What Money Can‘t Buy | Chapter 1
⪩ ⪨ pairing — producer!yoongi × sexworker!reader
⪩ ⪨ After nearly a year as a sex worker, you‘ve convinced yourself that intimacy is nothing more than a transaction. Then a quiet music producer enters your life, and what starts as a friendship gradually turns into something neither of you saw coming, changing the way you understand what it means to be close to someone and share something real.
⪩ ⪨ Word Count — 2.67k (Six sevennnn)
⪩ ⪨ WARNINGS!! — explicit sexual content, Graphic sexual assault (not by Yoongi), objectification, discussion of sexual assault, emotional distress, unhealthy perceptions of sex
⪩ ⪨ Note — I’m so excited to share my first fic with you guys!! The next chapters will probably be longer, but since this is my very first time publishing my writing, I decided to keep the first chapter pretty short. I also want to give a huge thank you to my beautiful friends @hopelesshifter , and @glossdebut , for encouraging me to publish this fic, proofreading it, and helping me along the way!! I’m so thankful to both of you. 💞
The cold breeze hits Yoongi as he stands before Stiletto, the sex-work venue he‘s found himself at tonight. With the sun slowly setting, he glances at his phone -half past nine- before finally stepping through the small entrance gate.
The building is tucked away on a side street, which is expected for places like these.
Yoongi doesn’t usually get down this easily, but work has been getting on his nerves. It’s not that he doesn‘t like being a producer, it‘s been his childhood dream, but lately it doesn't feel the same anymore.
On the way inside, he passes by a few more men, one of them still breathing heavily as he adjusts his belt. Yoongi lets out a quiet sigh, then pushes the door open without a second thought.
You‘ve been lying on this bed for who knows how long — maybe three hours, probably more. You’ve only had two clients today, and it’s almost 10 p.m.
After a long wait, the door finally eases open, and you see a man slip in silently. A sheer black lace bra hugs your breasts. The lower part of your body — bare, Obviously.
Your face is mostly covered. Like the others, you chose to hide your identity, though for different reasons. Some don’t want their families finding out, while others just prefer to keep this part of their lives hidden.
You are wearing a face mask that covers your nose and mouth. No one could make out your face except for your eyes peeking through your hair.
The room is dim, with a bed taking up most of the space. You lie near the edge of the mattress, your body sinking slightly into the soft surface. Heavy curtains cover the window, with only faint traces of light coming through.
The man slowly approaches you, he’s tall, but not too tall. He‘s wearing a silver bomber jacket and a pair of black jeans. You can‘t tell much about his face, as the room is too dark, but his hair is long and black.
When he gets close enough, you simply spread your legs. He seems more patient than most of your clients, as he took more time undoing his pants. He doesn‘t actually push them down, just pulled out his dick, then grabbed a condom out of the huge box next to the bed, and rolled it down his tip effortlessly.
You felt his hands, one resting on your thigh, and the other holding onto your hip. That’s when you felt his tip press against your folds.
Oh… he feels big, definitely bigger than he looks. He enters you with a slow push, and you swallow down a gulp. Damn, he is actually big, shouldn‘t be a problem for you considering this is your job.
Oddly he hasn‘t started thrusting into you like a fucking animal yet. Almost like he's checking in with you …?
Nah, you’re a sex worker remember? He hasn’t said a single word since he stepped into the room. Why would you even consider that?
You feel him starting to slide in and out of your pussy steadily, he feels good. To your surprise you are actually enjoying this, but obviously you have to stay professional.
He gradually starts picking up the pace, you suppress all your sounds to the best of your ability. That wasn‘t really a problem to you anyways.
You can feel him nearing his end and with a few final thrusts and a quiet low grunt, he finishes.
He takes a deep breath before pulling out and silently fixing his pants. He runs a hand through his hair, and you finally get a better look at his face, he is quite handsome. That's when he pulls out a 200- dollar bill and slips it between your fingers.
He turns around and leaves without saying a word.
200 dollars…? He was barely in here for five minutes. You don't even get this much for an hour — guess he‘s got money to spare.
After Yoongi leaves the room, he quietly makes his way outside. For some reason, his mind just keeps wandering, he can't seem to shut his brain off.
Yoongi doesn't have sex very often. If he does, it's very casual — just to blow some steam off after a long day. One round is enough normally… It's probably because he still has a shit ton of work waiting for him in his studio.
Yoongi steps out of the building, it's dark now.
He makes it to his car, unlocking it with a press of his keys. He sits in the driver's seat and lets out a slow breath, his head falling back against the seat. He just sits there for a while before finally starting the engine and driving back home.
He doesn't even know why his mood has been so off these past few days. Sure, he‘s been spending more time than usual at the studio, but that‘s nothing new. Yoongi has always been a workaholic. Long hours never really bothered him.
If anything, there's only one thing he‘d been looking forward to.
Kai, an artist Yoongi had worked with before, had asked him to help produce a love song he‘d written for his girlfriend. Yoongi loved the melody from the beginning and was looking forward to working on the lyrics. Kai was supposed to send them over tonight.
When Yoongi finally reaches his apartment, he parks his car before making his way inside. He stands in front of his door, fishing for his keys somewhere in his pockets before unlocking it and stepping inside.
He takes off his jacket and shoes before heading straight to his studio. Dropping into his chair in front of his desk, he turns on his computer.
Niceeee, Kai sent the lyrics on time.
He taps on the document right away. A frown appears on his face the second he starts scrolling through the lyrics.
„Bend that bitch over, big fat ass bouncing on my dick like a slut, swallow every drop like the whore she is, I own that pussy.“
Yoongi stares at the screen.
Did Kai send the wrong files?
This surely isn‘t the love song he was talking about.
He immediately grabs his phone and calls him.
„Hey Kai…did you send me the right lyrics?“ Yoongi asks.
„The song for your girlfriend?“
„Are you fucking serious?“ Yoongi scoffs.
„Is that how you talk about your girl? What the fuck Kai?“
„Relax, People like stuff like this.“
He doesn't understand. Why is he so fucking pissed? Why is he so pressed?
Isn’t he the one paying for sex?
Yoongi doesn‘t have it in him to deal with this tonight. He closes the document with a tired sigh, shuts down his computer, and makes his way to bed.
His mind is still loud, but eventually, sleep wins.
The next day, Yoongi tries to push his thoughts aside. After all, he was asked to produce the song, not judge the lyrics.
He spends hours trying to produce around the lyrics — adjusting the instrumental, adding new layers, reworking the track over and over again. He tries everything he can, hoping something will soften the lyrics.
Well, it doesn‘t fucking work.
Yoongi leans back in his chair, rubbing a hand over his face as he stares at the screen. The lyrics seem to mock every adjustment he‘s made.
Hours of work, and the song still sounds like shit.
He shuts down his computer and reaches for his jacket.
Weren‘t you the one getting so fucking pressed over those lyrics?
Now you‘re on your way to pay a prostitute to get yourself off.
Right now, he doesn‘t have the patience to sit here and question himself. He‘s stressed, sick of this song, and even more sick of his own thoughts.
He just needs a fucking break.
It’s a pretty normal workday for you.
You’ve had about four clients and made some money. That‘s good enough.
You’re waiting for the next client while sipping on a cold drink. That’s when the door flies open.
Okay… that’s earlier than you thought.
Regardless, you put down your drink, quickly pull your mask back up, and lie down.
You see someone step into the room. He looks very tall and has a large build.
He approaches you hurriedly.
„How much do you take?“ he asks.
„I mean… depends how long you‘re here.“
He doesn't bother discussing it any further. Instead, he yanks down your bra, leaving your tits exposed.
Not that it‘s rare for this to happen, but most clients are decent enough to ask beforehand.
You decide not to intervene. Better to just get it over with than make a fuss.
His hand moves to your legs as he pushes your knees back toward your chest before slamming his dick inside you with one harsh thrust.
Damn…must have been a while since he last got some pussy.
You suck in a sharp breath. Just relax.
He bottoms out immediately, fucking into you with an animalistic pace.
He grabs you from under your shoulders, slamming you against the headboard before burying himself back inside you.
You let out a pained whimper that goes unnoticed as he goes right back to fucking you.
He grabs a fistful of your hair, pulling on it harshly while thrusting even harder.
Fuck you cant take it anymore.
He cuts you off by pressing his hand over your mouth.
He doesn’t stop, it feels like he‘s splitting you open.
„Stop! I can‘t anymore“ you snap.
He glances down at you, almost mockingly, not slowing as his grip on you tightens.
You gather your strength and try to kick him away.
„Fuck off! Right now! Or I'll call the manager,“ you shout.
He suddenly pulls away, hastily fixing his clothes before storming out and slamming the door behind him.
„Hey! You still have to pay me!“ You yell.
You don’t protest any further. He probably didn’t even hear you. You’re just glad he’s gone.
Fuck. What just happened?
You can‘t even blame him. You‘re the one who chose this job. You‘re the dirty fucking slut.
Your whole body aches, sore and still in shock.
Shakily, you fix your hair.
Get yourself together. You should’ve Seen this coming.
You lower yourself back down, staring at the ceiling.
You don’t let yourself think about what just happened.
You just stay still until the sound of the door opening snaps you back into reality.
A man steps into the room quietly. He looks familiar somehow, but you can‘t put your finger on why. He shuts the door behind him before moving closer.
Okay. Just stay professional.
When he finally stands before you, he slowly unzips his pants.
Wait… that’s the same guy from yesterday.
You tense up as soon as you feel his hands on your leg.
Keep it together, Y/N. This is your job.
You feel his tip at your entrance.
Fuck. This is gonna hurt so bad.
The question catches you off guard. Nobody usually bothers to ask.
„H-huh, What?“ You stare at him.
„I asked if you're okay,“ he repeats.
What the fuck. Who does he think he is?
Your boyfriend? Your husband?
„Yeah, I’m fine.“ You pause for a second before adding, „Just continue“
He seems to brush it off, lining himself up again.
He pushes himself in steadily, you wince from the pain immediately, flinching away.
You scramble up, your hands shaking as you try to steady yourself.
„Fuck, did I hurt you?“ he asks.
Tears well up in your eyes.
Why does he fucking care?
„Shit, I’m so sorry. I didn't mean to.“ he blurts out.
Don‘t. Not now. Don‘t you dare cry.
Well, you tried. But you couldn‘t.
Tears run down your cheeks, and you start sobbing uncontrollably.
„Fuck, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,“ Yoongi spirals.
You pull down your mask, breath unsteady while you keep crying.
„No! I'm sorry, I- this is so unprofessional-“ you choke out.
„I really didn‘t mean to hurt you.“ Yoongi says, his voice filled with guilt.
„You didn‘t! You didn‘t hurt me.“
Yoongi lets out a long sigh, getting a good look at your tear-stained face.
He didn‘t hurt you? Fuck, that’s a relief, but then what happend?
He reaches for a tissue nearby and holds it out to you.
You accept it, wiping off your tears.
„I'm sorry,“ you sniffle. „That wasn‘t supposed to happen.“
„Don’t apologize,“ Yoongi says softly. „You don't owe me an explanation. But if you want to talk about it…you can.“
You stay quiet for a moment, your eyes fixed on the tissue in your hands.
„Uhm…the client before you…“ you mumble. „Things just got out of hand.“
You nod slowly, still looking down.
„Do you need a doctor?“ he asks gently
„No… I just—I‘m done for today“ you reply.
„Let me drive you, please“
„No, you don't have to. Really!“
„I want to. It’s the least I can do.“
„I don‘t want to take up your time“
„Relax, I insist.“ he says, giving u a reassuring look.
You hesitate for a moment before finally nodding.
You slowly get up, pulling your long coat around yourself. The soreness catches up with you as soon as you‘re standing, and you move carefully, having to steady yourself for a moment.
Yoongi notices immediately.
You open your mouth to refuse, but he simply holds out his arm.
„Here, hold onto my arm.“
You take the offer, holding onto his arm as he helps you walk. His expression shifts when he realises how much you’re struggling.
„You were seriously planning on walking home like this?“ he asks, raising an eyebrow.
He huffs quietly, almost amused.
„Right. Because that makes it any better.“
You don’t answer, but you let him help you the rest of the way to the car.
When you reach it, he opens the door for you and waits until you‘re settled before walking around to the driver’s side. After asking for your address, he starts the car and drives off.
The car ride is silent, neither of you say anything.
After a few minutes, Yoongi suddenly pulls at a convenience store.
You glance over at him, confused.
„I‘ll get you something to eat“ he murmurs, already reaching for the door.
You quickly shake your head.
„No, really. I don‘t need anything.“
„I was gonna get something for myself anyway.“ he says, shrugging slightly.
Before you can argue again, he steps out of the car.
A few minutes later, he comes back with two sandwiches and hands one to you.
„Yes, thank you. You seriously didn‘t have to do all this.“ You respond
Soon, you’re quietly eating beside him.
Yoongi glances over at you.
„If it doesn‘t get any better, you should see a doctor,“ he says. „Don‘t just ignore it.“
He nods, seeming satisfied by that.
Eventually, the car slows down as he pulls up in front of your place.
You look out the window for a moment before reaching for the door handle.
„Thank you,“ you say, turning back to him.
Yoongi nods, his expression softening.
„Don‘t mention it.“ he replies.
Before you can step out, he speaks.
„What‘s your name?“ Yoongi asks.
He hums in acknowledgement.
„Bye, thanks again.“ you say before stepping out of the car.
„Take care.“ he responds.
You close the door behind you and walk inside, watching the car leave from the corner of your eye.
