#yoongi writings

[hisunshiine]

—immortal lust |myg|

🧛🏻 pairing: vampire!yoongi x vampire hunter!reader  🧛🏻 au/genre: vampire au, e2l, angst, smut  🧛🏻 rating: M  🧛🏻 wc: 8,783 🧛🏻 warnings: mentions of parent death (off-screen). creepy themes associated with graveyards, vampires, and vampire hunting. explicit smut: fingering, unprotected vaginal sex, voyeurism, exhibitionism, implied bdsm, implied orgy, biting, blood drinking (vamps, duh!), use of blood for lubrication (again, vamps!) 🧛🏻 an: thank you to my beta readers @downbad4yoongi and @lo1k-diamonds and @mrsparkjimin18. I know this ws rough at first, but I think it became a very enjoyable piece of literature in the end. @colormepurplex2, thank you for the prompt to write, and congrats on earning the most points for the network in the semi-annual tally! You earned it! 🧛🏻 summary: In the shadows of a world where the supernatural breathes just beneath the surface of the mundane, you are a skilled vampire slayer from a revered family harboring a secret desire that contradicts your very existence. 

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This story is written for @colormepurplex2 as her gift for being the top leading point earner for our network, @bangtanwritershq and for our Quarter 2 event: Seven Deadly Sins

ᥫ᭡ AU Type: Lust — Vampire AU ᥫ᭡ Themes: Enemies 2 Lovers & Forbidden Desires ᥫ᭡ Inclusions: Bargains & Contracts, Confessions and Secrets, Explicit Sexual Content, Blood & Violence 

masterlist ❁ ao3

24 Years Ago

“Why are you crying, Uncle Sol?” Eight-year-old you stands in the darkened doorway of the study, bleary eyes struggling to take in the scene in front of you.

Soleil Belmont sits in the overly stuffed, brown leather armchair in front of the fireplace. Your uncle by choice, thanks to the life-long friendship between him and your mother, Valkyrie Blake, is how he came to be in your life. The hands that cover his damp eyes wipe furiously at his cheeks, as if to hide the evidence of his tears from your sight. You didn’t even notice how he looked—the mud caked on his boots, the tattered look of his shirt under his leather jacket, the small cut by his hairline or the bruises starting to appear along his face. 

“Come here, sweetie,” he asks, voice breaking as you walk in your thin nightgown across the wood floors, feet making quiet sounds with every step you take closer to him. Once within his reach, he places a clammy hand on your shoulder.  

“There’s been an accident.”

The funeral itself was one of the worst days of your life, watching the twin caskets of your parents lower into the rectangular cutouts in the  earth. The gleaming black lacquered wood was polished to perfection, only to be marred by the small handful of dirt you’d thrown before begging to be taken away from the graveyard, away from the scent of death and decay. 

That day is when you decide you never want to experience death. You never want to be so badly injured in a car accident that your family has to have a closed casket. That you’d never see your child grow up, and leave her abandoned in this world. You hate that death is the inevitable end to life, and that fear leads you down the path you’re on now.

You - Present Day

The dream begins much like all of the other ones you’ve had as of late. You’re in an old cemetery—gothic gravestones coated in thick moss with flora obscuring the names and dates of the not-so-recently deceased. Large tombs with crumbling marble and ivy-covered wrought-iron fences, the overgrown oaks with Spanish moss reaching eerily towards your figure in the shadows from the waxing crescent moon. The dirt beneath your feet feels malleable as you step quietly past the final resting places of all of the former slayers. You’ve traversed these grounds before, more than several times in your adult life, as you’ve learned about your family, the work that they did—that you are supposed to continue—and can name all of the family lines that take their final rest here. 

An eerie fog begins to rise from the ground, permeating the air until it covers your boots and ankles, weaving its way along the marble and stone placards, hiding the Lord’s Prayer epitaphs and angelic motifs from sight. A shiver raises the hair along your arms and the back of your neck and you sense him. He’s here, watching you with his luminous eyes and heightened, immortal beauty. You know he can hear the way your heart thrums in your chest, can smell the prickles of adrenaline that drip from the sweat at your hairline, and possibly the arousal as it seeps through your panties.

You attempt to refocus your thoughts away from the nervous energy, standing still.  You wonder if he believes that you are doing this so as to not trip or step on dead wood littering the ground to make too much sound. You know it wouldn’t matter. Quiet as a mouse or trampling like an elephant would make no difference to this being. He is well over three centuries old, exact years he has been alive though are not documented anywhere. No one has lived after a close encounter with him to document his life pre-turning, according to the various journals and tomes housed in the slayer library. 

All you know for certain is that the earliest records of the vampire known only as ‘Yoongi’ appear in the late 17th century, identify his maker as ‘Namjoon’, and his three known fledglings as ‘Heizi’, ‘Taehyung’, and ‘Hoseok’. Only one of his creations is dead—the one who killed your parents. A loud crack of lightning whips your head to the left, the flash revealing the amber backlit eyes embedded in the dark silhouette of the famed vampire crouched on the edge of the cremation tomb several yards away. Your amygdala reacts, heart rate spiking as he moves faster than you can capture—one second he’s atop the Van Helsing columbarium, the next he’s standing in front of you, strong hands clamped to your arms holding you tight, keeping you from moving. Your small but deadly sharp stake is rendered useless by your side.

There’s no time to scream, no time to do anything but hear the rush of blood through your veins as his mouth grows from a smirk to a downright smile, fangs glowing from the reflection of moonlight.

“You made it too easy, kitten,” he purrs, bringing his face closer to yours before dipping his face into your neck. He takes a deep breath, inhaling your scent as he scrapes the tips of his pointed teeth across the sensitive skin of your neck. “And to think you were able to kill Heize. I must do better at training my progeny. Oh well, another slayer to add to the crypt. You didn’t even last two minutes.”

Squirming in his grip, you try to disengage his clenched fists from your arms as his mouth descends to your thrumming artery. You wake with a gasp, hands flying to your neck to check for puncture wounds. 

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Down in the gym at the bottom floor of your house—if you can call it that—you push your muscles to their extent, fists flying into the punching bag. You whip around, grabbing the thin bladed stake from the side pocket of your athletic leggings and plunge it into the second bag made for staking. 

With a deep breath, you step onto the bag to pull your weapon loose, watching small bits of fluff flutter to the mat beneath you. Wiping the sweat from your brow, you check the time on the clock, noting it’s near lunchtime. Sheathing your weapon, you head up the staircase to sunlight. 

On the ground floor, your eyes easily slide past the neoclassical designs along the hallway, high ceilings with blank walls, and columns lining the open floor plan with large arched floor-to-ceiling windows. The protein shake you prepared earlier sits on the top shelf in the fridge, and you grab it along with the jelly to make yourself a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. You’ve just finished when Soleil Belmont walks into the kitchen, a gentle squeeze to your shoulder as he bypasses you to the fridge.

“Can we talk?” he asks you, but you don’t want to argue with him, not when tonight could be the last time you ever talk to him. 

“Sol, I have to do this. You can’t change my mind about this. He sired the vampire that killed my mom and dad. He’s killed countless people for sport, leaving behind orphaned children like me.” You hope the finality in your tone will keep him from prying or asking more questions. 

It works.

“I love you. And I won’t try to change your mind. You’re much like your mother, stubborn to the very end.” Your mother’s best friend and your legal guardian until you turned 18 joins you at the table with a bowl of grapes, a look of acceptance in his eyes. “You know, if anything happens to you, I’m selling this house. It’s much too big for me and I’m getting older.”

Your eyes gaze across his features: the greying hair at the edges of his hairline, crow’s feet meeting the creases of his eyes, the weariness in the undereye circles and fine lines. He’s nearing 60, an age you don’t think you’ll live to see. An age your parents never got to be. At 32, you live on your family estate alone, with Soleil in the pool house you had renovated years ago as a Mother-in-Law suite once you turned 21 and gained your inheritance—and learned the truth about your parents’ death. 

Just as much as you probably could have lived without ever knowing the truth of your parents’ lives, and their demise, you didn’t need all the space he was trying to give you, but he wanted to allow you the chance to be an adult, have a social life and you assume a sex life without having to hear it. You appreciated it in the moments you brought men back from the bar or campus library, but other times, it was just…lonely. 

As a Belmont, Soleil knew about vampires. His family is well known across Europe for their work in Romania slaying creatures of the night, and Soleil’s great-grandparents moved here in the early 1800’s to spread their knowledge to others to continue hunting as the new world grew and vampires spread to the new continent. This is how your families came to be friends and fight alongside each other. Until Heize killed three of the four hunters tasked with taking her out, leaving you and Sol as the only survivors of the Belmont’s and the Blake’s. 

“I think you should. I only keep it because it has everything I need to train. I could practice in peace without worrying about people judging me for all of my weapons. Most people think it’s a little weird to have wooden stakes and crossbows when working out.”

Sol chuckles, making a joke about how between the gym being littered with staked bags and the UV lights that line the entire property at night, people would be confused when purchasing, but then the light leeches out of his eyes as he looks you over.

“Remember to keep your wits about you, okay? I never wanted kids because I knew that hunters' lives never end happily, and when I lost…we lost your parents and my fiancee, I wouldn’t have had a reason to keep living if it weren’t for you.”

You decide now is best to give him the ticket and the envelope.

“Sol, I think…I think it’s best for you to go away on a trip. I think I’ll be able to focus better knowing you are out of harm’s way if you leave.” You slide the ticket across the table towards him, the envelope underneath it. “It’s a one-way ticket to Paris and enough money to be comfortable for as long as you want.”

“You don’t think you’ll survive this, do you?” Sol asks, eyes searching yours for clues, but you remain steadfast.

“Don’t worry about me, Sol,” you say and he makes to interrupt you, but you don’t let him, dealing the killing blow. “I’m not your daughter, so you don’t have to stick around anymore. Go live your life. I want you to go and live your life.”

The hurt in Sol’s eyes is visible, but your plan works. His hand reaches out to grasp the ticket, leaving the envelope of money where it’s at. 

“I don’t need Blake money; the Belmont’s have enough of their own.” He takes a moment to pause, eyes locking back all emotions as he stands. “I’ll pack and leave town. Don’t be distracted.”

Soleil walks to the hallway, turning back just once. “Goodbye.”

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The past 11 years seem to be coming to a head. You’ve spent all of your time after graduating from college training for today. Ever since you learned the truth of how your parents and Sol’s fiancee died, you’ve been plotting for this moment. 

As a member of the famed Blake family, vampire hunting is in your blood. As a child, you obsessed over vampires because of the ability to avoid dying, and as an adult, that obsession helped you with your training. You knew more about vampires than one would expect having been brought into the fold so late, but you put your head down and studied more, learning all you could from previous journals and occult texts to gain insight into the vampires with ties to the one called Min Yoongi. 

Several years ago you went out to avenge your parents, trapping Heize in a classic bait-and-switch. You didn’t think it would be so easy since she was estimated to be around 200 years, but she fell for it simply because Soleil was the only one she didn’t kill, and in her blood haze, she underestimated you. A simple ‘accidental’ dropping of a message from Sol that said where to meet, coupled with thoughts that you and Sol made sure to keep in your head to continue the ruse allowed Heize to willingly walk into the decrepit mausoleum that was booby-trapped with the thinnest of steel wiring criss-crossing the doorway several yards inside with you and Sol on the other side. 

In her haste to grab Soleil, she blurred—her speed too fast to stop her from splicing herself into pieces and effectively decapitating herself was a pleasure to watch. Grabbing the blow torches stashed in the room, her body quickly lit up with flames licking the marble walls as you made your exit. 

It’s been over 5 years since then, and every second since has been spent planning for tonight. 

Min Yoongi - Present Day

Laying in the coffin in his home, Yoongi awaits dusk. His body is antsy for the moment the sun is below the horizon; even in his slumber, he knows that you are out there waiting. For him. He’s followed your movements since the death of his fledgling, Heize, watching to see how this novice of a hunter could have overpowered one of his chosen flock. Imagine his surprise when it turns out that it was you—the last remaining survivor of the Blake family who knew nothing of vampires true existence until you were an adult. 

But over time, he realized as novice as you were, you were skilled. Your lithe movements and ability to track his kind was a novel experience for him to observe. You took down creatures of the night in preparation for what you expressed to your guardian as training for taking out him. Yoongi laughs to himself. 

He admits you’re smart, the plan you laid out is a good one, but you forgot to block your mind from thoughts of the plan several times, which allowed Yoongi to plan his counterattack. In the light of the midday sun, even from outside of his home, he sensed you as you approached and left a note. He could hear your heartbeat, hear the rustle of the paper as you placed it through the mail slot of the front door.

His eyes shot open the moment the sun fell below the horizon. Yoongi hated that he was not yet able to avoid the forced slumber that overtook his kind when the sun rose, nor that he was not averse yet to the fatigue that set in beforehand, warning him of the lack of time remaining to the night. Elder vampires, of which he’s only met two who had lived over a thousand years, were almost immortal. The ability to walk in the sun and thus are not affected by the need to sleep when it rises. Yoongi envies them, but he plans to join them one day. 

He flits to the main hallway, hand reaching for the note and taking in your handwriting in seconds. 

I know what you are. I want to be one of you. Please meet me tonight and turn me, or I will tell everyone vampires exist. 

An address is scrawled at the bottom of the note, but he doesn’t need it. He can follow the heady scent of you to wherever you are. Even in sleep, he sensed when you drew near and his subconscious couldn’t help reading the thoughts that lay in your mind. You truly thought this ruse would work? Hell, it would’ve worked on Heize, or his other fledglings, had they not known who you were. There is fear to be had with mortals knowing of their existence; vulnerability lay in the moments that the sun is out, and a house fire could destroy a whole flock in minutes if their kind is not careful. Yoongi cursed their inability to wake while the sun was out, and now that he knows you know where he resides, he must find a new place to live out his days. 

A glance at the old grandfather clock in the hallway shows him that the sun is now well and truly gone, allowing him to slip through the entrance of the home and out onto the sidewalk. He takes a deep breath, searching for your scent through the others that encompass the air around him; the grass along the road, the burnt rubber of tires in traffic, the lingering warmth of the sun before its descent, and then the faint smell of jasmine flowers after a fresh rainfall. You. 

Blurring into motion, Yoongi travels several miles towards the city, slowing once other scents begin to emerge. Thin crust pizzas covered in meat and cheese, overflowing trash and body odor, and a desperation that covers the city’s nightlife with a humming buzz. The fading jasmine keeps him moving, though now at a human pace as he approaches what appears to be a dance studio. The sign above the door confirms as much, and he’s not surprised that the glass door is unlocked despite the red and white closed sign hanging at eye-level for passersby. 

The floral scent grows tenfold, as if Yoongi has stepped into what he assumes your bedroom would smell like. There is a strange undercurrent that he isn’t used to associating with you, but he assumes it’s just lingering from the studio. As he walks past the lobby area, the shadows of the fake potted plants and the empty chairs intrigue him. Why you chose this place is beyond his comprehension, as a dance studio such as this one, owned by the Blake family—your family—for years, is in the middle of the city and one of the few places not related to the hidden career path of hunting. Unless you count using dance as a way to build agility for fighting those who cannot die, well at least not die easily. 

Yoongi’s cockiness as he meanders closer to the hallway towards the various dance rooms leaves him caught off guard when the sound of whirring behind him causes him to move unnaturally before going eerily still. The slightest misstep is only noticed by Yoongi, whose barely beating heart seems to pick up minutely—not that anyone living or dead would be able to tell. He chuckles at your meager attempt to lock him in; a motorized grate lowering across the lobby door and windows. 

His strength could easily rip the grate off of its frame, but this little game you’re playing is just too good to walk away from without seeing what you’ve planned with his own eyes. It only pops into his thoughts once he’s walked through the back studio where your scent is the strongest, that the grate lowering was not part of the plans his Mind Gift overheard from you. 

So it’s only to his own surprise when the undercurrent rises to an overwhelming level and he realizes what his hubris blocked out. The mirrored room before him is splashed floor to ceiling with blood. 

You - Present Day

With the scent of your blood so overwhelming to the centuries-old vampire, you watch from the corner of the room as he drifts towards the mirrors and closer to where you need him to be. Your fingertips itch on the small switchboard you hold, ready for your plan to unfold. He looks almost dazed, eyes unfocused as his fangs poke his bottom lip. He looks so different, from the way the journals make him out to be, in person he’s much more attractive, and you have to really focus to make sure you don’t miss your mark. 

When Yoongi enters the area you’ve marked off with tape, you release your hold on the button that allows two things to happen simultaneously: a set of low UV flashbang grenades are set off, the mirrored walls reflecting the blinding light with a cacophony of sounds to drown out any thoughts he might try to detect, and a 4x4 cage made of the thinnest wire springs into place trapping him within its confines. 

You watch him through your military-grade glasses, the lenses preventing the bright lights from disorienting you as his brilliant eyes shut against the danger they sense. He is a few centuries old, and you know that despite the direct hit of the UV light, which only lasts for a split second, the slight damage dealt to his skin heals seconds later. 

But your aim wasn’t to kill him. He laughs, a loud bellyful that sounds almost joyous until you flip the second switch, which sets the alkali metal aflame. His laugh is silenced almost immediately, a growl rumbling lowly in his throat. 

“What game are you playing at, little mortal?” His voice carries an edge, and you shiver with delight. You’re sure that it’s never been this easy to capture a vampire that is several centuries old, but sometimes the best laid plans are the most simple. You step forward from the corner you were in, no longer hidden as the flames light the room and you pull off the tinted lenses.

“I’m not playing any games at all.”

He glares at you, the slits of his eyes glowing an intense amber shade—an enhancement to what you predict were originally beautiful brown eyes—and you bravely take a step closer. 

“Then what, praytell, would you call this,” his hand waves gingerly towards the room around him, “smoke and mirrors set up you have me in?”

“I…I want to experience being bitten.”

This time, the vampire does laugh fully, his head thrown back exposing his fangs and the long lines of his neck from his sharp jaw. His milky white collar bones are barely exposed in his black, button-down, long-sleeved shirt.

“No hunter,” he spits the word as if spitting a foul taste from his mouth, “would willingly subject themselves to a bite, to risk becoming that which they hunt.” 

“I would.” Your answer rings with sincerity, at least to your own ears, and you hope that the vampire can see the longing in your eyes.

“What reason would I have to give in to this request? The promise that you’ll let me out of here before daylight comes to burn me into ash? That you’ll let me out of this fire prison you’ve created? Do I look like a fool, mortal?”

“I think you’re desperate enough to make sure tonight is not your last night on Earth, and you should know that you hold all of the cards.” You take a deep breath before sharing your deepest secret with the immortal being before you, your voice rushing with a frenzied speed. “I only learned of your existence once I was an adult. Before that, I prayed to whatever gods would listen to find a way to avoid the inevitable—to escape death. You know I grew up without parents, right?” 

Yoongi only stared at you, glowing embers following your every move.

“Of course you know. I killed your progeny for their murder once I knew the truth.”

He hissed at you then, fangs extended fully as his eyes deepened with rage. He looked as if he had half a mind to grip the flame-laden cage and come after you, but held back—barely. You wait, quietly assessing him as he reins in his anger, chest no longer rising and falling in unbidden anger.

“That was a death that I deserved, and your anger will not sway how I feel about it. But it also doesn’t change what I am requesting of you. I want you to bite me.”

Min Yoongi - Present Day

Min Yoongi doesn’t believe the predicament he’s currently in. A fool! He curses himself. A damned fool to walk right into the trap you laid out for him.

The flames entrapping his body are low, but still, the heat has him on edge. His search of your mind as you speak shows no pretense, but he remembers how easily you fooled him with your thoughts just earlier today. The scent of your blood sang to him, luring him deeper into the dance studio until his mind couldn’t handle the amount; it overwhelmed him just long enough for you to pounce. 

Now that the flames have had time to thrive, the smell of burning metal drowns out the worst of your scent, and he asks you questions to buy himself time to think. But he can’t understand you fully. Your actions and words do not align with what he knows of hunters, of what he knows of you from afar. To hear you earnestly wish for him to bite you, despite knowing how hard you trained to kill his fledgling, contradicts everything he thinks he knows about the prominent hunting families. 

And still, your request piques his interest. The calmness of your body belies no deceit, no racing heart or skittered words as you barter with him as if discussing what to have for breakfast with a partner. And he’s studied your body, unbeknownst to you. He’s watched as you brought home men to fuck, heard the way your body reacted to their attempts at pleasure, the way your nervous system changed when you lied about seeing them again. Has smelled your jasmine scent and can’t lie that he’s wanted a taste…if only to then rip your pretty throat out.

He realizes in that moment that you do not know fully and truly what it is you are asking for. There are mysteries yet hidden from the mortal world about vampires, about their bite and the effect it has on the living when not immediately drained. 

Yoongi grins, finally deciding to answer your request after long moments of thought. 

“I accept your demands, hunter. I shall bite you in exchange for sparing my life.”  

You - Present Day

Your heart beats loudly in your ears as you walk away from his gaze to shut the door to the dance studio. You take a few deep breaths before turning around to walk back towards the switchboard, where you activate another switch. 

A low hum reminiscent of fluorescent lights quietly fills the quiet of the room, to which Yoongi questions. 

“Another precaution?”

You glance at him over your shoulder with a smirk.

“Just my way of making sure that you stick to your end of the bargain. Should you harm me against my will, I have a way to activate those lights lining the room, which are high-powered UV lights, and not just the ones that last for a second.” You look back at the switchboard, finger searching for the one to shut off the fire and disengage the cage. “The only way out of here safely is with my blessing.”

“Afraid of me, hunter?” His query has you pause your movements.

“Afraid of you? No. You’re my best bet at getting what I want.”

Facing the vampire, you maintain eye contact as you grip the hemline of your shirt, pulling it up and over your head in as fluid a motion as you can to leave you in just a simple underwire t-shirt bra and your denim jeans—you assume his bite will still be messy, and walking out of here covered in blood seems like a sure way to attract police attention. Again, you see Yoongi take on that supernatural stillness that only creatures of the night can achieve. His eyes are like focused lasers on your body, and you feel a thrill as you reach behind you to release him. 

With unnatural speed, he blurs into your space, forcing you back towards the wall—a cold hand on your exposed hip and the other leaving a dent as it braces against the wall by your ear. 

“Any of my kind could’ve given you what you wanted. It need not be me,” he murmurs as his nose trails along your jawline seductively. But in the next moment, his fingers tighten into your skin as he growls. “So why strip and offer yourself to me?” 

You squirm in his grip, a sense of deja vu taking over as you remember the dream you had a couple of nights ago. “Because,” you gasp out, “you’re the oldest vampire I know in existence. Newer vampires have no control, killing almost immediately.” You arch in an attempt to create space off of the wall—you hate the way you feel trapped. You question whether you should have trusted your instincts about Yoongi. 

“Flattery will get you nowhere. Why would a hunter want to be bitten?” His hand leaves the wall to grab your chin. A chill sweeps down your body from the points of contact, sending goosebumps along your exposed skin. His eyes flash a luminous amber. “Tell the truth.”

Your mind feels hazy from his command, almost as if you’ve stepped outside of yourself to watch your mouth open. “I’ve always been fascinated by vampires,” your voice sounds dreamy, a wistful look upon your face, “ever since my parents died. I want to escape that fate, I want to master death.”

A low hum from Yoongi helps break the spell as his eyes ever so carefully appear to peel back the layers until he sees through to the real you. The little girl who cried at her parents funeral and vowed never to meet her maker. You sense when he makes his decision, his eyes growing lighter and his hand tilts your head to the side.

“There is much you do not know, and you know not truly what you ask for.” He inhales a breath he doesn’t need, and his voice changes, a different tone taking over. “But your body reacts—it longs for this, does it not?” he teases. “I can smell your lust, your desire.” He presses his body to yours, firm planes and muscle meeting your softer curves. You feel the closeness of his lips as they graze across yours.

A small whimper escapes your mouth. “Please,” you softly beg so your lips caress.

Yoongi’s tongue slips between your teeth in a kiss of seduction. There is no rush to his movements, only a controlled, steady pace as he meets your tongue with his. You feel his teeth prick your lip as his hand moves to cup the back of your neck, pulling you closer. There’s no sound, except for the hum of the device and your heavy breathing. Yoongi doesn’t need to breathe. 

You gasp for air when he trails featherlight kisses along your carotid artery, his hand sliding along your side and over your covered chest and onto your shoulder. Once there, he pushes your bra strap down and removes the fabric covering your breast, freeing it from the holster. His thumb circles the peak of your breast, taught from the friction. He must be enjoying the way he’s building the tension in your body, and you wonder if humans taste better to vampires when they’re aroused. 

You don’t get a chance to ask. The insertion of his fangs into your neck is nothing like your dreams. The prickle of pain as they lance open your skin fades almost instantly when you feel the first pull of your blood through your veins and into his mouth. 

You gasp, astonished as the euphoric feeling settles over you like a warm blanket and Yoongi’s arms wrap around you as he drinks from you in deep swallows. He’s taken in a few mouthfuls before he pulls away with a shudder that shakes his whole being. 

“Divine,” he whispers, blood trailing along the sides of his chin as his hands move to fully free you of your bra, then trail along your curves. The contact is exquisite, the coolness of his hands doing wonders for the flames licking underneath your skin. 

“More, touch me more, please,” you sigh, wanting nothing more than the creature who holds you in his arms. The feeling of him seems to burrow under your skin to the very depths of your soul as if he’s leaving a permanent stamp embedded. 

His deft fingers cup your breast, causing you to moan with barely any movement. “Not enough!” you whine, uncaring at your petulance. Yoongi chuckles at you. 

“Where do you want me to touch you, kitten? How do you want me to touch you? Under your jeans? Gentle or rough? Perhaps you want much more than that?”

You blink coquettishly, nodding yes and begging him to take more of your blood from you. Your hands reach for him, fingertips pulling at the edge of his clothes as if to free him of them. You’re rewarded with his alabaster skin, the light dusting of hair below his navel leading into the very pants your fingers fiddle with the button on. 

His tongue laps at your heaving chest, and you watch as he cleans away the blood that ran from the bite he left. His fingers tug at your nipples, and you give up tugging at his pants as the sensation causes your head to fall back in a breathy whine. Your fingers have worked efficiently enough though—his pants fall to the floor and he kicks them aside to join the growing pile of clothes, and you add your jeans next in haste. 

Another mewling sound leaves you when his tongue toys with your pert nipple, fangs scraping along the soft contours of your breast as he chases the last of your blood. When you feel your back hit a mirrored wall behind you, you welcome the cooling feel of the glass, though unsure of when you moved. Yoongi’s leg pries apart your thighs, hand dropping to the heat between as he presses against your still-clothed core in search of your clit. When his fingers push your panties aside and he begins to rub slippery circles against you, he chuckles lowly. 

“How wet you are, indeed, pet. Yes, I think you want much more than just my bite.”

In your own mind, you agree with his words. You want so much more than just his bite because you want all of him—his bite, his touch, his cock filling you over and over as you crest in shuddering waves of insurmountable pleasure—for all of eternity. His lips drag along your neck as he speaks, leaving small kisses between his sentences. His fingers dance along your slick opening, teasing but never broaching. Not in the ways you want him to fill you. 

He hikes up one of your legs so that it rests on his forearm, opening you up to him and at the same time that he plunges his fingers into you, he returns his mouth to your skin, placing a bite in the swell of your breast and drinking deeply. Your body thrums, blood pulsing slower to be in sync with Yoongi’s at every swallow of your life force. 

You’ve never felt this way—no one has ever finger fucked you like this, and through the roaring of your blood in your veins, you distantly hear your own voice begging him for more. The heel of his hand makes contact with your clit, and you keen when he holds the position, fingers deep inside you to rub against the spongy patch of nerves as his wrist makes circular movements to stimulate your clit. Your hands work at the buttons along his shirt, pulling with haste and faintly recognizing the ping of the buttons as they ricochet free. Shoving the cloth off his shoulders, you’re exposed to delicate collarbones, a lean torso with blush nipples and a toned chest that tapers into a narrow waist. A small smattering of unruly black hair leads a path down the center into the briefs low on his hips.

You see starbursts behind your eyes as you cum, hard, walls fluttering rapidly around his long fingers. The air in the room is thick with need, desire running so deeply in your veins that you feel lightheaded. All you want is more, more, more. It’s not enough that he bit you, not enough that he brought you to ecstasy with just his fingers. You crave everything he has to give you. As if not of your own volition, you rock against the fingers still inside you, hands reaching to pull Yoongi’s face back towards yours. 

Fingers twine with the hair at the nape of his neck, and with reckless abandon, you kiss him hard. The metallic taste of your blood mixes with a taste all his own and you relish the way the two mix into a delightful cocktail on your tongue. His fingers thrust shallowly into you as he slowly makes to remove them from your body. Your hips cant towards him, chasing the feeling until he drops your leg from his arm and you’re left empty and wanting. 

The hollowness he’s left you with makes you want to cry, but when you try to pull away from the kiss and complain, he chuckles against your lips. “Hush, kitten, we’re just getting started.”

It seems like an eternity that he’s abandoned your pleasure, but with his supernatural strength, it takes mere seconds for his hands to rip your panties from your body, rid himself of his remaining clothes, bend his knees for access to hook his elbows around the backs of your knees, and lift you up. Your back slams into the glass mirror, and you feel the way it shatters around your body, but you feel no pain. Not when the new position has your core exposed to him and his velvet, steel cock is positioned at your entrance, teasing you with what’s to come. 

The view of him between your thighs is amazing. Your eyes trail down his body, showing no shame as you rest them upon his cock, a blushing hue color fueled from your blood now pumping in his body. It’s erect, his lust for you is apparent as he flexes his hips. The tip sinks inside you with help from your first orgasm lubricating his entry, but he doesn’t let it get far before pulling back. He edges you with languid pumps, and you watch in anguish each time he retreats from your warmth. His cock glistens farther up each time he dips inside of you, and the unhinged, sex-craved and cock thirsty being inside you wants him covered in you, the smell of sex so overwhelming that people on the street can smell it. 

“Oh, yes, kitten, everyone will know all of the depraved and debaucherous things I’m going to do to you.” He thrusts in with one fluid movement, and you swear you feel him in your chest. The fullness his girth offers splits you open like you’ve never experienced before, while his length reaches deep inside you. 

A glance at Yoongi's face as he takes in your naked body proves that he too feels the snug way he fits inside of you, and is also expecting to see the bulge from the tip of his glorious cock pressing against your skin. A flash of disappointment when it doesn’t happen flits across his face, and you realize he was not joking about the depraved things he wants to do to you. 

A press of his palm to your lower abdomen has your mouth open in silent pleasure as his hips swirl delectably; the pressure provides the perfect grind of his flexing muscle against every part of you that squeezes him, and the sound as he slips through you just to thrust in again only makes your lust rage more. It’s sinful, everything about the way he’s fucking you roughly is. 

Gasping out sensual curses mixed with your name, Yoongi’s eyes flash an intense color, and as if reading your deepest thoughts, he pulls out of you and shifts away from the pane of shattered glass to one still intact. He flips you so that your breasts press to the mirrors. His fingers dig into your hips as he pulls them backward, his feet nudging your own apart. You brace yourself with your hands on the glass, breath leaving a hazy fog with each shuddering exhale of air as you find reprieve from the fire beneath your skin with a pressed cheek to the reflective wall. 

“Fuck…me…” you moan out the curse when he seats himself fully inside of you, his pelvis pressed tightly against your ass cheeks as he lets out a low, throaty growl. 

“I thought I was,” he replies smartly, but the shake to his voice shows how much restraint he’s showing. You press your ass into him as much as you can, rising onto your toes for leverage. Your eyes stare at his reflection behind you, watching as he curls his body around yours to lick at your earlobe. “I had plans of killing you, dreamt of the way I would torture you before I snapped this pretty little neck of yours, did you know?”

You didn’t know for certain, but you feel like all creatures of the night have the goal of killing humans one way or another, so it doesn’t really bother you. In fact, his words make you clench around him, because the way he’s worded it seems like these are no longer his plans. He confirms as much as his hips rock back and forth in a teasing rhythm that barely sates your needs for him. 

“I’ve decided that this pussy is just too good to go to waste, kitten.” His head drops into the crux of your neck, breathing deeply. “Your sweet blood calls to me, and will taste even more decadent when you cum around my cock,” his tongue swipes over your skin before his fangs burrow into you with such an all-consuming lust, you nearly sob with how good it feels. His hips begin a punishing pace as he wraps his arms around you, one hand going to hold your right breast as the other hand drops between your thighs. 

The pads of his first two fingertips slip around his thrusting cock, stimulating your weeping core before moving back up to strum along your clit, matching pace with each press inside of you. “You will make such a lovely creature, don’t you think? Cum for me, kitten, and I will make sure of it.” His words trigger a deep need inside you, words that soothe an ache you’ve carried since you were a child. 

Your orgasm bursts from you in an earth-shattering explosion, so heady and rippling that you fear you will black out from the strength of it. You barely feel when his teeth sink into you again. He takes a deep pull from your artery, and your high gives him exactly what you think he was searching for. It’s almost shameful the way he moans against your skin as he drinks you in, but you’re so lost to his thrall that it only makes your desire for him deeper. 

His thrusts stutter until he is no longer able to hold back, and he fills you as he rips his fangs from you. His head is thrown back as he growls through his ecstasy, and you blink slowly at his reflection, eyes tracing the veins in his neck now running red with your blood trailing from his mouth. 

With more restraint than you thought he had left, he turns to you and you feel a fog take over as he asks you a series of questions about getting out of this room safely. You answer them each methodically, as if you have no control over your words. 

You feel yourself growing more and more tired, watching every few seconds when your eyes decide to open again from each blink, bleary-eyed as Yoongi dismantles the failsafes you put in place should things go wrong. Your chest aches for him, wanting him closer to you, touching you, drinking from you. 

“Soon, 달달한 피.” He kneels before you, dressed once again, hiding his body from you. You hate it. “It’s time for us to go somewhere safe.”

He pulls you into his arms and you preen, if you could purr, your chest would be rumbling in the pleasure of the feel of him. Your head rests on his shoulder and you try to stay awake; some part of you wants to pay attention to where you’re going, but blood loss wins as you sink into a deep slumber. 

Yoongi - Several Days Later

Pain. 

Your body thrashes with pain as the blood you just consumed spreads throughout your system. The last few days after leaving the ballet studio and entering Yoongi’s…home, for lack of a better word, has been full of the most exquisite satisfaction your body has ever experienced. You told him as much each night since arriving.

He’s reveled in giving into his most debased fantasies, and your body is covered in the proof; bruises littering your skin, chafing around your wrists and ankles, blood staining the rug beneath his feet where he now stands, watching you. 

Yoongi hasn’t turned a mortal in almost 200 years—not since he turned the one you killed. You make a better replacement for her in many ways, he thinks. Your beauty, your mind, your 달달한 피, or sweet blood, which he can’t wait to taste once you’re resurrected. And because this is the longest he has gone since bestowing the Dark Gift upon a being, not to mention that he is closer to 400 years than he likes to admit, he is sure you will be powerful beyond belief. 

He heals his wrist and glances at the time; he chose to turn you at sunset so he had time to prepare before he needs to rest. The marble walls that surround the underground basement bedroom of Yoongi’s home echo with your sounds of pain, so Yoongi leaves you in the bed as he ventures towards another wing. He knows that when the sun sets again, you shall be ravenous, and he needs the help of his brothers to bring in enough sustenance for when you wake. 

His maker, Namjoon, lounges in his study with a beautiful woman straddling his hips. Her skin tone is darker than his, and their coloring makes a beautiful picture of caramel and chocolate swirls. She is draped over him, arms wrapped around Namjoon’s neck as she bucks her hips slowly against him, no doubt riding his cock now for several hours. Yoongi doesn’t hesitate to enter and approach him; he’s used to such displays.

Namjoon licks his lips as he pulls his mouth from her neck, and then smiles up at Yoongi from his couch. 

“Well done, enthralling the last of that hunter family. One less family we need to worry about.”

Yoongi focuses on Namjoon’s face, trying to ignore the whimpering moans from the woman getting off in front of him. It’s making his own cock stir, and he’s tempted to join in, but then he wouldn’t have time to gather the blood you need. He indulges for a few moments longer though, watching the way her supple breasts press against Namjoon’s firm chest as she kisses along his neck. 

“You can join, brother. Would you like her mouth or her ass?”

Yoongi shakes his head but continues to enjoy watching the beautiful woman as she rides his maker. He’s tented in his jeans, but that’s also a normal occurrence for all of the men living here, since you can always find someone having sex at any moment. 

“I wanted to let you know that I will be inviting a few mortals over. I plan to head out with the others and gather a few.”

Glee arises on Namjoon’s face. “You’ve given her your blood, brother? Oh, this is brilliant. Another one to add to our flock! We haven’t had anyone else in years.” He sighs out in content and then murmurs something into the woman’s ear which has her shuddering. He sinks his fangs into her to enjoy her orgasm before turning back to Yoongi. 

“I can’t wait to meet your newest fledgling, Yoongi. I must know though…will you be possessive or is she one we all can share?”

Yoongi smiles, his fangs poking into his bottom lip as he grins at his maker over the shoulder of the woman who is now leaning away, head thrown back as she bounces on Namjoon’s cock with a fierceness of someone chasing a fourth or fifth orgasm.

“I think she may be open to sharing, brother, she should awake tomorrow at sunset.”

Yoongi turns away with a chuckle as he heads to find any of the other five of their flock to accompany him to the bar.  

You - The Next Sunset      

It’s disorienting how clear everything looks to you. You gasp as a hunger you’ve never felt before takes you into its grip and takes over your mind. Lurching out of the bed you’ve been fucked in every which way since arriving, you clutch at your neck. The hunger burns. 

“Come here, kitten, I’ve got what you need right here.”

You turn to the voice, and a bright splash of scarlet comes into view. You don’t even think about it, you just bring it to your mouth and drink messily. You latch on and slurp down as much as you can, wanting every last drop to sate the intensity, but the voice tugs you away. You feel anger but then you’re given another warm mouthful of scarlet and indulge gluttonously. 

This time, when the voice calls to you, there is no anger, only a need to follow, to go to the voice and await more from it. From him. Yoongi. Your memories flood you all at once, a pulsing thrum as your pussy throbs now that the blood from the drowsy humans is in your veins, and you search for him. 

When you find him, you stumble up from your knees away from the bodies and throw yourself into his arms. You realize you’re still naked when he maneuvers your body so that your thighs are on either side of his, bulge from his jeans rubbing your core from the friction. Leaning into you he kisses you languidly, tongue cleaning up some of the mess you left behind before swirling with your tongue to share the taste of the humans in a kiss. 

Your hips grind against him, the kiss turning sexual in moments and Yoongi growls in response to your libido, now heightened after death. 

“Fuck,” he groans as you unzip his jeans and reverently pull his cock from his boxers, and using a combination of the blood dripping on your chest and your spit, begin to stroke him with firm movements.  

Moments later you return to your first position, straddling Yoongi as you sink onto him repeatedly, one hand gripping your ass and the other in your hair, keeping your mouth on his. 

‘Just like that, beautiful, he likes when his cock is buried deep inside a pretty girl.’

You gasp as you hear a melodic voice in your head, turning your head behind you to see six men watching you take Yoongi’s cock as his lips trail down your neck and chest.

You cock an eyebrow at the men, all so beautiful, you could cry at their jaw lines and angles, broad shoulders and dilated eyes. 

“Yoongi, I didn’t realize you liked an audience,” you tease as you slow your movements and put on a show, pushing Yoongi’s shoulders down to the mattress so that when your chests meet, the view of how well you take him, how well he splits you open as you sink down and envelop him to the hilt, is visible to all of them. 

“I like an audience, kitten, and sometimes I like when the audience joins in.” The look he’s giving you as you continue to ride him lets you know the question he’s asking you. 

“With this new immortal lust of mine, I think I’d like that too.”

Sealing your decision with a bite to Yoongi’s neck, you take a deep pull as you feel the bed dip with the weight of the others joining you for what you hope will be the height of immortal lust that will last an eternity.  

The END

달달한 피 (daldalhan pi)- “sweet blood”

↣ all rights reserved © hisunshiine 2024. please do not repost. translations & modifications are not allowed.

[hisunshiine]

Yall have no idea how good this story is for this haunted month of october. I absolutely love this story, it's so perfectly set up and the imagery is amazing!!! not gonna lie, if yoongi came to me like this, i honestly wouldn't even care, and this is from someone who is sometimes afraid of the dark...so all my girlies afraid of the dark, this one is for you! hehehe Please read Leah's amazing fic, you will not regret it!

Bump In The Night | MYG

▻ Bump In The Night ↳ Bogeyman!Yoongi x f.Reader ⤜ Horror/Thriller/Demon, Nyctophobia ⤜ Monster Under The Bed AU | angst, smut ⤜ Rating: MA ⤜ WC: 12,395 ⤜ Summary: The dark can be scary; full of strange, unseen things. Just when you think you’ve got a handle on your fear, the lights go out, and you face the reality that you were always right—you should fear the dark and especially what’s waiting in it. ⚠️ Crass language, fear, inciting fright, playing on emotions, teasing, kissing, fingering, biting/marking, dom tones, begging, choking, panic, unprotected v. sex, feeding on fear, dark thoughts, revealed dark intentions, predator/prey tones, chasing, claiming, serpentine tongue, oral f.receiving, monster cock/sex, metamorphosis

Written for the BTS Fantasy and Fangs Halloween collab for @minisugakoobies A/N: Sunny, I hope you enjoy this as much as I did while writing it. Happy belated birthday and hope you have a pleasant spooky holiday full of Bogeyman Yoongi delight!

A special thank you to @star-my @hisunshiine and @downbad4yoongi for their amazing beta services!

Can also be found on: Ao3 | Wattpad

Beg For It

Nyctophobia [ nik-tuh-foh-bee-uh ] - noun Psychiatry: extreme or irrational fear of the night or of darkness.

One…

Two…

Three…

Breathe. Another few seconds, that’s all you want; just precious moments to prove yourself.

Four…

Five…

Six…

Cold chills slither down your spine despite the hot water beating against your back. Your fingers work vigorously against your cheeks and along your forehead. What feels like a thousand pounds settles along your lashes, even though you know it’s nothing more than marshmallowy-light foam.

Seven…

Eight…

Nin—

You spin around, nearly losing your footing in the shower as you angle your face under the spray from the showerhead. The heels of your palms press against your lids as you try to rid them of the foamy facial cleanser.

Air wheezes into your lungs, stray drops of water sucking between your parted lips as you try to breathe against the panic building in your chest. Jerking back from the spray, you open your eyes, wincing at the sting from the water-mixed-with-cleanser that drips from your lashes and floods the corners.

Nothing. There’s nothing there. All you see is the steam-filled space of your shower, water pelting down at your feet, a smattering of bottles arranged on the lip of the tub, and the inside of your plain shower curtain.

You sigh, irritation itching in your chest. Not even nine seconds. You were trying for at least ten. It never fails to leave a bitter taste in your mouth whenever you can’t seem to get a grip on yourself. It’s just the dark. Hell, it’s not even really the dark. It’s just having your eyes closed against the bright fluorescent lights of your bathroom; a pseudo-darkness.

The unease in your stomach refuses to dissipate as you turn off the shower, step out, wrap yourself in a towel, and go through the routine of brushing your teeth and massaging moisturizer into your skin. You hang up your damp towel, quickly pulling on the oversized t-shirt and shorts you intend to sleep in.

Steam clouds the mirror. You don’t typically care to wipe it away, not anymore. It’s one of your small, personal victories—one you intentionally remind yourself of now after your panicked stint in the shower. It used to be that you couldn’t stand not being able to see the space behind you through the reflective surface. Knowing if something lurked outside your line of sight, it couldn’t hide from being exposed through the mirror. Being able to see behind you was all that mattered. Now, you take pride in not needing to see…yet, the niggling in the back of your head won’t cease. So, you swipe a hand, collecting tiny beads of moisture on your palm as you go.

You’re unsure why the act makes your heart beat a little harder. It’s supposed to elicit the calm you so desperately need. But, once you’ve slashed a clear path across the mirror, your brow furrows as you lean in closer to it. Cold dread thunders through your veins as you jerk back, spinning on your heel to make sure what you saw through the mirror wasn’t just your mind playing a trick on you.

Nope, not a trick or even a figment of your imagination…unfortunately.

You stare in paranoid disbelief at the slender gap along the bottom of the bathroom door. The door that leads into your bedroom where you are absolutely, without a doubt, positive you left your bedside lamp on. The gap is dark, like a void threatening to suck you right into an endless nightmare of unrelenting terror. All that’s missing is a gaunt, skeletal hand sliding its too-long fingers under the door.

Shoving away those intrusive thoughts before they can take root and further fester like a dirty wound on your sanity, you try to think logically. It’s possible the bulb in your lamp could have blown, but you know you replaced it just last month. It’s far too soon for it to blow on its own, and surely, it’s not a faulty bulb. So, why is it out? Were you careless and, in truth, didn’t turn it on? A manic laugh gets caught in your throat as you silently berate yourself. That must be it. You simply forgot. So careless.

Fear is an acrid taste on your tongue as you slowly approach the door. You hate this feeling. Even though you tell yourself there’s nothing out there lurking in the dark to harm you, you simply forgot to leave the light on. The distress doesn’t subside—and it won’t. At least, not until you open the door and prove the dark to harbor no ill intent toward you.

Squaring your shoulders and taking what is supposed to be a calming and fortifying breath, though it feels more like sand slipping into your lungs, you wrap your fingers firmly around the brushed nickel handle. The metal is warm, slightly wet from the condensation formed during your shower, against your palm as you twist it.

You lick your trembling lips, taking one more moment to center yourself. Your eyes slide closed as you mentally recall the layout of your room, calculating how many steps there are to get to the nearest light switch. Your bed is angled so the foot faces the bathroom door, and the closet door to the left near the two windows you know are closed tight with the curtains drawn. The bedroom door is easily the furthest from the bathroom, leaving the overhead light out of the question. You knew, before you even began to analyze, that the bedside lamp you recall yourself leaving on is going to be the closest light source. Still, you needed to go through the motion of solidifying that information in your mind.

As you haltingly push it open, the quiet creak of the door, which sounds deafening in the silence of the bathroom, causes chills to pop up along your arms and the hairs at the nape of your neck to stand on end. Darkness ebbs as the light from the bathroom bleeds across the hardwood of your bedroom floor, slowly revealing the interior of your room.

Your heart lurches, and a scream rips from your chest when you see a dark figure sitting at the end of your bed come into focus as the bathroom door swings further open, the handle barely held in your now numb fingers. Panic barrels through you. Your muscles react instinctively, fingers tightening around the knob as you jerk back, the door closing with a harsh bang as you backpedal across the bathroom.

“Babe,” calls a playful voice from just on the other side of the door. You can barely hear it over the roaring in your ears. Nausea threatens to double you over, even as relief floods your system—such conflicting emotions that you feel suddenly off-kilter. 

There is a fine sheen of cold sweat clinging to your neck. Your hands fist into the front of your shirt as the door eases open to reveal your boyfriend standing at the threshold. His dark ensemble makes it seem like the bathroom's light bends around his form, not daring to touch him.

You’ve never liked it when someone intentionally scares you, claiming it’s a joke. It always seems more like a cruel prank than a laughing matter. Though, you note, no one is laughing right now either way. He doesn’t look smug or self-satisfied for having scared you, just simply mildly amused.

“You scared me, Yoongi,” you state flatly, crossing your arms over your chest, hoping he picks up on your discomfort.

The corners of his lips turn down, and his brow furrows as he gives you an exaggerated pout. Even with your pounding heart and the upside down in your belly, you can’t help but appreciate how cute he is when he does that. “I know. I just didn’t see the point in wasting the power if you weren’t going to be in there.” He gestures vaguely behind him to your room, which is barely lit by the light pouring out of the bathroom.

It’s on the tip of your tongue to remind him that even though you weren’t in there, he was. Though, for some reason, Yoongi sitting in the dark doesn’t strike you as out of place. In the five years you’ve been together, you’ve learned to love his odd quirks just as much as any other part of him. He’s genuine, a caring person who isn’t afraid to be vulnerable—a far cry from anyone else you’ve ever given your time to.

“How was work?” you ask, aiming to get back on track with some semblance of normalcy—anything to not dwell on the lingering discomfort that’s still beating away in your chest.

His shoulders hitch up in a nonchalant manner. “Same as always. There’s been a big break in the Hunt case. Director Park thinks we’ll have the code cracked in a few more days. I say by tomorrow night, tops, just in time for our date. It’ll be a reward for my hard work,” his eyes twinkle with mirth. “After all, I think Samhain is a pretty fitting day for dealing with evil, huh?”

You make a noncommittal sound at that last part. Yoongi might enjoy that thought, but to you, tomorrow is more so just a day…simply October 31st and is more about plastic pumpkins, like the ones you have sitting on your front porch, than dealing with evil like that. The fact that Yoongi has convinced you to go to a festival tomorrow night is so wild you’ve been forcing yourself not to think about it.

“Well, I’d put my money on you over Director Park any day,” you say instead, giving him a soft, knowing smile. Yoongi has a penchant for estimations. If he thinks it’ll only take another day to crack a code that’s been wreaking havoc on Interpol for the better part of a year, then you believe him. You don’t pretend to understand all the intricacies of what he does; just know he’s really good with computers and helps whichever government agency needs it most or something like that.

Yoongi gives you a lazy smile in return. “Mmm, that’s what I like to hear. Your confidence in me is like kindling for my fervor,” he croons, wrapping you up in his arms. It feels good to relax in his embrace, the last vestiges of your earlier panic melting away as you soak in his warmth and familiarity. “Sorry I scared you,” he murmurs into your damp hair. “Let me make it up to you.”

“What did you have in mind?” you ask, laughing softly when his fingers slip under the hem of your shirt and teasingly caress your sides—the touch is light, making your skin tighten and prickle in response.

A rumbling groan vibrates through Yoongi’s chest as he playfully nips along your jaw before planting his lips firmly over yours in a dizzying and claiming way. “We’ll start with kissing,” the words are whispered between plucks of his mouth against yours, tongue swiping sensually across your bottom lip.

“Kissing is good,” you agree, smiling against his mouth before melting into another heated tangle of tongues and stilted breaths. That fist around your heart eases, letting your chest expand fully for the first time since before you showered.

“Biting,” he murmurs, pulling away from the kiss to bury his face in your neck. The light pressure of his teeth pressing against your skin has your toes curling against the cold tile floor and your fingers fisting into the front of his shirt.

Yoongi plants his mouth right over your pulse point, his tongue flicking over your throbbing vein as his teeth clamp down gently. You swallow hard against the sensation, your heart shifting gears to thud fast in your chest for a different reason. It’s not necessarily fear that drives your senses higher now so much as it is anticipation and an increase in adrenaline—terror adjacent, something you prefer much more to the former.

You shudder against him, knees going weak as he moans, the sound sending pulsing shocks of vibrations down your spine with how his mouth fits against your neck. His fingers ghost along your shorts before finally pushing past the elastic band. The palms of his hands are warm as they slide around and grip handfuls of your ass.

Using his hold on you, Yoongi lifts you up onto the counter beside the sink. As his hands retreat, they tug your shorts with them, working them around the curve of your ass until they’re caught at your knees. You let him push them further until they slacken and fall to catch around your ankles, then onto the floor. Wincing slightly at how cold the counter is against your bare skin, you urge him to fill the space between your thighs, seeking his warmth flush against you once again.

“Yoongi,” you hiss, sucking in a sharp breath as he slides a hand between your bodies and presses the flat of his fingers against your pussy. You don’t need to look in the mirror to know his teeth have left an impression on your neck. He leans back and licks his lips in a show of appreciation, lidded eyes full of mischief and barely veiled lust. “Please.” It comes out warbled as he teases his middle finger between your lower lips.

“Beg for it,” he says. “Show me how much you want me to make you forget about the darkness.” His voice has an edge, like he’s teasing at something, but it’s lost on you to piece together what it might be.

Sucking in a deep breath, you repeat your plea, “Please.”

Your chest is rising and falling rapidly, and you can feel your erratic heartbeat pounding between your legs and under the sensitive skin of your neck that Yoongi ravaged with his teeth. Lightheadedness kisses the edges of your clarity, daring you to get lost in the delirium that Yoongi is offering.

“You can do better than that,” Yoongi taunts, his laugh low and husky as he pulls away, leaving you bereft of his touch where you want it most. “Beg. For. It.” The words are clipped, punctuated with staccato taps of his middle finger against your sensitive clit.

“Fuck—Yoongi, please! Please, I need you!”

“That’s my girl,” Yoongi smiles wickedly. Two slender fingers sliding into your wet heat are your reward. “You’re so wet already. Look at how your body is pulling me in. Fuck, that’s nice.” He angles himself so you can both look down and watch his fingers slowly pull out, glistening with your arousal before sinking back in.

Your body squeezes around his fingers, walls fluttering in anticipation and building pleasure. “Need you,” you mumble, grabbing at the button on the front of his dark wash jeans with one hand and tugging at the bottom of his black t-shirt with the other. “Fuck me, Yoongi, please. Please, fuck me. I need you to make me forget.”

A flurry of motion accompanies his answering growl of approval as he helps you strip him out of his clothes and the rest of your own. You barely feel the absence of his fingers in your cunt before he pulls your ass to the edge of the counter and shoves his cock inside with a guttural moan that echoes in the small space.

The fit of him inside your body is deliciously perfect, like he was made to please you. Your fingers press dents into his shoulders as you grip him tightly. One of his hands squeezes your hip to keep you from slipping off the counter while the other finds its way to having a light grip on your throat.

His forehead rests against yours, the back of your head pressed against the mirror behind you. The angle makes his thrusts shallow, forcing the crown of his cock to rock against a sensitive spot deep inside that has you seeing spots behind your closed lids.

Yoongi has always been a contrasting lover, hot and cold, in a way that always leaves you breathless and assuaged. The look on his face says he’s fucking you, but the sensual roll of his hips says he’s making love to you—the hand on your throat says he just wants to control you. Regardless of how he fucks, it always consumes you. From the first time to now, he wholly and utterly devours your sanity and spits it back at you two-fold. He brings you palpable lucidity while also destroying all sense of right and wrong. Some call it morally grey; you call it just another titillating facet of who he is.

Pleasure builds fast, and you know you’re about to tip over the edge when the pressure of his hand on your throat increases. It’s an infinitesimal change, but it feels like the tightening of a vice all the same.

The erratic beat of your heart stutters further, swallowing you down into a thick-headed spiral of trepidation. You know Yoongi won’t hurt you. It’s not that—not quite. It’s the idea and knowledge that he could. It’s a taboo feeling, craving that helpless flutter deep in your belly that dares you to indulge in the darkness instead of running from it.

Yoongi’s hips continue to roll against you, your body pinned in place by his hand on your throat. Your eyes flutter open just to fall shut again as the hand on your hip moves until his thumb presses against your clit, making your body jerk and hurtle back toward the precipice of pleasure from before.

With his thumb pressed against one throbbing artery in your neck and the pads of his fingers against the twin on the other side, he has complete and utter control over you. All it takes is another barely-there squeeze to have you changing your grip from his shoulders to his forearm.

The bitter taste of cowardice laces together with the cloyingly sweet, carnal flavor of lust that’s coating your insides. Yoongi rumbles, a moan low in his chest. The rhythm of his hips kicks up until they’re hammering against yours to the point that measures of pain mix with the terror, forming into a rapture of exhilaration. His thumb coaxes your orgasm through precise flicks over your swollen clit.

You can’t help the sound that rips from your throat, squeezing past his grip in a ragged mockery of a moan—bright colors spiderweb across the backs of your closed lids as you sip from his chalice of wickedness. White noise joins the rush of blood in your ears as somewhere in the deep recesses of your mind, alarm begins to bleed into the hazy euphoria clouding your head. “Yes!” Yoongi groans. “That’s it, fuck!”

“Y-yoon—“ you try to choke out his name, fingers trembling from their tight grip on his forearm. Just as you’re about to try and shove him away to get a reprieve, his hand loosens its hold on your throat, and the instant rush of oxygen to your brain washes away all other thoughts as your body surrenders once again to his dominion. The orgasm tears through you, sweeping you out in a hedonistic riptide. Your walls clamp around his cock so hard he snarls and shudders with the trigger of his own release.

You must have blacked out from the overwhelming cascade that besieged your senses because the next thing you’re aware of is Yoongi tucking you into bed beside him. The sheets are cool against your heated skin, a welcome lull of relief. He presses into your sated body, chest against your back and arm possessively curling over your hip. “Get some sleep, my queen,” he murmurs. “I’ll hold the darkness back.”

The room is dark, just as it was earlier when you panicked. But, just as always, when Yoongi is around, it’s less frightening…seemingly somehow less dark and foreboding. He might have darker desires when it comes to pleasure, but right now, he’s the light that chases away your other demons.

🖤🖤🖤

Yoongi

The taste of your fear still lingers in the back of Yoongi’s throat as he pretends to sleep curled around you. He knew turning off your bedroom light would scare you. It’s why he did it. The peckish feeling that rumbled in the pit of his stomach drove him to want to play with you. Your fear instantly sated his hunger, and it made his dick hard when you screamed. You scream so prettily he just can’t help that natural, primal response. 

That is, after all, precisely why he chose you. Everything about you speaks to his needs, promising sweet and succulent fruit that’s always ripe for plucking.

He learned early on that if he could elevate your heart rate and incite a sliver of fear in you while fucking you…well, his full belly is testament enough to how much he loves that. You call it a kink, he calls it dessert. It wasn’t his intention to fuck you after he frightened you, but the irritating erection grating along his zipper had other plans. 

His mortal form isn’t his favorite. It’s far too small and has far too many baser needs and limitations. Though he does enjoy the feel of your soft, pliant flesh under his—especially when you’re ripe with the sweet smell of terror—it makes it worth the discomfort this inferior mode has.

It’s not lost on Yoongi that he could have ruined you from the start by taking too much from you. But he’s been careful over the years, molding and training your body to be the perfect vessel for him to feed from. The fact you were already experiencing high anxiety and an innate fear of the dark prior to him coming into your life helped tremendously. Nyctophobia is such a beautiful thing.

You claim he’s helped you, for the most part, get over your fears. However, he knows this is just a lie you tell him and yourself to make yourself feel and seem braver. He knows the truth, though. There is no getting over your fear, not when it lives with you…sleeps next to you, touches you, fucks you. He’s everything you’re scared of, everything you think is creeping around in the dark, waiting to pounce. He’s your worst nightmare…literally as much as figuratively—and you have absolutely no inkling of that truth. All you see is what he lets you see: just a sweet guy with a penchant for darker tastes behind closed doors.

To you, he’s just Yoongi. But he has had many names over the centuries: Demon, Baba Yaga, El Coco, Butzemann, Tikoloshe, Bogeyman, and so on. All of them are generally the same, but none are quite right. He is all these things, and yet none of these things—he’s so much more.

It’s a common misconception that he only targets people who do misdeeds. That’s not it at all, for the sweetest fruit is the unwary, the innocent, the vulnerable, and the scared. That is the pinnacle of his desire, the unctuous delight that feeds his depravity and gives him power over the darkness—darkness that calls to him now.

Being careful not to wake you, Yoongi slips out from around your soft, lush body. Feeding on your fear in the bathroom drained some of your vitality, lowering your constitution, and the best recovery for that is a good, uninterrupted eight hours. So, he’ll leave you to replenish so that he may feast once again—one last time before he executes his final, ultimate plan; the whole reason he chose you to begin with and has been periodically parading around in this limited meat suit for years.

The maw of darkness under your bed beckons him to shake off the mortal form and take his rightful place as King among the shadows. Yoongi catches his reflection in the standing mirror across the room. The only thing distinct is the brilliant red eyes staring back at him. It feels good to stretch and dissolve into his proper form, shadows snaking along his limbs and filling his every breath.

You fidget on the bed, brow furrowing as your body reacts to the nearness of his proper form. He likes watching you twitch and shift, soft mewls of fright sounding low in your chest. If he wanted, he could swallow you whole, and you’d never be the wiser, one moment existing in your nightmare and the next slithering into the ether of what comes after. But, it’s not time…not yet.

Letting one of his long, spindly shadow fingers draw back in and reform into the echo of human flesh, he presses the blunt tip against your temple. You instantly quell your movements, and the pitiful cry in your chest subsides. Yoongi can feel the subtle tremble of your body, the vibrations skittering through your flesh as your body recognizes his hellish touch. Your subconscious is as familiar with his umbral form as your conscious is with the lies he’s used to frame how you see him with your eyes.

Digging through the screen of your nightmare, he pulls back the darkness and lets in just enough light to lull you into a false sense of security—something he does nearly every night after he’s fed from you so he doesn’t accidentally drain you dry. By the time he returns, the light will have faded from your dreams, and there will be just enough unfettered distress permeating the air of your bedroom to give him a top off of delicious fear, his own personal cup of pick-me-up.

Yoongi slides under the bed and into the darkness, leaving you to your deep, lambent dreams. He melts through the barrier between your world and his. Euphoria buzzes through him as his depth of power increases. That’s the biggest downfall of walking the mortal plane. There aren’t quite enough shadows or stinking fear to fill the neverending void inside him. But here, in the Realm of Darkness, the taste of terror is thick and nectarous. It lingers in the air and is as permanent as the oxygen you breathe in your world.

Yoongi drifts through the firmament of his domain, letting the worries and stress of what’s to come fade. For a being with endless power and control, he never thought he might have the need to be concerned over something seemingly so trivial. But, the ceremony and ritual he has planned for tomorrow night is easily the most critical thing he’s ever dared to accomplish.

The Realm of Darkness might be sufficiently filled with succulent fodder for him, but there are other limitations he encounters. Constraints that involve the worlds beyond his Kingdom. He doesn’t want just to be able to thrive here on his own turf. He has aspirations of letting his darkness seep into the outer realms—including yours—and if he has his way, you will help him do just that. The barriers will crumble, and he’ll be free to bathe the distant realms in his thick ichor of destruction.

Finally feeling more like himself, he aims for the Shadow Spire, where waits the Throne of the Damned—his throne. All it takes is a simple thought, and he’s standing in the sprawling cavern of the throne room. It stretches wide in all directions, having no end or beginning, just existing as his will needs.

Pillars of malachite soar into the air at equal intervals, disappearing into the glittering cosmos expanse above his head. Silvery flecks of light cast the whole room in a mockery of the night sky of your world, something he’s grown to admire over the years spent there. Yoongi takes a deep breath, soaking in the tangy, bitter stench of brimstone and copper. Soon, he hopes, your delectable perfume of fear will join them.

“Sire,” a gruff voice says in surprise. “We weren’t expecting you back until the ritual. Welcome, is there anything we can do for you?”

Yoongi settles his shadowy form on the monstrous broken stone pillar at the top of the dais that rises from the rocky floor. His court, ever vigilant in their duty to him, wait for him to respond. “Is everything prepared for the ceremony?” he asks, eyes finally landing on the six figures seated on the smaller stone plinths arrayed in a semi-circle in front of him—the Shadow Court once again complete with his return. Hopefully, he won’t have to leave the comfort of his court but one more time. Once the ritual is done, he shouldn’t have to so much as lift a finger to reach into the overworld.

“All is well and ready, Sire.” Wicked smiles spread like wildfire across the court. They’re just as excited as Yoongi is to be finally moving forward with the plan. None of them have tasted the kind of fear that Yoongi has feasted on from you—the fresh terror of the mortal realm—but if they had more corporeal forms, he knows they’d be salivating. Soon, so very soon.

Looking around at his companions, he can’t help but think how humorous it is that you so readily believed his deceptions about working for the human government. He remembers the day he finally stepped from the shadows and made himself known to you. You were immediately drawn to him and couldn't stop yourself from indulging in your curiosities like a moth drawn to a flame.

Yoongi had already come up with an elaborate backstory and characterization for the human he wanted to portray. He knew all of your deep, dark fantasies and brought them to life. Your eyes got round with awe and reverence when he first revealed his supposed job, confirming how gullible and under his spell you were. He can’t deny it’s worked in his favor.

He’s allowed to keep odd hours and disappear as needed. When he returns to your bed before the sun rises, he’ll leave you a note on your pillow about being pulled away for work. You’ll read it and sigh a dreamy sigh as you have every other time he’s done that. You never bother to seek further explanation—your trust in him is so wholly concrete.

There is satisfaction in the freedom you’ve granted him to embrace a darker side. It’s how he can get away with fucking you so callously that your brain warps it into some deranged form of love. You’ve chalked every depraved thing he’s done to you up to him needing an outlet after dealing with such heinous stuff for work. He only had to mention a few well-known acronyms, like FBI and CIA, and you accepted it. As scared as you are of the dark, he’s aware of the collection of slasher and horror novels you keep stuffed away under your bed and that you listen with rapt attention to those silly crime shows and podcasts that tell you he’s not the one you should be scared of. Soon, he won’t have to worry about any of that, though—no more silly backstory, no more hiding, no more stuffy mortal form, no more holding back. Tomorrow signifies a change, a new beginning. It’s the time when the veil between the worlds will be thin enough that he can drag you down without it sucking your life away. Some call it Samhain, Calan Gaeaf, Mischief Night, Halloween—it holds nearly as many names as Yoongi himself does—but for him, it will be the night he calls triumph. The night his shadows will lay a claim to you wholly; the night you stop fearing what goes bump in the night and instead stand by its side and let it consume you.

Wicked Delight

Consciousness comes in fits and spurts of clarity. There is a moment where you’re asleep but aware. With this awareness, you can discern and feel the potent darkness webbing across your subconscious. You’ve seen it before, the myriad of inky tendrils that zig-zag through the light like fissures over a dried river bed. It scares you but also fills you with intrigue so rich it nearly eclipses the fear.

You know that if you could just hang on to that in-between space, the feeling of teetering on the edge of a knife, you could examine the darkness further and figure out what it is and where it comes from. But your body has other plans, sucking you away from your inspection and pushing you toward uneasy wakefulness.

Shifting under the blankets, a crinkling noise draws your eyes open to land on a rumple of white paper lying beside you on the empty side of the bed. With fumbling fingers, you grab the ripped leaf of creamy parchment and turn it so you can see the blue scrawl of words.

Got some darkness to take care of. Can’t wait to see you tonight. Don’t forget; 11 pm sharp, beginning of the corn maze. X

There is no name signed to the note, just an X, but you know who left it, regardless. You roll over, holding the thin paper above you so you can see the faded, faint print under his ink. A smile tugs at your lips when you realize it’s a corner ripped from Kinder und Hausmärchen, one of Yoongi’s favorite books. He has an original first edition that he’s let you moon over a few times. The first time you found a note and saw what it was written on, you nearly crawled out of your skin to berate him for ruining such a prize. He gently chided you for your reaction and assured you it was just a copy, scanned and printed for the whimsy of it.

Looking closer, you see the corner is from a page of the Cat and Mouse in Partnership tale. Your smile fades, turning into a mild frown as an odd feeling ghosts beneath your skin, eliciting goosebumps to pop up along your arms. Sighing, you shake your head and pull the blanket up high under your chin, chalking the sensation up to being cold. Your eyes rove around the room, taking in the early morning light filtering in through your thin curtains, showing you just enough of the inside of your room to be comfortable with not having a light on.

Finally deciding there’s no point in dallying in bed further, you toss back the covers and brace yourself against the chill in your room. Only, it’s not as cold as you were anticipating. Opening the small drawer on your nightstand to deposit the message in with the dozens of others Yoongi has left you over the years, you can help but smile. They’re sweet, little pieces of him that affirm to you why it’s okay he disappears the way he does. The reminder comforts you, especially on this day.

Halloween has never been your favorite. Well, that’s not true, exactly. You do like Halloween—just the modern and more mainstream version with candy, pumpkins, and warm, spiced drinks. Fall colors are also something you enjoy. The cooler air is nice. You’re partial to cozy sweaters and boots, too.

All in all, you enjoy this time of the year. You just don’t necessarily like the darker parts, the scarier parts. Haunted houses and scary movies are things you could do without unless it’s under very specific circumstances. Such as having Yoongi there. Which is the only reason you’ve agreed to meet him at the festival tonight. You haven’t been since you were a teen and got so scared by the fright actors that you swore never to return.

Except, now, you are returning. It’s been on the tip of your tongue for the last week to cancel on Yoongi, feigning a head or stomach ache. But, the sheer excitement in his gaze when you agreed, has been enough to make you bite your tongue every time a protest bubbles up. You can—and will—do this.

With an entire day to go before your date with Yoongi, you busy yourself with mundane tasks. A bit of cleaning, some light reading, and lastly, dumping a few bags of assorted and prepackaged candies into a bright orange bowl with a goofy jack-o-lantern face printed on the side.

You’re usually a porchlight-off kind of person. Still, this year, considering your own venture outside your proverbial Halloween box, you decided why not go the extra mile for others, too? Even if one kid dumps the entire bowl into their treat bag, you’ll at least feel somewhat accomplished in your attempt.

Setting the bowl on your doorstep, you stand back and survey it. The yellow-tinged porch light illuminates the candy and the plastic pumpkins you have arranged on either side of your door. You contemplate adding a ‘please take only one’ sign for the bowl but decide a paper warning isn’t much of a deterrent. Leaving the candy to its fate, you head back inside to finish getting ready.

Time flows in a weird, out-of-body kind of way. You’re aware of pulling on your coat and walking into your garage through the kitchen—even the process of driving to the festival registers in your mind. But, you’re genuinely not cognisant of what you’re doing until you’re staring at the large flashing sign for the festival. You have to practically put on blinders to make it through the ticketing process, ignoring the scare actors as you wait in line.

The corn maze is at the center of it all, meaning you keep your eyes glued to the ground as you skirt the edges of the food stalls and game stands until you reach it. There, you wait, standing at the start of the corn maze and stare at your watch, counting the seconds as they tick by with the small hand.

The air is cool, the crisp scent of fall heavy around you. Laughter and faint screams carry to you from the festival surrounding the maze. The giant corn labyrinth is the center of the entire two-week-long event. Thousands of people flock from near and far to venture within the husked, cream-colored stalks.

If you make it through the maze without assistance from the scare actors, then you get an entire bucket of caramel popcorn drizzled with chocolate. That’s never been enough of a reward for you to try. Even the last time you were here, you never stepped foot into the clustered embrace of the maze.

The festival is lit enough with all the twinkling lights and fair games lining the thoroughfares and the midway. Food trucks and stalls litter through the vendors with stuffed animals and cackling clowns. You try to ignore the bodies that sway and shamble through the crowd—the scare actors. They’re just people dressed up in costume and makeup, but they still elicit that flighty feeling in your belly, that little trickle of fear.

At the ticket booths, there were neon green necklaces you could purchase. You used them as a distraction while you waited in line. They’re ‘no scare’ necklaces, big bright indicators that you’re a sensitive little bitch that doesn’t want to be scared. At least, that’s how you felt looking at them, considering buying one. You know they’re an extremely valid item, a protective emblem that many people need, and that it’s perfectly fine—in fact, it’s encouraged for people to use them if they need to.

As you fingered the green nylon of the lanyard, you couldn’t help chewing your bottom lip, worrying at it until it cracked under your teeth and the coppery tang of blood danced across your tongue. You almost bought it…maybe you should have. However, the fact that you’re half-hidden by the corn maze sign and doing everything in your power not to draw unwanted attention to yourself seems to be keeping you from attracting the actors your way.

The tiny hand on your watch ticks away, drawing closer to turning over the minute, which'll turn over the hour to 11 PM. Sharp. Yoongi’s insistence. Just as the hands come together on your watch, you feel that telltale tingling feeling of eyes on you. It’s a familiar sensation, one you often associate with Yoongi. Daring to step out from behind the sign to the corn maze, you spin in a slow circle, trying to catch sight of him.

“Looking for someone?”

You have to clamp a hand over your mouth to muffle the shriek that rips from your chest as those words drift in from right behind you. So close that it’s impossible to imagine you hadn’t noticed him approaching you as you looked around.

“Yoongi,” you sigh, dropping your hand.

He's enveloping you from behind before you can turn around and give him a pouty yet stern look. His familiar musk and warmth ease your heart back from its hammering gallop. “You’re good enough to eat,” he gruffly murmurs, pressing his nose into the fabric of your coat at the juncture of your shoulder and neck. You can feel more than hear his deep inhalation, as if he’s drawing in the scent of your very soul and branding it throughout his olfactory system.

“The maze closes in an hour. Are you sure we can make it to the center before then?” you ask, voice light and airy as relief infused with drips of serotonin weaken your knees and your resolve to be upset with him for frightening you. You turn in his arms, keen to look upon his face for another kick of comfort, but it sours in your belly when you take in his pulled-up hood and the thick black gaiter covering the bottom half of his face. “What’s that for?”

Yoongi shrugs, shoulders lifting in his typical nonchalant manner. “It’s Halloween. Consider me dressed for the occasion.” He winks at you, but it does nothing to quell the unease still rolling around just beneath your surface. Feigning that stomachache is starting to sound more and more appealing, Yoongi’s excitement be damned.

“You look like a burglar.”

You can’t see his smile, but you can tell it’s there by how his eyes crinkle and lids lower mischievously. “And you look ripe for the burgling.”

“You’re insufferable,” you gripe teasingly, finally letting a smile grace your face despite the lingering anxiety. It’s easy to forget your fears and worries when you’re looking into his umber-colored gaze.

“Come on, let’s go.” Yoongi offers you his elbow, and you tuck your hand into the crook of it, leaning your shoulder against his arm.

The fleece-lined leggings you chose to wear keep you warm enough, paired with the knit sweater and thick tweed coat covering your top half. Your chunky boots are comfortable and practical for the slightly uneven terrain of the cornfield-turned-maze. Yoongi is far more casual in just jeans, the hoodie, and a pair of dusty and worn sneakers.

You study his face the best you can past the edge of his hood and out of the corner of your eye. He’s just as handsome as always. Even the black fabric covering the bottom half of his face doesn’t detract from his allure, which seems to be intensified by the deepening darkness around you as he leads you through the maze entrance.

A festival worker stands off to the side in full-on farmer-gore. Their overalls are covered in faux viscera, and there is a bloodied sling blade dangling from their off-hand as they beckon you and Yoongi forward with their other.

“Tonight's savior phrase is ‘Pumpkin Guts’, yell it out if you need assistance navigating the maze, and a helper will assist you,” he offers before turning to the next patron approaching a few feet behind you and Yoongi and giving them the same information.

“Pumpkin Guts,” Yoongi scoffs with a quiet laugh. “Surely they could have come up with something far more fitting than that.”

“I find it kind of nice. The childish charm of it helps make a situation like getting lost in the maze less scary, don’t you think?”

His eyes look more onyx now that you’re within the maze, the only illumination coming from tiny, sparse fairy lights. They catch your gaze, and you see a smile tilt up the corner of Yoongi’s mouth. “That’s adorable.”

“What?” you laugh, feeling heat crawl into your cheeks.

Yoongi shakes his head, his smile growing. “You always find the good in everything. It’s one of the things I like most about you.”

All the residual anxiety from earlier bleeds away with just that singular statement. You press in closer to Yoongi and angle your face up in silent request, to which he immediately obliges. He hooks a finger in the lip of his gaiter and pulls it down so he can slant his mouth over yours. His lips are warmer than usual, his breath carrying faint hints of bourbon as he teasingly slips his tongue through the seam of your lips. All too soon, he’s pulling away, leaving you with just that small taste of him. The gaiter slides back into place, and he nods ahead of you. “The quicker we make it to the center, the quicker you get the surprise I have waiting for you.”

“A surprise?” you ask, thoroughly intrigued. 

His affirming hum in response turns into a soft chuckle as you eagerly quicken your steps, tugging him along beside you. As someone who isn’t partial to being shocked or scared, it’s perhaps a bit ironic that you love surprises of the unknown. They just have to be the right kind—like one from Yoongi; er, well, at least the ones that don’t involve him sitting on your bed in the dark as you open the bathroom door or so you tell yourself—but you digress.

Though, perhaps there is a bit of enjoyment from those kinds of surprises, too. In a twisted, semi-fucked up way, the surge of adrenaline is like a counterweight to the dopamine response from your amygdala that follows any time you get frightened. The perfect balance of emotions. The fight or flight reflex makes your body feel like it’s keyed up with extra energy, leaving you feeling like you’ve just run a mile or fucked for an hour. It’s maybe a little unhinged to salivate over those small sips of terror secretly. Does that make you a masochist?

You’d almost think Yoongi picks up on your inner thoughts with the way he makes an amused sound in the back of his throat and gives you a sidelong, knowing look. Something tingles beneath your skin, an electric feeling akin to loose ambitions. It seems tonight won’t be so bad after all.

The crunch of dried corn husks and hay accompanies the occasional scream or laugh echoing from various points in the maze. You’ve only led Yoongi to a dead-end a handful of times so far, but the anxiety at not having found the center of the maze yet is starting to mount.

“I can feel your stress in the tension in your hand,” Yoongi muses softly. “Relax, you’ll get your surprise.”

“What if they close the maze before we make it to the center, though?”

“They won’t.”

You cut a quick glance at him. He looks smug. “You seem so sure, but from my count,” you shift your attention to your watch, “we only have fifteen minutes before the festival closes, and I’d guess we’re nowhere near the center yet.”

Yoongi shrugs. “I may have paid the vendor to let us stay as long as we need.”

“You did what?”

“Tonight’s special,” Yoongi tugs you to a stop, his hands engulfing yours, and gives you a pointed look. “Very special.” The thumb of his right hand grazes over the expanse of skin above the knuckle on your left ring finger. “Now, let’s go find the center…and your surprise.”

A new sensation trickles in–excitement. Your heart patters faster as you turn and haul Yoongi on with renewed vigor. Gone is any trepidation; in its place, nothing but giddy and barely veiled anticipation. And to think, you’d almost been silly and canceled on him.

🖤🖤🖤

Yoongi

Yoongi wasn’t exaggerating when he said you look good enough to eat tonight. If only you knew how close to an accurate statement that was. He’s had a constant flow of moisture seeping into his mouth since he laid eyes on you standing behind the wooden sign for the maze. He had just finished setting up the surprise for you in the center, utilizing his natural form in order to move quickly without being seen.

All the implements he needs await him at the maze's center. The theatrics of it all are only for fun. He could have simply taken you without them. But he’s always been partial to playing with his food before devouring it. The pungency of your anxiety as you waited was a delightful appetizer to what is sure to be a satiating main course.

Every time you make a wrong turn in the maze, Yoongi can feel the tension in your muscles and the momentary disappointment that flavors your scent. It’s amusing watching you shuffle your feet and grumble under your breath before turning and backtracking.

It’s not lost to him the amount of uncertainty you’ve had ever since he asked you to go with him tonight. Not that he would have given you a choice in the end; he’d have taken you by force if needed. But he’s a passive creature at best, so the less work he has to do, the better.

Using the ruse of there being a surprise waiting for you isn’t entirely untrue. Though, the treat he’s confident that he’s planted the idea of in your head is far different from what’s actually going to happen. He’s spent enough time in the mortal realm to know what you’d have interpreted from him stroking that particular finger with the right look in his eye. Your heart had gone into a frenzy of thick, heavy beats, and your eyes had lit up with wonder.

Yeah, he’s pretty sure he knows what’s driving your feet to move as quickly as they are now. It’ll just make the disappointment taste that much sweeter. Over the five years he’s been administering to you, molding you into the perfect vessel, he’s learned the small nuances that make you tick. Whether it’s for eliciting fear or excitement, desire or anguish, he knows exactly how to produce the results he wants.

“Ugh,” you grumble for the dozenth time when you turn a corner and come to another dead end. “This is impossible. How can you find enjoyment in these things?”

Yoongi smirks. “It’s quite analytical if you really want me to answer that.” The way your nose wrinkles when he says that is positively adorable. “Come on, I’ll help you out.”

You gleefully cede the lead, letting him guide you back and toward a different direction entirely. You’re still excited, bubbling with positive anticipation, even though you’re no longer playing the game, per se. It’s interesting how you so quickly relinquish the hunt—he’d never.

The noise of the festival and maze has long since fizzled away. He didn’t actually pay the attendant. He’s just using some of his ability to mask your presence from anyone who might get in the way. Some of the lights from the midway are still going, and a few rides are lit up. However, the deeper Yoongi leads you into the labyrinth, the darker it becomes. He’s confident you’re so wound up that you don’t even notice how his shadows grow and stretch along the narrow walkway around you.

“Oh, look!” You excitedly point at the opening that comes into view at the end of the row. “I can smell the popcorn. Did that bribe include a bucket waiting for us, too?”

Yoongi has no idea if there is popcorn waiting, but he imagines you’re only smelling the lingering scent. He can’t detect anyone else within a hundred-meter radius around the maze. If the prospect of popcorn makes you happy, then sure. “Of course it did. We’ll need a snack once I’m done with you.” Which mostly isn’t true, though he can’t be sure. Yoongi has never shadow-turned a human before, much less taken a mate in the process. You might be ravenous by the time he’s done; though, he’d bet it won’t be popcorn you’ll be craving.

There is a distinct moment where Yoongi can feel the shift in your demeanor. Your excitement dips into confusion as you take in the finish line area that’s deserted of anyone and anything other than the large 10 ft square structure he erected in the middle. The raw malachite plinths are so dark the lindworm-colored stone seems to absorb the illuminance around them, turning the gateway into a giant pit of darkness that devours the faint twinkling lights. Shadows bleed from the open space between the pillars, reaching for their master.

Yoongi’s blood sings with desire as fear trickles in with the confusion. “Yoongi,” you whisper his name, and it warbles from your lips oh so beautifully. “What’s that?”

“That’s your future, my love.” He untangles himself from your grip, circling you like a predator. “Now, run!” he snarls from right behind you.

You don’t even scream when he shoves you forward, your arms windmilling and boots tripping over the scatter of dried corn husks before you topple headlong between the pillars. The last thing he sees before the waiting shadows swallow you is the whites of your eyes as you throw a panicked look over your shoulder at him.

It’s mildly disappointing that you didn’t even so much as grunt or give him any sort of satisfaction that you’re petrified other than the cloying perfume of your terror that settles on his tongue when he huffs in irritation. Hopefully, when he follows you through the gateway, you’ll already be on the run because he’s in the mood to play a while longer before he shatters the world as you know it.

Yoongi wants you to recognize him, so he only casts off some of his mortal form, choosing to keep his face and most of his body intact. What changes is his size; he grows larger, arms and legs longer, fingers more like talons, and eyes the dark red of fresh blood.

He knows he looks monstrous, even more so with the cloth still covering the lower half of his face and the hoodie now ripped and hanging from his physique. As soon as he slides through the barrier of the gateway, he’s met with that euphoric sound he hoped for earlier. Your scream rends through the thick, stale air of the Realm of Darkness, music to his ears.

“That’s my girl,” Yoongi crows, his voice gravelly and distorted by his natural form. He inhales deeply, sucking in your dismay's succulent and divine fragrance. “Fuck.”

You scream again as he steps toward you, which spurs you into gaining your feet, not even caring to look at the soot-like substance caking your hands and knees. Yoongi can only imagine the thoughts warring inside your pretty little head right now. Wild fear makes your eyes flick frantically around before you choose a direction and sprint at breakneck speed between the skeletal trees surrounding this side of the gateway.

He chose the Forest of Decay specifically because it provides the perfect environment for a chase. It allows him to easily keep up with you while giving the illusion of protection. There’s also not a single nook or cranny Yoongi isn’t intimately familiar with; after all, he can’t have you finding some unknown hole to burrow into.

The flash and flicker of your coat draws his attention as it zigs and zags through the petrified sentinels of the forest. Their long, gnarled branches reach far, entwining overhead like a macabre endless bird's nest. It creates a dim atmosphere, with the faintest hint of light bleeding through the limbs. Each tree is about a foot wide and twenty feet high, the ground covered in sooty ash; it’s an ideal playground.

“Leave me alone!” you sob when Yoongi lets you catch another glimpse of him.

Yoongi shudders as a fresh, new wave of terror undulates from you and washes over him. “No can do, my queen.”

The thrill of the chase adds kindling to Yoongi’s need to consume you whole. Every step you take is reckless. You throw yourself around trees so fast you nearly hit the next. The spacing between the trees is relatively narrow, just a few feet at most. Still, with the way you’re barreling through them, you’ve already accumulated a few scratches and minor lacerations from the dried bark, feet kicking up small puffs of ash with every frantic step. The tangy, sweet scent of your blood makes him salivate. The thick, viscous drool coating his tongue will make it all that easier to fuck you with it once he catches you.

Lumbering on behind you, Yoongi intentionally stomps and makes as much noise as possible. Every crack and thump he makes has a whimper shivering from your throat. The thick appendage between his monstrous thighs swells with each terrified sound you make. Fucking you in his proper form will be such a treat. Surely, it’ll be far better than any sex he’s had with the limits of his human body, even if he does love the way your softness compliments his.

But there is nothing soft about Yoongi now—not when he has such a tasty morsel running and screaming so prettily for him. He’s all hard edges and thick muscle. A manic chuckle bubbles in his chest as he leaps ahead, hounding your heels.

It’s comical, ironic even, when he watches your foot catch on a high root hidden by a pile of ash, and you go sprawling on the ground before him. He’s seen enough of those cheesy horror films so fervently worshiped in your world to know how funny this is.

“Please, no! Leave me alone!” you beg through ragged breaths. Your face and hair are marked with scratches, flecks of dried bark, and the pewter-colored ash covering the ground.

An appreciative moan works its way free of Yoongi as he stands over you, swaying like he’s drunk. Which, maybe he is. There is a faint buzzing in his ears, and if he opens his eyes too wide, your image doubles. Two of you; he grins wickedly at the prospect. Now, that would be a definite treat.

As it is, there’s only you; that will be sufficient for what Yoongi has planned. He looms over you, and the backward-bending joints of his knees give slightly as he towers across your prone form. Your eyes pan over his arched body, perhaps for the first time, taking it in with true clarity. Yoongi lets his skin ripple between human and proper form, coalescing and whirling with shadows.

With a flex of darkness, he rends the remnants of his clothes. The ripping of the seams and subsequent soft plop of the ruined fabrics echo through the suddenly silent space. You’re barely even breathing as you take him in, eyes landing on the swinging cock that nearly brushes your belly as he places a gnarled hand beside your head in the ash.

“You’re mine,” he whispers, though it comes out more like sand in a grinder. Lowering further, Yoongi nudges your chin with his nose, guiding your head sideways to give him unfettered access to your throat. Pressing into the crook of your neck, he huffs hot breath over your skin, rejoicing in the instinctive reaction. Your skin prickles and flushes with goosebumps, and a thick cloud of potent fear wafts up as your pulse hammers away beneath his lips.

“P-please,” you whimper through trembling lips. Tears stream down your cheek and drip off the bridge of your nose. Their salty tang mixes with the sweetness of terror pervading the air.

That word, spoken in that way…it does something to Yoongi. He groans, nipping at the skin of your neck with his blunted teeth before letting them elongate so he can adequately graze your papery-thin flesh. You cry out when they slice through, leaving behind thin blood trickles and shallow scratches.

Your blood is laced with fear, blooming on his tongue like an ambrosia of the gods. “You’ve always begged so prettily, my queen. You’re a treasure, and I’m so glad I found you all those years ago, so innocent and unsuspecting—my perfect mate.”

The next scream that leaves your lips is guttural, full of panic and delirium as Yoongi takes his first pull from your body. Thin wisps of black shadow thread from his lips to yours. They pulse with every drag he takes. He’s fed from you thousands of times, but never like this—never so profoundly.

Fear, terror, horror, fright…it’s all the same, and yet Yoongi is almost sure he can taste the distinction. Like a fine wine, you have tasting notes that vary with every sip. By the fifth breath, your body has grown slack, your eyes wide and glassy. Tears still stream down your face but in silence.

Yoongi watches your pallor grow sickly, waxy as sweat pearls along your hairline and temples. Draining you is a delicate affair, something he’s both dreaded and looked forward to for so long. Watching the fire that he loves so much bleed from your eyes and the vigor leech from your skin pangs him with a foreign sensation, something akin to mourning? He realizes now he will mourn the loss of your human form, even if it’s far inferior to what he will turn you into.

With one final shuddering gasp, the darkest, thickest tendril of shadow snakes its way between your parted lips. Your fingers and limbs spasm as the inky darkness roots in deep, tethering itself to you like the strings of a marionette. It pulls tight in Yoongi’s own chest, cementing his essence to yours. As a barbed ring of shadow settles on the ring finger of your left hand, the bond snaps into place, and chaos ensues.

🖤🖤🖤

You’ve never experienced such visceral fear before. It’s consumed every fiber of your being. You’re no longer who you once were and will never be the same again. You are simply fear incarnate.

A boiling starts beneath your skin, beginning at the tips of your fingers and toes before rolling through to the center of your chest, where it pops and sizzles like dry ice in tepid water, so cold it burns.

It’s like flipping a coin. One minute, you are experiencing insurmountable terror, and the next, you exude it. Nothing can scare you now, not even the monster sitting a few feet away watching you with calculated eyes—familiar eyes, eyes you’ve lost yourself in more times than you can count.

They’re not as cold as they were a moment ago. You distinctly remember how those red eyes softened right before you felt yourself float away. It’s Yoongi, you know this, but it’s also not. He’s different, and it’s not even the deformed, gangly shadow form that makes up his body, either. There’s something more, something that draws you in, like an anchor dragging you into his deepest, darkest depths. He’s a vast ocean, and you’re pretty sure what he just did was akin to drowning you—killing you.

Only you don’t feel dead.

Quite the opposite, in fact. For the first time in your existence, you feel truly alive; and not in the living sense but in the eternal sense. You have no ending or beginning; you exist as you will yourself to be.

With that thought, your body urges you to change, to morph into a far more comfortable form. Darkness seeps from your pores, cascading out of your skin until it becomes a mockery of its former self, and it feels good—so good.

“What have you done to me?” Your voice sounds different, soft yet sultry. It reminds you of black silk and lace, devious and coy, with the perfect mix of husk and drawl.

Yoongi lets out a slow breath, the sound like dry leaves crackling. “Made you mine.”

“What…what are we?”

The soft ash sifts between your now exposed toes, the boots you once wore laying in peeled strips along with tattered remnants of your clothes. Nudity has never been an issue for you, but it’s as if you have no inhibitions at all now. The shadows around your body contort to form curves and perfect swells.

“We have many names. Demons, bogeymen…it’s all very fitting, yet doesn’t quite capture the truth. What I am—what we are—is darkness, fear, terror, and shadow. We are infinite, endless, and everything all at once.”

“Why me?” you whisper. That tether inside of you pulses, pulling tight as you shift and try to put distance between yourself and Yoongi. It’s like a rope around your throat, pulling you up short.

Yoongi narrows his eyes, lips quirking in amusement. “This is the Realm of Darkness—my domain,” he gestures broadly with a clawed hand, “and it was all I had access to until I found a way to enter yours. Once I tasted the sweet nectar of fear it provided and the power it allowed me access to, I couldn’t stop my curiosity and need for more. Then I found you, and I knew you would be the perfect compliment to my aspirations, just the thing I needed to break the barriers completely.”

He straightens up, and the way his body catches your attention has a heat flaring somewhere deep in your being. Your eyes lock on the dark sinews and plump muscles that stretch and contract as Yoongi moves to crouch in front of you. The ribbed and notched cock swaying between his thighs dribbles a thick, viscous line of lavender-colored arousal.

Tearing your eyes from the sight of it, you force yourself to look into his feral, red eyes. His explanation is both confusing and clear at the same time. You understand it, but know that you should be railing against it because it’s morally incomprehensible. You’ve essentially been kidnapped and forced into what this is. Yet…yet—“I feel…” you trail off, trying to find the right word to describe it.

“Powerful,” Yoongi offers with a knowing, pointed-tooth grin.

“Powerful,” you repeat, letting the word roll around your tongue before nodding. Perhaps that’s why you are shrugging off your cares and the moral compass that has seemingly forgotten how to point north.

The subtle smell of burnt wood and sulfur hits you as Yoongi raises a hand to fit across the front of your throat. Those too-long fingers engulf it, sending a shiver down your new body. Instead of your belly filling up with fear, it fills with desire and need. You no longer need to battle the terror, letting it drip away from you instead.

“Look at you. You’re so perfect. You don’t feel scared, but that’s only because this realm leeches it away and devours it before it can poison your mind, leaving behind nothing but how you truly feel.”

You know there has always been a darkness inside you, something that even you feared to face head-on. After all, it must take some kind of crazy to be both scared of the dark and want to embrace it. It’s not just the way Yoongi plied your body and made you forget to care about being proper and good. Is this what you were made for—all the fright and terror you’ve experienced and secretly sought out leading you to this very moment here?

All it takes is one look at Yoongi to know the truth.

You were created for this, crafted to be precisely what Yoongi needed, just as he said.

With that moment of clarity and acceptance, a new sensation slithers down your spine. A lasciviousness that has you moaning in surprise. 

“Fuck,” you grind out between clenched teeth.

“Gladly,” Yoongi chuckles, his red eyes taking on a lecherous gleam. “Let’s unleash your darkness on the realms, my queen.”

Between one breath and the next, your knees are splayed wide, and Yoongi has his face buried between your thighs. All it takes is one languid swipe of his long, broad tongue to have you cursing again. Caustic words fall from your mouth, laced with vitriol as it’s unfair how good it feels. It’s like every inch of contact between your body and his writes itself across what was once your soul.

“Mmmph,” you moan incoherently as the beginning of an orgasm lashes against your insides. Yoongi greedily sucks and licks, tongue laving over your throbbing clit before sliding between your contracting walls.

A tsunami of darkness crashes out from within you, blanketing the surrounding forest in shadow. Wisps of clarity ebb and flow, drifting along with the gloom until Yoongi grounds you with an exceptionally sharp pinch to one of your nipples.

“Almost there,” he announces gleefully, licking his lips before launching forward and forcing you onto your back.

Yoongi feels like fire against you, his body scorching everywhere it touches. You expect to feel the soft ash against your back but the only sensation that ebbs in is a cool aeration against the exposed skin between your shoulder blades.

Monstrous arms wrap around you as Yoongi slots his too-big mouth over yours, invading you with his slick, serpentine tongue. Your eyes flutter open, and you catch a glimpse of a pewter sky beyond the scraggy branches that are suddenly closer overhead.

You try to pull away from his devouring kiss to alert him to the jagged web of dry wood about to scrape his back, but he growls and renews his effort to shove his tongue as far into your mouth as possible. Snaps and cracks fill the air, and wood explodes around you.

Realization dawns as more should-be-fear-turned-lust pours through your body and expands beyond it, filling the sky around you with a murky darkness. The power of that emotion propels you further, sending you and Yoongi far above the landscape to suspend over the entirety of the Realm of Darkness, leaving a streamer of smoke-like essence in your wake.

Yoongi throws his head back, finally relenting from the kiss. His broad chest heaves against yours, and his red eyes are wild as they roll manically before landing on you. “How is this possible?” you pant, hands gripping the muscles of his shoulders tightly.

“Anything is possible here,” he whispers fervently before spinning you so fast your vision blurs. The horizon spans as far as you can see around you. You and Yoongi are hundreds of feet higher than even the tallest mountain peak. Everything is a monochrome grey, black, or in-between. A jagged line of mountains rear to your right while inky streams and rivers zig zag to your left. It’s a hideously beautiful display that contradicts all scenic views you’ve ever seen, yet is better than all of them combined.

“Oh, God,” you whimper when Yoongi forces your legs wide and slots his hips between them from behind. Shadows billow around you, charged with energy that crackles and sizzles, barely restrained from being unleashed to wreak untold havoc.

Thin fingers slide around to cup the front of your throat, giving a none too gentle squeeze. Yoongi snarls, “There is no God here. We are the gods!” His declaration is punctuated by the head of his cock prodding against your sopping cunt. This new body is already eager to pleasure Yoongi and receive pleasure in kind.

His hips kick forward, and you feel every delicious ridge and ripple along his thick shaft. It feels like he invades the pit of your stomach, filling you to the brink. It’s a rush of wicked delight, pure erotic rapture.

You moan again, this time invoking the only name left on your tongue, “Yoongi!”

“I’ve been looking forward to fucking you like this for five years,” he grunts, emphasizing the words with his hips pumping against your ass in brutal strokes. “Claiming you wholly, decorating the world with our combined shadows. Look how they writhe for you, waiting for you to command them. Let go.”

Your eyes roll from side to side, taking in the dark, undulating forms stretching wide around you. With each prick of pleasure Yoongi insights in your body, they branch and roil further out, creating the foundation for your own personal bedlam. 

Like a bounty won at the end of a hunt, Yoongi ravishes your body with his. He’s brutal, unrelenting and wanton. The hand on your throat tugs with every slam of his hips, bowing your back and forcing you to peer out at the Kingdom begging for your rule. Darkness beseeches you, screaming for your glory and power as it pours out and blankets the sky.

Your world narrows to one pin point of coherency. Yoongi. He is nothing and everything all at once. He is the beginning and the end—fear, loathing, lust, and madness…through it all, he is infinite. And he’s yours.

With one final, shuddering breath you let go; welcoming the darkness once and for all.

“Yes.” The word, whispered from your parted lips, is sucked away with the maelstrom that detonates around and within you.

You barely hear the guttural, primal roar that emits from Yoongi as he buries himself to the hilt and fills you with his terrible darkness. You shatter into a multitude of shards, a glittering storm that dances through the ether, sparking and catching on the thin membrane that stretches between the realms. All it takes is one weak point, a small breach in the barrier, and everything falls apart.

It’s glorious, feeling yourself everywhere all at once. Your body is still fluttering around Yoongi, sucking and welcoming his release into your soul. But, your consciousness is spread wide, bleeding through the nexus of this realm and the one you once called home.

The mortal realm bows to your will. You can feel the beings of the Realm of Darkness funneling toward the broken gateways, pouring through to consume and conquer with the whisper of your glory on their tongues. Fear reigns supreme, consuming everything in its path as you expand your hold on the darkness.

“My Queen of Darkness,” the ephemeral coo caresses your ear, phantom lips brushing along your shadows. Yoongi’s darkness blends with yours, adding to the pulse that seeps to all corners of existence. “No longer will you fear, as you are fear itself…glorious, neverending fear.”

◅ Back to Main Master List ©️   2023-10-23 ColorMePurplex2

[lo1k-diamonds]

SX Seoul Series | Yoongi Entry 💜 Sugar Rush Ride

PAIRING: YoongixReader

SUMMARY: You produced a song based on your hidden desires for your fellow producer and promised yourself that tonight, things would change. You were done pining after him, but then he arrived at the listening party.

WORD COUNT: 12.6k

GENRE: coworkers (mutually) pining to lovers

RATING: R (explicit)

WARNINGS: explicit, pwp (porn w/ plot really), drunk fight (but you sober up...sort of), bratty reader, rough but Yoongi is pro at aftercare, fingerfucking, face-fucking, edging, spankings, his hand is on your neck a lot (am I forgetting something?)

(You can also read it on AO3)

A.N. This is based on the song of the same title by TXT 🔥 It was not planned and maybe it has been done before, but it was too good to miss 😁

Masterlist | Masterpost | Scroll my stories on Tumblr | Schedule and WIPs

Yoongi parked his car underground in a private parking lot before stepping outside into the night in Itaewon. It was crowded as usual, but he paid no mind to the passersby — he had somewhere to be.

He reached the steps that led into a famous club in the neighborhood and entered below the red lines warming up the humidity into steam: SX.

He was giving away his coat when the music from the backroom hit him, the pop music with the codename temptation resonating in the air, and in his ribcage. He stepped towards it confidently, unbothered by the instant boom of noise that hit him once the door opened and closed again behind him. No, nothing would bother him until he found what he was looking for.

He scanned the room attentively, the darkness crossed punctually and rhythmically by the flashes of lights to the beat of the songs he helped produce himself. All but one song that ended up being the main track, the reason why he had rushed to be at the listening party tonight.

He got to the bar and looked around again; he saw lots of people he knew, the artists included. None had seen him yet, so he took the chance to search even more carefully. And finally, his eyes fell on you. You were listening attentively as you held your hair to the side and someone, a man spoke into your ear above the noise. Then you burst out laughing, shoulders and chest trembling with excitement, and your hand landed on the man’s chest. Not in a smack, not to push him away, just subtly placed there in an intimate gesture, or an invitation thereof.

Yoongi was by your side before he knew it. The man with you looked up with a silent question and you flinched and looked back, eyes instantly widening in surprise.

“Yoongi! You’re back!”

You launched your arms around his neck to pull him into a hug, and he immediately knew you had alcohol in your system. Despite this, he reacted the only way he could be expected to — he wrapped a protective arm around you and looked straight into the eyes of that dude trying his luck.

“Right on time,” you grinned when you stepped back. “Inhyuk, this is Yoongi, the producer I was telling you about.”

The guy bowed and said something polite, but Yoongi wasn’t listening. You had stepped to stand beside the guy and his hand had comfortably set on your waist. For a second, his sole thought was, Since when? But then he cooled down.

“I see. Well, enjoy the party. I’ll see you later,” he told you with his eyes set on yours and you got the message.

But you didn’t want to worry about that right now, so when Inhyuk pulled you by the waist to talk to you a bit closer, you didn’t flinch. You smiled and agreed to have another drink while the crowd around you listened and enjoyed the album you helped produce. You were proud of yourself, it was the fruit of your first year of work with—

The main track started and the crowd cheered as it did every time it played. Your eyes watered as Inhyuk congratulated you and clinked his drink to yours but as you drank, there was heat building inside of you. It was funny to hear the lyrics you wrote being sung back at you and fit perfectly at that moment. But then you chuckled, as your eyes fell on Min Yoongi. Your thoughts would always stop as soon as he was back near you. That would never change.

Yet you looked up and smiled at Inhyuk, giddy with your drink and with excitement. You made a vow when you decided to let this song be performed and sung — it was you putting your feelings into your work to get rid of them. That was the deal.

Inhyuk smiled mischievously at you as if he couldn’t believe, but didn’t disapprove, of the song's lyrics speaking so openly about desire, about opening locked doors into seeing stars and asking for more. And you kept smiling and drinking. Because you made a deal with yourself and maybe tonight was the perfect time to go into a new direction.

The song was only three minutes long, but it drove Yoongi to a corner. He gripped his tonic water and faced the bar while the music kept calling to him, Come here more, let’s play more.

Just like the first time he heard it and was covered in goosebumps, wild thoughts coming to him that he had to quickly water down. He sighed; it didn’t stop him from flying back as soon as possible to talk to you about it. Confront you, more like.

He turned to the side to find you by the bar having shots with that guy, and that was it. The full album had played, you had your moment in the spotlight as you should, the artists were having a blast alongside everyone else, and he had had enough of seeing you so close to some guy.

You were on your fourth tequila shot when you felt an arm extend behind you to reach the bar, and you shivered. Not because it was cold; you were sweating from the drinks and the energy of the crowd. No, it was because you knew who it was, even if the arm didn’t touch you.

“We should go,” his voice was steady near your ear even though your head was spinning a little.

“The night is still young!” Inhyuk said as he grinned and grabbed another shot glass, waiting for you to do the same, but despite your giddiness, you hesitated. 

You looked up to Yoongi and saw his neutral beautiful lines, and you understood what he was doing.

The guy saw he was losing you, so he moved closer to get your attention, “I can take you home.”

He said it with amusement, like a tease, and you grinned. You were taken by the energy between you two; you both knew where that was going. But then a breath being slowly heaved behind you shook your foundations and you looked down. Yoongi was just doing his part of the deal, but suddenly you were fucking pissed. He couldn’t possibly understand that you needed to be with someone, anyone other than him. Desperately, before you’d fucking combust!

But he was your coworker, the genius producer of your label. And despite everything, you didn’t want to burn a bridge. Inhyuk was not that great anyway.

You shrugged almost innocently, “Maybe next time. It was nice meeting you.”

Yoongi pointed so that you’d go ahead to the exit and you did. Yet with every step, something was bubbling up your throat. There was a lump there, blocking you from voicing it while you grabbed your coats, walked the cold night to his car, and got in to be on your way.

The whole ride you argued with yourself that this was for the best. You shouldn’t have sex with someone after so many drinks, that was not how it was supposed to go. But maybe that was what you needed to have the courage to just move on. To want another man as desperately, and not the one driving you home right now. You needed it, you needed to go crazy and do something you wouldn’t normally do. You needed the regret, to stop playing safe, to stop believing your heart knew what was best for you when all it did was set on someone who saw you as nothing but a colleague.

When you arrived, he entered the private parking of your apartment building and parked swiftly. It made your stomach bubble further with anger, he was just so used to taking you home. That was the deal. Well, screw that.

“Thanks, good night.”

You pushed the door open and peeled yourself away, closing it with a bham only to seek support in the car instantly. Your legs were wobbly, the world was spinning and you cursed in irritation. It was fine before, why was it so difficult now?

His door opened and closed, the car beeped as it locked, then his steps echoed to get to you. And everything was like needles prickling your patience. He stood next to you to help you and you didn’t know what you wanted more: to scream at him or to just disappear.

But he placed his hand on your waist firmly, walked you to the lobby and the elevator, and even dialed your code to enter your apartment. It infuriated you — it reminded you of all the times over the last year that he had done his part of the deal. That he had taken you home safe and sound, and still never seen you for anything more while you pined helplessly.

So you tried to reach your living room without his help and stumbled very quickly, yet a firm grip on your arm prevented you from falling face flat. Normally, you would have blushed, thanked him, and let the politeness and decorum dictate your interactions, but not now.

You pulled your arm loose, “I don’t need a chaperone!”

“And I don't need you to fall and break a leg.”

You threw your jacket and purse over your couch finally with a frustrated huff. The world was spinning and annoying you so fucking much. You needed to scream at him once and for all and be done with it, why couldn’t it stand still?

“Why did you interfere?”

“What do you mean?” He was calmly taking his shoes off after hanging his coat by the entrance and his placidness irked you.

“I was having a good time!”

You barely saw the line crossing his face, “He was no good for you.”

“What? Why?!”

“He just wasn’t,” he stated, walking further inside your apartment like he knew it, and he did. He’d normally stay for a chat after bringing you home and made sure you were okay.

“But why?!” You insisted, eyes so wide they looked twice their size, and still the room was shaky. “What was so wrong with him that—”

“He was trying to get you drunk,” he almost scoffed as he reached your kitchen and started looking around for something.

“So?” You tried following him, annoyed that he was not paying attention to you.

He found a cup and right next to it what he was looking for. He took a black coffee capsule and put both things next to your coffee machine. “He just wanted sex.”

He seemed annoyed now as he prepped the coffee and you threw your hands in the air, “I fucking want sex!”

He paused and looked at you, at your wide eyes and red cheeks. And you held your breath, swallowing dryly. Did you just yell that at Min Yoongi? At your genius coproducer?

“You're drunk.”

He pressed the button to draw an expresso from the machine, and you felt like a volcano about to erupt.

“I’m not drunk!!” He didn’t look at you and you gripped your hair with a frustrated scream. “I’m just not only a fucking worker bee, okay?! I have needs, I want things! So what, sex is too much for you to handle or som—”

A look was all it took for you to feel your guts freeze in place. You were so attuned to this fucking man that his slightest hint of disapproval hit you like an icicle. But it wasn’t just that, it was something else. Disappointment?

And you revolted hard against it; he had no right to make you feel this way. “Then what’s the problem?! I can’t want it? Because I’m a woman or something?”

He took the coffee cup and placed it in front of you on the kitchen counter, “Drink it.”

You ignored it, “I didn’t think you were a prude or conservative, but this is me.” You stepped back and fought the traces of the spinning walls vehemently. “I want things. More than just make good music, I’m not just my work.” He was listening, he was looking at you, but all he did was push the cup the slightest in your direction. And you snorted, “Hell, that’s why my music is good. Because I want— I want things.”

You couldn’t look at him, only at his feet. You thought you wanted to scream your frustration at him, but now you realized that was pointless. It wouldn’t matter. He wasn’t into you anyway.

“We’re not talking unless you’re sober.”

You raised your eyes and his coolness hardened you. Right. You’d get a slap on the wrist for getting drunk at the listening party of the album you fucking produced. For wanting to sleep with another producer. For not being professional? Who the fuck knew why. And maybe sober you’d care about losing your dream, but right now you were just fucking done.

“Right, whatever,” you turned to head to your bedroom. “I’ll take a shower, we can talk tomorrow.”

Yoongi saw you walk a bit shakily but firmly toward your bedroom and then he sighed. He considered for a moment to do as you wished and leave, but he didn’t want to leave you alone. Selfishly, he didn’t want to wait for tomorrow. He was restless, he needed to talk to you about it. And to do that, he needed you sober.

He grabbed your coffee cup and knocked on the ajar door with his eyes glued to the floor. He called your name and you scoffed.

“You’re taking our deal too much to the letter,” your voice sounded strained and he closed his free hand into a fist. “You don’t need to worry about—”

He heard noises and he didn’t think twice; he pushed the door open and found you almost fallen to the floor trying to take your dress off. You huffed in annoyance; you should have sat on the bed but then how would the dress pass under—

A firm hand hoisted you up as if you were as light as a feather and you came face to face with him. The man in your dreams, in your mind, making you scream in your bed just at the thought of him. Making you crazy. 

“I’m fine,” you said, looking down. “I can handle myself. You don’t need to bring me home and make sure I don’t—” 

Your voice wavered, what were you— 

Your eyes filled with tears, but maybe that was exactly what needed to happen, “Yeah, let’s stop that. Our deal? Let’s end it. You don’t need to bring me home and watch over me. I know I’m a woman in a men-dominated company, but I’m not a child.”

He sighed and stepped away and your heart cracked, leaving you to hide your face with one hand and try to press your chest with the other. You knew that to move on you had to push him away, but damn did it sting and—

The scent of coffee invaded your nose and you raised your hand from over your eyes. He was holding the coffee cup in front of you.

“Stop for a second and drink it. Then, we’ll talk.”

You looked for the sincerity in his eyes, and of course, you found it. So you took the cup and chugged the expresso as if it had been just another tequila shot. Then you lowered your arm and looked at him, trying to sense if that changed anything. It didn’t really, not for you.

“Did you hear what I said?”

His lips twitched, “I heard you, but you’re not hearing me. Sober, I said.”

You shrugged, “You said drink, I did. So now we talk. No more deal. No more keeping me safe, no more watching over me or bringing me home. I need to— I need to let it all out.”

His lips pursed for a second but then he voiced quietly, “I’m listening.”

“I don’t know what else to say,” you shrugged and almost laughed at yourself. “I told you I want things.”

“You write about what you want.” You hummed. “So what is that main track?”

“What I want.”

You were looking at him, a void in your mind all of a sudden, but he hesitated. You said you wanted sex and the song was about desire. Maybe he was reading it wrong.

“What do you want?”

“It’s not a what.”

“Is it a who?”

Your mouth dried, so you nodded. You were staring right at the object of your desire but he looked confused.

He scratched his head and then tried, “Did you— Did you use those words on purpose?”

“What words?”

“What w—” He seemed bewildered, “My stage name. You used my stage name. Sugar? Was that on purpose?”

For a split second, you were frozen, livid, shocked, and then laughter bubbled out of you, “I thought I had been so clever about it. Saying sugar instead of suga.” He was staring at you and his inexpression only led you to push the air out of your lungs, “I know, you don’t have to say it. You won't touch me, even if pigs fly. I know that.”

“That's not true.”

You tilted your head, then laughed some more, “Yes, it is. You don't even see me as a woman, I'm just another producer.”

“That's also not true.”

“Right,” you chuckled. “Let me give you reasons to walk out that door right now. I not only wanted to sleep with you but wrote a whole main track about wanting you. About being dazed, overwhelmed by desire, wanting just more. Give it a listen. You know I struggle with titles, but the name of the song was the first thing I had.”

You chuckled again and turned around, rubbing your face for a moment. It was out. You didn’t care too much if anyone else knew, and if anyone had thought of it, they had been smart enough to stay quiet. But now he knew, and there was no going back. Sugar rush ride. You laughed again. You stood by that tile.

“I—” His voice sounded unsure for the first time and you turned to face him. “I don’t— Was it just a rush? You felt a rush at the thought of me and wrote that?”

“What difference does it make?”

“It makes a world of a difference,” he insisted, eyes set on you though he hadn’t moved an inch yet. “I still haven’t heard you say what you want now.”

“What I want?” You were incredulous, “Are you even listening? I’ve been saying nothing else! What?” He was unmoving, but for the first time, you could swear you saw his eyes glistening, and you were out of filters. “I want to be with you. You to fuck me already.” You shivered, the strength of your own words working against you. “I have since the day we met. I forgot I had an ex and was heartbroken to finger myself to the thought of you so many times I lost count.” He opened his mouth but you didn’t let him speak, “Shut up. I know what you'll say. I’ve wasted a year of my life. We're kind of friends and we work together. I know all that,” you huffed, exhausted. “So just leave.”

You turned to get to your ensuite bathroom and this time succeeded in pulling the dress out of your body, letting it fall to the ground with a rustle. You turned to reach the makeup remover over your counter and almost missed the way he was still standing in your room, looking at you. You blinked as you faced him, and your nipples hardened without your control with the goosebumps navigating your skin. You had nothing on, you rarely did in events like those. You used it to boost your self-esteem and feel sexy, and now you guessed he knew it too.

You removed your makeup relatively quickly and were curious to look back, and he was gone. You looked down with tears pooling in your eyes; but of course. Why did it all just have to come out of your mouth like that? Now he knew your deepest darkest secrets and would never want to work together again in the future. Great.

You stepped into the shower and let the warmth wash away your worries. You were not a child. You had feelings and wants. They were perhaps misplaced, but you didn’t harm anyone. You sighed; still, maybe it was best to look for a new job in the morning.

Once you made peace with that, your mind wandered to greener pastures, to more heavenly thoughts. You reviewed the expression he had as you told him crudely what you wanted, and it was good. Tense. In your wildest fantasies maybe it could be even a little possessive. And the thought of Min Yoongi getting possessive over you turned you on like nothing ever could.

Your hand trailed south along your skin and avoided the water. Your undeniable arousal made you chuckle. You had just told him you touched yourself thinking of him, and there you were again, like clockwork. He never told you not to, he didn’t act disgusted or look at you sideways, so suddenly you felt egged on.

You tilted your ass up and out of the water and spread your folds greedily, closing your eyes to think back to his dark eyes while you were naked in front of him. It was as if he wasn’t thinking, he was just looking. You didn’t see his eyes running up and down your body, but you didn’t have to. No way he would not be curious, even if he had walked out. 

His leaving stung but fuck, was he hot. Now he knew you thought of him and what you did while thinking of him. Your heart stung for a second with the thought that you would lose his friendship, but you got back on track. You were horny and he had created that mess. You tried to kindly tell him to leave so many times, it wasn’t your fault that he lingered until you were spurting the deepest truths and stripping naked to shower. 

And now he knew. He knew you didn't like wearing underwear when you had formal events, how sensitive your nipples were to the cold, and that you had a small blue birthmark at the end of your back. Fuck. He knew you were a dirty little whore fingering yourself to the thought of his cock buried deep—

Two arms wrapped around you and you moaned, too immersed in your fantasy to be startled. You were thinking about his arms around you, his chest strong for your back to take support, hands trailing down your body to explore with long fingers ready to spell your demise so easily—

His fingers were next to yours cupping your sex and you gasped, squirming away only to be pressed against his firm chest.

“No, continue,” his voice was a taunt as his free hand seemed indecisive about where to settle on your body. “You want to touch yourself? Go on.”

You stammered his name but his fingers were quickly learning from yours how to trace your heat, spread your slick, and make you tremble. You were shaking, half embarrassed, half feverish, until his other hand finally settled on groping your breast harshly and you moaned. You moaned with a hiss dragging with how much more you wanted, with your ass bucking into him only to rub more to get a better feeling of his hard cock on your ass. He was clothed, you could feel it, but the thought of him wanting this was driving you up the wall.

He was coming to you while you showered, entering it with clothes on just to reach you, grab you, touch you, and make you moan. There was no hiding it now, no possible misunderstanding. He had fingers rubbing your clit while his other hand squeezed your tit harshly, making your legs weak. Nothing was forcing him to stay, to touch you, to listen to you moan.

You bucked your hips again, you were so close to coming it was unstoppable. Yet a logical thought still tried to push through, “Are you sure about this? We're friends— We work tog—”

If only you weren’t rubbing your ass on his crotch to feel him better, to get tighter, to force his fingers on your clit to chase you.

His reply was a whisper to your ear over your wet hair, “You said what you wanted. You can feel how much I agree.”

Your walls squeezed, you were so ready, “You— You want this?”

His hips pushed into you once and you almost fell apart. “Don’t pretend you can’t feel it. I’m asking myself how you never noticed.”

You gripped his hand over your chest and he released the pressure, instantly making you squirm and whine in a complaint. You pressed his hand and he squeezed again, hearing attentively how your moan pitched wantonly. He hummed near your ear, nuzzling your wet skin with a smile adorning his lips. So that was how you liked it.

“No, I—” Your breath hitched with how he was working you and for the second time you thought you would fall apart, but the intensity reeled back to allow you to think. “Not like this. I noticed you treated me differently but I thought it was because I was the only girl in the studio—”

You staggered with a gasp, your body rushing a cold wave under your skin to contrast with the warm water of the shower, but again the sensation eased as the seconds ticked away. And you knew then that it was him, keeping you on the edge and not letting you fall apart. Him with his smooth fingers and nuzzling behind your ear.

“No, not because of that,” his voice was tense as his lips ghosted over your wet neck. “I was… charmed,” he admitted with a chuckle, and when you bucked your hips, he gripped you closer. “But I thought you saw me as a friend.” The thought alone made his lip pull in annoyance, but the slick covering his fingers at your heat soothed him, “I could have done this so many times if you had just asked.”

He bit down on the tender flesh between your shoulder and neck and you screamed, the sting mixing with your pleasure so viscerally that you could have cum on it alone. Only he sensed it too and moved his hand away, dragging yours along so you couldn’t finish it yourself, and you laughed quietly. He was suckling on your skin with meticulous precision and you could only grin widely, euphoric sparks flying out of control inside your belly.

“You could have said something too,” you sounded like you were whining, but you couldn’t stop yourself. He was now licking where he had just marked you and you were trembling, legs so weak it was embarrassing.

He let go and nuzzled along your neck to your spine in between your wet hair, “I didn’t want you to feel pressured. You either want it or you don’t. I thought you’d say something.”

You chuckled, “I wouldn’t ever. You should have known.”

He hummed and leaned back ever so slightly to look at the curve of your ass pressed against him. Then his hand trailed up, lashed by the shower while gently feeling and pressing your soft skin. He couldn’t believe he almost missed this.

“We have to work on that, then.”

You were still smiling when you let your head fall back to his shoulder, “If you did as I said—”

“I'd be out of here without ever getting to touch you,” his annoyance was clear in his voice, and even in the way his fingers pressed less gently. “Without knowing what’s on your mind. No, you,” he wrapped his arm across your torso to gently reach the base of your neck and you looked up, giving him more space. “You are not in charge here.”

He couldn’t have known the way you were grinning. You just let yourself fall further into his embrace, his hand settling on the base of your neck in a way you found comforting. Then he turned you gently to the side and your back hit the cold wall. A hiss came out of your lips quickly, but you were still smiling. Even as his dark eyes scanned you for your reaction, with one hand keeping you still by the neck. You were waiting with a familiar ease on your features, and he relaxed. That was enough.

Suddenly, your feet parted and you were surprised. He had used his foot to spread your legs and the way his free hand was tracing your wet body like he owned it shortcircuited your brain.

“I want to know what this dirty mind of yours has been keeping from me.”

You could hear a hint of eagerness and it was enough, “I won't tell you.”

“You will.” His tone was so sure, like he held the world at his beckoning, that you trembled. You were sure then he would hold yours, turn it upside down, inside out, and you’d love every second of it. “You will tell me every dream of yours, every fantasy, every little filthy fleeting thought. Then maybe we can do something about it.”

“Maybe?” You were eager, his hand was at your lower stomach but seemingly chose to ignore where you ached most.

“Maybe. If that's something you want.”

“I do, I want everything.”

His eyes jumped to yours; he needed to know if that was a spur-of-the-moment blurted line, or if you meant it. All he found were eager glistening eyes. “Everything?”

“Everything,” you confirmed, eyes staring at him like you were seeing stars.

For a split second, he considered that this could not be what he thought it was. Maybe you were still drunk and just talking big, maybe you had no idea of what you were saying. But the way you didn’t waver, even as he considered pulling the plug on everything despite being a millimeter away from snapping and making his thoughts come true did sway him. He brushed your jaw once so tenderly and you leaned into his touch. He’d take it easy while he discovered you, there was no rush.

“Alright,” he voiced and lowered his hand. “Show me first.”

“Show you what?” You were eager but you were starting to shiver.

“What you do when you think of me.”

“Didn’t you just catch me doing it?”

“You’re going to look at me this time.”

“Look?” You tilted your head slightly.

“Eyes on me,” his eyebrows twitched.

“Only my eyes?”

“And your thoughts.”

You grinned and looked away but his instant grip over your chin made you look up.

“You sure you want everything?”

You huffed with a sly smile and let your head fall back to the wall, “I’m sure.” His dark gaze was skeptical and your grin widened, “Oh, I want everything, sugar. Be sure not to hold back.”

He looked down to follow your movements and you almost laughed. Your hand was rubbing your clit so you could control your pleasure while his eyes roamed your body, the doubt lingering on his features. You could laugh again, but you didn’t. The way he doubted you was funny because he had no idea how crazy you were about him, but then it occurred to you that you also didn’t know the first thing about him. Did he like to watch? Would he guide you or leave you adrift? He had edged you three times already, did he notice? Did he do it on purpose to drive you crazy? 

Would he do it again?

Where exactly was his line? He was quiet now, eating you with his eyes and absorbing every little detail, from the way you breathed to your tongue peeking through your lips, to the way you gathered your arousal to coat your clit. You gasped ever so softly and his eyes instantly jumped to your face, and your lips twitched. You had him. How was it that you had the powerful Min Yoongi?

“What is going on in there?”

His voice was soothing and low, soft as a caress, and you smiled. “You.”

“Me how?”

“You told me to think about you,” your fingers hastened and you grinned.

“I told you I want to know your thoughts.”

You hummed with a smile and eyed him from head to toe shamelessly. You knew what he told you, what he wanted, but what about what you wanted?

Your fingers picked up the pace as your eyes gained a sly glim, and you thought he saw it. If he didn’t, he at least heard the wet sounds echoing in the bathroom.

“Do it slowly.”

You obeyed, so painfully slowly that your eyelashes fluttered, but what truly got you was the soothing of his features. He looked endeared, all because you did as he told you. He looked so sweet, so adorable, so loveable. You wanted to squeeze his precious cheeks.

So you reached forward to touch his face, but he slapped your hand away harshly, “No.” You bit your lip not to smile but his eyes were just hardening. “I’m still waiting.”

“For?”

You couldn’t help your grin as you squirmed ever so slightly against the wall. His precious dark eyes were so focused on you.

“Me how?”

But he wasn’t paying attention. “You right now.”

It didn’t surprise you that he didn’t become impatient, “Just me standing here?”

Your fingers were ever so quicker, “Stiff as a stick trying to control something that isn’t yours yet.”

His eyes glimmed and your tongue peeked out again to hide your laugh. It was fun seeing him being careful, but when would he actually touch you?

“Didn’t I say slower?”

You instantly did, and the recoil of the feeling had you fluttering your eyes closed.

“Eyes on me,” he sounded angrier now, closer too.

You did open your eyes but pursed your lips; there was still half an arm's distance between you. If he wouldn’t get the hint, then you’d have to do it yourself.

“Strip,” you asked, swallowing dryly.

He scoffed and instantly looked down, “I said slow.”

“If you want it slow, do it yourself.”

It happened so fast you couldn’t process it. Like a rubberband snapping, his hand darted to your neck pulling and pushing hard enough that your head banged the wall but not harshly enough that it hurt you. It did daze you for a second, but your lips just formed a grin until you laughed. 

Two could play that game, apparently, and he looked so fucking hot when he was mad. You loved that his hand stayed put like a necklace, a reminder that he wasn’t touching your heat, but he owned it. Along with your thoughts and your pleasure, he owned you. And that would have been enough to snap you, but what about him?

So you closed your eyes again, blatantly going against what he wanted, and were not surprised when his free hand darted to pinch your hardened nipple. You moaned instantly, facing him with the same challenge, meeting dark eyes that seemed to have given up on making you talk, but not on making you do as you were told.

So every time you blinked, he pinched you. Your nipples, your sides, your ass, earning moans every time, but nothing more, until he snapped again. He jumped on you and you just made your neck more available for him to latch on and bite. Your moan instantly pitched, and it finally seemed worth it. He was squeezing your tits and biting you while you played yourself to his presence, and he finally was involved in it too.

“Don’t come.”

The joke was that you wanted to do as he said, but you couldn’t anymore. Your moans were higher now, just like your daze, and in a second—

He yanked your hand away, “That’s enough.”

“Why? Didn’t you want to see what happens when I think of you?”

Your voice was light but your chest heaving gave your state away, and the more he kissed and bit down your neck, the worse it became. You needed him, needed more than just his thoughts or presence. You gripped his shoulders to bring him closer, you needed—

A whimper pushed out of you as you hid in his neck, but he didn’t stop. You were sure that had to be at least three fingers just pushing into you roughly with no preparation other than your repeated edging. No preparation came, whatsoever, because as soon as they were in, he started pumping his fingers in and out of you at a vicious speed. 

You instantly lost your grip on reality, though not on his shoulders, as even the air seemed to still inside your lungs. The sultry sounds echoing around you didn’t just come from his digits beckoning you closer insanely fast, but also from your whimpers. Because there was a fire burning you from the inside out with every moan as he bit and licked closer to your ear. As your nails sank through his shirt to reach his skin, your legs trembled, and the wall behind you became scorching hot while he pressed you to it.

From deep within your frenzy you couldn’t hear his growl near your ear, or feel the way his drool dripped down your neck or his fingers dag at your skin. He could hear you, pitchy moans quickly becoming an addictive sound, yet this time it was different. Your cunt was squeezing around him like a vice, and the harder it made for him to finger fuck you, the more he wanted to.

“Don’t come,” he grunted right under your ear, but you couldn’t register. You just moaned even more desperately, gripping him to you so hard he thought he’d melt. “You’ll cum when I tell you to.”

He was trying to hold on to something when he pulled away to look at you, but he could see you weren’t listening. You were flushed and panting hastily, avid with your nerves on fire. You could only see him and you had been waiting too long.

“Please,” you sounded a second away from breaking into tears and he admired you for it at that moment. You were so strong for him. And so pliable.

So he kissed your cheek gently and said your name once, taking pleasure from rolling it over his tongue. “Go on, cum.”

And it was all you needed to snap, tears coming to your eyes as your hips convulsed and searched for friction. You didn’t think you needed it because your walls were tensing, and again and again while desperate cries fell from your lips. His fingers calmed down inside you, his breath the same temperature as your blazing cheeks, and you thought a sweet blanket of lethargy would cover you soon.

Only he never stopped fucking you with his fingers, and so you whimpered and tried to push him away weakly.

“Don’t come down,” he murmured to your cheek. “Stay, don’t let it go.” 

Your nails sank on his shoulder blades again as you squinted your eyes shut. Tears roamed your eyes as you tried breathing and pushing through your sensitivity. You could handle your clit being sensitive, but inside you, that was a whole different story. You felt like you had been pounded to perfection, only to be further kneaded into sensations you had never felt before.

You looked at him, eyes droopy with whines coming out of your mouth. Why weren’t you surprised?

“Give me another one,” he asked gently, but you didn’t answer. 

How could you, he twisted his hand to reach into you deeper and your whole core burned. He was relighting a fire you thought had been extinguished, only to leave you breathless, dripping slick down his hand as you moaned between gritted teeth. 

So beautiful, so tense. He wanted to release you. 

“Look at me,” he asked softly, and you did. His eyes gave you a tenderness that made your heart convulse. How could he act sweetly like that, as if half of his hand wasn’t pounding your g-spot to bits? “You’re so good. Doing so well, giving me everything I want.” Your only reply was your moans, but you were listening. “I need you to focus for me.” He leaned to whisper in your ear, “Focus on the tension. You’re so tight around my fingers. Relax, don’t fight it. That’s it, move with me,” his voice was sweeter, and you softened. It was as if he was in it with you. As if he could feel it too. As if he was fucking you and not just sticking his fingers inside you. “You feel so good,” his whisper felt like the highest form of praise, and your moan pitched, melting alongside your nerves. He was so happy at the sound as he traced his lips down your cheek to whisper to the corner of your mouth, “Come with me.”

You moved with him once, twice, seeing in his eyes how much he was seeing and feeling you before looking at his lips, so close. He brushed yours ever so slightly in the hint of a kiss, moving with you as if you were jumping on his cock and not on his digits, and it was what pushed you. You pulled him closer and he let his mouth fall to yours, and your orgasm instantly started, forcing you to swerve so you could moan and breathe as you disintegrated. 

He let you feel your ecstasy to the fullest, biting his lip and feeding off of your release as if it were oxygen. Your trembling lips, your nails that marked his shoulders, your throbbing walls squeezing and gripping around him in sweet delight. All of you like a charming melody, sweet and utopic. Your moans were music until the very last, and by then, he had to taste it.

His free hand cupped your cheek and coaxed you into a sloppy kiss that you instantly reacted to. You were still not there, though, too dazed from the high to realize it fully; until you did. And you gasped. Yoongi’s tongue was licking at your bottom lip gently as if you were a delicacy that needed to be tasted slowly, and you couldn’t believe it.

You parted your lips to let him in and he pressed you even closer, enclosing you in such a euphoric moment you thought you’d pop like a firework. Like a cocoon filled with dazed butterflies with nowhere to go. He was kissing you and your wildest dreams seemed to have just come true. Tears were still hanging onto your waterline, and when he pressed your lips to move away and breathe, you were scared that it had all been a dream.

“So good, you’re so good.”

His voice was calm and tender, and it gave you the courage to open your eyes. He was so close with his eyes roaming your features swiftly, taking in the smallest detail as if he was finally free to. Then he smiled at your wonder, and you were convinced it was a dream.

That notion didn’t dissipate as he reached to the side to grab a towel and dry you with gentleness, enveloping you in the fluffy material as if it were a cloud. You sniffled, drained from the energy that you had just burned away and woozy from his sweet pats as he tried to dry the excess water out of your long hair.

Not even when he took your hand and pulled you back into your bedroom did the haze recede. Instead, you saw him pull the duvet open for you to get in the bed and you lost the towel and got in without a thought. Once you settled in, you did have your first thought: where was he going?

But he was back soon, and you knew in the back of your mind that he was just making the place tidy: getting the coffee cup from the floor to put it on the table, stopping the shower, and shutting the lights. Then he grabbed your towel from the floor and dried his own hair with hastened movements before throwing it aside. His eyes fell on you and your own picked up on the wet spots on his clothes. He was probably cold too.

“Come here,” you voiced hoarsely, staying in a ball to conserve the heat. He instantly stepped to you, but you pouted, “Clothes off first.”

He blinked and looked down, but then smirked and did as you asked. Of course, he couldn’t make your bed humid and uncomfortable with his clothes. Your eyes were on him, unable to separate from the soft unblemished skin revealing itself more and more. His muscles moved as he bent down, wide shoulders and soft biceps trying to hide the strength he had. But you just observed quietly, tucked in the duvet. You could still feel his fingers inside and all around you, pressing and owning you easily. But you could keep a secret, his power and strength were only for you to know.

He lowered his pants and boxers and your eyes glued to him like a magnet. He was hard and pretty, with protruding veins on a thick length that had your imagination doing cartwheels.

Your thoughts were interrupted quickly when he opened the duvet to get beside you and you shivered. You opened your arms and legs to welcome him, and in your haze, you suddenly thought that it all felt so domestic.

He grabbed your hand and pulled it away to tell you he wanted to lie behind you and you agreed instantaneously. His arms wrapped around you just as fast as you rubbed your ass to his crotch, and he chuckled as he pressed a kiss to your head.

“You must be tired.”

“No,” your voice was a low whimper as his warmth relaxed your nerve ends.

“No?” He sounded amused and soft and you had to admit that his chest was the fluffiest pillow.

“No…”

You didn't want to, but you were slowly dozing off. Slowly, and a bit more with every soothing breath you took together.

You shook and forced your eyes open, “I don't want to fall asleep.”

“Why?”

Your heart beamed and your lips curved; he was still holding you with his mouth to your head.

“Because… it will end,” you admitted, falling deeper into his touch as he nuzzled your hair. Suddenly you realized his boner was half gone. “You didn't come, I haven't touched you yet. I don't want to miss the opportunity.”

“We have tomorrow.”

“You might change your mind.”

“So can you.”

“I won't,” you insisted with a hint of annoyance as you twisted to look back at him.

“I won't either,” he promised calmly, glistening eyes set on you.

Your eyes were closing, the comfort and lethargy were pulling you away. Still, you focused on his lips, “Kiss me.”

He met your lips with no hesitation and you let that sweet touch soothe you. When he pulled away and kissed your nose, you slipped asleep.

When you woke up in the morning, two things made you alert: your soreness and the lack of space. You groaned with the sweet throb between your legs but frowned because something was over you. Turning back, the most precious image graced your vision and made stars twinkle in your eyes.

Min Yoongi was sleeping as quietly as a mouse with an arm around your shoulders as if to keep you tucked in. You brushed his hair aside and his nose twitched, making you instantly melt. Why did he look so sweet asleep? How could he be such a beast as a musician, a genius producer, and a darling in private?

You kept brushing his hair soothingly, thinking that intimately he was not a darling. No, not cute, not sweet. If that throb between your legs meant something, it was that Yoongi was the kind that owned. He owned his music, his process, the studio room, and you, for all you cared. Your finger trailed his cheek as you recalled your words the night before. He said he wanted you, the same as you, and he said he wouldn't change his mind, but what if he did? What if you lost your opportunity the night before?

Maybe you were still half asleep; otherwise, the fact that you were both in bed naked would have meant something. As it stood, you were anxious about what reality could bring. So when he opened his eyes and saw you, your instinct was to kiss him.

You brushed his lips gently but surely, giving him more than enough time and place to push you away if he wanted to. So when he didn't, you became bolder. Your tongue teased the seam of his lips and your hand roamed his chest, and as you got lost, you became vulnerable. 

He waited as long as he could. He let you kiss him, let you press, let you push him a bit back into the pillow, let you cup his jaw, but you never moved away. Never stopped, and never changed your mind. You did say you wanted everything, and he thought he had given you enough time to take it back.

So he grabbed your hair and rolled over you to get on top, pushing his tongue past your lips without asking. And you moaned, instantly weak to him taking something that in all that concerned you belonged to him anyway.

You thought that meant a green light to explore him just as he was doing, passing his hand down your side to your waist, but no. You palmed the expanse of his chest and he interrupted his mission simply to grab your wrists and pull them down. He pressed them once to the mattress, then released one to pass his slender fingers between your breasts and you took the opportunity again. Your hand sneakily went under the sheets to scratch his hip up to his ass, feeling how firm he was over you, yet he caught you before you could squeeze him.

“Stay still.”

He could have been saying good morning, yet you puffed, “Let me.”

“No.”

“But I want to,” you pouted and he nibbled down your neck.

“Too bad.”

You wanted to be good to him; you liked him touching you and his hard cock ever so close to your core did make you hazy with want. But as he kissed and licked and palmed and pressed you from head to toe, you grew impatient. Incredibly so when he turned you belly down to do the same down the length of your spine as if he had all the time in the world. Even more when he raised your ass and spread your legs, nibbling at your ass cheeks and squeezing them roughly. Aggravatingly so when he noticed your wetness dripping down your inner thigh and made it his pastime to try to reach it with his tongue.

“Yoongiiiiii,” you whined at the end of your patience, waves of goosebumps driving you insane as he spread your asscheeks more to reach your wet inner thighs.

“Hmm,” he was having way too much fun.

“Let me touch you too.”

And ruin the fun? “No.”

You whined again, “But I've waited.”

“Not enough.”

“Why not?” You were sulking despite your spasms around nothing. He could feel them without directly touching you, and it drove him to bite and kiss harder. You squirmed at his lack of reply, “How long more?”

“Until I say so.”

You shook your ass half in annoyance half in desperation, “I've waited enough. At least fuck me.”

“No.”

It was as though he was shooing a fly.

“Come on,” you dragged. “Get to the good part.” He snorted but didn't move. “Fuck me, come on.”

“No.”

“But you'll feel so good.”

He sighed with your taste on his tongue, “I know.”

“So do it.”

“Hmmmm.”

You thought there would be progress as he touched your core ever so lightly. But you waited and waited for what felt like an eternity. And although the tip of his fingers explored every nook and cranny slowly and gently, even the embarrassing ones, you were still not closer to what you wanted.

And so you snapped, “I asked you to fuck me.” He hummed, but your tone was assertive, “I won't shut up until you do.”

He changed absolutely nothing, wet fingers dragging to your nipples lightly.  And so you insisted.

“I'm waiting. How long will you keep me waiting? Should I do it myself?”

Your hand moved and he put it in place instantly.

“I can show you how it's done,” your tone became mocking. “In case you’re lost.” His teeth brushed the back of your thigh and you smirked, “If you never used your cock before—”

A slap to your asscheek echoed and you grinned. It was firm, a warning, but what could you do? You always liked to talk big in bed, and you couldn’t miss the opportunity to rile him up.

“Nothing to be ashamed of— If you don't know where to go or what to do— Should I take over?”

Every slap felt like a win and that last one wasn't any different. He gave more of him when he did it, and you felt it in the sting, the touch, the attention. When he grabbed your asscheeks and squeezed until you cried out, you thought that he might be holding back.

“You talk too much,” he said quietly.

“And you fuck too little.”

He pushed you harshly to fall with your belly up and grabbed your head firmly in place, using his body over you to fully press you down the mattress.

“I like to fuck people who indulge me.”

“Liar.” It escaped your lips before you could think. You were too horny to think, but then you laughed, “Fucking liar. You're rock hard, you want to fuck me so bad is not even funny.”

“Your point?”

“You like it,” you whispered, raising your head to reach his lips, which he didn't let happen. You looked into his eyes, “You like my talking. You adore every spank and every little reason I give you to do it.”

His expression didn't change except for the laughter in his eyes, “Can you blame me?”

“Fuck no.”

“Is it a problem?” He seemed cautious. 

“Yoongi,” you sighed. “I said everything.”

His lips finally showed a smile as he got on his forearms to look at you with new eyes.

“But Yoongi,” you called with a pout. “I did wait long enough.”

He grinned widely, so endearingly you wanted to kiss his entire adorable face. So loveable you wanted to drive him crazy.

“You wait until I tell you to.”

He seemed happy now as he leaned to kiss and play with your chest, pink tongue messing with your perky nipples to the point you squirmed. And it felt good, so good your legs were restless under him, opening but struggling to get him to align. He tortured your nipples, suckling and biting only to smile at your fussiness. You could only take so much.

You squealed, “If you don’t put your cock in me soon I’ll fucking scream.”

“Scream?” He was amused, barely separating his mouth from your breast.

But you sucked in a breath and screamed at the top of your lungs. Only for a second though; his hand covered your mouth and forced you to look at him.

“Shut it.”

He raised his hand carefully with your eyes locked, and all you did was roll your hips to get his cock near your dripping core. You thought he had learned something, so when he moved too but against you, keeping what you wanted purposefully at bay, you decided that holding back was not getting you anywhere.

You threw your head back and screamed again, and when his hand darted to muffle it, you bit it.

You took another breath, but before you could scream his hand wrapped around your neck firmly. You looked into his eyes as lightheadedness relaxed your neck and shoulders. He was so careful, but you were at such ease.

“Are you going to be quiet?”

His fingers were perfect around your throat, “I want to cream your cock so bad.”

Your voice was a wanton whine as your glistening eyes focused on him. You couldn't describe how much you were melting, how much he relaxed you only to tense you up the next second if he so chose to. How much that drove you to want him like crazy.

“Is that a dirty thought?” You nodded once, pleading with your eyes. He nuzzled your nose sweetly, “Not yet.”

“Then I won't be quiet.”

Your voice was gentle like a breeze but carried consequence, and when he nuzzled you further, you knew everything went both ways. He knew it too, and he wasn't stopping you.

You tentatively tried a scream and his hand wrapped firmer, observing you with sparkles in his eyes.

You huffed, cheeks becoming hot, “Why won’t you just do what I want?”

“Why won’t you quiet down?”

“And do your job for you?” 

You could see the smile in his eyes — he knew you were embarrassed. He was just seeing how far you’d go in your brattiness, but you were so horny you were lost. 

“All I’m asking for is your cock, don’t you have one?” He raised an eyebrow at your taunt; you could both feel his hard shaft pressed to your thigh. “So why don’t you shut me up? Do you need me to tell you how to use your dick?”

“Just because you’re needy and desperate, it doesn’t mean you should get what you want.”

The burn traveled to your chest; he was scolding you and it was like you’d been shaken. Of course, he’d answer you and deal with your attitude. You never thought he’d be the type to let it fly but to actually have him doing it was burning you from the inside out.

“But what I want is you,” you sighed, batting your eyelashes flagrantly. “Let me get on my knees, I’ll do whatever you like.”

He took only a second, “No, I like where you are.” You grinned in absolute joy; you also loved being under him with his hand around your neck. You felt taken care of and grounded, even as your mind became chaotic in the hazyness. “And there goes another dirty thought, hm?”

You bit your lip, “In my fantasies you always give it to me so right.”

“This isn’t a fantasy anymore.”

You grinned, “No, thank fuck. You look so much better pissed off in real life.”

He raised an eyebrow, “You want to piss me off?”

You almost laughed, “I want you to fuck me.”

“I never said I wouldn't,” he adjusted his hips but purposefully made it impossible for you to have him, and you squinted. He was smiling, “I just told you to wait.”

“And I told you I’d scream.”

You were snappy and he grinned, “Can’t we be civilized about this?”

His lips ghosted you and your chest burned again, “Nothing civilized about the way I want you to fuck me senseless.”

Your voice was wanton, bordering a moan as your hips rolled just to feel the tease of his cock near your core, and he kissed down your chin, “So you’ll scream?”

“Like hell.”

“No changing your mind?”

“Fuck no. Stop stalling,” you whined, moving your spread legs in the hopes of catching him, but he only chuckled.

“Go on, then.”

He got off you and you huffed in annoyance and screamed. It was short and you opened your eyes to see him just observing you with amusement. Why was it so funny to him when you were getting upset?

So you took a deep breath and screamed again and this time your lips pulled in a smile because what the heck were you doing?

“That’s it?”

His taunt had you take a deep breath and scream again, only to fall short. You covered your eyes and stifled a laugh. It reminded you of how you screamed on roller coasters.

“You must not have enough reasons to scream yet.”

You bit your lip, imagining the reasons you could have, the ways he could make you scream. The bed dipped next to you but you stayed in your reverie. In it, Yoongi touched you. He slapped your cunt with his cock and promised to use you. He grabbed you by the neck while he pounded into you so hard you saw stars.

You huffed in impatience, neediness making you bold; you were about to sit up and do something when you stopped. He was throwing his leg over you and his cock was so close your eyes nearly crossed. He grabbed your head in place, but you were staring, fixed, jaw falling open and lax instantly. You could pretend you wanted to scream more but you were just salivating, so when he aimed his cock at you, you just met him halfway.

His taste hit your buds quickly and moved to reach your throat, and you lost it. Your eyes rolled as you closed them, the salty traces leaving you dizzy, and the way he pushed himself down your throat made you squirm in waves of pleasure. It felt hot and intense and wild as he did it again and again, each time getting a better sense of how much you could take. You barely cared about breathing; he was finally using your mouth, fucking you, showing you how much he wanted you without holding back, and with each push, he made you feel better than the last. Elated, special — he was groaning and getting riled up down your throat because you made him feel that good.

Suddenly, he pulled back and you followed him as long as you could before he grabbed your arms and raised them above your head to stop you. He had heard you choke so he was probably worried, but you only sighed in impatience.

“So greedy,” he taunted, pressing your wrists down firmly. But he had a glint in his eyes — he was paying attention to you. Not worried, just caring.

“Aren’t you learning?” You said as you tried not to melt, but it was too late. He chuckled and his smile made you happy. “Keep going,” you asked softly, despite the tears running down to your hairline. “Please.”

He brushed his thumbs on your wrists for a second with his eyes set on you. You were such a handful and he couldn’t love it any better. Asking for him like that secretly drove him crazy, and made him want to give you everything you could ever wish for, no matter what. So when you leaned back and opened your mouth, it was his pleasure to stuff it with his dick. He grabbed your wrists more firmly and supported his weight on them to help him lean forward and give you the fucking you craved.

Time and time again he snapped his hips to get his cock down your throat, and it was challenging. His muscles were burning, but so were his lower stomach and balls as he tried not to come. You moaned and choked and bounced as he fucked your head into the mattress, and yet you were totally relaxed. Your arms and hands were still, calm as you got used and loved it. And he loved it too, but for your first time together and after skipping it the night before, he thought this time he wanted more.

He pulled away from you and it took you a second, but you instantly sulked. He settled between your legs as you cleaned the drool, “So I’m not going to swallow the sugar rush?”

He chuckled, “No, not this time.” You pursed your lips and were about to whine about him stopping so soon when he asked, “Do you have a condom?”

Your eyes widened and you instantly scrammed to conjure up one. Shit, shit shit, you thought as you turned your room upside down, then your toiletries, then your bathroom. Why the fuck didn’t you have one? Well, sure, you knew why, but you were so angry now. You could not miss this opportunity!

You turned to your kitchen, desperate at that point until you gasped. You searched for your first aid box and dug until you finally found a lost wrapper. You waved it victoriously as you strode back to your room and to bed, and Yoongi was there to receive you with a look you couldn’t identify. He grabbed your arm and threw you on the bed before pinning you down from between your legs and kissing you till you lost your breath.

If he wanted to fuck you before, now he wanted to screw you so hard you’d only ever remember his cock. To think you said you wanted to be with him the whole last year, and that you hadn’t been with anyone else because of it made him wild. Why had you both played it so safe? He had been to your apartment so many times, set you to sleep on that very same bed, and yet never once did he get the inkling that you wanted him. Not as he wanted you. But just now, you were dripping with how much you wanted him, squirming, begging for him to fuck you, and trying to rile him up so he would. You jolted at his fingers in your folds, rubbing your chest to his for any hint of a touch, moaning when he pulled your head back by your hair. You wanted him bad and he was going to give it to you.

He pulled away from you and you almost screamed in frustration, but seeing him putting the condom on cooled you just enough to stay quiet. Your hands even stayed above your head voluntarily as you waited patiently, thinking he wouldn’t waste that condom, he’d surely fuck you finally.

You moaned suddenly and looked down, confused for a second, but you weren’t dreaming. He was grabbing his cock and slapping your cunt with it right over your clit. You squirmed with need, but he kept doing it harder and harder, wet sounds echoing with your excitement.

“Fuck, I just knew it,” you mumbled, clenching around nothing right before his eyes.

“Knew what?”

“That you’d do that,” you moaned, hands tightly gripping each other so you would stay put.

He hummed as he did it quicker, seeing your slick connect to his cock, “That so? What else do you think I’ll do?”

You were burning all the way to your shoulders, trying to move with him so that his cock could give you friction, and he didn’t stop you. So you answered through gritted teeth, “Stick it in, get deep, fucking use me until I’m stuffed with your cum.”

Your voice disappeared with the lack of breath; he was dragging his cock over your clit now and it was the sweetest reward. 

“Filthy thoughts you’re having, hmm?” You were lost in your motion, rolling your hips to earn that friction so you gasped when he pushed his cock inside you, loving the burn as your core split to accommodate his girth. “Read my fucking mind.”

You screamed when he bottomed out, biting your lip with the way he was forcing himself inside you. Then you opened your eyes to see him and instantly clenched around him, and he smirked. 

“Been thinking about fucking me, huh?” You could barely hold a thought, but the opportunity to tease him was too sweet.

“It has crossed my mind,” he said and snapped his hips, and you didn’t know whether to gasp or moan. He’d hit you deep and hard, you knew he would, and it made you even tighter. His nails dag at your hips, “So many times.” He was starting slow but deep and you could do nothing but moan. “How you would moan, what you would want, how you would give in and let me take you,” every wish was pointed by a deep thrust. “Now look at you.” You looked down: your tits were bouncing with every hit, gushing sounds echoed along with your moans from how wet your heat was, and the sight of his thick cock pushing between your slit to enter you was the cherry on top. It was the can of cream about to blow you full, and you wanted to get filled. “Almost cuming even though I’ve barely started.”

“Cause you feel so good,” you breathed in a moan.

He leaned to grope your taunting tits, “You told me to use you.”

“Fuck, please.”

He gritted his teeth and adjusted you better so he could pick up the pace. And what a vicious pace it was, fast and steady, leaving you so hazed and lost, that you had no words. He slapped your tits around and you clenched, tears roaming your eyes with how good and sweet it was. It didn’t hurt, every touch sparkled pleasure in your veins, and the sight of him hitting and scratching, his squeezes on every bit of you only made you even more sensitive. More elated and euphoric, so much so you were mumbling more with every moan involuntarily. He was slapping and roughly marking your chest as you asked, and suddenly you threw your head back and looked at him.

“Harder,” you asked out of breath, and he slapped your tit so hard you screamed before moaning deeply. “Just not my face.”

You thought to tell him from within a glimpse of logic, and he nodded and took note of your limit. Instead, he leaned forward and groped both boobs again and you squirmed desperately.

“Squeeze,” you breathed, your moan pitching. He did, but it wasn’t enough, “Please!”

He did, a bit harder with every thrust into your messy cunt. It was maybe selfish, but he wanted to see how you unraveled. How you wanted those strong sensations, how you craved something more intense each time and with every bit of strength, you transformed it into a beautiful pleasure that had you bursting.

He saw you coming again, writhing around thoughtlessly with the intensity of your pleasure, so hard he didn’t have to look down to see you throbbing around his cock. He still did though, mesmerized by it, only to chuckle. You had left a ring of white around the base of his cock; you just had to have your way in the end.

He leaned in to kiss you through your haze, slowly sensing with his lips the condition you were in. At first, your reaction was delayed, the brush of your lips falling behind as you recovered. But then you reacted and pushed back against his tongue, and he knew you were good.

He pulled back and turned you around, and you helped and got on all fours instantly. He didn’t wait, he aimed his cock at you and entered your velvety embrace as soon as he could. You arched your back for him and pressed back into him a couple of times to feel him deeper, and he grinned.

“Finally. So obedient,” he taunted, squeezing your ass cheeks to spread for him.

“You’re finally fucking me senseless.”

Your voice was a whisper, and he smirked. You asked him to use you, and he was doing a good job at it. But now he wanted to make you scream, to mark you so hard you’d never be anything but his. He couldn’t help it; now that his cock was shoved deep inside you, he didn’t want anything else. Now that he knew what you tasted like, what you sounded like, and how filthy your mind and mouth could be, he wanted nothing else. He saw you trying to get him deeper, huffing and puffing as you swayed with him, and his chest tightened. The possessiveness you were inspiring in him was raw and dangerous, but he didn’t want to fight it.

So he gave you both what you wanted: he smacked your ass as he pounded into you, seeing the way it bounced in either direction until he couldn’t focus anymore. Until he was desperate to own you, to hear you scream, to know you’d beg for him forever. It wasn’t enough; no matter how hard you screamed, he wanted more and he wanted it to last. 

Grabbing your hair to pull it into showing the beautiful curve of your neck was a mistake, though. Suddenly he saw how beautiful you were, vulnerable and immersed in every sensation he gave to you. He wanted you to be his, and suddenly it hit him that you already were. And you loved it.

And it snapped his senses, overthrowing his strong grip on his pleasure as if he had never had any. He became sloppy but still held on to your hips to sink and cum as deeply inside you as he possibly could. He groaned with every peak, jerking to milk the sensation between your tight walls as best as he could until he stilled. Fuck, how the hell did you do that to him?

He noticed then you were trembling and his priorities immediately surfaced, “Are you okay?”

You hummed, but he wasn’t having it. He pulled out despite your whine and helped you to softly lay on your side. Then he hopped off the bed, dealt with the condom, and searched around for water and a snack.

You were still stunned, out from the intensity of the emotions that had tensed and relaxed your body simultaneously. Your soul didn’t know how to handle what just happened, and the only thing that occurred to you before he came back was that you had totally surrendered. You didn’t force yourself to be tame and quiet, or said and did what the other person wanted so you wouldn’t ruin it for them. You were yourself, through and through, and Yoongi fucking ate you up like dessert.

The bed dipped behind you and you turned to him, sighing happily when he pulled you in to snuggle.

“Here — water and chocolate.”

You glanced at the bottle and bar and smiled widely. Your heart was right all along, and although you knew it was definitely too soon, there were special words at the tip of your tongue trying to get out.

Instead, you let him insist and sit you up to take a sip of water and a bite before letting you fall back into his arms in a sweaty embrace that you wanted with all your heart.

He was kissing your head and tracing your arm quietly when you decided to tell him, “Next time cover me with cum.”

He raised an eyebrow as he glanced at you, and you pouted.

“Just… You wanted to know what I think about.”

“You think about that?”

“Sometimes.”

He smirked and squeezed you inside his arms, “What else have you been hiding from me?”

“You have no idea,” you laughed.

You were melting and relaxing into his touch as he pecked your head when he whispered, “Are we bad?”

Your heart hurt for a second, what? But then you realized what he was saying: your song. When you wrote a conversation you once imagined you both could have had:

You're bad, you liar. 

It's me who's bad, I know this bad desire, sugar.

So you chuckled and sang along to the melody, “What did you do to me, sugar?”

[marxy-06]

Favorites Fic Recs 5

Thank you to all the amazing writers <3

Kim Seokjin

Broken happy ever after (@taexual)

Of bears and bonds (@yoonia)

Switched (@i-am-baechu)

Scale (@shina913)

Kyoho (@jeonqkooks)

End of the line (@kookslastbutton)

Min Yoongi

Only for you (@beautifulfuckup99)

Fix you (@casuallyimagining)

The one that I adore (@gimmethatagustd)

Man of the year (@raplinesmoon)

Wishes (@i-am-baechu)

Set me free (@casuallyimagining)

Jung Hoseok

Flower (@readyplayerhobi)

Dinner plans cancelled (@souryoong)

Close call (@xjoonchildx)

Bloom (@7deadlysinsfics)

Kim Namjoon

My girl (@beautifulfuckup99)

Like couples do (@jinkookspencil)

Face sitting (@euphoricfilter)

B.S standards (@katnisspeetaprim)

Pregnancy insecurity (@katnisspeetaprim) NAMJOON

Park Jimin

Love Bug (@httpjeon)

Photograph (@i-am-baechu)

Wanna watch a sex tape (@gimmethatagustd)

Into you (@phenomenalgirl9)

Kim Taehyung

Still waters run deep (@btsmosphere)

Something blue (@moni-logues)

A human touch (@snackhobi)

Let love be enough (@jingabitch)

My tears ricochet (@augustbutwinter)

Goodbye (@jjksblackgf)

Wanna watch a sex tape (@gimmethatagustd)

That Irish barista (@i-am-baechu)

Race to your heart (@jjkeverlast)

Loverboy (@kookslastbutton)

Jeon Jungkook

Do it right (@rerefundslocals)

Gold is dull (@kookluvre) -> (hasn't been updated in awhile but def worth the read)

Best friends (@trivia-yandere)

Need you (@archivedkookie)

Across a crowded room (@monimonimoon)

A little reminder (@beautifulfuckup99)

University superstar (@jungkookstatts)

But we loved too young (@jl-micasea-fics)

Skirt chasers (@1kook)

Big enough for both of us (@btsmosphere)

Bodywork (@angeljeonjk97)

Deep in the woods (@angllicjk)

Angel in the marble (@venusjeon)

Was it better (@gyukookswhore)

97 (@rrjkive)

Lemon sherbet (@extravaguk)

The m-word (@hansolmates)

Head over skates (@mercurygguk)

Gun (@kooeater)

Café o lay (@taesspark)

Guilty pleasures (@kookslastbutton)

Purple car (@fruitmins)

Until my last breath (@iamjungkooked)

Don't want your sympathy (@sketchguk)

Couples shoot (@katnisspeetaprim)

What we need (@jungkookstatts)

Praising (@neo-percs)

Show you what devotion is (@euaphoric)

Pluto (@katnisspeetaprim)

Cherry candy (@bonny-kookoo)

OT7

Before I leave you (@hollyhomburg)

[champagneher]

DRABBLE

BASED ON | YOUR BOYFRIEND KEEPS ASKING STRANGE EXISTENTIAL -OR WAY TOO DEEP FOR 1AM- QUESTIONS AND YOU JUST WANT TO SLEEP.

PAIRING | NAMJOON X F!READER

WARNINGS | NSFW - +1k words

The dim light of your shared bedroom cast a soft glow over the space, a warm and familiar heaven that usually lured you to sleep with ease. Tonight, however, sleep was elusive, chased away by the gentle but persistent voice of your boyfriend, Namjoon, who lay beside you, his head propped up on one hand as he gazed thoughtfully at the ceiling.

"Do you think the universe is infinite?" he asked suddenly, his voice breaking the comfortable silence that had settled over the room. "And if it is, does that mean there are infinite versions of us, living out every possible scenario?"

You blinked sleepily, rolling over to face him, half-buried in the warmth of your comforter. "Nam," you mumbled, your voice thick with exhaustion, "it's 1 AM. Can we save the existential questions for the morning?"

He chuckled softly, his eyes still fixed on the ceiling. "I can't help it," he said, his tone apologetic but laced with curiosity. "Sometimes I just get caught up thinking about these things."

You sighed, a fond smile tugging at the corners of your lips despite your fatigue. This was a familiar routine—Namjoon’s mind was always active, always questioning, even in the late hours of the night when all you wanted was to drift off to sleep in his arms.

"Okay," you murmured, shifting closer to him, your body pressing against his side. "Let's say the universe is infinite. That would mean there are versions of us where you don't ask deep questions at 1 AM, and I actually get to sleep."

Namjoon laughed, a low, rumbling sound that made your heart flutter. He turned his head to look at you, his dark eyes twinkling with amusement. "But where's the fun in that?" He teased, brushing a strand of hair away from your face.

You couldn’t help but smile, your irritation melting away in the warmth of his gaze. Namjoon had a way of making even the most frustrating moments feel like something special. It was one of the many reasons you loved him.

Still, your body craved rest, and you couldn't resist a playful groan as you buried your face in his chest. "You're lucky I love you," you grumbled, your words muffled against his skin.

"I know," he replied softly, his fingers tracing lazy patterns on your back. "And I love you too, even when you're sleepy and grumpy."

You sighed contentedly, letting the steady rhythm of his heartbeat lull you into a state of drowsy comfort. For a moment, it seemed like you might actually get some rest, but then Namjoon spoke again, his voice a hushed whisper in the quiet room.

"Do you ever wonder if we were meant to find each other?" He asked, his tone contemplative. "Like, out of all the people in the world, how did it end up being us?"

You lifted your head, peering up at him through half-lidded eyes. His expression was serious, his brow slightly furrowed as he stared at you, waiting for an answer. It was hard not to get caught up in the intensity of his gaze, the sincerity in his question.

"Maybe we were," you said softly, your hand reaching up to cup his cheek. "Or maybe it was just luck or coincidence. But either way, I'm glad we found each other."

He smiled, his eyes softening as he leaned down to press a gentle kiss to your forehead. "Me too," he murmured, his lips lingering against your skin. "I don't think I could ever imagine my life without you in it."

A warm flush spread through your chest at his words, a mix of affection and desire that stirred something deep within you. You tilted your head up, your lips seeking his in a slow, tender kiss that quickly deepened as Namjoon responded, his hand slipping to the small of your back to pull you closer.

The kiss was unhurried, a slow exploration of familiar territory that left you both breathless. When you finally pulled back, your forehead rested against his, your breaths mingling in the small space between you.

"You're such a sap," you teased, your voice barely above a whisper, though the affection in your tone was unmistakable.

He chuckled, his thumb brushing over your lower lip. "You love it," he said, his voice low and husky, sending a shiver down your spine.

"I do," you admitted, your eyes locking with his, the air between you charged with an electric tension that made your skin tingle.

For a moment, neither of you moved, simply soaking in the closeness, the warmth of each other’s bodies. But then Namjoon shifted, rolling you onto your back as he hovered over you, his gaze darkening with desire.

"And I love you," he whispered, his lips ghosting over yours, the promise of more lingering in the air.

Your breath hitched, your hands finding their way to his shoulders as you pulled him down into another kiss, this one more urgent, more insistent. Namjoon responded in kind, his mouth moving against yours with a fervor that left you dizzy.

He kissed you like he couldn���t get enough, his hands wandering over your body, mapping out every curve and dip with a reverence that made your heart race. You arched into his touch, your fingers tangling in his hair as he trailed kisses down your neck, his lips leaving a blazing trail of heat in their wake.

"Namjoon," you breathed, your voice laced with need, your body aching for more of him, more of his touch, his warmth.

He hummed against your skin, the sound vibrating through you as his hands slipped under your shirt, his fingers skimming over your bare skin, sending jolts of pleasure through your body. His touch was gentle, almost reverent, as he slowly inched your shirt up, his lips following the path his hands had taken.

You could feel the weight of his gaze as he looked down at you, his eyes dark with desire, but there was something else there too—something tender, something that made your chest tighten with emotion.

"You're beautiful," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion, as if the words were too heavy to speak aloud.

You felt a blush rise to your cheeks, your heart swelling with affection for the man above you. "So are you," you murmured, your hand reaching up to brush a stray lock of hair from his forehead.

He smiled, a soft, genuine smile that made your heart skip a beat, and then he was kissing you again, his lips capturing yours in a kiss that was both passionate and tender, a perfect blend of love and desire.

The world around you seemed to fade away as you lost yourself in him, in the feel of his skin against yours, the warmth of his breath on your neck, the way he whispered your name like a prayer.

Your clothes were discarded in a flurry of movement, your bodies pressing together in a way that felt so right, so perfect, that it took your breath away. Namjoon’s hands were everywhere, exploring every inch of your body with a familiarity that only deepened the connection between you.

He moved slowly, deliberately, as if savouring every moment, every touch, every kiss. There was no rush, no urgency—just the two of you, lost in each other, in the warmth and comfort of your love.

When he finally entered you, it was with a tenderness that made tears prick at the corners of your eyes. He moved with a slow, steady rhythm, his lips never straying far from yours, his hands cradling your face as if you were something precious, something to be cherished.

You felt the world tilt on its axis, your senses overwhelmed by the feel of him, the sound of his breath in your ear, the way his body moved against yours with a grace and fluidity that left you gasping for air.

His eyes never leaving yours, his breath caressing your nose and mouth. His right hand caressed your body moving down to your ass, taking a large part of it to keep you even closer.

Your legs closed around his hips, wanting to keep it that way forever. He smiled feeling the pleasure run through his body. Letting out a shaky sigh he brought his hand to your clit where he agreed to take you with him to the end.

And when you finally reached the peak together, it was like nothing you had ever experienced before—a rush of warmth and light that seemed to flood every corner of your being, leaving you both trembling, breathless, and completely spent.

Namjoon collapsed beside you, pulling you into his arms as you both lay there, your bodies still entwined, your breaths slowly returning to normal. The room was quiet now, the only sound the gentle hum of the night outside, the warmth of his body seeping into yours as you nestled against him.

"Do you still think about the universe?" You asked softly, your voice barely above a whisper, as you traced lazy circles on his chest.

Namjoon chuckled, the sound of a soft rumble in his chest. "Not right now," he murmured, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. "Right now, all I can think about is how much I love you."

You smiled, your heart swelling with affection for the man beside you, the man who always seemed to have a question, always seemed to be searching for answers, even in the quietest moments.

"I love you too," you whispered, your eyes drifting closed as the exhaustion finally caught up with you.

And as you drifted off to sleep in Namjoon’s arms, you couldn’t help but think that maybe, just maybe, the universe had a way of bringing the right people together at the right time, in the right place.

Maybe, you thought with a smile, you were meant to find each other after all.

[kooqitas]

#pairing: yoongi X reader #synopsis: eating your pussy is like a amusement park for your boyfriend #wc: ~850 #notes: not proofread, english isn't my first language!

#tags: pwp(!), oral (f.) eating pussy, dom!yoongi, overstimulation, cumming in pants. | inspo by hc yoongi

★ m.list | inbox

you knew it was ruined when yoongi went between your legs.

you knew he would spend many minutes there, eating your pussy is like a amusement park for him, the best part of the sex. 

he kissed you on the lips, over your panties, jesus, you are really ruined.

"i haven't even started yet and you are wet?" he provoked you.

“shut up, yoongi!”

“i will!” 

he smiled to you, and in the next second his mouth back for your down lips, kissing soft the lace of your panties.

yoongi kissed you through your panties, rubbing his lips slowly against the fabric, making you feel every inch of his thin lips touching you. and he laughed when he saw how wet you were getting with that simple act.

“stop laughing!” you teased him. but yoongi didn't answer you.

he ran his index finger slowly across the wet panties, making your thighs tremble at the touchand then he lightly bit your panties, which made you moan, and then he pushed your panties to the side.

fuck, yoongi salivated when your pussy was exposed to him, you literally saw the drool running down his mouth, the way he looked fascinated at the mess he had made in just a few minutes over you, it was kind of embarrassing, but the the way he looked at you made up for all the embarrassment.

“i want you smearing me, leaving your smell all over my face, my tiny slut!”

he rubbed his nose on your wet hole, making you shiver from the different contact, but yoongi didn't take long to put his tongue in your pussy, doing what he did best: sucking you.

“fuck!” you moaned as soon as you felt him part your lips only to spit, making the saliva flow into your hole that was already calling for him.

yoongi was agile when his tongue entered you, sucking every inch of your pussy in a way that only he knew how to do.

yoongi lets out a quiet moan as you grab his hair, leaning down toward you gently and looking at you with a devil look in his eyes. "already? calm down, you know i’m going to spend the whole night here…”

yoongi's calmness is something that irritates you (a lot), he continues tasting you with the greatest calm in the world, while you start to lift your hips, trying for more contact.

“i need more, please” you begged.

yoongi leaves a light bite on your clit, which makes you close your legs around his head a little hard, of course it hurts, but he doesn't care, on the contrary, he loves your reaction.

for a few minutes he just sucks you, alternating between your clitoris, your wet hole, sometimes rubbing his nose, his chin, making you smear all over his face, leaving your smell there. his hips lifting more and more and your moans getting louder and louder until you finally came in his mouth.

you think it's finally going to end, but in the next second yoongi still has his tongue in you, seeming even more determined to continue his own service, putting you in a mental space you didn't even know you were capable of reaching.

it was too much, the overstimulation hitting you hard while he didn't let go of his mouth from your pussy, you knew he wouldn't stop (except with the use of your safe word), you and he knew you could take more.

"t-too much!" you moaned as you tried to release yoongi's strong hands from your thighs, but of course it was no use, he was much stronger than you and besides, he was determined to give you a second orgasm.

eating your pussy was yoongi's playground!

“no, baby, let me suck that pussy some more, hmm? i like this so much!” he said before going back to sucking your pussy voraciously.

you try to escape his arms again, not because you really want to, but your body reacts to the overstimulation on its own, and the way yoongi grabs your hips, forcing you to stay in place makes you cry with lust.

he spits twice on your pussy, before slapping it hard and going back to eating there, you close your legs again, but yoongi is a little violent in the way he opens them just to continue sucking you

you pull his hair and that just motivates him even more, if that was even possible.

you feel your body shake and the blurred vision makes you wonder if you're going to end up passing out, but in the next second you feel your body cumming again, and you scream yoongi's name so loud that you know all the neighbors will hear it.

you're a wreck, but as soon as yoongi finally lets you go and lies down next to you, you realize that his black underwear is completely wet, fuck, yoongi cummed in his pants while sucking you.

"can you sit on my face or is your leg still shaking?" your boyfriend asked once your breathing calms down.

ah, yeah, yoongi really has a tongue technology.

[jiminiesfavouritecolourisblue]

Our Little Love part seven - OT7 Mafia/Yandere au

What’s that saying? One step forward two steps back? 👀 6K words containing: manipulation, toxic yandere men, non-consented acts of affection, lies, possessive behaviour, jealousy, allusion to crime and kidnapping.

“Little love,” Jin calls for you absentmindedly, frowning when you don’t look up from your book to answer him. It’s one you had read a million times before, maybe you didn’t hear him.

“Little love?” He tries again, looking confused as you let out a disgruntled sigh of annoyance.

He can see your jaw clench, something had pissed you off. Your foot became restless as you sat in the arm chair, it was only when Jimin cleared his throat obviously he remembered the terms and conditions you had enforced.

This time he lets out a big sigh, one of tested patience. He mumbles an apology before turning away, a bitter feeling creeping up his chest. Fuck, he resented the fact he couldn’t call you that anymore, it was like asking him not to breathe. Fuck fuck fuck, they needed to earn your forgiveness soon or this might actually kill them. Not that they ever underestimated you, but you really did know which weapons to pull to hurt them the most, and fuck did he have to admit they deserved it. Didn’t mean he had to like any of it.

Jimin follows him out, a quick glance back at you to see if you were paying any concern but of course not. Since the day you announced the break you’d been keeping your distance, Jimin had complained about it childishly with tantrum tears in his eyes but you had patiently explained you needed the space to clear your head. 

Jimin scoffs at the memory, feeling sour about it still. The pout he wears gives away his thoughts when they both find Yoongi in the kitchen.

“Little love giving you a hard time?” he says almost amused. 

It’s Jin’s turn to scoff dramatically, ears burning so red, Yoongi swears there’s steam. 

“We can’t call her that anymore,” he complains, sulking. 

Yoongi smiles a little, not because he truly found his hyung’s pain entertaining, but because he understood the pain. 

“It’s a difficult situation,” Yoongi agrees, “but the alternative would have been so much worse.”

Jimin and Jin stare silently at him, their gazes aggressive as if they wanted to hit the male but they didn’t because he was right. The worst alternative wasn’t expecting you to leave, they all knew they would never let that happen, but if you had become a ghost of yourself, if they had broken you so badly there was nothing left to rebuild, then what would be left of you? 

“When did you become so considerate?” Jimin scoffs, rolling his eyes. He didn’t like any of it, he didn’t care if you were right and they were wrong, you had taken away their most prized and valuable possession, you. He couldn’t help the internal tantrums as if someone had taken away his favourite toy. Call him childish, call him whatever the hell you wanted, he hated this situation, and he couldn’t hide it. 

They apologised, and apologised, and apologised, and you still gave them the cruellest punishment you could think of. 

“You’re still thinking with anger,” Yoongi acknowledges, knowing when Jimin cooled down from this he would probably be the one with the most regret and remorse, what he didn’t know is Jimin was clinging to his resentment with all his might, because once that gave way he would have so much to answer for. 

—

Men would pay money to see Jung Hoseok hesitate, but that was exactly what he was doing now. Another book in your hand (you were reading a bit too much lately, he didn’t like it, it was as if you knew you couldn’t leave physically so you were doing so mentally), and he was stalling himself with interrupting you. 

Your rejection cut holes into him, and that’s what he was afraid of when approaching you today. When he was younger he used to be afraid of everything, but after indulging in the horrors of survival and the syndicate, nothing terrified him any more, or so he thought before his heart belonged to you. 

“Litt-” he catches himself before he says it too loud, clearing his throat quietly hoping you didn’t hear him. “Y/n?”

He sounds more confident, his more serious persona going up as if that would protect him here. He knew he needed it, any sane person after experiencing his pleasure and pain games would run at the sight of him, and a part of him was getting ready to catch you if you did.

You look at him and it has him crumbling. Something in his chest physically hurts him so bad he thinks he needs to go see a specialist, one glance from you and he’s ready to beg on his knees again for your forgiveness. The distance between you, although you were here in front of him, killed him. It felt eerily similar to what it did when you left, and it confused his brain and body so much. 

He had to remind himself every day, you were still here, you still loved them, this was just temporary. 

“I-I wasjus- I was just heading to the b-basment,” forget money, men would lay down their lives to see Jung Hoseok stutter and stumble over his words. 

You frown in question when he doesn’t continue, but stares at you expectantly, until he realises he hadn’t explained what he wanted.

“For a workout!” He rectifies himself quickly before taking a breath to calm himself, “I wondered if you wanted to join me?”

He mentally pats himself on the back quickly for sounding more put together, but then his nerves start to shake again when you don’t respond immediately. You contemplate it, for too long in his eyes, stretching out the pause until you have the man sweating. Who needs a work out, just piss your girlfriend off and try to spend time with her while she's still mad. 

“Yeah, okay,” you nod, finally putting down your book (he should get Jimin to burn them all). “I’ll go get changed.”

The relief and joy that floods Hobi almost makes him pass out, a genuine smile he hasn’t felt on his own face for days bursts through. This was a step in the right direction, you didn’t hate him or you would’ve shut him down. With the amount of hope in his system, he was getting giddy.

—

You wanted some time alone this evening, without them lingering around you, with poor attempts of covering their intentions with busying themselves. As if you couldn’t see Jimin’s imploring stare as he walked past you from the corner of your eyes. Or the way Jin would walk towards you, hesitate and then walk away. 

You didn’t say they couldn’t talk to you, you were just on a break. Part of you knows you should seek them out and start civil conversation but that part also knew once you opened the door they would come barging through. An inch would turn into a mile and you would be back where you started. 

So now you were busying yourself with the world’s worst chore, just to escape and breathe for a second, laundry. You were sorting through the load at a snail’s pace, knowing when you were done you’d have to endure them again. You’re so embedded in your own thoughts you don’t feel another presence join you.  

Arms wrap around you, making you still. His figure almost engulfs you from behind, his nose already finding purchase on your neck as he buries himself against you. You try not to sigh, you were sick of hearing the sound yourself but it was always  one of patience.

You understood how hard it was for them to accept your decision for a ‘break’, but all you wanted was some respect for it. And this broke your no touching rule.

“Tae let go,” you say without an ounce of emotion, continuing sorting out the laundry in front of you.

His only reaction to your words is the opposite of course, holding you tighter against him making your heart skip too many beats to count. Your skin sizzled with something akin to longing, a fire he only seemed to ignite when his breath hit your neck.

You don’t give in. You throw the item of clothing in your hand down, both hands on the edge of the basket as you still, standing statue as he tries his hardest to work through your defences. You don’t respond when he nuzzles his nose against where he’s buried, or to the rumble of his chest when he breathes you in deeply. His eyes are closed, you know they are, he’s relishing the moment all he can before you take it away.

He doesn’t feel you respond the way he wants you to, he wants you to melt against him and the urge is so strong but somehow you resist. He whines, the sound so soft near your ears you almost miss it. He tries holding you tighter still, his thumb stroking soft circles on your skin, trying to tempt you to break your resolve. Gentle, almost whisper like kisses are placed on your shoulder as he finally breaks away.

“Are you done?” You say almost coldly as he steps back, picking back up another item of clothing.

You hear him sniff but you don’t let it move you.

“Heaven, please,” he begs, a fist in your top clutching onto you.

That’s when you turn to face him. If he expects to see any softness in your gaze he’s sorely mistaken, it’s not a glare you’re giving him but it’s close enough that it burns. You don’t even flinch when you see tears in his eyes.

“I asked you not to touch me,” you state quietly but your words are firm. “Or that if you did, you asked first.”

He looks down, partly in shame, partly in grief. You can’t stand to see the sight, it makes your heart ache, so you walk away.

—

“Y/n?” Jungkook asks for your attention, biting his lips in worry. “Can I ask you about the book you’re reading?”

The others in the room feel an overwhelming sense of envy when you smile at the maknae. Jimin’s jaw goes slack as you scoot over to let Jungkook sit beside you. Envy was a dangerous thing, how he wanted to pluck the youngest of them out of the seat and take his place, but he hadn’t calmed his emotions down enough yet to approach you properly, and he knew if he did he’d ruin whatever rebuilding the others had done. No, he had to be patient with himself and withdraw, even if that meant physically. He was playing cards with Yoongi and Seokjin, but he places his cards down and leaves. 

Jin’s pout overtakes his face when he turns away from the sight of Jungkook grinning while you talk animatedly, putting down a card without thinking and letting Yoongi take the win this round. Yoongi didn’t even notice, his gaze goes soft at the way you laugh at a teasing comment Jungkook made, a sound he hasn’t heard in what felt like forever. The sound even makes the corners of Jin’s pout pull up. 

The youngest of the group honestly thought he was in paradise, he didn’t even care about the book he just wanted to hear you talk without reservation. His focus was on the way your eyes lit up, the genuine smile on your face, how does he try to make this moment last forever? He pays attention to every word you utter, asking the right question to keep you going, even making a joke here and there and feeling so pleased with himself when you laugh. 

How did the relationship regress back so far that he felt like this was the start of it, like he was still pursuing you to give him a chance, like he had to work up the courage to ask you out all over again. The answer of course was in their mistakes, the thought dampens his mood but he pushes it away. He didn’t know when he would get another moment like this, he had to soak it all in and cherish it before it was over. 

—

Your defences go up when you spot Jimin bringing Taehyung to you, the shorter male holding his hand guiding your bear like boyfriend in front of you. You look at them both expectantly, wondering what the theatrics were for. Taehyung sniffles, his face hanging low, his red hoodie pulled down as far as he can get it to hide himself. 

“Taehyung has something he wants to say Heaven- I mean angel- I mean Y/n,” he corrects himself repeatedly with a shake of his head, cheeks burning in slight embarrassment at the blunder, but he wouldn’t apologise for it even it that made him a hypocrite for what he was making Taehyung do. 

He pushes his friend gently, encouraging him to speak.

“Tae?” you say gently, remembering how harshly you spoke to him the other day. 

Apparently that was all it took for the man to break down into tears in front of you, falling to his knees as he bawled. Your jaw drops in shock at the action, but you’re more surprised at the fact he holds himself back from launching into you for comfort. 

You can see how hard it is to do so, he’s hugging himself, but his nails dig into the fabric of his clothes. He still doesn’t look at you, his gaze on the floor. You give him a second to compose himself, the sobs turning into little hiccups as he wipes his face with his sleeve. 

When he looks at you it's your turn to grip the armrests of the chair with all your might, those glassy eyes beg you for love and it takes everything not to smother him in your embrace. But that would undo all the work you’ve been doing, you had to talk it out first and then maybe if this was resolved you could reward him with physical affection, just a little. 

“I-I’m sorry,” he says through a hoarse voice, the sound only breaking your resolve further. “About the other day, I s-should’ve asked first.”

He tries to take a deep breath in but it’s shaky, for some reason what he wants to say next breaks him out into more tears. He covers his face as he cries, Jimin rubbing his back providing him with the comfort you couldn’t give just yet. 

“Doyouhateme?”

The muffled question breaks your heart, Jimin can see it on your face and it has him fighting down a smirk. He may have played a hand at manipulating the situation, convincing Taehyung this was the best way to get back into your good books.

“Tae no,” you breathe, eyes watering but you blink back the tears. You didn’t want to show them any weakness anymore. “I don’t hate you.”

You sigh, eyes to the ceiling, as if begging for control over yourself as you try really hard to not give in to the feeling of wanting to crawl into his lap and hold him. 

“I just really needed some space that day,” you explain, “and you caught me at a bad time.”

That wipes away Jimin’s elation, all this talk about space and distance, it already felt like you were living on Mars. How much space did you want? In his opinion there had been too much space, that was the problem, or were you forgetting the long agonising months of your absence? 

Taehyung nods, thankfully retaining your attention away from Jimin who couldn’t hide his thoughts from his face. 

—

You can’t sleep, tossing and turning from your side to your back and then to your side again. Were you fighting a losing battle? Were you being unfair in asking them to change? You remember cases of forgotten wives refusing to leave their no good husbands, the amount of inane times you heard the cries of ‘I can get him to change’... had you become one of those women? Then of course came the others, the women who knew they could not work miracles on their partners and gave up. Some left, some stayed, and you remember watching them all in the years of your career, arrogantly thinking it would never be you, no man would ever trap you like this. There was a joke in there somewhere, one man certainly didn’t, but seven did. 

The knock on the door thankfully interrupts your endless circle of pity, a meek Jungkook peeking around as he opens the door. Something about the scene felt familiar but the shoe was on the other foot. He was waiting for permission to come in, you don’t know why the sight made you smile, made you warm. 

If anyone was proof that they were trying for you it was Jungkook, Yoongi had kept his distance out of respect for your rules, you know he only did so because he couldn’t help himself if he got too close. Jimin was similar although, you could see he was keeping his distance mentally, angry with you and your conditions. It would pass, you were sure, or at least you hoped. 

Jungkook was the only one that accepted everything without complaint, and you knew it wasn’t easy. You were so grateful to him for it, for respecting your boundaries sincerely, for giving you hope that this relationship could be salvaged. 

He almost trips over himself when you pull the covers back wordlessly, inviting him in, the stumble of his legs as he races towards you makes you giggle. He climbs in without hesitation, about to reach out for you but he stops himself, eyes looking up at you, wanting to ask you out loud but too afraid to. 

“It’s okay,” you reassure him quietly, as if talking loudly would break the peace you felt with him there, that you’d second guess yourself.

Arms you’ve longed for wrap around your waist, pulling you towards him. You hold him back gently, not letting yourself get lost in him the way you wanted. In the darkness, your gazes meet, talking loudly in a way filled the silence. 

“I’ve missed you,” he breathes out hard, unable to hold it in any longer. 

“I’ve missed you too,” you admit.

He bites his lips to refrain from saying anything else, to break the illusion that everything was okay.

“I used to think I understood your darkness,” you murmur, stroking his hair out of his face.

He pulls you closer, burying his head against your chest, the youngest didn’t like how that sentence was going and part of him didn’t want to hear the rest.

“But I don’t think I ever did,” you confess in a whisper, starting to ramble. “I don’t get it Kookie, why me? This obsession, I thought I felt it the same as you, I thought you guys understood me too.”

You let out a shaky breath, trying to keep up with your thoughts when you felt the hands of sleep trying to catch you.

“Maybe I was just trying to excuse my own darkness,” you sigh, almost in defeat. “Or maybe I just fed yours too much.”

“You gave us your love,” he mumbles against your skin, eyes closed as he breathes in your scent. “Your acceptance, you didn’t feed our darkness baby, you just didn’t see the extent of it.”

—

The silence is suffocating. Yoongi normally appreciates it but in this situation it was unsettling. They’re all in the living room, some pretending to do their own thing, but no one was paying any attention to anything other than you. Yoongi and Namjoon did so blatantly, Yoongi sitting on the couch away from you but his stare is nowhere else. This didn’t break the rules, you didn’t tell him he couldn’t soak you in with his eyes whenever he wanted. 

The others were also very obvious with their glances towards you, Jin was dusting the same spot of the living room over and over. Hoseok flipping through the tv channels with Jungkook sitting beside him, the maknae biting his lips in worry with every peek he took, a habit he hadn’t had since he was a teenager. Taehyung and Jimin uncharacteristically played chess but all the pieces were in the wrong places, arbitrarily moving them just to keep appearances so you didn’t call them out. 

And Namjoon… the man was staring daggers into your form. Elbow on his thigh, leaning forward, his chin on his thumb, his finger on his face tapping away on his cheekbone impatiently. He was supposed to be going over the papers in his lap, but they were being scrunched in his other hand. Yoongi thought he looked like a bomb about to explode, and he wasn’t wrong.

“That’s it!” Namjoon almost growls as he slams his file down, standing from his seat while everyone stares in shock at his outburst.

He walks towards you, and you meet his glare but refuse to move from the comfort and safety of the tub chair, you don’t even close your book.

“This ‘break’ is over,” he snarls, gestating with his hands trying to find a conduit for his anger. “Do you understand, little love?”

You look up at him with eyes simmering a fire he only ignited, meeting his glare head on.

“I decide when this break is over,” you say calmly, refusing to fight him at his level.

“No.”

“No?” Your brows scrunch in disbelief and anger, there goes your plan to remain calm. “What do you mean ‘no’?”

You throw your book back into the seat as you rise to meet him eye to eye, although he’s still looking down at you.

“I mean…” he breathes gruffly, grazing his hand with yours at your side. “No.”

“You can’t b-“

Your voice is smothered by his lips, his soft touch turning into an iron grip as he pulls you closer, devouring you like a man starved and in his eyes that’s exactly what he was. You push him away, but he doesn’t allow for any space between you.

Even when you’re banging your fist against his chest, unable to breathe, he doesn’t budge. You’re at his mercy, only when he decides he’s had enough (for now), does he pull away.

You look dishevelled almost, breathing hard, your eyes glistening with tears. The sight shouldn’t arouse him but it does.

You have the audacity to childishly wipe his kiss away with the back of your hand, a tough swipe that does nothing to erase the force he handled you with. He chuckles, the sound makes your ears burn, feeling the warmth of shame colour them in.

The others stare with the jaws wide open, fear settling in that this was taking too many steps in the wrong direction. It takes everything not to call you back when you storm away, it takes everything not to follow. 

No one says a word, but they all glare accusingly at their leader except Taehyung, who only looks down in shame. 

—

“Where do you think you’re going?” Yoongi asks gruffly, sleep still in his voice.

“Out.” You respond bluntly, avoiding his gaze.

“I asked where,” he pushes when you pull Taehyung’s hoodie over your head. You were drowning in the fabric, and he pretended the sight didn’t make him ache for you. The same way you were trying so hard not to let his sleepy state bring down your defences, no matter how cute he looked in the shorts and grey top.

“What does it look like Yoongi,” your head was spinning with too many thoughts and you needed to clear it. “For a run.”

“I’ll come with you,” he says it like an offer but it’s not, you know it’s not. 

“No,” you refuse simply, finally meeting his stare. “Send one of your men to keep an eye on me, it's what you did before anyway.”

He’s quiet, observing you for a moment. You hated it when he did that, it was like he could see inside of you and yet, despite that, you felt like he couldn’t understand anything he saw. You break eye contact first, putting on your trainers while he continues to stare. Why couldn’t you read him the same, how could he still get under your skin with his silence even after all this time?

“I’ll send Jungkook,” he says as you open the door. “He’ll keep his distance.”

He doesn’t take the slam as you leave personally, he knows you just need to vent your frustrations, but because you were so isolated- sorry, because they isolated you, you had no one to vent to, no one who was objective to talk to. Physically stretching your mind would maybe do you some good. 

“Did you seriously let her go out unsupervised?” Namjoon seethes as he approaches Yoongi, quick to dial one of their men regardless of what nefarious time of the morning it was. The first call goes to voicemail.

Yoongi sighs, he was on his way back to bed, guess not.

“She deserves our trust,” he replies. “And I was about to send Jungkook.”

“It’s not about trust,” Namjoon bites back, another call unanswered, “it’s about safety, or are you forgetting our enemies hunt our weaknesses.”

“Our enemies know if they touch her they’ve signed their own death certificate, no one would dare cross us now, not with the amount of blood we’ve shed,” Yoongi groans in aggravation. “Not to mention you’ve bought out the police Namjoon.”

“But not every policeman, or Captain, or are you forgetting what we did to him?”

“You gave him a warning, he’ll behave,” Yoongi states, ready to leave the conversation but he can’t help himself with what he says next. After Namjoon’s actions last night, he was feeling a little vengeful, even if he didn’t completely mean his words. “We should’ve left him unharmed, we knew she didn’t want us to hurt him.”

The shock in Namjoon’s eyes flashes for a second before they compose themselves to a stare. He puts his phone back in his pocket, maybe Jungkook was the best one to go, you didn’t seem to punish him as harshly as the others.

The silence between the men turns the air cold, their gazes stoic but speaking volumes. Namjoon wouldn’t stand for mutiny or disloyalty, he especially didn’t stand for anyone questioning his decisions.

“He hurt her,” he explains himself patiently, “he wants to take her away from us.”

Yoongi scoffs, a humourless grin on his face as he stares back in ridicule at their leader.

“We hurt her,” he states, eyes blank of emotion, “where’s our bullet to the knees.”

—

If you were being honest with yourself, you hated running, you hated the way each breath burned as it filled your lungs, how each limb could feel like lead, but the pain was better than the thoughts you were trying to clear. 

You remember at the police academy, Suho and Kai used to run circles around you, but somewhere along the way your competitiveness got the better of you, and you trained harder than them both. It used to annoy you to hell that they were physically much stronger than you, but those days were some of the best. The three of you were so close, each other’s confidants when things went sour, the two you’d hang out with when a case went wrong. Now who did you have to confide in?

Maybe it’s your conscious or unconscious thoughts making your legs move in a particular direction, but you don’t realise where you’re headed until you see the sign above the door. The breakfast place… where everything went to shit a third time.

You barely glance inside as you run past but the sight of someone familiar makes you double take. Think of the devil and he appears?

His eyes catch yours when you stop in your tracks, he’s sitting at a table alone and the sight of him brings back that day like a breath after being underwater for so long. An apology is at the tip of your tongue, your eyes start to water, you know you have to keep running, if any of them finds you here with him, he’d be dead. You’re about to turn away when he waves at you, a simple smile that didn’t meet his eyes sent your way as he watches the realisation hit you.

His hand was covered in thick bandages, and your stare doesn’t leave them. There’s no thought in your mind as your legs move you into the building, ignoring the waiter's greeting as you walk towards your old Captain with dread. 

He shifts in his seat, letting you see the bandages on his leg, around his knee, the crutches resting on the seat next to him. Your eyes are wide with shock before your gaze turns into one of mournful rage. Tears start forming in your eyes as you shake.

The sense of betrayal that overwhelms you has you reaching a hand for the table, gripping the edge tight to steady yourself. 

They lied. 

They looked you in the eyes and lied. All of them, including Jungkook. You don’t let yourself sob, not when a fire burns any attachment you felt towards them to dust. 

You move your gaze from his injuries to his face, his stare never having left you. 

“Arrest them,” your voice is hoarse but without a morsel of regret, anger paving the way forward now, filling the loss you felt deep inside of you. 

They must’ve thought you were fucking stupid, they must’ve laughed behind your back, humoring you with their acts of trying to change. Fuck, you were a fool, they played you again and again and you just took it every fucking time. There was never going to be any change, and you refused to be their prisoner any longer.

“I’ll be your witness,” you say it with conviction, although a part of you grieves. “I’ll give you all the evidence you need, just send them away.”

Suho doesn’t say a word, and that makes it all so much worse. You can feel something creeping around you, shadows of them that have latched onto you, crawling all over your skin. You wanted rid of this dark energy, you wanted out. 

You don’t break his stare, not for a second, you can tell he’s deep in thought, contemplating your resolve, and if he saw a hint of uncertainty in you he would do no such thing. Why would he risk it? They hurt him, they could hurt him again. 

He reaches for his phone, and you take a premature breath of relief.

“Make the call,” he commands, handing the device to you. 

—

When Yoongi dragged Jungkook out of bed this morning, the maknae had begrudgingly crawled out of the house. His body ran on autopilot when he left to find you, eyes half open, yawning in the morning air. His hoodie pushes his hair to fall in his face but he’s too tired to drag the fabric back.

It wouldn’t take long to find you, he could run circles around you if he wanted but the thought of maybe spending some time with you alone made his legs pick up the pace, a goofy grin on his face as he thought about it.

Yes you were probably mad about Namjoon’s actions yesterday, not that Jungkook blamed him all that much, it was hard to stay away from you, but he was starting to understand your perspective a little more. Especially after the last time you pulled away, and he couldn’t let that happen again, he wouldn’t survive it another time. He wouldn’t blame you if you gave him the cold shoulder, he just hopes you don’t punish him because of Namjoon, deflecting your anger wherever it did damage.

He’d calm you down, he’s sure of it. He’d tell you that what their big bad boss did was wrong and he was on your side, he’d tell you that he loved you and respected you, and it didn’t matter how long you took to forgive them he was sure the relationship would heal.

He’s so lost in thought he doesn’t realise how far he’s travelled, it’s only when there’s still no sight of you his grin begins to fade. He should’ve caught up to you by now, this was the route you normally take, and you knew better than to go another way.

What if… no. You wouldn’t dare leave again, you wouldn’t. Jungkook breaks into a sprint, running every route he can think of, not stopping for a moment even when his lungs and legs burn. He’s looking round like a mad man, but he can’t find you. What if something happened? What if someone got to you or hurt you? Memories flash in his mind to long, long ago when that was almost the case. What if?

Shit. A hand to his pocket tells him he’s left his phone, he couldn’t contact the others to join him. His best decision was to get back to the house asap. Jin would still have the tracker on your phone, they would find you, it was all going to be fine.

The fear that seized his heart was not fooled by such idealistic thoughts, his eyes had seen the true brutality of the world, sometimes caused by his own hands, and now his mind played a myriad of images of his little love in all the situations of pain he caused others. He always wondered if karma would catch him one day, he never thought it would take you.

—

He slams the door open so hard it struggles to stay on the hinges.

“I CAN’T FIND HER!” He yells into the open space of the home with all the air in his lungs.

It doesn’t take long for the hoard to assemble.

“What do you mean you can’t find her?” Jin yells back, reaching for his phone to track you without prompt.

Jungkook doesn’t miss the way Namjoon glares at Yoongi, the shorter man ignoring him.

“She’s probably taken another route,” he says calmly. 

“You better hope that’s all,” Namjoon says through gritted teeth. 

“What if someone’s got her?” Jimin panics.

“No,” Hoseok shuts that idea down, “everyone knows there is nowhere in Seoul to hide from us.”

“There’s always one idiot that’s willing to try, or have you forgotten the last time someone tried to take her?” Taehyung says heatedly.

“And we know how that ended,” Hoseok growls back.

The bickering among themselves grows in volume, so loud that they almost miss what Jin says. 

“What?” It’s Yoongi that dares to ask him to repeat himself, the drumming in his ears drowning the words. He must’ve misheard…

“She’s at the police station,” there’s no mistaking it this time. Jin looks solemnly at Namjoon while all their heads spiral.

“She’s not gone there of her own will,” Yoongi shakes his head in denial, “they’ve arrested her or something.”

Namjoon says eerily quiet, his breathing hard, his jaw clenched. 

“Namjoon we own the police,” Hoseok pushes, “make a fucking call see why she’s there.”

“Fuck making a call! I’m going over there,” Jungkook announces, turning back to the front door, but the sight of a police van pulling up at their mansion makes him stop in his tracks. 

“Are they dropping her home,” Jimin asks stupidly, unable to comprehend why else they would be there. 

The older four men look at eachother knowingly. 

“Should we run?” Jin asks, making Taehyung and Jimin whip their heads to stare at him incredulously. 

“Why would we run?” Namjoon breaks his silence, “they’ll take us right to her.”

As if on queue a smoke grenade rolls into the room, blasting off within seconds, covering the air. Namjoon almost laughs, they sent the fucking swat team, how ridiculous when they could’ve settled this like gentlemen.

Bodies swarm in, yelling commands and they all fall to their knees as instructed. On any other day, if you were home, these men wouldn’t make it through the door, but Namjoon was right, they were a one way ticket to finding you.

[brainddeadd]

smut

this was requested by anon but they didn't specify anything

thinking about yoongi who can cum just from eating you out.

he's already hard when he gets home, he's been thinking about you all day, and he's about ready to lose his goddamn mind.

he walks into the bedroom and sees the light on in the bathroom, sighing in relief he walks over and pulls the door open with no warning. you jump in surprise from where you're doing your skincare and yelp when he spins you around and lifts you up to sit on the counter.

"yoon-" the look he gives you shuts you up and makes your panties wet.

he doesn't bother removing the flimsy material, and instead just moves it to the side, wasting no time in picking a stripe up your cunt.

"oh fuck"

min yoongi eats pussy like a man starved. like he'll never get to have you like this again.

he's alternating between licking and sucking, nudging your clit with his nose and then he shoves two of his thick fingers into your pussy with no warning. you yelp, he just pushes himself closer, groaning when your hands find his hair.

"yoongi yoongi fuck yoongi" you're fucked out, thighs shaking around his head and ankles locking behind him. he grunts at the force of your heel between his shoulder blades and grazes his teeth along your clit in retaliation.

"shit yoongi im gonna cum" your a babbling mess and his cock is leaking in his pants.

he pulls back just enough to blow cold air on your clit, and then he's sucking on it just as fast as he pulled away and that's it. you're done for. your hands tighten in his hair, his fingers working against your walls and his tounge helping you through your high.

he presses the heel of his palm against his cock once, and you tug his hair to push his nose into your clit again, and he cums in his pants, grunting deeply and pulling his face away from your cunt to breathe through his orgasm.

panting, and on shakey legs, he moves to turn on the taps to the bath, before coming over to you and placing his face in your neck.

"shit baby, what the fuck?"

"i missed you."

[avianyuh]

Boring | Min Yoongi

Summary: For almost a year, you've worked for Min Yoongi's company. He gave off the impression of a cold businessman. No one ever saw him smile, laugh or discuss anything other than work. Everyone seemed to think he was a boring guy, who was too consumed with work. You'd assumed there was more to him, and often fantasized about him, but as far as you knew, he wasn't even aware of your existence. You didn't think he noticed you at all in meetings, or when he walked past your cublicle, but maybe you just weren't paying enough attention?

Word Count: 2.9k

chapters [1] ?

The worst thing about meetings is when they are scheduled at inconvenient times of the day. Like this you were currently sitting in. It was 3pm on the dot, on a Wednesday. Two more days left in the work week until you could sleep in until 11am. Two more dreary days of fake smiling at all of the coworkers you secretly couldn’t stand. Two more pathetic days of hearing the mindless office chit chat that you tried so hard to tune out. But one thing you would actually miss as you’d lay in bed until noon on Saturday was the sight standing right in front of you, giving the most boring presentation. Min Yoongi. Your boss, your superior, and your secret crush. Yes, it sounds like grade school to say you had a secret crush on him, but it’s the truth. You hadn’t mentioned it to your friends and definitely not the two women you were friendly acquaintances with at the office. It was an innocent infatuation. You couldn’t help yourself. He looked so attractive when he was dressed in his office attire. You had never seen a man look as good in a suit as Min Yoongi did. And when you happened to catch him adjusting his tie or recuffing his sleeves, it sort of sent you ‘over the edge’ and would become the highlight of the day. You loved to stare at him when he walked down the aisle past your cubicle. You held your breath if you were standing next to him in the elevator on the way up or down. And you fantasized about him while you sat through his boring presentations. You couldn’t fathom why a man so attractive could be perceived as so monotone and frankly, boring. You would see him walk around the office and interact with the other employees, but he always kept a straight face. Even when some of his clients would try to crack some jokes with him…nothing. You wondered why he kept so many walls up, well if that was even the case. Maybe he wasn’t guarded, maybe there simply wasn’t anything interesting about him? And that’s why you were more than okay with keeping your little crush a fantasy. You knew that you would probably be incompatible considering he seemed to have no soul. And honestly, you did like to tell a few jokes. You looked up from your notepad and stared at him, just as everyone else in the room was doing. Though you were basically invisible at this company, you still had to pretend like you were paying attention every once in a while.

“By tomorrow morning I need that file on my desk. It’s crucial that everything’s done and ready to go for the Smith account. Who was in charge of that?”, as the twelve other people in the room all turned their heads to look at me, I suddenly felt nauseous as my stomach started to twist into knots. As I darted my eyes from my coworkers, they landed on Yoongi, who was staring at me expectantly, waiting for his file. I cleared my throat and shuffled through my papers, pulling the manilla file out from under my notepad. I stood up from my chair as I walked over to him. His eyes followed me the whole time.

“Here it is Mr. Min.”, I said as I handed him the file. Your fingers briefly touched and you noticed just how calloused they were. You wondered why that was. He nodded at you and murmured a short Thank You, before he moved on to the next subject and you scurried back to your seat. By the time the meeting was over, I was back at my desk and watching the clock. 4:30. Only a half an hour left. You had finished all of your assignments and was just fiddling with the pencil in your hand when your office phone started ringing. “Hello?”, you answered, annoyed and wondering what could possibly be so important to warrant a call 30 minutes before you could leave.

“Mr. Min would like to see you in his office.”, the woman said before hanging up immediately. Shit, I thought. What could I have possibly done? He’s never wanted to see me in his office except for that one time when he gave a speech to everyone after we secured that big client. You had remembered to take note of his office since at the time you assumed it would be the only time you’d see it. He had photos lining his desk. Him at different sports games. Mainly basketball games. Pictures of him posing next to players, a picture of him on a boat, and a picture of a family. It looked like an older photo, so you assumed it was a childhood photo of his. But that’s all you could remember at the time since that night you had been knocking back quite a few drinks with your colleagues in celebration of the pay raise. But now here you were, approaching his secretary’s desk. “Y/N? Let me notify him before I send you in.”, His secretary looked down at the phone before pressing the button to ring him. “Mr.Min…yes, she’s here. Okay, I’ll send her in.”, She glanced back up at you, “You can go in.”, she said blankly before staring back at her computer screen, you gave her a quick nod as you walked past her desk. You could hear the frantic sound of her typing on her keyboard. You knocked on the door once before peaking your head in.

“Mr.Min? You wanted to see me.”, your voice was timid. Mainly due to the fact you were wrecked with nerves on the inside. You had been raking your brain on the walk down to his office on why you’d been called in. Maybe you were getting fired? But, on the same day you have that interaction with him during the meeting? It was the first time you had properly spoken to him.

“Ah, yes, Y/N. Please close the door behind you and take a seat.”, there it was again, that emotionless, monotone voice. It made it one hundred times harder for you to gauge what this conversation would be about. Was he angry? Was he calm? You had no idea. His face was stone cold. You really never saw him smile. And not to mention, his office was so dark, the blinds were almost completely drawn shut and now the door was closed. You found it concerning that he wanted the door closed. Last time someone went into his office and closed the door, they were walking out an hour later with two boxes filled with their belongings. You started to fidget with your fingers as you took a seat. You took a deep breath in as you watched him pull his hands out of his pockets and move from his standing position against his window and take a seat in his own chair across from you. “First of all”, he started, “You don’t have to worry, you’re not being fired, so you don’t have to play with your fingers.”, Immediately you placed your hands at your sides.

“Oh, um, didn’t realize anybody would pick up on that habit…”, you said, shocked at how observant he seemed to be.

“Well, I’ve seen you around the office and in my meetings for almost a year, and you do it at least one meeting per week.”, he shrugged before looking down at his desk and opening one of his filing cabinet drawers underneath. He pulled out a folder, specifically the manilla folder you had just given him during the meeting. He handed it over to you, and you furrowed your brows in response as you took it. “I skimmed through it, everything seemed fine. Problem is, I just got a call from Smith himself, and it turns out, his assistant faxed over all the wrong information. He’s still coming in tomorrow and expects the folder to be ready to go.”

You couldn’t believe what you were hearing, you assumed he was about to ask you to stay late and re-do everything, just because someone else made a mistake? Unbelievable. Before he could continue speaking, you intervened, “So what? Now I have to re-do everything? Do you understand that all that work in this folder took me a whole week. Rome wasn’t built in a day Sir.”, you snapped. Yoongi raised an eyebrow at you, leaning back in his chair and folding his arms across his chest, seemingly challenging your opposition.

“So you’re telling me that you refuse to do it? I understand it’s asking a lot, but you would be paid for any overtime. I can’t force you but if you don’t stay, don’t expect any big projects in the near future. Maybe Jerry at the cubicle across from you would like your next project?” You narrowed your eyes at him in a silent attempt to say, screw you.

“Sir, all I’m saying is that I sort of feel like this was sprung on me a half an hour before work ends, and you’re telling me I have to do a week's worth of work on my own in one night. I just don’t see how that’s fair.”, you explained, trying to keep your voice from getting too loud. One wrong move or word and he could fire you on the spot for 'disrespect'.

“So you’re concerned about working alone? Fine, I’ll stay and work on it with you.” Yoongi said as he looked down at his wristwatch, most likely mentally rearranging his afterwork schedule.

“Seriously?”, you asked, surprised that he would even offer to stay and work on the file with you at all. He looked back up at you, nodding his head, looking you dead in the eyes.

“Yeah, get your computer, you can set it up in here. We have a lot to get through.” And boy, was he right. The next thing you knew, you were two hours deep into paperwork, calling as many people as you could reach to fact check considering the fact most people had left their offices for the day. By 7pm, you were getting a little irritated as you weren’t making much progress with the file. And not to mention the fact that you were getting hungry. You ran a hand through your hair as you let out a frustrated sigh, throwing down your pen on your notepad. Yoongi looked up from his computer screen, his head resting on his hand, and he had his left arm resting on his desk. You could tell that even he was getting frustrated, and that in turn made you angry. And before you could stop yourself, you exploded.

“So, how exactly do you do business around here? You’re telling me that the whole week there was no communication with the other party until half an hour before closing today, the day before they were expected to come in for a meeting?”, he rolled his eyes at you as covered his face with his hand in frustration.

“You think I did this on purpose? You don’t think I also want to go home?” , he snapped. Now you were rolling your eyes at him, you felt like this whole file was never going to get done and your efforts were pointless.

“Can we at least order some food?”, you murmured. To that, you actually heard him let out a chortle as he reached into his drawer for a few takeout menus. It wasn’t necessarily a full on laugh, but it let you know that he did have a sense of humor. You couldn’t hide your surprise and Yoongi seemed to notice.

“What? Are you surprised that I eat food…”, he questioned as he handed you the menus, “Pick one, I don’t really have a preference. They’re all good.”, you grabbed them, again briefly brushing your fingers against his own like earlier in the meeting room. You decided on Chinese and another half hour later, after Yoongi went to collect the food from the delivery man, you were both sitting on the couch in his office, just silently eating. At first you assumed it’d be awkward, just sitting there, but it was actually kind of nice since it gave you a chance to get your mind off of the file and your impending deadline. But then, Yoongi cleared his throat as he put down his food. “Can I ask you a question?” You were intrigued to see what his version of small talk was, so you immediately replied with a Hm. “Do you find me boring during the staff meetings?”, he let out a chuckle as he asked.

“What!”, you giggled. You were surprised at his question, you never assumed that he would ask something like that. “How would you be able to tell?”, you were surprised at his change in attitude. An hour ago, he was so frustrated and now he’s…trying to be funny? He smiled at you before he started explaining.

“Everytime I look over at you, you’re either playing with your pen, or doing that finger fidget thing. I mean, I get it, it’s boring material we’re going over, but c’mon, everything I talk about is boring?”, he asked, still smiling which signaled to you that this was all just lighthearted banter.

“Well, I mean, you have to admit, spreadsheets and deadlines aren't the most interesting stuff to discuss after the first 10 minutes of the meeting. I just think the meetings don’t have to be over an hour each, that’s all.”, you threw your hands up defensively, returning his smile. He shook his head playfully.

“You do great work here, but every time I walk past your cubicle, you have the most miserable look on your face. “, he smirked, replaying the times he’s walk past your cubicle in his head.

“That is not true!”, you responded back teasingly, “I put in 100% But, it’s not my fault that I have resting bitch face…Also I highly doubt every time you’ve walked past my cubicle I look like that.” He raised his eyebrow, still smirking.

“Yeah, you’re right. The other half of the time I see you, you're always staring at me.” Upon hearing that, you covered your face with your hands and Yoongi started laughing at your reaction.

“Stop”, you pleaded, fully embarrassed now. You had no idea he caught on to that, you always thought you were being discreet. But to be fair, you had no idea he knew you even existed. He never seemed to concern himself with you until today. You had even interviewed with him when you got the job, it was with a supervisor. “I had no idea you even knew of me. I just assumed I was another faceless office worker or something. I mean, you’re always so busy and you keep to yourself…”, you tried to cover your tracks, but you were doing a really bad job of it. “That’s not true at all”, Yoongi said, giving his tone a serious edge. If I saw any of the people I employ out on the street, I would recognize them.” “But would you go up and talk to them?”, you questioned, bringing back your teasing tone. When he didn’t respond, you laughed and he let out a dramatic sigh. “What, are you shy or something?”, you asked.

“I wouldn’t say I’m shy, but I’m a bit quiet, but I think you already know that. I guess you could call me an introvert.”, Yoongi said sincerely. You nodded in agreement.

“Yeah, I’m the same way. I prefer my alone time. No wonder we were so bothered at having to stay so late.”, you joked. Yoongi agreed with you as picked the remainder of his food. You looked down at your container and did the same for a few minutes, assuming you were almost done with your conversation. At least now you felt more comfortable around him. And it was reassuring to know that he did in fact have a personality. A sort of perplexing one at that. Before you had the chance to stand up to throw away your containers, he started speaking again.

“You know, I’ve had my eyes on you for a while Y/N. I just never had a reason to talk to you, but I’ll admit, when Smith called, despite how pissed I was about the mix up, when I saw your name on the file, I was looking forward to this.” And with that, those familiar nervous knots in your stomach returned. You really wanted to tell him that you had also been interested in him, that you also despite your frustration, working with him all night had softened the blow of missing your after work routine for once. But you decided to play it safe, after all, he is your boss.

“Well, I don’t regret staying to work on this with you.”, you responded back. Your eyes met, and you stared at each other for what felt like an eternity. No one made a sound, and you weren’t sure of what to do. You studied his features. He had the most kissable lips, but you knew that would be a bad decision. One that you’d probably regret. His eyes seemed sad, and you weren’t sure of why you got that impression. You wondered if it was something you had said, but now that you were thinking about it, you always thought his eyes seemed like that. He was a mystery to you, one that you never thought you’d get the chance to uncover, but now, the window was slightly ajar into the man that is Min Yoongi and now you were really curious.

[A/N: So I guess my way of supporting Yoongi through this stupid scooter fiasco is writing a fanfic…Anyways, this is loosely based on a fanfic from years ago I had read on tumblr that I always went back to reread, until last week I noticed the story along with the account was deleted and deactivated :( To make matters worse, the story had never been finished, so in a way I never got to read how the story ended. So to make my teenage self happy, I’m making my own CEO Yoongi fanfic because I have to let my inner Yoongi freak fly. I anticipate that this will be a series, but I’m writing this author’s note before I even started writing the actual story so, we’ll see.]

[ilys00ga]

you are my favorite!!!! super happy to know you are taking requests :D also i hope you are doing well♡♡

could i request a yoongi x f!reader possibly where they have a rlly bad argument and make it up and it ends really fluffy? maybe the argument could be over jealusy or this stuff ofc not in a toxic way. Thank you in advance :)

BLOWING SMOKE.

PAIR: yoongi x f reader

TAGS/WARNINGS: established relationship, producer!yoongi, yoongi fucks up real bad, hes lowk an ass in this one sorry xxx, he fixes things tho, misunderstandings with a great amount of miscommunication, reader thinks hes cheating, jealousy, angst, also fluff, a teenie tiny dusty bit of smut implications at the very end, but no smut I promise. that's it I guess?? lmk if I missed something. oh yeah this is probably full of unedited mistakes, just ignore :)

A/N: omg omg first off, THANK U I love u lots 💗 second, this matches the new fic I was already working on so akdjqjsjjs was in the mood for some good angst hehehe...although, I gotta say, this was pretty rushed cz I had a shit ton of things to do (I still do) but I tried to make it as good as I can, I hope u like it 🥹 also, ik u said 'not in a toxic way' but I think I might have gotten carried away? nothing too extreme I hope, but we all fuck up, and yoongi here is not doing any better.

PS. requests are still open! feel free to drop some in my ask box anytime :)

Loving Yoongi was like a field of cotton grass dancing with the wild wind on a fresh late spring day. But being in a relationship with him, much like any other relationship out there, wasn't always a bed of soft petals and a sky of warm sunshine.

“I'm sorry, darling. I have to stay here for another two hours. You can still come over if you want.” That was what he said over the phone, one day, when you asked whether he was free for a dinner date or not. It's been a hectic week for the both of you, two adults trapped in the hectic mess of what we call life. An unsettling bubble formed in your chest. You missed him, so, terribly much. The days went on, and it became harder for you to sit down with him for a genuine conversation or a wholesome meal. The mere thought that your relationship was heading towards one of those bland and colorless stages was heavy on your heart.

His suggestion sounded apologetic enough for you to swallow the pill entirely, so you immediately declared your agreement, grabbed your purse, then left the apartment.

On your twenty-minutes-long walk there, you made sure to grab a bottle or two of wine and some snacks, because, knowing Yoongi, he would let his body devore itself before he would feed himself a proper meal, once he's inside that studio.

Except that, all of your hopes of a hopelessly romantic night at his studio, and that uncomfortable couch he purchased specifically so he wouldn't doze off when he's supposed to work, vanished as soon as you pushed the door open and walked in.

Yoongi never said or did anything to hurt your trust, neither were you the type of lover to shed tears and break glass when they see their partner with another person. But seeing him sitting so close to the female producer you were already familiar with, their chairs almost touching as they fixed their attention on the large computers on top of his desk, that was a sight you weren't ready for. And it wouldn't have been so much of an issue to you if you weren't sitting in the same room with your boyfriend and the woman he used to hook up with on a regular basis before he got with you.

“It's good to finally see you, __.” She gave you a smile. A little, polite and genuine gesture that, in contrast to the smile you mirrored to her, made your stomach flip.

Another hour passed with you staring mindlessly at your phone screen and them doing their thing. You were on the verge of excusing yourself to leave, to maybe catch some fresh air instead of suffocating to death inside that closed space, when the girl finally stood up to leave.

You watched as she gave him a hug, her hand gently rubbing at his shoulder, before she faced you to bid her goodbye and left.

Throughout the entire thing, Yoongi didn’t spare you a glance. His back was the only thing you could see, along with the back of his head, covered with his favorite dark beanie. You thought her departure would soothe your heart and put your anxious mind to rest. That Yoongi would turn around and explain why the hell he was hanging out with her, and not with his usual team members. Except that neither of the above happened.

“I’m done here too, for the day. We can go now.” He said as he stood up from his own chair, stretching his arms and arching his body with a rough groan. You were left wondering whether you were the insane one there. Or maybe he was that blind to the chaos happening in your head at that very moment.

The words were on the tip of your tongue. You could no longer hold them back. They were too strong to be kept hidden deep inside your throat. And so, you cleared your throat and let them speak for themselves. “You never told me you still work with her.”

You paused, taking a deep breath as you anticipated an answer from him, which came rather more lightheartedly than you fancied.

“Oh, I didn't think it was worth talking about.” He said, hovering over the desk to turn the devices off.

“Really?” You tucked the tip of your finger under another one, his usual nonchalance was supposed to sooth you, reassure your heart that he only belonged to you, but it only served to stir something inside your anxious self. “But it's still something, Yoongi..”

“Darling, you were never bothered with who I work with.” He remarked.

“Because you never had history with your usual team members.” Your blunt argument, with all the bitterness it held, took the both of you off guard.

“Is this about what I think it is?” He glanced up at you again, finally catching up on the situation at hand. “Look at me. Are you upset because she was here?”

“Yes I am.. You never mentioned the fact that you still see her everyday. Were you planning on keeping that from me?”

He let out a heavy sigh. “I told you it was never a big deal, baby. That's why I didn't bring it up.”

“Yoongi, it doesn't matter what you think of it. I deserve to know this type of thing.”

He scoffed at that, his attention turning to his stuff as he started gathering them. “Baby, please. I was working. We had a project to do. It's not like I slept with her or something.”

“Did you?”

At the heavy implication of your short question, Yoongi froze in his place, unmoving. His eyes spoke of surprise and pain as he stared deeply into yours, sending a chill down your spine. You blinked, and the sound of crashing almost made you jump when he threw the headphones he was holding carelessly on the desk.

“You think I did?” He asked. Even as his voice was completely empty of amusement, he didn't raise his voice at you. “You think I slept with her?”

“I don't know.” You shrugged. “That's what I'm trying to know.”

Neither of you spoke after that. He continued staring at you, not providing an answer that could satisfy your clenching heart. Instead, and just like every single time the two of you had an argument before that, he faced his desk again and busied himself with his belongings, his movements harsher and rougher than before.

“It's better if you leave now.” He said, his voice disturbingly cold.

You wished he could say anything. Maybe snap at you for being so harsh with your judgment on him, or lay his heart out and tell you the thing you dreaded the most, that he indeed slept with her. But he didn’t. He just faced the other way and did utter a word. And so, you grabbed your purse, phone in your other hand, and walked out of the studio.

Deep in the darkness of your room, you lay on your bed, deep in thought, staring at the ceiling like it could crack open and show you the secret towards a blissfully happy love story to remedy your soul. Your string of thoughts was cut short when noise broke out in your apartment. The sound of the front door being locked and closed again.

You craned your neck to catch a glimpse of the digital clock on top of your nightstand. It was three am.

Having had this scenario happen multiple times throughout the years of your relationship with him, you left your tear stained pillow and followed the source of the noise, your boyfriend in the kitchen.

You found him bent down in front of the open fridge, his back, once again, facing you. If he didn't hear your footsteps against the floor, he definitely heard the soft sniffle you let out as you leaned against the doorframe, you were certain.

“It's three in the morning.” You stated, like it was the most important news you could give him at that very moment. He didn't spare you a glance, settling for a can of beer and pushing the door of the fridge closed with his leg. “You shouldn’t drink at this hour.”

“Good to know you care about me.” He said, his voice calm but dripping with the usual bitter sarcasm he often exercised when he was tense or angry.

You couldn't help rolling your eyes at that. He was really upset. “Can we just talk?”

He flicked the can open with one hand, taking a long gulp of the liquor that left you with a small frown. “Why? So you get to accuse me of cheating again?”

“Yoongi, please-”

“No, __.” He paused, his gaze felt like a freezing flame to your soul. “You feel the way you feel, yeah I get it. But doubting my loyalty like that? Thinking that I could really go out of my way to cheat like it's nothing? What the fuck are you doing?”

His words, coupled with the way he looked at you, felt like a punch to your guts in that very moment. He was right, you knew that. No matter how insecure and threatened you felt back then, no matter how fucked up the thing he did was, cheating shouldn't have been your first conclusion. Especially when you loved and cherished him so deeply. With a trembling voice, you gathered your words and tried to ignore your stinging eyes as they threatened to spill your hidden emotions out. “I... Our relationship has been so dull lately, I was hoping we could spend some time together and catch up, but then I saw her there and I just..”

“Just what, __?” He cuts your speech. “Do you even trust me?”

“I do, of course I do! But you didn’t even talk to me about it, and when I tried to talk, you were all like ‘Oh, it doesn't matter, you're just being dramatic.’”

“That is not what I said.” He hissed.

“Doesn’t matter!-” A sob interrupted your speech, you ran a hand through your hair in frustration. “Can we just- please-”

Your words were cut short when he started walking towards you. You felt his arms engulfing you in a tight embrace, your face finding its place buried into the crook of his neck, where your warm tears touched his soft, milky skin.

“Shh.. I know.” He whispered into your ear, the strong smell of alcohol, carrying a hint of coffee within, filled your senses. Your arms moved on their own, automatically hugged him back. “You know I would never break your trust, right?”

You nodded your head. Something about the softness of his voice, heavy with vulnerability, made your heart crush into pieces. The way he held you, despite the hurt you knew he felt because of you, had a toll on you.

You pulled away, enough to bring your hands up and cup his face. Your teary eyes staring into his weary ones as you spoke. “That was so stupid of me. I'm sorry.”

“I'm the stupid one here, baby..” He turned his face to nuzzle your palm and press a kiss onto its skin. “I should've thought into it. I was so immersed in work, I didn't see how fucked up the entire situation was. Should've paid more attention.”

He leaned in, pressing a kiss on your forehead and letting his lips linger on your skin there for a few more seconds. “I'm sorry, darling. I'm sorry I made you think that lowly of me.”

The gentleness of his gesture and his words made your tears flow with a mind of their own. There was never a time he made a huge mistake and didn't make you feel like the sky might fall apart at the sight of your tears. It only made the guilt heavier on your heart.

He tightened his hold around you, pulling your body flush against his as he let you cry your hearts content out on his skin. You could feel his hand on the back of your head, a silent encouragement for you to nuzzle his neck again. You obliged.

“I can't believe you made me cry at three a.m like this.” You whined, after a long moment of hushed words of love and quiet sobs, and sniffled.

“I'm sorry, darling..” He cooed at you, wiping the tears off of your cheeks with his gentle fingers. The soft expression he had quickly faded into a slight smirk that appeared on his handsome face. “It wouldn't be the first time I do that, though.”

“Hey!” Your hand landed on his shoulder in a light swat. “We're having a moment here! And I still haven't forgiven you, you know!”

He let out a light chuckle, his smirk deepening when he tilted his head and noticed the faint blush on your face. “Worry not, I'll make it up to you. I'm gonna make you cry in a different way, darling.”

“Go away!” You whined again and shoved him away. His suggestive words made your face feel a lot warmer than necessary, but you tried to sound as stern and unaffected as you possibly could, under his gaze. “I'm going to bed. You better not follow me there, you're sleeping on the couch.”

“Oh, no need for the bed, baby.” He ignored your empty threat and rejection, making a quick job of scooping you up in his arms and heading towards the living room. “We have a foldable couch for a reason.”

“It's an expensive couch, you ass!”

[lo1k-diamonds]

I remember reading this back when! Fun quirky story 😋

Reader's fears are more than justified, I'd be hella pissed too! Breaking promises in a drunk stupor? How dare our dad do that!! (Though Yoongi hints at having the same age as the reader, which in that society was a sentence, so maybe waiting to fall in love was not working?...)

Fortunately, Reader hit the MF jackpot - it's Yoongi and he's quaint and interested in actually cherishing his wife whom he only married out of necessity?

Ahhhh, we're really dreaming here and I'm just as delulu 🤪

Or maybe it was the lingerie... a corset goes a long way... Lady Eleanor def set the reader up for success 😏🔥

I just love period stories, and this one is filled with detail. Sprinkles of "Seoulshire", "Daehurst", and "Upton Busan" made me giggle; cute!

— a wager of lords & love | myg

♔ pairing: noble!yoongi x noble!reader

♔ au/genre: regency era au, arranged marriage au, s2l, fluff, smut, angst

♔ rating: M

♔ wc: 6,813

⚔ warnings: reader’s mom is not alive, era-appropriate sexism, sex jokes, pet names, bedding ceremony, explicit smut: fingering, marking, light breast play, oral (female receiving), vaginal penetration, multiple orgasms, loss of virginity, you will fall so hard for yoongi. 

♔ an: this story was written for Leah | @colormepurplex2​ as part of the BangtanWHQ Valentine’s Event “Picture Perfect”. Thank you to my beta readers: @downbad4yoongi​, @peachiilovesot7​, and @moonleeai​; this story was so much fun to write. Your feedback, as always, was valuable to making not only this story at it’s best but also making my day better when reading your comments. I love regency era au’s and this one only made me fall even more madly in love with Yoongi, and I hope you will too! Please enjoy!

“What in heaven’s name did I do last night?”

Continuar a ler

[sxgakookie]

Summary: Your husband has found your behavior to be annoying at best, and he knows exactly how to make sure you’re back in line. Genre: Smut (dom! and mafia!Yoongi x reader) Rating/Warning: Adults Only (Strong language, explicit sexual content including dom-sub roles, anal sex, sex toys, oral sex [f receiving], unprotected sex, light choking, spanking, praise kink, daddy kink, degradation kink, female and male orgasm, brief aftercare.) Word Count: ~ 2.5k

When Yoongi walked into the bedroom, he was happy to see that you obeyed him for the first time that day. You, his beautiful wife, had acted like a brat since that morning. Whiny, demanding, spoiled, calling his office and interrupting meetings. He knew he spoiled you, and in all honesty, he knew he’d continue to do so. Being the wealthiest crime leader in Korea allowed him to. A closet of designer clothes, the best vacations and the most expensive restaurants for your date nights together. But when you acted like a brat, he knew he needed to discipline you properly and remind you of your place. He was your husband, and he demanded respect. 

You were bent over in the center of the bed, with your head resting down in the soft pillows. Your eyes were covered with a silk black blindfold, preventing you from seeing anything. You wore only black lace panties, with your breasts exposed. The panties themselves were a revealing pair of thongs, presenting your body for your husband to use as he liked. You waited patiently, as Yoongi rolled up the white sleeves of his button-up dress shirt. 

“What a fucking slut.” He murmured, walking over with the tap of his shiny black loafers hitting the floor. He caressed the soft skin of your bottom, before grabbing a handful to grope you properly. “You’ve been a real fucking brat today, honey. Did you know that?” 

“Yes, sir.” You mumbled. 

“Louder.” He demanded, earning you a harsh smack on your ass. 

“Yes, sir!” You repeated louder, feeling your skin grow hotter after the hit. 

“That’s better.” Yoongi said, walking away to go to the special drawer of your shared dresser. Your ‘toy box’, he often referred to it. “Speak up when I ask you a question. When you’re bratty, you know I don’t have a choice but to discipline you. What are the rules of your punishment, honey?” 

“Red light means stop. Yellow means we need to take a break. Green means go ahead.” You repeated your previous lessons. 

“Very good.” Yoongi said, kneeling on the bed behind you. “So it seems like you can listen when you want to.” 

Your breathing picked up in anticipation with your husband being so close to you. You hadn’t had disciplinary sex in quite some time, and you knew your husband enjoyed bringing you to your breaking point. Yoongi loved watching you sink deeper into your submissive headspace, as he coaxed all the attitude out of you, leaving you fucked out and compliant. 

“You’ll receive 20 spankings.” Yoongi’s tone sounded nonchalant, teetering on boredom. “You’ll thank me after each one, understood?” 

“Yes, sir.” 

“Very good.” He nodded, starting off with another soft caress of your skin, before landing down a hard, loud SMACK onto your skin. 

“Thank you, sir.” You cried, feeling your skin sting. 

Another. “Thank you, sir.” Another. “Thank you, sir.” Another. “THANK YOU, SIR.” You sobbed, feeling the hot sting of your skin. 

“Color?” He paused, looking at the bright red marks your ass. 

“Green, sir.” You responded, gripping the sheets. 

“That’s my good girl.” He hummed, continuing his assault on the soft skin of your ass. 

Yoongi grew hard in his slacks, watching as you took each hit. He loved disciplining you, and loved how quickly your body reacted to it. You melted so easily, complying with thanking him, as he could see the wetness growing between your legs. You loved it just as much as he did.

“One more.” He said, placing one more hard hit onto your ass. 

“Thank you, daddy.” You whimpered. 

“You did very well.” Yoongi praised. Your skin was red, glowing with his punishment. “I’m going to remove your panties now.” 

You felt the fabric slide down your thighs, and stopped right where your knees were. Not taken off any more, just enough to allow your husband access to what he needed, and to expose your body to his eyes. 

Then, you felt his fingers and the cold metal of his wedding ring caressing the wetness of your opening. You let out a quiet “ah!” in surprise. 

“Settle down.” Yoongi’s deep voice said. “Be good, hold still, and take what I give you.” 

A finger, at a painfully slow speed, breeched your entrance. Your lips parted in response, but no noise came out. Only deep breaths, feeling him fuck his finger in and out of you. Rough, calloused skin of his hand pleasured you, creating more sensations as he added more digits. 

“Daddy…” You moaned. 

“Daddy?” Yoongi’s smirk was practically audible. “That’s what I like to hear. Is my sweet girl coming back to me?” 

“Daddy, I wanna cum.” You said, ignoring his question. 

“Tsk.” Yoongi responded. “Even after your spankings, you’re still being a brat.” 

He pulled his fingers from your opening, causing you to whine at the loss of contact. You felt so empty without him inside of you. Moments went by without any contact, driving you crazy, until finally, you heard the pop of a bottle cap opening. 

“Brats don’t get their pretty little pussy’s played with.” Yoongi said, shaking his head as though you could see him. “That's for good girls. But you haven’t been a good girl, have you, angel?” 

Just then, something wet and cold on the soft skin of your ass. Metal. Round. A plug. Yoongi found your anal plug in your “toy box”, and slowly began working it into your hole with the help of wet lube. 

“Relax, baby.” Yoongi encouraged, giving your cheeks soft kisses as he slid the the plug in a little deeper. “Open your ass for me…. Good girl. Breathe in, now back out. That's my good girl. Color?” 

“Green, sir.” 

“Good.” He gave your skin a playful nibble, before sliding the plug in completely. You gasped and your toes curled at the stretch. You kept your ass spread for him, knowing it’s better to do so until he says otherwise. “It’s been a while since I’ve chosen to give your ass a good fucking, hasn’t it, honey?” 

“Yes, sir.” 

“When you act like a brat, you get fucked like a brat.” Yoongi explained, pushing and pulling on the plug just enough to drive you mad. “You get fucked like a slut. Bent over for me with your legs and ass spread open, giving me your sweet little holes to stick toys in. What a dirty, slutty girl. Already dripping down your legs."

Yoongi’s voice was heavy with arousal, and before he could stop himself, he licked up the soft skin of your thighs. You shuddered at the feeling of his wet tongue, gathering your wetness to taste, and working his way to the source, pressing a soft lick to your pussy. 

“Daddy…” You whimpered. 

Yoongi had reached into his own pants, palming himself to the erotic scene before him. You tasted delicious, and he lapped at your pussy like it was his favorite drink. He sucked, kissed, licked and nibbled different areas of your sex as he saw fit, creating a collage of pleasure on your skin, and you responded accordingly. You gripped the sheets, you curled your toes, you deepened your breathing. Yoongi listened to every last whimper, whine, gasp and moan, drinking it in alongside the sweetness of your pussy. 

“Daddy… Gonna cum for you…” You whimpered, earning a pressured lick to your clit. “Daddy… Fuck…Please don't stop, love your fucking tongue so much…” 

Yoongi knew you were close to the edge by your babbling. He continued his sweet flicks onto your sensitive clit, bringing you closer and closer to a high. But right at your legs began to shake, and your sweet noises became louder… he stopped. An almost evil smirk appeared on his face.

“No!” You cried, feeling so, incredibly frustrated by your stolen orgasm. “Daddy, please! Please, I need to cum.” 

“Brats don’t cum whenever they want to.” Yoongi’s deep voice said as he began fully undressing himself. He wrapped his own hand around his remarkably hard erection, and slowly pumped himself to relieve some of his own ache. “You’re using your polite words now, baby. That’s good. What do sweet girls say when Daddy gives their pussy’s kisses?” 

“Thank you, Daddy.” You said, voice in a clear pout. 

There she is. Yoongi thought.

Yoongi slowly, gently, began to remove the plug from your ass, making you want to cry at yet another place no longer feeling full. 

“Shhhh, I know, baby.” Yoongi reassured you, speaking gently as he knew your bratty behavior was slipping away, making way for your submissive side. “I'll give you what you need, baby. Promise.” 

When you were no longer filled at all, Yoongi took his hard cock that was desperately throbbing, and lined up his red, frustrated tip with your opening, letting it rest on your cheek. 

“Gonna fuck your ass tonight, baby.” He whispered, staring at the way you waited so patiently for him. “Breathe for me, ok?” 

You did so, feeling his cock sink into you. It made you feel so full. Your husband’s length was large and thick, with textured veins that you could feel, no matter where he decided to breech you. As he pushed further, he let out a deep fuck from under his breath. The lube from the plug helped him slide in well, and he could feel every inch of you as he penetrated further. 

“Gonna fuck the brat out of you.” Yoongi growled, his length throbbing against your walls. “Gonna make sure you remember who the fuck you’re talking to.”

“Daddy, please.” You whined, as he began pushing himself in and out of your ass. You weren’t sure what you were begging for, but the feeling of his dick properly taking your ass for the first time in so long was almost overwhelming. 

“Take my cock, baby. Settle down and fucking take it.” He groaned, throwing his head back and gripping your hips tightly to keep your body in place. The sound of his skin slapping against yours echoed across the large mansion bedroom. “Whose pretty fucking hole is this, baby? Hm?” 

“Your hole, Daddy.” 

“Such a good girl. What belongs in this hole?” 

“Your cock.” You squeaked out. 

“That’s right, baby. So fucking smart.” He growled. “But that’s all you need to know, isn’t it baby? I pay for your clothes and shoes, pay the rent and bills, and get rid of anyone who fucking looks at you. All you need to worry about baby, is giving me a pretty little hole to fuck and speaking sweetly.” 

“Daddy, thank you…” You cried, feeling the friction strongly now with every push and pull of his hips. 

“I can tell I’m fucking the brat out of you.” Yoongi chuckled, bucking his hips. “You’re gonna listen, aren’t you baby? Gonna be my good girl?” 

“Yes, Daddy.” 

“All it took was your husband’s cock up your ass to get you to act right.” He tsked, placing another smack to your cheek, causing you to squeal. Yoongi moved your body so that you laid flat on your tummy, allowing him to press deeply into you as he laid on top. His arm snuck between your hips and the mattress, letting his fingers find your clit to play with. Yoongi’s lips were to your ear, so that he could whisper things more closely, and you could feel the warmth of his breath. 

“Ah!” You cried, feeling the soft pressure on your clit, combined with the rough pounding from behind. It made your head spin, the differences of how Yoongi could touch you. 

“Who makes you feel like that, baby?” He whispered in your ear. “Hm? Who makes your pussy that wet?” 

“You, Daddy.” 

“And don’t you ever fucking forget it.” His deep voice growled. “I love to spoil you when you’re listening to me, baby girl. That means letting you make a mess of the bed sheets.” 

He could feel you dripping onto the expensive cotton sheets, driving him crazy. He could hear your deep breaths and whimpers, and feel how close you were to an orgasm. 

“I wanna see you cum.” He finally said, wrapping a hand around your throat gently, just enough to give himself more control. “I know you need to, angel. Let go, and show me what a dirty, messy girl you are.” 

“Ah! FUCK... Love your fucking cock... SHIT...” You shrieked, gripping the sheets. You soaked the bed, crying as you came intensely. Yoongi tenderly peppered kisses to your cheeks, and slowed the harsh pounding to more delicately work you through your orgasm. 

“Good girl.” Yoongi whispered into your ear, pressing more kisses to your face. 

“Thank you for letting me cum, Daddy.” You whispered, a few tears still falling. 

“There’s my girl.” He whispered. “So polite, and so goddamn pretty, cumming so well for me. We’re gonna finish your discipline, ok? But first, give me a kiss.” 

You turned your head so Yoongi could connect your lips to his. As he did, he untied your blindfold, and threw it to the side. His eyes met yours for the first time that session, and as he pulled away, he wiped a tear from your eyes. 

“You’ve been so good tonight.” Yoongi praised, his hips beginning to pick up. “Look at me while I fuck you. Keep your eyes here, I’m gonna cum in your perfect little hole.” 

“Yoongi…” You whimpered, using your husband’s name for the first time that night. 

“Look at me, honey.” He reminded you, keeping his hand on your neck, squeezing gently. “Good girl… Let me see how pretty you look while I cum…” 

With only a few more pushes and pulls of his hips, and a soft kiss to your lips, Yoongi groaned as he emptied himself into you. You could feel his length twitch as he finally released, sighing into the kiss. 

“I love you, honey.” He whispered, deepening the kiss. 

“Love you, too.” You responded. 

“Let’s get you cleaned up, angel.” He whispered, brushed a lock of hair from your sweaty face. “Was I too rough with you, honey? Did I really hurt you? Did I say something wrong?” 

You shook your head no, planting a sweet, quick kiss to his lips. 

“I like it. All of it.” You reassure him. Being married to Yoongi meant being used to his dominant side, both in and out of the bedroom. It was a turn on for you, especially when he switches afterwards to treat you so delicately. It was something only you knew about, as you were the only one who knew him so intimately to see it. 

Yoongi, as exhausted as he was, still made sure to bring you to the bathtub and let you soak your sore muscles away while he changed the sheets, giving you both a fresh place to sleep. When you were finished cleaning up, he gave you a shirt from his side of the closet to put on, large enough on your body to act as a nightgown with nothing underneath. 

You settled in to bed, and fell asleep as he took a shower. Yoongi slipped on a clean pair of boxers, and crawled into bed with you, pulling your sleeping figure into his arms. 

“Love you so much angel.” He whispered, before planting a soft kiss to the top of your head. 

[lo1k-diamonds]

Stellar Behavior 💜 Part 1

“What is worth an innocent’s life? You decide.”

PAIRING: Officer!Yoongi x Mafia (f)reader

SUMMARY: Yoongi has been in the police force for long enough to know that the system isn’t perfect, so when an injustice is about to put his protégé in jail, he has no other choice but to go to you. You’re the devil, but you’re hard to resist, and he needs to decide between falling into temptation or showing you that two can play the game.

WORD COUNT: 4.8k

GENRE: Gangster AU, Law AU, enemies to lovers, smut

RATING: R (explicit)

WARNINGS: corruption, power dynamics, blackmail, threats w/ a knife, slight degradation, sexual favors, oral (f rec)

A.N. I'm soooo excited, this fic is 🔥 Infinite thank yous to @moonleeai and @downbad4yoongi for working through my crazy and being incredible! Enjoy 🔥🔥

Masterlist | Masterpost | AO3 | Wattpad | Next Chapter >

Yoongi huffed and threw his eyeglasses onto the keyboard, rubbing his eyes so roughly he saw lights. It was no use; no matter how much he went over the evidence, again and again, he couldn’t change it.

“Hyung.”

He uncovered his eyes, only to be met with Taehyung’s sadness. His shoulders sagged from the sleepless nights ever since Jimin had gotten arrested, with dark circles bringing even more desolation to his otherwise heavenly features. He knew it wasn’t Taehyung’s intention, but the sight only unnerved Yoongi even more.

“Go home, get some sleep.”

Taehyung flinched, “But—”

“That’s an order, Officer.”

Taehyung stiffened and instantly bowed and showed his respects to his Superintendent before turning and leaving. Only then did Yoongi heave a deep breath and observe around him. It was weird seeing his department at the police station empty, without the officers at their desks taking calls or doing paperwork while on one of their 24-hour shifts. But they had all been shaken up, and so he had sent them home.

He was proud of his Division, and as their Chief, he couldn’t be more certain of everyone’s conduct and character. This included Jimin’s, and it was the reason why he was losing his mind over this case.

No matter how much he reviewed the footage and evidence, there was no mistake — Officer Jimin had seemingly shot his partner dead during an arrest gone wrong. This was a natural conclusion, judging by the body camera of the now deceased cop, Officer Junghee, that had captured Jimin nearing him with a fuming pistol in his hand. One that matched the ballistics report on Yoongi’s desk.

This was why the prosecution wanted to charge him with manslaughter at the very least, but Yoongi could not be convinced. The body camera also captured the panic in Officer Jimin’s voice and expression as he tried to save his downed partner. Yoongi didn’t care if that was Jimin’s gun or if it was fuming in his hand — he didn’t believe it.

“It wasn’t me!” The words Jimin shouted as he was arrested conveyed an absolute world of hurt and combined with the shock in Jimin’s eyes was seared into Yoongi’s retinas, causing him to dig the heel of his hands into his eyes again. But no matter how much he attempted to change the image, it wouldn’t. Jimin, his protégé, was still being handcuffed and taken away while begging, “I didn’t, you have to believe me! He put it in my hands! Hyung!”

Yoongi nudged his eyeglasses off the keyboard, locked his computer, and grabbed his coat. On long nights like these, he didn’t bother staying in uniform, only wearing black pants with a white shirt and his badge and holster belt. He made his way outside and got into his car, acknowledging whoever he met along the way. Temperatures were freezing, and his car didn’t start immediately. He reached for his nicotine gum while he waited for the car to warm up. When it finally started, so did the 3 AM news on the radio right as he left the parking lot.

“In a shocking revelation, an officer from the Seoul Metropolitan Police Agency shot his partner dead after pulling up to a suspicious vehicle in Dongjak District. The mounting evidence is undeniable, and the prosecution is discussing the potential penalty in such a case, with the spokesperson revealing in a press conference that while mistakes happen, justice needs to be served.”

Yoongi kept chewing and driving as the prosecutor’s voice echoed through the speakers. On the outside, Yoongi was the picture of calm, cool, and collected, but inside, he was fuming. He had spoken with the prosecutor many times, who preferred a clean-cut arrest to build his case to run for whatever political role he was after rather than fight for justice, as he claimed. Yoongi had always known that multiple interests abound in the justice system, but now he was starting to get pissed.

When he parked the car, he looked outside through the windshield, observing quietly as the people moved in and out of the Aether. The bouncers kept drunks at bay, and despite the booming music and the flashy lights, everything looked normal for a nightclub.

He removed his belt and badge, shoving them in the glove compartment so hard that something fell out. He reached to grab it from the floor, his frown instantly turning into a scowl. It was a photo of him hugging a woman, laughing, taken many years ago when they were still happy. When they were not even married yet, let alone divorced.

He got out of the car and ripped the photo into as many tiny pieces as possible, dropping the scraps in a trashcan along with his gum. Then he stopped in front of the bouncers with his hands in his pockets, saying six little special words.

“I want to see the boss.”

The first bouncer just scoffed a laugh and shook his head, but the second one eyed him from head to toe, “If you’re here to inspect, then you have to identify yourself first.”

“Not an inspection,” Yoongi said nonchalantly, glancing around. “It’s not an official visit.”

The smirking bouncer kept the flow of the people going in and out while the serious one, resembling the first almost to a T, pressed his earpiece further into his ear, waiting for orders. Yoongi had noticed the cameras already while he was walking up, and he wondered how long it would take for them to know exactly who he was and why he was there.

The serious bouncer moved closer to him, “Are you armed?”

“No.”

“I have to make sure.”

Yoongi glanced at him, then nodded, raising his hands as he let the man make sure he was unarmed. When the tall man rose from his knees after checking Yoongi’s ankles, he lowered his arms and waited for the goon to catch his breath.

“Alright, you can go in.”

He moved past the bouncers and into the entryway, but he hadn’t even made it to the coat check when someone approached him. Just by the light clothing, styled hair, and badge hanging on his belt, Yoongi could immediately tell that the man worked there.

“Follow me.”

Yoongi wasn’t there to sightsee, but he could appreciate the columns and marble structures and statues. Along with the paintings, velvet curtains, and carpets, it made the Aether look like a temple or divine abode of the Gods. The aesthetic intensified as they went up the stairs, but he didn’t have time to register much. In a second, he was walking into what appeared like an ordinary office — a pleasant space with a large desk at the center in front of huge dark windows that showed the lights flashing from the dance floor. He ignored the liquor table, the cabinets with files, and the black velvet sofas to the side. What his eyes were immediately drawn to was you — you who had pushed the large computer screen to the side so you could watch him come in. Your chin rested graciously on your intertwined fingers, with your elbows on the desk, eyes flickering with amusement, watching him through dark curled lashes. He hadn’t even noticed he had walked to your desk or that the door had closed behind him, but then you stood up, letting your delicate arms fall alongside your tight black dress. Your black, straight hair slid over your shoulders, framing the plunging cleavage of your dress, and when you smiled, he felt hot—molten hot.

“Welcome, Superintendent,” you smiled with a glint of amusement, your perfect teeth shining in the overhead light, and he clenched his fists behind his back. “Or should I say Yoongi? I was told you weren’t here in an official capacity, but…” You eyed him from head to toe, and he did his best to stay poised and calm. “You don’t look like you’re here to club.”

Yoongi was already sweating, not out of nervousness but because of you. Because you always eyed him like you owned him, always had a hint of mischief to every smile, and were always as elusive as a ghost. One he couldn’t catch and had grown tired of running after.

Still, hearing his name in your mouth for the first time… made him pull on the collar of his shirt, “Not here to party; I’m here on business.”

Your eyebrow twitched, and he looked at you seriously; you were a cunning fox of the worst kind. Worse than a weed, than a pest, than the bloody smoke still hanging in the air and making his fingers twitch. He had a simple goal, and he had to stay focused.

“Not an official visit, but you’re here on business…” you mused out loud then shrugged. “Soon, it will be four in the morning,” you revealed with a hint of disdain as you neared the table that held liquor in crystal decanters. “Surely, if you wanted to do something official, you’d wait at least three more hours?” You chuckled as you poured a finger of whiskey into a glass. “Want some?” He shook his head, and you shrugged again. You made your way back to your desk, but instead of going around it, you perched on the side of it, close enough for him to see your dress parting, giving hints of your upper thighs, “What can I do for you, Chief?”

Yoongi had nerves of steel; he ignored the lush skin of your thighs, the cleavage, the numbing sound reverberating through the walls, the dimmed lights, and the way your eyes seemed to challenge him with every blink.

He focused, “I want your help.”

Your eyes widened comically, the image of innocence and confusion, “Mine? What could such a powerful person need from me?”

Thankfully, your coy attitude irritated him and helped him concentrate. “I know the suspicious car they were chasing was one of yours.”

Your eyes widened even more, but this time, you brought your glass to your lips to hide a smile, “My, my, Officer. I know I have many cars, but to say I was a fugitive—”

“You know what I mean,” his jaw clenched, and you licked your lips.

“I don’t,” you could only smile, and he clenched his fists again. There it was. It pissed the fuck out of him. “Are you going to arrest me, Chief? Make good use of those deduction skills of yours and put pretty handcuffs around my wrists?”

He hated that his heart jumped in his chest as you whispered salaciously and leaned into him, shortening the distance between you. He hated how tempting you looked, and he hated the way your eyes fixed on his, as if you were ready to follow suit with your provocation. You were probably a tease like that with everyone all the time. It pissed him off even more.

He only blinked, ever the master of showing a relaxed demeanor, “I have no evidence to arrest you, nor am I here in that capacity.” 

It instantly hit him, as you straightened your back and finished the drink in your hand, that he was going to have to ask for your help. Not outsmart you, not convince you, not squabble with half facts and hunches — he needed your help and that meant he had to come down off his pedestal.

“My— An officer from my team will be sentenced for something he didn’t do. I’m out of options; I’ve hit a dead-end.”

Your lips pressed into a thin line as you put down the empty glass, “Don’t tell me — the system he holds and protects with his life won’t even try to prove his innocence.”

His jaw clenched; he hated that you weren’t completely wrong. “I’m trying to prove his innocence.”

The corners of your mouth twitched in a smile. “What makes you think I can help?”

He kept his mouth closed for a thoughtful moment. There was no use in accusing you again. Your smile wasn’t sly, so he decided to go for it. “You’re one of the biggest players.”

“Me?” You acted surprised, “I just own a few businesses here and there…”

“They say you’re the one to contact for information.” You tilted your head, and he insisted, “Even if that wasn’t your car, you’d know about it because it was on your turf. You’re you. I just know you know something that can help us solve this.”

That answer seemed to satisfy you because your lips and eyes revealed a small yet genuine smile that caught his breath. It made him realize he was leaning towards you now, exposing himself like that, but he couldn’t bring himself to hate it. Not when you looked at him like that, feeding into his hope.

“Say I do,” you started, eyes fixed on his. “Say I have evidence that could exonerate Officer Park.” He snapped straight; he had never told you the name of the Officer, and the media didn’t know it either. Yet what got him were your words, “Why would I help you?”

He clenched his jaw so hard that his teeth clicked. He just about growled with the way irritation mixed with his desperation, making him reel.

“Come on, Chief. Talk to me,” you pressed, wanting him to push through both the shock and the stick up his ass. “You must be desperate enough if you’re asking for my help, and I’m not denying it. I’m saying I might have what you need. What would you do to save an innocent from prison for life or worse?”

He didn’t think, “You have it? Something that could undeniably prove his innocence?”

He knew before he was done asking that it was impossible and that he was acting crazy. Yet, you leaned into him, meeting him halfway, your breath hitting his chin, “In those exact words? I do.” You sat back and let your words sink in, not knowing they gave him a full-body shudder. He always knew you were powerful and had your ways, but holy shit— “What do you have that I want?”

He opened his mouth but instantly closed it. Objectively, he had nothing. But maybe there was something he could do. First, though, he needed to know it was real. “What evidence do you have? Show it to me—”

“Hmmm, no,” you pressed your lips and twisted your nose, displeased. “That’s not how this works. This is based on trust. Besides, you don’t seem to have anything to offer.”

For a split second, he wondered if you were bullshitting him, but he honestly didn’t care. He had to do something. “You want something concrete for a maybe?”

“Don’t make me repeat myself,” your tone hardened as your expression lost humor.

“Alright, name it. Tell me what is worth your help.”

His tone was soft, and it worked to soothe you. His dark eyes helped; there was so much willingness in them, and you liked that. The man there asking for your help to correct an injustice was the kind of man you were looking for.

“Since you asked,” you cheekily started, pulling your hair behind your shoulders. “I want three things.” He didn’t even blink, so you continued, “The first is a favor. Of my choice and at my discretion whenever I shall need it. The second is for you to get on your knees. And the third is for you to eat.”

He blinked, “What?” He looked down to follow your hands over your thighs, and you spread your legs for him, though the black dress covered between them. He shook his head in bewilderment, “You’re crazy!”

“Crazy?” You chuckled, “I think I’m being quite reasonable.”

“You— Do you hear what you’re asking?”

He sounded breathless and could feel the heat on his cheeks, which was not ideal. He almost managed to step back, but a quirk of your eyebrow kept him still — he needed that evidence.

“Oh my, Chief Min. Are you getting heated at the thought of a couple of favors?” He scoffed, and you continued your tease, “Or is it the knees? Too proud to beg?”

“No, not too proud,” he mumbled between teeth. He was ready to kneel on the floor and beg, and the heat rising in his neck told him the rest wasn’t a problem either. And that was the problem. “The favor—” He cleared his throat, scratching it, “What is the favor?”

“I don’t know yet,” you shrugged, and it seemed to him like it didn’t matter. He knew that couldn’t be true, that had to be what you were really after — something specific from the Superintendent of the Seoul Metropolitan Police. And yet your eyes were shining in such a way that he almost forgot who you were. Almost.

“Something illegal, no doubt.”

You sighed and he took the moment to let the anger cool him — you were a criminal about to use his good intentions to surely accomplish something even worse. Instead of cooling him, irritation made him snap his knuckles and shift on his feet.

“I don’t know what it is, but it shouldn’t matter,” you said more coldly, squinting your eyes. “What is worth an innocent’s life? You decide.”

There was a hint of impatience in your tone that only riled him up more. He turned to you, “What’s stopping me from just—”

“You’re not that stupid,” you interrupted, raising your chin. His eyes noticed the surveillance cameras and you smirked, “They’re not who you should be concerned about.”

Your smile was predatory but he scoffed. You didn’t need to threaten him, and he didn’t like the coercion. He refused to look at you for a moment, giving you the impression that he was weighing his options. In reality, he was figuring out what angered him more — the fact that he was about to make a deal with a devil like you, or that he was that turned on from it.

You huffed and got off the desk, your heels clicking on the floor like a timer had just gone off. “Never mind—”

He grabbed your arm to keep you from walking away, and in a second, something sharp was poking his lower stomach. You both froze in place, your gaze angry and fixed on his, while his heart raced inside his chest. He didn’t let go of your arm, and you didn’t lower your knife.

“I never heard a yes from those pretty lips, so…” you spoke quietly, then pressed the blade harder. “Hands off.”

He knew you could put your money where your mouth was, and that if you wanted to kill him and get rid of him, you would. Yet, his grip didn’t lessen as he observed you. He was still trying to figure things out — not what to do, but you. He hated you objectively; you represented everything wrong with the world. Jimin was innocent; you shouldn’t be bargaining for his life, you should do the right thing. But you weren’t, you wanted to play with fire. Maybe even to get burned.

“What is it…” he started quietly, still eying your angry eyes. “Is it the risk? The humiliation? The footage for blackmailing me later? The power over a figure of authority?”

You scoffed, leaning in to answer just as quietly, “No risk, Chief. The footage might be insurance, but you’re a man of your word. No power over you because you’ll be doing it willingly. And no humiliation,” you chuckled. “It’s a privilege to eat at this table. Although…” You looked down, then smirked. “I can play if that’s what you like.”

He looked away from your eyes for the first time and almost flinched; his pants had a tent. He couldn’t even think; why was his body betraying him like this? He tried pulling away and letting you go, but you pressed the tip of your knife harder.

“Nuh-uh,” you whispered, taking a deep breath a little closer to his neck. “I heard the missus left cause you couldn’t get it up, but won’t you look at that—” Your tone was sly, and he gripped your arm harder in retaliation. You laughed, “I guess she just didn’t know how to play. Or maybe you like this,” your voice lowered wantonly, and a shiver ran up his spine as though he was starting to attune to it. “Like not having a choice, to be in danger, to be forced to do something reprehensible.”

He had to lick his lips because for a second he thought he was drooling, “I have a choice.”

You smiled and his cock twitched, “Then choose.”

He eyed your smile and leaned into you, but you chuckled and playfully pressed the tip of the knife to impose distance, ignoring the red droplets tainting the fabric.

“On your knees, Chief.”

His eyes snapped to yours, and he pulled you by the arm, disregarding the blade, so you’d walk back until the back of your thighs hit the desk. Then, he gripped your hips and helped you on the desk, fisting your dress in the same movement to get it out of the way as he kneeled between your legs. Your knife had slipped from your hand as you rested them on the desk for support, and you didn’t think to pick it back up. You wanted him to eat you and mean it, but he was going above and beyond — nuzzling your thighs and inhaling your scent, frantically fighting with your dress, and trying to pry your legs further apart so he could have access.

When his nose poked your clit, you jumped in place, and his fingers dug into your hips, even through the fabric of the dress. Just looking at the way he was fighting to get his mouth on you was positively melting you, but you wanted it to actually happen.

“Slide them down,” you breathed after he nuzzled and licked your core through your panties enough times to cover you with goosebumps.

He immediately obliged, and you shimmied to help him get rid of them. He threw them on the floor, then gripped your legs apart before giving you a look that seared you in place. You didn’t know what it was, but you were living for it, and the excitement burned your gut. The Superintendent looked like a piece of forbidden heaven between your thighs; who knew he’d have you melting like this just at the hint of doing what you asked?

A smirk spread on your lips as he kept struggling with your dress, until suddenly — rip. He bunched the fabric and pulled it, causing the slit that revealed your thigh to rip, and you chuckled. You liked that energy, that hunger; the way he was willing to destroy to have his way. Instantly, he had free leeway to uncover your core and press his mouth, rolling his tongue all over your slick folds.

You jolted with a sigh, gripping his hair at the back of his head. The more he laved his tongue over your slit to taste you, the more you had the urge to move, but you stayed still. With your eyes closed, you enjoyed every second of his discovery, from his licks to his tasting and humming. You heaved the breath you were holding when he nibbled your heat right before finding your clit to suckle, and your voice finally came out. You could almost laugh at how easily he had found his way, but your mind wasn’t there. While he found his rhythm, you guided him with expressive sighs, grazing your acrylic nails over his scalp without ever forcing him. You wouldn’t; his hunger was part of the power trip. Chief Min would eat you, give you what you wanted, and service you because you had that much power. You could bring someone like him to his knees. He liked it.

You suddenly pulled on his hair so he’d look up at you, and he did, not even bothering with a quizzical look. You bit your lip to stop a smile and relented your grip, and he looked down for a second. It was all it took for him to get back to it, and you let your head fall back with a sigh — case in point.

“The things you do for duty, Chief…”

His tongue kept laving over you as if you were desert, focused, regardless of your taunt. In fact, he seemed to have forgotten where he was or why because his hands started gently exploring your spread thighs. His fingers pressed to your curves and didn’t stop even when he felt the garter that held the knife you had used on him. Instead, he pulled on it, making it snap against your thigh, ripping a stronger moan from you. 

It was then he realized you needed something stronger, so he pressed his face harder against your cunt, latched onto your clit, and started rutting into you. You were surprised but instantly melted, and your fingers curved around his hair. The grind of his lips pressing into you while his mouth held the suction was already maddening, but the thrumming of his tongue on your clit was the cherry on top. You didn’t have time to make it a challenge, or maybe you didn’t want to; his rhythm was perfect against your heat, and you moaned when it intensified. The strumming was precise and maddening, each tap firm and steady, giving you enough time to despair for the next one and moan when it came, leaving you to anticipate what would come next. 

Your hips started moving on their own, and that was when you knew you had let go. There was no point in pretending he wasn’t doing it just like you wanted, or that you weren’t rolling into his face to feel him harder, forcing him to dig his long fingers into the flesh of your hips as he drank the slick melting out of you. The very sounds of his humming and licking drove the blood to your cheeks and emboldened your hips, messily humping against his mouth. You could feel the edge right before you, and every time you ground on his mouth, you thought that would be it.

“Fuck,” you groaned between teeth, looking down to find burning brown eyes drinking you more greedily than his hot mouth. He wasn’t stopping you or holding you back, he was letting you fuck his mouth however you wanted, and it popped you. 

You let your head fall back and pressed his face to your cunt, your moans pitching higher when he sucked harder, as if to pull all the pleasure out of you like it was venom. He rode your climax with you, gripping your trembling legs around him as though he wished you’d smother him, and finally, you looked down. Your walls were still throbbing in the aftershocks when he dragged his tongue across you slowly, and you groaned through a smirk, then pulled him away by the hair.

“Easy there,” you smiled and let your legs down.

You quickly pulled your dress down to cover you again while your other hand raked through your long hair, putting it in place. He rose slowly to his feet with his eyes on you, and you didn’t even try hiding your heaving chest; he could see it well with such an observant gaze. His eyes were so intense that you shuddered and bit your lip, but avoiding them only landed your own on his evident arousal, and you smirked.

Looking up, for a moment, your taunt got caught in your throat. Min Yoongi looked the absolute best covered in your cum from nose to chin — deliciously ravenous.

You licked your lips, raising your hand to his face but stopping before you touched him. He mimicked you, his pink tongue collecting your slick over his lips while he focused on yours. Still, when your hand moved down, so did his eyes. You smirked, dodging his erection at the last second to hide your hand under your dress.

You hummed, closing your eyes as your fingers collected your wetness mixed with his saliva, and then brought them straight to your mouth. You licked them first, tasting what he did before putting them in your mouth and sucking. 

You clenched, knitting your eyebrows as you realized how turned on you were. You were throbbing and craving something to push into you and fuck you senseless, and opening your eyes, you saw the same urge staring right back at you.

Your fingers left your mouth with a pop, and then you smiled, shaking your head, “Should have asked for a good fuck too.”

His dark eyes stayed on yours for a moment, and even when he wiped his chin with the back of his hand, they remained on yours. It was almost a taunt, and you grinned; you loved a good challenge, and even more the kind of fucking that lustful gaze promised. But you knew the worth of asking, and you were not going to come out losing.

“Maybe next time.”

[jeonqkooks]

to the loml, my beloved, may i play in the event game? hehe ;u; i would like your take on yoongi + "did i say that out loud?" + "stop looking at me like that!" ♡

i love you and congratulations again, jen oi ♡ muah~

sunlit sunday. (myg)

pairing: yoongi x reader prompts: "did i say that out loud?" + "stop looking at me like that!" genre/warnings: best friends to lovers (?), college au, fluff; mentions of drinking, barely edited word count: 1.1k note: i do not know what this is, nor why it took me over half a year to finish this drabble. cee my love you sent this ask in august 2022 and it took me literally forever to post i'm sorry 😭

as always, i’d appreciate any thoughts or comments you may have, and please drop a like and/or reblog if you enjoy reading ♡

The sun is already rising, but poor Yoongi hasn’t slept a wink. Partly because he can’t feel his left arm from where it’s being used as your makeshift pillow, partly because last night you told him you were in love with him and proceeded to pass the fuck out.

There was a party - there’s always a party every weekend when you’re in college - that Yoongi didn’t even want to go to. He just wanted to spend his Saturday night holed up in his apartment with you, pizzas and a movie. It gives him something to look forward to at the end of every week, partly because he's nothing if not a creature of habit, but mostly because he gets to spend time with you alone.

But tonight, you wanted to attend, and it didn’t take a whole lot of convincing for Yoongi to (begrudgingly) accompany you to a frat house on campus to spruce up your weekly routine. He would always complain, but you both know that he’d do anything you ask.

That's why he didn't really have anybody else to blame when he found himself having to tuck a very intoxicated you into an unfamiliar bed at 2:30AM in this greasy frat house. It wasn't exactly the best idea, but it was the only one he had. Yoongi wasn't exactly sober, and you were too drunk for him to haul you home.

You babbled nonsense the whole time he was peeling off your shoes and outer layers so you could sleep more comfortably. It was difficult - you're a squirmy drunk - but he managed in the end. When it comes to you, Yoongi has had years of experience, having known you from your early high school days together and being inseparable ever since.

He had gotten under the covers with you, about to try and coax you to sleep when you sighed dreamily at the ceiling, looking so content with whatever thoughts in your head that it felt like you could float away.

"I'm in love with Yoongi," you said, so softly that Yoongi wasn't sure if he heard you right. But even in the midst of tipsy uncertainty, his heart went berserk like it was going to run away from his body. Then you popped the ringing bubble in his head with a sharp giggle, uncaring, so oblivious. "Stop looking at me like that! Did I say that out loud?"

He didn't know what to say, even though it didn't really matter anyway. You weren't in a state of mind to comprehend everything he wanted to ask, everything he wanted to say to you. Yoongi kept his eyes on you while you kept yours on the ceiling like it was the most interesting thing in the world.

"You did," he muttered, averting his eyes, and you tittered again.

"Don't tell him." You turned to look at him with a finger pressed against your lips. He wasn't sure who you thought you were talking to but he didn't correct you; there was no point in doing so anyway. "It's supposed to be a secret."

He doesn't remember what he said next, if he even said anything at all. Though it doesn't matter because you promptly passed out afterward, and it's unlikely that you'll remember any of it when you wake up.

Everything from then until now is just a jumbled mess to Yoongi, his thoughts full of what the fuck's and his chest full of borderline painful palpitations every time you snuggle further into his warmth, seeking comfort in your sleep.

The thing is, he knows that you were being honest. You meant it, because you're nothing if not an honest drunk; you've disclosed your fair share of embarrassing secrets whilst under the influence before. But never would Yoongi expect to hear those very specific words coming from your mouth, words that reflect the same sentiment that he's been trying to profess to you for years now.

They rolled off your tongue, just like that.

If he's being honest, it wounds him a little bit. He's spent hundreds and hundreds of days thinking about the perfect way to phrase his affection for you and yet, you managed to spill your feelings out without a single care in the world.

Granted, you were drunk out of your mind, but still.

Eventually, you stir from your slumber when blinding sunlight slips through the cracks between the curtains. Yoongi watches you frown before your eyes are even open, then you try to stretch for a brief moment as you look around the strange bedroom, partly alarmed, partly confused.

When your gaze finally lands on him, he catches the way your eyes soften, the edges of your confusion melting away even though he doubts that the sight of him answered any of the questions in your head.

"Morning," you say, your voice heavy with sleep.

"Morning," Yoongi replies quietly.

You share a look, one that means completely different things for the both of you. You're probably hungover, and Yoongi is in love.

So in love that he doesn't even care to berate you for making him spend the night in a random bedroom in a disgusting frat house, where a pair of (likely dirty) boxers is casually chilling draped over a chair. So in love that it expels all sense of fatigue from his body until the only thing coursing through his veins is unfiltered fondness for you and the way your eyes crinkle when you smile.

So in love that he would wait until you're awake enough to ask him to walk you home, ask him to make you your favorite hangover breakfast while you take a long, hot shower to feel like a human being again. He'd wait until you're fed and caffeinated before joining you on the couch, prepared to kill the remaining hours of the day together. So in love that he'd only wait until that moment to tell you the things he's always wanted to say, the things that have always been on the tip of his tongue but he's never been brave enough to utter them to you.

He'd tell you what you need to hear, albeit with a bruised ego that you beat him to the punch but he'd pretend that you didn't. It's a secret shared between only Yoongi and the four walls of this bedroom.

He's so in love that he would endure staying up all night in this dump when he could've been in his own bed, comfortable and clean and cozy. But it's okay because it's Sunday and the sun is out, and you were the one sleeping peacefully next to him, despite how your head made his arm go numb. It's okay because love has a tendency to make awful things feel better, even if love is only stored in a set of sleepy eyes staring at Yoongi and a whiny voice asking to go home.

all rights reserved © jeonqkooks. reposting, translating and/or modifying is not permitted by any means. [posted 10.03.2024]

[ugh-yoongi]

Soft, romantic and drunk bf Yoongi waking you up by going down on you when he gets in late after a night of drink (with OT7/ after suchwita/ whatever) in which he could not stop thinking about you and your pussy.

I can even give inspo: tu mbl r.co m/poutyniall/714256286018142208/tongue-technology

yeah hey hi hello thanks for sending this. after only receiving PG requests this really sent me into a spiral.

crescendo

pairing: yoongi x reader (no pronouns used, but gendered terms are used for genitalia) genre: established relationship au; smut, fluff warnings: alcohol, swearing, yoongi is tipsy and just a horny pining disaster, previously discussed and consenting somnophilia, oral sex, unedited. rating: explicit. minors do not interact. wordcount: 1k listen to: middle of the night by elley duhé

Amongst his group of friends, Yoongi is the only one who gets like this when he’s drunk.

Some people regress and act half their age (Seokjn). Some people are overly-affectionate and stumble over compliments (Jimin). Some people try to pick philosophical debates over the point at which bread ceases to be bread and becomes toast (Namjoon). Some people bypass the philosophical entirely and go straight to the conspiratorial (Taehyung). Some people take one sip and slump over in the booth, moaning that they’re half-dead (Hoseok). Finally, some people don’t even bother to show up, because they’re too busy staying home and playing Overwatch to check their texts (Jungkook).

Yoongi, though—Yoongi gets horny.

The kind of horny that has him looking away each time someone’s tongue darts out to catch a stray drop of alcohol. The kind of horny that has him doing complex mathematical equations in his head to determine if he could conceivably lock himself in a bathroom stall and get it out of his system before anyone becomes suspicious. The kind of horny that has him sending you half-legible text messages under the table, detailing every dirty thing he wants to do to you, despite the fact you told him hours ago you were going to shower and go to sleep.

Fuck. He needs to get out of here.

“Aw, look at Yoongi-hyung,” Jimin teases, and everyone except Hoseok creates a chorus of laughter. Yoongi’s cheeks burn, made worse by the garish yellow-red lights of this bar. “I can’t decide if I should be jealous or concerned.”

Namjoon scoffs. “Why would you be concerned, Jimin-ah? Sex is a normal, beautiful thing, and it’s absolute bullshit that people use it as a point of shame—”

“Yeah, okay, that’s my cue,” Seokjin says around a fake gag. “Who had the tab tonight? Just send me a request—”

“You had the tab, you fucker—”

Seokjin hears none of it. Just says, “Mm, bye,” and then he’s gone. Which is Yoongi’s cue too, because he’s the second-oldest and therefore second in command, and the rest of them won’t even hesitate to stick him with the bill because it happens every single time it’s Seokjin’s turn to pay.

So he lies. Says, “Hyung will pay it in a minute. Gotta piss first,” and stumbles out the back.

He’ll hear about it later, if not from his four dongsaengs then certainly his ancestors, but he needs to be home. Needs to feel you spread out beneath him—your sleep-warmed skin, still soft from your shower, the scent of your body wash stubbornly clinging on. Needs to press his lips to every inch of it. Needs the smell and taste of you overwhelming him. Needs to hear all those little sounds you make.

The longer this taxi ride drags on, the more paranoid he becomes. Can the driver tell how fucked up he is in his backseat? Can he see the way Yoongi’s fingers are gripping the worn leather? How desperately he’s trying to keep quiet every time something explicit plays in his memory? He’d understand, Yoongi thinks; he’d understand if he knew you, saw you. He wouldn’t be able to blame Yoongi at all.

Seoul passes by in a blur, all neon reds and blues and whites. Everything is still so alive, even at this god-forsaken hour, and it makes him dizzy. Has his head spinning. He’s drunk and he’s horny and he just wants to be next to you.

Somehow, he manages to dig his phone out of his pocket despite how tight they’ve grown over the last hour. Goes straight to his texts, pointedly ignores all the ones in the groupchat yelling at him and Seokjin, and presses on your name. He’s less drunk now than he was before, but the messages still don’t make sense. Yoongi groans, throws his head back against the seat. Next time he’s just going to skip the bullshit and send you pictures. No use speaking in tongues when hieroglyphics could work much better.

The next five minutes play out like this: the taxi stops outside your building, Yoongi hands over a stack of money that’s undoubtedly too thick, he stumbles up the steps two at a time, so close yet still too far away.

And then there’s the door.

“This okay, baby?”

A nip of teeth at the junction of your thigh. Hands gripping at your waist, fingers dimpling your skin. Warm breath ghosting over your wet cunt. Yoongi’s head between your thighs as he kneels on the bed. You’re unsure if you’re conscious or not, but as you tangle your hands in Yoongi’s soft hair, you decide it doesn’t matter.

So you nod, angle your hips closer to Yoongi’s face. A whisper-soft gasp when he presses a kiss to your thigh, one to your clit; a strangled moan when you feel him smile against you before flattening his tongue and licking a stripe up your slit.

“Fuck,” he groans, doing it again, pulling away only long enough to say, “thought about this pussy all fucking night. You taste so good.”

Yoongi indulges in your body the way other people indulge in vices: incessantly, obsessively. But you aren’t a vice, are you? You’re not something to be ashamed of; not something wicked. As Yoongi continues working you over with his mouth, so sloppy and overeager you can feel it dampening the sheets beneath you, it feels like reverence.

It isn’t long before the heat starts simmering in your belly. Not long before everything starts feeling overwhelming; before your visions starts blurring at the edges. “Yoong, I’m—”

He hums against your core. Sucks hard once at your clit, and then you’re tumbling over the edge. “Goddamn, I love you,” Yoongi says into your skin. “That’s it, give it to me, baby, I love you.”

It feels predestined.

[kooqitas]

— middle finger ★ with: myg!

#pairings: stranger!myg X reader

#synopsis: just a stranger fingering you in the middle of the club

#tags: strangers, fingering, public sex, a little bit of degradation because u know... my history

🌸 . . nsfw, +18 | 

to be honest, i don't like this story, but after starting it's so bad to archive it :(

and as i always say: english isn't my first language, so be patient :)

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you felt the middle finger brushing in your underwear.

honestly? you even know how things happened

the last five hours have been weird. you break up with your boyfriend, cried a lot, stopped crying, and cried again, like, maybe you are on an angst fanfiction. 

isn't like you really love your boyfriend, because you don't, and you know that.

but does anyone want to be a kick in the ass? of course, not! 

so, after crying, you put on your best dress, put on your best make-up and go to the club. just for fun, you even know what club, just need a club. 

you drink, dance, talk with strangers, and everything is ok.

except for the guy who looks at you like a predator. 

he is pretty, really pretty, but you don't wanna anyone, not now, isn’t in your plane kiss someone tonight…

but happened… 

yoongi came close to you in a sneaky way, but now he had his hand firmly on your waist, while his middle finger brushed the middle of your legs.

the touches don’t happen suddenly, you dance, talk, drink, god he is hot! and after everything, his fingers… you know

‘’can i?’’ he asked, still brushing your finger on you.

‘’but, if someone see…’’

“that’s the joke, sweetheart!”

the deep voice makes you feel things (more than that you have feeling), you never do this before, like, oh my god a stranger is fingering you at a ballad? everyone can see you

‘’if you don’t, that’s okay! just a ideia’’ and his middle finger brushed again, you get more and more excited.

‘’can we go to the bathroom…’’

‘’but isn’t funny on the bathroom, if we go there, who will see you cumming on my fingers, doll?’’

you didn’t give a answer, not a verbal answer, you just ride on his finger, making yoongi smile and kiss you neck 

‘’i promise that i will be fast, ok? give me two minutes and i make you feel good’’

and you agree

he puts your underwear aside, and slides his fingers between your core.

you moaned, and he smiled.

he puts one finger, without any warning, and when you finally breath he puts the second.

yoongi is faster, making you bite your lips, training to not moan so loud, but he doesn't care, he wants everyone to see what you are doing.

''you're a mess, god! can you handle my dick opening your pussy?''

it hadn't even been a minute since you were there, and you could feel the orgasm approaching.

he said dirty things in your ear, how wet you are now, how tight, hot, how much he wanted put his dick on your little pussy.

you look for some guys close to you, a little group with five boys, everyone looks for the way that yoongi is fingering you. 

‘’you have fans now, everyone see my finger fucking your cunt, you need cum for him, baby, don’t be a bad whore, i know you can cum only with this’’

he’s right, you would cum.

and he noticed, so put the third finger…

‘’t-too m-much…’’ you scream, trying stop the hand who fucked you without any delicacy.

‘’you can, baby, just cum on me, come on’’

his thumb goin on your clit, and this is enough…

you cum on his fingers, shaking all your body while you scream and close your legs. 

yoongi laughed, putting his fingers on his mouth and sucking everything, every liquid of you.

‘’good girl, so good to me…’’ 

he gives you a kiss, your panties still thrown to the side

‘’now, you have two options, baby: i'll finish you off here in front of everyone, and let everyone record what a stupid cockslut you are, or i'll eat you in my house, where i’lll only stop fucking you when i can't take it anymore’’