🍹GO GO JUICE 🍹 YOONGI +18
Synopsis: Between glasses of cheap wine, late-night texts, and one irresistible heartthrob, a blonde with great boobs decides to cross the city at midnight just to prove that lust and shamelessness walk hand in hand (with a little help from alcohol).
Warnings: Unprotected sex, masturbation.
Can't lie, whole week's been tough
No party invitations, not going to the club
Won’t lie: the whole week has been rough. No party invitations, no clubs, no nightlife.
From my apartment, which is on a very high floor, just so you know, I can hear the buzz of the streets below. Laughter, people talking, music blasting from some bars, people coming and going from parties. I was always told that living downtown wasn’t the best idea, but… well, I’m a specialist in making questionable decisions. And you’ll notice that very soon.
I pour a glass of wine to the brim. Today, no invitations to parties. My flirty friends are too busy with their princes charming, and the singles… I don’t know, they seem to have gone on some kind of voluntary celibacy retreat. I’m also on that retreat, only mine is involuntary.
I sip the first glass. Without realizing, I’m almost at the bottom. My goal? Liquid courage. I need some guts to do something that should be simple: call a guy I’ve had an intimate encounter with. That’s it. Simple. But when it comes to him, nothing ever seems simple.
My phone vibrates on the table. I grab it, scrolling through contacts. Some names… okay, some would practically beg to see me in seconds, not that I slept with them, but I could have, I just didn’t want to. But one in particular shines like neon: Min Yoongi, or better, as it’s saved in my phone, Mr. Min Sim, yes, the one you’re thinking of. The member of the world-famous group, BTS.
You’re probably thinking: “Ah, it was just once, a fluke, a fangirl moment.” I thought the same after realizing who the handsome guy I went to bed with on our first date really was, if I can even call that a date.
We met at a fashion and celebrity brand party, cliché, I know. I was there as a professional gatecrasher, even though I work in public relations, filling in for a journalist friend from my company. It felt a bit Fifty Shades of Grey. I was just representing the magazine. The problem? From the first moment I laid eyes on him, I found him irresistible. Mix that with high-quality drinks, and there I was, staring at the man like a psycho.
I approached quietly, giggling here and there, chatting with some colleagues, and decided to go to the bar where he was camping out and ordered a drink, sitting next to him. In the middle of a conversation with nearby people, I noticed he wasn’t laughing at anything. Nothing. Until, at the height of my alcohol-fueled courage, I blurted out:
"Are you going to stay quiet, hottie? Not everyone gets the chance to talk to a blonde with beautiful breasts." I said, taking another sip of my drink.
He laughed. And when Yoongi laughs, it feels like the universe leans in just to watch.
“I’m flattered, believe me,” he said, also not sober. He drank whiskey like it was water, and I got lost in that mix of alcohol, cigarette smoke, and something indefinable that clung to his skin. In short? I kissed him. And… other things happened in the hotel room. Both of us struggling, barely able to get our clothes off, my clearest memory is him on top of me, looking into my eyes, murmuring low:
"Truly, beautiful breasts."
The next day, I practically ran out. He ordered my Uber and demanded my phone number to, according to him, ensure my safety home. And that’s exactly what he did. As soon as I told him I was safe, he just thanked me for the night and that was it. I was sure I would never see the best sex of my life again.
The next day, a notification on my phone. A profile with fewer than 100 followers. It was him. I showed my friend, who nearly fell off her chair.
“You have no idea who he is,” she said, opening Google. When I saw the photo, I thought he was a Valentino designer, considering his clothes were from the brand and he had a Wikipedia page, but soon my jaw dropped when I realized what was going on. Mr. Min hadn’t told me what he did; I had guessed. And indeed, Mr. Min really was Yoongi, but also Suga and Agust D too.
And when I realized it, I was messaging one of the biggest artists in the world.
Even though he was as closed as a Swiss vault, he was attentive to me. Asking where I was, with whom, sending short messages. Sometimes it seemed genuine interest, sometimes just “inventory maintenance.” Doesn’t matter. I fell into the trap: I liked Mr. Min.
The second time we met, nothing happened. A Valentino event. He was talking to another girl but looked at me as if he were undressing me with just the corner of his eyes. He smiled sideways, that irritating and delicious smile that said, “I remember every detail.”
I did my best and stayed completely composed. The urge to ask if he had some problem was strong, but come on, I was just a hookup, right?
He made me even more annoyed when, after all that charade, he sent a message asking if I got home safely, apologizing, saying I looked beautiful, and that he would dream about me for a month. Okay, I took artistic liberty imagining that last part.
Now, here I am, almost a month later, almost no interaction between us as if he were avoiding me, second glass of wine. His private Instagram open on my phone for almost an hour. Last post: “367 still blonde-less.” An indirect as subtle as a sledgehammer. I knew very well it was for me, not that I’m the only blonde in the city.
Finally, I start feeling like smiling for no reason, and contacting him doesn’t even feel humiliating. I’m ready to finish what I started. I touch up my lipstick, add some gloss, grab my pink bag to match my underwear, slip on my black heels, and head out to hail a taxi. For the first time, I’m the one starting a conversation:
Ring, ring, ring, yeah, it's super important (how many shots in an ounce?)
I might have double vision, but that is irrelevant right now (answer me, baby, um, are you in town?)
Y/N: "Hey, Mr. Min, how are you?" I type and say it aloud still on the sidewalk, almost giggling.
The reply comes in seconds. Before responding, I enter the taxi and give the address I remember.
Mr. Min: "Hey, blonde girl. I’m having a drink. And you?"
My heart does a triple backflip. Now I really can’t back out.
Y/N: "I’m great. Had some wine and I’m about to do something a little crazy. Believe it?"
Mr. Min: "Drinking alone or with someone? What kind of crazy? Are you in danger?"
Y/N: "Alone. What kind of crazy can a girl drinking alone get into?"
No time to laugh at my own boldness. The phone starts ringing. Yoongi. I think: answer or not?
Does he deserve it? Definitely not. I don’t answer.
Messages start popping up:
“Umm, he’s so concerned about me. I think it’s so cute, you know?” I say to the driver, who just nods with a weird look.
Mr. Min: "Pick up."
Mr. Min: "What do you think you’re doing?"
Mr. Min: "It’s very late, go to sleep."
Mr. Min: "You’re not in your right mind."
Mr. Min: "Enough. I’m coming to find you."
That last one scares me. It wasn’t part of the plan for him to leave the hotel. Men, always ruining the perfect script.
I get out of the taxi, not without first thanking the driver — always be polite. I face the mirrored building. Luxurious, cream tones and shiny porcelain in the lobby as soon as I pass through the door. My phone vibrates again:
Y/N: "Baby, if I answer, promise you’ll stay exactly where you are?"
Instead of a message, he calls.
"Where are you?" he asks sharply, I feel like when I used to sneak out to a party and my dad found out. Good times.
I enter the lobby like I own the place, flashing my magazine badge. Totally unethical. Don’t do this, girls. But I was in full BHD crisis: Bursting with Horny Desire.
The receptionist just waves and I wave back in agreement.
He sighs on the other side of the line. At this point, the patience in that body had already run out:
"I know you’re walking. I can hear your quickened breathing. Are you going to meet someone?" Since when is he a cardio specialist?
"Exactly. I’m going to meet someone."
On the other side, silence weighed heavy. I hear a deep sigh, I feel like he’s about to have a heart attack, I can even visualize the veins on his forehead popping, I don’t know. I press the doorbell. The sound echoes through the phone, I notice him moving toward the door and he stops for a few seconds.
And then… the door opens.
An angry, sexy Yoongi, in a black robe loosely tied. One shoulder holding the phone, one hand on the doorknob, the other on a glass of whiskey.
“Surprise!” I say, raising the half-full wine bottle.
He looks me over from head to toe. Silence. One eyebrow raised.
I enter as if it were my house. I drop my shoes in the corner.
“Good evening to you too, Mr. Min.”
And there, in the most expensive suite in New York, with cheap wine in my hand and him still deciding whether to kiss me or kill me.
I’m just drinking to call someone.
Ain’t nobody safe when I’m a little bit drunk.
Yoongi had been thinking a lot lately, more than a normal brain could handle. He remembered perfectly what made him so nervous every time New York was mentioned. Possible photo shoot in New York, possible show in New York, possible event in New York. New York. New York. New York. New York.
Of course, he remembered who was to blame for this nervousness. He remembered when he saw her and how she laughed the entire night, both already slightly drunk. He didn’t fail to notice when the girl said:
“You’ve been working at Valentino for a while, right? You don’t answer, but judging by your style, you must be desired by everyone.”
He didn’t refute, didn’t say who he was. He hoped no one would arrive and talk too. He didn’t lie, he just preferred the anonymity of one night. But knowing her personality, the fear was clear: that she would pull away if she found out who he really was.
During the interaction, both drank even more. He wasn’t too drunk, but the nervousness and long exchange of glances made him more anxious. Yoongi was a quiet guy, seemed serious most of the time.
The next day, he sent a message under the excuse of checking if she got home safely, even knowing she had left with a private driver. He said he would call the Uber for her. He didn’t lie, but left room for ambiguity.
He logged into Instagram through the private profile he had only for close friends. Tried to search her name, no results. Went to the company site and looked through the team photos one by one, until he found her. A company party. She was smiling next to a red-haired girl, wearing black tailored pants and a light blue blouse with ruffles, hair tied in a messy ponytail, a glass in her hand.
He entered the profile that only had her last name and started looking at the photos. Many professional parties, events… and a photo at the beach.
Yoongi started questioning his sanity when he decided to press the follow button. He blocked the screen. Soon, the response: it was accepted and she had requested to follow him as well, which he immediately allowed.
When he saw her a second time, he considered the possibility that she already knew who he was, and that was one of the reasons he hesitated to approach, worried she might think he was a jerk, a player. But another reason he kept his distance was that the event was filling with cameras everywhere, he didn’t want to be caught talking to her, in case it leaked, if someone noticed, if anyone realized how much he was fawning over her, it would ruin her life just because of a whim. He even sent a few messages, but each time he distanced himself from the idea out of fear.
He was used to people chasing him, trying to win him over, following the ritual of innocence.
When he returned to the city, he didn’t want to seem desperate to find her. He wasn’t even sure he wanted to. She smelled like trouble. So he decided to just post a photo of the window view, with the room number in the caption. He tried to deceive himself, but hoped it would have some effect.
Especially when she decided to send a message. The first time she started a conversation with him.
When he realized the blonde might be going to meet someone else right after drinking wine, he completely lost it. He was ready to go to her apartment (he had gotten the address from the driver) or drive around the city until he found her. His stomach churned, anger flared. Imagining her teasing another man made him sick.
He poured another glass of whiskey and started searching for his wallet, already loosening the robe. He needed to find clothes fast to go after that damn girl.
The doorbell rings. He opens.
The blonde is there, holding a bottle of wine, wearing a black dress closed at the bust, but short, black thigh-high stockings, and stiletto heels.
“Surprise.” The initial shock was evident.
He was sure it wasn’t a mirage when she passed by him, letting out a low “excuse me,” leaving that irresistible scent of blackberry and lemon in the air, the same from the first meeting.
“Good evening to you too, Mr. Min,” she said, eyebrow raised, in a provocative and charming tone.
“You are trouble,” he replied, disoriented, following her steps across the large room.
This time, the view was a thousand times better than the first encounter. He watched her, dazzled, eyes shining at the chandelier, the big TV, the sofa, the mini kitchen, the corridor. He noticed she lingered on the corridor for a few extra seconds, but ignored it.
A throat sound brought him back.
“Mr. Min, after so long without seeing each other, is this how you treat me? Please get me a glass, or I’ll have to drink from the bottle, and that’s not elegant.”
The way the last name left her lips sent shivers down him.
She raises the wine glass and lightly taps the rim of the table, impatient.
“You’re just going to stare at me with that frown, Mr. Min?” she says, raising her eyebrow. “I thought big stars were better hosts.”
Yoongi, leaning against the doorframe, crosses his arms. She knew it.
The loosely tied black robe reveals part of his chest and collarbone. “You invaded my room and still want to be served like a queen?” his deep voice resonates.
“I don’t want to be a queen,” she takes a direct sip from the bottle, making a face and then laughing. “I just want a glass. Or are you going to let me drink like a commoner?”
He rolls his eyes, but his mouth threatens a contained smile. He walks to the small kitchen, grabs a whiskey glass, and hands it to her. When she reaches for it, he doesn’t let go immediately.
“You are trouble,” he repeats firmly, keeping his eyes locked on hers.
“I know,” she responds, amused. “But you like trouble, don’t you, Yoongi? Scandals.”
For a second, his seriousness falters. The corner of his mouth curves into a half-smile. He steps closer, just enough for her perfume to infiltrate the air.
“I like silence,” he says, voice hoarse but low. “Calm.”
“Then too bad for you,” she smiles, tilting her head. “I talk a lot.”
She takes a sip from the glass and steps even closer, shortening the space between them. He lets out a nasal, almost mocking laugh, but his breathing is already heavier.
“You are unbearable,” he murmurs, placing the glass on the counter behind her, pinning her.
“And you love it,” she replies, her voice full of challenge, trying to match his tone, but she feels things heating up.
For a few seconds, silence weighs. Only the sound of their breathing. He tilts his face, lips almost touching the corner of her mouth, but doesn’t kiss. The naughty tease. She laughs softly.
“Scared?”
The word hits hard on his ego. Yoongi lets out a heavy sigh of irritation, grabs her waist firmly. “You’re going to kill me yet.”
“Then die happy, Min.”
“You know I never give in,” he murmurs softly, but his hand slides to her waist, pulling her slightly closer.
She lets out a husky laugh.
“Never? Then let’s play ‘who gives up first.’” She tilts her head, almost touching his mouth again.
He lets out a low groan, irritated and aroused at the same time.
“You’re diabolical,” he growls, unable to hide his smile now.
“Diabolical?” she repeats, laughing even louder, stumbling slightly on her heels and almost falling onto him. “I prefer ‘incredibly fun.’”
His robe slips even further, chest exposed, and she can’t resist:
“My God, Mr. Min… you’re really challenging me, huh?”
He grabs the glass of whiskey with one hand, holding her with the other, leaning in close.
“Challenge accepted, blonde,” he murmurs softly. “But I warn you, I have zero patience when it comes to… dangerous games.” He wanted to add “with you,” but held back.
She takes a long swig straight from the wine bottle, ignoring the glass, almost choking on purpose.
“Dangerous games? I love danger,” she laughs, spitting a little wine back, making him laugh too.
“Dangerous games? I love danger,” she repeats, laughing, spitting a few drops onto his shoulder.
Yoongi swallows, brushing his shirt lightly, irritated but amused.
“Careful, blonde,” he says, voice deep, but almost laughing. “You’re attacking me with alcohol and a smile. Is this… a war tactic?”
“Ah, of course!” she responds, taking a long sip and almost spilling wine on the floor. “If this isn’t a declared war, I don’t know what is.” She leans closer, stumbling slightly just to provoke. “Let’s see if you can hold yourself without laughing.”
He crosses his arms, trying to look serious, but the corner of his mouth twitches.
“I don’t laugh easily… but you’re trying way too hard. That’s unfair.”
She pretends to think, resting her hand on her chin.
“Unfair? Me? Never! I’m just testing your… patience.” She steps closer, eyes mischievous. “So, Mr. Min, can you control yourself, or will you let me win?”
Yoongi notices the double meaning in her words.
He lets out a low, almost hoarse laugh.
“Win? You?” He raises an eyebrow and leans his face closer, the smell of whiskey and wine in the air.
The smell of whiskey mixed with wine hung in the air.
“Who’s out at…” He glanced at his wristwatch. “One in the morning, leaving home, coming to a hotel to meet someone? Not me.”
She pretends to lean on the counter, but in reality, she invades his space, leaving them just inches apart.
“I don’t get what you’re trying to say.” She raises one eyebrow slightly. “I’d say it’s… a conquest strategy.” She winks, making Yoongi choke slightly on his own breath.
He rolls his eyes, but his breathing is heavy.
“Strategist and drunk… perfect combination.” He mutters more to himself than to her. For a moment, he holds back a laugh, but can’t. “You’re impossible.”
“Impossible?” She mimics his voice, teasing. “Look who’s talking, Mr. Worldwide Popstar, with control tendencies.”
He laughs, low and hoarse, moving closer until their foreheads almost touch.
“I’m not controlling with everyone, I just know I can control you,” he whispers. “I don’t need to say it, you already know.”
She bursts out laughing, tapping the wine bottle lightly on the counter.
“Then show me, Mr. Min. Convince me you can control me before I spill wine on your head.”
Before she could even finish her sentence, she felt her body being pulled and placed on the counter. With a strong tug, Yoongi parted her legs and positioned himself between them, his hands on her waist and one reaching up to her hair. She felt a burning sensation on her scalp, and her head was brutally pulled back, exposing the entire length of her neck. She felt his wet tongue swiping gently at first, then reaching the underside of her ear and a bite on her shoulder.
"You have no idea how many handjobs I've had thinking about you these past two months," he grunted in a harsh whisper. Y/N rolled her eyes and felt herself getting so wet she was soaking wet. She couldn't process what was happening; she felt weak for giving in so quickly to the guy, who must have had a high ego, hearing the soft moans coming from her mouth. For tonight, she would blame the wine, since she couldn't even feel ashamed for having achieved her goal.
Yoongi's hand began to move lower as he continued to nibble on her neck. She lifted her dress slightly, not that it needed much, pushed her underwear aside, and began to feel.
Yoongi’s hand started to move down while he continued nipping at her neck. She slightly lifted her dress, not that it took much effort, pushed her underwear aside, and began to feel.
She heard the soft giggle near her ear, but instead of getting angry, she became more excited because he seemed pleased with the outcome.
She felt him massage her clit and soon she was melting, sniffling and begging for more.
The door slammed loudly. Y/N tried to look, but Yoongi pulled her hair harder, forcing her to stay exactly where she was.
“Oh my God, sorry,” she heard a male voice, and just by the tone, she was sure the man must be in shock. “Get out of here!”
And the sound of the door closing… Her heart raced; her cheeks flushed intensely, and even though she was aware of what was happening, her body reacted. The internal heat rose quickly, almost to the limit, and just as she was about to reach it, everything stopped.
Immediately, Yoongi scratched the hand that had previously been pressing against the blonde’s face, forcing her to pout, and brought their faces so close that they were breathing each other’s air. “Look at my mouth and pay attention to who you’re talking to. Next time something like this happens, I’ll take my phone, call my driver, and you’ll go straight home. Understood?” Even if she wanted to disagree, the hand on her face dominated, forcing her to nod. “That’s what I thought.”
She was lifted to her feet and turned to face the table, feeling the man’s chest pressed against her back, pushing her against the countertop. Would it be horrible to admit that it had aroused her?
The dress was pulled up to her waist.
“Garter belt, all of this just for me?” He spoke more to himself than to her. She heard the metallic sound of his zipper being undone and fabric falling to the floor and landing at her feet. Yoongi fastened himself and pulled her by the hips so that her butt was fully lifted and pressed against the table, her breasts touching the countertop. It was so good when she remembered.
He pushed her panties aside, and even though he wanted to be rough at that moment, he couldn't fully penetrate her. He received a long, heavy sigh in response. He waited a moment for her to adjust, and the response came in noises. She began to press herself in harder, receiving a strong squeeze in response. "What did I say?"
She let out a laugh and considered teasing again, but before she could, a loud crack and a pain hit her buttocks. "Did he hit me? Things are different from last time."
Yoongi began to move slowly, harder, trying to go as deep as he could, feeling her inner walls tighten. "Looks like I was your last fuck, huh?" Her response came in a soft moan. "Faster, please."
Other times, he would torture her to the end, but he was also at his peak. He wanted to break her, to destroy her, to make her miss him as much as he missed her. He stared at the white ceiling for a few minutes, trying to ignore the urge to cum. He thought it would sound pathetic if it happened so quickly, but he got closer and closer. When he looked back at the blonde, he followed her gaze, seeing his cock disappearing into her perfect, round ass, the black dress completely bunched around her waist, the pink lace panties almost ripped with a heart pendant. He thought about laughing for finding it cute in that moment and in that situation. It didn't last long when he looked up and noticed the woman's head tilted back, embodying him with a sideways smile, a naughty expression.
He knew he must be sweating now, his face completely red, completely broken by the whole situation, until he heard, "I'm going to cum, don't stop!" He felt his cock being squeezed and everything getting wetter (if possible), feeling the liquid slipping and rolling through the small hairs on his thighs, and he couldn't take it anymore. "Fuck," he growled; it was the only thing he could think of until he finished inside. Under no circumstances would Yoongi do that, but the last thing he thought of was a condom. In fact, he even had a moment of consciousness, but the urge to feel him completely was stronger.
"I think we should go take a shower, Mr. Min." He took off his shoes and, without looking, followed her down the hallway.
They slept together, and at dawn, the only thing he found was a note.
Mr. Min, I hope you're in New York as soon as possible. As soon as that happens, I'll have my wine by my side.
“Hey.” The bedroom door opened abruptly, and he found her looking a bit disheveled from the previous night, with the light from outside making her look like an angel descending straight from heaven to meet him. “Well, I know what I wrote, but I forgot to write one thing. Can you give me back the paper?” Then he noticed the pink mug in her hand, the same color as the note was written on.
Still in shock and lying down, he stretched the paper in her direction. She grabbed it quickly and walked toward a table in the corner opposite the door, not even sitting down—just leaning. In less than a minute, she turned back, holding the paper with both hands and wearing an excited look.
She walked slowly to the bed and handed him the paper. Yoongi took it with a confused, completely lost look.
“Don’t read it now. Wait until I leave. So… bye.” She leaned in and placed a small kiss on the corner of his lips and, within seconds, headed toward the door, not without repeating, “I’m watching you,” before disappearing down the hallway.
He heard the sound of her heels growing fainter and fainter, the elevator carrying her away, and then the door closed.
In very small handwriting, it said:
P.S.: Want to go out with me?
Yoongi laughed and couldn’t explain why, but he felt certain that one of the members had a hand in this.
Yoongi was more lost than ever.
I miss you and I think about you every minute
If you're still disinterested in me, well, fuck
