CEO Yoongi x Female Barista
Warnings: Enemies to lovers, swearing, smut, unprotected sex, oral-male and female receiving, light bdsm, office sex, sex against a window, admitting to masturbation at the thought of someone, teasing, begging
Word Count: 11,242
This is a rewrite of Cold Brewed Love. I loved the idea for that one and it started off as one of my favorites but it turned into this weird mafia kidnapping thing and I’ve always been embarrassed and hated it. So with my birthday in a few days I decided to finally get it done as a little gift to myself. I love this one so much more and I hope you all do too! And I will get the final chapter of Long Way Home up soon. I’m sorry please don’t kill me! ♥️
The smell of fresh coffee had become so familiar that you barely noticed it anymore. It clung to your clothes long after your shifts ended, followed you into your apartment, and lingered in your hair no matter how many times you washed it. Most days you didn’t mind. You loved the scent. You loved making coffee. You loved your co-worker Jimin and the way he always looked out for you. You loved the regulars who greeted you by name and the quiet rush of the morning crowd.
There was only one part of your job you dreaded.
Min Yoongi.
Owner and CEO of Min Technologies. Multi-millionaire maybe even billionaire by this point. Business prodigy that owned half the city. Local magazine cover favorite. Unfortunately extremely handsome. And, in your opinion, the most insufferable man on the planet.
Every weekday at precisely 8:10, the elevator from the executive floors opened, and he walked into the café looking as though he had personally been inconvenienced by the existence of everyone around him. He never smiled. Never greeted anyone. If his drink took longer than three minutes, no matter how busy it was, he’d glance at his watch with exaggerated annoyance.
His employees upstairs practically worshipped him. You couldn’t understand why. Maybe he was a genius when it came to software and investments, but none of that excused treating people like they existed solely to make his life easier.
“Medium americano.”, he stated without looking away from his phone. You didn’t even have to look up to know it was him. “You know.”, you said as you reached for a cup, “most people start with ‘good morning.’”
“It would still be morning whether I said it or not.”, he responded, “And you’d still have to make the coffee.” You let out a huff of annoyance and stepped away to finish the drink. You could feel his eyes on you while the espresso machine hissed beside you. “Y/N you seem particularly agitated today.”, he said. You slid his cup across the counter a little harder than necessary, “You seem particularly arrogant today.”
“You’re confusing confidence with arrogance.”, he corrected you. He picked up his drink, thanked no one, and disappeared back toward the elevators. You waited until the doors closed before sighing loudly, “I swear he gets ruder every single day.”
By the following Monday, you had mostly forgotten about him. The café was unusually quiet when you clocked in. Your manager Jin stood behind the register with an expression that immediately made you suspicious. Whenever Jin smiled like that someone’s day was about to get significantly worse. “What?”, you asked. His smile grew, “We’ve got a new employee.” You blinked, “I didn’t know we were hiring?” Jin shrugged his shoulders, “It’s a…temporary thing.”
You narrowed your eyes and you set your bag beneath the counter and tied your apron around your waist. You already knew you were going to be training them. You’d been there the longest. Every new hire eventually became your responsibility even though you insisted you had neither the patience nor the personality for it.
Jin always ignored that argument, “They’ll be here any minute.” You sighed, “Please tell me they have at least some café experience.” Jin chuckled, “Not exactly.” Before you could ask what that meant, the elevator doors opened. Your heart nearly stopped. Min Yoongi stepped out. Except something was different.
There was no expensive suit jacket draped over his arm. No tablet. No frantic assistant following behind him. Instead, he wore dark jeans, a simple black T-shirt beneath an apron Jin had clearly forced him into, and an expression that suggested he’d rather be anywhere else on Earth.
You stared. He stared back. Neither of you spoke. Finally, you looked at Jin, “Is this a joke?” Jimin snorted into a laugh. Jin shook his head, “The board of directors and his grandfather have decided that Mr. Min needs to spend six weeks working every position in the company he oversees. And since he technically owns this cafe…” Your eyes slowly drifted back toward Yoongi. Silence settled between you. He looked just as unhappy as you felt.
You led Yoongi behind the counter before the morning rush had a chance to begin. The café was quiet enough that you could explain things without having customers waiting impatiently in line and for that you were grateful. Training anyone took patience. Training Min Yoongi was going to take a miracle.
He stood beside you with his arms folded, studying the touchscreen register as though he were evaluating a prototype his company had developed. His expression barely changed, but you recognized that look. You’d seen it whenever he came downstairs for coffee. Everything was beneath him until proven otherwise. “This is the POS system.”, you explained, tapping a few buttons to bring up the menu, “Here are the specialty coffees, standard coffees, syrup options are over here and bakery is on this side. You’ll spend your first few shifts learning this before we even think about letting you touch the coffee machine.”
His eyes scanned the screen for all of five seconds, “That’s all?” You looked over at him, “That’s all?” He rolled his eyes, “It’s software.” You waited. He didn’t elaborate. Finally he scoffed, as though the answer should have been obvious, “I own a multi-million-dollar tech company. I think I can figure out a coffee shop POS system.”
There it was. That familiar confidence that always sounded just a little too much like arrogance. You couldn’t help but smile and for the first time, he looked slightly suspicious. Before he could ask what you meant, the bell over the front door chimed. Your head turned automatically. Then you saw who had walked in. A laugh nearly escaped you.
Every café had that one customer that tested everyone’s patience. The one whose drink ticket printed long enough to wrap around the cup twice. The one who ordered so often that the regular baristas knew the recipe would be difficult, but nobody else knew what to expect. Yours was Ms.Kim. She walked through the door in oversized sunglasses and designer heels, phone pressed to one ear while she waved absently toward the counter. She visited nearly every weekday, always at the same time, always with a drink that somehow became more complicated than the last.
You quietly stepped away from the register, “Your first customer is here.” Ms.Kim reached the counter and smiled pleasantly at Yoongi. “Oh.”, she said, “You’re new…and so handsome.” Even from a safe distance you could see the blush creep up his neck. Yoongi offered the practiced smile of a businessman who had spent years negotiating contracts and charming investors, “Good morning. What can I get started for you?”
“I’ll have a venti half-caf oat milk latte.”, she began. His fingers hovered confidently over the touchscreen. Then she continued, “…with three shots, extra hot, but not scalding. Two pumps of vanilla, one pump of sugar-free vanilla, three pumps of caramel, half a pump of hazelnut but be careful because last time they put 3/4 of a pump, cinnamon steamed into the milk, light foam, caramel drizzle around the cup and on top, whipped cream only around the edges, and two packets of raw sugar.”
His fingers stopped moving. The confidence disappeared so quickly you almost laughed. He stared at the register. Then at Ms. Kim. Then back at the register again. His expression remained impressively neutral, but after two years of arguing with him, you’d become surprisingly good at reading the tiny changes in his face.
The slight narrowing of his eyes.
The nearly invisible tightening of his jaw.
The fraction of a second where he simply…froze.
He had absolutely no idea where any of those buttons were. You bit the inside of your cheek. He’d walked into this convinced running a café would be easy because it involved a computer screen. Now that computer screen looked like it was in a completely different language.
You didn’t rescue him. Instead, you watched him try. His hand drifted uncertainly across the display as he searched for syrup options. A soft warning beep sounded. Wrong button. He frowned and tried again. Another beep. This time he’d accidentally selected iced instead of hot. He corrected it, only to lose the extra espresso shots he’d already entered. You could practically hear the gears turning in his head as he tried to solve the problem himself.
The longer it took the less confident he looked. His shoulders, which had been perfectly straight moments ago, began to tense. His brows pulled together in concentration and every now and then he glanced at the screen with the same expression people wore while assembling furniture without reading the instructions.
It was strangely…endearing. You hated using that word to describe him. He wasn’t endearing. He was simply discovering that the job he’d dismissed in less than a minute required far more attention than he’d expected. Eventually, after nearly a full minute of determined silence, he let out a quiet breath. Without looking at you, he asked, “How do you find the syrups?” You blinked. That might have been the closest thing to asking for help you’d ever heard from him.
You stepped beside him, pointing toward one of the submenu tabs, “They’re hidden under modifiers. Most new people miss it.” His eyes followed your finger. Together, you worked through the rest of the order, adding each customization one by one. When the receipt finally printed, it dangled almost to the countertop. Yoongi stared at the impossibly long sticker before looking toward the espresso station where Jimin had already begun making the drink.“That’s…one coffee?”, he asked and you nodded. He watched Jimin pump syrup after syrup into the cup with the practiced speed that only came from repetition. For the first time since putting on that apron, Yoongi wasn’t looking at the café as though it were beneath him. He was watching it with genuine curiosity.
You caught the thoughtful expression before he noticed you looking and you quickly busied yourself wiping down the counter. Maybe six weeks wouldn’t be enough to change someone. But after only twenty minutes behind the register, Yoongi had already learned his first lesson. Nothing about this job was as simple as it looked.
Quickly you came to one very specific conclusion. Min Yoongi was an excellent student but he was also unbelievably irritating. He picked things up far faster than any trainee you’d ever worked with. After watching you ring in drinks a handful of times, he’d memorized the entire register. By Wednesday he was taking most orders without your help. By Thursday he had learned enough about the machines to make basic drinks under your supervision.
You should have been impressed. Instead, it only gave him more opportunities to argue with you. He questioned everything.
Why did customers insist on ordering drinks that tasted like melted candy?
Why did everyone refuse to read the menu before reaching the register?
Why did the drive for “customer satisfaction” mean apologizing when someone else’s mistake held up the line?
He challenged nearly every answer you gave him and you challenged nearly every assumption he made. Somewhere between correcting his milk steaming technique and explaining why baristas wrote encouraging notes on regulars’ cups, your conversations had settled into a constant rhythm of bickering.
Friday however, was different. You’d known from the moment your alarm went off that the day wasn’t going to be kind. Your head felt heavy. Your body ached with the kind of exhaustion sleep couldn’t fix and the dull headache sitting behind your eyes hadn’t gone away no matter how many painkillers you took or how much coffee you’d sipped before work.
To make matters worse, you’d spent nearly three hours at the emergency veterinarian the night before after your cat, Sushi, had suddenly started limping. Thankfully, the little troublemaker was going to be fine, but the bill had swallowed nearly everything you’d managed to put into your savings over the past several months. Every time you thought about the number printed at the bottom of that receipt, your stomach twisted. You’d pay it again in a heartbeat but it still hurt.
By the time you tied your apron that morning, you already felt wrung out. Even Jimin noticed. “You okay?”, he asked quietly while restocking the napkin dispenser. You forced a smile, “Yeah just tired.” He looked like he wanted to ask more, but the morning rush had already begun. For once, even Yoongi didn’t have much to criticize. He worked beside you in relative silence until the line finally thinned enough for everyone to catch their breath. He glanced toward the stack of cups you’d accidentally knocked over for the second time that morning.
“You’re unusually clumsy today Y/N.”, he said without much actual bite to it. Normally, you would’ve had an answer ready. Something sarcastic. Something that would make him roll his eyes. Instead, you simply bent down, gathered the cups, and kept working, “Sorry.” The word slipped out automatically. Yoongi frowned. You never apologized to him. He watched you for another moment before returning to the register, though you could feel his eyes lingering every so often throughout the next several minutes. He didn’t say anything else.
The café grew busy again just before lunch. Most customers were patient despite the line stretching toward the door. Drinks were flying out as quickly as Yoongi and Jimin could make them and for a little while you managed to lose yourself in the familiar rhythm of taking orders.
Then a man in an expensive business suit stepped up to your register. You greeted him with the same polite smile you gave everyone, “What can I get started for you today?” He rattled off his order without looking up from his phone. You entered it carefully before repeating it back to make sure you’d heard correctly. His head snapped up, “That’s not what I said.” You took a breath, “Oh, I’m sorry. I thought…” But he cut you off, “I said whole milk.” As you typed away on the screen you corrected him, “You actually said oat milk, but I can absolutely change…” The man laughed at you, “I know what I said.” The customers waiting behind him shifted uncomfortably. You kept your voice calm, “No problem sir. I’ll fix it.” He sighed dramatically as if you’d just ruined his entire morning. “This is why nobody gets decent service anymore.”, he grumbled. You swallowed, “I’m sorry about the misunderstanding.”
“No wonder you’re working a shitty cafe job. You’ll never be anything more than a struggling minimum wage barista.”
The words landed harder than they should have. Maybe because you were already exhausted. Maybe because you were worrying about rent. Maybe because you’d spent half the night sitting on the floor beside Sushi’s bed, terrified something was seriously wrong. Whatever the reason, you suddenly felt your throat tighten. You blinked quickly, willing your eyes not to sting.
“I’m fixing it.”, you said softly, “They haven’t even made the drink yet so it’s not problem.” The man shook his head, “Unbelievable. If you were my employee you’d be fired already.” Something inside you cracked. You realized that if you stayed behind that register for one more second you were going to cry in front of a lobby full of people.
“I…excuse me.”, you said and you stepped away before anyone could stop you and hurried through the swinging door into the back room. The moment it closed behind you, you leaned against the wall and covered your face with your hands. The tears came in full force then. You hated crying at work. You hated that one rude customer had managed to undo every bit of composure you’d been clinging to all morning.
A few moments later the back door creaked open. You expected Jin to scold you for walking away mid order or Yoongi to say something to annoy you. Instead, Jimin poked his head inside. His eyes were wide, “Y/N…you okay?” You laughed weakly as you wiped beneath your eyes, “Yeah I will be.” He stepped fully into the room still looking mildly stunned, “You missed…something…interesting.” He scratched the back of his neck, “The guy who made you cry started complaining again after you left. And Yoongi…” Jimin let out a short, disbelieving laugh, “…Yoongi absolutely tore into him.” You looked up, “What?!” Jimin leaned against the shelves, replaying it in his head, “He walked right up to the register and asked the guy if humiliating someone who’d been nothing but polite and hard working made him feel important.” Your eyebrows lifted, “He actually said that?”Jimin nodded, “The customer tried pulling the whole ‘Do you know who I am?’ routine.” A smile tugged faintly at the corner of his mouth. You couldn’t help the tiny laugh that escaped you. Jimin continued, “Yoongi looked him dead in the eye and said, “I don’t particularly care who you are. I care how you treat my co-workers.’” Your smile softened. My co-worker.
Jimin added, “He told the man that if he couldn’t speak respectfully to the staff, he was welcome to buy his coffee somewhere else.” Your eyes widened, “He…kicked him out?” Jimin nodded, “He absolutely did. Then the guy demanded to speak to the owner.” Your curiosity got the better of you, “What did Yoongi do?” Jimin grinned, “Yoongi looked in right in the eye and said…you already are.’” Jimin smiled softly, “Everyone in line clapped while the guy did the walk of shame out the door. I don’t think that customer will be coming back.” The room fell quiet again.
You stared down at your hands, still trying to picture it. Min Yoongi, the same man who rarely smiled, who lived to correct everyone around him, who had spent the better part of a week arguing with you over the smallest things….had defended you without hesitation. For reasons you couldn’t quite explain, that unsettled you far more than another argument ever could.
The days slipped by almost without you noticing. Yoongi learned the names of customers before they introduced themselves. He remembered that Mrs. Park always wanted her blueberry muffin warmed for exactly fifteen seconds because twenty made it too soft. He knew Mr. Lee liked one ice cube dropped into his coffee so he could drink it immediately on his walk to work. He even started setting aside the last chocolate chip cookie every Thursday morning for the little boy who came in with his grandmother after preschool. He’d never admit he’d memorized any of it but you noticed.
You noticed a lot of things. Like how he silently restocked cups whenever he saw they were running low without having to be told. How he automatically grabbed another gallon of milk whenever Jimin reached for the last one. How he’d begun wiping down tables between customers without anyone asking. The work no longer seemed beneath him. It was simply work. Somewhere along the way, he’d stopped acting like a CEO pretending to be a barista. Now he was just another member of the team.
It caught you off guard how naturally he’d settled into it. Even Jin seemed impressed. “I wasn’t sure he’d last two days.”, he admitted one afternoon while counting the register. “I only gave him two hours.”, you replied. Across the café, Yoongi looked up from changing the trash, “I heard that.” Jimin sighed loudly from the sink, “You two argue like an old married couple.” The café fell silent. You froze with a towel still in your hand. Yoongi nearly dropped the tray he’d been carrying. Jimin looked between the two of you before slowly smiling, “…Interesting.”
“There is nothing interesting about that sentence.”, you said a little too quickly. “Not at all.”, Yoongi agreed at almost the exact same moment. Jimin’s grin only widened.
Thursday afternoon brought one of the slowest shifts you’d worked in weeks. Rain slammed harshly against the café windows while only a handful of customers occupied the tables. You were wiping down the pastry case when the front doors opened. A man around your age stepped inside, shaking rainwater from his jacket before walking toward the counter with an easy smile. He was handsome in an effortless sort of way, wearing a university sweatshirt and carrying a laptop bag over one shoulder.
When he reached the register, he smiled at you, “I’ll take a vanilla latte with oat milk.” You rang it in with your usual polite smile, “Anything to eat today?” He glanced toward the display before looking back at you, “No…but I was wondering something…I’ve been coming here for a couple weeks.” You nodded, recognizing him immediately. You knew his name was Hobi thanks to having to write his name on the cup. He usually came in during the afternoon lull probably once his classes were down for the day. He continued, “…I was hoping I could finally ask if you wanted to go out to dinner with me.” Before you could answer, you heard the unmistakable hiss of steam stop behind you.
“Umm ye…”, you started but were cut off by Yoongi, “You forgot to charge for oat milk.” The interruption came from directly beside you. Yoongi stood there pointing at the POS. You looked down and quickly fixed it before handing the total to the customer.
When you looked back up, Hobi smiled again, “So…dinner or maybe lunch?” Before you could answer this time, Yoongi slid the finished latte onto the counter, “Vanilla latte..with oat milk.” Then instead of walking away he stood next to you, arms crossed, with an unimpressed look on his face. Hobi looked between the two of you before taking his cup, “Thanks.” He hesitated for a moment as though debating whether to ask again. Then he simply smiled politely and walked toward the door. The bell chimed softly as he disappeared into the rain.
You stared after him for a second before turning toward Yoongi, “That was…unusually fast.” He picked up a towel and began wiping the counter with far more concentration than necessary and ignoring your statement. You narrowed your eyes, “You’re impossible.” He walked away before anything else could be said. Across the café, Jimin had witnessed the entire exchange. He waited until Yoongi disappeared into the stockroom before wandering over beside you.
A slow grin spread across his face. You frowned. Jimin leaned closer, “I don’t think he liked that guy very much. The interruptions almost seemed…intentional.” You looked toward the stockroom door before laughing. Jimin’s grin only grew. You shook your head, dismissing the idea entirely. Yoongi didn’t get jealous especially not with you. He barely tolerated most people on a good day. Still…As you glanced toward the back room, the thought of it…for some reason made you smile.
By the fourth week of Yoongi’s training, you’d settled into a routine that felt surprisingly normal. It was strange to think there had once been a time when the two of you couldn’t stand sharing the same space. Now, even on the busiest mornings, you rarely had to think about who was doing what. Orders flowed naturally. One of you took customers while the other worked to make the drinks and somewhere along the way you’d developed an unspoken rhythm that made the café run smoother than it ever had before.
Which was precisely why Thursday evening felt like a disaster before you’d even unlocked the front doors.
Min Technologies was hosting its annual product showcase upstairs which was a flashy event that drew investors, journalists, business partners, and enough executives to fill nearly every floor of the building. The lobby had been transformed with banners and digital displays, and catering staff hurried through the elevators carrying trays of food while security guards directed guests toward the conference center.
Normally, the café was closed by 6:00pm but on this day it always stayed open until at least 11:00 to accommodate all of the extra guests.
Tonight, however, everything that could go wrong already had. Jimin had called Jin that morning with a fever high enough that he had been admitted to the hospital. The other barista was visiting family out of state and the only other one had decided to quit the night before and had blocked everyone’s phone number. And of course Yoongi was busy tending to the event. Jin had spent half the afternoon calling anyone who had ever worked a shift behind the counter. No one was available. Which left only you.
Jin looked genuinely apologetic as he hung up his apron, “Y/N I can stay for another hour.” You shook your head, “You’ve already been here since four this morning. You have two kids waiting at home and tonight is your son’s big baseball game. You need to go.” He hesitated, “I hate this.” He looked toward the growing crowd gathering outside the elevators, “I’ll keep trying to find someone. If I can’t get anyone I’ll come back as soon as the game is over.” You smiled, even though neither of you believed anyone was suddenly going to become available.
For the first twenty minutes, things weren’t too bad. Busy but manageable. The line stretched toward the door, but you managed to stay ahead of it. Orders came in steadily enough that you could ring someone up while finishing drinks with your free hand.
Then the event upstairs ended its last big presentation. The elevators opened and suddenly it felt as though the entire building decided they wanted a late night coffee at exactly the same moment. People poured into the lobby in waves. Conversations echoed off the high ceilings. The line reached out the front doors within minutes. Mobile orders began printing so quickly that the receipt machine barely paused between tickets.
You stared at the growing pile. There wasn’t even time to panic. You simply moved. Take an order. Steam milk. Ring another customer. Blend a frappé. Heat a sandwich. Package a cinnamon bun. Call a name. Apologize for the wait. Take a deep breath. Start it all over again.
You barely looked up from the register. The café filled with overlapping voices until you could barely hear yourself think. A carton of oat milk ran empty. You sprinted to the refrigerator. Someone asked for the ingredient list for the ham and cheese croissant. Another customer wanted six drinks split across three separate receipts.The mobile order printer shrieked again indicating it was out of paper for the third time.
You glanced toward the steadily growing row of cups waiting to be made and felt your stomach sink. There was simply no way. No matter how fast you moved, you were falling further behind. A customer checked her watch with obvious irritation. Another sighed loudly enough for half the café to hear. You took a slow breath, forcing yourself to stay calm. One drink at a time. That was all you could do.
Then you heard measured footsteps crossing the lobby. They stopped on the opposite side of the counter. You glanced up, expecting another impatient customer. Instead you saw Yoongi. He was still dressed for the event upstairs. A perfectly tailored charcoal suit. White dress shirt. Dark tie. Rolex on his wrist. His conference badge still hung around his neck, and his hair had been styled far more carefully than usual. He looked completely out of place standing in the middle of your chaotic little café.
For a brief second, relief flickered through you. Then you remembered who you were looking at. Your shoulders sagged. You were already exhausted. You really weren’t in the mood for one of his sarcastic comments about your inability to keep up. He looked around the café without speaking. His eyes moved from the line stretching out the door to the mountain of unmade drink stickers to the overflowing sink and then to the like of spilled sugar all over the floor and…to you.
You knew exactly what he was seeing. Your hair had long since escaped its ponytail. There was a collection of syrup on your apron. Your cheeks were flushed, and you were fairly certain you had sweated through your shirt. You looked like a disaster. You braced yourself. “I know.”, you said before he could speak, “I’m behind.” He didn’t answer. Instead, he loosened his tie. You frowned. Then he slipped off his suit jacket and carefully folded it over the back of one of the office chairs. Your confusion deepened. Without a word, he walked over and reached for the hook beside the sink and pulled down one of the spare aprons.
For a second, you simply stared as he tied it around his waist with practiced movements. “Y/N you can’t do this alone.”, he said. He rolled up the sleeves of his expensive dress shirt until they rested just below his elbows, “What do you need first?” You blinked, “What?” He pointed, “The register or drinks?” For a moment, your brain completely refused to process what was happening. Before you could respond, he stepped past you and picked up the stack of waiting drink stickers. His eyes scanned them once, “Two caramel macchiatos, an iced chai, three peach strawberry ice teas…”
He reached for a pitcher as naturally as if he’d never left, “I’ll catch up on drinks.” You stood frozen for another heartbeat. Then he looked over his shoulder, “Well?…Orders aren’t going to ring up themselves.” You snapped back to reality. The two of you fell into motion almost instantly. You returned to the register while Yoongi threw drinks together like nothing. Within minutes, the pace of the café changed. Not because the crowd had gotten any smaller but because you weren’t facing it alone anymore.
Yoongi hadn’t come downstairs because he was required to. He’d come because he’d seen you struggling and without saying a single unnecessary word he’d simply decided you shouldn’t have to do it alone.
The last customer wandered out of the café a little after eleven. The lobby that had been deafening only an hour earlier had fallen strangely quiet. Event staff wheeled empty display stands toward the freight elevator while the cleaning crew began making their rounds through the building. Somewhere upstairs, the last of the executives were saying their goodbyes.
The café, however, looked as though a tornado had swept through it. Utensils filled the sink. Used towels were piled on one counter. The pastry case sat nearly empty, except for a lonely blueberry muffin and two oatmeal cookies no one had wanted. You let out a tired sigh. The rush was over. Now came the part nobody ever thought about until the end.
Cleaning.
You filled the sink with hot water before dropping another stack of dishes into the suds. Every muscle in your body protested. Your shoulders ached. Your feet throbbed. Even lifting the sanitizer bucket felt heavier than it should have. You mentally calculated how long it would take.Two hours at a minimum. Maybe three or even four.
You’d barely finished scrubbing the first dish when you heard Yoongi’s voice drift in from the front of the café, “Y/N.” You kept washing, “What?” There was a pause, “…Don’t ‘what’ me. Just come here.’”You shook your head, smiling to yourself despite your exhaustion. Another few seconds passed. You turned just in time to see him appear in the doorway to the back room, sleeves still rolled to his forearms, apron dusted with coco and espresso grounds.
He looked at the sink overflowing with dishes before meeting your eyes, “They’ll still be dirty in fifteen minutes. They’re not going anywhere.” You nodded, “Exactly. I need to get them done.”Instead of answering, he reached over, took the sponge out of your hand, and set it on the edge of the sink, “Just…come here. I promise it’s worth it.”
There was something different in his voice. Curiosity got the better of you. You followed him out to the dining area expecting him to point out something you’d forgotten to clean. Instead, you stopped short. A paper bag sat in the middle of one of the café tables. Beside it were two bottles of water and several plastic containers. Your stomach chose that exact moment to betray you with a loud growl.
Yoongi looked down at the containers with a smirk, “I ordered us some dinner.” He slid one of the containers toward you, “The sushi place down the street was still open.” You stared at it for a long moment. Silence settled between you. Finally he pulled out one of the chairs, “Sit.” It wasn’t really an order but more like an invitation disguised as one. Your body decided before your pride did. You sank into the chair with a relieved groan, “I was more tired than I realized.”
He sat across from you and opened one of the containers. For a few minutes, neither of you said much. The only sounds were plastic lids snapping open and the faint hum of refrigerators in the background. It felt odd. You’d never imagined yourself eating dinner with Min Yoongi after work. Especially not while both of you still wore coffee-soaked aprons.
He picked up a piece of salmon nigiri, “I wasn’t sure what you liked so I got a little of everything.” You smiled faintly, “Sushi is a safe choice.” You reached for a California roll, “I actually have a cat named Sushi.” His chopsticks froze halfway to his mouth, “…Your cat is named Sushi.”
You laughed, “Mhm.” He stared at you then he laughed, “That’s adorable.” You laughed along with him, “Yeah I found him behind a sushi restaurant. He was so tiny.” His expression softened and you continued, “The owner of the restaurant had been feeding him scraps for a few days, but they couldn’t keep him. I was only supposed to foster him. Then he slept on my chest the first night.” Yoongi smiled, “I suppose that was the end of fostering.” You laughed and nodded, “Pretty much.”
You found yourself telling him everything.How Sushi insisted on drinking from the bathroom faucet instead of his water bowl. How he’d once stolen an entire slice of turkey off your sandwich. How he greeted you at the door every evening with a tiny squeaky meow because he’d never learned how to meow properly. Yoongi listened. He asked questions. He laughed at all the right moments. He even admitted he’d never owned a pet because he’d spent most of his adult life working but if he ever did get one he’d get a black cat and name him Sugar.
The conversation drifted naturally after that. Cats stories became childhood stories. Childhood stories became favorite foods. Favorite foods somehow turned into travel, music, and books. The hours slipped by unnoticed. At some point you’d stopped sitting across from one another. You weren’t even sure when it had happened. One moment you were reaching for another container. The next, the two of you were sitting side by side, shoulders almost touching.
The café lights had been dimmed. Outside, rain had begun falling softly against the windows. You turned toward him, still smiling from something he’d said. He was already looking at you. Neither of you spoke. The laughter faded into a comfortable silence.
His eyes searched yours for a long moment. Your heart began beating just a little faster. Slowly…Almost hesitantly…He leaned closer. You didn’t move away. You could feel your breath catch. He was close enough now that you noticed the faint scent of coffee still lingering on his shirt beneath the citrusy cologne he’d worn to the company event.
Your eyes drifted to his lips. Just a little closer…then the front door burst open.
“There you two are!”
You both jumped apart so quickly the chairs loudly scraped against the floor. Jin stepped inside carrying his car keys, stopping the instant he noticed the distance that had suddenly appeared between the two of you. His gaze moved from you to Yoongi to the half-finished containers of sushi. One eyebrow slowly lifted, “Am I interrupting something?”
Your face immediately grew warm.
“No!”
Yoongi answered at the exact same time.
“No.”
Jin’s lips twitched, “I see.” Neither of you looked at each other. Jin looked between you once more before hiding a knowing smile, “Well…I came to help close and clean up.” He glanced at the untouched stack of dishes still waiting in the sink, “I would’ve got here sooner but there was an incident at the baseball game and I just got home from the ER…Though it seems I’ve arrived just in time.”
You quickly stood, desperate for something to do besides think about how close Yoongi had been only seconds earlier. As you hurried toward the back room, you missed the brief glance Jin sent Yoongi. It wasn’t teasing. It was understanding. And judging by the way Yoongi quietly rubbed the back of his neck before reaching for the dish towel he knew exactly what had almost happened too.
The almost kiss lingered far longer than either of you ever acknowledged. Neither of you mentioned that night after the company event. Not the dinner. Not how close the two of you had been. Not the way Jin had walked in at the worst possible moment.
Life simply continued but something between you and Yoongi had shifted. You caught him looking at you more often than before though he always found something else to focus on the second you noticed. Every now and then your hands brushed while reaching for the same milk pitcher or stack of cups, and where those moments once would’ve been followed by a sarcastic remark, now they were met with an awkward silence before one of you quietly stepped away. You’d told yourself not to read into it. It had almost worked. Until you caught yourself wondering if he thought about that almost kiss as often as you did.
Unfortunately Yoongi’s six weeks were coming to an end. The realization hit you unexpectedly one Tuesday morning when Jin mentioned it in passing while checking the schedule, “Friday’s his last shift.” You looked up from dating pastry labels. Jin smiled to himself but didn’t comment.
Instead, he continued writing on the schedule while your stomach twisted with an emotion you weren’t ready to name. You’d spent weeks counting down until the day you wouldn’t have to deal with working with Min Yoongi anymore. Now…The idea of him leaving felt strangely disappointing.
The biggest surprise wasn’t how much he’d learned. It was how naturally he’d become part of the café. Customers asked for him by name now. The regulars teased him whenever he looked too serious. Ms. Kim still insisted he was “far too handsome to be hiding behind a coffee machine,” which never failed to make him blush just enough for you to notice.
He remembered everyone’s orders without thinking. He knew exactly when to refill the pastry case, when to start another pot of coffee, and when you needed someone to quietly step in and take over the register because the line had become too long. There was no hesitation anymore. The two of you moved around each other as though you’d worked side by side for years.
Thursday afternoon was unusually slow. Rain drummed softly against the windows, leaving the café almost empty except for a few students tucked into the corner booths with laptops. You were wiping down the counter while Yoongi disappeared into the storage room to restock syrup bottles.
The quiet lasted all of thirty seconds. Then came the sound of cabinets opening. A muttered sigh. Another cabinet. More rustling. Finally, his voice drifted into the café, “Why is the chocolate syrup always impossible to open?” You smiled to yourself because even though you got along much better you still liked to know he struggled a little from time to time.
A few more seconds passed. You could practically picture him wrestling with the lid. “You need help?”, you called. There was another grunt. Followed by complete silence. Then a loud pop echoed through the stockroom. It was immediately followed by another sound. One you didn’t hear very often. Yoongi groaning in frustration followed by a string of curse words. Curious, you rounded the corner.
The sight that greeted you stopped you in your tracks. Chocolate syrup was everywhere. It streaked across the front of his black T-shirt and soaked into the apron tied around his waist. Tiny speckles dotted his bangs and there was even a smear across his cheek. The bottle still sat in his hand, tilted at an awkward angle, as though it had exploded the moment the lid gave way. For a heartbeat, you simply stared.
Then the laughter came. It burst out of you so suddenly that you had to grab the doorframe to steady yourself. You tried to stop but every time you looked at him, another wave of laughter escaped.
When you finally managed to catch your breath, tears had gathered in the corners of your eyes. Your gaze drifted back to the streak of chocolate across his face. The laughter started all over again. For a long moment, Yoongi simply watched you. There wasn’t even the slightest hint of irritation on his face. Instead, the corners of his mouth slowly lifted into a smile. Not the small, reluctant smirk he wore whenever he won an argument. A genuine smile. One that reached his eyes. It was the expression of someone quietly plotting revenge. The realization hit you a second too late.
Your laughter faded, “…Don’t.” He didn’t answer. He just looked down at the open bottle still in his hand before looking back at you. Your eyes widened, “Yoongi...” He took a single step forward. Instinctively, you took one back, “Don’t even think about it.” The smile only grew. A tiny flick of his wrist sent a thin ribbon of chocolate syrup sailing through the air. It landed neatly across the front of your apron. You looked down at the brown streak. Then back at him. The café fell completely silent. Neither of you moved. Finally, you reached for the nearest can of whipped cream. Yoongi’s eyes immediately narrowed, “Oh no.” You smiled, “Oh yes.”
He laughed and took off running before you’d even managed to press the nozzle. By the time you chased him around the cafe both of you were laughing too hard to make any real attempt at revenge. You nearly caught him once before he ducked behind the counter. He retaliated with another tiny drizzle of chocolate that landed on your thigh. You answered with a cloud of whipped cream that splattered harmlessly against the floor.
The entire café echoed with laughter neither of you could seem to stop. That was exactly how Jimin found you. He walked through the front door carrying a case of coffee beans and stopped dead in the entrance. His gaze slowly traveled from the whipped cream can in your hand to the chocolate-covered apron Yoongi was still wearing to the syrup streaks now decorating the counter. Slowly he shook his head, “I don’t even want to know.” You looked at each other. Then, without warning, both of you dissolved into laughter all over again. Jimin sighed dramatically as he set the box on the counter and walked back outside.
You and Yoongi burst into laughter. For the first time since he’d walked into the café wearing that borrowed apron, neither of you could imagine what the place would feel like without the other standing behind the counter.
By Friday afternoon, the realization had finally settled over the café. It was Yoongi’s last shift. The thought lingered in the back of your mind from the moment you clocked in making the morning feel strangely bittersweet. Customers stopped by to wish him luck upstairs, though many admitted they were disappointed he wouldn’t be making their coffee anymore. Yoongi would simply roll his eyes each time but you caught the small smile he tried to hide. For someone who had spent his first week insisting he was above working in a coffee shop, he’d become surprisingly popular.
By closing time, Jin disappeared into the office before returning with a small chocolate cake balanced carefully in his hands. The words Congratulations, Yoongi! were written across the top in slightly crooked white icing. “It’s not much.”, Jin admitted, setting it on one of the café tables, “but six weeks is six weeks and longer than some have lasted.” Jimin immediately began applauding far more enthusiastically than the occasion probably warranted.Yoongi looked at the cake before letting out a quiet laugh.
For the next half hour, the four of you shared cake and stories from the past six weeks. Jin brought up the day Yoongi accidentally made three iced lattes instead of hot ones during the morning rush and then argued about why he couldn’t just microwave them instead of remaking them. Jimin reminded everyone about the caramel bottle Yoongi had somehow launched across the prep counter and into the middle of the lobby. You contributed the chocolate syrup incident. Yoongi insisted you’d exaggerated every detail.
For a little while, nobody thought about the fact that this was the last time the four of you would close the café together. Eventually, Jin glanced at the clock, “I should finish inventory and lock up.” Jimin stretched as he stood up, “I’ll help.” Within minutes the dining area had emptied, leaving only you and Yoongi finishing the last of the cleanup.
You gathered the remaining plates while he carried the leftover cake box toward the back. Neither of you noticed you’d walked toward the cooler from opposite directions until the heavy door swung open. You stepped inside at the exact moment he stepped out. The narrow space wasn’t built for two people. You instinctively moved to one side. So did he. You both laughed quietly before trying again. Again, you ended up blocking each other’s path.
“After you.”, he said. You smiled, “You first. Neither of you moved. The cooler suddenly felt much smaller than it had a moment ago. The hum of the refrigeration units filled the silence. You looked up. He was already looking at you. For a long moment, neither of you spoke. Your heart began beating a little faster. “So…”, you said softly, “I guess this is it.” His smile faded just enough to reveal something more vulnerable beneath it, “I guess it is.”
The words settled between you. You hadn’t expected this to feel so final. Monday morning the café would open. Customers would line up. Life would continue. Only he would be back upstairs and not next to you. “I never thought I’d say this.”, you admitted with a small laugh, “but I’m actually going to miss arguing with you.” A quiet smile touched his lips, “I’ll still be here every morning for my usual coffee…I’m sure I can fit in a few jabs here and there.”
Your smile lingered. He took one slow step closer, “But…I don’t think I’ll come downstairs just for the coffee anymore.” Your breath caught. The space between you disappeared almost without either of you noticing. He hesitated, giving you every chance to step away. Instead you closed the remaining distance.
His lips met yours gently at first, almost questioning. When you didn’t pull away, the kiss deepened naturally. Weeks of lingering glances, quiet smiles, shared laughter, and almost moments melted into that one kiss. Your hand found the front of his shirt almost instinctively. His hands rested lightly against your waist. Neither of you seemed eager to be the first to pull away. When you finally did, your foreheads remained close together. He smiled, “So…I’ve wanted to do that for a long time.”
He laughed softly before leaning in again. The second kiss was less hesitant. His hand slipped gently to the small of your back, drawing you a little closer as your fingers curled around the fabric of his shirt. For one dangerous moment, it became very easy to forget where you were. The cooler. The café. Jin and Jimin out front. Reality returned all at once. You reluctantly rested a hand against his chest, “Wait.” He immediately stopped and you continued, “We’re going to get caught.”
He glanced toward the cooler door before letting out a quiet laugh. You smiled, “And I like my job.” He gave you another quick kiss, “And I’d rather you keep it so I can see you every day.” He was quiet for a moment, studying you with that thoughtful expression you’d grown so fond of. Then a small smile appeared, “Let’s go to my office.” You pretended to consider it for all of two seconds, “Okay.”
A few minutes later and after some quick mumbled excuses to Jin and Jimin and a ride up to the 78th floor, the elevator doors opened onto the executive floor. You’d seen this level once before when you dropped off some coffee during a big conference meeting but that was it. Walking through it beside Yoongi felt completely different. The offices were quiet now, the day’s event long since over. Floor-to-ceiling windows stretched along the hallway, overlooking a city beginning to glow beneath the evening sky. He led you to the very end of the corridor.
Large solid cherry wood doors swung open into an office unlike anything you’d imagined. It was enormous. Warm wood lined the walls. Bookshelves stretched from floor to ceiling. A grand piano sat near one corner. The wall behind his desk was nothing but floor to ceiling glass windows, revealing a breathtaking view of the city lights stretching toward the horizon. You turned slowly, taking it all in, “…This is incredible.” Yoongi looked around the room, “Yeah…well when you pretty much live in your office you try to make it as comfy as possible.”
A faint smile crossed his face. You wandered toward the windows, resting a hand lightly against the glass as thousands of lights shimmered below, “It’s beautiful.”
You turned back toward him. He was still standing by the door, watching you instead of the skyline. Without breaking eye contact, he reached behind him. The soft click of the lock echoed through the quiet office.
Your heartbeat skipped. The room suddenly felt a little smaller, despite being the largest office you’d ever seen. “Y/N," he murmured, his voice incredibly low, thick with a dangerous combination of restraint and lingering desire, “Do I have your permission to do exactly as I please right now?"
"Yes.”, you whispered without a second thought, the word a breathless vow in the quiet room. A soft, approving hum vibrated from his chest. He walked over and reached towards his desk where a spare silk tie lay draped carelessly over the corner of his laptop. He picked it up, letting the expensive fabric slide through his fingers as he stepped into your space.
"Take your shirt off and turn around.”, he murmured, his voice a low, gravelly command. You obeyed, your heart hammering against your ribs as you dropped your shirt and bra onto the floor beside you. A moment later, he gathered your wrists behind your back. The cool, smooth silk of the tie wrapped firmly around your wrists, binding them together. He pulled the knot snug not tight enough to hurt, but secure enough to make it instantly clear that your hands were no longer yours to use. The sudden restriction sent a shiver straight down your spine. Before you could fully process the feeling of being bound, Yoongi reached onto a nearby shelf where another spare tie lay rolled. Unfurling the smooth fabric, he brought it to your face. “Close your eyes Y/N.”, he commanded softly.
You obeyed and a second later, the silk was wrapped snugly over your eyes, secured at the back of your head. Darkness descended instantly. Without your sight, the remaining senses heightened to an almost agonizing degree. The cool air of the office on your skin, the scent of his citrus cologne mixed with coffee, and the heavy sound of his breathing all filled your mind.
The feeling of being completely bound and blinded, standing before him in his own office, made a sweet, heavy ache bloom between your thighs. A soft, helpless whimper escaped your lips, a tiny sound of submission that felt incredibly loud in the quiet room. Yoongi paused, his breath catching just inches from your face. A low, dark chuckle vibrated in his chest. "God…”, he murmured, his thumb brushing over your lower lip, “You have no idea how long I've wanted to hear you make a sound like that. It sounds exactly like I imagined."
Even blindfolded and bound, a spark of playful defiance flared in your chest. "Exactly like you imagined?", you teased softly, tilting your face toward the warmth of his touch, “Have you been spending a lot of time imagining my sounds, Min Yoongi?"
The silence stretched for a heartbeat, thick and heavy with tension. When he spoke again, his voice dropped an octave, rough and completely unraveled. "More than you know.”, he admitted, his hand sliding up to cup your jaw, “I've sat right here at this desk, late at night, pleasuring myself until I was completely blind just thinking about you in this office. Thinking about having you right where you are now." The sheer honesty of his confession sent a violent rush of heat straight to your core, making your knees instantly weak.
Yoongi’s hands slid up your bound arms, tracing the line of your shoulders before his fingers tangled into your hair, tilting your head back. He leaned down and kissed you, a deep, possessive, hungry kiss that tasted faintly of the chocolate cake from earlier. You gasped into his mouth, completely unraveled by the sheer dominance of his touch.
He broke the kiss, his hands guiding you back a few steps until your hips met the edge of his massive desk. He lifted you effortlessly, seating you on the polished wood. Yoongi didn't give you time to think. His hands slid down to the top of your jeans, undoing the button before hooking his fingers into the waistband. He slid them down your legs and tossed them away, completely exposing your core.
Instead of pulling you closer, Yoongi sank to his knees on the floor between your open legs. Your breath hitched as his hands gripped your outer thighs, spreading them wide. You tried to shift, but with your arms bound behind your back and your vision gone, you were completely at his mercy, forced to anticipate his touch in the dark.
When his tongue made contact with your core, your head snapped back, a sharp groan escaping your lips and echoing off the high ceilings. He was relentless, starting with long, deep strokes that smoothed over your damp heat, tasting the slickness that had already gathered there.
He discovered your rhythm instantly because you couldn't use your hands or see his movements, every sensation was magnified ten fold. His thumb found your center, applying just enough pressure to keep you pinned to his mouth, while his tongue flicked over you over and over, precise and demanding.
"Yoongi, please.”, you whined, your shoulders tensing as the friction built a frantic, coiled tension in your lower belly. He didn't slow down. He drank you in as you began to tremble, his tongue moving faster, driving you ruthlessly toward the edge. Your body arched off the desk, your breath catching in your throat as a sudden, sharp orgasm rippled through you. Yoongi stayed right there through every pulsing wave, capturing your release until your breathing slowed to ragged pants.
The heavy silence of the room returned, broken only by the sound of your synchronized, ragged breathing. Slowly, Yoongi withdrew, a low exhale leaving his lips as the sudden absence of the heat of his mouth left you shivering. But he wasn't done.
His hands returned to your waist, not to hold you, but to guide you down. With your knees trembling and your wrists still securely bound behind your back, you sank forward, guided entirely by his firm touch until the plush carpet met your knees.
You hovered there in the darkness of the blindfold, completely exposed and breathless. You heard the rustle of his movements, the soft shifting of fabric, the clink of the metal on his belt, before his fingers gently caught your chin, tilting your face upward. Slowly and gently, his hand slid from your chin to the back of your neck, his fingers tangling into your hair with a tender but unyielding grip. He guided you forward, the heat of his proximity filling your senses until the bare, rounded softness of his top pressed against your lips.
"Open.”, he commanded softly. You parted your lips, welcoming him. Yoongi let out a loud ragged groan as your warmth enveloped him. He began to move, using your mouth to pleasure himself with slow, deliberate strokes. Without your hands to hold onto him or your eyes to track his movements, every slide of his skin against yours felt magnified. The taste of him, the heavy rhythm of his hips, and the sound of his breath and even a little whimper catching in his throat filled your entire universe.
As the friction began to build an unbearable, teasing heat back in your own lower belly, you desperately needed something, anything, to press against and relieve it. Blindly, your hips shifted even closer to the floor. Your knees parted slightly as you felt the texture of soft, cotton fabric beneath you. It was the the pile of discarded clothes, bunched up and carelessly laying on the ground.
Driven by pure instinct, you leaned forward, arching your lower body and desperately grinding your sensitive, aching core against the crumpled fabric, seeking any relief from the persistent ache between your thighs.
Above you, Yoongi suddenly froze. His breath hitched violently, a sharp, ragged sound tearing from his lungs. Through the blindfold, you couldn't see the expression on his face, but you felt the sudden, intense tremor that racked his entire frame. The sight of you, bound, blindfolded, entirely submissive to his touch while mindlessly, desperately seeking friction right in front of him on his office rug shattered whatever fragile restraint he had left.
A low, guttural growl vibrated deep in his chest. His grip on your hair tightened as his pace became frantic and unraveled for a split second. He was right on the precipice, the overwhelming heat of your mouth and the sheer visual of your desperation tearing his control to shreds.
Just as the sensation built to an explosive breaking point, Yoongi suddenly gripped your hair and pulled back, tearing himself away from your lips just in time. He fell back a step and sat down in his leather executive chair, his chest heaving violently as he fought for breath, leaving you breathless, aching, and suspended in the dark.
Before you could fully recover, you felt his strong hands lift you from the floor. Still blindfolded you gasped as he guided you up so that you were straddling him. You could feel his bare, hard length pressing right against your aching entrance.
"Yoongi...", you whispered, adjusting to the sudden shift in gravity with your hands still bound tightly behind your back. "You know what to do.”, Yoongi commanded in your ear, his voice rough and uneven. His hands came to rest on your hips, guiding you downward, “Slowly."
Without your hands for balance, you had to rely entirely on the strength of your legs and the steady anchor of his grip on your hips. Guided by the darkness, you lowered yourself down onto him. Yoongi let out a low, ragged hiss through his teeth, his fingers digging into your waist as you took his length all at once. The sheer heat and fullness of him filled the lingering ache between your thighs. You paused for a fraction of a second adjusting to the sensation before you began to move your hips, sliding up and down his length in the dark.
"Fuck Y/N.,”, Yoongi muttered, his head falling back against the leather of the chair as you set the pace. His chest rose and fell sharply against yours. The rhythm was intoxicating. Every time you came down, he met your movements with a subtle, upward thrust of his hips, driving deeper inside you. The pleasure began to rebuild, sharper and hotter than before, magnified by the sensory deprivation of the blindfold.
But Yoongi’s patience was short-lived. He grabbed your waist, stopping your movement mid-stride. He lifted you off his lap, his hands firmly guiding your trembling body until your front met the smooth, cool surface of the floor-to-ceiling windows.
The sudden, freezing contrast of the glass against your flushed skin made you gasp, the chill biting into your chest and thighs. Outside, the blurred, distant lights of the city stretched out into the night, but you couldn't see them, you could only feel the massive, imposing expanse of the window supporting your weight as Yoongi pressed you flat against it.
"Yoongi.”, you breathed, your voice trembling as the sheer vulnerability of the position settled in. Behind you, the room was silent except for the sound of his heavy, ragged breathing. He didn't answer with words. Instead, his broad chest flushed against your back, trapping you securely between his radiating body heat and the cool window. His hands slid down your spine to your hips, his fingers digging in with a bruising, possessive grip that left no room for retreat. He pulled your hips back slightly, arching your spine and aligning your body perfectly with his.
When the blunt tip of his length pressed against your aching, sensitive entrance, a shiver ran straight down your spine. "Don’t worry…only I can see you like this from up here.”, Yoongi murmured against the shell of your ear, his voice a desperate, gravelly sound that sent a thrill through your veins.
Then he pushed forward. He took you from behind in one deep, unyielding thrust that bottomed out inside you. A loud, breathless cry escaped your lips, echoing sharply off the glass. The sensation was overwhelming, the friction, the sudden overflowing fullness, and the cold glass stealing the breath from your lungs all collided at once. Yoongi didn't give you a moment to adjust. He established a relentless, punishing rhythm, his hips crashing against yours with a raw intensity that had been building since he first tied your wrists. Every heavy thrust pushed you harder against the window, the glass groaning faintly under the pressure of your shifting bodies.
Without your hands to anchor you, your body rumbled with every impact. You were entirely dependent on his grip on your waist to keep you upright. The sensory deprivation magnified everything to a breaking point, the slick, wet friction between your thighs, the heat of his skin against your back, and the dominant, rhythmic thud of his body driving into yours.
"Ah! Yoongi, please, it's too much.”, you sobbed out, your head tossing blindly against the cool glass as the tension coiled tight and fierce in your lower belly. "It's not enough.”, he growled in response. His pace quickened becoming faster, harder, and entirely unmerciful. He used his left hand to lift up your left thigh widening the space he had to move and allowing him to reach even deeper inside you. Then his thumb found your sensitive core, he pressed down on your clit as his right had came around and squeeze your breast. At this point he was practically holding you up with his own strength pounding into you as hard and as fast as he could against the glass. He angled his thrusts deeper, hitting the exact spot that sent electric sparks straight to your core.
The friction was blinding. You curled your toes, your thighs shaking violently as the waves of a second, even more intense climax began to crash over you. You were completely at his mercy, suspended in the dark, vibrating with a pleasure so sharp it felt like a ache.
"Yoongi…I'm going to…”
"Go.”, he ordered, his voice breaking as his own pace became frantic, pushed over the edge by the tight, pulsing heat wrapping around him, “Let me feel it. Let me feel you come undone around me. I need it. I…want it.”
With a final, devastatingly deep thrust, your body shattered. A high, fractured undone sound tore from your throat as your orgasm ripped through you, your internal muscles clenching fiercely around his length. The sheer force of your release triggered his own. Yoongi let out a low, guttural ruin of a groan against your neck, driving into you one last time as he spent himself deep inside you, his chest heaving violently against your back as the world faded into nothing but the heat of his touch.
The cold glass of the high-rise window slowly seeped into your skin, grounding you as the adrenaline began to fade. Behind you, Yoongi still buried deep inside you, remained still for a long moment, his forehead resting against your shoulder blade as his breathing gradually mirrored your own ragged pace.
When he finally moved, it was with an unexpected gentleness. He shifted away to give you room, but his hands stayed on your waist, steadying your trembling legs until he was certain you wouldn't collapse. A second later, you felt the restriction around your eyes fall away. The sudden bright blur of the city lights and the dimmed office lamps made you blink rapidly, the dark room slowly coming back into focus. Yoongi reached around you, his fingers deftly untying the silk knot at your wrists. As your hands were freed, you immediately brought them forward, rubbing your skin and turning around to face him. He looked completely unraveled with his hair a beautifully messy contrast to the perfectly styled look from earlier and a soft, incredibly tender expression on his face that you had never seen before.
"You okay?", he asked, his voice still low and a little gravelly. “Yeah.”, you smiled as you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling yourself against the solid warmth of his chest, “More than okay actually." He let out a soft laugh, his arms locking around your waist to lift you slightly off your feet as he sat back down in his chair and held you close against him in his lap.
Later, after you had both gotten dressed and successfully snuck past a very knowing security guard in the parking garage, you walked out into the cool night air. The rain had cleared, leaving the city streets glistening under the neon signs.
Yoongi reached down, his fingers sliding between yours and squeezing your hand tightly as you walked toward his car. “So…”, you said, glancing up at him with a playful smirk, "what happens on Monday when you're back in your suit and I'm behind the counter?" Yoongi didn't look away from the path ahead, but a genuine, effortless smile spread across his face, lighting up his eyes. "On Monday, at exactly 8:10, I'm coming down to get a medium americano. And if the barista doesn't have it perfectly made in a sufficient amount of time…I might just have to make them come upstairs to my office and explain themselves."
You laughed, leaning your head against his shoulder as you walked together. The six weeks were over and the café routine would go back to normal but as you looked at your tangled hands, you knew your mornings would never be the same again.
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