cowlick a min yoongi one-shot
pairing: idol!min yoongi x wife!f!reader
genre: pwp
rating: explicit content MDNI!!!
summary: you're the reason why your husband’s hair is a mess for the 'hooligan' mv.
warnings/tags: yoongi pov, quickie in a trailer, riding, unprotected sex, they're married and reader wants to get pregnant, his boys make fun of him lol
wc: 1.7k
notes: i say im burnt out from writing smut and then i go and write this. it's just bc yoongi makes me so insane 😩 this was inspired by a convo between myself and aqua (contents of which may or may not be based on real life events) so im dedicating this to her 🫶💜 thank u for betaing last minute!!
Yoongi’s supposed to be on set. But instead he’s sweating under his leather outfit with you spread out on his lap, bouncing on his cock.
It starts off with him just going to his trailer because he forgot his lucky bracelet (the one you gave him on his birthday the first year you celebrated together). The door almost hits him on the ass by the time you jump him, and he barely has time to be surprised before you grab his face and pull him down.
“How’d you sneak in here?” he chuckles between breathless kisses, hands going to your waist like clockwork.
“I’m your wife. Duh,” you snap, fingers ensnaring the heavy chains around his neck.
“I start filming in five minutes.”
“I’ll be quick.” He never argues with you. He lets you push him down on the couch, straddle him, kiss and lick at the base of his neck, knowing you don’t need the reminder not to make marks unless you want a hit put on you by his stylist, and you’re always careful not to touch his face for that same reason. It takes him a second to realize you’re wearing a skirt. He opens his mouth to scold you for coming to see him in clothes like that since it’s so cold out but then you reach under to dip into your bare, sopping pussy. Ah. Easy access. You came with a plan.
In all the years you’ve been together, it’s never taken much for you to get him hard. You walk into a room and bam - he has to adjust himself. And when you touch him - there goes his thoughts for a few minutes. It’s always been like this, and he knows it’ll never change. So when you figure out how to get into his boxers without pushing down too much leather, he’s already stiff and leaking at the tip.
You smear down his precum and he bites his lip when you grab his cock with the fingers you had between your legs, glistening with your slick, making him nice and wet for you.
“Damn, baby. Were you playing with yourself while you waited for me?”
“Mhmm,” you nod, whimpering as you finally let him penetrate your walls. You’re so wet and warm and tight when you sink down on him that he has to hold in a breath to keep himself together. But then he reminds himself that this is a quickie. He knows you could stay here and ride him until his balls are empty, but, unfortunately, he doesn’t have that kind of time. His phone - that he shouldn’t even have on him in the first place (he does though, just for you) - has been vibrating in his pocket for the past few minutes, but the more he’s distracted, the longer it’ll take him to make you both come, so he ignores it.
Your hands grip his shoulders as you wiggle your hips to adjust to his girth that he finds so fucking cute every single time, but he can hardly feel your touch through the thick leather of his jacket. He curses, because his fingerless gloves are preventing him from fully touching the skin on your hip, so he grips you hard enough to bruise. Usually, he’d let you bounce and ride him until you came on him and got too tired to carry on, but to speed things up, he bucks up into you, watching your parted lips spill out moans as he grinds against your spot, grunting as it makes you squeeze him and suck him deeper in. He kisses you, swallowing your sweet sounds, and his balls tighten when your fingers dig into the side of his head, tightly fisting his hair. Telltale sign that you’re close. You must've really worked yourself up while you were waiting for him.
“Come for me,” he whispers against your lips, fingers dropping and finding your clit to press and rub you over the edge. You loudly cry out his name, pulling at his hair so his head tips to the side as he continues fucking up into you and kissing the underside of your jaw. “That’s it, baby. Fuck, you’re squeezing me so good.”
“Come inside," you warble, cheek lolling against his temple, fingers still entangled in his hair, cunt clenching him through your aftershocks.
“Mm.” Eyebrows pinched, his fingers return to flex on your hip, cock twitching at the mere thought of getting to fill you up. “Remember to take your pill.”
You whine, indignant. He sighs, shakes his head. You make that sound when he doesn’t give you what you want.
“I’ll give you a baby when we come back from tour, ‘kay?”
You whine again, louder and borderline disobedient, slamming down on him like it tells him something. Sucking in a hiss because damn that felt good, he slaps your ass and massages out the sting, a silent warning to stop being a brat. This is one thing he’s not going to let you win an argument about.
“Hey, that was the deal, right? I’m not leaving you at home alone and pregnant while I fly around the world for eight months.”
“Yeah, but by the time you’d get back, you’d have a baby. You wouldn’t have to deal with all my pregnancy bullshit,” you try to reason, hips still rolling, eyes glassy and pout pathetic. He frowns. You’ve both had this conversation multiple times before, but that’s the first time you’ve made this point. He doesn’t fucking like it.
Yoongi tugs down on your waist to get you to stop, pelvises pressed together, cock deep inside you. But you know better than to move.
“Look at me.” You refuse, and the leather of his fingerless gloves rubs your cheeks as he grabs them. “I want to deal with all your pregnancy bullshit. I married you, remember? I signed up to put up with all your bullshit for the rest of my life and I don’t plan on missing out on any of it.”
His eyes dart between both of yours, making sure what he said is sticking with you, and when you lean in to sloppily kiss him, he knows the message got through.
“Now, c’mon. You said you were gonna be quick.”
You sit up straighter, and you’re clearly weakened from your orgasm but you put in effort that he’ll worship you for later to bring him to his own peak. Slick sounds of your pussy and slams of your hips fill the trailer, and within seconds of you squeezing him, sucking on his earlobe, and toying with his chains, he’s muttering an incoherent string of curses and spilling deep inside you. His balls just keep pulsing and holyyy shit, he really could get you pregnant right now. (He would love nothing more, but later he’ll text you another reminder to take your pill).
“I love you so fucking much,” he pants into your neck, wishing he had the time to leave his mark. “Even though you’re gonna get me in so much fucking trouble.”
“Love you, too. Don’t forget you married trouble,” You grin, waggling his ring on your finger in his facr, and his hips jerk as you lift off of him. He tips his chin up when you start to lean in for another kiss but your mouth drops and your eyes go wide.
“Oh, fuck, your hair-“ You reach out to try and fix it, but just as you do, a loud pounding on the trailer door startles the both of you.
“Shit, gotta go,” Yoongi mutters, quickly stuffing himself back in this godforsaken leather as his manager starts yelling for him to come out. You try your best to smooth down his hair, but when you keep muttering curses under your breath, he knows it’s not working.
“It’s fine. I’ll see you later.” He kisses you, lingers a second longer than he has time for, and leaves you sitting on the couch, skirt halfway up your waist, fingers playing with his cum dripping out. Fuck, you’re gonna be the death of him. He needs to shoot this music video first.
Yoongi’s manager chews him all the way out onto the set, and his stylist gives him the evilest eye when she catches sight of his hair. He just scurries towards his band because his manager already said there’s no time to fix it.
“Where were you?” Namjoon exclaims as Yoongi walks towards the center of the platform. He shrugs, like he’s not still perspiring and his dick isn’t still hard. Luckily, his leather pants are bulky enough to hide it.
“I had to grab something.”
“Look at his hair! That means his honey came to visit,” Hobi says, waggling his brows. Yoongi shoots him daggers.
“Shut up.”
The maknaes burst into raucous laughter and Taehyung and Jimin mime grabbing at each other, making overexaggerated kissing noises and mimicking the way you cry out Yoongi’s name. Yoongi turns his back on them to go to his spot, just missing Jeongguk thrusting in the air like he’s mid-Baepsae.
“You brought this on yourself,” Namjoon mutters, stepping up next to him, fixing his gloves. Yoongi pretends not to hear. “It’s been, what, four years? And y’all still act like newlyweds.”
“We’re making up for the time we missed while I was in the military.”
Namjoon’s face pulls back, disgusted. “Okay, well, can you not do that on our schedule?”
“Sorry, leader-nim,” Yoongi fake apologizes, pressing his hands together, smirk lopsided and shit-eating. “Maybe if you let her come on tour, she wouldn’t find any downtime I have now to, yknow, make up.”
Namjoon sighs, long and distressed. Yoongi only feels a little bad. You’re his wife. He needs you by his side, and not just to have little quickies whenever there’s minutes to spare. He was enough of a wreck being away from you during his service. He doesn’t want that to happen because of work.
“Fine. I’ll see what I can do.”
Yoongi smiles, lighting up inside and out. “Thanks, bro. You’re the best.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Namjoon waves him off, just in time for the director to call for action.
He doesn’t know how crazy his hair looks until they play the footage back to check for mistakes and potential position adjustments. His band members tease him, but it makes him smile that it’s there because you need to grab onto his hair when he makes you come. No one outside of this set will ever know his cowlick is thanks to his wife, and that makes him like it even more.
He still left his damn bracelet.
.
.
.
thank you for reading!!! ahhhh i cant believe this happened lmao pls let me know what you think with comments and reblogs!! 💜
୨ৎ SUMMARY !! You’re fresh off another breakup, furious at your own body for never responding the way it’s “supposed” to—and even more furious at the sinking fear that something might be wrong with you. When late-night research leads you toward fantasies you’ve never dared to voice, you turn to the one person you trust most: your best friend.
୨ৎ TAGS/WARNINGS !! NSFW, MDNI (18+), childhood friends (and roommates out of convenience) to lovers, exploration of D/s dynamics and BDSM, references to secretary (2002) which will be a running bit throughout this series for me, everyone is very queer in this, bisexual yoongi, bisexual MC, taehyung and jimin are dating, MC is going through it right off the bat my poor girl, MANY references to bad sex/not being able to cum or get aroused/etc., there's a scene in this where MC watches porn, masturbation (kind of but not really), i think that's it
୨ৎ WORDCOUNT !! 9.7k
୨ৎ AUTHOR'S NOTE !! HELLOOOOOOOO GLOSSDEBUT NATION! the way i was in the middle of formatting this post when i got the weverse notif for the new army bomb 😭 how rude of them to steal my thunder (just kidding we planned it)
this fic has been in the works for... five months? maybe longer??? and i'm legitimately so excited to finally share it with you all! i don't want to give too much away upfront but i would be remiss if i didn't thank yaz @agust-doll for being my sounding board for this fic since the very beginning <3 yaz it has been so, so fun to bullshit with you about this fic and hearing your 30 minute voice note after you beta read just made me even more excited to keep it going. i love u pookie (: also thank you to claret @yoonmetogether and K @ktownshizzle for beta reading along with yaz. thank you My Knowers
happy reading! i hope you all enjoy! here's to Another Fucking Yoongi Series and many more yet to come in the year of bts 2026 because i am not normal about this man
chapter 1: the first taste (♬)
When you get dumped enough times in a row, you learn to notice the signs in advance.
Your partner, once eager and excited to see you during every free moment, starts to pull away. Suddenly, they're too busy to hang out. Their normally easygoing job starts demanding the world of them, seemingly out of nowhere. Phone calls become less frequent. Texts lose their enthusiasm, or stop entirely.
You knew it was coming. All week, your days have been underscored with a sense of dread that's become all too familiar to you lately.
When you get dumped this time, you don't even cry. Mostly, you're just annoyed. Annoyed that you've wasted your time, again. That you stupidly expected this one to be different. That you have to go home and explain to your roommate that yet another notch in your belt has amounted to absolutely nothing. That it's not even the poor guy's fault—it's yours.
It's always your fault.
You've suspected that something is deeply, horribly wrong with you for a long time now. This year's failed relationship number four is just more evidence to support the theory. Rubbing salt in a wound that's been festering for… god, a decade? Longer?
The first time you had sex, you thought to yourself, this is it? And you've been smacked in the face with the universe's emphatic yes every single time since.
It's been the same way since your very first relationship, back in high school. You start seeing someone who checks all of your boxes on paper—intelligent, attractive, driven—but the second things start to get physical, your body just refuses to cooperate.
You even thought, for a while, that maybe you'd overestimated your attraction to men, prematurely labeled yourself as bisexual when you were actually a lesbian. It made sense, at the time. But when you dated a woman for the first time during your senior year of college, the result was more of the same.
It doesn't matter how hard you try to make things work, and you've tried real fucking hard.
Lots and lots of foreplay. Different positions. Fingers and oral and toys.
You've had caring, attentive partners who actually give a shit if you cum. But despite their very best efforts, nine times out of ten you just can't. You struggle to even get very wet most of the time, to the point where you've gotten in the habit of carrying a travel sized bottle of lube in your purse.
People say that the definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over and expecting a different result, so. Maybe you're insane. Who fucking knows?
You're insane and you can't cum. A real winner.
And now you have to go home and face Yoongi, and he's just going to smell the failure on you.
Fuck.
Yoongi may be your best friend, but you hate talking to him about your love life. Not because you don't trust him! That man would take a bullet for you, even if he'd hold it over your head for the rest of your life. Truthfully, you don't know exactly why you hate it. You just know it makes you feel queasy.
It could be because Yoongi, to your knowledge, has never had much of a problem in that department. You've been his roommate for years. You watched the endless string of hookups he paraded in and out of your shared apartment in college.
It was honestly crazy. You were worried for his health. He's slowed down in the years since you both graduated, but you know it isn't due to a lack of options. He's just got more shit to worry about now that he isn't a student. Less time to get his dick wet, you suppose.
You just don't want him to be, like, disappointed in you for failing again. Maybe that's stupid, but… you're stupid sometimes.
Whatever.
Once you pull into the parking lot, you immediately climb out of your car and trudge up the stairs of your apartment building. There's no point in delaying the inevitable, and you honestly just want to get it over with.
You know Yoongi is home. He sets his own schedule and he works from the apartment, which means he's probably cooking dinner right about now. He usually times it so he's awake and prepping the ingredients by the time you're home, so you can tell him about your shitty day at work while he cooks. The lukewarm breakup you played your part in tonight has only made you a little late.
You rummage around in your bag until your fingers find purchase on the key Yoongi had made when you both moved in last spring. A bigger place, an upgrade you could both afford thanks to Yoongi's promotion and your brand new "big girl job." To celebrate, Yoongi got the dumbest set of keys he could get his hands on. Shaggy and Scooby. You're the dog, of course.
You push the key into the lock and turn it, greeted with the smell of garlic and onions when you open the door. You drop your bag, kick your shoes off at the rack by your feet, peel off your coat, and brace yourself as you walk down the hallway into the kitchen.
When you turn the corner, he's facing away from you, standing at the stove in an old gray sweatshirt, sleeves pushed up. His dark hair is still mussed from his ritualistic post-work nap, and he's cutting glossy glass noodles with scissors as marinated meat sizzles in a pan.
You hover in the doorway for a second, watching his back.
"Hey."
Yoongi glances over his shoulder at the sound of your voice, eyes flicking to your face, and whatever he sees there makes his brows knit together almost imperceptibly. He turns the stove down, sets the bowl of noodles aside, and faces you fully.
"Bad day?"
You hum, already queasy. "You could say that."
He hums back, then jerks his chin toward the counter. "Sit. Dinner’s almost done. We're having japchae."
"I’m not hungry."
“Mm,” he says. “Sit anyway.”
Without protest, you hop up onto the high stool, feet dangling, hands tucked into your sleeves like you’re trying to disappear into yourself.
Yoongi goes back to the stove, but you can tell his focus is split now. He keeps glancing over at you, like he’s waiting for you to speak first. You don’t.
After a few minutes, he sighs softly and turns off the burner completely. He leans his hip against the counter, arms crossed.
"So," he says gently. "How's what's-his-face?"
What's-his-face. Hm.
Yoongi knows his name. You know he knows his name, because he's met him, just like he's met all your other partners over the years. Normally, you'd be annoyed by the nickname. It's not like it matters anymore, though.
You fold your arms on the counter, pressing your forehead to your sleeves. "What's-his-face is done," you say simply, not wanting to get into it.
"Oh yeah?" Yoongi asks knowingly. At least it's easier having this conversation with your head down. You don't have it in you to look him in the eye.
"Mhm."
"That's a shame," he says, and you hear the metallic clink of utensils as he goes back to preparing dinner. "Are you okay?"
"I guess," you mutter, closing your eyes. "It's not like I was with him for long, you know? And I kinda knew it was coming."
"How so?"
You scoff. "Haven't you noticed that I've been with you every day after work for, like, two weeks?"
"Mm. Yeah, I guess that isn't a good sign."
The sound of ceramic sliding against granite forces you to lift your head, and you blink at the plate that's appeared in front of you.
"I told you I wasn't hungry," you mumble.
"You're just going to feel worse if you don't eat anything," Yoongi reasons, reaching out to flick lightly at your forehead. "Don't be a baby. You love japchae."
Scowling, you rub your forehead and wordlessly reach for the chopsticks on your plate.
"Do you want to talk about it?" he asks, softer now.
"Not really," you mutter, taking a small bite of noodles. It's good. He was right. "I'm fine, it's just annoying."
"Annoying?" Yoongi leans against the counter between you as he gathers his own bite.
"Getting dumped again."
"It's part of the process," he says as he chews. "You know what they say. Gotta kiss a lot of frogs, or whatever."
You know he's just trying to make you feel better, but you can't help but scoff. "Honestly, it kinda feels like I'm the frog, Yoongi."
"Yah, look at me," Yoongi says, and you do. "You're not a frog. That's stupid. And for the record, what's-his-face is also stupid for dumping you in the first place."
"He had his reasons," you reply bitterly. Like the fact that you're physically incapable of having an orgasm with another person, for one.
He scoffs. "Yeah? Like what?"
You stare at your noodles, realizing the opening you just offered. Nope. You're not having this conversation with him. It's not happening.
"It doesn't matter," you say, pushing your plate away weakly. "Look, this is great, but I really just want to take a shower and go to bed, okay?"
Yoongi watches you for a moment, eyes searching your face like he’s trying to decide how hard to push. Then he frowns, resigned.
“Yeah,” he says. “Okay.”
Relief loosens something in your chest, immediately followed by guilt.
You slide off the stool. “I’ll… wrap this up,” you offer, even though you both know he’s going to beat you to it.
“Don’t worry about it,” he says, waving you off. “I’ll handle it.”
You're unsure what to do with your hands, your body, yourself, so you start to retreat to your room like you said you would.
"Night," you mumble.
"Night."
The bathroom light is harsh after the warmth of the kitchen. You strip out of your clothes and step under the spray, letting the water pound against your shoulders until your skin starts to sting. You rest your forehead against the tile and close your eyes.
You hate that this keeps happening. Hate that you feel defective, like there’s a piece of you everyone else got instructions for and you somehow missed. Hate that you can’t even articulate it properly without sounding like a freak.
By the time you crawl into bed, your hair damp and your head aching, the apartment is quiet. You assume Yoongi has retreated to his room for the night, door closed, headphones on.
Good. You have research to do.
You prop yourself up against your pillows, tug your blanket over your legs, and reach for your phone. The screen lights up your face in the dark, and even though you're alone, you shamefully rush to turn your brightness as low as it'll go.
Then, with a kind of bitter determination, you open a private browser tab.
why can’t i orgasm with a partner?
Article after article fills your screen tormenting you with detailed anatomical diagrams for men without a clue. Not helpful.
You try again.
low arousal but high libido
This time, you're met with medical jargon that makes your eyes glaze over, citing prescription medications as a possible reason for your problem, and suggesting different prescription medications to solve it. No thanks.
sex feels boring even with people i like
is it normal to have a difficult time getting wet
aaaaaaafhfhsjdhdjdkwkske is something wrong with me??????
Each search leads you down the same rabbit holes you’ve already crawled through a million times. Articles with "tips and tricks to spice up your sex life!!!" Forums full of strangers insisting it’s asexuality, trauma, hormones, antidepressants, anxiety, attachment styles, moral shame, capitalism, mercury in fucking retrograde.
Then, finally, three pages into another endless sea of search results, something catches your eye.
Getting Started with BDSM and D/s Play
It isn't like you've never heard of BDSM. You're a grown woman with internet access, after all. Thanks to the popularity of shit like Fifty Shades, everyone has a passing knowledge of that world. You remember trying to read it once in college. You never made it past chapter four.
Besides, that kind of thing isn't meant for someone like you, is it? You are, for lack of a better word, boring. Laughably predictable. You work a desk job with reasonable benefits. You rarely go out, and when you do, it's with the same group of friends you've had since college. You've never even had a one night stand.
So, you're clearly not the kind of person who "does BDSM." The phrase alone conjures images that feel lightyears away from your own reality—latex bodysuits, dungeon chains, riding crops. You picture dominatrixes in thigh-high boots, or beefy guys in black masks who call themselves "master." None of it sounds like you. None of it even sounds real.
But it isn't like you have a ton of options. At the very least, it's an avenue for you to explore before you rule it out entirely. So you click on it.
You're expecting a porn site, honestly. Garish, explicit ads trying to sell you penis enlargement pills or connect you with hot singles in your area while you read.
But there's none of that. Instead, the website is clean. Clinical, even. Written by someone who sounds less like a sex-crazed internet stranger and more like a therapist—or maybe a teacher. Someone who knows what they’re talking about.
The article walks you through the basics. Consent is the cornerstone. BDSM doesn’t work without communication and boundaries. This isn’t about pain for the sake of pain, or submission to erase autonomy. It’s about creating a space where you can let go because you’ve agreed to the rules. Where trust doesn’t just exist, it’s structured.
You’ve never really thought about sex that way. As a structure. A container. Something with guidelines and rituals and roles. You’ve always approached it like you were supposed to already know what to do. Like you were always already failing because you couldn’t just relax and enjoy yourself.
But what if that wasn’t your fault? What if you’ve never had the right structure?
You keep reading. The article links out to other beginner resources, and you follow each one like a trail of breadcrumbs.
You learn more acronyms—SSC, RACK, CNC. Definitions. Sub vs. dom. Kink vs. fetish. Safe words. Aftercare. Sex contracts??? Whole communities built around something you were taught to dismiss as deviant or degrading. And yet here are people talking about it like having a little bit of kinky sex saved their lives or something. Like it gave them language for feelings they could never articulate.
After a while, you find that you're not just skimming; you're studying. Your eyes trace over every word like you're preparing for a test. You dive into beginner guides, curated book lists, Reddit posts, blog entries. You learn about the physical, yes—ropes and cuffs and spanking and clamps—but you also learn about the mental. Negotiation. Anticipation. Protocols. Praise. Service. Rules and rituals that some people use to ground themselves, but also to feel wanted. Needed. Seen.
It all sounds great! In theory.
But how are you supposed to know if any of this will actually work for you in practice? BDSM or D/s or kink or whatever the hell you're meant to call it (apparently they're all different things, who knew?) is such a broad umbrella, and you don't even know what you like. And given that you can't even be honest with your partners so that they can meet your most basic sexual needs…
It doesn't exactly bode well for being able to ask for them to—what, hit you? There's no way in hell you'd be able to ask some random person to do that. They'd probably run for the fucking hills.
You feel yourself starting to get more and more stressed. You don't want to extinguish that tiny flicker of hope, so you decide to focus on something else. Something more fun.
Like… maybe it is actually a good time to visit one of those sites with the 'hot singles in your area' ads. Maybe if you start to figure out what you might enjoy, you'll have a better idea of what to ask for when the time comes.
You drag yourself out of bed, tiptoeing across the room. Which is ridiculous. You live here. This is your space, and Yoongi is on the other side of the apartment, probably passed out with his own headphones in. Besides, you've lived with him long enough to know he could sleep through a fucking earthquake without any.
Still, you’re quiet. Stealthy. You fish around in the bottom drawer of your desk and pull out your beat-up old headphones. Then you plug them into your phone and climb back into bed, heart hammering, screen still dimmed to the lowest possible brightness.
You pull up a site you haven’t used in ages, mostly because you’ve never once finished a session on it feeling satisfied. It’s always too fake, or too forced, or too loud. Too porny.
But maybe you were looking for the wrong thing.
You scroll past a dozen thumbnails on the homepage without clicking. Anything with studio lighting, waxed bodies, or exaggerated porn faces gets dismissed immediately. Eventually, you start narrowing things down with different tags, different categories, until you find something that interests you enough to click on it.
You burrow further into your blanket, turn your volume low despite your headphones being plugged in, and click play.
The screen stays black for a second, and then there’s a faint rustle, someone fumbling with a camera.
"Look at you. You're making a mess."
The voice behind the camera is deep, a little scratchy. The way he talks isn't theatrical, not too gruff or exaggerated like you expected. That alone is enough for you to give the video a chance.
The camera focuses, finally, and you can see a woman sprawled across a bed, completely naked. She’s flushed, squirming, breathing heavily. She’s tied—her wrists bound to the headboard with rope, thighs spread wide with a bar between them. Her chest lifts and falls in erratic little pants, and her eyes are glazed with a sort of blissed-out daze.
You can’t see the man's face, which is probably for the best. Finding him unattractive would take you out of the fantasy entirely and dump you right back onto the search page. Instead all you see is the hand that isn't holding the camera, wrapped loosely around her throat. Not choking, necessarily—just enough to hold her still, to show who’s in charge.
"You’re drooling from both ends, pet," he continues, tone dripping with condescension. "That desperate to be fucked already?"
The woman whines. Her hips jerk uselessly, like she’s trying to chase a touch that isn't even there.
His hand leaves her throat for just a second. A soft smack, barely audible, echoes through your earbuds as he smacks her cheek in reprimand.
A startled breath slips out of you, pulse skittering, heat blooming low in your belly in a way you’re not used to feeling this fast.
"So shameless," he murmurs. "You should be embarrassed."
"Please," she gasps.
"Please what?" he presses. His fingers slide between her legs, ghosting over her glistening pussy. "Use your words, pet. I’m not gonna play with you if you can’t tell me what you need."
"P-please, sir, I want you to fuck me," she cries. "Please, please—"
He tsks softly. "Yeah? You want my cock that bad? Want me to wreck this pretty little hole until you can’t walk straight?" he taunts, slapping her pussy hard enough that she squeals, her thighs trembling, but not closing. They can’t. Instead, her body opens for him like a flower.
You lick your lips, finding them dry from your panting.
"You’re lucky I even feel like fucking you tonight," he says. "But since you asked so nicely…"
Her eyes go wide like she's hanging on his every word.
"I'll give you what you want, pet."
The woman moans like he’s already inside her. Your thighs press together beneath your blanket, and your free hand drifts lower without conscious thought.
Oh, fuck. You’re wet.
Not just vaguely warm or idly interested. You are actually soaked. Slick enough that when your fingers graze the front of your underwear, they come away damp.
The realization knocks the breath out of you.
The man finally gives the woman what she begged for, and you can’t look away. His voice gets rougher, the rhythm of his thrusts audible in the way the mattress creaks beneath her.
The woman screams. She shakes. She’s not faking shit.
And you're not even really touching yourself, but still, you're flushed and trembling and panting like you’ve just been dragged underwater and resurfaced gasping for air.
It’s overwhelming. Not just the arousal, but the validation of it. Of wanting this. Of responding to this.
You pause the video and lie there in the dark, heart racing, the ache between your legs a quiet, persistent pulse. The blanket is too warm now, your skin still humming, thighs still sticky.
You close your browser, lock your phone with your heart still pounding, and slide it under your pillow again.
It's late.
Horrifically late. You don't have nearly enough time to unpack what all of that meant, even though you desperately want to.
You want to savor this. You want to understand it. Name it. Hold it up to the light and study it, like the answer you’ve been searching for your whole adult life. But you have work in the morning.
You close your eyes and try to sleep.
୨ৎ
You get home just after six, drained down to the marrow.
The elevator ride up to your floor feels like it lasts forever, and when you finally push through the apartment door, it takes every ounce of your remaining energy not to collapse right there in the entryway. Your heels dangle from your fingertips, your hair has half-fallen out of the clip you threw it into this morning, and your makeup has long since given up.
Working as a secretary is not glamorous. People think it is—power blazers and legal drama like you're Donna in Suits or something—but most days, you're just quietly drowning in endless filing, scheduling partner meetings for egos the size of god, and trying not to scream when someone forwards you a 97 page PDF to "clean up" before close of business. You ran entirely on caffeine and spite today, and even that started to run dry around 3 p.m.
Last night’s research session didn’t help, either. You finally forced yourself to close your eyes around 3:30, and your alarm went off at 6:15. You couldn't focus all day. You felt like you were wearing a fucking scarlet letter or something.
The silence of the apartment wraps around you like a weighted blanket, and you sigh as you lose the heels and make your way to your room, already undoing the top buttons of your shirt. The urge to collapse face-first into your comforter is overwhelming.
You don't bother turning your bedroom light on. You just drop your bag, toe the door closed behind you, tug your blouse off the rest of the way, and sink down onto the edge of your bed in your camisole and skirt, shoulders slumped.
You’re debating whether to change clothes or just die here when there’s a knock at your door.
"Hey."
"Yeah?" you call back, not moving.
Yoongi pushes the door open a few inches and peeks his head inside. His hair’s damp, pushed back from a recent shower. He looks at you for a moment—rumpled and wilted and half-undressed on your bed—and raises an eyebrow.
"Wow. You look like a corpse."
"Feel like one," you mumble. "Death by capitalism."
He snorts. "Brutal. The suits worked you hard today?"
You groan, letting your back hit the mattress. "I hate everyone. I hate everything. If one more attorney emails me asking for a document they already have access to, I will throw myself into the Han."
"Solid plan, though I think HR might frown on that."
You close your eyes. “Let them try and stop me.”
He chuckles, and there’s a pause, like he’s gauging how far to push your current state of despair.
"Hey, um," he starts, casual. "Got a text from Jimin earlier."
You open your eyes and prop yourself up slightly, elbows digging into the bed behind you. "Yeah?"
"Yeah. He, Tae, and Hobi are hitting up that new club downtown tonight. Said to invite you."
You make a face. "And you want to go?" you ask, bewildered. "You, Min Yoongi, want to go clubbing?"
Yoongi shrugs. "Figured it might be a good distraction. Y’know. From… what’s-his-face."
Ah. That's why he's offering. He's trying to save you from yourself. You should've known. Yoongi never wants to go out, especially to a club that Jimin picked.
"We don’t have to," he adds quickly. "If you’re dead, you’re dead. Just figured I’d offer."
You sit up slowly, stretching your arms over your head and wincing at the way your spine pops. You feel like shit. Your legs are sore. Your blouse is wrinkled. You fully intended on sleeping through the rest of your Friday night, and most of your Saturday, too.
But…
"Yeah," you say, surprising even yourself. "Yeah, fuck it. If you're in, I'm in."
Yoongi raises his eyebrows. "Yeah?"
You nod, rubbing your eyes. "Just give me thirty minutes to look more human."
"Are you sure you don't need an hour?" he teases. "An hour and a half? Speak now or forever hold your peace."
You toss a pillow at him with one hand and flip him off with the other as he backs out of the room, snickering to himself.
୨ৎ
The club is insane.
It opened a few months ago in an old textile warehouse downtown—completely gutted and reimagined as a fantasy land for people who want to get wasted on a Friday night. The line to get in wraps around the block, but Jimin, of course, knows someone. You’re not even surprised when you bypass the wait entirely, guided in with a wristband that glows faintly under the UV lights.
Inside, the ceiling stretches high above you, strung with dangling light installations that look like electric jellyfish. The DJ booth pulses with fog and lasers, and the bar’s lit from underneath so everyone’s drinks glow as they move through the crowd.
You and Yoongi cut through the crowd together, shoulder to shoulder as you push past clusters of sweaty strangers and swaying bodies. You almost forget how tired you were an hour ago, how bone-deep your exhaustion had settled in. There’s something about the promise of a night out with the right people that revives you.
Jimin’s the first one you see, perched on the edge of a velvet couch in the VIP section he somehow managed to sweet-talk his way into. He lights up when he sees you, arms outstretched in a dramatic flourish.
"There she is!" he sings. "My favorite overworked girlboss!"
You laugh as you approach, Yoongi trailing only a few paces behind you. "You’re drunk already, aren’t you?"
"I’ve been drunk since 5 p.m., baby," Jimin declares proudly, grabbing your hand and tugging you past the velvet ropes. "And you look hot, by the way. Who let you walk out the door like this?"
"I did," Yoongi deadpans.
“Then thank you, Yoongi. I owe you my life.”
Taehyung’s sprawled next to him, waving as he sips something neon green out of a plastic cup. Hoseok’s halfway out of his seat to greet you next before you’ve even set your bag down, wrapping you in a warm hug.
It’s nice. It’s really fucking nice.
You don’t get to do this often—see all of them together like this. You and Yoongi have known them since college, but adult life has a hell of a way of scattering even the most tightly-knit friendships. Different schedules, different cities, different priorities. Sometimes different continents, with Hoseok's dance troupe doing as well as they are. Nights like this feel like slipping back into a version of yourself you almost forgot existed.
"I was starting to think you guys bailed!" Hoseok shouts, releasing you from his hold to dap Yoongi up.
"And miss you being back in town?" you gasp, mock-affronted. "Never!"
"I had to peel her off the floor after work," Yoongi cuts in dryly. "Secretary life."
"You poor thing," Hoseok coos at you as he pinches your cheek.
"I’m never working again," you whine, pouting. "I’m quitting and going full sugar baby."
"Bold of you to assume anyone could afford you," Taehyung drawls, suddenly appearing by your side. He reaches out, takes both of your hands, and spins you once in place before pulling you into a slow, exaggerated dip that makes you laugh. "You’re priceless, darling. Like a Fabergé egg."
You snort. "That’s probably the nicest thing anyone’s said to me all year."
Yoongi taps your arm. "Drinks? I’ll go."
You nod gratefully, waving him off with a little salute as he turns toward the bar and disappears into the crowd. You settle into the couch, sinking next to Hoseok as Jimin and Taehyung drop into the seats across from you.
They immediately pepper you with questions about work, your boss, your love life (you deflect), and your outfit (approved). Hoseok starts scrolling through the group’s old college photos on his phone, passing it around to collective groans and laughter.
You forget to feel weird. You forget to think about what’s-his-face. You forget to care that you were exhausted just an hour ago.
Yoongi reappears a few minutes later holding a tray precariously stacked with glowing cocktails—red, blue, electric green, hot pink—and a whiskey you already know is his. Boring old man.
"Don’t say I never do anything for you," he says, sliding you the pink one.
You smile at him, already pulling the straw between your lips. "My hero."
The song blasting over the sound system fades into something you all recognize, and Taehyung grabs your free hand. "We're dancing now."
"I just sat down," you protest.
"Too bad," Jimin chimes in, jumping to his feet with an eyebrow waggle. "You’re not allowed to wallflower tonight. You've been spending too much time with the old man."
"Okay, okay!" you laugh, nearly spilling your drink as Taehyung tugs you to your feet and forces you to climb over Yoongi's lap. Once you're out of the booth, Jimin flanks your other side like a synchronized pincer movement. "God, give me one second to chug this."
"There's our party girl," Taehyung says approvingly as you down your drink, linking his arm through yours.
The three of you weave out of the VIP section and into the sea of bodies moving below, abandoning Yoongi and Hoseok entirely. Normally, Hoseok would be following and showing all of you up on the dancefloor, but he's always been the closest to Yoongi aside from you, and 'Yoongi' and 'dancefloor' are rarely used in the same sentence. It makes you feel better knowing you aren't leaving him alone.
The dance floor is a living organism—pulsing, thrumming, loud. It pulls you in with heat and motion, envelops you in a crush of bodies moving to the rhythm of the bass. You squeeze between two strangers to find a pocket of space just big enough to claim, your friends flanking you like bodyguards-slash-backup dancers.
Jimin immediately starts showing off, all delicate lines and loose hips that draw stares from nearby partygoers. Taehyung bounces in place with his drink held above his head, whooping along to the beat before pulling you in.
It’s pure chaos, but the good kind. The kind that turns your brain off. You let it take you.
The music pulses in your veins, the drink you chugged already buzzing warm in your bloodstream. Your limbs loosen. You start to move, slow at first, then more freely, your hands lifting into the air as the tempo kicks up.
It feels good. Really good. You haven’t danced like this in ages. Not just swayed in place, not politely nodded along—let go. It's like your body needed it.
Taehyung’s eyes sparkle under the strobe lights as he spins you out and reels you back in, grinning like a devil. "I forgot how hot you get when you’re tipsy."
"Quit hitting on me in front of your boyfriend," you shoot back, giggling.
"You can be our third, beautiful!" Jimin calls, cackling as Taehyung grabs two handfuls of Jimin's ass, clearly only partially for show.
You're so happy to see them doing so well, happy and in love and just as obsessed with each other as the day they got together—which didn't take long, once they'd met. They make compatibility look so easy.
You’re still laughing when Hoseok appears beside you a moment later, sweat glistening at his temples, his black shirt already sticking to his chest because it's that hot down here. He beams and starts dancing without a word, all fluid limbs and natural rhythm, like his body was music in a past life.
You fall into step with him, letting him guide your tempo. His presence is grounding, playful. His hands skim your waist as he spins you around, and you twirl back into him easily, laughing all the while.
You’re flushed, winded, but happy.
Eventually, you lean into him and pant out, "where’s Yoongi?"
"Still in the booth, I think," he shouts over the music. "Said he was enjoying the show."
You roll your eyes but something in your chest tugs a little. You rest a hand on Hoseok’s shoulder. "Cover for me?" you shout back.
He throws you a lazy salute and instantly turns his attention to Jimin and Taehyung, already back in his element.
You make the trek back, weaving through the dense tide of bodies like a fish swimming upstream. Your skin is damp with sweat, your chest heaving a little from dancing, but you’re smiling, breathless in the best way. It takes longer than expected to reach the booth—you forgot how far back you'd gone. The VIP section is elevated slightly above the main floor, just enough to give a view of the writhing crowd below.
As you climb the shallow steps, you scan the seating area, spotting your table right away. Yoongi is still in the booth, right where you left him, one arm stretched lazily across the back of the couch, whiskey glass resting on his thigh.
But he’s not alone.
A woman stands beside him, her body angled towards him in interest. She’s gorgeous—tall, confident, draped in a silky dress that catches the light every time she shifts her weight. One of her long legs is propped casually against the edge of the table, emphasizing the length of her thigh. She touches his arm when she laughs, a perfectly manicured hand skimming lightly down the fabric of his jacket like she has every right to be doing it.
And Yoongi lets her.
He's decidedly not pushing her away. His mouth tilts at the corners, eyes sharp and watchful. He takes a slow sip of his drink and says something that makes her laugh again, tossing her glossy hair over her shoulder.
You stop dead in your tracks, just outside the velvet rope, watching the whole thing unfold. Eventually he glances in your direction, as if sensing you watching him. When your eyes meet, he lifts a brow, then shrugs like what can you do?
You look away, heart skipping for reasons you don’t examine too closely.
It’s not jealousy. It’s not. You’ve watched that exact same scenario unfold a thousand times and never felt a thing.
Back in college, it was practically a revolving door. Girls and guys alike, slipping in and out of your shared apartment at all hours. You’d roll your eyes when you heard muffled sounds from his bedroom, put your headphones in, do your best to ignore the obvious, because that was what living with Yoongi was like. That was just how he was, back then.
You didn’t ask questions, although you made fun of him for it sometimes. Called him a slut, which he never denied.
But now, standing here in the middle of a bar surrounded by your oldest friends, watching your best friend get casually flirted with by someone who clearly wants to go home with him, you can’t stop thinking about it.
Yoongi knows things. Yoongi’s done things.
You can't, for the life of you, contend with the idea that he's done those things, but at the very least, you know he isn't a prude. Maybe he would be a good person to talk to about all of this. He's your best friend.
You square your shoulders and make yourself move again, even though your instincts are screaming at you to turn around and pretend you didn’t see anything. You step past the velvet rope, heart thudding, the confidence you’d found on the dance floor wavering with every step closer.
Yoongi’s attention snaps fully to you now. Whatever he says to the woman beside him next is still quiet enough under the blaring music that you don't catch it, but it's firm. She follows his gaze to you, her smile faltering just a fraction before smoothing back into place. She straightens, gives Yoongi’s arm one last lingering touch, and disappears back into the crowd without another glance your way.
You slide into the seat next to him, trying to ignore the way your pulse is still racing.
"Not your type?" you ask, instead of commenting on how fucking weird that was.
"I don’t really have a type."
You hum. "That’s very bisexual of you."
He snorts into his whiskey.
"She was pretty," you add after a moment.
Yoongi sets his drink down, eyes on the dance floor instead of you. "She was."
"You could’ve taken her home."
"I could’ve," he agrees.
You tilt your head, watching him. "But you aren't."
He shrugs, finally glancing at you. "Didn’t feel like it."
"Mm. Getting soft in your old age."
He huffs, lips twitching at the corners. "Please. I’m still ten times worse than you think."
You roll your eyes, but a matching smile tugs at the corner of your mouth anyway. "You’ve mellowed."
"Only because you're around. I'm not here for that, I'm here for you, remember?"
You snort, playing it off like he’s joking—but part of you bristles at the subtext. "So you're my caretaker now?"
"I've been your caretaker since we were kids," he says, and takes another sip of his whiskey.
You pause at that. Not because it surprises you—he’s said things like that before, half-teasing, half-serious, like it’s just a fact of life that he looks out for you. But tonight, it sounds different. You don't know why.
"You don’t have to do that anymore, you know," you say.
"Do what?"
"Take care of me."
He turns his head then, finally meets your eyes. "I know I don’t have to."
"Then why do you?" you press.
His jaw tightens so subtly you almost don't catch it, but you've known him practically your entire life. Of course you catch it. You know what it looks like when he doesn't want to talk about something.
"You’re my best friend," he says eventually. "I look out for you. It’s not that deep."
Before either of you can say anything else, the couch cushions shift beside you. Taehyung flops down with zero warning, sweaty and breathless, a bottle of water in one hand and what looks like a melted Jell-O shot in the other.
"God, that dance floor is disgusting," he pants, turning to you both with a boxy grin. "I love it."
Jimin appears next, a glittery sheen of sweat dusting his collarbones and the tops of his cheeks. "You ditched us," he accuses, pointing at you like you committed a crime.
"I didn’t ditch!" you say, lifting your hands in surrender. "I retreated."
"You went to flirt with Yoongi," Jimin says.
You open your mouth to argue, but Yoongi cuts in flatly, "we weren’t flirting."
"Ugh, killjoy,” Taehyung says, waving a hand. "Let us dream."
That conversation is thankfully cut off when Hoseok hands you another cocktail—purple this time, with a sugared rim and something floating in it that might be edible glitter.
"What is this?" you ask, not really caring.
"Magic."
You take a gulp. It’s strong. Very strong, and very sweet. You don’t know what the hell is in it, but it’s exactly what you need right now.
Conversation flows easily after that. You all lounge together, tangled and comfortable in the way only old friends can be. Someone brings up that one disastrous spring break trip in college—Busan, sunburns, motel room horrors—and the whole group dissolves into laughter that leaves your cheeks aching.
Yoongi’s beside you, as always, close enough to feel the warmth of him through your clothes. He’s quiet, letting the others do most of the talking, but he’s listening. You can tell by the way his gaze tracks each speaker, the way his mouth twitches into half-smiles at your shared inside jokes.
At one point, Jimin pulls out his phone to show a video of Taehyung dancing on a pool table during that same trip. Everyone loses it.
"No, no—wait," Taehyung wheezes. "Play the part where I fall off—there—right there!"
"And that, ladies and gentlemen, is how he won me over," Jimin teases, slipping his phone back into his pocket.
It’s like that for a while. Comfortable. Easy.
But not endless.
Eventually, your eyelids feel heavy. You’re not in college anymore. You feel it in your knees, in the way your back aches a little from standing in heels too long. You’ve been running on fumes since yesterday, and one look at Yoongi tells you he’s in the same boat.
Eventually, he leans in, close enough that his shoulder brushes yours. "Wanna head out?"
You glance at the time on your phone and wince. Nearly 2 a.m. "Yeah, probably. Before my feet fall off."
He stands first, stretching with a muted grunt, and then offers you a hand to help you up. You take it without thinking, letting him pull you to your feet. His hand lingers at your lower back as you steady yourself.
"I think we’re gonna head home," you say.
"Nooo," Jimin groans immediately. "It’s too early!"
"It’s almost two!"
"She needs her beauty sleep," Hoseok says gently, already helping Jimin shift to make room for you to grab your bag.
"And Yoongi?" Jimin asks, eyes narrowing. "What’s your excuse?"
"Someone has to be there when she falls asleep in the Uber," Yoongi says.
"You two are no fun," Taehyung pouts.
"Text us when you get home," Hoseok says, pulling you into another warm hug. Sweaty, this time. Gross.
"I will," you murmur, squeezing back. "Don’t let Jimin convince you to go anywhere else tonight."
"I make no promises!"
Before you go, Taehyung demands a final selfie, pulling all of you into the frame of his phone camera.
You and Yoongi weave your way out the way you came in—past the glowing jellyfish lights, past the packed dance floor, past the line of strangers still waiting to get inside. The cool night air hits you like a wave the moment you step outside, prickling your skin.
"Thank god," Yoongi mutters.
You glance sideways at him. "Too much for the old man?"
"Shut up."
You smile, stepping off the curb to flag down a car.
It’s only when you’re seated in the back, the city blurring past the windows, that you let your head fall softly against Yoongi’s shoulder. He adjusts slightly so you’re more comfortable, so you don’t jostle too much when the driver hits a pothole.
"You meant it, didn’t you?" you mumble, eyes fluttering shut. "That you’re here for me."
"Yeah," he says, quiet.
You don’t reply. You just let yourself drift, lulled by the quiet, steady beat of his pulse where your temple rests. He doesn’t move until you’re home.
୨ৎ
You toe your heels off as soon as the front door closes behind you. The club is still pulsing in your blood—bass in your bones, sweat on your skin, sugary liquor coating your tongue—but underneath it all, there’s something else. A deeper ache.
Yoongi locks the door behind you with a soft click and shrugs out of his jacket. You hang back in the entryway, watching him tiredly.
Yoongi glances over his shoulder. "You good?"
You nod. Then shake your head. Then rub your face with both hands and groan. "I don't know."
Yoongi raises a brow but doesn’t say anything. He just waits.
You pad into the kitchen, bare feet sticking faintly to the cool tile. The room tilts slightly under your feet. "I need to tell you something."
"Ominous," he says lightly, following you to the kitchen. He rummages through the fridge until he emerges with two water bottles.
"Do you…" You trail off. Try again. "You’ve… been with a lot of people, right?"
"Is this your roundabout way of calling me a manwhore?" he jokes, pushing a bottle into your hands. "Am I being slut-shamed in my own home?"
You shove his arm gently, frowning. "No, I just—I mean—you know things. About… sex."
Yoongi sobers a little, his teasing expression fading. He sits at one of the high stools at the kitchen counter, and you follow, sliding into the other one. "Yeah…? I know a thing or two."
You hesitate for a second. "I’ve been looking stuff up," you say quickly, forcing the words out.
Yoongi doesn’t say anything. He just blinks, like he’s waiting for the rest.
"It’s… kind of embarrassing."
"Nothing you say is gonna shock me," he says gently. "You know that, right?"
Ha. Yeah, he says that, but…
Catching the expression on your face, Yoongi just gestures with his water, like try me.
You hesitate, picking at the edge of the label on your bottle. "Last night, after what's-his-face… I don’t know. I was thinking about all the times I’ve tried to have sex. Like, actually enjoy it. And it just… never worked, you know? For me."
Yoongi’s brows pinch slightly, because no, he didn't know. You never told him. But again, he doesn’t interrupt.
"I used to think it was just me. That maybe I was broken or something," you go on, your words gaining momentum now, tumbling out unchecked. "But I started reading. And watching things. And I came across these forums, and—" You swallow. "Turns out there’s, like, a whole community of people who feel the same way. And then I started reading more about, uh…"
You finally open the bottle and take a long drink, like it might wash the words out of your mouth.
"…BDSM."
There. You said it.
Yoongi goes perfectly still.
"I wasn’t planning on, like—I didn’t think I’d be into it," you continue. "But the more I read, the more things started to click. About me." You draw in a shaky breath. "And I found these sites. Places where people meet up. Find partners who are into the same things as them…"
You trail off again, suddenly hyper-aware of how much you’re saying.
"Holy shit," he replies.
It seems like it's about all he can manage.
You bark a laugh, even though your cheeks burn. "I thought you said I couldn't shock you?"
He exhales, dragging a hand down his face. "Yeah well, I-I… wasn’t expecting that."
"Sorry."
"No, don’t be sorry," he says quickly, taking a gulp of water. "Just… wow. Okay. So you’ve been researching?"
"Too much." You press the cold bottle to your cheek, trying to cool the heat rising under your skin. “I even made an account,” you admit. “On one of the sites. Just to lurk at first. I wasn’t gonna message anyone or anything, but I filled out the profile. I picked, like, preferences and limits and stuff. There were drop-downs for everything—kinks, experience levels, dynamic roles…”
Yoongi makes a strangled sound, something between a cough and a groan.
You glance at him. "Are you okay?"
"I’m fine," he says, clearing his throat. "Just… processing."
You nod slowly, eyeing him for a moment before looking down at your water again.
"Anyway… That’s what I’ve been doing. I didn’t think I’d ever tell you, but… I don't know. I need to tell someone."
Yoongi is silent for a long moment. "I’ve been in the scene for years. You know that, right?"
You whip your head toward him. "What?"
"Yeah. Since college." His voice is calm, but his ears are turning red. "I, uh. Yeah."
You gape at him. "You’re into BDSM?"
He nods, scratching the back of his neck. "Yep."
"And you never told me?"
"I thought you knew!"
"Wait, hold on. You're seriously—"
"—You shouldn't be on those sites," he interrupts.
It stops you cold.
"Excuse me?"
He holds up a hand. "I don’t mean it like that."
"Then how do you mean it?" you bite out, sharp with defensiveness. "What, you think I’m too soft or something?"
"No! Fuck no," he says instantly. "That’s not what I meant."
"Then what?" you demand.
He exhales hard. "You’re too green. Too new. I mean, you said it yourself, you just learned about this shit last night. Those sites are full of people who can sniff out inexperience from a mile away, and some of them will absolutely use it against you. They’ll push your boundaries, make you think you’re consenting when you’re not, manipulate you into stuff you’re not ready for. And if something goes wrong… you won’t even know until it’s already happened."
That shuts you up.
You sit there, staring at him, your grip tightening around the bottle in your hands.
He softens. "I’m not saying you can’t explore it. You absolutely can. But you should do it with someone who knows what they’re doing."
You stare at him, incredulous. "Like who?"
"…Like me?"
What. The. Fuck.
You laugh nervously. "What?"
"If you’re just looking to test it out," he says, watching you carefully, "do it with me."
"Yoongi, you have to know how fucking crazy that sounds. You're my best friend!"
“I don’t want you to get hurt. Look, you think some random dom online is going to care if you get freaked out? That they’d stop the second your body freezes even if you can’t get the words out?"
You hesitate, blinking fast. Because the truth is, you don’t know if they would. During your research, among all the positive stuff, you also read the horror stories. The idea of that happening with someone who doesn’t know you or care to learn—yeah. That scares the shit out of you.
Yoongi leans forward, elbows on his knees. "I would," he says confidently. "I’d stop before you even asked."
"But we’re friends," you say weakly.
"That’s why you can trust me, right?"
You slide off the stool and start to pace, like maybe if you move around you'll be able to make sense of things.
You and Yoongi have never really had the type of friendship where you talk openly about sex, but there were hints, now that you think about it. Little breadcrumbs scattered over the years.
You didn’t have the vocabulary for it back then—BDSM, kink, safe words, aftercare—but you had eyes. You had ears.
And memory.
Like the time you passed by his room on your way to brush your teeth, only to find Yoongi walking a girl out. She was glowing. Lipstick smudged, hair a mess, but she looked like she’d just been told the secrets of the universe. You barely had time to register the faint pink ligature marks circling her wrists before he was pulling her coat over her arms. She wobbled slightly in her heels as she walked out the door, and Yoongi caught her elbow to steady her.
The same girl had cried the night before, loudly enough for you to hear the hiccuped sobs through the thin walls. But they hadn’t sounded distressed. If anything, they’d sounded like… like she was enjoying herself.
At the time, you didn’t want to know the details. Now… maybe you do.
You just hadn’t wanted to put two and two together. You hadn’t wanted to believe that the same man who stocks your favorite snacks when he knows you’ve had a bad week, who remembers how you take your tea and buys your tampons when you forget, who quietly places a pillow under your head when you fall asleep on the couch—your Yoongi—could also be the same man who ties pretty girls up and whispers filthy things in their ears and ruins them in the best possible way.
But he is. He is. And maybe that’s the part that makes your stomach flutter—how those two sides coexist so easily in him. How he’s never tried to hide it, but never flaunted it either. Just carried it, like everything else, like something quiet and steady and sure.
And now he’s offering it to you. Not in a casual, "let’s fuck" kind of way. Not like a guy trying to take advantage of a drunk confession.
He's offering because he knows you better than anyone. Because he sees how overwhelmed you are and wants you to be safe. Wants you to understand. Wants you to learn with someone who gives a shit about what happens to you.
You stare at him, still reeling. Still pacing. Still piecing together all the signs you should’ve paid more attention to. Your heart is loud in your chest.
"You’re serious," you say finally.
"Dead serious."
Baffled, you ask, "Yoongi, are you even attracted to me?"
His eyes flicker, just for half a second, but it’s enough. You know him too well. The answer’s already there, even before he speaks.
"I wouldn’t have offered if I wasn’t."
You stop pacing instantly.
"I’m not saying we jump into anything tonight," he continues. "I’m saying… if you want to learn, I can teach you. Safely. At your pace. With rules, and check-ins, and safewords, and—hell, a whole fucking PowerPoint if that’s what you need."
You laugh, despite yourself, at the way he's rambling in a very un-Yoongi-like way. It comforts you to see that tiny crack in his armor, to be able to think that he might be just as nervous as you are.
"And if we start, and you decide you hate it?" he continues. "We stop. No questions asked. And nothing will be ruined, okay? I'll still be the same Yoongi I've always been."
Your fingers curl around the edge of the counter. "And you really think you can help me?"
"I know I can."
Fuck.
Your mouth feels dry. Your whole body feels hot, flushed from the inside out.
You search his face, looking for some kind of sign that he’s joking or just caught in the heat of the moment. But there’s nothing performative about him right now. His expression is wide open.
You exhale shakily. "This is a lot."
"I know," he says gently. "You don’t have to say yes. You don’t have to say anything right now."
"But if I did," you ask quietly, "what would happen? What would that even look like?" You swallow thickly. "I mean. You’d, uh… You'd be the one in control, right?"
He nods. "You’d have control too. More than you think." He bites his lip. "We’d talk through all of it first. No surprises, if that's what you need. I’d explain everything. Show you the ropes."
"Literally?"
He smirks. "Maybe."
Another nervous laugh bubbles up from your throat and you shake your head, disbelieving. "God, I can’t believe this conversation is real."
"Me neither. But I’m glad you told me."
"I need time to think."
"I know."
"But I'm not saying no," you clarify.
Yoongi does a really, really shitty job of biting back his smirk this time. "Noticed that, too."
God. Has he always talked like that? You cross your arms, trying to act normal, trying to suppress the heat blooming across your chest and spreading lower.
Yoongi gently pushes back his stool and stands.
"I meant what I said," he murmurs. "But that doesn’t mean we have to keep talking about it tonight."
Your brows pull together. "You’re not… weirded out that I brought it up?"
"No. Absolutely not. Never. I’m proud of you for telling me."
That shouldn’t do what it does to you. The quiet 'proud of you' shouldn’t make your legs go a little weak. But it does.
You nod, looking away.
He steps forward and rests a hand lightly on your upper arm.
"You’ve had a long night," he says. "You’re buzzed, tired, probably overloaded with new feelings. It’s a lot. Let your body catch up with your brain, okay?"
You nod again, slower this time. "Okay."
"I’ll be right down the hall if you need anything. Seriously. Anything."
You know he means it. He always has.
He squeezes your arm gently before letting go. "Go wash your face. Put on pajamas. Get some rest, okay?"
"Okay," you say, knowing instantly that you're going to do exactly all of that. How many times has Yoongi told you to do something and you've just listened without a second thought? Oh god. "Goodnight."
"Night."
You linger there after he leaves the kitchen, fingers brushing the spot where his hand had been.
But your brain is still a mess. You exhale hard and press your palms to your burning cheeks.
Jesus fucking Christ. Are you seriously considering fucking your best friend?
a/n 2: RRRRRAHHHHHH THIS ONE IS GOING TO BE SOOOO FUN YOU GUYS!!! i SO hope you enjoyed the first chapter! i jumped the gun on this one, BUT we’re on a tentative posting schedule for this fic (every other friday) so you can hopefully expect the next drop on feb. 20!!!
please leave a comment or send me an ask with your thoughts so far 😋 also the taglist for this fic is officially open, so if you’d like to be added you can go ahead and fill out my form here (no need to do so if you’re already on my permanent taglist)
Summary: Yoongi accidentally causes internet chaos during a concert in Mexico, then calls you right after just to get teased for it. Somewhere between embarrassing fancams, late-night flirting, and a random colorful skull from a market, long distance suddenly feels a little harder than usual.
Status: One-shot
Pairing: Idol!Yoongi x Reader
Word Count: 4.4k~
Genre: Idol!AU, Fluff
Rated: PG
Tags: Boyfriend!Yoongi, Secret, Slice of Life, LDR
Posting Date: May 17, 2026
SCC: Ko-fi ☕️ ・ Taglist 📝
That night, Seoul was at its coldest. Light rain had been falling since the afternoon, making the apartment air feel cool and cozy. You had already showered, wearing one of Yoongi’s oversized shirts that somehow had been staying in your closet more often than in his own lately. Your hair was still a little damp when you climbed onto the sofa carrying a thin blanket and a glass of iced americano with almost-melted ice.
The TV had actually been playing a drama for a while, but you weren’t really watching it. Your focus was only on mindlessly scrolling through TikTok. Your FYP that night was completely random—people reviewing spicy food, Jungkook gym edits, videos of angry cats getting bathed.
Until suddenly…
A concert video.
The lights were insanely bright. Fans screaming loud enough to burst your ears even through your phone speaker.
And in the middle of the screen—
Yoongi.
You automatically stopped scrolling.
His hair was soaked with sweat, his breathing still visibly heavy after performing. He was wearing a thin white tank top underneath and a black outer jacket that had already fallen halfway open. His face was red from the heat and exhaustion, but he still looked absurdly handsome in the most annoying way possible.
The caption said:
“HE ACCIDENTALLY TOOK OFF EVERYTHING 😭”
Your eyebrow instantly lifted.
“Hah?”
The video kept playing.
Yoongi was seen pulling off his jacket from behind his neck, probably because he was hot. But somehow, the inner shirt got dragged up with it.
And a split second later—
The entire venue literally exploded.
“KYYYYYYYYAAAAAAAAAA—”
The fans’ screams cracked from how loud they were.
The camera recording immediately shook violently. Someone dropped their phone downward. Someone else only recorded the venue ceiling because they got too hysterical.
Meanwhile Yoongi…
His expression was priceless.
He instantly stopped moving, blankly staring for one second like his brain was buffering, then quickly pulled his shirt back down while laughing shyly.
You immediately covered your mouth.
Then burst out laughing alone in the living room.
“OH MY GOD.”
Replay.
Replay again.
And the more you replayed it, the funnier it got because he genuinely looked like it was completely accidental. Even the member next to him turned around with a shocked-but-laughing expression.
The next TikTok appeared from another angle.
One zoomed in on Yoongi’s face.
One was in slow motion.
One used dramatic Titanic music.
Another one had the caption:
“Mexico survived earthquakes but not this.”
You practically collapsed against the sofa laughing.
“Poor him…”
But you still replayed it again.
Honestly, it wasn’t just funny.
Yoongi looked way too good there.
That white tank top clung to him because of the sweat. His arms were full of veins after performing. His black hair fell slightly onto his forehead. And his embarrassed, panicked expression somehow made everyone lose their minds even more.
Your phone even started constantly buzzing.
The BTS group chat instantly became chaotic.
Jimin:
hyung trending 😭😭😭
Hoseok:
I TOLD YOU NOT TO TAKE OFF YOUR JACKET ON STAGE
Jungkook:
Mexico will never move on
Namjoon:
internet is gone
You laughed again while screenshotting several videos.
Then without thinking, you opened Yoongi’s chat.
For a few seconds you were still smiling to yourself before finally typing.
You:
[5 screenshots]
Congratulations
Typing…
Typing stopped.
Typing again.
Yoongi:
I want to disappear
You immediately laughed again.
You:
No seriously 😭
This is so funny
Yoongi:
I just wanted to take off my jacket
You:
And accidentally took off your dignity too
Read.
No reply for a few seconds.
Then—
Yoongi:
You’re enjoying this way too much huh
You:
Very much
Yoongi:
Mean
You:
An entire stadium screamed like they got jumpscared
Yoongi:
I was shocked too
You:
Your face was so funny 😭😭😭
You replayed the video again while grinning to yourself.
Especially the part where Yoongi immediately pulled his shirt back down with an expression like “what the hell just happened?”
You even zoomed in on a certain screenshot.
Oh.
Oh no.
His arms were insane though.
Without realizing it, you took another screenshot.
You:
Btw are your arms even legal?
Yoongi took longer to reply this time.
Maybe he was showering. Maybe eating. Or maybe regretting his life because the entire internet was now filled with fancams of him.
Finally the chat bubble appeared again.
Yoongi:
Are you thirst tweeting now too?
You:
I’m a victim of the timeline
Yoongi:
Delete TikTok
You:
Can’t
The entertainment tonight is too good
Yoongi:
I’m tired
You:
But handsome
Read.
No reply for about a minute.
Then suddenly your phone screen showed an incoming video call.
You instantly laughed before answering.
The moment it connected, Yoongi’s face immediately filled the screen.
His hair was still slightly wet after showering. He was now wearing a loose black shirt with the collar hanging lower on one side. His skin was still slightly flushed from the concert and hot shower. He sat leaning against the hotel sofa while staring at you with a tired face.
“Just keep laughing.”
The second you heard his raspy post-performance voice, you laughed even harder.
“Sorry—really sorry but this is genuinely funny…”
Yoongi closed his eyes briefly while letting out a long sigh.
“I opened my phone and it was pure chaos.”
“Well that’s your fault.”
“It wasn’t intentional.”
“You know people are saying Mexico lost their minds tonight?”
“I want to uninstall the internet.”
You were still smiling widely while staring at the screen.
And damn it, the more you looked at him now, the more you kept thinking about him earlier on stage.
Sweaty. Heavy breathing. Tense arms.
God.
Yoongi watched your face for a few seconds. Then the corner of his lips lifted slightly.
“Oh.”
“What oh.”
“So you were freaking out too apparently.”
“No.”
“Liar.”
“I was just surprised.”
“How many times did you replay it?”
You instantly went silent.
Yoongi narrowed his eyes slightly. “Exactly.”
“…a few.”
“How many is a few?”
“Well… several.”
“You took screenshots too.”
Your eyes widened immediately.
“How do you know?!”
“I can tell from your face.”
“What’s wrong with my face?”
“You look guilty.”
You let out a small huff while leaning back against the sofa again.
Yoongi watched you with a faint smile. Even exhausted like that, he still had energy to tease you.
“You seriously…” you muttered quietly.
“What?”
“You made an entire country hysterical.”
“One country is exaggerating.”
“No it’s not. Their screaming was terrifying.”
Yoongi just laughed softly.
And oh my god, that soft laugh. You hated how easily he made your heart feel weird just from his voice alone.
“You need to see the edits now,” you said while reopening TikTok. “Someone already made a slow motion version.”
“Don’t show me.”
“Too late.”
You played one video.
The second the hysterical fan screams blasted from your phone, Yoongi immediately covered his face with one hand.
“OH MY GOD.”
You burst out laughing again.
“Your expression is so funny!”
“I’m genuinely embarrassed.”
“It’s rare seeing you this embarrassed.”
“Because it wasn’t intentional.”
“You literally buffered on stage.”
“I panicked.”
“It showed.”
Yoongi sighed deeply while sinking further into the hotel sofa. His shirt shifted slightly higher around the sleeves. And you… unconsciously glanced again.
Yoongi noticed. Very noticed.
“What are you doing?”
“Hm?”
“You keep staring.”
“I’m not.”
“You think I don’t know?”
You instantly got flustered.
“Fine, maybe a little.”
“You said it was funny.”
“It is funny.”
“So what is it now?”
You bit your lip briefly before quietly answering,
“…handsome too.”
Yoongi went silent for a few seconds. Then he smiled very slightly. A thin smile. The kind that made your heart melt because he genuinely looked happy hearing it.
“You make me feel confident so easily.”
“Hey don’t get too confident.”
“Why?”
“Or you’ll intentionally take your shirt off at concerts.”
He immediately laughed.
“I’m not that bad.”
“You sure?”
“You’ve already seen it plenty of times too.”
And like someone pressed pause—
You instantly froze. “…what?”
Yoongi casually leaned back while looking at you.
“Why are you pretending to be shocked now?”
“MIN YOONGI.”
“What?”
“That’s a different context.”
“What’s the difference?”
“AN ENTIRE STADIUM SAW THIS.”
“But who sees it the most often?”
Your cheeks instantly heated up.
“That’s not the point—”
“You literally sleep hugging me every night.”
“STOP.”
“And now you’re embarrassed?”
You immediately covered your face with a sofa pillow while groaning in embarrassment.
Yoongi just laughed victoriously from the other side.
“Finally embarrassed too.”
“You’re so annoying.”
“You started it earlier.”
“But now you’re doing it on purpose!”
“Hm.”
“What do you mean hm.”
“It’s cute seeing you flustered.”
You peeked from behind the pillow.
Yoongi was still smiling faintly while watching you. His face looked far more relaxed now compared to the beginning of the call.
And strangely enough, you really loved being the reason he relaxed after a long concert like this.
“You’re really tired huh?” you finally asked, your voice softer.
Yoongi nodded slightly.
“A little.”
“Did you eat?”
“Yeah.”
“Drink water?”
“Yes, mom.”
“Yoongi.”
He laughed softly again.
“I drank.”
You watched his face for a few seconds.
His eyes were slightly red from exhaustion. His voice sounded heavier too. But he still called you just because you teased him about that stupid wardrobe malfunction earlier.
Your chest warmed on its own.
“You should sleep later,” you said quietly.
“Later.”
“Don’t keep saying later.”
He looked at you for a moment.
Then quietly said,
“I miss you.”
Your expression instantly softened.
“…it’s only been a week.”
“Long.”
“You’re dramatic.”
“Yeah.”
You smiled faintly.
And for a few seconds, you just stared at each other through the screen, both exhausted but comfortable.
Until Yoongi finally spoke again casually,
“But seriously.”
“Hm?”
“You were more excited than the Mexico fans.”
You instantly glared.
“Because that’s my boyfriend.”
“Oh so you were jealous?”
“A little.”
“Aigoo…”
“What do you mean aigoo.”
“You’re cute.”
“Not cute.”
“You’re jealous over an accidental shirt slip.”
“It sounds stupid when you say it like that.”
“Because it is funny.”
You huffed in embarrassment.
And Yoongi, who had looked half-dead exhausted this whole time, just smiled even softer while quietly saying,
“The one who sees the most is still you anyway.”
You immediately collapsed backward onto the sofa while covering your face.
“OH MY GOD MIN YOONGI.”
. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁.
You were still lying flat on the sofa with your face covered by a pillow, while Yoongi’s soft laughter kept coming from your phone speaker.
Satisfied laughter. The kind of laughter from someone who realized he had successfully made his girlfriend malfunction.
“Get up.”
“No.”
“Why are you so embarrassed?”
“Because you said it like that!”
“But it’s true.”
You lowered the pillow slightly, glaring at the screen.
“Yoongi.”
“Hm?”
“Don’t flirt when your face still looks like this after a concert.”
He raised an eyebrow slightly.
“Why?”
“Dangerous.”
That smile immediately appeared again. Small, crooked, annoying.
“I’m literally just sitting here.”
“Yeah, that’s the problem.”
Yoongi laughed softly while resting his head against the hotel sofa. The dim room lighting made the lines of his face look even sharper. His black hair was still slightly damp and falling over his forehead in a way that looked way too good for someone claiming to be exhausted.
And the thing making your heart race the most— He looked so comfortable right now. Relaxed. Soft. But his eyes hadn’t left you this entire time.
“You seriously…” you muttered quietly while avoiding his gaze, “you just caused internet chaos and still have time to tease me.”
“Because I miss you.”
His answer came too fast. Too honest. Your heart instantly skipped weirdly.
“You usually get clingy when you’re tired,” you said, trying to sound casual.
“And?”
“And right now I can’t hug you.”
Yoongi went quiet for a moment.
His expression immediately softened a little more.
“I know.”
The atmosphere suddenly became calmer.
You were already used to tour schedules. Used to video calls from different countries. Used to falling asleep on call until one of you passed out first. But somehow this time felt different.
Maybe because Yoongi’s schedule was too packed. Maybe because you had gotten too used to being close before he left. Or maybe because right now he was looking at you like that while seeming like he really wanted to come home.
“You know,” he suddenly said, his voice low and raspy, “right after the concert, the first thing I did was check my phone for your message.”
You instantly looked back at the screen.
“Seriously?”
“Hm.”
“Why?”
“I already knew you’d make fun of me.”
You laughed softly.
“And you still looked for it.”
“Because I missed you.”
God. You genuinely couldn’t handle it when he suddenly got soft like this. Especially when he followed it up with a tiny smile while secretly staring at you.
“Yoongi…”
“Hm?”
“You make it hard to sleep.”
“I haven’t even started yet.”
You instantly froze.
“What do you mean you haven’t started?”
He casually shrugged a little.
“You said I was flirting earlier.”
“And?”
“But I was just acting normal.”
Your cheeks instantly heated up again.
“Okay then don’t start.”
“What if I do?”
“MIN YOONGI.”
He laughed softly again. Not loudly, but low enough to make your stomach feel weird. Then he moved slightly closer to the camera. And god. That was a terrible mistake. Because now his face completely filled your phone screen.
“You know what the funniest part earlier was?” he asked quietly.
“What?”
“You got possessive immediately.”
“I was not possessive.”
“You literally said ‘that’s my boyfriend.’”
“Well he is.”
“And then you got jealous.”
“A little.”
“You really like me huh.”
You instantly glared in embarrassment.
“Overconfident.”
“But it's true.”
You let out a long sigh while covering half your face with the blanket. Yoongi watched you with a faint smile.
“Cute.”
“Don’t call me cute.”
“Why?”
“It just makes me more annoyed.”
“But you’re smiling.”
You reflexively touched your lips.
Damn it.
He was right.
Yoongi instantly looked satisfied.
“I know your expressions by heart.”
“You don’t need to know them by heart.”
“Too late.”
A few seconds later the atmosphere became quiet again. You could hear the hotel AC from his side. Occasionally there were distant sounds from the hallway, but other than that there was only the sound of your breathing.
Yoongi looked really exhausted now. His eyes were half-lidded. His loose black shirt slipped slightly off his shoulder when he moved. And unfortunately it made you remember the earlier video again.
Yoongi noticed again. “What are you thinking about?”
“Nothing.”
“You’re spacing out.”
“I just remembered earlier.”
“Which earlier?”
“You know which one.”
He smiled faintly.
“Oh. The Mexico incident.”
“Don’t call it an incident like it’s a scandal.”
“It felt like one.”
“The internet literally lost its mind.”
“You did too.”
You sighed softly.
“Well how was I supposed to react…”
“Hm?”
“You earlier were…”
You stopped yourself. Yoongi waited. And somehow that was worse than if he pushed you. Because he just quietly stared at you, making you even more nervous.
“What?” he asked again softly.
“…hot.”
Yoongi immediately tried to hold back a smile.
“Oh?”
“Don’t get too confident yet.”
“But you called me hot.”
“You are hot.”
He finally let out a small laugh.
“Wow.”
“You’re not fair.”
“Why?”
“You know exactly what your post-concert face does to people.”
“What does it do?”
“Yoongi.”
“Answer first.”
You covered your face again.
Which only amused him more.
“Aigoo…”
“Stop laughing.”
“You’re so cute when you’re embarrassed.”
“And you’re so evil when you miss me.”
Yoongi went quiet for a moment.
Then with a lower, softer voice—
“I really do miss you badly right now.”
Your heart instantly dropped. The way he said things like that was always dangerous. Not excessive. Not dramatic. But because his tone stayed calm, it somehow felt more real.
“When are you coming home?” you asked softly.
“Still a few more weeks.”
You instantly pouted.
“That’s too long.”
“Hm.”
“I hate long distance.”
“Me too.”
Yoongi slowly rubbed his face before looking at you again.
“That’s why when I get home later, don’t complain.”
“Why do I suddenly feel nervous?”
“You’re the one who called me hot earlier.”
“I REGRET SAYING THAT.”
He laughed again.
“You can’t take it back.”
“Yes I can.”
“No you can’t.”
“You’re annoying.”
“But you miss me.”
You stayed quiet. Because he was right. And Yoongi knew you too well to the point where he could already see the answer before you even said it.
He leaned back again while staring at the screen for a few seconds. Then casually said,
“After the tour, I probably won’t let go of you.”
Your heart dropped.
“Yoongi…”
“Hm?”
“Don’t say things like that while looking at me like that.”
“Like what?”
“LIKE THAT.”
He laughed softly.
“I’m just saying I miss you.”
“The way you say it is the problem.”
“What if I was at the apartment right now?”
You instantly went completely silent. Yoongi saw your reaction and his smile became even thinner.
“Hmm.”
“Don’t hmm.”
“I’m just imagining it.”
“You’re doing this on purpose.”
“A little.”
“Yoongi…”
“I’d probably pull you onto the sofa already.”
Your breath instantly caught.
“And then you’d say you’re tired.”
“I am tired.”
“But you’d still come over to me.”
You genuinely couldn’t handle him once he started talking in that low voice. Especially now that his face already looked sleepy and soft. The deadliest combination.
“And then?” you asked quietly without realizing it.
Yoongi’s eyes immediately lifted slightly.
“Oh, so you want to keep listening.”
“Actually, never mind.”
“No. You asked.”
You bit your lip slightly. And Yoongi saw it. Of course he saw it.
“So dangerous,” he muttered softly.
“What?”
“The way you look when you’re embarrassed.”
You instantly turned your face away. Which only made him smile even more fondly.
“Come home soon okay,” you finally said quietly.
Yoongi’s expression instantly softened again.
“Hm.”
“I miss you.”
“I miss you more.”
“Overconfident.”
“I’ll prove it later.”
. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁.
The time difference started becoming more and more annoying once BTS began touring in America.
In Seoul it was already evening while the sun there had only just risen. Sometimes you had just finished work while Yoongi was still at rehearsal. Sometimes you woke up in the morning to dozens of random texts from him sent at three in the morning local time because he couldn’t sleep again.
And the longer the tour went on, the more the longing started to settle in too.
Not the dramatic kind of longing that makes you cry every night. But the kind that appears in small things.
Like when you automatically took out two glasses from the cabinet before realizing you were living alone in the apartment right now. Or when you found Yoongi’s black hoodie still hanging over the living room chair and instinctively hugged it for a second because it still carried traces of his familiar perfume and laundry scent.
Or when you came home exhausted from work and realized there was no Yoongi sprawled across the sofa pretending to sleep just so you would approach him first.
That night you were sitting at the apartment work desk while staring at packaging design files that hadn’t gotten anywhere for hours. The desk lamp glowed brightly while the rest of the apartment stayed dim and quiet. Light rain fell outside the window, making the atmosphere feel calmer and lonelier at the same time.
You had just changed the song on Spotify when your phone vibrated.
Incoming video call:
Yoongi.
A smile instantly appeared on your face without realizing it.
You hadn’t even pressed accept yet, but half your exhaustion was already gone.
The moment the call connected, the screen immediately showed a shaky camera moving everywhere. At first there was only a bright sky and the sound of people passing by. Then a few seconds later Yoongi’s face appeared.
And seriously.
He looked way too relaxed for someone who was supposed to be world famous.
A black cap pulled low. An oversized gray hoodie. His mask was hanging under his chin because he was probably too lazy to talk with it covering his face. Black hair sticking out slightly from under the cap and moving with the wind.
He walked slowly while holding his phone low, like he was genuinely just some ordinary person wandering around an evening market.
Even though he was Min Yoongi.
That was exactly what stressed you out.
“You’re outside?” you asked while automatically sitting up straighter.
“Hm.”
Yoongi’s answers were always short when he was relaxed. His voice sounded heavier from tour exhaustion, but there was a lighter tone that rarely appeared whenever he was genuinely enjoying himself.
The camera shifted slightly, showing small stores around him. Everything was full of color. Neon hanging fabrics, hand-painted ceramics, tiny lights, and faint street music in the distance.
You immediately understood why he liked that place. Because it felt alive. And because it was exactly the kind of place that would make you stop at every shop just to stare at random cute things.
“You went out alone?” you asked again.
“Hoseok and Jungkook are eating. I got bored at the hotel.”
His answer sounded so casual that you had to stop yourself from sighing loudly.
Yoongi was always like this.
Sometimes he still forgot who he was now.
Not because he was arrogant or intentionally dismissing his own popularity. Actually the opposite. Sometimes he genuinely still thought he could casually walk around without attracting too much attention, especially outside Korea.
Even now?
Even people who didn’t follow BTS would probably still recognize his face.
And you knew perfectly well the other members often said the same thing—Yoongi was sometimes way too relaxed about himself.
“Are you even being careful?” you asked while lowering your laptop volume.
“I’m wearing a cap.”
You stared at the screen flatly.
“That’s not a disguise.”
“I’m also wearing a hoodie.”
“Wow. Incredible.”
Yoongi chuckled softly.
His laugh mixed faintly with footsteps and market noise, but it was still enough to make the corner of your lips lift too.
Even so, you kept paying attention to the surroundings behind the camera. People passed by without caring, but there was still a small nervous feeling sitting in your chest.
Not because you didn’t trust him to take care of himself.
But because you knew what the world was like now. One person realizes that’s Min Yoongi from BTS, and five minutes later there could already be a crowd.
And the funny thing was, Yoongi himself still looked genuinely confused whenever that happened.
“You seriously…” you muttered while leaning back in your chair, “still think you guys are nobodies sometimes huh?”
Yoongi stayed quiet for a second before finally smiling faintly.
“Sometimes I forget.”
“Exactly.”
“I’m just taking a short walk.”
“You say ‘just taking a short walk’ like you’re some guy running the neighborhood photocopy shop.”
He laughed more clearly this time.
And honestly, you liked hearing him laugh like that.
Lately the tour schedule has been too exhausting. His face often looked tired. So every time Yoongi sounded genuinely relaxed and comfortable, you felt relieved too.
The camera moved again, showing rows of tiny colorful stores. Neon-painted Mexico skulls, brightly embroidered fabrics, flower mugs, and strange ornaments that somehow still looked artistic.
“You’d love places like this,” he suddenly said.
And he was right.
Your eyes were instantly drawn to all the colors.
You have always loved bright things. Random tiny objects that were cute and overly crowded-looking. Even your apartment had colorful decorations. Yoongi often mocked for having “too many colors.”
“I bought something for you,” he added casually, as if that sentence alone didn’t instantly warm your heart.
You automatically turned quickly toward the screen.
“Hah?”
Yoongi looked satisfied seeing your reaction.
He was always like that. Sometimes purposely saying things suddenly just to watch your shocked expression.
“I kept seeing it and thinking about you.”
And god.
No matter how simple the sentence was, it still always made your chest soften.
Because Yoongi wasn’t the type to openly act romantic. Which was exactly why small things like “I saw this and thought of you” felt far more special.
You immediately started guessing excitedly.
Maybe a cute plate.
Maybe embroidered fabric.
Maybe a long brightly-colored dress Yoongi himself would never touch but would still choose because “this is so you.”
The more you imagined it, the more curious you became.
Especially because the way Yoongi kept holding back his smile clearly showed he was enjoying this.
“Come on, show me,” you whined.
“No.”
“Yoongi.”
“You’ll laugh.”
“It’s fine.”
He finally stopped walking in front of one of the stores. The camera lowered slightly toward shelves full of colorful ornaments.
Then he picked something up.
At first you didn’t realize what it was.
Until he lifted it closer to the camera.
“…is that a skull?”
Yoongi instantly grinned faintly.
“Yeah.”
You stared at the screen for several seconds with a blank expression.
Out of everything in Mexico…
Your boyfriend chose a skull.
But of course it wasn’t just any skull.
It was a brightly painted Día de los Muertos ceramic skull. Pink flowers, blue lines, neon yellow, tiny bright green details. It looked more cute than scary.
Still—
“Why a skull…”
“But the colors are cute.”
“You’re seriously weird.”
Yoongi actually looked proud of his choice.
He slowly rotated the skull toward the camera like he was showing off expensive artwork.
And the longer you looked at it, the more it really did feel… very you.
Crowded colors.
Weird.
Slightly chaotic.
“You like it, right?”
You tried holding back your smile.
Because honestly, this really was Min Yoongi-style romance.
Not flowers.
Not stuffed dolls.
Not expensive jewelry.
But a random colorful skull he saw at a market and immediately thought of you.
And somehow that made your heart ache from affection.
“You know normal people buy flowers for their girlfriends.”
“I’m different.”
“Clearly.”
“You don’t like it?”
You finally laughed softly while leaning your head back against the chair.
“I do…”
“Exactly.”
“But you’re still weird.”
Yoongi laughed in satisfaction again.
Behind him, the shop lights had started turning on because evening was approaching there. The bright colors around him looked warmer now. And in the middle of that crowded market, Yoongi stood there holding his ugly-cute little skull proudly.
Strangely enough…
That sight only made you miss him more.
Because you could clearly imagine him casually walking from store to store, then stopping the second he saw that thing and thinking:
“This would definitely be something Y/N likes.”
And now you really wished you were there with him.
summary: rough sex, blood money, drugs, gang related activity, and murder; five things you never predicted to experience in your simple life. not until you opened your mouth and caught his attention.
warnings: smut, gunplay, drugs, drug addiction, dark!yoongi, drug lord!yoongi, strong language, gang violence, blood and gore, murder, manipulation, possessive/obsessive behavior, abuse, cheating, angst, fluff, dubcon, implied noncon (not from yoongi but within his gang with his knowledge), 18+, minors dni.
pairings: gang leader!yoongi x f.reader.
word count: 13.6k.
chapter playlist: knocking on heaven’s door - bob dylan
masterlist directory
You stared back at the brunet, unable to form words. Two days of absolute silence, and here he was so suddenly. You didn't know whether to be angry or relieved at his presence. "I, uh, went to Makoto, but your boss said you never came in for your shift or called," he said, rubbing the back of his neck. "Thought I'd come make sure you were okay."
“A call would have sufficed, if you actually cared,” you stated flatly. You decided both emotions were valid. You were undeniably happy to see Jungkook, but the sight of him only magnified your anger. It shouldn't have taken him two days to finally reach out.
"I thought it was better to give you space after what happened. I know how you are, y/n."
You let out a short scoff. "How I am?" you questioned, furrowing your eyebrows, your voice slightly rising. “Go ahead and enlighten me on how I am, Jungkook.”
Jungkook sighed, his lip ring clanking against his teeth as he pulled his bottom lip inward. “Can we talk inside? I really don’t wanna do this in your hallway.” He pleaded. Jungkook was never truly the confrontational type, which contradicted you because you in fact were the confrontational type.
You huffed, brushing past him to unlock your apartment door. Once both of you were inside, you shut the door firmly. Jungkook immediately walked to your couch and sat down, patting the cushion beside him as an invitation for you to sit. You hesitated for a brief moment before giving in, placing your plushy and purse on the table.
You sat beside him, hands clasped tightly in your lap, avoiding eye contact. The tension in the silence was thick. “So... why weren't you at work today? It's not like you to miss a shift.” he finally started. You fiddled with your fingers, scrambling for an excuse for your absence. “I….umm… went to the Daegu fair,” you admitted, only fabricating the truth just a tad. "With Mina."
Jungkook tilted his head, a frown forming his lips. "You did a no-call, no-show to go to the Daegu fair? What were you thinking?" he asked, ready to lecture you. You certainly weren't in the mood to hear it, especially from him. Not now. It felt like he was deliberately trying to pivot away from the real issue at hand; your relationship and his cold, dead silence.
"I was thinking I wanted to have some fun, and not sit at work wondering why the man I care about ghosted me for two days." you snapped. This brought the brunet down a notch, making him exhale heavily. The room fell silent once again, but not for very long. "Look, I'm sorry," Jungkook said. "It's just... we've been best friends since we were kids and–"
“And you still only see me as that." You cut him off.
"No," he countered sternly. "What we have is special because of our history. We got to be best friends before having a romantic connection, which is rare. You're not like any girl I've dated. You’re much more to me. I don't want to mess this up. I don't wanna lose you. I can't. The thought terrifies me because I’m losing more than my girl, I’m losing my best friend too,"
Your eyes finally connected with his, your demeanor softening at his words. "I want our first time to be special," he continued. "I don't want it to be random sex like I’m used to. I want your first experience to be your best experience.”
You sighed, nodding your head. "You're right. It should be special..." you replied. You understood Jungkook's view; it was sweet, and it showed just how much he truly valued you. You appreciated his sentiment, but you were still frustrated. Sexually frustrated. You were ready for more. It was easy for Jungkook to sideline sex when he’d been having it since high school. Meanwhile, you, the innocent virgin, had spent all this time waiting for your first crush to choose you. Now that he finally has, the reward feels slightly lackluster.
"I'm sorry," you finally said. You weren't entirely sure if you meant it, but for now, you just wanted to put the drama behind you. Jungkook smiled, taking your hands in his, and you gladly let him. "I missed you," he said. "It doesn't feel right not talking to you every day."
You returned a genuine smile. "The feeling is mutual. But if you ever ghost me again, prepare for me to come to the tattoo shop with a vengeance." You playfully squinted your eyes at him.
Jungkook chuckled, nodding his head. "I wouldn't expect anything less." He says. After a moment of silence the brunet’s eyes flicked behind you, catching sight of the new plush toy sitting on top of the table. “Nice plushie,” he smirked, knowing all too well how much you loved anything Hello Kitty related. “Guess you and Mina had a good time at the fair, huh?”
You followed his gaze to the plushie. “Yeah… surprisingly, I did.” You chewed on your bottom lip, your mind suddenly miles away, fixed on the raven.
"Well, well, well. Look who decided to show up today after ditching without a call," Jimin said, a smirk plastered on his face as he stepped out of the kitchen with two glasses of water. "The old man's gonna have a field day." He was joking, but there was truth to it.
You sighed, biting the inside of your cheek. You knew a lecture was coming, along with an endless amount of dish and bathroom duty. Possibly even termination. Mr. Kim hated when staff called in, but he especially loathed it when they didn’t.
"I’m nervous as it is," you said. "Did Mr. Kim say anything to you about me?"
"To me? No," Jimin replied, setting the glasses down at the table he was waiting on. "But you know how he is about punctuality. No exceptions."
You rubbed the nape of your neck and slowly shuffled toward the back of the kitchen to meet your doom.
“Good luck!” Jimin teased.
God, what would you do if you lost your job at Makoto? The job market was brutal right now, and finding new employment wouldn’t be easy. You were terrified of the domino effect that would follow.
Mr. Kim noticed you immediately upon entering the kitchen, but to your surprise, he only nodded in your direction. "Good evening, y/n. Glad to see you came in today," he said calmly before dusting his hands on his apron. “Hurry up and clock in, Jimin could use some assistance out there.”
Your eyebrows scrunched. ‘That’s it? No yelling? No speech? What's his angle?’ you wondered hesitantly.
“O-oh, uh… of course…” you stammered. You grabbed your time card and swiped it through the clock. You glanced back at Mr. Kim, who handled the orders just as he did on any other day. But today shouldn’t have been like ‘any other day’. It should have been a day of reckoning for ditching work yesterday, yet Mr. Kim didn’t even seem to care. You decided that you would just rip the bandage off and bring it up yourself.
"Hey, Mr. Kim, about not calling in yesterday…" you started, but the old man instantly cut you off.
"Don't worry about it, kid! It happens." He said, quickly dismissing the conversation.
You stood stunned. This was certainly unlike your boss. Mr. Kim could be kind when he wanted to be, but when it came to work, he was a stickler for the rules. As Jimin had said, there were no exceptions.
You wondered what could have made him so nonchalant about a no-call, no-show, until suddenly, Yoongi's voice flashed through your mind.
"Don't stress about that, princess. I'II deal with your boss after the fact."
Could it be that Yoongi had actually followed through? It was the only explanation for Mr. Kim's uncharacteristic behavior. Even though the raven had said he’d handle it, you hadn’t honestly believed him. You didn’t think Yoongi could actually hold that kind of power over someone as headstrong as Mr. Kim. It left you wondering what else, exactly, that man could control.
Nevertheless, you smiled slightly to yourself, knowing he had used that power to keep your job intact. You grabbed an apron from the hook, along with a notepad and pen, preparing to head out to the floor. Just then, Jimin walked in, his expression uneasy. “What’s your problem?” You ask him, an eyebrow perched.
"T-table three wants you to take their order instead of me," the brunet said.
You didn't even need to question why; his unease told you exactly who was sitting at table three. You nodded, tying your apron around your waist. Jimin exchanged a look with Mr. Kim behind you before you headed out to the dining floor. To your lack of surprise, there sat Yoongi and Joon across from each other. You poked the inside of your cheek with your tongue, a small smile trying to peek through.
"There's my favorite waitress," the raven smiled as you approached. His left arm rested casually on the back of his chair.
You squinted at him, folding your arms across your chest. "Looks like someone’s too anxious to wait until tonight," you stated.
Yoongi shrugged. “What can I say? You make me feel like I’ve got a school crush. I want to see you whenever I can.” He smirked, biting down on his bottom lip.
You rolled your eyes, but inside, butterflies were already beginning to flutter. “Are you two here to order, or are you just here to cause trouble?” you asked, quickly changing the subject. You didn’t want to look like you actually enjoyed Yoongi’s presence, not with Jimin lurking nearby. He had a big mouth, and before you knew it, Jungkook and Mina would find out that there was something unspoken forming between you and Yoongi.
“I don’t know about the boss man here, but I could go for some Jjajangmyeon and a cool bottle of soju. Don’t bring me any of that warm shit,” Joon said.
You eyed the lanky man. “We don’t serve alcohol here,” you stated dryly.
“Well, that’s a fucking buzzkill. What do y’all serve here?”
“You can try looking at the menu in front of you.” You snarked. You couldn’t help the smart remarks when it came to Joon. He simply rubbed you the wrong way, Yoongi’s right-hand man or not. You didn’t like him.
Joon smirked, your snarkiness having no bearing on him. “Someone’s testy today. This isn’t very good customer service,” he joked, though he picked up the menu nonetheless. He scanned through the drink section before closing it. “I’ll take a cola,” he said.
You wrote down his order, then turned to Yoongi, who seemingly hadn’t taken his eyes off you the entire time. “And you?”you questioned the raven.
“I’ll take some water, sweetheart. I didn’t come here for the food.” The raven said.
You nodded, not needing to write it down. As you collected their menus from the table, you hesitated. “Hey, um…” you started, keeping your voice low. “Thanks for actually talking to my boss. You seriously saved me from getting fired.”
Yoongi tilted his head slightly. “You said ‘actually’ as though you had no faith in my word. You didn’t think I’d talk to your boss?” he questioned.
“You want me to be honest?”
“That’s all I ever want you to be with me, sweetheart.”
“Okay then,” you nodded, keeping your voice hushed so you wouldn't be overheard. “No. I didn’t think you’d talk to my boss. I thought it was just a little lie you told to get me to come with you yesterday.”
The raven smirked at your doubt. “One thing you need to learn about me, princess, is that my word is bond. When I say I’m gonna do something, I do it.” He held his smirk, but there was something beneath it now, something entirely serious. Dangerous, even.
And you liked it. Shamefully.
"Noted," you said, your gaze locked with his dark, intense eyes. Before the moment could stretch any further, the bell above the front door chimed, snapping you back to reality. "'I’ll be right with you-" The customer service voice died in your throat. You froze as you turned around, coming face to face with a familiar brunet.
"J-Jungkook?" You stuttered. “What’re you doing here?”
Jungkook's smile vanished as he looked past you, spotting Yoongi sitting there. He squinted, a hard edge replacing his previously soft expression. "I'm on my break... thought I'd come in to see you." His eyes remained glued to the raven. "What the hell is he doing here?"
You looked back at Yoongi, his eyes dark and intimidating as they always were, his glare on Jungkook vicious. "They're, uh... ordering food," you said. You could feel people in the restaurant starting to stare, Jimin included.
"I think they need to order food somewhere else," Jungkook spat, his gaze hardening on Yoongi.
"Is that right?" The raven finally spoke, his voice dangerously monotone.
"You trying to start somethin', chief?" Joon chimed in, shifting in his seat, fully prepared to back Yoongi. “Because we don’t have a problem sending you out on a stretcher.”
You shivered at those words. Knowing there was no way this situation would end well for Jungkook, you quickly stepped in. Grabbing the bushy haired man by the arm, you pushed him away from their table and steered him toward an empty one across the restaurant."Are you trying to get yourself jumped?" you asked, keeping your voice low as you questioned the brunet.
Jungkook scoffed. "I'm not scared of those pussies like everyone else. Especially when it comes to you." He finally pulled his gaze away from their table and onto you. "You okay? Is he still harassing you?" he asked.
You sighed. You understood Jungkook's frustration with seeing Yoongi. After everything you had told him about your first encounter with the raven, plus his murdered friend having some type of connection to him, you could imagine why he was so bold.
"They're really just here to eat, and no matter how much disdain I have for someone, I still have to act on a professional level while at work. I don't think fighting helps my case."
The brunet ran his fingers through his hair, sighing deeply. "You're right. I'm sorry," he apologized, his hand reaching out to gently rub your arm.
"Don't worry about it, okay? Just sit down and order something. You came here for me, right?" You smiled, hoping that would bring his mood back up. The brunet grinned back, unable to stay angry when you were in his presence. "Right," he agreed, taking a seat at the table you had escorted him to."My focus is on you, beautiful." He placed a hand on your hip.
You could feel the cold stare burning into your back, the raven glaring daggers in your direction.You didn't bother to look back as you kept your attention on Jungkook.
"Hey, waitress," Yoongi's voice suddenly chimed behind you. You turned around. "Is this how your boss runs his establishment? How about instead of fucking around with your little boyfriend, you get us our orders?" There was venom in his voice when he spat the word “boyfriend”. Of course, no one could spot it except you– and maybe Joon. You scowled at the raven for calling you out so loudly.
"Hey," Jimin whispered, quickly walking up to Jungkook's table. He nudged your shoulder. "You take care of their orders, and I'll take Jungkook's. I don't wanna know what those guys will do if they have to wait any longer."
You complied, not wanting to take that chance and find out either. Leaving Jimin to handle Jungkook, you headed back into the kitchen and ripped the order from your notepad to hook it onto the ticket line. "The hell is going on out there?" Mr. Kim asked, frowning.
"Nothing anymore. Jimin and I have it under control," you assured him as you grabbed two cups from the dish shelf. Moving toward the beverage station, you filled both cups with ice before pouring their respective drinks. You marched back out to the dining room and set the cups down on Yoongi's table. "Satisfied?" you asked the raven.
"Not nearly," he grimaced. "What would satisfy me right now would leave you devastated, sweetheart." His voice was calm, but his words were dark. You chose not to push, truly not wanting to know what he meant by that. "Your food should be out shortly," you said to Joon, deliberately avoiding the raven’s eyes.
You turned around, leaving Yoongi and Joon alone at their table. Spotting Jungkook waving you over, you walked up to the grinning brunet with a playful sigh. “Yes, trouble?” you asked. He rolled his eyes at the newfound nickname. “I was thinking… How about a movie night tonight? I think we’re overdue for one.” he suggested. You raised an eyebrow, crossing your arms over your chest. “You mean a repeat of last time? Because unless my memory is failing me, that was an absolute disaster.”
"Yeah, well, this time will be different. After our talk last night, I'm hoping we both have a better understanding of our feelings," he said, taking your hand in his. You tilted your head, biting the inside of your cheek. Even if you did want to give in to his movie night plan, you couldn't. You already had plans with a certain black haired man tonight.
"You know, I'd love to, but I already made plans with Mina tonight,” you lied, offering a convincing smile. "She wants us to have a whole girls' night in. Makeup, nails, talking about our relationships. The whole works."
Jungkook pouted. "First the fair, now a girls' night? I'm beginning to think Mina is stealing my girl." He joked.
You giggled, rolling your eyes at the brunet. "Don't be so dramatic," you said. "We always have tomorrow night."
“Fine,” Jungkook relented, tossing a look of fake defeat your way. “I didn't wanna watch your cheesy movies tonight anyway.”
You gasped, slapping a hand over your heart as if deeply offended. “You love my cheesy movies.”
"No, I love you. There's a difference," Jungkook said.
The words hung heavily in the air between you, and you instantly froze. The words echoed in your mind, catching you entirely off guard. Jungkook had never confessed his feelings so plainly before. You had practically a lifetime of history together as best friends, but hearing him say those words out loud changed everything in an instant. You stared at him, speechless. Realizing exactly what he had just admitted, Jungkook's eyes widened, and a dark blush rapidly overtook his face.
"S-so tomorrow night?" he stammered, his voice cracking slightly as he scratched the nape of his neck in pure embarrassment.
"Uh-yeah... yeah... see you tomorrow night," you stuttered, your voice trailing off.
You had absolutely no idea how to respond, and your only saving grace was a nearby customer waving you over to request their bill. Seizing the lifeline, you quickly retreated to their table and left Jungkook alone with his thoughts. The moment your back was turned, the brunet squeezed his eyes shut, burying his face in his hands as he cussed quietly to himself.
You grabbed the customer's card from the table and turned to go swipe it at the kiosk, but before you could move any further, you noticed Yoongi and Joon preparing to leave. You furrowed your brows; Joon's food hadn't even been served yet. "Um... hello? Did you forget you ordered food?" you questioned the lanky man as they walked past you.
Yoongi didn't say a word, his expression unreadable as he moved toward the exit.
"I think I'll pass on the ramen, Wonder Woman. The atmosphere in this joint kinda makes me sick," Joon said.
You poked the inside of your cheek with your tongue as you watched them head for the door, but they didn't leave without throwing one last vicious glare at Jungkook. Jungkook, of course, glared right back.
"See ya around, chief," Joon scowled in his direction before they finally walked out into the street.
You hadn’t received a single text from Yoongi by the time your shift ended. You had been entirely certain the raven would be eagerly waiting the exact second you clocked out, but an hour had already passed since you’d been off. Trying to shake the growing unease, you showered and slipped into a cute little floral dress. It was a stark contrast to the workout outfit you had worn to that first so called “kickback”.
You sighed, staring down at your blank phone screen. Still, there was no call, no text. What was his issue? One minute he’s telling you how he wants to see you whenever he can, and now he was acting like he couldn't care less about the plans he had made. He couldn't possibly be upset about Jungkook, could he? How childish if he was.
A soft knock suddenly sounded at your front door.
‘Finally,’ you thought, a wave of relief washing over you. ‘Took him long enough.’
You walked into the living room and peeked through the peephole. You were fully expecting to see a familiar mess of long, dark hair, but instead, your neighbor, Hoseok, stood on the other side. You hadn't seen much of him since his stare down with Yoongi in the hallway. Pushing down your surprise, you opened the door and greeted him. "Hoseok, hey," you smiled.
Hoseok returned the small smile, but his expression remained entirely serious. "Hey, y/n. Do you mind if I come in?" He asks. You hesitated for a moment, glancing back toward your bedroom where your phone sat in total silence, almost as if Yoongi might choose this exact second to call you. "It won't take too long," Hoseok assured you, his voice gentle but firm, as if he had read your mind completely.
You nodded, opening the door wider for him to enter your apartment before closing it behind him. Hoseok stood there in the entryway, his hands shoved deep into his pockets. You had never seen him look so serious; it was actually a little scary. Whenever you ran into him around the building, Hoseok always had a bright smile on his face. Seeing Yoongi that night really seemed to have shattered his entire personality.
“So, how do you know Yoongi?" Hoseok asked abruptly.
"Uh.." You recounted the moment you had first met the raven, remembering how close you had been to stabbing Joon with a pair of chopsticks until Yoongi intervened. "I met him at my job not long ago." You rubbed your arm awkwardly, completely refusing to go into full detail.
"Do you owe him money or something? Are you safe? Is he forcing you to sleep with him?"
He was completely overwhelming you with the sudden barrage of questions. You shook your head quickly, cutting him off before he could say anything else. "Hoseok, no. I don't owe him money, and I'm fine. Yoongi and I are acquaintances, just like I told you last time. That's all."
He furrowed his eyebrows deeply. "That's all? Y/n, you're a sweet girl. I've lived across the hall from you long enough to know that. Why would you ever get into the mix with the likes of him? Do you know who he is? What he does? What he's done to people? Yoongi is dangerous."
"And you know that firsthand, don't you?" you snapped.
Hoseok froze.
"Yeah, I know you used to work for Yoongi. He told me," you continued, crossing your arms. "I also know you two were best friends."
Hoseok clenched his jaw, the silence stretching tight between you. "Yeah, we were. Me, Yoongi, and Joon. We grew up together, started this shit together. But Yoongi got dark. Got money hungry. Wanted to be something more powerful. Now he's a monster... maybe he'd always been a monster deep down." Hoseok's voice trailed off, his eyes clouding over as his mind reminisced about a past he had tried so hard to leave behind. About the friend he once had.
"You grew up with Joon too," you countered. "He's shown me he's more of a monster than Yoongi, yet you hold more disdain for Yoongi. Why?"
When you had first met Joon, he was ready to attack an old couple just for a restaurant table, and then he had turned on you for standing up to him.
Hoseok scoffed. "Because I expected this from Joon. Maybe not to this extent of darkness, but Joon was always trouble. He only started hanging out with us after Yoongi met him in juvie at thirteen. And Yoongi didn't truly start getting into trouble until his parents died, that’s when everything changed."
Your mind drifted back to the fair, recalling what the raven had said about his connection to Joon. It was only after Nam-Joon’s release from juvie that they had all become close.
You sighed. None of this answered why Hoseok was so fearful of Yoongi now. They started their empire together, so Hoseok clearly hadn't had any qualms about the lifestyle back then. Why the sudden change? Curiosity burned in the back of your mind, and you opened your mouth to ask, but before you could, your phone started to ring from the other room.
You rushed to your bedroom, snatching the device off the bed. It was Yoongi. "Is that him?" Hoseok called out from the living room. Ignoring his question, you swiped the screen and brought the phone to your ear. "Hello?"
"I'm outside. Come out, and don't take too long," the raven demanded, his tone clipped. He hung up before you could even draw a breath to reply. You clicked your tongue in annoyance, pulling the phone away from your ear. "Listen, Hoseok, I can't sit here and talk about this right now. I have to go," you said, grabbing your purse off the nightstand.
"That was him, wasn't it?" he asked again, stepping toward your bedroom doorway. You offered no answer. "Look, I know I'm just your neighbor, and I can't tell you what to do, but I don't think you should keep hanging around him."
You shook your head, completely unready to process his warnings right now, but he remained persistent.
"Why do you care so much about what I do?" you retorted, eyeing the brunet. "Why do you care if I hang out with Yoongi?"
"Because you remind me of her."
You furrowed your eyebrows. "Of her? Who's her?"
Hoseok's eyes began to water, a raw pain breaking through his serious facade. "The only woman I've ever loved. She's gone... because of him. He took her just to get back at me, and he got away with it."
"What? What do you mean?"
Before Hoseok could answer, your phone buzzed violently in your hand. It was a text from Yoongi, undoubtedly urging you to hurry the hell up. "I have to go." You muttered, putting the terrifying conversation aside. You walked out to the entryway and opened your apartment door, gesturing for Hoseok to leave first.
He exited into the dimly lit corridor, but he didn't head toward his own apartment. Instead, he stood out in the hallway, his sorrowful eyes heavy upon you as you locked your door. He stared at you like this was going to be his last time seeing you. “Later, Hoseok.” You say, quickly disappearing down your hall.
The cool outside breeze brushed against your bare skin the moment you stepped out of the building. You immediately recognized Yoongi's black Nissan parked at the curb instead of the sleek red one you two had ridden to the fair in. He switched cars like he switched underwear.
Walking around the hood, you opened the door and climbed into the passenger seat. "Took you long enough," the raven grumbled, not even looking at you as he shifted into drive. "I don't have the patience to be kept waiting."
You grimaced at his sour attitude. The absolute nerve of him to complain about a few minutes when he had just kept you waiting for a full hour. You pulled your seatbelt across your chest and buckled it in, and the car instantly surged forward into the night. Silently, you side eyed him, taking in his outfit. He wore a simple black hoodie with dark jeans, a chain clipped to his belt loops. He was a man who clearly adored his silver; another chain hung around his neck, and a couple of silver rings on his fingers. His long, dark hair was artfully messy, framing his face.
You had been expecting the raven to compliment your dress, as he usually never missed an opportunity to praise your appearance, but he stayed entirely silent, keeping his eyes glued to the dark road. You pulled your bottom lip between your teeth. It was weird not hearing Yoongi speak to you. Usually, you were the one giving him the silent treatment. Clearly, he was in a mood, so you opted against mentioning a single word of what Hoseok had just told you. Though curiosity was burning a hole in your chest, you didn’t want to piss him off any further.
Still, you decided to break the silence anyway, completely detesting the suffocating quiet inside the car. “What were you up to that took you so long?” you asked.
He looked over at you, a single sharp eyebrow raised, before turning right back toward the road without offering a word.
“Okay, don’t tell me then,” you huffed. You crossed your arms, turning your back to him to stare out the passenger window. Usually, the raven would have finally broken down and said something sarcastic by now, but instead, he simply reached forward and flicked on the radio.
You whipped your head around in total shock. What the hell was with this attitude? He was acting like a total child, and for the sake of your own sanity, you refused to let it go on for another second.
“Okay,” you started, your hand immediately darting out to slap the radio knob off. “What's your deal right now? You invited me to this stupid kickback, but now you’re acting like you wish I weren’t even here. I blew off a movie night with Jungkook to come out for you, but if you’re gonna be an asshole, then just take me home.”
Yoongi finally looked over at you, his sharp gaze cutting through the dim light of the car. “You blew off your little boyfriend to be with me?”
You nodded, suddenly finding your fingernails incredibly interesting. "I mean, you asked me first. I didn't want to blow you off after saying I'd come."
Yoongi smirked slightly, nodding his head as he looked back at the road. It was as if your words were a sort of confirmation for him. Suddenly, the atmosphere inside the car didn't feel so suffocating anymore. "You look good in that dress." The raven said.
You bit your bottom lip, desperately trying not to smile at the awaited compliment. “You’re an asshole, you’re aware of that, right?”
“Extremely.”
The car pulled up to the warehouse that you'd come to know so well since getting involved with Yoongi. You noticed that, unlike last time, there weren't any people hanging out outside. No girls dressed in little to no clothing. No one smoking by the entrance. It was noticeably different from the last time.
"Am I gonna go upstairs and see a bunch of people in there?" you asked the raven, peeking out the window.
He snickered, turning off the ignition. "It's just Joon, some of my guys, and whatever bitches they brought. Just like I told you yesterday. Don't worry, sweetheart. I wouldn’t steer you wrong.” He assures you, leaning back in his seat.
"I wish you wouldn't call women 'bitches," you said, a look of dismay crossing your features. “It’s so degrading.”
"My apologies, princess. I'll rephrase that; whatever whores they brought." The raven smirked, leaning across the console to catch your eye. "That better for you?"
You rolled your eyes, pushing your door open to climb out into the cool night air. Yoongi follows. The two of you walk up the stairs to the metal door, your mind flashing to when Yoongi had pushed you against it to give you a speech about how you speak to him. He pulls open the door, letting you walk ahead. You hear laughter and music as you walk up the stairs, and the smell of weed nauseated you. As you reach the main room, you’re amazed by how much different it looks without the load of people blocking every which way.
"Wonder Woman, you came through again!" Joon shouted, raising a solo cup high in his hand.
He was sitting amongst the two guys you recognized from last time, along with two others you hadn't seen before. Each of them had a girl sitting either on their lap or squeezed next to them on the couch. You noticed Sana sitting among the group, though she didn't appear to be there with any specific guy. Her sharp eyes locked onto you the exact moment you walked in with Yoongi.
‘Oh great, she's here…’ you thought dreadfully. This was going to be an absolute blast.
Yoongi walked toward an empty space on the couch, dropping down and patting the cushion right next to him. You sat down beside him, deliberately avoiding Sana's gaze as she continued to stare you down. "Here, have a sip." Joon passed you his cup.
You took it, looking down at the clear alcoholic beverage sloshing inside. "What's this?" you asked him.
"It's tequila."
"Yeah, your favorite. Remember?" Sana asked from across the room, her voice dripping with mock sweetness as she clearly referenced the night you had gotten drunk and danced right here in this very room.
You eyed the bitter woman, refusing to let her get under your skin. Without a word, you tipped your head back and downed the drink. The harsh liquor burned the back of your throat as it went down, but you didn't let your expression falter.
Joon hooted loudly, cheering your compliance as you handed him back the empty cup. "Oh, Y/n, you're my kind of woman, doll," Joon laughed.
"Yeah, my girl surely is somethin'," the raven said, casually resting his arm along the back of the couch behind you. You looked over at him, the urge to correct him and say you weren't his girl rising up, but you chose to let it slide for now, not wanting to make this awkward.
You instantly noticed them passing a blunt around the circle. Once Joon took a couple of hits, he offered it directly to you. You shook your head quickly, gesturing for him to pass it to Yoongi instead.
"Oh, c’mon, it's just weed," Joon insisted, still holding it out. “It ain’t gonna kill you.”
"That's fine. I've just never smoked it before," you said awkwardly, suddenly feeling like a complete amateur sitting in a room full of seasoned drug dealers and users.
"Of course you haven't. You're too much of a goody-goody," Sana remarked. The other girls cracked up, making a sudden wave of heat creep up your neck.
"Nothing wrong with being a good girl. A lot of us men find innocence sexy," Yoongi smirked, stepping in as he took the blunt from Joon's fingers. "Leaves room for corruption."
"I'm just scared of how it'll make me feel, that’s all." You admitted softly.
"It's like alcohol, but a different type of intoxication. Here, I'll help you." The raven shifted his weight, leaning in close as he took a long drag. Holding the smoke trapped in his lungs, he gestured with his free hand for you to move closer. You hesitated for a heartbeat, your breath catching, before leaning forward slowly. Yoongi stopped when he was mere inches away from your face, his dark gaze locking onto your mouth before he began to exhale the smoke, breathing it out little by little. Though you were skeptical, you leaned in the final inch, inhaling the gray smoke as it retreated past his lips.
A harsh cough ripped from your throat the second the smoke hit the back of your sensitive lungs. Yoongi moved back just a fraction, a lazy, satisfied grin spreading across his face as he took in your reaction. "See?" he smirked, his voice dropping an octave. "Corrupting you already."
You stared at the raven, bringing your bottom lip between your teeth. The two of you locked eyes, completely forgetting that there was an entire group of people watching your every move.
"Alright, alright, get a room already," Joon teased, snatching the blunt from Yoongi, which didn’t tear away the raven’s gaze. Yoongi kept his eyes firmly on you, entirely unfazed by the audience. "I wouldn't mind getting a room," he said, slowly running his tongue over his bottom lip. You swallowed the lump in your throat, suddenly feeling his hand begin to roam up your exposed thigh.
You quickly stood to your feet, breaking the contact before he could go any further. "Um, I think I could use another drink. I'm assuming the bottle is in the kitchen?" you asked, pointing toward the doorway and letting out an uncomfortable, nervous laugh.
Yoongi simply nodded, his grin turning cocky at your sudden fluster, clearly overjoyed at being the sole cause of it. You quickly shuffled away and escaped into the kitchen, feeling the anxious tightness in your chest finally begin to disperse the moment you were separated from the heavy atmosphere of the group.
Once your heartbeat finally settled, you grabbed an empty solo cup from the counter. Your eyes scanned the kitchen, landing on a bottle of Don Julio. You grabbed it, pulling the cork out with a sharp pop.
"You and Yoongi look super cozy together." The sudden voice startled you. You turned around to see Sana standing in the entryway, her arms crossed tight over her chest. You hadn’t even heard her sneak behind you.
"So what?" you said, turning your back to her again to pour the tequila into your cup.
"So, I thought you were very adamant about not being into him. Do you recall? Or were you too fucked up that night?"
You whipped back around to face her. "I'm not into him," you snapped, your tone sharp. "He just invited me, so I came. That's it."
It was a bold faced lie; anyone in that room could feel the electric tension between you and the raven. You tried your best to hide it, but then he went and pulled stunts like he just did on the couch, and all your defenses came crashing down. You were attracted to Yoongi. That was a fact you could no longer deny to yourself. But deep down, you knew nothing could ever come of it. You were with Jungkook.
You just hated that you had to keep reminding yourself of that.
“You can say whatever you want, convince yourself of whatever you need, but you can’t convince me,” Sana snarled, her voice dropping to a harsh, mocking tone. “I mean, I don’t blame you. He’s Min Yoongi. Out of all those guys sitting out there, he has a presence that no woman can resist. Clearly not even you, Miss Goody-Goody. Once he gets what he wants from you, then leaves you heartbroken, you’re gonna wish you listened to me.”
With one last judgmental look, she turned on her heel and swept out of the entryway, leaving you completely alone in the quiet kitchen. You quickly downed the burning liquid in your cup, letting it sear your throat as you emptied every last drop before immediately pouring yourself another one. Just as the liquor splashed into the bottom of the solo cup, you heard heavy footsteps approaching from behind. You turned slightly, watching the raven slide effortlessly into the kitchen.
"Slow down there, lightweight," he teased, a grin tugging at the corner of his lips as he took in the sight of the bottle in your hand. "I don't need you blacking out here."
You glared at him, throwing back the second drink before slamming the cup down onto the counter. "I'm ready to leave."
"What?" The raven raised an eyebrow, his lazy grin instantly vanishing. "We just got here," he stated, pointing out the obvious.
"Yeah, well, I'm not feeling quite like a people person tonight," you muttered, your mind in a million different places. First, there was Jungkook saying he loved you. Then, Hoseok's chilling warning. And now Sana with her crazy jealousy, clearly nowhere near over her past with Yoongi. It was all too much. You’d rather just have been alone to process everything, but Yoongi remained persistent about you staying.
“You don’t have to be. It won’t be too long before the guys dip out to get their nut off,” the raven said, his slow grin returning. He stepped a fraction closer to you, tilting his head to catch your eyes. “Then it’ll just be me and you… unless I’m included in your desire to not be around people right now?”
Naturally, you didn’t mind being around just Yoongi. He was the sole reason you had even come in the first place. But there was always a stubborn moral compass ringing inside your head, reminding you that any feelings you harbored toward the raven were wrong; a complete betrayal not only to Jungkook, but to Mina, too.
Yoongi literally sold coke to Mina's boyfriend, ruthlessly using him as one of his drug mules. Not to mention the terrifying reality that Yoongi had probably killed people, whether indirectly or by his own hands. Though, you weren't entirely sure how true that part actually was. A drug dealer? That fact was completely undeniable. But a killer? Could Yoongi truly be capable of murder? The man you had seen at the fair, the one who had looked at you with soft eyes, and shared a deep moment with you, couldn't possibly be a monster.
“Well, what about Sana?” you asked suddenly.
Yoongi raised an eyebrow, his dark eyes narrowing slightly at the random mention of Sana. “What the fuck about her?”
"She's here. Why don't you just have her keep you company?" you scowled, turning back around to pour another drink. But before you could even pop the cork out, Yoongi snatched the bottle completely out of your hand. He didn't say a word at first, his eyes locking onto yours as he set the bottle down on the counter behind him, clearing the distraction out of the way.
“Is that where this little attitude is coming from? Sana? I thought I told you I only fucked her once.”
"I don't care how many times you did. It's none of my business," you lied, keeping your voice tight as you tried to save face. "I just thought I'd make it clear that you have other options and don't need me here."
The raven stared at you for a moment, his riveted look causing you to fidget.
"When are you gonna stop pretending there's nothing here and just give in to me?" Yoongi asked, his voice dropping to a low, dangerous murmur as he took another step toward you. You instinctively tried to back away from him, but the hard edge of the counter pressed against your lower back, leaving you with absolutely no space left to move.
"B-because there isn't.." you stuttered, the denial tasting like ash on your tongue.
Yoongi closed the remaining distance between you two, his hands coming down to rest on the counter on either side of your hips. You were completely sandwiched between the raven and the cold marble surface. Your heart thumped frantically against your chest as he began to lean down toward your lips, his gaze dropping to your mouth. "There isn't?" he questioned, his breath fanning across your skin.
"Yo, Honcho–" Joon’s voice cut through the air as he popped his head through the entryway of the kitchen. He froze for a beat, taking in the sight of the two of you trapped in each other's space, before the corner of his lips pulled into a knowing smirk. “I always seem to pop in on you two at the craziest times,” he teased.
"What is it, Joon?" Yoongi's voice was rough, dripping with irritation at his second in command as he turned his head slightly to look at him, though his hands never left the counter, keeping you securely pinned.
"Me and the guys are gonna dip and handle our due diligence," Joon said, flashing a quick wink. It didn't take a scientist to figure out what he meant. It was exactly what Yoongi had predicted just minutes ago; they were heading out to get their nut off.
Yoongi nodded, but his full, dark attention immediately snapped back to you. "Is Sana still here?" he asked Joon, his eyes tracking the way your chest rose and fell.
"Yeah, she is. Why, what's up?"
"Send the bitch on her way," Yoongi said coldly.
"Say less," Joon complied, stepping backward out of the kitchen and leaving you and the raven completely alone once again.
You could hear his retreating footsteps heading back to the living room, followed shortly by the distant, muffled sound of him telling Sana it was time to go. "There. Problem solved, sweetheart," Yoongi said, finally taking a single step back from you, though his dark gaze never wavered. The raven reached over and grabbed the bottle of Don Julio, shaking it slightly in the air as a lazy smirk crept back onto his face. "Now it's just you and me. So, how about we drink and have a kickback of our own?"
"Then I tried to hop over the fence and my shirt got caught," Yoongi smirked, tucking a stray strand of his dark hair behind his ear as he recounted the first time he went to juvie.
The two of you were easily ten shots in by now, having moved the bottle from the kitchen to the living room couch. You were completely enveloped in a rare state of security. You sat comfortably against the cushions with your shoes discarded on the floor, your legs curled up tightly under you. Yoongi sat close beside you, leaning forward over his knees as he flicked a lighter to life, igniting another blunt.
You giggled at the raven's story, shaking your head. "Why didn't you just try to slip the shirt off?" you asked him.
"I was running for like thirty minutes trying to get away. At that point, I was too tired. I just said fuck it, take me," he chuckled. He shoved the lighter back into his sweatshirt pocket before taking a few deep puffs of the blunt, the tip glowing a dull orange in the dim room. "Anyway, shit happens for a reason. I wouldn't have met Joon if I didn't get caught that day."
Hearing him mention his first encounter with Joon instantly brought you back to Hoseok. You wanted to tell him about your neighbor’s crazy rambling, but you couldn't bring yourself to ruin the tranquil mood. The peace was too fragile; the second Hoseok’s name was even uttered, Yoongi’s entire demeanor would sour.
Yoongi looked over at you, extending his hand with the blunt pinched tightly between his index finger and thumb. "You wanna hit this?" he asked. You looked down at the brown wrap. You hesitated for a split second, but ultimately took the blunt from his fingers, your skin brushing against his.
Putting it to your lips, you took a few light, careful puffs, still too afraid to take massive hits the way Yoongi did. The raven smiled, his dark eyes watching you intensely, as if he expected you to choke if he wasn't being vigilant. "Thatta girl, princess. Shotgunned off of me once and now I got you smoking like a pro," he said proudly, his voice low and laced with satisfaction. You exhaled the smoke, then handed the blunt back to the raven.
"Don't get used to me doing that. I'm just enjoying the moment," you said, trying to keep your voice steady.
Yoongi shrugged, taking another slow hit from the blunt. "I'm proud either way, angel," he said.
You stiffened slightly at the nickname. You had never heard Yoongi call you that before. It was a term of endearment that belonged entirely to Jungkook. He used it all the time. Suddenly, your mind was flooded with the memory of Jungkook slipping up and saying he loved you at work earlier today, and a crushing wave of guilt washed over your chest. Here you were, hiding away and getting high with Yoongi, while Jungkook mindlessly believed you were just hanging out with Mina right now.
Yoongi's sharp eyes immediately noticed the shift, catching the exact moment you zoned out and went miles away. "You good?" he asked, his brow furrowing slightly as he studied your face. You debated on whether or not you should tell him what Jungkook had said today. Would he even care?
"Um... Jungkook said he loved me today." You looked over at the raven, your eyes searching his face to read his expression.
Yoongi ran his fingers through his dark hair, nodding his head slowly as if absorbing the news without letting it shake him. "And then what?" he asked, his voice steady as he waited for you to continue further.
"And then... nothing," you shrugged, the weight of the confession making your shoulders feel heavy. "I said nothing when he said it. I feel so horrible." You sighed, rubbing your hands over your face to shield yourself from the quiet of the room. You cared about Jungkook deeply, but these past few days, everything has felt entirely off between you two.
You felt... bored. Like the excitement was lost in the three months of dating. Maybe it took meeting someone like Yoongi to realize that.
"You don't love him," Yoongi stated, his voice flat and certain, as if he personally knew your own feelings and heart better than you did.
You furrowed your eyebrows at him, your chest tightening defensively. "What?"
"You don't love him," he casually repeated. He reached over to grab an empty Solo cup from the coffee table, dropping the butt of the blunt inside.
"And how the hell would you know how I feel?" you shot back, trying to summon enough anger to mask the panic rising in your throat.
"Because you're here with me," Yoongi said, leaning back against the cushions and pinning you with an intense look. "You turned down a movie night with him to spend time with me. That alone should tell you something."
You opened your mouth to defend your actions, but the words died in your throat. You couldn't. You were here with Yoongi, and the bitter, undeniable truth was that you didn't regret the decision at all.
You were genuinely enjoying these casual conversations with him. Ever since the Daegu fair, the raven had become entirely humanized in your eyes. Even though he sold drugs and carried a dangerous, mean streak to his name, you liked him.
You liked Yoongi.
The silence in the living room stretched between you, heavy and thick with the smell of smoke, as his words settled deep into your chest. Yoongi just tracked the movement of your lips, waiting, knowing he had trapped you in a corner where lies couldn't save you. So you didn’t attempt it.
You casually looked around, admiring the decor of the warehouse and searching for absolutely anything to change the suffocating topic. Your eyes landed on an all black acoustic guitar hanging neatly on the wall right next to the loft stairs. "That's a cool guitar," you said, motioning toward it.
Yoongi pulled his gaze away from you, tracking your movement until his eyes landed on the instrument. "That's my baby right there. My mom bought it for me before she passed," he said, a genuine, soft smile tugging at his lips at the memory of his mother.
"You play?" you questioned, a little surprised. "I thought it was just for decoration."
"Don't insult me, sweetheart. I don't do things just for the look," he rumbled playfully. He stood up from the cushions, walking over to retrieve the guitar from its mount before coming back to sit down on the couch right beside you. Yoongi began to tune the guitar, his long fingers adjusting the pegs with practiced ease. You were completely surprised he could even function with all the alcohol and weed running through his system, but the substances didn't seem to phase him even a little bit.
The raven strummed the strings to see if the tune was to his liking, the chords ringing out deep and crisp into the high ceilings of the warehouse. Then, his fingers shifted, and he began to play.
You watched him intently. He looked completely relaxed, his dark eyes focused on the fretboard as he plucked out an all too familiar melody—one that immediately made your chest tighten and your heart feel incredibly massive.
Knocking on Heaven's Door by Bob Dylan.
That was your dad's favorite song.
You hadn't heard the song in so long, having avoided it at all costs ever since your parents died. Yet, here Yoongi was playing it, handling the notes as though he could read your heart like an open book. The raven looked up at you, his fingers never missing a single strum despite his eyes locking onto yours. You felt a single tear escape and slip down your cheek. A quiet movement that didn't go unnoticed by him.
Yoongi immediately stopped playing, flattening his palm over the strings to kill the vibration. "You okay? I didn't mean to make you emotional," he murmured, his voice dropping into something genuinely gentle.
You shook your head, sniffing softly as you tried to swallow the lump in your throat. "No, you're fine. It's just... that song you played. It reminded me of my dad, that's all. That was his favorite song," you informed him, your voice cracking slightly on the words.
A wave of sympathy softened his sharp features. He carefully set the black guitar down onto the floor, completely discarding it to move closer to you on the cushions. Reaching out, the raven gently brushed the pad of his thumb against your cheek, wiping away the stray tear. “You’re too pretty to cry,” he whispered, his thumb lingering against your skin.
Min Yoongi.
When you first met him, those eyes made you shiver. They were scary, cold, and lifeless; the devil's eyes.
Now, those exact same eyes were looking at you like you were something so precious, something so breakable that he wanted to protect you from any further damage.
The raven's lips inched closer to yours. You followed suit, your breath hitching as your eyes fluttered closed, waiting to finally feel the soft pressure of his lips against yours. When his lips finally do meet yours, it wasn’t the harsh, reckless collision you might have expected from someone like Yoongi. It was soft, slow, and desperately tender. A quiet reassurance that sent a tingle straight down your spine. The faint taste of tequila and smoke lingered between you, blurring the edges of the room until nothing else existed but the warmth of his mouth against yours.
Yoongi’s hand slid from your cheek, his long fingers gently gripping the back of your neck to hold you steady, deepening the kiss with a low, heavy breath. You melted into him, your hands finding themselves on the soft fabric of his sweatshirt as you pulled yourself closer.
Every ounce of guilt, every lingering warning from Hoseok, and the ghost of Jungkook’s confession from earlier today were entirely washed away in the dark, quiet haze of the warehouse.
You found yourself slowly being pushed backward onto the plush cushions of the couch, the fabric of your dress riding up your thighs as Yoongi settled his body over yours, positioning himself flush between your legs.
Yoongi didn't break the kiss for a single second. Instead, his mouth grew hungrier, more possessive, tracing the seam of your lips as his hands left your neck to slide down to your waist, his grip firm and steady as he anchored you to the cushions beneath him. The contrast of his heavy frame pinning you down while treating you like something entirely precious made your breath hitch against his lips, your fingers tightening into the fabric of his sweatshirt to pull him even closer.
The sudden loss of his warmth made you gasp softly as Yoongi pulled his lips away from yours. He remained settled heavily between your legs, his dark eyes locked onto you as he crossed his arms and pulled his sweatshirt over his head in one fluid motion. The silver chain around his neck clanked in the quiet room before settling against his collarbone.
He tossed the discarded sweatshirt onto the floor, leaving him in just a plain white tee. Yoongi paused for a second, his chest rising and falling with hefty breaths as he used a hand to push his messy dark locks back out of his face. The intense, protective gaze was still burning in his eyes, but now it was laced with an undeniable hunger. Leaning back forward, he closed the distance between you once again, crashing his lips back onto yours with a newfound fervor that completely stole the air from your lungs.
The raven rolled his hips against you, the sudden, friction filled pressure making a soft whimper escape your lips. His large hands held your waist securely to the cushions before he pulled his lips away once more, all the while still grinding slowly against you.
"I promise to be gentle with you if you let me," he whispered, his breath hot and ragged against your skin. His hands slid up your sides, the rough texture of his palms catching against the fabric as he began to lift your dress further. A sudden wave of nerves crashed over you at the thought, making your chest tighten. You wanted him. You desperately wanted this, but the guilt was a massive wall standing right in the way.
You had always assumed you would lose your virginity to Jungkook. It was supposed to be safe, familiar, and organically planned. But Jungkook wasn't here.
Yoongi was.
He was right here, hovering over you with a patient hunger, waiting for the words that would change everything between you two.
"Y-Yoongi, we can't. I'm with Jungko-"
The raven clamped a hand over your mouth, stopping you from finishing his name. "I don't wanna hear his fucking name right now," he growled. His hips were still grinding into you, but his pace picked up, the sudden intensity making your breath hitch beneath his palm.
The consistent, heavy motion made your panties rub against your clit, sending a tingle straight down your spine. Yoongi slowly pulled his hand away from your lips, his dark eyes burning down into yours with an absolute, possessive gravity. "Tell me you don't want this, and I'll stop," he said, his voice a low command.
You didn't offer the raven any words, just a breathless moan that tore from your throat. A sound that was absolute music to his ears. He smirked down at how needy you looked underneath him, his ego flaring at his total control over you. How could you possibly pretend to not want this when you were coming apart already, and he hadn't even been inside of you yet?
"From the looks of it, you're so deprived that all it’Il take right now is dry fucking for you to cum," he rasped, his voice dropping into a dark, filthy purr that made your stomach completely flip. You couldn't deny it; this simple action really could be enough to cause an orgasm, but deep down, you wanted to go the extra mile with him. "Do it," you whined, your hips blindly tracking his movement as you completely lost your grip on your restraint. "J-Just do it."
That was all Yoongi needed to hear. He stopped grinding into you, pulling back to undo his jeans. He didn't take them fully off, opting instead to pull them down just enough for his hard cock to spring free from his Celine boxers. Your eyes widened slightly, and you swallowed the lump in your throat as you took in the full size and length of him. He was much bigger than you had expected him to be; it was no wonder Sana had a hard time getting over him after their one night stand.
The raven hooked his fingers into the hem of your panties, pulling them down and tossing them onto the floor right next to his sweatshirt. Your dress was still bunched up around your waist, leaving you completely exposed beneath him now. You instinctively tried to close your legs to hide yourself, but with his weight still settled right between your thighs, you couldn't move.
The raven smirked down at your failed attempt to hide, his thighs easily pulling yours further apart, refusing to let you close yourself off. But as he looked down, tracking the panicked rise and fall of your chest and the way you squeezed your eyes shut tight, the smug look vanished. Seeing how scared you were dragged him back to reality, reminding him exactly what this was for you.
Your first time.
The thought alone sent a possessive rush in his veins. You weren’t like the other women he had fucked, then passed around to his crew. You were pure. Untouched. Untainted. Your walls had never been broken, and knowing he was the very first to claim you made him want to lose all control, to pin you down and slam his dick straight into you. But he fought the urge back. He was willing to take this slow. He was willing to be gentle, just like he promised. He wasn't going to force his way in. Not yet.
"Relax for me," he murmured, his voice dropping into a low purr. Bypassing his cock for now, Yoongi reached down, his long fingers finding your slick, dripping heat. He pressed the pad of his thumb against your clit, making you gasp, before he slowly slid a single finger inside of you.
The feeling of his hot skin sliding into you sent an intense, unravelling ache straight to your core. Your inner walls clenched down around him, instantly tight and resistant to the sudden intrusion. Yoongi hissed softly at the brutal friction, the muscle in his jaw feathering as he held himself still. He didn't pull back; instead, he kept his finger buried deep inside you to let your body adapt, while the pad of his thumb began working in small, agonizingly slow circles to coax you open.
A mixture of pain and pleasure flooded your senses. You had never actually inserted anything inside of yourself before, only ever rubbing your clit when you were alone and horny, so this deep, stretching was completely overwhelming. The intensity of the feeling made it impossible to listen to his voice, let alone try to relax.
"Look at me," Yoongi growled, his voice dropping into a rough command as he noticed your breathing hitch. He pressed his thumb a little firmer against your clit, trying to ground you through the sensory overload. "I know it hurts a little, but you need to breathe for me. Let it slip in and out."
Your eyes flutter open upon his command as you try to breathe as told. Slowly, he began to curl his finger inside you, testing your limits and forcing your tight depths to widen for him. The sudden internal hook against your walls completely shattered your concentration, dragging a high, helpless whine from your throat. Your back arched slightly off the couch cushions, your hands clawing blindly into the fabric beside your head as your muscles instinctively clamped down once more around his finger.
Yoongi hissed again through his teeth, his knuckles turning white where his hand rested against the armrest behind your head. The crushing grip of your body around his finger was testing the absolute limits of his control, but he didn't back off. Instead, his gaze darkened with a relentless dominance. "I told you to breathe," he rasped, his voice dropping an octave, rough and completely devoid of room for negotiation.
He leaned more of his weight over you, his lean frame crowding you down and effectively trapping you flat against the cushions. His free hand moved from the armrest to slide up the side of your neck, his thumb bracing firmly under your jaw to tilt your face up. He didn't hurt you, but the grip was ironclad, forcing your eyes right back to his.
With you completely pinned beneath him, the pad of his thumb pressed down hard against your swollen clit, no longer stroking in gentle circles, but applying a heavy, flattening pressure that sent a sudden ache straight through your pelvis. He held it there, demanding your total submission.
"Stop fighting it," he commanded, his eyes burning into yours as he tilted his finger a fraction deeper against your tight walls. "If you can’t take one finger, how’re you supposed to take this dick, huh?” His grip tightens slightly on the side of your neck. “Huh?” he repeated, demanding your answer.
“I-I’m sorry…” you stammered, embarrassment flooding your chest as the weight of his standards settled heavily over you.
Yoongi shook his head at your apology. “Don’t apologize to me, babygirl. Just take it.”
The pet name hits you like a physical shock, melting through the sharp sting of the entrance and sending a completely different kind of heat pooling between your thighs. Hearing him call you that while his frame pinned you to the couch cushions made your heart hammer against your chest. Your fingers twitched against the fabric beside your head, your body instinctively wanting to soften under the sudden warmth of his praise, even as the fullness of his finger remained buried deep inside you, awaiting your compliance.
Your breathing finally began to stutter out in a long, trembling exhale, your chest sinking as you forced yourself to yield to his command. The tense, defensive coil in your hips slowly dissolved into the cushions, allowing the walls of your core to soften and untangle around his finger.
Yoongi watched the change happen in real time, his eyes tracking the exact moment the panic left your expression and your body opened up for him. A low, approving rumble vibrated deep in his chest as the tight friction around his hand gave way to an accommodating heat. "Good girl." he murmured, his voice dropping a quiet praise that made your stomach flutter.
The raven didn't hesitate. Seizing the moment your body relaxed, he slid his thumb out from under your jaw and used his free hand to firmly spread your legs a little wider, anchoring you in place. With a smooth shift of his knuckles, he aligned a second finger against your opening and pushed it straight inside, pairing it alongside the first before immediately driving them deep.
The sudden, thick invasion turned into a heavy, rhythmic thrusting that completely took your breath away. He set a demanding pace right from the start, his wrist moving with practiced precision as his fingers slid all the way in and pulled back just enough to drive right back into your heat. A choked gasp caught in your throat as the friction of two fingers moving deep inside of you stretched your newly softened depths to their absolute limit, the steady, relentless tempo turning the initial ache into an overwhelming fullness.
“Oh fuck–” you cried, your hand mindlessly reaching out to try to grab at his wrist to stop him, but Yoongi smacked it away before you could.
“Don’t touch me,” he growled, the sharp reprimand cutting right through your haze as his fingers kept up their relentless rhythm inside you. Your hand dropped back onto the cushion, your fingers twitching helplessly against the fabric as the pace he was driving into you completely shattered your defenses. Yoongi didn't look down; his dark eyes stayed locked on your face, watching the way your lips parted and your chest heaved with every deep, sliding stroke of his hand.
The slick stretch of two fingers moving in such a demanding, unbothered tempo was turning your embarrassment into a pure, frantic need. He was stretching you out completely, filling you so thoroughly that every push of his wrist sent a hot wave of pressure straight through your hips, forcing you to take every bit of the pace he set.
The relentless, deep pace he was driving into you was rapidly breaking your body down, forcing a thick moisture to coat his skin. Within moments, the fullness of his two fingers began to pump your arousal out, the glossy wetness overflowing your tight opening until it completely drenched his fingers and smeared across the back of his hand.
Yoongi let out a low, gritty sound at the wet squelch of his movements echoing in the quiet room as his knuckles repeatedly pressed against your drenched entrance. The messy, excessive warmth of your own body coating his hand only seemed to make him get rougher, using your own lubrication to drive his fingers even deeper, thoroughly stretching you out until you were dripping against his skin with every single stroke.
The raven’s dark eyes narrowed as he tracked the erratic shudder of your chest, his fingers still ruthlessly working inside you to draw out every drop of your wetness. The sight of you completely undone, trembling on the verge of a breakdown, stripped away the last of his patience.
He abruptly stopped the rhythm, leaving his fingers buried deep and perfectly still inside your swollen depths. The sudden lack of movement was an absolute tease, leaving you stranded on the very edge of a cliff.
He leaned down until his lips brushed the shell of your ear, his breath hot against your skin as he forced his weight heavily over you.“Tell me you want me to fuck you,” he demanded, his voice a deep command that left no room for hesitation. “Say it.”
A high, dire whine broke from your throat at the sudden agonizing stillness, your hips instinctively jerking upward in a silent, pathetic plea for him to keep moving. The tease was unbearable; your body was wound so incredibly tight, practically begging for the release he was intentionally withholding from you.
Yoongi didn't budge an inch. He simply let out a dark, amused huff against your ear, his fingers remained buried like lead inside your dripping pussy. "I didn't ask for a whine," he rasped, his thumb pressing firmly against your jawline to tilt your head back just enough to look at him. "I asked for words. Tell me you want me to fuck you." He repeated the command.
“I–I… I want you to fuck me.” You stutter out.
"Good girl," he growled the praise against your ear as he finally withdrew his fingers from your drenched warmth.
The sudden emptiness left you cold for only a second before the weight of his front pressed completely over you, pinning you flat into the couch. He didn't waste another moment. His hand reached down between your bodies, guiding his throbbing cock directly against your swollen opening, smearing your own excess wetness along the head.
He didn't ease into it. With one fluid, commanding thrust of his hips, Yoongi buried himself all the way inside of you, driving deep until his pelvis smacked hard against yours.
Your breath cut off completely, a choked scream tearing from your throat as your fingers clawed desperately into the fabric of his shirt. Your gaze, already locked wide onto his, turned instantly glassy as his sheer thickness stretched you open to an impossible limit, filling you so completely it made your head spin.
“Fuck—” The raven grunted, his upper body hovering over you as he went completely rigid, burying his face into the crook of your neck.
He stayed entirely still, his muscles locked as he forced himself to hold back and let your body adjust to his size. The utter stretch of him filling you to the absolute brim made your hips tremble against the cushions, your breath coming in shallow, ragged hitches beneath his heavy frame.
Every muscle in his back was corded with strain, his pulse hammering heavily where his chest pressed against yours. He took a slow, deep breath, waiting out the initial shock of the fit, though the tight, desperate clench of your walls around his cock was clearly pushing his self control over the edge.
The moment the clenching of your walls finally eased into a welcoming squeeze, Yoongi let out a satisfied groan. He didn't give you a second to recover. Pulling back just enough to catch his leverage, he drove his hips forward, initiating a hard, deliberate rhythm that completely altered the gravity of the room. The slow, punishing depth of his first few strokes was consuming; he slid almost entirely out before sinking all the way back in, bottoming out against you with a wet, heavy thud that rattled the breath right out of your lungs.
He growled, his hands locking firmly on your hips to keep you pinned into the cushions as his pace began to quicken. "Your pussy feels so good. Just like I imagined."
The steady, intense heat of his body against yours quickly became a relentless blur as his speed increased. The contact was rougher now, the coarse denim of his jeans and the fabric of his boxers scraping against your inner thighs with every aggressive plunge.
The sound of his skin and denim slapping against you echoed loud in the room, driving home the raw, bruising pace he was establishing. With every powerful thrust, his pelvis collided hard against your hips, the tight fullness stretching you so completely that a series of needy, high pitched moans broke from your throat. Because it was your first time, the sheer magnitude of the sensation was almost too much to process; every single movement sent a wave of sweet ache straight through your body, a deep tightness that was simultaneously agonizing and intoxicating as he broke you in.
Yoongi’s gaze never left your face, his eyes dark and entirely focused as he hovered over you. As his upper body leaned in closer to deepen the angle, the chain around his neck swung free. “God, you’re so pretty.” He breathed out. “The best pussy I’ve ever fucking had.”
“Y-Yoongi…” you moaned, your hands balling up the fabric of his shirt tightly. The raven flashed his gummy smile at the sound of his name rolling off your tongue. It was something he could listen to over and over again.
“Fuck… say my name again.”
"Y-Yoongi!" you cried out again, your voice completely breaking as your eyes fluttered closed, your mind dissolving under the weight of pleasure, until the sudden sharp, stinging sensation of his fingers gently smacked your cheek, snapping your eyes back open.
"Look at me," he commanded, his voice growing incredibly rough and strained as his pace became frantic. "I want you looking at me while I fuck you.” He panted, undoubtedly coming close to his end. You were close as well, feeling an intense feeling build up in your stomach.
"Look at how wet you are for me," he rasped, his dirty talk turning completely unfiltered as he felt the contractions of your walls tightening around him. He drove into you harder, faster. "You're taking every single inch of me."
Your vision blurred at the edges as that coiled heat in your stomach wound tighter and tighter, threatening to snap. Every touch felt magnified a hundred times over because it was him, because it was your first time, and the vulnerability of being completely pinned beneath his weight had your mind spinning out of control.
Yoongi let out a low, breathless laugh, his hips stuttering as the deep squelch of your pussy and his thrusts echoed loudly. "Fuck, look what we did," he groaned, his voice dripping with dark satisfaction as he looked down at where your bodies met. "You completely soaked the couch underneath us, baby. You're dripping all over the cushions for me."
Hearing those words sent a heavy wave of heat straight to your face, a mix of intense shyness and absolute surrender that made you squeeze him even tighter.
"Y-Yoongi, I'm gonna..." you cried out, your fingers letting go of his shirt so you could wrap your arms securely around his neck, pulling him down against you. Your hips bucked up instinctively against his, completely consumed by the pressure. "I'm about to cum..."
His dark eyes flared with desperation, his pace turning completely frantic at your admission. Strands of his damp, raven hair fell completely into his face, clinging to his sweaty forehead and obscuring his vision, but he didn't even try to brush them away as he stared down at you through the dark fringe. He slid his arms beneath your back, wrapping them tightly around you and locking you in an embrace that left no space between your chests.
"Me too, baby, fuck, I'm right there with you," he panted out, his voice entirely undone.
He bottomed out hard, his chest heaving as he stared down at you with completely blown out eyes, caught instantly as the coiled tension in your stomach snapped. “Oh god, fuck!” You scream aloud. An explosive, blinding wave of release crashed through you, your walls clamping down on him in tight, frantic pulses.
"I wanna watch my cum dripping out of this tight little pussy when I'm done with you." Yoongi growled, his grip tightening around you as the muscles in his back locked up, your climax triggering his own.With a final, deep thrust, Yoongi threw his head back, his dark hair tossing wildly away from his face. A loud, guttural groan tore from his throat as he came heavily inside you, his entire frame shuddering violently within your embrace as he poured himself into your tightness, locking you both into the shared, breathless aftershocks of the peak.
The violent shuddering of his body slowly subsided, leaving only the sound of your shared, ragged breathing filling the quiet room. For a long moment, neither of you moved. Yoongi remained buried deep inside you, his heavy frame completely draped over yours, his face buried in the crook of your neck as his chest heaved against your breasts.
The tight grip of his arms around your back gradually softened, his hands now simply resting against the fabric of your dress, tracing comforting circles into your waist through the material. You could feel the rapid thumping of his heartbeat right against your ribs, slowly syncing up with your own.
With a low, exhausted grunt, Yoongi shifted his weight, propping himself up on his forearms to look down at you, careful not to crush you on the narrow cushions. Strands of his damp, raven hair were still stuck to his forehead, framing eyes that were dark, heavy lidded, and utterly soft. The intimidating intensity from moments before was completely gone, replaced by a quiet, protective warmth.
"You okay?" he murmured, his voice incredibly deep from the groans he’d just let out. He raised one hand, his thumb gently brushing against your skin, his touch entirely tender.
“Mhm..” You nod breathlessly, your body feeling liquefied, a pleasant ache settling deep into you.
A slow, satisfied smirk tugged at the corner of his lips as he looked down at where your bodies were still joined beneath the bunched up layers of your dress. True to his word, as he slowly and carefully began to pull himself out of your slick cunt, a thick, white stream of his release mixed with your own, dripping out of you and pooling onto the already damp fabric of the couch cushions beneath your hips.
"Look at that," Yoongi whispered, a low rumble of dark satisfaction vibrating in his chest as he stared at the messy sight. He leaned down, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to your lips, tasting the salt of your skin. “You did so fucking good for your first time, baby." He praises you.
The raven collapsed back down onto you, shifting his legs so they tangled thoroughly with yours on the snug space of the couch. He tucked his face right back into your neck, wrapping his arms securely around your torso to anchor you against his chest. He didn't care about the state of his slid down jeans or the dampness of your dress; he just wanted to hold you against him as the adrenaline finally began to fade and he began to fall asleep.
Your mind was a chaotic tangle of thoughts you couldn't quite straighten out. The reality of what just happened was crashing down in waves. You had just lost your virginity. And it wasn't just to anyone; it was to Yoongi, the last person you ever expected to be in this position with.
But beneath that realization lay the heaviest weight of all; Jungkook.
The thought of his name sent a sharp, confusing pang straight through your chest. You had cheated. The word felt ugly, completely incompatible with the hazy, warm weight of Yoongi resting on top of you, yet it was undeniably there. Did you regret it? The alcohol and smoke clouded your brain too much to give you a straight answer. There was no clarity to be found right now, no easy wave of guilt or sudden rush of justification. There was no going back from this. No fixing it, no pretending it was a mistake born purely out of a messy night. The moment you had agreed to come to Yoongi’s warehouse, the trajectory of everything had shifted.
All you knew for certain, as you stared blankly into the dimly lit room with Yoongi’s heartbeat thumping steady against your ribs, was that everything was about to change.
Theme: established relationship au, almost break up au, angst, misunderstanding.
Summary:
It takes one rumor, one blurry photo of your idol boyfriend with another woman, and a suggestive headline telling the world that he has been seen kissing her - to send your seven year long relationship into jeopardy. As buried insecurities start surfacing, fights start taking over peaceful nights and love turns into a question, will you and Yoongi be able to survive the dark sides of fame or will he have to let you go?
Warnings: fluff, tiny angst - the calm before the storm.
Minors do not interact!
W.C: 1.6k+
A/N: This is a Patreon exclusive series updating every Tuesday. This is a free chapter, the rest of the series will be updated on Patreon only.
P.S: iOS users pay $4.50 while my original sub is $3. You can avoid paying extra by using Patron web version, instead of the application.
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Chapter index: -
Part 1 - Prod. Yoongi
Part 2 - Missed call
Part 3 - A Dilemma
Part 4 - Closed Door
Part 5 - Melted Candles
Part 6 - Overlooked Wounds
Part 7 - Voice Mail
Part 8 - Faucet and Mirror
Part 9 - Melting Ice
Part 10 - An Asymmetric Geometrical Figure
Part 11 - Failed Attempts of Amendments
Part 12: Thousand Questions, Thousand Protests
Part 13: Exponential Growth - Finale
Epilogue
“And the award of the best producer goes to…” the presenter halts his sentence, building anticipation like a wall of dominoes - soon to be kicked down into a pile. He scans the hall as if it’s possible to see the nominees’ faces - the hope and the eventual disappointment as they try their hardest to hide the latter.
“Min Yoongi for Echoes of Summer from Young hearts.” his voice settles like a revolution in the rather tensed air of the arena. The room breaks into thundering applause as soon as the name is announced. The camera changes from the presenter to a specific table within a fraction of seconds.
He stands up - magnificent, glowing, eye-catching in every possible way. The light catches in his pupils, he smiles - subtle but satisfied. Buttoning his suit, he steps out of the table. Hoseok pats on his butt as he does so. The subtle smile of his face threatens to bloom into something more profound but soon, he is managing his face again and walking towards the stage in his natural gait.
“If I am being honest, I really didn’t expect this.” Yoongi’s voice spills over the speakers as he starts his speech - the award tight in his grip. “Echoes of summer being my first ever OST project, I was rather worried about how it would turn out. But thanks to my members’ continuous support, the love of my fans and the hard work of my staff - things went unexpectedly well. But still - the title of the best producer was an unthinkable achievement. Thank you to everyone who voted, who listened and who loved.” he bows down, completing his speech. The arena erupts into thunderous applause yet again, as if officiating his claims into a recognition.
The glow from the tv hurts your eyes - but you blink the pain away somehow. As your eyes settle on the tv again, a dull thud starts bubbling on the surface of your heart.
The same painful question - the same wait that never ends.
You know how stressful it was for Yoongi to produce that OST. sleepless nights, caffeine overload, back pain from sleeping on the studio couch - he has been through everything that makes him a genius producer and also a workaholic. And you have been there beside him, trying to take care of his basic needs, as much as he lets you to.
You have been there - alongside the members, the fans, the staff. But you are never mentioned, not because he doesn’t value your companionship but because his hands are tied.
It’s like the same damn story that starts with the same damn sentence, ‘dating a celebrity is tough…’ yada yada. Yes, dating an idol with world class recognition is definitely tough, you need to stay extra cautious, but it’s not overwhelming, it’s not heartbreaking, although sad at times like this when you know Yoongi wants to take your name and let the world know about you, but it’s all fine - because it’s Yoongi.
Because Yoongi would come back home to you at the end of the day, because Yoongi is not a celebrity with you - he is just a guy with a gummy smile and a heart full of love for you.
Because Yoongi loves you just as much you love him without any cracks, any loopholes, any breakage that threatens otherwise.
It’s the sigh that you hear first as always. The sigh that resonates a long day. The sound of throwing shoes out of the tired feet follows closely enough and then his voice, “I’m home.”
A smile makes its way to your lips, “welcome home.” the reply flies out of your mouth as an old habit.
Yoongi makes a beeline for the kitchen where you are in the process of heating up dinner. His feet are quiet against the floor but you can feel him right behind you even before his forehead touches your shoulder blade.
“I’m exhausted.” His voice is made more of breath than of sound.
“You have done a great job, jagi.” your hand reaches for his head, patting on it delicately. As if to ground himself more and more, he latches his hands around your waist and presses himself on your back.
“You watched?”
“Of course I did.”
“There’s someone I couldn’t thank during my solo acceptance speech.” his voice is muffled on your skin but you can hear the regret loud and clear.
“Really? Whom?” but you choose to tease anyway.
Yoongi stands straight before turning you towards him. You look at him, for the first time in two days. The lines of exhaustion are clear in his face, but he looks handsome regardless.
With the hands still on your waist, he pulls you closer to him. You wrap your arms around his neck and look deep into his dark eyes - all you see there is love and love and love.
“You. I couldn’t thank you and I am sorry.”
“You know you didn’t need to, right? I know everything.” tiptoeing to reach him, you place a peck on his lips, he pecks you back.
And this is why your heart never settles into a continuous rhythm of pain - because Yoongi is yours and he always makes sure to come back to you, to make you feel seen, to let you know that you are acknowledged even though he can not let the world know about you yet.
You know there will be a day, soon maybe, maybe not, when the world gets to know about existence in his life. But before that happens, this secrecy is fine. As long as Yoongi keeps coming back to you, you have nothing to complain about.
You love him, he loves you and that hasn’t changed for the last seven years. You are confident enough to assure yourself that it’s not going to change anytime soon either.
“You know that I love you, right?” Yoongi asks right when the night starts darkening. Even in the dark bedroom you can make out the lines of his face, his eyes, his nose, his lips.
“I know that very well.” you assure him, snuggling your head in his chest. And this is enough, this is more than enough for you.
As long as Yoongi is yours, everything is fine.
“They keep asking me to start producing more.” Yoongi whines, leaning against the backrest of the couch - a week later, “for other artists."
“And?” you know something has been bugging him if he is not jumping on the new production projects right away.
“I don’t want to give my music to subpar people, especially the ones who can’t even decipher the depth of it.” he sighs for the third time in ten minutes.
“Then test them before you produce for them?” Your reply is casual and without much thought.
“What do you mean?” but it piques your boyfriend’s attention.
“I mean, we taste the student’s abilities before deciding their score, right? Through tests and projects and other stuff. You can do the same. Maybe listen to their demos and WIPs and decide accordingly.” The solution comes from your experience as a professor. Although you don’t know how much your suggestion will be applicable in a profession so vastly different from yours.
“That is actually a good idea. A very good idea.” Yoongi’s voice fades behind the wall of his thoughts, “you are a genius, baby!”
“So are you, Mr. Hands of Midas!” you place a kiss on his cheeks, he returns the courtesy with an earth-shattering kiss on your lips.
“I found one!” Yoongi almost screams. Unlike other times, you don’t hear his sigh - it’s his voice that startles you, prompting you to mess up the measurement of Tangie’s food.
“What?” you turn your head to witness the excitement you heard in his voice a moment ago.
“A real real artist.” his eyes are glowing, his cheeks are pink, hair is a bit messed up from his he pulled away his beanie earlier.
“Really? Within two weeks?” your eyes widen. You didn’t expect his search to come to a conclusion so soon.
“I told the company not to bring in any proposals without demos or WIPs. Last week they mailed me a bunch of demos. Most of those were fine but one stood out.” Yoongi is seldom this excited. It makes you warm from inside to find him so thrilled about something after a long time.
“Tell me about it.” you give him your full attention.
“Oh Y/N! This artist is a genius. She produced a full length melody herself and is now in the process of writing the lyrics. The melody is kind of melancholic and even without any words to it, it’s perfectly capable of scratching all the right places. I decided to produce one track for her upcoming album. It’s been so long since I came across someone this talented from this generation of idols.”
You didn’t even notice when you started smiling ear to ear, “I am so happy you found what you were looking for. What’s her name?”
“Stage name Elara Moon and real name Moon Goeun. She is pretty famous. One of her songs is even viral in tiktok and insta these days, as I have heard.”
“Sounds nice, baby.” Giving Yoongi’s hand a squeeze, you walk out of the kitchen to feed Tang.
If there’s a small twist in your heart hearing Yoongi praising someone else, then that’s negligible. You know it’s temporary - it will go away with time.
Except you don’t know yet that this is just the beginning of a path that’s filled with thrones, and you will have to walk through it with barely any sight of the destination.
⟶ Summary | He is the heir to a powerful business empire. You are the daughter of a rival legacy just as formidable. When his brother’s past mistake threatens everything that he and his family have built with their blood, sweat, and tears, he is given one chance to hold onto his future—and you become his only way out.
A marriage arranged on paper. A deal meant to keep the peace. A molded appearance to show his worth. It should have been simple. But beneath the surface, not everything is as it seems. Because the secret of the heart wouldn’t be the only thing you are about to uncover.
⟶ Title | Carousel: 2025 version
⟶ Character | Yoongi x reader
⟶ Genre | CEO!Yoongi, Arranged Marriage!AU, Heirs!AU, Organized Crime!AU
⟶ Ratings & Warning | +18 / M for Mature; including: mutual pining, childhood friends turn business partners turn lovers, minor character death, grief, mention of family drama, may contain incorrect terms in matters involving business and law, graphic depiction of car accidents, alcohol consumption, mentions of pregnancy and miscarriages, usage of weapons (guns, knives, etc), mention of family drama, depiction of trauma, involves multiple explicit sex scenes, including: sexual tension, soft dom!Yoongi, lots of sex/dirty talk, more warnings will be added as I continue writing this.
⟶ Author's Note | I know that a lot of you have been here before. This is one of my oldest stories that I’ve ever published since writing fanfiction for BTS and especially Yoongi, and one that I am most proud of. This rewriting project has been planned for ages, so if you have previously read this story, you might notice some changes in the writing style, plot, and story details, but I’m hoping that you’ll have an even better experience reading this story again in its upgraded version. For new readers, welcome to my story! I hope you’ll enjoy the ride.
— status / current word count / total word count | ONGOING; latest update: Chapter 27 | Park Jinyoung 02 - 157,651 words of n/a words
⟶ main masterlist | mailbox | feedback | ko-fi | patreon | series taglist
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In the Margins (a s f) by @bonvoyagenoona
⊹₊⋆ You weren’t sure what he would look like. His writing made you think of a cabin nestled among tall pines, a well-worn cardigan, a scotch neat, and a wistful wisp of smoke seeping into the air from the bowl of an unattended tobacco pipe. What stands before you now is a studio apartment in the city, cigarette butts, coffee stains, and a scowl. There’s definitely been a mistake.
Fix You (f a) by @casuallyimagining
⊹₊⋆ When you take in a stray cat, you have no idea he’s secretly a hybrid trying to escape his past. Can you help him heal?
desolate (a f s) by @angelicyoongie
⊹₊⋆ you just wanted a cute little normal cat to keep you company. so you're not really sure how you ended up with the grumpiest hybrid on earth that seems hellbent on making your life difficult.
One Shots
Set Me Free (a f) by @casuallyimagining
⊹₊⋆ Tired of being told how to live his life and unsure of where he stands in the world, Yoongi--your soulmate--yearns to be free. When you give him what he wants, it causes a rift in your relationship that seems irreparable. 12 years later, you find him back in your life. Can you mend your relationship? Do you even want to?
back-burner (a f s) by @yoonpobs
⊹₊⋆ sometimes you felt like you were the back-burner of a two-decade-long friendship. how could you ever compete?
Love Language (a s f) by @gukslut
⊹₊⋆ Your boyfriend obviously loves you, but his silence has you questioning if he *wants* you. If you could only get past your damn insecurities maybe you could appreciate what you have.
27 Phone Numbers (f) by @bxebxee
⊹₊⋆ Yoongi has gone through twenty-seven phone numbers over the last ten years, and you haven’t changed yours since high school.
sweetner (f s) by @taegularities
⊹₊⋆ You used to know how he sounded when you were wrapped around him, but circumstances have pulled you apart and sent you scattering in opposite directions. Feelings shouldn't reappear so easily by simple words, but when you find yourselves in the same place once again, this is exactly what happens.
One Chance (f) by @out-of-jams
⊹₊⋆ A musical genius, a guy with a bad reputation, your assigned partner for your final project. And the last thing you ever would have expected.
Seasons Change (a s) by @taetaesbaebaepsae
⊹₊⋆ Min Yoongi and you, through the seasons, break up and come back together. Nobody said love was easy.
All That Holly, Jolly Sh*t (a f s) by @daechwitatamic
⊹₊⋆ You haven’t seen or heard from Yoongi since he broke your heart five years ago, laying out a logical list of reasons why you were better off breaking up. When a Christmas Eve blizzard traps you together for the night, you have no choice but to examine how few of those reasons are still true. And if they’re not… where does that leave you?
Now We Reign (a s f) by @oddinary4bts
⊹₊⋆ when working on a collab together makes you and Min Yoongi seek comfort with the other, you discover there’s more to life than loneliness. Only, hurdles mark your path in Min Yoongi’s life, and it’s unclear what the outcome will be. Will you be destroyed by him and his world, or will you learn to reign over it, together with him?
take five (a f) by @jiminrings
⊹₊⋆ you're min yoongi's nurse and you have a crush on him, and he gives you five chances to ask him out - he never said anything about accepting though.
The Final - Day 02 (s) by @yoongiofmine
⊹₊⋆ You've been Yoongi's go-to companion for the past few years, well aware that's all you were going to be. Despite your very real, growing feelings for the rapper, you took what you could get every time. Now, you're backstage at day two of the final leg of his tour when another member takes an interest in you. Will it be enough to make Yoongi realize he's got competition?
hello soulmate (f) by @bluemari23
⊹₊⋆ your first day on the job doesn't turn out the exact way you envisioned
Sugar Rush Ride (s) by @lo1k-diamonds
⊹₊⋆ You produced a song based on your hidden desires for your fellow producer and promised yourself that tonight, things would change. You were done pining after him, but then he arrived at the listening party.
fuck being friends (a f s) by @strawberrynamjoon
⊹₊⋆ as if watching the guy you were hopelessly in love with hook up with another girl each weekend wasn’t enough, he also happened to be your best friend, making things extra complicated. and it only gets worse and worse once he finds you crying in the bathroom at a party one night.
Take One (s f) by @untaemedqueen
⊹₊⋆ There are three things which Yoongi was certain of. One, he was a big star in his field of work. Two, he had a huge cock, one to rival many of the largest names in his industry. Three, he can only find pleasure these days in written word.
Illicit Favors (f s) by @yoongiofmine
⊹₊⋆ When your editor tells you to re-write the chapters of your book because the sex scenes are weak, suggesting you write them from experience, what do you do when you lack any kind of sexual experiences in general? You go to your friend and ask him for help with it.
Bet On It (s) by @minisugakoobies
⊹₊⋆ What's a little wager between enemies? How about if it's your body on the line?
subscribed (s f) by @aquagustd
⊹₊⋆ you find out that youtube isn’t the only site he uses to satisfy his subscribers. what do you do with that information?
a/n: I've been really down the past couple of days and it turns out it inspire me to finish this story (I've been keeping it on my drafts for months T_T) Also, did you catch that ot7 live??? cus I'm still crying 😭😭😭
“You’re calling it off? Just like that?!”
The taste of the apple that you just bit was suddenly bitter in your mouth. It was a quiet Monday night when you were enjoying your alone time, eating fruits and reading e-books through your tablet. You knew your fiancé was going to come home around this hour. You just did not expect the news he brought along with him.
It had been a little under a year since both of you decided to live together. You moved soon right after he proposed to you, but his schedule being so full, he was barely even home.
It was just a blessing and a curse at the same time, him being an idol. While the group activities had slowed down recently, with the other members focusing on solo projects outside of BTS, Yoongi had only gotten busier. Just a few months after your engagement he got to finally establish his own record label. Of course you couldn’t be more happier for him, but higher position also came with higher responsibilities.
The investor meetings, press conferences, artist assessments, and your man being Suga from BTS himself, still had some idol duties on the sides.
But you were used to it. You were used to him being booked and busy. You had loved him for the longest time to understand that as much as you hated being far apart from him, you equally loved seeing him in his element, making music, putting smiles on millions of people’s faces. Because Yoongi’s happiness was yours too after all.
So it was a shocking, humiliating even, for him to just come and said the vile statement he just said to you. He just got back from two weeks of his abroad job, and he chose to bring this news to you as a present.
“I just think with how things are, I don’t have time for you. This is clearly hurting both of us so it’s better this way.” He said, expression blank and it was hard to read.
“Yoongi, I’ve dated you for three years before getting engaged to you. I know your schedules and I’m used to it.”
“It’ll be different when we are married.”
“It won’t.” You argued.
“It will.” He sighed. “It will only get worse when we get married.”
“You do realize you get breaks and day offs, right? I can wait.”
“I own a company now.”
You looked at him to see his expression. It was still blank as he stood in front of you. Sometimes you hated how stoic he could be, especially when he wanted to. It was breaking you, but you chose to remain collected.
“If that’s your priority, then I get it.”
You stood up from your seat with a big sigh. You saw his pupil moved in a frantic way for a second, before going back to normal.
“I’ll move, you can have the—“
“One week.” You said, looking at him straight in the eye.
He looked at you, stopping his sentence.
“Treat me like yours again for a week before you let me go.” You folded your arms. “After that you can leave and we’ll be on our separate ways.”
Yoongi’s mouth opened, before it quickly closed to a stretched straight line. He looked like he was about to say something but he chose not to. He nodded his head at you, sighing.
“Okay.” Was all he said to you.
You took one last look at him before walking away, heading to the bedroom. You wondered if you could catch any sleep that night.
When moonlight came Yoongi chose to sleep next to you, after all, that was what you had asked him to do. To treat you like his again, even just for the week. You had some hours alone with your mind, you had some thoughts of how you would act when he slip into the covers with you, but when it happened you really didn’t know what to say. For some time he only laid there, unmoved, and you started to wonder if he just fell asleep like that.
You knew you had told him to do so, but it still didn’t hide the pain you were feeling when he slowly moved closer and hugged you from behind. He knew you were not asleep, of course he did. He always did. He didn’t say anything, just resting his forehead on your head, one hand over your waist to hold you close. You could feel his heartbeat and without knowing, the tears just started flowing on its own. You bit your lips, in hope that he wouldn’t notice, but then his thumb started to draw circles on your forearm. Maybe he noticed, maybe he did not. He chose to not comment about it though, which you were glad. That was why you chose not to say anything either when you felt your shoulder damp, some water droplets fell on your hair and onto your skin.
DAY 1
The next morning you were awaken by noises coming from the kitchen. You thought he would be up in his studio at this hour, him being a light sleeper and all, but it seemed like he was cooking something at eight in the morning, judging by the delicious smell. You quickly brushed your teeth and head out to check on him.
“Are you cooking?” You asked, slowly approaching him in the kitchen.
“Yeah.” He said as he stir the rice on the wok.
You looked at him, giving him a funny look.
“What?” He raised one of his eyebrows before turning up the stove’s heat, adding some minced meat on what seemed to be fried rice.
“Nothing, it’s just that you don’t usually cook so early in the morning.” You said, retreating back and took a seat on the dining chair. You sighed, figuring it was just his acts for the week.
“I haven’t cooked for you in a while.” He said, still string the food. “I also thought you would be up a little later.“
“I smelt the food, plus it was odd to find you in the kitchen at this hour instead of in your studio.”
“You could, you know… sleep some more. If you want to.” He said with his back facing you as he cooked.
“I’d rather watch you cook.” You smiled, even though he couldn’t see.
Soon he came to the dining table with two plates in his hands, one that he placed in front of you, and one for himself. The smell of the food filled the room and you started to salivate. It was just a simple dish but knowing who cooked for you made it different. Yoongi went back to grab two glasses of water for both of you, before finally sitting down across of you.
You were a tad bit anxious seeing the piercing look on his eyes, waiting for you to take a bite. And when you did, he immediately wanted a feedback.
“So?”
“I like it. Has the right amount of spiciness.” You said with food still in your mouth. “You should cook this more often.”
Your expression dropped when you realized that your request was soon about to be impossible, given the situation. Quickly, you looked down, choosing to focus on eating instead.
“Glad you like it.”
You ate in silence after that, the kind of quiet that wasn’t as sharp as before. There was still pain between you, but it had been placed in the corner for now, like a box no one wanted to open just yet.
When he stood to rinse his plate, you said without looking up, “Do you remember the first time we made breakfast together?”
He paused at the sink. “You tried to make pancakes but used salt instead of sugar.”
“And you still ate them like an idiot.”
“I was trying to impress you.”
“By eating salted cement?” You asked with an amused smile.
He grinned too. For a moment, the version of Yoongi you missed most stood there in front of you. Not the artist with the world on his shoulders. Just a man who once came to your apartment with multiple packets of different sizes of pads because he got too shy to ask which would be the appropriate one.
You watched him dry his hands, eyes focused on the towel. Something in his jaw tightened.
“Right.” You bit your inner cheek, trying to compose yourself. “How’s Namjoon by the way? I miss his little kid.” You started another topic, to drift away.
“His son is doing fine and so is he.” He said and started eating as well. “I think his wife is expecting another…”
“Really?! Wow, look at him… And to think he told us he didn’t want any children before…” You chuckled. “That guy is whipped. I’m happy for him.”
Yoongi looked at you and smiled. “Yeah.”
You and Yoongi had never mentioned anything about wanting kids in your life. The topic just somehow never came up. You used to want children in your family, but lately with how things with your work and Yoongi’s schedules, you figured it would be too much. Plus, you always had fear of change, and the idea of pregnancy scared you just a bit. But you had never heard anything from Yoongi if he wanted any or not. It would be too late to ask anyway.
“Have you ever thought of having kids?”
You almost choked on clear water. “I’m sorry?”
“We never really talked about it before…” He rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly.
“Do you?” You shot the question back at him.
“I never really thought about it but, I’ve always thought that I want whatever you want.”
Clearly not. You thought to yourself. “I… I used to want it. But seeing how busy both of us can be sometimes, I don’t think it’s possible. There’s enough people in this world anyway, we don’t need any mini me around.” You giggled.
“A mini you sounds adorable.” His smile quickly faded when he seemed to realize his words.
“I don’t think so. Kinda not possible with how we are now after all…” You gave a sad smile.
“I—”
“No, let’s not talk about it.” You heaved a sigh and gave him another smile, even though you started to feel your eyes getting teary.
The rest of the day was spent with the two of you just watching your old favorite movies together. You didn’t cuddle, but both of you rested your heads on each other and it was enough comfort for you.
DAY 2
This time when you woke up, Yoongi was still asleep. Movie marathoning was fun until it was four in the morning and both of you overslept on the couch. You found Yoongi sleeping, head resting on your lap, and the urge to run your finger through his hair was high, but you didn’t want to risk waking him up in the process. He looked so calm, and you missed just seeing him like this. He always looked like a cat, especially when he was asleep. He would even sometimes let out noises that sounded like a purr.
You let yourself sleep more, maybe another ten minutes.
The sound of the phone ringing could be heard from the table, Yoongi’s ringing and vibrating on it. He took the call and sounded like he was never asleep. Sometimes you wonder how he could behave so inhumane like that.
He looked up when he noticed you staring. “What is it?”
You hesitated. “Let’s go out after your call.”
“Out? Don’t you have meeting today?”
“I’ve taken the week off.” You simply said.
Yoongi hesitated for a moment, before speaking. “Where to?”
“The bookstore cafe. The one near the station. Remember? That place… we haven’t been there in a while.” You fidgeted with your fingers. “We used to go all the time.”
He didn’t answer right away, and you wondered if he’d say no. Maybe the week you asked for was already too heavy for him. But he just nodded.
“Yeah. Okay. After the call.”
The cafe was exactly the same. It smelled like spiced tea and old pages, the lighting was still dim in that warm, cozy way, and the bookstore shelves remained haphazard and charmingly messy. There was a new girl behind the counter, but the man who used to run the place, Mr. Han, was still stood in his usual spot by the register, glasses perched halfway down his nose.
“Well, well! Look who crawled back from the dead…” Mr. Han said with a teasing smile.
You laughed. “Don’t say that, you’ll scare the tourists.”
Yoongi offered a polite smile, stuffing his hands in his coat pockets. “Sorry we disappeared.”
“You two were the royalty of table six.” Mr. Han said, nodding toward the back. “You left a hole when you stopped coming.”
That made Yoongi pause. You tugged him by the sleeve toward your old booth before he could slip into guilt.
The booth was still tucked into the corner, the cushions worn and soft from years of use. It had seen a lot. Your first real conversation after weeks of quiet flirting, being in all masks and hoodies, your first fight over miscommunication and missed texts, Yoongi’s confession on an evening when he looked terrified and brave all at once, to when you could finally date in normal attire after deciding to publicize your relationship.
You slid into the seat and glanced across at him. “Do you remember that night you asked me if I’d be your emergency contact?”
He snorted. “I remember the shock in your face.”
“You asked me if I want to be the first one to get called if you die… with the straightest face.” You argued.
“You still said yes.”
You shrugged, smiling as you looked to the ceiling. “I was so in love with you.”
He flinched. It wasn’t visible, not really. But you knew Yoongi too well. You knew how his eyes darted slightly when something hit too close, how his fingers tightened a fraction against the cup of coffee he had in his grasp. You didn’t push.
You looked out the window and said, “We had some good memories here.”
“Yeah.” Was all he replied back.
You spent two hours there, talking mostly about books you never had time to read and music he’d been working on. You showed him a ridiculous meme on your phone, and he actually laughed. He laughed like he used to. The wall between you cracked just slightly.
When it was time to go, you thanked Mr. Han and waved goodbye. Outside, the wind bit at your cheeks, and you tucked your hands into your coat pockets. Yoongi hesitated beside you.
“You looked really happy in there.” He said, his voice soft.
“Because I was.”
He glanced over. “It’s been a while since I saw you like that.”
You met his eyes. “That’s what happens when you disappear into work.”
He didn’t defend himself and just nodded quietly. But he didn’t walk away either. He walked with you to the car, his shoulder brushing yours the entire way.
At night before you head to bed, he pulled you gently and placed the lightest kiss on your temple. It could be just you but you saw a glimmer of hope in him. Or it could be the agreement playing the part.
DAY 3
You were awoken by Yoongi’s eyes staring at you. He greeted you with a warm smile, uttering a good morning to you. You smiled back, scooting closer in his embrace, salivating the moment.
This was how a normal morning goes for you, at least when he was home. Sure you would always miss him when he went away for his concerts, tour, or any other job that required him to be not home, but every time he came back, the feelings would always just reset. It was so easy, so effortless, to forget when you see his face and feeling him close to you again. He made it easy.
“Any plans today?” He asked, resting his chin on top of your head, embracing you still.
“This,” You smiled with your eyes closed. “This is the plan.”
“As much as I’d love that, we gotta eat something.” He chuckled.
“Nope.” You giggled.
You ended up snuggling and sleeping in for the next two hours and a half, until you heard your own stomach rumbled.
The day was supposed to be a slow day with little to no work to do. Yoongi had some songs that needed quick revision, but nothing he couldn’t do at the comfort of his home studio.
You decided to bring him some coffee to his studio. There he was leaning back on his chair with his headphones on, bopping his head a few times to the beat that was unheard.
“Yoongi?” You called upon entering the room. He didn’t seem to notice you until you placed the cup of coffee on his table.
“Oh, thanks.” He said after removing his left earpiece and took a sip of the beverage. “Just a few tuning and I’ll be done.”
“Take your time.” You said, taking a chair next to him. “I hope I’m not interrupting?”
“Never.” He said without meeting your gaze as his eyes went back to the monitor screen.
You gulped, suddenly feeling a bit tensed and leaned against the seat.
“Do you wanna listen?”
“Oh?” You were taken aback. “It’s done already?”
“It’s just the instrumental. Jungkook will sing the song.” He said after clicking some buttons.
“What’s the title?” You rested your hand on top of the table.
“Haven’t really decided on it but…” He stopped and removed his earphones entirely. “Here, let me show you the lyrics.” He handed you his notebook.
You skimmed through the lyrics and wondered to yourself. Since when did Yoongi learn to write corny and cheesy love song? And the more you read through it, the description, the tiny mentioned details, it sounded like he was so smitten that he had to pour his entire feelings out on this song. Mind you this was the same guy who wrote and performed Daechwita.
“You’re telling me you wrote this?!” You said while still re-reading the lyrics.
“What’s with the judgmental look?” He looked at you in disbelief.
“It’s just— Yah, have you ever even fell in love like this?! This doesn’t sound like you.” You frowned.
“I wrote this years ago.” He smiled, taking another sip of the coffee you made him. “This was way before we were even a thing.”
Your expression turned sour. “So it’s about an ex?”
“Silly, it’s about you.”
Your eyes widened in surprise. “It’s about me?!”
He puffed a breath and smiled, showing his gummy grin. “It clearly said, you looked through me beyond the glamour.” He pointed at the notebook that was still in your hands. “You were quite literally our makeup artist’s assistant for two years.”
It was true. You used to work under Big Hit for a while until you decided to resign. You and your friends took a huge risk and decided to start your own private brand, and so you needed to step back from the company.
The job was how you met Yoongi and the rest of the boys. Somehow you would often get assigned to do his makeup. Yoongi was rather quiet the first few gigs, but judging by the cold exterior you thought he’d be rude, but he ended up being the sweetest man you had ever known. Second to Jimin of course because that man’s an angel.
It was that one time you accidentally dropped a bottle of foundation on the floor. You just started the job, barely four weeks into it, and you already did something so fatal. You arrived early and there wasn’t anyone in the room, but the sound of the breaking glass was loud enough. The door soon opened and you were expecting it to be the head makeup artist, but much to your surprise, it was Yoongi who peeked through the door, asking about your well being.
You were lost for words as your vision only went back and forth from your hands to the shattered glasses and the complexion colored mess on the floor. Seeing your shocked state, Yoongi calmly called the cleaners and told you to take a seat. There were multiple apologies and thank yous came out from your mouth before he just took out his phone from his pocket. He tapped on the screen and browsed through his apps before handing the phone to you, shocking you even more.
“Here, just order the same one, the instant delivery is quite fast.”
You were begging to pay him back, but Yoongi was a man of his words, so he kept resisting. One day you just showed up at the set and got him iced americano to show your gratitude, even though you knew the price tag wasn’t equal. And the rest was history.
“Didn’t know you were into me like that.” Even though you were rolling your eyes, your cheeks couldn’t hide the pinkish glow.
“I thought I told you that I basically had a huge crush on you when we first met.” He snickered.
“You did, I just didn’t expect the romantic song…” You tried to avoid his gaze.
“Come on, you genuinely think I would just buy you a bottle of overpriced makeup if I don’t have any ulterior motive?! Money was tight at that time, you know!” He laughed.
You couldn’t help but to laugh as well. “To think that I fell for the sweet guy who helped me. Turns out he had malicious intent.”
“In my defense I would still help you nonetheless. I’d probably cover for you and makeup some bullshit. But the whole buying a new bottle was a smart way to get our connection going.” He proudly smirked.
“We were so dumb back then, huh?”
“I guess so.” He shook his head and smiled.
“But I don’t regret a thing.”
You said without thinking. You watched as the sparkle on Yoongi’s eyes went off and he quickly turned back to his computer screen.
You spent that night looking at his back facing you, wondering if he ever regretted meeting you.
DAY 4
You woke up with your bed empty. It wasn’t something that was new to you, in fact, you knew exactly where he was.
This time when you found him in his studio, a low tune was playing. He turned his chair to your direction instantly upon hearing the door creaking open.
You peeked with a tea in hand. “Were you up all night?”
“Only been here since five.”
You carefully took a seat next to him, studying his facial features. He seemed distressed, you could clearly see the creases forming on his forehead.
“What’s bothering you?” You asked.
“You said we’d treat each other like before, right?”
Your eyes widened, but you remained calm. “Yeah?”
“Then let’s play music and just sit with me.”
At first you didn’t think too much about the song choices he made. Sure you had listened to them but so what, you were aware that both of you had similar taste in music. But by the time the third song played, your heart clenched. It was your playlist. The one he’d made for your third anniversary.
When “free love” by HONNE started playing, you knew it was over for you. You could recall exactly when the song started playing, and Yoongi had a bouquet of peonies in his hands, walking sheepishly to you in your old apartment. He had never gotten you any flowers before. You just couldn’t see the appeal in buying impractical things when there were many more ways to show love. Everyone who had ever dated you were made aware of that. But one day you randomly mentioned that you sometimes wondered how would it feel to receive flowers romantically. Hence, why he did it.
You remembered how it was awkward at first, both of you bursted into laughter for a good minute, before you took the flowers from his hands, and took his lips in yours.
You turned to look at him, surprised. “Is this our…”
His eyes stayed on the screen. “Yeah.”
“I didn’t know you still had it.”
“I never deleted it.” He leaned back on his seat. “It’s a nice playlist to come back to when I’m stressed.”
You didn’t know what to say to that so you didn’t say anything. Instead, you stood up and moved to the center of the studio room. Yoongi watched you with confusion in his eyes.
Then you held your hand out. “Dance with me.”
“Are you serious?!”
“Very.”
He raised an eyebrow. A small smirk appeared on his lips. “You know you suck at dancing.”
“You see women who dance well all the time, I’m seasoned differently.” You giggled.
That made him laugh. A real one. The kind that showed his gums a little, made his eyes crease at the corners. You hadn’t seen that laugh in months.
He did take your hand.
You danced barefoot in the studio, swaying slowly across the carpet as if time hadn’t moved at all. Your fingers curled in his shirt. His hand rested on your lower back, warm and familiar. It wasn’t romantic, not fully. But it was close. Too close.
I can't get you all that stuff
But I can give you all my love
Free love
Are the simple things enough?
I got to give you all my love
Free love
When the song ended, neither of you let go right away. And when you looked up at him, he was already looking down at you.
“Do you ever miss us?” You asked without giving further thought.
His breath caught. For a moment, he looked like he wanted to say something. Like the words were right there, sitting behind his teeth, waiting to be let go.
“Let’s not talk about missing things today.”
You nodded slowly, expression turning cold. “Okay.”
You stepped back, but your fingers lingered on his. He let them go last.
Soon he went back to his chair, eyes glued back to the multiple screens in front of him. You sat there in silence, not wanting to bother him but reluctant to leave. Your tea halfway empty, now cold, sitting on the desk.
There was an opened notebook on the far left corner of his table. With some torn pages stuck in the middle, some looked crumpled and had torn edges. Some crossed-out lines, lyrics with arrows leading to new ones, some even scratched out entirely.
Your eyes fell on a section dated not many weeks ago.
Daydreams don’t have deadlines.
But love does, doesn’t it?
How long can she wait before she stops?
Your whole body froze after you read the words.
“I wasn’t going to use those lyrics.” He suddenly said, noticing where your attention was.
“Is this about… us?” You asked with a cracked voice.
Yoongi heaved a big sigh. “I didn’t know how to let you see me break.”
“You thought I can’t handle it?” You asked, feeling offended.
“I couldn’t handle you seeing it.”
“That’s selfish.”
“I know.”
A beat passed.
“Did you write that song for me? Or for you?”
“Both.” He simply said.
Out of the blue, your phone buzzed in your pocket. You got a text from Namjoon’s wife, Jieun, asking if you were free for the day.
Retreating from your seat, you told Yoongi about it and left him be in his studio. After giving her a call you found out that she wanted you to join her picking some baby clothes with her. Said because this time she was having a girl, maybe she needed help from you, with your background in stylist and all. Most importantly, she just wanted to catch up with you.
“Do you think we got too much pink items for her?” Jieun said as she picked another pink baby dress.
“There’s no such thing as too much pink.” You said, humoring the lady.
“It’s a bit stereotype-y though…” The mother frowned.
“We could get some purple stuff too, her daddy is a Bangtan member after all…” You giggled.
“With that logic, if you and Yoongi ever decide to have one, you should buy purple clothes for them as well.” She laughed.
Your expression dropped gradually as you heard her words. You laughed away in hope she wouldn’t notice, but it seemed that it was already too late.
“I’m sorry, was that a sensitive topic?” She asked with a worried look.
“No, don’t worry.” You smiled, assuring her.
“Your expression dropped when I mentioned that.” She walked closer to you. “Is everything alright? You could always tell me.”
You shook your head, sighing. “Things aren’t doing well between me and Yoongi…” You said as you took a seat on a random bench at the mall.
Jieun gasped, immediately taking the seat next to you. “What happened?”
“He wants to call off our engagement. It was just so… sudden??? He literally just came back from being away for weeks, and he came back just to tell me that?” The tone of your voice hitched. “Even told me that he’s gonna move out from our house… I… I don’t understand…” You looked down, tears started to form in your eyes.
Jieun rubbed your shoulder, feeling herself getting teary as well. She hugged you. “Have you guys talk through it?”
“We have, and his only reason was because he thinks he’s too busy and it’s just gonna hurt both of us in the long run.” You sighed. “I told him that I’m already used to him being busy. I think I’ve told you before that even though I miss him, it’s always worth it the second I get to see his face again.” You bit your lips, trying to muffle a cry. “All he said was that he got a company now, which I can’t argue. So, I ended up agreeing…”
“Goodness… So that’s it? He’s just gonna leave???”
“I told him I want him to treat me normally and toss our problems aside for a week before leaving me.” You shrugged, mustering a grin even though you had tears rolling down your cheeks. “It’s what I came up impulsively…”
“I can’t believe Yoongi just decided it like that. I thought he was a rational person… You guys have been together for years, for heavens sake!” She said with anger. “When is he leaving?”
“I don’t know exactly, we haven’t really talked about it but our agreement’s supposed to end in three days…”
“You should definitely try to talk to him about this again. It doesn’t sound like him to just decide things recklessly like that.”
“I don’t know… he seems pretty content with his choice and I don’t think I can change his mind.”
“You have to at least try, but if he still won’t budge, screw him. He doesn’t deserve you then.” She then gave you a hug again, caressing your back.
You let a few more tears flee as you hugged her back.
On your way home you got a call from Yoongi, telling you there was an urgent meeting he had to attend.
You spent the night alone again.
DAY 5
By the time you woke up Yoongi was already up eating a toast with a coffee on his hand. You didn’t know when he got back or if he even slept in the night before, but you weren’t opposed to see him nonetheless.
He fixed you a tea, added the right amount of honey, and asked if you wanted the same toast like he had.
He seemed… calm.
“What do you have on your schedule today?” You asked.
He glanced at his phone, then shrugged. “Nothing urgent. I’ve moved some things.”
That surprised you. He never moved things. Not for anyone. Not unless it was extremely crucial.
You stared. “Why?”
“You asked me for the week.” Yoongi looked up, brow furrowed. “What do you want to do today?”
You swallowed a big lump. “I want to spend today with you.”
You ended up in the park. It was the one near your old apartment before you moved into the bigger penthouse. Before tour dates. Before investors and board meetings and five day vanishing acts. Just the park with the willow tree you liked to sit under. The one where you had your first big fight but shared a kiss right after.
You brought boba tea. He brought a notebook. You sat beneath the willow and slurped the drink in silence, watching as Yoongi occasionally scribbled something down in that same black notebook from the studio.
“I thought you said you’ve moved things, but you’re writing lyrics?” You asked as you leaned closer to sneak a peek.
“It’s nothing, I’m just scared that I’ll forget this…” He said, turning another page. “And I don’t want to.”
The wind rustled the tree above you, and you watched the way sunlight flickered between the leaves, golden and soft. Your heartbeat raced.
“Well, I wouldn’t.” You said with a smile. The wind blew to your hair and you closed your eyes, feeling the breeze.
“How do you know?”
“I don’t forget things that mattered.”
And once again, Yoongi quietly nodded without a word. But he did put down the pen and stopped writing.
You followed your heart and rested your head against his side, hugging his arm as you did. He still turned tense every single time you did something touchy in public. You knew it came with the job. He probably had it embedded in his mind that he had to do the least physical contact with the opposite gender, knowing eyes and cameras were everywhere. Even after you went public, it took him months to get comfortable going out without the coverups.
You figured the habit would had stopped by now, but apparently not.
“I’m sorry.” He suddenly voiced out.
“If you’re sorry then don’t give up on us.”
“I don’t want to continue hurting you.”
“Yet you’re doing it right now.”
He didn’t answer.
But you didn’t move away when his fingers slipped in between yours.
That night, you lay in bed beside him. You didn’t talk. You just curled toward each other, the space between you finally gone. And when Yoongi reached for you in the dark, tentative, slow, afraid. You let him. You let him hold you the way he used to.
Because tonight, for the first time in a long time, you felt like he truly meant it.
DAY 6
You woke up to the sound of rain.
It wasn’t the light, soothing kind. It was heavy pounding against the windows, tapping hard against the glass like the sky had something urgent to say. You rolled over instinctively and found Yoongi still asleep beside you, his arm wrapped loosely around your waist. He was still holding you. He looked peaceful.
For a long time, you didn’t move. You just watched him breathe, watched the way his lashes flickered slightly like he was dreaming. His features, usually so sharp with exhaustion, looked softer in the morning light. Younger. Like the version of him from the early days, before the CEO titles, before the international press, before he started measuring time in missed calls and delays.
He stirred, opened his mouth without opening his eyes. “You’re awake.”
“You’re sleeping in.” You commented.
“It’s raining.”
You stayed in bed most of the morning. No alarms. No calls. No meetings. It was the first time in… God, months that there wasn’t something else tearing him away. And maybe it was the weather, or maybe it was the way his hand found yours under the blankets, but something about it felt different. Softer. Realer.
Eventually, you wandered into the kitchen together, sleep heavy and still in your pajamas.
Yoongi made pancakes. He burned the first batch and cursed under his breath, and you laughed so hard you had to sit down. He pretended to pout, but there was color in his cheeks that hadn’t been there in weeks.
Yoongi turned off the stove and came to sit across from you at the small dining table. He carefully placed the two plates on the table, with as he bit his inner cheeks, admiring his artwork. You ate in comfortable silence.
You were washing the dishes when he suddenly asked from where he was seating.
“Do you still believe in us?”
You didn’t answer right away. You were done with the dishes but you still had your back facing him, as you busied yourself wiping the plates just to avoid looking at his face.
Part of you did. Part of you still saw the man who made you laugh with flour on his nose, who kissed your forehead when you couldn’t sleep, who wrote a love song in a spiral notebook just to keep from forgetting.
But there was another part. Smaller, quieter, but louder in recent months, that had grown weak and tired. Tired of holding everything up alone. Tired of waiting for your fiancé to look up and see you again.
So you told him the truth.
“I want to.” You sighed. “But I don’t want to keep holding onto something that you can easily decide to let go.”
“Don’t say easy.” He quickly defended. “It was never an easy decision.”
You finally turned and met his eyes. They looked slightly red and both of his hands were balled into fists.
“I was tired.” He said softly. “I can bear the work but I can’t stand listening to you on the phone being all happy but then catching you cry yourself to sleep.” He looked down, feeling ashamed. “And I know you keep saying that you don’t mind, but I do… I mind it. I don’t want you suffering like that.”
“Honest to God, I don’t care how many times I have to cry.” You snapped. “I cry because I’m a human being with emotions. But it pays off. It always pays off seeing you come home to me. Because I love you, damnit. I fucking love you and I hate you for giving up.” Your voice shook, a single tear fell down from your right eye.
Yoongi’s face crumpled like he had been slapped.
“I can’t give you a normal life…” His voice sounded so helpless and it broke you. “And I can’t just leave the responsibilities of the dream I’ve built in years.”
“I understand.”
Of course you did. You could never make him choose. You wouldn’t even dare. That wasn’t even logical.
“I have my closure.” You said as you harshly wiped your tears. Forcing a smile, you took a deep breath. “We still have today and I don’t wanna waste it.”
The rain continued into the afternoon, thick and steady. You stayed indoors, the two of you moving through the house like a memory you both wanted to relive. Watching old dramas with your legs tangled on the couch. Sharing a blanket and a single bowl of popcorn. Pausing the show to argue about plot twists like you used to. You played the old board game that had been sitting on the rack for so long that it sprayed comically thick dust when you grabbed it.
He kept reaching for you. Little things. A hand on your knee. His pinky curled around yours. Resting his chin on your shoulder when you went to get more snacks.
And you let him. Because unlike what you said to him, you too were afraid of forgetting this.
You ordered pizza and had Korean bbq for dinner. It seemed improper, impersonal. But both of you loved just sitting down and indulge in random what ifs, while sticking some beef and alcohol down your throats.
You missed seeing his gummy smile. You missed him being a smartass and hearing his random philosophical thought about the whole society. You missed… him.
If you knew it was going to be like this, maybe you shouldn’t had asked for the week. It would had been gentler for your heart.
And when he climbed in beside you that night, he finally reached in and kissed you. You kissed him back. His fingers moved slowly across your body, like he was afraid you’d break just by a mere touch. His lips moved from your mouth, your cheek, down to your neck. By the time he reached your chest, your tears had fallen freely.
It didn’t take him long to substitute the small hiccups to loud moanings of his name.
DAY 7
The sound of items being stuffed and moved woke you up. Zipper dragged loudly, your mind immediately picked up on the situation.
He was packing.
It was the final day. Of course you didn’t expect him to stay much longer but it still felt so surreal seeing him packing his clothes and knowing the real intention behind it.
You got up with your body still bare nude, you pulled the bedcover slightly over your chest. Your eyes met for a second, but he still kept going. You wanted to ask. Hell, you wanted to scream, cry, beg him to stay, but nothing came out from your mouth.
“I ordered lunch.” He said, still busy with the packing.
You didn’t realize that it was already noon. You quietly nodded and went to quickly shower yourself. You convinced yourself that you had accepted it all during the shower thinking session.
You were about to get up and wash the dishes when he suddenly asked you.
“Dance with me?”
You looked at him like he had gone insane. “There’s no beat.”
“I don’t care.”
So you stood and you danced. No rhythm. No real steps. Just swaying and vulnerable, his forehead pressed to yours. And even now, no tears. Maybe it had all been dried up at this point. Maybe you really had finally came to terms with everything.
“Do you remember when we danced like this in my old apartment?”
“In your old kitchen. I tripped on the rug and took you down with me.”
He chuckled lightly. “You kissed me afterwards.”
“You looked beautiful in that moment. Like someone real.” You confessed.
“I think I forgot how to be real for a while.”
You looked up and were surprised to meet his glassy eyes.
And here when you thought you had accepted everything, he cupped your cheeks and your walls broke down again.
“Give me a chance.”
“Wha— Yoongi, I thought you were leaving today.”
You panicked, cupping back his face so now both of you just grabbing each other faces like a couple of idiots.
“Give me a chance,” He repeated. “But not out of obligation. Not because of what we had. Because I know we still can be.”
Your heart thumped painfully.
“I’ll find someone to train and take over my day to day. It’ll be a long process but if you’re willing to wait, I will have time for you…” A single tear quickly fell down and a desperate smile appeared on his lips. “I can’t promise you anything really, I hate myself for that. And I hate myself even more because I know you deserve better. Even though I know you deserve someone who would never make you feel neglected… I still can't think I can live without you.”
His voice finally broke as he sobbed. It was the very first time in years and years of knowing him. Sure you had seen him cry once or twice, whether from a good movie, to actual sadness. But never like this.
Funnily enough, still, both of you were holding each other faces. You started breaking into tears too, finally after being in state of shock.
“You don’t get to say all these things now and expect me to forget what it felt like when you asked to give up on us last week as if I meant nothing to you.”
“I don’t expect that,” He said. “I just want a chance to earn your trust again, and a chance to be strong for myself.”
“If I say yes,” You shuddered. “I don’t want it to be a restart. I want a repair. You have to rebuild from the cracks, not erase them.”
“I know.” He nodded, sniffing.
“I need time.”
“You have the rest of my life.”
Your breath hitched. “I need you to stop thinking I’m weak because I can take it.” Finally, a smile appeared on your lips despite the tears raining down. “Because I can’t imagine living without you too.”
Yoongi exhaled, shoulders sagging with relief. But he didn’t reach for you right away. His hands were shaking, you felt it against your skin. He finally dropped his hands from your face. He waited.
You didn’t though. Instead leaned forward and pulled him in. You wrapped your arms around him, burying your face in his neck. He held you back like someone who knew exactly what he had almost lost. He then kissed you like you were oxygen he desperately needed to survive.
There was so much to learn, so much to fix. But you were sure you could face anything as long as you got him by your side.
