about me: you can call me v | she/her | 23 | đ˛đ˝ | forever a checo pĂŠrez & max verstappen girl | matcha girl always đľ
interests: harry styles | f1 | the pitt | animal kingdom | olivia rodrigo | bts | reading | demon slayer | snoopy
who/what i write for: currently obsessed with shawn (heâs literally engraved into my brain) the pitt (robby, shark, langdon, whitaker) f1 (max only FOR NOW) and slowly introducing more harry & bts to this account
masterlist
requests: open!! please be kind and patient đŤśđź i do this in my free time (full-time student + full-time job life lol) i write when inspiration hits, so iâd rather take my time than give you something iâm not proud of
summary: Jimin didnât like you. He didnât like your quick remarks, your witty humor, the way you talked, the way you walk, the way your boyfriendâ his best friendâ was always bringing you to the hangouts. The way you talked to him⌠Jimin just didnât like you. So he didnât know why he was about to fuck you in a dark closet while all your friends were looking for you two.
genre/warming: literally porn with a little plot. / fingering, penetration, unprotected sex, a LOT of dirty cringy sexual talk, a lot of cursing. mentions of cheating.
authors note: GUYS IM HIGH AND I WROTE THIS AN HOUR AGO CUZ I WAS HAVING A BAD TRIP BUT NOW IM OKAY, and iâm ovulating. okay ill go to sleep now and âll regret it tomorrow meanwhile have fun yayy loveu<33 hope is not ass (not edited)
word count: +8k words.
Jimin was definitely aware he wasnât supposed to think about you the way he did.
But he wouldnât admit it. Not to his friends, not to the world, not to youâ definitely not to youâ and definitely not to himself. He couldnât. Not because he wasnât aware but because he knew that if he thought for just one second the reason why he didnât like you⌠well, problems could and will show up.
Jimin was shy. He considered himself a really shy person when he was out of stage and not performing in front of people in any way. He didnât like the attention too much but he always had a way to get it anyway. People always looked at him, sometimes more than they should. And he knew that, he knew he had that effect on people. He knew he could just break a smile or say something and the other person would be dancing around his little finger.
He always tried not to draw that attention to him. The last couple of years he had become aware that he had grown into this man that knew what he wanted and loved his work. Jimin was a man now. He didnât feel the need to pretend he had a very manly masculinity nor act to seek for attention and validation. He wasnât a teenage boy anymore. He was a grown man with friends, with people he cherish and that cherish him back. He didnât feel that he had to steal the attention of someone to feel important anymoreâŚ
Except there was one problem.
Jimin wouldnât consider you his friend. He could actually said he didnât like you one bit. You were just his best friendâs girlfriend. Hoseokâs girlfriend. A girl who appeared a year ago hand to hand with his friend, who was quickly the type of woman Jimin knew his friend would go for. You were the definition of Hoseokâs wild fantasy of perfect woman.
You were stupidly smart, sarcastic, easygoing, very extroverted and, incredibly and ridiculously, sexy. It wasnât just your figure or face that was sexy, but your personality. The way you talked, the way you moved. It always seemed that you were flirting even when you werenât. You always seemed one step to fuck or slap anyone and no one really knew which one was accurate. But God, you were just so annoyingly perfect.
Of course it didnât take you more than a month before everyone was eating from the palm of your hand. Usually the partners of his friends were just that, partners who were friendly, girlfriends who were just nice to have around in the group. But you broke the rule. Everyone didnât see you anymore as Hobiâs girlfriend but as an addition to the group. Even when Hobi couldnât make it they would just invite you. Everyone loved you. Everyone loved having you around.
And, fucking Christ, Jimin hated it.
He hated the way you were always ready for a smart comment. The way you smiled when someone said something nice about you. The way you were always walking with so much security. He hated the way you always threw your hair back and the way your clavicle would show. Jimin hated the way you licked your lips after eating something, the way you always wore those short skirts, the way Hoseok always had you in his lap. He hated the way you smelled. The way you always were too close to him, the way you always were watching him like you knew.
Like you knew what he was thinking.
And the worst thing was: you probably knew.
Jimin wasnât a hypocrite, but he was shy. He didnât like making a person a problem. He didnât like confrontation when it was avoidable. He knew he didnât actually have a reason to hate you. What could really be? â I just think youâre too much⌠yourself. I donât like you? â That wouldnât really work⌠and it wasnât really true. So he stayed quiet, not really dealing with it, not really thinking about it either.
He was polite, polite enough to smile at you, polite enough to laugh at your jokes, polite enough to talk with you about trivial stuff, polite enough to look the other way when you bend down, polite enough to pretend he wasnât aware the way Hobi kissed your cheeks or whisper dirty thing in your ear. polite enough to pretend he⌠liked you. Polite enough to pretend he wasnât aware of you.
Jimin was shy.
But, oh, how a couple of drinks could just fucked him up.
It was Friday night. Jimin found himself at Jungkookâs house with a couple of friends and a lot of drinks. There was almost fifteen people, everyone had been drinking and the music was a little too loud to be a small gathering. But he didnât mind. Not when he was having a great conversation and drinking his way into not thinking the two people that was missing the first hours.
Of course, you showed up with Hoseok two hours later than agreed. His best friend was quickly to greet everyone before settling down into a small group to talk with them. Jimin thought it was weird how he didnât pull you over to him like always. You greeted everyone before falling next to Jungkookâs side, touching his new piercing without any shame. If there was one thing about you: you werenât shy. At least not by any means he knew. You were just as social as Hobi, he knew thatâs why you would never say no to a drink, a game or a conversation.
He looked away, not really trying to find anything. He just continue drinking with his friends as so did you.
Two hours later everyone was drunk.
Jimin was trying to hold it together. He didnât want to look so drunk, even if he knew everyone was already fucked up. But it was fun. His thoughts stopped for a moment, everything was really quiet, he didnât feel like throwing up yet which was a good sign. It was just perfect state of drunkenness. The one you felt like everything was so good.
Hong, a long friend of the group, stood up on a tiny living-room table before calling everyoneâs attention. He was definitely drunk too. He always had that convincing smile that would fool everyone. Hong was always that type of friend that always proposed a stupid game. It always went in two ways: everyone agreed, everyone booed. It was always fun which one would be the result of it. When Jimin looked around, he knew everyone was more likely to agreed.
He found you sitting with a group of friends, with a bottle of soju in your hands.
âLetâs play hide and seek.â
Everyone cheered.
Ah, shit.
Twenty minutes later and with a bad roulette website, the game started. Hoseok and other two were the seekers, the rest would hide. The rules were simple, because they couldnât leave the house the seekers would just have to use a garment around their eyes so the game could last a little more. No one should move from their place if the seeker was close.
The game started.
Jungkookâs house was big. But it wasnât really very easy to hide, specially since he didnât have many things around. Luckily for Jimin, he found the perfect spot: a small closet in his guest roomâ inside the actual big room closetâ, that it seemed it was to save shoes or even a couple of jackets, Jungkook just had a couple of winter clothes in there and a lot of boxes on the right side so it was perfect for Jimin to just lay in the left side behind all the clothes. It was a good spot, specially since it was dark as hell. He really barely had space to move around and one of the small doors of the closet wasnât able to open.
Perfect.
It was almost five minutes of him just standing there without being able to watch anythingâ too drunk to even understand how much time had passedâ when he heard a noise. It was soft. Then another one, this one harder.
âFucking shit,â he heard a small complain before the closetâs left door opened.
Fucking shit indeed; Jmin thought.
Jungkookâs house was annoyingly dark, even worse because everything was damn black, so getting a sight of you by the little brightness of his phone and the smell of your perfume was how he recognized you.
âWhat are you doing?â he whispered to you.
You couldnât hide there with him. No, hell no.
âThey almost found me,â you said before looking at your leg. âI almost tripped too. It really hurtâŚâ
âYou canâtââ
There was a rumble.
You were quick to push him inside, closing the wood door behind you.
It was dark. You couldnât see each other, barely even able to see around. But Jimin could feel you. He could feel your body pressed to him. He could feel your naked tights almost too close to his. He could feel your chest almost touching his. He could feel your breath hitting his jaw. He could feel your hand still touching his right shoulder after shoving him inside. He didnât like itâŚ
No, he didnât.
He didnât like the way the closet felt smaller than it was. He didnât like that he couldnât see you right. He didnât like that his back was pressed hard against wall of the closet, the way the jackets were bothering the side of his arm or the way you were too close to him. He didnât like the way he could only focus on your breathing and your perfume. He didnât like the way your hands were sliding into his arms.
And he didnât like the way you pushed yourself closer to him. The way your body felt pressed against his.
âSorry, I donât really have space to move and this damn wood is killing my lower back.â You whispered to him.
Jimin swallowed hard. Your other hands found his other arm to keep you steady. You were drunk too. He could see the way you were trying to hold it together in those high heels boots you were wearing. He hated your heels too, making your legs look longer, prettier⌠sexier.
âThis space is really small,â Jimin said, voice low. His hands and body still as rock. He could still feel his brain a little fucked, dizziness in between.
âI know.â
Silence.
He sighed. He didnât know what to say. He didnât want to make you leave, it would be rude. But you both were too close and he didnât really like that. He didnât like that he could feel your breath hitting his face, he didnât like the way your warm body was touching his, the way your breast were brushing his chest, he didnât like that the only thing apart was your clothes. He didnât like the way he couldnât see you at all, but he could definitely feel you.
You moved. Your hands trying to look for something in your boots, in that small space before finding it. Your phone.
âDo you think if I turned the light it will show outside?â you asked him in a whisper.
âI donât think so,â he denied. âAnyway theyâre blindfolded.â
âRight.â
Click.
Your phone felt to the floor. Jimin didnât know why he was so quick to wrapped his arm around your waist, pushing you closer to him. The palm of his other hand immediately covering your mouth.
The light from the floor was next to you both. He could see your eyes now, he could see your face better. Your dark drunk eyes looking at him while he was trying to not be heard by whoever entered the room. There was a stomp, then another one. A curse. The right door of the closet shook but it didnât open. Your nails squeezed Jiminâs arms, like you were afraid of being caught even if it was a game. He looked at the door. Another stomp. Stomp. Jimin looked around, trying to catch a sound.
And then silence.
Jimin looked at you. Now you were pressed completely against him. He was in a short-sleeved shirt, your thin oversized sweater wasnât doing much covering your warm body. He breathed out. He could feel your cold hands still on his arms, holding yourself while looking at him. Still watching him like you were waiting his next move, still very much fucked up. He hated the way he could feel your lips under his palm. He hated the way he could feel you werenât wearing a bra. And he hated the way your breasts were squeezed against his chest.
Shit, he was getting hard.
âSorry,â he lied, slowly moving his hand out of your mouth. âReflex.â
âItâs fine.â
âShould weâ should we just leave?â he suggested, trying to not stutter.
By the low light he saw you frowned slightly. âAnd lose?â
âWeâre probably going to stay here a long time.â
âI found this place quickly. Theyâre probably going to found it soon too.â You shrugged.
âRight, yeah. I guess youâre right.â
Your expression didnât change but your voice did. A little lower, a little slower.
âWhy? Does it bother you spending time with me?â
You were looking at him in the eyes. His arm was still holding you. And he hated it because he didnât want to move it. His eyes draw your face, your nose, your pink lips, your narrowed eyes, your blushed cheeks. He clenched his jaw, hard. He just⌠he just couldnât stand you. You were so⌠frustrating.
âWhy would you think that?.â he asked, pretending to be confused.
Your expression didnât move. You didnât even glanced like you knew. But he swore he could see it anyway. A spark or something similar, like you actually knew the reason why he despised you. Maybe he was too drunk, maybe the guilt was catching up with his realization.
âI was just asking.â
âItâs just a very⌠small place.â He tried to explain.
âAnd weâre too close?â
âItâs justââ
âProximity scares you?â You chuckled at him before leaning slightly. âI noticed your hair is blonde again.â Your hands found his hair, he was startled for a second. It wasnât a weird action, you were just pointing out the obvious. Jimin didnât like how you didnât even ask for permission like his other friends would. You werenât shy with him. You probably didnât know what he was thinking about you. âIt suits you.â
Jimin felt your fingers sinking in his hair, feeling them move with a softness. He almost groan at the sensation, your fingers making a mess of his hair but he didnât care. His eyes narrowed, he looked at you. Your expression still unbothered, like you werenât doing something out of place. As if you werenât touching your best friend boyfriendâs hair while he hold you against him like a damn blanket wrapped around his body.
âIf anyone opens that door,â he whispered. He found himself hearing his voice lower, deeper. His heart started beating faster. âTheyâre going to take it the wrong way.â
You looked at him. He wanted to touch your chest, feel if your heart was beating the same way his was. His ears were ringing, there was something growing, a tension he had been trying to hide, that he had been trying to keep buried. But he could feel it crashing into him slowly.
âThen you have to let go.â
Jimin felt his cheeks getting warmer, the arm around your waist fell to his side and he cleared his throat. âSorry, I shouldââ
âShould I move to the side?â you questioned, ignoring him. âThere are boxes and the door doesnât open but⌠Shit, itâs too small. Move with me so I can put the jackets there.â
Jimin didnât know what the fuck you or him were doing. But you were moving the jackets to his side and trying to get closer to the boxes that were blocking half of the right door that couldnât be open. It really was just half a step but you tried to move and Jimin was shoved to the wall again, this time with the jackets on his right and the boxes to his left. You sighed frustrated, still very close to him.
âI donât think this is working,â he said.
âLet meââ You pushed him closer to the wall while trying to turning around. He complained a little at the harsh action. ââ Is this better?â
It wasnât.
It wasnât at all.
Nop.
Jimin ran his hands over his face, trying to stop his nasty thoughts. He hated that your phone was still on the floor, that the light was giving him the perfect sight of your back hitting his chest, your ass in that short skirt brushing his pants. He hated it. He hated it so much. He hated you.
âMaybe we shouldââ
âFound you!â
Your back hit his body hard. He moaned at the motion, immediately grabbing your hips at the sudden action. Your hands went to your mouth to maintain silence. Jimin pressed his lips, throwing his head back to the wall and looking at the ceiling, trying to look another thing that wasnât your body.
He heard the voice echoed outside. Someone had been found in the bedroom.
There was a couple of noises, mumbles that you both couldnât understand. Jimin could feel his head going in circles, his thoughts overlapping each other. He hated it what was happening.
He hated feeling you like that. He hated how the alcohol was hitting him in the way that shame or his shyness werenât anywhere to be found. He hated the way you had found that space, the way your body was pressed against him. He hated the way your ass was pressing against his growing erection and the way it fit perfectly. He hated the way he couldnât stop thinking about the way your legs looked that night in that short skirt and high heel boots. He hated the way your eyes always narrowed when you talked to him, so tentative, so sexy.
He hated the way you always looked so fucking hot. He hated the way you turned him on, because you shouldnât.
He shouldnât feel about that way about you. He shouldnât want to kiss you every time you talked. He shouldnât want to sink his fingers in your hair and guide you to his mouth. He shouldnât be thinking about pulling your hair and kissing your neck. He shouldnât be thinking about the way his hands would feel touching your skin, your legs, your waist. He shouldnât be thinking about what color of panties you were wearing or if you even were wearing any.
He shouldnât be thinking the way he would push your legs open, the way he would put your panties aside after making a mess of them. He shouldnât be thinking about the way you taste or the way you would feel around his fingers and around his cock, he shouldnât fantasize about making you kneel and take his cock in your mouth. He shouldnât be thinking about any of that. And he sure as hell shouldnât be thinking how lucky was his best friend for having you that way every. fucking. day.
But he did.
And he was doing it right now.
Because he was drunk. Because you were pushing your back into his chest. Because he was touching your waist, because your ass was against his crotch pushing it so deliciously. Because he could smell your perfume, because he could see the skin in your neck untouched, unmarked. Because he could feel your breathing. And because he wanted to fuck you.
He wanted to fuck you so fucking bad.
âDo you think they left?â you whispered before looking over your shoulder again. Your voice dropped an octave, almost raspy. âJimin?â
And he lost it.
His breath hitched. His right arm wrapped around your waist to hold you in place. His other hand fell flat into the door, the one that wouldnât open, to hold himself in place. He trusted his hips against yours from behind, holding you steady in place. He heard you gasped.
âWhat are you doing?â you questioned.
Jimin couldnât really figure out what you were feeling. If you were upset, glad or anything. But, God, he didnât want to stop.
âIâm sorry,â it was the first thing he said. His forehead falling on your shoulder. âI-Iâm sorry, Iâm sorryââ
He didnât know what to say, his hips were pushing against you. His hard clothed cock feeling so good against your ass, against that tiny skirt you were wearing. He was slow, he wanted you to stopped him, maybe even screamed at him for being a pervert or a damn evil friend. But his head was too dizzy and cloudy. He couldnât think straight. His ears ringing louder.
He just loved the way you felt against him. The way his hard cock was too sensitive against his jeans, the way your back arched slightly at the movement he was doing. The way it felt so good having you this close. He loved the way you were warm, he loved the way your body was the perfect height, the perfect form to mold into him. He loved the way you sighed and the way his arm felt around your waist. He loved how he was holding you in place. He loved the way he could smell you better now, the way your ass felt against him.
And he loved the way you couldnât do absolutely nothing but just take it.
Jimin started humping you from behind a little faster. God, he loved it. He loved it so so much.
He closed his eyes. You were perfect, you felt perfect. He didnât want to moan, he felt too sensitive. He swore he had never been that hard before. Maybe he was too drunk? Maybe you were just too much for him.
âJimin,â you called him. He didnât put much attention to it. Your voice sounded so far away even if you were so damn close now. He was sure you had been calling him for some time now. Your hands went behind your back and you pushed him in the tummy. âJimin, stop.â
His back hit the wall. You had pushed him with strength. Your voice wasnât really soft or nice anymore. He didnât know what was going through your mind and he did want to hear it but fuck it was so hard. so hard. The closet was too small and even if you had pushed him, you were still against him. He was still holding your waist, his other arm falling to his sides. But you were still so close. His harden was still between your ass cheeks.
âIâm sorryâŚâ
âI thought you didnât like me.â
Silence.
Jiminâs heart was beating fast. He didnât know what to say. He didnât know what to answer. Because minutes ago he was trying to convince himself he did so too. And he didnât know what you were thinking. Why were you asking him that? To continue? To stop and then slap him? To tell Hoseok latter?.
God, he had crossed a line. No, he has crossed the line.
WellâŚ
The good thing about it was that now he could just keep going right?. If he was going to screw it, then he would do it right.
âI did,â Jimin sighed, breathing hard. âI didnât. I just⌠I justâ I hate that I canât have you.â
There was another beat of silence.
His breathing was faster than usual, he could hear himself. He could hear you too. There was so much silence. He felt aware of everything and nothing. But he didnât actually put too much thought to it, not when you were still so close, not when he was still holding you like that.
âBut youâre trying to have me now,â you replied.
âI know,â he muttered. He closed his eyes, his head falling against your shoulder again. He started thrusting into you again, this time slower and softer. Like he didnât want to scare but couldnât stop either. âIâm sorry, Iâm sorry. If Hobi finds out⌠I know youâ I know you love him and I know HobiâŚâ
âLetâs not talk about him,â you cut him off.
There was a dead silence again.
And Jimin felt the tension. But this time the uncomfortable one. The one that was coming from you. The tension he had felt when you two walk into the house.
He opened his eyes, looking at himself growing even harder against your skirt. âWhat happened?â
âI said I donât want to talk about him,â you said, firmer this time.
And then you pushed your ass into him. You did it.
Jimin groaned, holding you in place between his arms, his fingers scratched your waist. Fucking hell. You were trying something. He immediately knew you and Hobi werenât in good terms right now. Not if you were doing that. He didnât know if it was revenge what you were looking for or a distraction. And, God forbid him, he was going to take anything you could give him.
But of course, he didnât want to play your game at all.
âWhat do you want then?â Jimin whispered in your ear, your head moved slightly to the side. His eyes found your exposed neck.
Shit.
Jimin brushed his lips against your skin, ready to kiss your neck. But you didnât let it happen so fast. You moved your head back, making him step back. You looked over your shoulder. Over that dim light on the ground he could see you slightly. Your eyes dark and your gaze so provocative. Your eyes narrowed at him, giving him that look. That look that was so fucking hot to him.
âDo you want me?â
Jimin cursed you in his head. In the closet, his finger grabbed your jaw to hold you in place before kissing you. Hard and messy.
He moaned in your mouth. Your lips were soft and plump. He didnât waste any time before sliding his tongue inside your mouth, tasting you. He wanted to remember everything about it, even if he was wasted, even if it felt like a dream, even if it was just one time. He wanted to engraved you into his mind, every taste, every inch of you, every sound. He was going to feel every part of you now or he was going to die right there.
He bit your lower lip, his left hand fingers sliding into your hair to push you into his mouth and give you slow pecks all over your mouth. His right hand started moving to your thighs.
Jimin hated how he couldnât take you outside to push you into the mattress and sink his face between your legs. He wanted to taste you so bad, he wanted you to come on his tongue, he wanted you to tell him and beg him to stop, crying of overstimulation. But he knew he couldnât right now. Not with all your friends in that house, not with your boyfriend looking for you both.
So if the only place he could have you right now was in that damn closet⌠Jimin was going to take it.
His fingers found your underwear quickly. He moved his feet between yours to push them apart, giving him more access to your core.
Holy shit; he thought. He was going to touch you.
He could feel his heart beating faster than possible. He could finally admit how much he wanted it. It felt like his soul was about to jump out of his body from excitement. The blood running through his veins was boiling. He swore he might have passed out. And he didnât know if it was the alcohol or what but he felt like reaching for the starts.
Jimin pulled apart from your face, his fingers left your hair and he wrapped his arm around your tummy to keep you in place so you wouldnât run away. Not that you seemed to want to anyway.
âDo I want you?â Jimin whispered in your mouth before pushing your jaw with his nose, making you move your head so he could start kissing behind your ear to your neck. âWho wouldnât want you?â
You huffed a laugh, humourless. Like if what he said made you remember something, someone.
Jimin let it slide for a second, because he knew you needed to be needier to answer. His fingers brushed your underwear, and he felt it. The wetness sticking to it. Shit, Holy shit. Jimin bit your neck, trying not to moan at the sensation, trying not to move his fingers to his mouth and look so desperate. You made a small noise at the action and he felt like coming in his pants.
âFuck. Really?â Jimin licked your skin softly. His arms pushed you against him harder. He could feel his tip leaking pre cum already. âAre you actually this wet for me just humping you?â
âShut up,â you muttered. âDonât be cocky, you were acting like a bitch in heat.â
Jimin chuckled. His finger moved your underwear to the side before he started touching you correctly. Two fingers moved in circles overs your cunt, the wetness spreading quickly over it. You were warm, you were so warm. He couldnât wait to fuck you dumb. He couldnât wait to make you cry.
âDo you like this?â Jimin whispered in your ear.
His fingers pressed against you, right over your puffy clit, the small move more than enough to make you moan for the first time. âYes.â
Jimin inhaled it. That sound. That tiny sound escaping from your lips. He couldnât wait for you to make more, to moan his name. Fuck. He wanted it so bad. He wanted you to scream his name, to moan louder for him. He knew you shouldnât, he knew you two shouldnât be making noisesâ Actually, you two shouldnât even be doing this. You were dating his fucking best friend.
That didnât stop him from shoving his middle finger inside you.
You sighed so sweetly he wanted to kiss you. He wanted to devour you, engrave you in his mind forever. He didnât give a fuck anymore to be caught. For all he care, Hobi could open that damn door and Jimin would hold you in place and make him watch how he was touching you⌠because there must be something going on between you and Hobi if you were letting another man touch you like this. If you were letting him touch you like that.
Jimin could feel your warm, your gummy walls squeezing his finger like it was big enough to occupied that much space. He couldnât wait to feel you around his cock. You were fucking burning, and he was desperate to light himself on fire.
He inserted his index finger, fucking you slowly while his thumb brushed your puffy clit. Your head fell back into his shoulder and he grinned. He had you. You were loosing yourself in the pleasure.
âDoes he touch you like this?,â he whispered in your ear, biting your earlobe slightly.
âHum?â You blinked, unaware of his words for a second.
âDoes he make you feel good?â
You pulled your head away from his shoulder, your eyebrows frowning. Jimin started rubbing your clit a little faster. âI donâtâ donât talk about him.â
âWhy?â
âJust donât.â
Jimin shoved his finger into you faster, harder. You moaned a little louder than you should. He felt his cock twitch in his pants. You squirmed. Your body was so responsive, so sensitive. He loved it. He couldnât wait too much longer. His hand around your waist rubbed your tummy.
âTell me,â he murmured.
âWhat?â you legs twitched.
âTell me what happened with him,â he insisted.
âJimin, I swearââ
He pinched your clit and you whined, immediately slapping your palm against your mouth and your other hand grabbing his wrist. Your eyes sparkled with tears at the new sensation. Your clit pulsating hard, deliciously painful. He stopped, pushing his fingers out of your cunt. You whined again, this time complaining.
âDo you wanna come?â you nodded immediately, he rolled his hips into your ass. âThen tell me.â
âJimin,â you whimpered.
Jimin exhaled, throwing his head back at the sound you had made, the way you said his name, so sweetly, so eager. You probably wanted him as much as he wanted you and that made him so hard, so damn hard. The way your walls were squeezing his finger. The way your legs were shaking. The way your chest was moving up and down so fast, your breathing uneven. He couldnât wait to touch again between your legs but he needed to know. He wanted to know.
âTell me,â his voice was firmer, demanding.
âWe fought, he asked for a break.â
There was a second of silence. Jimin felt like God himself had gave him permission to continue. Like he had just decided fucking you was for the best. A very good action that needed to happen.
âAnd why would he do that?â he asked, his voice more softer than before. His fingers found his way into you again, he started pumping his fingers into you.
âUhm,â you hummed so good to feel him again.
He fucked his fingers into you slowly, taking his time to build your high. Almost gently so your mind would started losing slowly into the feeling. It was working perfectly. He circled his thumb against your clit again, this time slower and harder.
âWhy?â
âBecauseâŚâ
âBecause what?â He pinched your clit again, you wailed. Your nails sinking into the skin of his arm.
âBecause I was too needy.â
Jimin frowned slightly, a little confused. âWhat do you mean?â
âIâm clingy,â you said. âHobiâs too. I guess we got even more clingy in our honeymoon phase. Now heâs working more than ever and it seems my needs donât align with his schedule.â
Your voice went lower now, you werenât whining anymore. Jimin pushed his fingers out, moving them to rubbed your clit slowly, just to touch you while he heard you talk. Your cream was dripping to his knuckles. You were making a mess on his hand.
âSo he broke up with you because youâre too clingy?â
âHe asked for a break because I wanted to break up with him,â you admitted.
âWhat?.â
âWe had a fight. In the heat of it he told me I was too needy. I told him to fuck off and to find another bitch who wasnât. He apologized, I told him to fuck off again. He told me he had been stressed and whatever other excuses.â You hesitated for a second before adding: âI told him we should break up if he really thinks he canât handle how I am. He told me if we could just take some time. He wants time to think how to fix things and work on himself or whatever the hell that means.â
Jimin stopped moving for a second.
Jesus Christ.
He actually couldnât phantom the idea of Hobi asking you for a break. His friend was a clingy one, always touchy, always ready to do things. With you, always ready to touch you, always ready to talk about you. He seemed like the perfect clingy guy for you. Not really overwhelming, he knew his boundaries and all. And you really didnât really seemed too clingy, the normal amount of a girlfriend who loved her boyfriend. Sometimes a lot of pda but it was mostly you and Hobi being touchy and yourselves.
Now, Jimin couldnât really see it. You didnât seem the needy type. But maybe you werenât. Maybe you just wanted the right attention and Hobi couldnât give it to you. Maybe Hobi was going through a hard time or wasnât thinking straight. Maybe you were just being dramatic or maybe⌠maybe you were too needy. Maybe you were. Maybe you just asked for too much and needed too muchâŚ
But maybe you just needed someone who could keep up with you on that.
And Jimin could definitely play that part very well. He wouldnât get tired of it. He wouldnât let you think you were too needy. He would touch you every time you wanted, he would give you whatever you needed, anytime. He could do that for you. Is that why you were letting him touch you? Did you know he was the one? The one who could actually give you what you needed?.
âAnd you gave it to him?â Jimin chuckled, humourless. He pushed you away from him. âGod, youâre really needy.â
You frowned, mad. âDonâtâ shut up.â
Jimin smirked, for the first time you didnât have a quick remark.
Good.
He slide down his pants and underwear to the middle of his thighs, enough for his cock to jumped and hit his lower abs. His tip was shining with pre cum, dripping slightly over his skin, and it was red and swollen. It twitched, eager to be touched, eager to be played with. Jimin didnât waste a second, his fingers gripped around his cock before he started stroking it slow. His thighs tensed, he needed that. He needed a release so badly.
The thought of pushing himself between your legs made his cock twitched again.
âItâs okay, baby.â He whispered in your ear. âItâs not your fault.â
âItâs not like thatâŚâ
Jimin grabbed your skirt to pushed it up to your hips. He almost moaned at the sight of your ass inches from his cock. He grabbed your underwear to slide it down slightly. He watched your arousal drip into your thighs and slowly dragged the tip of his cock against your wet folds which caused you to yelp at the surprise.
But you didnât push him away. No, you kept your legs open for him.
He rolled his eyes, his head falling back for a second. You were so warm, so wet. So ready for him.
âHobi is an idiot,â Jimin continued, moving slowly into you, you were coating his cock with your juices. âHe should be giving you what you want anytime you want.â
âHeâs notââ
âHe is. Heâs such a fucking idiot.â Jimin kissed your neck, sucking slightly at one spot that made you close your eyes. âHe already lost youâŚâ
âNo, Iââ
âHe couldnât fuck you one day and youâre already opening your legs for anyone.â
âItâs not like that.â
âIt is,â he said. âBut thatâs okay, baby. I wouldnât that to you.â His cock hit your clit so sweetly it made you let out a breathy moan. âI wouldnât be a fucking idiot and let you go around like a whore in need.â
He could feel you dripping on his cock, your flesh covering his fat cock, not leaving an inch outside. His tip was hitting your puffy clit so delicious every time he pushed his hips into yours from behind. It was so, so good. You were perfect like this. Quiet and with your legs open for him.
âI would be with you every time you needed me. Every time you want someone to touch you, every time you need someone to make you feel good.â He grabbed the gem of your sweater, slowly sliding it up. âOpen your mouth.â
He made you bite the material, his hand found your tits, he squeezed them, slowly, taking his time to feel them in his hand. He moved his hips so his tip would tease your entrance.
âThatâs what you need. Right, baby?. Someone to keep you full everyday.â
âJiminââ
âThatâs what you need. Someone to keep you stuffed.â
His slammed his hips into yours.
Jimin groaned, dropping his head to your shoulder. He cursed, pushing himself deeper into you if it was possible. Your cunt throbbed, struggling to accommodate him as he sank all the way in. The stretch was uncomfortable, but at the same time so good you were on the verge of trembling.
You moaned, loud. He was sure someone had to heard you in that quiet house while everyone was playing hike and seek. You let the material of your sweater fall from your mouth, Jiminâs palm replaced it. His other hand wrapped your waist to keep you in place.
âFucking shit,â he cursed again. âYeah, thatâsâ thatâs what you need.â Jimin bottomed out with his entire body tensing up, not giving you much time to prepare before he snapped his hips back and slowly started fucking himself into you. You whined and he pressed his palm harder into your mouth, fingers griping your cheeks. âSh, sh. I donât want anything else in the world to hear you moan, baby. But unless you want your stupid boyfriend to find out, you better shut up.â
You nodded slightly, your eyes filling up with tears. He was stretching you so good. Jimin loved the way he was finally able to have you shutting up, breaking apart in his arms.
Fuck, he loved it.
He loved the way your hair was sticking into your sweaty skin. The way your lips felt against his palm, the way your hole was squeezing him so tight, the way you were so warm, so wet for him. So eager to have a dick, his dick, inside.
Holy shit, Hobi was a fucking idiot.
Jimin wanted to thank him so bad. Jimin was sure he would bow to Hobi a thousand times after this. Your pussy wasnât made for anyone else than him. Now he knew why he didnât like you, why he wasnât able to stand you the last couple months⌠because you werenât with him. Because you werenât his. Because he didnât have you stuffed like this.
Stuffed of him, Jimin was sure you felt so fucking stuffed, your puffy lips were dragging along his length with every push and pull, no room left in your guts every time he forced himself inside you. But thatâs what you were meant to. You were meant to be stuffed of him. You were meant to take him and take it. Take anything he gave you.
âExactly what you need, baby. Hobi doesnât know what to do with this hungry and needy cunt of yours.â Jimin slammed his hips harder into you, your head felt back into his shoulder. âH-he doesnât know what to do with you, so fucking needy. This is exactly what you needâ Ngh, shit.â He bit your shoulder, teeth marking your skin. âYou need to be fucked good. You needâ You need to be stuffed like this, full.â
His words were coming out hot and breathy, bumping against each other on his suddenly clumsy tongue. He grunted, pounding into you harder. His balls were tightening, so ready to release all down your tight hole, but he needed to hold on just a little longer. Just until you creamed all over him first.
âThatâs it. Youâre doing so good.â Jimin sucked the skin in your neck, ready to leave a mark. âHe shouldâve been marking you all up, making sure everyone knows who gets to have you like this.â You clenched around him. Jimin stuttered, his lips parting open in pleasure at the tightness. âFuck, yes. You like that?â he hummed. âDonât worry, Iâll do it. Iâll make sure everyone knows now who is fulfilling your needs. Not that fucking loser who doesnât know how to satisfy you, fucking idiot doesnât know how to keep you pretty and good.â
He felt you tensed around him, unable to deny the rush his words sent through you, making your pussy flutter around his cock in excitement.
âShit, baby.â He groaned, his fingers found your clit again, circling it faster. Your legs twitched. âYeah, Iâm gonna fill you up, okay?.â He whispered in your ear. You tensed, shoulder tightened. You tried to push him away but he didnât let you. âI know you want it. You need it. Needâ Ah, you need someone to fill you up. Y-you need someone to keep you like this, dripping in cum so you donât go open your legs for anyone else.â
Your right hand slipped behind you, fingers sinking into his hair. Your back arched slightly, ass pressing against his thighs. Jimin felt on cloud nine. He was sure that after today, nothing else would come close to the amazing feeling of fucking you like that.
âJimin,â you groaned. His hand on your mouth moved to your jaw, forcing you to move your head so he could give you a quick hard peck before putting his hand flat against the door to steady you both. âDonâtââ
âShh shh,â he brushed his lips against yours. âDonât make a noise. Donât want your boyfriend to hear yaâ. Right?.â
Slick was drooling down your thighs, making every thrust a wet squish of flesh on flesh. The small closet smelled like sex, like sweat and sex. Your sex. Jimin weakness to inhaled every part like a drug. He wanted to devour you. His mind was running wild. He was engraving all in his mind. Your sounds, your skin, your taste. Shit, it wasnât enough. He needed more. He wanted you more. He needed you closer even if it wasnât possible. He wanted you to be in very part of his skin.
Jimin groaned, fucking you faster, meaner, punishing you with all the strength he had. You'd be bruised tomorrow, but the way you chanted his name clouded his mind, the way you were moaning and the way you weâre squeezing him so hard made his cock throb inside you.
âGonna come inside you. Youâre gonna go home with him but my cum will be dripping from your cunt.â His fingers rubbed your clit furiously. âGonna show him youâre fucking mine now. Gonna make you go home with my cum inside you.â
You clenched around him again. Jimin hissed, satisfaction washing over him when your back arched more, words spilling out of your pretty mouth brokenly. He didnât catch it but he loved the sound. He didnât care anymore. Consequences be dammed. Hobi could walked inside right now and Jimin would make you come around his cock and fill you up with his. He didnât give a fuck.
He actually wished he did.
Hoseok was his best fiend. He was his brother.
And still part of him wished he would open that damn closet to find you being fucked by him. To show him how he was supposed to be spending his time, having you wrapped around his cock, not letting you think of any other man that wasnât him. Keeping you stuffed and sore. Keeping you safe, not needy. But Hobi didnât know. He didnât know how to do the job. And Jimin couldnât blame him, maybe he just couldnât keep up with you. Maybe you just needed someone better, someone who was able to keep your needs fulfilled.
Jimin could. He definitely could. He would never get tired of it. Of your cunt squeezing him like that, of your smell filling up the air, of your pouty mouth, your teary eyes. Shit, he would never. He would never get tired of it.
âSqueezing me so good. This tight needy litte cunt, holy shitâ come around my cock, baby.â Jimin whispered in your ear. âWanna feel you come.â
You came hard and fast, the pleasure was blinding that you almost slumped down, knees almost dropping and thighs trembling. You pulled his hair with strength, making him hiss. Your cunt getting even tighter around his cock. He continue slamming into you, biting his lower lip and rolling his eyes. You cried out, sobbing at the intensity of it all, tears pricking at your lashes. Jimin followed after you. His fingers dug into your waist, your back tensing as he released rope after rope of cum right deep inside your. His breathy moans mingled with yours, quickly overshadowed by the filth words spilling out of his mouth he couldnât even understand.
His cock was twitching and making a mess as he fucked his cum deep into you. He made sure to engrave himself into your body the same way he was engraving every part of you in his brain. And you felt full, full of him.
Jimin felt in heaven. His vision blurry for a second. It felt like he was high, not drunk anymore but in fucking drugs.
It took you both a minute to come back from the high. You both were breathing hard, trying to stabilize. Your legs were still trembling a little, your hands gripping by the door closet to keep you somehow in place. Jimin had you around his arms, after you almost fell into the floor. His head against to the wall while he was trying to come back to reality.
He was still inside you. Your juices dripping down your tights and his cum from your greedy hole. His hips twitched into yours and you let out a breathy moan, squeezing him.
Fuck, he could go again.
âSorry, muscle twitched.â he whispered, his voice deeper than before, raspy, tired.
You only were able to nod weakly.
He pushed himself out of you, making you two moan again. You were both sticky and dirty. It was fucking disgusting but you both needed to get dressed and find the nearest bathroom to clean yourselves.
Jimin was quick to put his cock inside his pants before helping you put your underwear and skirt into place. He knew his cum was dripping into your panties and thighs, and in some twisted way that just made his chest fill with pride.
Your body pushed him slightly against the wall while you turned around to face him. Your back hit the right door and he looked at you. There was just a couple of inches apart from you two, your feet still tangles but your bodies were able to not touch for the first time. Jimin wanted to laugh about how you could actually avoid all the mess if you both just stood that far apart from each other since the start.
Or maybe not.
Maybe it was just meant to happen. He wanted it to happen anyway.
Your gaze found his. Jimin licked his lips looking at you. He wanted to eat you whole. You just looked so cute. Your hair was a mess, your lips swollen and your cheeks blush. You looked fucked. Well fucked. Like you were meant to be. By him. And you looked so fucked up, so teary eyes and so pouty. He could only feel prouder and more satisfied knowing that you had him dripping down your legs too. You were full of him. You didnât need to be needy anymore, he was there nowâŚ
âWe shouldââ
You started talking, but he didnât let you finish. Instead, he kissed you.
This time slower, like he wanted to engraved a sweet memory now. His mouth was softer against yours, his lips more plump than ever. As much as he wanted to kiss you dumb, he kissed you deep and slow. His mouth kissing and licking every corner of yours, tasting you, memorizing you.
He could still feel you all around him. In his fingers, in his mouth, in his tongue, in his arms, in his pants, in his cock. In every inch of his body. And he was hoping you were too.
His fingers found your waist again, but before he could press you harder against him, you pushed him to the wall again. Not hard nor mean, but softly, just to get him away from you and look at him.
âJimin, we shouldâve neverââ
âNo,â he cut you off. âWe did it. Itâs done.â he said firmly. âAnd next timeââ
âThere wonât be next time.â You shook your head.
Jimin smirked, slowly. It felt like a challenge that he wanted to take so bad.
He leaned in, closer to you. His hands moving to touch your face. âNext timeââ
Click.
The door of the closet opened very suddenly. A hard noise that made you and Jimin jumped apart to look at the person who opened it, both with a frightened look. You two got caught.
âFound you!⌠Oh.â
Shit.
why is this borderline yandere? anyway hi itâs the end of the week itâs late and iâm high and i wrote this. okay bye loveu
Summary: Jack Abbot was still wearing his wedding ring the night he kissed you at your apartment door. Widowed and still learning how to want something again, Jack turns the best date youâve had yet and one charged goodnight into something neither of you is ready to walk away fromâand for him, wanting you is one thing, but letting himself have you is another entirely.
Fancy Seeing You Here (S) @santossbaby
Summary: after you get into a scuffle at the club you work at, your coworker rushes you to the ER. There you're treated by Dr. Jack Abbot, who you had previously known as one of your anonymous regulars.
Is it so much to adore (A,F) @flowersforbucky
Summary: When you receive your first ever daisy award, you insist that you donât need to have a pining ceremony. youâre used to celebrating your accomplishments quietly, on your own. you have your whole life. but jack abbot is determined to change that.
Buddy Knows Best (A,F) @of-apollo
Summary: When an angry patient attacks you at work, you do everything in your power to hide how bad it is from Jack. Unfortunately for you, his dog, Buddy, knows best, and is quick to alert him to how bad things are as soon as he gets home.
Private Patient (F) @deliciousangelfestival
Summary : What if Jack Abbott ends up with a rich wife instead of being the provider?
Sometimes, You need a fresh start (A,F) @deathvalleyqueen
Don't Have To Tell Your Hot Ass A Thing, Oh Yeah You Just Get It
(S) @ceriseangels
Summary- The senior attending of the night shift offers a shoulder to cry on. How this led to you, pressed up against a shelf in the supply closet? You have no idea.
Things a Man Provides (S,F) @annsfics
Summary: After catching you on tinder at work, jack puts himself on a mission to get you off of the obnoxious app & into a meaningful relationship with him instead before it's too late. learning you've never so much as been on a date before & are doubtful about ever finding someone worthwhile, he expends every effort to win you over.
Old Man Charm (F) @fromsil
Summary: Having a big fat crush on your attending wasn't the best thing, but how could you not when he looked that good?
âSmile for the camera.â (S) @freshlydomest1cated
Summary: You get an idea after finding jack old camcorder
Cherry bomb (S) @buglass
Summary: Jack plays with the idea of opening himself back up sexually to other women for the first time since his wife passed.Â
A Jack Abbott Imagine by @yearsarewatchingyou
Summary: Boyfriend!JackAbbot x blackfem!reader. He comes home after night shift to find you braiding your hair.Â
Dancing With Darkness @darkseidex
Summary: In which twenty years of marriage has made Jack Abbot certain of three things: darkness does not scare him when Jamila is near, his wife is the closest thing to salvation he has ever known, and touching her skincare without permission is a near-divorceable offense.
summary: Itâs not like you have any claim over Namjoon, youâre just friends who fuck time to timeâ so technically, watching him flirt shamelessly on stage shouldnât make your blood boil. His teasing comments about other girls shouldnât leave a bitter taste in your mouth. You shouldnât feel a lot of things about him⌠but maybe you just need to fuck those ideas and comments right out of his mind.
warning!â purely smut, literally zero plot . this story contains: unprotected sex, oral sex (m!&f! receiving), cowgirl, creampie. sheâs a pro rider. switch namjoon!. â reader lowkey toxic, namjoon is down bad.
authorâs note: well happy early birthday to me! broke the little hiatus to post this. i wrote this thirty minutes ago, not edited at all. okay bye!! see u next year!!
Jealousy looked ridiculous on other people.
You had always thought that.
Possessive girlfriends checking phones, girls crying in club bathrooms because some mediocre man looked at another woman for too long, couples fighting over things that ultimately meant nothing. You used to watch things like that happen with mild embarrassment, wondering how anyone could let themselves become so consumed by another person that a simple interaction could ruin their entire mood.
And yet there you were.
Standing backstage with a makeup sponge in your hand, trying not to feel irrationally irritated over a joke Namjoon had made less than ten minutes ago. Not even a real joke, barely a conversation.
One of the members had mentioned the sign in the crowdâ a clever one with double meaning âand the whole thing had immediately spiraled into teasing because Namjoonâs reaction had apparently already gone viral online before the concert was even over. Someone joked about bringing NDAs back. Namjoon laughed. The conversation moved on.
That shouldâve been the end of it. Instead, the thought had been sitting beneath your skin ever since, hot and ugly and impossible to ignore.
Not sadness. God, no. You werenât sad. If anything, you were annoyed⌠annoyed that random women thought they could get his attention so easily. Annoyed that he even entertained it for a second. Annoyed because some stupid, deeply narcissistic part of you genuinely believed no one shouldâve been able to hold his attention the way you did.
Which was insane considering Namjoon wasnât yours, never had been.
You two had never even discussed whatever this thing between you actually was. Months ago, one drunken night had turned into another, then another after that, until eventually sleeping together became as natural as breathing. Neither of you asked for more. Neither of you pulled away either. It settled into something dangerously comfortable.
You worked around him constantly, which meant there were too many late nights, too many lingering touches, too many moments where heâd look at you like he knew something about you nobody else did. Somewhere along the way, your body started reacting to him before your brain could catch up. The sound of his laugh from another room. His rings tapping against tables. The lazy way he spread his legs whenever he sat down like he owned whatever space he occupied.
You hated how aware you were of him at all times.
More embarrassing still, Namjoon seemed just as aware of you.
By the time the concert finally ended and the staff cleared out for the ending ment pictures, your irritation had settled into something more serious and meaner which felt almost pathetic. You werenât some jealous girl in love with a guy she couldnât have. If anything, Namjoon should be worried about you getting bored of him first.
That thought settled you instantly.
Yes, that sounded better .
You kept yourself busy reorganizing your makeup products while everyone rushed around backstage. The noise slowly died down as people moved elsewhere, voices fading into distant echoes beyond the hallway.
Then the dressing room door opened again.
Namjoon walked in still glowing faintly with post-concert adrenaline, slightly wet hair pushed away from his forehead, his black Arirang shirt making him look softer than he meant to. He shut the door behind him with his foot and exhaled heavily.
âThereâs my favorite employee,â he said tiredly.
You snorted softly without looking up. âYou say that to every person that wipes your face for a living?â
âOnly the mean ones.â
You heard him drop into the sofa in front of the vanity mirror with a groan. The familiar sound of rings clinking against the armrest followed immediately after.
For a second, neither of you said anything. It wasnât awkward, you and Namjoon had passed awkward months ago. Now everything between you felt strangely domestic in the worst possible way, like youâd known each other too long, like your bodies had memorized each other before either of you realized it was happening.
You walked toward him with a bottle of micellar water and cotton pads, stopping between his spread knees.
His eyes flicked up to yours immediately. There was always that moment. That split second where his attention sharpened completely when you got close enough to touch him. You pretended not to notice it even though secretly it thrilled you every single time.
âHold still,â you murmured, pressing the cotton pad against his cheek, harder than intended.
âOw.â
âDonât be dramatic.â
âYouâre violent tonight.â
âYouâre stupid tonight.â
Namjoon watched you for a second through the mirror while you grabbed another cotton pad, lazy but attentive in that way he always was with you. Like even relaxed, part of him is still focused entirely on you.
âYou in a bad mood?â he asked.
âNo.â
âThat was quick.â
âBecause it was a stupid question.â
âMm.â
You move to remove the makeup around his eyes, tilting his chin slightly with your fingers. He let you, always let you.
âYou know,â he said after a second, âmost makeup artists are nicer to me.â
âThen go flirt with one of them too.â
The words left your mouth so naturally you barely register them. But Namjoon did. And you saw it immediately, that tiny shift in expression, not really surprise but interest.
Namjoon hissed quietly when you pressed the cotton pad against his cheek again, rough. âJesus. Did I do something to you?â
âYour makeup separated.â
âThat doesnât answer my question.â
You ignored him, dragging the pad slowly beneath his eye. Up close, you could see the exhaustion settling into his features now that the stage lights were gone. Smudged eyeliner, flushed skin, slightly swollen lips from dehydration.
Pretty. Disgustingly pretty.
You hated that your first instinct around him was always hunger.
âYou are staring again,â he said lazily.
âYou look rough.â
âWow.â
âItâs true.â
He laughed softly under his breath, head tilting back slightly while you wiped makeup from his jaw. His hands rested on his sides at first, relaxed, but eventually one drifted absentmindedly toward your thigh. Not grabbing but fingers tracing the back of your skin.
Like he needed some part of his body connected to yours at all times.
You shouldâve moved him away. Instead, you let him.
âYou were weird earlier,â he said after a moment.
âThere were seventy thousand people screaming your name. I think youâd recover from me being weird.â
âMhm.â His thumb brushed once against your leg. âStill weird though.â
You grabbed another cotton pad. âMaybe I was overwhelmed by your intense celebrity status.â
âThere she is.â
âWhat does that mean?â
âThat tone.â His mouth twitched slightly. âThe one you got when you were pretending not to be annoyed.â
You rolled your eyes automatically, but the truth was Namjoon noticed you too easily. It was irritating. Sometimes you genuinely thought he studied you the same way people studied languages.. or prey.
âIâm not.â
âIs it about me?.â
âHell, no.â
âSo it is.â
âYour ego has gone insane lately,â you muttered.
âMy ego?â
âYeah, not everything is about you. God, men get attention once and start acting stupid.â You rolled your eyes.
It took him a moment to understand your comment. And you realized it too late.
Namjoon let out a surprised laugh. âThatâs what this was about?â
You shrugged casually, focusing on removing the makeup near his neck. âWhat?.â
âThat girl with the sign?â
âI have no idea what youâre talking about.â
âOh my god,â he murmured.
âWhat?â
âYou are jealous.â
The word landed between you heavily, not because it was true but because he sounded so pleased realizing it.
You scoffed immediately. âPlease.â
âYou are.â His smile grew slowly, eyes dragging over your face like he was putting pieces together in real time. âHoly shit.â
âYes, Iâm so jealous of a girl holding cardboard,â you said sarcastically.
âNo?â His fingers tightened slightly against your thigh. âThen why had you been glaring at me for the last hour?â
âI always glared at you.â
âThatâs true.â
You hated that he said it fondly.
The room suddenly felt warmer than before.
Namjoon leaned back in the sofa, watching you openly now, completely entertained by himself. By you. By this entire situation. It made something ugly flare inside your chest again. Because the worst part was he genuinely didnât understand.
Namjoon flirted naturally. Breathed attention naturally. People orbited him constantly and he walked through it without thinking twice. But you knew him better than anyone else in this building did. You knew how different he got when he actually wanted something.
And lately, heâd wanted you constantly.
The late night texts. The unnecessary touching. The way his eyes searched for you first every time he walked into a room.
Sometimes you genuinely thought Namjoon would crawl inside your skin if you let him.
âYou are thinking too hard,â he said softly.
You blinked back into the moment. His gaze was steady on you now, a little curious, a little too perceptive, a little dangerous.
Without really thinking, you set the makeup wipe down onto the vanity and stepped closer until you were straddling him, legs on each side of his thighs.
Namjoonâs eyes darkened immediately.
âThere,â you murmured quietly. âThat look.â
âWhat look?â
âThe one where you think you figured me out.â Your fingers hooked beneath his jaw lightly, forcing his head back enough to keep him looking at you. âYou get so cocky.â
His breathing changed almost imperceptibly. âYou are the one on top of me now.â
âAnd you are the one letting me.â
Neither of you moved.
The tension sitting between you felt almost violent now. It wasnât really romantic or too soft, it was something greedier than that, like the two of you were constantly trying to consume each other without admitting it out loud.
Namjoonâs hands slid higher along your thighs slowly. âYou know what your problem is?â he asked quietly.
âWhat?â
âYou think you own me.â
You smiled slowly. âWouldnât you like that?.â
His eyes flicked down to your mouth instantly. That alone nearly drove you insane. There it was again, that overwhelming awareness he had of you, like no matter how many people screamed his name every night, he still looked at you like you were the only thing capable of actually holding his attention.
The thought stroked something deeply possessive inside you.
Good.
He should.
You leaned down until your mouths were barely apart, feeling his grip tighten instinctively against your thighs.
âTell me something honestly,â you murmured against his lips. âHave any of those girls ever made you look at them twice?â
Namjoon went still.
Then his eyes lifted slowly back to yours. âNo,â he said quietly.
The answer came too fast to be fake. Satisfaction curled warmly through your stomach. Your thumb dragged once across his lower lip before you finally smiled against his mouth.
âThought so.â
And then you kissed him. And Namjoon kissed you back instantly.
Of course he did.
One of his hands slid up your thigh hard enough to leave warmth behind while the other moved to your waist, pulling you closer until your hips pressed against him. The angle felt really intimate, close enough that you could feel him growing beneath you.
You kissed him harder, possessively, like you wanted to prove him seomthingâ something you didnât know what yet. Maybe you did.
His mouth opened against yours with a quiet sound that nearly made something snap inside your chest. You hated how reactive he was with you sometimes. Hated how quickly his composure disappeared the second you touched him a certain way.
No one else got this version of him. The thought alone made your stomach tighten pleasantly.
Your fingers slid into his hair, tugging just enough to force his head back slightly. Namjoon exhaled sharply against your mouth, grip tightening on your waist immediately.
âThere you are,â he murmured breathlessly, lips brushing yours again. âDidnât know what reaction would get of you tonight.â
You laughed softly against his mouth. âYou say that like this isnât your fault.â
âMy fault?â His eyes opened briefly, dark and lazy beneath half-smeared eyeliner. âYou were the one looking at me like you wanted to kill somebody.â
âMaybe I did.â
âMhm.â His thumb dragged slowly against your hip beneath your clothes. âViolent and jealous. I never got this combination out of you.â
You kissed him again before he could keep talking. Mostly because you hated how smug he sounded, and mostly because you loved it too.
The kiss turned rough quickly after that, all teeth and heat and too much wanting crammed into one small dressing room backstage. Somewhere in the back of your mind, you knew someone could walk in eventually, but the possibility only made your pulse spike harder.
Namjoonâs hands wandered greedily over your body like heâd been thinking about touching you all night. Maybe he had been. You knew him well enough by now to recognize the signsâ the slight loss of control, the way his breathing changed whenever he got too fixated on you.
Obsessive.
Thatâs what this thing between you two really was. Not love, not casual either, something ugly and tabu.
You pulled back just enough to look at him, fingers still tangled in his hair. His lips were swollen now, makeup almost completely ruined beneath your hands.
Pretty.
You liked him prettiest when he looked wrecked.
Namjoon watched you carefully from beneath heavy eyes, hands resting possessively on your thighs now like he expected you to stay exactly where you were.
âWhat?,â he muttered.
âYou look better like this.â
âLike what?â
âMessed up by me.â
A slow smile pulled at his mouth. âYouâre kind of sick, you know that?â
You leaned down again until your lips brushed the corner of his jaw. âYou like that about me too.â
His grip tightened instinctively.
God.
The worst part was how perfectly you fit together in moments like this. Like every ugly possessive instinct inside both of you found relief whenever the other gave in first.
You kissed down his jaw slowly, feeling the way his body reacted underneath you immediately. The sound he made was quieter this time, almost swallowed by the room itself. Satisfied warmth spread through your chest. Good. He should react to you like this.
Your hands slid down from his shoulders, over his chest, lower until your fingers hooked briefly against the waistband of his pants. The movement made Namjoonâs head tilt back against the sofa slightly, eyes fixed on you the entire time now. Not teasing anymore, focused, hungry.
âYouâre acting jealous.â
You smiled against his throat. âAnd what?.â
His hand slid up your back slowly. âYou really couldnât stand it?â
âThe idea of you entertaining random girls?â You pulled back just enough to look at him again, fingers toying lazily with the button of his pants. âPlease.â
Namjoon watched your hands carefully, then your face, like he was trying to figure out which one he wanted more.
âYouâre possessive,â he murmured.
You hummed lightly. âDonât you like it?.â
Something dark flickered across his expression at that, not discomfort but more like enjoyment. He liked you like that. Because Namjoon was exactly the same for you.
âI do,â he simply said. âI like everything you do.â
You couldnât stand him.
Your hand immediately unbuckle his pants, slowly putting them down. Your eyes still fixed on his face. Namjoonâs eyes were dark. He was losing it too.
âTouch yourself for me,â you whispered to him.
Namjoon could come from your voice only.
You kissed his neck slowly, moving away until you were finally kneeling between his legs. You looked up as he started pumping himself over his clothes, getting harder at the sight of you. He groaned breathily, eyes getting lazier and hand moving a little harder. You could see the wet spot just right where his linen tip was, hitting his underwear so softly it made it look delicious.
You moved your hands to his thighs, slowly creasing them until you reached to his underwear. He threw his head back when your fingers touched his clothed cock, teasing him slightly with the tip of your fingers, rubbing them up and down to feel it in your hand. He tried not to moan when your hand finally wrapped around his underwear, you pulled it down. Namjoon looked delicious. His cocked jumped out hitting his long shirt. His cock was big, veiny and looked so pretty. You couldnât wait to put it in your mouth, missing it after days of not touching each other.
Your hand moved the base of his cock, squeezing it slightly. His veins bulged under the skin, thick and ridged, pulsing when you gave another tentative squeeze. One fat vein snaked right along the underside, throbbing harder every time your thumb brushed over it.
âShitâ that feels good.â his hips jerked into your hand involuntarily, and he threw his head back, breathing ragged. âS-sorry. Youâre doing sâgood.â
He was hard as a rock and his tip was shinny with pre cum and red, begging to be taken care of.
You stuck out your tongue, slowly licking from the base to the head of his cock. His back arched slightly, head thrown back as he gripped the sofa. âLook at me,â you demanded. And he did. âI want you to look at me while I make you feel good.â Your lips kissed his mushroom tip. âI want you to remember who makes you feel this good.â
He was going to cum so fast.
Your lips wrapped around his tip before sucking it in. Namjoon tried not to throw back his head back to the sofa, mind getting dizzy. You started sucking his cock so slow and hard that he felt like it was the first time he was receiving a blowjob. You could see the satisfaction in his eyes, in a way he liked you like that, possessive, sick to prove a point.
Namjoon was losing his mind. Mouth opened, his fingers sinking into your hair to push you closer to his cock, trying to take some control over the situation. His cock popped past your lips with a wet sound, thick and hot on your tongue. You tasted skin and salt and him, his veins dragging along the flat of your tongue as he pushed deeper, inch by inch disappearing into the wet heat of your mouth.
Your tongue circled his cock tightly before sucking again, he gritted his teeth hard at the sensation. Your right hand squeezed the beginning of his cock, moving it up and down as you sucked his tip with determination.
Namjoon felt so close.
No. Wait.
There wasnât too many things that bothered Namjoonâs mind. Lately, the list had reduced to just two. The first one was you, you and the fact that he couldnât stop thinking about whatever was going on between you twoâ the second one he clearly couldnât remember right now.
Namjoon knew he was fucked. The moment you got drunk one night months ago and you finally let him touch you the way he had dreamed for months. It was game over for him. But he knew there was something between you two that couldnât be tamed in the moment. There was a missing commitment that he knew you two werenât able to get in that time. Still, it bothered him that maybe you could be seeing other people.
He could too, but he didnât want to.
He only wanted you. He only wanted to make you feel good. He only wanted to touch you. He only wanted to talk to you.
Only you.
There was no one else in his mind except you. And in that moment, specially in that moment, there was absolutely no other thought that making you feel good, making you feel like you actually belonged to someone, him. He liked you like that, crazy in your feeling, not knowing why you were acting like that. So possessive over someone you didnât know you wanted.
Namjoon was a patient man. He could wait for you to find out.
But he wasnât so patient about other things.
âUmmâ wait, wait.â He pulled you from your hair. Looking at you kneeling in front of him. Mouth swollen, lips red, a line of saliva connecting you to his hard cock. âIâll cum inside youâ I wanna make you feel good first.â
âButââ
âStand up,â he demanded you. âI said I wanna make you feel good first.â
Namjoon didnât give you too much time to think, pulling you from your arms and pushing you to the counter in front of the mirror. He took a seat on the chair. His hands moved your skirt to your hips and he quickly made you sit in the cold wood, opening your legs to see what he most desired. He put himself between your legs, panties already soaked. Even as your chest rose and fell, you held yourself up, letting him put your feet on the edge of the desk and spread your legs apart completely.
His rough palm caressed your thighs before he started biting them, plump lips marking your skin.
âJoonââ
âYes. Now moan my name, baby. Gonna touch what is mine.â He said, eyes dark as he looked at your panties and your cute wet mound sticking to the material. His thumb stroking your inner thigh. âAlready soaked, youâre always this ready for me, huh.â
âYes, always ready for you.â You nodded, already fucked up by his touch.
âGood. Now you know who owns you.â
He easily hooked a finger and slid your panties to the side, leaning down, tongue sticking out as he licked a wet strip up your sweet cunt.
âF-fuck!ââ
And before you could even properly moan he was wrapping his arms around your thighs, shoving his face even deeper making you jolt and whimper loudly.
He wasnât soft and didnât go slow. Namjoon was hungry. Intoxicated of you.
His hands went to the back of your thighs to hold you in place and he went straight to suck your clit. You threw your head back and moaned. His tongue flattened to moved it around your clit, trying to stimulate you more. He was going crazier than before, hungrier, hornier. His teeth trying to grabbed your clit and making you moan louder at the sensation.
His lips started kissing your pussy before licking your entrance with desperation, his tongue tried to reach your insides while his nose moved around your clit. He kept doing that for a couple of minutes. He couldnât see you anymore, only being able to hear you while he was making out with your cunt. He was making a mess with his face, trying to drink all your juices and making you feel good.
He went back to your clit, sucking with more vigor now, wanting more every time. Your fingers buried in his hair, slightly pulling off them before pressing his head harder to your core. Looking for more friction. He moaned at your desperation, looking to come undone. He could swear he was about to come untouched.
âMhmm, sâgoodâ Baby Iâm gonnaââ
He suddenly stopped, making you whine.
It took everything in him not to go back to finish his job. But he wanted you to come undone in his cock. He knew how he wanted to wrecked you.
Namjoon didnât even clean his mouth to kiss you, lips moving hungrily over yours before taking a seat back to the sofa. Legs spread wide, jeans down to his the middle of his thighs and cock looking red and hard pointing at the ceiling. He looked so good like that, waiting for you to take what was yours.
He patted his thighs. âCome on now. Take whatever you want, baby.â
In less than a second you were straddling him again, kissing him messily to prove him you were going to do exactly what he said do. You were going to take whatever you want, whatever that was yours.
âI want you.â
With your bottom lip trapped between your teeth, you bucked your hips up, eyes locked on the way his length gleamed with his pre-cum, drooling from his tip so yummy. It was all so lewd, and he wasnât even inside you yet. Your hips moved slightly upward. You grabbed his cock with one hand so you could line it up at your entrance. Your other hand pressed down hard on his abs, throwing your head back as you slowly lowered down to take him.
âI said take it. Take it like you mean it,â Namjoon didnât let you take it slow. He moved his hips upward with strength so you could take him the way he wanted you too. Hard and mean. âTake it like itâs yoursâ Uhm, y-yes, yes. Like thatâ uhmm.â
You whimpered when he filled you up. Feeling every vain, every inch of him inside you. His fat tip touching your favorite spot.
Slowly, you lifted your hips, then bring them back down again, trying to find a good pace. His jaw clenched a little and he pinched at your waist, and then his own hips bucked up against yours so you did the same thing again until you found a steady pace and before long, you were bouncing up and down on his cock.
You started to ride him. Moving slowly up and down at the beginning so you could get use to his length. It always felt like the first time you two fucked. It felt so good, stretching you completely. His big fat cock, you could feel every vein and twitch inside you. His warm, it felt so good wrapped around you
âItâs mine,â you said. Fucked up already. Too drunk of him, too honest. âYouâre m-mine.â
He looked at you, eyes already too gone. He looked mean, like a dragon. âThen do a better job. Ride me good.â He slapped your thighs
You whined at his mean words before starting to fuck him faster and moving your hips better.
The sounds were obscene. His cock plunging into your wetness with each bounce of your knees, the sofa moving dramatically against the floor. Your clit hitting the lower part of his stomach in such a right way. You could feel your juices dripping on him making an even bigger mess.
You didnât care. You didnât care if people were waiting for him or how much time it would take to clean off all the mess. You just cared about showing him he wouldnât find anyone better. No one would make him feel better than you, no one could do a better job than you.
âCome on, baby.â He slapped your ass. âGonna make me do all the hard work?â
âShutâ shut up.â
âLazy girl, making me do everything.â He wrapped his left arm around your waist and with his right fingers he began to rub your clit, with intention. You moaned into his mouth and he took the opportunity to insert his tongue into your mouth, licking every part of you. Tasting every inch of you. He was the one leading, as always.
âNo, noââ
âUhmm, you feel good.â He bit down your jaw until he reached for your neck, leaving bruises with his lips. âSâkay, lemme take care of you now, okay?.â
He started fucking you, moving his hips upward faster and meaner. His dirty fingers left your clit and grabbed your hair to kiss you again. You moaned in his mouth, his lips eating you with lust and hunger. His arm around your waist grabbed you in a possessive way, tighter, leaving bruises, pushing you down every time his hips went upward to slammed into yours. The sounds were almost pornographic, it felt too good, too much.
Namjoon kissed your mouth again before his fingers buried themselves in your hair and he pull it hard, making you throw your head back. He started kissing and biting your jaw and neck, leaving more marks on your skin.
You were his. Only his.
You moaned loud when he hit the right spot inside you, not caring if anyone outside could hear you. You hoped they will. That way theyâll know you were the one to get him see like that, you were the only one he get to touch and kiss like that.
He was being so good to you, hitting the right places, making you break apart. Your knees began to slip slightly, your thighs burning, no longer having almost any strength to keep going. You pulled his hair and started kissing his neck too, you wanted to leave marks too, even if you shouldnât. Even if you really shouldnât. He knew you shouldnât. It was wrong, it was dangerous â but fuck it, he loved it. He loved you possessive, obsessed for him.
It made him go insane the fact the you wanted to mark him as yours too.
He was. He was yours. He so badly wanted to be.
Namjoon moved his hand on your hair to grabbed your neck. His fingers pressing hard around the lower part of your neck, his cold rings against your sweaty skin. You opened your mouth to complain but his gripped hardened around you, becoming almost difficult to breathe correctly.
âSay itâ say it.â His lips ghosted yours but he didnât kiss you, just teasing you. âSay yaâ mine. Moan my nameâ shit, sâ goodâ moan my name and say youâre mine.â You whined and he smirked slightly before slamming his hips harder onto yours, fucking you faster, meaner. âSay it for me, baby. S-shit, youâre takinâ me sâgood â Say youâre mine, p-pleaseâŚâ
You squeezed him so good he was losing it. His mouth found yours again. He could feel your warm and wetness swallowing his cock. He feel every inch of you wrapped around him. It was so good. It was perfect. You were perfect.
You cried out. âIâm yours.â
Namjoon felt your walls squeezing him harder. He moaned in your neck, you were sucking him so hard it was too much. He rubbed your clit desperately, helping you find your release. It didnât take you too long to do so. Your high hit you like a truck, your nails scrapped his shoulder, your mouth parting to moan loudly. You closed your eyes, walls closing so hard and your juices coating his cock. Your vision went blurry, your breathing uneven. Your thighs burning like hell. You broke apart in his arms.
âIâm yours too.â
Namjoonâs cock twitched inside you with one last thrust. His eyes rolled back, his hands gripping your skin as he heard your whimper. That hit his final straw. His forehead hit your shoulder as he felt succumbing to the sweet release. He came undone, ropes and ropes of hot cum filling up your sloppy cunt and spurting down onto your thighs.
It felt so good. Having you in his arms, making a mess of you. You making a mess of him.
It took you both a couple of seconds to come back to reality. The high of that sensational orgasm still feeling in the air.
You moved slightly away just enough to be able to rest your forehead in his shoulder. Namjoon pushed you slightly closer, still inside you. His hand rubbing your back sweetly.
âYou know,â he said softly, voice a little rough and tired, âthis is a crazy reaction to a cardboard sign.â
You snorted, feeling insanely embarrassed.
But it didnât matter. It didnât matter anymore what label you and Namjoon had. You knew he was yours anyway.
you know exactly what inspired thisâŚ.. okay bye!! hiatus back on!!
âââ HANDLE ME WITH CARE ę¤â Ő When Yoongi stays quiet every time youâre together, never letting a sound or reaction slip, doubt slowly takes root in your mind, leaving you wondering if he even enjoys being with you at all. The insecurity builds until, the next time, you force yourself into something more performative, but Yoongi notices immediately, and what starts as confusion turns into an honest conversation neither of you expected. âśďš
𼣠min yoongi x f ! reader ďšâ established relationship ďšę miscommunication trope slight angst slight arguing faking an orgasm smut rough sex missionary hickeys grinding hair pulling riding doggystyle âďšminors do not interact
âš word count âśďš11.6k
The room is dim, lit only by the thin sliver of moonlight cutting through the half-drawn curtains. The air feels thick, heavy with the scent of sex and Yoongiâs cologne, something woodsy and cool that always clings to his skin. Your back is pressed into the mattress, sheets already twisted beneath you from how long heâs been moving above you.
Yoongi is buried deep inside you, hips rolling in that slow, deliberate rhythm he always uses when he wants to take his time. Every thrust is precise, angled just right to brush against that spot that usually makes your toes curl and your breath hitch. His hands grip your hips firmly, fingers digging into your skin with just enough pressure to ground you, but never enough to bruise. He knows your body so wellâ better than anyone ever has.
It feels good. Of course it feels good. It always does with him.
His cock stretches you perfectly, sliding in and out with a wet, obscene sound that fills the quiet bedroom. Each time he pushes forward, the head drags along your walls, sending sparks of pleasure radiating through your core. You can feel the slight tremor in his thighs where they press against the backs of yours, the way his abs tighten against your stomach with every controlled roll of his hips. Heâs sweating lightly, a faint sheen glistening on his collarbones and the sharp line of his jaw, but his face⌠his face stays almost serene.
Thatâs the part thatâs been haunting you lately.
Yoongi is quiet.
Painfully, unnervingly quiet.
While youâre trying to lose yourself in the feeling of himâ his thickness, the way he fills you so completely, the heat of his body pressed to yours, you keep getting pulled out of it by the silence. There are no desperate moans spilling from his lips, no broken curses, no rough growls of your name. Just the occasional low grunt when he sinks in particularly deep, or a barely-there groan that vibrates through his chest when his pace picks up for a few strokes. Even his breathing stays measured, controlled, like heâs meditating instead of fucking you senseless.
You bite your lip as another slow thrust drags a real spark of pleasure from you. For a moment, you let your eyes flutter shut and try to focus only on the sensation: the drag, the fullness, the way his pubic bone grinds lightly against your clit with every forward motion. Itâs good. So good. Your walls flutter around him involuntarily, and you feel yourself getting wetter, slick sounds growing louder between your bodies.
But then your mind drifts again.
Why doesnât he make noise? Does it not feel as intense for him as it does for you? Is he holding back because heâs not actually enjoying it that much? Or worse⌠is he bored?
The thoughts creep in like smoke, curling around the edges of your pleasure and slowly choking it out. Your orgasm, which had been steadily building, starts to slip away. The heat in your belly dulls, turning from a roaring fire into something distant and lukewarm. You clench around him on purpose, trying to chase the feeling back, but itâs already fading.
Yoongi doesnât falter. His rhythm stays steady, deep, unhurried strokes that should be driving you crazy. One of his hands slides up your side, palm rough and warm as it cups your breast, thumb brushing over your nipple in slow circles. It sends a shiver through you, but itâs not enough to pull you fully back into your body. Your mind is louder than the pleasure now.
You donât want him to know.
You donât want him to stop or pull away or ask whatâs wrong. So you do the only thing you can think of in the moment.
You start faking it.
A soft, breathy moan slips past your lipsâ higher and more theatrical than the ones that usually come naturally. You tilt your head back into the pillow, letting your mouth fall open as you force another moan out, longer this time, letting it tremble at the end like youâre right on the edge. Your hands slide up his back, nails digging in just a little harder than before, and you rock your hips up to meet his thrusts with more exaggerated movements, making sure your body moves like youâre lost in it.
âOh⌠fuck, Yoongi,â you whimper, voice pitched just a touch too sweet, too performative. You clench around him again, purposefully this time, and add a little gasp at the end for good measure. âFeels so goodâŚâ
Your heart is pounding for an entirely different reason now. The lie tastes bitter on your tongue, but you keep going, layering on more moans and whines, letting your breathing come faster and more ragged than it actually is. You arch your back dramatically, pushing your chest up toward him, and let your eyes squeeze shut as if youâre overwhelmed with pleasure.
Inside, the real pleasure has almost completely slipped away, replaced by a tight knot of anxiety in your stomach. But you keep the act going, hips rolling, moans spilling out one after another, all while Yoongi continues to fuck you in that same devastatingly silent, controlled way.
His skin is hot against yours. His cock still feels perfect inside you. But your mind wonât shut up, and now your body is performing instead of feeling.
You just hope he doesnât notice. You keep the act going, layering moan after moan as Yoongiâs pace stays steady and deep. Your voice sounds foreign to your own earsâ too breathy, too eager, too loud in the quiet room. You tighten around him deliberately with every thrust, rolling your hips up to meet him with exaggerated movements, letting your nails rake down his back a little harder than usual.
âYoongi⌠oh god, right there,â you gasp, forcing the words out like theyâre being torn from you. Your back arches off the bed in a dramatic curve, breasts pressing against his chest as you whimper and whine, building the performance higher and higher. The real pleasure has long since faded into the background, drowned out by the loud buzzing of insecurity in your head, but you push through, faking the climb with everything you have.
Inside, your stomach twists. You hate this. You hate lying to him like this, but the fear of him realizing how disconnected you feel is worse.
You feel his rhythm falter just slightlyâ only for a fraction of a second, before he drives in deeper, hips snapping forward one last time. A low, guttural grunt escapes his throat, the sound vibrating against your neck as he buries himself to the hilt. His cock pulses inside you, hot and thick, spilling deep as he cums with that single, restrained sound. His body tenses above you, muscles locking up, fingers digging harder into your hips for a moment before he slowly relaxes.
You fake your own release right after him, letting out a long, trembling moan that peaks sharply and then dissolves into shaky little whimpers. Your walls clench around him rhythmically, body shuddering beneath him as if youâre riding out wave after wave. You even let your thighs tremble and your breath hitch dramatically, clutching at his shoulders like you canât handle how good it feels.
When itâs over, Yoongi stays buried inside you for a few long seconds, breathing steady against your skin. Then he slowly pulls out, the wet slide of his cock leaving you feeling empty and strangely hollow. He presses a soft, almost absent kiss to your collarbone before rolling off you and sitting up on the edge of the bed.
The room feels colder without his weight pressing you down. You stay exactly where you are, flat on your back, staring up at the ceiling. The fan above spins lazily, casting faint shifting shadows across the white paint. Your chest rises and falls with breaths that are still too fast, but not from pleasure anymore. Cum slowly leaks out of you, warm and sticky against your inner thighs, a reminder of what just happened. Your body feels used in the best physical way and yet emotionally distant, like you watched the whole thing from somewhere outside yourself.
Yoongi stands, the mattress dipping and then rising as his weight leaves. You hear the rustle of fabric as he picks up his discarded boxers and sweatpants from the floor, the soft sound of him stepping into them. He doesnât say anything. He never really does after sex. The silence that felt intimate before now feels like a weight pressing on your chest.
He pads out of the bedroom barefoot, footsteps quiet on the hardwood floor, heading toward the kitchen. You remain motionless, eyes fixed on that spinning fan, the aftershocks of your faked orgasm leaving a sour taste in your mouth. The sheets beneath you are damp with sweat and slick, clinging uncomfortably to your skin. Your heart is still racing, but itâs anxiety now, not desire.
A few minutes later, you hear the faint clink of a glass and the sound of the faucet running. Yoongi returns, the soft glow from the hallway light outlining his silhouette as he steps back into the room. Heâs shirtless, sweatpants hanging low on his narrow hips, black hair slightly messy from your fingers earlier. In his hand is a glass of water, condensation already beading on the outside.
He sits on the edge of the bed beside you, the mattress dipping under his weight. The glass is cool as he gently presses it into your hand. âHere,â he murmurs, voice low and a little rough from disuse. His dark eyes search your face in the dim light. âDrink.â
You push yourself up onto your elbows, taking the glass with fingers that feel slightly shaky. The water is cold and refreshing as it slides down your throat, but it does nothing to ease the knot in your stomach. Yoongi watches you quietly, one hand resting on your bare thigh, thumb brushing absentmindedly over your skin.
When you lower the glass, he asks, voice tentative and softer than usual, âYou okay?â
You force a small smile, nodding quickly. âYeah⌠of course. It felt really good. You always fuck me so good, Yoongi.â
The lie slips out easily enough, but your voice sounds a little too bright, a little too rehearsed. For a split second, you swear something flickers across his faceâ those sharp eyes narrowing just a fraction, lips parting like he might say more. Your heart stutters. He knows. He has to know.
But he doesnât push.
Instead, Yoongi lets out a slow, quiet sigh, running his fingers through his damp black hair, pushing it back from his forehead. The motion makes the muscles in his arm flex subtly in the low light. He nods once, almost to himself, then swings his legs onto the bed and lies down beside you.
âCome here,â he says gently, reaching for you. You let him pull you against his chest, your head resting on his shoulder, one of his arms wrapping securely around your waist. His skin is still warm, heart beating steady and slow beneath your cheek. He smells like sex and sweat and that familiar cologne, and for a moment the closeness makes the ache in your chest ease just a little.
âI love you,â he whispers into the darkness, lips brushing the top of your head.
Your throat tightens. âI love you too.â
He reaches over with his free hand and clicks off the bedside lamp. The room plunges into complete darkness, broken only by the faint moonlight seeping through the curtains. Yoongiâs breathing gradually slows, becoming deep and even as sleep claims him. His body relaxes completely against yours, arm heavy and comforting around you.
But sleep doesnât come for you.
You lie there wide awake, eyes open in the dark, listening to the quiet rhythm of his breaths. The fan continues its lazy spin overhead. Every time you close your eyes, you replay the scene: your fake moans, the way you performed for him, the single low grunt he gave when he came. The insecurity gnaws at you, sharper now in the silence. You feel raw and exposed, even though heâs holding you so tenderly.
Hours seem to pass. The glass of water sits forgotten on the nightstand, condensation pooling beneath it. Your mind races in circlesâ wondering if he really bought the lie, if heâs truly satisfied, if something is wrong with the way you make him feel. Yoongi sleeps soundly beside you, completely unaware, while you stare at the ceiling again, the weight of your doubts pressing heavier with every passing minute.
The next afternoon, sunlight filters through the large cafĂŠ windows, casting warm golden patches across the wooden table. The scent of fresh coffee and sweet pastries hangs in the air, mingling with the low hum of conversations and the occasional hiss of the espresso machine. Youâre seated across from Wonyoung in a cozy corner booth, both of you cradling warm lattes in your hands. She looks effortlessly pretty as always, long hair cascading over one shoulder, a soft pink sweater making her glow in the natural light.
Youâve been stirring your drink absentmindedly for the past ten minutes, the spoon clinking softly against the ceramic mug. The conversation started light, but you finally let it spill, the thing thatâs been weighing on your chest since last night.
âSo⌠things with Yoongi have been good, really good,â you say, voice quieter than usual. âBut⌠during sex⌠heâs just so quiet. Like, almost completely silent. I mean, heâll give a little grunt here and there, or this low groan when he pushes in deeper, and thatâs basically it. Even when he cums, itâs just one low sound. Nothing more.â
You take a small sip of your latte, the warmth doing little to ease the knot in your stomach. âIt feels amazing physically, he always makes sure I cum, he knows exactly what heâs doing. But I keep getting stuck in my head about it. Last night⌠I actually started faking it. The moans, the way I moved, everything. I felt so stupid afterward, lying there while he held me and told me he loved me. I couldnât even sleep.â
Wonyoungâs eyes widen slightly, her perfectly shaped brows furrowing in concern. She sets her mug down and leans forward, elbows resting on the table. âOh, honey⌠that sounds really tough. Have you tried talking to him about it?â
You shake your head quickly, fingers tightening around the handle of your mug. âNo⌠Iâm scared. What if I donât like his answer? What if he tells me he doesnât find me sexy anymore, or that the spark is gone for him? What if heâs just going through the motions because he feels obligated? I donât think I could handle hearing that.â
Your voice cracks a little on the last part, and you look down at the foam art slowly dissolving in your coffee. The cafĂŠ suddenly feels too bright, too exposed. You can still feel the ghost of Yoongiâs quiet body against yours from last night, the way he fell asleep so easily while you stared at the ceiling for hours.
Wonyoung reaches across the table and gently squeezes your hand. âI get it. That fear is valid. But bottling it up is only going to make it worse. You two are so good together, communication is important, especially about something this intimate. Maybe thereâs a reason heâs quiet. Or maybe he doesnât even realize how much itâs affecting you.â
You nod slowly, chewing on your bottom lip. âYeah⌠maybe. Itâs just⌠Yoongi always been this quiet, from the very beginning. I didnât really think much of it at first because everything else felt so intense. But then you told me about you and your boyfriend, how vocal he gets, the way he moans your name, how he tells you how good you feel⌠I donât know, it made me realize how different it is with Yoongi. I started craving that too. I want to hear him. I want to know Iâm making him feel as crazy as he makes me feel.â
Wonyoung gives you a soft, understanding smile, tilting her head slightly. âI remember telling you those stories. And yeah, my boyfriend is loud in bedâ itâs hot, it makes me feel desired. But Yoongi⌠heâs always been a quiet guy overall, right? In everyday life too. He speaks when he has something important to say, but heâs not the type to fill the silence just to fill it. Maybe during sex heâs the same, maybe he just processes pleasure differently. Still⌠you should talk to him. Even if itâs scary. Tell him how it makes you feel without accusing him. Something like, âI love being with you, but Iâve been feeling a little insecure because youâre so quiet, and I want to know if youâre enjoying it as much as I am.ââ
You let out a long sigh, shoulders slumping as you trace the rim of your mug with your fingertip. âYouâre right⌠I know youâre right. Itâs just terrifying. What if talking about it makes things awkward? Or worse, what if he confirms my fears?â
She squeezes your hand again, her touch warm and reassuring. âAnd what if he doesnât? What if he opens up and you both end up even closer because of it? You wonât know until you try. You deserve to feel confident and wanted in every way.â
You manage a small, grateful smile, even though your chest still feels tight with uncertainty. âThank you for listening. I really needed this.â
The two of you finish your coffees slowly, the conversation drifting to lighter topicsâ work, a new drama you both started watching, Wonyoungâs latest shopping haul. But your mind keeps circling back to Yoongi, to the quiet of last night, to the conversation you know you probably need to have.
When itâs time to leave, you both stand and gather your things. Outside the cafĂŠ, the spring air is mild and fresh, carrying the faint scent of blooming flowers from the nearby park. You pull Wonyoung into a tight hug, breathing in her familiar perfume.
âThank you again,â you murmur against her shoulder. âFor the advice⌠and for not making me feel crazy.â
She hugs you back just as tightly, rubbing your back gently. âAnytime. Text me later if you need more pep talks, okay? Youâve got this. Just be honest with him.â
You nod as you pull away, offering her one last smile before turning to head home. The walk back feels longer than usual, your steps slow on the sidewalk as the weight of her words settles over you. The sun is warm on your skin, but inside youâre still tornâ part of you wanting to listen to her encouragement, the other part terrified of what Yoongiâs answer might be. By the time you reach your apartment door, your heart is already beating a little faster at the thought of seeing him again tonight.
-
That evening, you chicken out completely.
The conversation with Wonyoung plays on repeat in your head the whole walk home, but the moment you step through the apartment door and see Yoongi already thereâ barefoot in the kitchen, stirring something that smells like garlic and soy sauce, the words die in your throat. He glances up at you with that soft, small smile he reserves mostly for you, black hair falling slightly into his eyes, and your resolve crumbles. Not tonight. Youâll talk to him tomorrow. Or the day after. Just⌠not right now.
Instead, you both settle into a quiet movie night.
The living room is dimly lit by the glow of the TV screen and a single lamp in the corner. The couch is piled with soft blankets and pillows, the faint scent of buttered popcorn still lingering in the air from the bowl now sitting empty on the coffee table. Yoongi sits in his usual spot, legs stretched out, one arm draped casually around your shoulders as you curl into his side. Your head rests against his chest, the steady thump of his heartbeat beneath your ear, his body warm and solid through the thin black t-shirt heâs wearing.
For a few blissful hours, the sex issue fades into the background.
You laugh together at the ridiculous comedy on screen, his low chuckle vibrating through his chest whenever something genuinely funny happens. His fingers trace lazy patterns on your arm, occasionally brushing through your hair in that absentminded way that always makes you feel safe. You steal glances at his profile, the sharp line of his jaw, the way his lashes cast faint shadows on his cheeks when he blinks, the subtle curve of his lips when he smirks at a joke. For once, your mind is quiet. No overthinking. No insecurity. Just the simple comfort of being wrapped up in your boyfriend, the two of you tangled together like you belong there.
As the movie credits start to roll and the second film begins autoplaying, the comfortable haze starts to shift. The room feels cozier now, warmer. The blanket draped over both of you traps heat between your bodies. You become hyper-aware of how close you are, his thigh pressed against yours, the faint scent of his cologne mixed with the fabric softener on his shirt. Looking up at his face in the flickering light of the TV, something stirs in your chest. His expression is relaxed, peaceful, those dark eyes reflecting the screen. A sudden, sharp wave of want washes over you. You want him. Not just the quiet, controlled version from last night, but something more. You want to climb into his lap, feel his hands on you, lose yourself in him againâ but this time without the doubts.
Maybe you were just being paranoid, you tell yourself. Maybe Wonyoung was right and heâs simply a quiet person in every aspect of life. Maybe last night was a fluke, and if you initiate tonight, itâll be different. Better. You could make him feel good enough that he finally lets go.
The decision settles in your mind, warm and impulsive.
You shift slightly, turning your body toward him. Your lips find the side of his neck firstâ soft, slow kisses pressed just below his ear, where you know heâs sensitive. His skin is warm, slightly salty from the long day, and you breathe him in as you trail kisses down the column of his throat. One hand slides up under his shirt, palm gliding over the smooth planes of his chest, feeling the faint ridges of muscle and the steady beat of his heart beneath your fingertips.
Yoongiâs breath catches for just a second. He turns his head toward you, and a small smile tugs at his lips.
But the smile doesnât quite reach his eyes. Thereâs something off about it, too tight at the corners, a flicker of something unreadable in his gaze before it smooths out. Itâs odd, a tiny detail that nags at the back of your mind, but you push it aside. Youâre already too far gone in the moment, desire overriding caution.
Encouraged, you let your hand drift lower, sliding down his stomach until your palm presses over the front of his sweatpants. Heâs half-hard already, and you rub him slowly through the fabric, feeling him twitch and thicken under your touch. A few firm strokes, your fingers tracing the outline of him as you continue kissing and gently sucking at his neck, leaving faint marks that will probably fade by morning.
For a moment, it feels promising. His body responds, hips shifting ever so slightly under your hand.
Then he moves.
Yoongi lets out a quiet sigh, long and heavy, the kind that carries weight. He sits up straighter, gently but firmly catching your wrist to stop your movements. His other hand runs through his black hair, pushing it back from his forehead, then drags down over his face, rubbing at his eyes and the bridge of his nose like heâs suddenly exhausted or stressed. The TV light flickers across his features, highlighting the tension in his jaw.
You pull back, staring up at him in confusion, your hand still hovering where he stopped it. The warmth that had been building in your belly cools rapidly. âYoongiâŚ?â Your voice comes out softer than you intended, laced with uncertainty.
He doesnât look at you right away. His gaze is fixed somewhere toward the TV, shoulders slightly slumped. The comfortable cocoon of the movie night suddenly feels fragile, like it could crack at any second. The blanket slips down to your laps as the distance between you grows, even though youâre still sitting right next to each other. Your heart starts to pick up speed, that familiar knot of insecurity creeping back in, stronger than before.
The room is quiet except for the low dialogue still playing from the movie, but the easy laughter from earlier is long gone. The silence stretches between you like a taut string, ready to snap.
Yoongi sits there on the couch, still slightly leaned forward, one hand lingering over his face as if heâs trying to wipe away whatever thought just crossed his mind. The TV continues playing in the background, the low murmur of dialogue and soft soundtrack now feeling intrusive instead of comforting. The air in the living room suddenly feels cooler, heavier. Your heart hammers in your chest, the earlier warmth of desire replaced by a sharp, anxious flutter.
You canât take the quiet anymore. âDo you⌠not think Iâm sexy?â The question slips out in the middle of the silence, small and fragile, barely louder than a whisper. Your voice cracks on the last word, and you hate how vulnerable it sounds.
Yoongiâs head snaps toward you instantly. His dark eyes widen, the relaxed expression from the movie night completely gone. For a second he just stares at you, like the words donât compute. âWhat the hell?â he says, voice low but sharp with disbelief. âWhy would you even think that?â
The intensity in his gaze makes your stomach twist. You look down at your hands, fingers twisting together in your lap, suddenly unable to meet his eyes. The confession starts pouring out, slow and halting at first, then gaining momentum as the insecurities youâve been carrying finally break free.
âBecause youâre so quiet during sex, Yoongi,â you say, voice trembling slightly. âYou barely make any sounds at all. Just⌠a grunt sometimes, or that one low groan when you cum. Thatâs it. Nothing else. We never really switch positions much either, you stay on top, controlled, like youâre holding back the whole time. It always feels good physically. Really good. You know exactly what to do and I cum almost every time⌠but lately I keep getting stuck in my head. I start wondering if thereâs something wrong with me. If Iâm not doing enough, or if I donât turn you on the way I used to. If maybe youâre just⌠going through the motions.â
Tears prick at the corners of your eyes, but you blink them back, swallowing hard. The words hang in the air, raw and exposed. You feel stripped bare, sitting there in the dim glow of the TV, the cozy movie night now feeling miles away.
Yoongi lets out a deep, heavy sigh. âFuckâŚâ he mumbles under his breath, the curse quiet but laced with frustration, not at you, but at the situation. He runs both hands through his hair, messing it up further, then drops them to his lap. For a moment he just sits there, shoulders tense. Then he shifts closer and sits fully beside you again, the couch dipping under his weight. His thigh presses against yours, warm and solid, but he doesnât reach for you yet. Heâs silent for another long second, eyes fixed on the floor in front of him, jaw tight. The pause feels endless, your pulse roaring in your ears.
Then he speaks, voice low and careful. âWas that why you faked it last night?â
Your breath catches. You turn to look at him, eyes wide with shock. âYou⌠you knew?â
Yoongi nods slowly, still not quite looking at you. His expression is unreadable, but thereâs a heaviness in it now. âYeah. I could tell.â He pauses, swallowing. âI know your body. I know the way you sound when itâs real, the little hitch in your breath, the way your thighs shake, how your voice gets all breathy and broken. That wasnât it. Not even close.â
He finally turns his head to face you fully, those sharp, dark eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that makes your chest tighten. âWhy did you do it?â
The question is gentle, but it still lands like a weight. You feel heat rush to your face, a mix of embarrassment and relief that he noticed, that he cared enough to pay attention. Your fingers fidget with the edge of the blanket as you answer, voice barely above a whisper at first.
âBecause I go into my head about it⌠about how silent you are when youâre fucking me. It makes me think Iâm not affecting you the way you affect me. That maybe it doesnât feel as good for you, or that youâre not really lost in it. So last night I just⌠performed. I faked the moans and the movements because I didnât want you to know I was doubting. I didnât want to ruin it.â
The confession leaves you feeling drained, exposed. The room is quieter now, the movie long forgotten in the background. You can hear the faint hum of the refrigerator from the kitchen, the soft ticking of the clock on the wall. Yoongiâs presence beside you is steady, but the air between you crackles with everything unsaid.
He doesnât interrupt. He just listens, eyes never leaving your face, that deep sigh from earlier still lingering in the way his shoulders remain slightly hunched. Your heart is still racing, cheeks warm with the vulnerability of having finally said it all out loud. You feel raw, like youâve peeled back a layer of yourself and handed it to him.
Yoongi doesnât speak right away.
Instead, he leans in slowly, one hand gently cupping the side of your face. His thumb brushes tenderly over your cheek, wiping away a stray tear you hadnât even realized had fallen. Then his lips meet yours in a slow, gentle kiss. Itâs soft at firstâ barely more than a press of warmth, then deepens just enough to feel reassuring. His mouth moves against yours with quiet care, tasting faintly of the popcorn from earlier and the familiar comfort of him. Thereâs no rush, no demand, just the steady reassurance of his lips and the way his fingers thread lightly into your hair.
When he finally pulls back, his forehead rests gently against yours, breath mingling warmly between you. His eyes are closed for a moment, silver lashes brushing his cheeks, before they open again, dark and earnest. âIâm so sorry, baby,â he whispers, voice low and rough with emotion. The apology settles over you like a warm blanket, sincere and heavy.
He stays close, forehead still pressed to yours, sharing the same air. âYouâre the sexiest fucking woman Iâve ever seen,â he continues, the words coming out quieter than usual, but no less intense. âIâve never once not been satisfied with you. Not even close. Every single time⌠you drive me crazy.â
Then he pulls back just enough to look at you properly. A faint blush creeps across his pale cheeks, coloring the tips of his ears pink. He glances away for a second, toward the darkened TV screen, as if the admission costs him something. His fingers twitch where they rest on your thigh, like heâs fighting the urge to hide.
âIâve been holding myself back,â he admits, voice dropping even lower, almost shy. âBecause⌠I get embarrassed. I donât know why exactly, but if I fully let go⌠if I let myself indulge in you the way I want to⌠I was scared you wouldnât like it. That youâd think it was too much. Too loud. Too intense. That it would change how you see me.â
The confession hangs between you, surprising in its honesty. Yoongi, usually so composed, so in control, looks almost vulnerable sitting there with that soft blush and averted gaze. It makes your chest tighten with affection and a rush of heat at the same time. You let out a low, soft laugh, the sound gentle and warm in the quiet room. Itâs not mocking; itâs full of fondness and relief. You reach up, gently turning his face back toward you with your fingertips on his jaw.
âYoongiâŚâ you murmur, smiling softly as you look into his eyes. âYou are the hottest, sexiest man Iâve ever been with. Seriously. Nothing about you letting go could ever be âtoo muchâ for me. I want it. I want to hear you. I want to feel how much I affect you. All of it.â
You take his hand in yours, fingers intertwining slowly. His palm is warm, slightly calloused from years of playing instruments and producing late into the night. You give it a gentle squeeze, thumb brushing over his knuckles.
âDo you want to try?â you ask softly, voice barely above a whisper, but full of quiet hope. âRight now?â
He looks at you for a long moment, eyes searching yours. The blush on his cheeks deepens just a fraction, but then he nodsâ slow, deliberate, decisive. âYeah,â he breathes. His voice has shifted, gaining a new edge of determination beneath the softness. âIâm going to show you just how much you affect me.â
The words send a shiver down your spine. Thereâs a promise in them, dark and heated, wrapped in that familiar low tone of his. The air between you thickens instantly, the earlier tension transforming into something electric and anticipatory. Yoongiâs hand tightens around yours, his thumb stroking once over your skin before he leans in again, closer this time, lips hovering just inches from yours.
The living room feels smaller, warmer, the forgotten movie long irrelevant. All that matters now is the way heâs looking at youâ like heâs finally allowing himself to unravel, just for you. He leans in and captures your lips again, but this kiss is different from the gentle one moments ago. It starts slow, almost reverent, his mouth moving against yours with deliberate care. Then it deepens. His hand slides to the back of your neck, fingers threading into your hair as he tilts his head and kisses you harder, tongue brushing against the seam of your lips, asking for entry.
You open for him instantly.
The kiss turns heavy, hungry. His tongue slides against yours, slow and thorough, tasting you like heâs trying to memorize every inch. A low, barely audible hum vibrates from his chest into your mouthâ the first real sound heâs let slip tonight that isnât guarded. His lips are soft but insistent, sucking gently on your lower lip before diving back in, the wet slide of tongue and shared breath making your head spin.
Your hands come up to his chest, fingers curling into the fabric of his black t-shirt as you kiss him back with everything youâve been holding in. The earlier insecurity melts away under the heat of his mouth, replaced by a growing ache low in your belly. He kisses like heâs pouring years of restraint into this one momentâ deep, consuming, and just a little desperate. Without breaking the kiss, Yoongi leans back against the couch cushions, pulling you with him. You follow eagerly, shifting until youâre sliding into his lap, knees settling on either side of his thighs. The position brings your bodies flush together, your chest pressed to his, the heat of him radiating through his thin shirt. His hands settle on your hips, gripping firmly as he tugs you closer, encouraging you to settle your weight fully on him.
You can already feel him hardening beneath you, the thick length of his cock pressing up against your core through the layers of fabric. It sends a spark of arousal through you, sharp and insistent.
Your fingers slide up into his black hair, threading through the soft strands. At first you just hold on, but as the kiss grows more heatedâ tongues tangling, breaths coming fasterâ you tighten your grip and pull. A low, broken groan escapes Yoongiâs throat. The sound is deep and raspy, vibrating against your lips. Itâs not the restrained grunt youâre used to, itâs raw, involuntary, and it shoots straight to your core. You tug again, a little harder this time, nails lightly scraping his scalp, and another groan follows, louder this time, his hips twitching up into you instinctively.
âFuckâŚâ he breathes against your mouth, the curse muffled but unmistakable. His voice is already rougher, lower, the composure cracking. He kisses you even more desperately now, one hand sliding up your back under your shirt, palm hot against your bare skin, while the other stays anchored on your hip, guiding you to rock slowly against the growing bulge in his sweatpants. The friction is delicious, sending little waves of pleasure through you with every grind.
Yoongiâs breathing has grown heavier, no longer perfectly controlled. Each exhale comes with a quiet, shaky sound, half groan, half sigh as you continue to pull at his hair and roll your hips. His mouth moves from your lips to your jaw, then down to your neck, sucking and biting softly, leaving faint marks that make you shiver.
You can feel the tension in his body, the way his thighs are tight beneath you, the subtle tremor in his hands as he touches you. Heâs letting go, piece by piece, and the sounds heâs starting to makeâ those low, gravelly groans that rumble from deep in his chest are everything youâve been craving.
He pulls back just enough to look at you, lips swollen and wet, eyes dark with lust and something deeper. His hair is already messy from your fingers, falling into his eyes in a way that makes him look devastatingly attractive. âSee what you do to me?â he murmurs, voice husky and strained. Another soft groan slips out when you roll your hips again. âThis is just the start, baby.â
You roll your hips again, slower this time, dragging your core along the thick ridge of his cock through his sweatpants. The friction is perfectâ hot, teasing, not enough and yet almost too much. A shaky breath leaves Yoongiâs lips, and this time itâs accompanied by a low, rumbling groan that vibrates straight through his chest and into yours. âShitâŚâ he mutters against your neck, the word barely formed but heavy with need. His hands tighten on your hips, fingers digging in as he guides you into another slow grind. "Feels good."
The praise hits you like a spark. Youâve never heard him talk like this during sexâ never heard him say much of anything and it makes heat flood between your legs. You pull harder on his hair, tugging his head back slightly so you can look at his face. His eyes are half-lidded, dark and glossy, lips parted as another quiet groan slips out when you circle your hips just right.
You love it. You love every single sound heâs letting escape. Encouraged, you start moving with more purpose, rolling your hips in deep, deliberate waves, pressing down harder so the seam of your pants rubs right against his length. Each grind makes his cock twitch beneath you, growing fuller and harder until heâs rock-solid and straining against the fabric. The heat of him radiates through the layers, and you can feel yourself getting wetter, slickness starting to soak through your own panties.
Yoongiâs head falls back against the couch cushion, exposing the long line of his throat. Another groan tears from himâ deeper, rougher, this time when you drag your clit along his cock again. âFuck, baby⌠keep doing that,â he breathes, voice husky and strained. His usual composure is cracking wider with every roll of your hips. âYouâre gonna make me lose it right here.â
You whimper at his words, the sound genuine and needy, and grind down harder, chasing the building pressure. Your hands stay buried in his hair, pulling and tugging in time with your movements, and every little yank draws another sound from himâ a low curse, a broken groan, a shaky exhale that sounds almost like a whine. Heâs talking more now, the words spilling out between heavy breaths as his restraint unravels.
âYou have no idea⌠how much I want you,â he rasps, hips bucking up to meet your grind. âEvery time Iâm inside you I have to hold back so I donât sound like a fucking messâŚyou feel too good.â
His hands slide up under your shirt, palms hot and greedy as they roam over your bare back, then down to squeeze your ass, pulling you even tighter against him. The new angle makes his clothed cock press right against your clit with every roll, sending sharp sparks of pleasure shooting up your spine. You moan softly, real and unrestrained, and Yoongi responds with a deep, guttural sound that makes your walls clench around nothing.
âYeah⌠just like that,â he murmurs, voice dropping even lower. âLet me hear you too, baby. Donât hold back for me.â You grind faster, more desperately, the couch creaking softly beneath you both. The fabric between you is starting to feel like too much, too many layers keeping you from what you really want. Sweat is already beading along Yoongiâs hairline, his hair sticking to his forehead in messy strands. His chest rises and falls quicker now, breaths coming in short, ragged pants punctuated by those beautiful, broken groans every time you drag your hips over him just right.
You lean down and kiss him again, messy, open-mouthed, tongues sliding hotly together. He groans into the kiss, the sound vibrating against your lips as his hips jerk up involuntarily, chasing more friction. One of his hands leaves your ass to slide between your bodies, pressing firmly over your core through your pants, rubbing in tight circles that match your grinding rhythm. âGod, youâre so wet already,â he mutters against your mouth, voice thick with awe and lust. âAll this just from grinding on me? Fuck⌠I did this to you?â
You nod frantically, pulling his hair again as another needy sound escapes him. Youâre loving every second of it, the way his voice is getting raspier, the way heâs starting to talk dirty in that low, gravelly tone, the way his usual quiet control is shattering because of you. âYoongiâŚâ you whine, grinding down hard, âI love hearing you like this. Donât stop. Please donât stop.â
He lets out a shaky laugh that turns into a groan when you tug his hair particularly hard. His hips buck up sharply, pressing his cock right against your clit. The grinding has turned desperate, both of you breathing hard and chasing friction like you canât get close enough. Yoongiâs hands are gripping your hips tightly, guiding every roll of your body against his, his cock rock-hard and throbbing beneath you
Then he pulls back just enough to look at you, eyes dark and glassy with lust. His voice comes out rough, almost pleading. âRide me,â he says, the words thick and heavy. âPlease, baby⌠I need you to ride me.â
Your heart stutters. Youâve never ridden him before. Almost every time youâve had sex itâs been missionaryâ him on top, controlled and steady, quiet and composed. The idea of being on top, of taking him like this, makes nervous butterflies erupt in your stomach. But the way heâs looking at you, the raw need in his voice, the way his hands tremble slightly on your hips⌠you canât say no. You nod, voice barely a whisper. âOkay⌠yeah.â
Relief and hunger flash across his face. Yoongi moves quickly but carefully, helping you peel off your shirt and bra, his hands warm and eager as they slide over your skin. He tugs your pants and panties down your legs, lifting you slightly so he can yank them off completely. You do the same for him, pulling his t-shirt over his head, exposing the lean, toned lines of his chest and stomach, then helping him shove his sweatpants and boxers down his thighs. His cock springs free, thick and flushed, already leaking at the tip, hard and curving slightly upward.
Youâre both completely bare now, skin hot and flushed in the dim light of the living room. Yoongi leans back against the couch again, one hand wrapping around the base of his cock, holding it steady for you. His other hand rests on your thigh, thumb stroking soothing circles. You swing one leg over his lap fully, straddling him. Your hands find the back of the couch on either side of his head, gripping the cushions for balance. Slowly, you lower yourself, the head of his cock brushing against your slick folds. Youâre so wet from all the grinding that it glides easily at first, but as you start to sink down, the stretch hits you.
Yoongi is bigâ thicker and longer than you sometimes remember in the heat of the moment. You pause halfway, breathing shakily as you adjust to his size, walls fluttering around him. The fullness is intense, almost overwhelming in this new position. A broken, needy sound escapes Yoongi the moment you start sliding down. âFuck⌠oh my god,â he groans, low and guttural, head tipping back against the couch. His eyes squeeze shut for a second, lips parting as another deep moan rumbles from his chest. âYouâre so tight⌠so fucking wet around me.â
He sounds completely gone alreadyâ pussy whipped in the best way. The usually quiet, controlled Yoongi is unraveling right beneath you, and you havenât even taken all of him yet. You sink lower, taking another inch, and his hips twitch up instinctively. âShitâ baby, you feel incredible,â he rasps, voice strained and hoarse. His hands fly to your waist, not pushing, just holding on like he needs the anchor. âSo good⌠taking me so well. Look at youâŚâ
Another long, shaky groan leaves him when you finally bottom out, your ass flush against his thighs, his cock buried to the hilt inside you. His breathing is ragged now, chest rising and falling rapidly. You can feel him throbbing deep inside, hot and heavy, stretching you perfectly. âFuck⌠Iâve wanted this,â he confesses, the words tumbling out between heavy breaths. âWanted to see you on top of me like this⌠wanted to feel you ride me. Youâre so sexy, baby. So fucking sexy.â
You stay still for a moment, hands gripping the back of the couch tightly, adjusting to the new angle and the overwhelming fullness. Every little shift of your hips makes him groan again, loud, unrestrained sounds that go straight to your core. Yoongi looks utterly wrecked already: eyes half-lidded and dark with lust, mouth open as more soft, desperate noises fall from his lips.
Heâs never been this vocal, never this lost in it, and the sight of him like thisâ because of youâmakes heat coil tight in your belly. You love it. You love how he canât hold back the sounds anymore, how every tiny movement from you pulls another moan or curse from him. Yoongiâs hands slide up your sides, thumbs brushing the undersides of your breasts as he looks up at you with pure reverence.
âWhenever youâre ready⌠babe,â he murmurs, voice husky and pleading again. âPlease. I need to feel you move.â
You take a shaky breath, hands gripping the back of the couch tighter as you adjust to the deep, full stretch of him inside you. Yoongiâs cock feels even bigger in this positionâ thick and hot, pressing against every sensitive spot with no escape. The fullness is overwhelming in the best way, sending little sparks of pleasure radiating through your core with every tiny shift of your hips. Slowly, you begin to move.
You rise up carefully, feeling every inch of him drag along your walls as you lift until only the head remains inside you. The stretch when you sink back down is incredible, slow, deliberate, and devastating. You let yourself fall fully onto his cock, taking him to the hilt in one smooth drop. A soft, breathy moan escapes your own lips at the sensation, but itâs nothing compared to the sound that rips from Yoongi. âFuuuckâŚâ he groans, long and deep, the word breaking at the end. His head falls back against the couch again, eyes fluttering shut as his fingers dig into your waist. âBaby⌠just like that. God, you feel so good sliding down on me.â
The praise makes your stomach flutter. You repeat the motionâ rising slowly, savoring the drag, then letting gravity pull you back down, impaling yourself on his thick length. Each time you bottom out, his cock nudges deep inside you, pressing right against that spot that makes your thighs tremble. The wet, obscene sound of your bodies meeting fills the quiet living room, mixing with the growing chorus of his sounds.
Yoongiâs hands slide from your waist down to find yours. He laces your fingers together, gripping both of your hands firmly in his. His palms are warm and slightly sweaty, thumbs stroking over the backs of your hands in a grounding rhythm even as his breathing grows more ragged.
You hold onto him like that, hands clasped tightly as you start to find a steady pace. Up and down, rolling your hips in a smooth, sensual rhythm that has pleasure building low in your belly. Every rise lets you feel the thick drag of him leaving you, every fall lets you feel the delicious stretch as he fills you completely again. The angle is perfect; his cock rubs against your front wall with every movement, and when you grind down at the bottom of each stroke, your clit presses against his pubic bone, sending sharp bursts of ecstasy through you. Yoongiâs groans grow louder, less controlled. âShit⌠yes,â he rasps, squeezing your hands harder. âRide me just like that. Youâre taking me so deep⌠fuck, I can feel every inch of you.â
His hips start to buck up gently to meet your downward strokes, not taking over but adding to the rhythm, driving him even deeper. The new pressure makes stars burst behind your eyelids. You both moan together, your sounds mixing with his deeper, rougher ones. Heâs completely lost in it now, no longer holding anything back. âLook at youâŚâ he breathes, voice husky and reverent. His eyes are open again, locked on where your bodies connect, watching his cock disappear inside you with every fall.
You squeeze his hands tighter, using the leverage to bounce a little harder, finding a pace that has you both seeing stars. The couch creaks softly beneath you with every movement. Sweat beads on Yoongiâs chest, making his skin glisten in the low light, he looks up at you with dark, blown-out eyes. Every time you sink down, he lets out a broken groan or a whispered curse. âRight thereâ fuck, baby, right thereâŚâ When you rise up slowly, dragging along his length, he whines softly, the sound so needy it makes your walls clench around him. âDonât stop⌠please donât stop.â
Youâre both panting now, the pace steady but buildingâ rising and falling, grinding at the bottom of each stroke, hands clasped tightly together like an anchor. Pleasure coils tighter and tighter in your core, the stretch and fullness combined with the new freedom of being on top making everything feel more intense. Yoongiâs sounds keep feeding your own arousal, each groan and rasp pushing you closer to the edge. He squeezes your hands again, thumbs stroking desperately over your skin. âYouâre gonna make me cum if you keep going like this,â he admits, voice strained and raw. âBut donât you dare slow down⌠I want to feel you fall apart on me first.â
You lean down slightly, lips brushing near his ear as you breathe out, voice soft but teasing, âJust like that, baby?â The words have an immediate effect. Yoongiâs eyes snap open wider, a low, guttural growl rumbling from deep in his chest. The sound is primal, nothing like the quiet grunts youâre used to. His fingers tighten around yours for a second before he suddenly releases your hands. Instead, his palms slide down to grip your hips firmly, fingers digging into the soft flesh with clear intent.
âFuck yes⌠just like that,â he growls, voice rough and strained.
Before you can react, he plants his feet on the floor and starts thrusting up into you from below. The change is sudden and powerfulâ his hips snapping upward hard, driving his cock deep inside you with each powerful stroke. The new pace makes you bounce on his lap, breasts jiggling with every impact. The wet slap of skin against skin grows louder, echoing in the living room as he pounds into you relentlessly. You gasp sharply, hands flying to the back of the couch again for balance as he fucks you from below. Each thrust is deep and precise, the head of his cock hitting that perfect spot inside you over and over. The stretch feels even more intense now, your walls clenching around him with every forceful plunge.
Emboldened by his reaction, you keep talking, voice breaking with every hard thrust. âHow does my pussy feel?â you ask breathlessly, the dirty words spilling out before you can overthink them. âTell me, Yoongi⌠does it feel good?â
Another deep, animalistic growl tears from his throat. His grip on your hips tightens almost bruisingly as he pulls you down to meet his upward thrusts, impaling you harder on his cock. The pace turns punishingâ fast, deep, desperate. The couch creaks loudly beneath you both from the force of his movements. âSo fucking good,â he snarls, voice low and gravelly, eyes locked on yours with raw hunger. âYour pussy is so tight⌠so wet⌠sucking me in like it was made for me. Fuckâ Iâve never felt anything this good.â
He punctuates his words with sharper thrusts, hips snapping up brutally. Each powerful stroke makes your head spin, pleasure crashing through you in waves. You can feel how deep he is, how perfectly he fills you, the slick sounds growing wetter and messier as you drip around his cock.
Yoongiâs breathing is ragged, mixed with constant growls and broken moans. âKeep talking to me, baby,â he demands, voice hoarse. âTell me more⌠I want to hear you.â
You moan loudly, the sound genuine and unrestrained as he continues pounding into you from below. His hands guide your hips to meet his thrusts, the rhythm relentless. Sweat slicks both of your skins, making your bodies slide together hotly. His hair is completely damp now, sticking to his forehead, and his face is flushed with exertion and lust. You ride the wave of his thrusts, letting him take control from below while you still set the angle. âYouâre so deep like this,â you gasp, voice trembling. âI can feel you everywhere⌠youâre gonna make me cum if you keep fucking me like this.â
Yoongi lets out another feral growl, hips stuttering for a moment before he doubles down, thrusting even harder. One of his hands slides from your hip to your ass, squeezing hard as he pulls you down onto his cock with every upward snap.
âYeah? You like when I pound into you like this?â he rasps, eyes dark and wild. âMy baby talking dirty now⌠fuck, itâs driving me insane.â The new dynamic has you both spiraling, your words pulling more sounds and filthy confessions from him, his powerful thrusts from below making stars explode behind your eyes. The pleasure is building fast and intense, your walls fluttering around his thick length with every brutal stroke. Yoongi looks completely lost in you, growling and groaning with every thrust, no longer holding back even a single sound.
Yoongiâs grip on your ass is bruising as he uses it for leverage, pulling you down onto his cock with every powerful upward thrust. Heâs pounding into you from below with relentless force now, hips snapping up hard and fast, driving his thick length deep inside you over and over. The wet, filthy sound of skin slapping against skin fills the living room, mixing with his low, animalistic growls and your broken moans.
One of his hands stays firmly on your ass, squeezing and spreading you as he fucks up into you, while the other slides up your back, fingers digging into your skin. Every brutal stroke hits that perfect spot inside you, the angle making his cock rub against your front wall relentlessly. Pleasure coils tighter and tighter in your core, winding like a spring ready to snap. âYoongiâfuck, Iâmââ Your voice breaks as the orgasm crashes over you without warning.
Your entire body jolts violently on top of him. Your walls clamp down hard around his cock, pulsing and fluttering as waves of intense pleasure rip through you. Your thighs shake uncontrollably, toes curling, back arching sharply as you cry out. Bright sparks explode behind your eyelids. You grind down desperately against him, riding out every pulse, your slickness gushing around his length as you cum hard on his cock.
Yoongi groans loudly at the feeling, a deep, wrecked sound that vibrates through his chest, but he doesnât let himself follow you over the edge. His thrusts slow just enough to help you ride it out, but his cock stays rock-hard and throbbing inside you, denying his own release.
The moment your shaking starts to ease, he moves.
In one swift, fluid motion, Yoongi pulls out of you, leaving you feeling devastatingly empty. You barely have time to whimper at the loss before heâs manhandling you with surprising strength. He flips you over the arm of the couch, bending you forward so your chest and stomach press against the soft cushions while your ass is raised high for him. Your knees sink into the seat, legs spread wide.
You gasp sharply as he grabs both of your arms, pulling them behind your back and pinning them there with one strong hand. The position leaves you completely exposed and at his mercy, breasts squished against the couch, cheek resting on the cushion.
Yoongi doesnât give you a second to adjust.
He slams back into you in one hard, deep thrust, burying his cock to the hilt in your still-spasming pussy. The new angle is even deeper, stretching you wide and making your eyes roll back. A loud, broken moan tears from your throat at the sudden fullness. Then he starts fucking you hard and fast. His hips snap forward with brutal precision, pounding into you from behind like heâs lost all control. The sound of his pelvis slapping against your ass is loud and obscene, echoing through the room. Each powerful thrust rocks your entire body forward, the arm of the couch digging into your stomach as he rails you relentlessly.
âFuckâ yes,â he growls, voice rough and feral. His free hand grips your hip tightly, using it as leverage to pull you back onto his cock with every stroke. âThis is what you wanted, isnât it? Me losing control⌠fucking you like this.â
You love it. You love every second of it.
The way he has your arms pinned behind your back makes you feel deliciously helpless, completely owned by him. Every hard thrust sends fresh sparks of pleasure shooting through you, your sensitive walls still fluttering from your orgasm. The new position hits even deeper, his cock dragging along every sensitive spot inside you. Youâre moaning loudly, unrestrained, pushing your ass back to meet his thrusts as much as you can in this trapped position.
Yoongiâs sounds are constant nowâ deep, guttural growls, broken groans, and filthy words spilling from his lips with every slam of his hips. âGod, your pussy is gripping me so tight,â he rasps, pounding harder. âSo fucking wet⌠you came so hard on me and youâre still this greedy for more?â
He leans over you, chest pressing against your back, lips brushing your ear as he fucks you even faster, building another orgasm dangerously quickly. Youâre trembling, moaning into the cushion, completely lost in the overwhelming pleasure of being taken so roughly, so desperately by him. Yoongiâs pace never faltersâ hard, fast, deep, his hand keeping your arms securely pinned while he claims you completely.
Yoongi is fucking you so hard that the entire couch shifts beneath you with every brutal thrust.
Your arms are still pinned behind your back by his strong grip, your body bent helplessly over the arm of the couch as he rails into you from behind. Each powerful snap of his hips drives his thick cock impossibly deep, the wet, obscene slap of skin against skin echoing loudly in the room. Your pussy is soaked, fluttering and clenching around him with every stroke, still sensitive from your first orgasm. The overwhelming pleasure has tipped over into something almost too intense â your moans have turned into broken sobs, tears leaking from the corners of your eyes as your body jolts forward with every thrust.
âFuck⌠youâre taking me so well,â Yoongi growls, voice rough and strained, but he doesnât slow down. His hips piston into you relentlessly, the head of his cock dragging against that perfect spot inside you over and over. âLook at you⌠sobbing on my cock. So fucking pretty.â
He leans closer, chest pressed hot against your back, lips brushing your ear as he keeps pounding into you. âTell me, baby⌠whose pussy is this?â
You can barely form words through the sobs and moans tearing from your throat. Every hard thrust knocks the breath out of you, making your voice come out shaky and wrecked. âItâs yours,â you sob, the words breaking apart. âItâs yours⌠only yours, Yoongiâ ahh!â
The moment the confession leaves your lips, his free hand comes down hard on your ass in a sharp smack. The sting blooms hot across your skin, making you cry out louder. He doesnât stop there, smack after smack lands on your ass, alternating cheeks, each one timed perfectly with a deep thrust. The pain mixes deliciously with the pleasure, sending sparks shooting straight to your core.
Your ass burns under his palm, but you push back against him desperately, craving more. Youâre losing yourself completelyâ mind hazy, body trembling, tears streaming down your face as he claims you so thoroughly. Yoongi growls in approval, landing one particularly hard smack that makes your whole body jolt. âThatâs right. This pussy is mine. Only mine. No one else gets to feel how tight and wet you get.â
Then he releases your arms only to slide his hand up and fist tightly into your hair. He yanks your head back firmly, arching your back deeper as he slams into you over and over and over. The angle is devastating â his cock drives even deeper, pounding that sensitive spot with brutal precision. The pull on your scalp sends fresh waves of pleasure-pain through you, making your sobs turn into high, broken whimpers.
âFuckâyes, just like that,â he snarls, hips snapping relentlessly. âTake it. Take every fucking inch.â
Youâre completely lost now, body shaking violently as another orgasm builds fast and unstoppable. Your walls flutter wildly around his cock, clenching down hard as the pleasure crests.
âIâmâ Iâm cummingâ Yoongi!â you sob loudly, the words dissolving into a broken cry.
Your second orgasm hits you even harder than the first. Your entire body convulses, pussy spasming and gushing around his thick length as waves of intense ecstasy crash through you. Your thighs shake uncontrollably, vision blurring with tears, sobs tearing from your throat as you cum hard on his cock, soaking him and the couch beneath you.
Yoongi follows right behind you.
A deep, trembling groan rips from his chest as his hips stutter. He slams into you one final time, burying himself to the hilt as he cums hard, thick ropes of hot cum spilling deep inside you. His whole body trembles against your back, muscles locking up as he pulses and fills you completely. Low, broken sounds keep falling from his lipsâ raw, unrestrained groans and shaky curses as he rides out his orgasm, hips grinding shallowly against your ass to push every last drop into you.
For a long moment, the only sounds in the room are your combined heavy breathing and soft, lingering whimpers. Yoongiâs grip on your hair loosens gently, his hand sliding down to stroke your back soothingly even as his cock continues to twitch inside you. His body is still trembling slightly against yours, sweat-slicked chest pressed to your back, heart hammering wildly.
He stays buried deep, both of you panting and shaking in the aftermath, the intensity of what just happened hanging heavy and electric in the air. His chest is still pressed to your back, heart pounding wildly against your skin. Then, slowly and carefully, he pulls out of you with a wet, slick sound. A soft whimper escapes your lips at the sudden emptiness and the gush of his cum that immediately starts leaking down your thighs.
Your body gives out completely.
You slump forward against the arm of the couch, completely spent, limbs heavy and boneless. Your cheek presses into the soft cushion, chest heaving as you try to catch your breath. Every muscle feels deliciously usedâ your thighs still quivering, your ass warm and stinging from his smacks, your pussy pulsing with the aftershocks of two intense orgasms. Tears of overwhelming pleasure still cling to your lashes, and your breathing comes in shaky, ragged gasps.
You hear Yoongi move behind you, his footsteps soft on the floor. He disappears for a moment, then returns with a warm, damp cloth. Gently, almost reverently, he cleans you up â wiping away the mess of your combined releases from between your thighs, along your folds, and down your legs with careful strokes. His touch is soothing now, completely different from the rough way heâd handled you just minutes ago. The warm cloth feels heavenly against your overheated skin.
When heâs done, he helps you shift off the arm of the couch and onto the cushions properly. You curl onto your side, still breathing hard, body limp and glowing. Yoongi grabs the glass of water from earlier (the one that had been forgotten on the coffee table) and refills it in the kitchen before coming back. He sits on the edge of the couch and carefully helps you sit up just enough to take a few slow sips. The cool water slides down your throat, soothing and refreshing.
You look up at him through heavy-lidded eyes as he sets the glass aside. Yoongiâs hair is a complete mess, damp strands sticking to his forehead. His cheeks are still flushed, chest rising and falling with deep breaths, but his expression has softened completelyâ those sharp eyes now warm and full of affection as he looks at you. âThat wasâŚâ you start, voice hoarse and wrecked from all the moaning and sobbing. You swallow, a small, tired smile tugging at your lips. âThat was the best sex Iâve ever had in my entire life.â
Yoongi lets out a soft, breathless laugh, the sound low and warm. He leans down and presses a tender kiss to your forehead, then to the tip of your nose, and finally to your lipsâ slow, gentle, and full of love. His hand cups your cheek, thumb brushing away the last traces of tears. âYeah,â he murmurs against your mouth, voice still a little raspy. âMe too, baby. Best Iâve ever had. Hands down.â
He kisses you again, deeper this time but still so tender, lips moving softly against yours like heâs pouring every ounce of his feelings into it. When he pulls back, he rests his forehead against yours, eyes closed for a moment as he savors the closeness.
âI love you,â he whispers, the words quiet but heavy with meaning. âSo much. And Iâm sorry I held back for so long. I never want you to doubt how crazy you make me⌠how much you affect me.â
You smile tiredly, reaching up to thread your fingers through his messy hair. âI love you too. And Iâm glad you finally let go. It was⌠everything.â Yoongi hums softly in agreement, shifting so he can lie down on the couch and pull you into his arms. He tucks you against his chest, one arm wrapped securely around your waist while his other hand strokes slow, soothing patterns up and down your back. His skin is still warm, heart beating steady beneath your ear now that the intensity has faded.
The living room is quiet again, the TV long forgotten, only the sound of your slowing breaths and the faint hum of the apartment filling the space. You feel safe, cherished, and thoroughly satisfiedâ the earlier insecurities completely washed away by the way he just proved exactly how much you mean to him. Yoongi presses another soft kiss to the top of your head, holding you close as you both come down together, bodies tangled and hearts even closer.
