✎ 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: angsty introspections, smut, fluff (kinda), more arirang song references, oral (f. receiving), penetrative sex, edging!, implied nipple stimulation leading to orgasm, exhibitionist kink (if you squint), mc being dense af, yoongi being dense af, miscommunication or lack of?, denial isn’t just a river in Egypt, Madrid OH Madrid
✎ ˎˊ˗ Word count: 7k
✎ ˎˊ˗ Betaread by: Aqua (this is for you!), Tea, and Catie
✎ ˎˊ˗ Playlist by @angellekookie
✎ ˎˊ˗ Notes: Since you really wanted it...💜 I had to split up the original chapter bec it was getting to 14k it didn't want to end. But the good news is the next chapter is about 80% done atp. Please let me know what you think and enjoy. Taglist to follow because I need to clock in for work in a few minutes. And sorry in advance if I don't get to tag everybody, but I will try! <3
Series Masterlist | Masterlist
You don’t really do casual. Or fuck buddies. Or situationships.
There’s a first time for everything.
Because this is where you currently stand with one Min Yoongi.
Your last real relationship was four years ago. After that, it’s just been a string of dates that never really turned into anything.
The plan was simple: focus on yourself, your career, travel the world.
This was not in the plan.
At least your career is thriving. And you are traveling the world. And maybe that’s how you justify it.
Because somehow, you start to understand why Tiff and Bina and Angel agreed to something like this with the other boys. The work is stressful, the hours are insane, and this arrangement takes the edge off in a way nothing else really does. There’s something about being in the same place at the same time a little too often that makes whatever this is with Yoongi… convenient. Easy.
That’s why it works. Theoretically.
You’re focusing on yourself. Your well-being. And if that well-being happens to come in the form of a chemical-induced haze on the regular—dopamine, not drugs—then so be it.
There’s an easy, unspoken rhythm to it now. Between rehearsals, Yoongi glances at you from across the room. A tilt of his head. You follow. In the evening, a text from him. Midnight. Sometimes as late as 2 or 3 a.m. when he’s still buzzing from adrenaline or when he can’t quite figure a track out. You’re out the door and into his lap.
It’s always him. You don’t really initiate. You don’t have to. Not when he seeks you out first and gives it to you all night.
⊙⊝⊜
Yoongi is a generous lover. This to say, he is a munch.
Now you get why he sings about giving good head every chance he gets. That tongue technology. Feeling the high waves coming. That salt in his tongue. Yeah, that’s your salt on his tongue.
Yoongi knows what to do to make your toes curl. How to pull pleasure out of you like no lover has before. Maybe it’s because of the secrecy, the risk. It heightens everything. Mostly you know it’s him. He’s clocked the hours to up his dick game. There are times you’re bothered by it. There are times you don’t care.
He’s mapped the places in your body that fall apart with his touch. Makes sure he does it again. And again. That’s what keeps you coming back for more.
The part that always gets you though is that brief moment of clarity after the act. The way he pulls you in after like it’s the right thing to do. You know it’s bare minimum. It doesn’t mean anything at all.
But for that stretch of time, danger looms. When your brain conjures a different version of you and him. A version where you’re allowed to ask questions like why he cut his hair. Why he doesn’t eat more. How his cat is doing. Why he keeps pressing on his shoulder like that-Is his past injury bothering him again? Is he gonna do another marathon?
You swallow all of it down. Because those aren’t your questions to ask. They belong to the people Yoongi loves. Jimin, for one. Not you.
Despite the many things you want to say in between the moment you come and the moment you go, you stop yourself because that’s not your role in his life.
Whatever this is has rules. Unspoken, but clear. You’re a big girl. You’ve come to terms with the fact that this doesn’t extend beyond closed doors and dim lights. That this is temporary. A placeholder until he finds something real and true and worth risking his idol life for.
So you draw your own lines for your own good.
You don’t stay the night. Not once. You leave before things can settle into something softer, something harder to walk away from in the morning.
You don’t let him clean you up, either. Never. The first time he brings you a washcloth, you take it from his hand with a muttered I got it, like it’s nothing. Like you don’t want the care. Like you don’t need it.
Every now and then, a casual baby slips from his lips because he must know exactly how much it gets to you. You’re not his baby, you know that, so you never call him anything sweet. It should be enough for him that the world calls him SUGA.
And kissing. None of that. Let him take, let him unravel you however he wants. Just not your kryptonite.
The rules keep you grounded. You hold the line firmly where you can, even if sometimes things feel like they are starting to blur.
Yet, there are moments when they do blur in your favor.
When he’s with you, breath uneven, composure slipping in ways not many get to see. When his hands tighten their grip on your hair as he struggles to stay grounded. When his eyes—usually so guarded, so distant—roll to the back of his head as you give him bliss. When he calls you that one word in a voice so strangled and desperate, and punctuates it with please as you have his warm and heavy cock wrapped tightly around your fingers and he chants your name and curses over and over before white blooms across your skin.
That’s the power you have. It does something crazy to you. Because for all the secrecy, all the restraint, all the careful distance you keep, you know this much is yours.
This version of him that comes undone in your hands. Pretty. Putty. It’s enough for now.
[Busan, SK, June 2026]
“Ughhh…”
You’re backstage, in one of the new costumes created for Festa, and this frickin’ zipper won’t—
“Hold still.”
You know the voice, and you don’t even argue. Yoongi steps behind you, tugging the zipper up in one smooth motion, the back of his hand brushing your spine in the process.
“You could’ve cut your skin,” he lightly scolds you with an eyebrow raise.
“Thanks,” you say, not meeting his eyes, ignoring the thump in your chest.
Down the hallway you hear a gaggle of noise and spot some of the dancers congregating by the catering table. You should probably join them and get something to eat, too. Though you’re feeling kinda…
“Nervous?” Yoongi asks.
“What?”
“You seem stressed.”
You don’t even realize you were showing it. “…maybe a little.”
Yoongi nods once like he’s satisfied that he read your mood. “Why?”
“Uh, my family is watching today.”
“Really?” His eyes widen. “Did you ask to seat them in the suites?”
“Oh, there’s no need for that. They should be okay in the 300s.”
Yoongi plucks his phone from his back pocket and starts tapping away. You don’t even know if he heard you or anything, but suddenly he’s furiously texting someone, fingers flying across the screen.
Since he seems distracted, you decide to bounce.
“I’m gonna go.” You jerk a thumb behind you. “I have to meet with Seung Eun to orient some of the… anyway, bye.”
Yoongi lifts his head and nods absently, before going back to whatever has him occupied.
⊙⊝⊜
Your phone rings and your sister’s goofy smile fills your screen. You swipe to answer it immediately. “Hey…”
“Unnie!!” There’s an unmistakable tone of delight in her voice. “Yo, the seats were amazing! Thank you for the upgrade!”
You pause mid-step, phone pressed to your ear. “…upgrade?”
“We got moved to the sky suite,” your sister gushes. “There was a buffet and everything. It was so cool!”
You stop walking entirely now, trying to piece it together. “Huh.”
Your sister is none the wiser about your confusion, still gushing about her experience. “We even met V, J-Hope, and RM!” She continues, sounding a little breathless. “Eomma introduced herself to RM. She thanked him for helping with her surgery. He was so nice, unnie. And so hot.”
Ah. That tracks.
Namjoon.
Of course it was him. Now you’re not surprised because you might have mentioned this to him one time. Honestly, you can’t remember. But he’s a generous soul. Does thoughtful things and he never expects anything back. Who else would have done this for you anyway.
“That’s great,” you say, smiling despite yourself. “I’ll thank him later.”
“I couldn’t really find you though,” your sister adds sheepishly. “All the dancers looked the same.”
You laugh. “That’s kind of the point.”
“You should come home when you can, okay?”
“How are things with eomma and appa?”
“They still haven’t killed each other.” She chuckles wryly and something pricks at your chest.
“Were they at least happy today?”
“So happy,” she assures. “I’m proud of you, unnie. We are all proud of you.”
Your heart feels like it expanded two sizes. “...Thank you.”
“Come visit when you get back from tour, okay?”
“Yeah… I should be able to after US. We’ll have a short break.”
“Okay. I miss you.”
“Miss you, too.”
You say your goodbyes as you reach Yoongi’s door, still feeling a little frayed around the edges. It seems to be the case anytime you speak to your younger sister these days, who is literally the best person in your life. You wish you could tell her your worries, but she already has enough to deal with at home.
You sigh deeply, trying to reset yourself before you lift your wrist to knock.
Yoongi has asked you to come over that night and there wasn’t really any reason for you to say no. You still had some surplus energy you wouldn’t mind burning off. And it should take your mind off things.
He tells you he just wrapped up a Weverse live with the members and you suspect his body is still high from all of the adrenaline and excitement from today.
One thing about Yoongi is that he always knows exactly where to put all that restless energy.
By the time he’s done with you, your thoughts have gone blissfully quiet, your body boneless beside his.
The room is quiet except for the steady rhythm of your breathing, bodies still warm, the sheets a mess around you.
You’re staring up at the ceiling when he speaks. “Did your family enjoy the show?”
You turn to him, brightening instantly. “Yeah. They loved it. I was on the phone with my sister on the way up.”
Yoongi smiles, soft and pretty in the afterglow. “Your dad must’ve liked the unlimited beer in the sky suite.”
You grin. “I think he did. They really appreciated being there.”
“You’re wel–”
It clicks then. “Oh shit.” You sit up suddenly, clutching the sheet to your chest. “I forgot to text Joon.”
“Namjoon-ah?”
“Yeah,” you say, already reaching for your phone. “To thank him for doing that for my family. That was really thoughtful of him.”
You don’t look at Yoongi.
You don’t see the way his expression stills. Flattens.
He watches you for a second longer, something stormy settling behind his eyes. Then he sits up, reaching for the shirt draped over the chair.
“I need to sleep.” He says as his head pokes through the tee.
You glance up from your phone, blinking as realization hits. “Oh. Yeah, of course.” You take it as your cue, slipping out of bed without question.
This isn’t new. This is how it usually goes.
“Sorry,” you mumble, already gathering your clothes. “I’ll get gone.”
He shrugs lightly. “It’s fine.”
You don’t think anything of it. He doesn’t really kick you out per se. But you guess in the few times you’ve done this, he’s figured out you never stay so he doesn’t expect you to.
You dress quickly and head out the door mumbling a goodbye. He doesn’t say anything back.
⊙⊝⊜
You’re walking down the hallway when Namjoon’s reply comes through.
You smile, opening the message.
Namjoon: Your family was so nice. I’m glad to finally meet your eomma. She looks healthy.
Namjoon: Wasn’t me though. You should have told me they were coming and I would’ve arranged for it.
You read the last bit again. Confused.
Wait, so if it wasn’t him…
The elevator doors slide open with a soft chime.
You step inside slowly, thumb hovering over your screen uselessly.
Before it closes, your eyes lift to the door at the end of the corridor, thinking of the man behind it.
Oh.
Your stomach drops.
Could it be…?
You type before you can overthink it.
You: Was it you?
No reply comes.
⊙⊝⊜
Until a week after, where a u free tonight? graces your thread and you’re up and out the door in a green hoodie you copped from the Goyang tour kick-off. It seems like ages ago now, you think, as you pull some loose threads on the sleeve, but it’s really the comfiest thing ever.
You’re back in Seoul now. There’s two weeks of rest and rehearsals before flying out again. Seoul feels strangely still compared to months of constant movement, but it’s nice to come back to this pace after being crazy-busy.
This is the first time Yoongi has messaged you outside the tour bubble, and the fact that he wants to meet at his actual house sends a strange little thrill through your chest.
The lobby of his high-rise is massive, luxurious, infinitely more intimidating than your condo complex. You half expect security to arrest you, but the moment you say your name at the desk, the concierge nods immediately and sends you up without a problem. Still, maybe you should have dressed up a bit? Ah, it’s useless thinking about that now. Yoongi probably just has a random tee and his favorite sweats on anyway.
When you get to his room at the penthouse level, you press the doorbell on the digital screen. The door swings open not five seconds later.
See, Min Yoongi is a menace.
A white ribbed tank clings tightly to his toned chest, biceps completely exposed, the slim-cut brown trousers tapering perfectly against his narrow waist. He smells so good, too. Soapy and musky from having just showered, hair combed back showing his fresh new undercut.
Damn. Okay.
Yoongi chose violence tonight.
“Hi,” you say stupidly, suddenly hyperaware that this is the first time you’ve seen him outside of HYBE, arenas, and hotel hallways.
(Except Hannam. But you don’t talk about that.)
Yoongi leans against the frame barefoot. “Hi,” he echoes, quieter, stepping aside to let you in.
His apartment is exactly what you imagined and somehow not at all.
Minimal. Clean lines. Classy. Smells nice. Huge windows wrapping around the open plan layout of his spacious living room, connecting to the kitchen towards the farther side of the room.
“Wow,” you mumble, toeing your shoes off near the entrance. “This is where you live…”
Yoongi snorts softly behind you. “Shut up.”
“Wae? I haven’t even said anything!”
A tiny smile pulls at his mouth as he watches you slowly wander further inside, your fingertips brushing lightly over the back of the couch as you take everything in.
You stop near one of the framed photos on the shelf. “You decorated this yourself?”
“Mm. Mostly.”
You glance around once more, genuinely impressed. “It feels very…”
“Go ahead,” he sighs. “Make fun of me.”
“No, I was gonna say warm.” You look around once more before teasing lightly, “Like a rich man in a K-drama lives here.”
“The lead or the second lead?”
The question catches you off-guard, but makes you grin. “Does it matter?”
“Of course it matters!”
“They’re not usually both rich, you know.”
“But what if they both are?” He shrugs, still waiting for the answer. “So?”
“Lemme think.” You consider it, making a show of surveying the space like you’re a reality show judge. “The Pinterest touches. I dunno ‘bout those…”
“What do you mean?”
“Yankee candle in Fresh Laundry. Bottle of Rose on the counter with two wine glasses.” You point accusingly. “Succulents.”
The place kinda looks a bit showroom-y, like he got the model unit from the realtor. But there are obvious traces of him everywhere. A pair of ear buds lying on the coffee table outside of its case, shelves of vinyls from many years of collecting, a Spotify plaque for D-day hanging on a wall beside some other accolades, a cat scratching post on the corner.
The one thing making this place feel the most like a K-drama set though is the man standing in front of you right now. In that fit. So fucking handsome. Looking at you with those stupidly hopeful eyes like your opinion of his apartment matters way more than it should.
Hands twitching faintly at his sides, Yoongi seems to be combusting for praise tonight, so you give it to him. It’s the truth anyways.
“Lead guy.”
His mouth twitches. “There it is.”
You smile softly as you watch him pour the wine. The sweet tang of the rosé glides across your tongue, cool and refreshing down your throat while Yoongi leans against the kitchen counter, watching you over the rim of his own glass with far too much satisfaction.
Like he’s pleased you like it here. Like he’s pleased you’re here.
“C’mere,” he mutters eventually, nodding toward the living room.
You follow him deeper into the apartment, eyes trailing after the broad line of his shoulders as he strolls toward the massive couch like he doesn’t realize how unfair he looks in soft pants and that stupid tank top.
He gestures casually toward the sofa. “Sit befo—”
Before he can even finish the sentence, your hands are on him.
“You have no idea how hot this is,” you inform him seriously, shoving lightly at his chest.
“Yah—”
He drops onto the couch with a startled laugh, and you immediately climb into his lap, your knees sinking into the plush cushions on either side of his thighs. His palms slide instinctively up your bare legs, settling at your waist before dipping lower, squeezing at your ass like he can’t decide where he wants to hold you most.
“Why are you wearing this?” you accuse, tugging lightly at the neckline of his tank.
“Why are you wearing that?” he accuses back.
You blink innocently. “Wearing what?”
“That.” He gestures vaguely toward your mouth, already looking annoyed. “The lip thing.”
Oh. You smile slowly. “You like it?”
“Hate it,” he deadpans immediately.
Which means you’ve already won.
You drag your bottom lip between your teeth before licking over the stain deliberately, just enough for it to catch the light, glossy and wet.
“Mm,” you hum. “Tastes good, too.”
Yoongi’s tongue presses against the inside of his cheek. “Don’t.”
“Don’t what?”
His hands tighten slightly on your waist. “You know what.”
You tilt your head, pouting playfully now. “No, I don’t think I do.”
His gaze drops to your lips again like he can’t help it. Like he’s actively losing a battle with himself.
“Y/N,” he warns.
You lean closer on purpose, close enough for him to smell the sweet strawberry tint on your mouth. “What?”
He exhales slowly through his nose, eyes darkening in that way you’ve become very familiar with. “I need to fuckin’ do something with my mouth.”
“Is that your way of asking if you can kiss me?” You laugh softly, pleased with yourself, as you deliberately grind down against his length, just once. “You’re so romantic.”
A groan. A slap on your ass. Then a long, suffering sigh. “What if I say please?”
“Oh wow, big bad Agust D wants to say please?”
“Y/N.”
“You know you can’t kiss me, Yoongi.”
Another sigh. Deeper this time, just like the slow drag of your clothed cunt against the ridge of his cock.
His head tips back slightly against the couch like he’s asking the universe for patience while your smile grows impossibly smug.
“Fuuuuck,” he curses. “You’re evil.”
“Just suck on my tits. I don’t care.”
His brow quirks. “You don't care?”
You shrug dismissively.
You don’t know it then, but he bookmarks that as a challenge. Not for tonight, though. He’s already so worked up.
“Lie back,” he smacks your ass again and maneuvers you towards the couch cushions, already halfway peeling your shorts and panties off your legs.
“Show me your tits. Wanna see them while I eat you out.”
You comply, promptly pulling the zip of your hoodie down, showing you’re bare underneath. His eyes bug out temporarily before he shakes his head and drops his gaze between your legs.
He presses his lips to the soft inner flesh of your thigh, inching up to your core. He switches to the other leg, pressing butterfly kisses there to drive you insane.
Then, his tongue darts out to part your folds, gently, shallowly, wiggling it as if to make room.
Your hips arch off from the cushions, chasing his wet muscle immediately. But he holds you down, soft thighs locked against strong arms as he tsks a warning for you not to squirm too much.
He lifts his head and grits, in mock seriousness. “Can I have my meal in peace now?”
God, what the fuck is he saying? No matter, it got you clenching around nothing.
Yoongi lowers his chest further where you’re spread open for him. The warm air from his nose tickles your skin before letting his lips touch yours.
What he does next tracks, because he’s a little shit.
Yoongi makes a show of making out with your puffy lips as if it was your mouth. You prop yourself on elbows to watch him do it, applying the faintest pressure before pulling it with a gentle suck. He licks and suckles noisily and you whine as his tongue snakes between your slit to flick against your clit. Just the first swipe almost breaks you.
Yoongi doesn’t really talk much when he gets into a flowstate. Not before he props a pillow behind your head because he knows you love this show.
“Watch…” he instructs, before your eager nod makes him smirk.
He keeps it soft, steady at first, his fat tongue sliding up and down your aching nub. He takes his time with this, just gives you maddeningly slow, torturous flicks at a glacial pace. The heat pools low on your belly, gradually increasing in intensity as he shakes his head against your mound, tongue zig-zagging against your clit.
You run your fingers through his short hair, scratching his scalp. He purrs when you do that and the vibration makes you shiver.
This is the view you retrieve from your mind palace on nights you’re alone. Yoongi’s dark hair and even darker eyes between your legs.
Fuck. He’s so insanely good at this. He moves lower to lap at the trail of juices leaking from your hole. You moan helplessly when he fucks you shallowly with his tongue, the sharp tip breaching your entrance but just barely.
“God… Yoongi, what the fuck?”
As if he wants to drive you even more insane, he adds pressure to your clit with his thumb and you’re just moaning and panting haplessly now, mind going numb.
Just when you’re about to—
Of course, of fucking course, he pulls back. You tip your head back, chasing the breath that has left your lungs.
“Look at you, baby.” Yoongi admires how his spit and your juices make your pussy all shiny and pretty. Eyes full of stars, he breathes out, “this perfect fuckin’ cunt…”
“Yoongi,” you squirm, biting your lip as he continues to just ogle at you. “Stop teasing…”
“Okay, okay…” he chuckles, giving your clit one quick swipe.
Yoongi takes your hand on the back of his neck and swallows two fingers, wetting the pads. He bites it playfully before telling you to “play with your tits...”
You pluck at your right nipple, swirling his spit around it before pulling it taut and releasing it with a jiggle. You didn’t realize your eyes fluttered shut until you feel the moist heat of his mouth envelop your other nipple, sucking at it greedily to force your eyes open.
“You ready to come?” he mumbles against your chest, kissing the sweat off your sternum.
“Please…” you scratch the tufts of his hair behind his ear, earning you another deep groan as he nuzzles his cheek against the softness of your tits.
He trails gentle kisses down your body as he goes back to his previous position. And you gasp when he does the thing for you. The finishing move. It’s when he sucks your clit in between his soft, pink lips and the tip of his tongue circles it while inside the warmth of his mouth.
“I love it when you do that… shit…”
His brows are furrowed while he hums against you, still suckling like he’s addicted, even moaning indulgently for you.
“Yoongi, please. Don’t stop…”
And just like that…
“Not yet.”
He smirks as he withdraws just enough to look you dead in the eye before stuffing two fingers right through your cunt without warning.
“Fuck!” you cry out, walls clamping tight at the intrusion.
God his fingers. They’re moving so fast and it feels impossible. You’re too close to hold back.
“Not yet,” he snarls, fingers moving rapidly in and out of your sopping hole now. “Not until I say so.”
Everything feels fucking lit. Your skin is burning up, electricity running up and down your veins.
But this is where he likes to play, because Yoongi enjoys edging you. Works you up, but forces you to control yourself as if it doesn’t take every ounce of willpower not to explode. He’s a fucking problem.
“Don’t act like you don’t like this,” he mutters, almost to himself, as he watches you tremble. “I know you do.”
You loathe to admit that you like that sadistic grin on his face when he knows you’re close, but even better, the tiny tilt of his brow when he finally tells you to let go.
Your fingers curl against his bicep, grounding yourself as you start to grind against his fingers. You meet his every thrust, the noisy squelches of your pussy filling the room. You’re writhing, desperate, mouth hanging open to take every ounce of pleasure seeping into your bones and dribbling down your thighs.
There’s something glinting in his eyes when he asks. “You let anyone else see you like this?”
You’re still hyperfocused on rocking against him.
“Answer me,” he says, adding a third finger now as he scissors your gummy walls open.
You roll your eyes, even as your pulse races. “You’re the only one stupid enough to deal with me.”
That seems to satisfy him.
“Good,” he smirks. “Come for me.”
Your brain seems to respond to his voice because suddenly you’re shuddering as your orgasm racks your body, spine bowing towards him, while he continues to piston his fingers inside, your cunt weeping violently in surrender.
His fingers slow, helping you ride out the wave. You sink back into the couch cushions, smiling a little dopey as you stare at the ceiling above.
“I’m not done with you…”
“I’m not done with you, either,” you reply, more breath than your actual voice, still heaving from your release.
He grins all big and cocky, licking your juices clean off his bony digits and you feel another twitch right in the spot where he just left.
You move to stand up, jelly legs still a little wobbly. He catches you by the ass, and you shove his cheeky face back, giggling.
An equal opportunity lover he maintains, but you suspect deep down he’s an ass man.
Yoongi licks his bottom lip while you shrug off the hoodie, eyes on him. He looks chuffed as hell as he palms his crotch, the stiff one underneath the thin material already making itself known.
“Pants off,” you say sweetly, sliding your hands from your sides to cup the underside of your breasts.
A sharp inhale mixes with the shuffle of pants and briefs as it joins your hoodie in a messy puddle.
Yoongi is big. You already know he packs a wallop, but it still surprises you every damn time.
He tugs at the velvety shaft languidly, a tiny bead of white pooling at the tip.
You bite your lip, heart racing, as you watch him spread his cum around his cockhead with his thumb.
The grin he has on his naughty, just one corner lifted up, eyes shining with mischief. “Sup?”
The fucking audacity.
So tonight, you decide to lean into every unfair advantage your years of dancing gave you. You know exactly how to move your body to elicit the right reactions and bring Yoongi to his demise.
You turn around, gathering your hair on one side, then glance at him from over your shoulder as you throw your ass back, just once. Okay, maybe twice.
Yoongi groans appreciatively. “You’re so sexy. So fuckin’ sexy.” He combs his hair back, eyes glued to the soft jiggle of your behind as he gives his cock a few more pumps.
You spank your bum playfully, a pretty shade of red blooming on your skin, before spreading your cunt open for him as you bend forward.
“Holy fuuuck.” Yoongi slurs. “I gotta–”
He doesn’t finish the sentence, just presses his face against your ass so suddenly that you almost tip forward if he wasn’t gripping your hips. Then, you feel him trail his tongue from your glistening hole and up towards the rim. That makes your knees buckle but thankfully he catches you by the waist and plants your ass firmly against his cock.
Yoongi’s already so hard against you and that just makes you want to tease him a bit more. You shift a little so his thick cock sits snug between your cheeks. He huffs a satisfied chuckle at the feeling, rutting up once to stuff himself even deeper into the soft squish of your ass.
You hook one hand around his neck, pulling him forward to kiss the underside of his jaw, tasting his clean sweat as you move your hips in a slow swivel.
“Fuckiiiin’ hell…”
The groan you pull from his throat with each calculated roll gets lower and a little more wrecked with each pass. But when you drag your tongue slowly along the shell of his ear, the sound he lets out is downright nasty. A low, desperate rumble that went straight to your pussy.
Wetness spreads along his cock as you continue to rub against him, a little faster, panting sweet sighs against his ear. You flick your warm tongue along his lobe again, licking along the cartilage before capturing it inside your mouth.
“A-ahhh,” Yoongi chokes out a shudder like he was caught off-guard. “Shit, baby, that’s…”
“You like that?” You hum and continue to lick and suckle, the sensual noises making his dick twitch. It’s the first time you pulled this move on him and you’re satisfied with his reaction.
Hands sliding up to make your breasts spill from his hands, he grits. “I think you need to get fucked hard.”
“Can you do that for me, Yoon?” you mewl as he pinches your nipples between his calloused fingertips, pleasure pricking at your chest. “You wanna fuck me hard?”
“You know I do.” he rasps, voice an octave lower. “Bend over the arm rest, baby.”
You rearrange yourself on his utterly debauched couch as he rolls a condom on himself that he grabs from behind a lamp like he has it at the ready. You can’t even clock him for that because you’re desperate to have him inside you.
Thighs still burning from your little performance, you rest your weight on your belly.
Yoongi stands behind you, lining himself up on your entrance as he lets his fat cock be swallowed inch by inch.
“Fuck, baby. It’s so tight.” he groans, as your pussy flutters all over him.
You moan when he finally pushes himself to the hilt, crescent shapes blooming on the soft skin on your waist.
“Yoongi…” You call his name like a broken plea.
His pelvis bounces against your ass as he thrusts his dick in and out of you at a ruthless pace. There’s no show build up here, just a quick ascent to the top. You claw at the cushions finding something to grip as he slams against you, rough and unrestrained, and you’re reduced to a wailing mess.
He bucks his hips even harder, faster, working himself stupid. You know he’s fucking gone, you can feel it.
“Touch yourself, baby. Fuck, I’m so close…”
You slip your index between your battered cunt, your clit so slippery it doesn’t take much for you to reach your peak for a second time.
You rub quick finger eights and reach cloud nine even quicker, shaking as you cum, your walls pulsing against his cock.
“Where?” he asks when he knows you’ve finished.
“Back.”
He slips out of you so fast, and before you can whine at the sudden emptiness, you feel the warm ropes of Yoongi’s gooey cum splash against your spine as your name leaves his lips.
[Madrid, June 2026]
You should have known that of all the girls it would be Rei who clocks you first.
You’ve barely stepped out from behind the dim green room partition when she narrows her eyes at you. You shift your slightly twisted top and wince as it chafes against your too-sensitive nipples.
After challenging Yoongi with making you come from just nipple stimulation, you found yourself on top of spare music equipment as he decided to grant your wish like some fucked-up genie.
Behind you, he walks out a beat later.
Rei’s lips part, then press into a thin line.
“Wow,” she mutters, low enough that only you hear. “He looks like an evil king.”
You look at Yoongi over your shoulder—and yeahhhh. There’s no denying what just happened. His lips are red, slightly swollen, and his hair? God. You shouldn’t have tugged that hard. It’s sticking out every which way.
“I know Mujin don’t do hair like that,” Rei comments.
You’re still mute, refusing to meet her eyes as she falls into step beside you.
“You doing hair now, sweets?” Rei teases. “I didn’t realize glam was short-staffed.”
“I’ve no clue what you’re talking about,” you say quickly, already walking faster.
She cackles, not convinced in the slightest. But it’s fine. If there’s one person you can trust here it’s Rei.
“Adios, mamacita,” she calls out as you round the corner to find the nearest bathroom.
⊙⊝⊜
Rehearsal runs late. But the minute it’s over you return your eomma’s call.
Your dad and your mom got into a fight.
Something about his pension.
Something about the trash.
Something about him never listening to her needs.
Rei looks over to you, a silent question if she should hang back. The hotel is 10, maybe 15 minutes on foot, so you wave a dismissive hand. You don’t want witnesses to this. Not for this. You can make your way back easily. You just need to get through this phone call.
You let your mom spill her guts to you. You know love is there. But you also know how something can be real and still not work.
At some point, your legs just give out. You’re slumped on the floor, the base of your spine against the worn walls of the dance studio as you control your breathing. In through your nose. Out through your mouth.
Your heartbeat hasn’t fully come down yet, still knocking against your ribs, and this news isn’t doing you any favors.
By the time the call finishes, your skin is no longer tacky with sweat, but your limbs still feel heavy. You think about what your mom said. Not everything, just the last part. That love isn’t always enough.
You drag a hand down your face, pressing your palms into your eyes until you see white. After a few minutes, you push yourself up, roll your shoulders. You don’t want to cry over something you can’t control.
You’re locking up behind you when you see him.
Yoongi’s leaning against the wall like he’s been there a while, arms crossed loosely, gaze unfocused as he chews on the skin on his bottom lip.
“You waiting for someone?” you ask, keeping it light, like your pulse is not racing.
“Mm.”
“…who?”
This time he looks at you properly. Just for a second. You look away, not wanting to show him truths buried beneath your lids. You dig through your bag for your pepper spray, something to keep in hand for the walk back to the hotel.
“Don’t worry about it.”
You scoff softly. “Okay.”
As you start heading out, he pushes off the wall like he’s been waiting for that exact moment, falling into step beside you like it was always the plan.
“My car’s still outside,” Yoongi says, like you should already know what that means.
You hesitate for half a second. But your tired legs are screaming hallelujah as you follow him out.
⊙⊝⊜
Inside the SUV neither of you says anything at first. Personally, you don’t know what the hell you’re doing here. Maybe he wants to fuck in the car? You really don’t know…
You glance over to where he’s seated. The city moves outside in streaks of gold and shadow, streetlights slipping across his profile in intervals. He also looks worn, tired. 10% battery life.
So you let your head fall back against the seat, eyes half-lidded, letting your body finally start to come down from everything.
“Is it okay if we stop somewhere?” he asks when the driver nears the hotel cul de sac.
You turn your head slightly. “Where?”
“Place I heard about.”
You study him for a second. “What if I say no?”
There’s no hesitation. “Then it’s a no.” He sounds serious.
“Relax. I’m kidding.” You huff out a quiet laugh, shaking your head. “Just pretend I’m not here, I’m wiped.”
He leans over and presses a small button on your armrest, the recliner whirring quietly as it tilts back, letting you sink into the seat a little more.
“Thanks,” you mumble, curling a little to the side away from him, so you can watch the view from outside.
⊙⊝⊜
Tucked into a narrow street, the shop is easy to miss. You never would have gone here not with how small it is, how unassuming. It’s like a Spanish deli. A butcher shop and a little restaurant rolled into one.
You step inside and the smell hits you. Salt, cured meat, something rich and fatty and indulgent, layered over the faint tang of wine and old wood.
Yoongi steps towards the till, pointing to something in the menu. You don’t hear what he communicates except for the faint “Gracias.”
You couldn’t help but snicker at how he said it so cutely.
“I got this for us,” he says, showing you a picture of an open sandwich called bocadillo de jamon.
You raise a brow. “You ordered for me?”
He smirks playfully. “Got a problem with it?”
“Why do you keep bossing me around?”
He shakes his head, a tiny grin playing in his lips, before he tsks. “Don’t pretend you don’t like it.”
“Wha—“ a puff of air escapes your gaping mouth. How dare he.
⊙⊝⊜
Back in the car, the wrappers crinkle softly between you as you take the first bite, grease soaking faintly through the paper, the taste immediate and overwhelming in the best way. It’s salty, rich, and so indulgent.
“Wow,” you gush. “This is so fuckin’ good.”
He nods, a lump on the side of his cheek as he chews thoughtfully.
You glance at him. “You been there before?”
“No,” he says simply. “But it was on the Michelin Bib Gourmand.”
Honestly, you have no idea what that means. But Yoongi is always researching random shit, his knowledge running weirdly deep in ways that constantly catch you off guard, so you assume it’s basically the equivalent of five stars on Yelp.
Yoongi tells the driver to head back to the hotel, but not before he also hands the man a sandwich of his own.
Then, he reaches into the bag and pulls out two tiny bottles of red wine, twisting one open with ease before handing it to you.
“Yay,” you smile, oddly delighted by the unexpected treat.
You glance back toward the little jamon spot as the car pulls away, the warm glow of the restaurant fading slowly into the Madrid night. “That’s the kind of place you see in movies, y’know?” you muse lightly. “Somewhere people accidentally fall in love on the first date.”
Yoongi takes a slow swig of wine, thumb swiping across his bottom lip afterward. He doesn’t reply with words. Just a tiny wine-stained smile.
You take another crunchy bite of your sandwich then take your phone out to snap a quick pic. God, it’s amazing.
“What are you doing tomorrow?” he asks after a while.
“It’s my off,” you say, leaning your head back again. “So, nothing. Sleep. Maybe walk around if I feel like being a human. I know the girls wanna hit the beach.”
He nods. “Mm. You like the beach?”
“Sometimes. You?”
“Nah, I hate water.”
You smirk. He is never beating the catman allegations. “You got plans tomorrow?”
“Sleep,” he laughs.
You snort softly. “Of course.”
The rest of the ride is quiet after that. You part ways at the lobby drop off, where you go down, while the driver takes the private entrance for him as per protocol.
But later, in your room, the silence feels different. You catch your reflection in the mirror as you take the day off with a makeup wipe.
Your mom’s voice echoes faintly in your head. You sigh. You need to call her back in the morning. See if she changes her mind.
You peel your lashes away, letting your eyes revel in relief for a second.
You lick your lips and still taste the wine, the salt. You remember the quaint restaurant.
And Yoongi. The way he waited for you outside the studio. The softness in his face inside the car. The baby-sized bottle of red. Then shake your head lightly.
Was it a–? No way.
That couldn’t be what it felt like.
That couldn't have been a date.
A/N: Hehe <3
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Thank you for reading you lovely, beautiful human xo
aka 10 ways to win your husband's heart: an arranged marriage AU
You're five years into your arranged marriage with Min Yoongi, and he's never once retaliated for anything you've done to him. One day you realise you've lost your appetite for provoking him, and you set about trying to win his heart instead.
Pairing: Yoongi x F! reader
Rating: 18+
Genre: Arranged marriage, e2l, smut, angst
Word count: 12k
Warnings: Sex, swearing
Ah shit.
You lift the arm curled around your waist off you and commando roll out of the luxurious california king you’ve woken up in.
The beautiful man you woke up with shifts and his face presses into the pillow.
You tear your admiring eyes away from him guiltily and grab his shirt from the floor, slipping it on, buttoning quickly.
You’re tiptoeing to the door when a grumpy deep voice makes you freeze.
‘That’s my favourite shirt,’ your husband says.
You reach for your patience and don’t find it.
Min Yoongi has exhausted all your reserves of goodwill towards him.
‘I was trying to be considerate and not wake you up,’ you say through gritted teeth.
He snorts.
Your blood pressure spikes.
You unbutton the shirt and seriously consider throwing it at his beautiful head.
You’re so annoyed it takes you longer than it should to register the way his gaze is roaming your naked body.
‘Min Yoongi,’ you say, injecting as much ice into your tone as you can, ‘you know we can only tolerate each other when we’re drunk.’
‘My morning wood’s not picky,’ he drawls, like it’s a compliment.
You roll your eyes. You know Yoongi’s always been attracted to you physically.
It’s your personality he can’t stand.
‘I’m sore,’ you tell him briskly, putting your dress back on.
You’re not lying. You think Yoongi sometimes takes his anger with you out on your cunt.
You love it, really, but he’s got a generous dick and impressive stamina and you really are sore.
Yoongi, unusually, looks concerned. ‘Was it too much?’
You ignore the flutter in your chest as he picks your panties off the floor and passes them to you, smoothing a soothing hand over your lower back.
You step away from his touch as though his hand is burning.
His sigh of irritation gives you life.
‘You’re deeply annoying,’ he tells you.
You smile, brilliantly, at him.
‘Oh Yoongi, are you this sweet to all the women you sleep with?’
‘Are you this annoying to all the men you fuck?’ he snaps.
Your smile falters for a second before you pull your mask firmly back in place.
You turn away from him and leave his bedroom without a goodbye.
***
Yoongi stares at the mark on his neck, just above the collar of his shirt, and thinks of you as he gets dressed for work.
Of course you’d had to mark him, even after he’d warned you not to.
Sometimes you’re so fucking exasperating he can’t stand you.
Now he has to meet his entire board, including his father and grandfather, looking like a horny teenager.
He has a flashback to your beautiful thighs wrapped around his hips, ankles crossed behind him, as you begged him not to stop.
Yoongi tries to shut that image out of his head before the erection he’s had all morning returns, but the image is burned into his retinas.
Shit, it’s in living technicolour with fucking surround sound.
Yoongi finishes getting dressed and stops by the kitchen for a coffee.
Mrs Gye, his housekeeper, smiles politely at him as she hands him his flask.
Yoongi thanks her, and is about to leave when he remembers.
‘Can you make some herbal tea for Mrs Min, please? She’s not feeling too well this morning.’
Mrs Gye nods, ‘of course, Mr Min.’
‘Don’t tell her I asked you to do it, just say you made some,’ Yoongi instructs.
Mrs Gye looks like she’s about to protest, but Yoongi’s already out the door into his waiting car.
***
You sigh with pleasure as you sip your herbal tea on your way into work.
Mrs Gye, your housekeeper, is truly a treasure.
She’d assured you that Yoongi hadn’t noticed anything different about his morning flask of coffee.
Yoongi’s a man of habit, so much so that he’s predictable in every way.
One of the cleaners had dropped his favourite flask and cracked it yesterday.
She’d been apologetic, but you’d been worried.
You know he’s got a big meeting with the board of his company today and you’d been determined not to let anything detract from his focus.
You’d driven to three places after work before you’d been able to find a replacement. You’d bought five, just to futureproof against any other flask mishaps.
Of course, all that driving around had made you late for dinner and Yoongi had been sure you’d been late on purpose.
You can’t blame him, it’s the sort of stunt you’d have pulled five years ago when you first got married.
You’ve changed but you’re pretty sure Yoongi sees you as still the same spoiled, immature heiress he’d been forced to marry, as the oldest son and heir to his family’s vast business empire.
Anyway, Yoongi’d been seething throughout dinner.
He’d spanked you until your ass was red raw.
You’d begged for more.
You stifle the delicious shiver that runs through you at the memory.
Your mood drops as you remember him accusing you of fucking other men.
Sure, you’d accused him of the same, but you’ve always been faithful to him.
You just don’t know if he’s been as faithful to you.
You’d heard the rumours about him and his breathtakingly beautiful and terrifyingly talented media director.
Park Gyuri was a model and actress before she went to grad school and earned an MBA. She waltzed into Yoongi’s family company, and she’s been doing a bang up job of everything since then.
She’s also the woman Yoongi was dating before he was forced to marry you.
You stopped seeking out the rumours because it became upsetting.
In your heart of hearts, you don’t think Yoongi’s any more in love with you than he was when you got married.
In truth, you wouldn’t blame him.
You’d spent years being the exact cold hearted bitch he’d eventually accused you of being.
You’re surprised it took him that long to finally snap.
***
Yoongi smiles at Gyuri as she walks into his office.
She’s beautifully put together as always, and she’s wearing green silk today, a shade that complements her colouring well.
‘Free for dinner tonight?’ she asks.
‘What’s the occasion?’ Yoongi asks.
‘Nothing, I just want to have dinner with my friend,’ Gyuri says, smiling affectionately at him.
There’s a pause before ‘friend’, so brief Yoongi knows anyone else probably wouldn’t have noticed it, but he did.
Yoongi would be lying if he said he’d never considered what his life would be like now if he hadn’t married you.
He’d probably be less annoyed on a day to day basis.
He’d probably still be a member of the country club you’d got him kicked out of.
He might be married to Gyuri instead.
He’s about to say yes when your face floats into his head. The look in your eyes when he’d accused you of being annoying, which is definitely true, and of fucking other men, which he doesn’t think is true.
Yoongi says, politely, ‘Rain check? I’d like to have dinner at home today.’
He’s been thinking about how you said you were sore, and he wants to check on you.
You’ll probably ignore him like you always do but he wants to see you’re all right for himself.
Also, he’s aware there’s an underlying frisson between him and Gyuri, and he doesn’t want to explore that just yet.
For once, Yoongi doesn’t linger in his office after everyone leaves. He picks up his bag and calls for his car and heads home.
When he reaches home, he walks into the kitchen. Mrs Gye is at the sink whilst something’s simmering on the stovetop. She startles when he sees him.
‘Ah, Mr Min, you’re back early.’
Yoongi murmurs something about working at home and hands her his flask. Then he stops, looking at another identical four flasks sitting to dry on the draining board by the sink.
Mrs Gye sees his line of vision.
‘Mrs Min bought them yesterday.’
Yoongi’s first thought is that you’re plotting something devious.
‘Where is Mrs Min?’ he asks.
‘She went up to her room.’
Yoongi doesn’t often go to your rooms, in fact he doesn’t think he’s visited you there this year at all.
He knocks on the door and there’s a muffled response.
‘I’m in bed, is it important, Mrs Gye?’
Yoongi says, ‘it’s me.’
He senses rather than hears your response. In moments you’re opening the door, pulling a robe tight around your waist.
Your hair is messy, your face devoid of makeup.
You look up at him self consciously.
Yoongi puts a hand on your arm. ‘Are you ok?’
You frown at him. ‘You didn’t kill me with your dick. I’m on my period.’
Yoongi bites back the laugh that threatens to erupt.
You ask, ‘would you like to come in?’
Yoongi follows you through your bedroom to your living area.
You pour both of you water and sit in your favourite chair, legs curling underneath you.
‘How are you doing, Yoongi?’ you ask, yawning.
‘Do you want to sleep with me?’ Yoongi asks, suddenly.
You choke on your water.
Yoongi waits until you’ve recovered enough to speak.
‘Right now? Jesus Yoongi I said I was on my period.’
Yoongi looks unperturbed. ‘I didn’t mean fuck, although if you’re down, I am. I meant sleep with me. Do you want to sleep in the same room?’
You stare at him.
‘Are we in danger?’
Yoongi stares at you.‘What? No, don’t be ridiculous.’
‘You can tell me, Yoongi, my family have security contacts everywhere.’
Yoongi massages his forehead. ‘No. Forget it. Just forget it.’
You get up hurriedly as he looks like he’s about to ditch you. ‘Yoongi!’
He stops.
‘You want to spend more time together?’ You ask, doubtful as to what he really meant.
‘We’re married,’ Yoongi points out, patient. ‘We’ll probably have kids eventually. Shouldn’t we try to get to know each other?’
You have a flashback, vivid, of Yoongi calling you a spoiled, stuck up bitch.
‘Yes. Let’s sleep together.’
Yoongi looks at you for a moment.
He holds out his hand.
With a sense of trepidation, you take it.
***
‘It’s weird not to be fucking,’ you say to Yoongi, pulling the covers up to your neck, looking around his room curiously.
‘It’s also 9pm. Why are you already in bed?’
You hop out and trip over a pair of Yoongi’s slippers, sprawling on the floor.
Yoongi looks at you, shirt half unbuttoned.
‘I’m tired,’ you say, crawling back into bed.
You pull the covers over your head.
A moment later you feel him sitting on the bed.
He pats over where your head is.
‘Come have dinner with me.’
‘Is that an euphemism for a blow job?’ you ask from under the covers.
You sit up suddenly and realise Yoongi’s sitting on the bed in his briefs.
You can feel heat rush to your face.
It’s not like you haven’t seen your husband naked before, hell, it’s not even been 24 hours since you last fucked.
But this is different.
This is intimacy when you’re more comfortable with fucking.
Yoongi’s watching the way your eyes rove over his thighs.
‘See something you like?’ he asks, coolly.
You scoff. ‘Of course I like the way you look, Min Yoongi.’
You get up. ‘Let’s eat.’
****
Yoongi eyes you over the soup you’re stirring.
‘Why did you buy so many flasks?’ he asks.
Your eyes snap to his. ‘How do you know that?’
‘I saw them.’
You shrug. ‘You like them. I want you to have replacements if one breaks.’
‘That’s thoughtful.’
‘Just being a dutiful wife,’ you chirrup cheerfully.
Yoongi stares at you like you’ve grown another head. ‘You are definitely not that.’
You nod in agreement. ‘You’re right.’
‘Are you feeling ok? You’ve barely touched your soup and you already tried to get into bed.’
‘I’m on my period,’ you tell him, again. You get up. ‘I’m going to go get some of my things and bring them to your room.’
‘It’s our room,’ Yoongi corrects, gently.
‘Our room,’ you repeat.
By the time you’ve finished gathering your things, Yoongi’s just got to his door.
‘After you,’ he says, strangely formal.
You shoot him a look and head to his huge dressing room.
‘You can use that side,’ he says, pointing.
The entire wall he’s pointing at is made up of bare clothes rails at varying heights.
You pull open a drawer, intending to deposit your toiletries and underwear in it, and stop when you see the packages inside it.
‘What’s this?’ you ask.
Yoongi walks over from his side of the dressing room.
Together you look at the boxes from a well-known underwear brand. It’s the same brand you tend to wear.
You look up at Yoongi, and to your surprise, the tips of his ears are red.
Your impatient, unsentimental husband actually looks… embarrassed.
You wait him out.
Finally, he mutters, ‘sometimes if I see something I like, I buy it for you.’
You can’t believe your ears.
‘Did you buy this for — someone else?’ you ask quietly.
Another thought occurs to you.
‘Did you buy this for yourself?’ you ask.
Yoongi groans, irritably.
‘I bought all this shit for you. My wife.’
He opens the top box and rifles through what looks like a beautiful red silk and lace teddy. You glimpse the tags. It’s your size.
‘I got this after that night when you wore that red dress to meet the Hans because you look fucking breathtaking in red.’
‘How do you know my size?’ you ask weakly, stalling to give your brain time to catch up.
‘Your size is the only fucking thing I do know about you,’ Yoongi says, still irritable. ‘How many times have I taken your lingerie off?’
You stare each other into an uneasy stalemate.
‘You really didn’t buy this for anyone else?’ you ask.
‘Believe me or don’t believe me,’ Yoongi says, at the end of his tether.
He stalks out of his dressing room, and you blink blindly at the stack of boxes in the drawer.
By the time you re-enter Yoongi’s bedroom, the lights are off and he’s a lump under the covers.
You climb in the other side and after a moment, scoot over to be closer to him.
He’s got his back to you, rigid, cold.
You put your hand on his shoulder to warn him, then kiss the back of his neck.
‘Thank you,’ you tell him.
You’re half- asleep by the time he turns onto his back. His hand brushes yours under the covers, not holding it but touching you.
‘You’re welcome,’ he says.
You curl your pinky finger around his, like a promise, and go to sleep.
***
When you wake up the next morning, Yoongi’s already gone.
His side of the bed is rumpled, and when you run your hand over the sheet it’s cold.
You need to think.
Even better, you need a third party to do your thinking for you.
You send your best friend Nara a text, then notice the time.
Shit. You need to get to work.
You hop out of bed, trip over Yoongi’s slippers again and scurry to your own room to get dressed.
Your morning is pretty dull, a bunch of meetings with clients, a team brief before your new product launch tonight.
Nara meets you for lunch.
Kim Nara has been your closest friend since junior tennis club. She has an impressively strong backhand, a competitive streak a mile wide and is the most loyal person you’ve ever met.
She pours you some wine from the bottle she started whilst waiting for you, then sits back in her seat.
‘What was so urgent you had to meet today?’ she asks.
Her eyes narrow. ‘Did Min Yoongi knock you up?’
‘What? No. I’m on my period right now,’ you protest.
You take a gulp of wine to fortify yourself.
‘But it does involve him.’
Nara takes a matching big sip. ‘Hit me.’
‘I think I should try to get him to forgive me.’
‘For what?’ Nara asks. There’s a mischievous light in her eyes now.
‘For buying Kim Seokjin instead of him at that bullshit charity auction? For sending that chain email to all his employees with his STI testing results? For getting him blacklisted from every golf course in the country?’
You cringe.
You’d been young when you married Yoongi, spoiled and impulsive and naive and terribly, terribly selfish.
Nara sucks in a breath to power what you know is going to be a litany of crimes. You’d write it all down if it wouldn’t kill you to read what an asshole you were to him.
You have no idea why he hasn’t divorced you.
You guess this is why he tries to break you every time you have sex.
Nara’s talking about the time you ran off to Switzerland for three months, but you tune her out.
You need to make all this up to Yoongi, a man who buys you gifts even when you’re barely talking, and who wants to be closer to you despite everything you’ve done to him.
You figure ten is a nice round number.
You’re going to do it.
You’re going to find the ten worst things you’ve done to Min Yoongi and make up for every single one of them.
***
‘I’m sorry, Mrs Min, Mr Kim says he can’t see you until his bodyguard gets here.’
You gape at the expressionless secretary who’s been dispatched to give you the news. He nods apologetically, then withdraws.
The nerve of Kim Seokjin.
Kim Seokjin is Yoongi’s best friend, and instrumental in your plan to make things right with Yoongi.
It looks like he’s going to make you work for it every step of the way. You’ve been waiting outside his office for ten minutes already, and there’s no end in sight.
The first attack you’d launched on Min Yoongi after you got married was at a charity fundraiser where there had been, to your devious delight, an auction.
Not just any auction. Seokjin and Yoongi had been part of it, and you’d very intentionally bid on Seokjin despite wearing the Min heirloom pendant around your neck.
You’d bid a ridiculous amount and won him, a record that was shattered not long after by the ‘purchase’ of a man with a rakish glint in his eye, Jungkook, you think his name was.
Even worse, you’d paid a horny elderly society lady, Mrs Kang, known for her constant innuendoes and wandering hands, to purchase your then new husband.
He’s never told you what happened on their date.
On your date with Seokjin you’d dressed so provocatively you were a quick move away from being arrested for public indecency.
To his credit, you hadn’t once caught Seokjin’s eyes wandering below your neck.
He’d spent the whole date scolding you on Yoongi’s behalf.
You’ve had other shenanigans with Seokjin, but the auction is the most scandalous one by far. You’re not surprised he doesn’t want to see you.
You glance at your watch and realise you’ve been waiting for over twenty minutes.
You get up to leave and you hear your name called in a deep voice that’s definitely not Seokjin’s.
It’s a man, around six feet tall, who looks the size of a refrigerator. He looks like he could break you in half and not break a sweat.
You’re escorted into Seokjin’s office.
‘Y/N,’ Seokjin says, formally, from behind his desk. ‘Have a seat.’
You aren’t sure if Seokjin realises that you practically grew up in boardrooms much more intimidating than this.
You sit behind his desk obediently.
‘I wanted to talk to you about Yoongi,’ you say, rushed, because you don’t know how much time you have.
Seokjin looks at you evenly. ‘I have no interest in discussing my best friend with you.’
‘We don’t have to discuss him. I just want to make up for all of the things I’ve done to him over the years.’
Seokjin raises an eyebrow. You’ve always found him intimidating, if you’re honest.
‘Anyway, can you convince him to put himself up for auction at the Rose Ball next month?’
‘Why?’ Seokjin snaps. ‘So you can humiliate him again?’
Your hackles rise at his tone, but you remind yourself of your end goal. You’re not sure you can make Yoongi cuddly but you think you might be able to make him like you.
‘I won’t humiliate him,’ you say, humbly.
Seokjin glares at you. ‘I need more assurance than your word, funnily enough.’
You like how loyal Seokjin is to Yoongi, but he’s sure being an ass right now.
‘I’ll pay you.’
Seokjin frowns. ‘Do I look like I need the money?’
‘I’ll cook dinner for Yoongi and you,’ you offer.
He snorts.
‘Can you even cook?’
‘Jesus what do you want Seokjin?’
You stand, and immediately his bodyguard takes a protective step forward.
You throw your hands up in exasperation.
‘Yoongi really wants to go to watch the Portland Trail Blazers when they’re in town next month. It’s right before the Rose Ball. Take him and I’ll get him to auction himself off at the Rose Ball.’
You put out a hand, forgetting about the bodyguard for a moment.
You pull it back quickly when he steps in front of Seokjin.
‘Deal,’ you call happily over the bodyguard’s shoulder.
‘Wait.’
Seokjin steps out from behind the human wall and holds out his hand.
You shake it.
‘Don’t fuck me or Yoongi over,’ Seokjin warns.
‘I won’t,’ you promise.
***
Yoongi’s already home when you get back after work.
He’s dressed in basketball shorts, a sweatband around his forehead.
‘You look hot,’ you say, absently, as you search through your drawer in his dressing room for a loose tee.
‘Here,’ Yoongi says. He tosses you a plain tee, one of his own.
You put it to your face and inhale.
‘It’s fresh,’ Yoongi says, dryly.
‘It smells like you,’ you say. ‘I like it.’
You step out of your work clothes and pull it over your head.
‘I’m going to bed.’
You pause before you leave the dressing room. ‘Hey, Yoongi. I got tickets to the Portland trail blazers game next month. Wanna go together?’
Yoongi gapes at you.
‘You didn’t seriously just ask me out to a basketball game with my favourite team whilst wearing my t-shirt and nothing else.’
You hadn’t been thinking about anything naughty but you snap to attention at his words.
‘Are you still on your period?’ Yoongi asks.
He’s already rounding the central island in the middle of his dressing room, where he keeps his watches and jewellery.
He’s heading straight for you.
You squeak and retreat to the bed.
He’s a second behind you, landing right on you before you can even yank up the covers.
‘Let’s make out,’ he says, voice husky.
‘Yeah,’ you agree.
His lips are almost on yours when you stop him.
‘Do you still want to make out even if we don’t—‘ you trail off, and Yoongi looks at you oddly.
‘Fuck?’ he supplies, helpfully.
You nod.
‘Are you serious? What do you think I am? Some sort of brute?’
‘We usually just skip to the fucking,’ you point out.
Yoongi stares at you for so long you think he’s had a stroke.
Then he leans over and kisses your forehead.
Your eyes closed automatically when his lips touched you, so it takes you a moment to realise he’s pulling away.
‘I’ll see you at dinner,’ he says.
He’s out the door before you get a chance to say goodbye.
***
You’re trying to pick something to wear to the game with Yoongi. You’re not really a fan of basketball, not like he is. Your only knowledge of basketball consists of what you’ve gleaned from pictures of celebrities courtside and what you’ve seen in movies.
Once you’re dressed, you run downstairs to where Yoongi’s waiting.
‘They’re not courtside,’ you say, apologetic, as Yoongi drives.
‘You’ve said that a few times,’ Yoongi says mildly, signalling to turn.
‘I just don’t want you to be disappointed,’ you say.
‘I won’t be,’ Yoongi says.
‘I don’t know anything about basketball,’ you tell him.
Yoongi looks at you with such disappointment it feels like you need to seek his forgiveness for yet another thing.
‘I’m calling the best divorce lawyer in town right after this,’ Yoongi says. ‘But first, let’s watch the game.’
‘What? You’re divorcing me over a —- sport?’
‘Not helping the cause,’ Yoongi retorts.
You want to pout but you’re pretty sure he’ll just get annoyed with you.
Yoongi drives into a multi-storey car park and backs into a space so sexily you get a little wet just watching him.
He even does that thing where he rests his arm against your seat, as though it’s a habit he can’t break even though his car has a rear camera.
You want to hold hands with him as you walk to the arena, but you rarely ever touch when you’re not fucking.
Yoongi says, without looking at you, ‘what is it now?’
‘This is kind of like a date,’ you observe.
Yoongi sighs.
He’s never really indulged your fondness for romantic gestures, you guess he’s always seen them as childish.
‘It’s a date,’ he confirms. He leads you to your seats as though he knows the arena well.
You look around curiously. The seats aren’t courtside, but you’re only a couple of rows back, and the view seems fine to you.
‘Is this ok?’ you ask.
‘They’re perfect seats. Stop asking me or I’ll kiss you and ruin your lip gloss.’
‘This is kiss proof, actually,’ you say, seriously.
Yoongi turns fully to look at you. ‘Is that an invitation for me to test it out?’
‘Let’s just see how the date goes,’ you say, leaning back in your seat.
You can feel his eyes on you. He scoffs, but he doesn’t sound annoyed.
The game is an exciting one, but you spend it mainly watching Yoongi. He’s pretty even-tempered most of the time, but watching basketball really seems to get his blood going.
He cheers so loudly and enthusiastically you’re almost deafened. Once the game gets going he barely even seems to notice you.
You’re glad he’s enjoying himself.
At half time, you get him to take a selfie with you to send to Seokjin as proof.
You’ve just sent it when he leans over and kisses you on the cheek, quickly.
You turn to him, but he’s already turned away.
You think about the feel of his lips on your cheek for the rest of the game, and somehow the second half flies by.
Yoongi’s so hyped by the time the game ends that you keep smiling at how endearing he is.
‘I feel like you need to talk about this to someone who knows about basketball,’ you remark as you walk back to your car.
He grins at you. ‘I might stop by Seokjin’s place.’
‘Ah sure,’ you say, a little crestfallen that he doesn’t want to go home with you.
You fiddle with your phone, realising you don’t even know where Seokjin lives. ‘Is home on your way?’
‘I’ll drop you off,’ he says.
You’re quiet on the drive home. Yoongi pulls into your driveway and shuts the engine off.
‘Hey,’ he says.
You turn to him.
‘Thanks for getting us tickets. And thanks for coming with me.’
You smile. ‘It was Seokjin’s idea,’ you demur. ‘See you later, Yoongi.’
You get out of the car and are walking to the front entrance of your home when you hear the car door close behind you.
There’s footsteps, and by the time you turn, Yoongi’s standing in front of you, barely two feet away.
‘Hey,’ he says again. ‘Can I get a kiss goodnight?’
You reach into your brain for a snappy remark but come up with nothing.
All you can do is look up at him as he leans over you and kisses you. His tongue flicks at the seam of your lips, once, and then he’s pulling away.
He smooths your hair back from your face, tucking it behind your ear.
The action makes your heart flutter helplessly in your chest. He rarely ever touches you like this.
Yoongi rubs his thumb over your bottom lip, gently.
‘I’ll see you later. I’ll try not to wake you up when I get in.’
He waits, engine idling, until you’re safely indoors before he drives off.
***
You’re nervous. It’s the night of the Rose Ball, and the charity auction where you’re going to orchestrate the first stage of making up with Yoongi.
You’ve picked a red dress because of what he said about you looking pretty in red.
Yoongi knocks on your bedroom door, because you’d wanted to get ready alone.
You open the door and take in the vision of your husband in a white dinner jacket, hair pushed back from his forehead and styled beautifully.
There are silver earrings glinting in his ears, and his hair is currently silver to match.
‘You look very handsome,’ you tell him, honest.
He holds out his arm. ‘I think you’re wearing red on purpose to fuck with me, aren’t you? Quick, say something annoying so the universe can tilt back to its normal axis.’
Gamely, you pout at him and whine, ‘why didn’t you get me any new jewellery to wear, Yoongi?’
‘I’ve got some pearls I can put around your neck,’ Yoongi suggests.
‘I’d rather you put them down my throat,’ you say, suggestively.
‘There’s my spoiled little horny heiress,’ Yoongi says, approvingly.
You roll your eyes. ‘I’m not spoiled.’
‘Try saying that in a less whiny tone,’ Yoongi tells you unsympathetically.
‘I’m not whiny.’
‘I hope you saved up some money to buy Kim Seokjin again tonight,’ Yoongi says.
You frown.
‘I’m gonna buy you, not Seokjin.’
He snorts. ‘I hope you’re not expecting me to buy you.’
You pause. This is an angle you hadn’t even considered.
Yoongi raises an eyebrow, but says nothing.
At the ball, you read through the list of names up for auction. To your annoyance, Seokjin, Yoongi and you are all one after another, clustered together.
You think it’s an attempt to capitalise on the scandal of the previous time Seokjin and Yoongi were up for auction.
You’re nervous all throughout dinner, and by the time the auction starts you’re vibrating with nerves.
Seokjin stands when his name is announced, nodding at the emcee. Across the table from you, you can feel Yoongi’s eyes burning into your head.
The bidding starts at a cool 5 million won, and rapidly escalates.
Seokjin, devastatingly handsome in a beautiful tux that emphasizes the broadness of his chest and shoulders, doesn’t even have the decency to pretend to be surprised.
You look at Yoongi and keep your hands perfectly still in your lap.
‘50 million won, do I hear 55?’
It’s a relief when the bidding closes at 75 million won. You don’t even see who the highest bidder is, concentrating on your husband sitting across from you.
When Yoongi’s name is announced, he stands and nods.
You think to yourself again how beautiful your husband looks.
You keep up with the bids easily. To your annoyance, the bidding is fast and furious, and it’s only moments before you’re holding at 90 million won.
‘Do I hear 95?’
‘100 million won.’
You turn, aghast, and look into the diabolical and devious eyes of Kim Seokjin.
Why the hell is Kim Seokjin driving up the bidding war on your husband?
Yoongi just looks amused when you stare at him, accusing.
‘110 million,’ you snap.
You try to stare the evil bastard down between bids.
By the time you get to 150 million won, you’re glaring daggers at Seokjin and Yoongi.
‘Sold to Mrs Min.’
There’s barely time to breathe a sigh of relief before you realise Yoongi and Seokjin are now patting each other on the back.
To your chagrin, they leave the room as your name is announced.
As the bids escalate on you, you pull your phone out and send Yoongi a rapid fire text.
Y/N: Buy me or I won’t fuck you tonight.
Yoongi, the bastard, makes you wait on read.
You’re dialling his number when you realise two things.
One, that the bidding’s somehow reached a hundred million won.
And two, that the main bidder is a very beautiful man whom you’ve never met.
‘Going once….’
You squirm in your seat as Yoongi and Seokjin walk back into the room.
If there’s any urgency in Yoongi at all that his wife is about to be sold to a random stranger, his face doesn’t show it.
You suppose this is exactly how he felt when you let Mrs Kang buy him.
‘Going twice to Mr Park Jimin.’
Yoongi lifts a brow, and his eyes snap to the beautiful man.
He nods to the auctioneer, and bidding resumes.
Park Jimin seems pretty determined, but he’s no match for your husband.
Yoongi buys you for a shade under two hundred million won.
***
You’re trying to unfasten your necklace whilst Yoongi gets changed after the ball.
‘Two hundred million won,’ you say, teasingly. ‘Guess I’ll need to put out.’
Yoongi grunts, and a moment later he says, ‘lift your hair.’
You pull your hair away from the back of your neck and he unfastens your necklace for you.
‘You don’t need to do anything you don’t want to,’ he says.
Later, in bed, you’re lying awake next to Yoongi, thinking about the night.
‘Yoongi,’ you whisper.
He sounds like he’s stifling a groan. ‘What?’
‘Thanks for buying me.’
It’s so dark you can’t see any of his features.
Eventually, he says, ‘there was never a possibility that I wouldn’t.’
‘What?’ you ask, surprised. ‘Say that again.’
‘Good night, Y/N.’
***
You think that one of the things that irritated Yoongi the most about you when you first got married was your total lack of interest in getting to know his friends.
And so part two of making up with Yoongi involves Kim Namjoon.
He’s an interesting man, from what you know of him.
Like Yoongi and Seokjin, he comes from a privileged background. Unlike Yoongi and Seokjin, though, he’s not in the family business. He runs an art gallery in the city with his partner, Nayeon.
You’re apprehensive about approaching Namjoon at the gallery but you can’t think of any other way to meet him.
Seokjin’s less icy to you since you took Yoongi to watch basketball and since the successful completion of step 1, but there’s no way he’d voluntarily help you.
You push open the glass door and decide to just walk around.
Unlike Seokjin, Namjoon doesn’t make you wait.
You’re barely in the cool comfort of the gallery before he’s standing next to you.
‘To what do I owe this pleasure?’ he asks, politely.
You search his expression for hints of sarcasm, but he seems perfectly sincere.
To be fair, you’ve never tried to provoke him like you did Seokjin.
You decide to be as direct as he is.
‘I was hoping to invite you and Nayeon for dinner at ours,’ you say.
He doesn’t answer straight away.
‘I haven’t really tried to get to know Yoongi’s friends, since we’ve been married,’ you say, pointing out the obvious. ‘I’m trying to remedy that.’
Namjoon gives you a long look.
You wonder what Yoongi’s been saying about you to his friends.
Judging by how wary all his friends are around you, you don’t think he’s been singing your praises.
You’re just about to speak again, when Namjoon says, ‘Yoongi often comes to ours on a Sunday night for dinner. I’m sure Nayeon would be really pleased if you could make it with him this Sunday.’
You smile, grateful. ‘I’d love that.’
Namjoon gives you another long look, then a dimple flashes in his cheek.
It transforms his face, which up until now had been rather stern and intimidating.
‘I’ll see you Sunday.’
***
Yoongi’s watching you polish off the last of the bread at dinner, bemused.
You figure now’s as good a time as any to tell him about how you’ve invited yourself to dinner on Sunday.
He takes it in his stride.
‘I’ll try not to embarrass you,’ you say, jokingly.
‘Like when you sent my sexual health test results to my entire company?’ asks Yoongi.
You look down at your plate.
Shit, another thing you need to atone for.
‘Sorry about that,’ you tell him, contrite.
‘It’s fine,’ Yoongi says, rolling his eyes. ‘I became a meme for a few months, I can cope with that.’
You put your hand on his arm. ‘I really am sorry. Want a blow job?’
Yoongi rolls his eyes again. ‘Are we so emotionally stunted we can only communicate through sex?’
His tone is cutting.
You’ve been so soft for him lately that there’s a pang of hurt in your chest.
‘You’re a lot more tolerable when you’re fucking me,’ you say, coldly.
‘Likewise, princess,’ Yoongi snaps.
You get up from the table and go to watch TV alone in your rooms.
By the time you go in to Yoongi’s bedroom, it’s dark.
You slide in next to him and turn away, back facing him.
You hear a sigh, then his hand pats the sheets, looking for yours.
You tuck your hands between your legs.
Yoongi’s hand travels down your arm, seeking your hand.
His thumb brushes over your clit, and you let out a surprised ‘oh’.
Yoongi shifts over, spooning you, chest pressing against your back.
‘Can I touch you, princess?’ he asks, voice low. ‘I’ve been thinking about how you pouted at dinner and I’m so fucking hard.’
‘I don’t want to cum for you,’ you tell him, petulant.
Yoongi nibbles at your neck, sharp teeth sending shocks of pain and pleasure through you.
‘I’ll make you cum anyway, princess. Get you grinding against my hand and crying my name. You always sound so pretty for me.’
‘Yoongi,’ you murmur, but your legs are already spreading to make room for him.
‘That’s my girl,’ he says, fingers slipping through your slick heat like he hadn’t expected anything less. ‘Let me fuck the spoilt brat out of you until only my baby’s left, hmm?’
Yoongi talks dirty to you until you’re creaming around his fingers, then his cock.
***
Yoongi looks up from his phone and gives you a quelling look.
‘Stop fidgeting.’
You hug the bottle of wine you’re bringing to Nayeon and Namjoon’s place to your chest.
‘Who else is going to be there?’ you ask.
‘Usually it’s Seokjin and me. Sometimes Gyuri comes.’
You think about that and wish, childishly, that you’d chosen a nicer outfit.
You realise Yoongi’s watching your face.
‘I appreciate you wanting to meet my friends,’ he says, carefully.
‘Oh it’s about time I made an effort, don’t you think?’
Yoongi gives you a long look and rings the doorbell.
You’re greeted by a relaxed-looking Nayeon.
You don’t know her well, but she’s always struck you as nice. You feel an odd pang as you see the affectionate way Yoongi greets her.
Here’s a whole other aspect of his life you’ve never been involved in.
You volunteer to help Namjoon cook the rice. To your bemusement, he’s frighteningly accident-prone.
Within five minutes, you’ve saved him from putting his hand on a hot pan twice. You shudder when you see him pick up a knife to chop vegetables.
Nayeon nudges you. ‘Don’t worry. He’s not too bad. Someone always keeps an eye on him.’
‘Like a toddler,’ you mutter, then you remember where you are.
Nayeon just laughs. ‘I think of it as he’s still getting used to his size.’
You laugh. ‘Let’s hope he doesn’t get any bigger then.’
You look up as Seokjin enters the kitchen with Yoongi.
Your eyes meet Seokjin’s. He nods coolly at you.
You smile back.
To your surprise, Yoongi claps a hand on Seokjin’s back.
‘Yah, Jin, greet my wife properly.’
Seokjin pulls Nayeon into a hug, then stops just in front of you.
You put out a hand for him to shake, and instead, he pulls you into a hug too.
You look up at him, a little wary.
‘Don’t you need your bodyguard?’ you ask, unable to resist.
Seokjin narrows his eyes at you. ‘I’m watching you, brat,’ he replies, so softly only you can hear.
‘And Yoongi’s watching you,’ you return, snarky.
Seokjin’s eyes darken. ‘Clearly Yoongi’s too soft on you, given your attitude.’
‘Break it up,’ Yoongi’s voice says from behind Seokjin.
You slide around Seokjin and stand next to Yoongi. When Yoongi turns to talk to Nayeon, you flip Seokjin the bird.
He glares daggers at you but has to quickly rearrange his expression when Yoongi and Nayeon ask him a question.
You’re so busy fielding all the interactions that it’s a relief to sit down to dinner.
Ah shit.
There are prawns in the broth, the one thing in the world you’re allergic to.
It’s your own fault. Early on in your marriage, for reasons known only to you, you’d decided to let Yoongi think you were a snob about seafood rather than just telling him you were allergic. Cue a very uncomfortable dinner when you’d refused to eat anything one of his chef friends had cooked.
Seokjin, next to you, looks at your untouched bowl pointedly. ‘Don’t you like it?’ he asks, voice so velvety it’s not immediately obvious he’s jeering at you.
You grit your teeth and pray the epi-pen in your bag is in date.
It’ll probably be fine, unless you have a whole prawn….
As if on cue, Yoongi hands you a prawn he’s just peeled.
You’d always thought Yoongi would be the death of you, but you’d thought the mechanism would be from hate fucking you into oblivion, or irritating you into apoplexy.
Not a fucking prawn that he’s peeled for you because he’s decided to be a solicitous husband for once in his life.
You can feel a few eyes on you.
‘Oh that looks delicious,’ you chirrup brightly. You accept the prawn, swallow it quickly, wait a beat, then excuse yourself.
You grab your bag on the way to the bathroom, fumbling for your epi-pen.
You jab it into your thigh just as the familiar tingling starts in your throat.
The door opens, and you’re faced with Yoongi, staring at you.
‘What the hell are you doing?’ he hisses.
He grabs the epi-pen you’ve just dropped on the floor.
‘Are you shooting up in my friends’ house?’ he snaps.
You shake your head, voice raspy.
‘I’m allergic to prawns.’
Yoongi stares at you like he can’t quite believe his ears.
‘What?’
You want to repeat yourself but your voice is getting hoarser.
Yoongi seems to click into action then. ‘Fuck. Do you need the hospital?’
You nod.
Moving faster than you’ve ever seen him, Yoongi grabs your arm and hustles you out of the bathroom.
He scolds you all the way to the hospital.
‘You’re an idiot, you know that? Why would you eat something you know you’re this allergic to?’
Two blocks away.
‘Why couldn’t you just tell me? Of all the stupid stunts you’ve pulled—‘
At the entrance of the emergency room.
‘If you die from this I’m going to follow you into the afterlife and kill you again.’
You’d snap back if he didn’t sound more worried than angry.
Yoongi sits beside your bed, filling in a form on a tablet with your details. You can see him typing in your name.
You grab his arm. ‘Not my name,’ you rasp.
Yoongi frowns at you. You fumble in your bag and pass him your driver’s license.
He looks at it for a long moment.
‘You changed your name? You said —-‘
He cuts himself off with visible effort. You can see a vein throbbing in his forehead.
He fills in the rest of the form, swearing softly under his breath.
You close your eyes and lose yourself to nightmares about prawns.
When you wake up, Yoongi’s sitting by your bed.
You say his name.
He runs a hand over his face. ‘How are you feeling, princess?’
‘I’m fine. Can we go home?’
‘They want to keep you in a little longer.’
You sigh.
‘Why didn’t you tell me you were allergic to prawns?’ Yoongi asks.
He sighs. ‘That time, with Mingyu, when he made us all that food. I thought you were being such a bitch.’
‘I am a bitch,’ you say. ‘I hated you back then. I hated our marriage and I hated that it felt like I didn’t have any choice in anything.’
‘And so you decide to die because I fucking peeled you a prawn?’
‘Why did you do that? You always say if you can’t peel a prawn you don’t deserve to eat it.’
‘Jesus fucking christ. I just wanted to.’
‘What a time to choose to be the doting husband,’ you say, regretfully.
Yoongi snorts with laughter. ‘Are you allergic to anything else I need to know about?’
‘Assholes,’ you mutter. ‘That’s why Seokjin and I don’t get along.’
Yoongi laughs again. ‘You’re such a rude brat. He won’t stop calling me. He wants to apologise for putting pressure on you to have the broth.’
‘Nayeon and Namjoon want to know if you’re ok, too.’
‘Tell them I’m fine.’
‘Here,’ Yoongi says. ‘I’ll add you to the group chat and you can tell them yourself.’
You send off a few texts and put your phone down.
‘I need to call my lawyer,’ Yoongi says, running a hand through his hair.
‘You’re divorcing me over a prawn allergy?’
‘No,’ says Yoongi, patient. ‘Now that I know your real name, I need to get it changed in my will and also on all the properties I’ve invested in for you.’
‘Ooh, I’m in your will?’ you ask, intrigued. ‘What do I get?’
‘None of your business,’ Yoongi says.
You wave a hand threateningly. ‘I could kill you right now and find out.’
Yoongi fends you off easily. ‘You should be resting.’
‘We could be arguing about this at home,’ you point out.
By the time you’re discharged from the hospital, it’s the early hours of the morning.
When you get home, you’re greeted by Mrs Gye.
‘I took care of it,’ she tells Yoongi.
Yoongi nods and thanks her.
‘Took care of what?’
‘Mr Min rang earlier and told us to get rid of all the prawns in the kitchen and pantry,’ Mrs Gye says. She’s apologetic. ‘We didn’t know you were allergic, Mrs Min.’
You glance at Yoongi, who’s slipping off his shoes.
‘You didn’t have to —‘
He cuts you off. ‘It’s a risk I’d prefer not to take again.’
He starts up the stairs, heading for his bedroom. ‘I’m going to try and get some sleep.’
You hurry after him, because he’s not waiting for you.
***
You’re coming out of your meeting with the manager of the third country club you got Yoongi blacklisted from when you spot a familiar face.
A familiar, beautiful but unwanted face.
‘Seokjin,’ you say, nodding politely.
He leans down, and automatically you present your cheek to him for a kiss.
‘How are you doing?’ he asks, courteously.
You narrow your eyes at him suspiciously. ‘I’m fine. And yourself?’
To your astonishment, he actually seems to be a little shamefaced as he says, ‘I’m sorry I urged you to have the broth at Namjoon and Nayeon’s the other day.’
‘It’s fine, you couldn’t have known,’ you say, neutrally.
‘What are you doing here?’
It’s your turn to look repentant.
‘I got Yoongi blacklisted from all the country clubs. I’m getting him re-invited to all of them.’
Seokjin’s gaze is penetrating.
‘You seem like you’re really trying to make amends,’ he observes.
‘Yeah well, I was, like you keep pointing out to me, a brat.’
He’s been walking with you to the lobby.
‘Can I offer you a lift anywhere?’ he asks.
‘Ah, I’ll just wait for a cab.’
He raises an eyebrow. ‘Doesn’t Yoongi have a driver?’
‘He does. I don’t.’
Seokjin nods to the car waiting for him. ‘Do you have other country clubs to go to?’
‘I have four left,’ you say.
Seokjin looks at you in firm way he does. ‘Come on. I’ll take you.’
You climb into the back seat with Seokjin.
‘You’re not taking me somewhere to murder me and dispose of my body, are you?’ you ask, only half-joking.
Seokjin settles back in his seat and loosens his tie.
‘I’ve got the afternoon off, and I’d prefer not to commit murder during it,’ he says, not reassuringly.
With Seokjin by your side, the next meeting is almost enjoyable. You even get offered champagne, which you gulp down.
Seokjin looks at you, amused. ‘Stressful day for you?’
‘You make me nervous,’ you admit.
‘I just don’t want Yoongi to be hurt anymore.’
You digest the idea that Yoongi wasn’t just inconvenienced and embarrassed, but actually hurt by your actions of the last few years.
That would imply he cared.
You’re staring out the window, thinking, when Seokjin says. ‘Of course, he didn’t want to marry you either, at the beginning.’
You chew on your lip.
‘But he was willing to make his best effort to be a good husband to you. He’s decent like that.’
You turn your head so Seokjin can’t see your face.
He’s not wrong. Yoongi’s never once retaliated for anything you’ve done to him.
Instead he’d grown progressively more cold and impatient and distant.
The wave of guilt surprises you with its depth.
‘I’ll make it up to him,’ you say, quietly.
Seokjin puts his hand on your arm so you’ll look at him.
‘He has a real soft spot for you,’ he tells you. ‘God knows why, I would have punished you long ago.’
You flick your eyes up at him. ‘Luckily I married a more forgiving man than you,’ you say, summoning your haughtiest tone.
Seokjin just laughs. ‘We both want the best for him,’ he says. ‘Maybe you’re not such a cold hearted bitch after all.’
‘Don’t get ahead of yourself. We aren’t friends,’ you sneer, out of habit.
Seokjin turns away and laughs quietly to himself.
At your next meeting, Seokjin gets whiskey served to you.
You’re a total lightweight, and with your empty stomach, you know you’re heading to a danger zone.
But damn, it’s also intoxicating having polished, suave Seokjin by your side at these meetings with older men.
It’s after your final meeting, three drinks later, that Seokjin says, ‘dinner?’
You hold on to his arm to steady yourself.
‘Maybe we can have dinner at mine,’ you suggest.
‘Great idea,’ Seokjin beams. ‘I love Mrs Gye’s cooking.’
You never actually make it inside the house.
Yoongi finds you and Seokjin sprawled on the front steps, arguing about which country club offered the best membership package.
You slap a brochure onto the steps between you.
‘This was clearly the best deal,’ you announce. You squint but it doesn’t make the words any clearer.
Seokjin sweeps the brochure away dramatically.
‘Wasn’t.’
‘Wassss.’
Yoongi says, dryly, ‘why do people who can’t handle their alcohol go drinking?’
Both you and Seokjin glare at each other, then at him.
Yoongi sighs. ‘I can’t carry both of you at once.’
‘Take the asshole first,’ you snap.
Seokjin leans towards you menacingly. ‘What did you call me?’
Yoongi hurriedly lifts you up under the arms, and you curl into his chest.
‘Take me to bed, Yoongi,’ you say, looking up at him.
‘You’re heavier than you look,’ Yoongi grunts.
‘It’s my brain,’ you say, trying be helpful.
Seokjin snorts rudely behind you.
Yoongi says, voice low, rumbling in his chest, ‘ignore him.’
You press a kiss to Yoongi’s chest. ‘Sorry I’m so heavy.’
He smiles at you with that looks like affection.
‘It’s fine. I’ll just drop you if it’s too much for me.’
Yoongi helps you into bed and unzips your dress.
‘Can you do the rest so I can get Seokjin?’ he asks.
You nod, convincingly. You’re still trying to tug your arm out of the sleeve when you give up and pass out.
Yoongi helps Seokjin into your bed and returns to his room to find you sprawled exactly where he left you, half undressed.
He slips your dress off you. You crack an eye open.
‘Yoongi,’ you say, whiny.
Yoongi replies, ‘yes?’
‘I just want you to like me,’ you say. For a moment you look completely lucid, and sad.
His heart gives a dangerous jolt then, like somehow, you’ve worked your way into it. Like a household pest.
Yoongi can’t bear the thought of exterminating you.
‘Stop being so annoying then,’ Yoongi says, trying to be stern but it comes out weak. He’s not even convincing himself at this point.
You put your hand over your heart. ‘I’ll try my best,’ you promise.
***
At breakfast, Yoongi frowns at his phone.
‘Why am I getting invited to become a member of every country club in the vicinity?’
Seokjin, dressed in Yoongi’s clothes, mumbles something unintelligible into his cereal.
You look up from your pancakes and through your sunglasses at your husband.
‘I got you blacklisted from every single country club in the area when we first got married, so I spent yesterday getting you reinvited.’
You point your fork at Seokjin and say, grudgingly, ‘Seokjin helped.’
Seokjin sips his juice.
‘Why did we drink so much?’ he asks.
‘You’re the one that kept asking for drinks,’ you point out.
Yoongi holds up a hand between you to break you up.
‘Why?’ he asks.
‘I’m making up for being awful to you,’ you tell him.
Yoongi frowns. ‘Is that why you’ve been so erratic lately?’
You’re offended. ‘I’m not erratic.’
‘Taking me to that basketball game? Buying me at the auction? Dinner at Namjoon and Nayeon’s?’ Yoongi asks.
‘Riding you in the shower yesterday,’ you add.
Seokjin covers his ears.
‘I’m being nice,’ you say.
Yoongi says, ‘I appreciate your efforts, but you don’t have to make anything up to me.’
‘She does,’ Seokjin interjects.
You toss a pancake at him.
Yoongi rolls his eyes.
‘We’ll talk later,’ he says to you.
‘I don’t know why he’s still here,’ you say to Yoongi, like Seokjin’s not in the room.
Yoongi pushes your coffee towards you. ‘Drink. Finish your breakfast. Seokjin and I have a meeting to get to. Let’s talk later.’
‘I have a surprise for you tonight,’ you say, remembering.
Yoongi leans down to kiss your cheek.
‘I don’t like surprises.’
‘You’ll like this one,’ you promise.
***
You once sent a troupe of strippers to put on a show at an important business meeting Yoongi had organised with a notoriously conservative client.
The deal had fallen through despite months of preparation and expense.
It was then that Yoongi had finally snapped and called you a cold hearted bitch for the first time.
You’d thought long and hard about how to make this up to him, and you don’t know enough about his company to source an equivalent deal.
You’re hoping dancing for him in the red teddy he got you will help.
You’re not a bad dancer, and you’ve been taking lessons for weeks, enough that you’re pretty confident you can pull it off.
You’ve hired a room in an underground sex club, hoping the gritty feel will add to the thrill of it.
Yoongi raises his eyebrows when you lead him through the private entrance off the street, down a flight of stairs, to a darkened corridor.
You lift the keycard out of your thigh-high stockings and unlock the door.
You’d shared a bottle of wine at dinner, and you’re feeling good.
There’s a chair in the middle of the room, like you’d specified. The lights are off apart from a blue glow. It’s dark enough to lend a sense of intimacy, but light enough that you can see Yoongi’s gorgeous face clearly.
God, your husband looks beautiful tonight, all in black, his lips stained from the wine.
He leans back on the chair, legs spread, watching you.
The one thing you’ve always liked about Yoongi that he knows when to keep his mouth shut.
His lips part as you turn in front of him and unzip your dress. It puddles on the floor in a shimmering heap.
You hit play on the music and start dancing.
Yoongi’s gaze focuses intensely on you as you dance for him. You put your legs on his thighs, pushing them apart to make space for yourself as you shimmy between them.
Your ass brushes his crotch, deliberately, lingering longer and longer with each pass until you’re grinding against him.
Yoongi, like a seasoned strip club connoisseur, keeps his hands to himself, braced on his thighs.
You turn so you’re facing him, leaning forward to encourage him to look down the top of your silky teddy. Your nipples are stiff, pushing against the silk, and you put two fingers in his mouth.
He needs no prompting, sucking on your fingers, tongue delving between them suggestively.
You put a hand on his shoulder and run your wet fingers over your nipples.
Yoongi grunts, eyes fixed on your tits.
You slide your hand down between your legs and lean over him to whisper in his ear.
‘I’m imagining your fingers here, Yoongi,’ you purr, gratified by how you can see his skin prickling with goosebumps.
Yoongi licks his lips. His voice, when it comes out, is so deep you’re wet just listening to him.
‘You know you really fuck me off sometimes,’ he says.
For the first time since you started dancing for him, you falter.
You look at him uncertainly.
His hand comes out, landing on your silk-covered hip, long fingers splaying over your ass.
‘I think it’s your face,’ he muses, almost like he’s talking to himself. ‘Your face is so fucking bratty I want to shove my dick in your mouth just to shut you up.’
He pulls you down so you’re sitting in his lap, straddling him.
He cups your jaw, pulling your face closer to his. His thumb traces over your bottom lip, teasing at the seam of your lips until your lips part enough for him to slip his thumb in.
Automatically, you suck.
‘There,’ Yoongi says. ‘You always look so pretty with me in your mouth.’
You can’t help yourself. You whimper around his thumb.
‘I like this even more though,’ he says.
Eyes on you, he moves his hand down your hip, cupping you between your legs, parted on his lap.
Like this, you’re spread out on top of him.
Yoongi hisses as he feels how slick you are. He teases at your clit, one finger slipping into you.
You say his name. God, he feels good.
He curls his finger, and you whimper again.
‘Your little pussy knows it belongs to me,’ he says, almost conversational, as he strokes your clit.
He presses an open-mouthed kiss to your breast as he fingers you, tongue laving the red silk.
You slip a strap down your shoulder so your breast is exposed, nipple taut for him.
‘Do it properly, Yoongi,’ you whine.
Yoongi laughs darkly. ‘Where’s your manners, baby?’
Your mouth snaps closed, lips thinning into a straight line. Your eyes flash at him.
Yoongi’s looking at you.
‘There you are,’ he says, but oddly, there’s affection in his voice.
He tilts his head to slant his mouth over yours in a slow kiss at the same time his fingers start scissoring inside you.
He smells so good. He pulls away and leans his forehead against yours.
‘I kiss you all the time, brat, how could you say we skip straight to the fucking?’
You’re hazy with pleasure, his fingers haven’t stopped moving inside you, and he always seems to go unerringly to the spot that makes you cry out his name and beg for more.
You’re begging now.
‘Yoongi,’ you moan.
‘Who fucks you like this, brat?’ he hisses.
‘You,’ you answer, ‘please, Yoongi.’
‘That’s right,’ he says. ‘That’s fucking right.’
You’re grinding against his hand now, each movement making you flutter around his fingers. You’re so close you can taste it, chasing your high.
Yoongi pulls his fingers out, and you cry out.
‘Yoongi!’
‘Cum on my cock, let me feel you.’
You fumble with the zipper on his pants, and he hisses as you draw him out.
He grabs your hips and sinks you down onto his cock.
Fuck, he’s so thick and hot you could cum even if he stayed perfectly still.
Yoongi shudders. ‘Fuck. Fuck. Feel me, baby? You get me so hard for you it hurts.’
Your eyes are squeezed shut, concentrating on the feel of him.
‘So fucking tight for me, shit.’
You’re already starting to tighten around his cock when he slaps your thigh. ‘Go on, this is what you wanted isn’t it? Fucking take it, baby.’
His voice is low, slurred, pupils blown all the way.
He’s rude as fuck, and you’re about to cum your brains out thinking about it.
Only Min Yoongi could do this to you.
He knows it. His breathing is ragged, but he somehow has the presence of mind to say, ‘fuck. Does my baby want tenderness too?’
His lips press against yours, he slides his tongue into your mouth, and he cradles the back of your head, fingers tangling in your hair.
‘Fucking cum for me,’ he murmurs.
You slam your hips against his again, and finally, finally, you cum.
You curl into his chest, and he’s there, mouth on your hair.
‘You did so well,’ he tells you. ‘Waving that ass in the air for me, shit. Wearing this. You’re gonna need to do this again.’
‘I want to be good for you,’ you say.
Yoongi tilts your face so you’ll look at him.
‘Why? I’m a cold bastard most of the time.’
‘You have a nice cock,’ you offer.
Yoongi laughs. ‘You can have my cock anytime. It’s all yours.’
‘Oh are we exclusive now?’ you tease.
‘I’m wearing your ring around my finger,’ Yoongi reminds you, showing you his hand.
You tilt your head, pretending to think about it.
‘I’ll get you another ring to put around your cock.’
Yoongi grins and slaps your ass, gently. ‘Come on, get dressed. I want to get into bed with you. It’s my favourite part of the day.’
You want to ask if he really means that, but he’s already opening the door.
***
Yoongi looks pretty sexy when he’s concentrating, you decide.
You’ve graduated from sleeping together to also spending time together in his study sometimes in the evenings.
You’re trying to concentrate on reading a brief your social media manager prepared for you, but really your husband who isn’t doing anything other than frowning at his work, is distracting you.
Yoongi glances at you. ‘Need help with anything?’
You hum.
He walks around his desk to stand next to you.
‘What are you working on?’
You show him your brief. ‘Just prepping for a meeting tomorrow.’
Yoongi looks like he’s concentrating again, reading over your shoulder.
‘I’ve got it, Yoongi,’ you tell him.
He glances at you.
‘I didn’t say you didn’t.’
You try to ignore the flare of irritation as Yoongi walks back to his desk.
You know Yoongi has a sharp intellect and great business instincts. He’s earned every bit of his impressive reputation.
You’d be a fool to turn down his help.
Maybe you are a fool. But you don’t want him to see you as the impulsive devil-may-care hellion he married. You want to show him that you, too, have earned your right for respect in your role.
You chew on that for a bit, and finally, sighing, give up and go to bed.
You guess it’s going to take a bit longer to change Yoongi’s perception of you.
***
You got up to a lot of shenanigans on your honeymoon with Yoongi.
You were drunk for a lot of it, so you don’t remember much, but the bits you do remember are all bad.
You’d started drinking on the plane and spent the first night throwing up in the hotel bathroom.
And the second. Possibly the third.
You’d straight up disappeared after breakfast one day and had spent a day wandering the city on your own.
You’d also refused to sleep with him, claiming you were being treated for gonorrhoea. You’d accused him of giving it to you, which was how you’d ended up getting your hands on his test results to send to his company.
At least this is an easy thing to make up to Yoongi.
You couldn’t possibly make it a worse experience.
You’ve organised a weekend away with him, in a rustic little cabin by the lakes.
It works on many levels. The cabin’s a fair drive away, which means you get to watch your husband drive sexily. You think Yoongi likes nature, and you envisage doing a bit of paddling, maybe some fishing.
Also, the isolation of the cabin means you won’t get any noise complaints, important because you intend on fucking Yoongi constantly this weekend.
You’re still congratulating yourself on your genius when Yoongi wakes up the morning you’re due to leave.
You’ve been awake for hours.
The smile you turn on him is so bright he grimaces.
Ah. You keep forgetting he’s not a morning person. Also you have no idea what time he got in last night.
You scurry out of bed to grab him a coffee and promptly trip over his slippers.
Yoongi swears behind you. ‘Why do you keep falling over my slippers? They’re in the same place every time.’
‘Maybe you shouldn’t leave them there,’ you retort, hurt.
Then you remember you’re on your best behaviour.
You bite your tongue and go to grab him a coffee.
When you get back, he’s on his back, staring at the ceiling.
‘Got you coffee,’ you say, holding out his mug.
He accepts with a gravelly ‘thanks.’
You’re brushing your teeth when he says, ‘there’s been a supply problem with the new line we’re launching. I may need to spend time this weekend on the phone.’
‘That’s fine,’ you say, brightly. You’re determined not to let anything mar your new honeymoon weekend.
Yoongi says, gently, ‘is there any way we could reschedule?’
You stare at him. ‘Do you not want to go?’
The words are out before you get a chance to think them over. You could kick yourself at the neediness in your tone.
Yoongi says, ‘of course I want to go, I just don’t want you to be disappointed.’
You’re starting to wonder if he’s trying to tell you he doesn’t want to go.
‘I won’t be disappointed,’ you say, watching his face carefully.
Yoongi smiles at you. ‘Then let’s set off after breakfast.’
Yoongi’s quiet as he’s driving, and you notice how tired he looks. You’re just about to suggest he pulls over to let you drive when he says, ‘something on my face?’
‘You look tired,’ you say.
‘I am tired,’ he tells you. He smiles at you, faintly. ‘This upcoming collaboration with Novatech will be the biggest, most high-stakes project I’ve started since I took over from my father. I can’t afford for it to fail.’
‘Why would it fail?’ you ask.
‘There are a lot of moving parts,’ Yoongi says, vaguely.
‘I’m sure it’ll be a roaring success,’ you say, faith firmly in your capable, successful husband.
Yoongi says, ‘just don’t try to sabotage me.’
You say, earnestly, ‘those days are behind me.’
‘It’s a shame,’ Yoongi says, ‘I’m going to miss spanking you for misbehaving.’
That reminds you.
‘You can spank me anytime,’ you tell Yoongi. ‘Also, check out these new panties I bought.’
Yoongi glances at you and nearly swerves off the road.
‘Are you wearing crotchless panties?’ he asks, and he looks intrigued and flustered all at once.
‘It’s called an ouvert,’ you explain. ‘That’s French for open.’
Yoongi mutters something to himself you don’t quite catch.
‘What did you say?’ you ask, sweet as pie.
‘I said, your fucking pussy is going to kill me,’ Yoongi says.
He gives you a half smile, lazy, devastating.
‘I can’t think of a better way to go.’
***
Yoongi’s phone rings the moment you step into the cabin.
You wonder if you should have plumped for somewhere more rustic with no cell reception.
You unpack half-heartedly, watching from the window as he paces around outside the cabin.
He rubs a hand over his forehead, looking more stressed and tired than you’ve ever seen him.
Maybe he’s been stressed like this before but you haven’t been paying attention.
You come out to bring him a glass of water.
He smiles at you, still on his phone.
You flash him your ass and glance back to see if he’s watching.
He isn’t.
When Yoongi’s done on the phone you grab him.
‘Want to go for a walk? I’ll protect you from the wolves.’
‘I am the wolf,’ Yoongi says, but it’s half hearted.
‘Hey, why don’t you take a break. I’ll rub your back.’
Yoongi perks up at your suggestion, and it’s the most animated you’ve seen him all day.
You get him to lay on the bed just in his briefs.
You wonder if you’ll ever get used to how beautiful his body is.
You put your hands on his shoulders and knead, and his deep groan makes you feel good in so many ways.
You can feel Yoongi’s muscles relax as you massage over his shoulders and down his back. When you get to his legs he twitches a little like he’s falling asleep.
By the time you get to his feet he’s dead asleep.
You cover him with a blanket and a kiss and head out for a walk.
When you get back he’s still asleep, so you make a space for yourself next to him and join him.
You’re awakened by Yoongi’s hand on your shoulder.
‘Hey, I made dinner for us.’
You blink, disoriented. ‘What time is it?’
‘It’s late. Come on. We’ll sleep better when we’re full.’
Yoongi’s made ram-don. You sigh happily as you sit down in front of the steaming bowl. Instead of sitting across from you, Yoongi slides in next to you.
His thigh nudges yours. He puts his free hand on your thigh.
You look at him curiously.
Yoongi says, ‘eat.’
The noodles are delicious, but you find you’re enjoying Yoongi’s hand on your thigh just as much.
You put your hand on his, and smile at him as he knits your fingers together.
It’s sweet, and silly, and something you wouldn’t expect from your normally brisk, impatient husband.
Yoongi watches you finish your noodles, enjoying the warmth of your thigh and hand. He shifts a little, because he’s quite sure he shouldn’t have a raging hard-on from doing something as innocent as holding your hand.
You’re smiling at him so happily. If Yoongi’d known that holding your hand would be enough to make you smile like that he’d have tried to hold hands with you this whole time.
You’re finished with your late dinner. Yoongi stops you when you get up to start clearing up.
‘Let me do it. Why don’t we watch a movie? You set it up and I’ll clear up here.’
By the time Yoongi finishes clearing up, you’re ensconced on the couch, so covered in blankets he can barely see you. The lights are low, the TV on playing some movie Yoongi knows he’s not going to get into.
He’d rather watch you.
He slides in next to you and holds out his arm.
You look at him like you’ve never been invited to snuggle before.
To be fair, Yoongi doesn’t think you’ve ever done this together.
He lowers his arm like he’s changed his mind, and you’re next to him so quickly he has to bite back a smile.
You rest your head in the curve between his neck and shoulder, cheek on his chest.
Your hand flutters over his torso, finally landing on his stomach. You turn in, nose against his chest, breathing him in.
It’s adorable. You’re adorable.
Yoongi wants to fight dragons for you.
He leans down and sniffs your hair as quietly as he can.
Your breathing is easy, slow, and Yoongi realises you’ve fallen asleep when you go boneless in his arms.
He wonders if you know how much he’s prepared to do for you if you ever asked.
→ Rating: mature/explicit (this is mature/explicit content, so you have been warned. fingering, vibrator, car sex, kissing, dirty talk, mafia, forbidden romance, +21.)
“Is it hitting that sweet spot, baby?” he taunted.
“Mmm, yes,” she nodded.
It’s been a week. Seven long days since he had last seen her. Seven days since he had her gasping and moaning. Yoongi had gone to see Hoseok about affairs at the Jung family manor in the city, but even then he and y/n had not spoken. He barely caught a glimpse of her each time during his visits.
Yoongi and Hoseok would sit in the study, the door would be cracked open just enough to see if anyone was approaching. First, he would catch her perfume swim in the air, and just as he would turn his head, all he saw was her shadow. She would disappear like a ghost.
Min Yoongi sat in the far back of his bar. The chandeliers hung from the tall ceiling, the bar was stocked with liquor from all over the world, and a live band kept the customers engaged.
He raised his glass of whiskey. The burn felt good running down his throat. But then he noticed a group of women sitting around a table in the font by the stage. The one with a tiara on her raven hair had her eyes locked on him. Her friends giggled around her and whispered amongst themselves. Clearly they fed their birthday girl the delusion that all she needed to do was smile and bat her lashes.
Two years ago such boring tricks would have worked on him. Not because he fell for tricks like a foolish schoolboy. But because he was a soldier back then. An heir, yes, but still, a soldier in the ranks. He would go for someone like the birthday girl. They wanted one thing, and so did he. He never took woman home to his penthouse. It was always a hotel. Sometimes he would bring two girls.
But now he did not have the time to take someone out to dinner on a Friday night, and then shopping the next day just so they wouldn’t complain. That was a headache, and Min Yoongi had more than enough of that from the life he now lived.
The woman with the tiara reached for her Mojito, her slender fingers closed around the glass as she raised it and placed the straw between her red lips.
Yoongi did not take his eyes off of her. Her friend on the of her arm nudged her gently. She looked down at the table with a soft smile before looking back up at him. Her eyes were plain – boring. There was nothing that made him want to bend her over.
But then, birthday girl’s smile faded.
Y/n sat in the empty chair on the right of him. Her long hair fell past her waist in soft curls, she wore a white and blue, floral print, maxi dress – the ones of a cottage core aesthetic with a square neckline. The dress had a tie at the bust, holding the dress in place and a side slit just below the thigh.
Min Yoongi arched a brow. “Well, I was not expecting you,” he leaned back in his chair. A smirk began to form in the corner of his perfect mouth. “I’m gonna guess that this isn’t a coincidence?”
Y/n reached for the menu and looked at the list. “It’s not a coincidence,” she replied was nonchalant. Like she did not care that she knew his business. “I overheard you and Hoseok talking earlier on the phone. You told him you would be here.”
“Eavesdropping again?”
“I was walking by,” she shook her head. “I could help but overhear.”
Y/n placed the menu down on the table and sighed softly. Like she did not care that she had been caught. Yoongi looked to the bar, and a server walked towards them.
“Yes, Mr. Min?”
Yoongi was good to all his employees at the bar. He was taught that having a friend instead of a boss like him would make their enemies become his enemies and then they would be feared.
“Miss Jung Y/n will have a Mojito,” he said.
Y/n smiled sweetly as she rested her arms on the table. “A whiskey please,” she ordered politely.
The server smiled, charmed by her politeness. She nodded and walked towards the bar. Usually the Women they saw their boss with were rude, bitchy and lacked manners. They were employees, not servants, and y/n understood that.
“You don’t strike me as a whiskey drinker.”
Y/n tilted her head, her sweet smile still there. “Wae?” she asked. “Is that the drink you order for your Brainless Dolls?”
“Brainless Dolls?” The corner of his mouth twitched softly. “Is that who you think I spend my time with?”
“I assume that’s how you like them,” she flipped her hair over her should and leaned back in her chair. “Quiet. A man like you does not want a conversation at three in the morning. You want a place to put your stress away. Someone who will not dare to ask where the blood on your cufflink came from."
The server returned, placing her whiskey and his refill on the table. She lingered for a second, her eyes darting between them, before she bowed and vanished.
"You're a provocation," he said. “But I’ll play your game.” He raised his glass, swirling the amber liquid before taking a slow sip. "So, did you come here to stalk me,” he asked. “Or did you just miss the way I fucked you senseless last week?"
Yoongi watched her cheeks flush red, but she did not flinch. Instead, she mirrored him, raising her own glass to her lips. She drank before speaking. "Maybe both,” her voice was smooth and soft. “But mostly, I wanted to see if you’d run from me again."
Yoongi exhaled a laugh. "I don’t run from anything,” he said. “I do avoid complications, and you, sweetheart are just that."
Y/n tilted her head. "And yet," she murmured. "Here you are, sitting across from me, watching me drink whiskey like you’re trying to memorize the way my throat moves each time I swallow."
His jaw flexed because she was right. “The last time we stretched this game you ended up on your knees,” he said. “Are you here for another round, or are you just here to tease?"
"Depends," Y/n smiled, softly. "Are you brave enough to find out?"
She reached inside her small bag and pulled out a small, sleek device. It looked like a matte black car key with a few buttons on the face. She didn’t explain why she took out. Instead, she slid it across the polished table until it tapped against the base of his whiskey glass.
Yoongi reached for the key and his head dipped to the side as he looked at the buttons. Car keys had buttons to lock and unlock the car doors, to silence the car when the sensors went off, and to unlock and lock the boot. But this one had three buttons going down the center. The top one was an on and off button, the middle one had a ‘+’ sign and the bottom one had the ‘-’ sign.
His thumb hovering over the on and off button, but his eyes were locked on her. He hoped she would change her mind. He hoped she would tell him to return it, but instead her chin dipped, her eyes narrowed – sharp and challenging.
His thumb pressed down on the ‘+’ button once, and y/n exhaled through her nose softly.
Yoongi’s brow arched upwards. He had been with women before, but they weren’t brave enough to cross the line to this.
“You really wanted my attention, huh?” he pressed the + button once more.
Y/n crossed her leg over her knee under the table, the side slit of her dress slid up to reveal her skin.
"Tell me," He leaned back in his chair. "How many levels before you start begging me to turn it off?"
The first pulse was a gentle hum, but the second one was a shock. A deep, thrumming thud that hit right against her clit, making her press her thighs together. Heat began to rise between her legs, but it wasn’t enough.
“Find out,” she leaned forward. Her elbow met the surface of the table and she rested her chin in the palm of her hand.
His thumb hovered over the '+' sign again. He didn't press it. Not yet. He just watched the way her pupils dilated, the way her chest rose and fell as she steadied her breathing. She could feel her walls squeeze impulsively, trying to catch the vibration.
"You’re a brave little slut, aren’t you?" Yoongi bit back a smirk. "You sure you want to keep playing this game?”
Her clit was already pulsing, swollen and begging for more. She raised her glass of whiskey. “Are you worried we might get caught?” she asked. “Or do you want the birthday girl?”
Yoongi watch as she drank, how her throat moved, how she licked her lips clean of the whiskey. His cock twitched at the memory of her mouth, how the tip of his cock hit the back of her throat, how she looked when he came on her stomach. No, he did not want the birthday girl. He wanted her.
He pressed the + button again. Level three, and y/n felt the wetness between her legs begin to soak her underwear as she shifted in her chair.
“From how blown out your eyes are,” he said. “Just how wet are you right now, y/n?”
“Wouldn’t you like to know,” the corner of her mouth pushed upwards into a soft smirk.
Yoongi chuckled, a dark, dry sound. He leaned forward, mirroring her posture until their faces were inches apart. And then, the vibration jumped again when he pressed the button. Level four.
The buzzing sting sent a jolt of pure electricity through her. Her eyes fell to his fingers, how they held the remote. But she was imagining what they would feel like on her face, in her hair, on her body. Inside her. Her lower back arched ever so slightly, and she bit her bottom lip. Her pearly white teeth dug into the softness of her lip.
"Mmmng," she moaned softly.
His cock throbbed against the fabric of his black denim jeans. He didn’t press the button to another level. He liked the way she looked at level four – brows gently pulled together and lip caught between her teeth. He watched how her breasts fell and rose beneath the cleavage as she breathed.
“How does it feel?” he asked, watching her throat move as she swallowed once.
“Good,” she said softly. He could see her moving her hips as she shifted. She was chasing that vibrating hum.
Y/n reached her hand out to the remote, but Yoongi pulled away at the last second. "Ah, ah,” a cocky smirk tugged at his lips. “Now don’t tell me it’s too much for you?”
She narrowed her eyes, her chin dipped ever so slightly and her bangs fell like curtains over her eyes to her jawline just enough.
“Higher,” she whispered.
Without breaking eye contact, Yoongi pressed the + button again. “Is that better?” he asked, and Y/n nodded. He watched how she bit her lip at the new level to muffle her moan, but her eyes didn’t stray from his gaze.
His hard cock throbbed at the sight of her.
“You’re taking it like a good girl,” he chuckled. “Do you have any idea what you asked for when you handed me this, y/n?”
Her head tilted and her teeth sunk deeper into her bottom lip. “Mmmng," she moaned.
“Ah, ah,” Yoongi turned the level down. “You have to keep your voice down, or we can’t play in public anymore.”
“Mmhmm,” she nodded desperately – needy. She wanted – no, she needed him to push the level higher again. She was going insane from the low and barely faint vibration against her clit. It was there, but weak. She had never been this horny before. Not even during those seven days.
“Please Yoongi” she begged. Her voice was breathy and so needy it almost made him moan. “Please. More. I need more. Please.”
“Will you keep your voice down?” He asked her teasingly, and she nodded immediately.
Yoongi chuckled under his breath at the sight of her. His cock was hard in his black denim jeans, and he needed something to ease the way it pressed against the fabric. He leaned back in his chair, and that seemed to relief him, but not enough. The ache was still there.
“You’re so sexy when you’re like this,” he mused.
The birthday girl with her tiara could be on fire for all he cared. His entire world had shrunk down to the four feet of mahogany between them. He looked down and caught how her thighs trembled under that floral dress thanks to the side slit.
He didn’t hesitate and he pressed the ‘+’ button. The low and gentle vibration jumped from level three to six. Her back slammed against the back of her chair and a soft gasp left her lips. Her chest heaved so hard the tie at her bust looked like it was about to snap. She look wrecked and he hadn’t even felt her around his cock yet.
He wanted to pull her onto his lap and find out if she taste as sweet as she did a week ago. “You’re handling this pretty well,” he praised before pressing the ‘+’ once more. Level seven.
Her teeth sunk into her bottom lip again, and her back arched before falling back against the back of her chair.
“Is it hitting that sweet spot, baby?” he taunted.
“Mmm, yes,” she nodded.
He watch the way her hips rocked ever so gently, and his cock twitched. “Mmm,” he echoed her soft hummed moan. "Are you getting close, baby?"
"Mmm, yes," she breathed, her eyes hazy, unfocused, and locked entirely on his.
He pressed the '+' again. Level eight, and the sound that left her was small, a shattered hitched breath that she tried to swallow.
"That's it," his tongue licked his bottom lip ever so slightly. "Good girl. Don't you look away." He wanted her eyes on him when she came. He pressed the ‘-‘ button, and a soft whimper left her lips. The vibration fell two level down and the corners of her eyes watered.
She tried to speak, her lips parted, her tongue peeked out to wet the bottom one where her teeth had left deep, red marks. But no words came out—just a needy, desperate little whine that made his cock twitch so hard it hurt.
“Please. Yoongi,” she titled her head to the side. “I’m close. Please.”
“How can I deny you when you ask me so nicely?” he teased, and her heart jumped in her chest when he pressed the ‘+’ three times swiftly. Her entire body jolted. Her head fell back, exposing the long, elegant line of her throat, and her hips gave a sharp, involuntary buck against the seat.
“Shibal,” he cursed in awe under his breath. “You should see how fucking stunning you are when you're this close."
She looked at him, her face flushed a deep, petal pink. He watched her moan and bite her bottom lip again. Y/n felt her walls screaming, clenching around that plastic toy as if it were him balls deep inside her.
"Yoongi,” her voice trembled. “Mmn- fuck.”
“That’s it, baby,” he whispered. “Cum for me.”
She felt it. The heat and pressure came first. She didn’t know whether to reach down between her legs and touch herself or grip the arm rests of the chair. But before she could move her hand down the wave came, and her hips buckled forward. A shiver ran through her entire body, dropping down to her lower back as she came. Her thighs wouldn't stop quivering, her hands shook, and her heart drummed inside her chest.
His cock was straining hard against his jeans. It was starting to throb with a dull, rhythmic ache. He turned off the vibrator. She looked at him, her bottom lip wet and swollen from where she had bitten it with her teeth.
“Yoongi," she whispered under her breath like a plea.
"I know," he stood up and took her hand.
He guided her through the bar until they reached the elevator. Yoongi pressed the button, and the doors opened. They entered, but the moment the doors closed behind them he did not wait. He hauled her back against the corner of the lift, his body slamming into hers with a force that made her breath hitch in her throat.
His hands found her face, cupping her jaw. Their tongues tangled with they could taste the mix of the whiskey both of them had.
He groaned into her mouth, the sound vibrating deep in his throat. He hooked a hand under her thigh, hiking her left leg up around his waist so he could press his hard, aching cock against her. Even through the layers of her dress and his jeans, Yoongi could just how soaked she was.
"Yoongi," she whimpered against his lips. It sounded like she was on the verge of tears. Desperate and whiny.
"I've got you," his thumb grazed her lower lip. He pulled back just an inch. “I've got you, baby."
His lips fell to her jaw, her neck, the sensitive hollow of her collarbone. Every time she moaned, every time her hips twitched against his, it felt like a needle scratching at his skin.
The elevator chimed, announcing the parking garage. The doors opened to an expanse of cold concrete and flickering yellow lights. The garage was silent, save for the hum of the ventilation system. His black SUV sat alone in the far corner of the lot, a dark shadow against the grey.
Yoongi led her towards the car, and he opened the backseat door. He moved to the side, letting her get in first before he followed after her.
The moment the door closed with a thud, Yoongi’s eyes drank the sight of her. The floral dress was hiked up, the fabric bunched around her waist.
"Lean back for me," he said as he too leaned back. “All the way back against the door. Spread your legs, baby. Wide."
Y/n leaned back against the door, her head resting against the area of the door where the window and door met. Her legs parted and her eyes never left him. Not even when her fingers brushed against her pink, swollen folds. She let out a tiny, broken whimper when she found the base of the device. It was still slick with her, glistening under the dim overhead light of the car.
‘Holy fuck,’ he thought to himself. She began to pull it out, slowly and he watched the way her muscles thinned and stretched. The way her inner labia clung to the smooth plastic as it exited. A string of clear wetness stretched from the toy to her body, snapping and coating her fingers.
"Shibal," he murmured under his breath.
He watched as she brought her fingers to her mouth, licking the moisture off her skin. Her tongue swiped across hers fingers, catching every drop of herself, before she sucked one finger into her mouth with a soft moan.
His throat ran dry. "How is it?" he asked.
"See for yourself," she whispered and bit her lip again. Her teeth sunking into the swollen flesh.
He did not need to be told twice. He moved and dropped from the seat to the floor of the car, his knees hitting the carpeted mat between her spread legs. The position was cramped due to the seats, but since it was an SUV it wasn’t suffocating.
He moved his hands from her thighs to her waist, pulling her down towards the edge of the seat. His tongue pressed against her, starting at the very bottom and dragging all the way up.
Y/n’s body jerked first. She had never let anyone do this before. But when Yoongi used his thumbs to spread her folds wider and took another drag with his tongue, her head slammed back against the door.
She did not expect for this tongue to feel like this. The heat of his mouth on her had her head swimming. She forgot how to breathe.
Y/n looked down, and all she could see was the top of his dark hair. With shaking hands, she reached down and ran her fingers through his hair. She gathered the locks that fell over his eyes and pushed them back to reveal his forehead.
His eyes track up to meet her gaze as he licked from her opening all the way up to her clit where he swirled his tongue.
“You like that, baby?” his lips were shiny from her.
“Yes,” she breathed.
He flattened his tongue against her again, right where she was the wettest, at the bottom and dragged it upwards. He put a slight pressure as he did that, and a soft moan fell from her mouth. She was salt and sweetness on his tongue.
“You’re stunning, d’you know that Y/n?” he murmured against her. “So fucking stunning.”
He gripped the undersides of her thighs again and pulled her even closer to the edge of the seat. He wanted her at an angle that would have her gasping. He leaned in again and swirled his tongue.
Her fingers tightened in his hair. His lips closed around her clit, and he sucked. Her hips jumped forward, and he smirked against her while flicking his tongue against the most sensitive parts of her. Fast and wave-like almost.
Y/n gasped for air as she looked down between her bent and parted legs. He looked like he was worshiping her, but also destroying her. She felt him lick the undersides of her clit and swirl his tongue before he raised his middle and index fingers and coated them with the wetness from her folds. He pushed his fingers inside her, and her hips buckled forward even more.
“Mmmng,” her head fell back. Her lungs forgot how to pull in air.
“Shiiibal,” he sighed and closed his lips around her clit again, and pumped his fingers in and out, matching the rhythm of his tongue.
“Fuck, Yoongi.” Her fingers tightened in his hair. His tongue dragged up and down her clit, her folds, and she could feel the pressure below her stomach building. His mouth and tongue worked on her, alternating between licking and sucking. Her fingers, tangled in his hair pulled him closer and her hips began to roll.
“You like how my tongue feels on you, baby?” his eyes shot up to find Y/n with her head thrown back and her eyes closed. He curled his fingers inside her, pressing against the spongy spot that made a moan fall from her lips.
“Do it again,” she exhaled breathlessly.
Yoongi curled his fingers again, and she moaned while rocking her hips against his face and fingers, seeking more.
“That feel good?” his voice was muffled. his tongue swiped over her clit, and her fingers in his hair tightened.
"Mmm, Yoongi," she moaned, and he curled his fingers again and sucked on her clit.
“Fuck, you sound so pretty when you moan my name, baby” he murmured.
“Mmmmng, too much,” she gasped. She could feel the pressure below her stomach tightening and becoming hotter.
“No, no, baby,” Yoongi chuckled and it vibrated against her. “It’s not too much. You’re gonna cum all over my fingers and tongue.”
“Yoongi…” She gasped for air.
“You’ll be a good girl for me, won’t you, Y/n?” He pumped his fingers in and out of her. “Come on, baby, cum for me. Just breathe and cum for me, baby girl.”
Yoongi sucked and swirled his tongue faster against her, matching the speed of his fingers as they thrusted into her and curled to her G-spot. She felt her breath cutting off, and then, a shiver run down her back, and her entire body went rigid. Her head slammed back against the door and her her back arched. She could not breathe. She could not think.
Yoongi did not pull away just yet. He wanted to feel her temble beneath his tongue. He sucked gently on her clit as the last of the pulses faded away. And only then, very slowly he withdraw his fingers and brought them up to his mouth.
“Shibal, you taste so fucking good, baby,” he moaned as he licked the last of her wetness off his fingers and lips before swallowing.
His cock was painful against the demin of his jeans. It throbbed, begging for a release.
He leaned back and licked his lips as he unbuckled his belt. He wanted her to watch him. He wanted her to see what she was doing to him. He unzipped his jeans and pushed them down enough with his boxers to relese his cock.
Pre-cum leaked from the tip, and she leaned over – crawling almost as he moved from kneeling to sit agaisnt the leather seats. Her teeth sunk into her bottom lip. She could feel herself aching for him. Her tongue was watering at the sight of his hard cock.
Yoongi reached out to cup her cheek, and turned her face to look into her eyes.
“Do you want it, Y/n?” his voice was raspy and deep.
Y/n’s brows pulled togther slightly, and she bit her bottom lip harder while nodding.
“Tell me you want my cock inside you,” he brushed his thumb against her cheekbone. “Tell me how bad you want me to fuck right now.”
“Please Yoongi,” she was breathless. “Please, fuck me. I can’t breathe. Please, I need you.”
He looked at her for a moment. His tongue pressed to the corner of his lip and his lips parted ever so slightly. Her long hair framed her flushed face, her lip caught between her teeth, and her dress practically falling off her. She looked so fucking ready to be wrecked.
He sucked in air through his teeth sharply before reaching out to her waist and hauled her forward. The moment she straddled him, he could feel just how wet she was against his cock and his head fell back.
‘Holy fuck,’ he thought to himself.
He lifted his head back to look at her, and he cupped her cheek, drawing her in for a kiss. His tongue bushed against her lower lip and slipped into her mouth. He gripped her ass, his fingers digging into her soft skin. He needed to be inside her.
Yoongi pulled away from the kiss. "Y/n," his voice sounded like it had been dragged through gravel. “Look at what you're doing to me." He took her hand and guided it down between them so she could feel how hard and thick he was.
Her thumb brushed against the tip of his cock, and she could feel his pre-cum.
“Move your hips,” he murmured.
And she did. She moved her underwear to the side and grounded her pussy down the shaft of his cock and rocked her hips forward and back. Her wet, swollen folds dragged along the length of his dick to the base when she moved her hips back and then all the way to the tip when she rocked forward.
Yoongi’s head fell back against the seat. The veins on his cock rubbed against her labia as she slide back and forth. The tip of his cock hit her clit each time she moved.
“Mmmng,” Y/n moaned, and Yoongi pushed her hips down more. Her wetness mixed with his pre-cum.
“Is my cock hitting your clit how you like it, baby?” he asked, and she nodded. “Can you feel how badly I want to fuck you?” he cupped her cheek. “Shibal, you’re being such a good girl for me, Y/n.”
He pressed his thumb against her bottom lip, and she sucked it into her mouth. She moaned around him, and Yoongi bit his lower lip. Her hips jerked at the sensation of her clit dragging along his shaft, and Yoongi pressed his thumb down on her tongue.
"Just like that,” his hips slowly starting to work in rhythm with hers. “Shibal, you’re so stunning, baby,” he murmured. Y/n let out a whimpered sob. He removed his thumb from her mouth. “You're needy, aren’t you? you think you’re ready for my cock?”
“mmhmm,” she nodded.
Yoongi reached down and guided the head of his cock to her opening. She was so wet that the tip slid in easily, stretching her entrance.
He moaned at the feeling of her wetness around the head of his cock, and his hand moved back to grip her waist. She moaned, and her eyes closed for just a moment before she opened them again.
“You want me deeper, baby?” Yoongi asked. Y/n nodded again and moaned. “Such a good girl,” he murmured, his hands gripped her hips tighter as he lowered her down, pushing his cock all the way inside her.
“Fuck, Y/n,” his head thumped back against the leather as she took him fully. “Move your hips for me, baby.”
And she did.
Y/n shifted her the weight in her hips forward, and then back in wave-like rolls. Her clit brushed against his stomach while his shaft rubbed right against her G-spot.
“Just like that, baby,” he moaned.
Y/n leaned back. She rested on hand behind her on his knee and she had one hand on his shoulder for support. She moved her hips in wave like rolls. “Mmmmng,” a loud and long moan fell from her lips.
“Shibal,” Yoongi moaned when he looked down between them. He could see his shaft sliding in and out each time she rolled her hips. “Fuck, that’s so hot, Y/n. What the fuck?”
He reached out his hand between them and pressed his thumb against her clit.
“Oh, fuck!” she moaned, and he smirked.
“You like that, baby?” he purred and rubbed circles on her clit.
She bit her lip and nodded. “Mm-hmm.” Y/n gasped for air and leaned forward to kiss him. “Please,” she murmured against his lips. “Please, fuck me, Yoongi. Please.”
Yoongi broke the kiss and feigned a pout as he cupped her cheek. “You want me to fuck you, baby?” he asked, and she rocked her hips harder. “I’ll fuck you. Don’t worry, darling.”
He gripped her waist and repositioned her. The leather of his car seat hit her back as he laid her down. Yoongi hovered over her, and I lined himself up again with her opening. He pushed forward, driving his entire length into her in one thrust.
A broken moan left her mouth. Her head lifted off the leather before slamming back down. Yoongi dropped his forehead to rest against hers, and she wrapped her legs around his waist, pulling him closer.
She began to rock her hips into his. “Please, Yoongi,” she sighed. “Please. Move.”
Yoongi didn’t thrust slowly into her. His thrust knocked the air from her lungs.
Y/n gasped and moaned in pleasure.
“Look at you,” Yoongi mused as he rocked his hips into hers. “Taking my cock like a good girl.”
“Mmmng,” she moaned. “Harder. Please, Yoongi. Please.”
Yoongi leaned down and captured her lips with his. Hs hips thrusted with a force into her, and she moaned into his mouth.
He pulled away from the kiss and reached down between them as he continued to move his hips into her. His fingers found her clit again, and he began to rub circles.
Y/n’s back arched ever so slightly off the leather car seat. “Mmm,” her voice trembled. “Yoongi.”
“Mmm, feels good, baby?” he teased her. “You can be as fucking loud as you want. No one will hear you.”
He watched her eyes water, and a loud, sobbing moan broke from her parted lips.
“Shibal, you sound so fucking pretty for me like this,” Yoongi purred. “And you’re fucking squeezing my cock. Fuck!”
“Ahmmng,” she gasped and moaned.
He moved his hand away from her clit and gripped her hip, holding her in place as he thrusted into her.
Y/n let out a long, high-pitched whine. Her hips bucking up to meet every one of his thrusts. She was chasing that feeling that was just seconds away. He could feel her walls tightening around him.
“Fuck,” Yoongi cursed under his breath.
He looked down at her. She looked desperate. Like she was begging for it to end and for it to never stop at the same time. She reached up and touched his chest, her hand trembling against his shirt and she gripped the fabric into her fist.
“Shit,” she bit her bottom lip.
“God, you’re so fucking beautiful,” Yoongi breathed.
“Please Yoongi,” she was breathless. “I’m gonna cum.”
“Me too baby,” he rasped.
Yoongi pause for a moment and just allowed himself to be buried inside her. His cock throbbed and twitched against her G-spot and her walls pulsed around him.
He reached out and cupped her cheek, his thumb brushing over her bottom lip. “Can I cum inside?” he murmured.
Y/n looked up at him with her hazy and teary eyes and nodded. Yoongi leaned his forehead against hers. He began to thrust into her again.
“Shit,” Y/n gasped. She wrapped her arms around his neck, their lips were almost pressed together.
Yoongi gripped her cheek and hip harder as he pulled out until only the head of his dick was inside her and then he pushed back into her.
“Cum for me, baby,” he murmured.
Y/n’s eyes rolled back ever so slightly. She bit her bottom lip. Her back arched off the seat and he felt her clench around his dick as she came.
Yoongi felt his orgasm build up. He gave three more heavy, desperate thrusts, driving himself into her. He groaned as he came as well. He didn't pull out. His hips twitched as he gently pumped himself into her, over and over again.
“Fuck,” he pulled back just enough to look at her. She looked beautiful. Wrecked, but beautiful.
He reached up and brushed a stray curl away from her forehead. “Are you okay?” he asked.
“Mm-hmm,” she nodded.
Ring, ring!!
His phone went off inside his pocket.
Yoongi sighed as he sat up and answered the phone. “Yeah?” he leaned back, watching Y/n as she too sat up and began to smooth her dress into place.
“Where are you?” Hoseok asked.
“I am at the bar,” Yoongi said. “Why? Is something wrong?”
Y/n tied the bow at the front of her dress, but her eyes were locked on Yoongi the entire time. He sat leaning against the door of the car, his head dipped to the side where he balanced his phone between his ear and shoulder with his dark hair falling in his eyes.
“It’s Y/n,” Hoseok sighed. “Honestly! That girl is a nightmare. I need to find her before everyone starts asking me where the hell she disappeared off to.”
Yoongi ran a hand through his hair before holding his phone to his ear. He looked at Y/n, her hair a mess, cheeks tinted with a shade of red and lips bruised.
He licked his bottom lip and smirked softly. “Y/n is with me,” he said.
Y/n’s eyes widened. ‘What the fuck was he doing?’ She thought to herself.
“She’s with you?” Hoseok frowned.
“Mmng,” Yoongi nodded. “I ran into her in Gangnam. She said she was lost. I will drive her home.”
“Put her on the phone.”
Y/n could picture her cousin expression when Yoongi hit the speaker icon.
“Did I not tell you not to go out alone?” Hoseok scolded her. “The moment I get my hands on you, I’m putting a tracking chip in your phone. Why do you even have a phone, huh? To you answer phone calls and texts.”
“I will have her home soon,” Yoongi said before hanging up.
But the moment he lowered the phone, Y/n swung at his arm. It was barely a blow, but he feigned to be in pain.
“Ouch!” he rubbed the spot. “Easy, tiger.”
“You’re unbelieve,” Y/n rolled her eyes.
They both got out of the car and moved to the front driver and passenger seats.
AUTHOR'S NOTE,
And that's pt 2 of WRONG.
Apologies for the very late delay. I have been busy with working on my novel that i am publishing in June, as well as new chapters for Realism that Author Q and I will be posting soon and I also have a new AU story I will be posting here soon.
stay tuned for more shots, video shot as well 🤫, au stories and Realism updates.
A little scene I thought up at work today… not a lot of romance here just some father/daughter stuff
yoongi as a father. yoongi sfw
Even deaf, she still wanted to play just like her father. Yoongi was propped in his studio chair, acoustic on his lap. Your daughter is standing between his legs, little hands flat against the body of the guitar. She looks up at him with all the love in the world.
“Ready?” He smoothes her hair with one hand- then remembers to sign. He was still learning, admittedly. He wanted to, rather than hiring someone to teach her or getting her an aid. it was her decision to make as she got older, you both figured.
“Ah!” She makes noise, nodding her head. He smiles- even if shes loud he loves to hear her so excited she uses her voice. He begins to play so she can feel the vibrations through the guitar.
You’re across the room on the leather couch, reading. You can hear your daughter’s feet tapping along with one of Yoongi’s— he was teaching her how to keep time before anything else.
“You really think shes going to be able to play?” You inquire, happy just to observe.
“Oh yeah, totally. Im going to color code the frets on this guitar. She can remember the chords visually,” he explains. “Shes a quick learner- good job!” Yoongi praises, clapping his hands together. It makes your daughter jump up and down, excited.
“You two are cute.” You compliment, sitting up.
Your daughter is motioning. Yoongi frowns slightly. “Huh? What- sorry, again,” he motions ‘repeat’ to her.
“Oh, you want one more song…. Honey do you want to join her this time?” He offers. You cross the room to kneel next to him.
“a-ma,” your daughter says; you assume she means ‘mama’. She takes your wrist in both hands, trying to guide you to put it against the body of Yoongis guitar. You smile.
“What should I play her?” Yoongi asks, adjusting his strings.
“She likes permission to dance,” you suggest, gently touching her shoulder before offering. She nods frantically, already stomping her feet.
Walking into the studio you could hear the low humming of Yoongi's monitors filling the room. You'd decided to come and see him for the night, you'd pictured yourself curling up in the sofa while he worked on songs. But as soon as you walked in, all thoughts of what you were doin were gone.
"I thought you'd be asleep," He mentioned, looking up at you as he slides his headphones of his head and smirking at you. You were dresed in one of his shirts and a pair of tight shorts, instantly making him brick up in his pants.
"I couldn't sleep without seeing you," You whisper, your heart pounding against your chest as you made your way over to him. He instantly wrapped his arms around your waist ad gave you his feel attention.
“Good girl,” he said, voice low, teasing, his thumbs slowly tracing patterns into your skin as he looks up at you. Your skin was already covered in goosebumps.
"I-" You couldn't even get the words out that you were needy for him before he cut you off,
"I know," he smirks pushing you against the edge of his console desk. The edge dug into your hips a little and he stood up, leaning over you as he ran his hands down your shorts, dragging his thumb over the damp part o your panties.
"Fucking soaked," he moans, his fingers slipping beneath your panties, sliding along your folds, and you shivered, pressing your thighs together.
“Yoongi…2 you warned, your voice trembling, as much as this was exciting you, you worried someone was going to catch you.
“someone could—”
“Shh,” he cut you off, lips ghosting along your jaw.
“No one’s coming in now. And even if they did…” His hand cupped your throat briefly, thumb brushing over your pulse as he smirks to himself,
“…they’d see exactly who you belong to.” He whispers in your ear, biting down on your earlobe. Your breath hitched in your throat as you rubbed yourself against his fingers. He chuckles darkly to himself, already circling your clit with a finger, the slow tease making your knees buckle.
“God, you’re dripping,” he groaned.
“Look at you on my desk. Messy little slut. Wanting it so bad.” He whispers to you, you whimper into your palm, trying to stifle any sound that you make.
“Don’t bother,” he murmured, moving your hand away from your mouth and smirking down at you.
“I want to hear you… but not enough for anyone else.” He thrust two fingers inside you curling them up to that one spot that made your legs shake,
“You’re so greedy,” he rasped, lips brushing your ear, biting and kissing sofly.
“Take it, baby. All over my desk. Don’t think you can stop me from ruining you.” He continued to fuck his fingers into you, thrusting them harder as you whimper his name out, your hands clutching at the desk for something to steady yourself with.
He bent you forward slightly, pressing his hips against the top of your thigh, grunting as he thrust against you like a needy puppy.
“You feel that?” he whispered.
“Already so wet for me… want me to fuck you right here?” Your hands gripped the desk edge, heart hammering, and you nodded needily, god, you couldn't remember the last time he'd made you like this.
“That’s my girl,” he groaned, sliding his fingers out of you. You practically ripped off your shorts and turned around, glancing over your shoulder at him.
“Always so desparate, can’t even wait until we’re alone.” He chuckles softly, he tugged his jeans just low enough, lined up with your entrance, tapping his cock against your pussy before he pushed in one slow, firm thrust. You gasped out, your body shaking as you glance over your shoulder at him.
“Fuck. A-Always so tight,” he whispered, teeth grazing your shoulder, biting and kissing softly on your perfect skin.
“Take all of me. I’m yours.” The pace started slow, deliberate, just enough to make your thighs tremble. Yoongi pushed you down until your chest was pressed to the desk, and your hands clutched the edge until your nails dug in. Every thrust dragged you closer, your muffled cries echoing faintly in the room.
“You can’t even stay quiet for me,” he murmured, smirk audible in his voice. Fuck, he absoutely adored making you needy like this. He adored the way you clenched around his cock as he plowed into you.
“Want them to hear how wet you are… don’t you?” You shook your head, muffled sounds betraying your failure.
“I know,” he said, grinding harder, pressing closer making your stomach tighten.
"So fucking greedy. So messy. Look at you, you're dripping all over my studio floor.” He growls out, his hips picking up the pace as he fucks into you. Your body jerked with his words, hips lifting into him as he set a ruthless pace. Your head lifted from the desk and you let out a whimper a little too loud, before you buried your face in your hands.
“Good girl,” he whispered against your ear.
"Y-Yoongi!" You moan out
“Take it. Don’t stop. Cum for me—right here, on my desk, and I’ll fill you up so messy you’ll remember this forever.” Your orgasm hit suddenly, shuddering through your body, walls clenching around him. He groaned low, thrusting deep, making sure every inch of his cock was inside you as you trembled.
“Fucking, god yes,” he groaned, voice breaking as he continued to fuck into you at his brutal pace,
“so tight - so perfect. Fucking take it, take all of it...mine.” He buried himself to the hilt, thrusting softly and gently as he looked down at you. The desk creaked, the studio lights hummed, and for a brief moment, all that existed was the two of you and the mess you were making. You could feel your orgasm building up, so close to tipping over.
Then… a knock at the door.
“Yoongi? You still in there?” someone called, faint but real. You froze, heart in your throat. Yoongi smirked, lips brushing your neck as he put a soft kiss on the sweaty skin.
“Too late to stop now,” he whispered, voice low and dangerous as he smirked to himself.
“I’m not letting you get away, baby. You’re mine… and I’m finishing this whether anyone hears or not.” He kept thrusting, faster now, every movement deliberate, fingers digging into your hips, until your orgasm hit, white-hot, shaking through you. He groaned, his own climax spilling into you again, fingers trailing through the mess as he held you down, whispering possessively,
“Good girl," He moans out, looking down at you lovingly.
"Mine. Always mine.” The knock came again, faint laughter on the other side of the door. Yoongi kissed your temple, brushing hair from your sweat covered neck.
→ Rating: mature/explicit (this is mature/explicit content, so you have been warned. fingering, vibrator, car sex, kissing, dirty talk, mafia, forbidden romance, +21.)
“Is it hitting that sweet spot, baby?” he taunted.
“Mmm, yes,” she nodded.
It’s been a week. Seven long days since he had last seen her. Seven days since he had her gasping and moaning. Yoongi had gone to see Hoseok about affairs at the Jung family manor in the city, but even then he and y/n had not spoken. He barely caught a glimpse of her each time during his visits.
Yoongi and Hoseok would sit in the study, the door would be cracked open just enough to see if anyone was approaching. First, he would catch her perfume swim in the air, and just as he would turn his head, all he saw was her shadow. She would disappear like a ghost.
Min Yoongi sat in the far back of his bar. The chandeliers hung from the tall ceiling, the bar was stocked with liquor from all over the world, and a live band kept the customers engaged.
He raised his glass of whiskey. The burn felt good running down his throat. But then he noticed a group of women sitting around a table in the font by the stage. The one with a tiara on her raven hair had her eyes locked on him. Her friends giggled around her and whispered amongst themselves. Clearly they fed their birthday girl the delusion that all she needed to do was smile and bat her lashes.
Two years ago such boring tricks would have worked on him. Not because he fell for tricks like a foolish schoolboy. But because he was a soldier back then. An heir, yes, but still, a soldier in the ranks. He would go for someone like the birthday girl. They wanted one thing, and so did he. He never took woman home to his penthouse. It was always a hotel. Sometimes he would bring two girls.
But now he did not have the time to take someone out to dinner on a Friday night, and then shopping the next day just so they wouldn’t complain. That was a headache, and Min Yoongi had more than enough of that from the life he now lived.
The woman with the tiara reached for her Mojito, her slender fingers closed around the glass as she raised it and placed the straw between her red lips.
Yoongi did not take his eyes off of her. Her friend on the of her arm nudged her gently. She looked down at the table with a soft smile before looking back up at him. Her eyes were plain – boring. There was nothing that made him want to bend her over.
But then, birthday girl’s smile faded.
Y/n sat in the empty chair on the right of him. Her long hair fell past her waist in soft curls, she wore a white and blue, floral print, maxi dress – the ones of a cottage core aesthetic with a square neckline. The dress had a tie at the bust, holding the dress in place and a side slit just below the thigh.
Min Yoongi arched a brow. “Well, I was not expecting you,” he leaned back in his chair. A smirk began to form in the corner of his perfect mouth. “I’m gonna guess that this isn’t a coincidence?”
Y/n reached for the menu and looked at the list. “It’s not a coincidence,” she replied was nonchalant. Like she did not care that she knew his business. “I overheard you and Hoseok talking earlier on the phone. You told him you would be here.”
“Eavesdropping again?”
“I was walking by,” she shook her head. “I could help but overhear.”
Y/n placed the menu down on the table and sighed softly. Like she did not care that she had been caught. Yoongi looked to the bar, and a server walked towards them.
“Yes, Mr. Min?”
Yoongi was good to all his employees at the bar. He was taught that having a friend instead of a boss like him would make their enemies become his enemies and then they would be feared.
“Miss Jung Y/n will have a Mojito,” he said.
Y/n smiled sweetly as she rested her arms on the table. “A whiskey please,” she ordered politely.
The server smiled, charmed by her politeness. She nodded and walked towards the bar. Usually the Women they saw their boss with were rude, bitchy and lacked manners. They were employees, not servants, and y/n understood that.
“You don’t strike me as a whiskey drinker.”
Y/n tilted her head, her sweet smile still there. “Wae?” she asked. “Is that the drink you order for your Brainless Dolls?”
“Brainless Dolls?” The corner of his mouth twitched softly. “Is that who you think I spend my time with?”
“I assume that’s how you like them,” she flipped her hair over her should and leaned back in her chair. “Quiet. A man like you does not want a conversation at three in the morning. You want a place to put your stress away. Someone who will not dare to ask where the blood on your cufflink came from."
The server returned, placing her whiskey and his refill on the table. She lingered for a second, her eyes darting between them, before she bowed and vanished.
"You're a provocation," he said. “But I’ll play your game.” He raised his glass, swirling the amber liquid before taking a slow sip. "So, did you come here to stalk me,” he asked. “Or did you just miss the way I fucked you senseless last week?"
Yoongi watched her cheeks flush red, but she did not flinch. Instead, she mirrored him, raising her own glass to her lips. She drank before speaking. "Maybe both,” her voice was smooth and soft. “But mostly, I wanted to see if you’d run from me again."
Yoongi exhaled a laugh. "I don’t run from anything,” he said. “I do avoid complications, and you, sweetheart are just that."
Y/n tilted her head. "And yet," she murmured. "Here you are, sitting across from me, watching me drink whiskey like you’re trying to memorize the way my throat moves each time I swallow."
His jaw flexed because she was right. “The last time we stretched this game you ended up on your knees,” he said. “Are you here for another round, or are you just here to tease?"
"Depends," Y/n smiled, softly. "Are you brave enough to find out?"
She reached inside her small bag and pulled out a small, sleek device. It looked like a matte black car key with a few buttons on the face. She didn’t explain why she took out. Instead, she slid it across the polished table until it tapped against the base of his whiskey glass.
Yoongi reached for the key and his head dipped to the side as he looked at the buttons. Car keys had buttons to lock and unlock the car doors, to silence the car when the sensors went off, and to unlock and lock the boot. But this one had three buttons going down the center. The top one was an on and off button, the middle one had a ‘+’ sign and the bottom one had the ‘-’ sign.
His thumb hovering over the on and off button, but his eyes were locked on her. He hoped she would change her mind. He hoped she would tell him to return it, but instead her chin dipped, her eyes narrowed – sharp and challenging.
His thumb pressed down on the ‘+’ button once, and y/n exhaled through her nose softly.
Yoongi’s brow arched upwards. He had been with women before, but they weren’t brave enough to cross the line to this.
“You really wanted my attention, huh?” he pressed the + button once more.
Y/n crossed her leg over her knee under the table, the side slit of her dress slid up to reveal her skin.
"Tell me," He leaned back in his chair. "How many levels before you start begging me to turn it off?"
The first pulse was a gentle hum, but the second one was a shock. A deep, thrumming thud that hit right against her clit, making her press her thighs together. Heat began to rise between her legs, but it wasn’t enough.
“Find out,” she leaned forward. Her elbow met the surface of the table and she rested her chin in the palm of her hand.
His thumb hovered over the '+' sign again. He didn't press it. Not yet. He just watched the way her pupils dilated, the way her chest rose and fell as she steadied her breathing. She could feel her walls squeeze impulsively, trying to catch the vibration.
"You’re a brave little slut, aren’t you?" Yoongi bit back a smirk. "You sure you want to keep playing this game?”
Her clit was already pulsing, swollen and begging for more. She raised her glass of whiskey. “Are you worried we might get caught?” she asked. “Or do you want the birthday girl?”
Yoongi watch as she drank, how her throat moved, how she licked her lips clean of the whiskey. His cock twitched at the memory of her mouth, how the tip of his cock hit the back of her throat, how she looked when he came on her stomach. No, he did not want the birthday girl. He wanted her.
He pressed the + button again. Level three, and y/n felt the wetness between her legs begin to soak her underwear as she shifted in her chair.
“From how blown out your eyes are,” he said. “Just how wet are you right now, y/n?”
“Wouldn’t you like to know,” the corner of her mouth pushed upwards into a soft smirk.
Yoongi chuckled, a dark, dry sound. He leaned forward, mirroring her posture until their faces were inches apart. And then, the vibration jumped again when he pressed the button. Level four.
The buzzing sting sent a jolt of pure electricity through her. Her eyes fell to his fingers, how they held the remote. But she was imagining what they would feel like on her face, in her hair, on her body. Inside her. Her lower back arched ever so slightly, and she bit her bottom lip. Her pearly white teeth dug into the softness of her lip.
"Mmmng," she moaned softly.
His cock throbbed against the fabric of his black denim jeans. He didn’t press the button to another level. He liked the way she looked at level four – brows gently pulled together and lip caught between her teeth. He watched how her breasts fell and rose beneath the cleavage as she breathed.
“How does it feel?” he asked, watching her throat move as she swallowed once.
“Good,” she said softly. He could see her moving her hips as she shifted. She was chasing that vibrating hum.
Y/n reached her hand out to the remote, but Yoongi pulled away at the last second. "Ah, ah,” a cocky smirk tugged at his lips. “Now don’t tell me it’s too much for you?”
She narrowed her eyes, her chin dipped ever so slightly and her bangs fell like curtains over her eyes to her jawline just enough.
“Higher,” she whispered.
Without breaking eye contact, Yoongi pressed the + button again. “Is that better?” he asked, and Y/n nodded. He watched how she bit her lip at the new level to muffle her moan, but her eyes didn’t stray from his gaze.
His hard cock throbbed at the sight of her.
“You’re taking it like a good girl,” he chuckled. “Do you have any idea what you asked for when you handed me this, y/n?”
Her head tilted and her teeth sunk deeper into her bottom lip. “Mmmng," she moaned.
“Ah, ah,” Yoongi turned the level down. “You have to keep your voice down, or we can’t play in public anymore.”
“Mmhmm,” she nodded desperately – needy. She wanted – no, she needed him to push the level higher again. She was going insane from the low and barely faint vibration against her clit. It was there, but weak. She had never been this horny before. Not even during those seven days.
“Please Yoongi” she begged. Her voice was breathy and so needy it almost made him moan. “Please. More. I need more. Please.”
“Will you keep your voice down?” He asked her teasingly, and she nodded immediately.
Yoongi chuckled under his breath at the sight of her. His cock was hard in his black denim jeans, and he needed something to ease the way it pressed against the fabric. He leaned back in his chair, and that seemed to relief him, but not enough. The ache was still there.
“You’re so sexy when you’re like this,” he mused.
The birthday girl with her tiara could be on fire for all he cared. His entire world had shrunk down to the four feet of mahogany between them. He looked down and caught how her thighs trembled under that floral dress thanks to the side slit.
He didn’t hesitate and he pressed the ‘+’ button. The low and gentle vibration jumped from level three to six. Her back slammed against the back of her chair and a soft gasp left her lips. Her chest heaved so hard the tie at her bust looked like it was about to snap. She look wrecked and he hadn’t even felt her around his cock yet.
He wanted to pull her onto his lap and find out if she taste as sweet as she did a week ago. “You’re handling this pretty well,” he praised before pressing the ‘+’ once more. Level seven.
Her teeth sunk into her bottom lip again, and her back arched before falling back against the back of her chair.
“Is it hitting that sweet spot, baby?” he taunted.
“Mmm, yes,” she nodded.
He watch the way her hips rocked ever so gently, and his cock twitched. “Mmm,” he echoed her soft hummed moan. "Are you getting close, baby?"
"Mmm, yes," she breathed, her eyes hazy, unfocused, and locked entirely on his.
He pressed the '+' again. Level eight, and the sound that left her was small, a shattered hitched breath that she tried to swallow.
"That's it," his tongue licked his bottom lip ever so slightly. "Good girl. Don't you look away." He wanted her eyes on him when she came. He pressed the ‘-‘ button, and a soft whimper left her lips. The vibration fell two level down and the corners of her eyes watered.
She tried to speak, her lips parted, her tongue peeked out to wet the bottom one where her teeth had left deep, red marks. But no words came out—just a needy, desperate little whine that made his cock twitch so hard it hurt.
“Please. Yoongi,” she titled her head to the side. “I’m close. Please.”
“How can I deny you when you ask me so nicely?” he teased, and her heart jumped in her chest when he pressed the ‘+’ three times swiftly. Her entire body jolted. Her head fell back, exposing the long, elegant line of her throat, and her hips gave a sharp, involuntary buck against the seat.
“Shibal,” he cursed in awe under his breath. “You should see how fucking stunning you are when you're this close."
She looked at him, her face flushed a deep, petal pink. He watched her moan and bite her bottom lip again. Y/n felt her walls screaming, clenching around that plastic toy as if it were him balls deep inside her.
"Yoongi,” her voice trembled. “Mmn- fuck.”
“That’s it, baby,” he whispered. “Cum for me.”
She felt it. The heat and pressure came first. She didn’t know whether to reach down between her legs and touch herself or grip the arm rests of the chair. But before she could move her hand down the wave came, and her hips buckled forward. A shiver ran through her entire body, dropping down to her lower back as she came. Her thighs wouldn't stop quivering, her hands shook, and her heart drummed inside her chest.
His cock was straining hard against his jeans. It was starting to throb with a dull, rhythmic ache. He turned off the vibrator. She looked at him, her bottom lip wet and swollen from where she had bitten it with her teeth.
“Yoongi," she whispered under her breath like a plea.
"I know," he stood up and took her hand.
He guided her through the bar until they reached the elevator. Yoongi pressed the button, and the doors opened. They entered, but the moment the doors closed behind them he did not wait. He hauled her back against the corner of the lift, his body slamming into hers with a force that made her breath hitch in her throat.
His hands found her face, cupping her jaw. Their tongues tangled with they could taste the mix of the whiskey both of them had.
He groaned into her mouth, the sound vibrating deep in his throat. He hooked a hand under her thigh, hiking her left leg up around his waist so he could press his hard, aching cock against her. Even through the layers of her dress and his jeans, Yoongi could just how soaked she was.
"Yoongi," she whimpered against his lips. It sounded like she was on the verge of tears. Desperate and whiny.
"I've got you," his thumb grazed her lower lip. He pulled back just an inch. “I've got you, baby."
His lips fell to her jaw, her neck, the sensitive hollow of her collarbone. Every time she moaned, every time her hips twitched against his, it felt like a needle scratching at his skin.
The elevator chimed, announcing the parking garage. The doors opened to an expanse of cold concrete and flickering yellow lights. The garage was silent, save for the hum of the ventilation system. His black SUV sat alone in the far corner of the lot, a dark shadow against the grey.
Yoongi led her towards the car, and he opened the backseat door. He moved to the side, letting her get in first before he followed after her.
The moment the door closed with a thud, Yoongi’s eyes drank the sight of her. The floral dress was hiked up, the fabric bunched around her waist.
"Lean back for me," he said as he too leaned back. “All the way back against the door. Spread your legs, baby. Wide."
Y/n leaned back against the door, her head resting against the area of the door where the window and door met. Her legs parted and her eyes never left him. Not even when her fingers brushed against her pink, swollen folds. She let out a tiny, broken whimper when she found the base of the device. It was still slick with her, glistening under the dim overhead light of the car.
‘Holy fuck,’ he thought to himself. She began to pull it out, slowly and he watched the way her muscles thinned and stretched. The way her inner labia clung to the smooth plastic as it exited. A string of clear wetness stretched from the toy to her body, snapping and coating her fingers.
"Shibal," he murmured under his breath.
He watched as she brought her fingers to her mouth, licking the moisture off her skin. Her tongue swiped across hers fingers, catching every drop of herself, before she sucked one finger into her mouth with a soft moan.
His throat ran dry. "How is it?" he asked.
"See for yourself," she whispered and bit her lip again. Her teeth sunking into the swollen flesh.
He did not need to be told twice. He moved and dropped from the seat to the floor of the car, his knees hitting the carpeted mat between her spread legs. The position was cramped due to the seats, but since it was an SUV it wasn’t suffocating.
He moved his hands from her thighs to her waist, pulling her down towards the edge of the seat. His tongue pressed against her, starting at the very bottom and dragging all the way up.
Y/n’s body jerked first. She had never let anyone do this before. But when Yoongi used his thumbs to spread her folds wider and took another drag with his tongue, her head slammed back against the door.
She did not expect for this tongue to feel like this. The heat of his mouth on her had her head swimming. She forgot how to breathe.
Y/n looked down, and all she could see was the top of his dark hair. With shaking hands, she reached down and ran her fingers through his hair. She gathered the locks that fell over his eyes and pushed them back to reveal his forehead.
His eyes track up to meet her gaze as he licked from her opening all the way up to her clit where he swirled his tongue.
“You like that, baby?” his lips were shiny from her.
“Yes,” she breathed.
He flattened his tongue against her again, right where she was the wettest, at the bottom and dragged it upwards. He put a slight pressure as he did that, and a soft moan fell from her mouth. She was salt and sweetness on his tongue.
“You’re stunning, d’you know that Y/n?” he murmured against her. “So fucking stunning.”
He gripped the undersides of her thighs again and pulled her even closer to the edge of the seat. He wanted her at an angle that would have her gasping. He leaned in again and swirled his tongue.
Her fingers tightened in his hair. His lips closed around her clit, and he sucked. Her hips jumped forward, and he smirked against her while flicking his tongue against the most sensitive parts of her. Fast and wave-like almost.
Y/n gasped for air as she looked down between her bent and parted legs. He looked like he was worshiping her, but also destroying her. She felt him lick the undersides of her clit and swirl his tongue before he raised his middle and index fingers and coated them with the wetness from her folds. He pushed his fingers inside her, and her hips buckled forward even more.
“Mmmng,” her head fell back. Her lungs forgot how to pull in air.
“Shiiibal,” he sighed and closed his lips around her clit again, and pumped his fingers in and out, matching the rhythm of his tongue.
“Fuck, Yoongi.” Her fingers tightened in his hair. His tongue dragged up and down her clit, her folds, and she could feel the pressure below her stomach building. His mouth and tongue worked on her, alternating between licking and sucking. Her fingers, tangled in his hair pulled him closer and her hips began to roll.
“You like how my tongue feels on you, baby?” his eyes shot up to find Y/n with her head thrown back and her eyes closed. He curled his fingers inside her, pressing against the spongy spot that made a moan fall from her lips.
“Do it again,” she exhaled breathlessly.
Yoongi curled his fingers again, and she moaned while rocking her hips against his face and fingers, seeking more.
“That feel good?” his voice was muffled. his tongue swiped over her clit, and her fingers in his hair tightened.
"Mmm, Yoongi," she moaned, and he curled his fingers again and sucked on her clit.
“Fuck, you sound so pretty when you moan my name, baby” he murmured.
“Mmmmng, too much,” she gasped. She could feel the pressure below her stomach tightening and becoming hotter.
“No, no, baby,” Yoongi chuckled and it vibrated against her. “It’s not too much. You’re gonna cum all over my fingers and tongue.”
“Yoongi…” She gasped for air.
“You’ll be a good girl for me, won’t you, Y/n?” He pumped his fingers in and out of her. “Come on, baby, cum for me. Just breathe and cum for me, baby girl.”
Yoongi sucked and swirled his tongue faster against her, matching the speed of his fingers as they thrusted into her and curled to her G-spot. She felt her breath cutting off, and then, a shiver run down her back, and her entire body went rigid. Her head slammed back against the door and her her back arched. She could not breathe. She could not think.
Yoongi did not pull away just yet. He wanted to feel her temble beneath his tongue. He sucked gently on her clit as the last of the pulses faded away. And only then, very slowly he withdraw his fingers and brought them up to his mouth.
“Shibal, you taste so fucking good, baby,” he moaned as he licked the last of her wetness off his fingers and lips before swallowing.
His cock was painful against the demin of his jeans. It throbbed, begging for a release.
He leaned back and licked his lips as he unbuckled his belt. He wanted her to watch him. He wanted her to see what she was doing to him. He unzipped his jeans and pushed them down enough with his boxers to relese his cock.
Pre-cum leaked from the tip, and she leaned over – crawling almost as he moved from kneeling to sit agaisnt the leather seats. Her teeth sunk into her bottom lip. She could feel herself aching for him. Her tongue was watering at the sight of his hard cock.
Yoongi reached out to cup her cheek, and turned her face to look into her eyes.
“Do you want it, Y/n?” his voice was raspy and deep.
Y/n’s brows pulled togther slightly, and she bit her bottom lip harder while nodding.
“Tell me you want my cock inside you,” he brushed his thumb against her cheekbone. “Tell me how bad you want me to fuck right now.”
“Please Yoongi,” she was breathless. “Please, fuck me. I can’t breathe. Please, I need you.”
He looked at her for a moment. His tongue pressed to the corner of his lip and his lips parted ever so slightly. Her long hair framed her flushed face, her lip caught between her teeth, and her dress practically falling off her. She looked so fucking ready to be wrecked.
He sucked in air through his teeth sharply before reaching out to her waist and hauled her forward. The moment she straddled him, he could feel just how wet she was against his cock and his head fell back.
‘Holy fuck,’ he thought to himself.
He lifted his head back to look at her, and he cupped her cheek, drawing her in for a kiss. His tongue bushed against her lower lip and slipped into her mouth. He gripped her ass, his fingers digging into her soft skin. He needed to be inside her.
Yoongi pulled away from the kiss. "Y/n," his voice sounded like it had been dragged through gravel. “Look at what you're doing to me." He took her hand and guided it down between them so she could feel how hard and thick he was.
Her thumb brushed against the tip of his cock, and she could feel his pre-cum.
“Move your hips,” he murmured.
And she did. She moved her underwear to the side and grounded her pussy down the shaft of his cock and rocked her hips forward and back. Her wet, swollen folds dragged along the length of his dick to the base when she moved her hips back and then all the way to the tip when she rocked forward.
Yoongi’s head fell back against the seat. The veins on his cock rubbed against her labia as she slide back and forth. The tip of his cock hit her clit each time she moved.
“Mmmng,” Y/n moaned, and Yoongi pushed her hips down more. Her wetness mixed with his pre-cum.
“Is my cock hitting your clit how you like it, baby?” he asked, and she nodded. “Can you feel how badly I want to fuck you?” he cupped her cheek. “Shibal, you’re being such a good girl for me, Y/n.”
He pressed his thumb against her bottom lip, and she sucked it into her mouth. She moaned around him, and Yoongi bit his lower lip. Her hips jerked at the sensation of her clit dragging along his shaft, and Yoongi pressed his thumb down on her tongue.
"Just like that,” his hips slowly starting to work in rhythm with hers. “Shibal, you’re so stunning, baby,” he murmured. Y/n let out a whimpered sob. He removed his thumb from her mouth. “You're needy, aren’t you? you think you’re ready for my cock?”
“mmhmm,” she nodded.
Yoongi reached down and guided the head of his cock to her opening. She was so wet that the tip slid in easily, stretching her entrance.
He moaned at the feeling of her wetness around the head of his cock, and his hand moved back to grip her waist. She moaned, and her eyes closed for just a moment before she opened them again.
“You want me deeper, baby?” Yoongi asked. Y/n nodded again and moaned. “Such a good girl,” he murmured, his hands gripped her hips tighter as he lowered her down, pushing his cock all the way inside her.
“Fuck, Y/n,” his head thumped back against the leather as she took him fully. “Move your hips for me, baby.”
And she did.
Y/n shifted her the weight in her hips forward, and then back in wave-like rolls. Her clit brushed against his stomach while his shaft rubbed right against her G-spot.
“Just like that, baby,” he moaned.
Y/n leaned back. She rested on hand behind her on his knee and she had one hand on his shoulder for support. She moved her hips in wave like rolls. “Mmmmng,” a loud and long moan fell from her lips.
“Shibal,” Yoongi moaned when he looked down between them. He could see his shaft sliding in and out each time she rolled her hips. “Fuck, that’s so hot, Y/n. What the fuck?”
He reached out his hand between them and pressed his thumb against her clit.
“Oh, fuck!” she moaned, and he smirked.
“You like that, baby?” he purred and rubbed circles on her clit.
She bit her lip and nodded. “Mm-hmm.” Y/n gasped for air and leaned forward to kiss him. “Please,” she murmured against his lips. “Please, fuck me, Yoongi. Please.”
Yoongi broke the kiss and feigned a pout as he cupped her cheek. “You want me to fuck you, baby?” he asked, and she rocked her hips harder. “I’ll fuck you. Don’t worry, darling.”
He gripped her waist and repositioned her. The leather of his car seat hit her back as he laid her down. Yoongi hovered over her, and I lined himself up again with her opening. He pushed forward, driving his entire length into her in one thrust.
A broken moan left her mouth. Her head lifted off the leather before slamming back down. Yoongi dropped his forehead to rest against hers, and she wrapped her legs around his waist, pulling him closer.
She began to rock her hips into his. “Please, Yoongi,” she sighed. “Please. Move.”
Yoongi didn’t thrust slowly into her. His thrust knocked the air from her lungs.
Y/n gasped and moaned in pleasure.
“Look at you,” Yoongi mused as he rocked his hips into hers. “Taking my cock like a good girl.”
“Mmmng,” she moaned. “Harder. Please, Yoongi. Please.”
Yoongi leaned down and captured her lips with his. Hs hips thrusted with a force into her, and she moaned into his mouth.
He pulled away from the kiss and reached down between them as he continued to move his hips into her. His fingers found her clit again, and he began to rub circles.
Y/n’s back arched ever so slightly off the leather car seat. “Mmm,” her voice trembled. “Yoongi.”
“Mmm, feels good, baby?” he teased her. “You can be as fucking loud as you want. No one will hear you.”
He watched her eyes water, and a loud, sobbing moan broke from her parted lips.
“Shibal, you sound so fucking pretty for me like this,” Yoongi purred. “And you’re fucking squeezing my cock. Fuck!”
“Ahmmng,” she gasped and moaned.
He moved his hand away from her clit and gripped her hip, holding her in place as he thrusted into her.
Y/n let out a long, high-pitched whine. Her hips bucking up to meet every one of his thrusts. She was chasing that feeling that was just seconds away. He could feel her walls tightening around him.
“Fuck,” Yoongi cursed under his breath.
He looked down at her. She looked desperate. Like she was begging for it to end and for it to never stop at the same time. She reached up and touched his chest, her hand trembling against his shirt and she gripped the fabric into her fist.
“Shit,” she bit her bottom lip.
“God, you’re so fucking beautiful,” Yoongi breathed.
“Please Yoongi,” she was breathless. “I’m gonna cum.”
“Me too baby,” he rasped.
Yoongi pause for a moment and just allowed himself to be buried inside her. His cock throbbed and twitched against her G-spot and her walls pulsed around him.
He reached out and cupped her cheek, his thumb brushing over her bottom lip. “Can I cum inside?” he murmured.
Y/n looked up at him with her hazy and teary eyes and nodded. Yoongi leaned his forehead against hers. He began to thrust into her again.
“Shit,” Y/n gasped. She wrapped her arms around his neck, their lips were almost pressed together.
Yoongi gripped her cheek and hip harder as he pulled out until only the head of his dick was inside her and then he pushed back into her.
“Cum for me, baby,” he murmured.
Y/n’s eyes rolled back ever so slightly. She bit her bottom lip. Her back arched off the seat and he felt her clench around his dick as she came.
Yoongi felt his orgasm build up. He gave three more heavy, desperate thrusts, driving himself into her. He groaned as he came as well. He didn't pull out. His hips twitched as he gently pumped himself into her, over and over again.
“Fuck,” he pulled back just enough to look at her. She looked beautiful. Wrecked, but beautiful.
He reached up and brushed a stray curl away from her forehead. “Are you okay?” he asked.
“Mm-hmm,” she nodded.
Ring, ring!!
His phone went off inside his pocket.
Yoongi sighed as he sat up and answered the phone. “Yeah?” he leaned back, watching Y/n as she too sat up and began to smooth her dress into place.
“Where are you?” Hoseok asked.
“I am at the bar,” Yoongi said. “Why? Is something wrong?”
Y/n tied the bow at the front of her dress, but her eyes were locked on Yoongi the entire time. He sat leaning against the door of the car, his head dipped to the side where he balanced his phone between his ear and shoulder with his dark hair falling in his eyes.
“It’s Y/n,” Hoseok sighed. “Honestly! That girl is a nightmare. I need to find her before everyone starts asking me where the hell she disappeared off to.”
Yoongi ran a hand through his hair before holding his phone to his ear. He looked at Y/n, her hair a mess, cheeks tinted with a shade of red and lips bruised.
He licked his bottom lip and smirked softly. “Y/n is with me,” he said.
Y/n’s eyes widened. ‘What the fuck was he doing?’ She thought to herself.
“She’s with you?” Hoseok frowned.
“Mmng,” Yoongi nodded. “I ran into her in Gangnam. She said she was lost. I will drive her home.”
“Put her on the phone.”
Y/n could picture her cousin expression when Yoongi hit the speaker icon.
“Did I not tell you not to go out alone?” Hoseok scolded her. “The moment I get my hands on you, I’m putting a tracking chip in your phone. Why do you even have a phone, huh? To you answer phone calls and texts.”
“I will have her home soon,” Yoongi said before hanging up.
But the moment he lowered the phone, Y/n swung at his arm. It was barely a blow, but he feigned to be in pain.
“Ouch!” he rubbed the spot. “Easy, tiger.”
“You’re unbelieve,” Y/n rolled her eyes.
They both got out of the car and moved to the front driver and passenger seats.
AUTHOR'S NOTE,
And that's pt 2 of WRONG.
Apologies for the very late delay. I have been busy with working on my novel that i am publishing in June, as well as new chapters for Realism that Author Q and I will be posting soon and I also have a new AU story I will be posting here soon.
stay tuned for more shots, video shot as well 🤫, au stories and Realism updates.
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