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!! 💜
✦ first instalment for bts! stream arirang <3
✦ warnings: lightly touched upon themes of danger and harassment, sexism, obsession, safety, physical protection, stalkers, pda, undressing (not sexual), group arguments,
✦ wc: 0.3k
protective! yoongi who exclusively walks by your side at airports, subtly blocking hands from the crowd that reach for you, always at the ready to shield you with his body if anyone slips past the wall of security guards.
protective! yoongi who nudges you further into the centre of the group during red carpet interviews, disliking how exposed you are when not bracketed by the height and muscle of the guys.
protective! yoongi who checks your hotel room after security does the routine sweep, just to be absolutely certain you won't have a nasty surprise of a sasaeng hiding in the closet or behind the curtains.
protective! yoongi who coolly answers on your behalf during interviews when questions have sexist or sexual undertones, challenging the interviewer with a lazy smirk.
protective! yoongi who rarely shows public affection, but when he does it's to guide you through busy crowds by the hand, or an arm snug around your waist to deter male idols and actors from approaching at afterparties.
protective! yoongi who lingers nearby during costume changes on tour, keeping an eye on wandering hands and eyes so that you're never unnecessarily vulnerable.
protective! yoongi who backs you up even when you're wrong if the whole group is against you during arguments, because the thought of all six guys against you makes his blood run cold.
protective! yoongi who never walks the stairs of a stage to collect an award or put on a performance without first offering you his hand, making sure your moment is never outshined by a trip or fall.
protective! yoongi who never shows fear in your presence, always confident and ready no matter the situation. he does this so you never doubt that he's who you can turn to when it matters. to him, his calmness is more reassuring than any promise he could ever make to you.
Summary: Being married to Min Yoongi means understanding that recording sessions can last for hours. Being pregnant, however, means that sometimes cravings simply refuse to wait.
You had tried to ignore it.
Really.
You had even attempted to convince yourself that it would pass.
It didn’t.
Instead, the craving grew stronger with every passing minute. Mint chocolate chip.
Not vanilla.
Not strawberry.
Not chocolate.
Mint chocolate chip. Nothing else sounded remotely edible. You sighed dramatically from your place on the sofa, one hand absent-mindedly resting on your growing stomach.
“This is your fault.”
The baby, unsurprisingly, offered no apology. Your phone lit up in your hand, you pressed Yoongi’s contact.
The call rang. And rang. Then voicemail. You frowned.
“Seriously?”
You tried again, voicemail.
One more time, nothing. You knew exactly why. The members had a recording session today. Whenever Yoongi was working, his phone might as well have been on another planet.
Normally, you would have waited.
Today was not normal. Today, your unborn child had apparently declared war until it received mint chocolate chip ice cream.
You stood up with a determined sigh.
“Fine.” You grabbed your bag. “If your father won’t answer his phone… I’ll answer him in person.”
The receptionist at HYBE smiled the moment you walked through the entrance.
“Good afternoon.”
“Hi.”
“You here to see your husband?”
“I am.”
“I’ll let them know.”
“No, don’t.”
Her eyebrows lifted.
“I want to surprise him.”
“Oh.” A grin spread across her face. “…This should be fun.”
Inside the recording studio…
“…Again from the second verse.”
Yoongi leaned over the mixing desk, completely focused. Namjoon adjusted his headphones. Jungkook hummed quietly while replaying his part. Jimin stretched his shoulders.
The room was silent except for the music.
Then, the studio door opened.
Everyone looked up.
You stood there, hair slightly windswept from the journey.
One hand on your hip, the other gently supporting your bump. Seven pairs of eyes blinked at you.
Yoongi immediately straightened.
“…What happened?” His voice carried an unmistakable note of concern. “Are you okay?”
“You weren’t answering your phone.”
His face fell.
“My phone.”
He reached into his pocket. Twenty-three missed calls. Five messages.
His eyes widened.
“Oh.”
You folded your arms.
“Nice of you to finally notice me.”
“I’m sorry.” He was already walking towards you. “I left it on silent.”
“I know.”
“Is everything alright?”
“Yes.”
He visibly relaxed.
“Okay… Then why are you here?”
You looked him directly in the eyes.
“I want ice cream.”
Silence.
Complete silence.
Jungkook blinked, Taehyung bit his lip and Jimin looked between the two of you.
Yoongi stared.
“…Ice cream?”
You nodded seriously.
“Mint chocolate chip.”
“…Now?”
“Yes.”
“…That’s why you came?”
“Yes. I called. You didn’t answer.”
“I was recording.”
“I know.”
“So now…” You pointed towards the door. “…you’re taking me to get ice cream.”
For three long seconds…
Nobody moved.
Then Hoseok burst into laughter.
Namjoon followed.
Jimin nearly doubled over.
Jin clapped his hands together.
“I told you this would happen one day.”
Yoongi looked around.
“What?”
Jin pointed at you.
“Pregnancy cravings.”
“You don’t argue.”
“You comply.”
Yoongi rubbed a hand over his face before looking back at you.
“You couldn’t order delivery?”
“It wouldn’t be the same.”
“…Why?”
“Because I want you to buy it.”
His shoulders dropped in defeat.
“…Right.”
You smiled sweetly.
“So?”
He sighed dramatically.
“Okay.”
A victorious grin spread across your face.
“I knew you’d understand.”
“I don’t. But I’ve learned that saying no is apparently impossible.”
Five minutes later…
Yoongi was grabbing his car keys.
“I’ll be back. But you stay here, I don’t need you out in this heat.”
Namjoon waved him away.
“Take your time.”
Jungkook grinned.
“Bring some back.”
You immediately nodded.
“Actually…” You turned towards Yoongi. “Can we get enough for everyone?”
He looked at the six hopeful faces now staring at him.
“…Traitors.”
Jin smiled proudly.
“We support our sister.”
Yoongi pointed accusingly.
“I married one pregnant woman and somehow ended up with seven.”
The studio door closed behind Yoongi, and you settled onto the sofa with a sigh. Namjoon offered you his bottle of water.
“Here.”
“Thank you.”
Jimin immediately crouched beside you.
“So… How have you been?”
“Tired.”
“I believe that.”
“The baby has decided sleeping is optional.”
Jungkook laughed.
“Already taking after Yoongi-hyung.”
“Three in the morning. Every night.”
Taehyung gasped dramatically.
“It’s practising choreography.”
“I think it’s practising kickboxing.”
Everyone laughed. Jin sat beside you.
“Have you thought of names yet?”
You smiled.
“We have.”
“And?”
“We’re keeping them secret.”
“Aww.”
“You’ll know eventually.”
Jin pretended to sulk.
“I thought I was the favourite uncle.”
“You are.”
“So why don’t I know?”
“Because if I tell you…” You looked knowingly at him. “…everyone will know by dinner.”
He opened his mouth then closed it.
“…Fair.”
Hoseok leaned forward excitedly.
“Has Yoongi talked to the baby today?”
You laughed.
“He does every morning.”
“What does he say?”
“He usually starts with…” You lowered your voice to imitate your husband. “‘Please let your mother sleep tonight.’”
The room erupted into laughter, Namjoon wiped tears from his eyes.
“That sounds exactly like him.”
“It gets worse.”
“Oh?”
“He negotiates.”
“Negotiates?”
“Mhm. ‘If you don’t kick Mum all night, I’ll buy you anything you want when you’re older.’”
Jimin covered his face.
“That’s so Yoongi.”
About thirty minutes later, the studio door opened again. Yoongi walked inside carrying far more bags than any one person should reasonably be holding.
Everyone immediately cheered.
“I only left for one craving.” He set everything on the table. “I somehow came back feeding half the company.”
Jungkook peeked inside one of the bags.
“You got cookies too?”
“I was told the baby wanted them.”
You looked innocent.
“The baby did.”
Yoongi gave you a look.
“The baby also apparently wanted brownies.”
“Mhm.”
“And cheesecake.”
“Mhm.”
“And chips.”
“Mhm.”
He sighed.
“I’ve been manipulated by someone who hasn’t even been born yet.”
Namjoon laughed.
“I think you’ve actually been manipulated by your wife.”
You reached over, taking Yoongi’s hand.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
He looked at your intertwined fingers before shaking his head with a smile.
“No. You never do.” He handed you the mint chocolate chip ice cream first. “The reason this entire operation happened.”
You accepted it like it was the greatest treasure in the world.
“Thank you.”
The sincerity in your voice made him smile.
“You happy now?”
You took the first spoonful. Closed your eyes and let out a contented sigh.
“This is exactly what I needed.”
Yoongi chuckled quietly.
“Worth interrupting a recording session?”
You looked at him as though the answer was obvious.
“I carried your child to the studio.”
“I know.”
“I called twenty-three times.”
“I know.”
“I made you leave work.”
“I know.”
“So?”
He leaned down and kissed your forehead.
“If my wife is growing our baby…” He gently rested a hand against your stomach. “…the least I can do is buy her ice cream.”
The members collectively groaned, Jin pointed his spoon at Yoongi.
“Can you two stop being adorable for five minutes?”
“No,” Yoongi answered without missing a beat.
“I’m trying to earn points before the next craving.”
You laughed so hard you nearly dropped your spoon. Looking around the room at seven men happily eating ice cream instead of recording, you couldn’t help but smile.
You had come for one tub of mint chocolate chip.
Instead, you’d accidentally brought the entire family together for an impromptu dessert break.
And judging by the amused look on Yoongi’s face as he watched you happily eat beside the people who loved you both, he wouldn’t have traded that interruption for anything in the world.
⟡ Genre: SMUTTTTT🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥, yandere, dark fic, mafia au, angst, dead dove.
⟡ Warnings/tags: Explicit smut, really heavy dub-con, dom Yoongi, sub reader, fem reader, torture, death, gore, violence, drugs, Stockholm syndrome, mentions of abuse, actual abuse, hopelessness, manhandling (he treats u like a ragdoll), he def has an interesting way of showing he cares about u, u see him as ur saviour, reader goes insane highkey, ur kind of...always trying to seduce him..., penetrative sex, exhibitionism, unprotected sex, cunnilingus, fingering, overstimulation, spitting, handcuff play, sadism, MASOCHISM READER IS A MASOCHIST, SO MUCH TEASING, edging, shoe grinding, physical punishment, body praise, body study, gunplay, minor petplay, brat, choking, mindbreak, possessive Yoongi, he's more interested in making you cum instead of himself
⟡ Summary: Having been captured and tortured by the mafia due to your deadbeat father's debt, you ended up being disposed of in the Han River.
Min Yoongi was the Ferryman for the mafia, the one in charge of cleaning up the bodies when they were disposed of. In the night, he found your floating body, looking a lot less bloated and fresher than the usual corpses he was so used to fishing out.
Oh.
You still have a pulse.
That's inconvenient.
⟡ WC: 7k~
⟡ SENSITIVE WARNING: The plot and actions in this story are purely fictional and for entertainment purposes only.
I do NOT support abusive/toxic relationships in real life. If you find yourself in a similar situation, please seek help. Take care
The world was unfair. You were aware of that. Forced to sit in a rotting chair surrounded by strangers dressed in black, encased in a concrete prison, bruises, cuts and blood covering your body.
All because of your father.
That pathetic son of a bitch ran away from home, saying something about going on a business trip. Little did you know that his absence left you next in line to be shackled by his measly 200,000-won debt that accumulated so much interest you nearly vomited on the spot when the men in black told you what he currently owed.
200,000 fucking won. The average loan agency sent people to houses to remind them, for worse, and your dad couldn’t pay that? He didn’t even ask you for help?
The organization he took the loan from was infamous around your parts; they ruled the underworld with an iron fist, and anybody with a double-digit IQ knew not to deal with them.
Your father clearly wasn’t one of them.
Blood dripped from your open mouth, your throat dry and pained with every breath you took from the amount of screaming they tore out of you. Nothing you did or said did anything; by the two-hour mark, you were already pleading for them to kill you, or whore you out to someplace in Southeast Asia. Anything for the pain to stop. But no matter how much you begged, screamed, bargained, the hell simply continued.
You didn’t have any immediate or even distant family that would help you, not even close friends, no one who wondered why you’d gone missing, why you hadn’t responded to their texts, having ostracized yourself to pick up after your father's shortcomings.
You looked at the man in front of you with hazy eyes, hiccupping and just letting the blood dribble from your mouth. He had a mask on, gloves, and a pair of bloodied metal pliers in his hands.
Hoseok, you think they called him.
Even with his face obscured, you could tell how relaxed he was, like it was another Tuesday for him. Gently announcing what he was going to do to you before he clamped the pliers shut on your pinkie, removing the tip of your finger with a sickening crunch.
The raw scream that tore out of you was guttural, bloody, hoarse, the kind you would only hear from a soldier in the middle of no-man's land.
As if you were letting go of a thin threat, your head dropped, body going limp as you felt yourself exhale one last breath.
And as nothing happened, he stood up, throwing the pliers on a metal tray with a loud clatter. “Namjoonie, I think she’s done.” Hoseok commented, yanking off his mask, “It’s a shame; she lasted so well too. Whatever, I had my fun.”
Fun.
The worst part of this was that they didn’t even have to torture you for this long; even when they found out you genuinely couldn’t pay the debt, they didn’t even agree to end it and just sell your organs. Instead, they just let this man mutilate you like a doll given to a five-year-old who didn’t know what the concept of preservation was.
After several hours of torture, your body finally decided to have mercy on you, finally putting you into a state of unconsciousness due to the shock.
The man they called Namjoon was sitting in a leather chair far away from the splash zone; he closed his book with a clap of the pages, setting it on the table beside him before glancing at the doe-eyed man who was tapping away at his phone.
“Jungkook-ah, take her out.” Jungkook shoved his phone into his pocket without a word and moved to untie you from the chair.
His gaze then shifted to the other man standing beside Jungkook. “Taehyung, help Hobi clean the room.” The addressed man rolled his eyes with an inaudible groan, taking a pair of black latex gloves from his pockets before slipping them on.
Jungkook threw you over his shoulder, your limp body hanging over him like a sack of potatoes.
He looked at you with mild pity, a feeling he’s gotten used to throwing away over time. It wasn’t like this was the first time he’d seen his Hyungs torture an innocent woman anyway.
In the dead of night, Jungkook and his men took you to a secluded area of the Han River, gently placing your body on the riverside before letting it drift. His Hyung would be there soon to collect your body anyway.
What he failed to notice, though, was the faint pulse that could only be heard by a doctor's stethoscope.
-
Yoongi held a cigarette to his lips, taking a drag, holding his breath to let the smoke sit in his lungs just a while longer before puffing it out. He rested his arms against the railing of his boat as he looked on into the bright city lights.
Namjoon told him there was going to be a body heading his way, so he waited patiently. Eyes peeled for any anomalies in the waters.
Just as he was about to call Jungkook regarding the body's whereabouts, something drifting down the river made him stop. It moved with the current as every body did, yet the longer he stared, the more certain he became that something about it was wrong.
Normally, the corpses that came to him were always facing down, back afloat.
But this time, he could make out the faint outline of a face.
He squinted his eyes, waiting as the body drifted into the net before instructing his crew to reel it up. He approached the net curiously, examining the body.
It was a fresh one, the skin barely showing signs of bloating via decomposition.
Yoongi had seen death thousands of times.
This one was different.
With a wave of his hand, the body was released from the net, falling onto his deck with a wet thud, and he cautiously approached it. He noticed the fragile build of the body and chuckled to himself.
A pretty one, he could tell despite the horrors Hoseok did to it. What a shame.
Hoseok was a freak. When he was feeling more pent up than usual, he preferred the shrill screams from a maiden to the gruff begging of a man.
With a gloved hand, he inspected the body, noting the way the skin was tender and soft as opposed to tight and bloated, pressing two fingers into the neck below the jaw, where the carotid artery was located.
………thump.
His hand recoiled as though the body had burned him, a deep furrow settling between his brows as his gaze lingered over it. After a moment's hesitation, he slipped off his gloves, exposing his fingertips to inspect it with nothing separating flesh from flesh.
The crew members watched on as he did, wondering if this line of work was as mentally deteriorating to him as it was to them.
…..thump…….thump…....thump….
An amused chuckle left his lips.
You still had a pulse.
That’s inconvenient.
Without another second to waste, he interlocked his fingers, placed the heel of one hand over the center of your chest, and began CPR.
Water is ejected from your lungs to the side as you struggle to breathe, incomprehensible pain flooding back to your nervous system as your body is slowly brought back to life.
You wanted to scream, but your throat was at its limit, and nothing ended up coming out.
Yoongi was astonished. He’s seen Hoseok’s torture sessions, and even he had to admit it was beyond psychopathic and just hours of the devil himself at work. For you to have survived that…it was… fascinating.
“Get Jin on site, NOW.”
-
You were fading in and out of consciousness when the head doctor of the organization was patching you up. It was the first time Yoongi had requested that he save someone, a victim of Hoseok’s no less. He even requested that this stay out of Namjoon’s ears, not wanting to deal with the scoldings for keeping a pet for himself.
Diffused sunlight lit up the upper room of the motel, flooding through the blinds and glass cubes that lined the walls. The sound of running water could be faintly heard.
You blinked once, then twice. Head shifting left and right to see the room you were in.
Were you dead?
Was heaven this…messy?
You attempted to sit up from the bed, bedsheets not even bothered to be hooked onto the corners as they wrinkled around you. A sharp pain ran up your stomach as your muscles contracted violently, forcing you back onto the hard mattress.
With shallow breaths, the pain slowly subsided. You lifted your aching arm to see your arm and hand fully wrapped up in bandages, some parts splotchy with dried blood.
Then your eyes trailed to the tip of your pinkie. Was it always this short?
Oh…right. Hoseok cut it off.
You felt your chest tightening, not from pain, but from an impending sadness that caused warm tears to stream down the sides of your face, tickling past your ears.
You let your arm fall back down with a thud, bouncing slightly against the mattress.
Why are you alive?
The sound of clanging that echoed from downstairs startled you, your head turning to the staircase to see a man with wavy black hair wearing a teal sukajan carrying a black duffel bag. He ran his fingers through his hair, and it didn’t seem like he noticed you yet.
He walked past you and tossed the duffel bag to the red couch; it looked and sounded heavy.
Lighting up a cigarette, he tossed the lighter onto the table that was cluttered with trash, bottles of alcohol, and an odd selection of blades.
He picked up a roll of gauze before walking leisurely towards you, his eyes finally meeting your open ones.
He paused for a slight second before continuing to approach you, “You’re up.” He stated.
Opening your mouth to speak, you realized your vocal cords had been completely blown out, a raspy squeak exiting instead of a response.
You nodded instead, eyes wary and lips quivering at the sight of this stranger who you had no idea had good intentions or not.
He pulled a wooden stool from beside the bed, squatting down on it before grabbing your arm, unwinding your blood-soaked bandages to reveal your gruesomely discoloured arms, splotches of purple, green, and yellow clouding what used to be perfect skin.
Your fingers twitched and curled at his harsh grip against your wrist, feeling like he was going to yank your arm right off.
He took a rag from the bucket beside you, wiping down your arms, getting rid of the dried blood that had accumulated.
He held down the end of the gauze with a thumb, efficiently and swiftly wrapping your arm with fresh bandages. His fingers curled around your wrist, and you realized that his pinkie happened to be shorter than the rest of his fingers as well.
Yoongi didn’t say a word, continuing to take occasional drags of his cigarette while he worked through your body, eventually reaching your torso.
He didn’t even hesitate when he took a knife from his back pocket, slipping it through your bandages and cutting away at it.
You struggled slightly, little noises escaping your throat as you tried to prevent him from exposing where you were most vulnerable.
His thumb pressed harshly into your stomach, right on the sweet spot where it hurt the most, and you shook your head, hands shooting up to clutch his arm.
“I’m surprised you still have the energy to fight back,” He says, digging his thumb an inch deeper before releasing you. “Then again, it’s because of that spirit you’re still alive.”
You gasp, finally allowed to breathe as he yanks his arm away from you.
“But I’m not more merciful than Death, so stop your bitching before I take it into my own hands.”
You nodded quickly, allowing him to cut open your bandages and clean your body with the cold water, the drastic change in temperature stiffening your nipples; you didn’t dare look at him, embarrassed by your natural bodily response.
Yoongi didn’t care; out of anyone in the world, he was the one who cared the least about the ' most vulnerable parts of the human body’ because when you’ve seen it once, you’ve seen it all.
But he did find it endearing how, despite the bruises on your face, your flush was still dusty and visible on your cheeks, the fingers that didn’t hurt bunching up the bedsheets beneath you.
“Sit up.” He instructed.
Having attempted to before his arrival, you shook your head, not wanting to experience that pain again.
His lack of reaction showed he wasn’t too interested in how much pain you were in, burrowing his hand under the back of your neck before forcing you up in one swift motion.
It was so fast that your body didn’t even have time to register the contractions of your muscles, only feeling the whiplash after you registered you were sitting up, a mild headache building.
You covered your exposed breasts, letting him wipe down your back before pulling out a bigger gauze, wrapping it around your torso and covering you back up.
He took out an orange and white bottle from his jacket pocket, placing it on the bed next to you.
“Antibiotics, morphine.” He stood up from the stool with a sigh and began to walk back down the stairs. “Take it every morning.”
You wanted to stop him, to ask him so many things, but you could barely even make out a whisper, and he seemed like he didn’t even want to talk to you.
You took the bottles and read the instructions, dropping one of each into your mouth and washing it down with a glass of water you assumed was placed on the nightstand with the intention of being drunk by you. Your fingers trembled lightly holding the glass, realizing that the concept of water now brought you fear instead of life.
Feeling fresher than when you were wrapped in old bandages, you allowed yourself to fall back asleep.
-
You awoke to footsteps walking up the stairs, realizing it was way past sundown when the hanging oriental lanterns emitted a bright, diffused glow.
Your body still ached, but thanks to the pills, it was a lot more manageable.
Testing out your voice with a few ahhs, you were glad that you were finally able to speak.
“...Um…” You let out.
Yoongi’s head turned to you, realizing there was now a new voice amongst his.
“T-thank you…for…everything.” You whispered, hoping he could hear you despite how quiet you were.
He didn’t respond, instead throwing a plastic bag onto the bed.
The smell permeated around you, the lovely scent of Shanghai fried noodles whetting your appetite with each inhale.
He tossed his jacket onto the couch before throwing himself on it, taking out his phone.
You felt awkward, like you had to say something, had to ask for permission to do anything.
But he was so far away, far enough that even you knew your voice wouldn’t reach him, so you opted to stand up, legs shaking as you tried to support yourself, bare-footed padding against the floor in the tiniest of steps to reach him.
You placed your hands onto the cushion of the couch, gently falling to your knees beside him, eyes looking glassy as you tried to get his attention.
Being this close, he smelled faintly of seawater, cologne, and tobacco, a dizzying smell that clouded your mind with inappropriate thoughts, feeling a deep-rooted gratitude to this man who you now knew was your saviour.
“Is that…” You started, turning to glance at the plastic bag on the bed, “...For me?”
He glanced at you for a split second before blinking back to his phone, “Nah, that’s my dinner.”
Your cheeks flushed in embarrassment upon realizing your assumption was wrong. Of course, he already did so much for you, so how selfish was it for you to assume his food was also yours?
Muttering an apology, you couldn’t peel your eyes away from him; how alluring he was, how relaxed he looked, how blunt his words and actions were, yet he was still taking care of you.
Realizing you were still staring at him, he tossed his phone aside, hands coming to run them through your hair before they slid down to hold your jaw.
“Did Hoseok’s torture make you lose your mind?” His grip tightens. “Staring at me like that, like I’m some deity.”
Your breathing hitched. How did he know about the torture?
Yoongi seemed to notice the hesitation in your breath, lips curling into a smirk. “Yeah, I’m gooood, good buddies with the guys that fucked you up this badly.”
He said that like he was testing you, waiting to see how you would respond, how you would crawl away pathetically after realizing he was just as bad as the men who did this to you, how he would end up disposing of you like he’s done with others so many times.
Your lips parted, but what left wasn’t a scream; it wasn’t pleading or begging him to let you go.
“Thank you.”
Yoongi’s eyebrows twitched, his hands now latched onto your throat, squeezing hard enough to make your mouth gape for air. “You think just because I’m taking care of you means I give a shit about you?”
Your eyes weren’t begging him to stop, and that’s what he hated most about this. He was so used to girls begging for their lives that he didn’t know what to do when they were just accepting the way he treated them.
Whether it was something you already nurtured deep inside or the side effects of the morphine, the grip around your neck felt so good. Your hooded eyes stared into his conflicted ones as you felt yourself getting wetter and wetter.
Yoongi's eyes drifted between your legs, where you had on a pair of his black boxer briefs. With a click of his tongue, he lifted you and threw you onto the couch beside him, a hand placed next to your head to pin you against the armrest.
Taking out a black 9mm from his back pocket, he pressed it against your barely clothed cunt, the pressure sending waves of pleasure through your entire nervous system.
You let out quiet whimpers, feeling the heavy muzzle press directly on your sensitive clit.
“I don’t know what kind of lobotomy Hoseok put you through, but,” His thumb lifted to flick off the safety, “If you couldn’t tell, I’m not a fan of being looked down on.”
Your hips squirmed against his gun, body twitching from the heightened sensitivity fueled by fear and excitement.
“You saved me.” You let out amongst a myriad of noises, “If you want to kill me, my life would’ve been yours anyway.”
Were you stupid? Or did Hoseok literally shove an icepick through your eye and hammer it straight through your brain with a mallet? Or maybe the trauma genuinely altered your brain chemistry?
With another click of his tongue, he flicked the safety back on, backing up from you before placing the gun on the table.
“I should’ve just harvested your organs instead, fuck.” He cursed, taking out a fresh cigarette and lighting it.
You were disappointed at the sudden release; why did he stop? Did he not like you? Were you not appealing enough for him? You wanted to be useful to him in any way to repay him; maybe you had to try harder.
The next few days were spent in rehabilitation. At first, you could manage only a few tentative steps from one side of the room to the other. Before long, those hesitant movements turned into steady strides, and eventually, you were able to walk without much difficulty.
The discolouration on your skin only got worse as the bruises healed, the scattered blood underneath your skin diffusing across your body before it fully dissipated.
It was a miracle you survived, and an even bigger miracle you recovered as fast as you did.
With each passing day, you attempted several different ways to seduce Min Yoongi: resting your head between his thighs, randomly sitting on his lap, wrapping your arms around his waist, sliding your hand down lower and lower, but he always stopped you before you reached too low, gently tugging your hands away from him.
Gently.
You hated it when he treated you gently; it felt wrong.
Unlike the way he treated you when you were at death's door, harshly and without a care in the world, he kept his hands to himself when you recovered.
What was his problem? Did he get off on hurting the incapacitated or something?
With each failed attempt, you only got more frustrated. He wouldn’t let you go outside or help him with his work. He’d always sleep through the mornings and come back incredibly late at night. He always kept you well fed, bringing home takeout that you had to eat by yourself because he claimed he’d already eaten earlier in the day.
He never had a day off, at least, not to your knowledge.
Yoongi never told you much about the organization, only that he was one of its executives, and the demands of the position left precious little time for you.
Does he not get pent up? Frustrated? You were here, ready and waiting for him to bed you, but it seemed like he had no interest in that sort of thing. But then why did he do that all those weeks ago, on the couch? Just to scare you?
He used to handle you so roughly. Now he barely touched you. Was this punishment for coming onto him?
…Should you piss him off?
Yoongi had come home late again, but tonight you stayed up to greet him when he returned, running down the stairs before tripping over your own feet, tumbling down the concrete steps without attempting to catch yourself.
Your shins, sides, arms, and head slammed into the sharp corners of the steps as you tumbled downward. It was almost comical how many times they managed to catch you, until one edge dug deep into your temple.
You were fading in and out of consciousness by the time you reached the bottom, trying to find Yoongi with clouded, wandering eyes. There was a ringing in your ears that got louder with every second that passed, worsening when you heard muffled footsteps approaching you.
What kind of face did he look at you with? Disdain? Pity? Disappointment? You wanted to know so bad.
Your pupils dilated when your vision gradually came back to you, showing you exactly what you were dying to see.
“Ah…” You sighed, lips curling into a crazed smile.
He regarded you with the same unreadable expression as always, his head tilting slightly, a familiar gesture you'd long since learned to associate with his irritation.
“’m sorry, Yoongi, slipped...” You slurred, attempting to push yourself off the ground.
With a sigh, Yoongi crouched down, his fingers threading through your hair to lift your head, the excessive tug causing your headache to worsen.
Your pulse spiked.
"...I don't get it." His voice came out low and rough. "Are you really that pent-up? Just some desperate whore who wants to get hurt?"
The degradation settled deep beneath your skin, each word sinking in before blooming into a slow, burning heat that coiled in the pit of your stomach.
“What makes you think I’m even into that bullshit?” He scoffed, yanking your head slightly for a response.
“Answer me, pet.”
Your breathing shallowed as you relished the feeling of his hand in your hair, his words hitting you deeper and deeper.
You held back your tongue, wanting to see how much further you could push him,
“You keep tempting me, expecting me to fall for shallow taunts.” He pressed the top of his shoe against your heat, encouraging you to grind against it, and you happily accept, wrapping your hands around his leg.
“If I knew you were such a masochistic slut I would’ve sent you back to Hoseok long ago.” Your thighs twitched, contracting around his ankles. “Is that what you want, hm?” You shook your head side to side the best you could without accidentally knocking yourself out.
“N-no, he scares me,” You pleaded, pressing yourself against his shoe like a bitch in heat.
“And I don’t?” He laughs darkly, almost offended.
“Can’t say I’m too happy to hear that.”
His hand tightens into your hair, dragging you back up the stairs with little regard for the way your body stumbles after him. When he finally lets go, he throws you onto the bed, the impact sending a sharp tremor through you as pain blooms from the force of the fall.
“I'll be honest,” he says lazily, shrugging off his jacket and tossing it onto the chair nearby. “I suppose I am into that sort of thing.”
He leans closer, planting his palms on both sides of your hips, caging you in with a smile that feels far too amused.
“But you?” His gaze drifts over you, almost condescendingly. “No, I don’t think you deserve to be hurt the way I like it.”
The way I like it.
Those words nearly made you cum right where you sat, salivating at what that might’ve entailed, what he had in store for you if you just used the right words.
“But-” You swallow, refusing to look away. “I did what I had to do to get you to look at me again.”
He shakes his head, disbelief flickering across his face. “You willingly threw yourself down the stairs because you missed the way I treated you when you were hurt?” A quiet laugh leaves him as he tilts his head.
“Is that really what you thought of me?”
He cups your face, his touch almost gentle compared to the accusation in his voice.
“You’re too good for me, sweetheart. You really thought I was that shallow? That I’d only care about you when you were fragile enough to need me?”
Just as you were about to apologize, his fingers pressed into the tender bruise on your hip, one that had only just begun to form thanks to your earlier stunt.
A sharp breath escaped you, your expression twisting before you could mask it.
“You’re right.”
If Yoongi wanted to see the worst parts of you, then you would give him something worth looking at. You leaned closer, taking his bottom lip between your teeth and biting down hard enough to draw blood.
His eyebrows furrowed slightly, caught off guard by the sudden display of defiance, before his fingers curled around your throat again, those long-awaited hands that had once brought you life now held it hostage once more.
He pressed his knee against your cunt, your hips bucking to stimulate yourself against him while riding the high of asphyxiation.
“So fucking greedy…” He growled, loosening his grip upon feeling your body start to limp. Blood flowed back into your brain in a euphoric rush that had you drifting on cloud nine.
His grip tightened again, one of his hands sliding down to lightly trace his fingers against your neck, your ribs, your stomach, then your inner thigh, making you twitch and gasp with every movement.
“Never seen a bitch as sensitive as you.” He chuckles, intrigued that your body was still capable of reacting despite your mind being in another plane of existence.
His fingers reach into your underwear, immediately feeling your wet slick coat his fingers before taking it out and holding it to your lips.
“Open.”
Your lips parted, and he shoved two fingers into your mouth, letting you taste yourself with his long, rough fingers.
Your tongue felt soft and warm, a sensation that made him spiral for just a second before recomposing himself, taking his fingers out before the hand around your throat squeezed your mouth open instead.
He spat into your mouth, and you quickly swallowed, eyes nearly rolling to the back of your head as you adored his taste mixed with yours.
“Fuck…” His tongue poked the inside of his cheek, hands returning to your pussy, and he plunged two fingers inside, not even bothering to prep you.
The sudden entrance made your eyes squeeze shut in pain, loving the way it stung as his fingers scissored and stretched you out.
“Wow, you're actually enjoying this, huh?” He mocks, pace quickening, fingers curling to press against the spot that sent you to the stars.
Your warm and soft insides clenched around his fingers, the frequency rising nearly past the edge before he quickly takes his fingers out, causing your eyes to snap open in shock.
Just as you were about to reach your orgasm, Yoongi stole it from you in an instant, your walls now clenching around nothing.
“W-why did you?-" Before you realized it, your head had turned the other way, a burning, stinging sensation left on your right cheek.
Yoongi had slapped you.
With the hand that struck you across the face, he grabbed your jaw, forcing you to look at him.
His head tilted, “Who said you could cum?”
Tears fell from your glassy eyes, guilt welling up in your chest, “...I'm sorry, I'm sorry, please can I cum Yoongi? Please let me cum…!” You begged pathetically, the temporary freedom of accumulated stress the past weeks teetering on the edge.
“You wanna cum?” He sat up from the bed, fingers hooking onto the handle of his nightstand drawer before pulling it, digging his hand through the contents before pulling out a glint of metal that clattered against each other.
Handcuffs.
He took your wrists, bringing them together before hooking the chain behind the metal poles of the headrest.
You could only stare at him in confusion, wondering what he had in store for you, impatiently squirming your hips. The sudden lack of stimulation was driving you to insanity.
He sat at the edge of the bed before flicking his head up, “If you can cum without my help, I'll reward you.”
You looked at him in shock. How were you supposed to cum with your hands out of commission?
Not wanting to piss him off to the point he just decides to leave, you pressed your thighs together, desperately trying to create a pleasurable friction to the best of your abilities.
Seconds turned to long minutes, with you trying every position you were capable of putting yourself in to try and orgasm.
By the time you decided to give up, you were in tears, face down, ass up as you panted in frustration. Skin tacky from sweat and tears.
Yoongi had watched the entire thing, start to finish, his eyes never left your figure, not even when Namjoon called to assign him another task. Responding to his boss casually as you attempted to get yourself off.
“Yoongi…Please…” You sobbed, “What am I supposed to do? I can't do it, I can't do anything, please help me, I need you…”
Ah, this was it. Your cries for help were exactly what Yoongi had been waiting for. The way you looked now, helpless, vulnerable, reduced to the frightened little thing that had first woken up in his bed, trembling like a cornered mouse, was far more satisfying than any struggle you could have put up.
Min Yoongi wasn't the type of man to chase after Earthly pleasures, but if there was one thing he got off to, it was when people were at the lowest of the low, completely abandoned by the world and helpless, relinquishing their entire being to him and him only. Obviously it couldn't be just anyone. No, that was too easy.
You were the first girl he'd ever seen with the physical constitution of a marine, but the survival instincts of an unshelled peanut. The contradiction fascinated him. You could withstand more than most people ever should, yet possessed an almost self-destructive inability to protect yourself, making you the perfect plaything in his eyes, a toy crafted from the sturdiest material, one resilient enough to endure even the roughest handling without breaking.
He needed you to need him at your lowest, a specimen as resilient as you, crumbling with just a touch of his fingers; the thought of it nearly made him orgasm dry on the spot.
He could feel his cock twitch in his jeans, seeing the way your frustrated tears soaked into his bedsheets, his hand coming up to wipe a thumb under your eye.
“See? You can't do anything without me,” He cooed, retracting his hand to rest on your ass before bringing it down to deliver a sharp blow, pulling a strained moan from your lips.
“You need me now, don't you?”
He spanked you again, causing your wrists to pull on the cuffs, the edges digging into your wrists.
“Yes…yes…’m sorry…I was wrong…need you so bad…” You felt your ass heat up with each smack, a warm, stinging sensation blossoming over your cheeks. With one final hit, Yoongi's hand remained to spread and massage your swollen behind.
If you weren't already soaked before, you were a sopping mess now, Yoongi having dragged his thumb against your clothed heat to collect your arousal.
“You can't cum without me?” He tugged his boxers off you, several thinning strings of your slick parting with the fabric.
You wiggled your ass slightly, toes curling when the cold air finally met your exposed cunt.
“Mmn!..Yes! Need you to make me cum, Yoongi—please, I've been so good for you, haven't I?” You begged, fumbling with your words in a desperate attempt to get them out.
Good wasn't exactly the best word Yoongi would call you, a desperate bitch needing to be bred more so. But he didn't need to tell you that, right? The way your insides clenched around nothing, your face a hot, tear-stained mess, and your legs, begging to be spread open by his hands were all he needed to see.
With a harsh grip, Yoongi had flipped you over onto your back. He'd normally avoid looking at a broad face. He couldn't stand making eye contact with someone in an intimate setting for that long; it creeped him out. But your eyes were different. They gazed upon him with indescribable raw pleasure, alluring him in a way he wanted to see them roll to the stars and watch life fade away from them when he had his hands wrapped around you.
You hiccupped and sniffled, knees pressed together with your legs in the air, perfect for Yoongi to slip his hands between your inner thighs and pry them open. A single hand worked himself out of his jeans while the other went up to tug your hair at the base of its roots.
The headache returned, making you squirm and whine, but you were powerless to stop him. You were right where you wanted to be.
His thumb pressed against your puffy clit, the touch sparking thousands of nerves to set alight all at once; never once had you ever felt so sensitive before.
And for the reward you had waited so long for, you finally felt his tip kiss your entrance, inching it in before taking it out again. The slow movement nearly made you go insane if you hadn't already; not only was this prepping you so you wouldn't be able to feel the sting when he finally bottoms out, but he would purposely press against the top of your insides where you were most sensitive.
This wasn't enough, God, it wasn't enough. You needed him so deep inside you you wouldn't have to think about everything that's happened, everything that led up to this point. Yoongi was your God that saved you from your hell, and you would be more than delighted to relinquish your womb to him.
A perfect home for his babies.
As if he was reading your mind, Yoongi narrowed his eyes in contempt, “You're thinking about something nasty, aren't you?” He leaned down, breath light and airy against your ears, his tongue darted out to graze the shell. His cock sank deeper with each teasing thrust.
“Tell me what you want.”
You flinched but didn't flee, hands tangling themselves into his hair to give an encouraging tug. An action that rouses a perverse groan from him.
“Breed…” You gasped, “I want to be bred…I want to be hurt the way you like it, please Yoongi..!”
You poor, pathetic little thing, you didn’t even know what you were asking for with such a sweet voice. Pain, pleasure, mingled together to create a paradise for you and Yoongi alone.
In an instant, Yoongi snapped his hips to yours, a hiss escaping through his teeth when he felt how tight you clench around him. The ringing in your ears intensified by the force with which he pounded into you.
Thrust after thrust after thrust brought a wave of pleasure you could practically taste on your tongue. Your insides were practically made for his cock, sure to remember each and every vein that lined him.
His fingers pressed against your carotid arteries, cutting off the blood flow to your brain. How ironic that the very hand meant to confirm you were still alive was reducing your thoughts to a dizzy, oxygen-starved haze, well, not that you had many productive thoughts to begin with.
Your lips formed to the shape of an O when the endorphins flooded your system, nails digging into the palm of your hands, the pain of the cuffs now long forgotten.
If you thought Yoongi’s slender build presented him as someone who didn’t have strength or stamina, you were dead wrong. Underneath the jackets and button-ups he wore were hidden plump muscles you were sure were built as a result of his work. The ease with which he tossed you around, as though your weight were little more than an inconvenience, was proof enough that his performance in bed was just as good.
The sloppy noises of balls to cheek echoed in his room. A mix of your moans and his growls played like a symphony in your ears.
With the restricted blood flow, your vision began to fade. Yoongi would be guilty if he said he didn’t give a fuck and continued to choke the life out of you, but you were the one who begged for this, so who was he to hold back on your pleas?
Your brain had finally reached its limits, fading to unconsciousness as your body went limp. Yoongi waited a few more seconds before finally releasing his grip, his pace never faltering for a second.
He knew what people like you wanted: to wake up with his dick reaching the deepest parts of you, confused and high out of your mind from the way he forced out all the chemicals in your brain.
Even while you were unconscious, your serene face looked so pretty, fucked out and vulnerable for him. How perfect your breasts bounced with each thrust. What did he do to deserve such a perfect toy? All he ever did was dispose of the dead who fell into his brother's hands, maybe a couple more, and he could resintill the fear he held over you. He couldn’t wait to show you off to the others, couldn’t wait to see the terror on your face when he tells Hoseok he can have his way with you.
When your brain finally had a functioning amount of blood returned, so did your consciousness. You hadn’t realized you passed out, the fog evident in your eyes as you tried to figure out what the hell just happened.
“Yoo…Yoon…gi..” Your voice called to him, raspy, dry. Having avoided water unless Yoongi forced you to drink was not the brightest idea. You realized that just now.
“Good morning, Princess.” In the midst of your confusion, he leaned down and pressed his lips against yours, tongue intruding past your lips to tangle with yours.
His words and kiss caught you off guard. It was sweet, soft, a stark contrast to how vigorously he fucked you, pulling a myriad of cute, messy noises from your reddened lips. Just how many ways could this man take your breath away?
“Wanna cum…!” A tight knot formed in your core, sore and bruised. You knew better than to cum without permission, not wanting a repeat of the deprivation he put you through. “Yoongi…please? May I?” You mewled into his mouth, legs wrapped around his hips.
“Cum for me.” He groaned with a chuckle, parting from your yearning lips. “You did well, sweetheart.”
His praise seeped into your bones. It was so simple, yet it was like a breath of fresh air in the fog of ecstasy.
You tipped over the edge, insides clenching hard around him as you came all over his cock. His teeth sank into his lips as he bottomed out, tip kissing your cervix as he released directly into your womb.
By now, the both of you were flushed and overheated, the room carrying the remnants of a decision Yoongi probably should have thought through more carefully. He should have taken the time to strip himself of the unnecessary layers, but patience had never been one of his virtues. Waiting was simply not in his nature when something he wanted was already within reach.
He kept your hips pulled firmly against him, his hands tracing upward as though to offer a moment of tenderness, only for his fingers to drift to your cheek and deliver a light, mocking slap instead, meant to drag you back to reality.
“You belong to me.” The smallest hint of satisfaction crossed his face, not cruel, but something far more disturbing, the peaceful certainty of someone who had claimed the world. “All of you.”
You could only purr at his words, pussy aching and satisfied.
When you heard that your high school crush made it big after going to college in the city, you didn't think it meant this big – so big he's got one groupie sucking his face and another sucking his neck, in a pub. Ashamed of how your heartbeat still trips despite the disgusting sight, you are pulled out of your self-loathing by a handsome, silver-haired stranger in a sexy leather jacket. Needless to say, Min Yoongi's Harley isn't the only thing you are riding tonight.
pairing: yoongi x f. reader
rating: m (18+)
genre: smut | humor | fluff | pwp | lead guitarist!yoongi | biker!yoongi | strangers to lovers!au
word count: 1 k (for the teaser) | ~10 k for the complete fic.
— warnings: profanity + mentions of sex + suggestive conversation + horny daydreams + some (unintended) foreplay + some (unintended) clit stimulation + a motorcycle ride + some road safety hazards (bec yoon gives his only helmet to her) that shouldn’t be replicated in real life, kids!
— note: guess what i finally decided to finish up lmao! this literally had 8k+ words written - i'd left the poor thing hanging in the middle of smut 💀 it's nearly finished up now, tho, just some editing left!
— masterlist | taglist | feedback?
"Yoongi! Stop looking!" Your voice comes out like a squeak, incredulous and offended. Yoongi keeps laughing, obviously thoroughly enjoying embarrassing you. “Oh my God, I’m leaving!”
But you’ve barely taken a couple of furious steps down the sidewalk when he’s rolling his motorcycle down the road next to you and calling out your name.
When you look at him, still glaring but this time with a smile you can’t hold back, he gestures to the back seat. "Hop on. I'll give you a ride home."
Goddammit, finally. Yes, yes, yes, you’ve been waiting nearly three hours for this! You were beginning to think he’d never ask. Though you can barely wait to get to the good part, you still play the character you’ve assigned yourself tonight and make a show of pondering his offer.
Your gaze falls upon his Harley again, eyes running across its figure with interest. Matt black body and glossy black seats with silver engine work. God, it's a gorgeous ride. And you’re pretty sure you’ve never seen it around the town. Who lent it to him? There’s no way he rode it all the way here from the big city.
You’re about to check out the license plate when he speaks again.
"Huh. You look like you know a thing or two about vehicles."
Surprised eyes flying to his own, you raise your eyebrows. "Do I?"
"You're looking at it how I look at my guitar."
Somewhat endeared by his observation, you accept the helmet he forwards you and round the vehicle to hop onto it. "I work part-time at my dad's friend's garage. Cars are more my thing but I do appreciate a good looking motorcycle."
"Ooh, I do like my girls getting down and dirty."
Settling behind him with a few inches' distance between your bodies, you sigh at the joke. You definitely do wanna get down and dirty for him. So bad.
Instead of telling him that verbally, you slide close to his body, sealing your front to his back. He gives a tight exhale at the contact, which encourages you to shift around a bit, brushing your thighs against his legs and your breasts against his back.
Grunting an almost inaudible, muted curse, Yoongi reaches out to grip at your knee. His warm hand against your cold flesh freezes you in place, goosebumps smattering across your skin in anticipation. And then he squeezes in warning and you choke out an exhale, trembling in delight at the firmness of his grip.
"Stop moving."
The strain in his voice makes you grin.
"Sorry," you whisper, brushing the delicate skin of his neck with your breath, relishing the way he shivers in response.
You can already imagine the kind of sounds he would make when you drag your teeth against it… Fuck, you’re so wet, you might ruin the seat.
Clearing your throat, you try to cleanse your mind a bit and tell him where you live. "I'm just two blocks away, third lane on the right."
The grip on your knee tightens for a moment before he releases it altogether. You take the liberty to wrap your arms around his frame and place your palms flat against his abdomen. His chest rumbles with a chuckle.
"If your hands travel and I lose control of the motorcycle, don't sue me for health insurance…"
Laughing, you experimentally spread your fingers to the point where your pinky nudges at the waistband of his jeans. Yoongi hisses out another curse, and then as if in retribution, starts the vehicle.
Holy fucking mother of God—
The vibrations happen directly against your clit that is tilted towards the seat because of how you’re sitting, and before you can take control of the situation – you flinch. Bodily. Only for a millisecond, but that is enough for Yoongi to notice. And a moment later, he adjusts one of the mirrors to meet your eyes with a smirk.
“The vibrations too much for ya?”
Fuck.
Embarrassed but never one to shy away from your sexuality, you cling onto him tighter, allowing your breasts to press up flat against his back. And despite the layer of clothing, he does feel them, if the responding jump his breathing gives is anything to go by.
You smirk back through the mirror, satisfaction flowing through you when he bites down on his bottom lip.
"Before I drop you off," he begins with a raised eyebrow, "wanna ride around for a while?"
No, you don't. You honest to God don't wanna do anything that could cause delay in you getting dicked down. But you still don't know how to make that point to a guy you met hours ago without sounding like a whore. You are, on more levels than you care to admit, but you'd like to be respected until Yoongi decides to make you his little bitch.
So you give him a nod, pursing your lips and concealing your frustration behind them.
And then the bike moves, shooting off like an arrow against the cold night air that slaps at your cheeks icily.
Your grip involuntarily tightens around Yoongi, this time more out of fear of being tossed off the vehicle than any teasing purposes. That is not to say his smirk recedes at all – you can still see the alluring oblique his lips have formed.
"You good back there?"
Inhaling deeply through your nose and exhaling through your mouth, you move your chin up to rest it over his shoulder-blade, catching Yoongi's eye in the mirror. "Yep."
The feel of his solid back against your front doesn't stop sending shockwaves of pleasure through your system, nearly distracting you from your surroundings.
Nearly.
Because then he swerves into a lane that you use as a shortcut to one of the best lookout (read: makeout) points in your town. Where the hell is he taking you? Surely not…the one place you've always wanted to fuck at?
How would he even know of this shortcut, though? Sure, he could've asked around, but these lanes aren't exactly the simplest to navigate. You used to lose your way in the beginning before you gradually became an expert over the years.
Eyes narrowing in suspicion, you scan the side of Yoongi's face. He looks very relaxed, as if driving around these complex streets is second nature to him.
Huh.
Is that his resting bitch face or has he been to this town before?
You have to ask.
"Um, so… where are we going?"
A snort tumbles out of Yoongi. "You can't tell?"
Okay, so you're right. He is going to the viewpoint. You're so gonna fuck him on that cloud of a ledge that overlooks the whole town.
This is about to be the best fucking night of your life.
Pairing: Min Yoongi x Reader
word count: Approx 3.5k
Genre: Fluff. Slice of life. College au. Suggestive themes. Valentine's day special.
warnings: Alcohol. A MAN.
Main navigation
Summary:
Dancing the night away at a bar with your friend: fun. Getting followed by a man much too persistent for his own good: not fun. Thankfully, your knight in a 'Cat Dad' hat shining armor appears just in the nick of time to save your deteriorating night with soft gummy smiles and a massive plate of French fries he's just itching to share with someone.
"Will you pretend to be my boyfriend?" prompt.
A/N: Happy Valentine's day, my lovelies~ I hope you spend this day enjoying the company of others - but most importantly yourselves. Here's a cute little Yoongi drabble I had in my WIPs bc what better day to daydream about Yoongi than valentine's day? Picture me sending all of you little handmade valentines with a kiss stamped to it.
Love ya! ~Delyn <3
Story playlist
A walking bass line paced about the room, thumping against your ear drums and slapping it’s way across your senses. Your shoulders bounced in time with it, hips circling along to both the rhythm, the flashing lights, and whatever your friend was doing next to you. It was electric. It was free. The perfect way to celebrate the arrival of the weekend and your friends submitted thesis for her veterinary research science program. Tonight was about putting all the 2am crying sessions in fast food parking lots and endless discussions on feline dental erosion behind you at your favorite dancing spot in the city.
Well that was the plan until you arrived at their door, dressed to the nines with glitter in places you never dreamed of–only to met face to face with a ‘closed for reservations :(’ sign tacked to the door with a piece of chewed gum.
The second best place was worse for wear. Strung from floor to ceiling with kitschy Valentines décor and blasting music designated for hookups and spicing up a stale couples routine. That and the line was out the door giving you little hope to dare getting in. Not really the vibe you two were looking for anyways.
So you went to the third best place: a local sports bar that just so happened to have dancing. Whatever, you two could definitely make it work. Thankfully that lanky auburn haired fiend that manned the music seemed to know exactly what he was doing, turning the volume up gradually throughout the night when he noticed you and your friend getting far more into it than any other half-assed sway going on around you.
“I wanna request something. Maybe something from this century at least...” Your friend looked wistfully towards the front–more specifically the Dj himself who was picking at the frayed ‘D-Jhope’ sticker on his shirt.
“Something or someone?”You followed her line of sight, wiggling your eyebrows at her. “Either one: I say go for it.”
“You think?” She asked, though she was already smoothing the skirt of her dress and fixing her hair. “I thought we didn’t want the romantic vibe?”
You snorted. “Who cares, plans change. It’s Valentines day for fuck’s sake. It’s been what–eight months for you?”
“Don’t remind me,” She groaned, hiding her face behind her palm and face flushing with embarrassment. “What if he thinks I’m weird? I came to a sports bar dressed like I took the wrong train in from Vegas.”
“Nonsense. You look hot as fuck and we both know he’d be turning down the best night of his life.” You held her by the shoulders and gave her a pointed look. “You need this.”
“I’m hot and I need this.” She affirmed with a growing grin. It faltered only for a moment. “Will you be okay?
“Totally. I can always go back and chill at our table for a bit. Maybe call the other roomy for a ride home if things get serious. I got this,” You grabbed the mostly empty drink from her hand and gestured towards the booth with with your chin. “Go get ‘em, tiger.”
You didn’t need to tell her twice, the top her head already bobbing through the crowd and up his booth. With one flash of her dazzling smile you could see it–that poor DJ didn’t stand a chance. She had him hook, line, and sinker. When he beckoned her closer you took that as your cue to return to your table and wait to see whether or not you’d be going home together or calling a ride. Either way you didn’t mind, your aching feet could use a little break anyway.
Shoving your way back to your table you froze. Loitering around your seat was a middle-aged jerk who wouldn’t take the half-a-dozen ‘No!’s you had already sent his way as an answer. Your patience was running thin. He had already invaded the dance floor with his cheap cologne and fake designer jacket–now he had to infest your table too?
The taste of alcohol still lingered on the back of your tongue, fueling the urge to toss back another before giving him a piece of your mind. Your escape plan hashed out: one more shot, one subtle yet well-aimed kick to the balls, and a call to your roommate and you’d be out of here. Wait, maybe you should secure your getaway car first. Keep your escape streamlined.
Fuck–but what if your friend didn’t go home with the smooth-talking DJ? Chances were looking high if the way she hung off his arm already was anything to judge by, but it wasn’t certain. She hadn’t given you that look yet. And you’d be damned before you left her here alone without any confirmation.
Any time you had to think through a new plan was chased away by a drunken twist of your pursuers lips and a wave of his hand. “Hey! I was lookin’ for you…”
Turning on your heel, you wove through the crowd, eyes down and hands prying open your path to freedom. You managed to lose him somewhere in the dance floor between a grinding couple, catching your breath on the edge while scanning the room for plan C.
All you found was a line of dudes at the bar with their eyes glued to tonight’s basketball game, a few sparse groups nestled into booths for platters of greasy food and cheap beer, and a couple practically eating each other’s faces in the back corner near the bathrooms. You had hoped that by some miracle you would have known one other person here tonight. Maybe one of those college track runners from your chemistry class, or that wrestler kid you partnered with in your culinary elective. Anyone would do.
Your nose wrinkled, the scent of the man’s cologne permeating your senses. Time was ticking and fast. Turning around back towards the DJ would mean certain defeat, as you were bound to cross paths with him. You had to make a choice.
The booths were a no-go. One of the largest tables flooded with computer science majors that looked at you in ways that made your skin crawl; hungry and unwelcoming at the same time.
Next was the group of jocks with their arms slung over each other’s shoulders, laughing obnoxiously loud and shouting over one another with sentences made op mostly of the words “dude” and “Bro”. Not an option. You’d rather pull your own teeth and let your friend study them before you tossed yourself in that group.
Finally your eyes caught a glimpse of a lone figure hunched over the other end of the bar, hoodie sleeves rolled up to his elbows and a hat inscribed with the words ‘Cat Dad’ embroidered into the black fabric, barely containing his long black waves. Not too tall. Not too muscular. He looked like if push came to shove you could take him.
Maybe.
A hand brushed your elbow. “There you are. You’re faster than you look!”
It was now or never. Dude Bros, Super Villain Incels, or Cat Dad.
The choice was obvious in your mind.
Weaving through pushed out chairs and men with no care for personal space, you reached your target in seconds, overcoming the nervous hammering of your heart and tapping on his shoulder with two fingers.
“Sorry to bother you-” Your voice ran thin when he tore his eyes from the TV screen. Nearly black eyes peering down his nose carefully at your intrusion, fingers hovering over a platter of piled fries like he was just about to take a bite. Everything about him was reserved and controlled. Meticulous. Intimidating. Quiet.
Hot.
And he was still staring at you. Rather expectantly might you add.
You found your voice again with a shake of your head. “I know this sounds absurd–but will you pretend to be my boyfriend for just a sec? This guy won't take a hint, and I'm taking a leap of faith here. You’re my last resort."
If he was thrown off by your request he didn’t show it. Sliding the french fry between his lips and chewing it carefully. Salt stuck to his lip and in your slightly tipsy haze you felt the urge to wipe it off. You caught the glimpse of the thorn in your side approaching over his shoulder and grimaced.
“You know what–forget it. Sorry to interrupt-”
“Sit.” He cut you off, nodding to the empty stool next to him.
You blinked, mouth running dry at the unexpectedly deep sound of his voice. “What?”
“Hey, I just missed you back there.” Mr. Cologne slid up behind you with a cocky grin. “But since you’re here, how ‘bout I by you a drink?”
You floundered for a response, gripping the back of the stool until your fingernails left indents in the red leather. “I-I don’t-”
“Are you done dancing, babe? Fries are getting cold.” The mysterious man at the bar spoke up while patting the seat next to him, voice as soft as melted chocolate and just as rich.
Recovering quickly, you fell in step with him, sliding into the seat like you belonged there. “Yeah. I’m starving. And my feet are killing me.”
Then like it was as natural as breathing, he slid his arm along the back of the chair and over your shoulders, giving the hovering man a pointed look that definitely stung his ego. “Is he bothering you?”
“A little.” You regarded Mr. Cologne over your shoulder with feigned disinterest. “Sorry–you were saying?”
“I was just-I’m waiting to order somethin’.” He mumbled out, shoulders dropping with clear disappointment as he trailed off to the other end of the bar.
Letting out a breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding, you flashed your new companion with a grateful smile. “Thank you so much. You are a life saver…” You paused, realizing you had no idea what his name was.
“Yoongi.” He answered softly, stealing a sip from his drink. “You?”
“Y/n.”
He hummed low and deep in his chest, letting his arm hang comfortably behind you. “He’s still watching.”
You let out a heavy sigh. “Of course he is.”
Yoongi tilted his head to look at you, this time like he was trying to log every inch of your face to memory. It made your cheeks flush with heat.
“Is it true?”
“Is what true?” You inquired. He was right. You could feel the man’s stare still prodding into the side of your face from across the room. You relaxed further against the arm behind you to prove a point.
“That you’re starving.”
“Oh,” You pursed your lips, shrugging. It was hard to remember the last time you had eaten anything, your pre-drinking meal thwarted by the location change. “I guess now that I think about it–yeah, I am.”
After half a beat, he used two fingers to slide the plate between you, nodding down to it. “Eat. I have way too much to eat by myself, and it looks like your admirer has little interest in letting you go anywhere. Might as well play the part. It would be suspicious if you didn’t anyway.”
“You sure?” Your eyes darted from him down to the steaming plate of potatoes that threatened to make you drool now that their salty aroma wafted so close to your face.
“I wouldn’t have offered if I wasn’t,” he snorted.
Rolling your eyes playfully, you snagged a couple fries and bit them clean in half, almost moaning at the flavor. “Fuck. I needed this. They taste so much better when they aren’t shared over a textbook plastered with photos of cat gingivitis.”
To your surprise Yoongi laughed. His smile made your knees week; a wide gummy display that crinkled both his eyes and his nose in a way that had you painfully aware of how you looked at the moment. Kind of sweaty and probably a little out of it from the combination of mixed drinks and the adrenaline of the chase. Not to mention the glitter–fuck, the glitter–that dusted your cheeks and cascaded down your shoulders, your outfit nowhere near fit for a sports bar in mid February. Your friends previous description becoming more apt.
“Take as much as you’d like. I ordered a medium thinking it’d be...well...a medium. Not a fuck-ton.”
Taking another and popping it into your mouth you chuckled. “They should put that in the description. Maybe even change the name entirely. Fuck-ton-of-Fries has a good ring to it.”
“And I’m sure that’d go over well with management.”
You made a face, grabbing for the ketchup and squirting some one the edge of the plate. “Why wouldn’t it? ‘Fuck’ seems to be a favorite in their vocabulary.” Giving a pointed look to the jocks you looked back to him.
“Yours too, clearly.” He smirked down at you.
“Isn’t it a sign of intelligence and what not? Some study from some place said so.”
He laughed again. God you wanted to hear that sound all night. “Very trustworthy.”
A natural lull in the conversation took over the two of you, his gaze returning to the screen above him and you content with munching away at his meal, pretending not to notice when your fingers grazed against one another. Suddenly he turned to fix you with a curious look.
“What made you choose me? Out of everyone else here–why me?”
A fry was suspended just out side your mouth, and you lowered it back down slowly. “Honestly?” Your gaze flicked up to his head. “Your hat.”
“My hat?” The corners of his lip lifted slightly.
“Yeah,” You wiped your mouth with a napkin. “Men who like cats are a green flag. Especially when they do so openly.”
“Huh,” Yoongi puffed out a humored exhale. “Says who?”
“You already know the answer to that.” You lent closer, the distance between you shrinking. “Research.”
“Yeah?” He challenged, tilting his head just just far enough before it could feel condescending. “From where?”
“Here,” You pointed to your temple with your index finger.
“Trustworthy.”
“Extremely,” You beamed up to him, falling back against his arm again. You really liked how it felt against you. “Just like you. Your energy is good.”
“So it’s not just the hat? Now it’s my energy?”
“Can’t both things be true at once?”
“Just this once I’ll let it slide.”
All the salt from the fries was making you thirsty again, hand coming out to the bartender to signal for a menu. Yoongi’s warmth was distracting your search, your eyes unable to stop straying back and forth between his hand that tapped around the base of his cup and the Valentines day menu. He must have caught on–because the way his index finger rimmed the lip of his tumbler was almost sinful. Slow and deliberate drags of his fingertip with a cocky smirk eating away at any excuse that it could be accidental. The shapes drawn in the condensation making your mind wander as to what they’d feel like when drawn into your skin.
The bartender returned far too quickly and you panicked, tearing your eyes away from his hands and stuttering out the first thing you could see: some kind of sweet strawberry concoction intended for giggling dates and enamored couples.
He did tell you to play the role anyways, didn’t he?
Yoongi’s silence was killing you. You wanted to hear his voice again–you needed to hear it again. For science. Memorizing every second of him was crucial for the story you would have to tell your friend when she returned from her night.
“How many cats do you have?” You asked, taking care to not let your voice crack.
He blinked a few times, clearly having not expected that to be your next question. “Just one.”
“What’s their name?”
“Tang,” His smirk softened at the edges, pulling back into another heart-lurching gummy smile. “Wanna see him?”
You scoffed. “Is that even a question? Of course I want to see him.”
Yoongi fished his phone from his pocket and clicked the power button, displaying the photo of a long, noodle-like black cat stretched luxuriously on a plush pthalo blue comforter, a stuffed mouse toy hanging from his mouth and one of his ears stuck at an angle. You had to chase away the thoughts of how comfortable the blankets looked and refocus on the adorable task at hand.
Gasping, you huddled in closer, your chin practically perched on his shoulder. “I’m obsessed with him! He looks so comfy~”
Yoongi giggled to himself, unlocking his phone entirely to pull up another photo. This one of Tang with his rear end in the air, front claws latched onto a paper grocery bag that he was actively tearing into with his teeth, the entire photo just a touch blurry. “He’s such a menace. Always up to somethin’.”
You cooed, accepting your drink from the bartender with a grateful nod and peering down at the photo over the pink fizzy mixture. “Never. He looks sweet. Such a precious baby~”
“He’s anything but.” He lost his conviction, now distracted by your drink and its path from the bar top to your mouth. He licked his lips. “What’s in it?”
You let the flavor settle on your tongue. “Strawberry soda for sure. Maybe pink lemonade? I remember seeing raspberry vodka in the description, that’s all I care about.”
“Is it good?”
“Very.” You hesitated, rim of the glass just pushing into your bottom lip. The dainty bubbles that rushed along the edges of the coup and huddled at the surface tickling the skin. “Wanna taste?”
Dark eyes narrowed, his fingers tapping against the wood with the speed of his thoughts. Finally with a mumbled curse and a shake of his head, he held his hand out. “Fuck it.”
“Not this though. This is all mine.” You plucked the strawberry garnish from the rim and wedged it between your teeth. Holding the drink up to his chin, you grinned around the fruit. “Open up~”
With cheeks nearly as red as the strawberry, he dipped his mouth down obediently, taking a test sip. Then another. His eyes locked with yours when he took a third, a challenge hidden behind the glint of warm bar lights and dark iris’s, a smirk toying at the edge of his lips.
You almost choked on the berry when you swallowed it. You’d seen that look before. That was definitely the look of a brat.
The heat from your drink spread quickly through your system, shooting down your arms and exiting the nerves along the back of your head until they tingled. Though most of the blame should be place on your alluring companion.
“S’good.” He washed away the remnants of it with the side of his thumb, dragging the digit purposefully across his lip and letting it play with the flesh for just a second too long. “Maybe I should get one.”
You feigned innocence. “You could. Or we could just share this one.”
“I suppose...” let his gaze glaze over the bar, a nonchalant scratch if his nose and a well place cough. “He’s still there.”
“What, do I not make an entertaining enough fake girlfriend for you?” You teased, nudging his side with your elbow.
His head whipped back to you, cheeks dusted pink. “T-that’s not what I said."
You smiled wider. Seeing him squirm was quite enjoyable. “Oh I see. You’re trying to get rid of me~”
He cleared his throat of anymore of his apparent nerves and looked at you with such honesty it made your heart flutter. “Actually quite the opposite. Trying to see how long I can keep you around.”
Your hands grew sweaty, your body temperature rising to new heights. Wiping your palms on your thighs you continued. “Good. Because I don’t have any interest in getting up. Who else is gonna help me finish this drink?”
Yoongi shook his head with a lopsided grin, biting his own lip to keep it from spreading as he lent back in his seat, eyes drawn back to the basketball game on screen. Naturally, you let yourself in on the free real estate the new position offered. Your sides now flush to one another, knees brushing innocently under the bar top, and his fingertips drawing feather-light patterns on your shoulder.
“Do you play?” You suddenly asked, pointing to the screen with an extra long fry.
“Sometimes.” Yoongi’s sigh held a thousand words. “Played a lot in high school until I fucked up my shoulder during a championship game. Now I just play here and there with a few guys in my classes.” He took another small sip of the cocktail before offering it up to your lips. “How bout you? You play?”
You gave him a coy shrug and obliged, gaze locked on his. The sizzling energy between you growing more prevalent. “I dunno.”
“You don’t know if you’ve ever played?” He raised a brow.
“I know the answer.” You tugged your lower lip between your teeth. “But I don’t feel like sharing tonight. Guess you’ll just have to take me out again if you want it.”
His lips stretched up at the edges boyishly, eyes gleaming in the low light. He spun the glass around to plant his lips right where yours had just been. “I think I can handle that.”
For months, you and Yoongi had been trying to have a baby, and every time it felt completely futile. Things felt as though they weren’t going to happen for you, and it was beginning to get a little frustrating, to say the least.
The two of you tried to keep a positive attitude for one another, though, not wanting to admit that things might need looking into. The soft click of the bathroom door echoed through the bedroom, and Yoongi looked up from his phone. He could tell instantly by the look on your face that the test was negative. You shook your head before dumping the test into the bin.
You knew, somewhere deep down, before you even saw the sad face on the test, that it was going to be negative. You always knew. Your body didn’t feel any different, there were no telltale signs, no hopeful clues. Still, a part of you always dared to hope, even when you knew it probably shouldn’t.
Yoongi slowly gets up from the edge of the bed, making his way over to you as he smiles weakly. He knew that there were no words he could form to somehow make things easier or better for you. But he wanted to be there.
"...Baby?" His voice is gentle and a little hoarse from trying not to cry. You couldn’t bring yourself to even speak. You just shake your head again silently, and he sighs, wrapping his arms around you from behind and pressing his forehead to your shoulder.
“I’m sorry, angel.” He whispers, pressing a gentle kiss to your shoulder. Your chest tightened a little as you shook your head. Why was he sorry?
“Why are you sorry?”
"Because I know you're blaming yourself again." You hated how much he knew you and how easily he could read you. You let out a shaky breath, tears already slipping down your cheeks as you whimpered a little and shook your head at yourself.
“How can I not, Yoongi? It’s my body. My stupid, broken—”
“Hey.” Within seconds, he’d spun you around to face him, his hands planted on either one of your shoulders, his voice is firmer now, but still soft. Slowly, his hands moved to your face and he gently wiped away the tears that were beginning to fall,
“Don’t talk about yourself like that.” He states sternly that he hates hearing you talk badly about yourself. But all you could do was look away from him, trying to get out of his hold, but he was firm with you, without hurting you.
“But I keep thinking…W-What if you could have a baby by now? With someone else. S-Someone better…S-Someone who could give you-”
Your words were cut short as he kissed you. It wasn’t an urgent kiss or something to quickly shut you up. It was just a soft, aching press of lips against yours, as if he's trying to pour all his unspoken words into that one moment. A simple kiss that was a gentle reminder that you were the one that he wanted.
“I don’t want a baby with someone else. I want a baby with you. Only you. And if that doesn’t happen right away, or if it takes a year, or ten, or if we have to take another route... I don’t care. I just want you.” Your cries only grew harder, and he hugged you tightly, holding you against his chest, pressing you tightly against him as if he was trying to stop you from breaking apart.
“I just wanted to surprise you one day,” you murmur into his hoodie, “like in those cheesy TikToks. Leave the test in a box or a onesie or something cute. I wanted to see you smile like that.” Yoongi smiles weakly as he rubs your back softly. He knew having a child would mean everything to you,
“You make me smile like that every day.” You sniff, weakly swatting his arm and trying to push him away from you, but it was clear he wasn’t going to budge from where he was holding you.
“Stop trying to be a romantic. It’s annoying.”
“You love it,” he says, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “Even when you pretend not to.” He says softly, his mind already working overtime on how he was going to make you feel better about all of this.
The next few days were quiet and calm between the two of you. It didn’t feel like he was walking around on eggshells, but he was being a little more careful with you than usual. You would wake up in the mornings to your favourite tea steaming on the nightstand. There was a heatpad warmed up and ready for you to use. Then there were the playlists.
‘For when she’s sad but cute’ ‘When she wants a bath’ ‘for when I want her smiles back’
Small things that made you smile again, and only little things he did without wanting anything back for them. Neither of you brought up the test again, though; it was an unspoken rule, you’d just move on from the negative and keep focusing on the future.
One night, though, you came in from work to find him sitting on the sofa, a notebook in his hands and glasses sliding down his nose. His eyebrows were knitted together as he concentrated on flipping through the pages. You smirk a little and crawl onto the sofa beside him, your head resting on his shoulder.
“Whatcha doing?” Yoongi practically jumped out of his skin as he felt you beside him; he hadn’t even heard you come home.
“Damn, you’re quiet, like a ninja.” He flips the notebook closed too fast, like a kid caught writing in a diary or a guy with porn, which makes you raise an eyebrow.
“You hiding love letters from me?” You tease, wriggling your eyebrows at him,
“No,” he says, a little too quickly. Your eyes narrow at him, and you gasp, realizing he was keeping something from you.
“Min Yoongi.” You say in a teasing tone, and with a soft sigh, he hands the notebook over to you, and you giggle, opening it and looking through it. Your smile grew as you noticed that every single page was dated, and there was a list on them too.
Names.
Little hopes.
Date locations
Her favourite snacks
What makes her smile most
Her favorite places
‘Things I want to teach our kid.’
‘What to pack in a baby bag.’
‘Ways to support her without making her feel like she’s failing.’
You blink rapidly, throat closing as you saw everything written down. It was like a little cheat sheet to your heart, as well as everything he planned to do in the future with you.
"You've been writing all this?" He shrugs a little, trying not to make it seem as big a deal as it was.
“Yeah.” He whispers a little, scratching the back of his neck as you look back at the most recent entry, ‘Things to make her smile when she’s down’
"For how long?” You look back up at him, and he was blushing, his cheeks and ears turning pink as he realised he wasn’t going to be able to hide this form from you much longer.
“A while.” He mumbles, but that only makes you want to find out more. You flipped the notebook back until it was on the first page. Dated almost four years ago, back to when you first started dating. ‘Everything she loves and hates’ was titled on the page. Most of it was everything you’d told him about on your first date.
“You really... thought this far ahead?” Your voice cracked as you felt tears rushing to your eyes and your throat tightening more. Yoongi slowly licks his lower lip, but he turns to meet your gaze.
“I’ve always known I wanted this with you. From the beginning.”
“I don’t know what I did to deserve you.” You whisper before kissing him softly, but he smiles before leaning forward and kissing your forehead, your nose, your lips. “You existed. That’s enough.”
Later on in the week, he took you back to where you’d had one of your first dates. It was a little noodle shop in the middle of Busan. There were mismatched chairs, and the lights flickered, but somehow it made it feel warmer. The owner was fond of the two of you and had been rooting for you when you used to come here.
Two steaming bowls of noodles were sitting in front of you as he took your hand in his, rubbing his fingers over your knuckles.
“You taking care of our girl?” The owner asked; he had to be in his late eighties by now, and you had always referred to him as ‘harabeoji’ since he was so fond of you. Beom Seok placed a kiss on the top of your head before making his way back toward the counter,
“Our girl? She’s mine,” Yoongi pouts a little, only making you and Beom Seok laugh harder. He shook his head and waved his hand, going into the back of the store, and things turned a little tighter.
“I was thinking,” Yoongi starts, almost shyly. He’d been trying to think of the best way to approach the subject all week, and he knew taking you somewhere comfortable would be the best bet. He didn’t want to make this feel like it was some kind of attack on you; he just wanted to have you relax.
“Maybe we could try to take the pressure off a little. Just live. For a while.” You blink, and the chopsticks you were holding fall into the bowl in front of you. He wanted to stop? Did he not believe the two of you could do this?
“You want to stop trying?” The tremble in your voice made Yoongi’s heart sink, and he instantly shook his head, holding your hand in his and giving it a soft squeeze. The last thing he wanted was to stop trying.
“No,” he says. “I want to stop counting. Stop watching the calendar like it’s a time bomb. Stop turning everything into a milestone. I want to go back to just... loving you. Laughing with you. Touching you because I want to, not because it’s day 14…Or because you know you’re ovulating…L-Let’s just take the pressure off.” You laugh a little, watery. Yoongi was the one who always came with a plan of attack, who always made sure to know when your ovulation dates were and when the best time was to start. Hell, he even had the best positions for you listed on his phone.
“That sounds really healthy. Who are you and what have you done with the overachieving Min Yoongi?” You tease, poking him with your other hand, only making him grin at you.
“I’m serious, though, angel.. I think we need to give ourselves space to breathe.” You thought about it a little before nodding slowly. You knew he was right; just relaxing and having fun would be better than racing against the clock.
Months passed by, and it wasn’t always easy trying for a baby. You still cried at times, but he always made you feel better. You’d been to the doctors, you tried vitamins, and new medications. You’d gone away on getaways where he made you promise not to take tests, trackers, or any ovulation kits. You tried new positions and everything, but something shifted.
It stopped feeling as though it was a race to get pregnant. It turned into something…softer…something shared between the two of you. The moments were more intimate, you laughed more.. The two of you would dance around in the kitchen at 3 o’clock in the morning after having passionate sex. You just stopped trying to force it, and things felt less messy.
But yesterday, when you’d been making breakfast for you both, you felt off. You had been for a couple of days, at first you’d put it down to the fact you’d had fish the other night, and it didn’t taste the greatest. Figured you’d gotten some bad food poisoning and would move on, but yesterday was different. The mere smell of the eggs had made you run for the toilet.
Yoongi was out at the studio all day, so you had time to freak yourself out without involving him, and that’s exactly what you’d done.
The tests were all sitting there on the counter, all clear as day. Positive….All three of them. It wasn’t just some random test; it was three. You’d checked them at least a dozen times, trying to make sure the lines were faded or a false positive. You’d almost not put them down in fear of them vanishing.
Your hands were sweating so much, your heart racing from the joy of finally being pregnant, and you couldn’t wait to tell Yoongi about it…But you didn’t want to just tell him you wanted to give him a moment to remember.
When Yoongi eventually made it home that night, he looked happy. It must have been a good day at the studio. He drops his bag on the floor and smiles when he sees you waiting for him.
“Hey, baby.” He chuckles, wrapping his arms around you before you kiss him softly. Pulling back, you smiled at him. You hadn’t stopped smiling all afternoon, and your cheeks were starting to hurt because of it.
“What’s got you looking like the cheshire cat?” he teases, poking your cheeks gently, but you just shrug nonchalantly at him.
“I made something for you.”
“You cooked?” he asks, narrowing his eyes suspiciously. Teasing you for never cooking lately, the two of you had just been eating out or ordering in.
“Should I be nervous?” You scoff at him and swat his arm playfully.
“No, idiot. It’s not food…I ordered us Chinese, though. Go change and come to the living room. I’ll be waiting.” He frowns a little at you, kissing your forehead before disappearing upstairs to go and get changed. He knew from the minute he’d walked into the house that something was up.
You snuggled onto the sofa, looking at the coffee table and smiling to yourself. Next to Yoongi’s notebook was a small box, which was wrapped in cream paper and tied up with a golden ribbon. Yoongi came barrelling down the stairs, his hair messy and wearing grey sweatpants. He flung himself onto the sofa and looked down at the box.
“…Should I be scared?” He smirks at you, only making you roll your eyes at him.
“Just hurry up and open it.” You whine impatiently, shaking him a little, and he laughed. Slowly, he slid off the sofa and knelt down in front of the table. He picked up the box and looked at you as he carefully untied the ribbon.
“Are you going so slow to torture me?” You whine at him, poking him with your foot as he moves faster, taking off the paper and throwing the lid onto the sofa beside you.
“No, believe it or not, I wanted to…t-take…my time.” He slowly trailed off as his mind registered what was waiting for him in the box. Inside was the tiniest little black beanie that he’d ever seen. Embroidered on it, in white thread, are the words: "Little Meow Meow 2.0."
Yoongi blinks. His heart was racing as he reread it again and again. The beanie was tiny enough to fit a baby. He looks up at you, then back at the beanie as if his mind was still processing what was happening. Gently, he picked up the beanie, and there below it were three pregnancy tests, side by side, each proudly bearing two pink lines.
His mouth parts, and a strangled sound comes out. You giggle a little and kneel beside him on the floor.
“You always said you wanted our baby to have your eyes... I figured they might as well start with your brand.” Yoongi laughed a little before choking on it because he was already crying.
“W-We’re really?” You nod as you look at him. His eyes were red from crying, and your own tears started to build, threatening to fall.
“We’re having a baby, Yoongi.” He leans forward suddenly, crashing into you with a kiss that tastes like salt and love and every missed month that led to this one perfect moment.
When he pulls back, he presses his forehead to yours. Sobs breaking free from both of you as you wiped your face and then his, he smiled through it and laughed a little.
“You’re giving me everything I’ve ever wanted.” He whispers as you slowly stroke his cheek free of tears, his eyes glassy. Yoongi cups your belly gently, reverently, even though there’s no bump yet. Just the promise of one. He bends down and murmurs something soft, it was so soft you could barely even catch what he was saying.
“I’ve been dreaming of you since I met your mama, I can’t wait to hold you.”
You pulled him back up to your lips and kissed him softly, relaxing against him as he pulled you onto his lap. Kissing you deeply and desperately, feeling nothing but happiness around you.
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.
