#suga x y/n

[ktownshizzle]

Love & Lullabies | Part 2

Pairing: Min Yoongi x female Reader

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

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

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

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

Chapter warnings: First kiss with this Yoongi (have fun with that), one sexist remark from your dummy bestie, baby mama shows up, cliffhanger

Word count: 5.3k

Posting date: November 19, 2024

Notes: This is inspired by an ask/prompt sent by @yoongznme. Icymi, we did a poll and results show y’all wanted to break this into two parts so we shall have a part 3. Enjoy, my lovelies~ 💕🫶🏼

Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Masterlist

Ever since that dinner when you inadvertently confessed about your age-old attraction to him and assured him that any residual feelings are buried in a metaphorical time capsule, Yoongi seems to have made it his personal mission to rizz you up on purpose.

Haneul’s been especially rambunctious all day. Mealtime is no exception. Yoongi volunteers to feed him, thinking he can rein in some of the pent-up energy. At some point, Haneul squeezes his pouch of organic muesli and carrot puree with so much enthusiasm that it explodes everywhere, sending bright orange flecks across Yoongi’s face and pristine white tee.

“GAHHH!” Yoongi yelps, staring down at the mess, while Haneul absolutely loses it, tiny belly-shaking laughter filling the room.

“Silly, silly sarang,” you coo, using the pet name you’d started calling Haneul lately. It’s adorable how he beams every time he hears it, flashing you that gummy grin like he knows he’s your favorite troublemaker. You laugh too, as you wipe a splatter of puree from Haneul’s cheek with the muslin cloth you were holding.

“Do I have something on my face, too?” Yoongi leans towards you expectantly with the barest of smirks.

“Uh… yeah.” You say, flipping the cloth to a clean side and wiping off the smudge on his cheeks and his chin, and that pesky little morsel on the side of his lip.

For some reason, you seem to need a blast of oxygen straight to your lungs. Stat.

With a lick of his lips, Yoongi nods his thanks. “Gotta change,” he mumbles, lifting the shirt away from his chest with a grimace and walks towards the hallway to his room.

And you almost regret your decision to look back, almost.

Because, oh wow, he’s taking his shirt off. Yep. Fuckin’ dammit. The shirt is off.

Christ.

His shoulders are broad, muscles flexing as he runs a hand through his hair. The infamous “7” tattoo on his shoulder is taunting you. You are unable to pull your eyes away, already knowing you’re doomed.

Then, before he mercifully disappears into his room, he glances over his shoulder and catches you staring. Shit. Your heart plummets straight to your ass. He smirks, U-turns towards you shirtless and utterly shameless.

Your nerves short-circuit as he reaches out, just barely brushing your thigh to pick up his phone from the mat. His eyes hold yours, a dark glint of mischief in them, “You good?”

“Huh?” The brain fog is crazy. You will yourself to keep your eyes above his chest, but of course you gone did it.

Why are his nipples so cute? And damn is that a happy trail?

He snickers softly, like he knows exactly what’s going through your head. “I’ll be back. Han’s eating the remote by the way.”

And with that, he saunters off, leaving you there, a blushing, flustered mess as you find Haneul gnawing on the remote control.

You pull it quickly from his grasp, muttering under your breath, “Sarang, why are you and your appa being such a menace?”

He babbles happily at you, as if he knows he’s not the only troublemaker with a gummy grin in this house that got you wrapped around their finger.

The next time you’re at the Min’s, Yoongi is clearly in a rush, checking his phone and mumbling to himself as he zips up his jacket. “Just text me if you need anything, okay?” he calls over his shoulder, already half out the door.

“Got it,” you reply, bending to set your shoes on the rack. You glance down, expecting to see your usual house slippers—but something else catches your eye.

It’s a… capybara? Big, fluffy, and incredibly cozy-looking slippers, with soft little ears and embroidered eyes, just waiting for you. They’re exactly your size. They’re yours, right? It’s in your usual spot. Beside it… another pair. Same goofy capybara face, but larger. Did Yoongi get a pair for himself, too?

You slip them on, feeling their warmth, their plushness, and a little shiver of wonder and disbelief spreads through you. Yoongi thought of this—thought of you. The butterflies in your stomach are in a frenzy now, and you can’t help but smile, giddy and a little stunned. 

The door swings open. “I forgot my—” Yoongi stops mid-sentence.

You’re standing there, wiggling your toes inside the ridiculous capybara slippers, and when you look up, you catch the slight flush creeping across his cheeks. There’s something so unmistakably soft about his expression and it makes your heart do a strange little flip.

“Please tell me they’re mine,” you jut your bottom lip out, a hopefulness you can’t quite hide.

Yoongi steps inside just enough to grab his keys from the table, shrugs, “Who else would they be for?”

And just like that, he’s gone, the door clicking shut behind him.

You’re left standing there, the capybara slippers snug around your feet, Yoongi’s words replaying in your mind. Your heart flutters as you stare down at them, wondering if maybe, just maybe, this small, thoughtful gesture means as much to him as it does to you.

Since then, you start noticing the small ways Yoongi shows his care. Each time he heads out, he leaves little comforts behind—an extra pillow for you on the couch, a plate of fruit on the coffee table, a cup of Silver Moon tea he prepared for you.

More and more, you start to extend your day to night that Yoongi almost expects you now to stay for dinner or join him for Haneul’s nighttime rituals.

Haneul’s bedtime stories have become a team effort—one night you’re reading, the next it’s Yoongi, who’s surprisingly great with voice acting and sound effects. (You should have known!) When Haneul finally drifts off, Yoongi always waits a moment, exchanging a small, tired smile with you as if to say, We did it.

And before you know it, that age-old crush that you said was buried in a metaphorical time capsule? Yoongi just dug it right back up.

One evening, as you rock Haneul to sleep in your arms, Yoongi comes in quietly, setting down a couple of takeout boxes and two cans of Coke on the coffee table. The baby’s small breaths are warm against your shoulder, his eyelids fluttering as he settles into sleep. You gently lay him down in his crib, brushing a hand over his soft hair before joining Yoongi on the couch. 

“Hungry?” Yoongi asks, sliding a takeout box in your direction. He’s not looking directly at you, focused instead on peeling back the lid of his own food.

“Starving,” you admit, smiling as you pick up your chopsticks. “Thank you.”

The quiet clinks of chopsticks and soft laughter fill the room as you both dig in. Conversation with Yoongi has started to come easier lately, and tonight, it flows so naturally you barely notice the time passing. 

“So, what got you into teaching?” he asks, glancing over at you between bites. “You seem good at it. Really good, actually. Haneul has so many party tricks now.”

You pause, laughing a little to mask the warmth in your cheeks. “I just love kids. I enjoy their energy, even if it’s chaotic.” You glance down. “I’ve always wanted my own. Just… hasn’t quite worked out that way yet.”

He nods, not pressing you, just letting you continue.

“I was in a long-term relationship, but things ended because he wasn’t looking for that kind of future,” you say quietly. “I really wanted a family, kids, but he didn’t. He didn’t even believe in marriage. So, it ended, and I guess that’s why I left and went back home.” 

“I’m sorry to hear that. Must have been so difficult for you.”

You nod, swallowing down the ache that lingers. “Yeah. I think part of me is still working through it, honestly. I hope you don’t think this is weird. But being here, with Han…” you sigh. “I don’t know, it’s helping. Even if he’s not quite mine.”

He’s quiet for a moment, his gaze shifting to his hands, fingers tracing the rim of his soda can. “It’s not weird. Look, you’ve helped us a lot, too. Having you here has made things feel… lighter. Happier.”

The words send a flutter through you, a feeling that scares you as much as it comforts you. Because this feels too domestic. A taste of that life you’ve always longed for. With Jiyong, for years. But now, it’s only Yoongi’s face you see in your mind’s eye. Yoongi and Haneul. You then realize how badly you want this, but you’re afraid of wanting it–afraid of what it might mean to get attached to someone like Yoongi.

“I appreciate that.” You reply. “How have you been adjusting to life as a single dad?” 

Yoongi glances over at you, his gaze thoughtful. “I didn’t expect that it would be this rewarding,” he says, his voice soft, but it trails off. “But… it’s lonely sometimes.” He pauses, his fingers absentmindedly toying with the edge of his sleeve. “Not just the parenting stuff, but the other parts. Like when Haneul does something for the first time—takes a step, says a new word—and I just… look around.”

He shrugs, his lips twitching into a small, self-conscious smile. “And it hits me that there’s no one there to share it with. No one to laugh with, to say like, ‘Hey, did you see that?’”

He laughs quietly, a little embarrassed. “I don’t know. Maybe that sounds selfish. But it’s the truth.”

You shake your head. “It’s not. I think we all want someone to share our life with. It’s not wrong to want that.”

He looks over at you, his gaze holding yours with a gentle intensity. “I guess… it’s easier to admit that with you here. It’s funny because in some ways, you’ve been that person for me, for us.”

The words hang between you and the silence stretches, buzzing with a feeling you can’t quite name. You’re painfully aware of every detail—the curve of his lips, the way his hand rests on his lap, the tenderness in his eyes. You know there’s something there, simmering, and you wonder if he can feel it too.

Finally, he breaks the silence. “Thanks for being here tonight. Really.”

You smile back, heart racing. “Thank you for trusting me. I know… this isn’t easy for you.”

As you sit there, side by side in your matching capybara slippers, the feeling of wanting more, of something real and lasting, settles into your chest. It’s a feeling you thought you’d put on the backburner, but here, with Yoongi, it’s igniting again.

You find yourself chilling at Namjoon’s apartment, days after that dinner, sprawled across his couch with a plate of instant jjajangmyeon balanced precariously on your lap. Some indie album is playing in the background, and you’re too caught up in your spiraling thoughts to even notice Namjoon observing you between bites.

“I’m screwed,” you say suddenly, poking at your noodles with your chopsticks.

Namjoon doesn’t even look affected. “What now?”

“It’s your fault, you big oaf.”

“K stop being cryptic,” he says, motioning for you to explain. “What did I do this time?”

You drop your chopsticks with an exasperated sigh. “Yoongi.”

“Mhm… What about hyung?”

You hesitate, pressing your lips together before blurting out, “I think… I think I like him… again.”

For a moment, Namjoon just stares at you, his expression unreadable. And then he has the audacity to laugh, nearly choking on his noodles as he leans back against the cushions.

“You’re so predictable,” he says between chuckles, shaking his head. “God I knew this was coming.”

You narrow your eyes at him, offended. “What do you mean you knew this was coming?”

“I mean, come on,” he says, gesturing at you with his chopsticks. “You’ve been spending all this time at his place, basically co-parenting Haneul with him. You’re acting like this is some big revelation when it’s been written all over your face.”

You stare at him. “Wow. Are you done?”

Namjoon smirks, tossing his empty takeout box onto the table before leaning forward, elbows resting on his knees. “Okay, okay. Let’s unpack this,” he says, mock-serious. “You like him again. Fine. Why is that a bad thing?”

“Because, dude, it’s Yoongi. What if he’s not actually feeling it, which won’t be the first time? And! I still don't know why he suddenly has a son.”

“You have to ask him that.” Namjoon sets his drink down, his expression sobering slightly. “But answer this—Are you over Jiyong?”

The mention of your ex makes your stomach twist, but you nod, sighing. “Yeah. I’m over him. I’ve come to terms with it. He wasn’t the one for me.”

“Damn right, he wasn’t,” Namjoon mutters, shaking his head. “That guy was an asshole. I never liked him, you know.”

“I know,” you say, laughing softly. “You made it pretty obvious.”

“Good,” he replies firmly. “Because you deserve better. Way better.”

You glance at him, your heart warming a little. “Thanks, Joon.”

“Don’t thank me yet,” he says, leaning back against the couch. “We’re not done talking about hyung.”

You groan again, flopping back against the cushions. “This is so pathetic.”

“No, it’s not,” Namjoon says, his voice softening. “It’s cute. Gross, but cute. And honestly, if hyung’s finally starting to let someone in, I’d rather it be you than some rando.”

You blink, feeling the weight of his words settle over you. “You’re really still shipping us after all these years?”

“Of course,” he says, nudging your knee with his. “You’re good for each other. I’ve known this all along.”

A pause settles as you finish your meal and Namjoon, his drink.

Then, he shakes his head like he’s just realized something. “So this is why Yoongi hyung has been sneaking in some extra work out time in between rehearsals.”

“He’s been walking around his house shirtless. Well, it’s his house, so…” you shrug, pretending you dgaf when really you’ve been thwarting mini heart attacks.

Namjoon’s eyes widen. “No fuckin’ way.”

“Don’t you dare tell him,” you warn, pointing your chopsticks at him.

He smiles wide, teeth blackened by the jajangmyeon sauce. “Only if you say yes to a night out.”

You groan, already mourning the loss of a perfectly good night of doom scrolling, as you toss him a paper towel. “Fine. When?”

You arrive at the bar later than planned. It’s some newly opened speak-easy in Gangnam owned by Joon’s friend. As you push the door that looks like a bookcase from outside, a rush of cool air ruffles the skirt you’re wearing. You definitely took a bit of time selecting your outfit and doing your makeup today, and now you feel really good, great even, even though you initially dreaded going out.

As you scan the room, you spot Namjoon in a large circular booth near the back, surrounded by familiar faces. He spots you first, waving you over with that dimpled grin of his. As you approach, you notice that the atmosphere is already loose and lively, evidenced by the various bottles and half-consumed glasses already on the table. 

Jin is leaning back, looking exasperated, and Hobi is covering his mouth as he laughs, his face flushed from the drinks he’s clearly had more than a few of. And there’s a girl beside him, who you vaguely recognize as the same one from when you watched their rehearsals.

“Look who finally decided to show up!” Namjoon calls out, standing up to envelop you in a hug.

“The star has arrived,” you jest, doing a flower pose on your face. Hobi rises to give you a hug, then Jin follows suit. 

“This is Yunjin,” Hobi introduces the redhead beside him. “My lovely wife.”

Yunjin has the same megawatt smile to match Hobi’s. “Glad to meet you.”

“Good to meet you, too!” you say back as you hug.

“You clean up nice,” your best friend comments as you all settle back inside the booth. “When you’re not acting like a hermit in your condo.”

“I know,” you roll your eyes, surreptitiously scanning the vicinity. “Who else is coming?” you hope you’re not painfully obvious on who you were wishing would be there.

“Just us,” Joon side eyes you, before adding. “Yoongi-hyung just stepped away for a second.”

“Ah.” 

As if on cue, Yoongi steps into view.

And goddamn. Your brain corrupts for a moment, and you swear you hear soft K-drama OST music in the background.

He runs a hand through his hair as he surveys the room as if he has some invisible wind machine following him. He’s wearing a black blazer that fits perfectly over a simple white tank. There’s a flash of silver at his waist from his belt that hugs his light-wash jeans. A small pop of pink on his neck somehow softens the whole look, a cute touch.

He looks so effortlessly good it’s almost obnoxious. The thing is, you’re pretty sure he knows it. That smirk on his face is very telling.

“Hey, you made it,” he says quietly, sliding into the seat next to you as if he belongs there. He grabs the drink by your elbow to take a sip and you get a whiff of his scent—musky, woody, dangerous.

“Yeah,” you squeak, no clue how you will manage to act normally around him now, but a joke seemed appropriate. “Shit. Nobody said my ‘employer’ was gonna be here. Now I have to be on my best behavior.” You say to the others in a whisper.

“DON’T,” Yoongi groans, shaking his head, lower lip bitten in mock irritation.

The rest laugh at your exchange. Hobi slides a shot of whatever to you, and you take it, grateful.

“You missed a big reveal by the way,” Namjoon says. “Apparently, Jin-hyung has officially sworn off women for all eternity.”

Jin rolls his eyes. “Ha-ha. It’s called having a life outside of getting your dick wet, thank you very much. Not everyone needs to be a simp like you.”

“Who is it this time, Joonie?” You ask, taking a tiny sip from the shot glass.

“Soyeon.” Everyone says in chorus. Even Yoongi says it under his breath.

“Oh, god,” you breathe out. “You’re on again?”

Namjoon sighs, “I know, I know. She’s got me in a chokehold.”

Jin raises his drink. “To Namjoon-ah, the biggest simp we know.”

Namjoon shakes his head, laughing in defeat as everyone clinks glasses.

“…and to Seokjin being forever bitchless.” You add under your breath, exchanging giggles with Yunjin.

“Yah!” Jin shouts from his beer glass and you throw him a wink.

“Speaking of simping,” Hobi says, drawing out the word as he looks pointedly at Yoongi. 

“Hoba.” Yoongi warns. You’re curious now.

“The new songwriters Si-hyuk on-boarded from America. They saw you with Haneul. I heard them calling you a DILF.”

Hobi practically falls apart, laughing so hard he clutches his sides. Jin and Namjoon aren’t far behind, their cackling attracting stares from neighboring tables. Even Yoongi can’t fully suppress his grin, though he tries valiantly to play it off. You laugh along, but you feel your face heating up and you don’t know exactly why.

“So you already have an in,” Jin says, reaching over to give Yoongi a hearty slap on the back. “Even you could use a good distraction once in a while.”

“Hajimaaaa,” Yoongi complains, brushing off Jin’s grasp on his shoulder. “Hoba’s just making shit up.”

“I’m not lying!” Hobi raises his right hand up as if he’s swearing an oath. Then he mock-complains, “Nobody ever calls me a DILF.”

Yunjin elbows him on the stomach and Hobi splutters, as they start bickering playfully.

Then Namjoon turns his sights on you. “Hey y/n, you're a girl,” he starts and immediately, you know he is setting you up for something.

“Keen eye,” you deadpan, placing the shot glass on your lips.

“So,” Namjoon says, dimples deepening as he leans in, gestures to Yoongi, “objectively… is he?”

“Is he what?” you grit, but your eyes are screaming ‘Don’t you dare, Kim Namjoon. Don’t you fucking dare, you piece of shit.’

Namjoon raises his eyebrows, looking every bit the trouble-maker. “A DILF?”

Motherfucker.

You nearly choke on your drink, fighting the urge to strangle your best friend as his grin widens, clearly enjoying your discomfort. 

“You’re an asshole, objectively speaking. And I need a real drink if this is how tonight’s gonna go,” you down the entire shot before moving to slide out of the booth to escape before you’re forced to answer.

Yoongi moves out to give you space and decides, “I’ll go with you.” 

As you head toward the bar together, you feel the warmth of Yoongi’s hand on the small of your back. You chance a quick look back at Namjoon, who’s wearing an absolute shit-eating grin, clearly pleased with himself, like this has been his master plan all along—more than ten years in the making.

You decide to go to the bar outside. It’s quieter here and you also need the fresh air.

“Sorry about that…” Yoongi scratches the back of his neck.

“Oh please, no need to apologize for Namjoon’s dumb behavior.” You wave a hand, as if it’s really no big deal. But your insides are still churning.

“So who’s with Haneul tonight?” You ask as you perch on the bar stool.

“My eomma. She’s going to be staying in town for the next two weeks since it’s Han’s birthday.”

“Wow,” you say, excited. “What’s the plan?”

Yoongi shrugs. “Ah, something small. Just family, maybe a couple of friends. Nothing too big. He won’t even remember it.”

You laugh lightly. “Yeah, but you should be celebrating your first year as a dad, too.”

He smiles faintly at that, nodding. “Maybe. But I’m terrible at planning stuff like this. I was gonna keep it simple—a cake, some balloons, that’s it.”

“Well, if you need help, let me know,” you offer casually, trying to keep your tone light even as your stomach flutters at the thought of being part of something so special.

“You sure?”

“100%,” you say, nudging him lightly with your elbow. 

“I don’t want to impose, though. You already do so much.”

“You’re not imposing,” you reply firmly. “I want to help. Besides, I’m already halfway to being Han’s favorite person.”

“Halfway?” he repeats, huffing. “You’ve already taken that spot–100%.”

You grin, feeling your cheeks warm. “What can I say? I’m irresistible to one-year-olds.”

Yoongi’s still for a moment, his gaze lingering on you. There’s something thoughtful in his expression, before mumbling under his breath, “Maybe not just to one-year-olds.”

Eh?

But before you can say anything, he already gestures to call the bartender to take your drink orders.

You’re glad you went out tonight. It’s been a while since you had spent time with a group that made you feel so welcome. Despite the jovial mood you’re in, your social battery is definitely drained. Yoongi notices and asks if you want a ride home since he also needs to go for father duties. You both say your goodbyes and head to his car in the parking lot.

The drive is quiet but not awkward, the soft music filling the space between you during the quick drive to your apartment. When he pulls up in front of your place, you hesitate for a second, debating whether to invite him in. But then you remember the absolute disaster inside—clothes flung everywhere, shoes scattered, your makeup bag abandoned on the kitchen counter in your rush to get ready. Plus, you don’t even have a couch, so…

“Thanks for the ride,” you say, unbuckling your seatbelt. “I’d invite you in, but, uh… my place looks like a crime scene right now.”

He has a confused look on his face, so you explain, “Tried on half my closet before settling on this.”

His gaze sweeps over your outfit, but not in a way that feels invasive. If anything, he looks appreciative. “Worth it,” he says simply, and your heart does a somersault.

There’s a moment, a pause where you should say goodnight. Get out of the car. But something about the way Yoongi’s eyes are still on you makes your pulse quicken, and suddenly, it’s like the air between you feels heavier.

“Stay here,” he says softly, stepping out of the car and walking around to your side. He opens your door, his hand outstretched to help you out, and you take it, letting him guide you onto the sidewalk.

He doesn’t let go of your hand. The short walk up to your apartment feels longer than it should, yet you don’t want it to end.

When you reach your door, you turn to face him, suddenly unsure of what to say. “Well… goodnight, I guess.”

Yoongi hesitates for a moment, hand still lightly grasping yours. “I need to tell you something.”

“Okay…” Your throat felt dry saying that.

“I umm found Haneul a nanny. Youngbae-hyung recommended this agency they used to find theirs and I’ve signed on someone who’s starting soon.”

You’re a little shocked at the news. This is good though because Yoongi really needs a more reliable and constant solution to their caregiving needs. Despite the heavy feeling that has settled in your chest, you try to lighten the mood with a joke that doesn’t quite land, “Why does this feel like a break-up?”

Yoongi shakes his head, lips curved into a small smirk, as he tucks a stray hair behind your ear, “Not even close.” He releases a sigh. “Can I ask you something?”

“Sure,” you nod, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Can I kiss you goodnight?”

The question takes you by surprise, the vulnerability in his voice making your heart ache, but this time, in the best way. You nod, smiling softly. “Yeah. You can.”

He steps closer, his hand brushing lightly against your arm before tilting your chin up gently. The kiss is soft, tentative, like he’s savoring every second. You are, too. It’s just… sweet. Like a first kiss should be. Perfect.

When he pulls back, his forehead rests lightly against yours, and you can feel the warmth of his breath against your lips. For a moment, neither of you moves, like you can’t believe what just happened.

Yoongi’s eyes flutter shut as he confesses, “Is it bad that I want to do that again already?”

“No, ‘cause same…” Your hands reach out, grasping the lapels of his jacket, and you pull him back in.

Yoongi responds instantly, his hands sliding to your waist as he presses you gently against the wall, his warmth and weight upon you dangerously addictive. His tongue brushes yours, soft and slick, that spark of contact so electric that you feel yourself melting further into him. Your arms loop around his neck, bringing him closer, and when his lips part against yours, his teeth catch your bottom lip, sucking on it softly before letting it go. The sensation sends a shiver racing down your spine, and you can’t help the quiet moan that escapes you.

Your fingers tangle in his hair, threading through the silky strands before one hand slides down to find the belt loop of his jeans. You tug on it, pulling him impossibly closer, until there’s no space left between your bodies.

Yoongi groans against your mouth as your bodies collide, your chest against his, his leg in between your thighs, fitting into each other like tetris pieces. As your nails scratch the tufts of hair by his nape, a rumble, low and rough, escapes his throat, sending another wave of heat straight to your core. His hands grip your waist tighter, grounding you even as your world shifts.

When you finally pull back, your breaths come fast and uneven. His hair is slightly mussed from your fingers, his lips flushed and slightly parted, and he looks at you with a mix of wonder. You feel kind of proud, taking in his sexy, disheveled appearance.

“I really should’ve tidied up my place,” you murmur, your fingers still loosely hooked in his belt loop.

Yoongi blinks, dazed for a moment, before letting out a soft chuckle. “It’s fine. There will be other times.” His fingers brush against your shoulder as he gently hooks the strap of your top that had slipped down, carefully sliding it back into place.

“Other times, huh?” you tease.

He licks his kiss-bitten lip, smirks and says, “Good night.”

“Good night,” you reply as you watch him retreat down the hall.

“I’ll text you,” he calls over his shoulder before disappearing into the elevator, leaving you standing at your doorway, your lips still tingling and your heart on your sleeve.

You close the door, leaning back against it with a sigh.

That same night, you resolve to go to IKEA to finally buy a damn couch and a bedframe. You know, just in case. For those other times.

Yoongi: haneul says he misses you You: Oh, rly? He talks full sentences now? Yoongi: yes? You: I miss him, too. Yoongi: good. see u tomorrow? You: I’m so there, no question Yoongi: good night

Yoongi’s apartment is alive with energy, the living room transformed into a whimsical—but slightly chaotic—mix of cats and capybaras. It’s a theme that feels both playful and oddly fitting, a nod to Haneul’s love for capybaras (which you take full credit for) and Yoongi being a literal cat daddy. Yours, hopefully, but the thing is… it’s been awkward. At least for you.

You spent the morning hanging streamers, tying balloons, and carefully setting up the decorations while Yoongi grumbled about the sheer number of things to assemble.

At some point, Yoongi takes your hand and introduces you to his mom. Just your name—no label, no context, no indication of what you are to him beyond someone who is here, present, and involved. It had been a brief, polite exchange, but you couldn’t help the twinge of awkwardness that followed, even if Yoongi’s hand stayed clasped with yours and he may have dropped a chaste kiss on top of your head before he had to go say hi to other guests. 

Your relationship—or lack thereof—still feels undefined. You haven’t had the talk with Yoongi since that kiss after the night out. You’re in this off, lukewarm state, caught somewhere between the heat of semi-flirty late-night texts and the cold hard truth that he’s been too busy to really sit down and talk. With their comeback just weeks away, his rehearsals have been relentless, and you’ve told yourself not to take it personally. You know how this goes.

But still. Seeing him now, watching him laugh softly at something Namjoon said while adjusting Haneul’s tiny party hat, a knot twists in your stomach. You just don’t know how to properly operate in this space that’s in flux.

You shake the thoughts away, willing yourself to shelf the conversation for later. It’s Haneul’s day, you remind yourself. Whatever questions you have about you and Yoongi can wait.

“Noona, these cupcakes are so good!” Jungkook calls out, holding up one with a cat face on it.

“Thank you, Kook! Can’t take credit for them though. I just got them from a pastry shop near my place.”

“Still, you’ve got good taste,” he says, licking the frosting that makes up the cat’s tail.

Suddenly, the doorbell rings. Yoongi, closest to the door, moves to answer it. You don’t think much of it until you hear Yoongi’s voice croak. “What are you doing here?”

Curiosity piqued, you glance toward the doorway, and that’s when you see her.

Tall, gorgeous, and impossible to miss. Lee Sung Kyung steps inside, her polished, effortless elegance making her stand out. She barely spares a glance at anyone else, her focus entirely on Yoongi.

Your stomach drops. You have a bad feeling about this.

Namjoon is at your side in an instant, his voice low. “Hey… I think we need to talk.”

“What?” you ask, forcing a smile as you pick up a napkin, pretending to tidy the already-organized table. But your eyes are glued to the scene by the entrance, at Yoongi’s clenched jaw, and Sung Kyung’s outstretched arm.

You feel a little miffed that Namjoon takes you by the elbow, voice insistent as he says, “NOW.”

"Joon," You ask, mustering all your courage, even though you are terrified of the answer. "Who is she?"

"She's Lee Sung Kyung."

Your ears are ringing and you grit your teeth as you respond, "I fucking know her name." You repeat the question, slower, a little angrier. "Who. is. she."

Namjoon hesitates, his jaw tightening before he answers. “She’s Haneul’s mom.”

Part Three >

A/N: dun dun DUN. 🙉 I need y'all in the comments! <3 How are you feeling??? Feedback is super appreciated and helps keep my motivation high ✨

I am so excited to share part 3.

Hope you all are sattt 🪑

Thank you for reading, you lovely, beautiful human! 💜

& If you want to read more of my work, please check out my Masterlist

Taglist:

@yoongznme @nnybtitts08 @rinkud @nbjch05 @perfectiondazesworld

@marnz1990 @mxrauds @queenbloody @jadestonedaeho7 @futuristicenemychaos

@direnediane @glossdebut @maryhopemei @theresstardustinmyblood @mggv97

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[glossdebut]

PRICE OF FAME | MYG ★ 01

✧ PAIRING: yoongi x fem!reader

✧ SERIES SUMMARY: You were about ready to give up, your career nowhere near what you dreamed it’d be when you started at eighteen, bright-eyed and naive. Reality for you these past few years has consisted of pouting at a camera, ignoring whispers of your name at company events, and ensuring that the stupid, tiny designer purses they keep forcing on you can at least carry a flask. But now, you’re helping a friend in need. For the first time in a long time, it feels like you’re doing something worthwhile with your life. Too bad Min Yoongi, the newest thorn in your side, seems insistent on stopping you.

✧ SERIES TAGS: enemies to lovers, slow burn, angst, smut, fake/pretend relationship (not main couple), rockstar!yoongi, model!reader, guitarist yoongi, singer jungkook, bassist taehyung, drummer jimin, manager namjoon, yoongi & maknae line are in a rock band, reader & seokjin are best friends, yoongi & hoseok are best friends (sope duo ftw), yoongi has a tongue piercing, reader is a brat

✧ CHAPTER WARNINGS: recreational drinking, yoongi is an asshole (see series masterlist for series warnings)

✧ CHAPTER WORDCOUNT: 6.1k words

✧ AUTHOR’S NOTE: NEW ERA NEW ERA NEW ERA! whew!!! i’m excited for this one! this is going to be a loooong ride, so buckle up and enjoy! please note the slow burn tag on this one, because i’m not joking around with it. trust me, it’s going to hurt me just as much as it hurts you.

a HUGE thank you to tanni @yooniivrse for continuing to beta read for me <3 your commentary never fails to make me laugh and your edits save my life.

P.S. everything i know about the korean music industry is informed by my years as a kpop fan. i don’t know much about the rock scene there, so expect inaccuracies galore going forward. i do my due diligence where i can, but that can only help so much.

CH. 01: ALL YOU PEOPLE ARE VAMPIRES!

You aren’t entirely sure when you stopped feeling at home in places like this. There has to be some kind of defining event, some kind of indicator of The Before and The After, but every time you try and figure it out you come up short.

In The Before, not all that long ago, you would be scrounging for the bus fare rattling around in your pockets to get to a place like this as soon as you punched out from your shift at the Speedy Mart.

During your short stint in college, your friends didn’t understand your obsession. Music venues, to them, were fun for a weekend’s night out. The thrill of flashing a fake ID, of flirting with the musicians after their set, of getting said musicians to buy them drinks—it was a satisfying rebellion, a fun story to tell people at school and hide from their parents.

But you were there every day, even after classes and graveyard shifts under fluorescent lights, always racing to the nearest show without even changing out of your polo. It was never a rebellion to you. The lights, the thumping bass, the secondhand smoke—it made every nerve ending in your body light up.

You were born in this smoke, as far as you’re concerned.

Maybe it’s different now because it’s work to be here. But what isn’t work, these days? Your life is micromanaged down to the minutiae—the meals you eat, the products you use in your hair, your goddamn piss breaks. There’s no clocking out for you, no gasp of relief that comes after. Such is life for one of Seoul’s many playthings.

Even in the dead of winter, your stylist, Hyerin, has you in a dress that begs to be pulled down every five minutes like clockwork. 

You learned a long time ago to bite your tongue on matters like this. The brands you work for pay you for the exposure you give them, after all. The chill that settles in your bones from the ten steps you take from your paid car to the venue door will be well worth it next time you count the zeroes in your bank account. At least, that’s what Hyerin told you as she pushed you out of the car and into the cold.

Wasteland looks the same as it did the very first night you ever stepped foot inside. Same red, glowing guitar sign above the entrance. Same shitty overpriced drinks. Same sticky floors. It’s nice that some things never change even when you do.

You’ve never been on the balcony, though. You’ve gotta hand it to Jeongguk—he’s really pulling out all the stops. To your knowledge, the balcony is normally reserved for VIPs. Close friends and family of the band, other celebrities, lucky and well-connected fans. Significant others. You suppose you fall under more than one of those categories now.

The crowd gathered on this side of the stage buzzes incessantly around you, waiting for the set to start. The excitement is palpable, and you understand why. It’s the very last show of Burn The Stage’s very first world tour following the release of their third studio album, and they’re ending it here: in Seoul. At Wasteland no less, the venue that housed the show that got them signed in the first place. Of course people are excited.

If you were the same person you were in The Before, you would be, too. 

Instead, as the stage lights go down and the crowd roars around you, you down the rest of your drink and pray it’ll do its job and calm your fidgeting. For a split second, the thought that maybe you shouldn’t be drunk tonight passes through your brain, but it disappears as quickly as it comes. Your hopes of making a good first impression were squandered as soon as Hyerin zipped up your dress. 

Besides, it’s not as if Jeongguk picked you for your shining reputation. More like the opposite.

With a flash of lights and a cacophony of sound, Burn The Stage launches into their first song on the setlist. The crowd roars around you, but you’re not here as a fan, so you try to remember everything Jeongguk taught you in preparation for tonight.

If you weren’t already close, most everything there is to learn about Jeon Jeongguk himself could easily be found with a simple Naver search.

Not only is Jeongguk the lead vocalist and rhythm guitarist of Burn The Stage, but he’s also the de facto face of the band, and he couldn’t be better suited for the job. He’s beautiful. Like, seriously beautiful. Well-built and knows it, sings songs about love and sex and anger with the sweetest voice known to man, covered in tattoos and piercings that eommas everywhere pretend to disapprove of when they’re actually ogling just as much as their daughters. He’s a teenage girl’s wet dream, and with that comes hordes of them using the deductive skills of the NIS to figure out the last time he took a shit. Very little in his life is a secret, whether he likes it or not.

The rest of the band, in turn, gets the luxury of a little bit of mystery.

Park Jimin, the drummer, and Kim Taehyung, the bassist. Jeongguk’s best friends in the world. You’ve met them both in passing before, at industry events here and there, and they both seemed nice enough. 

Jimin has a bit of a reputation for being temperamental, angry, but the way Jeongguk describes him paints him as something gentle. Childhood friends who’ve known each other since scraped knees and runny noses. 

It’s public knowledge that Jimin wanted to be a dancer, before this—that when he was in college, he suffered an injury that ended his dancing career before it even started. One moment he was one of the most promising ballet students in Seoul, and the next he was retired at nineteen. He doesn’t like to talk about it, but every time the band is interviewed the question is inevitably asked. Do you have any regrets? You’ve watched the videos, seen the way he shakes with anger even as he answers with a saccharine smile. You have a feeling getting along with Jimin won’t pose any challenges for you. You know a thing or two about regrets.

Taehyung is a bit harder to figure out, but not in any way that sparks concern. He’s just an interesting guy that way. 

He was the last to join the band, the first to answer a ‘BASS PLAYER NEEDED’ ad posted around the city. Apparently, he was so good that they didn’t feel the need to call anyone else.

He lives in his own world, does his own thing. Posts very artistic photo dumps on his Instagram with concerningly cryptic captions. He’s quiet when he’s around people he doesn’t know, but when he’s put in a room with Jimin and Jeongguk he becomes the loudest person there. He’s kind, caring, always seems to know the right thing to say even if it’s delivered in the strangest manner possible.

Jimin and Taehyung won’t cause any problems for you. Jeongguk assured you that they’d be easy to win over, that as long as Jeongguk likes you, you’re in with them. 

The real wild card is the guitarist. Min Yoongi.

According to Jeongguk, Burn The Stage wouldn’t even exist if it weren’t for Yoongi. When the band formed, they were just dumb kids with a shared dream, but Yoongi was the one to set it all in motion. 

When they didn’t have anywhere to practice, Yoongi convinced the ajumma he worked for to let him cram as much equipment as he could fit into a tiny noraebang room. When venues wouldn’t book them without the guarantee that they would draw a crowd, Yoongi burned hundreds of CDs and stood on the streets of Hongdae begging people to listen. When shady entertainment companies started offering them laughable contracts, Yoongi found Namjoon and somehow convinced him to manage them for dirt cheap. When they finally got an offer worth taking, Yoongi made them mull it over for as long as they possibly could. Weigh the pros and cons and decide if it was what they really wanted.

If Jeongguk is the face of the band, Yoongi is the heart. Unfortunately for you, this particular heart is very well-guarded.

Yoongi takes his privacy seriously. He refuses to answer interview questions he deems too personal, he doesn’t use social media. When asked why, his answer is always that he wants the music to speak for him. 

Because that’s another thing: every single song that Burn The Stage has ever released has been penned by Yoongi. To his credit, it’s kind of what they’re known for. His lyrics have a raw honesty to them that’s gotten the band into trouble more than once. 

You finally tune into the show that’s unfolded below you, the words spilling from Jeongguk’s lips loud and clear in your ears now that you’re paying attention.

​​Well, I ain't got no dollar signs in my eyes That might be a surprise but it's true Said, "I'm not like you and I don't want your advice Or your praise or to move in the ways you do and I never will" 'Cause all you people are vampires And all your stories are stale And though you pretend to stand by us I know you're certain we'll fail

It’s rock music. It’s polarizing, controversial, edgy. Biting the hand that feeds them—especially in the eyes of the executives lining the band’s pockets, you’re sure. And yet everyone eats it up. 

Still, Yoongi wouldn’t get away with half of it if he wasn’t attractive, you’re sure of it.

Because he is. Attractive. They all are, and he’s no exception. He checks all of the boxes annoyingly well. The long hair, the signature smirk, the little silver barbell on a tongue that he seems all too happy to flash at a moment’s notice. Too bad he seems like one of those pretentious, tortured artist types that take themselves way too seriously. That’s never done it for you.

Jeongguk is the one singing Yoongi’s words, and he might as well be Korea’s sweetheart—if it weren’t for all the tattoos. He conveys the message of Yoongi’s songs exactly as intended, but he doesn’t have to act like an egotistical gatekeeper to do it.

Maybe it’s a preference on your part. You’ve always had a thing for sweetness.

★ ★ ★

After the concert, you’re ushered off of the balcony by one of the band’s security guards. It’s the same guy who escorted you up when you arrived, and you note to yourself that he’s very polite. Eunwoo, according to his nametag.

It tracks, given Burn The Stage’s reputation for making sure the women at their concerts feel comfortable in the crowd. You’ve heard stories about them stopping mid-song to have handsy men kicked out, and it’s nice to know their commitment extends to the people they employ for themselves.

Eunwoo offers you his hand palm-up as you descend down the balcony stairs, and you take it with a grateful smile. You’re feeling wobbly in these shoes, and the drinks you’ve downed since your arrival aren’t helping matters. Even with the assistance, you still feel like a baby giraffe as you step down, but thanks to Eunwoo, you don’t eat shit.

Eunwoo dutifully guides you backstage, to a grimy, graffitied hallway housing the dressing rooms for Wasteland’s talent of the night. Jeongguk waits outside of one of them, guzzling down a bottle of water as a female staff member dabs sweat off of his forehead with a pristine white towel. She’s only there for a moment before slipping back through the dressing room door. Finally noticing your approach, Jeongguk turns his head and grins at you, and you feel your nerves ebb away instantly. He’s good at that.

As you get closer to Jeongguk, you turn to smile and nod at Eunwoo in thanks. He smiles back politely, wordlessly falling back to give you some privacy.

“Daaaamn, YN-ah,” Jeongguk says, whistling lowly as you reach him. “You’re going to cause a bloodbath in there.” He nods his head towards the dressing room door, and you roll your eyes despite the heat building in your cheeks.

“I know, I know,” you say, smoothing your hands over your dress. “It’s not exactly a meet-the-family outfit, but I didn’t have a choice.”

“Nah, it’s cool. You look hot,” he says, grabbing your hand and making you do a spin, forcing a surprised laugh out of you as you try not to trip over yourself. Jeongguk keeps you steady, though, with a hand on your shoulder. “You good?”

“Yeah,” you say, although you’re sure your face gives away how terrified you are of what awaits you on the other side of the door. “Maybe you should’ve picked an actress for this, though.”

“I trust you,” he says softly, squeezing your shoulder. “It’s not too late to back out, though. I’ll understand…”

You believe him, of course. Those doe eyes don’t lie, and even so, he’s already told you over and over how bad he feels for asking this of you. But you don’t want to back out. Jeongguk has given you so much since you’ve met—it’s only right to try and repay him for it.

“I want to do this,” you assure him, reaching up to squeeze his hand on your shoulder. “I’m just worried I won’t be able to pull it off.”

“You will,” Jeongguk says, smiling down at you warmly. “Don’t sweat it too much, okay? We’ve got this. It’s not like I have to pretend to like you.”

Right. You wish Jeongguk’s words did what they were meant to and instilled some kind of confidence in you, but what they actually do is make your chest ache uncomfortably. Pull yourself together, you think. Now’s not the time.

You smile good-naturedly, hoping Jeongguk doesn’t notice the way it doesn’t quite meet your eyes. “Let’s get this over with,” you mumble.

“That’s the spirit!” he laughs, sliding the hand on your shoulder around to the other one so his arm is slung around you. You hate the way your heart flutters, despite the fact that you’d prepared for this. Dumb bitch.

Jeongguk cracks the dressing room door open just enough to ensure that all of the men inside are decent, and then he’s guiding you inside, your hands flying down to smooth your dress over again, just in case. 

The dressing room is bustling with more people than you expected, people you recognize from the balcony and staff alike. There’s a fast-paced rock song playing over a bluetooth speaker, almost loud enough to drown out the chatter. 

Everyone seems to be in celebration mode after the last show of the tour. There’s a large sheet cake on a cart in the middle of the room emblazoned with the band members’ faces in frosting, plastic champagne flutes littered around the room in varying states of fullness. Judging by the bottle in his hand and the way staff members wipe at his face fussily, it seems like Taehyung took the liberty of pouring champagne over his head to cool off.

You’re used to having lots of eyes on you—it comes with the job—but something about the way Jeongguk’s bandmates immediately stop what they’re doing and take notice of your presence startles you, puts you on edge.

“Jeonggukie! You missed the cake,” Jimin calls, standing up from where he sat on the couch. He holds out a slice of the sheet cake to Jeongguk, tilting his head at you as he approaches. “Where do I know you from?”

Jeongguk removes his arm from your shoulders to take the plate, snorting at the image of his decapitated cake-head staring up at him. “Hyungs,” he says, grabbing a plastic fork and digging into the slice. “This is YLN YN.”

“Oh, we’ve met before! The model, right?” Taehyung pipes up from where he’s still being wiped down, and you nod politely. “I saw your Innisfree campaign last month. I couldn’t remember whether your skin was really that nice in person.”

You watch as he extricates himself from the staff, ignoring their protests as he walks away from them.

Taehyung gets close to you, close enough to inspect your pores like he clearly intends to, and you fight the urge to instantly recoil. Jeongguk seems too busy stuffing his face with cake to interfere, and you want to make a good first impression. So much for your personal bubble.

“It is,” he says, nodding sagely to himself.

“Th-thank you?” you stammer. Beside you, Jeongguk finally tunes back in.

“Jeez, hyung,” he says around a mouthful of cake. He chews for a moment, swallowing thickly before continuing. “Let her breathe.”

“Sorry,” Taehyung says sheepishly, backing out of your personal space, and you let go of a breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding, shaking your head.

“It’s fine,” you say, mustering a polite smile. 

You note that despite his initial (albeit subtle) acknowledgement of your existence when you walked in the door, Yoongi now seems entirely disinterested in interacting with you. He hasn’t moved from where he’s planted on the couch, focused intently on strumming his guitar. How he can even hear what he’s playing over the noise is beyond you. It’s not even plugged into an amp. 

You’d be a little annoyed that he hasn’t even bothered to greet you, but you reason that he must be pretty worn out from all of the fanfare surrounding the show tonight. Introvert recognizes introvert. You try not to take it personally.

“Do you know Jeongguk-ah well?” Jimin asks, drawing your attention back to him. His eyes bounce between you and his bandmate. He seems to be putting the pieces together, so you glance at Jeongguk, wordlessly passing the question his way.

Thankfully, Jeongguk seems to get the hint. He tosses his plate in the nearest trash can before sliding over to you again, his arm slipping around your waist easily, betraying nothing.

“Hyungs,” he starts, glancing at you and nodding once. Let the show begin. “YN-ah is actually, um… my girlfriend.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you see Yoongi sit up. That got his attention, it seems. 

A hush falls over the room, even the eyes of the staff members within earshot widening in response to Jeongguk’s announcement. Oh shit, you think. Please let this go well.

“Since when?” Taehyung asks, curiosity piqued. Thankfully, though, he doesn’t seem upset by the new information. At least, not as far as you can tell.

“Well, um,” Jeongguk starts, tonguing nervously at his lip ring. He pulls you closer so you’re practically curled against his chest now, and you silently pray that the way you’re looking at him reads as sweet and not like you’re about to jump out of your skin. “It’s actually been a few months now… Since right before the tour, actually.”

“Right before the tour?” Jimin asks, his brow furrowing in obvious confusion. “So you’ve been doing long distance?”

Jeongguk glances at you, a soft smile pulling at the corners of his mouth. “Yeah, it was bad timing on my part,” he says, his eyes fixed on yours. Damn. If he didn’t have such great pipes, you’d say he should’ve gone into acting. He’s male lead material. “I just couldn’t leave without telling her how I felt.”

You wish that you could do or say literally anything useful instead of just clinging to Jeongguk’s side like a barnacle. This is supposed to be a joint effort, but you feel frozen in place, unable to find your voice. It’s a good thing Jeongguk seems to be pulling it off all on his own.

“So cute,” Taehyung coos, bumping his shoulder against Jimin’s conspiratorially. “Our Jeonggukie’s all grown up and in love.”

“He’s always been a romantic,” Jimin joins in, miming at wiping fake tears as if he’s a proud parent. He reaches out and grabs your hands, startling you. “Please take care of him.”

“Hyuuuungs,” Jeongguk whines, tearing his arm away from you to whack Jimin and Taehyung on their heads simultaneously. “You’re going to scare her away!”

“Doubtful,” Yoongi says from where he’s still seated on the couch. Oh, so he does speak. It’s the first time you’ve heard his voice all night. It’s low, raspier in person than in the videos you’ve seen online. His words are directed at Jeongguk, but when you turn your head to look at him you find that his gaze is fixed on you. Your pulse spikes at the discovery. “I don’t think anything could scare her away from you, Guk-ah.”

The words themselves are innocuous, even supportive, but something about the way he says them makes your gut twist. Nobody else seems put off by it, but you can tell something’s not right. You have to say something, to open your mouth and speak. You have to pull this off, for Jeongguk.

“I’m not going anywhere,” you say, forcing a smile. You manage to tear your gaze away from Yoongi, looking back at Jeongguk. He’s grinning down at you, and it’s real, even if the pretense of it isn’t. Your smile becomes a little less forced in return.

★ ★ ★

Jimin and Taehyung are insistent that you stick around and celebrate for a while, so you do. You end up enjoying yourself, despite the weird moment with Yoongi. 

Jimin and Taehyung are fun to be around, just like Jeongguk said they would be, although conversation between the three of them becomes a little hard for you to follow sometimes. They just talk so fast. 

They ask you questions about your job, your friends, your family. They also tease Jeongguk relentlessly in front of you and seem all too thrilled to find out that you’re their noona. You find it surprising how easily you open up to them, but it just… happens. Just like it did with Jeongguk when you first met.

You relax enough to convince yourself that your perceived pointed nature of Yoongi’s words earlier was all in your head. Surely, he couldn’t have a problem with you when he doesn’t even know you. Jeongguk told you himself that Yoongi’s a quiet guy. Maybe that was his own way of telling you he approves of you. He hasn’t said or done anything since to make you think otherwise. Granted, he hasn’t said or done anything, period.

Once he arrives, you meet Namjoon, Burn The Stage’s manager. Jeongguk told you a little bit about him, but it was mostly just thinly-veiled thirsting. Now you see why.

He clarifies right off the bat that he already knows who you are, which saves you the anxiety of having to go through the whole routine again, and then he apologizes for being late.

“I was talking to reporters. I wanted the guys to be able to celebrate without having to do any interviews,” he explains as he shakes your hand with a dimpled smile. Damn. Yeah, you don’t blame Jeongguk one bit.

After a while, the champagne catches up with you and you have to excuse yourself to the bathroom.

The staff member that was dabbing Jeongguk’s sweat earlier—Minji, you learn—directs you out of the dressing room and to the nearest women’s bathroom further down the hallway. 

You try to make it as quick as possible, much tipsier than you thought and all the more unstable in these shoes because of it. After one last check of your hair and makeup in the mirror, you make your exit, focusing down at your feet as you go.

Unfortunately, you run headfirst into someone’s chest in the process. Hands come up to grab your elbows, steadying you before you fall flat on your face. For a second, you think maybe Minji had been waiting to escort you back to the dressing room, but these are not a woman’s hands holding you up. Wait a second, you think. You definitely saw these ring-clad fingers displayed on a huge screen earlier. Strumming at a guitar, perhaps?

In a moment of amazing mental clarity on your part considering the state you’re in, you realize that these are Min Yoongi’s hands, and your head snaps up to look up at him.

“Yoongi-ssi! I’m so sorry!” You quickly right yourself to the best of your ability, pressing your hand to the wall next to you for support.

Once he’s sure you can hold yourself up without his help, Yoongi instantly retracts his hands, crossing his arms over his chest. “I should’ve been looking where I was going,” you add, doing your best to bow in apology without losing your balance again.

Yoongi tilts his head at you as if he’s assessing you, his gaze inscrutable. Man, for a lyricist this guy isn’t big on words. You’re just about to politely say goodbye and head back to the dressing room when he finally speaks.

“I’ve spent the past hour trying to figure out what your angle could possibly be, but I’m coming up short.”

Um. What?

“Huh?” you manage, blinking at Yoongi like he’s suddenly grown a second head.

“It’s not like your career’s in any trouble. Nobody thinks you're Korea’s angel or anything, but your shit reputation hasn’t stopped you from getting brand deals,” Yoongi continues, scoffing to himself. “Are you just bored? Is this what you do to amuse yourself?”

Uh oh. He knows. He knows for sure, and even worse, he thinks that you’re the mastermind.

“I seriously have no idea what you’re talking about,” you say, forcing your voice to remain level. You don’t even try to defend your reputation. It’s not like he’s wrong. 

“Right,” Yoongi says, leaning in a little closer, like he’s about to tell you a secret. “Well, a word of advice. If you want people to buy that you’re really in love with Jeongguk, you could try to look less like you’re going to throw up when he touches you.”

FUCK. You thought you pulled it off. You thought you pulled it off, and now here’s Jeongguk’s goddamn hero telling you point-blank that you didn’t. You wrack your brain trying to think of anything you could possibly say to defend yourself, to get this guy off your ass, because this cannot be your fault. You’d never forgive yourself.

“I—”

“Or,” Yoongi starts, cutting you off. “You could just cut the bullshit and leave Jeongguk alone.” He pauses, rubbing his chin as if he’s pretending to think about it and then nodding once. “Yeah, let’s go with that one.”

Jesus Christ he’s a piece of work. You feel your fists clench at your sides, your nails digging painfully into your palms. You just got your nails done, and there’s a strong possibility you’ll draw blood, but it’s all you can do not to strangle this asshole right here and leave Burn The Stage without a guitarist.

“Yoongi-ssi,” you say, your words dripping with fake politeness. Fuck this guy, actually. “I don’t know what I’ve done to give you such a bad impression of me, but I assure you that Jeongguk and I are very much in love.”

“How many times do I have to tell you I don’t buy it?” Yoongi asks, voice tinged with impatience. “You may have everyone else in that room fooled, but not me, and if you hurt Jeongguk I can guarantee it won’t end well for you.”

“You don’t know anything about me,” you snap. “Again, I don’t know what the fuck I’ve done to make you think so poorly of me, but I meant what I said in there. I’m not going anywhere.”

You need to remove yourself from this interaction right now before you do something stupid like burst into tears. You take the opportunity to push past Yoongi before he gets a chance to say anything else, making sure to essentially shoulder check him in the process because again, fuck this guy.

You stalk down the hallway, feeling much more sober now. It’s as if all of the alcohol got forcibly drained from your system in the face of total fucking disaster, and you’re honestly thankful for it, because the last thing you need is this asshole seeing you actually fall.

For a moment, you’re fooled into thinking you’d successfully ended the conversation, but of course he needs the last word.

“I know more about you than you think, dollface.”

Dollface? The fuck?

You chance a glance behind you and you immediately regret it. Yoongi leans against the wall where you left him, an amused smirk spread over his face, and the sight immediately fills you with dread, a type of primal panic you haven’t felt in four years flooding your senses.

He doesn’t… He couldn’t know about that. There’s no possible way. Jeongguk doesn’t even know about that. Nobody does, because you’ve done everything in your meager power to keep it that way.

You whip your head back around to face front, your heels clacking on the crusty linoleum beneath them as you continue down the hallway. Don’t look back, you think. He doesn’t know. 

You’re thankful that you brought your bag with you to the bathroom, because you’re very much not in the mood for a party now. Once you’re safely outside, you call your car and send a text to Jeongguk explaining your sudden escape. You felt sick, you tell him. 

It’s not like it’s a lie. 

Yoongi loves being on stage.

Over the past few years, there’s been a noticeable change in his demeanor. He’s become passive, apathetic to the normal day-to-day that comes with being a celebrity. Nothing really wows him anymore.

He remembers the way he reacted to the accommodations the band received when they first got signed. He was way too scared to ask for things at first, but the label gave it all to him anyway.

For instance, Yoongi’s always been particular about his stationery. The first time he filled a notebook after getting signed, he didn’t even think to consider it a company expense. Why would he? He was fully capable of buying his own shit, even if he had to save up for it. Sure, every time he had to write a lyric down on the back of a receipt his eye would twitch, but it wasn’t anything he hadn’t done before.

But the label guys noticed. Before he even had a chance to buy his next batch of notebooks and pens, he was sat down in a spacious meeting room and asked point-blank what he needed. When Yoongi gave them specifics—Leuchtturm 1917 unlined hardcover pocket journals and a fuckton of Uni-Ball Jetstream Premier pens—they didn’t even bat an eye. When he—rightfully—warned them that he might strangle someone if he’s handed a gel pen instead of a ballpoint, they just assured him that wouldn’t happen.

Ever since then, there’s been an endless supply of exactly what he needs, always within reach. He’s still grateful for that, of course, because he goes through those fuckers fast. But it’s just a fact of his life now. It’s not special to get his fucking Leuchtturms anymore, not when he could douse his entire supply with gasoline and burn it on a whim and still have a fresh one in his hand within mere minutes.

And it’s not just journals and pens.

Namjoon is the band’s representative. Yoongi picked him personally long before there was any contract, or even hope for one, and if everything were to go to shit tomorrow, Namjoon would still be there. But after the single from their second album charted on the Billboard Hot 100, a label-equivalent to Namjoon was hired, as if anybody could ever be equivalent to Namjoon. Park Hyunseok. Park Hyunseok, whose sole duty is to buzz around Yoongi and his bandmates like a pesky fly and “make sure they’re happy.” They quite literally want for nothing.

Yoongi remembers when his skin used to buzz with the emotions simmering just under the surface. He was fiery in his youth, pissed off and ready to prove a point. He felt everything strongly, fully.

Not so much these days. Anger is only marketable for so long, or so he’s been told.

For the past year, Yoongi’s felt numb to the world. And he’s dealt with it, of course. That’s what he does. The album did great, the tour sold out, the boys are happy. That’s really all that matters. He just doesn’t know how he’s going to write another fucking album if he’s got nothing to write about anymore.

Still, he loves being on stage. There’s nothing like it. It never gets old, never gets boring. He still hasn’t gotten used to the feeling of stepping onstage and feeling a crowd scream his name, scream his lyrics right back at him. Lyrics to songs that he wrote in his shoebox apartment when he was eighteen and it felt like nobody gave a fuck about him. Funny how things change.

Nobody can take that feeling away from him, even if they’ve taken all the other ones.

It’s been a good night. It feels good to be back in Seoul after being away for months, feels even better to be on this particular stage again. Yoongi always feels keyed up after a good show, itching to do something with all of the energy thrumming through his body, and tonight is no different. He’s almost giddy with the opportunity to celebrate this tour with his bandmates and Namjoon and then go home and crash. Home. Fuck, it’s a good night. He has a hot date with his king size bed.

But then you.

It’s been years since you’ve even been a thought in Yoongi’s brain, and he liked it that way. Unfortunately, it’s apparently true what they say: all good things must come to an end.

Yoongi sees right through you. He's met so many of your type in his life that even if he hadn’t met you before he would’ve been able to sniff you out the second you walked backstage. Users. Social climbers. The bored and braindead looking for their next toy. The exact kind of person he’s been trying to protect Jeongguk from this whole time, and now you’re on his arm. 

And whatever, a hookup is one thing. Yoongi frankly doesn’t give a fuck where Jeongguk decides to stick his dick. The less he knows the better on that front. But a relationship? No, it isn’t real. Yoongi knows that much. Maybe it is for Jeongguk, but not for you. He's never even heard Jeongguk, hopeless romantic extraordinaire, talk about you.

Jeongguk introduces you as his girlfriend, and suddenly it’s like Yoongi’s watching a car crash in slow motion. He prays that he’s not alone, that Jimin and Taehyung have caught on to your piss-poor acting skills—seriously, you look like you’re about to pass out—but it looks like Yoongi’s entirely alone on this one. You have them wrapped around your little finger with minimal effort. He has a feeling that comes as naturally to you as breathing.

Of course, Yoongi has the added displeasure of having met you before, way back when. When you had the chance to be somebody, before you pissed it away, to what? To pout in front of a camera for a living? He thought he’d run out of ways to be wrong about you four years ago, but clearly you just can’t help yourself.

And of course you don’t remember him. Why would you?

Yoongi knows Jeongguk better than anybody. He also knows that thing people say about teenagers is true. If you tell them not to do something, they’ll only want to do it more. Jeongguk may be a grown man now, but he’s stubborn as fuck, and he never grew out of that. If he goes to Jeongguk and flat-out tells him that his girlfriend is a piece of human garbage, Jeongguk will only date her harder.

He tries to control the infection at the source by confronting you directly, but it’s clear the fire that he thought you lacked is, in fact, there, if only to piss Yoongi off.

“I’m not going anywhere,” you say.

Okay.

If that’s how you want to play, Yoongi can fucking play. He’s going to make you wish you’d left Jeongguk alone when he gave you the chance.

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[dumpywrites]

Cat-astrophe - Min Yoongi / Suga

Summary: Your pet cat keeps going to your neighbor’s apartment and it’s a problem. 

Genre/tags: Fluff-ish, strangers to ???, minor mention of anxiety.

Pairing: Yoongi x she/her reader

a/n: cus we're all soft for long haired Yoongi, right? hehe

It had been officially a month since you had moved to a new apartment place. You loved the new place honestly. It was cozy and the neighborhood looked nice. There were many convenience store nearby and the street was always still busy until late at night, making you feel a little bit of secure when coming home late.

While the place was nice it had one tiny downside. It was rather on the far side from your workplace. It took you an hour of bus ride just to get home from the office, so some days could be more tiring than others. And today was one of those tiring days. 

It was around nine at night on a Monday. Having to work overtime for the deadline and missed the bus, really dreaded you out. You were both tired and hungry, arriving home only to find that your pet cat was missing. It really just was not your day.

To say you were panicking would be a bit of an understatement. Cookie was barely a four month-old cat and had a very tiny body. All the negative possibilities start filling your head and you were horrified by all of them. Not to mention how it was basically forbidden to bring pets in the apartment complex. It was one of the policies but you couldn't help it since Cookie was a rescue.

When you arrived at your apartment lobby with a cat snack on your hand, there wasn’t that many people there. You walked past a guy by the front desk, who had medium-length black locks and fair skin, with headphones dangling on his neck. You began to call your pet’s name as soon as you were outside the lobby, but suddenly you felt a light tap on your shoulder. 

“Are you looking for a small black Bombay cat?” It was the same guy who just walked past you.

“Oh my god, I am! Have you seen him???” You said, your voice was a little bit shaky. 

“He’s in my place, I’m on the seventh.” 

“Oh, me too!”

“I know.”

“Oh.” You said, surprised at how stoic he sounded saying that, but didn’t further question him on it. “I’m so sorry for bothering you, can I go get him now?”

“Sure, I was just gonna go up as well.”

When you both entered the elevator, you made a mental note to ask his name or at least introduce yourself. He was a neighbor after all. It was pretty silent inside the lift and you just hoped he didn’t hear your stomach rumbling ever so slightly. You took a deep breath, bearing the hunger for a little while. 

When the elevator door opened you followed him from behind as he led you to his door. When he stopped at his front door, your eyes were widened in shock. 

“You live next to me?!” 

“Yeah.” He said casually and unlocked the door. "I've seen you multiple times."

You chose to not further question and followed him but stopped when you had only took two steps in, because technically, the homeowner had not really officially permit you to come in. The guy seemed to notice how you just stood awkwardly and looked back. 

“You can sit down for a sec, I’ll go get him.” 

“Oh, right… yeah. Thank you.” You said awkwardly and walked to sit on his couch. 

A few seconds later the man came back with your cat in his embrace. Cookie was clinging on his tshirt before he tugged him and gave him onto your lap. 

“Cookie!” You called, almost teary. 

“I think he jumped from your balcony to mine. Make sure to close your balcony door next time.”

“Thank you so much, I owe you… uh…”

“Yoongi.” 

“Thank you, Yoongi.” You repeated and introduced yourself in return. “I’m Y/N, and if you ever need anything please let me now.” You said as you stood up, already making your way out. 

“Also, thank you for not reporting it…”

“No problem.” Was all the guy said and by this point you figured he was not much of a talker. 

You bid your goodbye to your neighbor, which only gained a small nod before he closed the door on you. You walked to your door and let Cookie down as soon as you got inside. Sighing deeply, you began to feel your stomach rumble again, this time it rumbled quite loudly. Your feet were aching from standing on the bus and now your body finally got on how tired you were. 

Cookie meowed and immediately went to his cat bed and laid down. You sighed and smiled at the small creature. 

“You little rascal… you’re lucky I love you.” 

You then went to your kitchen to cook yourself some instant ramen. 

The next day you went to work and had to take another overtime. Unfortunately you had to for the rest of the week until your current project was done. It was exhausting but you had to make it and mostly thinking about the bonus pay from it helped quite a bit. You spent the next few days the same, repeating the schedules, and the tiring work. 

It was almost ten at night that you arrived home and found out Cookie had gone missing again. For some reason your first instinct was to knock on your next door, in hope the neighbor who once helped you, could lend you a hand again, and hoping maybe Cookie just ran to his place again instead of being gone somewhere where it wasn't safe for him.

You knocked on the door and didn’t get immediate answer. You waited for what felt like five minutes, before the door opened and you were greeted with the sight of your neighbor with wet hair. He had a small white towel around his neck and the hoop earring that you saw him with before was absent. His skin looked glowing, you probably needed to ask about his skin care routine later.

“So sorry to interrupt you, I was wondering if Cookie might have gone to your place again?” 

“He’s right there on the couch.” He casually pointed. His expression was straight and had you wondering if he did not mind it, bothered, or simply didn’t care. 

You slowly walked to approach your cat and bent down to its level. “Cookie, you need to stop this…” You tapped the cat's nose, as if scolding the poor cat would do anything. 

“He jumped to my balcony again, did you forget to close the door?” 

“But I made sure to close it this morning…” You looked at your neighbor, who walked closer to inspect the cat. 

“I think he knows how to turn door knobs, since he’s quite a jumper. You need to lock the door.” 

“I can’t believe this little demon…” You sighed, fingers still stroking the purring cat. 

“He’s… alright.” 

You were slightly taken aback by the response and looked up to him, but much to your disappointment, his expression still looked the same. You were about to get up and excuse yourself, but you notice a small steel bowl under his dining table, half full with what you assumed to be cat milk (I mean, it would be weird if it was his, duh!). 

“You also have a cat?”

His eyes followed yours. “Oh, that. I got it the first time Cookie came here, I figured he must be thirsty since he came in around noon time.” 

“That’s… that’s very nice of you.” You looked at him and smiled. Somehow him addressing your cat by his name sounded lovely. 

“You can have the rest of the milk if you want, since you’ve figured out how he escaped and all…” 

“It’s okay, you can keep it! Just in case he ran into you again…” You chuckled but then stopped after realizing how that just sounded like you did not mind troubling him with your cat continuously. “I mean… I’m sorry, I’ll make sure he’ll never escape again.” 

“It’s alright, I’ll keep the milk for now.” He paused for a second, rubbing the back of his neck. “Just in case.”

You looked at your neighbor and couldn’t help but to feel all warm inside. He seemed like a nice person and from the looks of it he also liked your cat. 

“Thank you so much, Yoongi. I’ll be taking this little guy here then...” You smiled at him and stood up with Cookie in your arms. 

“I got some dim sum…” 

You looked at the guy questioningly. 

“Do you maybe want some?” 

“That’d be too much, it’s okay, you go ahead and eat.” You politely declined. Although you were hungry, you could bring yourself to bother your neighbor any more than what you had done. 

“Have you eaten?” 

“Y-yeah?” You asked, afraid you heard it wrong. 

“Have you eaten?” He repeated. “If not, then I insist you take some.”

“I…” You wanted to lie, but at this point it would come off as rude if you refuse him again. “I actually haven’t. Thank you very much though, I feel so bad that you’re being this nice to me.”

“You can just eat them here.” 

“I don’t wanna disturb—“ You were awkwardly cut by the sound of your stomach rumbling. 

“You’re not disturbing me.” He cleared his throat and looked away. 

That was embarrassing. 

And that was how you ended up sitting down on your neighbor’s dining table, eating dim sums. 

In silence. 

This Yoongi guy really did not like conversation it seemed. He was sitting down on his couch and had turned the TV on. The volume was on but not quite loudly, and Cookie was on his lap, sleeping as he occasionally stroked the cat’s head softly. Funny that somehow you could see some resemblance of Yoongi with your cat.

“So… how long have you lived here?” You bit your bottom lip as you waited for his answer. You kind of regretted asking as soon as the words came out from your mouth, afraid it would be awkward. 

“Around ten months or so.” He paused. “No, I think it’s been almost a year cause I spent two months overseas.”

“Really? What were you doing overseas?” You regretted asking again. Looking at how quiet Yoongi was, you didn’t want to ask too much or indulge into too much conversation, afraid it would be too much for him. 

But much to your surprise, he answered. “I’m a producer. I was working for this artist and all the work had to be done in America.” 

“Wow, that sounds amazing!” You said. At this point you no longer were sitting facing the table, but to him. “Who was the artist?”

“Uh… Halsey.” He replied while looking at the TV screen, seemingly to avoid your stare.

“Oh my god???” You gasped. “That’s incredible! So you’re like crazy talented?!”

“I’m alright…” 

“You should show me some of your work someday!” You said enthusiastically. When Yoongi did not reply to it and stayed silent, you cursed yourself internally. “I mean compared to what I do that’s like really amazing.” You chuckled nervously. 

“I’m sure you’re great at what you do.” He looked at you, a small smile was on his lips. 

You realized it was the first time you saw him smile and it made your heart raced rather faster than usual. It was the first time you saw him with facial expression other than his usual poker face. 

“I’m just a normal product designer at a very normal company.” You shrugged. 

“Don’t downplay yourself like that. You work very hard.” 

“Thanks…” You replied shyly. 

After finishing your food, you got up and went to wash the dishes, which immediately got stopped by the homeowner. He politely told you to go back home and rest. Which again, you could not thank him more for. 

You took your pet in your arms and said your goodbyes to your neighbor. Right when you arrived back in your place you came to realize something. Yoongi did not eat with you and there was only one portion of the food. While it could just meant he had already eaten beforehand, you felt giddy, thinking about another possibility. Was this a crush you sense forming? Frankly speaking, you could not care less. You were welcoming the possibility with open arms.

— 

Friday finally came and you were ready to take it in. The days of working with your company project was going to an end, which meant you no longer need to work overtime after this. The thought of it put you in a very good mood. 

This time right after arriving home, you walked to a nearby chicken restaurant and grab some not only for you, but also for your neighbor. You wanted to repay his kindness the past few days. After changing into some comfortable clothes, not to mention the multiple times you had to re-check the outfit in the mirror for some reason, you took your cat in your left hand and the food in the other. You knocked on your neighbor’s door hoping he was home. 

And he was. You were greeted with his silence but he opened the door wider as soon as he saw your face without question. One thing that caught your eyes though was how he was dressed up like he was ready for a night out. He wasn’t in his usual sweatpants and baggy t-shirt, but instead in a ripped wide legged jeans and a light blue shirt, unbuttoned, with a plain white tee underneath. He looked handsome. And here you were, in your so-called comfy outfit that you were starting to regret.

“Before you ask, no, Cookie’s right here.” You smiled awkwardly as you raised the small cat in your hand for him to see. “I’m just here to drop by some chicken I got for you… as a thanks for your help these past few days.” You handed the plastic of food to him. “Alright, that’s all…”

He took the food from you hesitantly. “You don’t wanna come in?” 

“Aren’t you going out or something?”

“I was… but you are here.” He said, sounding unsure. 

“That’s ridiculous, why would I stop you from going out?”

“I was gonna go to your place…” 

Your mouth formed a small O shape, unable to form a word. He was going to your place? But what for??? The butterflies in your stomach were having a blast. 

“But you’re all dressed up…”

“I was gonna change back.” He sighed, running his hand through his hair, which made you gulped at the sight. “I knew this was a bad idea I shouldn't have listened to Hoseok—”

You stopped his rambling. “What do you mean?”

“I was gonna ask you if you wanted to go eat together at that one Chicken restaurant nearby…”

“Oh.” You widened your eyes.

“Yeah.” He looked at you, biting his cheek in annoyance. 

“This is awkward.” You chuckled. 

“Whatever, just… just come in first.”

You saw Yoongi putting the plastic of food on his table. You offered help after putting down your cat on his couch and walked to his direction. Both of you plated the food in comfortable silence, it felt oddly domestic and you liked it. At this point you were used to him being not talkative and see it as his charm. 

After you took the plates to the living room, Yoongi suddenly came back with cans of beers and soju in his hands. 

“We’re drinking?” You said with an amused grin. 

“You can drink, right?” 

“Sure, but can you?” You playfully eyed him. 

“Don’t challenge me.” 

You could see how he was trying to hide his smile, and it brought colors to your cheeks. 

—

You did not know how you got in this situation. Five episodes in randomly rewatching Avatar The Last Airbender and you both were drunk. You were resting your head on his shoulder as you watch the screen. It seemed like the booze gave you confidence, or made you shameless, or both, but the guy didn’t complain so it could be a sign of a good thing. While you could see Yoongi holding his alcohol better than you, he was not completely sober either. 

It was at this very moment where you saw things through a pink tinted lense. Had Yoongi’s hair always looked that soft? Had he always looked this handsome? You began to question things you should not be questioning.

“Why didn’t you change your clothes?” You randomly asked. 

“Do I look bad?” He replied, eyes still on the screen, hands stroking the sleeping cat on his lap. 

"Of course not, I just feel severely underdressed now..." You chuckled.

He eyed you from top to bottom, which made you nervous, but he shrugged, seemingly to not have any problem with your clothes.

“You look… handsome.”

“You think I look handsome?” He suddenly moved to face you, making you move to look at him as well. The tone of his voice sounded like he was teasing more than asking a question.

You nodded and bit your lips. “And you kinda look like Cookie.” You giggled. 

He raised one of his eyebrows, clearly not satisfied with your answer. 

“Your eyes…” You began to ramble. “They look just like Cookie’s, and when you look annoyed, or just your plain expression… you look like a cute cat.” 

“Really…” Yoongi hummed. 

“Yup!” You giggled like an idiot. 

You failed to notice how at this point, Yoongi has put Cookie down from his lap to the floor. His face only inches away from you as you kept rambling. 

“Your hair look so soft… like a cat’s fur.” You reached your hands closer to his hair, but stopped mid-way, scared he’d get uncomfortable. 

Yoongi surprised you again by grabbing both of your wrist and putting your hands on his hair, letting you stroke his head slowly. You saw his expression softened and as you kept playing with his hair, he closed his eyes. You swore you heard him purr. 

“Pretty.” You said with a drunk smile. 

“Hmm. Pretty.” He mirrored. 

“Okay, call me crazy but why do I kinda wanna kiss you right now.” You said, totally losing the battle with your common sense. 

Yoongi chuckled. “You’re crazy.” He ran his fingers through his hair, looking to the right. “I like it.” 

—

To be frank, you could not recall what happened after. You recalled some bits of karakoe-ing? Singing random PSY songs in your broken Korean using a bottle of whiskey as your mic. That was probably all? You couldn’t think while the throbbing headache was present in the room with you.

So why were you now in a bed that was not yours, wearing a t-shirt that was too big for you and was clearly not yours, also for heaven’s sake, WHY IS YOONGI SLEEPING NEXT TO ME??? 

You froze. Did you??? There was no way. Sure you found him attractive and all, and you definitely had this huge crush on him, but you couldn’t just sleep with a guy you barely knew. Besides your headache, your body didn’t feel any pain, so that was probably a good sign. What if he was just that gentle? Okay, you need to stop thinking at once before you started a whole fiction about you and Yoongi in your head.

When you turned your back, you felt the other side of the bed shifted as well. 

“You’re up?” He asked with a raspy voice. 

“Yeah.” You said, still back-facing him. “We didn’t… you know…”

“No, we didn’t.”

“Oh, okay good.”

Yoongi did not answered to that, but instead you felt him scooting closer. 

“I’m sorry, this isn’t probably how you’d wanna spend your weekend.” You chuckled. 

Your breath hitched when you felt a hand over your waist. “Is this okay?” He suddenly stopped when your body tensed at his touch. 

You nodded, heart beating too loudly for you to form any sentence. 

“This is nice.” He said, resting his forehead on your back. 

When you stayed silent, he took your hand and turned you over to face him. Heat immediately took over your body as soon as your eyes meet. You noticed he was back in his usual home attire, oversized tee and sweatpants. His hair was messy, but it seemed like universe had its favorite cause he still looked good. 

“You know, I haven’t had good sleep in… weeks.”

You were surprised by his sudden confession.

“It’s half past eleven now, and it’s not even ten minutes after I woke up…” He tittered. “My anxiety has been getting worse the past month and out of nowhere a black cat suddenly jumped to my balcony, meowing non-stop while I was working.”

You looked at him, letting him finish his talk. This was the most words you had ever heard coming out of Yoongi’s mouth and it made your heart flutter. 

“I haven’t been caring. I’ve stopped caring, for a while now. Seeing you care so much for such a small creature… I don’t know, it feels good. It makes me wanna care.”

“Yoongi…” You cooed, caressing his cheek. "It's not true, all you have been since I first met you until this moment, was caring."

"I'm sorry if it feels like it came out of nowhere but I feel at home with you and I don’t know why...” He tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. “Yet, at least.”

“I… like this too. A lot actually.” You said shyly. 

“I would like to get to know you more if you’d like.” He was being honest and exactly to the point, no flirty bullshit to spice his sentences.

“I’d love that...” 

Suddenly you heard a low meow from under the bed and Cookie jumped into the bed, joining you two. Apparently his bedroom door was left opened and none of you noticed how Cookie had entered. You giggled and he smiled as well, the widest smile and the most genuine you had ever seen from him, as he took the cat and cuddled both of you close.

"I think it's about time you give me your number..." You squinted at him playfully. "You know, so we don't repeat the whole chicken restaurant accident again?"

“Okay, but promise me first you won’t apologize again after kissing me.” He chuckled. 

“EXCUSE ME WHAT???”

— 

“Okay, call me crazy but why do I kinda wanna kiss you right now.” You said, totally losing the battle with your common sense. 

Yoongi laughed. “You’re crazy.” He ran his fingers through his hair, looking to the right. “I like it.” 

“I can be crazier if you open that whiskey.” You wiggled your eyebrows.

Yoongi just shook his head, smiling at your silliness. He stood up and went to grab his Hibiki anyway, which earned a shout of celebration from you. 

Things escalated quickly after opening the bottle. Somehow you were starting a drunk karaoke session which followed by many dance breaks. You ended up crying when a sad song randomly came up in the playlist and when Yoongi asked why, you replied. You replied with your lips on his.

In your head it just made sense. It was his lips’ fault for looking so juicy. Yeah, totally his fault for looking so hot that it was driving you insane.

None of you moved and it only lasted seconds before your mood turned sour again. 

“I’m so sorry I didn’t mean…” You pushed him gently. “Oh my god, you’re so gonna hate me!!!”

“Hey, calm down…“ 

You started to panic, tears now forming in your eyes again. “Please don’t hate me, I just wanted to kiss you…” You cried. 

“Okay, I think that’s enough drinking—“

And you puked. 

Yes, Yoongi did see your lilac colored bra when he helped you change into his t-shirt. But that’s a secret between him and little Cookie. 

Thank you for reading! 💎

part 2 is here!

[kooqitas]

#pairing: brothers-friend!yoongi x reader.

#genre: smut MINORS DNI | #w.c: ~1500

#synopsis: your brother ended up forcing his friend to come to your house and give you tutoring… but the class wasn't exactly what he wants

#warnings: vaginal sex, unprotected sex, fingering, praise kink, humiliation, nipple play, overstimulation.

#notes: not proofread, english isn’t my first language! 

★ m.list | inbox :D ;; taglist

you wanted to kill jungkook when you heard that he had asked yoongi to help you with your art history class, you knew that he had finished his college course last year and you were just starting, of course min yoongi was the best person to help you.

but, he is min yoongi.

you hated min yoongi, the (now) history teacher was your brother's friend since the beginning of college, at that time you had just started high school, now, a few years later, yoongi was a teacher at a children's school while you did some extracurricular courses beyond college.

min yoongi was always insufferable, he always treated you like his 'best friend's little sister' in the worst sense of the word, and it didn't help one bit when he started getting absurdly… hot. you would never admit it out loud, but damn, min yoongi was fucking hot the last few years. now that you sometimes went out together (because of your brother) you always hoped that when yoongi took you home, since jungkook always ends up with some random girl, he would finally see you as a woman...

you rolled your eyes when you heard the door open, min yoongi had the password so he didn't even bother to knock.

“good night, princess! your brother is going to the party and left me with the punishment of helping you."

"you can leave if you want, min yoongi! i’m not keeping you here" you answered.

he rolled his own eyes, placing some books on the table and sitting on the couch to help you.

a few hours passed, and the truth is that it was unbearable to be next to yoongi, he was unbearably intelligent... and hot, fucking hot. the tension of being in the same environment as yoongi was driving you crazy, he was smug and it irritated you, especially when he asked arrogantly how you didn't know about something.

you knew yoongi was watching you, at the end of the day he was still a man and your thin shirt and shorts weren't the most decent outfit to wear at the moment, but it's not like you minded having his eyes on you.

but, to be honest, you like it… a lot…

at a certain point, yoongi stood behind your body, his chest touching your back, and that's when you realized that he wasn't just staring at you... yoongi was excited, whatever shit was going through his head.

“so dumb...” he chuckled in his ear, making you shiver a little from the warm air that hit you. "i think you need another way to understand things..."

"what are you-" you tried to question when yoongi slid the thin strap of your shirt down your shoulder, but before you could finish, his hand was on your nipple, his index finger gently passing there, which made you sigh. "what the fu-"

"your brother said i should teach you... but he didn't say what..." he chuckled, still pressing your nipple. "i'm gonna teach you how to cum on my cock."

your body shook, enough for him to notice and smile.

“yoongi stop it!” you scolded him, trying to pull the strap of your blouse up, but yoongi just stopped you, using his strength to continue squeezing the nipple of your breast that was already swollen in his hand while you moaned softly.

"stop? but you won't stop moaning, doll! i'm dying to touch that little body, you know? you've grown up and become so hot..."

yoongi lowered your shirt completely, exposing your two nipples, he took his fingers to the one that hadn't yet been touched, and added his thumb to the one he already had the touch of his index finger, squeezing and massaging there while laughing at every sly moan you made while tried to get away from him.

you wanted that like hell, just like him, but damn, jungkook would kill yoongi if he dreamed that he touched you like that, your brother hated your one-night stands because he knew someone was 'taking advantage' of his sister, now imagine him discovering that at that moment the person taking advantage of you was his best friend.

"stop trying to resist, i'll deal with your brother later..."

yoongi continued squeezing your nipples, while it was delicious it was torture, your panties got more and more wet and all you had was the simple touch of his fingerprints on you.

yoongi turned you around, and at that moment everything was lost, you had never seen his eyes so dark. but your exchange of glances didn't last long, seconds later he had his mouth on your nipple, wetting your entire pout with his saliva while you moved on his body.

"all of this because of a nipple suck? i think it's better if you don't cum just from that, it would be pathetic!" he laughs, leaving a bite that makes you grab his hair.

you couldn't respond, his touches being too much for you, and everything got worse when one of his hands went down to his shorts, taking advantage of the fact that they were thin just to pull them aside, along with his wet panties.

"of course a slut like you would be wet from just that, right?" he ran his finger all over your cunt, making every inch of you feel his fingers and shiver while he still sucked your nipple. "what would your brother think of that, hm? what would he say if he knew i am gonna finger that pussy now? do you think he would complain? would he get mad at me?" yoongi laughed, thrusting two fingers at once into you, deep inside, making you moan, clinging onto his shoulder. "he would probably say that i'm taking away his little sister's innocence, but what innocence?"

he inserted another finger, the rhythm becoming a little more violent as you also rubbed yourself against him, feeling his fingers go deep into you, the sound of your liquid being more audible than the loud moans you made.

"and i hope him forgive me, but from now on i'll do this all the time, and when i can't bring you in my car, i'll fuck you in the bathroom at the party, or in the dark corner, anywhere."

you saw him remove his fingers from you and then pull down your shorts and underwear, his fat cock jumping out making you salivate.fuck, the wet swollen glans made you desire yoongi even more, being full of him was the only thing that mattered now.

"the slut is happy that she's going to receive cock, isn't she?"

yoongi rubbed the head of his cock at your entrance, but he didn't enter you, he just stood there, rubbing, looking at your face while you moaned completely desperately asking him to enter you.

"that, beg me! show me how much that pussy needs my cock!"

“yoongi, fuck, please!” you moaned, body shaking as he rubbed his cock against you.

"does my whore need cock?”

"please!"

"your brother has no idea what a slut he has at home, right? thinking you're a saint, but you're nothing more than a little whore desperate to be filled."

"please..."

"please what?"

"fuck me, please yoongi"

he laughed, thrusting his dick into you, which made you choke at first, yoongi was big, nothing abnormal, but still big enough to fill you up. he went slow but deep, making you shiver every time the big dick hit your uterus.

“greedy little bitch” yoongi said as he increased his speed, his body rocking against the couch and your tits bouncing, yoongi laughed sadistically seeing the scene, seeing you squirm beneath him.

he sucked your nipple again, making you literally scream with pleasure, you had never felt anything like that.

"shut the fuck up, or all the neighbors will know you're get fucking by me!"

but you couldn't do it, the orgasm approaching in your belly, the fat cock opening you up and hitting the right spot, the hot tongue on your nipple, it was all too much, and yoongi realized.

yoongi removed his mouth from your nipple, only to slap them a few times, what was already red became even more so, and you could only scream in pleasure. yoongi clenched your jaw, making you open your mouth and then spitting there before finally kissing you.

"i should record this and show it to his brother, let him know that the little sister he cares for so much is a cumslut"

the wet, sloppy kiss, while he still hit you deep and fast, was enough to make you come, but yoongi didn't stop, even with your body shaking.

"a good slutty takes everything they give her." he kept thrusting, the overstimulation making your body react on its own and try to pull away as he fucked you harder and harder... you were going crazy and then yoongi finally came

you thought he was gonna stop, but what yoongi did was continue, watching his cum drip all over your leg and couch. and when his dick finally stopped leaking, he rubbed it against your clit, making you whimper softly as you came again...

“shit, jungkook is gonna kill you!”

"he might even kill me, but first i’m gonna fuck you a lot!" he said laughing, lowering his head to your pussy starting to eat you.

[kingofbodyrolls]

End of the World (m) | myg

→ Summary: Your government has been telling you to prepare for war, just as a precaution given the recent political changes around your country. Did you listen and prepare? No. Are you paying the price now, friends all but gone, and your city burned to pieces? Yes. Survival instincts kicking in, you search for a place to rest, nourish your battered and hungry body, only to find yourself at the porch of a stranger. Will he help you, or leave you to your own demise?  → Pairing: Yoongi x reader (female) → Genres/AUs: apocalyptic, survival, co-dependency to stay alive + heavy angst, fluff and smut with a very small sprinkle of comedy. → Tropes: strangers to lovers + forced proximity & only one bed (because I love that shit) → Rating: mature/explicit/R18 (this is mature/explicit content, so minors, please do not interact.) → Word count: 21.3k 🫣 → Warnings + triggers: nuclear war (bombings), fire, death (people are dying so and some minor side characters die), blood and wounds (also features a lot), period blood, ptsd behavior and reactions, hunger (no access to food), anxiety attacks, hyperventilation, guns and knifes, shooting, self defense, m*rder in self defense, exposure to radiation. Minor character deaths. The ending is open and bittersweet. The story is just really grim and angsty and sad (but also comforting) 🤷 → Warnings (explicit: smut): oral (f and m receiving), nipple play/sucking, fingering, multiple orgasms, hair pulling, dirty talk, pleasing kink, protected sex (it might be the end of the world, but fret not Yoongi’s got condoms!), clit play, cockwarming, kissing, a small scene of public sex (they are outside on a hill, np people around). → Author’s note(1): So I have mixed feelings about it and the smut got less detailed than what I usually write (because I’m getting a bit tired of smut honestly, so sorry if it sucks), and I’m scared of what you’ll think of it— but here it is! I felt a lot of pressure with it, so I had my husband beta-ing it 😂 Which gave us a lot of laughs! I hope you enjoy it ⭐ → Read on AO3? [link]

[navi]: end of the world // end of the world: a flickering hope // shower drabble // whalien52 // end of the world: epilogue

A deep, ominous rumbling reverberates through the silence, a sinister caress against your ears. 

Eyes shut tight, your breaths are slow and steady, an island of peace in a sea of unrest. But the tranquility shatters as the rumbling intensifies, transforming into a relentless quake that grips your bed. You jolt awake, eyes opening just in time to be seared by a blinding white flash, burning into your vision with a harsh, unforgiving light.

Your ears ring with an unforgiving high pitched sound that makes it feel like your ears are bleeding.

You flinch, squeezing your eyes shut once more, but the world doesn’t let you escape. 

A cacophony of rumbling, shaking, and distant, panicked screams erupts around you. 

When you dare to open your eyes again, your bedroom has transformed into a nightmarish landscape— no longer a safe, enclosed space, but exposed to the elements. The dark sky looms overhead, thick with acrid smoke. Everything is engulfed in an oppressive, inky gloom that seems so dark, dark, dark.

You curl into yourself on the bed, eyes wide as you take in the scene around you. It’s like a nightmarish tableau image from a dystopian survival movie: the once serene sky is now obliterated, suffocated by a churning ocean of thick, acrid smoke. Flames roar hungrily around you, casting an eerie, flickering light on the chaos. The air is thick with the sound of terrified screams and the relentless boom of destruction. Your breath comes in ragged gasps, your heart pounding furiously, as if it might burst from your chest at any moment.

The rumbling returns, more ominous this time, and you look up to see a fighter jet slicing through the smoke-choked sky. It releases a payload, and your heart clenches in dread. A deafening explosion follows as the bomb strikes, setting your ears ablaze again, and obliterating buildings and scarring the landscape. The screams of the people around you become a haunting symphony of terror. It feels like you’re trapped in an unending nightmare, each second more horrifying than the last.

You pinch yourself hard—so hard it breaks the skin, and a thin trail of blood trickles down. But the pain barely registers. You squeeze your eyes shut, then open them again, desperate to end the nightmare before you. This has to be a trick of the mind, an illusion, right? 

But the horrifying reality remains unchanged, pressing in on you from all sides.

No. It’s not a trick of the mind. 

The stark, horrifying reality sets in as your throat tightens and your body thrums with fear. This is real. This is happening—to you, to your friends—fuck. Your roommates. 

Panic seizes you as you leap off the bed, the house now a fragmented ruin, its sections strewn outside in the chaos. Heart pounding, you scramble through the wreckage, desperately searching for your friends amid the devastation.

Please, let them be okay—you can’t face this alone. 

You’re not prepared for this. 

You can’t do this. 

When the government warned about preparing for a potential war or a nuclear disaster, you thought it was a grim joke. You never believed it would actually happen—never believed it would happen to you. But now, the cold, harsh reality is crashing down around you, and the fear is suffocating.

Tears blur your vision, making it hard to see. The acrid air burns your lungs, and each breath is a struggle. The ringing in your head makes you dizzy. You cough violently, but you press on, driven by a desperate need to find your two roommates. You have to make sure they’re okay, no matter the cost.

A sound of coughing reaches your ears, and a wave of relief washes over you. You spot some of Hana’s belongings scattered on the ground, charred at the edges. The acrid smell of burnt fabric stings your nose. There, sprawled halfway on her bed, is Hana—coughing, crying, her eyes barely open, a picture of despair amid the wreckage.

“Hana?” you croak, your voice sounding strangled and unfamiliar, as if someone else is speaking. The dissonance sends your heart pounding even harder in your chest, the fear and urgency nearly overwhelming you.

She coughs again, crimson droplets falling from her lips, staining the ground beneath her. The sight of her blood on the ground sends a wave of dread through you. Rushing to her side, you assess her quickly; her complexion is pallid, drained of life. Each shallow breath she takes seems an agonizing struggle, as if the very act of breathing is draining her strength.

She struggles to speak, but you gently shake your head, tears streaming down your face. Deep down you know she won’t survive this. Your throat tightens painfully, a lump forming as you grasp the harsh reality. She’s not just a friend; she’s your best friend. Your hands tremble as you reach out, brushing away her tears, feeling the warmth of her blood on your fingertips. You don’t care about the stains. All you want is to offer her comfort, to reassure her even as your own doubts and tears blur your vision. 

How could any of this ever be okay?

How is this your reality?

She leans into your trembling hand, her eyelids fluttering closed as she takes her final breath. A wave of anguish washes over your face, and you collapse beside her, your forehead touching hers. The weight of grief presses down on you, a suffocating blend of fear, helplessness, and nausea.

The distant screams jolt you back to the present, your chest tight with anguish for your best friend. With a heavy heart, you tear yourself away, knowing there’s another roommate who needs your help—Yuri.

Tears sting your eyes as you navigate cautiously through the debris. Your gaze fixates on a pair of shoes—whether they belong to you or Hana doesn’t matter now. Snatching them up, you slide them onto your bare, blistered feet, grateful for any protection from the searing ground and jagged remnants of the house strewn about.

You locate Yuri swiftly amidst the chaos; her bewildered expression a fleeting moment of relief. Your heart leaps at the sight of her alive. Ignoring the acrid smoke that burns your lungs, you pull her into a tight embrace with both of you coughing violently in the toxic air.

“What happened?” Yuri’s voice rasps through fits of coughing. Her wide eyes reflecting fear and confusion, her pallid face etched with disbelief.

“I don’t know,” you cry out desperately, clinging to Yuri as if your life depends on it, unwilling to let go for fear she might vanish into the chaos. Your grip tightens, desperate to shield her from the crumbling world around you.

Then, in the distance, alarms pierce the air with a relentless wail. A chill races down your spine, and as you meet Yuri’s gaze, an unspoken understanding passes between you—this is no accident. War has come.

You never thought this day would come, always dismissing warnings from politicians as distant, improbable threats. But now, as reality crashes down around you, you realize you should have listened. You should have prepared for the worst, braced for the impossible. Panic grips you as you face the stark truth: there’s no escaping it now. What the hell are you supposed to do?

The distant drone of planes echoes through the sky once more, and a chill of dread courses through your trembling body. You never imagined you’d fear the sound of airplanes, but in these shifting times, everything has become a harbinger of uncertainty.

The cityscape around you lies in ruins with buildings shattered and strewn like broken toys. The urgency grips you as you realize the only option left: escape the city. 

Now.

“Yuri, we need to move,” you declare urgently, your eyes wide with dread—for the uncertain future, for your very survival. You curse under your breath, trying to quell the rising panic threatening to consume you.

Yuri’s eyes remain wide, almost vacant, as if she struggles to comprehend the shattered reality that surrounds you both—a new world, unfathomable and bleak.

You snap Yuri out of her stupor, dragging her along as you navigate through the shattered bathroom. The toilet lies in ruins on the ground, shards of the shower surround you like jagged teeth. Despite the chaos, you spot the first aid kit amidst the debris, knowing it will be crucial in this harsh new reality.

Yuri’s voice trembles as she blurts out, “We need to take those pills. In the pouch. I got them just in case. They’re potassium iodide pills and will protect your thyroid if there’s radioactive iodine in the bomb.” You hesitate for a moment, then nod in grim understanding. Snatching the pouch from its battered position, you fumble with it until you locate the pills. Each of you swallows one with a gulp, the bitter taste clinging to your tongue like a grim reminder of the world outside. With a heavy sigh, you tuck the pouch back into the depleted first aid kit.

“We need to find bags and gather anything useful,” you mutter. Your mind races in overdrive as you calculate what essentials are necessary for survival in this new reality.

Amidst the cacophony of screams and the encroaching flames, you and Yuri spring into action, scouring the wreckage for backpacks. They will be easier to carry when every ounce counts. Your hands shake as you rummage through the debris, grabbing water bottles, clothing, and anything else salvageable. Panic sets in, your heart pounding, realizing you need food too, right?

You trudge toward the kitchen, but it’s a wasteland—shattered glass, twisted metal, and the acrid smell of burnt remnants fill the air. Nothing remains salvageable, not even a scrap of food.

Panic surges through you. 

No food? 

How will you survive? 

The reality hits hard: you’ll need to scavenge for food while fleeing the city. The wreckage around you is overwhelming, casting doubt on finding anything edible. How long can a person endure without food? The question gnaws at your mind, amplifying your fear and uncertainty.

Deflated, you sigh, the weight of uncertainty pressing down on you. Survival seems impossible, but you force a hopeful smile as you reunite with Yuri, masking your despair. The world around you is shrouded in darkness and gloom, every step a reminder of the bleakness ahead.

Screams echo all around you, a relentless assault on your senses. You try to block them out, but it’s impossible—the anguished cries of the wounded, the desperate calls for loved ones, the raw agony and fear permeate the air. 

It’s unbearable; a living nightmare.

You ache to grieve for your friend, but there’s no time to stand still, no time to mourn what’s lost. With a heavy heart, you force yourself not to look back at Hana’s lifeless form. Grabbing Yuri’s hand, you push ahead, driven by a single, desperate resolve: to escape this hellish city. And fast.

Your body shivers despite the fires warming the air slightly. It’s still cold in the middle of September. You glance down at yourself, taking in your attire—a satin nightgown, its lacy seams stained with blood. But you can’t afford to care, nor do you have time to change. Your sole focus is to escape this hellscape, to put as much distance as possible between you and the burning city before worrying about anything else.

You pull Yuri away from the remnants of your house, each step deliberate as you navigate the treacherous debris. The ground is a minefield of twisted metal and shattered glass, and you can’t afford an injury. 

Your heart races and your body shivers uncontrollably, but you force yourself to push forward. The streets are a nightmarish landscape of charred bodies, gutted buildings, and smoldering wreckage. The air is thick with the sounds of anguished cries and desperate shouts. Shattered windows, jagged glass, and twisted metal litter your path as flames roar high into the darkened sky.

You can’t fathom how quickly everything spiraled into chaos. In mere seconds, then minutes, the world you knew disintegrated into a living nightmare. 

Your legs feel like lead, your mind foggy and exhausted. The cold, smoke-laden air clings to your lungs, but you force yourself to press on. Yuri’s hand in yours is the only anchor in this hellish new reality, a faint source of calm amid the chaos.

Thankfully, you live on the outskirts of the city. 

Normally, you’d discern it was nighttime just by looking at the sky, but now, the sky is pitch black and choked with smoke. You avert your gaze from the devastated city and look toward what seems like a serene, calm direction. Is it an illusion, a cruel trick of your mind? 

Desperation tugs at you, urging you toward this perceived sanctuary, a beacon of safety amidst the chaos.

Yuri coughs harshly behind you, and you spin around, dread tightening your chest as she spits up blood. You try to reassure yourself, though deep down, you know it’s futile.

“I don’t want to die,” Yuri pants between coughs, her voice strained with fear. You grip her hand tighter, desperate to offer reassurance in a world where safety is a fleeting illusion.

“You’re not going to die,” you assert, the words tasting bitter on your tongue, a feeble attempt to dispel the pervasive fear. “We’ll find a safe place, find some food, and make it through— everything will be fine.” You try to infuse conviction into your voice, but the hollowness echoes back at you, revealing the truth you dare not acknowledge.

But maybe if you keep telling yourself that everything is fine enough times, reality will bend to your desperate wishes?

You’ve been walking for what feels like an eternity, your sense of time warped by the perpetual darkness above. There’s no sky to gauge the hour anymore— gone as the stars that once were.

Your feet ache, battered and throbbing with exhaustion, begging for respite. The need for rest weighs heavily on you, but the city’s relentless grip refuses to release you. The daunting truth forces a weary sigh from your lips.

Yuri trembles, tears mingling with the grime on her cheeks, and you can’t shake the thought that she might be falling ill. Dread gnaws at you—what if it’s something fatal?

Your legs refuse to carry you any further, and staying exposed on the desolate road is a dangerous gamble. You’ve sensed shadows trailing your every move—what do they seek? Your clothes, the rations you don’t have, your very survival kit? You dare not linger to discover their intentions, yet exhaustion demands a pause. You must rest, even as paranoia grips your weary mind, hoping for a brief refuge to steady your faltering steps.

Adrenaline surges, urging you to hasten your steps, desperate to lose the shadowy figures trailing behind. The cityscape thins as you approach its outskirts. The dwindling buildings offer fewer places to conceal yourselves. Despite the fewer options, you’re determined to evade capture. With a sharp turn, you pull a breathless Yuri around the corner, heart pounding in sync with the echoing footsteps behind you.

You slip into a ravaged boutique, its shattered door gaping wide for easy entry. The dim interior reveals racks of torn clothing and broken mannequins strewn across the floor. You guide Yuri deeper inside, settling her on the dusty tiles. Her pallid face stands out starkly in the oppressive darkness, a chilling reminder of the perilous world outside. The thought of losing another friend tonight claws at your gut, urging you to find safety and respite in this decaying sanctuary.

“How are you holding up?” you inquire, your voice tinged with apprehension. Despite your fear of the response, you must know.

She trembles, her voice quivering. “I’m not doing well,” she admits. Her eyes wide with unspoken dread. “I don’t think I’ll make it.”

“Of course you will,” you choke out, your voice cracking with emotion, unable to confront the specter of death. The memory of Hana’s bloodied face flashes vividly in your mind, tears tracing the path down your grimy cheeks. Why must this nightmare persist?

“You’re a lousy liar, you know?” she quips weakly, a grim chuckle escaping her lips as she coughs up blood, wiping her mouth with a trembling hand. She studies the red stains on her palm with resignation, exhaling heavily.

You furrow your brow. Deep down, you know your attempts at optimism are feeble at best. In your friend group, you’ve always been the pragmatic realist, but now, you’ll play the role of hopeful optimist if it means coaxing a smile from Yuri’s pale face. You bite back any further words, aware that Yuri can read you like a book, predictable as always.

You slump onto the frigid tile floor of the store, grateful for a brief respite from the relentless march. The cold seeps through your clothes, a bitter reminder of the world outside, but your weary feet finally find a moment’s reprieve.

You’re uncertain how much time Yuri has left, but you’re determined to muster every ounce of strength to lead both of you to safety, far from the chaos—this inferno of a city, this relentless war that has begun.

How long will this last?

The shuffle of broken glass on the tile sends a shiver down your spine, sharpening your senses. Someone approaches, and you’re defenseless. Panic grips you—this is bad. Very bad.

Footsteps echo ominously, a chilling reminder of imminent danger. Yuri’s gaze meets yours, wide with fear and tears threatening to spill. The certainty settles in—this is how you die.

A looming silhouette emerges—a figure cloaked in darkness; their presence ominous and foreboding. Dread creeps up your spine as you realize the danger before you.

You scramble backward, but the shelves halt your retreat, trapping you in a corner with no escape. Panic surges as time slips away—your feet ache, and Yuri’s condition weighs heavily. The man advances, his silence more menacing than any threat, his cold, unyielding gaze fixed upon you.

Uncertain of the stranger’s intentions—murder or something worse? Your heart races, adrenaline surges through your veins as he moves closer. In a split-second decision, survival instincts take over. You lunge, sinking your teeth into his arm, tasting the metallic tang of blood. Like a desperate animal, you bite down harder, unrelenting until he screams in agony and collapses to the ground, clutching his injured limb.

“You fucking bitch!” he spits, struggling to rise despite the pain.

You hiss through clenched teeth, rising to your feet, closing the distance to charge at him, a wild glint in your eyes. “Try me again, and I’ll bite your fucking dick off.” The threat hangs heavy in the air, punctuated by the burning cityscape beyond. Your blood simmers with adrenaline, a primal urge overshadowing your usual self-control. You’re not yourself anymore, but one thing is clear; you’re more than willing to follow through.

He flinches, a flicker of fear crossing his face, and satisfaction courses through you. Your grin widens as he scrambles backward toward the shattered entrance, then finally turns and bolts, disappearing into the smoke-laden darkness.

You exhale sharply, unaware you’d been holding your breath. Returning to Yuri, still hunched over on the floor, clutching her stomach, you kneel beside her, heart pounding in dread as you examine her stomach.

Carefully prying her hand away, the sticky warmth confirms your fear— blood, seeping from her abdomen. Swiftly lifting her nightshirt, you reveal a small yet troubling wound. Fumbling through your backpack, your hands find the first aid kit amidst the chaos, extracting antiseptic to cleanse the injury. With trembling hands, you cover it with gauze and secure it with tape, knowing it’s a temporary fix— but this will have to do for now.

“I think debris hit me when the first bomb struck,” she explains, her breath ragged and filled with pain.

“It’s okay. It’s not that bad,” you manage to say, forcing a smile that fails to reach your eyes. Who were you kidding anyway?

You settle beside her, allowing her head to rest on your shoulder. “Let’s rest. You sleep, and I’ll keep watch,” you murmur, scanning the shadows with wary eyes.

Her head nestles against your shoulder and neck. “But you need rest too,” she whispers. Her voice is barely audible over the distant sounds of chaos echoing through the shattered cityscape.

“I’ll sleep later. Don’t worry about it; just go to sleep,” you command, the edge in your voice betraying the fear and exhaustion gnawing at you. You didn’t mean to sound so stern, but the cold reality of the situation weighs heavily on your shoulders. You wish someone could offer you the same reassurance— tell you this is all just a bad dream. Soon you’ll wake up and everything will be as it was.

Or for someone to tell you this is all just a movie, and you’re just an actress playing your part in some bizarre doomsday flick. But deep down, you know you’re no actress, this is no movie— sadly, this is real life, and you’re just a twenty-nine-year-old woman with a dead-end job.

Guess you don’t have that job at the café anymore. There’s probably no café left standing. The place likely went up in flames like much else in the city.

You listen to Yuri’s breathing, its slow cadence a brief respite from the cacophony outside—planes droning, people fleeing, and the distant echoes of screams. In just a few hours, these sounds have become the new normal, yet each one still sends a shiver down your spine.

You keep vigil through the restless hours as you had assured Yuri. Time blurs in the suffocating darkness, making it impossible to discern whether it’s night or day. Hours seem to stretch like endless tendrils of despair. With dawn or dusk lost to the smoke-filled horizon, you gently rouse Yuri, steeling yourself to resume your desperate quest for safety.

Yuri’s voice, usually vibrant and full of life, now emerges as a subdued whisper. “So it wasn’t just a nightmare…” Her words hang heavy in the air, laced with the grim realization that this dystopian nightmare has become your bleak reality.

“I’m afraid so,” you admit, your voice echoing in the desolate store. “We have to keep moving. Get out of the city.” Your limbs ache with every movement, a constant reminder of the night’s horrors. Yawning, you rise and gently pull Yuri to her feet. Before venturing out, you take a sip of water from your dwindling supply, feeling hunger gnaw at your stomach. Food is a distant luxury now, replaced by the urgency of survival.

Stepping out of the store, you survey the aftermath; where once vibrant flames danced, now only smoldering ruins remain. The landscape is awash in gray and ash falling like snow, towering skyscrapers reduced to skeletal frames or gaping maws of destruction. Smoke billows thick and acrid, clawing at your throat with every breath, forcing a cough to escape. This city, once teeming with life, now lies desolate and unrecognizable—a shattered testament to a world irreparably changed. This was your home, but now it’s a forsaken wasteland, a haunting reminder of the relentless march of destruction closing in around you.

If you manage to escape this city, this will probably never be your home again.

Pressing onward, you drag a weary, ghostly-pale Yuri in tow. Each step feels like a battle against the weight of the world collapsing around you, but you refuse to relent. The streets stretch out before you, barren and haunting, a maze of debris and ominous shadows. You move cautiously, every sound magnified in the eerie silence of the ruined cityscape, knowing that survival hinges on reaching safety, no matter how small the steps.

You walk and walk. The road stretches endlessly into the horizon, an unrelenting path of despair. Gradually, the landscape shifts from the shattered remnants of the city to the bleak desolation of nature, though nothing remains green. Everything is gray and charred, the outskirts bombed into an unrecognizable wasteland. Each step is a journey through the aftermath of destruction, a grim testament to the world that once was.

Body heavy and feet blistered, you can barely drag yourself forward, and Yuri is faring even worse. You decide to stop, the weight of exhaustion forcing your hand. The world around you is silent save for the distant echoes of disaster. You find a small, secluded spot to relieve yourself, then reach into your backpacks for the precious water bottles. The liquid is a lifeline in this scorched, desolate landscape.

“I think I’m dying,” Yuri pants as she collapses onto a stone, her face ghostly pale, lips tinged with blue, eyes glassy and distant. The sight sends a cold lump forming in your throat, a suffocating denial choking you because you can’t accept this as reality. It has to be just a stupid fucking nightmare.

You glance at your arm where you pinched yourself yesterday. The tiny scar is a mocking reminder of your futile hope. You barely register the pain; all you want is for this nightmare to end, for the world to return to a semblance of normalcy.

“You’re not dying,” you insist, voice trembling as you crouch down to meet her gaze. But her eyes are distant, unfocused, as if she’s already slipping away. A tear escapes down your cheek, cutting through the grime of this hellish reality.

“Stop lying, bitch,” she hisses, her voice a fragile blend of defiance and despair. She rolls her eyes in mock anger, the gesture marred by the blood she spits up, staining the ground like a cruel reminder of reality.

“I can’t walk anymore, and my stomach hurts so bad,” she pants, tears streaming down her dirt-streaked face as she clutches her wound. Blood seeps through her shirt, a grim testament to her worsening state. You glance up at the sky, a bleak, gray expanse that offers no solace. Clenching your fist, you rage silently at the faceless enemies responsible for this devastation. It’s not just your friends; it’s the entire city, maybe the whole country. Fear gnaws at you as you realize you have no idea of the world’s state. Is it just your country? The entire world? You curse yourself for not packing a radio to stay informed.

You’re wondering if there would be any information on your phone, but you don’t want to use it, because you don’t have anything to charge it with. You want to save it for extreme emergencies. 

“We’re finally out of the city,” you say, trying to infuse your voice with hope. “Maybe we can make it to another house down the road that can help us.” The words feel hollow, and you both know the truth: Yuri isn’t going to make it that far. Her labored breathing and the pallor of her skin betray the grim reality.

She coughs up more blood, almost choking. “We both know the next house is in the next city, over a hundred kilometers away,” she rasps, each word a painful reminder of the hopelessness stretching before you.

You lower your gaze to the grimy, ash-covered road. She’s right, of course. It’s likely far more than a few hundred kilometers, and the trek ahead promises to be an endless, harrowing journey through desolation.

Ashes swirl in the air like snow, a haunting reminder of your ravaged city. For a fleeting moment, you glance back, taking in the sight of crumbling buildings, smoldering remnants, and the acrid stench of smoke that clings to your senses. The scene turns your stomach, and you double over beside Yuri, bile rising in your throat, the bitter taste lingering like a grim testament to the city’s devastation.

“I’m freezing… Will you stay with me? Wrap your arms around me?” she pleads, her voice trembling with cold and fear, tears welling in her eyes, mirrored in yours. You nod silently, your heart heavy with the weight of what’s to come. She collapses onto the ground, and you join her, enveloping her frail, shivering form in your arms, seeking warmth amidst the chilling winds that whisper of desolation and despair.

“Promise me you’ll do everything you can to get to safety, okay?” she stutters, tears streaming down her cheeks, mixing with yours. Your heart breaks because you don’t want this reality. You can’t bear to lose another friend, but you’re helpless. You’re no doctor, and Yuri’s injuries are beyond your ability to heal. It’s a cruel truth that gnaws at your soul. Anger surges through you, directed at whoever orchestrated this devastation upon your friends, your city, your homeland. This world has become a cold and merciless place.

You’ve always been an ugly crier, and this is no different, but neither of you cares as tears stream uncontrollably down your faces. “I’ll try my best,” you manage to choke out, the words catching in your throat amidst the despair.

“When I’m gone…,” she begins, and a chill runs through your body at her words, “will you drag my body over to those bushes?” Her voice is strained, barely above a whisper, as if even speaking about her own death is too much to bear.

Even though your voice is hoarse, your wailing echoes through the desolate landscape, a mournful cry that seems to merge with the howling wind. You nod silently, tears streaming down your face, blurring the bleak surroundings into a haunting blur of despair and loss.

“Thank you,” she whispers, her voice barely audible as she lays her head down on your shoulder. Her breaths are faint and fleeting, each one a fragile thread in the unraveling tapestry of her life. You hold your breath, feeling the weight of each passing moment as her heartbeat dwindles, a painful echo of the world falling silent around you.

Your fists clench involuntarily, a futile attempt to grasp the reality unfolding before you: sitting beside your dying friend in this bleak, shattered world. This isn’t how life was supposed to be—witnessing the unraveling of everything you hold dear. You never signed up for this torment, this heart-wrenching despair that consumes you. 

Why? 

The question lingers like a haunting echo in the desolation.

Yuri’s breathing slows to a crawl, each breath a strained whisper of life. You turn your gaze to her face, her eyelids fluttering faintly—she’s clinging to existence. The agony etched on her features is unbearable, and a chilling realization settles in: maybe death is a mercy in this ravaged world. Her suffering is too much to endure, and part of you wishes she could escape it. It’s a cruel acceptance, knowing that letting go might be the kindest act left, even though you really don’t want her to go.

The silence closes in like a shroud, burnt leaves swirling in the air, whipped by the relentless wind. It’s eerie, the smoke and ash embracing everything. Your hand seeks Yuri’s, fingers tracing to her wrists, and there, you check for her pulse—absent, lost amidst the desolation.

You scream and cry, heedless of any who might hear amidst the desolate landscape. This world, so callous and unforgiving, engulfs you. Tears cascade down like a torrent, emotions unchecked. You gasp for air in the acrid, ashen atmosphere, your body trembling uncontrollably.

She’s gone. Another friend, lost to this merciless world.

You sit there, by the side of the road, time slipping through your fingers like sand in a storm. Hours pass, maybe more, the world reduced to desolation around you. A lone figure passed by earlier, casting a glance your way, but the urgency of survival drove him on, leaving you and your dead friend to the merciless elements. The city’s ruins loom in the distance behind you, a reminder of the chaos that has consumed everything.

You know you must move, but before you leave, there’s a promise to fulfill for Yuri.

You relieve yourself and step back onto the road, eyes fixed on the distant horizon that seems miraculously untouched by the ravages of war. That glimmer of hope pulls you forward. You have to reach it. No matter the distance, no matter the obstacles, you must get there. 

It’s your only chance.

You walk and walk—days blur into weeks. Your clothes hang off your frame, tattered and too big. Bombings have become a constant backdrop, each explosion a distant rumble you barely acknowledge. The earth’s violent shudders no longer faze you. Hunger gnaws at you, a relentless companion, its grip tightening until you can’t even remember your last meal. Water, your only steadfast ally, has kept you moving; without it, you’d have long since fallen.

You trudge along the desolate highway, the city a distant speck on the horizon behind you. You have no sense of how far you’ve traveled, only that the remnants of your home have shrunk to a mere dot in your vision. The road stretches endlessly ahead, a bleak reminder of the ground yet to cover.

Dizziness is your constant companion now, your throat is parched as the Sahara despite your efforts to hydrate. Water is scarce, and you’ve been rationing it for days. Hope feels like a distant memory, and though the elusive horizon you’ve been chasing for weeks appears closer, it still seems maddeningly out of reach.

Your body feels like lead, your feet swollen and throbbing with every step. 

Sleep is a distant memory, haunted away by visions of blood-streaked faces, final breaths, and echoing cries. Bloodshot eyes and a disheveled appearance mark your struggle; you’re still in your tattered nightdress, stained with blood and reeking of fear and sweat. 

No food, no shower, just the relentless march through this wasteland.

You’ve lost track of time—is it still September? 

The biting cold cuts through you, your torn and ruined shoes barely offering any protection. You trudge onward, desperate to find shelter, weary of hiding in the bushes from strangers who might wish you harm. Paranoia grips you; every rustle in the distance, every shadow makes you jump. Trust is a luxury you can’t afford. You feel like you’re unraveling, teetering on the edge of sanity.

The roses have withered, frost seeping into your bones. The birds no longer sing at dawn, and the grass by the roadside shrivels to brown. In the encroaching darkness, the cries of the forsaken echo—abandoned by fate and by man.

When your eyes land on a solitary house down a side street off the main road, you can hardly believe it. You’re nowhere near your end goal, the neighboring city, yet here it is—a lonesome house in the middle of fucking nowhere. You chuckle, convinced you’ve lost your mind. Why would there be a house out here, untouched by the chaos? You blink repeatedly, but the house remains. Your feet carry you forward, despite your spinning head and the jumbled mess of thoughts in your mind.

The house, partially concealed by tall trees and lush bushes miraculously untouched by bombs, seems like a relic from a forgotten world. An old jeep, battered but intact, sits beside the porch with its white picket fence. You approach cautiously, every step feeling surreal, and lift your hand to knock. Your bloody knuckles leave crimson smears on the pristine white door, a stark reminder of the nightmare you can’t escape.

You lose track of time standing there, every second stretching into an eternity, before the door is abruptly ripped open. You find yourself staring down the barrel of a rifle.

“Who are you?” a male voice demands, harsh and suspicious, but the words barely register. Your vision blurs, darkness encroaching, and the last thing you feel is the hard impact of the porch floorboards against your head as you collapse.

Slowly, your eyes flutter open, your eyelids feeling like lead, gritty with exhaustion. Your vision swims, a blur of muted colors and shadowy shapes. You blink, trying to bring the world into focus. Through the haze, you make out a figure sitting on a chair not far from you. Panic grips your chest. 

Fuck. 

Where are you?

Your pulse quickens, and you jolt into a sitting position with a startled gasp, blinking as your vision finally clears; you find yourself in a bed, surrounded by bandages and the sterile scent of antiseptic. You’re in someone’s house—a man’s house, and he's seated across from you, watching intently.

He sports long, unkempt black hair that curls at the ends, paired with a ragged shirt jacket, torn jeans, and a plain black tee. His knees jitter nervously, as if he can’t find solace or calm in this chaotic world.

He sits clutching the rifle that had greeted your face before you blacked out. A cold shiver courses through you, fear gripping your heart at the thought of imminent danger. But if he intended to harm you, wouldn’t he have done it already?

He clears his throat, his voice cutting through the silence like a blade, harsh and demanding. His eyebrow arches in suspicion as he growls, “Who are you?”

His steely demeanor makes your throat tighten, but you swallow your fear and force out the words. “I’m Y/N. I live in the city. Well… I lived there, before…” Your voice trails off as the weight of your new reality presses down on you. Nervously, you bite your lip, eyes darting around the room. You’re in a bedroom—king-size bed, you assume. High open shelves are stocked with toilet paper, dry food, canned goods, plastic water bottles, multiple first aid kits, and warm blankets. The sight of these supplies leaves you gaping. “Are you a prepper?” you ask, disbelief tinged with a sliver of hope.

He scoffs, a bitter edge to his voice, clearly unimpressed by your assumption. “I’m not a prepper,” he snaps, eyes narrowing as he tightens his grip on the rifle. “Now, tell me what you’re doing here, unless you want me to shoot you.”

You gulp, your throat dry and tight— the cold steel of his rifle isn’t just for show. His steely eyes tell you he’s a man who will follow through on his threats. You need to speak quickly, clearly. “I’m fleeing from the city,” you sputter in a rush, words tumbling over each other. “My home is destroyed. I haven’t eaten in god knows how long, I’m thirsty, and I just want a place to rest and stay away from the war.” Your breath catches, lightheaded from the effort.

His eyebrows arch in surprise, the hard edge in his voice softening to a wary curiosity. “Have you been walking since the first bomb hit?” he asks, the malice momentarily replaced by a flicker of genuine intrigue.

You nod, exhaustion settling deep in your bones despite your unconscious respite. Time feels warped and meaningless. “How long have I been out?” you ask, the reality of your situation hitting harder as you notice you’re still in your tattered nightgown, a haunting reminder that it couldn’t have been long.

“Only an hour,” he replies, his voice a rough whisper. “I cleaned some of your scrapes and wounds.” He gestures to your arms and legs, now meticulously bandaged, the clean white stark against your dirt-streaked skin. The care feels almost alien in this ravaged world.

“Thank you,” you manage, offering a small, weary smile. The words feel foreign on your tongue. Despite the rifle and his guarded demeanor, you feel a sliver of tension ease in this fragile sanctuary.

“So you haven’t eaten anything in three weeks?” he suddenly shouts, disbelief cutting through his gruff exterior. His eyes scan you from head to toe, and you feel exposed, vulnerable under his intense scrutiny, making you squirm.

“Three weeks? That can’t be right... Maybe a week,” you mutter, your voice small as you fidget with the duvet covering your legs. You glance down at the bloodstained sheets, wondering why he placed you in the bed with your filthy clothes. But then again, in this shattered world, stained sheets are the least of your worries.

“It’s been almost three weeks since the bombings started,” he says, placing the rifle beside his chair. “I’m Yoongi, by the way. Sorry about pointing my rifle at you—it’s just...there’ve been people trying to raid my supplies.” He scratches his head, a nervous gesture that contrasts with the cold, hard edge of survival in his voice.

A sudden knock on the door startles both of you. You shiver on the bed, wide-eyed and afraid. Yoongi’s expression hardens as he swiftly picks up his rifle, eyes narrowing with suspicion. “Friends of yours?” he asks, his voice low and tense.

Your eyes dart down to your trembling hands as a tear escapes, tracing a path down your grime-streaked face. “No,” you whisper, voice cracking, “Don’t have any more of those left.”

He notices the sadness in your eyes but remains silent, rising to his feet and heading toward the front door. You follow, a compulsion driven by a mix of fear and curiosity. As you move from the bedroom through a narrow hallway, you glimpse an open living room and kitchen space before reaching the door. Yoongi raises his rifle, mirroring the moment you first encountered him. 

Before he can react, the door bursts open, slamming into him and causing him to stumble back. A wild-eyed man, covered in dirt and smeared with blood, lunges inside. His crazed gaze locks onto you as he charges forward, a feral desperation in his movements.

“Give me food or I’ll kill you!” he shouts, launching himself at your exhausted body. You hit the floor with a heavy thud, groaning in pain, but adrenaline kicks in, sharpening your senses. As you claw at his skin, the man, wild-eyed and desperate, seems beyond reason, driven by hunger and survival—much like yourself. 

But you need to get him off you. 

Your heart pounds in your chest as you use your legs to kick him in the groin. He hisses in pain, and you seize the moment, tumbling him over. His back hits the floor with a sickening thud. You straddle him, screaming and hissing, your hands instinctively finding his throat. You press down, your vision narrowing to the singular focus of survival, fueled by desperation and fear in a world gone mad.

He fights you for control, his nails digging into your sides, tearing your nightgown. In a violent twist, he’s on top of you again, pinning you to the floor. You struggle against his weight, every muscle screaming, the cold, hard surface pressing into your spine. The room spins around you, and the desperation in his eyes mirrors your own.

But then, he’s yanked off you, dragged by his hair, Yoongi’s grip unyielding. The intruder’s wild eyes meet yours for a fleeting moment before Yoongi raises his rifle. A deafening bang is sent through the room, and the man’s body crumples. Blood splatters everywhere, painting the floor in a macabre pattern. The scent of gunpowder mixes with the iron tang of blood, and the room falls into an eerie silence, save for the ringing in your ears.

You scream, the sound raw and primal, echoing in the suffocating silence. Your heart hammers against your ribs, each beat threatening to choke you. Nausea churns in your gut as the reality of what just happened slams into you. Who the fuck is this guy? He just killed a man! Disbelief crashes over you, and fear grips your chest like a vise. The room spins, your breaths coming in rapid, shallow gasps as you teeter on the edge of hyperventilation, panic surging through your veins like ice.

You gasp for air, eyes wide with terror, as Yoongi throws the rifle to the floor. The stranger’s body lies motionless in a spreading pool of blood, a stark reminder of the brutality that surrounds you. Shivering uncontrollably, you try to crawl away from Yoongi and the corpse, each movement a struggle against your own paralyzing fear. Tears blur your vision as you sob, feeling like you’ve just traded one nightmare for another, the weight of this dystopian hell pressing down on you from all sides.

Yoongi approaches you cautiously, his voice low and soothing. “Relax, everything is okay,” he reassures, his hands extended in a calming gesture, fingers splayed to show he means no harm. Despite his gentle demeanor, you retreat further, wary and unsure if his kindness is a facade. The air is thick with tension, echoing the uncertainty of this dystopian world where trust is a luxury long lost.

“Okay? You just shot a man!” Your frantic scream echoes off the walls, each word laced with fear and disbelief as you feel the cold concrete pressing against your back. Panic rises, clawing at your throat. There’s nowhere left to go; you’re trapped, cornered in this unforgiving world.

“Yeah, he was going to kill us and steal my food.” his voice steady, as if justifying his actions were routine in this harsh reality.

You stare at him in disbelief, your gasping intensifying. “So that means he deserves to die?” The accusation hangs heavy in the air, tears streaming down your cheeks in rapid succession. Dizziness swirls through you, fingers tingling with adrenaline and fear.

“Relax,” he says again, his voice soothing yet unsettling as he moves closer.

You refuse to ease up. You want him gone, and you want this goddamn nightmare to end. You yearn for normalcy, for everything to revert to how it was before. You don’t belong here with this Yoongi, a stranger turned killer. How the hell are you going to escape this mess?

“I’m not going to hurt you,” he says, his voice steady yet tinged with an edge of authority. “If I wanted you dead, you’d be gone by now.”

His reassurances fall flat against the pounding of your heart. You struggle to process his words; your mind feels clouded, suffocated. Each breath is a battle, your chest constricting with a pain so intense, it threatens to overwhelm you.

“Please, calm down. You’re having a panic attack and you have to breathe calmly,” he urges, crouching before you. Your eyes widen with fear, anticipating harm from this stranger. Yet, as his warm hand gently rests on your shoulder, its reassuring weight steadies your erratic breaths. Tears still streaming, you gasp for air, but gradually, your breathing steadies, the tension in your chest easing with each controlled inhale.

“That’s good. Listen, I’m not gonna hurt you,” he assures, his gaze piercing into yours to convey sincerity. You nod hesitantly. Despite the fact that he’s taken a life, his actions in tending to your wounds suggest he harbors no ill intent toward you. Surely, he wouldn’t go through all that trouble if his intentions were sinister, would he?

“I can’t believe you killed a man, just like that…” you mutter in disbelief, your voice tinged with horror. 

“Would you rather he killed us?” he asks bluntly, a shrug punctuating his matter-of-fact tone.

“No,” you reply, the certainty in your voice belying the tumult of emotions inside you.

“Look. It was either him or us. I’d rather live. This is just how life is now, I guess,” he says solemnly, rising to his feet and striding past the lifeless body toward the kitchen. He returns with biscuits and a water bottle. “Here, eat some crackers and drink some water. You have to start slow if you haven’t eaten in weeks,” he advises gently, handing you the items. Your fingers brush against his as you take them.

“You can take a shower; it’s in the bedroom. While you do that, I’ll get rid of the body.”

You nod, fingers trembling as you pry open the crackers and take a hesitant bite. They taste dry and unfamiliar, like they’ve been preserved for years. Your stomach churns in protest, unaccustomed to solid food after weeks of deprivation. Sipping water, you set both items down beside you. 

“Thank you,” you manage to whisper, offering him a small, grateful smile, relief flooding through you as your heart finally settles into a steady rhythm.

“No problem. You can grab some of my clothes in the bathroom. That poor nightgown isn’t doing much to cover you,” he says with a slight chuckle. You glance down and realize half of your right breast is exposed, your hands instinctively flying to shield it from view.

You’re embarrassed, cheeks burning, and you scramble up from the floor, not saying a word because the humiliation is overwhelming. Your breast has been exposed all this time, likely since the scuffle with the man, and Yoongi didn’t mention it until now? You rush back to the bedroom, pushing away thoughts of Yoongi seeing you half-naked and what he might do with the body in his living room.

In the bedroom, you easily locate the in-suite bathroom at the end; it boasts a large bathtub, a sleek shower, a toilet, and a spacious sink, all in matte black with subtle white accents, strikingly minimalistic. Approaching the bathtub, you turn on the water, feeling its warmth soothe your battered hand. It’s a strange sensation, one you haven’t felt in what seems like an eternity, and a rush of anticipation flutters in your chest at the prospect of a proper shower. As the tub fills, you shed your clothes, discarding the nightgown into the garbage—it’s beyond salvaging. Glancing at yourself in the mirror, what meets your eyes is a stranger, not the person you once were but a mere shell. Your skin is streaked with grime, your face swollen, especially beneath your eyes, and your hair wild and unruly.

Finally, the tub fills to the brim, and you shut off the stream, testing the temperature with your hand—it’s perfect, pleasantly hot, promising a thorough cleanse. Eagerly, you step into the water, noting the array of shower bottles within reach. You grab one, twisting off the cap to release a refreshing minty scent that envelops you. The shampoo and conditioner bear the same invigorating fragrance. Yoongi must have a thing for mint, you think to yourself with a faint smile, grateful for this small comfort after enduring the trials of the past three weeks. 

The notion that so much time has passed feels surreal, almost impossible to grasp.

You let the warm water envelop and soothe your weary body, a brief respite from the horrors that haunt you—before the bombings, before this relentless war. The shower gel lathers as you wash away the grime, shampooing your hair with a sense of renewal. For a fleeting moment, the sensation of cleansing almost allows you to forget the devastation that brought you here. 

But guilt grips you tightly, a suffocating embrace. You feel the weight of being alive when your friends are gone, their lives snuffed out mercilessly. The simple joy of a bath, forever denied to them, brings tears to your eyes, mingling with the water surrounding you. 

You can’t stand to stay in the tub any longer, despite not feeling physically clean. Quiet sobs escape your lips as you stand, chest tight with sorrow for what has been taken from you, and for what you can never reclaim.

Hastily, you snatch a gray towel, wrapping it around your shivering frame as tears trace silent paths down your cheeks in the mirror’s reflection. The ache for your lost friends deepens with each droplet that falls. Drying off with hurried strokes, the plush towel offers some comfort against your skin. You manage to towel-dry your hair as best as you can, seeking normalcy in the routine.

Then, a glimmer catches your eye—a toothbrush. The realization hits hard: you haven’t brushed your teeth in three weeks. Your gaze darts around the bathroom, finding only one brush. Is it gross to use someone else’s? Disgusting, maybe? You search the cabinets in vain for a spare, but finding none, you convince yourself it’s okay. You’ll sanitize it thoroughly, make it right. With meticulous care, you rinse the toothbrush under the stream, scrubbing it clean before applying toothpaste. 

The brush feels foreign in your mouth, yet it scrubs away the layers of neglect, refreshing your senses in a way you hadn’t realized you craved.

When you finish, you step out into the bedroom, scanning Yoongi’s dresser for any clothing that might fit. Not expecting to find undergarments, you ponder going without or resorting to his if necessary. Pulling on a pair of gray sweatpants, you cover your legs before grabbing a black t-shirt and slipping it over your head. Spotting a pair of cozy socks nearby, you hastily put them on and make your way into the living room, the unfamiliar garments a stark reminder of the upheaval your life has become.

You step into the living room, confronted by an unsettling contrast of cleanliness and calm amidst the recent violence. It’s as if the room has been meticulously scrubbed of any trace of the fatal encounter that unfolded mere moments ago. You can’t help but question whether Yoongi is unnervingly efficient at erasing the aftermath of death or if you’ve lost track of time while in the bath, leaving you to wonder what else might have transpired in your absence.

You spot a door tucked away in the dimly lit living room, its handle cold to the touch. Slowly, you push it open, and a shiver snakes down your spine at the grim sight that greets you. “Are those... bodies?” you choke out, a mix of revulsion and horror tightening your throat as you gaze upon the macabre pile in the corner of the yard. Yoongi turns around, his expression unreadable, having added the latest stranger to what appears to be a makeshift graveyard of those he’s encountered before you.

“Yeah?” he shrugs nonchalantly, as if it’s inconsequential in the grand scheme of things.

“How many people have you killed?” you demand, hands on your hips, trying to steady your nerves.

He pauses, the silence stretching between you, each moment heightening the weight of his answer. “Five,” he finally admits, his voice carrying the weight of each life taken in this unforgiving world.

“Five?! That’s a lot— five too many,” you spit out in disbelief, the weight of his confession sinking into your bones. You can’t stand to dwell on it any longer. Death surrounds you like a shroud, and you’ve seen enough to last a lifetime. Turning away, you hear Yoongi’s footsteps approach from behind, each step a reminder of the grim reality you now face.

“Like I told you before, it was me or them. I was only defending myself and my home,” he shrugs nonchalantly, pushing the door open as you follow him into the living room. He settles onto the couch, the weight of his words hanging heavy in the air, casting a shadow over the pristine room that belies the violence it has witnessed.

“Did you have a nice shower? You smell nice,” he smiles warmly, pulling a blanket over his legs.

You gape at him—how can he be so calm? He just killed a man, and now he acts like it’s no big deal, no remorse, no hint of the violence that just transpired.

“I smell like you, and yes, your tub is very nice. Your clothes too. Thank you,” you reply, sitting down on the couch, keeping a deliberate distance between you. After what you’ve witnessed, it feels safer that way.

“You really held your own back there, with the guy. It was kinda hot,” he says, his tone as casual as discussing the weather or deciding what to eat.

Your mouth hangs open. Is this guy serious? 

“Something’s seriously wrong with you if you find that hot. Please don’t tell me you’re aroused or something. I’m not touching you or helping you with your boner—I barely know you,” you say, crossing your arms defiantly across your chest.

He chuckles, a deep, resonant sound that reverberates through the room, a stark contrast to the desolation outside. You gaze at him, stunned by the unexpected display of humor. 

“I’m not aroused and if I did have a boner, I could take care of it myself, don’t you worry. I just respect women who can fend for themselves,” he says with a smile, settling deeper into the worn cushions of the couch.

“Well, I know self-defense. My dad drilled it into me as a kid and teenager. Have you seen how messed up the world is? Even before this war or whatever it is, men were always preying on women or men, lurking in shadows, stalking, abducting them—doing who knows what. I had to learn to protect myself,” you explain, watching him nod in understanding, his eyes reflecting a grim acknowledgment of the world’s harsh realities.

“That’s good. Oh, I forgot to mention, I left your backpack next to the couch—by the way, you look good in my clothes,” he grins, rising from the couch and moving over to the kitchen.

“Want some dinner? I’ve got leftovers we can reheat,” he mumbles from the kitchen. You nod silently, your mind elsewhere as you walk over to your backpack. You hardly remember what kind of stuff you grabbed from home—hopefully clothes, maybe some underwear would be nice. Digging through it, you find only two pairs of leggings, three shirts, and a bra. Well, it seems like unlucky is just your color.

Doesn’t matter, you can go without panties. It might be a problem when your period comes, but that’s a worry for another day.

You hear a beep from the kitchen and join Yoongi there. Whatever he’s reheated is ready, and you take a seat at the round table positioned between the kitchen and the living room. Yoongi retrieves cold water from the fridge.

“So, you’re not a prepper, but you’ve stockpiled enough to survive indefinitely. Why?” you inquire between cautious bites, mindful of not agitating your stomach.

“Didn’t you listen to the government? They told us to prepare for anything, just in case. And I prefer to be ready. Call me a prepper if you want,” he shrugs, spearing his food with his fork.

“I noticed all your shampoo in the bathroom. What else have you stocked up on?” you ask, genuinely curious. You hadn’t prepared for any of this, refusing to believe something like a war could happen in your country.

“I’ve got spare clothes, solar-powered batteries, extra fuel for the truck, a backup generator for power outages, and even a well in the backyard in case the water supply is cut,” he lists with a chuckle. But your eyes widen almost to the point of popping out of their sockets; you’ve never encountered anyone so thoroughly prepared.

“What’s your deal then? You live out here by yourself in the middle of nowhere?” you choke out as you take a sip of your water.

“Yeah, I don’t like people,” he says with another shrug, and you almost spit out your water. Oh god, he’s probably one of those eccentric types.

“Let me rephrase that; I just prefer my own company,” he explains, his voice steady but with a hint of guardedness.

“Well, what am I doing here then?” you chuckle with a smile, though you feel some insecurities seep into your blood.

“You wouldn’t last another day out there. And it’s not that I don’t enjoy company. Maybe we can help each other out, stay alive together?” he shrugs again, and you begin to wonder if he can do anything else but shrug.

“Like make life more bearable together?” you ask, and he nods.

“Yeah. Just keep each other company. It is pretty lonely out here,” he sighs, carrying his plate back to the sink to clean and put in the dishwasher.

“We can do that,” you say, yawning and stretching your body, feeling the tiredness wash over you. You wish for a good night’s sleep, something you haven’t had in weeks.

“Sleepy?” he chuckles, flashing a pearly set of teeth and pink gums.

“Yeah. Honestly, I haven’t had proper sleep since the bombings,” you yawn again as Yoongi takes your plate and cleans it too.

“Then maybe we should go to bed?” he suggests, clearing the table.

“Yeah, if you can just show me to the guest room, that would be nice,” you yawn again, feeling the weight of exhaustion pulling you down.

Yoongi burst into laughter again, his voice echoing through the desolate walls. “Guest room? Y/N, there’s only one bedroom. You’re bunking with me unless you prefer the icy embrace of the couch.”

Your eyes widen, reluctance shadowing your thoughts as the idea of sleeping in the cold chills you. Yet, the notion of sharing a bed with him unsettles you; he remains a stranger, and despite his seemingly gentle demeanor, your instincts keep you on edge. You sigh, resigned to the exhaustion that weighs heavily on you. “Sharing a bed will have to do,” you mutter, your voice tinged with apprehension and weariness.

You both walk together to his bedroom, the air thick with a strange tension that makes your heart pound erratically in your chest. It’s not the first time you’ve shared a bed with a man without any sexual connotation, yet there’s an odd intimacy in this moment that unsettles you. You forego any further preparation, having already showered and brushed your teeth — though you remember something. 

“I used your toothbrush earlier, I hope that’s okay,” you mention tentatively, eyeing the bed, its sheets faintly stained with your blood. They definitely need changing. “Do you have clean sheets?” you ask, turning towards the bathroom where Yoongi directs you to the cabinet with fresh linens and mentions he has a spare toothbrush.

You strip the stained sheets off and swiftly tuck in fresh ones, craving the comfort of a proper sleep. The thought of lying in clean bedding is a rare luxury now. There’s just one duvet, though, and you wonder if sharing it will be a challenge. Shedding the sweatpants, you opt for the black shirt, its length offering modesty. As you settle into the bed, pulling the covers snugly up to your chin, you relish the cocoon of warmth, a brief respite from the harsh reality outside.

Yoongi emerges from the bathroom, his chest bare and marked by scars on his shoulder, wearing plain black boxers. You gulp involuntarily. Damn it, you shouldn’t be ogling him like that, but your cheeks burn nonetheless.

He slides into bed beside you but maintains a respectful distance under the covers, leaving a gap that allows a chilling draft to sneak beneath the duvet, making you shiver involuntarily.

“Cold?” he asks, his voice devoid of the usual teasing tone that has marked the day. Instead, it carries a hint of genuine concern, almost comforting.

“Yeah, but I don’t want to be a burden,” you sigh, shifting to feel the warmth against your front, trying to ignore the chill creeping up your back.

“We can huddle closer for warmth,” he suggests, and you ponder it briefly, realizing it might help you sleep better anyway.

“Okay,” you agree, and moments later, Yoongi edges nearer, his chest pressing against your back. Instantly, his warmth envelops you, quelling the shivers that had plagued you.

You drift into sleep soon after. Yoongi maintains his distance, his chest against your back serving as a reassuring anchor, his hands remaining still as he promised. Finally, the respite from constant danger allows you to embrace a much-needed slumber.

You’re drenched in sweat, heart pounding against your chest, breaths coming fast and shallow as you gasp, “Don’t leave me, Yuri! Please, Hana, don’t go. Please don’t die!” You twist and turn, tears streaming down your face, overwhelmed by fear and sorrow. Your eyes refuse to open, exhaustion and dizziness enveloping you, yet vivid images flash before your mind’s eye, forcing a scream from your throat.

A pair of strong hands grips your arms, shaking you gently, and you register a voice calling out urgently, “Y/N, wake up. It’s just a nightmare. You’re safe.” 

Oh, it’s Yoongi. 

Right, you’re in Yoongi’s bed.

A stranger you met only hours ago. 

Despite his reassurances, your body refuses to comply, shaking uncontrollably as the remnants of the nightmare cling to your senses.

“Can I hold you? Maybe it’ll help calm you down,” he suggests softly. Even though you can’t muster the strength to open your eyes, his voice anchors you. 

“Please,” you sob, and he turns you gently, your back against his chest, enveloping you in his arms. His soothing shushes echo, reminiscent of comforting a restless child—surprisingly effective. 

Gradually, your racing heart steadies, the tremors subside, and your breathing finds a steady rhythm.

You open your eyes to darkness enveloping the room. “I watched my friends die. Their faces haunt me almost every night,” you sob, burying yourself deeper into his embrace. Forget the fact that he’s practically a stranger; his comforting presence and the safety of his arms offer solace you’ve longed for. After endless days of running, hyper-aware and on edge, it feels strangely liberating to allow yourself this moment of vulnerability. You’re still strong, but right now, in his arms, it’s okay to seek refuge.

You feel his hand on your head, gently stroking your hair. “It’s okay. It will get better with time,” he reassures you.

Sniffling, you surrender to exhaustion, finding solace in his arms once more. Despite your initial reservations and the day’s unsettling events, you feel an unexpected sense of safety with him. Weariness overtakes your caution, and you drift into a deep sleep, cradled by Yoongi’s reassuring presence throughout the night.

When you wake, a sticky, uncomfortable wetness between your thighs jolts you into full consciousness. You sit up and glance at Yoongi, still asleep beside you, his long hair tousled and face serene, lips slightly parted with steady breaths. Dread fills your gut as you peel back the covers. The sight of blood staining the white sheets freezes your breath, a scream clawing its way out of your throat, piercing the quiet of the room.

Yoongi bolts upright, momentarily disoriented, his eyes darting around the room for danger. His gaze falls on the crimson-stained sheets and your trembling form. Panic flashes across his face as he instinctively reaches for you. 

“Are you hurt?” he asks, his voice low and raspy with sleep, cutting through the air like a blade.

You force yourself to calm down, the panic subsiding as you realize the source of the blood. “No, it’s just my period,” you pant, trying to steady your breath and racing heart. It hits you with a mix of relief and embarrassment—over a month since your last one, but the sight of the stained sheets fills you with shame.

Yoongi’s tension eases, his shoulders relaxing. “Oh,” he says, understanding dawning in his eyes. There’s no danger, just the harsh reality of life. He gives you a comforting look, a rare softness in his hardened gaze.

“I’m sorry,” you ramble, sliding off the bed, mortified by the mess. “I didn’t wear underwear because my panties were ruined, and I didn’t want to trouble you for your boxers. I don’t even have pads or tampons.” Your words tumble out in a rush, the embarrassment amplifying every second.

Yoongi sits up, running a hand through his disheveled hair. “Relax, it’s okay,” he says, his voice steady and reassuring. “You can take some of my boxers. I’m not stocked up on pads or tampons, but you can just use cloth that we wash.” 

If you weren’t in a slight panic, maybe you’d notice how good he looks with bed hair and his bare torso, but instead, you rush out to the bathroom, still blushing from the unexpected intimacy and the rawness of the situation.

Yoongi joins you, a pair of his boxers in hand, as you futilely try to dry yourself with toilet paper. It’s no use.

“You should take a bath and wash off the blood,” he says, placing the boxers on the countertop. “I’ll take care of the bed.”

You nod, desperate to rid yourself of the blood, and without a second thought, you grab the edges of the black t-shirt you borrowed and pull it over your head, not caring that Yoongi is still there, probably watching you. His presence feels oddly comforting in this grim reality. 

“Nice ass,” he smirks as you step into the shower. You can’t believe he finds you attractive in this state—blood running down your thighs. How can you really look appealing like that? 

He’s either weird or into some strange shit.

You don’t reply, just shut the curtain fast, turning the showerhead on and letting the warm water caress your skin. The blood washes away, swirling down the drain as you clean yourself thoroughly. Damn, you really hate your period. Stepping out of the shower, you grab a towel and dry off. You spot some ripped cloth Yoongi left for you to use as makeshift pads. 

Yoongi is incredibly kind, you realize, and it brings a rare smile to your lips. You dress with the makeshift pads stuck in his boxers and then walk out, covering your breasts, not wanting to wear the shirt you slept in. The warmth of the shower lingers, but the cold reality of the dystopian world waits just outside the bathroom door.

In the bedroom, Yoongi has replaced the bloodstained sheets with black ones, blending seamlessly with the oppressive gloom outside. As he turns to meet your gaze, you can’t help but blush, standing there before him semi-naked. 

“Do you have a shirt I can borrow again?” you ask, your voice shaky with unsaid emotion and a confusing undercurrent of attraction.

He nods and rummages through his dresser, pulling out another black tee. You can’t help but wonder if black clothing is the only thing he owns, as if he’s trying to match the bleakness of the world.

“Thank you. I’ll just find my bra in my backpack,” you quip, the words sounding hollow as you step out next to the bed and search through your belongings.

“You don’t have to wear one, you know. You’re free to do whatever. If you’re more comfortable without one, it’s okay,” Yoongi says, his voice gentle yet firm. His words halt your movements. He’s right. You don’t really want to wear a bra; you’d only wear it because it’s the ‘proper’ thing to do. But he doesn’t seem to care about such trivialities, and comfort sounds far more appealing in this bleak reality. 

You stop searching for the item and simply pull on the shirt he’s given you, the fabric soft against your skin. 

As Yoongi gets ready with a shower and fresh clothes, you wander into the kitchen, your stomach growling. The dull ache in your abdomen also reminds you of your period, and you curse under your breath. Pain meds would be nice, but you have no idea where Yoongi keeps them. The thought of asking him feels like a small admission of vulnerability, something you’re not entirely comfortable with yet. But the pain is relentless, and in this world, there’s no room for stubborn pride.

Yoongi emerges from the bedroom, catching sight of you clutching your stomach. “Do you need painkillers?” he asks, his tone a mix of concern and practicality. He gestures to a cabinet. You nod, biting your lower lip as you move to find the pills, swallowing them with some water.

In the kitchen, you both work in a synchronized silence, preparing a simple meal. The quiet between you isn’t awkward; it’s a welcome respite from the chaos outside. As you eat, the distant sound of bombs punctuates the air, a grim reminder of the world beyond these walls.

Afterwards, you settle on the couch, the weight of the day pressing down on you. Yoongi sits beside you, the proximity offering a strange comfort. The silence stretches, filled with the unspoken understanding that, for now, survival is enough. The faint echoes of destruction fade into the background as you allow yourself a rare moment of peace, nestled in the fleeting safety of Yoongi’s makeshift sanctuary.

“Do you think we’re safe here?” you ask, turning to face Yoongi abruptly.

“For now, I think so,” he replies calmly, his gaze fixed on the flickering light from a nearby candle. The distant cacophony of destruction outside barely registers with him.

“You have a radio, right? Have you heard what’s going on?” Your curiosity is tinged with desperation. Three weeks of aimless wandering have left you clueless about the extent of the chaos—whether it’s confined to your city, your country, or if fleeing abroad could offer safety.

“Yeah, I do. It started with our country and the neighboring countries that were bombed, but now it’s escalated into a full-blown nuclear world war,” Yoongi answers, his voice tinged with resignation. “They say this might be the end of the world as we know it.”

Your throat tightens. 

The end of the world. 

Fuck. 

It’s a phrase that carries weight beyond comprehension. You fall silent, nervously fidgeting with the hem of your shirt. Yoongi notices your unease and his hand gently encircles yours, a silent gesture of reassurance amidst the chaos engulfing the world outside.

“I understand you’re scared, and it’s okay. I’m scared too,” Yoongi’s voice cuts through the dimness, his eyes reflecting a glimmer of something indiscernible. His honesty offers a rare comfort amidst the uncertainty that permeates every corner of your existence. “But there’s not much we can do about it, except try to stay alive. Frankly, I’m happy you’re here. At least we have each other in this shitty world.”

His sincerity touches you in a way that words struggle to express. Despite the looming dread, his presence brings a semblance of solace. “I guess you’re right,” you muse softly, a fleeting smile gracing your lips. The mere thought of not facing this bleak reality alone lifts your spirits more than you’d expected. “I’m also happy to not be alone anymore.”

“Come here,” he invites, arms open, a silent gesture that beckons you to his side. Initially hesitant, you meet his gaze with a questioning stare before relenting, offering a gentle smile as you scoot closer. His arms envelop you, pulling you into a comforting embrace as you rest your head against his shoulder.

In this moment, amidst the chaos and uncertainty, you allow yourself the luxury of comfort. It doesn’t diminish your strength or resilience; it’s simply a reprieve, a respite from the relentless struggle for survival. You listen to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat, its reassuring cadence grounding you amidst your racing thoughts, reminding you that in this fractured world, even fleeting moments of solace are worth cherishing.

You’ve been grumpy for days—blame it on your period, though Yoongi has tirelessly tried to ease both your pain and your sullen mood. He’s taught you the art of baking sourdough bread, introduced you to new games, and even guided you through painting sessions, all while the world around you crumbles bit by bit. Each night, he holds you close, his warmth soothing both your body and your restless thoughts. If you denied feeling a spark between you, you’d be lying. It’s an unspoken tension that has simmered since you first met, and you’re certain he feels it too, though neither of you acknowledges it or acts upon it.

The reason for your inaction eludes you—is it fear of rejection, uncertainty about what this attraction truly means amidst the chaos, or simply the desperate need for companionship in a desolate world? You wrestle with these thoughts, wondering if your feelings are genuine or born out of circumstance. Perhaps that’s why you’ve held back, because deep down, you want to desire him for who he is, not just because he’s the only person around, and certainly not solely out of physical need.

You realize you’re nearing the end of your period because since yesterday, every little thing Yoongi does seems incredibly arousing. Folding laundry becomes a sensual act as you watch the muscles in his arms move, his focused demeanor igniting a fire within you. Even mundane actions like drinking water capture your attention, the movement of his throat and the bob of his Adam’s apple now irresistible to you. It’s clear you’ve got it bad, and you feel like you’re slowly losing your sanity.

Yet amidst this chaotic world, you’ve come to a profound realization: it’s not merely Yoongi’s availability that attracts you, but the essence of who he is.

“Do you want to get drunk?” he asks abruptly, pulling your attention away from your swirling thoughts after dinner. Both of you sit motionless, avoiding the cleanup that beckons. You blink at him, incredulous, but the idea holds a strange allure. The prospect of drowning the world’s chaos in alcohol for a fleeting moment seems oddly appealing.

“Yeah. What do you have?” you inquire, leaning forward across the table, eager to hear his answer.

“Only the hard stuff,” he replies with a smile, rising to clear both your plates.

You nearly choke on his words, a momentary blur conjured by your horny mind. The double meaning triggers a rush of both embarrassment and arousal, betraying your thoughts once again.

You assist in tidying up, your heart pounding inexplicably loud in your ears. There’s a nervous energy tingling through you, a strange excitement, as you settle onto the couch. Yoongi locates two mugs and heads to a well-stocked cabinet filled with an array of hard liquors. The sight leaves you momentarily impressed — the man is prepared for anything.

Returning with a bottle of whiskey, he notices your slight frown, likely recalling your distaste for its taste. Yet, any strong spirit would elicit a similar reaction from you. He sets down the bottle, retreats to the kitchen for ice, then returns to pour the amber liquid into your mugs.

“Thank you,” you quip, raising the mug to your lips and taking a cautious sip, grimacing at the harsh taste, eliciting a chuckle from Yoongi. He sips his whisky casually, as if it’s a ritual he’s performed countless times before — which, given his ease, might very well be the case. The amber liquid seems to suit him, and you strive to mimic his nonchalance, the flavor gradually becoming more palatable with each swallow. Eventually, a subtle warmth spreads through your body, a faint buzz that hints at relaxation in this tumultuous world.

He pours more whiskey into your mugs, and you drink, feeling the world blur around you, but Yoongi remains sharply focused in your gaze. His laughter cuts through the haze, accompanied by glimpses of his pearly white teeth and endearing pink gums, as he shares stories of his friends and their reckless escapades.

“Then Jungkook would leave the poor girl hanging,” he chuckles, a deep, resonant sound that brings a smile to your face and colors your cheeks. 

“But that’s so bad,” you manage to reply between sips. Despite being thoroughly drunk by now, you relish Yoongi’s company and the friendship you now share. His presence makes the chaotic world feel momentarily lighter. You’re grateful he’s as intoxicated as you are, though you suspect he handles his liquor with more finesse.

Your eyelids flutter, cheeks warm as your gaze lingers on Yoongi, captivated by his sweetness and kindness amidst the dystopian chaos.

“What?” he chuckles softly, catching your prolonged stare.

“Your lips look really soft…” The words slip out, your filter completely gone, the confession hanging between you like an unspoken truth.

“Kiss me and find out,” he challenges, a glint of mischief in his eyes. His gaze, deep and compelling, draws you closer until your noses almost touch. With eyes closed, you lean in, meeting his lips in a gentle press. The warmth of his skin against yours, the taste of whiskey on his breath, sparks an unexpected thrill. Your hands find his, fingers intertwining, and a soft moan escapes your lips, lost in the softness and warmth of his kiss.

Your mind swirls, a dizzying mix of alcohol and the intoxicating scent of Yoongi enveloping you. You feel intoxicated by his presence, as if he’s a drug you never want to quit. Kissing him feels like an escape from the harsh reality of the world outside, a brief reprieve where everything is right.

But as you reluctantly pull back for a breath, both of you panting, his eyes are filled with desire and a knowing smirk. Without hesitation, he leans in again, kissing you fiercely. His urgency overwhelms you as he presses you down onto the couch, your hand instinctively gripping his neck, desire pooling in your stomach. You ache for him, craving more than just his touch.

He pulls away with a grunt, his voice rough with desire. “I really want to fuck you. But I want to do it sober.”

You groan softly, the heat of the moment tempered by the clarity of his words. Alcohol fuels your desire now, but you yearn for a clear-headed connection. You nod in agreement, and he pulls you up from the couch, his touch firm and purposeful.

“Doesn’t mean we can’t enjoy each other in bed in other ways,” he adds suggestively, leading you toward his bedroom. You follow eagerly, a wide smile spreading across your face, anticipation tingling in your veins.

In the bed, little else happens beyond kissing, the alcohol still clouding your senses. You manage to undress each other and slip under the covers; your bodies drawn together by an irresistible pull, seeking solace and warmth. More kisses follow, each one infused with a sense of fleeting bliss and exhaustion. Eventually, Yoongi spoons you as he always does, enveloping you in a cocoon of affection that feels more profound than anything you’ve experienced before. It’s a fleeting moment of respite amidst the chaos of the world crumbling outside.

When you wake, the throbbing pain in your head pulls you back to reality. You groan softly, slowly coming to, feeling Yoongi shifting beside you. His arms are still wrapped around you, in a comforting embrace.

His voice, thick with sleep, breaks the morning silence. “Morning. Do you have a headache too?” 

You chuckle softly, nodding as you nuzzle your back into him, his warm, nearly bare body—save for his boxers—shielding his erection. “Yeah,” you groan, feeling the fatigue lingering, yet also acutely aware of Yoongi’s touch, his fingertips gently tracing over your bare skin.

“Want to take a shower together? Might help with the headache,” he suggests, his voice still husky with sleep. You nod, both of you slipping out of bed and padding into the bathroom together.

There, you shed your minimal clothing—a shirt of Yoongi’s for you, his boxers for him. It’s the first time you’re both seeing each other naked, a realization that hangs heavy in the air. For a moment, you simply gaze at each other, skin tingling with anticipation and desire, yet neither of you utter a word. You silently drink in each other’s presence, wondering if he finds you as appealing as you find him. The way he licks his lips with hunger suggests he does. You study his body: soft yet lean, pale skin a testament to a life spent indoors, away from the harsh realities of this broken world.

His dick appears soft, yet it pulses with undeniable arousal, sending warmth through your skin and stirring a primal desire between your legs. His appearance is captivating, his dark brown pubic hair adding to his allure, compelling you to join him in the shower.

He turns on the water, and as it sprays over both of you, a shared chuckle breaks the tension. “Do you want me to wash you?” he asks, his voice low and thick with need. You nod, craving the touch of his hands on your body.

Yoongi finds some minty soap, lathering it in his hands before placing them on your skin. Instantly, you relax, feeling like putty in his strong hands. His touch is soft yet firm as he moves from your neck down your back, to your ass, and then along your thighs and legs. His hands travel back up to your neck, then, standing behind you, they move to your front. He slowly caresses your breasts, teasing your nipples into stiff peaks, and continues down your stomach, past your crotch, and along the front of your legs. The intimacy and the warmth of his touch make you feel more alive than you have in a long time.

Shivers cascade down your spine, heat flaring not from the water, but from Yoongi’s touch. Your breathing quickens with each passing moment, his low and raspy grunts filling your ears.

Your knees grow weak, and a blissful moan of his name escapes your lips as your head falls back to rest against his collarbone. “Do you like it, babe?” he murmurs, his voice a deep, seductive rumble that sends electric tingles down your spine and a rush of arousal pooling between your legs.

Your body quivers, and you bite your lower lip in a futile attempt to contain your desire. Finally, you relent, panting, “Yes.”

His pet name for you sends your mind spinning with thoughts of him, intensifying your longing. You gather your courage and turn to face him, your eyes hooded with desire. He licks his lips teasingly, his gaze sweeping over your soapy, naked form with clear appreciation. His hands continue their journey, gliding over your skin, teasing and igniting every nerve. 

“I want to wash you too,” you pant with a chuckle, grabbing the soap and lathering it in your hands. You place your fingers on his warm, sturdy chest, gliding over his pectorals and teasing his nipples, drawing a soft, whiny chuckle from him. Your hands travel down his stomach, deliberately bypassing his half erect cock, moving instead to his legs and down to his feet. Then, you make your way back up, sliding your hands over his back, down his shoulder blades, to his firm, round bum, which you squeeze with playful delight, before caressing down his thighs. 

You’re now sitting, face to face with his erection, and you can’t help but stare. To you, cocks have always just been cocks, but his looks almost like a work of art. It grows longer with arousal, and you stutter at the thought that he isn’t even fully hard yet. He already looks so long and girthy, and you can’t wait to feel him inside you.

You glance up at him, his eyes dark as obsidian, his mouth slightly agape as he watches you. Your hands move to his dick, now free of soap. He releases a needy groan as you wrap your fingers around him, beginning to stroke gently.

He keens at your touch, his back pressing against the shower wall, panting as the warm water sprays over you both. The only sounds are his grunts and the rhythmic patter of water, so you keep going, pleasuring him with your hand, feeling the intoxicating power of his reaction to you.

“Fucking hell, seeing you like that on your knees… you’re making me weak,” he pants, his black hair plastered to his head, his face flushed with a deep blush.

You smile, relishing the effect you have on him, and it spurs you to stroke him faster. In a surprising move, you wrap your mouth around his cock. He grunts in pleasure, relishing the sensation of your warm, wet mouth enveloping him.

You breathe through your nose, setting a slow, deliberate pace. His hands find purchase in your wet hair, fingers gripping as his body trembles with each movement of your lips and tongue.

He pants and grunts your name, the sound echoing in the steamy shower, until he gently pulls you off. “It’s really good. But I don’t want to come yet.” His voice is ragged, filled with both desire and restraint.

You rise to your feet with a smile, capturing his lips in a deep, fervent kiss, moaning softly into his mouth. Your hands snake around his frame, pressing your body tightly against his. His cock presses against you, igniting a wildfire of need within you. Pulling back, you gaze into his eyes, the intensity of your desire mirrored in his dark, lust-filled gaze.

“Let me finish washing you up, and then we can continue this in bed,” he suggests with a teasing smile. You nod, shivering as his hands glide over your body, washing away the soap with gentle, deliberate touches.

Just as you’re about to step out of the shower, he grabs your hand, stopping you in your tracks. “I haven’t washed your hair yet,” he murmurs, his voice low and intimate.

Your stomach does a somersault, a horde of butterflies threatening to escape. No one has ever done this for you. No one. He steals your breath away with how soft and caring he is, while he still maintains his roughness. 

You walk back to him, and he’s already ready with shampoo in his hand, lathering the liquid on your scalp. You moan in delight at its minty scent filling your nose, feeling and loving the drag of his fingers on your scalp, giving you a thorough clean. Then he washes the soap away and does the same with the conditioner focusing on the ends of your hair. When he’s done, you turn around, wrap your arms around his neck, and kiss him. 

It’s wild to think that at first you were put off by his strong behavior—though he did point a rifle at your head, and killed a man in front of you—but this, this is truly something special you could never have imagined. Never had you thought you’d fall for this rugged, rough, but also very sweet and soft man.

You don’t say anything, but gesture for him to let you wash his hair too. You find the shampoo and gently give him a scalp massage, pulling moans of your name from his lips. You squirt a bit of conditioner into your hands and lather the ends of his hair. He closes his eyes while you work, and, damn, he looks so handsome, so serene like this.

You give him a chaste kiss. “I’m done.”

He chuckles, and you each do a final rinse, making sure no soapy residue is left. Then you both step out of the shower and grab towels to dry off. Playfulness bubbles between you, even though you’re both aroused, the tension almost tangible in the steamy bathroom.

“Do you have a condom? I’m not on the pill anymore, and I didn’t make it to my appointment to get an IUD inserted,” you ask, already debating whether you want to risk it. With no birth control, you run the risk of getting pregnant, and you don’t really want that, but you also really want to fuck him.

“I have condoms,” he says, opening a cabinet and pulling out a large box.

“Holy shit, 500 condoms! What are you going to do with those?” you ask, flabbergasted and laughing at the absurdity. You’ve never seen a man with so many condoms. You wonder if he has a lot of sex or what his deal is. Did he plan this?

“Before you ask, because I can already see those wheels inside your brain spinning, it was a good deal, and it was a long time ago, but they’re not expired yet,” he chuckles, the sound low and deep, shrugging slightly as he scratches his still wet hair.

You laugh, taking the box from his hands and walking naked into his bedroom. The absurdity of the situation doesn’t dampen your desire; if anything, it heightens it, making the moment feel even more surreal and intense. The world outside might be falling apart, but in this room, you both find a strange and intoxicating solace.

“Do you fuck a lot of women, Yoongi?” you ask teasingly, holding the box in your grasp.

“I haven’t had sex in over a year, so no,” he chuckles, though his tone darkens slightly.

“So what are you going to do with all these then?” you ask, grabbing a foil packet and watching as a few more tumble out.

“Hopefully fuck you many times,” he teases with a grunt, standing before you at the edge of the bed. “Would you like that? Fuck like rabbits until the world falls apart?”

Your heart races at his words, the raw intensity of his desire matching your own. 

For a moment, you had completely forgotten the state of the world, but with him, it hardly matters. “Fuck yeah. Take me on the bed, then fuck me in the shower, the kitchen, the couch, the floor—I don’t care, just get inside me,” you rasp, sitting down on the bed.

He pushes you down, and you giggle as he hovers over you. You shimmy further up the bed, and now he’s eye level with your exposed pussy. He licks his lips teasingly, his gaze dark and hungry. “Can I taste you?” he asks, his voice a sultry whisper.

You giggle, spreading your legs wider to make space for him. “Yes, please,” you breathe, your voice catching. You don’t care how needy you sound; the anticipation electrifies your skin, your body already trembling with desire.

One of his hands grips your thigh, and you let out an airy moan as he squeezes, drawing closer. “You look so pretty,” he murmurs, his voice a sultry promise. “Can’t wait to taste you.”

The world outside fades away, replaced by the intensity of his gaze and the heat of his breath on your skin. As he leans in, your senses ignite, every nerve ending alight with a mixture of need and surrender.

He takes a moment to savor your pulsating pussy, still damp from the shower, small water droplets glistening on your skin. With both hands, he gently parts your folds, groaning at the sight of your exposed hole. With eager anticipation, he dives down, his lips latching directly onto your sensitive clit, making you grab the sheets in pure ecstasy. His tongue traces a path to oblivion, and for that moment, you’re consumed by him, and him alone.

His tongue is a perfect blend of warmth, softness, and roughness, unforgiving in the way it laps and sucks at your clit, sure to bring you maximum pleasure in a short amount of time. It’s insane how skilled he is with his mouth, and you arch into his expert touch, your fingers tangling in his long black locks instead of the sheets. The world outside is forgotten, replaced by the overwhelming sensation of his tongue and the undeniable connection between you.

“Yoongi... it’s so good,” you moan, feeling your pussy clench around nothing. “Fingers, please.”

You can feel him smirk against your folds, his mouth never leaving your clit as a finger teases your entrance. Slowly, he slides the first digit inside you, and you let out a needy moan, relishing the small stretch as he works you open.

“Like this?” he asks, momentarily pulling away to flash you a teasing grin, fully aware of the power he holds over you and how much he’s affecting you with his skilled tongue and probing finger. The anticipation and his relentless teasing send waves of pleasure coursing through you, leaving you breathless and craving more.

You bite your lip and nod, your body trembling as he begins to finger you with increasing vigor. It doesn’t take long before he adds a second finger, the slight stretch sending jolts of pleasure through your core. Your fingers clench in his hair, your legs closing around his head as you edge closer to your orgasm.

“I’m gonna come,” you pant, tugging at his hair, the desperation in your voice driving him to suck harder on your clit and thrust his fingers faster. The intense rhythm of his movements sends you spiraling, each stroke and flick of his tongue bringing you closer to the edge.

Sucking noises fill the room, amplifying your sense of being utterly consumed by bliss. Your heart races, each beat echoing in your ears as you gasp and moan his name, the sound raw and desperate. The coil inside you finally snaps, and you clench around his fingers, your release surging through you like a tidal wave.

“Yoongi…,” you moan, your body vibrating with intense pleasure, tingles cascading over your skin. Your clit throbs with oversensitivity under the relentless ministrations of his tongue. He pulls away, smirking at you with lips glistening with your essence, the early morning sun filtering through the curtains and catching on the wet sheen.

In your bliss, you barely register that it’s the first time you’ve seen sunlight in weeks. The world outside may be changing, but in this moment, nothing else matters but Yoongi and the ecstasy he’s brought you.

"You taste so good. Are you ready for my cock, babe?" he smirks, his tongue darting out to lick his lips, savoring your essence.

“Yes, please, fuck me now. I want you and your dick,” you pant, your voice laced with need. You’ve been waiting for this moment for days, finally free from your period. Not that it would have stopped you, but you’ve stained the poor guy’s sheets enough already.

Yoongi moves closer, tearing open the foil packet and pulling out a condom. He puts it on with practiced ease, then pushes your legs further apart, kneeling in front of you. He spits on his cock, teasing it with his hand, and the sight sends a shiver down your spine. He’s finally going to enter you, filling you completely, and the anticipation is almost unbearable.

“Ready?” he asks, his voice low and filled with desire. You nod eagerly, your body trembling with anticipation.

“You’re so beautiful, do you know that?” he whispers, his voice thick with emotion. One of his hands squeezes your thigh, and you feel the head of his cock teasing your waiting entrance.

No one has ever called you beautiful before, and you’re momentarily speechless. Instead, you give him a shy smile, your face heating with a blush.

Slowly, he begins to enter you, and you moan at the delicious stretch as he pushes in deeper. Yoongi grunts, “Shit. You’re so tight!” The comment makes you chuckle, inadvertently tightening your walls around him.

“Fuck. Don’t do that yet. I’m seriously gonna come any minute if you clench like that.” You stop laughing, trying to steady yourself, focusing on relaxing your inner muscles to give him space.

Finally, he bottoms out, fully sheathed inside you. “Damn. You’re really squeezing my dick. I’d forgotten what this feels like,” he gasps, his voice filled with pleasure and awe.

“Hopefully it’s good?” you ask breathlessly, your arms reaching to hold your thighs and press them down to your stomach, giving him even deeper access.

“Fuck, yeah. It’s amazing. You’re amazing,” he groans, smiling as he begins to pull out only to thrust back inside you, eliciting a moan of pure pleasure from your lips.

“You too, Yoongi, you’re amazing,” you murmur, biting your lip, reveling in the sensation of his thrusts, his balls slapping against your pussy with each powerful movement.

He leans down, your legs falling to the side, and captures your lips in a heated kiss while continuing to thrust into you. Your tongues dance together, and you taste yourself on his lips. He groans into your mouth, the sound driving your lust higher, and you teasingly bite his lip. 

He kisses you again, then pulls away to trail kisses down your throat, over your collarbones. The intimacy of the moment strikes you, making you realize how deeply connected you feel with him. You’re consumed by this, by whatever it is that you and Yoongi have right now, and it feels overwhelmingly perfect.

His lips trace a path down to your breasts, latching onto a nipple and teasing it stiff with expert flicks of his tongue. He sucks hard while his other hand finds your other nipple, rolling and tugging it between his fingers. You writhe beneath him, moaning uncontrollably as waves of pleasure surge through you. Your hands lie flat beside you, completely surrendered to his touch.

“Fuck—Yoongi! Do you… do you want me to ride you?” you gasp, your voice choked with pleasure.

“You want to?” he asks, his mouth leaving your breast to meet your gaze, eyes dark with desire.

“Yes, otherwise I wouldn’t ask,” you chuckle breathlessly, pushing him away gently. He gives you his hand, helping you up from the bed. He lies down, his cock hard and glistening with your juices, ready for you. You crawl over to him and straddle him with vigor, your stomach burning with lust. Grabbing his cock, you guide it to your entrance and then slowly sink down, letting him fill you completely. 

“Ah, fuck. It’s so good!” you moan, your body shuddering with pleasure as you begin to ride him, each movement bringing you closer to ecstasy.

When you look down, his eyes shine with awe and raw arousal, his hands gripping your hips as you begin to set a steady pace. 

“Fuck, you look so good like this,” he rasps, your name escaping his lips in a passionate grunt.

“I always look good,” you chuckle, feeling bold and safe in his arms, reveling in the rare self-praise.

“Shit. Confidence looks sexy on you,” he moans, his hands sliding from your hips up to your breasts, fondling them with a firm, appreciative touch.

You smile back, your thighs working overtime to bounce on him, hands braced against his chest. You lean down to kiss him, pulling away just enough to whisper, “Yoongi, I’m close again. Are you close too?”

He grunts, his cock twitching inside you, a clear sign of his impending release. “Yeah, I’m close. I’m surprised I’ve lasted this long.”

“Will you please touch my clit?” you ask, your eyes hooded with lust. His fingers land on your clit, working circles, sending electric pulses through your still-sensitive nerves. 

“Shit,” you moan, followed by his name, as your body clenches and you release fluid around his cock, stopping your movements and panting for air.

“You did so good. Let me take over now, ‘kay?” he asks, biting his lip. You nod, feeling blissfully tired. His hands travel back to your hips, gripping you firmly as he begins to thrust up into you. His pace is fast and hard, hitting your already sensitive g-spot, making you cry out in both pain and pleasure, your walls fluttering around him.

“Fuck,” is all he says as he comes into the condom, filling it with his warm release. You scream his name and shake, slumping down onto his chest.

“Are you okay?” he asks, gently nudging your cheek, feeling the tears there and brushing them away.

Out of breath, you manage to say, “Yeah. I think I came again.”

He chuckles, stroking your hair as he hugs you close. You linger in the moment, savoring the intimacy—him still inside you, albeit softening. It’s blissful. The safety he provides, his minty scent, the warmth of his embrace. You feel cherished and secure in his arms, wishing you could stay like this forever.

“Damn. I feel so tired now, but at least I don’t have a headache anymore,” you chuckle, your head resting on his chest, feeling the rapid beat of his heart gradually syncing with yours.

“Me too,” he laughs, the sound resonating through his chest, filling you with warmth.

“Maybe we should just stay like this until you get hard again, and we can go for another round,” you suggest, your fingers tracing lazy circles on his warm skin.

“You’d like that, huh?” he teases, his hands threading through your hair.

“Yeah,” you affirm, feeling overwhelmed by his presence yet craving more of it.

Safe to say, you remain nestled together, igniting another round and many more throughout the day. You’re amazed at Yoongi’s stamina, though he did mention something about his balls aching, so as night falls, you settle into a comfortable embrace in bed. 

In the days that follow, you fuck on every imaginable surface, putting those 500 condoms to good use.

One day, the sun that had graced your windows for weeks disappears, replaced by an eerie gray sky again. The familiar sound of something flying in the air makes you shiver and crouch down in fear. 

“What’s wrong?” Yoongi asks, his face etched with concern. The fear in your eyes tells him something’s terribly wrong.

“Bombs,” you mutter. As the words leave your lips, the first explosion shatters the ground nearby. You scream, terror coursing through you. Not this again. You thought you’d grown used to it, the bombings having become sporadic and distant. But now, they’re hitting too close to home.

Yoongi rushes to the window and peers outside, his expression tense. “It’s close. We can’t stay here. We need to leave,” he says, urgency lacing his voice.

Your eyes widen in fear and panic. “What do you mean? Leave?”

“Yeah. It’s not safe to stay here anymore. We can take the truck, try and stay alive. It’s better than staying here and dying,” he says, already moving about, pulling out pre-packed bags.

“You have ‘to go’ bags ready?” you ask, staring at him in disbelief.

“Yeah. I didn’t think I’d have time to pack anything in a rush,” he explains, four bags already laying at your feet. “There’s food, water, clothes, and a medical kit,” he says, then walks up to you, looking you in the eyes. “It’s going to be alright, okay? You’re safe with me.”

You gulp and nod, the sound of another explosion reverberates through the walls, shaking the ground beneath you, fear propelling you into action. Grabbing two of the bags, you follow Yoongi outside to the truck.

The world outside looks bleak. Thick clouds of smoke and ash cover the horizon, turning everything gray. Trees are falling, and in the distance, buildings blaze with fire. The scene mirrors the devastation of your hometown—bombed, ruined, and left you with nowhere to go. Now, you wonder, where will you go?

Your ears ring, and your head spins. Your breaths come quick and shallow as the acrid smell of fire, death, and destruction fills the air. You’re tired of it, longing for the world you once knew. But that world is gone, replaced by this new reality of chaos. 

You follow him to the truck, glancing at Yoongi. Despite everything, you find solace in his presence. This new life may be filled with death and destruction, but with Yoongi by your side, you know you have a fighting chance.

“Hurry. We need to grab more supplies from the shed,” Yoongi urges, pulling you along after you’ve tossed the bags into the truck.

Inside the shed, Yoongi opens a large box, revealing an arsenal of firearms stashed from top to bottom. Your mouth falls open in disbelief. “You have more than just one rifle?”

He chuckles, the sound tense against the backdrop of imminent danger. His movements are swift and precise. “Yeah. Like you guessed, I was prepared for this.”

You gulp, the gravity of the situation sinking in. You’ve never met anyone like Yoongi—someone so prepared for the worst, for the end of the world. Someone ready to fight for his life, and now, for yours too. 

He hands you something, and when you look down, you realize it’s a knife, sheathed in worn leather. “Why are you giving me this?”

“To defend yourself. You said you could handle yourself, so use this,” he replies, his shoulders shrugging as he stuffs a variety of guns into a backpack, slinging his rifle over his shoulder as if it’s just another day in the office.

“Yeah— with my bare hands. I’ve never used a knife before, let alone a gun,” you stammer, the weight of the situation pressing down on you. The world has become so twisted that now you need to carry a weapon just to stay alive.

“I don’t care. I’ll do my best to protect you, but if something happens, you need to be able to protect yourself,” he says, his voice firm but his eyes soft. He hands you a leather harness, and you look at him with wide, questioning eyes.

“Put this on, so you can holster a gun and the knife,” he says, motioning for you to turn around as he helps you secure the leather harness.

“You make it sound like it’s zombies out there,” you gulp, the gravity of the situation hitting you hard. Everything is escalating again, and you know you need to leave—fast.

“Babe, it might as well be zombies. It’s either them or us.”

You freeze for a moment—those words, ‘them or us’ send a chill down your spine. Even though it makes you feel sick, you know he’s right. If you want to survive, you might have to make some very uncomfortable decisions. You clench your hands, fastening the leather harness around your shoulder, then holster the knife and the small gun Yoongi has given you. You pray you never have to use it, but if it comes down to it, you know it will always be you and Yoongi before anyone else.

Yoongi hurriedly grabs more supplies from the box, stuffing them into his backpack and securing them to the belt he now wears. You notice an additional knife, a smaller multi-tool, flashlights, batteries, and finally, he hauls canisters of fuel into the truck’s bed.

“Come on, let’s get going,” he urges, darting around the vehicle. You yank open the passenger door, heart pounding, and jump in. Yoongi climbs in, turns the key in the ignition, and the truck roars to life.

As Yoongi reverses out of the driveway, a low-flying plane thunders overhead. You glance out the window just in time to see a bomb drop. The next moment, your ears ring painfully as your home for the past months disintegrates in a fiery explosion. Plywood, drywall, banisters, and concrete fly through the air, and you scream, tears streaming down your face.

Yoongi remains unfazed, his focus unbroken as he speeds down the main road, leaving the obliterated remains of the house behind.

From the window, you watch in horror as the house disintegrates, consumed by smoldering flames. The structure collapses, reduced to rubble in seconds. Gulping, you feel your body tense and your mind race, barely processing the close call.

“Try to take deep breaths,” Yoongi advises, snapping you out of your spiraling thoughts. You hadn’t even noticed you were on the verge of hyperventilating. Placing a trembling hand on your chest, you focus on its rise and fall—proof that you’re still alive. Everything will be fine once you escape this nightmare, you tell yourself. Everything will be fine. But no amount of positive thinking can mask the grim and harsh reality. Tears blur your vision as you cry, the enormity of your new world crashing down around you.

“Hey, it’s okay,” Yoongi says, his hand landing on yours, grounding you. It always does. You’ve only known Yoongi for a few months—maybe half a year—but time has become a strange, elastic concept since the bombings started. Despite the short duration, you’ve grown dependent on him, on the safety he provides. The thought of losing him, like you lost your friends, terrifies you.

“I just hope we make it out,” you choke out between sobs, your fists clenching and unclenching. You know you need to calm down; fear won’t help you now. But the prickling sensation of dread crawling under your skin feels all too real, a constant reminder of the uncertain future and the precariousness of your life.

His grip tightens, offering a small but significant comfort. “We will,” he assures you, his voice steady despite the chaos. “I promise.”

The landscape outside the truck is almost unrecognizable. The once lush green trees and bushes are now gone, replaced by gray ashes and fire. Everything is barren, dying. 

Bombs continue to drop around you, each explosion sending a shiver down your spine. A lump forms in your throat, but you’re thankful for the truck’s metal shell that muffles the sounds of chaos. You don’t have to hear the people dying, unlike back in the city where the screams still haunt your nightmares.

The road is bumpy, marred by craters and debris, a cruel reminder of the unrelenting reality of your new life. Each jolt and rattle of the truck underscores the harshness of this world, a stark contrast to the life you once knew.

“If anybody comes up to us, shoot first and ask questions later. Got it?” Yoongi’s voice is stern, his grip on the steering wheel like a vice. You gulp and turn your head towards him. “What?” you ask in disbelief. You don’t want to shoot anyone. Your hand finds the gun holstered in your harness. You really don’t want to.

“You don’t know what people want. They might want to kill you. Just shoot them in the leg so they can’t walk,” he explains, his focus sharp on navigating the wreckage of the desolate road. The once-bustling streets are eerily empty, a haunting silence hanging in the air.

You think about his words for a moment, trying to rationalize. Shooting someone in the leg isn’t as bad as killing them, right? It’s a compromise you can live with, or so you hope.

“I really hate this,” you groan, your tears subsiding. Your heart still races, but you force yourself to focus on Yoongi, his voice, and the urgency of getting the hell out of this town. The reality of your situation presses down on you, heavy and suffocating, but you know you have to keep moving forward.

“Where are we going?” you ask, changing the subject. You don’t want to think about killing someone, or shooting them. Better think about something else.

“One of my friends’ places, maybe we can stay there,” Yoongi says, his voice thick with emotion. You can tell he’s worried about his friend—wondering if they’re okay or not.

“Jungkook. Remember I told you about him?” he asks, a fleeting smile crossing his lips. It’s a melancholy smile, tinged with fear and uncertainty.

You nod, gripping the door handle as the terrain grows rougher. The world outside the window is unrecognizable, a desolate wasteland of gray ash and smoldering fires. The once lush and vibrant landscape is now barren, dying, the remnants of civilization crumbling away.

Time blurs as you drive, the hours indistinguishable from one another. Eventually, you spot the outlines of houses on the horizon, but they are no longer standing. They’re crumbled and reduced to rubble, much like Yoongi’s home. The sight tightens your throat with dread, an eerie premonition of what might await you at Jungkook’s place. Your heart breaks for Yoongi, for the fragile hope he clings to in this devastated world.

Yoongi stops the car in front of the destroyed house and jumps out of the truck. His face is unreadable, but you catch glimpses of sadness and anger as he clenches his fists and frowns, taking in the wreckage.

You get out too and join him, your throat and heart tightening at the sight. You scan the ruins for any sign of his friend but find no one. You’re unsure if that’s a good thing or not. “Maybe he made it out?” you suggest, your voice meek and filled with sadness as memories of losing your own friends flood back, and tears well up in your eyes.

“Maybe,” Yoongi responds blankly. You reach out and grab his hand, lacing your fingers with his, offering the support and comfort he’s given you so many times before.

“It’s going to be okay,” you reassure him, slowly beginning to believe your own words. With Yoongi by your side, you feel like you might actually have a fighting chance in this godforsaken world.

“Thank you,” he whispers, leaning into you. The ashy air caresses your cheek as you both turn back to the truck. 

You get in and drive off, the road ahead uncertain, but the bond between you stronger than ever. You’re in search of a place to stay, a place to escape this relentless dystopia, and for the first time, you feel a glimmer of hope.

It feels like you’ve been driving forever, the sky a perpetual twilight, offering no clue to the hour. You push through, finally finding a piece of nature that remains green, untouched by the devastation. Yoongi stops the car and begins unloading the bags, including some you hadn’t noticed before.

“You’ve got a tent too?” you ask in disbelief. By now, you shouldn’t be surprised by his preparedness, but each new revelation still catches you off guard.

“Yeah. We can also sleep in the truck though,” he replies, his eyes scanning the area for any sign of danger.

“The tent is fine. But do you think we can keep warm?” you wonder aloud, unsure of how cold the night might get. You can’t even recall what month it is—April, May? The days and weeks blur together in this endless struggle.

“Yeah, we’ll just huddle together,” he assures you. His confidence is comforting, and you believe him. He sets up the tent with practiced ease, pulling out a thin mattress. After a small meal, exhaustion overtakes both of you, and you head into the tent. Yoongi wraps his arms around you, his body warmth making you feel safe and secure.

Despite your weariness, you struggle to fall asleep, feeling restless. Sensing this, Yoongi soothes you with his hands, leading to you making love, feeling the spark between you, so vital in this broken world, helps you finally drift off to sleep, your bodies intertwined, finding solace and unity in each other amidst the chaos.

In the morning, you think, the air is thick with smoke, small rays of sunlight filtering through the dense clouds above. You stretch and yawn, watching as Yoongi builds a fire, the two of you eating a small meal to regain some energy. The warmth of the fire and his presence beside you offer a fleeting comfort in the bleakness of the world. As you kiss, savoring each other’s company, the air feels warmer than you expected, a small reprieve in the otherwise harsh landscape.

As you sit there, a sense of unease washes over you. The hairs on your arms stand on end, and you lift your head from Yoongi’s shoulder, scanning the area for any signs of danger. The rustling in the nearby bushes makes your heart race, but you see nothing.

“What’s wrong?” Yoongi asks, pulling you tighter against him.

“I just feel like we’re being watched…,” you whisper, your voice barely audible, as if afraid the very air might betray you.

“Maybe we shouldn’t have made the fire,” he replies, his voice tense. “It gives away our position.” He drags his feet through the dirt, smothering the fire with soil and stones.

“Just to be safe, I think we should move,” he suggests, standing up and pulling you with him. His grip on your hand is firm, reassuring.

You nod, the weight of the situation sinking in. Better to be cautious than caught off guard. The world around you is hostile, every shadow a potential threat. Together, you gather your things and move on, seeking safety in an uncertain future.

Then you get back on the road. You’ve traveled so far out that you have no idea where you are, but you hope you’ve left behind whatever presence you felt before. You turn to Yoongi, smiling at him, feeling a glimmer of safety and happiness despite the bleakness of your life. He’s your light, keeping you hopeful in this desolate world.

Suddenly, a harsh sound pierces the air, followed by a deafening explosion. The earth shatters next to the truck, sending it spiraling into the air. You scream, clutching onto anything you can, as the vehicle flips and lands on its roof. Your seatbelt catches you, holding you in place as the world turns upside down. The ringing in your ears is unbearable, distorting your voice as you try to speak. “Yoongi—are you okay?” you manage to choke out.

He grunts, “I’m okay. What about you?”

“I’m fine,” you pant, feeling the blood rush to your head. The urgency to escape floods your senses. 

Yoongi frees himself from his seatbelt and falls to the ground with a thud, groaning in pain. Despite the agony, he pushes through, helping you free yourself and dragging you out of the wreckage. Both of you are alive, miraculously. The injuries seem minimal—Yoongi’s knuckles are bleeding, but that’s about it. You look around at the desolate landscape, the truck lying on its roof, shattered glass everywhere, and you realize just how close you came to losing everything. But as long as you’re together, you have a fighting chance in this godforsaken world.

“Fucking hell, my head is spinning,” Yoongi grunts, wincing in pain.

You suggest grabbing the bags from the wrecked truck, finding some painkillers for both of you, and treating his bruises. He nods, his eyes scanning the desolate surroundings. “We should ditch the truck and move on by foot,” he says, standing up and looking toward a large hill on the horizon. “Maybe we can make it up there?”

“Good idea,” you agree. You grab the bags, your weapons, and, hand in hand, you begin navigating the rough terrain. The landscape is a mix of green patches and dying vegetation, the minimal sunlight choking out what little life remains. Without photosynthesis, you wonder how anything will survive.

You walk until exhaustion sets in, reminding you of the long trek you made before meeting Yoongi. Weary, you decide to make camp, forgoing a fire pit this time. Setting up the tent, you collapse into sleep, the days and nights blending together under the perpetual gray sky.

One morning, after what feels like endless walking, you attempt to scale the hill. It looms vast and imposing, perhaps more of a mountain than a hill. As you drag your tired bodies up the elevated trail, Yoongi breaks the silence. “Do you also feel like we’re being followed?”

You nod, a shiver running down your spine. You’ve felt the presence since yesterday, a constant shadow lurking at the edges of your perception. But what can you do until it reveals itself?

“Keep your hand close to your gun and knife, okay?” Yoongi instructs, his voice tense. He remains on guard, eyes darting around as you continue your climb. You don’t have the energy to chase shadows, especially when survival depends on reaching the top of this mountain hill. The weight of the unknown presses down on you, every step a reminder of the perilous world you now inhabit.

The air grows thinner and colder as you ascend, prompting you to make camp again. You eat and attempt to sleep, though you’re always alert, wary of whatever or whoever is following you. Despite the tension, you manage a light sleep. 

In the morning, you stretch your body and gently kiss Yoongi awake, then strap on your leather harness and weapons. As you step out of the tent to grab something to eat, your blood runs cold. A man is rummaging through your supplies, his eyes wild with hunger. He turns, and your gaze locks with his. 

Panic grips you.

Yoongi emerges from the tent, instantly assessing the situation. His hand flies to the gun in his jeans pocket, drawing it with practiced speed as he steps beside you. The man looks between you and Yoongi, unafraid. He’s a mess, dirtied by war and bombs, eyes red and feral. For a fleeting second, you wonder if he’s even human.

“Touch her and die,” Yoongi warns, his voice cold and venomous. 

The man charges at you, and for a moment, you freeze, memories of a similar encounter at Yoongi’s house flooding your mind. But this time, your instincts kick in. Your hand finds the gun, you draw it, and aim at the stranger’s leg. Heart pounding, you clench your teeth, close your eyes, and pull the trigger. 

A scream rips through the air.

Yoongi is at your side in an instant, taking the gun from your trembling hands. The stranger falls to the ground, clutching his thigh as blood oozes from the wound. You pant furiously—you did that. You hurt someone. The realization makes you feel sick.

“You just defended yourself. It’s okay,” Yoongi reassures, patting soothing circles on your back. 

You nod, trying to believe him. You didn’t kill the stranger; you defended yourself. It’s a grim comfort in this bleak reality, but it’s something.

“What should we do about him?” you ask, still panting, your body tingling with the aftershocks of adrenaline.

“Just leave him,” Yoongi replies with a shrug, quickly gathering your things and dismantling the camp. The stranger’s screams of pain echo through the air, but Yoongi shows no mercy, just cold pragmatism. You’re grateful he doesn’t kill the man outright, though you know he will likely die anyway.

You move on, leaving the wounded stranger behind to fend for himself. Deciding against climbing all the way up the mountain to avoid the bitter cold, you continue your journey. Time becomes a blur of setting up and breaking camp, bombs still scattering the ground around you, but you keep pushing forward, driven by the hope of escaping this nightmare.

Eventually, you find a small hill overlooking the sea. The view is hauntingly beautiful—a stark contrast to the desolation around you. “Do you think we could swim to safety?” you ask, staring at the sparkling blue water, a surreal contrast to the barren landscape.

Yoongi chuckles darkly. “I think we’d die of exhaustion and drown before making it to another country or island.”

“We’re probably gonna die of radiation anyway now,” you spit, setting your bags down on the ashy ground. The sea, still blue and inviting, feels like a cruel joke.

“Yeah, we might feel some radiation effects in a few years, if we’re alive by then,” Yoongi says, putting his bags down too.

You both sit in silence, the weight of your predicament settling in. The world as you knew it is gone, replaced by a harsh, unrelenting reality. But for now, you have each other, and that fragile connection gives you the strength to carry on.

For a moment, you just stare at each other, surrounded by a world that has fallen apart, crumbled into something unrecognizable, gray, and dead. But he’s alive, and so are you. You’ve made it this far, and it makes your heart pound. Your lips crash into his—hungry for his touch, for the feeling of being alive, for safety.

The kiss ignites into a frenzy of lustful touches as you strip, indifferent to the fact that you’re outside—there’s no one else around anyway. You kiss him deeply, touching him like it’s the last time. The world is ending, and your desperation fuels your desire. You grip his hard cock, your mouth finding him, sucking, kissing, pleasing until he stops you with a growl, saying he wants to be inside you. You want that too. Laying down on the ground, you welcome him into your warm walls like you’ve done many times before. He knows how to please you, his touches and kisses driving you wild. 

You want this moment to last forever, but you’re acutely aware of the uncertainty of your future. You don’t know if you’ll be alive tomorrow, next week, or next month or even in a year. But you know Yoongi, and he grounds you. 

With him, it’s okay if the world is ending—as long as you have him.

Bombs continue to fall in the distance, and tears escape your eyes, a bittersweet reminder of your probable fate. But at least you have Yoongi by your side. Your breaths mingle, your hands lace together, and he kisses your neck, making love to you like it’s the last time. 

Time on this earth feels borrowed. You lose yourself in his touch, in his kisses, feeling breathless and alive despite the encroaching darkness.

→ Author’s note(2): hi! Since I posted the teaser I’ve been really stressed, lol. Because I felt so pressured by your expectations, so I really hope that this has turned out well 🥹 I love that so many people are interested in the story, so I just hope I did it justice! Please let me know? Again, this is based on my very real fears, but mingled with fiction. I tried my best to make an open ending, so you’re free to interpret it as you please (this is very intentional because of something I might explain later, lol). Anyway, I really hope you enjoyed it. I had my husband beta-ing it, and he fixed at lot of my poor gramma, got flustered by the smut and said it was too descriptive, and it said this wasn’t as detailed as I usually write smut 🤣 Anyway, he said he wanted more ‘survival’ with oc and Yoongi— and I completely agree. But I don’t have any more words, and I’m honestly afraid to make it too much into ‘The Last of Us’ or something else I watched (seeing as I’m not really familiar with writing apocalyptic stories, lol). But I hope it was still okay, at least 🥹

What did you think?? 💜

→ Taglist: @idkjustlovingbts @lovelgirl22 @gimeow @sweeetas @viankiss @goldietigers294 @this-most-assuredly-counts @futuristicenemychaos @funnygirls-things @ysljoon @livingformintyoongi @as-hs-blog @urmomluvsrose @yasmineixyjay @purpleheartsandarock1 @alextgef @coree730 @wobblewobble822 @coldcoffee2121 @zzoguri

[taehyungsgrowl]

i missed u - myg x reader

ex boyfriend yoongi...

lately @desertsunflower00 and i have not been able to shut up about an ex boyfriend!yoongi au so here i am trying to bring it to life :')

please be nice! i haven't written (for fun!) in about a year, but it's been encouraged by my therapist so here we are!

not proofread!

pairings: yoongi x y/n

warnings: feelings + avoiding feelings, exes, angst, smut (sex, making out, dry humping, hickies, unprotected sex, light exhibitionism (sorta?)

word count: 3,000

(also noteworthy: when I started this I didn't think it would be angsty, but it got away from me lol. definitely have an alternate ending in my drafts w a not as happy ending lol but I did my best to give these idiots hope in this one)

Yoongi noticed the goosebumps on your arm caused by the cool air blowing from his car. Without a second thought he adjusted the temperature to make it more comfortable for you.

He also noticed the way your eyes glanced from his face, to the hands gripping the steering wheel, and the back up to his face. With that he couldn't help the smirk that spread across his face.

That was the thing about Yoongi. He noticed everything about you. Even after breaking up with him he wasn't able to erase the way he responded to you - or the way he knew you.

You sighed, forcing your eyes off of him and back on the road ahead of you. The pink sky was slowly deepening into dark shades of indigo and violet. Your heart squeezed in your chest thinking of the way things had happened with Yoongi.

"I thought I was supposed to be the quiet one," he looked over at you, soft smile on his face. Your leg continued to bounce in nervousness.

"I'm just thinking," you hope that would satisfy him enough, but just as well of Yoongi knew you - you knew him.

You knew Yoongi probably better than you knew anyone else. Yourself included some may argue.

"Hm," he hummed unimpressed with your response. "Do you want me to take you back home? If you don't want to -"

"No!" you cut him off, looking back over at him. "I want this. I missed you," you admitted. You felt your face warm and you hoped Yoongi didn't notice the nervousness coming from you.

But of course he did.

His eyes met yours for what felt like an entire minute. A million things unsaid in his gaze.

A million things you weren't sure if you were ready to hear.

But he knew that.

Instead of saying all the things he wished he could, he let out a breath he had been holding and steered the car in a different direction.

You knew the way to his house - which is where you thought you were headed - but this wasn't it.

"Where are we going?" you question, watching the tall trees as you pass by.

"We need to talk - really talk," he looked at you when he emphasized the words, "and I can't do that if I'm driving so," he points his chin forward, showing you were approaching the lake nearby. "We're making a pit stop," he smiled your favorite smile. The smile that made his eyes crinkle and his gums show proudly.

He stopped the car after parking it to perfectly face the waterfront. The remaining sun shimmered off the water. Families at the playground were packing up their things and loading their kids in minivans.

"Really talk?" you shift in your seat to face him. "What does that mean?"

"Well," he slowly reached forward and used the knuckle of his index to lift your chin to meet his deep gaze. "When you texted me earlier and said you missed me and wanted to see me..." he let the question hang in the air for a moment, taking in every detail of your face.

"What did that mean?" he finished his sentence.

Was he regretting this? You shouldn't have reached out. Maybe you should have listened to the little voice in your head - he didn't want the same thing you did.

"I do miss you and I wanted to see you." you scanned his face for any sign that he didn't actually want this as much as you.

"Right," he nodded, "But since you got in my car you've acted like I'm some stranger," he chuckled, "It's just me, Y/N."

"Did you miss me?" the question leaves your lips before you can even think to stop it.

"I don't think I'll ever stop." he spoke the words with such reverent force it makes your heart still for a second.

It's your turn to nod - agreeing with all the unspoken words between you.

With as small as the interior of his car is, you still feel him too far away. He's less than a foot away and yet the small distance feels miles long.

"I don't think much has changed," you admit - your mind racing at all the possibilities if you were to try again with Yoongi. Would it even work? Why was your mind already there? You were here with him now. Just... catching up.

"Well, my hairs gotten longer," he joked trying to ease you. He tugs at his new length. His dark looked so inviting at this length. You fought the urge to reach across and card your fingers through it.

Thick dark hair, slightly curing inward at the nape of his neck. It was probably long enough to pull up into a little bun if he wanted.

"I like it," and the urge won - your hand reaches over and caress his locks.

Yoongi halts - letting you touch him. It was the first time you've touched him since you walked away from him over a month ago.

Had it only been a month? Being without him for that long had felt so much longer.

Yoongi grabbed your wrist before you can pull your hand away from him and brings it up to his lips, softly kissing your knuckles.

"You know we don't have to have any answers right now..." he slowly lowered your hand, but continued to hold it - intertwining his fingers with yours. That brought back so many memories.

Locking hands under blankets during movie nights. Secret hand holding under dinner tables. His hand firmly guiding you through crowded streets.

His hands intertwined with yours while his face was buried between your legs.

"I just mean..." his thumb rubbed over the back of your hand in the most soothing pattern, "Let's take it one step at a time okay. This doesn't have to mean anything you don't want it to mean."

"Okay," you sigh trying to relax against his leather seat. It was what you wanted to hear, right? It didn't have to mean anything. It could just be.

It could just be you and him.

No expectations. No promises. Just now.

You let out a deep breath again, looking down at his hand holding yours.

"Does that mean we can go to your place now. To do something other than talk..."

That makes him fill the car with the sweet sound of his laughter. Low, raspy, laughter that sends a message right to your core.

You can't help but adoringly roll your eyes at his response. That eye roll made him know you felt more comfortable than when he picked you up. He could almost feel the bleak tension dissolve and be replaced with a different type of tension.

The type of tension that made him stir in his seat.

Yoongi reaches over to cup your face, pulling you in closer. Gently closing the space between you both. Seconds before he presses his lips to yours, his eyes look into yours again wanting to give you all the answers you wanted.

And with that, his pink lips pressed against yours. Gently at first. Testing the waters, kissing you so softly it almost pained you.

And then he does it again, but this time with so much more force. His kiss makes you gasp against his mouth - his lips taking claim over yours. His silky tongue traced your lips until your tongue met his.

All too soon he pulled away. His cheeks were stained pink and his lips were puffy from the force of your kiss. Yoongi's eyes held a devilish glint in them as he pulled back - knowing he left you wanting more.

"I don't think I can make it all the way back home now," he glanced down at the hardening bulge in his black jeans. You could barely make it out now that the sun had set.

The street lamp beside Yoongi's car set a soft glow to everything. The deep waters now a deep shade of black, reflected back the moons radiance.

You glanced around the lake and take in the stillness of it all. The quiet chirp of crickets somewhere in the grassy sedges. The low hum of Yoongi's engine. His soft breath fanning your face. His fingertips tenderly brushing over your lips.

You placed your hand on his crotch feeling him hardening under his jeans.

"Yoongi," your voice came out whiner than you expected. It was also the first time he heard you call his name since things ended. That did something to him he didn't quite know how to describe. But he swore he felt his heart (and his cock) grow three times in size.

"I want you so bad." The soft lighting pouring into the car made his smooth skin appear even clearer and glassier. You wanted to press your lips all over his face. Cover him in berry stained lipstick marks.

He nodded his head slightly pulling away from you to be able to shift the car into reverse. Before he could place his hand on the gear, you wrapped yours around his wrist, shaking your head 'no.'

"Here," you bit your lower lip, glancing out at the empty lake. "No one's here. No one's gonna see us," you urge, bringing his hand to your thigh.

Before he can say another word, you press your lips to his, mumbling an almost incoherent, "I can't wait," against his mouth.

"Fuck," Yoongi groaned into the kiss. "Want you too, baby."

Yoongi doesn't mean for the word to slip out, but it does.

It is messy and a little clumsy - much like how your relationship had been. But it's also what makes you and Yoongi so special to each other. There was no need for pretenses of perfection.

He scooted his seat back giving you enough room to climb over the console and into the safety of his lap. His large hands found their home along your lower back; they slipped themselves into your shirt, feeling your smooth skin all the way up to your bra strap and then back down, gripping your hips. "Y/N," he sighed, into your mouth as you grind your hips down on him.

"Let's get these off." he reached into your skirt to find your soaked panties. His long fingers traced along the wet patch you've left on them from grinding on his lap. "So wet," he mumbled almost to himself.

Lifting your hips to help him, he expertly slid them down your legs, helping you get them off. He tossed them aside before placing you back down on his lap, the steering wheel pressing into your back while he slid his hand up your thigh. Dragging each finger over the smooth surface until he was met with your wet folds. "I need to fuck you," he choked out and smashed your lips with an urgent kiss.

You let him fumble with his pants until he is able to free his leaking cock. You wished there were more light in the dim car to be able to indulge in seeing it again. The thick veins along the flushed pink shaft, the prominent head, now leaking with precum. You wanted to take it all in.

Yoongi grabbed his length in his hand guiding you as you align yourself with him. He stroke his cock along your pussy, teasingly tapping it against your clit a couple of times.

"Yoongi, please," you whined at the sudden contact, "I need you,"

"I know, baby," he shushed you, pulling you in for another kiss. He caught your lower lip between his teeth, tugging on it gently before slipping his tongue in your mouth. He grabbed your hips and pulled you in closer and you slowly sank down on his aching cock.

You winced at the stretch of his head pushing inside of you. Your arms grabbed on to the headrest behind his head and gripped it tightly as his cock stretched you open.

"Fuck," the word slipped out of your lips against his hot mouth as you felt the fullness of having his cock inside you again.

"You okay?" Yoongi pulled back and scanned your face.

"Mhm," you nodded your head. "It's just so... big," you let out a weak chuckle.

He rubbed circles along your back until his hands found their way to grip your ass.

You began to lift your hips and rocked your body on him. His large hands caught your movements as you ground yourself down on his length. Slowly at first, but quickly picking up momentum you started to ride him.

Completely feeling lost in the bliss of having so close - a part of you wished the skin of your chest could touch his. Everywhere he touched you felt like a familiar flame licking away at the time spent apart.

Like he wanted his hands to erase every minute he spent away from you.

He found his way further into your shirt, cupping your breasts in his hold. His thumbs finding your erect nipples as you bounced up and down his shaft.

The sounds of the chirping crickets and low hum of his engine - sounds that felt so loud in the stillness of the evening were now drowned out by something much more titillating.

Your breathy moans and his low groans were creating a symphony of pleasure - in that moment he swore he'd write a song someday about just how good it felt to have you in his embrace.

"Yoongi," you choked out, your legs trembled beneath you.

"Let me hear you, baby," he said into your ear, peppering sweet, wet kisses along your neck. "Who's making you feel this good?"

"You..." you tilted your head back providing more access to your neck. He sank his teeth into your skin, making you hiss in pleasure.

"You... you're making me feel so good. No one else..." you babbled as he sucked on the most delicate part of your neck.

The spot on your neck that made your thighs squeeze together - but he knew that. He knew every spot that made your heart race.

"No one else, hm?" that smug smile spread across his face again. You wanted nothing more than to kiss it off of him.

He noticed your hands gripping the back of his headrest and frowned. He grabbed your wrist and placed your hands in his hair. His eyes silently begged and you complied.

You tangled your fingers in his dark locks and tugged at the root of his long hair as you chased your orgasm.

Yoongi's moan mixed with yours as you pulled on his hair the closer you got to cumming on his cock.

"Keep going, you're doing so well..." his eyes rolled back and his hands gripped on to your hips tightly. You sensed the bruise of his fingertips engraving into your skin.

Just another way Yoongi left his mark on you.

But bruises and hickies fade over time - you weren't sure if the mark he made in your heart would ever really go away.

Not when he looked at you like you hung the stars for him. And you would. You'd give him the stars and moon and everything he asked for if he wanted.

"Gonna cum," he groaned, hiding his face in your neck peppering the skin with little kisses, moaning against your collarbone.

He felt your nails dig into his shoulders as you came undone along with him. Your fluids mixed as he filled your cunt with his cum. You collapsed forward onto him, resting your head on his shoulder as he held you. Your legs twitched as your orgasm hit.

Yoongi held you until your breathing returned to normal. He idly rubbed up and down your back, softly kissing your temples every now and then whispering sweet praises to you.

"I don't wanna move," you mumbled, your eyes closed just listening to Yoongi's soft, even breaths.

"Then don't move," he brushed his hands over your cheek. "Just stay like this with me."

You let out a tired laugh - could it really be that easy? To stay with him?

You knew there was so much that was still left unsaid.

"I should go home," you sat up straighter on his lap to take a good look at him. You hated how it felt like another goodbye.

"Y/N."

You shook your head and started to lift yourself off of him. you both winced at the feeling of his cock leaving your pussy. Yoongi did his best to help get you clean, wiping up your thighs, silently cleaning you up before you crawled back to your seat.

"Are you regretting it?" his lips were set in a straight line and his tone shot an arrow to your chest. The last thing you wanted was to hurt him.

"What?" you met his fixed look, trying to read behind the hardness in his eyes.

He lifted an eyebrow waiting for your answer. He didn't bother repeating the question he knew you heard.

"No," you reached for his hand, using both of yours to cup one of his. "Just... not knowing what happens next makes it feel like goodbye again and... I don't think I'm ready for that," you admit.

His eyes soften hearing you admit you don't want to say goodbye to him again.

You didn't know if a relationship with Yoongi would work out or not at this time. Really, what growth could have happened in the month apart to make him ready?

"One step at a time, okay?" he reminded you gently.

You nodded your head, allowing him to pull you back into another kiss.

"I wanna be someone you deserve," he whispered against your mouth.

Every part of you wanted to ignore the ways he had fucked up in the past and tell him it was all okay - but you couldn't lie to yourself or him. You both needed time.

"One step at a time," you repeated those words to him before kissing him back again.

--

THANK YOU FOR READING! was vry nervous to post bc I haven't done it in so long, but this was really fun to write! I didn't realize how much I missed it and ofc I feel so rusty so I hope you enjoyed <3

tagging some of my fav creators on here: @gimmethatagustd @raplinesmoon @wonhosmistress

(also pls lmk if you don't wanna be tagged! last time I posted I was in a writing network and it was shut down so now idk what the etiquette for sharing/tagging is im sorry fdkgjd ily I haven't been on here in a while but can't wait to catch up/re-read some of my fav fics too)

[ysljoon]

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.

[btsugarush]

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.”

Taglist

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[dambaepuff]

hey hi, could i make a request? Im happy to see another good author starting :) u also seem very nice. could i request a yoongi x preferably fem!reader? if you want you can make it a genderneutral fic. my idea was a scenario were one of them is jealous, i thought of it being her jealous of him, over something stupid, but not in a toxic way like yk just pure jealusy mixed with insecurities. And they have a little petty argument and like it ends with smut i mean they make up to eachother that way :P like smut mixed with fluff at its purest. also, i am really curious to see how u write yoongi, i see many authors making him cold and tough but i believe that he is a very caring softie haha, by the morning wood headcanons, i think you got him very well ;) thank u in advance

REGRETS (m)

Pairing: Idol!Yoongi x FEM!Reader

Genre: angst, fluff, smut, one shot, request, established relationship

Warnings: jealousy, insecurities, a petty argument, depictions of sex, crying, emotional, oral sex (f receiving), vaginal fingering, bodily fluids, penetration (vaginal), a bit of praise, light biting, squirting

Word count: 5k

Summary: uhhh idk dude just read the request that’s pretty much it

A/N: UGH I LOVE THIS IDEA!! I don’t have much experience with writing angst so this was a really nice exercise. Thank you sooo so much for all the kind words, it’s what keeps me writing. I’m also a sucker for soft Yoongi so this is right up my alley. (Also this is not proofread so lmk if there’s any mistakes or anything)

Thursday night, it’s quiet outside. You’re trying to watch a movie with Yoongi. Key word trying. His hand has been gently rubbing your thigh for a few minutes now, whenever he tries sliding it up to tease you, you grab it and put it back onto his lap. He’s clearly trying to get you heated, but it’s having quite the opposite effect. Lately you’ve felt quite out of it, your lack of confidence causing you to avoid intimacy. With Yoongi being the gentleman he is, he always accepts it when he realizes you’re not in the mood and he moves on. However, you’re starting to doubt his ability to keep going like this. What if he realizes you aren’t satisfactory to him anymore? He could easily find someone else who would be all over him in seconds.

Replaceable. That’s how you’ve been feeling lately. He could have anyone he wants, so why you? “Are you not feeling it tonight?” Yoongi’s voice startles you out of your thoughts. “Huh? Oh. No I’m sorry.” You respond, your voice growing quieter with the end of the sentence. “That’s okay, c’mere.” He mumbles before pulling you into his chest, his hand soothing down your back.

‘Will he stay with me if I keep pushing him away like this?’ Is what you keep asking yourself. On one hand you’re afraid he’ll stop loving you if you stop showing him affection. And on the other hand, you’ve been so self conscious lately about your body and if you’re doing things right you don’t know if it’s worse to ruin the relationship by pushing him away or by not being good enough. ‘Do I even deserve to be with him at this point?’

Friday, 4:37PM. You got off work early today so you decided to stop by Yoongi’s studio. He’s still working so you’re lounging around on one of the couches inside of the room. The two of you had made plans to get dinner together when he finishes up for the day which you’re really looking forward to.

A short blurry figure appears at the studio door, they raise their hand up and place three quiet knocks onto the glass. Yoongi gets up with a huff and opens the door. In front of him stands a familiar woman, you can’t quite remember her name, but you’ve seen her around the company building before.

“Here’s your coffee Suga!” She says in a cheery tone. Her eyes land on you and her smile falls a bit. “Oh, I didn’t know you would be here. Sorry I didn’t get you anything.” She apologizes with a light bow of her head. You dismiss her with a wave of your hand before going back to fidgeting with the hem of your sweater. She turns her attention back to Yoongi who is setting his drink down onto his desk. “Hey Suga, a few of us are going to that barbecue place down the street for dinner and drinks tonight. Do you guys wanna come with?” She asks with a tilt of her head, her long black hair swaying with the movement.

“Uhh, yeah?” He looks at you quickly for confirmation to which you nod your head lightly. “Yeah. Sure we’ll come.”

Yoongi continues chatting with the girl. She casually leans against the door frame, the conversation between them flowing oh so easily. ‘It took me ages to be able to talk to him that smoothly. Why couldn’t I be like her?’ You think to yourself, trying your best to not let your irritation show.

He bids her farewell and sits back down at his desk. For the remaining time you spend in his studio all you can look at is him. Your gaze burns holes into his side profile, tracing each curve of his features over and over again. Why would a man whose heart only knows kindness, whose eyes and soul are so understanding of everything be with you? Your being is rotten with unforgiving bitterness, you seethe at every imperfection like a nun enraged by sin. Why would he want you?

He’s like a wild flower. He needs to be pollinated by the love and kindness of a bee to bloom, yet he stays with you, a caterpillar feeding off of him, biting off his flesh for your gain. Eating away at him and leaving nothing. Maybe you aren’t even a caterpillar. They can eventually turn into a beautiful creature with wings of eyeful colors, yet you can’t become anything more than what you are. You’re stuck in a vicious cycle, devouring every resource without paying any mind to the fact there will be nothing left when you’re done. What does he get for loving you if you can’t be of use? You can’t make him bloom.

“(Y/N)? (Y/N)!” You snap out of your thoughts, the reality around you giving you whiplash. Yoongi is kneeling in front of you, holding your jacket out. “Let’s go, we’ll be late.” You try to take it from his hands, but instead of giving it to you he holds it up so you can slip your arms inside. Once it’s on you he turns you around and zips it up for you. “Okay, let’s go.”

As you’re walking down the long hallways towards the elevators, Yoongi notices something odd. You usually grab onto his hand the moment you start walking somewhere together, but your hand is tucked away in your pocket now. He gently pulls it out and intertwines your fingers together. You can’t bring yourself to grip onto him like usual, instead you limply keep your hand at your side, letting him hold it. He’s a bit confused by this, but nevertheless he keeps holding you, his grasp only growing tighter in an effort to reassure you.

Yang Sunhee. Her name popped up in your head the moment she sat down across from you and Yoongi at the long wooden table. She’s been leading the conversation at your part of the table for a while now, mostly talking to Yoongi. To her credit she has tried to include you into the conversation a few times, but you didn’t really give her much to work with so she gave up.

You’ve been pushing your food around your plate for a while now. It’s mostly pieces of meat Yoongi placed down onto it for you, your favorite in fact. You just can’t get yourself to even place anything into your mouth, anxiety squeezing your throat so tightly you can barely even swallow your own saliva.

Sunhee is laughing at something, her eyes bright and her large smile hidden away behind a polite hand. Yoongi is laughing too, maybe not as hard as her, but he’s still laughing. ‘Why am I not the one making him laugh right now? Am I not funny anymore?’

As you’re glaring down at your food you feel a warm hand make contact with your shoulder. “You wanna go home?” Yoongi asks quietly, tucking a stray piece of hair behind your ear. “Yes please.” You breathe out, barely audible. On the drive home Yoongi tries asking what’s wrong multiple times, but all he gets in response is a simple “I just don’t feel too well.”

It’s been a few days now since you had dinner with Yoongi’s coworkers. He realized something was wrong so he’s been giving you some space. To be quite honest you aren’t sure if the space is helping or making it worse. After spending the whole day quietly sobbing to yourself in bed you decide to see what he’s up to. You find him sitting in the living room watching some sort of documentary and looking like he’s about to fall asleep. One of his cheeks is squished against a pillow and his hair is going on all the wrong directions. He looks adorable, your heart almost breaks in two knowing this is who you’ve been pushing away lately.

Taking a seat next to him, he lifts up his blanket so you can use it too. Just as you’re getting sleepy as well his phone pings on the coffee table. Instinctively you reach down for it so you can hand it to him, but when you see the contact name annoyance squeezes at your chest.

Yang Sunhee

Sent a message

“Why is she texting you?” The question slips from your mouth before you can even think it through. “I don’t know, let me see.” He responds while extending his hand out for the phone. You peer over at the screen, shamelessly trying to see what she sent. “Ah it’s just the schedule for next week.” He says and likes the message before setting his phone back down. Now you feel a bit guilty. Why were you questioning the intentions of this woman? She’s his employee after all.

Yoongi’s large hand comes up to cup your face, his thumb gently gliding over your cheekbone. “I know that look, what’s wrong baby?” He asks, his dark eyes skimming your face in search for answers. “It’s nothing.” You respond a bit too quickly, your tone stiff. The corner of Yoongi’s lip quirks up. “You’re jealous, aren’t you?”

Your eyes shoot open, “N-no!” you sputter out a weak defense. His hand slides down to your chin, the grip tightening a bit. His smirk spreads into a smile which angers you. He thinks this is funny?

“Don’t fucking touch me right now.” You say in a way harsher manner than you intended, tearing his hand away from your face. A flash of hurt runs over Yoongi’s face, his smile instantly falling. “Don’t look at me like that! I just- I need a moment right now.” You say in an apologetic tone. “You need a moment? I’ve been giving you a moment for days now. What about me? I keep trying so hard and you don’t show an ounce of being grateful. What’s your problem?” His tone gets louder as he talks, anger evident in his facial expressions.

“Problem? Oh it’s a problem now that I can’t always feel one hundred percent happy? Go sleep with some happy drugged out whore then if that’s what you want!” Without realizing it your tone has risen to a yell, you’re standing now, no longer in the comfort of warm blankets on the couch. “Don’t yell at me!” He yells back, tears beginning to brim his eyes.

“You’re yelling too asshole! Oh you’re gonna cry? Go cry to Sunhee, maybe she can suck your dick to make it better if you can’t go a week without me sucking it!” The moment you finish the last sentence a silence falls over the apartment. Yoongi stares at you wide eyed, unable to form a single sentence.

He looks like a kicked puppy, his eyes watery and his hands trembling. Realizing you went to far the only thing that pops up in your head is leaving the apartment for a bit. You speed walk to the front door, tugging your shoes on quickly and pulling a random jacket on. “Hey, hey! Where are you going?” Yoongi follows you once he realizes what you’re doing. Unable to look at his face you grab your keys and walk out, slamming the door behind you.

Not knowing where to go you walk to the nearest park. Taking a seat on one of the benches you stare up at the moon. “Why did I say that?” You mumble to yourself, tears stinging at your eyes. Your throat contracts, guilt choking you. There’s no holding back now, you let your sobs loose, tears running down your face uncontrollably.

“(Y/N)? Is that you?” A soft voice calls out to your right. Your head shoots up, trying to find the source of the sound. There stands Sunhee, she seems to be in her pajamas with a puffer jacket thrown on top. Her hair is a mess and she’s holding a leash. A little white dog sniffs around near her legs, you assume it’s her’s.

“What’s wrong?” She asks as she sits down next to you. “Ah don’t worry about it.” You mumble, sniffling lightly. “You’re so pretty (Y/N), I don’t think I’ve ever seen someone look good while they cry before.” Sunhee says with a genuine smile. “I- uh what?” You tilt your head to the side in confusion. “If I didn’t have a girlfriend I’d be jealous of Suga for having a girlfriend as pretty as you.” She giggles lightly.

“WHAT?” The question comes out harsher than you intend, the whole situation confusing you. “Listen, if you ever leave Suga just give me a call.” She says with a playful wink. You laugh in disbelief, your tears completely gone now. “You’re funny Sunhee.” You say, still sniffling lightly. “I’m not joking, but thank you.” She giggles along with you.

“Now why are you outside so late?” She asks while pulling her dog up into her lap. “I had a fight with Yoongi, I didn’t really know where else to go. I’m kind of scared to face him right now.” You answer truthfully. “Girl, have you seen how he looks at you? That man is a goner, I’m sure whatever you argued about isn’t that bad. You should go home and apologize, you can talk it through.” She says while giving you an encouraging smile. “You think so?” You ask quietly. “I know so.”

Even with Sunhee’s encouragement you’re still unsure. Guilt wracks through your whole body, pressing down on your insides and making you nauseous. You try to be as quiet as possible when you enter the apartment, but the sound of the heavy front door closing and jingling of keys betrays you. Just as you’re taking your shoes off you hear shuffling down the hallway. Yoongi’s dark figure emerges, you’re ready to hear something nasty from him, but instead you’re met with two warm arms wrapped around you.

“Thank god you’re safe.” He mumbles before kissing the top of your head. “I’m sorry Yoongi, I’m so sorry baby. Please don’t leave me. I didn’t-“ you’re cut off by a hiccup, your tears returning. “I didn’t mean to say any of that. Please, please don’t leave me I’ll never do that again…” You sob into his chest. “Shhhhh, I know you didn’t mean it, I should’ve done some things differently too.” His hand softly pets your head.

“I’ve been trying to figure out why you’ve been acting so weird lately and I think I get it now. You look at her like she killed your dog. You know she’s a lesbian right?” You can’t help but laugh a bit at that. “Yeah I kind of found that out just now.” You mumble, your fingers tangling into the material of his shirt. “Why don’t you like her?” You can feel him softly smile against your hair as he asks the question.

“I don’t know I just-“ You try to form the right words, but they won’t come. “Ugh! She’s just so pretty and she’s really open, it feels like she’s perfect and has everything you could need and I’m just sort of me? I don’t know, it’s stupid. I’m just projecting.” Yoongi listens intently to everything you say while he takes your jacket off. “Lately I’ve felt like the shell of who I was when you met me, you know? I’m just sort of bleh- and every other woman around me seems to have her shit togehter.” A tear runs down your cheek and Yoongi chases it away with his thumb.

“It’s why I’ve been avoiding having sex lately. I just feel gross and ugly while you… you look like you were sculpted by the ancient Greeks. You need a Hera to your Zeus. I’m like a satyr or something!” You let out a bitter laugh, trying to mask your feelings. “Hmm I think we’re more like Orpheus and Eurydice. Except I don’t want to lose you the way he lost her. They were such perfect lovers, yet there was something tragic about them. What’s love without tragedy?” He softly spoke, continuing to wipe your tears. You let out a genuine laugh and hit his chest lightly. “You idiot! You don’t get it.”

“I think I at least partially get it. I mean hell you make my knees weak whenever you look me in the eye woman, and we’ve been dating for years! I’d go to the pits of hell for you a million times more than Orpheus if it meant having a bit more time to spend with you. There’s no other person that could fulfill your role in my life as well as you do. I love you for you, you’re my muse. My light.” He places a ginger peck onto your forehead.

Love and desire suddenly flood through you, grabbing the collar of his shirt you pull him into a rough kiss. A few more tears make their way past your eyelids, but these ones of relief and joy rather than sadness and frustration. Yoongi gladly accepts your advances, kissing you back firmly. He barely wastes any time trying to get his tongue intertwined with yours. Your interwoven muscles becoming a metaphor for your souls combining together, the act of physical intimacy projecting your consciousness into one being, content and whole.

One of your hands shoot up to grip his hair a bit tighter than necessary which makes him release a deep moan. He pants against your lips, trying to catch his breath, but unable to fully separate your bodies. As he had endured yearning for you such a torturous amount, how could he let you go now?

He presses you flat against the door, holding you down chest to chest. His cold hands slide up your shirt, the contrast of temperature making you shiver. Caressing the skin of your stomach so lightly it tickles, he snakes one of his hands behind your back, swiftly unclipping your bralette in one movement. You let it drop to the floor, the only thing on your mind right now being the feeling of his body on yours. With his hands lightly ghosting over your breasts now, you shudder each time one of his fingers brushed against your nipples. Slowly he pulls your shirt off, the cold night air bites at your skin making your nipples harden. Instinctively your arms shoot up to cover yourself, but Yoongi stops you. He firmly grips your wrists and pins them down above your head.

Now fully exposed to him, he looks you in the eyes before licking a fat stripe from the area between your breasts to your neck. Lightly blowing onto the wet part of your skin, you take in a deep breath from the sensation. He begins to trail kisses down to your chest, letting go of your hands so he can bring you as close to him as possible. You tug at his hair softly as he mouthes at ode of your breasts, his tongue lightly teasing the soft bud. He groans softly before kissing down lower so he can get onto his knees.

He kneels before you know, unashamed of the submissive position he’s in. His teeth occasionally graze your stomach between sloppy open mouthed kisses. Looking up at you through his lashes, Yoongi starts undoing your pants. He pushes them down as if they’re getting in the way and moves his kisses down to your thighs. His uncalculated mouth moves dangerously close to your clothed cunt. Hovering over it he purposefully breathes through his mouth so you can feel his warm breath on your skin. You gasp when he suddenly pressed his nose against your pussy and inhales deeply. You can peel the tips of your ears heating up from embarrassment, but Yoongi doesn’t seem to care in the slightest.

“Ugh, fuck how I missed this part of you.” He groans as he kisses over the thin fabric. Finding your clit almost immediately he starts to roll his tongue against it through your panties. Your arousal and his saliva mix together in the material causing an uncomfortable need for real contact.

“Yoongi, take it off already…” you whisper to him, brushing his bangs out of his face. Looking up at you with a cheeky smirk he grabs onto the hem of your underwear with his teeth, making sure to lightly graze your sensitive skin with them as he pulls down. Your panties don’t even have the chance to reach the floor and his mouth is already on you again. He runs his tongue through your folds, making you instinctively angle your hips to give him more access. Heedlessly circling your clit with his tongue, he occasionally sucks on it or flicks it. You’re unsure if his mouth is glistening from his own saliva or from your wetness, but the sloppy noises he’s making are causing you to involuntarily buck your hips into his mouth.

“You’re so beautiful like this, my sweet girl.” He mumbles as he pulls away, nuzzling his head into your thigh. Replacing his tongue with his fingers, you let out a quiet moan when he slips them inside of you. “I love having you like this, only for me to see. You know I’d never do this for anyone else, right?” He emphasizes the question by pressing his fingers down against your sweet spot. ”Shit, Yoongi. I love you so much, no one makes me cum like you do.” Your response comes out in a dragged out whine.

Satisfied with your reply his mouth returns to your clit while his fingers work you open. The combination of sensations makes an orgasm built up in your abdomen fast. “Yoon- Yoongi, I’m gonna ah- I’m gonna cum!” You moan out, trying to warn him. This only encourages him to go faster as an orgasm ripples through you in harsh waves, your head falling back against the door as your eyes roll into the back of your head. You spasm slightly as he continues to work your cunt, trying to pull him away so he doesn’t overstimulate you.

He licks off your juices from his fingers, wiping his lips with the back of his hand. As soon as he’s back on his feet you go in for a kiss, leaning on him for support while still coming down from your high. He refuses to let your lips part as he leads you to the bedroom, his shirt and pants getting lost along the way.

“Lay down baby.” He mumbled against your lips as he led you to the bed. Kneeling down between your legs he made sure you were comfortable on your pillow. No matter how basic, missionary was always the best when you needed to express your love sexually. Parting your lips he pulls you down a little so your thighs are pressed together. He grabs his erect cock out of his underwear, not even bothering to get rid of the boxers. Pumping it a few times he gives you a dopey look, a lazy smirk spreading on his face.

“You ready?” He rasps out, rubbing the tip of his cock against your swollen clit, mixing his precum together with the aftermath of your previous orgasm. “A little too ready.” You replied, running a hand through your hair. “Mmm I can tell.” He teases while spreading the natural lubricant over his cock. Slowly he pressed the tip in, “Fuck, it’s going in so easily, o barely had to prep you. You really want it, don’t you?” his brows crease together in pleasure as he slowly bottoms out. “Yes, fuck Yoongi I want your cock so bad.” Your hand shoots up to grab onto his shoulder, biting your lip at the fullness.

“Please, (Y/N). Can I move?” He murmured, holding onto your hips tightly. “Yes, fuck me Yoongi.” You replied, grabbing his face to place a wet kiss onto his lips. He let out a low moan as he started thrusting into you, the warmth and wetness of your cunt feeling better each time he fucked it. You lightly squeezed your walls on purpose knowing it drives him crazy. “Oh my- ah shit I won’t last long at all if you do that.” He said breathily, his hips jerking forward involuntarily. You hooked one of your legs onto his hips, pulling him forward so he’s pressed into your cunt as deeply as possible. The both of you groaned at that, as soon as you let go he started thrusting into you with a quicker pace. His movements rapidly increased with each slap of skin that echoed throughout the space, his head thrown back. That look on his face means he’s absolutely lost in please and that makes you proud. He molds so perfectly inside you it makes all of your doubts melt away, it’s like he was made for you.

Matching the pace of his thrust to his fingers flicking your clit, Yoongi can swear he can feel you pulsating around him. “Ah, fuck (Y/N) I think I’m gonna cum already. Shit I’m sorry it just feels too good.” He groans, the already pink tips of his ears darkening. “It’s okay, go ahead baby, cum inside me.” You breathily respond, continuing to moan with each of his thrusts. He speeds up before abruptly stopping, the feeling of his warm seed filling you up making you clench around his cock. “Wait, shit, shit run my pussy please I’m so close too.” His fingers immediately speed up on your clit, furiously flicking it as your abdomen tightens again. As the hot white pleasure rips through your whole body, making your muscles spasm you hear a wet noise. Looking down the moment you can open your eyes you see Yoongi’s lower stomach covered in a clear liquid.

“Did you just make me squirt?” You laugh in disbelief. “That’s a first.” He mumbles before pulling his cock out, various liquids gliding down your ass. “I’ll go get a towel. He quickly gets up, trying his best not to make any of his surroundings wet.

As the two of you are laying in bed, your warm baked bodies pressed together, you feel Yoongi’s chest vibrate as he speaks up. “From now on, you always have to tell me when something’s bothering you, okay?” He softly says, stroking your hair. “Okay.” You whisper back. “Promise?” He questions while raising his pinky finger up, you lock yours with his, pressing your thumbs together. “Promise.”

[ktownshizzle]

Love & Lullabies | Part 3

Pairing: Min Yoongi x female Reader

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

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

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

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

Chapter warnings: GRAB YOUR TISSUES!, this bitch is a whole ass kdrama episode and it’s gonna hurt before it gets better, happy ending tho!, themes of self-loathing, anxiety, and depression (MC), severe postpartum depression (not MC), it’s monsoon season and namgi don’t like umbrellas, (____) in the rain cliche scene, NAMTIDDIES because I can’t help myself, lastly… watch me morph this into another workplace romance/co-workers to lovers story lmao (real)

Word count: ~7k

Posting date: November 21, 2024

Notes: This is inspired by an ask/prompt sent by @yoongznme. 

I am a clown 🤡 and a liar 🤥 From pretending this is a two-shot, then a three-shot. It has become a chaptered series, atp. There is a part 4 in the works and I fully intend to end it there, but again, I may have just jinxed myself. Anyway! Enjoy, my lovelies~ 💕

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

“She’s Haneul’s mom.”

The words hit you like a punch to the gut.

“What?”

“Sung Kyung and Yoongi… they’ve been good friends for years,” Namjoon explains quickly, his tone almost apologetic. “I didn’t think they were dating. But yeah, she’s his mom. She left for months and when she came back, she'd already given birth.”

You feel like the ground has been ripped out from under you. What Namjoon said made no sense. You clutch the edge of the counter, your mind racing. “What do you mean she left…?” You have never been more confused in your entire life.

Namjoon sighs. “I don’t know all the details. You know hyung, he tells you what he thinks you need to know. The rest, he keeps to himself. But I do know they did the paternity tests and everything, and Haneul’s his, theirs.”

Theirs. It’s easier if Namjoon just slices your heart open at this rate. 

He places a tentative hand on your shoulder. “It’s better to hear it straight from Yoongi-hyung, since you guys are, you know.”

“I– I don’t know. I don’t know what we are,” you say, leaning your weight sideways against the wall to steady yourself. 

Get a grip. It’s Haneul’s day. 

Namjoon stands to shield you from the rest, in case anybody chances to look your way. You probably look like you’re about to puke. You definitely feel like it.

“Joonie…” Your voice is small when you ask, “Do you think she wants to come back now?”

Namjoon lifts his shoulder, lets it sag, “I don’t know. Maybe. She wouldn’t be here otherwise.”

Your chest tightens, a wave of insecurity crashing over you. Of course, she would want to come back now. She’s beautiful, successful, everything you’re not. And most importantly, she’s Haneul’s mother. That’s the kicker. How can you compete with that?

Spoiler alert: you can’t.

When you step back into the living room, the first thing you notice is Yoongi’s mom. She’s standing off to the side, her lips pressed into a thin line as she glares at Sung Kyung from across the room with a mixture of disapproval and barely-contained irritation.

“She shouldn’t be here,” she says quietly, her voice cold and clipped.

“Eomma,” Yoongi grits.

“She abandoned Haneul, Yoongi,” his mom hisses, her tone sharper now. “And she thinks she can just come here like nothing happened?”

Yoongi sighs, his hand briefly brushing his mother’s arm in a silent plea for calm. “Not here, eomma. Please. It’s Haneul’s birthday. Don’t make a scene.”

Of course he is siding with her.

You’re unable to tear your eyes away from Sung Kyung. How can she look so beautiful even if she looks miserable? She exchanges a few more quiet words with Yoongi near the door, her expression alternating between frustration and what looks like regret. You can’t hear what they’re saying, but you catch the way Yoongi’s shoulders stiffen, the way his jaw tightens as she reaches out to brush his arm. You see Yoongi nod, and you’re so curious, what is he agreeing to?

Finally, after what feels like an eternity, she leaves. The door is closed, but for sure this chapter isn’t. Not even close.

You entertain yourself by watching some of the BTS members play some video games. Their antics, as funny as they are, don’t really register. Your laughs are hollow, mind totally elsewhere. It’s a while before Yoongi finally finds you, after he disappeared to his studio after Sung Kyung left and went MIA for half an hour or so.

He corners you near the snack table as you pretend to be engrossed in arranging leftover cupcakes.

“Hey,” he says softly, touching your arm lightly.

You turn to face him, your smile brittle. “Hey. How’s everything going?”

“Can we talk?”

You nod, following him toward the hallway, away from the laughter and chatter. The noise completely fades as you enter his soundproof studio and he turns to face you.

He exhales deeply, running a hand through his hair. “I wanted to talk to you,” he says carefully, like he’s choosing every word with precision.

“About Sung Kyung.” you offer. He nods, shoulders visibly tense. “Yeah. And Haneul.”

The mention of Haneul makes your chest tighten, but you steady yourself, waiting for him to continue.

“She and I… we were close for a long time,” he begins, his gaze dropping to the floor. “And yeah, there was a point where I thought it was going somewhere. But then she just… disappeared.”

“Disappeared?”

“She left Korea. No warning, no explanation. Just… ghosted.” He shrugs. “I didn’t know where she went or why. She didn’t contact me for months.”

“And then one day,” he continues, “she called. Told me she just gave birth to a son. That it was mine.”

The words hang between you, heavy and jarring. You don’t say anything, letting him get it all out.

“She didn’t tell me she was pregnant,” he says, shaking his head as if he still can’t believe it. “I literally only found out after he was born.”

You feel a pang of sympathy, but then you’re also feeling angry at Sung Kyung. “Why did she wait so long to tell you?”

“She said she didn’t want to burden me. I was already doing my military service and I had that thing… that case. She thought she could handle it on her own.” He looks up at you then, his eyes dark and conflicted. “But after she had him… she couldn’t. She fell into really severe postpartum depression and some other health issues, basically telling me she was diagnosed unfit to take care of him.”

Your throat tightens, and you clasp your hands together to keep them from shaking. “So you stepped in.”

He nods, “I didn’t have a choice. Haneul needed someone, and I couldn’t—I wouldn’t turn my back on him. He’s my son. It was confirmed by a paternity test.”

“And now she’s back,” you say, more a statement than a question.

“Yeah,” he says quietly, dragging a hand down his face. “She says she’s better. That she wants to be in his life now. That she can be. And honestly… I don’t know what to do.”

You study him for a moment, your emotions warring between compassion and your own sense of inadequacy. “What do you want, Yoongi? Not for her, not for Haneul. What do you want?”

“I don’t know,” he admits, gnawing his lip before he says, “I just… I want to do what’s right for Haneul.”

The words cut deeper than you expected, but you force a small smile, nodding as if they don’t sting. “That makes sense.”

Yoongi takes a step closer as he studies your face. “But what about you?” he asks, his voice almost too gentle. “How are you feeling about all this?”

The sincerity in his question takes you off guard, and for a moment, you’re tempted to tell him everything. The ache in your chest, the jealousy you hate admitting to, the fear of losing whatever connection the two of you have built. But instead, you plaster on a smile, shoving all those emotions into a corner of your mind.

“I’m fine,” you say lightly. “It’s Haneul’s birthday. That’s what matters.”

Yoongi doesn’t look convinced, his gaze lingering on you as if he’s trying to read the truth in your expression. But after a moment, he nods, letting it drop. “Okay.”

Finally, you glance at the door, forcing yourself to straighten up. “We should probably get back to the party.”

“Yeah,” Yoongi says, stepping aside to let you pass. But as you reach for the door, his voice stops you.

“Thank you,” he says quietly.

You turn back, your brows furrowing. “For what?”

“For everything,” he says, his eyes filled with something you can’t quite name.

You don’t know how to respond, so you just nod. Because his words—why did it feel like a goodbye?

The rest of the party passes in a blur. You keep smiling, keep laughing, keep pretending everything is fine. You stand by as Yoongi helps Haneul blow out his single candle, snapping pictures of his chubby hands smashing into the frosting. 

You’re wiping stray frosting from Haneul’s cheek when you glance at him and for a split second, you see her. Sung Kyung’s face is right there, faint but unmistakable, in the shape of his eyes and the curve of his brows.

The realization hits you like a freight train. You freeze, the cloth clutched in your hand, staring at this beautiful baby boy who isn’t yours. Who will never be yours.

It’s too much. You set the muslin down, excusing yourself to the kitchen with a muttered, “I’ll grab more drinks.”

You don’t even make it to the fridge. You stand there by the counter, gripping its edge as you force yourself to breathe, to keep the tears at bay. You’ve never felt more out of place in your life.

Namjoon finds you a few moments later, leaning against the doorway with a quiet, watchful look. He doesn’t say anything, doesn’t ask if you’re okay. He just stays there, close but not too close, his presence steady and silent. You appreciate him for that—for knowing exactly what you need when you’re unraveling. He’s your best friend after all.

But even his quiet support isn’t enough to keep the emotions at bay.

Across the room, Yoongi’s eomma catches your eye. There’s something pitying in the glances she throws your way, a faint furrow of her brow that makes you want to sink into the floor. You had the feeling she knows there’s something between you and Yoongi, but now… now it feels like she’s seeing through you, like she knows exactly how small you’re starting to feel.

Because the truth is, you’re nothing.

You’re not Haneul’s mom. You’re not Yoongi’s girlfriend. You’re just someone who helps out when it’s convenient, and now that they have a nanny, you’re not even that. And it hurts. God, it hurts because you thought—maybe foolishly, maybe selfishly—that you were becoming something more. That you were becoming someone to them. That, maybe, you were becoming a family.

But now, as you stand there watching Yoongi carry Haneul to his room, barely sparing you a glance, the truth sinks in like a stone in your chest. You’re not someone. You’re a placeholder. A stand-in.

And pretty soon, just like Jiyong, they’re going to discard you. Because that’s what always happens. You’re always easy to leave behind. Always replaceable. Always useless.

The thought claws at you, and you suddenly can’t breathe. You grab your things and run. The cool night air stings your skin, but it’s nothing compared to the ache in your chest.

The tears come before you can stop them, hot and angry and full of every ounce of self-loathing you’ve tried to bury.

You glance back at the building. Maybe for the last time. You’re on the outside now—of course you are. You’ve been on the outside this entire time.

Namjoon must have noticed you were gone because he texted shortly after:

Joonie: You okay? Joonie: Don’t worry, I told them you weren’t feeling well. Go home and rest. Text me when you’re there.

That night, you ignored Yoongi’s call. You stared at the screen as his name lit up, your finger hovering over the answer button before you let it ring out. He left a voicemail. You deleted it without listening.

The next morning, you wake up to another call from him. This time, he doesn’t leave a voicemail. Instead, he sends a message.

Yoongi: Can I come over?

You stare at the text for a long time, your stomach twisting with guilt and anger and sadness. Finally, you type out a single word:

You: No

You throw your phone face-down on the couch, ignoring the way it buzzes again and again and again.

For the next few days, you ghost him.

It wasn’t easy. Every time your phone buzzes, you feel a pang of guilt, a deep ache that gnaws at your resolve. But you can’t bring yourself to answer. You need time. You need to figure out where you stood in all of this.

His messages come sporadically at first:

Yoongi: Hey, can we talk? Yoongi: I don’t know what I did wrong, but I want to fix it. Yoongi: Please. Just let me know you’re okay.

You delete most of them without reading too much into them. But then he starts sending pictures.

The first was of Haneul, grinning in his chair, wearing the capybara slippers you’d gifted him for his birthday.

Yoongi: Haneul misses you

The next day, another photo. This time, Haneul was lying on his playmat, still wearing the slippers, holding onto Bora.

Yoongi: Still missing you

Each message chips away at your resolve, but the one that breaks you comes Thursday evening:

A short video clip. In it, Haneul is sitting on the floor, babbling as he clutches Bora. And then, clear as day, he says it:

“Sa-ra.”

Your heart twists painfully. It’s clipped, but it’s unmistakably sarang. Your term of endearment for him, the nickname you’d called him since he started smiling every time he heard it. He’d never been able to say it back—not until now.

And Yoongi knows exactly what he is doing, sending this to you.

You stare at the screen for what feels like an eternity, leaving the video on loop, before finally opening your call log. His name was right at the top, of course. You hit the call button, your hands trembling as you bring the phone to your ear.

“Hello?” Yoongi’s voice comes through almost immediately.

You exhale shakily. “Hi.”

There was a pause. Then he speaks again, and you can hear his vulnerability. “I didn’t think you’d call back.”

You close your eyes, trying to steady yourself. “How could I ignore that video? Haneul… he said sarang.”

“Yeah, he’s been saying it non-stop since yesterday.”

You swallowed hard, gripping the phone tighter. “Yoongi… about… us.”

“Mmh?” He didn’t interrupt, didn’t rush you. He just waited.

“I’ve been thinking,” you began. “Haneul deserves to have a complete family. He deserves to know his mom, to have her in his life. If—if that’s what you both want.”

Yoongi was quiet for a long moment before he finally responded. “But… he needs you, too.”

Before you can back out, “Yoongi, I need space,” you say finally, your voice trembling.

There was a pause, and when he spoke again, his voice was quiet. “Okay.”

It wasn’t a protest. It wasn’t an argument. Just… okay. It’s the most ‘Yoongi’ reaction to things, and you hate it. You hate it so much.

You hang up, staring at the screen until it goes dark. Your chest felt heavy, your heart splintering in ways you didn’t know it could.

You’d told him you needed space and he said okay. The truth is, when you said space, you just wanted him to make room for you. To assure you that you belong with them. That there is a seat, warm and yours. But he didn’t.

You miss Yoongi so much it feels like a physical ache. But it’s not just him. You miss Haneul’s face, his giggles, his sleepy weight in your arms. 

Namjoon has been doing his best to check in. He sends you UberEats nearly every other day, a steady stream of meals you barely touch. The one time he came over, unannounced, he walked into what could only be described as a disaster.

“Jesus Christ,” Namjoon muttered, kicking a stray box out of his way as he entered your apartment. The laundry basket was overflowing, your trash can piled up. You were in a 2-day old shirt, hair a rat’s nest, and you’re slouched on the couch with an empty brain.

Namjoon stared at you, his disappointment radiating off him. “Y/N, you can’t keep doing this to yourself.”

“I’m fine,” you lied, barely looking at him.

He scoffed. “Fine? You look like you’ve been run over by a truck. Twice.”

“So dramatic.” You rolled your eyes, but the truth of his words stung.

Namjoon crouched in front of you, placing his hands on your knees. “Move in with me for now. You know I have the space. You can’t stay here like this. It’s not healthy.”

“I’m not moving in with you, Joon,” you said, shaking your head. “I’m not your charity case.”

He sighed, rubbing his temples. “You’re not a charity case. You’re my best friend. And I’m not gonna sit back and watch you drown in your own misery.”

“I’m not gonna live in your and Soyeon’s sex den,” you snapped unnecessarily.

Namjoon just looked at you, shook his head, before he flopped beside you on the couch. He fed you, forced you to go take a shower, and watched some shitty reality show with you. He eventually left, though you could feel the weight of his disappointment long after the door shut behind him. If he only knew how thankful you were of those visits.

A week later, you find yourself standing in front of Yoongi’s apartment. You didn’t plan this. You don’t even know what you’re hoping to achieve by being here. All you know is that the ache of missing them—missing him—has become unbearable.

You knock on the door before you can second-guess yourself.

Mrs. Kwon opens it, her expression immediately uneasy. “Y/N,” she says, her tone cautious. “You should come back another time.”

“Why?” you ask, your voice sharper than you intended.

She hesitates, her lips pressing into a thin line. “It’s just… not a good time.”

“I need to see them,” you insist, stepping forward.

“My dear girl, please listen—”

But you’re already past her, your determination overriding her warnings.

When you step into the living room–

Fuck.

There she is. Sung Kyung, sitting on the floor with Haneul in her lap, holding a plush toy you don’t recognize. She’s smiling at him, her voice soft as she tries to coax him into playing with it. Adding salt to the wound–Bora, the capybara plush you gave Haneul, is discarded carelessly in the corner near the diaper pail.

Your heart stops, and before you can control yourself, you take a step back, your movement catching Sung Kyung’s attention. She looks up, confused. She doesn’t know you, why would she? 

Yoongi’s voice comes from behind you, and you turn to see him emerging from his studio, his brows furrowed in confusion. “Who rang the—”

His eyes widen when he sees you, but you’re already moving, your feet carrying you toward the door in a blind rush.

“Wait—Y/N!”

You barely hear him as you bend down and snatch Bora from the floor. Haneul’s voice suddenly cuts through the air, his tiny, excited voice calling out, “Sa-ra! Sa-ra!”

Tears blur your vision as you wrench the door open and run, Yoongi’s voice calling after you, but you don’t stop.

It’s raining when you step outside. Great, because this day couldn’t get any worse. The cold droplets soak through your clothes almost instantly. You don’t have an umbrella, but you don’t give a shit. Tears stream down your face mixing with the rain.

You don’t know how far you get before you feel it—a warmth against your back, arms wrapping around you tightly.

Yoongi’s voice cracks as he says your name, his rain-soaked body like a furnace against your shivering frame. “Please.”

He sounds like he is begging, but why? What is he asking? What does he want from you?

You shake your head, your voice breaking. “This was a mistake. I shouldn’t have come.”

“Then why did you?” he asks, his tone desperate, his chest heaving as he pulls you tighter.

“Because I thought… I thought I had a place here. But I’m such a fucking idiot.”

“Don’t say that,” he pleads, his voice barely audible over the rain as he turns you to face him. His hands come up to cradle your face. He was starting to shake too, the pads of his fingers damp against your skin. His eyes search yours, desperate, and before you can stop him—or yourself—he closes the space between you and kisses you.

Against the pouring rain, your lips press against each other, clumsy, shaky, unexpectedly urgent. His lips move like he’s trying to say all the things he can’t find the words for, like this is his only way to make you understand. And for a second, maybe a minute, maybe more, you let him.

You feel his ragged breaths as he licks into your mouth, his hair brushing your temple, droplets trailing down your skin. His hand slides from your cheek to the nape of your neck, fingers threading gently through your wet hair. It’s tender and fierce all at once, like he’s afraid you might vanish if he lets go.

But there is a tinge of bitterness cutting through the taste of his kiss. This isn’t enough—not to fix everything, not to erase the doubt clawing at the edges of your mind. Not to prevent the new thoughts from worming its way inside.

Sung Kyung is in his apartment right now. So maybe it’s not just about Haneul anymore. Maybe they’re reconciling. Trying to sort out their own feelings that they put on ice. Yoongi did say he thought their relationship was going somewhere. 

God, you do not want to be some homewrecker. You cannot do that to Haneul. Weakly you try to pull back. 

But Yoongi doesn’t let you. His lips chase yours, teeth gently sinking into your plush and you’re unable to stifle the moan from your mouth at the delicious sting. You open up to him, lips sliding against his as his other hand grips your waist now, pulling you closer until you can really feel the heat of his body through the drenched fabric of his clothes. The world feels like it’s spinning, everything is blending into a dizzying blur, and you don’t know how to stop it.

Your hand hovers at his chest, not pushing him away but not pulling him closer either. Your heart is screaming to hold on just a little longer. But your head is telling you—

“No,” you whisper, breaking away as quickly as you can without slipping on the slick ground. Your chest heaves as you clutch Bora tighter against you.

Yoongi stands frozen, his lips parted as if he’s about to speak, his dark eyes locked on yours. The rain clings to his lashes, his hair plastered to his forehead, and for a moment, he looks completely lost.

“I can’t do this, Yoongi,” you choke out, your voice shaking. “I just… I can’t.”

And before he can stop you, you turn and run again, your feet splashing through puddles as you make your way to the nearest bus stop. By some miracle, you make your way home in one piece. Barring one vital organ that’s discarded somewhere in Hannam.

My tea's gone cold, I'm wondering why I Got out of bed at all The morning rain clouds up my window And I can't see at all And even if I could, it'd all be gray But your picture on my wall It reminds me that it's not so bad, it's not so bad - Stan, Eminem

Your apartment is cold and quiet, the soft patter of rain against the windows the only sound. The mug of tea on your table has long since gone cold, untouched, as you sit curled up on the couch, staring at that grainy selca Yoongi sent you weeks ago. 

You’re startled out of your thoughts by the sound of the door opening. Namjoon steps in, shaking off the rain and holding a grocery bag in one hand, his hoodie slung over his shoulder. He’s soaked to the bone, but he flashes you his dimples anyway.

“You know,” he starts, setting the bag on the counter, “for someone who always claims they’re fine, you sure as hell don’t look it.”

“Don’t start, Joon,” you mumble, pulling the blanket tighter around yourself.

Namjoon ignores you, glancing around the apartment with a disapproving look. “Seriously? It still looks like you just moved in. No decorations, no warmth. This part could be a photo wall or something…”

You roll your eyes. “Alright, Mr. Art influencer.”

“I need a dry shirt,” he says, gripping the edge of his tee and pulling it up and over his head without fanfare.

You’ve never felt attracted to your best friend in any physical or sexual way ever (seriously, ew), but you can appreciate a good physique when you see one.

“Wow, Joonie, are your tiddies getting bigger?” you say as you stand to find a shirt for him from your makeshift closet.

“You’re an idiot.”

Before you can respond, the doorbell rings. Namjoon straightens, wiping his hands on his pants. “You expecting someone?”

You shake your head.

Namjoon strides to the door, glancing through the peephole with a tsk before pulling it open. He doesn’t seem to care that he’s shirtless, which would be awkward enough if it were anyone else standing there. 

But it’s Yoongi.

Yoongi stands in the hallway, his expression strained, his eyes immediately scanning the room behind Namjoon until they land on you, curled on the couch. You clutch the t-shirt you were about to lend Namjoon tighter against your chest, unsure whether to feel relief, anger, or the painful longing that’s been gnawing at you for days.

“I need to talk to her,” Yoongi says, his voice calm but heavy with emotion.

Namjoon steps into the doorway, crossing his arms as he blocks the entrance. “Maybe not today, hyung.”

Yoongi’s jaw tightens, but he doesn’t flinch. “I have to. I need to explain.”

Namjoon doesn’t budge, his voice soft but firm. “Sorry, hyung. Not after everything.”

Yoongi’s eyes flick to you again, desperate. “I just… fuck,” He swallows hard, his voice breaking slightly. “I can’t let her think she doesn’t matter to me. She does. More than anyone.”

Namjoon hesitates for the first time, glancing back at you. His expression softens briefly, but when he turns to Yoongi again, it’s your voice that responds.

“Yoongi.” Your voice is quiet, but it cuts through the tension like a blade. Both men turn to you, and the hope that flashes across Yoongi’s face makes your lungs shrivel.

You grip the fabric in your hands tighter, willing yourself to stay firm. “You should go.”

Yoongi’s lips part as if to argue, but the look in your eyes silences him. He nods once, slowly, his expression crumbling for just a moment before he turns away.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, his voice so soft you almost don’t hear it.

Namjoon watches him for a moment longer before stepping back into the apartment and shutting the door.

The first step is always the hardest.

Namjoon didn’t sugarcoat anything when he told you to get your shit together. “I love you,” he said bluntly after Yoongi left that rainy night, “but you’re the only one who can pull yourself out of this. No one else is coming to save you. Not me. Not Jiyong. Not Yoongi. Just you.”

You hated hearing it, but he was right.

So you took the first step: you called a therapist. Twice a week, you sat in that tiny, clinical room and talked about everything you’d buried for years. The abandonment issues you’d carried since childhood. The shame you felt after your relationship with Jiyong fell apart. The way you constantly give pieces of yourself to others, just like you did with Haneul and Yoongi, leaving nothing for yourself. Thinking that’s okay.

Session by session, the fog began to lift. Slowly, you started to understand that happiness couldn’t come from someone else, no matter how deeply you loved them. It had to come from you—built piece by piece, nurtured, protected.

You realized that loving yourself wasn’t selfish. It was necessary. And for the first time in months, you began to believe you were worthy of it.

At home, you started small. One night, you finally tackled the pile of laundry that had been haunting you for weeks. Another night, you scrubbed down the kitchen until the counters gleamed. And then one weekend, you went to IKEA and bought a bed frame—not just a functional one, but a beautiful one that made you feel excited to wake up in the mornings.

You even hung up paintings on the walls, little pops of color that made the apartment feel like it was actually yours. Namjoon gave you some from his collection, too.

Running sucks, but it became your nightly ritual. At first, it was hard. Your legs ached, and your lungs burned. But the more you pushed yourself, the better it felt—the rush of endorphins, the rhythm of your feet hitting the pavement, the way your thoughts quieted for just a little while.

Bit by bit, you started to feel lighter. Like you were shedding layers of weight you didn’t even realize you were carrying.

And then there was Yoongi.

He was still a constant name on your phone, though the tone of his messages had shifted over time. At first, his texts were full of apologies and pleas for a second chance:

Yoongi: I know I messed up. Please let me make it right.

Yoongi: I’m sorry for everything. I hate that I hurt you.

Yoongi: I need you, Y/N. I should have told you sooner.

Yoongi: Can I come over? I really want to explain everything.

Yoongi: I’m an idiot.

Yoongi: I’ll wait for you. Just tell me when you’re ready to talk.

Then came the texts about Haneul:

Yoongi: Haneul misses you. Not to one-up my own kid, but I miss you more.

Yoongi: Han said your name today. He kept pointing at the door like he was waiting for you to walk in.

Yoongi: I bought him a new Bora. This giraffe is lame. [image attached]

Yoongi: Han’s been carrying Bora 2.0 everywhere. He even tried to feed it rice last night.

And now, weeks later, his messages had settled into something different.

Yoongi: I was in the studio all day, and Hobi made me take a break. We ended up eating too much fried chicken and now I have a zit.

Yoongi: How was your run today? Namjoonah says you’re joining a mini marathon. Good luck!

Yoongi: Still have boxes of Silver Moon tea. It’s too bougie for my ghetto taste buds. Lmk if you want it. Yoongi: Actually, no need. I'll send it thru Namjoonah.

Yoongi: I fucked up the choreography to our new track at Mubank today like an amateur. I hope you didn’t get to watch it.

They were simple, almost mundane. But Yoongi’s texts had a way of hitting you square in the chest. You think back to that conversation in his home, the one where he admitted how lonely he sometimes felt—how he wished for someone to talk to about the little things, the big milestones, everything in between. Someone to share life with. And now, with every message he sends, it feels like he’s choosing you.

Even though weeks have passed without seeing him, he’s still there. Reaching out. Trying to stay connected. Even when you never reply.

But his messages have become tiny bursts of dopamine in your otherwise quiet days. You’re both surprised and relieved he hasn’t stopped trying, that he hasn’t grown tired of pouring himself into the void of your Kakao.

Namjoon told you recently that Yoongi and Sung Kyung have started co-parenting Haneul. She gets supervised visits twice a month. At first, the green-eyed monster threatened to come out. But your best friend tells you that Yoongi never wanted to rekindle anything with Sung Kyung, which gave you some peace. Maybe if you’d been braver back then, you could’ve asked Yoongi yourself. Maybe if Yoongi had been better at communicating, he would have told you then it wouldn’t have felt like such an uphill climb.

But, he was also having such a difficult time, sorting through his own circumstances. And your insecurities at the time were too heavy, too overwhelming to sift through. You probably wouldn’t have believed him then. The progress you’ve made now—to love yourself first—feels hard-won and necessary. And maybe Yoongi also needed to go on a journey to really know what he wants for him and Haneul.

You’ve come to realize through all this that you don’t really hate Sung Kyung. Maybe you were angry on behalf of Yoongi and Haneul for all the secrets she kept, for the ways her choices hurt them both. There was even a night when you found yourself doing a Naver search on postpartum depression. You hadn’t understood how debilitating it could be, how it could turn even the strongest person into a shell of themselves. It didn’t excuse everything, but it gave you perspective, especially as you battle your own demons.

Still, as you journey forward, there are moments when you imagine the “what ifs” with Yoongi, if Sung Kyung hadn't showed up that day. Sometimes, late at night, your mind drifts back to him. You replay his kiss, remembering the way it felt, the way he tasted. You can still conjure the image of his face under the rain, the way he looked at you in that fleeting, heart-wrenching moment.

You wonder if he thinks about it, too. You know he’s waiting. You just hope that when you’re finally ready to let him back in, he’ll still be there—on the other side, willing to try again.

One evening, Namjoon called, his tone unusually excited. “Hey, I’ve got something for you.”

“No, I don’t need more lube, I’m stocked,” you joked, just to be a piece of shit.

“Shut up and listen,” he said, laughing. “Hybe’s opening a daycare for employees’ kids. They need someone to run it. You’re perfect for this.”

Your stomach flipped. “What? Joonie, I don’t even—”

“Don’t even try to argue,” he interrupted. “You have a degree in early childhood education. You love kids. This was your literal job in the states. C’mon, this is made for you.”

“What if I’m not ready?”

Namjoon sighed. “You are. I’ve seen how much work you’ve been putting in. You’re stronger than you think. Just… apply. The worst they can do is say no.”

You’re quiet, so he added. “...and they won’t. I’ll have each member of Bangtan sign a recommendation letter for you.”

“You’re too much, Joonie,” you laugh. But you surely won’t put it past him to do that. “But ok, I’ll apply.”

So you did. And a week later, you got the call.

Your first day at Hybe’s daycare center feels like a dream you didn’t know you had. The space is beautiful—sunlight streams through floor-to-ceiling windows, casting a warm glow over the colorful toys, tiny tables, and pastel murals. There are only three kids who pre-registered, but you were expecting more to walk in.

Namjoon is there, truly your ride or die, sitting casually on your desk with his ever-supportive grin. “You nervous?” 

“Nope,” you say, trying to sound confident. But the way your voice wavers gives you away.

Namjoon chuckles. “Relax. You’re going to crush this.”

Before you can respond, the door swings open, and in walks Hobi with Yunjin and their toddler, Jeongyeon. The little girl looks adorable in her sunflower-patterned overalls, her tiny pigtails bobbing as she walks toward the play area.

“Jeongyeon, say hi to teacher Y/N,” Yunjin says, gently guiding her forward.

“Hi!” Jeongyeon squeaks.

You crouch down to her level. “Hi, Jeongyeon! You’re gonna have so much fun today.”

“First kid of the day, ayeeee!" Hobi says, high-fiving Yunjin, before she runs to Jeongyeon who is mounting the toy pony. Then he turns to you, “Congratulations, Y/N.”

Just as they’re leaving, Namjoon nudges you. “By the way, did you know there’s a capybara mascot today?”

“What?” you blink, confused.

Before Namjoon can explain, something soft and warm suddenly envelops you in a hug. You turn to see a capybara mascot wrapping its plush arms around you, its giant head tilted adorably to the side.

“What the…” You laugh, surprised, grasping its arm. “Hybe really went all out, huh?”

Namjoon smirks. “Of course. First-day activations are a big deal here. And look at that, your favorite animal. What a coincidence.”

You grin, stepping back to look at the mascot. “Guess I’m a little biased, but this might be the cutest thing ever.”

The mascot gives you an exaggerated thumbs-up. 

Shortly, Haneul arrives. The moment you see him toddling through the door, all your nerves, all the weight you’d carried for weeks—gone. There’s no ache, no tension. Just pure, uncomplicated happiness.

His nanny, a kind older woman, walks him in, holding his hand as he peers curiously around the room.

Haneul bounds toward you giggling, his gummy smile stretching wide as he lets go of the nanny’s hand and waddles toward you.

“Hi, sarang,” you say, crouching down to scoop him into your arms. He smells like baby lotion and sunshine, and your chest feels full as he buries his face in your shoulder. “I missed you.”

You glance toward the door, your eyes darting around instinctively, but there’s no sign of Yoongi. A small pang of disappointment settles in your stomach before you shake it off. He’s probably holed up in his studio, working on something brilliant. It would have been nice to see him though.

The capybara mascot wanders over, drawing Haneul’s attention instantly. His eyes light up as he points at it, giggling.

“Appa!” Haneul says excitedly, punching the knee of the mascot with his tiny fists.

You laugh, brushing a hand through his soft hair. “That’s not your appa, Haneul. He’s probably in one of the big studios upstairs working very hard right now.”

The mascot gives you a pat on the head, and something about its movements feels oddly familiar. But you don’t dwell on it, too caught up in Haneul’s delighted squeals as the mascot does a little dance for him. It sure loves to shake its ass.

For the rest of the morning, you’re in your element, guiding the kids through activities, wiping tears, and singing songs during circle time. Every so often, Haneul points at the mascot and calls out “Appa!” again, and you can’t help but laugh.

And if the capybara mascot seems to hover a little longer around Haneul, or if it lingers near you whenever there’s a chance, well… you just chalk it up to coincidence.

(One day, much later, you’ll find out the truth. But for now, you’re content not knowing.)

That night, your phone buzzes in your pocket, and you pull it out to find another message from Yoongi.

Yoongi: Congratulations on your first day!

You stare at the screen, your thumb hovering over the keyboard. For the first time in weeks, as you look at your thread of messages from him, you let yourself smile—a small, cautious smile, but a smile nonetheless. And for the first time in months of radio silence, you type up your first reply to him.

You: Thanks, Yoongi. I’m really happy. :)

His reply came almost immediately.

Yoongi: You deserve it

And it may have taken a while, but you finally believe that. So you decide you are also finally ready to do this.

You: Can we talk? Yoongi: giv me 10 mins im cming overr

:)

A/N: 

Alright!! Wheeeew! You good? How are you feeling?!?!? As usual, please sound off in the comments. 💕

I just want to say that am so proud of this chapter. I think I wrote my best, angst work here. Plus - Kissing in the rain? Namtiddies? A taste of smau? Hee hee. 🤗 

If you make it to here, thank you so so much for reading this story, you lovely, beautiful, human! xo

Part 4 is coming uppp and it’s gonna be a doozy~ 🤭

P.S. As some of y’all know I am a mom and I have experienced post-partum depression before. It was nowhere near the severity of how it is depicted here (a condition that is grave and rare because the character also has other mental struggles), but I empathize. I cannot imagine being truly unfit to care for my own baby. So I request that we do not vilify L&L! LSK. She fucked up real baddd, she could’ve involved Yoongi earlier, etc etc but again she is trying to do better. Plusss, it needs to be said, she does not want Yoongi. Gasp. Y’all can rest easy. He’s yours! 💕

& If you want to read more of my work, please check out my masterlist. & If you enjoy my work and want to buy me a ko-fi, I'd appreciate it.

Taglist:

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@direnediane @glossdebut @maryhopemei @theresstardustinmyblood @mggv97

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[glossdebut]

study break | MYG

✧ PAIRING: yoongi x fem!reader

✧ SUMMARY: Yoongi was an extremely effective tutor, until he wasn’t. As it turns out, dating the person who is singlehandedly responsible for bringing up your Fundamentals of Music Theory grade isn’t the smartest move in the world. 

✧ TAGS: college au, smut, fluff

✧ WARNINGS: oral (f. receiving), vaginal fingering, slight overstimulation

✧ AUTHOR'S NOTE: okay, so this is NOT price of fame chapter two, nor is it the seokjin fic that i’ve been teasing for weeks. this is instead a secret third thing, inspired by my own post that has been living rent free in my brain for the past couple of days. i promise POF2 and the seokjin fic are both coming, but i had to get this out before i lost my damn mind. not beta read, so feel free to inform me of any mistakes i missed. P.S. i know the header isn’t debut yoongi, don’t fucking @ me about it!! i had this photo on hand ):

✧ WORDCOUNT: 2.2k words

Yoongi was an extremely effective tutor, until he wasn’t.

As it turns out, dating the person who is singlehandedly responsible for bringing up your Fundamentals of Music Theory grade isn’t the smartest move in the world. 

Things were so much easier when you—wrongfully—assumed he was an asshole. At least then, the arrangement was clear: you met him in the library, tried not to get annoyed at what a know-it-all he seemed to be for an hour, and then went back to your dorm with a slightly easier method of memorizing the circle of fifths under your belt. It went on like that for weeks. Quick and effective, mostly painless.

But then, when awkward small talk developed into genuine interest, you got to know him.

You learned that the reason he never takes notes in class is because he doesn’t have to. He taught himself all of the basics of music theory years ago, could’ve tested out and moved on to a more advanced class, but he wanted an easy A in his course load. You learned that he’s a classical piano major. He likes it just fine, but it’s really a means to an end. You learned that he writes his own raps, performs them at underground shows with a group of friends some weekends, that that’s what he really wants to do. You learned that he’s not an asshole and he’s just shy, that he’s been working up the courage to ask you out all semester.

You learned even more about him on your first date.

Such as: he’s the self-proclaimed master of grilling meat, and he’ll load up your plate for you before he even thinks of feeding himself. He may act like he’s not interested in going to the noraebang, but with just the slightest bit of insistence from you he’ll fold like a piece of paper. He thinks it’s cute when you snatch his snapback right off of his head and put it on your own. Even cuter when you fumble through a verse of Epik High’s ‘Love Love Love,’ squealing happily when he joins in. 

And: he kisses like he’s got something to prove. Knows all the right ways to use his tongue. Makes a low noise in the back of his throat when you do something he likes. Isn’t the slightest bit shy about pulling you into his lap, nor about slipping his hand into your panties right there, Epik High forgotten in favor of making you cum around his skilled fingers. 

So. Yeah.

Yoongi is no longer an effective tutor, because instead he is a fucking distraction.

You’re supposed to be studying. You had been studying, both of you putting up a valiant effort for a full hour and a half. But just as you’d gotten a firm grasp on the seven musical modes—Ionian, Dorian, Phrygian, Lydian, Mixolydian, Aeolian, Locrian—-Yoongi was whining, insisting on taking a break. You tried to put up a fight, but you’re especially weak when Yoongi gets all sulky, soft pink lips pulled into a pout.

Notecards tossed aside, your fifteen minute study break quickly devolves into half an hour of making out on Yoongi’s bed. As soft music filters into his dorm room from his laptop, you lose track of time with his tongue sliding against yours, the occasional sting of his teeth on your bottom lip because he knows you like it. When you feel his erection pressed against your hip it quickly becomes very clear that you’re both done studying for the time being.

The way Yoongi kisses you never fails to make you crazy. His lips on yours are gentle but commanding at the same time, his hands in your hair holding your head exactly where he wants it as he licks into your mouth like he owns it. When he pulls away, you barely have a chance to catch your breath before he’s trailing hot, open-mouthed kisses down your neck. Your hips rock up against his, desperate for friction. 

“Baby,” Yoongi murmurs against your skin. His hands slide down from your hair to gently tug at the waistband of your jeans, an index finger circling teasingly around the button. “Wanna eat you out. You want that?”

“Yeah,” you breathe, gasping when he nips at the underside of your jaw. Your voice is high, needy, foreign to your own ears. He’s good at that—at pulling sounds out of you that you didn’t know you could make.

He wastes no time in peeling your jeans down your legs, tossing them off the bed and out of his way. Yoongi likes to have as much space as possible when he eats you out, you’ve learned. He likes to take his time, spread you out as much as he can on his shitty dorm-provided twin size mattress. Just because he can make you cum in record time—and he can—doesn’t mean he likes to. Not when he’d much rather drag it out, savor you in every imaginable way until you can’t take it anymore. 

You know you’re in for it when he doesn’t take your panties off right away. Instead, when he settles between your thighs, all he does is look for a moment, his gaze laser-focused on the growing wetness seeping through the cotton. 

It lasts long enough that you start to squirm, his eyes flicking up to meet yours at the sudden movement.

“A-are you…?” you start, but you trail off, suddenly feeling way too fucking shy for something you’ve done with him more times than you can count at this point. 

“Yeah,” he hums, looking up at you with an amused smirk. “Yeah, I’m getting to it, sweetness. I just wanted to look at you for a second. Is that okay?”

You shiver, swallowing thickly as you nod.

“You sure?” he teases, pressing a soft kiss to the inside of your thigh, so close to where you want him. “You don’t have anywhere better to be?”

“Shut up, Yoongi,” you complain, sitting up for a moment to flick him on the forehead.

“Yah, so disrespectful,” he admonishes with a bite right where he’d just kissed. “I’m just playing. I know you don’t wanna be anywhere else.”

Your eyes narrow at him. “I don’t,” you agree, suspicious. He’s up to something.

“No, you don’t,” Yoongi hums knowingly, holding your gaze as he presses a kiss right to your clit. It makes your breath hitch, even with your panties subduing the feeling. “Because you love the way I eat this pussy, don’t you, baby?”

The answer is yes, of course. Yoongi always makes you feel so good no matter what he’s doing, but eating you out is definitely where he excels. But something about how cocky he’s being makes something stir inside of you—-makes you feel a little bold, a little mean. 

“When you actually get around to it, yeah.”

Yoongi chuckles darkly, snapping the waistband of your panties against your hip. When he lifts his head his eyes are all pupil. “It’s like that, huh?” he asks, his tongue running over his teeth.

“Maybe,” you say, goading.

He clicks his tongue, dipping down to lick a broad stripe over your pussy without any warning. When he reaches your clothed clit, he wraps his lips around it and sucks hard, tearing a surprised moan from you.

“F-fuck!” Your fingers tangle in his hair, desperate for something to hold on to, but the overwhelming pleasure is gone as quickly as it came.

“Such a brat,” Yoongi mumbles, sinking his teeth into the softness of your inner thigh again, harder this time. “Just wanted to take my time, treat you nice. But if you want it like this, fine.”

Mercifully, his fingers hook into the waistband of your panties. He roughly drags them down your legs until they’re thrown onto the floor, out of sight just like your jeans.

You gasp when his fingers instantly slide over your slippery cunt, making you gasp. “You get this wet just from pissing me off?” he scoffs, and you shake your head. 

“N-no,” you whimper.

“No?” Yoongi asks, tilting his head at you with a smirk. You feel like you’re going to die when his fingers find your clit, rubbing in punishing little circles. “Tell me what gets you this wet, then, baby.”

“You!” you moan. It feels embarrassingly fast, but you’re close. You’re gonna cum before he even gets his mouth on you properly. Maybe that’s his goal. “You, fuck, Yoongi.”

“That’s right,” he purrs. “You gonna cum already, pretty girl? Before I even get to taste you?”

Oh, he knows exactly what he’s doing. Motherfucker. 

You wouldn’t be able to protest even if you wanted to, your brain already succumbing to the pleasant buzz of your impending orgasm. All you can do is squirm and rock up against Yoongi’s fingertips, completely at his mercy.

“That’s okay,” Yoongi continues, unbothered as you shake and moan in front of him. “I know you can give me another one. Go ahead, sweetness. Cum for me.”

Your release tears through you, sudden and intense and all-consuming. You’re sure there are words coming out of your mouth, but between the heat spreading through your body and the static buzzing in your ears, you honestly have no idea what they could be. Yoongi’s fingers keep rubbing at your abused clit until you’re trembling, gasping for breath between moans.

“Filthy girl,” he hums. Whatever you said must’ve been good, because he sounds almost proud of you as he runs his hands over your thighs. “You gonna let me take my time now?”

“Yes,” you gasp, still reeling from your orgasm. Yoongi taking his time is exactly what you need right now, or else you’ll go into complete overdrive. Absently, you think that was his plan all along, but that thought melts away as soon as Yoongi dips down and delves his tongue into your cunt, slow and thorough. 

Your brain? Empty. Brain so fucking empty.

“Shit,” he groans against you, his voice so low and gravelly you can feel the vibration of his words against your pussy. “You always taste so fucking good after you cum for me.”

You thread your fingers through his hair again, moaning long and low as he spreads you apart with his thumbs and dives back in. His nose nudges just slightly against your clit as he licks into you, the barely-there contact making your eyes roll back in your head.

“Yoongiiii,” you moan, earning an appreciative moan from him as he dips his tongue into your entrance.

Your first orgasm took you by surprise, but you can tell already that this one is going to be a slow burn, tendrils of heat that never really got a chance to fade spreading through your body, adagio.

As promised, Yoongi takes his sweet time. He sets an agonizing rhythm: licking into you, dragging his tongue up your pussy, gently sucking your clit into his mouth, over and over again until you’re practically a puddle on his mattress.

“Feels so fuckin’ good,” you mewl, your thighs shaking around his head. You’d blush at the sounds he’s producing between your legs, slurping and sucking at you, if you weren’t so fucked out. Instead, all it does is turn you on even more, make you even wetter for him. 

Yoongi pulls back, huffing a laugh through his nose. “I know, baby,” he murmurs soothingly. “You ready to cum again?”

Wordlessly, you nod, squeezing your eyes shut. Two fingers tease at your entrance, getting nice and wet before Yoongi slides them in, and just like that, you’re ready to burst.

“Nnngh—fuck, ‘m so fucking close,” you slur, grasping at his hair as he pumps his fingers into you.

“Give it to me,” he says, before sucking your clit into his mouth again and making stars burst behind your eyelids.

His fingers curl just right, and then you’re moaning brokenly, bucking up against his fingers and mouth as you cum again.

It feels like it lasts forever. Yoongi moans around your clit as you clench around his fingers, squeezing tight tight tight as heat crashes over you in waves. You feel his fingers withdraw, and then his tongue is fucking into you again, licking every last drop he’s earned from you.

He only breaks away when you’re pushing at his head, overstimulated and spent.

“God, you’re so sexy,” he rumbles, climbing up the bed so he’s on top of you, bracing himself on his elbows. He’s one to talk. He always looks so good like this—swollen lips and dark eyes, the bottom half of his face slick from eating you out so fucking well. “You can just cum and cum for me, can’t you?”

“You are insane,” you breathe, grasping at the strings of his sweatshirt to pull him in for a kiss, tasting yourself on his lips. 

Yoongi chuckles, pulling away just to press his forehead against yours. “You like it,” he says.

“I like you,” you correct, closing your eyes. “Even though I’m going to fail my final because of you.”

That earns a real laugh from Yoongi, his nose scrunching. “You’re not gonna fail.”

“I am,” you say, nodding sagely. “But it’ll be worth it.”

“That so?” He presses another kiss to your lips, nuzzling his nose against yours.

“Mhmm,” you hum. “Besides, I’ll just find a better tutor next semester when I have to retake.”

That earns you a sharp jab of Yoongi’s fingers to your side, but he’s got one of those gummy smiles on his face as you squeal under him, so no harm done.

✧ shoot me a reply or an ask if you enjoyed this fic! feedback is always appreciated <3 join my taglist if you want to be tagged in future fics!

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[dumpywrites]

Cat-enaries - Min Yoongi / Suga

Part two of Cat-astrophe 

Summary: all these series of meaningful acts, but you still don’t know where your relationship stands. 

Genre/tags: Fluff, smut (protected sex, vanilla)

Pairing: Yoongi x she/her/afab reader

a/n: this is my first time writing smut! T_T

Ever since that eventful night you spent at Yoongi’s place, where both of you got drunk and eventually ended up sleeping on the same bed together (just sleeping!), and him wanting to get to know you more, you continued to see each other more and more. Mostly after you came back home from work, but it could be on weekends too if both of you did not have any other plans. 

After a while you began to know some of Yoongi’s friends, and same thing for him as well. He had a small circle but you were surprised on how they bring out the best out of him. He had been doing all these small gestures just like randomly giving you snacks, offering to babysit your cat when you were busy, or just simply wanting your company while he was producing music. Occasionally he would invite you to a party from his management, where you met his co-workers. 

He would only introduce you by your name though, never any label following behind the introduction. A friend? A neighbor? No, just your name. All these things he had done, and never once did he ever mention about relationship, or at least to put a name on your situation. 

It had only been three, going on four months, you kept telling yourself. Maybe he wanted to get to know you slowly and throughly and did not want to rush things. But then again, you knew how straightforward Yoongi was and he would had at least said something about it if that was the case. Maybe it was for the best, reminding yourself of the traumas you got from your past relationships, maybe it was better to take things slowly. But what made you anxious was the thought of falling by yourself.

Tonight you both agreed to watch a horror movie together at your apartment, with the occasion being you just got a promotion. The promotion happened two weeks prior, but both of you were busy. Yoongi had already sent you a dozen of donuts as a celebratory gift, but you insisted on wanting to spend some quality time with him.

“Have you eaten?” You asked as you opened your apartment door for Yoongi. 

“I have.” He simply said and immediately bent down to greet your pet who was meowing by his feet. 

“He misses you.” 

“We see each other a lot, don’t be a clingy cat.” He smiled and booped the cat’s tiny nose. He picked Cookie up and lightly kissed his forehead before letting him back to roam around the house. 

The scene made your heart race and you cleared your throat. “Well, I also miss you.” You said, hoping Yoongi would catch your intention. 

“I miss you too.” He giggled and ruffled your hair instead, before walking to sit down on your sofa, completely unaware by how disappointed you were. “We’re watching Exhuma, right?” He asked. 

You hummed in agreement, hoping he wouldn’t catch the slight disappointment in the tone of your voice. “You wanna drink something?”

“Anything’s fine.” 

You muttered an “okay” before going to your fridge and grabbed two cans of Sprite and small bowl of popcorn you had made beforehand. You sit down next to him and played the movie and thought to yourself. There wasn’t really anything affectionate happening after you spent the night at his. You had never really kissed officially with you being sober, maybe only once when he kissed your forehead when you went to roller skate together, that was if that could even be counted. 

That day you were struggling to keep your balance and he caught you in his embrace just when you were about to fall frontward. He was laughing and despite being annoyed, you couldn’t help but to get swayed by the sound of his laughter. You didn’t get to process it that much when you felt his lips lightly pressed against your forehead. It happened just for a few second before he let go and simply asked if you were okay. 

Reminiscing the moment had your whole body warm. You put your feet up and hugged your knees together. Yoongi looked to your side, noticing your behavior. 

“Are you cold?” 

“Uh, I don’t know.” It was the opposite, you dummy! You secretly complained. 

“Here,” He grabbed you by your shoulder and scooted you closer to him. “Better?”

“Slightly.” You said, you didn’t realize you were pouting while saying it. 

Yoongi sighed, but a small smile was on his lips. “Only slightly?” 

“Only slightly.” You were annoyed by this point, but you felt awful for wanting to ask, and basically begging, for any skinship from him. 

“Hey, what’s wrong?” He softly asked while stroking your shoulder gently. 

“Do you not like me like that?” You said while avoiding his gaze. “Am I reading the whole situation wrong? Do you just wanna be friends?”

Yoongi chuckled and it annoyed you further more. He had the audacity to find this hilarious while you felt confused and hurt. 

“Yoongi, this isn’t funny.” 

“On what situation is what we’re doing considered as just friends?” His words immediately made you look back at him. 

“I don’t know! You never really said anything about us being a thing, anything, and…” You found it hard to admit that you basically were asking for his affection. “Nevermind, this is stupid! Let’s just get back to the movie…”

“Look at me.”

“No.” You refused, even when your heart was beating faster at his request. 

“Y/N, look at me.” He said again, this time softly grabbing your chin to make you face him. 

Not a single word came out from him after that, only him dipping down quickly to meet your lips. You were surprised but shortly melted into his kiss and found yourself returning it. He was taking his time tasting your lips. His kisses were very gentle that it almost made you beg for more. Slowly his tongue made an entrance and you welcomed it swiftly. A small low moan escaped your lips as you parted them wider for him to access you. 

And when it was done, mainly because both of you were completely breathless, Yoongi hugged you. He chuckled and this time you couldn’t help but to smile as well. 

“I like you. Maybe in love at this point.” He confessed with you still wrapped in his embrace. “I couldn’t recall when exactly the shift to love began and I’ve been thinking to myself these past few weeks… but every time I see you, I keep wondering if there was even any moment when I wasn’t.”

You blushed at this and snuggled closer, hugging him tighter.

“I feel like I’ve been buying extra portions of my food a little too often, been on Instagram more just to send you some random internet memes that you like so much, been making sure I hear that door opening sound when you come home from work, been thinking about you twenty four seven that my music starts to have your vibe, the melodies just sound like they were made for you and I couldn’t even explain how…” He chuckled at the last mention. “The composer even told me that my work has a romantic touch to it lately.”

He broke the hug so he could look at you and smiled, showing his gum a bit. “I’ve given up cause honestly, I can’t even remember what was life before all these feelings.” He shrugged playfully. “Honestly, I don’t think I even wanna remember how life feels without these emotions.”

Your eyes got teary all of the sudden. Your view was getting a bit blurry. A small laugh, mixture of both relief and happiness, escaped your very own lips before you crashed them back on his. Yoongi immediately wrapped his arms around you, pulling you back close to him. The kiss was more desperate this time, demanding, needy, but most importantly, filled with overwhelming feelings you both had for each other. 

Yoongi swiftly pulled your body and brought you on his lap without breaking the contact on your lips. A muffled squeal came out from you, but you instantly put your arms over his shoulder, deepening the kiss. 

After moments of tongue dancing between the two of you, you pulled back first because once again he had you breathless, but it seemed like he didn’t want you to rest yet, as the moment you pulled away, his lips found their way on your neck, leaving trails of the softest kisses. You bit the insides of your lower lip, trying to subdue the moans that were eager to get out. His thigh being exactly between your legs was certainly not helping you either. Hearing you trying to conceal your voice made him looked up. The sight of you flinching concerned him. 

His right hand palmed your cheek. “I’m sorry, are you uncomfortable? Is this too much?” 

You blush at the tenderness and shook your head in disagreement. “No… uh, I’m not uncomfortable…”

Yoongi smiled at you and quickly kissed your forehead. “Okay.” He simply said, before he went back to put his attention on your neck, showering it with pecks. You were still making low sounds, not trying to conceal your voice as much, just humming with your mouth closed. Your body was still tense but was progressively easing the more his lips kisses you. 

His hands started to move up underneath your top, just shyly under your bra, as if he wasn’t sure if you would grant him more than that. When an open-mouthed moan finally came out from you, Yoongi took it as his green light and began to bring the movement of his hands upwards, gently fondling your clothed breasts, which promptly made your body turned into jelly against him. You could only bury your head on his neck, letting him continue toying your chest. 

Your eyes shot open at the feel of him unclasping your bra. The touch of his palms meeting your bare breasts sent heat through you that instantly went south. You whimpered and hugged him close, burying your face further on his neck. 

“You okay?” He chuckled, not stopping but decreased the pacing of his hands. The angle now making it awkward due to your body pressing closer to him. 

“I’m just shy.” You said while still not moving from your position. 

“You don’t wanna continue? Cause I don’t mind.” He said as he moved one hand to soothe your back. 

“N-no, Yoongi I just… kinda just getting all insecure cause it’s the first time you’ll be seeing me and I’m just scared if I’d look weird to you.” 

“You’re perfect.” He told you and he meant it. 

“I haven’t done this in a while.” You said with a slight moping tone. 

“So do I.” He took your hands to pry them apart from him. He guided them to his chest where you could feel his heart beating rapidly. “Do you think I’m not nervous?”

You looked at him and couldn’t help but to smile. But when you looked down, you realized a growing bulge was present and that seemingly he was not only nervous, but excited as well. 

“You also seem excited…” You giggled. 

“Not exactly my fault now is it.” 

“It’s okay,” You looked up to the ceiling. “I may or may not be soaking through my panties now as well.” That earned a groan from him. 

“Do you want me to help?” He breathed out. His hands now holding your waist steadily, thumb grazing your underboob. “Or we could totally just makeout and it’s alright.”

“Yoongi.”

“Yeah?”

“Continue… please.”

He groaned once again before lifting both your top and bra at the same time. As the garments sat just above your chest, the view of your nipples perking out just for him had the man salivating. Slowly, he lifted you to his side and laid you down so you could rest on your back on the sofa. He bent down and proceeded to pepper your chest and breasts with soft feather-like kisses, almost as if you would break if he pressed harder. He looked up and felt his ego somewhat boosted with the scene of you biting your lips, whimpering. 

He kissed your right nipple and began to sensually nip and twirl his tongue around it, that was it for you. You fully moaned when his right hand pinched your left nipple and twisted it. You brought your hand to your mouth, trying to repress the arousing sound coming from your mouth from being too loud. 

“It’s just me.” He mumbled into your skin, one hand went to trace the line on your back. 

But that’s the problem. Yoongi himself was your main weakness. 

He continued to play with your twins, lapping the buds with his tongue, making sure he gave both of them the same treatment. Slowly his right hand traveled downwards, caressing your middle through your sweatpants. Your breath hitched. 

“Everything okay?” He asked again. 

“Y-yeah.” You managed to vocalize. 

“Can I take these off?” He said, tugging slightly at the band of your pants. 

You only nodded and he kissed your forehead. He proceeded to deliberately slide down your bottoms, leaving you with your exposed panties. 

Yoongi gulped at the sight of your damp underwear. A small patch of wet spot could be seen and he could not lie to himself and felt proud of his doings. He bent down and kissed your lips for a second before flashing a soft smile. 

“Can we continue in your room?” Before you answered, he followed. “I want you to feel comfy while I eat you out.” 

That sentence almost had you hollering.  

“Okay…” You breathed out heavily and took his hand, dragging him inside your bedroom. 

Just after he closed the door, for a split second you saw a smirk visible on his face, before he scooped you up in his arms. You gasped, and he quickly pecked your lips before gently laid you on the bed. He brought his right hand to caress your thigh softly, slowly moving upwards to your crotch area. You moaned instantly at the contact. 

His middle and ring finger moved up and down, petting your core through the cotton cloth. The pace slowly increasing, and so did the volume of your pleas. You could feel your body turning into jelly already when neither his fingers or lips had touched your naughty bits yet. 

Finally you felt one of his finger tugging and pulling your underwear. You gladly, almost too eagerly, helped him by wiggling out from it, as you watched him pulling it loose and dropped them to your floor. He pulled you slightly so you were close to the edge of your bed, and he bent down on his knees. He gaped at your glistening core, and he really was ogling for a hot minute, lost at his thoughts. 

“Stop staring at me like that.” You quickly clamped your legs together. 

“I’m sorry, I just couldn’t believe this.” He chuckled, hands on your thigh, meddling your legs back to spread out for him. “I haven’t done this in a while…”

“You’ve told me.” Your eyes searched for his. 

“No, I mean, I might be rusty… if it feels weird or if you wanna stop, we can stop anytime.”

You could see the nervousness and self-consciousness in him and it made you wanna love him even more. 

“I just wanna taste you so bad right now.” 

He hunched closer in between your legs and dived in. He licked a bit, tasting you in his tongue. At that moment he decided it was his favorite flavor. He licked a full strip your labia, before then letting his tongue danced around it, making out with your cunt. He tried to make a mental note on which part made your back arched, which side made you moan louder. Hoping the next time, if you would let him, he promised himself he would make you feel ten times better. 

A loud yelp came out from you when he slid in his middle finger. You bit your lips, feeling shaky. He carried on trusting you, slowly in and out, pacing increasing at the same time as his tongue on your clit. He then added his ring finger and you felt it effortlessly sliding into your sopping wet hole. The attack from both his tongue and fingers quickly trembled you down. You felt your stomach came into a knot and your insides clenched. 

“Y-Yoongi… I…”

You could not form a sentence and Yoongi seemed to be too immersed to respond your pleas as he kept his tempo. You were grasping onto the bedsheets, back arching towards him, and then the orgasm hit you. 

The image of Yoongi smirking with your slick trailing down his chin would now be forever embed on your brain. It would certainly be in your dreams for quite some time. 

“That was… okay, right?” 

“That was incredible.” You said through panting. 

The guy smiled and kissed the crown of your head. He pulled his t-shirt off in one go and kissed you once again. You broke off the kiss first, pulling him by the neck so he could crawl on the bed with you. Now with you under him, he then kissed your neck before sliding your cropped top over your head, making you fully bare before his eyes. 

“Beautiful.” Yoongi said in a low voice. 

The compliment flipped your stomach upside down. “How come I’m the only one completely naked…” 

Your comment earned a smile from him. “Would you help me then?” 

You blushed, but did not oblige. You didn’t waste any time and helped him out from his pants. 

“Wait.” 

He suddenly stopped mid through. His pants were already down to his knee area, and it couldn’t be helped that all your attention were now heading towards his massive bulge that wasn’t in any way shy behind his boxer brief. He stepped down the bed, finally taking off his pants fully. You could see him taking out something from his back pocket before he let the cloth fell down joining the rest of your clothings on the floor. 

“You came prepared.” You commented with a teasing smile after seeing the item he took out from his pants. 

Yoongi just looked at you with a hint of red decorated his cheeks. You found it extremely adorable that he was bashful about it. 

You took his hand and pulled him back with you on the bed. He put the condom on your bedside table, before dipping in to kiss you. It seemed like you both had found out that kissing each other was the best thing and you felt dumb for not doing it sooner. As he kissed you passionately, you were hesitant for a second, but you slowly brought your hand to feel up the swelling bump on his below. You swallowed his groans in the kiss as you continue to stroke up and down. Breaking the kiss, you mumbled something about wanting to return his favor, but Yoongi grabbed your wrist immediately, stopping you from taking off his boxer. 

“At this rate I’m going to cum in my pants so maybe next time, sweetheart.” He kissed your forehead.

When he free himself from his underwear, your jaw dropped along with it. Of course you were no saint, you had caught a glimpse of his groin area before when he wore that one gray sweatpants that you fancied. You were in fact suspecting that he was at least a little above average, but not this. He had completely proven you wrong. Quite frankly, you had never thought about how beautiful a male part could be until you saw his. 

You gulped your saliva and salivate the mesmerizing scene in front of you, watching as he ripped the condom pack with his teeth and rolled the rubber from his tip downwards. He positioned himself in between your legs, sliding his tip up and down on your entrance, which made you whimper instantly.

“Yoongi… please…” You pleaded.

“If it hurts even just the slightest bit, let me know, okay?” He said, caressing your hair. 

You only nodded and soon after you felt his tip entering you ever so gently. You moaned loudly and it seemed like the movement not only affect you, but Yoongi also, as you saw him closing his eyes shut, grunting along with you. He slid in very carefully, making sure you were adjusting well with his girth. When he reached a certain length, you yelped. 

“Did I hurt you?” He suddenly asked out of worry. 

“No… it just… it just feels very full.” You managed a smile to reassure him. 

“Okay.” He breathed out, combing his locks through his fingers. “Let me know when I can move.”

You touched his hand to catch his attention. He looked at you with a wary expression. “You can move, I’m not that fragile.” 

He muttered a stuttered “okay” before sliding himself deeper. He lunged deep and out slowly, making love to you passionately. He intertwined his fingers with yours, going on a soft tempo, as if he was trying to confess his feelings through, making sure you feel how sincere he was. You brought your hands to cup his face, then stroked his hair, before putting them over his shoulders to pull him close. Your lips met again in the middle, muffling your moans through the tongue lacing activity. His hands were cupping your breasts, fondling with them as your kisses went harsher and sloppier. 

And when he moved from your lips to kiss your chest, you bucked your hips against him, with your hands ruffling his hair as he tongue your nipple carelessly. His tempo began to distort and the knot in your stomach started to feel too much and you knew you were close. 

Not long after you came to release, he followed soon after the feeling of you clenching hard over his cock. The sound of both your heavy breaths filled the room. Yoongi once again dipped down to kiss you. Starting from your forehead, your nose, your cheek, and lastly your lips. You giggled in between every single one. He then got up to tie the ends of the condom, timidly walking towards your bathroom to where your bin was. When he was done, you were now lying to your sides, curving your legs in a fetal position.

Yoongi approached you and slowly cuddled you from behind. You automatically scooted closer to his body warmth. 

“This is oddly familiar.” He chuckled. 

You recalled the first time you spent the night at his place by accident, when you woke up with him cuddling you exactly like this. Minus the nakedness of course. 

You turned your body to face him. A huge smile was plastered on your face. “I hate you.”

“I’m sorry?!” He eyed you with an annoyed expression. 

“I’m so madly in love with you it’s insane!” You smacked his chest lightly.

“I’m sorry, I guess I was just afraid of moving too fast. I haven’t been in a relationship in a long time and I was worrying if I’d make you uncomfortable…” 

“I thought you had decided that you don’t like me or something… I was even jealous of Cookie when you kissed him!”

“I noticed.”

“You noticed?! And you chose to do nothing???” You huffed.

“You looked cute so I decided to leave you be.” He snickered. 

“You’re evil.” 

“You’re evil for wearing that extremely tight crop top today.” His eyes travelled down and up to your nude body.

“It was… on purpose.” You bit your lips. “I guess it worked? Haha?” 

He raised one of his eyebrows at you and smirked. “Give me five minutes and we can go again.”

“Oh my god??? Who are you?! Give me back my cute and shy Yoongi!” 

You squealed as he laughed and hugged you close. 

“I love you.”

“I love you too.” You said, followed by a loud smack of smooch to your cheek from him, then he flashed you his gummy smile. 

Thank you for reading! 💎

taglist: @yunaurlove @waitaminswife @yoongisababygoat @hazyjoon @callsignwidow @ai-des-blog-blog @jovanaprime @bangtanmisser7 @angelk0503

[kooqitas]

#pairing: yoongi X reader #synopsis: eating your pussy is like a amusement park for your boyfriend #wc: ~850 #notes: not proofread, english isn't my first language!

#tags: pwp(!), oral (f.) eating pussy, dom!yoongi, overstimulation, cumming in pants. | inspo by hc yoongi

★ m.list | inbox

you knew it was ruined when yoongi went between your legs.

you knew he would spend many minutes there, eating your pussy is like a amusement park for him, the best part of the sex. 

he kissed you on the lips, over your panties, jesus, you are really ruined.

"i haven't even started yet and you are wet?" he provoked you.

“shut up, yoongi!”

“i will!” 

he smiled to you, and in the next second his mouth back for your down lips, kissing soft the lace of your panties.

yoongi kissed you through your panties, rubbing his lips slowly against the fabric, making you feel every inch of his thin lips touching you. and he laughed when he saw how wet you were getting with that simple act.

“stop laughing!” you teased him. but yoongi didn't answer you.

he ran his index finger slowly across the wet panties, making your thighs tremble at the touchand then he lightly bit your panties, which made you moan, and then he pushed your panties to the side.

fuck, yoongi salivated when your pussy was exposed to him, you literally saw the drool running down his mouth, the way he looked fascinated at the mess he had made in just a few minutes over you, it was kind of embarrassing, but the the way he looked at you made up for all the embarrassment.

“i want you smearing me, leaving your smell all over my face, my tiny slut!”

he rubbed his nose on your wet hole, making you shiver from the different contact, but yoongi didn't take long to put his tongue in your pussy, doing what he did best: sucking you.

“fuck!” you moaned as soon as you felt him part your lips only to spit, making the saliva flow into your hole that was already calling for him.

yoongi was agile when his tongue entered you, sucking every inch of your pussy in a way that only he knew how to do.

yoongi lets out a quiet moan as you grab his hair, leaning down toward you gently and looking at you with a devil look in his eyes. "already? calm down, you know i’m going to spend the whole night here…”

yoongi's calmness is something that irritates you (a lot), he continues tasting you with the greatest calm in the world, while you start to lift your hips, trying for more contact.

“i need more, please” you begged.

yoongi leaves a light bite on your clit, which makes you close your legs around his head a little hard, of course it hurts, but he doesn't care, on the contrary, he loves your reaction.

for a few minutes he just sucks you, alternating between your clitoris, your wet hole, sometimes rubbing his nose, his chin, making you smear all over his face, leaving your smell there. his hips lifting more and more and your moans getting louder and louder until you finally came in his mouth.

you think it's finally going to end, but in the next second yoongi still has his tongue in you, seeming even more determined to continue his own service, putting you in a mental space you didn't even know you were capable of reaching.

it was too much, the overstimulation hitting you hard while he didn't let go of his mouth from your pussy, you knew he wouldn't stop (except with the use of your safe word), you and he knew you could take more.

"t-too much!" you moaned as you tried to release yoongi's strong hands from your thighs, but of course it was no use, he was much stronger than you and besides, he was determined to give you a second orgasm.

eating your pussy was yoongi's playground!

“no, baby, let me suck that pussy some more, hmm? i like this so much!” he said before going back to sucking your pussy voraciously.

you try to escape his arms again, not because you really want to, but your body reacts to the overstimulation on its own, and the way yoongi grabs your hips, forcing you to stay in place makes you cry with lust.

he spits twice on your pussy, before slapping it hard and going back to eating there, you close your legs again, but yoongi is a little violent in the way he opens them just to continue sucking you

you pull his hair and that just motivates him even more, if that was even possible.

you feel your body shake and the blurred vision makes you wonder if you're going to end up passing out, but in the next second you feel your body cumming again, and you scream yoongi's name so loud that you know all the neighbors will hear it.

you're a wreck, but as soon as yoongi finally lets you go and lies down next to you, you realize that his black underwear is completely wet, fuck, yoongi cummed in his pants while sucking you.

"can you sit on my face or is your leg still shaking?" your boyfriend asked once your breathing calms down.

ah, yeah, yoongi really has a tongue technology.

[livingformintyoongi]

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

First time

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Materlist.

[wildestdreamsblog]

Latibule Season 2: III

Pairing: Min Yoongi x Reader (Mafia/Detective AU)

Summary: In which he lost his latibule.

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

A/N: As promised :) Leave a comment or reblog if you enjoy!

GIF by urmingirl

Masterlist, Latibule 2.II

Taehyung looked up from his cellphone to his eldest hyung that was currently cooking their dinner. He pouted when he was not given the appropriate amount of attention he should be given. Honestly, he deserved it! After a moment when he still did not get what he wanted, he finally asked the question he had been dying to know the answer to.

“Hyung, is it always like that?”

“Hmm? Like what, Tae?” he asked while chopping diligently the vegetables the renowned doctor was preparing for a certain psychologist and his brothers that insisted they were hungry as well.

“When it ends…does it always hurt like that?”

Seokjin blinked at Taehyung’s unprompted question. He paused before he finally brought his eyes to the actor. He knew that the younger man had always been eccentric. His clinical condition definitely explained his behavior, but not this. He was never curious about the emotions he couldn’t feel, nor did he ever show any interest on understanding emotions. As the years passed by, Kim Taehyung got better at masking and pretending by learning the root causes of the emotions he could see. The brothers had always thought that this was precisely why he chose to be an actor. Everytime they watched him cried, laughed, or acted furious for his movies and dramas, they thought he was a different person.

Jin thought it was just understandable why he dropped the knife he was holding.

“What brought this on?”

“He-“ he lifted his mobile phone to show Jin the picture Jimin snapped of their Yoongi hyung looking like he had lost all his will to live. Taehyung found it so ridiculous that Jimin even made a collage of him and a cat that depicted their hyung. “-looks like breathing is a chore and is only fighting to live so he can end his enemies.”

Jin would have laughed had this happened before he met his sunshine. But now, the mere thought of her leaving set him on edge, and he knew he would be similar to Yoongi if not worse. Slowly, he picked up his knife as he carefully chose his words. He was always like this with Taehyung ever since he knew that something was not quite right in his mind, well…more than any of them, to be honest. The younger man took things at face value, and all the brothers knew to talk in a straightforward manner so there wouldn’t be any confusion on Taehyung’s part.

He kidded you not, once when they were still teenagers, they asked him to go ahead and get them a table in a restaurant. He left without any qualms only to return not an hour later carrying a big ass table from a restaurant. That was a horrifying memory, Jin thought, and that was when they all decided to change the way they talked. It was Namjoon that took it too far and enrolled the man in a body language class to better cope with society. However, it was Jungkook that forced him to take psychology classes with him for fun.

“I think it’s different,” Jin started, busying himself once again with cooking. “Yoongi never has love like that, I guess. It’s understandable that he acts like a sad lonely cat.”

Seokjin could still clearly remember how Yoongi looked at you. It was like you were all he ever wanted and more, like you were his reprieve from the darkness in his life. You were, as he called you, an angel to him. And then he lost you.

“Why?”

“Well…she’s his personal slice of heaven,” he answered, his voice contemplative and understanding of what Yoongi was going through. Jin paused in his chopping, a thoughtful expression crossing his features as he carefully considered his words. “And he’s been living in hell the very moment he was born. What do you think would happen if he was given a taste of heaven and then lost it?”

“Just like Hoseok hyung,” Taehyung nodded, slightly understanding the downfall of these strong men.

“Seriously, you are all worse than the ahjummas who love to talk about other people’s lives. Be better than that, guys,” Kim Namjoon observed with his deadpanned voice as soon as he walked in the kitchen. He took in the scene of the two men conversing and the other man quietly eating the snack Jin prepared him.

Jin scoffed as he rolled his eyes at Namjoon. “As if you wouldn’t react like that when your secretary finally resigns.”

To which, Namjoon only smirked. “Who says she can leave?”

“How will you stop her and her son if the father finally shows up?”

Namjoon, with his hand in his pocket, calmly uttered words that no normal people would believe to have any other meaning. “Well, as you said, the dead don’t exactly come back to life, do they?”

 Jin chuckled at Namjoon. Of course, he did something about that man. It was apparent, he thought. He could still vividly remember the look in Namjoon’s eyes when he told him that his secretary was pregnant and that the asshole of a father even put his hands on her. Suffice to say, it was the most unhinged Namjoon ever was.

“I think Namjoon will be the worst among us if he ever loses the love of his life,” Jin noted with lightness in his voice.

“Nah,” Jungkook finally lifted his head from his bowl. “I sincerely think it’ll be Taehyung.”

The conversation never left Jeon Jungkook’s mind. Anyway, he didn’t need anyone to tell him to do this. He did this out of the bond he shared with his brothers. Had this happened to any among them, he would have done the same.

He thought that it was cruel to let them experience the same hell he had been living every single day.

And so, he worked tirelessly and utilized every available technology and connection he had just to look for Yoongi’s angel. When he said she was alive, when he said he felt in his heart that you could have not gone where he couldn’t follow, then he’d believed him. He wouldn’t lose anything by looking for you, Jungkook rationalized. But he didn’t want to unnecessarily get his brother’s hopes up until he had evidence that you were indeed alive.

One morning, it finally happened. There you were.

Jungkook’s eyes could not have gone any bigger as he watched the CCTV of a far province in his office.

That was you, he was sure.

Without a moment's hesitation, he reached for his phone and dialed the person he knew he could trust. "Hyung, can you come to my office?" he requested urgently, the excitement and disbelief evident in his voice.

“That’s her,” Kim Namjoon validated after a moment. He was standing beside Jungkook’s seated form as he leaned in the monitor. He was ever the image of calmness with his hand in his pocket, his suit immaculate and not a crease in sight.

Seokjin raised his brows as he sat in a relaxed manner on the couch. Jungkook didn’t even call him, yet he was here because he was, per his words, bored and that a certain sunshine was not where she should be. “So the dead can indeed come back to life,” he noted with a tone the two men couldn’t understand. “Pray tell, Namjoon-ah. Should we tell Yoongi?”

Jungkook blinked at the rising tension between the two men. Whereas Jin merely looked curious, Namjoon looked like he was looking at the end of the sword with the way his jaw was clenched. He stood up straight and took a second to answer Seokjin.

“Of course, hyung. This is a great news, after all.”

“Hmm,” Seokjin smirked, his legs crossed as though nothing could have fazed him. It was moment like this when Jungkook could see the mafia prince in his usually playful hyung. Everybody knew not to cross this man despite him appearing goofy and motherlike to them.

Jungkook thought that it would only take one momentous catastrophe for him to return to his dark persona. He didn’t want to see that, though.

“He’s suffered enough, right?” Jin asked the room with a light tone, yet his eyes pierced through Namjoon’s. “Right, Namjoon-ah?”

Seven Mississippis passed before he answered. Jungkook knew because he counted, and he hated the tension he didn’t know why was present.

“Jungkook, tell Yoongi hyung,” Namjoon ordered.

—-

Min Yoongi’s brows were pulled together as he walked in a bustling street of a faraway province. He had to drive almost four hours just because their maknae told him to be here at this exact hour, claiming that he desperately needed him to be there. However, Jungkook was not answering his phone despite numerous calls from him.

Where was even that little shit, Yoongi asked himself as he surveyed the whole place.  

Despite barely getting any sleep, he found himself in a situation where he might have to scold his youngest brother for the first time. He should have been in Seoul right now, but he couldn’t exactly say no to him. He had shit ton of things to do and yet he was indulging the youngest brother.

Maybe this was exactly why he was spoiled? Ah, but anyway, he was a good kid.

So where was he?!

He walked further into the thick of the plaza, his phone plastered in his ear as he listened to the annoying and incessant ringback tone of Jungkook. Seriously, at this day and age? His eyes roamed the area of happy locals, at which he rolled his eyes.

He was on the verge of deciding whether he should just go ahead and kill Jungkook when he finally answered.

“Where the fuck are you?” he growled over the other line, his patience running thin when the man just answered innocently.

“At Seoul, hyung-“

“Then why am I here?! I swear to heavens, if you made me drive here just to buy you a weird snack then I’ll really kill you!”

“Seokjin hyung will be mad!”

Right. The eldest was protective of the youngest. What a nuisance, he thought. “Then I’ll do it in secret.”

Jungkook chuckled nervously. He couldn’t place whether he was joking or not. His money was that if his hyung could get away with it, he’d be floating in the river at this very moment. “I asked you to go there because I have a surprise for you, hyung.”

“I don’t particularly enjoy surprises-” he began, but was swiftly interrupted.

“I know, I know. But this one, I’m sure you’ll like. This is the most beautiful, most precious, most amazing surprise ever. You’ll stop sulking and looking like a sad cat and Jimin hyung will finally stop taking badly captured and cropped photos of you and make it into a collage. Taehyung hyung will stop observing your miserable demeanor for his next movie. You’ll finally stop living like it’s such a chore and-“

His back was bumped by a force. Turning around, he prepared to glare at the perpetrator only to stop because there it was.

There was you.

It was as if the universe finally said that he had enough and stopped punishing him because he saw you when he was not even looking for you. Your mouth hanged agape, your hand going to your forehead as you murmured apologies to him.

He was stunted. No, he was bewildered.

Was this real? Or was this one of his cruel dreams again, a figment of his mind playing tricks on him?

But no.

He had been living in hell, yet moment he heard your voice, all the sufferings disappeared. This was really you. You were truly alive. He was frozen as his wildest dream was brought into life. His whole body went into a state of shock, something that he never thought could ever happen.

It didn’t really matter the years he spent without you because one touch, one word- these were all it took for him to forget the bitterness your separation brought him.

With a trembling voice, Yoongi dared to call for you. “Ange-”

But before he could say another word, you interrupted, your voice light and apologetic.

“I’m really sorry, mister. I didn’t see you,” you chuckled, slightly lifting your walking stick to explain the small accident. You bowed down at the man before going your way.

And he stood there, watching as the love of his life walked away from him, unseeing. He thought he could no longer hurt. He thought that nothing could have fazed him any longer. But he was wrong. Watching you walked, unseeing as you traversed the plaza with only your walking stick pained him.

How did this happen to you?

Was it because of the incident?

Was that why you couldn’t return to him? Because you weren’t able to?

Or did he miss all the glaring signs?

Slowly, he lifted the old phone you gifted him years ago to his ear. “You didn’t stop looking for her?”

Jungkook was quiet for a moment. “Well…I would never wish this hell on anyone, much less my brother,” he stated, his voice carrying a certain tone of sadness they often heard from him. “Go get her, hyung.”

The bustling city streets faded into a blur around you as you walked, your steps slow and deliberate despite the cacophony of noise that surrounded you. Your sight may have been almost gone, but your other senses seemed to have sharpened in response, each sound and scent painting a vivid picture in his mind.

You remembered that when you were younger, you read a passage from a book entitled, ‘The Song of Achilles’. You thought it was a well-written book, a love that transcended even death. There was a line your college friends always thought to be a masterpiece. But you never understood it. The line so many people loved never really touched you.

Until it did.

Until you understood each word written in that book.

“I could recognize him by touch alone, by smell; I would know him blind, by the way his breaths came and his feet struck the earth. I would know him in death, at the end of the world.”

Because right now, the words made sense. You could recognize him despite your deteriorating eyesight. You knew him. He was here. And he was following you…to what exactly? Was he here to end you? Was he here to make sure that you wouldn’t tell the world of his secret identity?

Regardless of the reason, you tried to remain calm as Hoseok always ordered you to. You had no choice but to lead him back home, otherwise you were sure that he would be suspicious. The man that you used to love was perceptive, and any suspicious movements could alert him. From the moment you opened the front door to the time you closed it, you knew you only had a couple of seconds.

You fished the phone Hoseok gave you, one with tactile buttons and controls that made it easier for you to use it. You knew you couldn’t use the speech-to-text feature, otherwise he’d hear. And so, with a tense movement, you sent a message to him.

He’s here. Don’t come home. Leave with my son.

Part IV

[kingofbodyrolls]

Friendcation (m) | myg | series masterlist

Going camping with your best friends seemed like a brilliant idea when you initially made the plans. But when you harbor secret feelings for one of them, what will become of you being close confined for three months? Trouble, that’s what.

→ Pairing: Yoongi x reader (female, “Y/N”) → Other characters: Jimin, Jungkook, Taehyung, Namjoon, Hoseok and Seokjin. → Trope: friends to best friends with benefits to lovers (they be messy and confused, lol) → AUs: non idol!au, camping!au, roadtrip!au, mechanic!au (Yoongi is a mechanic) → Genre: humor, (slight) angst, smut and fluff → Rating: mature/explicit/R18 (This is mature/explicit content, so minors, please do not interact.) → Word count: 131.6K (things got out of hand, lol and it's mainly smut 💀) → Disclaimer: I do not own BTS or know them personally and this work of fiction is purely fictional and for entertainment purposes only. The actions and personalities described in the story do not reflect those of BTS— it’s just fiction. Also, if you would kindly read the tags/warnings before reading, that would be lovely: and if you don’t like whatever is described in the tags, just hit return and find something else to read. Thank you 🌸 → Warnings/tags: will be tagged for each individual chapter. But it does contain smut, almost in every chapter (not the first though). → Taglist: Closed. → Status: Completed! (I'm still doing some extras for it now and then)

🍃 Chapter 1 Summary: As exhaustion and stress threaten to consume you and your friends at work, Yoongi comes to the rescue with an enticing proposal: a collective vacation—a friendcation. Amid the backdrop of breathtaking landscapes and shared adventures, your feelings for him only deepens more. Yet, his lingering gaze holds secrets you can't ignore, leaving you to wonder if it conceals something deeper—an unspoken connection that may forever alter your friendship. Word count: 11,9K | Read → chapter one 🍃Chapter 2 Summary: When you get a flat tire, you think it’s bad luck, but when you fall flat on your ass and Yoongi offers to massage the pain away, has your luck finally turned? 😜 Word count: 12.7K | Read → chapter two 🍃Chapter 3 Summary: When you and Yoongi visit his family in Daegu, and he introduces you as his friend, it rubs you all kind of wrong. But what are you even to each other, other than best friends with benefits? Word count: 11.9K | Read → chapter three 🍃Chapter 4 Summary: It’s the last weeks of the vacation being just you and Yoongi, and you’re going to savor every last bit of it. You do some hiking, relaxing and discover new sides to yourself that you didn’t know existed. Word count: 17.7K | Read → chapter four 🍃Chapter 5 Summary: Namjoon, Hoseok and Seokjin have finally joined you on your trip and it’s going great; you have a tremendous amount of fun (some at your expense), laughter and talks about life. Namjoon suddenly asks you where you think this thing with Yoongi is heading, and to be honest you don’t really know yourself – you just know that you love him. Word count: 23K | Read → chapter five 🍃Chapter 6 Summary: Your vacation is coming to an end but your thoughts are spiraling and filled with anxiety as a tiny mishap makes you question your future with Yoongi. Word count: 11.3K | Read → chapter six 🍃Chapter 7 [finale] Summary: Melancholy shrouds you and Yoongi in your last days of vacation – time to get back home to the daily grind. But when you can visit Yoongi in his garage, is it really so bad? Word count: 11.3K | Read → chapter seven

🍃Extras🍃

🍃Wedding special Summary: Yoongi has done everything in his power to make your wedding truly special, what he couldn’t plan for was the rain. But fret not, a bit of rain will not make your day less special when it’s surrounded by friends and family. And your wedding night? Well, being pushed down into the sheets by Yoongi is easily one of your favorite things. Word count: 12.2k | Read → the wedding special

🍃Honeymoon special Summary: You and Yoongi travel to Scandinavia for your honeymoon, well more like babymoon. You camp, fish, hike and enjoy nature as you always do, and you even go surfing! Word count: 8.7k | Read → the honeymoon special

🍃Pregnancy special Summary: You and Yoongi try to get pregnant, but it doesn’t go as planned, as the road isn’t easy. But he’s your rock, and he’ll stand with you through thick and thin 💜 Word count: 7.5k | Read → the pregnancy special

🍃Winter special Summary: You’re in labor and live outside of the city, and it just happens to be Christmas time, there’s a lot of snow. Will you and Yoongi be able to make it to the hospital before your baby arrives? OR– The one where Yoongi fucks you into labor and crashes the car. Word count: 10.3k | Read → the winter special

🍃Baby special Summary: Yoongi spends time with your daughter. Word count: 3.5k | Read → the baby special

→ Author’s note: Thank you so much for reading! 🌸 I appreciate every like, comment and reblog, and please don’t be afraid to let me know what you think;  your kind words makes me extremely happy 💜