summary: rough sex, blood money, drugs, gang related activity, and murder; five things you never predicted to experience in your simple life. not until you opened your mouth and caught his attention.
pairings: gang leader!yoongi x f!reader.
warnings: smut, gunplay, drugs, drug addiction, dark!yoongi, drug lord!yoongi, strong language, gang violence, blood and gore, murder, manipulation, possessive/obsessive behavior, abuse, cheating, angst, fluff, dubcon, implied noncon (not from yoongi but within his gang with his knowledge), 18+, minors dni.
word count: 12.5k.
author’s note: omg i was not as close to being done as i thought i was. there was so much i didn’t add to this chapter, yk i like to leave every chapter at a cliff hanger but i’ve been writing this since i got off work yesterday and just said fuck it lmaooo. i got no sleep, so forgive me if there are errors. i’ll have to reread when I have time and my eyes aren’t groggy as dick rn.
Your eyes fluttered open, a searing ache echoing through your head the second consciousness hit. Groaning, you instinctively turned to check the bedside clock, only to find an empty space next to you where your nightstand should be. This wasn’t your room. Then, last night came rushing back like a tidal wave. Yoongi. You were at his warehouse, a fact that became entirely real as a solid, radiating warmth shifted next to you. Turning your head, you found the raven haired man fast asleep. You could have sworn the two of you had dozed off on the couch, yet somehow, you were waking up in his bed. He must’ve carried you from the couch to his room last night.
You watched him for a moment, tracking the steady rise and fall of his chest in his slumber, his dark locks splayed across the pillow. Even in sleep, he was ethereal. But none of that mattered right now—you didn’t have the luxury of time to admire him. All you wanted was to slip out undetected and go home, even if it meant walking until you hit a bus stop.
You slowly crept from the bed, careful not to disturb him. Thankfully, you were still in your dress, saving you the trouble of getting ready, but the bare, chilly absence beneath your hem was a stark reminder of what was missing. Your panties. You scanned the floor, searching for a flash of white cotton, but your undergarments were nowhere to be found. Just then, a faint memory sparked; they were probably still out in the living room.
You tiptoed to the door, your hand hovering just over the handle. Before you could turn it, a deep, raspy morning voice cut through the silence behind you. “Usually, I’m the one sneaking out of a woman’s room.” You froze. Turning back, you found Yoongi still tangled in the sheets, his attention fixed entirely on you. A slow smirk played on his lips. “It’s an interesting change to see it done to me.”
You sighed, dropping your shoulders as you backed away from the door. “Sorry. I wasn’t trying to wake you,” you said, awkwardly rubbing your arm. Yoongi sat up, his dark hair messy around his face. He carelessly brushed the strands back with his fingers, his eyes tracking your nervous movements. “Yeah, well,” he murmured, his voice still thick with sleep. “You’re not very good at it.”
“Sorry…” you muttered again.
Yoongi stared at you in silence, his penetrating gaze reading your expression. “So, what? You planned on sneaking out and walking all the way through Gongdan to get home?” he asked, his voice deadpan but laced with genuine disbelief. “Why didn’t you just ask me for a ride?”
You shrugged, trying to sound a lot more casual than you felt. “I just thought I’d take a bus. I have work today... and plans after that. I didn’t want to disturb you.”
“Bullshit,” he said, a low scowl settling on his face. “I know you don’t work today, y/n.”
The realization hit you with a cold drop in your stomach—he knew your schedule. How could you have forgotten that? Thanks a lot Jin. Yoongi shifted, his dissecting eyes locking onto yours with complete austerity. “Be honest with me. You regret what we did last night?”
You pulled your bottom lip inward, scrambling for a response. If you were being honest with yourself, the sobriety didn't change a thing—you didn't regret it. You liked it. A lot, actually. You could still feel the phantom warmth of his touch humming under your skin, but reality quickly pushed its way back into the room. Nothing could ever come of this. “Can you just… stop now?” you whispered, looking anywhere but at him. Refusing to give him an answer, you clutched your arms tight around yourself.
“Stop what?” he pressed, his voice dropping into a dangerous, quiet register.
“This,” you snapped, the words spilling out before you could hold them back. “You got everything you wanted. You wanted me to come to your party, I did. You wanted me to go to the fair, I did. You wanted to fuck me and take my virginity, you did. Now you can stop coming around. You can just let me live my life as it was and work on my relationship with Jungkook.”
A fierce glare twisted Yoongi's features, his expression darkening into something unrecognizable. He poked his tongue against the inside of his cheek, staring you down with terrifying coldness.
“You think pussy is all I wanted from you?”
The raw bluntness of the question sliced straight through your armor. You weren’t stupid. Sana had been there before you, and she’d made it perfectly clear; Yoongi didn’t do feelings. He took what he wanted and left the wreckage behind. You had absolutely no intention of ruining things with Jungkook for a single, chaotic night with a man who could never belong to anyone. Shoving your feelings down deep, you braced yourself and looked him in the eyes. “It doesn't matter what I think because this can’t happen again. Please, just take me home, Yoongi.”
“I'm not taking you anywhere, y/n.”
“Fine. I'll walk then,” you retorted, turning on your heel. You reached blindly for the doorknob, but before your fingers could even curl around the metal, Yoongi was out of bed.
He caught you in a heartbeat, the solid weight of his body slamming your back hard against the wood of the door. Before you could even gasp, his hands came up to cup either side of your face, his lips smashing against yours in a fierce, demanding kiss. You fought against him, your palms flat against the front of his white shirt as you tried to shove him back, but he didn't give you an inch. He held you pinned, taking everything you tried to withhold. Gradually, the desperate fight drained from your limbs. Your resistance shattered, and you melted against him, unable to fight the intoxicating pull of his mouth any longer.
Yoongi pulled back slightly, breaking the kiss just enough to catch his breath. He kept his forehead pressed firmly against yours, his thumbs still tracing your cheekbones. Both of you were breathing heavily, the air between you thick.
“I told you before,” he rasped, his voice dropping to a low, intense tone that vibrated straight through you. “I don’t just want you sexually. I want all of you.”
You stared into his dark eyes, searching them as if you could read the secrets he kept so tightly guarded. You needed a crack in his armor, anything to prove this was all a lie.
“Why me, Yoongi?” you whispered, your voice catching in your throat. “There are other women out there. Endless options. So why me?”
Yoongi didn't blink. His gaze locked onto yours, unyielding and heavier than before. “Because you're not like other women.”
You didn’t believe that for a single second. You were exactly like other women—at least the ones Yoongi probably dealt with. You definitely weren’t the first girl he’d met who had folded in his presence, and you certainly weren't the first to cheat on a significant other with him. You had always prided yourself on never being that kind of person. You were supposed to be the loyal one, the safe choice. But now? The truth tasted bitter in your mouth.
You were a cheater.
“I'm with Jungkook,” you reminded him, the words flying out like a shield you were desperately trying to hold up. But you knew he didn't need the reminder.
Yoongi simply didn't care.
“I thought you told me he wasn't your boyfriend yet,” he rumbled, his breath brushing warm against your lips.
“Official or not, the point still stands.”
“Does it?” he questioned.
His hands slid away from your face, leaving a trail of heat as they moved downward, roaming slowly up your waist. You caught your breath as his fingers snagged the material of your dress, intentionally lifting it in the process, his touch burning right through the barrier. He leaned in closer, his lips brushing the sensitive skin of your jaw as he spoke, the bluntness of his words hitting like a physical touch. “Do you still feel me inside of you? My fingers, my cock, my cum?”
A hot shiver raced down your spine. Your thighs shook under the slide of his hands, your legs trembling so badly they felt like they could no longer support your weight. He was wholly undoing you. “You know what you're gonna do?” Yoongi kept going, his voice a low, toxic purr designed to shatter whatever pride you had left.
“You're gonna go home to your little boyfriend, you're gonna sit and watch your little movies on the couch, and you're gonna think about how I fucked you on top of mine. How I had you saying my name.”
He pressed himself harder into you, your back grinding against the door as he forced you to feel the solid, thick length of his erection pressing right against your thighs. “Y-Yoongi... I can't…” you whimpered, your head tossing back against the wood, your mind spinning into a total frenzy.
“And when you do think about me,” he whispered, lips now brushing yours, utterly unwavering, “you're gonna come right back, and I'm gonna fuck you again on my couch.”
You let out an involuntary moan, your hands clinging to his shirt for support as your knees threatened to buckle. The friction between you was suffocating, but you forced your eyes open to meet his.
“What is it that you want from me, Yoongi?” you asked, the raw honesty of the question bleeding into the quiet room. You genuinely wanted to know if this was just some game to him.
Yoongi went entirely still. The ruthless smirk faded from his lips, his expression turning intensely serious as his forehead pressed back against yours.
“I wanna give you everything this world has to offer.”
You curled up in your bed, your arms wrapped around your pillow as you compressed it against your chest. The pillowcase smelled faintly of your regular life, of laundry detergent and regimen, but everything felt wrong. Yoongi’s words were still ringing in your ears, a permanent echo that made it impossible to breathe normally. You were back where you were supposed to be, but you felt out of place.
You wanted to call Mina, needing someone to vent to about last night, but you knew it wasn't a good idea. Sure, Mina had been pushing you to sleep with someone else since Jungkook was taking his sweet time, but she would rather hear a story about you losing your virginity to Jimin—maybe even Hoseok. Honestly, anyone but Yoongi.
Part of you felt the same. Anyone but Yoongi.
Biting your bottom lip, you reached across the nightstand for your phone. It unlocked instantly with Face ID, and you tapped open the phone app. Yoongi’s call sat directly at the top of your recent logs—just a raw, nameless phone number. You tapped it and scrolled straight to the block option.
You could be entirely rid of him right now. Truthfully, you had never actually tried to just ignore him and see what happened. You were always so quick to give in, so quick to say yes, trapped by the suffocating feeling that he would never take no for an answer anyway.
Just as you were about to tap the button and block him, the phone buzzed against your palm. You swiped open the notification, a single new message staring back at you from the nameless number—almost as if he knew exactly what you were planning to do.
“Think about what I said, sweetheart.”
You stared at the screen for five agonizing minutes, the text burning into your mind.
Everything this world has to offer…
He had said those exact words to you at the fair, too.
But you didn’t deserve everything this world had to offer. That was a privilege reserved for people who didn’t cheat.
You scoffed, tossing your phone back onto the nightstand, not bothering to respond. Pulling the pillow up tightly against your face, you buried yourself in the fabric and let out a smothered screech.
You had never thought you’d be the girl caught between two men. You had never imagined there was a guy on earth who could actually cloud your judgment when it came to Jungkook.
Then Yoongi had come barreling into your life like a hurricane, relentlessly pressing until you simply couldn't fight him anymore, and you finally gave in.
You pulled the pillow away from your face, clutching it back against your breastbone as you stared up at the blank, shadowed ceiling. Maybe things could go back to normal after tonight. You desperately needed to believe they could.
You closed your eyes and tried to conjure the memory of a typical night with Jungkook—the comforting smell of buttered popcorn, a movie playing softly in the background, and the two of you curled up in each other’s arms on the couch just like you always did. It was a routine built on quiet certainty. There were no chaotic parties, no choking clouds of marijuana smoke, and no burning alcohol to blur the lines between right and wrong. Just safety. Just him.
But the image felt fragile now, like a photograph left out in the rain. Every time you tried to picture Jungkook’s steady, reassuring smile, Yoongi’s voice would echo in your mind, sharp and demanding, shattering the peace. You were trying to cling to a version of yourself that didn’t exist anymore. How could you sit on that couch and look Jungkook in the eye, pretending your hands were clean, when the ghost of Yoongi’s touch still felt practically branded onto your skin?
Your phone abruptly rang, shattering the quiet and snapping you back to reality. You grabbed it from the nightstand, your eyes darting to the contact name lighting up the screen.
‘Kookie Cake 🍪🍰’
Jungkook was calling. Hopefully, he was ringing to tell you he was finally on his way over to your place. Right now, you wanted nothing more than to drop the pillow and wrap your arms around him, holding him close enough to make the rest of the world vanish.
You swiped the screen, your thumb trembling slightly as you brought the phone to your ear.
“Hey,” you murmured, trying to force your voice to sound steady—to sound like the girl he had talked to yesterday. The girl who hadn't broken his trust. “Are you on your way?”
“Hey, beautiful,” Jungkook’s voice came through the speaker, warm and instantly grounding. “No, I’m not. I’m sorry about this, honey, but... I gotta rain check on tonight.”
The words hit you like a physical blow. “Rain check?” Your voice trailed off, disappointment pooling in your chest
“Yeah, a client came into the shop late wanting a major cover-up on his back. It's already past 9:00 PM, and there's no way I’m finishing in time for our movie night,” he sighed, sounding genuinely apologetic. “I know we had plans, but it’s a massive piece and the guy drove all the way from Seoul. I’d feel like shit turning him away. I'm really sorry, angel. Can I make it up to you tomorrow?”
“Jungkook…” you said softly, a trace of desperation slipping out before you could stop it. You squeezed the pillow tighter against your frame, an oppressive weight settling onto your sternum. “I was really looking forward to seeing you tonight. Can't someone else take over?”
On the other end, you heard the faint, distinct clink of his teeth against his lip piercing—a nervous tick. He wanted to see you just as badly, but the harsh reality was that business came first. As much as he loved you, he couldn't just walk out.
“Angel, every other artist is booked solid tonight,” he said gently. “I can’t just hand a client off to go on a movie date. I’m sorry, y/n.”
You wanted to beg him. You wanted to scream at him to drop the damn tattoo gun and drive over. You needed him here. You needed him to wipe away the lingering trace of Yoongi’s scent—that crisp, mocking citrus that still seemed to cling to your skin. You needed Jungkook's familiar, gentle presence to drown out the memory of last night, to blur the reality of how much you had actually enjoyed Yoongi fucking you into his couch.
Then, the desperation curdled into hot, defensive anger. Anger that Jungkook still treated this relationship like a secondary priority. Anger that he had ghosted you for two days after your fight instead of handling it. Anger at him for practically pushing you into another man’s arms.
“God, stop saying sorry! I’m so tired of hearing it,” you snapped, the fury bursting out of you. “I’m starting to feel like I don’t even matter to you!”
Silence stretched over the line. Jungkook was completely caught off guard by the sudden vitriol. “Woah, woah, where is this coming from?” he asked, his voice dropping into that calm, measured tone he always used to keep from raising his voice at you. “I just told you exactly how I felt about you a couple days ago.”
“Yeah, after you ghosted me for two days!” you shot back, the frustration bubbling over as you stood up from the bed, pacing the small confines of your room. “You disappeared, left me spinning, and the second you decide to come back, a walk-in from Seoul is suddenly more important than spending time with me.”
Jungkook let out a heavy, stressed exhale on the other end. “I didn't disappear to hurt you, angel. We both needed space to cool down after that fight. And this isn't about choosing a client over you. This is my job. I wasn't upset when you chose to hang out with Mina last night instead of me, was I?”
The mention of Mina made your chest tighten, a cold spike of panic cutting through your anger. He had no idea that the "girls' night" had actually been a cover story to hang out with Yoongi. The weight of the lie made you push back even harder, desperately trying to hide your guilt behind a wall of rage. “That’s completely different, Jungkook! What I had planned with Mina was already set in motion. It wasn’t something I just sprung on you and cancelled last minute. I’m sick of feeling like I come last to everything in your life!”
“That's bullshit and you know it, y/n!” Jungkook’s voice finally dropped into a harsh, defensive register, his usual calm cracking under the exhaustion of the day and the weight of your accusations. Having known you since high school, he usually knew exactly how to handle your moods, but right now, he was pushed past his limit. “I'm trying to build a career, make something of myself. I’m sorry that I actually have real goals, and I’m not working at some fucking minimum wage ramen shop!”
The line went completely dead inside your head, the words hanging heavily in the space between you.
As soon as the sentence left his mouth, you could hear Jungkook take a sharp, panicked breath through the speaker, the harsh reality of what he'd just said hitting him instantly. "Angel, wait, I didn't mean it like that–"
But the damage was done. Reminding you of the dead-end shifts at Makoto was a low blow, especially coming from the one person who had walked through every up and down with you since you were teenagers. It was at that moment you realized that Jungkook looked down on you for where you were in your life.
"Don't worry about it," you choked out, the anger instantly draining from your body, replaced by a hollow, sickening defeat. "Finish your work." Without waiting for the desperate plea already forming on the other end of the line, you ended the call.
You stopped pacing and sat at the edge of your mattress, brooding over his words. For a protracted stretch, you simply stared at the wall, your mind completely blank except for the sharp sting of his insult. The exhaustion of your actual reality—the long, thankless hours at Makoto—didn't even compare to the absolute exhaustion of knowing the person closest to you saw you as a failure.
Your phone buzzed in your hand; looking down, you saw Jungkook's name flashing. You declined it without a second thought. Tossing the device face down onto the mattress beside you, you found yourself unable to bear the sight of his name or the desperate, flashing light of a follow up text.
It buzzed again—a short, aggressive thud against the mattress that made your shoulders tense. Then another. And another. He was panicking, scrambling to build a bridge over the massive chasm he'd just violently ripped between the two of you. Unable to take the vibrations anymore, you grabbed your phone and completely muted any further calls or texts from the brunet.
You tossed it back onto the mattress, further away this time, as if the physical distance could help quiet the echo of his voice still ringing in your ears.
You needed a distraction. You needed to hear a voice that didn't hold a hidden layer of condescension, someone who could anchor you back to reality before your own thoughts completely swallowed you whole. You reached out, grabbed your lifeless phone, and bypassed the wall of muted notifications from Jungkook without letting your eyes linger on them. Instead, you tapped on Mina’s name.
The line rang three times before it clicked open, the background noise instantly flooding your ear with a sharp contrast to your dark room—a hairdryer humming loudly, followed by the frantic clatter of what you could only assume were makeup bottles.
“Hey, stranger,” she said, her tone bright and airy. “I was just thinking about you; it feels like we haven’t talked in forever. What’s up?”
“Not much,” you replied softly, fingers tightening around the edge of your phone. The sudden, desperate urge to have her sitting next to you—to clear the heavy fog in your apartment—pushed you past your usual reluctance to gossip. “I was actually… wondering if you were free tonight? To hang out? Maybe just talk?”
A pause hung over the line, followed by the soft, apologetic drop in her voice that told you the answer before she even spoke.
“Ugh, y/n, I’m so sorry,” she groaned, sounding genuinely crushed. “I can’t tonight. Jin is taking me out to dinner,” You could hear the smile in her voice.
Jin.
You hadn’t spoken to that little weasel since the night you caught him in Yoongi’s warehouse and realized he was the reason Yoongi knew so much about you.
“Oh, by the way, he mentioned that you two talked.”
You froze, your heart hammering against your ribs. “D-did he? Um, about what?”
God, had he told her about Yoongi? He couldn’t have—that would mean exposing his own drug problem and his ties to the raven. Unless he’d kept that out of the equation.
“He said you gave him a long talk about how he’s been acting lately. Said you told him he would lose me if he didn’t get his shit together.”
You exhaled, relief washing over you. Of course. He wasn’t that stupid.
“Y-yeah, I did,” you said. It wasn’t a total lie; you had told Jin he was on the verge of losing her.
“Well, I thank you, bestie. He’s been doing so much better lately. He’s even taking me to Atrium. You know I’ve wanted to go there for months now.”
She wasn't lying. Mina used to talk about Atrium almost daily. It was a fancy, sit-down restaurant in Daegu—the kind of expensive where you paid for the atmosphere as much as the food. It was well beyond what Jin could afford on a realtor's salary, but you knew the dark truth behind his sudden influx of cash. It sickened you to sit on his deception, to keep Mina completely in the dark, but you forced the bitter taste down. As long as she was happy and safe right now, you would keep your mouth shut.
“You know I’ve always got your back.” You frowned at your own words, the lie sitting heavy on your tongue. “Well, have fun tonight. Eat something good for me.”
“I’m gonna make him buy me the whole damn menu to make up to me,” she laughed.
You forced out a hollow chuckle in return, desperate to keep your own misery from bleeding into her perfect night out.
“Okay, love you! Call you tomorrow!”
“Love you too. Bye.”
The call ended with a soft click, and the heavy, suffocating silence of your apartment instantly rushed right back in. You dropped the phone onto your lap and rubbed your hands vigorously over your face. You needed noise. You needed distraction. You absolutely did not need to think about stupid Jungkook tonight. You could just watch a movie and drown out the quiet on your own.
Shuffling out of the bedroom, you made your way into the dark living room and plopped onto the couch. You grabbed the remote from the armrest and flicked on the TV. The screen flared to life, casting a harsh, blue glow across the room as the local news materialized. You raised your hand to change the channel, but your thumb froze over the button as the screen flashed a crimson banner; BREAKING NEWS.
The anchor stared directly into the camera, his expression grim. “We begin tonight with breaking news out of Daegu,” he announced. “Details are still flooding into our newsroom regarding a shocking discovery made just hours ago. Let’s go straight to our reporter on the scene.”
The screen split, cutting to a reporter standing near the edge of Suseongmot Lake. The usual serene night view of the park was completely swallowed by the blinding glare of industrial floodlights and the chaotic pulsing of police strobes. Thick strands of yellow crime scene tape stretched across the boardwalk behind her, whipping softly in the night air.
“We are coming to you live from the Suseong District, where a massive police investigation is currently active late into the night,” the reporter said, her voice taut. “What began as a normal evening here has taken a horrific turn.”
The camera panned slightly toward the dark water, where forensic teams in white hazmat suits crawled along the shoreline.
“According to police, a couple walking along the lakeside boardwalk tonight discovered a body floating near the edge of the water. Emergency crews rushed to the scene, but what they uncovered has deeply shocked investigators. Sources close to the department confirm that the victim's body was severely mutilated—missing the head, as well as both hands and feet, in what appears to be a deliberate attempt to prevent identification. Furthermore, medical examiners on the scene have noted that the body is not a fresh casualty; preliminary decomposition indicates the remains have been in the water since at least yesterday night, despite only being discovered late tonight.”
A violent chill shot straight down your spine. Your breath hitched as you pulled your legs up onto the cushion, hugging your knees tightly against your chest.
The reporter paused briefly, letting the graphic weight of the update sink into the late-night broadcast before continuing. “Because of the extreme condition of the remains, the Daegu Metropolitan Police Department is strictly withholding any details regarding the victim's gender or age. Detectives have already begun a massive sweep of the area, confiscating security footage from every surveillance camera around the park to track how the body was transported to the lake. Authorities are pleading with anyone who was near Suseongmot earlier tonight and noticed anything unusual to contact police immediately. We will remain on the scene as this investigation develops. Back to you in the studio.”
The moment the screen flipped back to the studio, you mashed the button on the remote, desperate to get away from the news. The grim anchor vanished, replaced by the bright, upbeat music of a cooking channel. A chef began cheerfully explaining the steps to a pastry recipe, the bright audio a surreal contrast to what you had just heard.
Even with the comforting background noise filling the room, the warmth didn't reach you. You looked around your darkened apartment, the hairs on the back of your neck standing up as an unsettling sensation crept in—the distinct, irrational feeling of eyes watching you from the shadows.
‘How disturbing…’ you thought, pulling your knees a little closer to your chest.
The cheerful chatter of the cooking show felt entirely useless against the cold dread pooling in your stomach. You didn't want to be alone anymore. The thought of a brutal killer out there turned the familiar shadows of your apartment into a threat.
Your fingers trembled as you picked up your phone. You had explicitly promised yourself you wouldn't see Yoongi again, needing to put distance between yourself and the dangerous pull he had over you. But as you stared at the dark corners of your living room, the terror of the news broadcast overrode your shame. As much as you hated yourself for it, Yoongi was the only one who could make the world feel safe when things turned violent.
Crazy, right?
Swallowing the bitter taste of your own hypocrisy, you scrolled past Jungkook's name, found Yoongi's number, and tapped the screen before you could talk yourself out of it.
The line didn’t even manage to ring twice before the call connected. The speaker instantly filled with the low, steady purr of an engine and the faint, rhythmic click of a turn signal. Yoongi was in transit, likely surrounded by the heavy, silent presence of his guys, handling the kind of business you preferred to pretend didn't exist.
“Babygirl,” he spoke, the distinct smirk evident in his low voice. “To what do I owe the pleasure of you calling me on your movie date with your little boyfriend tonight?”
“I’m not on a movie date with him,” you admitted, the words tasting like defeat. “He canceled on me.”
“Oh yeah?” Through the speaker, his voice dropped an octave, the smirk fading into a low, rumbling hum of genuine curiosity. “How come?”
“Work shit. I really don’t care to talk about it right now.”
“So don’t,” Yoongi murmured, the easy authority in his voice instantly clearing the space for whatever you needed to say. “Talk to me, what’s up?”
You took a shaky breath, your eyes darting back to the flickering light of the cooking channel as if to reassure yourself the news anchor was actually gone. “I… I just turned on the TV,” you stammered, pulling your knees tighter against your chest. “There was a breaking news report. Suseongmot Lake. They found a body. The reporter said it was… it was mutilated. Cut up so horribly no one could identify it. They said it's been sitting out there since yesterday night.”
A heavy, absolute silence fell over Yoongi's side of the line, masked perfectly by the steady hum of his car. “Is that right?” He didn’t even sound phased by the grimness of the report.
"Yeah..." you breathed out, the word catching in your throat as a shuddering breath escaped your lips. “I’m a little… spooked by it. I-I… was wondering if you could come over? Keep me company? Maybe we could watch a movie together instead?”
“Movie nights aren’t my thing, princess,” he countered smoothly, the absolute certainty in his voice cutting through the car's steady road noise.
“According to you, neither is playing games at the Daegu fair, but we did that together,” you reminded him, throwing his own rules back at him to mask your anxiety.
The raven was quiet for a brief moment, the faint click of his turn signal filling the silence before he let out a low sigh. “Fine, alright. Give me… an hour or so. I’ll be there, beautiful.”
You smiled slightly, the heavy dread in your chest lifting just enough for you to breathe. “You got an hour.”
You poured the last of the popcorn into a large glass bowl, tossing a piece into your mouth with a slight smile. Just then, a firm knock sounded at the door behind you. Dumping the empty bag into the trash, you walked over, not even bothering to look through the peephole—you already knew exactly who was on the other side.
When you pulled the door open, Yoongi was standing in the entryway, casually holding a fresh pizza box. Your eyes flicked from the box up to his face, a smirk tugging at your lips.
“Is this what you needed an hour for?” you asked.
Yoongi let out a low, amused huff, stepping past you into the warmth of the apartment without waiting for an invitation. The rich, savory scent of garlic and hot cheese immediately filled the entryway, effortlessly overpowering the artificial butter scent of your popcorn. “What’s a movie night without a pizza?” he murmured, his deep voice carrying that familiar, heavy vibration that always seemed to ground you. He set the pizza box down on the counter with a soft thud, right next to your glass bowl.
He turned around, leaning back against the counter and shoving his hands into the pockets of his black leather jacket. His dark eyes locked onto yours, sharp and calculating as they slowly traced the lines of your face, looking for any lingering traces of the fear that had you trembling on the phone an hour ago.
“So,” he said, the slight tilt of his head matching the lazy, confident pull of his lips. “What movie is on the itinerary?”
“Well…” you started, closing your door and throwing the deadbolt. “I wanted to watch something familiar like Mean Girls, but I figured that wasn’t really your style and you'd just end up falling asleep.”
“You’d be correct,” he cut in smoothly, his tone dry.
“I know. So I looked up some movies I thought you’d actually like, and The Wolf of Wall Street didn’t sound too bad from what I read in the description.” You searched his dark eyes, hunting for even a flicker of approval on the selection.
The raven's smirk widened, an amused light passing through his gaze. “That’s one of my favorite movies,” he said. “I’m glad you kept me in mind.”
“You said you’re not a movie night person, so I at least wanted to play something you’d enjoy,” you reasoned, though the small smile on your lips betrayed how glad you were that you'd gotten it right.
The raven pushed off the counter, slowly closing the distance between you. Before you could step back, his arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you gently but firmly into his space. “I feel special,” he murmured, his deep voice dropping to a low, intimate hum as he looked down at you.
You swallowed the lump in your throat, gently pulling away from his grasp to break the intense proximity. “It’s nothing, just a movie and a good guess, I suppose,” you said softly, your hand instinctively rubbing your arm.
As you stepped back, the sharp, refreshing scent of his citrus cologne washed over you—the exact same smell that had lingered on your skin after your night together. The sensory memory sent a sudden, nervous flutter through your chest. “Let’s start it,” you added quickly, needing the distraction.
Yoongi watched you step away, his arms dropping lazily back to his sides, though his eyes never left your face. He didn't miss the subtle tension in your frame or the way your hand found your arm, but instead of pressing the issue, his smirk simply softened into something more relaxed. He knew exactly what his presence did to you, especially after last night.
“Alright,” he said, his deep voice carrying a trace of lingering amusement. “Let's start it.”
He grabbed the warm pizza box from the counter with one hand, effortlessly balancing it, while you picked up the large glass bowl of popcorn. Walking over to the couch, you grabbed the remote and settled onto your spot, the plush cushions offering a small sense of comfort against the lingering edge of your nerves.
Yoongi didn't hesitate to make himself at home. He shed his leather jacket, tossing it carelessly over the back of the headrest before sinking into the couch right next to you. The couch dipped under his weight, and immediately, that crisp citrus scent filled your space again, warm and entirely too close.
He propped his arm up on the back of the sofa, his fingers inches away from your shoulder as he looked toward the blank TV screen. "Well? Put it on, princess. Let's see if it's as good as I remember."
You picked up the remote, your thumb hovering over the play button. The Netflix interface was already up, the movie paused and waiting for you to hit select. With a quick click, the opening credits of The Wolf of Wall Street began to roll, the lively soundtrack filling the quiet apartment and taking some of the pressure off the silence between you.
Yoongi shifted back against the cushions, reaching over to pop open the pizza box. The rich aroma of melted cheese and garlic hit the air again, making your mouth water. He pulled out a slice, offering it to you first with a silent tilt of his head.
“Here,” he said softly, his eyes fixed on the screen but his attention entirely focused on making sure you actually ate.
“Thanks,” you whispered, taking the hot slice from him. Your fingers brushed lightly against his palm in the handoff, a small spark of static heat leaving your skin tingling. You took a bite, the comfort food instantly helping to soothe the last stubborn knots of anxiety in your stomach.
Yoongi grabbed a slice for himself, leaning his head back against the sofa. For the first twenty minutes, the room was quiet save for the dialogue on screen and the occasional low grunt of agreement from Yoongi during his favorite scenes. But despite the fast-paced movie, you could still feel the heavy, magnetic pull of his presence right beside you, the heat radiating from his shoulder completely throwing off your concentration.
As the movie progressed, your chest tightened slightly as a particularly intense sex scene cut in, the heavy panting and explicit visuals on screen catching you completely off guard. Under the warm glow of the lamps, you felt a sudden, familiar spike of heat pool in your stomach.
This didn’t go unnoticed by the raven. He looked over at you, a smirk playing on his lips.
“Feeling antsy, babygirl?” he asked, his voice a low, teasing hum that barely carried over the sound of the TV. He leaned in just a fraction closer, the sharp scent of his citrus cologne flaring to life again, entirely breaking whatever focus you had left.
“W-what?”
“You heard me,” Yoongi said softly, his smirk widening just a fraction as he caught the tiny stutter. He tilted his head, watching the way your breath hitched under the warm lamplight. “You're shifting around like the couch is on fire. Is something on the screen getting to you?”
He casually reached over to grab another handful of popcorn, his forearm brushing against your knee with a deliberate, lingering slowness. The sudden, brief contact sent another spark right through you, the citrus scent of his cologne enveloping you completely and practically dragging your mind straight back to the memory of his hands on your skin the night before.
“I'm just trying to get comfortable,” you lied, desperately aiming for a defensive tone but only managing a breathless murmur as you forced yourself to look back at the TV.
Yoongi let out a low, gravelly chuckle that vibrated deep in his chest. He didn't move away. Instead, he leaned back into the cushions, his shoulder firmly pressed against yours, letting you feel every bit of his body heat. “Sure you are,” he hummed, his dark eyes still locked on your profile. “But if you keep moving like that, I'm going to start thinking you want me to do something about it.”
“I don't,” you insisted, though the way your voice wavered at the end entirely betrayed you.
Yoongi didn't say another word. Instead, he slowly reached for the remote on the coffee table and pressed pause. The loud, chaotic audio from the movie abruptly cut out, plunging the living room into a sudden, heavy silence that made the sound of your rapid breathing feel incredibly loud.
He turned fully on the cushions, his dark eyes fixed on you with an intense, unblinking focus that made it impossible to look away. The teasing smirk was still playing on his lips, but there was a deeper weight to his gaze now.
“You're a shit liar,” he said, leaning forward just enough that you could feel the warmth of his breath against your cheek. “Your mouth is saying one thing, but I bet your pussy is saying another. So, what are we doing here?”
The blunt shift in his tone sent a sharp, undeniable jolt straight through you. Yoongi's gaze felt incredibly heavy, tracking your every micro-reaction as his words hung in the quiet space between you. You swallowed hard, your throat suddenly dry, entirely overwhelmed by the sheer confidence dripping from him.
“N-Nothing. We’re doing nothing.”
“No?” He raised a brow. “You don’t want a rerun of what this dick feels like? You don’t wanna do what they were doing in the movie?”
You bit the inside of your cheek, practically peeling the skin off with how hard you dug your teeth in. The truth was, you did. You wanted to have sex with Yoongi again. It was foolish trying to deny it, especially with him right here, reminding you exactly of what you were missing.
The raven suddenly grabs your wrist, yanking you on top of his lap in one swift motion. His hands held your hips while yours flew to grip the headrest of the couch. Yoongi slowly begins to grind you against him, the thick, rigid length of his cock pressed directly against your heat through his jeans, leaving no doubt about exactly what he wanted.
“You can keep playing fucking dumb all you want,” he whispered, his grip tightening on your hips as he leaned closer, his breath hot and commanding against your lips. “But you’re already dripping for it, aren’t you? Tell me how bad you want this dick inside you again.”
You bit the inside of your cheek harder, the sharp sting of pain the only thing keeping you from completely falling apart as he set the rhythm.
Yoongi didn't miss the flare of your nostrils or the way your fingers dug desperately into the fabric of the headrest. A dark, satisfied smirk pulled at the corner of his lips, his hands squeezing your hips with bruising force, grounding you completely against his thighs. Every slow, deliberate roll of his hips sent a devastating wave of friction straight to your core, turning your insides to liquid.
“Nothing?” he taunted softly, his voice dropping into that raw, scratchy register that always made your chest tight. He paused the movement for just a second, holding you flush against the hard ridge of his jeans, letting you feel exactly how much control he had over the situation. “Still wanna tell me we're doing nothing?”
He leaned in until his lips were barely brushing yours, teasing you with the ghost of a kiss you were dying to take.
“Look at me,” he commanded, his thumbs digging into your hip bones. “Say it to my face while you're grinding against my dick. Tell me you don't want it.”
You shake your head, refusing to give him the satisfaction of you giving into him again.
Yoongi let out a low, dark chuckle at your defiance, the sound vibrating right against your lips. He liked when you fought it—it only made the inevitable surrender that much sweeter.
"Oh, it’s like that?" he questioned, his grip shifting from your hips to wrap firmly around your waist. Without warning, his hands locked tight and he rolled his hips up in a sudden, hard upward thrust. The brutal, direct friction through the heavy denim hit your sensitive core with devastating accuracy, forcing a sharp, breathless gasp straight out of your throat before you could stop it. Your fingers dug desperately into the headrest, straining for grip just to keep your balance on his thighs.
“Maybe I was a little too gentle with you last time,” he growled, his voice dropping into a dark, rough promise as he held you perfectly still against his hardness. “Maybe you need to know who the boss is.”
Yoongi didn't wait for a response. He locked his fingers brutally tight into your waist, anchoring you down, and drove his hips up again. This time, he didn't stop. He started a hard, relentless rhythm, rolling against you with an unyielding pressure that crushed his rigid length directly into your aching center over and over again.
The heat building between your clothes was immediate and scorching. Every heavy thrust sent a shockwave straight to your core, dragging high, broken whimpers from the back of your throat that you were entirely powerless to choke back. You could barely keep your hands clamped onto the headrest as the raw force of his movements rocked your entire body, sliding you helplessly against the rough denim of his jeans.
“Look at me,” he commanded, the low order vibrating right against your mouth as he kept the brutal pace steady. He leaned up, his teeth nipping viciously at your bottom lip before sealing his mouth over yours, drinking down your breathless gasps as he completely took control.
He pulled back just enough to let you catch a desperate breath, though his mouth stayed close enough to brush your lips with every word. His breath was ragged, his chest heaving hard against yours as his hands tightened on your waist, using his grip to tilt your hips back and align you even deeper against his hardness.
“Tell me you want me to fuck you again.”
The raw command hung heavy in the air, the sheer filthiness of the words making your heart hammer violently.
Yoongi’s eyes didn’t leave yours for a single second. He kept you completely pinned, his cock an agonizing pressure right against your wetness, letting you feel exactly how hard he was for you while denying you the one thing that would bring relief. The friction had left you entirely raw, your body practically screaming for him to start moving again.
You swallowed hard, your lips parting as you stared back at him, the last remnants of your resolve completely fracturing under his intense gaze.
“Say it,” he prompted, his voice dropping into a rough, low rumble that vibrated straight through your core. He nudged his hips forward just a fraction of an inch—a tiny, torturous tease that made you instinctively arch into him. “I wanna hear it.”
“I-I…” you started, finally feeling yourself give into him again. You didn’t know what it was about the raven that kept you coming around and making bad choices, but the fact of the matter was—you didn’t care anymore. “I want you to fuck me again.”
“That’s my good girl.” His tongue flicks your bottom lip, a quick, teasing heat. “Now, get up,” he demands.
You furrow your brows in confusion, but you follow his order nonetheless and climb off of him, your bare legs trembling slightly as your feet hit the floor.
He stands up from the couch, holding his hand out for you to take. You do. His fingers lock firmly around yours, pulling you up the rest of the way and leading you straight toward your bedroom.
You stand at the foot of your bed, completely still as you wait for his next move. The heavy silence of the bedroom is broken only by the sound of your own rapid breathing.
“Strip for me,” he says suddenly.
The command hits you like a physical blow. You freeze, the air caught in your throat. “Huh?”
“Did I stutter? Strip for me,” he repeats, his voice dropping into a harsh, unyielding tone that leaves absolutely no room for argument.
You nod quickly, your heart hammering against your ribs. Panic and excitement twist together in your stomach; you hadn’t been completely naked the last time you two had sex, and the thought of being entirely bare and vulnerable under the raven's intense, critical gaze makes your hands tremble as you reach for the edge of your shirt.
Yoongi doesn't offer a single word of reassurance to ease your nerves. Instead, he just steps back a single pace, crossing his arms over his chest as he stands tall. His dark eyes lock onto you, tracking your every movement.
Your fingers fumble with the hem of your shirt, the fabric suddenly feeling incredibly heavy. With a shaky breath, you pull it up and over your head, letting it drop to the floor. The cool air of the bedroom hits your bare skin, making your goosebumps rise instantly, but the heat from his intense gaze feels hot enough to burn.
“The rest of it,” he commands, his voice low and completely flat, though the slight muscle twitching in his jaw betrays how closely he’s watching you.
You swallow past the lump in your throat, your hands moving down to the elastic waistband of your pajama shorts. Being completely exposed before him feels entirely different this time—raw, vulnerable, and completely under his control. You slide the shorts down your legs along with your underwear, stepping out of the fabric until you are standing entirely bare at the foot of your bed, your chest heaving as you try to brave his inspection.
Yoongi’s eyes slowly travel down your body, taking in every inch of your bare skin with a heavy, unblinking focus that makes your thighs press together instinctively. A slow, dark satisfaction finally breaks across his face.“Turn around,” he says, his hands reaching down to unbuckle his belt.
You nod again, turning your back to him. The sudden loss of visual control makes your heart race even faster, leaving you with nothing but the sharp, metal clanking of Yoongi’s belt buckle echoing in the quiet room. You are dying with anticipation, every muscle in your body tense as you await his next move.
Suddenly, the air behind you shifts. You feel the raven standing directly behind you, his heavy presence looming over your back and his hot breath feathering across your neck. Before you can even process the proximity, his hands move over your head, looping the heavy leather of his belt around your neck like a collar and pulling it just taut enough to make you gasp.
“Y-Yoongi, what’re you doing?” you stammer, your voice trembling as the leather settles firmly against your skin.
The raven doesn’t answer. Instead, his grip on the leather tightens slightly as he guides you around to face him, the makeshift collar looping around your throat with the movement.
Yoongi holds the strap of the belt securely in his hands, wrapping the excess leather around his knuckles as he pulls you flush against him. The rough texture of his clothes rubs directly against your bare chest and stomach, the sudden contact sending a shiver straight down your spine. He looks down at you, his dark eyes filled with an unyielding intensity.
“Something I’d know you’d like,” he murmurs, his voice dropping into a low, heavy rasp that vibrates against your lips. “You trust me, princess?”
You look up into the raven’s dark eyes, searching the intense depth in them before you slowly nod. “Y-yes. I trust you.”
Yoongi smirks, a dark, satisfied expression crossing his features. “Good girl. Now get on your knees for me.”
Your breath hitches at the sheer authority in his tone. Without a second thought, your body moves on instinct, your knees sinking onto the floor right at his feet. Because he keeps his grip tight, the leather belt pulls tight against the back of your neck as you move down, forcing you to keep your chin up and look straight up at him.
Looking up from the floor, you are completely at his mercy, your hands resting tentatively on your own thighs as you brave his downward gaze.
Yoongi stands tall above you, looking down with a dark, unyielding intensity that clearly satisfies him. He gives the strap a faint, testing tug, tilting your face up just a fraction more.
“Look at you,” he rasps, his voice thick with a sudden, heavy heat. “So desperate to please me.”
He brings his thumb down to your mouth, his rough skin brushing over your lower lip. “Open.”
You follow his order, much like you had been doing all night, your lips parting without hesitation. Yoongi pushes his thumb deep into your mouth, and like an instinct, your lips seal around it as you suck on his thumb. A dark, low groan escapes the back of his throat at the immediate sensation, his fingers tightening on the leather strap as he watches your mouth work around him.
His eyes darken completely, tracking the rhythm of your mouth as you wrap your tongue around his thumb. The wet, rhythmic heat of it clearly drives him over the edge. With a sharp exhale, he slowly drags his wet thumb past your lips, leaving them slick and slightly parted.
“Good girl,” he murmurs, his voice rough and uneven.
Before you can even catch your breath, his free hand returns to his unzipped jeans. He pushes them down just far enough, freeing his cock right in front of your face. It's fully erect, heavy and pulsing with his anticipation, the head glistening with precum.
Yoongi doesn't force himself in. Instead, he uses the leather strap of the belt to gently guide your head forward, holding you steady as he brushes the warm, smooth tip of his cock against your wet bottom lip. The contrast of the heavy leather at your neck and his burning skin against your lips makes your heart hammer frantically.
“Now take it, princess,” he commands, his gaze locking hard onto yours. "Show me how bad you want me to fuck you."
You open your mouth wider, leaning into his touch as you take the broad head of his cock past your lips. The sudden fullness fills your mouth instantly, the intense heat of him consuming your senses. You wrap your lips tightly around his cock, your hands gripping your own thighs as you slowly take him deeper, trying to adjust to his size.
A heavy, guttural groan rips from the back of Yoongi’s throat. His hips twitch forward slightly on instinct, but he catches himself, his knuckles turning white as he tightens his grip on the leather strap of the belt to keep your head perfectly steady.
“F-fuck, princess,” he pants, his head tilting back for a fraction of a second as your warm, wet mouth works around him.
He looks back down at you, his eyes completely blown out and dark with lust. His free hand slides around to the back of your head, his palm anchoring you firmly in place alongside the tension of the belt.
“Just like that,” he rasps, his breathing heavy and ragged as he begins to slowly dictate the pace, nudging his hips forward to push a little deeper into your throat. “Take it all for me.”
You try your best not to gag, swallowing hard against the thick fullness of him. It had been a while since you’d given anyone head, and your throat is definitely out of practice. You may have been a virgin intercourse-wise, but certainly not mouth-wise—you had to keep your ex-boyfriends around somehow.
He slowly begins to move his hips, a steady, agonizingly slow friction that drags the smooth length of his cock against your tongue and lips. Every slide forward fills your mouth completely, testing the limits of your jaw, but you hold your ground, determined to prove your skill despite the break you've had.
“Yeah, you know exactly what you’re doing, don’t you?” Yoongi rasps, a tight, breathless smirk cutting through his expression. He watches the focused, submissive look on your face, his dark eyes ablaze with absolute possessiveness. “I thought my babygirl was a virgin through-and-through, but it’s obvious you’ve sucked dick before.”
The sudden callout makes your eyes widen around his length, a flush of heat creeping up your neck that has nothing to do with the friction in your mouth. You try to look up at him through your lashes, but the firm pressure of his palm against the back of your head keeps you pinned right where he wants you.
Yoongi lets out a dark, low chuckle at your reaction, the sound vibrating deeply against your lips. He doesn’t sound angry—if anything, the discovery only seems to fuel his dominance, turning him even more ruthless.
“Don’t stop,” he growls softly, his fingers tightening on the leather strap of the belt as his hips deliver a sharp, demanding roll into your mouth. “Tell me who taught you how to use that mouth so well while you take every single inch of me.”
You pull back just enough to let his cock slip past your lips, the leather strap of the belt keeping your chin tilted up as you look up at him. Your chest heaves, a thin silver strand of saliva bridging the small gap between your mouth and the glistening head of his cock.
“My ex-boyfriends,” you admit breathlessly, your voice small but honest under his heavy gaze.
Yoongi’s eyes narrow, his jaw clenching instantly. The mention of other guys having your mouth like this clearly strikes a chord, but his mind immediately jumps to the one person he’s been fully aware of this entire time.
He looks down at you, his fingers tightening on the leather strap of the belt to pull you a fraction closer. With his free hand, he reaches up and hooks his fingers through his hair, pushing the strands back from his face as a dark, dangerous look settles over his features.
“Your exes,” Yoongi repeats, his voice dropping into a low, gravelly register. He leans forward, looming over you with an overwhelming intensity. “What about Jungkook?”
You swallow hard, your heart hammering against your ribs. “I… I never gave Jungkook head,” you whisper, the honesty spilling out of you before you can stop it.
A slow, deeply satisfied smirk cuts through Yoongi’s expression at your confession, the raw jealousy instantly morphing into pure, dominant victory.
“Never?” he rasps, a dark, low chuckle vibrating in his chest as his palm presses firmly against the back of your head. He guides you forward, the warm, glistening tip of his cock pressing right against your lips. “Good. Keep it that way.”
His hips roll forward, burying himself deep inside your throat once again.
The sudden, deeper penetration catches you completely off guard. Your eyes water instantly, tears spilling over your lashes and wetting your cheeks as your throat clamps down around his thick length. You try your best to control the reflex, your fingers digging tightly into your own thighs as you take the full depth of his thrust.
Yoongi lets out a heavy, ragged groan, the feeling of your tight throat squeezing his cock clearly driving him crazy. He keeps his palm firmly anchored against the back of your head, maintaining a ruthless, unyielding pressure that matches the tight pull of the belt at your neck.
Through his hair falling forward around his face, his dark eyes lock onto yours, watching the raw, tearful submission on your face with absolute satisfaction.
“Yeah, take it,” he growls softly, his breathing growing louder and more uneven as he begins to establish a steady, punishing rhythm. His hips snap forward, pulling back just far enough to catch his breath before burying himself right back into your mouth. “Good girl. Take every single inch of it.”
The wet, frantic sounds of your mouth working around him fill the quiet room, completely erasing any thought of your exes or Jungkook. In this moment, under the heavy weight of his gaze and the tight grip of the leather belt, Yoongi is the only thing that exists.
He pulls back nearly to the tip, letting you catch a single, ragged breath before plunging straight back in, harder this time. A soft, muffled whine is dragged from your chest, the sound completely swallowed by his length as he bottoms out against your throat.
Yoongi’s chest heaves, his pale skin slick with a light sheen of sweat under the dim room lighting. He tilts his head back for a brief second, his jaw tightly clenched and the veins in his neck straining as he rides the intense wave of pleasure you’re giving him. His hair swings forward again as he looks back down, his expression completely consumed by unadulterated lust.
“Your mouth feels so good,” he pants, his voice dropping into a desperate, fractured whisper. “F-fuck, baby, you’re ruining me.”
The rhythm shifts from controlled to urgent. His hips snap forward in quicker, heavier successions, the unyielding palm at the back of your head keeping you perfectly pinned to his pace. You can feel the heat building inside him, the heavy pulse of his cock thickening even further against your tongue as he edges closer to the brink.
He loosens his grip on the leather strap just enough to slide his free hand under your chin, forcing your face up so he can look directly into your tear-filled eyes.
“Don’t close your eyes,” he commands, his breathing entirely ragged now, his hips stuttering as he delivers a few final, shallow thrusts deep into your mouth. “Look at me. I wanna see you looking at me when I cum.”
You keep your eyes locked on his, your vision blurry from the tears streaming down your face, but you don’t dare blink. Under the intense, burning weight of his gaze, your heart hammers frantically against your ribs as you swallow down the urge to pull away.
Yoongi lets out a shattered, guttural groan from the back of his throat. His entire body tenses, the muscles in his arms locking as he maintains his unyielding grip—his fingers still tightened on the leather strap of the belt while his other hand holds your chin firmly, keeping your face tilted up to his. His hair falls forward, framing his face as his expression contorts with raw pleasure.
With one final, heavy roll of his hips, he buries his cock as deep as it can go into your throat and freezes.
“F-fuck—”
His voice cracks on the syllable as his cock pulses violently inside your mouth. You feel the sudden, intense heat of his climax hitting the back of your throat, a thick, heavy rush that fills your mouth completely. Your hands grip your thighs so hard your nails dig through the skin, your body trembling from the sheer intensity of keeping still while he releases everything inside your mouth.
Yoongi holds you perfectly pinned, his chest heaving violently as he rides out the waves of his release, his dark eyes completely blown out as he watches you take every single drop.
He slowly begins to pull back, his breathing ragged and uneven as his cock slides past your lips with a pop. Your jaw aches from the stretch, and a small gasp escapes you as you finally catch your breath, your chest heaving violently. A thick drop of his cum spills over your bottom lip, tracing a slow line down your chin.
Slowly, his breathing begins to even out, but the dark, possessive haze in his eyes doesn’t fade. If anything, looking down at your tear-stained face only seems to light a different kind of fire in him. He lets out a low, rough exhale, his thumb stroking along your jawline as his grip on the belt tightens again.
“Get in the bed on your hands and knees,” Yoongi commands, his voice dropping into a gravelly, unyielding register. “I’m not even close to finished with you.”
He lets go of the belt, allowing you to scramble to the bed. You shift to the very edge of the mattress, dropping your knees to the soft fabric while your hands grip whatever they could of the bed for support. The position leaves you completely exposed, your back arched as you wait for him.
Yoongi stands tall behind you, looming over the bed like a dark shadow. He doesn't waste a second. He steps into the narrow space between your thighs, his thighs pressing flush against the back of yours as he locks you into place.
One of his hands comes down heavily onto your hips, his fingers digging into your skin with an unyielding grip to pull your body firmly back against him. With his other hand, Yoongi reaches up your spine, his knuckles brushing against your shoulder blades as he finds the leather strap still looped around your neck.
He wraps his fingers tightly around the leather, his grip instantly tightening to pull your chin up. The sudden tension forces your back to arch even deeper, your fingers digging tightly into the mattress as you try to keep your balance.
Standing behind you, Yoongi lets out a low, ragged exhale, the friction of his cock rubbing between your wet folds as he uses the belt to control your posture completely.
“Look straight ahead,” he commands softly, “And hold on tight to the bed, princess.”
He doesn’t wait another second. Holding you perfectly secure with his grip on your hip and the leather strap, Yoongi aligns his cock with your entrance, then drives his hips forward, burying himself deep inside you in one smooth, heavy thrust.
A sharp, breathless scream is ripped from your throat, your back arching even tighter as your body tries to adjust to the sudden, stretching fullness of him. He is entirely bottoming out against you with a force that makes the bed creak beneath your hands.
Standing tall behind you, Yoongi lets out a low groan, his shoulders squaring as his chest heaves. He pauses for just a heartbeat, letting you feel the thick, heavy pulse of him stretching you open from the inside before he begins to move.
He pulls back nearly all the way, only to plunge straight back in, setting a punishing pace. Every heavy thrust of his hips snaps against you, the steady friction building a white-hot heat between your thighs.
"F-fuck," he pants, his voice ruined and breathless from above you as his grip tightens on the belt, pulling back just enough to keep your head tilted high. "You feel so good, princess."
Yoongi doesn’t ease up, he maintains that rhythm, each heavy plunge driving him deep into your cunt. The sheer density of his erection is unyielding, a thick, searing weight that fills you completely and leaves you utterly breathless.
His grip on your hip is hot where his fingers press into your skin, anchoring you against the momentum of his hips. With his other hand, he keeps the leather strap of the belt taut, the firm upward tension ensuring your back stays deeply arched and your face remains tilted high. Every time he bottoms out, the sharp impact shuddering through your frame forces another fractured gasp from your lips.
“O-oh fuck… Yoongi!” You cry out.
The sound of his heavy, rhythmic thrusts echoes loudly in the quiet room, mixed with the low, gravelly friction of his breath from right behind you. He watches the movement of his own body entering yours, his dark eyes fixed on the view with an intense, unblinking focus.
"Don't lose your grip," he commands, his voice dropping into a rough, dominant growl as he picks up the pace, his thrusts becoming faster, harder, and entirely relentless. "Stay right there for me, princess."
You nod your head, trying to keep your arms steady.
From behind, one of his hands anchors tightly to your hip while the other maintains a firm hold on the belt. He leans down, his voice rough against your ear. “That’s my girl. You like when I fuck you, don’t you?”
The heavy, rhythmic friction of his body against yours fills the space, entirely consuming your senses as he continues to drive into you. The bite of his fingers on your hip keeps you completely pinned, leaving no room for you to pull away even if you wanted to.
Your chest heaves, breaths coming in shallow, ragged hitches while you fight to keep your weight supported, every muscle in your arms trembling under the strain.
He lets out a low, gravelly grunt of approval, the sharp snap of the belt tight against your skin as he drives forward again, deeper and more punishingly than before. "Answer me," he commands, his hot breath brushing the back of your neck.
"I wanna hear it," he growls, his voice vibrating through you as he maintains the relentless pace. He shifts slightly, the hand on your hip digging in deeper to ensure you don't falter, while the belt remains taut, a constant, heavy reminder of his control.
You choke out a breathless sound, your head falling back as the intensity of his movements leaves you reeling. Every time he drives into you, the friction makes it harder to stay upright, your arms shaking violently as you struggle to hold your position against his force.
“Y-yes! I like when you fuck me!”
He lets out a dark, satisfied chuckle, sensing your struggle and relishing the lack of fight left in you. "That's it," he murmurs, his tone dropping even lower, thick with possessive intent. “I wanna hear you admit every single bit of it. That you don’t want this to end, that you don’t want me to stop.”
You had a feeling that he wasn’t just talking about sex anymore.
“I-I don’t want this to end, I don’t want you to stop!”
The smiles, the words sounding like music to his ears. “I could give you the fucking world, baby.” His movements pause for a split second, a heavy, deliberate stillness that makes your heart hammer against your ribs, before he crashes back into you with twice the force. The shift in his demeanor is sharp—the playful, rough edge replaced by something possessive and consuming.
"The world," he repeats, his voice a low, gravelly vibration that seems to rattle your very bones. He pulls the belt, forcing your hips to stay locked into his rhythm, his knuckles pressing firmly against your lower back. "You have no idea what I’m capable of giving you, or what I’m going to expect in return."
He leans down, pressing his face into the space between your neck and shoulder, his stubble grazing your skin. The heat radiating off him is suffocating, turning the air in the shop heavy and thick.
"You’re mine, princess," he murmurs, his pace accelerating again, his thrusts driving deep enough to leave you breathless and shaking. "And if you’re as good as I know you are, maybe you’ll be mine for a lot longer."
The intensity of his words sinks into you, heavier than the physical weight of his body. The implication lingers in the air, shifting the dynamic from a fleeting, heated moment into something far more demanding.
He senses your hesitation, the way your breath hitches at his ultimatum, and he punctuates his point by pinning your hip down with such force it leaves you breathless. His hand on the belt gives a sharp, grounding tug, pulling you deeper into him, forcing you to meet his rhythm head-on.
"Don't go quiet on me now," he growls, his voice a low, jagged demand. He drags his teeth lightly against the sensitive skin of your shoulder, his grip tightening as he pushes you to the edge. "You’ve already said the words, and there’s no taking them back. You belong to me now, and you’re going to prove it."
The air in the room is thick, heavy with the scent of your combined heat. You’re completely surrendered to the pace he’s setting, your senses frayed, your body reacting to every demand before he even has to voice it.
He senses the way you’ve stopped fighting, the way your resistance has dissolved into pure, desperate need, and he lets out a low, guttural growl of satisfaction. He shifts his grip, his thumb pressing hard against your hipbone while his other hand keeps the belt pulled, anchoring you in place as he finds a new, punishing rhythm.
"That's it, princess," he murmurs, his voice a jagged rasp against the shell of your ear, his breath hot and uneven. He drives into you again, harder this time, his movements possessive and absolute. There is no space left for your own thoughts, only the overwhelming weight of him and the sharp, grounding reality of his control. Every instinct you have is centered on the friction, on the way his body dominates yours, and on the terrifying, thrilling weight of his promise that this is only the beginning.
“Y-Yoongi, I’m almost there–” you manage to moan out.
"Give it to me, baby. All of it."
With one final, punishing thrust, you shatter, your entire body arching as the world narrows down to nothing but the sound of your cries and his heavy, satisfied growl against your skin.
He collapses forward, his weight pressing you down into the mattress as he lets out a series of ragged, uneven breaths against your shoulder. The force of his hold on your hip doesn't slacken immediately, his fingers remaining locked into your skin as if he’s still branding you, and his other hand still has the belt coiled tight, tethering you to him even as the momentum dies away.
The room is silent except for the harsh, synchronized sound of your breathing. He stays there for a long moment, his chest heaving against your back, his presence feeling heavier and more suffocating than before. Slowly, he shifts, his hand sliding from your hip to snake around your waist, pulling you back against his front until there is no space left between you.
"Still mine?" he murmurs, his voice barely audible, raw and stripped of its earlier dominance, replaced by something sharper and possessive. "You don't get to walk away from that, princess. You don't get to walk away from me."
“Yoongi… it’s not that simple.” You say softly, Jungkook still heavy on your heart. Even after all this, you still couldn’t get over him.
“Figure out how to make it simple, y/n. You said you didn’t want this to end, so it won’t. But I’m not keen on sharing for too long. Keep that in mind.”
summary: rough sex, blood money, drugs, gang related activity, and murder; five things you never predicted to experience in your simple life. not until you opened your mouth and caught his attention.
warnings: smut, gunplay, drugs, drug addiction, dark!yoongi, drug lord!yoongi, strong language, gang violence, blood and gore, murder, manipulation, possessive/obsessive behavior, abuse, cheating, angst, fluff, dubcon, implied noncon (not from yoongi but within his gang with his knowledge), 18+, minors dni.
pairings: gang leader!yoongi x f.reader.
word count: 13.6k.
chapter playlist: knocking on heaven’s door - bob dylan
masterlist directory
You stared back at the brunet, unable to form words. Two days of absolute silence, and here he was so suddenly. You didn't know whether to be angry or relieved at his presence. "I, uh, went to Makoto, but your boss said you never came in for your shift or called," he said, rubbing the back of his neck. "Thought I'd come make sure you were okay."
“A call would have sufficed, if you actually cared,” you stated flatly. You decided both emotions were valid. You were undeniably happy to see Jungkook, but the sight of him only magnified your anger. It shouldn't have taken him two days to finally reach out.
"I thought it was better to give you space after what happened. I know how you are, y/n."
You let out a short scoff. "How I am?" you questioned, furrowing your eyebrows, your voice slightly rising. “Go ahead and enlighten me on how I am, Jungkook.”
Jungkook sighed, his lip ring clanking against his teeth as he pulled his bottom lip inward. “Can we talk inside? I really don’t wanna do this in your hallway.” He pleaded. Jungkook was never truly the confrontational type, which contradicted you because you in fact were the confrontational type.
You huffed, brushing past him to unlock your apartment door. Once both of you were inside, you shut the door firmly. Jungkook immediately walked to your couch and sat down, patting the cushion beside him as an invitation for you to sit. You hesitated for a brief moment before giving in, placing your plushy and purse on the table.
You sat beside him, hands clasped tightly in your lap, avoiding eye contact. The tension in the silence was thick. “So... why weren't you at work today? It's not like you to miss a shift.” he finally started. You fiddled with your fingers, scrambling for an excuse for your absence. “I….umm… went to the Daegu fair,” you admitted, only fabricating the truth just a tad. "With Mina."
Jungkook tilted his head, a frown forming his lips. "You did a no-call, no-show to go to the Daegu fair? What were you thinking?" he asked, ready to lecture you. You certainly weren't in the mood to hear it, especially from him. Not now. It felt like he was deliberately trying to pivot away from the real issue at hand; your relationship and his cold, dead silence.
"I was thinking I wanted to have some fun, and not sit at work wondering why the man I care about ghosted me for two days." you snapped. This brought the brunet down a notch, making him exhale heavily. The room fell silent once again, but not for very long. "Look, I'm sorry," Jungkook said. "It's just... we've been best friends since we were kids and–"
“And you still only see me as that." You cut him off.
"No," he countered sternly. "What we have is special because of our history. We got to be best friends before having a romantic connection, which is rare. You're not like any girl I've dated. You’re much more to me. I don't want to mess this up. I don't wanna lose you. I can't. The thought terrifies me because I’m losing more than my girl, I’m losing my best friend too,"
Your eyes finally connected with his, your demeanor softening at his words. "I want our first time to be special," he continued. "I don't want it to be random sex like I’m used to. I want your first experience to be your best experience.”
You sighed, nodding your head. "You're right. It should be special..." you replied. You understood Jungkook's view; it was sweet, and it showed just how much he truly valued you. You appreciated his sentiment, but you were still frustrated. Sexually frustrated. You were ready for more. It was easy for Jungkook to sideline sex when he’d been having it since high school. Meanwhile, you, the innocent virgin, had spent all this time waiting for your first crush to choose you. Now that he finally has, the reward feels slightly lackluster.
"I'm sorry," you finally said. You weren't entirely sure if you meant it, but for now, you just wanted to put the drama behind you. Jungkook smiled, taking your hands in his, and you gladly let him. "I missed you," he said. "It doesn't feel right not talking to you every day."
You returned a genuine smile. "The feeling is mutual. But if you ever ghost me again, prepare for me to come to the tattoo shop with a vengeance." You playfully squinted your eyes at him.
Jungkook chuckled, nodding his head. "I wouldn't expect anything less." He says. After a moment of silence the brunet’s eyes flicked behind you, catching sight of the new plush toy sitting on top of the table. “Nice plushie,” he smirked, knowing all too well how much you loved anything Hello Kitty related. “Guess you and Mina had a good time at the fair, huh?”
You followed his gaze to the plushie. “Yeah… surprisingly, I did.” You chewed on your bottom lip, your mind suddenly miles away, fixed on the raven.
"Well, well, well. Look who decided to show up today after ditching without a call," Jimin said, a smirk plastered on his face as he stepped out of the kitchen with two glasses of water. "The old man's gonna have a field day." He was joking, but there was truth to it.
You sighed, biting the inside of your cheek. You knew a lecture was coming, along with an endless amount of dish and bathroom duty. Possibly even termination. Mr. Kim hated when staff called in, but he especially loathed it when they didn’t.
"I’m nervous as it is," you said. "Did Mr. Kim say anything to you about me?"
"To me? No," Jimin replied, setting the glasses down at the table he was waiting on. "But you know how he is about punctuality. No exceptions."
You rubbed the nape of your neck and slowly shuffled toward the back of the kitchen to meet your doom.
“Good luck!” Jimin teased.
God, what would you do if you lost your job at Makoto? The job market was brutal right now, and finding new employment wouldn’t be easy. You were terrified of the domino effect that would follow.
Mr. Kim noticed you immediately upon entering the kitchen, but to your surprise, he only nodded in your direction. "Good evening, y/n. Glad to see you came in today," he said calmly before dusting his hands on his apron. “Hurry up and clock in, Jimin could use some assistance out there.”
Your eyebrows scrunched. ‘That’s it? No yelling? No speech? What's his angle?’ you wondered hesitantly.
“O-oh, uh… of course…” you stammered. You grabbed your time card and swiped it through the clock. You glanced back at Mr. Kim, who handled the orders just as he did on any other day. But today shouldn’t have been like ‘any other day’. It should have been a day of reckoning for ditching work yesterday, yet Mr. Kim didn’t even seem to care. You decided that you would just rip the bandage off and bring it up yourself.
"Hey, Mr. Kim, about not calling in yesterday…" you started, but the old man instantly cut you off.
"Don't worry about it, kid! It happens." He said, quickly dismissing the conversation.
You stood stunned. This was certainly unlike your boss. Mr. Kim could be kind when he wanted to be, but when it came to work, he was a stickler for the rules. As Jimin had said, there were no exceptions.
You wondered what could have made him so nonchalant about a no-call, no-show, until suddenly, Yoongi's voice flashed through your mind.
"Don't stress about that, princess. I'II deal with your boss after the fact."
Could it be that Yoongi had actually followed through? It was the only explanation for Mr. Kim's uncharacteristic behavior. Even though the raven had said he’d handle it, you hadn’t honestly believed him. You didn’t think Yoongi could actually hold that kind of power over someone as headstrong as Mr. Kim. It left you wondering what else, exactly, that man could control.
Nevertheless, you smiled slightly to yourself, knowing he had used that power to keep your job intact. You grabbed an apron from the hook, along with a notepad and pen, preparing to head out to the floor. Just then, Jimin walked in, his expression uneasy. “What’s your problem?” You ask him, an eyebrow perched.
"T-table three wants you to take their order instead of me," the brunet said.
You didn't even need to question why; his unease told you exactly who was sitting at table three. You nodded, tying your apron around your waist. Jimin exchanged a look with Mr. Kim behind you before you headed out to the dining floor. To your lack of surprise, there sat Yoongi and Joon across from each other. You poked the inside of your cheek with your tongue, a small smile trying to peek through.
"There's my favorite waitress," the raven smiled as you approached. His left arm rested casually on the back of his chair.
You squinted at him, folding your arms across your chest. "Looks like someone’s too anxious to wait until tonight," you stated.
Yoongi shrugged. “What can I say? You make me feel like I’ve got a school crush. I want to see you whenever I can.” He smirked, biting down on his bottom lip.
You rolled your eyes, but inside, butterflies were already beginning to flutter. “Are you two here to order, or are you just here to cause trouble?” you asked, quickly changing the subject. You didn’t want to look like you actually enjoyed Yoongi’s presence, not with Jimin lurking nearby. He had a big mouth, and before you knew it, Jungkook and Mina would find out that there was something unspoken forming between you and Yoongi.
“I don’t know about the boss man here, but I could go for some Jjajangmyeon and a cool bottle of soju. Don’t bring me any of that warm shit,” Joon said.
You eyed the lanky man. “We don’t serve alcohol here,” you stated dryly.
“Well, that’s a fucking buzzkill. What do y’all serve here?”
“You can try looking at the menu in front of you.” You snarked. You couldn’t help the smart remarks when it came to Joon. He simply rubbed you the wrong way, Yoongi’s right-hand man or not. You didn’t like him.
Joon smirked, your snarkiness having no bearing on him. “Someone’s testy today. This isn’t very good customer service,” he joked, though he picked up the menu nonetheless. He scanned through the drink section before closing it. “I’ll take a cola,” he said.
You wrote down his order, then turned to Yoongi, who seemingly hadn’t taken his eyes off you the entire time. “And you?”you questioned the raven.
“I’ll take some water, sweetheart.” The raven said.
You nodded, not needing to write it down. As you collected their menus from the table, you hesitated. “Hey, um…” you started, keeping your voice low. “Thanks for actually talking to my boss. You seriously saved me from getting fired.”
Yoongi tilted his head slightly. “You said ‘actually’ as though you had no faith in my word. You didn’t think I’d talk to your boss?” he questioned.
“You want me to be honest?”
“That’s all I ever want you to be with me, sweetheart.”
“Okay then,” you nodded, keeping your voice hushed so you wouldn't be overheard. “No. I didn’t think you’d talk to my boss. I thought it was just a little lie you told to get me to come with you yesterday.”
The raven smirked at your doubt. “One thing you need to learn about me, princess, is that my word is bond. When I say I’m gonna do something, I do it.” He held his smirk, but there was something beneath it now, something entirely serious. Dangerous, even.
And you liked it. Shamefully.
"Noted," you said, your gaze locked with his dark, intense eyes. Before the moment could stretch any further, the bell above the front door chimed, snapping you back to reality. "'I’ll be right with you-" The customer service voice died in your throat. You froze as you turned around, coming face to face with a familiar brunet.
"J-Jungkook?" You stuttered. “What’re you doing here?”
Jungkook's smile vanished as he looked past you, spotting Yoongi sitting there. He squinted, a hard edge replacing his previously soft expression. "I'm on my break... thought I'd come in to see you." His eyes remained glued to the raven. "What the hell is he doing here?"
You looked back at Yoongi, his eyes dark and intimidating as they always were, his glare on Jungkook vicious. "They're, uh... ordering food," you said. You could feel people in the restaurant starting to stare, Jimin included.
"I think they need to order food somewhere else," Jungkook spat, his gaze hardening on Yoongi.
"Is that right?" The raven finally spoke, his voice dangerously monotone.
"You trying to start somethin', chief?" Joon chimed in, shifting in his seat, fully prepared to back Yoongi. “Because we don’t have a problem sending you out on a stretcher.”
You shivered at those words. Knowing there was no way this situation would end well for Jungkook, you quickly stepped in. Grabbing the bushy haired man by the arm, you pushed him away from their table and steered him toward an empty one across the restaurant."Are you trying to get yourself jumped?" you asked, keeping your voice low as you questioned the brunet.
Jungkook scoffed. "I'm not scared of those pussies like everyone else. Especially when it comes to you." He finally pulled his gaze away from their table and onto you. "You okay? Is he still harassing you?" he asked.
You sighed. You understood Jungkook's frustration with seeing Yoongi. After everything you had told him about your first encounter with the raven, plus his murdered friend having some type of connection to him, you could imagine why he was so bold.
"They're really just here to eat, and no matter how much disdain I have for someone, I still have to act on a professional level while at work. I don't think fighting helps my case."
The brunet ran his fingers through his hair, sighing deeply. "You're right. I'm sorry," he apologized, his hand reaching out to gently rub your arm.
"Don't worry about it, okay? Just sit down and order something. You came here for me, right?" You smiled, hoping that would bring his mood back up. The brunet grinned back, unable to stay angry when you were in his presence. "Right," he agreed, taking a seat at the table you had escorted him to."My focus is on you, beautiful." He placed a hand on your hip.
You could feel the cold stare burning into your back, the raven glaring daggers in your direction.You didn't bother to look back as you kept your attention on Jungkook.
"Hey, waitress," Yoongi's voice suddenly chimed behind you. You turned around. "Is this how your boss runs his establishment? How about instead of fucking around with your little boyfriend, you get us our orders?" There was venom in his voice when he spat the word “boyfriend”. Of course, no one could spot it except you– and maybe Joon. You scowled at the raven for calling you out so loudly.
"Hey," Jimin whispered, quickly walking up to Jungkook's table. He nudged your shoulder. "You take care of their orders, and I'll take Jungkook's. I don't wanna know what those guys will do if they have to wait any longer."
You complied, not wanting to take that chance and find out either. Leaving Jimin to handle Jungkook, you headed back into the kitchen and ripped the order from your notepad to hook it onto the ticket line. "The hell is going on out there?" Mr. Kim asked, frowning.
"Nothing anymore. Jimin and I have it under control," you assured him as you grabbed two cups from the dish shelf. Moving toward the beverage station, you filled both cups with ice before pouring their respective drinks. You marched back out to the dining room and set the cups down on Yoongi's table. "Satisfied?" you asked the raven.
"Not nearly," he grimaced. "What would satisfy me right now would leave you devastated, sweetheart." His voice was calm, but his words were dark. You chose not to push, truly not wanting to know what he meant by that. "Your food should be out shortly," you said to Joon, deliberately avoiding the raven’s eyes.
You turned around, leaving Yoongi and Joon alone at their table. Spotting Jungkook waving you over, you walked up to the grinning brunet with a playful sigh. “Yes, trouble?” you asked. He rolled his eyes at the newfound nickname. “I was thinking… How about a movie night tonight? I think we’re overdue for one.” he suggested. You raised an eyebrow, crossing your arms over your chest. “You mean a repeat of last time? Because unless my memory is failing me, that was an absolute disaster.”
"Yeah, well, this time will be different. After our talk last night, I'm hoping we both have a better understanding of our feelings," he said, taking your hand in his. You tilted your head, biting the inside of your cheek. Even if you did want to give in to his movie night plan, you couldn't. You already had plans with a certain black haired man tonight.
"You know, I'd love to, but I already made plans with Mina tonight,” you lied, offering a convincing smile. "She wants us to have a whole girls' night in. Makeup, nails, talking about our relationships. The whole works."
Jungkook pouted. "First the fair, now a girls' night? I'm beginning to think Mina is stealing my girl." He joked.
You giggled, rolling your eyes at the brunet. "Don't be so dramatic," you said. "We always have tomorrow night."
“Fine,” Jungkook relented, tossing a look of fake defeat your way. “I didn't wanna watch your cheesy movies tonight anyway.”
You gasped, slapping a hand over your heart as if deeply offended. “You love my cheesy movies.”
"No, I love you. There's a difference," Jungkook said.
The words hung heavily in the air between you, and you instantly froze. The words echoed in your mind, catching you entirely off guard. Jungkook had never confessed his feelings so plainly before. You had a lifetime of history together as best friends, but hearing him say those words out loud changed everything in an instant. You stared at him, speechless. Realizing exactly what he had just admitted, Jungkook's eyes widened, and a dark blush rapidly overtook his face.
"S-so tomorrow night?" he stammered, his voice cracking slightly as he scratched the nape of his neck in pure embarrassment.
"Uh-yeah... yeah... see you tomorrow night," you stuttered, your voice trailing off.
You had absolutely no idea how to respond, and your only saving grace was a nearby customer waving you over to request their bill. Seizing the lifeline, you quickly retreated to their table and left Jungkook alone with his thoughts. The moment your back was turned, the brunet squeezed his eyes shut, burying his face in his hands as he cussed quietly to himself.
You grabbed the customer's card from the table and turned to go swipe it at the kiosk, but before you could move any further, you noticed Yoongi and Joon preparing to leave. You furrowed your brows; Joon's food hadn't even been served yet. "Um... hello? Did you forget you ordered food?" you questioned the lanky man as they walked past you.
Yoongi didn't say a word, his expression unreadable as he moved toward the exit.
"I think I'll pass on the ramen, Wonder Woman. The atmosphere in this joint kinda makes me sick," Joon said.
You poked the inside of your cheek with your tongue as you watched them head for the door, but they didn't leave without throwing one last vicious glare at Jungkook. Jungkook, of course, glared right back.
"See ya around, chief," Joon scowled in his direction before they finally walked out into the street.
You hadn’t received a single text from Yoongi by the time your shift ended. You had been entirely certain the raven would be eagerly waiting the exact second you clocked out, but an hour had already passed since you’d been off. Trying to shake the growing unease, you showered and slipped into a cute little floral dress. It was a stark contrast to the workout outfit you had worn to that first so called “kickback”.
You sighed, staring down at your blank phone screen. Still, there was no call, no text. What was his issue? One minute he’s telling you how he wants to see you whenever he can, and now he was acting like he couldn't care less about the plans he had made. He couldn't possibly be upset about Jungkook, could he? How childish if he was.
A soft knock suddenly sounded at your front door.
‘Finally,’ you thought, a wave of relief washing over you. ‘Took him long enough.’
You walked into the living room and peeked through the peephole. You were fully expecting to see a familiar mess of long, dark hair, but instead, your neighbor, Hoseok, stood on the other side. You hadn't seen much of him since you found out about his history with Yoongi. Pushing down your surprise, you opened the door and greeted him. "Hoseok, hey," you smiled.
Hoseok returned the small smile, but his expression remained entirely serious. "Hey, y/n. Do you mind if I come in?" He asks. You hesitated for a moment, glancing back toward your bedroom where your phone sat in total silence, almost as if Yoongi might choose this exact second to call you."It won't take too long," Hoseok assured you, his voice gentle but firm, as if he had read your mind completely.
You nodded, opening the door wider for him to enter your apartment before closing it behind him. Hoseok stood there in the entryway, his hands shoved deep into his pockets. You had never seen him look so serious; it was actually a little scary. Whenever you ran into him around the building, Hoseok always had a bright smile on his face. Seeing Yoongi that night really seemed to have shattered his entire personality.
“So, how do you know Yoongi?" Hoseok asked abruptly.
"Uh.." You recounted the moment you had first met the raven, remembering how close you had been to stabbing Joon with a pair of chopsticks until Yoongi intervened. "I met him at my job not long ago." You rubbed your arm awkwardly, completely refusing to go into full detail.
"Do you owe him money or something? Are you safe? Is he forcing you to sleep with him?"
He was completely overwhelming you with the sudden barrage of questions. You shook your head quickly, cutting him off before he could say anything else. "Hoseok, no. I don't owe him money, and I'm fine. Yoongi and I are acquaintances, just like I told you last time. That's all."
He furrowed his eyebrows deeply. "That's all? Y/n, you're a sweet girl. I've lived across the hall from you long enough to know that. Why would you ever get into the mix with the likes of him? Do you know who he is? What he does? What he's done to people? Yoongi is dangerous."
"And you know that firsthand, don't you?" you snapped.
Hoseok froze.
"Yeah, I know you used to work for Yoongi. He told me," you continued, crossing your arms. "I also know you two were friends."
Hoseok clenched his jaw, the silence stretching tight between you. "Yeah, we were. Me, Yoongi, and Joon. We grew up together, started this shit together. But Yoongi got dark. Got money hungry. Wanted to be something more powerful. Now he's a monster... maybe he'd always been a monster deep down." Hoseok's voice trailed off, his eyes clouding over as his mind reminisced about a past he had tried so hard to leave behind. About the friend he once had.
"You said you grew up with Joon too," you countered. "He's shown me he's more of a monster than Yoongi, yet you hold more disdain for Yoongi. Why?" When you had first met Joon, he was ready to attack an old couple just for a restaurant table, and then he had turned on you for standing up to him.
Hoseok scoffed. "Because I expected this from Joon. Maybe not to this extent, but Joon was always troubled. He only started hanging out with us after Yoongi met him in juvie. And Yoongi didn't truly start getting into trouble until his parents died. He was a little shit back then, sure, but definitely not the cold hearted monster he is now."
You remembered the raven mentioning his parents to you. How they had died in a house fire after his drunk of a father left a stove burning.
You sighed. None of this truly answered why Hoseok was so fearful of Yoongi now. They had started their empire together, so Hoseok clearly hadn't had any qualms about the lifestyle back then. Why the sudden change? Curiosity burned in your chest, and you opened your mouth to ask, but before you could, your phone started to ring from the other room.
You rushed to your bedroom, snatching the device off the bed. It was Yoongi. "Is that him?" Hoseok called out from the living room. Ignoring his question, you swiped the screen and brought the phone to your ear. "Hello?"
"I'm outside. Come down, and don't take too long," the raven demanded, his tone clipped. He hung up before you could even draw a breath to reply. You clicked your tongue in annoyance, pulling the phone away from your ear. "Listen, Hoseok, I can't sit here and talk about this right now. I have to go," you said, grabbing your purse off the nightstand.
"That was him, wasn't it?" he asked again, stepping toward your bedroom doorway. You offered no answer. "Look, I know I'm just your neighbor, and I can't tell you what to do, but I don't think you should keep hanging around him."
You shook your head, completely unready to process his warnings right now, but he remained persistent.
"Why do you care so much about what I do?" you retorted, eyeing the brunet. "Why do you care if I hang out with Yoongi?"
"Because you remind me of her."
You furrowed your eyebrows. "Of her? Who's her?" Hoseok's eyes began to water, a raw pain breaking through his serious facade. "The only woman I've ever loved. She's gone... because of him. He took her just to get back at me, and he got away with it."
"What? What do you mean?"
Before Hoseok could answer, your phone buzzed violently in your hand. It was a text from Yoongi, undoubtedly urging you to hurry the hell up. "I have to go." You muttered, deliberately putting the terrifying conversation aside. You walked out to the entryway and opened your apartment door, gesturing for Hoseok to leave first.
He exited into the dimly lit corridor, but he didn't head toward his own apartment. Instead, he stood out in the hallway, his sorrowful eyes heavy upon you as you locked your door. He stared at you like this was going to be his last time seeing you. “Later, Hoseok.” You say, quickly disappearing down your hall.
The cool outside breeze brushed against your bare skin the moment you stepped out of the building. You immediately recognized Yoongi's old car parked at the curb instead of the sleek red one you two had ridden to the fair in. Walking around the hood, you opened the door and climbed into the passenger seat.
"Took you long enough," the raven grumbled, not even looking at you as he shifted into drive. "I don't have the patience to be kept waiting."
You grimaced at his sour attitude. The absolute nerve of him to complain about a few minutes when he had just kept you waiting for a full hour. You pulled your seatbelt across your chest and buckled it in, and the car instantly surged forward into the night. Silently, you side eyed him, taking in his outfit. He wore a simple black hoodie with dark jeans, a chain clipped to his belt loops. He was a man who clearly adored his silver; another chain hung around his neck, and a couple of silver rings on his fingers. His long, dark hair was artfully messy, framing his face.
You had been expecting the raven to compliment your dress, as he usually never missed an opportunity to praise your appearance, but he stayed entirely silent, keeping his eyes glued to the dark road. You pulled your bottom lip between your teeth. It was weird not hearing Yoongi speak to you. Usually, you were the one giving him the silent treatment. Clearly, he was in a mood, so you opted against mentioning a single word of what Hoseok had just told you. Though curiosity was burning a hole in your chest, you didn’t want to piss him off any further.
Still, you decided to break the silence anyway, completely detesting the suffocating quiet inside the car. “What were you up to that took you so long?” you asked.
He looked over at you, a single sharp eyebrow raised, before turning right back toward the road without offering a word.
“Okay, don’t tell me then,” you huffed. You crossed your arms, turning your back to him to stare out the passenger window. Usually, the raven would have finally broken down and said something sarcastic by now, but instead, he simply reached forward and flicked on the radio.
You whipped your head around in total shock.
“Okay,” you started, your hand immediately darting out to slap the radio knob off. “What's your deal right now? You invited me to this stupid kickback, but now you’re acting like you wish I weren’t even here. I blew off a movie night with Jungkook to come out for you, but if you’re gonna be an asshole, then just take me home.”
Yoongi finally looked over at you, his sharp gaze cutting through the dim light of the car. “You blew off your little boyfriend to be with me?”
You nodded, suddenly finding your fingernails incredibly interesting. "I mean, you asked me first. I didn't want to blow you off after saying I'd come."
Yoongi smirked slightly, nodding his head as he looked back at the road. It was as if your words were a sort of confirmation for him. Suddenly, the atmosphere inside the car didn't feel so suffocating anymore. "You look good in that dress." The raven said.
You bit your bottom lip, turning away slightly in a desperate attempt to hide your smile.
The car pulled up to the warehouse that you'd come to know so well since getting involved with Yoongi. You noticed that, unlike last time, there weren't any people hanging out outside. No girls dressed in little to no clothing. No one smoking by the entrance. It was noticeably different from the last time.
"Am I gonna go upstairs and see a bunch of people in there?" you asked the raven, peeking out the window.
He snickered, turning off the ignition. "It's just Joon, some of my guys, and whatever bitches they brought. Just like I told you yesterday. Don't worry, sweetheart. I wouldn’t steer you wrong.” He assures you, leaning back in his seat.
"I wish you wouldn't call women 'bitches," you said, a look of dismay crossing your features.
"My apologies, princess. I'll rephrase that; whatever whores they brought." The raven smirked, leaning across the console to catch your eye. "That better for you?"
You rolled your eyes, pushing your door open to climb out into the cool night air. Yoongi follows suit. The two of you walk up the stairs to the metal door, your mind flashing to when Yoongi had pushed you against it to give you a speech about how you speak to him. He pulls open the door, letting you walk ahead. You hear laughter and music as you walk up the stairs, and the smell of weed wafts your senses. As you reach the main room, you’re amazed by how much different it looks without the load of people blocking every which way.
"Wonder Woman, you came through again!" Joon shouted, raising a solo cup high in his hand.
He was sitting amongst the two guys you recognized from last time, along with two others you hadn't seen before. Each of them had a girl sitting either on their lap or squeezed next to them on the couch. You noticed Sana sitting among the group, though she didn't appear to be there with any specific guy. Her sharp eyes locked onto you the exact moment you walked in with Yoongi.
‘Oh great, she's here…’ you thought dreadfully. This was going to be an absolute blast.
Yoongi walked toward an empty space on the couch, dropping down and patting the cushion right next to him. You sat down beside him, deliberately avoiding Sana's gaze as she continued to stare you down. "Here, have a sip." Joon passed you his cup.
You took it, looking down at the clear alcoholic beverage sloshing inside. "What's this?" you asked him.
"It's tequila."
"Yeah, your favorite. Remember?" Sana asked from across the room, her voice dripping with mock sweetness as she clearly referenced the night you had gotten drunk and danced right here in this very room.
You eyed the bitter woman, refusing to let her get under your skin. Without a word, you tipped your head back and downed the drink. The harsh liquor burned the back of your throat as it went down, but you didn't let your expression falter.
Joon hooted loudly, cheering your compliance as you handed him back the empty cup. "Oh, Y/n, you're my kind of woman, doll," Joon laughed.
"Yeah, she surely is somethin", the raven said, resting his arm along the back of the couch behind you. You noticed them passing a blunt around the circle. Once Joon took a couple of hits, he offered it directly to you. You shook your head quickly, gesturing for him to pass it to Yoongi instead.
"Oh, c’mon, it's just weed," Joon insisted, still holding it out. “It ain’t gonna kill you.”
"That's fine. I've just never smoked it before," you said awkwardly, suddenly feeling like a complete amateur sitting in a room full of seasoned drug dealers and users.
"Of course you haven't. You're too much of a goody-goody," Sana remarked. The other girls cracked up, making a sudden wave of heat creep up your neck.
"Nothing wrong with being a good girl. A lot of us men admire that," Yoongi smirked, stepping in as he took the blunt from Joon's fingers. "Leaves room for corruption."
"I'm just scared of how it'll make me feel, that’s all." You admitted softly.
"It's like alcohol, but a different type of intoxication. Here, I'll help you." The raven shifted his weight, leaning in close as he took a long drag. Holding the smoke trapped in his lungs, he gestured with his free hand for you to move closer. You hesitated for a heartbeat, your breath catching, before leaning forward slowly. Yoongi stopped when he was mere inches away from your face, his dark gaze locking onto your mouth before he began to exhale the smoke, breathing it out little by little. Though you were skeptical, you leaned in the final inch, inhaling the gray smoke as it retreated past his lips.
A harsh cough ripped from your throat the second the smoke hit the back of your sensitive lungs. Yoongi moved back just a fraction, a lazy, satisfied grin spreading across his face as he took in your reaction. "See?" he smirked, his voice dropping an octave. "Corrupting you already."
You stared at the raven, bringing your bottom lip between your teeth. The two of you locked eyes, completely forgetting that there was an entire group of people watching your every move.
"Alright, alright, get a room already," Joon teased, breaking the spell you were in.
Yoongi kept his eyes firmly on you, entirely unfazed by the audience. "I wouldn't mind getting a room," he said, slowly running his tongue over his bottom lip. You swallowed the lump in your throat, suddenly feeling the raven's free hand begin to roam up your exposed thigh.
You quickly stood to your feet, breaking the contact before he could go any further. "Um, I think I could use another drink. I'm assuming the bottle is in the kitchen?" you asked, pointing toward the doorway and letting out an awkward, nervous laugh.
Yoongi simply nodded, his grin turning cocky at your sudden fluster, clearly overjoyed at being the sole cause of it. You quickly shuffled away and escaped into the kitchen, feeling the anxious tightness in your chest finally begin to disperse the moment you were separated from the heavy atmosphere of the group.
Once your heartbeat finally settled, you grabbed an empty solo cup from the counter. Your eyes scanned the kitchen, landing on a bottle of Don Julio. You grabbed it, pulling the cork out with a sharp pop.
"You and Yoongi look super cozy together." The sudden voice startled you. You turned around to see Sana standing in the entryway, her arms crossed tight over her chest.
"So?" you said, turning your back to her again to pour the tequila into your cup.
"So, I thought you were very adamant about not being into him. Remember?"
You whipped back around to face her. "I'm not," you snapped, your tone sharp. "He just invited me, so I came. That's it."
It was a bold faced lie; anyone in that room could feel the electric tension between you and the raven. You tried your best to hide it, but then he went and pulled stunts like he just did on the couch, and all your defenses came crashing down. You were attracted to Yoongi. That was a fact you could no longer deny to yourself. But deep down, you knew nothing could ever come of it. You were with Jungkook.
You just hated that you had to keep reminding yourself of that.
“You can say whatever you want, convince yourself of whatever you need, but you can’t convince me,” Sana snarled, her voice dropping to a harsh, mocking tone. “I mean, I don’t blame you. He’s Min Yoongi. Out of all those guys sitting out there, he has a presence that no woman can resist. Clearly not even you, Miss Goody-Goody. I honestly can’t wait to say I told you so.”
With one last judgmental look, she turned on her heel and swept out of the entryway, leaving you completely alone in the quiet kitchen. You quickly downed the burning liquid in your cup, letting it sear your throat as you emptied every last drop before immediately pouring yourself another one. Just as the liquor splashed into the bottom of the solo cup, you heard heavy footsteps approaching from behind. You turned slightly, watching the raven slide effortlessly into the kitchen.
"Slow down there, lightweight," he teased, a grin tugging at the corner of his lips as he took in the sight of the bottle in your hand. "I don't need you blacking out here."
You glared at him, throwing back the second drink before slamming the cup down onto the counter. "I'm ready to leave."
"What?" The raven raised an eyebrow, his lazy grin instantly vanishing. "We just got here," he stated, pointing out the obvious.
"Yeah, well, I'm not feeling quite like a people person tonight," you muttered, your mind in a million different places. First, there was Jungkook saying he loved you. Then, Hoseok's chilling warning. And now Sana with her crazy jealousy, clearly nowhere near over her past with Yoongi. It was all too much. You’d rather just have been alone to process everything, but Yoongi remained persistent about you staying.
“You don’t have to be. It won’t be too long before the guys dip out to get their nut off,” the raven said, his slow grin returning. He stepped a fraction closer to you, tilting his head to catch your eyes. “Then it’ll just be me and you… unless I’m included in your desire to not be around people right now?”
Naturally, you didn’t mind being around just Yoongi. He was the sole reason you had even come in the first place. But there was always a stubborn moral compass ringing inside your head, reminding you that any feelings you harbored toward the raven were wrong; a complete betrayal not only to Jungkook, but to Mina, too.
Yoongi literally sold coke to Mina's boyfriend, ruthlessly using him as one of his drug mules. Not to mention the terrifying reality that Yoongi had probably killed people, whether indirectly or by his own hands. Though, you weren't entirely sure how true that part actually was. A drug dealer? That fact was completely undeniable. But a killer? Could Yoongi truly be capable of murder? The man you had seen at the fair, the one who had looked at you with soft eyes, and shared a deep moment with you, couldn't possibly be a monster.
“Well, what about Sana?” you asked suddenly.
Yoongi raised an eyebrow, his dark eyes narrowing slightly at the random mention of Sana. “What the fuck about her?”
"She's here. Why don't you just have her keep you company?" you scowled, turning back around to pour another drink. But before you could even pop the cork out, Yoongi snatched the bottle completely out of your hand. He didn't say a word at first, his eyes locking onto yours as he deliberately set the bottle down on the counter behind him, clearing the distraction out of the way.
“Is that where this little attitude is coming from? Sana? I thought I told you I only fucked her once.”
"I don't care how many times you did. It's none of my business," you lied, keeping your voice tight as you tried to save face. "I just thought I'd make it clear that you have other options and don't need me here."
The raven stared at you for a moment.
"When are you gonna stop pretending there's nothing here and just give in to me?" Yoongi asked, his voice dropping to a low, dangerous murmur as he took another step toward you. You instinctively tried to back away from him, but the hard edge of the counter pressed against your lower back, leaving you with absolutely no space left to move.
"B-because there isn't.." you stuttered, the denial tasting like ash on your tongue.
Yoongi closed the remaining distance between you two, his hands coming down to rest on the counter on either side of your hips. You were completely sandwiched between the raven and the cold marble surface. Your heart thumped frantically against your ribs as he began to lean down toward your lips, his gaze dropping to your mouth. "There isn't?" he questioned, his breath fanning across your skin.
"Yo, Honcho–" Joon’s voice cut through the air as he popped his head through the entryway of the kitchen. He froze for a fraction of a second, taking in the sight of the two of you trapped in each other's space, before the corner of his lips pulled into a knowing smirk. “I always seem to pop in on you two at the craziest times,” he teased.
"What is it, Joon?" Yoongi's voice was rough, dripping with irritation at his second in command as he turned his head slightly to look at him, though his hands never left the counter, keeping you securely pinned.
"Me and the guys are gonna dip and handle our due diligence," Joon said, flashing a quick wink. It didn't take a scientist to figure out what he meant. It was exactly what Yoongi had predicted just minutes ago; they were heading out to get their nut off.
Yoongi nodded, but his full, dark attention immediately snapped back to you. "Is Sana still here?" he asked Joon, his eyes tracking the way your chest rose and fell.
"Yeah, she is. Why, what's up?"
"Send the bitch on her way," Yoongi said coldly.
"Say less," Joon complied, stepping backward out of the kitchen and leaving you and the raven completely alone once again.
You could hear his retreating footsteps heading back to the living room, followed shortly by the distant, muffled sound of him telling Sana it was time to go. "There. Problem solved, sweetheart," Yoongi said, finally taking a single step back from you, though his dark gaze never wavered. The raven reached over and grabbed the bottle of Don Julio, shaking it slightly in the air as a lazy smirk crept back onto his face. "Now it's just you and me. So, how about we drink and have a kickback of our own?"
"Then I tried to hop over the fence and my shirt got caught," Yoongi smirked, tucking a stray strand of his dark hair behind his ear as he recounted the first time he went to juvie.
The two of you were easily ten shots in by now, having moved the bottle from the kitchen to the living room couch. You were completely enveloped in a rare state of security. You sat comfortably against the cushions with your shoes discarded on the floor, your legs curled up tightly under you. Yoongi sat close beside you, leaning forward over his knees as he flicked a lighter to life, igniting another blunt.
You giggled at the raven's story, shaking your head. "Why didn't you just try to slip the shirt off?" you asked him.
"I was running for like thirty minutes trying to get away. At that point, I was too tired. I just said fuck it, take me," he chuckled. He shoved the lighter back into his sweatshirt pocket before taking a few deep puffs of the blunt, the tip glowing a dull orange in the dim room. "Anyway, shit happens for a reason. I wouldn't have met Joon if I didn't get caught that day."
Hearing him say it out loud made a piece of the puzzle click. You silently recalled Hoseok mentioning earlier that night that Yoongi and Joon had first crossed paths in juvie. You wanted to bring up Hoseok's crazy ramblings to Yoongi, but you decided it was best not to. Not now, at least. Not when the vibe between you was so perfectly calm and natural.
Yoongi looked over at you, extending his hand with the blunt pinched tightly between his index finger and thumb. "You wanna hit this?" he asked. You looked down at the brown wrap. You hesitated for a split second, but ultimately took the blunt from his fingers, your skin brushing against his.
Putting it to your lips, you took a few light, careful puffs, still too afraid to take massive hits the way Yoongi did. The raven smiled, his dark eyes watching you intensely, as if he expected you to choke if he wasn't being vigilant. "Thatta girl, princess. Shotgunned off of me once and now I got you smoking like a pro," he said proudly, his voice low and laced with satisfaction. You exhaled the smoke, then handed the blunt back to the raven.
"Don't get used to me doing that. I'm just enjoying the moment," you said, trying to keep your voice steady.
Yoongi shrugged, taking another slow hit from the blunt. "I'm proud either way, angel," he said.
You stiffened slightly at the nickname. You had never heard Yoongi call you that before. It was a term of endearment that belonged entirely to Jungkook. He used it all the time. Suddenly, your mind was flooded with the memory of Jungkook slipping up and saying he loved you at work earlier today, and a crushing wave of guilt washed over your chest. Here you were, hiding away and getting high with Yoongi, while Jungkook mindlessly believed you were just hanging out with Mina right now.
Yoongi's sharp eyes immediately noticed the shift, catching the exact moment you zoned out and went miles away. "You good?" he asked, his brow furrowing slightly as he studied your face. You debated on whether or not you should tell him what Jungkook had said today. Would he even care?
"Um... Jungkook said he loved me today." You looked over at the raven, your eyes searching his face to read his expression.
Yoongi ran his fingers through his dark hair, nodding his head slowly as if absorbing the news without letting it shake him. "And then what?" he asked, his voice steady as he waited for you to continue further.
"And then... nothing," you shrugged, the weight of the confession making your shoulders feel heavy. "I said nothing when he said it. I feel so horrible." You sighed, rubbing your hands over your face to shield yourself from the quiet of the room. You cared about Jungkook deeply; you had been best friends for years, and you had harbored feelings for him long before the two of you finally decided to date and test the waters. But these past few days, everything has felt entirely off between you two.
You felt... bored.
"You don't love him," Yoongi stated, his voice flat and certain, as if he personally knew your own feelings and heart better than you did.
You furrowed your eyebrows at him, your chest tightening defensively. "What?"
"You don't love him," he casually repeated. He reached over to grab an empty Solo cup from the coffee table, dropping the butt of the blunt inside.
"And how the hell would you know how I feel?" you shot back, trying to summon enough anger to mask the panic rising in your throat.
"Because you're here with me," Yoongi said, leaning back against the cushions and pinning you with an intense look. "You turned down a movie night with him to spend time with me. That alone should tell you something."
You opened your mouth to defend your actions, but the words died in your throat. You couldn't. You were here with Yoongi, and the bitter, undeniable truth was that you didn't regret the decision at all.
You were genuinely enjoying these casual conversations with him. Ever since the Daegu fair, the raven had become entirely humanized in your eyes. Even though he sold drugs and carried a dangerous, mean streak to his name, you liked him.
You liked Yoongi.
The silence in the living room stretched between you, heavy and thick with the smell of smoke, as his words settled deep into your chest. Yoongi just tracked the movement of your lips, waiting, knowing he had trapped you in a corner where lies couldn't save you. So you didn’t attempt it.
You casually looked around, admiring the decor of the warehouse and searching for absolutely anything to change the suffocating topic. Your eyes landed on an all black acoustic guitar hanging neatly on the wall right next to the loft stairs. "That's a cool guitar," you said, motioning toward it.
Yoongi pulled his gaze away from you, tracking your movement until his eyes landed on the instrument. "That's my baby right there. My mom bought it for me when I was twelve," he said, a genuine, soft smile tugging at his lips at the memory of his mother.
"You play?" you questioned, a little surprised. "I thought it was just for decoration."
"Don't insult me, sweetheart. I don't do things just for the look," he rumbled playfully. He stood up from the cushions, walking over to retrieve the guitar from its mount before coming back to sit down on the couch right beside you. Yoongi began to tune the guitar, his long fingers adjusting the pegs with practiced ease. You were completely surprised he could even function with all the alcohol and weed running through his system, but the substances didn't seem to phase him even a little bit.
The raven strummed the strings to see if the tune was to his liking, the chords ringing out deep and crisp into the high ceilings of the warehouse. Then, his fingers shifted, and he began to play.
You watched him intently. He looked completely relaxed, his dark eyes focused on the fretboard as he plucked out an all too familiar melody—one that immediately made your chest tighten and your heart feel incredibly massive.
Knocking on Heaven's Door by Bob Dylan.
That was your dad's favorite song.
You hadn't heard the song in so long, having avoided it at all costs ever since your parents died. Yet, here Yoongi was playing it, handling the notes as though he could read your heart like an open book. The raven looked up at you, his fingers never missing a single strum despite his eyes locking onto yours. You felt a single tear escape and slip down your cheek. A quiet movement that didn't go unnoticed by him.
Yoongi immediately stopped playing, flattening his palm over the strings to kill the vibration. "You okay? I didn't mean to make you emotional," he murmured, his voice dropping into something genuinely gentle.
You shook your head, sniffing softly as you tried to swallow the lump in your throat. "No, you're fine. It's just... that song you played. It reminded me of my dad, that's all. That was his favorite song," you informed him, your voice cracking slightly on the words.
A wave of sympathy softened his sharp features. He carefully set the black guitar down onto the floor, completely discarding it to move closer to you on the cushions. Reaching out, the raven gently brushed the pad of his thumb against your cheek, wiping away the stray tear. “You’re too pretty to cry,” he whispered, his thumb lingering against your skin.
Min Yoongi.
When you first met him, those eyes made you shiver. They were scary, cold, and lifeless; the devil's eyes.
Now, those exact same eyes were looking at you like you were something so precious, something so breakable that he wanted to protect you from any further damage.
The raven's lips inched closer to yours. You followed suit, your breath hitching as your eyes fluttered closed, waiting to finally feel the soft pressure of his lips against yours. When his lips finally do meet yours, it wasn’t the harsh, reckless collision you might have expected from someone like Yoongi. It was soft, slow, and desperately tender. A quiet reassurance that sent a tingle straight down your spine. The faint taste of tequila and smoke lingered between you, blurring the edges of the room until nothing else existed but the warmth of his mouth against yours.
Yoongi’s hand slid from your cheek, his long fingers gently gripping the back of your neck to hold you steady, deepening the kiss with a low, heavy breath. You melted into him, your hands finding themselves on the soft fabric of his sweatshirt as you pulled yourself closer.
Every ounce of guilt, every lingering warning from Hoseok, and the ghost of Jungkook’s confession from earlier today were entirely washed away in the dark, quiet haze of the warehouse.
You found yourself slowly being pushed backward onto the plush cushions of the couch, the fabric of your dress riding up your thighs as Yoongi settled his body over yours, positioning himself flush between your legs.
Yoongi didn't break the kiss for a single second. Instead, his mouth grew hungrier, more possessive, tracing the seam of your lips as his hands left your neck to slide down to your waist, his grip firm and steady as he anchored you to the cushions beneath him. The contrast of his heavy frame pinning you down while treating you like something entirely precious made your breath hitch against his lips, your fingers tightening into the fabric of his sweatshirt to pull him even closer.
The sudden loss of his warmth made you gasp softly as Yoongi pulled his lips away from yours. He remained settled heavily between your legs, his dark eyes locked onto you as he crossed his arms and pulled his sweatshirt over his head in one fluid motion. The silver chain around his neck clanked in the quiet room before settling against his collarbone.
He tossed the discarded sweatshirt onto the floor, leaving him in just a plain white tee. Yoongi paused for a second, his chest rising and falling with hefty breaths as he used a hand to push his messy dark locks back out of his face. The intense, protective gaze was still burning in his eyes, but now it was laced with an undeniable hunger. Leaning back forward, he closed the distance between you once again, crashing his lips back onto yours with a newfound fervor that completely stole the air from your lungs.
The raven rolled his hips against you, the sudden, friction filled pressure making a soft whimper escape your lips. His large hands held your waist securely to the cushions before he pulled his lips away once more, all the while still grinding slowly against you.
"I promise to be gentle with you if you let me," he whispered, his breath hot and ragged against your skin. His hands slid up your sides, the rough texture of his palms catching against the fabric as he began to lift your dress further. A sudden wave of nerves crashed over you at the thought, making your chest tighten. You wanted him. You desperately wanted this, but the guilt was a massive wall standing right in the way.
You had always assumed you would lose your virginity to Jungkook. It was supposed to be safe, familiar, and organically planned. But Jungkook wasn't here.
Yoongi was.
He was right here, hovering over you with a patient hunger, waiting for the words that would change everything between you two.
"Y-Yoongi, we can't. I'm with Jungko-"
The raven clamped a hand over your mouth, stopping you from finishing his name. "I don't wanna hear his fucking name right now," he growled. His hips were still grinding into you, but his pace picked up, the sudden intensity making your breath hitch beneath his palm.
The consistent, heavy motion made your panties rub against your clit, sending a tingle straight down your spine. Yoongi slowly pulled his hand away from your lips, his dark eyes burning down into yours with an absolute, possessive gravity. "Tell me you don't want this, and I'll stop," he said, his voice a low command.
You didn't offer the raven any words, just a breathless moan that tore from your throat. A sound that was absolute music to his ears. He smirked down at how needy you looked underneath him, his ego flaring at his total control over you. How could you possibly pretend to not want this when you were coming apart already, and he hadn't even been inside of you yet?
"From the looks of it, you're so deprived that all it’Il take right now is dry fucking for you to cum," he rasped, his voice dropping into a dark, filthy purr that made your stomach completely flip. You couldn't deny it; this simple action really could be enough to cause an orgasm, but deep down, you wanted to go the extra mile with him. "Do it," you whined, your hips blindly tracking his movement as you completely lost your grip on your restraint. "J-Just do it."
That was all Yoongi needed to hear. He stopped grinding into you, pulling back to undo his jeans. He didn't take them fully off, opting instead to pull them down just enough for his hard cock to spring free from his Celine boxers. Your eyes widened slightly, and you swallowed the lump in your throat as you took in the full size and length of him. He was much bigger than you had expected him to be; it was no wonder Sana had a hard time getting over him after their one night stand.
The raven hooked his fingers into the hem of your panties, pulling them down and tossing them onto the floor right next to his sweatshirt. Your dress was still bunched up around your waist, leaving you completely exposed beneath him now. You instinctively tried to close your legs to hide yourself, but with his weight still settled right between your thighs, you couldn't move.
The raven smirked down at your failed attempt to hide, his thighs easily pulling yours further apart, refusing to let you close yourself off. But as he looked down, tracking the panicked rise and fall of your chest and the way you squeezed your eyes shut tight, the smug look vanished. Seeing how scared you were dragged him back to reality, reminding him exactly what this was for you.
Your first time.
The thought alone sent a possessive rush in his veins. You weren’t like the other women he had fucked, then passed around to his crew. You were pure. Untouched. Untainted. Your walls had never been broken, and knowing he was the very first to claim you made him want to lose all control, to pin you down and slam his dick straight into you. But he fought the urge back. He was willing to take this slow. He was willing to be gentle, just like he promised. He wasn't going to force his way in. Not yet.
"Relax for me," he murmured, his voice dropping into a low purr. Bypassing his cock for now, Yoongi reached down, his long fingers finding your slick, dripping heat. He pressed the pad of his thumb against your clit, making you gasp, before he slowly slid a single finger inside of you.
The feeling of his hot skin sliding into you sent an intense, unravelling ache straight to your core. Your inner walls clenched down around him, instantly tight and resistant to the sudden intrusion. Yoongi hissed softly at the brutal friction, the muscle in his jaw feathering as he held himself still. He didn't pull back; instead, he kept his finger buried deep inside you to let your body adapt, while the pad of his thumb began working in small, agonizingly slow circles to coax you open.
A mixture of pain and pleasure flooded your senses. You had never actually inserted anything inside of yourself before, only ever rubbing your clit when you were alone and horny, so this deep, stretching was completely overwhelming. The intensity of the feeling made it impossible to listen to his voice, let alone try to relax.
"Look at me," Yoongi growled, his voice dropping into a rough command as he noticed your breathing hitch. He pressed his thumb a little firmer against your clit, trying to ground you through the sensory overload. "I know it hurts a little, but you need to breathe for me. Let it slip in and out."
Your eyes flutter open upon his command as you try to breathe as told. Slowly, he began to curl his finger inside you, testing your limits and forcing your tight depths to widen for him. The sudden internal hook against your walls completely shattered your concentration, dragging a high, helpless whine from your throat. Your back arched slightly off the couch cushions, your hands clawing blindly into the fabric beside your head as your muscles instinctively clamped down once more around his finger.
Yoongi hissed again through his teeth, his knuckles turning white where his hand rested against the armrest behind your head. The crushing grip of your body around his finger was testing the absolute limits of his control, but he didn't back off. Instead, his gaze darkened with a relentless dominance. "I told you to breathe," he rasped, his voice dropping an octave, rough and completely devoid of room for negotiation.
He leaned more of his weight over you, his lean frame crowding you down and effectively trapping you flat against the cushions. His free hand moved from the armrest to slide up the side of your neck, his thumb bracing firmly under your jaw to tilt your face up. He didn't hurt you, but the grip was ironclad, forcing your eyes right back to his.
With you completely pinned beneath him, the pad of his thumb pressed down hard against your swollen clit, no longer stroking in gentle circles, but applying a heavy, flattening pressure that sent a sudden ache straight through your pelvis. He held it there, demanding your total submission.
"Stop fighting it," he commanded, his eyes burning into yours as he tilted his finger a fraction deeper against your tight walls. "If you can’t take one finger, how’re you supposed to take this dick, huh?” His grip tightens slightly on the side of your neck. “Huh?” he repeated, demanding your answer.
“I-I’m sorry…” you stammered, embarrassment flooding your chest as the weight of his standards settled heavily over you.
Yoongi shook his head at your apology. “Don’t apologize to me, babygirl. Just take it.”
The pet name hits you like a physical shock, melting through the sharp sting of the entrance and sending a completely different kind of heat pooling between your thighs. Hearing him call you that while his frame pinned you to the couch cushions made your heart hammer against your chest. Your fingers twitched against the fabric beside your head, your body instinctively wanting to soften under the sudden warmth of his praise, even as the fullness of his finger remained buried deep inside you, awaiting your compliance.
Your breathing finally began to stutter out in a long, trembling exhale, your chest sinking as you forced yourself to yield to his command. The tense, defensive coil in your hips slowly dissolved into the cushions, allowing the walls of your core to soften and untangle around his finger.
Yoongi watched the change happen in real time, his eyes tracking the exact moment the panic left your expression and your body opened up for him. A low, approving rumble vibrated deep in his chest as the tight friction around his hand gave way to an accommodating heat. "Good girl." he murmured, his voice dropping a quiet praise that made your stomach flutter.
The raven didn't hesitate. Seizing the moment your body relaxed, he slid his thumb out from under your jaw and used his free hand to firmly spread your legs a little wider, anchoring you in place. With a smooth shift of his knuckles, he aligned a second finger against your opening and pushed it straight inside, pairing it alongside the first before immediately driving them deep.
The sudden, thick invasion turned into a heavy, rhythmic thrusting that completely took your breath away. He set a demanding pace right from the start, his wrist moving with practiced precision as his fingers slid all the way in and pulled back just enough to drive right back into your heat. A choked gasp caught in your throat as the friction of two fingers moving deep inside of you stretched your newly softened depths to their absolute limit, the steady, relentless tempo turning the initial ache into an overwhelming fullness.
“Oh fuck–” you cried, your hand mindlessly reaching out to try to grab at his wrist to stop him, but Yoongi smacked it away before you could.
“Don’t touch me,” he growled, the sharp reprimand cutting right through your haze as his fingers kept up their relentless rhythm inside you. Your hand dropped back onto the cushion, your fingers twitching helplessly against the fabric as the pace he was driving into you completely shattered your defenses. Yoongi didn't look down; his dark eyes stayed locked on your face, watching the way your lips parted and your chest heaved with every deep, sliding stroke of his hand.
The slick stretch of two fingers moving in such a demanding, unbothered tempo was turning your embarrassment into a pure, frantic need. He was stretching you out completely, filling you so thoroughly that every push of his wrist sent a hot wave of pressure straight through your hips, forcing you to take every bit of the pace he set.
The relentless, deep pace he was driving into you was rapidly breaking your body down, forcing a thick moisture to coat his skin. Within moments, the fullness of his two fingers began to pump your arousal out, the glossy wetness overflowing your tight opening until it completely drenched his fingers and smeared across the back of his hand.
Yoongi let out a low, gritty sound at the wet squelch of his movements echoing in the quiet room as his knuckles repeatedly pressed against your drenched entrance. The messy, excessive warmth of your own body coating his hand only seemed to make him get rougher, using your own lubrication to drive his fingers even deeper, thoroughly stretching you out until you were dripping against his skin with every single stroke.
The raven’s dark eyes narrowed as he tracked the erratic shudder of your chest, his fingers still ruthlessly working inside you to draw out every drop of your wetness. The sight of you completely undone, trembling on the verge of a breakdown, stripped away the last of his patience.
He abruptly stopped the rhythm, leaving his fingers buried deep and perfectly still inside your swollen depths. The sudden lack of movement was an absolute tease, leaving you stranded on the very edge of a cliff.
He leaned down until his lips brushed the shell of your ear, his breath hot against your skin as he forced his weight heavily over you.“Tell me you want me to fuck you,” he demanded, his voice a deep command that left no room for hesitation. “Say it.”
A high, dire whine broke from your throat at the sudden agonizing stillness, your hips instinctively jerking upward in a silent, pathetic plea for him to keep moving. The tease was unbearable; your body was wound so incredibly tight, practically begging for the release he was intentionally withholding from you.
Yoongi didn't budge an inch. He simply let out a dark, amused huff against your ear, his fingers remained buried like lead inside your dripping pussy. "I didn't ask for a whine," he rasped, his thumb pressing firmly against your jawline to tilt your head back just enough to look at him. "I asked for words. Tell me you want me to fuck you." He repeated the command.
“I–I… I want you fuck me.” You stutter out.
"Good girl," he growled the praise against your ear as he finally withdrew his fingers from your drenched warmth.
The sudden emptiness left you cold for only a second before the weight of his front pressed completely over you, pinning you flat into the couch. He didn't waste another moment. His hand reached down between your bodies, guiding his throbbing cock directly against your swollen opening, smearing your own excess wetness along the head.
He didn't ease into it. With one fluid, commanding thrust of his hips, Yoongi buried himself all the way inside of you, driving deep until his pelvis smacked hard against yours.
Your breath cut off completely, a choked scream tearing from your throat as your fingers clawed desperately into the fabric of his shirt. Your gaze, already locked wide onto his, turned instantly glassy as his sheer thickness stretched you open to an impossible limit, filling you so completely it made your head spin.
“Fuck—” The raven grunted, his upper body hovering over you as he went completely rigid, burying his face into the crook of your neck.
He stayed entirely still, his muscles locked as he forced himself to hold back and let your body adjust to his size. The utter stretch of him filling you to the absolute brim made your hips tremble against the cushions, your breath coming in shallow, ragged hitches beneath his heavy frame.
Every muscle in his back was corded with strain, his pulse hammering heavily where his chest pressed against yours. He took a slow, deep breath, waiting out the initial shock of the fit, though the tight, desperate clench of your walls around his cock was clearly pushing his self control over the edge.
The moment the clenching of your walls finally eased into a welcoming squeeze, Yoongi let out a satisfied groan. He didn't give you a second to recover. Pulling back just enough to catch his leverage, he drove his hips forward, initiating a hard, deliberate rhythm that completely altered the gravity of the room. The slow, punishing depth of his first few strokes was consuming; he slid almost entirely out before sinking all the way back in, bottoming out against you with a wet, heavy thud that rattled the breath right out of your lungs.
He growled, his hands locking firmly on your hips to keep you pinned into the cushions as his pace began to quicken. "Fuck, your pussy feels so good. Just like I imagined."
The steady, intense heat of his body against yours quickly became a relentless blur as his speed increased. The contact was rougher now, the coarse denim of his jeans and the fabric of his boxers scraping against your inner thighs with every aggressive plunge.
The sound of his skin and denim slapping against you echoed loud in the room, driving home the raw, bruising pace he was establishing. With every powerful thrust, his pelvis collided hard against your hips, the tight fullness stretching you so completely that a series of needy, high pitched moans broke from your throat. Because it was your first time, the sheer magnitude of the sensation was almost too much to process; every single movement sent a wave of sweet ache straight through your body, a deep tightness that was simultaneously agonizing and intoxicating as he broke you in.
Yoongi’s gaze never left your face, his eyes dark and entirely focused as he hovered over you. As his upper body leaned in closer to deepen the angle, the chain around his neck swung free. “God, you’re so pretty.” He breathed out. “The best pussy I’ve ever fucking had.”
“Y-Yoongi…” you moaned, your hands balling up the fabric of his shirt tightly. The raven flashed his gummy smile at the sound of his name rolling off your tongue. It was something he could listen to over and over again.
“Fuck… say my name again.”
"Y-Yoongi..." you cried out again, your voice completely breaking as your eyes fluttered closed, your mind dissolving under the weight of pleasure, until the sudden sharp, stinging sensation of his fingers gently smacked your cheek, snapping your eyes back open.
"Look at me," he commanded, his voice growing incredibly rough and strained as his pace became frantic. "I want you looking at me while I fuck you.” He panted, undoubtedly coming close to his end. You were close as well, feeling an intense feeling build up in your stomach.
"Look at how wet you are for me," he rasped, his dirty talk turning completely unfiltered as he felt the contractions of your walls tightening around him. He drove into you harder, faster. "You're taking every single inch of me."
Your vision blurred at the edges as that coiled heat in your stomach wound tighter and tighter, threatening to snap. Every touch felt magnified a hundred times over because it was him, because it was your first time, and the vulnerability of being completely pinned beneath his weight had your mind spinning out of control.
Yoongi let out a low, breathless laugh, his hips stuttering as the deep squelch of your pussy and his thrusts echoed loudly. "Fuck, look what we did," he groaned, his voice dripping with dark satisfaction as he looked down at where your bodies met. "You completely soaked the couch underneath us, baby. You're dripping all over the cushions for me."
Hearing those words sent a heavy wave of heat straight to your face, a mix of intense shyness and absolute surrender that made you squeeze him even tighter.
"Y-Yoongi, I'm gonna..." you cried out, your fingers letting go of his shirt so you could wrap your arms securely around his neck, pulling him down against you. Your hips bucked up instinctively against his, completely consumed by the pressure. "I'm about to cum..."
His dark eyes flared with desperation, his pace turning completely frantic at your admission. Strands of his damp, raven hair fell completely into his face, clinging to his sweaty forehead and obscuring his vision, but he didn't even try to brush them away as he stared down at you through the dark fringe. He slid his arms beneath your back, wrapping them tightly around you and locking you in an embrace that left no space between your chests.
"Me too, baby, fuck, I'm right there with you," he panted out, his voice entirely undone.
He bottomed out hard, his chest heaving as he stared down at you with completely blown out eyes, caught instantly as the coiled tension in your stomach snapped. “Oh god, fuck!” You scream aloud. An explosive, blinding wave of release crashed through you, your walls clamping down on him in tight, frantic pulses.
"I wanna watch my cum dripping out of this tight little pussy when I'm done with you." Yoongi growled, his grip tightening around you as the muscles in his back locked up, your climax triggering his own.With a final, deep thrust, Yoongi threw his head back, his dark hair tossing wildly away from his face. A loud, guttural groan tore from his throat as he came heavily inside you, his entire frame shuddering violently within your embrace as he poured himself into your tightness, locking you both into the shared, breathless aftershocks of the peak.
The violent shuddering of his body slowly subsided, leaving only the sound of your shared, ragged breathing filling the quiet room. For a long moment, neither of you moved. Yoongi remained buried deep inside you, his heavy frame completely draped over yours, his face buried in the crook of your neck as his chest heaved against your breasts.
The tight grip of his arms around your back gradually softened, his hands now simply resting against the fabric of your dress, tracing comforting circles into your waist through the material. You could feel the rapid thumping of his heartbeat right against your ribs, slowly syncing up with your own.
With a low, exhausted grunt, Yoongi shifted his weight, propping himself up on his forearms to look down at you, careful not to crush you on the narrow cushions. Strands of his damp, raven hair were still stuck to his forehead, framing eyes that were dark, heavy lidded, and utterly soft. The intimidating intensity from moments before was completely gone, replaced by a quiet, protective warmth.
"You okay?" he murmured, his voice incredibly deep from the groans he’d just let out. He raised one hand, his thumb gently brushing against your skin, his touch entirely tender.
“Mhm..” You nod breathlessly, your body feeling liquefied, a pleasant ache settling deep into you.
A slow, satisfied smirk tugged at the corner of his lips as he looked down at where your bodies were still joined beneath the bunched up layers of your dress. True to his word, as he slowly and carefully began to pull himself out of your slick cunt, a thick, white stream of his release mixed with your own, dripping out of you and pooling onto the already damp fabric of the couch cushions beneath your hips.
"Look at that," Yoongi whispered, a low rumble of dark satisfaction vibrating in his chest as he stared at the messy sight. He leaned down, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to your lips, tasting the salt of your skin. “You did so fucking good for your first time, baby." He praises you.
The raven collapsed back down onto you, shifting his legs so they tangled thoroughly with yours on the snug space of the couch. He tucked his face right back into your neck, wrapping his arms securely around your torso to anchor you against his chest. He didn't care about the state of his slid down jeans or the dampness of your dress; he just wanted to hold you against him as the adrenaline finally began to fade and he began to fall asleep.
Your mind was a chaotic tangle of thoughts you couldn't quite straighten out. The reality of what just happened was crashing down in waves. You had just lost your virginity. And it wasn't just to anyone; it was to Yoongi, the last person you ever expected to be in this position with.
But beneath that realization lay the heaviest weight of all; Jungkook.
The thought of his name sent a sharp, confusing pang straight through your chest. You had cheated. The word felt ugly, completely incompatible with the hazy, warm weight of Yoongi resting on top of you, yet it was undeniably there. Did you regret it? The alcohol and smoke clouded your brain too much to give you a straight answer. There was no clarity to be found right now, no easy wave of guilt or sudden rush of justification. There was no going back from this. No fixing it, no pretending it was a mistake born purely out of a messy night. The moment you had agreed to come to Yoongi’s warehouse, the trajectory of everything had shifted.
All you knew for certain, as you stared blankly into the dimly lit room with Yoongi’s heartbeat thumping steady against your ribs, was that everything was about to change.
summary: rough sex, blood money, drugs, gang related activity, and murder; five things you never predicted to experience in your simple life. not until you opened your mouth and caught his attention.
warnings: smut, gunplay, drugs, drug addiction, dark!yoongi, drug lord!yoongi, strong language, gang violence, blood and gore, murder, manipulation, possessive/obsessive behavior, abuse, cheating, angst, fluff, dubcon, implied noncon (not from yoongi but within his gang with his knowledge), 18+, minors dni.
pairings: gang leader!yoongi x f.reader.
word count: 13.6k.
chapter playlist: knocking on heaven’s door - bob dylan
masterlist directory
You stared back at the brunet, unable to form words. Two days of absolute silence, and here he was so suddenly. You didn't know whether to be angry or relieved at his presence. "I, uh, went to Makoto, but your boss said you never came in for your shift or called," he said, rubbing the back of his neck. "Thought I'd come make sure you were okay."
“A call would have sufficed, if you actually cared,” you stated flatly. You decided both emotions were valid. You were undeniably happy to see Jungkook, but the sight of him only magnified your anger. It shouldn't have taken him two days to finally reach out.
"I thought it was better to give you space after what happened. I know how you are, y/n."
You let out a short scoff. "How I am?" you questioned, furrowing your eyebrows, your voice slightly rising. “Go ahead and enlighten me on how I am, Jungkook.”
Jungkook sighed, his lip ring clanking against his teeth as he pulled his bottom lip inward. “Can we talk inside? I really don’t wanna do this in your hallway.” He pleaded. Jungkook was never truly the confrontational type, which contradicted you because you in fact were the confrontational type.
You huffed, brushing past him to unlock your apartment door. Once both of you were inside, you shut the door firmly. Jungkook immediately walked to your couch and sat down, patting the cushion beside him as an invitation for you to sit. You hesitated for a brief moment before giving in, placing your plushy and purse on the table.
You sat beside him, hands clasped tightly in your lap, avoiding eye contact. The tension in the silence was thick. “So... why weren't you at work today? It's not like you to miss a shift.” he finally started. You fiddled with your fingers, scrambling for an excuse for your absence. “I….umm… went to the Daegu fair,” you admitted, only fabricating the truth just a tad. "With Mina."
Jungkook tilted his head, a frown forming his lips. "You did a no-call, no-show to go to the Daegu fair? What were you thinking?" he asked, ready to lecture you. You certainly weren't in the mood to hear it, especially from him. Not now. It felt like he was deliberately trying to pivot away from the real issue at hand; your relationship and his cold, dead silence.
"I was thinking I wanted to have some fun, and not sit at work wondering why the man I care about ghosted me for two days." you snapped. This brought the brunet down a notch, making him exhale heavily. The room fell silent once again, but not for very long. "Look, I'm sorry," Jungkook said. "It's just... we've been best friends since we were kids and–"
“And you still only see me as that." You cut him off.
"No," he countered sternly. "What we have is special because of our history. We got to be best friends before having a romantic connection, which is rare. You're not like any girl I've dated. You’re much more to me. I don't want to mess this up. I don't wanna lose you. I can't. The thought terrifies me because I’m losing more than my girl, I’m losing my best friend too,"
Your eyes finally connected with his, your demeanor softening at his words. "I want our first time to be special," he continued. "I don't want it to be random sex like I’m used to. I want your first experience to be your best experience.”
You sighed, nodding your head. "You're right. It should be special..." you replied. You understood Jungkook's view; it was sweet, and it showed just how much he truly valued you. You appreciated his sentiment, but you were still frustrated. Sexually frustrated. You were ready for more. It was easy for Jungkook to sideline sex when he’d been having it since high school. Meanwhile, you, the innocent virgin, had spent all this time waiting for your first crush to choose you. Now that he finally has, the reward feels slightly lackluster.
"I'm sorry," you finally said. You weren't entirely sure if you meant it, but for now, you just wanted to put the drama behind you. Jungkook smiled, taking your hands in his, and you gladly let him. "I missed you," he said. "It doesn't feel right not talking to you every day."
You returned a genuine smile. "The feeling is mutual. But if you ever ghost me again, prepare for me to come to the tattoo shop with a vengeance." You playfully squinted your eyes at him.
Jungkook chuckled, nodding his head. "I wouldn't expect anything less." He says. After a moment of silence the brunet’s eyes flicked behind you, catching sight of the new plush toy sitting on top of the table. “Nice plushie,” he smirked, knowing all too well how much you loved anything Hello Kitty related. “Guess you and Mina had a good time at the fair, huh?”
You followed his gaze to the plushie. “Yeah… surprisingly, I did.” You chewed on your bottom lip, your mind suddenly miles away, fixed on the raven.
"Well, well, well. Look who decided to show up today after ditching without a call," Jimin said, a smirk plastered on his face as he stepped out of the kitchen with two glasses of water. "The old man's gonna have a field day." He was joking, but there was truth to it.
You sighed, biting the inside of your cheek. You knew a lecture was coming, along with an endless amount of dish and bathroom duty. Possibly even termination. Mr. Kim hated when staff called in, but he especially loathed it when they didn’t.
"I’m nervous as it is," you said. "Did Mr. Kim say anything to you about me?"
"To me? No," Jimin replied, setting the glasses down at the table he was waiting on. "But you know how he is about punctuality. No exceptions."
You rubbed the nape of your neck and slowly shuffled toward the back of the kitchen to meet your doom.
“Good luck!” Jimin teased.
God, what would you do if you lost your job at Makoto? The job market was brutal right now, and finding new employment wouldn’t be easy. You were terrified of the domino effect that would follow.
Mr. Kim noticed you immediately upon entering the kitchen, but to your surprise, he only nodded in your direction. "Good evening, y/n. Glad to see you came in today," he said calmly before dusting his hands on his apron. “Hurry up and clock in, Jimin could use some assistance out there.”
Your eyebrows scrunched. ‘That’s it? No yelling? No speech? What's his angle?’ you wondered hesitantly.
“O-oh, uh… of course…” you stammered. You grabbed your time card and swiped it through the clock. You glanced back at Mr. Kim, who handled the orders just as he did on any other day. But today shouldn’t have been like ‘any other day’. It should have been a day of reckoning for ditching work yesterday, yet Mr. Kim didn’t even seem to care. You decided that you would just rip the bandage off and bring it up yourself.
"Hey, Mr. Kim, about not calling in yesterday…" you started, but the old man instantly cut you off.
"Don't worry about it, kid! It happens." He said, quickly dismissing the conversation.
You stood stunned. This was certainly unlike your boss. Mr. Kim could be kind when he wanted to be, but when it came to work, he was a stickler for the rules. As Jimin had said, there were no exceptions.
You wondered what could have made him so nonchalant about a no-call, no-show, until suddenly, Yoongi's voice flashed through your mind.
"Don't stress about that, princess. I'II deal with your boss after the fact."
Could it be that Yoongi had actually followed through? It was the only explanation for Mr. Kim's uncharacteristic behavior. Even though the raven had said he’d handle it, you hadn’t honestly believed him. You didn’t think Yoongi could actually hold that kind of power over someone as headstrong as Mr. Kim. It left you wondering what else, exactly, that man could control.
Nevertheless, you smiled slightly to yourself, knowing he had used that power to keep your job intact. You grabbed an apron from the hook, along with a notepad and pen, preparing to head out to the floor. Just then, Jimin walked in, his expression uneasy. “What’s your problem?” You ask him, an eyebrow perched.
"T-table three wants you to take their order instead of me," the brunet said.
You didn't even need to question why; his unease told you exactly who was sitting at table three. You nodded, tying your apron around your waist. Jimin exchanged a look with Mr. Kim behind you before you headed out to the dining floor. To your lack of surprise, there sat Yoongi and Joon across from each other. You poked the inside of your cheek with your tongue, a small smile trying to peek through.
"There's my favorite waitress," the raven smiled as you approached. His left arm rested casually on the back of his chair.
You squinted at him, folding your arms across your chest. "Looks like someone’s too anxious to wait until tonight," you stated.
Yoongi shrugged. “What can I say? You make me feel like I’ve got a school crush. I want to see you whenever I can.” He smirked, biting down on his bottom lip.
You rolled your eyes, but inside, butterflies were already beginning to flutter. “Are you two here to order, or are you just here to cause trouble?” you asked, quickly changing the subject. You didn’t want to look like you actually enjoyed Yoongi’s presence, not with Jimin lurking nearby. He had a big mouth, and before you knew it, Jungkook and Mina would find out that there was something unspoken forming between you and Yoongi.
“I don’t know about the boss man here, but I could go for some Jjajangmyeon and a cool bottle of soju. Don’t bring me any of that warm shit,” Joon said.
You eyed the lanky man. “We don’t serve alcohol here,” you stated dryly.
“Well, that’s a fucking buzzkill. What do y’all serve here?”
“You can try looking at the menu in front of you.” You snarked. You couldn’t help the smart remarks when it came to Joon. He simply rubbed you the wrong way, Yoongi’s right-hand man or not. You didn’t like him.
Joon smirked, your snarkiness having no bearing on him. “Someone’s testy today. This isn’t very good customer service,” he joked, though he picked up the menu nonetheless. He scanned through the drink section before closing it. “I’ll take a cola,” he said.
You wrote down his order, then turned to Yoongi, who seemingly hadn’t taken his eyes off you the entire time. “And you?”you questioned the raven.
“I’ll take some water, sweetheart.” The raven said.
You nodded, not needing to write it down. As you collected their menus from the table, you hesitated. “Hey, um…” you started, keeping your voice low. “Thanks for actually talking to my boss. You seriously saved me from getting fired.”
Yoongi tilted his head slightly. “You said ‘actually’ as though you had no faith in my word. You didn’t think I’d talk to your boss?” he questioned.
“You want me to be honest?”
“That’s all I ever want you to be with me, sweetheart.”
“Okay then,” you nodded, keeping your voice hushed so you wouldn't be overheard. “No. I didn’t think you’d talk to my boss. I thought it was just a little lie you told to get me to come with you yesterday.”
The raven smirked at your doubt. “One thing you need to learn about me, princess, is that my word is bond. When I say I’m gonna do something, I do it.” He held his smirk, but there was something beneath it now, something entirely serious. Dangerous, even.
And you liked it. Shamefully.
"Noted," you said, your gaze locked with his dark, intense eyes. Before the moment could stretch any further, the bell above the front door chimed, snapping you back to reality. "'I’ll be right with you-" The customer service voice died in your throat. You froze as you turned around, coming face to face with a familiar brunet.
"J-Jungkook?" You stuttered. “What’re you doing here?”
Jungkook's smile vanished as he looked past you, spotting Yoongi sitting there. He squinted, a hard edge replacing his previously soft expression. "I'm on my break... thought I'd come in to see you." His eyes remained glued to the raven. "What the hell is he doing here?"
You looked back at Yoongi, his eyes dark and intimidating as they always were, his glare on Jungkook vicious. "They're, uh... ordering food," you said. You could feel people in the restaurant starting to stare, Jimin included.
"I think they need to order food somewhere else," Jungkook spat, his gaze hardening on Yoongi.
"Is that right?" The raven finally spoke, his voice dangerously monotone.
"You trying to start somethin', chief?" Joon chimed in, shifting in his seat, fully prepared to back Yoongi. “Because we don’t have a problem sending you out on a stretcher.”
You shivered at those words. Knowing there was no way this situation would end well for Jungkook, you quickly stepped in. Grabbing the bushy haired man by the arm, you pushed him away from their table and steered him toward an empty one across the restaurant."Are you trying to get yourself jumped?" you asked, keeping your voice low as you questioned the brunet.
Jungkook scoffed. "I'm not scared of those pussies like everyone else. Especially when it comes to you." He finally pulled his gaze away from their table and onto you. "You okay? Is he still harassing you?" he asked.
You sighed. You understood Jungkook's frustration with seeing Yoongi. After everything you had told him about your first encounter with the raven, plus his murdered friend having some type of connection to him, you could imagine why he was so bold.
"They're really just here to eat, and no matter how much disdain I have for someone, I still have to act on a professional level while at work. I don't think fighting helps my case."
The brunet ran his fingers through his hair, sighing deeply. "You're right. I'm sorry," he apologized, his hand reaching out to gently rub your arm.
"Don't worry about it, okay? Just sit down and order something. You came here for me, right?" You smiled, hoping that would bring his mood back up. The brunet grinned back, unable to stay angry when you were in his presence. "Right," he agreed, taking a seat at the table you had escorted him to."My focus is on you, beautiful." He placed a hand on your hip.
You could feel the cold stare burning into your back, the raven glaring daggers in your direction.You didn't bother to look back as you kept your attention on Jungkook.
"Hey, waitress," Yoongi's voice suddenly chimed behind you. You turned around. "Is this how your boss runs his establishment? How about instead of fucking around with your little boyfriend, you get us our orders?" There was venom in his voice when he spat the word “boyfriend”. Of course, no one could spot it except you– and maybe Joon. You scowled at the raven for calling you out so loudly.
"Hey," Jimin whispered, quickly walking up to Jungkook's table. He nudged your shoulder. "You take care of their orders, and I'll take Jungkook's. I don't wanna know what those guys will do if they have to wait any longer."
You complied, not wanting to take that chance and find out either. Leaving Jimin to handle Jungkook, you headed back into the kitchen and ripped the order from your notepad to hook it onto the ticket line. "The hell is going on out there?" Mr. Kim asked, frowning.
"Nothing anymore. Jimin and I have it under control," you assured him as you grabbed two cups from the dish shelf. Moving toward the beverage station, you filled both cups with ice before pouring their respective drinks. You marched back out to the dining room and set the cups down on Yoongi's table. "Satisfied?" you asked the raven.
"Not nearly," he grimaced. "What would satisfy me right now would leave you devastated, sweetheart." His voice was calm, but his words were dark. You chose not to push, truly not wanting to know what he meant by that. "Your food should be out shortly," you said to Joon, deliberately avoiding the raven’s eyes.
You turned around, leaving Yoongi and Joon alone at their table. Spotting Jungkook waving you over, you walked up to the grinning brunet with a playful sigh. “Yes, trouble?” you asked. He rolled his eyes at the newfound nickname. “I was thinking… How about a movie night tonight? I think we’re overdue for one.” he suggested. You raised an eyebrow, crossing your arms over your chest. “You mean a repeat of last time? Because unless my memory is failing me, that was an absolute disaster.”
"Yeah, well, this time will be different. After our talk last night, I'm hoping we both have a better understanding of our feelings," he said, taking your hand in his. You tilted your head, biting the inside of your cheek. Even if you did want to give in to his movie night plan, you couldn't. You already had plans with a certain black haired man tonight.
"You know, I'd love to, but I already made plans with Mina tonight,” you lied, offering a convincing smile. "She wants us to have a whole girls' night in. Makeup, nails, talking about our relationships. The whole works."
Jungkook pouted. "First the fair, now a girls' night? I'm beginning to think Mina is stealing my girl." He joked.
You giggled, rolling your eyes at the brunet. "Don't be so dramatic," you said. "We always have tomorrow night."
“Fine,” Jungkook relented, tossing a look of fake defeat your way. “I didn't wanna watch your cheesy movies tonight anyway.”
You gasped, slapping a hand over your heart as if deeply offended. “You love my cheesy movies.”
"No, I love you. There's a difference," Jungkook said.
The words hung heavily in the air between you, and you instantly froze. The words echoed in your mind, catching you entirely off guard. Jungkook had never confessed his feelings so plainly before. You had a lifetime of history together as best friends, but hearing him say those words out loud changed everything in an instant. You stared at him, speechless. Realizing exactly what he had just admitted, Jungkook's eyes widened, and a dark blush rapidly overtook his face.
"S-so tomorrow night?" he stammered, his voice cracking slightly as he scratched the nape of his neck in pure embarrassment.
"Uh-yeah... yeah... see you tomorrow night," you stuttered, your voice trailing off.
You had absolutely no idea how to respond, and your only saving grace was a nearby customer waving you over to request their bill. Seizing the lifeline, you quickly retreated to their table and left Jungkook alone with his thoughts. The moment your back was turned, the brunet squeezed his eyes shut, burying his face in his hands as he cussed quietly to himself.
You grabbed the customer's card from the table and turned to go swipe it at the kiosk, but before you could move any further, you noticed Yoongi and Joon preparing to leave. You furrowed your brows; Joon's food hadn't even been served yet. "Um... hello? Did you forget you ordered food?" you questioned the lanky man as they walked past you.
Yoongi didn't say a word, his expression unreadable as he moved toward the exit.
"I think I'll pass on the ramen, Wonder Woman. The atmosphere in this joint kinda makes me sick," Joon said.
You poked the inside of your cheek with your tongue as you watched them head for the door, but they didn't leave without throwing one last vicious glare at Jungkook. Jungkook, of course, glared right back.
"See ya around, chief," Joon scowled in his direction before they finally walked out into the street.
You hadn’t received a single text from Yoongi by the time your shift ended. You had been entirely certain the raven would be eagerly waiting the exact second you clocked out, but an hour had already passed since you’d been off. Trying to shake the growing unease, you showered and slipped into a cute little floral dress. It was a stark contrast to the workout outfit you had worn to that first so called “kickback”.
You sighed, staring down at your blank phone screen. Still, there was no call, no text. What was his issue? One minute he’s telling you how he wants to see you whenever he can, and now he was acting like he couldn't care less about the plans he had made. He couldn't possibly be upset about Jungkook, could he? How childish if he was.
A soft knock suddenly sounded at your front door.
‘Finally,’ you thought, a wave of relief washing over you. ‘Took him long enough.’
You walked into the living room and peeked through the peephole. You were fully expecting to see a familiar mess of long, dark hair, but instead, your neighbor, Hoseok, stood on the other side. You hadn't seen much of him since you found out about his history with Yoongi. Pushing down your surprise, you opened the door and greeted him. "Hoseok, hey," you smiled.
Hoseok returned the small smile, but his expression remained entirely serious. "Hey, y/n. Do you mind if I come in?" He asks. You hesitated for a moment, glancing back toward your bedroom where your phone sat in total silence, almost as if Yoongi might choose this exact second to call you."It won't take too long," Hoseok assured you, his voice gentle but firm, as if he had read your mind completely.
You nodded, opening the door wider for him to enter your apartment before closing it behind him. Hoseok stood there in the entryway, his hands shoved deep into his pockets. You had never seen him look so serious; it was actually a little scary. Whenever you ran into him around the building, Hoseok always had a bright smile on his face. Seeing Yoongi that night really seemed to have shattered his entire personality.
“So, how do you know Yoongi?" Hoseok asked abruptly.
"Uh.." You recounted the moment you had first met the raven, remembering how close you had been to stabbing Joon with a pair of chopsticks until Yoongi intervened. "I met him at my job not long ago." You rubbed your arm awkwardly, completely refusing to go into full detail.
"Do you owe him money or something? Are you safe? Is he forcing you to sleep with him?"
He was completely overwhelming you with the sudden barrage of questions. You shook your head quickly, cutting him off before he could say anything else. "Hoseok, no. I don't owe him money, and I'm fine. Yoongi and I are acquaintances, just like I told you last time. That's all."
He furrowed his eyebrows deeply. "That's all? Y/n, you're a sweet girl. I've lived across the hall from you long enough to know that. Why would you ever get into the mix with the likes of him? Do you know who he is? What he does? What he's done to people? Yoongi is dangerous."
"And you know that firsthand, don't you?" you snapped.
Hoseok froze.
"Yeah, I know you used to work for Yoongi. He told me," you continued, crossing your arms. "I also know you two were friends."
Hoseok clenched his jaw, the silence stretching tight between you. "Yeah, we were. Me, Yoongi, and Joon. We grew up together, started this shit together. But Yoongi got dark. Got money hungry. Wanted to be something more powerful. Now he's a monster... maybe he'd always been a monster deep down." Hoseok's voice trailed off, his eyes clouding over as his mind reminisced about a past he had tried so hard to leave behind. About the friend he once had.
"You said you grew up with Joon too," you countered. "He's shown me he's more of a monster than Yoongi, yet you hold more disdain for Yoongi. Why?" When you had first met Joon, he was ready to attack an old couple just for a restaurant table, and then he had turned on you for standing up to him.
Hoseok scoffed. "Because I expected this from Joon. Maybe not to this extent, but Joon was always troubled. He only started hanging out with us after Yoongi met him in juvie. And Yoongi didn't truly start getting into trouble until his parents died. He was a little shit back then, sure, but definitely not the cold hearted monster he is now."
You remembered the raven mentioning his parents to you. How they had died in a house fire after his drunk of a father left a stove burning.
You sighed. None of this truly answered why Hoseok was so fearful of Yoongi now. They had started their empire together, so Hoseok clearly hadn't had any qualms about the lifestyle back then. Why the sudden change? Curiosity burned in your chest, and you opened your mouth to ask, but before you could, your phone started to ring from the other room.
You rushed to your bedroom, snatching the device off the bed. It was Yoongi. "Is that him?" Hoseok called out from the living room. Ignoring his question, you swiped the screen and brought the phone to your ear. "Hello?"
"I'm outside. Come down, and don't take too long," the raven demanded, his tone clipped. He hung up before you could even draw a breath to reply. You clicked your tongue in annoyance, pulling the phone away from your ear. "Listen, Hoseok, I can't sit here and talk about this right now. I have to go," you said, grabbing your purse off the nightstand.
"That was him, wasn't it?" he asked again, stepping toward your bedroom doorway. You offered no answer. "Look, I know I'm just your neighbor, and I can't tell you what to do, but I don't think you should keep hanging around him."
You shook your head, completely unready to process his warnings right now, but he remained persistent.
"Why do you care so much about what I do?" you retorted, eyeing the brunet. "Why do you care if I hang out with Yoongi?"
"Because you remind me of her."
You furrowed your eyebrows. "Of her? Who's her?" Hoseok's eyes began to water, a raw pain breaking through his serious facade. "The only woman I've ever loved. She's gone... because of him. He took her just to get back at me, and he got away with it."
"What? What do you mean?"
Before Hoseok could answer, your phone buzzed violently in your hand. It was a text from Yoongi, undoubtedly urging you to hurry the hell up. "I have to go." You muttered, deliberately putting the terrifying conversation aside. You walked out to the entryway and opened your apartment door, gesturing for Hoseok to leave first.
He exited into the dimly lit corridor, but he didn't head toward his own apartment. Instead, he stood out in the hallway, his sorrowful eyes heavy upon you as you locked your door. He stared at you like this was going to be his last time seeing you. “Later, Hoseok.” You say, quickly disappearing down your hall.
The cool outside breeze brushed against your bare skin the moment you stepped out of the building. You immediately recognized Yoongi's old car parked at the curb instead of the sleek red one you two had ridden to the fair in. Walking around the hood, you opened the door and climbed into the passenger seat.
"Took you long enough," the raven grumbled, not even looking at you as he shifted into drive. "I don't have the patience to be kept waiting."
You grimaced at his sour attitude. The absolute nerve of him to complain about a few minutes when he had just kept you waiting for a full hour. You pulled your seatbelt across your chest and buckled it in, and the car instantly surged forward into the night. Silently, you side eyed him, taking in his outfit. He wore a simple black hoodie with dark jeans, a chain clipped to his belt loops. He was a man who clearly adored his silver; another chain hung around his neck, and a couple of silver rings on his fingers. His long, dark hair was artfully messy, framing his face.
You had been expecting the raven to compliment your dress, as he usually never missed an opportunity to praise your appearance, but he stayed entirely silent, keeping his eyes glued to the dark road. You pulled your bottom lip between your teeth. It was weird not hearing Yoongi speak to you. Usually, you were the one giving him the silent treatment. Clearly, he was in a mood, so you opted against mentioning a single word of what Hoseok had just told you. Though curiosity was burning a hole in your chest, you didn’t want to piss him off any further.
Still, you decided to break the silence anyway, completely detesting the suffocating quiet inside the car. “What were you up to that took you so long?” you asked.
He looked over at you, a single sharp eyebrow raised, before turning right back toward the road without offering a word.
“Okay, don’t tell me then,” you huffed. You crossed your arms, turning your back to him to stare out the passenger window. Usually, the raven would have finally broken down and said something sarcastic by now, but instead, he simply reached forward and flicked on the radio.
You whipped your head around in total shock.
“Okay,” you started, your hand immediately darting out to slap the radio knob off. “What's your deal right now? You invited me to this stupid kickback, but now you’re acting like you wish I weren’t even here. I blew off a movie night with Jungkook to come out for you, but if you’re gonna be an asshole, then just take me home.”
Yoongi finally looked over at you, his sharp gaze cutting through the dim light of the car. “You blew off your little boyfriend to be with me?”
You nodded, suddenly finding your fingernails incredibly interesting. "I mean, you asked me first. I didn't want to blow you off after saying I'd come."
Yoongi smirked slightly, nodding his head as he looked back at the road. It was as if your words were a sort of confirmation for him. Suddenly, the atmosphere inside the car didn't feel so suffocating anymore. "You look good in that dress." The raven said.
You bit your bottom lip, turning away slightly in a desperate attempt to hide your smile.
The car pulled up to the warehouse that you'd come to know so well since getting involved with Yoongi. You noticed that, unlike last time, there weren't any people hanging out outside. No girls dressed in little to no clothing. No one smoking by the entrance. It was noticeably different from the last time.
"Am I gonna go upstairs and see a bunch of people in there?" you asked the raven, peeking out the window.
He snickered, turning off the ignition. "It's just Joon, some of my guys, and whatever bitches they brought. Just like I told you yesterday. Don't worry, sweetheart. I wouldn’t steer you wrong.” He assures you, leaning back in his seat.
"I wish you wouldn't call women 'bitches," you said, a look of dismay crossing your features.
"My apologies, princess. I'll rephrase that; whatever whores they brought." The raven smirked, leaning across the console to catch your eye. "That better for you?"
You rolled your eyes, pushing your door open to climb out into the cool night air. Yoongi follows suit. The two of you walk up the stairs to the metal door, your mind flashing to when Yoongi had pushed you against it to give you a speech about how you speak to him. He pulls open the door, letting you walk ahead. You hear laughter and music as you walk up the stairs, and the smell of weed wafts your senses. As you reach the main room, you’re amazed by how much different it looks without the load of people blocking every which way.
"Wonder Woman, you came through again!" Joon shouted, raising a solo cup high in his hand.
He was sitting amongst the two guys you recognized from last time, along with two others you hadn't seen before. Each of them had a girl sitting either on their lap or squeezed next to them on the couch. You noticed Sana sitting among the group, though she didn't appear to be there with any specific guy. Her sharp eyes locked onto you the exact moment you walked in with Yoongi.
‘Oh great, she's here…’ you thought dreadfully. This was going to be an absolute blast.
Yoongi walked toward an empty space on the couch, dropping down and patting the cushion right next to him. You sat down beside him, deliberately avoiding Sana's gaze as she continued to stare you down. "Here, have a sip." Joon passed you his cup.
You took it, looking down at the clear alcoholic beverage sloshing inside. "What's this?" you asked him.
"It's tequila."
"Yeah, your favorite. Remember?" Sana asked from across the room, her voice dripping with mock sweetness as she clearly referenced the night you had gotten drunk and danced right here in this very room.
You eyed the bitter woman, refusing to let her get under your skin. Without a word, you tipped your head back and downed the drink. The harsh liquor burned the back of your throat as it went down, but you didn't let your expression falter.
Joon hooted loudly, cheering your compliance as you handed him back the empty cup. "Oh, Y/n, you're my kind of woman, doll," Joon laughed.
"Yeah, she surely is somethin", the raven said, resting his arm along the back of the couch behind you. You noticed them passing a blunt around the circle. Once Joon took a couple of hits, he offered it directly to you. You shook your head quickly, gesturing for him to pass it to Yoongi instead.
"Oh, c’mon, it's just weed," Joon insisted, still holding it out. “It ain’t gonna kill you.”
"That's fine. I've just never smoked it before," you said awkwardly, suddenly feeling like a complete amateur sitting in a room full of seasoned drug dealers and users.
"Of course you haven't. You're too much of a goody-goody," Sana remarked. The other girls cracked up, making a sudden wave of heat creep up your neck.
"Nothing wrong with being a good girl. A lot of us men admire that," Yoongi smirked, stepping in as he took the blunt from Joon's fingers. "Leaves room for corruption."
"I'm just scared of how it'll make me feel, that’s all." You admitted softly.
"It's like alcohol, but a different type of intoxication. Here, I'll help you." The raven shifted his weight, leaning in close as he took a long drag. Holding the smoke trapped in his lungs, he gestured with his free hand for you to move closer. You hesitated for a heartbeat, your breath catching, before leaning forward slowly. Yoongi stopped when he was mere inches away from your face, his dark gaze locking onto your mouth before he began to exhale the smoke, breathing it out little by little. Though you were skeptical, you leaned in the final inch, inhaling the gray smoke as it retreated past his lips.
A harsh cough ripped from your throat the second the smoke hit the back of your sensitive lungs. Yoongi moved back just a fraction, a lazy, satisfied grin spreading across his face as he took in your reaction. "See?" he smirked, his voice dropping an octave. "Corrupting you already."
You stared at the raven, bringing your bottom lip between your teeth. The two of you locked eyes, completely forgetting that there was an entire group of people watching your every move.
"Alright, alright, get a room already," Joon teased, breaking the spell you were in.
Yoongi kept his eyes firmly on you, entirely unfazed by the audience. "I wouldn't mind getting a room," he said, slowly running his tongue over his bottom lip. You swallowed the lump in your throat, suddenly feeling the raven's free hand begin to roam up your exposed thigh.
You quickly stood to your feet, breaking the contact before he could go any further. "Um, I think I could use another drink. I'm assuming the bottle is in the kitchen?" you asked, pointing toward the doorway and letting out an awkward, nervous laugh.
Yoongi simply nodded, his grin turning cocky at your sudden fluster, clearly overjoyed at being the sole cause of it. You quickly shuffled away and escaped into the kitchen, feeling the anxious tightness in your chest finally begin to disperse the moment you were separated from the heavy atmosphere of the group.
Once your heartbeat finally settled, you grabbed an empty solo cup from the counter. Your eyes scanned the kitchen, landing on a bottle of Don Julio. You grabbed it, pulling the cork out with a sharp pop.
"You and Yoongi look super cozy together." The sudden voice startled you. You turned around to see Sana standing in the entryway, her arms crossed tight over her chest.
"So?" you said, turning your back to her again to pour the tequila into your cup.
"So, I thought you were very adamant about not being into him. Remember?"
You whipped back around to face her. "I'm not," you snapped, your tone sharp. "He just invited me, so I came. That's it."
It was a bold faced lie; anyone in that room could feel the electric tension between you and the raven. You tried your best to hide it, but then he went and pulled stunts like he just did on the couch, and all your defenses came crashing down. You were attracted to Yoongi. That was a fact you could no longer deny to yourself. But deep down, you knew nothing could ever come of it. You were with Jungkook.
You just hated that you had to keep reminding yourself of that.
“You can say whatever you want, convince yourself of whatever you need, but you can’t convince me,” Sana snarled, her voice dropping to a harsh, mocking tone. “I mean, I don’t blame you. He’s Min Yoongi. Out of all those guys sitting out there, he has a presence that no woman can resist. Clearly not even you, Miss Goody-Goody. I honestly can’t wait to say I told you so.”
With one last judgmental look, she turned on her heel and swept out of the entryway, leaving you completely alone in the quiet kitchen. You quickly downed the burning liquid in your cup, letting it sear your throat as you emptied every last drop before immediately pouring yourself another one. Just as the liquor splashed into the bottom of the solo cup, you heard heavy footsteps approaching from behind. You turned slightly, watching the raven slide effortlessly into the kitchen.
"Slow down there, lightweight," he teased, a grin tugging at the corner of his lips as he took in the sight of the bottle in your hand. "I don't need you blacking out here."
You glared at him, throwing back the second drink before slamming the cup down onto the counter. "I'm ready to leave."
"What?" The raven raised an eyebrow, his lazy grin instantly vanishing. "We just got here," he stated, pointing out the obvious.
"Yeah, well, I'm not feeling quite like a people person tonight," you muttered, your mind in a million different places. First, there was Jungkook saying he loved you. Then, Hoseok's chilling warning. And now Sana with her crazy jealousy, clearly nowhere near over her past with Yoongi. It was all too much. You’d rather just have been alone to process everything, but Yoongi remained persistent about you staying.
“You don’t have to be. It won’t be too long before the guys dip out to get their nut off,” the raven said, his slow grin returning. He stepped a fraction closer to you, tilting his head to catch your eyes. “Then it’ll just be me and you… unless I’m included in your desire to not be around people right now?”
Naturally, you didn’t mind being around just Yoongi. He was the sole reason you had even come in the first place. But there was always a stubborn moral compass ringing inside your head, reminding you that any feelings you harbored toward the raven were wrong; a complete betrayal not only to Jungkook, but to Mina, too.
Yoongi literally sold coke to Mina's boyfriend, ruthlessly using him as one of his drug mules. Not to mention the terrifying reality that Yoongi had probably killed people, whether indirectly or by his own hands. Though, you weren't entirely sure how true that part actually was. A drug dealer? That fact was completely undeniable. But a killer? Could Yoongi truly be capable of murder? The man you had seen at the fair, the one who had looked at you with soft eyes, and shared a deep moment with you, couldn't possibly be a monster.
“Well, what about Sana?” you asked suddenly.
Yoongi raised an eyebrow, his dark eyes narrowing slightly at the random mention of Sana. “What the fuck about her?”
"She's here. Why don't you just have her keep you company?" you scowled, turning back around to pour another drink. But before you could even pop the cork out, Yoongi snatched the bottle completely out of your hand. He didn't say a word at first, his eyes locking onto yours as he deliberately set the bottle down on the counter behind him, clearing the distraction out of the way.
“Is that where this little attitude is coming from? Sana? I thought I told you I only fucked her once.”
"I don't care how many times you did. It's none of my business," you lied, keeping your voice tight as you tried to save face. "I just thought I'd make it clear that you have other options and don't need me here."
The raven stared at you for a moment.
"When are you gonna stop pretending there's nothing here and just give in to me?" Yoongi asked, his voice dropping to a low, dangerous murmur as he took another step toward you. You instinctively tried to back away from him, but the hard edge of the counter pressed against your lower back, leaving you with absolutely no space left to move.
"B-because there isn't.." you stuttered, the denial tasting like ash on your tongue.
Yoongi closed the remaining distance between you two, his hands coming down to rest on the counter on either side of your hips. You were completely sandwiched between the raven and the cold marble surface. Your heart thumped frantically against your ribs as he began to lean down toward your lips, his gaze dropping to your mouth. "There isn't?" he questioned, his breath fanning across your skin.
"Yo, Honcho–" Joon’s voice cut through the air as he popped his head through the entryway of the kitchen. He froze for a fraction of a second, taking in the sight of the two of you trapped in each other's space, before the corner of his lips pulled into a knowing smirk. “I always seem to pop in on you two at the craziest times,” he teased.
"What is it, Joon?" Yoongi's voice was rough, dripping with irritation at his second in command as he turned his head slightly to look at him, though his hands never left the counter, keeping you securely pinned.
"Me and the guys are gonna dip and handle our due diligence," Joon said, flashing a quick wink. It didn't take a scientist to figure out what he meant. It was exactly what Yoongi had predicted just minutes ago; they were heading out to get their nut off.
Yoongi nodded, but his full, dark attention immediately snapped back to you. "Is Sana still here?" he asked Joon, his eyes tracking the way your chest rose and fell.
"Yeah, she is. Why, what's up?"
"Send the bitch on her way," Yoongi said coldly.
"Say less," Joon complied, stepping backward out of the kitchen and leaving you and the raven completely alone once again.
You could hear his retreating footsteps heading back to the living room, followed shortly by the distant, muffled sound of him telling Sana it was time to go. "There. Problem solved, sweetheart," Yoongi said, finally taking a single step back from you, though his dark gaze never wavered. The raven reached over and grabbed the bottle of Don Julio, shaking it slightly in the air as a lazy smirk crept back onto his face. "Now it's just you and me. So, how about we drink and have a kickback of our own?"
"Then I tried to hop over the fence and my shirt got caught," Yoongi smirked, tucking a stray strand of his dark hair behind his ear as he recounted the first time he went to juvie.
The two of you were easily ten shots in by now, having moved the bottle from the kitchen to the living room couch. You were completely enveloped in a rare state of security. You sat comfortably against the cushions with your shoes discarded on the floor, your legs curled up tightly under you. Yoongi sat close beside you, leaning forward over his knees as he flicked a lighter to life, igniting another blunt.
You giggled at the raven's story, shaking your head. "Why didn't you just try to slip the shirt off?" you asked him.
"I was running for like thirty minutes trying to get away. At that point, I was too tired. I just said fuck it, take me," he chuckled. He shoved the lighter back into his sweatshirt pocket before taking a few deep puffs of the blunt, the tip glowing a dull orange in the dim room. "Anyway, shit happens for a reason. I wouldn't have met Joon if I didn't get caught that day."
Hearing him say it out loud made a piece of the puzzle click. You silently recalled Hoseok mentioning earlier that night that Yoongi and Joon had first crossed paths in juvie. You wanted to bring up Hoseok's crazy ramblings to Yoongi, but you decided it was best not to. Not now, at least. Not when the vibe between you was so perfectly calm and natural.
Yoongi looked over at you, extending his hand with the blunt pinched tightly between his index finger and thumb. "You wanna hit this?" he asked. You looked down at the brown wrap. You hesitated for a split second, but ultimately took the blunt from his fingers, your skin brushing against his.
Putting it to your lips, you took a few light, careful puffs, still too afraid to take massive hits the way Yoongi did. The raven smiled, his dark eyes watching you intensely, as if he expected you to choke if he wasn't being vigilant. "Thatta girl, princess. Shotgunned off of me once and now I got you smoking like a pro," he said proudly, his voice low and laced with satisfaction. You exhaled the smoke, then handed the blunt back to the raven.
"Don't get used to me doing that. I'm just enjoying the moment," you said, trying to keep your voice steady.
Yoongi shrugged, taking another slow hit from the blunt. "I'm proud either way, angel," he said.
You stiffened slightly at the nickname. You had never heard Yoongi call you that before. It was a term of endearment that belonged entirely to Jungkook. He used it all the time. Suddenly, your mind was flooded with the memory of Jungkook slipping up and saying he loved you at work earlier today, and a crushing wave of guilt washed over your chest. Here you were, hiding away and getting high with Yoongi, while Jungkook mindlessly believed you were just hanging out with Mina right now.
Yoongi's sharp eyes immediately noticed the shift, catching the exact moment you zoned out and went miles away. "You good?" he asked, his brow furrowing slightly as he studied your face. You debated on whether or not you should tell him what Jungkook had said today. Would he even care?
"Um... Jungkook said he loved me today." You looked over at the raven, your eyes searching his face to read his expression.
Yoongi ran his fingers through his dark hair, nodding his head slowly as if absorbing the news without letting it shake him. "And then what?" he asked, his voice steady as he waited for you to continue further.
"And then... nothing," you shrugged, the weight of the confession making your shoulders feel heavy. "I said nothing when he said it. I feel so horrible." You sighed, rubbing your hands over your face to shield yourself from the quiet of the room. You cared about Jungkook deeply; you had been best friends for years, and you had harbored feelings for him long before the two of you finally decided to date and test the waters. But these past few days, everything has felt entirely off between you two.
You felt... bored.
"You don't love him," Yoongi stated, his voice flat and certain, as if he personally knew your own feelings and heart better than you did.
You furrowed your eyebrows at him, your chest tightening defensively. "What?"
"You don't love him," he casually repeated. He reached over to grab an empty Solo cup from the coffee table, dropping the butt of the blunt inside.
"And how the hell would you know how I feel?" you shot back, trying to summon enough anger to mask the panic rising in your throat.
"Because you're here with me," Yoongi said, leaning back against the cushions and pinning you with an intense look. "You turned down a movie night with him to spend time with me. That alone should tell you something."
You opened your mouth to defend your actions, but the words died in your throat. You couldn't. You were here with Yoongi, and the bitter, undeniable truth was that you didn't regret the decision at all.
You were genuinely enjoying these casual conversations with him. Ever since the Daegu fair, the raven had become entirely humanized in your eyes. Even though he sold drugs and carried a dangerous, mean streak to his name, you liked him.
You liked Yoongi.
The silence in the living room stretched between you, heavy and thick with the smell of smoke, as his words settled deep into your chest. Yoongi just tracked the movement of your lips, waiting, knowing he had trapped you in a corner where lies couldn't save you. So you didn’t attempt it.
You casually looked around, admiring the decor of the warehouse and searching for absolutely anything to change the suffocating topic. Your eyes landed on an all black acoustic guitar hanging neatly on the wall right next to the loft stairs. "That's a cool guitar," you said, motioning toward it.
Yoongi pulled his gaze away from you, tracking your movement until his eyes landed on the instrument. "That's my baby right there. My mom bought it for me when I was twelve," he said, a genuine, soft smile tugging at his lips at the memory of his mother.
"You play?" you questioned, a little surprised. "I thought it was just for decoration."
"Don't insult me, sweetheart. I don't do things just for the look," he rumbled playfully. He stood up from the cushions, walking over to retrieve the guitar from its mount before coming back to sit down on the couch right beside you. Yoongi began to tune the guitar, his long fingers adjusting the pegs with practiced ease. You were completely surprised he could even function with all the alcohol and weed running through his system, but the substances didn't seem to phase him even a little bit.
The raven strummed the strings to see if the tune was to his liking, the chords ringing out deep and crisp into the high ceilings of the warehouse. Then, his fingers shifted, and he began to play.
You watched him intently. He looked completely relaxed, his dark eyes focused on the fretboard as he plucked out an all too familiar melody—one that immediately made your chest tighten and your heart feel incredibly massive.
Knocking on Heaven's Door by Bob Dylan.
That was your dad's favorite song.
You hadn't heard the song in so long, having avoided it at all costs ever since your parents died. Yet, here Yoongi was playing it, handling the notes as though he could read your heart like an open book. The raven looked up at you, his fingers never missing a single strum despite his eyes locking onto yours. You felt a single tear escape and slip down your cheek. A quiet movement that didn't go unnoticed by him.
Yoongi immediately stopped playing, flattening his palm over the strings to kill the vibration. "You okay? I didn't mean to make you emotional," he murmured, his voice dropping into something genuinely gentle.
You shook your head, sniffing softly as you tried to swallow the lump in your throat. "No, you're fine. It's just... that song you played. It reminded me of my dad, that's all. That was his favorite song," you informed him, your voice cracking slightly on the words.
A wave of sympathy softened his sharp features. He carefully set the black guitar down onto the floor, completely discarding it to move closer to you on the cushions. Reaching out, the raven gently brushed the pad of his thumb against your cheek, wiping away the stray tear. “You’re too pretty to cry,” he whispered, his thumb lingering against your skin.
Min Yoongi.
When you first met him, those eyes made you shiver. They were scary, cold, and lifeless; the devil's eyes.
Now, those exact same eyes were looking at you like you were something so precious, something so breakable that he wanted to protect you from any further damage.
The raven's lips inched closer to yours. You followed suit, your breath hitching as your eyes fluttered closed, waiting to finally feel the soft pressure of his lips against yours. When his lips finally do meet yours, it wasn’t the harsh, reckless collision you might have expected from someone like Yoongi. It was soft, slow, and desperately tender. A quiet reassurance that sent a tingle straight down your spine. The faint taste of tequila and smoke lingered between you, blurring the edges of the room until nothing else existed but the warmth of his mouth against yours.
Yoongi’s hand slid from your cheek, his long fingers gently gripping the back of your neck to hold you steady, deepening the kiss with a low, heavy breath. You melted into him, your hands finding themselves on the soft fabric of his sweatshirt as you pulled yourself closer.
Every ounce of guilt, every lingering warning from Hoseok, and the ghost of Jungkook’s confession from earlier today were entirely washed away in the dark, quiet haze of the warehouse.
You found yourself slowly being pushed backward onto the plush cushions of the couch, the fabric of your dress riding up your thighs as Yoongi settled his body over yours, positioning himself flush between your legs.
Yoongi didn't break the kiss for a single second. Instead, his mouth grew hungrier, more possessive, tracing the seam of your lips as his hands left your neck to slide down to your waist, his grip firm and steady as he anchored you to the cushions beneath him. The contrast of his heavy frame pinning you down while treating you like something entirely precious made your breath hitch against his lips, your fingers tightening into the fabric of his sweatshirt to pull him even closer.
The sudden loss of his warmth made you gasp softly as Yoongi pulled his lips away from yours. He remained settled heavily between your legs, his dark eyes locked onto you as he crossed his arms and pulled his sweatshirt over his head in one fluid motion. The silver chain around his neck clanked in the quiet room before settling against his collarbone.
He tossed the discarded sweatshirt onto the floor, leaving him in just a plain white tee. Yoongi paused for a second, his chest rising and falling with hefty breaths as he used a hand to push his messy dark locks back out of his face. The intense, protective gaze was still burning in his eyes, but now it was laced with an undeniable hunger. Leaning back forward, he closed the distance between you once again, crashing his lips back onto yours with a newfound fervor that completely stole the air from your lungs.
The raven rolled his hips against you, the sudden, friction filled pressure making a soft whimper escape your lips. His large hands held your waist securely to the cushions before he pulled his lips away once more, all the while still grinding slowly against you.
"I promise to be gentle with you if you let me," he whispered, his breath hot and ragged against your skin. His hands slid up your sides, the rough texture of his palms catching against the fabric as he began to lift your dress further. A sudden wave of nerves crashed over you at the thought, making your chest tighten. You wanted him. You desperately wanted this, but the guilt was a massive wall standing right in the way.
You had always assumed you would lose your virginity to Jungkook. It was supposed to be safe, familiar, and organically planned. But Jungkook wasn't here.
Yoongi was.
He was right here, hovering over you with a patient hunger, waiting for the words that would change everything between you two.
"Y-Yoongi, we can't. I'm with Jungko-"
The raven clamped a hand over your mouth, stopping you from finishing his name. "I don't wanna hear his fucking name right now," he growled. His hips were still grinding into you, but his pace picked up, the sudden intensity making your breath hitch beneath his palm.
The consistent, heavy motion made your panties rub against your clit, sending a tingle straight down your spine. Yoongi slowly pulled his hand away from your lips, his dark eyes burning down into yours with an absolute, possessive gravity. "Tell me you don't want this, and I'll stop," he said, his voice a low command.
You didn't offer the raven any words, just a breathless moan that tore from your throat. A sound that was absolute music to his ears. He smirked down at how needy you looked underneath him, his ego flaring at his total control over you. How could you possibly pretend to not want this when you were coming apart already, and he hadn't even been inside of you yet?
"From the looks of it, you're so deprived that all it’Il take right now is dry fucking for you to cum," he rasped, his voice dropping into a dark, filthy purr that made your stomach completely flip. You couldn't deny it; this simple action really could be enough to cause an orgasm, but deep down, you wanted to go the extra mile with him. "Do it," you whined, your hips blindly tracking his movement as you completely lost your grip on your restraint. "J-Just do it."
That was all Yoongi needed to hear. He stopped grinding into you, pulling back to undo his jeans. He didn't take them fully off, opting instead to pull them down just enough for his hard cock to spring free from his Celine boxers. Your eyes widened slightly, and you swallowed the lump in your throat as you took in the full size and length of him. He was much bigger than you had expected him to be; it was no wonder Sana had a hard time getting over him after their one night stand.
The raven hooked his fingers into the hem of your panties, pulling them down and tossing them onto the floor right next to his sweatshirt. Your dress was still bunched up around your waist, leaving you completely exposed beneath him now. You instinctively tried to close your legs to hide yourself, but with his weight still settled right between your thighs, you couldn't move.
The raven smirked down at your failed attempt to hide, his thighs easily pulling yours further apart, refusing to let you close yourself off. But as he looked down, tracking the panicked rise and fall of your chest and the way you squeezed your eyes shut tight, the smug look vanished. Seeing how scared you were dragged him back to reality, reminding him exactly what this was for you.
Your first time.
The thought alone sent a possessive rush in his veins. You weren’t like the other women he had fucked, then passed around to his crew. You were pure. Untouched. Untainted. Your walls had never been broken, and knowing he was the very first to claim you made him want to lose all control, to pin you down and slam his dick straight into you. But he fought the urge back. He was willing to take this slow. He was willing to be gentle, just like he promised. He wasn't going to force his way in. Not yet.
"Relax for me," he murmured, his voice dropping into a low purr. Bypassing his cock for now, Yoongi reached down, his long fingers finding your slick, dripping heat. He pressed the pad of his thumb against your clit, making you gasp, before he slowly slid a single finger inside of you.
The feeling of his hot skin sliding into you sent an intense, unravelling ache straight to your core. Your inner walls clenched down around him, instantly tight and resistant to the sudden intrusion. Yoongi hissed softly at the brutal friction, the muscle in his jaw feathering as he held himself still. He didn't pull back; instead, he kept his finger buried deep inside you to let your body adapt, while the pad of his thumb began working in small, agonizingly slow circles to coax you open.
A mixture of pain and pleasure flooded your senses. You had never actually inserted anything inside of yourself before, only ever rubbing your clit when you were alone and horny, so this deep, stretching was completely overwhelming. The intensity of the feeling made it impossible to listen to his voice, let alone try to relax.
"Look at me," Yoongi growled, his voice dropping into a rough command as he noticed your breathing hitch. He pressed his thumb a little firmer against your clit, trying to ground you through the sensory overload. "I know it hurts a little, but you need to breathe for me. Let it slip in and out."
Your eyes flutter open upon his command as you try to breathe as told. Slowly, he began to curl his finger inside you, testing your limits and forcing your tight depths to widen for him. The sudden internal hook against your walls completely shattered your concentration, dragging a high, helpless whine from your throat. Your back arched slightly off the couch cushions, your hands clawing blindly into the fabric beside your head as your muscles instinctively clamped down once more around his finger.
Yoongi hissed again through his teeth, his knuckles turning white where his hand rested against the armrest behind your head. The crushing grip of your body around his finger was testing the absolute limits of his control, but he didn't back off. Instead, his gaze darkened with a relentless dominance. "I told you to breathe," he rasped, his voice dropping an octave, rough and completely devoid of room for negotiation.
He leaned more of his weight over you, his lean frame crowding you down and effectively trapping you flat against the cushions. His free hand moved from the armrest to slide up the side of your neck, his thumb bracing firmly under your jaw to tilt your face up. He didn't hurt you, but the grip was ironclad, forcing your eyes right back to his.
With you completely pinned beneath him, the pad of his thumb pressed down hard against your swollen clit, no longer stroking in gentle circles, but applying a heavy, flattening pressure that sent a sudden ache straight through your pelvis. He held it there, demanding your total submission.
"Stop fighting it," he commanded, his eyes burning into yours as he tilted his finger a fraction deeper against your tight walls. "If you can’t take one finger, how’re you supposed to take this dick, huh?” His grip tightens slightly on the side of your neck. “Huh?” he repeated, demanding your answer.
“I-I’m sorry…” you stammered, embarrassment flooding your chest as the weight of his standards settled heavily over you.
Yoongi shook his head at your apology. “Don’t apologize to me, babygirl. Just take it.”
The pet name hits you like a physical shock, melting through the sharp sting of the entrance and sending a completely different kind of heat pooling between your thighs. Hearing him call you that while his frame pinned you to the couch cushions made your heart hammer against your chest. Your fingers twitched against the fabric beside your head, your body instinctively wanting to soften under the sudden warmth of his praise, even as the fullness of his finger remained buried deep inside you, awaiting your compliance.
Your breathing finally began to stutter out in a long, trembling exhale, your chest sinking as you forced yourself to yield to his command. The tense, defensive coil in your hips slowly dissolved into the cushions, allowing the walls of your core to soften and untangle around his finger.
Yoongi watched the change happen in real time, his eyes tracking the exact moment the panic left your expression and your body opened up for him. A low, approving rumble vibrated deep in his chest as the tight friction around his hand gave way to an accommodating heat. "Good girl." he murmured, his voice dropping a quiet praise that made your stomach flutter.
The raven didn't hesitate. Seizing the moment your body relaxed, he slid his thumb out from under your jaw and used his free hand to firmly spread your legs a little wider, anchoring you in place. With a smooth shift of his knuckles, he aligned a second finger against your opening and pushed it straight inside, pairing it alongside the first before immediately driving them deep.
The sudden, thick invasion turned into a heavy, rhythmic thrusting that completely took your breath away. He set a demanding pace right from the start, his wrist moving with practiced precision as his fingers slid all the way in and pulled back just enough to drive right back into your heat. A choked gasp caught in your throat as the friction of two fingers moving deep inside of you stretched your newly softened depths to their absolute limit, the steady, relentless tempo turning the initial ache into an overwhelming fullness.
“Oh fuck–” you cried, your hand mindlessly reaching out to try to grab at his wrist to stop him, but Yoongi smacked it away before you could.
“Don’t touch me,” he growled, the sharp reprimand cutting right through your haze as his fingers kept up their relentless rhythm inside you. Your hand dropped back onto the cushion, your fingers twitching helplessly against the fabric as the pace he was driving into you completely shattered your defenses. Yoongi didn't look down; his dark eyes stayed locked on your face, watching the way your lips parted and your chest heaved with every deep, sliding stroke of his hand.
The slick stretch of two fingers moving in such a demanding, unbothered tempo was turning your embarrassment into a pure, frantic need. He was stretching you out completely, filling you so thoroughly that every push of his wrist sent a hot wave of pressure straight through your hips, forcing you to take every bit of the pace he set.
The relentless, deep pace he was driving into you was rapidly breaking your body down, forcing a thick moisture to coat his skin. Within moments, the fullness of his two fingers began to pump your arousal out, the glossy wetness overflowing your tight opening until it completely drenched his fingers and smeared across the back of his hand.
Yoongi let out a low, gritty sound at the wet squelch of his movements echoing in the quiet room as his knuckles repeatedly pressed against your drenched entrance. The messy, excessive warmth of your own body coating his hand only seemed to make him get rougher, using your own lubrication to drive his fingers even deeper, thoroughly stretching you out until you were dripping against his skin with every single stroke.
The raven’s dark eyes narrowed as he tracked the erratic shudder of your chest, his fingers still ruthlessly working inside you to draw out every drop of your wetness. The sight of you completely undone, trembling on the verge of a breakdown, stripped away the last of his patience.
He abruptly stopped the rhythm, leaving his fingers buried deep and perfectly still inside your swollen depths. The sudden lack of movement was an absolute tease, leaving you stranded on the very edge of a cliff.
He leaned down until his lips brushed the shell of your ear, his breath hot against your skin as he forced his weight heavily over you.“Tell me you want me to fuck you,” he demanded, his voice a deep command that left no room for hesitation. “Say it.”
A high, dire whine broke from your throat at the sudden agonizing stillness, your hips instinctively jerking upward in a silent, pathetic plea for him to keep moving. The tease was unbearable; your body was wound so incredibly tight, practically begging for the release he was intentionally withholding from you.
Yoongi didn't budge an inch. He simply let out a dark, amused huff against your ear, his fingers remained buried like lead inside your dripping pussy. "I didn't ask for a whine," he rasped, his thumb pressing firmly against your jawline to tilt your head back just enough to look at him. "I asked for words. Tell me you want me to fuck you." He repeated the command.
“I–I… I want you fuck me.” You stutter out.
"Good girl," he growled the praise against your ear as he finally withdrew his fingers from your drenched warmth.
The sudden emptiness left you cold for only a second before the weight of his front pressed completely over you, pinning you flat into the couch. He didn't waste another moment. His hand reached down between your bodies, guiding his throbbing cock directly against your swollen opening, smearing your own excess wetness along the head.
He didn't ease into it. With one fluid, commanding thrust of his hips, Yoongi buried himself all the way inside of you, driving deep until his pelvis smacked hard against yours.
Your breath cut off completely, a choked scream tearing from your throat as your fingers clawed desperately into the fabric of his shirt. Your gaze, already locked wide onto his, turned instantly glassy as his sheer thickness stretched you open to an impossible limit, filling you so completely it made your head spin.
“Fuck—” The raven grunted, his upper body hovering over you as he went completely rigid, burying his face into the crook of your neck.
He stayed entirely still, his muscles locked as he forced himself to hold back and let your body adjust to his size. The utter stretch of him filling you to the absolute brim made your hips tremble against the cushions, your breath coming in shallow, ragged hitches beneath his heavy frame.
Every muscle in his back was corded with strain, his pulse hammering heavily where his chest pressed against yours. He took a slow, deep breath, waiting out the initial shock of the fit, though the tight, desperate clench of your walls around his cock was clearly pushing his self control over the edge.
The moment the clenching of your walls finally eased into a welcoming squeeze, Yoongi let out a satisfied groan. He didn't give you a second to recover. Pulling back just enough to catch his leverage, he drove his hips forward, initiating a hard, deliberate rhythm that completely altered the gravity of the room. The slow, punishing depth of his first few strokes was consuming; he slid almost entirely out before sinking all the way back in, bottoming out against you with a wet, heavy thud that rattled the breath right out of your lungs.
He growled, his hands locking firmly on your hips to keep you pinned into the cushions as his pace began to quicken. "Fuck, your pussy feels so good. Just like I imagined."
The steady, intense heat of his body against yours quickly became a relentless blur as his speed increased. The contact was rougher now, the coarse denim of his jeans and the fabric of his boxers scraping against your inner thighs with every aggressive plunge.
The sound of his skin and denim slapping against you echoed loud in the room, driving home the raw, bruising pace he was establishing. With every powerful thrust, his pelvis collided hard against your hips, the tight fullness stretching you so completely that a series of needy, high pitched moans broke from your throat. Because it was your first time, the sheer magnitude of the sensation was almost too much to process; every single movement sent a wave of sweet ache straight through your body, a deep tightness that was simultaneously agonizing and intoxicating as he broke you in.
Yoongi’s gaze never left your face, his eyes dark and entirely focused as he hovered over you. As his upper body leaned in closer to deepen the angle, the chain around his neck swung free. “God, you’re so pretty.” He breathed out. “The best pussy I’ve ever fucking had.”
“Y-Yoongi…” you moaned, your hands balling up the fabric of his shirt tightly. The raven flashed his gummy smile at the sound of his name rolling off your tongue. It was something he could listen to over and over again.
“Fuck… say my name again.”
"Y-Yoongi..." you cried out again, your voice completely breaking as your eyes fluttered closed, your mind dissolving under the weight of pleasure, until the sudden sharp, stinging sensation of his fingers gently smacked your cheek, snapping your eyes back open.
"Look at me," he commanded, his voice growing incredibly rough and strained as his pace became frantic. "I want you looking at me while I fuck you.” He panted, undoubtedly coming close to his end. You were close as well, feeling an intense feeling build up in your stomach.
"Look at how wet you are for me," he rasped, his dirty talk turning completely unfiltered as he felt the contractions of your walls tightening around him. He drove into you harder, faster. "You're taking every single inch of me."
Your vision blurred at the edges as that coiled heat in your stomach wound tighter and tighter, threatening to snap. Every touch felt magnified a hundred times over because it was him, because it was your first time, and the vulnerability of being completely pinned beneath his weight had your mind spinning out of control.
Yoongi let out a low, breathless laugh, his hips stuttering as the deep squelch of your pussy and his thrusts echoed loudly. "Fuck, look what we did," he groaned, his voice dripping with dark satisfaction as he looked down at where your bodies met. "You completely soaked the couch underneath us, baby. You're dripping all over the cushions for me."
Hearing those words sent a heavy wave of heat straight to your face, a mix of intense shyness and absolute surrender that made you squeeze him even tighter.
"Y-Yoongi, I'm gonna..." you cried out, your fingers letting go of his shirt so you could wrap your arms securely around his neck, pulling him down against you. Your hips bucked up instinctively against his, completely consumed by the pressure. "I'm about to cum..."
His dark eyes flared with desperation, his pace turning completely frantic at your admission. Strands of his damp, raven hair fell completely into his face, clinging to his sweaty forehead and obscuring his vision, but he didn't even try to brush them away as he stared down at you through the dark fringe. He slid his arms beneath your back, wrapping them tightly around you and locking you in an embrace that left no space between your chests.
"Me too, baby, fuck, I'm right there with you," he panted out, his voice entirely undone.
He bottomed out hard, his chest heaving as he stared down at you with completely blown out eyes, caught instantly as the coiled tension in your stomach snapped. “Oh god, fuck!” You scream aloud. An explosive, blinding wave of release crashed through you, your walls clamping down on him in tight, frantic pulses.
"I wanna watch my cum dripping out of this tight little pussy when I'm done with you." Yoongi growled, his grip tightening around you as the muscles in his back locked up, your climax triggering his own.With a final, deep thrust, Yoongi threw his head back, his dark hair tossing wildly away from his face. A loud, guttural groan tore from his throat as he came heavily inside you, his entire frame shuddering violently within your embrace as he poured himself into your tightness, locking you both into the shared, breathless aftershocks of the peak.
The violent shuddering of his body slowly subsided, leaving only the sound of your shared, ragged breathing filling the quiet room. For a long moment, neither of you moved. Yoongi remained buried deep inside you, his heavy frame completely draped over yours, his face buried in the crook of your neck as his chest heaved against your breasts.
The tight grip of his arms around your back gradually softened, his hands now simply resting against the fabric of your dress, tracing comforting circles into your waist through the material. You could feel the rapid thumping of his heartbeat right against your ribs, slowly syncing up with your own.
With a low, exhausted grunt, Yoongi shifted his weight, propping himself up on his forearms to look down at you, careful not to crush you on the narrow cushions. Strands of his damp, raven hair were still stuck to his forehead, framing eyes that were dark, heavy lidded, and utterly soft. The intimidating intensity from moments before was completely gone, replaced by a quiet, protective warmth.
"You okay?" he murmured, his voice incredibly deep from the groans he’d just let out. He raised one hand, his thumb gently brushing against your skin, his touch entirely tender.
“Mhm..” You nod breathlessly, your body feeling liquefied, a pleasant ache settling deep into you.
A slow, satisfied smirk tugged at the corner of his lips as he looked down at where your bodies were still joined beneath the bunched up layers of your dress. True to his word, as he slowly and carefully began to pull himself out of your slick cunt, a thick, white stream of his release mixed with your own, dripping out of you and pooling onto the already damp fabric of the couch cushions beneath your hips.
"Look at that," Yoongi whispered, a low rumble of dark satisfaction vibrating in his chest as he stared at the messy sight. He leaned down, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to your lips, tasting the salt of your skin. “You did so fucking good for your first time, baby." He praises you.
The raven collapsed back down onto you, shifting his legs so they tangled thoroughly with yours on the snug space of the couch. He tucked his face right back into your neck, wrapping his arms securely around your torso to anchor you against his chest. He didn't care about the state of his slid down jeans or the dampness of your dress; he just wanted to hold you against him as the adrenaline finally began to fade and he began to fall asleep.
Your mind was a chaotic tangle of thoughts you couldn't quite straighten out. The reality of what just happened was crashing down in waves. You had just lost your virginity. And it wasn't just to anyone; it was to Yoongi, the last person you ever expected to be in this position with.
But beneath that realization lay the heaviest weight of all; Jungkook.
The thought of his name sent a sharp, confusing pang straight through your chest. You had cheated. The word felt ugly, completely incompatible with the hazy, warm weight of Yoongi resting on top of you, yet it was undeniably there. Did you regret it? The alcohol and smoke clouded your brain too much to give you a straight answer. There was no clarity to be found right now, no easy wave of guilt or sudden rush of justification. There was no going back from this. No fixing it, no pretending it was a mistake born purely out of a messy night. The moment you had agreed to come to Yoongi’s warehouse, the trajectory of everything had shifted.
All you knew for certain, as you stared blankly into the dimly lit room with Yoongi’s heartbeat thumping steady against your ribs, was that everything was about to change.
— i wish i could unrecall how we almost had it all.
꣑ৎ status. on-going | ꣑ৎ word count. 8.2k
꣑ৎ friends to lovers, angst, slowburn, second chances (maybe?)
꣑ৎ warnings. explicit sexual content. mention of self-exit (implied, not happening. ok?) angst, very very angsty.
꣑ৎ summary. Yoongi drifts through life on autopilot—sleep-deprived, disinterested in school, and chasing the adrenaline of underground rap battles. Known for his cold, monotone presence, he seems untouchable, until you—the epitome of perfection and grace, collides with him at the wrong place, at the wrong time.
As your young hearts grow fonder, Yoongi’s monotone world becomes vibrant—but one reckless decision shifts the trajectory of your lives forever.
Years later, fate forces both of you together once more—different lives, different times. A relapse of longing, desire, abandoned feelings, and words left unsaid.
Are you willing to risk everything the second time around like a vice rekindled?
this is for everyone who wants to be loved unconditionally ★
— chapter ten
“One, two, three—kimchiii!”
“Kimchiiii…”
“Aigoo, the two of you are really cute together!” your mom chirps as she hands your phone back after snapping the photo.
“Congratulations again, Yoongi-ah. Are you sure you don’t want to come with us to Jeju?” she adds, her attention shifting warmly to him.
Your boyfriend offers a shy smile, politely declining your mom’s invitation for what feels like the nth time over the past couple of weeks.
“Just let Y/N know if you change your mind. We’d love to have you there… so we can have our own private time without this ladybug hogging us,” your dad chimes in teasingly.
Today marks your graduation as a senior high school student. You’ve been in an exclusive relationship with Yoongi for over four months now, that being said, you’ve already met each other’s parents.
From the very beginning, Yoongi has been nothing but respectful, polite, calm, and collected around your parents. Because of that, they’ve had no reason not to approve of him as your boyfriend. In fact, your mom absolutely adores him. Beyond being the first guy you’ve ever introduced to them, what truly won them over was how gently and consistently he takes care of you. As an only child with often-busy parents, that means more to them than anything.
And to you… it means everything.
These past few months have been the happiest you’ve ever been, and your relationship with Yoongi is the biggest reason why. He’s always there for you, especially during the times you felt like you were losing your mind over college entrance exams. He would stay up all night with you while you reviewed piles of thick textbooks, quietly keeping you company just in case you break down or needed someone to hold you together.
Earlier in your relationship, Yoongi shared his plans to take a gap year. He wanted to build a stronger portfolio for his music before applying to college, aiming to get into the university of his dreams. Naturally, he plans to major in music. You can see it clearly—Yoongi has a creative mind that seems to breathe life into anything related to it.
And as his girlfriend, you support him wholeheartedly.
You encourage him to seize every opportunity that comes his way during his gap year. You remind him to go the extra mile, to never box himself in, to explore, and to nurture his craft.
You promise to stand by him, no matter what. And he promises the same.
“Alright, you two enjoy the rest of your day. Make sure to let us know if you’ll be coming home tonight, Y/N,” your mom says, hugging you and Yoongi goodbye.
You wait for them to get inside the car before walking toward Yoongi’s parents, who have been waiting for him. They’ve invited you over for dinner for a small celebration—something you would never turn down, especially since his mom cooks the best local food, given that she owns a restaurant.
You and Yoongi sit at the back of the car on the way to his house. You watch him quietly as he gently circles his thumb over your hand, spacing out while staring outside. You’ve noticed that Yoongi has been a little quieter than usual these past few days—maybe even a week. If you told anyone, they’d say Yoongi has always been quiet, but you know better. You know he’s actually a yapper, especially when it comes to you.
Your mind drifts back to what happened a week ago, when you were hanging out in your room. You were reading a book while he strummed a few chords on the guitar you gifted him, trying to piece together a melody for a song he’d been working on.
Then his phone rang.
He excused himself to answer it, and after a few long minutes, he came back. He was smiling—but nervously. You tried asking what it was about, but he just shrugged and said it was related to what he’d been working toward, which you knew meant building his portfolio. You didn’t push further, because you’re used to him telling you everything eventually. You figured maybe it wasn’t good news, and he just needed time to process it before talking to you about it.
That very same day, the sex felt different. It’s very intimate, much more intimate than before—so much so that it was hard to forget. You remember how he took his time, tracing your body, kissing your lips, your neck, your skin—every part of you—so slowly. You can still remember the way he buried himself deep inside you, not rough like you were used to, but gentle, unhurried. He didn’t curse, didn’t let out a single swear word no matter how good it felt. Instead, he whispered soft affirmations, almost like he was worshipping you.
It was intimate, and you felt loved.
After that day, nothing seemed to change. Everything felt normal between the two of you—still happy, still secure. But lately, you’ve been noticing him spacing out more often. It’s not alarming, not enough for anyone else to point out, but as someone who spends every day with him, it’s noticeable.
Your train of thought were cut off when the car slows down in front of his house. He carefully guide you out and walks inside together holding hands.
During dinner, his parents are asking about your plans for college which somehow makes you a little uncomfortable because you know that they are against Yoongi taking a gap year. But you didn’t fret, you came prepared. You answer their questions politely, and when it naturally drifts off to Yoongi’s “poor” decision as they say, of taking a gap year and choosing music, you make sure to point out that taking gap year is normal and a wise decision if you are aiming to enter your dream university, and every now and then you make sure to point out that being in the world of creatives pays good money. You tried your best to respectfully burst the bubbles in their heads that there’s no money in art. Because it’s true, if it’s done right, and you managed to get your way to the top, art can pay tons of money. Luckily, his brother consistently backing you up all throughout the conversation. At the end of dinner—impressed by how smart you sounds, Yoongi’s father reminds him to not be stupid of letting you go ever which makes you a blushing mess.
You are lying in Yoongi’s bed when he gets out of the shower.
“Can I stay the night?” you ask.
Yoongi grins playfully, “You don't have to ask, you know that right?”
“Mm-hmm, just wanted to make sure my boyfriend is up for it.” you tease.
“Cute.” he chuckles.
“So, what you say—can I borrow a t-shirt so I can shower?”
You are already on your feet, flipping through his cabinet to search for your favorite white t-shirt, and when you found it, you catch Yoongi looking at you with full admiration. His eyes are sparkling, lips slightly curling a smile.
“What?” you ask.
“Nothing, just—my mind is already picturing the day where we’ll share, you know—everything.” he replies, voice soft and sincere.
If it's other guy, you’ll probably bolt through the door as fast as you can and say it's too early in your relationship to be thinking about those kind of things but it's not just any other guy—it’s Yoongi.
The guy who can make your heart flutter even with the simplest gestures, the guy who always meant what he says, the guy who can make you feel loved even without saying it out loud. The guy who takes care of you physically, mentally, and emotionally. The guy who makes you think of what your future house would look like with him in it.
It may sound insane and rash, but you’re totally seeing yourself settling with him. Not today, or next week, or next year, but soon.
“Now you're being sappy with me. What about I take a shower, then I’ll cheer you up?” you tease, snaking your arms around his neck.
“Yah! I’m being serious, don't make fun of me.” he pouts.
“—but fuck sappy hours. I will never turn down your offer. Hmm, cheering me up? Is that so?”
“Mm-hmm,” you hum in response, eyebrows wiggling as you press a soft kiss on his lips.
“Can you text my mom and tell I’ll stay here tonight?”
You pull away from Yoongi and retreat to the bathroom for a shower.
— chapter eleven
The white T-shirt you borrowed from Yoongi had long since been abandoned on the floor. Your lips move against his in a rush, messy and hungry pace, as you straddle his lap in nothing but your underwear. Yoongi cups the back of your neck, pulling you closer, pressing you deeper into the kiss. His tongue sweeps inside your mouth, drawing a muffled whimper from your lips.
You can feel him hardening between your thighs, and you roll your hips subtly, testing, teasing. The friction makes your breath hitch.
Slowly, you slide off his lap, breaking the kiss. You settle between his legs, your knees lays flat on the floor as Yoongi leans back on his hands, watching you.
Your hand finds his bulge, palming him through the fabric, feeling him grow under your touch. When you tug at the waistband of his pants, Yoongi lifts his hips slightly, helping you pull them down. The fabric pools around his feet, leaving him exposed, his cock flushed and heavy in the cool air.
Your grip is soft at first, almost curious, as your fingers wrap around his shaft. Your thumb brushes over his slit, spreading the pre-cum that beads at the tip. Then your tongue follows—warm, slow—circling the head, tasting him. It’s salty, but he tastes so good.
Yoongi lets out a strained groan, like it almost hurts. His hand flies to the back of your head, fingers threading into your hair, gripping a little tighter when you take him into your mouth in one smooth motion. Your lips seal around him, sinking deeper until you feel him press against the back of your throat.
You don’t stop. You push further, despite the gag that rises in your chest. By the time he’s fully sheathed in your mouth, Yoongi is a wreck—cursing under his breath, voice breaking.
Slowly, you pull back, releasing him with a soft pop. When you glance up at him, he looks undone—eyes glassy, chest rising and falling, a sheepish grin tugging at his lips.
“Jesus, baby… that’s so good.”
Your hand wraps around him again, steady at his base, as you lean in to drag your tongue along the underside of his length. His cock twitches against your nose.
Just as you’re about to swallow him in again, Yoongi stops you, his grip tightening gently.
“Hold on, baby—wait. I’m not gonna last if you keep doing that,” he exhales. “Let me take care of you.”
A slow grin spreads across your lips at how uncomposed he is, a clear evidence that he’s losing his mind.
You rise to your feet and reach for the hem of his shirt, pulling it over his head before tossing it somewhere across the room. Then you slide your panties down your legs, letting them fall just as carelessly to the floor.
Climbing back onto his lap, you settle over him again.
The moment your wet heat brushes against his cock, the friction sends a sharp wave through you. You let out a soft, unsteady moan as you instinctively grind down, your body reacting before you can think. Yoongi’s hands grip your hips tightly, his head falling back slightly as he hisses at the contact.
“Tonight’s all about you, baby.” you whisper as you grab his hard cock and line it against your heat.
Slowly, you sink down on him earning a ragged moan from the both of you. Your nails embed on his shoulders as you slowly sink deeper, feeling every vein and twitch against your soft warm walls. Yoongi is nothing different, his grasp on your hips tighten, eyes shut, and strings of low grunts are spilling endlessly out of his lips.
You pause for a moment when you bottom out, his twitching cock is sheathed all the way inside you. You can feel your walls flutter, the stretch is familiar yet still overwhelming. You press your forehead against his as you look him in the eye and he returns it.
His eyes are screaming desire, lust, worry? at the same time. When Yoongi opens his mouth to say something, you swivel your hips making him shut his eyes at your wake. His nails dig deeper in your hips, the kind where bruise will surely follow. Your breath falters as you continue grinding on top of him, his cock swiping every inch of your sensitive spots.
“Y-you sure about this?” he chokes.
“I’ve been thinking about this too much lately.”
Since the night in the cabin, you and Yoongi had shared incredible sex on the daily which made you question yourself a couple of times if the numbers are normal for a couple at your age. This time though hits different. Sure, you’ve taken control multiple times, rode his cock until you milk him dry but this is something new because for the first time, you’re doing it without a protection— no latex, no rubber in between. And as if the incredible sex with him can get better, you’re not ashamed to admit that this is phenomenal.
“You need to pull out of me when I— god! you feel so good— I-I don’t think I can pull out, baby. You need to do it yourself, kay?” Yoongi manage get his words out despite of losing all coherent thoughts with how delicious this new sensation is.
“Can I say something?” you ask before adding speed to your pace grinding.
“Sure, but you need to stop with the clenching because I’m really really close.”
“I started taking birth control three weeks ago.”
Yoongi flutters his eyes open, staring directly onto you with his dark gaze and appreciation glimmering on his brown orbs. Those eyes.
“You don’t have to do that, I don’t want you to do anything out of pressure.”
“Relax, I got myself checked first. And I wanted to do it for us, I’m more than willing to—fuck! fuck!” you shove your face in the crook of his neck, unable to finish your sentence when his cock brush against your g-spot, making you quiver with immensible pleasure.
Yoongi flips you so your back lay against the mattress while he hovers on top of you. With his swift hands, he lifts both of your legs on his chest, basically folding you in half as he rut himself without restraint. Your body moves half inch higher after each thrusts. Your toes curls involuntarily while he fucks you harder than he ever did before.
You cup both of your breasts in attempt to maximize the glorious sensation radiating all over your body then suddenly a jolt of sting spreads on your face when Yoongi’s palm meets your soft cheeks.
“Do it again, baby, please” you beg, tears brimming the side of your eyes.
Another slap landed on your cheeks earning a sultry moan from the mixture of pain and pleasure, and without realizing it, you come undone. Hot fluid gush out of your hole, covering Yoongi’s dick that’s pushing in and out of you relentlessly. An obscene wet noise coming from your dripping pussy getting destroyed flood the four corners of his room. You can’t help but clench, and clench, and clench, clamping your walls around his cock as you ride your high which sends Yoongi to his peak.
With a little hesitation pooling on his chest, Yoongi spills his release inside of you—all of it, burying himself as deeper as he could while he fiddles with your fingers.
Your eyes flutters as you watch him ride his orgasm before collapsing on top of you, snuggling against your warm embrace.
God, you’re so in love.
— chapter twelve
There is an extra skip in your step as you carry your luggage into the house. You spent the last five days at your grandmother’s home in Jeju with your parents as a graduation gift vacation, but no matter how breathtaking the places you visited were, your heart could not wait to return to Daegu and back to the love of your life.
A grin that had been plastered on your face since this morning was nowhere near fading. Yoongi slept early last night, saying he was tired from his day, and when you woke up this morning, his good morning message was the first thing you saw on your phone. After that, though, he had been radio silent all day.
Normally, you would already be pouty and upset by now, but you knew better. The thought that Yoongi might have something special prepared for your return had kept you in a good mood the entire day.
You send him a text while lying on your bed.
Hey, I’m home. Dinner together?
When the message goes unanswered for five minutes, you send another.
Busy? I miss you, please come over and hug me. I’m starting to forget your smell.
Another five minutes pass with nothing, so you send another text, and then another, until the third turns into a string of unanswered messages.
Don’t ignore me, Yoongi!!
Sorry, are you really busy?
I’m starting to think you’re breaking up with me or something.
Kidding…
Press one for proof of life.
Hey, it seems like you’re really busy. Kk, don’t want to be the annoying girlfriend. Text me when you’re available.
Yoongi, I know I said I wouldn’t be annoying, but you’re making me upset right now. It’s been four hours since I got back, and you haven’t replied since this morning. What’s up? I’m worried.
His lack of communication suddenly kills your appetite, enough for you to skip dinner altogether. You don’t know how long you stare at your phone waiting for his reply before you eventually fall asleep.
The next morning, you jolt awake. Your hands scramble through the sheets looking for your phone, hoping Yoongi’s reason for being radio silent all day yesterday would be enough to keep you from getting upset.
Instead, disappointment crashes over you when you see there isn’t a single text from him.
You make your way downstairs with a tiny bit of hope that your boyfriend is in the kitchen making breakfast, something he had done a couple of times ever since you introduced him to your parents. But the whole house is quiet. Not a single person is in sight. Your parents have already gone to work, leaving you completely alone.
You pick up your phone and dial his number as you get dressed. You are a patient woman, but everything has its limits. Whatever Yoongi is planning, a surprise or whatever the fuck it is, is not worth this kind of cold treatment.
Your eyebrows pinch together when the anger clouding your brain is suddenly replaced with genuine worry at the operator’s voice on the other line.
“I’m sorry, the number you dialed is unavailable and cannot be reached. Please try your call again later.”
Within minutes, you are outside hailing a taxi. He better have a good reason for turning off his phone, you think as the taxi drives toward his house.
You stand in front of his gate for God knows how long. There’s an uneasiness swelling in your chest that makes you hesitate to knock.
Yoongi isn’t like this, you tell yourself.
He knew you were coming home yesterday. You told him that before he went to sleep. You replay the days you spent in Jeju, but everything had seemed normal. You texted each other every single day, telling one another how much you missed each other. Before bed, he would call and listen to your stories about the places you visited.
No matter how hard you try, you cannot think of a single reason that would make him act like this.
If he were planning a surprise for you, he would never go an entire day without communication. No, Yoongi would never do that. He had been blowing up your phone since the moment you left for Jeju, constantly all over you ever since you started dating.
You know something is wrong.
Just as you are about to knock, you hear a voice behind you.
“Y/N?”
You turn on your heels to find Yoongi’s brother standing there, holding a plastic bag full of vegetables.
“Hey, is Yoo—”
“Already missing Yoongi?” he cuts you off with a sheepish grin.
Your brows furrow.
“Come on in. How long have you been here?”
You step inside while he holds the gate open for you.
“Not that long. Is Yoongi here?”
Jay, Yoongi’s brother, suddenly stops in his tracks and looks back at you with a frown, concern flickering across his face.
“What do you mean?” he asks.
“Uh… he hasn’t replied to my texts since yesterday. I tried calling him this morning, but his phone was turned off, so I decided to stop by and see if he’s okay.”
“Y/N… he didn’t tell you?”
Your stomach drops.
“Tell me what?”
“Yoongi moved to Seoul two days ago. He got accepted into a training program.”
“For what?”
“To become an idol.”
A loud, piercing ring fills your ears. Your vision blurs red, and for a second, it feels like your lungs stop working altogether.
You don’t know what to say.
Is this a prank? Is he joking?
No.
Jay’s face is nothing but serious. You can tell he is not messing with you.
You have no idea how long you stand there staring at him, or how long you remain silent. Your brain only seems to start functioning again when Jay lifts his phone to his ear. The line rings endlessly.
“Yoongi, what the fuck?” Jay snaps once the voicemail picks up. “Y/N is here. Talk to her.”
He ends the call after leaving the message.
Then he looks at you carefully.
“You want his new number?”
“No.”
— chapter thirteen
It’s been three days since you found out that Yoongi left for Seoul without saying anything to you. You have no idea how to process such heartbreak simply because no one ever warned you that this type of breakup could happen to you. Yes, you call this a breakup since everything the two of you built together vanished the moment he ghosted you for his dreams.
Right… his dreams.
You should’ve seen the signs. For all the months you’ve been together, you haven’t heard him talk about his future with you in it. Not when every promise of getting off in his bed followed through.
The past few days have been hell, and it doesn’t improve much. You haven’t been getting proper sleep and barely eat. You refuse to tell your parents what really happened, but you know they already have an idea.
Another wave of pain tingles through your brain. You’ve been having migraines from crying these past few days, and today is no different. Although now, you’re crying for two reasons. One, because your boyfriend abandoned you like a piece of trash, and two, because you just tanked your interview at SNU.
Your college entrance interview was set earlier today, and your brain just shut off. Your confidence immediately flew out the window the moment they started asking questions. You couldn’t even speak properly, and you swear the interviewer noticed that you were one thread away from crying. There’s no way you passed that interview, so your chance of studying at your first-choice school is zero at this point.
Who wants to go to Seoul anyway?
Did Yoongi ever anticipate that you’d pass SNU? If so, why did he go to Seoul without telling you? He’s not stupid enough to forget that if you ever decided to go to SNU, there would be a chance you’d see him, or at least be in the same city as him.
Rivulets of tears stream from your eyes to your ears because of your own thoughts. You can think of a hundred ways to work around your relationship while studying in the same city as he chases his dreams of becoming an idol.
I guess I am not important enough to make it into his plans for the future. Just another thing at his disposal. A piece of ass he decided to leave in Daegu because idols are prohibited from dating during their first few years. Of course, no one wants a loophole that could sabotage his climb up the ladder of his career.
Your heart shatters into a million pieces once more as those truths cloud your brain. How could he leave you like that? How could he pretend and say he misses you and can’t wait for you to come back, only for you to return to him running away from everything you built together?
No, he didn’t run away. He disappeared because you were that easy to dispose of.
You log into your social media account and visit his page. He rarely uses social media, so you’re not sure what you’re even looking for. When there’s nothing to scroll through on his feed, you click the message button and send a voicemail.
Hey, I just wanted to know why you left. Please call me when you get this.
Just once. One more try at saving the sinking ship because God forbid you love the man who made you feel unimportant enough to leave without saying goodbye. Despite your resolve, your heart is more than willing to forget everything he’s done if he’ll just say he’s sorry.
8 months later
Your walk is a little wobbly as you try to get out of the BBQ pub with your friends beside you, giggling over something you can’t even remember. Your college friends think it’s best to celebrate your birthday, which falls on a Friday night, by stuffing yourselves with good meoksal and getting hammered. That’s how you end up face-fuck drunk with a bunch of wild nerds.
You look at one of your friends trying to hand you a cigarette.
“You know I don’t smoke,” you say in refusal.
“Oh, c’mon, Y/N! Just try it so you don’t end up looking like a goody-goody among your friends.”
“No, thanks!”
“Yah! Stop pushing Y/N. This bitch has never smoked in her life. You don’t stand a chance,” your other friend chimes in, making the other walk away from you in defeat.
You just chuckle as you watch your friends drag on their cigarettes not too far from where you stand.
Only if you knew…
When Yoongi left you eight months ago, you tried your best to move on with your life no matter how hard it was. That includes everything that reminds you of him, and smoking is the first thing. It’s weird that the most common vice in the world reminds you of the person you both love and hate. You still get misty-eyed every time you see, hear, or smell something that reminds you of him. It’s been months, eight fucking months. You entered college, made new friends, developed new hobbies, and yet you still haven’t moved on.
How could you, though, if you have no idea where to start?
Your poor heart was shattered into a million little pieces left scattered on the floor, and no matter how much you want to fix everything, you don’t know where to begin. You don’t know which pieces to pick up first. Your confidence, trust, and happiness were ripped away from you. You don’t know what needs healing because everything inside you seems broken. It comes to the point where it hurts both emotionally and physically.
Your drifting thoughts are cut off by your phone buzzing in your pocket. You look at the caller ID and it says, “Seoul.”
You have no idea what you were thinking when you saved this phone number with the +82 area code. The call is coming from Seoul.
It’s not the first time this number has tried to call you.
The first time starts six months ago. When the number calls for the first time, you don’t answer. Then the next day it calls again while you’re in class, and once again you let it ring. That same night, when you’re about to sleep, your phone rings again with the same number calling. Without thinking much of it, you answer, but the line is silent.
No matter how many times you say, “Hello? Who’s this?” there’s nothing. Not even breathing can be heard.
After a few minutes of staying on the line, you suddenly feel your cheeks becoming wet with your own tears. The silence comforts you in some way. The tightening in your chest is easier to bear when your mind forces you to believe that the person on the other line is someone you’re hoping for. The first call lasts a little more than thirty minutes, with you sobbing while the other side remains silent.
And just like clockwork, the same number calls you twice a month, every 9th and 21st. You’re delusional enough to think the caller chooses those dates because they’re yours and Yoongi’s birthdays, or at least that’s what your brain tells you to justify answering the calls over and over again.
The first four calls are just you crying on the other line. By the third month, you start sharing things that happen to you during the past few days. It doesn’t even matter that you never get a response back. You’re just happy to do so, like you’re updating the ghost from your past.
But there are a few things you refuse to touch on. First, you never mention the breakup or your attempts to move on from the pain you’re dealing with. Lastly, you never address the other person on the line as Yoongi, because, honestly, it’s a reach. Still, there’s a part of you that believes he’s on the other end because hell… who else would call you from Seoul?
You answer the call without batting an eye.
“It’s my birthday,” you start, your voice so small it’s almost a whisper.
As expected, the other line is just pure silence.
“I’m with my friends. We’re out drinking to celebrate me. God, it feels so long since the last time I felt celebrated. Am I happy? Maybe. You know what, I know what you’re thinking. You think I’m drunk, but I’m not. I mean, yes, I am, but I’m sober at least when I see you calling…” you let out a breathy laugh.
“I think I’ve said this before to someone… someone I used to know. I tried to convince that person that I wasn’t drunk, but I was, and it led me to… k-kissing him. It’s cute. Not the kiss, but him. He’s cute. I always find him cute and charming and God, what am I saying?” you pause only to hear nothing on the other end.
“And then an unfortunate series of events starts happening. Spoiler alert, it doesn’t end well, at least not for me. I made a mistake… no, not a mistake. Yeah, because you don’t want mistakes to happen again. If… if I ever got another chance, I would do it all over again. I would still kiss him that night in my house. I would still go to his— I would still stand in the crowd and watch him perform like he fucking owns the stage. But I wouldn’t go to Jeju after graduation… that… I want to change that. I would refuse to go even if I had to fight my parents because nothing feels right when I come back. I would also probably push him to tell me what that phone call was about, the one he received one afternoon at my house. I… I feel like it has something to do with everything. If I had only forced him to talk to me about it, maybe… maybe I wouldn’t feel like I want to… die,” you whisper the last word before pausing to stop yourself from weeping.
“Fuck, I can’t do this. Not anymore.” Your eyes blur from the stream of tears falling down your cheeks as you look up at the glowing neon sign across the road.
“I’m standing in front of our favorite place. I wanted to bring my friends here because I wanted karaoke on my birthday, but earlier I realized I fucking hate this place because it’s one of the places where I felt special. The food is delicious, and I love the ambiance it radiates, but I fucking hate how this place reminds me of the person I used to…” A sob escapes your lips as you feel the familiar sting jab at the center of your heart.
“Stop calling me. This is the last time you’ll ever get to contact me. I’m changing my number first thing in the morning. Yoongi… just let me go, please. I need to heal.”
You press the red button on your screen to end the call before collapsing onto the sidewalk with nothing to cling to except your weeping, broken heart.
— chapter fourteen
10 years later
It's been twenty minutes since you parked your car in the crowded parking lot of your high school, yet you still can't bring yourself to get out. Your forehead rests against the steering wheel as you try to steady yourself. You shouldn't be feeling this way. It's been ten years. You've moved on, you've healed, and visiting your old campus shouldn't be enough to drag old ghosts out of their graves.
Keep telling yourself that.
With a sigh, you lift your head and pull your keys from the ignition. The diamond ring on your finger catches the sunlight as you do, the sparkle almost mocking. You're getting married in a few months. The possibility of running into Yoongi at an alumni homecoming event shouldn't scare you this much.
There's a reason you never told your fiancé about tonight. A reason you made sure he couldn't offer to come with you. Why you did that, you honestly don't know.
Your heartbeat picks up as you approach the school gates. The familiar pathways welcome you with memories you never asked to revisit. Each step feels like retracing old footprints, following a version of yourself that no longer exists. Your chest tightens as you remember the countless mornings Yoongi walked beside you on this very path and the afternoons he waited to walk you home. It would've been nice if you'd ended up with him. That would've been a story worth telling your future children someday. The kind of love story people smiled at when they heard it. Not the one where you met Jun at a frat party during your sophomore year of college.
No. Pull yourself together.
You love your fiancé, and you're marrying him because he loves you back.
The event goes smoothly enough. There is still no sign of Yoongi, but his name drifts through conversations every now and then as people speculate whether he'll show up. Tonight marks the tenth anniversary of your graduating batch, and while the event is meant to bring former classmates together, it's also a fundraiser for the school's music and arts program for students with special needs. As always, the school proudly reminds everyone that its biggest sponsor over the years has been none other than SUGA of BTS.
A small smile tugs at your lips.
SUGA.
The stage name Yoongi chose.
You excuse yourself midway through the program under the pretense of using the restroom, but instead of heading toward the brightly lit hallway where the ladies' room is located, your feet carry you in the opposite direction. Before you know it, you're lifting the faded NO TRESPASSING sign out of the way and reaching for the rusty steel handle behind it. Without giving yourself a chance to reconsider, you slip through the old gate and are immediately greeted by a feeling so familiar it steals the air from your lungs.
You switch on your phone's flashlight and sweep the beam across the back of the school. The place feels smaller now than it did ten years ago. Maybe everything seems smaller when you've spent a decade growing around the memories attached to it. A painful ache settles in your chest as you walk forward, your gaze automatically drifting upward to the windows of your old classroom. For a split second, it feels as though you've been transported back in time.
Your vision has long since blurred with tears, but the first one finally spills down your cheek when you push past piles of rotting desks and overgrown weeds and step into the small hidden corner that used to belong to you and Yoongi.
Your eyes immediately find the concrete bench tucked away in the corner.
If that bench could talk, would it be disappointed to know that you and Yoongi never found your way back to each other?
Would the old tree standing a few feet away mourn with you if it knew how badly he broke your heart?
Time has changed almost everything about this place, yet the bench and the tree remain untouched. They stand exactly where they've always stood, silent witnesses to a love that once felt permanent. They heard every conversation you shared with the boy you loved. They watched stolen glances turn into lingering smiles, watched shy touches become warm embraces, watched innocent affection grow into something that consumed you whole. Standing here now, you find yourself wondering if they would grieve with you if they knew how the story ended.
The tears come harder after that.
You hate yourself for it.
After all these years, you're still standing in the ruins of a memory, crying over a boy who left.
You know better than this. You know you shouldn't be feeling this way. You're getting married in a few months. You're happy. You love your fiancé, and you're excited to build the life you've always dreamed of with him.
So for the last time, you reach into your bag and pull out the one thing you've kept hidden away for ten years.
A white lighter.
When Yoongi left, you threw away everything that reminded you of him. The photos, the letters, the gifts, the promises. Everything except this.
The lighter he gave you after carefully scratching both your initials onto its glossy surface.
Your thumb traces the faded engraving.
Y.G ♥ Y.N
The letters are worn with age, but they're still there.
Just like the memories.
Carefully, you place the lighter on top of the concrete bench and stare at it for a long moment. It looks strangely small sitting there alone, abandoned beneath the tree that once sheltered your secrets. Maybe that's fitting. Maybe some things are meant to remain in the places where they belonged.
Before your courage can fail, you turn around.
You don't look back.
Not at the bench.
Not at the tree.
Not at the lighter.
You make it all the way to your car, forcing yourself to swallow every remaining tear before climbing inside. Then you start the engine and drive away from the school, away from the memories, away from the version of yourself that spent years wondering what could have been.
And when you finally make it home, the lights are still on.
Jun is waiting for you.
Just as he always does.
— chapter fifteen
You nervously play with the ring on your finger as you pass by the huge buildings scattered along the busy highways of Seoul. Streetlights illuminate your face as your heart rate goes crazy by the second.
This is your first time in Seoul.
Ironic to think, actually. You're this big corporate girl who works for a company mainly situated in the biggest cities of your country and overseas, yet you haven't visited this city before, and you know the reason why.
Three years ago, you were offered a position at the office tucked away on the outskirts of Yongsan, complete with a huge salary, benefits, and housing. But you refused, saying that you weren't ready to leave your parents in Daegu, as well as your boyfriend then, fiancé now.
But who were you kidding anyway?
You knew that you were afraid to reside in the same city as the guy who broke your heart ten years ago, who was rarely even in the country to begin with.
In the last ten years, without much resolve, you've watched Yoongi's career climb to its peak. Who would've thought that the guy who used to make mixtapes sold for next to nothing would become one of the most sought-after producers and artists internationally?
And to see him reach his dream together with his friends, you cannot help but think that he left you for the best.
That all the heartbreak and relationship trauma etched into you were worth it.
All these years, you thought that March in Daegu was the worst, seeing all his posters and murals in every corner of the streets to celebrate his birthday. But clearly, you were wrong about that too, because March in Seoul is by far the worst of the worst.
Lamp posts are dressed in his posters, establishments wave his mini billboards, and bus stops and subway stations are littered with his pictures just for his birthday.
Your mind goes back to the first and last time you celebrated his birthday together. You haven't thought about it in years, but now you're curious to know whether he still has the guitar you gifted him, or if he left it behind in his house in Daegu.
Or maybe he discarded it long ago.
A bitter smile crosses your face when the image of him looking so happy while receiving the damn guitar passes through your mind.
"We're here," the taxi driver announces as the car halts in front of the hotel arranged by your company, which will be your home for the next twelve days.
Your suitcases are hauled out of the taxi, and the hotel staff welcome you and help you settle into your suite.
While lying in bed, you question yourself about how you ended up here tonight.
The answer is simple.
Your company has received one of its biggest contracts in the last decade.
As per your Regional Manager, Nabi, a very famous artist wants to commission your company to collaborate on a product that will soon hit the market. A food product wrapped around a public figure's name is not uncommon nowadays, but this one is different.
The identity of the artist has remained within the corners of the corporate offices and was never mentioned in any of the documents linked to this project that you've seen so far.
The anonymity is due to the significance of the project and, according to your boss, the artist and their company don't want anything leaking to the public before it is even greenlit.
Therefore, the stockpile of NDAs scattered throughout the corporate office makes sense.
Nabi should've been the one in your position right now, but with her being eight months pregnant, she decided not to stay far away from home, even if this project could mean a huge bonus and an instant promotion.
And you, being the Team Lead Researcher and one of the company's most valuable employees in the last five years, were chosen to replace the most qualified candidate.
You check yourself one last time in front of the mirror before heading out to start your first day of work in Seoul.
Your first agenda is to meet the team from your company based in Yongsan, the people you'll be working with throughout the entirety of this project.
Then you're scheduled for an afternoon meeting with the client's team and maybe, as stated in the email last week, the artist will be present if there are no conflicts in their schedule.
The morning meet-and-greet goes great.
You are officially working with a team of six, including yourself, and the awesome thing about all this is that you'll be working with people within your age bracket, along with a few who are younger.
Which only means one thing.
All the ideas that will flow through your vision board will be nothing but trendy and timely, and you're looking forward to it.
Your company has arranged an exclusive car service at your disposal at any given time, as long as it's connected to this project, which is a huge relief since you're not familiar with the roads and highways of Seoul.
The car stops in front of a massive, luxurious building, prompting everyone to get out.
A staff member is already waiting at the car bay to welcome and escort your team inside. But before you can even lift your head toward the tall façade of the building to see the huge illuminated sign, the name and logo written on the employee's ID catch your eye.
And with that, your blood runs cold.
There's no way.
No fucking way.
Your head snaps upward so fast to double-check that your vision isn't playing tricks on you. If it were possible to get whiplash from how aggressive your movement was, you'd have it by now.
There, right in front of your eyes, you read:
HYBE.
It is the company that handles BTS.
That handles Yoongi.
Min Yoongi.
Fuck.
There is no way, right?
Your mind is everywhere while your heart is doing somersaults as you drag your feet behind the others.
You try to psych yourself up, reminding yourself that aside from BTS, there are plenty of artists and groups under this company who are also internationally famous.
There is no way BTS would release some food collaboration.
No.
They're bigger than that.
Right?
Your attention snaps back to reality as each of your team members starts setting up their laptops and iPads.
You haven't even realized that you're already sitting in one of the chairs at the long table stretched across a mid-sized meeting room, with a projector set up at the far end beside the door.
An employee from HYBE, whom you assume is taking the lead on the client's side of the project, starts rambling words you can't seem to understand.
Your focus isn't in this room.
Your heart hasn't calmed down since arriving.
There's a faint ringing in your ears, and your hands are becoming clammy.
Out of habit, you start fidgeting with your engagement ring.
You keep twisting it around your finger as if it's helping you calm the fuck down.
The rest of your team starts lightly clapping, accompanied by enthusiastic and excited expressions.
The Group Leader Researcher on your team nudges you lightly with her elbow, a wide grin plastered across her face.
"Huh?" you ask, looking at her in confusion.
"She said we'll be meeting the artist today because they happen to be free for the rest of the day," she whispers.
And with that, a loud commotion starts flowing through the hallway.
Overlapping conversations and noise can be heard inside the meeting room through the fully open door.
You scan the hallway, following the origin of the noise.
Your eyes fixate on the first person to appear at the end of the corridor.
With his blinding smile, you immediately recognize Hoseok.
Fuck.
Trailing behind him, your gaze lands on a face with pale skin and the softest eyes you've ever seen in your life.
Yoongi.
Your breath hitches.
No.
You stop breathing altogether.
You want to look away, but you can't.
It's been ten years since you last saw him in person.
You want to laugh at yourself for being struck by how much his appearance has changed over the years when you've literally been seeing his pictures everywhere since he debuted.
His eyes land on you as he walks through the door and, damn, you notice how he stops in his tracks.
How his eyes widen ever so slightly.
How his mouth parts just a little.
An expression passes over his face that you can't recognize.
Guilt?
Sadness?
Longing?
You cannot read him.
And God forbid, you want to know exactly what thoughts are running through his mind right now.
Is he expecting to see you?
Is he delighted?
Shocked?
Upset?
In your peripheral vision, you know that Hoseok and Namjoon are looking at you too, but your attention remains locked on the man whose eyes are fixed on yours.
Your team members stand and start shaking hands with the seven overly famous artists who have just entered the room.
Fuck, fuck, fuck!
Taking the deepest breath of your life, you do your best to compose yourself and, without hesitation, sneakily remove the shiny engagement ring from your finger and tuck it deep inside your pocket before shaking hands with the first man you ever loved.
a/n. SURPRISEEEEE! the original three-parter series will be having a part four! (look at that)
a lot has happened to me in the two-ish months, some of which causes the delay of the part three. i also experienced the worst writing slump this year 😭 while i appreciate all the people who are asking when's the next update, i also feel a little guilty with how long this has been taking.
so, i did my best to deliver something because i love you all so much!! 🥹 i know this update is a little shorter than the previous ones, but really, i wanted to give something out (that's the reason why we will be having part four mehehe)
anyways,
as always, please let me know your thoughts! 💗 comments, suggestions, constructive criticisms are much welcome and appreciated.
i wanted to hear your thoughts, opinion(?), anything especially on this update. and i just hope you like it as much 🫶🏻🫶🏻
WHAT'S NEW FOR PART FOUR?
i am changing my writing style (hope it's an upgrade, not a downgrade) i've been meaning to, since i am really eager to be better at writing, and also, WE WILL BE HAVING YOONGI'S POV!! how exciting is that? 👀
again, thank you very much for all the love and support 💗
Summary: Your life was perfect. You had the perfect fiance, the perfect house and the perfect ring on your finger. The only thing that wasn't perfect …. were the memories you lost years ago and the fact your parents won't talk about it.
Warnings: Memory Loss, Swearing, Blood Mention, Eventual Unprotected Sex, Mention Of Car Accident, Mention Of Drunk Driver. Will add as I go…
The curtains were blowing with the slight breeze carrying in slightly humid air. The storm had finally passed but the power had yet to come back on. The living room was slightly less stifling than the bedroom. However, the fabric of the couch was still sticking to your back.
Lips graze your neck making you close your eyes as your hands come up and thread your fingers into the man's hair. The world blurs at the edges, like fog rolling in and everything is soft and indistinct. The man above you, he feels like someone you've known forever, but his name slips through your fingers.
His lips press firmer against your neck now, teeth grazing the pulse point. A shiver runs down your spine, pulling a soft gasp from your throat as your fingers tighten in his hair. The couch creaks beneath you both, the sticky fabric pulling at your bare back as he shifts his weight. You arch into him without thinking, the haze in your mind thickening as his hand slides up your thigh, fingers tracing lazy circles that send sparks through the dreamlike fog.
“You're so beautiful.” His breath is warm against your ear.
Your legs part instinctively, inviting him closer, and he obliges, his hips settling between yours with a pressure that's all too real. His mouth trails lower, kissing along your collarbone, then dipping to capture the swell of your breast. His tongue flicks over your nipple, and you moan, the sound echoing strangely in the room. Everything feels amplified yet distant. His free hand cups your other breast, thumb rolling the sensitive bud while his teeth nip gently, sending jolts straight to your core.
“Who are you?” You whisper, before his mouth claims yours in a deep, devouring kiss.
“You know who I am,” he says. "Watch me."
His hands grip your thighs, spreading them wider as he slides down your body. You prop yourself up on your elbows, heart pounding. The room spins a bit, it's hard for you to focus.
He settles between your legs, pushing your knees apart until you're fully exposed to his gaze. His breath fans hot over your core first, teasing, before his tongue darts out to trace a slow line from your entrance to your clit. You gasp, hips jerking up, but he holds you steady, palms firm on your inner thighs.
You try to fix your eyes on him as commanded. However, it's blurring just like the radio in the car. You close your eyes as his head dips lower between your parted thighs. He licks flat and broad, tongue pressing against your folds, lapping up you with hungry strokes that make your toes curl.
“Look at me,” he groans against you again.
The haze swirls more, but you open your eyes. The room is still blurry, but when you look down. His hair catches the faint light of the moon through the window. Pale mint green strands falling forward over his eyes are the only sharp detail in the fog. It's familiar, tugging at some buried memory, but before it can surface, pleasure crashes over you.
He sucks your clit into his mouth, teeth grazing lightly as his tongue circles it relentlessly, fingers digging into your thighs to keep you open. You moan and sink your hands into his hair. His tongue thrusts inside you next, sliding in and out with wet, deliberate pushes, while his thumb presses your clit in firm circles. Waves of heat build, coiling tight in your belly, your body arching off the sticky couch.
The pale mint green of his hair blurs into the haze. The feelings of his hands on you were slipping away. The room was growing darker.
Darker.
You wake up blinking rapidly as thunder outside slightly shakes your bedroom windows.
You look over your shoulder at Corbyn sleeping. His dark hair rests perfectly against his pillow.
Dark hair.
Swallowing, you slowly climb out of bed and walk to the bathroom. Shutting the door behind you, you turn the light over the vanity on before splashing your face with water. You look at yourself in the mirror and then down at the hidden picture in your headband drawer. Tapping your fingers quickly against the countertop you bend down and open the drawer.
Moving the hair accessories aside, you pull out the group picture that started it all with shaky fingers. Breathing deeply, you scan the picture. Jin, mid bite. Taehyung mid sentence. Hobi jumping. Joon and his crooked glasses. Jungkook staring at a happy Yura. Jimin leaning forward smiling. You…and right behind you. Yoongi with his pale mint green hair.
Your grip loosens on the photo, and you let out a slow breath, shaking your head like you can physically dislodge the feeling.
“It's the community center,” you murmur, quieter now. “That’s all it is.”
It makes sense.
It has to make sense.
You’ve been seeing him more. Talking to him more. Spending time with him side by side. Your brain is just… filling in the gaps.
That’s what people say happens, right?
They follow you.
Into your thoughts.
Into your sleep.
Your eyes flick back to the picture. To the way Yoongi was standing behind your shoulder wearing a small smirk. To the pale mint hair on top of his head.
Not some… dream version of him.
You swallow.
You slide the picture back into the drawer, a little quicker than before, like putting it away will erase the lingering dream. The clear picture you have of his head dipping between your thighs.
“Just a dream,” you say again, firmer this time.
You turn off the bathroom light and head back to bed. Corbyn hasn’t moved. The storm outside isn't bothering him at all.
You slip back into bed beside him, careful and quiet.
Normal.
This is normal.
You close your eyes, pulling the blanket up slightly and for a split second. Just before sleep takes you again, you feel it.
Not a touch. Not really.
But the ghost of one. Warm breath against your ear.
You know who I am.
Your eyes snap open.
The room is silent except for the storm.
Both outside and inside of you.
You don’t hear her knock.
Not over the storm still rumbling in the distance. Not over the quiet ringing in your ears that hasn’t quite gone away since you woke up. What you do hear though, is the handle turning. Your head snaps up from where you’re standing in the kitchen. Your fingers loosely wrapped around the glass of water you haven't taken a sip from. The door opens and your mother is already stepping inside. Relief flashes across her face first before it disappears just as fast, replaced by something tighter.
“There you are,” she says.
“Mom,” you breathe out.
“I’ve been calling you.” She shuts the door behind her with a firm click, already slipping her phone into her bag. “Repeatedly.”
Your gaze drifts toward the counter where your phone sits dark and silent. You hadn’t even realized.
“I was asleep,” you say, your voice quiet.
“You never sleep in.” She comments.
“I didn’t sleep well last night.” You shrug.
That part isn’t a lie.
“Well. You’re awake now,” she says.
Her attention moves past you, sweeping over the house like she’s checking for something. The cleanliness, order, signs of a life she approves of. Things that she and Corbyn love.
“We need to go over the wedding details,” she continues, moving further inside without waiting for an invitation. “I spoke to the planner last night, and she said you still haven’t confirmed the … changes you wanted. Also, the florist is asking about…”
“I can’t today.” You cut her off.
“What?” She stops, her eyes staring at you seriously.
Your fingers tighten slightly around the glass in your hand. The condensation has started to drip against your skin, but you barely notice.
“I have plans.” You swallow.
“And whatever it is you think you’re doing,” she says carefully, each word placed with precision. “Is it more important than finalizing your wedding?”
You should say no. You know you should. It would be easier. It would end this, but you can't.
“It is.” You nod.
“What plans?” She asks as her posture straightens.
You hesitate and you hate that you do. You know that it gives her time to fill in the gaps.
“What are you doing?” She presses. “And don’t tell me it’s something insignificant, because clearly you’ve decided it takes priority over your responsibilities.”
“It’s not insignificant.” Your jaw tightens slightly.
“Then explain it.” She places her hand on her hip.
Your grip loosens just enough that the glass shifts in your hand. You set it down on the counter before you drop it.
“I’m helping out somewhere,” you say finally.
“Where?” Her brows draw together, unimpressed.
“At a community center.” You answer honestly, just like Jimin said. “With kids,” you add, quieter now. “Art stuff.”
“I see.” Her fingers start tapping against her hip now.
“It’s just on Saturdays,” you say, before you can stop yourself. “It’s not like it’s interfering with anything.”
“It clearly is,” she cuts in smoothly. “I don’t understand. Why would you choose this of all things to occupy your time when you have far more important matters to focus on.”
“It makes me happy.” Your fingers curl slightly against the counter.
“Happy,” she repeats.
“Yes.” You confirm. “Happy.”
“You have a good life,” she says. “A stable life. Corbyn is…” She pauses just briefly, like she’s choosing the right word. “Good to you.”
“I know.” Your eyes drop for a second before you can stop them.
“Then I’m struggling to understand,” she says, stepping a little closer. “Why do you feel the need to… supplement that with… distractions.”
“It’s not a distraction.” You argue.
“What is it, then?” She sounds exasperated.
“It’s just…” you exhale softly, searching for something that won’t sound as fragile as it feels. “It’s something I enjoy.”
“You enjoy plenty of things,” she says. “You have your routines. Your responsibilities.”
“They don’t feel like this.” Your jaw tightens just slightly.
“And how exactly does this feel?” She asks, leaning in closer to you.
You open your mouth…then close it again. You don’t have a clean answer. Not one she’ll accept.
“I'm not sure,” you settle on finally.
“This is exactly what I was concerned about,” she says, quieter now. “You’re attaching meaning to something trivial because it’s new. Different.”
“It’s not…” You shake your head.
“You don’t remember what things were like before,” she continues, talking over you now. “So you don’t recognize the patterns when they start again.”
“I’m not..” You try again.
“You had a tendency,” she says carefully. “To throw yourself into things that felt good in the moment without thinking about where they would lead.”
“I’m just helping kids paint,” you say.
“For now,” she says quietly.
“Why does it matter so much?” You ask, the question slipping out before you can stop it.
“Because we worked very hard to get you here,” she says. “To give you something stable after everything that happened.”
You take a deep breath and look down at the floor.
“This,” she gestures vaguely around you. “This is a life you can depend on. One that makes sense.”
“And me volunteering to help finger paint doesn't make sense?” You ask.
“No,” she says simply. “It doesn’t.”
“I’m not doing anything wrong.” You shake your head
“You’re losing focus,” she corrects. “There’s a difference. Corbyn makes you happy.”
“I..” Your voice falters. “I don’t…I don’t know if he does.”
“What?” She stares blankly at you.
“I don’t know if he makes me happy,” you say again, quieter this time. “Or if I just… accepted that everyone told me he does.”
Her face hardens instantly.
“I met him when I didn’t remember anything. Anyone.” Your breath comes uneven now, your chest tightening with each word. “He was there and you liked him. You really liked him and I didn’t have anything else,” you admit, softer now. “No point of reference. No… before to compare him to.”
Your mother crosses her arms. You think you can see the veins on the side of her neck start to pop.
“So I said yes,” you continue. “To him. To this. To everything. Because I was told it made sense. However, I don't know if it does now.”
Your mom’s expression shifts from shock before she smooths it back into something controlled.
Contained.
“That’s not how this works,” she says, her voice low. “You don’t dismiss something stable just because you’re feeling uncertain.”
“I’m not … dismissing it,” you say.
“You’re questioning it,” she corrects. “Based on what? A hobby? A change in routine?”
“It’s not…” You start.
“You are overwhelmed,” she cuts in, more forceful now. “That’s all this is. We made sure you had a future. Something good. Something safe.”
We.
“That’s just it,” you murmur. “You made sure. You made all the choices and I nodded numbly,” you admit.
Your mom doesn’t respond right away.
“You’re overwhelmed,” she repeats. “And you’re letting that cloud your judgment. This is exactly why you need to stay focused on what matters.”
“I still have plans,” you say instead, making her eyes narrow slightly.
“We’re not finished with this,” she says.
“I am,” you say. “I have glitter containment to focus on.”
With that, you turn on your heel and head for the front door leaving your mother alone. You were done fighting for the moment. If she wants to plan your perfect wedding, she can finish what she already started.
You’re busying yourself with the supply closet, stacking boxes of markers that don't need stacking, just to keep your hands from shaking.
Every time the door creaks, your stomach flips.
Watch me.
The whisper from the dream echoes in your ears, making the back of your neck prickle. You try to tell yourself it was just the storm, just the subconscious mind playing tricks with old photos, but your heart isn't buying the lie.
"You're going to collapse that shelf if you keep pushing those markers back any further."
The voice is low, gravelly, and directly behind you.
You jump, a box of Washable Neon hitting the floor with a plastic clatter. You spin around, and there he is. Yoongi. He’s wearing a white hoodie today, the sleeves pushed up to show the pale skin of his forearms. His hair isn't the mint green from the photo. It’s dark,but the look in his eyes is identical to the boy hidden away in the bathroom drawer.
"Sorry," you breathe out, crouching down to scramble for the markers.
Yoongi doesn't stay standing. He drops down into a crouch opposite you. He picks up a neon green marker and holds it out. As you reach for it, your fingers brush. His touch from the dream suddenly feels very, very real.
You pull back a second too fast. Yoongi’s hand stays extended for a beat, his dark eyes tracking your movement. He doesn’t look away.
"Rough night?" He asks.
"My mom stopped by this morning," you say, desperate for a safe topic. "She's... not a fan of the glitter containment position."
“Don't I know that,” he mutters under his breath.
”What?” You question, but he shakes his head.
“Nothing,” Yoongi says quietly as he stands up, offering you a hand to help you up.
You stare at his palm. His hand. The same hand that was all over your body in your dream. Before you can take it, Minjun bursts into the room, wearing a cape made of a garbage bag.
"YOONGI! Y/N! The Moon Tree is falling! The gravity is winning!" He exclaims.
Yoongi doesn't break eye contact with you as he smirks. The exact one from the photo touches his lips.
"Can't have that," Yoongi murmurs to you. "Better go help him. Unless you're too busy with the markers?"
"The tree takes priority," you say, trying to sound light and casual.
As you reach the Moon Tree, which is indeed leaning precariously to the left. Hobi is already there, trying to prop it up with a yardstick.
"Y/N! Thank god," Hobi beams, though he looks stressed. "We need a structural engineer and a miracle."
"I've got the tape," you say, pulling the roll from your apron.
But as you reach up to steady the cardboard, you see Yoongi enter the room. He leans against the far wall, arms crossed, watching you work. You keep remembering the dream a little too vividly. The kisses on your neck, fingers on your thighs and suddenly, you can't seem to focus.
"Hey, Y/N?" Minjun asks, tugging on your jeans. "Why is your face red?"
You blink, feeling the heat rise to your cheeks even more as you catch Yoongi’s eye. He definitely can see it.
"Because, Minjun," you say, pressing a heavy strip of tape over a broken seam. "It's warm in here."
"Warm in here," Hobi echoes, fanning himself with his hand and offering you a sympathetic, if slightly knowing, grin. "Tell me about it. This place is a kiln today. I think the AC is just blowing out spicy air at this point."
You keep your eyes glued to the Moon Tree, focused on the jagged edge of the cardboard, but you can feel Yoongi’s gaze like a physical weight against your back. He hasn’t moved from the wall. He isn't helping, but he isn't leaving either. He’s just observing.
"I need more support on the base," you say, your voice a little higher than usual.
"I’m on it!" Minjun shouts, diving into the pile of supplies.
As you reach up to secure the top branch, the yardstick Hobi is holding slips. The massive cardboard structure starts tilting sharply toward you. You brace for the impact of a painted forest, but it never comes.
Suddenly, a pale hand reaches over your shoulder, bracing the tree with effortless strength. The scent of him….something cool, like rain washes over you. Yoongi is standing so close that you can feel the heat from his chest.
"You’re doing it wrong," he murmurs, his voice vibrating right next to your ear. It’s the same tone from the dream, minus the whispered secrets. "If you tape it like that, the tension will just snap the cardboard. You have to reinforce the spine first."
He doesn't move away. He reaches around you with his other hand to take the tape from your frozen fingers. For a heartbeat, you are effectively trapped between the Moon Tree and Yoongi.
"Like this," he says. His movements are precise, his fingers long and dexterous. You watch the way his veins move under the skin of his hands. The same hands that, hours ago, were part of a fantasy that made you wake up gasping.
"Right," you manage to say, your throat dry. "The spine. Thanks."
Yoongi doesn't pull back immediately after the tape is secure. He lingers for a fraction of a second, his chest nearly brushing your shoulder blades. The spine of the tree is reinforced, but yours feels like it’s turned to liquid.
"There," he says, finally stepping back, though he only retreats a few inches. "It’ll hold now."
Hobi lets out a theatrical sigh of relief, wiping fake sweat from his forehead.
"Yoongi to the rescue. As usual. I was about to start praying to the cardboard gods." He gives you a quick, bright smile, but his eyes flicker between you and Yoongi with a sharpness that suggests he’s tracking your every move in the room. "I’m gonna go help Minjun with the gravity situation in the back. Try not to let the forest collapse again."
Hobi hustles away, dragging a cheering Minjun with him, and suddenly the space around the Moon Tree feels way too small.
You keep your hands busy, smoothing down the edges of the tape Yoongi just applied. You don't want to look at him. If you look at him, the dark hair in front of you might blur back into that pale mint green.
"You're shaking," Yoongi says.
"I'm just over caffeinated," you lie, your voice sounding small even to your own ears.
"You didn't have any coffee this morning," he counters. He moves to the side, forcing you to either look at him or stare at a blank wall. "I saw you walk in with a half-empty bottle of water and eyes like you’d seen a ghost."
You finally look up. He’s watching you with an intensity that is almost painful. It’s the look of someone who isn't just seeing you, but recognizing you. It’s the look from the photo in your drawer. The one your mother clearly wants you to forget exists.
"I just had a weird dream," you say, trying to regain some footing. "The storm was loud. It happens."
"What kind of dream?" Yoongi tilts his head, a stray lock of dark hair falling over his forehead.
You swallow hard. You can't tell him the truth. You can't tell him that in your head, he has mint hair and his touch is the only thing that feels like home. You can't tell him that his dream version knows things about your body that your stable life has never even explored.
"Just... the past…I think," you whisper. "Bits and pieces. Nothing that makes sense."
Yoongi’s expression softens, but his eyes darken. He takes a step closer, closing the gap Hobi left behind. He reaches out, his hand hovering near your arm before he seems to think better of it and drops it to his side.
"Maybe your nonsense dreams are your brain's way of trying to work out what is real from the past,” he suggests.
"Why are you here, Yoongi?" You ask, the question coming out more raw than you intended. "Every Saturday. Why are you always here?"
He looks at the Moon Tree, then back at you. A bittersweet smile touches his lips.
“Because,” he says quietly. “Someone I once loved, loved it here.”
You freeze.
Someone I once loved.
"Oh," you whisper. "I... I didn't know."
"You wouldn't," Yoongi says. His voice is flat, but not cold. He reaches out and picks at a loose thread on the white sleeve of his hoodie, his gaze dropping to your sneakers. "It was a long time ago. Before the world got... complicated."
"Was she... an artist?" You shift your weight, your fingers still resting against the cardboard spine he just reinforced.
Yoongi looks up then, and for a split second, the dark hair doesn't matter. The intensity in his eyes is so familiar it makes your knees weak. You think that was probably how he was looking at you in your dream.
"She was everything," he says quietly. "She was the noise and the color. She liked the messy parts of life. The parts that didn't always make sense."
"What happened to her?" You ask, your voice trembling.
"She lost herself," he says, his voice dropping to a gravelly rasp. "And found herself a better life."
The suspicion that has been a dull ache in the back of your mind suddenly sharpens into a needle-point. You think of your mother’s face this morning. The way she looked at you with a mixture of pity and fear. You think of Corbyn’s perfect hair on the perfect pillow. You think of the way Yoongi knew you hadn't had coffee today the moment he saw you.
"Yoongi," you start, stepping toward him. "Do you... do we…"
"Yoongi! The stars!" Minjun’s voice cuts through the tension like a blade. The little boy skids back over, holding a bucket of yellow cut-outs. "We need the tall person to reach the ceiling! Hobi is too shaky!"
Yoongi breaks eye contact, the spell snapping. He draws in a sharp breath, his shoulders squaring as he slides his mask of cool indifference back into place.
"Duty calls," he mutters, though his hand lingers on the Moon Tree for one last second, right next to yours. He looks at you…really looks at you….and for a heartbeat, you see the mint-haired boy screaming to be recognized. "Don't overthink it, Y/N. Like you said... it's just a dream."
He turns and walks toward Minjun. You stand by the leaning tree, your heart racing. You remember the ghost of the breath against your ear from the morning.
You know who I am.
You watch him lift Minjun up onto his shoulders to reach the ceiling. You watch the way his hands steady the boy, careful and sure.
You look down at your hand. The skin where he brushed against you is tingling. You aren't overwhelmed, and you aren't losing focus. For the first time since you woke up in that hospital bed years ago, you feel like you are finally starting to see.
“I wasn't sure if you still liked all the old foods that you used to,” Yura calls from the kitchen. “So… I made a little bit of everything.”
“I'm not that picky,” you laugh as you sit on her living room floor, looking around. “I'm just not a fan of…”
“Spicy food,” she finishes and pokes her head out of the kitchen.
“Yeah,” you say quietly. “Where's Jungkook?”
“I kicked him out,” she laughs. “He and Tae are off doing… something.”
Yura comes out to the living room with a tray of food stacked with plates of food. Yura sets the tray down carefully between you, the soft clink of dishes grounding in a way everything else hasn’t been.
“I kind of got nervous,” she says, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear as she lowers herself across from you. “So I made a mix. Some old favorites… and some safer options.”
You glance over the spread. Rice, a few side dishes, something that smells faintly sweet, something else you vaguely recognize but can’t quite place. It feels familiar in a distant way.
“Looks like you cooked for ten people,” you tease lightly.
“I used to.” Yura smiles, but there’s something careful behind it.
The words hang there for a second.
“Then I guess I’m lucky I showed up hungry.” You say, grabbing some utensils.
She laughs. This time more genuine and gestures toward the food.
“Try that one first,” she says, pointing. “You used to steal it off my plate.”
“Used to?” You echo.
“Religiously,” she nods. “Like, I’d turn my head for two seconds and it’d be gone.”
You pick up a small bite, hesitating just a second before tasting it.
“Oh.” Your brows lift slightly.
“What?” Yura leans forward immediately. “Is it bad? Too much?”
“No,” you shake your head quickly. “No, it’s… it’s good.”
It is good. More than that, actually. There’s something about the flavor that feels… right.
“I think…” you start slowly, searching for the feeling. “I think I remember liking this.”
“Yeah?” She asks, softer now.
“Yeah.” You take another bite, more certain this time. “I don’t remember when, but… it tastes familiar.”
Relief washes over her face in a way that’s almost too quick, like she’s been holding her breath.
“Good,” she murmurs. “That’s… that’s really good.”
“Yoongi.” You chew. “He mentioned we became friends in our art class. That you couldn't stand anyone else in there.”
Yura doesn’t even hesitate. She lets out a laugh, immediate and sharp, like the memory hits her all at once.
“Couldn’t stand them?” She repeats. “That’s putting it nicely.”
“So, he’s right?” You glance up at her, a small smile tugging at your lips.
“Oh, completely,” she nods, shifting to sit cross-legged across from you. “Everyone in that class thought they were the next big thing. Very… brooding. Very ‘you wouldn’t understand my art’ energy.”
“I already don’t like them.” You snort softly.
“You didn’t,” she confirms, shaking her head. “From day one.”
“What did I do?” You ask, leaning forward slightly without realizing it.
“You walked in late,” she says, grinning. “Hair a mess, paint already on your hands…no idea where it even came from…and you just… looked around like you’d been dropped into the wrong room.”
You watch her get a far away look in her eyes.
“And then,” she continues, clearly enjoying this. “Instead of doing the assignment like everyone else…still life, super precise, super boring. You grabbed a canvas and dumped paint on it.”
“Dumped?” You blink.
“Dumped,” she repeats firmly. “Like full-on chaos. No sketch, no plan. Just color everywhere.”
A flicker…quick, almost too fast to catch..flashes behind your eyes.
Paint on your fingers.
Laughter.
Music too loud in a quiet room.
You inhale softly.
“And they hated that,” you guess.
“Oh, they were horrified,” Yura laughs. “You were getting the dirtiest looks. One girl actually whispered that you were disrespecting the medium.”
“No way.” You choke out a quiet laugh.
“Yes way.” She nods eagerly. “And you just….did not care. At all. You kept going. Made an even bigger mess just to prove a point, I think.”
“What point was that?” You ask.
“I have no idea,” she laughs.
Yura pauses, her eyes softening as she looks at the space between you, as if she’s watching that messy, paint-splattered version of you right there in the living room.
"I think," Yura says, her voice dropping to a warm, nostalgic hum. "Your point was that it didn't have to be perfect to be real. You used to say that if you had to plan every stroke, you weren't painting. You were just following directions. And you hated following directions. Every time the professor would try to talk to you about doing the assignment correctly. You would paint your hair out of boredom.”
You swallow.
Yoongi was right.
You did paint your hair on purpose.
“I passed though?” You question.
“Yup, you sure did,” she laughs.
You let out a small breath, something in your chest loosening just a little more.
“Okay,” you murmur. “So I wasn’t completely hopeless.”
“Not even close.” Yura smiles.
Your eyes drift as you take another bite, but this time they don’t land on the food. They catch on something behind her. On the wall there is a large frame with not just one picture but several.
“What’s that?” Your brows knit slightly.
“Oh, those?” Yura glances over her shoulder.
But you’re already leaning, shifting onto your knees, drawn toward it without really thinking.
It’s a collage.
All from the same night.
You can tell by the lighting. The warm glow, the way everyone looks a little flushed, a little too happy. The way everyone is wearing the same clothes.
The first photo…
All of you.
Jin mid-laugh, head thrown back. Taehyung making some exaggerated face. Hobi half-blurred like he moved too fast. Joon looking like he’s trying to keep it together but failing. Jungkook leaning in toward Yura. Yoongi has Jimin's arm slung around his shoulder.
And you.
You’re there too.
Grinning. Bright. Alive.
Happy in a way that hurts to look at.
But then….
Your eyes shift to a second photo and something makes you stop.
“Wait.” You say and Yura stills slightly behind you. “I’m not in this one.”
Yura doesn’t answer right away as your eyes continue to study the second photo. The same night. The same clothes. Clearly taken not too far apart.
“And…” your voice quiets further. “Yoongi’s not either.”
Silence.
“Why?” You turn your head slightly, looking back at her.
Yura opens her mouth and closes it. She looks at the picture before she laughs, a little too quick.
“Oh, that?” She waves a hand lightly. “You guys used to do that all the time.”
“Do what?” Your brows pull together.
“Disappear,” she says, like it’s nothing. “Mid hangout. One second you’re there, next second…gone.”
“We did?” Your heart skips.
“Yeah.” She nods, but there’s something… uncertain behind her eyes now. “It was kind of your thing.”
Your gaze drifts back to the picture.
Gone.
Both of you.
At the same time.
Something about that doesn’t sit right.
“Where did we go?” You ask, quieter now and Yura hesitates just for a second.
“Oh…you know.” She waves it off again, turning back toward the food. “You guys would go off studying together.”
“Studying?” You repeat, not moving.
“Yeah,” she nods quickly. “You guys were weird about that. Always had those big headphones on…like, you couldn’t function without them.”
“That doesn’t sound like what you just said.” You look at her much more carefully now.
Yura freezes for half a second and then laughs again, but it’s softer this time.
“I just mean,” she backtracks. “You’d disappear to go study. Together. Library, empty hallways… that kind of thing.”
Your eyes narrow slightly. Not in accusation, but in thought.
“Together,” you echo.
“Yeah,” she says, picking at her sleeve now. “You were kind of inseparable back then. The guys can get distracting, but you and Yoongi could always get your work done together. That's all.”
Inseparable.
Your gaze flicks back to the photo again.
To the empty space where you should be.
To where he should be.
“We didn’t come back for the picture?”You ask.
“Guess not.” Yura shrugs, too casually, but you notice the way her fingers fidget. The way her eyes don’t quite meet yours.
“You had these headphones,” she adds quickly, like she’s filling space. “Huge ones. And your wires would get all tangled together, so….” She smiles, more genuinely now, grabbing onto the memory. “Yoongi put rainbow tape around yours so you could tell them apart.”
“Rainbow tape?” Your breath catches.
“Yeah,” she nods. “Because you kept stealing his by accident. Or on purpose to mess with him,” she adds with a small grin. “Hard to tell with you.”
A faint image flickers…
Wires crossing.
Hands brushing.
You swallow.
“And we just… studied?” You ask again, softer this time.
“Yeah,” she says after a short pause. “You know… just studying.”
But it doesn’t feel like just that.
Not with the way she said disappear first.
Not with the way she had to correct it.
Not with the way your chest feels tight looking at that empty space in the photo.
You look back at it one more time. Two versions of the same night.One where you’re there and one where you’re not.
And for some reason…
The second one feels louder.
You don’t move right away. Your eyes stay on the frame a second longer, tracing the edges of moments you can’t fully step into. You shift back slowly, settling onto the floor again, but your mind doesn’t quite follow. It lingers on the gap, on Yura’s pause, on the way disappear came out too easily.
You reach for your food again, more out of habit than hunger.
“You guys did a lot together,” you say, keeping your tone light. Casual.
“Yeah. We did.” Yura glances up.
“I mean, I can tell,” you gesture vaguely toward the wall. “There’s… a lot of pictures.”
“I like keeping memories where I can see them.” She smiles.
Your eyes move past the collage to her shelf where a nice photo album sits.
It’s white with fancy writing.
“Is that your wedding album?” Your hand pauses midair.
Yura follows your line of sight and something in her expression changes just a little.
“Yeah,” she says, softly.
“Can I see it?” You tilt your head slightly.
It’s a simple question, but you watch her hesitate.
“Yeah,” she says finally. “Of course.”
She gets up, brushing her hands against her jeans like she needs something to do with them, and walks over to the shelf.
You watch her carefully and the way she handles it.
Gentle.
Careful.
Like it holds more than just pictures. She brings it back and sits down across from you again, placing it between you both instead of handing it over. Her fingers linger on the cover for a second before she opens it.
The first page is her in white.
Smiling.
Radiant.
You feel something twist in your chest.
“You looked…” you start, then stop.
“Happy?” She offers.
“Yeah.” You nod.
She smiles faintly, but her eyes don’t quite match it and you turn the page.
Jungkook, standing at the front of the wedding venue looking nervous and excited.
The next page.
Jin. Taehyung. Hobi. Joon. Jimin. Yoongi.
All there and all dressed up. Your fingers slow as you flip.
Something starts to settle in your stomach. A quiet realization as you keep going.
The bridal party.
“Wait.” You blink.
You look closer on her side. Not women standing beside her.
The guys.
Hobi, grinning too wide in a slightly-too-formal suit.
Taehyung, somehow still making it look effortless.
Jin, trying to look composed and failing.
“The guys were your… bridesmaids?” You ask and she nods. “Why?"
“They love me the most,” she says simply.
Your gaze drops back to the page. To how the space beside her… was filled but not in the way you expected.
“I’m sorry,” you say quietly.
“For what?” Yura frowns.
“For missing it.” You sniff.
“You didn’t choose to miss it,” she says gently as her expression softens.
“How did you know Jungkook was the one?” You ask her and she sighs, rolling her eyes.
“I didn't,” she smirks. “Not at first anyway. He was loud, annoying. I couldn't stand him.”
You tilt your head, a small smile playing on your lips as you imagine a younger, more chaotic Jungkook being too much for the composed woman sitting in front of you.
"What changed then?" You ask, leaning in. "If you couldn't stand him, how did he go from annoying to being the man that you married?"
Yura lets out a long, dramatic sigh, but her eyes are dancing with a warmth that betrays her. She traces the edge of a photo where Jungkook is looking at her like she’s the only person in the room. A look that seems to have never faded.
"Honestly?" She says, her voice dropping into a conspiratorial whisper. "It was you."
"Me?" You blink, a hand coming up to rest against your chest.
“We were in the art room,” she recalls. “You were actually working on your assignment and he was being loud in the hall, messing around and tripping over his own feet. I wanted to yell at him. Then you said he was only like that because he was afraid if he was quiet I wouldn't notice him.”
“Did he ask you out after that?” You ask and she shakes her head.
“You forced me to ask him out,” she smiles. “Told me one date wouldn't hurt. So, I did and here we are.”
“So, I meddled where I didn't belong?” You laugh.
“You belonged,” she says quickly.
You glance up, but she’s already reaching forward, flipping the page of the album like she’s gently closing a door before you can step through it.
“Anyway,” she adds, tone shifting just enough to be noticeable if you’re paying attention. “You would’ve loved the reception.”
Your fingers pause against the edge of the page.
“Yeah?” You ask, letting her lead it away.
“Yeah,” she nods, relaxing a little as the topic moves. “It was chaos. Jin cried. Like… ugly cried. We have photos somewhere but I’m legally not allowed to show them.”
“I believe that.” You smile, the image coming easily.
“And Taehyung somehow convinced the DJ to let him take over for twenty minutes,” she continues, rolling her eyes. “I’m pretty sure he played the same song three times and Yoongi…” she stops for half a second, then continues more carefully.“Yoongi stayed mostly in the back. Kept things running when everything got too loud.”
Your gaze dips back to the album without meaning to.
Back to him.
In a suit.
Composed.
Separate.
“He doesn’t seem like the party type,” you say quietly.
“He isn’t. He hates attention, but he sucked it up for us.” Yura lets out a soft breath.
“Still sounds like it was a good night,” you say as you gently close the album, your palm resting on the cover for a second longer than necessary.
“It was,” she replies, softer now.
The rest of the meal is filled with the kind of comfortable noise only a loving friendship can produce. Yura keeps the stories coming. The time Hobi and you tried to recreate a dance on some stairs and you ended up falling down them. How Jin got kicked out of the dorms for setting off the fire alarms too many times for cooking with contraband equipment."
Just as you’re finishing the last of the side dishes, the front door bursts open.
"I smell home cooking and I am a hungry man!" Jungkook’s voice precedes him into the room. He rounds the corner, his eyes lighting up at the spread on the floor. "Y/N! You’re still here! And is that…" He dives toward a plate of glazed potatoes. "Yura, you’re an angel sent from the heavens."
"I’m an angel who’s about to kick you out again if you don't use a napkin," Yura warns, though her eyes soften instantly at the sight of him.
Whatever you were feeling before suddenly disappears into something more frantic and vibrant with Jungkook there. He’s a whirlwind of stories about whatever Tae had him doing, gesturing wildly with his chopsticks and making you laugh until your chest aches.
It makes your chest ache with longing.
"It's getting late," you say, looking at the window. "I should probably get home. Corbyn will be... wondering."
The mention of his name acts like a cold breeze. Jungkook’s smile falters just a fraction, and Yura’s hands go still where she’s stacking plates.
"I'll walk you to your car," Jungkook says, standing up before you can protest. "It’s dark out, and the streetlights on this block are… moody. Just give me a minute."
"I'm fine, Jungkook, really," you start as he disappears.
"Let him," Yura says, her voice unusually firm. She stands and gives you a quick, tight squeeze. "Come back soon, okay? The brooding artist misses you."
The walk to the curb is quiet. Jungkook walks with his hands shoved deep into his pockets of his sweatshirt, his shoulders hunched. He seems different away from the light of the house. Less like the energetic man and more like someone carrying a heavy secret.
When you reach your car, you turn to say goodbye, but the words die in your throat. Jungkook is looking around the street, his eyes darting toward the shadows.
"Everything okay?" You ask.
He doesn't answer. Instead, he reaches into his sweatshirt and pulls something out. He grips it tight, his knuckles white.
"Y/N," he says, his voice low and vibrating with a nervous energy that makes your heart skip. "I... I can't do it anymore."
"Do what?" You ask.
"Watch you look at us like we're strangers," he whispers. "Watch you go back to that house with a man you don't even…" He cuts himself off, shaking his head. "I can't stand to see you struggle to find yourself when the answers were always right there."
He takes a step closer, his shadow falling over you. He reaches out and gently takes your hand, pressing a cold, rectangular object into your palm.
Your fingers curl around it. It’s a phone. An older model, the screen cracked in a spiderweb pattern across the top corner.
"It's yours," Jungkook says, his voice trembling. "Your old one. From... before."
You stare at the device. It feels heavy, like it’s made of lead. "Jungkook, I have a phone. My mom said my old one was destroyed in the…" You start.
"She's lying," he says, the word sharp and bitter. "She tried to get rid of it. I found it. We've tried to get it to turn on, believe me. Yoongi spent weeks on it. Jimin tried every charger in the city. It won't wake up. It’s dead."
He looks at you, his eyes brimming with a desperate kind of hope.
"But maybe it'll remember you," he whispers. "Even if it doesn't turn on... maybe holding it will help you remember. Don’t tell anyone. Don't tell your mom. Don't tell Corbyn. Just... keep it."
Before you can ask him what he means, before you can ask why his voice breaks when he says Yoongi's name, he lets go of your hand.
"Goodnight, Y/N," he says quickly, already backing away toward the house.
You stand by your car, the old phone tucked hidden in your palm. The silence of the street feels deafening. You look down at the dead screen, seeing your own reflection in the cracked glass.
You know who I am.
The ghost of the dream-whisper returns. You get into your car and sit in the darkness for a moment. Your phone could hold every answer you ever sought. Things people seem to be careful about.
You place the phone in your cup holder and start your car. Gripping your steering wheel you look out at the empty street. You had to get it to turn on. If it was the last thing you were going to do. You were going to get it to turn on.
Summary: All Yoongi wanted was to use the last few months before enlisting to work on his solo projects, prepare for his tour. When the silence left around him as his members started to go one by one got too loud, he needed to find something else to fill in the void. But Yoongi would never have guessed that it would come in the form of you… Someone he would never expect to fall in love with.
Genre: Series, fluff, angst, smut, idol au.
Warnings: 1. In this story, the main love interest is a deaf woman. While writing this series I have done extensive research so that I could bring this story to light in the most respectful, gentle and loving way possible. Having that said, I am not part of this community myself, so if you are, or someone you know is, and if there’s anything you see throughout this story that is misleading, offensive or simply wrong, in any way, please let me know and I will fix it right away! I’m hoping this story can be inspiring and inclusive, it’s something different from others I have done before. 2. I am still calling this a “Y/N” story and not OC, because other than this, no other characteristics are being used (skin color, eyes, hair, etc). So I ask that you please let go of that mentality that if the character has any kind of special feature that isn’t yours, then it shouldn’t be a ‘YN’ story. It would be impossible to write anything that would be interesting and relatable, if I’m not able to give these characters some characteristics that make them unique. 3. While writing this, I do describe sign language, and I am aware that American Sign Language (ASL) is different from Korean Sign Language (KSL). I tried using KSL as much as I could (this story is based in Seoul, as it’s where BTS/Yoongi live), but I couldn’t find everything I needed by google searching and had to mix ASL as well. So please take the descriptions with a grain of salt. 4. I am not a doctor, so even though I did a lot of research to write this, information about certain procedures, conditions and health issues might be incorrect.
Summary: All Yoongi wanted was to use the last few months before enlisting to work on his solo projects, prepare for his tour. When the silence left around him as his members started to go one by one got too loud, he needed to find something else to fill in the void. But Yoongi would never have guessed that it would come in the form of you… Someone he would never expect to fall in love with.
Chapter warnings: Welcome to Yoongi’s interlude. Check out the general warnings in the series masterlist if you haven't yet.
WC: 2.3K
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Min Yoongi was in a slump.
A bumpy, annoying, creative slump. It happened to every artist at some point in their careers, he was sure. Namjoon had gone through it about two years ago. Hoseok did, too, at some point before Jack In The Box took shape. Yoongi’s turn was about to catch up to him, no matter how much ARMY said he was a genius and all that.
Yoongi just didn't want his creative block to happen now.
With his impending military enlistment just around the corner, his time frame was very limited. The window he had to put out his first official solo album was slim as it was, and he just didn't seem to have any inspiration lately.
His lyrics were good, yes, but they didn't resonate with him lately, it seemed. And if Yoongi couldn’t relate to them, how could he expect anybody else to?
After so many years of writing lyrics for others, and writing for BTS, had he lost who he was as an artist? Had he lost his identity? Did he become too soft for Agust D? Were Suga and Yoongi even separate entities at this point?
Yoongi was facing his very own interlude. A time of pause. The space between two acts. He could appreciate the poetics behind it, however aggravating it might be.
Sitting slumped in his desk, staring at the song he was trying to work on, absolutely wasn’t helping. He needed to stretch his legs, look at something else that wasn’t his carefully picked decor for Genius Lab 2.0. And he needed a drink.
Maybe it was too early for the drink he actually wanted, but coffee would have to do.
Yoongi picked up his outer jacket, thick enough to keep him warm on this January afternoon, and fixed his beanie low on his head. He reached for the crumpled face mask inside the pocket of the jacket and tugged it on his ears, leaving it down on his chin until he had to leave the building.
The pandemic was well on its way of being over, but wearing a mask to cover their faces was always a common occurrence when it came to idols, especially when they had to do mundane things and didn’t want to draw too much attention towards themselves.
And going across the street from HYBE, to the coffee shop Yoongi and other idols from the company were known to appear in, was too risky for him not to cover at least half of his face.
It was definitely weird to leave his studio and walk the hallway to the elevator, where both sides of it were packed with art pieces that belonged to Namjoon, and walk by the studios that belonged to his members to find them empty. Now that everyone was doing their own thing, it was rare whenever they were together in the same place.
Yoongi was definitely one to enjoy his quiet time, the silence and the opportunity to be his own self after almost thirteen years of being in a group. He had been the first one to get excited about moving out of the dorm and officially move into his own apartment.
He just didn’t count on how lonely it would be.
Yoongi never thought he'd miss Seokjin’s yells as he played video games at odd hours, or Taehyung’s pouting as he asked Yoongi to cook him something, or the needy moments of Jimin when the younger man invaded his personal space just because.
It was definitely a bittersweet feeling that, most days, sat heavy on his chest. Like an itch he couldn’t quite scratch.
Once the elevator arrived, Yoongi pulled out his phone from his pocket to place his coffee order online; a perk from this particular shop, so he could pay for everything on the app and his drink would already be made and waiting for him to pick it up.
As the lift moved down, with the robotic voice telling him the time and weather, his stomach panged in disappointment as a warning message popped up as he opened the app:
⚠️Dear customers, we are closed until February 1st. We are currently under construction to better serve you! We are sorry for the inconvenience and hope to see you soon.
The warning was less than ideal as now he was craving the coffee fix. Begrudgingly, Yoongi stared at the digital panel on the wall of the elevator, with the numbers and information about what each floor of the building held.
4F Makeup & Wardrobe
5F Dance Studios
6F Music Studios
7F Storage
8F Staff Lounge
9F to 16F Office
17F HYBE Coffee Lounge
Yoongi had never been to the newly inaugurated coffee shop that HYBE installed on the seventeenth floor, but he heard from one of the TXT dongsaengs that the coffee was decent and the baked goods were tasty. He didn’t know what to expect from it, not really sure the music company had enough expertise to open their own café, but he might as well give it a try.
The whole floor was really empty as he left the elevator on the seventeenth floor, quiet even, which he appreciated. Yoongi might be feeling lonely most of the time, but that’s because he missed his members, not people, as the deeply rooted introvert that he was. The natural lighting coming from the big floor-to-ceiling walls surrounding the space was welcoming and warm, not at all representing the snow covering the streets so many floors below.
Light wood table and chair sets were spread around, lounge areas with sofas and armchairs all in the same dark gray color that made up most of HYBE’s architecture. Right at the back, was a square coffee stand that wasn’t big at all, taking away the industrial or mainstream aesthetic he was expecting to find.
In the middle of it, stood only one person. A girl, maybe a couple years younger than him, not by much. It shocked Yoongi that someone so young and, frankly, so pretty, would have been hired by HYBE to work in their building. As much as the rumors circulating around the internet weren’t exactly true –like the myth that women had to be married and of a certain age to work there– this girl wasn’t exactly the type Yoongi was used to seeing around in the company.
You weren’t the obvious kind of pretty, not like the idols he was accustomed to interacting with. You didn’t have any makeup on, no designer clothes. But the more he watched you –like a creep–, he noticed little things that made you stand out. Like the smartwatch on your right wrist; gray band with doodles done with a sharpie. Or the peach earrings on your ears that reminded him of the jelly candy type Jungkook was always munching on after a particularly draining dieting period.
You were wearing the ‘we believe in music’ HYBE uniform shirt that was complimentary for the artists and staff, jeans, and had your hair up in a neat bun at the top of your head. Your gaze was cast down as you wrote something down onto a notebook, so you only noticed Yoongi once he was quite near.
“Hi.” he greeted, albeit a little awkward as your big, almost round eyes stared up at him. Not in recognition, not as if you were a fan, but as if you weren’t expecting a customer to show up. And, with how quiet and empty the rest of the floor was, he didn’t blame you. “One iced americano to go, please.”
You answered him with a smile and a small nod, typing his order out on the register. The price for it showed up on the little screen facing him and Yoongi pulled out his credit card from his wallet to tap against it and the small beep let him know it went through.
“Oh, wait–” he hushed, the face mask slipping from his chin to cover his lips with the movement. “Can you make it a decaf?”
You offered him a new smile before turning your back to him and Yoongi wasn’t sure if he should sit down and wait or just stand there and strike up a conversation to make things less awkward.
He was never really good at the aimless chat, but he could do it to save his life in case you turned around to ask him something. Like ‘the weather is quite chilly today, huh?’ or ‘do you think the snow will hold up?’.
But Yoongi was an observer. He liked to think of himself as someone who noticed things others didn't. So it was only natural for him to watch you make his coffee. If anything, he was making sure you got it right.
He liked the way your hair moved as you shifted around inside your little box, as it was precariously tied up by a blue scrunchie, the way your slender fingers pressed the buttons on the espresso machine, or how you were delicate in the way you put the grounded coffee beans into the powder bowl, neatly pressing it until smooth.
Yoongi must be staring so much that you turned around to look at him over your shoulder. Your eyes were very expressive, he came to find out, avoiding your curious gaze as he looked down at the display of baked goods behind the glass counter.
The man doubted that any of the cakes, pastries, cookies and small sandwiches were really made inside the barely-a-coffee-shop-coffee-stand, as he couldn’t see much more than a tiny oven to heat up the food before serving, but they really did look good.
His gaze was brought back to you only when you placed the plastic cup with the coffee in front of Yoongi, with a plastic straw still on the wrapping laid on top of it.
“Thanks.”
Yoongi bowed his head to you as he teared through the wrapping on the straw and poked it into the lid, pulling his mask down to take the first refreshing sip as he turned around to leave. But as soon as the drink reached his tongue, he stopped.
This was full caffeine, not the decaf he asked for. You've gotten his order wrong, but how hard could that be? There were only two of you there, so if this is how you worked on slower times, Yoongi would most definitely not come back during the rush hour.
“Hey, uh, I don't think this is decaf.” he didn’t want to seem rude as he turned back to you, but you could probably tell his tone was annoyed.
Your eyes widened slightly and your gloss covered lips formed a cute 'o' that almost made him say thanks again and just keep the wrong coffee.
But then you held up your right hand, pointer finger and thumb connecting to form a circle, touching your forehead, then bringing your hand down to a chopping motion over the back of your left hand.
Sorry.
You were using sign language.
And you didn't give Yoongi time to react, gently prying the coffee from his hands to make another one.
Well, Yoongi felt like an ass. Looking at you now, and the fact that you didn’t utter a single word or make a single sound after his arrival, or the way you didn't even flinch at the noises the espresso machine was making, should tell him what your problem was.
Not that deafness or mutism were problems! Obviously you didn't let it stop you from functioning like a normal person! You had a job. You were out and about– because you were a normal person. Obviously!
Get a grip, Yoongi, he internally cursed himself.
The idol couldn't remember when another person made him this flustered, ever. His cheeks were warm and probably as pink as cotton candy. No one had ever knocked down his walls like this. But then again, you didn't knock down his walls, Yoongi bumped into them and, like a stack of cards, they came tumbling down in the midst of his embarrassment.
You were way done with the new coffee by the time Yoongi began to control his awkwardness, debating if he should apologize to you. He didn’t remember much of sign language, really, but he did know the basics.
One of his aunts on his mother’s side was born deaf, so all his life he had contact with the woman, and he grew up to learn how to communicate with her. But being away from home for so long, living in Seoul since he was only seventeen made him more than a little rusty.
Yoongi kind of remembered how to say ‘thank you’, but you weren’t looking at him as you handed him the new coffee. You picked up a post-it note and the pen you were using to write on your notebook, and you scribbled down a note:
‘I’m really sorry. Masks make it hard to read lips. But I’ll remember it for next time! :)’
Having learned his lesson, Yoongi pulled his face mask off all the way and shoved it in his pocket before saying: “It’s okay, really. No big deal. Thank you for the, uh– new coffee.”
At least the fact that you couldn’t hear made it so you didn’t catch the wavering of his voice, or the slight awkwardness he couldn’t completely send away. He didn’t think you could ever hear the fast thumping of his heart even if you could, but it was an extra safety net that he relied on.
You gave him a thumbs up in return and a soft smile, one that was too sweet for this world. Too sweet for him to handle.
Yoongi’s encounter with you stayed in his head even after he was back in his studio, the americano almost over, the ice rattling inside the coffee cup each time he took a sip.
He couldn’t really explain the clenching in his chest as he thought of you, or the fact that you kept coming back to the forefront of his mind as he tried to get back to work. Yoongi didn’t think he pitied you, but he couldn’t help but think of how sad life must be, without music to fill it. Yoongi couldn’t live without music, he’d rather stop existing.
𓄲 Desperate to escape the reality of your own life, you reach out to the last kind of guy someone like you would ever get involved with. Part time dealer and part time sexologist, Yoongi knows just what you need to take your mind off things.
dealer!민윤기 x f!reader ˖ ࣪ ꉂ🗯˙‹— cw first time doing weed smoking high-sex softdom!yoongi overstimulation (f.rec) fingering oral (f.rec) unprotected sex + creampie reader gets called 'Bambi' not proofread
⧽ word count ⋮ 6k
It would never occur to you to do something like this.
The streets are dark and unfamiliar. Windows are boarded up with planks. Tall apartment complexes loom over you, graffiti sprayed across their brick walls in memoir of their artist. The wind tugs on your coat and you pull it a little tighter around yourself.
You would never venture to this part of town, the one you had been warned about so many times before. "Stay away, Bambi. These places are home to bad people." Maybe you should've listened to the once shallow words of your friends and family — but another part of you craved the rebellion.
Being treated like an invalid by those around you was nothing new. 'Bambi on ice', that's what they would all call you. Someone to be coddled and protected, someone who couldn't fend for herself, someone who didn't know any better. You felt like a child among your peers, having never as much as drank or smoked, jesus half your family still believed you were a virgin.
God you hated it.
This was your silent revenge. To disappear into the night, to take control over a life that had never been yours to begin with. From now on, you would be calling the shots, you would be the one to decide what was best for you and what wasn't. If your parents could see you now, if they knew what you were about to do… Guilt and satisfaction blends inside of you like a lethal cocktail.
Your heels click against the pavement, right foot forward, then left, then right again. One more turn, then you would arrive. Checking the decided drop off location on your phone one last time, you brace yourself.
The street you step onto is vacant, save for the single lit streetlight that casts the alley in an eerie glow. "23rd Avenue, third streetlight at 11pm." That is what you had agreed on. You glance at the numbers on the lock screen, 10:55. There was still time for him to show up.
You had found him on a sketchy website, one you probably shouldn't have been on in the first place. From there you had struggled through a very brief conversation, lasting no more than three back and forth messages where you decided on a place and time. It had felt so easy in the moment. The one thing your parents had tried to protect you from had been one text away all along.
Now as you stand under the glowing light, you find yourself in doubt. This was completely uncharted territory for you. Never before had you even dared to consider the possibility of… Not to mention you knew nothing about this man. What if he had tricked you? Could you really trust the faceless stranger whom you had exchanged such brief conversation with.
One painted nail taps restlessly at your arm as you stand with them folded over your chest. You glance both left and right, scanning the alley up and down in search of anyone who might be your guy. Thankfully you don't have to wait long for only a moment later, the sound of shoes against asphalt can be heard.
Your head whips in the direction of the sound, eyes peering through the darkness as you regard the slowly approaching figure.
He's dressed in all black, a thick hoodie thrown over his chest and the hood pulled up to shield larger parts of his face. He walks leisurely, like this was not at all the most nerve wracking moment of his life — likely because it wasn't. This was his job after all, he did this all the time and you were just another name in his book.
The faint yellow light casts him in a sheen glow when he comes to a halt just a couple of feet away. His hands are dug into the pockets of his hoodie, shoulders sagging with exhaustion. "11pm?" He asks, purely out of formality you assume.
Silently, you nod, exhaling the breath you had been holding as you watch him.
From where he stood you could only make out the lower half of his face, the rest still neatly concealed by the hood over his head. The corner of his lip twitches, it was clear he could see you.
"You're early." He casually states, one of his hands moving inside the pocket of his hoodie, the rustling of plastic following.
"Would you rather I be late?" You suddenly retort, only to regret your words as soon as they leave you. Resisting the urge to clasp a hand over your mouth or blurt out a pathetic apology as your expression twists into mortification.
He pauses what he was doing, head lifting just enough for you to catch glimpse of nearly black eyes beneath the shadows of his hood. A chuckle rumbles deep in his chest, like your answer had amused him greatly.
Raising a pale hand from the pocket he'd been digging through just a moment ago, he pulls the hoodie down to reveal himself.
This man looks nothing like you had imagined. To be fair your views had been pretty biased — matted hair, dark under eye bags, an almost sick complexion. But the man before you exceeds all your expectations and more.
His face is smooth, his nearly black hair creeping down his neck in soft locks when he runs his fingers through them. What really catches your attention is the intensity of his piercing gaze, there's something deep and almost alluring in the way he regards you with the ghost of a smirk still on his lips.
"My apologies for remarking on your punctuality", he drawls before reaching into his pocket once more. You look on as he pulls out a small plastic bag, it was packed with something that looked almost like dried leaves. He turns it over in his palm before extending it toward you, "An eighth."
You frown, glancing between him and the bag he held out. "Eighth?" You quietly ask, fingers reaching out to brush against the zipper before you carefully took it.
The man hums, his hand returning to join the other in his pocket as he nods. "3.5 grams, about an eighth of an ounce. That's what you wanted isn't it?"
Oh. Right. A few google searches had told you that it was a standard amount for beginners who were starting out. "Uh, yeah..." You mumble when turning the small bag between your hands. It feels heavy in your palm, despite its very light weight.
"How much do I owe you?"
He only shrugs, "40 bucks."
Holy shit, you think to yourself, already fumbling for your wallet as the frown on your face deepens. "Cash...?" Stupid question, he must think you're an absolute idiot, even worse, the same invalid your family saw you as.
But the man only nods, his expression betraying nothing. He watches as you pluck out the dainty wallet your mother had given you for your birthday, pink and bedazzled to an embarrassing level. Ignoring the tremble to your fingers, you quickly count the bills before handing them to him.
He takes the money, not bothering to do a re-count himself as he shoves them straight into the back pocket of his jeans. After that an awkward silence fills the air between you.
"So..." You quietly begin, still gripping the plastic bag tightly, "Are we done here?"
The man regards you just a moment longer, then he gives a small, almost unnoticeable tilt of his head. "We are." He doesn't say anything else after that and before you can question it, he's turned on his heel and is already walking back down the way he'd come from.
You stand in silence, watching after his retreating silhouette as it disappears in the distance. Gaze dropping to the plastic bag still in your hands, you chew on your bottom lip awkwardly. Now what? Your thumb fiddles with the zipper before your attention shifts back up.
"Wait!"
A few yards away, the man comes to a halt. He turns his head enough to shoot you a look over his shoulder, clearly expecting you to continue.
Swallowing down the lump of nerves in your throat, you fiddle with the bag before sheepishly asking, "How do you smoke it?"
He stands completely still, from this far away it was impossible to tell what he was thinking. Then after another beat he turns back to face you. Listening to the sound of his re-approaching footsteps, you brace for impact. Only, it never comes.
He's come to a stop in front of you, closer now and you can pick up on the lingering scent of cigarettes and something musky. "You don't know how to smoke it?" He hums, voice no more than a low drawl of his tongue.
Avoiding his gaze, you peer down at the cracks in the pavement as you shake your head. You half expect him to laugh, maybe even demand the goods back — instead he steps closer.
His chest is practically brushing your now. Your eyes flit up to meet his, your heart nearly pounding out of your chest as you drink in the smirk he wears so casually.
"Do you want me to teach you?"
At first his question doesn't even register. Teach you? What on earth compelled him to offer something like that so simply... Unless he wanted a favor in return? You wouldn't put it past someone like him. Yet, as you search his face for any hint of deception, you find none.
He doesn't wait for you to respond, "My place ain't far." Nodding off to somewhere over his shoulder, he turns and begins walking once more.
Dumbfounded, you stand with the bag held loosely in one hand, your mouth agape as he walks away from you a second time that night, only this time you don't linger. Your feet move on their own accord, bringing you to a slight jog as you catch up.
"How can I trust you?" You warily ask, eyeing him with barely concealed suspicion.
The man only shrugs, a lopsided grin tugging at his lips. "You can't." He remains silent for a while, letting the sound of your joint footsteps fill the gap before he sends you a thoughtful look, "Can I trust you?"
You purse your lips, thumb brushing over the dried herbs inside the plastic bag. Then you hum out a soft breath that turns into a small cloud of smoke in the chilly night air, "No."
He chuckles, that same deep and raspy laugh, "Fair enough."
His apartment, if you could even call it that, was only a ten minute walk away. The flat consisted of a cramped bathroom, a very small kitchen and a single room where a large bed was pushed up against the corner, dwarfing half the space with its size.
The place was run down, well used by what you assumed to be previous tenants who'd all left a piece of themselves behind. Scratches on the floorboards, a chip in the paint on the walls — it looked just like you had expected the area's accommodations.
Behind you, the sound of a janky lock clicking in place can be heard. A moment later the man steps past you as he walks inside the makeshift bedroom. He takes a seat on the one lonesome chair, situated by the singular window. Then he turns to glance at you, still standing awkwardly in the doorway.
"Take a seat will you?" He hums, reaching behind him to turn on a simple light.
The bed creaks under your weight when you sink down on the mattress. Your heels had been left by the entrance, and your bare feet were staring back at you when you peered at the floor. Despite the warm yellow glow emitted from the lamp, shadows still prowled along the corners of the room, you shudder as you avert your gaze.
On the chair, the man leans forward, one hand extended with his palm up. "The bag", he says.
Your grip on the plastic tightens as your gaze drops toward the bag for a moment, then you hand it back over to him. His pale fingers brush against yours when he takes it form you, dark eyes never straying from yours and you bite back the shiver that threatens to crawl down your spine.
"What's your name?" He suddenly asks, sitting back in the chair as he places the plastic bag on the windowsill next to an unfamiliar pile of thin papers. Plucking the top one, he flattens it out against the cool surface with practiced ease.
Slightly taken aback by the sudden question, you shift awkwardly on the bed. "Bambi", you say after a moment's of hesitation. It wasn't the entire truth, then again, it wasn't entirely a lie either.
"Why Bambi?" He wonders, fingers pausing across the paper as he turns his head in your direction.
You shrug, picking awkwardly at your painted nails with pursed lips. "People say I remind them of one, a deer I mean."
"And do you agree with them?"
He asks it so casually that you almost wanted to tell him that it was none of his business. But the longer you watch him, you find yourself hesitating less and less. "Not really", you quietly admit.
Truth is you hated how your friends and family treated you. Like you were some porcelain vase ready to shatter at any moment's notice. You want to believe that it is not who you are. That is why you were here in the first place.
"What about you?" Your whisper barely makes it past the lump in your throat as you regard him shyly. "What is your name?"
The man, who'd been spreading the dried and crushed leaves in a fine line right through the middle of the paper, pauses. He shoots you a lingering glance, the corner of his lip tugging upward. "Yoongi." He simply states before returning to his work.
Nodding silently to yourself, you watch as he rolls up the paper with precision. Pale fingers moving along the paper, he taps one end lightly before deeming the job finished. Setting the now rolled joint down on the windowsill, he gets started on a second one.
"Is there a reason you want to do weed?" Yoongi hums as he grabs a fresh piece of paper and flattens it out. His tone is casual, if you hadn't been listening you might think he was asking about the weather.
Giving a shrug of your shoulders in an feigned attempt at nonchalance, you huff. "I don't know… I just wanted to try something new I suppose." It wasn't a total form of deception, if you really thought about it. But there was more to why you had contacted him, you both knew that.
"Yeah?" He says, grabbing the plastic bag to pour out more of the dried herb onto it. "Your family got anythin' to do with it?"
You frown, ignoring the way your heart sped up when he hit the nail on the head. "My family?"
Yoongi nods, rolling the paper together before bringing it to his lips, his eyes still peering over at you through his dark hair. "You know, the whole Bambi thing", he muses, dragging his tongue over the paper in order to seal it.
You watch with a dry throat as he does, fingers curling around the sheets beneath you. For some reason you couldn't find it in yourself to lie to him, you didn't think you even wanted to. "I suppose a little…" You murmur, gaze following the path of his hand when he grabs one of the joints and walks over to join you on the bed.
The mattress dips under his weight when he takes a seat, close enough to where your knees nearly brushed. "That's usually how it starts", he says as he fishes up a lighter from the pocket of his jeans.
He turns to you fully, joint between two fingers when he regards you, "You ever smoked before?"
Shaking your head, you grip the bedsheets a little tighter. God, he must think you're pathetic. But Yoongi only nods to himself, bringing the joint to rest between his lips. "It's fairly simple", he murmurs as he flicks the lighter with his thumb.
The flame ignites between the two of you, casting his face in a dangerous glow that makes his sharp features stand out all the more. He brings the fire to the end of the joint, drawing in a breath as the flame catches onto the rolled paper. Then he lets the lighter drop back between you as he inhales deeply.
You watch the ordeal with a mix of both horror and delight when Yoongi tips his head back and exhales a thick cloud of smoke. The murky scent of cannabis that fills the room makes you scrunch your nose in slight distaste.
He hands you the joint a second later and you blink twice before silently accepting it. "Bring it to your lips", he instructs, fingers wrapped around your wrist as he guides your hand toward your face. His touch is surprisingly gentle, but it didn't hold the same edge of faux protectiveness that your friends' and family's would.
"Inhale like you're drinking from a straw." His grip loosens, and you don't comment on the fact that he kept his fingers wrapped around you.
Doing as he'd said, you inhale — forcing yourself not to flinch when the smoke crawled its way down your throat. It was a foreign sensation, the burn scratching at your insides, you weren't quite sure you liked it.
"Exhale", Yoongi murmurs, thumb stroking over your wrist absentmindedly.
He doesn't have to tell you twice as a strained cough suddenly escapes you. Covering your mouth with your free hand, you cough and clear your throat fervently as the aftertaste lingers on your tongue.
"What the—" You splutter, brows furrowing as you regard the joint still held between your fingers.
Yoongi chuckles under his breath, his eyes glinting with fond-amusement. "First timers struggle with that part." He doesn't take the weed from you again, instead he waits patiently for you to gather your bearings, his gaze never leaving you as he does.
"Try again", he encourages when your fit of coughing dies down.
You were skeptical of that idea — and yet you bring the joint back between your lips without complaint. Part of you was already anticipating a repeat of your first attempt, but when you inhale a second time, you find that the smoke slithers down your throat much easier. You still grimace when exhaling, only this time the little cloud that followed resembled that of what Yoongi's had looked like.
"You're getting there." Shifting slightly on the mattress, he finally lets his hand drop back down from where it had rested around your wrist, "How does it feel?"
Pausing for a moment, you try to determine if you felt anything at all. The crease between your brows deepens a fraction and just as you're about to say that nothing had happened, you feel it. A slight tingle behind your eyes, an almost light-headed feeling taking root.
"It's… Good." With a satisfied nod, you take another hit, this one goes even smoother.
Yoongi continues to watch you with the ghost of a smirk on his lips. "Yeah?" He looks pleased to hear that. The air between you grows lighter for each hit you take, the tingly sensation spreading through your head rapidly.
When you hand him the joint he takes it without complaint, inhaling deeply before letting the smoke seep past his lips. The room is plunged into an almost vaporous state, the remnants of your exhales lingering between and around you both. You watch the smoke as it curls in on it self with hazy eyes.
"So…" Yoongi drawls when handing the weed back to you, "Your friends and family, they don't know about this?"
You could hear the curiosity laced within his words. Usually you weren't one to open up so freely. Well, usually you weren't one to get high with strangers — suppose you were past the standards other people had held you to for so long.
With a shake of your head, you scoff, "God, no." The idea of you sitting here as you let the drug cloud your mind would surely ruin any perception your loved ones ever had of you.
And maybe it was the weed messing with your head. Maybe it was the thought of finally breaking free of those imaginary chains that had tied you down for so long. Or maybe it was the way Yoongi was looking right now, like something dangerously close to salvation. You find your voice without even having to search:
"I would never do that." You hum when taking another drag of the joint before handing it over to him. "They don't think I'd dare." A snort escapes you at the thought of your mother's face if she knew, "My parents believe I'm staying over at a friend's tonight." You sigh, letting your hand trace the soft sheets you were sitting on, "I'm too sweet for anything like this. That's what they would say if you asked them."
The corner of Yoongi's lip twitches when he brings the rolled paper to them, "Are you?"
Something about the way he asked that made it seem almost like a challenge. Regarding him with half-lidded eyes, you remain silent for a moment as you ponder your answer.
"No."
You swallow, shaking your head as your finger draws mindless patterns on the mattress. "I'm not sweet. Not the way they want me to be at least."
Beside you, Yoongi takes one final drag before putting the joint out against the windowsill. When he sits back, his dark eyes are filled with something your disoriented mind can't quite decipher.
"What do you want to be then?" He murmurs, brows furrowing enough to tell you that he was genuinely interested in what you had to say. That would be a first for you.
Gaze drifting to where your palm rests against the covers, you purse your lips. What did you want to be? Anything that wasn't the girl your parents had tried so hard to raise, anything that defied the fragile woman your friends saw you as. Finally your attention returns to him. "Reckless", you say, your voice full of confidence you didn't even know you had.
"I want to be reckless."
The words taste foreign on your tongue. Foreign but somehow right. Your eyes meet Yoongi's, there they linger for a moment long enough to be awkward — only it never was.
He exhales quietly, gaze drifting down to your lips with intent as his tongue prods against the inside of his cheek. Then, before you can even question the not-so-subtle diversion, he leans in.
His mouth is warm against your own. His lips are softer than they looked, careful and tentative when they pressed onto yours. Yoongi kisses you slowly, like he was half expecting you to jerk back with a shriek. But you don't. Any other day you might have, but tonight you want to be reckless.
Kissing him back feels right. He tastes like the weed you'd smoked, that and something so strangely him. Your eyes flutter closed when his large hand envelops the side of your face, thumb stroking over your jaw as he pulls you closer.
You let him slip his tongue inside your mouth, the wet sound that follows sending a tingle down your spine and you suppress a shudder. Part of you wondered if this was all the drugs doing, or if perhaps... This was who you had been all along. Perhaps all you had needed was a little nudge in the right direction.
When he pulls back he takes all of his warmth with him. Your eyes snap open, lips parted and an insatiable need for more stirring deep inside of you. "What was that for?" You quietly murmur, eyes drifting down to his hand, still cupping your face.
Yoongi only smirks, the same smirk he'd been giving you all night, only this time it feels all the more intimate, like it was meant only for you. "I'm being reckless", he says.
Your gaze snaps back to his at that, searching him for any hint of foolery. You come up empty handed. "Do it again", fingers already curling around the thick fabric of his hoodie, you reel him back in — and Yoongi lets you.
The next kiss is void of any hesitation as your lips crash together in a mess of hot breaths and barely concealed sighs. Yoongi's hands are on your hips the moment your tongue sneaks its way inside his mouth, a low groan rumbling in his chest as he lets himself be pulled on top of you.
His bed is heavenly soft. The pillow beneath your head feels like laying on a cloud and when Yoongi redirects his attention to your jaw and throat, you gaze up at the ceiling with a content exhale. The room spins slowly, the once intimidating shadows now dance across the walls.
Letting your fingers run through his dark locks, you tug on the ends softly, feeling his breath hitch against your neck as he places another open mouthed kiss to the skin there.
Yoongi makes his way down your body like a man starved. Parted lips dragging across your shirt, he pulls it up enough to press a wet kiss to your stomach before his teeth lock around the hem of your jeans. His hands have moved from your hips, two fingers flicking the button open before yanking the zipper down.
"Tell me to slow down", he murmurs when pulling your pants down your legs, discarding them somewhere on the floor before he parts your thighs.
You want to tell him that stopping wasn't an option in your book but before you can ever think of getting a response out, his nose is bumping against your clit through the thin layer of your panties.
A shiver crawls up your spine at the barest of touch. You were never one to get this worked up over a simple kiss. Must be the weed you tell yourself in vain, fingers grasping at the sheets when Yoongi's fingers hook around the lining of your underwear in order to tug them down.
His breath is scorching hot against your bare cunt. Thumbs stroking the inside of your thighs in a gentle caress, he leans in to press his open mouth against you with a low groan.
"Jesus", he exhales in a rough breath, fingers digging into the soft flesh of your thighs as his tongue drags against you in one motion. "This is the closest to heaven a man like me is ever goin' to get."
You can't even work up a response to that, your jaw slacked as a moan gets pulled from you when Yoongi's tongue comes down on your clit. He presses himself flat against you, sighing in content before lapping at your building arousal.
One of his hands slide down from your thigh, middle finger joining his mouth as he pushes inside of you slowly, savoring the way you clench around the single digit alone.
Your hips move to meet his without thinking as you practically grind yourself onto his face and hand. "More", you gasp, the grip you have on the sheets almost lethal at this point.
Yoongi only hums against you, tongue dragging lazy circles over your clit as he lets you fuck yourself onto his middle finger before gently adding the ring one. "Anything you want", he murmurs, voice muted against the warmth of your cunt.
The weed was doing its job at keeping you dizzy, your orgasm approaching faster than it ever would as your stomach tightens into knots. "I'm…" The sheepish admission lingers on the tip of your tongue, never making it further than that but Yoongi seems to know just what you're trying to say.
"Go on", he breathes, tongue flicking against your clit almost teasingly. "I want to taste you."
Your body trembles, a lewd moan spilling from your lips as your climax hits. The lightheaded feeling intensifies and you screw your eyes shut, thighs threatening to close around the sides of his face at the sheer pleasure.
And Yoongi is there to savor each second of it. His tongue laps up at your release greedily, fingers still moving steadily inside of you as he curls them enough to have you seeing stars.
"Fuck", he huffs under his breath when he pulls back. The lower half of his face is glistening with the evidence of your release and he licks at his lips in an attempt to save every last drop. "Anyone ever tell you how amazing you taste?"
You can't help a short, breathless laugh at that. "Not that I can recall no…"
Yoongi hums, the hand still on your thigh running up and down slowly when he sits back on his knees. Your gaze drops down his body, lingering on the unmistakable strain in his jeans. Despite the fact that your body was still buzzing with sensitivity after your orgasm, you can't help but crave more.
Not late to catch on, Yoongi's smirk grows as he tugs his thick hoodie off in one go, discarding it alongside your pants before crawling on top of you. "One more?" He asks when brushing the back of his hand against your cheek.
Quickly nodding, your hands brace themselves on his shoulders as he reaches down to undo his own jeans. You listen to the sound of the zipper being unmade.
"Haven't got a condom on me", he murmurs, pausing as his eyes search yours. "That alright with you?"
"Yeah. I don't care just—" Bottom lip trapped between your teeth, you gaze up at him expectantly. It didn't matter anymore, nothing did. You just needed this, needed him — and you would be damned if you couldn't have it.
Yoongi doesn't say anything else as he leans down to press a chaste kiss to your lips. You feel the tip of his cock when he drags it against your dripping cunt, using your joint arousal as lubricant before gently pushing inside with a grunt.
Your body pulsates with need, desire pumping through your veins as your nails dig into the apex of his shoulders. The stretch of his cock made you almost delirious and you were close to begging for him to go faster. Yoongi kept a slow and tortuous pace, letting his hips roll against yours like he was afraid of hurting you.
"I won't break."
The words would have shocked you at any other moment, but right now the only thing you feel is determination. You were not the frail little girl everyone perceived you to be. You'd come all the way out here, smoked the weed, kissed the guy you'd just met and you would have him fuck you properly if it so was the last thing you did.
Yoongi peers down at you through dark lashes, tongue dragging across his bottom lip. One hand braced next to your head as he kept himself upright, the other one slides under your chin as he tilts your head toward him. "I know you won't, Bambi."
Then he slams his hips against yours, fingers locking around your jaw as he leans in to seal you both in a rough kiss that was more teeth than tongue.
The new pace he sets is fast and hard, the sound of skin slapping echoing through the bedroom. His tongue invades your mouth without asking, pulling a whimper from you as you feel yourself clench around him.
This was the high you had been seeking all along, the danger your parents, friends and family had all warned you to stay away from. It all took the form of one man, and that was Yoongi. You knew in that moment that one taste would never be enough, you would come to crave this feeling over and over.
He breaks the kiss a moment later, thumb brushing over your chin when he leans back. His hips slow their pace, hand sliding down to rest on your hip before he reaches behind him. Your brows furrow, a silent question on your lips as you watch him bring the second joint he'd rolled to his lips.
Retrieving the lighter, he flicks it once as he sets the thin paper on fire and inhales. The hand on your hip tightens as he brings you closer, cock still buried inside your cunt when he gives another sharp truths and you choke on your own words.
"You'll soon find that one isn't enough", he explains between drags, continuing to fuck you relentlessly as the smoke curls around you.
Watching him with bleary eyes, you reach out to let your fingers trail across the expanse of his chest. His muscles ripple under your touch, a shudder running through him as his cock twitches.
You could already feel your second orgasm of the night building, your body trembling as you fought the urge to squirm. Yoongi notices, of course. His eyes flash with desire, a sharp breath escaping him as his lip curls upward. "Close already?" He muses, thumb brushing against your hip.
When he feels you clench around him with need something inside of him seems to snap. "Fuck, come here." His arm loops around your waist, hoisting you from the mattress in one swift motion as he brings you to straddle his lap instead.
The new position allows him to sink even deeper inside of you and you let out a soft gasp at the feeling. "Yes, please…" You sigh, throwing your head back as your hands find their way back into his hair. There was little restraint in the way you were grinding yourself against him, chasing after your desired release.
Yoongi lets you set the pace, siting back as he takes another slow drag from the joint. His exhale slaps you right in the face, but the smell no longer disgusted you, if anything it only spurred you on further.
"I'm gonna cum" you bluntly admit, it was half a warning half a plea. The arm he keeps around your waist tightens as he wordlessly urges you closer.
With a shuddering moan that vibrates through your chest you allow yourself to let go, pussy fluttering around his cock as you ride out your high without stuttering. The feeling is euphoric, the haze clouding your mind only increasing the bliss of having him so intimately close.
When your vision finally clears again and your movements slow, you find Yoongi already watching you with a lazy smirk. He brings the joint to his lips, inhaling before leaning in to press a kiss to your lips. The breath he exhales goes right into your mouth and you swallow without having to be asked, fingers curling around his dark locks.
His hips thrust up into yours, hard cock spearing through your sensitive cunt and you whimper against him. "Fuck— Can I?" He asks through gritted teeth, the hand holding the joint coming to rest on your shoulder as he peers into your eyes in an almost pleading manner.
You can only nod, forcing your trembling legs to work as you move yourself up and down on him.
Yoongi exhales, lips chasing yours when he gives one last messy thrust. Warmth spreads inside of you when he cums, his cock pulsating in tune with the way you clenched around him. You want to savor this moment, secretly wishing for it to never end — but you knew it would eventually.
When his breathing returns to normal and he goes soft inside of you, you expect him to pull out — to throw his clothes on and have you leave. But Yoongi stays where he is, forehead resting against yours as he exhales.
He regards you through hooded eyes, blinking slowly when bringing the joint back to his lips for one last drag. "How's that for being reckless, Bambi?" He asks as the lingering smoke fills whatever space was left between you.
You smile, fingers playing with a strand of his hair, "Just like I had imagined it."
“aliens” has got to be yoongi’s best, sexiest, and most agust d-like opening verse so far the way he’s hitting the rhymes like a human metronome. jeez, the way he comes in. he’s still got it and i’m so proud.
flawless enunciation, a bit of his signature bass-baritone rasp, bass bumping in the background, electric guitar, getting straight (or bi lmao) to the point, this is no-nonsense delivery. they worked so hard in the studio i swear.
summary. Yoongi's stylist hates you so much for being the main reason why his perfectly pressed clothes are coming back wrinkled, why his buttons are missing, and why his touch-ups take twice as long, especially when the boy's schedule is tight and packed.
But what were you supposed to do when your boyfriend couldn't resist touching you even in the middle of his busy workday? And how could you help yourself not ruin his clothes when he's fucking the shit out of you roughly and impossibly good every time?
author's note. 120 followers in a month? holy shit thank u sooo much! it may not seemed a lot but it is for me. thank u for always showing love & support to my works ♡♡ i am working hard to improve both in writing and using this platform lol. hope u like my little gift, lovelots!! ♡
inspired by: ARIRANG standard vinyl yoongi's version, iykyk. i literally self-combusted when bighit released the blurred preview of his poster— because he has no business looking so damn hot and sexy in those loosened tie, oh please!
Yoongi's stylist rolls her eyes the moment she sees you walking through the door, and it doesn’t go unnoticed.
She’s probably still upset about what happened last week—when the button of Yoongi’s pants mysteriously went missing after the two of you excused yourselves for a moment.
You can still picture her sewing a brand-new spare button onto his pants like her life depended on it because there was no time left before he had to film his part for their album promotion. Meanwhile, you were just standing beside her, skin warm and flushed, mouth spent, and knees red.
Yup, you were the one responsible for the missing button.
And yup, you gave your boyfriend a delicious blowjob that day.
Yoongi’s face lights up the moment he sees you strut your way toward him. Beside him is his make up artist making little touch ups of his make up and a staff member holding a mini fan to keep him from sweating too much.
“Hey, pretty. You came,” he greets you with a soft kiss, hugging your frame a little tighter than he should.
“Of course. My whiny, needy boyfriend has been texting since this morning,” you tease as you return the gesture.
“Your fault for not staying over last night,” he quickly counters, obviously still upset that you went back to your apartment yesterday.
Yoongi has been your boyfriend for more than three years now. All of his friends and everyone in their company know about your relationship, but it’s still hidden from the fans and the general public.
You both like it that way—for extra privacy and security.
These past few weeks, you’ve been staying at his house at his persistent request. But your landlord reached out the other day, asking if you could clear out your delivery packages, which had already piled up and were occupying the space at the security post.
You told Yoongi you badly needed to return to your apartment. Of course, he didn’t like that—but he had no choice.
“Still mad about that?” you coo, linking your arm with his as you lean your weight against him.
The staff that had been surrounding him are long gone now, giving the two of you some space.
“Nope, not mad at all. I’m just saying you’re gonna pay for it later when we get home.” His tone is a little cocky, but you know he’s serious.
“Hm. Can you just let it go? It’s just one night.”
“I slept alone…”
“Okay, drama queen. You’re being ridiculous,” you say with affectionate teasing.
He gives you a side-eye, lips curling upward. “Go on. Keep that attitude, and you won’t be able to walk tomorrow.”
The idea of him punishing you for leaving him alone last night totally excites you. But knowing your boyfriend and what he’s capable of in bed, the possibility of you not being able to walk tomorrow isn’t far-fetched.
“Can I just make it up to you?” you ask, turning to face him and fluttering your lashes prettily to convince him.
“Mhmm. We can arrange that. How about we take five?”
“Oh— you mean now?” you ask, feigning surprise.
“Uh-huh. Yes.”
“But you’re still working, baby. Let’s do it after,” you reason, hoping he won’t push it further.
“No, I’m not. As you can see, only Jimin and Hobi are working.”
Both your gazes dart toward the front, where Jimin and Hobi are busy posing for their unit photos.
“Besides,” he continues in a near whisper, “I was working the other day when I nutted in that pretty mouth of yours. Didn’t seem like a problem then, did it?”
His hand comes up to your lips, slowly brushing the side of your mouth as if collecting something.
“Geez, Yoongi. Can’t really keep your hands to yourself, huh?” you tease again, getting him all worked up.
You hadn’t really planned on stopping by at this photoshoot. But when he sent you a picture of his look earlier, you almost touched yourself.
It doesn’t help that you’re currently in your ovulation phase.
Seeing your ever-so-hot boyfriend wearing sleek slacks paired with a white polo, sleeves folded up to his elbows and a grey necktie, makes you want to jump on him so badly.
“No, baby. I can’t. Especially when you’re out here wearing that skirt, looking like a whole damn meal.”
Shivers run down your spine as he wraps his arms around your waist, his hand squeezing the soft skin there.
“Easy. Your co-workers are here,” you whisper into his ear as you feel him tense.
Yoongi isn’t looking at you. His eyes are fixed on the other members working hard for their photos, but you know you’re occupying his mind right now. His flexing jaw is all the evidence you need.
You know all too well when your boyfriend starts acting like this. If he wants something, he better get it—or he’ll start demanding it soon.
Especially when it comes to you.
The end of this exchange can only result in two scenarios. First, he could become whiny and desperate because you won’t let him touch you. Or second, he could lose his patience from all the teasing and take care of you the way he knows you prefer.
“I really don’t care that much. Want to test that? Come with me and you’ll see,” he mutters, voice deep and low.
“Tempting,” you murmur, resting your head on his shoulder while his arms remain wrapped around you.
“Seriously, enough with the teasing, or I’ll be forced to really punish you when I get you alone.”
Yes. Run that patience thin. You need him to snap so he can rile you up later.
“I don’t think you realize that you’re not the only one upset about last night,” you continue teasing.
“Hmm? Yeah?”
“I had a hard time falling asleep last night. I’m so used to you fucking me to sleep like it’s my lullaby.”
You feel his grip on your hips tighten.
“I wasn’t very enthusiastic this morning either, because I woke up to my alarm instead of your dick stuffing me tight and full.”
His breathing grows heavier.
But you’re not done yet.
“When I showered this morning, I touched myself, wishing it was you—”
“That’s it, lady. You’re really making this hard for me.”
Your plan worked.
Yoongi’s face is now stern, jaws flexing, eyes dark as he grabs your hand and drags you toward the exit.
“Hyung-nim! I’m gonna take five,” he calls to his manager before the two of you leave the set.
He’s not asking permission. He’s just letting them know.
You have no idea where Yoongi is taking you until you find yourself in the area where the artists’ RVs are parked.
He hastily opens the door of a silver RV with his name written on it. He lets you in first, and you step inside without question.
By the time Yoongi locks the door behind him, you barely have time to react. He already has you pinned against the built-in dresser, kissing you torridly.
His tongue demands entrance, and you gladly let him in, deepening the kiss. His mouth devours yours, teeth scraping your lips with rough hunger.
Your hands instinctively wrap around his neck, resting on his shoulders. Tiny whimpers escape your lips every time his body presses harder against yours as your bodies sway together.
You hear the subtle sound of his belt unbuckling, followed by the soft fabric of his pants brushing your feet.
Yoongi’s hands come to your head, gently pushing you downward as he breaks the kiss.
You happily oblige, sinking to your knees, ‘cause you know exactly what treat is waiting.
His hand remains on top of your head as you settle at eye level with his hips. His fat, flushed cock stands upright—tall and beautiful.
You look up at him, meeting his gaze that’s locked on you, lashes fluttering before you wrap your hand around him and guide him to your lips. You flick your tongue over his mushroom head, slowly sucking his tip and tasting the salty precum.
You swirl your tongue around his head while sucking softly, drawing a groan from him.
“Hmmm, yes,” he hums quietly.
When you finish teasing the head, you release it with a soft pop. Without wasting any time, you take him into your mouth—deep, but not quite all the way.
Yoongi’s length is longer than your mouth can fit, but you try your best. You gag slightly when his tip touches the back of your throat, signaling your limit.
Still, a few inches remain.
You pause, adjusting your mouth to his girth. Then you place your hand on his hips for support and bob your head down until his tip brushes your throat. One, two, three bobs, and his cock is fully coated in your saliva.
He groans in protest when your mouth leaves his shaft, but his complaints vanish when you lick a stripe from base to tip. Then you lower your head further, angling yourself so you can play with his balls.
Yoongi’s chest rises and falls with heavy breaths as you press soft, wet kisses across his sac while pumping his shaft. Once satisfied, your tongue traces the underside of his dick, focusing on the sensitive bundle of nerves that makes him spiral.
A shaky groan escapes him, and his hand grows heavier on your head.
“Holy shit… yes. Just like that. Do that again,” he moans breathlessly.
And you do. You make sure your tongue stays soft as you trace every vein along his underside.
Then his dick is back in your mouth again—all the way in your throat.
You hollow your cheeks and he feels the suction hit him like a jolt down his spine.
Mouth stretched obscenely wide around his girth, you started moving your head. Up and down, from base to tip, hitting your throat with gentle pressure each time you sink down. The slickness of your saliva lets you move faster. Your jaw starts to ache, but you like it.
Soon, spit gathers at the corners of your mouth, dripping messily down his shaft and over the hand pumping the rest of his length.
Yoongi loses every coherent thought. Low grunts and curses spill from his parted lips.
His hand slides to the back of your head, gripping your hair with a delicious pressure as you moan around him. The vibration makes his cock throb harder if it’s possible.
“Every day I never forget to be grateful that I get to fuck this mouth,” he pants.
You blush at the compliment.
Yoongi watches you take his cock like the good girl you are, his dark eyes fixed on your mouth as his cock pushes in and out of you with slick obscene sounds coming from it.
His grip on your hair tightens. You know he’s close.
To your surprise, he steadies your head, stopping your movement. You look up at him, his cock still in your mouth.
“Hold on, baby. Hold on,” he whispers, adjusting his stance.
Then he rolls his hips forward, testing a slow thrust.
“This okay?” he asks.
You nod in approval.
That’s all it takes for him to push deeper into your mouth, his tip pushed all the way in, almost past your throat hitting a soft and warm wall, choking you out.
Yoongi begins fucking your mouth. His head tilts back, lips parted as he groans like he’s in pain.
At first his thrusts are slow—pulling out halfway before pushing back in painfully slowly.
When he sees you’ve adjusted and aren’t choking anymore, his pace quickens. Each thrust is short and fast, stretching your mouth wider as spit spills everywhere and your gags grow louder and wetter.
Soon enough the RV is filled with Yoongi’s low grunts and string of curses along with the slick sounds of ‘gawk, gawk, gawk’ coming out of your mouth.
“Coming—fucking—hell,” he groans.
A tidal wave of pleasure overtakes him. His thrusts lose their rhythm as he nears climax, so you take over.
You release his cock with a pop and start pumping his shaft relentlessly with your hand, squeezing him tighter—just the way he likes.
“Baby, where do you want it?” you ask.
His head is still tilted back toward the ceiling. Only whimpers and broken groans escape him.
“Baby, tell me. Where?”
“Mouth—fuck—in your mouth,” he manages breathlessly.
Even in his haze, Yoongi is considerate enough to choose your mouth. He doesn’t want to trouble you by creating a mess on your clothes. Though if he’s gonna be honest, he’d love to cum all over your face and tits right now.
“Nice, now look at me. I’m down here,” you say softly, wanting him to see you swallow.
You watch as your boyfriend shudders beneath your touch. Your hand moves faster, controlled and firm, pushing him over the edge.
When you feel him throb in your grip, you open your mouth, tongue out, hovering his tip above it.
Hot ropes of thick white cum spill from his cock, splattering across your tongue and the roof of your mouth.
You keep pumping until he’s completely spent. Then you swallow every drop. Some spills at the corners of your mouth, and Yoongi watches as you collect it with your finger and lick it clean.
He helps you stand, pulling you into a kiss immediately, tasting himself on your lips.
When he finally pulls away, he squeezes your waist and murmurs,
“Your turn.”
“Thought you’d never offer,” you say, tauntingly playing with his tie.
“You kidding me? If it were up to me, I’d fuck you in every corner of this RV,” he replies, his voice low and breathy.
His hands roam your thighs, pushing your short white skirt upward until your pink lace panties are revealed. His fingers caress your wet folds over the thin fabric, drawing a breathy whimper from you.
He hurriedly guides you onto the empty table, pushing you on your back as he’s about to lower himself between your legs.
“Baby, we don’t have time for that. You need to get back soon,” you stop him.
“Need to prep you first, so you can take me.” He swats your hand away as it reaches for his face.
“You’re joking, right? The number of times I’ve taken your dick—I’m pretty sure I can manage without prep,” you chuckle.
You sit up and slowly unbutton your pink ruffled blouse— three buttons out to reveal your breasts snug in your bra. You make sure to flaunt them in front of your boyfriend.
Then you turn, your back facing him as you lean forward against the table. Your ass presses against his bare cock, which is beginning to harden again.
“If you’re planning to fuck me, you need to do it now before they call you back,” you tease, rocking your hips slowly, your skirt riding up to reveal your ass.
You hear Yoongi quietly gasp. His hand lands against your skin with force as he swats your butt. Before you can react, another slap follows, making you wince in pain.
“Ah—shit,” you hiss.
His hand circles the red aching spot before he slaps it again—and again, and again.
Tears brim at the corners of your eyes as you try to endure the searing pain, unable to form any words.
“Trying to provoke me? Cute,” Yoongi chuckles.
“Yoongi, please—stop with the teasing.”
“Hmm, I thought you loved teasing, the way you did it to me earlier.”
“I need you now—”
“Mhmm?”
Yoongi pushes your panties aside and bluntly shoves his hard cock against your entrance. You cry out, a mixture of pain and pleasure, as your walls stretch around his girth—but he doesn’t give you time to adjust.
He begins to thrust brutally, knocking the air from your lungs as your body scrapes against the smooth surface of the table.
“Hands,” he commands.
You know what to do. You pull both hands behind your back, resting them just above your ass. Yoongi takes hold, making sure they stay locked in place.
Your face is pressed against the table, your hair a mess around you, and all you can do is whimper as he fucks you relentlessly.
The first few thrusts sting from the lack of prep, but as his cock drives into you, you grow wetter and wetter until the loud, slick sounds of your pussy being violated fill the RV.
Yoongi’s free hand moves to your throat, gripping just enough to make your breath falter. He lifts you, forcing you onto your feet. One leg is placed on the table while the other remains planted for balance.
The position opens you up further. He gives your ass one last slap before thrusting into you again.
All you can do is mewl as he moves with intensity—unyielding. Yoongi manhandles you, his touch rough and unrelenting—and you love every moment of it.
His hand moves to your exposed, swollen clit. Letting go of your hands, he works you over, sending waves of sensation through your body.
The feeling becomes overwhelming. His thrusts grow faster and shorter, hitting your sweet spot each time, while his fingers move in firm, repetitive motions against your clit. His hand tightens around your throat.
“Too much—” you protest as everything begins to blur together.
“No, it’s not,” Yoongi growls against your ear. He knows exactly what he’s doing.
Desperate for something to hold onto, your hands reach back, searching for him—but Yoongi abruptly changes his rhythm. He pulls out completely, then slams back into you, making your eyes roll as your fingers latch onto his tie.
“Yoongi—too much!” you protest again.
“I don’t think so. We’ve been here before. I’ve fucked you like this plenty of times—I know you can handle it,” he says, his voice deep and steady.
“Hmmm—fucking shit!” you moan, words failing you.
“Yes, baby, just like that. Show me how well you can take me. I know you can.”
Your grip tightens on his tie as you take every thrust.
“I’m coming—God—oh—you’re impossible,” you mutter, breathless.
Feeling consumed and intoxicated, your body involuntarily collapses onto the table. Your face hits the smooth surface with a dull thud, but it doesn’t make him stop from fucking your from behind.
Still gripping his tie, you pull him forward with you. The fabric tightens around his neck, forcing him to loosen it slightly.
“Stand up, baby,” he says.
You don’t move—you can’t. You stay there, whimpering, gripping his tie as your nails scrape against the table.
“Shit.”
Realizing you won’t get up, Yoongi grips your hips and focuses entirely on his thrusts. He’s close—but you need to come first, so he pushes harder.
Your body jolts with a loud gasp when his tip brushes your g-spot. Noticing your reaction, he targets it, driving you toward your peak.
“Yes! Yes! Yes! Holy—shit—that’s—so good,” you cry as your orgasm crashes over you.
Your release spills around him, making every movement slicker, faster, deeper—until it sends him over the edge as well.
“Inside?” he asks, breathless.
“Inside.”
With that, Yoongi finishes inside you. Your walls clench around him as warmth floods through you, milking him completely.
When he finally pulls out, a mixture of your releases spills from your gaping hole.
A few seconds later, silence fills the RV once more—broken only by your heavy breathing as you both struggle to catch your breath.
The set is still hectic, yet somehow organized, when the two of you step back in.
Namjoon stands beneath the harsh studio lights, scanning the room like he’s searching for someone—until his eyes land on Yoongi.
“He’s here, finally!” Namjoon calls out to the director.
You watch as Yoongi’s makeup artist and hairstylist rush over, fussing over him, checking every detail as he makes his way across the set.
“Yoongi, double time!” the director shouts through the megaphone.
The photoshoot starts the moment Yoongi reaches Namjoon’s side. You stay where you are, quietly observing like you always do, until a staff member monitoring the screen leans in and whispers something to the director.
“Okay, cut! Hold on a second—why does Yoongi look like that?” the director says sharply, turning toward his stylist.
Shit.
Your gaze follows the stylist as she quickly gathers her things and hurries over to your boyfriend, clearly flustered.
“The brief said clean and dapper. Why is his necktie like that?” the director’s voice cuts through the noise.
And just like that, everyone’s attention shifts to Yoongi’s loosened necktie—including yours.
You freeze.
You had fixed his outfit earlier in the RV, but you didn’t think anything of it. It looked good on him—effortless, natural—you assumed it was meant to be that way.
Then it hits you.
The way your hand had grips the same tie earlier. The way you pulled him closer as the two of you mess around.
Warmth rushes up your cheeks.
“Can we leave it like this?” Yoongi speaks up, calm and unbothered. “I like it. I think it’s better.”
The director glances at the staff beside him. They exchange a few quiet words you can’t quite hear.
“Fine. Leave it,” the director finally says.
The stylist exhales and steps back.
As everyone resets, Yoongi glances over at you—and winks.
You try to hold it in, but you can’t stop the smile that spreads across your face.
additional notes. for those who are looking and waiting for 'sweetest vice' fic, i know— i knowwwww. sorry for keeping you waiting, just so you know, i'm working on it. proof-reading is something that i struggle with because the fic is written in english and i'm not a native english speaker, soooo that's one thing. also, i don't want to use AI for it, no, over my dead body.
'nway, i really really appreciate you for being patient and kind. i sometimes find myself wanting to cry as i'm editing it but i just go back to your messages and replies about how much you love that fic. so, thank you!
If you’re only counting weeks before your boyfriend leaves for his band’s world tour, you take matters into your own hands—especially if it's been forever since he last touched you.
genre. smut, one-shot
pairing. idol!yoongi x y/n, established relationship
content warnings. just some dirty dirty smut [giving head through clothed d!ck, panties stuffing, etc] , but yoongi is written by a woman in this fic—eventual fluff.
word count. 2.7k with some bonus
author's note. ok so how do i say this? i'm not planning to write another yoongi fic in the midst of their comeback—but hey, i took a pto friday and monday, so i have 4 freaking days to do whatever i want. hope u like this, mwah!
You are the first person Yoongi—your boyfriend—hugs as soon as he steps into the makeshift backstage at Gwanghwamun Square after their epic comeback performance.
He’s smiling from ear to ear, gums on full display, and you can feel the rapid thud of his heart against your chest as he pulls you close, almost cradling you. The room erupts in cheers around you, all for the band—this return has been long awaited, a moment that already feels like history in the making.
“You did amazing, honey. Sooo amazing. You looked incredible on stage,” you say, fingers slipping into his perfectly styled hair.
He’s glowing—happy, proud, still riding the high of adrenaline. When he leans in to kiss you, though, you tilt your head just enough that his lips land on your cheek instead. Subtle, but intentional. He notices, of course.
It’s nothing serious—just a small, petulant act of revenge from your argument this morning. His reasons still echo in your mind, making you upset, but even that will not stop you from showing up and supporting your boyfriend on special days like this.
You see the faintest hint of a pout forming, but before he can say anything, Namjoon calls him over for a debrief with the rest of the members. You slip out of his arms and let him go, turning to gather his things. You hand his casual clothes to his assistant for him to change into, then make your way to his car.
The argument you had this morning could be seen as either a problem or a non-problem, depending on how you look at it.
It started the night before. You’d hinted—gently at first—that you wanted to have sex. He refused, saying he was too tired. You even offered to do all the work, but he shook his head, saying his body wouldn’t cooperate anyway. He promised he’d make it up to you in the morning, and you let it go.
But when morning came, he was already dressed, rushing out saying he’s gonna be late for their final rehearsal.
That’s when you snapped.
The last time you’d been intimate was his birthday—two weeks ago. Not that long, you tried to convince yourself. But you’re both adults, in your late twenties and early thirties, in a loving relationship. This part of your life should be the peak of your sex life.
Though, it hadn’t always been like this. Even during the album production, no matter how long he stayed in the studio, he still finds time to fuck you night and day, the time doesn’t matter. When rehearsals and tour prep began, things slowed down a bit—still you’re getting something, but not like this. These past two weeks felt different—like a quiet drought you couldn’t quite understand.
And with his schedule only getting busier from here, a small, irrational fear has started to grow that you might be practicing celibacy moving forward.
So you picked a fight this morning, it wasn’t hard anyways.
You let your frustration pent up, from when he came home the other day with his hair cut short. You still remember your dramatic gasp as you cried, ‘Nooo, what did you do?’ when you first saw it, the way you mourned his long, flowing hair that both you and his mother adored.
But still, you're a fool to deny that the new hairstyle does not suit your boyfriend. He looked so hot, absolutely rocking the short hair.
Between that and the lack of sex fueled the argument, mostly the latter.
About half an hour later, the car door swings open and Yoongi slides in beside you. You keep your eyes on your phone, pretending to be busy, not sparing him a glance. When the car starts moving, he reaches for your hand.
“Hey… still mad about this morning?”
“Mm-hmm,” you hum, not bothering to deny it.
You hear him sigh softly. He unbuckles his seatbelt and scoots closer, wrapping an arm around your waist, resting his chin on your shoulder as he breathes in the scent of your neck.
“I’m sorry, baby,” he murmurs. “I know I’ve been a shitty boyfriend lately—not making enough time for you. My schedule’s been insane. By the time I get home, I barely have any energy left. But you understand why I’m doing all this, right?”
You do. That’s the problem.
He isn’t a bad boyfriend—not really, except his recent restraint from touching you but you digress. Despite everything, he still makes sure you don’t feel left behind. He eats with you when he can, talks with you, cuddles you close whenever there’s a moment to spare.
It’s just the lack of sex. And right now, it feels like the only thing you need.
When you don’t respond, he peppers soft kisses along your neck, his hand tracing the curve of your waist. You curse yourself when your body almost reacts, your eyes fluttering shut despite your resolve. Thinking you would say yes for a car sex if he offers even if his driver is inside.
His lips linger, teasing, knowing exactly what he’s doing.
“You know I love you, right?” he whispers against your skin.
You hum in response—something dangerously close to a whimper. Then, just as suddenly, he pulls away and settles back into his seat.
Your body betrays you, leaning slightly in his direction, chasing the warmth he just took with him. God, you feel desperate right now.
“I promise I’ll make it up to you when I get back from the States,” he says.
You roll your eyes, and he chuckles.
Right. He’s flying out tomorrow with the rest of the group for their U.S promotions. A few days, maybe a week or two—you hadn’t really listened when he explained it. All you could think about was how much worse things would feel with him gone.
He wanted you to come. Hell, he insisted for you to come. But your little pastry shop business needs you. You’re launching a new branch and rolling out a new menu—you can’t afford to be away.
Which is exactly why tonight matters. You’ve already decided, no more waiting. Tonight, you’re having sex with him—no matter what it takes. Even if you have to tie him down. It’s happening or you’ll completely lose your mind.
"Take out for dinner?" Yoongi asks, slumping onto the couch.
You watch him open his delivery app, scrolling through food choices as his cat, Tang, jumps onto his lap and cuddles him.
"I cooked dinner before I left. Lemme just reheat it," you say, picking Tang up from his lap.
Yoongi lazily reaches for your hips to hug you. "Can't help but feel bad, my girlfriend got mad at me this morning for not taking care of her, but she still makes dinner." You can see his lips pouting as he snuggles into you.
A faint giggle escapes your lips, one he doesn’t catch. You squirm out of his grip, still holding the cat in your arms, then walk away without saying a word.
"Babeeeee, I'm sorry. Can we please make up already?" he groans like a child, his feet lightly stamping on the floor.
When you get back to the couch, the TV is already playing their live performance from earlier. You open a can of beer before handing it to him, which he gladly accepts.
"Dinner?" he asks.
"In a few. I'm just reheating it," you reply, sitting beside him.
"And Tang?"
"Playing in the other room," you whisper, fingers tracing his knees.
The air shifts from your gesture alone. Yoongi is intently watching what you’ll do next, laid back against the couch, manspreading.
You slowly slide between his legs, your knees and feet resting flat on the floor. Both of your hands roam his thighs. Yoongi can’t take his gaze off you, sipping on his beer. You return his stare, locking eyes with him as they grow heavier by the second.
The show playing on the TV fades into background noise as you start palming his clothed groin. You specifically chose those grey sweatpants for him to change into after the show for this very purpose.
Yoongi tilts his head back as you gently massage his growing bulge. If you were being honest, you were a little nervous to see if he’d get hard from your touch after an exhausting day—but that thought vanishes the moment you feel him growing under your palms.
"Guess we’re doing this right no—" he sharply sucks in a breath when you start licking over his clothed bulge.
The texture is rough against your tongue. The fabric dries your mouth, but you keep going for the sake of the show.
You’re not planning on making this easy for him though.
You start planting soft kisses on his crotch, moving up to his belly button. Your teeth nip at his loose white shirt, exposing his lower belly as your tongue traces the baby hairs there.
Slowly rising to your feet, you shift your focus to his neck—licking and kissing his Adam’s apple, up to his jaw, then his ears. You can feel his chest rising and falling with heavy breaths. You smirk.
You want to tell him that his excuse about his body might not respond the way it should is complete bullshit.
A loud ding from the microwave breaks the moment. You stand fully and lean close, whispering into his ear.
"Dinner will be served soon."
Then you walk away.
Yoongi sucks in a breath again, as if he’s been holding it this whole time. You expected him to follow you to the kitchen, but he doesn’t move. He doesn’t want to. He’s hard and desperate because of you, and it’s driving him insane knowing you might not follow through.
You quietly return to the living room where your dazed boyfriend is waiting. You only head to the kitchen to grab two glasses of whiskey, filling them halfway for the thrill.
"Bottoms up," you say, clinking glasses.
His eyebrow lifts in amusement, but he still downs the whiskey, and you do the same.
The moment the glasses leave his mouth, you press your lips against his—kissing him roughly, tasting the bitter liquor between your tongues.
Yoongi’s hands settle at the small of your back, holding you steady.
When you pull away, both of you are breathless. He leans in for another kiss, but you press a hand against his chest, pushing him back against the couch.
"Take this off," you demand, nudging his knees.
Yoongi looks amused, like this is all a dream. Throughout your relationship, you’ve never taken control—not once. That was always his role. He’s never seen you like this.
Without hesitation, he slips off his sweatpants and underwear while you remove your shirt, leaving your black lace bra hugging your breasts.
He looks at you like he’s never seen your body before.
"Ah—" Yoongi gasps as your warm tongue meets his shaft, giving it light, teasing licks.
You grip his base with your hands as you focus on the tip, lapping at it and tasting the salty precum.
"Oh, fu—god!" he groans, his chest heaving as you take nearly half of him into your mouth in just one go.
His hand instinctively moves to your head, wanting to push you deeper—but you swat it away.
"No touching," you warn, pulling off him.
You pump his shaft a few times before taking him in again, going as deep as you can until his tip brushes the back of your throat. You moan around him as you feel that pressure—exactly what you’ve been craving for weeks.
Yoongi becomes a mess as you bob your head up and down, deep-throating him like your life depends on it. Saliva drips from the corners of your mouth, coating his length.
You swear you hear him whine when you pull away. A smirk tugs at your lips as you stand.
You keep just enough distance so he can’t reach you. You unhook your bra, tossing it aside, revealing your perfectly plump breasts.
Then you slip off your panties, keeping your tight plaid skirt on. You step closer, your panties still in your hand.
He reaches for you again, but you swat him away with a look.
"I said no touching for you today," you scoff.
The frown on his face disappears the moment you straddle his lap, your slick folds brushing against his cock. He exhales sharply at the contact, eyes rolling.
You’re amazed at how sensitive he is right now making it hard to understand the willpower he's displaying the past weeks.
As you start rocking your hips, gliding his thick cock between your folds, Yoongi loses all coherent thought.
"Mmhn—baby, let me eat you first—please," he struggles to say.
"No, baby, you’re exhausted and tired," you mock him back.
His knuckles turn white as he grips the couch, resisting the urge to touch you.
You lift yourself slightly, guiding him to your entrance.
"You sure you don’t want me to prep you?" he asks.
"Ohhh— shit, can you shut up? I’m trying to—uhmm—fuck!" you gasp as you sink down, taking half of his aching cock.
Yoongi throws his head back, moaning shamelessly as your warmth engulfs him. When you bottom out, his lips form into an ‘o’, and you take it as a chance to stuff your lace panties into his mouth.
He’s shocked—but not complaining. In fact, he's loving every bit of this side of yours.
"Fucking—hell," he groans through the fabric as you start bouncing on his cock. His hands are pathetically gripping the couch, aching to touch you.
You lean forward, wrapping your arms around his neck as you move faster—ass almost twerking on his dick. The aggressive sound of skin slapping against skin fills the room, tangled with your moans and his unrestrained grunts.
You whine and whimper from the pleasure, trying to keep your voice as quiet as you can. Meanwhile, Yoongi has no plans of being quiet whatsoever. His scandalous moans overpower yours—deep, low, and loud. He grunts in the most seductive way, fueling your performance.
You feel your legs giving out from bouncing, so you switch to grinding instead. You bury your face in his neck as you roll your hips, losing your mind from how deeply he’s settled inside you. His cock stretches you open—the sensation is familiar, yet still overwhelming against your tightness.
"Fuck—im only asking for this, how—oh god!—how hard can it—be? fuck!" you pant, grinding your hips faster, pushing more of him inside of you.
You’re completely losing it as his throbbing cock brushes that sensitive spot inside you over and over again.
“See what you’re missing out on?” you ask between soft whimpers, dragging your hips up—almost pulling out—then, without warning, slamming back down and clamping hard around him. You do this again and again until your body shakes and your walls clench tightly around him, followed by your hot release spilling all over his cock.
You’re trembling from how good your orgasm feels—you didn’t even notice that Yoongi’s hands are already on your back, soothing you as you ride out your mind-blowing high. But you feel too good to care about him touching you.
Your spent body fully collapses on top of him. After giving you a few minutes to recover, Yoongi speaks. “Baby, I’m not done yet.” His voice is soft, almost pleading instead of demanding.
You let out a weak chuckle, still shaken from your climax. But you didn’t move, even though his throbbing, swollen cock is still inside you.
Yoongi shifts slightly, groping your ass to lift you a little, then starts thrusting his hips—fast, brutal, and unyielding.
His cock driving relentlessly into your cunt reminded you how sensitive you still are You bite down on the skin of his collarbone as he fucks you at an animalistic pace, chasing his own peak.
"Mhmm… about—to come again," you whimper, and after a few more thrusts, a second orgasm overtakes your body.
You clench around him tightly, choking his twitching cock with pleasure, making everything feel overwhelming—until you feel another spasm inside you. His cock throbs, spurting thick, hot loads inside you—again and again, until some spill out of your cunt.
bonus.
When Yoongi leaves, you are still asleep. He tries waking you gently, but you are too tired to keep your eyes open. All you manage is a peck on his lips and a whispered, “Have a safe flight,” before drifting back to sleep.
Even though his flight is early today, Yoongi is in a surprisingly good mood—definitely thanks to last night, and to you. He promises himself not to let it happen again, explaining that his busy schedule over the past two weeks has made him oblivious to your needs. Still, he feels a twinge of disappointment that you cannot join him in the U.S. Even if it’s only for promotions, he hates the thought of leaving you alone after neglecting you for two weeks.
Right now, he and the members are gathered in the artist lounge at HYBE for a final briefing before heading to the airport. Even so, he already misses you.
His manager hands him three luggage tags for tracking purposes during baggage claim.
“Hyung-nim, I only have two suitcases,” Yoongi says, frowning in confusion.
“Oh, this one’s yours too,” his manager replies, rolling a small silver suitcase toward him. “Y/N told me yesterday to include this in your belongings.”
Yoongi blinks, certain he hasn’t asked you to pack anything. To make sure, he opens the suitcase.
Inside, he finds his favorite blanket—the one he loves to snuggle with while sleeping—along with vitamins, emergency medicines, cute black-cat band-aids, mosquito repellent, travel-sized toiletries that he’s using, some cat food because you know how much he loves feeding strays if he sees one, and a few of his favorite snacks.
Nestled among the items is a sticky note with a handwritten letter from you:
Baby,
Have a safe flight! I prepared this for you as a surprise, hope you like it. Good luck on your promotions! you’re going to do great, I just know it. Come back to me as soon as you can. I love you always! ♥
Yoongi cannot help but smile as he reads your note. He carefully folds it and tucks it into his wallet—it’ll be his lucky charm for this work trip.
As you’re sleeping beside him last night, Yoongi has been thinking of sending you flowers every day until he comes home, so you won’t feel lonely while he’s gone. What a relief that he decides to go for it, stopping by the florist earlier before heading to the office to arrange daily deliveries of flowers for you.
He personally chooses each bouquet, making sure they are different every day and exactly the ones he knows you will love. He also writes small cards with simple messages—reminders of his love, enough to let you feel his presence even from miles away.
Summary: Finally, after marrying the love of your life everything is coming together. Now, it's up to the two of you to tackle the biggest step in your life. Parenthood. Will it open old wounds or will it bring everyone closer together?
Pairing: Husband Yoongi x Pregnant Reader
Genre: Romance, Fluff, Low Angst,
Warnings: Swearing, Arguments, Unprotected Sex, Pregnant Sex
The first thing you notice, one week later, is that you are no longer allowed to exist independently.
It starts small.
You stand up from the couch. A second later, so does Yoongi. You walk toward the kitchen. He follows. You stop. He stops.
You turn slowly. He pretends to look at a completely blank wall like it suddenly holds the secrets of the universe.
“Yoongi.” You narrow your eyes.
“Hm?” He hums, looking away from the acting like he was surprised to see you there.
“Why are you moving when I move?” You question.
“I live here,” he replies calmly. “Are you implying I’m not allowed to walk around my own house?”
“That’s not what I’m implying,” you say slowly. “I’m implying that you’ve followed me to the kitchen, the bathroom door, the hallway, and back to the couch in the last ten minutes.”
“That sounds like coincidence.” He comments.
“That sounds like stalking.” You reply.
“That sounds like concern.” He states.
“Oh my god,” you mutter, turning away again, entering the kitchen and reach for a glass in a top cupboard.
Before your fingers even touch it a hand appears. Yoongi quickly grabs the glass for you and fills the glass with water. He holds it out for you to take and you freeze.
“How long are you going to do this?” You ask, as you take the glass from him.
“I'm not doing anything,” he says.
You stare at him. He’s serious. Dead serious. You exhale sharply through your nose.
“This is exactly what I mean. You’re hovering,” you sigh.
“I am not hovering,” he argues.
“You got me a glass when I can do it myself,” you say.
“I was right here,” he tells you.
“And so was I!” You exclaim.
“You could barely reach,” he counters instantly, making you pause.
He raises an eyebrow and you squint at him.
“I can reach,” you argue.
“You’re thirty-one weeks pregnant,” he argues back.
“I’m not ninety.” You throw your hands up.
“You scared me!” He clenches his jaw some.
That… stops you.
Just for a second.
Just enough for his expression to slip just a little.The argument fades away for the worry underneath to really show.
“You need to relax,” you tell him while trying to lose any bite to your tone.
“I am relaxed.” He looks down to the floor taking a deep breath before running a hand over the back of his neck.
“You followed me into the hallway at three in the morning when I went to the bathroom,” you explain. “I was quiet when I got out of bed. How did you even hear me?
“You could have slipped,” he says, looking back up at you through the strands of hair that have fallen into his eyes.
“On what? Air?!” Your bite was starting to come back.
“You don’t know that.” He argues again and you stare at him.
Long.
Hard.
“I’m calling backup.” You shake your head at him.
“Backup?” His eyes narrow slightly at the sight of you reaching for your phone on the counter.
“Yes. Because clearly, I cannot handle this situation alone,” you tell him.
“You’re being dramatic.” He shakes his head at you.
“I’m about to invite witnesses into this house.” You laugh. “Then we will see who is being dramatic.”
“That sounds like a threat,” he says.
“It is.” You nod your head.
Your thumb hits send. It doesn’t take long for your phone to buzz instantly. You don’t even have to look. You already know.
Another buzz.
“Oh, you’re in trouble now.” You smile slowly, looking down at your phone.
“I’m not worried.”Yoongi crosses his arms.
“Oh, you should be.” You glance up at him.
Another buzz.
“Lisa says …and I quote … ‘On my way. I’ve been waiting for this.’” You read it out loud.
“Of course she has.” Yoongi exhales through his nose. “Shouldn't have given her permission to come back.”
Another message.
“Jisoo says, ‘Is he hovering again? I told you he would.’”
You beam as you continue to read your phone.
Validation.
Beautiful, immediate validation.
“Fine,” he mutters, shaking his head, already turning toward the stairs. “Call your little intervention.”
“Where are you going?” You ask.
“Downstairs to the studio.” He answers.
“Alone?” You ask.
He pauses and turns back. He looks at you like you just asked something ridiculous.
“Bring your blanket,” he tells you.
“Yoongi.” You close your eyes.
“No stairs for you alone,” he comments.
“I can walk downstairs.” You argue.
“With supervision,” he says simply.
“I don’t need supervision.” You wanted to stomp your foot.
“You’re coming with me.” He crosses his arms.
“You are not making me sit in your studio for hours.” You shake your head.
“You like the studio,” he tells you.
“I like it when I choose to be there,” you say.
“You’re choosing now.” He blinks rapidly.
“I am absolutely not choosing.” You shake your head again.
He walks back toward you reaching for your hand.
“You’re coming with me,” he repeats quietly. “Please?”
Giving up, you let him pull you toward the stairs.
Just this once.
But as you go, you glance at your phone again. You see another message from Lisa.
Lisa: Tell him I’m bringing snacks and attitude
You smile.
The home studio has always been one of your favorite places next to your own art studio out back.
Dim lighting.
That quiet, focused energy that seemed to follow everywhere he worked. Usually… it was calming.
Today?
It felt like you were under surveillance.
You sit on the small couch tucked against the wall, wrapped in your blanket like he insisted, a pillow behind your back, another under your arm. Yoongi sits at his desk, headphones on, already working.
For a moment, you sit there in the silence. You relax slightly. Maybe this will be fine. Maybe he’ll get into his zone and ….
His chair turns.
“You okay?” He asks.
“Yes,” you say.
He studies your face for a second. Then nods and turns back.
You exhale.
Okay.
That’s fine.
“You need water?” This coming only thirty seconds later.
“I have water.” You answer.
“You didn’t drink it.” He replies.
“I just sat down,” you say.
“You should stay hydrated.” He looks over his shoulder at you.
“I am hydrated.” You state.
He turns back again. You narrow your eyes at his back.
A full minute passes of silence.
Progress.
Then you had to shift slightly. The chair spins again.
“Don’t twist like that!” He looks alarmed.
“I adjusted a blanket.” Your head snaps toward him.
“You leaned.” His hands are practically gripping his arm rests.
“I leaned two inches.” You grab your blanket.
“That’s still leaning.” His fingers start tapping.
“Oh my god.” You slap the couch and he pulls one side of his headphones off now. “You cannot produce music like this.”
“I’m producing fine,” he says.
“You’ve checked on me six times.” You point at him.
“That’s not true,” he tells you.
“It is true. I can see your reflection in the monitor, ” you accuse.
“It might be true.” He admits, making you drop your head back.
“I’m being monitored.” You groan.
“You’re being taken care of.” He corrects.
Your phone buzzes immediately.
“Oh, they’re here.” You smile.
“I’m not worried.” He leans back in his chair.
“You should be.” You whisper.
The doorbell rings.
Once.
Twice.
Then aggressive knocking.
“OPEN THE DOOR OR I’M COMING IN!” Lisa yells through the doorbell camera. “AND I ALREADY HAVE PERMISSION, BUDDY!”
“That’s...” You light up instantly.
“I know who that is,” Yoongi mutters as a second voice follows.
“Lisa, don’t break the door. Let me use the code,” Jisoo says, much calmer.
“...Backup.” You finish.
“Stay here.” Yoongi sighs, already standing.
“I can answer the door.” You roll your eyes.
“No.” He shakes his head.
“I want to answer the door,” you say, tired of this circle.
“No,” he says again.
Just as he was about to head for the studio door. The door leading to the stairs opens.
“OH MY GOD,” Lisa’s voice echoes. “WHERE IS SHE? IS HE BEING WEIRD?”
You smile. Yoongi closes his eyes briefly.
“I should’ve gotten a lock for that door.” He whispers to himself.
“Let’s assess the situation before you escalate.” Jisoo whispers loudly.
Footsteps approach.
Fast.
Lisa bursts through the studio door and looks around. She sees you and sees Yoongi. Her expression shifts instantly into vindication.
“Oh, this is bad,” she says with a slight smirk.
Jisoo steps in behind her, taking in the scene more quietly.
Her eyes move from you… to Yoongi… to the blanket, the pillows, the setup. A small, knowing look crosses her face as well.
“You brought her to the studio,” she says calmly.
“She wanted to come,” Yoongi replies.
“I did not,” you disagree.
“You agreed,” Yoongi says.
“You insisted,” you argue.
“He relocated you.” Lisa gasps. “You don't let the kidnapper relocate you.”
“I did not relocate her!” Yoongi exclaims. “I DID NOT KIDNAP MY WIFE!”
“You absolutely relocated her!” Lisa gives him an unimpressed look.
“Okay. Pause.” Jisoo raises her hand slightly.
Everyone stops.
“How are you feeling?” She looks at you.
“Fine,” you say. “Just… overly supervised.”
Jisoo nods once as she looks at Yoongi.
“How long has this been happening?” She asks your husband, making him hesitate.
“A week,” he admits. “Maybe it's gotten out of hand.”
“A WEEK?!” Lisa throws her hands up.
“Okay.” Jisoo exhales slowly. She steps closer, still calm. “You’re overcorrecting.”
“I’m …” Yoongi starts.
“You are,” she says simply, cutting him off.
“He’s spiraling.” Lisa nods aggressively.
“I am not spiraling.” He crosses his arms.
“You followed her to the bathroom, didn’t you?” Lisa cuts in.
Yoongi pauses.
Too long.
“I KNEW IT.” Lisa gasps.
“At three in the morning,” you add.
“It was dark,” he defends.
“It’s always dark at three in the morning!” Lisa snaps.
Jisoo presses her lips together, holding back a smile before she looks back at you.
“Are you uncomfortable?” Jisoo asks and you hesitate.
“A little.” You nod.
That’s all she needs.
“Okay. We’re adjusting.” Jisoo claps her hands.
“I don’t need adjusting…” Yoongi starts.
Jisoo turns to him.
Calm.
Direct.
“You scared yourself last week more than she did. You weren't there when it happened. People were in a panic,” Jisoo says and he goes quiet. “Now you’re trying to control everything so it doesn’t happen again.”
“Therapy.” Lisa crosses her arms.
“Not helping,” Yoongi mutters.
“But she’s okay,” she adds, gesturing to you. “And you hovering like this isn’t helping her relax.”
Silence.
Yoongi exhales slowly.
Lisa, sensing weakness, immediately jumps back in.
“Yeah, you’re stressing her out. You’re like a very expensive security system that never turns off,” she tells him
“I…,” he starts again.
“You follow her to the bathroom.” Lisa shakes her head at him
“Let her breathe,” Jisoo tells him gently.
“Do you want to go upstairs?” Yoongi asks after a moment.
You blink.
Because that’s new.
That’s very new.
“Yes.” You tilt your head.
“Okay.” He nods once.
“Oh my god, progress.” Lisa’s eyes widened.
“Don’t ruin it,” Jisoo mutters and Lisa immediately clamps her mouth shut.
You step forward carefully.
Yoongi stays close but not hovering.
Not grabbing.
Just… there.
You glance at him and he catches it.
“I’m trying,” he mutters.
“I know.” You smile a little.
Behind you, Lisa leans toward Jisoo.
“Give it ten minutes,” Lisa whispers
“You’re probably right.” Jisoo sighs.
And just like that the intervention was a partial success.
For now
The house feels different once you’re back on the main floor. The "Studio Surveillance" era has officially ended, but as you sink into the plush cushions of the couch. You watch as Yoongi has every intention of sitting right next to you. You hold out your hand, stopping him and point to the kitchen. He doesn't look thrilled, but you're surprised when he actually goes. He props the kitchen door open and stands, leaning against the island.
"Okay, first of all," Lisa announces, pulling out a bag of chips out of the pantry. "We need to dial the vibes back in here. It's great you let your prisoner out of your dungeon. However, you're staring."
"Yoongi," Jisoo says, her voice smooth, but pointed. "Step five feet away back from the island."
"I’m just standing here," he defends, though he begrudgingly takes a half-step back.
"You're looming," Lisa calls out from the cupboard. "You look like a gargoyle. Relax your shoulders."
Yoongi exhales a sharp, frustrated breath, but his shoulders drop an inch. He looks at you, his dark eyes searching yours for a sign of distress he’s convinced you’re hiding.
"I'm fine, Yoongi," you say softly, offering a small smile. "Really. The baby is fine. I am fine. We are all just... existing."
"See?" Lisa pops a chip into her mouth and points at you. "Existing. It’s a hobby. You should try it instead of anticipating disaster, which, by the way, is a terrible hobby. It's going to age you."
“We brought food that isn't just optimally hydrating or whatever Yoongi’s been forcing on you." Jisoo laughs. “We figured we could watch a movie too.”
"I bought organic kale juice once," Yoongi mutters under his breath.
"It was green sludge, Yoongi," you remind him.
The tension in the room finally starts to fade away. Lisa flops onto the sofa next to you. She's close enough to be supportive, but far enough to let you breathe as she starts scrolling through streaming options. Jisoo, sits on your other side forcing Yoongi to sit in the chair away from you.
We'll see how long this lasts.
For the next hour, it almost feels normal. There’s bickering over what to watch, Lisa making fun of Yoongi’s "protective dad" face, and Jisoo quietly ensuring you have a footrest without making a fuss about it.
But then, you shift.
It’s just a small adjustment to get comfortable. However, the room goes silent.
Yoongi’s hand is halfway to his water glass, frozen.
Lisa stops mid-sentence.
Jisoo’s eyes sharpen.
"I just... my leg fell asleep." You freeze, looking from one to the other.
Yoongi lets out a breath he’d been holding for a full ten seconds. Lisa throws a pillow at him.
"See! You've got us all doing it now! You’re infectious!" She snaps.
"It’s a reflex!" Yoongi snaps back, though there’s a flicker of a smile on his face now.
"It’s a symptom," Jisoo corrects gently. She looks at Yoongi, then at you. "But we’re here now. The perimeter is guarded. Yoongi, go make tea. Real tea. Not 'health' tea."
He lingers for a second, his gaze softening as it lands on you. He reaches out, almost touching your hair, then checks himself and pulls back, remembering the "no hovering" rule.
"Fine," he says, his voice dropping to that low, raspy tone that always settles your nerves. "Tea. But if she even looks like she’s going to sneeze, Jisoo, you’re calling me."
"Go!" Lisa shouts, waving him away.
As he disappears into the kitchen, you lean your head back and sigh.
"He's never going to fully stop, is he?" you whisper.
"Never. However, at least now we have a rotation. You’re not alone with the Gargoyle anymore." Lisa teases.
"I heard that!" Yoongi calls from the kitchen.
You can't help it. You laugh. It’s a little loud, a little tired, but entirely yours. For the first time in a week, you don't feel like a high-risk patient. You just feel like a woman in a house full of people who love her even if one of them is currently timing how long it takes for a kettle to boil so he can get back to his post.
By the time Lisa and Jisoo finally leave, the house feels different.
Quiet.
The kind of quiet that doesn’t feel tense anymore. Lisa had dragged the goodbye out. She needed three hugs, to give you two belly rubs and to threaten Yoongi once.
Jisoo had been simpler, but not without her own quiet commentary. She had paused at the door, glancing between you and Yoongi before sighing lightly.
“Please fix this soon,” she said calmly. “I cannot handle a hovering Yoongi and a still-panicking Seungkwan at the same time.”
“I’m not hovering.” Yoongi scoffs under his breath.
Jisoo just gives him a look.
Then turns back to you, softer now.
A small hug.
“Call me if anything feels off,” she whispered and then they were gone.
The door clicked shut.
Silence settles in.
You’re still on the couch, one leg tucked under the other, blanket loosely draped over your lap. The TV is still on, but muted now. Some movie playing you're not paying attention to.
For a moment, you don't move. Then you hear it. The soft sound of a mug being set down. You glance over. Yoongi is standing near the kitchen, watching you.
Not intensely.
Not scanning.
Just… looking.
You raise an eyebrow slightly.
“What?” You ask.
“Nothing.” He shakes his head once.
You don’t believe that for a second. However, he doesn’t move closer.
You notice it immediately. No crossing the room in three steps because you shifted your weight.
Just… space.
You study him for a second longer. Then relax back into the couch.
“It’s quiet,” you murmur.
“Mm.” He hums.
He picks up his mug again, takes a slow sip. Still watching you over the rim, but it’s different now.
Less sharp.
Less urgent.
You shift slightly, adjusting the blanket over your legs.
His eyes flick down tracking the movement and then he stops.
He doesn’t move.
Doesn’t speak.
Doesn’t ask.
You catch it. That tiny moment where instinct almost took over
and didn’t. Your lips twitch.
“Was that hard?” You ask.
“A little.” He exhales quietly through his nose.
“Gold star,” you tease.
That earns you the smallest hint of a smile. He walks over then.
The couch dips slightly as he settles beside you, close enough that your knees brush.
For a few seconds, neither of you speak. His hand lifts and he pauses. You feel it before it happens. That hesitation. Like he’s asking without asking. You glance at him.He doesn’t look at you.
“Can I?” He murmurs.
“Yeah.”You soften immediately.
His hand settles gently over your stomach. Warmth spreads under his palm. A quiet moment passes before a small kick presses against his hand.
Yoongi stills.
Completely.
You turn your head slightly, watching his face. That look again. The one that never gets old.
Awe.
Like he still can’t believe it’s real. His thumb shifts instinctively, brushing slow circles over the spot.
“Hey,” he murmurs quietly to the baby. “You’re behaving now.”
“That’s because you’re not yelling at him.” You huff out a small laugh.
“I don’t yell,” he says.
“You accused him of trying to escape last week,”you say.
“That was a valid concern.” He nods.
You smile, shaking your head. The baby shifts again under his hand.
No urgency.
No panic.
Just movement.
Just life.
Yoongi exhales slowly.
“I don't want to suffocate you,” he says after a moment.
“You didn’t, but you were close.” You glance at him.
“You don’t have to control everything,” you say.
“I know.” He nods his head. “I just can't forgive myself for the “what if” something bad would have happened.”
“It didn't happen and now we know to keep all phones charged and on.” You lean your head on his shoulder. “Don't beat yourself up over it.”
That makes him go still again. After a second, his fingers curl slightly against your stomach.
“I’ll try and work on it,” he murmurs.
“I know.” You smile.
Another small kick presses into his palm. Like agreement. Yoongi lets out a quiet breath, leaning back into the couch.
The TV flickers quietly in the background. Your head tips slightly toward his shoulder again. He doesn’t comment on it. He doesn’t adjust you. He just stays still so you can be comfortable.
Yoongi’s thumb traces one last slow circle over your stomach before he lets his hand rest instead of hovering.
You shift closer without thinking, your fingers lightly catching the fabric of his sleeve. You wrap your arm around him the best you can.
A small victory.
“You okay?” he murmurs with no panic in his tone.
“Yeah,” you whisper. “I am.”
He hums quietly, thumb brushing once more over your stomach before finally going still.
And this time he stays that way.
The backyard studio smells faintly like paint. It feels warm and comforting. The windows are cracked open just enough to let in the early afternoon air, sunlight stretching across the floor in long, warm lines. Your easel stands where it always has. A large canvas sits still blank for now but waiting. You hadn’t realized how much you missed this until you stepped back in.
“You look happier already,” your sister says.
You glance over. Your sister is leaning against the worktable, arms crossed, watching you.
“We've been in here for five minutes,” you point out.
“And you’ve smiled three times,” she replies. “That’s how I know.”
Before you can respond the door swings open.
“Okay, first of all. This is way cooler than I expected.” Mingyu's voice fills your space.
You turn just in time to see your brother-in-law step inside, ducking slightly out of habit even though the doorframe is more than tall enough. He looks around like he just walked into a gallery.
Or a playground.
“Is this where you’ve been hiding all your talent?” He continues, already walking further in. “You should’ve shown me this sooner.”
“Are you here to commission me or to play in my area?” You ask dryly.
“Both,” he says immediately.
“I like him.” Your sister snorts.
“Of course you do.” Mingyu grins, already setting his phone down and pulling out a few reference photos. “Okay, but seriously. I’ve been thinking about this a lot,” he says, shifting into something a little more focused. “I want something… detailed. Like … real city energy.”
You step closer, glancing at the photos. Night shots. Lights reflecting off wet streets.
“It’s for behind my desk,” he adds. “The main wall. I don’t want something generic. I want something that actually feels like… being there.”
“Do you want a specific city? Or do you want me to just….combine elements from different cities together?” You ask.
“Combine,” he says immediately. “But …like….real enough that you could almost recognize it.”
“That’s doable.” You hum softly, already picturing it.
“Yeah?” He perks up.
“Yeah.” You nod. You move toward the canvas, lightly tapping the edge with your fingers. “We can layer skylines, play with depth, reflections. We can make it a little more dramatic if you want.”
“Exactly. That. See? This is why I asked you.” Mingyu lights up.
From the side, your sister watches quietly as you and Mingyu stare at the blank canvas. Then, the studio door creaks open again.
All three of you glance over. Yoongi stands in the doorway. Holding… absolutely nothing.
“I was looking for,” he pauses, clearly improvising. “The… uh… extension cord.”
Silence.
“From her art studio?” Your sister raises an eyebrow.
“Yes.” Yoongi doesn’t even hesitate.
“Is he serious?” Mingyu slowly turns his head toward you and you press your lips together.
“He’s trying,” you whisper.
“Mm,” your sister hums. “Trying something.”
Yoongi steps inside, scanning the room like the extension cord might materialize if he commits hard enough. His eyes land on you. It's a quick check. Subtle. Less obvious than before, but not invisible.
“You okay?” He asks.
“I’m fine,” you reply, still looking at the canvas.
He nods once. Doesn’t move closer.
“Good,” he mutters. “Still need to find that cord.”
Your sister glances between him and you. No one says anything as Yoongi rummages around for a minute before he walks out of your studio.
“What was that?” Your sister asks.
“He hasn't left me alone since the hospital,” you say softly. “Lisa and Jisoo even had to give him an intervention.”
“That looked like respectful hovering,” Mingyu says.
“Don’t encourage him.” You shake your head.
“I’m impressed,” he counters. “He's doing what a good husband should do.”
You shake your head, smiling despite yourself.
“Okay,” you say, refocusing. “Back to your painting.”
“Walk me through exactly what you want to feel when you look at it,” you say, picking up a pencil.
He pauses. Actually thinking this time.
“Calm but lively,” he says after a second. “Like the city’s loud, but you’re not overwhelmed by it.”
“That’s contrast,” you murmur, sketching the first faint lines. “We can do that.”
The pencil moves. Light. Sure. Like you never stopped.
Mingyu glances toward the door again, then back at you.
“How many times do you think he’s going to come back in?” He asks.
“Give it five minutes.” You reply with the faintest of smirks.
Your hand doesn't stop moving. The pencil scratches softly against the canvas, a rhythmic that fills the room. Mingyu is leaning over your shoulder now, his tall frame casting a shadow that you have to maneuver around.
"Wait, right there," he says, pointing to a skeletal outline of a skyscraper. “Can we make it a rainy day?”
“We can do whatever you want,” you assure him.
“I want lights reflecting in the puddles on the street,” he says, as his eyes take in the light gray lines.
From the corner of the room, your sister clears her throat. You look up to see her staring at the door. You turn and watch as the door inches open. Two inches. Then three. A sliver of Yoongi’s face appears in the gap. He isn't looking for an extension cord anymore. He’s holding a small, white ceramic plate.
"Orange slices," he says.
Mingyu coughs to hide a laugh. Your sister just puts her face in her hands.
"Yoongi," you say, not putting the pencil down. "I ate not too long ago."
"Vitamin C," he counters, stepping fully into the studio. He places the plate on the edge of the worktable, carefully away from your paints. "Also, you’re standing. You’ve been standing for fifteen minutes."
"I am trying to draw something large, Yoongi. I need to stand," you tell him.
"There is a stool right there," he points out, his gaze flickering to the high-backed chair in the corner.
"I’ll sit when I’m at a stopping point." You promise.
Yoongi lingers. He looks at the canvas, then at Mingyu, then back at the orange slices. He looks like he wants to offer to hold the pencil for you so you can rest your arm, but even he knows that’s too far.
"The perspective is good," he mutters, nodding toward the sketch. "The vanishing point is... accurate."
"Thank you, Architect Min," you tease.
He huffs, a tiny puff of air that signals he knows he's being ridiculous. He turns to leave, but stops at the door.
"Mingyu." Yoongi says.
"Yeah?" Mingyu replies.
"Don't let her lean too far forward. Her center of gravity is off." Yoongi tells him.
"Uh, yeah. No leaning." Mingyu agrees, making Yoongi nod, satisfied and he finally closes the door.
"He’s terrified," your sister says, moving to steal an orange slice. The room goes quiet for a second, the only sound being the soft crunch of your sister biting into the orange slice. She chews slowly, her eyes drifting toward the closed studio door, then back to the plate Yoongi left behind.
“You know,” she says, her voice dropping into a tone that’s less teasing and more reflective. “It’s actually kind of jarring to see him like this.”
“Jarring?” You pause your pencil mid-stroke.
“Yeah.” She leans back against the table, turning the remaining orange slice over in her hand. “I mean when we dated. We were together through midterms and....everything.”
She gives a small, dry laugh that isn’t bitter … just honest.
“I don’t think he once asked me if I was hungry. I could have gone three days without sleep and a week on nothing but iced Americanos, and it was just... an afterthought to him. He didn't have the bandwidth to notice if someone else was leaning too far forward.”
Mingyu shifts his weight, looking a little awkward at the sudden dive into past relationship history, but you stay still, watching her.
“With you?” She gestures toward the door with the orange peel. “It’s like his entire world-view shifted. He’s not just in his zone anymore. You are the zone. Everything else is all secondary to making sure you’re breathing okay.”
She looks at you, a soft, sincere smile reaching her eyes.
“It’s a good look on him, though.” She nods
You look down at your stomach, where the baby has finally settled into a quiet nap. The "hovering" felt a lot less like a nuisance and a lot more like a profound, terrified devotion when put that way.
“Now you’re making me feel bad,” you murmur.
“He’s overachieving,” Mingyu chips in, trying to lighten the mood. “I think he’s trying to win a ‘Husband of the Year’ award that doesn't actually exist.”
“Oh, it exists,” your sister says, grabbing another slice. “And he’s currently the only contestant.”
“Okay, no more talking about the past or orange slices. Mingyu, tell me more about these reflections. Do you want them neon, or more muted?” You smile, turning back to the canvas.
“Neon,” Mingyu says instantly. “Let’s make it loud where the rest of the painting will be more dreary.”
Perfect.
As the afternoon light begins to fade, the studio feels warmer than it did an hour ago. You’re back in your element, your sister is content eating another orange slice, and Mingyu is inspired looking at more reference photos and somewhere in the main house, Yoongi is likely checking the clock, counting down the minutes until he can "incidentally" bring you a sweater.
You set your pencil down, leaning back in the chair for the first time in what feels like hours. The city sketch on the canvas catches the late afternoon light just right.
For a moment, everything is still. The soft hum of the air vent, the faint scrape of pencil against paper, the warm light spilling across the floor. It all feels like a bubble separate from the rest of the world. Safe and calm. Exactly as it should be.
You glance down at your stomach, fingers brushing lightly over the gentle rise and fall. A small kick responds, soft, insistent, perfectly timed. You smile, letting yourself settle into it, into this quiet, perfect little corner of life.
—who's gonna stop us from waltzing back into rekindled flames, if we know the steps anyway? we embroidered the memories of the time i was away, stitching, "we were just kids, babe".
꣑ৎ summary. Yoongi drifts through life on autopilot—sleep-deprived, disinterested in school, and chasing the adrenaline of underground rap battles. Known for his cold, monotone presence, he seems untouchable, until you—the epitome of perfection and grace, collides with him at the wrong place, at the wrong time.
As your young hearts grow fonder, Yoongi’s monotone world becomes vibrant—but one reckless decision shifts the trajectory of your lives forever.
Years later, fate forces both of you together once more—different lives, different times. A relapse of longing, desire, abandoned feelings, and words left unsaid.
Are you willing to risk everything the second time around like a vice rekindled?
꣑ৎ status. on-going
꣑ৎ word count. 22.4k and counting
꣑ৎ genre. classmates to friends to lovers, slowburn, angst, eventual smut
꣑ৎ warnings. lots of smoking, casual parties & drinking, smut— taking v!rginity, legal-age protected sex, receiving and giving oral, semi-public, dry humping, mention of pregnancy, might add some more as the story progress.
꣑ৎ part one — ꣑ৎ part two — ꣑ৎ part three
꣑ৎ author's note. hello!! she’s finally ready for her comeback 😭
if you didn’t know, this fic was first posted back in feb 2026 and was almost finished, BUT i took it down to proofread because omg the original version was written like shit 😭
i love this story way too much to leave it like that, so i ended up not just proofreading but actually rewriting and tweaking parts of the plot too. so if you’ve read the sweetest vice before, i highly recommend starting from the beginning again 👀 there are some changes here and there!
full part one (18k words) is posted!! yayyy 💌 while part two has no definite time yet but i'm planning to post updates daily.
thank you for waiting! 🫶
Summary: You were fine with your life after years of building walls to protect yourself. What happens when a basketball coach you never saw coming starts breaking them down?
Pairing: Basketball Coach Yoongi x F. Reader
Genre: Smut, Romance, Angst, Hurt-Comfort,
Warnings: Explicit Sex, Unprotected Sex, Drinking, Swearing, Past Domestic Violence, Drug reference.
The bake sale is busy.
The Bearcats vs The Panthers was bringing in quite a bit of money. Sarah was definitely on her way to breaking her bake sale record as you and some of the moms ran the goodie tables.
It was halftime and you thought you were in the clear. You thought for sure Yoongi wasn't going to make good on his threat to come with his team when suddenly the doors to the cafeteria open and in march a tidal wave of blue, white, and black jerseys.
The Ravens.
They were loud, sweaty, and apparently fresh off a game. They were hopping around with energy only young teenage athletes can possess.
At the front of the pack, looking infuriatingly handsome, was Yoongi. Decked out in his blue Ravens hoodie and black joggers. He looks around like he is supposed to be here, his gaze cutting through the crowd until it lands on you. He doesn't smile, but that familiar smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth before he turns to bark an order at his team to keep them from sprinting toward the tables.
He's already gone back on his word.
"Line up," he commands. "If I see anyone pushing, you're running suicides on Monday."
The boys immediately fall into a chaotic, loud line. “Remember your manners. Go, you have fifteen minutes.”
The boys head off in different directions with their parents trying to follow after their player. Yoongi moves, leaning against the edge of the table right in front of you.
"See?" He questions. "I told you we'd show up and I believe I promised you a hoodie for breaking that record, didn't I? Looks like I might be handing this one over sooner than I thought."
You cross your arms, trying to look unimpressed, but your heart is racing.
“You already broke your promise,” you mutter, eyes darting to the chaos of teenage athletes swarming your sister-in-law’s baked goods. “I told you not to smirk at me.”
He leans casually on the edge of the table, that infuriating smirk still tugging at his mouth.
“I think I heard you once say… rules are made to be broken,” he says.
You blink at him wanting to curse him for using your words against you.
“I did not say that!” You deny. “I think you're making shit up.”
“Didn’t you?” He asks, voice low, teasing, before straightening up. “Anyway…”
Without another word, he turns, weaving back through the crowd of Ravens like he was never there, leaving you blinking after him and your heart still halfway in your throat.
You take a deep breath, trying to regain your composure after Yoongi’s abrupt departure, when a sharp, artificial laugh cuts through the noise right beside you.
"Well, isn't this sweet and … nostalgic?" A woman you recognize as Yoongi's ‘friend’ says to you.
She stands there, dressed in expensive looking activewear and perfectly done hair. She's looking at you with a pleasant smile that doesn't quite reach her eyes while holding onto a coffee cup.
"I'm Ara, we've met before. It's good to see you without the grease stains," she says. "I saw Yoongi over here just a moment ago. He really is spectacular with the boys, isn't he? So dedicated to his program."
"I guess," you reply, hoping that she would go away. “We're you going to buy something?”
Ara laughs again, a high, breathy sound and waves off your question.
"It's so charming, honestly. It’s lovely that he takes the time to support… the less fortunate teams like yours. You know, The Bearcats aren't exactly the best of the best." She waves a hand vaguely toward the packed tables. "But I suppose it’s good for our boys to learn community service and charity. It's good for them to see they have it good on The Ravens. They don't have to slum…"
“That's enough, Ara,” a man says, cutting her off. “Either buy something or get lost.”
Ara smiles at the both of you and walks off. “I'm sorry about her. I swear not all of us are like her.”
“I guess it's a good thing I have a high tolerance for bullshit.” You whisper the last part.
“I’m Mark,” he introduces himself and you do the same. “Most of us have built up a tolerance for her, but it took years.”
“Damn, Coach Min and my brother want my nephew on your team next year,” you say. “My tolerance isn't that high.”
“Well next year might be interesting then.” He smiles. “I'll take four brownies, please.”
Shaking your head you bag up Mark’s brownies and take his money. He sends you a friendly salute before walking away.
“Everything okay over here,” Yoongi says, popping back over to your side.
“Yeah.” You look over at him. “Why wouldn't it be.”
“Just making sure Mark wasn't bothering you,” he says and you roll your eyes.
“He bought four brownies," you tell him. “He didn't bother me. In fact, he chased your little ex bed bunny away.”
“My what?” He laughs.
“It's not funny,” you say, not laughing with him. “I know we don't have labels, but I'm not going to stand around and let her talk down to me. Clearly, whatever happened between you isn't over.”
“Yes, it is,’ he says quickly.
“It isn't for her,” you tell him. “Look, I can't do messy anymore. Ara didn't just come over here to chat. She came over here to mark her territory with a coffee cup and a fake smile."
He starts to speak, but you hold up a hand, silencing him.
"I’m here to sell baked goods and to support my nephew. I'm not here to get dragged into some weird, passive-aggressive rivalry over a man. If being with you means dealing with her. Then, I'm out, Coach, because she's not going away and I'm not going to listen to how Nicky and his team are charity cases."
You drum your fingers on the table and look around the cafeteria trying to act normal. "Either fix the situation with her, or don't be surprised when I'm too busy to notice your next grand entrance," you tell him as you keep your eyes straight.
Yoongi actually looks stunned, the smirk was finally replaced by a look of genuine realization. He opens his mouth to respond, but you were already turning toward a group of hungry Ravens.
"Next! Who wants a giant cookie?" You ask with a big fake smile.
“Why didn't you save me one?” Nicky complains as he lies across your couch.
“You were too busy playing,” you tell him. “Besides, didn't you want your mom to make the most money she could?”
“Yeah,” he sighs. “It's not fair, though. Mom said those damn Ravens pretty much bought everything.”
“You're dad is trying his hardest to make you one of those damn Ravens,” you laugh.
“Do you think I'm good enough?” He asks you.
“I think you're better than them.” You wink. “Now, go take a shower because you smell.”
“Rude,” he complains again but gets off the couch and heads to your bathroom.
Laughing at him, you pick up his basketball bag and toss it by the door. Just as you were about to turn around, a knock on your door has you sighing. Groaning, you take a couple steps to the door and yank it open.
“Hi,” Yoongi says, standing in the hallway of your apartment building looking slightly less certain than he did in the cafeteria as he plays with the blue hoodie in his hands.
“I'm busy,” you say flatly.
“Oh.” He breathes out.
“Yeah.” You nod. “So, hurry it up.”
“I didn’t like how we left it earlier,” he admits and you lean against the doorframe instead of inviting him in. “I talked to her.”
You raise a brow.
“That was fast,” you say.
“She won’t approach you again,” he tells you and then looks up and down the hallway of your apartment building. “Can I come in?”
You hesitate just long enough for him to notice and then step aside to let him in.
“Is someone here?” He asks, as he closes the door behind taking in the sound of the shower running.
“Nicky,” you reply and he nods once and lets the quiet stretch between the two of you. “So, you talked to her.”
“Yes,” he answers
“And?” You ask, looking at him impatiently.
“And I told her she crossed a line,” he says
“What line did you tell her she crossed?” You question and he looks at you. “What line did you tell her she crossed? The weird relationship she seems to have with you or her calling all your other teams charity cases? Both?”
Yoongi shifts his weight, the confidence that usually radiates off him like heat replaced by a tense, restless energy. He looks down at the blue fabric bunched in his hands. It was the coveted hoodie he promised you.
“I handled it,” he says, his voice dropping into that low, gravelly register. “That’s what matters.”
“'I handled it.” You mock, letting out a dry, sharp laugh and move into your living room. “That could mean anything. It could mean you told her to fuck off or to please stop. So, which was it? Because Ara doesn't seem like the type to take polite requests.”
He lets out a slow breath, his jaw tightening just a fraction. He steps further into the room, closing the distance between you, but he doesn't give up the details.
“Look, I told her that her comments about the Bearcats were out of line. I told her that my business is my business. I made it clear where she stands,” he tells you.
“And where is that?” You push, crossing your arms. “Because from where I was standing. Behind a table of baked goods that my family busted their asses making. She looked at me like I was something she stepped in. It felt like she thought she held some sort of power over you.”
Yoongi’s gaze flickers, a shadow of frustration crossing his face, though it’s not directed at you. He rubs the back of his neck.
“She’s been around the program a long time. She’s... a fixture. I told her that the way she spoke to you was unacceptable. I don’t need to recount the whole script for you to know that I won't let it happen again.” He promises.
“You’re still being vague,” you point out, your voice steady despite the way your pulse jumps as he moves closer. “You’re avoiding the relationship part of the conversation. Did you tell her she has no claim on you, or did you just tell her to be a better sport?”
He stops right in front of you. The scent of his cologne suddenly fills your space. He holds out the hoodie, the soft material brushes against your folded arms.
“I told her what she needed to hear to stay away from you,” he says quietly. “I’m not interested in her drama, and I’m definitely not interested in her. I’m here, aren’t I?”
He tilts his head, a ghost of that infuriating smirk finally threatening to return. “Now, are you going to take the hoodie, or am I going to have to find another record breaker helper to give it to?”
You look at the blue fabric in his hands, then back up at his face. He’s wearing that Coach Min mask. The one that’s perfectly composed and frustratingly unreadable.
You reach out, your fingers brushing against his as you take the hoodie. The material is heavy and soft, and probably …. definitely smells like him.
"You’re being vague, Yoongi," you say, your voice dropping as you shake your head. "And you’re hiding something. I can feel it."
He doesn't flinch, but his eyes flicker a bit.
Guilt?
Stress?
"I told you I handled it. Isn't that enough?" He asks.
"For now? Maybe," you reply, clutching the hoodie to your chest, but making no move to put it on. "But honestly? I’m really glad we decided on no labels. Because right now, looking at you... I’m not entirely sure about you."
The smirk he was trying to summon dies instantly.
"You aren't sure?" He repeats, his voice a bit rougher than before.
"I'm not," you double down. "You’ve got secrets, and Ara has an ego that takes up the whole room. I like the hoodie, Yoongi. I like the way you look at me. However, I don't like the feeling that I'm only getting half the story."
You toss the hoodie onto the arm of the couch.
"Nicky’s going to be out in a minute," you say, effectively ending the private conversation. "And he's already grumpy about the Ravens buying everything."
Yoongi doesn’t move toward the door. Instead, he lets out a long, weary sigh and drops onto the end of your couch, looking every bit the exhausted coach who just spent a Saturday wrangling hyperactive teenagers.
"I'm staying," he says, his voice losing that defensive edge. "If I leave now, I'm just proving you right about the half of the story thing. Besides, I owe the kid for raiding his bake sale." He pulls his phone out, tapping the screen with his thumb. "Pizza?"
"Pizza is fine," you say, caught off guard by his sudden domestic charm.
You watch him for a second, the way he leans back. He looks human. Not like the untouchable Ravens coach or the guy dodging questions about a woman.
Just Yoongi.
The bathroom door creaks open, and Nicky walks out, a cloud of steam following him. He’s got a towel around his neck and a look of pure confusion when he sees who’s sitting in the living room.
"Coach?" Nicky blinks, wiping a stray drop of water from his ear. "Wait, did you come to scout me? Because I told you, I'm a Bearcat until the season ends."
Yoongi doesn't skip a beat. He looks Nicky up and down with a dry, professional gaze.
"I saw that video of your jump shot today? I’m here to make sure you don't embarrass my league, kid. Sit down. I'm ordering enough pepperoni. Anything else?" Yoongi teases.
Nicky’s face lights up, the grumpy act vanishing instantly. He flops onto the couch next to Yoongi, and within minutes, the two of them are deep in a debate about defensive rotations and why the Ravens' point guard is actually a ball-hog.
You stand against the stove, watching them. Yoongi looks at home, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he laughs at something Nicky says. For a moment, you almost forget the way Ara looked at you …. and the way Yoongi avoided the truth.
He catches your eye over Nicky’s head. There’s no smirk this time. Just a quiet look that says I’m trying.
And you just hoped that was enough.
The living room smells like greasy pepperoni as Yoongi uses stray napkins and breadsticks as players on a court, while Nicky watches with wide-eyed intensity.
"See, if you have to force the player into a corner," Yoongi explains, his voice low and instructive. “You can't let him breathe. If your team isn't surrounding him he'll break free.”
"But what if my teammates can't back me up," Nicky counters, leaning in.
"Then they are lazy," Yoongi deadpans. "Don't be lazy."
The front door swings open with a heavy thud against the stopper, followed by the sound of muffled laughter and the rustle of shopping bags.
"We’re back! We brought dessert since apparently the Ravens cleared out the entire cafeteria," Sarah calls out, her voice bright. She walks in first, still looking effortlessly put together after her date night with Nick, followed closely by your brother, who was juggling two white bakery boxes.
"Oh, hey, Yoongi. Didn't realize you were dropping by tonight," your brother says with a quick nod of his head.
"Yeah, I heard there was a future superstar here," Yoongi replies.
“He means me,” Nicky says, making his mom snort.
Sarah sits her purse down and gives you a knowing, playful look.
"Is he giving Nicky more pro tips? You’re going to turn my son into a defensive specialist before he even gets to eighth grade, Yoongi,” Sarah tells him.
"Someone has to," Yoongi jokes, finally leaning back.
"He bought us pizza!" Nicky announced, looking between his parents. "He says my jump shot is passable."
Nick chuckles, setting the boxes on the counter next to you. He bumps your shoulder playfully.
"You okay? You look like you’ve been holding your breath since I saw you after the game." He comments
"I'm fine," you lie, though you could feel Yoongi’s eyes on you from the couch. "Just a long day of community service."
Sarah's smile falters just a fraction, her intuition as a mother kicking in. She moves closer, lowering her voice so no one else would hear.
"I saw her, you know. Circling your table like a shark. Did she say something?" She asks, making you nod.
"Yoongi says he handled it," you whisper back.
Sarah glances over at Yoongi, then back at you.
"That can mean a lot of things,” she says cryptically and you give her a stink eye.
"Hey, Nick," Yoongi calls out, sensing the shift in the room's temperature. "You got a minute? I wanted to talk to you about an Elite Sports Clinic registration for the kid."
Nick drifts over to the couch, and soon the three of them are huddled over a phone screen. Sarah stays by your side, leaning against the counter.
"He's been coming over to our place twice a week now to help Nicky with his footwork," Sarah whispers. "Nick loves it, obviously. I think Yoongi does it just to have an excuse to get on Nick's good side when it comes to you."
You looked at the blue hoodie still sitting on the arm of the couch.
"I didn't know that. He's complicated, Sarah. This Ara, bitch... she makes it feel like I'm entering a game I didn't sign up for." You admit.
"Then change the rules," Sarah says simply, opening one of the bakery boxes to reveal a set of cupcakes. "He clearly likes being part of this family. You two might want to rethink this whole … no label thing."
Across the room, Yoongi laughs at something Nick says. It's a genuine, deep sound that makes your heart do that annoying little flip again. He catches your gaze, and for a split second. He looks like he wants to say more, but with your brother and nephew flanking him, he was stuck.
"Alright, Nicky, pack it up," Nick says, clapping his hands. "It's late."
Yoongi stands up, stretching his back. He looks at the door, then at you, then at the cupcake box. The room is full, the tension is simmering under the surface of a normal family night, and Yoongi is waiting for a signal from you on whether he should stay or go.
There was the usual shuffle at the door. Sarah thanking you again for helping, your brother giving Yoongi a nod and Nicky promising he’ll destroy the Ravens next before time the door clicks shut.
The pizza boxes sit half-open on the coffee table. The hoodie is still folded over the arm of the couch like it’s waiting for you to pick it up or throw it back at him. Yoongi stands near the window for a moment, hands in his pockets, staring out at the dim parking lot.
He looks like he’s rehearsing something silently in his mind.
You cross your arms, leaning against the stove again.
“Okay.” He exhales once, sharp through his nose, and turns to face you. “I didn’t lie. I was with Ara. Two years ago. It lasted two weeks. That’s it.”
You take in the information without reacting.
“She was … and still is … married,” he continues, voice flattening like he’s forcing himself to say it clean. “Her husband found out. It was messy. Embarrassing. I regret it.”
There’s no defensiveness in his tone. Just something tired. Something honest.
“You regret being with her… or you regret getting caught?” You ask, studying him carefully, making his eyes lift to yours immediately.
“Both,” he admits. “I shouldn’t have touched that situation at all. My girlfriend had just dumped me and I made a stupid decision.”
You nod slowly, pushing off the stove and walk closer … but not too close.
“You know most of my past,” you say gently. “The messy parts. The things I’m not proud of.”
“I know,” he says.
“After the things I've done. It's not my place to judge you,” you say, causing his shoulders to soften a fraction. “But,” you continue. “I still get this feeling that you’re holding something back.”
There it is.
His expression barely shifts, but you see it.
“I told you what happened,” he says carefully.
“I know.” You search his face. “And maybe that’s all it is. Maybe I’m just jumpy because of how she walked up to me today like she had ownership papers in her purse.”
A faint huff of breath escapes him. Not quite a laugh.
“She doesn’t own me,” he says.
“Then don’t let her act like she does.” You state.
His gaze locks onto yours. There’s tension there. It's not anger. Not guilt exactly. Just the weight of something.
“Nothing is going on with her,” he says gently.
You step closer now, just within reach.
“I don’t need perfect,” you tell him softly. “I just need you to be honest. If something from your past can still affect the present, I’d rather know.”
He looks at you like he wants to say more. Like there’s a sentence sitting on his tongue, but it never comes. Instead, he nods once.
“I hear you,” he says
You search his face one more time, then let out a quiet breath.
“I don’t like her,” you admit. “She's lucky I wasn't willing to ruin my sister's bake sale. Normally I wouldn't have been so nice. I’m willing to move forward. However, if I start feeling like I’m competing with a ghost or a very alive woman with expensive leggings. I’m walking.”
“You won’t be,” he says, a little too quickly. Then softer. “You won’t.”
You reach for the hoodie still sitting on the arm of the couch and finally pull it over your head. It swallows you slightly, the sleeves too long. It smells like laundry detergent and something unmistakably him.
Yoongi watches you, something easing in his posture.
“This doesn’t mean you’re off probation,” you warn and hit him with the extra fabric of the sleeves.
“I wouldn’t expect to be,” he answers honestly.
You step into his space and let him wrap his arms around you.
“We move forward,” you say quietly.
“We move forward.” He nods again.
You still don't like this. You don't know if this is the hurt part of you that has seen this movie before or if this is a real gut instinct. However, right now you're willing to do this with him. You're willing to try.
And for tonight, that feels like enough.
The neon sign for Maverick’s was flickering violently, casting a jagged red glow over the puddles in the parking lot from the passing storm. Inside, the storm felt like it was just brewing.
It was a "full moon" kind of shift.
You were currently knee-deep in a disaster behind the bar. The primary keg had blown a seal, and you were hunched over, drenched to the elbows in lukewarm foam trying to turn off the Co2 line.
"Jax! Grab the bucket!" You yell over a burst of laughter from a nearby booth.
"I’m a little busy!" Jax shouts back, currently occupied with two bikers who were arguing over a game of pool that was seconds away from becoming a brawl.
Maya was slammed at the other end, sliding drinks down the rail like a machine. She glances at you, sees the beer spraying your shirt, and winces.
"Do we even have enough towels for that mess?” She asks. “I don't think we have enough towels.”
The heavy oak front doors swing open, letting in a gust of cool night air that slice through the humidity of the crowded bar. You don't look up. You are too busy trying to keep the beer from spraying all over the ceiling as you finally grab the lever for the tank.
Until a shadow falls over the bar.
"Hey, sweetheart," a gravelly voice drawls. A hand reaches across the sticky wood, grabbing your wrist as you try to stand up from the keg. It was a regular named Hatchet, a man who had clearly overstayed his welcome. "Forget the beer. Why don't you come out from behind there and show me that smile? I've been waiting twenty minutes for a refill."
"Let go, Hatchet," you say, your voice tight and dangerous. "I'm working and you were cut off a long time ago."
"I don't think I am," he sneers, his grip tightening, pulling you uncomfortably close to the edge of the bar.
Before you could reach for the heavy flashlight you kept under the register, a hand. Firm, steady, and noticeably larger clamps onto Hatchet’s forearm.
"She said let go."
You look up, blinking back a stray drop of beer foam.
It was Yoongi.
He looks wildly out of place in his clean white sweatshirt and pants, yet he looks more dangerous than anyone in the room. He doesn’t look scared. He looks bored, like he was deciding whether Hatchet was worth the effort.
"Who the hell are you, pretty boy?" Hatchet growls, trying to shake him off.
Yoongi doesn't budge. He steps closer to the bar, his gaze dropping to Hatchet's hand on your wrist.
"It looks like Girly-Girl has a boyfriend,” Joe smirks. “I would let go if I were you, Hatchet.”
Hatchet looks at Yoongi. His eyes were cold, dark, and utterly unimpressed and slowly he uncurls his fingers. He mutters something under his breath and stumbles back toward the pool tables.
Yoongi doesn't even watch him go. His eyes were instantly on you, scanning the wet beer stains on your shirt and the way you were breathing.
"You okay?" He asks.
"What are you …" You start, but he cuts you off.
"Nick called," he interrupts, his voice softening just a fraction. "Said he was supposed to pick you up, but Nicky and Sarah are sick."
Maya appears at your shoulder, looking Yoongi up and down. She doesn't say a word to him. She just gives you a little shove.
"Your lost puppy came to collect you." She smirks. “Time to go.”
"But.." You try
"Go," Jax echos coming back around the bar top. "We've got it. Get out of here before Hatchet finds his courage again."
You don't argue this time. You grab your bag from the back, wipe your hands on a dry towel before walking out of the bar.
The silence of the parking lot was jarring after the chaos of Maverick’s. The cool air hits your beer-soaked clothes, making you shiver. Yoongi was a step behind you, his presence made you nervous tonight. He reaches out, his hand hovering near the small of your back as he guides you toward his SUV.
"I’m sorry," you mutter as he unlocked the doors. "You shouldn't have seen that."
"You should have called me," Yoongi says, opening the passenger door for you. He pauses, his eyes lingering on the red marks on your wrist where Hatchet had grabbed you. His jaw tightens, a muscle jumping in his cheek. "I don't like that place."
"It's just work, Yoongi." You argue.
"It's messy," he counters, climbing into the driver's seat. He doesn't start the car immediately. He reaches into the back and grabs a spare sweatshirt. It's one a grey Ravens one and places it into your lap. "Put that on. You’re freezing and you smell like that place"
Sighing, you whip your shirt over your head causing Yoongi to look around the parking lot and try to block you from view. You put his sweatshirt on and take in the way he was looking at you.
“What?” You ask.
His mouth actually parts. Not in a teasing way. Just like he was stunned.
“You..” He glances toward the windshield, then the side mirrors, then the flickering neon of Maverick’s reflecting off his SUV windows. “We are in a parking lot.”
“It’s dark.” You continue to tug the material down.
“There’s a neon sign behind us,” he says flatly. “And three drunk idiots smoking by the dumpsters.”
You slowly turn your head to look over your shoulder. Three bikers are absolutely arguing about something near a pickup truck.
“Oh,” you say with a shrug.
He exhales sharply through his nose, dragging a hand down his face.
“You couldn’t just put that over your clothes?” He asks.
“I smelled like beer.” You shrug again.
“You still do,” he mutters, but there’s no bite in it.
You settle back into the seat, adjusting the hem of the sweatshirt over your hips. It swallows you a little.
“You can’t just do that,” he says, voice lower now.
“Do what?” You ask, sounding a little tired now.
“Take your shirt off. In my car. In public.” His grip tightens on the steering wheel. “With me sitting right here.”
“You’ve seen me in less.” You squint at him.
“That’s not the point.” He says.
“Then what is the point?” You question.
He looks at you then and there’s something almost incredulous in his expression.
“The point,” he says slowly. “Is that I walked in there ready to break someone’s hand for grabbing you. I’m still two seconds from going back inside to finish that thought. My adrenaline is through the roof. Then you casually strip in my passenger seat like we’re in your bathroom.”
You stare at him.
“You’re being dramatic.” You laugh.
“I am not.” He argues
“You absolutely are. It's dark. Your windows are tinted,” you say. “No one saw anything.”
He lets out a short, humorless laugh and finally starts the engine. The SUV hums to life, headlights cutting across the wet pavement.
“You scare me,” he mutters under his breath.
That makes you look at him. Really look at him. The tension in his shoulders hasn’t gone away. His knuckles are still pale against the steering wheel. He’s not upset about the shirt.
He’s still thinking about Hatchet.
“You were going to hurt him,” you say quietly.
He doesn’t deny it.
“He touched you,” Yoongi answers simply.
“It happens sometimes,” you admit. “It’s part of the job.”
“It shouldn’t be.” His fingers tap against the steering wheel.
There’s no raised voice. No theatrics. Just a hard, steady truth. You reach over slowly and touch his leg. The contact makes him glance at you again.
“I’m okay,” you say. “I know how to deal with situations like that.”
“You shouldn’t have to deal with that alone,” he says.
“I didn’t,” you remind him softly. “You were there.”
A beat of silence passes between you.
“You still can’t just strip in my car,” he mutters.
You burst out laughing.
The SUV stops at a yellow light, the wipers dragging lazily across the windshield even though the rain has pretty much stopped.
“You still should’ve called me,” he says again.
“Nick called you,” you tell him.
“You should’ve called me,” he repeats. “Not Nick. Not Chris. Me.”
You shift in your seat, tugging the sleeves of his sweatshirt over your hands.
“It was just a ride home.” You try to downplay the situation.
“It wasn’t,” he says flatly. “You needed something.”
“I didn’t think …” you start.
“That’s the problem.” His tone sharpens, then softens almost immediately. “You don’t think to call me.”
You stare out the window at passing headlights.
“I’m not used to counting on men like that,” you admit.
The words slip out before you can dress them up. The car goes very, very quiet. Yoongi doesn’t respond right away.
“What does that mean?” He asks carefully.
“It means I’ve always handled my own rides. My own problems. My own messes.” You say.
If he can be vague, so can you.
“Elaborate,” he says
You swallow.
“Normally,” you say slowly, choosing each word like it might explode. “If I called anyone other than family. It would’ve turned into a fight. I would’ve gotten yelled at for being an inconvenience.”
The air in the car shifts. Yoongi’s hands tighten around the steering wheel. Not in frustration this time.
In restraint.
“Yelled at?” He repeats, quieter now.
You instantly regret saying it.
“It’s not a big deal,” you brush off. “It was a long time ago.”
“Who yelled at you?” He asks but you shake your head.
“Drop it.” You demand.
His eyes flick to you, sharp and assessing.
“You think I’d yell at you for needing a ride?” He asks.
“I don’t know,” you answer honestly. “That’s kind of my point.”
“I’m not … whoever that was,” he says.
You don’t correct him. However, that pause…just a fraction too long tells him enough.
“You don’t have to tell me,” he says after a moment. “But don’t project someone else’s mistakes onto me.”
“I’m not.” You argue
“You kind of are.” He argues back.
“I just… don’t assume someone’s going to show up,” you say. “My brothers show up. My dad shows up. My …. mom shows up, but guys … they don't show up.”
He nods once.
“Well,” he says quietly. “Assume it with me.” Your throat tightens unexpectedly. “If you need a ride, you call me. If someone puts their hands on you, you call me. If it’s two in the morning and your car won’t start, you call me.” His voice lowers, steady and firm. “That’s what I’m there for. I'm here for you.”
The simplicity of his answer makes your eyes water a bit. You laugh a bit to deflect.
“You’re very bossy tonight.” You joke.
“I’m very aware tonight,” he corrects. “I’m not going to yell at you for needing help,” he adds, softer now. “I might yell at whoever made you think that was normal.”
Your fingers curl slightly into the sleeve covering your hand.
“You don’t have to do everything alone anymore,” he says.
“I’m still learning that,” you admit.
“That’s fine,” he replies, reaching over to take your hand. “I’m patient.”
You squeeze his hand once before pulling back, staring forward again as the car turns onto your street. He doesn’t ask more questions. However, there is a look in his eyes now.
It’s different.
Softer.
Protective.
And just a little haunted by the fact that someone once made you believe asking for help came with consequences.
“You're five minutes late,” your mother says, placing something on the table.
“It's family dinner not the military,” you sigh, as you close the front door.
You kick off your shoes behind Chris and Elly, slowly entering further into the house as they take their normal seats. You wish Nick and his family still weren't sick. It was too quiet without everyone. It was going to give your mom time to focus her attention on you.
“Sorry,” your little brother apologizes. “I had to pick up Sunshine.”
“Why?” Your dad asks. “Where's your car?”
“Dead in my parking lot,” you say, settling down at the table.
“What's wrong with it now?” You mom sighs bringing the roast out.
“Don't know.” You shrug. “I can't afford to get it looked at right now. All I know is it won't start.”
“How have you been getting to work?” Your dad asks and Chris raises his hand.
“How have you been getting home?” You mom asks, sitting down.
You look at Elly and she gives you a tight smile.
“Yoongi,” you mumble.
“Yoongi,” your mom repeats, staring at you.
“Coach Min,” your dad clarifies, making you nod. “He picks you up even at two am?”
“He's only done it twice,” you say, grabbing the bowl holding the mashed potatoes.
“I guess we didn't realize that it was that serious between the two of you for him to be picking you up at two in the morning from that place,” your mother says.
“It's not,” you shake your head.
"Sunshine," your father starts, clearing his throat. "That car of yours is a death trap, and we aren't having you stranded at Maverick’s or relying on everyone else just to get to a shift. We want to help you get something reliable. I'm willing to buy something reliable for you that you can pay us back for. No down-payment, no interest."
You freeze.
"Wait, really?" You look between your parents not believing them.
"There is one condition," your mother interjects, leaning forward.
"I knew it," you groan. "What is it?"
"I want to meet him again," she says firmly and you roll your eyes. "A real, sit-down dinner. Not in a crowded pizza shop after a game."
"Mom, no," you plead, shaking your head. "The last time you treated him like he was applying for a high-security clearance pass."
"We were... thorough," your mom concedes with a shrug. "But we promise, we won't embarrass you again. It'll be different this time. No bringing up his health insurance, no asking about his retirement plan." She pauses, holding up a hand. "Not a single mention of your ex-boyfriends. Not even the one with the face tattoo."
"I'll keep her on her best behavior," your dad adds. "I want to meet this man without all the sports mumbo jumbo."
You look at Elly, who is trying to hide her smirk behind a napkin. Chris is just nodding along, clearly enjoying your internal crisis.
"He's going to think I'm setting him up," you mutter. "We don't even have labels, and you're demanding a second round of the Family Inquisition."
"If he's as serious about you as he acts, he can handle a roast chicken and some polite conversation," your mom says dismissively. "So? Do you want a car that actually starts, or do you want to keep holding your breath every time you turn the key?"
You let out a long, dramatic sigh, slumping in your chair. The thought of a car with working heat and a functioning starter. One that doesn't require a rescue mission is too tempting to pass up.
"Fine," you mutter. "I'll ask him. However, if any of you mention a 401k, I’m taking the car and never coming back again."
The neon sign for Maverick’s buzzes with its usual erratic rhythm, as you push through the heavy oak doors. You breathe a small sigh of relief when you see the black SUV idling near the edge of the lot.
Yoongi was there. Just like he said he would be.
You climb into the passenger seat, the warmth of the heater immediately hitting your face. Yoongi doesn't pull away immediately, keeping the car in park. His eyes scan your face, looking for any sign of a bad shift.
"Rough one?" He asks, his voice low.
"It was fine," you murmur, pulling your bag onto your lap.
You remain silent as he pulls out of the lot. You watch the streetlights blur past, the silence stretching until it becomes noticeable. Yoongi glances at you at a red light, his brow furrowing.
"You're being too quiet. Did something happen?" He asks.
"My parents want to buy me a car," you say abruptly.
"That’s a good thing, right?" He asks.
"Yeah," you sigh, leaning your head against the cool glass of the window. "But there’s a catch. Because of course there's a catch. A big, terrifying, roast-chicken-shaped catch."
He let out a short, amused huff.
"Let me guess?" He smirks. “They want your first born child.”
"Worse. A dinner," you groan, finally looking at him. “With you. A real meeting. No health insurance questions … supposedly… but they want to see the man who’s been picking me up at two in the morning. She said if I don't bring you. I don't get the car."
You waited for the panic. You waited for him to make an excuse. Instead, Yoongi just continues to drive as the light turns green, a small, knowing smirk playing on his lips.
"So, my presence is the down payment?" He teases.
"I'm serious, Yoongi. You don't have to do it. I'll find another way to get a car." You tell him.
Yoongi reaches over, his hand finding yours on your lap and squeezes it gently.
"I can handle a roast chicken," he says. "Tell your mom I'll be there. I’m not letting you lose a car."
He looks at you then, the smirk fading into something more sincere.
"Besides, I told you to start assuming I'll show up. This is me showing up," he tells you.
"You're going to regret this," you warn him.
"I'll survive," Yoongi replies, pulling onto your street.
The walk up to your parents' front door felt like a march toward a firing squad. Beside you, Yoongi looked disgustingly calm. He was dressed in a dark sweater and slacks. The polished professional version of Yoongi that always made you a little breathless came here tonight.
In one hand, he held a bouquet of lilies and carnations that looked far too expensive for a casual dinner. In the other, a heavy paper bag with the distinct clink of a high-end bottle of some adult beverage.
"You are such a suck-up," you mutter, nodding toward the gifts.
Yoongi doesn't even look at you, his eyes fixed on the door.
"It’s called strategy. You don't go into a championship game without scouting the opponent and bringing the right equipment," he smiles at shooting you a look out of the corner of his eye.
"My mother isn't an opponent, Yoongi. She’s a predator," you warn, reaching for the handle.
Before you could even turn the knob, the door swings open. Your mother stands there, apron on, eyes instantly darting from you to the man at your side.
"Yoongi! You’re early," she beams.
"Mrs. L/N, thank you for having me," Yoongi says, his voice smooth as silk. He hands her the flowers. "For the hostess and I hope your husband enjoys a good scotch?"
He offers the bag to your father, who appears behind her. Your dad takes the bag, peeking inside. His eyebrows shot up in surprise approval.
"Lagavulin? You’ve been doing your homework, Coach," your dad says, as he continues to nod in approval.
"I told you," you whisper to Yoongi as you step inside. "Suck. Up."
He just winks at you. A quick, dangerous flash of personality before the perfect guest mask slips back on.
“You're getting that car, Doll,” he whispers back.
The dining room was packed.
Your dad and Yoongi are occupied at one end of the table, already deep in a conversation about the basketball program. You're pretty sure your dad was still starstruck that someone ‘so young’ could run such a great program.
Nick and Sarah sit across from you, looking much better after their bout with the flu. Sarah was sending you constant "he's a keeper" looks over her wine glass. While Nick seemed unimpressed by the looks his wife was shooting.
Nicky, who forced you out of your seat, couldn't sit still in his seat next to Yoongi. Your nephew kept trying to show him a play he’d drawn on a paper napkin. You smirk as you watch Yoongi struggle trying to figure out where he should focus attention.
Chris and Elly were at the other end by you. They both watched silently as if waiting for some hilarious drama to unfold.
"So," your mother starts, setting the roast chicken down with a thud that feels like a gavel. "Yoongi. My daughter tells us you’ve been her personal driver lately. At all hours of the night."
The table goes quiet. Chris leans like this is what he was waiting for. Yoongi doesn't flinch. He sits his fork down and looks your mother right in the eye.
"I'd rather be her driver at 2:00 AM than have her waiting for a ride in a parking lot alone. It’s not a chore. It’s a priority." He tells her. “I don't like that place.”
You felt a flush creep up your neck and you turn your head in time to catch Elly mouth the word ‘Damn’ at you.
"A priority," your dad repeats, swirling his scotch. "That’s a strong word for someone who says they don’t use labels."
"Dad!" You choke slightly on your water.
"It's a fair question, sir," Yoongi says, completely unfazed. He glances at you, his expression softening just enough for the family to see it, but not enough to lose his composure. "Labels are for people who need to prove something to the outside world. I think my actions speak louder than a title. But," he adds, looking back at your father. "If you're asking if I'm committed to her safety and happiness? The answer is yes."
No one says anything for a moment.
"Well," your mother says, finally breaking the tension by scooping a massive pile of potatoes onto Yoongi’s plate. "At least you have good taste in flowers and we both agree we hate that nasty place. Eat. You’re too thin for a man who runs around a court all day."
Your siblings and their partner try to cover their laughs as Yoongi's eyes go wide. Your mom placed way too many potatoes on his plate. You shake your head and look at the ceiling.
At least she didn't want to see his bank statements.
"Coach," Nicky pipes up, his voice cracking slightly with 13-year-old urgency. "The Ravens do full-court press, right? Dad says we aren't ready for that yet, but if I could just learn the footwork...are there any local clinics I can take?"
Nick looks up from his plate, his expression a mix of fatherly pride and "oh boy, here we go."
"Nicky," Nick says, though his eyes are curious. “Let him eat.”
Yoongi shifts, leaning toward Nicky with that focused intensity he usually saves for the sidelines.
"The Ravens clinics are private because they are sponsored for our team," Yoongi explains. He pauses, tapping his chin. "But … I don't see why we can't figure something out. Something for the whole league, not just my boys."
"A bridge program?" Chris chimes in, looking intrigued. As the younger brother who still remembers the grind of high school sports, he’s always down for a "for the love of the game" project. "You could use the old rec center on 4th. It’s got three courts. I know the owner, we can reserve it for a Sunday."
"Good idea," Yoongi nods, his professional gears turning. "The problem is staffing. Jungkook and I can't be everywhere at once. I would need volunteers."
"I’d help," Chris offers immediately. "I can run drills."
"Of course I'll help,” Sarah smiles at her son.
“I'll run refreshments,” Elly chirps.
“And Forge and Frame will help sponsor,” Nick says. “Mom?”
“My real estate business will write a check,” she says.
“Sunshine?” Nicky looks at you.
“What?” You blink at the teen and everyone looks at you.
“Don't you love me?” Nicky asks.
“Yeah, you're not pulling that on me,” you say, shoving food in your mouth.
Yoongi chuckles and looks at Nicky.
"You want a clinic? If your dad and your uncle here help me pull this together, you’ll be the first one on the list. Fair warning, I don't go easy on people I know," he says. “In fact, I expect more.”
Nicky’s grin is so wide it looks painful.
"I can handle it!" Nicky promises.
Your father watches the exchange, a slow, satisfied nod directed at Yoongi. He hasn't officially handed over the keys to a new car yet, but the way he’s looking at Yoongi speaks volumes.
"Well," your dad says, raising his glass of Lagavulin. "Sounds like a lot of work. You’ll need some good fuel. Is there any more of that chicken?"
"Of course there is," your mom chirps, already heading for the kitchen.
Yoongi catches your eye across the table. He looks a little overwhelmed by the sudden L/N family "group project" he’s been recruited into, but he doesn't look like he wants to run for the door.
In fact, he looks... settled.
The morning air was crisp and smelled like potential as you stood in your parking lot, admiring your new car. It wasn't a luxury SUV like Yoongi’s, but it was yours. It was reliable, clean, and currently being overly inspected.
Yoongi was dressed in a casual black tracksuit, his hair messy from sleep, looking like a man who just wanted his Sunday off.
"I checked the tire pressure," he says. "And I filled your wiper fluid. You were low. Someone should have checked that before you drove that off that lot."
"You're a menace," you laugh, leaning against the side of the car. "I’ve had this thing for three days and you’ve already performed a full inspection."
"I told you," he said, finally straightening up and flashing that smirk that always made your stomach flip. "I'm invested in the cargo and I’m the cargo that you need to get back safely tonight."
You swat him as a loud honk interrupts you. Nick’s truck pulls up to you, Sarah in the passenger seat and Nicky practically bouncing in the back. Nick rolls down the window, grinning at the sight of Yoongi hovering over your new engine.
"You giving her a safety lecture, Yoongi?" Nick calls out.
"It's my job," Yoongi jokes back, wiping his hands on a rag. "You ready to lead the convoy, Nick? Or am I going to have to pass you on the highway?"
"In that? Good luck," Nick laughs. "We'll lead you guys. Sarah’s got the GPS set for the Elite Skills Complex. It’s about a three-hour haul."
Nicky scrambles out of his dad's truck, dragging his dufflebag with him.
"Can I ride with them? Please? Coach said we would go over some things!" Nicky asks his parents.
Sarah looks at you, a playful sparkle in her eyes.
"If you can handle a thirteen-year-old’s sports commentary for three hours, he’s all yours." She says.
"Get in, kid," Yoongi says, ruffling Nicky’s hair as he opens the back door.
The drive was arguably the most domestic three hours of your life. With the back of your brother’s truck visible at all times, the interior of your new car felt amazing.
Nicky was leaning forward between the front seats, hanging on Yoongi’s every word.
"But Coach," Nicky argues. "If I'm smaller than the point guard, shouldn't I just focus on the perimeter?"
"No," Yoongi explains, his voice patient. "The second they think they know your game, you’re predictable. If you can face a guy twice your size because your footwork is cleaner, you own the court. Right, Sunshine?"
He glances at you, his hand resting on the center console, inches from yours.
"Don't look at me," you tease. "I'm just the driver. I just work here."
"You're the MVP of this car," Yoongi counters softly, his fingers finally reaching out to brush against your wrist.
The contact was brief, but it sent a surge of warmth through you that had nothing to do with the car's heater
“Dad said all the other players there will be older,” Nicky says, quietly. “I've never played with older boys before.”
“They will be a little bit older,” Yoongi agrees. “But that doesn't mean they have the skill. Remember what I taught you. Stay light on your feet. Keep your eyes on the players and not the ball.”
“Right,” Nicky whispers.
“I wouldn't have signed you up for this if I didn't think you could do this,” Yoongi promises.
Nicky nods, but he’s quiet again. Not defeated but just thinking as he starts to gnaw on his thumb nail. Yoongi turns slightly in his seat and looks at him. He doesn't say anything for a moment and studies him.
“You know what nobody tells you?” He says casually. “The older guys? They’re going to try to test you for the first five minutes. They’ll bump you. Talk a little. Try to see if you flinch. They are going to try and get into your head so they can intimidate you.”
Nicky’s fingers drop and tighten on the strap of his duffle.
“And?” he asks.
“And,” Yoongi shrugs. “You don’t flinch. You stay light. You keep your shoulders loose. You make the smart play. You don’t need to be the loudest one in the gym to compete with them. That will intimidate them more than anything.”
Nicky studies him like he’s memorizing every word. You glance at Yoongi. His jaw is relaxed, one hand steady on the dashboard, the other hovering near yours again like he doesn’t even realize he does it.
“The first time I walked into a skills camp,” Yoongi says after a second. “I thought I was going to get swallowed whole. Everyone looked bigger. Faster. Louder.”
“You were?” Nicky asks.
“For about thirty seconds,” Yoongi admits. “Then I realized most of them were just as nervous as I was. They just hid it worse.”
Nicky lets out a small breath. Not quite a laugh. But close.
The highway sign for the exit comes into view.
You take it, heart beating a little faster and it’s ridiculous because you’re not the one playing.
“You nervous, buddy?” You ask lightly.
Nicky hesitates.
“A little,” he admits.
“That’s good,” Yoongi says immediately. “Means you care and you use it.”
The complex comes into view. It's a wide, modern building with huge glass panels reflecting the late morning sun. Cars already crowd the parking lot. You can see kids in warm-ups through the windows, orange basketballs bouncing in rhythmic echoes that carry even this far.
Nick’s truck pulls into a row near the entrance, brake lights flashing.
You follow.
The engine turns off. The silence inside the car feels bigger than the drive did.
For a moment, none of you move. Then Nicky exhales sharply and pushes the door open.
Game face.
You and Yoongi step out at the same time. The air is charged. Nerves coming off of everyone from everywhere. Nick and Sarah meet you near the front of the car. Sarah squeezes Nicky’s shoulder.
“You’ve got this, baby,” she tells him softly.
Nick bumps fists with him.
“Play your game,” he says. “Just play your game.”
But it’s Yoongi who Nicky looks at the most seriously.
Not his dad.
Yoongi crouches down slightly so they’re eye level.
“First five minutes,” Yoongi reminds him.
“Don’t flinch,” Nicky repeats.
“Eyes up.” Yoongi states.
“Shoulders loose,” Nicky says
“And?” Yoongi asks
“Make the smart play.” Nicky recalls and stands up straight.
“That’s my guy.” Yoongi smiles, small, proud.
The words slip out naturally. No hesitation. You see it hit Nicky. The way his chest lifts just a little.
“Coach,” he says, grinning now. Yoongi stands, brushing his hands on his tracksuit like he’s shaking off nerves that aren’t even his. “Let’s go.”
The doors to the Elite Skills Complex slide open with a mechanical hum. It’s loud as soon as you step foot inside. The whistles, sneakers squeaking, balls pounding against hardwood, parents talking too loudly from the bleachers.
Energy. Pressure. Possibility.
It was kind of overwhelming and that was just you. You couldn't imagine what Nicky was feeling at the moment. You fall into step beside Yoongi as Nicky walks a half step ahead, duffle slung over his shoulder. Nick takes Nicky over to get checked in while you, Sarah and Yoongi grab a spot on the bleachers that sat tucked behind a wall of glass.
You can see the way Yoongi's eyes trail after them as you sit down but he remains standing slightly swaying around.
“You’re pacing,” you murmur.
“I’m not,” Yoongi replies immediately.
“You are.” You laugh lightly and he glances at you.
“Okay. Maybe a little.” He admits.
You reach up and rub his shoulder with your hand.
“You’re not the one out there,” you say. “He's not even your kid.”
He looks through the glass into the nearest court, watching a group of taller boys running drills.
“Doesn’t matter,” he says quietly. “He’s still mine.”
The words settle between you.
Protective.
Inside, a volunteer at a folding table calls Nicky’s name and hands him a numbered pinnie. He pulls it over his head, fingers fumbling for half a second before he smooths it down.
He looks smaller suddenly.
And then he doesn’t. He rolls his shoulders back exactly like Yoongi told him to. You catch Yoongi watching that too.
The whistle blows.
“Players to Court Three!”
Nicky turns, scanning until he spots the sign. He looks back once. Not at his parents but at you and Yoongi.
Yoongi lifts his chin once.
Go.
And Nicky goes.
The boys line up for drills. Some of them are clearly older. Some were taller, broader shoulders, deeper voices. A couple are already trying to look impressive, dribbling too hard, moving too fast.
Nicky steps into line and the ball hits his hands.
The first drill is simple. He has to dribble down the court and finish with a layup.
One of the older boys goes first. He’s big and fast, but he rushes. The ball gets away from him for a second. His shot hits the backboard too hard and bounces off the rim.
Next, Nicky goes. He doesn’t sprint. He doesn’t try to show off. He keeps the ball low and close to him, steady all the way down the court. When he gets near the basket, he slows just enough to stay balanced. Then, he hits it softly off the glass.
Swish.
The coach looks up from his clipboard and Yoongi gives you a look.
He clocked that too.
Next drill, side shuffles and quick stops. Basically, from what you can tell. Is …can they move on their feet without tripping over themselves?
The older boys move fast… but heavy. You can hear their sneakers slapping the floor.
Nicky’s lighter. Quieter. He doesn’t wobble when he stops. Doesn’t lose his balance when he turns.
Yoongi’s arms are crossed, but you see his shoulders ease a little.
Then they split into small teams for a short scrimmage.
This is where it matters.
Nicky gets matched up with a kid who’s clearly bigger. The kid grins at him like he already thinks he’s won.
You tense.
“Come on, buddy.” Nick mutters behind you.
The ball comes Nicky’s way. The bigger kid crowds him immediately, trying to push him around. Nicky doesn’t panic. He doesn’t force a shot. He waits.Then he suddenly slips past him quick and clean. With a focus straight ahead he runs straight to the basket.
Layup.
Whistle.
“And one!” One of the assistant coaches calls.
You gasp before you can stop yourself. You’re not sure what that means, but you hear Nick clap once behind you. It must be good.
Yoongi doesn’t cheer. He just watches. Focused.
Next time down the court, Nicky has the ball again. The bigger kid tries to crowd him harder this time. Instead of charging forward, Nicky slows down. Changes speed. Makes the kid guess.
Just like Yoongi said. Don't let them think you're predictable.
Then…quick move. The defender stumbles just enough. Nicky moves… but instead of shooting, he passes to an open teammate under the basket.
A few plays later, the bigger kid tries to back Nicky toward the hoop, using his size.
Your stomach twists.
But on the third push, Nicky times it perfectly and knocks the ball loose. It bounces free.
He grabs it.
Takes off down the court.
Layup.
The noise in the gym shifts. Parents start murmuring. Coaches are watching him more now and not casually. Actually watching.
“That’s my boy!” Nick laughs from the bleachers.
However, Nicky isn’t looking at him. He glances at Yoongi for just a second.Yoongi gives him one small nod.
That’s it.
That’s all he needs.
The whistle blows to rotate players. Nicky jogs toward the sideline for water, cheeks flushed, breathing hard, but he’s smiling now.
Not nervous.
Confident.
As he passes, he grins at Yoongi.
“Didn’t flinch,” he says under his breath.
“Nope.” Yoongi huffs a quiet laugh.
You slip your hand into Yoongi’s.This time, he grabs yours immediately, squeezing once.
“He’s better than some of the older kids,” you whisper.
Yoongi watches Nicky head back onto the court, shoulders relaxed like he belongs there.
“Yeah,” he says softly.
There’s no surprise in his voice.
Just pride.
The scrimmage wraps up with a flurry of activity. Whistles shrilling, coaches shouting final notes, and the heavy thud of a dozen basketballs finding their way back into mesh bags. Nicky walks off the court, his pinnie sticking to his sweat-soaked t-shirt, looking like he just conquered a small kingdom.
"Did you see that last steal?" Nicky asks, practically skipping over to you as he reaches the group.
"We saw," Nick says, pulling his son into a one-armed side hug. "Great vision out there, son."
"You were incredible," Sarah adds, brushing a damp curl off his forehead. "Are you hungry? I feel like you burned off enough calories to eat a whole cow."
"Coach?" Nicky looks up at Yoongi, still seeking that final stamp of approval.
Yoongi reaches out, his hand landing heavy and steady on Nicky’s shoulder. "The steal was good. However, the pass to the kid in the corner? That was better. That’s how you win games when you’re outsized. You played like a leader today."
Nicky beams, a look of pure, unadulterated pride on his face. He turns to his parents, finally ready to talk about food.
"Can we get burgers? The big ones from that place we passed?" He asks.
"Burgers it is," Nick laughs. "We’ll meet you guys there? It’s only ten minutes from here."
"Sounds good," you say.
As your family heads toward the exit, you and Yoongi linger for a moment. The intensity of the afternoon is fading, replaced by a comfortable, quiet hum. You look at Yoongi, who is still watching Nicky’s retreating back with a thoughtful expression.
"You really care about him," you say softly.
Yoongi turns to you, the sharp lines of his "Coach" persona softening into something warmer, something more intimate.
"He’s a good kid. He works hard. It’s easy to care about someone who gives you everything they’ve got," he explains as he reaches out, his fingers interlacing with yours. "And he's yours. That makes it even easier."
The drive to the burger place is shorter, but the vibe is different. Nicky is in the back of your car again, but this time he’s fast asleep, his head lolling against the window, exhausted from the day.
"He’s out," you whisper, glancing in the rearview mirror.
"Good. He earned it." Yoongi looks back, a small, genuine smile tugging at his lips.
He turns back to you, his gaze lingering on your face. The dashboard lights cast a soft glow over his features, making him look younger, more relaxed.
"So," he says, his voice a low vibration in the quiet car. "Your family likes me. Your nephew thinks I’m a god and you’re like wearing my hoodie."
"Don't get cocky," you warn, though you can't help the smile spreading across your face.
"I'm not," he says, his thumb tracing circles on the back of your hand. "I’m just observing the facts. It feels like we’re moving forward."
"We are," you admit.
"Good," he says. "Because I'm not planning on going anywhere."
You pull into the parking lot of the burger joint, the neon sign bright and red overhead. For the first time in a long time, the future doesn't feel like a series of no labels and half-stories. It feels like it’s steady, honest, and worth the effort.
"Ready for another family dinner?" You ask, nodding toward your brother’s truck already parked in front. “At least it’s easy this time.”
Yoongi lets out a long, dramatic sigh, but his eyes are bright.
"As long as there’s no more talk about 401ks, I think I’ll survive." He jokes.
"I make no promises," you laugh, leaning over to press a quick, soft kiss to his cheek. "But I'll protect you."
"I'll hold you to that," he mutters, his hand lingering on your waist for just a second longer than necessary before waking the sleepy boy in the back and head inside.
It is a rainy Thursday night when it happens, the kind of lazy evening where the world outside felt like it didn't exist. The television was on. Some mindless reality show playing at a low volume, but neither of you were really watching. Yoongi’s head was back against the cushions, his eyes closed, one hand idly tracing patterns on your arm. Your lips are pressing softly into his neck as your fingers sink into the softness of his shirt.
Then, the buzzing starts.
It wasn't a single notification. It was the rhythmic, persistent vibration of a phone being blown up.
Bzzz. Bzzz. Bzzz.
The sound was muffled, coming from the pocket of his pants. Yoongi doesn't move at first. He didn't even open his eyes. He just let out a long, weary breath through his nose.
Bzzz. Bzzz. Bzzz.
"You're popular," you murmur, shifting slightly.
The vibration was so strong you could feel it against your leg where you were pressed against him.
"It’s probably just basketball stuff," he grumbles. "Someone probably lost a jersey or wants to argue about the schedule. Ignore it."
You look at him for a moment before you press your lips against his. His hands slowly make their way up your back and under your shirt. Sighing into the kiss, your eyes pop open as his phone goes off again. He makes no move to check it.
"Yoongi," you say, poking his ribs. "Check it. It’s annoying."
“It's fine,” he says, trying to pull you back in.
You pull back and look at him. Your eyes narrow as you stare at him. His phone isn't just buzzing with a notification this time.
It's ringing.
Quickly, you reach your hand in his pocket and grab his black device just in time to see Ara's name on the screen.
The silence in the room isn't cozy anymore. It’s heavy, suffocating under the weight of that glowing screen. You stare at the name Ara until the letters blur, then you look at Yoongi. He isn't reaching for the phone. He’s looking at the coffee table like he wishes it would swallow him whole.
"You said you handled it,” you whisper. “If you handled it. Why is she calling and you're sitting here letting the phone vibrate against your leg while you kiss me?"
Yoongi takes the phone and finally silences it. He looks trapped between the man you saw at dinner with your family and the man who is clearly hiding something.
"It's not that simple," he mutters, rubbing the back of his neck.
"It is that simple! You tell her to go to hell, and you move on!" You yell, sliding off his lap. "Unless there's a reason you can't."
Yoongi exhales a sharp, jagged breath. He looks at the phone, then back at you.
"She’s the reason we have the nice jerseys, okay?" He finally snaps. "She’s the reason the Ravens don't have to stand outside grocery stores selling candy bars. She’s the reason Nicky wants to be on the team because we have the best equipment for practice, the best team gear. Ara sponsors everything."
You freeze.
"The Ravens don't fundraise, Doll," he says, his voice dropping, defeated. "We don't have to put in the work the Bearcats do because Ara writes a check every season that covers everything. If I cut her off completely. If I tell her to get lost the way I want to. She pulls the funding. I haven't gotten rid of her because she is the Ravens. I’ve been trying to find a way out, trying to find new sponsors so I can finally tell her to stay away from me, but until then..."
"Until then, she gets to call you at ten at night?" You ask, your voice trembling. "Until then, she gets to insult me and call my family’s team a charity case while she pays for your perfect team?"
Yoongi doesn't answer. He doesn't have to. The buzzing starts again in his hand, a physical reminder that the Ravens come with a price, and right now, you're the one paying it.
The second that phone buzzes again, something in you snaps.
Not loud.
Not dramatic.
Just clean.
Done.
“You need to get out.” You tell him, your voice is flat and devoid of emotion.
“What?” Yoongi actually looks confused.
“Get. Out.” You point at the door. No shaking. No tears. “Right now.”
“You’re overreacting.” His face hardens.
“No.” You grab his jacket off the chair and shove it into his chest. “I’ve been under-reacting. I should have fucking known better, but I went against my gut.”
He doesn’t take it at first. He just stares at you like he doesn’t recognize you.
“You don’t get to sit here,” you continue, voice ice-cold. “While another woman funds your life and blows up your phone like she owns you.”
“She doesn’t own me.” He argues.
“She owns your team,” you fire back. “Which means she owns your attention. Your loyalty. Your availability and I am not competing with that.”
The phone buzzes again in his hand and you don’t even flinch.
“You said she is the Ravens,” you say. “So go be with her.”
“You’re really kicking me out over this?” His jaw tightens as he silences his phone.
“I’m kicking you out because I refuse to be disrespected in my own living room.” You clarify.
Silence.
“You think silencing the call fixes it?” You continue. “It doesn’t. It just means you’ll sneak off later to handle it. I’m not doing this. I’m not sitting here wondering when she gets to pull you away.”
“You’re being unfair.” His voice drops.
“And you’re being weak.” You tell him, your voice deathly low. That one lands exactly where you intend it to. “If she’s that essential,” you say, stepping closer so he has no room to misinterpret you. “Then go protect your investment. She’s much more important than I am.”
“So that’s it?” His eyes flash.
“Yes.” No hesitation. No softness. “That’s it.” You nod your head agreeing with him.
The rain pounds harder outside hitting your windows.
“You don’t get access to me while she still has access to you,” you say. “Figure out your sponsorship. Figure out your priorities, but you’re not doing it from my couch. You should have done it the first time around.”
He stares at you for a long moment, like he’s waiting for you to fold.
You don’t.
Instead, you walk to the door and open it wide.
“Out, Yoongi.” You stare at him and wait.
“If I walk out…” His eyes flash.
“Then walk.” You tell him.
Your voice doesn’t waver. For a split second, something vulnerable flickers in his expression but you don’t react to it.
You don’t soften.
He grabs his jacket and his phone buzzes again.This time, when he walks past you into the hallway, you don’t look at him. You close the door behind him.
Lock it.
And let the rain swallow the silence.
The boys were outside running laps with Jungkook by the time you park your car.
They didn't need to see this.
You keep your focus straight ahead. You don’t hesitate as you walk straight across the court, his blue hoodie folded in your hands. Clean, no trace of your scent anywhere lingering on the fabric.
Yoongi sees you first as he turns from his clipboard.
Confusion flickers across his face. Then something like alarm takes its place.
“What are you doing here?” He asks under his breath as you stop in front of him.
You hold out the hoodie.
“Returning this,” you say as casually as possible.
“Okay. We can talk later. Not here.” He lowers his voice instantly. Calm. Careful.
“Is everything alright?” Ara asks from the third row of the bleachers.
You look at her and then at him. Then back at her.
“Did he call you back?” You ask casually.
A faint crease appears between her brows.
“I’m sorry?” She questions and Yoongi’s fingers brush your elbow gently.
“Hey. Let’s step outside,” he says, but you don’t move.
“I just want to know if you called her back,” you continue, your voice carrying farther than it needs to. “Because from where I stand. When a woman calls a man repeatedly at ten o'clock at night when he is with his girlfriend. Man …. something must have been wrong.”
A few parents glance over now.
“Stop,” Yoongi tells you
You look at him.
“I don't know what you're talking about,” she says, denying your words.
Then you raise your voice just enough.
“You know what I think,” you laugh. “I think you write your fancy checks in hopes that Yoongi will slide right back into your bed.”
Gasps.
A mother covers her mouth.
“Wait …what?” Someone asks.
Ara’s composure cracks for half a second.
“That is completely inappropriate.” She hisses
“Is it?” You ask. “It happened two years ago and you’re still trying to sleep with him while you’re married. I think that’s inappropriate and kind of desperate. He told me he wishes he never touched you.”
“That’s enough.” Yoongi’s face has gone pale.
“Is that true?” Someone asks.
“You're leaving.” Yoongi steps in front of you, his voice low and panicked.
You sidestep him.
“No,” you say, louder. “You don’t get to quietly manage this like it’s a scheduling issue.”
“There has never been any inappropriate …..” Ara’s voice turns sharp.
“Then why do you call at ten at night?” You snap back, cutting her off. “Why are you so threatened by me?”
Silence.
A father near the front clears his throat awkwardly.
You look at Yoongi … really look at him.
The silence that follows your words is heavy, thick with the kind of secondhand embarrassment that everyone feels. You can feel the eyes of every parent in the gym burning into the back of your neck. Yoongi is standing right in front of you, his chest heaving slightly, looking like a man who just watched his carefully constructed world catch fire.
"I’m done," you say, your voice suddenly dropping from a shout to a cold, steady whisper.
"Y/N, wait.." Yoongi starts, his hand reaching out, but you flinch back before he can make contact.
"Don't," you warn. You look down at the blue Ravens hoodie still gripped in your hands. The "trophy" for a record you helped break, the symbol of a team built on a foundation you can't respect. You drop it. It hits the polished hardwood floor with a soft, dull thud right at his feet.
"I thought you were different from the rest of them," you say, looking him dead in the eye. "I thought no labels meant we were building something real without the pressure. But it just meant you didn't have to be honest. You were managing me, Yoongi. Just like you manage your players and your side bitch." Then you stop and laugh. “Or maybe I was the side bitch.”
"I was trying to protect my team!" He hisses, his desperation finally leaking through the cracks of his composure. "I was trying to keep things stable for the kids. For Nicky!"
"Don't you dare use my nephew as an excuse for your cowardice," you snap. "Nicky doesn't need fancy jerseys and private clinics if they come at the cost of his integrity. He’s a Bearcat. He knows how to work for what he has. All your other teams don't act like fundraising is dirty. They do it because it brings the teams together. Clearly, that’s a lesson you forgot a long time ago."
You glance over at Ara. She’s standing now, her face a mask of fury, her knuckles white as she grips her designer bag. She looks like she wants to scream, but she’s too concerned with her reputation to do it.
"You can have him, Ara," you call out, loud enough for the back row to hear. "The checks, the late-night calls, the fixture status. It's all yours. I’m not interested in competing for a man who’s already been bought and paid for."
You turn back to Yoongi. The heartbreak is there, sharp and stinging behind your ribs, but the anger is stronger. It’s the kind of anger that keeps your spine straight.
"Don't call me," you state firmly. "Don't show up at Maverick’s. We’re moving forward, Yoongi. However, we’re doing it separately."
"You don't mean that," he says, his voice cracking. He looks small in the middle of his own court.
"I've never meant anything more in my life. I thought you were a good guy … but you're not," you whisper.
You turn on your heel and walk away. Every step echoes against the gym floor, a rhythmic, final sound. You don't look back at the parents whispering, or at the boys outside who will probably wonder why the energy in the building just shifted.
You push through the double doors and make your way quickly to your car as fast as you can.
Your new car.
The car your parents bought you because they trusted the man who was showing up for you and you climb inside.
Your hands are shaking as you grip the steering wheel, but you don't cry. Not yet. Maybe you will let yourself do that later after a couple of drinks. You start the engine, the reliable hum a stark contrast to the chaos you just left behind. As you pull out of the parking lot, you see Yoongi come through the doors, stopping on the sidewalk, looking lost.
snowghoul
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