#myg:fluff

[luaspersona]

this fic was one of the best surprises i've had on this site and i can't possibly stress enough how in love with it i am.

this review comes in the fifth (maybe seventh?) time i'm reading this and i can't get enough 😭 this is so good, so charming, so fucking perfect that i need to point a bunch of this out, so bear with me 🫡

the story starts with the best use of synesthesia i've read in years. the way the reader describes yoongi's voice, and how it becomes a vessel for the attraction she feels despite the fact she's never seen him before.

the idea of rawness in his voice, of yoongi expressing himself through his cadence, his tone, his breathing… god, that's so enticing 😩 i mean, look at this paragraph 🚨

But regardless of being cut short, the metallic nature of his voice still managed to worm its way directly into your chest, where it festered into something so captivating that you couldn’t help but sigh. It was cool to the touch as the syllables of his chosen words sent an intrusion of goosebumps along your arms and thighs. It had a certain gravel, a deepness that you could sometimes feel in the pit of your belly if you listened to him long enough with your eyes closed. However, more times than not, the grit would be severed with a vibrant laugh that rang so sweetly that you could feel it clamoring around your heart with giddiness on its heels.

again: so 👏🏽 fucking 👏🏽 synesthesic 👏🏽

the wording, the sentencing, everything just adds up to the sensations yoongi's voice provoke — and god, if we don't know the effect his voice has 😮‍💨

but i think that the most charming aspect of the fic has to be the dialogues. they're so ridiculously smooth, so natural! and they flash out the character with such easy, it almost seems like an actual conversation transcribed. like, hobi and yoongi bickering during the podcast, their light teasing and easy back and forth: it's all so palpable and i was smiling all throughout that part (i was mostly crying in the ones after, but we'll get there), like:

“Well I am fratty, but not the douche kind.” “Debatable, but admittedly sometimes I do forget that you’re part of Delta Delta Dickhead.” “Fuck you.” “That’s next week’s topic, sorry for the wait.”

and the whole KJ Apa tangent too omg.

and ugh, hobi's so fucking unserious, i couldn't DEAL with him, i was wheezing 😭:

“You cried for hours over that fucking sports anime, Ace of some shit. I had to buy you like three pizzas just to calm your ass down – which you never Venmo'd me back for… just sayin'.”

but also:

“Oh my god, wow I'm getting so hard just thinkin about those flexible paper rectangles. Mhm, oh yeah.”

or even:

“—College sex life! That’s right, my friends, we’re gonna get all down in that bow chicka wow wow nitty gritty—”

gdi, why can't mixtape be a real thing 😠 not to mention this story had such strong early 2000's romcom vibes (without all the problematic and misogynistic shit ofc).

(quick sidenote before continuing: i first thought i misread yoongi's pseudo in the show, but when the café scene happened omg lmao is was so gooood 😩)

i also want to talk about the tone of the story, because the control you have over the atmosphere and the overall feel of the scenes is p-e-r-f-e-c-t 😭 i was drawn into their interactions and their banter so easily, because it's so damn captivating: everything feels tangible.

and god!! your yoongi 🗣

soooooooo hot, so sexy ugh, the ✨things✨ he says to reader while always making sure of her consent and being mindful of her comfort — as if my standard for men can afford to get bigger??

and 👏🏽 when 👏🏽 they 👏🏽 meet

god, this pairing was written with such nice and natural chemistry. i loved their dialogues and how smoothly their interaction turns flirty, and even if they get super into each other after a couple of days together, it doesn't feel rushed at all because you make us feel their chemistry right off the bat! god, i wish i knew more adjectives to praise you like you deserve 😠

and like, even the way yoongi makes the proposition! how they lock eyes and the stare turns into mutual understanding and then to tension. not to mention the way he asks to eat her out in the most respectful way, like??

but it's the constant reassuring that gets me tho, like:

“Not at all,” He replied, confidence dripping past his lips. “Just you, honestly. You’re someone that looks like they need help focusing, who happens to have an unopened pack of flashcards that they seemed to have purchased for a certain reason. But please tell me if I’m wrong or if you’re just not interested. If that’s the case, then I’ll be happy to help you study in whatever… mundane way that you want. I’ll even spot you a coffee.”

and even after her initial consent, he never assumes she's comfortable: he asks for her confirmation, and even waits for her to relax before touching her like🚨🚨🚨 (the sirens are me screaming).

and as if all that wasn't enough there's the teasing too😭 yoongi's so fucking hot here, like—

Your brows furrowed in confusion, but admittedly it piqued your interest. “Practice round? Don’t exactly think you’re brave enough to lay me out on this table and just go for it in the middle of the library.” “Wanna see if that’s true?” He asked, a certain fire flaring across his eyes. It sent a swirl of arousal through your lower stomach, but you quickly pulled it back in.

YES I WANNA

ahem

*clears throat*

and the fact that he knows how fucking sexy he is, god, his cockiness was so gooood:

“Ah, glad my intellect hasn’t been overshadowed by the things you’re picturing my mouth and hands doing to you right now.” You bit at your lip to try and stifle the grin that threatened to split across your face, and Yoongi seemed highly amused with your failed attempt.

but he can be so cute and sweet too:

“But c’mon, time for you to learn what’s in that pretty head of yours.”

and the same goes for reader! she's so relatable, suffering that pied piper syndrome not being able to study because of min yoongi 😔 oh bestie i feel you. but she's also super funny and sexy 😩

“How about how fast you can make me cum?”

it made me scREAM, like, when she actually started to feel herself and got comfortable with the situation i was gone

and 👏🏽 the 👏🏽 smut

the teasing, the edging, the begging — but also the learning! and the studying! that's what this was all about folks 🥹 no but, for real, i really liked every single aspect of this story, from the tone, to the wording, to the humor, to the teasing, the dialogues and the smut. the pairing was unbelievably sweet and i was so into them.

thank you for taking your time writing this, author! it made me so happy and your words brought me peace at some weird, difficult times, so i really appreciate it 🥺💐

mixtape (m)

pairing: min yoongi x reader 

genre: smut, fluff, comedy / college, podcast personality au

word count: 15,610

description: Two mystery students from your college run the podcast dubbed ‘mixtape.’ It’s become a sort of phenomenon around campus, listened to by almost everyone. In their most recent episode they discussed various study methods… One of them being oh so tempting.

“This week’s topic is—” Sugar started, of course only to be swiftly interrupted by the second half of the two-man show podcast that had sort of gone viral around your college campus.

But regardless of being cut short, the metallic nature of his voice still managed to worm its way directly into your chest, where it festered into something so captivating that you couldn’t help but sigh. It was cool to the touch as the syllables of his chosen words sent an intrusion of goosebumps along your arms and thighs. It had a certain gravel, a deepness that you could sometimes feel in the pit of your belly if you listened to him long enough with your eyes closed. However, more times than not, the grit would be severed with a vibrant laugh that rang so sweetly that you could feel it clamoring around your heart with giddiness on its heels.

“—Studying! So sexy, right?” Jay interjected mid-sentence, something that anyone who listened to their weekly episodes would quickly learn is a norm.

However, there were times of course where Sugar was allowed the courtesy of going off on long tangents without his friend’s interruption, and in those moments his voice was hypnotic, if you had to put it simply. It tugged you beneath the current of concentration until you were pressing the volume button on your phone to raise his vocals higher. The small hitch of his breath, or exhale against the mic when he would sigh due to the topic at hand, they made you lean in closer to the invisible man on the other side of the pre-recorded audio that filtered through your headphones.

Keep reading

[bts-ficrecs]

White Lie

pairing: Hoseok x Yoongi

written by: hopespiration (AO3)

chapters: 20/20

word count: >100k

genre: fluff, angst

summary:

On the cold Friday night, in a world where the first object one’s soulmate touches would bloom into a flower, a daffodil had bloomed out of a police officer’s chest from the bullet shot by a mafia.

On that cold Friday night, Min Yoongi had shot his soulmate.

(or that AU where the first thing of yours that your soulmate touches would bloom into your birth flower. The youngest son of the city's notorious mafia gang Min Yoongi found his the night he shot police officer Jung Hoseok, a flower blooming from his heart)

mai cries:

yaaalllll. idk why it took me so long to finally make a post about this series. yaallll. this series was so good :”(((( you know im a sucker for soulmate aus and fake dating aus. dsjfkaha my mxm reading list is so smol and i am ssooo happy to add this to my list. oh mygosh you guys i went thruuu it reading this! both yoongi and hobi are so precious and i love them so much.

and i love that this series explored that good and evil rly isn’t black and white as some people like to make it out to be. i love hobi’s dynamics with maknae line. i love that yoongi somehow becomes a part of hobi’s life and in effect, becomes intertwined in maknae line’s lives too. it made me so sad to see the comfort of their lives shattered and then hobi blaming it all on himself. oh baby:(((( but also i’m just rly happy maknae line were able to work through it together. cause i know they love each other so much. 

it wasn’t easy for them to fall for each other. and even when they did, it was hard to admit it. :( that made me so sad. knowing that they were beginning to love each other but not believing it was real.

ohhh gosh yall. the ending hurt me so much. when they finally found hobi. when they parted. when they finally reunited. and started over :(((( i loved this series so much yall. pls give it a chance.

[bts-ficrecs]

Amortencia

pairing: Jimin x Yoongi

written by: Tosun (AO3)

word count: :5455

genre: fluff, smut, Hogwarts!AU

summary:  Jimin didn't think his love potion would actually work.

[luaspersona]

i think one of our greatest struggles as fic writers is dealing with predictability. even sadfics are tagged as such (with very few exceptions), and we usually lay out the prompt and the tropes in the warnings as good practice. upon starting this story, from the very request, we know that reader is 1. a runaway bride 2. yoongi and reader are ending up together, which basically sums up the 3.3k words. but it's precisely because of its predictability — in this sense that, most often than not, we already know the beats of the story and are able to anticipate major events ("a very unfortunate namjoon") — that fanfiction, to be, is the best way to find genuinely talented writers. i'm not reading your story to find out if reader and yoongi are ending up together, but to delve into your words and be someone else for a minute or so. i'm reading your story to be able to evoke reactions within myself. literature is not really about what, but about how, and i think your drabbles, especially because you often receive given prompts that are very predictable on their own, are a prime example of how much power a word choice, an exposition creatively thought out, a precise dialogue and an amazing imagery development can make a cliche sound fresh.

so — after that long af intro — i want to talk about some of those "how"s 🥹

To be clear, he’d never wanted to attend this rehearsal dinner in the first place. Unfortunately, he knew the stakes. That wasn’t something he’d dare to say out loud — especially not to you. Not in that restaurant while you fluttered between tables and shined your warm light on every single guest, one by one. Not ever, because you’d slipped through Yoongi’s fingers the second Namjoon slid that ring on yours. 

this paragraph reveals a depressing hopelessness. the feeling of not being able to do anything, but wanting to do everything — seeing someone that you love happy and not wanting to burst that bubble when you couldn't be more miserable yourself 😩 so fucking well written and such a marvelous way to establish what's going on and the conflict inside the character.

but omg the last sentence is SO good, idek. i think you always find such clever ways to convey complex things and it never ceases to amaze me. the idea of reader slipping through his fingers — of him losing his grasp on the possibility of "them" — looms over him as fate, as he says in the next paragraph:

If, in twelve hours’ time, Yoongi could force his deflated body out of bed, he’d have to watch quietly while you got away for good.

and he just has to sit politely and smiley while passively watching his doom unfold, as he says, and that's such an interesting scenario you put us in.

i also love the way you suggest reader's feelings here:

His eyes never lingered on the bottle, sticking instead to you and the smile that didn’t seem to spread beyond the curve of your lips. Every now and then, you’d glance his way — and every time you did, there was a microscopic twinge at the corner of your mouth. 

an empty smile, a cracking facade that only yoongi seems to be able to spot.

and here (i didn't plan on doing a close reading analysis but! 😩 this is just too good not to):

It felt like a signal, something cryptic, but he wasn’t in the proper headspace to begin making assumptions. For the first time ever, you’d hit Yoongi with a look he didn’t know what to do with, and that fact drove him insane. This was what he was afraid of, after all — that the invisible string between you would be re-routed to someone else, and the telepathic link you’d always shared would disappear with it.

the way yoongi is terrified of losing a connection by spotting something only he could, but not being able to decipher its meaning. i LOVE this cus he can read into the reader's every emotion, but can phantom the possibility of reciprocity — that's the only reality he doesn't dare entertain, so he rejects it all together.

ok, now this:

Back then, both of your front teeth were missing and — if Yoongi made you laugh too hard at routine, weekend gatherings — banana milk would occasionally fly out through the gap. He was nine-years-old and had no concept of it, but now he knows that he loved you then. He loved you when you were ten, and you kneed a classmate in the dick for bullying Yoongi on the basketball court. You were two years younger and half his size, but you were a force to be reckoned with. He loved you when you were fourteen, and a wave of brand new hormones made you a little bit of a fucking nightmare to be around. At seventeen, twenty-one, still.

this sequence is one very dear to me cus it sums up one of your greatests talents (that i feel like i've mentioned a couple hundred times by now) which is control of exposition. contextualizing backstory is terrifying because summary tends to be boring or too clinical — a procedure you have to endure before reaching the fun parts. but exposition can be just as good if done correctly, and you're SO good at it. the sweet way you convey: passage of time, reader's personality, yoongi's gradual realization throughout the years and just how deep-rooted their bond is without explicitly saying any of it is just so amazing and enveloping, driving us deeper into their world and affection, i can't DEAL with it 😩🔪

as for this one:

Yoongi had done well enough with your previous relationships. None of them made him feel like this, though, and he’d spent two years unable to put his finger on why. Sandwiched at that carefully chosen table between his mother and older brother, it finally clicked: None of them ever threatened to last.

i think the word choice is just perfect. "none of them ever threatened to last", i mean... god, idk it might seem silly for me to point out those things, but it enhanced my experience tenfold, and i want you to know that the time you spent crafting this didn't go unnoticed and it was worth it. these sentences are the ones that, whenever im reading, i have to stop for a second to collect the breath that you just punched out of me.

this:

The clock seemed to mock him, ticking faster from behind him as if time was going to outrun him again.

was another super interesting choice! the personification of time in reader's character's steps is so creative. the way he feels trapped and everything around him just reminds him of his missed opportunity, of his waste of time. and the idea the the reader is a personification of it — as in, every time he sees them, he can't think of anything but what he lost due to his waste of time — is 🤌🏽

also, this:

You grinned and it made up for all the stars that had been hidden by grey clouds overhead.

feels like something that should be in boy with luv

another thing i wanted to mention was the weight of the confession. while for readers it’s the most awaited event in a story, for writers it’s the most intimidating. it’s a scary moment that demands a lot of thinking, i feel, because we have to be just to the characters we created, to the expectations and predict reactions and aftermaths, so i always love to see how writers come up with solutions to the problems evoked by the premise.

so when you decide to do it without dialogues, just through yoongi’s eyes:

Yoongi didn’t mean to say it. He knew it before, during, and after it slipped out of his mouth that it was the worst goddamn thing he’d ever done, but he couldn’t stop himself — couldn’t shove the bullet he’d shot back into the gun. With the way it exploded through his chest — I love you — he was surprised that his body was still intact. No viscera sprayed out from the exit wound, no stains appeared on your chic, white cocktail dress.

it felt so different. it felt like a moment of dissociation, of when you feel unaware of your own actions and choices — inevitable just like fate. something that had to happen, something that couldn’t be held back anymore. it’s just so visceral, and the harsher word choice enhances this feeling (like in the highlighted parts) of a confession that’s almost violent, physically painful to yoongi — so much so that he’s surprised it didn’t stain the reader (that’s such a beautifully sad image, i’m obsessed with it).

You opened your mouth but closed it soon after, so clearly stunned by his unsolicited admission that you couldn’t find the words. Yoongi had no expectations whatsoever when it came down to your reaction because he hadn’t meant to provoke one in the first place. Even still, the wounded look on your face was worse than anything he might’ve imagined.

their reaction, somehow, feels like the shock of violence — a shattering of something. and i just love the way you phrased his disappointment because even if he never really planned on confession, he still had hope, regardless of how suffocated by doubt. 

and like, yeah, i knew from the very beginning that they are ending up together — or at least expect so. but here?:

“That’s not fair,” eventually came your shaky reply. You clenched your fist tight around the top of the gate to anchor yourself and stammered,  “Yoongi, that is not —  Why would you —” As soon as he aimed to take a step in your direction, your shock gave way to a scowl that could’ve boiled him alive. “Why would you dump that at my feet? Tonight, of all fucking nights, Yoongi — seriously?” You snapped, though it sounded like a sob.  “What am I supposed to do with this now?”

god, it felt heartbreaking. reader’s clear frustration, yoongi’s turmoil and regret and just the overwhelming and heart clenching way his confession hits them (again, almost violently) and they hit right back, as if trying to protect themselves from the blow. 

also, i don’t know why but i also love the idea of reader not predicting to cry at their own wedding:

He hated every single one of those muddied, black tears because he knew you. He knew you would have worn waterproof mascara if you’d had any reason to anticipate crying on your special night.

crying at your “big day” sounds like something more than reasonable and expected even, but all they gave was empty smiles, seeking eyes and the certainty of no genuine emotional response.

when we switch to reader’s pov, i really loved the way you decided to describe doubt and regret, as a kind of heartburn you can’t solve with encyclopedias, only with words.

In reality, there was no waking up because there hadn’t been a single second of sleep to begin with. No beauty rest, no sweet dreams of marital bliss — just you, feeling as if you’d swallowed a car battery. It sat heavy in the pit of your stomach, let acid burn all the way up to your esophagus. And it’d been all too easy to toss and turn in your hotel bed, which laid perfectly level on top of a plush, floral rug.

it just sucks us right into their mind and makes us feel with them.

when i read it for the first time, this was a sentence that took me a while to get through:

Swallowing hard, you headed for the adjoining door and promised yourself that the only person you’d let down today would be you.

the weight of a decision that has already mobilized so many people, and knowing that — after all the promises and wasted time — choosing yourself opens far more wounds than it mends. so is it worth it? to choose false perfection over honesty? well, no lmao. but i found it interesting that you don’t free the reader from those responsibilities. you make us follow her steps as they slowly make a decision that will hurt someone who feels nothing but love for them and that person being namjoon of all people feels like a sin. if it was a random oc we wouldn’t mind, but omg 😭 all this time namjoon watching out for hobi when yoongi was the one simping after his partner. 

and aaaaaaa got nothing smart to say on this:

It’d been terrifying, staring your own heart in the face like that. More than anything, it was confusing because it didn’t look like you expected it would — not like an organ at all, but a person. You’d gotten so good at ignoring it that you couldn’t reasonably expect yourself to recognize it. It knew you, though, and loved you. Apparently, it always had.

rather than oh my GOD what a beautiful way to describe him and their love for him 😭 — he as their heart??? jade babe, you trying to kill me or something??

i loved here too:

The bright scarlet chima followed without so much as a word from you. Your heart slammed helplessly against your rib cage when your mother proceeded to tug the sleeves of your jeogori up your arms. 

it feels like reader’s about to have an anxiety attack — their life slipping through her fingers as they are trapped around their fate! such good imagery 😭😭😭

(also, reader placing hello kitty sticker in a pack of cigarettes is the most endearing and ineffective way to make someone quit smoking lmao i just thought it was the CUTEST fucking thing)

very much like the confession, the getting-together is another major event, and here:

You’d outrun his train of thought in your scuffed, old Vans. Yoongi had to buffer for a moment in order to catch up, but the involuntary smile fighting its way over his mouth didn’t bother to wait.  Eventually, he recited your long-suffering appeal, smirking all the while, “They’ll fuck me up, and I’ll have to be wheeled out onto the basketball court in an iron lung.”

their conversation is so chronic, so simple — not as deep shit, but as a “returning home”, and i don’t know if i can describe or elaborate it better than that. it feels right, it clicks, and his body knows before himself. 

It came out much more easily the second time than the first; and when it did, it felt more like a beginning than a bomb.

i liked it because there’s no need for reader to say it back — he knows. knows why they are there and finally can recognize their expression for what it is: reciprocity. it’s not violent, is embracing.

ugh, i just love your stories jade, and you KNOW it. i’ve missed you and i’ve missed your creativity. i’m in a literary analysis mode because i’ve been working nonstop with it these last weeks so if this review feels kinda abstracted and messy well… that’s why. but thank you for this AMAZINGLY SWEET fic, thank you for the angst and the immediate comfort, and thank you for sharing 🩷 hopefully my next review wont take forever lol, sorry.

Yoongi + “runaway bride” I’mma leave this one up to your interpretation bc I know I’ll love it either way and also wanna see what you come up with 👀

oooooooh!!! v excited by this prompt, lol. this is, um, going to hurt kind of a lot at the beginning, but stick with me!!!! also, i accidentally made this >3.3k words….. which i will proofread when i am no longer exhausted 🤪

the one with yoongi and the fucking hydrangeas

ft. POV shift, pining & correlating angst, reader who’s🎵 a runner she’s a track star 🎵, a #nonspon vans product placement, a very unfortunate namjoon (sorry, buddy,) childhood idiots in love

Yoongi sat in a seat chosen specifically for him not because he wanted to, but because he knew how much time you’d sacrificed in writing every place card by hand.

To be clear, he’d never wanted to attend this rehearsal dinner in the first place. Unfortunately, he knew the stakes. That wasn’t something he’d dare to say out loud — especially not to you. Not in that restaurant while you fluttered between tables and shined your warm light on every single guest, one by one. Not ever, because you’d slipped through Yoongi’s fingers the second Namjoon slid that ring on yours.

If, in twelve hours’ time, Yoongi could force his deflated body out of bed, he’d have to watch quietly while you got away for good.

There was nothing he could do about it, either, so he swallowed that grief with a mouthful of bibim nengmyun. He knew it wasn’t the food that tasted so bitter on his tongue; however, on the off-chance that it was, he followed suit with another ill-advised swig of makgeolli.

During the two subsequent hours he sat and stewed at that table, Yoongi had lost count of just how many glasses he’d had. His eyes never lingered on the bottle, sticking instead to you and the smile that didn’t seem to spread beyond the curve of your lips. Every now and then, you’d glance his way — and every time you did, there was a microscopic twinge at the corner of your mouth.

It felt like a signal, something cryptic, but he wasn’t in the proper headspace to begin making assumptions. For the first time ever, you’d hit Yoongi with a look he didn’t know what to do with, and that fact drove him insane. This was what he was afraid of, after all — that the invisible string between you would be re-routed to someone else, and the telepathic link you’d always shared would disappear with it.

Your friendship had started early because your respective mothers had grown up together, and found each other once again as adults with two kids each. Back then, both of your front teeth were missing and — if Yoongi made you laugh too hard at routine, weekend gatherings — banana milk would occasionally fly out through the gap. He was nine-years-old and had no concept of it, but now he knows that he loved you then.

He loved you when you were ten, and you kneed a classmate in the dick for bullying Yoongi on the basketball court. You were two years younger and half his size, but you were a force to be reckoned with.

He loved you when you were fourteen, and a wave of brand new hormones made you a little bit of a fucking nightmare to be around.

At seventeen, twenty-one, still.

Now.

There, while everyone around him clinked their chopsticks against their glasses and Namjoon accepted the crowd’s wordless demand that he kiss you.

Yoongi had done well enough with your previous relationships. None of them made him feel like this, though, and he’d spent two years unable to put his finger on why. Sandwiched at that carefully chosen table between his mother and older brother, it finally clicked: None of them ever threatened to last.

Yoongi had never been a particularly hopeful person, but buried deep in the back of his brain, there had always been a crumb of it. Part of him, however stupid, thought you’d end up together at a dinner like this. All of this was the last nail in the coffin, the alarm clock screaming that it was time to wake up.

Suddenly more nauseous than he’d ever been before, Yoongi scooted his chair back so abruptly that it scraped along the floorboards. Just as quickly, he got to his feet and made a beeline for the exit. Of all the heads that turned to watch him leave, yours was the only one he noticed in his peripheral vision. He could feel your eyes on his back — pictured how confused you must look — and it only made his stomach acid churn faster.

When he finally made it out to the patio behind the restaurant, Yoongi’s suspicions were confirmed: closed for the season. Fitting. He wasn’t in the mood to heed the signs, so he stepped carefully — one leg at a time — over the hip-high metal gate and gulped down sharp, late autumn air. As he did, he begged himself to get his shit together for you, if not for him.

He spent several minutes out there, maybe even hours, sitting on a bare, metal chair and glowering out at the trees at the edge of the property. He hated himself, he realized, for how easily he wasted time. Let it slip by unnoticed while he stood still.

The clock seemed to mock him, ticking faster from behind him as if time was going to outrun him again.

At least, that was his first guess.

Yoongi quickly learned that the clicks weren’t signaling the passing seconds; they were broadcasting the urgent beat of stilettos on brick. So, having figured that his mother had appeared outside to gun him down, Yoongi glanced over his shoulder and braced himself for the be-all, end-all of scoldings.

What he got instead was you and the undeserved concern that caused your eyebrows to furrow.

“Are you okay?” You asked quietly once you reached the gate. With your manicured hands on the cold metal, you shivered, but you didn’t seem to notice. “Did you eat too much of the gochujang? I definitely did, and now I’ll be up all night with heartburn.”

Yoongi felt as though he’d been punched in the chest. The memory caught him in a riptide, beat him bloody against the rocks because he could’ve sworn he was sixteen again, stacking old encyclopedias under the headboard of your bed. He’d read somewhere online that, while sitting upright in a chair can exacerbate reflux, sleeping at an angle could help.

He was dizzy when he blinked back at you and saw your lips moving. He had to focus hard to figure out what you were saying.

“You remember that?”

Yoongi struggled to even out his breathing; he had no hope at all of finding the plot he’d lost. “Huh?”

You grinned and it made up for all the stars that had been hidden by grey clouds overhead. “The encyclopedias,” you chuckled, “They worked, you know.”

Yoongi didn’t mean to say it. He knew it before, during, and after it slipped out of his mouth that it was the worst goddamn thing he’d ever done, but he couldn’t stop himself — couldn’t shove the bullet he’d shot back into the gun. With the way it exploded through his chest — I love you — he was surprised that his body was still intact. No viscera sprayed out from the exit wound, no stains appeared on your chic, white cocktail dress.

You opened your mouth but closed it soon after, so clearly stunned by his unsolicited admission that you couldn’t find the words. Yoongi had no expectations whatsoever when it came down to your reaction because he hadn’t meant to provoke one in the first place. Even still, the wounded look on your face was worse than anything he might’ve imagined.

The two of you stood in tense silence for so long that Yoongi’s soul had nearly ejected itself fully from his body.

“That’s not fair,” eventually came your shaky reply. You clenched your fist tight around the top of the gate to anchor yourself and stammered, “Yoongi, that is not — Why would you —”

As soon as he aimed to take a step in your direction, your shock gave way to a scowl that could’ve boiled him alive.

“Why would you dump that at my feet? Tonight, of all fucking nights, Yoongi — seriously?” You snapped, though it sounded like a sob. “What am I supposed to do with this now?”

Now?

He didn’t know how to respond. He was paralyzed, inside and out, and he deserved it. Who the fuck was he, forcing the burden of his feelings onto you?

Selfish. Stupid. Out of time, as usual.

The makeup you always took so much time on started to run alongside your tears. Yoongi had seen you cry before, though he’d always been the reason you stopped, rather than started. He hated every single one of those muddied, black tears because he knew you. He knew you would have worn waterproof mascara if you’d had any reason to anticipate crying on your special night.

“I’m getting married in the morning!”

Your reminder was a dagger flying out of your mouth, sticking him right between the ribs. It stung as images flooded his mind — of you and Namjoon, your guests, and your out-of-season, imported fucking hydrangeas. It hurt even worse to see how badly you shook as you glared at him.

“Yoongi — fuck!”

Before you walked away, your eyes locked on his for a fraction of a second. In that moment, Yoongi promised himself that it was the last time you’d ever have to see his face.

When you were little, you pictured your wedding day like a moment ripped straight out of Cinderella. In your head, you’d wake up to birds singing at your window and mice scurrying around your feet, eager to dress you in a gown of epic and magical proportions. It’d be perfect. For years, you’d been sure of it.

In reality, there was no waking up because there hadn’t been a single second of sleep to begin with. No beauty rest, no sweet dreams of marital bliss — just you, feeling as if you’d swallowed a car battery. It sat heavy in the pit of your stomach, let acid burn all the way up to your esophagus. And it’d been all too easy to toss and turn in your hotel bed, which laid perfectly level on top of a plush, floral rug.

You crawled out of bed without the assistance of altruistic rodents and shuffled your dead weight over to the mirror hanging on the opposite wall. For once, your imagination had been accurate. Your puffy eyes were red in the aftermath of all your tears. They ached above circles so deep and dark that they would’ve alarmed you if you hadn’t expected them.

Namjoon had seen you at what you both believed to be your worst. Neither of you could’ve ever predicted that the Corpse Bride would be the one staggering down the aisle towards him. He’d love you anyway, you knew it, no matter how you looked. But if he knew what you spent all night toiling over…

You shook your head and abruptly turned away from the mirror. There were several of your dearest friends bustling around the room next to yours, all of whom were waiting on you. Swallowing hard, you headed for the adjoining door and promised yourself that the only person you’d let down today would be you.

You lost all track of time when a blur of hands went to work on you. If you’d closed your eyes while you dissociated, you could’ve pretended that your assistants were those woodland creatures you used to dream about. But you couldn’t close your eyes, couldn’t sleep through this part, couldn’t let your mind wander all the way back to that patio.

It’d been terrifying, staring your own heart in the face like that. More than anything, it was confusing because it didn’t look like you expected it would — not like an organ at all, but a person. You’d gotten so good at ignoring it that you couldn’t reasonably expect yourself to recognize it. It knew you, though, and loved you. Apparently, it always had.

As you sat in that hotel room, far away from the patio, you pictured every other moment you wished Yoongi had said what he did. The thousand times you’d thought for sure he felt the same, and all the ways you distracted yourself when you resigned to believing he didn’t. Every person you dated until you finally managed to move on —

“— please, love?”

You blinked rapidly to force your eyes to focus. In front of you, your mother stood with a knowing smile on her face and a sokchima in her hands. You didn’t need to ask her to repeat herself; you took the hint and rose slowly to your feet.

“I was nervous on my wedding day,” she hummed as she pulled the undergarment gently over your head. “Hungover, too, but your grandmother does not need to know that. Frankly, I’m surprised she couldn’t tell with how bloated I was when she helped me get ready…”

The bright scarlet chima followed without so much as a word from you. Your heart slammed helplessly against your rib cage when your mother proceeded to tug the sleeves of your jeogori up your arms. This moment should be special, you thought bitterly. All you wanted to do was cry; to apologize to your mother for your total inability to care while your wedding happened around you, not for you.

Soon enough, you were dressed. Your friends and older sister gushed about how beautiful you looked — the perfect bride — like you weren’t caught in the web of an anxiety attack. Like it wasn’t all wrong, and you weren’t dangling on the precipice of your life’s greatest mistake. Like you hadn’t spent so much of your hard-earned money on invitations and greenhouse-grown, special-ordered fucking hydrangeas.

Like you could catch a fucking breath under all the layers of your hanbok.

Sensing that a moment alone was necessary, your mother kissed your cheek and ushered the others out the door ahead of her. Before seeing herself out, too, she stalled in the threshold, turned back around to look at you, and exhaled through a pause.

“I left your shoes by the dresser,” she chirped.

The gentleness of her tone was reassuring, but there was a faint gleam in her eyes that caught your attention. Before you could ask after it, she nodded firmly once and let the door click shut behind her.

Alone again, your instinct was to do the same thing you’d spent ten consecutive hours doing — burying yourself under pillows and crying until you ran out of tears. But you had run out, which was precisely was the problem. You had no options left, nothing left to do but lean in.

At least, that was your first guess.

Your list of choices expanded by one when you saw the well-worn pair of slip-on Vans your mother had set out for you.

Yoongi sat on the edge of his bed with his elbows on his knees and his face buried in his hands.

Only two meters away, a garment bag hung from the hook on the back of his bedroom door. That bag — and the crisp, black suit it concealed — lingered there for weeks in the shadows, untouched since the day he bought it. Even though it hadn’t left its hanger, he felt it smothering him throughout the night. It choked him while one thought ran circles in his sleep-deprived brain:

The reason he bought it was the same reason he’d never be able to wear it.

Sick of the way he’d trapped himself with his thoughts, Yoongi pushed himself to his feet and crossed over to the door. With the way he flung it open, knob slamming against the wall, he’d likely never recover his security deposit. It felt good, though, taking his grief out on that godforsaken suit.

On his way to his front door, Yoongi stopped short. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught sight of a cabinet he hadn’t opened in weeks. As he stared at it, the devil and angel on his shoulders warred over the action he wanted so desperately to take.

Sure, he’d recently — finally — quit at your insistence, but what did that matter now?

He gritted his teeth and shook his conscience off his shoulders with a shrug. Within seconds, Yoongi was on the other side of his kitchen, grabbing an unopened pack of cigarettes and the lighter that lay in wait next to it. He closed his hand tight around it so he couldn’t see the Hello Kitty stickers you’d placed all over the plastic; your attempt to dissuade him from using it in public.

Joke’s on you, he thought as he placed a cigarette between his lips, your plan backfired. Leaving your mark on it the way you had was the only thing that’d kept him from throwing it away — and the only reason he still had a lighter to use at all.

Yoongi opened his front door with one hand as he tried to ignite the lighter with the other. No matter how many time he flicked the pad of his thumb over those little metal ridges, nothing sparked. Defeated yet again, he slumped down onto the porch swing, closed his eyes, and willed himself not to break down over something so stupid.

He had no way of knowing how much time passed as he sat like that. He had no way to tell who those urgent footfalls belonged to, either. That is, not until panted breaths hit his ears and prompted him to open his eyes.

Admittedly, Yoongi had pictured you in your bridal hanbok more than once throughout the years. Half the time, it hadn’t even been purposeful. From first to third grade, you’d rambled to him about your dream wedding on your daily walks home from school. You spoke about it so often, in fact, that even he started thinking about what embroidery a mouse might add to the hem of your chima.

As the pair of you got older, you brought it up less, so Yoongi didn’t think about it often. The image crept up on him, though, once in a while. Every time you brought him as a plus one to your friends’ weddings because you didn’t want to dance alone; and he nearly told you that he’d always want to be your partner.

Or that time you cried through your worst ever heartbreak on his couch, lamented that you’d die an old maid, and never get to wear one.

Even as recently as last night, when he drank half a fifth of whiskey and grieved over the fact that he’d never get to see you wear one.

He couldn’t make heads or tails of the real thing, not with the way you’d doubled over to catch your breath; and bunched the ends up in your fists, presumably to prevent yourself from tripping as you — ran here?

“What did I tell you about the cigarettes?” You puffed, still with your hands on your knees and your face angled at the sidewalk.

Somehow, despite running five kilometers to Yoongi’s doorstep, you hadn’t displaced a single hair from your artfully crafted up-do. Your makeup hadn’t budged, either, which meant that the only sign of your expended effort was the tint of pink on your cheeks and the tip of your nose.

You’d outrun his train of thought in your scuffed, old Vans. Yoongi had to buffer for a moment in order to catch up, but the involuntary smile fighting its way over his mouth didn’t bother to wait. Eventually, he recited your long-suffering appeal, smirking all the while, “They’ll fuck me up, and I’ll have to be wheeled out onto the basketball court in an iron lung.”

“Exactly.”

With one last, deep breath, you returned to your upright position. The second you did, Yoongi was the one choking up.

Rapid blinking did nothing to stop the tears pricking at the inner corners of his eyes. He swallowed the lump in his throat to the best of his ability, but he couldn’t shake the inexplicable flutter in his chest at the sight of you. You’d always been perfect, but this was —

“Oh, my god,” he croaked, thoroughly melted from the inside out.

Yoongi stood before his brain could signal his legs to do so; or remind his hands not to drop the phone, lighter, and cigarettes he’d been holding. His eyes, on the other hand, knew exactly what to do. He drank in your appearance like he’d spent the last twenty-two years wandering, dehydrated in the desert — and in a way, he had.

You blinked back at him with swimming eyes as if you’d found sanctuary, too. Suddenly aware of what you were gripping, you opened your fists and let the fabric flutter down to the ground. While smoothing out wrinkles that didn’t exist, you asked softly, “Not bad for a bunch of mice, right?”

“Look just like a dream,” he replied just as gently.

Yoongi’s hands, which were thankfully now free, reached out and grabbed yours. You followed his lead as he spun you, twirled under his raised arm until you ended up with your face mere centimeters from his.

“Yoongi,” you breathed. Your eyes danced from his, to his lips, and back again. “If you wait another twenty-two years to tell me how you feel, please pick a time and place that is mutually convenient. I swear to God, I’ll —”

It came out much more easily the second time than the first; and when it did, it felt more like a beginning than a bomb:

“I love you.”

[luaspersona]

ok, so i'm a complete sucker for drabbles that tease the hell out of us 😭 and this was SO GOOD istg, i wanna elaborate a bit 🤝🏽

your writing here was just so fucking captivating?? like, from the start i was already so interested by reader and yoongi's relationship and the way you described it was so funny lmao:

“He” as in Min Yoongi, your childhood friend slash nemesis, the older brother of your best friend, or, in the simplest terms, your hot neighbor.

and the same goes for the whole drabble: how you have an amazing control of tone to make his teasing so ridiculously sexy; but also writes the funniest inner monologues and shape a funny and absolutely mortified if even a little intrigued reader; and not to mention the whole AirDrop idea lol, that's good shit and i'm HERE for it 🫡

ugh, i don't know. i love this kinda enemies to lovers in which one is mostly teasing, and the dialogues you wrote are so enticing 😩 from yoongi making reader describe the pic to him sending her another just... ugh 🔪 i'm so single and my neighbor ISN'T min yoongi, how am i supposed so live with that now?

also, i'm afraid this is the first fic of yours i'm reviewing and that won't do 😠 cus omg, i REALLY loved your style and technique here, so i'll come for you 🏃🏽‍♀️

no but, for real, thank you for writing this 🫶🏽 i wish tumblr hadn't limited your reach with the content stuff 'cus everyone should read this 😩

the airdrop incident | myg

🗿pairing: yoongi x reader

🗿genre: fluff, neighbor!au, f2l, childhood friends, best friend's brother

🗿summary: You accidentally AirDrop a racy photo of yourself in strappy lingerie to your hot and arrogant neighbor Min Yoongi.

🗿word count: 1k

a/n: yes this is for yoongi's bday and yes im 471298 years late🥹

An onlooker might be wondering why you’re standing outside your neighbor’s door at ass o’clock in nothing but an oversized tee, but the answer is simple. Mistakes were made. You’re an idiot.

But then he has the audacity to answer the door. “He” as in Min Yoongi, your childhood friend slash nemesis, the older brother of your best friend, or, in the simplest terms, your hot neighbor.

“Yes?” he raises a brow, staring at the way you’re shivering outside his door, the way your perky nipples are most definitely poking through your shirt. You’re sure he sees it all. But given the fact that he’s also seen you practically naked, you don’t even bother covering up. What’s the point?

“Did you, by chance, get an AirDrop like five minutes ago?” you get straight to the point. It’s fucking freezing, after all.

“Depends,” he hums, eyes still very much on your chest. You’re pretty sure he’s dating that pretty brunette you’ve seen sneaking in and out of his house lately, so why’s he looking at you like that? “What was the AirDrop?”

“A picture of me,” you mumble. It was freezing a minute ago, but now your face feels hot. That’s weird.

“Hmm, not sure if the one I’m thinking of is you or not.” The bastard puts on his most exaggerated thinking face—basically the thinking emoji with the hand on his chin. “What were you wearing?”

“Nothing!” you squeak at him. Both of you know no one fucking uses AirDrop except old people. He’s obviously playing dumb and knows what’s going on. He just wants to hear it from your mouth to make his ego bigger than it already is. “You know what I’m talking about.”

“Pretty sure you were wearing something…” he furrows his brow, unlocking his phone to “confirm” what he saw. Like your favorite villain Swiper the Fox, you snatch the phone out of his hand. (He actually just hands it to you, but you like the Dora reference.) “Ah, yes. Black strappy lingerie, right? I didn’t know you were like that, Y/N.”

“Fuck you,” you hiss as you search for the pic in question. AirDrop must have its own stupid section on the phone because you can’t find it anywhere.

“Relax, I already deleted it,” he chuckles. You’re not falling for it. Surely he’s already leaked the photo on OnlyFans. You don’t have a whole lot of faith in Min Yoongi. He’s never been The Nice Guy. “Who were you trying to send it to?”

“None of your business.” He has a girlfriend, after all. Why should he care about who you’re sending those kinds of pics to?

“My sister?”

“Fine. Yes, her.”

“You’re sneaking around sending nudes to my sister? On AirDrop?” he narrows his eyes. Why does he seem more disgusted at the AirDrop part? You’d laugh if you weren’t so stressed. “She’s in a very committed relationship, you know.”

“I’m aware.” You don’t know what’s worse—him thinking you’re hitting on his sister aka your best friend, or admitting the pic was from a photoshoot for your new job. There are no winners here. Might as well come clean. “She requested the pic so she could show support for her lingerie model best friend.”

“My little Y/N grew up and became a lingerie model?” He tilts his head, intrigued. He might’ve deleted the pic from his phone, but you bet the image is still ingrained in that fuckboy head of his. You wonder how his girlfriend feels about him thinking about other girls in that context. You’d feel shitty. “In that case, I’d also like to show support. Mind if you send the pic ag—” 

You cut him off with a growl.

“I kid, I kid.” He waves his hands so you don’t pounce on him. But then something occurs to him. “Wait, so AirDropping it to me wasn’t ‘an accident’?” he asks with air quotes.

“No, it was a real accident, Yoongi,” you scoff. You can’t believe he thought you’d intentionally sent that pic to him. He’s so full of himself.

“Well that’s no fun.”

“Elaborate.”

“It would’ve been kinda cute if you did it to get my attention,” he shrugs. “Just like when we were younger. Remember how you’d always tug on my arm and pout until I acknowledged you?”

“No, but it’s kinda weird that you remember it.” You finally cross your arms in front of your chest. “It’s also kinda weird that you want my attention when that’s what your girlfriend is there for.”

“It’s kinda weird that you keep up with my love life and know I have a girlfriend,” he fires back at you. “I’m breaking up with her, by the way. Just in case you wanted to know.”

You pause the petty war for a second. Min Yoongi is breaking up with his girlfriend because you accidentally sent him one (1) risqué pic of yourself? To be fair, you do look pretty hot in that photo. But still! You’ve known the guy your entire life, and all it’s ever amounted to was banter with a hint of feelings on your end. You’d always assumed Yoongi thought of you as nothing more than his little sister’s friend. Surely he’s just toying with you right now. Because that’s what fuckboys do. 

That’s what Min Yoongis do.

“Good to know,” you nod, the cold breeze coming back. You better leave now before you do something stupid again. Stupid AirDrop. “Well, I’m gonna go now. It’s fucking cold.”

You drop his phone into his palm, your fingers grazing his in the process. They’re so warm. But your fluffy blanket is warmer. And it’d never betray you.

“Thanks for only being a slight dick about the pic,” you say, scurrying off to your doorstep.

“Anytime,” he smirks. Asshole. “I’ll AirDrop you later.”

“I don’t want your dick pics, sir.”

You hear his laugh before closing the door.

A minute later, you get an AirDrop of what you hope is not in fact a dick pic. You accept it immediately.

It’s a blurry selfie of him on his bed, flipping you off with an emphasis on how much extra mattress space he has. That has to be the quickest breakup of all time. They don’t call him a fuckboy for nothing. You shouldn't feel this tempted.

He accompanies the pic with one simple text:

Yoongi🗿 [2:03AM] “Your loss”

[luaspersona]

jeWEL WHAT IS THIS AND WHY IS IT MY NEW FAVORITE THING?

this was so freaking soft? i was smiling like a fOoL from the first word until the very last, and this was just so rewarding? it felt like the warmest hug, making me kick my feet desperately trying to release some of that fluffy energy lmao.

your narration stryle here is just so nice and captivating it had me scrEAMING 🚨 i mean, the way you decided to flash out yoongi's perspective and describe his character was just so charming, the whole first sequence was ridiculously immersive and engaging like 😩:

Sure, he can be jealous. Someone will always be a better musician, have more money, live in a nicer apartment and drive a nicer car and wear nicer clothes. Now, though… someone out there can have you, and that thought tastes sour in his mouth.

it feels so realistic, so palpable! the way you — in only one thousand words!! — convey this agonizing friends to lovers with a style and skill that make us feel the time that they've lost not being able to just spill their feelings, and how satisfying the ending feels 😭

and the fact that namjoon was the one to say it lol OF COURSE IT WAS

and god, you write such soft sentences? the way yoongi slowly accepts that the reader might like someone else here:

If it’s important to you, Yoongi can do anything.

and the cute realization here:

“Yeah, hi,” he says, and it comes out like an immensely displeased grunt. Doesn’t sound at all like he’s happy to see you, and—oh. Yeah. He can understand now why you might’ve been hesitant to say something.

like, god, no other fluff has ever fluffed like this fluff have fluffed, so THANK YOU for writing this omg. it made my whole day and i made me just so freaking happy?🥺

here, let me offer you a pouting yoongi in return 👉🏽👈🏽

For your Yoongi drabbles - reader has a crush and talks about “him” constantly, but Yoongi doesn’t know it’s him until someone else spills readers secret.

this was so cute, thank you for requesting! sorry for the giant meme, but it is literally the exact vibe of this so i had to use it.

loose lips

pairing: yoongi x f. reader genre: friends to lovers, miscommunication (??), fluff warnings: swearing, drinking, namjoon namjooning, unedited rating: e for everyone! there's nothing bad in here wordcount: 1k

it's bee's birthday! send me yoongi requests and/or fic recs!

Min Yoongi is a lot of things.

He’s meticulous and prone to overwork and also lazy and uninspired. He’s chronically over-caffeinated and always half-asleep. He’s the first to blow off plans and the first to pout when he no longer gets invited. He’s brusque and a bit of a bastard but also pleased to be fussed over and taken care of. The kind of person who needs to be wrangled into physical affection, because he just can’t seem to verbalize his desire for it.

Min Yoongi is a lot of things, but he is not, under any circumstances, prone to gossip.

Jung Hoseok, on the other hand, has no such hangups.

Which presents Yoongi with an interesting dilemma. He has to piss, but he has to pass the kitchen to get to the bathroom. And Yoongi is a lot of things and not one of them is prone to gossiping or eavesdropping, but it’s hard to push aside the intrigue of you and Hoseok speaking in hushed whispers in his own kitchen, heads pressed together like conjoined twins.

It looks like a whole lot of conspiring is going on. He refuses to pout.

“You seriously haven’t told him yet?” Hoseok says, and Yoongi can just make it out, but he’s known Hoseok long enough to register the exasperation in his voice. God knows he’s been on the receiving end of it more often than not.

You groan. Probably shoot Hoseok an exasperated look of your own that Yoongi isn’t privy to. “It’s not that easy.”

“It absolutely is that easy. How hard is it to say—”

“Can you shut up?” you whisper-shriek. “You are so annoying—”

“—Hey, I have feelings for you. Would you wanna grab coffee?”

Yoongi is pouting before he even realizes his face has contorted. Sure, he can be jealous. Someone will always be a better musician, have more money, live in a nicer apartment and drive a nicer car and wear nicer clothes. Now, though… someone out there can have you, and that thought tastes sour in his mouth.

It’d been Jimin’s idea to come to Itaewon.

At least they’re at the bar with the good whisky, because Yoongi will max out his credit cards to escape the hell in which he’s found himself. It’d been bad enough with Hoseok, but now he has to deal with it from Taehyung and Jimin, too.

Do you think she’ll ever tell him? This is getting painful.

I don’t know. Hey, are you going to eat the rest of your fries?

Are you fucking serious? Of course I am, I bought them for me—

It’s stupid. It’s so fucking stupid, because everyone seems to be in on a secret he isn’t, but he looks across the bar and finds it hard to care. There you are, laughing wildly as Hoseok twirls you around on the dancefloor. All the lights in this place combined can’t outshine you—not on your worst day, but especially not when you’re like this.

So. Yoongi’s pouting again, plush bottom lip jutting out far enough to brush against his glass of whisky. He’d finally given up and splurged on something top shelf. Figured it’d get him to where he needs to go faster than anything else, because Yoongi is a lot of things and a dancer isn’t one of them, so he’s doomed to spend the night at this table, sandwiched between Taehyung and Jimin.

Listening to them drone on and on about the guy you’re interested in.

He wonders what he’s like. How the two of you met. He pointedly does not think about whether or not this guy’s a dancer, a musician, if he can always afford top-shelf whisky. He wonders if you’re gonna make Yoongi meet him. If he’s gonna have to play nice and pretend to think this guy is cool and interesting. He can pretend, he thinks.

If it’s important to you, Yoongi can do anything.

Namjoon will know what to do, because Namjoon never actually knows what to do about anything and still somehow always arrives at the correct answer.

“Why am I here, hyung?”

Yoongi clears his throat. Spears another piece of beef and puts it on Namjoon’s plate like a peace offering. Orders another round of beers even though he hasn’t touched his first. “Uh,” comes his eloquent response. “Well—”

“Jesus Christ,” Namjoon mutters, face-planting onto the table. “This is worse than I thought.”

Min Yoongi is a lot of things, but if he’s worse than Namjoon thought, he’s in deep shit.

“Um—”

Namjoon picks his head up. Studies Yoongi for a minute, clearly looking for something, before he pinches the bridge of his nose and says, “It’s you, hyung. She’s hung up on you. And I shouldn’t even be telling you this, because we all just assumed both of you would eventually remove your heads from your asses and get it together, but fuck, this is painful. I can’t do this anymore, you know? I’m not your feelings friend. Jimin is your feelings friend, but he said you just sulked the entire night at the bar—”

“I didn’t sulk,” Yoongi argues, but the words are spoken around a pout.

All he receives in return is A Look. “That’s what you’re focusing on?”

Yoongi is a lot of things.

Today, he’s a coward, which is new.

He’s not usually a coward, it’s just… he knows how to be jealous and how to sulk and pout and not get what he wants. Those things are easy. But he has no idea how to deal with the bomb Namjoon had dropped on him. He’s not even sure it’s the truth. What if Namjoon was just fucking with him to get him to stop sulking? That’s absolutely something Namjoon would do because he’s done it before.

He sighs. Stops to catch his breath because you live on the sixth floor in a building with no working elevator and he doesn’t work out, so he’s really going to be pissed if Namjoon lied.

“Yoongi? What’re you doing here?”

His heart really does stop this time, because there you are, fresh-faced and smiling and a little confused, and Yoongi knows his face is splotchy and red and that his hairline is sweaty. “Yeah, hi,” he says, and it comes out like an immensely displeased grunt. Doesn’t sound at all like he’s happy to see you, and—oh. Yeah. He can understand now why you might’ve been hesitant to say something.

“Sorry, I just—these steps, you know?”

“Yeah, they said the elevator’s finally getting fixed next week.”

“Thank fuck.”

Your brows knit together. “You planning on coming by more often?”

Yoongi is a lot of things, but right now he’s impatient. So he closes the distance between you in record time and says, “Yeah. Listen, Namjoon told me this guy you and Hobi have been talking about is actually me—”

“That duplicitous snake—”

“—and I’ve kind of been losing my mind over it, because I feel the same way, so if it’s true I’d really like to kiss you, but I’m not entirely sure Namjoon wasn’t just fucking with me—”

“Oh, like that time he told you he’d seen your rejection letter from SNU just so you’d stop stressing over whether or not you got in and that you’d be even more excited once you did, in fact, get in?”

“Yeah, exactly.”

“Namjoon is a bastard. You should kiss me, though.”

Min Yoongi is a lot of things.

As he presses his lips to yours—soft, soft, soft—more than anything else, he’s happy.

[luaspersona]

i came across this fic last night in my fyp, and i've been thinking about it the whole day, trying to come up with something to say about it.

first and foremost, i thought the writing was so charming!! i think @persphonesorchid dealt very skilfully the amount of backstory she had to present: everything is shown gradually as the interactions between yoongi and the reader take place.

i particularly loved her take on yoongi 🥺 his calm demeanor in contrast with his inner turmoil, his uneasiness near the reader and how much more nervousness she displays with him, it's really endearing as we start to understand where it's all leading to. and i LOVED the way she finally confessed, thought it was so realistic to try to indirectly explain her feelings!

i think it has an amazing pace too, as we go up and down with the characters and grow impatient for the talk!! i was so damn frustrated each time they were interrupted GOD 😩. but those moments in which she couldn't complete her thoughts or when they almost kiss made me realize how much hooked on it i actually was lol, so it's very good written 🙏🏽

loved tae here. his teasing, how obvious he was being, but also his friendship with the sister. loved how tired of them seokjin sounded lol, the whole fic just lowkey 🙄 due to how oblivious they were being.

the smut was also so sexy, so good 🥵 i could feel their earning in their touches and dialogue, and it made it all so good!!! will definitely go back to it eventually 👀. not to mention jimin the next morning all grumpy cause of the noises LOL, he thinking it was porn omg it got me dead 💀 and yoongi not caring at all and kissing her temple, so cute 🥺

also, i was really curious about namjoon and the reader's talk before the almost kiss. was she telling her brother about her crush? 🤔

i will definitely be checking out more of @persphonesorchid 's work cause this was so heart warming and well written!! made me want to experience a real fall since the atmosphere of the fic is sooo perfectly portraited

Auburn Skies - MYG

Summary:  Everyone knows that if your best friend has a little sister, she’s off limits. That, and the fact that your best friend will probably kill you if you even think about going near his sister. Yoongi knows this. There’s no way he could tell Namjoon that once upon a time you kissed him, drunk in his living room after a break up. So much time’s passed since then, too much time to bring it up now, but Yoongi still thinks about it, he’s still a little hopeful. Now you’re here at the lake house because Namjoon brought you and you clearly have something you want to say to Yoongi. 

Namjoon’s gonna kill him.

Genre: 18+, fluff, angst, humor.

Word count: 12k

Warning(s): 18+, smut, oral (m+f receiving) unprotected sex, porn is mentioned. Yoongi and Y/n are BOTH stupid and they need help. Taehyung’s trying his best, Seokjin is also trying his best but subtler. Yoongi’s convinced that Namjoon’s out to get him at every turn. Slight jealousy. Y/n and Yoongi have no idea how to actually hold a conversation like adults, until they do.

Notes: My addition to the Autumn Leaves Collab, hosted by the beautiful @bangtansmauyeondan !! I had so much fun working on this, and I met so many beautiful people that I’m so grateful for, so happy to call my friends 🥺 I love y'all! Please check out the other authors’ fics on the Collab Masterlist! Everyone worked so hard, give my girls some love! Shout out to @blog-name-idk and @xpeachesncream for being absolute aNGELS, beta reading and helping me out when I panicked over this lol, and @madbutgloriouspond for helping me brainstorm. I hope you guys enjoy!! Please leave feedback, I’m nothing but a poor soul seeking validation (and motivation!) to keep going.

“You’re staring.” Seokjin nudges Yoongi’s arm with his, snapping him out of his daze. He catches Seokjin’s smirk, and there’s a twinkle in his eye that promises nothing good. Yoongi pulls his eyes away from your form, sitting in a chair on the dock away from everyone else with a book in your hand. You’re bundled up in a thick sweater and cozy sweatpants, completely lost in your book.

“Was not.” Yoongi feels the need to deny it, distracting himself with cutting up onions, focusing on the way the blade of the knife cuts through the vegetable and definitely not the way Seokjin was wiggling his eyebrows at him.

“Sure. I believe you.”

Somewhere inside, there is music playing. A Lo-Fi beat that plays softly under the sound of rain. It’s kind of sad, if Yoongi is being honest, but he supposes that autumn is a sad season. Nothing but changes all around. The leaves change colours, mixing like paint on an easel in the hands of a melancholy artist drowning in his own solitude. They shift and the vibrancy of summer fades until they die, falling off their homes to go drifting in the wind, or land on the ground to become everyone’s problem.

Keep reading

[luaspersona]

damn that was so cute 🥺

loved to read this, loved the intimacy between yoongi and reader and urgh they snuggling together after jimin and jungkook left 😭

i loved yoongi just quickly finding an excuse but being grumpy because he can't sit with the reader ��🥹🥹

and seokjin? lmao, all condescending patting their backs like "so cute of you for trying" 😭

that was such a wholesome drabble, i really loved it! and your writing made it so cute 🥹

Yoongi 006 + 014 please with a happy ending too?

006. “Are you two... a thing?” + min yoongi

— No, you and Min Yoongi are not a thing. 👀

word count: 999  contents: PURE FLUFF, romance, established relationship kept secret rawr, MIN yOONGI bOYFRIEND THINGS, your big bro is worldwide handsome Jin (Yoongi’s only hyung 🥺💕). featuring Jimin and Jungkook being little shits, no au specified! pairing: min yoongi x reader

[masterlist] | check out more of [2022 — Four Years with Mira]!

A/N: Hey anon! 💕💞💗 i’m so glad you joined!! Unfortunately, #14 was already taken, but I hope you like how this one turned out! I made it v v much a happy scenario for you!~ (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧💖

The moment of peace and quiet is shattered as, unannounced, Jimin and Jungkook burst through your brother's apartment door and strut into the living room where you lay idly on the sofa and watch a movie. They had more free time than expected, they claimed, and thought to spend it with their favorite noona. 

What more is that they come to witness Yoongi coming back from the kitchen with coffee and finger food and visibly frowning when he sees that you've sat up and the two younger men have taken all the seats on the couch—especially his. 

Wordlessly setting the plate of peeled tangerines and mini sandwiches onto the coffee table, Yoongi settles his defeat onto the floor, him and his long black curls just an arm's reach or so away. There's a pout on his lips that makes you bite back a giggle. 

Alas, Jimin, ever the keen-eyed observer, doesn't miss the subtle reactions between you both. "Noona, hyung, are you two…" he began, giggling like old women do to gossip, "a thing?" 

Even Jungkook, who had been so engrossed in the film, turns his wide doe eyes to the conversation in intrigue. 

Glancing Yoongi's way, you watch as he half-heartedly rolls his eyes and shakes his head. "No," he says, "we're not. I'm just here waiting for Jin-hyung."

Hiding your smile under the guise of munching on a tangerine slice, you, too, scoff for additional support. "The only time we held hands was when we were 12 and I had to stop him from pushing me into a pool." you retort, taking it one step further as you cast a fleeting smirk to the begrudged man lounging on the floor and sipping his mug. 

That was a complete and utter lie, of course. You know very well how Min Yoongi loved to hold hands—especially yours. 

See, a few months ago you and Yoongi have become a thing, ultimately deciding to keep your relationship a secret to savor some privacy and mess with the rest of the boys while the two of you were at it. There was also, of course, the musician's woes over your older brother—and his only hyung—finding out about you two and not approving. 

Min Yoongi is very much the soft bastard the boys tease him to be, and far from the cold, enigmatic man everyone else thinks he is. 

Min Yoongi, who loves cuddles, especially for taking naps. It gives him much needed energy for the woes of life, he said.

Min Yoongi, who thanks to his quiet nature, knows very well how to love you in secret—immortalizing you in his works, giving each other knowing looks, and always doing wordless acts of service. 

Min Yoongi, who gladly plopped back to his seat on the couch when the two boys finally decided to go home and leave you two alone yet again in Jin's apartment. 

Nuzzling to his side, you rest your head onto his shoulder with glee as he intertwines his fingers with yours. The gummy smile on his lips is always an endearing sight. "Do you think we should tell them soon?" you then wonder, looking up at him with a slight grimace. "Jimin's very much onto us at this point."

Yoongi hums thoughtfully, brushing your hair back from your forehead. "Do you want them to know?" he asks in a manner that makes your heart giddy like a schoolgirl. 

For a moment or two, you think to yourself. "Hm, I don't think I mind anymore," you smile, giving his tummy a little poke as you wiggle your brows at him. "It'd be nice to hold someone's hand more often."

His chuckle paired with a nose scrunch is an infectious bout of joy. "Maybe that someone would like that a lot, too, actu—"

"Noona, I left my—" 

The silence in the air is immediate—you and Yoongi frozen on the couch while Jungkook gawks at you two by the door. 

A second or two later, the scene finally clicks on the youngest's head and he grins. "You two are a thing!" he cackles, forcing you to rush and pull him into the apartment before he can run outside and tell Jimin what he sees. 

"Jungkook!" you shriek, shushing him with your hand over his mouth. "Shut up, and don't tell a soul about this. We haven't made plans for it yet."

Tattooed hands pry your hands off, still grinning with mischief. "What's in it for me?"

You glance back, seeing Yoongi now up from the couch with his arms crossed. "I'll buy you lamb skewers for a month?" you offer to the younger man.  

"I'll let you live," Yoongi drawls instead. 

"What did Jungkook do again this time?"

One after the other, surprises catch you off guard as you older brother, Seokjin, enters through the door, shedding his coat off as he looks at the three of you, bewildered. Damn, you didn't really want things to be found out this way. 

"Nothing," Jungkook coughs, most likely nudged on by your boyfriend. 

Still, your brother isn't one to be easily swayed by this, eyes squinting in suspicion. "Is it about the two of you?" He questions with one hand on his hips and the other pointing between you and Yoongi. 

"What do you mean?" you feign a smile of innocence, one your brother only laughs at. 

Seokjin comes between you and Yoongi, giving you both pats on the back—for trying, you suppose. "Everyone could tell, (Y/N)," he grins, giving Jungkook a knowing look. "You two aren't as slick as you think."

"Oh," you could only say, a part of you irked yet relieved all the same. You choose the brighter side, pulling away from your brother's hold and circling your arms around Yoongi's waist, who shyly holds you back. Finally, no more holding back.

A kiss to your boyfriend's cheek alone is enough to send your brother gasping, utterly offended. "Ya! Just because I'm allowing this doesn't mean you can be scandalous like this!"

[luaspersona]

i just found this on your masterlist, and i'm sad i haven't noticed it sooner.

this sounds like a "forever rain" epilogue somehow. the next chapter of a man that felt akin to rain because of his loneliness, but now finds company in it.

you make use of a poetic prose similar to what you did with flutter, and it's so charming! also, the use of synesthesia here creates an amazing immersive effect. it was so short, but it feels like a snippet of something eternal, and it hugs the reader just like a blanket.

as i was reading, i wanted to quote some excerpts to point out, but every sentence here deserves our full attention; to quote the best parts would be to quote the whole drabble.

i keep getting impressed with your writing, ryen, but with each work of yours i read, i become even more aware of how versatile you are as an artist, and how much thought do you put into every word you craft.

i really don't have much to say, because i think these are 700 words that speak for themselves, and i feel like anything i add would be to it's loss.

also, how do your writing feels so at home in slice of life!aus? god, it's honestly mesmerizing.

white noise series ; myg

white noise: a collection of short stories based on this post, all of them featuring each member with a distinct sound 

𝐲𝐨𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐢 ; 𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐟𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠  ⤷ “during days in which showers sparkle through gleaming sunshine, you can’t help but think back to when you first met him, blushing faintly whilst enveloped in soft notes of french vanilla”

posted: march 21st, 2021, 7pm est pairing: yoongi x reader (of any gender) genre: marriage!au, fluff rating: pg wc: 0.7k 

Gentle showers greet you like an old friend.

With hands resting on your kitchen sink, you watch droplets stream down your window, imprinting rivers along the shy glass panes hiding behind delicate sheer. A light morning haze perseveres above muted fields stretching into surrounding woodlands, and you wonder if it will damper or heighten the awakening sunrise. Maybe it will surrender instead.

Keep reading

[bts-ficrecs]

oh yes. hybrid aus. my weakness. dsajhlwajav

this story opened so wonderfully. it sets the story so well and like, i love grandpa and yoongi so much and it only just started. that’s how you know it’s good. yes please.

ok so now i’ll cry under the cut bc there’s too much to talk about that i don’t want to expoossse

uGH DID MY HEART STUTTER WHEN GRANDPA DIED?!?!?! UM YES IT DID!!!1 😭😭😭 BUT NOT @ HOW HE LEFT YOONGI UNDER Y/N’S HAIR!!!! LIKE. HE KNEW SHE’D TAKE GOOD CARE OF HIM T_______T <<3333

not @ how one of his first personal tasks is to learn every nook and cranny of his new home. bc he wants to protec y/n. AND OFC!!!! WE KNOW WHY1!!!!! BC SHE TREATS HIM!!!! LIKE!!! A!!! PERSON!!!! NOT A PET!!!DJFLHAEAKW pls!!!! i love them SO much!!!

AND NOT @ HOW U IMMEDIATELY TEASED US WITH AN ALMOST KISS!!! RIGHT AT THE START!!! OMG HFAWHALWHFELAWEL and then!!! she asks him to attend a work party!!! and she comes up to him!! and fixes his shirt!!! and she’s like “I’ll keep in mind to get you more black button-ups, they look good on you.” !!!!! pLS!!!!! how do u do that and nOT expec yoongi’s heart to go BOOM BOOM?!?!??!

aDN THEN HE GOT !!! MAD!!! WATCHING HER SHITTY BOSS TOUCHING HER!!! dadjfakl aND then he can’t take it anymore bc she sTINKS! and she doesn’t sMELL LIKE HIM!!! and THEN HE’S CALLING HER BABY GIRL OH MY GLOB SDLKHFAKJHAL AND THEN!!!! WHEN SHE TURNED IT BACK ON HIM AND CALLED HIM BABY BOY!!!!! OH MY GLOB VLKJRHAEKJFA!!!!!!!!!!!!!1111111111

pffthjasfhaljav do i kNOW how to type in not-all-caps aynmore????😂😂😂

At Your Service

Pairing: BTS Suga  ⇆ Reader

Genre: Hybrid (Doberman Pinscher) | Bodyguard | Office | Fluff | Angst | Smut

Summary: Your Grandpa adopted him, ex-K-9 police dog hybrid, to kept the auto shop safe. He had to fulfill his vicious guard dog hybrid appeal, but he was putty in your hands. However, when an unexpected event happens you took ownership of Yoongi, your best friend…but when tensions build, will he want to stay with you?  

Words:10 K

Warnings: Rated Mature; Death of minor character, sexual content, knotting, oral (giving), switch/dom/sub, baby girl & baby boy, protection, explicit language, and dirty talk.

A/N: Hi…I wanted to release this one-shot as an intermediate while I’m working on another series. Thank you for being patient with me. This is supposed to be lighthearted~. Thank you for reading~ check out the other version to get a (slightly different perspective on this one-shot!

Masterlist |  Monsta X Shownu Version

The whine of drills and sparks singeing metal played in harmony with the sound of heavy rainfall. The toxic combination of gasoline, oil and fresh water bit at his sensitive nose. However, with the years spent in the auto shop, the familiar smells have become comforting. He leaned against the steel service door frame, watching and guarding the entrance protecting the mechanics inside. The rain was thundering against the rooftop and metal awning shading the service doors. He closed his eyes, resting them just for a moment letting his six sense take over, as he was lulled by the cascading waterfall off the awning.

Wet footsteps sloshed against the asphalt, a new sound against the normal industrial noises. The shuffling of a paper bag accompanied the hurried steps. Inconspicuously, a floppy ear perked up towards the sound and when it got closer he pried open an eye. She was wrapped up tightly in a hoodie with her arms struggling over a large bag in her hands. She ran through the parking lot like she was running away from rolling lava. She broke thought the waterfall, her hoodie getting drenched, and pulled the hood of her hoodie back breathing a sigh of relief. He watched the pink and rosy burn on her cheeks and the tip of her nose. A smile radiated from her at him momentarily stopping Yoongi’s heart.

He closed his eye again, but a huff left you noticing his passive attitude. You pulled out a smaller bag out of the bigger paper bag you were carrying with a sly smile. You approached the grumpy, but docile pinscher. He seemed like a quiet one with his stoic exterior, but he could yap at times like a chihuahua. Yoongi put of this pretense of being an aggressor, a force to be reckoned with, but he melted like putty when it came to pets. He was all bark no bite…at least when it came to you.

Keep reading

[luaspersona]

imma say it a hundred times and it will never be enough, but goddamn, jade, you're such 👏🏽 an 👏🏽 amazing 👏🏽 writer 👏🏽, and i'm like, 99% sure you could tell the most uninteresting, boring story in the most enticing, creative way — not that that's the case here; far from it, in fact.

it's mesmerizing to me how you're able to convey so much in less than 2k, barely 1k words. i mean, how much we got to know from the characters with just her reaction to a simple, harmless hey? and again, i've said it every time i've reviewed something of yours, but it's just so true and consistent for your writing that i just have to say it again: your creativity is unbelievable, in the most amazing, fascinating way possible.

like here:

By now, there should’ve been shoe prints worn into the concrete from how frequently you’d passed overtop, but there weren’t.

and how you show that she's actually seeing his place — and him, by extension — for the first time, under the light, without the haze of a hurried, impersonal touch. and it's so so so nice, so hypnotising!

i also liked the suggestion that yoongi pays attention, that he listens to the things she says in bed, and she's the one he wants to spend his birthday with, and ugh what a SOFT explanation, for such a SOFT behavior 😭 he sounds so vulnerable, especially given the fact that he was trying to act as if it was all normal.

and god, this was also so funny? like

It never crossed your mind that he had personal possessions, let alone hobbies. You were shocked to learn that your recurring dick appointment involved a full-fledged person with interests. You coughed, “You read?”

i'd be so offended if someone asked me that lol, made me laugh so much aksjakj

uf... anyway

i'm running out of things to say, but i run out of words whenever i read something of yours, because everything is already said, already there: there's nothing i could say that would enhance your writing or point something new, 'cus i feel like it stands completely on itself, it doesn't need anything said for its impact to be fulfilled

the one with yoongi, netflix, and zero chill

Pairing: Min Yoongi x Reader Type: Drabble; Suggestive Fluff Word Count: 1.1k Content: fuck buddy!au; birthday boi Yoongs A/N: Nobody asked for this — I just wanted it, lmao. HAPPY (belated) YOONGI DAY ‼️

Of all the texts you might’ve expected to receive from Min Yoongi — of all people —this hadn’t been one of them. A far cry from the anticipated “cum over?” and follow-up “that was intentionally cringe but seriously, get here,” it was one word:

Hey.

Simple, unassuming, shockingly innocuous. A text like this from any other person wouldn’t have set off the shop-lifting alarm in your brain, but this one did. 

Until now, all of your other exchanges had been borderline — if not entirely — pornographic. Yoongi had received enough photos of you in compromising positions to fill a dossier; or the national archives, if your tits were properly classified as subjects of great cultural significance. He wasn’t the type to chat for the sake of it, certainly not without an ulterior motive bulging uncomfortably in too-tight jeans. 

What the fuck?

Unable to square this flagrantly conversational message with its sender, you’d replied to ask if he meant to send it to someone else. He hadn’t, he clarified. Then, doubling down on whatever fast-one he was pulling, he’d asked if you wanted to hang out. No suggestive emojis, no “*bang out, my bad” — just an invitation, sans subtext. 

It was too intriguing to ignore.

You parked in your usual spot on a side street and followed the same path you always did towards his apartment building. By now, there should’ve been shoe prints worn into the concrete from how frequently you’d passed overtop, but there weren’t. You were able to confirm as much because you were finally perceiving that sidewalk in sunlight. Even his building looked different when it wasn’t shrouded in darkness and questionable judgment.

After a quick trip up the stairs, you found yourself on familiar territory: a doormat that said “fuck off.” You snorted, staring down at it, and wondered if it knew how often you’d done the opposite.

You knocked and Yoongi answered; his usual smirk wasn’t present with him to greet you. Instead, he offered you what looked like a genuine smile and nodded his head for you to come inside. If your ears hadn’t deceived you, you might have heard him ask about your day, but they were too busy ringing as if a bomb had gone off nearby. Still shocked, your brain was left to stagger through the aftermath while you trailed off after him. 

At this point, on any other occasion, he would be charting a map of your body by now — before you could even cross the threshold. There’d be a mouth nipping at the underside of your jaw, too. In lieu of small talk, his tongue would be lavishing warmth upon the curve of your neck. This time, though, Yoongi kept his hands to himself — and when he led you further into his apartment, he didn’t make a beeline for his bedroom.

Once more, with feeling: what the fuck?

You’d never seen his living room before, not even in your fucked-out wobble towards the door when your nights with him were over. It was cozy, confusingly soft in comparison to the roughness you knew right down the hall. Plush couch, plusher throw blankets, and multiple bookshelves — all seemingly hand-crafted. To your surprise, they were all full of personal trinkets, and curated works of fiction and nonfiction alike.

It never crossed your mind that he had personal possessions, let alone hobbies. You were shocked to learn that your recurring dick appointment involved a full-fledged person with interests. You coughed, “You read?”

It wasn’t meant as an insult, but it sure as hell sounded like one. Immediately, you winced at your lack of tact.

Just add friendly conversation to the short list of things that mouth doesn’t do. 

When Yoongi blinked slowly back at you, all you could do was anticipate. What quip would he hit you with? What sarcastic remark would fly out of his mouth and how wet would it make you despite your embarrassment?

He chuckled, shrugged, and said, “Guess I do.”

Your eyebrows furrowed. Yoongi’s face didn’t change at all, remaining as airy and unbothered as it was when you walked through the door. He unknowingly left you buffering where you stood, walked around the back of his couch, and dropped down onto the cushions.

You might’ve stood there all night, wondering what sort of wormhole you’d fallen into, but he glanced back over his shoulder at you. It wasn’t expectant, the way he eyed you. In fact, he seemed just as confused as you were.

“You good?” Yoongi asked, eyebrow slightly raised.

You opened your mouth to respond; nothing came out. Am I? Does anybody else smell burning toast? You closed it again without saying a word.

Resigned to this frighteningly domestic fever dream, you padded over to where he was — apparently — waiting and sunk down into the cushion next to him. Though you couldn’t explain why, you left a few centimeters of space in between your thigh and his. Grinding yourself down onto his naked lap was one thing, but this all felt so blatantly out-of-bounds.

Once you were settled into your spot, you watched with suspicious eyes as he turned on the television. He’d begun to scroll through Netflix’s newest additions before you’d bothered to blink.

Yoongi was in the middle of asking you what sort of movies you typically watched when you blurted out: 

“I don’t understand what’s happening here.”

He hit play on whatever choice he’d made and set the remote back down onto his coffee table. “What’s happening is Tazza because you said you’ve never seen it.” He responded easily, like none of this was wildly out of the ordinary. Then, he turned to smile at you again. “It’s a great movie. Probably my favorite, honestly.”

There wasn’t a single coherent thought in your brain, just the sound of sirens and flashing red lights. Is this what he meant when he asked you to hang out? Sitting on his couch, fully-clothed, watching a movie? His favorite movie? The one he knows you haven’t seen?

Maybe that was how normal friendships worked, but this friendship blew your back out on a bi-weekly basis. This friend routinely rearranged your guts, whispered depravity in your ear — and throughout all of that, he noted the distinctly non-sexual shit you mentioned in passing.

Things you didn’t even remember saying.

Using some sort of app on his phone, he dimmed the lights. As the opening scene blared from the screen ahead, he nestled himself down into the couch looking downright huggable. It wasn’t a word you’d ever have attributed to Min Yoongi until now, but there was no other way to process the weird urge you felt to nestle into him.

You didn’t, though. You stayed firmly planted within the bounds of your designated cushion, straight upright with perfect posture you’d never previously exhibited. Still, you were staring and you couldn’t quite help it.

Yoongi could sense it, it seemed. He pulled his gaze off the screen and set his sights on you. And he kept them there, inhaling quietly then exhaling a soft sigh. “It’s my birthday.”

If that was meant to be an explanation for summoning you, it only made matters more confusing. Stupefied, you peeped, “Oh? Happy — um — h-happy birthday?”

He looked shy, which was yet another word you’d never expected to associate with him. Even in the dark, you could see the way his cheeks flushed pink.

Yoongi swallowed, nudging your nearby thigh softly with his knuckles. “I didn’t want to spend it alone.”

[luaspersona]

i finished the drabble and saw that there was a whole sequel one-shot, so naturally, i ran here and omg—

i have even more to say 😭 but before i dive into this one, i wanna comment something i forgot to point out in the last review: yoongi's emoji on her phone is so freaking funny djhfksjfkdj i imagined him like:

ok, anyway, moving on~

i really liked the little changes you made to the drabble text, adding some context and the whole saga of the granny across the street lmao, the poor woman doesn't know the THREAT her innocent suffered smh

but i also loved getting to read yoongi's perspective and everything about their fear of disrupting a relationship that was *the* one thing they both truly had. forget moving families, nearly engaged friends, work or whatnot: they are the one's no going away. and that was just so heartwarming and wholesome to see, especially the realization that neither of them were going anywhere.

also, the attention to detail? with the reader knowing what's his favorite dish, only for yoongi to remember she wasn’t a sushi fan and decide to take her to grab some fast food instead.

not to mention the indirect confession, the subtle promises of forever and the “fuck it”, before finally letting go of any hesitation and just going for their feelings (reader be like—

and we SUPPORT you bestie!)

baaaah, i don't know, i loved this way more than i thought i would. your writing is so captivating, so well thought out and skillfully controled. the tone, the pace, the insecurities, the desire and the smut? fuck, everything was just so freaking perfect. the whole airdrop idea was so creative and yoongi going to check on her was so sweet too.

so yeah, again, thank you for writing this 😩 it was way too fucking sweet. also, i want to apologize cus i read the drabble wrong and mistakenly took their relationship as enemies to lovers lol, that's why my review went that way akdhskj

the lingerie era | myg

🦋pairing: neighbor!yoongi x reader (f)

🦋genre: smut, fluff, f2l, neighbor!au, childhoodfriend!au, best friend’s older brother, lingeriemodel!reader

🦋summary: Sending Min Yoongi, aka your ridiculously hot neighbor/childhood friend, a photo of yourself in lingerie might be the best or stupidest mistake you’ve ever made.

🦋word count: 10.1k

🦋warnings: fingering, oral (m receiving), corruption kink, gagging, deepthroating...? rough sex w/protection, implied masturbation (m), light degradation, the way oc becomes a slut for his cock so quick, yoongi touches boobies, nipple play, dirty talk, yoongi teasing reader for 4263 years straight bc he's mean

a/n: this is the extended version of the airdrop incident! if you haven't read that drabble already, it's fine bc that scene is included in this one!💖

An onlooker might be wondering why you’re standing outside your neighbor’s door at ass o’clock in nothing but an oversized tee, but the answer is simple. Mistakes were made. You’re an idiot.

Approximately five minutes ago, you thought it’d be cute to send your best friend Mo a photo from your first day at your new job. But it wasn’t just any photo. It was a photo of you in strappy black lingerie, lying on beige silk sheets all glowy and oiled up. You’re gazing up into the camera lens like it’s the dark eyes of a man about to rail you. 

As weird as it sounds to be sending that kind of photo to your best friend, you’ve known her your entire life and she’s always been the number one supporter of your modeling career. In fact, she’s the one who bugged you for the pics in the first place.

You have no regrets for wanting to share the photo with your best friend. You just hate yourself for thinking it’d be fine to AirDrop it since she lives right next door. In your defense, your company is paying for your work phone—the new iPhone—and you were eager to play around with all the random features you won’t otherwise be using. Besides, AirDrop has a small range and Mo is your neighbor, so it was the perfect opportunity to test it out. In theory, she would’ve received the photo no problem—if she were actually home.

But Mo wasn’t home. You’d realized that too late after the AirDrop had gone through to someone else. Mortified is an understatement of how you felt when she sent a text saying, “GIRL;;;; I’m at Namjoon’s place rn;;;; I  am NOT in AirDrop range🥲”

For a good two minutes, you were convinced it must’ve been some creepy stalker who’d accepted your AirDrop… or the sweet elderly lady who lives across the street and occasionally drops off a tray of baked goods. You could totally see her accidentally accepting the AirDrop, only to be blindsided and violated by that photo of you. There’s no way in hell you’ll be able to return her sparkly red reindeer platter from her last cookie delivery. Not after she’s seen you like that.

But then an even darker thought came to mind. And you’d take creepy stalker or innocent granny over that any day.

That’s how you ended up on your neighbor’s doorstep at ass o’clock.

After letting you stand out in the cold for a whole ass minute, he finally answers the door. “He” as in Min Yoongi, your childhood friend slash nemesis, the older brother of your best friend, or, in the simplest terms, your hot neighbor.

And when you say “hot,” you mean really hot. Your innocent little crush on him was cute when you were ten, but the admiration has since evolved into pure lust. You’ve admittedly thought about him in ways you should not be thinking about a childhood friend let alone your best friend’s brother. 

Whenever you catch a glimpse of his big hands, you wish they were on your body, you wish his long veiny fingers would curl inside you, and the tiniest part of you wishes he wasn’t someone you had a long history with. You always feel like you have to be on your toes around him because of that history. Because you know it can all fall apart with one wrong move—like accidentally sending him a suggestive lingerie photo. Oops.

“Yes?” he raises a brow, staring at the way you’re shivering outside his door, the way your perky nipples are most definitely poking through your shirt. You’re sure he sees it all. But given the fact that he’s practically seen you naked, you don’t even bother covering up. What’s the point?

“Did you, by chance, get an AirDrop like five minutes ago?” you get straight to the point. It’s fucking freezing, after all. He could’ve at least asked you to come inside for a sec. You would’ve declined to avoid the risk of temptation, but still.

“Depends,” he hums, eyes still very much on your chest. The boy has no shame apparently. You’re pretty sure he’s dating that pretty brunette you’ve seen sneaking in and out of his house lately, so why’s he looking at you like that? “What was the AirDrop?”

“A picture of me,” you mumble. It was freezing a minute ago, but now your face feels hot. That’s weird.

“Hmm, not sure if the one I’m thinking of is you or not.” The bastard puts on his most exaggerated thinking face—like that emoji with the hand on his chin. You hate him. “What were you wearing?”

“Nothing!” you squeak at him. Both of you know no one fucking uses AirDrop except old people. He’s obviously playing dumb and knows what’s going on. He just wants to hear it from your mouth to make his ego bigger than it already is. “You know what I’m talking about.”

“Pretty sure you were wearing something…” he furrows his brow, unlocking his phone to “confirm” what he saw. You snatch the phone out of his hand, but he seems to remember the contents of the photo just fine. “Ah, yes. Black strappy lingerie, right? I didn’t know you were like that, Y/N.”

“Fuck you,” you hiss as you scroll through and search for the picture in question. AirDrop must have its own stupid section on the phone because you can’t find it anywhere.

“Relax, I already deleted it,” he chuckles at how determined you are. You’re not falling for it. Surely he’s already leaked the photo on OnlyFans. You don’t have a whole lot of faith in Min Yoongi. He’s never been The Nice Guy. “Who were you trying to send it to?”

“None of your business.” He has a girlfriend, after all. Why should he care about who you’re sending those kinds of pictures to?

“My sister?”

“Fine. Yes, her.”

“You’re sneaking around sending nudes to my sister? On AirDrop?” he narrows his eyes. Why does he seem more disgusted at the AirDrop part? You’d laugh if you weren’t so stressed. “She’s in a very committed relationship, you know.”

“I’m aware.” You don’t know what’s worse—him thinking you’re hitting on his sister aka your best friend, or admitting the pic was from a photoshoot for your new job. There are no winners here. Might as well come clean. “She’s the one who asked for pics so she could fangirl over her lingerie model best friend.”

“My little Y/N grew up and became a lingerie model?” He tilts his head, intrigued. He might’ve deleted the pic from his phone, but you bet the image is forever ingrained in that fuckboy head of his. You wonder how his girlfriend feels about him thinking of other girls in that context. You’d feel shitty. He’s a horrible boyfriend. “In that case, I’d also like to show support. Mind if you send the pic ag—” 

You cut him off with a growl. His eyes slowly work their way up your bare legs to your chest to your death glare.

“I kid, I kid.” He waves his hands like a white flag so you don’t pounce on him. But then something occurs to him. His smug look turns into a frown. “Wait, so AirDropping it to me wasn’t ‘an accident’?” he asks with air quotes.

“No, it was a real accident, Yoongi,” you scoff. You can’t believe he thought you’d intentionally sent that pic to him. He’s so full of himself. He’s the last person you’d ever want to see those pics.

“Well that’s no fun.”

“Elaborate.”

“It would’ve been kinda cute if you did it to get my attention,” he shrugs, leaning his head against the doorframe. “Just like when we were younger. Remember how you’d always tug on my arm and pout until I acknowledged you?”

“No, but it’s kinda weird that you remember it.” You finally cross your arms in front of your chest. “It’s also kinda weird that you want my attention when that’s what your girlfriend is there for.”

“It’s kinda weird that you keep up with my love life and know I have a girlfriend,” he fires back at you in his usual arrogant tone. “I’m breaking up with her, by the way. Just in case you wanted to know.”

You pause the petty war for a second. Min Yoongi is breaking up with his girlfriend because you accidentally sent him one (1) risqué photo of yourself? To be fair, you do look pretty hot in that photo. But still! You’ve known the guy your whole life, and all it’s ever amounted to was banter with a hint of feelings and dirty thoughts on your end. You’d always assumed Yoongi thought of you as nothing more than his little sister’s friend. Surely he’s just toying with you right now. Because that’s what fuckboys do. 

That’s what Min Yoongis do.

“Good to know,” you nod, the cold breeze coming back. You better leave now before you do something stupid again. Stupid AirDrop. “Well, I’m gonna go now. It’s fucking cold.”

You drop his phone into his palm, your fingers grazing his in the process. They’re so warm. But your fluffy blanket is warmer. And it’d never betray you.

“Thanks for only being a slight dick about the pic,” you say, scurrying off to your doorstep.

“Anytime,” he smirks. Asshole. “I’ll AirDrop you later.”

“I don’t want your dick pics, sir.” You hear his laugh before closing the door.

A minute later, you get an AirDrop of what you hope is not in fact a dick pic. You accept it immediately. It’s a blurry selfie of him on his bed, flipping you off with an emphasis on how much extra mattress space he has. That has to be the quickest breakup of all time. They don’t call him a fuckboy for nothing.

He accompanies the selfie with a simple text:

Yoongi🗿 [2:03AM] “Your loss”

The rest of the night is spent staring at the extra space next to him on his bed. He’s taunting you. Teasing you. Tempting you to do something you’ll surely regret. Well, you’re not taking the bait. The accidental AirDrop was an honest mistake, but this one would be all on you. Because you understand the risks.

It’s best to keep things how they are between you two.

After a night of tossing and turning, your week somehow gets worse. Your car decides to malfunction fifteen minutes before you’re supposed to be at work. You swear it was working perfectly yesterday. Then again, you don’t know shit about cars.

Your first instinct is to call Mo. You like to think of yourself as a prepared person, but shit happens. And when shit happens, Mo is your person—your one phone-a-friend. But you know she’s with Namjoon, and you know she’d drop everything including him for you—you’d do the same for her. You’d rather not be a cockblock when things are going so well for them.

Alternatively, you would’ve borrowed your parents’ car, but they moved into a nicer place a few years ago and reluctantly left you behind after a lot of convincing on your end. You can handle yourself, you told them. And it was going great—until The AirDrop Incident happened and your car refused to start up for no fucking reason. 

Uber and public transportation are other options, but you don’t have time to wait for those rides to arrive. You need to leave in the next 30 seconds or risk being late. Your new job is on the line here.

And that’s why you find yourself, once again, at Min Yoongi’s doorstep. You hate it here.

He opens the door and blinks his heavy lids at you several times before saying anything. Poor boy. The morning sun is too bright for him, like a cat waking up from its first nap of the day. And yet, he still manages to look so attractive with that messy hair and furrowed brow. You bet the raspiness in his voice is even more seductive in the morning. It is.

“Are we really doing this again?” he asks, pointing his finger back and forth between you and him. At least he’s awake enough to realize shit like this shouldn’t be happening two days in a row. You’re sick of it too.

“I need to be at a shoot in like ten minutes, and my car is fucked up right now, so…” You wish the boy would finish the sentence for you, but he’s just standing there like a smug ass. You’d shove him over, but you’re going to be late and he’s your only option. So you swallow your pride, just this once. “Do you think you can give me a ride?”

He makes some sort of grunt and says, “I’ll be out in a sec,” before shutting the door in your face. You’ll take that over the teasing you were expecting. Must be too early for the banter.

As soon as you get into his car, you realize you were horribly wrong. The false sense of security got you good. Apparently, it’s never too early for banter.

“What would you do without me, hm?” he asks, looking more awake and alive than ever before. Glowing, even. You knew it. He gets a kick out of you needing his help. He’s always been like this. One time when you were seven, your dumb ass climbed up a tree and got stuck up there like a cat. He’d only helped you down after you begged him for ten minutes straight. And although he stood right below you to break your fall in the unlikely event that you slipped, he also had a big fat smile on his face the entire time. He’s the worst.

“I’d manage.”

“I’m sure you would, Y/N.” He doesn’t sound very convinced. Kind of like your parents before they agreed to trust you on your own. “So, what’s this about lingerie and modeling?”

“Got a problem with it?” you challenge him. The very reason you haven’t told anyone else about your job aside from your best friend is that fear of judgment. As far as your parents know, you do modeling for a trendy clothing brand (you do). They just don’t know about your side hustle. You’re sure a guy like Yoongi has no problem with it, though. In fact, last night he sounded awfully eager to support your new job because it just so happens to center around two of his favorite things—tits and ass.

“Not at all,” he hums. “Just curious how it happened.”

“My ex had connections to the company,” you say.

“And you dumped him after he got you a job?” He raises his brow and laughs. What’s he so amused about? “Kind of savage, Y/N.”

“Actually, he broke up with me,” you correct him. How dare he assume you’re the savage one.

“Why would he do that?” he asks, as if it’s not normal for people to break up. Maybe it’s just his protective gene kicking in. He was the same way when he heard about your first breakup years ago.

“He said I wasn’t giving him enough,” you shrug. You’re honestly not too upset about it. It’s not like you had enough time to get attached to him anyway.

“Giving him enough what? Head?”

You glare at the boy even though you really want to laugh. He’s not entirely wrong.

“Sorry.” He does a quick glance at you as he turns the corner. Still smiling, though. “Well, if I had to guess, it had something to do with you playing hard to get.”

“I do not play hard to get,” you say with a firm hmph. 

“You’re certainly not making it easy now,” he frowns. Okay, maybe he has a point. But in your defense, the trait rubbed off on you from Yoongi himself. You spent your entire childhood chasing after him and wound up with nothing. You worked your ass off for any sort of reciprocated feelings from him, only for him to continue to treat you like an annoying child as you both grew older. 

By the time college came around, you were tired of doing all the chasing and thought you’d finally outgrown that neediness for him. You told yourself it was better that way, to keep him as nothing more than a bittersweet childhood memory. And you moved on. For once, you just wanted to be desired and admired by someone as deeply as you’d felt for Yoongi.

And when you think about it, all of your past relationships might have relied too much on the thrill of the chase. You never thought about what came after. You never envisioned a future beyond the chase. That’s why those relationships were so quick to fizzle out. You didn’t give them a reason to stick around. 

You didn’t give them enough.

Yoongi unlocks the doors as he pulls up in front of the building for the shoot. You unbuckle your seatbelt and thank him on the way out like he’s your Uber driver.

But then he goes off script. “When should I pick you up?”

You weren’t expecting a ride home. After your car died on you, you’d immediately changed from your cute ankle boots into sneakers in preparation for the long walk home after work. In fact, you would’ve opted to walk to work too if you had enough time. Like you said before, you can handle yourself just fine. Ever since you found your footing as a model and started living alone, you’ve stopped relying on anyone else.

“No need. I’ll walk home,” you gently decline, kicking your white sneakers up for him to see. 

Still, you can’t pretend like it doesn’t feel nice that the boy offered you another ride. It’s a subtle gesture, but it lets you know he’s watching out for you. There’s at least one person you can count on, even when your best friend and family aren’t around. And that’s already more than you could ever ask for.

“We can grab dinner after,” he suggests, leaning his arms against the steering wheel. You know exactly what he’s doing—playing to your weakness and bribing you with food. Because that’s the one thing you rarely ever say no to. You’ve always been that way.

“Okay, sure. I’ll be done around six.” 

It’s fine. You’ll pay for his meal as thanks for the rides. Then you’re even. 

The first half of the shoot goes well. The lingerie they’ve picked out for you is super pretty, and the assistant said you get to keep your favorite set after the day wraps up. Right now, you’re feeling pretty fucking good despite the stressful night and morning you had. 

During your lunch break, you find some shameless texts waiting for you.

Yoongi🗿 [10:34AM] “My friend would like you to send pics of your wardrobe😌”

Yoongi🗿 [10:34AM] “For science”

For science. Your smile flattens just a little. You get that he’s just teasing you, but part of you really wonders if he’s only paying this much attention to you because of your job and the picture you’d AirDropped to him. All you are to him is a hot body to look at. That’s the only reason he broke up with his girlfriend, isn’t it? 

If you hadn’t been a dumbass and sent him that photo, he would’ve simply dropped you off at work like the silent Uber driver he was supposed to be. And that would’ve been the end of it. There wouldn’t have been a “let’s get dinner after” or a “send pics of your skimpy lingerie.”

And yet, this is exactly what you’d been yearning for since age five—his attention.

If you really wanted to, you could play along and send him a teaser of the lingerie you decided to take home—a polka-dot mesh set that is very seethrough. You could even drop it in his lap when he picks you up later and tell him it’s a souvenir. That’d get his attention for sure. 

But you’re not going to do that. Obviously. Instead, you send him a boring pic of a rack with empty hangers. Because that’s playing it safe.

Yoongi🗿 [12:58PM] “Going nude today?”

Yoongi🗿 [12:58PM] “Or are those micro thongs getting smaller?🧐”

Yoongi🗿 [12:59PM] “Hello”

You wheeze. He’s lucky you’ve known him since birth. If it were any other guy, you’d ghost him for saying shit like that. Then again, he’s only saying it because he knows he can get away with it with you. 

Y/N🐣 [1:00PM] “i have to get back to work now🫡”

When you finally reach the homestretch of the shoot, you’re tired and more than a little hungry. It’s been a long day, but you want to finish strong before indulging in a nice dinner with you-know-who. You decided you want to take him to your favorite new sushi spot. Not because you know he loves sushi but because it’s what you happen to be craving today.

While sitting down on the fluffiest rug your ass has ever felt, you model a pretty white set with lots of ties like a bikini. Just a few more photos to go, and then you can get your sushi with your Uber driver. But then your starved brain starts to fuck with you.

Just off to the side behind the camera, you see a shadow that looks a lot like Yoongi. You know it’s not actually him, though. It’s just a hallucination spawning from your cravings. Your cravings for sushi, you clarify to yourself.

Then the shadow crosses his arms and smirks as you get on your knees and press an innocent finger to your bottom lip like you’re just asking for your mouth to be filled. As soon as the camera captures a few shots, your eyes dart back to check on the shadow. He gives you a thumbs up.

That’s not a shadow.

Suddenly, your cheeks are hot and your chest is pounding. He’s not supposed to be here. How are you supposed to focus when you know your childhood friend is watching? You have all these eyes on your body as it is, but he’s the only one that really gets you flustered. More flustered than your first day on the job here.

“Can we redo that shot one more time, please?” the photographer asks. “Relax your shoulders a bit, honey.”

You drop your shoulders, but that’s not going to hide the way your heart is practically pounding out of your chest that you know he’s got his eyes glued to.

“Actually, can I take a quick water break?” You shoot up from the rug, take a long sip of water, grab your thin little robe, and drag your unwanted visitor off to the side.

“Hi to you, too,” he says, glancing down at the way your fingers wrap around his wrist.

“What are you doing here?” Your shaky tone screams of unease. When he said he’d pick you up, you weren’t expecting him to actually go in like a parent picking up their kid from school. He was supposed to stay put in his car where you’d meet him after work. That was the plan. Not this.

He studies your face as if he’s debating whether or not you’re being serious right now, as if he expected you to be happy to see him. After building up the anticipation for several seconds more, he has the audacity to say, “Just here to show my support for my lingerie model neighbor.”

Why did you even bother asking? You should’ve known. He just confirmed what you’d hoped wasn’t true. He’s only paying any attention to you because of that dirty image you ingrained in his head with that dumb AirDrop.

And to be honest, you’re kind of over it. Maybe it’s just your empty stomach raging, but he should know that this is crossing the line. He’s your neighbor for crying out loud. He’d seen you lose your two front teeth, gone trick-or-treating with you, witnessed your awkward teen phase, and all that other wholesome childhood shit. Sure, he gave you a hard time every step of the way, but his presence in your life and the memories you made together were all you ever wanted to protect. 

That’s why you chose to stay behind when your parents moved away. You were fine with being away from your own family, and you were even fine when Mo started spending more time with Namjoon. But Yoongi has always been a different case.

You gave up on seeing him in a romantic way after realizing it just wasn’t realistic. If you’d let yourself feel that way any longer, he’d eventually have to reject you, and then that would be the end of it. And you’d much rather keep him in your life than risk it all with a dumb confession of unrequited love. He doesn’t love you, and you’re okay with that.

You just wish he wouldn’t make it so painfully obvious that it’s only your body that he’s after. Because that’s when it might be easier on your heart to cut ties with him.

“I work better when you’re not here.” You let go of his wrist and don’t look up from the red mark your tight grip left on his pale skin. You’re not going to let his charm sway you. He needs to leave. Nothing good can come out of him being here.

So he backs away and leaves.

As you tie your sneakers and refill your water bottle in preparation for the long walk home, you let out a big sigh. Looks like you won’t be getting your sushi fix tonight. Stupid AirDrop.

You wave bye to the crew and claim your free lingerie before stepping outside. To your surprise, it’s already dark out even though you thought the sun wasn’t supposed to set until seven. If you squint hard enough, you swear you can see Yoongi’s car parked in the lot. 

So you try not to squint.

But as soon as you walk past the car, your feet make a u-turn until you can see the boy leaning back in his seat, eyes closed and arms folded against his chest. You might still be upset, but you can’t deny how good-looking he is. It’s not fair. The only reason you stop staring is to avoid judgment from anyone passing by. And because you kind of need to talk to him.

You knock on the window on the passenger side.

He doesn’t even flinch.

You knock again. Still nothing. Either he’s dead, or he’s just fucking with you. He better not be fucking with you when you’re mad. Read the room, asshole.

Trying your best not to throw your phone at his window, you instead use it to call him. His phone screen blinds you as it flashes on in the darkness and vibrates against his thigh.

This time you catch the slightest twitch of his pretty pink lips. They’re glowing in the light of his phone screen.

You walk around to the driver’s side and get a better look at his glowy handsome face. “I know you’re awake.”

Now he has a full smile to accompany his closed eyelids, cosplaying as a happy corpse.

You roll your eyes at him and start walking in the opposite direction. “All good, I’ll just walk home.”

The doors unlock real quick. The corpse snaps out of his eternal slumber. “Hey, I was kidding,” he calls out the window. “Come back here.”

For the second time in the past three minutes, you make a u-turn toward his car. But this time, you hop in, hesitant to look him in the eye.

“I didn’t think you’d still be waiting here…” You bite your lip. You wish he weren’t still here. Then you wouldn’t be forced to talk about what happened earlier. It’d be much easier to not talk about your feelings.

“You agreed to grab dinner with me afterward, didn’t you?” He’s acting like you didn’t banish him from the building twenty minutes ago. He’s acting like you could’ve told him to never speak to you again and he’d still be waiting here because of some promise you’d both made earlier in the day. He would’ve been waiting here for you no matter what. 

Maybe you shouldn’t have gotten that upset. Time to go in over-two-decades-of-history-preservation mode.

“Yeah but… I kind of overreacted earlier. Then again, I don’t know how else I’m supposed to react when my neighbor sees me half-naked,” you say, shrinking in your seat. “I still meant what I said, though. I work a lot better when you’re not around because you make it hard to focus.”

You immediately regret admitting that last bit.

“It’s understandable that you get so flustered around me. Kind of cute, too,” he hums like he just won the lottery. Mother fucker. “But I should’ve just been honest with you earlier.”

“What do you mean?” You tilt your head like a lost puppy.

“Someone obviously hasn’t checked their phone in a while,” he chuckles, pointing to the pink phone resting atop the mesh lingerie in your bag. You grab your phone and shove the lingerie deeper into your bag until it’s out of his view. Hopefully, he didn’t notice.

Sure enough, you have more unread texts waiting for you beneath the thirsty ones from lunch.

Yoongi🗿 [6:29PM] “Is the shoot running late?”

Yoongi🗿 [6:29PM] “No rush btw. Just want to make sure you didn’t die in the bathroom or something haha”

Yoongi🗿 [7:01PM] “So should I be concerned or”

Yoongi🗿 [7:02PM] “Just to clarify, I don’t believe you’re deceased in the bathroom”

Yoongi🗿 [7:02PM] “But I am gonna go in and check lol”

Then you realize how late it is. It’s over an hour past the time you told Yoongi you’d be done. No wonder it’s fucking dark out.

Your whole mind is spinning, and you have a lot of questions. You turn to him, and the first thing you ask is, “You thought I died in the bathroom?”

“You were running late, not responding, and, well… I had to check,” he shrugs his shoulders. “I didn’t know the lady at the front desk was going to bring me right to the shoot.” So he had good intentions after all. He wasn’t just after your body—far from it, in fact. He was genuinely worried about you. 

Well, shit. Now you look like the asshole for telling him to fuck off after he thought to check up on you like a guardian angel. He should’ve just said so in the first place. But maybe it’s hard for him to admit that sort of thing, too. You can relate.

You still feel bad, though. Doubt had clouded your better judgment because of your own insecurities. You didn’t believe what he was doing for you was unconditional. But the truth is, he cares about you more than you know. He always has.

Was Yoongi completely and utterly crushed after you’d asked him to leave your photoshoot? Yes. But he wasn’t going to show that to you. After all, as far as you knew, he’d only dropped by to check you out in that pretty lingerie. That’s always been his biggest downfall. He’s never been fully honest with you. It’s understandable that you’d be frustrated with him.

You had every right to be mad at him for interfering with your work. You had every right to walk away right past his car after the shoot. And yet, you still chose to sit down beside him to salvage whatever it is between you and him. It’s always been complicated like this, but it’s worth all the petty bickering you guys do on a daily basis. Seeing you so flustered and cute makes it all worth it.

The last thing he wants is for you to slip through his fingers. Because a world without you would just be weird. And boring. And lonely.

And now you’re rambling on about sushi—his favorite food. You claim you’ve been craving it all day, but it’s not very convincing.

“Hey, the sushi place is the other way,” you frown as he turns left instead of right. “You’re the worst Uber driver ever. I’m leaving you a one-star review.”

“I thought you didn’t like sushi,” he points out, completely ignoring your Karen threat.

“Yeah, when I was like ten. I’m allowed to change what I like, aren’t I?” You make a good point. Maybe your taste buds have changed and you aren’t just catering to his preferences. But it’s in his nature to keep pushing your buttons, to keep getting a reaction out of you. That’s the one thing he knows will never change between you and him.

“You were cuter when you didn’t like sushi.”

“Fuck you.” You turn your head away from him and toward the window to hide your face. He can still see your reflection, though. For such harsh words, your expression is soft. 

It’s funny because that’s what Yoongi has always liked most about you. You’re a tough cookie—you know it, he knows it, everyone knows it—but the best cookies are the ones with soft centers. And he loves to devour and savor that soft side you only seem to show him.

About ten minutes later, he pulls up to a drive-thru you’ll surely recognize. He doesn’t go there often himself, but whenever he does, he’s reminded of those Halloween nights spent scaring the shit out of you before spending his allowance to buy you a kid’s meal with a dumb light-up pumpkin toy. He’s reminded of the time you broke up with your first boyfriend and needed someone to rant to over vanilla milkshakes and fries. He’s reminded of the past two decades the two of you shared together, no matter how silly or short-lived the moments were. He’s cherished all of it.

It might not be the sushi you’d hoped for, but your eyes light up when you see the fast food sign. You lean in closer to him to get a better look at the menu. Today you smell like fruit and—he goes in for another sniff by your neck, purely to identify the intoxicating scent you’re wearing—something floral. 

“Ooh, order me the nugget combo with an iced coffee,” you finally glance at him, mid-sniff, with the eyes of an angel. He knew you’d appreciate the fast food.

“You and your nuggets. What are you? A baby?” he chuckles before being greeted and prompted to order over the speaker. “Can we get a burger combo with iced coffee, one kid’s meal with nuggets and milk—” 

You give his shoulder a small shove. 

He smirks but otherwise continues on as if nothing happened, “—and a nugget combo with iced coffee.”

“So a total of two combos and one kid’s meal?” the employee double-checks.

“Actually—”

“Yeah,” he cuts you off and drives to the pick-up window before you could protest and cancel the kid’s meal order.

“Why do you need a kid’s meal?” you mumble as the employee hands off the big bag of food to Yoongi. You’re so cute when you’re pouty.

“It’s for you, obviously.” He pulls into a spot in the empty lot and takes a sip of his coffee.

“Why do you always treat me like a baby?” That’s the question you ask as you take the kid’s meal box from his hand and start snacking on the few nuggets it comes with.

Because you’re tiny and cute and need to be protected at all costs, he wants to say. Instead he goes with the safer option. “Because you’re my little sister’s friend.”

“But Mo’s rarely ever around anymore. I feel like I’m spending more time with you than her at this point.” That’s true. Her and Namjoon have basically become inseparable. That must suck at least a little for you. 

“I personally wouldn’t let that slide.” As much as Yoongi loves his sister and knows she’d do anything for you if you asked, he also knows you’re not the type to reach out unless you really need to. If Mo understood you the way he understands you, she’d know to check in with you, to send you the occasional random meme in case you’re having a bad day, and to remind you that you aren’t alone. 

But that’s where he comes in. 

“It’s fine, I’m happy for her and Namjoon. Last I heard, she’s waiting for the proposal.” You set down the empty kid’s meal box and move on to your actually dinner. He has to resist the urge to pick the little nugget crumb off the corner of your lips.

“You don’t feel left behind?” he asks. It’s crazy to think his little sister could be getting married soon. Meanwhile, he’s watched you cycle through several boyfriends without much luck. His own love situation isn’t much different, but that’s what happens when no relationship has inspired him to do the things he does for you. Your presence in his life is more than just love and lust. 

Everything you are to him is unconditional.

You shake your head at his question as you glance up at the stars through the windshield. “There’s only one person I’d ever feel left behind by.”

If it’s not Mo or your family, then surely it’s the guy you’ve been chasing after all these years, the guy who teases you because you have a cute pout, the guy who’s been with you every step of the way. The one guy you didn’t want to see your lingerie photos in fear of ruining everything. Surely it’s him you’d be hurt by most if you lost him.

“He’s not going anywhere, Y/N,” he assures you.

You continue to study the stars in silence. There are no shooting stars out tonight, but what you’re looking for isn’t a wish. “Is that a promise?”

He nods. The easiest nod of his life. “That’s how it’s always been, right?”

You nod back. It’s always been you and him. Nothing could ever erase that history you’ve both been trying so hard to protect. There’s no need to play it safe anymore. The history between you and him is stronger than that.

As a way to transition out of the sappy stuff, you reach down and grab the toy from the kid’s meal—a tiny soft cat, probably from a baby cartoon or whatever. You have an awfully big smile on your face for someone who complained about ordering the kid’s meal in the first place. 

Without thinking, Yoongi snatches the cat out of your grasp and dangles it by the tail in front of your eyes. “I’ll be keeping this.”

“I thought you said it was my kid’s meal.” You swing your little paw at him to reclaim your prize, but he’s too quick, holding the cat captive just out of your reach. It’s incredible how easy you are to taunt, especially over something as silly as a toddler toy. Maybe he’s just become a pro at it with over two decades of experience.

After unbuckling your seatbelt, you practically lunge over the center console and lean your weight on the edge of his seat with one hand while the other reaches for the cat, now pressed against the window on Yoongi’s side. He can smell your pretty perfume again, and he’s going to make it last as long as possible.

He brings the cat forward until it’s an inch away from your hand to encourage you to stretch just a tad closer to him. It apparently works, because the hand supporting your body has moved onto his thigh to give you the extra bit of reach. 

If you’re both not careful, you might fall into his lap. He wouldn’t mind it of course, but then you’d feel how hard he’s getting just from having your hand on his thigh like that. Your sweet scent isn’t helping his situation either.

“Say please and it’s all yours.” He lets out an awkward half-cough after inhaling a large dose of your perfume. Very smooth, Yoongi.

You narrow your eyes at him before backing off. His thigh can finally breathe, not that it wanted to. “I don’t need it that bad.”

Aww, you’re acting all tough again. Yoongi slips the cat plush into his pocket with a smirk. “See? Playing hard to get.”

“I swear I’m only like this with you. You drive me mad,” you let out a dramatic sigh.

That’s right. He affects you in a way no one else does. “Good.”

“No, not good.” You wiggle a finger at him as you scan the receipt and pull out your phone. Several seconds later, he gets a notification of you sending him money for all the food.

“You could’ve at least let me pay for the kid’s meal.” Especially after he pocketed the cat.

“I’m just paying you back for all the rides so far.” So far? Interesting choice of words.

“Does that mean you’re going to need another one tomorrow?” He takes another sip of his coffee.

“I don’t know, maybe. I’m getting my car looked at tomorrow morning before work, but…” You have that ashamed look on your face again for having to ask for another ride. You’re not a burden to him. Ever.

“Got it. I’ll be on standby. Just AirDrop me if—”

“Enough with the AirDrop.” You give him another feisty shove and almost knock his coffee out of his hand. Even if the coffee had stained his whole car, he would’ve forgiven you immediately because your smile is so pretty. He’s just happy you’re back to being playful with him. “If I need anything, I’ll let you know. Thank you, Yoongi.”

On the drive home, you tell him more about your job with such a glow. The days might be long sometimes, but the crew has been so sweet, and the photographer “knows how to make you look good.” The photographer could be terrible and you’d still look amazing. There’s no doubt in Yoongi’s mind about that.

You also mention something about special little perks, too.

“Special little perks like what?” he asks, more curious than he’d like to be.

“Guess.” Why are you tempting him like this?

“Does it have something to do with the lingerie in your bag?”

You blink at him like a deer in headlights. Uh oh. “You were supposed to pretend like you didn’t see that.”

“See what?” he plays along. Good save, Yoongi.

You give him a thumbs-up and smile the rest of the way home.

After parking in the space in front of his house, Yoongi takes a five-second look at your car right behind his. It looks perfectly fine. Whatever the issue is, it’s not visible from the outside, but hopefully it stays broken for a while.

“Is it actually broken or did you just say that to score a ride from the handsome guy next door?” he teases.

“The latter, obviously,” you deadpan before switching over to the most precious giggle ever. You’re so fucking cute. “Thanks for the ride, Handsome Guy Next Door.”

“No problem.” He watches, amused, as you dig through the lingerie in your bag to find your keys. He’d turn on the flashlight on his phone to help you see better, but he’s supposed to be ignoring that mesh polka-dotted lingerie. That’s what a good and respectful neighbor would do. 

Fuck it. He immediately breaks down and shines a light on the sheer bralette and g-string (and your keys). It’d look so pretty on you.

You grab your keys and shoo away his shameless horny eyes. That’s his cue to leave things as they are, just as he had the night before. If you wanted something more, you’d let him know. He’s already assured you everything will be fine between you and him no matter what.

Just as he unlocks his door, you stop him in his tracks.

“Yoongi, wait.”

He turns around, a little too eager some might say. You haven’t even said anything else, but he’s already ready to say yes to whatever it is.

You dig around in your bag again. He catches a glimpse of the mesh fabric between your fingers. He’ll take a souvenir any day.

But then you toss it back in your bag and hum an innocent, “Never mind, it’s nothing.”

You’re such a tease. Oh how the tables have turned.

As soon as you close the door behind you, you kick off your white sneakers, and take the teeny tiny lingerie with you to your room.

You saw how quick he was to turn around when you called out to him. You saw how he practically drooled at the lingerie in your bag. He wasn’t ready for the night to end either.

Piece by piece, you toss your clothes aside and replace them with the mesh polka-dotted triangles. Your little nipples are so visible through the thin pieces of cloth. Good.

Then you take a quick bed selfie, just like Yoongi had one night ago. And you lay it all out there. You’re done hiding and suppressing your feelings for him. Because no matter what happens between the two of you, even if the night doesn’t go the way you hope, you’re not going to lose him. That’s what was promised in his car.

So, one last time, you AirDrop him a photo of yourself in lingerie. He accepts it immediately.

Then you text him.

Y/N🐣 [8:18PM] “you asked for a pic of my wardrobe earlier didnt you?”

Y/N🐣 [8:18PM] “btw knock on my door rn or youre a coward😡”

You’re really doing it. There’s no going back now.

You throw a hoodie over your shoulders and leave it unzipped as you pace back and forth in the hall. You always wondered why you get so antsy when it’s just Min Yoongi. It’s literally just the guy you’ve lived next to your entire life. But that’s the hold he has on you. The mere thought of being with him never fails to excite you. Those are the kind of butterflies you get with him.

Your heart nearly jumps out of your chest when you hear his knock. You swing the door open before you can chicken out.

Of course his eyes immediately fall on your chest. He almost forgets to speak.

“What pic were you talking about? Did you send something?” he asks, still very much concentrated on your nipples.

Wait.

“You didn’t get the AirDrop?” Not this again. The granny across the street probably did get it this time. You want to wrap yourself up in your fluffy warm blanket and permanently disable that stupid phone feature once and for all. No, it’s not a stupid feature. You’re just stupid for using it.

“You’re so fun to fuck with, Y/N,” he laughs right in your face. “Yes, I got your cute little photo.”

“Stop teasing me,” you pout. Here you are, trying to look all hot for him, and he’s still finding ways to fuck with you. He’s so mean.

“I could ask the same of you.” Yoongi slips his index finger into your bralette between your breasts. He tugs on the stretchy band until it snaps back against your skin. “Or maybe you don’t realize what you do to me when I see you like this.”

“I don’t,” you play innocent as you pull him inside and shut the door behind him. You’d love to be enlightened about what your body does to him just by existing. A demonstration would be much appreciated. The more detail, the better.

He pushes you back against the wall in the narrow hallway and pins you there. You try to distract yourself by staring at the tiny speck of coffee on his white sweater but a strong hand cups your chin and lifts it so you can’t run from his gaze. His eyes are dark.“It's so fucked up how many times I’ve gotten off at the thought of my little sister’s friend in nothing but lingerie.”

Funny, you’ve always thought it was fucked up of you to lust over him given how close you’d been throughout your childhood. You cringe at the thought of Mo learning about all the unholy fantasies you’ve had of her brother—him fucking you against the wet walls of his shower, him shoving his cock down your throat until you cry, and even him tying you up on the bed and doing whatever he wants with your body. Your delusional self has thought about it all with him.

But now you know he’s felt the same way all along.

You slide your hands up his chest to his neck as your eyes hone in on his glossy lips. For as long as you could remember, you’ve always wondered what Min Yoongi tastes like. In your dreams, he tasted of creamy vanilla milkshakes. But now, in this moment…?

You lean in and press your breasts into his chest, but he pulls back just before you can get a taste of those lips.

“I always knew you had a thing for me,” he smirks. The teasing never stops. But that’s what you’ve signed your life away for. “If you want to kiss me so bad, say it.”

The stubborn you who “plays hard to get” would never admit that. The you right now, on the other hand, is yearning, desperate, and painfully horny. In this state, you’d get down on your hands and knees so quick.

“I want to kiss you, you ass—” Your mumble is cut off by his lips. They taste like the iced coffee from earlier with a hint of salt. You want more of it.

Your tongue gets tangled with his. It’s sloppy, but you’ve had enough of keeping it clean with him. You’ve played it safe for far too long.

His hands grab your breasts as he lets out a low moan inside your throat. Funny how perfectly your chest fits in his large hands. When he gives them a squeeze, you lean into him more. Anything to get more of his touch.

But then he slides a hand down your belly and works a few fingers around the fabric between your legs. They glide between your folds so smoothly.

“Did you get this wet just from a little kiss and touch? Poor thing.” He holds up the proof of your lust before licking it off his fingers with that tongue. “I thought you’d put up more of a fight.”

The next thing you know, your hoodie is gone and he’s carrying you off to your room. As soon as your back hits the mattress, he climbs on top of you, bombarding you with more kisses until you’re out of breath.

Your hands fidget with the hem of his sweater until he gets the memo that you want it off. Seeing him shirtless is nothing new—you’ve seen him casually walk out of the shower in nothing more towel on multiple occasions while hanging out with Mo next door, hence all your the shower fantasies. But in this context, with him on top of you on your bed, the butterflies just keep coming.

As the two of you continue to makeout, you unzip him. It’s your turn to slip your hand into his pants. He’s huge, just like your fantasies. You’re not sure your inexperienced throat can handle it.

“You haven’t even seen it yet, and you’re drooling,” he purrs when he leans back to get a good look at your current status—starved for his cock. “Does my cute little neighbor love having her mouth filled with cock?”

“I haven’t…” Your words trail off when you see his erection in full. Your hands latch back on to it like gravity. There’s no way this’ll fit down your throat without making you gag. You lick your lips.

“Wait, this isn’t the first time you’re—”

“I’ve had sex,” you clarify. “Just haven’t given a blowjob…” 

It still feels weird to admit these kinds of things to your neighbor. You’ve always been more careful and closed off about your sex life than him. Meanwhile, you swear you’ve heard the whimpers and moans of all the girls he’s pleasured on the other side of your wall. You’ve never heard the sounds he makes during sex, though.

“How innocent. Depriving yourself of tasting it for this long.” Now he’s got a big ol’ smile on his face as you lie on your stomach and kiss along his length. “You won’t be so innocent by the time I’m done with you.”

You don’t want to be innocent with him anymore.

When you finally take him into your mouth, it’s easy. You swirl your tongue around as you bob your head up and down him. The taste isn’t nearly as bad as you’d thought. In fact, you kind of like it. Or maybe you’re just too horny to care. 

But then you decide you want to gag. So you push your mouth further down his length. The slightest tickle against the back of your throat practically has your whole body jerk in protest. You pull back and let yourself breathe before wrapping your lips back around him.

“Hey, easy,” he chuckles, holding your hair back. “Deepthroating is too advanced for you. You’re still a baby.”

You’ll let the baby comment slide only because you’re too focused on sucking his cock. You wouldn’t mind doing this all night. It could easily become your new addiction.

“Mm,” you moan as flick your eyes up at him. His mouth is open, panting, still trying to fight off the feral instincts you so easily gave in to. Whatever you’re doing, it’s working. Not bad for a first-time blowjob.

“So good,” he praises as he watches your mouth working so hard along his length. You’ve finally earned some praise from him. After all these fucking years. “Fuck, you’re so good.”

The next time you come up for air, he wipes his thumb along your lip to clean you up before flipping you over onto your back. You’d love to suck the glaze off his thumb, but the selfish bastard does it for you right in front of your face.

“I know you’ve grown quite attached to sucking my cock, but I’d like to know how your other hole feels, if that’s alright with you.”

You nod, knowing just how soaked your g-string got while sucking him off. After wiggling out of it and tossing it aside, you spread your legs out for him like a well-trained slut.

He uses his fingers again to make sure you’re coated enough. You feel two curl inside you. Then a third. His thumb brushes gently over your clit exactly one time.

“Fuck,” you whimper from the jolt of pleasure. He needs to do it again.

But he doesn’t.

So you run your own two fingers around your clit as his slip in and out of you. He watches the rhythm of your fingers going around and around like a hypnotic spiral. That smirk is creeping back up again.

“So that’s how my neighbor touches herrself,” he nods like the enthusiastic spectator he is. “That’s how you touch yourself for me.”

You continue to tease your little bud as he grabs a condom from the ass pocket of his jeans and slides it down his length. Finally. Fucking finally.

Your horny little body pounces on top of him, your thighs straddling him beneath you. His cock presses against your ass as you strip off your bralette and lean over to kiss him some more. You’d leave him a nice hickey, but you hate the thought of Mo bringing it up as “a byproduct of another one of his meaningless flings.”

Instead of thinking about that, you grab his cock from behind and ease yourself onto him. You’re sure his ego just got a boost from the amount of time it took you to adjust to his size.

“Don’t worry, I’m not gonna be That Guy who comments on your tight little pussy.” Asshole.

Then you start sliding yourself up and down his cock. You gasp immediately. It feels so fucking good to finally have him inside you.

The boy doesn’t waste any time, either. His hands work their way up your waist back to your breasts. He gives your nipples a few pinches and is delighted to learn just how sensitive you are over there. You toss your head back with each little pinch.

As the pleasure builds, you feel him thrusting back beneath you. Your ass is practically bouncing off his thighs with each thrust. If you don’t hold onto his shoulders, you might fall off of him, which would be quite the tragedy because you happen to like the feeling of his cock pounding inside of you. 

“More…” you huff against his neck. “Harder…”

At your request, he gets back on top and takes the lead, ramming himself in and out of you. You knew Yoongi was a strong guy, but you’ve never been fucked this hard before. Perhaps this is what years of all that sexual tension have amounted to.

You let out another loud moan, this time crying out his name. You should be afraid of Mo coming back from Namjoon’s and hearing the way you cry her brother’s name with such lust. You shouldn’t show what a dirty little slut you’ve become for him. But you’re mind isn’t functioning anymore. Not with him fucking you silly like that.

“I’m gonna—” you yelp.

He speeds up and pounds harder into you until you’re overcome by your orgasm. The wave of pleasure washes over you as you feel your walls tightening around him.

“Fuck, Y/N,” he groans, feeling just how tight you can go. He should be grateful for your tight little pussy. Especially if his high was as good as yours.

As you catch your breath, your thoughts start to come back to you. You’re certainly not looking forward to the conversation you’re gonna have to have with Mo later. But you know it was worth it. And you know you don’t regret anything that happened tonight. It was long overdue, anyway.

Yoongi, on the otherhand, might still have his head in the clouds because he’s just lying down on your pillow with the goofiest smile. He’s been smiling a lot more lately.

“Do you remember that time you invited me to your little tea party in here?” he asks out of nowhere.

“No,” you lie. 

Of course you remember it. You were probably five or six and you’d just watched some teen show where the main girl asked her love interest out on a lunch date. Your naive self was inspired to do the same, but with your love interest—your Yoongi. And initially he said no because he’s mean like that. That was your first heartbreak.

But then he turned around later and crashed the tea party you’d set up for your sobbing self and your teddy bear. He claimed he’d only stick around for the shortbread cookies, but you’re starting to think there was more to it.

“Well I do,” he admits. “That was the first time I thought you were kinda cute.”

“Kinda?”

“Yeah, kinda cute. Because you were also an annoying little brat, you know that?” This is just slander.

“Well I appreciate you putting up with this kinda cute annoying brat for all these years,” you mutter. “No one was forcing you to.”

“I know, that’s my point.” He pinches your cheek. “Even if I tried to run, you always somehow found a way to cling onto me. Like a leech.”

“Okay, buddy, I’ve had enough of this slander,” you hiss in his arms under the blankets. “If you’re going to say something nice, just say it already. No more of your dumb leech metaphors.”

“You’ve always had a hold on me, Y/N.” He presses a soft kiss to your forehead—the first of many, you hope. “And I feel like a lot happened in the past day, but that’s only one small part of what this is.”

“This” as in you and him.

“Like one page in a history book,” you chime in. “Or like a chapter in a memoir, or the chorus of a song, or—”

He chuckles at your rambling because it’s apparently “so fucking cute” to him. What else would you expect? If one page in the history book is dedicated to the past 24 hours, 10,000 pages are filled with him teasing you, you chasing him, and everything in between. 

Today simply marks the start of a new era.

[propinqxityreads]

Love can be without limitation

When I first heard that you were writing Sh. last year on Discord, I honestly didn’t know what to expect from it. Would it simply be about a group of friends who, throughout the story, end up having and establishing romantic relationships between them during quarantine as a means to cope? Or, would it be something else, something more? To me, it did become something more than that, and I could already see the potential that you have brought to this story ever since I read the first chapter.  

You know, over the past year or so (holy shit, has it already been a year?) of me more actively engaging in reading fics, I realized that there is a wildly intimate bond between author and reader. Us readers trust authors to take care of us in some way the second we press “follow” or just so happen to read their stories if they come across our timeline (it’s like what came first, the chicken or the egg?), anyways, we trust authors because, in some shape or form, we have leaned toward them because, in a sense, we feel like they’re going to comfort us in some way. Be an escape from the harsh realities of the world at some moment in time (but you, my dear, just so happen to be a mirror and reflect those things back to me, and it’s a blessing and a curse. But, I'll get to that later), but it’s all because in some ways, we are similar. It’s like survival of the fittest and the notion of how we as humans are innately drawn to those who are like us as a means of safety because deep down, we only have ourselves to trust, which is why you don’t really see people reading everything that this site/world holds. I’m not really sure what it’s like from an author’s point of view so I don’t want to speak over you, but I think that this entire thing is beautiful in that sense, and I’ll be forever grateful that my soul has led me to you, Willow, and that in some way, you have been fit to nourish and help me mend any part of me that needs a little bit of loving. 

I feel certain stories are read best during certain times of the day, just like how you may have specific playlists made for a particular mood you're in or for a specific situation. For this chapter specifically, it felt better to read at night. Mainly because it was a little past midnight and I had taken a nap earlier which my circadium rhythym a bit wonky, so I was like ‘what the hell?’. It was dark, and the vibes were nice. I was back home for break, and I could finally use my diffuser that I got not too long ago, so everything just felt good and perfect, and my stomach got butterflies because I felt so relaxed. While I was reading this, everything felt so clear and vivid. Dark black and blue and white but vivid behind my eyelids while I read this. This was honestly one of my favorite parts of this series. 

However, I didn’t expect this chapter to leave me feeling so raw and vulnerable at 2 am. I mean, for one, the main character and Yoongi were pretty raw, if I do say so myself. But it was the pillow-talk that came afterward. The notion of keeping yourself “so tightly together” for an ounce of control (over myself or just life in general) that made me go...fuck...because I knew that this was going to tap at a particular part of me, and as I expected, it did. And I’m glad that it did. I’m so glad. Feelings were being reflected toward me, some that I didnt even know that could be mapped onto me until you wrote about it, and I'm just happy that I had a chance to read those parts (I would highlight all of the sections that got me, but when I came back to edit, I realized that my document is already on page 3 lol, and I would also like to do a little more self-reflecting before I completely write to you about it💜)

I love the fact that the main character is surrounded by friends who truly care for her and take care of her. Whether it's the form of pleasuring her body or taking care of her mind, I'm just happy that she has friends who are so genuine and heartfelt and who are intuitive and pay attention to her and her needs, even when she doesn't exactly know what she might need at that point.

Yoongi is funny, hot, gentle, and calm, but he brews quite a storm in terms of intimacy. He’s gentle with how he talks to the main character, but his words are sharp, and they hold weight because he cares. Taehyung, too, is someone who I admire a lot now because of this chapter. He’s incredibly funny and charming (the part when he texts ‘I forgot how loud you are when you orgasm’ made me laugh because of the timing). Blatant and bold about his affections and the type to make you blush because of how exposing he can be just by his words, he, too, is also very comforting. His talk to her is something that I’ll forever cherish because a lot of what was said could be mapped onto me. It gave me a reason to think more about my affections and how I express love, and I also love how you used snow as a sort of blank space. A new start to the main character’s journey, and I’m so excited to see where this all goes for her. I’m rooting for her so much, and again, I’m really glad that she has people like Yoongi and Taehyung and the others in her life as well to help her. The character growth and introspection shown through the entirety of this series is phenomenal, and I’m so so grateful that I can read a story like this. 

Thank you so much, Willow. You continue to surprise me each and every time I read something of yours because I’m just like ‘how can a piece of writing be this good?!’ My eyes feel undeserving, but I’m thankful for you and for you sharing your writing with us. I adore you. Also, officially, HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!!!!!!!! ILY!!!!💕

sh. | ot7 | chapter five

PAIRING ot7 x reader

RATING Explicit.

GENRE smut. fluff. angst. nonidol au. wildnerness au. roommates au. friends to lovers.

SUMMARY Six months of quarantine have kept you apart. Somehow the distance sparks something new in each of you: questions, unfinished conversations, threads once chased now left cold. So when your roommate invites you to come with him to a mysterious house in the mountains with your friends, how could you even think of saying no?

WC 8k

WARNINGS AND TAGS protected sex. friends with benefits relationship. dirty talk. power play dynamics. angst. semi-public nudity. mentions of open relationship. sexting. reckoning with feelings. talk of alcohol use. 

AN: One million bazillion thanks to the best beta and geologist out there, @hesperantha. Everyday I think to myself, how the fuck would this series exist without this magical lady? And every day I am thankful for her beautiful existence. 

Also, if you haven’t seen /the trailer, you might wanna check it out. Just because I had a lot of fun making it and it was super fun to visualize the characters and their tiny little world. 

Going forward, you can read with they/them pronouns by navigating to the series m.list and reading from there. 

That said, LETS JUMP IN!

Keep reading

[propinqxityreads]

《When you moan his name it’s a poem: words and worlds captured, perfected in two sweet syllables. He wraps an arm around you and holds you tight, relishing the closeness and warmth and wonder you hold, waiting.》

The thought of spending time with the one you love, even if it's for only a moment, can mean a lot for someone. For Yoongi, I feel as though, in a way he had already partially made up his mind on where he would be resting his head before the story even started. Before he could calculate the costs and benefits of what it would mean to choose between his two paths, which is why I loved that part so much. Sometimes people may see relationships as having these extremities and extravagances that collect and help build throughout their time spent together, but I think it's the moments in between. Where it's periods of calm and you're just being that makes every breath shared worthwhile. And I like how Yoongi was too able to make his time worthwhile and spend it with the person he loves, even if it's only for a few hours.

Something is better than nothing in this case, and I love how you wove different aspects of intimacy, the physical with the emotional. The scenes were beautifully done as it was placed between moments of geography vocabulary and puns (oasis, delta, even the title too!! I was also wondering if this is categorized as somnophilia because the main character might sleep like a rock? Ba dumb tsss🥁 I'm sorry😅).

Another moment that I also really liked was the small piece with Yoongi about possibly wearing the other’s shirt. It felt like home where nothing really matters once you step foot through the door, especially in the bedroom where you can let down all of your walls and not be judged (I feel like this is way too deep to be talking about the fact that Yoongi probably was wearing his girlfriend's shirt but it was cute and it made my stomach catch butterflies).

Your writing and diction, along with your alliterations and parallelism throughout, were phenomenal. Everything felt overwhelming in the best way, and I can't wait to read more pieces of yours. I'm sending you lots of love!! You rock!💕💕💕

Bedrock

Pairing: Yoongi x Reader 

Rating: 18+

Genre: It’s just a small, sleepy smut. 

Words: 900

Warnings: somnophilia (partial?), unprotected sex. A schist-load of geology metaphors.

AN: Standard consent disclaimer applies. Fat reader inclusive. Thank you, @talismaniccream for making sure this wasn’t too much of a wreck.

He’s late again, creeping in from the studio just before dawn. He did the math, of course, deciding that a few hours curled on the hard couch wouldn’t be worth it. It would have been easier in theory, and would have saved him the drive, but then he would have woken up alone all too soon, discombobulated and cold and slightly sore. The oasis of your bedroom is infinitely better. Now he slots himself in behind you under the blankets, wedging himself close next to you.

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[propinqxityreads]

Oh my god!! Oh. My. Goddd!!!

I think I understand why you had such a fun time writing this because whew! WHEW!!!! This was so hot and everything that I expected for this fic to be and more. Right now I'm thinking about a lot and I can't get the imagery out of my head, so my mind is a complete mess of Yoongi. So thank you for making my night Lindy. And I hope that you had a very happy birthday😘💕💕💕

make me - myg | m

strawberries on a summer evenin’. baby, you’re the end of June. i want your belly and that summer feelin’, getting washed away in you - watermelon sugar, harry styles

↳ summary- an ordinary sleepover with your best friend turns into anything but ordinary, thanks to your ridiculously loud neighbors above you.

↳ rating- explicit / 18+ / nc17

↳ word count- 4.4k

↳ pairing- yoongi x reader

↳ genre-  pwp lol, smut, fluff, somehow the dirtiest fluff i have ever written bc there’s some depraved shit in here

↳ warnings- penetrative sex, oral sex (m/f receiving), unprotected sex (dont…pls), dirty talk, rough sex, degrading talk, dom/sub undertones, bratty backtalk

↳ a/n- yooooo dawg this… was fun.  i hope you enjoy!!  ive been in my yoongi feels lately uwu. feel free to comment, message, dm, whatever u want babes.  i love you!

Yoongi thinks if he has to hear your upstairs neighbors fuck for another minute longer he might actually go crazy.

It’s been hours now.  The girl is screaming like a feral cat and the man is doing a terrible impression of a porn star, trying his best to talk dirty but really just calling the howling banshee awful names.  

If only his dick would be as annoyed as his brain.

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[bts-ficrecs]

oh. my. god. this series was. ajsdflakj a full on mEAL!!! let me tell you. i was completely filled with the sensation of pure lust while reading this series. not ashamed to admit it. just as yoongi was consumed to the core with his lust for y/n, i was just as consumed and enthralled by them. omg

placing a cut here bc i’m just going to be rambling about the entire series and i don’t want to ruin the fun for new readers lol

i was like AAAHHHLASDKFLAKLFAJF when he offered to get her off in Pt 1. when i realized that he'd been harboring a crush on her for forever in Pt 1 but in his POV i AAHHHDKJFAHKJJDSKAJFAKSF'd even hardere!!! he didnt even touch her and i was so heated. to experience the same story TWICE was djsafjsda a joy. omg . ughg . the fact that he was getting off on how much he was helping her chase after her first orgasm. the fact that she knew he was just as affected as she was. omg when he paused to look at her sjdflaksjf

and then in Pt 2 wHEN HE DID IT AGAIN OOHGGHGD OOO DLAWED when he pressed his erection against her ehwn ethey was makin out. mm mmm. gawed how he worshipped her once he was finally able to touch her. oml ok but not @ how he immediately asked her out after he came in her (pLS. filled her up so gud. im- yes my creampie kink is comin oouuuttt) 

and then in Pt 3 when y/n was being so sappy and in love and then yoongs ofc had to ruin the lovey dovey by being his horny self. loolll. that was funny. and not @ how he brought out the one little thing that started it all, hahaha

this was so hot. but also, i love that it was so easy and natural for them to step into this new relationship together ;w; when he texted her after he woke up late for work asjdfhlakj my heART mELTED!!! 

ugh,,, but not @ how he came in her agAIN in Pt 3. whew. if it isn’t my favorite thing ever with the cutest couple. <<333 

— buzz | 3.0—final (m)

pairing— min yoongi x reader genre/warnings— smut, non-penetrative sex toy (the vibrator’s back, bitches), and some fluff chucked in for good measure words— 6,529

summary—  you’ve been dating your best friend-turned-boyfriend for a few months now. What happens when he can’t nap because of a — as he so lovingly put it, raging boner…?

» 1.0 :: 2.0 :: 3.0  ✓  

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