yoongi's glasses make you so horny that he stops working to eat your pussy on his desk, fogs up the lenses and lets you cum all over them... ruining you completely.
PAIRING. bf dom!yoongi x gf sub!femreader
GENRE. established relationship, slice of life, domestic and cozy vibes, romance, smut, fluff
WARNINGS/TAGS. 18+, explicit smut, oral sex (f. receiving), reader gets turned on from his glasses, sexual fantasies, glasses kink, makeout and kisses, cunnilingus, pussy eating, fingering, desk sex, face sitting, cum play and swallowing, multiple orgasms, slight breast and nipple play, tongue fucking, dirty talk and praise kink, overstimulation, slight edging, clit stimulation, ass groping, one spank, grinding on glasses and orgasming onto it, sweet aftercare, they're just so in love w each other
WC. 4.6k
A/N. i had to write this quickly because yoongi with glasses has been driving me crazy 😩 especially after the recent mv! i couldn't stop thinking about him so enjoy reading this, my nasty babes <33
「 MASTERLIST 」
your boyfriend yoongi had been working for several hours on his laptop, finishing his latest track.
he sat on the big chair, all focused on the screen in front of him.
a half finished black coffee beside him that you'd brought him an hour ago.
his posture was relaxed but still in an intensely concentrated manner that always made your heart skip a beat.
he was wearing a hoodie only, his dark hair fell messily over his forehead and every so often he would absentmindedly push his new thin rectangular glasses up the bridge of his nose with his middle finger.
the gesture was so simple yet it made your legs squeeze together.
you had been curled up on the small couch in the corner of his studio for what felt like hours now, he brought that couch especially for you only so he could have you in his space while he works.
he doesn’t like having you away from him for even a second.
there was a forgotten book open on your lap as your eyes kept drifting away from the pages and towards him.
the way the glow from the monitors reflected on his glasses, his brows furrowing in focus which made his already cat like eyes sharper.
it made him look effortlessly authoritative and intelligent, also attractive in a way that made your cheeks turn pink.
he started wearing glasses a few weeks ago and you had openly admitted to him how much the glasses affected you.
“they look really good on you yoongi... like, so sexy.” you had confessed the first night.
he had simply smirked and adjusted them with one finger, no doubt feeling pride at the observation and his girl's approval.
“noted. i'll keep that in mind.”
and he had.
ever since whenever he slipped them on for work, you found it increasingly difficult to focus on anything else.
a need that didn’t go away with every passing minute you spent watching him.
the longer you sat there stealing glances the more your clit throbbed insistently, your nipples hardening under your tank top and you could feel your panties get soaked clinging to your folds.
you don’t like to wear much when you're at home anyways so you're just wearing a tiny black tank top with no bra and panties only.
yoongi preferred you like this.
you shifted on the couch, twirling a strand of your hair and read one single sentence several times in your book.
you’ve been trying to behave but you can't focus on anything else.
finally when you couldn’t hold back any longer, you stood up slowly feeling your stomach flutter from nervousness.
you walked to his desk and stood beside him, yoongi didn’t immediately turn his head away from the screen but you noticed the way he tilted his head and the slight curve of his lips that told you he had been very aware of you the entire time.
“yoongi…”
you called out but your voice came out more breathy than you intended as you took in his clean male scent.
“hmm?”
he responded as his free hand reached out instinctively, fingers brushing along the side of your bare thigh, stroking it making you shiver.
his voice was always so deep that sometimes that was all you needed to hear to get horny.
you could never get enough of his voice.
“what's up baby? you’ve been squirming over there for a while now.”
he was almost amused still typing something on his keyboard as if he could read every single dirty thought running through your mind without even needing to look at you fully.
you swallowed hard as your finger twisted the edge of your panty.
“i… i know you've been working for a while and i can't stop looking at you in those glasses.”
you let out in a rush shyly but don’t admit how crazy it has been driving you as you look at him with half lidded eyes.
a chuckle rumbled out of him as he spun his chair around to face you properly, one of his eyebrows arched.
he scanned your face and then went down taking in the way your curves are right there for him to stare at, barely clothed in anything.
“yeah? you really like them that much huh?”
he never thought you'd get this worked up from watching him work as he leaned back slightly in his chair, spreading his legs a little wider in invitation.
the silver rings on his fingers were visible to you as he rested one hand on his thigh.
“i do… a lot.” you whispered.
biting down on your lower lip as your pussy clenched emptily.
“you look so… dominant like this.”
his gaze darkened noticeably behind his glasses as the word “dominant” left your lips.
“such a good girl for admitting it...” he praised and you let out a shaky breath.
“since you're so distracted by my glasses and can't seem to sit still… maybe i should give you a much closer look and take care of you while i keep my glasses on, you like this idea?”
his other hand adjusted his glasses with that same middle finger push you loved so much and this time he did it almost cockily.
“yes..” you moaned softly.
“come here mama.”
he patted his thigh once with his palm gesturing to where he wants you without words.
you moved between his spread legs without a second thought but instead of simply sitting on his lap, you leaned down first capturing his lips for a quick kiss without being able to help yourself.
he deepens the kiss immediately as his hand comes up to cup the back of your neck, fingers curling into your hair possessively.
you mewled into his mouth as you tasted the coffee he had been sipping earlier along with the unique taste he always has as his tongue brushed against yours, your hands resting on his broad shoulders for balance.
“yoongi... your work—” you started, glancing at the open laptop.
when he finally pulled back just enough to speak, both of your breaths mingling together.
“work can wait a little while.. my baby needs my attention right now which is more important.” he lets out roughly.
he had no heart to ignore that pretty pussy which was calling for him.
he was aware of it.
he picks you up until your feet dangle above the ground making you gasp at the way he always manhandles you effortlessly, his hand between your armpits as he settles you over the very edge of his large desk.
your heart pounded at the feeling of your warm thighs settling over the wooden desk.
papers and a notebook shifted under your weight and the mouse slid a bit as your hip brushed against it but yoongi didn’t seem to care in the slightest.
he rolled his chair forward until he was positioned perfectly between your now spread things.
“spread your legs wider for me sweet girl, let me see you...”
you obeyed, your breathing already coming out faster in anticipation as you watched him hook his fingers into the waistband of your panties and slowly drag them down your legs before he tossed them carelessly aside onto the floor somewhere beside him.
“mmph.”
you let out a whimper as the studio air hits your now exposed cunt, your glistening folds visible to him.
“look at this pretty pussy.”
he murmured reverently with appreciation as he leaned in closer, his hot breath fanning over your mound making you pant in excitement.
“so fucking wet and swollen for me... you're dripping all over my desk already and i haven't even touched you properly mm?”
his filthy words made your cheeks turn redder as you nodded, unable to deny how desperately aroused you felt.
“yes... it's all because of you and those glasses.” you croaked out shamelessly.
no longer having the restraint to keep your feelings hidden.
“i've been aching for hours.”
a coy look takes place in his face as he starts leaving open mouthed kisses along your inner thigh, each one making your skin tingle also leaving remnants of his saliva as you writhe.
his free hand rested on your other thigh thumb rubbing teasing circles that inched ever closer to your center without quite reaching it while he kept his eyes on you, a grin on his lips from your reaction.
when his mouth hovered directly over your twitching clit that was so engorged it had escaped from its hood, he paused there just letting his breath brush against it.
knowing it makes you a little mad.
he could never get enough of having you in this state and all open for him so he always takes his time, having the privilege of being your man which he can never fully believe.
he's always thankful for having you so he never misses any opportunity to worship you.
“yoongi... please don't tease me too much.”
you begged as your hands gripped the edge of the desk tightly.
“shh i got you baby. i'm gonna take my time with this little pussy because you deserve it.”
he whispered against you and then without further warning, his tongue which has always been incredibly skilled since the beginning of your relationship like it has a mind of its own, knew how to move in the exact way to please you.
it knew you better than yourself.
he dragged a long stripe from your dripping entrance all the way up to your throbbing clit.
“uh—ahh fuck yoongi... that feels so good.” you cried out.
your head tilts back with parted lips and he hums in approval which travels straight to your core making your walls flutter around nothing.
“mhmm you taste so fucking perfect baby... so ready for my mouth always.”
he can never get enough of the amount of honey you produce for him, he holds your plump folds apart to see more dribbles of your creamy mess leaking one by one.
“shitt.” he cursed in a dreamy sign from the way your pussy responds to him.
his tongue explored every inch of you slowly, circling your clit with quick flicks and then capturing the bud between his lips before releasing it with a wet pop and flicking it with his tongue and then sucking again.
“oh god..” you whined.
he can probably spend an entire day playing with your clit with his tongue and fingers like it's a little button.
one of his hands slid upwards under your flimsy top to cup a breast and roll the hardened nipple between his fingers with just enough pressure to double the sensations for you.
“mm... ah...”
your moans grew louder not being able to stop yourself as one of your hands fisted his hair while your legs kept his head trapped between your thighs.
“keep making those pretty noises for me… yeah… let me hear exactly how much you love my tongue on you.”
your body responds automatically as your hips rock subtly against his face.
“uh… uh… uh… yoongi your tongue feels—”
your words get interrupted with a sequel as another particularly skillful flick of his tongue lands on your clit making your back arch almost entirely off the table.
he looks up at you never stopping his mouth, drinking in your expressions as the wet noises and your whimpers of satisfaction fill the room obscenely.
it was so erotic.
and suddenly everything felt hot from the way both of you started sweating.
yoongi continued focusing on your clit using the pointed top of his tongue for a more targeted stimulation, knowing how much you love it.
like the perfectionist he was, he changed his motions based on your reactions.
you fisted one of his work sheets, unknowingly crumbling it which he didn't mind because he started eating you out even faster.
his fingers eventually joined the assault too, two digits probing your slit circling the slick opening before finally pushing inside your tight cunt in one thrust and you were so wet that he slipped even deeper on his own.
“ohh!”
you let out a surprised sob at the sudden stretch even though he's fingered you over a hundred times now but still now the feeling of his long fingers took your breath away.
his fingers immediately curled in that spongy spot deep inside you.
“fuuuuck yess right there! gosh yoongi, your fingers… it feels s-so good!”
you cried out loudly which sounded so much louder in the room as your pussy clenched on him once again.
the combination of his tongue on your clit and the way he keeps on pumping his fingers in and out of you has you murmuring nonsense into your hand.
you gripped the table so hard, your knuckles turned white.
sclick. sclick. sclick.
your pussy makes pornographic noises from the amount of arousal you keep on making and it is coating his hand now too, also dripping on the desk beneath you.
he groaned against your pussy, pulling away for a bit to talk but still with his mouth pressed against your labia.
“that's my good girl… so tight and greedy..”
a quiet overwhelmed scream left you when he added a third finger stretching you to your limits, increasing the pace just enough to push you to the edge without letting you tip over yet.
his glasses were starting to fog up from the heat and his own labored breaths.
the sight of it only heightened the moment for you.
“yoongi your glasses… they're getting all foggy from me.”
you panted between desperate moans as you watched him continue devouring you.
“ugh i can'tt.”
you whined as he kept on thrusting, scissoring his fingers while rubbing that soft spot deep inside your pussy like he's inspecting you on the inside.
he lifted his gaze to meet yours and you could see the lust in his eyes even though they were partially hidden behind the clouded lenses.
“yeah that's good isn't it? means i'm eating this pussy exactly right. you like seeing me like this? all foggy because of how wet and hot you are for me?”
he encourages you further with his murmurs against you as his fingers curl harder and faster now, directly sucking onto your clit as if he wants something to come out of it.
you couldn't take it anymore.
you were losing your mind.
from his words, every thrust, every suck, from his whole presence alone.
“i'm so close ahh please don't stop yoongi! i'm gonna cum so hard..”
tears welled in your eyes as your entire body tensed with the impending release.
“not yet mama. hold it just a little longer for me.”
he growled against your folds, slowing his movements for a few seconds to keep you teetering right on the edge and to keep you crying for a bit more.
then he sped up again relentlessly, three fingers thrusting deep and fast while also using his nose to grind up straight between your folds.
that's it. it happened like that.
your whole body seized and shook as the orgasm crashed over you and you crumble more of his papers on the desk and even making some files fall but you were too deep in it to notice.
“yoongi shitt i'm—i'm cumming! ahhuh yes yes oh god!” you let out a choked scream.
your cunt clenched around his fingers, fluttering weakly as gushes dripped down his hand and messily pooled on his desk.
your moans turned into cries as you clamped his head tighter between your legs and you tried to stop yourself, scared that you'd suffocate him but he grunted lowly holding you closer, which signaled how much he loved to be crushed by you.
he kept on licking and fingering slowly through the aftershocks until you were pushing his head away while letting out murmurs dumbly.
when the peak finally began to ebb leaving you breathing heavily, did yoongi slowly withdraw his fingers.
a snarl escaping him as he sat back in his chair with his chest heaving.
he held the glossy fingers up proudly and he sucked them clean while looking at you with hooded eyes, his tongue working around as you whimpered.
his glasses were completely fogged up now.
the only thing that was missing was his glasses soaked with your essence… it was one of your dirty fantasies.
and you wanted to do it.
even though you felt boneless from cumming as your body twitches with renewed interest.
you looked down at him through your post orgasmic haziness, still trying to catch your breath.
“yoongi...” you cooed almost.
“can i… can i cum on your glasses this time? i wanna rub myself all over them and make an even bigger mess… please.” you breathe out.
even in your ears, it sounded so naughty.
his eyes widened for a bit before a slow smirk took place on his lips, his tongue coming out to lick at his bottom lip slowly where there were still remnants of your release.
he pushed his chair back slightly to give you space as he gripped your thighs.
“you want that baby?”
you nod eagerly with flushed cheeks.
“please...”
he lets out a hoarse laugh, closing his eyes for a bit before fixing it on your face.
“god what am i supposed to do with this dirty girl huh?” he says so adoringly that it makes you feel giddy on the inside.
“come here then use my glasses however you want. soak me, grind your cum all over the lenses... whatever you want mama.”
he helped you slide off the desk on still shaky legs and straddle his lap.
your breasts rises and falls at his words and the way he always treats all your needs as if they were his own, always exploring whatever the other wants with no judgment.
because both of you were just as filthy and downbad for each other.
that's why people say you both just fit so well.
you shuddered when your sensitive pussy hovered just above his obvious bulge that held his rock hard cock.
but he was so focused on you and making you feel good to even notice that.
instead of making you sink down on him, he placed an arm under your butt and picked you up making your legs wrap around his waist as he carried you to the couch before he settled down on it first.
he tilts his head back just enough, holding your hips steady as he looks up at you expectantly.
“go on pretty baby, rub that slutty pussy right on my glasses… mm i wanna feel every bit of it.”
the command makes your legs squeeze together as you look down at him with parted lips, your hair framing your face.
he crooks a finger in your direction so you'd come and sit right on his face.
“don't make me ask twice y/n.”
you shivered at him calling your name, he only does that when he is in his serious and strict mood.
it always makes you weak in the knees.
you didn't waste time and lowered yourself carefully until your slick folds made direct contact with his glasses.
the glass against your already overheated clit created an entirely new and different feeling.
“oh... gosh gahh yoongi... it feels weird… but so good.”
you moaned sharply, your legs settling firmly on either side of his face as he gripped your ass cheeks parting them for better access.
your hips begin to rock on their own experimentally smearing your arousal across his frame, making the glasses even more opaque as your release began to run down the sides.
he gave your ass a firm squeeze as he watched you with feral eyes.
“that's it… just like that… you're doing so well… does it feel good having my lenses rubbing against your clit hmm?”
he asked with genuine curiosity as your whines grew louder and more shakier, even you couldn't fathom that you could make such wanton noises.
“yess nghh... i-it feels amazing… knowing it's your glasses makes it so much better uh...”
he lets out an animal growl at your words, another one of his favorite things during moments of intimacy is your honesty.
your hips shuddered because you're already sensitive from the orgasm you had just a few minutes ago so it made you a little weak as your hands dug into his chest grabbing the fabric of his hoodie.
he kneaded your ass and landed a sharp spank, making you sob as he helped guide your movements up and down when he realized you're slowing down.
it was so lewd.
like you're nothing but just a sex doll and you're releasing so much liquid that it didn't take much effort, too, you were slippery enough to glide all over his glasses.
you were swimming in pleasure.
you selfishly wanted more and everything all at once.
“more… more… please more…”
“keep going mama... cum whenever you want to… make a fucking mess.” he urged.
he whispers praises for you as your tongue lolls out in ecstasy, sweat forming on your forehead as he rubs your back soothingly while your clit is getting all the unique frictions from the edge of his glass.
it felt too much like you wanted to escape from it, yet want more and more.
you yelped as you saw a bit of your arousal land on his eyelid.
“oh no! i'm sorry i'll—”
he stilled you with one hard grip on your waist as he glared up at you.
“don't you dare stop, it doesn't matter… you're not stopping.” he rasps out.
a tear streams down your face in pleasure when his tongue comes out to catch a droplet of you.
“b-but i don't want you getting hurt.. it's going to get inside your eyes.”
“continue.”
that's all he said, just that single word in his strict voice.
you knew he wasn't going to listen otherwise so your hips moved on their own.
you let out breathless cries as he guided you to move faster, your hips quivering so much you thought they'd give out.
“i can't i can't, oh god oh god, fuckk going to, going to cum.. c-cum—!” you hiccuped.
“do it, cum hard for me… come on.”
he demanded as his tongue lapped up at you in the most delicious way.
the second orgasm hits you suddenly that you had to grip the couch to steady yourself as spurts and spurts of your essence left you, hitting him all over the face.
you felt so guilty, but you couldn't stop yourself as it soaked his lips and glasses and all over.
“ohhhhhhhhhhhhhh—!”
you cried out repeatedly, hips grinding through the climax until your body had no more energy and he guided you slowly until your forehead rested against his.
both of you breathing heavily.
after several long moments of shared breathing, yoongi removed the thoroughly ruined glasses from his face which were completely glistening with cum.
thoroughly ruined and marked.
now that the high has left you, you let out a mortified whimper at how nasty you've been and hide your face on his chest making him chuckle lowly.
he sets them aside and wraps both of his arms around you, pulling you closer into his chest.
“damn baby... you really did a number on them didn't you?”
he rubbed loving patterns on your back and you laughed breathlessly, still riding the feeling from multiple orgasms.
“sorry... not sorry.”
you got carried away and you knew it but couldn't help it.
it isn't your fault that he was so hot.
he nuzzled his face on your neck planting kisses along your cheeks and throat as you did the same to him, tasting your own release there even though he didn't attempt to wipe you off him.
he liked having you get him all messy on him.
he titled your chin up with his finger to capture your lips in a slow kiss that allowed you to taste yourself more intimately as you both groan together from it.
your hearts beating hard together and so damn connected.
“don't ever apologize for getting needy like that for me, i love it when you lose control because of something as simple as my glasses you got it?”
he looks straight into your eyes so he makes sure you're getting each of his words.
“it means i'm doing my job right.”
he grumbles against your mouth and you let out a happy sound.
he never fails to make you feel so adored and desired.
after a few more minutes of just cuddling and talking about silly stuff basking in each other and the smell of sex, did yoongi's attention finally land on the laptop screen that was still glowing with the work he had to eventually return to.
even though he'd love to spend time with you instead, take you to bed and fuck you right up and he was aching inside his jeans.
he wanted to give you a taste of your own medicine and make you wait.
making you impatient always brings out the best outcome and he also wanted to finish all his work before he could concentrate on you fully.
after a while he helped you off his lap making you pout but it soon melts away when he helps you put on the fluffy pink blanket over your legs after wiping you clean gently with tissues and even his face in the process.
your panties were too ruined for you to wear them again and he wanted you bare underneath.
he adjusted your top so you felt comfortable again, he then picked you up with the blanket wrapped around you like a roll of burrito and settled you over his lap on the chair.
he didn't want you away from him.
he gave you that lazy knowing smile, pressing a soft kiss on your forehead.
“think i can get back to work now? or are you gonna distract me again?”
he teased, thumbing your cheek while his other hand moved for the mouse.
“hmm... depends.”
you pretend to think as you settle against his chest with a contented sigh, feeling all comfy with him.
“maybe... but no promises after i clean those glasses for you to wear them again… i might need another closer look later.” you say cheekily.
he laughs hoarsely and shakes his head.
“such a brat huh? but i wouldn't have you any other way.”
the rest of the afternoon went on like that with your eyes half open, focusing on his work that you barely understood while he gave you touches occasionally.
sometimes leaning down to kiss any part of your exposed skin until you almost purred like a kitten being petted.
this was what he lived for.
you all wrapped in him while he did his tasks, just happy to have you there and he couldn't be anywhere else in the world.
he was the luckiest man alive.
“i love you lot baby, you know that?”
you let out a small breath and cupped his cheek, placing a kiss on his nose making his eyes close with a smile.
“i know… but i love you more.”
he opened his eyes with a mocking glare.
“impossible.”
his hand brushed on the ticklish side of your stomach, making you giggle and squirm.
and you knew in your heart without any of his words spoken because his eyes spoke.
promising that the night was far from over.
that he was gonna give you all the attention you want afterward.
ᯓ★ SOMETHING ABOUT HIM IS MADE FOR SOMEBODY LIKE ME
genre. smut, one-shot [completed]
pairing. non-idol!bangtan, producer!yoongi x y/n, bestfriend’s sister to lovers
warnings. cussing, 4 years age gap, high sex-drive, under the influence of aphrodisiac, unprotected consensual sex.
word count. 10k
summary. Your brother, Namjoon, loves you far too much to leave you alone after your stupid ex-boyfriend dumped you. Determined to cheer you up, he insists on bringing you along as his plus one to his best friend—Seokjin, bachelor’s party. Growing up around his friends your entire life, neither you nor the rest of them find it strange—it’s simply the way things have always been.
When Seokjin books the hotel rooms for the trip, an unfortunate oversight occurs. A hotel staff misses the reservation for your room due to a system glitch, resulting in a double booking—and by the middle of the night, you’re left without a place to sleep.
With everyone else on the trip far too drunk and wasted to help solve the problem, you have little choice but to share a room with Yoongi—your brother’s closest best friend and, unfortunately, your long-time crush.
Everything was fine until you ate something you definitely shouldn’t have.
author's note. i woke up one morning having this concept in mind. the boy is mine by ariana grande is on repeat the entire time im writing this piece. i think it's fun and fitted to publish for yoongi's birthday. a little late but still a sweet treat for everyone! 𖹭
dedicating this to my forever starboy, yoongi ★
You carefully open the trunk of the black SUV parked in front of your house while Jungkook, your best friend, helps you with your luggage that seemed heavy enough to be carrying a dead body.
Used to how he likes to run his mouth when it comes to you, you completely ignore his sharp antics as he rearranges the pile of suitcases like Tetris blocks, making sure nothing will topple over during the trip.
“The hell shit are you carrying for a three-day beach trip?” Jungkook asked, catching his breath as he closed the trunk.
In your mind, you’re convinced it’s still too early to start bickering over nonsense, so you just simply raised your hand in the air for a high five, which he immediately accepted—a gesture that no matter what the situation is, you know by heart that Jungkook will never turn down.
As you walk toward the other car where your brother was in, Jungkook begins complaining again. Saying it’s unfair that your ridiculously heavy suitcase is riding in his brother’s car while you get to travel in Seokjin’s car with your brother.
The next thing you knew, he was already dragging you with him.
Jungkook has been your best friend for almost fifteen years now. He is the same age as you, and the two of you attended the same middle school, high school, and even the same college.
He is the younger half-brother of your brother’s best friend of more than fifteen years, Yoongi. Since both of your brothers are simply inseparable, the two of you are basically forced to hang out with each other when you’re young and you’ve been best friends since.
You and Jungkook may seem to squabble and banter all the time, but it’s just the way your friendship works. The level of your closeness can be compared to siblings.
People are always surprised when they’re finding out that the two of you are just friends. They’re always insisting that you would make the perfect couple since you’re about the same age and very close.
But the thought of being in a romantic relationship with Jungkook makes your skin crawl for two main reasons.
First, Jungkook is a known fuckboy who enjoys casual relationships with different girls, sometimes at once and seems almost allergic to anything serious or stable.
Second—and more importantly—you have secret romantic feelings for his brother, who is four years older than you. You’ve liked him since high school, and unfortunately for you, Jungkook knows about it. The only reason he keeps his mouth shut is because you threaten to cut ties with him the moment he tells anyone—especially his brother.
“Ready to go?” Yoongi asked from the driver’s seat before starting the car, following the silver SUV in front that belongs to Seokjin when all of you in the car hummed in response.
Hoseok, your older cousin—who is also part of your brother’s circle—sits in the passenger seat, while you and Jungkook occupy the back.
Hoseok starts a conversation over your recent breakup and tries to offer you some comfort while still keeping things light after hearing that your boyfriend of six months—now your ex-boyfriend—dumps you because he wants to “find himself.”
“I’m fine. It’s a good-riddance type of breakup, really. I don’t have enough energy to coddle his insecurities all the time—and I love pink way too much to be the man in the relationship,” you murmured, uninterested in the topic.
Everything you say is true.
The only thing hurting right now is your ego. This is the first time you’ve ever been dumped in your 26 years of existence. Not to be smug but you’re always used to guys doting over you.
You met your ex-boyfriend at the coffee shop across from your office. He happens to work around the same area. At first, you find him charming and cute—and he feels the same about you. That’s how the relationship started.
But eventually, you realized he is incredibly insecure. He constantly projects his lack of confidence onto you and always assumes you’re flirting with your coworkers behind his back. The only reason you lasted six months with him is because the sex was good.
As someone with absolutely zero patience for childish and immature behavior, it’s hard for you to understand where his insecurities are coming from. Thankfully, he ended things before you did.
Meanwhile, everyone around you—especially your brother Namjoon—is convinced you’re secretly depressed because of the breakup. That is also the reason why you’re currently in this car, following the SUV ahead carrying Seokjin, your brother, Seokjin’s brother Taehyung, and his best friend Jimin.
This three-day trip is supposed to be a celebration—Seokjin’s bachelor party.
He is a year older than Yoongi and older than the rest of the guys. With the wedding happening next week, and after more than fifteen years of friendship, it’s only natural that your brother and his friends are all part of this trip.
“Besides, me and your brother never really liked your ex-boyfriend, Y/N,” Hoseok confessed, still trying to keep the conversation going.
“Yeah, me too. He’s weird,” Jungkook agrees from beside you, barely looking up from his phone. “I told you to stop dating guys your age.”
That comment immediately sparks curiosity from the two older guys sitting in front.
“You like younger ones?” Hoseok gasped a little over dramatic, turning slightly in his seat to look back at you.
“No—”
“She likes OLDER,” Jungkook cuts in before you can reason out for yourself, emphasizing the word, older.
You tugged his hair in annoyance, making him hiss in pain. Shooting you a glare while rubbing the spot you pulled.
Your eyes unknowingly drift toward the rearview mirror—and that’s when you catch Yoongi’s gaze on you.
He glances at the mirror, meeting your eyes for a brief second before looking back at the road. The eye contact is quick, but it still makes your cheeks warm.
“Really? I didn’t know that,” Hoseok replied, amused with your preferences in guys.
“That’s because I don’t tell anyone.”
“About how old?”
“Umm… maybe four or five years, ah yes around that age gap” you answered your cousin as innocently as possible making sure to let Yoongi hear.
And you swear to God—you see the faintest smirk tug at Yoongi’s lips as you answer.
His subtle reaction sends a strange wave of nervous energy through your body, making you involuntarily press your thighs together as a jittery feeling settles deep in your stomach.
The car ride took almost three hours. You and Jungkook are drifting in and out of sleep in the back seat while the two older guys in front talk about random things the entire time.
Once the car is finally parked, Jungkook and Hoseok immediately start unloading the luggage, handing each suitcase over to its rightful owner. After making sure everything is out of the trunk and the car is safely locked, the group begins walking toward the resort and hotel Seokjin has booked.
While checking in, you keep bugging Jungkook about how hungry you are—and how ridiculously heavy your suitcase is—suggesting he should carry yours, earning several death glares from him.
Jimin and Taehyung soon joined the two of you while the older guys stayed behind to settle everything at the front desk.
Just like with Jungkook, you are completely comfortable with Jimin and Taehyung. They are both a year older than you. Taehyung is Seokjin’s younger brother, while Jimin is his best friend.
Back in high school, Jimin and Jungkook are both part of the dance club, and later he attends the same college as the two of you. He even shares a few classes with Jungkook, which makes your group naturally close and easy with each other.
Once checked in, everyone is sent to their assigned rooms. Seokjin makes sure to book them all on the same floor.
Namjoon and Hoseok share a room.
Jungkook and Yoongi share another.
Jimin and Taehyung are assigned their shared room as well.
Meanwhile, you and Seokjin each get separate rooms since you don’t have company with you.
Having a suite by yourself excites you, but there is one small issue—it’s a little farther away from the rest of the guys. While their suites are clustered together, yours sits at the far corner after turning left into a quieter hallway.
Before everyone part ways, Seokjin reminds the group that the yacht party will start at twelve, which also means lunch will be served there.
His friends really go all out for his bachelor’s party, renting a yacht for twelve hours starting at noon just for him.
You honestly have no idea what to expect. It’s your first time attending a bachelor’s party, after all.
Still, you convince yourself that nothing too inappropriate will happen, considering the people involved. Even though you are well aware that your brother’s friends are far from saints, you are also confident they’re not reckless either.
While getting ready for the yacht party, your hair dryer suddenly stopped working in the middle of styling your hair. Your suite has a built-in one but it’s the traditional hair blower that uses heat—yours is the heatless one, to prevent further damage on your ginger-colored hair that you’ve been maintaining for months now.
Annoyed, you grab your phone from the sink counter and text Jungkook, remembering that he uses the same one as yours.
You leave your room, dragging your half-open suitcase along the carpeted hallway on the way to Jungkook and Yoongi’s. Thankfully, you haven’t unpacked your suitcase yet, which makes it easier to bring the whole thing with you since you’re not even halfway done getting ready.
When Yoongi opens the door after you knock, the first thing you notice is his frowning face as he takes in the sight of you standing there in nothing but a bathrobe, hauling your huge suitcase.
“Uh… Jungkook’s there?” you asked when he doesn’t immediately let you in.
Without a word, Yoongi steps aside to give you space, and you walk in like you own the place. Meanwhile, before closing the door, he briefly looks down the hallway to make sure you aren’t being followed by anyone who might have seen you wandering around in just a bathrobe. Luckily, the corridor is empty.
As expected, Jungkook immediately starts bitching about you dragging your whole suitcase in their room. You just ignored him after reasoning out that it’s simply more convenient to finish getting ready in their suite instead of drying your hair here and then walking all the way back to your place afterward.
With three people sharing one bathroom, the process takes longer than expected. The delay eventually causes Seokjin to call Yoongi, asking where the hell everyone is.
As you fastened the large ivory ribbon around your half-ponytail, the two brothers kept calling your name relentlessly from outside the bathroom.
You stepped out with an annoyed expression, irritated at being rushed when you weren’t even fully satisfied with your appearance.
The moment you emerge from the bathroom, both men fall completely silent, eyes wandering on your fit.
You’re wearing an off-white ruffled bralette top with thin straps that hug your perfectly shaped breasts snugly, creating a soft cleavage. Paired with it is a long, flowy, tiered skirt in the same color, made of multiple soft ruffled layers that move gently as you walk. Underneath, you’re wearing plain white bikini bottoms in case you decide to swim later.
It’s moments like this that makes Jungkook wish he isn’t your best friend because you are completely his type and he will definitely hit on you.
If you weren’t always so open about how you feel absolutely nothing romantic toward him, he would probably risk everything just to get you into bed with him.
Meanwhile, Yoongi, even without an obvious reaction showing, couldn’t take his eyes off you.
Lunch is served on the yacht before the party officially begins. After eating, you hang out with the younglings—Jungkook, Jimin, and Taehyung on the lower deck while they roughhouse with each other like a bunch of overgrown kids.
A few hours after lunch, Seokjin’s bachelor party finally kicks off.
You’re a little surprised when a group of pretty ladies—dressed sexy but still appropriate—board the yacht just before it sails out to the open sea.
You soon learn that they are your brother’s present for Seokjin. They’re entertainers hired to keep the bachelor and his friends company.
It doesn’t take long for the yacht to be filled with loud music, laughter, and the chaotic energy of a group of men with raging hormones. Alcohol flows freely, and everyone is paired up with a pretty girl as a company.
You managed to slip away and choose to settle on the higher part of the deck alone, watching the party unfold below you like a scene from a movie.
Jungkook, Jimin, and Taehyung are long gone the moment the party started. They abandoned you without hesitation in exchange for the full bachelor-party experience. You cannot blame the guys and their hormones though.
You pulled out your phone and secretly recorded a video of Jungkook with a girl sitting comfortably on his lap while he flirts with her in a semi-drunken, delirious way. You make a mental note to use the video against him for later.
Your eyes eventually land on a familiar figure lingering near the edge of the lower deck.
Yoongi.
He stands quietly as he watches his friends party like crazy, slowly sipping his whiskey on the rocks.
You watch as he lazily twirls the glass in his hand, allowing the ice to melt just enough before taking another sip. There’s something about him that makes your breath hitch, the kind of presence that leaves you helplessly captivated by him and to every little thing he does.
A brunette, honey-skinned girl with stunning proportions stands nearby, keeping him company. They talk at a polite distance from each other, and every now and then you see Yoongi chuckle, wondering what could it be that she said to make him respond like that.
What really amuses you, though, is the complete lack of physical contact between them. In the middle of a bachelor party filled with flirting, drinking, and chaos, Yoongi looks like the most respectful man on the entire boat. The awkward sight between him and his companion makes you giggle by yourself.
You know Yoongi is stern with his boundaries, he isn’t fond of people in his space. During the time that he’s in a relationship with someone, his PDA is only limited to holding hands and grabbing waist.
But that alone isn’t enough to make you question his demeanor in bed, especially since you remember one of his ex-girlfriends drunkenly sharing intimate details about their time together with Yoongi to both you and Jungkook, making you want to experience it on your own.
Growing up, you watch Yoongi grow up too. For fifteen years, he and your brother are practically inseparable, which means you see him almost every day as well.
Over the years, you witness a few of his unsuccessful relationships. His last one lasted three years, and at one point you’re convinced he’s going to propose to her any day—until Jungkook casually told you that his brother ended things with his girlfriend.
That happened two years ago.
Since then, as far as you know, Yoongi hasn’t been with anyone. For two whole years.
For a long time, you assume it’s because he isn’t over his ex yet. But thanks to Jungkook’s constant reassurance that his brother is simply too busy with his job as a music producer. That makes you allow yourself to hold onto a quiet, ridiculous hope.
Maybe—just maybe—you still have a chance with the man who is four years older than you.
Eventually, the bachelor party winds down.
You spend the entire evening on the upper deck while the guys party below, thanks to the magazines stacked on the center table that kept you entertained.
When you finally check on them, the sight is disastrous. Everyone is completely wasted.
Taehyung and Hoseok are literally crawling across the floor. Seokjin drifts in and out of drunken sleep. Your brother looks only minutes away from passing out completely, and Jungkook is wandering around looking for you for some unknown reason, drooling slightly while muttering incoherent nonsense.
Yoongi is the only one who still seems remotely normal.
You have no idea how he managed to get all five men back to their hotel rooms easily. Meanwhile, you are stuck dragging Jungkook’s heavy, half-conscious body from the elevator to the suite he shares with Yoongi, and you feel like you might die halfway through the hallway.
Yoongi holds the door open for you as you guide Jungkook toward his bed.
Miraculously, the moment Jungkook reaches the room, he seems to regain a bit of consciousness. Without saying a word, he stumbles straight into the bathroom to take a shower.
You take that as your cue to leave.
After saying goodbye to Yoongi, you drag your heavy suitcase—the same one you brought into their suite earlier—back down the hallway toward your own room.
A few minutes after you leave, Jungkook steps out of the shower—still half-drunk—and makes his way to Jimin and Taehyung’s room.
Yoongi is left alone.
He’s about to set up his laptop and a few basic pieces of music equipment when his stomach growls in protest.
Rather than ordering room service, he decided to head down to the convenience store on the ground floor of the hotel.
As the elevator doors slide open, his eyes immediately land on you.
You’re standing near the front desk with your suitcase beside you, looking distraught and on the verge of tears. A staff member is speaking to you apologetically while a man stands nearby, clearly involved in the situation. In your hand, your phone is pressed to your ear as you attempt to call your brother, Namjoon.
“What happened?” Your head snapped on your side when Yoongi approached, placing an arm around your shoulders. His voice is calm, but his eyes are fixed on the receptionist, demanding for an explanation.
The staff quickly explains the situation.
When Seokjin booked the hotel rooms, the reservation system had been experiencing a major glitch. Because of it, your room had been double-booked. The man standing across from you had actually reserved the room weeks before Seokjin made the booking.
The staff members are deeply apologetic. They promised a full refund on your room and offered a fifty percent discount on all the rooms under Seokjin’s name as compensation.
Ordinarily, transferring you to another room would have solved the problem immediately, but luck isn’t on your side tonight.
Unfortunately, the entire hotel is fully booked—there isn’t a single spare room available.
The receptionist then offers an alternative, a complimentary stay at their sister hotel located about ten minutes away. Desperate and exhausted, you quickly accepted the offer.
Yoongi, however, reacts very differently.
“No,” he responded flatly while looking at the receptionist.
The single word is firm, almost cutting, as if the suggestion itself is ridiculous. Before the staff can say anything further, he simply adds, “We’ll figure it out,” and gently but decisively guides you away from the desk.
When you ask why he refused the offer, Yoongi only shrugs lightly.
“It’s not safe,” he explained. “Your brother will lose it in the morning if he finds out you moved to a different hotel.”
When the elevator returns to your floor, the two of you spend nearly an hour knocking on doors and ringing the phones of every one of the guys.
Too bad, everyone was far too drunk to hear anything. Not a single door opens.
With a quiet long sigh, Yoongi finally turns to you and offers the only solution left.
“You can stay in my room,” he mumbled, biting the inside of his cheek. “Jungkook’s in Jimin and Taehyung’s room anyway. He’s probably passed out with them by now.”
For you, it isn’t really a big deal.
You’ve shared space with Yoongi countless times before—just the two of you alone. Whenever your brother leaves the two of you in the living room while he steps out, or when you end up cleaning the aftermath of one of your or Namjoon’s birthday parties together, it has always felt normal.
Comfortable, familiar, but this time feels different.
Maybe it’s because Yoongi quietly insists on carrying your heavy suitcase. Or maybe it’s because, without saying much, he slips off his jacket and drapes it over your shoulders when he notices that you’re still wearing your yacht outfit—one that leaves more skin exposed than the chilly hallway allows.
Whatever the reason is, something about this moment feels unfamiliar in a way the two of you have never experienced before.
The distance between your eyebrows slowly disappears when Yoongi tells you to sleep on the floor using the extra mattress and thick comforter he had just requested through room service.
For a moment, you had almost convinced yourself that tonight might turn into something special. After all, you are spending the night with your long-time secret crush.
That hopeful thought fades quickly when he casually reminds you that he is not much of an affectionate person and you’re not an exception for it.
An internal battle immediately begins in your mind—whether to protest or simply accept his rather cold offer. But the answer becomes clear just as quickly.
Yoongi is not Jungkook. You cannot act bratty toward him the way you do with your best friend. Yoongi, you’re certain, would not hesitate to throw you out of the room in the middle of the night if you pushed too far.
So you swallow your complaints.
After fixing your sleeping arrangement on the floor—though not without a bit of sulking—you pull a few things from your suitcase and head toward the bathroom.
You take a quick shower and go through your skincare routine, but halfway through it your stomach begins to growl with hunger. You are far too sleepy and tired to eat a full meal, but luckily you notice a bar of chocolate wrapped in a fancy red wrapper tucked among Jungkook and Yoongi’s skincare products on the counter.
Thinking that it’s just another snack Jungkook likes to stash somewhere in his things, you open the chocolate and begin munching while continuing your routine.
Halfway through the bar, your sugar craving already feels satisfied. You neatly place the remaining bar at the far corner of the sink counter.
After brushing your teeth, you slip into your pair of black satin pajamas—soft and comfortably loose.
When you step out of the bathroom, the suite lights are already dimmed.
Yoongi is sitting on the far side of the room, his back partially turned toward you as he works on his laptop. A pair of headphones rests over his ears, and the glow of the screen illuminates the sharp lines of his face.
Yoongi has always had a deep passion for music. Both he and your cousin Hoseok often stay over at your house late into the night, working alongside your brother. Namjoon frequently helps consult their lyrics, given that he is a writer and currently works as the editor-in-chief of a large publishing company.
You have always found yourself mesmerized every time Yoongi was in his element.
Tonight’s not an exception, even after he dismissed you to sleep on the floor while he enjoys the luxury of the huge, comfortable bed.
You scoffed silently at your own thoughts before settling into the soft comforter on your tiny makeshift bed, scrolling through your phone.
A few minutes passed, and you noticed something strange. Your heart rate begins to climb slowly for no clear reason. You lower your phone and stare up at the ceiling, trying to figure out what is causing the sudden flutter in your chest.
Instead, you just become aware of the faint beads of sweat forming along your forehead and the delicate line of your neck, trailing toward your collarbone. You feel hot even though the suite’s air conditioner is blasting.
You try to ignore the weird discomfort and decide to focus on falling asleep.
But no matter how hard you try to relax, you keep getting distracted by how warm your body feels. Without even realizing it, you even push the comforter away from your body in an attempt to cool down.
The strange feeling doesn’t fade. If anything, it only grows stronger.
You begin tossing and turning restlessly, unaware of how much the movement is starting to distract Yoongi from arranging the synth on the track he’s working on.
Fed up by distress in your body, you sit up abruptly and head straight for the bathroom.
Standing in front of the mirror, you study your reflection. Your skin looks unusually flushed. You cup your face in both hands, surprised by how warm it feels. Your cheeks are deeply tinted red, your eyes glossy, and in a strange way your entire complexion seems to glow.
You close your eyes and try to concentrate on what exactly is happening to your body.
The warmth continues to build low in your abdomen, spreading through you in a way that makes your breath catch. You bite your lower lip as you feel a sudden, undeniable awareness of your own body.
A quiet gasp escapes you when the realization hits—you are aroused.
You squeeze your thighs together once you're certain of the wetness settling on the thin fabric of your underwear. Of all the times you get to be horny, it has to be tonight—when the only other person in the suite is Yoongi.
You pondered for a moment if you’re entering your ovulation phase but being the person you are, you don't usually track those kinds of things.
Brushing off the weird timing of your arousal, you return to the small mattress on the floor beside the queen-sized bed and attempt once again to sleep.
But you really couldn’t.
Your heartbeat continues to race, your body growing extremely warmer by the second, you’re almost panting. The sensation becomes increasingly overwhelming until your breathing grows heavier, slower, deeper.
Your legs pressed tightly together, afraid you might start grinding against nothing without meaning to. Your thoughts spiral with deep urge, and it feels as though you might completely lose control of yourself at any moment.
After several more tossing and turning, you stood up again and made your way to the bathroom for the second time.
You convince yourself that perhaps you simply need to pee—that maybe doing so will help you feel better. You focus entirely on that thought, hoping it will calm the storm raging inside you.
Meanwhile, Yoongi hears everything.
Every restless shift, uneven breaths, every small shuffle across the floor during the last twenty minutes.
At first he tries to ignore it, but eventually curiosity begins to creep in.
The suite is quiet enough that he can hear the faint sound of your muffled sniffing partnered with heavy huffing sounds of your exhales from the bathroom. A knot of worry tightens in his chest.
For a moment, he wonders if you absolutely hated sleeping on the floor—you started crying.
The second you step out of the bathroom, Yoongi closes his laptop and turns toward you.
“Y/N, you okay?” he asked, his eyes carefully studying you.
You stop just outside the bathroom door, caught completely off guard by him suddenly paying attention to you. Not knowing how to answer, you simply stand there, staring back at him in silence contemplating whether to share your non-problem with him.
Even in the dim lighting, Yoongi immediately notices that something is off.
He can see how flushed your cheeks are, the gloss in your eyes, the sweat on your forehead that’s dampening your baby hairs.
With genuine concern, he rises from his seat and walks toward you.
Without hesitation, he lifts the back of his hand to your forehead to check your temperature. Then after, both of his large hands move to cup the sides of your neck, feeling for any sign of a fever.
The contact makes you bite down on your lower lip as you are forced to meet his eyes.
Yoongi is much taller than you, which means you have to tilt your head upward to look at him. The position gives him the perfect opportunity to study your face more closely.
Now he notices everything more.
Your doe eyes, redness creeping on your eyeline, lashes fluttering softly in a way that feels almost unintentionally sexy. The deep crimson blush stained across your cheeks. And your lips—looking so soft, slightly parted, and impossibly full.
For the first time that night, Yoongi finds himself momentarily fazed.
You have no idea where the sudden boldness comes from, but when Yoongi asks if you’re okay, you find yourself reaching for one of the hands resting against your neck. Fingers slowly intertwine with his, holding on as if he is the only steady thing in the room.
“Yoongi… can you help me… please?” you whispered. Your voice is soft—so quiet that he almost doesn’t catch it the first time.
For a few seconds, Yoongi just simply stares at you.
It takes him a moment to process what you’ve said, his attention momentarily distracted by how sultry your voice sounds, making him wonder if you always talk like this.
Then something seemed to click in his brain. The familiarity of the signs you’re showing.
Yoongi abruptly pulls away and strides into the bathroom in a rush, catching you in surprise.
His eyes scan the large vanity countertop until they land on the half-eaten chocolate bar you had been snacking on earlier.
He stopped for a moment as if frozen. You watch his eyes widen slightly and his mouth slowly forms a small O as the realization sinks in.
“You ate this?” he was frowning when he asked.
Clueless and confused, you nod silently.
“But why?” he pressed again, his tone sharper now—almost accusatory, laced with disbelief, like you did something very stupid.
Your brows knit together by how small you feel right now.
“God forbid, I was hungry. Are you really upset that I ate your chocolate?” you spat, running a hand through your hair.
“Except it’s not just chocolate,” he responded, almost cutting you off. “This isn’t ordinary chocolate. It’s an aphrodisiac. Hoseok bought it as a prank gift for Jin-hyung’s party.”
Now it’s your turn to be dumbfounded.
The heat in your body seems to intensify all at once, spreading through you so strongly that it feels like you’re gonna pass out at any moment.
You quickly snatch the sweet treat from Yoongi’s hand, scanning the packaging.
The moment you confirm what it is, your stomach drops.
Your knees gave out, and you dramatically sank down onto the floor, suddenly wanting to cry from how overwhelming and embarrassing everything feels.
You don’t miss the part on the label explaining that the sweets can cause an intense increase in libido depending on how much is consumed.
And considering that the bar is nearly gone, it explains exactly why you feel like humping everything around like a dog in-heat.
Yoongi’s expression becomes soft, crouching down to help you back to your feet. He guides you gently toward the bed and sits you down, his actions more sympathetic than anything else.
From how warm your skin feels under his touch, he can only imagine how strange this must feel for you.
“What should I do, Yoongi? Should I go to the hospital?” you dreaded, your eyes pleading as you looked straight at him.
“You just have to let it pass,” he crooned.
He remains standing beside the bed, watching you as you roll your eyes at him.
“Ugh! I wish Jungkook were the one here with me right now.”
Yoongi’s brows immediately furrow at that.
For a brief moment, he wonders if you’re actually suggesting doing something far more intimate with his younger brother given your current state.
“I feel so hot… and weird… and—ugh! This is starting to frustrate me!” you groaned, fanning your face with both hands.
Realizing he’s likely going to be stuck dealing with this situation for the rest of the night, Yoongi suggested grabbing some ice cream from the convenience store downstairs with a heavy sigh.
Desperate for anything that might cool you down, you eagerly agreed.
A few minutes later, you’re standing in front of the freezer, examining the different flavors of mochi ice cream available.
Just as you’re deciding which one to get, the man who had originally booked your hotel room, the man who was just with you at the front desk earlier, approaches once he sees you, a couple of beers in his hand.
He apologizes once more for the mix-up, though you quickly reassure him that it wasn’t his fault.
He then followed to ask if you managed to find somewhere to stay for the night. You happily tell him that you did.
Not too far away, Yoongi stands at a distance, watching the interaction.
From where he’s standing, it’s painfully obvious that the guy is trying to flirt with you.
And when Yoongi overhears him inviting you to come hang out in his suite—to watch a movie with a few of his friends—his patience finally runs thin.
Without a word, he walks over, takes the mochi ice cream from your hand, and gently but firmly pulls you along toward the cashier.
By the time you step outside the store together, the stranger is already forgotten.
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Yoongi exclaimed, eyebrows knitting together.
You glance at him, irritated and confused.
“What did I do this time?”
“Really?” he says incredulously. “You were actually considering going with a stranger for a ‘movie night’ just because you’re feeling horny right now?”
You choked slightly at how casually he said those words.
Immediately, you smack his arm lightly while glancing around nervously to make sure no one overheard him.
“What the hell is wrong with you?!” you whispered sharply. “What if someone heard you and thinks I’m actually horny?!”
“Are you not?” he taunted with a smug little smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.
You shoved him lightly again, even more annoyed this time.
Without another word, you marched ahead toward the suite, leaving him behind.
But as you walk away, you hear him chuckle softly.
When the two of you returned to the hotel suite, Yoongi immediately settled back in front of his laptop and resumed working, quietly eating his ice cream. He leaves you to yourself—and to your problem that’s still simmering deep inside your body.
You end up lying across his bed, scrolling absentmindedly through your phone. Yoongi notices, but says nothing. He is fairly certain that the last thing you’ll be doing right now is sleep.
You are hoping that the weird sensation coursing through you would fade soon.
Instead, it grows worse.
Much worse.
Your body turns unbearably sensitive, every nerve suddenly heightened. There is an irritating restlessness beneath your skin—a persistent itch you cannot seem to satisfy no matter how hard you try to ignore it.
A dull ache begins forming low in your abdomen once more, as though you are holding something back that desperately wants to be released.
Without even realizing it, you begin practicing controlled breathing—slow, deliberate inhales followed by steady exhales—trying to clear your mind and calm the relentless pounding of your heart.
The thought of touching yourself creeps quietly into your mind.
You glance toward Yoongi, considering to straddle on his lap and begin to hump him until you’re satisfied.
You cursed yourself with your dirty thoughts.
He probably wouldn’t mind if you slipped into the bathroom for a moment… right?
Letting out a deep sigh, you grab your phone and attempt to call Jungkook again, hoping desperately that he might finally answer and somehow rescue you from this miserable situation.
But the line rings unanswered.
Across the room, Yoongi is having his own struggle.
For the past fifteen minutes, his eyes have been fixed on his laptop screen, but his mind has been anywhere but on his work. Your constant shifting on the bed, the soft rustling of sheets, and the occasional frustrated grunt escaping your lips make it nearly impossible for him to concentrate.
Eventually, he exhales heavily and shuts the laptop completely this time.
He stood up, stretching his arms briefly before walking over to the bed.
From where he stands beside it, he looks down at you—clearly taking in the rather pitiful state you’re in.
“Go back to your bed,” he said flatly. “I’m going to sleep now.”
He spares you a quick glance before looking away, his attention drifting somewhere else around the room.
You didn’t move. You didn’t even answer.
Instead, you remained sprawled across the center of the queen-sized bed, gazing up at him with heavy-lidded eyes. Your lashes flutter slowly, your lips slightly parted as you continue trying to regulate your breathing. Your chest rises and falls unevenly, your skin still flushed with warmth.
So fucking arousing.
“Aish… hurry up!” he groans under his breath, attempting to sound annoyed—though it doesn’t quite land the way he intends.
Just by looking at you, he already knows you’re not planning to budge.
He was slightly surprised when you suddenly raises your hand toward him, the gesture resembling a silent request to help you stand up.
With a faint frown, he reaches out and takes your hand, offering a help.
But you have something entirely different in mind.
Using the last bit of strength you have left, you suddenly tug him forward instead. He stumbles toward you in surprise, and in one swift motion your free hand grips the collar of his shirt.
Caught completely off guard, Yoongi loses his balance as he falls forward over you.
His reflexes are quick enough for him to brace his arms on either side of your head before his full weight can land on you. Still, the lower half of his body collides lightly with yours, pressing down just enough to draw a soft whimper from your lips at the unexpected contact.
“The fuck you’re doing, Y/N?” he asked, his voice low, breathing ragged, and slightly surprised.
His heart began to pound, brain couldn’t function properly as much.
You hold his gaze without any trace of backing down.
Slowly, your arms slide around his neck, preventing him from easily pulling away if he tries.
“Can you help me just this once, Yoongi?” you muttered, your eyes pleading with unmistakable desperation.
Yoongi wanted to say something back but he couldn’t, completely distracted by how you say his name just now, so sultry, it almost sounded like a moan.
Before he can protest, you lift your head from the pillow and press your lips against his.
The kiss is gentle. Your soft lips move against his with careful curiosity, exploring slowly. You nibble lightly at his lower lip, tugging at it before your tongue brushes against his mouth in a timid invitation.
It is tender. Careful. Almost hesitant.
Realizing that Yoongi wasn’t responding at all, a wave of shame crashes over you.
Your mind immediately spirals, overthinking the worst conclusions.
You should stop. You should pull away before you embarrass yourself any further.
Reluctantly, you begin to withdraw, your lips leaving his. Your eyes sting slightly as the weight of the moment settles in your chest. Your arms loosen from around his neck.
When you open your eyes again, you find Yoongi staring directly at you.
His gaze is fixed—intense, almost analytical—as if he’s studying you and waiting to see what you’ll do next.
Shock is written plainly across his face.
He hasn’t moved. He hasn’t said a word.
The silence is eating you alive.
“I—”
You tried to speak but was cut off when his hand suddenly slid to the back of your neck.
In one swift motion, he pulls you closer, crashing his lips against yours.
This time, the kiss is bold, craving, hungry, no trace of hesitation.
Your lips move against each other with growing urgency, your breaths mingling between them. His kiss is confident, consuming, and when his lips press firmly against yours, tiny whimpers of pleasure escape your mouth without permission.
His tongue prod your lips, demanding for an entrance instead of asking. He is using his mouth skillfully to devour you, waking up a much more intense desire.
His mouth slowly maneuvers over your jaw, placing wet kisses on your soft skin as you angle your head to give him more access. He traces your skin with his tongue while nibbling on your ears, swiping over the sensitive spots of your lobes.
“Yes, just like that.” You moaned, your hands wrapping in his locks, tugging at it softly while you’re getting drunk by the tingling feeling poking on your spine.
“You sure ‘bout this?” he whispered against your skin, asking for your permission.
The feeling of his mouth exploring your body, combined with the subtle weight of him hovering over you, tickles something deep in your brain. All you can do is moan in response and nod repeatedly, desperate for him to continue.
Your hands slide under his shirt, slowly drawing circles on his softly toned stomach as you savor the sensation of his mouth working against your neck—sucking on your supple skin until it leaves dark purple marks.
Every time his tongue circles a spot he’s marked, easing the sharp sting from sucking too hard, it feels like you’re getting drunk.
You involuntarily started grinding underneath his body, making sure to rub your core against his growing bulge— earning deep quiet groans from him.
As his mouth is busy leaving marks and love bites on your neck, his hands work on your pajamas, hastily unbuttoning them one by one until your plump, full breasts are freed. He left your neck for a while to adore your delicate body.
“So fucking sexy,” before thinking, the words already slipped out of his mouth.
He claimed your lips once again, passionate like the first time. When his fingers grazed the edge of your pants, your breath hitched, mouth slightly parted. He took it as an opportunity to swirl his tongue all over yours.
You lifted your hips slightly as he deliberately pulled down your pajamas with your panties all at once, making it easier to be discarded.
His hands were rough against your soft skin, the coldness of the steel from his rings touches your delicate thighs giving a thrill of excitement.
Once you’re fully naked underneath him, Yoongi propped himself up, hurriedly taking off his shirt and pants while looking at you. Eyes wandering on your beautiful body.
You do exactly the same, heavy lidded eyes are focused on him while he undresses. Once he successfully discarded his boxers, you see his massive hard cock slightly swaying as it hangs out.
Absent-mindedly, you licked your lips at his size, drawing a smirk on Yoongi’s lips.
You folded your knees upward, thighs slightly apart, giving him a good angle of your leaking hole.
Yoongi stares intently at you, cursing himself repeatedly in his head as he realizes his best friend’s sister is completely naked in front of him.
When you notice Yoongi staring at you for too long, a worry crosses your chest—thinking he changed his mind, that he might not be up for it after all.
You rose, kneeling on the bed, as you sat on them.
He just stands there, contemplating, his knees brushing the edge of the bed while his hand slowly strokes his cock, eyes locked on you.
“There’s still chocolate left, if you need it,” you murmured softly, your voice teasing slightly to mask the sudden awkwardness.
“H-huh?” he asked, as if he didn’t hear you the first time.
“I said, there’s still chocolate left,” you repeated. “You know, in case you needed help,” you continued.
Yoongi scoffed at your words. “I don’t need help, Y/N. I’m already painfully hard, as you can see,” he teased.
Your gaze drops to his cock as he continues stroking it slowly.
“Then why aren’t you touching me? Second guessing?” you pressed again, bold and direct, though the softness in your voice betrays a hint of worry that he might be having second thoughts.
“No, baby,” he cooed, his free hand moving to the side of your cheek, gently tracing your skin.
Your stomach flutters at the nickname.
Gathering enough courage, you slowly reach for his throbbing cock.
“Can I?” you asked for permission. He nods.
You bring your palm to your mouth, spit on it, then gently wrap your hand around him, spreading your saliva so your grip glides smoothly. Using your thumb, you carefully collect the precum leaking at his tip and spread it over his plush mushroom head.
You notice his hand, which had been caressing your cheek, drop to his side. His head falls back, eyes closing, mouth slightly parted, breath growing heavy—clear signs he enjoys what you’re doing.
You continue stroking him, feeling the friction of his shaft against your soft palms, tracing every angry vein, sending shivers up your spine.
Bringing your mouth close to his throbbing head, you spit on it again, then press your tongue flat to his tip, tasting the salty precum as you gently suck on it. When you release his head, it makes a nice popping sound, followed by a deep grunt from Yoongi.
You glance at him, checking if it hurts, but all you see is pure pleasure on his face.
You flatten your tongue and lick a slow stripe from base to head, then you flick your tongue over his tip once more, swirling it on his slit before going back to his base, placing soft kisses all over his balls then for the second time, licking a slow stripe from the base to his tip. Tongue wet and warm, your nose grazing the skin of his length.
“Fucking hell…” Yoongi let out a throaty curse, drunk and breathless.
Yoongi cups your jaw with one hand, taking his cock in the other, giving it a few shallow strokes before gliding the tip along your lips, teasing you.
“Fuck, Y/N, your brother’s gonna kill me,” he murmured, eyes fixed on his tip swirling along your plumped lips.
A soft grin tugs at your lips as you look up at him, making sure to flutter your lashes a little sexier.
“But hell, you’re so attractive right now, it feels like a sin not to touch you,” he continued, his voice deep and low, the kind that makes girls go crazy over with.
His hand leaves your jaw and grips your hair in a makeshift ponytail.
“I’ll just deal with your him later,” he whispered, lightly slapping his cock against your face.
“Mhmm, open up for me, baby.”
It’s not a request—it’s an order you willingly follow.
Yoongi shoves his massive, aching cock inside your mouth, broken curses slipping from his lips. His hand in your hair provides support as he continues to push himself.
Another delicious moan escapes his lips once his tip touches the back of your throat. Thanks to your nonexistent gag reflex, Yoongi feels like he’s floating in euphoria.
Your eyes start to water from how full your mouth is, your jaw aching from the stretch, yet there’s still part of him that can’t fit entirely.
Just his size alone is enough to make you wet. Yoongi is thick rather than long, but you still estimated he’s almost six inches with a fat girth.
A sudden memory flashes—the first time you touched yourself back in high school, imagining it was him, losing count of how many times you moaned his name.
Back in reality, you place your hand on his hips and take over. Slowly, bobbing your head, taking his cock in and out of your mouth, your free hand is pumping the remaining of his length.
Drool dipping down your chin as you take him further down, hollowing your cheeks, pace increasing but consistent.
Yoongi couldn’t help but to watch you take his cock, plump lips stretched obscenely wide around his girth, eyes glossy, and looking so fucking pretty while giving him the best blowjob of his life.
You notice his grip on your hair tightening—you know he’s close. But to your surprise, Yoongi stops you. He says he doesn’t want to finish yet with just your mouth.
“Now lay down for me, baby.” he instructed, finally letting go of everything that’s restraining him.
“Damn, you’re so beautiful.”
The compliment was a slip, Yoongi is so mesmerized with you tonight, he seemed to forget how to act properly with a girl in bed.
You tried to hide the blush creeping onto your cheeks, but it’s already too late.
“You know I’ll still let you fuck me tonight even without these flattering words, right?” you counter playfully.
Yoongi, who is hovering over you, looks directly into your eyes, his expression suddenly firm.
“I’m not the type to compliment girls just to get in their pants. We can just sleep now, and I’ll still think you’re beautiful when we wake up in the morning.”
Something about his words makes your stomach twist. A false hope begins to glimmer in your heart.
In the silence, your mind starts wondering if there might be a chance that Yoongi could like you romantically.
Your thoughts are instantly cut off when Yoongi starts sucking on your nipple while his free hand roughly massages the other, as if he has been craving it.
You let out a soft whimper, remembering how sensitive you are, and your body begins grinding against the pleasurable feeling.
Yoongi nips at the bud of your nipple, nibbles on the soft skin around it, and sucks on it hard enough to leave a mark—as if claiming what’s his.
While he is busy playing with your breasts, your hand swiftly moves in between your bodies until you find his cock. Slowly, you give it a few pumps before gliding it along the lips of your cunt, collecting your own arousal.
Yoongi jolts at the sudden contact, biting your skin a little too hard and making you hiss in pain.
The next thing you hear is his muffled curses as he buries his face into your heavy breasts.
You know now that gliding his tip along your leaking cunt makes his head spin, so you keep doing it until it starts feeling too much for you as well.
Both of you are panting from uncontrollable lust and arousal. Yoongi props himself up and kneels between your legs.
“Shit! I don’t have any spare condoms,” he realizes, frustration evident on his face.
Yoongi came to this bachelor’s party with no intention of getting laid, which is why he didn’t bother bringing condoms with him. And without having someone in his life for nearly two years, he never felt the need to keep one in his wallet.
“I—I got tested recently when I broke up with my ex, and I haven’t stopped taking my birth control,” you stated, slightly embarrassed by the sudden TMI.
“My last screening was almost two years ago,” he confessed, and you can see the hesitation and aching disappointment creeping into his expression.
“When was the last time you had sex?” you asked boldly in return, not really caring to know if he’s clean, you know he is, but deep down you just wanted to know if he has someone in his life recently, despite knowing he is single.
“Two years ago.”
His answer desperately lingers in your mind. You have no idea that Yoongi hasn’t been sexually active.
You tried not to overreact, but this is news to you.
Yoongi is a very attractive man—no one can deny that, especially since he decided to grow his hair long. Anyone who looks at him can tell he’s a decent man: well-spoken, a gentleman, and financially stable for his age.
He’s a highly sought-after producer in the industry, collaborating left and right with well-known artists. He has his own apartment and his own car.
A very eligible bachelor that could easily be getting different girls every night if he wanted.
“Fuck! I’ll drop by the convenience store real quick.” Yoongi is about to get off the bed, panic creeping into his voice as he noticed you haven’t responded.
You grab his hand, stopping him.
“Hey, I’m okay with it. You’re not going anywhere,” your voice speaks desperation.
“You sure? I don’t want you to feel pressured,” he replied, his voice soothing your nerves.
“Yoongi, please…”
“Please what, baby?”
A playful smirk is back on his face upon hearing your desperate pleas.
“I can’t wait anymore… mhmm want you inside me.”
There is a shift in the air. The sexual tension between you grows thicker with every passing second.
Yoongi positions himself back between your legs. He lifted one of your legs onto his shoulder while the other rested against his hip.
He takes his still-hard cock, giving it a few lazy pumps until precum leaks from the tip, then aligns himself to your entrance. He spits onto you, the saliva landing directly on your clit, then uses the tip of his cock to spread it along your cunt as added lubrication.
“Relax for me, baby.”
He massages your clit a few times with his long digits before suddenly dipping three fingers into your leaking hole, pumping it aggressively a few times making sure you are prepped. A sultry whimper escapes you, followed quickly by soft grunts of frustration when he pulls them out just as suddenly, leaving you craving more.
He slowly pushes his cock into your hole, giving you time to adjust.
His cock is so fat forcing your tight walls to stretch around him, snug, slippery, and tight. The mix of pain and pleasure makes you gasp for air, while he’s biting his lip to keep himself from slamming deeper too fast.
Broken curses and series of moans of repeated, ‘yes, yes, yes’ fill the quiet of the room, your whimpers are high and breathy, while his are low, deep, almost turning into desperate grunts.
“Just a little more,” he grunts against your ear.
Your nails are digging to the back of his shoulders as you can feel the drag of every vein of his cock along your velvety walls until his length is fully sheathed inside you.
Yoongi stopped momentarily so you can fully adjust to the stretch. Your breaths are heavy as you feel the thick pressure settling deep in your belly as if your body was being filled too full.
You can’t help but to clench around him repeatedly when you become aware of a swollen spot on your belly where his cock bulges from inside of you.
He gently presses on the spot, sending extreme pleasure to your core.
“Okay to fuck you now, baby?” he asked, cocky and proud.
After a few eager nods from you, Yoongi starts moving—deliberate and slow. He pulls halfway out before thrusting fully back inside with force.
He notices the pain registering on your face as he rams into you, so he brings his thumb back to your clit, pressing against it, making sure to hit the bundle of nerves while drawing slow circles to distract you from the discomfort.
When he sees your expression shift from pain to pleasure, he takes it as a sign to quicken his pace.
Your cunt releases more wetness while Yoongi continues to play with your clit, making it easier for his cock to glide in and out of your tight hole. A feeling that makes him curse himself for how good it was.
His slow, deep thrusts soon turn into shorter, faster ones.
Yoongi fucks you with intention—strong and brutal. His eyes remain fixed on you, watching you lose yourself as he drives into your cunt again and again.
His hands move to grope your breasts, which bounces deliciously in sync with his thrusts.
All you can do is moan beneath him, screaming his name over and over as both pain and pleasure take over your body.
Maybe it’s the aphrodisiac. Maybe it’s the feelings you’ve hidden for him for so long. Either way, this is the best sex of your life.
Yoongi shifts his position, bringing both your legs onto his hips as you automatically wrap them around him. He bends forward to kiss your lips while continuing to fuck you.
His movements remain relentless and steady, shoving himself fully inside you each time, giving you some of his weight whenever his pelvis meets the lips of your cunt.
“Oh my god! Oh god, oh god—right there! Yes! Yes!”
You cry out in pleasure when Yoongi begins hitting your g-spot. Your nails further claw down his back, making him hiss at the mixture of pain and pleasure.
Losing your mind is an understatement.
“Yoongi, I’m gonna come—oh fuck! Don’t stop,” you choked out as warmth pools in your lower abdomen.
“Yes, come for me, baby. You deserve it.”
A few more direct thrusts against your g-spot sends you over the edge.
Yoongi feels your walls tighten and pulse around his cock, followed by a rush of warm liquid spilling from your cunt as he continues thrusting deeply and slowly—still rubbing your overly sensitive clit while you ride out your orgasm.
As your peak begins to fade, Yoongi quickens his pace once again, chasing his own climax.
His hips snap fast and short with brutal force while his lips nip and bite at your neck.
You noticed how loud he’s getting, moaning your name repeatedly and muttering broken curses in between as his thrusts become sloppy and uneven—a clear sign he’s close.
“Can I come inside, baby?” he asked, almost pleading, his face buried in the crook of your neck, voice low and breathless.
“Yes…” you answered back without hesitation, overwhelmed by the pleasure coursing through your body.
“Y/N… baby…” he cooed between heavy breaths.
“Yes, Yoongi, yes… all you want.”
Yoongi cried out a long, guttural moan—the kind that made you squeeze your eyes shut because of how intensely arousing it sounds.
Still bucking his hips, you feel hot ropes of liquid shooting deep inside you. You also feel his teeth grazing the skin of your neck, careful enough not to hurt you but still sending delicious sensation through your body.
You absentmindedly bite your lower lip when you realize he’s coming more than the normal amount. His release begins spilling out of your cunt as he lazily keeps thrusting his spent cock, yet he still isn’t done.
It makes you wonder when was the last time he even touched himself.
A few moments later, Yoongi’s body fully collapses on top of you.
Your hand moves to the back of his head, slowly stroking his long hair as he keeps his face buried against your neck.
“Hell, did it really take me this long to risk everything for you?”
Yoongi’s words are clear—you’re sure you heard them right—but you still struggle to understand what he means.
You want to ask him. You want to know if there’s even the slightest chance that he likes you too.
But no words came out.
With his head resting near your chest, you wonder if he can hear how loudly your heart is beating right now.
The ray of sunlight hitting directly across your face slowly pulls you out from slumber. Your eyes flutter open, still heavy with exhaustion, and you attempt to shift your body away from the blinding light.
But a weight draped over your back makes it difficult to move.
Still half lost in the haze of the previous night, your mind slowly begins piecing things together. A heavy arm is wrapped securely around your waist, holding you close. At the same time, you become aware of a warm presence nestled against the back of your neck—steady breaths brushing softly against your skin.
Yoongi is spooning you from behind.
A small smile spreads across your lips. You have imagined something like this for years.
There has always been something about Yoongi that draws you to him—something quiet and magnetic that captured your attention long ago, back when you were still in high school, despite the age gap between you.
Through all your attempts to catch his attention over time, it is almost amusing that your brother, Namjoon, never once noticed that among all the people in his circle, you treated Yoongi differently.
Even while quietly admiring him from afar, you never stopped yourself from dating other people. Still, none of those relationships ever lasted very long.
Because, somewhere deep down, you have always been hoping for a chance with him.
And now, it is actually happening.
You feel Yoongi stir slightly behind you, his arm shifting just enough to loosen its hold. Taking the opportunity, you gently turn your body to face him.
“Good morning,” you greeted softly, smiling as you brush a few strands of his long bangs away from his face.
Instead of answering right away, Yoongi leans forward and presses a soft kiss against your forehead. Then another against the tip of your nose.
And finally, a brief peck on your lips.
Heat instantly rises to your cheeks.
“Feeling better now?” he asked with his bedroom voice, eyes still adjusting to the morning light filtering into the suite.
“Mhm,” you nod. Then, after a small pause, you add, “But I’m sore.”
A quiet chuckle escapes him.
“Can we stay like this for a while?” he murmured, pulling you a little closer against his chest.
Then quietly, “I’m not sure if I’ll still be able to hold you like this once I tell Namjoon what happened.”
You blink in surprise at his sudden openness.
Tilting your head slightly, you search his face.
“We don’t have to tell them what happened,” you suggested gently, hoping to ease whatever worry he might be feeling.
This time Yoongi looks directly at you. A small crease forms between his brows as he frowns slightly.
“I don’t date in secret, Y/N.”
Your eyes widened in surprise, thinking you were suddenly hallucinating.
“DATE??”
Your sudden outburst startled him, and for a brief moment the confidence in his expression falters. He mentally curses himself for jumping ahead without properly asking you first.
“I thought you liked me—”
“You knew?!” you interrupted.
Yoongi nods sheepishly.
“Jungkook told me—”
“That fucker— I swear to God—”
“Baby…” Yoongi murmured softly, cutting off your mini rant with a calming tone as he pulled you again closer to his chest. You gladly snuggled against him.
“I’m sorry if I startled you. We can take it slow,” he mumbled, his gaze steady and sincere as he watched your reaction. “You know… get to know each other better before we start dating. Assuming your brother doesn’t kill me first when I tell him.”
You hold his gaze for a moment.
Then you shook your head.
“Fuck taking it slow—and fuck Namjoon. It’s my decision if I want to date you now,” you said firmly before leaning forward to place a few soft pecks on his lips.
A smile spreads across Yoongi’s face.
He shifts slightly, about to lean over you and deepen the kiss—
When suddenly the suite door swings open. Both of your heads snap toward the doorway.
Standing there is Jungkook, who very clearly has just woken up.
For a split second he freezes, eyes widening as he realizes he has just walked in on his older brother sharing a bed with someone.
“Shit!” Jungkook panicked, quickly stepping back out and pulling the door closed again.
Just seconds later, the door swings open once more—this time with added force.
“Y/N? What the hell?!” Jungkook blurted out in disbelief as he strides into the room and shuts the door behind him.
He stares at the two of you, clearly stunned by the sight.
Yoongi is already preparing to kick him out, but you instinctively pull the comforter higher around yourself, curling closer to Yoongi in embarrassment.
Your eyes follow Jungkook as he casually walks toward the bathroom.
The moment he disappears inside, you lean closer to Yoongi and whisper hurriedly into his ear.
“Yoongi… I’m still naked.”
Your face burns at the realization that Jungkook—your best friend—just saw you in bed with his brother, fully naked under the thick comforter, but he doesn’t know that, right?
“The hell do you want, Jungkook? Can you get out?” Yoongi called toward the bathroom, his tone calm despite the situation.
“Took you long enough, hyung,” Jungkook teases as he steps back out.
“Fuck you. Get out,” Yoongi barked, rolling his eyes, though you can see a restrained smile tugging at his lips.
“Okay, okay—I just needed this.” Jungkook raises a hand, showing the toothbrush and toothpaste he grabbed from the sink as he walks toward the door.
But before stepping out, he pauses dramatically.
A mischievous grin spreads across his face as he tilts his head back slightly, tongue poking on the inside of his cheeks cockily, hands resting on his hips.
“You’re so dead when Namjoon-hyung finds out,” he teased his brother with a laugh.
And then he disappears, closing the door behind him.
Silence settles in the room again. That’s when a realization quietly dawns on you.
The real reason Jungkook never once tried to make a move on you all these years is because he knows.
The heavy glass doors of the boutique hissed shut behind you, but the clinical chill of the air conditioning did nothing to cool the fire simmering under your skin. This wasn't just a shopping trip; it was a declaration of war. After the explosive argument you’d had with Jimin this morning, you had set out with one goal: to see how many zeros you could drain from his bank account before he noticed.
Jimin was the type of man who would happily drape you in diamonds if you asked, but he loathed being manipulated. He hated this game,the way you used his own wealth as a weapon against his patience.
"How would y-you like to pay, ma'am?" the sales assistant stammered, her gaze darting nervously between your cold expression and the wall of stone-faced guards looming behind you.
"Card," you replied curtly, sliding Jimin’s signature black card across the marble counter.
You waited, tapping your manicured nails against the surface, already imagining the look on his face when the transaction alerts began flooding his phone. But as the seconds ticked by, the assistant’s face paled.
"Um, excuse me, ma'am... it seems your card has been... declined. It’s blocked."
Your heart skipped a beat, but not out of embarrassment. Out of pure, unadulterated fury. "What? No way. Try it again."
"I did, ma'am. It’s not going through."
You scoffed, reaching into your Chanel clutch and pulling out a secondary card. "Use this one."
Another minute of agonizing silence followed. The assistant looked like she wanted to disappear into the floorboards as she handed it back with trembling fingers. "This one isn't working either, ma'am."
You felt your jaw tighten until it ached. Jimin. That calculated, arrogant traitor. He hadn't just anticipated your move; he had dismantled it before you even reached the mall.
You settled the balance through a private transfer from your personal account, a bitter pill to swallow and swept out of the store. Every step toward the waiting car was fueled by a fresh wave of adrenaline.
As the door of the SUV clicked shut, you sank into the leather seat, staring out the tinted window. You had underestimated him. You often forgot that beneath the doting husband was a man whose wit was as sharp as his ego. Jimin wasn't the type to just sit back and let you bleed him dry out of spite. He was always one step ahead, playing a game of chess while you were still throwing pieces.
The war wasn't over, but round one clearly belonged to Park Jimin.
The car hadn't even come to a full stop before you were out, the gravel crunching beneath your designer heels as you stormed toward the massive front doors. You didn't just enter the mansion; you invaded it.
The living room was quiet, save for the low murmur of business talk. Jimin was perched on the sofa, looking effortlessly composed as he scrolled through a tablet. His assistant stood nearby, and Taehyung, Jimin’s closest associate was lounging in the armchair opposite him.
"Park Jimin!" Your voice roared through the high ceilings, sharp enough to cut the air.
The assistant visibly flinched, shifting on his feet. Taehyung’s eyes darted from you to Jimin, a silent 'here we go' written all over his face. Jimin, however, didn't even flinch. A slow, infuriating smirk tugged at the corner of his lips as his fingers continued to dance across the screen.
"I am talking to you!" you snapped, your chest heaving with indignation.
Finally, he looked up. His gaze was cool, hooded, and entirely too calm for your liking. "Yes, love?"
With a dismissive wave of his hand, he signaled for the others to leave. Taehyung let out a weary sigh, pushing himself up and shoving his hands into his pockets. He spared Jimin a pointed look. "Fix your shit, man," he muttered under his breath before heading toward the exit.
The moment the doors clicked shut, Jimin returned his attention to the tablet. The blatant disregard was the final straw. You lunged forward and snatched the device right out of his hand.
"Y/N," he said, his voice dropping an octave. There was a dangerous edge to his tone, a warning you were far too angry to heed.
"What?! You fucking blocked my cards! Do you have any idea how humiliating that was?" you screamed, the embarrassment of the boutique rushing back to haunt you.
Jimin stood up slowly, his tall frame looming over yours until you were forced to tilt your head back. The proximity was stifling, charged with a tension that felt like static electricity.
"Was it? Then perhaps you shouldn't have behaved like such a brat the other night," he said, his voice terrifyingly steady.
"I was behaving like a brat? You didn't come to the event, Jimin!" You jabbed a finger into his chest, punctuating every word. "I had to stand there and make excuses for you all night while everyone whispered!"
He didn't move. He simply looked down at your finger against his shirt, then back into your eyes. "Careful, baby. I don't like that tone."
"Shove what you like up your ass," you hissed. You reached into your handbag, gripped the two useless pieces of plastic, and flung them directly at his face. "And shove these while you're at it!"
You didn't wait for a reaction. You turned on your heel and stormed toward the grand staircase, the echoes of your footsteps matching the frantic beating of your heart.
It had all spiraled from yesterday. Your charity gala—the event you had spent months planning—had been a solo performance because Jimin claimed he had important work. The humiliation of answering a hundred variations of "Where is your husband?" had boiled over into a screaming match last night, ending with you locking him out of the master suite.
You had wanted to hurt his pride. He had responded by cutting off your lifeline.
As you reached the bedroom door, you knew one thing for certain, in the high-stakes game of the Park marriage, the honeymoon phase had officially been replaced by scorched earth.
°
The bedroom was bathed in the amber glow of the setting sun, the silence heavy and suffocating. Jimin stepped inside, the rhythmic click of his shoes on the hardwood floor the only sound. He loosened his tie, the tension of the day still knotted in his shoulders.
"Y/n?" he called out, tossing his blazer onto the chaise lounge. No response. He checked the ensuite bathroom, then the walk-in closet—nothing but the lingering scent of your perfume.
He sighed, a low, frustrated sound. He knew you; you weren't just hiding. You were making a point. Cursing under his breath, he pulled out his phone and dialed your number, only to be met with the cold finality of your voicemail. He immediately diverted the call to your lead security detail.
"Where is she?" he demanded, pacing the length of the room like a caged predator.
"At her parents' estate, sir."
"I told you to inform me the second she goes somewhere!" he hissed, his voice dropping to a dangerous level. He didn't wait for an excuse. He grabbed his blazer and headed for the garage, the engine of his car roaring to life seconds later.
The atmosphere at your parents' house was a stark contrast to the cold war at the mansion. When Jimin walked in, he found you nestled on the sofa between your father and Liam—a "family friend" whose very existence had always been a thorn in Jimin’s side.
"Jimin! What a surprise," your mother exclaimed, balancing a tray of fresh cookies.
Jimin offered your parents a practiced, polite greeting, but his eyes were locked on you. You didn't even look up, instead choosing to lean slightly closer to Liam as you scoffed. Jimin’s jaw tightened. He hated the way Liam looked at you, and he hated even more that you were using him as a shield.
"Come, Jimin, sit down," your father gestured toward an armchair.
"No, thank you. I’m just here for Y/n," Jimin replied, his voice clipped.
You finally looked at him, crossing your legs and arms in a defensive posture that screamed defiance. "I’m not coming back."
The air in the room grew thick with sudden tension. Your mother glanced between the two of you, her eyebrows shooting up in a silent interrogation. What have you done now?
"Y/n," Jimin repeated, his patience fraying at the edges. "We’re leaving."
"Y/n, sweetheart, what is this?" your mother interjected, trying to play peacemaker. "Did you two have a fight?"
"Maybe they did," Liam chimed in, his tone casually provocative. He leaned back, a smug look on his face. "Let her be, Jimin. It looks like you're the one in the wrong here."
That was it. The small thread of Jimin’s restraint snapped. He ignored Liam entirely, treating him like a buzzing insect, and marched straight toward you. Before you could even register the movement, he leaned down, hooked his arm firmly around your waist, and hoisted you over his shoulder in one fluid, powerful motion.
"Jimin! Put me down!" you squealed, your face flushing as you began to hammer your fists against his broad back.
"Mom! Dad! Do something!"
But your parents merely exchanged a knowing look and shared a small, amused smile. They knew Jimin, and they knew you; this was just another Tuesday in the volatile world of the Parks.
"Goodnight, everyone," Jimin called out over your protests, his grip like iron as he carried his prize out toward the car.
The drive back was a symphony of silence, punctuated only by the aggressive click of your tongue and the hum of the engine. The moment the car rolled to a stop, you bolted, slamming the door with a bone-rattling force that echoed through the driveway.
Jimin was right on your heels, his stride effortless but determined. "Y/n, stop."
You reached the bedroom and tried to shove the heavy oak door shut, but his foot was already there, acting as a solid wedge. He pushed his way inside with a calm strength that only infuriated you further. You whirled around, eyes flashing with lightning.
"What is this, Y/n? Are you a child?" he asked, his voice low and level.
"Fuck off!"
"Y/n." He stepped into your personal space, reaching out to tuck a stray lock of hair behind your ear, but you swatted his hand away violently.
"Get away! Go!" You began a frantic assault of palms against his chest, your hands drumming a rhythm of frustration against his firm muscles. He let you vent for a heartbeat before his hand shot out, capturing both of your wrists in a single, unbreakable grip. He let out a long, weary sigh.
"I am sorry," he murmured, his eyes searching yours. "I should have been at the event I was wrong, and I’m sorry."
You glared up at him, your chest heaving. "An apology doesn't fix it! You didn't call me all day! And then you had the audacity to block my cards!"
A ghost of a smirk played on Jimin’s lips. "I unlocked them this morning, love."
Your anger faltered for a fraction of a second. "You did?"
"Yes." He released your wrists, his thumb grazing your pulse point before he stepped back.
You quickly recovered, crossing your arms and pouting. "I’m not melting. Not a chance. Go away."
You sank onto the edge of the bed, staring at the wall. Jimin followed, but instead of sitting beside you, he dropped to his knees on the floor. His hand found your thigh, his thumb tracing slow, hypnotic circles against the fabric of your skirt.
"I'm sorry, baby. Truly," he pleaded.
He looked up at you, his sharp, intimidating features softening into an expression of pure, unadulterated devotion. It was the puppy eyes—the one weapon in his arsenal you hadn't built a defense for. No one in the outside world would believe that the ruthless Park Jimin was currently on his knees, begging for his wife’s forgiveness.
You felt your throat go dry. "Fuck off," you whispered, though the bite was gone from your voice.
Jimin’s eyes darkened, the "uppy facade vanishing to reveal the predator beneath. "You want the exact opposite of that, don't you?"
He leaned forward, his lips pressing a lingering, searing kiss to the sensitive skin of your knee. You gasped softly as he began to pepper your thighs with slow, deliberate kisses, his gaze never leaving yours. Slowly, almost traitorously, your knees began to part for him.
He urged your thighs further apart, his hands sliding up to bunch the fabric of your skirt. Jimin’s breath hitched as he took in the sight of your lace panties, the silk already darkened and clinging to your skin.
"When did you get this wet for me, huh?" he whispered against your skin, his voice a gravelly caress that made you ache.
The friction of his lips against your inner thighs sent a jolt of electricity straight to your core. Your breath hitched, your chest heaving as the last remnants of your anger dissolved into pure, primal need.
"Fuck!" You groaned, your fingers tangling in his soft hair. You didn't just pull him closer; you guided his face directly into the heat radiating from between your legs.
Jimin let out a low, vibrating hum of approval, his mouth pressing firmly against the silk of your panties. He didn't wait. He nipped at the fabric, his tongue swirling over your folds until the damp lace offered no more resistance.
"Ah!" Your head fell back against the pillows, a desperate sound escaping your throat.
"So good," he whispered, his voice a dark rasp against your skin as he finally hooked his thumbs into the waistband and slid the lace down your legs. He didn't waste a second, burying his face in your softness and dragging his tongue over your clit in long, punishing strokes.
The room filled with the sound of your dangerous noises—the kind of wrecked, breathless moans that only he could draw out of you. Jimin gripped your hips, his fingers digging into your skin to hold you steady as he transitioned from teasing licks to deep, rhythmic laps. He pushed his tongue inside you, mimicking the motion of a thrust, while his thumb found your peak and circled it with dizzying speed.
"Jimin... more! Please!" you cried out, your knuckles whitening as you tugged at his hair.
He hummed against you, a vibration that rattled your very bones, and suddenly two fingers were sliding inside, hot and insistent. He began to massage your internal walls, his rhythm relentless.
"Fuck, baby, you’re so tight. Clench for me," he growled.
You obeyed, your muscles spasming around his intrusion. The combination was too much—the suction of his mouth on your clit and the friction of his fingers deep inside you. You were a beautiful mess of squirming limbs and broken pleas until the first wave of your climax hit, sending a shudder through your entire frame. You came hard, your release coating his hand, and you could only gasp as he slowly licked every drop of you from his fingers, his eyes never leaving yours.
"Fuck yeah... lick me clean, baby," you panted, your voice thick with honey.
Jimin’s smirk returned, dark and possessive. He delivered a sharp, playful slap against your sensitive skin, making you jump and moan all over again. Before you could catch your breath, he was back at it, his fingers working even faster.
"I can't... it's too much..." you whimpered, trying to pull your thighs together to escape the overwhelming sensation.
"No," he murmured, prying your legs back open and pinning them wide. "Squirt for me, baby. I want to see you lose it."
He intensified the assault, his fingers curling against your G-spot while his thumb hammered against your clit. The tension built until it felt like a physical weight in your chest. You whined, your body arching off the bed as the edge loomed closer.
"Ahh, fuck... J-Jimin!"
"Do it. Give it all to me."
A loud, broken cry tore from your lungs as a gush of liquid erupted from you. Jimin didn't flinch; he watched with hooded, hungry eyes as you clenched and pulsed, his tongue catching the liquid as it fell. You were shaking now, your legs trembling uncontrollably from the sheer force of it.
Finally, he pulled back. He took the two fingers that had been deep inside you and slid them into his own mouth, sucking them clean with a slow, deliberate sensuality that made your heart race for an entirely different reason.
"I am sorry," he said again, his voice dropping to that soft, melodic tone that always won you over.
You couldn't help the small, triumphant smile that tugged at your lips. Reaching out, you grabbed him by the collar and hauled him upward. He hovered over you, his weight a welcome pressure, and as his lips met yours.
민윤기x f!reader ˖ ࣪ ꉂ🗯˙ ‹— cw | idol!yoongi • domestic boyfriend!yoongi • fluff • comfort • clingy yoongi • long distance during tours • lots of physical affection • late night calls • lowercase intended
┈ [ ✉️ ] Hi angels !! This was a request by an anon in my inbox !!! And this is SO overdue I apologize. I have been very unproductive lately so… bear with me 🥺 Also, I am so close to 500 followers and I love you and thank you all so much !!! But Any-whom !! Happy reading !!
before tour boyfriend!yoongi :(
— spends more time in his studio with you sitting nearby :( doesn’t even need you talking. just likes looking over and seeing you there while he works
— gets quieter before leaving but not in a sad way. more thoughtful. like he’s mentally trying to memorize your routines before he has to be away from them again
— the type to casually ask “you’ll call me if something happens, right?” instead of directly admitting he’s worried about leaving you
— absolutely makes songs while thinking about you but will deny it immediately if you point it out
— starts sleeping later before tour because he doesn’t want to waste time unconscious when he could still be beside you :(
— prefers quiet nights together before leaving. takeout containers on the coffee table. tv playing softly. your legs thrown over his while he scrolls through random videos
— acts completely normal the morning he leaves but holds your hand a little tighter right before he has to let go
during tour boyfriend!yoongi :(
— terrible texter during busy days but sends random messages at like 3am because that’s when he finally slows down enough to miss you properly
— the type to send pictures with zero explanation : blurry studio setups. late night ramen cups. city lights outside hotel windows
— facetimes you while laying in bed half asleep, voice rough and quiet because he’s too tired to pretend he isn’t exhausted
— honestly misses silence with you the most. just existing in the same room without pressure to talk
— sends short voice notes instead of paragraphs. little “heard this and thought of u” messages attached to unfinished demos or songs he’s working on
— definitely falls asleep with the tv running in hotel rooms because complete silence feels too empty without you there
— when he misses you really badly he gets clingier in subtle ways :( answering your texts faster, staying on calls longer, asking what you’re doing every hour
— secretly rereads your messages before concerts sometimes because they calm him down more than he’ll ever admit
— acts like tour is just work to him but quietly tells you one night that every hotel starts feeling the same after a while
after tour boyfriend!yoongi :)
— coming home with him feels calm :) no dramatic entrance. just him dropping his bags, pulling you into his chest, and staying there for a long moment like he finally relaxed
— immediately changes into comfortable clothes and settles beside you on the couch like he’s reclaiming his spot again
— domestic affection with him is quiet but constant after tour :) forehead kisses while passing by, hand resting on your knee, pulling you against his side while watching movies
— absolutely the type to stand in the kitchen late at night eating snacks with you while talking softly about random things he thought about during tour
— loves the peaceful parts of being home most : hearing you in another room while he works, falling asleep beside you, rainy mornings where neither of you has to be anywhere
— starts bringing you into his studio more after tour because he missed your presence there while he was away
— spends the first few nights back sleeping deeper than he did the entire tour because being beside you finally lets his body relax again
— after tour he loves you in an even quieter way. comfortable. steady. like home became less about a place and more about wherever you are
Perm taglist : @kimmynammy @celliez @alphabetically-deranged @m4aimm @raceme2hell @bo-rimmy @mustanggbabyy @divakoo (comment or ask to be added)
Disclaimer: This is a dark fiction that includes heavy themes and adult content. Do not read if you feel uncomfortable with such topics. You are responsible for your media consumption. Please read with caution!
Chapter 1 - The Fansign
Chapter 2 - Where mistakes lead
Chapter 3 - Warning bells
Chapter 4 - Morning after
Chapter 5 - The softness of chains
Chapter 6 - The damage of gentle hands
Chapter 7 - Punishment
Chapter 8 - Cracks
Chapter 9 - The cruelty of kindness
Chapter 10 - Permanent
Chapter 11 - Bargaining
Chapter 12 - Terms and conditions
Chapter 13 - The shape of a cage
Chapter 14 - Normal
Chapter 15 - What was never spoken aloud
Chapter 16 - The note
Chapter 17 - Choices and Consequences
Chapter 18 - Beyond the gates
Chapter 19 - The stranger within
Chapter 20 - Blurred lines
Chapter 21 - An honest lie
Chapter 22 - Purple
Chapter 23 -
Chapter 24 -
Chapter 25 -
Chapter 26 -
Chapter 27 -
bf! Yoongi, who supports you by default. Your cold toes wiggle under his calf, shocking him since he’d been lying in bed, cozy, hours before you finally decided to join him. You mumble a sleepy apology, ready to move back, but he’s already pulling you closer.
“C’mere,” he mumbles softly, tucking your head into the crook of his neck; your nose is just as cold as your toes when you brush along the curve of his throat, and he suppresses the shiver climbing up his spine in response. Instead, he pulls you even closer, giving you his body heat as you snuggle deeper into him with a dreamy smile.
bf! Yoongi moves quietly. He doesn’t have this need to constantly tell you, “I love you.” He shows it’s when you get home from work, heading to his place because it’s closer, and you were missing him more than usual.
You all but melt into a puddle the moment you step inside his apartment. Your jacket fell to the floor right after you took your shoes off one by one, and you found Yoongi sitting on his couch, less than three seconds after you made a noise of greeting at the front door.
You’re too tired to converse and curl into his side, blinking glossy-eyed up at your man as he takes your hand in his. He intertwines his fingers with yours and sits with you in silence, rubbing your head with one hand as you curl into his lap with a soft sigh, finally relaxing because you're home.
bf! Yoongi doesn’t say he misses you outwardly. Instead, you get a message every few hours asking if you have eaten or drunk enough water today. Eventually, it’s too much for him, and he FaceTimes you when he knows you're home.
He doesn’t speak right away once you answer; his eyes flicker over your face as a little smile twitches on the corner of his lips, getting a good look at you for the first time today. Then he tries to act casual, claiming he wanted to show you some hobbies he’s picked up while away for work.
He shows you a guitar he bought, a cat figurine that looks like Tang, and as he tries to find more things to talk about to stay on FaceTime with you, you’re settling in bed, smiling, because you missed him too.
bf! Yoongi drags his fingers over your body with soft swirls, ghosting over every dip and curve. He maps out from the top of your head, massaging your scalp in smooth carresses that leave you plaint and humming. Then he trails lower, brushing over the slope of your nose, your eyelids, your lips- leaving them tingling while he traces down your neck absentmindedly.
The hum of the air conditioning is the only noise in the room, mixing with your soft breaths and his deep ones, the longer you two lie here. His fingertips swirl in curves, then lines, keeping you balanced between the edge of sleep and feeling more alive in his hands.
Sometimes, when you focus too much on the drawings he makes, you decode messages he tells you against your skin. "I love you" is a favorite of his, and he writes it the most in big loops and deeper pressure, like he's trying to engrave it into your bones in case you somehow don't know it already.
SUMMARY … you’ve known yoongi since college—intimately. before the ego and his annoying persona switch. but if he wants to play, fine, you’ll play. it’s your game, and you never lose.
NOTES / WARNINGS … NSFW, MDNI (18+). there are two smut scenes. the first one is oral (m!recieving) and the second is unprotected p in v—also featuring semi-public(? in a sense) sex, oral fixation!reader, andd tattoos. kind of brat!reader x brat tamer!yoongi? jealousyy there is also a lot of jealousy. alcohol use and swearing. suggestive content outside the smut. kind of also reader x hoseok but in the sense she uses hoseok to make yoongi jealous. these two are TOXIC they are not good for each other at all. and i thinkk that’s everything!! if i missed anything let me know <33
ANDDD a super duper special thank you to aqua @glossdebut and april @ggukivrse for beta reading this for me!!!
playlist : sex with me (rihanna). wild thoughts (dj khaled). candy (doja cat). killshot (magdalena bay). crazy girls (toopoor). often (the weeknd). heartbeat (childish gambino). buttons (pussy cat dolls). they wanna fuck (kim petras). nasty (tinashe).
main masterlist. next >
you hate new year’s eve parties.
there was a time you liked the noise and the drinks and the excuse to stay out too late, but that time feels distant now. instead of standing on your friend’s balcony with champagne and fireworks, you let yourself be dragged to a college-but-not party by a guy you’ve fucked with a couple of times.
he’s fine, even if a bit eager, and it’s not like you had better plans.
now you’re stuck on the edge of a cracked couch, a paper straw between your lips and cheap seltzer going flat in your mouth. someone yells from the balcony—ten minutes to midnight.
the guy beside you cheers, his arm heavy over your shoulders. you smile, because it’s easier than shoving him off you, and you take another sip of your drink.
you already know you’re not kissing him tonight.
he’ll try when the countdown starts. he’ll lean in, close enough that it almost hurts when you turn your head at the last second. just enough to remind yourself you still can.
he isn’t the worst. he buys you drinks, and he talks about you when he thinks you’re not listening. he’s new, and you haven’t decided yet if that means anything or how long you’re going to keep him around.
you drain the rest of your cup and stand.
“gonna grab another,” you say.
he grins and doesn’t follow.
the kitchen is brighter than the rest of the apartment. the overhead lights hum, counters crowded with half-empty bottles and a bowl of limes that have gone soft around the edges.
you rinse your cup and fill it again—vodka and soda. the same as always. you take a sip and it tastes like nothing.
and it isn’t just the party.
you think about how often you’ve stood like this lately, drink in hand, nodding along to conversations you don’t care about. rooftop bars. cramped apartments. birthdays you barely remember. smiling when it’s expected, staying just long enough to be seen.
you stay in the kitchen longer than you need to.
you think about tomorrow. about the early train and the elevator ride up to an office that smells of burnt, week-old instant coffee. about emails waiting in your inbox, flagged and tediously long and all somehow urgent. you’ll answer them quickly, you always do.
your job looks good on paper. decent title, better pay than you expected right out of college. your parents like telling people about it. your friends joke that you’ve made it.
most days, you’re coordinating calendars. smoothing egos. making sure the right people are in the right rooms at the right time. you know how to dress for it now, neutral colors and clean lines, hair pulled back so no one has to wonder if you’re serious.
this was supposed to be the trade-off. you wanted to like parties like this because they weren’t work. because no one needed anything from you here. no schedules to manage, no conversations to steer. just noise and bodies and a drink in your hand.
instead, you’re checking your phone.
your friend sends a video—fireworks bursting bright over the city and champagne glasses clinking in the frame, everyone laughing too loud. you watch it twice before locking your screen.
then you catch him in your periphery.
dark hair first. longer than the last time you saw him, falling into his eyes. he’s leaning against the doorway between rooms, one shoulder to the wall, posture easy in a way that feels new.
yoongi.
of course he’s here.
you don’t think, you just move, confidence sliding back into place like it never left. you angle yourself into his line of sight and say his name like it’s casual.
“yoongi, hey.”
his eyes lift, pausing. then they soften, just a little.
“hey,” he says back, slow.
you lean in, close enough to smell something sweet and sharp. you glance at his drink and smirk. “didn’t peg you for a moscato guy.”
his mouth twitches. “it’s not mine.”
that’s when she speaks.
“he’s holding it for me.”
you blink and look to his other side.
she’s pressed pretty close, hand looped around his wrist, nails painted dark. pretty, in an effortless way. she meets your eyes with a polite smile that lingers a beat too long.
something tightens low in your stomach.
oh.
yoongi shifts then, just slightly, fully aware of the change in the air—and you can tell he’s enjoying it more than you appreciate. his arm stays where it is. he doesn’t pull away, doesn’t explain.
“right,” you say, sweet. “my bad.”
his gaze doesn’t leave your face. there’s amusement there. something sharper underneath. oh, he knows exactly what he’s doing.
“you good?” he asks, voice mild.
you tilt your head, letting your eyes drag over him slow and unapologetic. “always.”
he hums like he doesn’t believe you.
the girl’s fingers tighten around his wrist. she leans in closer, like she’s staking a claim. you clock it immediately. something sharp flickers behind your eyes and you turn to her with a smile that’s all teeth.
“you know,” you say lightly, voice smooth as spilled liquor, “the kitchen’s brighter if you’re trying to find a clean glass. less… crowded.”
she blinks and laughs, a little unsure. “i’m good.”
“are you?” you ask, still smiling. “because it kind of looks like you’re waiting for something that’s not happening.”
silence stretches, and yoongi exhales through his nose.
she lets go of his wrist, lips pressing thin. her eyes flick back to you, annoyed and embarrassed. “wow,” she mutters. “okay. didn’t realize.”
you shrug. “it’s a common mistake.”
she leaves without another word, disappearing into the living room and out the door a minute later. the space she vacates feels louder than the music.
yoongi turns to you slowly. he doesn’t look angry. if anything, he looks inconvenienced.
“you done?” he asks.
you laugh under your breath. “did you not see the way she was clinging to you?”
“mm,” he says. “and?”
“since when are you fucking other people?” it slips out sharper than you mean it to.
yoongi’s mouth quirks. “you just scared off my night,” he says after a moment.
you meet his gaze, pulse ticking up despite yourself. “you’ll survive.”
yoongi tips his head, brow half lifted. “you gonna make it up to me?”
you snort. “for what? your dick not getting wet?”
“i was working on it.”
“should’ve worked harder.”
yoongi laughs to himself, shaking his head in disbelief. “oh, you’re cute.”
your lips press flat, arms crossing over your chest as you level him with a look. “cute? you’re so gross.”
“you didn’t have to do that,” he says.
“didn’t want to watch you pretend you were interested,” you shoot back. “it was embarrassing.”
he tilts his head, eyes flicking over you like he’s cataloguing something. “so. what dick brought you here?”
you scoff, a soft sound that barely cuts through the music. “wow. straight to it, huh?”
young shrugs, casual. “just curious. figured someone had to drag you out.”
“maybe i came on my own.”
“please.” he snorts. “you hate parties.”
“i hate bad parties.”
“answer the question.”
you roll your eyes, turning your cup in your hand. “does it matter?”
“a little.”
you look at him then, at the way his mouth is already half-curved, irritating and all too familiar. annoying in the way only he ever manages.
“some guy from work,” you say. “happy?”
“thrilled,” he replies flatly. then, after a beat, “he still here?”
“i don’t know.”
his eyes flick past you, scanning the room. “you ditch him?”
“i didn’t ditch him,” you say, eyes fixed on the swirl at the bottom of your cup. “i just decided to explore. party’s not that big.”
yoongi grunts, gaze flicking over you, quick and sharp. “didn’t think you got bored that fast.”
“wasn’t bored,” you say with pause, pressing your lips together—lie. “didn’t want to sit around and watch the clock with someone who can’t hold a conversation.”
his mouth quirks. “must be tough. all that effort for nothing.”
“hardly.” you shift your weight, scanning the counter for something better to do with your hands. “can’t say i’m missing much.”
the corner of yoongi’s mouth lifts again, barely there. “so what, you need a midnight kiss now?”
you don’t bother looking at him. “i’d rather fuck a cactus.”
“harsh.”
you swirl the ice in your cup, tapping it against the counter. “don’t see you lining up for anything better.”
he leans in, voice dropping low. “don’t have to. there’s always someone.”
“congrats,” you say, rolling your eyes. “hope she gives you a rash.”
he laughs under his breath, soft and unbothered. “jealousy’s not a good look on you.”
jealous? jealous? what does he think you have to be jealous of? the fact that he’s fucking? well, that’s good for him—shameless, and kind of blatant, but good for him. you don’t need to be jealous. you’ve got others. you’ve always had others. the only reason you fucked yoongi in the first place was because he was a stupid loser with a big dick and—
“hit a nerve?”
your jaw tics, teeth pressed tight, but you school your expression easy. “you wish.”
yoongi’s gaze lingers, all patience and slow calculation. “you’re the one getting defensive.”
you shrug, casual, bored. “just tired of hearing you talk out of your ass.”
he smirks, eyes drifting lazy down your face. “could’ve fooled me.”
you laugh, short and cold. “it’s cute you think i care. seriously.”
yoongi pushes off the counter, mouth pulling into that crooked, half-bored smile. “think i’ll go find myself a midnight kiss, then.”
you lift your chin, unbothered. “go wild. i’m gonna find a cactus.”
he huffs, something almost like a laugh slipping out. “let me know how that works out.”
“don’t wait up,” you say, already turning toward the fridge for something stronger.
he lingers for a beat, eyes focusing on you a little too long, then heads out, disappearing back into the noise and bodies.
you watch his retreating figure, stubbornness burning hot under your skin. fine. if he wants to play that game, you can play it too. you leave the kitchen, shoving your empty cup into a trash bag on the way out.
you don’t bother searching. you aren’t looking for anyone in particular, just someone to keep your hands busy, your mind even busier.
it’s then you spot hoseok, head thrown back in laughter and a hand curled around a half-finished drink. he doesn’t see you right away, too caught up in someone else’s joke.
you met hoseok through yoongi in college—some house party, someone’s birthday, you don’t remember the details. he was easy to fall in with, and even easier to keep around. he was your main fuck for a while, reliable and always down for whatever. no questions, no drama, nothing complicated.
recently though, it’s been quieter. your messages thin, late replies, you making up excuses to cancel plans you used to agree to in excess. not that it matters. hoseok always understood how things worked, how you worked. if you needed something, he was there. if you didn’t, he faded easy, no pressure.
you cut across the room, weaving through clusters of strangers until you’re standing close enough to hoseok to smell the gin on his breath and the salt on his skin. he catches your eye and grins, wide and easy, already reading your intentions.
“hey, stranger,” he says, voice pitched low enough for only you. his hand finds your hip without missing a beat, thumb rubbing circles through the fabric.
you tip your chin up, lips brushing close to his ear. “miss me?”
hoseok laughs, all teeth, the sound vibrating against your throat when you press in. “thought you were too busy for me these days.”
“i make time for the important things.” your fingers trail down his chest, slow and obvious, letting him know exactly what you’re after.
he hums, eyes glinting. “you want to get out of here or…?”
you lean in, breath hot against his jaw. “or.”
your eyes flick over hoseok’s shoulder, scanning the room for a flash of dark hair. just checking, curious if he’s paying attention.
hoseok’s hand slides bolder under your shirt, thumb tracing heat along your skin. you let him, lean into it, but your gaze still wanders, restless.
“hey,” you murmur, dragging your mouth up to his ear, “you want to be my midnight kiss?”
“midnight kiss?” he echoes, voice low. “thought you’d never ask.”
you smile, slow and wicked, nails digging into his side. “don’t insult me.”
you catch him across the room, half-shadowed with a girl tucked against his side. his gaze drifts, just for a second, before it lands on you. and it stays there.
you keep your eyes locked on yoongi, then, slow, you drag your tongue up the side of hoseok’s neck. hoseok shudders, his grip tightening, a curse falling hot against your ear.
yoongi doesn’t move. his mouth twitches into a sharp almost-smile. the girl at his side says something, tugging at his sleeve, but he barely looks at her.
hoseok leans in, pressing his mouth to your jaw, hungry and eager, but you barely register it. your attention stays on yoongi, letting the moment stretch until satisfaction curls cold and sweet in your chest.
someone shouts from the kitchen room—ten, nine, eight. voices tangle together, filling the apartment, the countdown swelling until it drowns out the music.
hoseok’s hand curls tighter around your waist. you tilt your head, let your hair fall just right, gaze slipping back to yoongi. he hasn’t moved, the girl still pressed against his side, her hand on his chest, lips already pouting in expectation.
seven, six, five.
yoongi’s eyes are locked on you. you can feel it, the dare humming between bodies and distance. you arch closer to hoseok, fingers sliding through his hair.
four, three, two.
hoseok grins, warm and eager, hands everywhere. you drop yoongi’s gaze, and then you kiss hoseok—slow and filthy, a show you know isn’t subtle. his mouth is eager, all tongue and teeth. you moan into it, letting him take.
one.
across the room, yoongi finally looks away, mouth a flat line, ignoring the girl tugging at his sleeve. you feel something twist sharp and mean in your chest. you pull hoseok in again, chasing the taste of victory. he can’t win your game.
the party’s thinned out by now, the edge of a smirk still settled on your lips. hoseok is gone, off to find another drink or maybe another mouth. it doesn’t matter anyway, you got what you wanted.
you check your phone. three missed messages, a blurry group photo, someone’s number you don’t recognize. you slide it away, half-bored, still glowing with the satisfaction that’s been sitting warm in your chest since midnight.
you turn toward the door, but yoongi’s there already, silent, blocking your exit. his jaw is set, lips pursed, and the look in his eyes does little to douse the smug fire in your chest.
he leans in, voice pitched low. “you think you’re cute?”
you let the silence hang for a beat, obnoxiously, then flash him a smug, deliberate smile. “i know i am.”
he studies you, eyes sweeping over your swollen lips and the mark hoseok left on your neck. “that supposed to make me jealous?”
you just shrug, lazy, the victory still sharp in your mouth. “doesn’t matter. was fun for me.”
yoongi’s lips twitch, something sharp and mocking underneath. “real cute,” he says, voice rough. “thought you were leaving with hoseok.”
you slide your phone into your pocket, eyes never leaving his. “didn’t come with him. why would i leave with him?”
he steps closer, gaze dropping, lingering where hoseok’s hands had been. “hm. you showed up tonight planning to get fucked, though.”
heat curls up your spine, but you don’t look away. “never had any trouble in that area.”
yoongi leans in, breath warm against your cheek. “you owe me, remember,” he says, voice quiet but certain. he tips his head toward the darkened hallway, the hush of a bedroom just out of sight.
you snort, mouth twitching. “i don’t owe you shit.”
his smile sharpens. “no?” he murmurs, hand sliding to your jaw, grip steady. “you didn’t scare off my girl? didn’t kiss hoseok desperately trying to get my attention?”
you open your mouth, ready with another smart remark, but his thumb slips past your lips, pressing down on your tongue and shutting you up in an instant.
his gaze doesn’t waver, pupils blown wide and his eyes fixed on yours. “you gonna brat or you gonna listen?” he asks, tone flat. “nod if you want to pay what you owe. shake your head if you’d rather leave.”
you nod, slow and sure, mouth still wrapped around his thumb.
his mouth curls, low and dangerous. “good girl,” yoongi murmurs, voice barely a whisper. “follow me.”
he turns, and you trail after him down the hall, pulse tapping sharp at your throat. he pushes open the door to a darkened room, barely flicking on the lamp before glancing back at you.
you step inside, glancing around. “do you even know whose bed this is?”
“spare room,” he says, jaw tight, hands already at your hips.
you raise a brow, leaning into the challenge. “oh yeah? and how would you know?”
yoongi’s grip tightens, pulling you closer. “shut the fuck up,” he growls, voice rough at the edges, “and put that mouth to better use.”
one hand slides up to tangle in your hair, gentle only in the way he guides you down, the other reaching back to close the door with a dull click.
you let your knees hit the carpet, back straight and hands braced at your thighs. there’s a familiar ache in the way you look up at him, chest rising and lips parted, his gaze dropping heavy.
he’s always looked good from this angle. a little too composed at first, but it never lasts. it never takes long to have him coming undone for you, losing that careful control to make way for something raw.
his fingers tighten just enough to send a pulse through your scalp, tilting your head so your eyes stay on him. you watch the way he breathes, the way his jaw flexes.
your hand slides up, fingers curling around his belt. before you can even start to undo it, yoongi swats your hand away, sharp.
“use your teeth,” he says, voice low and mocking.
you snort. “fuck no.”
his mouth quirks, all challenge. “what, can’t handle it? thought you were good with your mouth.”
you glare, but you lean in anyway, teeth scraping along the leather, fumbling with the buckle.
yoongi’s laugh is quiet and smug, the sound vibrating in the air above you. “struggling?” he teases. “don’t tell me you’re giving up already.”
you huff, glaring up at him, but the belt doesn’t budge. he watches for another moment, savoring it, then reaches down with a hand to unfasten the metal with a quiet click. the leather slides loose with a whisper, and his pants drop not long after.
“knew you couldn’t do it,” he murmurs, looking down at you. “good thing you’re better at other things.”
his hand returns to your hair, a firmer grip this time, guiding your mouth where he wants it. “open up, brat. show me what you’re actually good for.”
you bite down on a smirk, letting your lips brush along the waistband of his underwear, slow and taunting. yoongi’s fingers flex in your hair, a low warning thrumming through his touch.
you drag the band down, teeth scraping lightly at his hip, letting the elastic snap back against his skin. he groans, low and impatient, hips shifting forward. it’s a little clumsy, mouth brushing his skin as you work the fabric. the head of his cock springs free, flushed and already leaking, heavy against his thigh.
you glance up, lashes fluttering, all innocent. “thought you’d liked it if i’m thorough. you know, take my time.”
his grip tightens, guiding your head closer. “i like it better when you do as you’re told.”
you ignore him, lips ghosting feather-light over his cock. you flick your tongue out, kitten licking at the tip, catching the bead of precum and swirling it across the sensitive head. your lips follow, pressing soft, open-mouthed kisses down his shaft, pausing to suck lightly at the base before trailing back up.
yoongi’s jaw tightens, a curse slipping out between clenched teeth. “stop teasing, or i’ll fuck your throat ‘til you cry.”
you hum, lips curling against his skin. “maybe that’s what i want.”
yoongi’s mouth twists, dark with challenge. “if you won’t do it, i’ll just find someone who will.”
that snaps something hot and mean inside you. before he can even finish, you dig your nails into his thigh, glare burning up at him. “shut up,” you bite out, voice low.
your lips part and you take him in, no teasing now. you choke a little, jaw aching, spit already pooling at the corners of your mouth. his hand stays heavy in your hair, the sharp edge of his threat making you work harder, desperate to wipe that smug look off his face.
he hisses, hips twitching, the arrogance faltering as you suck him down again and again, tongue pressing along the vein at the underside.
“fuck—there you go,” he groans, voice rough and wild. “knew you just needed some encouragement. such a good fucking girl.”
you hum, messy and open, spit slicking his cock, eyes locked on his as you swallow him whole.
you take him deep, nose pressing flush to his curls, trimmed and soft against your face, his cock heavy and hot at the back of your throat. yoongi’s head falls back, a ragged groan torn free as you swallow around him, letting him feel every squeeze and drag.
yoongi’s voice drops, thick and rough. “fuck. filthy little thing. look at you, desperate for cock, making a mess on my dick.”
you pull back just enough for air, spit stringing between your lips and his flushed head. then you suck him in again, messy and wet, tongue working him over. your hands grip his thighs, nails biting, using the leverage to take him even deeper the next time, choking a little.
his hand stays heavy in your hair, guiding. “knew you’d shut up when you had something better to do with that bratty mouth,” he grits out. “keep going. show me how much you love being used.”
your jaw aches but you don’t stop, locked in, spit dribbling down your chin as you take him again and again.
yoongi swears again, voice cracked open and desperate now. “gonna make me cum if you keep—fuck, keep doing that—”
your nails dig into his skin, and you take him even deeper, the tip hitting the back of your throat again and again until your eyes sting. every time you come up for breath, it’s just enough to spit on the head and swallow him all over again, more vicious than before.
yoongi’s breath starts to hitch, hips jerking just slightly despite the way his hand clenches tight in your hair, trying to ground himself. his head tips back again, throat working around a groan, voice low and ragged. “fuck—don’t stop. don’t fucking stop—”
then he goes still.
his cock twitches against your tongue, lips parting around a soft, choked sound when it hits. he cums with a broken groan, hot and thick against the back of your throat. his hand holds you there, buried deep, your nose pressed to his pelvis as you swallow around it
yoongi’s whole body shudders.
you pull back only when you’re sure he’s spent, lips swollen and chin wet, the taste of him still heavy on your tongue. he looks down at you, eyes glassy, and for a second, he doesn’t say anything.
then, hoarse and wrecked, he exhales: “fuck.”
yoongi runs a hand through his hair, chest still rising hard with each breath, then calmly reaches down and pulls his pants up.
you wipe your mouth with the back of your hand, still on your knees, watching him with narrowed eyes.
he glances down at you, belt hanging loose in his hand. “well,” he says, tilting his head. “looks like you paid what you owed.”
your brows pull together, mouth tugging into a sour twist. “fuck off.”
yoongi just grins, eyes gleaming with victory. “if you want me to fuck you, all you have to do is ask.”
your stare sharpens. you don’t move. don’t give him anything.
he shrugs like it’s nothing. “nah? too proud?” he clicks his tongue once, backing toward the door, still buckling his belt. “then good luck finding your dick of the night.”
he opens the door, glancing back just once.
“hope he knows what he’s doing.”
and then he’s gone, leaving you there, flushed and pissed and entirely ready to kill him the next time you see his stupid face.
you show up to work the next day moody, a headache already pulsing behind your eyes before you’ve even made it through the revolving doors. your heels feel too loud against the marble floor, the fluorescent lighting a personal attack.
jen spots you immediately, holding a takeaway cup and leaning against the security desk with the kind of posture that suggests she didn’t spend the night getting drunk, throat-fucked and then subsequently emotionally whiplashed.
“yikes,” she says with a grin, eyes raking over your face.
“that generous?” you mutter, pulling your lanyard out of your bag and flashing your badge to the scanner.
she falls in step beside you as you head for the elevators. “so? how was it? the party? the new year? did you make out with anyone worth remembering or…?”
you press the button, eyes fixed ahead. “i’m hoping it’s not an indication of how the rest of my year is going to go.”
jen lets out a low whistle. “wow. that bad?”
you don’t answer. the elevator dings open. and thankfully, for now, she doesn’t push.
she’s always been good at that, knowing when to dig and when to leave you alone. you don’t have it in you to rehash the night, not when your stomach still twists just thinking about it.
the hangover’s bad, but the mood’s worse.
you’d already left the party pissed, but what made it worse was the message. the first one you’d gotten from him in ages. no “did you get home?” no “still mad?” not even a meme or a fuck you.
well, it was a fuck you.
a picture, his back in the frame, caught in a mirror selfie. red scratch marks dragged down his skin in angry, scored lines.
no text. didn’t need any.
your stomach had dropped when you opened it, the kind of petty, sharp twist that left your chest hot and your throat dry. it wasn’t jealousy. it wasn’t. it was the fact that he knew exactly what it would do to you, and he’d done it anyway.
fucking prick.
the elevator doors ding open. you blink against the light and step out with jen, trying to pull yourself together before anyone else in the office can clock your sour state.
she glances sideways at you, sipping her coffee. “we should do something fun after work. alcohol-free, i promise.”
you raise a brow, skeptical.
“there’s some grunge thing happening at the rec tonight. underground gig, shitty lighting, probably smells like sweat and weed. could be fun.”
you grunt. “i just want to get through the day without stabbing anyone.”
jen hums, completely unbothered. “okay, fair.”
you think that’s the end of it, but as you swipe your badge at the office door, she adds, sing-song: “you don’t really have a choice, though.”
you shoot her a look.
she smiles sweetly, already halfway down the hallway. “i’m texting you the details. wear something cute.”
you don’t break stride. “bite me.”
she just laughs, disappearing down the hall.
you round the corner and head toward your desk, just trying to keep your head down. but of course, life has other intentions.
“morning!” bright-eyed and eager—jeon jungkook, your intern.
“morning,” you say, clipped but polite.
“you look, uh, nice today,” he says, grin a little too hopeful.
“thanks,” you nod, eyes already scanning the desk behind him. “do you have the file i requested ready for the client handover?”
he blinks, faltering for a second before recovering. “almost! just need to double check the last couple of—”
“cool,” you say, walking past him without breaking stride. “get it to me before eleven.”
you don’t look back. he’s sweet, or whatever. maybe if it were a different morning, you’d indulge the attention. flirt back, have a little fun. but today? today you don’t have it in you.
you reach your desk, drop into your chair, and stare at your monitor.
god. you need caffeine. or a lobotomy. whatever works faster.
you power on your computer with a sigh, the screen flickering to life while your inbox refreshes in a sluggish crawl. emails pile in—flagged, urgent, cc’d unnecessarily—none of them worth the mounting ache in your temples.
you reach for the pen on your desk, pop the cap off with your teeth, and leave it there, balanced between your lips as your fingers start working the keyboard.
you know you should focus. know there are reports due and a client call at noon, and your calendar’s already booked solid with back-to-back meetings you barely remember accepting.
but you’re mad. you’re mad and it sits under your skin like a slow burn.
the cursor blinks on your screen. the spreadsheet refuses to load fast enough. you chew on the pen cap harder, jaw tense, hand clenched around your mouse like it personally wronged you.
does yoongi think he’s better than you or something?
because he’s not.
not with his smug little text. not with scratch marks down his back like he’s so fucking proud of being someone else’s temporary distraction like it makes him special.
it doesn’t.
he’s still the same yoongi from college. same one who’d drop everything at a text. the one who’d show up at 2am with a pack of marlboros and a condom just because you sent “u up?” and a half-assed location pin. just because he’s got game now doesn’t change that.
not the chain around his neck, or the girls in gloss shirts clawing at his back like it means something. he’s not better than you.
you bite down harder on the pen cap, that familiar heat creeping back up your neck, something hot and bruising under your ribs. you click through another tab, jaw tight, pretending the sharp taste in your mouth is caffeine withdrawal. not jealousy. never jealousy.
you try to sneak off after work without running into jen. you love her, you do. she’s been your work wife since day two. but tonight you could do with quiet. no crowd, no fake grunge scene, no well-meaning questions about what happened at the party last night?
“where do you think you’re going?”
you hear jen before you even see her, voice cutting clean through the after-work shuffle as you make a beeline for the lobby doors.
you pick up your pace.
“hey—hey!” she calls, heels clicking faster against tile as she hurries to catch up. “don’t think i didn’t see that weak little speed-walk. you trying to ditch me?”
you sigh, defeated, turning just enough to glance back. “i wasn’t—”
“great. so we’re on for tonight,” jen says cheerfully. “i’ll come to yours to get ready.”
your brow pulls. “what about your car?”
“took an uber.”
you stare. “why?”
“my fiancé has the car,” jen says, shrugging casually.
your face twists. “he doesn’t have his own?”
“he’s working on it,” she replies, a little too quickly.
you scoff. “right. just like he’s working on getting a job. and working on applying to uni. and working on figuring out what the fuck he’s doing with his life.”
jen exhales through her nose, already regretting mentioning it.
“when does it end?” you ask, half-laughing. “car? working on it. career? working on it. higher education? not in the cards, but always a possibility. what are you dating, a project with no deadline?”
“okay,” jen mutters, pulling her coat tighter. “tonight isn’t about our love lives.”
you raise a brow.
“it’s not!” she insists, bumping her shoulder into yours. “it’s about two best friends, dressing hot, doing eyeliner in bad lighting, and having a night for themselves.”
you give her a look, skeptical with your lips pressed thin, but you don’t argue.
because yeah. maybe she’s right. maybe tonight shouldn’t be about your love lives.
especially not yours.
you’re not willing to dissect that in the car on the way to a DIY punk show with a girl who still calls her fiancé’s unemployment a “path into self-discovery.”
so instead, you let her bump your shoulder again, this time with a grin, and you exhale through your nose in something that might resemble a laugh.
“fine,” you mutter. “bad lighting, bad eyeliner, no feelings.”
“no feelings,” jen agrees, holding up a pinky like you’re two girls in high school.
you roll your eyes but hook yours with hers anyway. “we’re gonna regret this.”
“absolutely,” she says, already climbing into the passenger seat. “but at least we’ll be hot about it.”
your place is quiet when you arrive, walking into the dim lighting. the walls are clean, the furniture modern, the view wide and glittering from the floor-to-ceiling windows. a little too clean to feel lived in, but it’s home. or close enough.
“ugh,” jen groans dramatically, kicking off her boots by the door. “i forgot how much i love your place.”
you set your keys down on the kitchen counter, unwrapping your scarf. “one day you’ll have one of your own.”
“please.” she flops onto the sectional, limbs everywhere. “there’s no way i’m climbing any ladder. not unless the ladder’s attached to a sugar daddy’s yacht.”
you snort, pulling open the fridge to grab a seltzer. “maybe your fiancé will help you climb.”
“yeah,” she calls, already scrolling through something on her phone. “if it’s one of those ladders that’s missing half the rungs and wobbles when you step on it.”
you hum, sipping slowly as you lean against the counter. outside, the city glows faint and hazy, a view you still haven’t gotten used to. you don’t say anything for a second, just watch the lights.
“he’ll figure it out,” you say eventually, neutral.
jen laughs, dry and fond. “you’re a terrible liar.”
you both laugh. it echoes through the apartment, warm against the polished tile and glass.
“alright,” jen says, sitting up with a dramatic sigh, “show me to the glam station. i’m about to bless the public with my presence.”
you roll your eyes and start toward your bedroom. “you don’t even have a change of clothes.”
“that’s because,” she says, already trailing after you, “i’m gonna be raiding your closet.”
you glance back, dry. “of course you are.”
“duh. you’re the one with cut v-necks and slutty miniskirts. i’m just here to accessorize.”
you gesture toward the wardrobe, stepping aside. “go nuts. just don’t touch the leather pants.”
jen’s already digging, gleeful. “oh, honey. those are exactly what i’m touching.”
you groan and grab your makeup bag, dragging it onto the vanity with the resigned air of someone who knows they’ve already lost this round.
“loud night and sexy clothes,” jen sing-songs.
“no feelings,” you mutter back, pulling out your eye liner pencil and uncapping it with your teeth.
you’re both standing in your bedroom now, surrounded by open drawers and half-zipped makeup bags. the bluetooth speaker hums with bass from someone who probably peaked in 2016, and you’re working your eyeliner on autopilot, head tilted toward the mirror and mouth slack.
jen’s seated cross-legged on the floor, still rifling through your tops like she pays rent. “okay,” she says, holding one up, “this or the mesh one?”
you squint. “mesh.”
“bless.”
she tosses the other aside and starts peeling off her sweater. you glance back at her, brow lifted. “no shame, huh?”
“none,” she says, unbothered.
you shake your head, grin tugging at your mouth despite everything.
the prep unfolds in pieces. lipsticks swatched on the back of your hand, jen cursing because she forgot her mascara and using yours like it’s not $60 a tube. her leaning in, helping you fix your wing without asking. you letting her.
it’s simple. and for the first time all day, your head stops spinning. the weight of all of it fades into the background hum of music and shitty banter.
“you done?” you ask, dabbing gloss on your lips.
jen gives herself a once-over in the mirror, then nods. “we look so good.”
you grab your coat. “good.”
you don’t say it, but tonight, you want to be hard to touch and harder to look away from. let someone else fall apart for once.
the rec smells like beer, sweat, and something that might be mildew but you’re too scared to confirm. the floor’s sticky, and there’s a questionable puddle by the entrance that you had to hop over just to keep your boots clean.
“why are we here,” you say flatly.
jen grins, unaffected, already bouncing on the balls of her feet. “because it’s gonna be fun.”
you squint. “define fun.”
“loud music, poor decisions, hot strangers—”
“you’re engaged.”
“you’re not,” she chirps.
you sigh, adjusting your jacket and scanning for the nearest exit in case you need to disappear mid-set. “what time does this start?”
jen checks her phone, thumbs flicking through a text. “five minutes.”
“cool.” you say it without inflection. not cool.
someone bumps into you with a plastic cup of warm beer, already slurring through their apology.
you look at jen again. she’s glowing. you are… not.
you’re halfway through mentally drafting your exit plan—blaming a stomach ache or a work thing, maybe a fake call from your boss—when you spot him.
“hoseok?”
he turns at the sound of your voice, already mid-laugh with someone you don’t recognize. his grin widens when he sees you, bright as ever. “no fucking way.”
you blink. “what are you doing here?”
“playing,” he says, casual. “we’re the gig.”
“what—seriously?”
“yeah.” he steps aside and gestures toward the stage, where namjoon’s fiddling with cables, sleeves pushed up, focused as hell. “gloss. remember?”
you shake your head, still a little stunned. “cool.”
then it hits you.
gloss is yoongi’s band. which means if gloss is here, yoongi is somewhere in this building.
your stomach flips.
you scan the crowd like it might spit him out at your feet. but all you get is bodies and flashing lights and the dull thump of the soundcheck.
you retreat, finding by the bar, mid-sip of something fluorescent and fizzy, talking to a guy in a fishnet shirt about which bands sound better live. you grab her arm without a word.
“we have to go,” you say, low and fast. “we have to go.”
she blinks, startled. “what? why?”
“because we do.”
“absolutely not.” she plants her feet. “we just got here. what’s got your panties so twisted?”
you freeze long enough for her to narrow her eyes, suspicious. but you school your face fast.
“nothing,” you lie. “it’s just—this venue’s gross.”
“oh, come on,” she groans. “you can survive one night. it’s not like we’re sleeping on the floor.”
you shift your weight, eyes scanning the crowd again. “i don’t want to be here.”
“you’re gonna feel different once the band starts,” she says, all smiles again. “they’re super cool. some indie group called gloss or something—”
“i know,” you snap before you can catch yourself.
jen pauses. eyebrows lift. “…do you? do you even know what it stands for?”
you blink. “what?”
“it stands for get loud or stay small, and they literally live in our city, which i personally think is totally cool—”
you cross your arms. “was this just an excuse to see them?”
her face goes very still for a half-second too long. then, “what? no!”
you narrow your eyes.
“i just—” she shrugs, sheepish. “i didn’t know they were playing until last night. figured it’d be fun.”
“right.”
you look away, jaw tight.
she’s still talking, still fanning herself over how hot the bassist is supposed to be—spoiler, that’s yoongi—but you’re already pissed all over again.
not just at her. at the fact that you came out tonight to forget about him, and instead you walked into his fucking stage.
“you okay?” jen asks, tone shifting a little.
you force a breath out through your nose. “i’m fine.”
“you sure? i mean—if you hate it, we can go. seriously.”
you look past her and toward the stage. the instruments are set, lights warming up, the crowd inching closer.
you swallow. “no. it’s fine.”
jen grins, unaware. “god, i’m so excited. i hope they play that one song that went semi-viral last year. you know, the one about getting fingered in a—”
you let out a sound that’s half laugh, half disbelief. “yeah. sure, just shut up.”
and then the lights go down and the crowd roars, and it’s too late to leave.
you don’t breathe.
four figures step out, one by one. first jin, then namjoon, then hoseok, and jen is squealing, clutching your arm while bouncing on her toes.
and last comes yoongi.
black shirt torn and distressed, a lazy hand wrapped around his mic. he doesn’t wave. doesn’t smile.
“we’re gloss,” he says, voice low and scratchy through the reverb. “let’s make tonight loud, yeah?”
the crowd screams louder. the drums kick in.
jen grabs your hand, dragging you toward the stage.
you let her, but you don’t pretend you’re here for the music. you don’t even pretend you’re here for the thrill.
the screaming is near-deafening.
a gaggle of girls beside you, all gloss-branded shirts and glitter gel eyeliner, bounce in synchrony, shrieking their names like they’re giving out backstage passes for each decibel. one of them cups her hands to her mouth, shouting “hoseok, i love you!” over the bassline.
you don’t roll your eyes, but it’s close.
instead, you lean in the direction of the stage. wait for just the right moment, when hoseok looks up, scanning the crowd with that wide, feral grin of his.
and then you blow him a kiss.
hoseok catches it mid-air like a cheeseball, pausing mid-riff, fingers curling around the phantom kiss before he winks. doesn’t even try to be subtle.
you smile sweetly at him. then, just to twist the knife, you turn to the girl beside you and wink at her too.
her jaw drops.
you shrug, giving her a faux pout before turning back to the stage.
the music isn’t bad, necessarily. you’ve just heard better. something about it feels try-hard in that post-ironic, “we’re too cool to care” way.
and the worst part?
yoongi.
because he’s not even pretending to take it seriously. lounging behind the keyboard like he’s at soundcheck, smirking every time one of his many fangirls screams his name. he tosses them winks and half-assed kissy faces.
then one of them flashes him.
you blink, then blink again, and watch as that stupid grin spreads across his face like he’s so proud of himself.
jen is too busy staring at hoseok to notice your jaw tighten. something has to be done.
your options are limited. the stage is barely elevated, the lighting is shit, and the air is heavy with sweat and vape clouds. but if yoongi gets to wink at every half-naked girl in the front row like he’s the second coming of trent reznor, you get to have your moment too.
you hook your thumbs into your waistband. just a little. just enough.
there’s a lull in the song—something atmospheric, the drums fading out and the guitar slowing to a thrum—and that’s when you do it.
tilt your hips, dip your fingers. drag the band of your jeans down just far enough to show off the ink that curls low beneath your navel.
something new. something he hasn’t seen.
you let the crowd swallow the moment, everyone too focused on jin’s voice to notice you pulling it taut, holding it, and then—
snap.
the waistband slaps back into place.
you don’t break eye contact.
yoongi does, just long enough to prove he saw and that it worked.
the set eventually ends, mercifully. jen’s still clapping, starry-eyed. you lean over, already pulling your phone from your back pocket.
“i’m gonna head out. you coming with?”
“oh.” she blinks, then glances around. “no, it’s okay, i’ll just uber home.”
“sure?” you ask, and you nod when she nods. “okay, cool.”
she hugs you tight and you squeeze her back, eyes already on the exit sign. you’re halfway toward it when—
“hey.”
you turn.
hoseok.
his skin’s glistening with leftover stage sweat, hair pushed back. there’s something magnetic about him when he’s like this, when his his adrenaline hasn’t quite faded and his pupils are still blown a little wide.
“wanna come chill backstage?” he asks, voice low and easy.
you raise a brow. “oh? like one of your groupies?”
he laughs, eyes crinkling. “don’t flatter yourself.”
you roll your eyes, but you’re still smiling, and you say yes. stupidly. because you’re still feeling smug and petty. might as well keep riding it.
the backstage room is cramped and noisy and hot, some folding chairs, half a couch and a mini fridge buzzing in the corner.
you step in behind hoseok, ducking your head a little when the crowd parts.
“guys,” he calls out, tossing his water bottle onto a crate, “brought a friend.”
“ohh,” jin drawls from the couch, broad-shouldered and messy-haired. he looks you over, smiling, eyes a little hazy. “so this is the one, huh?”
you blink. “i—sorry?”
“ignore him,” hoseok says. “jin’s like this with everyone.”
you nod politely. “hey. first time hearing you perform.”
“and?” he leans forward, chin in palm.
“music’s not really my thing,” you say flatly. “but the energy was good.”
he barks a laugh. “damn. brutal.”
you shrug.
joon’s in the corner, wiping down his drumsticks. he glances over and offers a nod. you return it—it’s familiar, even if not exactly warm. same major, different circles. his gaze lingers for a second before he goes back to his gear.
and then yoongi.
his back’s against the wall, legs crossed at the ankles, bottle of something brown dangling lazily from his fingers. there’s a towel slung around his neck, shirt damp with sweat. he doesn’t say anything when you enter, but his eyes track you, sharp and unreadable.
you pretend not to notice.
yoongi lets out a low whistle, head tilting as he eyes your jeans with a little too much interest.
“the ink. it new?” he mutters.
you shrug, turning slightly as if to better show it off. “got it a few months ago.”
“got another one?” hoseok asks, grin already widening.
you glance back at him over your shoulder, then hook your thumbs into the back of your waistband, tugging it down slow. “wanna see?”
yoongi shifts where he sits.
you tip your hips just enough to show the curve of another tattoo, stamped bold and permanent at the small of your back.
“matching set,” you hum. “cute, right?”
hoseok hums, eyes gleaming. “so fuckin’ cute.”
yoongi’s standing, casual and silent, but there’s something unreadable in the way he does it.
“let me show you around,” he says, and it’s not a request.
you blink, instantly resistant. “no, thanks.”
his brow quirks. a familiar twitch. you know that look—a small, warning reminder. you sigh, rolling your eyes. “fine. humor me.”
you trail after him, through a narrow hallway until it opens up into a cluttered back storage area. it’s barely lit, a speaker buzzing low overhead.
he doesn’t turn around when he speaks. “you get off on acting like a slut for my attention?”
you scoff. “nothing i ever do is for your attention.”
yoongi turns then, slow, eyes dragging up your body until they settle on your face.
“sure,” he murmurs. “that’s why you’re here tonight. just for fun. not for the attention.”
“yup.” your tone is deliberately flippant. you pop the ‘p’. “just for fun.”
he steps in closer. “you hate that i have other girls that much?” he asks, voice low.
your mouth curls, slow and lazy. “not at all. just thought your groupies could use a little education on how to be sexy with some decorum.”
yoongi huffs a laugh, amused almost. “right.”
his eyes drop down, hovering around your waistband. “wanna see it again.”
“what?” you ask sweetly, “the tattoo you were drooling over on stage?” your voice pitches mockingly higher. “you could just say you wanna fuck me, you know.”
he quirks a brow, expression hungry. “maybe i just wanna look.”
“maybe you should use your words then.”
his eyes flick up to yours, head tilting. “then pull your pants down, princess. let me look properly.”
you don’t move. you just stare, lashes slow as they blink. “you’re easy.”
yoongi scoffs. not offended, more amused if anything.
“i’m not easy,” he says, voice calm, unbothered. “but unlike you—”
he leans in, breath brushing the shell of your ear.
“—i’m not too proud to admit when i wanna fuck someone.”
you hate the way your stomach flips. hate the way your thighs shift, heat creeping in slow behind your skin.
“i’m not asking again,” he says, voice gone rough. “pants. off.”
his words drop heavy between you, a command that leaves no room for the pretense that you’re in control anymore. his eyes drag down your body, dark and wanting, hands flexing like he’s holding himself back only by the thinnest thread.
you hold his gaze, letting the moment stretch, something smug curling in your chest at how much he wants it. you hook your thumbs into your waistband again, slower this time, letting your jeans drag down over your hips.
his breath shudders out. he doesn’t look away, doesn’t blink.
“that’s it,” yoongi says, voice dropping lower, “let me see all of you.”
then yoongi’s mouth crashes into yours, all teeth and heat, his hands gripping your hips and dragging you closer until there’s nothing between you but skin and want.
you kiss him back with bite, nails digging into his arms, refusing to let him have the last word even now, with your jeans tangled around your ankles and your shirt hiked up.
he grins against your mouth, dark and cocky, pulling back just enough to murmur, “always so fucking stubborn.” his thumb traces your tattoo, slow and possessive, before his hand slips between your thighs, dragging his fingers through your slick over your underwear. “but look at you now. soaked for me.”
you huff, bratting it out to the last, “maybe it’s not for you.”
yoongi’s fingers flex, a warning press. “keep mouthing off and i’ll make you beg.”
you bare your teeth in a smile, arching into his hand. “try me.”
his grip tightens, his hand teasing your clit in slow, infuriating circles. you writhe against him, refusing to give him the satisfaction of a moan, even as your body shakes with need.
“you want to cum?” he asks, voice smug. “say please.”
you glare, rolling your hips for friction. “make me.”
his mouth curls wicked. “you’re impossible.”
he pushes your underwear aside, slipping two fingers inside and curling just right, and you bite your lip holding in a cry.
his free arm tightens around your waist, holding you still, breath hot against your jaw as he mutters, “good girl. take it. show me how much you want it.”
your pride holds out as long as it can.
but when he finally pulls his hand away and lines his cock up, pressing slow and deliberate, you break.
“yoongi—”
he grins, eyes burning. “say please.”
you clench your jaw, staring him down, hips already grinding against him for more. but you give in.
“fuck—please.”
“that’s it,” he growls. “knew you’d beg for it.”
yoongi turns you quick, chest to the wall, his hands sliding up your sides. before you can get another word out, he pushes two fingers into your mouth, shutting you up. your lips part instinctively, tongue swirling around him.
“always gotta run your mouth,” he mutters, sliding into you from behind, cock already pressing deep. “figured i’d give it something useful to do.”
his thrusts are rough, pace hard enough that your knees nearly buckle, forehead pressed to the wall.
“fuck, look at you,” he grits out, voice thick with want. “so cock-hungry you’ll do anything i say. this what you wanted? to show off for me, act like a slut in front of everyone just to get filled up?”
you moan around his fingers, eyes fluttering shut, saliva dribbling down your chin as he fucks you harder, every thrust sending sparks up your spine.
“that’s it,” yoongi pants, hand fisting tighter in your hair. “take it. let everyone hear you. let ‘em know who’s fucking you stupid.”
your hips snap back against him, greedy for more, his filthy praise only making you wetter. his fingers keep your mouth stuffed, your noises muffled and desperate, the wet sounds echoing in the cramped, dim-lit space.
he slams into you, deep and mean, pushing you right to the edge.
“you gonna cum for me like this?” he taunts, thumb smearing spit across your cheek. “gonna let me fuck all that attitude out of you?”
you nod, desperate and frantic against his fingers, spit slicking your lips as you whine.
yoongi just smirks, pressing in closer until his mouth hovers by your ear, voice dark and wrecked. “do it,” he whispers, hips snapping harder, pace unyielding. “cum for me.”
his breath is hot at your neck, words rolling down your spine as he fucks you through it. you let go, orgasm tearing through you, the world narrowing to nothing but the feeling of his cock and the rough drag of his fingers in your mouth, his voice commanding you to fall apart.
yoongi groans, fucking you through every aftershock, voice filthy in your ear: “that’s it—such a good fucking girl when you’re stuffed full, huh?”
he keeps you pinned, each thrust rougher, chasing his own end. his hand slips from your jaw to your lower back, splaying his fingers over your spine, tugging you back until your arch deepens and your tattoo is on full display for him.
he leans back just enough to take in the sight , the dark lines flexing with every movement, sweat beading along your skin. you can feel his gaze burning into you, possessive and filthy.
“so fuckin’ pretty,” he groans, breath jagged, “can’t believe you wanted to hide this from me.”
he fucks you faster, desperate, the rhythm turning erratic as he chases release. when he’s on the edge, he pulls out at the last second, fist wrapping around his cock. you feel the first hot splash hit your lower back, streaking across your tattoo, and then another and another, thick and messy.
he groans your name, hips jerking as he empties himself all over your skin, marking you with each pulsing spurt—not bothering to hide how much he loves the sight of you ruined for him.
for a moment, the only sounds are your ragged breaths and his low curses, the aftermath warm and sticky on your back, his hands still gripping your hips.
then yoongi lets his gaze drag down your body, still smug as he takes in the mess he’s made. hair wild, mouth bruised, skin streaked where his cum is drying across your tattoo. his eyes flick up, drinking in your thoroughly ruined state, and he smirks, just a little too proud of himself.
“you needed that, huh,” he drawls.
you glare, breath still ragged. “never.”
his mouth twitches, dark and lazy. “i’ll clean you up.”
you shake your head, tugging your jeans back up with shaky fingers. “you don’t need to. you got what you wanted.”
yoongi’s smirk falters, gaze narrowing. “what we wanted.”
you snort, still breathless, swiping at your back with the edge of your shirt. “i was gonna fuck someone tonight, yoongi. just happened to be you. don’t get it twisted.”
something sour flashes through his eyes. “yeah? you were gonna let hoseok fuck you?”
you meet his gaze, steady. “i thought we were fucking other people.”
“yeah, but you don’t see me fucking the chick you came in with,” he spits, a hint of jealousy slipping out despite himself.
you huff, rolling your eyes. “good. she’s engaged. you can’t.”
yoongi goes quiet, jaw tight, frustration flashing behind his eyes. “the fuck is your problem?”
you tug your shirt down, refusing to meet his gaze. “i don’t have one.”
“bullshit. you obviously do.” he steps in closer, tension crackling. “what is it? is it that i’m not your lapdog anymore? can’t stand seeing i don’t need you? does it shatter your fragile ego, watching me have a life that doesn’t orbit around you?”
you snap your glare to him, voice cold. “shut the fuck up, yoongi.”
he just shakes his head, mouth curling mean. “no, tell me. what makes you think you’re so fucking great? what, did you peak in college? you holding onto whatever leash you think you’ve got on me—does that make you feel better about your mediocre fucking life?”
your jaw tightens, heat stinging behind your eyes, but you force your tone steady. “shut up. go fuck yourself.”
yoongi laughs, sharp and bitter. “maybe you should try it first. sounds like you need it more than me.”
you spit at his feet, the sound sharp in the cramped room. yoongi’s jaw tightens, something ugly flickering in his eyes, but you don’t give him the satisfaction of a reaction.
you turn on your heel and storm out, wiping your mouth, chin high and pride stitching back together with every step.
