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baby-yongbok · 10 months ago

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No way this got to 1k! Thank you 🫰��🫰🏾🫰🏾

Call me, baby

Hwang Hyunjin x Fem!Reader

♡ Genre - Smut, slow(ish) and then boom porn - Strangers to lovers (non-idol)

♡ Word Count: 7.6k

♡ Summary: Welcome to Rockstar tattoo and piercing, where giving a beautiful stranger and eyebrow piercing can lead to the best fuck of your life.

♡ A/N: I started this as soon as photo's of Hyunjin with that damned eyebrow piercing came out. I am EXHAUSTED the horny took over, I'm ruined and now maybe you are too. 😭 I wanted to have this be a bit of a slow burn type of thing just so there could be some build up and longing ya know? I don't usually draw things out this long but I wanted to give it a shot. 💕Please enjoy it, I worked hard and I'd love to hear feedback. I also only lightly edited it for right now, I'll look over it again later! Gosh I'm exhausted. + reader is depicted as chubby/plus size and is a POC ♡

♡ Warnings: Pain slut Hyunjin, Descriptive piercing process, Biting, Hair pulling, Appearances by Lee Know, unprotected sex (safe sex is good. be safe ya'll) Oral (f&m receiving), nipple play (kinda? & not for too long + reader has nipple piercings)

✧ Masterlist ✧

“Hey, man. Welcome to Rockstar tattoo and piercing whatcha lookin for tonight?” Minho, your ex and fellow co-owner of the shop asks as that familiar jingle rings through the empty shop. You’re too busy cleaning up your space to listen in on what the new customer wants. You’re sure that it’s something simple since it’s close to midnight and all that gets done this late are simple piercings and tattoos that people will regret in the morning.

“Baby, you got a customer up front.” Minho calls as he makes his way over to his station. The name prompts a fake gag and an award winning eye roll as you move across your station

“Do not call me that, ew.” The echo of Minho’s chuckle makes him sound closer than he is as he rounds the corner of the wall dividing your spaces. You’re a two person crew so you get to spend every second that you’re in this shop with your ex which wouldn’t be so bad if he and his new girlfriend weren’t all over each other every chance that they got. You love the girl and they’re a much better match than the two of you ever were but it’s been so long since you’ve been with someone that you feel like they’re just teasing you at this point.

“You used to love that.” With folded arms he leans against your side of the wall and you turn to him with a hand on your hip while the other one is full of supplies.

“And I used to love you.” He hisses, holding a hand over his heart with faux pain in his eyes.

“Ouch.” You throw an empty ink cap at him and you both laugh. “Well since you don’t love me I’ll be right back.” He walks over to the front desk, grabbing his jacket from the back of the chair and heading out to the front of the shop.

“Where the hell are you going?” You whine, running up behind him. He turns to face you with that mischievous glint in his eyes. Does he really need to go get his dick wet right now?

“Seriously, Min!” He laughs at your incredulous scoff as he throws on his jacket. “If I’m not back in an hour, close up for me, yeah?” With a quick wink and a smirk he rushes out of the door before you even have a chance to protest. You know that he’ll be back, he always comes back but you still want to give him a piece of your mind. You flip him off as you watch him pass the large front window and he kisses back at you. You love that you two had a clean break but god does he get on your nerves.

“Asshole.” You mumble under your breath as you look down at the form on the counter. “Hyunjin?”

You hear shuffling in the very far corner of the waiting area as you flip through his paperwork.

“That’s me.” You smile down at the clipboard once you hear his voice, at least he’s not some rude wasted guy. “You can come with me.”

When you look up your jaw nearly hits the counter, is beautiful even the right word to describe this man? You don’t usually have a type but if you had to pick one it would be the man standing right in front of you. “ Uh, hey my name’s Y/n, I’ll be piercing you tonight and it uh-”

Gosh, his eye contact is intense, how does he do that? “It says here that you wanna get a horizontal eyebrow piercing?”

“Right.” He shakes his head as he rocks back and forth on his heels and you nod.

“Awesome, it should be pretty quick, let’s do this.” You unlock the swing door and allow him back into your station. You decide to close the privacy curtain that separates your space from the rest of the shop since the chances of anyone else coming in is close to zero, you’re not as accessible as the shops close to town so this is the quiet hour for you.

Hyunjin watches as you start collecting the supplies that you’ll need. You move carefully, making sure that everything is just how you like it. “Have you been doing this for a long time?” You hadn’t even noticed the way that he seems to be nearly looking over your shoulder this entire time.

“Long enough.” He smiles at your shy laugh as you pick a marker from your cup. “We’ve owned this place for about three years.”

“You and your boyfriend?” You scowl at his words, pulling a chuckle from his chest. “I guess he’s not your boyfriend.”

“He’s my ex, we already bought this place when we broke up so I couldn’t escape him.” A dramatic sigh follows your statement as you motion for him to sit down on the chair in front of you. “We're friends now, best friends, but I am a single girl.”

Hyunjin cocks his brow, causing you to accidently draw a line across his eyelid. “Sorry about that.” He chuckles and you smile at the soft sound.

“It’s alright.” You clean him up and the feeling of his gaze burning into you makes you smirk. You’re more than used to clients staring at you, there are some that will try to make an ungraceful pass at you while they’re at it but for some reason having Hyunjin stare at you so intensely is welcomed? Maybe because he’s cute. That definitely helps. “Ready?”

“Ready.” You mark him perfectly this time and point him towards the mirror to check if he likes the placement. “Perfect.”

“Awesome let’s stick ya then.” You motion him towards your reclined chair and he gracefully fills the spot with his tall frame. “You’re not scared of needles are you?”

“Not at all.” The smirk on his face as he stares up at the ceiling catches you off guard. You’ve never seen anyone smile at the thought of getting stabbed before. You wipe your hands and snap on your gloves before moving in front of your rolling tray where all of your supplies are set up. “Did it hurt when you got yours?”

“Nope, but that’s probably because I did it myself.” You grab your scissor clamp and move next to Hyunjin. “Okay, so, the steps are to clamp the site, pierce it, feed the jewelry through and then you’re out of here.”

“Sounds easy enough, go ahead.” You nod leaning over him gently. This is the first time in all of your years as a piercing artist that you’ve felt self conscious about the deep V cut of your shirt. You usually couldn’t care less but right now you’re almost hyper aware of the way that you’re presenting yourself to the man in front of you. You’re also hyper aware of the way that he’s staring right at the lacey red of your bra that’s peeking out, or is it the studs of your nipple piercing pressing against your tight cotton shirt that’s caught his attention? Either way, the way that he’s staring is causing something that you haven’t felt in awhile to stir deep in your stomach.

“Gonna clamp you now, it shouldn’t hurt but just take a deep breath anyway.” You whisper as you turn his head a bit to get a better look at the piercing site. Now he’s really got a good view. He’s perfectly still as you clamp him and you praise him for every little thing that he does right, he seems to take a liking to that since every time something sweet comes out of your mouth he hums with contentment.

“Ready for the stick?”

“Go ahead.” He licks his lips while his gaze is still trained on your chest and you can’t help but to push your thighs together. He seemed to have noticed since a ghost of a smile adorned his lips right after.

“Breath in.” He follows your instruction and you position the needle right at the mark only pushing a bit to prepare him. “And out.” He was an easy stick, it went in perfectly. It was smooth and quick and he definitely hissed a moan when you did it. You stay in place, leaning over him with the plastic needle still in.

“Everything good?” The sound of his moan rang through your ears as you avoided eye contact with him. He hums a confirmation, his eyes are shut now and his bottom lip is between his teeth. Good god. Did he not notice or does he just not care? Does he have a thing for pain? “I’m going to uh- feed the jewelry through.”

You move his head a bit, trying to find the best position for the light to hit him. Why is the lighting so shitty all of the sudden? “Everything alright?” There’s a slight chuckle in his voice and you sigh.

“Yeah I just can’t get a good light right now. It’s like my damn shadow moved in the way.” You move a bit back and forth but nothing is comfortable enough. “Can I like… could you just move your hip over a bit?” He does as you ask immediately and you swiftly prop your knee up on the chair.

“Thanks, that's so much better.” You grab the jewelry, and wedge it into the plastic needle for the feed through. “You’ll feel a bit of pressure, it might sting okay?”

“Mmhmm.” Just as you’re about to move the needle you feel the soft brush of his fingers on your inner thigh. That had to be an accident right? Do you want it to be an accident? Not really.

“One, two, go.” You slowly feed the jewelry through and this time a soft grunt leaves his lips but that’s not all. You freeze when you feel it, glancing down at Hyunjin while his eyes are still closed and his fingers grip the flesh of your inner thigh. “Good?”

“Great.” It’s a miracle that you didn’t moan at the feeling of him grabbing you but you decide to thank whatever higher power saved you instead of thinking about what if’s. One thing’s clear though; he definitely has a thing for pain.

“Let me just -” You reach over to your rolling tray and his grip on your thigh loosens but he doesn’t let go. “- Just gotta put the ball on the end.” You secure his jewelry, screwing on the end and wiping it down with bactine.

“Done.” He sighs but he doesn’t move. You look down at him, expecting him to say something, but he stays silent. You take a deep breath, trying to ignore the electricity that having his hand inches away from your heat is causing. “Wanna look at it?”

He nods, finally moving his hand, now maybe you can breathe normally. You both move at the same time but he sits up much slower than expected. “Feeling good?” Hyunjin hums as he adjusts his pants and makes his way over to the mirror, leaning in to get a good look at the new accessory.

“So good.” Yup, he has a pain kink. It’s confirmed.

Once you’ve cleaned up all the immediate things and rid yourself of your gloves you move over towards him slowly. Usually you’d make small talk but you don’t feel too capable of doing that with the way that your core is pulsing with need at the moment.

You watch as he studies the piercing. You should be looking at it too but you can’t focus on anything but the sharp beauty of his features and the way that his wine red hair falls against his temples and compliments the blush running up his neck. As much as you try to stop yourself you can’t help but indulge in taking him in further. You can’t help but to let your gaze run down the length of his strong arm and admire the way that his black sweats are hanging from his hips. Your eyes linger on the hem of his pants for a second too long and that’s when you notice it. Right below the perfect bow of his drawstrings is a delicious bulge that you desperately want to show attention to. Your tongue darts out, licking at the corner of your mouth a bit as you eye him. Snap out of it, come on.

“Think I should get a tattoo there?” Your eyes snap to his reflection but he’s already looking at you. Fuck, did he catch you staring? Of course he did, it was so obvious. “I’ve been thinking about it.”

His smile makes you feel like you could explode at any second but you decide to try a bit harder to contain yourself. “I think that could be hot.” Fuck, no no no, why did you say that.

“Hot? You think so?” He cocks his eyebrow just like he did earlier but this time the gold stud adorning his thick brow makes a shiver run up your spine and sends a spark to your clit. He was already hot without the piercing but now it’s just unfair.

“Uh yeah, I do.” Before you can try to turn around and make your escape from further embarrassing yourself he turns to you.

“Would you do it?” His eyes are focused on yours and for some reason you can’t find it in you to look away.

“Do…your hip tattoo?” He nods and you shift your weight as you imagine the process. Could you even stand to be that close to his dick? You’re standing in front of him right now and you feel like you could combust from the eye contact. Surely you’ll melt if you end up having to stare at his hard dick for hours while he gets off on the pain of your needle for a second time.

“I would.” Your answer leaves your lips in a half whisper before you can even think about it but the smile that pulls at his lips makes you forget your prior argument. “Just let me know when.”

“Do you have a card?”

“Up front, I’ll give it to you with your care instructions.” You find yourself glancing down one more time before attempting to blink away all of your horny thoughts. As much as you want to fall to your knees and relieve him of his pain induced hard on you have to keep it professional, even if you were just caught staring at his dick print. “You paid when you came in, right?”

Quickly, you make your way around him to open your curtain and lead him to the counter. “Yeah I did.” You can feel him close behind you as you unlock the swing door to let him out.

“But you did such a great job.” The slam of the small door behind him makes you jump a bit but his following question is what really did it. “Do you take tips? Or could I give you more than that?”

You choke a bit on your inhale but at the same time there couldn’t possibly be a hint of oxygen left in your body with the way that he’s looking at you with his arms crossed and leaning on the counter. Your brain isn’t working anymore, it’s completely smooth as you stare back at Hyunjin’s cool smile. Hell, if he’s offering you’re going to take it.

Just as you’re about to calculate your own suggestive reply that familiar jingle echoes off the walls and your gaze lands on none-other than your godforsaken ex. He eyes you as you stand behind the counter with red cheeks and your palms spread and pressing into the desk.

“All good?” He looks between you and Hyunjin with raised brows. You force a smile as you frantically scan the desk for the care instruction packet.

“Yup, all good.” The sigh that follows your sentence is less than convincing but Minho lets it slide in the name of trusting you. You turn your attention back to Hyunjin who’s eyes were already on you. “So here are the care instructions. Don’t change it for about two months and uh, just make sure to keep it clean and um yeah everything that you need to know is in here.”

He takes the packet, brushing his fingers against yours in the process. Hopefully the way that you shivered wasn’t too obvious. Are you really that down bad? Usually you’re witty and flirty, you tend to have a pretty smart mouth with customers but as soon as you saw Hyunjin all of that went right out the window.

“Your card.” He nods towards the display on the desk and you quickly grab one for him.

“It has the shop number and my instagram on there. If you want to contact me directly, Instagram is the best way to do it but I’m here almost everyday. If I’m not coming in, I'll post it on my story.” He flips the card between his fingers allowing you to get a good look at what you wish were still grabbing at the tender flesh of your thighs. Your focus breaks when he rubs the card between his fingers and a second one falls to the counter. “Oh, must’ve given you two by accident.”

“So I’ll message you.” Standing straight he slips the card into his pocket. “If I have any questions.” He takes a step back, taking you in one more time.

“Yeah, I’ll answer as fast as I can.”

“Baby, did you use the last of the caps?” Minho calls from the storage room and the scoff that follows makes Hyunjin laugh.

“Stop calling me that for goodness sake.” With the flash of a quick smile and mumbled goodnight you leave Hyunjin at the front and head over to your annoying cock blocking ex. Once you get to him you see him leaning against the storage room door with his eyes on his phone screen. “I thought you were looking for caps.”

“Nah, figured that you needed me to save you. That guy should’ve been gone already.” Did he seriously just ruin any chance that you had at getting laid tonight? And by a man as hot as Hyunjin at that.

“We were talking.”

“You don’t do small talk.” Minho’s pinched brows earns him an eye roll as you head over to your station. “So he wasn’t bothering you?”

“Far from it.” The way that you’re aggressively cleaning your tray gives Minho all the hints he needs but it would be out of character for him to just drop the topic.

"Then what was he doing?" Minho asks in his teasing tone that you’ve grown to be more than familiar with. You pause and sigh as your mind lingers on the feel of Hyunjin’s fingers gripping you and the sounds he made with each hint of pain.

"He was trying to make me interested."

“Was it working?” The silence that followed his question spoke louder than any words could. “His number is on the form ya know.”

“Just lock up, Minho. I’m not breaking any privacy laws just so I can get fucked.” He throws his hands up in surrender, backing away and heading to the front. You close your eyes, taking a deep breath to try and contain the many emotions running through you. You should’ve been on your game tonight but Hyunjin just threw you off. You haven’t been that attracted to anyone in so long that all of your skills went right out the window as soon as he looked at you. Maybe he’ll message you? Ask you a question or two and then ask you out. What if he doesn’t? What if Minho scared him off and you never hear from him again?

“Baby.”

“Lee Minho, stop calling me -” You pause when you turn to him, looking down at the card he’s offering you between his fingers. “What?” He extends his arm to you further, earning his third eye roll of the day as you snatch the cardstock away from him.

“It’s my card.” You shrug at him.

“Turn it over.” Your pulse picks up a bit once you notice the red ink on the back of the card. Hyunjin’s name and number is written in pretty symbols right across the middle with a small note. ‘Call me, baby.’

“I’ll stop calling you that now.”

Sleep didn't come easy last night but you sure did at the thought of Hyunjin. It doesn't help that you texted him immediately and he didn't waste a second before replying to you. Your night was spent getting to know him a bit as your mind danced on the idea of him fucking you into your mattress. The amount of time that you pretended that your fingers were his slender ones while you answered one of his questions is actually award winning. The taping of your cum covered fingers against your screen went on until you tired yourself out and fell asleep while waiting for his next text.

“Going out.” Minho looked up from the sketch book in front of him just in time to watch as you grabbed your jacket from the chair next to his.

“Did ‘baby’ call?” For the first time in a while you find yourself smiling and unbothered by his teasing. “She's smiling, did you finally catch a dick.”

“I'll let you know in a couple of hours.” The look on Minho’s face isn't one that you see often but it's your absolute favorite. “I'll be back, baby.”

You barely got to knock twice before the door to Hyunjin’s apartment swung open. He looks just as good if not better than he did last night and the fact that you’ve gotten to know him a bit better over text for the past couple of hours makes you feel like a college student sneaking into someone's dorm after curfew. It’s safe to say that you have a big fat crush now.

“Hey, nice piercing.” He pulls you into a quick hug before ushering you further into his place. Your eyes wander across his walls, taking in every detail. He really is the artsy type.

“Thanks, some girl did it for me last night.” He watches you take in his space with hungry eyes, no matter how much he tells himself that he just met you and that he wants to take it slow he can’t seem to pace himself. The amount of times that he came into his fist last night just thinking of how pretty your nipple piercings must be and how your thighs would wrap perfectly around him is insane. Unfortunately, the orgasms didn’t put out the fire that burned for you deep in his stomach, it only made the flame bigger.

“Oh yeah?” You face him as you peel your jacket off slowly, letting it slide off of your shoulders and down your arms so gracefully that he couldn’t possibly ignore it. “Was she hot?”

His eyes fix on the fabric stretching tight against your chest, how dare you call that a shirt. It’s keeping little to nothing to the imagination but he can’t say that he’s mad at it. “So fucking hot, I couldn’t stop staring at her.”

Your jacket finds a home on the arm of his couch while you check out the paintings on his living room wall. The stretched canvas and sheets of beautifully stained paper are littered all over the ivory wall, serving as the only real means of decoration in this area of the room. “Do you think that she noticed?”

The energy around you turns electric as he steps up behind you, just close enough not to touch you. “I hope that she did.”

“Why?” Your breathing is slow and shallow as your eyes run across the colors of the paintings on the wall. You’re not really taking in the beauty of the art anymore, you’re more concerned with the masterpiece standing behind you and what he’ll say next.

“So that she doesn’t feel surprised when I say -” He leans into you, fiddling with one of the paintings and pressing himself lightly into your back. A blistering heat washes over you at the feel of him against you. It’s so much more than you imagined it to be. “- That I think that she’s beautiful.”

He reaches for another painting, stepping forward just a bit to be closer to you. “And that as much as I want to take it slow and get to know her -” He slowly retracts his hand, stepping back and breaking all contact. You sigh, swallowing hard as you hang on each of his words. “I just can’t go another second without knowing what she feels like.”

You turn your head to the side, catching a glimpse of his burning gaze as he stares down at you. His dark eyes are undressing you before he even gets the chance to touch you. Something like you did to him yesterday. “I think that she’d feel the same way.” It’s a bit of a challenge but you manage to hold eye contact with him as you turn your body to face him.

“You think she’d let me touch her?” Eyes, lips, chest and repeat. That’s the pattern that his gaze follows while he waits for your answer.

“I think she wants you to, so so badly.” His eyes meet yours and his hands are on you in an instant, grabbing at the plush of your waist and pushing you against the wall of art work behind you.

“Thank god.” He whispers against your lips before attaching them in desperate hunger. The sound of paper and canvas falling to the floor is merely background noise in the heat of the moment.

He’s soft and sweet like honey, his touch is like satin against your skin and your head is fuzzy. Holy fuck. He swallows the moan that escapes you as you welcome his tongue into your mouth, offering his own sinful sounds as a counter. His hands are grabbing at the exposed skin of your stomach while he pushes your shirt up to expose more of you. Your hands fist the fabric of his shirt, you want him closer. You need him closer. He pulls away abruptly, staring down at you panting and flushed. He takes a step back and you take a step forward.

“Think she’ll let me fuck her?” He continues to step back from you and you match each move that he makes. Your hands find the bottom hem of your shirt and you pull the fabric over your head, revealing your flimsy lace bra to him. A hiss falls from his lips as he falls back into his couch. Sitting with his legs spread and ready for you, the perfect seat.

“You better fuck her.” Once you climb onto his lap his lips are back on yours in an instant. The kiss is hungry, desirous, passionate. It’s everything that you knew it would be and more. His palms rest on your breasts, kneading the flesh and flicking at the heart studs of your nipple piercings. A shiver runs over you at the feeling and Hyunjin smiles against you at the reaction.

“Sensitive?” He mumbles, following with a kiss and you nod with a deep moan. “Fuck.” He pushes your breast together, jiggling them in his palms while he watches with his bottom lip between his teeth.

“I wanted to see these so badly last night.” You knew he was staring. “Wanted to run my tongue over these pretty little studs.”

“What’s stopping you now?” You grind your hips into him, milking a choked moan from his throat. He’s so hard underneath you, his sweat pants are doing little to restrain his pulsing cock from pressing into your needy core but even that bit of pressure is not enough to satiate your hunger. His fingers peel down the lace of your bra and you watch as his tongue dips out of his mouth and swirls the silver jewelry. “Hyunjin.”

He hums, content with the way that his name sounds falling from your pretty lips, it’s then that you remember last night. Praise and pain, those are his things right? Let’s test it out.

The feeling of his tongue laving over your sensitive peak breaks you out of your thoughts and fogs your mind all over again. He shows both of your breasts equal attention, wetting your nipples with long drags of his tongue followed by a skillful swirl of the muscle around your shiny silver bars. “ So good, oh my god.” He hums, sucking a bit harder at the sound of your sweet words.

Your fingers lace through the wine red strands of his hair, scratching and rubbing at his scalp for a bit until he grazes his teeth over the sensitive peak of your nipple. You’re pulling at his roots before you can even process it but the pornographic moan that escapes him as he falls into your touch makes you happy that you did it.

“A pain slut?” Matching smirks paint your faces but his is quickly swept away when you bring your other hand up through his roots and pull again. “I knew it.” You grind into him, the moans escaping him are making you hungry for friction all over again.

His hands grasp your hips, gripping you so tightly that you’re sure there will be beautiful bruises there in the morning. “What gave me away?” His eyes stay on yours as you hold his head back by his hair. Yesterday his gaze was blinding but tonight you find it easier to handle the heat that it causes to rise on the surface of your skin. You’re okay with going blind if he’s the last thing that you see.

“Hm.” His eyes flutter shut at the feeling of your lips ghosting over his pulse “Maybe it was the way you moaned when I stuck you.” Sloppy kisses and small nibbles of his milky flesh draws a moan similar to the one that’s been playing in your head all night to leave his blushed lips.

“Or the way that you grabbed my thigh.” Your teeth sink into the flesh of his neck and the sound that he makes in response is nearly enough to make you cum on the spot. “Or how hard you were when I was finished.”

“Do that again.” So biting is his favorite, huh?

“Say please.”

“Please, do that again. Bite me, harder. Please let me feel that again.” He’s begging? You’ve never been with a man who was willing to do that. A mumbled praise makes his cock twitch against you as one of his hands slips down to your ass, gripping the cheek firmly but not squeezing. Your teeth sink into his neck again, a deep guttural groan escapes him while his fingers dig into the soft flesh of your ass through your jeans. “Oh, baby.”

You pull away at the feeling of a warm spot beneath you. When you look down at your clothed cores the sticky wet spot presents itself to you. He came just from you biting him and he's still hard. No fucking way.

“You made a mess.” A familiar darkness falls upon his gaze and now it's your turn to moan from the grip he has on your hair. “Clean it up for me, angel.”

You crawl backwards off of his lap, lowering down onto your knees as his grip in your hair ensures that your eyes stay on his. He shimmies his pants down with his free hand, your eye contact falters for just a second so that you can steal a glance at his cock. He’s bigger than you thought he’d be, long and curved ever so slightly. The angry red tip is glistening with cum in the low light, you run your tongue along your lips at the thought of sucking him clean.

“One day you’ll give me a pretty tattoo right here, won’t you?” He pulls your hair towards him, controlling your head so that you lean into his hip. You plant a sloppy kiss against his skin, nipping and licking like a desperate puppy. His cock twitches at the feel of your lips on the newly discovered patch of skin. “I’ll be hard as a rock with your pretty face so close to my cock.” He moves your head over just enough for you to lick up some of the cum from his flawless thigh.

“You think you could do it? Think you could be that close to my cock and not put me in your mouth?” Little does he know that you’ve already thought about it and the answer is no. Hell no, absolutely not. “Maybe it would be me who loses control.”

He yanks back on your hair, lifting your head back up to meet his gaze. He brings his bent pointer finger to your chin and runs his thumb down your swollen lips. “I have a feeling that I’ll be addicted to this mouth.” His eyebrow piercing catches the light as he stares down at you and you can’t help but to feel turned on by the fact that you did that to him. You’re responsible for that pretty stud on this pretty man.

“Let’s see if I’m right.” You open your mouth eagerly once he sits back and guides you over to his waiting cock. A hiss escapes him once you take him to the hilt, swallowing around him with watery eyes. He marvels at the way your pretty lips stretch around him, taking every single inch of him until his tip makes your throat bulge and your mouth water. You bob your head, licking and sucking him clean. The taste of his cum is so sweet, so perfect, maybe you’re just insanely horny or maybe he’s your new favorite candy. The only thing you’ll have a craving for from this point on.

“That throat is taking me so well.” The vibration of your hum makes Hyunjin bite his lip as he watches you. You bring your hands up to his naked thighs and claw your nails lightly down the exposed skin. His cock twitches in your mouth and your pussy throbs at the feeling of it. You’re a big fan of foreplay, it’s super important and fun and everything but you would do anything to skip all of this and simply feel Hyunjin’s cock sink into your dripping pussy. “This is what you wanted yesterday isn’t it? This is what you wanted when you were staring at my dick?”

The deep rasp of his voice as he asks such filthy questions makes you press your thighs together, Hyunjin moves his foot in between your knees. Kicking your legs apart and taking away the relief you were chasing.

“Need me now?” Your desperate gaze up at him is all the answer that he needs. He lets go of your hair and you slowly come up off of his cock, swirling your tongue around the tip a bit and releasing him with a string of spit still connecting you. He offers you his hand to help you up off of your knees before dropping to his own right in front of you.

With a burning gaze on your naked stomach he unbuttons your jeans and slowly drags them over the curve of your hips. His eyes scan every inch of newly exposed skin, leaving sweet soft kisses against the silky skin of your thighs. He takes a deep breath before pulling your panties down, his hands lingering against your bare skin as he admires your body. He leans in and places a soft kiss against your exposed center once you step out of your panties. What was supposed to be a simple kiss turned into a few kitten licks against your clit which then quickly evolved into long drags of his tongue through your folds while he palms your ass.

“Hyun- Hyunjin holy fuck.” Your fingers thread into his dark strands again, lightly pulling at his roots and milking moans from him. “Please fuck me. Please just fuck me I want to feel you.”

“Gotta get you ready.” He spits onto your clit, watching it drip down your lips a bit before catching with his tongue and spreading it over your folds. “I need my girl dripping around my cock.”

His lips wrap around your clit and you throw your head back in a silent scream before looking down at him. His eyes are closed as he laps at your pussy, sucking and licking like his life depends on it. You admire the shimmer of his fresh piercing as you watch him, pathetic whimpers falling from you as he dangles your orgasm in front of your face. You’ve been thinking about him for hours and now you’ve finally got him. You get to cum on his tongue and watch him slurp up every drip of your essence.

“I’m gonna cum, oh my god.” Your grip on his hair tightens and he hisses against you. He swirls his skilled tongue around your swollen clit a couple of times and you can feel the blistering heat setting all over your body. You’re so close, it’s so good and then he pulls away.

“Hyun-” Your whine is cut off by the soft yet aggressive feeling of his lips on yours.

“I want you to cum on my cock.” The taste of your pussy on his tongue distracts you from the feeling of him guiding you to the couch. He pushes you down, watching you with a smirk as he pushes his damp hair out of his face. You watch as he pulls his shirt over his head, balling it up and using it to dap at the sweat on his forehead before throwing it to the side with the rest of your clothes. “Do me a favor.”

His fingers dig into your plush waist as he positions you. He props his knee on the soft cushion, lining himself up with your entrance and teasing your sopping folds with his leaky tip. “Anything.” You fist the pillow right above you, placing it under your head to get a bit more comfortable.

“Call me baby.” He slips into you before you can even reply to him, stretching you out so deliciously and filling up your gushing pussy until his tip kisses your cervix. The moan that echoes through his apartment is high pitched and airy, your lungs burn from the electricity charged air as you cry out for him, gripping at the couch cushions as you try to ground yourself.

“Baby.” The first time that his hips snap into you his jaw clenches and his eyes roll to the back of his head. His imagination barely did you justice last night, his fist is nothing compared to the way that your pussy is clenching around him. The ungodly squelches of his cock plunging into you sends shivers down his spine.

“Fuck, you’re heaven.” He coos, the rasp in his voice makes your pussy clench around him as he presses your thighs back towards your chest. Hyunjin picks up the pace, snapping into you with unholy force.

It’s been so long since you’ve felt anything but your own fingers and it’s been even longer since you’ve been fucked this good. Not even Minho can top this and he was the best fuck you ever had. The mascara stained tears running down your cheeks translates all of that to Hyunjin without you having to say a word, it’s not like you could say anything but his name even if you wanted to. Your orgasm creeps up on you again, dangling in front of you like bait for a fish.

“Hyun - Hyunjin please don’t stop. Gonna cum gonna -” You cry out as he slams into you, filling you to the hilt and staying as still as possible. “Please please, ‘s so close please.”

“Not yet, baby.” he beckons you with two fingers, motioning for you to sit up. He helps you up, shifting your position so that you’re on top of him. You clench around him at the movement and he hisses at the tight feel of you. He’s close too but he wants you to fall apart on top of him. He wants to see you fall apart up close so that he can fuck his fist to the memory of it for days after.

“Ride me, come on.” A firm slap to your ass makes your hips buck into him as you start to move along his length.

You’re fucked out, chasing your pleasure desperately on top of a pretty man with a pretty cock. He wraps his arms around you, hugging you against his chest when he suddenly starts fucking up into you. He’s impossibly deep and you find yourself gasping for air against his shoulder. Moans and grunts fill the hot air as you fuck each other. For each thrust into you, you grind down on his cock, keeping him deliciously deep in your cunt. Your teeth mindlessly graze over the slope of his shoulder before you bite down into him. Bite, lick, suck. That’s the pattern you follow, over and over again. Making him sing for you as his fingers caress your spine.

“Come on, you can do it harder than that.” He gasps when you accept his challenge, biting into him with a bruising force. His thrusts become more erratic as he nears his climax but he’s determined to let you soak his cock before he pulls out. “Look at me, baby.”

He leans back into the sofa and his hand moves between your bodies once your eyes meet his. His middle and pointer finger rubs circles into your clit while he ruts up into you “Yes yes, yes ‘s so good.”

“You like my cock, pretty girl?” The fog in your brain is so thick that you can’t help but to babble as your orgasm climbs up your spine for the third time tonight.

“Love it. Love cock, you -you’re cock. Hyunjin, ‘m gonna cum o-on your cock.” He thought that you were breathtaking before but watching you cock drunk and fucked out while you’re bouncing on his dick might be his favorite way to see you.

“Go ahead, cum on my cock.” With a few more sloppy thrusts your body trembles against him as you come undone on top of him. He fucks you through it, keeping his fingers pressed against your clit as you squirm on top of him. Your vision goes white and there’s a ringing in your ears that blocks out every word of praise that falls from Hyunjin’s lips. The only thing that you can register is the pressure of his cock as he simultaneously abuses your cervix and clit.

“Hyun- fuck fuckfuck. So much. Too much.” Once you find the strength to open your eyes you're met with Hyunjin smiling up at you with pinched brows. “You can take it.”

“Pull my hair, baby.” Your trembling hands find their way along the familiar path of his scalp seconds after his request. Pulling at his roots with a delicious force that makes Hyunjin’s eyes roll back as he licks his lips.

“Oh fuck, you’re gonna make me cum.” Moans and whines fall from you nonstop as he fucks into your swollen and sensitive cunt, the wet sound of your arosual where Hyunjin’s cock disappears into you echoes off the walls until he stops, breath hitching in his throat. “Come here.”

His hand is in your hair before you can protest, lifting you off of him and onto your knees. Your cunt feels so empty without him inside of you. “Gonna let me cum on those pretty tits?”

“Yeah, yeah please. Wan' your cum, baby.” He throws his head back, pumping his slick cock in front of your face while you mindlessly slur praises for him. “You’re so fucking pretty, please let me have it. Please, I wan' Jinnie’s cum.”

“Baby, baby, cumming. I’m fucking cumming.” You both watch as thick ropes of his cum paints your breasts. Dripping over your nipples and the shiny studs just how Hyunjin pictured it last night. “Shit.”

Your panting fills the room as you both take a second to come down from your high. Hyunjin offers you his hand, helping you up from your knees and catching you when you stumble a bit with a chuckle. “Let me clean you up so you can lie down.” He sits you on the couch, grabbing his sweats and pulling them on before making his way to the bathroom for a wet cloth.

You blink a couple of times, trying your best to adjust to the light around you. It’s dim but everything seemed darker in your fucked out haze. You settle against the armrest of the sofa, smiling like an idiot while the pulsing of your clit reminds you of everything that just happened. Who would’ve thought that an eyebrow piercing could lead you to having the best fuck of your life. Just as you allow your eyes to flutter shut you feel a heavy vibration under you. With a groan you lift yourself up and search for the source. It’s your jacket, it must be your phone. Oh my gosh, Minho! You sit up with all the strength that you can muster, unlocking your phone and checking your messages.

“Everything alright?” Hyunjin questions as he kneels in front of you with a warm cloth in hand.

“Yup, just fine.” You grin down at your screen before pushing your phone to the side and allowing Hyunjin to wipe you clean.

From Minho: Knew you weren’t coming back.

1K notes · View notes

daechwitatamic · 2 years ago

Text

Just wanted to say THANK YOU for all the love for christmas yoongi!!!! I've never hit 1k before on ANYTHING (last time i got even remotely close was also a yoongi fic.... i see you, yoongi whores, and i send you many kisses) and I hit the 1k on my birthday which felt SO serendipitous so i'll just BE OVER HERE IN A PUDDLE OF TEARS OKAY BYE ENJOY THE HOLIDAYS HAPPY NEW YEAR BYE

All That Holly, Jolly Sh*t || MYG

(banner by @/itaeewon)

Title: All That Holly, Jolly Sh*t

WC: 11k

Genre: exes to lovers, the babiest angst straight to fluffy smut (they’ve got shit to work out, but they get there!!)

Summary: You haven’t seen or heard from Yoongi since he broke your heart five years ago, laying out a logical list of reasons why you were better off breaking up. When a Christmas Eve blizzard traps you together for the night, you have no choice but to examine how few of those reasons are still true. And if they’re not… where does that leave you?

Rating: NSFW - minors DNI

Warnings: manbun!yoongi YES THAT IS A WARNING, drinking, language, kissing, breast play/nip stim, fingering, unprotected sex with bc (be safer than this!!!), multiple orgasms (f), penetrative sex, soft idiots in love

A/N: Merry Christmas, Kelly!!!! @here4btsfics I was soooooo excited to pull your name for @bangtansecretsanta because it gave me such a good opportunity to get to know you better and start talking to you! I really, really hope you love this little Christmas fic!

I know you said no angst so just a lil disclaimer, a synopsis I messaged my beta was "it hurts for a hot minute but then they kiss about it and everyone is fine" so I think you'll be okay!!!

Huge thank you to @kookstempo @moonleeai and @cherrysoulth for beta-ing and to @itaeewon for the gorgeous banner!

“Anything new with you? How’s work?”

You plaster on what you hope is a friendly smile and not a sarcastic one. Seokjin’s girlfriend is super nice, you remember her from a party over the summer, but you do not want to talk about work right now. You want to drown yourself in another cinnamon toast crunch cocktail and double-fist those iced, reindeer-shaped brown-sugar cookies.

You admit to being a little bit on edge.

You’ve attended Taehyung’s annual Christmas party every year since you left for college. It’s tradition, and it’s one of the only times each year that the whole group is back together again after you all went your separate ways in the world.

Except, for the last five years, Yoongi hadn’t attended. You never thought too much about why - too busy, other plans, just the fact that he’s an absolute Grinch… or maybe it’s your presence that keeps him away. You didn’t waste too much time thinking about it. You’re just always happy he isn’t there.

Until this year.

No one even had the decency to shoot you a warning text. Hey, heads up, your ex is here, very unexpectedly.

You knock back the rest of your drink and head to make yourself a new one.

You normally attach yourself to Jimin at these, but he’s betrayed you this year by bringing an absolutely gorgeous date. They’re currently hogging the doorway with mistletoe above it. You make a mental note to remind him tomorrow that the PDA thing stops being cute after a while.

“Work’s good,” you say, finally answering the question. “Nothing new. How about you and Jin? All good?”

“Nothing new to report!” she grins. Then, the smile slips off her face a little as she glances at her phone. She notices you watching and grimaces. “Sorry,” she says, “I’m not trying to be rude, I’m just keeping an eye on the radar. The storm tonight is supposed to get nasty.”

“Hey! What’s the rule tonight?” a voice bellows from the living room. It’s Taehyung, perched against the back of one of his couches, and he points an accusatory finger at the girl you’re talking to.

She must know something you don’t, because while you’re baffled, she looks chagrined. “Don’t talk about the blizzard,” she recites by rote.

“Don’t talk about the blizzard,” he repeats. “Have another drink. It’s Christmas Eve, we welcome the snow.”

“You’re the only person I know who’s optimistic enough to try to throw a party on a night they’re calling for the storm of the century,” Seokjin tells him, making his way into the kitchen - probably to protect his girlfriend from Taehyung’s scoldings.

“They say that every time,” Taehyung scoffs, waving a hand. Then he’s up and moving, heading towards the dining room, where a spread of food is laid out.

There must be more people in there, you think, because the kitchen and the living room are definitely looking a little less crowded than they were an hour ago. Yoongi and Hoseok are on the couch, glasses in hand, talking quietly. The tv, mounted high on the wall, plays a classic Christmas film in black and white. You stop before the balcony doors, peering out into the night. The lamps that line the parking lot glow orange, and you can see in the lamplight that snow is falling steadily, and it’s starting to accumulate a little on the pavement below.

Jimin comes up beside you. His date’s lipstick is still smudged in the corner of his mouth.

“You’re a hot mess,” you tell him affectionately.

“I think we’re gonna head out,” he tells you, ignoring the jab.

You shake your head, your earrings glittering in your reflection in the glass. “It’s not even nine,” you point out.

“The roads are going to get slick,” he tells you, suddenly serious. “You should think about getting an Uber before too long, too.”

“You’re going to break Taehyung’s heart,” you inform him. “I think he’s starting to catch on that people are leaving.”

“He should have rescheduled the party!” Jimin says hotly; he and Taehyung had argued about this passionately all week, ever since the forecast picked up on the storm coming through. “We could have done this yesterday, no blizzard, everyone would have stayed all night!”

Jimin’s date slinks over and presses her hand to his upper back. “Ready?” she asks, voice like silk.

“Bye,” you tell him sulkily. In the reflection, you watch him pause to tell Yoongi and Hoseok goodbye. They each stand, reaching in one at a time to give him a quick one-armed hug goodbye.

You keep watching the reflection in the glass as Hoseok takes advantage of already being up and heads for the dining room.

You knew it would happen at some point tonight - you’re alone in the living room with Yoongi. You’d just hoped it would happen after you were a lot drunker.

He meanders over. You glance at the drink in his hand - whiskey, neat. You could have guessed that on a gameshow and earned some money.

He’s dressed in all black - down to the chelsea boots. His hair is half-up in a bun that sits just behind the crown of his head. The rest brushes the tops of his shoulders, curling slightly at the ends.

He’d never had long hair like this before. It’s a crime how fucking good it looks.

Your gameplan tonight has been simple: avoid, avoid, avoid. But Yoongi stands close enough to reach out and touch you, sips at his whiskey, and murmurs, “It’s been a while.”

Five years. But who’s counting?

“It has,” you allow. You hate confrontation, you don’t want this to be a thing. You’re determined to be polite, play nice, and hopefully get out of here unscathed. “How have you been? Are you enjoying yourself?”

He wiggles his head. “Eh. You know I’m not into all that holly, jolly shit.”

“It’s a Christmas party,” you point out flatly. “Holly, jolly is kind of the point.”

He shrugs. “The point for me is just to see the guys, catch up with everyone. It’s been a long time since we were all together.”

He means we the guys, not we you and him. But your heart still speeds up at the word, the traitor.

You nod, turning away from him to look outside again. But your eyes stay on his reflection, both of you standing with your backs to the party. He looks down at his drink, swirls the amber liquid around the bottom of the glass.

“You always did hate the holidays,” you observe absently.

“We don’t have to do this, you know,” he says, so gently that it shocks you into turning to look at him.

“Do what?”

“Rehash everything,” he says with a shrug. “Talk about everything we remember. Talk at all.”

“If you don’t want to talk to me, then don’t,” you snap, suddenly defensive and heated. “You came over here, not the other way around.” So much for polite and non-confrontational. But damn, he has some audacity.

“That’s not what I meant,” he says, a little quickly, holding up his one empty hand like he’s surrendering. “I just meant… don’t feel like you have to, if you don’t want to. Don’t do it for my sake.”

Your temper settles, but you still feel a little… disgruntled, unsettled. “If I didn’t want to talk to you, I wouldn’t be,” you grumble.

He smiles at this. “That’s right. You never do anything you don’t want to do.”

Maybe that used to be the case.

The liquor takes over your mouth. “I didn’t want to break up,” you say pointedly, “so I guess that’s not true.”

He huffs out a single laugh, shaking his head at your audacity. “You always just say shit,” he murmurs. “To hell with the consequences.”

“What consequences?” you demand, turning to face him fully. “Are you going to dump me more? I fail to see how I could make things worse for us after five years of not speaking.”

He licks his lips, eyes on his glass again. That was the thing about you and Yoongi - he’s right, you did just say shit. And he always just handled it. He always heard you, processed it, and dealt with it productively. He never took the bait and got mad back, never yelled - even when you’d wished he’d yell.

“It’s because,” he’d told you, sometime around seven years ago, when you were together, “when you say absolutely wild shit like that, you always mean something else. And I just happen to be very good at translating you.”

Now, he meets your eyes again, having processed. Having translated. “What I’m hearing you say,” he says slowly, “is that you’re still mad at me.”

That’s all it takes to take the wind out of your sails - that’s always how it worked with you and Yoongi. You blustered and got worked up, and he defused you easily - just by meeting your gaze, just by assuring you that you were heard.

“I think I’m mad at our circumstances,” you correct quietly. “And I think I’ve had too many of these.” You eye the cocktail in your hand with narrowed, accusatory eyes.

He gives you the barest sliver of a smile. “Don’t blame the drinks,” he says, shaking his head. “You never could lie to me - it has nothing to do with alcohol.”

He’s right. For all your faults, for all the negatives you can take credit for, you always told him the truth.

Namjoon appears in the living room, a beer in hand, still in the bottle.

“I’m trying to decide which one of you needs to be rescued from the other,” he admits, looking between you, “and I honestly can’t tell.”

“Rescue him from me,” you say. “He’s been nice and I’ve been prickly.”

“You?” Namjoon says in mock surprise. “Prickly? No way.”

You flip him off, smiling.

Seokjin comes up behind Namjoon, clapping him on the shoulder. “I think we’re going,” he says, looking past you to the snow outside. “I don’t want to drive once the roads are slick.”

Namjoon sighs, following his gaze. “I was having fun,” he says sadly. “But I’m probably not too far behind you.”

“Nooo,” Taehyung whines from the dining room. “Everyone stop leaving! It’s just a little snow!”

Seokjin’s girlfriend finds him, joining your little circle, her phone still in her hand. “We’re supposed to have almost three inches by midnight,” she says in a whisper, clearly not wanting Taehyung to come after her. “We need to get moving.”

When Seokjin and his girlfriend leave, you float back towards the dining room. Namjoon and Yoongi stay behind, talking quietly. Probably, Namjoon is checking to make sure you weren’t too mean to him. Which… that’s fair.

The truth is, you aren’t mad at Yoongi. How could you be? When he ended things, he hadn’t been cruel, or unfair. His decision had been made logically. You understood exactly why he felt he needed to do it.

That’s where the hurt came from, you figured. You were always led by your emotions - quick to anger, but quick to laugh. Yoongi was always more even-tempered, logical. While you were packing up your life to move away from home for university, he’d laid out the reasons you shouldn’t stay together like they were a grocery list.

Like it didn’t hurt him at all.

None of his reasons were wrong. But would it have killed him to act like he cared? You’d been together three years - and you felt like they should count more, since they were such formative ones. Like dog years - each one should have counted for seven. It had broken your heart to let him walk away - shouldn’t he have felt something, too?

You’d dated plenty in college, a few of those relationships getting serious enough to last a few months. But at the end of the day, nobody compared to your first love. How could they? How could anyone?

No one understood you like Yoongi. No one could translate you like Yoongi. No one knew - or learned - how to settle you down like Yoongi. No one had that mental encyclopedia of useless knowledge like Yoongi. No one else had that perfect blend of dry and earnest like Yoongi. No one else fit to your body like a puzzle piece like Yoongi.

It didn’t matter. It didn’t matter then, and it doesn’t matter now. Yoongi had left, Yoongi had taken the decision right out of your hands and walked away with it. You weren’t mad at him, but you definitely resented that.

You’d had years to get over it, to forgive him, to come to terms with the fact that he was right about every single thing. But forgiveness and understanding are one thing. Letting go - of him, of loving him - is something else entirely, and you’re starting to think that even a lifetime of years won’t be enough for that.

That’s enough of that, you think, giving yourself a rough mental shake. You set down your drink glass and head for the bathroom, but it’s occupied. You lean against the wall outside, counting your breaths, trying to get yourself back into that holly, jolly headspace.

The door opens and Jungkook emerges, singing under his breath, “Pah-rum-pum-pum-pum!”

“Hi, JayKay,” you say, moving to slide past him into the bathroom.

“Oh, hey!” he says brightly. “I was just about to leave. You have a way to get home, right? It’s getting worse out there.”

“I was just going to Uber,” you tell him.

“Better do it soon,” he warns. “Soon the drivers aren’t going to want to be on the roads.”

“Good point,” you say, and wave a quick goodbye before shutting the bathroom door. You give yourself a stern look in the mirror.

Get it together, please, you think firmly. Seeing your ex - this ex, too, not just a casual one - for the first time in five years earns you a little wallowing, you think, and you fully intend to. At home. Later. Not here, in front of everyone.

Not here, in front of him.

Back in the kitchen, the party has really dwindled down to the last few people. Outside, snow falls as steadily as Taehyung’s guest list.

The peer pressure gets to you, and you pull out your phone and open a ride-share app. It takes a while before a driver connects, but you’re persistent. Once you have a driver, you watch the little image of their car start to head in your direction on the map.

From the dining room, you hear Yoongi make a tch of frustration. “No one is picking up for me,” he grumbles, seemingly to himself.

“Good,” Taehyung says seriously. “Don’t leave me.”

You go find your coat, slipping your arms into the sleeves and doing up each button. When you return to the dining room, Yoongi and Taehyung are the only ones left. Taehyung is fully, blatantly, sulking, his arms crossed on the table and his chin resting dejectedly atop them.

“Better luck next time, bud,” you tell him kindly.

Yoongi is still squinting at his phone screen, frowning.

You feel a twinge of concern, of the need to make it better for him the way you used to on a regular basis. “Still nothing?”

He shakes his head. “I don’t even see anyone on the map.”

You check your phone again - your car is just up the road. “I have one,” you tell him. “Join mine - we’ll just request the extra stop.”

Yoongi meets your eyes, holds your gaze for a minute. Then, he says, so seriously, “Are you sure?”

You know he means it. You know if you give any indication that you don’t want him in a car with you, he won’t push it.

“Yeah,” you say. “Of course. I’m not going to leave you stranded here.”

“Why not?” Taehyung whines, kicking his feet a little in protest.

“My car’s just here though,” you warn, eyes on your screen, both of you absolutely ignoring the host of the party.

“I’ll grab my coat,” Yoongi says, and heads for the hallway.

“Sorry, Taehyung,” you say sympathetically. “I know you’re sad.”

He refuses to look at you.

After giving over-the-top goodbye hugs to try and un-sulk the whiny baby, you and Yoongi head down the stairs and outside. You don’t look behind you to check that Yoongi is following. The car idles by the curb, and you double-check the license plate against the app.

In the backseat of the car, you slide over to make room for Yoongi. As soon as he closes his door and the car lurches into motion, the vibe changes. You sit stiffly, ramrod straight, eyes on the windshield. Yoongi’s not sitting quite as straight as you, but there’s a tightness to his shoulders, like he’s holding himself carefully so he doesn’t touch you by accident with the car’s inertia.

You had put in your parent’s address when you requested the ride, since that’s where you’re staying until New Years’ Day. You and Yoongi sit in blasting, blaring silence as the car crosses the middle of the town you’d both grown up in, that you’d run around in together as teenagers in love. But, past town, towards the quiet neighborhood where your parents’ house is, the car slows to a stop.

“I can’t go through this way, Miss,” your driver says, peering at you through the rearview mirror. “There’s a powerline down up there.”

“Oh shit,” you say, which is probably not very polite of you. You lean forward to look at the same time Yoongi does, your shoulders bumping. You both recoil quickly.

“I think you can get to the development from the other side,” you muse, “but we’d have to backtrack and go around the lake on the other side…”

“Let’s just go to my place,” Yoongi interjects. “The roads are getting worse, and it’s close.”

You frown. Yoongi’s parents’ house - which you’d been to plenty of times as a younger person - is on the other side of town. Not close by your standards, but you aren’t here to argue.

Or maybe you are.

“I don’t know, Yoongi,” you say, uncertainty creeping into your voice. “How will I get home from there?”

“You might have to stay,” he admits, leaning down to better look at the road through the front windshield. The driver sits, watching you debate, waiting for a directive.

You give Yoongi a silent look like, okay, and so you see my problem?

He scoffs at you. “It’s fine. We can handle one night.”

You want to ask, how sure are you about that? Instead, you start to tell the driver Yoongi’s parents’ address.

“Wait,” Yoongi says, putting a hand gently on your arm to stop you. You both freeze, looking at the point of contact. Yoongi shakes himself out of it first, and tells the driver a different address.

The car shifts back into drive and you look at Yoongi quizzically.

“Did your family move?” you ask finally.

Here’s the thing. You know Yoongi, you get Yoongi; five years apart hasn’t changed that at all. So when he licks his lips, shifts his gaze to his feet, and starts rubbing the back of his neck, you know it’s guilt.

“Yoongi?” you prod, suspicious.

He mumbles something, still not looking at you.

“What?” you snap. “You what?”

“I sort of moved back last month…” he repeats to the floor.

“You live here?” you repeat, dumbfounded. “You live in town again?”

“Currently, yeah,” he says, and there’s something in that currently that you’d really like to examine, but you’re still fucking floored.

Yoongi had gone to university in the city - hours away. The distance thing was reasons one through four of his Why We Need to Break Up list. It had made sense, logistically. It made sense when you went abroad for university, and he stayed here. It made sense when you returned and got an internship and then a full-time job in a different city, hours in the opposite direction. It made sense when you managed to go five entire years without being in the same place.

But now he was here. Reasons one through four, moot.

Reasons five to whatever largely revolved around being young and needing to experience the world and figure out what you want in life, that kind of shit. Now it’s five years later and you’ve both experienced plenty of bullshit.

Reasons five through whatever, moot.

You wonder, wordlessly, heart pounding again, if Yoongi knows or cares that every reason he gave you to validate walking away no longer applies.

“You live here,” you repeat. You’re stuck on it, you can’t move on. “I didn’t know.”

“Yeah,” he says guiltily. “I know you didn’t. I… was honestly fighting with myself about if I should reach out or not. I guess I ultimately decided not… since you’re in the city, and you have your whole life and everything…”

What life? You wonder.

The car pulls into a small, understated neighborhood. You’ve been here before; your chemistry partner from tenth grade lived in this development, you’d come to do homework more than once.

It’s always so weird to come back to this town, where everywhere you go has memories, secondary definitions. It’s not just a library, it’s the library where Yoongi had kissed you for the first time. It’s not just a park, it’s the park where you’d had your first fight, where you’d screamed at him in front of God and the ducks and all the moms pushing strollers. It’s not just a diner, it’s the diner where Yoongi had told you that it made no sense to try and stay together from different time zones.

Everything came back to him. It always had. It always does. In a lot of ways, you felt like you were fated to be tied to him this way - and you usually didn’t believe in shit like that.

You always break your own rules for him.

The place is small, and not very Yoongi-ish, but you keep your thoughts to yourself as Yoongi slides out of the car and waits for you.

“Get home safe,” you tell the driver before closing the door. Yoongi’s got his house keys in his hand, and he leads you up the walkway. It’s slick, and you try to step only in the footprints he leaves in the inch of snow coating the ground.

Inside, the light over the sink illuminates a small, mostly empty kitchen. That’s not very Yoongi-ish either, you think. You remember him cooking all the time - appliances everywhere, cutting boards hanging, pots and pans stored on hooks.

He passes the kitchen and enters what looks like the living room, reaching to click on a few dim lamps. They cast a yellow glow to the room.

You set down your purse and fold your coat up on top of it. Yoongi waits for you in the living room, his hands in his pockets, his eyes on the window, watching the snow. His jawline from the side nearly takes your breath away. He’s so damn beautiful it makes you sick.

And he’s back, Yoongi is back.

“Do you want something to drink?” he asks, finally looking at you.

“Whatever you’re having would be great,” you tell him. You settle gingerly on one end of the couch as he busies himself in the kitchen. You shoot your parents a quick text that the roads were too bad and you weren’t going to make it back to their place so they wouldn’t worry.

Yoongi returns with two glasses of red wine. He hands you one wordlessly and sits opposite you on the couch.

“So,” you say. The awkward, hyper-polite vibe from the car is back. Like you’re strangers. Like you didn’t know each other inside and out, once. “You’ve been here a month?”

“Just shy of it,” Yoongi corrects politely. “I signed a two month lease, so… I’ve got a few weeks to figure out my next move.”

“You don’t think you’ll stay?” you ask, then sip at the wine. It’s good - of course it’s good, he’s got great taste. You love and hate that about him.

He shrugs, drinks from his own glass. “Doubt it.”

He doesn’t give you any more information than that - why he’s back, what’s next for him, why he’s here for such a short time.

You don’t press it. He’ll tell you if he wants to.

Instead, you both drink in silence. Outside, the snow seems to redouble its efforts, the wind picking up until it seems to be snowing sideways for minutes at a time before calming into a normal downward fall again.

“I think we made the right choice,” Yoongi murmurs, and it takes you a second to realize he’s talking about the weather and Taehyung’s party, not about your past.

“Mhm,” you nod, as you come back into the present. That’s a problem you have - you’re always looking back. “Imagine if we were just leaving now? What a mess. Thanks for taking me in, I guess.”

“You guess,” he repeats, rolling his eyes, but there’s no ire in it.

You drink in silence a little longer, and then Yoongi rises with a sigh. “I’ll go put clean sheets on the bed,” he says, sort of absently, like he’s both talking to you and also just thinking out loud. “And then I’ll show you how to work the tv in there if you –”

“I’m not sleeping in your bed, Yoongi,” you tell him flatly.

He balks. “I didn’t mean with me, I meant by yourself!”

“No, I know that,” you reassure him. “But I’m not letting you sleep on your own couch because of me. I’ll sleep out here. It’s fine.”

“Absolutely not,” he says, shaking his head vehemently. That long hair swishes. “You’re a guest. I’m not putting you on the couch.”

“Yoongi,” you say sternly. “If I know you’re out here on the couch and I’m in there with your whole friggin bed, I will simply not sleep because I will feel too guilty about it! And I would like to sleep. So, please, put your chivalry and hospitality aside, and let me sleep. Out here.”

He considers this, because he knows you, and he knows you’re telling the truth. “Fine,” he concedes, and disappears into what must be his bedroom.

When he returns, he’s carrying a stack of what looks like linens. He sets down the pile and you spy blankets and pillows. He pushes the pillows aside gently and picks up something else, turning to hold it out to you, an offering.

It’s gym shorts and a large tshirt, and you reach to take them without thinking. Once they’re in your hand, they feel suddenly heavy with meaning. You used to wear his clothes all the time - you might have one or two of his hoodies in the back of your closet at home because you love them and don’t want to get rid of them, even though you feel too weird to actually wear them. You’re not sure how you feel about wearing his clothes again, now that it means nothing. The alternatives are pretty undesirable, though, so you’ll have to grin and bear it.

“There’s a half-bath on the other side, through the kitchen,” he says, nodding towards the bathroom in question. “So you don’t have to feel weird walking through my room to the full bath if you don’t want to. Though... do you need to shower? I can get you towels and stuff –”

“Maybe in the morning?” you say, eyeing the clock on the wall. “Just… could I borrow face-soap? And toothpaste?”

You’ll have to make do without your make-up remover and an actual toothbrush. Finger-brushing it is.

When you emerge from the bathroom, teeth freshly finger-brushed, wearing Yoongi’s clothes, he’s standing at the kitchen sink, rinsing out the wine glasses you’d used.

You brush past him silently, and start setting up the couch how you want it. You hear the sink turn off, the click of the lightswitch as he shuts off the lights behind him. He comes back through the room and pauses in his doorway.

“Do you need anything?” he asks.

“No,” you say, feeling small in his baggy shirt, feeling small in the face of all the feelings you’re swimming in right now. “I’m all good.”

He looks at you for a long minute, searching. “Okay,” he says, finally. “Sleep well.”

He turns into his room, and you watch his skinny wrist turn as he reaches to shut the door.

“Yoongi,” you say, the word out of your mouth before you really know what will follow it. He pauses, peeks his head back into view, raises an eyebrow at you. “Thanks,” you say, meekly.

He nods, silent, then reaches to close his door, gently and effectively shutting you out.

You get comfortable on the couch, bunching the blanket up around your head how you like it. It takes almost no time at all to fall asleep, and when you do, you don’t dream.

You’re awakened sometime later by a noise, and you sit up, your brain scrambling to catch up to the present and figure out where you are.

A couch, it processes. It comes back to you a little at a time. Yoongi’s couch. Yoongi’s house. Yoongi’s house in town.

The noise that woke you must have been his bedroom door opening, because as you slowly get your bearings, you become aware of him staring at you from his doorway.

“Didn’t mean to wake you,” he says apologetically, then moves across the room towards the kitchen. “I just needed water.” Then, from the kitchen, as an afterthought, he asks, “Do you want one?”

“Please,” you say immediately, mentally cataloging all the effects of dehydration you can feel. Cottony mouth, ringing ears, the tingling beginnings of a headache…

He returns to the living room and stops near the couch. You stretch to turn on one of the dim lamps, casting a quiet yellow on the room. He stands there in too-big pajamas and holds out a water bottle silently.

It’s definitely still the middle of the night. You can’t have slept more than a few hours. Everything feels different, somehow. It was so awkward before; you’d felt the need to be cautious and hyper-polite. Now everything feels blurred, fuzzy with sleep, softer. You’re sitting up, the blanket you’d been sleeping under still over your lap. You reach over and lift the other side, holding it up like a question.

Yoongi pads over and sits on the far side of the couch, but he curls his legs up and slips his bare feet under the blanket. You let it fall, covering him from the shin down.

He taps on his phone and grimaces at the time. “Hey,” he says, a little wry, “Merry Christmas.”

You smile. “Merry Christmas, Yoongi.”

He taps at his screen again and a speaker near his tv comes to life, playing what has to be a Coffee Shop Christmas playlist, pre-curated. You lean your head against the back of the couch, listening to the strum of acoustic guitar and the gentle snare of a drum meander through a mellow, lethargic version of It Came Upon a Midnight Clear.

“Christmas music, huh?” you tease, eyes closed. “That’s very holly, jolly of you.”

“I don’t hate Christmas,” he protests. “I’m not, like, a Grinch. It’s just… another day. So is tomorrow. Why all the fuss?”

You bump his foot with your knee beneath the blanket. “Scrooge.”

Ignoring your teasing, he looks sideways at you, something baleful on his face. “Y/N? I wanted to tell you I’m sorry.”

You’re surprised into silence, looking back at him across the couch. “What? What for?”

He grimaces, like the answer is too big, like he’s got an annotated list of every fault he’s mentally cataloged. “For all of it, I guess.”

You’re not letting him off the hook; this is too important to skirt around. “What are you sorry for, Yoongi?” you ask seriously.

He laughs once, quietly, incredulously, like he can’t believe you. “You really want to go there?”

“You know I do.”

He thinks before he speaks - one of your favorite things about him. “Because for the last five years, I hated myself for leaving you behind. And I wondered every day if you hated me for it, too.”

You sit in silence, feeling frozen. Yoongi lets you - Yoongi waits. Is he admitting regret? Does that mean he’d do it differently, given the chance?

Because here you are - being given the chance, in a way.

“I was never mad at you for going,” you tell him, because you know he needs to know. Yoongi doesn’t say things he doesn’t mean, which means he really did wonder if you hated him. You don’t owe him much, but you figure you owe him this truth. Then you admit, “But I was mad at myself for… letting you. Did you… I mean, should I have argued? When you left?”

You’d always wondered. What would have happened if you’d fought just a little harder for him to stay?

He scoots a little closer, tugging the blanket closer to his knees, thinking about your question. “I think part of me had hoped you would… but it wouldn’t have changed my mind,” he tells you honestly. “Just would’ve made it hurt more. The way things happened, I could lie and tell myself you were fine with letting me go.”

You exhale on a note of indignation. “Fine? That was you. You were so… okay with walking away.”

He shakes his head. He must have taken the bun out when he went to bed, and his hair swishes around his shoulders, loose and beautiful. “I wasn’t okay. I didn’t go a single day and not wonder… how you were. I didn’t go a single day sure that I made the right choice.”

You feel, weirdly, kind of pissed. “What am I supposed to do with that, Yoongi? Seriously?”

He opens his mouth to answer this rhetorical question, but you don’t let him. The words pour out of you, unleashed after five years of being held back.

“This is just… unfair. Because normally, in the movies, when you get this moment - the post-mortem - with someone from your past… they always ask why, right? Why’d you leave? But I don’t need to ask why - I know the why, I understood why. I want to know… I want to know if you regret it. If you’d take it back.”

“That’s two different questions,” he says solemnly, “with two different answers.”

You cut your eyes at him. It’s the middle of the night and your brain is mostly mush. You need him to just be forthcoming, just say things plainly.

He knows.

“Of course I regret it,” he whispers finally, as if the words hold too much weight to utter any louder. “I regretted it while I was still saying it. I hated being away from you, I hated not talking to you, I hated not knowing how you were or what you were doing or if you… still cared about me at all.” He pauses, inhales slowly, rubs a hand down his tired face, then exhales with a whoosh. “But would I take it back? I don’t know.”

You exhale, eyeing the ceiling. Who’s the one just saying shit now? God. “You can’t just say things like that, Yoongi,” you tell him, eyes trained on the shitty, popcorn ceiling above you.

He says your name, still so soft, so quiet.

“What?”

“Don’t cry.”

It’s so stupid. You hadn’t cried then, not in front of him. You wipe hastily under your eyes. “Sorry,” you say hastily, trying to save face. “It’s the lack of sleep.”

“I’m not sure I would take it back,” he repeats carefully, and you realize he hadn’t been done before - you’d interrupted his thought, “because when I left… I knew the whole time that it didn’t make anything better. But if I hadn’t… I think I’d still be wondering if I should, if we’d be better apart. I wouldn’t know, so the question would still be hanging over me.”

You think he’s saying something without saying it, but it’s like four in the morning and you just aren’t sure.

“But now?” you prod.

He shrugs, like it’s so simple. “Now I know the answer.”

You want to shake him. You’ve never had a conversation go in circles like this in your life, and you need to get to the center of it. “Yoongi,” you say, your voice tight like a warning.

He knows.

He always knows. He cuts to the chase. “I have a job lined up in the city.”

You almost drop your water bottle. “My city?”

“Your city.”

“Yoongi,” you say again, pleading. “Just say what you mean.” Please.

He smiles your favorite of his smiles - only one half of his mouth lifts at first, cocky, until it spreads the rest of the way and shows his gums in all their glory. “Just thinking about that whole list of reasons we shouldn’t be together… null and void now, don’t you think?”

You feel like you can’t breathe. You’ve both been circling it like predators, and now you’re closing in.

“So what does that mean? For you?” Do you dare to ask it? You do. “For us?”

Someone else, you think, would probably have asked you, what do you want it to mean?

But it’s Yoongi - and Yoongi knows the answer already.

He’s pushing the blanket off of his legs - and yours - and coming to hover over you. Your body responds, laying back against the pillow you’d been sleeping on, making room for him like it remembers exactly how you fit. Your fingers find his jaw like they’re magnetically drawn, your thumb sliding against his cheek.

His hair falls around your faces like a curtain, blocking out the dim lamplight, as his mouth finds yours.

Kissing him again is everything. It’s absolutely everything. He’s home, he’s wilderness, he’s calm, he’s the whole damn storm, he’s undoing every seam you have, he’s stitching you back together, he’s beautiful beautiful beautiful.

His lips are soft but sure against yours, his jaw moving under the press of your fingers. You feel like you’re flying, falling, maybe both, as your eyelids flutter. He’s bracing himself with his hands on either side of you, holding himself over you. You were resting your free hand against his side, his ribs like piano keys beneath your palm, and you find yourself bunching his shirt into your fist, trying to pull yourself up, closer, closer.

You have to will yourself not to babble against his mouth, I missed you, I missed you, I missed you. You could say it six hundred times and it still wouldn’t get it all out of you. You pour it into the kiss instead, straining up to meet him, beating words away from your mouth as you toy with his bottom lip.

He drops his lower body carefully, pinning your hips beneath his own, shifting to hold himself up on elbows instead of hands. The weight of him is welcome; something needs to keep you tethered to this planet.

He licks into your mouth, tongue sliding against yours, and you inhale sharply against his mouth.

“Yoongi,” you murmur against his lips, and he turns his head to kiss your palm where it’s been resting against his face. There’s something so tender about it that tears spring to your eyes, and you blink them away quickly.

Then he’s leaning down to capture your mouth again, humming a low, happy note against you. You go for the hem of his shirt, pulling until it gets tangled against his armpits. He sits back on his haunches, helping you pull it over his head and tossing it somewhere behind you. Your eyes trace him, over and over, trying to remember every shade and every line, trying to find every difference from five years ago. He’s beautiful, flushing dark across the chest, eyes positively predatory in their focus on you.

“You, too,” he says, sounding a little breathless, and you scoot back and sit up. He goes for your hem before you can, tugging it up and over your head. The cold air assaults you and you shiver. Yoongi makes a noise somewhere between a groan and a growl in appreciation, lowering himself over you again. His kiss is insistent this time, one hand coming up to cup a breast, fingers deftly rolling your nipple, sending electricity skittering down your spine. You whine, deep in your throat, and you feel his lips quirk into a smile.

“Would you kick my ass if I said ‘I’ve missed your tits’ right now?” he asks, chest quaking as he tries to rein in laughter.

“Yes,” you grumble, reaching to weave your fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck. You tug him back so you can kiss him again, and he lets out a quiet, breathy moan as you do.

“Okay,” he says, in between kisses, “but I did.” Then he puts his money where his mouth is - or maybe vice-versa - to prove it, lowering his head and taking the other nipple in his mouth, flicking it lightly with his tongue. Your whole body reacts, feet stretching, back arching to push against his body, fingers tightening in his hair as you moan out loud. Each little motion of his mouth ignites sparks that reach every part of you - the pit of your stomach, the base of your spine, clear down to your toes.

It’s honestly embarrassing how turned on you get as he continues, working one side until you’re writhing beneath him, thighs rubbing together desperately, then switching to continue his onslaught on the other side.

“Yoongi,” you gasp, and some absent part of your brain is aware that his name is the only coherent word you’ve said in a while. “Please, you’re torturing me.”

He releases you with a wet pop, grinning up at you deviously. “So pretty when you beg like that,” he remarks, like he’s observing the weather - which is still a fucking blizzard, by the way. Then he’s coming up to kiss you again, deep and slow this time. His hand slides along your bare stomach, around and under your back, and you arch your back partly to make room for his arm underneath you, and partly because you can’t not, as his fingers leave a trail of goosebumps in their wake.

“Please, what?” he murmurs, lips close to your neck, his fingers tracing the edge of the shorts you’re wearing - his shorts. “What do you want?”

“Anything - whatever you’ll give me,” you manage. All you can focus on is his fingers, their circular path along your lower stomach, toying with your waistband.

It must be the right answer, because he slips his hand into your shorts, fingers pressing along your slit, your underwear clinging to you already. He slides his fingers along the slickened fabric, eyes on your face, listening to the tiny moans that escape when you exhale.

He shifts to his side, between you and the back of the couch, and you loop an arm around his neck - half to hold yourself up on the couch, and half because you need to be holding him. You can feel how hard he is now, as his body presses against your legs. He distracts you with a kiss, and slips your panties aside, wasting no time in sheathing his middle finger up to the last knuckle.

You hiss his name, your head lolling back against the couch in pleasure, your neck bared to him. He gives it a quick nip and then a kiss as he adds a second finger, pumping in and out of you slowly. You groan, the sound rumbling from your chest. You could let him do this all night if you had the patience - just this simple act feels so good you think you might come undone.

And if you remember anything about sex with Yoongi, he’s just getting started.

He slips his fingers out of you and brings them up to your clit, circling once, then twice, before going back to where he started, the pad of his middle finger circling your entrance, careful to stay just outside.

Your whole body turns to jelly, everything quivering from head to toe at the sensation. You grip the couch with both hands, digging your fingers in. “Ohhh my god,” you manage, something accusatory in your tone, like you’re asking him how the fuck are you doing that?

He smiles against you, middle finger still running in lazy circles through the wetness collecting there. “That’s right, I know what you like,” he murmurs, smug, his lips tickling your neck, before plunging both fingers back into your heat without warning. He repeats the cycle - in, out, up, down, around, around, in again - until you’re dizzy from it, your fingers clutching the fabric of the couch so hard that you’re sure you’ll rip it.

You have one single moment of clarity that sends you reaching down to where you can feel him hot and hard against your leg, but he shifts away, tutting.

“You first,” he says. “I want to see you make that face you make. It’s been literal years.”

“Oh my god,” you say, feeling yourself flush. “Yoongi! Seriously?”

He laughs, shoulders shaking. “What? I love to watch you lose your shit. What a fucking ego boost.” He punctuates these words with a quick change of wrist direction, suddenly pistoning against your front wall in a way that has your comeback melting right out of your brain.

He’d had you close before, and the sudden switch-up does the trick - you feel everything tighten from your shoulders to your toes, your eyes screwing shut. Yoongi shifts his weight to hold your leg in place so you can’t try to close them on him and redoubles his efforts, humming in pleasure as you squeeze around his fingers like a vice.

You let out a series of wordless cries as the pleasure builds to the point you want to shy away from it, and then Yoongi presses his thumb to your clit just so and you’re spiraling over the edge, your ears filled with a buzzing white noise, your toes curling, your desperate hands leaving the couch and clutching Yoongi instead, trusting him to guide you to the other side.

When you come down, heart hammering in your chest, you bat his hand away, breaths heaving.

“Take those off,” you pant, tugging on the bit of his pants you can reach, and shimmying your own bottoms the rest of the way off and dumping them onto the floor.

“Bossy,” Yoongi remarks, smirking sideways at you as he obeys.

You resituate yourself against the arm of the couch as he comes to kneel near your feet, stroking himself languidly. You both freeze with the same thought at the same time.

“Do I…” he says hesitantly, “do you want me to wear -?”

You stare at him, wide-eyed, mind racing for an answer. You’re tempted to just tell him it’s fine, because surely having a how many people have you been with in the five years since we broke up conversation will absolutely kill the mood right now. But that’s not really safe.

“Maybe you’d better?” you venture. “Have you -? I mean, we don’t need to talk about this right now. But I haven’t been with anyone without… you know.”

“Same here, and I got tested after… the last one. Just in case,” he admits, eyes on yours, and the moment feels heavy. Do you trust Yoongi to tell you the truth?

Of course you do.

“I’m okay if you’re okay,” you tell him. “No pressure.”

“You’re still on -?” he checks, and you nod.

“In that case,” he says, and leans over you to kiss you again. You can feel him, rubbing along the messy slickness, and it occurs to you that you haven’t even touched him yet.

You whine, twisting your shoulders to try and reach him with a hand, but he’s too impatient, lining himself up and starting to sink into you. You groan at the stretch - it’s been a while since your last fling - but the sound that tears through Yoongi’s throat is more like a growl, guttural and animalistic.

“Fuck, you’re so tight,” he growls through gritted teeth, as he slowly rocks into you until he bottoms out, his hips tight against yours.

He’s everywhere - caging you in, hovering above you, holding you down, filling you up. He’s everywhere, and he feels both so familiar it makes you want to cry again, and also - somehow - brand-fucking-new, like you’ve never felt him before.

You can feel every ridge of him, every twitch, as he sets a slow but even pace, letting you adjust.

“God,” you gasp when he hits a spot just right. His head had been hanging above you, his eyes watching the place where he disappeared inside you, all that long hair loose, but he smirks up at you at this.

“Good,” he coos, and picks up the pace, hips smacking yours, filling the room with the lewd sounds of skin on skin, his grunts and your whines.

You’re gasping a little at each stroke, that tight feeling bubbling at the pit of your stomach growing stronger with each thrust. “God,” you growl, fingertips pressing into his shoulder blade as you hang on for dear life. “Yoongi, fuck!”

He slows on purpose, straightening up, forcing you to release your hold on his back. He grins at you, that shit-eating, one-sided grin, and then grabs your ankles, maneuvering them both to rest against his right shoulder. He leans forward against your legs and hammers into you, breathing hard, and you swear to god you see stars for a second.

“Ohmygod, yes, there,” you gasp, hands going to the backs of your own thighs to help alleviate the stretch. You need to start doing yoga or something.

The build-up is slower this time, the feeling pulsing through you in waves that strengthen and ebb again. Yoongi can tell when it’s real by the change in your voice - wordless whines rising in pitch, by the arch of your back, by the way you clamp around him so hard that he almost loses it right there.

“Yeah?” he asks, the word more like a gasp for air. “Close?”

“Please,” you beg, the sensation of pure light racing up your legs to your toes, the pulsing starting slow and determined in your core.

“I’ve got you,” he promises, brows furrowed with concentration as he works to keep a steady pace. He grips one of your ankles and switches it to his other shoulder, creating space to reach down and rub gentle figure-eights around your clit.

The wave takes you over, and there’s a long moment where you’re completely devoid of your senses - no sight, no sound, nothing but how tight tight tight everything has gone, too tight to even breathe - and then it breaks and you can hear yourself wailing, eyes shut against the onslaught of sensations. You clench around Yoongi hard, the aftershocks rolling through you, so hard that he hisses and drops his forehead to yours, his pace slowing significantly as he fucks you through it.

You go boneless as it leaves you, and Yoongi pushes all the way inside you and stills, pressing his lips to your temple.

“You good?” he murmurs, so sweet for someone who just had you experiencing the multiverse.

“Mhm,” you manage to respond, so spent and tired that you can barely form the word.

“C’mere,” he grunts, slipping out of you, and he grips the back of your neck, hauling you upright and falling backwards in the same motion, pulling you over top of him. You loop your arms around his neck, feeling floaty, and he wraps his around your middle. You bury your face in the crook of his neck, his breath loud next to your ear.

“Can you keep going?” he checks. “I know you’re tired. I’m almost there, I promise.”

“M’good,” you assure him against his collarbone, and he gives you one quick squeeze before reaching down to adjust himself. He pushes in and you cry out, the sound muffled as you press your face into him. You’re so sensitive now, the sensation is entirely different.

“You can take it,” he whispers, sliding a hand down your spine. Then, with a grunt of “shit,” he grabs you and jackhammers up into you, his fingers furrowing into the meat of your ass, so tight you think you’ll have five little bruises on each side when this is over.

You feel so close to him - your cheek presses up against his, your arms wrapped tight around him, his hands securing you in place, his heart beating wildly against yours where your chests press together.

You gasp for breath into the crook of his neck, holding on for dear life, just trying to take what he gives you. You can hear his breathing change as he gets close, his pace quickening but his thrusts starting to come less evenly, his grip on your ass tightening just a bit further as he pulls your hips down to meet his every few thrusts.

“Is inside okay?” he asks, the words sounding like they’re torn from him.

“Yes,” you tell him, but it comes out more like a moan.

“God,” he grunts in response to this, and the word tears, ending on a strangled moan as he empties himself deep inside you.

You lay there, gasping for breath, for a long minute. Then Yoongi gives you an affectionate pat on the ass, indicating that it’s safe to move.

“Go get in the shower,” he suggests. “I’ll grab you a towel and meet you in there.”

“I don’t know if I can get there,” you say, joking, but your legs feel like jelly. You grab your phone and make your way, wobbly, through the living room and into his bedroom.

You hadn’t come in here before. It’s clean, but sparse. It’s devoid of anything that makes it feel homey. It’s devoid of anything that makes it feel like Yoongi.

You keep going, padding through his room and towards the attached bathroom, fumbling for the lightswitch. You place your phone next to the sink and fiddle with the shower’s knobs until you get a steady stream of hot water going.

It feels heavenly to step under the hot water, your aching muscles relaxing in the steam. But it feels even better when Yoongi wraps his arms around you from behind, pressing his lips to the side of your neck.

“Hi,” he murmurs.

“Hi,” you giggle. You might still be riding a little bit of a post-orgasm high.

You both rinse off in silence, and then Yoongi places his hand on the knob, looking at you to make sure you’re ready to get out. You nod, but he hesitates.

“Will you sleep with me?” he asks, a little unsure, leagues different from the cocky man you’d been tangled up with mere minutes before. “Don’t go back to the couch.”

You give him a soft smile, and he turns off the water, reaching for the towels hanging just outside.

“Of course I will,” you tell him before wrapping yourself up in the soft, gray terry-cloth.

You crawl into his bed once you’re dry, and he joins you after making a quick pass through the living room to turn the lights back off and gather up the clothes you’d both tossed around. When he clicks off his bedside lamp and rolls to face you, you feel a fluttering of nerves in your stomach.

You’re not sure where you go from here.

You lay facing each other in the darkness; it’s just too dark to really see much, but you can tell he’s looking at you.

You’re laying there, letting your thoughts spool around you, the what-if’s and what-now’s laying themselves out in your mind, when you realize you’ve reached out without meaning to, your fingers tangling in his long hair, rolling strands between them. You keep playing with it, cautiously, practically holding your breath, waiting to see if he objects.

Instead, you feel him relax under your hand, letting out a long breath. “That feels nice,” he admits, voice breathy with almost-sleep and barely audible.

You fall asleep without any answers, with your fingers curled up in Yoongi’s hair.

You wake up to a warm body behind you, not quite touching. You shift your cold toes a little closer to the warmth you find, smiling when you hear him whine about it. The light outside is white, that abnormal shade of light that comes from sunlight bouncing off of snow and ice. You’re about to close your eyes again when you realize that the warm body behind you isn’t sleeping, because you can hear the incriminating clicking and clacking of a keyboard.

“Are you seriously working right now?” you ask him, rolling a little to look at him over your shoulder. He peers back at you guiltily, his glasses low on his nose, fingers frozen in the air above the keys.

“I just wanted to answer a few -”

“It’s Christmas morning!” you scold.

“I’m aware of that,” he answers dryly.

You narrow your eyes at him. “Turn it off, Yoongi. It’s Christmas and you are in bed with someone. My God.”

He shoots you a defensive look, but finishes whatever he was doing and clicks the laptop closed, leaning over to place it on his nightstand.

“You haven’t changed at all,” you say, a little fondly, sitting up a little next to him.

“Neither have you,” he says pointedly. It’s less fond when he says it.

You consider this. “You want to know something stupid?” you ask. Yoongi doesn’t answer out loud, just meets your eyes and waits. “You’re right. I haven’t changed. I think… I think I’ve been afraid to.”

He turns to face you, sensing how serious you are about this. “What do you mean?” he presses.

You stop to think, the way you learned to after spending years watching him, knowing he did this better than you. “I guess… some little part of me always wondered what would happen if we crossed paths again. If I changed too much… what if I stopped being someone you’d want? What if I became someone so different that your heart didn’t know mine anymore?”

It sounds so corny coming out of your mouth, but the truth behind it is so heavy you can’t hold it up anymore. It was a fear you’d secretly harbored for half a decade - what if fate put Yoongi in your life again, and he still didn’t want you?

And Yoongi does what he’s always done - hears you, understands you, answers you in your own language.

“Impossible,” he says softly, leaning closer to you, eyes combing your face. His voice is like a layer of snow, smooth and clear, full of something unnamable. Or maybe you don’t want to name it. You turn your head, as if that will get you further away. “That’s impossible. My heart will always know yours.”

You look at your hands, feeling a little choked up. Your heart stutters and jumps in your chest. The question you’re holding back churns in a little ball behind your ribs.

“Hey,” he says, softly but intently. You manage to look up at him. “Let’s make breakfast?” He says it like a question.

“Yeah,” you say, able to speak again. “That sounds good.”

Yoongi lends you sweatpants, since it’s too chilly to roam around the house in basketball shorts, and busies himself in the kitchen while you get changed. When you finally join him, he’s plated something for each of you, and he pushes a glass of iced coffee towards you.

You can’t help but smile. “You remember,” you accuse, and he avoids your eyes, cheeks flushing.

“You get a girl ninety-thousand iced coffees, it stays with you,” he defends.

“Ninety-thousand,” you scoff, but you’re pleased. As you eat, you look out the kitchen window. It’s bright outside, but it’s still snowing - tiny, wispy flakes floating leisurely down to join you. The road clearly hasn’t been plowed yet; the snow outside is untouched, unbothered, a perfect sheet of white. You can’t even tell where the road is, except for the mailbox poking up out of the feet of snow on the ground already.

Yoongi follows your gaze. “Looks like you’re trapped here for a while,” he observes.

“A shame,” you deadpan, and he kicks at you playfully beneath the table.

“Well,” he says, thinking out loud, “since you won’t let me get any work done… do you want to put on a movie?”

“A Christmas movie?” you ask, perking up.

He rolls his eyes, but he’s fighting a little smile. “I guess that’d make sense,” he agrees.

He leads you back to the couch, which you eye sideways, remembering clearly what this couch witnessed about three hours ago. Yoongi seems unphased, slouching sideways against some pillows and looking at you expectantly. You join him gingerly, leaning against him, and he drapes a blanket over your legs.

“Pick something,” he asks, passing you the remote - another old Yoongi trick that you remember well.

You take the offered remote, clicking through the holiday options for something that you don’t think will make Yoongi gag. As you scroll, brows furrowed in concentration, he clears his throat beside you.

“So, uh,” he says, and you stop scrolling, because he sounds nervous. “Next weekend I’m supposed to go look at some apartments. Do you… would you want to keep me company?”

You look at him, eyes wide, the remote forgotten in your hand, still aloft and pointed at the tv.

“Why?” you whisper once you find your voice.

He shrugs, wets his lips. “You know the city well,” he says. “You can offer your brilliant opinions - tell me if the neighborhood’s okay… if there’s good take-away… where the transit stops are, that kind of shit.”

“Hm,” you say, a little tightly.

He shoots you a sheepish grin. “I’ll take you to dinner after?”

You give him a look. “Say what you mean, Yoongi.”

He purses his lips a little, disgruntled at being called out. Then, busted, he sighs and tries again. “Can I take you to dinner next weekend? Preferably in the city, and preferably after you help me make some choices about my living situation?”

You grin, unable to hold it back. “Yeah,” you say, trying hard to fight back the smile, to play it even a little bit cool. “Yeah, I’d really like that.” Trying to save your dignity, you turn back to the tv and go back to scrolling until you find a movie that seems like it’s not too over-the-top.

Yoongi reaches an arm around your shoulders, and this time you settle against him comfortably. You can feel him breathing beneath you, can smell that Yoongi smell - clean and alluring, can hear the shouts of some neighborhood kids running around outside. From the tv, tinkling bells and happy strings play a medley of Christmas songs as the opening credits run.

Part of you is already thinking about when the roads are plowed and you have to go home, shower off the scent of him, update your best friend about all of this, miss Yoongi in a much more real way than you’ve had to in about three years. But at least you have the promise that you’ll see him again next weekend. You close your eyes, content, happy to just be right now.

Yoongi feels it too, obviously. He gives your shoulders a squeeze, looks down at you fondly, and murmurs, “You know what? All this holly, jolly shit isn’t so bad.”

“God bless us, every one,” you deadpan. “It’s a Christmas miracle.”

He grins at you, gums showing, and you smile back before leaning your head against his chest as on the TV a little girl watches out her window for signs of Santa.

Thank you so much for reading, I hope you enjoyed!!! My full masterlist can be found here :)

#:')#thank you for 1k!

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