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casuallyimagining · 1 year ago

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Set Me Free || myg

min yoongi x female reader

Summary: Tired of being told how to live his life and unsure of where he stands in the world, Yoongi--your soulmate--yearns to be free. When you give him what he wants, it causes a rift in your relationship that seems irreparable. 12 years later, you find him back in your life. Can you mend your relationship? Do you even want to? Word Count: 14,377 Genre: friends to enemies to lovers, supernatural au, witch & familiar au, soulmate au, angst, fluff Warnings: death of a parent (brief mention), alcohol, soulmate breakup, smooching

Notes: banner by @itaeewon. thank you to @daechwitatamic and @oddinary4bts for beta-ing and listening to me struggle my way through this. as always. and extra thanks to ella for helping me write Yoongi's letters and to my friend tanya for giving me a super helpful base for the ending.

It’s cold. The late autumn wind rustles through amber-brown-orange-yellow leaves, swirling the fallen ones into little tornadoes that scuttle across the pavement. The cold doesn’t bother Yoongi, necessarily. It’s been a while since he’s been here, in this town, on this street, but even after so much time, his body remembers the chill of November in the same way his feet remember the way to his destination. He shoves his hands deep into his pockets and pauses at the street corner.

It’s strange being back here. He’d once known this neighborhood so intimately, he could map it in his sleep. Not much has changed in the almost 13 years he’s been gone. The park on the corner is the same. The playground, massive to an eight-year-old with a near-infinite imagination, stands resolute, its plastic and paint sun-faded and weathered. Further up the block is the head of the trail that snakes its way through the forest, where he’d spent countless hours playing pirates as a kid and exploring as a teen. And there, at the end of the street, is his destination.

The closer he gets, the more his stomach roils with nerves. Thirteen years since he’d walked down this sidewalk. Thirteen years since he’d walked onto that front porch. Or rather, 12 years, 5 months, and 11 days.

But who’s counting?

There’s a light on in the front room of the house, he can see it through the big window despite the shades being pulled closed. He hesitates. He’s spent days–no, weeks–playing out in his head how this was going to go. In a moment, he’ll know if any of those scenarios were correct. And frankly, right now, he’s terrified.

What if you start to cry? What if you slam the door in his face? What if you hug him? What if you yell at him? What if you don’t answer? What if you want to talk? What if you never want to see him again? What if you invite him in? What if you have someone over?

He takes a deep breath and knocks.

It takes a second. He can hear shuffling around on the other side of the door, so he knows his knock was heard. But the longer it takes, the sweatier his hands get, and the more he considers turning and running away. The door opens before he can make a move.

You stand in the doorway, bathed in the warm light of the living room lamp behind you. And shit, Yoongi doesn’t know what to say. In many ways, you haven’t changed since the last time he saw you, but at the same time, you look so different. He can see in your eyes the moment the realization hits, and your expression changes drastically. You looked tired–and Yoongi can sense that it goes deeper than just physical exhaustion–and you were slouching, but now, you’re standing ramrod straight, and there’s a hard look in your eyes. One he knows all too well.

“Hey.” He raises a hand, offers a wave that, in hindsight, is rather pathetic. You stare at him, unblinking, and slowly, he lowers his hand. “I uh… I heard about your parents,” he says softly, scuffing his shoe against the wood of the porch. “I’m sorry you have to go through it.”

“Brave of you to show up.” You sound almost bored, but Yoongi knows–he senses, in that kind of primal, gut feeling he gets when it comes to you–that it’s an act. “You know I could turn you into a bug and squash you if I wanted to.”

“I know.”

There’s a tense moment where you stare at each other, the scowl you wear pulling your lips downward and creasing your brow. But then you heave an exhausted sigh.

“Why are you here, Yoongi?”

“I…”

I want to apologize.

I’m so sorry.

I miss you.

It all catches in his throat. He coughs in a meager attempt to entice something–anything–to come out of his mouth. “I wanted you to have this.”

He holds out his hands, and in an instant, he’s holding a box. It’s full but not heavy, and he thrusts it out in front of him in your direction.

“A 10-year-old shoebox?” You do nothing to mask your surprise.

“Letters,” he corrects. “You don’t have to read them but… I wanted you to have them.” He pushes the box into your arms, leaving you no choice but to take it. Then, he steps away and nods his head. “Thank you for not turning me into a bug. I am sorry about your parents. I… guess I’ll go.”

Without another word, he trots down the porch steps. And then, in a blink, he’s gone. Disappeared into the night.

You sigh and shut the door, the box he’d given you cradled in the crook of your arm. You don’t have the energy for this right now. Honestly, you aren’t sure that you’ll ever have the energy for it, but certainly not the day before your parents’ funeral.

Whoever had decided that witches and their familiars die together clearly never thought of the ones left behind.

You collapse onto the couch, placing the box beside you. This would be easier if you weren’t alone. It would be easier with Yoongi, your brain supplies less than helpfully. You curse yourself. You curse him. After all these years, you thought you were over it, over the abandonment, over the betrayal. But all it takes is for him to show his stupid face, and you can feel it all bubbling up anew. Angrily, you push the box off the couch. It explodes when it hits the floor, what seems like thousands of pieces of paper tumble out and scatter from the force.

The forest was almost silent as you stalked the trail. Not even the birds were happy that day. Twigs snapped under your feet. You weren’t even paying attention to where you were going, your feet carrying you along the path that you’d hiked countless times before. You needed to get away, to escape, to calm down. But you couldn’t, because what you were running away from was hot on your heels.

“Would you slow down?” You could hear the frustration in Yoongi’s voice as he followed you. You ignored him. “Goddamnit,” he breathed, picking up his pace. “Will you at least listen to me?”

Quite frankly, you didn’t care what he had to say in that moment.

“It wouldn’t be a permanent thing,” he continued. “I just… I don’t know. I need to do this.”

You stopped, sliding a little on the damp new growth below your feet. “What the fuck are you talking about? You’re not being oppressed, Yoongi. No one’s stopping you from going out and exploring the world.”

“Maybe this way of life isn’t for everyone. Maybe not everyone wants their whole existence to be predetermined at birth. Maybe not everyone wants the universe to choose who they’re supposed to be with and how they’re supposed to live.”

His words stung, and until then, you weren’t quite sure why. Rejection. Not just of how you lived, and who he was, and how things had always been. But of you. Yoongi was your familiar, you were destined to be together in some way since you were six years old and the bond gem first appeared. Not all witches and familiars were in romantic relationships–your parents were, sure, and Yoongi’s parents–but plenty of them had other partners, lives separate from each other. Platonic soulmates navigating the world together.

Until a few months before, you’d been content with that. There was no doubt you’d been best friends from the jump. You’d been practically inseparable through school. Then, months before, he’d kissed you at the winter market. Right there in the park, under the aurora. Before that, you hadn’t thought of him as any more than your best friend. But the kiss had unlocked something inside you. And now…

Now he wanted you gone.

“You want to be free that badly?” By some miracle, your voice sounded positively venomous, even though you felt like you could crumble at any moment. “Fine.”

“Wh-”

There’s a saying your mother told you once, back when you were a child. You and Yoongi had found a turtle in the woods, stuck in the mud. His little turtle leg had been hurt, and you’d rushed it to your mother immediately. Familiars were excellent with animals, and she was no exception, healing the turtle in days when it should have taken weeks. You and Yoongi had both cried when you had to release it back into the wild–you’d both so wanted it to be your friend. ‘If you love something, set it free,’ your mother had said, ‘Sometimes it’s the kindest option.’

Kinder for whom?

The chain around your wrist snapped easily when you wrapped your fingers around it. The incantation meant to keep the bond gem safe became meaningless as soon as you wanted it gone. You couldn’t remember the last time you’d been without it around your wrist. You loved it, with its gem of swirling, inky black and navy blue. It reminded you so much of Yoongi, deep and calm and unwavering.

Without a word, you tossed the bracelet to the ground. Yoongi’s eyes widened as it hit and the gem cracked. For good measure, you stepped on it, crushed it into dust. There was a pitiful swirl of blue magic that puffed up from the dirt. When you moved your foot, there was nothing left of the bond gem or its chain.

“What the fuck?” Yoongi’s eyes were glassy when you finally looked at him. He looked almost as crushed as you felt. “What the fuck?”

“You’re free.” And this time, you couldn’t hide your sadness behind your anger.

He didn’t follow you as you walked away, and honestly, it was for the best. It was faint, but you could still feel his emotions, and you weren’t sure you could handle that kind of heartache in person.

There is paper everywhere. Hundreds of pieces, folded neatly in thirds. You have no idea how Yoongi had fit them all into the shoebox. He must’ve enchanted it. Groaning, you start to pick them up.

Letters, he’d said. You flip through some as you gather them up. Now that they’re on the floor, they aren’t in any particular order, but it quickly becomes clear that these letters span years. There are some from 12 years ago, written shortly after he’d left. Some are more recent. You stare at one, from December of the year he left. Glancing through it, you expect it to unearth your anger, your rage. But it doesn’t. Just like seeing him again, all Yoongi’s letter brings is sadness. Grief.

You’d spent the past 12 years grieving. Sure, he hadn’t died, but when he left, you’d lost the closest relationship you would ever have. In 17 years, you’d grown so accustomed to having him there, that when he was gone, there was a Yoongi-sized hole left in your life that you had to learn to fill. And you did your best, sewing yourself back together and moving on. But it wasn’t the same.

Glancing through his letter, it seems you weren’t the only one struggling. You aren’t sure if that’s a comfort or not.

It’s been almost a year since the night market–one year since everything started crumbling around us. I still remember it like it was yesterday. It felt right in the moment, didn’t it? I really thought you would understand.

I’ve tried to figure out where things went wrong. But shit, I can’t wrap my head around it. Why did you react like that when I told you I just wanted to be free?

At the end of the day, I guess we didn’t understand each other as much as I thought we did. As much as this bond brings us together, I guess it doesn’t reveal everything. But… that night I just wanted to kiss you, and so I did. Maybe it was selfish. Sometimes I wish the bond didn’t exist, that we could just be free to choose things for ourselves. That we weren't forced into what the universe wants from us… Maybe that’s selfish, too.

Why couldn’t you understand? I just wish I could turn back time and make you understand. Maybe then you wouldn’t hate me, and maybe then I’d stop hating myself too.

Because watching you destroy the gem nearly killed me, but it wasn’t half as bad as watching you walk away. Should I have run after you?

Would you still be there if I had?

You sigh and lean back against your couch. That damn night market. You hadn’t been back to it since the year he’d kissed you. It’s silly, but a part of you blames it for everything that happened. Because Yoongi’s letter is right. It had marked the beginning of everything going wrong. It wouldn’t change anything, but there’s a part of you that won’t listen to logic, that refuses to believe that maybe, if he hadn’t kissed you–if you hadn’t kissed him back–he wouldn’t have left.

The night market was beautiful. It always was, but that year was particularly beautiful. The park had been decorated in all of its sparkling, winter glory. Candles twinkled in the trees, suspended by sheer force of will. Through some magic you weren’t familiar with, they’d enchanted the sky, and an aurora shimmered far above, slowly swirling in greens and blues and purples. Snow fell gently, and you weren’t sure if it was natural, or if it was also magic.

You browsed the various tents and tables, going from one to the other to see the different things people were selling. Some had crafts, others baked goods, and some were even selling things like potion ingredients and spellbooks. There were a few tables dedicated to familiars–books on shifting and specialty items and insets and jewelry for bond gems.

Yoongi followed you closely, clutching a hot chocolate. You knew he wasn’t cold, the temperature was nowhere near low enough for either of you to be uncomfortable, but the way his fingers tapped against the paper cup, you knew something was up. You could sense his anxiety, could feel it in the pit of your own stomach.

“Want to go sit?” you asked softly, gesturing over to the picnic tables they’d set up under one of the sparkling trees.

His eyes widened. “No, that’s okay. You’re looking.”

“I’m done. Let’s go sit.”

“I-” He deflated a little and didn’t argue further, allowing you to lead him over to one of the tables.

You sat side by side on the bench, backs against the table, and watched the snow fall around you. The night was peaceful, quiet for the most part except for the occasional laughter that bubbled up. Most of the older crowd had left, leaving only the teens and young adults to explore the market. You watched the other festival goers in silence, Yoongi’s arm pressed against your own.

“You okay?” you asked softly, bumping your shoulder into his own.

Yoongi being quiet was nothing new. He was an observer, a listener, he took in information like a sponge. Which wasn’t to say that he was never loud and boisterous, that he didn’t talk incessantly to the people he cared about. But he was absolutely the calmest presence you’d ever been around, even compared to the adults in your life.

But you could sense what he was feeling, could feel his nerves and unease and conflict. And you knew that he’d rather explode than burden anyone with his feelings. So you prodded. Ever so gently. Because he was your best friend, and when he was suffering, you were too.

He stayed quiet, and when you turned to look at him, he was much closer than you were expecting. A moment passed. You shared a look. You’d always thought that Yoongi’s eyes were pretty, but in the twinkling light of the candles above, they were deep pools of warm, dark cedar and flecks of honey. Slowly, subtly, he leaned in–or maybe you did, you weren’t sure– as though some mysterious force was drawing you together. An emotion flashed in his eyes, but you couldn’t quite take the time to consider what it may have been because he was kissing you. Lips chapped from the bitter wind moulded against your own for the shortest of moments. It was tentative and delicate and brief, but as he pulled away, your mind reeled.

That day had affected you in ways you never would have expected. Before, you’d never considered Yoongi as anything more than your best friend, the platonic other half of yourself. And then the kiss, and suddenly, it was like you’d been awakened. For as long as you could remember, your thoughts had been filled with Yoongi. Of the things he liked, the things he didn’t, of spending time with him, of the academy (with him). Suddenly, you were suspecting that maybe there was more to that, more than just the bond of a witch and their familiar.

You sigh. The letters are all finally back in the box, though nowhere near as nicely as they’d been before you’d kicked it and it had exploded. You should get up. You should go to bed. You have to be up fairly early for the funeral. But you stay seated, the box of letters in your lap.

Seeing him again was hard. You’re willing to admit that. You’d spent 12 years convincing yourself that you were fine, harboring anger and resentment and frustration, all for it to melt away the second you saw him. The bond makes it tough to stay mad at him, but it doesn’t let you forget the betrayal.

You stand out of the way, looking out over the funeral attendees in the park. Your parents didn’t have a lot of friends, but there are enough people here that you’d officially call it a crowd. They’re all mingling–you’d bought beer and wine, and if you didn’t know any better, it could maybe be a party and not a wake. You tighten your fist around the bond gem in your hand. For as long as you could remember, your dad had worn it around his neck, tucked under his shirt. The gem is like your mother–bright pink, fiery orange, deep yellow–and when you were a child, you’d loved to look at it, mesmerized by the swirling, glittering colors.

The gems have always been a gift from a familiar to their witch, given to symbolize the soulmate-like bonds between them. Most witches–especially those who were romantically involved with their familiars–wear them as jewelry. They don’t really do anything, though some people claim it made their magic stronger (you aren’t really sure about that, seeing as most gems appear in childhood).

As a child, you hadn’t been particularly close with your parents. Especially as a teen, you would have much rather hung out with Yoongi than them. But they were kind, and supportive, and for the most part, they left you to do your own thing. They’d been almost as devastated as you when you’d crushed your bond gem.

Days after your fight with Yoongi, the doorbell rang. Your mother had opened the door. You were upstairs. You’d stayed home from school that day–sick, but not in the way the administrators would have accepted. For a few brief moments, you’d ignored whatever visitor was downstairs. But then-

“She’s not here.” Your mother’s voice drifted up to you. She sounded disappointed.

“Please.” It was Yoongi, you’d recognize his baritone from miles away.

Quietly, you’d slipped out of your room and crept down the hall, sitting at the top of the stairs. You could hear your mother sigh, could see her shift her weight from one foot to the other. Your father appeared from the kitchen and joined your mother at the door.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea right now,” he said, shaking his head. He leaned against the doorknob, pulling it a little more shut in the process so it blocked you completely from the door’s sight.

A long moment of silence passed before your mother called, “Yoongi?” You couldn’t hear his response–he must have already gone down the porch steps. Your mother continued, “It can be scary, and you’re both still young. Give it time.”

The door shut quietly, and both of your parents looked to where you were sitting. You could see it in both of their eyes. Sadness, but something else. Something that looked a little close to pity.

A laugh draws your attention, and you smile sadly as you watch your mother’s coworkers laugh at some memory. But then you notice, just behind them, a shadow close to the ground and suddenly, you’re distracted all over again. Because there, half-hidden by a bush, sits a black cat. Cedar and honey eyes watch you intently, its dark fur swirling and shining like a thousand galaxies. Your hand tightens around your parents’ bond gem, the chain pressing sharply into the flesh of your hand.

He doesn’t move, just sits there patiently. Watching. He’s there as people approach you, offering condolences and hugs that you don’t particularly want; he’s there when people start trickling out. And he’s there when you’re the last one left, all alone under the large oak tree in the center of the park.

It’s quiet as you stand there, staring down at the bond gem in your hands. This is the part you’ve been dreading. Because you don’t want to keep the damn thing–you could if you wanted to, but there’s also tradition to think about. But it’s also weird to give up the one thing that is so emblematic of your parents. You wonder if they’d felt like this when your grandparents had died.

At least they’d had each other during it.

You can sense him approach, even though his steps are completely silent. And though he comes closer, he keeps his distance. On one hand, you appreciate it. On the other…

“If you’re going to be here, the least you could do is be here,” you say quietly, looking down at the gem in your hand. It sparkles a little in the light.

Thankfully, he doesn’t ask you to explain. He takes a few slow steps forward until he’s standing beside you. It’s weird, having him this close again. You’d been too overwhelmed last night to actually observe, but now, you’re exhausted, yet alert.

His hair is longer–as a teen, he’d kept it short, but the ends curl and sit just above his shoulders now. He’s filled out and put on some muscle, and though he’s still a little on the lankier side, his shoulders have broadened. He wears cologne now, the scent light, like lavender, citrus, and sage. So much has changed, and yet it’s the same eyes that watch you with a soft curiosity.

You look up to the tree, watch its branches wave in the wind. You used to think that the centenarian boughs touched the sky, and even still, it towers above everything else in the park. The leaves sparkle, their iridescence catching the light to make the tree look like something out of a fairy tale. You sigh and tighten your fist around your parents’ bond gem one more time before opening your hand.

At first, nothing happens, but then the gem glistens and rises out of your grasp. It joins the other leaves close to the top of the tree, becoming just another sparkle in the prism.

For a while, not even the birds make a noise. You just stand there, looking up at the tree that has stood sentinel over most of your life. The wind rustles the leaves, and they shimmer as they move. You have no idea how many leaves are up there, how many bond gems have been placed over time. Thousands–maybe hundreds of thousands–of witches and their familiars, most forgotten to the annals of time.

It’s strange, knowing that you would never be memorialized by the tree.

“Let me buy you a coffee,” Yoongi whispers from beside you, husky baritone cutting through the silence.

Yoongi isn’t sure why you say yes, but soon enough, you’re walking into the Green Bean just behind him. He’s uncomfortable, people have been watching you since the park, and their stares are starting to burn holes in his back. He says nothing about it until you’re in line at the cafe.

“What are they staring at?” he whispers, leaning close so that only you can hear in the semi-busy cafe. He chooses to ignore how you tense up ever so slightly.

“You’ve been gone for 12 years, what did you expect?”

Right. He supposes he should have expected their animosity. But it’s not just him they’re watching. He doesn’t miss the way people stare at you, watch you warily as you simply exist. His mind races. Was that his fault? Did his absence cause so many unintended consequences?

You order a coffee and choose a table in the far corner of the cafe, away from everyone but still near the window. He sits in the chair across from you, the hard metal shockingly comfortable despite its harsh lines. An awkward silence settles over you both, but Yoongi’s not sure what to say, so he lets it linger. He watches you stare out the window. Which is a little weird, right? But he can’t bring himself to drag his gaze away. It’s like after 12 years of being away, he just wants to look at you.

The barista calls out your orders and Yoongi stands to grab both of them from the counter. He places one oversized ceramic mug down in front of you, and the other, he wraps his hands around. It’s warm, almost hot, and he dares not take a drink yet. You stare down at the foam on top of your drink, one finger hooked around the handle of the cup.

“What happened to them?” he asks softly. When you look up, surprised, he clarifies. “Your parents, I mean. I… didn’t hear how they…”

You sigh, tap your mug. He can sense the deep sadness you struggle with and is just about to tell you to forget he asked when you speak. “I always kind of thought it would be dad who’d go first.” Your voice is barely above a whisper. “He was always so frail when we were kids. But mom got sick last year and…” You shrug. “One of the neighbors found them.”

“I’m so sorry.” You wave him off. “No. Honestly. They were nice.”

“Thanks.”

He nods, and silence settles again. But then something you said pops into his mind, striking him as strange. “You aren’t living here anymore?” Mentally, he slaps himself. Why did it come out like he’s surprised? He supposes that he’s always just kind of pictured you still… here, in town.

“I’m over in Ashland,” you say, generally gesturing west, toward the city. “I work at the library at the university.”

“Yeah?” He raises his eyebrows. “How’s that?”

You shrug. “Mostly good. It’s a job. The library’s usually pretty quiet, so…”

“That’s really cool.”

Ashland is big, much bigger than here in square feet and at least 10 times the people. It’s a real city, with skyscrapers and functioning public transportation and one of the country’s top medical universities. He’s proud of you, he realizes. You’d always planned to leave for the city, too constrained by life in such a small town. For the longest time, he’d planned on going with you. And then, of course, he’d ruined it. It stings a little to know that you’d gone without him like that, that your life had continued as planned, that maybe he hadn’t meant that much in the grand scheme of things.

But then your eyes meet, and he’s confronted by the anxiety and sadness you’re feeling, and he knows he’s just being stupid. Again.

“So, uh…” He feels a wave of nerves wash over him–they aren’t his own. You tap your half-empty mug. “What have you been up to?”

If he’s honest, Yoongi wasn’t expecting you to ask about him. He’s shocked enough that you’d even agreed to be here, let alone that you were interested in his life. “I was traveling,” he starts cautiously, gauging your reaction. You blink slowly, watching his every move. If you can sense his apprehension, you don’t react. “But now I’m up north in Ulmae. I’ve got a pretty good thing going at this restaurant on the North Shore.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, uh…” He chuckles, a little nervous. “They’ve got me bartending on the weekends and let me do music during the week.”

Your eyes widen a little, and you lean forward. “They let you play?”

“It’s only like an hour a night-”

“No, shut up. That’s amazing!” You grin, big and genuine, but Yoongi can sense a tinge of sadness in it.

He’s disappointed when you both finish your coffees and you stand up to put your cup in the little tub by the counter. It’s starting to get late, the sun is starting to set and the streetlights have turned on. It was nice, catching up with you, short though it may have been. It’s not lost on him how strange it is, having to catch up with someone that was once practically a part of him.

Together, you stand outside in the chilly early evening air, looking down the street toward the park. Over the roofs of the shops and houses, Yoongi can just barely see the centinel tree with its sparkling leaves. People walk past–people he recognizes but couldn’t possibly name–some are more subtle about it, but others practically break their necks to stare at the two of you. Suddenly, Yoongi feels exposed outside the cafe, like there are eyes everywhere. He hates this, hates feeling like he’s doing something wrong just for wanting to talk to you more.

You sigh, scuff your shoe against the concrete of the sidewalk, shove your hands deep into the pockets of your dark jeans. “I… probably shouldn’t even ask,” you start warily. “But do you want to come back for a drink?”

The house is the same, yet somehow also different, like one of those spot the difference puzzles come to life. The layout of the living room is the same, but the couch is a different style and color. There’s a blanket folded the same way under the coffee table, but it’s clearly a different pattern than he remembers. Most of the photos are the same, but there are 12 years’ worth of more of them.

Apparently, the stash of alcohol your father kept in the built in cabinet beside the television hasn’t changed.

You pull out a bottle of whisky and two glasses, setting them on the coffee table with a gentle ‘clink.” The shoebox he’d given you sits on the floor. The lid is off, the letters contained within are a mess. Have you read them, or did they spill out? There’s no way for him to really know.

Silently, you hand him a glass and sit on the other side of the couch, grabbing one of the throw pillows to hug in your lap. You sip at the double in your glass stoically, and for a moment, you stare at him. He has to resist the urge to squirm under your gaze. There’s something different about how you’re sitting, something in your aura that he didn’t notice in the cafe. Maybe you’d been saving it for private, but he can sense that you’re reining your emotions in.

But then finally, after what feels like an eternity, you turn over your hand. Two pieces of paper sit in your palm. “I’m going to need you to explain these.” The two letters float over to him and open themselves in front of him.

The first is dated only a few years after he’d left.

I’ve been struck by a thought. I had tacos earlier, and I just know you would have loved them. Which made me realize that there’s still part of me that thinks about you at every turn. Your friendship was such an integral part of my life, and not having it anymore feels like there’s a piece missing. Last week it was a song on the radio. Before that, a stray cat I saw that I know for certain you would have loved. Everything reminds me of you, everything leads back to you. You’re everywhere and nowhere, and…

I would like to see you again. Someday.

How have you been doing? Where has your life taken you? I can only hope it’s treated you kindly. It’s what you deserve.

The other is from the day he turned 25.

A quarter of a century, and for some reason I feel incredibly old. With it comes some realizations, things I didn’t understand before. Maybe I was too young, too blinded by my own need to feel free… but it never was about being free from you. I can’t even begin to imagine how hurtful it must have been for you…

I never wanted to make you feel like I was giving up on you, like I didn’t want you. I never wanted to make you feel rejected, because it wasn’t you I was trying to be free from.

I was so scared of having my whole life laid out in front of me. I never took the time to think what my life could be with the bond–I only ever thought about what the bond meant for my life. All of the expectations, what comes with being a familiar, our roles in society and the universe…

I realize now that I could have–should have–communicated it all better. If only so that I wouldn’t have lost you. So that it wouldn’t have led to me making you feel like I was rejecting you. Maybe it wouldn’t have mattered; at the end of the day I was still walking away from you. But at least maybe I could have made it more clear that it was never you that I wanted to be free from.

I’m sorry. I feel like it’s useless to say, but I am so sorry for not realizing any of this before.

Wherever you are, I hope you’ll understand. Take care until I see you again.

I hope I see you again.

Yoongi sighs. The letters–all of them, not just these two–tended to be rambling diatribes, a snapshot of his thoughts as he worked through his feelings about his own life and everything and you. He’d been an idiot when he left–he was 17 and full of himself and terrified of the world but too proud to admit it–and it had taken him far too long to realize a lot of important things.

For a moment, it’s quiet as he thinks of what to say. How should he even begin? But apparently, he’s quiet for too long, because you wave your hand and the letters fold themselves back up and float back down to the shoebox. When you speak, you sound exhausted. “Why are you here, Yoongi?”

“I-”

“Because if the roles were reversed, I don’t know that I’d have the balls to come back. On one hand, I’m impressed. On the other…” You trail off and shrug.

He’s quiet, not sure how to respond. He’s got lots of thoughts, lots of feelings–of course he does–but right now, you’re a wall, and he’s not sure how to read the situation. He’s not sure what you need to hear right now. So he says nothing.

You laugh, but there’s no humor in it, and you look down at the glass in your hand, stare into the dregs of the amber whisky you’ve nearly finished. “I’m running on like two hours’ sleep,” you admit. “But fuck, Yoongi, I… I was so convinced that I’d never see you again. I wasn’t sure I wanted to.” Then, softer. “I’m still not sure.”

“Why?” It’s out of his mouth before he can even think and god, he just wants the Earth to open up and swallow him whole.

It takes a second for you to process his absolute trash heap of an asinine question. But when you do, your face contorts into somewhere between anger, disappointment, and heartbreak. “What do you mean, ‘why’?” You practically spit the question at him. “You… you… Do you know what it’s like to have the most important person in your life tell you that he wants rid of you?”

“I never said-”

“You wanted to be free. From all of it. From me.” You pick at the corner of the pillow in your lap. “And then you just come back out of the blue like nothing happened and drop this damn shoebox at my feet-” from where it sits on the floor, the shoebox explodes, letters flying everywhere, “-and you just… What did you expect, Yoongi? What do you want?”

“I don’t know!” He sounds a little desperate when he says it, and he hates that, hates how pathetic it makes him sound. So he shrugs, takes a deep breath, leans back a little. “I don’t know,” he repeats. “I just… I missed you. And then mom told me about your parents, and…” He runs a hand through his hair, pushing it back off his forehead and out of his eyes. “And then I was on a train.”

You stare at him for a moment, a little gobsmacked. You have no idea how to respond. What do you say to that? Where do you even start? There are a hundred things you could say. You’ve played this scenario out a thousand times in your head over the years–what would you do if he came back?–but somehow, it never played out like this. In your mind, he’d never told you that he missed you.

You’d never considered that he would miss you.

But you should say something, right? It’s weird that you’re sitting there, just staring at him in complete silence. Has your jaw been clenched the whole time? Does he think you’re angry with him? Quickly, you school your face into something a little more neutral and say the first thing that comes to mind.

“How long are you here for?”

Truthfully, you probably should have asked sooner. You’ve been wondering since he showed up on your doorstep last night, but it never seemed like a great time to ask.

He sighs. “‘Till tomorrow.”

You nod, probably longer than it makes sense to, but it takes you a bit to process. Tomorrow. He’s back in your life for two days, and then he’s gone again. That’s not even enough time to catch up, let alone actually talk with him. And that’s… you aren’t sure how to feel.

Yoongi watches you quietly and takes a sip of his drink. He’s barely touched it. “Maybe…” he says after a moment, leaning forward to put his glass on the coffee table. “Maybe I should go?”

Part of you wants to tell him no, to ask him to stay, to tell you more about his gig working at the bar. Anything to keep him here and talking to you. But there’s a more logical part of you that’s overwhelmed, that needs some time to think. He’s offering to go, which means that he’s either uncomfortable or his train leaves early in the morning. Or both. He stands, thanks you for the drink, and you follow him to the door. He hesitates just outside, opens his mouth as if to say something and closes it almost as quickly.

You say nothing. And for the second time in as many days, you watch him leave without another word.

The playground was almost empty. Mama said it was supposed to rain, but she’d also said that you would go anyway, for a little bit. You were trying to learn how to swing on your own, and plus Yoongi and his mom were going to be there, and he’d said he’d bring his trucks to play in the sand.

But he wasn’t there yet, so you were on the swing. Mama pushed you, her hand firm on your back, and you closed your eyes. You were flying, wind in your face as you launched forward into the air. And then, just as suddenly, you were falling, swinging backward.

“Remember what I said,” mama said softly. “Kick your legs.”

You weren’t quite sure what she meant by that. Your legs were little, and when you kicked out, you felt more like you were going to slide out of the swing seat than anything. You heard her laugh a little, but her hand was on your back once again, propelling you forward.

A few minutes passed in a blur of forwards and backwards. You still didn’t quite understand the whole swinging on your own thing, but mama’s rhythmic pushes kept you going. But then, a small voice at the edge of the playground yelled your name, and you heard excited footsteps in the wood chips. Mama helped you slow to a stop, and you jumped off the swing.

A little boy, his dark hair cut short by his own mom, ran toward you. He was carrying an armful of small cars and larger trucks. He skidded to a stop in front of you, a wide, gummy grin engulfing his face and crinkling the corners of his eyes.

“I brought all my trucks!” he announced, looking down at the toys in his arms. “You can be the green one. Here.” He tried to hand it to you, and another fell in the process.

You picked it up and took the green truck from him. It was bright green–the same shade as the lime popsicles Yoongi’s mom usually bought–and it had big wheels. You followed him to the sandbox and you both plopped down. It didn’t take long to have a whole city constructed. Granted, it was all made from rocks and wood chips and other small things you found around the sandbox. But it was a city and it was beautiful.

Yoongi drove his truck over a bump, making engine noises as he pushed it toward you. As he drove the truck down another sand hill, bumping and bouncing it over sticks and rocks, something fell out of the sleeve of his jacket. It was perfectly round, and it rolled to a stop in front of you. You picked it up and inspected it. It was some kind of rock, hard and shiny, but it was also colorful, and you were pretty sure rocks couldn’t be blue.

One look at the rock and he frowned, calling for his mom. She came over immediately and crouched down to see what he was so concerned about. Your mama followed her, and she was the one that saw the rock in your hand first.

“Oh,” she said, her hand gently smoothing down your hair. “You two have found your gem.”

“Wha’s that mean?” Yoongi asked, looking up at his mom.

She smiled and sat in the sand beside him, pulling him into her lap. She held out her arm, twisted her bracelet around so that he could see it. “You know how I have this from your dad? It’s like that.”

“But-”

“Your friendship is special,” she continued, pinching his cheek. Yoongi laughed. “It means you’ve gotta look out for each other now.”

For a moment, he was quiet. But then he nodded, just once. “Okay!” He held out his hand to you, tiny palm face up. “Can I have it?”

“It’s not yours anymore,” his mom said softly, brushing his short hair back. “It’s a gift.”

You looked to your mama and she nodded. “Take care of it,” she told you. “You only get one.”

Middle school was the worst. Everything was difficult. Social situations, interactions with your parents, school. At the time, it all seemed like it was unfairly hard. Making it worse, of course, was getting sick. As a kid, you were never sick that often. Yoongi was a different story. For whatever reason, familiars were just more susceptible to illness, and when he got sick, he got sick.

It was the middle of the semester, and Yoongi hadn’t been to school in days. Your teachers hadn’t even asked, they’d just started giving you packets–homework and printouts of their lessons and extra materials–so he wouldn’t fall behind. So you stopped by his house after school. His mom let you in, offering you some of the snacks she was making for Yoongi before you headed up the stairs to his room.

You knocked gently before entering. The knock was a politeness–you were close enough with him and familiar enough with his room at this point in your life that you could just barge in without warning and you knew he wouldn’t mind. He looked like hell, stuck in his bed buried in blankets. It was clear he’d had a fever at some point, because his hair looked damp and sweaty.

But he sat up when you walked in, coughing deeply before speaking. “You’re going to get sick, too,” he protested weakly.

You waved him off. “Everyone’s sick.” You pulled over his desk chair to the side of his bed and started to go through your bag. “Ms. Miller gave me your math homework, but if you understand it, you’ll have to explain it to me because I have no idea what she’s talking about.” He giggled at that, gummy smile soon hidden by his hand as he coughed. “Here’s the novel for Brown’s class. She said she’d talk to you about making up the paper when you’re back.”

It took a surprisingly long time to go through eight classes’ worth of homework and assignments, but you’d put sticky notes at the front of each packet explaining things, too, so the fact that he was half-asleep for most of your explanation didn’t really matter.

“Will you stay?” he asked when you were done. “Help me with some of this?”

“What happened to not wanting me to get sick?” you teased.

“I mean, you don’t have to. If you want to go home, that’s fine, too. I just-” He coughed, burying his face in his blankets.

“You staying for dinner, hon?” Yoongi’s mom called from the bottom of the stairs.

“Yes please!” you responded, shuffling through the stack of packets you’d brought for Yoongi. “Wanna take a stab at math?”

Halfway through the fall of your senior year, Yoongi started to get… weird. Cagey. Like he was trying to hide something and figure out particle physics at the same time. You’d tried asking him about it a few times, only for him to wave you off with a quiet “just thinking about some things.” After that, he’d be back to normal for a few days. But every time, like clockwork, he would fall back into it.

Finally, on the third day of the new year, he pulled you aside. Tucked back into the dormant foliage of the park, away from prying eyes, he stood, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. He was nervous, you could feel it deep inside you, but to be honest, you didn’t really need your bond to tell you what was plain to see.

“I…” He trailed off, unsure of how to continue. His brows furrowed in thought, and after a moment, he motioned for you to sit. “I need to tell you something.”

“Okay?” You sat on the edge of a big rock, confused.

“I…” he started again, sitting beside you. You could feel a spike of nerves, and he took a breath to steady himself. “I’ve been doing a lot of thinking, and I think… fuck, this is harder than I thought it would be.”

“You can just say it,” you told him. “It’s just me.”

He nodded and mumbled something that sounded a lot like ‘that’s the problem,’ but after a moment, he continued. “I need to be free of all of this.”

“What?”

“Haven’t you ever thought that maybe the universe doesn’t know what it’s talking about? That maybe you’d be happier if you chose things for yourself?” He frowned. “There’s rules for gifts. We’re only good at certain types of magic because of how we were born. We have to celebrate holidays certain ways, we have to do specific things on our birthdays-”

“-and we get told who we’re to bond to.”

He recoiled at your words. “That’s not-”

“But it’s true, right?” Your gaze fell from him to your hands. “It’s just one more thing you don’t get to control.”

Yoongi sighed. “I just… want to be able to choose for myself.”

Suddenly, you were sick to your stomach. This was the last thing you’d expected. You didn’t particularly like all of the traditions, either, but you were 17. What the hell were you going to do about it? But this felt like he was saying he didn’t want you. You hadn’t yet talked about the kiss at the night market a few weeks prior, but you’d never guessed that he’d do such a sudden about-face.

“Right,” you said softly.

“Just… think about it?” he asked, dark eyes pleading.

You didn’t like where this was going, didn’t like how it made you feel. But you nodded anyway. Maybe he would change his mind.

Days gave way to weeks and months, and before you knew it, spring had come. Yoongi hadn’t changed his mind. If anything, he’d gotten more insistent.

“I want to find myself,” he’d told you once. “I need to make sure this is how I want to live my life.”

“I just need to get away,” he’d said one day while you were doing homework together. “Start fresh somewhere new.”

And then, on the way home from school one day, he’d said, “I need to be free of it all.”

And you’d snapped. Three months of hearing him talk about it, three months of him basically saying that your entire way of life was wrong and that he was chafing to get away. You couldn’t help it.

“Fuck off,” you’d told him, taking the trail behind the houses at a faster pace. Despite being so attuned with nature thanks to his familiar genes, he’d had trouble keeping up with you.

He’d pushed. And eventually, you’d given in. Because despite everything, you’d loved him, and if he was unhappy, you wanted to fix that. And now…

Now you’re sitting alone at the train station at ass o’clock in the morning. The train station has just barely opened, and already you’re inside, clutching a cup of coffee. There are a few other people here, milling around, waiting for their early trains to god knows where. You can feel them watching you, can feel them trying to make it subtle that they’re staring. At this point, you’re used to it. Word travels fast in small towns, especially when that word is as earth-shattering as a broken bond gem and a falling out between a witch and their familiar.

You try to ignore them, focus on your coffee and the posters across the waiting area from you.

Report any unattended or suspicious luggage to National Rail personnel.

Bags larger than this poster must be checked into the train’s luggage car.

Please remain seated until your train is announced and National Rail personnel give authorization to enter the platform.

You scroll through the news on your phone. Read the posters again. Stare out the window at the coffee shop across the street. And wait. A train arrives, and the couple that had been staring at you leaves. You sigh and stand to throw out your now empty cup.

Just as you do, the door to the train station opens. You turn to look, and there stands Yoongi. He’s wearing a black shirt, a bag slung across his body. His hair is pushed back off his face and he’s wearing his glasses. He’s clutching an absolutely massive travel mug and his phone in one hand, the other rolls a small suitcase behind him. He looks sleepy, but the second his dark eyes land on you, he jolts a little, as if electrocuted into being awake and alert.

“Hey,” he says cautiously, approaching you.

“Hey.” You wave slightly–awkwardly.

“What are you doing here?” His voice is soft, still a little gruff from sleep. You get the sense that maybe he hasn’t said much of anything to anyone this morning.

You sigh and gesture for him to follow you to a bench. The next train–his, you presume–isn’t due for another 20 minutes. You have time, but not much.

“I didn’t like how we left things,” you admit. “I… I wasn't sure if you were serious.”

“Serious?” His head falls to the side slightly, confused. But then, it seems, he understands, and he nods. “I did miss you–I do. I spent the entire ride here thinking about how seeing you again was going to go.”

“Were you right?”

He chuckles. “Not exactly.”

You hum and nod, and for the briefest of moments, silence settles over you. The stationmaster types away at his computer, the clacking of the keyboard the only sound in the entire station. But then you force yourself to say something that’s been on your mind since he showed up on your doorstep two days ago.

“It’s been good seeing you again,” you say, and even though you mean it, you can’t bring yourself to look at him. “I… think in a way, after so long, I made you the villain in my head. It’s good to see that you’re… not that.”

“I am sorry,” he whispers. “That was the worst thing I have ever done, and I just…”

“I get it.”

“What?”

“I think I kind of always did, but… it just hurt too much to think that you were including me in everything that you wanted to get away from, and I just-”

“You were the last thing I wanted to get away from.” Maybe it’s the waver in his voice, maybe it’s the way he ducks his head to make sure he makes eye contact, but you believe him. He sits his mug down on the bench beside him and gathers your hands in his. “I was so fucking dumb. I would have taken you with me in a heartbeat, but god I was too stupid and selfish to take ten minutes to think.”

“I thought maybe I’d done something,” you admit quietly. “I thought that maybe after the night market-”

“No! Oh my god, no,” he exclaims, his hands tightening around your own. “You’re my best friend! I lo-”

“Train 49–the Northern Limited–will be arriving on the platform in five minutes,” the stationmaster announces, not even bothering to use the building’s intercom. “I’ll take you over to the platform when you’re ready.”

Yoongi groans.

“Here.” You pull your hands away from him and immediately miss the warmth of him. But you reach into your pocket, unlocking your phone and shoving it into his hands in one motion. “Put your number in.”

For a moment, he stares at you, dumbfounded. But then the stationmaster opens the door to his office, and the noise jolts Yoongi into action. He types quickly and hands you your phone. You don’t even look at it, just lock it and shove it into your pocket. He hands you his phone and you enter your own contact information before giving it back.

You stand at the same time, and for one brief, quiet moment, you worry that maybe he’s just going to leave it at that. But then he rubs the back of his neck and glances toward the stationmaster.

“I’ll text you,” he promises.

You nod, almost mechanically. You weren’t expecting it to hurt this much to see him leave again. As he turns to gather his things, something comes over you.

“I- Can we-” You sigh, take a deep breath. “Can I have a hug?”

He makes a noise somewhere between a hum and a squeak, and it takes almost no time for the pink to start blossoming on his cheeks. He sputters for a second, and you can feel his shock. But then he opens his arms, and you find yourself taking a small step forward.

It’s shockingly easy to fall back into him, to step into his arms. He’s warm, and solid, but still also somehow soft. His cologne lingers on his clothes, all lavender-y and citrus-y and sage-y. Your arms fit around his waist, and for a moment, you let yourself pretend that this is normal, that nothing ever happened and that he isn’t leaving. But you hear the train horn in the distance and you pull away. You kiss his cheek as you part, and his eyes go wide in shock.

“Text me,” you tell him firmly, reaching down to grab his coffee mug and hand it to him.

“I will. I promise.”

And with one last, fleeting look, he steps onto the elevator with the stationmaster to go over to the platform.

You stand outside the station long after the train departs, feeling very much like you did when he’d left the first time. You should be feeling optimistic–for the first time in a long time, you feel like maybe there’s hope. For you, for your friendship, for… whatever comes next. But it’s hard to feel any sort of positive when he’s on a train back to a city seven hours away, and you have to go home in the exact opposite direction in a few short days.

As you’re walking back to your car in the lot down the street, your phone dings. When you unlock it, you get the sudden feeling that you’re flying, like a horde of butterflies have erupted within you. It’s nerves and it’s excitement and maybe, it’s also a little bit of hope.

Yoongi 💙: thanks again for not turning me into a bug

“I’ve been thinking,” Yoongi says one late night, his deep, sleep-deprived voice distorted ever so slightly by the distance and the speakers of your phone. You can barely see him–there’s a dim light that just slightly illuminates his face, but the rest of the room is dark.

“Dangerous,” you joke.

“Rude.” He nuzzles down further into his pillow. “I’d like to come visit,” he admits softly.

For a moment, your mind goes blank. There’s a fluttering in your stomach, hundreds of butterflies trying to escape at once. He’d kept his word after the train station, texting and calling you frequently over the past couple weeks. You’d text throughout the week–little messages about bad days and delicious lunches and cute dogs–and then on the weekends, one of you would inevitably end up calling each other. You’d spend hours on the phone, sometimes talking, sometimes just existing in the silence between you.

The video calls were a recent development. Since they began, you’d watched him cook dinner, he’d played piano while you worked on a spreadsheet for work, and one early morning, he’d called you on his way home after bartending so he wouldn’t fall asleep on the train.

“What do you mean?” You laugh a little. Maybe it was a little obvious what he meant, but you wanted to hear him say it.

He groans a little, stretches one arm up before covering his eyes with it. He peeks out at you through the cook in his elbow, one singular, dark eye sparkling, even in the poor quality of the video. “I miss you,” he mumbles, and you almost don’t catch it, it’s so muffled by his arm and your phone’s speaker.

You hum. The butterflies in your stomach make themselves known again. “I guess you could come.”

“I don’t have to if you don’t want me to.”

“Hey now. It’s against the rules to take something like that back.”

He laughs. “What rules?”

“You know. The rules.” You gesture vaguely before pulling your blanket up a little further on your body. “Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten the rules?” He grunts. “Being away for so long has rotted your brain, I’m afraid.”

“So rude.” His arm is still obscuring his face slightly, but you can see his big, gummy smile as he laughs. “No, but seriously. Are you busy next weekend?”

You frown. You’d been trying to forget about next weekend. “Normally I’d go home for the new year,” you say softly.

“Why don’t,” he begins, stifling a yawn. You’re a little surprised he’s made it this long without seeming tired. It’s almost 3am. “Why don’t I come hang out? We can do new year’s stuff together.”

“You’re sure?”

“Of course.”

“What about work?”

He shifts, the arm that was over his face now supporting his head under his pillow. “I make the schedule. They’ll deal with it.”

“Yoongi.”

He continues on, ignoring you. “I can work the day shift and get a train right after work on Friday, but I wouldn’t get there until late, is that okay?”

You sigh. It would be nice to not spend the holiday alone. And it would be nice to see him again. Sure, you’ve been talking to him in one way or another, but it’s different than having him in person. You finally agree, and he shoots you a smug, sleepy smile.

The week passes at a glacial pace. Work is slow because of the break in classes for the upcoming holiday, and spending time in an empty library is infinitely less entertaining than you’d expect it to be. Most of your coworkers have taken off, so you’re mostly alone with your thoughts. You fill the time with paperwork, completing literature loan requests for the University’s faculty and doing intake for the newly released journals the library has subscriptions for.

In the small handful of weeks since you’d seen him last, you’d replayed things in your mind. But mostly, you’ve been stuck on how nice it is to have him in your life again. You aren’t fooling yourself. You haven’t forgotten. But there’s a part of you–a large part, if you’re honest with yourself–that hopes that this is a step forward, that you can be close again. Maybe not how you were, but something that resembles a friendship.

After an eternity, it’s Friday. You sit outside of the train station in your car, parked in one of the pick up spots just outside of the main door. The trickle of people into and out of the station has slowed significantly now that it’s dark out–you’ve never seen it this dead. It’s late, the station is getting ready to close, but there’s one last train that has yet to come in. There’s another car parked a few spaces to your left, and you wonder briefly about who they’re waiting to pick up, but it’s fleeting.

The door to the station opens automatically, and out steps Yoongi. He rolls a suitcase beside him, a messenger bag slung across his body, his other hand shoved deep into his hoodie pocket. He looks around, confused, his gaze going back and forth between your car and the one to your left. You turn on the dome light and wave and he nods.

He gives you a quick greeting as he opens the back door, shoving his bags in the back seat. When he finally climbs into the passenger seat, he sighs deeply, resting his head against the headrest for a moment before turning to you.

“Hey,” he says softly.

“Hey. How was the train?”

He groans. “Long.”

You hum. He’d worked a short, early shift so he could catch the last train from Ulmae to Ashland. He looks and sounds exhausted. But he’s here. He’s not a face on a screen, he’s in your car. You resist the urge to reach out and touch him. It’s strange. You’d been without him for nearly 13 years. It’s only been a few short weeks since you’d seen him last, but you’re giddy, practically bursting with excitement at the fact that, for the next two and a half days, he’s here. With you.

You drive in relative silence, willing the lights to be green more for Yoongi’s sake than your own. The radio plays a soft hip-hop song, and you vaguely recognize it as one of the bands he’d been obsessed with in high school, but you don’t turn it up. You’re fairly certain that he’s fallen asleep, his head lolled slightly to the side so that he’s facing the window.

It’s a damn miracle that there’s an open spot in front of your building, but you gladly take it. There are people in your building who don’t know how to parallel park—who refuse to do it—but you’d taught yourself just for instances like this. For a moment, you think you’re going to have to wake Yoongi up, but just as you cut the engine, he unbuckles his seat belt and stretches.

Your apartment isn’t large, but it’s bigger than most for what you pay for it. You’re on the seventh floor, the top floor of the building, and your bedroom has a lovely view of the building beside you. But if you lean a little to one side and press your face up against the glass, you can see out into the city beyond, and the university campus in the far distance.

He sits his bags down in your living room and plops down on the couch. You’ve already set out some blankets and a couple pillows for him. The clock on your microwave says 11:05.

“You’re probably exhausted,” you say. “I’ll let you get settled.”

Immediately, he picks his head up from the back cushion of the couch. “’m not tired.” Ever defiant. But you can tell he’s lying. You can see it in his eyes how groggy he is. Normally, he’s up much later than this–you know, because sometimes, he calls you–but between working an early shift and the six-hour train ride, you don’t blame him for being a little sleepy.

“I put some towels out in the bathroom,” you tell him, gesturing down the hall. “It’s the door on the left. Let me know if you need anything else.”

“Thanks.”

And with that, you leave him there in your living room. You can hear him unzipping his bag as you retreat into your room.

An hour later, you find that you can’t sleep. Not that you’ve even tried. You aren’t even sure why you’re so wired. But you’re sitting in your bed, legs covered by a sheet, in the dim light of your bedside lamp. You’ve had friends stay over before. But this… you feel like you did as a kid, having your first sleepover. Except back then you were wired on soda and sugary snacks and it was a treat to stay up late. Now, you’re just…

You hear the bathroom door open and shut, and after a moment, Yoongi stands in the doorway to your room.

“You have the softest towels in the world,” he says, hair hanging in damp strands in front of his eyes. He pats and scrunches it dry with one of the fluffy grey towels you’d set out for him.

“Would you believe I got them on clearance?”

“I’ll just have to stuff one in my bag, then.”

“I charge a 5% fee for any towels that leave the premises.”

At that, he laughs, a groggy, squeaky sound that shakes his shoulders and crinkles his eyes and leaves a wide, gummy smile in its wake.

“So… what’s the plan for tomorrow?”

“I haven’t really thought about it.” He shoots you a look that says he doesn’t believe you, and you relent. “Well,” you pat the bed beside you, inviting him to sit, “There’s this thing every year in the park to watch the meteors,” you say as Yoongi eases himself onto the mattress. “But it doesn’t start until late.” He hums. “Was there something you wanted to do?”

“No, just-” He stifles a yawn. “Curious.” He leans back against the headboard, settling in.

Just like that, you fall easily into conversation. It’s comfortable, calm. Just two old friends chatting. He likes your apartment, thinks the tile in your bathroom is really nice. He asks about your job, nods along as you tell him about working in the library and your coworkers.

And slowly, his reactions become slower, delayed, until he finally doesn’t respond at all. You look over, and his chin is tucked against his chest, his breathing gentle. Asleep.

For a moment, you consider going out to the couch. It would be weird, right, to stay here with him? But as you’re about to kick the blanket off, you pause.

We’re adults. Adults can share a bed. It doesn’t have to mean anything. You’re mature enough to let this just be two people sleeping in the same space.

At least, you think you are.

But as you settle in yourself, snuggling down into your blankets and turning off the light, you’re suddenly faced with the quiet peacefulness of his face. He’d always been handsome, and now that you’re both older, you can appreciate just how beautiful he really is. He sighs and slides down a little, his hand brushing against your arm as he gets more comfortable.

Oh no.

You sit on the floor of your living room, a box of pizza on the coffee table that you’ve shoved out of the way. Yoongi’s beside you, your backs against the couch as you watch some anime he’d been trying to convince you to watch back in high school. You’re three episodes in, and you don’t have the heart to tell him that you don’t really care for the basketball-themed show. Part of you is still afraid that if you say something wrong, he’ll be gone again.

His arm rests casually behind you on the cushions, far enough away that it’s more a comfortable way to sit than any sort of advance, but that doesn’t stop the smallest of butterflies from making itself known in your stomach. This Yoongi is so different from the Yoongi you knew—the one who, as a kid, got excited by construction equipment and the concept of ice cream, and as a teen spent his free time hiding from his parents, playing the piano and hanging out with you (though neither were mutually exclusive). He’s quiet, comfortable in the silence, comfortable with letting things linger.

You’re a little jealous of it, to be honest.

Yoongi leans forward slightly, and a piece of pizza meets him halfway, floating gently into his grasp. “Do you remember,” he begins, settling back in against the couch, “when we were 16 and we went camping?” You hum an affirmative. “We spent most of the week playing old board games with my parents.”

You smile at the memory. If anyone had asked back then, you would have told them it was lame that you’d had to spend the whole time with Yoongi’s parents. But now? That was one of the more fun summers you’d ever had. “What made you think of that?”

He shrugs, mouth full of pizza. “I dunno. But I’ve been thinking about it a lot recently. Things were so much simpler then…”

You nod and hum softly, but ultimately, you say nothing. Much simpler indeed.

“You know,” Yoongi begins, zipping his coat up to his chin, “when you said ‘park’, I was kind of expecting it to be in the city.”

“I think technically it is.” You lock your car and meet him at the front of it.

“We drove for an hour!”

You shrug. “Big city.”

He laughs and shakes his head, incredulous. He can’t tell if you’re being serious or not, but there was a sign on the way in with the university logo on it, so he supposes that whether it’s part of the city or not, it doesn’t really matter. There’s a well-lit trail that runs from the shale parking lot up a hill slightly to a clearing that overlooks the city and the rest of the park. It’s busy–people mill about around the parking lot, and he can see a steady stream of visitors on the trail up to the clearing.

He adjusts his coat–it’s cold, and both his shoulder and his senses ache with the impending snow–and when he’s ready, the two of you start walking toward the trail. It’s astonishingly busy, and as you weave your way through the crowd, leading him up the hill, he grabs your hand.

So we don’t get separated, he tells himself. For a moment, he expects you to pull away. Not maliciously, he’s not expecting you to scoff and throw his hand away. But what he isn’t expecting is for you to tighten your grip on him and tug him this way and that as you get closer to the clearing. His hand is warm where your skin touches his, like he’s holding a candle a little too close to the flame.

The clearing is massive, mostly flat but not entirely, with gentle rolling slopes that provide some extra elevation here and there. On one of the little hills, a few food trucks are set up, though how they got there, Yoongi isn’t really sure. Someone must have magicked them through the path or up the hill or something. There are picnic tables scattered around, mostly near the food trucks, but throughout the clearing, as well. Towards the edge of the clearing, there’s a cliff with an overlook that has a spectacular view of the city vista below. People are everywhere. Of course, there are a lot of college-aged kids hanging out in big and small groups. But there’s also a shocking amount of people that are Yoongi’s age and older–professors, he assumes, and university staff here to enjoy the evening. Almost all of them are holding drinks, and just about every one of them seems to be paired with someone.

It’s subtle sometimes, seeing bonded witches and familiars. Of course, the ones who are romantically involved tend to be more obvious, but the ones that are just friends are just as easy to spot once you know what to look for. It’s the people who stand so close together they’re almost touching, the ones who lean in a little extra close to whisper something. And the clearing is full of pairs standing in each other’s personal spaces.

You tug on his hand to direct him off to the left and he blindly follows, squeezing your fingers ever so gently as a response.

There’s a pair of people at one of the tables by the food trucks. They spot you almost immediately, and one of them stands to greet you. He’s a little taller than you are, made even more obvious when he gives you an awkward, one-armed hug over the picnic table’s bench. The other one–a woman–remains seated, eyeing Yoongi.

For a hot minute, it’s weird, as he stands there in silence while you chat with the man and woman. It’s not even the side-eye that the woman’s shooting him. The man is handsome–Yoongi’s not blind–and you are friendly with him. But there’s a moment, the briefest of moments, where you gesture somewhere off to your left. And when your body moves, Yoongi’s arm moves, too, and a little part of him, a silly, childish, hopeful part, soars.

You’re still holding his hand.

Eventually, you introduce him to the two. Alice works the reference desk in your library while she’s doing a doctorate program in linguistics. Her partner is gone in the winter, fighting fires in the far south. Despite her harsh side-eye, she greets Yoongi with a smile and a polite handshake. Jihwan, on the other hand, is the head baseball coach at the university. How the two of you met, Yoongi can only guess, but you make no mention of Jihwan’s partner, and Yoongi doesn’t see a gem anywhere. He almost–almost–starts to feel bad for the guy, but then he opens his mouth.

You ask a simple question, gesturing with your head to the food trucks. “What do they have good?”

“The pierogi guy from last year is back-”

Jihwan interrupts Alice. “Too much butter.”

It’s not even what he says. It’s how he says it. Like you and Alice are toddlers, like you can’t be trusted not to drown yourselves in carbs. But you roll your eyes and Alice scoffs playfully, and Yoongi realizes that this is not the first time Jihwan has done something like this. And suddenly, Yoongi hates this guy.

“Apparently, he’s got a new flavor this year,” Alice says, continuing like Jihwan never interrupted. “But the taco guy is also back-”

“Is the popcorn guy back?” you ask. laughing. “Because I kind of want a front-row seat to that.” Yoongi must look confused, because you explain. “Pierogi guy’s daughter was engaged to taco guy’s daughter. But last year, pierogi guy and taco guy just started yelling at each other-”

“-It was amazing,” Alice adds.

“It was ridiculous,” Jihwan mumbles.

You push him. “It was a little like having our own little telenovela here.”

Cautiously, Yoongi asks, “Why were they fighting?”

“No one knows.” You shrug. “But it launched a campus-wide food war. Everyone was choosing sides. It was like the year the Moondance tried to change its logo.”

Jihwan and Alice look at you, a little confused. But Yoongi knows exactly what you’re talking about. Somewhere around when you were preteens, the owners of the Moondance diner decided that its logo was outdated and wanted to update it. The whole town had been in an uproar, whole neighborhoods entering into a Cold War-esque stand-off over their preferences. People who had been friends for 50 years were suddenly in an unsolvable, unending argument. All over a color palette swap and a slightly newer font. Yoongi hadn’t cared much one way or the other–all businesses change their logos at some point, right?–and he always suspected that you didn’t either, but you’d both gotten swept up in the chaos of it all. It was stupid, ridiculous fun, and he’s pretty sure that his parents still have the buttons you’d made somewhere in their house.

You finally let go of Yoongi’s hand when you’re standing in line at the taco truck, and he’s painfully aware of how empty it feels now. You don’t go far, though, standing close enough that your elbow brushes against his every once in a while. You’re scrolling through your phone, reading some news article to pass the time. It’s gotten darker since you’ve been there, and looking up, he can just barely make out a couple pinpricks of stars in the sky. The clearing is fairly bright, with little flickering balls of light criss-crossing the space like bistro lighting, and the lights from the city below don’t help to make the night sky visible.

You pay for his tacos–”I get an employee discount,” you say, brandishing your university id like it’s a black card–and Yoongi doesn’t think that you were in line that long, but when you return to the table, Alice and Jihwan are gone.

“Where’d-” He’s not even asked the question, but you’re already shrugging.

“Alice’s probably off calling her fiance,” you say it like you’re back in high school, all singsong-y and mockingly, “and who knows where Jihwan got to. Probably trying to take someone home tonight.”

“He seems…”

You sigh. “Yeah.”

“How’d you meet him?”

A pang of… something hits him. Your expression falls, ever so slightly, and he regrets asking. But after a brief moment, you clear your throat. “He and I are the only two on campus without gems.”

Oh.

Well.

That makes sense.

“So they…”

You pick a piece of red cabbage off your taco and eat it. “Yeah, they know.”

Which explains Alice’s side-eye earlier. The weird emotion he’d gotten from you is gone now, and you seem to have just brushed right past the awkward feelings.

He hums, not really sure what to say. What’s there to say? So instead of saying anything dumb, he does the safe thing. He changes the subject.

“No wonder they didn’t kick the taco guy out of the festival this year.” He takes another bite of his taco. “This is the best al pastor I’ve ever had.”

“His chimichangas are amazing, but he only makes them on special days.”

“More special than…?” He gestures vaguely. Around you, the lights have started to dim. Yoongi isn’t really sure when that started, but things are definitely less bright.

You laugh, and something inside of him warms.

He hasn’t even finished his tacos yet, but the vibe in the clearing starts to dramatically change. The crowd gathers tighter, a palpable buzz in the air. Alice has returned and stands alone near the head of the table. She’s looking up at the sky, and when Yoongi looks up, he sees why. There’s an aurora in the sky, gentle waves of effervescent greens and blues swirling through the heavens, just like the night market all those years ago. It has to be magic of some sort–the city isn’t far enough north for it to be natural–but he can’t tell who’s doing it.

A hand on his shoulder pulls his focus back to the ground. You’re there behind him, bathed in the dim glow of the floating lights around you. By now, it’s almost dark, but even in the low light and deep shadows, you’re beautiful.

“Come on,” you say softly. “Let’s get a good spot closer to the lookout.”

He follows you through the crowd, weaving around the bodies to get closer to the edge of the clearing. It’s tight, and you grab his hand so you don’t get separated. Normally, Yoongi isn’t a huge fan of crowds like this. You’re a small island in a sea of people, and he barely has room to turn in a circle without bumping into someone. You stand close–close enough that he can feel your warmth through the chill of the night.

The city spans the valley below, a forest of metal and windows and concrete. A bright spot in the middle of an otherwise dark night. But then, individually at first and then more, the buildings’ lights begin to flicker out.

“They’ve been doing this festival since before the city got public electricity,” you explain, answering his question before he could even ask. “It’s kind of a big deal.”

With the lights of the city mostly out, the stars above are much brighter. He can almost see them twinkling and winking as they burn, millions of billions of lightyears away. The night sky is beautiful, and his eyes drift around to locate the constellations he’d learned as a child. Almost immediately, he finds Perseus, right beside his wife Andromeda. You’d loved the myth of Perseus slaying Medusa when you were kids, and even though he hadn’t looked for the constellation in over a decade, finding it is still ingrained in him.

He nudges you slightly, pointing up to the constellation. But just as he does, a pinprick of light streaks across the sky. You squeeze his hand as more streaks start to appear and the gathered crowd buzzes with ‘ooh’s and ‘aah’s. The meteors are all sizes. Big and bright. Small and thin. They aren’t constant, only a few show up every minute, but it’s beautiful to watch.

There’s a strange sensation growing in his chest, something warm and fluttering and all-encompassing. You lean a little closer and the feeling grows. You must sense something–he’s never really been sure what his emotions feel like for you–because you look up at him. For a moment, you look confused.

Yoongi isn’t really sure how it happens, but what he does know is that suddenly, your face is centimeters from his own. He thinks that maybe someone bumped you and you took a step closer, but maybe that’s just his brain trying to fill in the gaps. He also knows that he’s the one that closes the space between you, leans in and brushes his lips against yours. It’s quick, a little impulsive, and truthfully, it feels a little forbidden.

He pulls away, not far enough to make it seem like he’s made a mistake, but enough that it gives you an out, if you want it. His brain starts making all these calculations–what he should do if you back away, what he should do if you slap him, what if you don’t react.

But then you whisper, “Why’d you stop?” and your hand slides up his chest to grip the lapel of his coat. You tug with a surprising amount of force, and when your lips connect, he feels himself soaring.

His entire world narrows to the points where your bodies connect. The firm touch of your knuckles against his shirt, the way your leg presses against his, but mostly the heat from your lips as he deepens the kiss. You fit against him perfectly, as if you were made for each other. He’d only kissed you that one time, but somehow, he’d missed it, missed you.

When you finally pull away, you stay close, pressed against his chest–though whether that’s fully your choice or because of the crowd tightening around you is anyone’s guess. He can feel your heart pounding, and when you shoot him a small smirk, he’s pretty sure that you can feel the pace of his own pulse. Your grip loosens on the collar of his coat and you smooth it down coolly before your arm wraps around his back. Without a word, you cozy in, pressed close as your gaze returns to the sky and to the stars.

For a moment, he stands there, unmoving, mind empty. But then it’s like he snaps out of a trance, and he snakes an arm around your waist, holding you tightly. His focus shifts to the shooting stars above, catching one just as it streaks across the sky. As he stands there, staring at the heavens and feeling your steady breathing, his mind begins to wander.

12 years, 7 months, and 3 days. He’d spent most of that time wondering what would have happened if he hadn’t left. If, after he’d kissed you at the night market, he’d been satisfied with whatever life had come after that. He’d been so scared back then, of losing control, of his life not being his own. But now, none of that matters.

Now, he’d give up almost anything to stay here, in this moment, in your arms.

okay so like... what do we think? how are we feeling? I was originally planning on having this be much longer, but I was so stressed out from grad school, I just wanted to get it out now. I'm so excited to hear your thoughts! and let me know if you want to see a part 2 (and if so, what you might want to see in it!!)

#yoongi x reader #min yoongi x reader #bts x reader #yoongi fanfic #yoongi fic #suga fic #suga fanfic #bts fanfic #bts fic #min yoongi fic #min yoongi fanfic #myg x reader #bts soulmate au #bts supernatural au #set me free

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ysljoon · 4 months ago

Text

Whirlwind | MYG

♡pairing: min yoongi x reader

♡wc: 3.1k

♡genre: smut, enemies to lovers, forced proximity, non-idol AU

♡ warnings: unprotected sex, degradation, oral sex (f receiving)

♡summary: with a hurricane coming your way towards your state, your roommate provides a safe haven to the man you’ve despised for as long as you can remember.

MINORS DNI (have your age in your bio or you're getting blocked)

The grocery store was bustling with people getting ready to prepare for the hurricane that was set to land in your state by the end of the week. You always knew once hurricane season started you needed to get supplies to keep you stocked, but since you’re plagued with the disease of procrastination you have no choice but to do last minute shopping. At least you had the company of Park Jimin to help you with your grocery run.

Park Jimin has been a close friend of yours since high school and have stayed roommates even after your college years. He has been the biggest support system for you throughout the years and you have been the same for him.

Once you were done checking out at the store you made your way to the car to pack all your groceries away. There was already a steady drizzle of rain falling down from the sky and you sighed already imagining the flooding that was bound to come with the storm. Jimin decided to take over the role of driving back home. You thanked him and quietly slid into the passenger seat. Jimin had refrained from any conversation throughout this trip and it made you a little concerned for him. He is never one to shy away from conversation or saying what he thinks so this behavior leads you to believe that something is wrong.

“Hey Chim, is everything alright?” You glanced his way to see if his expression will give anything away, but his face didn’t even twitch.

“Yeah I’m good bub, I just have some stuff on my mind. Don’t mind me.” He sent you a small smile to try and placate your worries.

“Okay well you know I’ll always be here to listen whenever you’re ready.” You gave him a small squeeze to his shoulder and dropped the topic the rest of the drive home. The soft hum of the radio filled up the silence of the car ride.

Once at home the groceries were unpacked and put into their respective places in the fridge and pantry and Jimin stored the cases of water bottles in the garage. Without glancing your way he called your name softly to get your attention once he was back in the kitchen. You peered at him waiting to hear what he was going to ask.

“Can we talk once I’m out of the shower?” You nodded and retreated to your room to give him the space he needed to do.

Your mind started to sift through memories of the past weeks to see if it could give you any kind of hint as to what this conversation could be about. Is he going to move out? Did you do something to upset him and didn’t realize? The cogs were turning and anxiety was starting to make you feel a little queasy. The time that Jimin took to shower and change felt like it was stretching on for too long. You were about to get up and check on him when you heard tow soft knocks against your door before he opened it to let himself in.

He was changed into an oversized sleep shirt and sweatpants and his bare cheeks were slightly flushed from the hot shower. You patted the middle of the bed for him to sit down and get comfortable.

“What’s going on Jimin? Are you sure everything is okay?” He was wringing his fingers together

And his eyes shifted around the room as he was preparing himself to speak. “With the hurricane coming up, is it okay if a friend comes and stays with us until it passes? His town is directly in the path of the storm and his area is prone to flooding.” You stared at him with widened eyes and nodded without hesitation. Why was he so nervous about this? This wasn’t nearly as bad as all the scenarios that you came up with in your mind.

“Of course that’s okay Chim! Any friend of yours is a friend of mine. Don’t scare me like though again I thought you were dying or going to move out!” You stretched to give him a hug and he rubbed your back gently. With that being the end of the discussion he bid you goodnight with a tight lipped smile that you gave no mind to and he took himself back into his bedroom.

Okay -scratch that- there is one friend of Jimin’s that is not a friend of yours. That person is the one and only Min Yoongi. He has been a thorn in your side since Jimin has entered your life. He has never done anything that was genuinely that awful to you but it’s the way he speaks and carries himself with such an arrogant attitude that aggravates you.

When you saw him walk through the threshold of your front door with his duffel bag you instantly felt your blood start to bubble from the boiling rage you had in your body. The glare you sent Jimin was deadly and you motioned him to follow you into your room so you can tear him a new one talk.

“Park Jimin I don’t know if you suddenly have amnesia for the past 10 years, but I don’t know where you got the idea that Min Yoongi is allowed into our home! If I had known it was him that you were offering a place to stay I would’ve just let the hurricane take him away.” You were livid. Jimin took your hands in his to stop the gesticulating you were doing. With the way your hands were moving wildly he was afraid you would hit him.

“ I didn’t tell you because of that reason Y/N. I know you don’t like him, but this is only temporary. I told him to be on his best behavior, but if he really acts out I’ll send him to a hotel nearby if the weather isn’t too bad.” You let out an exasperated sigh, but had nothing else to add to the conversation that would make it productive. You stomped back out into the living room and refused to acknowledge Yoongi’s presence. Maybe if you just ignore that he’s in your home you can keep your sanity intact.

“Hey princess, can you sit somewhere else? This is gonna be my bed for the next couple of days.” You gritted your teeth hearing that god awful nickname Yoongi called you. He always said it in such a condescending tone that would get under your skin in the perfect way. “In case you forgot Yoongi,” his name rolled off your tongue with a sharp bite. “This is my home that you are a guest in. You don’t get to boss me around on what I can and cannot do in my home and my couch.” You continued scrolling on your phone hoping he would get the hint to leave you alone. Needless to say you were wrong. Instead he decided to plop himself down on the couch without a care that jostled your body. You glared at him and he met your gaze with a stupid fucking smirk. On top of this he started to unpack his duffel bag noisily, tugging on the zipper with a strong force. You got up from the couch with a huff and locked yourself in your room with a slam of your door. This was going to be a strenuous couple of days.

The next day you woke up and found Jimin and Yoongi working outside to put shutters around the windows. This blowing wind was starting to pick up but the humidity was still high in the air. You stepped outside and greeted Jimin while he was busy holding the ladder to keep Yoongi stabilized. You retreated to get two cups of cold water to give the boys and when you came back outside Yoongi was wiping the sweat off his face with the front of his t-shirt. The way the fabric rode up to expose his pale skin and toned back had you staring without even realizing. Jimin was suddenly clearing his throat and when your eyes landed on his face he was staring at you with a raised eyebrow. You looked back at the cups and handed them both to Jimin and headed back inside without a word.

When they finished the project of the shutters the sliding door opened and when you walked in Min Yoongi’s shirt was off. You stared at his abs that were just as toned as his back. When the hell did he get so fit? Even his biceps were much bigger than you ever remember them. Why do you even remember the size of his biceps?

“You seem to have a staring problem princess, keep that up and I might do something about it.” His low voice took you out of your daze and you scoffed at his comment. “You come anywhere near me Min and I’ll punch you into next week. Watch yourself.” You slid your eyes back on the Netflix show that had lost your interest minutes ago. He just snickered and walked into Jimin’s room to take a shower.

Once the door was locked Jimin stood in front of the TV blocking your view with his hand on his hips. “What’s up with the sudden ogling you have for Yoongs? You wanna fuck him or something?” This made you burst out in sarcastic laughter. “Get real Jimin. I wouldn’t even touch him with a 10 foot pole.” you rolled your eyes at the thought of even getting touched by Yoongi. “Whatever you say, but your actions are contradicting the bullshit that you’re trying to convince me with.” And with that Jimin stalked off into to kitchen for a quick snack.

Later in the evening the thunderstorm was booming with thunder and you could see peeks of lightning through the shutters. The combination of these conditions with the howling wind has led the power to go out. Jimin searched for the lantern in the garage to bring back some light into the home. You were left with Yoongi in the living room and no words were said between the two of you. It's for the best. Yoongi felt like breaking the silence first.

“You know, I never understood why you can’t stand me princess. I don’t think I’ve done anything to wrong you.” He studied his nails as he talked. “First issue already is that dumbass nickname that you won’t stop calling me even though I told you endless times that I hate it.” “Aw, but I think it suits you and your stuck up behavior.” He sneered and this made you meet his eyes with a fiery glare. “Go fuck yourself Min. You’re one to talk about other people’s behaviors when you walk around like an arrogant ass. You have some fucking nerve.” The tension in the room was rising to levels that made it feel stuffy. Why the hell is it taking Jimin so long to find the lantern? “You think you know everything about me princess, but you don’t even know how wrong you are!” His voice was rising as he got up from the couch and he was now towering above your seated figure. “Well if I’m so wrong why don’t you prove it to me that you’re not some self-important prick.”

As soon as those words came out of your mouth his lips were colliding with your own and his fingers grasped your chin to keep you in place. You kissed back with the same amount of fervor and gripped the front of his sweatshirt. As soon as you let out a whimper of desperation, you heard the garage door open notifying you both of Jimin’s returning presence. Yoongi pulled away at light speed and took his seat back on the couch to keep the distance between you two. “What did I miss?” Jimin looked between the two of you with confusion spread on his face. You ignored his curiosity and retreated into your room before he could detect the flush spread across your face.

Since the power was lost the house became hotter as the night progressed and the sweatshirt you had was discarded for a cropped tank top and nothing more than panties for the bottoms. Your handheld fan lost power an hour ago since you decided to have it on full blast instead of trying to conserve the power to have it last longer. The sheen of sweat was building up on your skin and you went to the garage to get yourself a bottle of water to help cool down.

You nearly jumped out of your skin when you opened the door and saw Yoongi’s figure in the garage too. “Christ, you scared the hell out of me!” You clutched your hand over your heart trying to calm your heart rate. You’re too frazzled to realize that you’re standing in front of Min Yoongi in just your panties and that he’s shirtless and only boxers. He smirked and slowly approached you. You pedaled backwards until your back hit the wall and was cornered by him. His eyes roamed over your body and smirked. “You know you drive my crazy princess?” You turned your face to the side to avoid eye contact, but his breath fanned your neck in the right way to make your heart race. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You murmured through pouted lips.

He took a small step back with his arms crossed over his chest. “Really? Because the way you were whimpering for me hours ago just from a kiss says otherwise.” You flushed at his words and you were again cornered by him. He slit his leg between yours and his thigh was just ghosting the already damp spot you have in your panties.”Well I can give you a little reminder and more to jog your memory.” He raised his thigh and planted his hands on your waist to keep you place. The sudden sensation has you gasping and rutting your hips to get more friction.

“Look at you, you’re like a bitch in heat rutting against my thigh. You’re so desperate for me already and I haven’t even done a thing princess. I can’t wait to fuck your shitty attitude out of you.” His words were starting to anger you. “Shut the fuck up!” You were too busy chasing your high to even want to give him the time of day to his taunting. To this, he swiftly removed his thigh and went back to standing straight. You were distressed and looked at him with wide eyes. What is wrong with him? “Yoongi what the fuck?” He wrapped his long, slender fingers around the column of your throat. “You think you deserve to fucking cum? With the way you’ve talked to me all these years I could edge you all fucking week. Don’t tempt me.” You shivered at his words. His fingers slithered in between your legs and pushed your panties to the side to tease your clit. You released a breathy moan and threw your head on his shoulder. “Tell me no right now and I’ll stop right now sweetheart. We won’t even have to talk about it ever again.” You shook your head against his shoulder. “I need words, that isn’t enough.” “I want you to fuck me Yoongi. Now stop talking and do something.” The desperation was so evident in your words and that’s all he needed to hear.

His dexterous fingers got to work and slipped into your sloppy cunt. The way his fingers pumped into you had your eyes rolling into the back of your head. “F-fuck Yoon right there!” Your thighs were shaking and your pussy fluttered the closer you were to your orgasm. At the last second you were about to cum Yoongi slipped out his fingers and slapped your pussy. You were panting now with how worked up you were.

“Take the panties off. Now.” You obliged with his words and his dark eyes made you even wetter if that was even possible because you are the most soaked you’ve ever been before. Nobody has ever made you feel as good as Yoongi is right now. Once your panties were off he dropped to his knees and stuffed his head between your legs. You propped up one of your feet on his thigh and he grabbed the back of your thighs to bring you closer. His lips wrapped around your clit and started sucking on it. Your moans were rising in volume and in pitch. His tongue dipping into your hole and licking your cunt made you feral. You gripped on to his hair and that sensation had him moaning against your core. That was enough to send you over the edge. You let out a strangled moan as you came all over his mouth. “Fuck, you taste so fucking good on my tongue.”

You didn’t even get a chance to regain your bearings before Yoongi's lips were on yours. The taste of him mixed with you had you groaning. His cock was straining against his boxers and he was rutting against your thigh and he nibbled on your lip and kissed you fervently. “Now you’re the bitch in heat on my thigh.” You chuckled, but Yoongi wasn’t in the mood for jokes at the moment. He stripped off his boxers and the sight of his thick cock had you drooling. He tapped the back of your thigh twice and instructed you to jump up. You followed his instructions and his hands gripped your thighs as he pressed you against the wall. He angled his cock against your entrance and bottomed out in one go. This had you screaming out in pleasure and your nails dragged against his back.

He fucked into you mercilessly and reveled in the sounds you made. Knowing he was making you feel this good and scream out inflated his ego beyond the atmosphere. “Tell me you’re only fucking mine.” He growled into your ear. You were so fucked out you could barely process his words. “Tell. Me. Princess.” He punctuated each word with a deep thrust that had you seeing stars. “F-fuck I’m only y-yours Yoongi! Only yours!” He grinned hearing this. The coil in your stomach snapped and brought you to your second orgasm of the night. “Who would’ve thought the bitch with the most to say would be creaming all over my fucking cock.” Yoongi was groaning through his words and his thrusts were starting to get sloppy. After a few more strokes he pumped your pussy full of his cum.

You both were out of breath and panting and you winced when his softening cock slipped out of you. You both suddenly jumped at the sudden knock against the garage door. Jimins voice rang through the other side. “I’m glad you’ve been able to reconcile, but you two are fucking loud!” You heard his footsteps fade away and you and Yoongi snickered at each other. Maybe Min Yoongi isn’t as bad after all.

#thebtswritersclub #min yoongi x reader #min yoongi x you #min yoongi x y/n #min yoongi fanfiction #min yoongi fanfic #bts fanfiction #bts fanfic #bts x reader #min yoongi #min yoongi smut #whirlwind au #suga x reader #suga x you #suga x y/n #suga fanfic #bts suga #suga

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seokjinsonlyone · 1 year ago

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this how i think bts would be if they was your husband

namjoon:

you’d have your own rooftop garden together; like he’d get someone to get it setup architecturally the way he has it envisioned in his head and to give like advice on the types of plants that are good for this set up but y’all would do all the seeding and watering and weed pulling yourselves

evening walks together around sunset through the park or around the river hand in hand where you just soak up nature and talk about any and everything

you both like the idea of having a pet but know that you're too busy to keep one regularly so you end up getting fish; he gets a cute little 20 gallon tank and like five fish but he actually does a lot of research on which fish live the best together, which food and treats they like best, the best plants and knick knacks to put inside, how to clean it, etc.; all in all takes the whole situation way more seriously than you'd thought he would; it was supposed to be sumn light for the summer time but you'd think he's filming an episode of tanked for all the time and effort he pours into it

sits side by side with you rubbing circles into your lower back whenever you need to rant about something

loves it when you get desperate for him so sometimes around the time you're ovulating he teases you; will walk around the house in nothing but his briefs with his glasses on talking in his deep voice; will invade your space like if you're in the kitchen making food or something he's gonna come up behind you and wrap that strong arm around your middle kissing up on you asking meaningless questions about what you're doing until you finally snap and drag him to the bedroom

consistently opens every door for you and pulls out your chair at restaurants even if it's five, ten years down the line

the type to never know where anything is; it's not even that you switch things up a lot it's just that he never forgot the muscle memory of where things were when he lived alone; so he's constantly calling out to you asking where something is; half the time what he looking for be in very obvious locations but his mind is just so all over the place that he overlooks it

uses you as his sounding board when he has a situation he needs handled; will just sit there and think out loud to you for minutes and hours; you don't even be saying that much really like occasionally he'll ask what you think but he appreciates having a listening ear more than anything and you're happy to be there for him even if his incessant rambling makes you wanna strangle yourself sometimes

would learn to help you take out your box braids; it makes you nervous when he first offers to help because he can be a bit rough sometimes but he's oddly gentle and diligent with the task; once he's gotten good with that you convince him to wash your hair too; and take down/wash day is less dreadful because of it

you two become a package deal; like it could be a boys night or a girl's night and you're always gonna try to bring the other with and most of the time y'alls friends don't mind like you're one of the boys and he's one of the girls so it's fine; even if he like invites some friends over the house and you stay in the room to give them some space at some point he's gonna go and check up on you; you'll just be laying in bed on your laptop or phone, watching tv or something and he's gonna lay beside you and ask what you doing make sure you're okay next thing you know 30 minutes gon go by and you'll have to remind him that he has guests over; then he's gonna convince you to come out with him and stay tucked up under his arm until his friends leave or pass out

seokjin:

draws you a bath when he knows you’ve had a long day; it’d be really nice too; he'd light your favorite candle and set it on the counter; add a fragrant moisturizing bath bomb and sprinkle in some flower petals; once you settle in he'll put down one of them over the tub trays and hand you a glass of wine and your laptop so you can watch whatever you want or stream music while you’re in the tub

loves referring to you as 'his wife'; like y'all will be with a group of your friends that knew you from the get go and they'll ask him where he got his jacket from and he'll be like "oh my wife bought it for me" and they'll be like "🥴 boi we knew her long before she was ever worried about you just say her name" aksksksk

every couple months y’all will go on cooking dates with his celebrity chef friends and their wives; which is basically them in the kitchen being loud cooking a meal he specifically chose for you and you and the wife not too far away watching them while being wined and dined

not particularly handy but he feels like as a man there’s just certain things he should be able to do; so if your sink is leaking or there’s a problem with your car battery or something he’s gonna hop on youtube and figure out how to solve it first; calls an actual repairman to deal with it if he can’t fix it without being moderately inconvenienced

insists on getting a pool installed even tho you tell him you would barely use it bc you hate having to redo your hair more than you like to swim; you actually do end up using it all the time bc he orders one of those giant canopy floats and y'all just lay up there and take naps or talk; the whole outdoor area is actually bomb tbh like there's an entire sheltered outdoor kitchen and grill patio area with fans on the ceiling for when it gets hot and a fully loaded bar; y'all honestly spend more time outside during the summer than inside and get scolded for not entertaining people more often

if you reeeaaalllyyy want him to go shopping with you he will but he’d rather just give you his card and you gather up some of your girls and y’all can go nuts together

tries to butter you up when he knows he's in trouble but it's never with anything good like he'll stop at the convenience store on the way home and pick up some things to try to sway you; he get home and you're waiting for him slightly ticked off and he's like "i know you're mad but look at what i got you and it's a cosmic brownie, sour gummy worms (his favorite candy mind you), some wet wipes, and an arizona tea

official driver of the relationship; lets you be the passenger princess of your dreams like whenever you need to get from point a to point b he’s getting you there all you gotta do is sit down and look pretty (and play decent music while he’s driving)

even if you’re not a certified Gamer Girl™️ when there’s like a new mario game or something along those lines that doesn’t require a ton of skill and know how to play you’ll no life it together; like will straight up play for like 16 hours a day until you beat it; you still force him to eat and shower however but you’re not allowed to touch the controller until he returns bc he’d be afraid you’ll lose all your lives

the type to get super close with your family; like you look over one day and see yo mama calling him and you listen to him and they're literally just catching up???; he goes out on bros days with your dad and brothers; all your cousins follow him on instagram and be sending him memes; and you just sit there tryna figure out how he singlehandedly replaced you in your family bc they be treating him better than they treat you

yoongi:

after hearing you talk about wanting a detached claw foot jacuzzi tub for the 1000th time he decides to just go ahead and get your dream house built from the ground up; gives his input in every step of the process since he has so many opinions on architecture, furniture, finishes, and overall aesthetics; sometimes there’s little disagreements when your design styles clash but in the end he makes sure that you definitely get everything you’ve ever wanted included

warms your car up for you in the morning during winter months; unimportant but i just know he would go out in a sweatshirt and some slides like barefoot toes out in 20° weather shuffling out to make sure your car is nice and cozy and the frost is off the windshield

every now and again you’ll just be chilling at home and then he’ll be like “yah go get dressed we’re going out” and then he’ll genuinely take you on one of the best dates ever; it may not be over the top every time but somehow it’s always exactly what you needed; acts nonchalant about it when you’re gushing over how great of a time you’re having; “ah it’s nothing” but he’s secretly super self satisfied bc he knows he’s killing it

sometimes he’ll be sprawled out on the couch watching basketball and you’ll be tryna tell him something but he’s so engrossed that he won’t hear a word you say so you gotta throw a pillow at him to get his attention

untangles your necklaces for you; sweeps the hair from the back of your neck and clasps it together once he's got it free

likes leaning on your shoulder when you’re in bed on the computer; not really nosy about what it is that you’re doing whether it’s work or whatever but just likes to listen to the sound of your typing as his own personal asmr; also loves it when you get your nails done like will happily pay for a new set every other week because of the tippity tapping that accompanies everything you do

sets up a joint bank account for you two like immediately bc he doesn't have anything to hide and what's his is yours; but also sets you up a separate savings account that he funnels money into biweekly bc he wants you to be okay always even if one day it has to be without him

if you're both up late and you're feeling peckish he'll whip up a quick late night snack for y'all to munch on

never really comments when your hormones throw your body system out of wack; like if you randomly had night sweats for a couple days and sweat through your clothes and blanket he'd just nudge you awake so you can dry off and turn the ac on

is extra physically affectionate whenever you start getting irritated even if he’s the source of your irritation; will grab your hand and pull you into him planting kisses on top of your head and rubbing up and down your back until you’re sufficiently pacified

hoseok:

all his numeric passcodes are related to you; like it’s either your birthday or your anniversary, the day y’all met, first date, etc.

sometimes he likes to sit on the toilet when you're in the shower and talk to you; will periodically poke his head in to check your progress depending on how long you're in there; ooos and aahs and waggles his eyebrows every time he does so

some people think you’re some kind of dictator bc his response to every proposal he receives is “let me check with my wife first”; you’re not tho he just likes running things by you bc he’s only ever okay if y’all are on the same page; sometimes you really are his scapegoat if he doesn’t wanna do something tho and you’re fine with being his excuse! you love spending time with your man!!

y’all draw lots over who has to kill the bugs in the house; he tries his best to overcome his fear for you he really does but sometimes he look at the bug and the bug look at him and his heart can’t take it; generally tho there’s less fear of y’all conquer it together

at least once a month he books a couples spa day appointment for you two; deep tissue massages, facials, manicures, pedicures, the works like you just get absolutely spoiled; his motto is that if you feel good and look good then you can be good and be good to each other; unrelated but he get a kick out of eating the cucumbers that are supposed to help soothe around your eyes

you get so used to the sound effects he makes all the time that when he’s not around you have to have some kind of background sounds whether it’s music or white noise just something to fill the air.

you both like plushies, funko pops, action figures and all that so there's a dedicated toy room in your home; all the toys that you actually care about are placed higher up and in cases to keep in good condition but things that you don't mind having some use are accessible; the whole room is carpeted and there are some fluffy rugs too; there's a 65 inch tv on one wall and a computer area for gaming as well; the whole room is illuminated via led lights; needless to say all the kids you know love when y'all babysit them; they stay in that one room the entire time except when they want a snack bc there's no eating in the toy room; jungkook also loves to randomly come and hangout in the toy room by himself

wouldn't tolerate any kind of disrespect toward you; say you went out to a restaurant and the server was being rude to you, he'd clock it so fast he'd be talking to a manager having your server swapped out and dessert on the house before you even realized what they said

y'all try new hobbies together; it's never anything you have experience or are good at which makes it even more fun as you're doing it; like you'll get one of those woobles crochet kits and spend like a month trying to figure it out in your free time and make whatever little creature you bought

never actually stops dating you; will still have an active folder with activities and restaurants he wants the both of you to go to; even if you both lack the time and energy to actually go out on a date he's lighting a candle and pulling out the fine china for you it doesn't matter that you're wearing loungewear and sitting on the floor in front of the tv; he wants you to feel special always

jimin:

intimacy between you two go crazy; you’re as close as close can be like if there were such a thing as soulmates you two would be it; you’re consistently trapped within your own bubble and even if you’re out and about it’s still almost as if no one else existed; like say y’all went out to a club music is thumping people are everywhere it’s a generally Loud environment if you softly called his name from beside him he would turn to you immediately; or someone could brush past him and it’d be whatever but if you ghosted your hand up his arm he would get goosebumps; you’re just insanely in tuned to each other

would love if you had a softer build bc he likes the way you feel like heaven when he lays on you; also he just likes squeezing at your squishy bits; he finds it equal parts amusing and satisfying; like he'll squeeze at your boob when you're half asleep in bed just to annoy you; you'll be turned on your side and his arm will be slung across your waist and he'll just inch his hand up until he reaches your boob and squeezes; giggles evilly every time you smack his hand away and won't stop until you're whining and kicking at him to leave you alone and let you sleep

sometimes you’ll build a giant fort in the living room when he’s getting overwhelmed by life complete with fairy lights strung up overhead and pillows and more blankets covering the floor to make it extra comfy; you spend all day together in there playing games and talking nonsense and eating snacks and end the night cuddled up his arm wrapped around your shoulders, your head tucked into his neck watching movies until you’re sure his head is free from all his worries

loves to be fed, literally; like when dinner time comes he will make one big plate and pull up with a fork and a knife and a waiting attitude; if you don't play along immediately he's gonna put his hands over yours and make you feed him bites until you take over; likes to feed you as well; just always sharing his food with you and expects you to do the same

he gets obsessive when you don't answer his calls; like if he knows you're not busy and he calls you and you don't answer it drives him up a wall and he will spam you with texts and at least a dozen more calls until you pick up; not even because he has anything urgent to tell you he just always craves your attention; bonus: ends every conversation by saying i love you like you could be on the phone for 15 seconds just confirming something really quickly and he's gonna make sure he's told you he loves you before you click end call

doesn’t say anything when he finds you crying just pulls you into him and lets you get it all out; once you start calming down a bit he’ll pull back slightly, gently cupping your face in his hands and swipe away all your tears; only when he’s sure the tears have come to a complete stop does he softly ask “what’s going on?”

still gets shy and flustered around you; it doesn’t stop him from being himself around you whatsoever but it’s very obvious when you have the upper hand in a situation

you can't just tell him you need an item from the store bc half the time he'll go and come back with the wrong thing; you gotta send him a picture of it and that don't even work all the time; most of his solo ventures to the store at your request end in him facetimeing you bc he swears up and down they don't have what you asked for but then you end up finding it for him and you not even there

knows you admire his art skills so he leaves little doodles on post it notes around the house; is really proud when you display the ones you find really cute in your phone case

the type to put his life in your hands; when y'all go out to eat he tells you to order for him bc "you know what i like"; will let you dress him/style his hair however bc "you know what looks good on me"; he just literally trusts and defers to your judgement as much as possible

taehyung:

the type to tighten all the jars when you’re upset with him so you’re forced to ask him for help and talk to him anyway

would try to set up a really romantic dinner for you complete with rose petals and candles and champagne on ice but he'd be so focused on creating the right ambience that he forgets to order the food and one thing bout tae is he ain't a chef and even if he was he wouldn't have enough time before you showed up so you'd end up having a pb&j and cup noodles

sometimes if he has a lot of energy but you’re asleep he’ll poke at you until you’re awake and then he’ll ask if you’re asleep and when you say yes he’ll keep messing with you until he’s able to drag you out to play with him

knows how to tie a tie but claims it looks better when you tie it so whenever he wears a suit he gets you to finish off his look; really he just likes to be manhandled by you and the grip you have around his neck does something for him

if you get him riled up in the morning he just lives there all day; partially aware of what's going on around him but undoubtedly distracted, thinking about you, wanting you; hands and eyes are glued to the phone at all times hoping you'll message him or something even if it is just you teasing him some more; he's putty in your hands and he knows it but when the day is over and y'all are both home you're his

you have to come to major compromises when it comes to decorations; like you let him have his accent wall that he puts his paintings of his basquiat-esque faces but the weird cyber bug and person shark statues and the butt chair have to go

you do majority of the cooking so he takes dish duty very seriously; will swat you away if you try to help most times; however there’s a special place in his heart for the times you ignore him and help anyway by drying the dishes and it’s you him and some music playing and you’re singing and dancing around the kitchen together

there's a legitimate argument about your use of a body pillow; he genuinely gets offended bc is he not enough for you? why can't you just cuddle him? why would you go and put the great wall of china in between you two? what's with the distance? was he too much for you? like the situation blows completely out of proportion for no reason skslklsks the argument ends when you force him to cuddle it and he instantly understands the hype behind it; that doesn't curb his jealousy towards the object however and you're only allowed to use it when he's not in bed with you

a whiny baby when he's sick; you'd think he had tuberculosis in the 12th century instead of a common cold the way he be acting; a piece of tissue stuck in his nose, piled under three blankets, shivering every five minutes on cue; you give him a good day of dealing with the dramatics after that you leave him in the room with a bottle of dayquil and a packet of vitamin c until he decides to get on with his life like a normal human being

loves planning weekend getaways for the two of you; like every other month you guys are out of town for like 3-4 days in the spirit of “rekindling”; he always rents a really nice and cozy cabin type joint and most of the trips are spent just enjoying each others company and the scenery, walking around the town latched onto his arm and eating good food; you come back from each outing refreshed and more in love than you already were

jungkook:

every sunday he checks your car to make sure it has a full tank and if it doesn’t he fills it up for you

you two have separate rooms bc you both like to have space to just exist as an individual from time to time (also it’s really nice to have a place to storm away to when you’re in a fight) but you end up cuddled up next to each other every night anyway

has a very strict laundry schedule and routine; gets annoyed if you don't do it how he likes when he's unable to

watches you while you’re getting ready; he’ll be sitting at the edge of the bed while you walk around from your closet to the dressers circling the room trying to find something to wear; you’ll be having a conversation with him the whole time and after you walk past him for the 4th time his clinginess gets the best of him and he catches you by the waist before you can fully bypass him; he pulls you in between his legs and just hugs you to him for a few moments while you run your hands through his hair

follows you around the house with his mic serenading you like three times a week

comes behind you when you’re cooking or washing dishes or something and just pats at your butt for a while and by a while i mean he won’t stop until you elbow him and threaten to cut his hands off; he just laughs and gets one more grope in before backing off

traces the contours of your face and murmurs all kinds of cute and lovely and cheesy stuff about you when you’re both in bed and he thinks you’re sleep

if you made him a good meal you’d hear about it constantly for the next week; like every other sentence is a “seriously, it was so good” and he won’t stop until you make it again; sometimes he’ll try making it himself to see if he could do better but it always tastes best coming from you

an absolute menace in the grocery store; will spend the first 15-20 minutes behaving as he grabs whatever he needs personally and once that's done he's acting a fool; doing that thing that kids do when they use the cart as a skateboard like push off on it and then hop on to ride out the wave; grabbing all kinds of junk that neither of you need; touching everything even when he has no intention of buying it; you have to grab his ear and threaten him with celibacy to get him to calm down

whenever you’re sitting next to each other could be on the couch out at dinner in bed etc he likes to play with your hand and fiddle with your ring; will often slide it off and try to fit the ring on his fingers; then he’ll put it back on and kiss your fingertips for safekeeping

a/n: i worked on this for months and months and now it’s finally here lemme know what u thought 😩🙏

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lxvemaze · 5 months ago

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instagram stories with bf!yoongi

namjoon, jin, yoongi, hobi, jimin, taehyung, jungkook

#bts smau #bts x reader #bts fanfic #bts fluff #yoongi smau #yoongi x reader #yoongi fanfic #yoongi fluff #suga fanfic #suga x reader #suga smau #suga fluff

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btsugarush · 1 year ago

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GANGSTA | myg - 004

summary: rough sex, blood money, drugs, and gang related activity; four things you never predicted to experience in your simple life. not until you opened your mouth and caught his attention.

pairings: gang leader!yoongi x f!reader

warnings: smut, gunplay, drugs, drug addiction, dark!yoongi, drug lord!yoongi, strong language, gang violence, blood and gore, murder, manipulation, possessive/obsessive behavior, abuse, cheating, angst, fluff, dubcon, implied noncon (not from yoongi but within his gang with his knowledge), 18+, minors dni.

word count: 3.5K

authors note: yes, it is here. it only took me 76 years lmao. y’all best give me all the love since y’all wanted to be on my ass about this mf. anyway, enjoy the drama. also this was prewritren with the tags a long time ago so if you no longer wanted to be tagged or if you’re new and wanted to be tagged i’m sorry. the taglist got full but i try to switch out who i tag every chapter.

“Now, are you sure you’re okay? I can personally file a report for you.” Mr. Kim asked for the 6th time. You roll your eyes, fed up with the badgering. You didn’t understand why he cared so much anyway. He was the one that refused to listen to you when you tried to explain why it wouldn’t be a great idea for you to deliver in Gongdan.

You didn’t go into detail about the assault, or even bother to mention Yoongi being the reason it didn’t escalate. You simply just stated to him that you were attacked and managed to slip free.

Luckily for you though, the old man’s guilt for the attack led him to giving you the rest of the day off and you snatched that offer up immediately. Not like he needed your assistance, seeing as the restaurant was practically dead with only about 4 customers. “I’m fine, Mr. Kim. I promise.” You assure him one last time. “Alright then. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“See you tomorrow.” You exit the shop, the door dinging as you do. You spot Mina’s car sitting in front of the restaurant, and she smiles cheerfully as you climb inside. “Hey. Thanks for picking me up so early.” You sigh, buckling your seatbelt. “No problem… But why am I picking you up so early? And…” she leans forward, peaking at your ripped shirt. “Why is your shirt ripped?”

You scratch your head, the thought of explaining the situation to Mina made your brain itch. “I had to deliver at the Devil’s playground again, and got attacked.” You kept it short and sweet. Mina’s eyes widened in shock. “What?! Was it that Yoongi guy again?!”

You shake your head. “It wasn’t him, it was this group of guys. Yoongi was actually the one that saved me…” you twiddle with your fingers as your mind wanders about the raven. Mina arches a brow at the gentleness in your voice. “He saved you?” You nod slowly in response. “My god, what does he expect from you now? Sexual favors?”

Of course Mina has to be the most dramatic and think the worst possible thought of everything. “No, he didn’t ask me for any favors. Which I guess is surprising for someone with his track record.” You admit, pulling your bottom lip between your teeth. Mina starts up the car, finally moving from the restaurant premises. “Please don’t tell me you’re buddy buddy with that thug now?”

You scoff, letting your eyes roll back. “Of course not! The guy is a criminal, and stalker. I’d never befriend him,” You argue, crossing your arms. Yoongi may have saved you, but you weren’t swayed by his heroic charm. “Anyway, enough about me and my shitty day, it’s too traumatic to talk about. Did you have a talk with Jin like I suggested?” You change the subject. Mina’s face drops at the mention of her boyfriend’s name. “Yeah, we talked for about 2 minutes before it all blew up. Now we’re not on speaking terms,” She sighs. “I think maybe I should break up with him…”

You frown. ‘There she goes being the most dramatic again…’

“Mina, don’t be so damn hasty all the time.” You try to reason with the blonde. “I’m not!” She defended herself. “I’m just tired, y/n. I’m tired of trying to figure him out. I’d rather break up with him before he breaks up with me.”

Mina had never been the girl to get her heart broken. In high school she was the one always doing the heart breaking, so you could tell that it genuinely killed her to love someone as much as she loved Jin, and not know where his head was at regarding their relationship. “I don’t know, Mina… I just know if I was in your shoes with Kookie, I’d try to work things out before I think of the worst possible outcome.”

Mina pouts, but she doesn’t continue to speak. Whether she wanted to admit it or not, you were right. She shouldn’t just jump the gun and break up with Jin. Although he was acting strangely and it was confusing the hell out of her. “You know… I’m jealous of your relationship with Kookie.” She suddenly blurts, causing you to turn to her with a raised brow. “Huh?”

“I’m jealous,” she repeats. “Of you and Jungkook.”

You tilt your head to the side, your eyebrows now scrunched in curiosity. “Why?”

Mina simply shrugs, sitting quietly for a couple of minutes before answering. “You two match, and have an unbeatable connection. You started off as best friends, which played in your favor. I met Jin in the hospital because he had a broken arm. We don’t have the history you and Jungkook have.”

You smile at the compliment towards your relationship, but quickly shake your head. “History isn’t everything. Some people marry their high school sweethearts and breakup. You and Seokjin just need to be mature– or you at least.” Mina whips her head in your direction, her brows furrowed. “What do you mean by ‘or you at least’?”

“I mean that sometimes you’re immature. You tend to freak out when things don’t go your way and storm off like a child.” Mina snarls. “I’m not immature.” She muttered to herself, practically proving your point. The car finally slows down in front of your apartment before coming to a complete stop. “Thanks for the ride again, Mina. I appreciate you.”

“Of course. I’m mature enough to pick up my best friend when she needs me.” She glares, your previous comment still not sitting well with her. You shake your head, paying no mind to her attitude. “Bye, Mina. I hope everything works out with Jin.” You pushed open the car door, climbing out.

“Yeah, you and me both.” She mutters her last words before she waits for you to close the car door, speeding off into the distance with you standing there to watch. You let out a sigh, shrugging. What was the point of her asking for your advice if she was always going to dislike what you had to say?

You turn on your heels, walking up the steps that lead to your building entrance. As you venture down the hall to your apartment, you spot a shaggy haired man placing a bouquet of flowers right in front of your front door. A smile forms your face as you see the one person you longed to see after such a horrendous experience. “Kookie?”

The brunette jumps slightly, your sudden appearance catching him off guard. Once he registers that it’s you, he smiles as well. “Well shit, I wanted to surprise you with something sweet when you got off. Guess that’s a fail.” He scratches the back of his neck, chuckling. You shake your head, instantly embracing him with a hug. “It’s not a fail. I’m so happy to see you.” Even though you pretty much talked on the phone with Jungkook everyday, it felt like you hadn’t seen him in weeks.

Jungkook’s tattooed arms wrap around your waist, returning your gentle embrace. “I’m happy to see you too, angel. What’re you doing home so early though? I thought you weren’t off till 8:00?”

You bit down on your bottom lip. You wanted to start crying right there just thinking about what almost happened to you today. You hadn’t told him about your trip to Gongdan yesterday because you didn’t want him to worry, but now you felt as though he deserved to know this time. “I got attacked today.” You take a step back, showing him your torn shirt. Jungkook looks down, dumbfounded at how he hadn’t clocked your ripped shirt when you first walked in.

“By who?!” He shouts. “If it was Yoongi and his gang I swear to god–”

You shush Jungkook, looking around to make sure none of your neighbors were in the hallway eavesdropping. “Let’s talk about this inside, okay?” The brunette is pissed, but he nods, awaiting for you to open your apartment door. He grabs the flowers from the floor as you dig through your purse for your key. ‘I really need to get a keychain for this thing," you thought, finally finding the piece of metal in your bag.

You open the door, and Jungkook wastes no time storming in. He places the flowers on your kitchen table, pulling out a chair for you to sit and explain yourself. Even though he was angry he still focused on your wellbeing. You close the door, unsure if you really wanted to recite the situation. Too late to change your mind now though.

You shuffle to the seat that Jungkook pulled out for you, plopping down. “So? Was it Yoongi’s doing?”

How do you even begin to explain all of this? Yes, but not really? While Yoongi was the reason you ended up in Gongdan, he isn’t the one that attacked you. But he has taken a weird interest in you ever since the Makoto showdown between you and his trusty stooge. If you told Jungkook that though, he'd just spend every moment trying to protect you and probably do something unnecessary to get himself hurt. You didn’t want that.

So, maybe it was best to embellish the truth a bit and leave Yoongi out of it.

“I had a delivery in Gongdan today. Jimin was out sick, and I was the only one that could deliver it. A group of guys attacked me on my way back to the restaurant.” Jungkook furrowed his eyebrows. “You had a delivery at the devil’s playground and you took it? What the hell were you thinking?”

“I was thinking that I had to do my job. I had no choice, Kookie. Mr. Kim wasn’t letting me out of it. Believe me, I tried.” The brunette scoffed, redirecting his anger to Mr. Kim. “I should go down there and kick that old man’s ass,” He muttered. Jungkook was never too fond of Mr. Kim. He thought the old man could be a bit misogynistic.

“Did they hurt you?” His voice is now more tender. You shook your head. “No. I’m fine,” You assure him. “The only thing that got hurt is my precious shirt.” You laugh a bit, trying to lighten the mood. “Did they just let you go? How’d you get free?” He pressed on.

“Umm…” you trail off, your thoughts once again wandering to the raven haired man.

“So Wonder Woman, you ready to accept that ride today?”

“They got scared off by someone that happened to be walking by. Lucky me, huh?”

Jungkook sighs smoothly, crouching down in front of your chair. He takes your hands in his, interlocking your fingers. “I’m glad you’re okay, y/n. I hate to know you experienced that and I wasn’t there.” He frowns, leering down at your hands. “Jungkook, you’re not gonna be able to be there for everything, and that’s okay. You’re here now, when I need you the most.”

Jungkook looks up at you. “And I’ll stay here.”

“Please remind me to stop letting you pick out movies. You always pick the cheesiest ones.” Jungkook grimaced as you two reached the end of your movie. You wiped stray tears from your eyes, glaring over at your soon-to-be boyfriend. “The Princess Diaries is a classic. I love it.” Jungkook snorts, shaking his head. “Yeah, well next time I’m picking the movie. Your selection sucks.”

You gasp, taking a pillow from the other end of the couch. “Take that back.” You cock the pillow, ready to deliver a blow. “Okay, okay. I’m sorry… that you’re ass at picking movies.” You swing the pillow down on him, and his hands go up in self defense as he laughs, his back landing on the couch cushions to better protect his face. You take this advantage to straddle the brunette’s waist, continuing your attack until he ultimately surrenders. “Okay, I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” You finally toss the pillow back down to the end of the couch, a victory smirk plastered on your face. “I knew you’d see it my way.”

“Hard not to when I’m being attacked by a pillow.” He looks up at you, still straddling his waist. Jungkook’s hands slowly roam up your legs, stopping to grip your hips. “You’re so beautiful, you know that?” Your cheeks heated up with the compliment, and you felt a sudden wave of warmth between your legs that made you anxious. This was it. There was no better time than this to lose your virginity to Jungkook.

You lean forward, pressing your lips to his pierced ones, the metal was cold against you; Jungkook didn’t hold back, or hesitate the moment your lips were against his. Your mouths moved in sync, but sloppily at the same time as though you both wanted it real bad– and you did. Jungkook’s hands moved from your hips, reaching back to cup your ass in his hands, giving your cheeks a squeeze.

You moaned softly into his mouth, rolling your hips over the rough fabric of his jeans until you felt his cock harden underneath you. Jungkook made sure to assist you, his hands pressing you down harder against his confined length. Your panties were soaked, and your mind was in a daze. You were sure that you had dampened his jeans by now. “Fuck, Y/n…” he muttered in between kisses. “We have to stop before I can’t stop.”

“Then don’t stop, I want this.” You whine, rolling your hips faster. Jungkook moans, eyes squeezing shut. “Fuck, I can’t.” He grabs your hips, forcing you to stop. You take the hint, but you can’t help the pang in your chest. Was there something wrong with you? You didn’t get it. What was he waiting for? You climb off of him, taking your place back on the couch.

It’s silent as Jungkook sits up on the couch, running his fingers through his hair. “Y/n…”

“Save it,” You cut him short. “You don’t want to have sex with me, I get it.” Jungkook shakes his head. “That’s not true. I do.” He argued. You scoff, rolling your eyes. “So then what’s the problem? I’m always practically giving signals that I’m ready and you’re holding back. You have never done that with any girl you’ve dated before me.”

“You’re not any girl I’ve dated before you.”

“Right, I’m y/n, the girl that’s been your best friend for years and the truth is that’s probably all you see me as.” Jungkook says nothing, he doesn’t even bother to argue because that’s just something he hates doing with you. “I uh… I should go.”

“Then go.” You snapped. Jungkook nods, standing up from the couch. As he walks to the front door, he looks back at you. You don’t look his way, you just continue to stare forward. “You’re not any girl I’ve dated before you.” He repeats; those are his final words before he opens the door and leaves.

Your eyes brim with tears as you finally turn, looking towards the table where Jungkook’s bouquet of flowers sat.

“Well well well, look who made a full recovery today.” You eye Jimin taking orders as you walk into Makoto. Jimin smiles at you, happy to see you in what felt like forever since you two worked together. “Y/n, it’s good to see you too.” He greets. You cross your arms, not in a greeting mood. “I have a bone to pick with you once you’re done here.” You say, walking back to the kitchen to clock in.

“Y/n, good afternoon. How are you feeling today?” Mr. Kim asks you as you grab an apron from the hook, tying the black fabric around your waist. “It’s a Monday, how am I supposed to be feeling?” You speak dreadfully. You barely got any sleep after what happened last night with Jungkook, and now you were at work. Jungkook hadn’t even called or texted you. Not that you wanted him to right now.

“Well, I meant everything that happened yesterday, how are you feeling today?” He reiterates. You grab a time card, swiping it through the clock. “I’m fine, Mr. Kim.” You walk past him, taking a notepad and pen from the cup holder. Jimin walks back into the kitchen, his face suddenly pale like he was ready to puke. Maybe he was sick.

“Hey, um, there’s someone out there at table three that’s requesting for you to take their order.” He says, scratching the back of his neck. You raise a skeptical brow. ‘Requesting me? Could it be Jungkook?’ You thought. Maybe he wanted to talk in person instead of over the phone. You didn’t see why he couldn’t have waited until your shift was over and come to your apartment, but you didn’t argue with the gesture.

“Okay…?” You walk out of the kitchen towards the dining area. As you scope out table three, you don’t see Jungkook, but in fact, Yoongi, Joon, and two other guys you don’t know. That’s why Jimin looked so sickly. You shake your head, sauntering over to their table. “What’re you doing here? Was yesterday not enough?” You snap at Yoongi.

“Nice to see you too,” the raven laughs, leaning back in his chair. “Yesterday is the reason I’m here in person, sweetheart. Wouldn’t want you getting your pretty self into any more trouble in my hood.” He smirked. “You remember my boy Joon, don’t you?”

“Wonder Woman, it’s good to see you again.” You glare at Joon, rolling your eyes. You didn’t have time for this. Yoongi was the last person you cared to see right now, and you definitely never wanted to see Nam-joon again. “So are you here to order something or are you here to be the bane of my existence?”

“Depends… are you on the menu?” He bites his bottom lip, looking you up and down. Joon, and Yoongi’s other two minions snicker and you’ve decided you’ve had enough of this pig fest. “Okay, goodbye.” You turn to head back to the kitchen, but Yoongi stops you by grabbing your wrist. “I’m just joking around, sweetheart. I’m here to ask you something.” You pull your wrist from his grip, turning back to face him. “Ask me what?”

“Well, I’m having this kickback at my place tonight. I want you to slide through.” You scrunch your eyebrows together in confusion. “What on earth would make you think I’d dare to step foot into Gongdan again? And what makes you think I’d go to your shifty ass warehouse?”

“Well, I just thought after my heroism the other day you would want to thank me more properly.” You scoffed. Mina was right. He was expecting some kind of sexual favor from you. “I knew it. You only helped because you thought you could use me later on. I should’ve expected that from someone like you.” You leave their table, making your way back towards the kitchen, but this time Yoongi stands up from his seat to follow you.

“Princess,” He stops you again, his hand grazing your waist, but he doesn’t fully touch you in a manner that came across as though he was trying to respect your boundaries–for once. He steps in front of you, blocking your way to the kitchen. “It’s not like that. I helped you because I wanted to.”

“Is that so? Because it truly didn’t seem like it just a second ago.” You snarled, crossing your arms. The raven makes a “tsk” sound before continuing on. “Sweetheart, if that’s all I wanted from you then I would’ve made you give it to me right there in the alleyway. Regardless of what happened,” His face was stone cold serious. He meant that. You stood silent, not knowing what to say next.

“Listen… sometimes I have these kickbacks, and they’re a vibe, but it would be better if I saw your pretty face there.” His voice is soft, so soft that you didn’t think someone like Yoongi could produce such a tone. “I don’t think it would be a good idea for me to take a bus through Gongdan at night.”

“So don’t. I’ll pick you up.”

You sigh, slowly feeling yourself ready to cave in and you didn’t know why. You literally could not stand this man. He was a stalker for fuck sakes. A criminal. And yet… here you were ready to accept his invitation because of one good gesture, and a sudden softness to his voice. Yoongi’s eyes search for yours until they lock, a smile forming his face. For a moment as you're looking into the raven’s eyes you begin to question is he really the monster he makes people believe? Or is that all for looks?

“Hey, can we get the check please?” A customer calls out. Your eyes snap away from Yoongi’s. You had almost forgotten you were at work. “Look, I have to get back to work. I’ll… I’ll let you know.” You take your notepad, writing down your phone number. As you rip the paper from the pad, you actually begin to question your sanity. You hand the paper to Yoongi, his lips tilting in a sly smirk as he takes it.

“I look forward to hearing from you, princess.”

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gggukniverse · 1 year ago

Text

basic needs | jjk, myg

title: basic needs

pairing: jungkook x f!reader, yoongi x f!reader

rating/genre: m, smut, roommates au

summary: missing sex while being stuck in your apartment with your two roommates during quarantine is being the worst nightmare you could've imagined. fortunately, you're not the only one who's touch starved.

warnings: sexual tension, getting caught during sex, voyeurism, edging, dirty talk, protected and unprotected sex (pls be safe y'all), creampie, oral (f receiving), multiple orgasms (f receiving), cum eating, finger sucking, hair pulling, praising, begging, reader gets called a whore once, a little yoongi x jungkook 👀.

wordcount: 6k

note: okay... i don't know where this came from like i didn't even know i had all of this in me 🧍🏻‍♀️ i kept gasping at my own writing, i think i got too carried away haha i just hope you like it. also pls keep in mind english is noth my first language !! let's go !

–

yoongi has been in his room all afternoon, something about working on a new track, and jungkook is currently taking a shower so you have the living room for yourself, some old sitcom playing on the background but you're paying more attention to your phone. that's until you hear footsteps coming into the living room from the corridor.

"hey, loser." jungkook greets you as he ruffles his damp hair from the shower with his hands.

you hate yourself for pausing to look at his toned body, the fucker walked out of the bathroom shirtless. you blame it on your lack of sex.

"what are you watching?" he doesn't seem to notice or care about you looking at his abs, his eyes narrowed towards the tv while he puts on the shirt he was grabbing.

"i'm not really watching anything... you can play whatever you want." you try to act unbothered when he decides to grab both of your legs and raise them a little to sit on the couch to then let them fall on his lap, letting you stay lying down. his warm hands on your bare legs make you get goosebumps and you pray he doesn't notice.

what the hell is happening to you? get it together, it's just jungkook.

"wanna watch a movie?" jungkook looks at you and starts to run his fingertips through your legs in a soothing way. you're gonna go crazy over how nice it feels after being touch starved for so long.

"sure." you shrug, trying to focus on your twitter timeline and not on his hands caressing your legs.

one of his hands moves away from your legs to grab the remote on the armrest of the couch and soon after he's opening the netflix app on the tv. you turn your head to look at him when you feel his free hand starting to caress your skin again while he looks through the movies catalog. he's not looking at you so you take the opportunity to really look at his hand.

the inked hand looks strangely nice against your pale skin. his hands are actually really nice, they're big too, you wonder how they would feel–

"anything in mind?" his voice thanfully brings you back to reality and you panic, quickly looking up at his face. he's still not looking at you.

it's impossible he knows you were staring at him, right?

"what?" you mutter with wide eyes and he finally throws you a quick glance before looking back at the tv.

"any movie you'd like to watch?"

oh.

"uh... i don't really have any in mind, you can play what you want."

"sure there's not any cheesy romantic movie you want to watch?" he's teasing you now. it's not the first time he's complained about you always watching romantic movies.

"shut up, i know you like them too," and he does. you've caught him tearing up that time you watched the notebook together. "just play something already."

"i don't know what to play, though." he keeps scrolling through all of the movies.

"okay. keep scrolling and close your eyes, stop whenever you want to and open your eyes. we'll watch that." you propose and he narrows his eyes as if he's thinking about it but ends up nodding. "close your eyes then."

you see him closing his eyes and hear the sound of the scrolling on the tv so you keep staring at him in case he cheats.

"that one." jungkook stops and opens his eyes just at the same time you turn to the tv.

"i don't know that one." you mutter after reading the title.

"a romantic one, you won." he teases again while he silently reads the synopsis and you sigh, rolling your eyes back.

"c'mon, play it."

you're pleased when the movie turns out to be kinda good. it's just another really cliché romantic story but you love movies like that. jungkook is enjoying it too even though he tries to act it out. you smile each time he makes a comment about the movie, he can never shut up when watching something.

"stuff like that doesn't happen in real life." he says and you let out a chuckle.

"it's a movie, kook." tou reply and try not to think about his hands still caressing your legs. it's been like that during all the movie, maybe he hasn't even noticed he's still doing it.

it's nothing new that jungkook is a really touchy person, he's always been touchy with you and even with yoongi, he likes to cuddle, likes to touch your hair. but this time it feels so different because of the lack of touch you've been having. it is so embarrassing to admit how nice his hands feel on you.

never in two years living with him would you have imagined jungkook could be quiet during a movie until a sex scene comes up. he suddenly goes quiet. his hand stops moving.

it's awkward. it's always awkward to watch a sex scene with someone else. if you were watching the movie with your best friend it would be totally different, but this is jungkook, your roommate, your roommate you don't have any type of relationship outside this apartment.

you feel tense, your whole body feels tense, and you pray that he doesn't notice. but you flinch when his hand squeezes your thigh a little too hard.

"oh shit, sorry." he apologizes quickly with a chuckle that seems way too forced.

good, you're both tense and awkward.

"don't worry." you reply just as quickly and he nods before turning back to the tv. he looks so focused on the movie, like he's holding his breath. you only realize you've been staring when he looks back at you.

"you okay?" jungkook is looking at you with a soft smile but also with something in his eyes you've never really seen on him.

"y-yeah," you wanna punch yourself in the face for stuttering but manage to move your legs off his lap to stand up from the couch. "i need something to drink, you keep watching the movie." your bare feet are already guiding you to the kitchen when you hear him humming.

maybe you end up spending too much time in the kitchen. you chug down a glass of water as soon as you get there but when you're finished you leave the glass on the sink and then you lean back on the isle, taking a deep breath and trying to calm down.

you hate how you can still feel jungkook's touch on your legs, how he looked so immersed in the movie, how you can't stop thinking about him squeezing a little too hard when the girl in the movie let out a loud moan, how his gaze was so dark when he looked at you, how you needed to feel his hands on you again.

god, you really need to have sex.

the door creaking open makes you snap out of your thoughts and look up. you quickly straighten up and clear your throat. jungkook is right there by the door looking at you.

"hey," he says nonchalantly and walks to the fridge. "you okay?" his voice is quiet as he grabs the bottle of orange juice.

"yeah! perfectly fine." you nod while he takes a sip of the juice.

he hums and closes the bottle. "you were taking too long, you're gonna miss the rest of the movie."

"yeah, i-"

"i'm not dumb, y/n. you can say you were uncomfortable because of the movie." he chuckles and you feel so stupid.

"no! i wasn't uncomfortable.. it's just- i-" you struggle to find the words and just feel even more stupid

"what is it?" he arches an eyebrow and walks to stand next to you, leaning back against the kitchen isle too.

"i just... fuck, i need to have sex." you snap and run your hands through your hair in frustration. "i'm gonna go crazy if i have to stay inside this house one more fucking day. i haven't had sex in three months."

"we've been quarantined for a month." jungkook points out looking at you with narrowed eyes like he's about to say something else.

"i know, shut up." you stop him before he dares to tease you for it.

"i get it." he says after a few seconds in silence and now you're the one frowning and looking at him.

"huh?"

"i need to have sex too."

oh.

"i get your frustration, sometimes i feel like i'm gonna go crazy too." he looks forward, avoiding your stare.

"oh yeah, i'm sure you're not used to not having a girl bouncing on your dick every single night." the comment was meant to tease him but you just end up feeling your heart start beating too fast at the thought of bouncing on a dick too.

you place your hands on the isle right behind your back and jump a little to sit on top of it, hissing a little because of the cold surface on your exposed thighs.

"hey, it wasn't like that before quarantine!" jungkook whines and pouts like a child and it causes a chuckle to escape your lips. "i wish, though."

"you're gross."

"as if you didn't want to bounce on a dick every single night." he looks at you with an arched eyebrow and a little smirk.

a weird feeling between your legs makes you close them instantly and you swear you can see jungkook looking down really quick before turning and walking back to the fridge to leave the juice bottle back in. when he turns around again you have to fight back a gasp at the sight of the tent he has on his sweatpants. jungkook is hard.

it's embarrasing how bad you need some dick now, it really is, but you look down and close your legs even tighter.

"i should... go to sleep, it's kinda late." you mutter and as soon as you're gonna hop off the counter there's a hand right next to your thigh on the counter.

"wait." jungkook says and you have to look up, he's standing right in front of you.

"yeah?" your voice is just as quiet as before.

"did you get worked up watching the movie?" he asks with a little knowing smile and you want to die from embarrassment.

"no!" you lie, pushing him back a little. "i didn't." you shake your head but he only chuckles, your head is lowering down again.

"it's okay, y/n." his hand brushes against your exposed thigh from where it's placed on the counter and you shiver.

"i didn't." you insist even though you know you're being so fucking obvious.

"open your legs."

a whine escapes your lips at the simple words and you're so embarrassed you wanna die, your face feels so hot.

"jungkook..." you don't want to look up at him but he just moves even closer.

"i know," he coos like he's sorry for you. and it is hot. "it's been so long since someone has talked to you like this, right?"

you just hum in response and shiver again when he pushes one of your strands of hair behind your ear.

"you need someone to take care of you, right?" he purrs, his lips softly brushing against your ear.

"fuck." you sigh and finally look up. "jungkook."

"you need it just as much as me." he says looking right into your eyes. "if you let me..."

"please."

you can't even think straight anymore.

"please, what?"

you don't answer, just spread your legs. he closes his eyes and exhales through his nose.

"y/n."

"please, touch me." you don't think you've ever heard your voice come out so whiny but jungkook seems to like it because he's immediately taking the last step forward he can take and gets between your thighs, placing his hands on your thighs.

"say that again." he says, looking down at your lips.

"touch me." you don't even think about it, because that would probably fuck everything up. it's better this way.

jungkook looks down between your bodies and one of his hands goes up your thigh until it reaches the fabric of your shorts, then it goes up to the elastic waistband. you keep your eyes on his face while he slips his hand under your shorts and finds the wet patch in your panties with his fingers. the groan that leaves his lips when he gets to feel how wet you are is louder than the moan you let out at the same time.

"holy fuck, you're so wet." his fingers start moving slowly against your clothed folds.

"fuck, kook." you sigh and move your hips even closer to him, trying to chase the feeling of his fingers on you.

"mhh... i know," jungkook coos again and you know you're gonna go crazy if he keeps taking to you like that. "feels good, right?" he hums and you're about to respond when he pushes your panties to the side and really touches you.

"fuck." you throw your head back as he runs his fingers through your wet folds.

"god, you're dripping. making a mess down here." jungkook groans and looks up at you. you must be a blushing mess already, your cheeks are burning and you literally feel lightheaded even if you haven't even done anything yet. "please, let me kiss you." he almost begs and you suddenly feel like you're gonna melt right on that counter.

before he can ask again you're throwing your arms around his neck and pulling him into a desperate kiss. you don't know if you're really fucking turned on or if he's just a really good kisser but you melt into the kiss. jungkook swallows the moans that escape your lips when he slips a finger inside so easily and starts fucking you with it.

"kook..." you moan against his lips. it feels so good to be touched again that your legs are already shaking.

"pretty." jungkook says and starts moving down, leaving a couple kisses on your jaw before kissing and sucking on your neck.

"jungkook- fuck." you sigh, tugging at his hair desperately. "seriously, it's been... it's been so long."

"i know." jungkook hums against your neck and sucks a mark on it as he adds another finger inside you.

"feels so good." you moan and a little squeak slips out of your mouth when he curls his fingers inside of you and finds that sweet spot. "it's so... fuck, it's so soon but i'm gonna cum, kook." you don't even have the mind to be embarrassed about it. it feels too good.

but jungkook suddenly stops kissing your neck and pulls back completely, his hand moving away from inside your pants. the complain about to slip out of your mouth dies in your throat when you see him sucking on his fingers and groaning.

"fuck, so sweet."

you're gonna go crazy.

"your feet on the ground, and turn around." he orders and you're so desperate you obey right away, jumping from the counter and turning around to give him your back. "you need to tell me if you really want this because it's gonna be easier to just stop now." one of his hands finds your waist and he pulls you against his body, you moan at the feeling of his clothed hard dick against your ass.

"yes, fuck, yes please." you breathe out and feel his hands on the waistband of your shorts, pulling them down immediately along with your panties. "wait, wait."

"mh?"

"yoongi, he's home." you mentally applaud your brain for being rational enough to remember you're not alone in the house.

"he doesn't leave his room for hours, don't worry about." he shrugs and you can see him pulling his sweatpants down.

"but- ah!" you whine when he pushes one of your feet further to the side so your legs spread a little more. "jungkook..." you want to insist on the fact that you're not alone but his fingers find your pussy again.

"you're fucking dripping." he sighs and easily slips two fingers inside, making you put your hand on your mouth not to be loud. "fuck, so tight."

you can't help but bend down on the counter, pushing your ass towards him to chase his fingers. jungkook straight up moans at the sight.

"please, need you inside." you whimper when he adds a third finger and starts fucking you with them at a pace that drives you crazy.

"what was that?" he asks and moves even faster. the fucker is teasing you.

"kook, need you to fuck me."

he doesn't seem to think about it twice before he reaches for one of the kitchen drawers where a box of condoms is hidden and takes one out. you can notice he's trying to hold himself back and take his time with you but he's just as eager as you, so he can't slow down now.

"you sure about this, right?" he asks. you're looking at him over your shoulder as he rolls the condom down his cock.

"i'm fucking dripping, kook. of course i'm sure." you're starting to get anxious, you wiggle your ass just to let him know you're ready for him.

a little sigh leaves your mouth when jungkook rubs his tip against your folds, just when you think he's about to slip inside he just rubs it again.

"fucking tease." you mutter with your cheek pressed against the cold surface of the counter. "just fuck m- oh!" you can't help the moan that leaves your mouth when he slips inside all the way.

"shit, so tight." jungkook hisses behind you and you whine, your walls clenching so hard around him. his hands grip on your hips so hard you're sure it's gonna leave a mark.

"it's been.. too long- fuck." you remind him as he pulls back a little just to thrust inside again.

"yeah, me too, i'm not gonna last." He warns and you almost giggle because at least you're both equally desperate.

"i don't care, just make me cum." you beg through a moan when he thrusts inside again.

"come here." one of his arms wraps around your waist and straightens you up so your back is arched against his chest, keeping you in place. you're both still wearing your shirts and your pants and underwear are just pooling by your ankles, so horny you didn't even waste time to get undressed.

"holy fuck!" you gasp when his thrusts hit a different way in the new angle and soon after, jungkook's hand is over your mouth.

"want every fucking neighbor to hear you?" he whispers against your ear and you feel your walls clenching around him again. "fuck, y/n, keep doing that and i'll cum in two seconds." his hand drops from your mouth to your neck, wrapping his fingers around it but not adding any pressure, just keeping you in place.

"so big." you whimper helplessly, your hands still flat on the counter because you feel like your legs could betray you right now. "you feel so fucking good."

you feel his hand closing a little around your neck and your eyes roll back at the feeling, he starts fucking you even faster. there are drops of sweat rolling down your forehead already but you don't care, not when you're finally having a cock inside of you. and god, he's fucking you good, so good that you don't feel embarrassed at how close you feel already.

"feels good?" jungkook hums and you can only whine in response. "fuck, your pussy is swallowing my cock, y/n, doesn't want me to leave." he groans and his thrusts are so hard that you're starting to see white dots. "you're so good, y/n."

"f-fuck... please, need... need to cum." you must sound pathetic right now but you can't bring yourself to care. "touch me, kook, make me cum."

his free hand is moving quickly, finding your clit again and rubbing fast circles that almost make you start crying.

"gonna cum, baby?" you feel his lips brushing against your ear as he whispers. the pet name makes you clench even harder around him. "wanna cum on my cock?" he sounds so gone too, you know he's close too. if you knew he was gonna fuck you this good you would've actually taken your time with him, but you let it pass for now because you're both needy and just need to get off.

"yeah." you unconsciously let out the most pornographic moan you've ever heard from yourself and jungkook start giving sloppy thrusts, you're both so close. "kook, i'm gonna cum." you manage to let out and right after your mouth can't even make sounds anymore.

"fuck, y/n."

you're so close. you're gonne cum. so fucking close.

but the door creaks open and you both freeze, not being able to contain your moans at the feeling of jungkook bottoming out once again.

"yoongi!" you scream at the boy standing by the door at the same time as jungkook screams 'hyung!'. you try your best to cover yourself by pulling your shirt down. jungkook's hand drops from your neck to rest on your waist.

"oh, don't stop." yoongi shrugs as if he's just caught you chopping vegetables.

"huh?" jungkook mutters behind you and you can feel it about to move away but you reach for his thigh with your hand to keep him there.

"kook, please." you don't know what got into you. you're so desperate to cum you don't even mind yoongi being there in front of you.

"see? she wants you to keep going." yoongi's voice is so calm as he slowly walks towards you, leaning back against the counter, just right next to where you both are.

you look down as your cheeks start burning and you clench around jungkook. why the hell are you getting turned on by being watched by your roommate while getting fucked by your other roommate?

"fuck, y/n." you know jungkook is hissing because you got impossibly tight around him and you can hear Yoongi's little chuckle. "you're just gonna stand there?" the younger asks his friend.

"i don't think she minds." yoongi replies and you can almost see the smug smile on his face even if you're staring at the counter.

"y/n?" jungkook mutters behind you but you don't answer. you're so close, so embarrassed and so turned on that you're scared your voice will come out in a pathetic whine.

"y/n," yoongi's deeper voice calls for you too but you don't reply either. "look at me, y/n," he speaks again and you bite your lip not to let out another moan because you're sure you're currently creaming jungkook's cock. "pull her hair so she looks at me, jungkook."

your breath hitches then the youngest does just as yoongi says and a moan finally escapes your throat as he tugs at your hair and brings your head up, turning it a little to the side so you can face the boy beside you. he's handling you as if you were a doll. and the second you lock eyes with yoongi you feel numb. his eyes are so dark, you've never really seen him looking at you like that. a little smirk grows on his face as he looks all over your face. you probably look a mess.

"do you want me to stay?" he asks with an unusual soft voice that makes your legs shake.

"hyung." jungkook says with a warning tone, his cock throbbing inside you. he needs to cum too.

"shut up," yoongi gives jungkook a quick look and turns to you again. "y/n?" the words don't even leave your mouth, you can't speak. "what? jungkookie was fucking you so good you can't even talk?" he speaks with a condescending tone, like he's sorry for you. you close your eyes as you clench around jungkook again.

"fuck, y/n." jungkook's free hand squeezes the flesh on your hip.

"keep fucking her, kook," yoongi finally says. "let's see if you can make her talk again."

jungkook doesn't need to be told twice because he lets go of your hair and starts moving again without even questioning him. your head stays in place for yoongi to see you but your eyes are still closed. you must be going crazy because you don't think you've ever felt this good during sex and it is just a quick fuck in the kitchen with your roommate while your other roommate looks at you.

after a specific thrust that hits just where you need it you arch your back until your head falls on jungkook's shoulder, you throw one of your arms behind you so you can reach jungkook's hair and keep him close. your fingers tangle with the soft locks while he fucks you at a brutal pace.

"right there, kook..." you moan.

"like that?" he whines, fucking whines, against your ear as he keeps thrusting against that sweet spot inside you and you nod frantically. one of his hands stays on the counter right next to yours and the other sneaks under your shirt and finally cups over one of your boobs, a groan hits your ear.

"s-sensitive.." you warn him but he squeezes your boob anyway. you cry out. you're so close again, so fucking close.

"stop." yoongi says and jungkook halts his movements immediately as if he was under his spell.

"fuck, yoongi." you choke on a moan. when you open your eyes you can see yoongi looking down at where your bodies meet, then he looks at jungkook.

"jungkook," yoongi says and jungkook hums in response. "you got tested when i did, you're clean." he tells him and then he looks at you. "are you clean? and on the pill?"

"yeah," you nod. "yes to both." you suddenly feel shy again. they both sigh at your answer and you gulp, watching yoongi turning to jungkook with an arched eyebrow.

"then why are you wearing a condom?" yoongi asks. and he's not wrong. you usually didn't risk it, you always use to have protected sex, but now that you see it like this you wonder why you didn't ask jungkook if he was clean from the start.

"hyung... i don't know if she-" jungkook mutters like he's not sure but you can clearly feel his cock twitching inside you.

"do you want him to wear the condom?" yoongi asks you, his voice still calm and his look unbothered.

"y/n, you don't have t-"

"take it off." you cut Jungkook off and yoongi smiles. you feel so nice after seeing his reaction that you wonder if you're doing this just to make him feel proud. it feels good.

"pull out, kookie," yoongi says and walks towards him, you turn your head to look back at them. jungkook obeys quickly, your walls squeezing him like you want to keep him inside. "good," yours and jungkook's breaths hitch when yoongi himself takes the condom off of his cock and goes to throw it on the trash. "you leaked a lot, damn." he say through a breathy chuckle when he comes back and decides to stand right behind jungkook.

"hyung."

"she must feel good, right?" yoongi is suddenly resting his chin on his shoulder and looking down. your eyes follow yoongi's and then roll back when you see yoongi's hand wrapping around jungkook's cock and slowly stroking him to spread the precum on his tip all over his length.

"fuck, hyung." the boy moans and your pussy throbs.

god, this is so fucking hot you could cum if they kept that going for a little longer. but yoongi drops his sticky hand and looks at you tilting his head and lightly raising his eyebrows.

"open your mouth." he says and you don't question him, just open your mouth and welcome two of his fingers inside.

you moan around them as you suck and swallow jungkook's taste off them while yoongi stares at your lips, his tongue licking the corner of his lips.

"clean my hand." his fingers drop from your mouth and you stick your tongue out, one of your hands wrapping around his wrist while you run your tongue all over his palm and fingers, cleaning jungkook off of him.

they're both looking at you like they want to eat you up and you feel so powerful yet you can feel your arousal dripping down your thighs by this point. yoongi drops his hand when you've cleaned it completely and then looks at jungkook.

"c'mon, kookie, fuck her now." he says really close to jungkook's ear and the younger obeys instantly, slipping inside you and groaning at the feeling. "good boy." yoongi chuckles as jungkook bottoms out.

"so good." you moan, already feeling the clear difference in having him inside with nothing in between. a whimper is forced out of your mouth when jungkook starts thrusting into you again.

"that feels good, right?" yoongi asks and moves to stand beside you again, to watch it all happen.

"mhm..." you moan. "please... jungkook- please."

"so pretty when you beg." yoongi puts his fingers under your chin to make you look at him. "such a pretty whore."

"oh my god!" your eyes roll back. you feel yourself just a second away from coming. "gonna cum... fuck..."

"yeah, i can fucking feel you." jungkook breathes out. "fuck." his thrusts become sloppy real fast. he's close too.

"jungkook..." you completely bend over the counter again because your arms can't support your weight anymore, your cheek gets smushed against the cold surface. "i'm- shit... i'm coming." you whimper.

"then cum." yoongi's voice is all you need to get there. a shocking wave of pleasure runs through your whole body while you clench hard around him.

"shit, so tight." jungkook mutters behind you and one of your weak arms reaches behind to grab at his thigh. "so close, y/n."

"please." your whole body is shaking with oversensitivity.

"want me to pull out?" jungkook asks.

"no... please," you beg. "come inside, baby." you cry out.

"c'mon jungkook, cum." yoongi says and that seems like enough for jungkook too, because you feel his throbbing cock releasing inside of you.

"fuck," jungkook mumbles. "y/n, come here." his hands are on your waist again.

"i can't." you let out a weak chuckle but jungkook is suddenly wrapping his arms around you and pulling you up.

"need to kiss you." he says and you immediately turn your head to find his lips. you kiss him slow, nothing like the kisses you shared before, and it feels good to kiss jungkook like that.

he's the one that breaks the kiss and when you try to chase his lips again he just chuckles and gives your hip a soft slap.

"kiss yoongi too." he whispers just at the same time as you feel a hand wrapping around your neck.

yoongi's lips are on yours as soon as you turn around. you hum through the kiss and bring one of your hands up to his cheek, tilting his head a little to deepen the kiss. he swallows your moan when jungkook's cock finally slips out of you and you feel his cum spilling out. yoongi breaks the kiss when jungkook mumbles something you can't really hear.

"shit..." you close your legs when you feel jungkook's cum spilling out and dripping down your thigh. "it's so messy."

"not for long," yoongi suddenly grabs you and brings you to the fridge, making you lean back against it as he drops to his knees in front of you. you stop breathing for a second. "i'm gonna clean you up."

"hyung," jungkook calls him as he puts on his sweatpants again. "you're gonna-"

"do you think this is my first time tasting cum?" yoongi throws him a quick glance and you swear you see jungkook blushing for a moment.

yoongi turns to you again and grabs one of your thighs, throwing it over his shoulder and diving in with no warning.

"yoongi, fuck!" you throw your head back as one of your hands goes to his hair. he hums against your pussy and laps at your entrance, from where jungkook's cum keeps spilling out.

"that's so fucking hot." jungkook sighs but you can't open your eyes to look at him, you keep them closed.

"yoongi, you're gonna- gonna make me cum again." you mumble, your only leg supporting you starting to shake but yoongi keeps you steady with one hand on your waist and the other on your thigh over his shoulder. and the warning that you're gonna cum only makes yoongi push you further to the edge, sucking on your clit and basically burying his face on your pussy like he's starving for you. "yoongi, oh my- fuck, oh my god!"

you don't know what to do with your hands anymore, one of them stays on his hair while the other ends on your mouth to try and stop the pathetic noises from coming out. though one hand is suddenly grabbing that arm and pulling it down.

it's yoongi. he detaches his mouth from you to say, "i wanna hear you." and suddenly slips two fingers inside you.

"sensitive..." you mumble, your legs shaking again and threatening to close even if yoongi's head is between them.

"gotta clean you well," yoongi says. "jungkookie had a big load for you, huh?" he chuckles again.

you've never heard something so hot in your entire life. jungkook must think the same because he groans somewhere in the kitchen, you don't see him because you're too busy holding yoongi's eye contact.

"you like me cleaning jungkookie off your pussy?" yoongi asks you and gives your clit another little lick as he fucks the cum out of you with his fingers. "dirty girl."

"please, yoongi."

"love hearing you say that." he smirks as he pulls his fingers out of you and brings them to his mouth, cleaning them with his tongue.

"hyung, jesus fucking christ." jungkook sighs while yoongi goes back to eating you out like he's wanted it for months.

"i'm gonna cum, yoongi- ah!" you throw your head back against the fridge again when yoongi sucks on your clit and starts fucking you with his fingers again. "oh, right there!" his fingers keep brushing against that sweet spot and you're sure you're gonna cum soon.

it doesn't take long for you to cum on his mouth and fingers, yoongi gives your pussy one last kiss before placing another one on your thigh still on his shoulder and finally puts it down.

"you're okay?" yoongi asks you as he stands up and cups your face with his hands to check on you.

"yeah," you nod. "just a little dizzy."

"i'm sure you're tired." he brushes his thumbs on your cheeks affectionately and your eyes close on their own. "i'll go prepare a bath for you, okay?" he says and kisses your forehead.

and holy fuck, you never thought that thing people said about feeling butterflies in your stomach was real but now you can feel them because as soon as yoongi pulls away, you feel another kiss on your cheek from jungkook.

"you were amazing." he tells you and you have half a mind to smile.

"wait," you turn to the door where yoongi is already making his way to the bathroom. "yoongi!" you call out for him and he quickly turns around.

"yeah?" he asks and your eyes go down to his crotch. he's hard. of course he is.

"do you... want help with that?" you ask shyly but he just waves a hand dismissively.

"don't worry about it, you're completely spent, you should rest now." yoongi replies sincerely but then looks to jungkook. "unless you're ready for another round." he cocks an eyebrow.

you look at jungkook and a giggle slips out of your mouth when you see him shocked, his cheeks tomato red. yoongi chuckles too.

"i'm just teasing you," the older says. "i'll go prepare a bath." and he leaves the kitchen.

then you're alone with jungkook again. you grab your clothes from the floor even if you're not really gonna put them on now.

"what was all of that about?" you dare to ask and you know jungkook understands what you mean but you still push further. "yoongi and you...?"

"it was nothing." he quickly replies. you're not dumb, he's getting defensive.

"okay..." you mutter. "calm down, i wasn't judging."

"i know," jungkook says and oh he looks troubled. "it was just nothing."

"okay," you nod and give him a reassuring smile because he looks more tense now than before. "just... if you've got some thoughts you need to let out... i'm here, or whatever..." you try not to make things real serious but you just don't want to see jungkook like this.

"i'm okay." he replies.

"mh, good." you end up putting just your shorts on again because it might be a little weird to have this conversation while being half naked.

"by the way, that was short but it was amazing." jungkook says out of nowhere and you giggle, slapping his arm.

"yeah, you were not bad either." you say and squeeze his bicep twice before walking out of the kitchen.

and when you're left alone in the corridor everything you just did hits you like a truck.

what the hell have you done?

–

A/N: hope you enjoyed it !! i'm not 100% satisfied with this one, i know i could've done a lot better but yeah :) thank u for reading ! have a nice day <3

3K notes · View notes

ktownshizzle · 19 days ago

Text

Terms & Conditions | Chapter 5

Pairing: Min Yoongi x female reader

Summary: Managing Min Yoongi as one of your encoders during his alternative military service should’ve been simple. He is quiet, punctual—and can apparently type as fast as he can rap! Not to mention the fact that he is easy on the eyes and keeps wanting to help you. You’ve signed an iron-clad NDA, detailing the full terms and conditions of his temporary employment, so you’re supposed to keep things professional, but what happens if neither of you wants to?

Genre: Fluff, eventual smut, co-workers to lovers, office romance, idol!au

Warnings: Purely speculative regarding Yoongi’s alternative military service and how this is really done in SK, I might include scootergate in a future chapter but please know it will be written sensibly imo and with so much love for our Yoongi (I just wanna protecc him at all costs even thru this silly story!), some cursing, boss/employee relationship sorta but there's no power play involved, reader and Yoongi are within the same age range

Chapter warnings: so this is probably 60-70% smut or leading up to smut 😅, am I crazy?, maybe?, idk man T&C yoongi just has a bunch of tricks up his sleeve, i’m literally just a girl, tongue technology but it may not be what u expect, oral, protected sex, breast worship, nip stim, fingering, spanking, lil bit of exhibitionism, petting, office sex almost getting caught but they still finish yay, trampy Danbi and her weak-ass lines, overuse of jagi and baby because that's how I roll, if i missed anything lmk. MINORS DNI!

Word count: 7.3k (approx. 35 mins to read)

Posting date: November 2, 2024

Notes: Idk what else to say. Hope you think the wait is worth it. ☺️ Enjoy~

Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three | Chapter Four | Masterlist

You didn’t quite expect the night to end like this, but maybe part of you did. Spending intimate one-on-one time with Yoongi was a risk—one you knew would soften your heart even more. Despite every logical reason to pull back, to brace yourself for the shitstorm this would inevitably bring, you already made the choice. You were going to give this a try.

Yoongi offers you his hand, and you take it without hesitation. His grip is firm but gentle as he leads you from the cozy warmth of the living room to a quieter part of his apartment.

You don’t know what to expect when you see his bedroom. But when he opens it to usher you in, you’re hit with a strange sense of familiarity and intimacy. Like the space is so him. Minimalist but warm, with soft neutral tones that you find soothing. The bed, a king-sized obviously for the king of naps, a spread of taupe gray sheets and a matching duvet dominates the center. The dim lighting casts a golden glow over the earthy walls, but what caught your attention was the view from his huge floor to ceiling windows.

Somehow during the time it took from the living room to his bedroom, the Hangang Rainbow Bridge decided to impress you a bit more. Technicolor lights mingle with swirls of water that shoot from jets along the bridge’s edge, setting the night alight.

It’s… wow. You can’t explain the onslaught of emotions you’re feeling at the moment. You just know that there’s no place else you’d rather be.

Yoongi stands behind you, his hand still resting lightly on yours, like he’s giving you space to take it all in. But the silence doesn’t last long. You turn to face him, your hands find his chest, fingers looping the strings of his hoodie as you pull him closer.

He doesn’t resist but there’s a lazy smirk playing on his lips as he leans into you, his breath warm against your skin. His lips find yours again and all the worries and doubts you carried with you slip away. You’re in it now, fully, and there’s no going back.

Hands slide up your back, under your top and something inside you snaps. You’re impatient now, hands slipping under his sweater, tugging it upward. Your fingers graze the warm skin underneath, and he lets out a soft chuckle, amused by your urgency.

"Easy, jagi," Yoongi whispers against your lips, pulling back just enough to look at you, eyes glinting with amusement. "We’ve got all night."

The audacity of this man. Looks like a fuckin snacc, seduces you with his cooking and a slow dance, decides to call you jagi—then tells you to put on the brakes?

You roll your eyes, but your fingers don’t stop. "You’re moving too slow," you complain, pulling the fabric up higher, desperate to get it off him. He laughs again, but this time, it’s softer, more affectionate. He’s clearly endeared by your impatience.

With a low chuckle, he helps you lift the hoodie off, tossing it carelessly to the floor, leaving him in a simple black tee that fits nicely across his strong shoulders. But he’s not done yet. He steps closer, hands finding the zipper of your hoodie, eyes darkening with intent. He takes his time, his fingers gliding over the metal. You can feel your breath hitch as he slowly pulls the zipper down, teasing you, dragging this out just to make you squirm.

"Let’s not rush this," he chides, as the zipper falls open, exposing your skin to the cool air. "I wanna take my time with you."

“Okay,” you mutter, lids fluttering shut as his hands push the garment from your shoulders, falling in a heap where his own lies.

One strap from your top sags with the motion, his plush lips quickly taking its place. He trails soft, velvety kisses towards your collarbone, then licks the tops of your breast, blows on it, cool air tickling the trail of wetness. A sigh escapes your mouth at the mix of sensations.

“May I?” He asks, finger hooked on the other strap of your top.

“Yes,” you respond, engrossed at the way his eyes are drinking the slow reveal of your breasts as the fabric pools at your waist.

“So perfect,” he muses, moving to sit on the edge of his bed, pulling you to stand in between his legs.

The angle is perfect for his mouth to connect with your chest effortlessly and you’re rewarded by the mesmerizing view of his pouty lips as they push and pull against your puffy nipples.

A name you’ve never used for any lover ever seems to spill seamlessly from your lips, only for the man responsible for your current state of disarray. “Baby… you’re so good at that.”

Yoongi nips your tits playfully, approvingly, and you can’t help but moan at the sudden jolt of pleasure.

“Fuck—your tits,” he purrs, face pressed against your sternum while his hands push your mounds inwards to squish his cheeks. “They’re so soft, jagi. Mmm.”

Yoongi stays there for a while feeling the plush flesh against his face, and when you scratch his scalp with your long fingernails, he lets out a needy little whimper that almost sounds like a cat’s purr.

He moves to lavish your other breast, tongue darting out to coax it to peak. His eyes are transfixed on you and you can’t bring yourself to look away. He starts with kitten licks, before rolling it around your areola, and when it starts to pebble, his tongue moves faster and faster to flick at the tip and holy shit how is he so good at that?!

Lost in the feeling, you suddenly feel a tap on the side of your lips. It’s his fingers, the pointer and the middle, seeking entry. “Suck them for me,” he instructs and you do not have to be told twice.

You suck and lick around the digits and before you can even get into it he retrieves it and coats your free nipple with your own spit. The slick pinches of his fingers feel wonderful against your bud and with his mouth alternating sucks and rapid licks on the other, you start to feel a familiar yet wholly unfamiliar feeling igniting in your belly.

Yoongi’s so good and so, so fuckin’ sexy… And god his tongue. He really knows what he’s doing. You’ve never been with anyone who has made you crumble like this.

Soon enough you are panting and moaning haplessly. Your hands find purchase on the back of his neck, body tingling with a newfound sensation. When his teeth and blunt nails clamp down your nipples in unison, the stimulation becomes—fuck—too much to bear and

Wait—did you just???

Heat bursts inside your chest and your body surges forward as a sweet, subtle high, erupts within you in unexpected waves. The orgasm catches you off guard like a thief in the night. It feels like a gentle rumble, more like a preamble, and you’re already needy to feel the next.

Yoongi steadies you as your knees give way, easing you into the cushions until you’re lying beside him.

“Yoongi…” you’re suddenly as shy as a mouse.

“Mm?” he asks, amusement apparent, ‘cause of course he knows. He knows you came just from nipple play.

“I uh I’ve… never—” you stammer, crossing your arms across your chest, a little embarrassed from what they’ve just made you do. “…that’s never happened before.”

“Did it feel good?” Yoongi asks, cupping the side of your jaw to make you look at him.

“So good,” you sigh. You can’t even fault him if his ego inflates after this.

“Then stop pouting and give me back those lips,” he pulls you towards him with a smirk. You crash your lips on his, swinging one leg across his waist as you hoist yourself atop him without breaking your contact.

Your weight settles against his center and you can feel the semi under his jeans rumbling to life as you do some experimental rolls of your hips. His hands fly to your ass, squeezing them as you grind against his stiffness.

“Take this off,” you instruct, although your hands are already hoisting his tee up and off his body.

Once gone, you rake your greedy nails across his toned chest earning a tut from him as red marks immediately bloomed on the milky surface. You drag your tongue across the indents, capturing a nipple along the way, before ending on his neck and sucking softly. You enjoy the low rumbles in his throat for a bit before you push yourself out of bed, coming to stand by the edge where his legs dangle over.

Yoongi props himself up on his elbows, abs flexing to your quiet delight as he waits for your next move.

“Gonna give me a show?” he waggles his eyebrows suggestively.

You smile cheekily, pushing your blouse down and it falls on the ground by your ankles. Belt loops are pulled and released and the button of your jeans goes next.

Yoongi’s eyes devour you as you shimmy the jeans down leaving you in a thin scrap of lace that barely covers your pussy.

Alright, so you did prepare in the eventuality that this would happen.

Newly bought and newly washed, it was something you had picked up in a boutique yesterday with Chae. White (or coconut white, as the sales associate said), it has delicate scallop trims around the leg openings and a thin waistband that criss-crosses at the back connecting to the thong. It was out of your usual price range, but you let your credit card take the hit, thinking his reaction will be priceless.

You’re right.

A pink tongue swoops outside of his gaping mouth. He shakes his head at you as if you did him dirty, but you both know that’s a look of appreciation.

He shifts to sit fully, sweaty palms immediately sliding up your legs to cradle the meat of your ass as he continues to ogle at the sight in front of him.

“This is pretty.”

“I picked it for you,” you admit bashfully.

“I know you did, jagi,” he smirks. Sniffs. And there’s something wildly erotic in the way his nose nudges the lace where you know a patch of wetness has already formed.

He pokes the fabric in the middle, exactly where your clit is hiding and that brief contact sends sparks to your limbs. Fingers pinch the lace together, gathering it towards the slit of your pussy, then he does something that makes you gasp. He tugs the fabric up and down, the rough texture of the lace rocking against your puffed up clit, arousing you in a way you haven’t felt before.

“Shit,” you steady yourself against his shoulder, as you feel his mouth take one side of your pussy lips to suck. The friction feels phenomenal. More wetness gushes out of you and you decide to put a stop to things before it escalates again.

“Wanna see the back?” Needing reprieve, you turn around before he can answer.

You hear his sharp inhale. “Shit, your body is insane.”

Something akin to pride blossoms in your chest. You admit wondering how you might compare to other people who he’s been with. Probably gorgeous people sculpted by the gods just like him. But the way he looks at you—devastating, almost devoted—you’d be a fool to think he doesn’t view you as a descendant of Aphrodite, herself.

But then he bites the waistband and lets it ping against your skin, bringing you back to the present.

“Yoongi!” You gasp, pushing him towards the cushions and the bastard just giggles as he falls.

But the playful moment leaves after a beat, and soon enough, his pants disappear from his body, leaving him in black boxers, which you quickly get rid of as well.

Oh.

Okay.

You gulp.

He got that big dick energy and now you have the proof.

Your knees sink on the mattress, between his open thighs, the perfect spot for you to worship his cock. Heavy against his stomach, veins run up towards the head—red and swollen and angry. A bead of cum pools at the tiny slit at the very tip. Cute.

“Is this for me?”

“All for you.”

You hum, delighted. “All mine,” you say and you feel him throb against your hand as you reward him with a few pumps. After a while, you let your mouth take over, first cleaning up the salty precum on the tip with swipes of your tongue, noisily licking it for his audible enjoyment.

The sheets move beneath you as Yoongi grips them, face already a picture of impatience. “Don’t tease,” he says.

You suck him with gusto, letting your spit dribble down his hard length. You fist the base of his cock, timing your strokes with each bob of your head. The breathless moans coming from his lips only spurs you to keep at this smooth cadence.

A hand threads through the side of your hair before it is gathered in a loose grip. He doesn’t guide your movements, but anchors himself on you as if he’s at the edge of his life—he sure does sound like it. Groans and grunts huff out of his throat, sound bytes you need to mentally record for use when you're alone.

“Ahh, hol’ up…” he gently tugs your hair, cock falling from your lips and slapping against his tummy.

You look up at him, wiping your bottom lip with the back of your hand.

“I need to be inside you.”

“How do you want me, baby?”

“I need that perfect ass up in the air,” he replies, lips curling up, “Don’t remove your panties.”

You both shift around the bed, and you end up face down by his pillows. You can smell the comforting scent of his fabric conditioner and maybe his shampoo, rooting you in the present.

His hands grip your waist, tracing the contours of your body, sweat lubricating the path towards

“This ass…” he says, more to himself than you. You feel him lick one of your cheeks before he bites down, making you squeal.

“I’m sorry,” he says.

“For what?”

He rips your lace panties in half, the poor fabric sent sailing to the other side of the room. You somehow knew it was coming when he asked that it stays on.

“Kinda cliche,” you tease and he chuckles. “You left me with no choice.”

“Well, you could’ve not ripped it actually. Those are new,” you scold him with no real bite.

His chest connects with your back, and you feel a smooch or two being deposited to your shoulder blades. “I’ll replace it.”

He hitches your hips back so you can feel the ridge of his cock between your ass, hand reaching forward towards your mound. “Let me prep you real quick…”

“NO.”

“No?”

Your patience has worn thin. “I can’t wait anymore, just fuck me.”

You hear the crinkle of foil, the adjustment of rubber, then you feel it. The tip of his dick teases your folds, coating it with the juices seeping from your cunt. Gentle in the way he plants one of his hands on your waist, Yoongi reminds you, “Tell me to stop if it hurts.”

His cock finally breaches your entrance, your swollen walls accommodating his girth slowly but spectacularly. You love the burn inside. A loud moan launches itself from your throat as he bottoms out, the feeling full, stuffed, complete.

“Mmh, Yoongi, you’re so big…” you couldn’t help but clench at the delicious stretch.

“So tight, shit. W-wait, don’t do that—” Yoongi already sounds wrecked.

“Please move,” you beg, throwing your ass back once, and you hear Yoongi grunt, hands gripping your waist tighter.

He starts rocking his hips, pushing his length earnestly into you that you’re sure you will feel him if you press on your lower stomach. Your cunt is on fire, but your clit is aching for some relief.

Mind read, Yoongi tells you to touch yourself so you do, plunging your middle finger on your nub. The pleasure increases tenfold.

Yoongi groans as he continues to fuck himself into you. He doesn’t say anything else but his labored breaths are signifying his forthcoming demise.

He slips out of you and you almost scream at the loss.

Quickly you’re flipped to your back and you are hit with the sight of Yoongi’s crumbling composure, a lone drop of sweat trailing from his jaw to his chin.

He lines himself up on you again and this time the glide is smooth, your slippery cunt offering little to no resistance as he ruts against you, fast and fuckin’ furious.

“You’re fucking me so well, baby,” you praise in stuttered phrasing, and his forehead drops to rest on yours, the rhythm of this thrusts unchanging.

You frame his face with your hands and pull him towards you. You kiss him. Lick the back of his teeth. Tug at his bottom lip. And the neediest whine slips from his mouth onto yours.

“Are you close, jagi? Cause I fuckin am…” his voice is almost drowned by the sounds of skin slapping on skin, and the feral noises you’re involuntarily making.

“Y-yes…” you say as you play with one of your nipples, shuddering slightly from over sensitivity.

His pace increases even more with a sudden, breathless urgency. Every nerve in your body is buzzing to life, every part of you aware of how your bodies are connected. Maybe it’s the intensity in his eyes, or the way his tongue moistens his lips, but it’s enough to push you careening off the cliff, as your walls clamp down on his cock, body vibrating in a surge of electricity.

The way he pushes himself on to you is desperate. He looks so fucked out but he doesn’t stop fucking you. Not until the movement of his hips becomes erratic and he pulses inside of you with one prolonged moan, and the condom inside of you fills up with the proof of his pleasure.

You wish you started taking those damn birth control pills earlier.

“You good?” you ask, raking your nails against the clammy skin of his back. His head rests on the crook of your neck.

He lifts his head to level with yours, a lopsided grin on his lips. “Better. Bestest.” He looks positively drunk.

You shove a hand across his face, “you’re stupid.”

He shakes his head, rolling out of bed to dispose of the condom and to get a warm washcloth for you. He helps you clean up and you steal his tee from the floor, pulling it over your head before he can even protest.

“I can get you a fresh one,” he offers.

“I want this, smells like you,” you say.

His nose crinkles like he couldn’t stand your cheesiness, but of course he pulls you towards his body and under the duvet.

You share a brief kiss, but you’re too spent to do anything else, and soon enough, sleep claims you both.

The morning light filters softly through Yoongi’s curtains and you can see the dustmites floating in the air like glitter. You blink yourself awake, the memories of last night still wrapping around you like a comforting blanket. The actual blankets are tangled around your waist, and the faint sound of movement in the kitchen catches your attention.

You stretch, feeling the pull of muscles you didn’t realize would be sore. Everything about this moment feels surreal—like you’re hovering between reality and some alternate version of it.

Yoongi pads into the room, dressed in a loose white t-shirt and dark gray sweatpants. He looks cozy. When he sees you, his lips curve into a soft smile.

“Good morning, jagi.” His voice is a smooth melody, the last word warming you instantly. You really can get used to him calling you that.

You bite your lip, smiling back. “Morning.”

He crosses the room in a few steps and hands you a warm mug.

His cheeks are adorably puffy, and his eyes still look a bit more squinty than usual. All you want to do is reach out and squish that face.

“Didn’t think you’d be up this early,” you say, before taking a quick sip from your cup. “Thought you weren’t a morning person.”

“Had to make sure you didn’t disappear on me.” He sits on the edge of the bed, but his eyes stay locked on yours, watching you closely.

You pout. “Why would I leave?”

Yoongi shrugs, setting his mug down on the nightstand before turning back to you. “Just wanted to make sure you don’t regret last night.” The vulnerability hidden in his tone catches you off guard, his casual words heavy with meaning.

Your heart skips, but you cover it with a grin. “Regret? Not a chance. I mean, the bed was comfortable, and you didn’t snore, so…” You throw in a teasing smile, watching for his reaction.

Yoongi raises an eyebrow, clearly not buying it. There’s something behind his eyes, something uncertain. He’s usually so composed, always knowing where he stands. But right now, he seems like he’s choosing his next words carefully.

Before you can dwell on it, he leans forward, bracing his hands on either side of you. You are caught off-guard by the sudden proximity and you’re not ready for the tsunami of emotions roaring in your chest. He says your name, before carefully stating the next few words.

“I’m all in. You know that, right?”

The vulnerability in his voice is palpable, like he’s still waiting for you to pull away, to tell him this was a mistake. That this was a bad idea, like you said last night. The importance of his words hits you, your heartbeat quickening under his gaze.

All in. Wow. He really said that.

The way Yoongi’s looking at you right now, like he’s handing you his heart—fuck, it’s overwhelming. It’s exactly what you want, and you can’t explain the emotions that fill you up.

But you’re not about to let him off easy. You tilt your head, sipping your coffee slowly as you let the silence stretch just a little longer than necessary. “All in, huh? That’s a big commitment. You sure you can handle me?”

He lets out a soft chuckle, his breath warm against your cheek. “I think I can handle you. The real question is… can you handle me?”

You set the mug down, leaning back into the pillows, a small grin on your lips, but your next words are as honest as can be. “Yoongi, you’re a lot to handle. You’ve got way too many strings attached. Might be more than I can take on.”

You may have said it as a joke, but you know what they say about jokes being half-meant. He knows it, too. His hand finds yours, fingers lacing together effortlessly, like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

“We can take it slow,” he murmurs, “I’m gonna take care of you, you’ll see,” voice gentler now. “And if you’re in, I’m in—completely.”

You can see the sincerity in the way he looks at you, the way he’s offering more than just casual affection.

If you would be totally honest, you still had some doubts. There were too many variables that you both still need to discuss. But for now, there is only one appropriate response and you are willing to give it to him.

“Okay,” you finally whisper. “I’m in, too.”

The gummy smile that breaks across his face is blinding, and there’s something like relief in it that makes your heart flip. He leans down, pressing a soft kiss to your knuckles, and you can’t help but grin.

But the sweet gesture turns into something else as his hands slip under the hem of the shirt you’re wearing—his shirt—his touch slow, deliberate. His fingertips graze the bare skin of your waist, sending a ripple of heat through you.

You lean into him, coffee forgotten, tugging him down into a kiss that’s lazy like Sunday morning. He tastes like his Americano, and the way his lips move against yours makes your head spin.

Yoongi’s lips trail down your neck, pressing soft pecks to your skin. His hands slide up your back, pulling you closer.

You move back just slightly, a teasing smirk on your lips. “Aren’t we having breakfast first?”

His eyes darken with a lazy grin, the hand from your back now moving to grasp one of your tits. “That's exactly what I’m having right now.”

You’re utterly screwed.

Yoongi wastes no time diving in your cunt, especially since your underwear is MIA. Tongue flat, he licks your slit once, does it again, and earns a desperate whine from you. It doesn’t take long for him to start making out with your clit, gamely exploring this part of your body in a way he wasn’t able to do last night. He spreads you apart, tongue moving faster and faster like it’s his only setting.

“Just like that…” you say, already feeling embarrassingly close.

He pushes two fingers inside you, gets you plugged nice and tight for him. “You there, jagi?” He lifts his head slightly, to see your reaction.

You curse, gripping the short hair on his neck only to push him back towards his unfinished business.

You feel the smirk against your folds before he resumes his messy work against your pussy, wet muscle dancing in delicious figure eights.

“I–shit, I’m cumming…”

Your legs shake, your moans get louder, and your ears are filled with static as you come, hard, his fingers almost darting out of your hole from the strength of your release.

Yoongi hums and the vibration from his lips coaxes you down from your high.

“That was…” your words trail off as you stare at the white ceiling, lungs needing to be filled with oxygen.

Yoongi dutifully cleans his own mess between your thighs. With his tongue.

When he’s done, your world tilts back to normal (ish) and before you can offer to reciprocate, Yoongi is already slinking out the room, calling after you, “Come, jagi, I cooked haemul pajeon and, don’t bring your coffee, I’ll make you a fresh one.”

If this is how he vows to take care of you, damn, you’re one lucky bitch.

You’re back to work the next day. He insisted on picking you up from your apartment, though you tell him it was not necessary as it may raise some suspicion. You both keep things professional once clocked in but you cannot deny there’s a magnetic pull that is making it difficult to keep your paws away from each other. Once in a while Yoongi catches your eye and you’re brought back to your weekend of debauchery. When he nudges his head towards the door in the back of your office, you already know what he’s asking.

You don't say no. You say, 'later.'

The office has that late afternoon hush, when most people are too buried in their work to notice anything else. It’s just you and Yoongi, tucked away in the back office closet, a space that smells like old paper and dust. You’ve been here before of course—sorting files, you know, actual work—but today, when you enter, you only have one task: you and Yoongi are set to defile the file closet.

Yoongi stands so close you can feel his breath on your neck, his hands resting just above your hips, pressing you lightly against the Ikea file cabinet you both put together weeks ago.

“Alone at fuckin’ last,” he murmurs.

“C’mere baby,” you whisper, arms slipping around his neck. His gaze darkens, and for a moment, everything else fades.

He leans in, kissing you slow—so slow you think you might combust. You push your tongue against the seam of his lips, a little insistent, because you really can’t take your sweet time in this ancient closet.

Yoongi’s fingers start working the buttons of your blouse, one by one. The way his eyes trace your skin makes every hair on your body stand to attention.

But just as his hand slips inside, the door rattles.

You both freeze. Heart in your fuckin’ throat.

“Yoongi, you in here?” Hyun-woo’s voice pierces through the thick air. The panic kicks in fast, adrenaline flooding your veins.

Yoongi pulls back, completely nonplussed, adjusting his glasses on the bridge of his nose. How the fuck is he always so calm? He reaches out, smoothing your hair as if he’s done this a hundred times before. The tenderness in the gesture only makes your heart pound harder.

“Yeah, I’m here,” he calls out, voice steady, like he isn’t seconds away from getting caught with his hand halfway inside your blouse. “Just organizing files.”

Hyun-woo opens the door, peering in, eyes narrowing slightly.

You flash a too-bright smile. “Hi, Hyun-woo! Just teaching Yoongi with the filing. Total disaster in here.”

Hyun-woo doesn’t buy it, not completely, but the suspicion in his eyes fades as quickly as it appeared. “Right. Well, don’t take too long. That room always triggers my claustrophobia.” He pulls the neck of his shirt forward.

Yoongi replies, giving him that practiced, unbothered nod. “Just finishing up.”

As the main door to your office clicks shut, you let out a breath you’ve been holding for far too long.

“That was way too close,” you whisper, your pulse still racing.

Yoongi grins, closing the door again with a nudge of his foot. “Too close,” he agrees, voice low and teasing, as he leans in to steal a quick kiss. “But I’m not done yet.”

“Wha—” The question barely leaves your mouth before Yoongi’s hands are on your shoulders, turning you smoothly so that you’re facing the file cabinet.

“Remember when we were building this very cabinet?” His voice has dropped even lower now, sending a shiver down your spine.

You blink, thrown by the sudden shift. “Yeah?” Your hands are guided to grip the top corners of the cabinet, and your breath catches. What is he doing?

Yoongi doesn’t give you time to process. His voice slides closer, warm against the back of your neck. “What were you doing then?”

You frown slightly, the question catching you off guard. “Nothing…” you say, but it comes out uncertain, more like a question than an answer.

Without warning, his palm connects with your ass—firm, but playful. You gasp, more out of surprise than pain, and turn your head to find him wearing that lopsided grin that drives you crazy. “Ddaeng,” he chimes, the word rolling off his tongue with a playful edge. “Try again.”

“I was—I was helping you,” you say, though your voice is wavering.

“Ddaeng,” he says again, the second slap sharper this time. “You did jack shit. C’mon, jagi, use your pretty little brain…”

“Fuck,” you mutter, feeling your face flush. “I was… I was looking at your hands.”

Yoongi nods approvingly, his grin deepening. “And why were you doing that, hmm?”

You hesitate, your heart thumping harder, not from nerves, but from the way he’s pushing you. You know the answer.

“Because…” You swallow the admission heavy on your tongue, deciding to go the other way instead. “You were taking too long to build it.”

SLAP! “Ddaeng,” the third is much more deliciously painful now, your bum soothed by his large palms. “Huh, I think my jagi enjoys being spanked.” He licks the shell of your ear, making your knees buckle, and his voice comes through in a suspiciously calm tone, “Lie to me again and I’m going to step out this door and leave you here dripping. I bet you’re already wet.”

“Drier than the air in Daegu.” You jest, even as your lips tremble.

You squirm as he pins you against the cabinet, his hand making quick work of the top button of your linen pants. Things are happening so fast. His hand disappears inside, hooks your panties to the side and dips one finger shallowly at your entrance. God you wanna scream.

You squirm some more, but he’s got you pressed up, not enough to hurt you, but enough to limit your movements.

“Liar,” he chuckles darkly. In one quick motion his hand flies out of your pants and goes into his mouth, tasting you. You can literally smell the heady scent of your arousal filling the tiny space, making you needy for some relief.

“Yoongi,” you whine, trying to throw your ass back against his crotch. “Baby, please…”

“Why were you looking at my hands…” he jerks back, not giving you any relief, and asks again. “What do you want me to do with them?”

“I want you to put them inside me.”

“Hmm, what else…” he starts to unbutton your blouse again, not all the way, but so he can yank one of the cups of your bra to tease a nipple.

A flick from his moist finger and you’re already writhing in desperation.

“I want them stuffed in my mouth, and—shit—my pussy. I want them… choking me.”

“Naughty girl,” he tsks, pinching your nipple between his deft fingers, eliciting a moan from you. You feel his warm breath against your ear, teasing you. “Shhh…. I thought we were gonna keep things professional.”

Christ. He knows how sensitive your nipples are and he’s getting you so worked up again you might go criminally insane. You somehow manage to reply.

“I need you…” you whimper. “To fuck me with your fingers.” another whine. “Like a goddamn professional.”

“So bossy,” he chuckles, as his other hand dips under the waistband of your panties, past your fine hairs, and into your waiting folds. His middle finger immediately finds your clit and starts rubbing it in circles. “How’s this?”

You nod, and you gulp, and you stutter, “Good, s-so good.”

Because fuck, everything just feels so damn good. Bones softening, you are merely putty in his hands. Those sinful hands that are coated with your juices, moving in sync to bring you to your demise.

He envelops your ear with his mouth, hot breath further fanning the flames in your core. The way you can hear the sounds of his licks and soft grunts in fuckin’ Dolby atmos–oh my god.

Without any warning, he plunges two fingers in your entrance, your walls immediately sucking them in.

“You’re soaked, jagi,” he husks, large hands pushing your breasts together under your bra, to give you another sensation to enjoy.

His knee nudges yours to close the gap between your feet, and, when you do, everything in your pussy feels even more wonderfully snug. His thumb provides the perfect pressure against your clit, while his fingers move in and out of your cunt with noisy squelches that are bouncing off the walls of the tiny room.

“Am I completing the task to your liking?” he asks teasingly, even though he can feel every proof of his job well done with the way your body is vibrating against him.

“Shit, y-yeah,” you breathe out, turning your head to the side, so you can try to capture his lips. He lets you have it, twirling his tongue against yours.

Mouths still connected, he thrusts against your ass, and his fingers go in much, much deeper. Yoongi swallows your moans as you grip the edge of the cabinet, holding on to your life.

“M close,” you plead. “Don’t stop.”

He sets a staggering pace with his fingers inside your clenching walls, thumb repeatedly bumping your bundle of nerves.

His other hand creeps up your neck towards your chin and your mouth immediately chases it, taking his thumb inside your mouth like a goddamn fiend as the rest of his fingers cradle your jaw.

Salt on your tongue, sweat on your back, slick against your core, a cacophony of pleasure keeps building in record speed until you can’t take it anymore.

“Take it, jagi.” Yoongi says. “Take it like a good fuckin’ girl.”

Finally, the threads keeping your sanity intact finally snaps and a rush of euphoria overcomes you. Yoongi attaches his mouth on the sensitive part under your ear, sucking softly while you come undone against him. An arm circles your waist as he lets you ride the wave, murmuring praise against your skin.

“Remind me to keep wet wipes here,” Yoongi says jokingly as he helps you button up your blouse.

“I hate you.”

“No, you don’t.”

So much for keeping things professional.

Wait—it’s not like you’ve started fucking on the reg at work. Sure there was that time in the file closet (Monday), but that was it. You still pride yourself as a dutiful professional and want to ensure your blossoming relationship is not going to get in the way of your productivity.

But since that closet tryst, you haven’t really done much inside or outside the office. He hasn’t invited you again to his apartment and you haven’t asked him to come to yours. Granted it’s only been a few days, and you did say you were going to take it slow, but tbh, you were already feeling kinda needy.

The problem is, it’s early enough in your sex life that you still know your tally and it’s 4:1. That’s the ratio of orgasms–yours to his. You are lucky he is such a generous lover, but you need to tip the scale in his favor, and fast.

It’s thirsty Thursday. For you, at least. The moment he invites you to the breakroom for your usual shit afternoon coffee, your horny brain immediately concocts a little plan of action.

See that area behind the counter, that’s a CCTV blind spot. It’s quiet, it’s not secluded but the counter is high enough and if you open the bottom cabinet door, you get some extra shield.

“You know you’re asking for trouble, right?” he shakes his head at you, before running his hand through his hair.

You are already palming him against his trousers, biting your lip as you feel his erection grow with each pass.

“Trouble’s my specialty, remember?,” you reply, your tone light, playful.

“Mmh, jagi, fuck–” he slaps his palm on the countertop, bowing his head to watch your hand hasten its strokes. But just as you’re about to kneel, the door swings open. Fuck. You both pull back like teenagers caught sneaking out, your heart dropping into your stomach as Danbi walks in. Her eyes widen at the sight of the two of you—close, too close.

“Oh. I didn’t realize anyone was in here,” she says what is so obviously an outright lie. You can feel her gaze flick between you and Yoongi, curiosity practically radiating off her.

You walk towards the fridge on the other side of the room, forcing a neutral smile. “Just grabbing some snacks,” you say, even though your stomach’s in knots.

Danbi raises an eyebrow, but then her attention shifts fully to Yoongi. “I don’t think we’ve met,” she says, all sweet smiles as she extends a hand. “I’m Choi Danbi from Accounting.”

Yoongi takes her hand, but his expression doesn’t shift—polite, but distant. “Min Yoongi,” he says, his tone cool, relaxed, as if he is not sporting a semi from behind the counter.

And then, Danbi does the thing that makes you cringe to your core.

“So, Yoongi, do you believe in love at first sight, or should I walk by again?”

You fight the urge to roll your eyes so hard they’d never come back. Yoongi, though, doesn’t flinch. He releases her hand and his guarded expression unchanged.

“Not really,” he says flatly. “I’m more of a ‘get to know someone’ kind of guy.”

Danbi’s eyes brighten, completely missing the hint because she is a daft cow. “Well, then—why don’t we? You know, get to know each other. Could be fun.”

Oh, for fuck’s sake!

You grit your teeth, trying not to let your irritation show as you slam the fridge door, glass bottles inside saluting each other. But Yoongi doesn’t miss a beat, his expression still calm, still unreadable.

“I appreciate the offer,” he says smoothly, keeping his tone light, “but I’m not interested in doing that. Sorry.” His eyes flick to you for just a second—quick, but deliberate.

Danbi’s smile falters. Her eyes follow Yoongi’s glance to you, and something odd flickers across her face. She forces out a laugh, backing up toward the door. “Right. Well, can’t blame a girl for trying.”

Yoongi nods politely, but his attention is already drifting back to you.

The moment the door clicks shut behind her, you let out a frustrated sigh. “What the hell was that?”

Yoongi shrugs, clearly unfazed. “People shoot their shot. No big deal.”

“No big deal?” You raise your eyebrows, crossing your arms as you glare at him. “That was straight-up workplace harassment.”

He chuckles, amused by your frustration. “Are you jealous?”

“Jealous? No. Annoyed? Hell yes.”

He smirks, pulling you by the wrist back to your shared office. People walking down the hallway may see you, but at the moment you are a raging bull. You’re still fuming, muttering about Danbi’s persistence and her complete lack of subtlety, but Yoongi stays quiet, listening as you rant. By the time you step into the office, your nerves are on edge, and you can feel the heat of your frustration bubbling over.

But the second you’re both inside, Yoongi pulls you into his arms. No warning, no hesitation. His grip is firm, grounding, and despite yourself, your body softens against him.

“Jagiya,” he murmurs sweetly against your hair. “Relax.”

You try to stay annoyed, but Yoongi’s tone, his steady heartbeat under your cheek, makes it difficult. He leans back slightly, his hands slipping to your waist as he looks down at you, a soft smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “You know I’m all yours, right?”

You look up at him, biting back the last of your frustration. “I know. It’s just… she was so pushy.”

He nods, his thumbs brushing your sides in a calming rhythm. “She was. But it didn’t change anything.” His voice drops lower, more serious now. “It’s still you.”

You look into his eyes, seeing the sincerity there, the quiet confidence in his voice. You’ve known this for a while now, but hearing him say it—feeling him say it—it hits different.

Something shifts inside you. That underlying fear you’ve been holding onto, the doubt that maybe you’re just a phase for him, gone.

You’re all in.

Before you can say anything, Yoongi presses his lips to your forehead, his arms tightening around you, his touch both protective and possessive in the best way. “You good?”

You nod against his chest, smiling to yourself. “Yeah. I’m good.” And for the first time, you really believe it.

As you pull back to meet his gaze, a smirk tugs at your lips. “You know, you could’ve shut her down sooner.”

Yoongi grins, thumb tracing the edge of your jaw. “Thought you might like to watch me handle it.”

You laugh, swatting his arm. “Next time, I’ll just handle it myself.”

He chuckles, shoulders bobbing as he pulls you back into his arms. “Can’t wait to see that.”

You lean into his embrace, letting the last of your frustration fade. In this moment, it’s just you and him. Everything else? Background noise.

Because you’re in it. All the way.

Notes: Phew! So… how are we? Gosh, this was honestly a beast to write for me. Did you like the chapter? Hate it? I’d love your feedback. Let's have fun in the comments!!! :)

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chantiepie · 6 months ago

Text

💞ESPRESSO💞 Yoongi +18

Yoongi x Reader

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

Warnings: Unprotected sex, masturbation.

Words: 5k.

ko-fi ☕

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"What are you two up to?"

"Why would we be up to anything?"

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

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

Yoongi remained silent, just waiting for the next response.

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

"Why is his bag in my house?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Jimin had convinced you to make a move today.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Jimin would be punished for lying.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A scream was heard throughout the neighborhood.

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

#bts #yoongi #yoongi fanfic #jimin #jungkookfanfic #yoongi x reader #yoongi x y/n #yoongi au #bts au #jung hoseok #myg #bts suga #suga fanfic

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moni-logues · 12 days ago

Text

Reciprocity

Pairing: Yoongi x afab reader (Kintsugi couple) feat. A Fine Line Couple

Genre: established relationship

Word count: 5.8k

Summary: A couples' holiday with Suri and Namjoon highlights a particular problem between you and Yoongi.

Content: one reference to self-harm (cutting) but discussion of scars, oral sex (f. receiving), discussions of sex life stuff?, i guess some poor communication, overheard sex

A/N: yes, it's me once again with my favourite characters no apologies. i have been thinking about this since maybe even before i finished the series??? and i'm glad to have it finally out of my head. this is unedited and unbeta'd, written by me in the course of this one single day and well, here we are. This is set in the summer, somewhere a few months after the ending of the series.

* * *

“It’ll be fun!”

Yoongi just nodded and continued carefully folding clothes and packing them in a bag.

“You don’t want to come,” you continued, heart sinking a little.

“Of course I do.”

“Tell your face.”

He smiled then but didn’t want you to see it, turned around to fetch underwear from a drawer. When he turned back, his face was schooled into something a little more neutral, polite.

“I’m not saying it’s my first choice of holiday,” he explained, “but I want to go.”

“Good, because you’re coming whether you like it or not!”

You hopped off the bed, gave him a kiss on the cheek, and then moved into the kitchen to prepare snacks for the road. At the advice of your therapist, you were taking Yoongi at his word: if he said he wanted to come, you would believe him and it was not your responsibility if he was lying. Even though it felt like it was.

A week in the sun had been your initial suggestion. Somewhere where the heat wasn’t a curse, but a blessing. Clear blue skies and cool water. Peace. Unbridled joy where the real world couldn’t touch you. Even you weren’t entirely sure when it turned into a couples’ holiday, but it was an idea that neither Suri nor Yoongi would ever come up with, and you weren’t sure about Namjoon so it must have been yours. Sounded like the sort of thing you would say. Yoongi had said yes and let you do the research, find somewhere not too far away, easy to get to but far enough to feel new, to feel fresh.

He had been fairly tight-lipped about it since then. Got a little quiet when you brought it up, when you showed him tourism websites with activities laid out. He insisted he wanted to come but never quite managed to muster up the level of enthusiasm you’d hoped for. In a way, that was just Yoongi being Yoongi, but there was anxiety in you, too, and it was making you sensitive. You could see everyone hating the idea, hating the trip, having the worst time. The awkward silences, arguments about what to do or who should clean what. Namjoon had joked that he would have to force Suri to come and he had said it with a laugh but you knew it was true.

You turned your head and looked out of the car window at the increasingly green scenes around you and bit your lip. It felt incongruous somehow to not be happy and peaceful when the environment was so lush and bright with life. With ease. With a natural kind of solidity that had stood for hundreds or thousands of years and was still standing. You felt small and silly to be worried about this but it didn’t stop you worrying. Yoongi’s hand found yours and, like it always did, made a warmth start in your heart. You closed your eyes for a second of intense gratitude and then turned to him.

“It’ll be fun,” he said.

And it sounded like he meant it.

You and Yoongi arrived first, took the back bedroom overlooking the lake at Yoongi’s insistence because it was the better view. You had stopped on the way for groceries and you stocked the fridge, took out food to cook for dinner, since it would be about that time when Namjoon and Suri arrived.

The cabin was wooden and new, so new it still smelt literally pine-fresh. The sun was just starting to dip, dripping golden light over everything, spreading a thousand tiny diamonds on the surface of the lake. It couldn’t have been more picturesque. It made you want to send a postcard for the first time since you were a child. You settled for texting photos to Taehyung who told you to stop messaging him. Your ripples of anxiety were peaking, anticipating Namjoon and Suri’s arrival and what sort of dynamic it would bring, how it might disturb the peace of this place.

Yoongi tore you from the window and asked you to start peeling vegetables. You were glad of the task.

“-t I don’t want to be here, it’s just going to be weird.”

Suri’s voice came from the hallway and you froze. So did Yoongi.

“I don’t know why you keep saying that-” Namjoon - “it’s not as if we’ve never spent time with them. You like them.”

Suri’s hum in response sounded unconvinced.

You heard the kicking off of shoes, could follow their footsteps into the living room, around the corner from the kitchen where the two of you were hidden. Yoongi put down his knife and moved to go, intercept them before they said something you didn’t want to hear, but you put a hand out to stop him. Your stomach was sick but you had to hear it. Whatever it might be.

“She’s jus-”

And they rounded the corner into the kitchen, stopped in their tracks when they saw you.

“Hey!” Namjoon was the first to recover. “We didn’t know you guys had arrived already! Where have you parked?”

“’Round the back,” Yoongi answered.

He was looking at Suri and you were looking anywhere but. Face burning with shame—that this was your idea, that it was all your fault, that you should’ve made you presence known earlier, that no one except you wanted to do this—you swallowed and smiled as brightly as you could.

“You made it!”

Your cheer sounded forced to you; maybe Namjoon and Suri wouldn’t hear it. Maybe they would believe you.

“Public transport is a fucking nightmare,” Suri said with feeling.

“I told you we could’ve rented a car,” Namjoon replied as if they had had this argument already.

“I’m not driving in these hills! You should do it. Right?”

You flinched when she turned to you and realised you had to answer.

“Uh-”

“Yoongi drove, right? Literally what are men good for if not chauffeuring you around?”

It was a lifeline for her, really, but you took it readily, gladly, anything to drive over the awkwardness and shame you were feeling.

“She has a point, Joon,” you said, grinning at him. “You could at least get a licence.”

Namjoon rolled his eyes indulgently, let you and Suri rib him a little more, smoothing things over at his own expense. You were deeply grateful.

“Come and help us do dinner,” you said, ferreting out more chopping boards from the cupboard, handing over knives and ingredients.

It would be fine, you told yourself as you diligently and with great focus, chopped an onion. It would be fine. It would not be weird. It would be fine. It would be fine.

It was fine. Dinner was cooked and eaten and cleaned up after. Drinks were taken on to the back porch, overlooking the lake, the heat lingering long into the darkness. It was not dissimilar to the other dinners you had had as a foursome. As long as you could forget what Suri might have been about to say, you were sure you could have a good time.

You woke the next morning, sun streaming sharply through a gap in the curtains. You rolled over, tucked yourself into Yoongi’s side even though you were already hot and sticky. You were willing yourself to fall back to sleep, even if just for a few minutes, and then you were sitting, eyes wide, ears trained.

There was no mistaking the sound of other people having sex. You grimaced, settled back down in bed and pulled the covers over your head.

“What?” Yoongi mumbled, not so much a word as a sound.

“Can’t you hear them?” you asked in a stage whisper.

Another grunt from Yoongi. Then you felt his body tense, followed by a sigh and a sleepy chuckle.

“You’re the one who wanted to come on holiday with another couple.”

You whined, prodded him sharply in the chest.

“Not because I was anticipating this! Do they have to be so loud?”

“This place is not exactly well sound-proofed.”

“I so don’t want to hear this.”

“Go back to sleep,” Yoongi said and he sounded like he was already halfway there himself.

“I don’t know how you can sleep now that you can hear that.”

Merely a hum in response.

You lay for a few minutes, desperately trying not to hear the only noise in the house, and then you gave up. Threw back the covers and went into the bathroom to shower. The rush of the shower might not exactly cover it but it would give you something to do.

“Hey,” Yoongi greeted the other couple when they came out to join the two of you on the back porch, where you were sitting with coffee and fruit. “Just a quick request: could you please have louder sex? I’ve been getting a little too much sleep recently.”

You and Suri both froze and you saw the blood swarm in her cheeks, red and hot. Namjoon just laughed.

“I’ll see what we can do.”

Suri swatted him harshly on the arm and he barely noticed, slung said arm around her shoulders and pulled her close, kissed her on the top of her head. If he felt embarrassed or awkward about it, it wasn’t showing. What was it like to be so self-assured, confident, relaxed about everything? Even with Suri’s face still pink, her mouth pulled into a scowl, furiously glowering at her boyfriend, he looked easy, his smile gentle and eyes bright. You envied him. You still felt silly and embarrassed about the previous evening, and embarrassed about hearing them have sex; he didn’t seem embarrassed at all to be heard.

Yoongi had insisted on washing up after breakfast. Didn’t let anyone else so much as carry a bowl back to the kitchen. He was taking his time on it, deliberately, carefully, putting off what he knew could not be avoided.

He was rarely unaware of his own body. Vigilant at all times about its exposure. He had suffered years of summers under long sleeves and trousers, would suffer higher temperatures, more humidity if he had to. He regretted everything he had done to himself, but not in a way that prevented him doing it again. No amount of shame or embarrassment would stop him, it seemed. Not that it happened much these days, but the possibility was always there.

Even when he was with you, he couldn’t let go. Even though you were sweet and kind and loving. Even though he knew there was a part of you that understood. Even though he could kiss your thighs where you had cut them and love you so much that it hurt, love your skin, love your scars (hate that you had them). Even though you kissed him, all over, generous and unsparing, even though you said you loved him, all the parts, every bit of him. He knew what he was and he found that breaking the habit of hiding himself was harder than the hiding had been in the first place.

With his task finished, and all the others he had made up for himself (cleaning counters, fluffing cushions, clearing the dryer of lint even though they hadn’t used it), he had come to the point he could no longer avoid. He moved slowly up the stairs, towards the bedroom you and he were sharing; he stopped halfway up. He could see you through the door, left ajar.

Your bikini was floral, cutesy, every bit you. The smile formed on his mouth before he had registered the sight. Then it was wiped away because he saw your face: your worried eyebrows, lip caught between your teeth. Your fingers ran over the scars on your thighs; your face turned towards the window, from which point Yoongi knew you could see Namjoon and Suri, already out, lounging. He could see cogs turning in your head, first this way then that.

And then it wasn’t just the scars. You fussed with the top, fussed with the bottom, turned in the mirror to check yourself from the side, twisted your head around to catch yourself from the back. You ran a hand over your face. You picked up a slip of fabric—some kind of cover-up, a dress?—and held it up against yourself.

He knew he shouldn’t be spying like this. He wanted to leap the remaining stairs and take you into bed where he would show you exactly what he thought of your body: your perfect, desirable, soft, body that he loved and loved to love. He wanted, briefly, to throw Suri in the lake and hope there were eels because he knew you were still thinking about it: last night.

He knew that it didn’t matter much what he did because it wasn’t that easy. It wasn’t as easy as being told you were fine. He knew because you told him all the time but he still felt like there was something wrong with him.

He carried on up the stairs and knocked on the door as he entered. Your face was immediately bright, free from clouds, as clear as the sky outside.

“Coming outside?” you asked as he moved in closer, couldn’t stop himself kissing you just once, putting all his love into it, however brief, however small.

“Yeah, just coming. You go ahead.”

You nodded and skipped out and there was a deep tug in his chest. There was a pit of snakes in his stomach but, fuck it, he’d been bitten before. Everyone out there beside the lake knew him, knew what he was if not in full, lurid detail. He took a deep breath and fished around in the bottom of his bag for the pair of swimming shorts he had bought in a moment of madness and packed because he wanted to make the effort for you. He hadn’t expected to wear them—they were still fully tagged and pristine, ready for refunding—but here he was.

He hadn’t anticipated the difficulty. He sat for ten minutes at the dining table in the kitchen, willing himself to get up and go outside. His legs weren’t all that bad, not the lower half. No one would care. You’d seen them before anyway. It wasn’t a big deal. He was telling himself all the right things but he couldn’t make himself move because he was thinking about all the people who’d seen him in his grossest state. Thought of the things some of them had said. Thought about their reactions. Thought about yours. Tried to focus on that. Reminded himself that it was you out there and his best friend. Suri was still a question mark but he also thought that she could go fuck herself if she had a problem with it because he was still prepared to fight her for potentially upsetting you.

“I don’t know. I’ll go and see where he is.”

Your voice floated over to him and that was it, the alarm call, the deadline reached. He stood from the chair and made himself move with he didn’t know what power.

“Hey!” you cried, arms outstretched to welcome him as he approached the group. “I was just coming to look for you—thought you might have got lost.”

He smiled, let you kiss him on the cheek, direct him into a sun lounger, sit down with him on it, not quite in his lap but almost.

Suri raised a hand in way of a greeting; she was flat on her back, sunglasses on, straps of her bikini tucked away, her tiny body sizzling in the sun. Namjoon sat next to her, under the shade of a parasol, dug out of the cabin’s garage, book in hand. He nodded at Yoongi and kept reading.

“I’m going to go in the lake,” you said, one hand resting on his calf. “Do you want to come?”

He was putting all his energy into not looking where you were touching him, not noticing, pretending that this wasn’t the first time for he couldn’t remember how many years that he’d not been fully covered in front of people. He wasn’t sure what his face said, if his mouth said anything at all, but you were standing and holding out your hands for him so he must have said yes, let you lead him to the edge of the water and then jump in.

The water was colder than he’d expected. He gasped and swallowed a lungful, came up spluttering. He wiped the water from his face and pushed his hair back. He blinked the water from his eyes and each frame brought you closer, until your arms were around his neck and your lips on his.

“I love you, you know that?”

He nodded.

“I love you, too.”

“I know.”

Did you? Did you really know the full depth and breadth of it? The way he loved you was desperate and whole. He had loved desperately before, loved anxiously, a long time ago when he still thought it was possible he could be loved. There were times when it terrified him. You terrified him because you loved him and it was impossible. Panic seized him and he wanted to run, run anywhere, get as far away as possible until you and your enormous heart were nowhere to be seen. Then you would call him or you would touch him and the panic disappeared, a low-grade anxiety in its place.

He hadn’t realised he had given up on it. Before you let him kiss you, before you kissed him back and said things he never believed he would hear, he had retired the idea of being loved. It wasn’t for everyone and it wasn’t for him. He took what he could get and accepted that his lot in life was nothing more. But he met you and it hit him square in the face: that he’d stopped expecting joy. That he was fine because he never expected what he deeply and desperately wanted: to be loved.

And that’s why you were terrifying. Because he was getting used to you. Getting used to being wanted. Getting used to the idea that he could be wanted. Sometimes he thought he was expecting it. Expecting you to let him in your arms, in your life. He had to remind himself that he wasn’t owed anything, didn’t deserve anything. It was the other way around: he was in debt for everything he had been given by you, for being given you at all.

They say if you can’t beat them, join them. It was an expression Yoongi was apparently taking very seriously, as he slid his tongue down your torso, fingers already slipping through your lips, sinking deep into your soft, wet hole.

You were less keen to join Namjoon and Suri in being overheard so you pressed a pillow to your face and moaned into it, still louder than you’d wanted to be. You bit down hard on your lip as your back arched from the bed. Every time, it was an aria performed like a concerto, Yoongi doing the work of a full orchestra suite at once. It was lethal and moving the ease with which he played you and it was somehow never the same twice. Never had anyone spent as much time with his face between your legs and it showed: he had learnt, with apparent ease, seemingly everything about what got you off: had learnt how to do it in a rush, how to take his time, how to make you squirt (a surprise more to you than him), how to edge you until you wanted to die, how to make you come and somehow keep coming. He had, on one unfortunately memorable occasion, given you a charley horse and a third orgasm simultaneously.

You were approaching your second now, with sweat seeping into the bedsheets, and Yoongi’s tongue laving at your clit, his fingers rocking inside you. It was suffocating with the pillow smothering you, your hot breath making it damp, your breathing thick and swampy so it made you light-headed. You couldn’t have kept any quieter even if you’d be able to try; all your attention and energy fell on the mouth at the apex of your legs and the fingers inside you. An experience so in-body, it almost pushed you all the way out again, like your consciousness was hovering outside your skin, alert and alive, an electrical wire in a puddle of water.

You came hard and gasped for breath when you pulled the pillow from your face. Yoongi kissed his way back up to you, sticky marks all over your sweat-wet skin. He was damp, too, tiny curls of hair stuck to his forehead, the T-shirt he slept in stuck to his back. You peeled it back, ran your hands over him, were reaching for the waistband of his boxers when he pulled away.

“I’ll wash up and then make breakfast, sound good?” he asked, climbing out of bed and reaching for trousers.

The words died in your mouth. You could see that he was hard, see the discomfort in the way he adjusted himself as he dressed; you wished you could see into his brain. It wasn’t the first time, not even the second or third and you didn’t want to have the same conversation again, with another couple in the house, with company. Knew it wouldn’t get you anywhere if you did. Knew he would not fuck you nor would he give you a real reason why not. You rolled onto your side, away from the door and pulled the covers around you, despite the heat, despite the sweat. You lay and you stewed and you wondered just what exactly you were doing wrong.

You tried to forget about it and it had been easy until you glanced over to see Namjoon swat Suri’s backside with his book, saw her retaliate by squirting water on him from her bottle, saw him pull her down in a tumble that was entirely playful until she kissed him. You turned away because you’d already heard enough, you didn’t need to see their foreplay.

“Did you guys buy ice-cream?” Suri asked later that evening.

“No,” you answered. “Do you want some?”

Suri nodded.

“Yeah, there’s a shop down the road; I’ll go and get some. Anyone else want any?”

“I’ll come, too!”

Suri looked surprised, her mouth open (to put you off), then she shut it and shrugged.

“Ok.”

It was quiet, initially, just the soft rush of wind in the tops of the trees and the slight crunch of the gravel track under your feet.

“Can I ask you something?”

The rhythm of Suri’s feet faltered and then started smoothly again. Her answer was slow to arrive.

“Yeah, I guess.”

Embarrassment was worming through you, on its way to stifle you, to choke you so the words wouldn’t come out.

“You and Namjoon have good sex, right?”

Suri didn’t just falter but stopped completely. She looked at you guardedly, suspicious. You could feel her attempting to put distance between you, even as her feet kept still.

“Is that... ar-, we’re trying to be quiet,” she answered eventually.

You laughed not because it was funny but because you were nervous.

“No, it’s not about that. It's... I mean, you do, right?”

“Yes.”

You were stuttering over your next question, not having planned this conversation, not really knowing what you wanted out of it.

“Don’t you and Yoongi?” Suri asked, beating you to it.

“We do. Kind of. Yes, but also...”

Your face was flaming, hot pricks of sweat beading in your scalp at the embarrassment of this, at having to ask someone about your sex life—someone that wasn’t Taehyung anyway—someone who definitely did not want to be having this conversation either.

“The thing is,” you persevered, “he goes down on me, like a lot. Or not a lot but sometimes, well, often, he...”

Your fists clenched and unclenched at your sides.

“He goes down on me and then we don’t have sex and I don’t know what I’m doing wrong or why he doesn’t want to fuck me.”

You let it out in a rush, looking somewhere over Suri’s left shoulder because you couldn’t bear to look at her directly, to see her face reacting. She was quiet for a moment or two and you stewed, boiling in your self-consciousness, steaming with shame.

“Have you asked him?”

“Yes, of course! He just says he doesn’t want to or ‘it’s ok’ or that I don’t have to reciprocate or that he’s fine. But I'm not fine! I’m clearly shit at sex! And blowjobs because he doesn’t want those either!”

And it was the embarrassment, mostly, but you felt tears burn in your eyes, felt your bottom lip wobble and as much as you did not want to have this conversation, you certainly didn’t want to cry during it.

“Does Namjoon ever...” and you couldn’t finish the question because you knew the answer and didn’t want to hear it.

“Nah, if he’s even the slightest bit turned on, he’s doing something about it. Well, I'm doing something about it, you know what I mean.”

You cursed softly, tried to kick at the gravel in your flipflops.

“I just wish he would tell me what I’m doing wrong so I can fix it.”

Your embarrassment, bright enough to have burnt away now, had left you sad, miserable in fact, that you couldn’t please your boyfriend and he was being too nice to tell you so. Sad because you couldn’t give him what you wanted to, what he gave you. Miserable that you were failing where you wanted to succeed.

“Do you ask him directly at the time?”

“Huh?”

“I mean, look, I’m the last person who should be giving anyone relationship advice of any kind, ok? I really don’t know how to do anything but are you asking him why he doesn’t want to have sex right now, or have you talked about it at a completely unsexy time? Because Namjoon is barely sapient when his dick is hard; his brain is entirely in his crotch.

“Literally the only thing I have learnt over the last year is that, as horrible as it is, you have to talk about stuff, especially when you don’t want to talk about it. So maybe just talk to him again but- oh, I don’t know! I’m not good at this. But if he’s not given you a proper answer, make him give you one. You should at least know what the problem is, if there even is one, right?”

You thought about it. Thought about how quickly you let the subject drop, let Yoongi brush you off because you didn’t really want to have the conversation at all, didn’t want to know the answer—or rather you didn’t want to hear Yoongi say it.

You nodded, thanked her quietly for her help and you walked the rest of the way to the shop in silence. You picked an ice-cream at random and a random one for Yoongi, too, then you walked back. Suri tried to make conversation with you and you were grateful for it, for her. You didn’t know if she liked you, found her impossible to read, and often got the impression that she’d rather be anywhere else, but she was making an effort and it meant something to you.

“Can I ask you something?” you started timidly as you settled in bed that night.

“Yeah.”

You were quiet for a moment and Yoongi frowned, trying to work out what had upset you. You had been quieter than usual all evening and he wondered if Suri had said something to you; you had come back from the shop with two melona ice-creams, which you hated.

“Am I bad in bed?”

He blanched. Didn’t really understand the question because you weren't. Not in the slightest. The sex he had with you was as close to perfect as sex could be. He sometimes felt deranged in how much he wanted you, felt dirty for it even, like it somehow besmirched your honour for him to think about you when he touched himself. Like he would contaminate you with his need to have you. It often took all he had in him not to fuck you.

“What do you mean?”

Your mouth was pouty and your eyebrows drawn close. You didn’t look angry for which he was grateful, but you were sad and frustrated for which he was not.

“You go down on me all the time and then we don’t have sex after! You don’t let me reciprocate! I can’t do it better if you don’t tell me what I’m doing wrong in the first place!”

It was like static was fuzzing up his brain. He knew the words but couldn’t understand them coming out of your mouth. He had thought he was doing the right thing. Giving not taking. Or taking only sometimes, but keeping the balance firmly tipped towards you. You always offered because of course you did: you were wonderful and kind and, for reasons he could rarely fathom, you cared about him.

“Yoongi!”

In a tone he almost never heard, genuinely annoyed, if also pleading and anxious.

He blinked, tried to find an answer.

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“Of course you do! It happened this morning! It happens at least half the time! I don’t understand why you don’t want it.”

And his heart was suddenly hammering because he could see that he had got it wrong but he wasn’t quite sure how. Colour drained from his face because you were upset, really, genuinely upset and it was his fault and if he could have squashed himself like a bug under his own shoe, he would have.

He tried to see what he had not seen, what he had missed, what maybe he had ignored. Could only see instead the times before, with other partners, when he’d try to initiate and be rebuffed, when he never asked for anything because he knew he wouldn’t get it anyway and, besides, it was ugly to ask, to want, to demand for something someone else didn’t want to give. He had spent so much time and effort learning his partners’ bodies, trying to make up for everything he lacked. He knew he was good at it. Knew it, was sure of it. Wasn’t he? Was it not enough? Was he still missing something?

“I do,” he said, voice hushed as though it hurt to say. “I do want it.”

“Then why do you always brush me off?”

He felt stripped like old paint. Had to look at you, though the embarrassment was excruciating.

“I didn’t think you really wanted it.”

And it sounded stupid when he said it out loud, really stupid, but it was the truth.

“What?!”

You really needed to hear him say it again. That he didn’t think you wanted it, even though you had explicitly asked. Even though you had sometimes tried, feebly, to insist.

“I...”

But he didn’t say it again, looked as though he couldn’t. Looked as desperate as you felt.

“Why do you think I would ask, I would offer, if I didn’t want to actually do it?”

“Because you give. You’re... You’re nice to me.”

“Oh, fuck.”

And you took a deep breath, tried to blink away the tears, sent them rolling down your cheeks instead.

“Yoongi, what the fuck?”

You saw him move, inch away just slightly, and you remembered who you were dealing with. Because he was Yoongi, your Yoongi, and he was warm and soft and sweet and funny and smart and you loved him so much that you forgot sometimes he still hated himself. Saw his denial now not of you but of his own desires. Remembered how long he had spent silently loving you without asking you to so much as hear a confession. Remembered how close you had both come to absolutely nothing at all, his disbelief overpowering his belief and his heart and his hope.

You could see it from his side. See what he was trying to do, even if it was madness. Even if it was wrong. You could feel him retreat even now, tucking himself back inside his tortoise shell.

“I’m so-”

You didn’t let him finish, would not let him apologise. You kissed him, tasted the salt of your own tears between you, leant into him, let your arms wrap around him and pressed your lips to his, to his cheek, to his hairline, to his jaw.

“Yoongi, I love you.”

“I know,” he replied, but you weren’t sure if he really did.

“I’m glad you think I'm such a nice person and everything, but I promise, I’m not offering out of the goodness of my heart. I’m asking because I actually want to. Like, really want to. Like, really enjoy myself and want you to enjoy yourself and want us to both enjoy ourselves together, y’know?”

He nodded, couldn’t quite hold your gaze.

“I’m serious. You need to know that I want to fuck you, ok?”

And you laughed, though you were trying not to, even if it did feel a little ridiculous, having to convince your boyfriend that you wanted to have sex.

He nodded again.

“You promise I’m not a bad lay?”

And you watched his face flick through shock and outrage and a kind of disbelief that become laughter.

“You are not a bad lay, I promise.”

“And what about blowjobs?”

“Also good.”

“You promise?”

And you sat yourself in his lap, legs straddling his hips, sinking yourself low, pressing against him.

“I promise.”

“What if I say you have to prove it?”

His head cocked to the side, playful, squinting at you, and you didn’t think that it was over, that he was suddenly convinced now, but with the burden of Being Terrible at Sex lifted off you, you felt not only lighter, but the deep, heavy, familiar drag of desire raise its head.

“Prove it?”

You shifted your hips again, deniably but definitely, and put your lips to his ear.

“Prove that you like it when I suck your cock.”

His hands gripped you tightly; you felt the bob in his throat when he swallowed as you pressed kisses down his neck and a stirring in his boxers that you sank even lower to press yourself against.

“I’ll prove it if you prove that you like it when I fuck you.”

“Deal.”

You were late up that next morning and Namjoon greeted you both from the back porch.

“Hey, a little request: could you maybe be louder when you fuck? Suri and I are actually sleeping a little too well.”

#yoongi fanfic #yoongi x reader #bts x reader #suga x reader #suga fanfic #bts fanfic #yoongi smut #bts smut #suga smut #bts fanfiction #kintsugi fic

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back2bluesidex · 1 year ago

Text

Girl Crush - MYG

Part of my Milestone Drabble Request Game. Find the request here.

Read the follow-up drabble, Afterglow.

Pairing: Husband!Yoongi X Wife!Reader

Theme: Angst, Unrequited love au, arrange marriage au

Wordcount: 1.5k+

Summary: It was and is Min Yoongi, who you fell in love with over the course of charity galas, executive meetings, quarterly gatherings, parties and so on. And he never once looked in your direction. But then again, there are very few people Yoongi really looked at.

Based on Girl Crush by Harry Styles (Cover).

Warnings: unhappy marriage, unrequited love, yoongi loves someone else. this is very painful.

Minors are not allowed in this blog!!

A/N: I had this idea sitting on my head for a long time now. Thanks to @jimintaemin for requesting this and giving me a chance of writing this. This is very angsty just as you wanted. Hope you like this. Hit me back with your feedback!:)

“I've got a girl crush… Hate to admit it but I’ve got a heart rush… It ain’t slowin' down”

“I assume you already know that this is a marriage of convenience, a negotiation between two companies. And I hope you will not expect anything from me. As long as it’s about responsibilities, I am okay with those. But don’t expect anything more.” Min Yoongi had said, cold and stoic, as if not conversing but stating some flat facts related to stock prices.

He was not wrong. Whatever he had said are indeed facts and there was nothing you didn’t already know.

So you stood there, standing as still as a porcelain doll, ready to fall and break at any given moment.

“And just so you know… I have someone.” he finished, diverting his eyes from you even though he never really looked at you properly.

Although you were glad that he didn’t. You were more than happy that he didn’t witness tears rolling down your face, gathering below your chin and dropping down at the immaculate fabric of your wedding gown.

Do tears leave stains? You hoped that was not the case.

It’s not that you pictured a fairytale married life for you. You know arranged marriages come with more cons than pros. You knew you would have to pay the price.. but at the same time you had no choice. You were even more reluctant to do anything because it was him.

It was and is Min Yoongi, who you fell in love with over the course of charity galas, executive meetings, quarterly gatherings, parties and so on. And he never once looked in your direction. But then again, there are very few people Yoongi really looked at.

It was foolish for you to expect a man of his stature would not have someone to love, to be loved by. And it was even more foolish for you to think, you can be his wife, a real one.. and lead a life with him.

However, now you know it’s impossible. And the realization made you feel helpless, caged and broken.

“I won’t expect anything, I promise, but in return… Can we at least be friends? It will make things easy for both of us.” you’d uttered upon managing your voice and emotions.

Only then he looked at you, like really looking at you with a small smile playing on his lips, he’d said “sure.”

That was the moment you realized you had a girl crush. And it was the woman who managed to make Yoongi, your husband, fall in love.

“I got it real bad.. Want everything she has That smile and that midnight laugh.. She's giving you now.”

You thought, you would be angry. You thought every possible darkness would cover your senses, when you’d meet her for the first time.

But wrong… you were.

You had so many prejudices about this woman and you hated her with every drop of blood your body owns but all of it evaporated in thin air when she smiled at you standing right at your and yoongi’s door.

She is beautiful, she is kind, she is loveable… and maybe everything else you can’t ever be.

“Thank you so much, Y/N. I never thought I was going to see Yoongi ever again.” she’d murmured as she stood close to you in the kitchen, preparing dinner for you three.

You had stared into her eyes then.. Trying to find mockery and a hint of brazen victory telling you, “you’re only his paper wife. I own his heart.”

But again.. Again you were disappointed.

In her eyes, there was no mockery, no pretense, no dishonesty.. Rather only understanding and kindness. Only then you understood why Yoongi loves her so much.

Why will it never be you and always be her.

That night as you stood at the balcony, enjoying the stinging sensation cold wind brought to you, you heard them laughing.

It was the first time you heard Min Yoongi laughing. Even though faint and muffled, you could still sense his happiness through the sound.

Min Yoongi was finally happy... for the first time since the wedding ceremony... and you were not the reason.

All of a sudden, you were jealous again, even though you were not sure if you had the right or not.

“I want to taste her lips… Yeah, 'cause they taste like you I want to drown myself… In a bottle of her perfume”

You didn’t know what you were thinking when you invited her to your and Yoongi’s honeymoon.

Both of your and his parents have been pestering you to set out for the trip. You have been using excessive workload as the excuse and you assumed Yoongi to do the same.

But a week ago, everything went south when Yoongi had a fight with his father. As a result, flights were booked, accommodations were chosen and you two were notified only two days prior.

That night, Yoongi didn’t come back home. And when he did, he didn’t speak a single word to you.

The visible frown on his forehead and the cold aura that oozed from him, made you want to make him smile, made you invite his lover to the trip secretly.

She was already there when you two reached and you will never forget Yoongi’s reaction when he realized what was happening.

The grumpy cold Yoongi broke into gummy smiles and giggles as soon as he saw her. They kissed right in front of your eyes and you silently cried.

Oh how you wish, you could taste him too. How you wish, he would hold you like that, caress you like that.

How you wish… he would love you like that.

“I want her long blond hair… I want her magic touch Yeah, 'cause maybe then… You'd want me just as much”

“Babe, could you please turn your head a little? Yes.. yes just like that.”

You watched the man as he clicked photos after photos of the woman he loves, seemingly trying to document her beauty for a long long time.

You watched her as her long blond hair flowed like a waterfall down her shoulder, wind ruffling it gently making her look even more beautiful.

“Let’s take a selfie, will you?” she shouted at him and he chuckled.

He buried his head in the crook of her neck, inhaling her scent, he said, “you smell so nice.”

You wondered, what she smelled like, what perfume did she use to make Yoongi look this satisfied. You even considered asking her, purchasing a bottle and drowning yourself in one of those if that means Yoongi would love to smell you too, he would curl himself around you late at night. If that means Yoongi would want you, just as much.

“I don't get no sleep… I don't get no peace Thinking about her.. Under your bed sheets”

“Where are you going?” confusion dripped through Yoongi’s voice. You stopped at your tracks and turned to face him.

“I will sleep in the other room. You two should have your space. I will send her in as soon as I am there.” you smiled at him, even though your heart bleed invisibly inside your chest at the thought of how they would spend the night together.

“No, Y/N. We will adjust. You sleep here in the suite.” Yoongi commented, as firm as a verdict, as he stepped towards where you stood.

“But Yoongi, I am alone, what would I do with all this space?” you sighed. You definitely didn’t want to be left alone at the honeymoon suite, decorated for the newlyweds. You hate it. Totally loathe the decorations. Those giant red hearts had been mocking you since the moment you stepped there. You might tear those to pieces if you were left there alone, raising endless questions regarding such an act.

“You have done enough. You have done much more than you needed to and I feel like I’m taking advantage of your kindness. So, please… stay here. Enjoy the stay. We will manage.” giving you one of his tight lipped smiles, Yoongi slipped out of the room to spend the night with his lover.

That night when you slid inside the covers, which smelled awfully like him because he took a nap earlier in the evening, you started breaking down.

Your hopes, your dreams, and your heart all started crumbling right before your eyes. You held the duvet tightly around yourself and pretended it was yoongi wrapped around you, it was Yoongi, whispering sweet things in your ear, it was Yoongi, telling you that he loved you.

Somewhere you knew, Yoongi is actually doing all these things in real-time but.. Not to you.. Not for you.

You closed your eyes, tears streamed down your cheeks and wetted the pillow. You imagined your life as her… as your girl crush… as the woman your husband, Min Yoongi, loves.

“I've got a girl crush… Hate to admit it but I’ve got a heart rush… It ain’t slowin' down”

#bts angst #yoongi angst #suga angst #bts x reader #yoongi x reader #suga x reader #bts fanfiction #yoongi fanfic #bts x you #suga fanfic #bts arranged marriage au #bts drabble #bts #bts suga #nika's milestone drabble game

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sailoryooons · 1 year ago

Text

Angel | myg (m)

☾ Pairing: Mafia!Yoongi x Sex worker! F. reader

☾ Summary: Yoongi never meant to keep coming back. You never meant to become Yoongi’s favorite. Being Min Yoongi’s favorite has dire consequences.

☾ Word Count: 15,551

☾ Genre: Semi-established relationship, mafia, smut, surprising amount of fluff

☾ Rating: 18+ Minors are strictly prohibited from engaging and reading this content. It contains explicit content and any minors discovered reading or engaging with this work will be blocked immediately.

☾ Warnings: Sex work and mentions of sex work, Yoongi and the reader are very confident in their relationship but also don’t want to ask for more, uses of the word whore negatively in some parts, vague references to dismemberment in an offhand conversation, intense action sequences, depictions of violence, reader is smacked around and kidnapped, depictions of injuries and pain, two sequences of detailed anxiety attacks, graphic depictions of blood, violent scene in which reader fights for her life and gores someone, depictions of murder/panicking while committing murder? Idk how to describe that one, mentions of nightmares/light reference to PTSD post-murder, explicit language, explicit sexual content including oral (m. and f. receiving) light throat fucking, nipple play, ass play (f. receiving), unprotected vaginal sex, Yoongi… almost doing a strip tease but it’s not as goofy as that it’s more sensual?? Yoongi is a little bit possessive at the end.

☾ Published: September 3, 2023

☾ A/N: You voted for it, you got it! Introducing the fic that came out on top for the Hali’s Happy Agust Bracket Challenge! Thank you to everyone who voted during the entire month of August, I had such an amazing time seeing everyone yelling and voting and sharing and having fun with it. It means the world to me that you guys have fun and enjoy doing these kinds of things! Here is mafia Yoongi in all of his glory - I did try to keep it tame with the murder/violence/criminal side of it because there are things in this genre I’d like to table in later (most likely on Hali’s After Dark) but I hope that you enjoy this! Somehow it really turned into two people who are just !!! eternally confident in one another, despite their strange trades. Shout out to the hurricane and covid for FAILING TO STOP ME FROM WRITING THIS I’M A GOD (not really I am very tired but I did it osifjdoigj). This is mostly edited.

☾ Disclaimer: All members of BTS are faces and name claims for this story. This is entirely a work of fiction and by no means is meant to be a projection, judgment or representation of real-life people. Any scenarios or representations of the people and places mentioned in works are not representative of real-life scenarios.

Masterlist | Ask | Angel Playlist

Yoongi would rather be anywhere else but the low lit, smoky club. The production team on the dancefloor below uses way too much cryogenic smoke for Yoongi’s taste, fogging the dancing bodies with thick clouds, the lasers reflecting off the smoke in dizzying patterns. From the VIP section, he isn’t choked by the haze, but he is choking on the cloying perfume of the woman in his lap.

She’s pretty enough, one of Kwan’s finest. No doubt trained from a very young age to please her employer’s most prestigious guests. Yoongi doesn’t touch her though, save for letting her sit on his lap, her hand cradling the back of his neck. She leans into his chest, her breath close to his ear as he watches Kwan consider Yoongi’s deal.

Yoongi doesn’t have to make the deal at all. Offering to become a minority owner of the club is a mercy, really. Yoongi could go after the investors who fronted the money when Kwan opened his business in the middle of the entertainment district, and he could wipe out the petty criminals pushing drugs in shadowy alcoves near the bathroom, damaging the cut that Kwan takes from them at the end of each night.

Yoongi could even go as far as to sow chaos every night, sending in his followers to pick fights with the elite clientele, make it a nightmare for the celebrity clients and cities government officials who use the back rooms for more nefarious matters, exposing the underbelly of La Vie if he felt like it.

Investments, Hoseok always insists. Investments, not enemies. They already hate that you’re taking a chunk of what they built - especially the seaside property. Let’s try to play nice and show face.

Forcing hands is exactly how Yoongi got to this position, sitting in a club and offering Kwan a rather generous deal: Kwan retains eighty percent of ownership, Yoongi becomes a twenty percent owner, the only person allowed to supply the club’s drugs, is paid for security services, and has access to the information funneled through those that work the private client rooms. He could just take it like he always has, and he still has half a mind to do.

Men like Kwan who think they’re savvy in business and the nuances of the criminal enterprises that run the city make Yoongi’s lip curl.

“These terms are bullshit, and I don’t have control of the back rooms.” Kwan looks up from the contract, glasses sliding down his nose. He’s a little bit older than Yoongi, and good looking. He has a traditionally handsome face that idols and actors like to get moderated to look like. He looks like new money though, with designer pieces that don’t quite match and a Patek watch that is flashy, but not coveted. “While it is under my jurisdiction, it is a handshake deal with Anya that she runs them the way she wants. They are her clients, not mine.”

“Then Anya will have a handshake deal with me.” Kwan’s face darkens. Yoongi is tired of this. Is tired of the feeling of the girl’s hand stroking the hair at the base of his neck, is tired of the way she presses up against him, and is tired of Kwan’s dawdling.

“Take the weekend to think about it,” Yoongi insists and stands. The girl falls off him, letting out a surprised sound as she hits the booth. Yoongi adjusts his suit and frowns when he sees there is body glitter on it. He casts a harsh look at the girl who stares up at him with big eyes before turning back to Kwan. “There are no terms for negotiating. Thank you for the drinks and the entertainment. You’ll hear from me.”

Kwan’s face is red like the neon of Yoongi’s favorite motel when he walks out of the booth. Synth and base rattle the metal catwalk that makes up the VIP section, overlooking the dancefloor. Seokjin slides into step with Yoongi as he goes, an imposing shadow as they circumnavigate the walkway.

It’s loud and raucous when they get to the dance floor. Members of the security team watch Yoongi as he goes, their eyes alert. He pays them little attention, just like the gazes of the people dancing in the ground when they catch sight of him.

Sometimes, Yoongi feels a little bit like a myth in moments like this. Out in public, Yoongi is an astutely dressed man who speaks quietly and says very few words. He wears nice but not gaudy jewelry, and he always styles his long hair slicked back, showing off the faded, red scar over his eye. What Yoongi lacks in height, he makes up for in omnipresent stares and quick reactions.

Everyone in the city knows exactly who Min Yoongi is, and they know that he doesn’t make threats. He simply acts.

Outside, rain falls from the inky sky. Hoseok leans against the brick wall under the awning, clove-tinged smoke drifting from the cigarette jammed between his lips. When he sees Yoongi, Hoseok pushes off the wall and adjusts his suit jacket. Where Seokjin looks tall, dark and imposing, Hoseok is wiry and sharp, dressed in all white, looking pristine as he raises his eyebrows at Yoongi in question. Yoongi nods towards the idling SUV as an answer.

They don’t bother with an umbrella. Yoongi ducks his head down as he quickly walks across the pavement and into the car. The interior is moderately cool in the SUV. He takes a seat in the middle, Seokjin sitting alone in the row behind him and Hoseok to his right.

Outside of the rainy window, the world turns into a smear of wet neon. Checking his watch, Yoongi notes that it’s just past midnight. If he hurries, he can stop by the Red before he goes home for the evening. If he goes home for the evening, at that point. The thought of sinking into sheets that smell like almond and cinnamon ease him.

“So?” Hoseok flicks through his phone, face lit up blue by the screen. He looks hauntingly beautiful, all edges and sharp lines. “Deal or no deal?”

“Giving him the weekend to think about it.” Hoseok sighs. “He thinks it’s a bad deal for him because it it is, and he’s stuck on the operation Anya runs in the back rooms. He doesn’t want to lose that connection to her. She feeds him information for his extortion of city officials.”

“How else would he have cleared that permit near the docks to build,” Seokjin mutters. Yoongi casts a glance into the back seat where Seokjin sullenly stares out of the window. “Fucker is sticking his nose in a district he has no rights to. At least we had the means to get that operation cancelled.”

“Yeah, and it’s part of why he doesn’t want to deal with us,” Hoseok says. “Even so, offering the deal is the right move. If he doesn’t take it, crush him like a fucking bug. He’s an intelligent businessman, it’s no surprise that he’s going to try and find a way around you. He might sniff around or try and fuck up some assets.”

“Hobi, you better fucking hope he doesn’t go to that fucker Seo.”

“He doesn’t have the balls. Seo Changbin is unhinged and volatile. He’s more likely to send Kwan to his family in chainsawed pieces.”

Yoongi grunts, amused. “Bang has kept him under control as of late. Seokjin, have Jungkook look into getting some people in there. I’m not interested in them linking up as permanent partners.”

A headache presses against Yoongi’s temples. He doesn’t care to debate politics and machinations with Hoseok and Seokjin. He closes his eyes and rests his head against the headrest, letting their discussion fall to a dull sound.

Yoongi feels like he’s bleeding at the edges, the color of him spilling out of neat lines and all over the pages. His empire is growing faster than he can keep up with, he’s playing politics more than he’s playing the savvy gangster, and the more capital he gains, the more of himself he loses.

When Yoongi had started to climb the ladder of crime and chaos, he didn’t know where it would lead him. An early grave, perhaps. But Yoongi has always been smart and knows how to pick his battles, knows how to innovate. He is not the most inspiring man to lead people in the underbelly of the city, but he does know what he’s talking about and he’s good at guessing what people want most.

People, he’s discovered, all want the same thing, whether they’re at the bottom rung or the top.

The boy he once was wouldn’t recognize him. The new Yoongi wears designer suits, the carefully curated art collections in the opulent halls of his home, the shaking hands with political figures to help install certain assurances within the city. There are more officials that line Yoongi’s pocket than there are gangs in the city, but it’s a weapon he wields well.

Old Yoongi might not be so impressed.

Yoongi feels the phantom ache of the scar on his eye. It doesn’t matter what old Yoongi wants, though. This new version of him is doing whatever he needs to live another day and to install another brick in his kingdom.

The driver drops Yoongi off at home. Tall gates with security cameras and guard house at the entrance keeps almost everyone away from the Min estate. There’s been a few idiots here or there who have climbed the walls and met the three lovely dobermans that roam the property freely.

Erebus catches Yoongi’s eyes as he walks to the large garage. The eldest of Yoongi’s canines sits and watches Yoongi approach with keen, dark eyes. He grins at the dog, whistling lowly. Erebus stands and joins Yoongi on his way to the side door, jamming in a code to the garage.

Inside, the automatic lights flip on. Yoongi squints from the harsh lighting, closing the door behind him. Rows of vehicles gleam under the fluorescents. Sports cars, old collectibles, sturdy SUVs. Yoongi has an armada at his disposal, though he so rarely drives himself anywhere these days. Not after Seo put a hit on him a few months ago, the insane fuck.

Yoongi pulls the tie loose from his neck and begins to change. He presses his finger on a thumb-print lock to a wardrobe and pops it open. Inside are casual clothes: jeans, a t-shirt, a riding jacket, boots and a gleaming black helmet. Nondescript clothes that can belong to anyone.

Every movement feels heavy. He should go upstairs and swallow down something to help him knockout, but he doesn’t. Instead, he finishes going through the motions and tosses the worn clothes in the wardrobe and walks over to the parked H2R in, all sleek, black metal.

Erebus sniffs Yoongi’s knee once, a sort of send off. Yoongi bends down and kisses the doberman on the head before shooing him, sending the dog through the garage and up the stairs that lead to the main house.

Instead of starting the bike in the garage and peeling out the front of the home, Yoongi pops the kickstand up and walks it out of the side door, careful not to bang the tailpipe on the door or scrape the shiny black paint. Once outside, he walks it through the entire yard, arms aching a little as he keeps the bike balanced.

Gravel crunches beneath his boots and the tires of the motorcycle. Crickets chirp in the yard until he makes it to the back gate in his home that opens up to a government only street. Being back-to-back with the minister has its perks, like an extra security measure that he doesn’t have to monitor constantly.

Swinging his leg over the bike, Yoongi slides the helmet on, turns the key, and presses the on switch. It roars to life, vibrating underneath him. He revs it a few times before he pulls back on the throttle and shoots down the street like a bullet from a gun.

Iron gates, walls and security houses blur past him. He lives among the gods of the city, high up over the glittering lights and those who pay pilgrimage to the political, criminal and tech giants who loom over them. Yoongi was one of them not that long ago, rising faster than he could have thought possible.

Still, he descends often. Nightly, even. Like even the most powerful gods, Yoongi’s weakness is a vice he can’t - doesn’t want to - rid himself from. While he doesn’t think of himself as impervious, Yoongi doesn’t have many weaknesses.

His biggest one, though, spends most days at the Red with a private suite in the luxury pleasure house disguised as a motel.

Yoongi parks his bike in a secured garage that he has a paid spot in. The payment for it is discrete and in all cash, one of Yoongi’s several attempts at covering his tracks when he visits.

The garage is still a few blocks away from the Red. He tucks his hands into his pocket, enjoying the balmy evening, rain still clinging to the air though not falling now. This late at night, there aren’t many people out. Cars drive by, tires hissing on the wet road. Neon lights burn above fluorescent-lit windows of small food shops.

At the end of a dead end street, a red motel sign buzzes against the night sky. The non-descript brick building doesn’t look like much, but Yoongi knows better than most. Instead of approaching the front door, he leans against the wall a few shops down, tucked underneath the shadow of an awning.

Pulling his phone out, he dials and brings it up to his ear. As the phone rings, he looks up at the four-story building. There are windows with dark curtains pulled shut and never opened. Yoongi knows that the glass looks ordinary, but is bullet proof grade to protect the most private of clients.

It doesn’t look like much. The brick is old, it’s bracketed by a laundromat and a hardware store, and across the street is a noodle shop and boarded up general store.

“It’s late,” you answer, voice scratchy. Yoongi nearly shivers at the sound of your voice, eyes fluttering shut as he breathes in the rain-tinged night. “What’s a girl to do when a boy calls her this late, hmm?”

“Let said boy upstairs and out of the rain.”

“Hmm.” You don’t say yes, but Yoongi can hear the rustle of sheets and the soft creak of the bed when you get up. He waits in silence, though he imagines you’re walking across the bedroom to head to the main part of the state room. “It’s not even raining anymore, I bet.”

“It is. I’m soaked to the bone. Freezing. I might catch a cold.”

“Whatever shall we do?”

He grins, ducking his head. He can feel the warmth climb up his neck to his face, shaking his head. Only you can get him like this, heart skipping like he’s in grade school making out with someone behind the bleachers for the first time.

“Come on,” you tease on the other line. “Your door will be open.”

“Thanks, Angel.”

“Mhmm.”

His door isn’t really his. But it is a private access door in the back of the alley that requires a keycard and has an armed guard sitting in a security room next to the entry way on the inside. Yoongi hangs up the phone and heads to the special door, avoiding the puddles dripping from fire escapes.

Just as Yoongi reaches the heavy door, he hears the beep of the auto-lock and it swings open with you leaning on the frame. He wants to eat you whole. You’re not in work clothes, meaning you either wrapped up a while ago or didn’t work tonight. He doesn’t want to know so he doesn’t ask, instead walking up to you as you step to the side and let him in.

Glowing light flickers underneath the security door to the left. You close the door behind you and pass him, letting your fingers grab his hand and link fingers. There are security cameras here, but it’ll look normal, with you pulling him through the halls and to the elevator. Touching is very much permitted here. Encouraged. Required.

In the elevator, you stand by Yoongi. He leans into you, silent. You squeeze his hand, very small in his, but warm enough to soothe him. You smell faintly almond and cinnamon, making him go wild as he presses a kiss to the top of your head. You giggle, leaning into him fully, arm pressed to arm.

Perhaps it’s stupid to be so open like this. When Yoongi first started coming here, he was still and awkward, never coming too close, never letting himself be too familiar. Now, the need for you is too strong. He doesn’t care if there’s a camera on him watching him melt into you. He doesn’t care if maybe it shows that this is a little more than money, a little more than just a quick fix.

Yoongi has been coming to you for almost three years. He doesn’t remember when it stopped being about sex, but it hasn’t been that way for a while. At first, he thought it was so silly. Mafia man in love with a woman he pays to have sex with him. Except it wasn’t so silly. You’d long stopped considering him a client and insisting he doesn’t pay you.

He doesn’t dare. He doesn’t know what money you make from clients. He knows that it has to be good to be at the Red, which specializes in top clientele. He knows it has to be great, even, because you always meet on your terms. In this space.

He also doesn’t dare to ask you to stop. He doesn’t know how many clients you take, or who. He doesn’t know when, he doesn’t know how often. He knows nothing about your work except that he doesn’t ask you to stop and you don’t ask him if he wants you too.

It’s an unspoken rule between you. Yoongi is too afraid to ask you to come live with him, and perhaps you’re too afraid to ask him to take you. Whatever the reasons, neither one of you is brave enough to cross the line first. So instead, you dance along it, making whatever this is work.

Inside the stateroom is clean and smells like expensive candles. The room is luxurious and is exclusively yours. A cut of your earnings go to holding the room, just like the rest of the workers in the other rooms.

With the door firmly locked behind the two of you, Yoongi heads to the open kitchen and leans against the counter, facing you. You kick off your slippers and turn to face him, half shadowed by the darkness of the hall, half lit by the warm salt lamp in the living room.

Yoongi drags his eyes up and down your frame. Soft curves, gentle lips, kind eyes. He was gone the first time he saw you, and he’s gone now. Even after all this time.

“What?” you ask, fingers fidgeting with your t-shirt. He thinks it might be one of his, but he might be imagining it.

“Come here,” he instructs, patting his thigh.

You grin and approach him. He opens his arms for you and he sighs as you press against him. Your arms wrap around his middle, squeezing him tight. Slotting your head between his shoulder and neck, you hide your face against him, breath warm against his throat. He envelops you in his arms, wrapped around your shoulders and draped down your back.

Almond fills his senses. He closes his eyes for a second, breathing you in. You don’t say anything, content to sag against him in the low light of the room. This is what he comes here for more than anything. Everything else you offer is secondary. His foremost desire is this - you.

“Everything okay?” you finally ask, because of course you do.

“Mhmm. Just a long night.”

“You smell like perfume.”

“Hmm?”

“Like peaches.”

He opens his eyes and looks down at you. You crane your head so that you’re peering up at him with one eye, brow arched. His mouth twitches. “Jealous?”

“Maybe.”

“Interesting.”

“Not particularly.”

He lowers his arms, letting them drape around your waist. He smacks the round of your ass a bit, not enough to hurt but enough to make you pout. “We really going to get into the mechanics of this right now?”

Your smile is all he needs to know you’re not serious. At least, not enough to do something about it. “No, but it’s fun to tease you.”

“Perhaps I should tease you back, then.”

Hand in hand, you lead him to your room. Yoongi sees the white sheets and grins. White sheets are for him. Grey sheets are for clients, something you’d established in the infancy of whatever this relationship is. He appreciates the little layers of how you make things different for him. You make him feel special - and not the kind that he pays for.

Falling backward into the bed, you look up at him with those fucking eyes that make him week in the knees. It’s dark in the room but he knows it well, standing at the foot of your bed and reaching down to snatch an ankle and pull you a bit closer. You squeal as he does, making a jolt of joy go through him, grinning.

“How was your day?” he asks, lifting your foot to rest on his shoulder. He presses an innocent kiss to your ankle and he watches your brows furrow. “What?”

“Are you a foot person?”

“What if I was?”

You shrug a shoulder, watch him trail kisses down your calf. He nips the meat of your leg, an innocent bite but one that makes your leg twitch. “I’d say I’m surprised to learn something new about you after three years.”

“Yeah?” Yoongi lowers himself so that he’s on his knees, the carpet pressing into his slacks. The back of your knee fits perfectly over his shoulder, your leg resting along his back. You lean up on your elbows and look down at him, watching him settle between your legs. “Think you know everything about me, huh?”

Yoongi’s hands feel your warm skin. He marvels at the softness of your thighs, stroking his hands back and forth. Looking at you, he raises his brow in question. You’re too distracted by the feeling of his hands. It stirs something in him, and he cruves his fingers, dragging his blunt nails softly against your skin.

“Feels good,” you mumble, half-lidded. “I do know everything about you, Min Yoongi.”

“That so?”

“Yes. I could eat your heart if I wanted to.”

Yoongi’s stomach flips at how right you are, at how much you know it. Your confidence in his feelings never fails to make him feel like he is cut open and laid bare at your feet, waiting for you to step on him. To make him regret that vulnerability.

You never do. At every turn, you’ve shown him that you won’t take advantage. That you have no desire to use the fact that one of the most powerful men in the city is in the palm of your hand. Power for the taking. You could wield him like a weapon, he thinks, and yet you don’t. All you want from him is for him to speak freely, to kiss you often, and to hold you tightly.

So he does.

Yoongi presses kisses up the softness of your thighs. You drop from your elbows to lay flat on your back again, your breath catching. He watches raptly at the rise and fall of your chest as you gasp a little. He knows exactly what you like, reaching for your sleep shorts to pull them off slowly.

Tonight, he has nowhere else to go. Neither do you, letting him lean further up between your legs to press wet, open-mouthed kisses against your hips. You squirm a little, sensitive in the hip area. He loves it - would die for it - letting his tongue slip between his teeth to lave over your hot skin to soothe stinging flesh where he’s nipped you.

His hands are familiar with every dimple in your skin and every curve. He traces them as he pulls your shorts down, grabbing the elastic band of your underwear as he does. He throws them on the floor, hands settling on the inside of your knees as he presses you open, dropping his eyes to your wet folds.

Yoongi groans. You’re always so eager for him. That’s never been an illusion, the way your cunt drips slowly down to the curve of your ass at the most innocent of touches from him. It fuels Yoongi’s ego, knowing he has this effect on you. Knowing he’s the only one who can get you trembling in anticipation just by kissing the inside of your knees.

He made the mistake only once asking if you ever get off with your other clients. The flash of anger and irritation had never made him ask again, but you at least gave him an answer: no.

Thinking back on it now, Yoongi doesn’t know why he asked. He doesn’t care who you have before or between. All he cares about is being in the darkness of this room, your scent heady, his head shadowed between your legs.

Leaning forward, Yoongi drags the flat of his tongue up your cunt slowly. You let out a moan and he hums, closing his eyes. He’s been craving your sweet tang all day, the tip of his tongue lingering just under your clit before he drags around it, missing your bundle of nerves on purpose. You let out a sound but he grins, removing his tongue to return to tracing sloppy kisses on your legs instead.

Already lightheaded, he grounds himself by sliding his hands along the outside of your thighs, gripping you here and there as he lavishes you with attention. He knows he’s tired, but he at least wants this. Wants to taste you before bed, to have you melt in his mouth, fingers in his hair. He needs it.

Yoongi doesn’t dip into the drugs that his operation injects into the streets. He doesn’t need to. There’s nothing that makes him forget who and where he is the way you do. Nothing that amounts to feeling your soft skin beneath his palms, smelling the barest hint of sweat beneath your vanilla perfume.

When Yoongi gets a taste of you, it’s an instant high. He feels lost, hands skimming up your thighs to hold your hips to the bed. Your hands seek his, linking your fingers and pressing your joined hands to your hips as he drags his tongue up the inside of your thigh.

This is why he keeps coming back. The intimacy. The reassurance that this is something more than an accident that Yoongi stumbled on a few years ago. That this is more than the roll of bills he will leave on the nightstand tonight, even when you say not to.

There is nothing else he needs in these stolen moments with you.

“Yoongi,” you murmur, voice soft. He hums in response. “Please, I’m going to lose my mind.”

“Good,” he shoots back, biting your knee. You twitch and curse at him, making him laugh. Your glossy cunt is a sure sign that you’re not lying, though. Clit swollen, hole clenching. “Fuck, you have such a wet pussy.”

“Then put your fucking mouth on it, Yoongi.”

He laughs. “As you wish, Angel.”

A breathy whine in the shape of Yoongi’s name leaves your mouth when he starts to eat you out properly. He takes his time, eyes closed as he indulges, tongue rolling up and down your slick pussy. You turn liquid in his mouth, your hips canting as he flicks his tongue across your clit. You shiver in his hands and he grins, gently sucking your clit into his mouth.

“Yeah,” you pant. “Fuck, like that.”

Alternating between fastening his mouth on your pussy to suck gently and sliding his tongue into your hole, Yoongi goes with what he knows makes you a mess. Holds out his tongue and lets you fuck yourself against his face, your hand coming to grip his long hair.

The wet slide of you against his face makes him ache in his pants. He ignores it, determined to hold you still as he buries his face in deeper, picking up the firmness and pace of his mouth and tongue. He feels your essence drip down his chin and his neck. Hears the squelch when he thrusts his tongues into your pussy. Can’t get enough of the way your thighs close around his head, muffling the sound of you whining and saying his name.

Yoongi’s scalp stings when you pull his hair. He doesn’t care. He whips his head back and forth between your legs, tongue pressed against your throbbing clit. You’re shaking underneath him and he pushes you further, dipping low to slurp at your pussy bottom to top, not letting an ounce of you spill out.

“Holy fuck,” you squeak, voice high-pitched as you arch off the bed. He looks up at you, mouth attached. “Your fucking mouth.”

He grins, and leans into you further, pushes your thighs higher. Your legs bend easily under his weight. His hips are pressed against the foot of the bed now, hips rolling slightly, seeking for friction. His eyes close as he gets the barest bit of friction against his cock, more focused on making you come into his mouth than getting himself off.

When you come, your whole body goes taut. Yoongi holds you tight in his hands, mouth moving against you messily as he licks you through your orgasm. You dissolve in his mouth, making him hum against your heat. You twist in the sheets, body twitching, muscles flexing. He avoids your clit, thrusting his tongue into your entrance until you’re gasping for air, hands pressing against his head to get him to stop.

Yoongi removes his mouth with one, lascivious lick. He sits backwards on his feet, panting as he looks at you melt into the bed. Your limbs are lifeless and tangled in the blankets, your hand over your eyes as you catch your breath. You look fucking beautiful.

“Come here,” you rasp, voice rough.

The bed creaks under Yoongi’s weight. He walks over on his knees, drinking you in. Your cum slicks your thighs, shining in the barest shaft of light escaping the bathroom from a nightlight. You turn to face him, face balmy with sweat. You reach up and work the zipper on his pants, making his stomach flip.

“You don’t-”

“Shut up,” you growl, tugging the metal down hard. He smirks as you press your fingers into his hard shaft through the cotton of his briefs. “Wanna feel your cock in my throat. Can you fuck my mouth?”

“Fuck yeah, Angel.”

Yoongi nearly falls getting out of his pants. You laugh, the sound so sweet that he feels himself blush. He’s hot all over, coming alive in the darkness of your room as he strokes his cock. You look innocent, splayed on the bed and blinking up at him.

Precum drips from his dark tip and you open your mouth, tongue catching it. He curses under his breath, entranced by the way your tongue disappears between your lips. You hum, a glint in your eye as you smirk at him.

“Vixen,” he says, shaking his head.

“Give it to me.”

One day he thinks he’s going to die of loving you. He knows that this is what it is. It’s more than you opening your mouth and sticking out your tongue for him. It’s more than him letting you suckle on the tip of his cock playfully, his eyes fluttering shut and his thigh muscles twitching.

Yoongi loves you. It is an incredibly simple fact in his over-complicated world. Among all of the shit and the moves and countermoves he deals with every day, coming here to simply be in love with you is a relief. A home.

A shiver crawls up his back as he slowly inches his cock into your mouth. Your mouth is wet and warm, your tongue rough on the sensitive underside of his shaft. He keeps one hand on the base of his cock and the other on your jaw, keeping your mouth open to make the slide easier.

Everything fades away again. Yoongi sucks in a sharp breath as you open up for him. When he touches the back of your throat, he’s careful at first. He knows you can take it. You’ve taken so much more from him, gone so much harder. He doesn’t want to go hard tonight though. He feels soft at the edges, your taste lingering in his mouth.

The wet sound of your throat convulsing around him making him stroke faster. He knows you’re okay, breathing heavily through your nose as you gurgle around him, spit and precum slicking his shaft as he pulls in and out, marveling at the way you look at him, eyes watering.

Your eyes fix on him. Yoongi clenches his teeth, trying not to burst in your mouth. It’s hard when you look at him like that, gaze so dark and hungry and fathomless. You’ve never said you love him. You don’t have to. He knows. He knows in the same way he is aware you know he loves you. He knows enough to trust you with him. With everything.

There’s not a single doubt with you. It is a rare gift to share this open trust with someone, especially in his position. It is an added bonus that you know he loves it when you swallow around his cock as he presses into the back of your throat. The tight heat of your throat constricting around him does him in, and Yoongi comes with a growl.

You take it in stride, gulping. Taking it down. His eyes roll back in his head and he thinks that if he didn’t love you already, this alone would make him fall in love.

Pulling out his softening cock, he falls backward on the bed. He’s still in the top half of his clothes, but he is exhausted, lashes fluttering. Your hands are delicate as you begin to pull the jacket from his body. He rolls to the side and lets you, lost in the daze of a much needed orgasm. He feels at ease now, more than he has all day.

“Come on,” you whisper, pressing a kiss to the spot under his ear. “Take a quick shower while I change the sheets, they’re sweaty. And I came on them.”

“I’d sleep in them anyway.”

“Hmm, too bad. Shower.”

“Meh.”

“Yoongi, you smell like a whore.” That makes him crack an eye and look at you. Your gaze is pointed. “And not like me. I don’t like it.”

“Huh. So you are jealous.”

“Get in the shower.” Your mouth twitches as you try to fight a smile. “Or else.”

Getting up before the sun is your favorite thing. Even now, when you’re tired from being woken up in the middle of the night, you make an effort to crawl out of bed to make coffee. Your steps are heavy and you shiver in the freezing air of the kitchen as you open a drawer and pull out a coffee pod. You hold it up close to make sure you’ve got Yoongi’s favorite brand before sticking it in the machine and popping the lid down, punching the button to brew.

Yoongi is a sleeping mound in your bed. Leaning against the counter, you admire him from afar. He’ll be up soon, your body clock tuned to the hours of his operation. It’s been that way for over a year now, your circadian rhythm trained to be the most functional during the hours in which Yoongi is awake.

When you were younger, you would have hated to admit that. Would have detested the thought of ever adjusting a single part of yourself for a man. Your entire job was to be moldable. To put on whatever face your client needed, to shape yourself into whatever person that you needed to be.

You have been so many things. A wife. A mistress. A temptress. A lost loved one. And darker things still, sliding on the skin of client’s fantasies over-and-over again until you lost the substance that made up whoever you were for hours at a time.

Back then, it would take hours and days to regain who you were. It wasn’t until you were more advanced that you were able to separate who you are from who you pretended to be. Now, it’s not necessarily. There is no other, no mask. Just you and Yoongi, the single client you decided was worth being moldable for.

The smell of coffee wakes him up before his alarm. You watch him sit up in bed, eyes not yet open. His hand spreads to where he expects to find you, only to discover open space. He swivels back and forth then, looking for you. Maybe a little panicked.

A pang aches your heart. It is so easy to forget that even after years of getting up before him first, Yoongi will never be trained out of the instinct that something of his has been taken. The day he doesn’t worry is the day he’ll lose everything and you know it.

“I’m over here,” you call gently. He relaxes and pulls himself together before getting out of bed and trudging out of the room.

Yoongi is pretty in the morning. His face is swollen with sleep, making him look so much younger. Like a dumpling, even. His mouth is fixed in a pout as he rubs at his eyes, steps uneven and dark hair sticking up all over the place. He looks at you, eyes glassy. The faded pink scar over his eye is less intimidating in the morning. You grin and open your arms. His reaction is automatic, sliding between them and sinking into your embrace, head thudding to your shoulder.

“Hi,” you purr, your hands squeezing around his middle. His shirt is soft in your fingers as you play with the hem. He grunts back, not much of a morning person. You don’t mind. Instead, you let him lay his weight on you, unwilling to move even as the coffee finishes brewing. He smells like sage shampoo and something more unique to him. “You okay, sleepyhead?”

“Mhmm.”

“Can’t talk yet?” he shakes his head against you and you laugh. “Come on, coffee.”

With Yoongi latched on to you, you walk over to the coffee maker. You giggle, elated as he clings to your front, letting you move him backwards. With his butt pressed against the counter and arms wrapped around you, you lean around him to grab the steaming mug and bring it in front of him.

Pouting, he drops his hands from you and takes it.

Years of mornings and carefully pulling back layers of Yoongi has earned this rare silliness between you. You’re acutely aware of the fact that the sleepy man in front of you, no matter how soft and blushing he is in the mornings, is a murderer. He’s extorted people, has threatened them, sits at the top of drug trade, and has pushed people into political office with dirty money and blood. Your eyes linger on his scar, a memento of his violent youth.

You don’t care. It doesn’t matter what Yoongi is and is not. All that matters to you is that he is Yoongi and that he is yours. At least, yours in the way it matters. You don’t dare ask him for more than what you have. It is the one thing you’re afraid of, because even though you know that he loves you, that you know he trusts you, asking for more is something you don’t want to do. Too many people want more of him. You just want whatever you can have.

As he sips his coffee, careful not to let it spill over and burn you while you bury yourself in snuggling him, you close your eyes. A couple of years ago, you didn’t think a life like this was possible. Getting in at the Red was the first step in the right direction. Though still for sex workers, it was an upper level platform in the industry you clawed your way to.

Both of you are similar in that regard. Yoongi started from nothing. A poor boy who dropped out of school to work a job and help pay rent at his apartment, too uneducated with not enough resources to make a dent in the world. It was the same story for you, though perhaps a little bloody around the edges, a hand that started selling you before you could make the choice yourself.

At the thought of your mother, you feel your jaw clench. The bite of the memory is only soothed by the knowledge of Yoongi putting her down himself. Perhaps it makes you a monster, but you’ve accepted that long ago you were what the world crafted you to be, and you wouldn’t apologize.

If you were Yoongi’s shield, he was your sword. You protected him from the weight of his atrocities, and he slayed your monsters.

It’s what drew Yoongi to you in the first place, the unapologetic approach to life. You appreciate it in him too. He doesn’t try to pretend that he is more or less than what he is, and you never try to hide the ugly parts of yourself.

And here he is anyway, coffee-warm lips pressed against your forehead. It almost makes you ask for more, but you don’t. This is enough for now.

The room at the Red isn’t where you live, but it’s yours in everything except lease. You long stopped using it for its intended purposes, now pleased to use it as a neutral ground to meet Yoongi and to stay where you know he is safe. His sprawling estate under guard and gun is surely safe enough, but you like having Yoongi where you can see him.

After a mostly innocent shower together, Yoongi gets dressed and kisses you goodbye after you walk him down. It’s still dark outside when you swipe your security key. He puts on his biker helmet and gives you a little salute before jogging down the alleyway, splashing into the morning and vanishing around a corner.

You linger for a moment, watching the empty space where he vanished. It would be nicer to be somewhere you didn’t have to escort him out. Somewhere you could be together all the time. You don’t think Yoongi would say no if you invited him over to your apartment, but you don’t have the security and the heavy protection that the Red offers.

Collecting your things, you scribble a note for the cleaner before heading out. You’ll only return to the room if Yoongi intends on swinging by again. Though it is more than a suitable place to spend all your time, you like your small apartment tucked downtown above a coffee shop. It has a hominess that feels more like you. That is a little less sterile.

Sun cracks over the city, spilling light like yolk over the buildings. You shield your eyes as you make your way down the sidewalk, shafts of light falling between buildings. The subway is full of people heading to work. Everyone shuffles without speaking, some buttoning collars of uniforms while others close their eyes in seats, headphones snug over their head.

The lull of the train as it starts makes you drowsy, but you fight to stay awake. Now that you don’t spend hours sleeping in and recovering from servicing clients late into the night, you value your mornings. Want to be the kind of person whose business hours are during the day, to feel the sun on your skin.

At your stop, you disappear in the flow of people going up the steps. The concrete above is still wet from the rain the night before, your steps tapping wetly as you go. It’s still summer, but the wind in the shade is cool as you enter the parking garage of your building, heading toward the elevator.

It’s mostly empty, people having left for work already. There’s a single black SUV by the elevator that you don’t recognize, the windows too dark to see inside. As you approach the car, you realize that it’s on, idling quietly.

Years of living in the wrong part of town have you slowing your steps. Your eyes flicker to the plate to see a metal shield over it, hiding the numbers on the vehicle. The back of your neck tingles. You come to a full stop, staring at the running vehicle. No one makes a move to get out and there’s no indication that someone is inside.

While you don’t live in the luxurious part of town, your neighborhood is relatively safe. It’s not without instances, but you live deep into Yoongi’s territory, his foothold on this block strong. You’ve never had to worry about walking down the road by yourself at night or making it to your apartment when drunk.

Now, you’re worried. Instinct needles you sharply. There is no reason to think the SUV means you any harm, but something is screaming at you to walk away.

Then the elevator opens and a normal looking man and woman exit. They don’t pay you any mind as they get into the vehicle, shutting the back door. Your nerves ease and you laugh at yourself for being so ridiculous. There’s no reason for anyone to be doing something nefarious this early in the morning.

Shaking yourself out of it, you walk the rest of the way to the elevator. As you reach your hand to press the button to call the elevator car, you hear the sound of the car doors opening. You whip your head to look over your shoulder as men get out of the passenger seat and the back seat.

Instinct kicks in. You turn and run, screaming shrilly for anyone that can hear you. They take off after you, steps thundering against the pavement as the SUV squeals its tires to back out of the spot and peel after you. There’s nowhere to go but out into the street. You head for the sidewalk only to be snatched from behind and lifted off your feet.

You react immediately. You throw your elbow back, connecting to one of the men’s faces. He screams and you hear bones crunch. He drops you but your knees buckle, a mix of fear and lack of coordination making you fall to the ground. The other man is on top of you, pressing you into the ground as you scream savagely, kicking your limbs to wiggle out of his grip.

He grabs your hair and pulls. You yell out, eyes smarting from the sting in your scalp as he then shoves your face into the ground. It hurts. Pain blooms in the side of your face. You’re aware of tiny pieces of gravel digging into soft skin, cutting up your face. The sting is small in comparison to the throb that pulses through your cheekbone as he grinds your face into the pavement.

Screams echo in the garage as you’re yanked backwards. There are several hands on you, grip like iron. You snarl and yank your limbs to no avail. Just as you’re pulled into the interior of the car, a piece of cloth is slapped hard against your face. You gasp in surprise, a pungent smell filling your nose before you feel a swift fog take over, your mind fading until there is nothing left.

Pain. It’s the first thing you feel when you come to. It’s a slow sort of drift toward awareness, like sluggishly swimming to the surface of a deep lake. You manage to drag yourself there, but immediately want to sink back into the nothingness again once you feel how much you hurt.

Your face perhaps hurts the most. Not only does your skin burn, but it feels like you’ve been rocked with a cinderblock on the left side of your face. You dully recall having your head pressed into the concrete with near bone-breaking force. It explains why when you open your eyes, the left feels a little swollen.

The room you’re in is empty. Your shoulder muscles are on fire, hands tied behind your back in the chair you’re sitting in. It’s hard to pinpoint what hurts worse, body littered with bruises and injuries. Still, you’re alive and that has to count for something.

A man leans against the wall across from you. He watches you curiously. When you become aware of him, you straighten a little in the seat. Your ass tingles with the numbness of sitting there for who knows how long, and your biceps strain with the movement, making you hiss.

“I’d like to untie you,” the man offers. “But I need a guarantee that you’ll behave.”

You want out of the ropes, so you nod your head. He nods once and pushes off the wall, walking over to you. You use the nearness of his proximity to gather as many details as you can: Patek watch, a basic model. He smells like mandarin and something spicy like pepper - maybe an Arabian fragrance. The suit he’s in is well-tailored and when he pulls a knife out of his pocket to cut the ropes around your wrist, you see a mother-of-pearl handle.

Money. This man has money.

Relief makes you sigh, melting into the chair when the pressure in your shoulder blades releases. You immediately lift your hands and place them into your lap, rubbing your trembling fingers across your palms, pressing firmly to encourage blood flow. Your handles tingle as the circulation begins to return to normal, though you can’t make a fist or move all of your appendages immediately.

The man backs away and leans against the wall once more. He’s incredibly handsome, the kind of guy who might be an actor or in the movie industry, perhaps. You continue to assess him, placing him a few years older than yourself. His hands are linked in front of him. No marriage ring, no tan to indicate there was once a band there either.

The expensive cologne matched with the watch leads you to believe someone else picked them out, which leaves you with two options: a lover or a sales associate. Judging the make of the watch, you know it doesn’t look like a limited edition series, so not a very personal gift, if a gift at all. And while the cologne smells expensive, it’s too spicy for a day scent, indicating that he doesn’t have someone to tell him the difference between night and daytime colognes.

If you have to guess, they’re things he’s purchased himself on the advice of a sales associate or because of the amount of numbers on the price tag. It’s a habit that comes with new money.

“I apologize for the roughness,” he offers. “It wasn’t my intent to hurt you.”

“Intent matters little. Results matter a lot.”

“Well said.”

Feeling starts to come back to your hands as you flex them. You’re in some sort of construction building. It looks like maybe an apartment building in the making, with plastic tarps covering the windows and metal scaffolding exposing unfinished concrete. Outside, you think you faintly hear the sound of docks and workers.

“Do you know where we are?”

You look him up and down. “We’re in a building. You’re against a wall, and I’m in a chair.”

He scoffs. “Smart mouth.”

“You asked a question.”

“So I did. We’re in a building that was supposed to be my next venture. Someone, however, got in the way and created a bunch of red tape with the city. Now my funding has been slashed and this building has been sitting unfinished for a year, draining me of my property taxes.”

“Well,” you deadpan. “I’m a whore, not a lender. I can’t get you a loan.”

He grins, but you can’t tell if he’s amused. “You’re not just any whore though, are you? I have on good authority you service high profile clients. One of your clients is the reason this building is stuck in paperwork, and now he wants to take even more from me. I can’t let that happen.”

Yoongi. He’s talking about Yoongi and you know it. You try not to squirm in your seat, meeting his dark eyes head on. Your mind is trying to make decisions and keep up as much as possible, funneling through the list of names Yoongi has mentioned, anything at all that can give you a leg up.

“High profile clients are where the money is,” you admit. You think perhaps this man is Kwan Daehyun, whom Yoongi has been playing chess with for the better part of a year. “I don’t like to sell information on my clients, but I suppose you know that since you kidnapped me.”

“Consider the sales price on this particular client’s information to be your life. I just need a little bit of information, and you’re free.”

You shrug. “You’ve got me there. What do you want to know?”

“Min Yoongi.” You continue to stare at him, giving away nothing. Your heart is racing in your chest and you try to keep your hands from shaking. When you continue not to answer, he clicks his tongue, annoyed. “What can you tell me about his weaknesses?”

You can’t help it, you laugh. Kwan frowns as you giggle. It hurts to laugh, face bursting with pain as you catch your breath and shake your head. “What a cheesy fucking questions. What, you think I just have a list of things that can hurt Min Yoongi?”

“I know how pillow talk goes. He must talk about his stress. Brag about his assets. What else do men go to whores for?”

“To get their cock sucked, usually.”

Kwan pushes off the wall and storms toward you. You sneer up at him, a little less afraid of him now. He appears small and gutless to you, kidnapping a sex worker to ask for pillow talk secrets to gain a fucking advantage. It means he has nothing on Yoongi and has resorted to pisspoor tactics to get anything usable against Yoongi.

Though how he managed to get to you is unsettling. You’re unsure how he made the connection, or how long he has been watching Yoongi. You find that to be the most irritating, to know that Yoongi has been under surveillance for any period of time. Not that you’ve been smacked around and put in an abandoned building on threat of murder.

“I will fucking kill you.”

There is truth in his words. Questioning you is a desperate attempt, but perhaps not his only. It occurs to you that he doesn’t thin you hold any value beyond questioning you, and though he’s said he’ll spare you life, you don’t think that’s true. He only sees you as a vacuum for information, and if you don’t have it or you give it to him, he’ll kill you.

You need to be valuable. And fast.

“Kill me and you ruin any chance of that deal with him.” Kwan hesitates, eyes darkening as the words spill out of your mouth, “In fact, that was probably already off the table as soon as you had me physically harmed and dragged into a car here. So now, you should stop asking me about what Yoongi’s weaknesses are and start asking, what will Min Yoongi do if you call him and tell him who you kidnapped and tied to a fucking chair.”

Kwan narrows his eyes. You see him assessing the weight of your words. You fight the urge to leap at him and reach for the folding knife in his pocket. Just because you can’t see a gun doesn’t mean there’s not one, and just because you can’t see or hear anyone else in the building doesn’t mean they aren’t there.

Outside you can hear the cry of a seagull. When you breathe in, you smell ocean water and salt. Definitely keeping you in a building by the docks. You think you know the one. Kwan takes a few steps back from you and crosses his arms over his chest.

“You think he gives a shit if I have you?”

“You asked for Yoongi’s weakness. You’re looking at it.”

“I think you’re bullshiting me. I think you’re a whore he won’t deal for.”

“One way to find out, right?”

Instead of answering, Kwan turns on his heel and walks towards the opaque tarp. He walks through it and two men replace him at the entrance. Both of them are armed, staring down at you. Ignoring them, you roll your neck in slow circles, trying to ease the soreness.

Tentatively, you reach a hand up to your face, pressing your fingers into your cheek. You hiss, the pain still raw and present underneath your fingers. You can feel small scabs from where the gravel broke skin, but thankfully it doesn’t feel like your eyes are too swollen.

Time passes. You remain in the chair, fidgeting now that you’re awake. Your tongue is heavy in your dry mouth and your lips begin to burn from wetting them constantly, only to be dried out by the salty air. You feel itchy and irritable, trying not to squirm too much in the chair lest you disturb the guards.

Most of all, without having to put on a brave performance, you feel afraid. Afraid of being here by yourself in this warehouse, afraid that you’ve made a mistake trying to make yourself valuable, afraid that Kwan isn’t going to give you a chance to talk to Yoongi as proof of life.

You’re not versed in this part of Yoongi’s life. So much of his business has been held separate from you. The violence and the extortion and the sketchy deals have always been something he did outside of that room at the Red. You’re not afraid of this life, though. Just unprepared and trying to guess what to do next, fueled by poorly written crime movies and stories that Yoongi has told you in the warmth of your bed.

It feels like hours have gone by when Kwan comes back into the room. You sit up straight when you see the phone in his hand and see the fire in his eyes. He looks like a man who has had something go right - which means you have him right where you want him, if he’s doing what you think he is.

Kwan holds out the phone to you. “You have five minutes to talk to him as an act of good faith on my proposal.”

You see Yoongi’s name on the caller idea and try not to start crying. Swallowing thickly, you lick your lips again and bring the phone up to your ear. The tremble in your hand and your voice isn’t a performance when you say, “Hello?”

“Where are you? He hasn’t told me.”

“Yeah, I’m alive.” You sniff a little. “Agh, don’t make me cry. My face will get saltier than it already is.”

“I need more than that, Angel. He’s trying to make deals with me, but I need to know where you are to come get you. He won’t tell me where you’re at unless I wire over money and legally sign over assets.”

“No, he hasn’t hurt me. He’s been polite, though I’ve been kind of a beach- bitch. I’ve been a bitch. Sorry, I’m very tired.”

“Is it the building in the warehouse district at the docks? That apartment shell?”

“Yes, I can do that. Just… please agree to whatever he says, I feel tired and loaded. Bloated. Sorry, I’m confusing words again.”

“Yeah, well I’ve got fucking guns too. We’re going to come get you okay?”

This time when you sniff, you feel actual tears. Of relief that he understands your weird turns of phrase, of the terror at knowing he’s going to have to come get you. To risk his life for you. You knew he would, and yet you almost hate to ask him.

“Thank you.”

“You’ll be okay, Angel, but I need you to listen.”

“Okay.”

His voice is firm as he says, “I need you to do whatever it is you need to do to protect yourself. Don’t think twice about it. It is you or them, do you understand me? There is almost a certainty you are going to have to kill someone when we come get you. Start thinking about it now. Try to get used to it so that when the time comes, you’re not afraid anymore.”

“Okay. I love you.”

“See you soon.”

Yoongi likes to think that he is an expert in control. His compartmentalization is unmatched, and though he is incredibly proud, his pride is not easily wounded. Foolish slights and insults don’t rile him the way they might have in his youth, and physical threats of harm are amusing, especially when no very few people carry through on their threat.

When Yoongi hangs up the phone, he loses every ounce of control he’s ever felt. Never has his urge to destroy been so sharp. He sees red, slamming his hands across his desk and swiping everything off. He tastes metal in his mouth as he bites through his cheek, screaming as he hammers his fists on top of the desk hard enough that he thinks he might split the wood.

Hoseok and Seokjin hear the commotion, crashing into the office with Namjoon and Jungkook behind them, weapons drawn. Yoongi is shaking when he looks up at them, the phone screen cracked in his hand. He cannot stop shaking, the adrenaline coursing through his veins like a dose of heroin.

All of their voices sound like a mess of sounds. The ringing in his ears overpowers everything they’re saying as he stands there, hands at his side, mind racing and chest heaving as he pants. Why is he panting? Yoongi feels like he’s suddenly not getting enough air, dropping his phone to loosen the tie around his neck, trying to give himself more room to breathe. Why do his clothes feel so fucking tight?

Suddenly it’s like there isn’t enough air in the room. Yoongi feels the tunnel vision come up on him fast. Chills spread through his body as he wavers, hands held out as he tries to catch his breath. He feels hands on him trying to steady him, but he yanks away from them. They feel too close, too much in his space and he needs more room. Room to get this blazer off and breathe. Breathe, why can’t he breathe?

Yoongi stumbles into a wall. His vision pulses on the edges and he can vaguely make out Hoseok’s voice. He looks up at him and sees his friend, his advisor. Hoseok isn’t touching him, but his head is cocked as he tries to keep and maintain eye contact with Yoongi.

“Inhale for seven seconds,” Hoseok says. “Then exhale for seven. I’ll count.”

“What?” Yoongi demands.

“You’re having an anxiety attack.” Hoseok states it as if it’s the most common thing in the world. “You have to regulate your breathing or you’re going to pass out. If you pass out, we can’t help.”

It’s the only thing that gets him to listen. He counts with Hoseok, drawing in long breaths.

One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven.

Yoongi has to shake this. Has to get ready and call his people, needs to make plans to come get you. He knows exactly where you are - wants to fucking kiss you for how clever you mange to be even while terrified.

One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven.

He knows you’re afraid. Yoongi has never heard your voice tremble like that since he’s known you. He knows every tone of your voice, every color to the spectrum of your sounds, able to pick them apart to know how you feel. And while you spoke in a clear tone, it was all wrong. Colored with terror. Voice soft and rough and wavering.

One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven.

The ringing in his ears fade. Yoongi continues to take slow, deep breaths. His hands are still shaking and he feels a little light headed, but when he blinks a few times and looks around, he sees his closest men and confidants standing around him, waiting.

“Talk to us,” Hoseok urges. “What’s going on?”

“Kwan has my girl. They’re in that apartment project we froze in the docks.”

“He told you where they were?”

“No, she did.”

Hoseok looks weary. “That sounds like a trap - did he already offer you a deal?”

“He said several things. He didn’t tell me where they were, she did.”

“In front of-”

“Hoseok, stop asking stupid questions or I swear to fucking god I’ll hit you first. She’s not used to any of this, but she isn’t fucking stupid. She used the words salt, beach and loaded. They’re in that building and they’re armed.”

“Poetic,” Seokjin grunts. Yoongi cuts his gaze to his head of security and the man pales. “Sorry, bad timing.”

“Get every fucking person we know on the fucking ground and here. We’re going to get her.”

“They’ll see us coming from a mile away.”

Yoongi stares at Seokjin. “I don’t give a fuck. Kwan wanted to find a weakness, well he found one. And now I’m going to paint that shitty little development with his blood.”

An hour later is when it hits Yoongi. He stops in the middle of tying a shoe and he stands. He’s replaying the conversation with you over and over in his head, looking for any other details he could have missed. He was so fucking proud of you for getting your point across even while scared, but now it’s something else he thinks of.

I love you. He had almost not realized you said it at all at the end of the call. He can’t remember if he said it back, but he’s suddenly sick over the what if of it all. What if he doesn’t get to say it back? What if he gets there and swarms in, only to find you dead?

In a moment of panic, he texts Hoseok to request proof of life on the hour every hour from Kwan under the guise of considering his horrendous deal. Kwan, of course, thinks he’s got Yoongi. He doesn’t, naturally. They haven’t agreed on a time or place to meet, and Kwan does not seem to understand just how poorly he’s miscalculated.

None of it matters. All that matters is that Yoongi is going to come get you like he promised, and he is never letting you out of his sight again.

Surprisingly, your living conditions change a little upon Kwan learning that you’re more valuable kept alive and in decent condition than beat up or dead. He has a cot and a fan brought in, along with an ice back for your cheek and a thermos of water.

You crush the thermos almost immediately. Though you’re kept under armed guards now, you’re relieved to be able to lay down and stretch your sore limbs. When the ice pack finally grows hot and melts on your aching cheekbone, one of the guards gets you a new one without question.

It almost makes you feel bad for what is to come. Almost.

You know Yoongi. It’s why you gambled with a hostage play in the first place. He won’t let them have you and it doesn’t matter what Kwan offers him, Yoongi is far too powerful to accept deals from the likes of Kwan. It isn’t so much a matter of pride as it is a matter of power. You know Yoongi has the power to pull you out of this without further harm.

At least, you have put every ounce of trust and confidence in him that you have.

Time moves slowly. It’s hard to know how fast Yoongi will mobilize or what his plan is. It would make sense for him to perhaps cause a distraction elsewhere to get Kwan’s eyes off of you, but it’s also a dangerous game to play with a hostage.

It doesn’t matter. Yoongi has his job and you have yours, which is to work the screw out of one of the cots joints. You’ve picked one that isn’t imperative to the overall structure of the cot. It can bear your weight without the screw as long as you don’t lean on the joint too much. It takes you a while to unscrew it with your bare fingers, all while lying on your back trying to look uninterested in anything.

I need you to do whatever it is you need to do to protect yourself.

Finally, you pull the cool metal free. You slide it into the pocket of your sweatpants. The weight of it feels better than nothing. It won’t do much damage, but a well placed punch to the face with the screw between your knuckles will do what you need, even if you damage your hand to do it.

You’ve never killed someone. Thought about it a few times, maybe. Had some people try to sway you to slip something into a client’s drink, but you never accepted. Killing isn’t your business. It’s Yoongi’s, but you know that if he’s telling you to take the chance, it’s because he wants you to live.

The thought is chilling. You rest your hand on the pocket, feeling the shape of the screw. You don’t know how to kill. You’re not even entirely sure that you have it in you. You’ve seen people die and you’ve seen people murder. It seems easy.

You’re not sure if it’s that simple.

It’s late into the night when a commotion draws you from your half-slumber. You lift your head as someone comes in and mutters something to the guards. They nod and one of them leaves, the other turning to face you with a glare, hand resting just inside his jacket where you assume there’s a gun.

Outside, you hear the sound of peeling tires as a car takes off.

Nerves take over. You feel your heartbeat pickup as you continue to lay on the cot, one hand under your pillow. It’s hard to think of what might be happening over the sound of your own pulse, but you try to regulate your breathing. There’s nothing happening right that second that you can control, so there’s no reason to panic.

A few minutes go by. It’s agony, waiting with bated breath. It’s quiet outside except for the sounds of the ocean and the mostly empty warehouses and docks. Plastic snaps in the breeze, loud in the silence of your waiting. You think that this is the worst part, the anticipation for what’s to come. You can’t sleep now even if you tried.

When the first round of gunfire comes, you almost lose control of your bowels. It’s a shameful sort of fear that takes you by surprise, making you freeze up. You have been waiting for it, and yet now that you can hear the sound of automatic weapons somewhere below, it feels worse than you imagined.

Looking up at the guard at the door, you reel in surprise to see him rushing toward you. Time seems to slow down. The sound of guns and yelling fade to the background everything suddenly becomes hyper focused.

I need you to do whatever it is you need to do to protect yourself.

As the guard leans to pick you up, you strike like a snake, pulling the screw from your pocket and jabbing upward with a savage scream.

His guttural cry splits the night. You feel hot blood spray your hand and dot your face as you plunge the blunt screw into his eye socket. Blood makes your fingers slippery and as he falls onto his back, hands clutching his face, you lose your grip.

I need you to do whatever it is you need to do to protect yourself.

No hesitation. You dive for him, stained hands searching for the weapon. The metal of the gun slides in your slick fingers. Through the blinding pain, the guard realizes what you’re doing and grabs your forearms. You pull back against him but can’t shake his grip, your hand stuck in his jacket on the gun. You finger the trigger and squeeze, but it doesn’t budge. The fucking safety.

Sliding a knee down, you crush the cap of your knee between his legs, pressing his balls with your full weight. He screams and his grip goes slack. You yank on the gun, almost dropping it as it slides free from the holster. Your grip is clumsy and shaking, your heart pounding so hard you think you might die of fright before you manage to find the safety on the hammer and pull it back.

I need you to do whatever it is you need to do to protect yourself.

Click. Squeeze. Bang.

You don’t aim. Don’t have the sense to at that moment. This close, you don’t have to aim at all. You hit your target and his yelling turns to shrieks. You can’t tell where you’ve shot him, all you know is that you have. You scramble away, hands slipping on the floor, gun clutched clumsily in your hand.

A hand goes around your ankle and you scream as he drags you backward. You roll onto your back, bringing the gun up again, trying to aim in the general direction of his chest.

Squeeze. Bang.

It’s so loud. Your ears are ringing and you’re unable to hear anything as the grip on your ankle immediately goes slack. The guard goes limp, the fight leaving him immediately. You don’t look - can’t look. Can’t focus on anything but the way your vision tunnels.

Dizziness sweeps over you as you crawl away from him again. Your knees and palms might hurt if you could feel anything at all, but numbness starts to take over as you manage to press yourself against a wall near the doorway. You don’t dare move toward it, too untrained to handle a gun while terrified.

“Angel!” you hear Yoongi’s voice screaming somewhere in the building. You open your mouth but nothing comes out. Your lips tremble. You try to find your voice, willing the words to come. Mouth open, his name on the tip of your tongue, you can’t find a response. “Angel, come on, baby! Where are you?”

“Yoongi,” you whisper. It’s not nearly loud enough and your voice cracks on the name. You close your eyes and take a deep, shuddering breath as you muster strength behind your voice. “Yoongi!”

“That’s it, keep talking to me.”

It sounds like he is yelling somewhere down a stairwell, voice echoing up concrete walls. “Up!” You start to curl into yourself. “Yoongi, up!”

Steps thunder in the stairwell. You drop the gun next to you and look at your hands. They’re slick and wet. In a panic, you start wiping them on your sweatpants, smearing red as you do. You viciously wipe your hands. You want the blood off, you don’t want it all over you, it’s hot and stick and it’s not yours and it belongs to the dead man who was trying to take you-

Warm hands grab your face and tilt you upward. You blink through blurry tears. Yoongi looks back at you, his forehead sweaty and his slicked back hair a little messy. He turns your face from side to side as more of his men flood into the room, guns raised.

Yoongi’s mouth moves but you can’t hear him. You shake your head, looking up at him. His grip softens and the gentle brush of his thumb back and forth across your face eases the rising panic inside of you. You sniff, taking a few slow, trembling breaths.

“Are you seriously injured?” Yoongi asks again, voice rough. Cracking. “Do you need medical attention?”

“No.”

“The blood-” You shake your head violently, closing your eyes. “Okay. It’s okay. You did what you needed to do, Angel. I’m going to get you on your feet and take you home, okay?”

“I don’t-”

“My home. Not yours. You’re coming home.”

Yoongi doesn’t need to explain what he means. As he slowly pulls you to your feet, you know what he’s telling you. You’re going to his estate, because it’s yours too now. The agreement is unspoken but mutual. You don’t want to go back to your apartment. You don’t want to go back to the Red. Right now, all you want is to wash the blood from your hands and get away from this place.

Seokjin is at the door with a blanket. He wraps it around you as Yoongi keeps his hands around your waist, steadying you as you walk. You get down two levels of stairs before he tucks you into him and presses his lips against your temple.

“Close your eyes,” he murmurs, mouth moving against your skin. “I won’t let you trip.”

You do as you’re told. His steps are confident and careful as he leads you through the bottom floor. You hear the murmur of voices, the flapping of plastic tarp, and the humming engines of vehicles. Yoongi lifts you lightly and helps you get into the cool interior of a car that smells like leather.

When the door shuts, you flinch and open your eyes, staring straight forward. Yoongi is next to you, arm going around your shoulders as he pulls you into his side again. You realize for the first time as you glance at him that there’s blood on his face and in his hair. His knee bounces up and down, his hand resting against it, still gripping a gun with the safety off.

“Are we safe?” you whisper, staring at his gun.

“Yes.”

“Then why-”

“It makes me feel better,” he admits. “I just need to come down.”

“Okay.”

“Look at me.”

You do. His eyes are dark and though his mouth is pinched at the corners and the vein throbs in his forehead, his eyes are soft for you. “I love you,” he murmurs. “We’re safe.”

A week makes the pain in your cheekbone fade away. A week does not make the memory of squeezing the trigger fade. At night, the memory is worse. What your mind had been unable to remember at first comes back in full-clarity at night, gripping you in your sleep and dragging you down into an endless terror until Yoongi pries you from the clutches of your nightmares and wakes you.

It’s easier with him by your side, though. You’re at least able to fall asleep, if not stay asleep through the night. When he wakes you from screaming and thrashing in the sheets, you’re able to settle against him, his hold on you firm. Comforting.

Yoongi takes this in stride. He doesn’t complain, doesn’t lose his patience. He simply murmurs that he gets it and holds you, his skin warm and smelling like home.

Home.

The estate is a sprawling mass of elegance that stuns you each day. Beyond the opulence of the home and the luxury that it offers, what matters most is the security. The personnel at every entrance, the high gate with cameras and alarms, the three lurking dobermans that still terrify you when you see them standing in a dark hall at night or watching you in the kitchen when you get a glass of water after a nightmare.

Nox has come around to liking you, at least. She’s become your shadow in the house, which had made you a little unsure at first. Now, she trails you up the stairs and to the master bedroom. You’ve grown used to her - prefer it, even, when Yoongi is not home like right now.

Erebus and Khonsu are on the floor of the master bedroom. Both watch you as you enter, unbothered but aware. Where their younger sister has adopted you as an owner and a thing to protect, they still seem set on Yoongi only.

The three dogs remain in the bedroom as you end the bathroom. It makes you feel safe to know that even if someone managed to get through the gates, up the driveway, through the secured doors and the dozen people that Yoongi has stationed at the estate since your kidnapping, the dogs are another line of defense.

So is the gun under the bathroom cabinet and in the nightstand, but you don’t want to touch a gun ever again. Not if the nightmares it gives are like this.

Steam fills the room accompanied by the scent of eucalyptus. Carefully, you peel the clothes from your body and toss them into a corner. The stone shower is warm with heated floors and a digital panel both inside and outside for control of the fifteen different water settings. There’s even steam options, but you simply turn on the rain feature, slipping under the dripping ceiling.

The hot, wet taps of the water lull you into a trance. You stand with your head tilted down, letting the rivulets of water run the full length of your body.

“Angel, I’m home,” Yoongi calls from the bedroom. You smile, appreciating that he announces his presence instead of sneaking up on you. He’s always careful to make noise when he enters rooms now and announces his arrival. “You just get in?”

“Yeah,” you call back. “Join me?”

“Give me five.”

When he finally enters the bathroom, you turn around to look at him. He’s already pulling the tie around his neck loose, dropping it to the ground. You catch sight of the red across his knuckles. Though he is free of blood - an effort on his part now to bring it home to you - you notice the days where he comes home and his knuckles are split or bruised, hands aching.

Watching Yoongi undress captures your full attention. His movements are slow and methodical. His back is to you, shirt dripping off his broad shoulders to join the tie on the floor. He looks up in the mirror and pauses, dark eyes catching yours. You raise a brow and gesture for him to continue. When he does, it’s with his tongue poking his cheek and a smirk.

Knowing that you’re watching, Yoongi turns it into an art. His fingers trace the top of his slacks before he slowly undoes the belt, pulling it with a satisfying hiss through the loops before holding it out to the side and letting it clatter to the floor. Your eyes are zeroed in on his reflection in the mirror as he works the button open, peeling the top of his pants apart to reveal the logo of his briefs.

Yoongi pauses. Your eyes dart up to his in the mirror to find him watching you, eyes dark. The scar looks menacing today. You squeeze your thighs together, chewing on your bottom lip. He notices, smirk growing as he rolls the slacks down his thighs and kicks them aside. You see the imprint of his half-hard cock in his briefs, your attention on him alone enough to get his blood pumping.

You’ll never get over having that effect on him. Knowing that even after the nightmares and becoming an inconvenience - in your eyes, at least - the chemistry between you isn’t gone. It’s still there, a burning candle.

Slowly, Yoongi peels off his briefs. His heavy cock bobs as he steps out of them and you feel your pussy clench around nothing, just thinking about him stretching you open. He says nothing about the small bead of precum at the tip as he turns and walks over to the shower.

He’s built beautifully. Broad shoulders with a slim, tapered waist. Strong arms and large hands, firm chest and soft but muscular stomach. Yoongi is the perfect blend of pretty and rugged, a combination that you didn’t know existed until him.

When he steps into the shower, you step further into the water, making room for him. He shuts the door and frowns at the distance between you, holding out his hand. You take it immediately and he pulls you forward, careful not to let you slip on the tile.

He doesn’t waste a moment. Yoongi’s mouth captures yours, wet from the shower water as he sucks your bottom lip between his teeth, nipping lightly. You hum, bringing your arms to loop around his neck, fingers combing through his wet hair. His cock presses against your lower stomach, and you shiver.

Yoongi’s kisses are addicting. Slow, like he has all the time in the world, but hungry, like he can’t get enough. His tongue brushes the roof of your mouth, his teeth pulling at your lip again when he pulls his mouth away to press open-mouthed kisses on your jaw.

Tilting your head back, you let him pepper kisses along your throat. You close your eyes, letting him hold you to him. The room tilts as you sway in his arms, the feeling of him licking the hollow of your throat entrancing. It’s so simple yet it feels so good.

One arm loops around your waist to keep you pressed to Yoongi, his other slides up your wet skin to cup your breast. You let out a breathy moan when you feel his thumb circle your stiff nipple, the stimulation so bare but so good.

Yoongi keeps you cradled against him, mouth working your neck and shoulder and back up to your mouth while his thumb lazily plays with your nipple. You're pliant in his arms, letting him do whatever he wants with you.

His mouth starts to descend and when he finally takes your nipple into his mouth, you can’t stop the whine that escapes you. He hums as he sucks gently, tongue flicking back and forth over the peak. You can’t help but twitch in his arms, a ripple of pleasure sliding through you.

Heat pulses between your legs and you feel the slick gathering in your folds. Your legs squeeze together again as Yoongi drags his teeth over your sensitive nipple before letting go and switching to the other. This time, he looks up at you through dark, wet lashes, sticking out his devilish tongue as he uses the tip to trace your skin.

“Show off,” you mutter, voice shaking.

He laughs and runs the flat of his tongue over your nipple before giving a sharp suck that has you arching into him. “You love having your tits in my mouth,” he shoots back. He bites the top of your breast softly, teeth scraping your soft skin. “Don’t deny it.”

“I plead the fifth.”

“Hmmm.”

“You don’t have to say anything,” he teases. The hand around your back slides down to your ass. He grabs a handful, squeezing generously. “Can you turn around for me? Legs spread so I can see that pretty pussy.”

“Fuck.”

He drops his arms so you can turn around. You press your palms against the wall, shivering as the cold tile leeches the warmth from you. The temperature difference makes the room tilt. You slide your legs apart and stick your ass out toward him, lifting a little.

“Fuck yeah.”

You can’t see him, but you feel him as he slides down to his knees. His palms grip your ass, spreading your cheeks open. You close your eyes and let your head hang between your arms when it feels too heavy to hold up yourself.

“Just want a quick taste,” Yoongi mutters.

“Shiiiit,” you hiss, feeling his tongue dance up and down your cunt. He licks you in broad, slow stripes before he puts his entire mouth on you and sucks sharply. “Just like that.”

“Fuck.” The smack of his lips against your wet heat are bracketed by the slick sound of him stroking his cock, the filthy sounds echoing in the shower. “I could eat you out every day.”

“You do.”

“Fine.” His tongue zigzags back and forth, reaching to swirl around your click. He kisses your cunt and stands up. “I’ll make it twice a day, then.”

The blunt head of his cock slides between your folds. You press back toward him, eager to have him push in and split you open. He tuts at you, giving you a gentle smack on your ass. “Eager.”

“I’ve been waiting all fucking day for it, Yoongi. Give it to me.”

“Mmm.”

The feeling of Yoongi sinking his cock into you slowly drives you mad. You feel like you can’t breathe, every inch of his thick length stretching your walls to the max. It feels like he’s in your guts when he bottoms out, the pressure immense and good and dizzying.

He starts slow, giving a few shallow thrusts as you adjust to be pried open. You relax around him, falling into the pleasure as he begins to fuck you in earnest. Hands on your waist, he pulls your ass backwards, meeting every one of his strokes in a loud, wet smack of hips on ass.

A shiver ripples down your spine and you moan when he adjusts the angle, prodding your g-spot. “Yeah?” he asks through gritted teeth. “That the spot?”

“Yes, please fuck me just like that.”

Nothing else exists beyond this. The steam makes your skin even hotter, cloying the air and making it hard to breathe. It makes everything fuzzy, like you’re drifting in and out of reality, pleasure unfolding in you as you squeeze around his cock.

Each snap of his hips is punctuated with stilted breath. You’re gasping, thighs burning as you take every inch of him, fingers curling against the wall, eyes rolling back as you fall into a mute space. You make sound but no words come out, the pressure against that spot inside of you driving you mad.

Yoongi slides a hand from your waist over the curve of your ass and between your cheeks, thumb pressing gently on the rim of your ass. You let out a loud moan, fingers trying to grab the wall to no avail. The new stimulation feels delicious, Yoongi’s thumb pressing against your asshole in time with his strokes. He doesn’t push past the ring of muscles, but it doesn’t matter - it’s enough to send you careening closer to your orgasm, toeing the line of insanity.

“Fuck, Angel,” he pants, fucking into you harder. “Just like that, make it fucking creamy. You gonna come?”

“Fuuuuck yeah.”

His thumb presses harder against your rim. “Come on, give it to me.”

“Shit shit shit shit.”

You lose the ability to say anything. Your body folds forward, only held up by Yoongi and the press of the freezing cold wall as he fucks you with precision. It sends you over the edge, your knees knocking as you come, fists pressing into the wall as you yell through it.

The sound of the shower is drowned out by your babbling. Yoongi thrusts hard a few more times, hand slipping away from your ass to grip your waist hard, chasing his high. He comes with a loud curse, fingers digging into your skin.

For a moment, he leans into you, pressing his cock as far in as he can go. Your pussy throbs around him, every pulse ebbing around him. He presses kisses up your spine, hands sliding up your ribs to pull you upright until your back is against his chest.

“Fuck,” he pants, voice rough. “I’m so glad you’re mine.”

“I’ve always been yours.”

“I mean entirely. Without sharing.”

You pause, looking up at him with a frown. “You know I haven’t been… taking clients for two years, right?”

He pauses. “What?”

“You stupid boy,” you laugh, laying your head against his shoulder. “Of course I wasn’t. I just wanted you.”

“Then why stay there?”

You shrug a shoulder, letting your eyes fall closed. The warmth of the orgasm blooms through you, Yoongi’s skin hot against your back and the shower hotter still. “It was a place I knew you’d be safe when you visited. And I didn’t want to ask you for more. Everyone always wants more from you. I just wanted you.”

“All that time, I could have just… asked you to come home?”

“Yes. But it’s okay. I’m home now.”

He kisses your neck. “You are home, Angel.”

#yoongi smut #suga smut #min yoongi smut #bts smut #yoongi fic #yoongi fanfic #suga fic #suga fanfic #bts fanfic #bts fic #yoongi x you #yoongi x reader #mafia yoongi #mafia bts #minors dni #minors do not interact #halis happy agust

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avianyuh · 3 months ago

Text

Boring | Min Yoongi

Summary: For almost a year, you've worked for Min Yoongi's company. He gave off the impression of a cold businessman. No one ever saw him smile, laugh or discuss anything other than work. Everyone seemed to think he was a boring guy, who was too consumed with work. You'd assumed there was more to him, and often fantasized about him, but as far as you knew, he wasn't even aware of your existence. You didn't think he noticed you at all in meetings, or when he walked past your cublicle, but maybe you just weren't paying enough attention?

Word Count: 2.9k

chapters [1] ?

The worst thing about meetings is when they are scheduled at inconvenient times of the day. Like this you were currently sitting in. It was 3pm on the dot, on a Wednesday. Two more days left in the work week until you could sleep in until 11am. Two more dreary days of fake smiling at all of the coworkers you secretly couldn’t stand. Two more pathetic days of hearing the mindless office chit chat that you tried so hard to tune out. But one thing you would actually miss as you’d lay in bed until noon on Saturday was the sight standing right in front of you, giving the most boring presentation. Min Yoongi. Your boss, your superior, and your secret crush. Yes, it sounds like grade school to say you had a secret crush on him, but it’s the truth. You hadn’t mentioned it to your friends and definitely not the two women you were friendly acquaintances with at the office. It was an innocent infatuation. You couldn’t help yourself. He looked so attractive when he was dressed in his office attire. You had never seen a man look as good in a suit as Min Yoongi did. And when you happened to catch him adjusting his tie or recuffing his sleeves, it sort of sent you ‘over the edge’ and would become the highlight of the day. You loved to stare at him when he walked down the aisle past your cubicle. You held your breath if you were standing next to him in the elevator on the way up or down. And you fantasized about him while you sat through his boring presentations. You couldn’t fathom why a man so attractive could be perceived as so monotone and frankly, boring. You would see him walk around the office and interact with the other employees, but he always kept a straight face. Even when some of his clients would try to crack some jokes with him…nothing. You wondered why he kept so many walls up, well if that was even the case. Maybe he wasn’t guarded, maybe there simply wasn’t anything interesting about him? And that’s why you were more than okay with keeping your little crush a fantasy. You knew that you would probably be incompatible considering he seemed to have no soul. And honestly, you did like to tell a few jokes. You looked up from your notepad and stared at him, just as everyone else in the room was doing. Though you were basically invisible at this company, you still had to pretend like you were paying attention every once in a while.

“By tomorrow morning I need that file on my desk. It’s crucial that everything’s done and ready to go for the Smith account. Who was in charge of that?”, as the twelve other people in the room all turned their heads to look at me, I suddenly felt nauseous as my stomach started to twist into knots. As I darted my eyes from my coworkers, they landed on Yoongi, who was staring at me expectantly, waiting for his file. I cleared my throat and shuffled through my papers, pulling the manilla file out from under my notepad. I stood up from my chair as I walked over to him. His eyes followed me the whole time.

“Here it is Mr. Min.”, I said as I handed him the file. Your fingers briefly touched and you noticed just how calloused they were. You wondered why that was. He nodded at you and murmured a short Thank You, before he moved on to the next subject and you scurried back to your seat. By the time the meeting was over, I was back at my desk and watching the clock. 4:30. Only a half an hour left. You had finished all of your assignments and was just fiddling with the pencil in your hand when your office phone started ringing. “Hello?”, you answered, annoyed and wondering what could possibly be so important to warrant a call 30 minutes before you could leave.

“Mr. Min would like to see you in his office.”, the woman said before hanging up immediately. Shit, I thought. What could I have possibly done? He’s never wanted to see me in his office except for that one time when he gave a speech to everyone after we secured that big client. You had remembered to take note of his office since at the time you assumed it would be the only time you’d see it. He had photos lining his desk. Him at different sports games. Mainly basketball games. Pictures of him posing next to players, a picture of him on a boat, and a picture of a family. It looked like an older photo, so you assumed it was a childhood photo of his. But that’s all you could remember at the time since that night you had been knocking back quite a few drinks with your colleagues in celebration of the pay raise. But now here you were, approaching his secretary’s desk. “Y/N? Let me notify him before I send you in.”, His secretary looked down at the phone before pressing the button to ring him. “Mr.Min…yes, she’s here. Okay, I’ll send her in.”, She glanced back up at you, “You can go in.”, she said blankly before staring back at her computer screen, you gave her a quick nod as you walked past her desk. You could hear the frantic sound of her typing on her keyboard. You knocked on the door once before peaking your head in.

“Mr.Min? You wanted to see me.”, your voice was timid. Mainly due to the fact you were wrecked with nerves on the inside. You had been raking your brain on the walk down to his office on why you’d been called in. Maybe you were getting fired? But, on the same day you have that interaction with him during the meeting? It was the first time you had properly spoken to him.

“Ah, yes, Y/N. Please close the door behind you and take a seat.”, there it was again, that emotionless, monotone voice. It made it one hundred times harder for you to gauge what this conversation would be about. Was he angry? Was he calm? You had no idea. His face was stone cold. You really never saw him smile. And not to mention, his office was so dark, the blinds were almost completely drawn shut and now the door was closed. You found it concerning that he wanted the door closed. Last time someone went into his office and closed the door, they were walking out an hour later with two boxes filled with their belongings. You started to fidget with your fingers as you took a seat. You took a deep breath in as you watched him pull his hands out of his pockets and move from his standing position against his window and take a seat in his own chair across from you. “First of all”, he started, “You don’t have to worry, you’re not being fired, so you don’t have to play with your fingers.”, Immediately you placed your hands at your sides.

“Oh, um, didn’t realize anybody would pick up on that habit…”, you said, shocked at how observant he seemed to be.

“Well, I’ve seen you around the office and in my meetings for almost a year, and you do it at least one meeting per week.”, he shrugged before looking down at his desk and opening one of his filing cabinet drawers underneath. He pulled out a folder, specifically the manilla folder you had just given him during the meeting. He handed it over to you, and you furrowed your brows in response as you took it. “I skimmed through it, everything seemed fine. Problem is, I just got a call from Smith himself, and it turns out, his assistant faxed over all the wrong information. He’s still coming in tomorrow and expects the folder to be ready to go.”

You couldn’t believe what you were hearing, you assumed he was about to ask you to stay late and re-do everything, just because someone else made a mistake? Unbelievable. Before he could continue speaking, you intervened, “So what? Now I have to re-do everything? Do you understand that all that work in this folder took me a whole week. Rome wasn’t built in a day Sir.”, you snapped. Yoongi raised an eyebrow at you, leaning back in his chair and folding his arms across his chest, seemingly challenging your opposition.

“So you’re telling me that you refuse to do it? I understand it’s asking a lot, but you would be paid for any overtime. I can’t force you but if you don’t stay, don’t expect any big projects in the near future. Maybe Jerry at the cubicle across from you would like your next project?” You narrowed your eyes at him in a silent attempt to say, screw you.

“Sir, all I’m saying is that I sort of feel like this was sprung on me a half an hour before work ends, and you’re telling me I have to do a week's worth of work on my own in one night. I just don’t see how that’s fair.”, you explained, trying to keep your voice from getting too loud. One wrong move or word and he could fire you on the spot for 'disrespect'.

“So you’re concerned about working alone? Fine, I’ll stay and work on it with you.” Yoongi said as he looked down at his wristwatch, most likely mentally rearranging his afterwork schedule.

“Seriously?”, you asked, surprised that he would even offer to stay and work on the file with you at all. He looked back up at you, nodding his head, looking you dead in the eyes.

“Yeah, get your computer, you can set it up in here. We have a lot to get through.” And boy, was he right. The next thing you knew, you were two hours deep into paperwork, calling as many people as you could reach to fact check considering the fact most people had left their offices for the day. By 7pm, you were getting a little irritated as you weren’t making much progress with the file. And not to mention the fact that you were getting hungry. You ran a hand through your hair as you let out a frustrated sigh, throwing down your pen on your notepad. Yoongi looked up from his computer screen, his head resting on his hand, and he had his left arm resting on his desk. You could tell that even he was getting frustrated, and that in turn made you angry. And before you could stop yourself, you exploded.

“So, how exactly do you do business around here? You’re telling me that the whole week there was no communication with the other party until half an hour before closing today, the day before they were expected to come in for a meeting?”, he rolled his eyes at you as covered his face with his hand in frustration.

“You think I did this on purpose? You don’t think I also want to go home?” , he snapped. Now you were rolling your eyes at him, you felt like this whole file was never going to get done and your efforts were pointless.

“Can we at least order some food?”, you murmured. To that, you actually heard him let out a chortle as he reached into his drawer for a few takeout menus. It wasn’t necessarily a full on laugh, but it let you know that he did have a sense of humor. You couldn’t hide your surprise and Yoongi seemed to notice.

“What? Are you surprised that I eat food…”, he questioned as he handed you the menus, “Pick one, I don’t really have a preference. They’re all good.”, you grabbed them, again briefly brushing your fingers against his own like earlier in the meeting room. You decided on Chinese and another half hour later, after Yoongi went to collect the food from the delivery man, you were both sitting on the couch in his office, just silently eating. At first you assumed it’d be awkward, just sitting there, but it was actually kind of nice since it gave you a chance to get your mind off of the file and your impending deadline. But then, Yoongi cleared his throat as he put down his food. “Can I ask you a question?” You were intrigued to see what his version of small talk was, so you immediately replied with a Hm. “Do you find me boring during the staff meetings?”, he let out a chuckle as he asked.

“What!”, you giggled. You were surprised at his question, you never assumed that he would ask something like that. “How would you be able to tell?”, you were surprised at his change in attitude. An hour ago, he was so frustrated and now he’s…trying to be funny? He smiled at you before he started explaining.

“Everytime I look over at you, you’re either playing with your pen, or doing that finger fidget thing. I mean, I get it, it’s boring material we’re going over, but c’mon, everything I talk about is boring?”, he asked, still smiling which signaled to you that this was all just lighthearted banter.

“Well, I mean, you have to admit, spreadsheets and deadlines aren't the most interesting stuff to discuss after the first 10 minutes of the meeting. I just think the meetings don’t have to be over an hour each, that’s all.”, you threw your hands up defensively, returning his smile. He shook his head playfully.

“You do great work here, but every time I walk past your cubicle, you have the most miserable look on your face. “, he smirked, replaying the times he’s walk past your cubicle in his head.

“That is not true!”, you responded back teasingly, “I put in 100% But, it’s not my fault that I have resting bitch face…Also I highly doubt every time you’ve walked past my cubicle I look like that.” He raised his eyebrow, still smirking.

“Yeah, you’re right. The other half of the time I see you, you're always staring at me.” Upon hearing that, you covered your face with your hands and Yoongi started laughing at your reaction.

“Stop”, you pleaded, fully embarrassed now. You had no idea he caught on to that, you always thought you were being discreet. But to be fair, you had no idea he knew you even existed. He never seemed to concern himself with you until today. You had even interviewed with him when you got the job, it was with a supervisor. “I had no idea you even knew of me. I just assumed I was another faceless office worker or something. I mean, you’re always so busy and you keep to yourself…”, you tried to cover your tracks, but you were doing a really bad job of it. “That’s not true at all”, Yoongi said, giving his tone a serious edge. If I saw any of the people I employ out on the street, I would recognize them.” “But would you go up and talk to them?”, you questioned, bringing back your teasing tone. When he didn’t respond, you laughed and he let out a dramatic sigh. “What, are you shy or something?”, you asked.

“I wouldn’t say I’m shy, but I’m a bit quiet, but I think you already know that. I guess you could call me an introvert.”, Yoongi said sincerely. You nodded in agreement.

“Yeah, I’m the same way. I prefer my alone time. No wonder we were so bothered at having to stay so late.”, you joked. Yoongi agreed with you as picked the remainder of his food. You looked down at your container and did the same for a few minutes, assuming you were almost done with your conversation. At least now you felt more comfortable around him. And it was reassuring to know that he did in fact have a personality. A sort of perplexing one at that. Before you had the chance to stand up to throw away your containers, he started speaking again.

“You know, I’ve had my eyes on you for a while Y/N. I just never had a reason to talk to you, but I’ll admit, when Smith called, despite how pissed I was about the mix up, when I saw your name on the file, I was looking forward to this.” And with that, those familiar nervous knots in your stomach returned. You really wanted to tell him that you had also been interested in him, that you also despite your frustration, working with him all night had softened the blow of missing your after work routine for once. But you decided to play it safe, after all, he is your boss.

“Well, I don’t regret staying to work on this with you.”, you responded back. Your eyes met, and you stared at each other for what felt like an eternity. No one made a sound, and you weren’t sure of what to do. You studied his features. He had the most kissable lips, but you knew that would be a bad decision. One that you’d probably regret. His eyes seemed sad, and you weren’t sure of why you got that impression. You wondered if it was something you had said, but now that you were thinking about it, you always thought his eyes seemed like that. He was a mystery to you, one that you never thought you’d get the chance to uncover, but now, the window was slightly ajar into the man that is Min Yoongi and now you were really curious.

[A/N: So I guess my way of supporting Yoongi through this stupid scooter fiasco is writing a fanfic…Anyways, this is loosely based on a fanfic from years ago I had read on tumblr that I always went back to reread, until last week I noticed the story along with the account was deleted and deactivated :( To make matters worse, the story had never been finished, so in a way I never got to read how the story ended. So to make my teenage self happy, I’m making my own CEO Yoongi fanfic because I have to let my inner Yoongi freak fly. I anticipate that this will be a series, but I’m writing this author’s note before I even started writing the actual story so, we’ll see.]

#bts #min yoongi #suga #suga fanfic #yoongi x reader #suga x reader #bts fanfction #bts fanfic #bts scenarios #bts writing #bts imagines #bts x reader

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yuyu1024 · 10 months ago

Text

Escape

Pairings: Yoongi × y/n

Genre/tags: Arranged marriage

Warning: 🔞🔞 smut/angst, mention of food/eating, cursing, sensual touching, making out, needy/clingy, Pet name, lies, kink, unprotected sex, Smoking, jealousy, insecurity, mention of weight&food/eating, oral (m/f receiving), mention of blood/violence

~~~~[lmk if i miss anything]

Words: 5.8k

Disclaimer:

- this story is just made up

- english is not my first language, please be nice 😊

Note: continuation of Prisoner.

I hope this is a good part 2. 🙏🏻 took me a while coz idk if i should or not. 😅 sorry guys.

(This may continue a bit more...? But please be patient 🙏🏻 as I do have work & usually I try to write before i sleep but lately i've beeen so tired and drained that I cant even function 😅)

***

Another day, another event to go to. You are wearing your best 'pretend' smile. The smile you have practiced for months, to be your default expression whenever you meet anyone in any formal event. It's not that your trying to be fake. You just want to represent your husband the best that you can. And being a shy person, this is what you can do to help yourself.

Although, you wish, that even just one time, Yoongi would show up to these events with you.

At the first month of your marriage, he did. He did that to introduce you to everybody. You could still remember how you two were holding hands and always together. Those were the days when you have spent so much time with him.

But... Now, it's just always you. Alone. Amongst everyone in the whole place, you are the only one who always arrives with no partner.

"Excuse me?"

You twirl around and find the prettiest girl you think you have ever seen in your life. She looks like a goddess.

"Ahm, yes?" Your voice sounded so weak. You haven't said a word in the last hour.

"You are the only one wearing a corsage with a hint of lilac flowers in it... I'm guessing... you are Yoongi's wife?" She asks

"Ah, yes. I am." You look down at the flower pinned on your chest

She's smiling at you. She looks sort of happy to see you. "Finally... I've met you."

You haven't said a word. You are not sure how to approach this. You have no idea who she is and why is she approaching you. Plus, You are sort of intimidated by her. She is a beautiful, a sophisticated woman. She have this energy from her that says she is different than anyone else. You could feel your difference with her. Though you are covered with all highend brands of clothing and accessories. You can still see it.

"Oh, sorry... if I'm invading your personal time..." she says, "I am a friend of Yoongi... well... an old friend... from University" she explains. "Sarang."

"Oh." You smile and bow. "Hello, nice to meet you. I'm Y/N... I'm sorry... I've not met any of his friends yet so...I didn't know..."

"It's fine. I understand."

She looks like she came from a regal family, the same level as Yoongi. Also, her beauty.... takes your breathe away. She remind you of how you reacted the first time you saw Yoongi. In awe.

"Thank you for coming here also..." she says as she walks you around the gallery. "I hope you find something to your liking here that... would be a part of your home or either a gift to anyone you love."

As you two talk more, you learned that she's the one that threw this charity event. She gathered all these arts from known artists, to auction. She says that 100% of the earnings from it will go to the children's hospital that she have been donating ever since.

You have just met her and you are already at amazed by her. Not by just her prominent looks but also the way she talks and speaks her mind is very inspiring and uplifting. Because of her words you find it easy buying two items in the collection. You know all of the money will go and be used for something good.

You chose the items, the two that caught your attention the moment you entered the gallery. Both are paintings of a beautiful flowerfield which reminds you of your past. The field where you would always go with your friends and have picnic during summer break.

Such beautiful memory that you wish you could've not taken for granted. You wish you could re-live those moments again. And the paintings, those paintings you chose might go well in your own study room.

"It's nice meeting you..." she says, cutting you from reminiscencing your past

"Thank you too for inviting us.. though... my husband couldn't come..."

She smiles, lips pressed together. "He hasn't changed at all. Not very social and just focused on just working..."

Hmm.. The way she talks, the way she describes your husband is very detailed. She seem to know him pretty well. 'They are friends' you say to yourself but then at the back of your mind, a thought, just a tiny thought about him and her, is peaking through.

'Is she an ex of his?'

'If not an ex... probably... someone who liked him?'

I know, this is no place nor time to think about these but you can't help it.

Look at her and then you look at yourself. You two are totally opposites. From status to looks. And probably from personaly to intelligence. She is more than you. She is perfect. You think that he and Yoongi might or will get along more than you and him.

"Ahm... I ahm..." you start to feel uncomfortable with all of your self pity thoughts. You need to get a hold of yourself. "Sorry... I'll... I'll just go to the bar and have some drink..." you say as you clutch on to your dress.

"Oh. Okay." Sarang says. "You want me to accompany you...?"

You shake your head, "No... thank you... don't mind me... please go ahead and tour the rest of the guest." You say pointing at the newly arrived guests.

You turn around immediately before she could response again.

This is weird. You're not sure why you suddenly have the urge to drink. Even though you don't drink. Also because, you can't. Literally, can't.

You only drink red wine when you are offered to drink, by Yoongi of course. It's only when he asks you to join him during nights when he needs company or if you two are to discuss things about the family.

You don't drink also because you are a lightweight. You get tipsy and red easily. One time when you had more than three glasses of red with your husband, you instantly changed personality. You have no idea how and what changed besides the stories that your maid said the day after which were embarassing.

You have no recollection of anything besides the fact that you were on the sofa, inside Yoongi's home office, butt naked and only have Yoongi's blazer on you.

"Mrs. Min, what can I get you?" The cute guy behind the bar asks as you reach your destination.

"How... do you know who I am?"

He smiles, "We had the lists of the guests coming tonight... with photos." He pours water into a glass

"With details...? who can and cannot drink... I suppose?"

He nods. "Your husband noted... to not serve any alcohol to you Miss."

"Even... I want to? Or... pay?"

"I'm sorry Miss..." he says, "If you like we can offer you our non-alcohol champagne?"

You sigh heavily. You badly want to drink. Even just one glass to calm yourself. But...you can't. Yoongi have rules and you cannot avoid and disobey them.

He does give you the freedom to do whatever you want but when it comes to what not to do or what he likes, he have a handful.

1. Don't cut your hair short

2. Don't drink when he's not present nor ordered by him

3. Don't leave the house without atleast one body guard

4. Don't wear perfume (he gets dizzy)

5. Use the safeword during sex

And etc.

The rules are quite simple. Nothing to weird nor to hard to follow. It's just you compromising. And also, you do have a hard time saying no to Him.

"Thanks." You mumble, sighing as you take the glass of water and walk away from the bar.

After figuring out you can't drink to calm yourself, you decide to just go somewhere outside, away from the crowd and peaceful to get fresh air. Lucky you, you found an exit that leads you to the garden.

As time have gone by, you're not sure how long have you been there, staring at the fountain, the flowers and even starring down at your feet every now and then. You thought being out here will leave your head empty. Not worrying about anything. But then you'd catch yourself pouting and comparing yourself to all the ladies you have seen in the event, especially the last person you have talked to.

Your self pity and low self-esteem is thriving today than usual. Is it the lack of sleep? Or because of the one guy from earlier giving you a judging look that made you regret wearing the dress you picked? What happened?

These thoughts are not very helpful. Especially lately, well probably more on daily basis, you do wonder why Yoongi chose you. To marry.

They've said, more particularly his parents said, that he didn't like the ones they suggested for him; so he decided to pick you. To marry you instead of those women who is on the same level as him or close to his family's wealth.

Odd isn't it? Why would someone like him, an elite bachelor, pick a girl from a lower class family to marry? What did he see in you? What made him randomly pick you? You are not special, inexperience about life and not alluring as the other girls in his world. What did he saw? How did he even saw you? You were sure you two never met before. So did he hire someone to find a daughter from a poor family or what?

Instead of clearing your mind, you suddenly had these outburst of questions.

"What are you doing here?"

Your eyes widens after hearing a familiar voice. You didn't dare to speak. You just slowly turn your upper body around to see him, walking slowly towards you.

He's wearing a tuxedo. His hair is slightly slicked back and his scar. His beautiful scar. It's him.

You can't believe what you are seeing. He's really here. Why? He's been away for a week because of work and when did he came back?

"Y-yoongi..." you mumble, standing up

"I asked you..." he says as he stands right in front of you. Then you see his eyes darts down at your glass of water, sitting beside you. "Your bodyguard said... you asked for a drink." He looks back at you, his expression is so serious.

"I ahm... sorry..." you lower your gaze.

"You know... you can't drink."

"I'm sorry..." you whisper softly

"Let her have fun." A woman's voice says. "She just wants to have a glass of wine. It won't hurt."

Slowly raising your eyes, you see her, Sarang, standing from afar from you and Yoongi.

Her stance at this moment is unidentical to her persona earlier. It feels like she is a completely different person, though her appearance is the same. Something shifted.

"She did an amazing job.. representing you earlier." She adds

Your eyes then goes to Yoongi. You want to see his reaction to the angelic woman speaking. You are curious. No one talks to him directly like that, blunt and straight forward, even you.

Sarang is brave to talk casually to him.

"Ready the car..." Yoongi finally speaks after a monent of silence. Ordering one of his men to move.

That was it?

"I'll return the items. Keep the money. I don't care." He says while he's looking at you, straight into your eyes. Though you know, even his eyes are on you, he's not actually speaking to you.

"Yoongi le---" she tries to speak again but he didn't allowed it.

Yoongi just slightly turned his head to give her a side eye. He is not pleased. "My wife and I are leaving..." and then takes your hand to hold onto. "Let's go home..." he says that only you can hear.

"Ahm...ahh... okay." You say, lost by the sudden fierceness from him

***

"Get in." He orders you

Carefully climbing in the car, you move to the other side making sure there is a space betweem you two.

"Home please." Yoongi says to his driver as he shuts the door.

"Sir." The man answers, nodding and then pushes a button that closes the opening between the driver to the passenger seat of the car.

We are now isolated.

He looks so tired. Looks like he just came back and went straight to event to pick you up.

"I have my driver with me... you could've rested at home." You say

He sighs and closes his eyes. "I'm fine."

Did he purposely pick you up because he wants to see you? Did he missed you while he was away for a week?

Your mind is filled with questions and curiosity but you cannot dream of these questions to be real. You have to remember, he just married you because he have no other choice. There is no love in between you two. You are married by paper only that is worth a lot of money. Everything you are doing for him is to repay all of his kindness to you and your family.

This is all just a fantasy. A beautiful fantasy.

"Come closer..." he softly says. His eyes are still shut but his arm is arching, gesturing for me to take place in then. "Y/n..." he opens his eyes, calling my name. You scoot over his side. He immediately puts his arm around you, making sure you are close. "You're shaking..." he utters as he goes back to closing his eyes, resting his head back. "You're almost naked with that dress of yours..."

"Sorry..." you say looking down at your knotted fingers. "I thought it will look good....that's why I wore it."

He sighs. "You do look good..." then he shifts in his position and makes sure you're looking back at him. Then he starts leans in, to kiss you.

"Wait..."

He pauses, confused by your reaction. You have never denied his kiss before.

"I'm sorry..."

"What for?" He asks

"Well..." you look to the front, where the driver is. "Do we just kiss or..." you whisper

Yoongi didn't expect your question which made him smile. "It depends." He is looking straight into your eyes, your face are just inches away.

"He might hear us..." you whisper

"I don't fucking care." He moves forward and finally catches your lips.

***

After travelling for almost half an hour, you finally reach home.

"Welcome home, Miss..." The maid greets the second you slide out of the car. she then sees Yoongi, coming out from the other side of the car. "Master!" She bows again. "Welcome..."

They are suprised to see him. They didn't expect him to arrive with you. Looks like none of them knew he went to pick you up.

"Do we have anything to eat?" You softly ask the maid, then you realized that it's already late and that they have to rest too. "Oh... Sorry... never mind... you may go and rest." You give her a faint smile.

Then slowly walking towards the elevator, you could see your husband's reflection through the glass doors. He is busy already with his phone.

"Y/n..."

You glance up, peaking through the reflection. He is walking towards you. So you wirl around and waited for him to stand in front of you.

"Ask your assistant to remove all charities or event under the Lee's tomorrow. Even parties." He says as he undo his bow tie. "And... to not accept any invitation from them...again"

"Why?"

He didn't answer. No answer means he's serious.

"Okay..." You just answer before turning your back at him again.

Thinking about what you are in his world is heart breaking in a way. You are nothing but someone he owns. You just go with the flow of his world.

Yes you do had an idea what you've signed up for but its still shocking nonetheless how everything is unfolding and is doing.

"Aren't you getting in?"

You look up and see that he is in the elevator already, waiting.

"S-sorry..." you say before entering. You try your best to not make eye contact with him.

After both of you settled in, the maid follows and taps on level 3. That is where both your rooms are.

Oddly, Yoongi taps on the Upper ground after her. "Can you please cook something light before you leave? My wife needs to eat." He orders

"Yes, Master." She answers just in time when the elevator stops on UG.

"We'll both be down after we shower and get rested a bit."

"Understood, Master." She exists the elevator, bows and immediately walks off.

'My wife'. It is the second time he said that today. He never says that.

"Don't skip meals." He mumbles as the door closes

You didn't answer. You didn't mean to skip a meal or two today. And maybe a few days before too. You were nervous. One main reason is the dress you're wearing right now is very revealing. A satin black backless maxi dress. You wanted be perfect in the dress thats why, even though you know it's not achievable.

*pings*

The elevator door opens on level 3. You step out and about to turn to your wing when you hear him call your name again.

"Where are you going?" He asks

"T-to my room..." you sound so weak, "To shower..."

"Shower here." He says, suggesting the shower in his wing. Meaning in his room. Meaning his bathroom.

"Hmm?" You are lost in translation. Why is he asking you to shower there all of a sudden.

"To my room." And then he undo the first two buttons of his shirt.

"W-what? Why?"

He didn't say another word. He just continued to walk off towards his room leaving you.

"W-wait..." You take two steps forward but then stops.

"Y/N...." you hear the heels of his shoes stop hitting the marbled floor. His back is facing you. "I said, shower here. I didn't ask you to decide." he then turns around and you see his white top basically open now. "Will you go and shower with me or do you want me to peel that dress off you and carry you to my room?"

Flusttered by his remark, you just released an unsolicited shaky breathing. "Ahm... yes... I'm... I'm coming..."

***

[Flashback to Yoongi's side]

(Earlier... as soon as Yoongi arrived at the charity event)

Some of the people in the event went silent for a few seconds the moment they saw you enter the building. They all didn't expect you to show up since your wife was already present. But of course, they still greeted you with a smile and tried to make small talks. They want to be on your good side. They know what you are capable off. What power you hold in this world.

However, you don't care about these fuckers. You dropped by because you received a call from your wife's bodyguard that Y/N is not looking okay.

"Where is she?" You ask the man standing behind you.

"She just left the bar, Sir. And went out to the garden." He reply.

"I see."

One step, you just took one step and somebody already stands in your way to your wife.

"Look who's here."

"Sarang." You say her name, bitterly. You are not expecting her to be here.

"You have been ignoring my invites for quite some time now... I thought, helping others is one of your goals in life that's why you work 24/7?"

"I thought this event was by the Lee's?" You hiss at your male assistant.

"It is, Sir. By--"

"Lee Do-Hyun..." she cuts off the assistant. "My husband..." she proudly says. "Aww.. That kind a... hurts my feelings...that... you have no idea I got married..."

"I don't keep tab on people who's not important to me."

She scoffs but she sounded a bit insulted and her ego got hurt. But she's good at pretending that it didn't bothered her. "You say that now...but a few years ago... I was your muse..." she tries to move closer to you but your body guards stands in between quickly.

"Was." You look away from her and try to search for your wife through the window not far away from where you stand. "My mistake for socializing to a liar, back stabbing... leech like you." You say, then giving her a side eye. "I wish your husband good fortune... or that he loves spoiling you... or esle... he'll found out his wife's true color..."

You're about to walk away, again, but this bitch still wants to talk to you.

"You think... she'll not get tired of you? Of you controlling her? Especially getting married with you... with no love at all?" She snorts a laugh again. "Or maybe... she will not..." she mumbles under her breathe, "Now... It figures... why you picked someone from a low class family... someone with no choice but to stay with you because her family needs your money. I see..." she laughs again, "poor girl... if I were her, I would milk you all of your money so it will be worth it... after all she married a controlling, dominant, and a freaky person like you."

You know Y/N is not like her. She is a nice person. She's not into money like this bitch is. However, you do think about how Y/N thinks about you and her marriage to you.

You admit that you are very controlling when it comes to her. It is one of your negative trait that you cannot put away. It comes natural with you because of the life you have been brought up and your business. You want things to happen in your way and you are also possessive. You do try to controll it when it comes to her but you are not sure if you are doing it right.

Well how could you know, you never talk about it. Even with your wife. You never asked about her feelings and opinions.

"Watch your mouth." You mumble. "You might think you know me from the years we've been together. But you haven't seen half of what I can and would do... if anyone picks a fight with me.." you glare at her. "Consider this a warning."

[End of flashback from Yoongi's side]

*************

"Miss..."

Slowly opening your eyes, your eyes carefully adjusted to the light. You could see the ray of sunshine peaking through your dark thick curtains.

"Miss..."

You turn your head to the side and see your maid bowing.

"It's noon Miss..."

"Oh."

It has been a quite a few days now, since you start waking up this late. You are usually up early. You are a morning person. You also do jogs or walks around the property and sometimes go to the home gym to move, always. But something shifted in your routines.

You are tired, less motivated and no will to get up your bed.

"I think we need to call the family doctor now, Miss." The maid suggested. "You've lost a bit of weight and you look pale."

"I'm fine." You say as you push your duvet off your body and slide down off your bed. "I'll take a quick bath..." you mumble

"Understood." She is ready to come along with you.

"No... I'm fine... I'll just go alone... just prepare food for me please."

"But... Miss..." she usually prepares your bath and always stays with you there. After the little accident you had a year ago when you first experience a hot bath on the tub. You fainted because you fell asleep. Too much enjoyment and you forgot it is not good to stay long in there.

"I'll be fine." You smile and requested for her to leave

"Okay Miss... but... I will be back after half an hour to check."

"Sure."

You slept last night, wearing your silk robe and your fancy cream nightgown, his favorite. You were expecting Yoongi to come home last night as per usual schedule. But he didn't. He didn't even informed the staff that he'll not be home for a longer period.

What happened? You don't know.

The last time you talked to him was the night he asked you to come to his room and shower with him.

Everything that night was magical. For you atleast. But then you ruined it.

When you both entered his dark room, he immediately clung onto you. He held you like everything depends on it. It was more intemate and hungry than the usual and you liked it for some reason. After all the self doubt and insecurity you felt in the party, the intemacy made you feel more than what you feel.

And when he peeled off your dress from your body, you didn't expected him to go down on his knees and lick your soul out of your body. His tongue did more than you know he could do. It brought you to another level of high. And you didn't know you could screech like an animal because of it. He really made sure you are on cloud nine or even beyond that.

"Fuck me... please..." you begged him after you knees weakened and fall down the floor where he is.

"No." He said. He was sturn. "No request for tonight." He said and then he positioned you underneath him where he could properly see you crumble because of him.

"Y-yoongi... please.... I need... I want to come..." you begged

He brought you to cloud nine but then hold onto your pearls when you were about to orgasm.

"I'm punishing you right now..." he said as he lowers down and starts to run his tongue from your chest up. "Next time... don't wear any sort of revealing clothes...when I'm not around.. do you understand that Y/N?"

"Y-yes..."

"Another rule to add... are you okay with that?" He hummed the last words on your ears before he let both his hands squeeze your breast. "Answer me..."

"I don't... mind..." you were squearming underneath him. He was playing your nipples then. "I... I don't mind... Yoongi..." you repeated, pleading.

His punishment continued for another few minutes. It was too much. You were struggling catching your bliss but he's playing you. However, you are patient. You know his kinks and you know what he wants and so you do whatever and accept whatever. Coz you know it is from him.

"Scream my name." He grunted as he pounds you with no mercy.

You were holding on to his massive bookshelf on the wall, your legs were lifted and hanging over his forearm whilst he was thrusting deep in you. You were getting hurt from your back hitting the shelves but it didn't matter. You don't know why but for some reason you can endure everything just for Yoongi. Even pain.

"Nnggghhaaa..." you threw your arms around his neck as he went faster. "Please!" You cry on his neck. "Aaaahhh!!" You screamed the orgasm you have been keeping for a while. You felt relieved and content.

And as you two were catching your breath. You uttered words that surprised the both of you. You said 'I love you' to Yoongi.

It should not be a surprise. You two are married right. However since yours are different from others, those words were never said or mentioned ever after the wedding. It is like a forebidden phrase though there are no rule about it. It's like an unspoken deal that no one says those words since THIS.. YOU TWO... is just a fantasy. You two got together with no love. It is not real. You are just one of his property.

And so, after that night. That magical night for you ended up into this cold, quiet and empty prison. Again. You are back to nothing.

You thought you are on a journey escaping that confinement. You thought that something is going to change. You thought... that you were wrong about him. But who are you kidding? You were just having sex like you used to. It is nothing special. It is the same crap. So you saying you love him is... worthless.

"Did I even mean it?" You ask yourself as you lay down in your hot bath. "I said it... after sex.." you are trying to understand how those words slipped out of your lips. If it all just happened because of such high from the sex.

You can clearly remember how you said it. You paused, looked into his eyes and carefully said it. You know you said it with the intent for him to hear it but when you saw his reaction. It made you realize what a big mistake it was.

"Am I having feelings for him?" You mumble as you lower yourself more into the water. "I should not right?"

You know the answer to your own quesion. Look at him even ignoring you for almost two weeks now. Who are you even kidding thinking it will have an effect on him?

After the 'I love you' incident, He eat dinners without you or he let you eat first before he comes out of his home office. And then when he leaves, he does not inform you now. You just get the news of him flying off somewhere from your maid. Even his men are being cautious with you. He must've ordered them to be distant but at the same time protect you.

How funny that these are his responses to you. You know you deserve it but you're a little bit hurt, your not going to lie.

"Who am I for him to love?" You sigh. "Maybe... I should just prepare myself for the ending of this fantasy..."

*********

"Master." The maids bows as they suddenly sees Yoongi enter the main entrance while they are all cleaning.

Yoongi have not been home for a while. He has been... busy.

"Give them all my clothes." He says to his right hand man. "Sorry if it's quite a lot today." He then says to the maids as he removes his black coat revealing his white button up shirt, stained with blood. A lot of it. No one reacted to the visual that is shown. All the staff are used to it. They know how his world is.

"Where is she?" He asks as he loosen up his tie

All the maids in the corredor suddenly turn heads to the youngest one at the end of the line. She is Y/N personal maid.

"Master." She steps forwards and bows again. "Miss is in her bath."

Yoongi frowns. "Alone?"

"Ahm..." she suddenly stutters. "Sorry, Master! She... Miss wanted to... alone... but I told her after half an hour I will go back."

"How long has she been there?" He then throws his tie on the ground.

"Twenty."

"Okay." He takes a deep breathe and tries to collect himself. "Just go and be on standby in her room. She can't stay any longer."

"Okay, Master." She bows again and briskfully walk back to Y/N wing.

"Are you not going to... visit her Sir?" His male right hand asks. "She have been messaging you since..." he pauses for a bit. "And calling too."

He didn't answer. "Ready my bath please." He orders and just continue walking his way to his room.

"Understood." The man replies

"She can't see me like this." Yoongi mumbles as he walks

"I see..." his right hand man smiles at his master's response.

"Why are you smiling?" Yoongi asks, one eyebrow up.

"Nothing, Sir."

"Just spit it out."

The right man, Mr. Kim have been Yoongi's right hand man ever since he was in his teens. Mr. Kim saw him grew up and be the man that he is now. And for sure, if something changed he would be the first one to notice

And now, the tiny changes in Yoongi's mood and decisions, He might not know or see it but it is obvious for Mr. Kim. He knows it is something about his wife.

"2nd week of your marriage, Sir. She saw you coming home with a bloody lip and injured knuckles. You said you don't give a damn if she sees you looking like a murderer."

"So? What's your point?"

"It's just lately...."

Yoongi pauses and turns around to see Mr. Kim, wearing a smile.

"What are you implying? Just... say it."

Mr. Kim bows and says, "Nothing Sir."

"Hmmm..." rolling his eyes, he continued to walk.

*****

"Miss..." your personal maid rushes in your room, "Master have return." She says.

To her suprise, she sees you standing in the middle of the room, wearing your bathrobe and a towel in your hair already.

You take a deep breathe, not letting your eyes look away from the view you are seeing from your window, a clear blue sky.

"Miss.. shall I prepare your clothes?"

You close your eyes and then removed the towel wrapped around your long hair. "Please..." you softly answer

"What do you prefer to wear today, Miss?" She asks she she begins to walk towards your walk in closet.

"A black dress..." you say as you follow along. "Maybe the one with the longer sleeves."

She nods and then continues to search for the dresses you have that matches your description while you on the other hand looks at yourself in the full length mirror while you undress from your robe.

You stare at your body and see how you thin you are. Not super thin but thinner than what you used to.

It's your own fault. You have been skipping meals when you are stressed and it's not good.

"Miss?" She then lays three dresses on the sofa in the middle, for your choices.

"The middle one." You says.

You then open the drawer for your undies to grab a black lace matching underwear.

"Ahm, Miss...?"

"Yes?"

"Are you going to eat with Master, in the dinning today?"

"Hmm... what did he say?"

"Nothing. He just asked me to stay with you when I told him you are in your bath."

"Did he say if he wants to see me?"

The maid didn't answer.

"I guess not." You scoff as you getting into the dress. "Just bring my food in my study room. I'll eat there while I do some reading."

"Understood." She bows and exists the room.

"I'm not gonna wait for him anymore." You say to yourself while looking onto the mirror. "If he's going to avoid me or ignore me... then... that's what I'll do as well..."

Starring once again at yourself on the mirror, you look at your face and then your eyes goes down to your belly.

"I have to learn to go on with my life... with or without him..." you mumble. "I should start to escape this fantasy... a dream that maybe the 'us' will be something."

Part 3 - Twilight

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