly about this and that. And you know that it’s just your omegan nesting instincts, they’re the same instincts that you feel when you braid Jungkook’s hair, Tae’s too- perched on the edge of the nest. Keeping it away from their faces. Pressing your body along Tae’s side, hands guided by Jungkook, the three of you eat more breakfast to bulk up for the heat, for when you'll want little else but to fuck and be fucked.

But when your bellies are well and truly full, you roughhouse and play as pups do.

Jungkook pushes you down as you tease him by biting into his watermelon before he has a chance to steal the best bite, and he leans low to nip, imitating an alpha growl. It’s a way you’ve play wrestled before, an imitation of the way that Hobi and Jimin and Namjoon fight.

Only sometimes with Tae, less since she’s transitioned and she's deemed herself too delicate for alpha wrestling. You happen to agree.

She doesn't feel delicate when she drags you back by your hips, ignoring the way that they splay almost curious, when she lands a swat over your behind. Not that Jungkook gets any better treatment. Sides drawn over Namjoon's lap, giggling and squirming as half a dozen swats are dispensed over his behind. Just as zoomy as you are. Zoomy but sleepy.

The alphas are keeping an eye out for any sexual contact. “You’ll make it come too quick Koo- for both of you” Namjoon picks up Jungkook and put him back in the nest, away from you and not in the hall. Pouting up at your alpha.

"But hyung- we need to do something other than nap."

"Fine, you can go to the kitchen," Jungkook had perked up at that, "but not a walk Koo, I'm serious, if you were to go for a run right now, I'm not sure all of us could hold Jiminie back."

instincts chaff in strange ways. things that never would ordinarily irritate your alphas turn into grand offenses. like Clanging from the kitchen that comes with a loud shout and puttering feet. as if on queue jimin shouts from a room over.

"The mailman! The fucking mailman just put stuff in our mailbox! I should- I could-"

Tae leans out the door to shout down the hallway. Far away you hear noodle hiss- somewhat agreeing with Jimin’s frustrations.

"Jiminie- calm down, he's just doing his job, he's not here for our omega's."

Our omega's. You like the sound of that. You like the way Tae says it. 'Ours' has a nice ring to it. Relinquished briefly from your exhaustion and with permission- You and Jungkook are free from the nest- enough movement to sate your zoomies.

But not before a bath.

The alphas corral you one by one. You first, Jin second, and Jungkook last into the bathroom upstairs.

You're carried by Jimin and placed there (he almost drops you on the stairs because of how you nuzzle into his throat, his sensitive spot between his collar bones, and the skin over his pulse point is so tempting you can't resist a little nibble.) Tae follows close behind, watching the way your eyebrows pull together, peaking over Jimin's shoulder, teeth buried in his collar bones, and laugh. "Is Minnie yummy baby?"

You just bite down harder, and Jimin curses. His hands and arms remain firm and wrapped around you. Jimin would never drop you.

Huh, you should exploit that.

The shower is unexpectedly docile. Your wandering hands kept from wandering anywhere fun by Jimin's touch around your wrists. he holds you still no matter how much you whine and try to pull them out of his hands. You want to touch but they won't let you.

You try to peer at their knots but Tae picks up your chin and makes you look at just Jimin. You blink water out of your eyes. Jimin puts both your hands in one of his fists and then pushes his wet hair back from his face.

"If you look at us like that pup- what happens next won't be good. We have to make your heat come gentle."

"Gentle" you parrot weakly. Dazed. Shivering beneath the warm spray.

You whine and fight, but Jimin knows- senses you're doing it not to get away but because you like being held, like being manhandled and told what to do. You like the physical reminder that you’re not in control. It's like the play fighting- an imitation of something instinctual.

You squirm until you give in. Tae asks you to move and you move without thinking. Tae asks you to lift your arms and you lift your arms. Every “good pup” makes your brain hazy and your skin hum. Their pheromones are so thick in the air that you swear you can see them swirl. So close and confined to your alpha's your brain falls into a fugue state, almost trancelike.

Tae soaps up your body, cleaning you efficiently, trying not to linger, but it's hard when you keen at every touch, especially your chest, jolting in sensitivity. "I'm sorry pup- oh you're achy here? Mommy promises to kiss them better later." You like the idea of that. You curl close in Jimin's arms while Tae washes your hair. Hissing at every faint brush to your chest.

Places on you are sensitive that never were sensitive before. Your lower back, your chest, your throat. Tae drags the soap into circles and it feels like you spiral down and down. You know you'll be able to scrape together your brain later, but every time you go down into omegaspace it gets a little bit harder to come up for air. Your tether on your lucidity is flimsy at best. As effervescent as soap bubbles.

Jimin gives you light kisses for every order that you follow. his grip on your wrists slowly loostens until he's drawing your arms around his neck and holding you under your behind. "can't have you slipping pup." he says, voice low.

Jimin like you, has trouble speaking through his instincts. but when you open your eyes, he's watching you, keeping you steady and still for tae's touch.

and touch she does, indulging in it. soapy fingers dip low and scrub, inefficent but slow. a soft pleasure that warms you from the inside out, your stays perfectly relaxed. even as you mewl softly. jerking when tae uses the detachable showerhead to wash away the soap suds.

It feels sort of good- getting to scent and talk to and see Tae and Minnie one-on-one like this. Even if seeing them is more like falling asleep under the spray and talking to them is more like whining for your mommy until she gives you stupid chaste kisses to your cheek or forehead.

You tell her they're stupid kisses if they're not on your lips, and she rewards you with a raised eyebrow.

Omegaspace is deceptively hard to get out of, so you stop trying.

Eventually, the water stops falling around you and they help you out, drying off your body with your eyes closed. Arms loosely wound around Jimin’s neck. Tae pinches your cheeks, and you open your eyes before you open your mouth.

You feel like you're hearing everything through water. Yoongi is there and so is Namjoon, watching you with dark eyes, neither afraid nor hungry. tae says something that slips in one ear and out the other. Yoongi holds clothes for you. Just a single shirt, no pants or underwear.

Your body is too sensitive, and won't take or tolerate any more clothes than that- and only if it's his. It will get worse when you're in heat and your body won't be able to take anything touching it but the softest pillows.

Tae pinches your cheeks open gently. There is an orange bottle sitting there on the counter gathering condensation. Dark ink on the side reads 'for emergency uses only.'

You make eye contact with him as Namjoon puts the pill on your tongue.

Feeds you a bit of water, and closes your mouth, stroking your throat until he feels you swallow.

Bitter, It tastes bitter, rancid almost. Your body does not want whatever this pill offers- that you're sure of. You try to fight it, try to pull back, and spit it out. Jimin's rough fingers stroke your throat.

Namjoon puts a hand over your mouth so that you can and Namjoon growls low. "Swallow." You feel the command in your belly, your knees go weak, and you swallow without thinking. They let you go, Jimin sets you down, but still has to hold you up, your legs shaking like a newborn fawn.

"Was that?" You ask, dazed. Your words not making much sense. Yoongi puppets your arms through the holes of a shirt, pulling your wet hair out, stopping it from sticking to the back of your neck like he knows you hate.

"A contraceptive." Namjoon says, "We just have to be sure." You take greedy breaths of his scent. When he takes you from minnie, holding you up. Dizzy, unable to stand if he wasn’t holding you.

"I know pup, I know. Jinnie and Jungkook have to take them too." And when your whines don't cease. "One day" he promises. The rest of your alphas cast dangerously hungry looks over the top of your head.

But things like children, like pups, are not something you've discussed in any detail and with any certainty. Maybe with Yoongi and Tae every now and then. But you haven’t talked about pups like the rest of them have. Not lucidly. You're not thinking clearly right now, you only want pups because of the heat. No other reason.

Still, you pout up at Namjoon upset. Even while he carries you back downstairs, through the quiet house, past noodle sleeping belly up in his favorite window spot, past your shoes organized neatly by the door and to the heat nest. His arms hardly strain as he gets on his knees and then puts you down.

You keep your arms around his neck, looking at him, and Namjoon lets you.

“Mad at me?” You ask, eyes wide and worried, “don want Joonie to be mad at me.” You are so sensitive and sweet in omegaspace.

Namjoon is keenly aware of Yoongi behind him, he’s still a little angry about the car thing. But Namjoon just rubs his cheek against yours in an attempt at mollifying you. “Never mad at you- promise. Never.”

He tries to pull back but you don't let him. The nest is empty except for Jungkook, watching the two of you with wide dark eyes. You think Jinnie must be in the kitchen with your alpha's. You can hear them talk, hear Jin hiss, "I don't need you to carry me Minnie- yes I'm sure."

Namjoon cocks his head at you. Blinking softly. “Would a…” you nuzzle, and Joonie temporarily quiets, his scent thickening as you shuffle forward and settle onto his lap. “Would a punishment help?”

“Puppishment” Jungkook giggles from nearby, hair all ruffled and mused from rubbing his face into some of your plushies. He must like the way that the word fits in his mouth because he says it again and again, in a little singsong voice. “Puppishment pupishment pupishment” he giggles, and you join in laughing.

Namjoon smiles, looking down at the two of you, setting a hand on either of your heads and petting through your hair, you and Jungkook giggle and press your cheeks together. Your giggles quiet and you peer up at Yoongi in the doorway, sipping at a cup of something (coffee maybe? because he hadn't slept well last night- too busy watching over you) waiting until he nods. Giving you permission.

“Maybe? Gentle? just a little pupishment.” Namjoon hums, agreeing.

You go easily and without any squirming, draped over his lap. No need to pull anything down, no panties, nothing underneath your big shirt. At last one of your alpha's is letting you go belly down. You cling to Namjoon’s thighs, almost dizzy with it- the vulnerability and safety in your position.

You can feel yourself dripping, ever so slightly onto your upper thigh and probably Namjoon's leg. you are always so wet and now is no exception. Namjoon has to notice, his fists tightening for a second at the strength it takes him to hold back.

You can feel his restraint in every touch as he starts to rub, taking gentle handfuls of your behind in his big hands, groaning deep.

“Gentle huh? You just want it soft like that right? Soft like you are. thats why you let us do everything for you right? You just want everything soft and good and sweet like you.”

You suddenly cling to Namjoon’s thigh under your chest, almost looking back at him, tucking your face into the covers of the nest and breathing out at the intensity as he strokes over your behind, up and down.

The actual spanks aren’t anything like you’ve gotten before. Namjoon simply lays his hand against your skin a little quicker than a gentle touch. It makes more noise than anything else. And yet your fingers tangle weakly with the nest as he goes. He doesn’t even make you count them.

He doesn’t spend time touching you there or lower to tip you over into outright arousal although even with his restraint you’re embarrassingly close to cumming by the time he pulls back and sets his hand gently over your warmed bottom. Not even pink he’s been so gentle.

He flips you over, and you stare up at him, eyes dazed and glassy. It’s almost like he’s trying to make sure you don’t get too worked up. Despite the half-hardness you can feel first pressing into your stomach, and now, hard and long against your spine. Namjoon isn't rushing this.

Namjoon doesn't pull your shirt down yet, hiked up to just under your breasts. You rub your knees together and his nostrils flare at the smell of slick, he glances down, then back up at you. Your toes curl.

Jk lunches forward to nip at your ankle. Giggling softly. Jk leans his head between your legs and looks.

Namjoon sets his palm against your stomach, and you hiccup. Namjoon’s hands are so big his thumb and pinky stretch from hipbone to hipbone. Your waist is hardly dainty- not anymore- but you feel utterly small when Namjoon looks down at you, jaw rolling, growling out husky, “better?”

You nod, unable to speak or else risk something- some confession of plea that you’re not ready for. Your alpha continues to touch you, your soft belly, mindless swirls of his fingers. Until your heavy breathing quiets. Your alpha- touching you where you’re going to get bred, where he’s going to fill you. Makes you feel like a butterfly pinned to a piece of cardboard.

"Do you think you could tolerate a hole check without cumming?" Namjoon asks, looking conflicted.

"A hold check? Why?" You're still dizzy. "Aren't you going to be in my hole soon anyway?" Yoongi barks a surprised laugh and Namjoon's adam's apple bobs.

"With Jin and Jungkook we've done this enough that we know they've got like a few hours given-" Namjoon swallows, "how they are. But you've slept so much, we don't really know and-" Namjoon pets softly over your stomach. Yoongi is still watching from the door, hiding his smile with wordlessness from the door.

"Your cervix will start to open up so that you can take our knots extra extra deep. But it will only open if you're nearly there."

"Why- why check now?" you ask, you hiccup, sort of overwhelmed. "Not that I don't want to just-"

Yoongi answers from the door. "It means the difference between the alpha's sleeping in the nest or not tonight. That's why Namjoon is asking." He takes a sip, "We should also know, just like- generally- so that we're not surprised." You look at the window, almost dizzy when you realize it's already dark. You are losing time slipping out of your fingers.

You lift your head, shakey. Nodding, flipping back over onto your stomach, and giving Namjoon permission. Yoongi gets in the nest, and on the back of your neck rubbing soothingly.

Namjoon wastes little time. You sigh at the feeling of his fingers filling you- that- yes that is exactly what you want. "Good pup, relax for me" It's hard, and you whimper.

But Namjoon's fingers crook deep, past the first knuckle and all the way to the second. His fingers feel so long and thick inside of you. You clench a little, trying to pull him deeper. You're so tender and hot inside. Yoongi can see it on Namjoon's face the second it registers precisely what your heat feels like from the inside out.

You feel Namjoon Press against something usually hard that has turned spongey and pliable and so so sensitive. So sensitive that it makes your clit twitch against his pant leg, just a little. Jungkook laughs, and you realize he's ducking low, watching.

"Cute"

You whine and squirm and Yoongi whispers sweet nothings to you. Namjoon pets, moving his fingers. Namjoon presses again and after a brief moment of pressure, he slips through. "There we go pup- all nice and open for us, won't be long now."

The hole check is over before it really even begins. Yoongi crouches over you whispering endless praises as Namjoon asks Jungkook where he'd like your slick to go in the nest. It will be soaked with it in no time, but jk still asks for it to be pressed to his tummy.

You watch them, cheeks warming. Watch as Namjoon smears it over Jungkook's soft stomach. A claiming mark if ever there was one.

Jin teeters to the entrance, looking round and pink-cheeked and substantially plied with food. Waddling with Hobi close behind. Jin's gaze darts from you to Namjoon and back again.

"How long?" Of course, Jin knows, knows exactly what Namjoon has done and why.

"Tonight," Namjoon says. Eyes fixated on the pack omega. "probably not until much much later, we can probably sleep so long as nothing triggers her." He turns to Kookie. "You hear that Koo? No funny buisness, alright? You've got to be extra gentle over the next few hours."

Jungkook just blinks up at Namjoon, albeit coquettishly.

Jin goes for a shower next. But it takes significantly more finagling to get him upstairs than it did for you. You’d never imagine that you’d be the obedient one- given your biting and squirming and whining. But you watch them wrangle Jin as Yoongi goes and gets a towel and a brush for your hair. The two of you are gentle and quiet even if the pack omega is anything but.

The truth is, you and Jungkook are purely entertained.

Jin grips the door frame hard enough that the wood creeks, knuckles turning white. While Hobi and Namjoon both try to get him to leave the next, unsuccessfully. Jin’s body jerks and then his head as he lifts his lip and hisses. Somehow he manages to look cute doing it.

"Why you little- don’t you dare tickle me Hoseok." It takes all four of your alphas and eventually your mate to get him upstairs. You grin at them from the nest and watch them struggle.

“I swear to god Namjoon I will scruff you if you try and order me around.”

"Hyung, we both know you'd enjoy it."

Having Namjoon be the bait makes it deceptively easy to corral your plucky little pack omega upstairs to deal with his 5 o'clock shadow and messy hair. Namjoon runs and Jin hunts him down. You wonder if this is how Jin was when he was younger. All mouthy and bratty.

Jungkook usually doesn't feel his grooming instincts too intensely, but the trembling in his muscles stops once he gets the brush in his hand.

You get a little lucid, just a little- while the alpha’s aren’t in the room. the air clearing from their scent. Jungkook sits behind you and brushes your hair. Tugging you close until you're sitting in his lap. Jungkook feels very very warm behind you. Warmer than usual. The shivers and goosebumps on your skin is concerning and your body still isn't self-regulating correctly. but it's a distant worry with jungkook so close and so warm, pressed hard against your spine.

“What are your heats like Kookie?”

Jungkook just shrugs, dragging the brush through your hair gently, tugging out the tangles with a practiced ease. “I don’t know, just like fuckin and cuddling I guess.”

You laugh, cheeks warm, and you can feel the start of it. A subtle swelling need in your stomach, a feeling that has you wanting to protect it and get belly down in the nest where no one can touch it.

No one except Jin and Jungkook and your mate. They'd probably be safe. They'd probably give you belly rubs.

Jungkook’s heat is hitting a little quicker. His body fighting to catch up to yours and Jin’s. You sit in his lap while he combs your hair. Your legs out in front of you, socked feet pushing at the edge of the nest.

At least until Jungkook’s hands get curious.

They skim first over your shoulders, lightly combing your hair into a loose order, then down your back to your waist. The big shirt no pants combo makes you squirm when Jungkook’s hands go around to your front.

Your back arches into his hands, "Sensitive?" he asks, all but pinching your chest between his fingers, massaging gently, feeling where you're big and plush.

"Yeah- they're like- super tender." He hums behind you but doesn’t stop his pinching. Keeping your body taught. You let Jungkook do what he wants with you, dizzy and susceptible to your need to be good and feel good. He cups your chest in his hands, running his palms up and down them- feeling their weight and their give. You don't stop him, you let him touch.

This is what your omega nestmates are for. To check, to make sure your body is safe just like Namjoon did. You have no doubt that if any of the alpha's do anything that Jungkook doesn't like- he'll tell them.

But Jungkook does like it when you squirm and squeak.

You chirp when Jungkook's hands go greedy, rolling your nipples between his fingers. tugging on them gently. His brain is getting away from him- because Jungkook would never talk this way ordinarily. You know very well that he doesn't want pups and yet- his brain and instincts will temporarily convince him that he wants something different.

"Wanna see these swollen with milk for pups, want alpha to put a pup in you, want him to breed both of us so that we can nest together with our tummies-" He giggles, cute, in omegaspace but so lewd with it. "You'd taste so sweet here, I want it- please-"

The idea of having…milk, of letting your pack omega and nestmate feed from you- makes you feel hot and tingly all over. You don't know if Jin put this idea in your mind and jungkook's or if they're both always like this.

You squirm, trying to get away from Jungkook and tell him that this isn't being a good pup and you know it. But before you can- Jungkook's teeth bite into the nape of your neck. Scruffing you and turning you limp and doll-like against his front. Your head goes fuzzy and you stop squirming, completely boneless.

You feel dizzy, so dizzy at it. he doesn't stop his pinch and pull rythem and you wonder why you ever wanted to stop Jungkook, not when it feels so good having his hands on you, so warm. He lets go of your neck with a hum. licking his teeth when they pop free from your skin.

Jungkook's hands are free to inch lower- past the hem of your shirt and between your thighs. Past your tummy and past your pussy, down low. 

Lower than the alphas would like but there are no alphas here, just you and Jungkook and the nest.

You try to back up into him as his fingers tease, wet with slickness from the first brush.  You wonder if you're leaking a lot already- if you're going to get all wet and messy with your heat. You're already so much wetter than Jungkook and Jin get normally. You're glad that Jin put down some waterproof blankets on the bottom of the nest. It's so embarrassing.

(If only you knew. Jungkook's salivating and he's not even an alpha. Waring with the idea of keeping you close on top of him like this, or detangling himself from you to have a taste. To bully his way back between your thighs like he woke up this morning. He should have taken it while he had the chance. He wants to taste your sweetness, your willingness to be bred, the fertility of your heat hot and sweet on his tongue. He knows the alpha's will go crazy for it. They always do.)

“Can’t wait for Alpha to put his knot in your puphole and make you cry, you're so pretty when you cry, wish I had a knot too- it's so so so unfair.” His fingers continue to move, your toes scrunch, at the pleasure, back arching.

“Which one?”

"Which what?"

"Which hole," you ask shyly. About to close your legs until Jungkook pinches and squeezes at your thighs. His fingers dimple in the fullness there. Opening you wide and pinching until you leave them that way- open and ready for the taking.

You eye the door warily. From the sound of it- your pack is preoccupied with wrangling Jinnie upstairs. but the door is open, anyone could walk by and see your pussy spread open like this. like this- you are jungkook's to display and taunt the alpha's with.

Jungkook presses the pads of his fingers over your entrance. Pinky rubbing low until you squirm from a new kind of sensitivity.

“All of them. This one too.”

You squirm, and Jungkook’s fingers continue their small movements, it’s not like he’s fingering you, but his finger ghosts over your hole, then the other. Clean and soft and damp with slick from where your pussy dribbled down, both entrances sensitive and wet and achey.

His purr builds behind you as he feels and feels and feels. Exploring. His voice is warbly and deep from the purr. "I wish I had two pupholes like you do. Girl omegas are so lucky- can take so many knots at once. Knots are so cute and chubby, wanna bite ‘em."

You giggle and he joins you. Two omegas and a singular fever building between you. Neither of you are thinking straight. Neither in omegaspace nor out of it. "I don't think the alphas would appreciate that."

His fingers tread higher, pressing into your clit until you jerk, rubbing up and down it so that your happy scent bleeds higher and higher. Jungkook pinches, and you try to grab his wrist. Gasping and jerking forward.

Jungkook tugs gently, back and forth, just like with your nipples and it's almost like he's trying to milk you there. your socked feet push at the nest but jungkook holds you and you can't get away from it. it's too much. The pleasure pain need of it is so intense you see black spots in your vision.

You're a little panicked, “Koo- koo- can't- please- they’ll be angry.”

“Let them be.”

But after another tug, He lets your clit go and you jerk, resting back against his front. Hiccuping. Jungkook's fingers stay like that between your legs, urging little 'ah ah ah's from your throat. But he doesn't get quite so rough with you again. This time- Jungkook stays soft.

Wetness and the sweetness of slick slowly building and building- not just from you. Jungkook stops teasing you quite so bad and just leaves his fingers at the precipice of entering you. Plugging up the slick and keeping it from dripping out. Resting his fingers just there inside of you, almost like reverse cockwarming. Like he's keeping your hole warm and stretched around his fingers. Ready for the alpha's later.

It's a little maddening. Having him just touch but not move. Have him guard your holes and settle back. There's very little satisfaction in it.

Sweat drips down your temple, Jungkook leans forward to nuzzle it and lap at your cheek.

You're still like that, legs splayed so that Jungkook can play with you and on display When Namjoon and Yoongi round the corner into the nest room.

You jolt at the sudden surprise and try to close your legs, but Jungkook keeps them open with messy fingers. Slick turning your skin glossy when Jungkook holds your thigh open. Yoongi's chest heaves, and he curses low, "Jesus Koo you-" Yoongi actually laughs. Rubbing at his face, cheeks pink.

Namjoon is not amused, eyes going dark. Especially once Jungkook takes his fingers away and lets you gush, just a little. A barely visible trail of slick dripping from one hole to the other as they watch. Yoongi's Addams apple bobs as he swallows.

Namjoon's wearing a dark red mark on his collarbone (probably from Jin given once he caught him) The top of his shoulders crested with faint wetness like he'd unintentionally gotten stuck under the spray of the shower upstairs. But Namjoon looks…steamy. Steaming with anger once Jungkook’s fingers tread lower. He takes your slick and feeds it back up to your fluttering entrance.

It's sort of hot, you clench around Jungkook's fingers and both of them- both Namjoon and Yoongi look, watching. Yoongi covers his mouth, "fuck Jungkook you can't-"

You can feel Jungkook’s grin pressed to the back of your neck, you know what his eyes look like- owlish over the top of your head. Namjoon glares from the doorway, as Jungkook's fingers just barely tread inside and you mewl softly. jungkook spreads his fingers, Holding you open and showing your alpha and your mate how warm and wet you are. Don't they want a taste? Don't they want to feel inside? Jungkook can feel and it’s ////heavenly.

Namjoon's foot depresses the edge of the nest. “Touching what isn’t yours Koo?" Namjoon shakes his head, jaw rolling. "You know better.”

Jungkook does not go easily. Namjoon ends up having to call for backup. Jimin almost slips coming down the stairs. The wooden thud of his ass connected with a step resounding through the house.

Things go from being good to being scary to being good again so fast it gives you whiplash.

Yoongi helps you sit up on your thighs, still too shakey to stand. You don’t need to be held while Jungkook twists and rolls out of Namjoon and Jimin’s hold laughing all the while. The alpha's groan in frustration, unable to get their arms around him for long, unable to subdue him. Both of you watch, Yoongi leans down to kiss your forehead, "You okay?" you shift, uncomfortable. And he produces a wipe from somewhere a hidden stash of clean-up items in the rim of the nest. "Messy there?" he knows you so well. Hands it over rather than clean you himself. Although it's mostly a lost cause.

Jungkook laughs and rolls again while Namjoon curses. Cheek’s pink, scent sweetening while being chased. “Every time” Yoongi informs you, “every time- every heat- Jungkook makes the alpha’s chase him.” His giggle warms your back.

 Jimin tries to get his hands around Jungkook’s wrists but he twists and twists and twists.

You giggle from the nest, at their frustration, at how Jungkook’s clearly enjoying himself. Dodging their hands. But then there’s Tae, there by the door, Crossing her arms and waiting expectantly. All but tapping her slippered foot. Staring down at him completely unimpressed.

It takes them a second to spot her. Jimin does first, straightening up immediately once he spots her glower. Jungkook does not spot her as quickly sliding to the floor with his hands around Namjoon’s waist, grinning, cheeks pink and eyes hazy. Almost pulling his pants down with how tight he grapples with him.

"Jungkook.”

Jungkook looks up, face going pale, shooting to his feet in front of her. Not flinching when she reaches out and pinches his nape. Jungkook lets her and whines through it. “There we go pup, you just needed someone to make you listen huh? Come upstairs. Now.” Jungkook follows, as if in a trance. Unable to tear his eyes away from her. Obediently holding her hand, looking scolded and mildly scared.

Your mate huffs and leans over to scoop you closer, but you squirm. Remembering his promise to let you go outside of the nest once you'd showered.

“Tae is kinda scary when she wants to be.”

“Yeah,” you sigh, staring after her lovingly.

“Do you think you could eat some more breakfast?”

“Maybe.” You say, and Yoongi smiles sweetly. With his arms around you, it's the calmest you've felt, the gentlest you've felt all morning. It's not like omegaspace- although you know you're in it, as you whine against his throat.

Yoongi smiles, “I’ll take that. C’m on.”

You know what awaits Jungkook upstairs, a spanking over the clothes and not under because that would be giving in too much. And any more would surely send Jungkook hurtling straight past pre-heat and into heat.

Jungkook doesn’t understand what the big deal is, it’s going to be a shit show anyways, with three omegas in heat and only 5 packmates to help them through it. It means that no one will be offered a full heat spike of time in between knotting's. Even less because Yoongi doesn’t have a knot (obviously) and probably won’t be able to help as much with Jungkook and Jin like he used to.

Judging from the way you wrap yourself around his back and stubbornly refuse to go anywhere- he’ll be preoccupied during your heat. You stare at Yoongi as he guides you to the kitchen, bumping into the couch and the walls because you don’t want to stop looking. Hobi laughs, coming around you, guiding you away from the lamp. He doesn’t ask what you’re doing out of the nest. He already knows. He’s toting Jin behind him- who looks sleepy and soft and scrubbed raw.

He doesn't talk, probably can't with the strength of his purrs as Hobi sits him down at the kitchen island and starts feeding him. You stubbornly refuse to sit anywhere but Yoongi's lap. A predicament that Yoongi is only too happy to have himself in. Enough that Hobi leans over and teases you with a pinch to your scent gland.

“Huh, maybe you won’t even need us, just want your mate huh?”

“Jinnie and Yoongi and Koo- please Koo,” you parrot, feeling small. Eyes upturned at Yoongi, asking him so nicely for it that he can't help but squeeze around your waist extra tight. You let out a little squeak. As if on cue from upstairs, you hear a loud shout, a tumble, a giggle. Probably the alpha's manhandling Jk into the tub and Jungkook making them work for it.

Yoongi is quite plainly using your squishy-at-the-edges state to ply you with enough fruit to fill your tummy and hopefully tide you over. Getting you to eat over the next few days will be difficult, and he’s trying (and succeeding) to fatten you up in the meantime- just a little.

Most of the food and fruit- the pack's usual rut and heat staples, were prepped yesterday by the others during Yoongi's staring match with the street. The food is mild enough that it won’t bother your stomach.

You are utterly obedient whenever he holds out a piece of food, lips closing around his fingers, chewing and looking up at him, listless almost not blinking. The next time he feeds you- you bite down past the fruit and onto his fingers. Jin has to lean over to pinch your jaw to get you to let go. "Sorry," you say, licking your teeth. Aching and aching and aching. "Didn't mean to just-"

"It's okay." Yoongi just wipes his fingers on a nearby cloth, "You can bite me all you like."

"Can I?" you ask, almost excited for it.

"Of course, I'm yours." You purr, and park for face in Yoongi's throat, and really- it works against him, because now he can't get you to eat anymore, can't until he sighs and starts to pop the buttons on his sleep shirt. "There, happy now?" You suck hickey after hickey onto Yoongi's chest. Echoing each mark for a bit of food.

Hobi leaves because Tae calls for him, not upstairs but from the nesting room, leaving you, Jin, and Yoongi to eat. Eventually, you push at Yoongi's hands, nudging him to the pack omega. Jin eats slowly, eyes on you, pink-cheeked and slow. You're starting to burn a fever and Yoongi and Jin both know it won't go away.

"How will I know when my heat's hitting?" You'd asked earlier, "You'll know" is all Jinnie had said.

When the fruit is maybe half finished you start to hear it- some shouting from the other room. Not Jungkook, not even Hobi who returned upstairs to give Jungkook the remainder of his bath but is coming down now. Jungkook like you- had refused all but one item of clothing at this point. Is only in shorts. Yoongi does not let you scent him as you walk by. Joining the sound of Jimin, Namjoon, and Tae arguing in the other room.

It's a little silly when you see.

They've got the pack's sex toy boxes open in front of them, knots and cocks and dildos all laid out on the edge of the nest, big ones and colorful ones and ones with knotting attachments. The pack doesn't see these things as their replacement but as their best asset in heat.

And yet, they bicker.

"There's just no way- I know you want to do this heat all-natural hyung. But we won't be able to."

"Not unless we take fucking Viagra or something." Tae doesn’t laugh, a clawed hand over her face.

"No way, no one is taking anything. Mini- we can make due."

"My knot is gonna fall off hyung."

"It is not."

"Is too."

"Is not."

They're all overtired, instincts awake and exerted, just the same as you. Yoongi steps through you and Jin to go comfort them at the same moment that Hobi lets go of Jungkook's wrist. The rest of them are inside of the nest room leaving You, Jungkook, and Jin out in the hallway.  

Jungkook widens his stance. Just a little. Powerful thighs tensing.

(At the end of the day, your heat is less of a controlled burn, and more of an explosion)

His dark eyes are wide, tracking the alpha movements, you watch Jungkook watch them. Feeling the sluggish thump of your heartbeat. Out of the corner of your eye, you see Jin mirror him. Feet shoulder with apart, at the ready.

Your heart thuds loud in your ears as you watch the alpha's movements too. All of a sudden, you can't take your eyes off of them. They’re not a threat but not not a threat. You're closest but you still brace yourself.

You physically watch the hair stand up on Namjoon's neck, and the alpha's turn slow. Eyes narrowing. Jin's hand slides from your wrists to your hand, giving you a squeeze before he lets go. Jin's grinning. So is Jungkook- it's a little feral- but it feels it feels-

There is a heat under your skin, burning everywhere your body touches that's not them, like a brand or maybe like a freshly forged string of fate.

it feels Good, it burns but you feel free. Your instincts course through you like adrenaline only worse. You do not feel settled, you feel alive and wild. Strong and powerful. You feel ready. All three of your scents swell sweet, building and building on each other, you sway, a little unsteady. Teetering.

Namjoon's eyes are so wide they could be mini-moons. His chest rippled with a warning growl. "Omega." It's a warning, the lethal purr in Namjoon’s tone says no nonsense will be tolerated.

 Jungkook takes it as a challenge.

For a second, no one moves and no one breathes, but then you're scattering like the rats from Ratatouille. The omegas running and giggling down the hall and the alpha bolting after you, trying to catch you. Legs pumping, moving against the floor.

Yoongi bolts, anticipating your movement the second before you do. He's quicker than all the alphas and he goes for you first. Grabbing you and heaving you up as you giggle and kick your feet the alpha shoots past you.

"No! I've gotta!"

Omegaspace zoomies are so much fun, Yoongi is grinning, lets you down, lets you take another step before he's trying to scoop you up again. A cat playing with a mouse, letting it get a bit farther away before you pounce.

Only you have learned, you did learn from Jungkook earlier, because you twist out of Yoongi's arms.

"Oh no you don't-"

Namjoon lunges for Jin but the pack omega dodges and Namjoon's arms close around nothing. Jungkook is the fastest by far and Jimin's legs pump, almost sliding across the smooth polished floor to get to Jungkook. The omega laughs as he slips out of Jimin's grasp.

You try to follow them but you don't get very far, someone's hands around your wrist that almost tugs you clean off your feet but into a pair of arms. Several pairs of arms, sweet smelling and victorious surround you.

Really, you never had a chance.

There is something in your instinct settled by it, by being chased and restrained. Your alphas can’t have you unless they try- unless they try really really hard to catch you. they won’t be able to take the sweetness between your legs and do something with it unless they earn it.

You get dragged to the floor. Tae's dress feels silky against your shins. Yoongi's hands are rough on your shoulders. Hobi's touch- hard against your thigh. you laugh and try to roll again but this time- you are unable to get away from them.

You look up at them and whimper. Parting your legs in defeat. hot, you feel hot all over.

Yoongi doesn't hesitate, palms you blatantly between your legs. "is this what you needed sweetheart? A little bit of roughness. you're too delicate. too little for things like this. almost makes me think you don't want us to be gentle with you."

you're so hot you feel like you're burning, whimpering out something that sounds suspiciously like "please"

"you need to ask."

you can do little more but chirp in reply. but yoongi wasn't really expecting anything coherent from you at this point.

Jungkook gets the farthest. Almost to the end of the hall before Jimin bares down upon him, pushing him almost to the floor. Jungkook's mouth open in a soundless snarl. Face more animal than human as he paws at Jimin's body. Neither trying to hurt him or pleasure him. Needy and feral.

Jimin tries to turn him over, to get him to present but Jungkook won't. Not until he's in the nest. You should be trying harder to get away. Harder to get out of Yoongi's hands around your waist but you don't, too busy watching.

Namjoon and Jin are similarly wrestling. A little less far into the hall but still farther than you got. The pack omega is belly up, not belly down, making Namjoon work for it to try and twist him around. It's feral and it's a little primal. The way that Namjoon nips at his throat. Jin tries to kick at Namjoon's thigh but Namjoon grabs it and pulls him back by his ankle, Jin's whole body sliding on the floor. 

Tae grabs one of your wrists and Hobi grabs the other, yoongi hooks his fingers into your pussy, one hand around your middle and in a feat of strength that impresses you the small tiny corner of your brain that's lucid- he picks you up off the floor. Heaving you up back towards the nest. Towards safety. yoongi's fingers leave you and you want them back instantly. crying for it.

Jimin throws Jungkook over his shoulder. Namjoon and Jin keep fighting, too evenly matched. Another alpha will have to help him settle the pack omega. Once you’re in the nest, once you’re knotted and docile and fucked so full you can’t move.

You grind back against Yoongi's hips, feeling the hardness there, the cock that's yours yours yours. Almost giddy at the prospect of getting put in your place.

You grin and taste blood.

~-~

Come tell me what you liked about this chapter!

Birthday Pup list

Notes

this is another chapter of mindless fluff- mostly because i just could not edit it in time with the last chapter.

i feel like i need to warn you guys that the next chapter! the heat sex stuff! will not be able to be posted for at least another two weeks because i am going away next weekend to the west coast to help my older sister shop for her wedding dress. i wish i was one of the those people who could write on planes but i can'ttttt i have about 3k already written for it but! it's going to take me a minute and i'm sorry!

i didn't origionally intend for there to be so much body worship in this- but i think given the m/c's internal monolouge early in the series, a bit of tummy worship can't hurt.

m/c, me, and everyone looking at jk: i wanna knock him up.

i think i may have gone a bit far with the jin wanting to brestfeed the m/c thing, but i cant even help it it makes me feel so soft in like a horny sort of way i loveeeee it

i don't know why i love the idea of woumb fucking so much, like listen- i know that it's physically impossible in humans and like- that it's all just a fantasy but i love this fantasy.

there was surprisingly more smut in this chapter than i originally intended.

i am also usually not a fan of booty stuff but??? jk + booty stuff??? yes please give it to me, i love that he just plays the m/c like a fiddle.

maybe the use of 'puphole' is cringey but it's also so cute and lewd i like it. let me know if it squiks you or not.

i think i might...be into pussy torture a little...like when jk pinches her clit and is a little mean thats like- so my thing you know. jk goes so feral.

this chapter is a little less like "there are concrete things that happen" and more just me thinking of things i want to write and putting it in <3

[yearofinstitutionalization]

342/638 One Suga a day while he is away

[yooboobies]

blessed to have you.... ♡

{cr. 0613data}

[raplinenthusiasts]

he's so loved 🥹

@/jung-koook

[kth1]

⁂ 12/100 days of min yoongi | mic drop bangtan bomb

[hoseoksluna]

CENTURY | myg

pairing: boyfriend!idol!yoongi x f. reader 

genre: smut

word count: 3.6k

summary: when yoongi needs inspiration for the song he's been working on, you're not hesitant to help him.

taglist: join | cp: wattpad, ao3

warnings: idol yoongi working in his studio being all stressed out is a warning on its own, he's also immensely hot and calls himself oppa (god help me i am a weak girl), mentions of a nasty punishment, yoongi is kinda mean, and a little bit horny, clit spanking *heart eyes*, oral sex (f. receiving), praise kink—usage of stickers, raw sex.

note: my god, this was a drag at first but because i feel sm better today, i finally finished this and i feel myself returning to the hoseoksluna that i was before i got sick. :( this was fun to write today omg. yoongi is absolutely delicious in this and i can't wait to start writing smoke 3 after this. my babies, enjoy this smutty one shot. i love you. spam my inbox, i miss you! give me a warm welcome, please. MWAH.

Habitually, singing for him was your escapism. You’d close yourself up in a bubble, withdrawing from the surrounding gray world, and you’d slink away to a realm brimming with vivid colors. In his songs, you could be anyone. A figment of his imagination that had more life in its veins than you ever had the taste of. You’d forget, for hours upon hours, about the anguish of your daily life and mental issues that would trouble you and, taking his hand, he would take you to Neverland, watch over you, then take you home. 

This time, however, he didn’t take you to that fantasy land. 

He took you somewhere darker. 

The energy in his lab was potent with something that tickled you ever so gently when you stepped inside. A dusky room with an even heftier, crepuscular layer of vexation. You could feel it thumping beneath your skin after it grazed you with its fingertips, weaseling its way in, settling, stilling. Your boyfriend didn’t turn around when he heard you shut the door, nor when your tights-clad feet paddled on the floor, as absorbed as he was in his work. No shoes inside the Genius Lab—that was the first rule, one you were disciplined enough from him to remember, even if someone woke you up in the middle of the night. 

You paid a great price, once upon a time. 

You had walked in with your Nike’s when he called you over, wet and smeared with the snow from the winter’s artwork outside. Despite the fact you rubbed the soles on the mat in the building of his workplace long before you strutted all the way to his studio, there were still little snowflakes that clung to your sneakers. It was your first time there and Yoongi seemed to have forgotten to let you in on the rules. And once he saw the mess you made, he told you off. 

Kissed you quite roughly. 

Made you promise to never do that again, playfully. 

Sank you to your knees and bent you over those melting snowflakes. Spanked you so hard that he engraved the first rule of the Genius Lab into your system. 

No shoes inside. 

Then, he patted your head. 

Gave you a silver star sticker, resembling the snowflake, for being such a good girl that learns well. 

You had stuck it on the table right beside his laptop, an etched memory that you recollected every time he’d invite you over. 

It’s what he’s mindlessly rubbing with his fingertip as you walk over to him, another winter later, embedding your digits into the ebony night of his hair, the long strands so satiny and sleek. Yoongi gazes up at you from his computer, pale violet flecks adorning the skin beneath his weary, yet ever so trenchant eyes, and you pout at the sight of him. There must be something wrong with the process of his album-making and he’s determined to fix it. 

Yoongi takes off his headphones, wraps an arm around your waist. You’re wearing a little black dress for him with a low neckline that uncovers everything private as he leads you to sit down on his lap, greeting you with a raspy hello and a kiss that tells you he needs you more than his own countenance lets on. 

You linger in the close proximity, peppering his mouth with tiny kisses that make him visibly relax—his shoulders slump against his chair and he lifts your knees, placing them in the snug crook between his side and his arm, his hand spreading forest fire down your calf, stopping at your ankle, swathing it with those flames. 

You cease your kisses, overcome with his body heat, and butterflies zap you in your tummy when he continues to kiss your mouth with those sweet little pecks. 

Prolonging the last kiss, he peers down at you with the world’s most affectionate adoration and you blush. You’ve tasted the dulciness of all the seasons with him, and yet it feels as though you’ve just started dating. His love has long made its home within you, but you can still sense its freshness in your bones. 

It will never get old. 

“I love these, baby,” he husks, his eyes growing more lidded in the heated, cozy atmosphere guarded by the fire of his body, and he drags a hand up and down your leg, spreading his admiration on the nylon of your tights that he speaks of. “You came just at the right time.” 

He nuzzles his face in your neck while he paws at your feet and you soften, brushing your fingers through his hair. You think he needs to get out of this place and breathe in some fresh air for his brain to recuperate and be filled with the flimsy, ivory sparks of inspiration. 

It’s snowing outside. 

It always seems to be when he invites you to his secret spot during the winter months. 

“What’s wrong, hm?” you ask, requiring the specifics in order to help him as much as you can. “What is it this time?” 

Yoongi grumbles nonsense in your neck, the sound muffled and indecipherable, and you laugh, softly, lifting his head. 

“I literally didn’t catch a word you said,” you whine, squishing his cheeks, and Yoongi feignedly sobs, scrunching his eyes shut. You laugh, wiggling his head, encouraging him to tell you what made him darken the energy of his studio so devastatingly. 

He inhales a deep breath in and takes his hand to your bum, fondling it. “I miss your pussy.” 

You burst out into obscene laughter, wiping a hand down his face. “Be fucking serious.” 

Yoongi chuckles, but then breaks into false little sobs all over again. “The melodies aren’t working together, I can’t transform the ideas in my head into this song and I just miss your pussy so bad. I wanna eat it.” 

So that’s the source of that dark energy in the lab. 

He’s horny. 

He wails into your bosom, deepening your laughter that melts into an endearing coo. One that lifts his head and makes a grin blossom on his pale face, a dab of color rushing to the surface. 

A pretty lotus flower, opening for you. 

You poke a finger into his cheek, your heart constricting at the cute way your nail makes a round dent in that flourishing flesh. “I thought you called me over because you wanted my vocals.” 

Yoongi squeezes your bum, sucking in a breath. “I did. I wanted to finish the melodies so I could record your voice, but shit fucking happens. I thought we could write the lyrics together.” 

You bite your lip, finding the idea mesmerizing, and your chest clenches, a certain longing for it forming inside. A light flickers in Yoongi’s abysmal eyes at your reaction—and you wish you could fix this situation for him, remove the block and replace it with a creativity of your own. 

An idea pops into your mind, abruptly. 

You widen your eyes, your smile growing, little by little. Yoongi straightens, his features mirroring yours, and the picture hope paints upon his countenance only drives your idea forward. 

“What?” 

“Oh my god, Yoongi.” You clasp a hand over your mouth. “What if we write the lyrics first and just hum random melodies, see what fits best?” 

He thinks about it, tilting his head. And then destroys the realm that your little idea created. 

“I’m sorry, baby, but that never works with me. I know artists that do that, but whenever I tried, I just reached a dead end,” he mutters and you pout, furrowing your brows. He lets you soak in it for a little while before he shakes his head. “I have a better idea.” 

Yoongi pushes his laptop to the side and lifts you up into his arms as if you weigh nothing, setting you down in place of it. He moves his chair forward. Spreads your legs. Kisses the inner of your thigh and you fall back, your palms landing on the ivory keys of his keyboard and creating a soft music that raises his brows. 

“Do that again.” 

You smile and lift your hand, dropping it on the same notes that you did by accident. He looks over to see which ones you played and he kisses the front of your thigh before he reaches over for his notepad and pen, writing it down. 

“You’re my little angel, I swear,” he says without taking his eyes off of his writing, then he extends an arm behind you and finishes the melody with a certain ease that causes him to relax even more—and your smile to deepen in your face. 

You blush, feeling like that winged creature—assigned to his side to help him. 

“I brainstormed some lyrics the other day,” Yoongi mumbles and begins to stare you down with an intention that coils in your gut, your heart quickening its rhythm. “How about you bounce off of it, make up some lyrics while I eat you out? I can play the melody for you that we just made.” 

Your mouth parts, your throat drying. Warmth pools in your core, the idea of Yoongi playing on the keyboard while he does something so intimate to you bringing you down to an abyss of madness. He hands you his notepad after he flips to the page with the lyrics he mentioned. Your eyes skim over his neat, black handwriting, the random words that could string together a sentence if there was a little work put in it. 

But how are you supposed to focus in those circumstances? It’s not just his dick that makes you braindead—it’s his tongue that does it in the first place. 

“What do you say, baby?” he persists, dipping down and scattering kisses along that sensitive part of your thigh, his breath wafting over your core as he switches to the other one, spoiling it with those same wet kisses. 

You catch a glance of his shining tongue and that does it for you. 

Your heart thumps, violently—and your pussy drools. 

“Fuck, Yoongi.” 

That does it for him, too. 

He goes to rip your tights right in the middle, but you yelp, stopping him. 

“No, don’t rip them. They were expensive and they’re my only pair for the winter.” 

Yoongi gives you a look, cocks his brow. “Why didn’t you say? I could buy you some.” 

You clamp your mouth shut. You don’t like to use his money to buy yourself personal stuff because you have a job of your own and you’re able to take care of yourself, but lately, with prices rising and the rent growing more expensive, there’s little from your paycheck that you could spend on things like these. And you still need to save up for way tougher times. 

“I could never ask you to do that, are you kidding?” 

Yoongi’s gaze darkens. “Who said you couldn’t?” 

You open your mouth to argue with him, but only a yelp comes through when he swiftly tugs the waistband of your tights over your bum and up your legs, lifting them in the process and folding you in half. 

You’re sure he’s ripped them. 

You’re fucked. 

You lean back, landing once again on his keys and at this point he laughs, darkly, telling you which notes to write down and with a shaky hand—you do. 

“You’re getting so many fucking stickers today.” 

Your heart stops its feral beats and you gaze down at him with a tormented look, your brows furrowed, eyes lidded and cheeks flushed. Yoongi bites his lip and gets his sheet of silver little stars. 

He peels one out. “This one's for you coming at the right time.” He sticks it to that one side of your inner thigh that he left unkissed, the sticky part latching to your skin without a hint of a problem. “And this one’s for your smart little brain.”

He sticks it to the bone right across your cunt, smoothing it out with his thumb that then begins to travel and crosses the distance to the soaked center of your panties. Yoongi sucks in a breath as he peers down at the outline of your flesh, parting your thighs a little to gaze up at you through his lashes. “You have two tasks,” he rasps, brushing his lips across your clothed, dampened flesh. 

You grip the table beneath you, letting out a whiny sigh, squeezing your eyes shut. 

“Pay attention.” 

A simple, low order and you pop them open, breathing out in staccatos. He runs that thumb over your clit, puts a little pressure over it. You bite your lip, straining your ears, but the faint pleasure makes it a little bit difficult for you. 

“I’m gonna rub this clit and you don’t get my tongue unless you tell me the name of the store, where you’re getting new pairs of tights from today.” He focuses on your nub, circling it with soft grazes that he knows they get you riled up nice and fast, needy and drenched. It’s what he does when you’re watching a movie together and wind up not knowing how it ends. “And once you come for me, you get another sticker for being such a good girl. Is that clear?” 

Your lungs heave and your mind spins, your brain cells shrinking with your arousal. You lick your lips. Wetness stains your panties even more. “And the other task?” 

He slaps the side of your thigh, making you jump. “I asked you a question, did I not?” 

Such abrupt meanness. Other times, it would get you going, but today it’s not something that you’re really feeling. Maybe it’s due to the fact that you’re ovulating and you need the gentleness that he’s more than capable of giving you. 

You drift a hand down his face, stopping with your thumb at his lips, tracing the upper line. So soft, so puffy. “Be nice to me, Yoongi.” 

His eyes round and a glint perches itself on the top of his chocolate irises. Yoongi sets your feet on both of his armrests. Leans his head against your thigh, looking up at you with a tender half smile. 

“Is that an order?” he asks, flattening his fingers across your clit and strumming it, the pleasure heightening and you sink your teeth into the bottom pillow of your mouth, your body following the wave of the delight he provides you, rolling. 

“Yes. Be nice or no pussy.” 

He gasps, lowly, his smile transforming into that smirk of his that has the tendency to weaken you through and through. “You wouldn’t do that to me.” 

Your heart throbs and you love it. “Yes, I would.” 

You go to close your legs and sit up, but he stops you. “Okay, fair enough.” 

Oh, that solid calmness of his, perfumed with his horniness. You grin, pleased. “Will you be nice?” 

Yoongi licks over the bare skin of your thigh, rubbing his face in it. “I’ll be an angel like you if you do the tasks.” 

You roll your eyes. A quid pro quo. Fair enough. 

“Okay, be an angel to me then and come here,” you purr, aware of the fact that he got you into this mirrored maze of his horniness and you love it, delight in it, which is the sole, unabashed reason why you tug the back of his head down to your cunt, holding him to you. 

Yoongi opens his mouth just at the right time, licking over your clothed clit and moaning. But then he fights against your hold and spanks your pussy, smiling playfully up at you while biting his lip. 

You jump, whimpering. 

“I didn’t hear you say the name of the store,” he retorts, rubbing, properly, your bedewed nub with slow, agonizing circles. 

Fuck. 

Your breathing quickens and you scramble your blank brain to remember any store that has the least expensive tights. You say the name of the first one that pops up. 

Yoongi doesn’t like your answer, though. 

He spanks your clit, gently. 

“Think again. I’m not buying you anything that will last you for a day. Don’t play me.” 

You can’t help the heavy smile rising on your face, your cheeks heating up so much that they ache. And it helps you, his bull-headedness on buying you high-quality garments that are worth the money, to fight—like he did against your hold—your deeply imprinted independence and utter, shyly, with little hiccups, the name of the store that will keep your legs warm throughout the unforgiving Korean wintertime. 

“That’s it, baby. Good girl. Let Oppa take these off now.” 

Your stomach flips at the title. You’ve always been obsessed with it—as it, without fail, provoked your independence and slowly transformed you into the mindset of a little girl, taken care of by someone stronger, smarter and older than her. All while keeping it intact. 

Yoongi knows you can do everything on your own. And he supports it. But it doesn’t mean he’s not willing to give you a hand. 

The same hand he now uses to bring your panties to the waistband of your thighs near the back of your knees, dragging it down that skin. He spreads your cunt with both of his hands, gasping lowly at the sheen that greets him and magnetically pulls him in. 

He kitten licks your clit and your elbows tremble, giving out on you—another melodies wafting through the air that make him chuckle into your pussy, engraving vibrations that encourage you to lean back all the way and take what he gives you. 

“Write that down, can you do that?” he asks, and when he hears you clicking his pen, he tells you which notes those were. You scribble it down, messily, your hand quivering and painting an obscure picture in his notepad as he begins to suck on your clit in intense waves. You shudder, terribly, the lines of his own pen dark, long and disordered like you. 

You give in, moaning so loud that he intones with you. 

And what you never expected—the tones of your noises provide him with an inspiration he cannot miss. Withdrawing with a wet chin and stealing his pen from you, he jots it down, propping the notepad on your thighs, smiling at the picture you painted. 

Writes something else down, too, while you quiver for him, waiting for his tongue. 

He kisses your thigh, ravagedly. “Sing these lyrics.” 

Taking it from him, the words blur on the paper because he sinks a finger inside your heat, curling it to that spot that he favors, fucking you with a fast motion that unables you, completely, to let out a sound colored by his geniality. 

“Come on, baby. Sing for Oppa.” 

You cry out, clenching your muscles—scream as he latches his mouth to your clit, flicking it with the tip of his equally genius tongue. 

The lab spins, not just your mind. 

“I can’t—I can’t. Oh my God, Yoongi, fuck,” you drag out the curse word, the notepad falling out of your hand and plopping onto the ground. 

Yoongi hums, delighted, sucking on your nub so vivaciously that your orgasm nears. As if sensing it, he adds another finger in. Validates the incoming of your splendid explosion by making quick, little, deep sounds that lead you to that peak. 

You grasp his hair, tightly, humping his mouth. From your own spill screams that fade into soft moans, resplendent of the notes he liked so much and he fucks your hole faster. Pulls out his mouth just a little, flicking your clit from side to side—and you realize he did it so he can watch you come for him. 

Come for your Oppa. 

And you do. With a squeak, one that fades to a legato, tender moan of his title. With an eye contact that freezes time for a century. And, suddenly, just like that—it’s just you, him and the winter. 

Snowflakes that ache to seep into yours and his cheeks. 

Yoongi growls. His male pheromones spill out of him like liquid that washes over you and you get a sticker. 

Right in the center of your mound. 

And he fucks you into wintry oblivion, a snowstorm that swaddles you closer and closer to him. The table rattles, key notes sound out, the slapping of skin conjures ideas in the magnificence of his brain. And then he comes. 

With a final stroke and a rope of his cum all over the sticker near your pleasured cunt, he resumes the time. 

But both you and him are newly constituted by that winter-kissed century, chiseled by it and irrevocably changed by it. 

Yoongi cleans you up and dresses you. You find out he didn’t rip your tights and you give him such a soft, endeared look for it that he coos, chuckling, and pats your disheveled hair, smoothing it down. He kisses you once he fixes you up and, grabbing his keys, phone and wallet, he drives you to the mall, to that exact store you mentioned, to buy you a myriad of tights to last you for a half of a century, grazed and fondled by winter. 

And he leads you back to the studio, besprinkled with the snow’s affection, where you watch him create a song out of your pleasured voice, sampling one of your favorite oldie’s tunes that you end up yanking him up to his feet to dance with him to it. The raspy voice of Ray Charles envelops Yoongi’s hands as he guides your hips and he kisses you until the late night hours. 

And in those late night hours, he watches you, like the angel you are, as you sing the poetry he wrote with your help. 

Neverland doesn’t exist anymore. Not for you at least. 

The darker place he took you to is one breathing with the gesture of helping your lover. Warm, moody and timbered. The licks of flames and the earnestness of a love that depends, without fear, on the other person. 

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖࣪ divider by kthice ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖࣪

𓂃 ౨ৎ LOVE-KISSED BABIES: @tkslovechild, @jjk7k, @parkinglot-nights, @bethvar, @Sexytholland, @yoongibaybee, @crystaleah,@fennecnco, @lil-kpopstan, @euphoricmyth, @jungkoock, @cinmmongirl, @hobiberrystuff, @kam9404.

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