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The Music Between Us

Pairing: Producer!Yoongi x University_Student!Reader Genre: Meet-Cute, Slice of life, Romance, Smut, Fluff, Strangers-to-Lovers, Age Gap AU (6 years) Rating: 18+ | Minors DNI Warnings: Explicit sexual content [lots of kissing, make out (rooftop bar, University hidden spot), glimpses of intimacy at his apartment (first time + mirror sex), studio sex, oral (f receiving), pussy eating (tongue technology 😈), teasing and fingering, multiple orgasms, riding his thigh, riding him, protected sex], ovulation-driven horniness, filthy-dirty talk, smoking-alcohol mentions Word Count: ~12k Summary: After a terrible day at university in a new city, you meet a quiet, mysterious man smoking on a rooftop bar. What starts as a comforting conversation slowly turns into something deeper. You never expected the calm, thoughtful man who helps you with your music theory research paper would turn out to be the famous producer Suga (not idol) that everyone talks about. P.S.: First time created moodboard... kinda nervous 😅🤭 [MASTERLIST]

You pushed open the heavy rooftop door and stepped into the cool evening air. It had only been three weeks since you moved to Seoul, but every day still felt like a whirlwind... too noisy, too busy, too fast for you to keep up with.

The brutal critique from Professor Kim today was your final straw.

“Surface level,” he’d said in front of everyone, tapping your paper with two fingers like it personally offended him. “You’re describing the notes, but where’s the soul behind the artistry? This is music, not a textbook summary.”

Your cheeks still burned at the memory.

The rooftop was quieter than the streets below, the hum of traffic distant. You walked to the far corner railing, gripping the cool metal, and breathed in the night air... cool, laced with cigarette smoke, champagne and distant rain.

A few meters away, a man leaned against the railing, alone.

Black hoodie, dark hair falling slightly over his eyes, a cigarette glowing between his fingers. He looked relaxed, like the chaos of the city didn’t dare touch him.

You didn’t recognize him.

Just another stranger in a city full of them.

You closed your eyes and let the breeze hit your face, trying to push the day away.

“Rough night?” His voice was low, slightly raspy.

You opened your eyes.

He was watching you now, cigarette paused halfway to his lips.

“Yeah,” you admitted, managing a tired smile. “More like a rough three weeks. I’m new here. University’s kicking my ass.”

He gave a small nod, like he understood more than you expected. “New city hits different. Everything feels too sharp at first. Been there.” He took a slow drag, then exhaled smoke away from you. “You look like you came up here to escape, not drink.”

You let out a soft laugh. “Yeah... I just needed air that doesn’t smell like cheap instant ramen and stress sweat. My dorm’s basically a shoebox.”

He smirked faintly, turning more toward you. “I get that. Myself Yoongi.”

“I’m Y/n,” you said, offering your hand.

His grip was warm, steady, calloused fingertips brushing yours a second longer than necessary.

“Nice to meet you, Y/n.” His eyes... sharp but strangely soft, lingered on your face. “So what’s got a new-in-town university student looking like the world ended?”

You hesitated, then shrugged. “I am doing my Masters in Music Theory. Today my music analysis professor tore my paper apart in front of the whole class.”

“He said it was too surface level. I spent days working on it—talking about song structures, rhythms, and how some artists use music to express their inner feelings. But he said I only scratched the surface. That I didn’t really understand the feeling behind the art.”

Yoongi’s eyebrows rose slightly. He flicked ash over the railing. “Music class, huh? What exactly were you writing about?”

You leaned your elbows on the railing beside him, the words spilling out easier than they should with a stranger. “I picked a few underground producers and how they use simple, soft sounds to express feeling alone even when they’re surrounded by millions of people in the city... I thought it was decent. Guess not.”

He was quiet for a moment, studying you. “Most people write about the big names. You went underground. That’s already more interesting than half the shit professors read.”

You glanced at him, surprised. “You know about music?”

A soft, almost amused huff escaped him. “A little.”

Something about the way he said it, made you smile genuinely for the first time all day. “Okay, Mr. ‘A Little.’ What’s your take then? Because I’m clearly missing the soul or whatever.”

Yoongi turned fully toward you now, resting his back against the railing. The city lights painted faint shadows across his face.

“Music isn’t just about the notes or the beat. It’s about the empty spaces between the sounds. Sometimes leaving silence says more than adding more noise. A lot of producers just follow what’s trending. But the really good ones put their real feelings into the track. They make you feel something even when no one is singing.”

You stared at him, caught off guard by the quiet intensity in his voice. “That’s… actually really good. My professor said something similar but made it sound like I was too stupid to get it.”

“Maybe he’s just a bad teacher,” Yoongi said with a small smirk. “Or maybe you were nervous writing it. Happens when you’re drowning in a new city.”

You laughed softly, shaking your head. “God, yes. Everything’s overwhelming. The buses make no sense, my roommate’s never in the dorm except sleep time, and I miss my mom’s cooking so bad I almost cried over convenience store kimbap yesterday.”

He chuckled—a low, warm sound that settled in your chest. “Kimbap hits different when you’re homesick. What’s your favourite dish?”

The conversation flowed so easily it surprised you.

You told him about home, about the pressure of being the first in your family to study abroad, about how music had always been your comfort but now even that felt academic and cold.

Yoongi listened without interrupting, occasionally nodding or adding quiet insights that made you feel seen.

At one point he lit another cigarette, offering you one.

You declined.

“You don’t smoke?” he asked.

“Not really. I came up here to clear my lungs, not fill them.”

“Fair.” He paused, eyes tracing your face more openly now. “You’ve got this look… like you’re carrying the whole damn city on your shoulders already. It’s only been three weeks.”

Your voice softened. “Feels like three months. I don’t know anyone here. I just… keep messing up.”

“You’re not messing up,” he said, quieter. His gaze dropped to your lips for a split second before returning to your eyes. “You’re figuring things out... and adjusting. That takes guts.”

The air between you shifted.

The casual conversation suddenly felt heavier, warmer. You became aware of how close you were standing—barely a foot apart now.

The way his hoodie sleeves were pushed up, revealing pale wrists and delicate veins. The subtle scent of his cologne mixed with cigarette smoke.

“So…” you said, trying to keep your voice steady, “what do you do, Yoongi? Since you seem to know a lot about music.”

He smiled... small, almost secretive. “I make it. Produce, mostly.”

“Oh? That’s cool. Are you any good?” you teased, not catching the weight behind his words.

His eyes darkened with amusement. “Some people think so.”

The charged tension thickened. He stepped a little closer, voice dropping lower. “You really don’t know who I am, do you?”

You shook your head, heart picking up speed. “Should I?”

“No,” he said, almost relieved. “It’s… refreshing. Most people who know me, come at me with expectations.”

The way he looked at you now wasn’t casual anymore. It was slow, deliberate. Like he was seeing you... really seeing you. Your tired eyes, the way your hair moved in the breeze, the nervous way you bit your lip.

“You’re dangerous,” he murmured.

You blinked. “Me?”

“Yeah... You.” He reached up, almost absentmindedly brushing a stray strand of hair behind your ear. His fingers lingered near your jaw. “Talking like this. Looking like that. Making me forget things like I came up here to be alone.”

Your breath caught. The city noise faded further into the background. “And what else are you forgetting right now?”

“That I usually don’t do this.” His thumb grazed your cheek, feather-light. “Don’t talk this long. Don’t want to keep talking.”

Heat pooled low in your stomach. “Then what do you want to do?”

Yoongi’s eyes flicked to your mouth again, darker now. His voice was barely above a whisper, rough around the edges. “I want to know what you sound like when you’re not stressed. When you’re not thinking about papers or buses or homesickness.”

The air felt electric.

You could smell the faint tobacco on his breath, feel the warmth radiating from his body.

“I’m not usually this forward,” you breathed, even as you leaned slightly into his touch.

“Neither am I.” His lips curved into a half-smirk. “But something about you up here, looking like you need someone to pull you out of that head of yours… it’s doing things to me.”

You swallowed. “Yoongi…”

“Tell me to back off and I will,” he said seriously, though his fingers stayed near your face. “But if you don’t… I’d really like to kiss you right now and see if the rest of the night can get better than this conversation.”

The rooftop, the city, the terrible day—all of it narrowed down to the charged space between you two. Your heart hammered as you looked up at him, the mysterious producer who somehow understood exactly what you’d been feeling.

Your voice came out shaky but certain. “Then stop talking and do it.”

He exhaled sharply.

His hand slid properly to your jaw as he leaned in, slow enough for you to change your mind, close enough that you felt his breath mingle with yours.

The first brush of his lips was soft... testing.

Then deeper, hungrier, as you responded. The cigarette scent mixed with something distinctly him, and the kiss tasted like possibility in the middle of your chaotic new life.

When he pulled back just enough to rest his forehead against yours, breathing uneven, he whispered, “Stay a while longer. I’m not ready to let you disappear back into that city yet.”

Then he kissed you again. The kiss deepened instantly.

Yoongi’s hand cupped your jaw more firmly as he tilted his head, sliding his tongue along your bottom lip. You parted for him with a soft sigh, and he took the invitation greedily.

The kiss turned wet, hungry—tongues meeting, tasting, exploring. A low sound rumbled in his chest as he stepped forward, backing you up without breaking the kiss.

Your back met the cool concrete wall in the shadowed corner of the rooftop, tucked behind a tall wooden partition where the string lights barely reached. It was dark enough that no one from the main seating area could see you clearly.

“Fuck,” he breathed against your lips, voice rougher now. “You taste even better than I thought.”

Before you could answer, his mouth was on yours again—deeper, messier. Wet kisses, lips sliding, tongues tangling. He pressed his body against yours, one thigh slipping between your legs. You gasped into his mouth as his hand slid down your side, gripping your waist.

“Yoongi…” you whispered breathlessly when he pulled back just enough to kiss along your jaw.

“Tell me if it’s too much,” he murmured, lips brushing your ear.

“Don’t stop,” you managed, fingers threading into his dark hair.

His mouth claimed yours again.

This time the kiss was filthy... wet sounds filling the small space between you as he sucked on your tongue, then your bottom lip. His hands grew bolder. One stayed at your waist while the other slowly travelled down, slipping under the hem of your skirt.

You shivered as his fingers traced the back of your thigh, moving higher. He teased the edge of your panties, fingertips brushing the lace lightly, making your breath hitch.

“Soft,” he whispered against your neck, placing open-mouthed kisses there. “You’re so fucking soft.”

His fingers continued teasing, stroking along the fabric, pressing just enough to make you squirm against him. You grabbed a fistful of his hoodie, steadying yourself as he leaned in and kissed you again.

His tongue curled against yours while his fingers slipped under the edge of your panties, tracing your skin without going further.

“Shit, you’re getting wet already,” he murmured against your mouth, voice low and dark. “Just from kissing?”

You shivered, cheeks burning. “It’s… been a long day. And you’re really good at this.”

He chuckled softly. His fingers kept teasing, pressing the thumb against your clit, rubbing in lazy circles that made your knees weak.

“Yoongi—ah…” you moaned quietly into his mouth.

He groaned, pressing his hips into you. “Say my name like that again.”

You were just about to when...

Your phone vibrated aggressively in your skirt pocket, cutting through the haze. You pulled back, breathing hard, lips swollen and shiny.

“Shit... shit,” you cursed under your breath, fumbling for your phone. The screen showed “Roommate – Mina” flashing.

You answered, still pinned against the wall with Yoongi’s hand still under your skirt.

“H-Hello?”

“Yah! Where are you?!” Mina’s voice came through, half worried, half scolding. “It’s almost 11:30. The dorm main gate closes in like 35 minutes. You’re always back before me. I thought something happened!”

You closed your eyes, trying to steady your breathing.

Yoongi watched you with dark, amused eyes.

“I’m sorry, I’m out. I’ll be back soon. I just… lost track of time.”

“Lost track of time? You? Miss Always-Early? Who are you and what did you do tto my roommate?” Mina teased. “Just hurry, okay? Warden is extra strict this week. You know she’ll make a huge scene if you’re late.”

“Yeah, I know. I’m leaving now. Thanks for calling.”

You hung up and let out a heavy sigh, leaning your head back against the wall. “Fuck.”

Yoongi slowly pulled his hand from under your skirt, straightening your clothes for you with surprisingly gentle fingers. He took a small step back, giving you space, though his eyes were still dark with want.

“Curfew, huh?” He smirked softly. “Didn’t know I was making out with a responsible university student.”

You laughed breathlessly, fixing your hair. “Very responsible, clearly. I’m so sorry. I have to go. My roommate just reminded me the dorm gate locks soon. If I’m late, the warden will make a huge drama and probably call my parents. I usually get back before her, so she got worried.”

He nodded. “Alright. Don’t get in trouble because of me.”

You quickly fixed your skirt, cheeks flushed. “I’m really sorry. This was… I didn’t expect tonight to go like this at all.”

“Neither did I,” he said, voice low. A small smirk played on his lips. “But I’m not complaining.”

Before you turned to leave, you hesitated. “Wait—can I have your number? You know… in case I need advice on my research paper. About the whole ‘soul in music’ thing my professor said I missed.”

Yoongi’s lips curved into a small, genuine smile. He took your phone from your hand, typed in his number, and saved it under “Yoongi (Rooftop Producer)”.

“Here. Text me anytime. Even if it’s not about music.”

He took your hand, pulled you closer gently, and pressed a soft kiss to your forehead. “Goodnight, Y/n . Get dorm safe.”

“Goodnight,” you whispered, heart still racing.

You started walking toward the exit, legs a little unsteady. But after a few steps, you stopped. Something pulled you back. You turned around and walked quickly to him again.

Yoongi looked confused, tilting his head. “Forget something?”

You didn’t answer with words.

You rose on your tiptoes, and pressed a sweet, quick kiss to his cheek.

“Goodbye, Yoongi,” you said softly against his skin, then pulled back with a shy smile.

You turned and practically ran toward the stairs, skirt fluttering, heart pounding.

Behind you, Yoongi stood frozen, one hand touching the spot on his cheek you’d just kissed. His ears were bright red, a faint blush spreading across his usually composed face.

He let out a quiet, disbelieving laugh and muttered to himself, “…The hell was that? Cute little tease.”

For the first time in a long time, Min Yoongi didn’t know what to do with himself.

A few days later...

In a dimly lit studio at his apartment, Yoongi sat hunched over his mixing desk, headphones around his neck. The soft glow of multiple monitors illuminated his face. He was tweaking a beat when his phone buzzed.

He glanced at the screen.

A new message from an unsaved number.

You: Hey Yoongi, it’s Y/n from the rooftop the other night. Sorry for texting so randomly. I was working on my research paper again and remembered what you said about “soul in the silence.” Do you have any quick thoughts on how producers create emotional depth with minimalism? I don’t want to bother you though.

A small smile tugged at Yoongi’s lips.

Yoongi: I was waiting for you to text.

He watched the typing bubble appear and disappear before your reply came.

You: Really? I wasn’t sure if you’d remember me. Yoongi: Hard to forget someone who kissed my cheek and ran away like that. So… is it just about the paper? Or can we chat regardless? You: We can chat regardless. I’d like that.

Over the next few weeks, the chats flowed easily, turning into something that brightened both your days.

Most evenings, after your classes and his studio sessions, the conversation would start with your paper but quickly drift into everything else.

You told him about your struggles adjusting to Seoul, the chaotic university days, and how much you liked the Suga tracks your professor played in lectures.

You: Today my professor played another Suga track in class as an example of emotional minimalism. The way the piano feels so lonely but powerful at the same time… I don’t know how he does it. I’m still so new to the Korean music scene. I only know a few names my professor mentions. Yoongi: Suga, huh? You like his stuff? You: Yeah! The professor says he’s a genius at producing. He doesn’t always show up in public, right? Always low-profile. Just focuses on the music. I respect that a lot. Makes the art feel more pure. Yoongi: …Yeah. He’s pretty private. Glad you like it though. You: I’m still learning everything. Being new in Seoul is exhausting lol. Today I got lost again trying to find the right subway line. Ended up in the completely wrong area and had to take a taxi back. I miss home so much sometimes. Yoongi: I remember those days. I was the same when I first moved here. You’ll get used to it. Want me to send you a list of good places to eat near your university? Real food, not just convenience store kimbap. You: You’d do that? That would be amazing. I’m surviving on instant ramen too much. Yoongi: Consider it done. Also… how’s the paper going? Still surface level? You: Getting better thanks to you. You explain things in a way my professor never could. You’re really good at this. Yoongi: I’ve been doing it for a while. Happy to help.

Another night, late:

You: It’s 1 AM and I’m still editing this section. I feel like crying. Why is university so hard? Yoongi: Hey, breathe. Send me the paragraph if you want. I’ll read it. You: You sure? You’re probably busy. Yoongi: I’m in the studio but I’ve got time for you. Send it.

You sent the text.

Ten minutes later he replied with thoughtful feedback... gentle but honest, pointing out where the emotion was missing and how to bring it out.

Yoongi: You’re not surface level. You just need to trust your own feelings more when you write. Music is personal. Write like you’re telling me about it on the rooftop that night. You: How are you so sweet? I barely know you but talking to you makes everything feel lighter. Yoongi: You make it easy to be sweet. You’re genuine. That’s rare.

The conversations grew longer and more frequent.

Good morning texts. Late night voice notes from him humming a melody he was working on. You sending him pictures of your messy desk or the rainy view from your dorm window. He would reply with short voice messages in his low, raspy voice that always made your heart flutter.

Then one evening, after almost five weeks of constant texting:

Yoongi: You free this weekend? You: Yeah. Most Probably. Yoongi: Come over to my place. I’ll help you with the paper properly. Better than texting back and forth. I have a proper studio setup here. We can listen to tracks and break them down together. No pressure.

You stared at the message, biting your lip. Your heart raced.

You: Your apartment? Is that okay? Yoongi: Yeah. It’s quiet here. No one will bother us. We can order food, work on your paper, and just… talk like we do. I’d like to see you again. You: I’d like that too. Really. It’s just I keep thinking if I am bothering you more than I should. Yoongi: Don’t be... So, Saturday morning? 10 AM? I’ll send you the address. We can work while the sun’s still gentle, and I’ll make sure you get to your dorm with plenty of time before curfew. You: 10 AM sounds perfect actually. Thank you for offering this. You’ve been such a big help already. Yoongi: I’ve been looking forward to seeing you. Don’t worry about anything. Just bring your laptop and that pretty smile from the rooftop. You: You’re going to make me blush through the phone… See you on Saturday!! Yoongi: Can’t wait, Y/n.

He set his phone down, leaning back in his chair with a soft, genuine smile and something warm and fluttery in his chest that he hadn’t felt in a long time.

In your dorm, you hugged your pillow, grinning at the screen, already thinking about what to wear and feeling both nervous and excited for the weekend.

The connection that started with a charged kiss on a dark rooftop was slowly blooming into something sweet, comforting, and full of quiet affection.

Saturday morning, your eyes fluttered open at 6:15 AM... way earlier than your usual weekend schedule. Sunlight filtered softly through the thin dorm curtains, and for a moment you just lay there, heart already beating a little faster than normal.

Today was the day.

You were going to Yoongi’s apartment.

You sat up, rubbing your face, a mix of nerves and excitement bubbling in your stomach. After brushing your teeth and taking shower, you stood in front of the small closet you shared with Mina, staring at your clothes.

“This is ridiculous,” you muttered to yourself, pulling out a simple cream sweater and black jeans. You tried it on, turned left and right in front of the mirror, then frowned.

“Too casual… I look like I’m going to the library.”

Second outfit — a soft lavender blouse with a light cardigan and a skirt. You checked the mirror again, tilting your head.

“Cute… but maybe too soft? I don’t want to look like I’m trying too hard.”

Third outfit. Fourth. By the fifth change, you were standing in a fitted white t-shirt tucked into high-waisted jeans, with a soft oversized beige cardigan slipping off one shoulder.

You turned slowly, checking every angle.

Mina, who had been pretending to sleep, finally groaned and sat up in her bed, hair messy, squinting at you with one eye open.

“Yahhh… what is going on?” she asked, voice still raspy from sleep. “It’s not even 8 AM on a Saturday. Are you sick? Did the world end?”

You froze mid-twirl, cheeks already warming. “I’m… just getting ready.”

Mina raised an eyebrow, fully awake now.

She propped herself up on her elbows, a mischievous grin spreading across her face. “Getting ready? For what? You never wake up before 11 on weekends. Usually I have to drag you out of bed like a corpse. So who is he?”

You avoided her eyes in the mirror and smoothed down your cardigan again. “No one. I mean… it’s just a study thing.”

“Study thing?” Mina laughed, sitting up fully now and hugging her knees. “With the mysterious rooftop guy? The one who made you come back to the dorm with swollen lips and red cheeks that night? Don’t lie to me, Y/n.”

You turned around, biting your lip. “Okay… fine. Yes. I’m going to his place this morning. He offered to help me with my music research paper. He knows a lot about music.”

Mina’s eyes sparkled with delight.

“Ooooh~ So the mysterious rooftop guy enters again! You only gave me crumbs that night, you know. You came in all flushed and breathless, and when I kept asking, you just mumbled something about ‘a really good make out with a stranger on the rooftop.’ I’ve been dying for details ever since!”

You groaned, covering your face with your hands. “Minaaa, stop. It wasn’t just that… We talked a lot too. He’s really nice. And smart. The way he talks about music… it’s different from my professor. He actually gets it.”

Mina wiggled her eyebrows. “And he’s hot, right? Because your face right now is telling me he’s more than just ‘nice.’ You’ve changed outfits like five times already. I counted.”

“Four… maybe five,” you admitted with a shy laugh, glancing back at the mirror. “I don’t know what to wear. I want to look cute but not like I’m trying too hard. What do you think of this one?”

You did a small spin.

Mina tilted her head, studying you.

“Hmm… It’s good. The cardigan makes you look soft and approachable. But maybe add that little silver necklace you have? The one with the tiny star. It’ll draw attention to your neck… in case he wants to kiss it again,” she teased.

“Yah!” You threw a pillow at her, laughing. “We’re just working on my paper today. Nothing else.”

“Sure, sure,” Mina said sarcastically, catching the pillow. “That’s why you’re up at 8 AM vibrating with excitement. Tell me more about him. You said he’s a producer? Is he famous?”

You sat down on the edge of your bed, fiddling with the hem of your cardigan.

“He’s… I don’t know, lowkey? He doesn’t act like he’s a big deal. We’ve been texting almost every day since that night. He helps me with my paper, listens when I complain about the city, and sends me food recommendations. He even sent me a voice note humming a melody he was working on. His voice is so… deep and calming.”

Mina clutched her chest dramatically. “Oh my god, you’re whipped already. And you made out with him on the rooftop? How was it? Was it hot? Tell me he’s a good kisser at least.”

Your face burned as memories flashed—the dark corner, his hands under your skirt, the wet kisses.

“It was… really good,” you admitted quietly, smiling despite yourself. “Like, really good. Intense. He pinned me against the wall and I completely forgot about everything. Then you called about curfew and I had to run.”

Mina squealed and kicked her legs under the blanket. “I knew it! That’s why you were so red and out of breath when you got back. And now you’re going to his apartment? Alone? On a Saturday morning? Babe, this is not just about the research paper anymore.”

You laughed nervously, standing up to check your reflection one more time. “It’s mostly about the paper… but yeah, I like talking to him. A lot. He makes me feel less alone in this city.”

Mina’s teasing softened into a warm smile. “I’m happy for you. You’ve been so stressed since you got here. Just be careful, okay? And text me when you get there and when you leave. If he turns out to be a weirdo, I’ll come rescue you along with my boyfriend.”

“Thank you,” you said, walking over to hug her quickly. “I will. Wish me luck?”

“Good luck with your ‘paper’,” she said, grinning. “And if you come back with swollen lips again, I want full details this time. No more hiding!”

You grabbed your bag, laptop, and notes, heart fluttering as you headed for the door.

“You are thinking too much. It's just about paper... today. Promise.”

As you left the dorm, Mina called after you, “Yah! Wear the lip tint! The pink one!”

You smiled to yourself the entire way, nerves and excitement mixing together. Saturday morning had never felt this bright.

Around 10:02 AM, you stood outside the modern apartment building, nervously adjusting the strap of your bag. The building looked expensive but understated—exactly the kind of place you imagined someone quiet like Yoongi would live.

After taking a deep breath, you pressed the doorbell for his unit.

The door opened after a few seconds.

Yoongi stood there in a simple black hoodie and grey sweatpants, his dark hair slightly messy like he’d just woken up not too long ago. His eyes softened the moment they landed on you, and a small, genuine smile curved his lips.

“Hey,” he said, voice low and warm. “You made it.”

“Hi,” you replied, suddenly shy. “I’m not late, am I?”

“Not at all. Come in.”

He stepped aside, letting you enter.

His apartment was beautiful... minimal, clean, with large windows letting in soft morning light. The living room had a low couch, a few plants, and records displayed neatly on the wall. But what caught your attention most was the open door leading to his studio.

“Want to see my workspace first?” he asked, noticing your curious gaze.

“Yes, please. I’m really curious.”

He gently guided you inside the studio.

The room was soundproofed, filled with warm lighting. Two large monitors, a massive mixing desk covered with knobs and faders, multiple keyboards, a beautiful vintage piano in the corner, few guitars and shelves full of headphones and equipment.

“Wow…” you whispered, eyes wide. “This is incredible, Yoongi. It feels so… professional.”

He smiled, eyes tender and soft. “It’s my little cave. I spend most of my time here. Sit wherever you want.”

You glanced around at all the instruments, a playful smile tugging at your lips. “Do you actually know how to play all of them, or are they just here for studio aesthetics?”

Yoongi chuckled softly, the sound warm and low as he rubbed the back of his neck. “I love learning new instruments in my free time. It keeps me inspired. I’m definitely good with the piano and guitar though.”

Your eyes landed on one of the acoustic guitars resting on a stand. It looked well-loved, the wood smooth and slightly worn.

“That one’s beautiful,” you said, pointing at it. “Can you tell me about it? And… would you teach me a little? Even just the basics?”

His smile grew, soft and genuinely pleased. “Yeah? Come here.”

He picked up the guitar with practiced ease, settling on the edge of the couch and patting the spot beside him. You sat close as he placed the instrument in his lap.

“This is one of my favorites,” he said, gently strumming a few soft chords that filled the studio with warm, rich sound. “It’s got a nice warm tone, not too bright.” He adjusted your posture a little, guiding your hands. “Here, put your fingers like this for A minor chord.”

For the next few minutes, Yoongi patiently showed you the Open Chords, the easiest for beginners, his voice quiet and focused as he corrected your finger placement and demonstrated how to strum smoothly.

His shoulder brushed yours, and every time you managed a decent sound, his eyes crinkled with quiet pride.

“Not bad,” he murmured, clearly enjoying himself. “You’ve got good hands for it.”

You laughed, a little flustered but happy. “I think I’m mostly just following you.”

He played a short, gentle melody after that... something soft and soothing... his fingers moving effortlessly across the strings while he occasionally glanced at you, explaining what he was doing.

The intimate atmosphere in the studio wrapped around both of you as the music lingered in the air. Eventually, he set the guitar back on its stand and turned to you, eyes warm.

“See? You’re already learning,” he said with a small, affectionate smile. “We can do more of that later if you want.”

You both settled on the comfortable couch in the studio. You pulled out your laptop and notes while he made two cups of coffee and set one in front of you.

For the next thirty minutes, you actually tried to focus on your paper. He leaned close, shoulder brushing yours, pointing at your screen as he explained certain production techniques.

“See here,” he said quietly, his breath warm near your ear. “When you talk about emotional minimalism, it’s not just removing sounds. It’s about creating tension with what you don’t play. Like leaving space for the listener to feel something.”

You nodded, trying to ignore how good he smelled. “That makes so much sense. My professor never explained it like this.”

He smiled, eyes lingering on your face a little longer than necessary. “You’re catching on fast.”

Eventually, the research talk slowed.

Yoongi leaned back, studying you with soft eyes.

“So… tell me something,” he said gently. “Why did you choose to do your Masters in music theory? Most people come for performance or production. What made you pick theory?”

You sipped your coffee, thinking for a moment before answering honestly.

“I’ve always loved music, but I want to understand it deeply. Not just how it sounds, but why it affects us so much. The psychology behind it… how certain chord progressions can make someone cry, or how rhythm can calm anxiety. I want to learn that so I can eventually write my own lyrics and compose them. I’ve tried a few times, but…” you laughed self-consciously, “they’re not very good. They feel childish compared to what I hear in lectures.”

Yoongi’s expression turned incredibly soft.

He shifted closer, his knee brushing against yours.

“I’d love to read them someday,” he said quietly. “If you’re comfortable sharing. I promise I won’t judge. I started the same way — writing really bad lines before I got better.”

“Really?” You looked up at him, surprised. “You’d actually want to read my messy lyrics?”

“Of course.” He reached out and tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, his fingers lingering on your cheek. “I like the way your mind works. The way you talk about music. It’s honest. That’s rare.”

The atmosphere grew warmer, more intimate. You could feel your heart fluttering as he kept looking at you like that.

Yoongi took a slow breath, as if deciding something important. He gently took your hand, playing with your fingers.

“Y/n… there’s something I want to tell you. I’ve been thinking about it for a while. I didn’t want to say it over text. That’s one of the reasons I asked you to come here—face to face.”

You blinked, suddenly a little nervous. “What is it?”

He gave your hand a reassuring squeeze, his thumb stroking your skin.

“I told you I’m a producer. But I didn’t tell you my full name… or my stage name.” He paused, eyes steady on yours. “I’m Suga. The one your professor keeps playing in class. The one you said you really like.”

You stared at him, mouth slightly open. “Wait… you’re Suga? The Suga?”

He nodded, a small, almost shy smile appearing. “Yeah. I produce under that name. I don’t show up publically much—I prefer staying behind the scenes, letting the artists I work with take the spotlight. That’s why you didn’t recognize me.”

“Oh my god…” You let out a breathless laugh, covering your mouth. “All this time I was telling you how much I like Suga’s music… and it was you. Why didn’t you say anything earlier?”

“I didn’t want you to treat me differently,” he said honestly, voice soft. “When you didn’t know who I was on the rooftop, it felt real. You talked to me, not the name. I liked that. A lot.”

He leaned in a little closer, eyes warm and sincere. “But I also didn’t want to keep hiding it from you. These past weeks talking to you… they’ve meant something to me. I want this to be honest.”

Your cheeks flushed deeply. You squeezed his hand back, feeling a rush of warmth in your chest.

“I can’t believe this… I’ve been fangirling over your music in my paper and you’ve been helping me with it the whole time.” You laughed softly. “This feels surreal.”

Yoongi’s smile grew, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “Is it a good surreal?”

“Very good,” you whispered.

He brought your hand up and pressed a gentle kiss to your knuckles, then another to the inside of your wrist, making your heart skip.

“I really like you, Y/n,” he said quietly, voice husky but full of affection. “Not just helping with your paper. Talking to you every day… it’s become my favorite part of the day. I wanted you to know the real me before this goes any further.”

You felt butterflies explode in your stomach. The morning light made his features look even softer, and the way he was looking at you made everything feel warm and safe.

“I like you too, Yoongi,” you admitted, voice barely above a whisper. “Suga or not… I like you.”

He let out a relieved breath and rested his forehead gently against yours for a moment, eyes closed, a fluffy smile playing on his lips.

“Good,” he murmured. “Because I was hoping you’d stay a little longer today. We can work more on your paper… or we can just talk. Or I can make you something quick for breakfast while you tell me more about those lyrics you’re scared to show anyone.”

You laughed softly, your nose brushing his. “I think I’d like all of that.”

A few months had passed since that first studio visit, and your relationship with Yoongi had become the softest, warmest thing in your life.

You and Mina had moved into a small rented apartment near campus at the beginning of next semester.

No more strict dorm curfews.

Both of you were in relationships, and the freedom felt amazing.

Yoongi was still the same quiet, low-profile producer, but with you he was incredibly affectionate—always pulling you into his lap when he was working, leaving sweet kisses on your forehead, cooking for you when you stayed over, and sending you voice notes in his raspy morning voice.

Despite the six-year age gap, things never felt awkward.

The intimacy between you both had grown naturally, and you’d already shared several beautiful, passionate nights at his apartment.

The first time you stayed over at his place, it was your third month of dating. You had come over after a long day at university.

“You didn’t have to cook,” you said, watching him from the kitchen island.

“I wanted to,” he replied softly, chopping the vegetables. “You’ve been working hard on that paper. Let me take care of you tonight.”

He had cooked dinner for you like a proper gentleman — delicious kimchi jjigae, perfectly grilled mackerel, and side dishes he prepared earlier.

You sat at the kitchen counter watching him, heart fluttering the entire time. He set the dishes on plate and placed in front of you.

“You know... you really cook so well,” you said, eyes wide as you took a bite. “I used to think producers only knew how to order takeout.”

Yoongi smirked, sliding more food onto your plate. “I lived alone for too long. Had to learn or I would’ve starved. Eat well, baby.”

After dinner, he worked in his studio for a bit while you kept him company, sitting comfortably in his lap. His arms were wrapped around you as he clicked through tracks, occasionally asking for your opinion.

“You smell nice,” he murmured against your hair at one point, making you smile.

Later, he gave you one of his hoodies to wear. It was big and cozy, reaching mid-thigh on you. You felt adorable in it.

When it was time to sleep, you both stood side by side in the bathroom brushing your teeth. He kept glancing at you in the mirror, eyes soft.

“You look cute with foam on your lips,” he teased, bumping your shoulder gently.

“Yah, focus on brushing!” you laughed, nudging him back.

Once you were both done, he led you to his bed and pulled you into his arms under the soft blankets. He wrapped himself around you from behind, pressing a gentle kiss to your shoulder.

“Let’s just cuddle and sleep, okay?” he whispered softly. “I don’t want you to feel any pressure.”

You nodded at first, but after a few peaceful minutes, your playful side emerged. You slowly intertwined your fingers with his.

Then you turned around slightly and tangled one of your legs with his, rubbing your foot against his calf. Finally, you started tracing his jawline with your fingertip, moving slowly and seductively.

Yoongi’s breath hitched.

“Y/n…” he warned, voice low. “I said let’s just cuddle and sleep. You’re playing a dangerous game right now.”

You bit your lip, still feeling bold.

You traced lower, down to his neck, pressing a tiny kiss there.

He stayed still for a few seconds, clearly trying to control himself. Then suddenly, he moved.

In one smooth motion, he turned you onto your back and hovered above you, hands on either side of your head. His gaze had completely changed... dark, intense, and full of hunger.

You instantly became shy.

The boldness from a minute ago vanished as you looked up at him, cheeks burning.

“W-we should sleep now…” you mumbled, trying to turn your face away.

Yoongi gently caught your chin, turning you back to face him.

His eyes were soft but burning.

“You were so brave just now, teasing me like that,” he said, voice husky. “Tracing my jaw, rubbing your leg against mine… and now you’re getting all shy when I actually do something?”

You covered your face with your hands, embarrassed. “I was just… testing your patience a little.”

He let out a low chuckle, pulling your hands away so he could see your flushed face.

“Testing my patience?” He leaned down, brushing his lips against yours teasingly. “Baby, I’ve been losing my mind for the past ten minutes trying to behave. You have no idea what you do to me.”

He kissed you slowly at first, then deeper, pouring all his restrained desire into it. His body pressed against yours as one of his hands slid under the hoodie, caressing your bare waist.

“You were bold a second ago,” he whispered against your lips, smiling. “Where did that confidence go, hm?”

“It disappeared when you looked at me like that…” you admitted shyly, voice barely above a whisper.

Yoongi’s expression softened with affection even as heat flared in his eyes.

“Cute,” he murmured, kissing the tip of your nose, then your lips again. “Don’t worry. We’ll go slow. But only if you want this tonight.”

“I want it,” you whispered, finally looking into his eyes again. “I want you, Yoongi.”

That was all he needed.

But every once in a while, a different side of him came out.

A much hungrier, filthier side.

And you liked that side even more.

Like that another night, it started innocently enough after dinner at his place. You were both on the couch, full and relaxed, when a simple goodnight kiss turned into a slow, deep make-out session.

His hands roamed lazily under your shirt at first, then suddenly gripped your waist harder.

Before you knew it, he had pulled you onto his lap, kissing you like he was starving.

The kiss grew messier, wetter.

You were grinding against him when he suddenly growled against your lips, flipped you over, and pulled your hips up so you were on all fours on the couch.

“Fuck, look at you,” he had muttered, voice dangerously low.

He yanked your shorts and panties down in one go, positioning you right in front of the full-length mirror leaning against the wall.

You watched through the reflection as he rolled on a condom. His eyes were dark with lust, jaw clenched with restraint. He rubbed the head of his cock slowly between your folds, teasing your entrance, coating himself in your wetness.

“Yoongi…” you whimpered, pushing back against him desperately.

He let out a low, amused chuckle, still rubbing his thick cock up and down your slick folds, deliberately avoiding pushing inside.

“So impatient,” he murmured, voice rough. “Look at yourself in the mirror, baby. Look how wet you are for me.”

You moaned softly, aching and empty, every slow drag of his cock against your clit making you tremble.

He kept teasing... rubbing, pressing just slightly against your entrance, then pulling back, until you were whimpering and gripping the couch.

Only when you whispered a shaky “Please…” he finally gripped your hip with one hand. His other hand slid up your back and wrapped firmly around your throat—not choking, just possessive... tilting your head so you couldn’t look away from the mirror.

Then, with one smooth, deep thrust, he buried himself inside you completely.

You gasped loudly.

Yoongi leaned over your back, lips brushing your ear as he started fucking you hard, his rhythm punishing.

“Look how pretty you look taking me,” he growled, voice rough and filthy. “Eyes on the mirror, baby. Don’t look away.”

That night he was uncharacteristically rough and vocal—whispering the dirtiest things in your ear while making you watch yourself fall apart.

It left you shaky, breathless, and glowing for days afterward.

One lazy morning, you were sitting at the small dining table in your pajamas, at your rented apartment, sipping tea while scrolling through your phone.

Mina walked in, still half-asleep, and smirked the moment she saw you.

“Morning, miss glowing,” she teased, pouring herself coffee. “You stayed at Yoongi’s last weekend, and your face still has that ‘I got properly loved’ look.”

You laughed, cheeks warming. “Shut up.”

Mina grinned mischievously and sat across from you. “So… be honest. You’ve been dating a whole ass producer for months now. Don’t tell me you still haven’t been railed in the studio?”

You choked hard on your tea, coughing as some of it went down the wrong pipe.

“Mina!” you wheezed, eyes wide.

“What?” she said innocently, but her eyes were sparkling.

“I just read this fanfic about studio sex with a producer and now I can’t stop thinking about it. Girl, you’re literally living the fantasy. He has that expensive studio with the fancy couch and dim lights… and you’re telling me nothing has happened there yet?”

You hid your face in your hands, mortified but laughing. “We’ve done it at his place… multiple times. But the studio feels… I don’t know. Too professional? I keep overthinking it. What if he thinks it’s weird?”

Mina rolled her eyes. “Babe. He’s a guy before a producer. Trust me... the moment you walk in there wearing nothing but one of his hoodies, ‘professionalism’ is the last thing he is going to think about.”

You bit your lip, her words sinking in.

That night, it was ovulation week and your hormones were making you bold.

You texted Yoongi that you were coming over.

When you reached his apartment, he greeted you with a soft kiss and went back to work on a track he was finishing. You told him you’d take a quick shower after your long day... something completely normal now after months of dating.

After showering, you stood in front of his closet, heart racing.

You picked out his favorite oversized black hoodie—the one that reached mid-thigh on you, and slipped it on.

Nothing underneath.

No panties. No bra. Just the hoodie.

You walked into the studio barefoot, the hem of the hoodie brushing against your bare skin with every step.

Yoongi was sitting at his mixing desk, headphones half-on, focused on the screen. He glanced up when you entered and smiled warmly.

“Hey, baby,” he said, voice soft. “Shower felt good?”

“Mhm,” you hummed, walking closer. “I stole your hoodie again. Hope you don’t mind.”

“You know I never mind,” he replied, eyes flicking over you affectionately. “You look cute in it. Come here.”

He patted his lap.

You walked over and sat sideways on his thigh like you usually did. His arm wrapped around your waist naturally as he went back to tweaking the track.

For a few minutes, everything felt normal. He played a part of the beat for you, asking for your opinion. You gave feedback while subtly shifting in his lap.

“You okay?” he asked after a while, noticing you seemed a little restless. His hand rubbed your thigh gently. “You’re moving a lot tonight.”

“I’m fine,” you said innocently, leaning back against his chest. “Just like being close to you.”

He kissed the side of your head, completely unaware.

You turned slightly, letting the hoodie ride up a little higher on your thighs as you “adjusted” again. His hand that was resting on your bare thigh stilled.

Yoongi paused the track.

“Wait…” His voice dropped lower.

His fingers slowly traced higher under the hem of the hoodie. The moment they met nothing but warm, smooth skin, his whole body tensed beneath you.

Then he felt it—the unmistakable warm, wet patch slowly forming on the front of his grey sweatpants where your bare core was pressed against him.

“Y/n,” he said slowly, voice suddenly much lower and rougher, almost strained. “Are you… not wearing anything under this?”

You bit your lip, heart racing with excitement and nervousness as you looked at him over your shoulder.

“Maybe…” you teased, voice sweet. “Is that a problem?”

His eyes darkened instantly.

He ran his tongue over his bottom lip, breathing out a soft laugh.

His hand squeezed your thigh tighter as he shifted slightly underneath you, clearly feeling the wetness now soaking through his sweats.

“Fuck, baby…” he groaned softly, eyes darkening. “You’re sitting on my lap with no panties on and you’re already wet? You’ve been dripping on me this whole time?”

His free hand came up to grip your waist, fingers digging in just enough to show his growing restraint.

“You little tease,” he muttered, voice husky with both amusement and arousal. “I thought you just wanted to wear my hoodie like always… but you came in here bare and soaked? How long have you been planning this?”

You smiled shyly, turning more to face him, which only pressed your wetness harder against the growing bulge in his sweats.

“I’ve been thinking about it for a while,” you admitted, running your fingers along the collar of his hoodie. “Mina kept teasing me about how I’m dating a producer and still haven’t done anything in the studio… and guess I got curious.”

Yoongi let out a breathy chuckle, but his eyes were burning now. He slid his hand further under the hoodie, cupping your bare ass as he pulled you closer.

“So you decided to come in here, fresh out of my shower, wearing nothing underneath my hoodie… and sit right on my dick like a good girl?”

He leaned in, lips brushing against your ear as he whispered, “You’re going to ruin my sweats, baby. You feel how wet you are? You’re making a mess all over me.”

You shivered at his words, cheeks burning but loving the way his voice had changed... still soft with affection, but now laced with clear hunger.

“Are you mad?” you asked playfully, even though you could feel him getting harder beneath you.

“Mad?” He laughed lowly, pressing a wet kiss just below your ear. “No. But you’re not leaving this studio anytime soon looking all innocent like this.”

His fingers traced teasing circles on your bare skin, dangerously close but not quite there yet.

“You really want to do this here?” he asked, pulling back just enough to look into your eyes, his gaze flicking between playful and intense. “Because once I start, I’m not going to be gentle with you, baby.”

You smiled, heat pooling between your legs at his words. You reached up and slowly traced his jaw with your fingertip, dragging it seductively down to his neck.

“Good thing I’m ovulating then,” you whispered, voice breathy and teasing. “Gentle is the last thing I want tonight.”

Yoongi’s breath hitched.

He stared at you for a second before letting out a deep, amused chuckle that sounded almost sinful.

“Fuck… you’re going to be the death of me.” He leaned in and bit your bottom lip lightly before pulling back.

“You have no idea how many times I’ve imagined this. Sitting here working late nights, thinking about bending you over this mixing desk… or fucking you against the piano… or having you ride me right in this chair.”

His hands slid under the hoodie, gripping your bare ass as he continued, voice rough, “That’s why I put condoms in every fucking drawer in this apartment now. Kitchen, living room, bedroom… and yes, even in the studio. I can literally fuck you on every surface of this place and I’ve thought about all of them.”

Your eyes widened in surprise, a shy but thrilled laugh escaping you.

“Yoongi!” you gasped, playfully hitting his chest. “You’ve been planning this?”

“Planning? Baby, I’ve been dreaming about it,” he admitted, eyes gleaming. “Now stop teasing and show me how wet you really are.”

He shifted you slightly so you were straddling one of his thighs properly, your bare, soaked pussy pressed directly against the soft fabric of his grey sweatpants.

The warmth of his thigh felt incredible against your sensitive skin.

“Ride it,” he commanded softly, hands guiding your hips. “Ride my thigh and make a mess all over my sweats like the needy little thing you are.”

You moaned softly at his words and started moving.

Slowly at first, grinding your wet folds along the firm muscle of his thigh. The friction was perfect, and the way your slick was already coating his pants made obscene wet sounds with every roll of your hips.

“Fuck… look at you,” Yoongi groaned, eyes locked on where your pussy was sliding against him. “Soaking me already. Such a messy girl.”

He pushed the hoodie up to your neck, exposing your breasts. His hands immediately cupped them, squeezing roughly before his thumbs flicked over your hardened nipples.

“Ah— Yoongi…” you whimpered, grinding harder.

“That’s it, baby. Use my thigh,” he praised, voice low and filthy.

“Look how desperate you are, humping me like you can’t get enough. My pretty little girlfriend came in here with no panties just to get fucked in my studio… so fucking hot.”

He leaned down and took one of your nipples into his mouth, sucking hard while his other hand pinched and rolled the other one.

The mix of rough and wet felt electric.

You cried out, moving faster on his thigh, the wet patch on his sweats growing bigger with every glide.

“Mmm... fuck, you taste so good,” he growled against your breast, sucking harder before pulling off with a wet pop. “These pretty tits are mine. Say it.”

“They’re yours—” you gasped, riding his thigh faster, the pressure building quickly between your legs.

“Louder, baby. Tell me who this wet little pussy belongs to while you ruin my pants.”

“It’s yours, Yoongi... ahh!” you moaned loudly as he bit down gently on your nipple, then soothed it with his tongue.

He leaned back slightly to watch you, one hand still playing with your breasts, pinching and tugging while the other gripped your hip, helping you grind harder.

“You’re so fucking beautiful like this,” he murmured, voice dripping with lust and affection.

“Riding my thigh like a desperate filthy girl but still blushing so cutely. I love this duality in you, baby. My sweet university girl in public… and my filthy little girl in my studio.”

Your breathing grew ragged.

The combination of his filthy words, the rough treatment of your nipples, and the perfect pressure on your clit was pushing you close to the edge.

“I’m... I’m gonna cum—” you whimpered, grinding faster, your wetness now completely soaking through his sweats.

“Cum for me then,” he growled, sucking your nipple into his mouth again, harder this time. “Make a bigger mess on me, baby. I want to feel you dripping down my thigh.”

He pinched your other nipple sharply and that was all it took.

You came hard with a loud cry of his name, your body shaking as waves of pleasure crashed over you. Your hips stuttered against his thigh as you rode out your orgasm, leaving a shiny, wet patch all over his grey sweats.

Yoongi groaned at the sight, finally pulling his mouth off your nipple with a satisfied smirk. He kept rubbing slow circles on your hips as you came down, pressing soft kisses along your collarbone.

“Such a good girl,” he whispered tenderly, the duality hitting you hard again — filthy one second, soft and loving the next. “Look at the mess you made… my dirty little ovulating princess.”

You collapsed against his chest, breathing heavily, a shy smile forming on your lips as you nuzzled into his neck. His hand rubbed slow, soothing circles on your back, but the wicked smirk on his lips told you he wasn’t nearly done.

“I can’t believe I just did that…” you mumbled, embarrassed but glowing.

Yoongi chuckled and kissed the top of your head, wrapping his arms around you. “And we’re just getting started, baby.”

Before you could respond, he lifted you effortlessly and placed you on the edge of his mixing desk. The surface was cool against your bare ass, various knobs and faders pressing into your skin. He pushed the hoodie all the way up to your neck again, fully exposing your body to his hungry gaze.

“Spread your legs for me,” he said softly, voice laced with command.

You obeyed, parting your thighs.

Yoongi stepped between them, eyes dropping to your soaked pussy. He let out a low groan at the sight.

“Fuck… look at this pretty mess,” he whispered, running two fingers through your dripping folds. “You’re still so wet. My greedy girl.”

You shivered at his touch, already sensitive. “Yoongi…”

He leaned in and kissed you deeply, tongue sliding against yours as he slowly pushed two fingers inside you. You gasped into his mouth at the stretch, your walls clenching around his thick digits.

“That’s it,” he breathed against your lips. “Take my fingers, baby.”

He started moving them slowly at first, curling them just right to hit that sweet spot inside you. The wet, obscene sounds of his fingers pumping into your soaked pussy filled the studio.

“Oh my god—” you moaned, gripping his shoulders.

Yoongi pulled back slightly to watch your face, his eyes dark with lust.

“You like that?” he asked, voice husky. “You like getting fingered on my mixing desk like a good girl?”

He picked up the pace, fucking his fingers into you harder while his thumb found your swollen clit and started rubbing tight circles.

“Answer me, baby.”

“Yes— fuck, yes I like it,” you whimpered, hips rolling to meet his hand.

He smirked, clearly pleased. “Good girl. Look at you… sitting on my desk with my hoodie pushed up, legs spread open just for me. So fucking perfect.”

His fingers curled again, pressing firmly against your g-spot with every thrust. The pleasure built rapidly, especially with how sensitive you already were from your previous orgasm.

Yoongi leaned down and took one of your nipples into his mouth again, sucking hard while his fingers kept their relentless rhythm. He released it with a wet pop and looked up at you.

“You’re clenching so tight around my fingers,” he groaned. “You gonna cum again for me already? So soon?”

“I can’t help it—” you gasped, head falling back. “You feel so good…”

He added a third finger, stretching you more as he pumped faster.

His thumb pressed harder on your clit.

“That’s right, baby. Make a mess on my desk too. I want this entire studio to smell like your pussy by the time I’m done with you.”

Your moans grew louder, echoing softly in the soundproofed room. Yoongi watched you intently, his free hand coming up to gently grip your jaw so you’d look at him.

“Eyes on me when you cum,” he ordered, though his voice was still full of affection. “I want to see how pretty you look falling apart on my fingers.”

The combination of his filthy words, the perfect angle of his fingers, and the intense eye contact pushed you over the edge again.

“Yoongi... I’m cumming—!” you cried out.

Your second orgasm hit you even harder.

Your thighs shook as you clenched violently around his fingers, a fresh gush of wetness coating his hand and dripping onto the mixing desk. Yoongi kept fucking you through it, slowing his movements but not stopping, drawing out every wave of pleasure.

“Fuck, that’s my girl,” he praised, voice thick with pride and lust. “Look at you soaking my desk… such a good, messy baby.”

He finally slipped his fingers out of you gently and brought them to his mouth, licking them clean while maintaining eye contact. The sight made your stomach flip.

“You taste even better when you’re ovulating,” he said with a wicked little smile.

You were still panting, legs trembling as you tried to recover. Yoongi stepped closer, wrapping his arms around you and kissing you softly this time—sweet and tender, a sharp contrast to how rough his fingers had just been.

He rested his forehead against yours, brushing your hair back gently.

“You okay, baby?” he asked, voice now soft and caring. “Not too much?”

You shook your head, smiling breathlessly. “No… I want more.”

Yoongi chuckled lowly, kissing the corner of your mouth. “Good. Because I still have so many plans for you tonight.”

Yoongi kissed you deeply for a moment longer, then gently lifted you off the mixing desk. Your legs were still shaky, so he carried you bridal-style over to the large, comfortable black couch in the corner of his studio.

He laid you down carefully on your back, the soft cushions sinking under your weight. The oversized hoodie was still bunched up around your chest. He pulled it down a little to cover your stomach.

“Stay right here, baby,” he said softly, brushing damp strands of hair from your forehead. “You came so hard twice already. Let me take care of you for a while.”

He reached over to the small side table and grabbed a bottle of water, unscrewing the cap before holding it to your lips.

“Drink,” he ordered gently. “You need it.”

You took a few sips, still breathing heavily. Yoongi watched you with soft, loving eyes, his thumb stroking your cheek.

“Good girl,” he praised quietly. “How are you feeling?”

“Really good,” you whispered, smiling up at him. “But little sensitive…”

He chuckled and leaned down to kiss your forehead, then your nose, then your lips.

“You’re doing so well for me tonight. My pretty, needy baby.” He kissed you again, slower this time. “Just relax for a bit. I’m not rushing.”

After a couple of minutes of him gently rubbing your thighs and kissing your neck, your breathing finally evened out. Yoongi’s hand started sliding higher again, teasingly stroking the sensitive skin of your inner thighs.

“Think you can handle more?” he asked, voice low.

You nodded, biting your lip. “Yes… I want you.”

He smirked and moved down your body, settling between your legs on the couch. He spread your thighs wide, exposing your glistening pussy to his hungry gaze.

“Fuck, look at you,” he groaned. “Still so wet and puffy for me.”

Without another word, he leaned in and dragged his tongue slowly up your slit, collecting every drop of your wetness.

The moment your taste hit his tongue, he groaned deeply, like he’d been craving this for days.

He didn’t stop there.

Yoongi buried his face completely between your thighs, drowning himself in your pussy. He pressed his nose against your soaked folds and inhaled deeply, sniffing you with raw hunger before letting out a long, satisfied “Mhhhhmmmm…” that vibrated straight through your core.

The sound was filthy and needy, almost animalistic.

“God, baby… you smell so fucking good,” he growled against your pussy, voice muffled. “Especially when you’re ovulating. So sweet and wet… I could suffocate in this pussy and die happy.”

You whimpered loudly, your fingers tightening in his hair as he dove back in.

“Yoongi—!”

“Mhmm,” he hummed against you, the vibration sending sparks through your body. “You taste so filthy good, baby. Especially when you’re like this.”

He didn’t tease for long.

He ate you like a man possessed—messy, greedy, and completely lost in you.

His tongue licked broad, slow stripes before flicking rapidly over your swollen clit. He sucked your folds into his mouth, then moved back to your clit, alternating between gentle sucks and harsh flicks.

Every few seconds, he’d press his face deeper, nose rubbing against your clit while his tongue pushed inside you, fucking you with it. He kept making those sinful “Mhmmmm… mmmph—” sounds as he devoured you, like your taste was driving him insane.

“Oh my god... Yoongi, that feels so good,” you whimpered, your hands flying to his hair.

He pulled back just enough to speak, lips shiny with your juices.

“Yeah? You like when I eat this pretty pussy?” He licked a long stripe up your folds again. “You get so much wetter when you’re ovulating. I could stay here for hours.”

He pushed two fingers back inside you while his tongue focused on your clit, curling his fingers perfectly against your g-spot. The wet, sloppy sounds of him eating you out filled the studio.

“Fuck... right there,” you cried, hips bucking against his face.

Yoongi groaned in response, the sound vibrating against your core. He sucked harder on your clit and pumped his fingers faster.

“You’re dripping down my chin, baby. Making such a mess on my couch. My dirty little girl.”

Your thighs started shaking around his head. “I’m... I’m gonna cum again... Yoongi please—”

But every time you got close, every time your thighs started trembling and your moans got higher, he would slow down or pull back just a little—edging you cruelly while still burying his face in you.

“Not yet,” he whispered against your soaked folds, placing a soft kiss on your clit. “I want you to fucking throb for me.”

Then he dove back in even harder—sniffing, licking, sucking, and groaning like he couldn’t get enough. His fingers pumped faster while his tongue flicked relentlessly over your clit.

“Mhhhhmm… fuck, I love this,” he groaned, the vibrations making your eyes roll back. “I could eat you for hours like this. My favorite fucking meal.”

Your legs were shaking uncontrollably around his head. You were so close it hurt. “Yoongi, please— I’m so close, please don’t stop...”

He hummed deeply again, the sound vibrating right against your clit as he sucked harder and curled his fingers perfectly.

This time... he didn’t stop.

If anything, he went harder—sucking your clit with wet, obscene noises while his fingers fucked you relentlessly.

“Cum on my tongue, baby. Let me taste you,” he growled against your pussy.

Your third orgasm crashed over you violently.

You cried out his name, thighs clamping around his head as you gushed on his tongue. Yoongi moaned loudly, licking up every drop like it was his favorite thing in the world, not stopping until you were twitching and whimpering from overstimulation.

He finally pulled back, lips and chin glistening.

He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and crawled up your body, kissing you deeply so you could taste yourself on his tongue.

“You’re so fucking perfect,” he whispered against your lips. “I could eat you out all night.”

You were panting, eyes glassy with pleasure. “Yoongi… I need you inside me. Please.”

He kissed you again, softer this time. “You sure, baby? You’ve already come three times.”

“I want you,” you begged, pulling at his hoodie. “I need you to fuck me.”

Yoongi chuckled and reached into the drawer of the side table next to the couch, pulling out a condom.

He quickly pushed down his sweatpants and boxers, his hard cock springing free. He was painfully hard, the tip already leaking. He rolled the condom on while watching your face.

“Come here, baby,” he said, voice thick with need.

He pulled you into his lap so you were straddling him on the couch. He lined himself up and slowly sank you down onto his cock, both of you moaning loudly at the feeling.

“Fuck… so tight,” he groaned, burying his face in your neck. “You feel incredible.”

He gave you a moment to adjust before starting to thrust up into you, hands gripping your ass under the hoodie. The pace was deep and steady at first, but quickly grew rougher.

“Ride me, baby,” he encouraged, voice rough. “Use my cock. This is what you wanted, right? Getting fucked properly in my studio?”

You moaned, rolling your hips as he thrust up to meet you. The sound of skin slapping and your combined moans filled the room.

“Yes— God, yes,” you gasped. “Feels so good, Yoongi…”

He pulled the hoodie off you completely, tossing it aside so he could see all of you. His hands roamed everywhere—squeezing your breasts, pinching your nipples, gripping your waist as he fucked you harder.

“That’s my girl,” he growled, looking up at you with pure lust and affection. “Look at you bouncing on my cock so prettily. My perfect girl.”

He suddenly flipped you onto your back on the couch, pushing your legs back toward your chest and thrusting deep.

“Want to fuck you properly now,” he panted, pounding into you with strong, rhythmic strokes. “Want you to feel every inch.”

You cried out with every thrust, nails digging into his back. He kissed you messily, swallowing your moans while driving into you harder.

“Cum for me one more time, baby,” he whispered hotly against your ear. “Want to feel you squeezing my cock when you cum.”

Between his deep thrusts and filthy praises, you shattered again, clenching hard around him as your fourth orgasm ripped through you.

Yoongi followed right after with a deep groan, burying himself to the hilt as he came hard inside the condom, hips stuttering against yours.

He collapsed on top of you, both of you breathing heavily and covered in sweat. After a moment, he lifted his head and kissed you softly, sweetly—completely different from how he’d just fucked you.

“I love you,” he whispered against your lips, voice gentle. “You’re amazing.”

You smiled tiredly, running your fingers through his damp hair. “I love you too… even if you just ruined me for any other couch.”

Yoongi laughed softly and nuzzled into your neck, still buried inside you. “Good. Because we’re definitely doing this again.”

It was a special alumni event at your university—a panel discussion on “The Future of Music Production in Korea.” The auditorium was packed with students and faculty.

You had come because your professor practically begged the class to attend, saying it would be beneficial for your research paper.

You were sitting near the middle when the three guests walked onto the stage.

Your heart nearly stopped.

There, in a simple black blazer over a white t-shirt, was Yoongi. Standing casually between two other men... RM and J-Hope.

Your eyes widened in complete shock.

No way…

He had mentioned last night that he had a “surprise” for you today, but you never imagined this.

The moment the MC introduced them, the auditorium erupted.

“Suga!!! Oh my god, it’s really him!”

“RM! J-Hope!”

Girls in the front rows started squealing, some even standing up to take photos. You watched in stunned silence as dozens of phones went up, flashing lights everywhere.

Yoongi looked slightly uncomfortable with the attention but gave a small, polite bow along with his friends.

Your professor leaned over from the row behind you. “See? Even Suga rarely comes to these events. This is historic!”

You could only nod, still speechless.

After the panel ended, you received a text from Yoongi.

Yoongi: Meet me behind the old basketball court in 10 minutes... It's the same place I used to hide during my student days.

You slipped out of the auditorium, heart racing, and made your way to the secluded spot behind the basketball court—a quiet, shaded area with an old bench surrounded by tall trees and bushes.

Hardly anyone came here.

Yoongi was already waiting, leaning against a tree. The moment he saw you, his entire face softened into that fond smile you loved so much. Before you could speak, he pulled you into a warm hug, burying his face in your hair.

“You sneaky bastard,” you laughed against his chest, still in disbelief. “You studied here? And you never told me?”

He chuckled, kissing the top of your head. “You were surprised, huh?”

“Surprised?” You laughed against his chest. “Yoongi, I almost had a heart attack! I had no idea you studied here!”

He chuckled, pulling back to look at you. “I graduated six years ago. I’ve been invited every year with Namjoon and Hoseok, but I always said no. This time… I had a reason to come.”

You smiled up at him, feeling warm all over. “Me?”

“You.”

You pulled back slightly and looked up at him, eyes sparkling with mischief.

“So you’re really a big deal, huh?” you teased, poking his chest. “All those girls screaming for you in the auditorium… I almost got jealous.”

Yoongi raised an eyebrow, a playful smile on his lips.

“Does it matter?” he asked softly, cupping your face.

You shook your head, smiling sweetly.

“No… It doesn’t matter at all. I love you, Min Yoongi. Not Suga... the famous producer. I fell for the guy who made me feel seen in foreign city on that rooftop bar, guy who made me coffee at 10 AM and helped me with my surface-level paper.”

His eyes softened with pure affection. He leaned in closer, nose brushing against yours.

“Good answer,” he whispered.

You grinned and continued teasing, voice playful, “But those girls were really going crazy for you back there. Some of them looked ready to climb the stage.”

Yoongi let out a low laugh, his arms tightening around your waist.

“Does that matter too?” he asked, tilting his head.

You pretended to think for a second, then stood on your tiptoes, wrapping your arms around his neck.

“Nope,” you said confidently. “Because even if hundreds of girls go crazy for you… you only go crazy for me.”

Yoongi’s smile turned fond and slightly shy. “You’re damn right about that.”

The air between you shifted.

He leaned in slowly, capturing your lips in a soft, sweet kiss that quickly grew deeper. His hands slid down to your waist, pulling you flush against him as the kiss turned heated. You sighed into his mouth, fingers threading through his hair.

Just as his tongue brushed yours and things were getting very nice—

“Heyyy! Caught you!”

You gasped and suddenly pulled back from the kiss, eyes wide.

J-Hope’s cheerful voice rang out from behind Yoongi.

“Namjoon-ah, I told you we’d find him here! This was always his secret spot back in the day!”

RM’s deep voice followed, sounding amused, “Oh… but he’s not alone.”

Yoongi groaned, closing his eyes for a second before turning around, still keeping one arm around your waist.

J-Hope stood there with a massive grin, while RM looked surprised but clearly entertained, dimples on full display.

J-Hope let out a loud whistle. “Ooooh~ So this is why you finally agreed to come back to campus after avoiding it for years? Interesting…”

Yoongi sighed, ears turning slightly pink. “You two are so annoying.”

You hid your burning face in Yoongi’s shoulder, completely embarrassed at being caught.

Yoongi gently rubbed your back and spoke calmly, “This is Y/n. My girlfriend.”

RM’s eyes widened in pleasant surprise. “Girlfriend? Wow. Nice to meet you, Y/n. I’m Namjoon.”

J-Hope bounced over with a bright smile, offering you a hand. “And I’m Hoseok! But you can call me Hobi. So you’re the mysterious girl who finally dragged this grandpa out of his cave, huh?”

You laughed shyly, shaking both their hands. “It’s really nice to meet you both. I’ve heard a lot about you.”

“Only good things, I hope,” RM said, glancing at Yoongi with a teasing smirk. “Because this hyung barely talks about anything except music… and apparently now you.”

Yoongi rolled his eyes but couldn’t hide his small smile. He kept you tucked protectively against his side.

“She’s the reason I came,” he admitted quietly, looking at you with soft eyes. “She studies here. Post Graduation in Music Theory.”

Hobi’s jaw dropped dramatically. “Wait— she goes to our university?! And you didn’t tell us? This is huge!”

RM chuckled. “Looks like our Yoongi-hyung is properly whipped.”

You giggled, glancing up at Yoongi who was now fully blushing.

“I’m not whipped,” Yoongi muttered, but the way he gently kissed your temple right after completely betrayed him.

Hobi clapped his hands together excitedly. “This is adorable. We need to get dinner together soon! All four of us.”

“Only if you two behave,” Yoongi warned, but there was no real threat in his voice.

You leaned into him, feeling warm and happy as you watched the three friends bicker lightly. Yoongi’s hand found yours, fingers intertwining naturally.

“Alright, that’s enough,” he said, gently tugging you closer. “You two go back. I still have twenty minutes before I need to be anywhere.”

J-Hope winked. “Use your time wisely~”

As the two walked away, still laughing and teasing, Yoongi turned back to you and rested his forehead against yours.

“Sorry about them,” he murmured.

You giggled, wrapping your arms around him. “I like them. And I like that I finally know more about your past.”

He kissed the tip of your nose. “There’s still so much more I want to show you.”

You smiled, heart full. “I can’t wait, Suga sunbaenim.”

Yoongi groaned playfully and pulled you into another sweet kiss.

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