cowlick a min yoongi one-shot
pairing: idol!min yoongi x wife!f!reader
genre: pwp
rating: explicit content MDNI!!!
summary: you're the reason why your husband’s hair is a mess for the 'hooligan' mv.
warnings/tags: yoongi pov, quickie in a trailer, riding, unprotected sex, they're married and reader wants to get pregnant, his boys make fun of him lol
wc: 1.7k
notes: i say im burnt out from writing smut and then i go and write this. it's just bc yoongi makes me so insane 😩 this was inspired by a convo between myself and aqua (contents of which may or may not be based on real life events) so im dedicating this to her 🫶💜 thank u for betaing last minute!!
Yoongi’s supposed to be on set. But instead he’s sweating under his leather outfit with you spread out on his lap, bouncing on his cock.
It starts off with him just going to his trailer because he forgot his lucky bracelet (the one you gave him on his birthday the first year you celebrated together). The door almost hits him on the ass by the time you jump him, and he barely has time to be surprised before you grab his face and pull him down.
“How’d you sneak in here?” he chuckles between breathless kisses, hands going to your waist like clockwork.
“I’m your wife. Duh,” you snap, fingers ensnaring the heavy chains around his neck.
“I start filming in five minutes.”
“I’ll be quick.” He never argues with you. He lets you push him down on the couch, straddle him, kiss and lick at the base of his neck, knowing you don’t need the reminder not to make marks unless you want a hit put on you by his stylist, and you’re always careful not to touch his face for that same reason. It takes him a second to realize you’re wearing a skirt. He opens his mouth to scold you for coming to see him in clothes like that since it’s so cold out but then you reach under to dip into your bare, sopping pussy. Ah. Easy access. You came with a plan.
In all the years you’ve been together, it’s never taken much for you to get him hard. You walk into a room and bam - he has to adjust himself. And when you touch him - there goes his thoughts for a few minutes. It’s always been like this, and he knows it’ll never change. So when you figure out how to get into his boxers without pushing down too much leather, he’s already stiff and leaking at the tip.
You smear down his precum and he bites his lip when you grab his cock with the fingers you had between your legs, glistening with your slick, making him nice and wet for you.
“Damn, baby. Were you playing with yourself while you waited for me?”
“Mhmm,” you nod, whimpering as you finally let him penetrate your walls. You’re so wet and warm and tight when you sink down on him that he has to hold in a breath to keep himself together. But then he reminds himself that this is a quickie. He knows you could stay here and ride him until his balls are empty, but, unfortunately, he doesn’t have that kind of time. His phone - that he shouldn’t even have on him in the first place (he does though, just for you) - has been vibrating in his pocket for the past few minutes, but the more he’s distracted, the longer it’ll take him to make you both come, so he ignores it.
Your hands grip his shoulders as you wiggle your hips to adjust to his girth that he finds so fucking cute every single time, but he can hardly feel your touch through the thick leather of his jacket. He curses, because his fingerless gloves are preventing him from fully touching the skin on your hip, so he grips you hard enough to bruise. Usually, he’d let you bounce and ride him until you came on him and got too tired to carry on, but to speed things up, he bucks up into you, watching your parted lips spill out moans as he grinds against your spot, grunting as it makes you squeeze him and suck him deeper in. He kisses you, swallowing your sweet sounds, and his balls tighten when your fingers dig into the side of his head, tightly fisting his hair. Telltale sign that you’re close. You must've really worked yourself up while you were waiting for him.
“Come for me,” he whispers against your lips, fingers dropping and finding your clit to press and rub you over the edge. You loudly cry out his name, pulling at his hair so his head tips to the side as he continues fucking up into you and kissing the underside of your jaw. “That’s it, baby. Fuck, you’re squeezing me so good.”
“Come inside," you warble, cheek lolling against his temple, fingers still entangled in his hair, cunt clenching him through your aftershocks.
“Mm.” Eyebrows pinched, his fingers return to flex on your hip, cock twitching at the mere thought of getting to fill you up. “Remember to take your pill.”
You whine, indignant. He sighs, shakes his head. You make that sound when he doesn’t give you what you want.
“I’ll give you a baby when we come back from tour, ‘kay?”
You whine again, louder and borderline disobedient, slamming down on him like it tells him something. Sucking in a hiss because damn that felt good, he slaps your ass and massages out the sting, a silent warning to stop being a brat. This is one thing he’s not going to let you win an argument about.
“Hey, that was the deal, right? I’m not leaving you at home alone and pregnant while I fly around the world for eight months.”
“Yeah, but by the time you’d get back, you’d have a baby. You wouldn’t have to deal with all my pregnancy bullshit,” you try to reason, hips still rolling, eyes glassy and pout pathetic. He frowns. You’ve both had this conversation multiple times before, but that’s the first time you’ve made this point. He doesn’t fucking like it.
Yoongi tugs down on your waist to get you to stop, pelvises pressed together, cock deep inside you. But you know better than to move.
“Look at me.” You refuse, and the leather of his fingerless gloves rubs your cheeks as he grabs them. “I want to deal with all your pregnancy bullshit. I married you, remember? I signed up to put up with all your bullshit for the rest of my life and I don’t plan on missing out on any of it.”
His eyes dart between both of yours, making sure what he said is sticking with you, and when you lean in to sloppily kiss him, he knows the message got through.
“Now, c’mon. You said you were gonna be quick.”
You sit up straighter, and you’re clearly weakened from your orgasm but you put in effort that he’ll worship you for later to bring him to his own peak. Slick sounds of your pussy and slams of your hips fill the trailer, and within seconds of you squeezing him, sucking on his earlobe, and toying with his chains, he’s muttering an incoherent string of curses and spilling deep inside you. His balls just keep pulsing and holyyy shit, he really could get you pregnant right now. (He would love nothing more, but later he’ll text you another reminder to take your pill).
“I love you so fucking much,” he pants into your neck, wishing he had the time to leave his mark. “Even though you’re gonna get me in so much fucking trouble.”
“Love you, too. Don’t forget you married trouble,” You grin, waggling his ring on your finger in his facr, and his hips jerk as you lift off of him. He tips his chin up when you start to lean in for another kiss but your mouth drops and your eyes go wide.
“Oh, fuck, your hair-“ You reach out to try and fix it, but just as you do, a loud pounding on the trailer door startles the both of you.
“Shit, gotta go,” Yoongi mutters, quickly stuffing himself back in this godforsaken leather as his manager starts yelling for him to come out. You try your best to smooth down his hair, but when you keep muttering curses under your breath, he knows it’s not working.
“It’s fine. I’ll see you later.” He kisses you, lingers a second longer than he has time for, and leaves you sitting on the couch, skirt halfway up your waist, fingers playing with his cum dripping out. Fuck, you’re gonna be the death of him. He needs to shoot this music video first.
Yoongi’s manager chews him all the way out onto the set, and his stylist gives him the evilest eye when she catches sight of his hair. He just scurries towards his band because his manager already said there’s no time to fix it.
“Where were you?” Namjoon exclaims as Yoongi walks towards the center of the platform. He shrugs, like he’s not still perspiring and his dick isn’t still hard. Luckily, his leather pants are bulky enough to hide it.
“I had to grab something.”
“Look at his hair! That means his honey came to visit,” Hobi says, waggling his brows. Yoongi shoots him daggers.
“Shut up.”
The maknaes burst into raucous laughter and Taehyung and Jimin mime grabbing at each other, making overexaggerated kissing noises and mimicking the way you cry out Yoongi’s name. Yoongi turns his back on them to go to his spot, just missing Jeongguk thrusting in the air like he’s mid-Baepsae.
“You brought this on yourself,” Namjoon mutters, stepping up next to him, fixing his gloves. Yoongi pretends not to hear. “It’s been, what, four years? And y’all still act like newlyweds.”
“We’re making up for the time we missed while I was in the military.”
Namjoon’s face pulls back, disgusted. “Okay, well, can you not do that on our schedule?”
“Sorry, leader-nim,” Yoongi fake apologizes, pressing his hands together, smirk lopsided and shit-eating. “Maybe if you let her come on tour, she wouldn’t find any downtime I have now to, yknow, make up.”
Namjoon sighs, long and distressed. Yoongi only feels a little bad. You’re his wife. He needs you by his side, and not just to have little quickies whenever there’s minutes to spare. He was enough of a wreck being away from you during his service. He doesn’t want that to happen because of work.
“Fine. I’ll see what I can do.”
Yoongi smiles, lighting up inside and out. “Thanks, bro. You’re the best.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Namjoon waves him off, just in time for the director to call for action.
He doesn’t know how crazy his hair looks until they play the footage back to check for mistakes and potential position adjustments. His band members tease him, but it makes him smile that it’s there because you need to grab onto his hair when he makes you come. No one outside of this set will ever know his cowlick is thanks to his wife, and that makes him like it even more.
He still left his damn bracelet.
.
.
.
thank you for reading!!! ahhhh i cant believe this happened lmao pls let me know what you think with comments and reblogs!! 💜
bf! Yoongi, who supports you by default. Your cold toes wiggle under his calf, shocking him since he’d been lying in bed, cozy, hours before you finally decided to join him. You mumble a sleepy apology, ready to move back, but he’s already pulling you closer.
“C’mere,” he mumbles softly, tucking your head into the crook of his neck; your nose is just as cold as your toes when you brush along the curve of his throat, and he suppresses the shiver climbing up his spine in response. Instead, he pulls you even closer, giving you his body heat as you snuggle deeper into him with a dreamy smile.
bf! Yoongi moves quietly. He doesn’t have this need to constantly tell you, “I love you.” He shows it’s when you get home from work, heading to his place because it’s closer, and you were missing him more than usual.
You all but melt into a puddle the moment you step inside his apartment. Your jacket fell to the floor right after you took your shoes off one by one, and you found Yoongi sitting on his couch, less than three seconds after you made a noise of greeting at the front door.
You’re too tired to converse and curl into his side, blinking glossy-eyed up at your man as he takes your hand in his. He intertwines his fingers with yours and sits with you in silence, rubbing your head with one hand as you curl into his lap with a soft sigh, finally relaxing because you're home.
bf! Yoongi doesn’t say he misses you outwardly. Instead, you get a message every few hours asking if you have eaten or drunk enough water today. Eventually, it’s too much for him, and he FaceTimes you when he knows you're home.
He doesn’t speak right away once you answer; his eyes flicker over your face as a little smile twitches on the corner of his lips, getting a good look at you for the first time today. Then he tries to act casual, claiming he wanted to show you some hobbies he’s picked up while away for work.
He shows you a guitar he bought, a cat figurine that looks like Tang, and as he tries to find more things to talk about to stay on FaceTime with you, you’re settling in bed, smiling, because you missed him too.
bf! Yoongi drags his fingers over your body with soft swirls, ghosting over every dip and curve. He maps out from the top of your head, massaging your scalp in smooth carresses that leave you plaint and humming. Then he trails lower, brushing over the slope of your nose, your eyelids, your lips- leaving them tingling while he traces down your neck absentmindedly.
The hum of the air conditioning is the only noise in the room, mixing with your soft breaths and his deep ones, the longer you two lie here. His fingertips swirl in curves, then lines, keeping you balanced between the edge of sleep and feeling more alive in his hands.
Sometimes, when you focus too much on the drawings he makes, you decode messages he tells you against your skin. "I love you" is a favorite of his, and he writes it the most in big loops and deeper pressure, like he's trying to engrave it into your bones in case you somehow don't know it already.
author’s note: hello, everyone! i’m not really sure where this idea came from, i just saw the “i used to have a crush on you” prompt in my prompt list and bam. i’m just trying to write more in order to fight both boredom and writer’s block here but it turned out longer than i expected lol. i hope you enjoy!
Synopsis: Plagued by filthy dreams of your stepfather, you can’t help yourself as you play with your new toy, imagining your stepfather, Yoongi, as the one you’re riding instead.
Pairing: Stepfather Yoongi x Stepdaughter reader
Tw: pseudo-incest, dilf yoongi, masturbation, sex toys, degrading language. If this grosses you out then don’t bother reading or commenting, thank ya!!!
You know it’s wrong. You know that the way you throb between your thighs whenever you so much as glance at your stepfather is not natural. It should repulse you. It would for sure repulse anyone else around you if they knew.
But you just can’t help yourself…
There’s been numerous times where you’ve found yourself three fingers deep inside your cunt with Yoongi’s name sitting on the tip of your tongue, but never being said out loud. That would make it too real and you’re not ready to admit that you’re touching yourself to the thought of your stepfather every night.
Even though that’s exactly what it is.
It has gotten to a point where fingers just weren’t enough anymore. Your small hands paled in comparison to Yoongi’s long and slender fingers.
You wondered what they would feel like, holding you open, parting your folds and sinking deep inside of you up to the last knuckle.
You ordered your first sex toy as soon as those thoughts started keeping you up at night.
At first you thought it would be a good idea to get a vibrator. All your friends excitedly talked about how they couldn’t get themselves off anymore without it. A vibrator sounded nice, but it wasn’t what you really wanted.
You needed to be filled. Stuffed to the brim until your walls pulsed and you couldn’t take it anymore. You wanted to feel the burn and ache of having something split you open. You knew that what you truly craved was having a cock lodged deep inside of you.
So the plan of buying a vibrator was quickly thrown out the window and a dildo was smoothly added to your cart instead, checking out without as much as a second thought. You had been antsy all day. Biting the skin around your nails as you waited, looking out the window every few minutes for the delivery truck.
And before you knew it, you found yourself sitting in bed with a cardboard box in your lap and a nervous turmoil in your tummy.
Admittedly, you probably overestimated yourself.
The silicone toy was big, sitting heavy in your palms. You had never taken something like this before. You didn’t even know if it’ll fit! The thought of struggling to slide the thick dildo up your pussy makes you lick your lips in anticipation.
Within minutes you’re a panting and moaning mess, stubby fingers trembling as they scissor inside your weeping pussy, curling, but never quite hitting the spots that were sure to make you keen.
The toy sits by your side on the crumbled bed sheets, antagonizing you. You knew you had to prep yourself before even thinking about taking it, but you were just too impatient.
“Hmpf!” You exhale in frustration, pressing down on your clit to add even more wetness to the slickness that already had your fingers slipping.
You just wanted to be full.
“Please…”
You don’t know who or what you’re pleading for, but you sniffle pathetically as you raise up to your knees, grabbing the toy with shaky fingers. You have to grip it with both hands, mouth parting as you stare at it. It’s intimidating and you’re afraid it won’t fit, but the thought of getting to have something so huge inside you makes you clench around nothing.
You can’t wait anymore.
Sitting on your back had gotten uncomfortable. You didn’t feel like you were in control enough that way. Quickly looking around the room, you decide the floor will just have to do. The suction cup makes the dildo stand up ramrod straight in front of you, looking huge and intimidating.
You gulp at the sight.
Your knees ache against the wooden floor as you position yourself above the dildo, bulbous head catching onto your hole. You gasp, moving your hips back and forth so it would rub over your parted folds. A loud moan leaves you, and echoes around the room, before you can stop it.
You’re dripping all over the toy, drooly cunt eager to take the huge fake cock already. You hated teasing yourself, but the way you deny yourself of the toy makes everything feel so much more…real.
In your head, this is exactly how things would go. You’d be a impatient, trembling mess, desperate to have your insides rearranged by Yoongi’s huge cock. You’d beg and cry and shake until you got your way, sugary sweet moans filling up the room as you got stuffed full just the way you craved.
“Such a bad girl, Y/n. Riding your stepfather’s cock like this with no shame. You’re just desperate for it, aren’t you?”
“Yes…” You exhale as you let your hips sink lower.
The intrusion makes you gasp, fingernails digging into your thighs as the rubbery head slides inside your slick hole. The relief of it is delicious, making you feel satiated to finally have something inside.
“Ah!” You gasp, crying out when you sink down further, gummy walls taking too much at once. You ache and it burns, but in a way that stirs the fire inside your tummy. You barely just started and you already feel yourself teetering towards an orgasm.
Closing your eyes, you breathe in deeply and let your mind wander. You think about hands on your body, bruising your sides, and gripping your tits forcefully, making you gasp at the rough way you’re being handled. You toy with your nipples as you slowly allow yourself to slip down another inch, breath getting caught in your throat.
“You love this, don’t you, sweetheart? Such a slut, want your pussy filled at all times. Stuffed to the brim until you can’t take it anymore.”
“God, yes!” You cry out, a stammered sob escapes your mouth when you sink further down the dildo, walls pulsing deliciously around it.
Your nipples hurt from the way you’re pinching them, but you can’t bring yourself to stop. You want to be roughed up, manhandled by forceful hands without a care, as if you’re nothing more than a rag doll. A good toy, so malleable for Yoongi to play with and do as he pleases.
You wanted to be that for him.
“Do it, baby, sit on my cock. Take what you want.”
With a drawn out moan, you fall down the rest of the length, your eyes that were previously closed snap open wide. Your mouth parts, stuttered gasps escaping through your parted lips as you struggle to breathe through the burn of your walls. Your so full it hurts, but it hurts so good.
Your body leans forward, hands holding up your weight, trying to keep yourself upright. It aches and you don’t know if you can even move right now, but you will yourself to do it.
Yoongi wouldn’t wait. He would use you as he pleases, pounding your little pussy until he knocked the breath out of you, leaving you crying and begging for more. You let your hips lift almost all the way off the dildo, before slamming back down, crying out at the rough intrusion. Your bottom lip trembles and your fingers cramp from how hard you’re trying to dig them into the ground. It’s too much and not enough all at once.
“Such a good slut, all mine to use and defile. What are you, Y/n? Tell daddy.”
“I-I’m a slut!” You sob, hips stuttering as you start to desperately ride the toy, slick sounds filling up the quiet room.
You don’t think you’ve ever been this wet, you’re gushing down the entire girth of the fake dick inside of you. The sounds your pussy makes has your cheeks burning up in shame. You’re desperately riding a cock that doesn’t even belong to the man you’re fantasizing about.
How pathetic.
You sniffle and whimper continuously as you bounce up and down the length, squeezing around it tightly. You think Yoongi would like that. He would tell you how good you are. How tight you feel around him and how well you’re taking it.
A good little whore for him to use. He would grunt out how you’re nothing more than a warm hole for him to sink his cock into.
“P-please!” You cry out, throwing your head back. One of your hands grabs your breast as the other grips tightly onto your thigh, digging sharp lines onto the skin with your fingernails.
“Cum on my cock, sweetheart. I know you want to.”
“Gonna c-cum!” you moan, frantically riding the toy, your hips move messily as it hits all the right spots inside of your pussy that makes your vision go white.
Too lost in your pleasure, you don’t hear the way the floor behind your bedroom door creaks.
“Gonna cum for me, Y/n? Are you gonna cum all over your daddy’s dick like a good little girl?”
“Yes!” You sob, knees aching and thighs burning as you feel yourself being thrown over the edge.
You think about being filled with Yoongi’s cum. How it would shoot up inside of you hotly, leaking out the sides of your pussy, stuffing you to the brim. It’s with the thought of being deflowerd and with the name of your stepfather on your tongue that you finally cum, wetness splattering loudly around the dildo and down onto the floor.
“Yoongi!” You sob, falling forward on the hard floor. Your whole body is shaking, dildo sadly sliding out of you, as you sob through your orgasm. Your front slams onto the ground, cheek squished against the wooden floor, ass raised up, leaving your walls pulsing around nothing.
Through your stuttered cries, you don’t hear the door sliding open. Your mind is somewhere too far away to notice the footsteps that stop next to you until there’s a body crouching in front of you.
Your hair gets pushed away from your face by fingers that aren’t yours. With a loud gasp, your head rises up, glazed over eyes meeting a pair of familiar black ones.
The protagonist of your daydreams sits in front of you, holding nothing but lust inside his gaze as he eyes your trembling form. All you can do is watch as his tongue pokes out to skim over his bottom lip as he takes you in. Finally, a deep sigh escapes your stepfather, making every hair on your body stand up.
“Quite the sight, aren’t you, baby?”
Oh fuck.
A/n: I know this is short but, yes there will be a part 2. and no, i will not be tagging anyone. just follow me lol. make sure you thoroughly read my pinned tho please and thanks 🙏🏽
But when he realised he liked you way more than what he prepared himself for
Oh then he was in trouble
So it took him a few eternities to gather up the courage to cross the "just friends" line
That's other thing I believe in
The friends to lovers trope is strong with this one alright
So the bad thing is that this is why it took him so damn long to accept his feelings and do something about it
Because he didn't wanna lose you and your friendship in case you didn't reciprocate
But it's also good
There's nothing better than dating your best friend after all
But moving forward to the actual dating stage
(because him gathering up the courage to shoot his shot was a whole odyssey)
Dating him isn't really about passion
Of course there's that
But the focus isn't on the fast heart beats and warmth spreading all over your being
It's about being safe, comfortable and understood
He's your rock and you are his safe place
So the relationship is very cozy and domestic
One of the things that didn't allow him to get close to you at first was his career
He didn't want to put all the spotlight and pressure on you
But now that he got you? He is not letting go
"but the fans won't like it-" too bad ig
"but the company didn't allow it" since when does he need to ask anything
"oh but-" no.
You can say whatever you'd like. He doesn't care, he didn't ask
You got crazy privileges tho
First to hear the music (and have some dedicated to you), free tickets, any merch you'd like
Just say the word and what you want shall be yours
But when it comes to him as a person, you are even more privileged
You're the only one he answers the phone to
You get to see the side of him that doesn't shut up and is full of jokes
Domesticity like folding laundry together, you drying his hair after he gets out of the shower and him making you breakfast when you just woke up tho it's almost lunch time
SO many inner jokes
Sometimes you both just look at each other and are already trying not to laugh
Will never admit it but he still gets a little nervous every time you see him perform
Even after so much time, he still wants to impress you
One thing he loves is how you seem to just fit in into his life
You and the boys act like siblings
His parents seem at ease with you
His dog acts like he can't live without you
You just look like you belong
Late night talks also go crazy with this one
I swear, he always has the most ?? things to talk about
In the end, this is all about silent yet firm love, always there when you need it and everlasting
Masterlist | you'll probably like: pick me!BTS
Daily click
Reminder this is just fiction!! I'm not trying to portray real life and you shouldn't believe that this is how the members actually are. This is just for the vibe and the delulu!
summary • 𓂃𝜗𝜚 In the quiet of Yoongi’s birthday evening, sharing a secret bottle of whiskey leads to a late-night kiss that changes everything between you…
pairing • 𓂃𝜗𝜚 yoongixf!reader
word count • 𓂃𝜗𝜚 5.6k
elements • 𓂃𝜗𝜚 attraction; humour; birthday; friends to lovers; first kiss
author's note • 𓂃𝜗𝜚 Thank you to Anon for this request. I tried to get it done as soon as possible, but time constraints, life etc prevented that from happening. Anyway, I’ve finally managed to get it finished - sorry it's a bit late but I hope it is close to what you had in mind? 🥹 It's my first for Yoongi, so I was a little nervous to write this one but the idea was so cute I had to try! As ever, please excuse any errors I may have overlooked.
bts masterlist • 𓂃𝜗𝜚
Finally, the apartment is reaching a sort of quiet.
Music still drifts in low tones from the speaker in the corner, some mellow playlist Yoongi must have put on hours ago and forgotten about −but the loud laughter and overlapping conversations from earlier are gone and only now do you feel the air around you loosen and you can begin to breathe.
You lean back into the couch, nudging aside a few empty bottles and crumpled napkins as you stretch your legs across the coffee table.
“Your friends are messy,” you state.
From the kitchen, Min Yoongi snorts. “You were one of them.”
“I was the neatest one here.”
“That’s not impressive,” he replies, voice dry.
You watch him from the couch while he methodically rinses two glasses at the sink. His sleeves are rolled up, exposing his wrists, and the soft glow of the light above the counter makes the silver rings on his fingers glint when he moves.
You’ve known him long enough to recognize the way he’s relaxed now that everyone else is gone. His shoulders are lower, his movements slower and less guarded. When other people are around, Yoongi always carries a thin layer of alertness, discreetly monitoring the room, but when it’s just you, and the world has narrowed to just the two of you, he lets that drop.
Yoongi brings the glasses over and sets one down in front of you. “Last drink,” he says.
You glance at it. “Is that a rule?”
“It’s midnight.”
“That’s not how alcohol works.”
“It is in my apartment.”
You smile and pick the glass up anyway to take a small sip of the whiskey. It’s smooth and definitely not cheap.
You wrinkle your nose slightly. “You only bring this out on special occasions.”
“It’s my birthday,” he says flatly, settling into the armchair across from you. “I thought we could share the good stuff.”
You smile. “You do realise it’s officially not your birthday now, we’ve passed twelve.”
Yoongi leans back and for a moment you just look at him. You’ve seen him a thousand times at late-night studio sessions, lazy movie nights and grocery runs where he complains the entire time −the two of you sitting on opposite ends of the couch like this, talking about nothing for hours.
But tonight something feels ever so slightly different. Perhaps it’s the drinks, or the leftover warmth of the party −or maybe it’s just that birthdays have a way of making people pause and re-examine things they might usually ignore.
Yoongi catches you staring. “What.”
“You’re old now,” you tease.
He exhales through his nose. “You’ve told me that already.”
“Just making sure it sinks in.”
“Thanks, I appreciate the emotional support.”
You grin. “For someone who claims to hate birthdays, you seemed to be enjoying yourself earlier.”
“That’s because everyone was drinking my expensive alcohol.”
“So generous.”
“They’ll never see it again.”
You laugh, swirling the whiskey in your glass so the ice clinks the sides. “Your friends really love you, you know.”
Yoongi makes a noncommittal noise. “They love free food.”
“That too.”
A warmth descends on you, almost too warm, and you pull your sweater sleeves up slightly.
“Thanks for staying,” Yoongi says suddenly.
Your eyes flick back to him. “You say that like I had somewhere better to be.”
“You could’ve left with the others.”
“Why would I do that?”
He shrugs one shoulder. “I don’t know. People usually leave eventually.”
You tilt your head slightly. “Do you want me to leave?”
“No.”
The answer comes almost too abruptly, and Yoongi seems to realize that a second later. He clears his throat, glancing away toward the kitchen. “I mean−,” he starts, then stops.
You watch him struggle with the sentence for a moment before deciding to rescue him. “You like having me around,” you say.
“Don’t make it weird.”
“I’m not making it weird. I’m stating facts.”
He gives you a long look. “You’re very confident tonight.”
“I had two drinks.”
“The whole evening?” he asks incredulously.
You nod in confirmation.
Yoongi shakes his head in disbelief. “All this expensive stuff flowing and you’ve only had two drinks?”
“Careful,” you say, pointing your glass at him. “I might start recalling some of your embarrassing stories next.”
His eyes narrow slightly. “You wouldn’t.”
“Oh, I would.”
“Y/N.”
“Remember the time you fell asleep on the studio floor and Jungkook drew a moustache on your face−.”
“That never happened.”
“You still had the marker on your cheek when you woke up.”
“You’re lying.”
You grin wider. “You panicked when you saw yourself in the mirror.”
“I did not panic.”
“You absolutely did.”
Yoongi leans forward, looking at you with a mix of denial and resignation. “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”
“Your suffering brings me joy.”
“That explains our friendship.”
You giggle, and for a moment, neither of you says anything. Yoongi studies you across the table, his expression thoughtful, almost distant.
“What?” you ask.
“Nothing.”
“You’re staring,” he observes.
“I’m thinking.”
“That’s worse.”
He huffs quietly. “You talk a lot.”
“You like that about me.”
“I tolerate it.”
“You’d miss it.”
“I’d enjoy the silence.”
You raise an eyebrow. “Then why do you keep inviting me over?”
Yoongi doesn’t answer right away. Instead, he reaches for his glass and takes a slow sip, eyes still on you over the rim. The look lingers just a second longer than usual before he sets the glass down.
“You’re easy,” he says.
Your eyes widen. “That sounds insulting.”
“I don’t mean it like that.”
“How do you mean it?”
He leans back again, head tilting slightly as he searches for the words. “You don’t expect things,” he says finally.
“Like what?”
“I don’t know.” He gestures vaguely. “−Energy, attention, constant conversation.”
You stare at him. “You literally just complained that I talk too much.”
“That’s different.”
“How.”
“You talk,” he says, “but you’re not… demanding.”
He says it carefully, as if trying not to offend.
You think about that for a moment. “So I’m low maintenance.”
“Yes.”
“That’s your birthday compliment to me?”
“It’s a good thing.”
You smirk. “Wow. I feel cherished.”
He rolls his eyes slightly, but there’s the faintest hint of a smile pulling at his mouth. “You know what I mean.”
You do, because you’ve always understood Yoongi in ways most people don’t. The quiet parts, the pauses, and the things he doesn’t say.
Your gaze drifts to the small cake box sitting forgotten on the counter. “Did you even get to try your birthday cake?”
He follows your gaze. “Oh.”
“That’s a no then.”
“I forgot.”
“How do you forget your own cake?”
“There were like twelve people here.”
“You’re unbelievable.”
You set your glass down and push yourself off the couch, walking to the kitchen. The floor is cool under your feet as you grab two forks from the drawer and bring the small cake box back to the coffee table.
Yoongi watches you the whole time. “You’re very bossy tonight,” he says.
“You’re welcome.”
You open the box. Inside is a slightly lopsided chocolate cake with a crooked candle still stuck into the centre.
You glance at him. “You didn’t even blow it out.”
“Everyone started singing and I got distracted.”
“You got embarrassed.”
“I didn’t.”
“You did.”
He rubs the back of his neck. “It was loud.”
You laugh softly and push the cake box toward him. “Fine, birthday boy −do it properly.”
“It’s already melted.”
“The wax isn’t in it.”
“You checked?”
“Just blow out the candle, Yoongi.”
He sighs like this is the most exhausting task anyone has ever given him, but he leans forward anyway. The small flame flickers when he exhales and darkness swallows it instantly. For a second the two of you just sit there as the faint smell of smoke curls upward.
You hand him a fork. “Well,” you say. “Happy birthday.”
He looks at the cake, then at you, then back at the cake. “You’re not going to sing again, are you.”
You bite your lip and smile slowly. “Don’t tempt me.”
He points the fork at you. “If you start singing, I’m kicking you out.”
“You’d miss me.”
He huffs quietly. “Probably.”
It’s so quiet you almost miss it, but you hear it and something comforting spreads in your chest. You take a bite of the cake before he can protest.
“Hey!” he says with mock offence.
“You were taking too long.”
“You just stole my first birthday bite.”
“You hesitated.”
“You’re impossible.”
You hold the fork out toward him. “Fine, here.”
Amusement flickers across his face, along with something you haven’t seen before. It’s soft and precious.
He moves his head forward and takes the bite. Your hand stays there a moment longer than it needs to, but neither one of you comments on it −but when Yoongi leans back again, his gaze lingers on you just a little too long, and the atmosphere in the room has changed somehow.
The cake is better than you expected.
It isn’t fancy, more like something someone grabbed from a bakery on the way over, yet it tastes rich enough that the chocolate sticks to the roof of your mouth. You take another bite while Yoongi watches with mild suspicion, as if he’s not entirely convinced you won’t eat the entire thing.
You take a third bite before passing him the fork, and he cuts a piece for himself this time. The vibe has settled into that comfortable late-night quiet where everything seems softer at the edges like a vignette.
The remains of the party linger everywhere in the dim lighting; empty glasses, a jacket someone forgot draped over a chair, and even a stray gold balloon sagging against the wall.
Your leg grazes against Yoongi’s under the coffee table, reminding you how close he is to you. It’s happened multiple times before, except this time a strange feeling seeps into you at the contact.
Yoongi takes another bite of cake, resting into the cushions of the armchair with a sigh. His hair has fallen into his eyes, slightly mussed from where he’s run his hand through it throughout the evening. He looks tired but content, and you’ve always liked this version of him best.
“You survived your birthday,” you say eventually.
He glances up. “Barely.”
“Everyone seemed happy to see you.”
“That’s because they only see me occasionally.”
“Don’t pretend you weren’t smiling earlier.”
“I smile sometimes.”
“You smiled at Jimin’s story about the couch.”
“That was because he exaggerated it.”
“You did fall off the couch.”
“I slid off.”
“You fell.”
Yoongi sighs quietly, like he’s already losing the argument and knows it. “You remember everything.”
“Someone has to.”
He studies you for a moment thoughtfully. You’ve noticed that about him over the years, how observant he is when he thinks no one’s paying attention. Small things rarely escape him, and sometimes you wonder what he notices about you.
You reach for your glass again, the ice long since melted into the whiskey. “You’re quiet,” you say.
“So are you.”
“That’s suspicious.”
He shrugs slightly, gaze drifting around the apartment as if seeing it for the first time tonight. “I was thinking.”
“About?”
“How lively it was earlier.”
“That’s pretty normal for a birthday.”
“I don’t usually have people over like that.”
That part is true. Yoongi’s not antisocial exactly, but he guards his space carefully. The fact that he opened his apartment to a room full of friends tonight probably took more effort than he let on.
Your eyes wander toward the kitchen counter again. “You got a lot of gifts.”
“Mm.”
“You didn’t even open most of them.”
“I will later.”
“You say that every year.”
“And I always open them eventually.”
You smile faintly. There’s something endearing about the way he treats birthdays, as if he were slightly baffled by the whole ritual of it.
You watch as he turns his empty glass slowly between his hands, the movement drawing your attention to his fingers. Long, precise fingers with small silver rings that catch the light when he moves.
“You’re staring at me again,” Yoongi says without looking up.
“Am not.”
“You are.”
“I was thinking.”
He finally looks up. “About my hands?”
You immediately feel heat rise to your face. “You’re insufferable.”
He huffs softly, something close to a laugh, and the sound changes the atmosphere in the room, loosening something between you. You reach forward and slide the cake box slightly closer to him.
“Finish it,” you say.
“I’m not eating that whole thing.”
“You’re the birthday boy.”
“That doesn’t mean I want a stomach ache.”
“Coward.”
“You eat it then.”
“I might.”
The music in the background shifts to a slow song that melts into the air. Suddenly your senses feel heightened, aware of how Yoongi’s eyes linger when you move, and the way your foot is still touching his.
You pull your leg back slightly, and the loss of contact is immediate. You don’t look at him when you do it, but you notice the faint way his ankle shifts afterward as if he had noticed too.
Your throat feels suddenly dry −it was probably the whiskey.
“You’re thirty now,” you say.
He groans softly. “Don’t start.”
“I’m just acknowledging reality.”
“You’ve been acknowledging it all night.”
“It’s a milestone.”
“It’s a number.”
“You’re reflective now,” you tease.
“I was reflective before.”
“Were you?”
He glances at you again, and something about the look makes your stomach tighten slightly. “I think about things,” he says quietly.
“I know.”
Yoongi lives in his head more than most people realize. The songs, the late nights, the way he sometimes disappears into silence mid-conversation because a thought has pulled him somewhere else.
Right now though, his attention seems very firmly on you, and it’s strange how noticeable that feels.
You sit up slightly, the question slipping out before you can stop it. “What are you thinking about right now?”
“Us,” he says eventually.
Your stomach flips unexpectedly. “Us?”
“Our friendship.”
You relax slightly, though something still hums under your ribs. “What about it?”
He shrugs. “We’ve known each other a long time.”
“Seven years.”
“Seven,” he repeats quietly.
The number sits between you. You remember the first time you met him, how quiet he was, how difficult it was to tell if he liked you at all. Over time that distance had melted into something steady and reliable. Yoongi has always been one of the most consistent people in your life.
You smile faintly. “You didn’t like me at first.”
“That’s not true.”
“You ignored me for three hours.”
“I was observing.”
“You were avoiding conversation.”
“I was tired.”
“You were rude.”
“I warmed up eventually.”
“You tolerated me.”
“That’s basically affection.”
You laugh quietly, the tension easing a little −but Yoongi doesn’t look away this time. His eyes stay on you, and there’s something in them you can’t quite figure out. Something quieter than flirting, deeper than casual.
The heat of the whiskey spreads slowly through your chest, and you realise just how late it is. Yoongi’s fingers stop moving on the glass, and for a second his gaze drops to the floor before lifting back to you. Your pulse feels louder in your ears.
“I’m glad you’re here,” he says. “You always−.”
You frown faintly. “I always what?”
“Stay.”
The way he says it makes something in your chest tighten because the moment doesn’t feel casual anymore. It feels like the edge of something, and for the first time tonight, you’re not entirely sure which direction the night is going to tip.
Yoongi focuses on you intently, fingers laced together, the empty glass dangling forgotten from one hand.
Your heartbeat feels louder than it should and you reach for the cake box again, mostly so your hands have something to do. The fork presses into the soft chocolate, leaving a clean line through the frosting. The motion feels strangely loud in the silence.
“You should put this in the fridge,” you murmur eventually.
“Later.”
Everything with him is later. Emails later, sleep later, cleaning later −the man could delay the end of the world if it inconvenienced his schedule.
You set the fork down again and the music shifts to another slow track, heavier on piano. The bass hums softly through the floorboards and Yoongi’s foot taps once in quiet rhythm.
You shift slightly on the couch. “You must be exhausted.”
His head tilts. “Not really.”
“You’ve been awake since early this morning.”
“Birthdays are chaotic.”
“That’s a diplomatic way of saying people invaded your apartment.”
A faint smirk touches his mouth. “They meant well.”
“You sound unconvinced.”
He shrugs a little, stretching one leg out further and his foot touches the side of your foot accidentally again. The contact is brief, but it sends a strange little spark up your leg anyway.
“Do you ever think about how weird it is we’re still friends?” you say after a while.
Yoongi’s eyebrow lifts. “That’s an odd question.”
“Seven years is a long time.”
“It happens.”
“With you?” You glance at him. “You’re not exactly easy to befriend.”
“That’s slander.”
“It’s accuracy.”
He exhales quietly through his nose, clearly amused despite himself.
Your eyes drift over him again. The loose hoodie, relaxed posture and the softness in his expression that only shows up when he’s completely comfortable. You realize that you don’t see this side of him as often anymore. Fame and schedules and constant noise have taken more of his time in recent years.
But tonight feels like earlier days again, more personal.
“What are you analysing now?” Yoongi asks, catching your eye.
You hesitate. “Just thinking.”
“That could be trouble.”
You ignore the comment. “You’ve changed,” you say slowly.
His expression doesn’t shift much, but you see the subtle alertness return. “How.”
“You’re more patient.”
“That’s because I’m older.”
“You’re less guarded.”
He studies you carefully at that. “That’s debatable.”
“Not with me.”
“You’re still observant,” he says, his thumb absently rubs the edge of one silver ring, a habit he has when he’s thinking.
“You trust me, don’t you?”
“I do.”
The simplicity of the answer makes your chest tighten slightly. “I trust you too.”
Yoongi suddenly stands, stretching his arms above his head, hoodie lifting just enough to reveal a glimpse of pale skin at his waist before falling back into place. You try not to notice, but your brain fails immediately.
He walks toward the kitchen. “Water,” he says over his shoulder, as if explaining his sudden movement.
You nod even though he isn’t looking. The sound of the tap running fills the apartment briefly. When he returns he carries two glasses, setting one in front of you. He sits down beside you on the couch instead of returning to the armchair.
That’s new. You sip the water to give yourself something to do.
“You remember the first time you came over here?” Yoongi asks.
Your eyebrows lift. “This apartment?”
“Yeah.”
You think for a moment. “You had just moved in.”
“And you criticized the furniture.”
“It was ugly.”
“It was practical.”
“You had a single chair.”
“I still have it.”
“You’re sitting in it earlier.”
He glances sideways at you. “You stayed late that night too.”
You smile faintly. “I remember you falling asleep mid-conversation.”
“That was intentional.”
You glance at him, and he’s already looking at you. Your pulse kicks unexpectedly as something unspoken flickers between you −something that has existed quietly for a long time finally being acknowledged.
“Now you’re staring,” you whisper.
His lips twitch slightly. “You started it earlier.”
You concede graciously with a nod as Yoongi studies your expression. “You’re nervous,” he states.
“I’m not.”
“You just took three sips of water in ten seconds.”
You glance at the glass and realise he’s right. You set it down quickly. “That proves nothing.”
“It proves everything.”
Your eyes narrow at him, but the challenge in his gaze is unmistakable now. Your heart thuds harder.
“Yoongi,” you say quietly.
He doesn’t look away and the electricity in the air around you crackles with a sudden anticipation. You suddenly realize that you are very aware of his breathing, he hasn’t looked away since you said his name.
There’s something thoughtful in his expression, but there’s also a faint hesitation that you rarely see from him. Yoongi is normally someone who decides things quickly once his mind is made up, but when he pauses like this, it means he is weighing something carefully.
“What?” you ask quietly after a moment.
Yoongi’s arm settles along the backrest behind you, not quite touching your shoulder, changing the space between you immediately.
“You’ve been overthinking something all night,” he says.
“I could say the same about you.”
“That’s normal for me.”
“That’s fair.”
“You asked earlier why I was thinking about our friendship,” he continues.
“Yes,” you say carefully.
“I didn’t answer properly.”
A quiet tension gathers in your chest. “You said we’ve known each other a long time.”
“That was the safe answer.”
You let out a soft breath. “And the real one?”
Yoongi’s gaze drops briefly to your hands where they rest loosely in your lap. His fingers move slightly against the back of the couch, brushing the fabric once before becoming still again. When he speaks again, his voice is calm, but there’s a noticeable seriousness underneath it.
“I was thinking about the fact that you’re the person who always stays,” he explains.
You feel your stomach tighten slightly. “You already said that.”
“I know.” He pauses, choosing his words more carefully now. “But I didn’t explain what I meant.”
You don’t interrupt him. Something tells you that if you do, he might abandon the thought entirely.
Yoongi shifts slightly so he’s turned toward you more fully now. The movement is small, but it places you closer together, the side of his knee almost touching yours. “People come and go a lot in my life,” he says. “Schedules change, work gets intense and sometimes friendships fade without anyone meaning for them to.”
His tone is matter-of-fact, but you can hear the truth behind it. You’ve seen it happen around him for years.
“But you don’t disappear,” he continues. “You show up even when I’m busy. You sit around while I’m working. You complain about my furniture and steal my food.”
You smile faintly. “That last one is your fault for leaving it unattended.”
“My point is that most people don’t do that for seven years.”
The quiet sincerity in his voice makes it difficult to joke this time. “You make it sound like a loyalty contract.”
“It isn’t.”
“Then what is it?”
Yoongi exhales slowly. When you glance back up, his eyes are on you again. “Important,” he says simply.
You’ve always known that you and Yoongi were close, it’s never been something either of you needed to define out loud −but hearing him say it like this has you feeling something stir deep inside you.
“You’re important to me too.”
“I know.”
“You do?”
He nods once. “You wouldn’t still be here if I wasn’t.”
“That’s a confident assumption.”
“You could have left hours ago.”
“But I didn’t.”
“Exactly.”
Your pulse begins to pick up slightly, and you try to focus on the calm rhythm of the music behind you instead of the warmth spreading slowly up your leg where it touches his.
“You’re overthinking again,” he says.
You huff softly. “You’re the one who started a serious conversation at midnight −and now you’re judging my reaction.”
“I’m observing it.”
You roll your eyes, but the tension between you doesn’t disappear. If anything, the light teasing only makes the awareness sharper. Yoongi’s hand shifts along the back of the couch, his fingers grazing your shoulder.
Your breath catches slightly and Yoongi’s voice lowers just a little when he speaks again. “You’re definitely nervous.”
“I’m not nervous.”
“You’re avoiding eye contact.”
You force yourself to look directly at him. “Happy?”
“Not yet.”
“Why not?”
He tilts his head slightly, studying you again with that calm intensity that has always made it difficult to hide anything from him. “Because you’re pretending this feels normal.”
Your stomach flips. “Maybe it is normal.”
“You’re a terrible liar.”
You open your mouth to argue, but nothing comes out −because he’s right. Yoongi watches the realization settle across your face and leans a little closer.
Your heart stumbles.
Yoongi’s expression changes slightly as if he’s remembered something. “Wait here,” he says.
You raise an eyebrow. “Where exactly do you think I’m going?”
He doesn’t answer, disappearing instead toward the kitchen. You hear the low creak of a cabinet opening, followed by the soft clink of glass. Curiosity pulls you halfway up from the couch so you can glance toward the kitchen. Yoongi is standing with his back to you, one arm reaching into the highest shelf above the counter, the one he rarely uses.
When he turns around again, he’s holding a dark glass bottle you’ve never seen before. The label is minimal and elegant, the kind of bottle people keep for years before opening.
Yoongi returns to the couch and sets the bottle on the coffee table with a careful kind of respect, then reaches for two clean glasses from the shelf underneath.
“You’ve been hiding this,” you accuse.
“Saving it,” he corrects calmly.
“For what?”
He twists the cap slowly, the quiet crack of the seal breaking sounding oddly loud in the quiet apartment.
“A good night.”
The amber liquid catches the light as he pours a small amount into each glass. The smell alone is richer than the whiskey you had earlier; deeper, almost smoky.
You watch him with narrowed eyes. “You didn’t bring this out for everyone else.”
“No.”
Your suspicion grows. “That feels suspiciously intentional.”
Yoongi hands you one of the glasses and you take it. “It is,” he admits.
You stare at him for a moment, trying to figure out if he’s joking, but his expression remains calm in that quiet way he gets when he’s made up his mind about something.
You glance down at the glass. “This must be expensive.”
“It was a gift.”
“That’s not what I asked.”
“You’re not paying for it, so stop worrying.”
You bring the glass closer, letting the scent rise for a moment before taking a careful sip. The flavour is smooth enough that the warmth spreads slowly instead of burning, settling comfortably in your chest.
You look at him again. “Okay, yeah. That’s good.”
Yoongi nods once, clearly pleased with your reaction. He lifts his glass slightly in your direction. “Happy birthday to me,” he says dryly.
You smile and tap your glass lightly against his. “And to questionable decision-making.”
His eyebrow lifts. “Oh?”
“Opening your secret whiskey stash with me.”
Yoongi considers that for a moment before taking a slow sip. “That might actually be the best decision I’ve made all night.”
Yoongi sets his glass down after another sip, his gaze lingering on you a little longer this time.
“Can I ask you something?” he says. You nod slowly. “Have you ever thought about us differently?”
The question hangs in the air between you and for a second your brain refuses to process it. “Differently how?”
His gaze doesn’t waver. “You know what I mean.”
You do. That’s the problem.
You swallow slowly, your mind racing through years of small moments that suddenly feel more significant than they did before. Late nights like this, the comfortable silences, the way he always seems to notice when you’re upset before anyone else does, and the quiet ways he makes space for you in his life. You hadn’t labelled any of it before because you were afraid of what that label might mean.
Your voice is barely above a whisper when you answer. “Sometimes.”
“That’s honest.”
“You asked for honesty.”
He nods once, his hand moving again now. This time it doesn’t stop at your shoulder, his fingers sliding lightly along your sleeve until they reach your wrist. The warmth of his hand wraps gently around you and a smile appears at the corner of his mouth.
“Definitely nervous,” he murmurs.
You give him a look. “This is your fault.”
“I’m okay with that.”
Yoongi’s thumb shifts slightly against your wrist. He leans closer, slow enough that you see it coming. You don’t stop him. Your breath mixes with his in the small space between you. Up close you notice things you’ve somehow ignored for years, like the faint scent of whiskey still lingering and the softness in his eyes when he’s looking at you this carefully.
“I’ve wanted to do this for a while.”
Your heart stutters. “You chose your birthday to confess that?”
“It seemed memorable.”
You laugh softly, the sound barely escaping before his other hand lifts gently to your jaw, his touch warm on your skin.
And then he kisses you.
Yoongi kisses the way he does most things. Carefully at first, testing the moment, making sure it’s real before committing to it. His lips move slowly against yours, warm and deliberate, and the tension that has been building all night finally releases in a rush that makes your head spin.
Your hand instinctively finds the front of his hoodie, gripping the fabric lightly, and that seems to be all the confirmation he needs as the kiss deepens, still unhurried but more certain now. His hand slides from your wrist to your waist, drawing you a little closer against him.
For a while after the kiss, neither of you says anything, both of you slightly breathless. Yoongi hasn’t moved very far away from you, and your hand still rests against the front of his hoodie where you grabbed it earlier. Only when you notice do you slowly release the fabric.
“Well,” he says quietly after a moment, his voice slightly rougher than before. “That happened.”
You let out a short breath that turns into a nervous laugh. “That’s one way to acknowledge it.”
He tilts his head slightly, studying your face as if making sure you’re okay. “Too much?” he asks.
The question surprises you. Yoongi rarely asks for reassurance out loud; he usually just observes until he’s certain.
You shake your head quickly. “No. I just−” You trail off, searching for the right way to say it. “I didn’t expect that tonight.”
His mouth curves faintly. “Neither did I. Not exactly like that.”
You raise an eyebrow. “So you were expecting something?”
“I was thinking about it,” he admits.
That doesn’t shock you nearly as much as it probably should. If anything, it explains the quiet intensity in his behaviour all evening, and the way his attention seemed to stay fixed on you even when the apartment had been full of people.
The quiet stretches again before Yoongi leans in again, taking your face in his hands. “Can I do that again?” he asks.
You nod before your brain can overthink it, and he kisses you again. The hesitation is gone now. Yoongi’s hand slides more confidently to your waist as he pulls you closer, and the warmth of him settles around you in a way that feels strangely familiar despite the newness of the moment.
Your fingers slip into the fabric of his hoodie again, anchoring yourself there as you pull back. Yoongi exhales quietly.
“Well,” he murmurs. “That answers that question.”
“What question?” you ask, looking up at him.
He nods towards the half-empty whiskey glasses on the table. “Whether opening that bottle tonight was a good idea.”
You laugh softly. “And?”
He studies your face for a moment before answering. “Best birthday I’ve had in a long time.”
And judging by the way his hand stays warm against your waist, neither of you seems in any hurry for the night to end. You study his face, noticing the faint flush in his cheeks that probably isn’t just from the whiskey.
“Your standards might be dropping with age.”
He exhales a quiet laugh, the sound rumbling softly in his chest. “Or maybe my priorities are improving.”
“That sounds suspiciously sentimental.”
“Don’t get used to it.”
You smile, but you don’t move away either. Instead you lean into him, liking the way his arm slides more comfortably around your shoulders.
Yoongi glances down at you after a moment. “You realize,” he says thoughtfully, “−That this is going to complicate things.”
“Complicate how?”
He considers the question, his thumb absently tracing a slow circle against your arm. “I’m probably going to want to kiss you again.”
“That sounds like a manageable problem.”
Yoongi hums softly, clearly agreeing.
Somewhere between the expensive whiskey, the quiet conversation, and the first kiss you’ve shared in seven years, Yoongi’s birthday has turned into the beginning of something neither of you had planned, and neither of you seem interested in stopping.
be his peace - a min yoongi drabble
pairing: boyfriend!yoongi x fem!reader
genre: est. relationship
warnings/tags: "would you love me if i was a bug?" trend lol, fluff
wc: 317
notes: because i'm not gonna be done with the oneshots i've been working on and this has been sitting in my drafts for a while.
Your boyfriend is sitting on the couch with his laptop, headphones on, working quietly. You just woke up from a nap and you’re feeling energized and touch starved (even though the reason for your nap was because he fucked you to sleep). Really, you just crave his attention. And what better way to get it than by asking him a ridiculous question. Wearing your blanket like a cape, you shuffle over to him, and once your knee hits the cushion, he pushes off one side of his headphones.
“Yoon?”
“Hm?” he hums, still locked on his laptop.
“Would you love me if I was a bug?”
He doesn’t look at you or respond, but a slight pinch between his brows appears. You poke him in the thigh. “Yoon, did you hear me?”
“I heard you, I’m just trying to figure out what the fuck kind of question that is.”
You giggle, collapsing against his shoulder.
“Would you love me if I was a bug?” You repeat, as if it’s a very important and logical thing to know.
His fingers lift from the keyboard, flexing. “What… kind of bug?”
Jaw dropping, you get up on your knees to confront him. “What do you mean ‘what kind of bug?’ It’s a yes or no question!”
“Like a spider or a moth I could handle, but a roach? Nah, I’d have to squish you. Sorry, babe.”
“What about a worm?” He shakes his head in disgust.
“I’d leave you outside.”
“Hey! Our love is supposed to be unconditional.”
“If you one day turned into a bug, there would have to be conditions!”
You guess he has a point there. Sighing, you flop back down with your head back on his shoulder, ready to watch him work.
“Would you love me if I was a bug?” he asks after a minute or so of typing.
You grin. “No.”
“Aye!” He tosses his laptop to the side and lunges for you but you’re already off the couch and running away, shrieking in laughter. “Come here!”
.
.
.
shortest thing i've ever written lol hope you enjoyed!!
synopsis: A summer storm leaves you wide awake in bed with Yoongi.
[requested]
warnings: mdni, 18+, pwp, bf! Yoongi, f! reader, fools in love, smut, mentions of multiple orgasms (f. rec), praise, cock drunk! reader, drool mentioned, Yoongi big, riding, creampie, dirty talk, unprotected smut, smidge cum eating, mention of edging (m. rec), size difference, etc
WC: 1.8K +
[BE VERY AWARE, SMUT BELOW THE 'KEEP READING' TAG]
You can't breathe; your lungs shudder with the effort, and your head falls back into the pillows just as the thunder rumbles, followed by a flash of lightning outside the window to your left.
It's raining heavily outside, and your entire apartment is covered in a shroud of black because the electricity had gone out two hours ago. You should be asleep like almost everyone else is right now because of it, but instead, you're crying out, clawing at your bedsheets as Yoongi grips your thighs tighter, keeping you still as he groans lowly between your legs.
He's been teasing your sloppy cunt for ages, driving you crazy with his fat tip against your clit, and you're soaking, dripping profusely, pathetically so.
All night he'd been playing with you, pulling orgasm after orgasm from your pretty pussy, and you felt stupid. You'd cum on his tongue, his fingers, and, to the delight of him, just on the tip of his plump cock.
You were a mess, sticky with your slick and his gooey precum, and through your glossy eyes, you could just make out his smirk as your cunt quivered in your latest orgasm. Unabashedly, he dragged his fingers through your puffy folds, swirling the gluey cream onto his fingers before popping them into his mouth with a wolfish grin, savoring the way you two tasted together with a hum, and it made your jaw drop.
Your pussy throbbed needily, and another boom of thunder resonated through the room, drowning out your gasps for a moment. "Yoongi - hic - please," You hiccuped, your eyelashes wet with tears as he kept one of your knees up to your chest. His hand was digging into your soft flesh as he rolled his hips forward slowly, languidly dragging his shaft through your swollen folds again.
You watch him pretend to think about it, his eyebrows furrowing as he glides his hefty cock through your sodden slit, and his mouth feels dry with the way you whine from the back of your throat. Your cunt's frothed with the mixture of his creamy seed and your cum, and it's hypnotizing watching it seep down to your ass and onto the bed underneath you. Still, he's got enough restraint to move his tongue that was stuck stupidly to the roof of his mouth to rasp out a, "you- hah - you think you can take all of me now, pretty?"
It was no secret that Yoongi was big, the biggest. He was thick and plump in girth with a curve that made your mouth salivate, and you'd been begging for him to let you feel it, all of it, but the most Yoongi ever did was give you his tip, letting your entrance stretch taut around the rotund, globular head. It was deliriously delicious, the sting of just that, and the way he'd edge himself in and out, in and out, until you shook underneath him, cumming with a blubbering cry. He'd coo, praising you while circling fat and slow swirls on your pulsing clit with his thumb, but you wanted more.
"More? You're telling me you want more, Baby." Fuck, you didn't know you said that out loud, but Yoongi's dark eyes lowered, and before you could blink, he had you switching positions, forcing your quivering legs to straddle his hips as your cute cunt hovered over his plump tip. "Show me how much more you want."
And you can't help yourself - the invitation too enticing as your fingers dig into his chest, your hips swivel, tilting down, down, down. Your chest heaves, your glossy lips part, and Yoongi gets a front row seat to the lewd expression as your eyes roll back at the feeling of sinking your pretty cunt down his cock inch by mouth-watering inch.
You only get half-way before Yoongi's hips are lifting, rocking up and down in taunting rolls, leaving your ears ringing as he moves underneath you. "Y'know you're not gonna fit it all, if you don't relax - c'mon, Baby, thought you wanted more?" He accompanies each word with an addictive thump, thumping open your gummy walls, bullying his cock in deeper, and your head lolls backwards from the stretch.
"I'm - Oh! Oh!" You're hiccuping out a sob. This was ridiculous; he was so thick and long you couldn't think, you couldn't breathe. And that's exactly how Yoongi liked you: feverish, needy, and cockdrunk. You're barely able to take it, alternating between dragging your drooling cunt up and then back down, swallowing a bit more of his length with each filthy slurp of your pretty pussy and swiveling your hips to feel the way his tip stirred your insides, stretching you wide open.
Yoongi is barely any better than how you feel. His dark eyebrows are knitting together like he was in pain, his hooded eyes zeroed in on the way your pussy was stretched around him, taking him so slowly up and down. You feel so good, snugly wrapped around him; he feels like he might pass out, but he knows you can take more of him, and he says as much. "C'mon, c'mon, Baby - that's it, doin' so good for me. You feel so good." The smile he gives you is dazzling, almost making you lose your footing, and your velvety walls squeeze him tighter in response. "You like that, huh? That's what you've been beggin' for, right? Too be filled, stuffed to the brim?"
Clearly, you're not the only one feeling cotton fill inside your head. Yoongi's eyes are shiny, glossy like the slick that drips down his shaft that's not inside you, and he moves his hand to your mound, displaying his fingers over your body as his thumb finds your clit. He thumbs the sensitive bundle of nerves, rubbing swift circles, and your pussy weeps in pleasure.
"Wait! Yoon- Yoongi!" Each completed swab has you sinking lower, and your hands scramble to press against his chest.
"No, no, don't run - Don't get shy now." His hands grab your waist, keeping your shivering hips still before pulling you down at the same time he pushes his hips up. He doesn't stop until your pretty ass meets his hips, and the tip of his cock knocks into the back of your cunt, stuffing you to the brim.
Your gummy walls spasm around his length, massaging the zig-zag veins that run down his shaft, and you're absolutely ruined in the best way possible.
Your jaw hangs, your eyes cross, and your hands mindlessly map down Yoongi's chest, trying to find an anchor to keep you steady as Yoongi gives you barely a moment to adjust. "Oh! You're so big!" You slur stupidly, and Yoongi's vision swims from the fact that you look so far gone off of him, and the fact that your pussy's taken him all the way down to the hilt. His heavy balls press against your ass as proof, and you twitch adorably on top of him.
Your weepy cunt gives a shuddering pulse, and both Yoongi and you moan as your thighs tremble to pick yourself up. Your pussy slurps lewdly, sucking him tightly until he's about half-way out before you thwack your hips back down, stuffing yourself silly and making both of you gasp as his swollen cock bumps filthily into the back of your cunt, marking it with a few wads of his gooey precum.
You were so fucking pretty, swiveling your hips up and down in such a cadence, mindlessly fucking yourself onto his cock. Yoongi's jaw unlocks into a rambling stupor. He's full of praise, his tongue wetting his dry lips as his swirling dark eyes are fixated on you, your pretty pussy that was molding to his cock, your tits bouncing with each smack, and your fucked-out expression.
"That's it, take what you want - you're so beautiful - fuck! Just like that- you're milking my entire fuckin' cock, Baby."
You're gorgeous, and Yoongi's ears roar with his own heartbeat, drowning out the storm outside as he pulls you down for a sloppy kiss. His tongue licks over yours, swallowing your wrecked moans, and his arms wrap around your back, keeping you tucked into his chest.
He takes over control, locking you into the kiss as his feet plant onto the bed, and his hips buck up meanly to fill you deeper. The new angle has his curved cock punching out noises even you didn't know you could make, and you're pinned, taking each whack of his hips upwards as he sucks on your bottom lip, pussydrunk.
The familiar pooling of heat in your abdomen grows hotter with each thud of his hefty cock drilling into your sopping core, and you're unable to stop the drool that forms at the corner of your lip. You're gonna cum, and both of you know it because you're squeezing the life out of him. Your silky walls are throbbing in addictive pulses, making Yoongi pick up the pace.
"You gonna cum again, Pretty?" He rasps, and your whines hiccup pathetically. Your arms are pinned between you and his chest as he keeps his arms wrapped around your back, so you're left to nod dumbly in response. "What does that make it? Four? Heh, four orgasms to get you stuffed with my cock just how you wanted. Fuck, you did so good for me, and now I want to feel ya cum for me one more time, Pretty."
Yoongi's praise caressed over you, and like your body was waiting for it, your orgasm washed over you like a strike of lightning. Your vision whitened, your muscles tensed, and your moan resonated over the rumble of thunder outside your window.
You gushed with your mouth open in a silent scream, squeezing Yoongi's cock in waves that had him stuttering in tempo. "That's it, let it all out for me." He praised, and you rolled your hips back to meet each one of his nasty thrusts in response. He fucked you through your high, kneading your hips and ass before it was his turn to fall off the deep end.
When he came, he held you close, keeping you stuffed to the brim as his head fell back into the pillows with a low groan. His cock twitched, spilling his seed deep inside your quivering pussy, and your lips kissed along his collarbone as your clock on your bedside flashed 00:00; the electricity was back on.
You felt boneless as Yoongi, and you tried to regulate your breathing, and it was then that you noticed the thunder had stopped, leaving a soft rain in its wake. "C'mon, my love, let's take a shower, hmm?" Yoongi's voice was soft as he danced his fingers down your back, and your cheeks flushed as you tilted your head up to meet his eyes.
"I think you might need to carry me," You confessed, and Yoongi's grin was nothing but amused as he smirked at you.
"Yeah? Don't worry, I'll take care of ya."
대박 - you made it to the end!
Tell me about it. Reblogs, likes, and comments are always appreciated ♡ . Tumblr is based on reblogs, not likes, and they help writers like me get a better reach. Thank you for your support!
