yoongi's glasses make you so horny that he stops working to eat your pussy on his desk, fogs up the lenses and lets you cum all over them... ruining you completely.
PAIRING. bf dom!yoongi x gf sub!femreader
GENRE. established relationship, slice of life, domestic and cozy vibes, romance, smut, fluff
WARNINGS/TAGS. 18+, explicit smut, oral sex (f. receiving), reader gets turned on from his glasses, sexual fantasies, glasses kink, makeout and kisses, cunnilingus, pussy eating, fingering, desk sex, face sitting, cum play and swallowing, multiple orgasms, slight breast and nipple play, tongue fucking, dirty talk and praise kink, overstimulation, slight edging, clit stimulation, ass groping, one spank, grinding on glasses and orgasming onto it, sweet aftercare, they're just so in love w each other
WC. 4.6k
A/N. i had to write this quickly because yoongi with glasses has been driving me crazy 😩 especially after the recent mv! i couldn't stop thinking about him so enjoy reading this, my nasty babes <33
「 MASTERLIST 」
your boyfriend yoongi had been working for several hours on his laptop, finishing his latest track.
he sat on the big chair, all focused on the screen in front of him.
a half finished black coffee beside him that you'd brought him an hour ago.
his posture was relaxed but still in an intensely concentrated manner that always made your heart skip a beat.
he was wearing a hoodie only, his dark hair fell messily over his forehead and every so often he would absentmindedly push his new thin rectangular glasses up the bridge of his nose with his middle finger.
the gesture was so simple yet it made your legs squeeze together.
you had been curled up on the small couch in the corner of his studio for what felt like hours now, he brought that couch especially for you only so he could have you in his space while he works.
he doesn’t like having you away from him for even a second.
there was a forgotten book open on your lap as your eyes kept drifting away from the pages and towards him.
the way the glow from the monitors reflected on his glasses, his brows furrowing in focus which made his already cat like eyes sharper.
it made him look effortlessly authoritative and intelligent, also attractive in a way that made your cheeks turn pink.
he started wearing glasses a few weeks ago and you had openly admitted to him how much the glasses affected you.
“they look really good on you yoongi... like, so sexy.” you had confessed the first night.
he had simply smirked and adjusted them with one finger, no doubt feeling pride at the observation and his girl's approval.
“noted. i'll keep that in mind.”
and he had.
ever since whenever he slipped them on for work, you found it increasingly difficult to focus on anything else.
a need that didn’t go away with every passing minute you spent watching him.
the longer you sat there stealing glances the more your clit throbbed insistently, your nipples hardening under your tank top and you could feel your panties get soaked clinging to your folds.
you don’t like to wear much when you're at home anyways so you're just wearing a tiny black tank top with no bra and panties only.
yoongi preferred you like this.
you shifted on the couch, twirling a strand of your hair and read one single sentence several times in your book.
you’ve been trying to behave but you can't focus on anything else.
finally when you couldn’t hold back any longer, you stood up slowly feeling your stomach flutter from nervousness.
you walked to his desk and stood beside him, yoongi didn’t immediately turn his head away from the screen but you noticed the way he tilted his head and the slight curve of his lips that told you he had been very aware of you the entire time.
“yoongi…”
you called out but your voice came out more breathy than you intended as you took in his clean male scent.
“hmm?”
he responded as his free hand reached out instinctively, fingers brushing along the side of your bare thigh, stroking it making you shiver.
his voice was always so deep that sometimes that was all you needed to hear to get horny.
you could never get enough of his voice.
“what's up baby? you’ve been squirming over there for a while now.”
he was almost amused still typing something on his keyboard as if he could read every single dirty thought running through your mind without even needing to look at you fully.
you swallowed hard as your finger twisted the edge of your panty.
“i… i know you've been working for a while and i can't stop looking at you in those glasses.”
you let out in a rush shyly but don’t admit how crazy it has been driving you as you look at him with half lidded eyes.
a chuckle rumbled out of him as he spun his chair around to face you properly, one of his eyebrows arched.
he scanned your face and then went down taking in the way your curves are right there for him to stare at, barely clothed in anything.
“yeah? you really like them that much huh?”
he never thought you'd get this worked up from watching him work as he leaned back slightly in his chair, spreading his legs a little wider in invitation.
the silver rings on his fingers were visible to you as he rested one hand on his thigh.
“i do… a lot.” you whispered.
biting down on your lower lip as your pussy clenched emptily.
“you look so… dominant like this.”
his gaze darkened noticeably behind his glasses as the word “dominant” left your lips.
“such a good girl for admitting it...” he praised and you let out a shaky breath.
“since you're so distracted by my glasses and can't seem to sit still… maybe i should give you a much closer look and take care of you while i keep my glasses on, you like this idea?”
his other hand adjusted his glasses with that same middle finger push you loved so much and this time he did it almost cockily.
“yes..” you moaned softly.
“come here mama.”
he patted his thigh once with his palm gesturing to where he wants you without words.
you moved between his spread legs without a second thought but instead of simply sitting on his lap, you leaned down first capturing his lips for a quick kiss without being able to help yourself.
he deepens the kiss immediately as his hand comes up to cup the back of your neck, fingers curling into your hair possessively.
you mewled into his mouth as you tasted the coffee he had been sipping earlier along with the unique taste he always has as his tongue brushed against yours, your hands resting on his broad shoulders for balance.
“yoongi... your work—” you started, glancing at the open laptop.
when he finally pulled back just enough to speak, both of your breaths mingling together.
“work can wait a little while.. my baby needs my attention right now which is more important.” he lets out roughly.
he had no heart to ignore that pretty pussy which was calling for him.
he was aware of it.
he picks you up until your feet dangle above the ground making you gasp at the way he always manhandles you effortlessly, his hand between your armpits as he settles you over the very edge of his large desk.
your heart pounded at the feeling of your warm thighs settling over the wooden desk.
papers and a notebook shifted under your weight and the mouse slid a bit as your hip brushed against it but yoongi didn’t seem to care in the slightest.
he rolled his chair forward until he was positioned perfectly between your now spread things.
“spread your legs wider for me sweet girl, let me see you...”
you obeyed, your breathing already coming out faster in anticipation as you watched him hook his fingers into the waistband of your panties and slowly drag them down your legs before he tossed them carelessly aside onto the floor somewhere beside him.
“mmph.”
you let out a whimper as the studio air hits your now exposed cunt, your glistening folds visible to him.
“look at this pretty pussy.”
he murmured reverently with appreciation as he leaned in closer, his hot breath fanning over your mound making you pant in excitement.
“so fucking wet and swollen for me... you're dripping all over my desk already and i haven't even touched you properly mm?”
his filthy words made your cheeks turn redder as you nodded, unable to deny how desperately aroused you felt.
“yes... it's all because of you and those glasses.” you croaked out shamelessly.
no longer having the restraint to keep your feelings hidden.
“i've been aching for hours.”
a coy look takes place in his face as he starts leaving open mouthed kisses along your inner thigh, each one making your skin tingle also leaving remnants of his saliva as you writhe.
his free hand rested on your other thigh thumb rubbing teasing circles that inched ever closer to your center without quite reaching it while he kept his eyes on you, a grin on his lips from your reaction.
when his mouth hovered directly over your twitching clit that was so engorged it had escaped from its hood, he paused there just letting his breath brush against it.
knowing it makes you a little mad.
he could never get enough of having you in this state and all open for him so he always takes his time, having the privilege of being your man which he can never fully believe.
he's always thankful for having you so he never misses any opportunity to worship you.
“yoongi... please don't tease me too much.”
you begged as your hands gripped the edge of the desk tightly.
“shh i got you baby. i'm gonna take my time with this little pussy because you deserve it.”
he whispered against you and then without further warning, his tongue which has always been incredibly skilled since the beginning of your relationship like it has a mind of its own, knew how to move in the exact way to please you.
it knew you better than yourself.
he dragged a long stripe from your dripping entrance all the way up to your throbbing clit.
“uh—ahh fuck yoongi... that feels so good.” you cried out.
your head tilts back with parted lips and he hums in approval which travels straight to your core making your walls flutter around nothing.
“mhmm you taste so fucking perfect baby... so ready for my mouth always.”
he can never get enough of the amount of honey you produce for him, he holds your plump folds apart to see more dribbles of your creamy mess leaking one by one.
“shitt.” he cursed in a dreamy sign from the way your pussy responds to him.
his tongue explored every inch of you slowly, circling your clit with quick flicks and then capturing the bud between his lips before releasing it with a wet pop and flicking it with his tongue and then sucking again.
“oh god..” you whined.
he can probably spend an entire day playing with your clit with his tongue and fingers like it's a little button.
one of his hands slid upwards under your flimsy top to cup a breast and roll the hardened nipple between his fingers with just enough pressure to double the sensations for you.
“mm... ah...”
your moans grew louder not being able to stop yourself as one of your hands fisted his hair while your legs kept his head trapped between your thighs.
“keep making those pretty noises for me… yeah… let me hear exactly how much you love my tongue on you.”
your body responds automatically as your hips rock subtly against his face.
“uh… uh… uh… yoongi your tongue feels—”
your words get interrupted with a sequel as another particularly skillful flick of his tongue lands on your clit making your back arch almost entirely off the table.
he looks up at you never stopping his mouth, drinking in your expressions as the wet noises and your whimpers of satisfaction fill the room obscenely.
it was so erotic.
and suddenly everything felt hot from the way both of you started sweating.
yoongi continued focusing on your clit using the pointed top of his tongue for a more targeted stimulation, knowing how much you love it.
like the perfectionist he was, he changed his motions based on your reactions.
you fisted one of his work sheets, unknowingly crumbling it which he didn't mind because he started eating you out even faster.
his fingers eventually joined the assault too, two digits probing your slit circling the slick opening before finally pushing inside your tight cunt in one thrust and you were so wet that he slipped even deeper on his own.
“ohh!”
you let out a surprised sob at the sudden stretch even though he's fingered you over a hundred times now but still now the feeling of his long fingers took your breath away.
his fingers immediately curled in that spongy spot deep inside you.
“fuuuuck yess right there! gosh yoongi, your fingers… it feels s-so good!”
you cried out loudly which sounded so much louder in the room as your pussy clenched on him once again.
the combination of his tongue on your clit and the way he keeps on pumping his fingers in and out of you has you murmuring nonsense into your hand.
you gripped the table so hard, your knuckles turned white.
sclick. sclick. sclick.
your pussy makes pornographic noises from the amount of arousal you keep on making and it is coating his hand now too, also dripping on the desk beneath you.
he groaned against your pussy, pulling away for a bit to talk but still with his mouth pressed against your labia.
“that's my good girl… so tight and greedy..”
a quiet overwhelmed scream left you when he added a third finger stretching you to your limits, increasing the pace just enough to push you to the edge without letting you tip over yet.
his glasses were starting to fog up from the heat and his own labored breaths.
the sight of it only heightened the moment for you.
“yoongi your glasses… they're getting all foggy from me.”
you panted between desperate moans as you watched him continue devouring you.
“ugh i can'tt.”
you whined as he kept on thrusting, scissoring his fingers while rubbing that soft spot deep inside your pussy like he's inspecting you on the inside.
he lifted his gaze to meet yours and you could see the lust in his eyes even though they were partially hidden behind the clouded lenses.
“yeah that's good isn't it? means i'm eating this pussy exactly right. you like seeing me like this? all foggy because of how wet and hot you are for me?”
he encourages you further with his murmurs against you as his fingers curl harder and faster now, directly sucking onto your clit as if he wants something to come out of it.
you couldn't take it anymore.
you were losing your mind.
from his words, every thrust, every suck, from his whole presence alone.
“i'm so close ahh please don't stop yoongi! i'm gonna cum so hard..”
tears welled in your eyes as your entire body tensed with the impending release.
“not yet mama. hold it just a little longer for me.”
he growled against your folds, slowing his movements for a few seconds to keep you teetering right on the edge and to keep you crying for a bit more.
then he sped up again relentlessly, three fingers thrusting deep and fast while also using his nose to grind up straight between your folds.
that's it. it happened like that.
your whole body seized and shook as the orgasm crashed over you and you crumble more of his papers on the desk and even making some files fall but you were too deep in it to notice.
“yoongi shitt i'm—i'm cumming! ahhuh yes yes oh god!” you let out a choked scream.
your cunt clenched around his fingers, fluttering weakly as gushes dripped down his hand and messily pooled on his desk.
your moans turned into cries as you clamped his head tighter between your legs and you tried to stop yourself, scared that you'd suffocate him but he grunted lowly holding you closer, which signaled how much he loved to be crushed by you.
he kept on licking and fingering slowly through the aftershocks until you were pushing his head away while letting out murmurs dumbly.
when the peak finally began to ebb leaving you breathing heavily, did yoongi slowly withdraw his fingers.
a snarl escaping him as he sat back in his chair with his chest heaving.
he held the glossy fingers up proudly and he sucked them clean while looking at you with hooded eyes, his tongue working around as you whimpered.
his glasses were completely fogged up now.
the only thing that was missing was his glasses soaked with your essence… it was one of your dirty fantasies.
and you wanted to do it.
even though you felt boneless from cumming as your body twitches with renewed interest.
you looked down at him through your post orgasmic haziness, still trying to catch your breath.
“yoongi...” you cooed almost.
“can i… can i cum on your glasses this time? i wanna rub myself all over them and make an even bigger mess… please.” you breathe out.
even in your ears, it sounded so naughty.
his eyes widened for a bit before a slow smirk took place on his lips, his tongue coming out to lick at his bottom lip slowly where there were still remnants of your release.
he pushed his chair back slightly to give you space as he gripped your thighs.
“you want that baby?”
you nod eagerly with flushed cheeks.
“please...”
he lets out a hoarse laugh, closing his eyes for a bit before fixing it on your face.
“god what am i supposed to do with this dirty girl huh?” he says so adoringly that it makes you feel giddy on the inside.
“come here then use my glasses however you want. soak me, grind your cum all over the lenses... whatever you want mama.”
he helped you slide off the desk on still shaky legs and straddle his lap.
your breasts rises and falls at his words and the way he always treats all your needs as if they were his own, always exploring whatever the other wants with no judgment.
because both of you were just as filthy and downbad for each other.
that's why people say you both just fit so well.
you shuddered when your sensitive pussy hovered just above his obvious bulge that held his rock hard cock.
but he was so focused on you and making you feel good to even notice that.
instead of making you sink down on him, he placed an arm under your butt and picked you up making your legs wrap around his waist as he carried you to the couch before he settled down on it first.
he tilts his head back just enough, holding your hips steady as he looks up at you expectantly.
“go on pretty baby, rub that slutty pussy right on my glasses… mm i wanna feel every bit of it.”
the command makes your legs squeeze together as you look down at him with parted lips, your hair framing your face.
he crooks a finger in your direction so you'd come and sit right on his face.
“don't make me ask twice y/n.”
you shivered at him calling your name, he only does that when he is in his serious and strict mood.
it always makes you weak in the knees.
you didn't waste time and lowered yourself carefully until your slick folds made direct contact with his glasses.
the glass against your already overheated clit created an entirely new and different feeling.
“oh... gosh gahh yoongi... it feels weird… but so good.”
you moaned sharply, your legs settling firmly on either side of his face as he gripped your ass cheeks parting them for better access.
your hips begin to rock on their own experimentally smearing your arousal across his frame, making the glasses even more opaque as your release began to run down the sides.
he gave your ass a firm squeeze as he watched you with feral eyes.
“that's it… just like that… you're doing so well… does it feel good having my lenses rubbing against your clit hmm?”
he asked with genuine curiosity as your whines grew louder and more shakier, even you couldn't fathom that you could make such wanton noises.
“yess nghh... i-it feels amazing… knowing it's your glasses makes it so much better uh...”
he lets out an animal growl at your words, another one of his favorite things during moments of intimacy is your honesty.
your hips shuddered because you're already sensitive from the orgasm you had just a few minutes ago so it made you a little weak as your hands dug into his chest grabbing the fabric of his hoodie.
he kneaded your ass and landed a sharp spank, making you sob as he helped guide your movements up and down when he realized you're slowing down.
it was so lewd.
like you're nothing but just a sex doll and you're releasing so much liquid that it didn't take much effort, too, you were slippery enough to glide all over his glasses.
you were swimming in pleasure.
you selfishly wanted more and everything all at once.
“more… more… please more…”
“keep going mama... cum whenever you want to… make a fucking mess.” he urged.
he whispers praises for you as your tongue lolls out in ecstasy, sweat forming on your forehead as he rubs your back soothingly while your clit is getting all the unique frictions from the edge of his glass.
it felt too much like you wanted to escape from it, yet want more and more.
you yelped as you saw a bit of your arousal land on his eyelid.
“oh no! i'm sorry i'll—”
he stilled you with one hard grip on your waist as he glared up at you.
“don't you dare stop, it doesn't matter… you're not stopping.” he rasps out.
a tear streams down your face in pleasure when his tongue comes out to catch a droplet of you.
“b-but i don't want you getting hurt.. it's going to get inside your eyes.”
“continue.”
that's all he said, just that single word in his strict voice.
you knew he wasn't going to listen otherwise so your hips moved on their own.
you let out breathless cries as he guided you to move faster, your hips quivering so much you thought they'd give out.
“i can't i can't, oh god oh god, fuckk going to, going to cum.. c-cum—!” you hiccuped.
“do it, cum hard for me… come on.”
he demanded as his tongue lapped up at you in the most delicious way.
the second orgasm hits you suddenly that you had to grip the couch to steady yourself as spurts and spurts of your essence left you, hitting him all over the face.
you felt so guilty, but you couldn't stop yourself as it soaked his lips and glasses and all over.
“ohhhhhhhhhhhhhh—!”
you cried out repeatedly, hips grinding through the climax until your body had no more energy and he guided you slowly until your forehead rested against his.
both of you breathing heavily.
after several long moments of shared breathing, yoongi removed the thoroughly ruined glasses from his face which were completely glistening with cum.
thoroughly ruined and marked.
now that the high has left you, you let out a mortified whimper at how nasty you've been and hide your face on his chest making him chuckle lowly.
he sets them aside and wraps both of his arms around you, pulling you closer into his chest.
“damn baby... you really did a number on them didn't you?”
he rubbed loving patterns on your back and you laughed breathlessly, still riding the feeling from multiple orgasms.
“sorry... not sorry.”
you got carried away and you knew it but couldn't help it.
it isn't your fault that he was so hot.
he nuzzled his face on your neck planting kisses along your cheeks and throat as you did the same to him, tasting your own release there even though he didn't attempt to wipe you off him.
he liked having you get him all messy on him.
he titled your chin up with his finger to capture your lips in a slow kiss that allowed you to taste yourself more intimately as you both groan together from it.
your hearts beating hard together and so damn connected.
“don't ever apologize for getting needy like that for me, i love it when you lose control because of something as simple as my glasses you got it?”
he looks straight into your eyes so he makes sure you're getting each of his words.
“it means i'm doing my job right.”
he grumbles against your mouth and you let out a happy sound.
he never fails to make you feel so adored and desired.
after a few more minutes of just cuddling and talking about silly stuff basking in each other and the smell of sex, did yoongi's attention finally land on the laptop screen that was still glowing with the work he had to eventually return to.
even though he'd love to spend time with you instead, take you to bed and fuck you right up and he was aching inside his jeans.
he wanted to give you a taste of your own medicine and make you wait.
making you impatient always brings out the best outcome and he also wanted to finish all his work before he could concentrate on you fully.
after a while he helped you off his lap making you pout but it soon melts away when he helps you put on the fluffy pink blanket over your legs after wiping you clean gently with tissues and even his face in the process.
your panties were too ruined for you to wear them again and he wanted you bare underneath.
he adjusted your top so you felt comfortable again, he then picked you up with the blanket wrapped around you like a roll of burrito and settled you over his lap on the chair.
he didn't want you away from him.
he gave you that lazy knowing smile, pressing a soft kiss on your forehead.
“think i can get back to work now? or are you gonna distract me again?”
he teased, thumbing your cheek while his other hand moved for the mouse.
“hmm... depends.”
you pretend to think as you settle against his chest with a contented sigh, feeling all comfy with him.
“maybe... but no promises after i clean those glasses for you to wear them again… i might need another closer look later.” you say cheekily.
he laughs hoarsely and shakes his head.
“such a brat huh? but i wouldn't have you any other way.”
the rest of the afternoon went on like that with your eyes half open, focusing on his work that you barely understood while he gave you touches occasionally.
sometimes leaning down to kiss any part of your exposed skin until you almost purred like a kitten being petted.
this was what he lived for.
you all wrapped in him while he did his tasks, just happy to have you there and he couldn't be anywhere else in the world.
he was the luckiest man alive.
“i love you lot baby, you know that?”
you let out a small breath and cupped his cheek, placing a kiss on his nose making his eyes close with a smile.
“i know… but i love you more.”
he opened his eyes with a mocking glare.
“impossible.”
his hand brushed on the ticklish side of your stomach, making you giggle and squirm.
and you knew in your heart without any of his words spoken because his eyes spoke.
promising that the night was far from over.
that he was gonna give you all the attention you want afterward.
민윤기x f!reader ˖ ࣪ ꉂ🗯˙ ‹— cw | idol!yoongi • domestic boyfriend!yoongi • fluff • comfort • clingy yoongi • long distance during tours • lots of physical affection • late night calls • lowercase intended
┈ [ ✉️ ] Hi angels !! This was a request by an anon in my inbox !!! And this is SO overdue I apologize. I have been very unproductive lately so… bear with me 🥺 Also, I am so close to 500 followers and I love you and thank you all so much !!! But Any-whom !! Happy reading !!
before tour boyfriend!yoongi :(
— spends more time in his studio with you sitting nearby :( doesn’t even need you talking. just likes looking over and seeing you there while he works
— gets quieter before leaving but not in a sad way. more thoughtful. like he’s mentally trying to memorize your routines before he has to be away from them again
— the type to casually ask “you’ll call me if something happens, right?” instead of directly admitting he’s worried about leaving you
— absolutely makes songs while thinking about you but will deny it immediately if you point it out
— starts sleeping later before tour because he doesn’t want to waste time unconscious when he could still be beside you :(
— prefers quiet nights together before leaving. takeout containers on the coffee table. tv playing softly. your legs thrown over his while he scrolls through random videos
— acts completely normal the morning he leaves but holds your hand a little tighter right before he has to let go
during tour boyfriend!yoongi :(
— terrible texter during busy days but sends random messages at like 3am because that’s when he finally slows down enough to miss you properly
— the type to send pictures with zero explanation : blurry studio setups. late night ramen cups. city lights outside hotel windows
— facetimes you while laying in bed half asleep, voice rough and quiet because he’s too tired to pretend he isn’t exhausted
— honestly misses silence with you the most. just existing in the same room without pressure to talk
— sends short voice notes instead of paragraphs. little “heard this and thought of u” messages attached to unfinished demos or songs he’s working on
— definitely falls asleep with the tv running in hotel rooms because complete silence feels too empty without you there
— when he misses you really badly he gets clingier in subtle ways :( answering your texts faster, staying on calls longer, asking what you’re doing every hour
— secretly rereads your messages before concerts sometimes because they calm him down more than he’ll ever admit
— acts like tour is just work to him but quietly tells you one night that every hotel starts feeling the same after a while
after tour boyfriend!yoongi :)
— coming home with him feels calm :) no dramatic entrance. just him dropping his bags, pulling you into his chest, and staying there for a long moment like he finally relaxed
— immediately changes into comfortable clothes and settles beside you on the couch like he’s reclaiming his spot again
— domestic affection with him is quiet but constant after tour :) forehead kisses while passing by, hand resting on your knee, pulling you against his side while watching movies
— absolutely the type to stand in the kitchen late at night eating snacks with you while talking softly about random things he thought about during tour
— loves the peaceful parts of being home most : hearing you in another room while he works, falling asleep beside you, rainy mornings where neither of you has to be anywhere
— starts bringing you into his studio more after tour because he missed your presence there while he was away
— spends the first few nights back sleeping deeper than he did the entire tour because being beside you finally lets his body relax again
— after tour he loves you in an even quieter way. comfortable. steady. like home became less about a place and more about wherever you are
Perm taglist : @kimmynammy @celliez @alphabetically-deranged @m4aimm @raceme2hell @bo-rimmy @mustanggbabyy @divakoo (comment or ask to be added)
Genre: Oneshot, smut, pwp, established relationship
Summary: After a small fight, Yoongi wants to make it up to you. He'll do the thing for you, he's on his knees and, of course, he also says please.
Warnings: MDNI, explicit sexual content, very loosely based on the lyrics of 'Please', oral (f receiving), fingering, face sitting, PiV, unprotected sex (they're together and I imagined MC on some form of contraceptive), dirty talk, Yoongi is cocky in the beginning and whiny towards the end, this isn't a dom/sub setting at all but if it was he'd be a switch, he's pussy whipped and begs for it hehe
Wordcount: 3.4k
Masterlist
The argument you had with Yoongi earlier wasn't even supposed to be one, seriously. You were just playing, but he took it the wrong way and now you're sitting on the couch sulking.
You were driving home together when it happened. Yoongi was parking the car, had put it in reverse, looking out the rear window with his arm slung around the back of your seat while backing into the open spot. You’d told him something about - what even was it...? Some random post you’d seen online about sourdough. And he didn’t listen because he was busy concentrating on parking. He’d asked you to come again once he turned off the car and you said something along the lines of it’s alright, you never listen to me anyway.
It was supposed to be a joke. Obviously! You’d even grinned while saying it but had turned your head away from him to look out the window in a dramatic display of feigned offense. Yoongi didn’t catch the sarcasm. And he huffed. Then shook his head and got out of the car without another word. That’s when you started to get pissed. He really thought you were that much of a bitch, huh? Okay then.
Neither of you were in the mood to address it, busy seething with a subtle broil of pent up irritation as you entered your shared apartment. He tried to ease the tension by pushing your shoulder with a playful nudge of his while you slipped out of your shoes. You scoffed though, still griping about him believing you’d be upset over something so trivial. And yes, the irony was lost on you. He let you be then, knowing you’d come around after a while and needing a minute to clear his head himself.
Some hours have passed since, the cool down phase in full effect and you drop on the couch after a long shower that brought some sense of balance to your brain. This ‘fight’ was so stupid, it almost makes you laugh. You shake your head, pulling your bath robe tighter as you swipe on your phone when he walks past you, then stops. He’s testing the waters, you can tell from the way he monitors your body language; how you will or won’t react to his presence. You raise a brow while looking up at him, the corner of your lip pulling upwards. A truce. One he decides to accept, judging by the way he trudges closer.
“You feel better?” he asks and you know he worded it that way on purpose, so as not to ask you if you’ve finally calmed down.
You huff out a breath, laughter mixed with a hint of reluctance, because that question still suggests that you’ve been overreacting. You don’t pin him down on it, though. Not yet at least. Rather, you return it. “And you?”
“Mhm.” He bends his knees until he’s crouching before you, his eyes now level with yours, one hand resting on your knee for support. “We were both being stupid, huh?”
Yeah, he’s right. Still, you don’t have to admit it right away. “I was just joking, you know? When I said you never listen to me.”
“Yeah, I figured,” he sighs. “An hour too late, I guess.”
The honesty makes you laugh and you drop your phone somewhere in the cracks of the couch cushions.
Yoongi takes it as an invitation - an unspoken extension of the truce that, if handled correctly, could even lead to peace. “I’m sorry baby,” he says before he leans in. “Let me make it up to you.”
You’re closing in as well, meeting his lips for a single kiss. Smiling now, you might have an idea on how he could fulfill that proposition. “And how would you do that?”
Yoongi cocks his head to the side with a smirk, eyelids narrowing as he thinks about it. He moves from crouching to resting on his knees on the floor before you, hand on the back of your head pulling you forward, so you’re still face to face even though he’s positioned lower than before. He kisses your cheek, lips wandering along your jaw and down the side of your throat where he sucks lightly, making your breath hitch. When his nose traces your earlobe he detaches from you but stays close, whispering, “I’ll do the thing for you.”
“The thing?” Oh, you know exactly which thing.
“Yeah,” he breathes against your neck while his right hand reaches for the lapel of your robe. He rubs the soft material between his fingers before gently pushing it aside and slipping them under. “The thing you like so much, you know.”
With the back of his hand now resting on the supple skin of your chest he pulls his head back to look at you.
“Hm, I don’t know what you mean,” you lie as you move closer for another kiss. He leans in harder now, sighing against your lips and pushes his tongue into your mouth. He flicks it against yours lightly, barely grazing you with its tip and it makes you chuckle how he’s subtly trying to help you remember. You pull back but keep him near by cupping his cheek. “Ah, that thing.”
His hand under your robe inches down, knuckles brushing over your nipple and the sensation makes it harden instantly. He finds the belt around your waist with his other hand and unties the knot with his thumb. His eyes widen slightly as the fabric falls open and drops loosely around your sides. It’s not like he hasn’t looked at you a million times before. Still, his lids show the tiniest of flutters every single time, the dilation of his pupils barely detectable.
Yoongi leans in, not taking his gaze off your tits and latches onto your chest. With his lips around one nipple and his hand on the other, he sucks with a slight graze of his teeth and simultaneously rolls his fingers, pulling a gasp from you.
The smirk on his face is dangerous, bordering on vicious, when he looks up at you. “You know, sometimes I think you’re only provoking those small fights for the make-up sex.”
He straightens his back when you don't respond, his knees still on the floor and leans backwards as he snakes his hands beneath your legs. With a firm pull, he drags you down the cushion, so your ass rests at the edge of the sofa, your back now flat against the seat. His hands run up the skin of your thighs, grabbing them gently by the backs of your knees and pushing your legs up against your belly while spreading them. “Keep them like this for me, alright?”
You do what he asked and hold your legs up with your hands, anticipation coiling tightly in your abdomen as you watch him with bated breath.
“So pretty,” he muses quietly when he looks down at you, nodding to himself as if he’s confirming his own remark while his eyes stay glued to your core. “Gonna make it up to you, yeah?”
You nod even though he doesn't wait for your answer anyway, already tilting his head down again but not closing in. He purses his lips a good few inches above your pussy and releases a dense wad of spit, letting it drop slowly so it stretches into a thick string, before it lands directly on your clit. You suck in a breath of surprise at the feeling, your hip jerking as hot slick that’s cooling down quickly trickles down your folds and Yoongi grins as he watches how it coats you.
When he finally comes closer, his lips trace down the inside of your thigh, kissing and sucking the skin on his way. “Gonna eat you out so good baby,” he mumbles while his thumbs draw lazy circles around the outer edges of your labia. “You want that?”
“Yes,” you whine, mouth agape as you watch him descend. If you weren’t wet before, you certainly are now. “Want it so bad.”
Yoongi chuckles against your skin, hot breath fanning over the slick across your core. His lips are soft when he brushes them from where his thumbs work, up to your mound and his eyes snap to yours just before he closes the last bit of distance to place a kiss on your clit. You shudder at the contact, brows furrowed into a needy frown, to which he only grins.
His tongue glides across you in calculated motions and - oh - when he flicks it, he’s really doing the thing that always makes your eyes roll back into your head.
“Fuck,” you breathe out, removing your hand from your shin and bringing it down to stroke through his hair. Yoongi’s lids fall shut when your fingers catch hold of a thick strand to pull him even closer and he releases a muffled groan against you.
He runs his tongue up and down your pussy in unhurried strokes, lapping at your entrance and tracing its outline before coming back up. His finger pushes into you right when his lips close around your clit, sucking lightly and kissing it softly as he applies pressure to his hand, entering you with one single, slow thrust. Your head falls back into the couch cushion when he pumps it in and out, curling it just right, so he hits the spot you need him to.
“Right there,” you moan, fingers tightening around the hair close to his scalp. He knows, of course he does, that you like it right there and doesn't relent, his tongue still working its wonders while he adds a second finger, pushing and pulling and curling on their way out, making you feel like you’re going to explode.
Fuck, the muscles in your abdomen are straining, breaths turning shallow and your legs begin to shake already. You're about to come, pulling him even closer and he groans against your pussy again.
When you tear your eyes open to look at him, you notice him shuffling around a bit and wonder what he's doing. The coil in your belly relaxes at the slight distraction, eyes wandering over his hunched figure. Ah, he moved his free hand down into his pants. You twist your torso a bit to get a better view and take another peak to confirm. Yes, he pushed down his sweats and is jerking himself off while eating you out.
You giggle, feeling yourself getting even wetter at the thought of him enjoying this so much he has to touch himself, but Yoongi looks up at you at the sound.
“What's so funny?” he asks, a bit out of breath.
“Nothing,” you answer as your fingers run across his scalp. “Just didn't expect you to multitask.”
His gaze drops down to his dick, a slight flush on his cheeks before he pulls up his pants.
“No, don't stop. I like it.”
“Not planning on stopping,” he says as he stands up from the floor and offers you his hand. “Just changing the setting.”
You let him pull you up and guide you into the bedroom, where he pushes the bath robe from your shoulders and takes off his shirt. He pulls you to sit at the edge of the bed, tips of his fingers ghosting up your arms before he tangles them in your hair to pull you in. Your lips meet for a hungry kiss, Yoongi’s nonchalance slowly but surely dissipating. His hands roam your whole body and end up on your tits for a harsh squeeze while you sigh against his lips, desperately wanting to touch him too. You reach out for him, palming him over his sweats and earn a sharp exhale from him. He doesn't grant you access for long though as he pulls back, eager eyes now dark and almost impatient, taking in your figure before he slips away.
You watch him moving up the mattress where he throws the pillows down to the floor and lays down flat on his back, his head right where the pillows were a second ago.
“Come here and sit on my face,” he says as his hand already snakes down into his pants again.
No need to ask you twice, of course you’re going to, you’re already on your way actually. You climb onto the bed and swing a leg over him, straddling his face between your thighs. Yoongi smiles up at you before pulling you closer by your hip.
“Now let me finish this.” His words slur against your skin as you grab the headboard for support in hopes that it'll help you to come out of this alive.
His strokes are quick now, diligently lapping at your dripping heat, making you throw your head back, nails digging into the wood in front of you.
“God, fuck,” you sigh, wanting to tell him how good it feels but alas, you're lost for words, thoughts currently swimming somewhere too far away for your brain to catch up and form a coherent sentence.
You're afraid of suffocating him between your legs, thighs flexing absentmindedly to hold most of your weight up even though his left arm on your hip keeps pulling, pulling, pulling you down and you finally give in and relax. Now that you're really sitting down, he breathes out a groan so content, it vibrates through your whole body.
Without a doubt he’s giving his all to make it up to you, kissing, tongue swirling, slurping you up until you see stars. Your hips start rocking on him on their own, needily grinding over his face as you chase your release and he seems to like that, judging by the way he hums against you at the constant back and forth.
“Shit, I’m so close,” you gasp as he’s guiding your movements across his face, tongue rolling over your clit every time you glide over his lips. The coil in your belly tightens as you feel him stir and you turn your head only to see that he’s pushed his sweats down again, hand closed around his dick and stroking himself. The image propels you across the edge, fingers on the headboard digging harder into the wood while your other hand finds his hair to hold on to. With your head spinning and ears ringing, you shudder above him, riding out your high in quick motions, pussy clenching around nothing while he eats you out like you're his favorite meal.
He’s not stopping his feast, still licking your throbbing clit until you have to pull off of him with a moan that ends up sounding more like a cry. Your body betrays you as you move and you practically fold, falling down on the mattress right next to him and landing on your back with a thump.
Yoongi gets up on his knees while you gasp for air, towering over your figure with his sweats shoved down his thighs and he immediately presses himself against you, hand on his hard dick, rubbing it up and down your sensitive core.
“Shit baby,” he grits out with his eyes closed, mouth glistening with your essence as he leans in for another kiss. “Wanna fuck you so bad.”
“Yeah?” you ask, buying yourself a bit more time to calm down. You reach for him and replace his hand with yours, fingers wrapping tightly around his erection. “I’m still so sensitive though.”
His tip is halfway inside of you and his head falls back when you start pumping him slowly, dragging out the moment before he can push in further. “Please baby, you feel so good.”
It makes you chuckle when he begs and he knows you like it, so you can't help yourself from playing that game, still pumping him lazily while he holds himself back from sinking in fully. “Are you sure you've made it up to me properly? You were really mean earlier.”
“Shit, don't do this to me,” he almost whines. “I was so, so good to you, wasn't I? Made you come so hard.”
“Yeah, you did,” you tell him, gripping him a bit tighter as you roll your wrist on him and drawing another sharp breath from his lips while you kiss him. “So you’d say you’ve earned it, huh?”
“Yes!” He nods like you asked him if you should gift him a million dollars right now. “Yes, I’ve earned it. Please baby. Please.”
Can't deny him his wishes, not when he begs so nicely, can you?
“Alright, yeah,” you whisper while changing the angle of your hold to line him up perfectly. “Go on and fuck me, baby.”
He thrusts in fully without any warning, pushing a moan from your lungs at the sudden intrusion and his lids scrunch together when he does. “Shit, sorry,” he mutters as he stills. “That wasn't… Couldn't help it. Did I hurt you?”
Your hands intertwine behind his neck as you shake your head and relax, getting used to the stretch. “No, it's alright.”
He leans in for a kiss, tongue twisting against yours as he pulls his hip back before he thrusts into you again. He sighs with each move, groaning when your lips part. Gripping your hips as he leans back, he holds you in place, fucking into you with force now and his eyes roll back like he’s losing himself in the feeling. “Always so fucking tight for me.”
The noise of your combined moans, your high pitched whines and his low grunts fill the room, accompanied by the quieter sound of his groin snapping against yours, quite like a beat to the carnal melody that the two of you are creating.
Yoongi slides his hands down your legs and moves them to drop your ankles upon his shoulders, creating an angle that allows him to go even deeper than before. You're gasping for air from how he plows into you, the roll of his hips making his cock drag across your g-spot with every thrust.
He grows frantic, spitting out curse words here and there before he takes your hand and guides it between your legs. “Make yourself come on my cock,” he directs with his head falling back between his shoulders. “That’s it baby, I can feel how close you are. Fucking squeezing me.”
He’s right, you are close again, now rubbing yourself in tight circles like he asked and it's like there's no air left in your lungs to exhale. Your muscles tense all over and you bite your tongue to relieve the pressure, watching him pump in and out of you over and over, a vein on his neck straining against his skin like it's about to burst.
“Come for me,” he groans, voice breaking to a tone so wrecked, you both know that no one will ever hear him sound like that but you.
You follow his command, it’s not like you have a choice, another orgasm crashing all over you and draining your mind from everything that isn't him inside of you. Limbs convulse and sweat drips down your temple as the shuddering waves ripple from your core throughout your whole body.
Your pussy clenches around him frantically and pulls him over the edge as well, so he can't help the moan from slipping out as his hips stutter with every spurt of cum that he fills you with. His head falls into the crook of your neck, breathing heavily against your sticky skin, still moving, still pressing himself in as deep as he can, like he wants to bury himself inside of you.
“Shit,” he curses, muffled and drawn out, panting and revelling in the feeling of your cunt still wrapped around him so tightly. “I’m never pulling out of you, just so you know.”
You chuckle as you bring your arms around his back, fingers playing with the hair on the nape of his neck. “You sure about that?”
He’s still breathing heavily and you feel his lips curl into a smile against your skin as he nods. “No doubt about it.” He lifts his head to look into your eyes. “Still mad at me?”
“Never was.”
Masterlist
A/N: Thank you so much for reading :] Please consider reblogging or commenting if you enjoyed, or if you're shy, feel free to send us an anonymous ask! <3
Genre - smut 18+, established relationship au, MDNI
Wc - 5k
Warnings - yoongi's brother's reception, secret relationship, yoongi's aunt wants to set reader for her son🤪, jealous yoongi, Explicit smut - Hard dom yoongi, sub reader, chocking, mirror sex, unprotected sex, degradation, man handling, fingering, face fucking, spiting in mouth, edging, crying, hair pulling, marking
The Min family estate is breathtaking, especially tonight. The glow of fairy lights, the grand chandeliers, with laughter and music filling the air.
You step out of the car, adjusting the delicate fabric of your dress. With one final glance at your reflection in the tinted window, you reach for your phone, fingers gliding over the screen.
You: just reached. where are you?
It takes only a few seconds before your boyfriend replies.
Yoon: 2nd floor. Left side of the hall
The moment you step inside it's filled with the scent of fresh flowers and expensive cologne. Your lips curve slightly as you push through the crowd, eyes scanning the space.
It doesn't take long for you to find him.
Min Yoongi, standing near the far end of the ballroom, eyes already locked onto you like a magnet.
He’s dressed in a tailored black suit, crisp and perfect. One hand is tucked into his pocket while the other lazily holds a glass of whiskey, but it’s his eyes that hold you captive.
Those dark eyes roam over you, starting from the waves of your hair down to the delicate curve of your neckline. They trail lower, taking in the way your dress hugs every inch of your body. His tongue peeks out, wetting his lips ever so slightly, making heat crawl up your skin.
Your phone buzzes again.
Yoon: You look beautiful
You bite your lip, glancing at him beneath your lashes.
You: And you look like trouble
The corner of his lips twitches, and even from across the room, you see the slight shake of his head.
A familiar voice calls your name.
“Finally! We were starting to think you weren’t coming.”
You turn to see your friends waving you over. You weave through the crowd smiling, and join them, instantly enveloped in chatter.
Taehyung’s already halfway through his drink, Jimin’s adjusting his blazer and Hoseok is grinning at you.
“You look stunning,” Jimin remarks. “Bet someone over there is losing his mind right now,” he says, giving you a knowing smirk.
You roll your eyes, but the heat creeping up your neck betrays you. “Would you shut up?”
“Oh, come on,” Hoseok teases.
You can't deny though, because you can feel it too. Yoongi’s gaze.
“Must be so hard pretending you two aren’t together,” Taehyung adds, sighing dramatically. “Poor Yoongi hyung, watching you like a lovesick fool but having to act all cool and composed.”
You shake your head, laughing softly. “We’ll tell his parents when we’re ready.”
And that’s the truth. His family is traditional, full of expectations, while Yoongi never cared much for their opinions. But still, you asked to wait before telling them. And he agreed, because this decision was yours to make together.
A fresh round of laughter pulls you from your thoughts, and you join in easily.
“Yoongi hyung!” Taehyung exclaims a bit dramatic, grinning as he lifts his glass.
Yoongi huffs, sliding effortlessly, his fingers grazing your waist just enough to make your breath hitch but not enough to be noticed by anyone else. His way of saying hi when he can’t say it out loud.
He just leans in slightly, his breath warm against your ear as he murmurs, just for you to hear, “You do look beautiful.”
And just like that, you’re gone.
----
The function moves along in a blur of clinking glasses, lively conversations. Yoongi -ever the reluctant center of attention, eventually takes the stage for a speech. His voice carrying warmth as he speaks about his brother and new beginnings.
And then, as quickly as he appeared, he’s swept away, pulled into conversations that demand his time- relatives, business associates.
Meanwhile, you remain with your friends. Jimin recounts a particularly embarrassing memory from their younger days, making Taehyung groan dramatically. Easy laughter fills amongst you.
After some time, you make your way toward the drinks table, the glass in your hand nearly empty. As you tilt your glass for a refill, a voice almost too-sweet cuts through the noise.
“My, my… such a lovely young woman all alone at the drinks table?”
You glance up, meeting the keen eyes of a lady, dressed in an elegant hanbok.
“You must be close to the Min family,” she continues, stepping beside you, her smile never faltering. “I don’t believe we’ve had the pleasure of speaking yet.”
Your fingers pause around the stem of your glass, momentarily confused. You’re certain you’ve never seen her before. Not the few gatherings that you've attended along with your mutual friends, neither in any of the rare photos Yoongi has shared with you. But still, you offer a polite smile and a slight bow in greeting.
“Ah.. I’m sorry, I don’t believe we’ve met before,” you say. “But it’s lovely to meet you.”
She lets out an amused laugh, “Oh, dear, that’s because I don’t visit often,” she says, waving a delicate hand. “But I am part of the family. Yoongi’s aunt.”
Your grip on your glass tightens just slightly. Yoongi’s aunt. You nod politely, offering a small smile. “Oh, I see. It’s nice to meet you. I'm Han Y/n.”
She hums, eyes scanning you in a way that feels far too observant. “I noticed you earlier with Yoongi’s friends,” she says, taking a delicate sip of her drink. “You seem quite close to them.”
“They’re good friends of mine,” you reply keeping your tone light.
She hums again, a knowing glint in her eyes. “You’re quite a lovely girl. Well-mannered, and beautiful too.” Her voice is warm, almost too sweet. “It’s a shame someone in the family hasn’t snatched you up already.”
You blink, caught slightly off guard by her sudden comment. “Oh?”
She nods, setting her glass down on the nearby table. “My son, Seojun-ah—my brilliant boy. He just returned from New York a few months ago. Studied and worked there for years. Hardworking boy.” She smiles as she continues, “In my opinion... you two would make a wonderful pair.”
Ah. So that’s where this is going.
You school your expression, forcing a polite smile. “That’s... kind of you to say.”
She leans in slightly, lowering her voice as if sharing a secret. “He’s single, you know. And someone like you—” she gestures vaguely, as if you’re the perfect ideal, “—would be perfect for him.”
You grip your glass a little tighter, willing yourself to stay calm. “That’s flattering,” you reply, carefully measured. “But I’m not really looking for anything like that right now.”
Her smile falters for only a fraction of a second before she recovers, waving a hand. “Oh, nonsense. A woman like you shouldn’t be single for long.” She tilts her head, watching you closely. “Unless, of course... you’re already seeing someone?”
Just as you part your lips to respond, a familiar voice cuts in.
“Auntie, where have you been so long!?”
You turn to see Taehyung, his signature smile already in place as he slides into the conversation.
The aunt’s face lights up in recognition. “Oh, Taehyung! It’s been so long. Look at you! so handsome as always.”
The woman chuckles, tilting her head toward you. “I was just asking her if she’s single or maybe interested in meeting my son.” Her tone is light with teasing.
“Oh, she’s totally single.”
Your head snaps toward him, eyes widening in silent betrayal. He doesn’t even try to hide the amusement in his gaze.
The aunt's face lights up with excitement at Taehyung’s words. “Really? That’s wonderful!” She claps her hands together, already looking around. “Let me introduce you to Seojun. He must be here somewhere.”
Your heart stutters, a flicker of panic rising in your chest. Shit.
You shoot Taehyung a murderous glare, but the bastard only sips his drink, eyes glinting with pure mischief. You know he’s enjoying this way too much.
“That’s really not necessary—” You start, voice edged with nervous laughter, but the aunt isn’t even listening. Her eyes scan the ballroom eagerly, as if his son will magically appear at any moment.
“Well, this sounds like a lovely setup, but I promised someone a dance,” Taehyung, your so-called friend is already retreating with a shit-eating grin. “Have fun, you two!”
Your glare could burn holes through him, but he’s gone before you can protest. Your fingers tighten around your glass. You need to find a way out of this. Fast.
“There he is! Seojun-ah!” The aunt’s delighted voice rings out as she waves eagerly.
Your stomach drops as a man maybe around Yoongi's age, turns toward the call, eyes narrowing in confusion before he approaches.
He’s tall, well-dressed, and honestly quite handsome, but that’s not the issue. The issue is that you know exactly what’s happening, and by the look on his face when his mother introduces you, so does he.
"This is Y/n, sweetheart!” his mother exclaims, practically radiating excitement. “Such a lovely girl. You two should chat, I have a feeling you’ll get along very well.”
“I’ll leave you to it! No need to thank me,” she's disappearing into the crowd before either of you can react.
Seojun chuckles nervously, rubbing the back of his neck. “I—I’m sorry,” he says, shaking his head. “I know what my mom’s trying to do..” His eyes flicker with mild embarrassment before he sighs. “Sorry if she made you uncomfortable. You really don’t have to entertain this.”
He seems genuinely shy, his words coming out in a rushed ramble as he struggles to navigate the awkward situation.
You offer him a small smile, trying to ease his nerves. "I wasn’t expecting it, but..” You glance around briefly, hoping for an escape. “She seems too... enthusiastic?”
Seojun lets out a breathy laugh, shaking his head. “That’s one way to put it.” He takes a sip of his drink, still looking slightly mortified. “She’s been on this matchmaking spree lately. Thinks it’s her life’s mission to get me married off.”
You chuckle at that.
Meanwhile, across the ballroom, Yoongi strides back toward your group, his gaze scanning for you instinctively. But a frown tugs at his lips.
“Where is she?”
Jimin and Hoseok exchange glances, poorly hiding their amused smirks. Taehyung, however, doesn’t bother to hold back his laughter.
“Oh, hyung,” he drawls, draping an arm over Yoongi’s shoulder dramatically. “Your dear girlfriend is currently on her way to becoming your sister-in-law.”
Jimin finally loses it, chuckling as he nods toward the far side of the room. “One of your aunts decided she’d be the perfect match for Seojun.”
Hoseok chimes in, shaking his head. “She just pulled her aside like it was fate.”
Yoongi’s eyes flicker towards where you stand. The moment he spots you, with Seojun, no less, looking all polite and engaged in conversation and that makes something sharp coils in his chest.
His fingers flex, tightening around his wine glass, an odd heat creeping up his spine.
It’s irrational, really. He knows you. Knows you’re probably just being your usual, kind self. But the fact that someone else—some other man—is standing in front of you, looking at you like you’re something to consider, doesn’t sit well with him.
Seojun is laughing lightly, and you’re chuckling too—chuckling.
“Hyung,” Taehyung drawls, watching the way his expression darkens. “You good?”
Yoongi doesn’t answer, face almost unreadable as he downs the rest of his drink in one smooth motion.
You offer Seojun a polite smile, searching for a way to wrap this up without seeming rude. "It was nice talking to you, but I should get back to my friends," you say lightly.
Seojun, still a little flustered from the situation his mother put him in, nods quickly. "Oh, of course! Yeah, no worries," he says, "Enjoy the rest of the night."
You give him a small nod before turning away as relief washes over you. The moment you step closer to your group, the playful energy among them is unmistakable.
Taehyung is already smirking ready to tease, but before he can open his mouth, you shoot him a glare that makes him chuckle instead.
“So, how was your first meeting with your future husband?”
You shoot him a dry look. “Shut up.”
Jimin snickers beside you. “You two really did look good together, though.”
You roll your eyes, shifting slightly on your feet. Yoongi sets his drink down and just as you open your mouth, “Yoongi—”
He doesn’t answer. Instead, he simply mutters, “Excuse me,” and turns away, heading toward a group of guests like nothing just happened.
Huh?
Did he just.. walk away? Just like that?
You stare at his retreating back, your lips parting slightly in disbelief. This man. You weren’t even the one who dragged yourself into that conversation with the guy. It’s not like you were flirting! If Yoongi’s gonna be all broody and distant over something that wasn’t even your fault—
You huff, crossing your arms. If he wants to play the ignoring game, so will you.
The lights dim, the dance floor filled with soft music. Even Yoongi’s parents share a brief dance, their laughter blending with the sweet ambiance of the evening.
Yet, Yoongi still hasn’t spoken to you since he left. Not that you care.
The crowd stands watching, some cheering for the dancing couples. Just as you shift, thinking about moving elsewhere, someone stumbles into you.
“Oh, I’m so sorry,” the person says quickly. You turn to see Seojun, his eyes widening slightly in surprise before he chuckles.
“It’s okay,” you say, offering a small smile. He seems like he’s about to excuse himself when you hear a very familiar voice beside him.
“Oh my! I knew it!” she exclaims excitedly. “You two were bound to click!”
Your stomach drops.
She's already nudging her son towards you.
“Ask her to dance!” she insists, practically beaming.
Your eyes widen slightly, panic bubbling up. How the hell do you keep finding yourself in these situations tonight?
He almost pleads with his eyes for his mother to let it go, but she remains insistent, nudging both of you onto the dance floor.
Realizing there’s no way out, Seojun clears his throat, his shyness giving way to a small smile.
“Would you like to dance?” he asks.
Your heart beats faster—definitely not from excitement but from sheer disbelief at how the night keeps unfolding.
Yoongi was busy handling some final wedding details when Namjoon nudges his arm.
"Isn't that Y/n?"
Yoongi’s eyes flicker towards the dance floor, scanning the crowd until they land on you.
And just like that, his entire demeanor shifts.
There you were, on the dance floor. With Seojun. His arm lightly placed on your waist while your hand rested in his. Yoongi watched as you let out a small laugh, though your body language still seemed slightly stiff. That didn’t matter.
The sight of you with someone else was enough to make something simmer inside him.
"Damn…you look like you’re about to murder someone." Namjoon chuckled.
"Shut up, Joon."
Your laughter fades slightly, and almost instinctively, as your eyes flicker over to Yoongi’s.
The second your gazes meet, your breath catches. His darkened eyes are locked onto you. Even from across the room, the weight of his stare is suffocating. His grip on his drink is tight, jaw clenched. You can practically feel the tension radiating off him.
Seojun says something with a chuckle, "I don't think we've had a formal introduction, I'm Min Seojun—"
But you barely register it. Your heartbeat picks up, and suddenly you’re hyperaware of everything. The placement of Seojun’s hand, the closeness of the dance, the way Yoongi’s expression darkens further with each passing second.
You take a deep breath, deciding you’ve had enough. You quickly scan the crowd, searching for Yoongi's aunt, hoping she’s wandered off elsewhere. When you don’t spot her, you take it as your cue to end this.
Slipping out of Seojun’s light hold, you step back offering him a polite but firm smile. “I'm sorry, I think I should leave—”
You turn before finishing, weaving your way through the mass of people to find an open space away from the dance floor. The air feels cooler here, giving you a brief moment to collect yourself. Just as you exhale, a hand wraps around your wrist.
“Y/n,” Seojun’s voice is gentle as he calls out, his grip enough to make you turn around.
“I… are you free this weekend?” he asks suddenly, his voice steady despite the slight pink dusting his cheeks.
You blink, completely taken aback.
The last thing you expected was for him to ask you out. Your lips part, ready to form a rejection—
But you don’t get the chance.
Because before you can even utter a word, another hand snatches yours away from Seojun’s grasp.
“She’s not.”
Your breath catches as you whip your head around, your wide eyes meeting Yoongi’s. His fingers are wrapped securely around your hand. His jaw is clenched, the muscle ticking as his stormy gaze remains locked onto Seojun.
The voice was filled with an unmistakable edge which startles Seojun, clearly caught off guard. His gaze flickers between the two of you, slowly processing the situation—the way Yoongi's hand hold yours.
“Oh…okay,” Seojun mutters after a beat, letting out a slight awkward chuckle. His eyes dart to you once more, lingering for a second before he turns back to Yoongi.
“See ya around, Hyung,” he says, forcing a half-smile before finally stepping away.
You glance up at your boyfriend, your voice barely above a whisper.
“Yoongi—”
“Don't."
Yoongi’s grip on your wrist is possessive as he tugs you through the crowd. Your heart pounds in your chest, the buzz of music and laughter fading into the background as he leads you down the dimly lit hallway.
His silence is deafening, the tension in the air between you growing further.
“Yoongi—” You try to call his name, but he doesn’t stop, doesn’t even look back. His fingers tighten around your wrist just enough to make you swallow your words. You don’t know if it’s jealousy, anger, or something deeper that’s driving him right now.
A door swings open, and Yoongi pulls you inside. Turning you around and pressing you against the slammed door.
“You think this is funny?”
His arms cage you in, palms flat beside your head as he leans in. His breath is warm against your skin, but there’s nothing soft about the way he speaks.
Your voice wavers slightly. “Yoongi.. I - your aunt forced us to dance—”
“Forced you?” he repeats, his tone laced with disbelief, his dark gaze flickering between your lips and your eyes. “Did she force you to smile at him too? To let him touch you?”
“It wasn’t like that,” you say quickly, your hands pressing lightly against his chest, but he doesn’t budge. His body is warm, and his scent fucking intoxicating.
Yoongi scoffs, his fingers curling against the door beside your head. “Then what was it like, huh?” His voice is lower now, rough with something unreadable. “Because from where I stood, it sure as hell looked like you were enjoying yourself.”
You blink up at him, your heart hammering. “You know I didn't mean it any other way,” you defend, your voice softer now.
Yoongi exhales sharply through his nose, his tongue swiping over his lower lip in frustration.
You barely get his name out before his lips crash onto yours, cutting off whatever you were about to say. A shocked gasp escapes you, but he doesn’t give you a second to process as his hands grip your waist, pulling you impossibly close as his lips move against yours with almost a punishing force.
Your fingers tighten around his blazer. His body presses against yours. The kiss is fiery, nothing like the gentle ones he’s given you before.
His teeth graze your lower lip, and you whimper softly, your knees nearly buckling.
Yoongi growls lowly at the sound, one of his hands sliding up to cup your jaw, tilting your face so he can deepen the kiss. His tongue brushes against yours, stealing the breath from your lungs, making your head spin.
“Do you have any idea what you do to me?” His voice low, as he growls.
You look up at him, panting softly, yet eyes laced with something playful. You’ve never seen Yoongi this worked up. In all the years you’ve been together, he’s always been the calm one. But fuck, seeing him loose his cool, it’s turning you on more than you care to admit.
“Didn’t know you could be this jealous,” you murmur a breathless whisper meant to provoke.
Yoongi’s eyes narrow, his jaw ticking.
“Don’t test me, princess,” he breathes, his voice low with warning as his hand slowly wraps around your throat, enough to make you feel the warmth.
“You don’t want to play with fire.”
Your breath hitches at the sensation, but the way your thighs clench in response betrays your thoughts.
“But I want to,” you whisper.
And just like that, the last thread of restraint snaps within Yoongi.
Yoongi’s breath fans against your ear as he leans in, voice like gravel. “You asked for it.”
A low groan rumbles from deep in his chest as he tugs you to the mirror counter, spinning you around, pressing his body flush against yours.
His hands grip the zipper of your dress, yanking it down roughly. The fabric pools at your feet, leaving you standing there in your panties and bra. You catch your breath, eyes wide as his hungry gaze roams over you.
He bends you forward over the counter, one hand steadying your waist. Then, with a ruthless flick, he shoves your panties down, tearing them in the process.
You gasp sharply, “Yoongi!”
“I’ll buy you new ones.”
His fingers already dig inside you, rough, stroking deep and fast. You moan his name, your body arching involuntarily against the counter.
He curls his fingers, pressing that perfect spot inside you while his thumb rubs fiercely over your clit. The sensations swirl and crash through you. Your fingers tangle into his long hair, nails scraping against his scalp as you moan his name, breathless and desperate.
His free hand grips your thigh, keeping you spread open for him. You can’t control the soft cries that slip past your lips, but the sound only makes him work you harder.
Biting down on his shoulder, you try to muffle your moans, he growls, hands gripping your jaw, forcing you to meet his eyes. “My little slut, aren't you” he hisses, voice dripping with raw possession. “Always soaking wet for me.”
Your moans grow louder, trembling on the edge. He pulls his fingers out abruptly, leaving you aching and desperate.
“Get on your knees.”
Your legs are wobbly but you obey without hesitation.
He unzips his pants, the sight of him already driving you wild. His cock stands hard and proud, and you feel a fresh rush of heat flood your core.
Yoongi’s gaze never leaves you as he grips himself slowly stroking that make your breath catch.
He cups your chin with another hand tilting your head up.
“Open.” Yoongi leans in, spitting into your mouth. You swallow instinctively, meeting his gaze with a mix of submission and desire.
“Good girl.”
Yoongi’s gaze burns down at you, eyes sharpening as they lock onto yours. His fingers slide under your chin, tilting your face up like you belonged to him, because you fucking do.
“You know the safe word, right?”
You swallow hard, nerves and need tangling together as you nod.
He pushes forward, sliding into you with a deliberate force that took your breath away.
His hand finds your hair, fingers threading firmly through the strands, pulling you closer. “Look at you,” he growls under his breath, his hips rolling deeper. “Taking me so well.”
His lips part in a guttural groan, head tilting back.
“Fuck...” he breathed out, voice ragged, “That mouth is made for me, yeah.”
He was claiming you with every thrust, every touch, every breath, and you knew you were exactly where you belonged.
Your throat tightens further with each controlled roll of his hips, the stretch forcing little whimpers from you.
A choked gag slips out as he sinks deeper.
You blink up through watery lashes, lips stretching around him as you look up at him, cheeks flushed, eyes glassy.
His own gaze burned into yours.
“Fuck,” he hisses, slipping his cock out.
You gasp at the loss, lips swollen.
You let out a soft, startled sound as he hoists you up onto the cool counter, your back hits the mirror behind the vanity, and Yoongi stands between your thighs.
His palm slide up the inside of your thigh, forcing them open wider.
He drags the swollen head of his cock along your folds, slick with your arousal. His other hand came to your jaw. One deep thrust and you cry out his name, and Yoongi captures it in a messy kiss.
Your gasp was sharp, ripped straight from your lungs as he bottomed out inside you, the stretch making your eyes squeeze shut—but Yoongi didn’t let you hide.
His body was pressed tightly between your thighs, the sound of skin meeting skin echoing in the steamy glass.
“Look at you,” he growls, thrusting hard, “Fucking dumb on my cock.”
You whimper in response.
“You think anyone else could fuck you like this?” he hisses, lips brushing your ear.
You shook your head frantically, tears finally slipping down your cheeks, “N-No, Yoongi—only you.”
“That’s right,” he growled, pace unrelenting. “You’re mine. This sweet little pussy, all mine."
He grabs your thighs, hoisting you closer to the edge as his thrusts turns downright brutal.
Your head falls back with a sobbed moan, mouth open, drool trailing from the corner of your lips as your walls clenched tighter.
“I—Yoongi, I’m close,” you gasp, voice high and wrecked, each breath punched out of you with the way he slams into you over and over, your thighs trembling around his hips.
Of course he knows. He feels the way you’re fluttering around him, pulling him in, desperate to tip over.
“Not yet,” he growls, voice rough in your ear.
You let out a broken sound, frustration spilling into a sob, your nails digging into his shoulders. But he’s already pulling out, your body twitching from the sudden emptiness.
Yoongi grabs your waist and slides you off the counter.
Your legs barely hold you up as he spins you around, your palms splayed on the mirror, your cheek flushed against the surface. His hand guides your hips back, arching you until you’re right where he wants you.
One ruthless thrust that has your eyes flying open, a loud, helpless moan spilling from your lips. “Fuck,” you cry out, your breath fogging the mirror. “Yoongi—”
His mouth finds your neck, teeth sinking into your skin with a sharp bite that has you clenching around him instantly.
He groans at that, sucking a mark into your skin.
“Mine,” he snarls against your throat.
His hand slides up your chest, your sternum and closes firmly around your throat. His body is burning against yours, muscles tense, heat radiating between you.
“Open your eyes,” he growls.
Your lashes flutter. You look wrecked. Your gaze meets his through the mirror. Yoongi's dark eyes locked onto you, jaw clenched as he rasps against your ear.
“The only Min you’ll ever get is this one.”
You clench around him so hard it makes both of you groan. Your legs buckle, body begging to come undone.
“You wanna come, baby?” he whispers. “Say it.”
The grip on your throat sends heat straight through you. You nod, trembling, as your voice cracks, “Y-Yes, Yoongi please—”
His free hand slides down your front, trailing between your thighs, already soaked and trembling and finds your clit.
Your moan was filthy, echoing off the walls. You couldn't even try to bite it back.
If anyone was outside the door, there’d be no doubt about what was happening in here. The obscene sounds of his hips slamming into you, your cries, was undeniable. Yoongi didn’t care. In fact, it only spurred him on. “Louder,” he hissed into your ear. “Let them fucking hear who owns you.”
His fingers moved in merciless, dragging you faster toward the edge than you could handle.
You couldn’t breathe.
You couldn’t think.
Your body trembled so hard it was barely standing, your palms slipping on the mirror as you braced yourself, tears sliding down your flushed cheeks. His cock pounded into you, filling you so deep you swore you felt him everywhere.
You sobbed out his name, gasping.
And Yoongi was right there, mouth at your ear, voice low and dark as sin.
“Come for me, baby. Ruin this mirror. Ruin yourself."
Your orgasm hits you so intense it robs you of breath. Your body locks up, trembling hard around him, and you scream his name like it’s the only word you know, your voice shattering under the force of it. Your walls pulse around him, clenching with desperate rhythm, and he groans.
“Fuck, that’s it,” he growls through clenched teeth, hips crashing against you one final time. “All mine.”
He buries himself deep spilling inside you with a broken curse.
His forehead drops against the side of your head.
Tears stream down your face from the overwhelming release, legs barely holding you upright.
His cock still twitches inside you.
He slips out of you carefully, catching your body as it slumps forward, cradling you against his chest. His hand rubs soothing circles over your bare back.
“Shhh,” he murmurs, voice hoarse, lips brushing your temple. “You did so fucking good. I got you.”
Your tears wet his neck as you try to calm down. His thumb brushes your cheek, catching the tear trails.
“You okay?” he asks quietly.
You nod, sniffling as he’s rubs your back.
“I might intentionally piss you off sometime if it gets you like this.” You manage to speak after a moment.
You feel him pause for a second. Then a dangerous chuckle rumbles from his chest, as he looks down at you.
Those dark eyes flicker with something primal, half warning, half promise.
He brushes his thumb over your bottom lip, as leans in.
“Don’t tempt me,” he murmurs, eyes locked on yours. “Because you know I’ll fucking ruin you all over again.”
Your thighs clench involuntarily. When Min Yoongi says that, you know he means it.
— playlist: moment's silence (common tongue) - hozier, love me harder - ariana grande, honey - kehlani, adorn - miguel, don't - crush, waves - dean
— summary: After two weeks apart, you come home from Bali sun-kissed and full of stories—except none of them compare to the warmth of Yoongi’s arms. He wrote you a song. You brought back tequila, a TikTok trick he has no idea about, and a plan you executed after a terrible week strictly for morale.
Yoongi never stood a chance.
— word count: 9.9k
— warnings: lovey dovey couple, they're so in love, little fluffly at the beginning but they're always horny (i get them), established relationship, tequila shots?, yoongi missing oc, oc missing yoongi, unprotected sex, dirty talk?, cunnilingus, little rough, multiple orgasms, jealous yoongi if you squint.
— note: HELL YEAH! so this was fun to write because it was born, like most of the things i write, from a personal experience with tequila shots. wanna thank miss salma hayek for letting us know The Trick to get a man like that. i miss you yoongi (thank god he'll be back soon). FIRST YOONGI ONE SHOT BTW CROWD CHEERED.
Yoongi has always been sure of two things. Well—always is a strong word. Maybe lately is more honest. Certainty doesn’t come easy to him; it’s something he’s had to fight for, inch by inch, thought by thought. But here, in this quiet moment—his fingers idle on the keys, a half-finished verse echoing in his mind—he knows these things like he knows his own name.
One: he loves music. Not in the cliché way people throw around the word love, but in the way it threads through the cracks in his chest and holds the broken parts together. It’s been his anchor, his escape, his language when he couldn’t find the right words. Music has never asked him to be more than what he is. It just lets him be.
Two: he really, truly, fucking loves you. It’s terrifying, how real that is. How permanent it feels. Like it’s carved into him somewhere deep. You came into his life without warning, without fanfare—and now you’re in the pauses between his breaths, in the silence between his notes. He doesn’t know when it happened, but loving you feels inevitable now. Like it always would’ve come to this, no matter the path.
Three—was there a three? Yeah because now, standing here at the airport, watching you walk toward him, duffel slung over your shoulder, smile cracking through the jetlag—he knows something else, too.
He’s really fucking glad you’re home.
You nudge him gently, your fingers brushing against the fabric of his hoodie sleeve as he sits hunched over his laptop, headphones around his neck, the room bathed in dim yellow light and the faint scent of coffee and something else uniquely him.
“Yoongi,” you say, voice soft with that teasing affection only he ever gets to hear.
He glances over, the corner of his lips twitching into a tired smile—one of those barely-there ones that still makes your chest warm. His eyes, though, tell a different story: they flicker with something like relief. Like seeing you in front of him makes the past two weeks fall away.
“I wanna hear the full song?” you ask, and then you hesitate just a beat, voice quieter, more vulnerable: “Missed you.”
That’s when he turns fully, shutting the laptop with a quiet click. His eyes don’t leave yours.
“I missed you, too,” he says, and it’s not just words—he means it. His voice carries that low, slow sincerity you know he only lets out when he’s too tired to hide anything. “House felt empty. Bed felt colder.”
You laugh softly, settling down beside him on the couch, your thigh pressing lightly against his. “You could’ve texted more, you know.”
“I know,” he murmurs, and his hand finds yours, thumb brushing over your knuckles. “Didn’t want to bother you. You were having fun.”
“I was,” you admit, leaning your head on his shoulder. “But it didn’t feel right without you. Kept looking over like I was gonna see you sitting next to me.”
He lets out a breath, quiet and shaky. “I kept hearing your voice in my head when I was working. Thought I was losing it.”
You grin. “Maybe you are.”
He finally laughs—low and real. Then he squeezes your hand and says, “Let me play you the song. I finished it... the night before you came back. It’s about you.”
Your heart skips, just a little. “Of course it is.”
And in the soft silence that follows, he slips the headphones over your ears and presses play, watching your face as if every beat and lyric matters more now, because you’re home. And so is he.
The music washes over you like a wave—warm, layered, intentional. It’s him in every note: the way he composes with feeling first and logic second, the subtle textures, the pause right before the chorus that somehow says more than words.
And the lyrics? God. They’re not even overly romantic, but they are him—honest and understated and impossibly vulnerable. There’s a line in the second verse that pulls something tight in your chest. Something about “empty spaces filled by the weight of a laugh I forgot I needed.” And another one, quiet, tucked into the bridge, that just says: “You made room where I didn’t know I had any left.”
When it ends, you don’t say anything for a moment. You just breathe. His hands are resting on his thighs now, and you can tell from the way he’s chewing the inside of his cheek that he’s nervous.
You blink a few times, then take off the headphones slowly, setting them aside. “Yoongi,” you say, voice soft, caught somewhere between awe and teasing, “are you trying to kill me? Be honest.”
He raises an eyebrow. “Emotionally or musically?”
You snort, nudging him with your shoulder. “Both, obviously. That was… wow. I don’t even have the words.”
“That’s ironic, coming from someone who works with words all day,” he says, smirking just slightly, but his eyes are searching—worried.
You look at him. “I’m serious. That was beautiful. It felt like…” You pause, pressing your lips together before letting the truth out: “Like you cracked open your chest and just—let me see everything.”
Yoongi shrugs, but it’s the kind of shrug he does when he’s trying to be chill and failing. “Yeah, well. Took me long enough to say all that. Figured I’d just put it in a track before I chickened out.”
You lean in, forehead touching his. “You’re still such a coward sometimes,” you whisper, smiling against his skin.
“I know,” he murmurs. “But you waited for me anyway.”
You both go quiet for a second. The kind of silence that doesn’t ask to be filled. The kind you only get with someone who knows you inside out.
“I was gonna say,” you continue, pulling back just enough to look at him, “funny how this all started with you awkwardly avoiding eye contact that night we met at Hobi’s thing.”
Yoongi groans. “Don’t remind me. I was not avoiding eye contact.”
“You literally stared at the floor the whole time.”
“I was tired.”
“You were shy.”
He rolls his eyes, but there’s no heat behind it. “And you were so annoyingly composed. Sitting there with your editor brain probably judging my entire existence.”
“I was not judging,” you say, laughing now. “I was intrigued. You were the only one in the room who looked like they wanted to be somewhere else.”
He smiles again—smaller this time, realer. “Yeah. Then you sat next to me and started talking about existentialism and short stories and somehow I didn’t want to leave.”
You grin. “And then we spent the next year pretending we weren’t falling in love during every 3 a.m. conversation.”
Yoongi’s hand finds yours again, and this time he lifts it to his lips, pressing a kiss to your knuckles. “You didn’t pretend very well, by the way.”
“Oh?” you tease.
He nods. “You kept looking at me like you were already writing a story about us.”
You shrug. “Maybe I was.”
Then, quieter, you add: “But I like your version better.”
You and Yoongi have been together for over two years now. That’s not even counting the year before—when you both clung to the idea of just friends like it was some kind of lifeline, even as everything between you said otherwise. Late-night calls, shared silences, too-long stares, the kind of conversations that felt like peeling each other open, layer by layer.
Everyone saw it. Except, apparently, you and him.
Or maybe you did see it. Maybe you were just scared to name it.
Either way, it all came to a head one night—tangled sheets, hearts racing, a confession slipping out in the dark like it had been waiting all that time just to be said out loud. And after that, well… the rest unraveled beautifully.
“It was bound to happen,” Hoseok had said with a grin so wide it felt smug. “Honestly, I was just waiting for one of you to crack. You were already acting like a married couple and you hadn’t even kissed yet.”
Seokjin, ever the dramatist, had clapped a hand on Yoongi’s shoulder and told you both, “You don’t understand. This guy? He doesn’t react to people. He nods at introductions and moves on. But you? You walked into the room at that party and he looked up. That’s practically a love letter coming from him.”
Namjoon had agreed, of course—more calm, more analytical, but just as insistent. “We’ve seen him hear a song he loves and still just blink. But when you spoke for the first time, he tilted his head, like he was trying to figure out a melody he didn’t want to forget.”
It sounds dramatic. Overblown. But you’ve lived with Yoongi long enough to know that his reactions aren’t always loud—but they’re deep. And real.
And now, two years in, you still catch him looking at you the same way he did back then—like he’s studying you, memorizing you, writing lyrics in his head that only you’ll ever get to hear.
You joke that he’s soft for you. He just shrugs and says, “Yeah. And?”
But there’s this quiet steadiness to it, too. Like after all the slow burn, the long talks, the almosts and maybes, you both found something solid. Something that doesn’t need to burn wildly all the time because it stays.
So yeah—Hoseok was right. It was bound to happen.
And now you both took a break.
Well—technically, you didn’t take a break. Let’s rewind. That makes it sound way more dramatic than it was.
You just went on a trip.
A girls’ trip. Bali. Sun-soaked beaches, endless laughter, fruity drinks with names you couldn't pronounce, and the kind of easy joy that only comes when you’re surrounded by women who love you like sisters. It was good. No—wonderful, even. It was the kind of trip you talk about for years after, the kind that feels like a pause from real life in the best possible way.
But still… you missed him.
You didn’t say it at first. You told yourself it was healthy—good, even—to have space. That it was nice not to be The Couple for once. You didn’t need to be that clingy type, right?
Right?
Except… it hit faster than you expected. Maybe on the second morning, when your coffee didn’t taste quite the same without his weirdly specific milk-to-coffee ratio. Maybe when someone cracked a joke and your instinct was to turn, to catch his eye across the table and share that look you always did when something was exactly your brand of funny. Maybe when you fell asleep without the weight of his arm slung around your waist and woke up reaching for someone who wasn’t there.
It was the first time you’d spent more than 48 hours apart since becoming officially, capital-B Boyfriend and capital-G Girlfriend—a title that felt funny on your tongue at first, but quickly became second nature. You weren’t all over each other all the time.
(Okay, you were. But like, in a wholesome, “I’d follow you into the kitchen just to steal a grape from your hand” kind of way.)
But it wasn’t just physical. That wasn’t it. You liked him. Genuinely. You liked being with him—liked how he made space for your chaos, how he listened like every word mattered, how he challenged you without ever making you feel small. You liked the quiet hours and the loud laughter and the strange little routines that made your life feel stitched together in all the right ways.
So yeah, Bali was gorgeous. Your girls were radiant. The food was incredible. But there was this quiet, persistent pull in your chest the whole time—a whisper that said, I wish he was seeing this too.
And now you’re back. Sitting beside him, knees brushing, headphones still warm from when he played you that song. And it hits you all over again:
You missed him. Not in a dramatic, world-ending way.
Just in the way you always miss home when you’ve been gone too long.
You’re still barefoot, half sunk into the old couch in the corner of the studio, hair a little messy from the flight, face flushed with excitement instead of exhaustion. You just listened to the song—his song—and you swear your ribcage is still vibrating from the last chord. But your mind’s already off, burning through memory, hands moving animatedly as you talk.
“Oh, babe,” you say, practically bouncing in your seat, “Bali was insane. I mean, the kind of beauty that doesn’t even feel real half the time. You’re walking down a street and suddenly there’s a temple just... there. No gates. No warning. Just stone and incense and a woman with silver hair weaving flower offerings like it’s the most normal Tuesday in the world.”
Yoongi hums from the swivel chair, eyes on you, chin in hand. You’re not even looking at him—you’re too wrapped up in everything you're trying to say at once. And god, you’re glowing.
“And the air?” you go on, laughing breathlessly, “Yoongi—it’s like the whole island is perfumed. Salt, frangipani, smoke, clove cigarettes—it gets in your clothes, in your hair. You become part of it. I haven’t felt that light in years. Like my whole body was being wrung out and re-threaded.”
He doesn’t say anything. Just watches. Quiet. Intense.
“And there was this one night,” you continue, tucking your feet under you. “We went to this hidden beach—like, you have to go down a billion steps that look like they’ve been carved by actual ghosts—and when we got there? Bonfire. Music. Locals playing guitar on these beat-up amps powered by a generator that sounded like it was dying.”
You grin, eyes flicking up to him for the first time. He’s still. Too still.
You push on, because you’re on fire now. “They handed us drinks—stuff made with arak and fruit juice, totally unregulated, I’m probably lucky I didn’t go blind—and they were just... flirting. Shamelessly. With everyone. Dami got asked to teach this guy how to salsa. Chaeyoung got proposed to with a mango. And I—” you pause, tilting your head, eyes dancing, “—I got called a goddess like, three times. Four, if you count the guy who kept asking if I wanted a moonlit shoulder massage.”
Yoongi's eyebrow twitches.
You notice. You smirk.
“Relax,” you tease. “I told him I was taken. Very taken. Like, off-the-market, emotionally-devoted, boyfriend-writes-me-songs kind of taken.”
His lips twitch, but the line of his jaw stays tight.
You lean forward a little. “Yoongi.”
He still doesn’t look at you.
“Yoongi,” you sing again, dragging out the vowels.
Finally, he lifts his eyes to yours, deadpan. “I’m just wondering why you remember how many times someone called you a goddess, but you can’t remember the name of the ramen place we went to three times in one week.”
You blink. Then you laugh. “Are you—oh my God, are you jealous?”
He shrugs like it’s nothing. “I’m just saying, you were gone for two weeks and apparently became the main character in a beach romance novel.”
“Well,” you hum, shifting closer, “I am a woman of many genres.”
He gives you a look. “Including ‘hot girl summer in Bali with mysterious shoulder-massaging men.’ Got it.”
You bite back another laugh, slide closer until your legs touch. “Would it make you feel better if I told you none of them had your voice? Or your hands? Or your devastating ability to turn missing someone into actual music?”
He doesn’t reply—but he’s listening.
You rest your chin on his shoulder. “I loved every minute of it. But I thought about you the whole time.”
His voice is lower now. “Even when someone was calling you a goddess?”
You grin. “Especially then.”
He exhales, finally, leaning back into you.
“You’re still annoyed,” you murmur, smiling.
“I wrote you a love song and you got proposed to with fruit,” he mutters.
You laugh against his neck. “Okay, that’s fair. But at least your song didn’t give me food poisoning.”
He finally cracks a smile.
And in the soft silence that follows, you slide your hand into his.
Back. Safe. Still burning—with the sun, with the music, with him.
The day after the studio session—after Yoongi had pulled you into his world and played you that new song with the kind of pride he rarely let show—you were finally home, finally grounded enough to unpack.
You’d brought back a mountain of things, mostly souvenirs for your friends. It wasn’t even guilt-buying; you just missed them. A lot.
You started sorting everything out on your floor, each item sparking a memory of someone’s laugh, someone’s oddly specific obsession.
For Namjoon, you had a set of handcrafted ceramics—delicate bowls and one oddly shaped mug you knew he’d appreciate in an “object with character” kind of way. He was into stuff like that: things with weight, texture, stories.
Seokjin’s little bundle was easier. He had this current fixation with coffee, and not just any coffee—he’d sent you the exact brand he wanted, grown somewhere at a particular altitude, roasted a certain way. You weren’t even sure how he found it, but you made the detour just for him. Worth it, you figured, for the chaos he’d unleash in the group chat once he got his hands on it.
Hoseok was getting the batik fabric you found in a tiny shop tucked away near the market. It had deep blues and burnt oranges—bold and beautiful, just like him. You already pictured him turning it into a jacket or draping it over something dramatically at a dance studio. And for his girlfriend, a delicate piece of handmade jewelry—silver with tiny amber stones, shaped like falling leaves. She was going to lose her mind over it.
Your own stuff? That took less time. You hadn’t packed much to begin with—mostly bikinis and breezy tops. The heat had practically demanded it. But you’d also picked up a bunch of new shorts, the kind that showed off your legs just enough. The thought made you grin.
You were definitely planning to wear them around Seoul soon.
Yoongi was definitely going to like them.
You were halfway through organizing your pile of clothes when your hand hit something solid near the bottom of your suitcase.
“Oh... right.”
Tequila.
Chaeyoung.
The memory hit you like the smell of lime and salt.
She’d shown up in Bali like a whirlwind—barely touched down in Seoul for the past eight months. She’d bounced from London to Chile, Argentina, and then Mexico, and somehow skipped straight to Bali to meet you all, suitcase in tow and stories practically spilling out of her mouth.
“I brought the best tequila for you girls,” she’d announced like it was gold. She held it up like a trophy, her sunglasses still on even though the sun had already dipped behind the trees.
“You’re gonna love it. I swear,” she added, unscrewing the cap to let you smell it right then and there.
Dami squinted at her, skeptical. “What do you mean best? Like—good flavor or good time?”
Chaeyoung had smirked. “Oh, babe, if I told you half the things I did after a couple of shots of this…”
“You’re crazy,” Taeha called out from the back patio.
“No, babe,” Chaeyoung said, eyes wild and glass already half-empty, “you’re gonna want to be crazy after I teach you this little trick. Trust me—this stuff? It’ll get your man on fire.”
The room paused, like it collectively sensed incoming chaos.
Jieun blinked. “Why does that sound illegal?”
“Because it probably is,” Dami whispered, crossing her arms like she was preparing for war.
Chaeyoung ignored both of them, too far gone. She slammed her glass down like she was about to present a scientific discovery. “Okay, LISTEN. I’m about to change all your lives.”
“Oh no,” Taeha muttered. “Not another ‘I saw a TikTok and now I’m a sex guru’ monologue—”
“SHUT UP and listen”, Chaeyoung snapped, already standing like a drunk prophet. “So I was in Mexico, okay? Had just eaten like...six tacos and a churro. I’m tipsy. This guy is rambling about the flavor notes in mezcal like he’s auditioning for MasterChef: Alcoholic Edition, and I’m scrolling TikTok minding my business—and BAM.”
She clapped loudly. Everyone jumped.
“This woman—an actress, like straight up goddess energy—comes up on my For You Page. And she’s like, ‘This is how you seduce a man in ten seconds or less.’ I didn’t even blink. I learned.”
“Stop,” Jieun begged, already wheezing. “I can’t breathe when you talk like this.”
“I’m serious!” Chaeyoung shouted. “You don’t need lingerie. You don’t need a playlist. You just need THIS.”
She grabbed a pillow off the couch and slammed it onto the floor like it owed her money. “Dami, you’re the man. Get over here.”
“No. Absolutely not.”
“DAMI. Get. Over. Here.”
By the time Dami crawled over, purely out of morbid curiosity, Chaeyoung was already miming the scene. She picked up her shot glass like it was sacred, locked fake-eyes with Dami, and whispered:
“You take the tequila. You hold it. You stare. Not blink. Not smile. Just stare like you’re about to commit emotional crimes.”
She mimed holding the shot in her mouth, then leaned toward Dami with cartoonishly intense eye contact.
“And THEN,” she continued, dramatically slow, “you pass it. Mouth. To. Mouth.”
The room exploded.
Jieun SCREAMED. “WHAT THE FUCK!!!”
“I SWEAR TO GOD I’M GONNA DIE,” Taeha said, curled into a ball.
Dami fell backward, shrieking. “Get off me, you demon woman!”
“I WAS DOING RESEARCH!” Chaeyoung yelled back, offended.
“YOU DID THIS TO SOMEONE?” you gasped.
“In the bathroom of a rooftop bar in Oaxaca!” she declared like she was announcing a Grammy win.
“WHAT.”
“WHATTTTTTTTT?!”
Jieun was hiding behind the couch now. “I cannot believe I have to know you.”
Chaeyoung, now fully unhinged, launched into a dramatic reenactment—flipping her hair, straddling the pillow like a man was beneath it. “Then we made out so hard I almost knocked a soap dispenser off the wall. I think there was applause outside. I don’t know. I blacked out from the POWER.”
“You need help,” Dami groaned, fanning herself.
“No, YOU need tequila and a man with low expectations,” Chaeyoung snapped, already pouring more shots. “Now, who’s next? Let’s practice. I’ll be the guy. Come on. Seduce me, cowards!”
You were crying from laughter. Your stomach hurt. Your soul hurt. Jieun looked like she was about to call a priest.
“Do we need to tell Yoongi about this?” Taeha asked you with an evil grin.
“No one tells Yoongi anything,” you said quickly, gripping your drink like it was your only protection.
Chaeyoung just smirked at you, devilish. “You’re gonna try it. I know you are.”
You just laughed—and avoided her gaze.
But she already knew.
Yeah, that bottle of tequila was now staring at you.
Oh, you were gonna have fun.
By the time Yoongi woke up—hair messy, hoodie slipping off one shoulder, blinking at you like you were a dream—it was nearly noon.
“You unpacked already?” he asked, voice raspy, warm with sleep.
“Trying to pretend I’m not still on Bali time,” you mumbled, smiling into your mug.
He padded over, kissed your temple, and muttered something about making tteokbokki.
And god, he really could cook.
You sat cross-legged on the counter while he moved through the kitchen with quiet confidence, slicing green onions, adding just the right amount of gochugaru like it was instinct. The rich, spicy scent filled the apartment, and when you finally sat down to eat, you could have cried from the comfort of it. After two weeks of fresh seafood and tropical fruits, having something that tasted like home—like Seoul, like him—felt grounding.
“Still like mine better than any Bali food?” he asked, smug as he watched you devour the last piece.
You licked your spoon. “No offense to Bali, but your tteokbokki is emotional support food. It wins.”
He grinned, that small, rare one that made your stomach flutter.
Now, hours later, the sun was setting outside the living room window. The city buzzed softly in the distance, but here in the apartment, it was calm—dim lights, a quiet movie playing, legs tangled under a shared blanket. Yoongi leaned into the cushions, one arm draped behind you, the other lazily scrolling through his phone during the slow parts.
“Should we open some wine?” he asked, his voice low, almost a hum.
“Only if you pick it,” you replied, resting your head on his shoulder.
He gave you a small pat on the thigh before heading over to the shelf tucked into the corner of the kitchen—a narrow unit lined with a modest but respectable collection of bottles. He crouched down, humming to himself, searching for the right red.
Then he paused.
“...What the hell is this?”
You turned your head.
Yoongi straightened slowly, holding up a sleek, unfamiliar bottle. The label was bright. Bold. Very not him.
He squinted at it. “Did this multiply in my apartment without my permission? I did not buy this.”
You bit your lip, trying very hard not to smile.
He turned to face you. “This yours?”
You gave him a sheepish nod.
He examined the label again, then looked at you with a mixture of suspicion and amusement. “Why... do you have a bottle of tequila hiding in my apartment?”
“Chaeyoung gave it to me,” you explained, as innocently as possible. “As a gift.”
Yoongi arched a brow. “That sounds fake. Try again.”
“Okay,” you admitted, slowly standing up, blanket falling from your lap. “It was part of a girls’ night... situation. Involving stories. And hypotheticals. And a very specific TikTok.”
Yoongi narrowed his eyes at you like he was trying to read subtitles you weren’t offering.
“…What kind of TikTok?”
You gave him a totally innocent smile. “A harmless one.”
“That’s never true,” he said flatly. “Every time someone starts a sentence with ‘so I saw this TikTok’ it ends in something insane or borderline illegal.”
You raised your hands in mock surrender. “Nobody got arrested. Nobody died. There were just... beverages. And discussions. That’s all.”
Yoongi held up the bottle like it was radioactive. “So this ended with you bringing back imported mystery tequila from girls' night? That’s the takeaway?”
“Don’t be dramatic,” you said, walking over and plucking the bottle from his hands. “It’s artisanal.”
“That’s not reassuring.”
“You act like I’m hiding a crime,” you teased, setting it carefully on the table.
“You are hiding something,” he muttered, still watching you suspiciously. “You’re way too smiley for this to be a normal ‘hey let’s have tequila’ situation.”
You shrugged, doing your best to look unbothered—even as your face threatened to betray you with another grin. “Maybe I just missed you and thought it’d be fun to have a drink together.”
“Uh-huh,” he said slowly, eyes narrowing like he was filing that line away for later. “Totally believable. No other reason. No hidden context.”
“Exactly.”
A pause.
Yoongi finally dropped back onto the couch beside you, still eyeing the bottle like it might start talking.
“You’re lucky I like you,” he muttered under his breath.
You nudged his knee with yours. “I am lucky.”
He glanced at you, then let out a small, exasperated laugh. “And now I’m low-key afraid to drink that.”
You leaned over and kissed his cheek. “Well, good thing we’re having wine right now.”
He shot you a look, but couldn’t help the amused smile tugging at his lips.
It had been a shitty week. No poetic metaphors, no dramatic flair. Just plain, exhausting, soul-sucking shit. Going back to work was shitty. As an editor at a publishing company, you were used to juggling deadlines, writer meltdowns, and 2 a.m. “urgent” revisions — but this week? This week decided to personally test your will to live.
By Friday, you were running on caffeine, petty rage, and whatever serotonin your cat videos could offer.
Thankfully, it was over. Finally.
You were curled up on the couch in an oversized hoodie, staring blankly at your phone while half a bag of chips sat forgotten beside you. Yoongi had texted earlier — be home in an hour, miss u — and even just that had been enough to keep you from combusting.
With a sigh, you opened your messages app, finally catching up on the chaos you’d ignored all week.
Your friends' group chat was on fire. Everyone was still riding the Bali high, posting blurry sunset photos, thirst traps in bikinis, and messages like:
Taeha: literally thinking about the nasi goreng at 3am
Jieun: my skin still glows like i bathed in tropical gods
Dami: WHEN are we doing round two. i need a new passport stamp and a new man. urgently.
Taeha: can we do Greece. or Spain. or literally anywhere with sun and drama.
You smiled, heart softening a little. Yeah. That trip was magic.
And then you saw it — a private message from Chaeyoung.
Chaeyoung💥:
[TikTok link]
“this is the visual representation of what i tried to explain that night LMAO”
“giving this to u cuz u r the only one with a man lol”
You tapped the link, suspicious.
The video started playing — and you immediately paused it, jaw dropping, face heating.
Oh. OH.
It was the exact tequila trick she’d so enthusiastically attempted to act out back in Bali. Except now, seeing it performed in real time — slow, hot, absolutely lethal — made something in your brain short-circuit. You blinked, stared at your phone like it betrayed you, then hit play again. For science.
The way the woman in the video straddled her man, the effortless way she passed the drink between their mouths, the almost moan he let out like it rewired his whole nervous system—
Yeah. You were watching this on a Friday night after getting metaphorically body-slammed by your job. You deserved joy. You deserved serotonin. And preferably, you deserved it in the form of your boyfriend, shirtless, on this very couch.
You:
chaeyoung.
what the hell. why r u sending me this
Chaeyoung:
DIDN’T I JUST SAID YOU R THE ONLY ONE WITH A MAN THAT YOU CAN CALL YOURS. SEE THE VISION
You:
i see it
i feel it
Chaeyoung:
YESSSS
get that man WEAK, babes.
You:
he’s coming home in 40
how fast do u think i can shower and emotionally prepare
Chaeyoung:
light the fucking torch.
You stared at the screen for a second, heart racing, lip caught between your teeth.
Well. You did just wash your hair last night. And your cute robe was clean. And that bottle Chaeyoung gave you? Still hiding behind the wine rack like a dirty little secret.
You stood up.
Time to turn this terrible week around—with tequila, TikTok tactics, and one very lucky boyfriend.
The apartment was dimly lit, cozy, and quiet—exactly the way Yoongi liked it after a long day. He kicked off his shoes by the door, ran a hand through his hair, and called out casually, “Babe? I’m home.”
No answer.
Well, no immediate answer.
Just the soft hum of music coming from the living room—something low and sultry. It wasn’t your usual playlist. This was a vibe.
He squinted. Suspicious.
“Babe?” he tried again, stepping further in. His jacket was halfway off his shoulders when he turned the corner—and stopped dead in his tracks.
You were in the living room. Waiting.
Correction: you were posed in the living room.
Wearing your favorite silk robe—one that barely grazed your thighs, tied in a loose, suspiciously flimsy knot. Candles flickered on the coffee table. Two glasses sat beside a bottle he definitely didn’t own.
“Hi,” you said sweetly, crossing one leg over the other as you sat perched on the edge of the couch like a perfectly wrapped sin.
Yoongi blinked. “...What the hell is going on.”
“Celebrating,” you answered, like it was obvious.
He raised a brow. “Celebrating what?”
“The end of a very horrible week,” you said, then added with a grin, “And also… you.”
Yoongi was now actively side-eyeing the bottle. “Is that—”
“The tequila,” you confirmed. “Yes.”
“I thought we said we were saving that for—”
“Plans change,” you cut in, voice light. “Besides, I have a new method. A fun one.”
He blinked at you again, slower this time. “Why does that sound threatening.”
“It’s not,” you said. “It’s sexy.”
You laughed, a little wild in your eyes, and patted the spot in front of you. “Sit. Trust me.”
Yoongi hesitated, that familiar wariness flickering behind his dark eyes like a warning siren—this was definitely going to be one of those moments. But as always, he couldn’t resist you. With a sigh, he shrugged off his jacket and dropped onto the couch, still shooting you a suspicious look. “You’re being weird.”
“I’m being generous,” you teased, voice low and mischievous.
You slid closer, your hands gentle but firm on his shoulders. “This is something I learned.” You practically straddled him, settling down on his lap with a confident smile.
Yoongi’s brows knit together, confused but intrigued. “What—”
“They said this is how tequila tastes the best,” you whispered, your fingers tracing the buttons of his shirt. “And since I know you really like your alcohol…”
You slowly hooked your finger into the top button of his shirt, eyes not leaving his face. “Can I unbutton this?”
Yoongi tilted his head slightly, lips curling in amusement. “Yes,” he replied, raising a brow as if to say whatever you're up to... I’m watching you.
With a sly little grin, you unfastened one button. Then the next. Then another. You were deliberate with it—fingers brushing his skin each time, exposing just enough of his chest to leave your mouth watering. His skin was warm, soft, and smelled faintly of the cologne he always wore. That scent you liked to steal from the collar of his sweaters.
You leaned in, holding the tequila shot glass loosely in your hand, and whispered—half to him, half to yourself, “And then I have to... huh... lick.”
You dipped your head and—without hesitation—flattened your tongue against the base of his neck. You dragged it slowly up, tracing a path over his collarbone and along the curve of his shoulder, right where the salt would go in the classic version. Except you weren’t following any rules.
Yoongi’s breath caught sharply. His hands, resting on your hips, twitched.
You leaned back, just enough to lock eyes with him. He looked stunned. Flushed. Slightly speechless.
Then, as if to really commit to the bit, you took the shot. Head tilted back, throat bobbing as the tequila slid down.
And finally—eyes on his—your hand reached out for the lime. But instead of putting it in your mouth, you brought it up to his lips.
“Bite,” you said softly.
He obeyed.
You leaned in one last time, stealing the lime back with a kiss that lingered longer than necessary, your lips brushing his in a mix of citrus and heat.
“Okay—where the hell?” Yoongi sputtered, blinking like he just came out of a trance. “What? Why? What the hell?”
He was flustered—genuinely flustered—and that was rare for him. A soft pink crept up the sides of his neck, and his chest was still rising and falling just a little faster than usual. You stayed exactly where you were, still straddling his lap, hands resting lightly on his now half-unbuttoned shirt like it was the most casual thing in the world.
You tilted your head innocently, though your smirk betrayed you. “This is why I wanted to save that bottle.”
Yoongi stared at you, eyes narrowing. “This is what that TikTok discussion was about?”
You leaned forward just enough so that your chest brushed his, your voice dropping to a whisper. “I told you it was educational content.”
He huffed a dry laugh, but his hands were already on your hips again, holding you tighter now. “Educational? Babe, you just licked me like a human salt rim and then kissed tequila into my mouth. That wasn’t education. That was witchcraft.”
You bit your lip, eyes gleaming. “Witchcraft that works, clearly.”
Yoongi’s gaze dropped to your lips, his breath catching slightly. You could feel him shifting beneath you, his composure unraveling by the second.
“You’re literally still on top of me,” he muttered, voice lower now, rougher.
“Mhm.” You rolled your hips just a tiny bit, enough to make his hands dig into your waist in warning. “On purpose.”
His eyes snapped back to yours, something darker flickering there now. “You planned this.”
You kissed the corner of his mouth. “Maybe.”
“Maybe, my ass.”
He surged up just enough to kiss you fully, mouth warm and tasting faintly of lime and tequila, his hands sliding under your shirt like he was reclaiming control. But you broke the kiss with a breathless laugh, leaning back just enough to look him in the eyes.
“You said you liked tequila.”
“I like peace and quiet too, but I guess I’m not getting that either,” he muttered, though the way he looked at you said something very different.
“Not when I’m around,” you teased, pulling his shirt fully open now and tossing the shot glass aside like the game was only beginning.
He chuckled, low and wicked. “And here I was, just trying to have a normal Friday night.”
“But did you like it though?” you asked, breathless now, lips still tingling from the kiss. You dragged your hands slowly up his chest, over the exposed skin you’d just unbuttoned, nails light enough to make him twitch. “You haven’t said anything about it, babe.”
Yoongi looked at you—really looked at you. His pupils were blown wide now, jaw tight, lips slightly parted as he processed the question, like you had just asked him something offensive.
“You’re seriously asking me that,” he said, voice low, hoarse with restraint, “while you’re literally sitting on me like this?”
You rolled your hips ever so slightly, the friction cruel in how light it was. “Just want feedback.”
Yoongi let out a sharp breath—half disbelief, half groan—and grabbed you by the hips, steadying you, containing you, but barely. His fingers dug in, possessive.
“Of course I fucking liked it,” he said, eyes dragging down from your lips to your neck, to the swell of your chest beneath your shirt. “Who the fuck do you think I am?”
You smiled slowly. “Just making sure.”
“You licked my neck, downed a shot like it was foreplay, and then had the audacity to grind on me like it was a goddamn game.”
You tilted your head. “It was a game.”
He pulled you flush against him, his mouth brushing the corner of yours with maddening softness, the kind that made your whole body tense in anticipation. “Oh, it’s a fucking war now.”
You gasped, but before you could respond, his mouth was on yours again—hotter this time, needier, tongue sweeping past your lips like he needed more of you now. His hands slid up your back, under your shirt, dragging it higher with every desperate kiss.
He was already hard beneath you, and the way his hips bucked up, just once, slow and deliberate, told you exactly how much control he was pretending to have.
“You wanna know if I liked it?” he growled against your mouth, lips brushing yours with each word. “I’m gonna show you how much.”
And he kissed you again—messy, rough, like the question had flipped a switch in him. One hand tugged at the waistband of your shorts while the other held you firmly in place, his thigh pressing between yours now. Heat pooled low in your belly.
“Tequila,” he muttered against your skin, trailing kisses down your neck. “What kind of spell did you girls cook up in Bali?”
You laughed, breath shaky as your hands tangled in his hair. “The kind that ends with you begging.”
He was gone the second you straddled him.
Yoongi tried—really tried—to keep his cool. But the minute you whispered “lick” and dragged your tongue along his neck, something short-circuited. His brain, his restraint, his sense of time. All of it.
And now, here you were—sitting on him like sin in human form, asking if he liked it.
Liked it?
He wanted to laugh. Scream. Flip the couch. Instead, he grabbed your hips because he had to. Not to stop you—hell no—but because if he didn’t hold on, he might do something entirely unhinged. Like flip you over and lose his mind.
“Of course I fucking liked it,” he said, and even to his own ears, his voice sounded wrecked. He could feel the way your weight settled into his lap, how warm you were, how smug. You knew exactly what you were doing, and it was driving him insane.
He couldn’t look away from your mouth. The way you were breathing a little faster. The faint shimmer of tequila still lingering on your lips.
When you rolled your hips again—again—he swore under his breath.
His body reacted instantly, hips lifting into yours with an involuntary jerk that made him clench his jaw. Your breath caught. Good. You felt it too.
“You’re gonna fucking kill me,” he muttered, dragging his hands under your shirt, mapping every inch of skin like he had to memorize it. “This—whatever this is—you’re not walking away from it, you know that?”
You tilted your head, smirking. “Wasn’t planning to. I told you I had a shitty week.”
Yoongi chuckled, the sound deep in his throat as he leaned in, lips brushing against the shell of your ear. “So this was your plan, huh?”
You felt the slow drag of his hands down your sides—warm, steady, maddening.
“Mmm,” he murmured, voice low and laced with amusement. “You just wanted to have a little fun. That it?”
His nose nudged against your cheek before he whispered, “You missed me, babe. Don’t play like you didn’t.”
You tried to keep a straight face, but the way he spoke—so casual, so sure of you—made your breath hitch.
“Two weeks without me…” His teeth grazed your jaw. “Two weeks without sex.”
Your thighs instinctively tightened around his hips, and he noticed—of course he did.
“Ohhh, I knew it,” he grinned, cocky now. “I wonder what you got up to while I was around. Hm? What kind of desperate little thoughts did that pretty head of yours have?”
He ran his hands up under your shirt again, slow, appreciating every curve like he’d been starving for it. “You did something to this body, didn’t you?” he drawled, voice dark velvet now. “You’ve been walking around all tan and glowy and smug like that trip fixed your soul—but I know what you really needed.”
His fingers curled around your hips, rocking you down against him, just enough to remind you exactly how ready he was.
“You’re a whole different person when you’re horny, baby. So needy. So fucking honest.”
You squirmed, and his laugh was smug, satisfied.
“You had a shitty week,” he said, dragging his mouth down to your neck, lips soft but teasing. “So naturally, you thought—‘Hey, I know what’ll help. Let me climb on top of my boyfriend and ride the stress away.’”
“Is it working?” you whispered, breath hot against his cheek.
He pulled back just enough to look at you—really look, eyes burning like they could eat you alive.
“I made you a song while we were apart,” he said with mock offense. “You? You learned a seduction trick off TikTok.”
You grinned. “Productive two weeks.”
Yoongi’s hands were still on your waist, warm and possessive, when he leaned back just slightly, eyes hooded and gleaming with something dangerous. You knew that look. That smirk. Your stomach flipped.
“So…” he began, brushing his thumbs in slow circles over your bare skin, “you pulled that little tequila stunt…”
You grinned. “Guilty.”
“…and thought I wouldn’t retaliate?”
Your smile faltered. “What?”
He leaned in again, lips barely ghosting over yours as he whispered, “You really think I don’t have a few tricks of my own, baby?”
You swallowed hard.
“I’ve been patient,” he continued, dragging his fingers slowly—infuriatingly slowly—down your spine. “You had your fun. Now it’s my turn.”
Before you could respond, he was lifting you effortlessly, standing with you wrapped around him like it was second nature—because, at this point, it was. You barely had time to gasp before he was carrying you down the hallway toward the bedroom, kicking the door shut behind him like he meant it.
He laid you on the bed with a reverence that made your heart race and your thighs press together, and then he disappeared for a second—just long enough to make you whine in protest.
“Relax,” came his voice from somewhere near the kitchen, casual and dangerous. “I’m just grabbing the bottle. If you’re gonna start something, babe, you better be ready to finish it.”
Your mouth went dry.
When he returned, the bottle of tequila was in one hand, and that same dark smirk was back on his face. He set it gently on the nightstand, then climbed onto the bed with the kind of grace that made your breath catch.
“You remember how it goes, right?” he murmured, kneeling between your legs. “Salt… lick… shot.”
You nodded, suddenly the one speechless.
He dragged a finger across the curve of your collarbone, then leaned in to kiss the spot—slow, open-mouthed, lingering. You felt your heartbeat stutter.
“Lift your arms,” he whispered.
You obeyed. He licked a line just below your clavicle, then sprinkled the salt there with deliberate precision. His lips brushed your ear again.
“Keep still.”
You couldn’t breathe.
He brought the shot glass up, holding it steady in one hand as he dipped his head.
The lick came first—wet, slow, decadent. His tongue traced the salt from your chest with a kind of reverence that made your whole body tighten beneath him.
Then the shot—head tilted back, clean and quick.
And then?
Then came the lime.
Instead of handing it to you, Yoongi brought it to your mouth himself, holding the wedge with his fingers just so. “Bite,” he murmured, his eyes locked on your lips.
You did—and his eyes darkened.
He watched the way your mouth moved, watched the little shiver run through you from the sour tang and the heat still lingering on your skin.
“Fuck,” he muttered, dropping the lime to the side and pushing you gently back onto the pillows. “You're never allowed to do that trick again unless I get to do it right back.”
Your laugh was breathless. “Deal.”
But before you could say anything else, his mouth was back on you—hot, insistent, everywhere at once. He kissed a path down your stomach, murmuring praise between every inch of skin.
And just before he disappeared between your thighs, he looked up at you with that same boyish smirk that always got you in trouble.
“You had a shitty week,” he said, voice low “Guess I’m gonna have to fuck it out of you.”
You barely had time to react before Yoongi’s mouth was on you again—slow. He kissed down your stomach like he was mapping it, like he was reclaiming it. His fingers slid under the waistband of your shorts, tugging just enough to make you whimper.
“You wore these to tease me, huh?” he murmured, hot breath fanning over your skin. “You knew exactly what you were doing.”
“Maybe,” you said, breathless, hands tangling in his hair.
He chuckled, dark and low. “You walk in here, tequila bottle like some kind of sex witch… straddle me like it’s nothing, lick salt off my chest like that’s a normal Friday night—what the fuck do you expect me to do?”
You were about to answer—something witty, something bratty—but then he had your shorts off and his mouth was on your inner thigh, kissing the skin there like it was sacred.
“You smell like heaven,” he muttered. “And you’re shaking. You’ve been thinking about this all week, haven’t you?”
“Yes,” you gasped.
He hummed. “Then stop pretending like you don’t want me to ruin you.”
And he did. Tongue pressed flat, slow and firm—one long lick that had your hips bucking off the bed. His hands gripped your thighs, holding you down with practiced ease.
“Fuck, baby,” you breathed, already seeing stars.
Yoongi didn’t respond. He was focused, utterly and deliciously focused, like he was composing a melody with your body as the instrument. He switched between long, slow strokes and quick flicks that had you sobbing his name.
Every time you got close, he’d pull back—kiss your thighs, suck a little mark into the skin just to watch you squirm.
“You don’t get to come yet,” he said, voice rough now. “Not until I say.”
You whimpered, a full-body shiver running through you.
He slid two fingers into you—slow, curling just right—and your back arched. Your hands gripped the sheets, clawed at them. He pressed kisses to your inner thigh as he fucked you with his fingers, mouth still devastating between your legs.
“You taste like you missed me,” he said, voice hoarse, fingers never slowing. “Is that what this is? Two weeks of missing me? Of needing this cock and not getting it?”
“Yoongi—”
“Tell me.”
“Yes—yes, fuck, I missed you—”
“Yeah, you did.” His teeth grazed your skin, his fingers moving faster now. “Missed being filled. Missed being fucked like you deserved.”
You were a trembling mess, every nerve ending lit up, every muscle tense and begging for release.
And just when you thought you couldn’t take another second, he moved up your body, hovered over you, kissed your lips deep and dirty with your taste still on his tongue.
“Wanna come?” he whispered, grinding against you, already rock hard through his boxers.
“Yes, please—”
“Good,” he smirked. “Because I’m not stopping until you do. And then again. And again. You're not sleeping tonight, babe.”
Yoongi didn’t stop—not when your legs started to tremble, not when your breath hitched in that high, helpless way that drove him insane. He was relentless, completely immersed, tongue gliding in slow, torturous circles before switching to sharp, precise flicks that had you arching off the bed.
“God, fuck. Please,” you almost choked, voice wrecked, coming out in desperate, broken pieces. “Fuck, fuck—”
Your hand flew to his hair, threading through the dark strands with shaking fingers. You weren’t just touching him—you were clinging, grounding yourself against the overwhelming wave crashing through your body. Then your other hand joined, not stroking, not pulling—just holding on as he pulled deeper sounds from you than you'd ever made before.
“I—fuck,” you gasped again, voice hoarse and breathless, hips rising against his mouth. “Yoongi—please—I can't—”
He growled low, the sound vibrating against you in a way that made you cry out. And still, he didn’t stop.
Didn’t even look up.
He knew exactly what he was doing.
You were falling apart under him, trembling and moaning and begging, and he was drinking it in like your body was his favorite kind of worship. His hands tightened on your thighs, holding you open, holding you down—as if to say You’re not going anywhere. I’m not done yet.
Because he wasn’t.
He was building you like a beat, layering sensation on sensation until it all collapsed—until the dam broke and you screamed his name, clenching around nothing, your body shaking as pleasure tore through you.
And even then, he still didn’t let go.
“Good girl,” he murmured against your thigh, breath hot, voice rough with pride and lust. “Now let’s see how you take cock”
He didn’t give you much time to recover—just enough for your breathing to even out, for your lashes to flutter open, dazed and ruined, still trembling from the aftermath.
Yoongi leaned over you, chest brushing yours, the weight of him grounding you. His lips ghosted across your jawline, featherlight, and then lower, over your neck, where he bit down gently—claiming.
"You always taste like this?" he murmured, lips brushing the shell of your ear. "Or is this just what happens when you miss me?"
You whimpered, already breathless again.
He sat back on his knees, undoing his belt in one smooth pull that made your mouth go dry. His eyes never left yours—dark, heavy-lidded, pupils blown wide with hunger. His shirt hung open, still a little damp where you’d licked the salt off his skin, and he looked completely, devastatingly fucked out, even though he hadn’t gotten anything yet.
“Look at you,” he murmured, eyes raking down your body. “You’re shaking. You really had a week, huh?”
You nodded. Barely. And he smiled, slow and sinful.
“Well, baby,” he said, positioning himself between your thighs, stroking himself once, twice—thick, flushed, already dripping—“let me make it better.”
And then he pressed in.
The stretch made your breath catch, eyes fluttering shut—your body still too sensitive, too desperate—and he hissed between his teeth.
“Fuck, you’re tight. Always so good for me. Goddamn.”
He rolled his hips, slow and deep, and it was like the air was punched out of your lungs. He filled you completely, every inch deliberate, every movement dragging against all the places you needed him.
Your hands flew to his shoulders, nails digging in for purchase.
“Yoongi—fuck—”
He caught your mouth in a kiss, messy and hot, all tongue and teeth, swallowing your sounds like he wanted to own them. His thrusts got harder, deeper, finding that rhythm that had your entire body arching, your legs locking around his waist like he was the only thing anchoring you.
"You think you can come in here, ride me with tequila tricks, and not get absolutely wrecked?" he growled into your neck.
You moaned—helpless—and he smirked.
"Not after that little show, baby. No way."
He shifted, one hand sliding under your thigh to hitch it higher around him, changing the angle—and fuck, you saw stars. Your back arched off the bed, your head thrown back, and Yoongi watched like he was witnessing art.
Yoongi’s grip tightened, his voice dropping low and rough against your skin. “What did they call you? A goddess?” His hips thrust harder, heavier, deliberately rougher, every movement pushing you closer to the edge. “But they didn’t get to have you like this, right?”
You choked on a breath, overwhelmed by the sensation. “Oh my god… I told you—fuck—because I thought it was… there, fuck—funny… Oh my god, are you really jeal—fuck!”
Your eyes rolled back, pleasure washing over you in waves so intense you could barely keep up.
“I’m not jealous,” Yoongi growled, voice thick with need.
“No?” you teased breathlessly, arching into him.
“I’m thriving,” he said, pressing his forehead to yours, every word dripping with possessiveness. “They don’t fucking get to see you like this. Only I do.”
“You feel that?” he grunted, thrusting harder now, body slamming into yours with a rhythm that left you gasping. “That’s mine. All of this—mine.”
You couldn't speak—you could barely think. Every movement was electric, every drag of him inside you a white-hot promise of release. His pace was brutal now, every snap of his hips laced with possession, with the kind of love that ruins you for anyone else.
“You’re gonna come again,” he said—low, rough, a little breathless, but firm. Not a question. A command. “And then you’re gonna do it one more time. Because I missed this, too. I fucking missed you.”
He growled the last part, voice cracking slightly under the weight of how real it was. His hips didn’t let up—deep, relentless, tuned perfectly to your body like he’d memorized every reaction, every gasp.
Your fingers clawed at his back, useless against the way your body spiraled. You were wrecked—utterly, completely, beautifully wrecked.
“I—I missed you so much, Yoongi,” you sobbed, the pleasure too much to hold in anymore. “I’m gonna… fu—fuck, cum—”
“Oh my god,” is all you can manage, your voice wrecked and breathless, your whole body trembling beneath him.
“Inside,” you whisper, your lips brushing his ear, need thick in your tone.
He’s still moving—slow now, but deep, deliberate—as if he wants to feel every last second of you wrapped around him. The look in his eyes is feral, undone.
“Fucking missed you so much, babe,” he groans, and then he’s right there—burying himself deep as he cums hard, hips stuttering, spilling into you with a growl so raw it vibrates in your chest. His whole body tenses against yours as he rides it out, forehead pressed to yours.
“I fucking missed you,” he repeats, almost breathless, voice rasping against your lips. “I told you—I wrote a whole damn song because I missed you. I didn’t have time to give you something earlier but I had this whole fucking plan—a date, like a proper boyfriend.”
He huffs out a breathless, delirious laugh, still barely able to move.
“And now look at us,” he adds, burying his face in your neck. “Fucking tequila.”
You laugh, weak and breathless, wrapping your arms around him tighter. “Next time you bring the salt.”
Group Chat: 🌴 Good Bitches Reunited 🌶️
You:
update: tequila trick was… effective 😌✨
Chaeyoung:
I KNEW IT
Taeha:
WAIT.
omg she DID
Jieun:
This is why I need to start collecting frequent flyer miles. I’m flying to you next.
Dami:
HELLO???
You:
girl.
the look on his face when I did it… like he saw God
Chaeyoung:
I’M SO PROUD I COULD CRY
Taeha:
Honestly I thought you’d chicken out
but no.
you did the whole “lick → salt → shot → kiss” thing right??
You:
Of course I did
I studied the tape
Jieun:
So you're telling me tequila + cleavage + terrible week + some sort of emotional reunion = Yoongi malfunction?
You:
He short-circuited 😌
Then rebooted and proceeded to rearrange my internal organs
Chaeyoung:
This is now a case study
Scientific proof that tequila leads to spiritual fulfillment and hot sex like I SAID.
A longtime HYBE lyricist and Yoongi have spent years loving each other quietly through songs, late-night studio sessions, and unspoken gestures. But when their feelings finally begin slipping past the cracks, old fears threaten to ruin the one connection that has always felt like home.
The HYBE building was humming with energy. Idols moved through the halls, and staff hurried past with files and cameras in hand. Inside the studio, BTS sat together, brainstorming their next project. They had recently wrapped up their Arirang world tour, and each member was eager to explore new genres to better connect with their fans.
"I think I want to talk more about how music itself helps people, rather than focusing on my personal life right now," Namjoon said, clicking his pen thoughtfully.
"That’s a great direction," you replied, sitting at the piano with a notebook and pen. "We can really lean into that for the lyrics."
After a brief discussion about the new concept, the meeting wound down. The maknae line headed out with their usual chaotic energy, leaving only Namjoon and Yoongi behind.
"Y/N, I’ll see you tonight? We can start working on the draft," Namjoon said, shaking your hand with a smile.
"See you then!" you waved. He nodded to Yoongi and stepped out.
You were one of HYBE’s senior lyricists and had worked closely with BTS since their debut. Over the years, you had formed a deep bond with the group. Yoongi stayed behind, packing his laptop slowly as if waiting for a moment to speak.
"It’s good to work with you again," he said softly. "It’s been a while."
"I know," you sighed, leaning back in your chair. "I really missed the energy you guys bring to a session."
"Well, you seemed to have plenty of fun working with that other groups last year," he teased, a small smirk playing on his lips.
"I did," you shrugged. "But I started my career with you guys. It’s always easier to speak the same language when it comes to music."
Yoongi smiled, and the two of you walked out of the studio together. "Are you busy tonight?" he asked.
"Yeah, I have a writing session with Joon," you replied, checking your phone. As you walked, your shoulder brushed against his.
It was a familiar, comfortable silence. Out of all the members, you and Yoongi were the closest. You had seen his lowest points, stuck for days in a dark studio, and his highest moments of joy. You were both silent speakers, you showed you cared through small gestures rather than words.
It was coffee left on a desk, quiet dinners at each other's apartments, or thoughtful birthday gifts. The other members knew there was a special connection between you, even if neither of you had ever put a label on it.
"Want to watch a movie when you’re free?" Yoongi asked casually. This was a regular routine for you two, spending hours watching a film and talking about it until the sun came up.
"Sure. Maybe tomorrow night," you said, looking up from your phone.
He hummed in agreement and gave you a small wave before heading his own way.
°
The following day, Namjoon and Yoongi were back in the studio, reviewing the lyrics Namjoon had drafted with you the previous night.
"Honestly, Y/N just understands us so well," Namjoon said, closing his notebook and rubbing his eyes. "It’s a relief to have her back on the team."
"I agree," Yoongi replied with a faint, private smile. "She’s incredible."
Namjoon watched him for a moment before leaning back in his chair. "So, how much longer?"
Yoongi didn't look up. "What are you talking about?"
"How much longer are you two going to pretend there’s nothing going on?"
Yoongi finally looked at him, his expression carefully neutral, though he let out a sharp sigh. "I have no idea what you mean."
"I heard that song you wrote about her," Namjoon countered smoothly. "It’s beautiful. You really should release it."
Yoongi’s eyes widened in genuine surprise. "What? When did you hear that? How—"
"I’m the leader, Hyung," Namjoon shrugged, a teasing glint in his eyes. "It’s my job to know everything that happens in these studios."
Yoongi groaned, sinking into his seat. "Perks of the job, I guess. Though... to be honest, there are quite a few songs I’ve written about her."
Namjoon shook his head at the confession. "Just tell her how you feel. She likes you too, Yoongi. Everyone can see it."
"I’m just... I don’t know," Yoongi admitted, his usual composure cracking. "We’ve been friends for so long. What if she doesn't feel the same? I mean, she’s close with you, too—"
Namjoon cut him off with a look of pure disbelief. "Y/N never brings me my favorite coffee when I'm working late. She doesn't stay behind to help me finish an album when I’m stuck. She literally stayed in the studio for two days straight with you just to make sure you were eating and doing okay."
It was so obvious to everyone else.
Yoongi let out a long, heavy breath. "You really think it’s time I ask her?"
"Yes," Namjoon said, nudging his shoulder. "Do it before someone else realizes how amazing she is and sweeps her off her feet."
Yoongi went quiet, a determined look finally crossing his face. "Yeah. Maybe you're right.”
°
That evening, you were passing by Yoongi’s studio when the faint sound of a guitar caught your attention. Unable to resist, you peeked inside.
Yoongi immediately cut the audio, looking as though he’d been caught doing something he shouldn't. You frowned and stepped into the room. "Working on a secret project?"
"Something like that," he replied, rubbing the back of his neck. He couldn't exactly tell you he was fine-tuning yet another song about his feelings for you.
"Cool. Let me hear it," you said, making yourself comfortable on the couch.
"Later. When it’s actually ready," he stammered, clearly flustered.
You sighed but nodded. "Fair enough. Anyway, we’re still on for that movie tonight, right?"
"Yeah... shall we go? I’m finished here anyway."
A short while later, you arrived at Yoongi’s new penthouse. It was your fifth time visiting since he’d returned from his military service, and the space felt increasingly familiar. While Yoongi made popcorn in the kitchen, you scrolled through the movie options.
Yoongi was a nervous wreck. He wanted to ask you out, to finally bridge the gap between "close friends and something more. Was tonight the night?
"Yoongi! Do you want to watch wonderland?" you called out from the living room.
He emerged from the kitchen carrying popcorn and a few beers. "Sure. Whatever you like." He sat down next to you, initially leaving a safe, polite distance between your bodies.
For the first half of the film, you were both genuinely absorbed in the plot. Eventually, you got up. "I’m just going to use the washroom." You headed toward his bedroom. Yoongi watched you go, a small smile tugging at his lips; he loved how comfortable you were in his home.
When you returned, you sat much closer to him, your knees almost brushing. After a couple of beers, the atmosphere felt heavy and soft. Yoongi finally gathered his courage.
"Are you seeing anyone?" he asked, his voice steady despite his racing heart.
You let out a soft laugh. "No. Are you?"
"You know I’m not."
"What about that actress you met through your friends?" you asked, shifting your body on the couch to face him. Yoongi mirrored your movement, his gaze lingering on your face. This was how he looked at you when the rest of the world was gone—with a quiet, intense adoration.
"You know she wasn't my type," he whispered, his voice dropping an octave.
"And what exactly is Yoongi’s type?" you teased, though your heart skipped a beat at the look in his eyes.
"Someone in the industry, maybe," he said, briefly breaking eye contact before looking back with total sincerity. "Or someone... who helps me find the words. Someone who understands my scars and helps me translate them." He leaned in. "Someone exactly like you. You’ve always been my type."
The bluntness of his confession sent a heat through your chest. Yoongi was rarely this straightforward. You had known your feelings were mutual for a long time, but your own past—the lingering shadows of childhood trauma—had always whispered that love wasn't meant for you.
Yoongi was closer now, his presence overwhelming your senses. His gaze dropped to your lips, and he took a sharp breath. Tilting his head, he leaned forward slowly. You held your breath, your head spinning from the beer and the proximity. His hand came up to rest on your knee as he finally pressed his lips against yours.
The world seemed to fall away. He cupped your face, kissing you gently at first, testing the waters. You let out a shaky breath and kissed him back, matching his slow, deliberate pace. He tasted of beer and mint, and as the kiss deepened, you found yourself reaching out to tug at the collar of his shirt.
The heat between you flared, the kiss becoming more desperate, more honest. Eventually, you pulled back, your skin flushed and your heart hammering against your ribs.
Yoongi panted slightly, his eyes dark as he looked at your swollen lips. He had never felt a pull this strong in his life. But as he looked closer, he saw tears welling in your eyes.
Panic replaced the passion. You stood up abruptly, and Yoongi scrambled to his feet. "Are you okay? Did I—"
You nodded quickly, blinking back the tears as you grabbed your phone. "I have to go... I'm sorry... bye." You rushed toward the door before he could stop you. "Don't follow me!" you called out over your shoulder.
Yoongi stood frozen in the middle of the living room, his mind racing with concern and regret. Had he misread everything? Had he pushed too hard? He ran a hand through his hair, cursing softly under his breath as the door clicked shut.
°
"Did I do something wrong?" Yoongi muttered, pacing restlessly across Namjoon’s studio.
"Why would she run away like that? And why was she crying?" Namjoon asked, looking equally baffled.
The studio door swung open, and Jimin walked in with a concerned pout. "Hyung, what happened with Y/N Noona? I just saw her, and it looks like she’s been crying. Is she okay?"
Yoongi’s heart sank. "She’s still crying?"
"Yeah. Her eyes were red and her face was all puffy," Jimin said, settling onto the couch. "Is she sick? Weren’t you two together last night?"
Namjoon let out a heavy sigh, looking at his friend’s distraught face. "You need to talk to her after today’s session."
By the afternoon, the members and the production team had gathered in the main studio to finalize the concept for the new track. The room was full of voices, but for Yoongi, the only thing that mattered was your presence. He tried to catch your eye several times, but you pointedly ignored him. The rejection stung more than he cared to admit.
The tension between you was palpable. Yoongi couldn't focus on the melodies or the feedback; his mind was a storm of guilt and confusion. He wanted to apologize, to beg for forgiveness, and to understand why a moment that felt so right had ended in such a painful way. Was she angry about the kiss?
"Yoongi?"
He snapped out of his thoughts, blinking as he realized the producer was waiting for an answer. Namjoon cleared his throat and nudged him back to reality.
You glanced at Yoongi for a split second before quickly looking away.
No, you told yourself firmly. You couldn't let this happen. Yoongi was a man the entire world admired—a star who belonged to millions. You were just a writer behind the scenes. More importantly, your own childhood trauma made the idea of us feel impossible.
Your attachment issues ran deep, rooted in the wreckage of your parents' recent divorce. After years of watching them tear each other apart through constant arguments, you had developed a reflex to run whenever things got too real. Dating wasn't a romance to you; it was a risk you weren't ready to take.
Your feelings for Yoongi were growing stronger every day, and that was exactly what terrified you. After the kiss last night, you knew that if you had stayed even a minute longer, you would have been lost.
You let out a quiet sigh and focused intensely on the lyric sheets in your hands. You could feel Yoongi’s gaze burning into you every few minutes, but you kept your head down, determined to keep the walls you had built from crumbling.
While you were discussing instrumentals with the assistant producer, Namjoon cleared his throat behind you. You turned to him, forcing a small, tired smile.
"Hey, Joon. What’s up?"
"I have a new track," Namjoon said, showing you his phone. "I’d love your take on the lyrics whenever you have a moment."
"Of course. I’ll stop by this evening," you replied, pulling your hair back into a messy bun.
Namjoon studied you for a second, his concern evident. "Are you doing okay, Y/N?" He knew you were usually the quiet type, but the spark you normally carried was missing. You looked drained.
"I’m... fine. See you later," you said quickly, making your exit before he could press further.
Around 3:00 PM, you found yourself standing at the coffee machine. As you grabbed a can, you noticed Yoongi’s face on the advertisement wrapped around it. You sighed, the memory of the kiss rushing back instantly. Your fingers ghosted over your lips unconsciously before you shook your head, trying to clear your mind.
On your way back to the elevator, you had to pass Yoongi’s studio. You froze when you heard the faint sound of a guitar drifting through the door. The melody was cozy, yet it carried a sharp, aching undertone that made your chest tighten. He was singing softly—was he recording?
Unable to help yourself, you peeked through the cracked door. Yoongi was sitting on the couch, eyes closed, lost in the music. The lyrics were raw—they were about longing, about loving someone from a distance and lacking the courage to say it aloud. Your heart shattered when he finally stopped playing and reached up to wipe his eyes.
He had been crying.
He turned his head and went rigid when he saw you standing in the doorway. He stood up immediately and rushed toward you, his movements frantic.
"I am so sorry about last night," he said, his voice thick and broken. He reached out, taking your hand in his. "I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable. I’m so sorry, Y/N."
Your heart twisted painfully at the sight of his distress. "I... I wasn’t crying because of the kiss," you whispered, unable to look him in the eye. "You make me more comfortable than anyone else."
"Then why?" he asked, searching your face. "Did I do something? Is it me?"
"No. It’s nothing. I’m sorry," you said, pulling your hand back. "Let's just... let's just pretend the kiss never happened. Let's act like there’s nothing between us."
The words hit him like a physical blow. Yoongi recoiled slightly, his expression crumbling into pure hurt. "Oh," he managed, his voice barely a whisper. "I see."
"See you," you murmured, waving a hand dismissively as you turned away. You hurried down the hall, hot tears finally spilling down your cheeks as you left him standing there in the silence.
°
That evening, you were at a quiet cafe with Namjoon—a favorite, secluded spot where the two of you, along with Yoongi, often retreated to write.
Namjoon ordered some food and began discussing the solo project he was developing, but you were miles away. Guilt gnawed at you. You couldn’t stop thinking about Yoongi’s tears or the lyrics of that song. You knew they were about you; every line pointed to the private moments you had shared over the years.
"Are you even listening?" Namjoon asked, setting his coffee cup down with a soft click.
"Uh... yeah," you muttered, rubbing your temples and nodding. "Sorry."
Namjoon sighed, leaning forward. "What is going on with you?"
"Nothing."
"Don't lie. I may not be as close to you as Yoongi is, but I know you well enough to see when something is wrong," he said firmly. "You’re never like this—especially not when we’re talking about work. Talk to me. I’m your friend, aren’t I? Is this about Yoongi?"
You hesitated, the weight of the secret feeling heavier by the second.
"Come on," he nudged your shoulder. "I told you about my crush last time! Fair is fair."
You let out a long, shaky breath. "Yes. It’s... it's about Yoongi."
"Mhm. Go on."
"I... I like him. A lot."
"Yeah, we all know that," Namjoon shrugged casually.
"But I’m not right for him," you whispered, your voice cracking. "I don’t deserve him. I know what we have is deep—stronger than anything else—and I know he feels it too, but... I’m a mess, Joon. My parents... growing up with them was so chaotic. They were emotionally absent, and the fighting never stopped. It left me with so many attachment issues. I’m trying to work on it, but Yoongi..." Tears began to trail down your cheeks.
"Yoongi has been through so much already," you continued, wiping your eyes. "He doesn't deserve someone as broken as me. He deserves someone lively and bubbly—someone who can just make him happy without all this baggage."
Namjoon listened patiently, his expression softening. "I hear you. I understand why you’re scared of love, and I get that growing up in a broken home leaves scars. But Yoongi has his own scars, too. He didn't have support when he started; he had to fight for everything. Having a difficult past doesn’t mean you don't deserve him. In fact, it’s probably why you deserve each other more than anyone else. You understand his silence, and he understands your shadows."
He reached across the table, offering a small, encouraging smile. "I’m not going to force you to talk to him before you’re ready, but I think you both deserve a real chance. You need to be honest with him. He doesn't just like you, Y/N. He loves you."
Namjoon stood up and settled the bill. "Come on. My driver will drop you home. Think about what I said.”
°
Several months had passed, and you had been avoiding Yoongi like the plague. To his credit, he never forced an encounter. He gave you the space you silently demanded. Namjoon had eventually explained your situation to him, and Yoongi, ever patient, chose to wait for you in the silence.
A few weeks ago, Yoongi released a new solo single. It was a hauntingly soft track about his mind being a tangled mess of threads that only one person could unravel. You listened to it constantly; you knew every lyric was a message meant specifically for you.
Despite knowing his heart, you remained trapped in your own head. You knew that healing required a leap of faith, but you weren't sure if you were brave enough to take it.
One afternoon, while walking through the HYBE hallways with a colleague, you spotted Yoongi and Jungkook approaching from the opposite direction. The moment Yoongi saw you, he stopped, turned around, and took a different route. It stung. You knew he wasn't being petty; he was simply honoring the distance you had requested, but seeing him walk away made you realize how much you hated the gap between you.
Later that evening, you sat alone in your apartment with a glass of wine, playing his song on a loop. You found yourself crying and smiling at the same time. He had woven so many memories into the music—the day you first met, the moment he realized he felt safe with you, and even the time you told him his scars were simply proof that he was a survivor.
On an impulse, you called Namjoon. Over the last few months, he had become your unofficial therapist, constantly pulling you out of your dark spirals.
"Joon... do you think it would be okay if I went to see him now?"
After a brief, reassuring conversation, you hung up, hailed a taxi, and headed straight to Yoongi’s penthouse.
When the doorbell rang, Yoongi was distracted, playing with his cat, Tang. He opened the door and froze, his eyes widening in shock at the sight of you. Tang trotted over, rubbing against your legs with a welcoming meow.
"Y/N..." he breathed, still processing your presence.
Without a word, you stepped inside, grabbed the lapels of his shirt, and kissed him.
He let out a sharp gasp of surprise but recovered instantly. His arms wound around you, pulling you flush against him as if he were afraid you might vanish. The kiss was desperate and honest, but Yoongi pulled back slightly when he tasted the salt of tears.
"Y/N..." he whispered, his forehead resting against yours.
"I’m so sorry," you sobbed, reaching up to cup his face. "I’m sorry for hurting you, for running away, for everything." You kissed him again, more softly this time. "I love you, Yoongi."
The confession brought tears to his own eyes. He didn't say a word at first, simply showering your face with tiny, tender kisses. You buried your face in his neck, breathing him in.
"You’re an idiot," he muttered, though his voice was thick with affection as he stroked your hair.
"I know," you sniffled. "But you’re an idiot too. I saw you crying in the studio that day..."
Yoongi chuckled softly. "I’m just happy you're here. The wait, the hurt—it was all worth it for this. I love you too, Y/N. I always have."
You pulled back to look at him, your expression serious. "I’m sorry I pushed you away. I was just so scared."
"Don't blame yourself," he murmured, wiping a stray tear from your cheek.
He led you to the couch, pulling you into his lap so that you were tucked firmly against his chest. For a long time, you stayed like that, finally letting the words out.
"I’ve always been terrified of love," you admitted, your voice muffled against his shirt. "I never really knew what it was supposed to look like. My parents... it was just endless fighting and talk of divorce. I thought attachment was a trap."
He rubbed your back in slow, soothing circles, listening to every word.
"I ran because I was becoming too attached to you. I was scared of how much power you had over my heart, and I was terrified that you didn't actually feel the same way."
He kissed the top of your head. "I’m not going anywhere. I’ll be right here—next to you, for you—no matter what."
He stood up briefly to grab his guitar from the corner of the room. "Let me confess to you properly, in my own way."
As he played and sang every song he had ever written about you, the last of your walls finally crumbled. You stayed up until the early hours of the morning, wrapped in each other's arms, replacing years of hidden longing with the promise of a future together.
(this fanfic series is meant for mature audiences, 18+ only please!)
part one: the one where your really attractive neighbor saves you from a creepy guy that follows you home from the bar.
part two: the one where your really attractive neighbor brings you something you left at his place and gives you a little extra in return.
part three: the one where your suuuuper hot neighbor makes up for leaving you hanging.
part four: coming soon!
✩ keep in mind these chapters are works of fiction! i do not know the opinions or values of the people i write for/use as a faceclaim. i do not own the organizations or companies they are aligned with. minors DO NOT INTERACT! THIS BLOG IS 18+ ONLY!! ✩ also, all of my works are original, please do not steal or repost anywhere, and please keep in mind when you’re inspired by other creators to write your own work, it’s not okay to copy or take inspiration without credit. ✩
— if you would like to be tagged in future parts of this series, comment on this post or send me an ask or dm! —
Yoongi is happy you convinced him to spend the day on the beach. He’s rewarded with your pretty sight, tiny red bikini. His book quickly forgotten, rather watch you pop red cherries that stain your lips. “Do you want one?” You dangle the cherry close to his lips as a small smile spreads across his face. Instead of taking it from your hand his mouth opened, using his tongue to grab the bright red cherry.
The air blows harshly against your damp skin, his eyes drop down to your taut nipples. You grow nervous under his glaze, can’t help but hide your breast with your hand. He smiled as his eyes filled with desire, “take it off” a warm blush quickly decorated your cheeks “w-what” his fingers tease the string that holds your bikini “take it off -need to see your pretty tits”.
Your eyes travel down his unbuttoned shirt to the present bulge in his shorts. With ease he lifted you up on his lap, letting you wet his dry clothes “see what you do to me” he hissed as your palm groped his thick bulge. “We can’t do this here” you try to move away but he tightens his hold, forcing you to stay in place. “No one is here” he grabbed a fist full of your hair to pull your head back. “Just you and me baby” his desire blinds him, only thinking about licking the salty water from your neck.
He smirked against your neck as you grind your sex on his bulge, you grabbed onto his shoulder as he left wet kisses down your neck. “We shouldn’t do this” you say that but you quickly push your hand in his pants grabbing his leaking cock. The irony. “Spit on it” Yoongi leans back as he stares at your lust filled eyes, the wind blows against his chest revealing his toned chest.
Your hands tremble as you pull his shorts down, watching his cock stand against his chest. Yoongi watched your worries crumble away as you spit on his cock. “So good for me” his stomach tightens as you pump his cock, thumb teasing his leaking tip. You focus on his reaction, eye scrunch in pleasure, his mouth falls open as you tighten your hand making him moan your name. “s~shit” his hand reached for the string holding your breast, needing to see your pretty tits in his face.
Your top falls, as his thumb swipes against your erotic nipple feeling the metal ring against his thumb. His precum leaks as his breaths get heavy, he’s so close. He quickly flips you over placing his hand behind your head “let me have you” a nervous thrill fills your eyes, your chest rises as he rubbed your clit through your panties. “I’m all yours” he pushed your panties to the side as his finger spread your wet lips, yoongi licks his lips as the sun kisses your glistening core. Your heart races with adrenaline, you start to regret what you’re doing. “I-I can’t” you try to close your legs but yoongi slaps your wet pussy. Send a wave of pleasure and pain.
“Please baby, I’ll be quick” before you can answer he pushed his tip in you, he sighs as your velvet walls clamp around him. “y~yoongi” you tried to push him away but he was quick to pin your hands above your head. Yoongi licks your red lips before kissing you sweetly, he moans against the kiss -sucking the cherry taste from your tongue.
Your legs lock around his waist while he delivers slow but deep strokes. Eyes roll to the back of your head as he his tip nudged against your g spot, stars cloud your vision. Yoongi pulls always -basking in the feeling of your pussy squeeze his leaking cock for all its worth “Fuck, you take me so well” his lips wrap around your sensitive bud, flicking his tongue on your pierced nipple.
His hands loosen as he sits up, you look down at where you two meet. Eyes bore on the white rings on his cock present with each thrust “see how good you make me feel” Your nails scratch his chest as you moan his name loudly, Yoongi fingers caressed your stained lips before shoving his fingers in your mouth “I can’t get enough of you”.
