He never raises his voice, never frowns, and never treats you like an inconvenience—even when you call out of nowhere while he's buried in work.
Instead, the soft click of his mechanical keyboard simply drops into silence over the line.
"Hey babe," he says, his voice low and raspy in that way that means he's been glued to a monitor for hours. There's no sharp edge to it, no sigh of exasperation. "Give me ten seconds to save this arrangement, alright?"
You hear the quiet shuffle of papers on his desk, the steady rhythm of his breathing, and then the creak of his studio chair as he leans back. He doesn't mention the tight deadline or the producers waiting on his mix. He just pulls the phone closer to his ear, offering you his full, undivided focus.
"Okay," he mumbles softly, his thumb brushing over the microphone as if he could soothe you through the line. "I'm right here. Take your time."
That's just how Yoongi operates—with a grounded, patient calm that makes the rest of the world feel quiet. When things go wrong, he doesn't snap. If you shatter a glass in his kitchen, he doesn't flinch; he just tells you to stay still so you don't hurt yourself while he quietly sweeps up the pieces. His face rarely hardens into anything cold—at most, his eyes narrow in thoughtful concentration, or his lips curve into that soft, fond smile he tries to hide when you're not looking.
Even amidst the noise and pressure of his own life, he always makes sure there's a safe, quiet room reserved just for you.
✎ ˎˊ˗ Pairing: Min Yoongi x female Reader
✎ ˎˊ˗ Genre: Situationship, idol!au, angst, smut, coworkers, love triangle maybe
✎ ˎˊ˗ Summary: Across sleepless cities on tour, you and Yoongi cling to each other in an unspoken arrangement neither of you knows how to end until someone new makes you wonder if you should.
✎ ˎˊ˗ Chapter Warnings: 18+ only. MDNI. Saddle up we got ANGST. They’re idiots! <3, MC and her drunk ass this whole entire chapter ffr (drink responsibly, y’all), jealousy is the main theme, and insecurity :(, messy friendships, secrets, MC goes viral, SMUT, drunk sex with cowboy!yoongi, cowgirl, nipple sucking, yoongi’s oral fixation, biting, a game of truth or dare and the truth comes out (kind of), shower sex, namjoon gives MC a headlock (my dream), white tank top namjoon, menace kim taehyung, yoonmin, some canon events I butchered for my sick pleasure, yoongi’s ex makes an appearance (guess who i had in mind), a scene pays a lil homage to aqua glossdebut’s take a bite, the ending :(
✎ ˎˊ˗ Word count: ~8k
✎ ˎˊ˗ Betaread by: Aqua (this is for you!), Tea and Catie
✎ ˎˊ˗ Playlist by @angellekookie
✎ ˎˊ˗ Banner by @risky-peaches
✎ ˎˊ˗ Notes: Hello, it’s here :)
Series Masterlist | Masterlist
[Baltimore, MD, August 2026]
You’re standing in front of a vending machine in the lobby, arms crossed, watching as Namjoon aggressively tries to procure a piece of candy.
“You fuckin’ broke it, Joon,” you laugh, leaning against his side.
“I didn’t break it,” he insists, already giving the machine another shove.
The little screw thing whirrs, the chocolate bar teeters but still doesn’t fall.
You gasp. “Oh my god, you did break it.”
“I did not,” he presses the buttons again, then, with zero shame, thumps the side of the machine.
Nothing. Then, he hits it again, biceps flexing with each bang.
“Namjoon,” you wheeze, laughter spilling out now. “You can’t just damage public property.”
“It’s stuck,” he mutters, crouching slightly to inspect the angle like that’s going to help. “Just needs a… love tap.” Then slams the vending machine again. “Shit.”
“Love tap? Jesus Christ.” You shake your head.
Namjoon pulls back and gives it one last, dramatic bang. The bar finally drops!
“Told ya,” he straightens, triumphant, dimples cutting deep, like he just solved world hunger, even though it’s just his own that’s the issue at hand.
A door clicks open down the hall. Oh shit, you must have been too loud and now someone is going to chew your ass out.
Ah. It’s just Yoongi. Whew.
Yoongi steps out, probably drawn by the noise, loose white long sleeves, hair slightly mussed but flat on one side like he’s been lying down.
“Yoongi!” You call. “Your boy just committed a crime.”
His gaze lands on the two of you as he waddles over. Takes it in. Namjoon in his white tank, a Three Musketeers bar in one hand. And you, in an obviously-not-your-hoodie hanging off one shoulder, a leopard-print cami underneath, which Yoongi has definitely seen on you before. And on his floor.
Tipsy as fuck, Namjoon suddenly snags you into the crook of his arm, squishing your face against his side until you’re laughing.
Yoongi isn’t.
Namjoon scoffs as he releases you. “It’s actually not a crime when I paid for this shit.”
“He punched the vending machine multiple times,” you explain to Yoongi, gesturing dramatically. “I witnessed it.”
Yoongi huffs quietly, eyes flicking between you and Namjoon then the machine. “Looks fine to me.”
“Of course you’re gonna take his side,” you accuse, pointing at him now.
You’re a little drunkie drunk and everything feels lighter, looser. Words come easier.
“Oh Yoongi, do you watch Lovers not Fighters?” you pivot back, already halfway into another thought, “They had the craziest episode earlier. Like, actual insanity. The main character–”
Namjoon interjects. “She’s crazy. Everything is her fault!”
“No way! It’s definitely the guy’s fault for being so… ughhh…” you groan, continuing your rant.
Yoongi watches you talk with furrowed brows like you’re a new species to be studied.
“Anyway,” you finish, waving a hand like it’s all very important. “It was so wild! Yoongi, you should join us next time!”
A beat.
“I’m good,” he says simply.
“No seriously,” you insist, tugging lightly on the sleeve of his white tee.
He tracks your touch from when it curls on his sleeve and drops. “Y’all enjoy that.”
You shrug. “Your loss.”
He nods once. And just like that, he turns, heading back toward his room, not before a brief glance over his shoulder.
You catch it, but you’re too busy laughing when Namjoon is aghast to discover that the candy bar is expired! Lmaooo.
⊙⊝⊜
The next night, you get hit by a tree.
Okay, not really. But it feels like it.
The tree’s name is Kim Namjoon.
It was during the FYA/Fire remix. Everything was moving fast, cues hitting back-to-back, adrenaline high and bodies popping and locking everywhere. And suddenly Namjoon lost his balance and barreled straight into you, arms catching your shoulders at the last second to stop the collision which could have made both of you fall from the extended stage.
There’s a split-second freeze when you both realize what’s happening and who the person is in front of you. Then you recovered, slipping back into formation like nothing happened. Seamless.
But it is, unfortunately, not seamless on the internet because the next day you find out in the girls’ GC that you’ve become the subject of a viral moment.
Angel: wake tf up @y/n
Tiff: oh she’s famous now
Rei: i can get behind this ship actually
Bina: fanfics just writing themselves atp
The scream you scrumpt could have been heard all the way in Seoul.
You even get a text from your sister asking if the storylines the internet is concocting could be true. You sent her a big fat NO.
Even after soundcheck, you don’t escape the teasing. You are summoned to the green room because Hobi wanted to practice that *NSYNC dance challenge when you get bombarded.
“Y/N!” Taehyung has his Tata mic face on, which spells trouble. “You and Namjoon went viral.”
You groan. “Oh god. Not this again.”
Namjoon is already red. Like, visibly red. “It was just a fuckin’ misstep,” he whines.
“Just a misstep?” Tae repeats with a grin, clearly wanting to stir the pot. “Hyung, you almost took her out.”
“I did not—”
“You did actually,” you cut in, pointing at him. “I could sue.”
Laughter breaks out around you. Jimin almost falls off the stool. Jungkook is replaying the clip from Tae’s phone.
“Ah, you guys are cute…” Hobi says from over Kook’s shoulder.
“Stop replaying it!” Namjoon groans, walking towards the fridge to grab an Arih.
“Awww… so cute.” Jungkook giggles as they watch what appears to be the same video from a different angle.
“Oooh the internet is thirsty…” Tae says. “They think you’re hot, Y/N… mucho picante!”
Stupid boy chuckles ensue as you roll your eyes. You’re momentarily distracted when the coffee machine starts making a loud noise and Yoongi’s there staring at his cup like it’s serious business.
“They say you saved a nation in a past life, Y/N,” Jimin quips. “ARMY is so creative.”
Tae chimes back in. “This one said you and Namjoon would make cute babies.”
You’re blushing, a little flustered, not gonna lie. It’s harmless, and you know it. The boys like to joke around, but this is the first time you’ve ever been linked to a member like this, and fuck, it’s really so embarrassing.
“Alright, that's enough.” A stern voice calls from the side. Thank god for Jin, who finally speaks up in your defense.
You almost thank him, but he adds. “We all know Y/N only has eyes for me.”
The fuck?
Jin shoots you a wink as he walks to the couch where Yoongi is now sitting. You narrow your eyes at the eldest member, unamused.
You try to ignore everyone after that, but in your periphery, you catch Jin swatting the back of Yoongi's neck before strolling off. Yoongi rubs the spot with a quiet glare, and whatever silent conversation just passed between them remains a mystery. You file it away for later.
Right now, you have another problem: One Kim Taehyung. Because this mf cannot have the last laugh.
"Hey, Tae?"
"Yeah?"
You smile sweetly. "Should I tell Angel you swapped bandannas with that influencer during soundcheck?"
His head snaps toward you, the evidence of his flirtatious act hanging on the belt loops of his denims. "...Yah." He says lowly and slowly as he approaches.
"You know." You shrug innocently, backing away. "I wonder if she'd find that interesting."
"Y/N." He takes another step forward.
"All this charity work you’re doing…”
"Don't."
“Shedding your fits to give away… clothes that she procured…”
“Damn, Y/N.”
You smirk. "You started this."
Taehyung points at you accusingly, before hollering, “Hyung!!!”
Your eyes instinctively find Yoongi’s for help. He looks back just as quickly, like he assumed he’s being addressed—the hyung Tae called for.
But then Taehyung stomps straight past Yoongi towards their leader. No matter, your gazes are locked on each other. Meanwhile, Namjoon doesn’t even look up from his book.
“She’s threatening me!” Taehyung complains.
“Oh, you’re still talking about this shit?” Namjoon scoffs, flipping a page.
Taehyung clutches his chest in betrayal. “This is a hate crime. A targeted attack.”
“She got you.” Yoongi deadpans under his breath. “Move on.”
Taehyung lets out a grumble. Yoongi nods at you.
You grin to yourself, your evil cackles following you all the way down the corridor toward Wardrobe. Yeah, no, Tae is in deep shit now.
⊙⊝⊜
[Arlington, TX, August 2026]
So Rei discovers a western bar downtown and decides to make it a tour sluts field trip.
Saddle & Rye, it's called. A cross between a cocktail speakeasy and a honky-tonk dive bar. It surprisingly works. The vibes are so right. Cognac leather booth, warm lighting, and behind the bar, shelves glitter with enough whiskey to make Min Yoongi’s ass spin. You know he luh tha shii.
Meanwhile, you love Tequila. Ever since your own appa poured you your first shot, it’s been your go-to party drink. You love the sexy little ritual, that whole lick, shoot, and suck. You love the burn down your throat and the quick burst of energy that comes with it.
Which apparently is what spurs you on to take the bar’s piece de resistance: a mechanical bull.
“You ever done this before?” The operator gives you a once-over. His name plate reads Cowboy Josh.
“Nope.” You say, popping the p.
“You’re about to eat dirt,” he replies with a toothy grin.
You shrug. “We’ll see.”
You climb onto the mechanical bull to a chorus of cheers from your friends and some guys from another table. Your itty bitty denim shorts ride up a bit, thighs squeaking against the vinyl as you settle in.
You grab the strap as the machine lurches, coming to life with a menacing rumble underneath you.
Fuck. This was harder than you thought, but you can’t fall off in 3 seconds flat. That would just be humiliating.
So you lock in and move with it instinctively, hips following the rhythm like it’s just another piece of choreography to pick up.
The bull bucks harder and the speed increases twofold.
Someone whistles as your torso rolls with every swivel of the bull. You hear Angel absolutely losing her mind somewhere behind her phone.
“GET ITTTT, QUEEN!”
The bull twists sharply to the left and your core engages automatically.
Years of dance take over before your brain even catches up, allowing you to find ways to stay on by shifting your weight and adjusting your grip.
Cowboy Josh cranks it faster and the crowd really starts cheering now.
Feeling emboldened, your one hand holds the strap, and the other shoots up into the air.
The whole bar erupts.
You don’t really know how long you stay on, if it’s enough to get your name on their wall of fame, but eventually, the machine gives one violent spin and you let yourself fall dramatically onto the padded mat, laughing so hard your stomach hurts.
“Give it up for Y/N!” Cowboy Josh hollers before he offers you his hand. “You alright?”
You nod, still laughing as he helps you to your feet. “Yeah.”
“That was actually pretty hot.”
“Thanks.” You barely register the compliment, already searching the crowd. “Angel! Did you get it?”
“Girl!” Angel squeals, waving her phone above her head. “I got ALL of it!”
“Hey.” You glance back and Cowboy Josh is there with a weathered hat in his hands. “You earned this.” Before you can protest, he settles it gently onto your head. “Looks good on you.”
You let out a surprised laugh, not expecting the little prize. “Seriously? Thanks! ”
“Have a good night.” With a tip of his own hat, he heads back.
Rei gives you a teasing look. “The cowboy fell in love,” she says, pulling a piece of paper that’s stuck in the flap of your hat.
She unfolds it and the paper reads a set of digits. Cowboy Josh gave you his number?
“Maybe nobody's stayed on that long in a while.” You shrug, adjusting the brim to hide a little bit of your fluster. You’re still high from the ride, but this whole thing is making you shy.
“He’s kinda cute,” Rei encourages, nodding to where Cowboy Josh is clearly giving you the eyes.
Angel wedges herself between you and Rei, stealing your attention, phone already inches from your nose. "Forget Cowboy Cassanova. Look at YOU."
You watch the video, and it's honestly kind of sexy. You really rode that bull with the confidence of someone who can fuckin' ride anything.
“Send me that.”
She AirDrops it immediately. Without really thinking about it, you forward it to one person. You shove your phone back into your pocket before anybody notices, smiling to yourself.
Barely thirty seconds later, it buzzes.
🙀: Where are you?
You: 🤠
Your phone starts ringing. 🙀calling…
You step away from the table and swipe to answer, the screen clicking against your earring. “Hello?”
“Where are you?” Yoongi’s voice is a little gravelly.
“Texas!”
A tiny huff. “…I know. We flew in at the same time.”
You giggle, already imagining his unimpressed face. “I rode a bull.”
“I saw.”
“I won!”
“What did you win?”
“A cowboy hat,” you beam. “And someone’s number, apparently.”
“I’m not surprised.” Yoongi clears his throat. “You still with the girls?”
“Mhm.”
“How you gettin’ back?”
You glance vaguely around. You’re a little distracted watching Bina pouring a fresh round of shots that you need in you stat. “I dunno yet. Prolly Uber?”
“Stay with the crew, okay?”
You laugh at his authoritative tone. “O-kayyy, dad?”
The line goes dead. You stare at your phone. Did he really just hang up on you?
Fuckin’ Min Yoongi.
The night rolls on anyway. More dancing. More tequila. And did you mention more tequila? The girls somehow convince you to give the bull another go, but by then you're so tipsy you’re basically liquid in a cocktail shaker, so you get launched off in record time.
After that, you step outside with Angel, happily stealing a pull from her vape while the Texas air cools the alcohol buzzing pleasantly beneath your skin.
“Y/N-ssi?”
You turn to find one of BTS’ bodyguards standing a few feet away, hands clasped politely in front of him.
“Hi?”
He bows his head, and you do, too. Angel follows suit despite being in between puffs.
“Yoongi-ssi is here to give you a ride back to the hotel.”
Your mouth dries up, and it’s not from vaping. Did you hear it correctly? Yoongi is here? For you?
“Miss?”
Angel elbows you.
“Oh. Umm. Well, where is he?”
The bodyguard gestures toward the curb. Angel lets out a low whistle as you find a shiny black SUV waiting beneath the streetlights. The rear window slides down and Yoongi sits inside in a black hoodie and cap pulled low, just enough for you to see it’s really him in there.
“Go.” Angel bumps your shoulder with hers. “Your prince charming awaits.”
“Shut up.” You shove her back, a little harder than intended. She yelps dramatically, grabbing onto your arm as both of you nearly topple sideways off the curb in a fit of laughter.
“You're so rude!” she gasps between giggles, swatting your thigh. “I'll tell everyone you ditched us for Cowboy Josh.”
“I would never.”
“But for Min Yoongi?”
You press your lips, fighting the urge for all these pleasant emotions to burst.
“Whatever. He's waiting. Text me?”
You nod, adjusting your tiny saddle bag on your shoulder before heading for the SUV, spring on your feet.
At that time, it didn’t matter why. You’re too overwhelmed with all the emotions of the night. It’s so nice of him to do this and maybe you can show him your gratitude the best way you know how.
The door slides open automatically as you approach. Despite your earlier hesitation, you’re totally heart-eyed when you greet him. “Yoongi, you came for me.”
Before he can say a word, you climb straight into his lap. Because, well you're officially a cowgirl now, aren't you?
A fit of giggles erupts from somewhere at the back. You freeze.
“Jiminie’s here,” Yoongi declares, his hands hovering awkwardly at your waist, like he can't decide whether to steady you or pretend this isn't happening.
Yoongi punctuates his friend’s compliment with a sharp cough.
“Thank you. I wanted to go with the theme,” you say.
“I like the hat.”
“Ah, I won it.” You turn back to Yoongi. “Did you show him the video?”
“No,” Yoongi says firmly, taking the hat from your head and putting it in the empty seat. “I deleted it.”
Wha—?
Jimin laughs like this is all sooo interesting and you’re a little miffed. Is he making fun of you?
And why are Yoongi’s hands so limp on his sides like you’ve got a communicable disease?
“You didn’t like it?” There’s hurt in your voice, and you don’t know why it’s coming out like that.
“It’s not that.”
You pout. “Then why did you delete it?”
“None of your business.”
You cross your arms against your chest, fumes coming out of your nostrils. Jesus. Why is he being a dick? If he was just going to be an asshole to you, then why did he have to come and pick–
“Stop that.”
“Stop what?”
“Pouting.”
You huff, challenging him with your stare. “Why?”
His gaze lands firmly on your lips meaningfully before he shakes his head at you.
In the mix of Tequila and your insanity, something clicks. You don’t hesitate to call him out on his bullshit. “Ahhhh. Cus’ you wanna kiss me so badddd don’t you?”
Your name is spoken like a warning.
But it’s no big deal, right? Just a stupid kiss that means absolutely nothing to either of you. Why are you even putting so much weight on it?
Without ceremony, you lean in but just before your lips touch Yoongi looks away, landing against a plump cheek instead.
“What the fuck, Y/N?”
His voice comes out sharper than usual, but his ears are red even in the dimness of the car.
Jimin has his lips thinned into a small, amused grin as he looks pointedly outside.
Damn. Of course. You STUPID, drunk girl. You can’t act this way with Yoongi. Not around Jimin. Because Jimin… Yoongi loves Jimin.
You clamber out of Yoongi’s lap ungracefully. He lets you off without any resistance. The rest of the ride was spent in silence, even though your thoughts seem louder than bombs.
⊙⊝⊜
“You feeling better?” Yoongi mumbles when you finally see him backstage the next day.
You’re way more put together now, no signs of the messy drunk he had to deal with last night. But you still remember how disgusted he was by your actions and how deeply embarrassing your antics were.
Thank goodness he doesn’t look like he’s offended. Not anymore at least.
“Better.” You reply oh-so-casually even though it’s a night you much rather forget with how monumentally you humiliated yourself. Still, he deserves an apology. “Look, I’m so sorry. I was wasted and I shouldn’t have acted like that. It was so out of line and beyond embarrassing.“
He studies you for a second. "...You done?"
Uh. Dick.
"...Yes."
A corner of his mouth lifts as he reaches to push a strand of hair behind your ear. “You’re good. You know you can always make it up to me."
He’s gone before you can scrape your jaw from the floor.
⊙⊝⊜
The final beats of Into the Sun play loudly from the stadium speakers. The boys emerge from the billowing curtains like literal angels, backlit by stage lights and fireworks.
Yoongi is wearing a cowboy hat. A familiar one, you realize, because it was on your head last night when he found you on the curb of the club. You forgot to bring it with you in your haste to leave the vehicle the moment you arrived at the hotel.
You’re already in your casual clothes since the final ment didn’t require most dancers on stage. But as is tradition, the team usually waits until the members come back in, a moment to celebrate a successful show to pass positivity on before going separate ways.
“Good job, Psyduck.” You say as a pokemon-wearing Namjoon mock-punches your cheek.
Then, it’s Yoongi behind him, grinning lopsided as he makes his way over.
“Nice hat, cowboy.” You say before the familiar musk of Invictus assaults your senses because Yoongi is leaning in, which he has never, ever done before. Not backstage, at least, in front of actual human beings.
So you’re… hugging? Wow. Okay. Sure. That’s not odd behavior at all. Except that’s not even the problem.
His lips brush your ear as he whispers something, and you nearly let out the most embarrassing whine in front of the entire crew.
“Wanna ride me tonight?”
⊙⊝⊜
A little past midnight, you come over with a bottle of Jose Cuervo Gold and a bag of lime slices you picked up on the way and a question of your own. “Truth or dare?”
Leaning against the door frame, Yoongi purses his lips in thought. “Dare.”
“Get drunk with me.” You press the brown bag against his chest and shove him inside.
It doesn’t take long before Yoongi’s already a mess six or seven (6-7!) shots in. You’re faring no better. Both of you butt-naked, giggly, playfully exploring each other with liquor and the game you chose to play tonight.
“Ow!” You swat his arm before rubbing the skin where he planted a pink bouquet with his blunt teeth. “Stop biting me.”
“Why?” He chuckles, looming over you against the couch. “You’re so plump.” Another bite is deposited on your shoulder when he leans in. And one more, a little gentler on the tops of your breasts. Then lower, subtler, against your nipple. You definitely do not fight him for that one.
“Truth or Dare?” He mumbles.
“Dare,” you sigh out.
He chuckles throatily. “Tell me to stop.”
“Nah. You can’t.”
His mouth is slick where he continues to nibble on your nub. “But that’s your dare.”
“Did I say dare? I meant truth.”
“Okay,” Yoongi sits back, pretends to think, but for some reason you believe he already got something simmering. “Rei’s birthday. Did you really mean to say Jin-hyung?”
Your face cracks.
This is… yeah. Yoongi’s downright evil for this.
You suck on your teeth, weigh your options. You remember that night clearly. Maybe too clearly that mortification awashes your features before you can control it. Yoongi observes you with a grin.
You settle for a half-truth. “Yeah, I did mean to say Jin.”
“But?”
“There’s no buts.”
“Hm. Fine.” He takes the bottle and puts it against his lips for a slow drink.
“Truth or dare?” You say.
He wipes the sheen with the back of his palm. “Not playing anymore if we gonna bullsh—“
“Fine. It wasn’t just him. There might have been one more.”
“Now we’re talking.” He lines himself up on your entrance and eases in nice and slow.
Hoooly crap that felt good.
“You gonna say the name or do I have to fuck it out of you?”
“God why are you so...“
He bucks up hard and you choke his name out in shock. “Yoongi!”
“Knew it,” he slurs with a satisfied hum, dropping a kiss on your neck before licking the soft flesh there. “You’re a dirty liar.”
He’s right. You are. If only he knows that every single night you’re with him, this whole situation gets more and more difficult to control.
Yoongi continues to kill you softly, teasing you with his gravelly voice against your ear, his thick cock sliding slowly in and out of your needy pussy.
“Your turn,” you cup his face between your hands, making him level with your eyes. “Truth or dare?”
“Truth.” He replies, tone steady.
The hat sits on the coffee table and you tilt your head towards it. “So you got jealous over a rando?”
“Psh.”
“Had to wear the hat and all, huh? Got sum’ to prove?”
“It’s a good-quality hat. Hand-sewn from a family-run business with like a 100-year heritage.”
“Did you just say heritage?” You laugh a little shrill just to mess with him. “Okay, unc.”
“Check it if you want.”
You should be focused on rocking against his torso, but for some reason, you’re still having a full-on conversation about a random hat??
“Right,” you plant your palms against his chest and push him up into a sitting position. You reach for the hat, not reading the tag because that’s not what you wanted to do, really. Knowing Yoongi, he probably did research about the brand already.
Grinning, you affix it on his head and dear god, there’s something mind-boggling about Yoongi and head gear that you just cannot fathom.
“Sexy,” you nod appreciatively.
Yoongi releases a beautifully pained sigh as you sink down, pussy swallowing his stiff cock whole as you guide him in.
“Why’d you pick me up anyway? Scared I’d go home with him?” You ask when you’re fully seated, wincing a little at the stretch.
“We both know he could never.”
“Never what?”
“Get you all fucked up like this,” Hands over your waist, he pistons upwards so brutally that wind is knocked out of your chest. You grip his shoulders as high-pitched wails are pulled out of you with every upward thrust. “Hear yourself?”
“Ah, fuck you,” you snarl.
The hat leaves his head and goes on top of yours.
Crossing his arms behind his neck, Yoongi looks so infuriatingly relaxed as he goads. “C’mon, cowgirl. Do your thing.”
You lift yourself up, letting him slide out just enough to leave only the fat head of his cock trapped inside your warm walls. He’s watching you closely, curiosity trapped between his teeth and bottom lip, as he waits for your next move.
You swivel your hips, your tongue trailing slowly across the base of your teeth as you do, before slamming back down onto him, drawing the neediest, high-pitched whimper you've ever heard from his throat.
You do it again, bounce your ass against his cock. Same wrecked roar ripping from his chest.
“Fuck, Y/N. You’re breaking my dick.”
You ease back, palms pressing into his thighs while your hips move in a slow, sensual roll, watching his face for every crack in his composure.
“You like this?” You test.
“Fuck. You know I do, baby...” Yoongi looks positively possessed, eyes locked in on each cascade of pleasure you’re creating with your body. “God, your body looks so insane right now.”
“Thought you don't like seeing me like this.”
“What the fuck are you talking about?”
Your eyes dart to the sides, but your mouth betrays you. “Deleted my video. Thought it would impress you.”
Shit-fuck. Why did you just admit that?
A small exhale of breath from him tickles the damp skin on your chest before you feel him move. Fingers curl lightly against your neck, massaging the skin there. You swallow the lump on your throat that bobs underneath his fingers.
“Look at me, Y/N.”
“No.”
He tuts and the subtle pressure of his thumb against your windpipe doubles the bpm of your pulse.
“Baby.”
Of course he calls you that again which is so fucked up. Your eyes drift towards him in surrender.
Yoongi’s eyes are dark, but honest and steady. “You have no idea what I think of you, huh?”
When you shake your head no, he swallows a lump on his throat like a truth he is trying to push down. Under the guise of the game, you pry it out. “I dare you to tell me.”
He shifts carefully, not breaking your connection, as he takes the bottle of Cuervo off the floor and takes a swig before offering it to you. You take a generous gulp, letting the burn trickle down your throat to satiate your nerves.
He takes the bottle back, and closes in to nuzzle his nose on your collarbone. “You’re so fuckin’ sexy… Can come just by imagining how you feel around me…”
“Oh?”
“Mmh.”
“So you’ve jacked off to thoughts of me?”
“So many fucking times.” He smiles stupidly when he lifts his head to meet your gaze. “Now lean back.”
You already miss the warmth of his lips on your skin when you rest your palms against the muscles on his knees. But you do as he says.
Yoongi takes the bottle of tequila again, pours the amber liquid on your chest, trailing towards the tip of your taut nipple where his tongue quickly flickers out to catch it. “Ahh these tits.”
You cup the side of his jaw as he suckles it a few times more before he continues. “Best I ever tasted.”
You moan. Fuck you can’t hold it in.
“You know I can’t stop thinking about y… this. It’s fucking me up.”
Between the praise and pleasure and the heady scent of alcohol, you might be going insane. Because whatever Yoongi is saying cannot be real. You’re both drunk, dumb, loose with words, careless with consequences.
“…Beautiful,” he murmurs, lifting his head to press a kiss on the inside of your wrist, inhaling the scent of your perfume, before guiding both of your hands over his shoulders.
Instinctively, your fingers find each other behind his neck.
Your arms tighten around him like second nature. Yoongi folds into you at the same time, forehead pressing against yours as the last of the tension shudders out of both of you.
Now there’s no more teasing, no smart remarks, and no space. Just his breath mingling with yours and the strange, dizzy feeling of being held so tight by someone you never want to let go of.
You find yourself in this situation again. When your rule seems to be moot. Because all you want is the feel of his lips, when his mouth is right fucking there, so close that you feel the warmth of his next breath. Your faces are steady, locked, even as the rest continues to roll forward, chasing the high that your bodies need though your heart is bloody screaming for something else.
For one suspended second, it feels inevitable.
Then Yoongi turns just slightly, making the decision for you. Maybe he knows not to press your buttons anymore, so he presses his cheek to yours instead. You close your eyes and hold him tighter, pretending the ache in your chest is only the tequila, only the aftermath, only anything but what it actually is.
It takes almost nothing after that. One last desperate pull of each other closer and the pleasure breaks through you both at once, your bodies going taut before collapsing together, breathless and trembling. You bury your face against his neck as he holds you, talks you through it, and for those few stolen, dangerous seconds, it feels less like coming apart and more like becoming whole.
⊙⊝⊜
You give yourself grace to stay a little longer tonight out of sheet exhaustion. Yoongi doesn’t seem in any rush to let you go either, one arm still draped loosely around you as you rest on the couch side by side.
For a while, neither of you says much. You just exist there together, limbs tangled, trading the bottle of water back and forth until the silence starts to feel almost domestic. Eventually, Yoongi pushes himself upright and runs a hand through his already-ruined hair, somehow making it worse, then glances toward the bathroom.
“You wanna shower?” he asks, like it isn’t the first time he offered.
“Are you sure we’re even gonna fit in there? It looks like a small shower.” It isn’t. It’s huge. Probably has four kinds of showerheads and all.
Yoongi laughs, tilting his head for you to follow. Then, almost as an afterthought. “Jimin and I used to shower together when we were writing the album.”
Throat tightening unexpectedly, you manage. “…oh, is that so?”
He shrugs, entirely too casual.
You thought it weird, to say that so randomly, and maybe it’s also why you blurt. “You two also fuck?” The question slips out of your mouth so suddenly, you spot the change of expression on his face.
You’re dangling off a precipice. All you need is a no to tug you back into safety.
His mouth quirks. Just one corner. That annoying, knowing half-smirk. He doesn’t really answer, which is an answer in itself.
“Right,” you mutter, pushing yourself up. “Of course.”
He watches you for a second longer than necessary, something amused flickering in his features, like he’s clocked the shift, like he’s enjoying it just a little.
“You look cute when you’re jealous.” He says, pinching your cheek lightly.
You swat him away immediately as you walk towards the bath. “Please.”
His chuckles echo along the tiles as he follows you in. You could say Jimin could never. Like he’s said about the random cowboy. But that would be a lie.
The shower is meant to be just that. But when the water runs hot, the space shrinks as his soapy hands roam all over your body, until lust fogs the glass.
⊙⊝⊜
Back in your own hotel room, underneath clean sheets to hide your muddled thoughts, you huff out a dry laugh to yourself.
Jimin.
You love Jimin. You really do.
But now you can’t stop picturing it.
And it annoys you more than it should. Not because it matters. It doesn’t. They’ve got history. They’re family. But still there’s something about realizing, over and over again, that Yoongi is exactly who you think he is. Or was? You can’t tell anymore.
You flop to your side and hug your pillow tighter. “This is fine,” you mutter to no one.
It is. It has to be.
⊙⊝⊜
[Toronto, CA, August 2026]
There are always people backstage, staff and stylists and friends of friends and people who somehow know somebody important enough to get escorted past security, so when you catch sight of a woman standing near the couches talking to Yoongi, you barely give it a second thought.
Until you look again. And then, unfortunately, again.
Cropped hair, cropped top, tight jeans. She’s beautiful, edgy. Someone that should be hanging out with rockstars, just like she is now.
Yoongi is leaning back against the arm of the couch, listening to her with that small, private smile he gets when somebody says something genuinely funny, and every now and then she touches his forearm when she talks, easy and familiar.
Which, okay. People touch. You touch people. You practically live in Namjoon’s personal space when you’re together. This could mean nothing.
Speak of the devil, Namjoon is standing in front of you, holding out a bottle of water. “You good?”
“Perfect.”
He gives you a look that says you are very obviously not perfect, but thankfully doesn’t push.
You take the bottle anyway because rehearsals were brutal today in the humidity and you really are very thirsty.
“She looks familiar,” you say eventually, mostly because the question has been scratching at the inside of your skull for the last five minutes and Namjoon happens to be standing beside you, scrolling through something on his phone.
He glances up, follows your line of sight, then makes a small sound of recognition.
“Oh. Her?”
“Mhm.”
“She’s a singer.” And almost as an afterthought. “Yoongi’s ex.”
“That’s why she’s familiar. I mean, familiar cos she’s a singer, not because she’s Yoongi’s ex. I mean I dunno who Yoongi’s exes are or who even is he dating…”
Namjoon looks at you all funny.
You stare back, willing yourself not to unravel any further.
“We okay today, Y/N?”
You give him a thumbs up and take another long drink from your bottle. Thankfully, Namjoon turns back to his phone.
Yoongi has exes.
You have exes.
Normal, functioning, adults have entire histories full of people they loved, fucked, hated, blocked, unblocked, drunk-texted at three in the morning and then pretended never existed again. This is not groundbreaking information and you are not sixteen years old, so there is absolutely no reason for something so goddamn juvenile to crawl underneath your skin the way it does.
Still, you glance back.
She says something that makes Yoongi duck his head, his gummy smile flashing for barely a second before he shakes it away, and for some reason that gets you more than the hand on his arm ever could.
“How long were they together?” you ask.
Namjoon pauses.
You immediately hate yourself. Why the fuck did you just ask that?!
“I don’t know,” Namjoon says, thinking. “A while, I think.”
Fucking fantastic.
“It was forever ago.”
See, it was eons ago. So you stop yourself there.
Jesus Christ.
You need to get a grip.
Finally, you sense the woman is saying goodbye. But before that, she hands him a rectangular box from behind her, a gift.
Oh Yoongi is grinning wide. Because in that box sits his favorite Hibiki, a Japanese whisky he’s once told you about. Of course it’s something that someone who really knows him would bring.
Not a shitty bottle of Cuervo from a dingy 7-11.
Crop Top is leaning in to hug Yoongi before stepping back with one hand still curled loosely around his arm.
Yoongi smiles at her. You kinda hate how much history can apparently fit inside a gesture that lasts all of three seconds.
Then his gaze lifts and finds yours. Brows raised, smile still gummy, nodding at you like you’re not currently malfunctioning, that proved to be all you can handle.
You look away immediately, distracting Namjoon into a conversation. “I saw Angel unboxing like ten million new Pokemon hats earlier.”
“Why didn’t you lead with that? Let’s go.” Namjoon wraps his hand on your wrist, dragging you to wardrobe.
Across the room, you don’t look back to see whether Yoongi is still watching.
⊙⊝⊜
[Chicago, IL, August 2026]
The soju was originally supposed to be one bottle.
That’s what all of you say every single time before someone inevitably comes back from the convenience store downstairs with plastic bags digging into their wrists and a grin that means everybody’s doomed.
Now there are empty green bottles crowding the table between you and Rei’s beds, somebody’s fried chicken gone cold in the corner, music playing softly from a phone speaker while the city lights blink beyond the hotel windows.
Your cheeks already hurt from laughing.
Angel is halfway lying across the carpet, dramatically fanning herself with a room service menu while Bina recounts the worst hookup she’s ever had in excruciating detail.
“No, because why was he moaning louder than me?” she cries.
Another round of reckless laughter fills the air. Oh how you love nights like this.
“That’s so traumatic,” Rei wheezes.
“That’s why you gotta stay loyal to Kookie.” Angel says. “I don’t even know why you’re chasing other dicks.”
“Damn. A girl has needs and he’s been all over the map lately.”
“Okay, okay. That’s fair,” Angel says, pointing lazily around the room. “Everybody answer. Worst sex you’ve ever had.”
“Like ever? I gotta go browse the archives.” Rei says.
“Past year only,” Tiff says.
Stories spill after that easier than the alcohol does. Awkward one-night stands. Exes. Men who cried after sex. Men who thought they were doms because they listened to one podcast.
Until somehow, unfortunately, the conversation lands on you.
Which is highly inconvenient, because you don’t want to talk about your sex life aka Min Yoongi. But also, if you’re really honest with yourself, you’re still a little bruised from seeing him friendly with an ex. And you’re definitely not thinking about the fact that he basically admitted to fucking Park Jimin. Both are completely normal things that shouldn’t affect you, but it does.
“I’m good… no complaints.” You shrug, hoping that they will let you get away with that. And you’re not trying to be dismissive. It is the truth. Besides, you can’t complain about getting exactly what you signed up for.
Unfortunately, the vague statement seems to pique everybody’s interest more.
“She’s getting dicked down good. Damn.” Tiff nods approvingly.
“No, seriously,” Bina points. “What even is your situation right now?”
“What situation?”
“Oh brother,” Tiff snorts.
“The Min Yoongi situation,” Gwayoung deadpans.
Honestly, it’s a little awkward with her around. She gives you the creeps, but Rei’s been friendly with her lately so you guess it’s fine. You know she’s in Yoongi’s lineup too, even if you have not spoken directly about it.
Heat climbs your neck and you try to hide it with a light drag of your nails. “There is no Min Yoongi situation.”
“Bitch?” Angel chimes, high-pitched.
Tiff cackles into her soju glass. “Please. That man cleared the board for you.”
Your head snaps toward her. “What?”
“Dismissed all them other hoes. Deadass.” Angel adds. “No offense, Gwa.”
“Oh my god, girl. Just facts,” Gwayoung shrugs, already too drunk to censor herself. “Tried to flirt with him two weeks ago and he literally blew me off.”
The room howls.
“That’s… wow,” Bina nods solemnly.
“I know!” Gwayoung cries. “I looked amazing too.”
“And that American dancer?” Tiff continues. “The one that joined for two weeks?”
“The redhead?” Rei slurs, head tilting sideways from being uncharacteristically plastered tonight.
“Yes, the redhead. She was practically throwing ass at him throughout the show then tried something backstage, but he shut her down.”
You hate the warmth blooming in your chest at that. Hate. It. So. Much. 😃
Because despite all your rules and all your attempts to keep this detached and manageable and casual, you like hearing that.
You lower your drink, trying very hard to look unaffected. “Maybe he has some other people we don’t know...”
“Oh my god,” Bina groans. “Look at her trying to downplay this.”
“I’m literally not.” You mock-whine.
“Your face, bro…” Tiff teases.
You roll your eyes, taking a sip of your drink before your smile can betray you further.
“No, but seriously,” Rei hiccups. “Min Yoongi is a changed man.”
Tiff snorts. “Changed from what?”
Rei squints, thinking far too hard for someone this intoxicated. “Back then? Oh my god. Rotation king.” She continues when the girls egg her to spill the tea.. “No because when we slept together—”
But all you can hear is: ‘…when we slept together.’
Rei and Yoongi?
Rei’s eyes widen as realization finally catches up to her alcohol-soaked brain. “Ages ago!” she blurts immediately. “Oh my god, it was ages ago. Like 8-9 years back… You weren’t even in the team yet.”
You stare at her and can’t even mask the hurt in your eyes.
Because Rei. Rei knew everything. From the beginning.
She knew about Hannam. She comforted you when you got swerved. You came clean after Madrid. When she clocked you backstage and when you went home with cartoon hearts
floating above your head.
Rei knew your secrets and yet, she couldn’t tell you hers.
“I literally don’t even remember what his dick looks like,” Rei says flippantly. “Just know he’s big.”
“Rei, the fuck?!” Angel mutters like she too has had enough.
“What?!”
You stand too quickly. “I’m gonna…” You grab your hoodie blindly. “I need a fuckin’ cigarette.”
“Y/N—”
But you’re already heading for the door.
“Oh, come on,” Rei groans behind you. “I didn’t tell you because you’re so in love with him! Tsss… oh my god, Y/N. Come back!”
The words hit like a car crash.
You don’t even know if the room goes quiet after that because your ears are ringing too hard.
The hallway outside feels freezing in comparison as you run towards the fire exit. Not even a minute later the door opens again.
“Hey,” Angel says softly, handing you her vape.
You don’t answer. You just take it and take a long drag until a white cloud surrounds you.
Just lean against the wall, arms folded tightly across yourself like you can physically hold everything in place.
Angel sighs, coming to stand beside you. For a while, neither of you says anything, just passing the vape back and forth until your breaths taste like cherry.
“That was so fucking embarrassing,” you admit finally.
Angel’s expression softens instantly. “Baby…”
“She knew.” Your voice cracks. “I told her everything and, oh my god, I feel like such an idiot.”
“That’s not true.”
“It feels true.”
You slide down the wall, sitting on the cold floor as the past five minutes replay in your mind’s eye like a horror story. “Why does he have to be such a fuckboy bro, like?”
“Reformed fuckboy?”
You groan, pressing your palms against the socket of your eyes.
Angel settles down beside you. “For what it’s worth, I do think he likes you.”
You laugh bitterly. “That almost makes it worse.”
Because if he likes you, then what the fuck is this? Sneaking around hotel floors. Texts at 2 a.m. Nothing to hold on to but a Kakao filled with suggestive messages.
“What are you thinking?”
“I dunno… I hate Rei. I hate him. I hate this. I feel so stupid.”
Angel watches your face carefully before saying, very gently. “You, my love, are a queen. Queens are allowed to have shit days too. ”
“Rei fucked up. She’s wasted as hell. Let her apologize when she’s sober.”
Angel takes the vape back, staring ahead for a second.
“And Yoongi… he’s Min Yoongi, babe. He’s got history. So do you. You’re probably not gonna love every single thing he’s done before you.” She glances at you. “But like… are you gonna keep judging him for who he was, or actually look at what he’s been showing you now?”
You close your eyes briefly.
Angel’s optimism sounds nice, but you’re not sure if it fits. Not when Yoongi has rejected you many times before. Not when the biggest thing staring you in the face is that you’re not even together. Not when there really is nothing beyond this.
So really, you don’t get to ask where this is going when there isn’t technically anything to go anywhere.
“Thank you for being a good friend,” you tell Angel quietly. That much, at least, you know for sure and she deserves to hear that.
You find yourself bunking with her and Tiff that night, because you can’t go back to your room and face Rei again. Hell no. But as you try to cling to sleep, you realize that beneath the hurt, beneath the wounded pride and jealousy, Rei is right about one thing.
You fell too deep.
The difference is, Yoongi was never going to dive in after you. Maybe he can’t. He’s Min Yoongi: world-famous, wanted by everyone, living a life where whatever this is between you can only ever exist in dark SUVs, and locked hotel rooms.
So fuck Hannam. Shared ramyeon. Pickleball. Madrid. Fuck all that.
Wanting more than that would mean asking him for something his life has never really allowed.
You just hate that you were stupid enough to hope anyway.
⊙⊝⊜
[Los Angeles, CA, Sept 2026]
Yoongi: wanna come over?
You: i cant
Yoongi: i can go to you
You: no
Yoongi: why
You: cos im done
A/N: Well, what do we think?
*goes into hiding*
Thank you for reading you lovely, beautiful human xo
Pairings: Demon!BTS x f!reader, Yoongi x reader (main), everyone x everyone
Summary: You accidentally summon a demon and manage to make him mess up his ritual to get back home. Now you're stuck with a morally grey squad of hell dwellers who take you in and promise to try and bring you back to where you belong. Getting to know them during your warm holiday down south makes it clear though, that you're not the only one in need of help.
Genre: Fluff, smut, reverse harem, comedy, crack, found family, trauma and angst
Fic Warnings: MDNI, explicit sexual content, blasphemy, lots of trauma. See Hell Yeah Masterlist for a full list of genres and warnings!
Chapter Warnings: More frat house energy and cheeky remarks; a guest appearance; we finally get to see the communal showers; we learn more about Joon, Jimin and Yoongi -> trauma dump alert, overall fic warnings in the Hell Yeah Masterpost apply for this chap specifically!
Smut warnings: tender smut bc we need it, lots of kisses and eye contact, soft dirty talk, fingering, PiV
When you slowly come out of your slumber, Tae is still clinging to you like a koala with his usual morning wood poking your hip. You really need to stretch your limbs, feeling all stiff from being in the same position all night, so you stroke his arm to wake him up. He just hums, the caress not making him stir even a tiny bit.
“Tae,” you whisper and shove at his shoulder with gentle force and he finally squirms against you.
“Yeah?” he mumbles all groggy and it comes out sounding more like a groan, his grip around you getting even tighter.
“I gotta get up,” you tell him after checking your phone with your free hand. “And you should too. It’s already time for breakfast.”
“Ugh,” he complains and finally lifts his limbs off your body. “If I have to… In like five minutes.”
Instead of making any efforts to get up, he rolls over on his other side and pulls the blanket with him, leaving you to feel a breeze that reminds you that you’re not wearing anything other than his t-shirt. You get up and start looking for that pesky thong you put on for Yoongi initially, and find it somewhere on the floor between the foot of the bed and Tae’s dresser. While bending down to pick it up, you notice the residual of Taehyung’s handprint on your left ass check when you glance at yourself in the mirror. Looks kind of hot if you're being honest and you stare at the reflection for a moment longer.
After putting on yesterday’s thong, just for the way back to your room, you collect the rest of your stuff and step into the corridor. You can’t wait to change into some more comfortable underwear. You’re walking fast, not really keen on meeting anyone on your super short walk of fame, until you almost bump into Yoongi, who comes out of his door just as you’re passing it.
“Morning,” you say, putting on a bit of a fake smile as you pass him.
“Hi,” he replies, eyes following you on your way. “You sleep well?”
“Mhh, yeah,” you hum without turning towards him. Still a little bitter about yesterday, you stretch your arms above your head to give Yoongi a good idea of how well you slept as Tae’s shirt rises above your hips and reveals your ass, giving him a full view of that handprint as well as the waistband of the thong he hand-picked from your closet but never got to see in action before.
You can hear Yoongi cough, seemingly choking on his own spit, and you chuckle to yourself.
“Are you alright?” you ask, barely containing the entertainment in your voice.
“Oh um,” he mutters, then clears his throat. “Yeah, of course.”
It’s the fastest you’ve ever seen him move at this hour when he walks off as if in a hurry and you finally enter your bedroom.
After getting ready, you head downstairs, joining the others at breakfast. You expected Yoongi to already be there, but scanning the room as you sit down in your spot, the place at the head of the table is vacant. You wince when your ass makes contact with the hard chair and Hobi snickers next to you.
“I guess you found a certain someone to help you out yesterday,” he states with a big fat grin.
Even Joon can’t refrain from dropping a remark. “I’m sure Tae was more fun than Hobi’s pity-fingering would have been.”
Oh god. You totally humiliated yourself in front of the two, begging hem to fuck you and getting declined. Must have repressed that memory.
“Who got pity-fingered?” Jeongguk asks with a raised eyebrow as he walks in with a tray of food.
“No one,” Tae says while sitting down as well. “I finger with my whole heart. You know that.”
“Hell yeah, I know that,” Jimin sighs, propping his cheek up against his hand.
“Yeah,” Joon nods in agreement.
There's the Cullen-esque craziness again. What would a morning in hell even be without it?
“Well,” Jimin speaks up again. “Show us the evidence at least.”
“Of the fingering?” you gasp.
“No silly, of why your ass hurts when you sit down,” he explains. “Or did he just fuck you too rough? I’ve been telling you to tone it down a bit, Tae.”
You should be used to this by now, shouldn’t you? Still, you shake your head while pouring yourself a cup of coffee. “I’m not showing you my ass at the breakfast table, Jimin.”
“That’s not fair, you saw mine last night,” he mumbles, all sad, poking around his food with slumped shoulders. “Maybe at lunch then…”
Before you can reply, a choir of phones buzzing and dinging suddenly goes off. What the hell is happening now? Some kind of demon alarm?
“Chill,” Hobi tells you when he sees the quizzical look on your face. “It’s just the group chat.”
He turns his display towards you.
While the others seem to take Yoongi’s message at face value, Joon looks a little wary about it but then just sighs and pockets his phone again, digging into the food like the rest of them.
After breakfast, Joon's on dish duty again and you offer to help, not without an ulterior motive though. You were hoping to get him alone, a question burning on your tongue.
“Whatever it is, just say it,” Joon begs you after some awkward silence while you tried to figure out how to not put your foot in your mouth once again.
“Um, well,” you sigh. “First of all, I’m super fucking sorry for barging in yesterday and asking Hobi and you to… you know.”
He looks up at you while placing dirty cups in the washer, raising an amused brow before drying his hands. “No worries, the horn from hell got us all acting crazy at some point.”
Incidentally, Joon's already playing around with the golden band on his finger, making your eyes snap to it.
“Oh,” he says as he follows your gaze to his hand, stilling his fidgeting fingers. “About that, huh?”
“You can just say that you’re not interested, you know. It’s no problem, really. I won’t take it personally or anything. But you don’t have to lie about being married. Like, come on,” you chuckle at the last part.
Joon doesn’t find it funny apparently, leaning against the counter with a slightly annoyed expression. “I am married. Why would I lie about that?”
It's your turn to get a little annoyed now as well. Does he think you have the memory of a goldfish?
“Cause I saw you fuck Hobi and I’m pretty sure he’s not the one you’re married to. And from what I'm gathering he’s not the only one you're sleeping with here either. Which is fine of course! But a married man wouldn’t do that, I guess?”
He frowns and it’s obvious he’s trying his best not to scowl at you as he sighs while rubbing his temple. “Ever heard of an open relationship?”
“How couldn’t I, now that I live here with all that polyamory going on?”
“We’re not… That’s something entirely different.”
“Yeah, sure,” you shake your head. “But why would you use marriage as an excuse then? If your relationship is open anyway.”
“First of all, it wasn’t an excuse,” Joon insists and pushes the dishwasher’s door shut with his knee. “The second takes longer to explain, so let’s go sit down in the living room.”
You follow him quietly, eager to finally learn what his secrecy is all about. Hopefully he doesn’t take it the wrong way and thinks you’re prying just because you can’t handle being rejected. It might have accelerated your curiosity though.
You get comfortable on the big couch, legs tucked up on the seat, while Joon is still pacing up and down.
“I hit another sore subject, didn’t I?”
Joon stops, slightly startled as if your voice pulled him out of his thoughts, and finally turns to you. “Yeah, I mean, no. It’s alright. I just haven’t talked about it in a while.”
With a deep sigh he drops down on the cushion next to you. “So, I’m not a liar,” he starts and pulls off the ring, twirling it between his fingers before he holds it up to your face.
There’s a word engraved on the inside, in Hangul, which you can actually decipher thanks to Yoongi’s spell. It’s a name.
“Anna?” you ask.
“Uh huh,” Joon nods. “My wife’s name. She also hated playing chess with me.”
He breathes out a little laugh.
“So she’s still on earth?” you ask carefully.
“Yeah.”
Oh thank god. For a second you thought she might be dead or something.
“So you visit her up there?”
“I do sometimes. Not as often as I’d like to. It’s not easy catching her actually. Especially because I can’t risk her seeing me.”
“Huh?” you ask, utterly confused now. “I would have thought you’d spend the little time you can to stay up there with her. Not watching her from the shadows.”
“I’m trying to figure out how to word this best.” He chews the skin of his lower lip. “She thinks I’m dead.”
“What?” Your eyes widen at this information, eyebrows shooting up. “You let your wife think you died? She must have been devastated!”
Joon nods, not meeting your eyes.
“Why?!”
“Because I want her to live a good life. Not wait for me. For the few hours I can spend up there. She deserves someone she can grow old with. Someone who can love her 24/7.”
That actually makes sense. Of course Joon would have a noble reason to do this to her. A sliver of shame is tugging at your conscience for judging his choices right away.
“I know it’s not great, I know I made her suffer,” Joon keeps explaining himself. “But it would have been worse if she knew I was still alive. I brought enough misery to her life, I couldn’t keep her chained to me through all of… this.” He gestures around himself, even though you didn’t need the clarification, being stuck down here yourself.
“I know I’ve only known you for a little while, but I can’t really imagine you making anyone’s life miserable. Other than with board games, maybe. I doubt that was the issue, right?”
Joon has been nothing but nice and helpful to you from the very beginning and seems to be looking after the other demons with dedication as well, especially Yoongi. You can tell he’s loved and respected, so what in the world could he have done that was so bad?
He huffs a humourless laugh. “Well, I wasn’t who I am now when I landed here. With the addiction and all.”
Oh, right. The addiction probably put a huge strain on their relationship.
“Hm, I guess that would mess with any marriage. But she stayed with you through it all though. That’s really admirable. She must have been so worried for you.”
“Worried sick, actually. I turned her into a shell of herself.”
“So, can I ask, why did you sign your life away to the devil? To cure your addiction?”
“No, to cure hers.”
Oh. Shit. Oh fuck. “Namjoon, I am so-”
“Don’t.” He holds up his hand, motioning for you to stop apologizing. “It’s fine, I can tell you the gist. I got addicted first. Opioids, I think I already told you that. Really easy to obtain as a doctor, you know? It went on for a while, no one noticed at first and I was pretty damn good at hiding it. But Anna knew I was different the minute I entered the house. She didn’t say much after I denied it for a week straight. And then, at the peak of my consumption I noticed tablets missing. Because I always knew exactly how much I had left.”
Joon takes a deep, shaky breath. He stops his knees from bobbing up and down by leaning on them with his elbows and puts his face in his hands for a moment before he sits back up and continues.
“Took a while for me to catch on that she kept taking a few here and there.”
You just gulp and nod, not knowing what to say to everything he just revealed to you. There’s not really anything that can be said to make him feel better.
“Then I started monitoring her consumption,” he goes on, then breathes out a sour laugh with raised brows, shaking his head. “I even slipped her some pills when I noticed she had withdrawal symptoms. Because I knew what it felt like. Like the fucking great doctor I am. Lead her right into addiction and kept it going without ever saying anything.”
This is devastating, you can tell it’s eating Joon up. Probably has for ages now. And he’s not wrong, he shouldn’t have given her more pills, but he was trying to make her feel better in a really fucked up way.
“I know you don’t want to hear this and it doesn’t help,” you turn your body on the couch so you’re fully facing him and put your hand on his shoulder, that has slumped significantly in the course of the past few minutes. “You didn’t exactly do the best thing, but you were struggling yourself. And you didn’t want her to feel sick I guess. It was a really bad situation for both of you.”
He hums, nodding at your words. “I could tell she was getting worse fast, even through my own drug induced haze. And I knew I couldn’t help her, with how fucked up I was myself. I just wished I could undo everything and get her clean without her having to suffer through withdrawals.”
“And then Bang PD appeared?” you ask, guessing it must have been similar to what Taehyung told you.
“Yeah, that bastard can sniff out misery like a truffle pig. Had the contract ready and everything. And I just signed, not really believing it would do anything. Honestly I thought he was a con artist but my mind was so clouded from the opioids and I just hoped it would be an easy way out for Anna. Now I wish I’d done it the right way and sent us both to rehab.”
“I mean yeah, that would’ve been the sensible way, but who would think a deal with the devil actually worked? No one in their right mind.”
“And I definitely wasn’t in my right mind, I can tell you that much,” he says, having composed himself a bit.
“So was Anna immediately cured? And when did you get sucked down to hell?”
“Both happened instantly. Her cure and my arrival here. I couldn’t even think straight and I was alone. Then I got fucked up more and more until Yoongi came. And after he made me go cold turkey and I got a bit of my wits back, weeks had gone by. She must have thought I left her, or overdosed and died in a ditch.” He bites the inside of his cheek, eyes slowly trailing across the wood pattern on the floor. “I failed her in so many ways. And I knew I couldn’t stay up on earth with her for even a day. Back then we all didn’t know about the loopholes, so we thought it was eternity for us down here. And she would have grown old while I’d stay like this. That’s why I faked my death, so I could give her a second chance at actually having a good partner, with me gone.”
The pain in Joon's eyes makes your own threaten to well up. You swallow the tears down, this is not about you and you know it would make him go into care-mode. Instead of letting the sadness get a hold of you, you pull Joon into a quick, reassuring hug, patting his back before retreating again.
“How did you even go about faking your death, with you being stuck here and all?”
Another question you couldn't suppress and might regret asking. But the topic seems to redirect Joon's focus from the devastating memories to a more technical matter. Maybe your big mouth was good for something for once.
“Technically, it wasn't me who orchestrated it. As much as I despise Bang, he has some handy contacts on earth.”
“Are they demons too? No, right, they couldn't work on earth?”
Joon actually laughs now, a sound that feels like balm on a wound after he's been so torn up during the whole conversation.
“Oh, no, they are humans. Some metal head satanists, basically a fan club of our head devils, if you can believe it. They’re called the Department of Southernmost Affairs, but we usually just call it the DSA.”
You snort, of course it would be some wannabe satanists. Although - in this case they are working for the devil.
“They staged a crash with my car, making it look like I was ejected through the windshield. Left my ID in there for the authorities to find. They never found a body, so they started a search. Obviously futile, but they declared me dead after a while when they couldn't locate me.”
It seems like Joon wants to wrap up the conversation, as he’s looking at a new message on his phone.
“Well, to your initial question,” he says. “I’m kinda married, even though she doesn’t know I’m alive. I still miss her and want to go back to her, if she hasn’t found someone new whenever and if I figure out my loophole. That’s why I don’t really hook up with people. Sometimes it happens with the guys, but that’s only when the horn from hell is unbearable and to me it’s more like a physical relief, you know? It’s platonic. And it works ‘cause we are like family. I hope she’ll understand that if I get the chance to ever explain myself to her.”
Before you can reply, the doorbell rings and interrupts you mid thought. It startles you, eyes snapping towards the hallway. Is this Bang PD again? Probably not, he didn’t exactly announce his arrival last time.
“Ah,” Joon says and gets up from the couch. “He’s here.”
Now who the hell is he? You groan at the lack of explanation and curiosity makes you follow Joon to the entrance hall with quick steps, your naked feet pattering along the floor. It’s so warm down here, you rarely even bother to put on shoes now.
Joon pulls open the heavy wooden door, revealing an innocuous looking dude on the other side, another Korean man you assume, wearing glasses and a black bucket hat. He steps in and side-hugs Joon casually. Must be a friend, then?
His face lights up when he spots you behind Joon and puts out his hand.
“Hiya,” he greets you, gripping your hand to shake it. “I’m Tablo. Heard so much about you already!”
“Uh, hi,” you return the greeting, glad to see a friendly face other than the guys.
“What’s with the long faces?” Tablo investigates, looking between Joon and you. The effects of the conversation from earlier must still be visible. “Did ya find out about the weird in-department incest around here?”
Finally, someone that gets you! Your face lights up instantly.
Joon groans. “For fuck’s sake, it’s not incest. How many times do I have to tell you? Pick up a dictionary.”
“Yeah, sure. You know all of hell is talking about it, right?”
Oh. So it’s not the norm to fuck your direct … colleagues? You figured this was the standard procedure somehow.
“So it is kinda weird,” you conclude.
“Hell yeah it is,” Tablo says, making his way to the living room where he throws himself onto the sofa. “No way I’d ever fuck Mithra. But you guys have your own special little arrangement going on, right Joonie?”
“Shut up man,” Joon sighs as he sits down next to your newly found partner in crime and boxes his shoulder. “I don’t even partake… that often.”
“Sure you don’t,” Tablo chuckles, then looks at you. “What did you think about it when you found out?”
“I um,” you clear your throat, still debating if you should sit down with them or leave them to it. “I’ve been telling them that it reminds me of Twilight. They’re like-”
“The Cullens!” Tablo and you say at the same time and you both laugh while Joon dramatically puts a hand over his eyes.
“Not our fault you guys won’t use dating apps like us civilized demons do,” Tablo shrugs. “I gave up trying to hook them up with people at the clubs. Although, Tae and Jeongguk… they’re a little more open to branch out at least.”
“I heard,” you snicker.
Once Tablo and you finally manage to stop laughing, Joon speaks up again.
“Well, guess I can save myself introducing you to each other."
You learn that Tablo is actually not just another random demon, but to your absolute surprise, another Prime Devil, like Bang PD. Joon and him met when the DSA figured out his fake death, because Tablo is actually the hellish contact for the metal heads working there.
“So what’s that department’s job? Can’t only be faking deaths, right?” you inquire about their daily business.
“We didn't really know either until Jin got released back to earth. Honestly, never cared to ask. Apparently they are also really helpful for retired demons. Helped with setting up accounts, finding a home and also providing funds. They also gave me some contacts, so I could hook the boys up with therapists that know about our whole deal down here. No idea what other business they are involved in though, honestly,” Joon gives you his input first.
So even Satan grants his slaves something resembling a union. Very interesting.
Tablo laughs. “My guys are responsible for anything demons need help with up there. I got some real allrounders working there. Real supportive bunch. Even if they look kinda scary.”
That dude is funny and talks even more than Joon, which you figure out in a matter of minutes. If only Bang PD was chill like him, the guys would probably have never gotten into the mess they're all in. You leave them to it after a while, giving the two yappers the space they clearly need. A third person talking would only escalate the conversation. So you walk up to your room, still chuckling about the Twilight references. Hopefully he’ll come by more often.
Back in your room, sprawled out on your bed, scratching Lucy’s little head and not focusing on the movie playing at all, you reflect on what Joon has disclosed to you about his past. You feel a bit guilty for accusing him of lying about being married, but to your defense - with what you’ve witnessed going on down here, anyone would’ve doubted him probably. Especially now that you know that’s not just general demon customs, but specific to them.
It’s good that Yoongi was there to support him when he landed here.
Thinking of Yoongi, you wonder when he’ll be back. Judging by Joon’s reaction to his text, the story about Bang PD’s spontaneous quest might be a ruse. If he keeps that mysterious act up you might as well explode. You should talk to him… Or better yet, he should talk to you! Be the mid-management demon he is and take responsibility instead of hiding away because he’s embarrassed or whatever reason he might pretend to have for how he's behaving.
There’s a knock on your door in the late afternoon, pulling you out of your spiraling thoughts and Hobi peeks his head in with a smile. “Wanna do something fun?”
“Oh god, yes,” you tell him. It’s not like you have anything else going on.
He opens the door and throws a silky fabric your way, it lands on your knee and slithers right off. A bathrobe. Louis Vuitton, obviously. “Well, then get changed and bring your skincare,” he says, shaking his own bag of products. “We’re having a spa day. I’ll wait for you in the hallway.”
Sounds great! Perfect actually, and very much needed. You hurry out of your clothes and throw the robe on, which feels exquisitely soft and delicate on your skin, you have to admit. Then you get the vanity bag with the few things you have down here and make your way to the corridor, tightening the silk belt so that the danger of having a tit fall out of the robe is minimised.
“Are we going to your room?” you ask Hobi.
He just shakes his head with a big grin.
“You're finally going to experience the much talked about communal bathroom downstairs.”
“Ah, the infamous orgy showers?” you only half-joke.
“Don’t worry, there are no suspicious stains,” he chuckles while descending to the ground floor.
You take a turn towards the staircase leading to the basement, walking behind Hobi. His robe is golden brown and silky as well, scattered with tiny Gucci logos. “Since when are you repping a different brand?” you ask.
“Huh? Oh, that’s Jin’s actually. He left it here. Didn’t exactly have time to pack when he got whisked back to earth.”
“Ah.” No wonder he can’t get over him when he’s still surrounded by all his stuff and the memories attached to them.
Hobi catches you looking at him and raises a brow. “What? Would you rather have worn Jin’s robe? I gave you mine, that’s why I’m wearing his.” His words are accompanied by a slight roll of his eyes, so you just nod and say nothing.
“It's a bit plain for you,” you shrug after a few seconds of silence, elbowing Hobi softly and pulling a smile from him.
“I know,” he sighs. “It's so… beige.”
When you reach the door on the far left in the basement, Hobi opens it for you and waves for you to go in. You’re standing in what must be the washroom, rather big, with large, dark tiles on the floor and walls. There’s a bunch of sinks lined up and a continuous mirror that runs along the wall above them. Some toiletries are scattered around. There’s two doors on the other end of the room, both of them ajar. You can see showerheads on the wall behind the left door. That must be the room where it happens.
Averting your eyes, because there's immediately some very explicit scenes playing in your head, you place your bag on one of the counters next to a sink. The room is really clean and there’s fresh, rolled-up towels in a cabinet on the opposing wall, as well as a basket for dirty ones next to it.
“Here,” Hobi catches your attention and throws you something out of his bag. Unfolding it in your hand, you find a terry cloth headband - with cat ears.
“Didn’t see one when I got you your stuff,” he tells you as you slip it over your head and under your hair to pull it out of your face. “Looks cute on you. Keep it.”
You look in the mirror to check yourself out and alright, it does look pretty cute. It’s black, like Lucy’s fur, with some pink on the ear-bits. “Thank you, I love it.”
Hobi smiles, looking at you through the reflection of the mirror. “Okay, let’s cleanse first and then we can sit down and do some sheet masks if you want. I got some new snail mucin ones.”
Hobi taps around on his phone and is apparently connected to speakers that sound from the ceiling, starting a playlist of ambient music, similar to those in massage studios.
“You are a true spa day expert, huh?” you ask while emulsifying some cleansing gel on your cheeks.
“Of course. It’s one of my favorite things to do. Relaxing and gossiping.”
When you dry your face, ready for snail slime to rejuvenate your skin, there’s a sound coming from the room next to the one with the showers, barely audible over the relaxing music.
You meet Hobi’s eyes. “Did you hear that?”
Another sound. This time it sounds like a sob. And some deep, wailing breaths.
Hobi drops the cotton pad he just picked up and rushes towards the backroom without further explanation, so all you can do is follow behind, robes swinging from the fast movement. He pushes open the door fully and barges in, immediately making his way to a big square bathtub nestled in the corner. It’s occupied by Jimin, who’s sitting with his knees pulled to his chest, the water sloshing around him almost flowing over the edge of the tub, covering him up in fresh-smelling bubbles. Choked sobs are breaking from his chest as Hobi gets on his knees next to him, carefully pushing aside a shattered hand mirror on the floor that probably caused the first sound you heard.
“Oh, honey,” Hobi coos and cradles Jimin’s tear-streaked face in his hands. Make-up residue is running down his cheeks, leaving behind some dark smears.
You stay put by the door, unsure if you’re supposed to join them or if Jimin would rather have you leave.
Hobi’s head turns towards you and he says, “Can you get my cleanser and cotton pads please?”
Of course you do, turning on your heels to get the stuff and return, walking up to the tub with cautious steps. Jimin’s body looks even smaller in that huge bath, surrounded by bubbles that hide anything below his waist. He doesn’t seem to mind your presence, although he’s not meeting your eyes, rubbing smudged eyeliner from his cheek when he quietly says, “Hi Ari.”
His sobs are slowly dying down and going softer as Hobi strokes his wet back. “Let’s get your pretty face cleaned up, hm?” he tells Jimin, who just scoffs in response.
“Don’t lie to me, I know exactly what I look like,” Jimin mumbles, voice sounding bitter.
Your eyes widen in disbelief as you hand Hobi a drenched cotton pad. “What? What do you think you look like?”
Jimin finally looks up at you, wet red-rimmed eyes with eyeliner smudged around them and his mouth drawn into a frown.
“Fucking ugly and you all know it,” he spits, voice shaky from another sob rising up his throat. He glances at the broken mirror on the floor and rolls his eyes, apparently recalling looking at his reflection just a minute ago.
His words take you by surprise. Why would he ever think that about himself? Even now in his disheveled, raccoon-eyed state, he’s still more ethereal than anyone you’ve ever seen.
“Who told you that?” you ask and he raises a brow at you.
“None of us,” Hobi lifts his hands in defense. “Like, for fuck’s sake, I used to be so jealous about how pretty he is when we first met down here.”
“Jimin, you need some heavy duty glasses if you think anything about you is even close to ugly,” you shake your head, still unable to grasp the concept of him thinking he doesn’t look like an absolute angel.
He sighs when Hobi lifts his chin and starts to gently remove his make up. “They keep telling me. Joon even forced me to talk to a damn therapist about it, so I guess I’m working on it. Kind of… I just don't see it.”
Hobi brushes a stray strand of blonde behind Jimin’s ear to wipe the cleanser over his cheek.
“How about we all do our skincare here?” you suggest and move to pick up Hobi’s and your toiletry bags from the sinks.
You set them on the floor upon return, Jimin’s face now clean from any make up and his tears have finally stopped rolling.
“Let me get your hair out of your face,” you tell him and sit on the edge of the tub, equipped with some tiny hairbands you fished from between your serums.
You gather the hair from the top of Jimin’s head, separating it into sections and start braiding them against his scalp. Jimin sighs and leans into your touch as you twist the strands around.
“So,” Hobi speaks up from his spot on the floor, gathering some products for his routine. “You wanna tell her why you ended up down here, maybe?”
Jimin sighs once again, a little exasperated. “I guess. I’m already naked, why not strip down emotionally too, huh?”
“You don’t have to,” you assure him, working his hair between your fingers and tying off the ends at the back of his head.
Jimin shrugs and turns to you, reaching for your headband and flicks one of the little cat ears. “Cute.”
He stretches out his legs, unfolding for the first time since you came in here, and stares at his feet as he speaks.
“It’s a short story anyway. Bang PD totally tricked me.”
“How come?” you ask him, playing with the ends of the braids.
“Promised to make me beautiful. Eternal beauty and shit.”
“So, what did you look like before, then?” you carefully ask, pretty sure that Jimin must have had some serious self-esteem issues pre-hell.
He turns his face towards you, eyes narrowed in disbelief. “The exact same. That scammer didn't change a single thing. He lied to me.”
You are absolutely gobsmacked. Of course the devil wouldn’t have to change anything if he already looked like this. And he stopped him from aging, so the promise of eternal beauty wasn't even a lie.
“You were already crazy beautiful then. What did you expect him to do?”
Hobi scoffs from next to you, obviously they’ve been through this conversation before.
“Everyone says that. You wouldn’t get it, Ari,” Jimin says, accompanied by a roll of his eyes. “Even the nickname Hobi came up with proves that.”
“I don't even know what Ari means,” you tell them, looking between the two.
“It means pretty,” Jimin says, then smiles like he just agrees.
“God, Jimin,” Hobi gets up on his knees and pats Jimin’s braided head. “I wish you would see yourself through our eyes just once.”
He rips open the foil of one of the sheet masks and plasters it on Jimin’s face, making sure all the edges are sticking down well, pressing it into his skin with nimble fingers.
When you reach out to take the second mask from Hobi, he pushes your hand away.
“Let me,” he says. “Hard to put on without a mirror.”
The slimy sheet cools your skin immediately as he applies it to your face. Man, what would you do down here without this sweet demon?
After you return the favor, clipping Hobi’s hair away from his forehead and placing the mask on him, he picks up his phone to check himself out in his front camera.
“Good job,” he tells you, as if he was doubting your skill. Pfff.
“Oh!” he exclaims and his eyes light up. “Come here,” he says as he lifts himself up on the edge next to you. “Let’s take a selfie!”
Jimin props his elbows on the side of the tub and puts his face in his hands while you crouch down to fit into the frame. Some of the bubbles get on the sleeve of your robe as you tilt your body and Jimin leans against your thigh.
With a big smile, Hobi clicks a few pictures before deciding he got a good one.
“I’ll send it to Jin,” he mumbles as he types away on his phone while Jimin and you look at each other from the corners of your eyes. Well, you’re not going to comment on this again and apparently, neither will Jimin.
Instead, out of nowhere, Jimin pulls on your arm, catching you by surprise and making you fall backwards into the full tub. Water sloshes over the edges and lands in Hobi’s lap.
You shriek as you very gracelessly land in the warm water, halfway on top of Jimin, who laughs at your flabbergasted face as he moves out from under you.
Hobi is giggling next to the tub as you’re recovering from the surprise attack. You decide to just settle in the bathtub, enjoying the sound of Jimin’s laughter after all those tears, your legs still hanging over the edge out of the water.
“You sneaky little shit,” you chuckle and splash some bubbles his way.
Hobi’s phone dings and you see him perk up. Just a second later his shoulders drop, so you peak over his back to glance at his screen. Oh.
You wiggle yourself out of the tub, soaking wet and plop down on the ground next to him. Jimin also comes back up to the edge on Hobi’s other side.
“What’s going on?” he asks before he catches sight of Jin’s reply. “Shit, sorry Hobi.”
Jin sent back a picture of him and a woman, cheeks pressed together, both smiling brightly into the camera. Must be his girlfriend Hobi told you about.
Wow, this Jin guy is extraordinarily handsome, now it makes sense why Hobi is so hung up on him. His girlfriend is super pretty as well and they look like a happy couple. Unfortunately for your friend.
“Hobi,” you start, not trying to offend him. “I feel like you really need to get over him. Like, why not go to the club? There must be some hot demons around. You deserve someone who’s actually into you. And you know, into men.”
“Ugh,” Jimin sighs. “Why would he even send you that?”
“I might have told him he can, I don’t mind…” Hobi admits. “Just want him to be happy. Let me hold on for a little longer.”
Hobi swallows down his sadness and you continue your skincare routine. The masks come off, serums are applied and slapped into your faces before a final moisturizer is massaged in, concluding your spa day, that didn't turn out the way you expected at all.
You turn around, even though no one asked you to, when Jimin emerges from the bubble bath to be wrapped in a big towel by Hobi. You've seen Jimin naked twice but somehow this feels more intimate than when you walked in on him being fucked or having his ass eaten.
Jimin brings his arms around you from behind and whispers a quiet thanks into your ear before he lets himself be escorted away.
“I'll bring him to his room,” Hobi tells you as they walk out. “See you later, Ari.”
Once alone, you strip out of your wet robe, wringing it out over the emptying tub. Without anything else available to wear, you begrudgingly put the moist silk back on and it immediately clings to every curve of your body. Eugh. Should've dunked Jimin for dragging you into the water.
With your stuff tucked under your arm, you traipse back to the upper floor, adjusting the damp robe every few steps as it keeps riding up from sticking to you. You are happy the guys are warming up to you, even trusting you enough to speak so honestly about themselves. That's why you're smiling to yourself as you reach the corridor that houses all the bedrooms.
Yoongi’s there, walking towards his room as well and he notices you approaching. He turns around and his eyes immediately snap to Hobi’s damn satin robe that’s hiding next to nothing in its current state. Yoongi scans you up and down with an expression that almost makes you laugh. He blinks, like twenty times, then swallows down an apparent lump in his throat while his hand is gripping the doorhandle to his room. The only thing missing is his mouth dropping open and his eyes barging out of his head like in some stupid comic book. He’s probably too tired for facial gymnastics like that, he looks exhausted actually. Whatever he’s been doing all day must have totally wrung him out.
“Are you following me or something?” you ask, even though it was you entering the corridor after him.
“What?” he asks, fidgeting with the door handle. “No!”
“Relax, I’m just joking.”
“Oh.” He clears his throat. Again. And he can’t seem to take his eyes off your tits. Charming. “You’re… Uh. Why are you… wet?”
“I went down to the basement to have a spa day with Hobi,” you explain. “Jimin was there too and ended up pulling me into the bathtub.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah.”
There’s an uncomfortable moment of silence in which he tries his hardest to look into your eyes.
“It was funny though,” you go on, just to make it less awkward. “We all needed a little mood booster.”
“Did you now?”
“Yeah,” you say. Then you heave a long sigh. “Maybe we should talk? About the past couple of days? Like adults, you know. Who communicate.”
He takes the blow with grace, nodding along. So apparently he knows that he deserved the snide remark.
“Wanna come to my room to talk?” he offers and cocks his head towards his door that he has now opened.
Theoretically, you could change into something dry first. But you like to see him struggle to keep his eyes off your body. If that's what it takes for him to talk, so be it. He deserves a little torture after giving you the cold shoulder for two days.
He lets you move past him into the room first and as you pass him, a waft of cold cigarette smoke hits your nose.
“Didn't know you smoke,” you say, scrunching up your face at the smell.
“Oh, sorry,” he shrugs. “I'll change real quick.”
Yoongi closes the door behind himself and pulls his shirt over his head while you take a seat on his bed, watching him undress. The sight is threatening to melt your resolve. Damn it, now you’re staring, not the other way around, as you intended.
You're busy watching his back muscles contract as he's plucking a fresh shirt from his closet and don't realize he has turned his head towards you, catching you mid-thirst. The smug look on his face doesn't last long, because you cross your legs which makes the robe ride up your thigh dangerously high.
Staring directly at it, he walks over and sits down next to you. Silence again. You wait for him to speak, since you've already been forthcoming and made the first step.
“So…” Yoongi draws out the word, eyes trailing across his bed, where your vanity bag sits next to your hip. “What you got there?”
Really? Jesus Christ… “Skin care, since we did the spa day thing, like I said.”
“Ah,” he inspects your face a little closer, bringing the back of his hand towards your cheek and tenderly runs his knuckles across it. “Your skin does look nice.”
“Thanks,” you say, eyes downturned from all the blood rushing to your head. “Yours looks a little dry actually.”
You open up your bag and pull out the remaining stuff. “You want a spa day treatment too?”
“Okay,” he says and turns towards you.
At least that's better than stewing in this awkwardness. You take the headband Hobi gifted you and pull it over Yoongi’s head, making him grumble in discontent. “What’s that?”
“Headband, to get your hair out of the way,” you tell him while pulling it in place. You grab your phone from the vanity bag and snap a picture of him, with a cute but dumbfounded expression, dressed in terry cloth cat ears, then turn the screen for him to see. Too bad you're not in that group chat.
He exhales a laugh when checking it out, before you put some cleanser on a cotton pad.
“Well?” you go on, wiping it across his forehead. “Got nothing to say?”
He's a fool if he thinks you're letting him off that easily.
Yoongi closes his eyes and leans his head against the headboard as you finish cleansing his face, making sure you don’t use too much force while going over his scar.
“I should, shouldn’t I?” he sighs. “Should have done so yesterday morning probably.”
“Probably, yeah.”
“‘m sorry,” he then says. “I know I shouldn’t have left you in here in the morning and then I behaved like a ginormous asshole all day.”
“You did, yes,” you tell him, swiping the pad along his jawline a little harsher than before. “You should apologize to Joon too, actually.”
“I know. I got embarrassed. Of how you saw me. And when I felt better it kinda hit me. I was in here all pathetic and sweaty and miserable. Made a fool of myself by begging you to stay. It was just… super humiliating.”
“I didn’t think you were pathetic,” you say while pocketing the cotton pad and grabbing a different bottle. “A little sweaty maybe yes, but it’s hot down here, so who cares?”
Yoongi breathes out an appreciative laugh and lets you put some serum onto his cheeks and forehead with a dropper. “Well yes. I wasn’t really thinking rationally, you know?”
“I figured. Rationally enough to fuck Jimin though,” you comment and start slapping the product into his skin like Hobi showed you. Maybe with a bit more force than necessary.
“Did that upset you?” he asks as you keep slapping some sense into him, hopefully.
“I mean, you said we both could do what we want when we talked about it and that’s still fine for me. It was just a little harsh to see after I stayed with you and you decided to ignore me all day for no reason, you know?”
“Mhm,” he hums. “‘That why you fucked Tae then?”
That pulls a laugh from you. “I wanted to fuck you, initially, if you really want to know.”
“Even put on that pretty thong for me.”
“Yeah, well. Too bad you were occupied, I guess.”
He chuckles, shoulders bobbing. “Bet Tae didn’t even appreciate it.”
“Oh, I wouldn’t say that. Pulled it off me with his teeth.”
Yoongi sucks in his bottom lip and bites down hard. “I had it coming, I guess.”
“I guess so.”
“I’m sorry,” he then says, finally looking at you. “I fucked up and acted like a dumbass teenager. You didn’t deserve that after helping me push through.”
“And after making the infamous healing lasagna,” you add.
“Obviously, how could I forget that? It was great.”
“I know, but thank you.” You give his cheek one last slap for good measure and rummage for the moisturizer. “Well, talk next time instead of hiding. Okay?”
Yoongi nods. “Yeah, alright.”
To conclude the debrief, you dig for a big glob of cream with your pointer finger and put it directly onto the tip of Yoongi’s nose to which he scrunches up his face with a pout. He looks so cute, you could melt, so to prevent that you hurry to spread the lotion evenly across his face. While going over his forehead, his eye twitches when you pass the upper end of the scar there.
“Oh, sorry,” you whisper, now making sure to move more carefully. The scar looks healed, not fresh at all and you wonder why he never used his powers to get rid of it. “Does it still hurt?”
“Nah, not really,” he tells you. “It’s just sensitive sometimes.”
You run the pad of your thumb down from the uppermost end gently, touching the tender skin of his closed eye on your way and making it twitch again before tracing the remaining part of the indented area down his cheek.
“Can I ask?” you brave yourself with your hand still cupping his face. “Who did this to you?”
He huffs a laugh through his nose, leaning into your touch a little. “I did.”
“Oh,” you murmur, not sure what else to say while your thumb sways back and forth across the skin like you could make it disappear. “Why?”
“You’ve figured out by now that I’m pretty fucked up, right?” he says with a self-deprecating chuckle.
“Everyone here is. Me included.”
“Some more than others, I feel like,” he says before taking your hand from his cheek into his. He brings the tips of your fingers to his lips and kisses them once, making you suck in a breath. “I don’t know why I did it. I just know how I felt. Fucking miserable all the time.”
This is the second time he tells you that he doesn’t remember things from his past. First the guitar, now why he cut himself. “Why are there so many gaps in your memory?”
“That was my wish for the devil. Why I signed my contract,” he explains. “Wanted him to
erase a memory. I don’t know what it’s about obviously but apparently it drove me to slice up my own face, so…”
Shit, that must have been so deeply traumatising, you feel your eyes well up at the mere thought. “Jesus, Yoongi,” you whisper as you bring your hand to his cheek again. “I’m so sorry.”
“It’s alright,” he shrugs. “Can’t remember it now anyway. But it must have been something really bad if I’m still this messed up in the head. Probably better that I don’t remember, even if Joon disagrees.”
“You think your episodes are caused by whatever it was, trying to come back up?”
“Not really, no. I think my body still remembers even when my brain doesn’t. There’s always this deep pain that I can’t place or pin-point to anything. It’s just… there.”
“That’s horrible.”
“I’ll survive,” he reassures you, patting your hand on his face. “Don’t really have a choice.”
“You better,” you say with a stern voice.
It makes him laugh and he pulls off the cat headband, shaking his head, fingers running through his hair and combing them out of his face again. “God, you’re turning me into a fucking softie…”
“You say that like it’s a bad thing.”
Yoongi looks at you, eyes narrowing, like there’s a question forming behind his eyes. Then his gaze trails down to your shoulders, which are still covered in damp silk that’s making you go cold at this point and he notices the slight shiver.
“You’re cold,” he concludes, pulling you in by your hand.
“It’s fine,” you tell him but let him guide you into his lap anyway.
Settling there, you rest your hands on his shoulders while he holds you close by your waist. His body heat immediately seeps into you, making you sigh.
“Better?” he asks, a smirk dancing across his lips and your gaze locks onto them, even when you scoff and shove at his shoulder.
Yoongi pulls you closer, the arm around you tightening and your chest bumps against his, faces only an inch apart.
Before you close the last bit of distance, you say, “I know I said I don’t want it nice, before. But today, I do. Is that okay?”
He looks up at you with big eyes, studying your features closely and nods. His arm leaves your waist and he brings his hand to the back of your head, pulling your face towards his.
The kiss is slow and gentle, just like you asked, lips brushing delicately against yours once. He pulls back to look at you again, as if to check if it was soft enough, making you smile. You lean back in, locking your lips with his and breathe out another sigh when his tongue presses against yours. Your fingers tighten on his shoulders when he licks into your mouth with slow and deep strokes, his breathing quickening as well.
When you pull back for air, light-headed from his kisses, there’s a tiny smirk on his face before he asks, “You’re soft too under that tough shell, huh?”
Rolling your eyes at him, accompanied by a giggle, you shrug. “Maybe sometimes.” You reach out for his face, holding it between both your hands and place a kiss on the scarred cheek. His breath falters when your lips make contact with the red mark and his lids flutter shut for a moment before he looks at you again with a smile playing on his lips.
Yoongi lies back on the mattress, pulling you down with him and you move your legs to straddle him, still dressed in nothing but the damp robe. The only thing separating you is the fabric of his sweatpants. Leaning down, you bring your lips to his again while his hands rest on your hips.
It’s you who's taking the lead now, tongue sliding slowly against his with your fingers brushing through his hair. The faint smell of cigarettes lingers in the room and you can still taste the traces of them when your mouths glide against each other. Strangely enough, it's a comforting sensation, but also makes your head spin and need grow in your chest. When your hips grind against him like they have a mind of their own, you feel how hard he is already. Shit. The contact makes you shiver, bare pussy rubbing against his clothed erection one more time.
Yoongi groans into your mouth and you lift your head off of him, having him follow your face for an inch. He opens his eyes, looking up at you, then squints while reaching out, thumbs slipping beneath the lapels of your robe. “Let’s take that wet thing off before you freeze to death, huh?”
And they say chivalry is dead. He slides it off your shoulders so it hangs at your waist, where the belt is still firmly tied. You reach for the knot but Yoongi beats you to it, quickly untying it before throwing the thing aside. He pulls his shirt off too, staying upright with you still sitting in his lap, then traces the cool skin of your arms with the backs of his fingers, making you erupt in goosebumps. His eyes wander down your body, pupils blown and hands itching to touch more of you.
“Beautiful,” he mumbles to himself, suddenly lifting you and turning you over, so you’re on your back, head resting on a pillow with him above you. He reaches for a blanket at the foot of his bed and pulls it over himself so it’s covering you both. The immediate warmth spreads pleasantly across your skin and beckons you to get comfortable as you sink deeper into the cushions.
His mouth is on you again, kissing your lips, then down your jaw and neck while his hands run up your sides and push your breasts together with a light squeeze. Hot breath fans across your collarbone before he kisses his way down, his tongue darting out every now and then, leaving wet spots all across your chest and down towards the peaks of your tits. He hovers above your left nipple, circling it with his tongue. When he lowers his head and sucks it into his mouth, he looks up at you and keeps swirling the wet muscle over your nub. Your hand lands in his hair with your breath hitched and he rolls the other one between his thumb and pointer finger before moving his head to repeat the action, eyes not leaving yours.
“Shit Yoongi,” you whimper, fingers still tangled in dark strands.
He grins when he pulls away from your chest. “You like that?”
You only nod, mouth hanging ajar and he chuckles, then sucks on your tit again, apparently to make a point. His hand trails down your body, then between your thighs and he’s looking into your eyes again, lips parted when the pads of his fingers brush over your labia. His middle finger parts your folds and the two of you gasp at the same time, you from the contact and Yoongi clearly taken aback by how wet you are for him. Two fingers, drawn languidly, gather up your slick and spread it upwards to your clit, where they press down slightly and begin to draw loose circles.
Your eyes threaten to roll back into your head from the way you are touched but you force them to stay on him, not wanting to miss the way his face scrunches up with every sound that leaves you. Reaching out your own hand, you move to palm him over his sweats, moaning when you feel his hard length beneath the fabric. Yoongi has other plans though and grabs your wrist to pull you off of him. He pins your hand down next to your face and leans in, kissing you deeply while his other hand still plays with your pussy. Sharp breaths clash against his skin anytime you breathe out another whine through your nose when he brushes over you in that way.
You almost yelp when he slows down but decide to stay silent as he pulls his head back at the same time. Yoongi eyes you like a hawk when his hand moves further down and his middle finger pushes into you slowly. He watches your face contort, your eyebrows raised in pleasure as he eases into you without much force and starts moving back and forth in a gradual rhythm.
“Feels good?” he asks and you almost scoff because clearly, there’s no need to confirm.
“Yes,” you nod, helplessly squirming under him, hip twitching involuntarily when he curls his digit just right. “Please give me more.”
Yoongi chuckles, lowering his head to put some kisses on the side of your neck but makes sure to pull back and watch you closely when he slides a second finger inside. His jaw hangs slack with his lips agape and he groans quietly when squelching sounds fill the room, his hand unrelenting, fingers curling and his thumb finally pressing against your clit.
“Fuck,” you moan, eyes actually rolling back now. “Just like that, Yoongi, please.”
“Yeah?” He sounds proud now. “You getting close? You want to come on my fingers?”
“Uh huh,” you nod, head hitting the pillow hard after the fact. “Yeah, I wanna come.”
He brings his other hand downwards, replacing his thumb to draw quicker circles, his moves now more precise. Still pumping in and out, he twists his wrist and the motion sends tingles up your spine and down to your toes, making you cry out over the electric feeling.
“Shit, I’m so fucking close,” you tell him with laboured breath. “Making me feel so good.”
Yoongi grins, eyes still on you like nails drawn to a magnet, with his chest puffed. “Better than Tae?”
What? You must have misheard him but it doesn’t matter now as the high clashes against your shore, pulling you into the depths of an overwhelming orgasm that rattles and thrums through your every muscle. “God, yes. Fuck!”
Your eyes squeeze shut as the pleasure peaks, pulsing thickly from your core and making you see stars. Lungs burning, you heave heavy breaths and your nails dig into his arm, fingers almost cramping up from how hard you hold on. You release him when your upper body curls, legs locking his hand between them and your face lands in the crook of his neck, weakening exhales fanning across the skin of his back.
Falling back into the pillow when Yoongi slows to a stop, he leans over you and places a kiss to the tip of your nose, that almost makes you deflate and melt into a puddle. His fingers ease out of you, palm moving to cup your pussy, like he wants to feel how long you’ll throb for. Which might be for an eternity if he keeps looking at you like that.
He carefully pushes a sweaty strand of hair from your forehead, giving you another once over. “Are you good to keep going, or should we stop?”
“‘m good,” you pant, wiping the residual drops of sweat from your temple.
“You sure? It’s fine if you’re not.”
“Nooo,” you draw out the word like a whiny kid and frown. “What about you?”
Yoongi doesn’t stop you from pushing down his sweats and boxers, both bunching up by his knees. He slips out of them laughing and shakes his head. “Well, who could say no to you?”
He comes back closer on his knees, his neglected erection still evident, tip glistening in a deeper shade than usual from how badly it craves to be touched. That can't happen on your watch, not after how hard he made you come so you reach out and immediately wrap your fingers around him for a slow pump, making Yoongi’s eyes fall shut.
“Easy,” he breathes out with a grin as you twist your wrist on the next stroke, pulling him closer with your legs around his hips.
“Need you inside of me,” you counter and he grits out a curse when you angle his tip to your core.
His hips push forward, complying with your plea and making you loosen your grip around him, now only guiding him inside with the tips of your fingers. A groan rattles through the room when he feels you around him, Yoongi’s head dipping down to kiss you. His tongue slides against yours harsher now, more urgent and he sucks on your lower lip when he bottoms out.
You feel so full, pussy stretching around him when he pulls his head back and stares into your eyes as he starts moving. Moans are pushed out of you with every slow thrust which increase in force one by one and the movement makes his hair fall into his face. You reach out, attempting to brush the dark locks behind his ear but he bends down for another kiss, apparently not getting enough of that today. Lips slotting with yours, his hair is now pushed against your forehead, tickling you while his right hand reaches for your tit, squeezing it as his hips keep snapping against yours.
“You feel like heaven,” he mumbles against your mouth, picking up his speed.
For once, you are lost for words, having him whisper those sweet nothings to you while pounding into you so deliciously, so you decide to say nothing, letting your sighs speak instead. Yoongi watches you with an open mouth, his thumb tracing your lower lip before his hand is placed against your cheek. The tips of his fingers brush over your skin in delicate strokes, barely touching.
“I’m close,” he warns, slowing down on purpose as he leans back, his torso now upright. He grabs your ankle and moves your right leg to rest upon his shoulder, hands now at both sides of your hips, pushing your other leg sideways.
His thumb finds your clit again, stroking it in fast circles as he desperately tries to hold off his own orgasm. He’s concentrating too much on you, making you worry he’ll ruin his own high, so you push his hand away. “It’s fine, just let go.”
“Nah, want to make you come,” he insists, hand wandering back between your legs, but you’ve already set your mind to it and whisk it away, entwining your fingers with his.
“You already did,” you tell him and suck in a breath at the particular motion of his groin against yours. “Come on Yoongi, come for me.”
He stares at your entangled hands, then into your eyes, hips stuttering while he begrudgingly admits to himself that he’s fighting a losing battle. He picks up his speed with a frown, making you chuckle. Stubborn…
Tightening the hold on his hand, you pull him closer, your leg sliding off his shoulder. “Feels so good how you fuck me,” you whisper, only crumbling his composure further. “Want you to come inside of me.”
Yoongi’s head is beet red now, eyes scrunched together and hips having developed a will of their own as he’s fucking into you like his life depends on it. “You’re gonna make me fucking explode,” he presses out through gritted teeth.
Yeah, that’s the goal. You smile, pulling him in by the cheek for another kiss. This one’s messy now that he’s losing control, tongue pushing against yours hungrily, his breaths coming out harsher with every second that passes. He’s grinding into you deep, skin slapping against skin and the force knocks the air out of your lungs with each stroke.
He can’t hold back any longer, it’s evident by the stutter of his hips and he moans into your mouth when you feel him twitch inside of you. He grinds into you hard when he comes, voice breaking with his tongue inside your mouth and pushes in deeper with every spurt of cum he releases.
Yoongi exhales another broken moan when he pulls his head back, pushing into you as hard as your bodies allow with his chest heaving before he lays his head down into the crook of your neck, gasping into the pillow. When his breathing begins to even out you feel him laugh against you, his hair tickling your skin again with the slight tremble. It makes you chuckle too, shaking your head at yourself for being so blissed out while he slowly rolls off of you.
After a moment of gathering your senses, you sigh, readying yourself to get up. “I’ll go to the toilet really quick.”
Yoongi’s hand reaches for you blindly, his other arm currently covering his eyes as he recovers. “Stay for a minute, yeah?” he mumbles.
With a big exhale you comply, turning on to your stomach, cuddling into his side in the process. Yoongi props himself up on one elbow and lets his fingers run along the line of your spine. Once he reaches the curve of your ass, his movement suddenly halts and a disgruntled noise makes you turn your head towards him.
“Hm?” you ask, worn out and tired.
He clicks his tongue, nodding his head toward your ass while lightly squeezing your cheek, right where Tae’s handprint from yesterday is still visible. “You’re bruised.”
“Ah. I already forgot about that. It doesn't hurt anymore.”
“Still don't like it,” he mutters, placing his palm over the skin and swiftly healing it. Another souvenir lost then.
You breathe a laugh into the bend of your arm, rolling your eyes at him while moving your hip from side to side to make your ass jiggle in his face. “You’re not jealous, are you? That it wasn’t your hand.”
“Psh,” Yoongi shrugs, circling your aided cheek with his palm once more. “Not really the type for it. Just don’t like bruises, that’s all.”
“Alright.” There’s a question forming in your head after that tender fuck you just shared. He said it himself, everyone’s an adult here, so it shouldn’t be a problem to straight up ask, right? This house doesn’t need more drama and with everyone being horny most hours of the day, it’s better to address it before someone gets hurt. “Just so we’re on the same page. We’re still cool, right?”
“Yeah?” he says it like he doesn’t know what you mean.
“Casual, I mean,” you explain. “Because this was… different than usual.”
“Oh. Yeah, ‘f course.”
“Good,” you say while turning to your back, placing a peck on his temple when you pass him. “I’ll be right back.”
You traipse away to the bathroom, clenching your thighs which makes you waddle slightly.
When you return, Yoongi’s still chilling on the bed, hands behind his head, looking up at the ceiling with droopy eyelids as if lost in thought. He already looked tired when you met him in the hallway, he must be fully exhausted now. The blanket is draped halfway over his body, one naked leg sticking out the side, and he yawns when you walk over.
“Long day, huh?” you ask and sit on the edge of the mattress on his side. You let your finger trail over his exposed thigh while you wait for him to disclose information about what he’s been up to all day. To no avail, as he just hums in response.
“I don’t wanna be nosy,” you begin. “But I don’t think anyone really bought your Bang PD excuse this morning. So, where have you actually been?”
The right side of his lip curls into a smirk before he looks at you. “How’d you even know about the Bang excuse? Hobi told you, didn't he?”
You nod, biting the inside of your lip for inevitably telling on him.
“I was out. Had some stuff I needed to check off my list.”
“Wow, really feels like I was there with you,” you tease him for his lackluster storytime.
He rolls his eyes and chuckles, hands still placed behind his head. “I was planning to show you tomorrow. Sound good?”
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A/n: Hope you enjoyed and it could take your mind off things a bit.. Let us know what you think about all the revelations! Interaction in any form is highly appreciated, we'd be so happy to receive your feedback and if you're shy, feel free to send us an anonymous ask.
upcoming: nuevayol
pairing: ceo!yoongi x reader(f)
rating/genre: m (18+) ; angst , smut ; baile inolvidable au
summary: you finally reunited with the one you left behind. faced with the inevitable way you have to leave him once more, you will fight to make it until you can meet again. however, when a certain drop of news reveals just how worlds apart you are from him, you have to make an impossible, devastating choice and live with it. in the storming, rainy heart of new york.
note: umm yeah so we are in our feelings again bc of.. a wet tee. also this is technically your guys’ fault too so we’re all culprits in this together goodbye😀
note 2: this is a sequel oneshot to baile inolvidable! it can be read as a standalone, but it would make more sense if you read that one first :D
warnings: language, angst, dirty 30s young business tycoon yoongi, exes to lovers, baile!yoongi, reader’s got motion too🫦, yoongi in a wet tee, tracksuits and chains, he also does wear a henley, love is sacrifice, gifts from baile!yoongi are now a warning, business contracts, rain, long distance, overthinking, pining, yoongi wearing watches is a warning in itself, explicit scenes, yearning, reader is selfless to a fault, crying, gd they go at it even more than the OG oneshot, did i mention angst?, heartbreak, hurt/comfort, it ends well ok there’s just angst bc hello it’s me!!!
explicit warnings: dropping on drop day but oh dear god i’m blushing writing the spice and have to take multiple breaks so just be warned in advance🥴
mood: nuevayol - bad bunny ; motion - cortis, juicy j ; fashion k***a - asap rocky
est. drop date: august 2026 whenever i can get it done lol
est. word count: 10-15k!!
👠 comment to be on the taglist! | *yoongi growl* are youu readyy!??
Pairings: Demon!BTS x f!reader, Yoongi x reader (main), everyone x everyone
Summary: You accidentally summon a demon and manage to make him mess up his ritual to get back home. Now you're stuck with a morally grey squad of hell dwellers who take you in and promise to try and bring you back to where you belong. Getting to know them during your warm holiday down south makes it clear though, that you're not the only one in need of help.
Genre: Fluff, smut, reverse harem, comedy, crack, found family, trauma and angst
Fic Warnings: MDNI, explicit sexual content, blasphemy, lots of trauma. See Hell Yeah Masterlist for a full list of genres and warnings!
Chapter Warnings: The movie Twilight, more assassination talk, depression and caring, cuddling and soft moments, tons of vulnerability, jealousy :)
Smut warnings: accidental voyeurism once again, reader is desperate as hell, sub!reader, dirty talk and blasphemy, face fucking, gagging, rough sex, rough fingering (bordering on fisting), mirror play (he makes her watch the whole thing), riding, choking, spanking, doggy, facial, aftercare
It’s already been a whole week in hell and there’s definitely Pros and Cons to that. Pros are that you feel lighter than before. The whole dramatically heightened emotions situation seems to have simmered down to a noticeable but bearable level of intensity. The horn from hell is still there. Very much so. But it’s also less troublesome since there’s a willing helper around if it fucks with you too much and that certainty alone makes all the difference in ensuring that you won’t totally lose your mind anymore.
The weekend passes without much fuss and you just enjoy not being tormented every hour of the day. On Monday, the Cons make themselves known though, as your boss bombards you with calls, telling you that your time off is over now and asking when you’ll be back. She’s understandably not amused when you tell her you won’t be able to make it today, or this week either - since it doesn’t look like Joon will miraculously find a way to bring you back. She’s pissed. She yells. You’re trying to make her believe your sob story about your sick grandma and that your car broke down too. You hope she doesn’t remember your grandma’s been dead for years. It sounds like she does though and now she’s even more mad. God, you should have taken more time on thinking up a better excuse - all that time spent on Netflix could have been used for good. But like on earth you procrastinated. In your defense though, you were fighting your own horny demons. Literally and figuratively.
Boss approves another week off. Unpaid this time and with a warning that this is your last chance before they’ll have to talk to HR about consequences.
Tuesday and Wednesday pass by in no time as well, not bringing Joon any closer to your salvation. But you ask Yoongi to do a spell to make you understand Hangul and you can at least decipher the books in the library now. There’s a lot of ancient tomes that you’re not sure you understand even with the translation magic. Hopefully none of them unleash some freaky curses. You make sure to read silently, so as not to repeat your mishap of summoning another demon, or maybe something worse.
Yoongi’s in the library a lot too, like Joon said those days ago. When he’s not on a mission or has other things going on, he constantly sneaks off or enters the room when you’re already sitting on the sofa and read some explanations about demonic healthcare. He sticks his nose into some hefty encyclopedias, taking notes on the side. Must be something important.
On Thursday, when your second week in the Nether Regions is almost over, Hobi appears in the living room next to you, startling you with his sudden arrival. Funnily enough he never scares Lucy when he teleports and materialises in front of you. It’s like your cat anticipates them every time.
“Guess what I got?” Hobi beams, all excited while holding up two giant shopping bags.
It's not hard to figure out with the huge LV logos almost pressed to your face. “Louis?” you chuckle. “Again?”
“Well, yes! But not for me. Not only, I mean,” he explains while setting one bag down in your lap. “Look!”
You open the fancy satin strap that's holding it together and risk a peek inside. “You're not serious.”
“I’m so fucking serious.”
There’s two babypink sweaters inside. One in your size and a teeny tiny one, you think for a second that it must be for a baby. They’re made of fleece, all fluffy with a zipper on the chest and a knitted collar.
“I got myself one too,” Hobi says, pulling out a matching one from the other bag. “Quick, put it on.”
“Damn, okay,” you laugh as you pull it over your head. The material feels nice, you have to admit. Not nice enough to warrant the price that’s on the tag though. That number is insane, even though you still haven’t memorised the conversion rate from won. Too many zeros nonetheless. “You’re aware I came here without any money, right?”
“I know, that’s why I bought it for you as a gift,” he winks as he pulls his matching sweater on. “Oh my god, I love it. Now put the little one on Lucy, please!”
You do as he says, Lucy making no effort to flee or even acknowledge what’s happening as he gets dressed in a pink little Louis Vuitton sweater.
“I could cry!” Hobi yells while pulling out his phone. “Look at him! Let me take a picture. No wait, let’s do a selfie, the three of us.”
Picking up Lucy, you position yourself next to the designer brand loving demon, grinning at how happy he is.
“Okay, big smile everyone,” he instructs as he holds up his free hand to do a peace sign. He really has his selfie game down, making all sorts of pretty faces and finger hearts, then holds up his hand to yours to form a bigger heart.
“You’re cute,” you chuckle as he takes another million shots, pouting his lips, then smiling brightly, gently holding Lucy’s face up and changing the angle for the light to hit perfectly.
When he’s done and huffs out a satisfied breath, you turn to him. “I know you’re going to tell me to shut up, but this really wasn’t necessary. It’s so pricey.”
“You’re so right. Shut up please,” he grins. “Take it as a way to make up for my whining about Jin. Also it’s bank robbery money anyway. You could thank Jeongguk.”
“No way I will,” you laugh as you open your arms for a hug, then pull him close. “Thank you, Hobi. Lucy says thank you too.”
The cat lies on the couch like he’s paralyzed, not used to wearing anything but his fur. He’ll get used to it, right?
With Jimin’s enthusiastic help you finally manage to realize your threat of making Yoongi watch Twilight. It’s an important piece of pop culture even inhabitants of hell should know about after all. Since Jimin has been singing high praises about the epic vampire flick, all the others decided to join in too, so it quickly turned into a pile of demons squished together around you on the big couch in the living room, anticipating the grand masterpiece.
Tae brings a huge bowl of popcorn and puts it into your lap, making all six of them reach out their greedy hands to grab some.
You have Tae to your right while Yoongi is being pushed into your other side. Jeongguk is occupying the spot next to Tae and Jimin sits to Yoongi’s left, leaving the two of you surrounded by Maknaes (a word that Joon taught you not long ago). While Gguk is basically sitting in Joon’s lap - he said it’s due to lack of space, but no one believed him - Jimin is clinging to Hobi next to him.
The couch really isn’t small enough to warrant that level of closeness but you’re not going to question their habits, not after being down here for a while. At least it’s cozy, even with all their grabby fingers reaching over each other from out of the blankets that are draped over your laps. Yours is shared between Taehyung, Yoongi and yourself and to no one's surprise, Tae is nuzzling into your shoulder with sleepy eyes only 20 minutes into the film. Just like Lucy actually, who’s contently purring in Yoongi's lap.
Joon, never one to shut up apparently, has it out for the logistics of the story and makes constant remarks about how unrealistic everything seems.
“Why are they in high school when they’re hundreds of years old? That’s creepy and also doesn’t it make him a pedophile with Bella being 17?”
Jimin groans. “Christ, just enjoy the drama. Edward stopped aging mentally at 17 when he was turned into a vampire, so it’s all good.”
“How convenient…”
Jeongguk chimes up only when Jacob is on screen. “He’s so cool with his long hair…”
Yoongi hasn’t commented on the movie so far, trying to keep his stoic persona up, but you could make out the side of his mouth lifting every now and then from the corner of your eyes.
“You’ve always been on team Jacob,” Jimin laughs. “Remember when we watched it for the first time in a cinema back on earth and you wouldn’t stop asking ‘Where the hell have you been, loca’ for weeks?”
“Well, I definitely remember…,” Joon rolls his eyes. “Also what’s with the weird celibacy thing Edward has going on? This reeks of some church shit.”
“Hey, you just complained about her being a teenager,” Jeongguk interrupts Joon’s tangent about them not having sex. “They only fuck after getting married in like the last part.”
“I think the author’s actually Mormon," Hobi explains.
“So the Cullen siblings are going to hide under their bed and shake the mattress for them, or what?” Joon chuckles, highly amused by his own joke.
You’re laughing along with the banter, happy that everyone seems to enjoy themselves, when Taehyung awakes from his slumber and finds your hand with his, his fingers snaking between yours, before he settles again.
Feeling Yoongi’s head turn slightly, you lift your gaze to see him shoot a death glare from hell towards your other side. Now what has gotten his panties into a knot this time? It’s not like Jimin isn’t grabbing at him every few minutes.
With his hand still holding on to yours, Tae shifts down on the couch, ass pressed to Jeongguk and one leg thrown over Jeongguk’s, while his head is halfway in your lap now, nudging against the popcorn bowl.
On your left, you simultaneously have Yoongi’s thigh pushing against yours harder and you only just catch the leftover of a frown on his face before he turns it into a slight smile again.
He leans in a bit and quietly mutters, “He’s cute, huh?” Reaching out his hand, he pats Tae’s head, ruffling up his hair gently before he lays his palm on your blanket-covered thigh.
“Very,” you reply with a sigh and let yourself fall back further into the cushion, head resting on Yoongi’s shoulder now.
Yoongi’s hand remains on your leg for the remainder of the movie, fingers grazing ever so slightly once in a while.
When the credits roll, everyone moves slowly, stretching their limbs before getting up. Except for Tae and Jeongguk, who have both fallen asleep. Jeongguk is actually softly snoring against Joon’s chest, whose arm is draped over him. He looks so peaceful, you’d think he was an angel if you didn’t know better.
Yoongi removes his hand from your lap and reaches out for Tae again, lightly swatting his cheek to wake him up. Taehyung just smiles with his eyes closed, shaking his head and presses his face harder into your leg.
“Come on, big baby,” Yoongi chuckles before turning to you. “So now that I know the Cullens, I can confidently say we’re nothing like them by the way.”
You keep spending most of the following days hanging around in the library with Joon, often with Yoongi a bookcase or two over as well. His quiet mumbles are always audible in the silence of the high-ceilinged space. Until they are suddenly not. You find yourself missing the comforting sound of his muttering echoing off the old walls while you work your way through some demon literature. Somehow, you’re unable to concentrate now that Yoongi’s not present.
“Yoongi’s not here,” you state, having walked up to Joon’s desk.
“Yeah, I noticed,” Joon tells you with a small smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. Instead, you can see some worry swimming in them. Uh oh. His expression makes unease creep into your chest.
Trying to convince yourself that you’re being dramatic, you figure he’s probably just busy with something.
At dinner that evening, Yoongi is quiet, as if lost in thought and excuses himself as soon as he’s done with eating. No one comments on it but you can tell everyone notices and the looks on all of their faces further confirm your worries. You go to bed with a lump in your stomach that night.
When you walk into the dining room the next morning, you barely make out someone whispering ‘It’s getting bad again’ before they all turn their heads your way when you enter. It seems that they hoped Yoongi would show up instead of you, slight disappointment on all their features when they realize he’s not.
Maybe he’ll join a bit later, like he usually does? You keep telling that to yourself at least.
It’s quiet while you eat, the only noise in the room being sipping sounds from coffee cups and the scraping of chopsticks across dishes.
“Tell me something,” your voice breaks the silence and all eyes are on you again. “Anything. Just. Take my mind off things.”
“Well,” Jimin hums. “I could tell you about our last mission if you want?”
“Please do.” Whatever blood-stained story he’s going to tell, it surely is less cruel than where your imagination is taking you right now.
“So, me, Gguk and Tae were sent to this dingy club two days ago,” he begins. “To take out some pimp. I don’t even remember his name. Ggukie?”
Jeongguk shrugs. “Abusive piece of shit, lowlife waste of air, not worth remembering his name.”
Jimin’s eyebrows rise at the string of words and he chuckles. “Well, him. Anyway, we walk in there and the whole thing looks pretty empty, except for two bodyguards that stand guard in front of waste-of-air’s office. Tae and I knock out one each and make sure their memories are wiped.”
You struggle to imagine angelic Jimin knocking anyone out with his delicate little hands. “How are you even doing that? Have you been trained in martial arts or something?”
“Oh yeah,” he nods. “Our trainee days were rough. Three years in total I think. And we’re stronger than most humans anyway, so I like to use the element of surprise. They always underestimate me until my knuckles slam into their face.” He smiles brightly at you. “Where was I? Ah, yes. Jeongguk bursts through the office door and what do you think we find in there?”
“I’m not sure I want to know.”
“The bastard’s in there with his pants down,” Jeongguk tells you. “A line of coke on the table in front of him and jacking himself off. I think it was 10 am.”
Ew. You immediately imagine a greasy, old guy, probably stinking of sweat and cheap cigarettes, jerking off in the comfort of his gross office.
“It was so nice tearing him apart,” Jeongguk says fondly, eyes trailing off.
“You made a big old mess,” Taehyung comments.
“I know. Can’t wait to get his fucking bodyguards too one day. I’m sure they’ll be on our list sooner than later.”
Jimin reaches over the table to stroke Jeongguk's hand. “They’ll get what they deserve. We’ll make sure of it.”
Jimin’s tender gesture catches you a little off guard amongst the brutal story.
“How come you came back by yourself?” you ask Jimin, remembering him returning alone that night. You couldn’t sleep and were wandering around the estate once again.
“Well, you see,” he is already giggling. “Those two usually stay behind up there for a while. To go out.”
“I thought it was unbearable for you on earth?”
“Tell that to their dicks,” Hobi huffs.
“It’s just cold,” Tae shrugs. “Nothing I can’t handle for a good fuck.”
“Yeah, it only gets unbearable after a day or so,” Jeongguk says.
“And it’s not like you’re taking that long anyway, right?”
Jeongguk’s hand balls into a fist around his chopsticks, cheeks a shade of bright red, at Taehyung’s remark. That seems to have hit a sore spot.
“I meant because you’re so quick in killing all those fuckers,” Tae eases the pain with a wink.
“Anyway,” Hobi seems to decide it’s time to change the topic before Jeongguk has the chance to get really mad. “What movie are we going to watch next?”
The table erupts into a heated discussion about various options to choose from, ranging from horror to classical pieces, but when your eyes meet Joon’s, you can tell his mind is elsewhere, just like yours.
In the afternoon, you’re in your room and hear a guitar being strung close by. Must be Yoongi next door, according to where the sound is coming from. Maybe he feels better! He never said that he can play the guitar. Really good as well from what you can make out.
The music doesn’t stop for hours, pleasantly resonating through the walls and almost lulling you to sleep. You even recognize some songs. When you exit your room, on your way to the library, you notice Yoongi’s door is slightly ajar. You can see Jeongguk through the crack, sitting on Yoongi’s bed, crosslegged, listening to him playing. Better leave them to it for now. You walk off just as the chords to Something in the Way by Nirvana start sounding. That can’t be a good sign.
A little further down the hallway, you find Joon leaning against the doorframe of his room.
“He’s still going, huh?” he asks you with a somber expression. Seems like he’s been listening in too.
“Come on,” he steps out of the door and leads you away with his hand on your shoulder when you just look at him with concern written all over your face. “Let’s get a snack.”
Joon tries his hardest to distract you for a while before leaving you with Hobi to watch some dumb reality TV show that he can’t stand, until it’s time for dinner.
Your last shred of hope that Yoongi is fine dissipates when he doesn’t show up at the table. The sound of his guitar playing has stopped a while back as well, being replaced by silence, that snakes its way into dinner too. You are all slurping on some soup Jeongguk whipped up with an uncomfortable air of worry whirring around you.
Towards the end of your meal, when Jimin and Hobi start collecting the dishes, Taehyung finally speaks into the quiet of the room. “I’ll get my pillow and lie down with the boss, he’s been alone in there all evening.”
“Actually,” Joon stops him. “Maybe we should try something else.”
Tae cocks his head in interest.
“You can stay with me tonight,” Joon starts to explain his idea and then turns to face you. “Maybe you can go and look after him tonight? If that’s okay with you?”
You are not sure Yoongi would even want you there, but you trust Joon and won’t turn him down if there’s even a slight chance it might help.
“Um, sure,” you agree even though you still feel a bit awkward about the proposal.
Jungkook shoves a bowl of soup and a spoon into your hands. “Make sure he eats.”
Joon accompanies you to Yoongi’s room after you changed into some more comfortable clothing, thanking you over and over again for agreeing to stay with him. When you go to knock on Yoongi’s door, he stops you.
“Don’t bother,” he sadly smiles at you. “He won’t respond.”
Oh. Okay then. You push down the door handle with some hesitation, not sure what’s going to await you on the other side. Joon nods his head when you look back at him, urging you to go in. This is so fucking weird. You expected Joon to follow you in, maybe warn Yoongi or something, but he retreats as soon as you step foot in Yoongi’s room, pulling the door close behind him.
Your eyes find their way to Yoongi, lying on top of his blanket on his back fully still, staring up at the ceiling. His face is even paler than usual, dark shadows under his eyes, his hands just limp on the bed by his sides. Slowly, with careful steps, you walk up to the bed.
“Hi,” you address him and your voice comes out in a whisper. Yoongi doesn’t even move his head, it’s as if he’s paralysed. His fingers shift a little on the sheet though at least when you put the soup on his bedside table and crouch down to get on his level.
You try to figure out what to do, feeling totally useless. All you can come up with is to reach for his arm and you carefully let your hand brush over his skin.
“I hope it’s okay that I’m here,” you say. “I can get one of the others if you want.”
You are about to start rambling about how Joon sent you and that you brought food and that you’ll leave if he doesn’t want you in his room. But then his hand suddenly shoots up and grabs yours. When he finally turns his head to look at you, you can feel your heart shatter at the sheer amount of sadness you can see clouding his red-rimmed eyes. He doesn’t say anything, but the way he looks at you leaves no question as to whether you’ll stay, so you squeeze his hand to reassure him that you won’t go anywhere.
Deciding that you’ll try your hardest to make him feel even a tiny bit better, you get back up and move to sit on his mattress, squeezing on to the space left next to him. You could have moved to the empty side of his bed but somehow that feels like putting too much distance between you. You shimmy up to lean against the headboard.
“Jeongguk made soup,” you tell him as you reach for the bowl. “He will murder me if you don’t eat at least a little bit of it.”
Yoongi doesn’t move at all, his stare having returned to the blank wall above him.
“Please, just a few spoonfuls,” you plead with him. “I know you don’t want to…” You are unsure if what you’re about to say is stupid and assuming, but the words leave your mouth anyway. “Please, for me?”
To your absolute surprise, Yoongi starts shifting next to you. Agonizingly slow, like he has to fight himself, he comes up into a sitting position despite the obvious war waging inside him, until his head thumps against the headboard. With wide eyes you look at him before collecting yourself and picking up some soup and basically shoving it in his face.
“Open up,” you instruct and he actually complies. A few spoons in, he lets his head fall back again, closing his eyes.
“That’s fucking humiliating,” he croaks out, quietly and as if his voice has been out of use for a while. You cannot help but scoff at him. Even at his lowest, he can’t get over his stupid pride.
“It’s not like you haven’t caught me mid-meltdown before, so shush. At least you didn’t smash a mirror or something. Whoever does shit like that is really embarrassing themselves. And all that over being horny too.”
The tiniest of smiles tugs at the corner of his mouth and then he lets you feed him a bit more before sliding down again, resuming his staring-into-the-void. At least you got some food into him. You return the leftovers to the nightstand, contemplating what to do next. For a little while, you just awkwardly sit next to Yoongi, wondering if you should just continue yapping but it’s a bit weird when there’s no response. Maybe that’s going to overwhelm him. For the sake of getting more comfortable, because currently the frame of the bed is digging into your right ass cheek, you do finally move over to Yoongi’s other side. It might be less odd if you’re lying down too? So you get into a horizontal position as well, on your side, and watch Yoongi’s chest rise and fall. His face has returned to a pained expression. Whatever’s tormenting him must go real deep, as his eyes start to gloss over.
“Can I touch you?”
You don’t get a verbal response, but his hand reaches for you and you take that as enough of an invitation to move closer until you’re flush against his side. When you’re settled, your fingers curled around his, you look up at his face again. He’s avoiding your gaze but that doesn’t hide the singular tear rolling down his cheek and dripping onto his pillow. You instinctively go to wipe the wetness off his skin and at the contact his mouth goes into a pout, as if he’s holding back more tears.
“It’s alright,” you coo, pulling his face closer to yours and trying to keep your own voice from breaking. “You can cry.”
At the first tremble of his shoulders that accompanies a silent sob, you’re basically on top of him, hugging him as hard as you can. Yoongi’s body relaxes in your hold, a few moments later he stops shaking and turns so that you’re both on your sides facing each other. His eyes are closed though, as if he’s ashamed to look at you.
Your hand moves up to his face, fingertips lightly touching his lids, making them twitch at the contact. Fingers glide across the wet skin and wipe away his tears. The scar on the right side of his face is a deeper shade of red now and you run your thumb over the sunken tissue tenderly. Yoongi sighs when you lean in and place a kiss to where the scar begins on his forehead, then lower, where it spreads across his cheek. He lets you caress him, his breathing evening out under your soft touch.
Lying there with him in silence, you can’t help but look around his room and inspect everything that’s in here. The furniture is sleeker than that in the living room. Less grand and lighter in color. There’s a large wardrobe in the corner, a desk standing by the other and a TV on a simple dresser, similar to your room. Bigger and smaller plants are placed here and there and there are pictures on the walls - some abstract art pieces, as well as photos of him and the guys.
You smell something familiar, now that you’re not fully concentrating on Yoongi. Huh? Turning your head, you see the small flame flickering on his desk. Fresh cotton burns steadily, spreading its comforting scent all over the room. You’d recognize the container holding the candle anywhere. It reminds you of home and makes you even more emotional than you already were, so you lean in and wrap your arms tighter around Yoongi, squeezing him into another hug.
Just then, the door creaks open a little and your eyes connect with Joon’s who’s quietly checking in and nodding at you with a small, appreciative smile. Hobi’s head also peeks in for a second, before both of them retreat and leave you to it, closing the door behind them without making a noise so as to not disturb the apparent peace. Lucy must have slipped through the crack in the door when the two put their heads in. He chirps before jumping up the bed, then purrs loudly as he rubs his head against Yoongi’s shoulder.
When you pull back from the embrace Yoongi opens his eyes. He looks at you for a beat, not smiling, but maybe like a tiny bit of weight has been lifted off his chest.
“Heard you playing guitar earlier,” you quietly say.
He nods.
“You're good. I didn't know.”
“Yeah.” He clears his throat. “Been playing ever since I was little I think.”
“You think?”
“I don't… really remember. I don't know who taught me but I know I loved it.”
“How come you don't remember?” you ask then but he just shrugs. He’s tired, you can tell and he nuzzles his face into the crook of your neck so you decide not to pry further, stroking his back until you both fall asleep.
The room is dark when your eyes slowly blink open and you have no idea what time it is. The blinds are pulled shut, but it’s not like there would be any daylight coming in anyway. Fresh cotton has burned out too at this point, only leaving behind a faint smell of clean laundry. The other scent that’s coming up as you take a deep breath is one you’ve come to thoroughly enjoy. Dark strands of hair are tickling your nose as you’re nuzzling your face into Yoongi’s neck, who’s still asleep, his back pressed to your chest. His hair has fallen into his eyes, so you lift your hand from his waist to brush some curls behind his ear with gentle fingers. You feel some residual wetness on his cheek, making your heart hurt for him.
Yoongi stirs against your touch and your first subconscious reaction is to pull your hand away. Maybe he doesn’t want to be coddled all that much. Maybe he needs a bit of space. It’s not like you’re a couple or anything after all. When you turn to let yourself fall to the side and on your back though, his hand reaches out and finds yours in the darkness. He pulls you closer. Wordlessly. Then he sighs. Seems like he’s used to non-stop cuddling, obviously, with how the guys are behaving with each other. Maybe he hasn’t even realized it’s you, still half asleep and all. When you stretch your arm around his chest further, you feel Lucy’s fur, all soft and warm. He’s purring steadily, still half asleep and cuddled against Yoongi’s front.
Reaching underneath your pillow with your unoccupied hand, you pull out your phone to check the time. Huh, seems like you slept through the whole night for once. It’s already close to 9 am. As you lock your screen again, the door slowly swings open and Jeongguk’s face pops into the room.
The sudden brightness coming from the hallway illuminates Yoongi and you like a fucking stage light, blinding you momentarily. Great, of course it’s him finding you spooning their beloved boss, hair messy and face bare, probably scrunched up with pillow marks. He doesn’t acknowledge it though. Not yet at least. He’s going to have a field day with this later, you are sure.
Jeongguk carries a tray full of bowls and cups as he’s stepping inside the room, making his way to Yoongi’s bedside table. Him serving you breakfast in bed was not something you anticipated. There’s even a smile on his face as he takes in Yoongi, who’s probably still sleeping in your arms and cradling Lucy in his. Who knew Gguk could be so cute when he’s not acting like the actual spawn of Satan?
You automatically smile back at him, all drowsy and dazed. His smile falters the second he looks back at you, immediately rolling his eyes with a scoff. God, what a bitch. His unrelenting attitude makes you chuckle anyway. He picks up the almost empty bowl of soup from yesterday, eyes widening, then turns on his heel and it looks like he’s about to slam the door shut behind him, but he recovers some sense at the last second and closes it without making a sound.
A couple more minutes pass as you lay there with Yoongi, before you reach over and turn on the bedside lamp. He groans as if taking offense.
“It's past 9,” you quietly tell him. “And I’m not having breakfast in the dark.”
“‘m not hungry,” Yoongi mumbles, turning to face away from the food Jeongguk placed next to him while Lucy stretches languidly next to him.
“That’s okay. Just share with me then. Few bites.”
At first you think he’s ignoring you, but then he reluctantly sits up, rubbing the heels of his palms against his eyes.
You grab a bowl of steaming rice that has some vegetables and meat on top and take the first spoonful. “It’s good,” you comment between bites. The next time you pick up rice, you lift the spoon to Yoongi’s face with your other hand trying to catch any spills. You look at him with raised eyebrows and he finally leans closer with his mouth open.
“So god damn stubborn,” he chews, shaking his head a little.
“Yeah you are,” you nudge him with your knee before taking another bite yourself.
You manage to force-feed about half the bowl to Yoongi in silence. Good enough for now probably, since it doesn’t look like he’s enjoying the food at all. Lucy begs for a piece of meat, shoving his face into the bowl that’s in your hands and Yoongi hums, then picks up a hearty chunk and feeds it to him.
“I need a shower,” you announce while getting up and setting the bowl aside. “I’ll go to my room real quick and come back, if you want me to?”
The absolute haunting pout Yoongi throws at you in response almost knocks you off your feet.
“Don’t leave m-” He stops mid-sentence, disguising his Freudian slip with a cough. “Don’t leave.”
“But I’m smelly and I need to brush my teeth,” you argue. “And you should too. No offense. I can get one of the others to stay with you while I’m gone. Lucy will stay too.”
Yoongi doesn’t answer but pulls you close again by your hand, obviously unwilling to let you go.
“Fine, how about I use your shower? Won’t even close the door.”
He sighs, but finally loosens his grip on your hand.
You walk into his en-suite, checking out the stuff in his cabinets. There’s Yoongi’s toothbrush, leaning inside a cup and you find a stack of new ones in a drawer below the sink. Ripping one open, you put toothpaste on it and do the same to Yoongi’s, then walk over to him, shoving the brush and the empty cup in his hands, in case he still can't muster the strength to get up and rinse.
He looks at you with slight disdain and you just shrug in return.
“Wha?” you ask, mouth occupied with the toothbrush, before you pull it out. “Come on, I’ll give you a kiss. But only after you brushed.”
Maybe a little flirting will make him feel better. He rolls his eyes but begins to brush his teeth, leaning against the headboard of his bed and you return to the bathroom giggling. Men are so easy to manipulate.
After rinsing, you quickly shed off your clothes and take hell’s quickest shower ever, maybe even trying to scrub off the sadness with how hot you’ve turned the water on. Only when you step out and grab a towel do you realize that you obviously don't have any clean clothes in Yoongi’s room. So you dry yourself off and wrap the towel around your body, then walk over to Yoongi.
“I’m just gonna get a fresh set of clothing. I’ll be right back.”
“Ugh,” he groans dramatically, the cup and toothbrush sitting on his bedside table now. “You don't need clothes.”
Oh, so he might feel a bit better today than he did yesterday already. Good to know. “Yoongi, my room is literally next door, it’s not even gonna be a minute.”
“Fine…”
As promised, you hurry over to your room and put on whatever loungewear you can find, making sure to return as quickly as possible. When you enter Yoongi’s room again, he’s lying on his side, back towards the door, so you pick up his toothbrush and bring it to the bathroom, where you also hang up your towel to dry.
Once back by the bed, you touch Yoongi’s back as you sit at the edge of the mattress. His shirt feels slightly damp.
“Hey,” you speak softly, but he doesn’t react. From his posture alone you can tell he’s pretty out of it again, all slumped and unresponsive.
“You need to get out of this sweaty t-shirt,” you tell him as you force him to roll on his back by his shoulder.
He drapes his arm over his eyes and doesn’t make any effort to move. Leaving him to it for a moment, you get up and pull open the closet doors, digging through the contents for a shirt. With the clean garment in hand you turn around and find Yoongi already sitting on the side of the mattress, looking like a sad bag of bones.
“Arms up,” you instruct and pull his shirt over his head when he complies. Your eyes fall to the scar on his shoulder and you place your hand over it for a second before helping him into the fresh clothing.
You climb back into bed to Yoongi’s left and stretch out on your back with your eyes closed. The mattress dips down and Yoongi’s pressed into your side again. He breathes out a sigh when you run your fingers through his tousled hair.
“Promised me something,” he mumbles against your shoulder.
“I did?”
“Mmh,” he nods, but only barely. “Kiss.”
“Oh,” you say, placing both of your hands on his face and planting a peck on one cheek. “You’re right.” You smooch his other cheek too before you let your fingers wander from his face to his neck and you finally lock your lips with his for a soft, quick kiss.
Your lips have only just parted from Yoongi’s when the door opens and a yawning Taehyung trudges in, still in his pajamas. You move your hands away from Yoongi to prop yourself up on your elbows to see what Tae’s doing. Probably just checking in, you assume. But as soon as he reaches the bed, he throws himself halfway on top of Yoongi, sprawling out his arm and leg over him and pulls you closer as well, wedging Yoongi in between the both of you. Lucy watches the scene from the corner of the mattress with little interest, paying no mind to some demons cuddling while he strives for his eleventh hour of beauty sleep.
“You feeling better?” Tae sleepily mutters into Yoongi’s hair. “Missed you. Both of you,” he hums and squeezes your arm. Smiling, you look at Yoongi, who’s still facing you, the corners of his mouth also tugging upwards a little at Tae’s intrusion.
“Do you need anything?” you ask Taehyung, who seems to have gotten comfortable nestled against Yoongi’s back.
“Nap,” he mumbles. “And cuddle.”
How could anyone deny him his wishes? You shake your head in disbelief at how different he is from when you first met him and then decide to go along with his plan and let yourself be cuddled to sleep with Taehyung’s foot rubbing your leg and his fingers gripping your arm, hoping Yoongi won’t be smothered to death.
A while later, you’ve embarrassingly been dreaming about being squished between Yoongi and Tae, you get woken up by someone entering the room before the thought takes root. Blinking your eyes open, you recognize Joon. He sighs.
“Tae, I told you to get the dishes,” Namjoon complains. “Like half an hour ago…”
He’s patting Tae’s cheek to wake him up but he just whines in response.
“But I’m so tired,” he pouts, not willing to move a single limb.
“Ugh, okay,” Joon turns his back towards the bed and looks over his shoulder. “Hop on, we can nap on the couch.”
Reluctantly, Taehyung peels himself off Yoongi and climbs on Joon’s back, letting himself be carried away. On his way out, Joon grabs the leftover dishes himself and barely audibly whispers to the head buried in his shoulder. “Come on, Yoongi’s in good hands, leave them to it.”
“Tae is so cute,” you giggle, making Yoongi raise a tired eyebrow.
“Don’t get the wrong idea about him.”
Okay, whatever that means?
“I’m sure you’ll find out at some point.”
“Are you okay?” you ask him, running your fingers through his hair, not getting into the topic of Tae’s supposed split personality.
“Mmh,” he nods his head a little. “Better than yesterday.” He pauses and then finally looks up into your eyes. “Your lasagna might help, actually.”
Oh! Your eyes light up at Yoongi willingly considering food so you immediately scramble to get your phone and text Hobi to let him know you’re making lasagna for dinner and to please get the ingredients ready.
You get to work in the afternoon, preparing the healing lasagna once again, this time without an assistant, although Jeongguk can’t seem to help but peek inside the kitchen every now and again, judging your skills from afar. You promised yourself to not allow him another piece of your lasagna because he trash-talked it last time, but if he shuts his mouth for a little while you might change your mind on that.
“Need me to grate some cheese?” he asks while you’re busy stacking.
Now who is this and what did he do to Jeongguk?
“Um, sure,” you say, trying not to come off as astounded as you are. Got to make the most of it when he’s not acting like a total dickhead for once. “Thank you.”
So he does and unfortunately you have to admit that he even grates cheese perfectly. In whatever way that might be possible. It’s just the ideal amount. You would have done a bit more but that would have made it too greasy.
He flicks a singular piece of shredded cheese at you. Apparently he reached his threshold for niceties for the day.
Once the lasagna has finished baking, you serve it to the group gathered at the table, Jimin helping you carry plates while you handle the sizzling hot dish.
“Thanks, noona,” Jeongguk mocks, but despite his complaints last time he digs in with vigor.
You just roll your eyes, not even granting him a response, and pick up the two portions of lasagna you put aside.
“Dig in,” you nod to the others as you walk out, making your way back to Yoongi.
“Ready for the chef’s special?” you announce yourself as you enter his room.
To your delight, Yoongi is already sitting up against his headboard. The TV is on, some basketball match running its course quietly in the background. Maybe you won’t even need to feed him this time, so you hand him his bowl and utensils before sitting next to him with your own food.
“Thank you,” he tells you and lets the fingers of his free hand brush against your thigh for a moment before actually starting to eat.
You’re almost too distracted by watching him take bites from the corner of your eye to have the lasagna yourself. He’s not chomping down on it, but judging by the appreciative hums, he is enjoying himself.
You eat side by side in silence, the only voices sounding on low volume being the basketball commentators judging the players. It’s more comfortable this time, not the heartbreaking, paralyzed stillness from before and you’re relieved to have Yoongi gaining some semblance of himself again.
Once your stomachs are filled, you lie back down and a while later you fall asleep with your chest pressed to Yoongi’s back and your arm around his waist again.
When you wake up in the morning, reaching your hand out to find Yoongi without success, you realize that you’re alone in his bed. Even Lucy is gone. That’s good, right? Yoongi must have gotten up then.
Still, you’re somehow already missing his warmth against your body. You stretch out your arms and legs, rolling on your stomach, and groan into the pillow. The time on your phone tells you that you should probably head down to the dining room, so you leave for your own room to freshen up before going downstairs and joining the others for breakfast.
You can make out the usual chatter from the hallway already, happy that things seem to have returned to normal now.
“Good morning,” Joon smiles at you as you sit down across from him, the worry that had clouded his eyes the past days now gone.
The others greet you as well, handing you various items of breakfast foods while engaging you in conversation.
One person isn’t really taking part in the chat though, his eyes anywhere but on you. When your hands reach for the soy sauce at the same time, he pulls his back immediately, as if you weren’t basically melted together for the past 48 fucking hours.
What the hell. You can’t lie, his behaviour throughout the breakfast kind of hurts after he practically begged you to stay by his side.
Yoongi also seems to have some sort of gripe with Joon, as he’s reacting slightly snappy anytime he replies to him. Joon just keeps rolling his eyes though, obviously unimpressed by his weird attitude.
When Joon is putting the plates into the dishwasher after the meal, you join him in the kitchen. You lean against the counter next to him, not really knowing what you even want to ask. It seems like you don’t need to, because Joon turns to you, wiping his hands on a dish towel and starts talking unprompted.
“Don’t let Yoongi make you feel bad,” he tells you. “I figure he must be embarrassed as fuck if he’s acting like this. He’s pissed at me too I think, but he’ll get over it.”
“Why would he be mad at you of all people?”
“Well, it’s kinda my fault that you got to see him like this,” he explains. “But to be fair, he’s rarely ever been back on his feet this fast. Just give him a day or so to get a grip.”
Joon spends the afternoon teaching you how to play chess to distract you from seething, because at this point, you are actually mad about the way Yoongi is treating you.
He pulled the dusty board out of some cabinet, blowing on it to get rid of the grey layer.
“The others never want to play,” he says.
And you get a good idea on why they don’t soon, as Joon is basically murdering you on that chess board. He’s not going easy on you, outsmarting your every move. Which probably isn’t too hard, since you barely remember the rules anyway. Honestly, it’s boring as fuck, but you’d never tell him. Joon’s so happy to have found a victim, you can’t burst his bubble now.
The game might actually be making the time pass by even slower. Thankfully, Hobi pops into the living room to save you from your misery as Joon is once again clearing the board of all your figurines.
“Oh Joon,” Hobi sighs, sitting down on the floor next to you. “Why are you torturing her?”
“No, it’s fine,” you wave him off. “It’s fun.”
Your words don’t come out too convincing, maybe due to the grimace that accompanies them. Either way, Joon decides it’s time to release you from your shackles of black and white checkers.
“Sorry, I got carried away. I’ll let you pick a game next time, promise.”
You’re praying they stock more than just hourlong strategy games. Maybe you’ll just suggest spin the bottle. Truth or Dare even. What about 7 minutes in heaven … or hell? Damn, the horn from hell might be creeping up on you again.
After being freed from the torment, you make your way back to your room. To cool off, or maybe work yourself up even more, as you find out some hours later. It’s like you haven’t learned anything since you arrived here. Being alone in your room for too long has already made you lose your mind before. And you feel the simmering rage and arousal mix inside your veins, bubbling up to a dangerous cocktail that makes your heartbeat pang against your temple.
So Yoongi feels better (thanks to you) and immediately decides he wants nothing to do with you anymore? What an asshole. It makes you want to choke him again. Maybe ask him to choke you as well, who knows. A good session of giving him a piece of your mind, maybe slapping him even, and then getting fucked senseless would surely fix all of this. You even make an effort to switch out your cotton panties for a lace thong since he likes them so much. Even if he doesn't deserve it.
Determined and pissed as hell you throw open your door, take a step outside and immediately bump into a body. Oh for fuck’s sake. Of course it’s Jeongguk. You’re thrown back by the impact as he whirls around, apparently just coming out of Yoongi’s room and he reaches out to steady you, as if on instinct. As his hands hold you by the shoulders, there’s a moment of silence. Just a beat.
You blink at him, all dolled up, his hair done with some wide straight legged jeans on and a black mesh shirt, showing off his chest and pecks. He’s wearing an oversized blazer on top, making the outfit a tiny bit more classy, as well as a cluster of silver chains around his neck. Where the hell is he going in a fit like that? Vogue? He smells nice too unfortunately, surrounded by a musky cloud of perfume that beckons you in.
His hands are still on your shoulders when your eyes meet and you’re both pulled out of your paralysis, so he withdraws as quickly as you take a step back.
“Sorry,” you mutter, shaking your head and trying to remember what you came out of your room for. “What are you up to, looking like that?”
“Not really any of your business,” he snaps back but chuckles when you roll your eyes at him. “I’m going out. Clubbing.”
“Alone?”
He frowns now, squinting at you in annoyance. “Yes.” He shakes his head for emphasis. “I’m gonna find someone to fuck, since apparently I’m not getting invited around here anymore.”
Oh. Whatever that means. It’s not quite imaginable anyone would turn him down, especially when he looks so delicious. Damn, the horn from hell even makes you lust after the resident brat now. But he looks really hot, ugh.
“Who’s excluding you?” you ask.
“No one,” he shrugs and cracks his neck as he rolls his head from left to right. “Not intentional at least. Also, still none of your business.”
“Ugh, fine. Have fun then, good luck,” you push past him without even giving him a second glance. “Is Yoongi in his room?”
“Oh, he sure is,” Jeongguk chortles a laugh before he’s off, teleporting himself to some club where he’ll surely get lucky. You’ll never get used to them just whooshing away.
That weird encounter took some edge off your anger, but you’re still going to chew Yoongi out for treating you like shit, there’s no way around it as your blood still simmers from either rage or horniness. Or both.
You burst into Yoongi’s room without warning, the door ricocheting off the wall by how hard you threw it open. You’re stopped cold in your tracks though when two pairs of eyes snap to look at you from the bed. Oh shit!
It takes your brain a second to grasp the unexpected action you just walked in on. Yoongi’s on his back, hands gripping Jimin’s thighs, who’s currently bouncing on his cock, back arched, bracing himself on Yoongi’s legs. Jimin doesn’t stop rolling his hips when he turns to look at you, smiling, his hair all disheveled, looking like a fucking angel. Yoongi has the audacity to grin at you as well between grunts and you’re suddenly not sure if you want to strangle him or join them.
Yet again, you’ve barged in on people fucking, while being haunted by your own endlevel boss horniness. This has to be some kind of cruel joke. And seeing it after taking care of Yoongi for two days? It stings, even if you wouldn’t admit that.
“Look who it is, Yoongi,” Jimin pants, excitement bleeding into his blissed-out voice. “Oh, hah, can she join us?”
You don’t get to hear the answer as you pull back the door behind yourself and let it slam shut as you step back into the corridor. No you will not join them and do Yoongi another favor that he will not appreciate. But the horn from hell is back and it’s here in full force, the anger propelling it to another level. You have to fuck someone. Anyone. And it’s got to happen now!
Stomping down the hallway you rip open the next door you can find, looking for a willing victim to satiate your hellish hunger. It happens to be Hobi’s room, where he’s lounging on the bed talking to Joon. Perfect. One of them surely can help you out. Maybe you’ll even get a two-in-one deal.
Their eyes snap to you when the door flies open, looking at you slightly confused as you stand there, with a heaving chest. All sense of embarrassment has left you in this current state. Before they can even say anything, you announce your needs into the room with what borders on a banshee scream.
“I need someone to help me out and fuck me. Now. Please!”
Joon’s mouth falls open and then closes again, obviously at a loss for words. Hobi looks a little worried and unfolds his legs before he walks up to you.
“Girl, you came to the wrong room I fear,” he pats the top of your hand. “Don’t know if you noticed but I’m gay. And I’d do it for you but I just know it’s not gonna work…”
He looks at you all apologetic, making you feel fucking stupid.
“I could like, finger you if you want?” Hobi offers, sensing your desperation, but that isn’t gonna cut it for you at all.
Your eyes fall to Joon like a hunter zooming in on its prey, as he’s still in a deep state of shock, wheels practically turning inside his head.
“I um,” Joon stutters, then yanks up his hand and points to the golden band around his ring finger. “I’m married!”
Huh?! You saw him fuck Hobi in the library, what does he mean he’s married? He should’ve just said that he’s gay too if he doesn’t want you…
“Ugh, fine,” you rush out of there, banging the door closed and immediately spot your next victim.
Tae is walking towards his room, meeting your eyes and he smiles when he spots you. But only for a second, until he notices the way you’re charging at him. “What’s wrong?”
You halt right in front of him, your chest bumping against his from miscalculating the distance and your breath already hitches. “Need your help. Will you please fuck me?”
“Oh.” His eyebrows shoot up at your request, but the shocked expression soon turns into a sly smile. “Hell yeah.”
Tae immediately pulls you against his chest again and grabs the back of your neck to engage you in an aggressive kiss. There’s no slow start or gentle hands, and it’s exactly what you need. Didn’t expect Taehyung to be the perfect candidate for it but you’re not about to question it. Instead, you fumble for the door handle behind him, pushing it down and shoving him inside.
With the door closed behind your back, Taehyung momentarily breaks the kiss.
“What’s gotten into you?” he chuckles, his hand planted against the wood next to your head.
“Me? What’s gotten into you?” you throw the question back, thinking about how he came looking for snuggles just a day ago.
He presses his hips against yours, his ever-ready erection dragging harshly against your groin and grabs your chin, holding your face up with a tight grip. “I’m always like this when it comes to sex. Hope you like it rough.” His fingers dig into the flesh of your ass hard, as if to give more weight to his words.
“I mean, yeah, I guess?” you reply with wide eyes. “How rough are we talking? Will you beat me up? Do I have to beat you up?”
Tae laughs, the grip on your chin and ass cheek still unwavering. “As rough as you’ll allow.”
This suddenly feels dangerous, but you’re also very intrigued by Tae’s ambiguity. He wouldn’t actually harm you, right?
“I’ll try to go easy on you,” he mumbles as he licks up your jaw. “Just tell me if I go too far and I’ll stop.”
Throwing all worries aside, you grind your hips into him and lift your leg to pull him in even further. His cock twitches at your initiative as he pushes his tongue into your mouth with fervor. With one hand, he grips the waistband of your pants and you drop your leg so he can rip them down. He reaches between your legs and rubs his palm against your lace-covered pussy just once, making you sigh. The relieving touch is only short-lived as he retrieves his hand to pull your top over your head and throws it aside.
Tae moves away from you and on instinct, your body follows his, but he pushes you back against the door.
“Off,” he points at your bra. “And stay where you are.”
Shaking from anticipation you undo the clasp on your back and let the fabric drop to the floor. You reach for your panties as well, pushing your thumbs underneath the tiny waistband on each side but Tae clicks his tongue and shakes his head. “This stays on.”
“Oh,” you breathe. “Okay.”
He smirks now, narrowing his eyes at you from the few feet of distance between you. “So obedient. Stay there.”
He walks over to his bed and fetches a pillow, then brings it back with him to where you stand, still by the door. He drops the cushion in front of your feet, his gaze wandering up your body and reaches out his hand to squeeze your breast, then looks you in the eyes. “Now kneel.”
It’s as if his commanding demeanor shuts off your brain and you just drop to the ground, happy to oblige. With your hands on your thighs, you wait for his next order, looking up at him like a dumb bitch.
“Go ahead,” he nods his head at you. “My dick isn’t gonna get itself out.”
Hurried and fucking feral for his cock already, you grip his pants and boxers and yank them down to his ankles in one go, making his heavy erection bounce out and almost hit you in the face. The thing is massive and you gulp.
Before you can reach out for him, Tae wraps his own hand around it, angling his face downwards. He purses his lips and lets a thick dollop of spit fall onto his cock, spreading it along his shaft as he strokes himself.
You watch him closely, like you’ve been hypnotized but are pulled back into the moment when his other hand closes around your chin again. “Tongue out.”
The command makes you swallow down the saliva that’s been collecting in your mouth in anticipation, immediately followed by obeying his order, opening your mouth and laying your tongue out flat for him.
“You’re such a good girl, aren’t you?” he purrs before he taps the tip of his cock against your tongue a few times. The contact makes you whimper and you have to hold back on your instincts of taking him into your mouth immediately. You’re not going to mess this up when he just praised you for being good, so you hold still as he uses your tongue. Drool starts dripping from its tip before Tae cradles your cheek and finally pushes himself into your mouth.
“You ready to choke?” he asks, only just breaching your lips with his cock. You nod eagerly.
“Slap my leg if I’m too rough,” is the last thing you hear before he rams his dick into you as far as it can go before hitting your throat. You immediately gag around him and he groans with his hands holding the back of your head, watching you struggle to take him. He pulls back slowly and you use the moment to take a deep breath through your nose. He keeps going, shoving his length in hard and your eyes are watering as you try to get used to the intrusion, gagging and choking. Sensing that you might need a break, the next time he rolls his hips, he lets his tip hit the inside of your cheek instead, making it bulge out obscenely. With a flat hand, he slaps the convex side of your face, just hard enough to startle you. When you moan around his cock in reaction to the smack, he raises one eyebrow at you.
“You like that, huh?” he scoffs and caresses your cheek with his thumb before slapping you harder, leaving your skin tingling and your pussy throbbing.
You don’t have time to recover from the blow before he snaps his hips and causes you to gag again. Tae moans every time your throat contracts around him as you fight your body to take him down. Tears are streaking your face as he pants above you, showing no mercy. When he fully pulls out of you, you cough and almost topple over. You hold onto his thighs for balance and look up at him while he takes off his shirt and steps out of his pants with a grin that makes your blood run cold.
Before you can admire his abs, you are yanked up from your kneeling position, and Tae drags you towards his bed where he pushes you onto the mattress. There’s no time to settle as he immediately crowds into you, leaning over your body and it’s clear that the hunter and prey roles got totally reversed compared to some minutes ago.
“You did so well,” he whispers into your ear while his hand runs down your side, until his fingers land on the waistband of your thong. He lets the elastic snap against your skin a few times while he leans in to kiss you. His teeth tug on your bottom lip, tongue swirling against yours with breathtaking dominance and his other hand is tangled in your hair to hold you in place.
He starts kissing down your jaw and neck slowly, marking the skin above your tits with his teeth, sucking the skin harshly anytime his mouth is on you as he descends. His tongue darts out along your stomach and he licks a long stripe down its center, making you giggle. His eyes snap up to yours at the sound and you suddenly hold your breath, anxious that you pissed him off.
He grins back at you though, easing your worries before closing his mouth around the elastic of your thong. He pulls it off with his teeth, revealing your body fully to him and kneels on the mattress now, giving you a moment to look at him, while he does the same to you.
Tae is slender in general but definitely built from working out. There’s honey skin over taught muscle, veins protruding along his arms and flat abs that actually throw little shadows when the light hits them from the right angle. Nice. He pulls you out of your trance when he cocks his head to the side.
“Hands and knees, princess,” he says with his brows raised in expectation.
Without hesitation, you get on all fours, facing towards the end of the bed, eager to find out what he’s going to do to you next. He’s unpredictable to you which only heightens all your senses - except your thinking skill, maybe. That one’s been down the drain since you barged in on Jimin and Yoongi.
There’s a conveniently placed mirror on the opposing wall and your eyes meet in the reflection. Tae is positioned directly behind you, smirking like a maniac when he brings his hand to his lips. He spits onto the tips of his fingers, dragging the saliva from his mouth with a quick and smooth motion before smacking the slicked up digits against your pussy. Your head falls forward at the feeling and a moan breaks from your lips when he pushes two fingers into you without warning. The stretch burns in the most satisfying way as he pumps them into you deep and fast.
“Such a tight little pussy,” he growls. “Gotta get you ready for my cock or I'll split you in half.”
The force with which he’s fucking his fingers into you makes you jostle back and forth and pushes the air out of you in sounds of pleasure. It’s bordering on being painful, but you still crave more. His other hand lands on your ass, making you yelp from the surprising sting.
“You do like it rough, huh?” he chuckles. “So fucking wet for me.”
Another blow strikes your cheek before he adds a third finger, and your skin burns so pleasantly - oh, that handprint will absolutely be visible tomorrow.
“God, fuck,” you moan, shaking your head while he keeps on fingering you from behind.
“Don’t thank god,” he spits as he rolls his wrist. “He’s not the one making you scream. It’s me.”
Well, he’s right. You call out his name and it borders on a cry when you do because he starts curling his fingers at the same time. Your wailing doesn’t stop now that he brings his other hand around to your front and presses his fingers directly onto your clit, where he draws rough circles.
“You’re gonna come for me before I fuck you,” he says it like a promise, or, more likely, a threat.
It’s not an issue for you either way, as you’re already close to falling apart. “Yeah, please don’t stop.”
“Wouldn’t dare,” he chuckles at your plea while repeatedly snapping his middle finger against your clit, spreading you with his index and ring finger. His hand at the back is still plowing in and out of you mercilessly and all the sensations make your legs shake.
Your belly tightens, muscles flexing in anticipation when you feel the high approaching and you move to grip the sheets beneath you. “Tae, I’m coming,” you press out, repeating the phrase over and over again until the coil snaps and your arms give out. The orgasm washes over you like a tidal wave and you breathe deeply into the fabric of the mattress, muffling your cries, with your face planted against it.
You’re suddenly pulled up by the roots of your hair and he leans over you, still pumping his fingers as he brings your face close to his. “Nuh uh. I wanna hear you.”
Your brows knit when another moan flies from your lips at the curling of his digits and you just hear him huffing out a smug breath.
“Too much,” you whine when it begins to ache from sheer overstimulation and he finally slows down and eases out of you.
He’s not done with you though, as is evident by the way he pulls you into his lap after sitting down with outstretched legs, back turned to the edge of the mattress. You don’t even have time to settle before he’s latching onto your neck, his teeth scraping over your skin. He’s sucking on your throat like a fucking vampire having his first meal in days. Your lids fall shut while you’re still catching your breath with your legs curled around his hips and the second his fingers pinch your nipples, your eyes roll back into your head. He tugs on them, taking his time, and when he lets go, your tits jiggle back into place before his lips find their way to your chest as well, placing wet kisses all around your upper body.
“Taste so good,” he hums between bites and drags of his lips. You lay your arms upon his shoulders and feel his dick twitch against your pussy, from where it’s tucked in between your bodies, smearing drops of precum under your belly button anytime its pressed into your skin.
When you finally open your eyes again, you’re stopped by the view of his broad back in the mirror. Oh. You can see how his muscles flex with every subtle move he makes, his spine bending gently, showing off its ridges beneath his skin.
He chuckles when he looks at you after detaching from your chest. “Are you watching yourself?”
“What?” your eyes snap to his, suddenly embarrassed about him catching you staring. “No, I… I was looking at your back.”
Tae hums, then lifts his shoulders and moves them backwards while his hands find their way to his hips. You laugh, absentmindedly though, since you’re distracted by the view of him flexing his back muscles for you.
You trace the lines of his lats unable to tear your eyes away and sigh, “You’re so buff.”
Jesus, what’s happening to you and when did cuddly baby demon Tae turn you into a totally awestruck bimbo?
He seems to like it though, still chuckling at you gushing over him before his hands grip both sides of your waist. Apparently he has to show off that his muscles are not only for show, as he lifts you off him with ease while sliding further up the bed and under you into a reclined position and he looks up at you while easing you down into his lap again.
“Look at yourself,” he says, cocking his head towards the mirror. “Want you to watch yourself while you ride me.”
Somewhat reluctantly you lift your gaze up to the mirror - you’ve never seen yourself getting fucked before and honestly, you’d much rather enjoy Tae’s visuals, but you’re trying to be a good girl here after all. You see your mouth fall open as he directs his cock between your wet folds, then presses himself into you only an inch and you struggle to keep your eyes open. When your lids threaten to shut, his hand rushes up to your face where he squishes your cheeks between his fingers.
“Thought I told you to look at yourself,” he scolds and lightly slaps his fingers against your skin before retrieving his hand.
“Sorry,” you whine, eyes now fixated on the mirror.
“See that?” he asks then, angling his hips. “You can't miss the best part. When I push my cock into your tight little pussy.”
You obediently watch your face contort as you’re being impaled. Maybe Tae was right earlier and he will actually split you in half. Certainly feels that way as he’s shoving himself inside of you and your fingers dig into your thighs to soldier through the burn. “Fuck, Tae,” you whimper, not daring to close your eyes.
“Aw, poor thing,” he coos, smirking up at you and stilling his hips. “Is my cock too big for you?”
His condescending words only spur you on and with your bottom lip tucked between your teeth you sink down on his shaft further until you're in his lap again, pulling a surprised but proud groan from him.
“Fuck, that's our good girl,” he manages before grabbing at your tits.
The sound of the word our threatens to make your head spin even more than his dick dragging along your pulsating walls. Did he say that on purpose? Deciding not to dwell on it, because at this moment in time you do like the idea of it, you roll your hips once, feeling him so deep inside of you that you are worried for the last bit of your sanity.
Any time your eyes start to wander from the mirror as you ride him, Tae corrects you with a firm hand. You’re dying to look at him as he struggles to keep himself from fucking up into you and fails. His left hand is placed on your hip, while his right kneads your breast and toys with your nipple.
Fine, so you're going to watch if he insists. Your hair is already disheveled, tits bouncing anytime your bodies meet and with every swivel of your hip, you see Tae’s hard length moving in and out of you, glistening with your slick. Your mouth has fallen open a while ago, faint moans and whimpers sounding from your lips every time he bottoms out so harshly.
The fact that you’re about to go cross-eyed from the intensity has one upside - you get a glance of Tae’s abs in the mirror, flexing as he pistons into you.
“Please,” you sob out. “Please let me look at you.”
His hands close around both sides of your throat and with another groan he angles your head down with the tips of his fingers. “Fine.”
The second you look down at him, taking in his strained abs that are now on full display for you, he tightens his hold, choking you, only gently at first. “Ride me properly then.”
At his command, you start throwing your hips in circles with vigor, slamming into his lap, the tip of his cock hitting your cervix hard each time you do.
Your screams get cut off by his fingers pressing down harder around your throat and he meets your eyes before asking, “Okay?”
You nod to which his gaze darkens, lips pulled into another vile smirk while you do your best to keep on grinding your hips. “So pretty for us,” he mumbles in between and it seems like he’s lost in thought, complimenting you under his breath, his expression going soft for a split second.
Desperate to find anything to hold on to, to anchor yourself, your hand lands on Tae’s face. You feel the wetness from his lips under your fingertips but you’re no longer in full possession of your senses so your palm just splays over the lower part of his face, muffling his moans.
Tae sucks your index and middle finger into his mouth, swirling his tongue between and then around the digits. You can feel the vibration of his groans on your spit-slick skin and can't help from pressing them down onto his tongue.
It seems like he’s had enough of you smothering him with your hand as he grips your wrist and pulls it away from his face.
“Off,” he orders with one last slap to your tits. “Hands and knees.”
You gasp as you lift off his cock and it drags along your walls one last time on its way out. You scramble off Tae’s lap on your knees, legs all shaky, so you let yourself fall back onto the mattress. When you’re not fast enough to turn from your back to your front, Tae grips your thigh and twists your body, dragging you across the bed, then immediately pulls you up by your hips.
You’re jostled forward when a flat palm lands sharply on your ass. Before you can even process the sting of the slap, the tip of Tae’s cock already presses into you again from behind. “Gonna fuck your brains out,” he mutters. “You ready?”
“Uh huh,” is all you can muster because, of course you are. Not sure if there's even much brain left to be quite honest.
He pushes in harshly, almost in one go, dragging another cry from you. His balls slap against you with each thrust, your ass cheeks rebounding as they ricochet off his hips from the force.
When your arms threaten to give in from being jostled around so hard and you start to drop down, you are suddenly yanked back up by fingers tangled in your hair. The pull on your scalp makes you yelp in surprise. With your head forcefully angled back, the last thing you see before your eyes roll back into your head as Tae slams into you is the ceiling.
“Don't go weak on me now,” he grunts as he loosens the grip slightly, letting your head go horizontal again. “And watch.”
He’s already looking back at you through the mirror, fucking into you with increased vigor and your mouth hangs fully open now, unable to control your body from reacting to the view accompanied by his force.
With one hand on your hip, he’s hauling you back into his thrusts, the other wanders from your hair to your face. His fingers hook into the corner of your mouth, access made easy from your lips being wide agape, and he pulls your face into a grotesque grimace. Saliva is slowly starting to drip from your mouth since you are not able to close it, distorted moans erupting with each breath you take around the soaked fingers forcing your jaw apart.
You see him grinning in the reflection, fully satisfied with the picture he painted and when he leans in further, he sneers, “Now touch yourself. I wanna feel you come on my cock.”
Breaths heaving, you nod, eager to comply although your thoughts are so clouded by the stimulation, you’re struggling to form a proper sentence. “Wanna come for you,” you babble, somewhat incoherently. “So bad. Want your cum, Tae.”
“Shit,” he replies with a strained voice. Seems like your words only motivated him further, as he’s fucking into you so hard now, that the slapping sounds of your bodies meeting are echoing off the walls. “Gonna give it to you, princess.”
“Want your cum,” is the only thing you’re able to repeat over and over again, as your attention wavers.
Your fingers now rubbing over your clit in frantic circles, it doesn’t even take another minute until you are thrown into the abyss of another orgasm. Your body writhes as the shockwaves thrum through your system, muscles spasming from head to toe and your pussy clenching desperately around his cock. Tae’s brows are knit, a deep line forming between them as he looks down to where he’s nestled inside of you, where your body squirms and sucks him in deeper.
“God damn,” he groans through gritted teeth, drawing out the words as he pushes in even further. “Wanna come on your pretty face.”
He pulls out of you in one languid drag, gripping his cock tightly at its base. His other hand pushes you on your back by your shoulder. Swinging one leg over your chest, he’s caging your torso in between his knees. His free hand tilts your chin down to keep your mouth open while the other strokes his length at a frenzied pace, wrist wrenching at the tip.
You push out your tongue for him, showing him how much you want it and the sight makes him groan and finally lose it. He twists his hand faster and a drop of sweat drips from his nose, landing on your chest at the same time as the first spurt of cum shoots across your tongue.
“Fuck,” he stutters as the next load misses your mouth entirely and paints your cheek and lips. “Such a perfect canvas for my cum.”
He keeps on jerking himself, shooting rope after hot rope at you and you try to catch every drop, swallowing in between and quickly laying your tongue out for him again.
Tae moans with each gush and once he has milked himself dry lets out a deep breath, dipping his tip into your mouth and the residual cum. You close your lips around him and lightly suck him in, lazily swirling your tongue until he hisses and pulls back out.
He just lets himself fall off of you and plops down on his back, his shoulder against yours, chest heaving, trying to recover. Meanwhile you feel like you've gone fully cross-eyed, staring at the ceiling that's somewhat blurred and spinning.
“Are you okay?” His voice catches your attention and pulls you out of your orgasm-induced comatose state.
You nod, cum-stained lips pulled into a smile but otherwise not moving a muscle. “Yeah. I’m great.”
Tae laughs while his face nears yours. He kisses your temple quickly, then says, “I’m gonna run you a bath, okay? A bath always makes everyone feel better after I fuck them half to death.”
“Okay,” you chuckle, still paralysed and blissed out.
The mattress dips with his departure and you hear some drawers being opened and shut, as well as the sound of water running. A few minutes later he returns and goes to wipe your face with a soft towel. “Sorry for the facial,” he mumbles. “I got carried away.”
“‘ts fine,” you reply. “I liked it.”
“Noted,” he nods while his arms hook underneath the bend of your knees as well as below your shoulders. He picks you up, surprisingly without much effort - must be that demon strength - and carries you to his bath room.
The tub is halfway full and there’s clouds of tiny bubbles swimming on top. It’s warm in the room and smells fresh like citrus fruits. You can see the remnants of a bath bomb float around in the greenish water, suspiciously resembling a minion. The little eye still drifts around on the surface, making you laugh.
Tae eases you into the tub, holding you up by the arm. The warmth enveloping your body feels wonderful, it really is the cherry on top after being thrown and dragged around the bed by him. You wet your face with your hands, washing off the last remnants of him, then sink down a bit. Tae reaches for a washcloth and begins rubbing it down your neck.
“Feels good?” he asks and you nod, your eyes already heavy.
He cleans your shoulders and back, then your arms and when he reaches your chest, the pads of his fingers press against the skin there. “Oof,” he sighs. “Was too harsh again. Sorry. Let me get rid of that.”
You look down at yourself and immediately see what he’s talking about. Your skin is covered in small bruises and bite marks. The hickeys don’t hurt but you do feel a bit of a sting when he touches them. Tae lays a gentle palm over your skin and seconds later, the evidence of his mouth on you is gone.
Too bad, you kind of liked the little souvenirs. “Why can you even do that?”
“What? Healing?”
“Yeah,” you nod, running your hands through the water. “If your job is killing and erasing memories, what do you need healing for? Not that I don’t appreciate it.”
“Well, for ourselves, usually.” He sees the face you pull in reaction and smirks. “Not what you think. Demons… fight amongst themselves sometimes. And of course… we can hurt each other. Pretty badly.”
“Oh.” That’s news to you. “I thought you were all immortal.”
“I mean pretty much, but… not totally. There’s always limits, I guess.”
Makes sense. You yawn, nodding at his answer and struggle to keep your eyes open.
“Will you sleep here with me tonight?” Tae asks before you drift off. “I guess the others have all called it a night by now and you know… my thing.”
“Course, yeah,” you agree, voice thick with fatigue, since the way back to your room seems insurmountable right now anyway. And a cuddle sounds nice too.
“Alright,” you hear a smile in his voice even with your eyes closed. “Just relax for a bit while I take a shower. And please don’t drown.”
From your position in the tub you get a good view of Tae washing his body under the spray of hot water. With heavy lids you watch him lather his golden skin in soap and when he starts spreading the suds over his cock in slow strokes you wonder if maybe you would be able to go for a second round. Another yawn is bursting your delusional bubble though, reminding you that you’d probably just faint from exhaustion.
Once he’s done, he helps you out of the tub with a towel wrapped around his hips and lays a big fluffy one over your shoulders before draining the water. Tae walks you back to the bed where you let yourself fall down. He plucks the moist towel from you and helps you into one of his t-shirts instead, gently guiding you into a sitting position with an arm behind your back. As soon as your arms and head have slipped through the designated holes, Tae climbs into bed as well, discarding his own towel on the floor and immediately cuddling up to you naked.
You’re on your back when Tae rolls over and throws a leg and an arm over you, his head finding its way onto your shoulder. You tilt yours to the side so that your temples are touching and sigh, utterly exhausted but, to your surprise, not as satisfied as you thought you’d be. Huh.
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A/n: Welllllllll :) What do we think? Interaction in any form is highly appreciated, we'd be so happy to receive your feedback and if you're shy, feel free to send us an anonymous ask.
hey so do we want a quick yoongi fic about This Look asking for a friend pls say no pls don’t unleash feral kithtaehyung but if we must we must pls god say no
Summary: Your life was perfect. You had the perfect fiance, the perfect house and the perfect ring on your finger. The only thing that wasn't perfect …. were the memories you lost years ago and the fact your parents won't talk about it.
Pairing: Yoongi x F. Reader
Genre: Romance, Angst, Hurt-Comfort, Smut
Warnings: Memory Loss, Swearing, Blood Mention, Unprotected Sex, Mention Of Car Accident, Mention Of Drunk Driver. Will add as I go…
A/N: Posting Update: Okay, I've been good at staying ahead on writing chapters in this story… until now. I have nothing pre-written. I have some loose ideas for the next two chapters, but I'm trying to focus on Replay right now because the chapter is almost done and it's the final chapter. So, I'm going to take a week off of posting to get myself caught up and finish things.
I will see you in two weeks! 💜
The bass doesn’t just vibrate through the soles of your sneakers. It beats in perfect sync with your heart, rising up from the grassy lawn. From this far back, the massive stage is just a shimmering, neon-bright glow against the dark summer sky, and the members of the band are tiny silhouettes darting through flashes of strobe light.
But it doesn't matter.
The lawn is a chaotic, beautiful sea of thousands of people. However, right here, in your own little pocket of the crowd, you and Yura are living your absolute best lives.
"Turn! Turn!" Yura shrieks over the roaring crowd, her laugh loud and breathless.
Your fingers are locked tightly in hers, the grip sweaty and unshakeable as you spin each other around in wild, dizzying circles. The warm summer night air rushes over your bare shoulders. You’re wearing matching outfits. Simple black tank tops and red-and-white checkered pleated skirts and every time you spin, the fabric flares out around your thighs.
“Spin faster!” Tae explains as he films the two of you getting dizzy from behind his phone.
“Don't go faster,” Joonie calls from the blanket. “Someone is going to get hurt.”
Your fingers slip from hers. The spinning world almost knocks you off your feet. Hobi who was dancing nearby grabs you by your waist at the moment and steadies you.
"If you two keep that up, you're going to paint this grass with whatever you had for lunch," Jin scolds. He's standing near the edge of your group's blanket, arms crossed over his chest. "Stop spinning and get something in your stomachs! I didn't spend twenty minutes in the food truck line for you to starve."
"Okay, okay, we're stopping!" Yura gasps, waving a hand in surrender as she stumbles toward the blanket, immediately takes a bite of the hamburger in her fiancés hand.
“Babe!” Jungkook exclaims.
Without a second thought, you throw yourself right onto Yoongi’s lap. He lets out a soft, surprised 'oof' as your sudden weight lands on him, his hands instinctively coming up to catch your waist. Even in the dim light of the concert, you can see a helpless smile spreading across his face.
"Rough landing," Yoongi mumbles, his voice low against your back as he adjusts his grip, pulling you a little closer so you don't slip off. "You're completely out of breath. Did you actually listen to Jin for once?"
"Only because my head is spinning," you laugh, leaning back against his chest and looking up at him.
He reaches up with one hand, gently brushing a stray lock of hair away from your sweaty forehead, his fingers lingering against your skin for a sweet, quiet second despite the chaos of the concert roaring around you.
"Here," he says, nodding toward the cup of lemonade sitting by his knee. "Drink some of this before you pass out on me. I am not carrying you back to the car."
"You absolutely would," you tease.
The taste of the cold, sweet lemonade is tart and refreshing, as you swallow before pressing a quick kiss to Yoongi's lips. He catches on instantly, his hand at your waist tightening just a fraction as he kisses you back. It’s soft. It's a quiet contrast to the booming bass vibrating through the ground beneath you. When you pull back, Yoongi’s eyes are warm, a lazy, satisfied smirk playing on his lips.
"Eat," Jimin demands, his eyes crinkling as he beams down at you. He doesn't just offer the pretzel. He practically uses it to block your entire view of Yoongi, holding the warm, cheese-dripping dough inches from your nose. "You're burning like a million calories spinning around out there. If you don't eat this, I'm going to feed it to Jin, and he's already had his share."
"Hey! I heard that!" Jin’s voice carries perfectly over a sudden dip in the song's bridge, his hand paused mid-air as he points a fry accusatorially at Jimin. "I require sustenance after surviving the trenches of the food truck lines!"
You laugh, leaning forward to take a massive bite of the pretzel directly from Jimin's hand. The salty, buttery dough and warm cheese sauce are absolute heaven after running yourself ragged on the grass.
"Good, right?" Jimin asks proudly, dropping the remaining half into your hand with a satisfied nod before plopping down on the corner of the blanket next to Yura. He immediately starts badgering her to steal some of Jin's fries, sparking a playful tug-of-war over the cardboard container.
Yoongi’s hand rests comfortably on your hip. The contrast of his cool skin against your heated, post-dance warmth is incredibly amazing. Above you, the sky is dark with twinkling stars, but the air is thick with the sweet, nostalgic scent of funnel cake, crushed grass, and summer sweat.
"Better?" Yoongi murmurs, his chin resting lightly on your shoulder.
"Much better," you hum, shifting slightly to get more comfortable in his lap. You hold up the rest of the cheesy pretzel. "Want some?"
Yoongi eyes the cheese suspiciously, then looks up at your face. His eyes narrow seeing the mischievous look in your eyes.
"If you get cheese on my shirt, you're buying me a new one," he warns, though he leans forward anyway, taking a small bite of the pretzel.
He chews slowly, his gaze locked onto yours completely unfazed by the sudden burst of green and purple strobe lights that washes over the crowd. Suddenly, the beat on the stage drops. The crowd lets out a collective, deafening roar as the opening chords of a massive fan-favorite song start to echo through the speakers.
"Oh my god!" Yura shrieks, leaping to her feet. "They're playing it! Get up, get up!"
Before you can even swallow the last bite of the pretzel , Jungkook is yanked to his feet by Yura. He doesn't even stumble, effortlessly matching her high-octane energy with a massive grin, instantly singing along to the opening chords. Hobi is already bouncing on the balls of his feet, his arms thrown into the air as he leads the rhythm for your little patch of the lawn.
"Get up! Come on, Yoongi!" Jimin urges, grabbing you by the hand to pull you up, while Tae pivots his phone camera to capture the transition from peaceful picnic to absolute chaos.
"Oh, no," Yoongi groans. His hands tighten around your waist, holding you down as if he could physically anchor the two of you to the blanket. "We are perfectly comfortable right here. Tell them we're taking an intermission."
"Absolutely not!" You laugh, twisting in his grip to tug at his hands. "You heard her! It's THE song. You can't sit this one out."
Yoongi lets out a heavy, dramatic sigh, but he doesn't let go of your hand. Near the edge of the blanket, Jin is already belting out the opening lines at the top of his lungs, using a stray plastic fork as a microphone. Joonie sways beside him, shaking his head but laughing warmly at the sheer theatricality of it all. The beat builds and it makes the entire lawn of eighty thousand people hold its breath.
And then…the drop.
The sky explodes in a shower of gold and purple lasers, cutting through the humid summer air. The crowd erupts, jumping in perfect, rolling waves. You leap into the air, your hand still firmly locked in Yoongi’s, the warm night wind catching your hair. Around you, your friends are a blur of wild, joyful movement. Yura and Jungkook are jumping side-by-side, singing directly into each other's faces. Jimin is spinning a laughing Hobi and Tae is dancing backward, catching the magic of the moment on camera with a massive, boxy grin.
In the middle of the madness, Yoongi pulls you back against his chest, wrapping his arms securely around your waist from behind. He doesn't jump as high as the others, but he sways in perfect time with your body, keeping you safe amidst the surging crowd. He leans down, his chin tucked into the crook of your neck.
"Happy?" He murmurs against your skin, his low voice barely audible over the roaring chorus of the crowd, yet completely clear to you.
You turn your head just enough to press a quick kiss to his jaw, looking out at the glittering sea of lights, the neon glow of the stage, and the family of friends dancing around you.
"Insanely happy," you breathe back, leaning fully into his warmth as the music carries you both away into the night.
The open night air away from the crowd is a welcome relief against your damp skin as you all slowly filter out of the venue. The distant sound of eighty thousand people dispersing into the dark parking lot feels like the slow comedown of an adrenaline rush.
You’re walking shoulder-to-shoulder with Yoongi, his arm draped comfortably over your shoulders, his fingers lightly playing with the strap of your black tank top. Next to you, Jungkook is carrying a sleepy-looking Yura’s bag, while Jin and Joonie lead the pack, still softly humming the chorus of the final song. As you finally reach the row where the cars are parked, the beep of a key fob echoes through the cool air.
Yura’s head snaps up. The sleepy, exhausted look on her face vanishes in an instant, replaced by a sudden, wicked spark of mischief. She catches your eye, giving you a sharp, silent nod. You know that look. It’s the universal signal for impending chaos. Before Jungkook can even react, Yura lunges. With lightning-fast reflexes, she snatches the keys right out of his hand.
"Hey!" Jungkook gasps, his hand frozen in mid-air.
"Run!" Yura shrieks.
She grabs your wrist, and the two of you bolt. Your red-and-white checkered skirt flutters wildly around your thighs as your sneakers pound against the pavement of the parking lot. Behind you, the boys erupt into a chorus of startled shouts and laughter.
"Hey! Get back here!" Jungkook yells, already giving chase, though he's laughing too hard to make any real ground.
Your heart is pounding in your chest, a wild, breathless laugh bubbling up your throat as you and Yura tear through the rows of parked SUVs. She hits the unlock button again, the headlights of Jungkook's sleek black car flashing in the dark.
Yura doesn't just run…she practically launches herself toward the car. She opens the door and slides into the driver’s seat in one fluid, chaotic motion. You throw open the passenger door, diving inside and slamming it shut just as Jungkook’s shadow looms over the hood.
Click.
Yura locks the doors, throwing her head back against the headrest as she gasps for air, laughing so hard her shoulders shake.
"We made it! Oh my god, we actually made it!" She exclaims.
Outside, Jungkook presses his hands against the driver's side window, his face contorted into a dramatic pout as he taps on the glass. Behind him, Yoongi slowly catches up, his hands shoved into his pockets, shaking his head with a slow, amused grin plastered across his face.
You roll the window down just a tiny, teasing crack.
"Babe, open the door," Jungkook whines, resting his forehead against the cool glass. "I'm tired, I want to go home."
"You can go home," Yura says. "But you're riding with Yoongi. Y/N and I are leading the way... get behind us!"
"Wait, what?! This is my car! You're stealing my car?!" Jungkook’s jaw drops, his wide eyes darting from Yura to his own steering wheel.
"We’re going to be married!" Yura beams, tossing the keys in the air and catching them with a grin. “It's our car!”
Through the narrow gap in the window, your eyes lock with Yoongi’s. He’s standing just a few paces back, his hands still shoved deep into his pockets, watching the entire dramatic standoff. You offer him a bright, unapologetic smile, press your fingertips to your lips, and blow him a lingering, sweet kiss through the glass.
Yoongi’s eyes soften instantly. A slow, lazy grin spreads across his face. He raises one hand from his pocket, mimics catching the kiss right out of the cool night air, and presses it firmly against his heart before tucking his hand away again.
"Hear that, Kook? You've been evicted," Yoongi calls out, his low voice laced with amusement. "Get your stuff. You're riding with me."
"Yoongs, you're just going to let them do this?!" Jungkook whines. "They are literally joyriding in my vehicle!"
"I am not getting between a woman and her post-concert adrenaline, Jungkook. I like living," Yoongi replies dryly. He points a thumb over his shoulder toward his own car. "Besides, Y/N just blew me a kiss. I'm legally obligated to take her side."
"Ah, the power of love, truly a beautiful and terrifying thing," Jin sighs as he, Joonie, and the rest of the guys finally catch up to the scene. Jin pats a heartbroken-looking Jungkook on the back. "Come on, driver-less Kook. I'll let you cry on my shoulder in Yoongi's back seat."
"I call shotgun in Hobi's car!" Jimin yells, instantly sprinting past everyone toward Hobi's car.
"No way! I was already walking faster than you!" Tae shrieks, immediately giving chase, his camera still rolling to capture their chaotic sprint across the parking lot.
Yura turns the key in the ignition, and Jungkook’s car purrs to life, the dashboard glowing in the dark. She looks over at you, her eyes sparkling with absolute thrill as she adjusts the rearview mirror.
"Ready to show them how it's done?" She asks, a wicked smirk playing on her lips.
"Always," you laugh, buckling your seatbelt as you watch Yoongi get in his car.
Yura shifts the car into drive, rolls down her window just enough to wave a cheerful goodbye to a pouting Jungkook, and hits the gas, leaving the boys behind in a flurry of laughter, taillights, and the sweet promise of a late-night drive home.
The familiar streets of your city begin to blur past the windows, the hum of the tires on the asphalt a soothing contrast to the high-energy chaos of the concert. Yura’s hand rests lightly on the steering wheel, her shoulders finally dropping as the post-concert adrenaline begins to settle into a happy, comfortable exhaustion. You both laugh, shaking your heads at the memory of Jungkook’s dramatic pout in the parking lot. As the car glides to a stop at a quiet, red-lit intersection just minutes from home, you lean your head back against the headrest. The streetlights cast amber shadows across the dashboard.
"This was the best night," you say softly, a genuine smile tugging at your lips. "I don't ever want to forget it."
"We'll never forget it," she promises, her voice quiet and certain.
You two look at each other and share a big smile.
Ahead of you, the traffic light shifts.
Green.
Yura turns backs, slips the car into gear, and presses her foot to the gas. The car moves forward into the intersection.
And then… the world violently shatters.
A sudden, blinding wall of white light floods the passenger side of the car, instantly erasing the quiet summer night.
There is no time to scream.
No time to brace.
The sound comes first…a terrifying, metallic crunch. Then comes the spray of shattered glass. The world spins into an abyss of pain, confusion, and blinding white light. Through the confusion, a voice tears through the night…raw, desperate, and broken.
"Y/N! Y/N!"
It’s Yoongi.
His voice is a sound you’ve never heard from him before. It’s completely stripped of his usual calm, sharp with pure terror.
Everything returns in slow, disjointed fragments.
The heavy, metallic smell of iron. The harsh, swaying fluorescent lights above. You’re moving, but you aren’t walking. The world bounces rhythmically beneath you, accompanied by the muffled wail of a siren. Your eyes feel heavy, fluttering opening only to a dizzying haze. Your body feels distant, weighed down by a dull, throbbing ache.
"Stay with us, stay right here," a paramedic’s calm, steady voice echoes from somewhere above your head, but you can barely process the words.
You try to move your fingers, and immediately, someone catches them. The grip is frantic and trembling You force your gaze to shift to the side. Sitting on the cramped bench beside your stretcher, doubled over with his forehead pressed against your knuckles, is Yoongi.
His usual quiet composure is completely shattered. His hair is a tangled mess, and his breath hitches in choked sobs that make his whole frame shake. The white t-shirt he’d worn to the concert is soaked in dark, crimson stains…and as your vision slowly focuses, you realize his hands are covered in deep, raw cuts, blood dripping onto your shared grip.
"Yoon..." the name barely leaves your lips, coming out as a weak rasp.
The moment he hears you, Yoongi’s head snaps up. His eyes are bloodshot, flooded with tears that stream freely down his pale cheeks.
"Hey, hey…don't try to talk. Don't move," he begs. He lifts your hand to his trembling lips, pressing a desperate, lingering kiss to your knuckles. "I'm right here. I've got you, baby. I'm right here."
You weakly nod against the firm structure of the neck brace, forcing your eyelids to stay heavy, half-open. You believe him. With every slowly draining ounce of energy in your body, you believe him.
Yoongi is here.
His hand is around yours.
You are going to be fine.
You have to be.
The stretcher rattles violently as the ambulance takes a sharp turn, tires screeching against the asphalt outside. He leans closer, his forehead resting lightly against the side of your head, with excruciating care not to press down. You can smell the copper scent of blood mixing with the summer night air of the concert. Yoongi takes your left hand in his. You can barely feel him slip your ring off your finger.
"I've got it," Yoongi whispers, his voice cracking as his fist tightens around the thin silver band of your engagement ring. He brings his closed fist up to his mouth, pressing a desperate, desperate kiss to his own knuckles where your ring is safely tucked away. "I’m holding onto it. It’s right here. You just stay with me, Y/N. Do you hear me? You stay right here."
The darkness pulls you under, drowning out the frantic wail of sirens. It drowns out the desperate warmth of Yoongi’s hand, and the heavy scent of copper and summer night air. When you finally break through the surface of unconsciousness, the world has been reduced to a sterile silence.
Your eyelids feel like lead, but as you force them open, the first thing you notice is morning light filtering through blinds. A sterile white ceiling. The steady, slow rhythmic beep... beep... beep... of a heart monitor starts to cut through the silence. The sharp, clean smell of antiseptic and bleach hits your nose. You try to turn your head, a dull, throbbing ache radiating from the base of your skull down to your collarbone.
"Sweetheart?"
A voice, soft and trembling, breaks the silence. You blink, your vision slowly clearing to reveal two faces hovering near the side of the hospital bed. Your mother’s eyes are bloodshot, her face exhausted, while your father stands just behind her, his hand resting heavily on her shoulder.
"Mom? Dad?" Your voice comes out as a dry, scratchy whisper.
"Oh, thank God. Thank God you're awake. Doctor! She's awake!" Your mother lets out a choked sob, immediately reaching out to cradle your face in her trembling hands.
"You're okay. You're safe. We're right here." Your dad leans closer to you.
You swallow hard, your mind floating in a strange, terrifying fog. You look around the room. The white walls, the IV drip hooked into the back of your hand, the vase of fresh flowers on the windowsill. The room feels heavy, but more than that, it feels entirely empty. A cold, hollow ache sits right in the middle of your chest, but you don't know why. You search your thoughts for what happened, for where you were before this, but coming up empty is like staring into a horizon where you can't see anything. There is nothing. Just blank, terrifying white noise.
"What... what happened?" You ask, your voice raspy as your dad gently holds a cup of water with a straw to your lips.
You take a small sip, the cool liquid soothing your dry throat.
"You were in an accident," your dad explains. "A really bad car accident. A drunk driver ran a red light."
A sudden, sharp panic spikes in your chest, sending the heart monitor into a faster, more urgent rhythm. Beep-beep-beep-beep. A memory doesn't return, but an instinct does…a frantic, phantom sensation of sitting next to someone, of shared laughter, of a warm hand slipping away.
"Was... was someone with me?"You ask, your voice rising in pitch as your eyes dart between your parents' faces. Your heart is pounding in your chest, demanding an answer to a question you don't even fully understand. "Was someone else in the car? Who was driving?"
Your mother’s hand freezes on your arm.
She exchanges a swift, tense look with your father. A look loaded with unspoken words, and secrecy. When she turns her gaze back to you, her eyes are glistening with fresh tears, her expression changing quickly. She reaches out, gently smoothing the hair back from your forehead, her touch trembling.
"That doesn't matter anymore," your mother says, her voice barely above a whisper. "None of that matters now. All that matters is that you're alive."
"No, wait…" You pull back slightly, confusion and fear swirling violently in your chest. "Who was it? Why can't I remember? Who was with me?!"
"Honey, please, calm down, you're going to hurt yourself," your dad urges, his hands coming down gently on your shoulders to keep you from sitting up too fast. "The doctors said you suffered a severe concussion. Traumatic brain injury. Your memories... they might take time. Or they might..." He trails off, unable to finish the sentence.
"You need to rest," your mother insists, her thumb stroking your cheek as if trying to soothe a child. "Just focus on healing. Forget everything else. You're safe now. With us."
The suffocating weight of the hospital room crushes inward, the sharp beep-beep-beep of the monitor accelerating into a deafening, continuous whine. Your mother's face distorts behind a veil of unshed tears, her desperate words blurring together as the sterile white walls begin to crack, dissolve, and wash away into a terrifying, endless void.
You're falling. The copper smell of blood, the blinding white glare of headlights, and the agonizing sound of Yoongi's broken voice screaming your name echoes as you're being pulled down, down, down…..
Your eyes snap open.
A sharp gasp tears from your throat as you hit the mattress, your heart hammering wildly against your ribs. The room is dark, save for the soft, familiar glow of the street lights outside.
No sirens.
No hospital monitors.
No blood.
You sit up abruptly, your chest heaving as hot, silent tears instantly burst from your eyes, spilling over your eyelashes and trailing down your cheeks. Your tank top is drenched, sticking uncomfortably to your skin. Your hair clings to your forehead, and your hands are shaking so violently you can barely pull the covers off your lap.
Beside you, Yoongi stirs, shifting instantly from deep sleep to high alert. Within an instant, he's sitting up, his dark eyes blinking away the fog of sleep as he takes in your shaking form. Through the dark he can see your ragged breathing, and the tears pouring down your face.
"Y/N?" His voice is thick, deep, and raspy with sleep, but laced with immediate concern.
Without waiting for an answer, he reaches for you. His large, warm hands wrap around your waist. "Hey, hey…what is it? What's wrong?" He asks quietly.
You don't say a word. You can't. The phantom terror of losing him, of waking up in a cold room where his memory was being erased, is still there. You're terrified that you are suddenly back there.
You scramble across the mattress, burying your face directly into the crook of his neck, locking your arms around his shoulders with a desperate grip. You hold onto him so tightly your knuckles turn white, clinging to the soft cotton of his shirt. Your hot, sweaty forehead presses hard against his skin, and a choked sob escapes your lips right into his shoulder.
"Woah, baby..." Yoongi lets out a soft, breathy sigh, his arms instantly wrapping firmly around your back. He pulls you all the way into his lap, gathering you against his chest until you are completely flush against him.
"Shh, I've got you. I'm right here," Yoongi whispers, his hand coming up to cup the back of your head. His fingers weave through your damp hair, pressing your head closer to his neck as he begins to gently sway the two of you back and forth. "It was just a dream, Sweetheart. Just a bad dream. I'm right here. You're safe."
He shifts slightly, his nose brushing against your sweaty temple as he presses a slow, lingering kiss to your skin, entirely unbothered by how damp and overheated you are. His cool hands move up and down your back, rubbing steady circles through your sweat-soaked tank top.
"You're burning up," he says softly against your ear. "You sweated right through your shirt, baby. What on earth were you dreaming about?"
You tighten your grip on his shoulders, burying your face deeper into his skin. The horrible, metallic smell of the accident completely vanishes, replaced entirely by him. You shake your head, not ready to talk about it.
The sobs don't stop.
They come in violent, shuddering waves that leave your chest aching, your fingers still fisted in the back of Yoongi's sleep shirt.
He doesn't rush you.
He simply keeps holding you, rocking the two of you in slow, patient motions. One of his hands is spread across your back while the other cradles the back of your head.
"It's okay," he whispers again, kissing your hair. "You don't have to tell me. Just breathe with me."
You try.
You really do.
But every time you close your eyes, you see blinding headlights.
You see him crying at your side.
Your grip tightens even harder.
"I can't..." Your voice breaks. "I can't let go."
"You don't have to," he tells you.
"No..." you whisper frantically. "I mean it. Don't make me let go."
"Okay," he whispers, nodding against you.
No questions.
No hesitation.
"Come on." He simply presses another kiss against your temple.
He carefully slides off the bed, never prying your arms from around him. Instead, he lifts you with him, your legs instinctively wrapping around his waist as your face remains buried against his neck.
"Let's get you in the shower," he says.
The feeling of his body beneath your cheek calms you enough that you don't protest. He carries you into the bathroom. The overhead light flicks on, making you squint as he turns it on.
"I'll start the water." He gently lowers you onto the counter.
Only when he tries to step away do your fingers panic.
"No." Your voice comes out far sharper than you intended. His head immediately turns. "I... don't go."
"I'm only turning the faucet on," he promises.
"No." You shake your head, already reaching for him again.
He understands. Without another word, he reaches behind the shower curtain, turns the handle until steam begins rising into the room, then comes back to you.
"I'm here." He smiles weakly at you and you grab the hem of his shirt like it's the only solid thing in existence.
"...Come with me." You look at him.
"In the shower?" His eyebrows lift ever so slightly and you nod immediately.
"I can't..." You can't finish the sentence.
Can't let you out of my sight.
Can't lose you.
Can't wake up without you.
The words remain trapped somewhere deep inside your chest.
Yoongi doesn't need to hear them.
He sees them written across your face.
"...Okay." He nods. "I'm getting in."
He helps peel your damp tank top over your head before tugging his own shirt off, dropping both onto the floor. Neither of you pays much attention to the growing pile of clothes. A minute later, warm water pours over both of you. The steam fills the bathroom, wrapping everything in a comforting haze. You stand beneath the spray with your arms still wrapped tightly around his middle. Your forehead rests against his chest. He doesn't ask you to move. Instead, one hand rubs slow circles between your shoulder blades while the other reaches for the shampoo.
"I've got you," he promises.
The familiar scent fills the air as he works the shampoo into your hair with impossibly gentle fingers. His nails lightly scratch against your scalp.
It's soothing.
Almost hypnotic.
The panic slowly loosens its grip.
Your breathing evens out.
For several quiet minutes, the only sounds are falling water and the soft lather between his hands.
"...We were at a concert," you whisper under the sound of the shower falling around you. "Yura and I were spinning... and Jin yelled at us," you continue. Yoongi's fingers slow on your scalp. "I collapsed on your lap," you murmur, your arms tightening around his waist as if double-checking that he's still solid, still real. "And Jimin... he fed me a..."
"A pretzel," Yoongi finishes softly.
You slowly tilt your head up.
The warm water continues to fall around the two of you, but the atmosphere inside the small area instantly shifts. Yoongi’s hand comes to a complete rest on the back of your head, his fingers tangled in the soapy lather of your wet hair. His eyes meet yours. The quiet, relaxed air he’d carried just moments before is gone, replaced by a weight so heavy it seems to take the very breath from his lungs. Your voice trembles, barely carrying over the steady rush of the shower.
"It wasn't a dream, was it?" You ask.
Yoongi doesn't speak right away. He just stares down at you, his lower lip trembles slightly as the water falls down his pale cheeks. Slowly, painfully, he shakes his head no. A cold wave of realization crashes through you, making your knees feel weak.
"The... the ambulance..." You swallow past the thick, aching lump in your throat, your voice breaking into a fragile whisper. "Did you... did you really take my engagement ring off my finger in the ambulance?"
Yoongi closes his eyes. A single, choked sob breaks out of his chest. His hand slides down from your hair, his shoulders violently shaking as he drops his forehead against yours. The tears spill freely from his eyes now, mixing with the hot water washing over his face. Yoongi’s hands tremble as they frame your face. The water cascades over his shoulders, but all of his focus is locked entirely on you.
"Yes," he rasps, his voice breaking as he keeps his forehead pressed against yours. "I took it off. In the ambulance... while they were cutting your clothes. Your hands were swelling so fast," Yoongi whispers. "The paramedics... they were moving so fast, Y/N. There was blood everywhere, and they kept saying your vitals were unstable, and I... I panicked. Your parents..."
He pauses, swallowing hard as a fresh wave of emotion washes over his face.
"I knew how your parents felt about us," he continues, his voice barely audible over the rush of the water. "I knew the moment they got to that hospital, they were going to pull you away from me. I was terrified... terrified that if things went wrong, or if they took control, they would take that ring right off your finger. I was so scared it was going to get lost in the trauma room, or that they’d take it and I'd never be able to give it back to you."
The two of you look at one another. He turns you and through his tears, he still rinses your hair.
"I kept it in my pocket the entire time," Yoongi chokes out. "Even when your mom told me to leave the waiting room. Even when they wouldn't let me back in to see you. I held onto it so hard my palm was bruised.”
The hot water continues to cascade over your shoulders, washing away the lingering suds, but neither of you moves away from the spray. Yoongi’s hands are impossibly soft as he gently tilts your head back, cupping the nape of your neck to help you rinse away the remaining lather. Even through his quiet sobs, his care for you is so incredibly tender.
Slowly, you raise your own shaking hand.
Your fingers reach up, brushing the wet strands of dark hair back from his forehead, running your hand through his wet hair just to feel the silkiness of it, to feel the heat of his scalp beneath your palm. You trace the line of his jaw, stopping where your thumb can brush against his cheek, wiping away a drop of water that mixes with his tears.
"Yoongi..." you whisper.
He blinks, his dark eyes locking back onto yours, searching your face as if still terrified you might fade away if he looks away for even a second. Your thumb lingers on his cheek, tracing the familiar curve of his cheekbone as the warm water falls around you both.
"I remember," you whisper, through the rushing of the water.
Yoongi’s breath hitches. His hands slide back down to cup your neck gently, but his posture freezes, his dark eyes widening just a fraction as he stares into yours.
"It wasn't from the dream," you say, your voice trembling. "I remember the ambulance. I remember waking up on that stretcher, and seeing you beside me."
A fresh tear spills over his eyelashes, catching in the stream of water on his cheek. He doesn't pull away, but he looks at you as if he's terrified to get his hopes up.
"I remember how tightly you were holding my hand," you continue. "Your hands were cut, and you were shaking so hard, but you wouldn't let go. You just kept repeating my name."
Yoongi lets out a ragged, shallow breath, his lower lip quivering as he squeezes his eyes shut. His forehead drops heavily back against yours.
"I was so terrified," you whisper against his skin, your hand dropping from his face to wrap around his wet shoulder, pulling him as close as you could get him. "I was in so much pain and scared... but when I felt your grip on my fingers, I wasn't scared anymore. I remember thinking... I'm going to be okay. Because Yoongi’s here."
He makes a strangled sound in the back of his throat, his arms instantly wrapping around your back, pulling you flush against his chest. He buries his face in the crook of your neck, his body shaking with deep, silent sobs as the hot water pours down over the two of you.
You close your eyes, holding him just as tightly. You pull back just enough to look at him, cupping both sides of his face in your wet hands, forcing him to look back at you through the haze of tears and steam.
“I remember loving you," you whisper.
Yoongi blinks, a soft gasp escaping his lips at your words. The quiet grief that had weighed down his shoulders for so long seems to shatter completely.
"Y/N..." he breathes as you look up at him and take a deep breath.
“I can still feel it.” You nod. “What I felt looking at you in that ambulance. What I felt in my dream when he danced at that concert. I'm remembering loving you.”
Without another second's hesitation, Yoongi leans in to capture your lips in a deep, desperate kiss. It’s hot, wet, and filled with years of unspoken relief. It's a kiss that tastes of salt and shower water. His hand tangles back into your wet hair, holding you close as if making sure you never slip away again, while his other arm locks securely around your waist. When he finally pulls back, his breathing is ragged.
“I love you,” he whispers and you hold him tighter. “You don't have to say it back. What you just said…. it's enough for me.”
“Yoongi.” You stare up at him. “I'm falling in love with you.”
He kisses you again.
"God, Y/N..." he breathes out, his voice a low, raspy whisper against your lips. "Then take your time," Yoongi murmurs softly, his lips brushing against your skin with every word. His grip on your waist stays firm. "Fall as slowly as you want. I'm not going anywhere. I'll be right here every step of the way."
“Thank you for holding onto me,” you say, sliding your hands down his chest.
“Always,” he tells you, with a small smile. “Always.”
