Summary: You were selected to marry the wayward CEO/Billionaire/Heir, Min Yoongi. You went into it with an open mind and heart determined to try and make it work. Yoongi on the other hand had no intention of ever letting you in let alone allowing himself to fall in love with you. Slowly you start to associate the smell of cinnamon and vanilla with the feelings of hurt and sorrow.
Summary: You have never experienced true love which is hilarious considering you write romance novels for a living. When you end up staying at The Interlude Inn located in Holly Falls you start to wonder if maybe the answer to your newest love story is sitting behind the welcome desk. Quickly, you find out that Min Yoongi hides a lot of pain and sorrow behind his shy smiles and quick glances.
Part 1 Part 2
Raspberry Romances (Completed)
Summary: There’s no one on this planet you hate more than your coworker/secret crush Min Yoongi. He’s an arrogant, rude, womanizer who gets under your skin every single shift and you can’t wait for your day to be over so you can get away from him. Unfortunately when Jimin, your caseworker from The Ministry of Adoration, shows up offering you both a raspberry jam filled cookie, things take a surprising turn for the worst and you can no longer get away.
Chapter 1- Coffee and Cookies
Chapter 2- Whiskey and Wedding Cake
Chapter 3- Tea and Tteok-bokki
Chapter 4- Sparkling Cider & Strawberry Pie
Chapter 5- Tacos and Tangerine Juice
Cold Brewed Love (Completed)
Summary: When you begged the owner of Jin’s Java House to hire more employees you didn’t mean for him to stick you with the cold, rude, arrogant CEO Min Yoongi. Over time something begins to brew between you both and you end up forced to make decisions way above the pay grade of a cafe barista.
Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3
Cherries (Completed)
Summary: He hated them yet they became a symbol of your love for each other. Until one day they just might be what tears you apart.
Hiiii I love your work, specially when you write about Yoongi! I loved the dating headcannons you did for him and was wondering what you picture aftercare with him to be like, in more details? Thank you so much and amazing work as always ❤️
💌 Reply:
Hi lovely! 💜 Your messages always make my day, thank you SO much for your kind words and for trusting me with Yoongi. I adore writing him, and your support and comments always give me a reason to smile.
I’ve poured extra care into this answer, so I really hope it’s everything you wanted and more.
Sending you a virtual hug and endless love 💜
-c-
Also I'm back from my little break, still have one more uni assignment to finish (RIP)... but I'm trying my best to keep up with all your requests
YOONGI AFTERCARE HEADCANONS
GENERAL AFTERCARE
Actions
helps you sit up slowly
arm braced around your waist
“Easy. I’ve got you.”
hands you a pre-warmed towel to drape over yourself
cleans your thighs and stomach with another damp cloth
preheated on a radiator
his touch is clinical but tender
his hands are methodical
avoiding any sensitive areas unless you nod permission
lingering on pressure points (shoulders, lower back)
easing tension
guides you to the bed or couch (if not already there)
never leaves you alone
adjusts the thermostat first
layers blankets over you
gathers used towels and sheets without comment
balling them into a laundry hamper
spritzes the room with your favourite scent to freshen the air
adjusts the sheets around you both
tucking the edge under your chin
his lips brush your forehead, lingering
“Perfect. You’re perfect.”
brings you water in his favorite mug
holds it to your lips if you’re shaky
“Slow sips. I’ve got you.”
brings spiced hot chocolate (his secret recipe)
sips from the same mug first
“Not too sweet. Like you.”
peels a tangerine slowly
each segment on your lips
his eyes never leave your mouth
“Open. Slow.”
dresses you in his oversized hoodie and fleece socks
smelling like his cologne
“Warmer now?”
syncs his breathing to yours
nose buried in your hair
when your breath hitches, he hums low to steady you (snippet of Seesaw)
Touch
sits behind you
legs bracketing yours
massages your scalp
“You’re safe. Always.”
traces idle patterns on your arm to keep you present
pulls you against his chest
skin-to-skin
his heartbeat steady under your ear
his palm rests between your shoulder blades
fingers splayed possessively
“Stay here. Just… stay.”
interlaces his fingers with yours
thumb stroking your knuckles
other hand traces idle shapes on your hip (a heart, his initials, a music note)
claiming without urgency
presses your palm flat over his heart.
“Feel that? Yours. Always yours.”
IF YOU CAN’T WALK:
scoops you up bridal-style
one arm under your knees
the other cradling your back
his biceps flex, steady
“Hold on. Don’t let go.”
carries you to the bathroom
he’s already laid out fresh towels and your go-to skincare on the counter
“Prepped earlier. Knew you’d need it.”
VERBAL CUES
murmurs “Good job” or “You did so well”
voice gravelly but tender
“Need anything? Name it.”
if you’re quiet, he fills the silence:
“Tell me what you need. Anything.”
AFTER ROUGHER MOMENTS
kneads arnica gel into your bruises
fingers firm but careful
“I’m sorry. Too much?”
draws a warm bath with epsom salts
carries you in if needed
lines the tub edge with a folded towel (probably prepared it before)
“For your head. Lean back.”
tests the water temperature
adjusts it until steam rises just enough
“Not too hot. Perfect.”
kneels beside the tub
sleeves rolled up
uses a silky washcloth and unscented soap to clean you
starting at your shoulders
avoids lingering, but his fingers brush your collarbone once
= apology and reverence
“Just float. I’m here.”
washes your hair meticulously
massaging your scalp
“Close your eyes.”
rinses with a cup to keep suds from your face
while you rest in his robe, he strips the bed swiftly
layers fresh sheets (100% cotton, ivory)
arranges pillows in a nest
adds a heated blanket pre-warmed in the dryer
“In case you get cold.”
lifts you back into bed
adjusting the pillows behind your head
tucks the comforter up to your chin
“Rest. I’ll handle the rest.”
kneels at the foot of the bed
massaging your calves with vanilla-scented oil
thumbs dig into knots
voice a rumble:
“Tell me where. I’ll fix it.”
EMOTIONAL DROP/ CARE
cradles your face
forehead pressed to yours
“Look at me. You’re real. This is real.”
whispers “Mianhae” (I’m sorry) against your temple
even tho you consented
guilt flickers in his eyes until you reassure him
FOLLOW UP
sleeps on his side
arm slung over your waist
pulling you into his chest
if you stir, he murmurs: “Shh” and tightens his grip
texts you the next day:
“How’s your body? Honestly.”
if you’re sore, he delivers home-cooked soup to your door
HIS THOUGHTS & FEELINGS
Internal Monologue
replays every moment
critiquing himself
“Did I push too hard? Fuck. Should’ve checked in more.”
“They’re so… trusting. I can’t fail that.”
watches your lashes flutter
memorizing the way moonlight paints your skin
“Do they know? How much they undo me.”
“Should’ve used more lube. Idiot.”
mentally adds it to his shopping list
“Their smile… worth every second.”
Pride/Protectiveness
smiles faintly when he sees his hoodie on you
“Mine. But theirs too.”
files away your aftercare preferences in his Notes app:
“Min Yoongi is many a thing in your life. Coworker, superior, best friend and beloved long-term boyfriend. Yes, that’s right. You are dating your boss. It’s a lot easier than it sounds. You get to live together, get to go to work together and get to spend lunch break together. Problem is, Yoongi decided to wear his pretty blue button-up today and this shirt has a rather lethal effect on you. Thankfully, he has his own private office.“
Pairing: Yoongi x f.Reader
Genre: coworkers!AU, established relationship!AU, office romance!AU, Smut
Warnings: office worker!yoongles in glasses <3, soft boyfie!yoongles who is shy about pda <3, secret cuddlebug!yoongles, unapologetic flirting by OC while he blushes, spending lunch break in his office, sub!Yoongi, soft Domme!Reader, a quickie in his office chair, clothed sex (he only takes his dick out and she keeps her skirt on), blowjob, handjob, a lil bit of edging, unprotected penetrative sex, kissing, slight dirty talk, lipstick stains all over his lips and neck, finger sucking (m.giving), not a lot of kink is happening tbfh she is horny and he can't say no to her cause he is also horny but would never confess it jdfjsa, this is cute and sexy (just like yoongi)
Wordcount: 5.5k
a/n: yet again, this is an idea from kinktober24 which didn't make it on the official list but which i NEEDED on my blog <3 subby office worker!yoongi is my secret weakness and this yoongi is just so dreamy 💜 ps: happy birthday boongs, i really miss you :(
“Have you seen my glasses?” he asks, busy with packing his bag.
“They’re on your head, baby”, you tell him, putting on lipstick.
“Oh. Thanks.”
“Always happy to help.”
You finish. Yoongi swerves in behind you, running his hand over your waist innocently. Your body communicates with him easily, moving out of the way so he can use the hallway mirror next.
He makes sure that his button up sits correctly, while you put on your heels and jacket. He glances at you over the brim of his glasses.
“Wait. Let me”, he offers, helping you slip it on.
“Thank you.”
He kisses your cheek and steps back, picking up his thermos of coffee and the car keys.
“Are we ready to go?”
“Wait, last check. Yup, we’re ready.”
You and he live on the fourth floor, taking the elevator down to the apartment complex’ parking garage. You hold hands as you walk to your car together and you hold his thermos while he drives. He rubs your knee each time you stop at a red light, while you hand him the thermos so he can enjoy his morning coffee.
You and he don’t talk a lot, sharing silence which a podcast fills. The two of you have become obsessed with listening to a music podcast together. It’s been your background noise while you cook, clean and wash up at night and while you drive to work together. It is a really nice tradition because you and he have so much more to talk about.
If this story didn’t make it clear up until this point, you and Yoongi are together. You met at work seven years ago and fell in love two years later. He asked you if you wanted him as your boyfriend on your fourth date and last year in June, you asked him if he wanted to look for a shared apartment.
Dating him is easy because he is the most lovable person ever and disagreements between you and him are beyond rare. And if they happen, they are always healthy and calm. He makes you feel loved daily and ever since you and he moved in together, you feel settled in life. As if he is truly it for you. The one true love you will always have.
Dating him is also incredibly fun and exciting. He is quiet and calm on most days, but sometimes he gets really hyper and dorky and it always makes you laugh when he goofs around.
In return, Yoongi constantly finds himself with an aching belly from laughing too much with you. Just as much as he feels at peace. Being with you feels safe and as if he is finally where he always belonged.
Dating however, also means that you are in love with your co-worker and you have to act professional at your workplace. Which is sometimes very difficult to do because you are basically obsessed with him.
Your other colleagues know that you and he are together, your higher ups know too. It was a little bit of a scandal at first, but they simply had to learn to live with it. You and Yoongi are a thing which will keep being a thing. So it isn't like you and he are a secret, but Yoongi is also very shy about public displays of affection. Especially when it comes to PDA in a professional environment. The touchiest thing you will get from him is a cheeky shoulder rub or getting your hand held in the elevator to your office.
He also holds it on your way to your desk, greeting your shared colleagues as you pass them.
Yoongi has been at this company three years longer than you and works in management, which naturally makes him superior to you in hierarchy. It also means that he gets his own private office, while you have to share an open space office with some of your colleagues. You don’t mind because the people you work with are, thankfully, all very sweet and being so separated during work also gives you and Yoongi a sense of still being independent adults living their individual lives.
Like every morning, Yoongi leaves you by your desk.
“See you at lunch break”, he says his goodbyes, rubbing your shoulder.
“Yes. See you then.”
And then he already makes his way to his office while you get ready for the next four hours of work.
You take a short coffee break two hours into your morning shift. You do a little stretch upon standing up, then make your way to the shared break room. It is empty, safe for Yoongi who is making himself coffee. He rolled up the sleeves of his button up by now. You have to fight every single fiber in your body not to bite his lower arm. Or slap his butt for that matter. He has a really great butt.
“Well hello there handsome, fancy seeing you here”, you greet him.
Yoongi looks over his shoulder, “oh, hey. Coffee?”
“Yes, please.”
“I’m making it.”
You close the distance and back hug him, resting your cheek against him. As expected, Yoongi tenses up.
“We’re at work”, he says.
“I know and it’s just the two of us right now. I’m just really needy for you today.”
“Hush, keep your voice down”, he whispers, turning in your arms. He looks panicked. “Don’t be so dirty.”
“I didn’t mean it like that, doofus. I just think that you’re really handsome in your button up. Blue is really your colour.”
“Oh. Thanks”, he mumbles and looks to the side shyly.
“Mhm yeah” you say, gazing at him with love drunk eyes.
“Okay uhm”, he shimmies out of your hug and turns to the coffee machine. It is so obvious to you that he currently feels shy.
Which is so endearing to you. It is one of the reasons why you fell for him. In the beginning phase where you still tried to fight the tension, he was so lovably clumsy and nervous with his words whenever he talked to you and it charmed you beyond repair.
These days, one of your favourite pastime activities is flirting with him just to get him shy. He always blushes when this happens and it is so adorable.
You join his side, leaning against the counter and looking at his face. The faintest of pink adorns his cheeks. Cute.
“How’s it going?” you ask him.
“Good. I need to go through grant applications today.”
“Oh, sounds important.”
“Yeah, it is. And you?”
“Good too. I spend most of my time thinking of you.”
Yoongi glances at you for a brief moment and looks away again. He stays silent, but the blush grows.
You snicker, reaching out to give his upper arm a tender rub.
“Sorry, gosh I’m bullying you today, aren’t I?”
“A little. I don’t know how to react.”
“Sorry, I know I know. I’m already stopping. It’s your shirt, it makes me like this.”
“Why? It’s a shirt.”
“It’s a sexy shirt.”
He glances again and frowns.
“Fine, this was the last flirt, I promise”, you give up, chuckling.
Yoongi stays silent, handing you the cup of coffee. He turns to face you, leaning his hip against the counter.
“Gosh, you’re so handsome.”
“Baby, you said no more flirting”, he whines, pouting.
“I’m not flirting, I’m being honest. You’re so handsome.”
Sadly for you, a few of your co-workers enter the break room. Yoongi uses the opportunity to flee the situation. Not because he doesn’t want to spend time with you, but because he can’t take any more of your very amazing flirting.
“See you at lunch.”
“Yes, see you. Lunch. Very soon”, you say, following him with your eyes dreamily.
“So, I finally asked Mingyu for his number”, your colleague says, pulling you into a conversation about her love life. Yoongi is gone for now, but not forgotten. Of course he isn’t. The image of him in his blue button up with his sleeves rolled up will haunt you for the rest of your morning shift.
Your company is insanely generous with the amount of lunch break you are getting. A full hour of paid lunch time is part of the contract. Just like on most days, you are one of the last people to leave for lunch. Most of your colleagues leave the office to eat at some of the many restaurants in the neighbourhood. You will also leave, but have to get Yoongi first. He would forget that it was time otherwise because he always works so hard.
You greet your big boss as she passes you on her way to her lunch break and your way to Yoongi’s office. She soon disappears behind a corner.
You knock on his door.
“Come in!”
You enter the room, closing the door behind you.
“On a scale of one to ten, how hungry are you?” you ask him.
“Uh…I don’t know. I ate a granola bar twenty minutes ago, so four-ish? Why?”
“Good”, you say and lock his door.
“Why are you locking my door?”
“So I can do this and not have someone walk in on us”, you say and close the distance in big steps.
You pull him out from under his desk and turn him to you.
“Wha-”
Yoongi gets no time to complain or process what was happening and then you are already on his lap, claiming his lips in a needy kiss.
He squeaks in surprise. You get to kiss him for a good two seconds and then he breaks it. He touches his lips, gawking at you scandalized and flustered.
“What are you doing?”
“Making use of our sixty minutes. The ramen bar across the street needs five minutes to make ramen, you and I need around twenty minutes to walk over there and eat. Which gives us a good thirty five minutes extra.”
“Okay and?”
“And I’m gonna use them well.” You falter for a moment. “If you’re down too, of course.”
“No, of course I’m not down. We’re at work. People could hear us or see us”, he is whispering, eyes widened in urgency.
“We’re all alone. Even Mina left for lunch.”
Mina was your big boss and she won’t be back until three o’clock because of meetings.
“But still, I say no.”
“Ugh fine. Whatever you want”, you say and climb off his lap, “but then I wanna go somewhere else. Maybe sushi?” you suggest, turning your back to him to leave.
Yoongi ogles your butt in the skirt you are wearing. He is internally panicking. He didn’t expect you to actually accept his no so easily (which makes no sense because you always accept his no without argument). He secretly hoped for you to try and convince him, because let us be honest for a moment, Yoongi is also obsessed with you. The skirt you chose today is one of his favourites and your unapologetic flirting really made his blood boil. You are also wearing his favourite perfume and when he snuck a glance at you as you got dressed, he got a glimpse of lace panties. Yoongi loves lace panties.
“Wait, okay fine. I’m down too”, he reveals his lie.
“Really?”
He blushes and looks to the side, nodding his head.
“Oh my god, yay!” you exclaim and climb on his lap again. You cradle his face, turning it to you so you can kiss him.
He kisses you back for a little while, but then breaks it again.
“But only if we’re quiet. Please, we really have to be quiet.”
“We’ll be quiet. Just come here, you”, you promise, attacking his neck with hungry kisses.
Yoongi feels his eyes roll back and shivers run down his spine. He drops his head against the backrest of his chair, parting his lips.
“God you smell so sexy. I love this cologne on you. God, you. Mhhhm god”, you babble between your hungry kisses, driving him crazy in the process.
“Also no marks please”, he begs.
“Promise. Now relax and stop worrying.”
“Wait. Actually.”
You sit up.
“We should set a timer.”
You chuckle. He is such an awkward bean sometimes.
“Good idea, let’s set a timer.”
“I’ll do it.”
You watch him fondly as he fumbles with the timer on his watch. His lips and neck are covered in lipstick marks. His hair is a little ruffled. God, you could honestly eat this man. He is so yummy.
“Okay, timer set. Wait. You locked the door, right?”
“Yes baby, I locked the door.”
“Okay, okay. Now I’m good.”
He leans back and shifts his eyes to you.
“What?”
“Nothing, I just really like you”, you say and lean down to kiss the other side of his neck. “You’re just so perfect, Yoongi baby.”
“A-ah. Mhmmm.”
His eyes roll back and close, his lips part. His neck is so sensitive and your kisses feel incredible.
You and Yoongi started off today a little worked up. It may have been your fault because you woke up horny after a sexy dream about him and therefore engaged Yoongi in a sleepy make out session. Said session only lasted five minutes and then you both needed to get up for work. You and he tried not to address what said session did, but it definitely haunted you throughout the morning.
“Shit, baby”, you break away from his neck to whisper against his ear, making him dizzy in the process, “all I want right now is your dick in my mouth.”
He throws his hand over his mouth, gawking in shock. You snicker, fluttering your lashes playfully.
“Please be more quiet”, he whispers.
“You’re so cute”, you chuckle and kiss his ear. You slip off his lap and between his legs, making him gasp.
Your eyes meet. His cheeks are flushed, his eyes are widened.
“Is this okay for me to do?”
He nods his head, breathing the shiest “yeah”.
“Thank you. God seriously, I dreamed of blowing you and it’s been driving me crazy”, you finally confess, fingers busy with opening his pants.
Yoongi’s chest lifts and sinks in a quick rhythm. He is so excited and at the same time, terribly nervous. You and he never did it at the office before. Or in public for that matter. He feels like a criminal, grasping the armrests of his chair as support.
The zipper of his pants opens quickly. You slip your hand into the front of his slacks and boxer briefs, then take out his cock. He is still only semi-hard.
“Oh god”, he croaks, shifting nervously.
“Everything still okay?”
“Yeah just. You really locked the door?”
“I did. Promise.”
“A-and you’ll be really quiet?”
“Yes, very quiet.”
You decide to take his mind off of his nerves by kissing the tip of his dick. You use your hand to massage the base and get him worked up.
Yoongi sucks in air and throws his hand over his mouth.
“Oh god”, he murmurs.
“I love your dick. You’ve got the cutest dick ever. Mhm love it so much.”
This wasn’t a lie. Yoongi has indeed a very cute dick. Now don’t misunderstand, his dick game is insane. This man knows how to make you see stars with just his cock. It’s perfect in length, in girth and in shape. There is genuinely nothing missing and also nothing which is too much. And yet, you still think that it is so cute. Just like his elbows and knees, it easily flushes pink and when you play with him just right, it leaks and twitches. When you get him really fucking worked up – to the point where he curses and spits the dirtiest words – his dick becomes veiny and oh so swollen and when you make him cum, it trembles oh so needily.
It is just such a perfect dick and right now, you take it inside to get him fully hard.
Yoongi drops his head against the chair, scrunching his face as he grinds his teeth.
This feels really good. Really, really good and if you two were at home, he would moan. But he can’t. Not here. He has to be quiet.
You are a little louder, purring in enjoyment as you suckle on his tip.
“Please not too hard”, he begs, breathing heavily.
“Mh-hm”, you assure him, rubbing his thigh and massaging his shaft. He should feel good and comfortable.
You are aware that this is something totally new and that Yoongi is very private about PDA and especially sex. The last thing you want out of this is for him to finish with a bad feeling in his tummy.
You know that you could be louder and rougher because the office is genuinely empty, but you keep it gentle for Yoongi’s sake. Sex is – after all – most enjoyable when both parties involved are totally into it.
“Is it okay how I do it?” you ask and continue the rhythm. You focus your attention on his first two inches, suckling on them while swirling your tongue around his tip.
“It’s…good”, he breathes out and chokes down his moan. It is more than good, it is amazing. Yoongi really wants to be at home right now so he can be loud.
“Yeah? Good?”
“Good…”
“Just tell me when you want something changed.”
Yoongi hums, nodding his head. He shifts in his chair, gasping for air because you sink him in as deep as you can go. His armrests croak as he tightens his fingers on them.
You purr and suck, moving your head up as you do. You increase the suction when reached his tip, swirl your tongue and sink down again. With the new rhythm asserted, you begin your hungry feast. He is so fucking delicious, throbbing between your fingers as you work him up to his potential.
Yoongi groans quietly, throwing his hands over his face for just a second before he drops them again, grasping the edge of the chair. He loves oral sex. Now granted, he loves giving it more than he does receiving it. The thing with Yoongi is that getting his dick munched on really – really – gets him there fast. He just can’t hold on for long before he is already close.
And you are really working hard today to ruin him.
“Fuck”, he chokes out under his breath.
The word fills the room with its meaning. You got him cursing.
You slip off his dick to run the tip of your tongue along his veins. He throbs needily, messying his tip more and more because you aren’t sucking it off anymore. You will have such a yummy surprise once you take him back in.
What you are doing right now feels so intense. You are very precise with your tongue and because you are using the tip of it, the stimulation is strong and tingly. Really tingly. So tingly in fact, that Yoongi has to squirm in his chair and arch his back.
Your tongue glides over his tip. You stop.
“Mhm?” You look at his dick. “Oh my god, you’re so wet.”
Yoongi whines quietly, face feeling on fire. It’s so embarrassing to be called out and it makes him even wetter.
“Oh god, baby. Oh god”, you chant as you lick and suck the yummy surprise off of him.
Yoongi tastes really good. And you aren’t saying that just to be nice. Oh no, in your past you were not afraid to tell your partners if they needed to take better care of their dicks. Yoongi genuinely tastes so good. He takes hygiene very seriously and leaks the yummiest pleasure. It’s just a little salty, but most of all it has a sweetish taste to it because he loves eating cranberries (to make his dick taste good). He is very cute. And perfect. And yummy. And fuck, you are so hungry for him. You growl quietly, sinking him back into your mouth just to suck the very soul out of his dick.
“Ah! Shhiii- Ah!” he squirms helplessly, suddenly feeling on fire. “A lot. A-a lot.”
“Mhm”, you agree as you get sloppy with his dick. You drool all over it and smear lipstick everywhere. Your hand works overtime to jerk off what you can’t fit and your left hand runs up his torso to rub his nipple over his shirt. You are insane for him. Completely starved and hungry.
Yoongi puts his right hand on the nape of your neck.
“I have to cum”, he tries oh so hard to be quiet, “I’m almost there.”
His words motivate you to focus on his tip. This always gets him there. He is so, so sensitive. And pink. And leaky. And yummy. Oh so yummy.
“I have to cum in your mouth. Is it okay?”
You nod your head. Yoongi whimpers quietly, biting his lower lip. His fingers tighten on your head, his legs tremble. His stomach is so tight, his cock feels on fire. One more suck he is going to burst. He scrunches his nose, eyes glassy because he refuses to close them and therefore stop looking at you. You flick your tongue over his favourite spot. This was it.
Yoongi squeezes his eyes shut and drops his squirming hips.
“I’m cum-”
You purr and suck him aggressively as you slip off, squeezing your fingers around his base to stop his orgasm. His poor, flushed cock throbs, weeping in agony. He gasps and exhales heavily, hips rolling up to chase the decreasing pleasure. His eyes open, glistening sadly.
“That was mean”, he murmurs, pouting. He is squirming and pouting so, so much. As if you broke his hopeful, trusting heart.
“Sorry, you pouty”, you chuckle, kissing his shaft as an apology.
“That was so mean. It hurts”, he complains in a shaky voice, sounding close to tears. He always gets like this when you edge him. Which is why you love doing it because he is so cute when he gets sniffly in desperation. And Yoongi loves being edged. Just maybe not today. Because he is so, so, so, horny today and now his balls ache and his dick is sensitive and everything just feels too intense for the place he is currently at. Yoongi shouldn’t feel so needy in the office, but now he does and he has to sniffle and pout because of it.
“Please can I cum?” he begs you with glistening puppy eyes.
“Soon. And not in my mouth. Can I sit on you?”
He nods his head vigorously, rubbing your neck. “Please do, please.”
You stand up. Yoongi instantly reaches for you, rubbing your hips and gazing up at you with needy eyes.
“Do you have a condom?” you talk to him as you take off your panties.
“No. Why? Sorry, I don’t. I didn’t know that I had to. We agreed that we don’t have to fuck with condoms anymore because being clean and being on birth control and all that.”
“It’s fine, I don’t blame you. I don’t have one either. Guess I just have to let it run into a tissue afterwards”, you say, climbing his lap. You keep the skirt on. Yoongi loves that you do, feeling unable to stop looking at you.
“I can clean it with my mouth”, he offers.
You laugh, gazing at him.
“Or that. God you. I’m mad for you”, you say and sink down on him, swallowing his moan as you kiss him.
He bottoms out within a second and you pick up a quick rhythm. You have no time to waste. Time’s running out and you’ve got to make most of it. You’re so wet that you can easily ride him passionately.
Yoongi feels as if you just punched him in the gut. This is so fucking intense and you gave him no time to get used to it. If he didn’t have the control of a champion, he instantly would have climaxed.
Now all he can do is gaze up at you with a pleasure contorted, flushed face and a turning head. Your lips are messy from the lipstick, your skin is radiant and your eyes are half-lidded in pleasure. He feels in presence of a goddess. The only goddess he will ever pray to and it makes his heart race as much as it makes his dick throb.
“Fuck, you feel so good”, you pant, grasping his hair at the nape of his neck.
“___”, he moans, looking up at you with an agape mouth and droopy eyes behind tilted glasses. His big hands are on your hips, holding on for support.
You fix his glasses then grab his hair again. You slow down for just a moment, sending Yoongi’s heart into overdrive when you lean down to rub the tip of your nose against his’.
He loves nose kisses, squeezing his eyes shut as he trembles in an emotional whimper.
“Mine”, you whisper and kiss the tip of his nose. Then you straighten up and pick up where you left off.
“Ah-nhn”, he wanted to yelp, but stops himself in the last moment, opening his eyes wide and his mouth even wider.
“Do you like this?”
He nods his head, pupils dilated and fingers dimpling your hips.
“Good. Love it too. You’ve got the best cock. So perfect.”
Yoongi’s heart is hammering against his ribcage. He feels so giddy and star-struck and so totally, completely, entirely yours. Also so sensitive. Holy fuck, he is so sensitive. He has to close his eyes otherwise the connection would have thrown him over the edge.
You caress his cheeks and ears, talking to him in a soothing, yet sexy, voice. You know that he is struggling and that he needs your voice to help him hold on.
“It’s not gonna take me long. I hope that’s okay.”
“So okay. So sensitive. Ah…”
“Always so sensitive. My cutie.”
Yoongi whimpers quietly, claiming your lips in a sloppy kiss.
Nobody would ever think this about you and him, but the two of you have such a high sex drive. Now, when you walked down a street side by side or come to work together, the public will never figure just how horny you are for each other. You are sure that most people would describe you and Yoongi as the boring couple. But this is so okay for you and him. The two of you know that you are far from boring and also way too horny for your own goods.
You have so much sex. And you have it often. So often in fact that you have perfected the art of the most satisfying quickie ever because sometimes before work, you just need to let some steam off.
Truly, you and Yoongi are masters at having quickies these days. They are so deeply satisfying and leave you and him with a good tingle in your tummies for the rest of the day.
This right now is going to be a quickie too and, man, is it fun.
The chair croaks slightly under you and Yoongi, the sounds of your heavy breathing and needy kissing fills the room just as much as the wet squelching of your bodies connecting does. You just can’t get enough, pressing yourself closer to him.
Because you only took out his dick and kept his slacks on, the fabric of them rubs against your clit. It’s rough and provides the perfect amount of pressure. It is exactly what you need now that he is running through your veins.
“I’m so into you. Yoongi, fuck.”
“___, I wanna be loud.”
“I know. Me too. Wanna be so nasty with you.”
He mewls softly, dimpling your butt. His eyes burn a little because you force tears to the surface. It feels insane. He can’t help but cry a little.
“Wanna be home.”
“I know, baby. Me too.” You whisper, running your thumb over his lips. “But you’re home. Yeah? You’ll always have a home inside me.”
Yoongi loves being loved by you. It is exactly what his tender, romantic heart needs. You are so deeply in love with him and you want all of him. Yoongi always dreamed of this kind of love and it felt unrealistic until you came around and you say stuff like “he will always have a home inside you”, which is so sexy but also so romantic and Yoongi feels gone.
He whimpers your name, taking your thumb inside his warm mouth. His eyes widen in submission as he sucks on your thumb instinctively.
“Yoongi, fuck”, you press out, grabbing the back of his head with your other hand.
He mewls around your thumb, tongue pulsing as he eagerly sucks.
The view ruins you. His pouty doll-lips are messy with your lipstick and now they are also stuffed with your thumb. His cheeks are flushed and his teary eyes are so, so submissive. The view of him is enough for you. It truly is.
“I’m so close. Are you ready?” you tell him, hips stuttering on his lap. He slips off your thumb, talking in a shaky voice.
“Already holding back. Please…”
“Fuck, you’re so perfect. What a good boy”, you rasp, pulling him into a kiss as you make yourself climax on his cock.
You reach heaven not long after, feeding him your ecstatic moan.
Yoongi whimpers, trembling and tensing up. He croaks, squeezing your ass. His high hits him. Of course it does. You are so tight and warm and your orgasmic throbbing is his weakness. He uses your mouth to keep himself quiet as he rides the waves and paints your walls white.
It is difficult to breathe afterwards. You and he are glued together, sharing air and resting your foreheads together.
“Are you okay?” you break the silence.
“Yeah, dizzy. You?”
“Dizzy too.” You exhale deeply, then kiss his cheek.
Yoongi leans into it, heart racing like crazy. He giggles, setting you off which ends in you and him having a secret giggle fit in his office.
“Why would we do that?” you say as you wipe the lipstick from his neck and face.
“I don't know. We’re so bad.”
“We’re awful. Oh my god. It was so much fun though.”
“It was. But it can’t be a regular thing.”
“Yeah. It’s probably for the best if we controlled ourselves.”
“Yes, it is.”
The timer goes off. Yoongi switches it off, meeting your eyes.
“Perfect timing.”
“Urgh god”, he drops his head back, “you’re actually so bad for me. Why would you make me do that in public?”
“Hey, it takes two. If you didn’t want this too, you would have said so. Don’t blame me.”
Yoongi whines and pouts, because he knows that you were right. You snicker, pecking his cheek.
“Now about food. I think I’m taking the tissue because it’s faster and I’m hungry.”
“Sure. Here”, Yoongi gets it for you and helps you off his cock without making a mess. He even wipes for you, which is deeply intimate and makes you love him more. He hands you your panties.
“Thanks, my love.”
“Yeah.”
He throws the tissue away, wrapped in another tissue, while you put on your panties. And as you use his office mirror to fix yourself up, he stuffs his cock back into his slacks and fixes his clothes. He stands up, closing the distance to you. His arm slings around your waist, his hand rests on your side. He runs his other hand through his hair.
“You’re so handsome.”
“And you’re beautiful”, he retorts, meeting your eyes. “I won’t be able to look at our outfits normally ever again.”
“Me neither. I might get tingly each time you wear this shirt from now on.”
He smiles cutely, resting his cheek against your arm as he hugs your middle.
“Me too with your skirt”, he murmurs and giggles.
You melt into him, giving him your most adoring smile. He is such a cuddly bean in private. It is the most adorable thing about him.
“Gosh you”, you ruffle his hair, “you’re so cute.”
“Yaah love, I just fixed my hair”, he whines.
“Oh! Sorry, sorry. Here, let me. Although, I think that messy hair suits you.”
“Well, not at work. I’m supposed to be proper. Do I still have lipstick somewhere?”
“You’re fine, you shy baby. Am I proper?”
“Yeah, you’re pretty. You should put on more lipstick though, it’s gone.”
“I’m doing it after lunch. Just gonna eat it all off anyway. So ramen?”
“Yes, ramen. You’re paying, for seducing me.”
“Wow okay”, you laugh, “says mister Adonis himself in his blue shirt. It’s your own fault for being so sexy.”
He snickers cutely, holding your hand as you leave the office.
“I’m kidding. I’m paying.”
“No, it’s alright. I can pay.”
“No, I’m paying”, he insists and puts your arm around his waist so you are holding him.
“Fine. Gosh, you’re so cuddly right now. I love it”, you say, holding him happily.
“You and Yoongi have been best friends for years and yet your friendship is build on perhaps the biggest misunderstanding on earth. You, totally into inexperienced guys, think that Yoongi steers away from romance because he is ace and therefore you keep quiet about your huge crush on him. While Yoongi, very eager to get sexy with you, thinks that you are only interested in experienced guys and therefore he sucks up his major crush on you. When one night, you accidentally run in on him touching himself to the thought of you, the foundation of your friendship crumbles irreparably and you are forced to make sense of the rubble.”
Pairing: Yoongi x f.Reader
Genre: best friends to lovers!AU, Smut
Warnings: subbiest!Yoongi, inexperienced!Yoongi, shy!Yoongi, Yoongi in glasses, Domme!Reader, completely whipped!Reader, misunderstandings but make it two idiots in love <3, she thinks that he is ace and he thinks she isn't interested in "virgins", but it's quite the opposite, bruh these two just need to talk fr, male masturbation, handjob, getting caught, neediest making out, she is a lil rough with him but in a loving way, Yoongi is a natural ngnfng, they take turns making the other feel good, body worshipping, nipple licking & play, oral sex (m. & f.receiving), cum swallowing, safe penetrative sex in lotus & cowgirl, he cums so many times, listen. they're all new sensations to him so bear with him <3, he is literally this -> :O the entire time, imagine being a sub and experiencing subspace for the first time in the safest way, yeah this is what happens to him, dirty talk & praise, i feel so feral for this yoongi omfg, naked cuddles & giddy giggles for aftercare hihi <3
Wordcount: 11.5k
a/n: AAAAAAAAAAAAAH! i love him i love him i love him he is such a cutie pattootie boongie woongie sweetie lovely pookie <3 this is an idea from kinktober24 which wasn't chosen for the official list, but i still wanted to write it because it is such a VIBE and we love nerdy virgin!Yoongi with a paSSION eheheh 💗
A short trip during spring has been your friendship tradition for years. Perhaps it is also the reason why you also haven’t had a boyfriend in years. The last one you had, did not like knowing that you would be sharing a room with your male best friend for three nights. You assured him that said best friend was on the ace spectrum, but alas he made you choose and so you chose Yoongi.
It was an easy choice, because it will always be Yoongi. If Yoongi asked you to, you would be his girlfriend in a heartbeat. He is the man of your dreams. He is mature and knows his place in life. He is intelligent and witty. He is highly empathetic and always knows the right comforting words to say. He is kind, so incredibly kind, and he is sweet. He is creative and full of wonderful ideas. He is your calm haven as much as he is the biggest source for your laughter. He is just so funny and most of all, he is a total nerd.
Just like you.
You and Yoongi can spend hours obsessing over your newest shared nerdy fixations and it wouldn't become boring. Many friendship trips ended in you and he locked up in your hotel room while you obsessed over your shared interests together. Each year and for each occasion, you get the other presents inspired by each other’s interests and you are even working on your own DnD campaign together.
He is your dream man, but you also know that he is aromantic and ace and that anything remotely romantic was weird to him. No way in hell would you ever tell him your feelings if it meant making your friendship – and him – uncomfortable.
So you stay quiet while you go on these friendship trips, pretending that sharing a room and bed with him doesn’t totally mess with your sanity and that spending so much quality time together doesn’t completely fuck you over. Sometimes, during these trips, your daydreams of being partners are so intense that you have to stop yourself from calling him baby.
One time, you actually did and Yoongi blushed and you totally saved yourself by turning it into a funny thing. A running gag so to speak, although the only gag running is you. From your confession. Because you’re a coward.
Yoongi is many a things, but he definitely isn’t ace. Nor is he aromantic. Yoongi is actually a complete and utter sucker for romance. And sex. Yoongi loves sex. In theory. In practice not that much. The thought of getting naked in front of someone scares him to the point of willingly staying a virgin. Not that he wouldn’t want to change it, but being naked. Why does one have to be naked during sex? This is so embarrassing.
Yoongi also thinks that you are the most amazing person to ever exist. If someone asked him who would be his dream partner, Yoongi would describe you. You are intelligent, charismatic, funny and have the kindest heart he has ever seen in a person. When he is with you, his mind quiets down and at the same time, he wants to keep being goofy. He also thinks that you are the most beautiful person existing. Inside and out, you are everything he wishes for.
But he also knows that you are so much cooler and much more mature than him when it comes to relationships and that experienced people are a total turn on for you.
And Yoongi is very far from being an expert. So he stays quiet in order not to break his own heart by being rejected for being a loser virgin.
The time you called him baby still haunts him, by the way. Not that this is in any way relevant to this story.
“The water pressure sucks. Just a heads up”, you say, entering the bedroom in nothing but a towel.
Yoongi, sitting on bed and playing a card game on his phone, looks at you only to instantly look away again. His heart skips a few beats. Holy wow.
“I feel like I’m still dirty, even though I really scrubbed myself”, you continue, oblivious to his flabbergasted stares.
“This sucks”, Yoongi answers you, hoping that he sounds calm enough not to call attention.
“It does. Big times.”
Yoongi glances at what you are doing. You are laying out an outfit, including your underwear. It is the lacy kind. Yoongi loves the lacy kind. He presses his legs together in hopes of stopping any kind of blood flow to his dick. He can’t risk it. How embarrassing would that be? He gets hard over your underwear. This is The definition of what a loser virgin would do. You don’t know that he is a virgin and Yoongi really wants to keep it this way.
“Does it still stand that you want to chill?” you ask him, throwing your clothes and lacy underwear over your arm.
You and he talked about dinner and Yoongi said that he wasn’t really hungry and that he would prefer to stay in the room. You don’t blame him. After all, he was the one who had to drive for six hours.
“Yeah. Is it okay if I do?” he says.
“Yes, it’s totally okay. I’m starving, I can’t wait. I hope that the restaurant is better than their water pressure. Otherwise, we totally chose the wrong hotel this year.”
You are talking to him as you walk back to the bathroom to get dressed.
Yoongi feels like a pervert, but when you are already in your underwear, you manage to change positions which makes it possible for him to see you in the reflection of the mirror. A decent person would look away, but Yoongi is a disgusting piece of shit. At least that’s how he feels as he runs his eyes up and down your barely clothed body, wishing for a higher deity to give him strength. You are so beautiful. The lace sits on your curves as if it was made for you, the cups of your bra hold up your breasts in such a nice way and your butt looks so perfect.
It aches. Yoongi wants to touch you and call you beautiful, but he can’t. He can’t because he is a loser virgin and you only like experienced men.
You wear a flowy slip on dress, returning from the bathroom with light makeup on and the sweet scent of your perfume accompanying you.
“Can you help me with my necklace?” you ask him, walking to his side of the bed and sitting down on the edge of it.
“Sure, yeah”, he tries so hard not to squeak his words. You are so close to him that he can really smell your perfume.
You roll your head to the side, exposing your neck to him. You put highlighter on your shoulders and the area of your collarbones. It reflects the lights in a faint shimmer. Yoongi feels jealous of the necklace which gets to brush over this part of you. He is a complete mess, barely managing to close your necklace.
“Done”, he lets you know, accidentally brushing his fingertips down the nape of your neck as he pulls back. Goosebumps cover your skin in reaction and a shiver moves you.
Yoongi gulps.
“This just totally give me the shivers. Do it again.”
Yoongi repeats the touch. You shiver and giggle, reaching back to scratch the spot he touched.
“Totally ticklish too”, you look over your shoulder at him.
If Yoongi was any more of a disrespectful asshole, he would close the distance and kiss your neck. But he isn’t and so he gawks at you with a racing heart.
“Thanks for closing the necklace, you’re a darling.” You stand up and give him a sweet smile.
Yoongi looks up at you over the brim of his glasses. His heart is beating out of his chest by now. He doesn’t know how many more trips he can take before he just bursts and confesses. This year is torture. His feelings are eating him alive.
“I’m downstairs for some. I’m taking the key card and my phone. So if you get locked out, call me”, you say, getting ready to leave.
“Yeah, okay. Have a good meal.”
“Hopefully I will. Have a good chill.”
He chuckles, “I will. Thanks.”
“See you.”
“See you. Bye.”
You leave the room soon after, abandoning Yoongi in his loneliness and yearning. If only he had more experience, he would take this fateful step and confess his feelings for you.
If you were his girlfriend, he would cook for you all the time. He would write you songs and he would perform them to you. He would rub your shoulders on stressful days and wipe your tears on sad days. He would constantly tell people that he was your boyfriend and he would even try to get over his fear of being naked for you.
Yoongi knows that you would feel so nice. Warm and soft. He would love holding you and tracing your body. He would kiss you all over and get droopy from your scent.
Yoongi feels it. It’s happening again. His own disgusting thoughts are turning him on. It happened last year too.
The bed was smaller than this year and you ended up spooning him accidentally while Yoongi laid wide awake with a hard dick and a racing heart. He remembers that he had to leave the room early and secretly jerk off in his car because it just wouldn’t go down otherwise. This was the first time he touched himself to the thought of you and the memory comes back to haunt him.
Is this his fate? Did his brain connect these friendship trips with unbearable horniness? Is he destined to jerk off in secret each fucking year until he shrivels up and you find the love of your life in someone else? Is this it? Is he supposed to stay the pervert best friend who gets off on you?
Yoongi rolls out of bed and tries to get rid of his boner by doing a few jumping jacks. He is not going to give in again. Last year was a mistake, something which will never happen again. No woman deserves to be treated this way. Yoongi is too fucking grown to be such a stereotypical virgin.
The jumping jacks help until his eyes accidentally land on your open suitcase and the second set of lingerie you left on top of your clothes. It’s the lacy kind again. Red this time around. He messes up the jumping jacks, instantly feeling how blood rushes back to his dick. It’s useless. He won’t be able to survive this fucking trip if he doesn’t take care of it. Forcing it away will only end in him getting needier and the boner to be harder to hide. He has to do it now and never think of it again. Yep, that’s what he’ll do. Get it over with quickly and then hate himself for it.
Dinner was a complete fail because the restaurant was already closed. Fifteen minutes later and after one sad trip to the local supermarket for some dry bread, you are already back in front of your hotel room. You try to sneak into the room just in case Yoongi fell asleep. You open and close the door silently and tiptoe into the room. You abandon your heels by the door and continue to tiptoe to the bedroom.
And then you see it and it almost makes you scream.
Yoongi is under the blanket and has his eyes closed. His arm makes the very distinctive movements a man makes when he jerks off. His constant small moans are another indicator
And you feel frozen, feeling your entire world view crumble as you watch Yoongi – the supposedly biggest ace out there – touch himself.
The better part of you tells you to turn around and leave. It almost wins until your name suddenly slips from his lips.
Quietly. Like a beg. So filled with pleasure.
Your knees buckle at the sound of it. If lady boners were a thing, you would have one. A huge one.
“___, you’re so soft, ah…”
Panic. How the fuck are you going to make yourself known? Clear your throat? Cough? Say his name?
“Ah-ah”, Yoongi mewls and arches his back, throwing his arm over his eyes as he clearly finds release to the thought of you.
And you are spiralling. Holy fuck. He just orgasmed to the thought of you.
“Urgh, fuck”, he comes down with a deep growl and gritted teeth, following it up with a squeaky whimper.
Speak! Say something!
He needs a few seconds afterwards to catch his breath. You should make yourself know, but you lost any ability to make a noise.
He just orgasmed to the thought of you.
Yoongi drops his arm from his eyes and opens them. His glasses are tilted, his hair is ruffled.
“Fuck”, he whispers, voice filled with shame.
He sits up to get a tissue, using it to wipe his hand. Afterwards he disappears under the blanket for a moment to clean himself.
“You’re fucking disgusting, Min Yoongi”, you hear him talk to himself.
You are totally frozen and mute, unable to make sense of what just happened.
Yoongi reappears and screams. He saw you, now jumping out of bed in horror.
“What, what, what are you doing here?” He stutters. “Since when. Oh god, since when? What did you see?”
“Uh…I heard my name and… saw what it did to you.”
“Oh my god”, Yoongi falls to his knees, “I’m so sorry, please don’t call the cops. I promise, I’ll leave. You won’t have to see me again. I’m so sorry, oh my god, I’m so sorry.”
“No. Uh.” You shake your head to get back to reality. “It’s fine. This was hot.”
“What?”
“I really wanna kiss you.”
“What??”
Yoongi stands up, gawking at you. It feels as if everything he ever believed was a lie. You want to kiss him??
“Excuse my bluntness, but this made me wet. Like seriously, watching you orgasm to the thought of me changed me as a person”, you say, looking at him as if you wanted to ravish him whole.
Yoongi stutters, but he does it so hard that it stays unintelligible for you. It was definitely something nervous and shocked.
“Do you want me to come closer?” you ask him.
Yoongi blushes vividly. He nods his head shyly, covering his face.
“Holy fuck, Yoongi…”
You close the distance in wobbles, wanting to fall over him like a rabid animal. You want him so bad.
Yoongi panics.
“I’m a virgin!” he yells his confession.
You stop, gawking at him with widened eyes. Yoongi’s face is bright red, his eyes are big.
“Well! Uhm… I jerk off and uh, I had hand stuff done to me. In a club. Once. I was drunk and it was dark. I….And I kissed women. And uhm men. Woah, I just said that.”
“You just said that.”
“Forget I ever said anything. Actually? Forget about me all together. I need to go. Goodbye.”
“Yoongi, hey”, you stop him, holding his hands gently.
Yoongi stops, avoiding your eyes as he does nervous gulps repeatedly. His glasses are starting to fog up by now. This is how high you are raising his temperature. You aren’t helping when you take his chin between two fingers gently. Yoongi feels like prey, vulnerable and totally at your mercy. And the most confusing thing? He likes it. A lot.
“I get that you’re nervous, but don’t be. I don’t judge”, you assure him. You can’t stop looking at him. It has become so much more exciting ever since his confession. Shit, you need to control yourself. It wouldn’t be mannerly to fall over him as if you are starving.
“You don’t judge me?” he asks quietly.
“Of course not. This just totally messes up what I thought of you, so uhm, sorry if I still sound a little shocked.”
“Is it that bad?”
“Not at all. I just always assumed that you were aro-ace because you said that anything romantic and sexual feels weird to you.”
“It’s not weird to me. I’m…” he lowers his head in shame, “I feel weird about being naked. The thought of being perceived in such a state totally gives me a panic attack. I just dipped whenever sex was insinuated and yeah, I did this for years until being untouched felt easier than the thought of being seen did. Now I’m in my thirties and a loser virgin.”
“Shit, I didn’t know this about you. I’m sorry that you feel this way and that you feel this way about yourself. I should have asked, you know, talked to you about it.”
“No, I’m glad you didn’t. I feel like a loser.”
“You’re not a loser. It’s totally valid to start later than others. I just don’t get it. You’re fucking gorgeous. People should be all over you all the time.”
“Oh”, he lowers his head.
“Sorry, insensitive. Trauma from a bad experience? Is that why you feel weird?”
“No, just insecurities. I guess. And, I don’t know, I guess just feeling like I’m gonna be judged for liking it a certain way.”
“How do you like it?”
“I’m a complete sub, but I’m a guy. I don’t know”, he explains rubbing his neck to self-soothe.
“I know it’s probably not gonna help you, but I think that you’re the most handsome man ever. And I like to snack on subby guys like you. Virgins are my favourite.”
“What?” he gasps, finally meeting your eyes. “But you like experienced guys.”
“Yeah, guys who have experiences in life. Someone who is mature and knows what he wants. You know, someone who will build me a home and who wants to take care of it together. Someone who knows what to say when the day is rough because he is empathetic and kind. This kind of experience is sexy. Someone like you is sexy.”
“What do you mean??”
“I have feelings for you. For quite a few years now.”
“Holy fuck.”
“That bad?”
“No, just. Are you serious? I swear to fucking god, if you’re just messing with me, friendship over. I’m in a vulnerable state right now and I can’t take a fucking prank-”
You silence him by kissing him. Yoongi’s knees give up, back colliding with the wall and hands grasping your waist. He is kissing you. Well correction, you are kissing him. But oh my god.
You break the kiss, not because you want to but because you need to. Your hands are on his hips, your eyes undress him slowly. Yoongi suddenly feels eighteen again, lips still tingling from your kiss.
“I’m too fucking grown to mess with your feelings like that”, your voice sounds like heaven to him, “I know what I want and how I feel. You’re the guy of my dreams and the fact that you’re a total sub and a virgin just makes me want you even more. Sorry if this comes off as totally blunt, but this is my truth.”
“Kiss me again. Please”, he begs, head far gone and body burning up.
You give what he wishes for gladly. A kiss. So deep and emotional that it is difficult to handle. You press yourself against him, cornering him against the wall while Yoongi barely manages to keep himself standing. He digs his fingers so deep into your waist that he dimples your softness, his heart never raced like this before.
“Is this good? Do you like this?” you mumble between kisses, hands restless on his squirming body and lips starved for him.
“Good. So good.” He answers you in helpless, totally needy moans, still only grasping your waist because he is star struck.
Just like he confessed, Yoongi kissed women before. And men. But none of the people he kissed felt like you feel. When he kissed them, Yoongi felt in control of himself and as if it was just a simple kiss.
But with you? With you, there is no ounce of control left in him. This is so much more than a kiss. It makes him feel so fucking high.
And needy.
So needy.
The kiss breaks, but Yoongi doesn’t get to breathe. You drag him to bed, throw him atop of it and climb him. His hands are pinned above his head instantly and his thighs finally know the weight of you.
“You have to stop me if I’m too fast”, you tell him.
“Don’t stop.”
You kiss him again. Needier than before. So much sloppier too. Yoongi can barely keep up, soon having to break it just to breathe.
“How do you fucking breathe when you kiss like this?” he asks.
“No idea, I always get dizzy”, you say and giggle, “sorry, I’m way too rough aren’t I? Should we stop? How far do you want me to go?”
“All the way.”
You exhale shakily. Yoongi gulps. It’s out there now. He wants all of it with you. Take the hands of the wheel and shift to the highest gear. Yoongi doesn’t want this to stop.
He gazes at your lips. They are puffy and wet from kissing. He did that, he thinks. He fucking did that and he wants it again.
“Are you sure?” you ask.
“Please.” He licks his lips nervously, which lets you know that he still wants to say something. “I just can’t promise you a good time. I’ll try, but you have to guide me.”
You chuckle, cradling his cheeks to lean down and kiss his lips.
“Just being with you, already means I’m having the best time ever”, you say, tugging on his lower lip playfully.
Yoongi moans, lifting his head to chase the sensation. You give him a playful growl, which totally messes him up, and shove his head back into the pillow. Again, it messes him up. It’s so sexy when you’re rough with him. Yoongi didn’t think that the things he fantasised about would actually feel this good.
“Do you like it when I’m rough with you? You’re moaning so much.”
“I like it so much. You’re so sexy.”
“Mhm Yoongi…I can be even sexier…”
You straighten up, giving him a playful smile as you hook your hands in your dress to take it off.
Yoongi lies, totally frozen, and stares at you as if you were a goddess. His brain can barely comprehend what is happening to him. He might actually develop a headache from mere sensation overload. Is he still daydreaming?
Yoongi gasps and pinches himself.
“Ouch.”
You laugh, lifting your brows in question, “what was that for?” you ask, throwing the dress to the floor.
“Just panicked and needed to check if I’m awake.”
“You’re dumb”, you laugh, leaning down and cradling his cheeks, “this isn’t a dream, silly. Although it feels like one.”
He gulps, gawking at your lips with needy puppy eyes.
“Touch me as I kiss you”, you say and claim his lips.
Yoongi shudders, squeezing his eyes shut and slamming his hands on your body with such passion that you gasp. You giggle, biting his lower lip.
“Sorry.”
“You’re good, fuck so sexy.”
You kiss him with tongue for what he did and Yoongi is a goner. He tries to figure out your rhythm, resulting in your kiss to be so much needier than you planned it to be. Not that you mind. Kissing Yoongi is a dream come true. You always knew that kissing his lips would be a different experience. They are so perfect. So pouty and soft and so goddamn pretty. Sometimes when he talked to you, all you could do was stare at his lips and daydream about how it would be to kiss him.
And now you are kissing him and it is better than any daydream ever made it out to be. Your heart is racing so much, your skin is twice as sensitive to touch and your pussy has never wanted to have cock more than she does tonight.
Yoongi is currently stuck in his own life-altering experience. He is touching you. The thing he fantasised about is actually happening and you are so much softer than you were in his imagination. Your skin is like the finest silk he ever touched. Warm and tender and soft. So soft. Yoongi thought that he would be obsessed with the spots where your underwear digs into you, but he was wrong. Your waist and back feel so good to touch. They fit under his palm as if his hands were made to hold you.
Yoongi doesn’t know just how tightly he can hold you, but he has to try. Just once. One squeeze. Strong.
“Yoongi, fuck”, you breathe, abandoning his lips to kiss a messy path to his neck.
“Oh woah”, he lets out, gasping for air afterwards. He shivers, squirming under you.
“Are you okay?”
“Yeah…don’t stop, please.”
“I can’t stop. You smell so good and taste, mhm, your taste…” you trail off, dragging your tongue down his neck until you reach the collar of his shirt.
Yoongi realises quite a lot about himself right in this moment. He realises that the reason why he felt so weird about being naked was because he was never really turned on correctly. Because right now, he curses the existence of his fucking shirt.
“Wait.”
“Sorry, too far?”
You straighten up in sync with him sitting up. Your air catches in your throat as you watch him take off his shirt.
“You don’t have to if you feel weird about it”, you say.
“I want it”, he says and throws the shirt on the floor. He drops back in the pillow, gazing up at you submissively and so ready to be devoured.
Your heart might jump out of your throat if this keeps going. He is so beautiful. His skin is fair and his nipples are dark in contrast. They are so perky, currently hard and swollen from the cool air. His tummy is soft in contrast to his pecs and under his pretty belly button, a faint happy trail disappears in his boxers.
You have never felt more attracted to a person than you do right now.
“I’m fucking serious when I say this. You are fucking gorgeous, holy fuck.”
“You think?”
“I do. Fuck, I can’t believe that you’re real. It’s insane.”
Yoongi squirms, heart doing somersaults in his chest. It basically goes crazy when you reach behind yourself to unhook your bra.
“Oh my god”, he whispers, ogling your breasts.
“Thought we could match.”
“Oh my god”, he insists and flutters his lashes.
“First pair of tits?”
“In real life, yeah. Oh my god, you’re beautiful. What the fuck?”
You chuckle. He is so cute when he curses.
“Can I touch them?” he asks.
“Yes.”
Yoongi sits up. The sparks between you and him are electric. You look so deeply into each other’s eyes, sharing air and the same pulse. You give him a little playful smirk, flustering him.
Yoongi lowers his eyes, studying your chest. He lifts his hands to it, placing them over your breasts.
You sigh softly, leaning into his touch.
Yoongi exhales, blinking away the emotion in his eyes.
He can feel your heart like this. It is racing. He can’t explain why this affects him the most, but it does.
He lifts his eyes, whispering your name.
“Yeah? Is this good?”
He gives you his answer by kissing you. He moans with you and while you make a sound because he surprised you, he makes it because he could feel your heart skip a beat and then speed up. And this is turning him on more than anything else.
He squeezes your soft breasts instinctively, feeling tingly when you moan and kiss him deeper in reaction. So he does it again. And again. And fucking again. Until he made up a rhythm and you roll your hips on his lap in a needy rhythm. Your arms are hooked behind his head, your fingers are playing with his hair.
Yoongi brushes his thumbs over your nipples, learning first hand what this does to you.
“Shit, this feels so good”, you sigh into the kiss, running your fingers down the nape of his neck so you can dance them up to his scalp again and grab more of his soft hair.
It feels so good to him too and so he does it again. And again. And again. And again until he made up a rhythm and your panties start to feel soaked against his thigh. He wasn’t born yesterday, so he knows that this is a good sign. He gets you wet. It’s insane to him, turning his brain into liquid.
“Yoongi, this is…” you trail off, hugging him close in a shiver of your body. His hands sadly have to slip to your back like this, but it doesn’t matter.
He feels your breasts squish against him and this is otherworldly to feel.
Yoongi is seriously so far gone. All that he currently exists for is the intimacy you and he share. He has never been as focused on anything as he is right now on what you and he are doing.
You slide your hands to his hair and push with your chest. Yoongi falls. The kiss breaks, but the connection between your souls is still there. He gazes up at you through his slightly tilted glasses, having no idea how he should ever be normal again when he knows how you feel.
“One last chance. I’m serious, once you give me the go, I will fall over you like I’m a vampire and you’re blood”, you tell him, fucking him slowly with your hungry eyes.
He laughs. You laugh as well. The connection only grows. Fuck, you’ve never been more turned on than you are right now laughing with your best friend because you are both having a good time.
“Please be a vampire”, he allows you, readying himself for what was to come.
“Fuck, I’m gonna eat you”, you growl and fall over him just like you warned him that you would. “Lie back and enjoy, baby. This is about you now.”
Yoongi has to very quickly learn what he agreed on getting done to him is a lot harder to handle than he thought it would be. Your hands and mouth are restless and hungry. Touching and kissing and biting him everywhere. And the licking. Jesus fucking christ, there is so much licking happening that Yoongi soon starts writhing and squirming because it feels so fucking good.
“You’re so sexy. Holy fuck, your body. Yoongi, I’m obsessed. You’re so handsome”, you are babbling between your feast, driving away any kind of insecurity he could ever feel.
And as you praise him constantly, you help him learn a lot about his own body. His collarbones are nice to be sucked hickeys on to. It feels really tingly when you run your fingers up and down his sides. His tummy is insanely sensitive to the point where he needs to squirm. And his nipples. Fucking hell, his nipples. Yoongi didn’t think that arching his back was possible but then you swirl your tongue over his perky nipple and follow it up with a bite, Yoongi is a goner.
“How’s it for you, handsome?”
“Good”, he mewls.
“Good. It’s good. Baby, I’m so obsessed with you. Holy fuck”, you rasp and do the sexiest thing of dragging your wet tongue all the way down to the hem of his boxers.
Yoongi has never felt more desirable and at the same time ruined than he does right now.
Only lied out and devoured like this, does he realise that he is still in only his briefs. And that they are fighting against the second boner of tonight. It aches so much more than the first one. Quite frankly, Yoongi has never felt so much pain between his legs than he does right now as he is being explored by you.
“Please”, he begs, which he didn’t even know that he could do.
“Want me to take care of it?”
“Yes”, he mewls, writhing from side to side and rubbing his legs together. This was the sexiest thing he was ever asked. Yoongi doesn’t recognise himself anymore. What is happening to him and why doesn’t he want it to stop?
“I’m going insane, I mean it”, you confess, hooking your fingers in his soaked briefs. You take them off completely, throwing them on the floor.
The next moment is spend in star struck silence as you stare at his cock.
He has the most perfect cock you have ever seen. Listen, you saw your fair share of dicks in your life and you can say with complete honesty, that Yoongi’s is the sexiest cock ever. His tip is flushed and his shaft curves slightly. The sexiest part, however, are the prominent veins spanning all over his cock. Of course someone with his hands would have a veiny dick. If this continues, you might start barking.
“___?”
You lift your eyes at his shy whisper, “yeah?”
“Can we turn off the lights?”
“Oh”, you realise, “totally! I’m so sorry for staring. I just haven’t seen such a sexy cock before. I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable”, you explain yourself, reaching over to the light switch.
“Wait.”
“Yeah?”
“You really think that I’m sexy?”
“Yes, I’m serious. You have the kind of dick you only see in fanart. You know, the really sexy fanart on Patreon I pay for.”
Yoongi instantly understands what you mean. Sometimes you showed it to him because he asked under the pretence that he was just interested in art, while he secretly used these moments to make a picture of what you like. In his head, the dicks in these drawings were so much sexier than his dick could ever be, but if you seriously think that his dick looks like those dicks, Yoongi has won in fucking life.
“Keep the lights on”, he says.
“You mean it?”
“Yeah, keep them on. I”, he giggles, hiding behind his hands, “shut up, I look like this?”
You snicker, “mhm, you do. You sexy beast.”
“Shut up.”
You tug his hands away, pinning them above his head as you hold them. You look at him as if he was your everything, raising his pulse.
“I’m so into you”, you whisper.
“Please”, he begs, chasing your kiss.
You give it to him gladly, kissing him until air is sparse. And only then, you begin your next journey. Down to his aching cock, for which you feel so starved that it hurts. You use your fingers to paint a path for your tongue, leaving out his cock when you reach him to lick his inner thighs instead.
Yoongi twists the sheets. He didn’t know that this was a real thing. Sometimes when he lost himself in a good fanfiction and it talked about people twisting the sheets in pleasure, he always thought that this was the creative choice of the author. Nope. This actually happens and Yoongi has no control over it.
He twists the sheets and seconds later, tugs on them as you sink him into your warm mouth.
“What the actual fuck?” he gasps out, sitting up slightly.
You purr around him, shoving him down with your hand on his chest.
Yoongi drops in the sheets, arching his back. There you are again, being a little rough with him. Yoongi gasps for air as if he has never breathed before, cock throbbing in your mouth.
You sink him in completely, moaning around him. He is the perfect size for your mouth. Oh you love his cock. You swallow around him, purring in pleasure.
Yoongi shakes, throwing his hands over his eyes which results in his glasses to fall off messily.
“Stop. I’m gonna cum.”
You slip off of him, almost setting him off. His hips twitch, following your mouth.
“So sensitive”, you coo, swirling your tongue over his cockhead while your fingers jerk off his length.
“Please. What the fuck. This feels so good. Stop, I have to- ah!”
“Mhhm, what a pretty cock you have and so sensitive”, you purr, giving it kisses.
One. Two. Three. Four because you love him. Five because he is so sweet. Six because he twitches so perfectly. Seven and then you sink him in again.
You keep your tongue pressed against him, relaxing your lips so they would move around him as you fuck your face with him. Your right hand is playing with his dainty nipples, while your left is rubbing the base of his cock.
“Please stop, I’m gonna-”, he can’t finish his sentence because you make him moan oh so easily.
You understand him nonetheless, slipping off his dick to talk. You switch nipples and slide your left hand to his balls.
“Please…stop”, he gets out, totally out of breath and quaky.
“You really wanna stop?”
“No, but. But. Ah. But I have to…oh god, I have to fucking cum”, he presses out, tensing his neck and putting his hand over your hand to squeeze it. His palm is sweaty and warm. This is so sexy to feel.
“Cum in my mouth, baby. I like it”, you encourage him, slipping him back inside to suck on his pretty cock. Vigorously if one may add, to the point where your cheeks fall in and Yoongi feels as if you are sucking the soul out of him.
“Ah! A-ah…” He grabs your head with his other hand, hips twitching uncontrollably. “Please, fucking shit, ah! Please, ___, please.”
You knew that he wouldn’t last long, but this wasn’t the goal. You want tonight to be fucking perfect and if this means that he orgasms in your mouth prematurely, then so be it. This is so sexy to you. It’s honestly everything you wanted for years. You thought about him like this in your most sinful nights, imagining the taste of him. And now you are greedy and want him as quickly as possible.
He tastes so much fucking sweeter than he did in your imagination, dulling your senses to nothing but him.
“Ah please. A-ah, oh god. Oh god.”
You slurp and moan as you suck him off, pushing Yoongi into the kind of high which nothing will ever be able to recreate. Orgasms from a mouth just hit differently. They are so much warmer and leave one’s legs just so fucking wobbly.
And Yoongi currently experiences the first ever high like this, twisting your hair and cursing in a broken voice. You can also hear glimpses of your name, but they’re oh so broken in pleasure.
You swear that you actually came with him. Holy shit, he sounds so sexy when he orgasms. For just a second, one must think about his voice and then imagine it when a high shakes his body. Yes, exactly, the lethalness of him is out of this world.
Just like he did for his first orgasm, he comes down with a growl and gritted teeth, dropping into the sheets. He pushes you off, covering himself and fighting for air.
“Oh my god. Ahm. Oh god. Ah.”
You help him through it, kissing your way up to his lips. You made sure to swallow all of him before you kiss him.
“Good job, babyboy.”
Droopy but with more confidence, Yoongi cups your cheek, kissing you back. He is a lot noisier, purring constantly. He even gives your lower lip a tug before ending the kiss.
“What the fuck”, he purrs tiredly, gazing at you. His cheeks are so flushed, his eyes are slightly glassy. He looks so happy. Shocked, but happy.
“First ever head?” you whisper your question, tracing his pecs. Your leg is swung over one of his thighs, knee resting between them.
“Yeah.”
You scrunch your nose, “I can assume that you liked it?”
“So much, you have no idea”, he says and licks his lips.
“You wanna say something?”
“I’m sorry for nutting so soon. I swear, this was really overwhelming for me.”
“It’s okay. I knew you wouldn’t last long. I rarely last long during head. It’s really sexy to me.”
“You like it too?” he croaks out, lifting the inner corners of his brows submissively.
“Yeah, but I rarely got it.”
Yoongi doesn’t like to hear this. Now that he knows how good it feels, he feels enraged thinking that such sensations are a rare thing for you. Someone like you should be adored this way constantly. The fucking moment you first kissed him, all he wanted was to make you feel good too. How on earth could other guys not feel the same?
“What’s with the angry face?” you ask him.
“It’s just…you should have felt it a lot.”
“You’re so sweet. I guess I just have trash exes.”
“You do. I never liked any of them”, he confesses, making you chuckle. He licks his lips, “can I?”
“Eat me out?”
“Yeah. Please.”
“Yes, oh my god.”
You and he switch places, kissing as you do. He is between your legs, hands on your body and skin melting with yours.
He is the one to break the kiss, gazing at you. Your heart flutters because of him.
“If I do something weird or wrong, tell me please.”
“Yes, I-”
He interrupts you before you can continue by connecting his puffy lips with your neck. His fingers paint paths and swirls, his lips trace them. He even sucks on some spots, flicking his tongue over your skin just like you did to him.
“Yoongi…wow….”
“You smell so good”, he whispers and purrs, rubbing his nose down your neck to your collarbones. “And you’re so soft”, he adds, following it with a small hickey on your left collarbone. And your right one. He doesn’t want it to feel left out.
“When I put your necklace on, I wanted to do this to you”, he confesses, totally sending you down a spiral because...
“What the hell? This is what you were thinking? Oh my god, Yoongi…aaah”, you moan, squirming.
“You’re beautiful”, he rasps and continues his path down to your chest.
He is going to take his time. Just like you did when you explored him. He is going to kiss you, bite the soft spots and lick the tender areas.
Yoongi might have started this evening as an inexperienced idiot, but he will be damned if he lets his inexperience stop him from loving you right. He fantasised about what he would do to you so many times that he has to be an expert at them now that it finally happens. And judging by how much you sigh and moan and squirm, he is doing a good job.
He kisses you, feels you up and uses his mouth on your nipples. He knows that this feels good. You moan because of it, chasing the touches.
For just a second he slips off, trying to dirty talk even if his heart is hammering in his chest.
“You have the prettiest tits. They’re perfect.”
You sigh and arch your back to chase his lips in reaction. Yoongi takes your nipple back inside, closing his eyes. Perhaps he isn’t that bad at dirty talk. You seem to really like it.
Yoongi feels confident in continuing. He explores your tummy and waist, wanting to make you feel so good.
He wasn’t born yesterday. He’s grown enough to know that if it feels good for him, it also feels good for you. So he tries to mimic what you did to him and hopes that it feels good to you. He just doesn’t know how good it actually feels until you break the silence with a curse. He was in such a trance, mind completely focused on you, so hearing you curse feels like a slap to the face.
He is between your legs by now, having nuzzled your inner thighs before. He looks up at you, frozen in panic. Did he do something wrong?
“This is fucking insane, I’m so horny”, you confess and chuckle, “fuck, just lick me.”
Yoongi’s cock tingles. As does his stomach. So you liked it. A lot.
“Do you want it over your panties? Uhm, they’re so pretty”, he asks shyly.
“Thanks, they’re lace.”
“I know. The lacy kind. I like them.”
You meet his eyes. He is shy, but courageous at the same time.
“You say the sexiest stuff. No panties, want you raw”, you say and lift your butt so you can take off your underwear. You lift your legs too, keeping them in the air when you throw the panties to the side.
“Wow, this is…wow”, Yoongi whispers, staring without shame. His mouth is agape, his eyes are widened.
“Come closer, baby.”
“Okay. Like this?”
“Yes, like this.”
Yoongi almost passes out when you put your legs over his shoulders and writhe sensually. This is so hot.
He looks up at you, deep into the sultry eyes you give him.
“You look so good with my legs on your shoulders, handsome”, you coo.
Yoongi snorts a chuckle in coyness, lowering his eyes because he possibly couldn’t look at your eyes anymore. You snicker, enjoying his flustered reaction with a racing heart.
“Whenever you’re ready.”
Yoongi doesn’t need to be told twice. He wraps his arms around your thighs and goes down on you, gazing up at you as he does. He needs to see if you like it. You gasp, thighs tensing under his fingers.
Yoongi needs nothing more than the first lick to already be obsessed, moaning into you.
“You taste so good. What the fuck, I missed out big times”, he says and buries himself in you again.
He looks for the good spot with slow flicks of his tongue, making it feel incredible for you without even trying.
“Is nice, baby”, you sigh.
But he thinks that he could do better. Yoongi knows from fanfiction that women can arch their backs from getting ate and you aren’t arching it yet.
He lifts his mouth, gazing at your pussy. He needs to study you, make out where to focus on. His hands rub your inner thighs as he memories the view of you.
“What’s the matter?” you sound desperate.
“Where do you like it most?”
“Oh. Oh wow, this is sexy. I guess I like it here a lot. You know what a clit is, right?” you show it to him.
“I do. Yours is so pretty”, he whispers, drooling.
You mewl and drop in the pillow, “fucking hell, I’m so horny.”
“Same”, Yoongi confesses in the sexiest rasp ever and buries himself back in you. He took a glimpse and thinks that he knows the spot now. He swirls his tongue, waiting for your reaction.
You writhe, rubbing your feet over his back as your legs move with you. A small moan escapes you.
Better. He can do better. Yoongi fixes his tongue. He feels the difference first and sees the effect it has on you second.
You arch your back, twisting the sheets and curling your toes.
“There. What the fuck, ahmm.”
Yoongi feels euphoric. He closes his hands around your waist and presses his tongue closer. He swirls and flicks it, moaning each time you moan and squeezing your waist whenever you writhe.
“Okay. Woah. Ah. Wow. What the fuck? Yoongi, holy fuck”, you get out, genuinely losing it.
The way he goes down on you feels so good that you completely forget that he never did this before. Of course he is a natural. Someone with his pretty mouth and witty tongue has to be good at oral.
“Serious, Yoongi”, you grasp a bundle of his hair, “I’m already close. A-ah…”
Yoongi fucks the sheets, pulling you against his face until your butt is off the sheets. Your legs hook behind his head tightly, he purrs and grasps your hips, moving them for you so you are grinding on his face.
This isn’t like him at all. This can’t be your shy, nerdy best friend. A demon must have replaced him. You lift your head with the little strength you have left, croaking his name.
This is actually him. Yoongi is between your legs, Yoongi is the one who grinds your hips on his face. This is actually him. Yoongi might genuinely go a little feral when he has your pussy on his tongue. She has him acting up. The realisation shoots shakes through your body.
“I can’t. Baby, fucking hell”, you moan, dropping into the pillow again.
Yoongi purrs into you, taking your clit between his lips to suck on her. He ends it by grinding his tongue against her, purring so deeply.
“Holy fuck. Urgh, Yoongi”, you get out, tugging on the sheets and trembling.
Yoongi feels high. He is so eager to get you over the edge. So eager in fact that he starts using his entire mouth for it. Tongue and lips and messy saliva. And of course, he does everything right with it.
He throws you over the edge just like this. Tongue kissing your pussy and using his strength to help you get there easier. He surprises himself as well with how hard it hits you.
“Yoongi!”
He looks up at you in shock. Is he doing This? Is he responsible for the pretty face you are making and the tremors of your body? Yoongi curls his tongue against your throbbing clit, making you moan loudly and writhe. Fuck, he is the one doing this to you.
Yoongi fucks the mattress harshly, speeding up his tongue which results in you to wail up and tug on his hair.
“Yoongi! Ah, Yoongi!”
His name from your mouth. Yoongi feels delirious. This is so hot. He needs more of you. More. He sucks on your clit, totally lost to you.
“Sensitive! Baby, slow down!”
Yoongi can’t hear you, purring around you despite how much he overstimulates.
“Yoongi…baby…slow urgh fuck.”
It takes you quite a lot of strength to actually wrestle him off of you. And he doesn’t let go without complaint. He mewls in distaste, soothing himself by sucking on your inner thighs instead. His grip on you is strong. Which is turning you on so much. Of course someone with his hands has strength in them.
You drop with a groan, squirming from side to side as you try to recover from one of your best highs ever. And it’s by none other than your shy best friend. With surprisingly strong hands. And a really fast tongue. You might not leave this night sane.
“You’re insane.”
Yoongi only stares for a moment before the unbearable desire to kiss you overcomes him. He starts at your tender inner thighs and kisses his way up to your lips eagerly.
He reaches your lips feeling droopy and totally devoted to you. You kiss him back eagerly, playing with his hair. But you don’t get to taste him for long, pulling him back to talk.
“What the fuck was this?” you ask, staring at his puffy, pink lips. They’re still glistening from what he did.
“Why? Was it bad?”
“Uhm, no? Hello? You just made me shake, what the hell?”
Yoongi blushes, looking to the side.
“I just did what I thought would feel good for you”, he mumbles with a pout.
“I can tell you that you did everything right. I’m done for.”
“Really?”
“Yeah, this was it for me.”
Yoongi feels equal parts proud and angry. He made you feel so good, but it was to such a level that you don’t want more.
“What’s with the pout?” you ask him.
“No, it’s nothing.”
You snicker, “you want more, don’t you?”
“Not if you don’t want to.”
“Lie down.”
Yoongi obeys, shivering when you cuddle into his side and begin tracing his torso.
“I’m not done with you either. Don’t you worry. Just need a quick breather.”
He blushes, looking to the side. He is so cute and you are still so droopy from the high he gave you that you end up giggling and stubbing his flushed cheek with your nose. You nuzzle against him afterwards.
“You’re so cute”, you gush.
Yoongi accepts it silently, feeling too flustered to come up with anything. His heart is beating uncontrollably. Naked cuddling is everything. Being called cute comes close second. A kiss on the cheek is third.
“Are you really sure about more?” you ask him.
“Yes”, he nods his head vigorously, but falters as a question runs through him, “are you?”
“Yes I am. Just want to make sure that you’re still comfy. My first time was kinda traumatic, yeah. Don’t wanna do the same thing to you.”
“What? Who was the bastard?” Yoongi asks, furrowing his brows.
“I’m good, god I’m good. It’s been years and I’m over it. God, you’re so cute”, you gush, having to kiss him for being so perfect.
Yoongi is tense at first but relaxes very soon. He melts in your hands, rolling to the side to wrap his arms around you and kiss you deeper. With tongue. It’s perfect. Everything about him is perfect.
It isn’t long and you are both so turned on that you are out of breath as you break the kiss.
“I think I saw condoms in the bedside table”, you say.
“I’ll check”, Yoongi says and flips over.
You use the opportunity to place kisses on his back and shoulder. And Yoongi is done for. He manages just enough to get a condom but then melts into you, eyes closed and butt wiggling against you. All his mind thinks about is last year when you accidentally spooned him and he had to touch himself because of it.
And now he is here. Naked and hot in your arms while you kiss his neck and rub his nipples.
“Please”, he sighs, placing his hand over yours, “please take me, I can’t handle this anymore.”
“Fuck, you say the sexiest stuff”, you rasp and press yourself closer, “condom?”
He shows it to you.
“Yes, thank god. Imagine if there were none and we’d have had to stop because of it.”
“Don’t make me think of that”, he cranes his neck, gazing up at you with the most submissive and devoted eyes ever. “I don’t want this to stop. Not ever”, he whispers.
“Wow you”, you get out. You have to cradle his cheek and rest your forehead against his, rubbing noses together because the intimacy asks for it. “Me neither. This is so sexy, but also feels like everything I ever wanted.”
“Yeah.” He sighs his words. “Just wanna be with you.”
“Then put it on and let me have you, Yoongi baby. Please, I’ll lose my mind otherwise.”
“Yes, okay.”
He wiggles out of your hug and sits up. You sit back, watching him work.
“You know how to do this, don’t you? You have to make sure to pinch the tip of the condom.”
“I know, I’m not a total noob. I did the thing with my tongue and made you cum, remember?” he teases.
He flusters you a little. He can be so sexy with his wit if only he wants to.
“Shut up, you. How could I forget?” you mumble and nudge his arm.
Yoongi smirks lazily, giving you sexy eyes.
You squeeze his arm, “hurry up, I’m serious.”
“Right. Sorry.”
The condom is put on soon after and you can get back to kissing him. You climb his lap, playing with his hair and grinding your pussy against his cock.
Yoongi has to break the kiss because of it.
“Don’t do this.”
“Not a fan?”
“No. Yes! I like it, but I wanna be inside you. Not cum like this.”
“You’re sensitive again, mhm?”
Yoongi pouts, earning himself a kiss and a chuckle.
“You’re so cute.” You kiss his nose. “How do you want it? I could ride you or I could be on my back? Or do you want to slip inside from behind, mhm?”
“The first one sounds good”, Yoongi squeaks out, gulping. The options you listed are so sexy to think about. He feels droopy.
“Okay, then we’ll do it like this. Are you ready?”
“I’m ready”, he whispers, gazing into your eyes like a love drunk puppy.
“Put your hands on my waist.”
He obeys because it comes natural to him to obey you. You lift your hips and shimmy into the right position. He looks up at you. His heart races so much. He is so ready.
You sink him in.
Yoongi widens his eyes and squeezes your waist. A whimper leaves him against his will.
“Slipped right in, baby. How’s it for you?” you talk to him while you sink down.
Better than anything. Life changing. Unlike anything he could have imagined. The best thing ever. So warm. And soft. So fucking warm. Yoongi has no idea how it is for him because he is currently overwhelmed by it.
“A lot”, he gets out, tensing his thighs under you. He can barely keep his eyes open, feeling dizzy.
“Try focusing on me, baby. Breathe.”
Yoongi takes the shakiest and quickest breaths ever, fluttering his pretty lashes at you. You cradle his face with both hands, rocking back and forth as you take him in.
“You’re doing so well, baby. Keep breathing, that’s it.”
Yoongi always thought of himself to be someone independent, someone who doesn’t need to be babied and pampered. But to be honest? Being held like this and talked to in such a caring way feels really fucking good. Like, really fucking good.
He bottoms out and you waste no time, picking up the most lethal rhythm you learned. You swirl your hips, bouncing up and down on him as you do. And Yoongi is a goner. He squeezes his eyes shut, scrunching his nose. He gets out half of your name then only manages to create little sounds. Gasps and mewls and even a few whimpers. And he doesn’t even feel embarrassed about it because you hold his face in such a comforting way, which in return makes him feel so goddamn needy for pampering.
“Pretty, you’re so pretty. And you feel so good, baby. You’ve got the best cock.”
“Be quiet, please”, he croaks, voice slightly pitched and so shaky.
You chuckle, “you’re not into dirty talk?” you ask, knowing very well that this wasn’t the reason why he told you to shut it.
“Please, don’t tease me”, he instantly figures you out, leaning into your touch because it’s so difficult to keep his head held high. He even pouts, cheeks squishing as they melt into your palms.
“I can’t help it, you are so easy to tease”, you whisper and shove him down into the pillow.
“Ah, wait.”
“You okay?”
Yoongi reaches behind his own head, pulling out his glasses. He checks them.
“Okay, they’re good. I laid down on my glasses”, he says and puts them on, “now I see you in 4K again.”
You snicker, “you’re a dork”, you lean down and kiss his cheek, “and you’re so much fun to ride”, you add in a sweet coo, clenching down on him to really get the point across.
Yoongi twists the edge of the pillow and throws his head back, mouth agape and throat producing the sweetest moans. You give his nose and chin a kiss each, then sit up to show him how much better it can feel. You put your hands on his chest, playing with his perky nipples as you pick up speed.
“Wait. Slow. Please”, he begs, mewling each time you bury him deep inside you. His body is trembling so much and he feels so much pressure in his stomach. It is so deep and hot, spreading down his legs as well. He is repeating himself here, but this just feel so fucking good.
“You’re so sensitive”, you tease, slowing down for his sake. You keep him buried deep inside, swirling your hips back and forth while you rub your hands up and down his chest.
He looks up at you, lids heavy and cheeks flushed. His hair is hanging into his face messily, his fingers squeeze your hips.
“I can’t help it”, he breathes out, gasping for air afterwards.
“But you like it, don’t you?” you are teasing him, which Yoongi instantly figures out.
“Please”, he squeezes your hips in warning, “don’t tease me right now.”
You chuckle, bending down to mouth at his jawline, fingers playing with his hair.
“Sorry, you’re so fun to tease, baby”, you rasp and tug on his earlobe with your teeth.
Yoongi mewls, bucking his hips up involuntarily. It knocks a moan out of you, which you let him feel against his ear. Of course it drives Yoongi crazy. Why shouldn’t it? He bucks his hips up again, melting into a mess when you moan in reaction. One more time.
“Fucking shit”, he gets out, rolling his head to the side you are at, claiming your lips in a messy kiss. He even cradles the back of your head for it, holding your waist with his other hand as he rolls his hips up. It’s intense like this, but manageable. He can control the speed like this and he has to concentrate on moving, which means his brain isn’t solely zoned in on the hot tingles.
It’s also fucking ecstatic how much this makes you moan. Yoongi gets so high from it, breaking the kiss to whisper against your lips.
“Your pussy’s heaven.”
You shiver, twirling his hair.
“You know that if you talk like this and – ah – fuck like this, I wanna ruin you?”
“Do your worst then”, he challenges, which thinking back, was a very stupid idea.
You give him a dirty smirk and sit up.
“Right thumb on my clit. Now.”
Yoongi obeys.
“Good. Play with it”, you order and lift your hips only to slam them down as you begin your punishing rhythm.
Yoongi thought that he could do as he was told. Nope. His thumb stays unmoving because his brain stops working as you increase the pleasure by a hundred. He shouldn’t have challenged you. What a stupid fucking thing he did. He is going to climax. It’s too intense.
“Slow. Please slow, I don’t wanna cum already please.”
“Nah, you wanted it, so bear it.”
“Fuck, urgh, fuck ___.” he growls, scrunching his face.
“I know, baby, I know. Just keep breathing”, you coo, arching your back so you can dance your hips on him. It feels fucking incredible to you because his cock hits the best spots and his thumb is perfect to grind on.
“I was wrong, I can’t cum yet. Please.”
“But Yoongi, I love when you cum”, you taunt, smiling wickedly.
Yoongi whimpers, arching his back helplessly. There is no way in hell that he can last any longer. You fucking ruin him.
“Please, I really can’t hold it anymore”, he tries again, grasping your waist to the point where he bruises you accidentally.
“Then don’t, baby. Be my good boy and cum for me.”
Yoongi always fantasized about how it would be to have you order him to climax. This fantasy helped him over the edge so many times in the past. And now it’s actually happening and it sounds so much sexier than he could have ever imagined.
Yoongi orgasms with a moan of your name, throwing his hand over his face and twisting his own hair this way. His thumb stutters on your clit as he uses what last strength he has left to keep it there.
“Oh my god, how do you look so sexy when you cum? Fuck Yoongi, you’re making me cum too”, you confess, tightening around him as your own high hits you. Being with him was enough to get you there.
He comes down first, mewling as you ride out your high and therefore overstimulate his poor cock. When you finally come down as well, Yoongi swears that he is one second away from crying, glasses dirty from pressing his arm against it.
“Oh god, baby”, you whisper shakily, dropping on top of him, “baby. Yoongi baby, oh my god”, you babble, cradling his face as you kiss every single inch of it. “Baby, oh my baby. You were amazing, oh baby just come here, you.”
Yoongi feels so good. Yes, what old news, but fuck he feels so good. Is it actually humanly possible to feel so goddamn satisfied and loved and giddy? Because he thinks that he might be doing something inhuman right now with how fuzzy he feels.
“How are you? Are you okay?”
“M’kay”, he gets out, nodding his head.
“Yeah? You’re okay? Was it good for you?”
“Yeah. But so short…I’m sorry.”
“Don’t worry about it. It was your first time. It’s allowed to be short. Besides, you held out longer than some others. You even thrusted your hips for a little.”
“I guess. I’m…really tired”, he confesses and exhales deeply, rolling his head to the side to stub your palm with his nose. He kisses it next, smiling in such a giddy and pretty way.
Then he giggles, peeling his droopy eyes open to gaze up at you. You scrunch your nose, giggling with him.
“Did we really do this?” he asks.
“We did.”
“Oh god”, he lets out and giggles even harder.
“I know”, you agree, snuggling into him.
He hugs you, rolling to the side so he could really snuggle into you. His dick slips out of you this way, but this is okay because you are hugging and it’s so nice.
It takes you a while to calm down from your giddy giggles and once you do, you are facing each other, sharing air and gazing into each other’s eyes. He is dancing his fingertips up and down your back, while you dance them over his features. His glasses sit on his face weirdly because of the pillow.
He takes them off, snuggling deeper into the pillow afterwards.
“They were annoying.”
“I can imagine.”
That the sex was out of the world is written on both your faces. The silence you share is so familiar, but a hundred times more intimate than it was in the past.
“Does it always feel like this?” he whispers.
“So good?”
“Yeah. I feel fucking amazing. Does it always feel this way?”
“Not with everyone, rarely, I don’t know. It felt like this with you.”
Yoongi’s eyes fill with emotion. He takes a deep breath and exhales, cupping your cheek. You lean into the touch, lowering your lids halfway. You still get butterflies when he touches you like this. He is so gentle with it.
“What are we now?” he asks.
“Can I be honest?”
“Please.”
“If-”
“Actually, if it’s something bad. Can I get dressed first? I don’t wanna get my heart broken naked” he interrupts you.
You chuckle, “can I finish?”
“Yeah. Sorry.”
“It’s okay. What I wanted to say was. If we are anything other than boyfriend and girlfriend, I will actually cry. I secretly yearned for you for years.”
“I’m so glad that you said this”, he confesses and blushes.
“You are?”
“Yeah. I feel the same”, he says and meets your eyes.
You squeak, having to giggle afterwards because you are so goddamn giddy. Yoongi giggles with you, kissing you back eagerly when you smooch him. And smooch him. And smooch him again.
“Oh my god, Yoongi baby. You’re my boyfie now?”
“Yeah, I’m your boyfie”, he says in a cute way, heart dancing in his chest. “Can I tell people that I’m your boyfie?”
“Of course, oh wow, you’re making my heart burst.” You start babbling which you always do when you’re happy. “Okay, but I need to take you out on a date tomorrow, I’m serious. A real date. Breakfast. The biggest breakfast ever because the restaurant was already closed tonight.”
“What? You didn’t even get dinner?”
“It’s alright. I snacked on you, didn’t I?” you tease, wiggling your brows.
Yoongi looks away, blushing vividly, “shut up, this isn’t funny”, he mumbles, pouting.
You laugh, “I think it is hilarious actually.”
He meets your eyes fondly, squeezing your waist gently.
“Whatever.”
You smile and run your fingers down his temple. Yoongi lowers his lids in relaxation.
“What’s gonna happen to us now?” he asks.
“Right now? We should clean up and pee to prevent UTIs and then we could cuddle.”
“No I mean. For the rest of this trip?”
“Are you trying to figure out if I could be down for more sex?”
He blushes, “maybe?”
You snicker and push him onto his back. You put your arm over his chest, holding his hand above his head. Yoongi looks so happy to be where he is.
“I’d be so down for more”, you tell him, smiling prettily.
“Really?”
“Mhm.”
“Me too. I’m so down”, Yoongi confesses, adding with a blush, “I think I might be obsessed, actually.”
You chuckle fondly and kiss him, knowing that from now on, life will be so much better.
𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐛𝐢𝐠 𝐞𝐧𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡? | 𝐌𝐘𝐆 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐃𝐔𝐂𝐄𝐑 𝐀𝐔 (𝐌)
pairings: producer!min yoongi x popgirlie f!reader
genre: romance, smut, slight porn with plot, friends to lovers au
word count: 6K
beta read by @chaoticpuff17 (ily)
prompt: "There is just no way you two did not fuck each other's brains out."
summary: "You Big Enough?" - when an old flame resurfaced, rumours spiralled, and suddenly, every lingering glance and every touch between you seemed to carry weight. It had always been just music, just friendship—hadn’t it? No. You always had the vibe of 'will they, won't they.' This has become bigger than the music. Tension crackled, boundaries blurred, and there was this thing that Yoongi made sure you knew well besides that he was big enough. "They just talk. I fucking deliver."
warnings: minors dni 18+ | sexual tension, explicit language, themes of subtle (and not-so-subtle) possessiveness, teasing, sexual activity, rough sex, fingering (f receiving), miscommunication driving emotional conflict, dirty talk, raw fucking (stay safe!) choking and spanking as part of intimate scenes, creampie, fleeting nipple play, very subtle dominance/submission dynamics, implied size kink ... (as per usual, I'll add some if needed)
disclaimer: this story is purely fictional, it does not depict real-life events or involve any actual members of BTS. This story will contain strong language, explicit content, obsessive behaviour, sexual activity, sex without protection, choking and spanking as part of intimate scenes.
a/n: yall, I had this idea like a month ago and I wrote the initial part but lowkey forgot that it's in my drafts so I finished it yesterday (might come later to edit, pls excuse me im working overtime these days) and amazing and spectacular @chaoticpuff17 managed to read it so you can have it as a lil Valentine's day treat. So here is something simple, smutty, and cute for ya. Happy Valentine to all of you who celebrate, love you my little fairies! ♥
masterlist
Your hands hovered above the keys and your brain could not figure out what to press to make it sound as magical as you want. Your mind searched for the perfect melody for the bridge of her latest song—
"Try F-sharp minor," Yoongi suggested, his voice low and even. The studio is a second home for you. Always have been and dear Min Yoongi was as much a refuge as the soundproof walls and softly humming equipment.
You nodded, a small smile tugging at your lips.
"Perfect—" There was a warmth in his gaze, one that lingered a second too long.
"How do you always know, Yoongi-ah?"
"It's my job," he said simply, but the corners of his mouth quirked up. Your heart fluttered with a familiar yet unwelcome sensation. But you quickly shook it off, focusing on the music in front of her.
"I'm lucky to have you, then," you murmured.
Yoongi didn't respond immediately, and when he did, his voice was quieter than before.
"I'd say I'm the lucky one."
Before you could process what he meant, your phone buzzed, breaking the spell. You picked it up, seeing a message from your lifelong bestie, Jimin-ah.
Emergency. Coming over.
You frown but you are happy to not indulge in something you don't have the answers to. "Jimin-ah is on his way. Guess I'll have to call it a night."
Yoongi's expression was unreadable, but he nodded, knowing that it must be something important if you’re packing your stuff so quickly.
"I'll see you tomorrow, then."
"You need to fucking hear this," he says, her voice brimming with urgency when he bursts into the apartment like a whirlwind, his dark glossy hair bouncing as he flops onto the couch.
"You remember Seo Kang-joon?"
You hand him a glass of red wine and sit across from him.
"What now? Did he suddenly reappear after he ghosted me?"
Jimin winces.
"Actually, yeah. And I finally found out why he did so."
Your stomach drops. You liked that man when you went out, but the message you left a good amount of time ago went unanswered for an even longer period of time.
"Why?"
He hesitates, his eyes darting around the room. Finally, he leans forward, lowering his voice. "Everyone thinks you and Yoongi are… you know."
You blink.
"What?" you say, playing dumb.
"You knooowww…—
"—that."
He said through gritted teeth, trying to make you understand, but your brain was not cooperating.
"No, I dooooon't know that" You mimicked him, and he only stared dead serious at your stupidity.
"They think you've been doing it," he says bluntly. "Apparently, it's some open secret in the industry. Like, 'Oh, Y/N and Yoongi? Of course, they're a thing.'"
Your jaw drops. No way. No fucking way.
"That's insane. We're not… we're not like that."
"You sure about that buttercup?" Jimin raises an eyebrow and you merely nod.
"Cuz', he's not exactly denying it. And honestly, can you blame people for assuming? You've written two albums together, spent countless hours locked in the studio, and the way he looks at you…" he trails off, shaking his head.
"There is just no way you two did not fuck each other's brains out."
Your cheeks burn.
"That's ridiculous. Yoongi and I are friends. Just friends."
"Hmm, I don't know hun,—"
He was right. You weren't buying it. Not entirely.
But you weren't ready to admit that out loud—not yet, anyway. Your mind races. You replay every moment you've spent together, every lingering glance and fleeting touch.
Yoongi and you?
It was absurd, wasn't it?
Right?
Jimin watched you carefully, his perfectly shaped brows raised in amusement. "You're thinking about it, aren't you?"
"No," you scoffed, but your voice lacked conviction.
Jimin smirked, leaning back against the couch. "Look, babe, I wouldn't bring this up if I didn't think it was something you should actually think about. People don't just make this kind of shit up for no reason."
You sighed, rubbing your temples. "I just—why wouldn't he deny it?"
"That's what you need to figure out." Jimin gave you a pointed look. "You trust him, don't you?"
You hesitated. That was the problem, wasn't it? You trusted Yoongi more than anyone. He had been your anchor in the storm, your safe space when everything else felt uncertain.
But this—this was different.
The way he looked at you.
The way he always knew exactly what you needed.
You replayed every moment with Yoongi in your mind, combing through the memories with a fine-toothed scepticism, looking for anything—anything—that could have fed these rumours. The way he watched you while you worked in the dance studio, the quiet way he always made sure you had water before long sessions, the casual intimacy in the way he touched you—light, fleeting, like a habit neither of you had ever questioned.
Had you been blind this whole time?
Jimin's voice snapped you back to reality.
"Look, I think you need to talk to him. Like, actually talk to him."
You swallowed hard.
Talking to Min Yoongi had never been difficult before. But this? This felt dangerous.
The next evening, you stepped into the dimly lit studio, and the question sat on the tip of your tongue like a loaded gun.
Yoongi was already there, as always. The warm amber glow of the desk lamp cast long shadows across his sharp features, catching on the soft strands of dark hair that fell over his eyes. His fingers rested idly on the soundboard, a picture of quiet focus—until he looked up at you.
His gaze, steady and unreadable, held you captive.
"You're late," he murmured, but there was no accusation in his tone—just that familiar, quiet warmth.
You swallowed. "Got caught up with Jimin last night, forgot to set a reminder."
At that, something flickered across his face—too quick to name, gone before you could hold onto it. "Ah."
Silence stretched between you, thick with something you weren't ready to name. But you hadn't come here to tiptoe around things anymore.
So you stepped forward, pressing a hand against the cool surface of the mixing console, grounding yourself, only now taking his appearance in.
"I played with the structure a little last night after you went home and—" he broke the silence first, but you knew he sensed the sudden awkwardness in your posture, your whole being.
"Is something the matter, sleepyhead?"
"Nope, nothing at all."
You quickly retorted, trying to look anywhere else but his gorgeous face.
Yoongi's eyes, however, never wavered. They held a depth that made it impossible for you to escape his gaze. You had always known how intense he could be, but now, in the stillness of the studio, it felt almost intimate, the air thick with unspoken words that seemed to pulse around you like a melody begging to be heard.
He leaned forward slightly, his hands resting casually on the desk, but his posture was all focus—intent, almost as if he was waiting for you to unravel yourself.
"Are you sure about that?" His voice was lower now, a gentle challenge. He was pulling at the thread, testing the tension between you.
Your stomach twisted. This was the moment, wasn't it?
"I'm fine, Yoongi, just had a lot of wine last night," you said again, but your voice betrayed you. It cracked, ever so slightly, and you couldn't mask the uncertainty in it.
The silence between you thickened, and it felt like the space in the room had shrunk, until it was just you, him, and the suffocating pressure of the question you both knew was lingering.
He didn't look away, not even when you avoided his gaze, staring down at the soundboard like it could offer you some kind of escape. He moved to the electronic piano while lifting a brow at you.
"So as I said, I played with the structure—"
You watched him, leaning at the piano, his fingers poised just above the keys, waiting for him to break the silence again, to give you something more. But you didn't want more from him—not in the way you wanted it. Not yet.
Instead, you played a dangerous game, one of subtle manipulation, testing him, probing for the truth behind his unreadable expressions.
"You remember Seo Kang-joon, right?" You interrupt him, raising your voice just a little.
The name hung in the air between you, deliberately chosen, carefully placed like a baited hook.
Yoongi's fingers stilled for the briefest of moments. But it was enough. Just enough for you to notice. His posture shifted ever so slightly, his shoulders stiffening imperceptibly.
You bit back a smile, inwardly satisfied at his subtle reaction.
"I bumped into him yesterday on my way home. He... he actually asked me out on a date again. Said he lost his phone and had to get a new phone number, didn't remember mine."
A lie.
The words left your mouth so easily, like a lie you had rehearsed in front of the mirror, and yet your heart pounded with anticipation. You weren't expecting much. Just a flicker of jealousy, a crack in the calm façade he always wore. So your interrogation of his, perhaps, hidden feelings isn't unprovoked.
Yoongi didn't immediately respond. His fingers finally touched the keys, the faintest chord ringing through the room, but his eyes remained fixed on the piano.
For a long moment, there was nothing but the soft melody playing between you, the rhythm of his fingers meeting the ivories almost too steady.
And then, finally, he spoke. His voice was low, flat. "Is that so?"
Your breath caught. That was it?
You frowned, staring at him from across the room, searching for a reaction. Anything. But his expression was as controlled as ever. His calm demeanour was unshakable.
No way.
You leaned forward, the pressure of the lie beginning to claw at your insides. "Yeah, he asked me. He was actually pretty... persistent about it. He was sorry I thought he ghosted me." You let the words hang, trailing off deliberately, watching his reaction closely.
But Yoongi only nodded, his eyes focused on the keys.
"I see."
A small flame of frustration ignited in your chest. Was he really this indifferent? Was he truly going to let this lie slide without a hint of a reaction?
You stood up abruptly, unable to hold the pretense any longer. You could feel your temper rising, the anger bubbling just beneath the surface.
"You fucking see?!" Yoongi's fingers paused mid-chord as the tension in your voice snapped through the room. You busted out your feelings. Well, this was doomed from the start.
You stepped forward, your voice trembling with a mix of fury and something else—something raw that you hadn't been prepared to face. "You don't even care, do you? You don't care that everyone is saying we're fucking, that they think we're—" You cut yourself off, almost choking on the words. You couldn't bear to say them aloud, but you needed to know, needed to push him.
His gaze met yours, and in that instant, you knew he hadn't been indifferent. He'd been waiting. Waiting for you to unravel yourself, for you to show your cards. His eyes, dark and unreadable, pinned you in place.
"Is that what you wanted to hear?" His voice was cold now, controlled, with an edge that made your skin prickle. The air in the room thickened, turning heavy with the weight of his words.
"Well, perchance?!—" You gesture rapidly.
"You run around not denying it Yoongi,—?!"
The calm, controlled exterior he wore was unravelling, and you weren't sure if you liked the version of him that was emerging—or if it terrified you.
He stood up, slowly, deliberately. The sudden motion caused a cold shiver to run down your spine. He didn't step towards you, but the space between you both seemed to shrink in the way he carried himself—every step deliberate, every movement measured.
"Why do you care so much?" His voice was low, almost detached, but there was a certain sharpness to it now. It was the tone he used when he was dangerously close to losing control, but for now, he still kept it in check. "What's so important about what they think?"
You opened your mouth to reply, but the words tangled in your throat. You had been so sure of your reasoning—so certain of the way you wanted him to react—but now that he was giving you exactly what you wanted, you realized just how hollow that satisfaction felt.
"I dunno Yoongi—maybe because men ghosted me—maybe because you just might be the reason I had a dry season— or maybe you're that kind of motherfucker—"
Yoongi let out a sharp breath, a dry laugh escaping him as he shook his head. You elevated this to a different level now. "A motherfucker?" He repeated his tone somewhere between disbelief and amusement. "That's what we're doing now?"
You were too far gone to stop. The frustration, the pent-up emotions, the sheer nerve of him sitting there, all unbothered while you spiralled—it cracked something open inside you.
"Yes, Yoongi! A motherfucker! What else do you call a guy who lets rumours fly like this and doesn't even care?" Your hands gestured wildly as your voice grew more frantic.
"You don't deny it, you don't address it, you just exist in this limbo, letting people think we're screwing while I sit here looking like a desperate idiot who cannot get a hold of her man—"
His jaw clenched, his patience visibly wearing thin. "So what if I don't deny it?" He stepped closer, voice a fraction lower now, dangerously quiet. "What if I don't care what they think? What if I like the way it sounds?"
Your breath hitched.
Your mouth opened, but nothing came out. Your entire argument, the whole reason you'd brought this up, suddenly felt shaky, flimsy, like a house of cards collapsing under the weight of his words.
Yoongi watched you, his eyes dark and unreadable, waiting for you to process what he had just admitted.
Finally, your voice came out in a whisper, hoarse and unsure.
"The fuck, Yoongi?"
"I don't deny it," he said again, slower this time. His head tilted slightly, studying you. "Because it's not entirely wrong."
A rush of heat flooded through you—anger, shock, confusion, something else, something deeper and more dangerous. "Not… entirely… wrong?" You echoed, blinking at him. "Are you—are you actually fucking insane?"
Yoongi exhaled sharply, like he was just as frustrated as you were, like you were the one being difficult. "Y/N—"
"No," you cut him off, pointing a finger at him. "No, you don't get to just drop that and act like it's nothing."
"I'm not acting like it's nothing," he countered, his voice still calm, still infuriatingly composed. "You wanted to know why I never denied it? That's why."
"You can't be fucking serious right now, you fuck—" his body in your proximity startled you, but you let him pin you to the wall next to the mixing desk.
His hands caged you in, palms pressing against the wall on either side of your head. You felt the sharp inhale of his breath, the slow exhale, the tension buzzing between you like a live wire.
"You don't get it, do you?" His voice was quiet but razor-edged, his eyes dark and unwavering. "You've been running in circles trying to make me jealous, trying to get a reaction—" his gaze flicked down to your lips for just a second before meeting your eyes again, "pushing me like you want me to snap."
You listened. For once.
"You sat in that fucking booth with only your panties under that big shirt—"
"My fucking shirt—"
"My fucking shirt," he repeated, voice rough. "And you think I wouldn't become possessive? Think I didn't see the way you stretched in it, how you leaned in close, pretending like you didn't know exactly what you were doing?"
Your breath hitched. You did not realize he saw you this way.
You swallowed, trying to find solid ground beneath the sudden energy shift, but Yoongi wasn't giving you the chance.
"You wanted me to react?" His eyes burned into yours. "You wanted this?"
The heat between you became unbearable.
"I—" You started, but you had no words.
Because now, finally, Yoongi wasn't holding back.
And neither were you.
Your pulse hammered in your throat as his words sank in, wrapping around your ribs, tightening like a snare. You had been waiting—aching—for a reaction, pushing buttons you hadn't even fully understood yourself. But now? Now, Yoongi was looking at you like he had already decided.
His breath was warm against your cheek, the space between you non-existent.
"Say it," he murmured.
You licked your lips, the movement not lost on him. "Say what?"
Yoongi let out a short, dark chuckle. "That you like it. That you like this—the way I look at you, the way I see you."
Your stomach flipped.
"You're so full of shit," you whispered, but there was no weight behind it but pure provocation.
His fingers twitched against the wall before he exhaled sharply and leaned in, just enough for your breaths to tangle.
"And you'll be full of me."
"You big enough?"
Oh, that did it.
A sharp, involuntary gasp left his lips and your body betrayed you before your mind could catch up. The air between you turned electric, charged with something too dangerous to name.
Yoongi's gaze darkened, his tongue swiping over his bottom lip as if savouring the way your breath hitched when he looked at you that way. He bit down his lower lip before he spoke again, laying his palms on the flat surface of the table in front of the piano that lay on it–
"There are two possibilities happening between us—" He tilted his head slightly, gaze never wavering from yours, his voice a low rasp against your skin.
"One—we make this official,—" He said it like it was inevitable, like it was a fact written in stone. "No more rumours, no more bullshit. No one else but us. Just you and me."
Your breath stuttered, your heart slamming against your ribs.
"And the second?" you whispered, barely able to form the words.
Yoongi smirked, slow and sinful, his fingers twitching against the wall before he leaned in, his mouth a breath away from yours.
"I keep writing my songs, keep filling my verses with filth about how I would fuck you good and hard—until you finally beg me to bury my cock in your cunt."
“And people will hear you’re mine—”
Your entire body went hot. Yoongi's smirk widened, watching the way your breath stuttered, your pupils blown wide. He tilted his head, gaze flicking down to your parted lips, his voice dropping even lower. Your thighs clenched a traitorous reaction that made his smirk turn predatory.
"You—"
"That's the difference between them and me, baby." His fingers ghosted over your waist, light enough to make you shiver. "They just talk. I fucking deliver."
You swallowed hard, your pulse thrumming so violently it was a wonder you were still standing.
"You're so—"
"What?" Yoongi pressed in closer, his nose brushing against yours. "Say it."
You had no idea what you were going to say.
But when his fingers finally curled around your hip, pulling you flush against him, the words you should say, the ones that would stop this before it went too far—before you gave in—died in your throat.
"Fucking thought so." He smirked again. That smirk. That fucking smirk.
It did something to you, something dangerous, something you weren't sure you could control. It made you want to wipe it off his face—maybe with a slap, maybe with your mouth.
Yoongi knew it, too.
He leaned in just a fraction closer, his breath hot against your cheek, his grip tightening on your hip as if daring you to push him away.
You didn't.
"See?" His voice was silk and smoke, smooth but lethal. "You love this. You love the way I get under your skin. The way I make you feel."
Your nails dug into your palms. "You don't know shit about what I feel."
Yoongi chuckled, low and rough. "Don't I?"
His fingers traced a slow, deliberate path down your side, stopping just shy of indecency but still making you shudder.
"Tell me to stop," he murmured. "Tell me you don't want this, and I will."
It was the worst thing he could've said. Because the truth—the one you refused to admit even to yourself—was that you didn't want him to stop. Ever. You were so fucking needy to be touched after you got to know that your dried spell had a sorcerer and it was him. So technically now, he should be the one breaking it. And he knew it.
Your silence was all the confirmation he needed to press his lips against your neck.
His hands were suddenly everywhere—gripping your waist, sliding up your thighs, spreading you open like he had every right to.
"You think I'm going to let you run your mouth, push me to the edge, and not do something about it?" His voice was a rasp, thick with hunger. "You think I don't see how badly you want this?"
Your breath hitched as his thigh pressed between yours, the friction making your knees buckle. His mouth found your jaw, teeth scraping over sensitive skin before he kissed a path down your throat, sucking, biting, claiming.
You barely had time to think before he gripped your wrist, guiding your hand down—down—until your fingers brushed against him, hard and thick beneath his sweats. The sound that tore from his throat was pure sin.
"Feel that?" Yoongi growled, grinding against your palm. "That's what you do to me. That's what you fucking cause each time we're in this studio."
Your fingers flexed, a teasing squeeze that had his breath stuttering. He cursed under his breath, tilting your chin up with his free hand, forcing you to meet his gaze.
Dark. Devouring. Desperate.
"Tell me to stop," he murmured again, a cruel echo of earlier. But this time, there was no space between you, no restraint.
And you didn't.
Instead, you yanked his mouth to yours. Yoongi groaned into the kiss, the sound reverberating through you as his hands pushed under your shirt, fingers trailing over bare skin, leaving fire in their wake.
Your nails raked down his back as he lifted you effortlessly, pressing you harder against the wall.
His hips rolled, slow and devastating, and a moan ripped from your throat, shameless, wrecked.
"That's it, baby" he rasped, his forehead against yours, breath heavy. "That's the sound I've been waiting for."
His hand dipped lower, slipping past the band of your shorts, finding you soaked for him. Yoongi cursed, his fingers teasing, circling, before sliding through the wetness with devastating precision.
"Fuck," he groaned, voice hoarse. "You're already so fucking ready for me."
You didn't even get a chance to respond before he pushed a finger inside, then another, stretching you, filling you, working you open until you were trembling against him.
"Yoongi—"
"I know," he hushed you, his lips brushing against your ear, his fingers moving faster, deeper. "I've got you, baby. Just take it."
And fuck, you did. You took everything he gave, your body writhing against his as pleasure built sharp and unbearable, spiralling higher, tightening—
"Come for me," he ordered, his voice dark, commanding. "Come on my fingers like the desperate little thing I know you are."
And when he curled his fingers just right, his thumb pressing where you needed it most—
You shattered.
Completely. Utterly.
Yoongi swallowed your cry with his mouth, dragging it out, his hand still moving, still milking every last bit of pleasure from you until you were shaking in his arms.
Then, as you barely caught your breath, his voice came again, low and teasing.
"Now," he murmured, undoing the string of his sweats, letting them fall.
"I'll fuck you hard that you'll forget about those smutty books you're reading—"
Your body barely had time to recover before Yoongi was pressing closer, his fingers sliding away, leaving you aching and empty. But then—then—his hands were on your hips, tugging your shorts down, peeling them away with agonizing slowness, like he wanted you to feel every second of it.
Your breath stuttered as he stepped back just enough to look at you, his dark gaze trailing over your bare, trembling form.
"Fucking perfect," he muttered, almost to himself, before his hands gripped your thighs and lifted you, forcing your legs around his waist.
The weight of him, the sheer heat of him, pressed right against your core, had you gasping, fingers digging into his shoulders. Yoongi groaned low in his throat, rolling his hips just enough for you to feel all of him, hard and thick and ready.
"Ain’t big enough, huh?" he murmured, dragging his clothed crotch against your soaked heat. His voice was rough, strained. "I’ll show you how big I am."
Your nails bit into his skin, your body writhing against him as he kept teasing, kept torturing you with slow, precise movements. The friction had you panting, your forehead falling against his.
"Stop teasing," you managed, barely above a breath.
Yoongi chuckled, dark and knowing. "Look at you. So desperate for me already." His fingers gripped your jaw, tilting your face up so you had no choice but to meet his gaze. "Tell me how much you want it."
You let out a sound between a whimper and a growl, rolling your hips against him in a silent plea. But that wasn't enough for him. Your heart racing, you felt his warm palm connect with your skin, a stinging sensation spreading through your buttocks as he spanked you. You let out a small yelp, but Yoongi didn't relent, his hand rising and falling in a steady rhythm.
"Say it." His voice was like gravel, low and demanding. "Say you want me to fuck you, Y/N. Say you need me." He pulled down his sweats enough so his cock sprang free from the confinement.
Your pride clashed with your need, the battle waging for only a moment before he rolled his hips again, pressing the thick head of his cock right against your entrance—and your resolve snapped.
"Fuck—I need you," you gasped, your fingers twisting into his hair, tugging hard enough to make him groan. "Please, Yoongi—just fuck me."
Something broke in him then.
With a guttural sound, he aligned himself and pushed inside, the stretch of him stealing the air from your lungs. He didn't stop, didn't hesitate—just drove forward, sinking deep until he was fully sheathed inside you until there was no space between you, nothing left but the overwhelming, consuming feel of him.
"Fuck," Yoongi gritted out, his forehead dropping to yours. His hands flexed against your thighs like he was trying to hold himself back, to give you a moment. "So fucking tight."
You could barely breathe, barely think, pleasure and pain and something deeper rolling through you in waves. But then he shifted, just slightly, and—
"Oh fuck," you gasped, your head falling back against the wall.
Yoongi's grip tightened, his breath hot against your skin. "Yeah?" He rolled his hips again, slow and deliberate, dragging himself out before thrusting back in, harder this time. Your moan was wrecked, broken—exactly what he wanted.
"Fuck, you feel so good wrapped around me," he murmured, pressing open-mouthed kisses down your throat, across your collarbone. "Taking me so fucking well."
Then he moved. Snapping his hips as hard as he could to make your back rub against the wall, to make your head spin from the bouncing on his thick cock that made you see so many constellations. Up and down, up and down. He felt so good inside you, filling you completely as his hips slammed against yours.
The force of his thrust made you cry out, your fingers tangled in his dark raven hair, which you so openly adored when he kept longer. His mouth crashed down on yours, swallowing your moans as he drove into you with a fierce intensity, each stroke building on the last.
His hand cupped your breast and his thumb brushed over your nipple. The touch was gentle, a stark contrast to the fierce way he was driving into you. Your back arched, pushing your breast further into his hand, and you felt his fingers close around it, squeezing softly. The sensation was almost too much to bear, and you moaned loudly, the sound lost in the kiss that still claimed your mouth. Yoongi's hips kept moving, each thrust building on the last, and his hand on your breast seemed to be pulling you closer to some unseen edge. His fingers tightened around your nipple, rolling it between them, and you felt yourself teetering on the brink of something explosive.
Yoongi groaned, his grip almost bruising now, his thrusts turning erratic. "You gonna come for me again?" he rasped, his hips thrusting into you harder, each one was met with your breath hitching in your throat before you moaned. Loud.
"Gonna fall apart on my cock?"
It was too much—too good.
"I know what you want, love. What will make you cum around my cock."
Your body began to tense, your muscles coiling tighter and tighter as he spoke. "You want it rough," he growled, his thrusts becoming more savage, more primal.
"You want me to take you apart, piece by piece." His grip on your breast tightened, his fingers digging deep into your skin, and you felt yourself spiralling out of control.
His hand left your breast to envelope around your throat, his fingers wrapping tightly around your neck, his thumb pressing against the underside of your jaw. That was it. Your moans got even louder and he raised a brow. You felt a flutter in your chest as his grip tightened, his eyes burning with an intense hunger as he gazed into yours and he slowed down to observe your face that certainly did not hide any pleasure.
"Kinky," he rasped, his voice low and dirty. "So fucking kinky."
He held you in place, his grip on your throat tightening ever so slightly, he began to move his hips again, his cock stirring back to life inside you. His eyes burned with an intense desire, and you could feel the tension building in his body as he drove into you with slow, deliberate strokes.
"I'm going to fill you up, babe" he growled, his voice low and husky. "I'm going to make you take every last drop of me." And with that, he began to thrust into you harder again, faster again, his hips pounding against yours as he chased your release. You felt him swelling inside you, his cock growing thicker and hotter as he approached the edge.
Your orgasm crashed into you, and you could not even stop it. You wanted this to last until your body shuts down from all that pleasure he has given you. Your body locking up as pleasure burns through every nerve ending. You clenched around him, drawing a strangled moan from his lips, his hips snapping forward one last time before he broke. His release spilt deep inside you as he let out a low, guttural groan, his semen erupting into you in a hot, pulsing flood that warmed your walls. You felt him shudder and convulse above you, his body trembling with pleasure as he emptied himself into your waiting flesh
The sensation was overwhelming, the feeling of being filled and claimed by him almost too much to bear. His chest heaving with exertion and for a moment, neither of you moved.
"You're so fucking mine," he murmured, voice still thick with satisfaction. He lifted his head to meet your lips once more before he said.
"Don't you ever question my devotion for you—" he started, panting after the little stunt you just pulled.
“—Or the size of my cock, doll.”
You only smiled wickedly into his lips.
“You like us role-playing, tho—“ you started. Yoongi's grip on your waist tightened, his lips brushing over your collarbone as his breath warmed your skin. His hand slid lower, fingers tracing the curve of your body possessively.
"He could not stop talking about it the whole fucking night, babe."
"Who, Jimin?" he asked, his tone dripping with amusement, yet there was an underlying tension in it, like he was trying to keep himself in check to not turn you over and fuck you in the ass. Even though he had to thank Jimin for this fuck prompt he unknowingly gave you an idea of (such a mundane trope) and the final ride you two just had. The thanking will wait until whenever you decide you want Jimin to know about you two.
Of course, something similar happened at the start of your relationship and you could not help yourself to let him fuck you against that wall once again. This time with a similar scenario but slightly adjusted replicas.
You couldn't help but let out a small laugh, though it was edged with a hint of frustration. You shifted under his touch, your heart still racing from the intensity of the night.
"Yeah. Couldn't stop about how people talk about us fucking our brains out here—"
"But we are—" his voice thick with the weight of his meaning, but his tone now softer than before. His mouth pressed against the sensitive skin just below your ear, and his hands pulled you closer, if that was even possible, as if to remind you of just how much he could claim you again and again and again.
You gasped, your body reacting to him in ways you couldn't control, and you felt a rush of vulnerability, knowing how deeply he could read you. "Yoongi," you breathed, trying to keep your composure, but he wasn't making it easy.
"Yeah, you can say that again," Yoongi whispered, his lips brushing against your ear before his teeth grazed the lobe, making your entire body shudder.
You swallowed hard, your head spinning. "I'm serious," you managed to say, even though your voice came out shaky. "Jimin—he thinks I'm still under that dry spell cuz' everybody thinks we're doing it—"
"Let him yap, love."
"Yeah I would, but he went to a point where he talked about how I'm gonna need to buy that Tesla robot to fuck me cuz' no living man will, thanks to you and your not-so-subtle hints that we're doing it—"
"My not-so-subtle hints?" He chuckled.
You couldn't help but roll your eyes, feeling a mixture of amusement and frustration. "I mean, he was kinda making some good points," you teased, pretending to think it over. "We do have that whole 'will they, won't they' vibe going on."
Yoongi's fingers paused against your skin for a moment, as if he were considering your words, but then a slow, mischievous smirk crept onto his lips.
"What do you think, babe?"
"I—I think," you stammered, feeling the weight of the moment sink in, "I think we could've been doing a better damn good job of hiding it. But maybe—" You hesitated, your heart beating wildly in your chest.
"Maybe it's time we stop pretending."
"Well, next time Jimin mentions our 'vibe,' I'm making him listen to a few of our 'studio sessions.'"
Your eyes widened in mock horror. "Yoongi!" You gave him a dramatic shiver, and he chuckled, wrapping his arms around you.
"Exactly," Yoongi said, smirking mischievously. "That'll shut him up real quick."
"Good luck," you teased, tapping his chest lightly. "Maybe he'll start talking about how lucky you are to have me in your corner."
"Lucky, huh?" he mused, pulling you in for a hug. "You're damn right I'm lucky."
You grinned, enjoying the easy banter, letting the tension slip away as you let him hold you. It wasn't about proving anything to anyone—it was just the two of you, sharing this moment, enjoying each other's company and, of course, having a little fun at Jimin's expense.
"Wait—" you just realised.
"You know about my smutty books?!"
He threw his head back and gave a loud throat laugh in response.
Summary: With only a few dollars left to your name you weren’t sure how you were going to survive. Thankfully, Suga’s Cat Cafe came to the rescue offering you a job when you needed it most. Not only did it pay decently it also came with perks like unlimited free coffee and a cute, but grumpy cafe owner named Yoongi. At first you believed it was him that saved you at your worst, but as time went on you started to wonder…who rescued who?
Warnings: Mentions of depression, suicide, anxiety, lots of angst, injury, tiny bit of smut (maybe), will update more later
Word Count: ?
🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾
It’s going to take a little longer than I expected to get the full story finished and posted. Maybe another week or so.
But here is a little teaser below:
Yoongi dropped down onto the bed next to you before he curled into your side resting his head on your shoulder. His arms lazily wrapped around your waist. You could feel the heat from his breath against your neck while you carded your fingers through his damp hair.
“W-was that okay?”, he questioned nervously, “It’s been a while since I’ve done that.”, he added with a small laugh.
“Everything was perfect.”, you whispered trying to reassure him, “You’re perfect Yoongi…in every way.”
The compliment only embarrassed him further causing him to bury his face into your skin even more as a way to try and soothe himself. “Please don’t say things like that Y/N.”, he mumbled into your skin, “Please don’t say sweet loving things that you don’t mean. I don’t know if my heart can handle any more hurt.”
It was then that you realized he was crying.
“Hey.”, you softly said using your finger to tilt his chin up to look at you, “I mean it. I really do Yoongi. You’re perfect to me.“
He shook his head, “I’m the farthest thing from that. I’ll end up hurting you one day. You’ll leave like everyone else…because of me. I just know it. So please don’t think I’m perfect. It’ll make it less painful for you when I inevitably ruin everything like I always do.”
You let him cry for a while. You knew he needed it. But when it sounded like his sniffles were subsiding and his breathing was leveling out and turning into soft snores you pulled his hand up to your lips giving it a kiss and interlocking your fingers tightly with his, “I love you so much Min Yoongi and no matter how hard you try to chase me away…I’ll always fight to be here with you. We’ll fight to be here together.”
synopsis: Ever since you were young, you found solstice in the clouds. Found haven in their winding winds, their chilling storms. Monsters of the air meant to destroy became your love— your safety. You know everything about the skies, yet you only want to know more about him. Wish for him to love you just as much as you do him. Your best friend. Your scorpion. Your impossible. Your Yoongi. -> part of the rest, relax, reserve series
⛆ ﾟ ⋆ : content: scorpion hybrid!yoongi x human!reader, storm chaser!yoongi+reader, angst, semi-public sex (bathroom), fingering, p in v, dom!yoongi, sub!reader, bratty!reader a lil, rough sex, thigh riding, sex under the influence (alcohol), multiple orgasms, unprotected sex, one mention of a breeding kink, yoongi has a tail, mates, misunderstandings, fights, jealousy, non-linear storytelling, reader and yoongi are both kinda stupid idk, but also v cute, angst but a happy ending <33
⛆ ﾟ ⋆ : notes: heyyyyy it’s ur girl, back with another mc let’s play video!! kidding lol, sorry this took so long to write, life has been really hectic. trust me on this fic lol. but i rlly fell in love with these two nd I hope you do too <33 and i hope u enjoy my attempts at comedy! remember!! my requests are always open nd you can always feel free to send asks to characters <33
18+ -> minors / blank blogs dni
Wind wraps in your hair, blowing it– making it form into some beastly, monstrous thing around your head. Tangling your face, your eyes falling askew as it finds itself messing around your very being. The howls of gusts form in your ears, sounding of ghosts that would haunt any normal person.
But you, no. Not you. You live for this. Live for the rain that beats into your skin. Live for the cracks of thunder roaring above your head. Find serenity in the dark clouds that hang overhead, the adrenaline pumping through your veins. In the knowledge that it's coming. That it’s coming soon.
The world acts as something greater- something more than yourself. A collective that has not a care for you or the people in it. A system acting for its own desires. A storm that takes and takes and takes until there's nothing left to give.
You love it. Love every second of it.
Even if you should be scared, even if you should be terrified– look for cover just like everyone else. To hide and cower away from the winding beast that destroys homes, takes down power lines. That kills. You can’t. Not when you feel this– this calling deep in your bones. This calling to know more. This calling to conquer a monster.
To chase the impossible.
You have always lived for that very thing. Have constructed your entire life around finding answers for beasts that are beyond reason, to construct something real from what can only be construed as fake. To look the storm in the eye, to live within it rather than to be consumed.
And that is exactly why you stand where you find yourself now. Tornado Alley. A storm brewing just in front of you. Warm air meeting cold, finding breath, coming to life.
Maybe you should be scared. Maybe you should let panic set you alight and carry you far, far away from the death spirals. Maybe you should do a lot of things, yet you can't. You can only stare in wonder as rain hits your flesh. As the wind tries to take your clothes, battering them in the breeze. As electricity cracks above your head, light debris flying past your form to entertain the forming tornadoes fury.
Bang, Bang, Bang.
Now that sound isn't from the storm, it can’t be. Sounds too much like metal, like a fist hitting it. Oh right, the car.
“(Y/n) get your ass in here, now!” His voice is loud, forced to so you could hear him above the storm. He would never yell otherwise. Never raise his voice a single decibel against you.
Your body turns to face him, a smile breaking across your cheeks without a second thought. Eyes turning to crescents, rain dripping down your cheeks.
Right, Yoongi.
The impossible.
You don’t know when it happened. It shouldn’t have happened. But you knew it did. Felt the shift in your soul whenever you looked at him, felt your blood pumping just a fraction faster whenever he was close. Felt yourself yearn to smell his signature Yoongi scent whenever you sat in his car, whenever he drove you around on one of your little escapades.
Maybe it was a year ago. Maybe less. Maybe more. You could never be sure– emotions never were your strong suit. But he knew that, and he didn’t care. Never pressured or pried, always just let the two of you be. Act in co-existence in a way you doubt two people could.
Your partner in crime, your solace among the disarray perpetuating every second of your job– your life. The only person you knew crazy enough to chase the storms with you. To risk their life driving you into the eye. Your right hand man. Your friend.
None of it should have happened. But it did anyway. Isn’t that always the way life goes? The same way the storms control the skies, he found himself controlling your heart with no will of his own. No knowledge of the underlying flutter that found its way into your guts the second he looked at you, nor any knowledge of the way your eyes fell into adoration when they fell on him.
Why did you have to fall in love with the storm?
You weren’t sure– never cared to look deeper into the fact. Never cared to think about why you couldn’t fathom a future without him. Never dared to dip into why the scrawny kid from your college has suddenly become a man before you. Never even thought to challenge the pre-disposed ideologies that held your friendship by its core.
No. You would never do anything as stupid as that.
Yes, you were a creature of impulse. Never the type to take into account the consequences your actions disclosed. But you like to chase the impossible. You would never think to actually attempt to change it. Especially when you could lose everything in the process. Lose him.
In more ways than one.
Plus, you know where he stands. Know he could never see you as anything more than a friend– a little sister. The hair ruffles, the slight glares he gives when men talk to you in the bars, the way he puts up with your ‘overly affectionate’ cuddles– as much as you wish the simple actions meant more, you knew they simply didn’t.
A big brother. Unfortunately for you, he knows that’s the role he plays in your life too well.
But he’s not your big brother. He's a man, you’re a woman. It’s not like you ever asked to get caught up in the stringers that tangled you together. Not like you ever asked for this crush to form.
“For fucks sake! (Y/n)!” His voice is louder now, a harsh yell pulling you from the thoughts that sunk you under the waves. His body forcing itself through the wind to get to you, arm raising to shield his face. “We have to fucking go!!”
He would admonish you later for getting too caught up in your own thoughts again– something you knew all too well. But when the storm was raging around you, it was almost easier to think. To get lost in the recesses of your brain until you drew the conclusion you had been looking for all along.
His hand grips your wrist now, dragging you back to the safety of your company truck all while scolding you harshly with words he never actually meant. Just his salt-coated concern peaking through the surface. And well, his concern about getting swallowed up by the storm. Yeah, most people worry about that kind of stuff. At least that’s what you suppose.
“Are you that fucking stupid?” He shouts roughly at you, forcing you to get in the passenger seat. His touch is gentle even if his words are strong. He always has been strong. “You’re going to get yourself killed!”
He slams the door closed before you can say anything back– frustrated but not mad. Never mad at you. And for that you can’t help the giddy feeling on your lips. Your eyes watching him as he quickly walks to his side of the car, tail curled close to his back almost as if to protect himself.
Right, his tail. You forget about it a lot of the time– but at the same, you are so very fond of it. Smile whenever it moves in response to his emotions, giggle whenever he forgets about it himself, tripping over the thing.
You often forget Yoongi isn’t a full human. But it’s never played much of a role in your life, in your friendship. So you don’t really see the point to care. Choose to ignore the scorpion blood that runs through his veins and view him as any other person walking the face of the earth. It’s never bothered you.
Most people around you call you a fool anyway, it’s not much to add another reason to it.
“Ah~ Don’t worry, King Yoongi. I don’t plan on getting myself killed anytime soon.” You let out a gentle giggle as he finds his way into the car, pressing on the gas almost immediately and driving as fast as he can away.
His body is so rigid, so stressed. Yet you can’t be further from it. Your legs propped haphazardly on the dashboard, your body sinking deeper into the seat. You trust him. He always gets you out. Something about his special senses, probably. Maybe.
Actually, you don’t know. You should ask him about it later– how he can see in such horrid conditions.
“You will if I just leave you there.” He rolls his eyes, glancing over to you for only a second before managing back to the road, “Don’t think I won’t.”
“You won’t though.” He only scoffs, but you can see the smile at the corner of his mouth. It warms you almost as much as the sound of the rain– or maybe it's hail now, pelting the roof of the car.
“I could and I will.”
“But you won’t.”
“Just put your fucking seat belt on.” He grumbles, his voice getting a fraction louder as he turns the wheel harshly, a last second manoeuvre. A stick flying through the air past your window. A narrow avoidance.
The car bumps harshly as it drives, the roads narrow and in disarray. Swerving to avoid debris that litters the ground and jumping as it dips into potholes. It feels like a race. Makes you feel alive even as you click the belt into place– as he moves his tail across your frame to act as a second one.
You should be scared. Should be terrified of getting caught in the storm. But you trust Yoongi. You know he’ll always protect you.
“Did the other teams drop their equipment on time?” You ask, reaching below your seat and grabbing the computer. He sends you a pointed glance.
“According to the sensors we were the last ones.”
“Well we always are~” You mumble back, a little sing-song in your voice while your head tilts towards your chin. Eyes scanning the array of measurements that pop up on the screen– reading them, taking in their meaning.
It is your job, anyway.
“Who’s fault is that?” His words don’t perfectly cross your ears, never do when you're trying to focus. An input of too much information at once and a computer might explode! Aka your brain, aka he’s known for years you have selective hearing when trying to understand complicated things.
“Mhmm…” You quietly mumble out, fingers moving quickly to type as he finally drags the car out of the storm. Slows down to a more human speed as you type out a few observations, input pieces of code to make your readings more sensible.
You completely miss the small smile he sends your way, the tilt of his head trying to check “Mmm… Nothing we haven’t seen before. Got a couple of cool 3D models of the storm your screen, “Anything interesting?”
though…” You tilt the laptop in his direction, showing him the model of the storm. Exactly how big it was, how fast it was moving. “Just an E2, but still pretty.”
“Yeah, had to’ve been to almost let it eat you.”
You roll your eyes, shutting the laptop as he pulls over to the side of the road, “Of course, I’d let anything as pretty as that take me out.”
He scoffs, “Anything, really?”
“Yeah, you know that guy on Attack on Titan that's like ‘oh i’d let a pretty female titan eat’-- Wait a second it is not my fault!” You suddenly announce, his words before finally registering in your mind, “You’re always tinkering with the the the bits!! That’s why it takes so long!”
You grump, crossing your arms. A fond smile finding its way to his lips.
“Yeah, cause the ‘bits’ are the real issue, aren’t they? Not you playing out music videos in your head while a tornado is hurrdaling at us?”
“Okay! That was one time! And totally not my fault!” You huff, not in any real annoyance, just simply banter. Yoongi always seemed to like your over-dramatic reactions anyway. “You said we could play Hurrcane!! By my girl Bridget Mendler! You know what that song does to me!”
He can only laugh in response, the gums of his mouth showing as he tilts his head back. Long black hair falling lower against his shoulders. Tail falling lax for the first time in forever. Crests shown in his eyes.
You like giving Yoongi your reactions if it means he can smile like this.
When he looks in your direction for a breef second, you can’t help but puff out your cheeks and stick out your tounge in pestilence. The action only causing him to shake his head, eyes returning to the road a little brighter than before.
“Yeah, yeah, you’re right. How could I possibly forget.” A thousand words are said behind his tone that you could never pick up on. Never notice. “You get so excited, like a kid. It’s funny.”
Your head jerks to look at him, a pointed glare in your eye, “She makes me feel things you can’t even hope to understand, Min.”
He rolls his own, “Uh huh. I’m sure.”
College. Senior Year. The perfect hell it bestows on all of its captors.
The combined effort of senior thesis’s, grad school searches, advanced level course work, and the unyielding need for money after graduation, as it turns out, is the best possible combination for stress any one person can find! How wonderful. Especially for you, with a stupid gpa you need to upkeep to keep your stupid scholarships, so you can get your stupid degree and get your stupid job–
Well, okay. Now you’re just spiralling.
Annoyed and tired has never been a good combination for everyday dreamers. Especially those that have been working their entire lives for a single goal. To chase their every last dying hope since they were a child. To become the very person they could only wish to be in their youth.
But in all fairness, your ass has been handed to you on a silver platter after your last exam grade was horribly, terribly slid to you face down against the table. A quiet note of “see me after class” listed on the top without reverie. Your thoughts a sudden cyclone vortexing you inward and onward, wishing you could tell the sweet summer child of your adolescence that you had failed her. That you were never going to be able to live inside a tornado as she had wished.
Oh. The monster that you were.
That was, at least, until you did meet with your professor. And, apparently, he wasn’t going to drop you from the class and (somehow) get you removed from the college like you had thought! Even better, he saw how hard you worked– how much you truly care. Deciding to lend a hand rather than pull it back. Giving you a building and a time to meet with a tutor he specifically picked out.
Someone he would apparently trust his life to. Your life– okay, academic career, to as well.
That’s how you found yourself now. Walking through a library that had to be older than your great grandparents– the scent of mildew filling your nose as you moved farther and farther into the recesses of the building.
Why, exactly, you had to meet in the deepest, darkest corner of the library at an absurd hour of the day confuses you even now. Annoys you a little, quite frankly. Leaving your dorm past 8pm feels like a nightmare.
But you trust your professor, you trust that he wouldn’t steer you wrong. Well, hope is probably a better term. One that more accurately portrays your inner conflicts as you make your way to the back conference table nestled deep within walls of encyclopaedias. Dust entrapping the air you sit in– age and memories baked in the walls.
At worst, that’s all you shall make. Memories. Call the whole thing a bust and look online for some tutors or go to a used bookstore and buy a few more outdated textbooks. At best, you’ll pass the class and become one of the best meteorologists the world has seen. No pressure on Mr. Mystery Tutor or anything. Obviously.
None at all.
Your fingers find themselves tapping against the table as you think; seat already taken, items already spread out as you wait. Just your ring finger over and over in a repeated motion– the beat of wind speeds picking up on a desert plane. The bubbling of magma under the surface of the earth. The–
“(Y/n)?” A husk of a voice breaks your almost monotonous silence, your tapping suddenly ceased as a chill travels down your spine. A chill from the tone of someone's voice alone– can you believe that?
Somewhere, once, when you were little, you heard that a chill runs down your spine whenever a serial killer passes by. But this isn't that. No, this is something entirely different. More familiar. More recognizant.
Your eyes shoot pitifully fast up at him, almost tilting your head as you take in the features. Black hair– maybe brown, baggy hoodie, slouched shoulders. One hand supporting the shrap of his bag that hangs over his shoulder.
No, you don’t know him. Maybe a future you does– one where a timeline passes over this exact spot. Where you’re friends already, maybe something more. Something safe. Though, that isn’t a very scientific explanation. One colleagues and professors may make fun of you for. You disregard the notion, only nodding your head to confirm.
He only mirrors the motion in return, seemingly not one for conversation himself. Finding himself pulling out the chair across from yours, setting himself inside of it. Wasting no time in pulling out his own belongings.
Laptop, textbook, notebook.
“The professor said you were having trouble with qualitative analysis of…” His voice trails off, and you can’t help but wonder how someone's voice can almost sound like a well-loved record. A tune that can’t quite find its sink– almost too rigid to hope itself melodic.
You listen to the same voice as it sings out the songs of your lessons. As he goes over the failed exam beat by beat. Explaining the first few questions in such simple terms anyone could understand them. Not in a way that felt condescending, no. Again, it just felt so warm that you couldn’t do anything but listen to him quietly. Absorbing everything without a single interruption.
Well, until question 7 at least. That is when you feel two synapses connecting in your brain reminding you of an ultra-important task that absolutely cannot be forgotten. A handshake. Your small hand cutting him off, reaching across the table without a second thought.
He stares at the pervasive hand as if it is something he’s never seen before. Never been offered in the first place. Something offensive to hurt rather than anything else.
Interesting.
“My dad always said you have to shake hands when you’re meeting someone. Or else it’s bad luck down the road. So…” You explain away simply, like it should be obvious to every person on the Earth. It should, honestly. But you’ve been told you have issues with thinking that way– that things obvious to you should be obvious to everyone else. That everyone else lives within the same bubble you’ve found yourself residing in your whole life.
You know it isn't true– that the bubble you’ve created is something you simply live in alone. Periphery finding itself resident to everyone else. But that’s awfully lonely, isn't it? You choose to think the former.
His shoulders slowly unfurl, defences slowly lowering as he meets your hand in the middle. Rough palm meeting yours, shaking slowly up and down before both sides pull away. A magnet short of attraction of two bodies as you pull away.
“Good.” You nod, pulling your knees up to hover off of the ground. Resting them against the edge of the table instead. “I don’t like bad luck either.”
There's a beat of silence, one that you don’t mind.
“Do you not like black cats then either?” His tone has an edge of pessimism to it. His defences considering a raise.
You, on the other hand, feel immediate offence. How dare he! “What?! Are you crazy! Or course I like them.”
You miss the crook of his lip into a light smirk, defences gone once more, “Well, normally they’re seen as bad luck…”
“That’s just a stereotype!” You instantly defend. Your body leaning over, moving your face closer to his.
He holds his arms up in defence, pencil still wedged between his fingers, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. My bad completely.” He lets out a quiet chuckle at the end, you only puff out your cheeks.
“Entirely.” You huff quietly, almost sounding like a petulant child, “I would never judge something just off of how they’re born.” At that, he almost perks an ear.
“Really?” He asks, his eyebrows slowly raising, “Not even hybrids?”
Ah, hybrids. A common discussion other people find themselves having, one that you never really found the purpose of. Arguments on their rights, the ethics of keeping them as pets, on if they should even be classified as intelligent life. You hated all of them. Didn’t understand for a second why people kept themselves concerned with class divisions or keeping others subservient at all.
As far as you care, they’re the same as humans. Think like humans, act like humans. Another creature just as deserving the right to live and exist as all others. You don’t concern yourself with the difference in their existence– seeing them, treating them the same as you would any other person.
You can’t stand that others find different opinions than yourself. Cutting them off entirely for treating another living, breathing creature with the capacity to think for itself as less. Reminding you desperately that you live on the periphery.
“No, why should I care.” You scrunch your nose up at the notion you’d think otherwise. He takes the action differently. “They’re the same as everyone else.”
You surmise your ideologies simply, though you’re never sure if your words construe correctly. His results are inconclusive as well, letting out a quiet grunt. Dropping the subject. Keeping his words from revealing what is true.
“What else is bad luck then?”
You don’t notice the quick subject change, “Walking under ladders, whistling in the woods, doing your laundry on a sunday. …I can’t imagine saying Bloody Mary in a mirror 3 times is much help either.”
He pauses for a second, his eyes just looking at you. They’re sharp things– knives against a grinder maybe. Could even be too sharp to be human, if you cared to look a little closer. Cared to notice the differences between you and him.
But you don’t, nor will you probably ever. Just allow him to shake his head simply, let him return to your test questions without a single other thought leaking into that brain of yours. Only this time, you feel comfortable enough to ask a few more questions. Let him delve more deeply into the work without the threat of your mind wandering off to useless things. Allow the clock to tick later, later, later into the night– moving from your exam, to the most recent concept your class has been working on. Carefully treading the water, staying afloat as you finally begin to understand.
You hate to admit it, you really do for the sake of your pride alone, but he really is a good teacher. He doesn’t seem upset when you ask questions– no matter how stupid you are. He stays calm whenever you start to get frustrated, carefully talking you through it instead of getting upset himself. He seems so peaceful you almost want to hate him for it.
Almost, because between the gentle instructions and messy handwriting as the hours tick late into the night, jokes begin to crack freely between both of your tongues. Gentle jabs that mean nothing, topics construing into obscurity flowing into something more entertaining to discuss.
Though– he did seem to have pause when you told him you don't trust fish. Something about them thinking they’re better than you– of which he agreed. Not that they’re better than you, of course not. But that yeah… they do seem to have that kind of look in their eyes.
He feels the same way about birds, you learned. Interesting.
It isn’t until midnight that he calls it, a time you didn’t even think was plausible. You thought it was 9:30, 10 at the latest! There’s no way midnight could have come so soon! Just the idea of it sounded fake. But then you checked the clock in the library, then your phone, and now you don’t know what to think.
Time has never flown so simply with another person.
“I told you I wasn’t lying.” He has that stupid smirk on his face, the one you’ve decided means he’s feeling cocky and amused.
“You could… you could have changed all of them when I wasn’t looking! To trick me?”
“Yeah.. mhmm.. And what would that do.. For either of us..?”
“. . . I haven’t gotten there yet.”
“Right.” He smiles, a real smile that shows off his gums. You can’t help but reflect a smaller one back at him.
Once again he moves first, standing after he’s collected all his belongings. Tossing his bag over his shoulder while you hurry to catch up. Sliding your laptop inside before making sure your pens know their correct homes in the case–
What was that?
It was something so subtle anyone could have missed it. A mouse scurrying between cases, a piece of trash floating by. Something brown moving quickly in the corner of your eye. Something you neglected to notice. How could you not notice something so obvious?
When you look up at him– finally take the man you’ve spent the night with in his entirety, you see it. You missed it while he was sitting down, obviously trying to keep the thing from view, but now there was no hiding it. It was impossible to hide the thick brown tail that hung behind him in such a relaxed posture you wonder if he forgot about it, too.
You couldn’t help the instant fascination as you took the form of it in. The pretty segments it appeared to be broken into– 5 if you counted them correctly, all stacked neatly upon one another. All leading to a stinger resting at the end, gently curled inward rather than held in defence.
The gentleness of the man himself contrasted so nicely with the firmness of the tail.
So pretty.
It was only then that he must’ve realised his mistake. Must’ve noticed your silence, followed your eye line to see exactly where it was laying. Realised that he let his guard down too quickly– understood too quickly that you didn’t already know about his… condition. His state of existence.
The professor must’ve not told you. Probably thought it was a negligible factor even though it never is. Maybe when he came in you missed it, you didn’t actually look up at him until he sat down anyway. Until his tail was already tucked deep under the chair for protection.
Without realising it, his tail raises. Curing behind his back, the tip looking even sharper than it normally does. Meanwhile his body tenses up entirely. Defence utterly encasing his form.
Fuck, and then your eyebrows are raising– and next you’re gonna start screaming and he’ll have to run so he doesn’t get taken in by hybrid services and–
“Can I touch it?” Your voice brings him back to reality, back from the ‘end-of times’ it found itself careening towards. Now he’s just, he’s just confused. Did you just ask him if you could touch it? Why aren’t you acting like he’s suddenly the scum of the earth? That’s how hybrids are treated anyway.
Even if you said otherwise earlier, that doesn’t mean much to someone who's never experienced otherwise.
“. . . oh… or maybe that’s rude. Forget it. Sorry.” You rush out instead, taking his appearance softly. Honestly, you don’t know much about what could be considered ‘rude’ to hybrids… you don’t have much experience with them at all, actually.
“You’re not…” He fumbles with himself, his tail remaining raised like a predator. He forces himself taller, forces himself to appear more together. More ready to ‘strike’-- figuratively. He clears his throat, “What, you have something you want to say?”
You cock your head back sharply, rising to your feet, “No, why would I?” You feel just as confused as him. Maybe asking to touch a hybrid’s parts is more taboo than you thought…
“Look I didn't mean any offence it was just pretty and–”
“Just fucking run off and report me if you’re going to–”
Both sentences are said at the same time from each party, the response mirroring exactly as well. Both faces twist into that of almost confusion and offence, upset that the other would dare say something like that for entirely different reasons.
“What are you talking about?” Your question comes from annoyance, almost anger that he would think you would do something as nasty as reporting him when he was just trying to live his life.
His comes from the simple word pretty. Why would you think his appendage was anything of the sort? The one thing his entire life that’s set him back– the very blood in his veins betraying him. The reason he can’t be accepted by normal people. The reason he has to take stupid night classes at this university with any professor that is actually willing to accept him. To accept his under the table payments.
The very reason he’ll never get a real job– just hope to be adopted by someone who will let him do what he wants. Just hope that the authorities don’t find him, or that his own landlord won’t turn him in before he can do that.
And you think it’s pretty? No fucking sane person would.
“Why would you think I’d report you?” Your tone is hurt, the pang in his heart hurting just as much. He hates that he feels it, and he hates that he wants to comfort you more than anything else. Stupid fucking scorpion genes.
“What else would you do?” He scoffs, crossing his arms.
“Literally nothing. I would do nothing.” You glare at him slightly, “I don’t care that you’re a hybrid, why would I?”
“Why wouldn’t you?” His tone is accusatory, but he doesn’t quite know what else to make it.
“Okay, let’s go down the list, yeah?” The spite in your tone lets the both of you know this night is taking a sour turn, “You can think, you can feel, oh right, you’re your own fucking person.”
You roll your eyes, “I know words don’t mean much, probably, but I view literally every creature as equal.” He still stands firm, your words and his life experiences battling in his mind. You sigh, this isn’t going anywhere. “Listen, I know it probably doesn’t mean much, and like, we both just met so I know it doesn’t hold much value. But I’m really sorry for whatever you’ve gone through in your life. It couldn’t have been easy. But I really, truly don’t care about whatever laws are in place. As far as I’m concerned, you’re equal to me.”
Your tone had gone soft, more gentle. Trying to dispel the hostility that hung fragrant in the air. But it looks like he can’t move. Doesn’t really know how after all of that. You probably wouldn’t either– though you’re not sure, you’ve never been good at putting yourself in other people's shoes. You just hope he believes you… that’s all you can do.
“I’ll head out first. You have my number, text me if you want to meet again.” You start towards the door, the ball left in the other man’s court. You wish you could’ve at least got his name first but.. He never introduced himself. Hmm, maybe you did the handshake too late, that’s why the bad luck kicked in.
“You think it’s pretty?” You almost don’t hear his words, too far away.
You turn your body back to face him, a gentle smile crocheted onto your lips, “Of course I do. Exquisite.”
The two of you stand in silence for a minute longer, trying to navigate the confusing energy moving between both of your forms. It’s only when you turn back around again to leave that he finally speaks. The simple word of his name.
“Yoongi.”
“Well, it was very nice to meet you, Yoongi.” You say softly, tilting your head to look at him once again, “I really do hope we can be friends.”
But that was years ago. Friends came and went; now you want so much more. More than you could ever quite articulate. You know it now as you sit with him, an after-chase ritual in whatever cheap roadside bar you can find. Never finding yourselves regulars, always on the move– save for the presence of each other.
“I don’t think luck is real, you know.” Yoongi drawls into your ear, the scent of alcohol heavy on his tongue. His body leaning against yours in the crowded bar, hair dancing against the side of your neck all while his tail finds itself curled around your back. A simple motion that could only be described as protective, possessive.
“What?!” You dramatically slap your hand against your mouth, an action you picked up from him. Alcohol inhibiting both of your minds only slightly, letting words flow a little easier than they otherwise might. Letting touch feel a little more commonplace.
An afterwork tradition, if you will.
“You’re insane!” You announce, slapping his shoulder playfully, “You’re gonna make bad luck get us Yoongi!! Take it back!”
Your voice is almost a whine, and he wants to fold because of it.
“You say that like you aren’t a stem major!” He laughs, his eyes shining like crescent moons you want to live on. Wait, does that even make sense?
“That doesn’t matter! We're like– the least scienc-y!! Our whole job is practically based on luck! Oh my god!” Now you’re stopping your foot a little, and his tail finds itself pulling you closer.
“Yeah, but you have no idea how many ladder’s I’ve walked under and you still say I have the best luck.” He giggles– fucking giggles!! Can you believe the audacity of this man?!
“Yoongi!! How dare you!! Do you know how many E5s’ you’ve cost us?! Probably like.. Like 20!”
“Mm, maybe yours just keeps it up for the both of us. Huh?” You humph, you fucking humph, and maybe– just maybe, Yoongi feels himself going a little insane. Forgetting himself– what you are meant to be to him.
“That’s the only plausible explanation… obviously…”
He hums, “Obviously.”
There’s a brief moment, a flicker in the air of something indescribable. Something that makes your skin feel a quiet, humble flame strumming under the surface. That makes you feel as if there's electricity pulsing through the space left between your noses. That makes you feel almost invincible as your eyes meet his warm brown tones.
You’ve come to love earthy hues since meeting Yoongi. He’s full of them, after all.
But, the flame of the match is blown out far too quick for you to truly comprehend what that moment was. Why it felt the way it did. Instead, your left sputtering with the absence of Yoongi, the slow withdrawal of his form.
“I’ll go get us more drinks.” His gravelly voice mutters just loud enough to hear over the music. You can only nod along, already missing the security of the tail curled around your back.
At least he isn’t so shy about it’s presence anymore. At least not like he was back then– trying to hide it, trying to make the rest of the world forget about it. You never understood why, no, how could you when you love it so much? Find it just another integral part of Yoongi for you to love.
You can even smile now, thinking back to how cute he got the first time he let you touch it. How he turned red to his ears, the chill that travelled down his spine. The flick of it as it chased after your hand when you retreated. It was too fucking cute back then… mm. Maybe that’s when you first started to grow a crush on the man.
Or maybe it was always how struck he was when you complimented him. Pushed it aside like it meant nothing, yet he always seemed a little out of it for the rest of your time spent together. You suppose Yoongi has always been reticent to your gaze; but then again, he was always aloof when it came to his feelings as it was. Nothing to dwell on, honestly.
You’ve never tried to hide your feelings– have never wanted to, really. You don’t think you even know how. But you’re not going to force them on him either. If he wants to act, the door has always been open. And it will remain open to him, probably forever.
“How’d the chase go this time?” A voice carries you from your head, your feet returning to the solid ground. Jisung, a fellow chaser finds himself in the seat next to yours– the seat Yoongi used to fill. A friend in the industry, you could say. Though, you take to thinking he probably wants more.
“Mmm… ‘bout as good as any other this late into the season…” You hum, taking a sip from your half-full glass, “Never as good around this time of year.”
Your sigh makes a gentle smile grow onto his plush lips, “Really? I thought you fell in love with every storm.” He lets out a quiet snort, swirling his own cup. His eyes seem to remain focused on you, though.
“Of course I do. Everyone is perfect and special!” You declare a smile stretching back, “However, like every caring mother, I do have favourites.”
“I don’t think– that’s not–” He laughs, “Aren’t parents not supposed to have favourites?”
“You really believe that Lie, Sung? Bold of you.”
“Well, do you have favourite pets?”
“Of course not!! How dare– okay, yeah. It’s the goldfish. His name is Guppie and he is my pride and joy. Named after my first love in elementary school~ imagine I let out a dreamy sigh here.”
His laugh makes your own come out as well, “Your first love was a… fish?”
“What, no?”
“They were named Guppie? … Like a fish…”
“Nickname, of course.” You giggle, girlish and cute.
“Do you give nicknames to everyone then?” He moves his face closer in wonder, excitement, “What’s mine? You have to tell me.”
You hum, tapping your chin in contemplation, “I don’t know ‘Sung, nicknames are reserved for extra special people in my life…”
“Ah!” He clutches his chest, looking down before popping his head up. Puppy dog eyes, “I’m not extra special? You wound me (Y/n)! You really do! And I really thought we had something, I can’t believe this.”
You laugh loudly at the dramatic act– emotions on the sleeve are so much more fun to display. You know he probably means none of it, but it’s still adorable. You can’t help but lean in closer, slapping his chest gently.
“Shh! Shh! You’re too loud! Too loud! You’re extra special!” The conversation is easy, just as it always is with Jisung. Though it isn’t the same– you can’t help but notice that fact. It feels easy, smooth… though like there is a wall in the way of true connection. Like there is a way you are meant to act. Just like there always is.
Always is with everyone but Yoongi.
It’s strange. But something you’ve grown attached to. Fond of.
He clears his throat behind you– think of the devil and he shall appear. Or however the saying goes. You’ve never been good with them, anyway. Your strengths and your faults, the simple facts have become all too aware of over time. Not that you mind them, of course. You just accept them as a fact of ‘you’. Just like your bubble, just like your impossible.
“Oh, hey!” Jisung is bright as always, giving a gentle wave to the man behind you.
“Poongie!” You smile, your inebriated mind already attempting to wrap itself around his torso. It’s not your fault you already missed him!
Jisung erupts in a fit of giggles, “Poongie?! That’s his?!”
“Yep! Mixture of Pookie and Yoongi. He loves it.” He certainly does, but he would never admit it. Actually, he feels kind of odd right now. More… stiff than he was before he left. Like something… darker? Is radiating off of him. Though, it’s not actually dark. Just kind of… displeased. You can't seem to find the right word.
“I can tell.” Jisung rolls his eyes, “He looks thrilled.”
That only seems to further upset the man, his tail slowly curling around itself on instinct. Moving to find purchase on your waist. To pull you closer. To claim you. Sober thoughts slipping into a drunk mind, his actions freer than he normally allows them to be.
Jealousy. That’s all he feels. Jealous that you just called someone who’s been openly hitting on you the entire season ‘extra special’. How fucking childish of him. He knows that even now, but he doesn’t want to stop. Everything that normally does feels as though they’ve gone into hibernation at this very moment.
He just wants you.
The next thing the Scorpion knows, he’s setting the drinks on the counter while you gaff away. Lifting you by your hips, sliding his form underneath yours with a grunt. Placing you on his lap and finally, making sure you’re secure to him with a hug of his tail around your midsection.
He almost feels proud at your little squeal of surprise. At the blush on your cheeks. That’s right. He’s the only special one to you. This other man– other predator should know it.
He knows he’ll regret this display in the morning. That he’ll feel utterly embarrassed by the whole thing. But right now Min Yoongi feels on top of the world.
“Yoongi! What are you doing!” You hiccup out in surprise, trying to turn to face him. But he holds you still, holds you secure. Holds you safe just like he always makes sure you are. Gives you a response only by the shrug of his shoulders, his chin finding purchase in the crook of your neck.
“W-well.. Fine then!” You huff, puffing out your cheeks just a little, “I’ll stay, but… just for a little! I’ll stay here for a little…” You grow a little quiet near the end, a little nervous. But you couldn’t feel more warm than in this moment. So heavenly.
Jisung only laughs, what else is he meant to do anyway? A small, petulant part of Yoongi was hoping he’d run for the hills– he would with such aggressive scent marking. But then again, the other man is a human, probably doesn’t know anything about such a thing.
The other part of Yoongi almost wants him to watch. Wants the other man to watch you drown in your own blush, watch as you learn more and more into the firm chest behind you. Feel the connection you two have that–
Oh, you’re laughing again too, what a pretty sound. The conversation picking up once again– Jisung is a conversationalist isn’t he. Yoongi almost wishes he was the same. Jealousy is an ugly emotion. It makes people do drastic things. It makes Yoongi want to do even more drastic things.
If only he was human.
If he was human he'd do so much more. Would have already done so much more. But now, in his current state of being, he couldn’t handle it. He wouldn’t be able to handle the rejection. He knows it. Knows it in the way mother’s comfort their children after one look at his tail, and knows it in the way you look at storms.
Yoongi isn’t a tornado. You would never look at him the same way you look at them. With such love and light in your eyes.
But god he wants you to, he wants you to more than anything. He wants to be an option. He wants to be the center of your universe just like those dumb fuck storms are. He wants to be the wind that plays with your hair, the rain that kisses your skin. He wants to be the very thing that envelopes your entire consciousness just like those storms do.
And maybe, just maybe if he presses himself close enough to you he can. He can pretend with the poison in his blood that you like him. He can be yours, even if it's only for a night.
He would always be yours. You never his’.
And as the night ticks on, venom bubbling up every second that ticks, he feels himself becoming looser. Feels you melting into his grip as pretty drinks and florals fill your mind. Feels your scent starting to overpower his nose as his mind blurs with thoughts of you. Almost feels the tangle of souls joining in the way he’s always wished them to.
“Yoonie..” You hum, fingers coming up loosely to move through his hair in a way they only do when the two of you are alone, “He went to get a drink, can let me go now…seats open.”
He almost feels annoyed at your words, and you can’t help but let the disappointment of them bubble, too. You don’t want him to let you go. In fact, you’d be happy staying like this forever. But you know Yoongi, you know he doesn’t like to be so… affectionate in public. He’s one to show his love quietly, something else you’ve come to find endearing over the years you’ve spent by his side.
Only, you don’t feel relieved movements like you expected to, no. While his arms go lax, his tail almost pulls tighter. The two sides of him fighting, arguing over what to do next. And next, next you feel something so warm. So soft against your neck that you don’t know what to do.
Lips. His lips are against your neck. A gentle press to the side of the column robbing you of your ability to breath, ability to think. Normal affectionate pecks are common, sure, when the two of you have spent too long reaserching and analysing the your brains are working a little slower than they normally do, they might even be seen as common. But this kiss, this kiss was slow. It was languid. It was so much more. Everything you’ve ever wanted.
“Have to?” His words are quiet, gruff. Lips moving against your neck as he talks. Spoken to you alone in the world, emboldened by the alluring mix of jealousy and alcohol.
You shake your head, much emboldened by the same. He never has to let you go.
“Good.” You feel your heart in your ears, ready to explode as he moves his arm back around you, back to your hip to hold you steady, “Mine.”
Neither of you ever expected that single, life altering word to ever leave his lips.
“Y-Yours?” You can’t help yourself, you need to make sure you heard him right. Needed to make sure this whole thing wasn’t a dream. That his lips, slowly kissing along the ridge of your shoulder are real and not a figment of your imagination.
Though he doesn’t say it again, doesn’t will himself to. Instead the sound you hear is something low, one you’ve never heard him use against you. A gentle growl lodged in the back of his throat, confirming it. Confirming everything for your head and your heart to hear.
“Yours…” You try again, tilting your head to the side, giving him more room. He hums in assurance, in want.
You think you could die happy.
The impossible. The impossible is claiming you for himself. Is holding the heart of the love struck college student, the nervous new-hire, the assured scientist all in the palm of his hand. Is confirming your affections. Confirming the fire brewing deep in your belly. The coals that have been slowly and tenderly cared for over time.
Yoongi and the storms– they’re both your impossible, your fate finding reality.
“Y-Yoongi I—” He tilts your chin, cutting you off mid sentence. Passion alight beneath the subtle glow of amber that robs you of your words. Lets you know exactly what you need to. Makes the fire burst into flames as his fingers gently dig into your hip, makes your entire body heat as he rubs in gentle circles.
“I don’t like him.” He grunts, letting his forehead rest against yours, “Keeps you from me.”
“No one can keep me from you.” The reply is instant, your lips barely missing his. “You’re for me.”
God, and at that moment you know that the prettiest noise in the world is Yoongi’s quiet groan. The way his eyes close, the way he practically pulls you down into his lap sends you into overdrive. The way he slowly rolls his own up is enough to send you into a puddle of your former being.
The rest of the world is gone, entirely melted away from reality. Now, now it’s just you and Yoongi. Cornered away from the rest of the bar, out of sight. Out of mind. Just his hands slowly moving your hips to be seated on just one of his thighs, his tail making sure you’re secure. Just your scent driving him crazy.
He can tell how wet you already are. He can tell how much you want him, just as he wants you.
The contact is rough, a little maddening. His jeans pressing up against yours, the thin cotton of your panties not doing much to stop the harsh heat. But you don’t want it to stop. You want him to do whatever he wants.
“You’re wet.” He isn't shy to admit it. Isn’t shy to admit the smell invading his nose. Isn’t shy to let you know exactly what it’s doing to him with the rock of your hips. Letting you feel something hard pressed right against your back.
“Shut up…” You instantly complain, whining as you lean your back against his chest, further into his touch. He cracks a soft smile at your words, rocking you back and forth so slowly, so carefully. Letting you feel every flex of the muscle, every rough movement of the jean against your clit. Savouring every second now that the threat of the other man has dissipated. Taking his time in case all of this is a dream and he will have to give you up tomorrow.
“Why? Not cute when I say it?” He chuckles, jumping his leg slightly off the ground, sending a wave through your body. A shock of pleasure to the system that has a gentle moan tumbling from your lips. That has your hips sending a gentle buck back. That has your brain feeling as though it might become mush.
Yoongi is going to be the death of you, you’re sure of it.
“Hey guys I…” Yoongi’s eyes find Jisung before your own do. Before the flushed expression on your face can quell and certainly before you can find a coherent thought. And suddenly the lazy foreplay in the corner of the bar is gone. Suddenly Yoongi is no more than an animal once again.
“O-Oh! Jisung! S-sorry let me just–” You try, but there isn’t any use. No, Yoongi is pissed you even said his name. Pissed you tried to move away from him. Why would you try to move away from him? A predator with his m– prey being stolen right out from under him. A predator that has everything to gain and everything to lose.
Yoongi isn’t thinking anymore as he stands, just barely keeping you upright as he pulls you away. Grabs your hand and leads you to the bathroom, locks the door once you’re both inside.
Sanity is no longer present. Only the jealousy he feels inside. Only annoyance at the other man for trying to take you away from him. You said he was yours, that he was made for you. And the other predator dared try to take you? Take you from him when you were about to share something so sweet?
Yoongi knows he isn’t thinking right. Knows he might regret it in the morning– but he also knows if he doesn’t do something now he’ll regret it even more. For once, for once in his life he wants to be selfish. For once in his life he wants to forget he can’t ever have you because he’s a hybrid. For once he just wants you.
You’d let him have you. Over and over again. For the rest of your lives.
“Yoongi what are you–” He cuts you off with his lips against your own for he doesn’t know the answer. He’s letting himself just exist for once. Exist in the way he wants to without care. And all he wants right now is to kiss you.
You couldn’t want anything more. Have been waiting your entire life to feel the press of his lips against your own. Kiss him back without a second thought– without reprieve. Let your mouth slip open easily for him, let everything get as messy as he wants.
The time for gentle foreplay is over. No, now is the time to consume.
Without a second thought he lifts you by your hips, your hands falling into place against his shoulder. Letting him lead, letting him take control as he fits his body against yours with such perfect harmony. Nobody would doubt you’re two pieces of the same puzzle, ready to fit together for the rest of eternity.
He groans when he feels your hips press against his, as he feels your heat seep through layers of clothing. Cusses when he finally pulls back, sees the saliva collected at the corner of your lips. The hazy look in your eye that tells him you need him just as much as he needs you. That you want him so terribly you can’t help but fall against him for love, for safety.
It’s just the alcohol.
Yoongi practically growls at his own thoughts, his tail rising in defence, in defiance against his own brain. Forcing the thoughts away, forcing everything away other than your body in the room. Other than your desire in the room.
When his mind is no longer clouded he can come to terms with all of this, come to terms with his feelings and shove them so far back down they’ll never see the light of day– but now, right now he needs this. Needs it more than anything.
“Want you.” He grunts, his knees falling onto the dirty bathroom floor. His hands splay against your thighs, feeling them. Worshipping the skin as if it is an altar. As if you’re his religion. “Can I?”
He doesn’t have to ask, he doesn’t need to. He would never have to ask you. Every single time you’d fall for the storm that is Min Yoongi. Over and over again. As if it’s as easy as breathing, as easy as thinking.
The answer is even easier now– as your heart beats in your ears, as arousal pools in your gut. As his blunt fingernails dig themselves ever so slightly into your flesh, begging for entry. Begging for you to just give in. His cheeks a flush, his hair already a wreck. His chest rising and falling and thinking just for you.
He looks like a god.
“W-want you.” Your stutter makes you feel meak, but his groan of approval makes you feel strong. Makes you feel like your bubble has been popped, like the world finally has meaning past tornados and cataclysms.
He takes your approval without any grace. Without a second to even think before he’s pulling your pants down with such hunger, such carnal need. His throat releases a groan of desire as your scent hits him at full force, as you give yourself to him.
He can’t help himself as he presses his face against your panties, his nose right against your clit as he inhales. Takes in all of you for himself. Lets himself be greedy.
“Y-Yoongi!” You squeak in surprise, the noise tapering into a whine. How could he do something so embarrassing! What is wrong with–
You can’t even finish the thought before his fingers pull your panties to the side, his eyes focused directly on your wet, needy cunt. “Smell good.”
If you weren’t entirely red before, you certainly are now. There is no way you couldn’t be. Not with the hunger in his eyes. The fire in your belly.
His tongue darts out, licking your pussy directly without a second thought. Parting your lips, collecting your arousal on his tongue. Tasting you, basking in everything you. Listening to the pretty little moan that comes from your parted lips. Falling apart without a second thought.
And suddenly he’s hungry. Hungrier than he’s ever been in his entire life. Hungry in a way that he’s sure can only be satiated by you. By making you his.
“Fuck, (Y/n)...” He almost sounds more affected than you are, like he could cum from your taste alone. But he can’t, he won’t let himself. He wants, needs to be inside of you more than everything. Needs to fuck you, consume every part of you like he so selfishly craves.
“Gotta get you ready…” He’s talking to himself more than to you as he stands again, trying to keep himself from succumbing to the scorpion screaming at him to just claim you as his. He can only be selfish for tonight. This night. “You gonna be quiet for me? Can’t get caught.”
“Please…” Your voice is practically a whimper, practically begging him to just do something, anything. And who is he to deny you of such simple pleasures? Especially when you whine just for him, moan just for him. Jut your hips out ever so slightly to present yourself just to him.
His thumb finds your clit almost instantly as you call out to him. Rubbing circles into the bundle of nerves with quick, fast precision while another digit presses against your leaking hole. Preparing you, getting you ready for the intrusion.
Your voice is a siren’s song, and Yoongi then knows why pirates used to get lost at sea. Used to become entrapped by the mermaids that sang for them. He feels himself going crazy now, as your head tilts back. As your cunt flutters around nothing, begging him to slide his finger inside just as you both desperately crave.
A buck of your hips is all he needs to fuck the digit inside, trusting it in and out slowly. Making sure it goes as deep as it can before curling and slowly retracting. Increasing pace with the volume of your sounds, with the circle of your clit. Combining sensation, driving you further and further into the clouds with every movement.
It is then you know that his hands are a deadly poison, one you know you will fall apart to. Especially with the gentle sounds of his grunts, with the push of a second finger into your hole. With his heated gaze focused on nothing but how well you’re taking him, how you’re stretching so prettily around his fingers.
You place your hand over your mouth, try to keep your moans to a minimum. Try to suppress every little sound that threatens to spill past your lips. Yet you can’t help it, how could you when he knows exactly where to curl his fingers? When they press right against that little bundle of nerves inside. When they rub against you so perfectly.
“Y-Yoongi!” You accidentally shout, your hips bucking in surprise. The band growing tighter and tighter in your lower abdomen. Your eyes clouding with pleasure as your head feels lighter and lighter.
He only smirks, gentle and sinful. “Found it.”
He thrusts his fingers back in the exact same way, their pace hurried. Concise. Locating that exact same spot over and over again, curling his fingers up just right. Timing the strokes perfectly with a roll of your clit. You feel like you could scream, you’re going to scream.
“Y-You’re so mean!” You whimper, the hand on your clit moving to hold your thighs down. To resist your messy bucking. Resist your adorable begging for more. This other thumb moving to press against your clit instead.
Then you see it, see the pretty brown thing that had you so enamoured to begin with. Remember just how sensitive it was when you touched it first, and just how mean he’s being to you now.
With all the clarity you have left in your little brain you reach for his tail, hold it in your tiny hands. Whimper at how big it is, how strong it feels. How much it protects you. And without a second thought, you wrap your lips around the tip of it and moan. Using it as a gag, using it to stop your cries.
Yoongi suddenly tenses below you, his entire frame shifting as your mouth sucks on the tip. Your eyes closed in concentration, little tears bubbling up in the corners as you whine around him. Fully focused on your pleasure, the feeling of his fingers inside of you– so close to falling apart.
He thinks he could cum at that second. He’s sure of it.
A choked groan leaves his own lips as his fingers resume their pace, his senses going into overdrive. No longer thinking, no longer able to do anything but act. But take and take and give and give until there's nothing left.
And god he wants to burn this picture into his brain. Wants to cement it into the rest of his thoughts, his very being. His movements are messier, faster as he fucks his fingers into your cunt. Doesn’t care about the noise as his tail moves on its own, slowly thrusting in and out of your mouth. Your g-spot battered, you clit burning with pleasure.
Sounds that resemble words fall deaf on your tongue as the band finally breaks, as the world around you spins. As you find euphoria from Yoongi’s fingers. The eye of the storm befalling your very being as electricity moves down your spine as the winds subside.
You’re left panting in front of him, your walls tightening as he slowly coaxes you through it. Helps you feel every ounce of pleasure that you deserve. Kisses your shoulder gently, softly, watching you come down from your high.
You can only whine at the affection, the fog lifting for a brief second as he slowly pulls his fingers out of you. You feel so empty– too empty. You still want him. You still want so much more.
You try to say his name, try to vocalise but it only sends vibrations down his tail. A groan leaving his lips, heat still heavy in his eyes. You realise his tail is still moving, still slowly moving in and out of your mouth. You know he isn’t finished.
You know you never want him to be.
You raise your leg up, kicking, trying to push his pants down. Begging them to just drop a little lower. To get his cock out so he can fuck you properly. So he can make you feel so much more full of everything him.
He lets out a chuckle of a scoff, his bangs falling in front of his eyes as he shakes his head, “Needy.” He grunts, yet he feels the exact same way. Removing his tail from your mouth, finally letting you speak. Ignoring the way his heart hammers at the sight of your puffy, glossed lips.
“Shut up.” Is the only reply you can muster, hands quickly moving to try and shove his pants down. To try and get him inside of you. He just smiles, the predatory glint never leaving his eyes. The dig of his nails never leaving your thigh.
Finally, with your messy attempts you urge them down, force the annoying material down his thighs, his boxers moving right along with it. And fuck, you can’t help but gawk. Can’t help but whine because shit, you’ve never seen a cock so pretty! What the hell! That isn’t fair! None of this is fair and he hates you!
“You hate me.” You whimper, letting him take the lead once again. Following as he slowly leans you back, manoeuvres your hips in exactly the way he wants. Presents your puffy, fluttering cunt just for him. Messy and aching, desperate for more.
“Maybe.” He smiles, teasing you. He’s teasing you! Can you believe that! You certainly can’t, a whine and a gentle smack to his chest telling him everything he needs to hear. Yet you’re forgetting about it all too quickly as you feel the head of something hard gently press against your lips.
In your hazed stupor, you completely missed the action. The way he gripped his cock in his hands, the languid strokes he’s made up and down the length. The way he flicked his thumb over the head just before he decided to so sinfully trace it along your slit. Teasing himself, tracing around your hole with the head. You think he might kill you.
He thinks much of the same.
“I’m on birth control.” You messily squeak out of the blue, eyes trained between your bodies where he’s so close. So very close to fucking himself inside. Into being exactly where you want him. Snapping that final line you two could never come back from.
His eyes dart up to your face, something dark in the iris. Something neither of you address as he finally lets go of his last bit of reserve. As his lips slam into yours, consuming your very being.
His hand finds your leg, pulling it up, resting it against his hip to draw you closer. In one single thrust drawing all the air out of your lungs, removing all thoughts from your head as he thrusts his entire length inside. Filling you, stretching you in the most perfect way. In a way you never imagined another person could do.
Your cries are drowned by his lips, his own curses lost in the same. The stretch, the burn is subtle, yet you could never want anything less. Anything more than the euphoric feeling of Yoongi feeling your ever being.
“Shit…” He finally lets himself breathe, let himself have a moment to feel you. Feel your plush walls wrapped around his length, feel you fluttering around him so perfectly. You’re going to make him insane.
He pants softly, trying to wait– trying to hold himself back from fucking you so hard you can’t walk. So hard he’ll have to carry you out of this shitty bar. So that everyone will know what the two of you did. Just who you belong to.
You give an experimental wiggle of your hips, a signal to move. A signal to stop holding back. The only signal that he needs.
“Yoongi!” The cry is loud, but he can’t seem to care anymore. The pace he takes is anything but slow. It's fast, hard. Rushed. Like he can’t wait a single second longer. Can’t waist a fucking millisecond doing anything else other than laying claim to your soul.
His hips snap against your own, his cock practically hitting your cervix with every thrust. His cock pressed against that same bundle inside every time he draws back, every time he fills you again and again. It’s messy– messy and so wet. So perfect.
“Fuck, fuck.” He mutters to himself, damp hair falling into his eyes, “Have to be quick, gonna fuck you hard, okay?”
He drawls, scratchy. Rough. Pressing his hips fully against yours, fully feeling your slick heat. The lewd noises bouncing against the walls, filling the space. Sending a symphony into your strumming ears. Into your already worn out frame.
You nod in agreement quickly, almost dumbly as you try to fall into a rhythm. Try to meet his movements the best you can. It feels pointless, all of it does. Trying to do anything feels so pointless when he’s fucking you so relentlessly. Like he’s waited his entire life for this moment and he’d rather die than waste another second.
Fucking you like it means something. Like you mean everything.
“Shit, (Y/n). So fucking wet.” He groans, his head rolling back, no longer able to look at the mess between your legs, “So needy.”
You whine, shaking your head. Trying to gain a semblance of reality when it feels like it has been shattered in the most beautiful way.
“Sh-Shut up!” You whine, your walls clenching around his cock, “A-Am! Am not!”
Your denial sends a wave of something through Yoongi. Something that makes him growl, that makes his sight darken just a bit more.
“You’re not?” He scoffs, his eyes finding your own, reading you like an open book, “Little fucking liar.”
His pace changes, taking shape into a different beast entirely. Something new. His thrusts turn from messy, hurried to sharp and precise– the pace never changing. Every single thrust knocking the wind from your lungs, changing the very shape of your DNA to scream for him and only him.
“Y-Yoongi what the fuck?!” You whine, your head knocking back, hitting the glass behind you. Even more of your brain cells scrambling, trying to stay in reality. Trying not to float off in the great beyond where Yoongi wants you to stay.
“Hmm?” He grunts, his eyes focused back downwards. Right to where your slick coats him, to where a pretty white ring has formed around the base. He won’t last long. Even if he wants to keep fucking you forever, he knows he’s done for. “Thought you weren’t needy.”
You whine, unable to stop the band from pulling tight in your gut once again. Unable to stop the pleasure from coursing through your veins. Already a wreck– your body warm with sweat and your hole fluttering uselessly around him. Trying to draw him back in over and over.
Never get him to leave.
His voice is suddenly in your ear, far closer than you remember him being. Far closer than you can manage him being. Fuck, and now his thumb is pressing against your clit again. You don’t know what you can do, what to do.
“You can cum if you just admit it, human.” You’re going insane. “Tell me how fucking needy you are for me. C’mon, do it. I know you can.”
It’s over for you. You had no clue Yoongi could ever be like this, no clue just how much you’d want it. How much you’d love it. Even as tears bubble in the corners of your eyes from the pleasure, even as your hips buck up weakly to meet his thrusts. As his cock makes you feel like you’re about to enter the pearly gates.
You know you love it.
“Y-Yoongi!” You whimper, your hands gripping his shoulders with so much strength you think they might bruise. Hell, you’re sure he’s bruised your hips. There isn’t much difference. “I-I!”
“Mhmm..” He hums, sounding entirely unaffected on the surface, yet it’s clear he’s falling apart just as much as you. Clear in the way his hips stutter so slightly, losing their pace. Clear in the way he holds you tighter and tighter. The way his tail curls possessively around your leg. “You can do it. Say it, human.”
“I-I’m needy!” You whine, forgetting your volume, “I-I need you, Yoongi!”
Just like that, he’s tumbling off the edge. Your words acting as an anchor, as the very thing he’s wanted to hear for years. His hips stuttering inside of you, filling your cunt with his cum without a second thought.
“Cum, pretty thing.” His voice is guttural. A command as your legs lock around him. His thumb never giving your clit reprise. while he doesn’t stop the movement of his thumb. Your own release finding you the second you feel his cock twitch inside of you, the moment you feel his cum leak inside.
Winds swirl at your very being. Lifting you higher and higher into the clouds as your walls clench around him. Milking him for everything, for all he’s worth. Making sure every drop lands inside, making sure you stay nice and full of him while your head wanders into the clouds. While every bit of your being feels fireworks.
Your legs don’t even let go as the two of you slowly begin to calm down. As your heart rates try to return to normal and air returns to your lungs. As Yoongi’s length slowly begins to soften inside of your cute, worn little cunt.
You don’t want to let go. You never want to let go.
His grip slowly softens on your hip. Thumb working to rub slow, gentle circles in their place. His lips finding the column of your throat once more– gentle, nipping kisses find home over the marks he left while sitting at the bar. Not any real bonding marks like his scorpion may have wanted, but pretty red things that claim your skin in a human way.
Your fingers find his strands, knotting themselves in them. Keeping his head where it belongs. You’ve never felt more loved, more wanted in this moment.
You never want it to end.
“Needy…” He smiles to himself, shaking his head softly. His hair tickles your ear. “Can’t believe you actually said it.”
“Y-you!” You try, realising how severely you’re still out of breath. You hate how quickly he’s bounced back. “You made me! You ass!”
He only smiles, shaking his head. Still in complete and utter disbelief that this is real, “I wanted to hear it. You were cute.”
Your legs finally relax when you whine. They easily fall on either side of him, kicking slightly in petulance as he pulls away from your cunt. Removing himself from you, smiling as his cum starts to collect at your opening.
This still all has to be a dream for him, it has to be.
“You hate me!” You repeat again, warmth coming to your cheeks once more as his hands find your cunt. One thump pulling your lip open, letting him see just how much of a mess he’s made you. Letting him watch as his cum drips from your core.
“Maybe.” He can’t help the fond glow in his eyes as he kisses your cheek. A thought coming to the forefront of his brain that he forces back. Another thought he could never let surface, not even now as you’re stuffed with his cum.
His scorpion still preens all the same, though. Filled with thoughts of kids. Thoughts Yoongi, the human, not the scorpion, would never say aloud. Drunk, tipsy, or sober.
He reaches for the dispenser, grabbing a few paper towels before turning on the sink and running them under. Not the best tool, but it will do.
“Well, I don’t hate you…” You’re blushing as you say the words, almost embarrassed without real reason to be. What you just did, it was so much more than ‘I don’t hate you.’ At least, it wasn’t to you. You hope it wasn’t for him either.
You help him with his pants, reaching your hands down and pulling them up slowly for him, “I don’t hate you either.” He rolls his eyes, gently cleaning the space between your legs.
“Awkward if you did.” You huff, lifting your hips as he moves your underwear back in place. Stay hovering as he slides your jeans back up as well.
He leaves a gentle press against your temple, offering you a hand as you hop off the counter. Hips and legs already entirely too sore, a whine shedding your throat as you let him know the pain. All while he only laughs, patting your butt as he helps you walk.
The picture of domesticity.
Neither of you address the elephant in the room, both for entirely different reasons. For radically different realities. The morning would be better anyway, you surmise. With fluid thoughts and no liquor in your system.
You assume Yoongi feels the same way as you both walk home. Gentle shoulders and banter thrown around as casually as ever. The only solid thing the both of you know: you can never go back to that bar again.
God, your fucking head hurts. Maybe?? Maybe everything hurts? When the hell did the sun get so loud?! Since when did light feel like fucking screaming, man?! This isn’t fair! Nothing is fair and the world hates you! Exclusively you, and no one but you!
No, that’s not true. That’s completely illogical, actually. But you can’t find it in yourself to care. Especially when your head is buzzing and your stomach is already growling for some kind of food.
Oh god, food would be so good right now. Warm steamy pancakes, eggs, some kind of potato with a dash of Yoongi to eat it with like you do every morning.
Suddenly, the other side of the bed feels entirely too cold. Freezing. A void empty where the warmth you felt last night should reside.
He fell asleep there, you're sure of it. You remember the feeling of his arms around you, the soft snores that left his lips after you both stumbled into bed. Barely getting undressed before falling into your bed. You remember everything about last night. So much so that you can’t help the heat that rises to your cheeks at the memory. The thought of everything done in that dingy bathroom, all the words spoken, the care professed.
Even if you were tipsy, you would never forget it. You would never regret it. Were waiting to wake up in his arms to make everything official– a long overdue conversation that would finally set in motion your lives together.
So where the hell is he?
A pout forms on your lips as you stretch, your body too tight for the morning and even more so for your search. The soreness in your hips, the bruises he left from his grip a brutal reminder of his absence as you sit up, your eyes squinting as you scope the scene.
You don’t think you like what you see– it’s a weird feeling, honestly. His bag is gone, his shoes are gone, his clothes are gone. For the first time in all the years you’ve known him, he feels utterly gone. Not a speck of him in your room, not a single sign he was even on this trip with you.
Does he regret…
The frown pulls deeper as you reach for your phone. You definitely don’t like this feeling. Like he wasn’t even there to begin with after everything that just happened.
“Ah, stop it.” You say to yourself, one of your hands coming up to gently pat your cheek. You hate where your brain is going so quickly. Maybe you’re just a sop that needed more aftercare than he knew about– yeah, that's probably it. He probably just wanted to go back to his own room and shower before you had to work today. See, that makes much more sense, doesn’t it? You nod your head, almost in agreement with your thoughts. Set on your decision, on the most-likely-possible solution.
[9:27am] To: Poongie
> Goodmorning :> I hope you slept well
> Did you wanna go get breakfast at the diner? I think I’m dying and only hashbrowns can fix me unfortunately
You wish you could say you weren’t affected– wish you could say you weren’t sitting there, waiting for a response. Heart beating out of your chest like a schoolgirl in love. It’s silly, isn’t it? What emotions can make you feel inside and out. How they can seem to affect every part of your being without even trying.
You suppose storms are the same way. Suppose all natural forces are– the sun, the moon, the stars. They all have their own cosmic power that distils someone at their very core. Leaving them waiting, abating in agony over a simple text back from the man you like.
You toss your phone to the side, choosing to get ready instead of imagining anymore fantasies. You live in reality, a woman of science. There’s no sense in trying to explain everything you feel, only accepting that you feel it.
Mmm. As you get dressed, you wonder how long you’ll be able to go on like that for.
[10:02] From: Poongie
> gm
> i already ate
Oh. You don’t like that. In fact, you hate it so much you want to start making a powerpoint presentation on how to text just for him. But, you give him the benefit of the doubt once more. Yoongi has never been a good texter, anyway. You’re lucky if you can get more than a two word reply from him. He prefers phone calls.
[10:03] To: Poongie
> So u hate me okay
> Come sit with me tho, I don’t want to look like a loser
> Meet me down there in 5 ;P
You give a soft smile as he reacts to your final text with a thumbs up. It doesn’t leave you feeling the best, but he’s not avoiding you entirely. And he never has been a morning person. Plus, he’s probably hungover too and doesn’t wanna look at his phone screen. You two are fine and last night was amazing. And soon you could make everything official.
Your smile grows. Yeah. Yeah, that all makes perfect sense.
You know what doesn’t? A lot of things, actually. Too many to count, but you try anyway.
One.
Yoongi walking in 10 minutes late acting like nothing happened. Like you didn’t happen. Just sliding into the seat across from yours, the thick plastic of the booth squeaking while he does so. His hands stuffed in his pants, nothing but a nod in your direction to acknowledge your existence. His face utterly blank, entirely neutral.
Never once has Yoongi greeted you with less than a gummy smile. A ruffle of your hair. A jab at your tired appearance. But you ignore it– ignore the sense of unease, of dread already building inside. He must really have a bad hangover, poor guy.
“Goodmorning!” You chirp brightly, a smile of a thousand suns cast in only his direction. Your usual greeting, of course. Maybe just a little extra chipper to balance him out. To try and prepare yourself, maybe to get a little excited for the conversation to come. Pull him out of any awkward tension he may be feeling.
“Goodmorning.” He simply replies back, his eyes following the waitress as she places a cup of coffee, extra sweet, in front of him. His usual order. Something you’d never forget. Something he knows you’d never forget, but the way he stares into the warm liquid says otherwise.
His eyes never stray from the cup, like he's thinking. Like he wants to say something but doesn’t quite know how. Like he isn’t sure whether to ignore it or bring it to light.
You know that look well, and you don’t want to ignore it.
Two.
He calls the waitress back and orders another coffee. Black.
He hates his coffee black. You know this. Everyone does. He hasn’t had the stuff since before he met you. You opened him to the world of how delicious sweet drinks can be. So why the hell is he planning on pretending to like something he doesn’t? It makes no sense to you– your expression shows it all. Eyebrows quirking together, lips pushing outwards slightly.
“Wow, the great Min Yoongi is changing up his order?” A creature of habit never does, you would know yourself, “Hangover that bad?”
You try to lighten the mood, raise the cloud that hangs above the booth. Or maybe it’s a cloud only you feel, you’re not sure. It doesn’t matter anyway, does it?
“Mmm, you could say that.” He grunts, his chin tucking ever so slightly to his chest. His tail curling closer. Almost defensive. Almost.
“God yeah,” The conversation feels stunted, and you hate that even more. “My head has been throbbing since I woke up. I don’t know if I drank too much or not enough.” The banter isn’t flowing as easily, and he curls in on himself even more. Almost like the mere mention of last night rings alarm bells in his mind.
Oh! Okay, yeah. Maybe he’s just nervous about everything that happened, you know? Maybe he’s worried that you don’t remember, or that you’re having different feelings about it. Maybe his brain is playing the same tricks on him that trickled into your consciousness that morning!
Yeah, okay. That makes so much more sense now that you think about it. You have to stop beating around the bush, just come out and say everything you think. Everything you feel and you can talk about it. You’ll just bring it up– he obviously isn’t going to, but then you’ll be in a relationship by the time your pancakes come out! Perfect!
Yet as you look up at him, find his face utterly void of anything, your confidence wanes.
Three.
He’s refusing to look at you. Another thing he never does. You’re always the one to avoid eye contact, never him. You’re always the one to stare out the window, not him. He normally looks at you. Normally basks in you.
You feel your mouth drying, all words becoming lost on your tongue the longer you stare at his disposition. You don’t break it as the silence becomes awkward, as he doesn’t try to do anything to fix it. Simply sips at his coffee. His disgusting coffee.
Drinks it until it empties. Until the pancakes now in front of you remain nearly untouched and cold. Until the world stops spinning and time freezes. As the comet hits and the world ends. As society descends into chaos yet you can’t do anything but look at him.
Okay, maybe you’re exaggerating. But that’s exactly how it feels for some strange reason. How it feels to be unable to reach him.
It isn’t until he grabs his coat, sliding $30 across the table that you finally gain the courage to speak. Finally blurt out the words sitting on the tip of your tongue for the last 20 minutes.
“We should talk about last night.” You didn’t expect to say anything honestly, shocked at the air leaving your lungs.
And finally, finally he looks at you. The diner is still frozen, yes, but now he’s looking at you and for some reason that’s all that matters.
A deep drag of air fills his lungs as he sags his shoulders, rigid disposition weakening in attempt to show signs of aloof. His tail gives everything away. Sharp and pointed. Unnerved.
“What is there to talk about?”
Oh.
“What?” You feel blood leave your face, “Everything. There’s everything to talk about.”
He sighs, his eyes almost rolling at your words. Everything he does is ten times louder. Ten times greater than any storm, any power in the entire universe.
Four.
“Listen, (Y/n). Last night was a mistake, okay?”
Oh.
Is it possible for the Earth to stop rotating around the sun? For the moon to find home in another planet? Is it possible for the rings of Saturn to disband, to crack and shatter, leaving the planet feeling hollow? No more than a gaseous ball floating around an unyielding core forcing it to stay together?
It has to be. Because if it’s possible for Yoongi to say those very words, say the very words that are able to rip your soul from your body, you think anything is.
You feel something in you crack. Something so fragile and innocent that you want to protect it with your everything. Run far and hide. Nurse it alone until it stops kicking and screaming for its unending pain to yield. For it to have rest in a world that only seems to take and take and take.
“What?” You don’t even care that your voice cracks.
He sighs again, his gaze dropping to the table. “I just don’t think there’s anything to talk about, okay?”
“There’s a lot to talk about.” Your eyebrows crinkle, your mouth moving into a frustrated frown. Red isn’t a colour you feel often, but your walls are up. Your bubble now a sphere frozen in time– a place with room for no one but you. Your body curled around that innocent glow. Protecting it. Keeping it warm. “For one, calling it a mistake.”
He’s rigid again too, maybe red glowing around his form as well. But you can’t seem to care. Not right now. Maybe not ever. Not able to sense the danger. The tail pointed in your direction. Venom dripping from his lips.
“Wasn’t it? We’re friends (Y/n). One stupid night shouldn’t change that shit.” It changes fucking everything. Especially with your pining. Especially with your heart on your sleeve. With your affections for him always oh-so-fucking obvious.
“Like hell it–” He cuts you off.
“We’re done with this conversation. Just forget last night ever happened.” He stands, not planning on waiting around anymore. Not waiting for you anymore. “Just act like it never did. Nothing has to change. We’re not talking about this anymore.”
With that he leaves without letting you speak. Without letting you talk. Shutting you down entirely in a way he never has before. In a way he promised he would never do to you. And for the first time since you discovered your crush on him, you feel something negative simmering for Min Yoongi.
Q/Hybrids_Humans
U/YGS_Min • posted 5y ago
Can Hybrids and Humans actually fall in love? -> Advice
> Hi. I’m new to this page so I might get things wrong with this post. Sorry in advance if I do.
> I am a Hybrid and I recently met a girl who I think is my mate. I get all the classic mate feelings someone does when I’m around her. When we first met, a few days ago in the library, I automatically felt a pull towards her. Like I needed to be close to her. Everything in my body, my hybrid side especially, was begging for me to make her my mate right away. She even complimented my tail. Does she even know what that means? What it did to me?
> After that, she gave me her number (I’m helping her with a few things) (we're both ‘in’ college) and I haven’t been able to stop thinking about her. Whenever I open my phone my brain automatically fries and moves to open her contact so I can text or call her. It actually feels a little crazy.
> She said she wants to be friends and I don’t know what my brain is going to do if we actually get closer.
>The issue is that she's human, though. So I already know she doesn’t feel the same way about me. She doesn’t feel the bond or the pull to get closer. And she already knows I’m a hybrid so there’s no way to avoid it.
> I’m also not the most friendly Hybrid, I guess. People don’t like my species. My mom doesn’t even like the way I was born. And I’m lucky enough to get away from where I was before and am living my own life now. Trying to do good things with it. Maybe be human with it, I don’t know. It doesn’t matter anyway.
> Point is, I’ve looked online and while I know legally it is possible to be mates with a human, I haven’t found anything about Human’s with more odd species. And I really just want to know if this could be possible, or if I should give up before things even start. She’s the prettiest person I’ve ever seen. Her mannerisms kill me– I love them. She’s so cute. And she acted like I was just like everyone else.
> I don’t know. I want her to be my mate. But I just want to know other peoples experiences. I know she’d never be able to love me in the way I automatically do her, but if I told her she was my mate would she feel forced into it? Would she feel like I actually care? Could she ever actually care? Should I do anything about it or just pretend that it was never there in the first place?
> I never thought my mate might be human. I never thought I'd find my mate. Any advice would be appreciated. Thanks.
6 am.
Yoongi isn’t sure if he’s slept. He’s not sure he’s ever slept with the exhaustion weighing on his bones. His consciousness. His very being. In fact, all he’s had is his thoughts as the hours have ticked by, unrelenting. Unwavering. As the sun starts to shine through the curtains and the reality of everything that transpired rushes to the surface. Past the alcohol. Past your adorable soft snores.
He had you. He fucked you. For one night, you belonged to him.
The first thing he felt after he held you in bed was peace. Complete and utter satisfaction with life, with you. Everything itching at him, pulling him towards you was, for once, content. He no longer felt the burning in his heart or the pulling at his skin to get you closer. The fuzziness in his brain whenever you smiled. All of it was gone. There was nothing but happiness in his being.
Nothing but the ideas of his dream being true. Of getting to hold you like this every night. Getting you to smile for him, only him. Getting to belong to you in ways humans could never understand.
In ways you could never understand.
Something else starts creeping into his consciousness, then. Something starting in the pit of his stomach, rising until it feels like he's choking. Until not even the scent of your shampoo can calm the race of his heart. Not even the pull of his tail drawing you closer to his body– his hybrid side trying to calm him down in ways it only knows how.
How could Yoongi let himself live in such a sick dream?
You’re a human. He’s a hybrid. You would never actually love him.
Your words were drunk– of course they were. Influenced by the alcohol and the idea of a warm body next to your own. Maybe you didn’t even realise it was him, maybe it could have been anyone and you would have been satisfied.
It’s such an ugly thing, the words he thinks. The ideas that form behind his skull, twisting and turning. Forming an amalgamation of tangles and death defying drops to nothingness. Of the reality of things, his reality that is. One where he’s worthless. One where you are the sun and he is nothing but an asteroid following the orbit of someone else.
Hybrids are never meant to be with humans.
He knows that for a fact. Has read all the history books, looked at all the articles, scoured for any sign that the two of you could be together in a society that hates him only to be left with mockery. Left with anonymous strangers telling him that scorpions are meant to kill. Meant to destroy. How could a human ever care about him when his entire life he’s been told it’s the worst parts of himself? How could you care about him?
Well, he knows that isn’t all true. He knows you care in some ways. But they aren’t mate ways and–
Fuck. Fuck Yoongi, he knows he’s not supposed to think of those things. He’s never allowed to think of you and that word together. He forbade himself of it. Promised himself it couldn’t be true. That he would never admit it to you or anyone else.
You are not his mate.
But you are.
But–
He wishes he could get his head to shut the fuck up for a fucking second so he could think. Think about anything other than those two words together, even if he knew them to be true from the moment he met you in the library. When he agreed to be your tutor. When he fell in love the moment you looked his way.
And even then he thought that maybe, just maybe if you didn’t know he was a hybrid he would have a chance. That if he could keep it hidden for long enough, if you saw him as a human and not a terrifying creature bred only to kill, that you could fall for him. That he could be your mate– boyfriend. That he could be your boyfriend.
But then you saw it. Saw the fucking thing he wishes he never had, wishes he could live without. The very thing he has been hated for his entire life. His genetic abnormality, originally bred to be used for attack, used by the government to kill. The very piece of his being he rejects time and time again to try and just feel a little more normal, a little more human. And you… you said you liked it.
And no, you didn’t have any clue what those words meant at the time. Of course you didn’t. Didn’t know what they implied– didn’t know the true meaning they held. The acceptance of courtship behind their very tone.
A nice tail to a human? Nothing. A nice tail to a scorpion? The very thing used by the hybrid to attract mates? To show their viability and strength as a partner? Everything.
In that moment, you were everything.
But you didn’t know the meaning behind those words. You didn’t love him the way he so implicitly did you. And while you accepted him as a friend, you would never accept him as more. He would never let you.
That night was the night he promised himself you weren’t his mate. Promised himself he had no mate.
Last night was the first time he ever broke it.
Last night he could have killed you.
You had his tail in your mouth. His tail. The tail that carries his venom. The venom bred into his cells meant to kill others. If he let any of it out by accident… if he…
Fuck.
The heaviness that realisation brings is what finally makes him get out of bed. Finally set in motion reality. Stop himself from living in whatever dream he was playing with. Stop playing house with a girl that would never be his. That would probably think the entirety of last night was a mistake.
Who gives a shit what you thought. He could’ve killed you. He could’ve killed his fucking mate.
Societally, he could’ve never had you. He wouldn’t have been able to live with himself if you had to face the same things he did on the daily. What others thought of you. What they would say about you if they saw you two together. What would happen with your kids. How much hate and fear you would receive by being with him.
He could sacrifice his own life for you a thousand times, but he would never let you do the same for him.
And last night. Last night his venom could’ve been your end.
He doesn’t need to think anymore. He knows what he’s going to do. Even if it hurts him. Even if the grenade is set to go off and destroy his very being, it’s worth it to keep you safe. To keep you content. To keep you away from him.
Best case, you don’t remember last night or don’t bring it up. Worst…
Yoongi knows the ship he’s boarding is bound to sink– that he’s destined to drown. But if it means your happiness, he’d do anything.
The car feels cold. The heat is blasting, but it still feels frozen. Decrepit. All fireplace memories hazing into ice as you ride next to him.
Him.
Fucking him.
Fucking Min Yoongi. The fucking asshole that tore your heart out and stomped on it. The fucking asshole that didn’t even have the decency to talk to you. To explain why the fuck he was being so cold. The fucking asshole that made you feel loved. Like you weren’t alone in the entire universe, only to make you realise you were trapped in a metal box– steaming. Bubbling.
Maybe you aren’t cold. No, you definitely aren’t. You’re steaming. Burning up– ready to explode at the slightest thing. Still a burning blaze because he didn’t fucking let you talk. Just shut you down without a second thought. Without fucking anything.
Not that he owes you anything– he doesn’t owe you a relationship. He doesn’t owe you love, of course not. You’re not dumb enough to think that. But you do know he owes you an explanation. A chance to speak. Years of friendship tell you that much.
Promises tell you that much.
And you can’t fucking stand broken promises. Can’t stand acting like strangers after years of friendship. After all the time spent together. After all of the memories formed, all the bonds created. You don’t deserve to be treated like nothing.
Hell, he probably wouldn’t have even come with you today if you hadn’t texted him. Probably assumed you’d rather go alone or with one of the other people on the crew. Probably– shut up, you decide in that moment to stop making excuses for him. To stop giving him the benefit of the doubt when he treated you as no less than a one-night-stand. A fuck that meant nothing.
Were fucking years of friendship just for that? Just so he could fuck you? This fucking–
You scoff to yourself, crossing your arms over your chest. Shaking your head. An outloud reaction to the continued spiral that started this morning, that will continue to brew until it inevitably boils over. Until the pot filled with too much water gets too hot and just boils over.
You never have been able to keep your opinions in. Open book pages laid out for the world to see. Another reason you’ve always been alone– should have stayed alone in your bubble.
“What?” Oh, he wants to talk to you now?
Your eyes shoot over to his figure from the corner of your eye. You can’t believe that yesterday you were smiling at him. You hate that today a piece of you still frets at the trapping of his fingers against the wheel. At his apparent aloof demeanour is automatically disillusioned by the simple movement indicating his nerves.
He always does that when he knows a big storm is coming– when he’s worried about safety, your safety. When he's concerned about whatever events are going to follow. A tick tick tick, fingers tapping delicately one after the other. Not a harsh grab against the wheel, not an unease of temperament. Yoongi, even when nervous or agitated, has always been gentle.
Well, every time except for this morning.
You roll your eyes.
As much as you hate how self destructive you become in times like these, you hate the bubbling feeling even more. Hate the strong emotion that floods your veins, the same one that makes you feel oh-so weak. The same one that makes you need to be strong. Need to be more.
Maybe you wish you could be more like Yoongi– be entirely unaffected by the strong feelings that permeate your being. Maybe you wish you could act as ‘chill’ as him. To separate how you feel from who you are. To be calm even if you want to be brash.
But you can’t. Not when it's about him. Never when it’s about him. Almost like a piece of you continues and will always pull you towards Min Yoongi.
You turn away from him, back to the laptop resting in your lap. “The PAR says a tornado is forming north-east. Head North so we can drop the doppler in the right position.”
“Mm.” He grunts. Doesn’t say anything. Doesn’t do anything.
You don’t know what you expect him to do anyway. You didn’t give him anything to work with. Yet it doesn’t seem thinking logically is on the table, and you can’t help but get more mad, more frustrated by the second.
“Are we really not going to talk about this?” You’re quiet, almost vulnerable when you ask the question. So quiet he might not even hear. Hanging on the precipice, two winds twisting against each other in equal strength.
Never have you felt this way about another person before. Dejection and anger weigh equally on the soul. You don’t quite know how to handle it. Don’t know how to combat what you’re feeling inside, just knowing the kettle is set to boil.
He doesn’t answer your question.
It was probably a bad idea to text him. Probably equally bad for him to answer and take you. An even worse idea to let the words slip out of your mouth without holding them back.
“Asshole.” The wind starts to pick up speed around the car, sucking you in. Pulling you deeping into the void. It’ll be no time at all before the tornado hits.
“What?” His head jerks backwards, chin tucking ever so slightly to his chest. His tail coiled firmly behind him, acting like it isn’t even there. Trying to pretend he isn't there, maybe.
“I said you’re a fucking asshole.” You can’t help the rumble that forms in your heart, the twisted words that spew from your mouth. The subtle ache from every insult you fling.
Almost like you’re attached to him. Like you’re attempting to sever a chain never meant to come undone.
“What the fuck?” Why he’s acting so scandalised, flinching at every word, leaves you almost confused. Almost. Because he has no reason to be confused, at least not in your eyes. Not in the storm's eyes either.
The rumble of thunder hammers outside, deeper into the freeze. Deeper into ash.
“I thought we were going to move past this, (Y/n). We need to be adults here.” He sighs that stupid fucking sigh that you hate. The same one he used in the diner. The same one he used to brush off your feelings. Your chance to speak.
Maybe later you would reflect on how selfish you’re being. Maybe later you would realise how childish you actually are acting. But right now all you can see is red. Right now all you can feel is a part of yourself trying to rip away.
Maybe later you would find out Yoongi is feeling the exact same thing.
But right now, right now all you see is red. All you hear is the beating of hail against the car roof, the image that it is your own heartbeat set in your own mind. Right now all you know is the soul crushing weight of the only man you ever loved pulling away.
Your soulmate– if such things were real, breaking the bond.
“Are you serious? I’m the one that needs to be the adult here? Me?” You scoff, indignant. “You’re the one playing pretend, acting like nothing happened!”
“I told you that we shouldn’t talk about it.”
“You said it was a mistake.” Your eyes are set firm in a glare pointed at him and no one but him. Petty and Spite are your new best friends. Congratulations! “Just tell me if you fucking regret it Yoongi, just tell me.”
“(Y/n).”
“Was it a drunk accident? Did you think I was someone else? Please! I rather you say fucking something than nothing at all! Please just let me be selfish for once! I’m begging for something! Anything!”
…
“We have a job to do. Focus on it rather than us.” You hate that he paused before he spoke, that it gave you some sort of hope. You hate even more that his tone has not once changed– settling from incredulous to neutral. Almost like he exists as nothing but a robot reciting lines. You hate it. You hate it. You hate it.
He makes you feel like a child throwing a tantrum. He makes it feel like your feelings mean nothing. Like everything you trusted him with was all for naught. Are you not expressing yourself well enough? Are you a complete idiot? What the fuck are you doing wrong?! What's wrong?!
“You’re serious?” The logical side of you says he’s right, your job is more important than anything else. But the piece of you falling apart, pulling away and leaving an empty hole inside feels otherwise. You’re convinced you’ve never felt any emotion other than frustration and annoyance.
The car rolls to a stop as a clearing hits– hail ceasing, wind slowing even if it's just a fraction. A calm before the storm. Where you’re meant to ‘dO yOuR jOb’-- fucking asshole. Does he really think you don’t know that? Does he really think that little of you?
“Fucking joke.” You can’t help the dry laugh that exits your lungs as you step out of the car. Your peace, the time you love to spend most in the world set askew, your feelings anything but. You love your time in the storms, but the tornado brewing inside casts a much larger shadow than the one overhead.
Your hands fumble as they move the DOW out of the trunk– an action you’ve done time and time again feeling entirely foreign. Your body clumsy as it carries it to the front, your mouth spewing annoyed half thoughts all the way.
“What?” Yoongi’s window is rolled down, his head leaning out of the front as he asks.
Your eyes circle your skull again, “Fucking joke!” You call, trying to set up the radar. Your body only half in the moment. Half in the clouds.
“This whole thing is one big joke!” You shout, foot kicking the dirt beneath your feet. The storm beginning to dissipate, a swell of rain forming behind your eyelids instead.
“(Y/n) are you serious?!” You hate that his own frustration feels like a punch to the gut.
“I have been this whole time!” You shout, brain finally working to kick the last pieces of the radar in place. In good time too, the wind is picking up again. The tornado will be coming soon.
“Are you?! Are we seriously not going to talk about this?!” Your voice doesn’t feel like your own. It feels foreign, like something deeper inside is speaking for you– like it’s taking control. “Am I seriously just a cheap fuck to you?! Was I really a mistake, Yoongi?! Please, please just tell me.”
“(Y/n), don’t do this to me…” Don’t do this to him? Don’t do this to him?! Does he realise what he’s doing to you? Does he even fucking care? You told him you want him! That nothing could keep you from him– and he doesn’t even have the decency to reject you properly.
Maybe you're the bad guy– the villain for forcing this. For the path of destruction it might cause. But you truly can’t stand this. And maybe, just for once, the consequences mean as little to you as getting swallowed by the storms you’ve always cared for.
Yoongi is your impossible, remember?
“But it’s always been about you! Don’t you get that, Yoongi?! It’s always! Always been about you from the second I met you!” You yell, not holding back your shouts. Letting them echo with the thunder coursing through the skies, coursing through your veins. “I’m not asking you to love me! I’m not asking for any of that shit! I just want a rejection!”
What? What the hell are you saying? Why are you asking him to do that? Why are you asking him to do the one thing he can’t do?
He loves you. He loves you so much it keeps him up at night. That it infests his days like a parasite. You’re not asking him to love you? Are you crazy? Do you not see how he looks at you? Do you not see that you’re the person that’s hung all the stars in the night sky?
He can’t reject you. He can’t. His brain won’t let him form the words– his lips never to curl in the right shape to let them out. He can’t reject you because he doesn’t want to– because it would practically kill him to.
He loves you. You’re his mate.
Why couldn’t you just make this easy? Why couldn’t you reject him? Why did you have to look so broken this morning? Why did you like him back? What does it mean? What is he supposed to do? How is he supposed to keep fighting when he knows he could have you for himself, for real?
How is he supposed to protect you from him when it feels like he’s ripping a part of himself out when he tries to? He doesn’t want to hurt you. He never wanted to hurt you. He just wants to keep you safe. Why can’t you see that? Why can’t you understand that? Why can’t he just have you?
‘No one can keep me from you. You’re for me.’
Your words from last night ring in his ears. Existing as the only thing he can hear, the only thing that matters. Maybe it is. Maybe he’s wrong, maybe–
A sharp beeping suddenly penetrates his ears, a sound resonating from your laptop. A map laid out of the tornado's path.
It's formed– its body barrelling straight for you.
Yoongi looks scared, nervous. His tail uncurling from behind him. Reaching out the window, reaching out to you. “(Y/n)! Get in the car!”
“Shut up!” You’re not listening to him, not listening to a word he says, “I’m not even worth a rejection?! Our friendship means nothing, huh?”
“That’s not what I’m saying!” His breathing is accelerating, his heart rate going crazy. He needs to get to you. He needs to protect you. To get in the car and drive as fast and as far as he can so nothing bad happens. “Get in the car!”
“Why does it even matter if I do or not?!” You yell over the sounds of rushed winds, ignoring debris that begin to fly past. Ignoring everything but the man in front of you, just like you’ve done time and time again. “If I get in, you’re just going to pretend nothing happened! You’re going to– you’re going to–”
Tears begin to clog your vision, your words welling up in your throat. Scratching the inside, making you feel like you can’t breathe. Can’t think. Where you want to be strong, you are weak. And where you want to be weak, you feel strong. It’s a strange sort of feeling.
“I can’t just fucking pretend like nothing happened last night, Yoongi!” A sense of peace washes over you, a complete contrast to the storm surrounding, enveloping the world. Acting as a monster, not caring about your feelings, swallowing everything whole. You finally feel at peace, oddly enough.
“I can’t– I can’t just act like everything’s fine! I’ve always been so fucking shit at that, you know that!” You throw your arms up in defeat, standing right in the path of the storm. Almost ready to watch the tornado come into view, to become the storm yourself. “But it feels like– it feels like you’re killing a part of me! Like you’re, you’re pulling out a piece of my very being and I don’t know why! It doesn’t feel real! And I don’t know if I can live without it!”
What? It feels like– it feels like that for you?
Yoongi steps out of the car, his tail curling almost too pleased at his human side’s actions. If it was anyone else, they would think you’re crazy. They would think you’re just being manipulative without a care in the world– but to Yoongi, to hybrids, he knows exactly what you're talking about. He knows the exact same thing. Has felt it every day of his life since he decided he couldn’t have you.
The mate bond. The soulmate tie that will always lead two halves of a conjoined soul together over and over again.
You feel it. Humans aren’t meant to feel it but you do. You feel the same pull, the same bone crushing heartbreak upon rejection from your mate. The same– the same everything Yoongi feels.
He’s the one that's been hurting you like this, the one hurting himself by acting the same. In his bid for protection, he did the opposite. What kind of fucking mate is he? Why didn’t he just listen to the bond? Why didn’t he just let himself follow his heart?
Everything he’s dealt with in his past no longer carries any point. The comments under his stupid post to that stupid forum mean nothing. The words of his “family” are jack shit. The societal implications of him being less than human mean even less– you never saw him as less. His mate cares. His mate sees him.
This is what having a mate feels like? Yoongi thought he would never know. Never understand. But the warmth that feels him now, the subtle yearning he’s suppressed rises to the surface. His feet carrying him automatically, urging him to find you. To take care of you. To keep his mate safe.
“We have to go!” He rushes, his legs moving quickly to try and meet your form. To try and find you.
“No! No!” You shout, your foot stomping into the Earth. In any other scenario, he’d be shaking his head. Laugh at your antics. But right now, all he cares about is getting you to safety, and working on both of your communication skills. “I need you to tell me I’m a mistake! I need you to say I meant nothing!”
There you stand, arms open. Wind rushing past you, eyes closed yet looking straight ahead. You could never mean nothing, you mean everything. It’s his own stupid fault he ever let you think otherwise.
“I just said what I needed to say!” He shouts, his body finally meeting yours in the open field. His hands land on your shoulders, trying to ground you. Hair blowing around him, sticks flying past but never hitting the two of you. Almost like this needed to happen, like fate was set in stone for this very moment.
Your eyes slowly open, and Yoongi thinks the world freezes around him. Misty watersheds sit in your tearline, your eyebrows forming together in confusion with his words. Your lungs raising and falling quickly, chest panting with effort held back. Emotions yet to be unraveled.
If you feel the bond now, how long have you felt it? How confused you must’ve been. Yoongi feels awful.
“Wh-what?” Your voice cracks, cheeks warm and irises searching for an answer. What is he doing? Why is he saying this now? Why does some part of you feel whole again?
He doesn’t answer, doesn’t quite know how to articulate his words. But his body does. His body does what it’s been begging to do since he met you in that library. That he’s been holding back from every day of his stupid, (Y/n)-lacking life.
He leans in, his lips pressing against yours roughly. Trying to tell you all the words he never said, trying to put everything, all of him into one measly kiss. One that means something. One that tells the story of the two of you.
You, you can’t do anything but listen. Your eyes closing, your body returned whole. The piece of you pulling away settling back into your heart like stone. Warmth flooding your veins, home filling your very being. Making you feel safe, making you feel cared for.
And when he finally pulls away, you hear the words you’ve always longed to know, “I love you and I’m sorry.”
Yoongi feels free upon their utterance. A ball chain holding him back breaking– reality setting the world into motion once again. The earth that needs to keep spinning, that needs to keep the two of you afloat.
You should feel mad, but you can’t feel anything but peace. But feel like your soulmate has returned home from a voyage you would never understand.
Before anything else can be said, Yoongi snaps his head to the left. His eyes going wide as the winds begins to form in front of him. Looking as if they’re not moving. As if nothing is moving. “Fuck, fuck.”
He grabs your hand, pulling you back to the car as it starts to take focus in front of your mind, too. Fuzzy feeling fading, eyes going wide as you scramble from his door into your seat. He follows in quickly after you, not even thinking to buckle before taking off. Driving as if his life depends on it– your life depends on it, too.
Sticks flying past the windshield, hitting against the body. Thunderous roars of the world being consumed outside. A tail pressing against your frame, holding you steady. Keeping you in place.
It’s only when you come to safety that all the words needing to be said finally spill out from both of your mouths. When everything is set ‘right’ again instead of feeling oh-so-wrong. It’s only then that he explains everything. That he explains his logic, that he explains how hybrids have soulmates. Don’t forget the scolding he gave– the promises made to each other that the other would never do something so stupid again.
He knows you meant them.
He’ll never forget the way you smiled at him then. When the heaviness left the air and the freedom surrounding the car became almost overbearing. He wishes he could tattoo the places you playfully slapped into his arm. Where you scolded him for keeping this from you. When you told him you would never have a second thought about rejecting him.
When you told him you could never think of a life where he isn’t your mate.
“...Or boyfriend. Or partner. Whatever you wanna call it.”
You’ll never forget his gummy smile in that moment, when he has a possessive hand on your thigh.
“I don’t care. I just want to be yours.”
Wind wraps at your hair, blowing it– making it form into some beastly, monstrous thing around your head. Tangling your face, your eyes falling askew as it finds itself a messing around your very being. The howls of gusts form in his ears, sounding of ghosts that would haunt any normal person.
But you, no. Not you. You live for this. Live for the rain that beats into your skin. Live for the cracks of thunder roaring above your head. Find serenity in the dark clouds that hang overhead, the adrenaline pumping through your veins. In the knowledge that it's coming. That it’s coming soon.
And Yoongi? He can’t help but think you look like an angel enthralled in the storm. One that came to earth. One that was meant to find him. One that was created just for him.
He can’t help but bask in you– bask in his mate as you live in your freedom, your happiness. Gets to be one of the lucky few finding sanctuary in your world. In your bubble made just for you.
He smiles to himself as he watches. Shakes his head like a stupid boy in stupid love that couldn’t be happier. He’s so happy.
He pulls his phone out of his pocket, opening a familiar app that he once looked to for advice all those years ago. Going to the same post he read the replies to over and over again– convincing himself that his impossible couldn’t be reality. He shakes his head as he reads them now, almost feeling foolish for believing him in the first place. Why should he have asked on a human forum anyway? It’s like he was asking to be let down.
As he scrolls, his thumb comes to a stop above a comment he’s never seen before— a recent one. Posted just a few months ago.
RMB_Joon
> Hey! This post is being talked about a lot on another forum specifically for hybrids! :-) I left the link for you as I think it would be a lot more helpful getting perspectives over there! :-) PM me if you ever want to talk.
Yoongi feels a curl of interest grow in his gut. Other hybrids? Interest in his post? He almost wants to know more. Almost wants to follow the inkling leading him to delve deeper into the world of others.
“Yoongi!!” You shout, waving his attention over to where you stand. And suddenly, he doesn’t care about anything else anymore. How could he when he has the whole world in front of him?
He chuckles to himself, marking his post as ‘resolved’ before tucking the device into his pocket. His legs catching into a jog, joining you at your side. Exactly where he should be. Where he’s meant to be.
Summary: What begins as a simple favor for your best friend Namjoon soon pulls you into the rhythms of Yoongi’s life—afternoons spent caring for his son, late nights filled with candid conversations, and a connection neither of you thought you needed. You’re just fresh out of a long-term relationship with an ex who didn’t want a family with you, so did you really just stumble into a life you’ve always dreamed of? (Thank god Namjoon isn’t the only one who’s clumsy.)
Alternatively: It’s 2025 and BTS is prepping for their comeback. All members seem to have gained muscle weight from their time at camp. But Min Yoongi has gained a different kind of weight—an 8-pound baby and a fuck-load of responsibility. (Thank god you’re there to help him.)
Genre: Fluff, Angst, Smut, idol!au, Acquaintances to Lovers, Reader is Namjoon’s bestie
Warnings: Yoongi is a DILF (!!!) That’s it.
Chapter warnings: A lot of mood and scene setting—just vibe with it, MC is in her sad girl era, hints of depression and anxiety, masturbation, Yoongi is a new dad y’all he is tireddd af
Word count: almost 6k
Posting date: November 12, 2024
Notes: This is inspired by an ask/prompt sent by @yoongznme. Enjoy, my lovelies~ 💕🫶🏼
Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Masterlist
Namjoon leans back in his seat, sporting an all-too-familiar, slightly conspiratorial glint in his eyes. Hmm. You know that look.
It's the same one he had when he "casually" set you up to tutor one of his trainee friends in English—the one you let slip was kinda cute. Or when he signed you up to perform with one of his rapper friends in that underground club in Hongdae. Sure, you knew every word of the chorus to eminem’s Stan, but you were not a fucking singer.
You still did it, though. Both times.
Namjoon’s especially notorious for volunteering you to do things he insists are "right up your alley." There’s a fire in his eyes when he starts talking about one of his ideas, and before you know it, you're swept up in his vision, already picturing yourself right there beside him, doing something you’d never consider on your own.
Namjoon has been your best friend since forever and for reasons you can’t explain, saying no to him has always been impossible.
Right. It’s definitely that. It’s definitely not because in those two prior instances mentioned, both friends of his are actually the same guy. The one you had an almost crippling crush on over a decade ago. (You’re sooo over it, though. Trust.)
When Namjoon leaned in, you were already bracing yourself.
“So, you know Yoongi, right?”
You blink, pause, and slowly shake your head. It has taken years, but today is the day you tell him, “No.”
“The fuck? What do you mean no?” He replies, already looking hella amused. “I haven’t even said anything.”
Your face feels like a furnace, but you grit and steady your voice. “Whatever it is, the answer is no.”
He lets out a hum, shifting in his seat, and you get the sense he’s working up to something.
You sip your coffee, keeping your eyes on him. He gives you an exaggerated shrug, dimples deepening as he lets his shoulder sag.
God you’re literally already about to break.
“Fuck. Joon. Spit it out.”
He nods triumphantly, “Ok, there’s something I thought I’d run by you first, before he hears about it.”
The words hang in the air, and you raise an eyebrow. “Joon. What are you getting me into?”
Namjoon chuckles softly as he folds his hands on the table. “So… Yoongi has a son. A baby, actually.” He pauses, watching for your reaction.
Woah. Someone has fuckboi Min Yoongi all locked down?! Huh. You never saw that coming.
You let that sink in, surprise filling the quiet space between you. “I… didn’t know he had a kid.”
“Not many people do,” Namjoon admits. “Only those close to him know. Yoongi’s a great dad, but his caretaker recently left, and now he’s scrambling to balance his schedule and take care of his son.”
“And his wife?”
Namjoon sighs, gives you a look that means he’s about to say something confidential. “There’s no wife.”
“Baby mama?”
“Out of the picture.”
You let out a small breath, absorbing everything you just heard. You already had an idea of where this is leading up to, but you want it said explicitly. “So what exactly are you asking me?”
Namjoon nods, eyes hopeful. “Look, I know this is a big ask. I’m putting this out there because you’re one of the best with kids I know. And Yoongi—well, he’s pretty wary about letting new people get close to his son.”
You take another sip of your latte as he prattles on.
“While you’re still getting your bearings back, maybe you could take over the caretaker job, even part time?” Namjoon scratches the back of his neck, grinning sheepishly as he says your name. “I just thought you might consider it. You’d be doing us both a favor. Yoongi really needs help, and I’d trust you more than anyone with this.”
You sit back, letting Namjoon’s words settle. Namjoon knows exactly what he’s asking—knows exactly how hard it is for you to refuse when he gives you that puppy dog look, especially when he’s throwing Yoongi into the mix. Honestly, you hate how you're apparently still soft for him even after all these years.
Namjoon also knows your current situation. Does he not realize it’s a bit unfair to ask this of you right now? Not when you're still picking up the pieces after your breakup with your long-term boyfriend. Not when you need time to heal. Not when you literally uprooted your life and just moved back to Seoul a month ago.
But somehow, you can’t shake the curiosity. What would it even be like to see Yoongi as a dad? To get a glimpse of this whole other life he’s got now?
It’s probably a terrible idea.
Yeah, no. You don’t need this right now. Money isn’t tight. And you need to focus on…
You take a slow breath, mentally tracing the edges of this mess. There are a hundred reasons to say no, and only one reason you’d even consider saying yes. And because it’s for Yoongi… damn, maybe that’s reason enough.
The next time you see Yoongi, it’s at HYBE’s massive rehearsal space. Namjoon had invited you to watch the group practice—innocent enough, though you know it’s also his way of nudging you toward the job. Joon thinks he’s subtle, but you know his plans are, more often than not, clunky as hell.
You settle in one corner, holding on to your half-finished iced Americano. A few staff are scattered around the studio, there was another girl (maybe a member’s girlfriend, you’re not sure), but it’s mostly empty. The boys are warming up, stretching or chatting, and you wave to Jungkook and Taehyung before finding yourself glancing toward Yoongi.
Wearing an all black outfit and a baseball cap, he’s standing off to the side, arms full with a fussy baby, and a bassinet stroller in front of him. The boy can’t be more than a few months shy of his first birthday. He’s close to tears, twisting and squirming, while Yoongi, visibly flustered, tries to hand him a toy, then a bottle, then anything he can find. Nothing works. Soon, the baby’s fuss turns into a full-on tantrum.
Oh, damn. Poor Yoongi.
He drops the bottle, spilling milk across the floor just as the stroller, half-locked, rolls a few feet away. He lunges for it, fumbling as the baby’s wailing intensifies, tiny fists flailing in frustration. Yoongi’s eyes dart around, panicked, while a couple of female staff start toward him, hands outstretched. But he waves them off, his face set in a mix of fierce determination and mild desperation as he rocks and hushes the baby.
It honestly hurts to watch the scene unfold. You almost want to do something.
Namjoon starts clearing people out, Jimin dims the studio lights, and Seokjin picks up the spilled bottle, wiping down the floor. Hobi taps a white noise track on his phone, placing it near the stroller. Your heart warms at how effortlessly everyone pitches in, their movements so practiced it’s obvious they’ve done this before. But it makes you wonder just how many rehearsals have paused for these moments. It’s probably why Namjoon wants to help find a solution, a.k.a you.
You meet your best friend’s gaze and he cocks his head toward the door, signaling for you to file out with the others, but your feet take you somewhere else entirely.
“Is he okay?” you ask, approaching Yoongi.
Yoongi doesn’t hear you at first, too focused on calming his son. His face is etched with exhaustion and something fragile, an uncharacteristic crack in his calm. He finally glances up, half-exasperated. To your mild relief, a look of recognition crosses his face, before he replies, “Yeah, he’s—he’s usually not this fussy.”
You watch him struggle for a bit, then, before you can second-guess, you step forward. “Do you mind if I try?”
Yoongi hesitates, studying you like he’s weighing the decision to trust you with his son. His eyes flick towards Namjoon who was standing by the door, before it goes back to you. After a tense pause, he nods, handing the baby over.
You hold the little boy, shifting him gently away from the mirrors and bright lights, rocking him slowly and humming an old lullaby you used to sing for your preschoolers. Gradually, his cries quiet down, his tiny head resting against your shoulder as he begins to relax, fingers curling around the fabric of your shirt. Within minutes, he’s fast asleep.
When you glance up, Yoongi is watching, his face unreadable. There’s relief, yes, but also a quiet wonder, an almost surprised gratitude.
“I owe you,” he murmurs, a softness in his voice you hadn’t expected.
“‘S ok,” you say, quietly, careful not to wake the baby.
The two of you stand there, his eyes on you for just a beat too long, and if you didn’t have the baby to ground you, you feel like you just might float.
“Thank you,” he says, tone soft and sincere.
From across the room, Namjoon watches, his eyes mirroring the same gratitude.
The call from Yoongi comes unexpectedly one evening, just after dinner. You don’t recognize the number, then again you don’t have a lot of +82s yet since you just moved back after many years of being in the States. The last thing you expect is to hear Yoongi’s voice on the other end of the line.
“Hey, it’s…Min Yoongi,” he starts, voice a little rough.
“Oh, hi.”
There’s a short silence, and then he clears his throat. “Namjoonie mentioned you uh might… be interested in helping with my son.”
You feel a strange flutter, both at the fact that Yoongi is talking to you, and at the fact that he’s asking something so personal. “Uh, yeah. I can help out.”
The pause is long enough that you imagine him somewhere, shifting uncomfortably. “I know it’s a lot to ask,” he finally says, sounding almost apologetic. “I don’t want to… impose or anything. But it would help. A lot.”
“Okay.”
“Thank you,” You hear Yoongi release a sigh of relief. Then he says the next phrase in a rush, “I know you are overqualified for this, so uh please let me compensate you with your salary as a teacher in America.”
You feel your face flush. Thank god this was not a video call. Seems you’re as uncomfortable as he is talking about money, though it is a necessary evil. “Oh, no, please Yoongi. You don’t have to. Joonie’s my bestfriend and you’re his brother. I can just help until you can find a more permanent solution.”
Thankfully, he doesn’t argue with you on this. You hear a puff of breath before he says. “Alright. Thank you.”
And just like that, you’re set. He gives you the address, and you’re left wondering for the rest of the night how you’ll manage this strange new gig.
The first day you arrive at Yoongi’s apartment in Hannam-dong, you’re a bundle of nerves, unsure what to expect.
After you ring the bell, the door opens to reveal Yoongi with his usual reserved expression, a piece of muslin cloth draped on one shoulder.
“Hi,” he says simply, stepping aside to let you in.
You offer him a smile. “Hey.”
He closes the door behind you as you step inside. You look around, taking everything in.
The apartment is spacious but cozy, with a warmth that speaks of careful design—minimalistic furniture in muted colors, shelves lined with books and vinyl records, a few baby toys strewn around the living room. Homey.
This is the first time you get to really see Yoongi. The brief encounter at the rehearsal studio didn’t afford you the chance to appreciate how time has treated him.
Seeing him after six years, he’s both the same and somehow different. He has always had that calm confidence—a steady, grounded energy that feels both nostalgic and new. His usually colorful hair, now in its natural hue, casually frames his face. He wears a simple white tee and you can tell the noodle arms are gone. His shoulders are much broader, arms stronger than how you remember him. The silver earrings are still there, subtle reminders of his edginess, softened by time.
But beneath it all, there’s a layer of, hmm… exhaustion, you guess? A shadow under his eyes, faint lines hinting at the weight of sleepless nights. His lips are chapped, there’s a tiny red bump on his chin. He’s a new dad, he hasn’t prioritized himself for a while. Still, his face carries a tenderness in the fatigue, like he’s tired, but happy.
“He’s napping right now,” Yoongi clears his throat, motioning toward a small crib by the window, where his son is sleeping peacefully, bundled in soft blankets.
“You haven’t told me his name.”
“Haneul.”
“That’s beautiful,” you reply, and Yoongi nods, almost shy.
He hesitates, glancing down as if gathering his thoughts. Then he says your name. “I… um, I didn’t know how this would go. His last caretaker was actually my aunt, but she got sick and had to go back home.”
“I’m really sorry to hear that.”
He nods, “But after seeing how he calmed down with you… I think he’ll be alright.”
He gives you a tour of his apartment, the baby monitor clipped in his jean pocket. His place is modern, spacious, baby-proofed. There are pictures that line the walls of the hallway linking the nursery, his studio, guest room, guest bath, and the masters.
You spend some time going through Haneul’s things—familiarizing yourself with the layout of the nursery. He shows you where the baby food and snacks are. Talks about his favorite toys and activities.
While he downloads the 101 on Haneul, the one thing you were curious to know was, where is his birth mom? You obviously don’t want to be a prick so you swallow the question down. Maybe you’ll find out in the future. But for now, you just need to know where the baby wipes are.
For the first few days that you come over, Yoongi keeps close, hovering just within earshot as you ease into the cadence of his son’s needs. He’s there with his arms folded, watching as you handle Haneul, a cautious yet respectful distance. You get it though. You’re a virtual stranger he just let into his home and his son’s life. Who wouldn’t be guarded?
You quickly notice that Haneul has a sweet temperament, but has a bit of a sensitive side. He doesn’t take to loud sounds, so you keep your voice low and movements gentle, singing him lullabies and nursery rhymes under your breath while Yoongi quietly observes, even if he pretends to be engrossed with something else.
On your third day, Yoongi has to leave to attend an important meeting at HYBE. He’s been pacing by the door, making sure his son is settled before he goes, even though you’re right there, holding the baby with practiced ease.
“Are you sure you’re… good with this?” he asks, his brow furrowed, as if still convincing himself to leave.
You give him a reassuring smile. “Go. I got him. He’ll be fine.”
He hesitates one last time, eyes fixed on you, and then he finally gives a small nod. “Okay. I’ll be back soon.”
As soon as the door closes, you’re left with the quiet hum of the apartment and a very awake, very curious baby in your arms. You spend the next hour rocking him and singing songs, amazed at how easily he settles, almost as if he’s known you longer than a few days.
After his nap, you take a video of the babbling Haneul enjoying his yogurt gems and send it to Yoongi. He replies almost immediately with a smiley emoji and a curt: cute.
Yoongi returns around dinnertime right as you’ve settled the baby down in his bed. He steps inside the nursery quietly, watching as you tuck the blanket around his son. When you look up, he’s standing there, holding two cups of steaming liquid.
“I, uh… thought you might want some tea,” he says, looking slightly awkward but endearing.
“Always.” You take the mug with a grateful smile. “How was your meeting?”
“Could’ve been an email,” He shrugs and stuffs the empty hand inside his pocket.
You grin as you take a sip, remembering how you’ve always enjoyed his dry sense of humor, in the rare occasions you hung out in the past. Ooh, this tea is… your favorite.
“Silver moon?” you asked.
He nodded, “There’s a TWG shop that just opened near the office. Namjoonie might have mentioned it was your favorite, so.”
Your ears warm up just as well as your throat as you savor another drink.
“How was Haneul? Did he give you a hard time?”
“Not at all,” you shake your head, looking over to the little angel. “I’ve had a lot of practice, you know.”
“I can’t imagine handling a whole classroom full of them,” he says, looking at you with a mix of admiration and amusement. “One’s hard enough.”
“You’re lucky to have him,” you reply wistfully, suddenly feeling a tug at your heartstrings. ‘What I would give…’ you almost utter out loud.
The thing is, you actually do, without realizing it. Unbeknownst to you, Yoongi files the thought away, a subject he might bring up one day—when the time comes that he thinks you trust him, too.
The days blur into a steady rhythm. You arrive in some afternoons, not really everyday, only when Yoongi needs the extra hand at home or if he needs to leave the house for a day of rehearsals. You both establish that this is merely a favor so he doesn’t treat you like you’re at his every beck and call. Usually it starts with a short message in Kakao, and if you’re free, he would send a car to pick you up. Your meals are always ready, delivered on the dot. Conveniences are always within your reach—your favorite tea, extra clothes in case there are food or poop blow-outs, etc. The cleaning lady that goes thrice a week, Mrs. Kwon sometimes keeps you company and assists you with anything.
As you help take care of his baby, you feel that he’s looked out for you, too. Which is nice.
On days that he is working from home, Yoongi brings his work into the living room, just to be nearby during playtime with you and Haneul.
One evening, when his son falls asleep in your arms after a particularly fussy day, Yoongi glances up from his laptop and leans back in his chair, a tired but grateful smile breaking through.
“He’s really taken to you,” he observes, sounding almost as if he’s admitting it to himself.
You smile, feeling a strange warmth at his words. “I think he’s just a really sweet kid, Yoongi. He’s easy to love.”
The smile he gives you after that is probably the gummiest one you’ve ever seen.
A few weeks pass, and a subtle partnership has started forming between you, like you’re both slowly finding a rhythm in the chaos of caring for Haneul.
Bath time becomes a kind of unspoken relay: you gather the towel and clothes, while Yoongi preps the tub, testing the water with careful fingers. There’s a brief exchange of glances—no need for words, just a nod as you pass off Haneul, who’s already giggling happily.
Snack time turns into a ritualized watch party. You set out the applesauce and crackers for Haneul, and Yoongi brings a bag of chips and his laptop over to the living room, joining you and Haneul for yet another episode of Miss Rachel. Occasionally, he’ll mutter a sarcastic comment under his breath, trying (and failing) to disguise the fact that he’s memorized the songs, too. (And in English, no less!)
There was one particular afternoon that you walk in on the father and son having a heartwarming exchange.
Haneul, who’s wobbling on his unsteady little legs, is reaching eagerly for a stuffed tiger Yoongi is holding just out of reach.
“Oh, no, no, no—you gotta work for this,” Yoongi teases, eyebrows raised dramatically. He moves the tiger side to side, adding a low, exaggerated growl that makes Haneul squeal with laughter. Yoongi leans fully into the act, growling and making faces, finally swooping Haneul up with a playful roar, both of them dissolving into laughter.
You can’t help but laugh along with them, your heart catching slightly at the sight. The way his eyes crinkle in genuine amusement, his mouth relaxed into a wide gummy grin. And you’re startled by how… soft he looks, how fucking attractive he is when he’s like this. When his usual quiet intensity is replaced by this playfulness, by this open warmth. It hits you somewhere deep, a warm, fuzzy feeling in your chest that you can’t quite ignore.
Yoongi catches you watching, his smile faltering for a moment, but he holds your gaze. His expression shifts, something curious reflecting in his eyes as if he’s wondering what you’re thinking, but he doesn’t ask. Instead, he swallows a lump in his throat, cheeks dusting a faint pink as he looks down, bashful.
You force yourself to glance away, feeling warmth creep up your neck. For the first time, you’re struck by an awareness of him that wasn’t there before, and it lingers, even as you turn back to whatever it was you were supposed to be doing. The image of his smile, his laughter—it all stays with you, stirring something you can’t quite put a name to.
And just like that, you’re settling into this role in the life of the Min men—something you know is temporary, but is infinitely meaningful.
When you’re not in Yoongi’s apartment, your own place feels strangely foreign.
God, you hate it here. You can’t even bring yourself to call it home—it’s just a room with white walls, half-opened moving boxes, a stack of unread books Joonie gave you, a mattress on the floor, and a fridge with a single egg. It’s quiet. Too quiet. You could fix the place up—it’s not like you can’t afford a bed frame or groceries—but for some reason, you’re punishing yourself. Like this is the way someone like you—unwanted and rejected—ought to live.
Nothing in this flat tethers you to it, and maybe that’s why you prefer being out.
You’re afraid your heart is stuck somewhere in limbo, somewhere between Seoul and LA. Maybe it’s still floating above the clouds on that flight back. You don’t know when it’ll come down, but you hope it’s soon.
Tonight, you’re restless, tossing and turning in your makeshift bed, replaying fragments of your old life—a love that once felt solid, a future that had once felt certain. Your mind drifts to those last conversations with Jiyong, your ex, the ones where he shut down every hope you had for a family, making you wonder if wanting more was somehow wrong.
You probably deserve it, though. You want a family, but you can barely cook for yourself. What do you hope to feed a child—takeout? Junk food? It’s laughable. You can’t even make a home feel like one. Jiyong probably got tired of you because you’re useless at it.
Stop. You close your eyes, focus on your breathing, try to still your mind. 1, 2, 3…
Some nights, you especially hate yourself. Tonight is one of them.
You need to call Namjoon. He can usually talk you down, ease the self-loathing. You ring him three times, but each time, you get his voicemail. Fuck. Maybe he’s out, maybe he’s getting laid. Good for him, honestly.
But that might actually work. You rummage through one of your boxes and find the one purple bullet that’s gotten you through plenty of spirals. With a flick, the vibrator buzzes to life, and you slip it beneath your panties, pressing it right against your clit. You’re not in the mood to drag this out—you want release, quick and easy, something to take the edge off.
At first, your limbs relax as that familiar tingle begins, little sparks shooting from your core, teasing you with hints of pleasure. You keep at it, determined, but after a few minutes, the sensations stall. It’s like your body’s stuck, lingering on the edge without tipping over, leaving you stranded and more frustrated than when you started. You decide to cut your losses.
Maybe a shower. Maybe you can pop by the GS25 down the block for a bottle of soju.
But then your phone pings. It’s Yoongi.
Your tummy suddenly feels funny.
You immediately swipe up and read the string of messages that has popped on your Kakao.
Yoongi: Hey so I found this in Haneul’s crib
Yoongi: image.jpg
Yoongi: u got this for him? he is lowkey obsessed.
Yoongi: But WTF is it?
You cackle. Loud and hearty. A sound you didn’t think you were capable of on a shitty night like this.
You: A capybara! Look it up!
Yoongi: Oh
Yoongi: never heard of it
You: They’re cute
Yoongi: ?
You: Don't be mean
You: Haneul and I love bora
Yoongi: ??
You: thats her name
Yoongi: noted
That night, the Kakao thread becomes your lifeline. Yoongi asks about your next visit, what you had for dinner, and when you say goodnight he sends back a grainy selca of him and a sleeping Haneul with Bora. The photo brings unexpected joy, something to remind you that you aren’t as alone as it sometimes feels. Finally, you succumb to slumber, clutching your phone to your chest, thoughts of Yoongi and Haneul floating in your dreams.
After that, you become more and more aware that Yoongi’s place has become a sanctuary. There’s Haneul’s bright laughter, the way his tiny fingers curl around yours, and the sound of Yoongi’s soft, steady voice, creating a background that somehow starts to feel comforting. With them, you’re too busy to dwell on the past or the ache left behind by someone else’s rejection. Instead, you’re present, stable.
And it’s in those moments—when you’re reading Haneul a story or soothing him to sleep—that you feel a glimmer of something you’d thought you’d lost: hope. The simple act of holding him, soothing him through his small struggles… It’s healing in a way you can’t quite put into words, as if this little boy is slowly fusing pieces of your heart you’d almost forgotten were broken.
And Yoongi—he’s part of it, too. His presence, his quiet strength, the way he’s trusted you with something so precious.
You know this is just a phase, that this isn’t your life, but a part of you can’t help but imagine what it would be like if it were. To be here, day after day, with this little family that’s somehow found its way into your heart.
You’re still healing, still putting yourself back together, but this—this feels like the start of something you could believe in again.
What you couldn’t believe though was the email from your building administrator with an acknowledgment receipt for next quarter’s rent payment—all settled. You haven’t made the deposit yet, how come it’s saying it’s been paid for already?
You pace your room staring at the email from your phone as if it holds all the answers.
What is happening? Who paid for this? You didn’t sign up for some sugar baby service…
Wait. Something clicks in your brain. Suga. Baby.
Your first instinct is to call Namjoon, meddler extrordinaire. He picks up on the second ring, sounding annoyingly chipper.
“‘Sup, buttercup?” he asks.
“Don’t act cute, Joonie,” you warn. “Did you know about this?”
There’s a pause. “About what, exactly?”
“Yoongi,” you say, practically hissing his name. “He paid my rent, didn’t he? Three months’ worth. How did he even know where I live?”
Namjoon lets out a hum, his tone maddeningly calm. “Ah. That.”
“Yes. That. Care to explain?”
“Look,” Namjoon says, unbothered. “Yoongi asked, so I gave him your address. He said you refused his offer, but still he wanted to pay you back somehow.”
“But Joon! It’s too much—” You pause, scrambling for the right words. “How did he even get a hold of the landlord and settle all this without my knowledge?”
Namjoon chuckles, which only makes you more annoyed. “Yoongi hyung is an influential guy, you know. If he wants something, he’ll fuckin’ find a way. Just take it, okay? You’re helping him, he’s helping you. It’s fair.”
You huff, still not convinced. “It’s just… a lot, Joon. I don’t need anyone swooping in and paying my bills. And you could’ve at least warned me.”
“I get it. But you’re helping him with something really important. This is his way of saying thank you.”
You sink back into your chair, the irritation draining out of you. “Fine,” you mutter. “But if he pulls something like this again, I’m coming for your ass.”
Namjoon laughs. “Aishh. Why the hell is it my fault?”
“You’re a smart man. Figure it out.” You hang up.
You spend that afternoon at Yoongi's. He was in a rush, dashing out for some shoot as you arrive. You hear him return around seven, just as you're finishing putting Haneul to sleep. Once the baby is settled, you tiptoe out of the nursery with the baby monitor on hand, following the sounds of soft clinking and the rich aroma wafting from the kitchen.
“Hey, Yoongi,” you call out, stepping into view. “Haneul’s all tucked in. I was just gonna—”
“Stay for dinner?” Yoongi’s eyes light up, his voice gentle but hopeful as he turns, holding a pot in one hand and a wooden spoon in the other. It looks like he came straight from his shoot, his hair still styled in soft, precise waves that swoop perfectly across his cheekbones. He’s wearing the softest, oversized yellow sweater layered over a crisp white shirt, and his jeans hug him just right. But it’s his smile that really draws you in—light radiates from him, his face glowing not just from a bit of skincare, but from something more.
Goddamn. The man is looking fine as hell.
You’d planned to meet up with Namjoon tonight, but one look at Yoongi—whose eyes are too shy to hold yours as he ladles red sauce into a ceramic bowl—and you know you are absolutely staying put. Joon will understand.
“Ok, yeah, that looks really good,” you say.
“It is.” Yoongi smirks, just barely, and gestures to the fridge. “I’ll plate this up if you can grab some drinks?”
You procure a couple of beers from the chiller and set them on the dining table, shooting off a quick text to Joon afterwards.
You: Hey, raincheck? Yoongi made dinner and it looks good ngl
His response is instant.
Namjoon: You blowing me off to play house with hyung. K. I see how it is.
This asshole.
You’re about to call and give him a piece of your mind when Yoongi’s voice pulls you back. “Everything okay?”
Your gaze shifts to the plates of spaghetti he’s just set down, the aroma working wonders to sway your thoughts. “Yeah, just Joon being a pain in my ass as usual.”
“Sit.” Yoongi gestures to your chair as he settles into his.
“Wait.” You grab the baby monitor from the kitchen counter, setting it between you and Yoongi. The screen shows Haneul fast asleep, Bora tucked securely under his arm.
“There. Now we can eat.”
Yoongi nods, and the two of you dig in.
It hits you that this is actually the first time the two of you have shared a quiet dinner together like this. You were expecting Yoongi to let the silence linger, but he starts a conversation mid-way.
“I, uh, was surprised to see you back here,” he says casually, twirling a forkful of pasta.
“Me too. It was… kind of abrupt.”
He nods, not pressing, just listening. You don’t think you’re ready to talk about that so you try a joke.
“Didn’t think you’d ever see the girl who carried your performance of Stan?” you add, smirking. “I basically launched your career.”
“Carried?” He raises an eyebrow, clearly amused. “Nah, you were choking.”
“Hell no.”
“Uh-huh.” He laughs softly, shoulders bobbing. “Rewriting history….”
“Fine. I sucked. Joon totally went behind my back with that one. Not that he’s the only one who likes going behind my back,” you add pointedly, of course alluding to the matter of your paid-off rent.
Yoongi scratches the back of his neck, looking almost guilty. “Sorry for overstepping.”
“Just don’t start paying my utilities behind my back, too. Because—”
He shifts awkwardly, avoiding your gaze.
“Yoongi?”
He clears his throat. “Just your electricity. I… may have asked the landlord to include it this month.”
“Oh my god.”
“And water,” he adds quickly, eyes widening like a kid who just got caught.
“Add my Netflix subscription while you’re at it.”
“Done.”
“NO!!! You’re actually worse than Joonie,” you groan, though a smile quirks at your lips. “But, thank you:”
He nods, briefly pausing before he speaks up again, a little too flippantly. “So… you and Namjoonie—what’s the deal there?”
You blink, caught off guard. “What do you mean?”
He shrugs, looking somewhere over your shoulder. “You know what we all think? That he’s playing some kind of long game with you.”
You wrinkle your nose, laughing. “Oh god, no. Y’all are waayyy off. Namjoon’s like my brother, that’s it.”
Yoongi nods slowly, the smallest hint of a smile on his lips as he watches you.
“Everyone thinks that, huh?” you ask, leaning in, a little bolder than usual.
“Mhmm.” Yoongi gives a slow nod, as he nibbles his lower lip.
“All the members?”
“Yeah,” he says, watching you carefully.
“Including you?”
He shrugs, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips, though something shifts in his expression, like he’s trying to piece together a puzzle he didn’t know existed.
“Interesting,” you murmur, swirling your glass.
“Why?” he narrows his eyes on you, wheels turning in his head.
Maybe it’s the beer loosening you up, bubbles lifting your usual filters. You’ve always been a lightweight.
“You never wondered why Joonie suddenly set you up for English tutoring with me—just you—even though your company had a professional hired to teach everyone?”
He blinks, eyes narrowing a bit more.
“Or why I ended up singing with you at that damn club?” You laugh, leaning back.
His lips mold into a small pout, processing, but you’re already laughing.
“Joonie’s been throwing me into your orbit, Yoongi,” you say, giggling, the alcohol hitting you hard now. “And you’re telling me you never noticed?”
He looks like he’s having a full conversation with himself, his mouth opening and closing like a stunned goldfish inside a gallon bottle. All he manages is an eloquent: “shit.”
“Well, for the record,” you pause, “I thought you were cute, but it was obvious you weren’t interested. Don’t worry, though,” you say lightly, glancing down on your almost empty plate. “I’m a big girl now. It’s all in the past.”
As you stab the last meatball, you miss the way Yoongi’s gaze softens.
You have no way of knowing what’s going through his head. But if you did, you would find that he’s thinking:
If he could go back in time, he’d kick his younger self straight in the balls for not noticing, and tell him to get his head out of his ass long enough to realize this one shocking truth:
You were not Namjoon’s girl.
And he actually had a chance with you.
Because maybe you’re right. Back then everything was about the dream—y’know, big house, big cars, big rings, and all that shit. So yeah, maybe, he wasn’t ready then.
But that doesn’t mean he isn’t now.
Notes: Oh-KKKAYYY!! How are we feeling? Anything you liked in particular in this chapter? Where is the baby mama? Do we even care atp?!
Part 2 is where things get more flirty, spicy, and all that good stuff.
Tell me your thoughts and theories. See you in the comments! <333
Thank you for reading, you lovely, beautiful, human 💕🫶🏼
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Pairing: Yoongi x afab reader (Kintsugi couple) feat. A Fine Line Couple
Genre: established relationship
Word count: 5.8k
Summary: A couples' holiday with Suri and Namjoon highlights a particular problem between you and Yoongi.
Content: one reference to self-harm (cutting) but discussion of scars, oral sex (f. receiving), discussions of sex life stuff?, i guess some poor communication, overheard sex
A/N: yes, it's me once again with my favourite characters no apologies. i have been thinking about this since maybe even before i finished the series??? and i'm glad to have it finally out of my head. this is unedited and unbeta'd, written by me in the course of this one single day and well, here we are. This is set in the summer, somewhere a few months after the ending of the series.
* * *
“It’ll be fun!”
Yoongi just nodded and continued carefully folding clothes and packing them in a bag.
“You don’t want to come,” you continued, heart sinking a little.
“Of course I do.”
“Tell your face.”
He smiled then but didn’t want you to see it, turned around to fetch underwear from a drawer. When he turned back, his face was schooled into something a little more neutral, polite.
“I’m not saying it’s my first choice of holiday,” he explained, “but I want to go.”
“Good, because you’re coming whether you like it or not!”
You hopped off the bed, gave him a kiss on the cheek, and then moved into the kitchen to prepare snacks for the road. At the advice of your therapist, you were taking Yoongi at his word: if he said he wanted to come, you would believe him and it was not your responsibility if he was lying. Even though it felt like it was.
A week in the sun had been your initial suggestion. Somewhere where the heat wasn’t a curse, but a blessing. Clear blue skies and cool water. Peace. Unbridled joy where the real world couldn’t touch you. Even you weren’t entirely sure when it turned into a couples’ holiday, but it was an idea that neither Suri nor Yoongi would ever come up with, and you weren’t sure about Namjoon so it must have been yours. Sounded like the sort of thing you would say. Yoongi had said yes and let you do the research, find somewhere not too far away, easy to get to but far enough to feel new, to feel fresh.
He had been fairly tight-lipped about it since then. Got a little quiet when you brought it up, when you showed him tourism websites with activities laid out. He insisted he wanted to come but never quite managed to muster up the level of enthusiasm you’d hoped for. In a way, that was just Yoongi being Yoongi, but there was anxiety in you, too, and it was making you sensitive. You could see everyone hating the idea, hating the trip, having the worst time. The awkward silences, arguments about what to do or who should clean what. Namjoon had joked that he would have to force Suri to come and he had said it with a laugh but you knew it was true.
You turned your head and looked out of the car window at the increasingly green scenes around you and bit your lip. It felt incongruous somehow to not be happy and peaceful when the environment was so lush and bright with life. With ease. With a natural kind of solidity that had stood for hundreds or thousands of years and was still standing. You felt small and silly to be worried about this but it didn’t stop you worrying. Yoongi’s hand found yours and, like it always did, made a warmth start in your heart. You closed your eyes for a second of intense gratitude and then turned to him.
“It’ll be fun,” he said.
And it sounded like he meant it.
*
You and Yoongi arrived first, took the back bedroom overlooking the lake at Yoongi’s insistence because it was the better view. You had stopped on the way for groceries and you stocked the fridge, took out food to cook for dinner, since it would be about that time when Namjoon and Suri arrived.
The cabin was wooden and new, so new it still smelt literally pine-fresh. The sun was just starting to dip, dripping golden light over everything, spreading a thousand tiny diamonds on the surface of the lake. It couldn’t have been more picturesque. It made you want to send a postcard for the first time since you were a child. You settled for texting photos to Taehyung who told you to stop messaging him. Your ripples of anxiety were peaking, anticipating Namjoon and Suri’s arrival and what sort of dynamic it would bring, how it might disturb the peace of this place.
Yoongi tore you from the window and asked you to start peeling vegetables. You were glad of the task.
“-t I don’t want to be here, it’s just going to be weird.”
Suri’s voice came from the hallway and you froze. So did Yoongi.
“I don’t know why you keep saying that-” Namjoon - “it’s not as if we’ve never spent time with them. You like them.”
Suri’s hum in response sounded unconvinced.
You heard the kicking off of shoes, could follow their footsteps into the living room, around the corner from the kitchen where the two of you were hidden. Yoongi put down his knife and moved to go, intercept them before they said something you didn’t want to hear, but you put a hand out to stop him. Your stomach was sick but you had to hear it. Whatever it might be.
“She’s jus-”
And they rounded the corner into the kitchen, stopped in their tracks when they saw you.
“Hey!” Namjoon was the first to recover. “We didn’t know you guys had arrived already! Where have you parked?”
“’Round the back,” Yoongi answered.
He was looking at Suri and you were looking anywhere but. Face burning with shame—that this was your idea, that it was all your fault, that you should’ve made you presence known earlier, that no one except you wanted to do this—you swallowed and smiled as brightly as you could.
“You made it!”
Your cheer sounded forced to you; maybe Namjoon and Suri wouldn’t hear it. Maybe they would believe you.
“Public transport is a fucking nightmare,” Suri said with feeling.
“I told you we could’ve rented a car,” Namjoon replied as if they had had this argument already.
“I’m not driving in these hills! You should do it. Right?”
You flinched when she turned to you and realised you had to answer.
“Uh-”
“Yoongi drove, right? Literally what are men good for if not chauffeuring you around?”
It was a lifeline for her, really, but you took it readily, gladly, anything to drive over the awkwardness and shame you were feeling.
“She has a point, Joon,” you said, grinning at him. “You could at least get a licence.”
Namjoon rolled his eyes indulgently, let you and Suri rib him a little more, smoothing things over at his own expense. You were deeply grateful.
“Come and help us do dinner,” you said, ferreting out more chopping boards from the cupboard, handing over knives and ingredients.
It would be fine, you told yourself as you diligently and with great focus, chopped an onion. It would be fine. It would not be weird. It would be fine. It would be fine.
*
It was fine. Dinner was cooked and eaten and cleaned up after. Drinks were taken on to the back porch, overlooking the lake, the heat lingering long into the darkness. It was not dissimilar to the other dinners you had had as a foursome. As long as you could forget what Suri might have been about to say, you were sure you could have a good time.
*
You woke the next morning, sun streaming sharply through a gap in the curtains. You rolled over, tucked yourself into Yoongi’s side even though you were already hot and sticky. You were willing yourself to fall back to sleep, even if just for a few minutes, and then you were sitting, eyes wide, ears trained.
There was no mistaking the sound of other people having sex. You grimaced, settled back down in bed and pulled the covers over your head.
“What?” Yoongi mumbled, not so much a word as a sound.
“Can’t you hear them?” you asked in a stage whisper.
Another grunt from Yoongi. Then you felt his body tense, followed by a sigh and a sleepy chuckle.
“You’re the one who wanted to come on holiday with another couple.”
You whined, prodded him sharply in the chest.
“Not because I was anticipating this! Do they have to be so loud?”
“This place is not exactly well sound-proofed.”
“I so don’t want to hear this.”
“Go back to sleep,” Yoongi said and he sounded like he was already halfway there himself.
“I don’t know how you can sleep now that you can hear that.”
Merely a hum in response.
You lay for a few minutes, desperately trying not to hear the only noise in the house, and then you gave up. Threw back the covers and went into the bathroom to shower. The rush of the shower might not exactly cover it but it would give you something to do.
*
“Hey,” Yoongi greeted the other couple when they came out to join the two of you on the back porch, where you were sitting with coffee and fruit. “Just a quick request: could you please have louder sex? I’ve been getting a little too much sleep recently.”
You and Suri both froze and you saw the blood swarm in her cheeks, red and hot. Namjoon just laughed.
“I’ll see what we can do.”
Suri swatted him harshly on the arm and he barely noticed, slung said arm around her shoulders and pulled her close, kissed her on the top of her head. If he felt embarrassed or awkward about it, it wasn’t showing. What was it like to be so self-assured, confident, relaxed about everything? Even with Suri’s face still pink, her mouth pulled into a scowl, furiously glowering at her boyfriend, he looked easy, his smile gentle and eyes bright. You envied him. You still felt silly and embarrassed about the previous evening, and embarrassed about hearing them have sex; he didn’t seem embarrassed at all to be heard.
*
Yoongi had insisted on washing up after breakfast. Didn’t let anyone else so much as carry a bowl back to the kitchen. He was taking his time on it, deliberately, carefully, putting off what he knew could not be avoided.
He was rarely unaware of his own body. Vigilant at all times about its exposure. He had suffered years of summers under long sleeves and trousers, would suffer higher temperatures, more humidity if he had to. He regretted everything he had done to himself, but not in a way that prevented him doing it again. No amount of shame or embarrassment would stop him, it seemed. Not that it happened much these days, but the possibility was always there.
Even when he was with you, he couldn’t let go. Even though you were sweet and kind and loving. Even though he knew there was a part of you that understood. Even though he could kiss your thighs where you had cut them and love you so much that it hurt, love your skin, love your scars (hate that you had them). Even though you kissed him, all over, generous and unsparing, even though you said you loved him, all the parts, every bit of him. He knew what he was and he found that breaking the habit of hiding himself was harder than the hiding had been in the first place.
With his task finished, and all the others he had made up for himself (cleaning counters, fluffing cushions, clearing the dryer of lint even though they hadn’t used it), he had come to the point he could no longer avoid. He moved slowly up the stairs, towards the bedroom you and he were sharing; he stopped halfway up. He could see you through the door, left ajar.
Your bikini was floral, cutesy, every bit you. The smile formed on his mouth before he had registered the sight. Then it was wiped away because he saw your face: your worried eyebrows, lip caught between your teeth. Your fingers ran over the scars on your thighs; your face turned towards the window, from which point Yoongi knew you could see Namjoon and Suri, already out, lounging. He could see cogs turning in your head, first this way then that.
And then it wasn’t just the scars. You fussed with the top, fussed with the bottom, turned in the mirror to check yourself from the side, twisted your head around to catch yourself from the back. You ran a hand over your face. You picked up a slip of fabric—some kind of cover-up, a dress?—and held it up against yourself.
He knew he shouldn’t be spying like this. He wanted to leap the remaining stairs and take you into bed where he would show you exactly what he thought of your body: your perfect, desirable, soft, body that he loved and loved to love. He wanted, briefly, to throw Suri in the lake and hope there were eels because he knew you were still thinking about it: last night.
He knew that it didn’t matter much what he did because it wasn’t that easy. It wasn’t as easy as being told you were fine. He knew because you told him all the time but he still felt like there was something wrong with him.
He carried on up the stairs and knocked on the door as he entered. Your face was immediately bright, free from clouds, as clear as the sky outside.
“Coming outside?” you asked as he moved in closer, couldn’t stop himself kissing you just once, putting all his love into it, however brief, however small.
“Yeah, just coming. You go ahead.”
You nodded and skipped out and there was a deep tug in his chest. There was a pit of snakes in his stomach but, fuck it, he’d been bitten before. Everyone out there beside the lake knew him, knew what he was if not in full, lurid detail. He took a deep breath and fished around in the bottom of his bag for the pair of swimming shorts he had bought in a moment of madness and packed because he wanted to make the effort for you. He hadn’t expected to wear them—they were still fully tagged and pristine, ready for refunding—but here he was.
He hadn’t anticipated the difficulty. He sat for ten minutes at the dining table in the kitchen, willing himself to get up and go outside. His legs weren’t all that bad, not the lower half. No one would care. You’d seen them before anyway. It wasn’t a big deal. He was telling himself all the right things but he couldn’t make himself move because he was thinking about all the people who’d seen him in his grossest state. Thought of the things some of them had said. Thought about their reactions. Thought about yours. Tried to focus on that. Reminded himself that it was you out there and his best friend. Suri was still a question mark but he also thought that she could go fuck herself if she had a problem with it because he was still prepared to fight her for potentially upsetting you.
“I don’t know. I’ll go and see where he is.”
Your voice floated over to him and that was it, the alarm call, the deadline reached. He stood from the chair and made himself move with he didn’t know what power.
“Hey!” you cried, arms outstretched to welcome him as he approached the group. “I was just coming to look for you—thought you might have got lost.”
He smiled, let you kiss him on the cheek, direct him into a sun lounger, sit down with him on it, not quite in his lap but almost.
Suri raised a hand in way of a greeting; she was flat on her back, sunglasses on, straps of her bikini tucked away, her tiny body sizzling in the sun. Namjoon sat next to her, under the shade of a parasol, dug out of the cabin’s garage, book in hand. He nodded at Yoongi and kept reading.
“I’m going to go in the lake,” you said, one hand resting on his calf. “Do you want to come?”
He was putting all his energy into not looking where you were touching him, not noticing, pretending that this wasn’t the first time for he couldn’t remember how many years that he’d not been fully covered in front of people. He wasn’t sure what his face said, if his mouth said anything at all, but you were standing and holding out your hands for him so he must have said yes, let you lead him to the edge of the water and then jump in.
The water was colder than he’d expected. He gasped and swallowed a lungful, came up spluttering. He wiped the water from his face and pushed his hair back. He blinked the water from his eyes and each frame brought you closer, until your arms were around his neck and your lips on his.
“I love you, you know that?”
He nodded.
“I love you, too.”
“I know.”
Did you? Did you really know the full depth and breadth of it? The way he loved you was desperate and whole. He had loved desperately before, loved anxiously, a long time ago when he still thought it was possible he could be loved. There were times when it terrified him. You terrified him because you loved him and it was impossible. Panic seized him and he wanted to run, run anywhere, get as far away as possible until you and your enormous heart were nowhere to be seen. Then you would call him or you would touch him and the panic disappeared, a low-grade anxiety in its place.
He hadn’t realised he had given up on it. Before you let him kiss you, before you kissed him back and said things he never believed he would hear, he had retired the idea of being loved. It wasn’t for everyone and it wasn’t for him. He took what he could get and accepted that his lot in life was nothing more. But he met you and it hit him square in the face: that he’d stopped expecting joy. That he was fine because he never expected what he deeply and desperately wanted: to be loved.
And that’s why you were terrifying. Because he was getting used to you. Getting used to being wanted. Getting used to the idea that he could be wanted. Sometimes he thought he was expecting it. Expecting you to let him in your arms, in your life. He had to remind himself that he wasn’t owed anything, didn’t deserve anything. It was the other way around: he was in debt for everything he had been given by you, for being given you at all.
*
They say if you can’t beat them, join them. It was an expression Yoongi was apparently taking very seriously, as he slid his tongue down your torso, fingers already slipping through your lips, sinking deep into your soft, wet hole.
You were less keen to join Namjoon and Suri in being overheard so you pressed a pillow to your face and moaned into it, still louder than you’d wanted to be. You bit down hard on your lip as your back arched from the bed. Every time, it was an aria performed like a concerto, Yoongi doing the work of a full orchestra suite at once. It was lethal and moving the ease with which he played you and it was somehow never the same twice. Never had anyone spent as much time with his face between your legs and it showed: he had learnt, with apparent ease, seemingly everything about what got you off: had learnt how to do it in a rush, how to take his time, how to make you squirt (a surprise more to you than him), how to edge you until you wanted to die, how to make you come and somehow keep coming. He had, on one unfortunately memorable occasion, given you a charley horse and a third orgasm simultaneously.
You were approaching your second now, with sweat seeping into the bedsheets, and Yoongi’s tongue laving at your clit, his fingers rocking inside you. It was suffocating with the pillow smothering you, your hot breath making it damp, your breathing thick and swampy so it made you light-headed. You couldn’t have kept any quieter even if you’d be able to try; all your attention and energy fell on the mouth at the apex of your legs and the fingers inside you. An experience so in-body, it almost pushed you all the way out again, like your consciousness was hovering outside your skin, alert and alive, an electrical wire in a puddle of water.
You came hard and gasped for breath when you pulled the pillow from your face. Yoongi kissed his way back up to you, sticky marks all over your sweat-wet skin. He was damp, too, tiny curls of hair stuck to his forehead, the T-shirt he slept in stuck to his back. You peeled it back, ran your hands over him, were reaching for the waistband of his boxers when he pulled away.
“I’ll wash up and then make breakfast, sound good?” he asked, climbing out of bed and reaching for trousers.
The words died in your mouth. You could see that he was hard, see the discomfort in the way he adjusted himself as he dressed; you wished you could see into his brain. It wasn’t the first time, not even the second or third and you didn’t want to have the same conversation again, with another couple in the house, with company. Knew it wouldn’t get you anywhere if you did. Knew he would not fuck you nor would he give you a real reason why not. You rolled onto your side, away from the door and pulled the covers around you, despite the heat, despite the sweat. You lay and you stewed and you wondered just what exactly you were doing wrong.
*
You tried to forget about it and it had been easy until you glanced over to see Namjoon swat Suri’s backside with his book, saw her retaliate by squirting water on him from her bottle, saw him pull her down in a tumble that was entirely playful until she kissed him. You turned away because you’d already heard enough, you didn’t need to see their foreplay.
*
“Did you guys buy ice-cream?” Suri asked later that evening.
“No,” you answered. “Do you want some?”
Suri nodded.
“Yeah, there’s a shop down the road; I’ll go and get some. Anyone else want any?”
“I’ll come, too!”
Suri looked surprised, her mouth open (to put you off), then she shut it and shrugged.
“Ok.”
It was quiet, initially, just the soft rush of wind in the tops of the trees and the slight crunch of the gravel track under your feet.
“Can I ask you something?”
The rhythm of Suri’s feet faltered and then started smoothly again. Her answer was slow to arrive.
“Yeah, I guess.”
Embarrassment was worming through you, on its way to stifle you, to choke you so the words wouldn’t come out.
“You and Namjoon have good sex, right?”
Suri didn’t just falter but stopped completely. She looked at you guardedly, suspicious. You could feel her attempting to put distance between you, even as her feet kept still.
“Is that... ar-, we’re trying to be quiet,” she answered eventually.
You laughed not because it was funny but because you were nervous.
“No, it’s not about that. It's... I mean, you do, right?”
“Yes.”
You were stuttering over your next question, not having planned this conversation, not really knowing what you wanted out of it.
“Don’t you and Yoongi?” Suri asked, beating you to it.
“We do. Kind of. Yes, but also...”
Your face was flaming, hot pricks of sweat beading in your scalp at the embarrassment of this, at having to ask someone about your sex life—someone that wasn’t Taehyung anyway—someone who definitely did not want to be having this conversation either.
“The thing is,” you persevered, “he goes down on me, like a lot. Or not a lot but sometimes, well, often, he...”
Your fists clenched and unclenched at your sides.
“He goes down on me and then we don’t have sex and I don’t know what I’m doing wrong or why he doesn’t want to fuck me.”
You let it out in a rush, looking somewhere over Suri’s left shoulder because you couldn’t bear to look at her directly, to see her face reacting. She was quiet for a moment or two and you stewed, boiling in your self-consciousness, steaming with shame.
“Have you asked him?”
“Yes, of course! He just says he doesn’t want to or ‘it’s ok’ or that I don’t have to reciprocate or that he’s fine. But I'm not fine! I’m clearly shit at sex! And blowjobs because he doesn’t want those either!”
And it was the embarrassment, mostly, but you felt tears burn in your eyes, felt your bottom lip wobble and as much as you did not want to have this conversation, you certainly didn’t want to cry during it.
“Does Namjoon ever...” and you couldn’t finish the question because you knew the answer and didn’t want to hear it.
“Nah, if he’s even the slightest bit turned on, he’s doing something about it. Well, I'm doing something about it, you know what I mean.”
You cursed softly, tried to kick at the gravel in your flipflops.
“I just wish he would tell me what I’m doing wrong so I can fix it.”
Your embarrassment, bright enough to have burnt away now, had left you sad, miserable in fact, that you couldn’t please your boyfriend and he was being too nice to tell you so. Sad because you couldn’t give him what you wanted to, what he gave you. Miserable that you were failing where you wanted to succeed.
“Do you ask him directly at the time?”
“Huh?”
“I mean, look, I’m the last person who should be giving anyone relationship advice of any kind, ok? I really don’t know how to do anything but are you asking him why he doesn’t want to have sex right now, or have you talked about it at a completely unsexy time? Because Namjoon is barely sapient when his dick is hard; his brain is entirely in his crotch.
“Literally the only thing I have learnt over the last year is that, as horrible as it is, you have to talk about stuff, especially when you don’t want to talk about it. So maybe just talk to him again but- oh, I don’t know! I’m not good at this. But if he’s not given you a proper answer, make him give you one. You should at least know what the problem is, if there even is one, right?”
You thought about it. Thought about how quickly you let the subject drop, let Yoongi brush you off because you didn’t really want to have the conversation at all, didn’t want to know the answer—or rather you didn’t want to hear Yoongi say it.
You nodded, thanked her quietly for her help and you walked the rest of the way to the shop in silence. You picked an ice-cream at random and a random one for Yoongi, too, then you walked back. Suri tried to make conversation with you and you were grateful for it, for her. You didn’t know if she liked you, found her impossible to read, and often got the impression that she’d rather be anywhere else, but she was making an effort and it meant something to you.
*
“Can I ask you something?” you started timidly as you settled in bed that night.
“Yeah.”
You were quiet for a moment and Yoongi frowned, trying to work out what had upset you. You had been quieter than usual all evening and he wondered if Suri had said something to you; you had come back from the shop with two melona ice-creams, which you hated.
“Am I bad in bed?”
He blanched. Didn’t really understand the question because you weren't. Not in the slightest. The sex he had with you was as close to perfect as sex could be. He sometimes felt deranged in how much he wanted you, felt dirty for it even, like it somehow besmirched your honour for him to think about you when he touched himself. Like he would contaminate you with his need to have you. It often took all he had in him not to fuck you.
“What do you mean?”
Your mouth was pouty and your eyebrows drawn close. You didn’t look angry for which he was grateful, but you were sad and frustrated for which he was not.
“You go down on me all the time and then we don’t have sex after! You don’t let me reciprocate! I can’t do it better if you don’t tell me what I’m doing wrong in the first place!”
It was like static was fuzzing up his brain. He knew the words but couldn’t understand them coming out of your mouth. He had thought he was doing the right thing. Giving not taking. Or taking only sometimes, but keeping the balance firmly tipped towards you. You always offered because of course you did: you were wonderful and kind and, for reasons he could rarely fathom, you cared about him.
“Yoongi!”
In a tone he almost never heard, genuinely annoyed, if also pleading and anxious.
He blinked, tried to find an answer.
“I don’t know what you mean.”
“Of course you do! It happened this morning! It happens at least half the time! I don’t understand why you don’t want it.”
And his heart was suddenly hammering because he could see that he had got it wrong but he wasn’t quite sure how. Colour drained from his face because you were upset, really, genuinely upset and it was his fault and if he could have squashed himself like a bug under his own shoe, he would have.
He tried to see what he had not seen, what he had missed, what maybe he had ignored. Could only see instead the times before, with other partners, when he’d try to initiate and be rebuffed, when he never asked for anything because he knew he wouldn’t get it anyway and, besides, it was ugly to ask, to want, to demand for something someone else didn’t want to give. He had spent so much time and effort learning his partners’ bodies, trying to make up for everything he lacked. He knew he was good at it. Knew it, was sure of it. Wasn’t he? Was it not enough? Was he still missing something?
“I do,” he said, voice hushed as though it hurt to say. “I do want it.”
“Then why do you always brush me off?”
He felt stripped like old paint. Had to look at you, though the embarrassment was excruciating.
“I didn’t think you really wanted it.”
And it sounded stupid when he said it out loud, really stupid, but it was the truth.
“What?!”
You really needed to hear him say it again. That he didn’t think you wanted it, even though you had explicitly asked. Even though you had sometimes tried, feebly, to insist.
“I...”
But he didn’t say it again, looked as though he couldn’t. Looked as desperate as you felt.
“Why do you think I would ask, I would offer, if I didn’t want to actually do it?”
“Because you give. You’re... You’re nice to me.”
“Oh, fuck.”
And you took a deep breath, tried to blink away the tears, sent them rolling down your cheeks instead.
“Yoongi, what the fuck?”
You saw him move, inch away just slightly, and you remembered who you were dealing with. Because he was Yoongi, your Yoongi, and he was warm and soft and sweet and funny and smart and you loved him so much that you forgot sometimes he still hated himself. Saw his denial now not of you but of his own desires. Remembered how long he had spent silently loving you without asking you to so much as hear a confession. Remembered how close you had both come to absolutely nothing at all, his disbelief overpowering his belief and his heart and his hope.
You could see it from his side. See what he was trying to do, even if it was madness. Even if it was wrong. You could feel him retreat even now, tucking himself back inside his tortoise shell.
“I’m so-”
You didn’t let him finish, would not let him apologise. You kissed him, tasted the salt of your own tears between you, leant into him, let your arms wrap around him and pressed your lips to his, to his cheek, to his hairline, to his jaw.
“Yoongi, I love you.”
“I know,” he replied, but you weren’t sure if he really did.
“I’m glad you think I'm such a nice person and everything, but I promise, I’m not offering out of the goodness of my heart. I’m asking because I actually want to. Like, really want to. Like, really enjoy myself and want you to enjoy yourself and want us to both enjoy ourselves together, y’know?”
He nodded, couldn’t quite hold your gaze.
“I’m serious. You need to know that I want to fuck you, ok?”
And you laughed, though you were trying not to, even if it did feel a little ridiculous, having to convince your boyfriend that you wanted to have sex.
He nodded again.
“You promise I’m not a bad lay?”
And you watched his face flick through shock and outrage and a kind of disbelief that become laughter.
“You are not a bad lay, I promise.”
“And what about blowjobs?”
“Also good.”
“You promise?”
And you sat yourself in his lap, legs straddling his hips, sinking yourself low, pressing against him.
“I promise.”
“What if I say you have to prove it?”
His head cocked to the side, playful, squinting at you, and you didn’t think that it was over, that he was suddenly convinced now, but with the burden of Being Terrible at Sex lifted off you, you felt not only lighter, but the deep, heavy, familiar drag of desire raise its head.
“Prove it?”
You shifted your hips again, deniably but definitely, and put your lips to his ear.
“Prove that you like it when I suck your cock.”
His hands gripped you tightly; you felt the bob in his throat when he swallowed as you pressed kisses down his neck and a stirring in his boxers that you sank even lower to press yourself against.
“I’ll prove it if you prove that you like it when I fuck you.”
“Deal.”
*
You were late up that next morning and Namjoon greeted you both from the back porch.
“Hey, a little request: could you maybe be louder when you fuck? Suri and I are actually sleeping a little too well.”
this is an extra chapter of the so it goes series.
—pairing: rapper!yoongi x reader
—rating: +18
—genre: established relationship, ex fwb, angst, fluff
—warnings/tags: implied smut, lots of angst, fluff, subtle talk about aborti0n, DON’T trust my poor knowledge in contraceptive methods and use condoms!! english is not my first language btw
—words: 7.6k
a/note: this is proof that if you ask me enough, I'll finish writing my wips!! it's been a long time but I finally get to post the surprise drabble I've been planning and it makes me sososo happy to come back to this couple 😭 I missed them so much I just hope you missed them as much as I did!! BTW I was planning to post this after two other drabbles, so if you read any additional information it's because this was intended to be posted after that, but i wanted to post this so badly😭 so here it is!! hehe anyway enjoy!!
A few years ago, when you and Yoongi were beginning to be a thing and you still lived with your best friend, Nayeon, while he lived alone in his big apartment, he picked up this habit of begging you to stay the night with him every time you visited, even though he knew you couldn’t. You used to say no, trying hard to ignore the way he kissed your neck and sneaked his hands under your blouse while explaining that, if you said yes, he was willing to wake up early and drive you to your first class the next day. You'd think that after the first or maybe even the second time he tried this, the effect would wear off, but you ended up agreeing every single time.
Back then everything was so new to him, he couldn’t remember the last time he liked someone that much, he didn’t know what was happening to him and why he wanted to spend every night with you, why he couldn’t keep his hands off you. Sure you were pretty, sure you were beautiful and funny, and your lips tasted like strawberries and you looked at him like one else ever did, maybe it had something to do with that, who knew? The only thing he knew was that he felt like a teenager everytime you kissed him, or every time you ran your fingers through his hair or every time you were naked under him, or on top of him, or anywhere close to him for that matter.
It took Yoongi a few hits, ten drunk nights and way too many days to realize that you were the only thing that he needed, that the world only made sense if you were by his side.
With time, Yoongi learned to kiss slowly, to make love slowly, to take things with ease; he learned that you were going nowhere, but there were still those moments where he felt he couldn’t get enough of you; like tonight, to be exact.
You were sure that in the last four years of dating Yoongi you had made it clear enough that you were a city girl, and you were certain your boyfriend knew that. You loved the noise and the chaos—the people bumping into each other on the streets, the busy days and nights. It wasn’t something you planned to give up anytime soon; this was the perfect time in your life to embrace the city's hustle. You’d have plenty of time for a quiet life when you got older.
Yoongi liked the city too—he enjoyed the view from his apartment window and the convenience of ordering food at any hour of the night. But he also loved road trips and sleeping in the middle of nowhere in a tent, bonfires, fishing and swimming in lakes. Yoongi had always been into camping, but instead of planning a trip with his good old friend Seokjin, who didn’t mind sleeping in a tent and loved fishing, he invited you—someone who hated bugs and couldn’t stand the idea of walking more than three minutes to find a bathroom.
You were still trying to decide whether not being able to say no to Yoongi was a problem, but it was his last free week before going back on tour. When he looked at you with starry eyes and asked you to go on a trip with him, which included spending the last two days sleeping in a tent, you couldn’t say no.
It was only two days, you were sure you could endure not sleeping in a proper bed for that long if that made him happy, you made the effort of not complaining just for tonight, after all you only had tickets to go visit him on tour in exactly five weeks, you were going to miss him.
It was easy not to complain when Yoongi’s plans for your last night together were exclusively romantic; he cooked for you, built a campfire and spent the rest of the night stargazing until it was too cold to be outside, and when you were inside the tent he made sure to have hot water bags under the blankets, but they were no use when he was determined to get you naked.
Did you mention that it was still winter?
Now you were trapped in a tent with him, straddling him as he kissed you deeply and gripped your thighs, begging you to ride him against your lips. That was when you started to complain.
You felt your whole body shivering when Yoongi’s warm hands pulled your t-shirt over your head, leaving you almost naked. You hugged your torso, attempting to cover your breasts as you sat straight on top of your boyfriend, who was comfortably laying on the sleeping bag, fully clothed.
“Yoongi, I’m cold.” You whined.
“C’mon, it’s going to wear off” He tried to convince you, rubbing his palms over your shoulders to keep you warm. You shook your head, laying your head on his still clothed chest as he covered your bare back with the blanket. It was easy for him to say that when he was wearing sweatpants and a long sleeve t-shirt.
You knew that Yoongi was already missing you. He was fully aware that after tonight, he wouldn’t see you for a whole month and he wanted to make it last as long as he could, to hold you and kiss you as much as you let him. He had gotten too used to you—used to sleeping and waking up next to you, having you all to himself—but it became a problem every time he had to leave for work, it was impossible not to miss you. You still had texts, calls and FaceTime, but he was also taking into account time difference, work, and the fact that all of that wasn’t the real thing. And if you were honest, you were already missing him too.
“What if I catch a cold?” You mumbled over his shirt.
Yoongi kissed the top of your head, running his hands down your bare back and sending chills to your spine. How was he able to get you almost naked but you didn’t even get the chance to take off his t-shirt? “It’s not that cold.” He said, not willing to give up.
You raised your head to look at him, frowning “Says the person who’s still fully clothed.”
He huffed, flipping you over to leave you under him. Suddenly, warmth rushed over you as you felt his body hovering over your frame. He was quick to take off his own t-shirt, trying to make you happy, but he quickly realized that maybe you were right, it was fucking cold, but he wasn’t going to back down.
“Happy now?”
“No, it’s freezing out there!” You kept complaining “Why do we have to do it without clothes? I don’t mind clothes, I actually think that doing it while being dressed is quite hot.”
You threw your arms around his neck, bringing him closer to you. Even though you were in fact turned on from the kissing and grinding session you had a few moments ago, you still were thinking about the logistics of fucking inside the tent.
Yoongi scoffed, amused. “And I actually think that you being naked is quite hot, too.” He said, sneaking his face in the crook of your neck to trail down little kisses, nibbling the skin softly. “C’mon, baby. I won’t see you for weeks, let me make love to you.”
You tried not to roll your eyes. “You had been using that excuse the whole trip.” And you’ve fallen for it every time. His plans for this trip were very simple: fishing, camping and fucking you on every opportunity he had. It was not like you were against it, it has been a long time since you and him had time only for the two of you.
“But isn’t it true?” He gazed up, looking at you with his soft eyes, his hair falling like a curtain on his face. “I’m gonna miss you.”
You took a second to observe the tenderness of his features, to take in the softness of his voice, and for a moment there you knew why it was so hard to say no to him, you just didn’t want to say no.
You closed your eyes, scrunching your nose. “We are gonna make such a mess.” You whined, but he just chuckled, knowing he won.
“I’ll take care of it, I promise.” He said with a soft voice, reaching for your lips as he roamed his hands towards your chest. You didn’t exactly know how he was going to “take care of it”, but his hands were gentle, the kiss was slow and when he opened his mouth to let his tongue slip past your lips, you were too into it to keep protesting about it.
As you sat on the cold bathroom floor of the home you shared with Yoongi, you tried to remind yourself of two basic things that you hoped would stop the sinking feeling in your chest. First, three weeks without Yoongi never killed anyone, this was something you knew from experience, Yoongi’s job demanded him to travel all the time, you were used to it, or at least you were supposed to be. Second, you were an independent woman (right?). You have been an independent woman since you were eighteen when you moved to Seoul alone, since you started a new life in a new city on your own. You woke up at six am everyday, worked hard your whole shift, paid the bills every month and managed to keep your house in order every day of the week. Sure, you loved Yoongi, and he loved you, and you could never imagine a life without him, but you didn’t need him, you wanted him. He wasn’t an extension of you, you were your own person, but why did you feel like the world was about to end right now if he was not there?
Crying your heart out like a five year old kid, you remembered the only time you had to take a pregnancy test, and how it looked nothing like this.
Four years ago when you and Yoongi still didn’t kiss in front of your friends, when he still thought twice before holding your hand in public but still had the nerve of sneaking in your bed. That seemed like a hundred years ago, a universe away, but no, it was not too long ago when you were stubborn and kind of irresponsible for agreeing with him as he kissed your neck and ran his hands down your thighs while asking you if it was okay for him to “pull out” that night, since both of you completely forgot about condoms. You winced at the memory, but in your defense, you were too far gone to say no, take a cold shower and kiss him goodnight. You agreed only for that night, but three weeks later you were three days late and losing your mind, the only logical thing to do was to take a pregnancy test that, of course, came negative, but to this day you couldn’t shake the anxious feeling that you felt in your stomach those minutes before the negative sign appeared, and you couldn’t forget how pale Yoongi’s face turned when you told him about it.
And now you were there, one hand covering your face while the other held a pregnancy test—only this time, it was positive.
The one on your hand wasn’t the only one, no. There were two other positive tests laying on the floor in front of you, and even if you wanted to not trust the results, they couldn’t be all wrong, right? The plus sign was very clear in each one of them and you were five days late. The problem was that you were on the pill, you had been on the pill for the last couple years and this never happened to you, this wasn’t something normal or a simple mistake.
You breathed out, trying not to panic. You got up on your bare feet to look at yourself in the mirror. You were a mess, that was not a surprise at all, your face was all swollen for the amount of time you have been crying and your hair was a big nest above your head. You washed your face, attempting to remain calm and evaluating your options. You glanced at your phone resting on the sink, and an overwhelming urge to call your mother surged within you, but as you imagined how the conversation would go, you quickly realized it wouldn’t be a good idea.
Your mother was not nosy, but she could be a little dense, a bit complicated, and it was not what you needed right now. You were sure that calling her while having a mental breakdown was going to drive her crazy, and consequently, drive you crazy too. She would want to know every single detail, date, place and hour to understand the situation better, and you would have to explain something you didn’t even understand yet. You could imagine the conversation, she would try to explain every contraceptive method like you were a teenager and ask why you didn’t use a condom, because you knew she would ask, and you didn’t want to explain to her how you went on vacation with your boyfriend to have a bunch of condomless sex, the thought alone made you want to vomit.
Calling your mother was not an option, not only because talking to her on the phone was complicated enough, but because she was in a different city, which brought you to discard calling Nayeon too, who was on vacation with her boyfriend (yes, boyfriend, that sounded ridiculous to you, too.)
The last option was something you couldn't even fathom doing unless you were desperate, but you know what they say, desperate times call desperate measures, so you blew your nose, brushed your hair and called the only person in this city who would come running without asking any questions, Jungkook.
Breaking the news to the person in front of you wasn’t easy, especially when the words you needed to say were as unreal as they sounded. You didn’t look much better, you spent the next thirty minutes that Jungkook took to arrive crying, as Holly, the brown fluffy dog, looked at you like you just went mad, the worst thing was that you weren’t far from it. It was difficult to keep it together when your mind refused to look at the bright side of things, when you couldn’t call your mom and Yoongi was in another country, but when Jungkook rang your bell and entered through the door, you tried your best to smile at him and act like you weren’t in the middle of a mental breakdown.
Your act wasn’t convincing, your friend looked at you like you were about to tell him that you killed someone and you needed help to hide the body.
You would have never recur to a man other than Yoongi for this kind of situation, but you decided to trust your ten years of friendship with the man in front of you and hope that he could be of any help.
“You are what?” Said Jungkook, standing in the middle of the living room with his eyes wide open, trying to understand the meaning of your words.
There, in your pajamas and your hands on your hips, you closed your eyes shut, sighing. “Jungkook…” You said through gritted teeth.
“I’m serious.” He said, letting his backpack drop to the floor. “I crossed half the city to get here, are you not kidding me right now?”
“I’m serious, too!” You whined “I’m not kidding, I don’t know what to do.”
He slowly approached you, walking towards the couch to take a seat. He suddenly felt his blood pressure dropping, his stomach sinking and his mouth dry as if he was the one developing a human organism inside his body. “Are you sure?” He murmured. “Are you not having one of those crises you had when you were a teenager? I remember that time in college when you freaked out when you thought you were pregnant because some guy-”
“Jungkook, I’m sure.” You interrupted him, already knowing the whole story, but this time it was not just you overreacting. “My period is late and I took three tests, all positive.”
He gulped, letting the room fall silent for a few seconds as both of you contemplated what that meant. You knew he was trying his best not to freak out, so you were grateful for his reaction, at least he didn’t faint like you expected him to do, but he was still white as a sheet, trying to find a solution in his head as though you had told him he was the one who was going to be a father.
“What are we gonna do?” He said under his breath.
“What am I gonna do?” You corrected him, sitting next to him “You are supposed to help me.”
Jungkook took one hard look at you, looking terrified. “How?”
“God, I shouldn’t have called you.” You rolled your eyes.
“No, I mean, what do you want to do?” He said. “Did you tell Yoongi?”
“Of course not.” You replied, feeling your eyes getting teary, but still trying to hold back.
“Do you want to… tell him?” He continued to ask.
You sniffed “I mean, I don’t know how.” You pouted “I’m seeing him in two weeks, I don’t know if I can wait that long.”
He threw himself back against the couch, sinking in the cushions. It was like Jungkook’s life flashed before his eyes, how come he was discussing this with you right now? He still felt like you were kids, there was no way you were pregnant right now. “How did this happen?” He murmured to himself, looking at the blank wall in front of him.
“Is it necessary for me to explain it?” You cried, snuggling closer to him as you rested your head on his shoulder.
“Did you not use condoms?” He scolded you like he was your mother.
You shifted your weight uneasily, eyes darting down to your socks. “We don’t… use condoms.” You cleared your throat, the words coming out hushed and hesitant. “I’m on the pill, I don’t know what happened.”
On second thought, that wasn’t something Jungkook wanted to know. It was like finding out how his parents had sex, he squirmed at the thought, shifting in his place. “Can you not call your doctor?” He suggested, his voice laced with uncertainty.
You paused, considering it. It was probably the most logical thing Jungkook could say, but you weren’t sure if your doctor could do anything about it.
“Even if I call her and tell her what's going on, it’s not like I can get a refund.” You huffed, a dry smile tugging at your lips.
He raised an eyebrow. “Well…” he began, dragging the word out. “In some way, you could get a refund.” You blinked at him, opening your eyes wide in surprise. “I mean only if you want to!”
You were so nervous you wanted to laugh. It wasn’t like the thought didn’t cross your mind for a moment, but only when you tried to evaluate your options; if you were being honest, you couldn’t see yourself getting rid of the baby—or whatever organism had been living rent-free in your body for the past three weeks. Jungkook looked terrified that you might explode at him, especially when it seemed like you were on the verge of tears, but his question made you think, if you didn’t want to get rid of it, what was that you wanted to do?
You sank your shoulders, feeling completely lost. “That’s the problem.” You murmured “I don’t know if I want a refund.”
Jungkook stood still for a moment, his eyes softening as he watched you. His thoughts swirled, trying to grasp the weight of your words.
"Would Yoongi want a refund?" He asked, his tone lighter than before, but the sincerity in his voice was unmistakable. Despite the attempt at humor, his eyes betrayed the concern he was masking with the joke.
A shaky exhale left your lips, the weight of uncertainty pulling you down. “I don’t know…” Was the only thing you could say.
“But do you know if Yoongi wanted… kids?” He said as if that was a forbidden word. “I mean, do you want them?”
It wasn’t like you didn’t know what Yoongi wanted. You sighed, suddenly remembering all those times when the idea of a family came up in conversations, between drunken thoughts, before falling asleep, at dinner with his parents and on the ride home when he apologized on his mother’s behalf when she asked when you were going to give her grandchildren. His soft eyes, his hand on your tight and the view of the future laying in front of you like a promise. The thought warmed your heart for a moment, but the truth was that there was a difference between talking about it and actually having kids.
“We’ve talked about it…” You admitted. “But we’ve never planned it, let alone now that he’s on tour.”
Jungkook hummed, still thinking.
“But you both agreed to have kids at some point.” He affirmed, and you just nodded.
It was in that moment where you realized you were crying again, tears slowly falling down your cheeks as you stood in silence, contemplating the overwhelming weight of the situation.
“Fuck, don’t cry.” Jungkook said, rushing to wrap his arms around you, he enveloped you in a tight hug. As soon as you buried your face into his chest, something inside you gave away. You began sobbing against his hoodie, the tears flowed freely and uncontrollable, unable to hold yourself back. “C’mon, it’s okay, you’re okay. Nothing bad’s gonna happen.” His voice was soft but firm, holding you tightly. He pulled back just enough to look at you, his thumb gently wiping away a tear from your cheek, his gaze filled with nothing but concern. “You don’t need to have it all figured out right now. Let’s go step by step, okay?”
You nodded, feeling like a kid lost in the mall. “Okay, if you want to see him as soon as possible, you have to change your flight first.” He said, but you shook your head, trying not to panic.
“He’s going to ask why.” You said, your voice hoarse “What am I going to tell him?”
He kept silent, his eyes fixed on a distant point as he was trying to come up with a solution.
“Let’s not tell him.” He proposed.
“What do you mean let’s not tell him?”
“I’m leaving for tour next weekend, you should come with me and not tell him.” He kept going “Say that you missed him and you wanted to surprise him or some shit like that, and when you get him alone you talk to him about this.”
Now you were reminded that Jungkook had to leave to join Yoongi on tour in just a few days, you completely forgot about that. It was not like you couldn’t get on an airplane alone, but if your friend was going to be there you were sure it would make things easier.
You couldn’t believe it. After so many years you were there, sad and upset and still with the same idiot as a friend, willing to follow whatever plan he was going to make for you. You didn’t know if the plan actually sounded good or you were losing your mind for listening to Jungkook.
“Jungkook, Yoongi texts me all the time, he facetimes me everyday. It’s impossible to travel to another country without him noticing.”
“It’s not impossible, I’m gonna help you.” He insisted “If he texts you, you say you’re at home, if he wants to facetime you, you say you’re busy, turn off your location, it shouldn't be difficult.”
“It is difficult, what if he realizes I turned off my location?” You groaned, running your finger through your hair exasperatedly.
“You say it stopped working or something! C’mon, I thought you were smarter than me.”
You threw yourself back against the couch, crossing your arms on your chest, it was almost comical that you were considering the idea. Your friend could sense the hesitation in every move you made, he could only hope that you agreed because his mind couldn’t come up with another idea if his life depended on it.
“Jungkook, if he suspects anything…” You raised a finger, digging it on his chest.
“He won’t suspect a thing,” He affirmed confidently. “When have any of my plans ever gone wrong? Never. Trust me, by the time you get back home, you’ll have already decided to name your baby after me.”
You rolled your eyes, unable to hide your laugh and punching him in the arm playfully. The tension was still there, and you still felt an inexplicable ache in your chest that wasn’t going away anytime soon, but being there with Jungkook made you feel that this wasn’t the end of the world, nor of your life, but the beginning of it.
Jungkook's plan wasn’t the master plan he had been bragging about the whole airplane ride, but it worked. A few days later, after a few calls and arrangements to change your flight, after another three mental breakdowns and several crying sessions in the shower, you had somehow arrived in Berlin without Yoongi suspecting a thing. You had managed to dodge facetime calls and weird questions, maybe Yoongi missed you so much that he didn’t have time to question why you couldn’t wait two more weeks to see him when you arrived at the hotel and hugged in the hall, because, if he were honest, he couldn’t wait two more weeks to see you either.
Yoongi was happy with the surprise, you went to see his show that night and after arriving to his hotel room he made love to you like he hadn’t seen you in a year, kissing your neck, grabbing your waist, murmuring things in your ear, saying how much he loved you, how much he missed you. For a moment it was like nothing changed, the two of you sharing what happened these last three weeks tangled between sheets, laughing between kisses as you ignored why you were there in the first place.
“You can’t keep spending time away from me.” He said, hovering over you as he left a small kiss on your lips. “I’ll keep you in my pocket if it’s necessary.”
You sighed, knowing that you couldn’t keep this a secret for much longer, but for tonight, you’ll let it slide.
You didn’t know when you were returning home, but you promised yourself that before leaving for the next city, you would have to break the news to Yoongi, which was becoming more difficult by the second, because if you were good at something, that was procrastinating. It was absurd, a few days ago you were crying because all you wanted to do was to have your boyfriend by your side and now you couldn’t even look him in the eye without feeling like you were about to throw up, and your mind wasn’t helping at all. All those doubts invaded your head, attempting to drive you crazy, making you believe you were not ready to tell him yet.
Three days later, when you finished the last show in Berlin, Jungkook gave you a knowing look as you were leaving the arena holding Yoongi’s hand. He knew that you haven’t said a thing to Yoongi yet, he was all over you like he was your mother, asking you if you were okay, if you needed anything, when you were going to tell Yoongi, it almost made you regret telling him, but you knew he was right.
A night was all you needed, just one night to gather your thoughts and practice what you were going to say. You couldn’t keep declining glasses of wine forever, you could only hope no one noticed how weird you were acting, how sensitive you were since you stepped foot out the plane. Time was running out; you knew that when Yoongi invited you to an after-party before the whole crew left Berlin. Instead of telling him the truth, you simply said you weren’t in the mood to go, hoping that your time alone would help to gather enough courage to confess.
You weren’t trying to keep Yoongi with you, you told him a million times that he should go without you and that there was no problem with it. You hid under the blanket and hugged your body, watching him change his shirt into a black tee. He ran his finger through his hair in an attempt to tame it, looking at himself into the mirror and stealing a glance towards your reflection. He knew you too well not to notice the sad expression on your face as you scrolled through your phone, searching for a Disney movie to watch while he was out. He turned around, approaching the bed and kneeling beside you to catch your eyes.
“Are you sure you don’t want to come?” He asked once again.
“Yeah, I just need one night.” You said, which was true. You needed a few more moments to finish fighting with your own thoughts.
“But are you okay?” He continued to ask, cupping your jaw in his palm.
“Of course, why wouldn’t I be?” The words came out of your mouth with more emotion than you intended to, he couldn’t ignore it.
“I don’t know… You look like you want me to stay.”
There was a beat of silence in the room. The sweetness of his voice broke your heart into a million pieces. You couldn’t say yes and make him stay just because you were feeling down and you really had no problem with him leaving, but you didn’t have the heart to tell him no either. You were full of contradictions, wanting to be alone but wanting to be with him at the same time, something in your chest pulled, wanting him close.
“What makes you think that?” You murmured, fighting the urge to cry. God, you were too sensitive.
“Mmm… The Disney movie kinda gives you away.”
You huffled, playing with the fingers of his hands without looking at him. “I don’t want to ruin your fun… You should go, I mean it.”
He scoffed “You won’t, there’s going to be a bunch of parties until the tour ends, this one is nothing.”
“They’ll miss you…”
“You’ll miss me, too.”
“But do you want to stay, though?” You asked him a whisper.
“Of course I want to… But you have to let me choose the movie.” He warned, automatically making you giggle.
Letting Yoongi choose the movie was the worst decision you have made in the last week so far, but you felt grateful he couldn’t see you as he hugged your waist and rested his chin on your shoulder, because as the ending of Inside Out approached, you were sure you were about to cry.
When you arrived at the airport you promised yourself not to cry anymore, not in front of Yoongi at least, but your body was full of emotions you didn’t even know you could feel. It was certain that you’ve always been a sensitive person, you cried at the drop of a hat, Yoongi was familiar with that, but now it was impossible to stop it.
You’d stopped paying attention to the screen entirely; one by one, your darkest thoughts crept in, pressing heavily on your chest. The feelings you’d tried so hard to bury rose up, churning uneasily in your stomach, and when you least expected it, tears began to fall down your cheeks.
A sob escaped from your lips at the same time the main character began to cry, making your boyfriend shift in his place.
“Are you crying?” Yoongi suddenly asked, softly grabbing your shoulder to turn you around. He looked at your face, at first amused, thinking you were crying because of the movie. But his expression softened when he saw the sadness in your eyes and the damp lashes heavy with tears. You covered your face, unable to hold back, and the sobs came harder, each one swallowing the words you couldn’t say. “Hey, hey, what’s wrong?” He reached for your arms, attempting to pull them away from your face, but you turned away, burying your face in the pillow.
“Nothing,” You lied, desperate to avoid this conversation again. “I’m just… emotional, I don’t know.” Your voice cracked, hoarse, as the emotions you were trying to hide slipped through.
Yoongi was confused, but mostly worried. You had been weird since the day you arrived, he would be a fool not to notice.
He turned the light of the lamp on the nightstand, illuminating the room with a soft orange light and turned the tv off.
“Hey, look at me.” He softly said, brushing your hair with his fingers, it only made you want to cry harder. “I know something’s up, I’m not a dummy.”
You turned to him, hitting him with the most heartbreaking sight he could witness, your face soaked in tears, nose and eyes red as you pouted at him. What was so wrong to make you cry like that?
“What do you know?” Was the only thing you could say, daring to be upset at him when he hadn't done anything wrong.
He frowned at your tone. “Well, I know that you suddenly came here two weeks earlier just because. You are weird, you almost don’t eat, your suitcase is almost untouched like you’re going to leave anytime soon, you look… sad? I don’t know, baby, you tell me.”
You kept silent for a second, wiping the tears with the sleeve of your t-shirt. Uncomfortable, you sat in the bed, taking a deep breath as your mind completely blanked. You didn’t realize yet, but there was no way to get out of this one.
Contrary to popular belief, your boyfriend was kind of a dummy. You confirmed it when he decided to say the following words.
“Is it because of Lily?” He said, making you dart your eyes at him. “You don’t like her being here?
You couldn’t blame Yoongi for not understanding why you were crying, but the suggestion that you were jealous of one of his coworkers made you want to punch him. Lily was one of the new producers at Yoongi’s label, and a few months ago, Yoongi had noticed that you were starting to feel uneasy about the amount of time she was spending with him, which led him to realize that you were beginning to feel unexpectedly jealous of her. Yes, that was a whole deal back then, but it was water under the bridge now; the fact that she was touring with him and the boys didn’t faze you. The idea that he thought you were crying because of her was ridiculous.
“Yoongi, are you kidding me?”
“No, I’m not.” He defended himself. “The last time I saw you we were fine, but now you’re here crying and I don’t have a clue what I did wrong.”
Suddenly, you felt your heart sink. He hadn’t done anything wrong; it was you who was an emotional wreck, struggling to keep your feelings in check. A wave of guilt washed over you for the mess you’d just created, convinced there must have been ways to prevent all this conflict. But now, all you could do was sit there, tangled in the aftermath of your own emotions.
You sighed, defeated. “You didn’t do anything wrong.” You said “And it’s not about Lily, I couldn’t care less about that… It’s just that- … Yoongi…”
“Baby…” He said in the same tone as you, “What is it?”
As Yoongi’s gentle question hung in the air, you felt a knot tighten in your chest. The truth sat heavy on your tongue, you glanced away, fidgeting with the edge of your sleeve, buying time as your thoughts spiraled. “Yoongi, my period is late.” You confessed, observing Yoongi’s eyes go wide, his brows lifting in surprise as he tried to understand what he just heard. “It’s been a week now, I don’t know what happened. I tried to wait, but I had to take a test”
“A test?” he asked, voice low, surprise flickering in his eyes.
“A pregnancy test, Yoongi.” You said, trying not to roll your eyes. “I took three damn tests.”
“And what-... what happened?” He asked, his voice unsteady, eyes fixed on yours.
The room felt suddenly smaller, the air thick with unspoken fears and questions. A quiet stillness settled between you both, there was a weight to the silence, stretching out the seconds as you waited for whatever words would come next.
“I mean, guess what happened,” you whispered. Before you could finish the sentence, you got up and reached for the zipper on your suitcase pocket. Your hand closed around the large object, and you felt his eyes on the back of your neck, following you as you moved around the hotel room. Returning to the bed, you sat down and handed him the pregnancy test.
Yoongi didn’t know anything about pregnancy tests—he’d never needed to. He’d always been careful, using protection with every girl he’d been with, including you, until things had started to get serious. So no, he wasn’t familiar with the variety of pregnancy tests out there. But now, here he was, staring at a white stick with a tiny screen, showing a clear positive sign, which could only mean one thing.
Yoongi’s hands trembled slightly as he held the pregnancy test, his gaze locked onto the tiny screen, staring at it for a moment, speechless. His heartbeat thundered in his ears, loud enough that he thought you might hear it. Now everything made sense, how you said you were nauseous in the morning, each time you refused to drink wine, how you looked like you were about to cry when you saw a stroller with twins this afternoon at the park. How could he not notice?
You pressed your lips together, feeling the familiar sting of tears welling up once more. A small, shaky hiccup escaped your lips, breaking the silence and snapping him out of his daze. “No, no, no,” He murmured urgently, setting the test aside and pulling you close, lifting you effortlessly onto his lap. His arms wrapped around your waist as you buried your face in your hands, trying to hold back the tears. “Hey, there’s no reason to cry,” He whispered, gently guiding your face up, his fingers lifting your chin as he coaxed your hands away. “C’mon, look at me.” His voice was soft, reassuring, his gaze full of warmth and understanding.
“I don’t know how it happened.” You blurted out, your voice shaking with uncertainty.
“That doesn’t matter now, why didn’t you tell me?” He asked, you could tell he was trying to remain calm by the soft tone of his voice, but his face had gone as white as paper, like he’d just seen a ghost.
“I arranged the flight to see you as soon as possible, but... I was scared. I didn’t know what to say. I still don’t,” you admitted, your words barely a whisper.
“Baby, you don’t have to be scared, okay? You can tell me anything.” He assured you, his hand gently squeezing yours. But the uneasy feeling in your stomach refused to go away.
“I know, but… we haven’t planned for this,” you murmured, glancing down. “It just… came out of nowhere.”
“Well, it didn’t exactly come out of nowhere. These things can happen,” he said gently, a faint smile tugging at his lips. You groaned, burying your face in his chest.
“But it wasn’t supposed to happen,” you whined, your voice muffled against him. “I didn’t expect this at all. I was drowning in work when I found out. I’m stressed, I’m lost, I don’t know what to do… and I miss my mom.” The words tumbled out in a frantic ramble, and you were so caught up in your thoughts that you didn’t even notice the soft laugh he let slip.
“You miss your mom?” he asked softly, careful not to upset you further.
“Yes!” you cried, voice cracking. “I feel like a kid lost in the supermarket.”
He shook his head gently and brushed away your tears with his thumbs, pulling you closer. “Baby…” he began, his tone soothing.
“Yoongi…” you whispered, lifting your head to meet his gaze. His expression was still worried, but the warmth in his eyes was reassuring.
“You’re right, we didn’t plan this. But we’ve talked about it before, and you have options. Whatever you choose, I’ll be right here beside you, no matter what. You know that, don’t you?” He searched your eyes for confirmation, and you nodded, feeling the ache in your chest begin to ease.
As his words sank in, a new wave of emotions stirred inside you. The weight of worry and loneliness began to ease, replaced by a warmth that softened the ache in your chest.
“But… what do you think?” you asked softly. You knew that whatever you decided would ultimately be your choice only, but you needed to know what was going on in his mind.
He sighed, a hint of hesitation in his expression. “I mean… we’re not sixteen, baby. We’re adults, we’re about to buy a house together, and we love each other.”
“Well, those are just facts,” you replied, searching his face. “What I mean is… do you want this, now?”
It was hard for Yoongi to believe you were really asking this. There you were, sitting on his lap with swollen eyes and a red nose from crying, asking him if he wanted to start a family with you—as if that hadn’t been his dream all along. Of course he felt like the life he had been living was going to completely change from now on. It was terrifying, but he couldn’t help but feel excited at the same time.
“I've always wanted it, are you serious?” He laughed, the sound light but filled with disbelief. “And I only want it with you, haven’t I made it clear enough?”
Those were the main differences between the two of you: while he was calm, always taking a moment to think before acting, you were emotional and, more often than not, let your feelings take control of your actions. It was only in that moment that you realized how irrational you’d been. There wasn’t a world where Yoongi didn’t want this, and there certainly wasn’t a world where you didn’t want it either.
“I want it, too,” you whispered, your voice trembling as you fought back tears.
“Then why are you crying, huh?” he asked gently, squeezing your face in an attempt to lighten the mood.
“Because...” you said, struggling to catch your breath. “Maybe you didn’t think it was the right time... You’re on tour right now.”
He frowned, his expression softening with concern. “I won’t be on tour forever...”
“I know, but... we’re not married. What would your parents think?”
He let out a laugh, clearly unable to believe that was a real concern of yours. “You’re not seriously thinking about my parents right now, are you?”
“How could I not?” you said, raising your eyebrows. “What if they force us to marry? God, I don’t want to be one of those couples who only marry because the girl is suddenly pregnant!”
He laughed even harder, shaking his head. “Oh my god, baby, no one’s forcing us to do anything!” He grinned, clearly finding your worry amusing. “If we ever get married, it won’t be because anyone pressured me. Trust me.” He paused, happy to see that the worried expression abandoned your face. “Besides, my parents love you, you have no idea how happy they’ll be once they know. Married or not.”
“Yoongi, it can’t be that simple.”
“But it is.”
You sighed, feeling like all the mess you’d made was for nothing—and thank God it was. You’d been so caught up in your own despair that you hadn’t realized everything in your life was falling into place for this to happen. Yoongi was right. You were about to move into a bigger home, you had your job, Yoongi had his, and you loved each other. You've always wanted it, this was the perfect moment for this to happen. Why had you been so worried?
“You’re right, it is.” You finally admitted, letting your body rest against him.
Yoongi laughed, gently grabbing you by your hips and laying you on the bed, kissing you softly. “You don’t have to worry, baby, not with me.”
“I know.” You breathed out, feeling like a weight was lifted off your shoulders. “But I am-… I’m so scared. How am I gonna have a baby? It sounds crazy.”
“Of course it does, it is.” He said “I’m terrified, too, but we’re together, right? Nothing bad can happen if we have each other.”
You nodded, feeling your chest unclench. “I guess you're right,” you whispered, your voice thick with emotion. “I just... needed to hear you say it.”
Yoongi smiled, leaning down to steal another kiss from you, this time deeper, longer. “I love you, baby, don’t you know that?”
You brushed your nose against his, nodding. “I love you, too, bubba.”
“C’mon, baby, stop crying.” He said, making you laugh.
Just found your blog and LOVE your bts headcanons so much… after having watched Are You Sure?!, I need all your NSFW headcanons for OT7 as your boyfriend… please please please 🔥
Random NSFW Headcanons
Ot7 x Reader
Summary: Random spicy headcanons about the members
Warnings: 18+ mdni, smut, unprotected sex(don’t do this), breeding kinks, mentions of edging, oral(m. & f. receiving), bondage, sensory deprivation, dom/sub dynamics, somnophilia, voyeurism, idk there’s a bunch of stuff lol
A/N: You want my hcs? I’ll give ‘em, hehehe😈 Hope you like them!
Masterlist
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Jin:
Okay, I’m gonna make some of y’all real happy by saying, although I still think he’s mostly switch/sub leaning, he does have a dom streak in him. Like as much as he loves letting you lead him like a puppy on a leash(sometimes literally), nothing quite gets him off the same as taking control and pounding into you until you’re his empty headed baby, only able to whimper is his name.
He’s also a big fan of sensory deprivation, both giving and receiving. Blindfolds, handcuffs, etc. He loves the heightened sensitivity that they create, turning even the lightest touches insanely intense.
Has a major thing for cumming in you that it’s bordering on a breeding kink. Like tell him that you want him to cum in you, and he’ll propose on the spot💍
Yoongi:
He’s definitely into bondage and shibari(he’s been tied up/handcuffed wayy too many times in music videos to not be, lol) tho it would take a bit of coaxing to get him to admit it. There’s just something about trying out different knots and restraint styles, both on him and you, that intrigues and excites him.
Lowkey into angry sex, but not when he’s angry with you. It’s more those days when he comes home frustrated from the studio and he just wants to scream, so he makes it his mission to make you scream instead, hehe.
Has recorded himself getting off for you and thought about sneaking it into the background sounds of one of his Agust D tracks(might have actually done it, but he won’t admit it bc he’s a menace and likes to fuck with your head, so you’re just sat listening to every little detail on his demos, lol)
Hobi:
This boy is a certifiable freak, you cannot convince me otherwise. Like except for a relatively small list of hard no’s, he’s open to playing around and testing out pretty much any sort of kink/scenario that you might be interested in.
Lowkey very into the idea of watching you fuck one of his friends rapline whats up?, guiding them on just how to touch you, watching the way your face scrunches up in pleasure, just to turn around and fuck you into oblivion afterwards.
Man adores having his head between your thighs and actively begs you to ride his face. And don’t even think of arguing that you’re too heavy or whatever, bc he’ll spend the next hour worshiping your body and showering you with so much praise that you won’t be able to think, let alone remember any of your insecurities🫠
Namjoon:
Although we’ve established he’s definitely more of a daddy dom, he definitely has a weakness for you taking the lead or being on top(“pro rider, hohohoho rider” I had to, I'm sorry). Something about him being under you, watching the way your body moves on top of his, feeling the way you take him so perfectly, just makes his brain go hazy🤤
Idk if he’s fully aware that it’s a kink/thing, but he’s definitely into temperature play. Ice cubes, hot wax, even just blowing cool air over his skin makes him tingly in all the right ways.
He loves to tease you at the worst moments. Like you could be on phone with a friend or whoever, and he’ll let his hands start to ghost along your arms, down your sides, across your chest, between your thighs… seeing just how long it takes before your voice and focus start to waver, quickly hanging up and giving him your full attention
Jimin:
*cough*ropebunny*cough* Sorry, what?
No but fr, he loves being tied up in different pretty styles of shibari, but he treats it like an art form, with different silk ropes and ribbons. He wants to feel pretty and treasured, caressed with soft voices and sweet words, regardless of if you’re teasing and edging him to tears.
Lowkey into semi-public sex, teasing you at dinner with his friends with his hand creeping along your thigh under the table till you’re squirming and begging him to find an excuse for you both to be excused for a minute. Dude will fully have you shaking and seeing stars and then walk out of the bathroom like nothing happened.
Definitely the biggest fan of aftercare out of all the members, like he treats it as more of a sensual spa night for the two of you; candlelit baths together, gentle massages to work out any tense muscles, cuddling in bed that might turn into cockwarming or a very sleepy round two...
Taehyung:
Definitely into taking photos of the two of you, both on his phone and on his retro film cameras. Man turned his guest room into his own studio/darkroom and learned how to develop film by himself so that no one else but you would see his artwork.
Loses his goddamn mind every time you go down on him. Like if you ever wanna make his mind go completely blank, all you have to do is let him feel your warm, wet mouth close around his length, and he’s absolute putty in your hands.
Feel like he’s very into lingerie, both for you and himself. He loves feeling like a pretty present for you to open and play with, and vice versa. You literally came home on your birthday to him waiting for you in some pretty little silk number with a bow on his head as your gift.
Jungkook:
Although I’ve said before he’s a dom leaning switch, when he subs, he lets go completely. He loves letting his mind shut off and being at your mercy, letting you take control and turning him into a needy whining mess.
For the similar reason, he has a major dumbifacation kink, both giving and receiving. He loves the idea of being fucked to the point that your mind goes completely blank and all you can think and focus on is how you make each other feel.
Definitely has a thing for somnophilia, again both giving and receiving. The thought of touching and teasing each other, your bodies reacting purely out of instinct, seeing how long it takes for you to wake up so that you can fuck each other properly, the whole thing makes him crazy. His favorite way to wake up, 5 stars, highly recommend🤭
Summary: Managing Min Yoongi as one of your encoders during his alternative military service should’ve been simple. He is quiet, punctual—and can apparently type as fast as he can rap! Not to mention the fact that he is easy on the eyes and keeps wanting to help you. You’ve signed an iron-clad NDA, detailing the full terms and conditions of his temporary employment, so you’re supposed to keep things professional, but what happens if neither of you wants to?
Genre: Fluff, eventual smut, co-workers to lovers, office romance, idol!au
Warnings: Purely speculative regarding Yoongi’s alternative military service and how this is really done in SK, I might include scootergate in a future chapter but please know it will be written sensibly imo and with so much love for our Yoongi (I just wanna protecc him at all costs even thru this silly story!), some cursing, boss/employee relationship sorta but there's no power play involved, reader and Yoongi are within the same age range
Chapter warnings: so this is probably 60-70% smut or leading up to smut 😅, am I crazy?, maybe?, idk man T&C yoongi just has a bunch of tricks up his sleeve, i’m literally just a girl, tongue technology but it may not be what u expect, oral, protected sex, breast worship, nip stim, fingering, spanking, lil bit of exhibitionism, petting, office sex almost getting caught but they still finish yay, trampy Danbi and her weak-ass lines, overuse of jagi and baby because that's how I roll, if i missed anything lmk. MINORS DNI!
Word count: 7.3k (approx. 35 mins to read)
Posting date: November 2, 2024
Notes: Idk what else to say. Hope you think the wait is worth it. ☺️ Enjoy~
Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three | Chapter Four | Masterlist
You didn’t quite expect the night to end like this, but maybe part of you did. Spending intimate one-on-one time with Yoongi was a risk—one you knew would soften your heart even more. Despite every logical reason to pull back, to brace yourself for the shitstorm this would inevitably bring, you already made the choice. You were going to give this a try.
Yoongi offers you his hand, and you take it without hesitation. His grip is firm but gentle as he leads you from the cozy warmth of the living room to a quieter part of his apartment.
You don’t know what to expect when you see his bedroom. But when he opens it to usher you in, you’re hit with a strange sense of familiarity and intimacy. Like the space is so him. Minimalist but warm, with soft neutral tones that you find soothing. The bed, a king-sized obviously for the king of naps, a spread of taupe gray sheets and a matching duvet dominates the center. The dim lighting casts a golden glow over the earthy walls, but what caught your attention was the view from his huge floor to ceiling windows.
Somehow during the time it took from the living room to his bedroom, the Hangang Rainbow Bridge decided to impress you a bit more. Technicolor lights mingle with swirls of water that shoot from jets along the bridge’s edge, setting the night alight.
It’s… wow. You can’t explain the onslaught of emotions you’re feeling at the moment. You just know that there’s no place else you’d rather be.
Yoongi stands behind you, his hand still resting lightly on yours, like he’s giving you space to take it all in. But the silence doesn’t last long. You turn to face him, your hands find his chest, fingers looping the strings of his hoodie as you pull him closer.
He doesn’t resist but there’s a lazy smirk playing on his lips as he leans into you, his breath warm against your skin. His lips find yours again and all the worries and doubts you carried with you slip away. You’re in it now, fully, and there’s no going back.
Hands slide up your back, under your top and something inside you snaps. You’re impatient now, hands slipping under his sweater, tugging it upward. Your fingers graze the warm skin underneath, and he lets out a soft chuckle, amused by your urgency.
"Easy, jagi," Yoongi whispers against your lips, pulling back just enough to look at you, eyes glinting with amusement. "We’ve got all night."
The audacity of this man. Looks like a fuckin snacc, seduces you with his cooking and a slow dance, decides to call you jagi—then tells you to put on the brakes?
You roll your eyes, but your fingers don’t stop. "You’re moving too slow," you complain, pulling the fabric up higher, desperate to get it off him. He laughs again, but this time, it’s softer, more affectionate. He’s clearly endeared by your impatience.
With a low chuckle, he helps you lift the hoodie off, tossing it carelessly to the floor, leaving him in a simple black tee that fits nicely across his strong shoulders. But he’s not done yet. He steps closer, hands finding the zipper of your hoodie, eyes darkening with intent. He takes his time, his fingers gliding over the metal. You can feel your breath hitch as he slowly pulls the zipper down, teasing you, dragging this out just to make you squirm.
"Let’s not rush this," he chides, as the zipper falls open, exposing your skin to the cool air. "I wanna take my time with you."
“Okay,” you mutter, lids fluttering shut as his hands push the garment from your shoulders, falling in a heap where his own lies.
One strap from your top sags with the motion, his plush lips quickly taking its place. He trails soft, velvety kisses towards your collarbone, then licks the tops of your breast, blows on it, cool air tickling the trail of wetness. A sigh escapes your mouth at the mix of sensations.
“May I?” He asks, finger hooked on the other strap of your top.
“Yes,” you respond, engrossed at the way his eyes are drinking the slow reveal of your breasts as the fabric pools at your waist.
“So perfect,” he muses, moving to sit on the edge of his bed, pulling you to stand in between his legs.
The angle is perfect for his mouth to connect with your chest effortlessly and you’re rewarded by the mesmerizing view of his pouty lips as they push and pull against your puffy nipples.
A name you’ve never used for any lover ever seems to spill seamlessly from your lips, only for the man responsible for your current state of disarray. “Baby… you’re so good at that.”
Yoongi nips your tits playfully, approvingly, and you can’t help but moan at the sudden jolt of pleasure.
“Fuck—your tits,” he purrs, face pressed against your sternum while his hands push your mounds inwards to squish his cheeks. “They’re so soft, jagi. Mmm.”
Yoongi stays there for a while feeling the plush flesh against his face, and when you scratch his scalp with your long fingernails, he lets out a needy little whimper that almost sounds like a cat’s purr.
He moves to lavish your other breast, tongue darting out to coax it to peak. His eyes are transfixed on you and you can’t bring yourself to look away. He starts with kitten licks, before rolling it around your areola, and when it starts to pebble, his tongue moves faster and faster to flick at the tip and holy shit how is he so good at that?!
Lost in the feeling, you suddenly feel a tap on the side of your lips. It’s his fingers, the pointer and the middle, seeking entry. “Suck them for me,” he instructs and you do not have to be told twice.
You suck and lick around the digits and before you can even get into it he retrieves it and coats your free nipple with your own spit. The slick pinches of his fingers feel wonderful against your bud and with his mouth alternating sucks and rapid licks on the other, you start to feel a familiar yet wholly unfamiliar feeling igniting in your belly.
Yoongi’s so good and so, so fuckin’ sexy… And god his tongue. He really knows what he’s doing. You’ve never been with anyone who has made you crumble like this.
Soon enough you are panting and moaning haplessly. Your hands find purchase on the back of his neck, body tingling with a newfound sensation. When his teeth and blunt nails clamp down your nipples in unison, the stimulation becomes—fuck—too much to bear and
Wait—did you just???
Heat bursts inside your chest and your body surges forward as a sweet, subtle high, erupts within you in unexpected waves. The orgasm catches you off guard like a thief in the night. It feels like a gentle rumble, more like a preamble, and you’re already needy to feel the next.
Yoongi steadies you as your knees give way, easing you into the cushions until you’re lying beside him.
“Yoongi…” you’re suddenly as shy as a mouse.
“Mm?” he asks, amusement apparent, ‘cause of course he knows. He knows you came just from nipple play.
“I uh I’ve… never—” you stammer, crossing your arms across your chest, a little embarrassed from what they’ve just made you do. “…that’s never happened before.”
“Did it feel good?” Yoongi asks, cupping the side of your jaw to make you look at him.
“So good,” you sigh. You can’t even fault him if his ego inflates after this.
“Then stop pouting and give me back those lips,” he pulls you towards him with a smirk. You crash your lips on his, swinging one leg across his waist as you hoist yourself atop him without breaking your contact.
Your weight settles against his center and you can feel the semi under his jeans rumbling to life as you do some experimental rolls of your hips. His hands fly to your ass, squeezing them as you grind against his stiffness.
“Take this off,” you instruct, although your hands are already hoisting his tee up and off his body.
Once gone, you rake your greedy nails across his toned chest earning a tut from him as red marks immediately bloomed on the milky surface. You drag your tongue across the indents, capturing a nipple along the way, before ending on his neck and sucking softly. You enjoy the low rumbles in his throat for a bit before you push yourself out of bed, coming to stand by the edge where his legs dangle over.
Yoongi props himself up on his elbows, abs flexing to your quiet delight as he waits for your next move.
“Gonna give me a show?” he waggles his eyebrows suggestively.
You smile cheekily, pushing your blouse down and it falls on the ground by your ankles. Belt loops are pulled and released and the button of your jeans goes next.
Yoongi’s eyes devour you as you shimmy the jeans down leaving you in a thin scrap of lace that barely covers your pussy.
Alright, so you did prepare in the eventuality that this would happen.
Newly bought and newly washed, it was something you had picked up in a boutique yesterday with Chae. White (or coconut white, as the sales associate said), it has delicate scallop trims around the leg openings and a thin waistband that criss-crosses at the back connecting to the thong. It was out of your usual price range, but you let your credit card take the hit, thinking his reaction will be priceless.
You’re right.
A pink tongue swoops outside of his gaping mouth. He shakes his head at you as if you did him dirty, but you both know that’s a look of appreciation.
He shifts to sit fully, sweaty palms immediately sliding up your legs to cradle the meat of your ass as he continues to ogle at the sight in front of him.
“This is pretty.”
“I picked it for you,” you admit bashfully.
“I know you did, jagi,” he smirks. Sniffs. And there’s something wildly erotic in the way his nose nudges the lace where you know a patch of wetness has already formed.
He pokes the fabric in the middle, exactly where your clit is hiding and that brief contact sends sparks to your limbs. Fingers pinch the lace together, gathering it towards the slit of your pussy, then he does something that makes you gasp. He tugs the fabric up and down, the rough texture of the lace rocking against your puffed up clit, arousing you in a way you haven’t felt before.
“Shit,” you steady yourself against his shoulder, as you feel his mouth take one side of your pussy lips to suck. The friction feels phenomenal. More wetness gushes out of you and you decide to put a stop to things before it escalates again.
“Wanna see the back?” Needing reprieve, you turn around before he can answer.
You hear his sharp inhale. “Shit, your body is insane.”
Something akin to pride blossoms in your chest. You admit wondering how you might compare to other people who he’s been with. Probably gorgeous people sculpted by the gods just like him. But the way he looks at you—devastating, almost devoted—you’d be a fool to think he doesn’t view you as a descendant of Aphrodite, herself.
But then he bites the waistband and lets it ping against your skin, bringing you back to the present.
“Yoongi!” You gasp, pushing him towards the cushions and the bastard just giggles as he falls.
But the playful moment leaves after a beat, and soon enough, his pants disappear from his body, leaving him in black boxers, which you quickly get rid of as well.
Oh.
Okay.
You gulp.
He got that big dick energy and now you have the proof.
Your knees sink on the mattress, between his open thighs, the perfect spot for you to worship his cock. Heavy against his stomach, veins run up towards the head—red and swollen and angry. A bead of cum pools at the tiny slit at the very tip. Cute.
“Is this for me?”
“All for you.”
You hum, delighted. “All mine,” you say and you feel him throb against your hand as you reward him with a few pumps. After a while, you let your mouth take over, first cleaning up the salty precum on the tip with swipes of your tongue, noisily licking it for his audible enjoyment.
The sheets move beneath you as Yoongi grips them, face already a picture of impatience. “Don’t tease,” he says.
You suck him with gusto, letting your spit dribble down his hard length. You fist the base of his cock, timing your strokes with each bob of your head. The breathless moans coming from his lips only spurs you to keep at this smooth cadence.
A hand threads through the side of your hair before it is gathered in a loose grip. He doesn’t guide your movements, but anchors himself on you as if he’s at the edge of his life—he sure does sound like it. Groans and grunts huff out of his throat, sound bytes you need to mentally record for use when you're alone.
“Ahh, hol’ up…” he gently tugs your hair, cock falling from your lips and slapping against his tummy.
You look up at him, wiping your bottom lip with the back of your hand.
“I need to be inside you.”
“How do you want me, baby?”
“I need that perfect ass up in the air,” he replies, lips curling up, “Don’t remove your panties.”
You both shift around the bed, and you end up face down by his pillows. You can smell the comforting scent of his fabric conditioner and maybe his shampoo, rooting you in the present.
His hands grip your waist, tracing the contours of your body, sweat lubricating the path towards
“This ass…” he says, more to himself than you. You feel him lick one of your cheeks before he bites down, making you squeal.
“I’m sorry,” he says.
“For what?”
He rips your lace panties in half, the poor fabric sent sailing to the other side of the room. You somehow knew it was coming when he asked that it stays on.
“Kinda cliche,” you tease and he chuckles. “You left me with no choice.”
“Well, you could’ve not ripped it actually. Those are new,” you scold him with no real bite.
His chest connects with your back, and you feel a smooch or two being deposited to your shoulder blades. “I’ll replace it.”
He hitches your hips back so you can feel the ridge of his cock between your ass, hand reaching forward towards your mound. “Let me prep you real quick…”
“NO.”
“No?”
Your patience has worn thin. “I can’t wait anymore, just fuck me.”
You hear the crinkle of foil, the adjustment of rubber, then you feel it. The tip of his dick teases your folds, coating it with the juices seeping from your cunt. Gentle in the way he plants one of his hands on your waist, Yoongi reminds you, “Tell me to stop if it hurts.”
His cock finally breaches your entrance, your swollen walls accommodating his girth slowly but spectacularly. You love the burn inside. A loud moan launches itself from your throat as he bottoms out, the feeling full, stuffed, complete.
“Mmh, Yoongi, you’re so big…” you couldn’t help but clench at the delicious stretch.
“Please move,” you beg, throwing your ass back once, and you hear Yoongi grunt, hands gripping your waist tighter.
He starts rocking his hips, pushing his length earnestly into you that you’re sure you will feel him if you press on your lower stomach. Your cunt is on fire, but your clit is aching for some relief.
Mind read, Yoongi tells you to touch yourself so you do, plunging your middle finger on your nub. The pleasure increases tenfold.
Yoongi groans as he continues to fuck himself into you. He doesn’t say anything else but his labored breaths are signifying his forthcoming demise.
He slips out of you and you almost scream at the loss.
Quickly you’re flipped to your back and you are hit with the sight of Yoongi’s crumbling composure, a lone drop of sweat trailing from his jaw to his chin.
He lines himself up on you again and this time the glide is smooth, your slippery cunt offering little to no resistance as he ruts against you, fast and fuckin’ furious.
“You’re fucking me so well, baby,” you praise in stuttered phrasing, and his forehead drops to rest on yours, the rhythm of this thrusts unchanging.
You frame his face with your hands and pull him towards you. You kiss him. Lick the back of his teeth. Tug at his bottom lip. And the neediest whine slips from his mouth onto yours.
“Are you close, jagi? Cause I fuckin am…” his voice is almost drowned by the sounds of skin slapping on skin, and the feral noises you’re involuntarily making.
“Y-yes…” you say as you play with one of your nipples, shuddering slightly from over sensitivity.
His pace increases even more with a sudden, breathless urgency. Every nerve in your body is buzzing to life, every part of you aware of how your bodies are connected. Maybe it’s the intensity in his eyes, or the way his tongue moistens his lips, but it’s enough to push you careening off the cliff, as your walls clamp down on his cock, body vibrating in a surge of electricity.
The way he pushes himself on to you is desperate. He looks so fucked out but he doesn’t stop fucking you. Not until the movement of his hips becomes erratic and he pulses inside of you with one prolonged moan, and the condom inside of you fills up with the proof of his pleasure.
You wish you started taking those damn birth control pills earlier.
“You good?” you ask, raking your nails against the clammy skin of his back. His head rests on the crook of your neck.
He lifts his head to level with yours, a lopsided grin on his lips. “Better. Bestest.” He looks positively drunk.
You shove a hand across his face, “you’re stupid.”
He shakes his head, rolling out of bed to dispose of the condom and to get a warm washcloth for you. He helps you clean up and you steal his tee from the floor, pulling it over your head before he can even protest.
“I can get you a fresh one,” he offers.
“I want this, smells like you,” you say.
His nose crinkles like he couldn’t stand your cheesiness, but of course he pulls you towards his body and under the duvet.
You share a brief kiss, but you’re too spent to do anything else, and soon enough, sleep claims you both.
The morning light filters softly through Yoongi’s curtains and you can see the dustmites floating in the air like glitter. You blink yourself awake, the memories of last night still wrapping around you like a comforting blanket. The actual blankets are tangled around your waist, and the faint sound of movement in the kitchen catches your attention.
You stretch, feeling the pull of muscles you didn’t realize would be sore. Everything about this moment feels surreal—like you’re hovering between reality and some alternate version of it.
Yoongi pads into the room, dressed in a loose white t-shirt and dark gray sweatpants. He looks cozy. When he sees you, his lips curve into a soft smile.
“Good morning, jagi.” His voice is a smooth melody, the last word warming you instantly. You really can get used to him calling you that.
You bite your lip, smiling back. “Morning.”
He crosses the room in a few steps and hands you a warm mug.
His cheeks are adorably puffy, and his eyes still look a bit more squinty than usual. All you want to do is reach out and squish that face.
“Didn’t think you’d be up this early,” you say, before taking a quick sip from your cup. “Thought you weren’t a morning person.”
“Had to make sure you didn’t disappear on me.” He sits on the edge of the bed, but his eyes stay locked on yours, watching you closely.
You pout. “Why would I leave?”
Yoongi shrugs, setting his mug down on the nightstand before turning back to you. “Just wanted to make sure you don’t regret last night.” The vulnerability hidden in his tone catches you off guard, his casual words heavy with meaning.
Your heart skips, but you cover it with a grin. “Regret? Not a chance. I mean, the bed was comfortable, and you didn’t snore, so…” You throw in a teasing smile, watching for his reaction.
Yoongi raises an eyebrow, clearly not buying it. There’s something behind his eyes, something uncertain. He’s usually so composed, always knowing where he stands. But right now, he seems like he’s choosing his next words carefully.
Before you can dwell on it, he leans forward, bracing his hands on either side of you. You are caught off-guard by the sudden proximity and you’re not ready for the tsunami of emotions roaring in your chest. He says your name, before carefully stating the next few words.
“I’m all in. You know that, right?”
The vulnerability in his voice is palpable, like he’s still waiting for you to pull away, to tell him this was a mistake. That this was a bad idea, like you said last night. The importance of his words hits you, your heartbeat quickening under his gaze.
All in. Wow. He really said that.
The way Yoongi’s looking at you right now, like he’s handing you his heart—fuck, it’s overwhelming. It’s exactly what you want, and you can’t explain the emotions that fill you up.
But you’re not about to let him off easy. You tilt your head, sipping your coffee slowly as you let the silence stretch just a little longer than necessary. “All in, huh? That’s a big commitment. You sure you can handle me?”
He lets out a soft chuckle, his breath warm against your cheek. “I think I can handle you. The real question is… can you handle me?”
You set the mug down, leaning back into the pillows, a small grin on your lips, but your next words are as honest as can be. “Yoongi, you’re a lot to handle. You’ve got way too many strings attached. Might be more than I can take on.”
You may have said it as a joke, but you know what they say about jokes being half-meant. He knows it, too. His hand finds yours, fingers lacing together effortlessly, like it’s the most natural thing in the world.
“We can take it slow,” he murmurs, “I’m gonna take care of you, you’ll see,” voice gentler now. “And if you’re in, I’m in—completely.”
You can see the sincerity in the way he looks at you, the way he’s offering more than just casual affection.
If you would be totally honest, you still had some doubts. There were too many variables that you both still need to discuss. But for now, there is only one appropriate response and you are willing to give it to him.
“Okay,” you finally whisper. “I’m in, too.”
The gummy smile that breaks across his face is blinding, and there’s something like relief in it that makes your heart flip. He leans down, pressing a soft kiss to your knuckles, and you can’t help but grin.
But the sweet gesture turns into something else as his hands slip under the hem of the shirt you’re wearing—his shirt—his touch slow, deliberate. His fingertips graze the bare skin of your waist, sending a ripple of heat through you.
You lean into him, coffee forgotten, tugging him down into a kiss that’s lazy like Sunday morning. He tastes like his Americano, and the way his lips move against yours makes your head spin.
Yoongi’s lips trail down your neck, pressing soft pecks to your skin. His hands slide up your back, pulling you closer.
You move back just slightly, a teasing smirk on your lips. “Aren’t we having breakfast first?”
His eyes darken with a lazy grin, the hand from your back now moving to grasp one of your tits. “That's exactly what I’m having right now.”
You’re utterly screwed.
Yoongi wastes no time diving in your cunt, especially since your underwear is MIA. Tongue flat, he licks your slit once, does it again, and earns a desperate whine from you. It doesn’t take long for him to start making out with your clit, gamely exploring this part of your body in a way he wasn’t able to do last night. He spreads you apart, tongue moving faster and faster like it’s his only setting.
“Just like that…” you say, already feeling embarrassingly close.
He pushes two fingers inside you, gets you plugged nice and tight for him. “You there, jagi?” He lifts his head slightly, to see your reaction.
You curse, gripping the short hair on his neck only to push him back towards his unfinished business.
You feel the smirk against your folds before he resumes his messy work against your pussy, wet muscle dancing in delicious figure eights.
“I–shit, I’m cumming…”
Your legs shake, your moans get louder, and your ears are filled with static as you come, hard, his fingers almost darting out of your hole from the strength of your release.
Yoongi hums and the vibration from his lips coaxes you down from your high.
“That was…” your words trail off as you stare at the white ceiling, lungs needing to be filled with oxygen.
Yoongi dutifully cleans his own mess between your thighs. With his tongue.
When he’s done, your world tilts back to normal (ish) and before you can offer to reciprocate, Yoongi is already slinking out the room, calling after you, “Come, jagi, I cooked haemul pajeon and, don’t bring your coffee, I’ll make you a fresh one.”
If this is how he vows to take care of you, damn, you’re one lucky bitch.
You’re back to work the next day. He insisted on picking you up from your apartment, though you tell him it was not necessary as it may raise some suspicion. You both keep things professional once clocked in but you cannot deny there’s a magnetic pull that is making it difficult to keep your paws away from each other. Once in a while Yoongi catches your eye and you’re brought back to your weekend of debauchery. When he nudges his head towards the door in the back of your office, you already know what he’s asking.
You don't say no. You say, 'later.'
The office has that late afternoon hush, when most people are too buried in their work to notice anything else. It’s just you and Yoongi, tucked away in the back office closet, a space that smells like old paper and dust. You’ve been here before of course—sorting files, you know, actual work—but today, when you enter, you only have one task: you and Yoongi are set to defile the file closet.
Yoongi stands so close you can feel his breath on your neck, his hands resting just above your hips, pressing you lightly against the Ikea file cabinet you both put together weeks ago.
“Alone at fuckin’ last,” he murmurs.
“C’mere baby,” you whisper, arms slipping around his neck. His gaze darkens, and for a moment, everything else fades.
He leans in, kissing you slow—so slow you think you might combust. You push your tongue against the seam of his lips, a little insistent, because you really can’t take your sweet time in this ancient closet.
Yoongi’s fingers start working the buttons of your blouse, one by one. The way his eyes trace your skin makes every hair on your body stand to attention.
But just as his hand slips inside, the door rattles.
You both freeze. Heart in your fuckin’ throat.
“Yoongi, you in here?” Hyun-woo’s voice pierces through the thick air. The panic kicks in fast, adrenaline flooding your veins.
Yoongi pulls back, completely nonplussed, adjusting his glasses on the bridge of his nose. How the fuck is he always so calm? He reaches out, smoothing your hair as if he’s done this a hundred times before. The tenderness in the gesture only makes your heart pound harder.
“Yeah, I’m here,” he calls out, voice steady, like he isn’t seconds away from getting caught with his hand halfway inside your blouse. “Just organizing files.”
Hyun-woo opens the door, peering in, eyes narrowing slightly.
You flash a too-bright smile. “Hi, Hyun-woo! Just teaching Yoongi with the filing. Total disaster in here.”
Hyun-woo doesn’t buy it, not completely, but the suspicion in his eyes fades as quickly as it appeared. “Right. Well, don’t take too long. That room always triggers my claustrophobia.” He pulls the neck of his shirt forward.
Yoongi replies, giving him that practiced, unbothered nod. “Just finishing up.”
As the main door to your office clicks shut, you let out a breath you’ve been holding for far too long.
“That was way too close,” you whisper, your pulse still racing.
Yoongi grins, closing the door again with a nudge of his foot. “Too close,” he agrees, voice low and teasing, as he leans in to steal a quick kiss. “But I’m not done yet.”
“Wha—” The question barely leaves your mouth before Yoongi’s hands are on your shoulders, turning you smoothly so that you’re facing the file cabinet.
“Remember when we were building this very cabinet?” His voice has dropped even lower now, sending a shiver down your spine.
You blink, thrown by the sudden shift. “Yeah?” Your hands are guided to grip the top corners of the cabinet, and your breath catches. What is he doing?
Yoongi doesn’t give you time to process. His voice slides closer, warm against the back of your neck. “What were you doing then?”
You frown slightly, the question catching you off guard. “Nothing…” you say, but it comes out uncertain, more like a question than an answer.
Without warning, his palm connects with your ass—firm, but playful. You gasp, more out of surprise than pain, and turn your head to find him wearing that lopsided grin that drives you crazy. “Ddaeng,” he chimes, the word rolling off his tongue with a playful edge. “Try again.”
“I was—I was helping you,” you say, though your voice is wavering.
“Ddaeng,” he says again, the second slap sharper this time. “You did jack shit. C’mon, jagi, use your pretty little brain…”
“Fuck,” you mutter, feeling your face flush. “I was… I was looking at your hands.”
Yoongi nods approvingly, his grin deepening. “And why were you doing that, hmm?”
You hesitate, your heart thumping harder, not from nerves, but from the way he’s pushing you. You know the answer.
“Because…” You swallow the admission heavy on your tongue, deciding to go the other way instead. “You were taking too long to build it.”
SLAP! “Ddaeng,” the third is much more deliciously painful now, your bum soothed by his large palms. “Huh, I think my jagi enjoys being spanked.” He licks the shell of your ear, making your knees buckle, and his voice comes through in a suspiciously calm tone, “Lie to me again and I’m going to step out this door and leave you here dripping. I bet you’re already wet.”
“Drier than the air in Daegu.” You jest, even as your lips tremble.
You squirm as he pins you against the cabinet, his hand making quick work of the top button of your linen pants. Things are happening so fast. His hand disappears inside, hooks your panties to the side and dips one finger shallowly at your entrance. God you wanna scream.
You squirm some more, but he’s got you pressed up, not enough to hurt you, but enough to limit your movements.
“Liar,” he chuckles darkly. In one quick motion his hand flies out of your pants and goes into his mouth, tasting you. You can literally smell the heady scent of your arousal filling the tiny space, making you needy for some relief.
“Yoongi,” you whine, trying to throw your ass back against his crotch. “Baby, please…”
“Why were you looking at my hands…” he jerks back, not giving you any relief, and asks again. “What do you want me to do with them?”
“I want you to put them inside me.”
“Hmm, what else…” he starts to unbutton your blouse again, not all the way, but so he can yank one of the cups of your bra to tease a nipple.
A flick from his moist finger and you’re already writhing in desperation.
“I want them stuffed in my mouth, and—shit—my pussy. I want them… choking me.”
“Naughty girl,” he tsks, pinching your nipple between his deft fingers, eliciting a moan from you. You feel his warm breath against your ear, teasing you. “Shhh…. I thought we were gonna keep things professional.”
Christ. He knows how sensitive your nipples are and he’s getting you so worked up again you might go criminally insane. You somehow manage to reply.
“I need you…” you whimper. “To fuck me with your fingers.” another whine. “Like a goddamn professional.”
“So bossy,” he chuckles, as his other hand dips under the waistband of your panties, past your fine hairs, and into your waiting folds. His middle finger immediately finds your clit and starts rubbing it in circles. “How’s this?”
You nod, and you gulp, and you stutter, “Good, s-so good.”
Because fuck, everything just feels so damn good. Bones softening, you are merely putty in his hands. Those sinful hands that are coated with your juices, moving in sync to bring you to your demise.
He envelops your ear with his mouth, hot breath further fanning the flames in your core. The way you can hear the sounds of his licks and soft grunts in fuckin’ Dolby atmos–oh my god.
Without any warning, he plunges two fingers in your entrance, your walls immediately sucking them in.
“You’re soaked, jagi,” he husks, large hands pushing your breasts together under your bra, to give you another sensation to enjoy.
His knee nudges yours to close the gap between your feet, and, when you do, everything in your pussy feels even more wonderfully snug. His thumb provides the perfect pressure against your clit, while his fingers move in and out of your cunt with noisy squelches that are bouncing off the walls of the tiny room.
“Am I completing the task to your liking?” he asks teasingly, even though he can feel every proof of his job well done with the way your body is vibrating against him.
“Shit, y-yeah,” you breathe out, turning your head to the side, so you can try to capture his lips. He lets you have it, twirling his tongue against yours.
Mouths still connected, he thrusts against your ass, and his fingers go in much, much deeper. Yoongi swallows your moans as you grip the edge of the cabinet, holding on to your life.
“M close,” you plead. “Don’t stop.”
He sets a staggering pace with his fingers inside your clenching walls, thumb repeatedly bumping your bundle of nerves.
His other hand creeps up your neck towards your chin and your mouth immediately chases it, taking his thumb inside your mouth like a goddamn fiend as the rest of his fingers cradle your jaw.
Salt on your tongue, sweat on your back, slick against your core, a cacophony of pleasure keeps building in record speed until you can’t take it anymore.
“Take it, jagi.” Yoongi says. “Take it like a good fuckin’ girl.”
Finally, the threads keeping your sanity intact finally snaps and a rush of euphoria overcomes you. Yoongi attaches his mouth on the sensitive part under your ear, sucking softly while you come undone against him. An arm circles your waist as he lets you ride the wave, murmuring praise against your skin.
“Remind me to keep wet wipes here,” Yoongi says jokingly as he helps you button up your blouse.
“I hate you.”
“No, you don’t.”
So much for keeping things professional.
Wait—it’s not like you’ve started fucking on the reg at work. Sure there was that time in the file closet (Monday), but that was it. You still pride yourself as a dutiful professional and want to ensure your blossoming relationship is not going to get in the way of your productivity.
But since that closet tryst, you haven’t really done much inside or outside the office. He hasn’t invited you again to his apartment and you haven’t asked him to come to yours. Granted it’s only been a few days, and you did say you were going to take it slow, but tbh, you were already feeling kinda needy.
The problem is, it’s early enough in your sex life that you still know your tally and it’s 4:1. That’s the ratio of orgasms–yours to his. You are lucky he is such a generous lover, but you need to tip the scale in his favor, and fast.
It’s thirsty Thursday. For you, at least. The moment he invites you to the breakroom for your usual shit afternoon coffee, your horny brain immediately concocts a little plan of action.
See that area behind the counter, that’s a CCTV blind spot. It’s quiet, it’s not secluded but the counter is high enough and if you open the bottom cabinet door, you get some extra shield.
“You know you’re asking for trouble, right?” he shakes his head at you, before running his hand through his hair.
You are already palming him against his trousers, biting your lip as you feel his erection grow with each pass.
“Trouble’s my specialty, remember?,” you reply, your tone light, playful.
“Mmh, jagi, fuck–” he slaps his palm on the countertop, bowing his head to watch your hand hasten its strokes. But just as you’re about to kneel, the door swings open. Fuck. You both pull back like teenagers caught sneaking out, your heart dropping into your stomach as Danbi walks in. Her eyes widen at the sight of the two of you—close, too close.
“Oh. I didn’t realize anyone was in here,” she says what is so obviously an outright lie. You can feel her gaze flick between you and Yoongi, curiosity practically radiating off her.
You walk towards the fridge on the other side of the room, forcing a neutral smile. “Just grabbing some snacks,” you say, even though your stomach’s in knots.
Danbi raises an eyebrow, but then her attention shifts fully to Yoongi. “I don’t think we’ve met,” she says, all sweet smiles as she extends a hand. “I’m Choi Danbi from Accounting.”
Yoongi takes her hand, but his expression doesn’t shift—polite, but distant. “Min Yoongi,” he says, his tone cool, relaxed, as if he is not sporting a semi from behind the counter.
And then, Danbi does the thing that makes you cringe to your core.
“So, Yoongi, do you believe in love at first sight, or should I walk by again?”
You fight the urge to roll your eyes so hard they’d never come back. Yoongi, though, doesn’t flinch. He releases her hand and his guarded expression unchanged.
“Not really,” he says flatly. “I’m more of a ‘get to know someone’ kind of guy.”
Danbi’s eyes brighten, completely missing the hint because she is a daft cow. “Well, then—why don’t we? You know, get to know each other. Could be fun.”
Oh, for fuck’s sake!
You grit your teeth, trying not to let your irritation show as you slam the fridge door, glass bottles inside saluting each other. But Yoongi doesn’t miss a beat, his expression still calm, still unreadable.
“I appreciate the offer,” he says smoothly, keeping his tone light, “but I’m not interested in doing that. Sorry.” His eyes flick to you for just a second—quick, but deliberate.
Danbi’s smile falters. Her eyes follow Yoongi’s glance to you, and something odd flickers across her face. She forces out a laugh, backing up toward the door. “Right. Well, can’t blame a girl for trying.”
Yoongi nods politely, but his attention is already drifting back to you.
The moment the door clicks shut behind her, you let out a frustrated sigh. “What the hell was that?”
Yoongi shrugs, clearly unfazed. “People shoot their shot. No big deal.”
“No big deal?” You raise your eyebrows, crossing your arms as you glare at him. “That was straight-up workplace harassment.”
He chuckles, amused by your frustration. “Are you jealous?”
“Jealous? No. Annoyed? Hell yes.”
He smirks, pulling you by the wrist back to your shared office. People walking down the hallway may see you, but at the moment you are a raging bull. You’re still fuming, muttering about Danbi’s persistence and her complete lack of subtlety, but Yoongi stays quiet, listening as you rant. By the time you step into the office, your nerves are on edge, and you can feel the heat of your frustration bubbling over.
But the second you’re both inside, Yoongi pulls you into his arms. No warning, no hesitation. His grip is firm, grounding, and despite yourself, your body softens against him.
“Jagiya,” he murmurs sweetly against your hair. “Relax.”
You try to stay annoyed, but Yoongi’s tone, his steady heartbeat under your cheek, makes it difficult. He leans back slightly, his hands slipping to your waist as he looks down at you, a soft smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “You know I’m all yours, right?”
You look up at him, biting back the last of your frustration. “I know. It’s just… she was so pushy.”
He nods, his thumbs brushing your sides in a calming rhythm. “She was. But it didn’t change anything.” His voice drops lower, more serious now. “It’s still you.”
You look into his eyes, seeing the sincerity there, the quiet confidence in his voice. You’ve known this for a while now, but hearing him say it—feeling him say it—it hits different.
Something shifts inside you. That underlying fear you’ve been holding onto, the doubt that maybe you’re just a phase for him, gone.
You’re all in.
Before you can say anything, Yoongi presses his lips to your forehead, his arms tightening around you, his touch both protective and possessive in the best way. “You good?”
You nod against his chest, smiling to yourself. “Yeah. I’m good.” And for the first time, you really believe it.
As you pull back to meet his gaze, a smirk tugs at your lips. “You know, you could’ve shut her down sooner.”
Yoongi grins, thumb tracing the edge of your jaw. “Thought you might like to watch me handle it.”
You laugh, swatting his arm. “Next time, I’ll just handle it myself.”
He chuckles, shoulders bobbing as he pulls you back into his arms. “Can’t wait to see that.”
You lean into his embrace, letting the last of your frustration fade. In this moment, it’s just you and him. Everything else? Background noise.
Because you’re in it. All the way.
Notes: Phew! So… how are we? Gosh, this was honestly a beast to write for me. Did you like the chapter? Hate it? I’d love your feedback. Let's have fun in the comments!!! :)
Summary: You thought planning your wedding was going to be a magical memory. You didn't realize that it might make you second guess everything.
Pairing: Fiancée Yoongi x Insecure F. Reader
Genre: Romance, Angst, Smut, Hurt-Comfort
Warnings: Explicit Sex, Toxic Family Dynamics, Arguments, Talk Of Sex Toys, Self Doubt, Over Thinking, Yoongi Overworking Himself, Possible Food/Body/ Eating triggers.
A/N: I rewrote this damn chapter about 50 times. See the author's note at the bottom to see how it was originally going to end!
A/N 2: I accidentally deleted chapter 8 and couldn't recover it. I swear I almost deleted my whole account because I was so mad. I wrote it again, and it's actually much better than the first one.
You look in the mirror as you try on your fifth outfit that consists of jeans and a nice sweater. You felt ridiculous that you were this concerned about what you were going to wear. You were just meeting your sister, not going on a date or anything. It shouldn't feel like a big deal as you're making it out to be, but it was. You had a feeling this meeting was either going to get the two of you on track or say goodbye forever. Honestly, you don't think you're ready for either of those options.
“What happened here?” Yoongi said as he came into the bedroom and saw the mess you created.
Your clothes were thrown all over the room after you tried them on and discarded them in frustration. Random shoes lie by each other, nowhere near their matching mate. You didn't care, though. You only cared about trying to look your best without making it look like you were trying.
“I can't decide what to wear,” you tell him and throw your hands up in frustration. “Do I dress up? Do I just wear jeans? She's going to be dressed perfectly, I know it.”
“It's not a business meeting,” he comments, coming up behind you and wrapping his arms around your middle. “You don't even have to go.”
“I want to hear what she has to say to me,” you say. “I just, I need to do this.”
“I'll come with you,” he mumbles into your neck.
“No,” you whisper.
“I'll sit in the car and wait,” he offers and makes eye contact with you in the mirror.
You turn and wrap your arms behind his neck, hugging him. His own arms tighten around your waist, not wanting to let go as he buries his face further into your neck. His lips press against the smooth column of your neck. You were so thankful that you had him, but you had to stop relying on him so much.
“I don't want you getting hurt,” he says quietly. “We both know how she is. With how you have been avoiding your mom, I can guess what your conversation is going to be about.”
“Yoongi, I promise you that if it gets to that point. I will walk out and be done with her. I promise. I have to do this on my own. It's important to me that I do this on my own,” you tell him.
“Come to the studio when you're done,” he tells you, finally giving up on convincing you to stay home. Moving his face close to yours, he rubs your nose with his own. “Will you do that?”
“Yes,” you whisper and press your lips against his. “I’ll be fine.”
You look out the window at the coffee shop where you sit and wait for your sister to show up. They have various colors of red and pink hearts cut from paper taped to the windows in honor of Valentine's day coming up. You wonder if you and Yoongi will do anything that day, but you know you probably won't. It's okay, though. You don't really think that it's that important of a holiday. Last year, he made you dinner followed by the rest of the night in bed. You chuckle to yourself, thinking back to what Lisa had said. Maybe you will take a picture of what's hidden in your closet to intince him to come home that night. No, you're still too embarrassed just thinking about it.
You turn your attention to the glass of water on the table that you ordered when you sat down. It was cold in your hands as you played with it, turning it around and around as the ice clanked against the clear surface. You are not much of a coffee drinker and only drank it socially when you felt like you had to. Jisoo and Lisa need their tall latte, something with extra pumps of stuff to drink every day to survive. Yoongi drinks his black, and it takes like dirt. Much like flowers, you never understood the appeal of coffee and why people liked it so much. Maybe it was the caffeine or just the routine of having it every morning. You check your watch and see you have been waiting for ten minutes, but it sure felt like hours.
The bell to the entrance of the coffee shop jingles as you see your sister finally enter and look around the shop for you. When she spots you, you see her take a deep breath and walk over to the table in the far corner where you sat. There weren't many people around you, you thought that was for the best. As she sits across from you, you sit up just a little straighter in your own chair, straightening your posture. The server comes by and takes her order before either of you can say anything to each other. She ordered some soy something, and it sounded nasty.
"I'm surprised you actually texted me back,” she said, looking at you as she pushed her perfectly smooth hair behind her ears. It didn't seem that she was nervous at all, or she was at least good at covering it up.
“Me too,” you say truthfully as your foot under the table starts to tap quickly. “What did you want to talk about?”
There's a heavy silence that passes between you two as you stare at each other. You break eye contact, and you let your fingers grab a brown paper napkin that was in front of you. You roll it up and unroll it, over and over again, just to keep your hands busy. You wish you could at least appear half as confident as she looks. You both smile at the server, who brings the drink over and places it in front of her on the table. You watch as she takes a sip and places it back down on the table.
“Mingyu and I have been going to couples therapy for the last few months. It was his idea. He admitted during a session that our family dynamic is making him have second thoughts, and he is afraid to have a family with me,” she tells you. “He doesn't like how mom hovers or how you and I don't talk. I promised him that I would sit down with you and try to talk this out. See if we can repair our relationship.”
“Here I am,” you say, and she nods her head.
“I’ve thought about what I wanted to say to you for weeks before I finally got the courage to reach out to you, but now I don't know anymore. Now that I'm here in front of you, it all sounds stupid.” she admits. Her fingernails lightly tap a steady rhythm on her coffee cup. “I even wrote everything down and rehearsed it, but it still just comes out all wrong.”
“Just say it,” you urge, and your fingers grip the napkin harder. The ware on it starts creating small tears in the thin brown material. You were both nervous.
“As much as I don't want to admit it. I’ve been thinking about it a lot and…” she whispers, staring at her coffee and stirring it with her spoon. “I think I was jealous of you.”
“What?” You ask, your voice full of disbelief and face full of confusion. Your sister is jealous of you? There was absolutely no way that you heard her correctly. “What do you mean?”
“She was always so overbearing with me. She had to control everything in my life. I had such high standards to live up to, and I had to work so hard to get there because I couldn't let her down. She told me all the time that I couldn't let her down. If I wasn’t the best, I was letting her down. I had to come first in everything. Etiquette classes, pageants, dance, student council, valedictorian ….” she trailed off, remembering everything that she had been a part of. “I had to be perfect but not you. She left you alone, and I HATED you for that. I hated that you didn't have to put in all that hard work that I did. I hated that you could make mistakes, and I couldn't.”
“You were jealous that I was ignored and yelled at?” you ask, scrunching your face at her. “What are you talking about?”
“Yes…no,” she looked frustrated as she looked up at you. “Remember when we would go camping at grandma and grandpa's cabin?”
“Yeah, the whole family went. You hated going,” you answer, wondering why this was important. “You looked miserable the whole time.”
“No, I didn't hate it. I was just never allowed to do anything. You got to go play with our cousins running around outside in the woods and I had to sit with mom because she didn't want me to get dirt under my nails or god forbid any scrapes that could be seen from a stage. You got to go to birthday parties and sleepovers. I couldn't because she always had to make sure that was sticking to my diet. I had to make sure I could fit in all my costumes at all times. She made every decision for me, but you…you got to do whatever you wanted,” she explains. “My whole life revolved around her and making her happy. All my decisions in life before I moved away were all made by her. I don't even think I know who I really am. I only know the person she crafted me to be.”
“I didn't know things were like that,” you told her softly.
“When I got to college, I almost had a panic attack because I didn't have her there with me telling me what to do. It was like I got so reliant on her, and I was scared,” she said with a sad smile. “Then I met Yoongi.”
You squirm in your seat at the mention of his name. Deep inside, you hoped that you could avoid any conversation about him. Unfortunately, you know he is a big point of contention right now, and he wasn't going to go away. He was going to be in your life forever, but there was no way you could possibly ever think about picking your sister over him if you were forced to choose.
“What about him?” you ask nervously, biting some loose skin on your dry lips.
“It was like….he was the first thing that was all mine,” she said thoughtfully.
“Thing? Do you hear yourself?” You ask, your jaw dropping a little. “Yoongi isn't a thing. He is a person.”
“I know that. You know what I mean,” she snaps a little bit but takes a breath and calms herself. “It was so great at first. We would go out on dates and hang out with friends in the dorms. It was almost like I finally had a normal life for once. A life that I made on my own, and mom had nothing to do with it. Then he started wanting to hang around you because he was always worried about you, and I didn't want to share his attention. I didn't know how to share his or anyones attention.”
“We were friends,” you tell her.
“Just friends? You know, he never got me anything for my birthday. He always said that he didn't like celebrating them,” she whispers as she slowly turns her engagement ring on her finger. It sparkled beautifully when it caught the sunlight at the right angle.“He always got you something though, didn't he?”
“I guess,” you can feel guilt swirl in your stomach because you can't deny her words.
“I tried to be perfect for him,” she says as a couple of stray tears fall down her face. “I did everything I thought I was supposed to do. I gave him all my attention. Had as much sex as he wanted, but it just wasn't enough. Why wasn't I perfect enough for him? Why couldn't I earn his love? I was good at earning people's love and attention.”
“You don't have to earn someone's love,” you explain. “That's not how that works, and you don't have to be perfect for anyone.”
“Will you be honest with me?” she asks softly, and you nod your head as you feel your nerves kick back in. “Were you ever with him when he and I were together?”
“No,” you say automatically. “I wouldn't have done that to you. We never crossed that line.”
“I could see the way he would look at you when he thought I wasn't around. He never looked at me that way. I….just could feel him slipping away from me, but I didn't want to let him go. I knew if I let him go…..he would run right to you,” she told you. “I was right.”
“I….” You start, but nothing else comes out. She was right, and once again, you couldn't deny it. He did run to you…eventually.
“How awful is that? I kept all three of us unhappy because I didn't want to fail at being someone's girlfriend,” she says, wiping her face. “I didn't know how to deal with failure because if I failed, that meant I wasn't perfect. It was never an option before.”
“He told me he felt guilty for how bad your relationship got,” you tell her, and she looks at you questioningly.
“Did he say anything else?” she asks, hiccuping slightly.
Yes, you thought to yourself. He called her suffocating, but there was no way that you could tell her that. She didn't deserve that, and you didn't want to hurt her. You had to choose your words wisely.
“He just said that you two were just…too different,” it wasn't a lie he did say that. “He said that it would have never worked out, and he should have broken it off sooner.”
The two of you fall into silence again. You take your water in your hands again and turn the glass around and around once again. You notice the ice has melted quickly. The condensation makes your hands wet this time, and you move to wipe them on your jeans. It leaves behind streaky handprints on the material of your jeans. Your sister takes a sip of her soy coffee and looks out the window as she sits her mug back on the table. She looks like she's trying to gather her thoughts. You give her the time she needs.
“I love Mingyu. I really love Mingyu,” she says, still looking out the window. “I honestly don't think that I ever TRULY loved Yoongi, not like I love Mingyu anyway. I was just so desperate. I'm just terrified that I will make the same mistakes…”
“No,” you say, cutting her off. “He loves you. He obviously wants to work on it if he wants to do therapy with you. He's fighting for you two, and you should work with him. You need to let Yoongi go. You're not a failure. You just….didn't know any better.”
“I'm sorry,” she said as her bottom lip quivered. “I'm so sorry. I see it now, I do. I know how awful I was. I'm working so hard to change for Mingyu….for myself.”
Tears well in your own eyes. You've never seen her like this. You have seen her cry, of course, throw a fit and have a tantrum, but this….this is new. This was raw, real, and it hurt you to watch her like this. You blink, and your own tears flow freely down your face.
“You don't have to accept my apology,” she says softly, wiping at her face again. “I probably wouldn't if I were you.”
“Can I say something?” You ask, your own voice shaky.
“Yes,” she says just as softly as before.
“I'm still hurt,” you tell her, and she looks down at her coffee. “I think a part of me will always be hurt no matter how many apologies I get or how much time passes. It's always going to linger somewhere.”
“I understand,” she says, nodding her head.
"But,” you continue, but your breath catches and you hiccup. “I want my big sister in my life.”
You start crying openly and sniffle as your nose starts to run. She looks at you with wide eyes and new tears form in her eyes. She blinks, and they fall down onto her perfectly unblemished face. This time, she doesn't wipe them away. They fall onto her pretty sweater, leaving wet spots as they soak into the material. You're sure if you look around, people would be staring at the two of you crying together in the corner. The two of you probably looked messy.
“Really?” she sobbed.
“Yeah. No Mom. No Yoongi or Mingyu,” you say. “Just you and me. I think we can figure it out if we don't rush it.”
You reach your hand across the table and place it in the center with your palm up. She stares at you for a moment before slowly reaching across and taking your hand in hers tentatively. You both smile a teary smile at each other. You don't even think that you can remember ever touching her like this…ever but it felt nice…almost normal.
“We will figure it out,” she promised, squeezing your hand. You nod your head…..you will.
Yoongi was walking around his studio with his earbuds in his ears when you finally arrived. You and your sister stayed sitting in the cafe for another hour, drying your tears together. You steered your conversation to her wedding. You wanted to lighten the heavy atmosphere with a happy topic. You learned she hired a wedding planner, and she thinks that's why your mom has been on your ass about helping you so much. Her wedding planner was lovely, but she was a no-nonsense woman who wasn't afraid to shut your mothers suggestions down or kick her out of a flower shop or two when she tried to take over. Everything makes sense now as to why she was so pushy. She told you not to give into her demands and even offered to give you her wedding planner's business card. You refused, saying you were already too far in now to stop. You hope you don't live to regret that decision.
Yoongi's head snapped up and looked at you when you entered the room. You could feel your bottom lip begin to tremble as you stood there and stared at him. He ripped his ear buds out and let them fall to the floor with a clattering sound as they bounced. Launching yourself at him, you wrapped your arms around him tightly.
“I fucking knew it,” he snapped. “Give me her number. I will deal with it once and for all.”
“No,” you cry out, gripping onto him tighter. “It's fine, it's fine. We…we're good. We are going to go to their wedding.”
“What?” he asks and pulls away from you as he looks at you like you grew another head. “Did I just hear you right? You and me….me… going to her wedding?”
“Yes,” you confirm. “I'm going to send her and Mingyu an invitation as well,” you say, and he sits down in his chair.
“What happened?” he asks, running a hand through his hair. He looks at the floor for a minute before looking back at you just as bewildered as before.
“Turns out…..she was hurt just as much as I was,” you tell him and he cocks his head to the side in contemplation. “We are going to take things slow and get to know each other….without anyone around.”
“Okay, I get it,” he says, raising his hands in surrender.
Yoongi sits back in his chair and crosses his ankle over his knee. He looks at his computer and then back to your exhausted and blotchy face. Turning his chair away from you. You watch as he shuts down his computer and presses a few buttons on his thingamajig behind it. You'll remember what it's called later.
“Let's go home,” he says, standing up and bringing you close to him.
“What about the album?” You ask, tilting your head up to look at him.
“I'm close to finishing it,” he tells you, as he drops a quick kiss to your lips. “It will still be here tomorrow.”
“Home?” you ask softly.
“Home,” he confirms.
Yoongi takes your hand in his. It's the same one your sister held not too long ago. You smile brilliantly up at him. Home.
A/N 3: Okay, so originally, it was not a happy ending for the sisters. MCs sister couldn't take responsibility for anything and even accused her of wanting Mingyu. The more I sat on it, the more I wasn't happy with it. This was the final outcome.
note: omg !!! written for the 1st part cos i need to set the MOOD. hope u guys love it <3 i'm super hungover and this fic idea helped me recover buwhauhaa. pls give this new bbydady couple lots of love !
the sound of laughter and chatter spills into the hallway as you and hyemi hurry toward yoongi’s condo. as you balance a large steaming dishes in your arms, the tantalizing aroma of the main course wafts behind you two.
“how much shit do you think they’re gonna give me for being 45 minutes late?” you ask, glancing sideways at hyemi.
she adjusts the way she holds the 2 bottles of wine to knock on the door. they clink together as she answers you;
“they can eat shit,” hyemi laughs. “you know everyone starved themselves today for your food, right?”
just then, jin answers the door.
he greets you both, taking the meals from your arms. as you step inside, you hear everyones laughter and conversations clearer. nam joon’s earnest chatter with yoongi and hobi, jin calling taehyung to help him in the kitchen, and jungkook annoying jimin.
yoongi’s condo is filled with balloons and decorations celebrating their clinic’s launch, and the scent of various appetizers danced in the air. everyone is sprawled around the spacious living room, drinks in hand and smiles on their faces. everyone is in their own clothes and it feels strange to see them without their scrubs… not to mention; all together.
it feels surreal to think they’re all celebrating the launch of their private clinic.
the dream they had worked so hard to achieve.
the dream they deserve to have become a reality.
“finally!” nam joon cries out. he makes his way to you two, greets you, and then pulls hyemi into a hug. they exchange a quick kiss before wrapping her in his arms and turning to you. “thought you were gonna bail on us.”
you roll your eyes at him.
“how is it that you’re a doctor but always make it out like i’m busier than you?”
nam joon shrugs. “you’re a chef. that shits just as hard.”
“it’s not medical school,” you argue. “but i appreciate the recognition of my career choice… are you sucking up to me because you're hungry?”
nam joon puts his hands up.
“you can’t be the chef of our friendgroup and expect us not take advantage of it.”
you share a look with hyemi.
“joon, i’m expecting full free health care from you as payment for all the times i’ve fed you. from all the times i’ve fed all of you—”
jimin and jungkook raise their beer cans at you.
“yah! you’re the reason my body gets enough protein—”
as the group gathers around yoongi’s dining table, the atmosphere buzzes with excitement and camaraderie.
you’re in the kitchen, finishing the last touches on the meal you’ve prepared. you spent the entire day crafting this feast, and satisfaction blooms in your chest, especially with your final dish—a beautifully plated coq au vin, featuring tender chicken simmered in rich red wine, mushrooms, and pearl onions, all nestled together like a cozy family.
“dinner is served!” you announce.
as you approach the table, you scan for a seat or space for yourself. just as your gaze flits around, yoongi catches on and instantly stands up, his demeanor relaxed yet attentive. he gestures for you to take his seat.
“sit here. i’ll grab a chair from the living room,” he says, his voice calm and sure.
“it’s okay. i can—o-oh. wait—” you start, but before you can finish, yoongi is already striding toward the living room, his movements effortless. he returns, chair in hand, setting it down beside your spot and patting the seat next to him with a casual invitation.
your eyes meet for a moment, and the world around you fades as you hold his gaze, warmth blooming in your chest.
you smile and sit beside him.
“everything looks amazing, by the way,” yoongi leans in to whisper into your ear. “thank you for cooking for us tonight.”
he places his hand a little above your knee, a light touch that sends a thrill through you.
your heart skips for a moment, and just before it can race, he pulls his hand away.
“alright, everyone! before we dive in, let’s raise our glasses…” nam joon declares, lifting his glass of wine high. “here’s to our hard work and dedication. i can’t imagine being in this field of work without you guys… we did it! we have our own private practice. cheers!”
“cheers!” everyone echoes, their glasses clinking together.
as the group begins to serve themselves, you watch them dig into the coq au vin, anticipation swirling in your stomach. carefully, you observe their expressions transform after the first bite. jin and hobi’s eyes widen in delight, jungkook scrunches his face in exaggerated anger, while jimin and taehyung slump back in their chairs, clearly taken aback. hyemi and nam joon share a knowing look, and yoongi tilts his head, a small smile gracing his lips.
“holy shit, ___."
“you’ve outdone yourself.”
“i’m so glad i was skinny today… i have extra room in my pants to eat everything here,” jungkook moans. “fuck, ___. let me know when you wanna get married.”
everyone chokes on their food. from the corner of your eye, you watch for yoongi's reaction. he doesn't make a face or say anything. instead, he continues to eat and ignore jungkook's childish comment.
then, as you look away, you catch the way his grip tightens around his fork and knife.
puffing your cheeks, you turn your attention back to the group.
"marriage? you know i want a baby,” you huff, half-joking but with a hint of truth. "fuck, i want a baby so bad."
hyemi rolls her eyes. “we’ve been known.”
the baby fever you have is no secret to your friend group; it’s been a running joke since the beginning of time. with every glimpse of a baby in a stroller or at the mall, to the endless stream of baby videos shared in the group chat—everyone knows. the irony is that you’re simply too busy to have one. work takes most of your time, and you’re barely into dating, yet the baby fever lingers, woven into your very being. like how some people are just meant to be moms? that’s you.
everyone bursts into laughter, their playful jabs surrounding you like a warm blanket. everyone except for yoongi. he stays quiet, stealing a glance your way, a slight crease in his brow as he observes.
as you begin to eat, yoongi bumps shoulders with you, the casual touch sending a small jolt through your side.
“___,” he starts, his voice low and teasing. “i might have to request a cooking lesson. your food is too good.”
you bump shoulders back, a smirk playing on your lips. “don’t you cook?”
“not like this. not like you.”
you scoff lightly, shaking your head. “sure, i’ll accept your cooking lesson request… but only if you pay for the ingredients.”
he leans back in his chair, a glimmer of amusement dancing in his eyes.
then, he places his hand on your upper thigh again. this time, he squeezes it.
your heart begins to race.
yoongi’s soft gaze shifts toward you, the confident glint in his eyes paired with a playful smile.
“sure, ___. whatever you want.”
once dinner is finished and the dishes are cleared, everyone gathers around the living room. hobi puts on a movie, but the flickering screen fades into the background as everyone spreads out. jungkook is lounging on the couch, flanked by jimin and taehyung, who are playfully bickering. on the opposite end, nam joon and hyemi are cuddled together. meanwhile, hobi, jin, you, and yoongi are settled on the floor, engaged in a mindless card game. there's an easy banter flowing between you all.
“honestly, i don’t think i’ve fully processed it yet,” jungkook admits, scratching his head with a sheepish grin. “guys… we have our own fucking practice. we’re so adult.”
taehyung’s eyes sparkle with mischief as he leans back against the couch. “well, since we’re all adults now, let’s celebrate like we did back then—with something childish.”
jimin’s eyes light up at the suggestion.
“oh, i know exactly where this is going.”
yoongi rolls his eyes, feigning annoyance, but a small smirk tugs at the corners of his mouth. he puts his cards down and turns to taehyung and jimin.
“you guys can’t seriously be suggesting truth or dare.”
suddenly, everyone sits up.
“why not?” hyemi teases, nudging namjoon. he sits up, suddenly interested. “awh, we used to play that all the time! let’s use a wine bottle for the questions and shots for the skipping.”
“yes, let’s do it!” taehyung chimes in, bouncing slightly in excitement. “might as well go all in.”
as the group settles into the idea, everyone sprawls on the living room floor, cushions scattered around them.
the movie playing in the background has been completely forgotten. you head to the kitchen to grab a wine bottle, along with a few shot glasses, and return to find your friends buzzing with anticipation.
with a grin, you place the bottle in the center of the circle, pouring shots for everyone as you settle next to jungkook and hyemi.
“whose going first?”
“i will,” nam joon says, and with a determined flick of his wrist, he spins the bottle. it lands on jungkook. with a playful grin, nam joon asks, “jungkook, truth or dare?”
“dare,” jungkook replies confidently, puffing out his chest.
“i dare you to text an ex and say you miss them.”
jungkook’s confidence wavers for a brief moment. his bravado fades. “t-truth! i pick truth—”
“boo!” everyone hollers, giving him a few playful hits.
defeated but laughing, he pulls out his phone and reluctantly types the message. as the sound of the text being sent echoes through the room, cheers erupt from his friends.
“who’d you text?” jimin asks, curiosity bubbling over.
“your mom,” jungkook quips with a smirk.
jin snorts before breaking into laughter. jungkook raises his hands in surrender. “you guys said you wanna be childish? fine by me!”
the game continues, laughter and playful banter filling the air. after a few more rounds, jimin finally gets a chance to spin the bottle, his excitement palpable.
it lands on yoongi.
jimin grins, the tension in the room shifting into something playful. “alright, yoongi, you’re up. truth or dare?”
“truth,” yoongi replies, his expression cool but his eyes glinting with intrigue.
“okay,” jimin says, his voice laced with mischief as he shoots a devilish glance around the room. “if you could sleep with anyone in the world with no consequences, who would it be?”
laughter erupts, mingling with the muffled sounds of the movie. yoongi holds jimin’s gaze for a moment, and you notice his eyes flicker to you, almost imperceptibly.
the moment is fleets but it's lingers in your heart the moment he looks away.
without a word, yoongi lifts his glass and takes a shot instead, opting for silence.
“shit…” taehyung gasps, breaking the tension. “is it me?”
as the laughter continues, you look forward and meet yoongi's eyes. he clears his throat and turns away. for a moment, you think;
shit.
it's me.
the night goes on with more playful dares and laughs, but as it winds down, everyone soon heads out the door. hyemi and nam joon hug you goodbye as you gather your cooking equipment. once they leave, yoongi walks into the kitchen, surprised to see you still there.
you two are alone.
when you two are alone… things change. you aren’t sure how to describe the feeling or the exact shift in atmosphere… but it’s there. it happens and there’s always this lingering silence that suffocates you. it’s not uncomfortable, it’s rather… daring.
though it’s unspoken, you two find difficulty in ignoring the loud bells.
maybe it was the way yoongi’s gaze lingers on you when you aren’t looking. how he traces the curve of your smile and the way you tuck your hair behind your ear. or how your eyes light up an entire city when someone compliments your food.
truth be told, yoongi's crush on you is like a steady and familiar presence. something he could never quite shake.
not when you two first met.
not when you dated 3 guys in a row and got fucked over each time.
not when you go through baby fever so bad you cry about it like it’ll never happen to you.
yoongi notices things about you that others don’t. like the way you chew your lip when you’re in deep thought or before you admit to something. how you have a specific laugh for different levels of things you find funny.
whatever it is; it just remains as it is.
over the years of being friends with you, there were obvious times he thought about closing that space between you two… but something kept him from doing it. maybe it’s the group dynamic, or simply the fear that you didn’t feel the same.
“sorry, you must be tired. i’ll be out of here in a bit—”
“you’re still here?” yoongi teases.
you roll your eyes at him.
“unfortunately.”
“no, no,” yoongi insists. “take your time. did you drive? or are hyemi and joon waiting for you downstairs?”
“i drove and picked up hyemi. she’s sleeping at joon’s tonight so they left.”
yoongi shifts closer to you, beginning to help you pack up. he looks through his cupboard and finds a bag for you to put all your containers in. when you finish packing up, he takes the bag and walks you to the door.
“so… no answer to that truth question, huh?" you tease, raising an eyebrow. "didn't take you for a pussy."
yoongi chuckles softly, looking down briefly before meeting your eyes. “wouldn’t have been much of a game if i gave it away that easily."
“but that’s the literal point of playing truth or dare and choosing truth.”
he scoffs, “for a chef, you’re a big know-it-all… you know that?”
"come on, yoongi," you inch closer to him. “was it really taehyung?”
he pauses, unamused.
"you really want to know?"
you nod, curious but also feeling your heart pick up just a little. your cheeks might flush in a few seconds too.
yoongi leans in slightly.
"fine. it was you."
your eyes widen, unsure how to react to his confession. it surprises you but it’s also such a weird feeling to get this confirmation… you feel warm inside.
you feel butterflies.
attempting to keep your voice steady, you ask; "me?"
yoongi shrugs, keeping it casual though his steady and sincere gaze. "guess you just… crossed my mind. more than once. i don’t know. sorry if this makes you think of me differently—”
a beat.
“no,” you blink. “i… if jimin had asked me the question i would’ve answered the same.”
yoongi tilts his head.
“answered it like what?”
you chew your bottom lip.
just as you gather the courage to make your confession, yoongi drops your things, steps towards you and places his arm around your waist. he doesn’t waste a second.
he pulls you in—
yoongi kisses you for the first time.
“holy fucking shit—” yoongi hisses in between your legs. “you taste so good, ___.”
you lift your head and watch him.
yoongi’s head bobs up and down. you fight the urge to squeeze your legs together as you feel the texture of his tongue brush the insides of your fold. you feel him spit on your clit and suck on it. when he does this, it gives you no choice but to grab a handful of his hair.
you moan.
yoongi smirks, loving the way you’re reacting. you feed his ego more than he ever anticipated you to. it’s so special to him.
as yoongi finishes eating you out, he shifts his body on top. softly, he runs the back of his hand from your waist to your ankles. he takes one of them and puts it over his shoulder. you shuffle, getting more comfortable in his bed.
“you’re really pretty,” he blurts. “i.. uh, i really like you in this position.”
you blush, tightening your lips.
“t-thanks,” you say a little awkwardly. there’s a silence between you two as the literal position begins to sink in your head. “are we g-going to…”
yoongi’s soft gaze cuts short. “oh. shit, yeah. sorry, you… you just distracted me.”
you can’t help but laugh.
“you’re about to fuck me and you’re saying my face is distracting you?”
he shrugs.
“you have nice tits too.”
he grabs them without warning. squeezing them, you laugh a little louder. then, he slaps them and a small gasp escapes your lips.
“shit. let me get a condom—”
you shift and shake your head at him. you bite your bottom lip, you offer him a sincere look.
“i… i don’t sleep with people that often. i know you’re a doctor and all but i—”
yoongi chuckles.
“fuck, do you have an impregnation kink?” he pieces it all together. “i mean, no shit… and i’m okay with fucking you raw. i haven’t slept with anyone in like, 2 years—”
“what?” you ask in disbelief.
yoongi is hot. he's a fucking dermatology nurse practitioner too... he can cook and is gentle... not to mention, his dick is huge.
“too busy. too tired. too lazy.”
you snicker at him. “really? you aren’t too tired right now.”
yoongi smiles cheekily before leaning in and kiss you. he kisses you deep, slipping his tongue inside your mouth. you suck it as he pulls away.
he rests his forehead against yours and hums, “can we have sex now?”
you laugh and hit his bare shoulders.
he places himself back into his desired position and slides his cock in between your folds. he sinks it in a little, sending shivers down your spine. you feel how hard it is—how veiny and thick it feels against your skin. yoongi then sharply inhales as the sound of his dick slapping against your wet pussy echoes.
“f-fuck.”
you let out a whimper and clenched your fist. “put it in. need you.”
your words are music to yoongi’s ears.
he sinks himself inside you. your lips part as you adjust to the feeling of his dick entering inside. it’s big and girthy. the curves it has hits spots you didn’t know could hit.
“oh m-my god,” you breathe. “y-yoongi… think y-you’re too big.”
“am i supposed to feel sorry for you?” he snarks. “come on, ___. you can take it.”
you nod, gulping with determination. you shut your eyes, feeling him thrust in and out of you. he does so slowly but surely, making sure to push in every inch of his length. you wince a couple of times, feeling the burn.
then, after a few more strokes… you feel it.
the pleasure.
yoongi picks up the pace once he sees your begin to enjoy the feeling. he smirks, leaning down for another kiss. you kiss him back, passionately. when he pulls away, he cups your face with his hand and places his thumb in your mouth.
you suck it.
yoongi watches.
he watches as you play with his thumb. licking it, sucking it, and swirling your tongue around it. he watches as your tits move to his thrusts. he watches as your eyes roll back.
he loves it.
the sight is beyond beautiful.
it’s life changing to him.
then, he shifts. he takes your leg down and fully sets himself on top of you. he fucks you faster, burying his face in the crook of your neck. you wrap your arms and legs around him as he digs himself deeper and deeper. he moans in your ear and it feels like with all the lewd sounds in your room—your pussy might explode.
yoongi feels you tighten.
his dick gets harder.
“s-shit, ___… you’re so tight. you feel so good.”
his voice is low and drips with sin.
just when he feels himself about to cum, he pulls out.
you reposition yourself.
this time, you spread your legs out like a v. yoongi plants his hands on either side of you. you reach over and put his dick inside. he bows his head low, biting your shoulder as he begins to fuck you.
yoongi pounds you.
like, to the point where you’re practically screaming.
“o-oh! oh my god, y-yoongi. d-don’t stop. f-fuck, yes. yes, yes yes!” you chant. "fuck! ngghhh, i love your dick. mpffhh—oh god, oh god!"
again, it’s music to his ears.
“i’m gonna cum—”
you reach down and pull his dick out.
“w-what—”
you tug yoongi’s body down and roll over until you stradle him on top. as you sit on him, you quickly put his dick inside you. by now, yoongi’s climax has calmed.
“can you cum inside me?” you ask, lacing your fingers together.
you begin to grind on him. yoongi’s eyes flutter to watch the way your hips move against his stomach. he watches as you fuck yourself on him.
“please, yoongi? i want a baby. remember?”
yoongi nods. “i remember. fuck, you want my cum?”
batting your eyelashes at him, you pout. “mhm.. will you give me a baby? i want your cum. don’t you think i deserve it? see how good i’m fucking myself on you right now?”
“yes.”
“tell me i’m doing a good job, daddy.”
yoongi hisses.
he doesn’t really give a fuck about the whole daddy kink thing… or the impregnation bullshit. people are into what they’re into. but for some reason… this drives him crazy. the way your tone is so soft and desperate, he thinks to himsef;
fuck.
i have to give it you.
you’re too pretty to say no to.
“you’re doing so good, ___. fuck, i love how you fuck me.”
you place your hands on his chest and lean forward for stability. you bounce on his hard cock, making sure the sound of your ass hitting his abdomen is as loud as it can be.
“do you like it when i fuck you like this?” you say, slightly panting. “you like it when i’m about to milk your cock? gonna make you cum. need it.”
“mhm?” yoongi moans. “f-fuck, yeah. you need my cum? you need a baby so bad? you want my babies?”
you nod viciously.
“yes, daddy. need every drop, yoongi. i'm gonna be mad at you if you let it spill out. need your babies.”
with that, yoongi reaches over and grabs a handful of your ass. he helps you fuck him faster and faster. by now, you’re out of breath and yoongi can barely keep his eyes open. the pleasure is so vibrant. it’s sharp and so ready to be released.
“f-fuck, ___. i’m actually gonna cum now. gonna pull out—”
you pout.
“b-but i was serious,” you confess. “you can pull out… but just know; i don’t want you to.”
there’s a look in your eyes that tugs yoongi’s heart strings. he isn’t sure how to go about this. he’s never cum inside someone before… but this was you.
you’re so special to him.
and you want it so bad…
yoongi never thought he’d be this way. laying here with you on top of him, begging for his cum. without even trying, it’s like you make him question every decision and wall he puts up. it’s stupid, really—he knows he’s in control of his decisions here. no one is forcing anyone to do anything and you aren’t convincing him in a way where he’s uncomfortable.
but it’s different.
with you, it’s fucking different.
you caught him off guard and the way you ask him for this makes everything feel so simple.
perhaps its the way you offer him a gentle smile or the way he’s always known you’ve wanted a baby… and the opportunity to give that to you? even if it’s not for real and this is just an in-the-moment kind of thing… fuck, how could he deny you this? he can’t ignore it.
maybe he doesn’t want to.
his thoughts take him away for a second too long. your smile turns into a nod. just as you’re about to get off him, he grabs your waist and helps you fuck him fast.
chasing the high, he groans as he reaches his climax.
he tugs your body as close to him as possible.
yoongi might have lost his mind because—
he folds.
yoongi cums inside you.
he cums so much that his creampie spills out. you giggle as you get off and lay down next to him. yoongi gets on his elbows and spreads your legs open. with soft touches, he takes his fingers and helps shove the spilling cum inside your pussy.
you play with his hair as he does this.
then, when he’s finished he moves back to lay beside you.
a thick silence fills the space between you two.
“i.. w-wow,” he stutters. “are you okay?”
you gulp.
“yeah… thank you for… u-uh… i don’t know if that was awkward for you but it really… i really… i liked it a lot. thank you.”
yoongi chuckles.
he shifts and fixes his sheets for you. he drapes his blanket over your body and adjusts the way you lay on his pillow. leaning in beside you, he kisses the top of your head and caresses your cheek.
“i liked it too. besides,” he says softly. “what are friends for?”
Welcome to Little Mix’s Mixtape. Eight different stories inspired by eight different songs. Heartbreak, mystery, sex, infidelity, pettiness and becoming one self, what more can you want from a story?
Bangtan Anime | ♞ | | ♚ | | ♛ | | ♜ |
Reality sucks. When the world glitches and creates different versions of itself, Bangtan Anime is created. Eight different worlds with eight different storylines. So much can happen in these stories; sex, romance, magic and so much more. Let’s find out what happens, shall we! ~
The Legendary Seven | ♞ | | ♚ | | ♛ | | ♜ |
“The legendary seven, Kim Namjoon, Kim Seokjin, Min Yoongi, Jung Hoseok, Park Jimin, Kim Taehyung, and shit head (Jeon Jungkook). The top students and the wealthiest, they always mean trouble.”
One Shots:
The Darkness Within
Drabbles:
Lies
Crush Culture
Brothers
New Beginnings
Once In A Lifetime
Sticky
Series:
The People’s Princess | ♞ | | ♚ | | ♛ | | ♟ |
Summary: “I, Y/N L/N, take thee Seokjin, to my wedded husband. To have and hold. From this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love, to cherish and to…to obey. Till death do us part…”
She looked at the man she barely knew for a month with an emotionless look. She turned towards her family to be met with sorrowful looks. This day was supposed to be the most beautiful day, a moment in a woman’s life that signified a new chapter. A chapter that she no longer wants if he was part of the story.
One Shots:
In Your Light
Ice Princess
Already Mine
Spice
Drabbles:
“Promise”
“Strawberry Fields”
“Tee Shirt”
“My Sun”
“My Fisherman”
“Welcome Home”
Series:
The People’s Princess | ♞ | | ♚ | | ♛ | | ♟ |
Wishes | ♞ | | ♚ | | ♛ |
Summary: After a long day of classes, Min Yoongi decides to take a break at the music hall that has become his second home. He walks in with his cigarette lit and his blank expression that quickly changes when he sees a girl playing his piano. The moment their eyes meet, their lives become complicated and Yoongi blames himself for her future pain. Was the love we had honest?
One shots:
Geronimo
Heart Attack
Eyes On Me
Bad Boy ( Deleted Scene )
Drabbles:
“Happy New Years”
“The CEO’s Day Off”
“Loveable”
“Timezone”
“Mr. Cold”
“My Melody”
Series:
| None Yet |
One shots:
Oh, Oh It’s Magic
Eternity
I See You!
Drabbles:
“Happy birthday!”
“The First Date”
“Selfish”
“Letters To You”
“Wish You The Best”
Series:
| None Yet |
One shots:
Promise
Baby Come To Me
Scientist
Passenger
Drabbles:
“Kim Y/N”
“Traditions”
“Brand New”
“Baby Daddy” ( Part Two )
“My Flower”
Series:
| None Yet |
One shots:
Human
Double Trouble
Spiral
Danger!
Drabbles:
“Anything will be alright”
“My Everything”
“Lose You”
“Salty & Sweet”
“Photograph”
Series:
That Irish Barista (M) | ♞ | | ♚ | | ♛ | | ♜ |
Summary: “Did you just ask me if I sell coffee in a fucking coffee shop?” And with that, Taehyung was smitten by the Barista in the crazy flower sweater vest. Friendships will form but most importantly Taehyung will finally meet his soulmate.
One shots:
My Favorite Muffin
The Way To Me: I II III
Not About Angels
Drabbles:
“My muffin”
“Holiday”
“Forever Here”
“Amar Pelos Dois”
“Trust”
Series:
I Fell In Love With A Girl Group Stan | | ♞ | | ♚ || ♛ || ♜ || ✆ | | ♟ |
His Fan Girl | ♞ | | ♚ || ♛ || ♜ || ✆ |
Summary: Everything was perfect until it wasn’t. Y/N and Jungkook love each other but when familiar and new faces come into their lives, things get complicated. On top of that, a surprise that truly shakes their plans for the future. Will their relationship push forward or will Jungkook lose his fangirl once and for all?
