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theharrowing · 1 year

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Collateral 🗡️ 11: Something you will have in abundance

Your ex-boyfriend gets in over his head working for the local mafia, and Boss Min has come to collect his payment: You.

But was it simply a matter of being in the wrong place at the wrong time? Or has he always had his sights on you?

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🗡️ Yoongi x Female Reader x Namjoon 🗡️ word count: 13.9k 🗡️ mafia au, strangers to lovers, graphic violence, major character injury, poly, smut, angst, fluff, nsfw, explicit, 21+ 🗡️ warnings: difficult conversations and heavy feelings, threesome (oral sex, vaginal & anal sex, a train-like position? you'll see.)

🗡️ note: this chapter is a mess. whew! you may get frustrated with how i decide mc feels throughout this one, but she's my character, and i want her to be a little broken.

🗡️ beta read by @neoneunnajimin

🗡️ posted nov. 2022 | read on ao3

The restaurant Yoongi brings you and Namjoon to is a dinky sushi spot in some back alley downtown. You always enjoy these places the most—the unassuming-on-the-outside, amazing-on-the-inside restaurants that Yoongi seems to prefer.

The three of you are led to a private room, and before you have a chance to sit on the thick, red velvet cushions which line the back wall, servers are coming to fill glasses with rice wine and water, and inform you that dinner will be ready shortly. Yoongi must have called ahead. The servers exit, and anxiety settles in.

There is probably no need to feel nervous since it makes sense that Yoongi would already know everything about your past. But what if he was directly involved in what happened to you back then? What if Yoongi's family was in charge of the honey bees who sent you to kill Seungri? You are not sure you can handle the ramifications of everything being a setup from the start, knowing just how little control you have had this entire time.

You have also compartmentalized the entire event to the extent that telling truth from fabrication is difficult, and you are unsure how much of the dream you can actually trust. It has been years since you dreamt so vividly about the penthouse, and you have not thought much about the honey bees or the queen in so long.

Once the three of you are settled down and the serving staff leaves, Namjoon busies himself with putting slices of sashimi onto your and Yoongi's bowls of rice and pushing side dishes in front of the two of you. It feels oddly domestic, being squished between the two of them while one of them dotes on you, but it helps calm your nerves.

The sound of Yoongi clearing his throat pulls you from your thoughts, and you feel the breath hitch in your throat with anticipation. Yoongi must notice because he chuckles and rests his hand on your knee.

"I am sure you have a lot of questions," Yoongi begins. "But why don't I tell you my story and then you can tell me yours?"

You nod and crack a smile. This feels like a good way to ease into the topic, especially considering it has been so long since you have discussed any of the events aloud, and you are unsure how you may feel.

Yoongi picks up a bite of food and closes his eyes to savor it. It is a simple act—the puffing of his cheeks as he chews, and the crescents that his eyes become—but you feel so captivated by how soft and serene he looks in this moment, and you cannot tear your gaze away. He swallows his mouthful and takes a sip of his rice wine, then sets his utensils down and angles his body toward yours, clasping his hands over one of your knees, sending a wave of warmth through you.

"Before I was born, my family did not have control over everything that we do now, including the brothels, and, at the time, the trafficking circles. Over the course of many years, my mother weaseled her way into becoming in charge of the largest brothel in this country. Her goal was to overthrow the men in charge and give the workers a better way of life, which, of course, was something she could not orchestrate on her own, nor out in the open, so she began to seek out workers to help create an uprising of sorts."

"The queen," you mutter under your breath, and Yoongi's grip on your knee tightens before releasing.

"Yes and no. The queen you knew of came after my mother—" Yoongi stops, and the words sound as if they are caught in his throat, so you wait for him to resume. There is a shifting beside you as Namjoon leans into your space and wraps an arm around you, reaching to give Yoongi's shoulder a squeeze. No emotion is conveyed on Yoongi's face as he gathers himself and clears his throat. "What led to the uprising that you were part of was in retaliation for what they did to her. That is also why the mission was so rushed."

You are left with more questions than answers, but Yoongi has a faraway look in his eyes, causing you to question whether this may be something he is not prepared to talk about, after all.

Namjoon shifts again beside you, and asks, "May I?" to which Yoongi hums and nods.

There is already fish and rice on the end of Namjoon’s chopsticks, and he takes a bite before continuing, so you turn away from Yoongi to give him a little space, and to finally grab your chopsticks and dig in. The tuna practically melts in your mouth, and you find yourself savoring the bite much like Yoongi had, with your cheeks puffed and eyes closed. The atmosphere feels tense, and you are relieved when Yoongi picks up his utensils and begins to eat, as well.

"As Yoongi was saying," Namjoon finally begins, softly, "before any of us were born, Yoongi's mother was coming into power. His father had begun to strategize taking over the brothels and trafficking ring—the latter with the hope of shutting it down—and his mother was eager to do anything she could to help."

"She was just like you," Yoongi mutters softly, "before my father took her away from the club and brought her into the family."

Just like you. Perhaps the words should not sting, but they do, and you feel yourself stiffen, shoulders drawing up as if to protect yourself.

Just like what, you wonder? A stray without a family? A cheap whore? A piece of meat to get passed around by the slimy men of the underground circuits? A pawn used to carry out a hired assassination for the so-called greater good, with hardly an explanation of why?

You attempt to tamp down the anger that rises within you, but it feels difficult to do when your past is spoken about so nonchalantly. Luckily, Namjoon cuts in before you have a chance to gather enough angry thoughts to throw back at Yoongi, and you take another mouthful of sashimi and rice.

"Yoongi's mother was left to the streets at a young age and found herself working as a prostitute to make ends meet. She was picked up by Seungri's predecessor and passed around until one day, Yoongi's father met her, hired her for a night, and eventually took her home. They slowly became influential within the sex work market, and stayed mostly on the sidelines, strategizing takeover plans, until Yoongi came along and pulled their attention away to more important matters for a while. She was like you in that she did not have family support, and she did what she had to, to survive." Namjoon's hand gently rubs over your shoulders, and as the warmth spreads from his palm, you find yourself relaxing into the touch.

"As Yoongi's father slowly became a partner in the brothers, overseeing operations and offering to let them use some of his men for security, his mother was brought in to oversee worker conditions, and to be a bridge between them and Seungri. She became somewhat of a figurehead within the scene, and the workers favored her above all others, but she was torn between those responsibilities and being a mother, and somewhere along the line, Seungri managed to once again gain more control."

Hearing his name rises bile to your throat, and you reach for your glass and take a big drink of your rice wine. Then, you grab your chopsticks and place a piece of fish atop a bite of rice.

Yoongi lets out a deep sigh, as if fortifying himself against a coming storm, then says, "Seungri slowly became violent, both with the workers, and with his own men. It took a while to get proof of his doings, but once people started to come to my mother for help, she began to create a network of workers, with the hope of building an army of sorts. This went on for a little over a decade before there was any sign of uprising."

The honey bees. You were quickly brought into the group upon your arrival to the compound. You wonder if you remember Yoongi's mother at all.

"The first uprising was small but calculated, and it took out several men. Seungri, however, caught wise, and not only did he beat the woman who was sent to assassinate him, but he quickly caught onto what was happening, forcing my mother into hiding."

There is a bitterness to Yoongi's tone, and he takes another bite of food. You pause with the food you had gathered in your chopsticks, hovering just before your mouth as the realization hits you. Rumors of what happened to the old queen—the details of which were so gruesome, you never fully believed they were true. If what they say is true, then Yoongi's mother—

"Sadly," Namjoon says softly, "Yoongi's mother was found, and Seungri used her as a means to...teach the others a lesson."

"So what the honey bees said was true," you mutter, lowering your food back to your bowl.

"What did they say?" Yoongi asks, solemnly.

You squeeze your eyes closed and shake your head slowly. Although the police attempted to cover the murder and keep it out of the public's eye, word spread fast, and there was a photo that was passed along, showing up in text messages on your burner phone from unsaved numbers.

The photo was unclear, but it did not have to be detailed; you knew what it contained. Hanging by her neck from a rope, out of her penthouse apartment window, was a woman in a long back dress, with long black hair covering her face. All you had been able to make out from the image were arms and legs and a hint of neck, but you knew it was a woman. With the image always came the same message, over the course of the several years you spent in that hellhole: This is what happens to whores who think they wield power.

Your voice is shaky and sullen, and when you open your eyes, the room feels too bright. "They said she was beaten and taken to her apartment, where they hanged her from her window, and there, she died. The ph-photo..."

The urge to vomit overwhelms you, and you bury your face in your hands, squeezing your eyes closed again.

"You saw it?" Namjoon asks softly, and you nod your head.

With a sigh, you drop your hands and will yourself to open your eyes. The food before you looks amazing, but you do not have the appetite to enjoy it. Perhaps discussing this over dinner was an unwise decision.

"It was sent around every so often,” you continue. “Whenever talk of the honey bees would come to light. They knew we were still plotting but could not prove it, so they used her photo as a scare tactic."

"Within the span of three months,” Yoongi says with a heavy exhale, “I lost my father and my mother. And my wedding was called off. I can't help but loathe the woman who failed to kill Seungri," he mutters. His voice sounds broken and strained—so unlike the Yoongi you know. "But I am grateful for you. Everything changed because of you."

"Because of the queen who was brave enough to replace your mother," you say.

Yoongi takes your hand in both of his, and you turn to finally look at him. He looks weathered and tired, but when he cracks a soft smile, his eyes light up, and you cannot help but smile back.

"He is very brave," Yoongi says. "He was only a teenager when he took over. And I will protect him with my life, always."

"He?" you ask, though as soon as the word leaves your mouth, you already know. Of course, it is him. It all makes sense. "Jimin?"

Yoongi smiles wide and lifts your hand to his lips. With a soft press of a kiss against your fingers, he says, "My, aren't you a clever one?"

What followed the revelation that Jimin was the queen who ordered you to murder a man began as a numbness that covered you, which became replaced by a slow but insistent cascade of feelings, many of which were negative. You quickly ate your dinner in silence and waited for it to be time to leave. Yoongi and Namjoon seemed to pick up on your shift in mood, and neither of them pressed you for more information. They made small talk and ate as well, but the conversation had ended there.

You still have questions, but now you would like to direct them to the only person who can answer them. And he just so happens to be someone you do not want to see or speak with at the moment.

Namjoon—sweet, protective, sometimes slightly overbearing but well-intentioned Namjoon—insists you join him poolside to get some fresh air and clear your head. There is a chill in the faint breeze, and you wonder if sitting out here in the sunshine might be more effective in brightening your mood—literally and figuratively—but you had agreed to join him, if only to have an exorbitant amount of champagne while watching him strip down to his briefs and recline beside you in all his buff, tattooed glory.

Your only caveat is that you lay under one of the canopied areas on the opposite side of the pool from the mansion doors. The top of the space is open, lending a nice view of the sky, and there are proper pool beds, and mesh curtains that close, allowing you to keep some of the cool air out. Namjoon even takes the liberty of turning on a propane heater that sits between the heads of both beds, slowly warming the space from above.

You lay on a pool bed with your black a-line halter spaghetti strap dress still on and shoes kicked off, but because it is just the two of you, you bend your knees and allow the skirt to fall and gather around your hips, revealing the black satin that barely covers you underneath. Especially with even a full glass of champagne in your system—which you down in record time—you could not care less. Let the bartender see, too, you think. To hell with it all.

"You are handling everything pretty well," Namjoon says with his eyes on the sky.

From poolside, you can actually see some stars. Yoongi's property is far enough outside the city that the light pollution does not obstruct as much. But you still cannot see as many as you would like. In fact, you have no real concept of what a sky full of stars is; you have never actually left the city since arriving so many years ago.

"I'm chugging champagne," you counter Namjoon's lofty observation as you smile to the bartender, who has returned to fill your glass. He sets the remainder of the bottle on the table between you and Namjoon, and you thank the bartender sweetly, only for your expression to become a scowl as Namjoon notices, plucks the bottle away, and sets it on the floor on the opposite side of his chair.

"What I mean," Namjoon begins, partially groaning through his words as he readjusts himself on his chair and sips from his mostly full glass, "is that you are not, I don't know, throwing a fit, or something."

This makes you scoff into your glass, spraying droplets of liquid onto your knees.

"You expect me to be throwing a fit. Wow. Thanks for the vote of confidence, Joon."

There is a part of you that wants to be furious with the entire situation, and you imagine how exciting it might be to throw your champagne at Namjoon while shrieking about something or other, then storming away. But you are tired, and you do not want to waste alcohol, and Namjoon probably does not deserve that. Even if he would look fantastic startled and wet.

Namjoon shifts position and sits up, swinging his tree trunk legs over the side of the pool bed, and you ogle him openly, biting on your lower lip as your eyes scan the rest of him. Why must he be so hot while you are so emotionally messy? Curse the gods or whatever for bringing him to you in a time like this.

"I do not expect you to be throwing a fit," Namjoon says firmly, both hands gently holding his champagne glass while he watches you with sympathetic eyes. "What I meant to say was that, in your position, I would at least be visibly hurt. Probably crying. Definitely isolating myself. For you to be sitting out here with me and holding it together—champagne or not—is impressive, sweetheart."

"It is not that I'm holding it together," You say as you sit up and slowly turn to face Namjoon, but rather than return his gaze, all you can bring yourself to do is stare down at your glass of champagne. Your voice is weak, suddenly, and you swallow a lump. "I'm just bottling it up. And at some point, I will explode. I just—" a heavy sigh leaves your lungs, "—I'm just tired."

"Do you want to go to bed?" Namjoon offers.

You shake your head. No, you do not want to go to bed. But you also do not want to be awake. You just want to be numb to the world and forget. Perhaps, with Namjoon beneath you, you could do just that. After a fortifying exhale, you down your champagne and set the glass on the small table beside your pool beds.

When you finally meet Namjoon's gaze, his eyes are squinted and curious, and his lips hang slightly open. He watches you intently, following every move as you place both hands on the side of the bed and stand, stepping forward to tower over him.

"I don't want to sleep. I want to forget."

Namjoon downs his champagne and sets his glass aside, then rests his arms at his sides. His gaze is bright and intense, threatening to turn you to ash.

"Forget how?"

You shrug and nibble your lip, playing coy.

"I don't know, daddy. I need you to help me figure it out."

Namjoon's eyes flash, and you grin, taking the slight shift in demeanor as an invitation. But then he fumbles around and twists, looking for the pants he discarded on the pool bed behind his. With an index finger waving in the air, he says, "Hold on, I just...I want to get permission. Since Yoongi isn't here."

And ordinarily, you would find this gesture charming, but right now, you are mildly intoxicated and impatient, and you want to ride this beefy hunk of a man until the only thing you can remember is his name.

Also, you are annoyed, because, despite the amount of time you have spent in this mansion, by Yoongi's side, there has never been a label put on whatever it is you are doing, aside from jokes of you being a future mafia wife. So why should Yoongi be asked permission when you are not even really his, to begin with?

This, of course, contradicts all the worries you have been having about overstepping Yoongi’s boundaries and desires with regard to Namjoon being involved, but right now all you want to care about is yourself. You are not in the right mind to be worrying about much else, problematic as it may be.

You sit with a huff and fold your arms over your chest, muttering, "Just forget it."

Namjoon, however, is determined, and he types at lightning speed on his phone, ignoring your change in mood. Then he stands from his bed and says, "I'll be back in ten seconds," as he runs off.

"Way to kill the vibe," you mutter under your breath as you slump back on the pool bed. You have half a mind to return to the mansion and go to bed, but Yoongi called a late-night meeting with some of his men, and you do not want to go inside, in case they are still there.

Namjoon returns quickly, flinging the mesh curtain open, and he holds his hand out to you as he takes a seat on his pool bed while setting his phone down on the small table.

"Come here," he softly instructs.

"What was that?" you ask with an amused lift of your brows, already forgetting some of your frustration now that he is back and looking oh-so-adorable.

"I told the bartender to go home for the night," Namjoon responds as he reaches for your hand and gently tugs you back onto your feet. You put up exactly one ounce of resistance before smiling playfully and standing. "And I wanted to make sure the guys weren't still in the living room."

You turn your head and attempt to look into the large glass windows to see if you can spot anyone, but between the mesh curtain and the dark, distant room, you can not make anything out. "Are they still there?"

Namjoon shakes his head with a smirk. "They will be gone for a while. Come here."

You allow yourself to be pulled closer, and you slot one of Namjoon's legs between yours, and one of yours between his. Your tone is teasing as you ask, "And why aren't you there, performing your duties as Master Min's second in command?"

"I am performing my duties," Namjoon says as his hands snake around your waist, and he brings you so close, his chin rests against your tummy. Namjoon looks earnest, gazing up at you as he continues, "I have to make sure you are okay."

Affection blooms in your chest, and you swallow hard in an attempt to ignore it.

"And was that a direct order?" you ask in the same chiding manner as before.

Namjoon glares, but it is playful, and there is no hint of resentment behind it.

"No," he finally says. "I told him that I wanted to stay with you, and he wished me a good night."

You hum. Interesting. Although you have come to understand the love that Yoongi and Namjoon undoubtedly share, there is still a part of you that wonders if you could be a catalyst, of sorts. Sure, right now, everything is fun and exciting, but what about down the line? What sort of jealousies may arise, and what kinds of beasts will these men become?

For now, you allow yourself to bask in this moment. Namjoon's eyes slowly become dark as his hands run up your back and down to your hips. He pauses, then continues down, over your ass, and you find each exhale becoming shakier than the last.

"And you got permission from his highness to touch me?" you tease with a lift of the brow, though your voice is less steady than before.

Namjoon snickers, but his lips tug into a frown. You already know what he is thinking, and if you did not have 2 glasses of champagne and the rice wine from earlier flowing through your bloodstream, you might feel a bit guilty.

"He cares about you," Namjoon begins, and you lift a hand to press two fingers into his plush lips, effectively shutting him up.

"Don't," you mutter. "Not right now."

Namjoon nods and flays his fingers so his grip on your ass is wider, firmer. He gives you a squeeze, and your breath hitches. Then, he tugs you downward, forcing you to fumble to straddle him and sit down. You rest your hands on Namjoon's shoulders as you settle onto his lap, sitting with your knees on the bed and your short black skirt bunched up around your hips.

"Show me how you fuck his highness," Namjoon growls as his hands slide up your back and tug you impossibly close.

This makes you gasp, and Namjoon takes the opportunity to lick into your mouth, pulling a moan from deep within your chest as arousal floods your senses. Suddenly, you return to feeling like perhaps you are doing something wrong by getting so intimate with Namjoon without Yoongi around. There is no label on what the two of you are, but you have also been exclusive to one another until now.

You hate that you feel an inkling of hesitation, but you sink into the feeling and suck Namjoon's bottom lip between your teeth to drown out the nagging voice that tells you to go slow. Namjoon moans, his fingers dig into your back, and there is no other place you want to be in this moment.

"Lay down," you instruct against Namjoon's lips, and he groans as he begins to scoot back, quite haphazardly.

You wiggle from his grasp and stand, watching as Namjoon swings his legs up onto the bed—trailing your eyes down his toned, tattooed chest, over his soft but muscular tummy, past the dizzying bulge in his briefs, to those thick fucking thighs.

Once Namjoon is settled, you waste no time climbing on top of him and settling onto his hips. Namjoon's hands find your ass and he pulls you down against him, raking his erection over your core and sending a shiver down your spine as your head lolls back from the feeling.

"I want you so fucking bad," Namjoon groans, sliding his hands up your back and pulling you down, against him.

You crash into Namjoon's chest and kiss his jaw, his neck, his throat—anywhere you can reach in frenzied, hurried movements, and Namjoon uses his fingertips to gather the fabric of your short black dress and hike the skirt up past your hips. Floral notes blend with Namjoon's musk and make you dizzy as you kiss and explore lower, marking him with saliva and desire. You have no bra beneath the halter-style top, and your hard nipples rub against the soft fabric as you move down Namjoon's chest with your lips, teeth, and tongue.

Namjoon's skin tastes slightly sweet with a hint of salty sweat, and you move to the right to play with his nipple, flicking and nibbling and making him gasp. He writhes beneath you, rolling his cock into your tummy as you tease and taste him.

"Fuck," Namjoon gasps, gently taking you by the head while half-sitting up, as if desperate to kiss you. You comply and lean forward, crashing your lips against his as you force him to lay back down.

"Please," Namjoon whines, and you grin against his lips before giving his bottom one a little bite, making him gasp.

"Please, what, Joonie?"

"I need you."

Your grin widens, and you mock him with a sweet lilt to your voice. "But you have me."

"Please," Namjoon whines again. "Please fuck me. You have no idea how badly I need you."

You sit up, placing your hands on Namjoon's chest as leverage, but also to hold him down. "You sound so pretty when you beg, Joonie."

"Please."

You tip your head to the side and roll your core against his erection, moaning as your panties dampen.

"Tell me how badly you need me."

Namjoon groans and grips onto your tights with both hands.

"I need to feel your tight pussy squeeze more than just my fingers. I need to fuck you."

A thrilling shiver runs through you.

"Is that so?"

"Please."

And as much as you would love to lay down and command Namjoon to make you cum with his mouth and fingers before he can have you on his cock, you do not want to waste any time. Despite Namjoon saying the guys will be gone for a while, you want to get the show on the road—you don't exactly want to be caught. That is, unless Yoongi returns alone and decides to join you.

"Wait," Namjoon says, lifting his hand to your cheek once more and gently taking you by the face. He sits up halfway, propped onto his other elbow. "I want to make sure that you know I'm not just in this for sex. I want to fall for you entirely, and love every part of you."

Your hands slip from Namjoon's shoulders and fall to your sides as an icy chill runs through you. Fall for you. Love. These phrases are too intense—too demanding for where your headspace is right now—and you feel horrified by the thought.

Love is not something you have ever afforded yourself. Love is a surefire way to go supernova—to collapse on yourself like a dying star—burning too bright and too hot before becoming nothing but scattered remains in cold, otherwise empty space; dusty fragments of what used to be bright warmth.

Namjoon must sense your change in mood because he sits all the way up and attempts to wrap his arms around you. You flinch and scramble to your feet, getting the hell off of the pool bed and away from the man on it.

"Wait," Namjoon pleas as he swings his legs over the side of the bed, "what did I say?"

You shake your head and back up until your calves hit the bed you previously occupied and you sit down, slumped with your arms around your torso. You acknowledge that there have been times of weakness during which you have allowed yourself to think you have been falling for Yoongi—times in which he has made you feel cared for and desired.

But those moments were fleeting. Those moments were left unspoken.

This...this profession of love—of the desire to love—this is too much.

"I need to go," you mutter as you stand. "I'm sorry."

You scurry out of the canopy, toward the mansion doors and scramble to grab onto the handle and push it open despite Namjoon showing no sign of following you. As you enter the empty hall and turn to pull the door shut, you glance in his direction to find him sitting with his head in his hands, elbows resting on his knees. You feel a slight tinge of guilt, but you turn away before the tinge can grow into a full smudge for you to wish to eradicate and fix.

The mansion is eerie at night—dark and silent and empty. As you run up the stairs, you keep your eyes fixed ahead, and when you reach your bedroom, you throw the door open and closed, locking the knob before crawling into your bed and pulling the covers over your head. A faint glow comes into your window from a single light outside which allows cameras to see the perimeter of that area of the house, but otherwise, your room is completely dark.

Under your cover, where it is warm, silent, and completely absent of professions of love, you close your eyes and steady your breathing until you eventually fall asleep.

You are surprised, when you wake up, to find the sun shining brightly. Nobody has come knocking at your door.

A feeling of sadness washes over you as you sit up and stretch, but you remind yourself that you are alone because you made the choice to be alone, and that you have nothing to feel sad about. Still, you are a bit disappointed to find that Yoongi had not bothered checking in at all.

You get out of bed and make your way to the closet to change out of last night's dress and into matching black sweatpants and sweater. Then, you slide on some black slippers and shut off your closet light, and make your way to your bedroom door. Although you have no idea whether anyone is home, you want to grab a bite to eat.

When you open your door, you are surprised to find Changbin standing in front of the entrance, with his back to you and his arms crossed over his chest. Excitement for seeing him after so long rises, then quickly dissipates as he shakes his head and says, "I have been instructed to not let you out until Yoongi comes for you."

Confusion hits first, then frustration. "You wh—"

"Please return to your room," Changbin says firmly, still refusing to turn his body to face you. "Yoongi will be with you shortly."

With a huff, you back into your room and shove the door shut, surprised by how loudly it slams—you had not meant to be so forceful, but you also made no attempt to be gentle. Then, you return to bed, with nothing else to do, abandoning your slippers to the floor, and pull the comforter back over your head. Sure, there are books and magazines you could read, and it would feel nice to take a shower, but sulking is the easiest, most convenient option, and, frankly, you feel too overcome with emotion to do anything else.

Between Changbin and Felix, you are not quite as close to Changbin. But you still thought there was some level of friendliness between the two of you. Whatever he exhibited on the mezzanine was cold.

"Whatever," you mutter to yourself as you squeeze your eyes shut to prevent tears from falling over.

Fuck Changbin, fuck Yoongi, and Namjoon, and Jimin. Fuck every person who has ever made you feel small and disposable. And, worse yet, fuck every person who has made you question whether or not you could be worthy of love. The world is cold and unyielding, and you are not going to be a pawn in that stupid game.

You breathe in deeply, through your nose, and out slowly, through your mouth, then you count backward from three hundred to ground yourself and to distract your mind from wandering to the depths of hell. Tears run hot down your cheeks, and you slow your breathing as gasps and sobs rock through you, all the while, you do your best not to acknowledge them. It is too hot under your cover, and you allow the enveloping warmth to remind you that you are present—that you are alive.

As you mutter, "Two hundred twenty-three," there is a knock at your door—gentle and familiar. Patient.

With an exasperated sigh, you fling the cover from over your head and roll into the fetal position away from the door, responding, "What?" as sharply as you can. And as the door cracks open, you squeeze your eyes shut.

"Darling?" Yoongi calls softly.

You do not respond.

A sigh follows the sound of the door being closed. You hold your breath in anticipation for a touch or sound that does not come.

Then, suddenly, a long moment later, a floorboard before you creaks, and a warm hand rests on your knee. Despite being somewhat surprised, you do not flinch.

"Care to tell me what is bothering you?" Yoongi asks softly, and boy howdy, would you love to give him a piece of your mind.

You open your eyes, careful to maintain a perfect scowl of your brows and lips. Yoongi looks beautiful squatting before you with his hair growing further past his ears, twisting at the ends with a volume you never knew possible. He is also wearing a tee and sweatpants, despite the sun being high enough for it to be late morning, if not noon.

"Why did Changbin refuse to let me leave my room?"

Yoongi is expressionless, but his voice is tender. "Because that was the order he was given."

You squint your eyes harder. "Yeah. No shit. Why?"

With a sigh, Yoongi removes his hand from your knee, but he remains in a squatted position.

"I was having a conversation that I did not wish for you to overhear."

"About what?"

A scoff rocks Yoongi, forcing him to readjust his footing. He shakes his head. "You are impossible."

The smile that tugs on Yoongi's pretty lips almost forms a crack in your hard exterior, and you look away from him, at your hand, which is resting palm down on the bed, beside your face.

"It was nothing that pertains to you," Yoongi continues. "And it is not that I don't trust you. I just have to be careful, sometimes. This was between only two family men and myself."

"And you could not have gone into another room or something to discuss it," you mutter sadly, feeling your anger washed away and replaced by a pathetic, overwhelming aching in your chest.

"No," Yoongi laughs. "I will discuss business in my own home wherever I please. Everyone else will bend to those needs. That is how it is."

You roll your eyes, resolved on being difficult.

"Charming."

A moment of silence comes, and you welcome it. You tell yourself to stop being such a brat—to stop being dead set on taking something personally when there does not seem to be a real issue. Then, you swallow a lump that threatens to bring with it another myriad of emotions and nearly open your mouth to apologize when Yoongi sighs.

"Darling, will you please tell me what is bothering you?"

At this you force yourself to sit up with a low groan, hanging your legs over the edge of the bed while hugging your arms around your torso. At this point, you just feel silly. You would rather not tell Yoongi what is bothering you.

You shrug.

"It's fine. I just—I don't know—I don't like feeling like a prisoner in my own home. Perhaps I should keep my phone available more so that you can communicate with me more directly."

"Having direct access to you would be nice."

Your eyes flit up to find Yoongi watching you with a sullen expression along with something else. Something soft. Something affectionate.

"Namjoon said something last night that made me...uncomfortable," you admit.

"He told me."

Of course, he did. You can't help but wonder what else Namjoon said to Yoongi last night. And whether Namjoon slept in Yoongi's bed last night. Perhaps, you think, Namjoon did a little more than sleep in Yoongi's bed last night.

"What did he tell you?"

Yoongi shakes his head and smiles softly. "Only that he was trying to assure you that he was not using you for sex and you got upset and left for bed."

"Upset," you say with a chuckle.

"What was it that bothered you about what he said?"

You appreciate what Yoongi is trying to do—for you and for Namjoon—but this is a conversation that you do not want to be having with him. At least, not at the moment.

"I don't really want to talk about this right now."

"Fine."

You are a bit surprised by Yoongi's response but you do not question it. There was a time when you saw Yoongi as the kind of man who behaved as if he was owed all information about all things. And now, here he is, accepting no as an answer. Or, perhaps, he is accepting the idea of not yet as an answer. Perhaps he does expect access to your thoughts at some point in the near future.

Love—and your aversion to it—is a conversation you and Yoongi will likely need to have. Especially if you are going to continue living under this roof as...whatever it is you are to him. Especially if Namjoon is to be included. Namjoon, who very clearly loves Yoongi. Namjoon, who Yoongi very clearly loves, in return.

"Are you up for joining me at an event tomorrow evening?" Yoongi asks.

This question surprises you, but, then again, Yoongi has never been one to give you warning for anything, always telling you about something mere moments before it is set to happen.

"What type of event?"

"There are some important men who will be at the casino. I would like to have you by my side, at least for part of the evening. If you would like to run off to the nightclub after the appearance, or be escorted back home, we can arrange that."

You swallow a new lump—a lump of trepidation and uncertainty.

"Will I be appearing with the ring on my finger?"

"Yes." Silence for a few beats, then, "So will you join me?"

You nod your head without giving it any thought. "Yes."

"Good."

Yoongi's phone rings, and he pulls it out of his pocket with a grimace, which fades when he sees Jimin's bright smile on the screen. You cower and look away, still not ready to face those feelings, just yet. He answers the phone immediately.

"Hello?"

You tip your head and Yoongi stands, holding up a finger to excuse himself as he says, "Jiminah, I could never be mad at you. Tell me what is happening. What do you need?"

Concern washes over you, but you settle back into bed, staring at the ceiling. This day already feels like a wash, and you decide instead to look forward to the event tomorrow, when you can dress up and play house, and pretend that everything is okay.

It had not occurred to you until you found yourself standing at your vanity, smoothing out your black satin gown, that you would probably have to see Jimin again. You and Jimin have not spoken since the bath a few days ago, and now you know how your paths have crossed in the past, but you have not quite had the time to reconcile everything.

A gentle knock at your door pulls you from your thoughts, and although you know that knock to belong to Yoongi, you still hold your breath as he slowly pushes the door ajar just enough to pop his head inside.

"Darling," Yoongi says with a wide smile, "I've come to see how you are feeling."

You force a smile, feeling a sudden, overwhelming urge to cry, and you take a deep, slow breath.

"Fine."

"I—" Yoongi begins, then he stands straight and takes a step into the room. He wears a white button-up with a very pronounced, pointed lapel, tucked into black satin slacks. His hair is styled to look wild and voluminous, tucked perfectly behind one ear while cascading in front of the other. You want to run your fingers through it, but there is definitely product holding the balance of keeping that mane looking both tamed and untamable.

"You wore white," you mutter before he has a chance to say whatever is on his mind. "Should I change?"

Yoongi shakes his head and smiles. "No, you look perfect, darling. I will have a black satin jacket on; we will match."

"White heels, then, perhaps," you suggest, thinking about your rows and rows of shoes. There is a pair of white pointed-toe heels that would be perfect.

Yoongi hums, then approaches, placing both hands gently on your biceps. "About your makeup...I tried to call in a favor from someone who used to work for me in the past, but she—"

"Just send Jimin in," you say without giving it any thought, already somewhat prepared for this situation.

Yoongi could probably hire a professional makeup artist to come to the mansion last minute if he wanted to. It is clear that he does not want to. If the only person who he feels safe bringing into the house is Jimin, then you will have to face your emotions sooner than you hoped for.

"Are you sure?" Yoongi asks, sounding concerned.

You nod and look him in the eye to solidify that you mean it.

"Hurry," you tease with a fake smile. "We don't have all night."

Yoongi chuckles and nods, then releases your arms and leaves the room. All there is left to do is wait. Although, you imagine that it was Jimin who did Yoongi's hair, so you probably do not have to wait long.

Your gown for the evening is simple and strapless, with a square bodice that slightly cinches at the waist before cascading straight down to your toes. The fabric is ruched and rippled, and there is a slit on the right side, showing a generous amount of leg. You run your hands over the fabric in an attempt to ground yourself, staring at the shiny black fabric in the mirror.

By the time there is another soft knock at the door, you feel calm. Well, as calm as possible, considering the circumstances.

The door creeps open, and in peeks a familiar cherubic face with freshly colored brown hair. It shines in the light with hints of auburn, and you smile at how perfectly him it is.

"New hair," you mutter, and Jimin blushes, eyes falling to the floor. "It suits you. You look radiant."

Despite a lot of makeup doing an impressive job at blending over Jimin's eye, you can see hints of bruising, and a faint scab where his lip had been split. The average person may not notice, though; that is how good Jimin is.

"Dove, I—"

You shake your head and wave Jimin into the room. Now is not the time for getting sappy over feelings and emotions.

"We can talk later, yeah?" you offer. "I do not want to get too emotional only for you to have to reapply my mascara over and over again."

This lightens the, mood and Jimin chuckles.

"Fair enough."

House of Cards is a raucous affair, with the noises from the machines and the sounds of men shouting overwhelming you the moment you walk through the front door. On your arm, Yoongi nods and cracks a smile at certain men, guiding you toward the center of the large, chaotic hall.

Behind you, Namjoon and most of the other family men follow in black suits with guns strapped beneath their arms and on the waistband of their pants. The only men missing from the bunch are Seokjin and Jeongguk.

Although you keep your gaze forward, staring at the craps table in the center of the room, you can feel the stares of others. Women whispering, men muttering. You find it entertaining how dreadfully obvious they are being, despite their feeble attempts at being hush-hush.

As you approach the center of the room, Yoongi leans down, gives you his winning smile, and asks, "What would the lady like to drink, tonight?"

There is a light dusting of charcoal grey around Yoongi's eyes that makes them sharper and more intense, and as he leans to speak to you, his hair falls gently over his cheek, as if providing the two of you a little curtain of privacy. Yoongi is so fucking handsome—so charming in a way that twists your insides into knots. You want to reach over and kiss him until the two of you are left gasping for air—want to know only the warmth of his skin and the smell of his musk.

"Whiskey neat," you respond with a smirk, watching as Yoongi's eyes light up.

"Coming right up," Yoongi responds with a gentle kiss to your cheek, before stepping away and forcing your hand to slide off of his arm.

Namjoon steps in, eyes forward and posture straight as a board, and you resist the urge to grab him.

"Namjoon," you begin, "I wanted t—"

"Not here."

Namjoon's voice is deep and serious, taking on a tone that you only ever hear when he is working. It makes you sad to have to see this side of him after getting to see his softer sides, as well, but you are out in public with Yoongi, after all, so everything emotional and soft has to be left behind, enclosed safely within the mansion walls.

"You're right," you respond simply, rolling your shoulders back to keep your posture straight while you turn your gaze to the right, to Yoongi. He stands at the bar where you notice Seokjin and Jeongguk sitting, and he is leaning down and saying something to Jeongguk that makes the younger laugh. You scoff, always unable to believe your eyes whenever you witness Jeongguk laughing.

Yoongi taps Jeongguk on the underside of the chin with two fingertips—a motion you have never seen before. It makes Jeongguk scowl in an affectionate way, like a younger sibling being teased by an older sibling. Then, Yoongi takes two glasses and brings them over, and before you can reach for yours, Namjoon pops open a small plastic container and pulls out a thin paper strip. You watch as Namjoon dips the strip in one drink, then rests it on the edge of the glass as he pulls out another strip and does the same with the second drink.

"We'll head upstairs in a moment," Yoongi mutters to you over the drinks in his hands. "How are you holding up?"

You nod and glance between the strips and Yoongi.

"I'm fine."

"Your feet?" Yoongi asks, having helped you into the strappy heels.

A smile breaks over your face, which you attempt to contain.

"They are fine."

"Good."

There it is, again—that soft, affectionate gaze that makes you want to run for the hills as fast as possible and never look back. You find it hard to look Yoongi in the eye and instead take in the room—or, as much of it as you can with two men standing in your bubble.

"Both are negative," Namjoon announces, removing the strips and pocketing them.

Yoongi holds out one of the glasses, and you take it, tapping the edge to the side of his before having a sip. The whiskey is bittersweet, coating your tongue and leaving a slight burn in its wake as it glides down your throat.

"Shall we, darling?" Yoongi asks as he holds out his elbow toward you, leaning in a bit closer.

As you change which hand is holding onto your drink, you catch the glimmer of your engagement ring and pause to stare. Ever since the night he proposed at this very casino, you have not worn in. It has lived inside its pretty blue box on your bedside table, where you have effectively forgotten about it.

It is unfair, you think, that the only time you will get to wear such a gorgeous piece of jewelry is in a game of make-believe. But, then again, you have made the choice to be the person who does not fall in love. And, should you and Yoongi decide to actually get married, regardless of what he tells you, you are aware that even that union will be a strategic move, and nothing more.

"Something the matter?" Yoongi asks quietly, and you snap from your thoughts to turn to him.

You shake your head and crack a measured smile while snaking your arm beneath Yoongi's and grabbing onto his bicep.

"Sorry. It's so easy to get distracted here."

"It is overwhelming, I know," Yoongi responds as he leads you past the craps table, to a set of elevator doors. "Once I meet with these men, you can be free to go."

You enter the elevator and take your place in front of the closing doors, still holding onto Yoongi's arm. And although you would like to get out of this place—and this dress and these shoes—as soon as possible, you find you do not really want to leave Yoongi's side.

The evening seems to be winding down, which is great news because you are exhausted. Yoongi met with some men—none of whom introduced themselves to you—and then you excused yourself to the nightclub across the way from the convention room, where you sat at the bar and drank free whiskey all night. There was a fleeting moment of wanting to join everyone on the dancefloor, but in your heels, your feet would be begging you for mercy, so instead, you swayed on a barstool while the servers kept you company.

From where you sit, you have had a clear sight of Yoongi and his cohorts, and the other suits, milling about. Most notable has been Namjoon, who has stood in the center of the room with his arms folded over his chest and his posture straight since the moment you arrived.

Namjoon, with his hair growing out just as everyone else's is. Namjoon, whose gaze lingers just a bit too long on Yoongi—whose lips downturn just a hint as he seems to get lost in thought.

You wonder what Namjoon is feeling in times like these when he is not allowed to be the one on Yoongi's arm. You wonder if he resents you because you are.

"Dove," Jimin's soft voice calls, and you turn to find him leaning against the bar, elbow on the wood with the rest of his body angled toward you.

"Hey, you."

"We are just about ready to go if you are."

You nod and twist in your seat, then set the glass down, half-full of whiskey, as you slide off the stool. Jimin smirks, grabs the glass, and gulps the whiskey, then places a hand on your lower back to guide you out into the hallway.

"When would you like to talk?" Jimin asks softly.

With a soft sigh, you stop and turn to him, then wrap your arms around his waist. And perhaps it is unwise to be affectionate towards another man in public—god only knows who may be watching you—but you squeeze Jimin tight and run a hand up his back before releasing.

"I'm not mad at you," you mutter, swallowing down your emotions. "I understand why you gave the order. I'm—I'm proud that I was able to kill him."

And it is true—every last word. Although your feelings on the matter are complicated, you are glad to have put a horrible man to death. You are proud to have avenged Yoongi’s mother.

Tears sneak past your lids and run down your cheeks, and you sniffle and turn your face away, feeling silly for getting so emotional. You blame it on being intoxicated despite having most of your wits about you, still.

"I feel a little bad," Jimin says. "I have always wanted to apologize. And to thank you. I just never knew how to bring it up."

You chuckle and wipe away the tears on your cheeks, feeling lighter even after such a short cry.

"I suppose you couldn't just casually bring it up before we really knew each other."

"Hey, you know that guy you killed," Jimin says in a playful tone, "that was done on my order. Anyway, my name is Jimin, nice to meet you!"

Laughter rocks through you, and you smack Jimin on the arm before shoving him toward the door to the conference hall. It feels nice to have the air clear, and although there is more you would like to discuss, for now, you are happy with leaving it where it is. No part of you wants to hold a grudge, especially against sweet, wonderful Jimin.

As you enter the conference room, Yoongi looks up with a wide smile, eyes trailing between you and Jimin. You can sense the relief coming from him, and you smile in return.

All the men have left the room, save for Namjoon and Jeongguk, who stand off to the side discussing something with their backs turned to the room. You and Jimin approach Yoongi, and you snake your hands inside his jacket and lean against his chest, hoping your makeup does not smudge his pretty white shirt.

"Let's get you home," Yoongi grumbles against your head. "I want Namjoon to come with us, alright?"

You nod and hold Yoongi tighter, closing your eyes. The level of intoxication that you feel is just high enough for you to comfortably voice everything that overwhelmed you the night before, so you have no worries about Namjoon joining. At least, you hope so.

After a blissful moment of breathing in autumn mornings and sweet musk, you release Yoongi and allow him to guide you toward the elevator. The others join, somewhat crowding your space, and although you are a bit drunk, and your body is tired, and your feet are aching, you feel good.

It is a calm feeling that embraces you like a warm hug—tender and firm. You wrap your arms around Yoongi's bicep and lean your head against his shoulder. Through the hazy, distorted reflection of the elevator doors, you think you can see him smile.

Rather than exit through the casino, you take the elevator down to a basement level which opens into a parking structure. As the doors swing open, you make your exit, but Yoongi walks a little slower—hangs back while the others filter around. Then, he bends and picks you up bridal-style, causing you to yelp and wrap your arms around his neck.

"You have been in those heels all day, darling," Yoongi mutters.

You cannot help but smile.

"I told you, I'm fine."

Yoongi chuckles and nuzzles his nose against your neck.

"Of course you are fine. You're incredible. But it is okay to have some relief from time to time, even if the situation is not dire. Let me carry you, darling."

All at once, it feels like your heart is being squeezed tightly and you forget how to breathe. You lean into Yoongi and bury your face into his shoulder and neck, doing your best to ignore the feelings that burst and bloom within you. Whatever it is, it seems ominous and terrifying and wonderful. Best to just ignore it, you think.

The sound of a car door opening makes you release your hold on Yoongi, and you lean back and wait for him to set you down. As soon as he does, your feet ache once more, and you feel grateful for the moment of reprieve. As you clamber into the backseat, you notice Namjoon is driving. Jimin and Jeongguk must have gotten into the black car that is pulling out beside you, because as soon as Yoongi gets into the back seat with you, Namjoon begins backing out of the spot.

Yoongi clears his throat. "Would now be a good time to talk about what happened last night?"

Unease hits your guts, and you take a deep breath, slowly letting it out. You would like to get everything out into the open, even if it feels uncomfortable.

"Hyung—" Namjoon whines.

"Namjoon didn't do anything wrong," you interrupt, watching as Namjoon glances into the rearview mirror, then back at the road. "You didn't. Really. You just..."

The familiar lump that has been attempting to suffocate you creeps back into your throat and you take a fortifying breath and swallow it down. Perhaps, you think, it will be easier to direct your words to Yoongi, so you turn your body and take his hand in yours. It feels warm and safe. Grounding.

"Namjoon tried to assure me that whatever was going on between us was not just physical. He said he wanted to fall for me entirely and love every part of me."

Yoongi hums in understanding and does not press you to say more. You give his hand a squeeze. Unsure how to voice your thoughts coherently, you open your mouth and let the words tumble out, haphazard and shaky.

"Love...is not something I have ever...imagined could be mine."

Tears threaten to rise, and in the dark backseat under a sky full of hidden stars, you let them. Namjoon taps his fingers on the steering wheel and you wonder if he is grappling with his thoughts.

"Darling," Yoongi rasps, and you glance up at him, taking in the soft smile that plays on his lips, and a gaze that is warm and inviting. "I know that it might be scary, especially if you come from a past of feeling unloved, but, as long as you are in this family, love is something you will have in abundance."

Yoongi's words are nice, but that is all that they are. Just nice words, meant to make you feel better. But they do not make you feel better. They make you feel pitied.

But then, Yoongi continues, with eyes appearing a bit sadder than before. "You know I'm falling in love with you...right?"

And there it is again, that suffocating tightness in your throat. Your blood turns to ice, weighing you down, making you feel cumbersome and heavy. If only you could get out of the sedan, maybe flee the country.

Instead, you let go of Yoongi's hands and sit back against the cold leather as your eyes trail around to the window. There is a voice at the back of your mind telling you that Yoongi is lying, that he could not possibly love you, that nobody could possibly love you. It nags and nags, threatening to tear your heart asunder and leave you to bleed out, pathetic and empty, for all the world to see.

But you know, deep down, that he means it. At least, to some small extent. Perhaps not the full-blown love that causes men to wage war and pen sonnets, but a smaller, gentler love that feels like sunshine breaking through the clouds on a cool autumn morning. That love, you can come to accept, you think.

Or, at the very least, you can try.

As Namjoon pulls into Yoongi's driveway, panic takes over. Your heart pounds loud in your ears and heavy in your chest, and you close your eyes as the gates slowly swing open and Namjoon drives forward. You do not want to face them, in the mansion, with things left unsaid and no distractions in the way. Not when what has been unsaid are things you do not want to put into words.

Namjoon parks the sedan, and you open your eyes and sit up. The entire ride, you had not worn your seatbelt and you try not to dwell on how symbolic it feels to be untethered with your life in their hands. The men get out first, in tandem, but you stare ahead at the back of the black leather passenger seat, wishing your thoughts would just slow the fuck down and let you breathe.

The door opens and your gaze falls downward, to the black trim along the edge of the car opening. You turn your body to exit, and you are stopped by a hand on your arm—fingers tan and slender. Namjoon.

"I'm sorry that what I said to you last night was upsetting," Namjoon says in a low, calm tone. "We won't talk about it again until you are ready."

Your voice is shaky and weak. "And if I am never ready?"

"Then we will never talk about it again," Namjoon responds without hesitation.

You nod, and although you do not glance at Namjoon, you can picture the earnest look on his face, and for now, that is enough.

Namjoon lets go of your arm and holds out his hand. You hesitate but reach for it and allow yourself to be tugged out of the vehicle and onto concrete, where your feet are far more sore than they were before, now that they have had a chance to really settle and swell. You wince as your feet hit the ground, and Namjoon wastes no time scooping you up, into his arms, just as Yoongi had back at the casino.

Yoongi closes the door, then takes the lead to unlock the mansion, and Namjoon carries you up the short steps and through the threshold, very quietly humming a tune you cannot quite make out. Then, Yoongi closes and locks the mansion door, then begins to unclasp your shoes, and you rest your head against Namjoon's chest, feeling his heart beat in a steady rhythm. How absurd, you think, that this heart might also beat for you.

Namjoon continues to hum, the sound vibrating in his chest, and you hear Yoongi removing his shoes, letting out small huffs and grunts as he does. Then, Namjoon hands you off to Yoongi, and you wrap your arms tight around his neck, nuzzling into his skin.

"What song is that?" you ask, muffled in Yoongi's shirt.

Namjoon finishes humming the line he is on, then says, "Park Sungyeon."

"The wind is blowing," Yoongi says, and Namjoon hums in acknowledgment.

"It's nice," you say.

Shoes hit the floor, one after another, and then Yoongi is turning with you toward the stairs. Floorboards creak from time to time underfoot, and the sound of a grandfather clock ticks loudly in the otherwise silent mansion. The mansion has a scent of its own—something sweet and faintly woody. Sometimes a bit floral. It smells like home, especially after such an emotional day.

"I forgot to ask you if it is alright that Namjoon stays with us, tonight," Yoongi grumbles as the first stair groans from your combined weight. "I only meant for him to come back and discuss what had happened, and I understand if you need some space."

"You don't have to ask," you respond. "I never want Namjoon to not be here, unless that is what he wants."

You glance over Yoongi's shoulder to find Namjoon—two steps below you—smiling softly while looking down at his feet. It is not enough of a smile to bring dimples to his cheeks, but it is genuine and heartfelt and it makes your heart ache a little.

Once upstairs, Yoongi turns to his room, and Namjoon scurries ahead to open the door for the two of you. Inside, there is already a lamp on. You prefer the room dim with a nice golden glow, and you are thankful that the others seem to feel the same.

On the opposite end of the room sits a comically large dark blue sofa, facing the same wall the headboard of the bed is against, with a small wooden table in front of it, and you cock your head at the sight.

"You've done some decorating?" you ask, wondering when the hell that got there.

"Looks like the guys got finished while we were at House of Cards," Yoongi says, turning to look at the newly added furniture. "I thought that, since you have moments of wanting some alone time, especially when my men are crowding the living room, I would give you something more than a bed to sit on. A television will be installed on the wall tomorrow afternoon, and anything else you may need, I will buy."

A sweet gesture, though you cannot help but laugh at the thought of living solely in Yoongi's bedroom. Still, the couch looks soft—and thankfully, it is not velvet and gaudy like the one in the main hall.

"Can we sit on the couch?" you ask.

Yoongi nuzzles his nose against your neck, just below your ear.

"Trying to break in the new furniture already, darling?"

The thought hadn't crossed your mind, but now that he has said it—

"May as well."

Yoongi takes you over to the couch, bends, and sets you down so that you are lying in the center of it. The material is soft, and the cushions are just firm enough, and you stretch your arms and legs, taking up as much space as you can while your back arches.

"I love it," you groan.

"Should have gotten something bigger," Yoongi chides. "No room for us."

You spread your legs, dropping your right leg—which hangs from the skirt's slit—to the floor.

"There's room for you right here, sir."

Without a word, Yoongi unbuttons his blazer and drops it to the floor. He makes his way over as he unbuttons his sleeves, and begins rolling them up to his elbows.

"And me?" Namjoon asks.

You purse your lips in thought, then smirk.

"That depends, Joonie. Would you prefer my mouth on you...or your mouth on him?"

Namjoon's lips fall open in the cutest, dopiest look of uncertainty you are sure you have ever seen, and he takes a good long while to consider the options.

Then, Namjoon says, "Baby boy, take your pants off for me," as he drops his jacket to the floor and begins to unbutton his shirt, and your heart begins to pound at just the thought alone.

Yoongi stands and turns to Namjoon as his hands fall to his belt saying, "Yes, daddy."

And as Namjoon untucks his unbuttoned shirt, and shrugs it to the floor, giving you an eyeful of that glorious torso of his, he says, "I'm going to fuck you while you fuck her. Sound good?"

Yoongi whimpers as you gasp, and as Namjoon pulls Yoongi into a sloppy, desperate kiss, Yoongi groans, "Yes, daddy," against his lips.

Watching Yoongi melt into Namjoon's arms sparks something within you. You have watched Yoongi torture a man as if it were nothing, and here he is, turning into putty in the hands of another. Strong, feared Yoongi—the head of the Min family, which holds so much of Korea in its palm. With each whimper of his throat and tremble of his hands, you shiver with desire.

"Undress for me and get on your knees," Namjoon commands. "You have to make her cum twice before I let you cum once, understand?"

"Yes, daddy," Yoongi responds as he finishes undoing his pants and dropping them, along with his briefs, to the ground. As he steps out of the garments, he unbuttons his shirt, and shrugs it away and returns to the couch.

"Make you cum twice?" Yoongi chides with a smirk as he settles between your legs and gets onto his knees on the cushion. "Easy."

His sudden change in demeanor has warmth flooding your cheeks, and you bite your bottom lip as Yoongi gathers your skirt and pushes it up to your tummy. He wastes no time taking you by the hips and yanking you to where he wants you, and you gasp as his mouth makes contact with your clothed cunt. Even his light touch obstructed by fabric makes you jump, and arousal pools and quakes through you as Yoongi teases you with his tongue and lips.

Namjoon undresses to his briefs and gets down on his knees behind Yoongi, and you decide that you want to have mirrors installed on the far wall so that the next time whatever is about to transpire does so again, you can see it too.

Yoongi tugs your panties to the slide and licks a thick, slow stripe through your slit, swirling his tongue over your clit, and you moan as the pleasure overwhelms your senses, doing your best to resist the urge to claw the fabric beneath you. Then, Yoongi lets out a deep, needy moan, partially muffled by your pussy, and you nearly pass out from the sound.

"Fuck, I wish I could watch him eat you out," you whine as Yoongi continues to lap at your cunt in hungry, sloppy movements.

Yoongi moans and trembles between your thighs, and you reach down to gently take him by the hair. With the challenge that Namjoon has set, you wonder if you can tease him a little before you are able to cum twice. Slurping comes from behind Yoongi, and he gasps and groans—saccharine and thick. Your own pleasure builds quickly, especially with the addition of Yoongi being pleasured, and you give his hair gentle tugs, making him whine.

A finger gently prods at your entrance, and you arch your back, already so overcome with ecstasy that the thought of just one of Yoongi's long, knobby fingers is enough to make your head spin. There is some shifting on the couch, and you hear Namjoon's voice rasp.

"Fingering, already? That means I finger you, baby. You sure you can handle that?"

Yoongi groans as if being faced with an impossibly unfair decision, and you let out a soft giggle. The indignance in his voice feels so uncharacteristic, and yet he still very much sounds like your Yoongi.

My Yoongi, you think again, as warmth and uncertainty erupts in your chest.

Yoongi's mouth returns to pleasure you, and you moan and arch your back, lost in the spell his lips and tongue cast on you. Drowning in his own pleasure, Yoongi moans, and whimpers against you, and it sets your nerves on fire, knowing he is being savored just as he savors you.

Your pleasure builds quickly, reaching its peak, and you take Yoongi by the hair once more, gently tugging. "I'm so close," you whine. "Please, don't stop."

Yoongi's tongue makes measured movements over your clit, licking and sucking in a glorious rhythm that sends you softly over the edge. It is not an intense, overwhelming orgasm but a gentle one that leaves your fingertips and toes tingling and your head spinning.

As soon as you ride your high and the tremble in your limbs settles, Yoongi slips a finger inside you. You moan and grip onto the edge of the sofa, arousal flooding all of your senses. Namjoon must get the memo and begin to finger Yoongi because his movements falter, and his body trembles between your thighs.

"That's it, baby. Breathe," Namjoon says, voice dangerously deep.

It takes a moment for Yoongi to gain his composure, but soon he begins to finger you hard and fast, movements precise and unwavering. His time is clearly limited now that Namjoon's finger is inside him, and he seems to be doing his damnedest to get you off as quickly as possible.

The pleasure is overwhelming, and you moan and writhe beneath him, too distracted by your own arousal to watch as he begins to slip away. It is only when his fingers falter, and his hair brushes your thigh before his head fully rests against you, that you realize Yoongi is on the brink of total collapse.

Yoongi's lips find your clit once more, and he sucks softly as his finger works your sweet spot over and over, sending you hurtling once more to the edge. This time, it is intense and overwhelming, and the heat inside you snaps like a wire pulled tautly.

"Fuck!" you cry out as Yoongi's onslaught continues, and he alternates sucking and licking in quick, hungry circles.

You moan Yoongi's name, drawing out the second syllable like a hymn, and he moans and whimpers, muffled against your cunt as he does everything to push you through your high, to the other side.

Every inch of you is on fire, and you stare ahead at the ceiling as your pleasure evens out and begins to fade. Yoongi's whimpers and moans become frantic, and he drops his hand and lips from you, burying his face in your thigh as Namjoon pushes him to the edge.

Despite exhaustion weighing down on your limbs, you manage to get your panties off one leg at a time and scoot down the couch a little, giggling as Yoongi attempts to settle his head against you each time you move. You manage to get all the way under Yoongi and prop yourself on your elbow while he moans against your collarbone.

"Are you gonna cum, baby?" you ask sweetly, glancing from Yoongi to Namjoon, who towers over him with one hand squeezing his ass and the other fingering him.

"Uh-huh," Yoongi whimpers, making you grin. His dark hair is wild, stuck to his forehead from sweat, and a pretty red blush tints his cheeks and nose.

You reach down between your bodies and gently grab the tip of Yoongi's leaking cock, and he jerks against you, muttering, "F-fuck."

"Beg me to let you cum," Namjoon instructs.

"Please, daddy," Yoongi whines desperately. "Please!"

Yoongi begging and sobbing while calling Namjoon daddy is sexy on a level you were not prepared for, and you give the tip of his dick another little squeeze. The shiver that quakes through Yoongi spurs you on to tease him more, and he begins to beg again, whimpering, "Please, please, please," like a prayer.

You think back to when Yoongi had you begging for his cock the first time the two of you finally had sex, and how he towered over you, making you desperate with desire. Though the positions are much the same, the dynamic shift is absolutely breathtaking. You also think about Namjoon the night before, needy pleas to finally get to fuck you, so big and strong, yet pliant in your hands.

"Beg louder," you command, and Yoongi looks up at you with tears in his eyes, ready to burst.

"Please," Yoongi’s deep vice cracks as he sobs. "Please let me cum. Please!"

A loud, strangled sound falls from Yoongi's lips as Namjoon gathers a handful of Yoongi's hair and tugs, bowing his neck. Yoongi's eyes close, mouth hanging agape, and he looks absolutely sinful.

"Cum," Namjoon commands, and you tug on Yoongi's cock, rolling the head in your hand to gather his precum.

Yoongi's back arches, and he moans and trembles as he reaches his high. You continue to stroke his length, which pulsates in your hold as thick, warm spurts of cum hit your thigh and hip. The words Yoongi mutters are nonsense—a language lost to time, for all you know. When Yoongi cries out again, it is to beg for mercy—overstimulated and shaking like a leaf in the wind.

"T-too much," Yoongi whines, but Namjoon does not stop, though his arm does slow.

"Need to stretch you more so I can fuck you," Namjoon says, and Yoongi whimpers as he collapses against you with his ass in the air.

You attempt to run your fingers through Yoongi's tousled hair and coo that he is a good boy, the most perfect boy, so good for you and Namjoon. Yoongi's eyes are glazed over and far away, though as he adjusts to Namjoon stretching him, he seems to regain some of his energy.

The cap of a bottle clicks, and Namjoon squirts lube, you assume directly onto Yoongi's skin because he winces and hisses. You have no idea when Namjoon came into possession of lube, but now really is not the time to investigate. Yoongi's eyes open wider than you have ever seen, and he gasps out soundless moans.

"T-too big," Yoongi mutters, sending a chill of excitement through you. You have yet to see Namjoon's cock, but you imagine it is quite impressive, based on what you felt the other night.

"You are too fucking tight," Namjoon grumbles.

"When's the last time you two fucked?" you ask with a curious smirk, and Namjoon grins as he says, "A week or so before you moved in."

"Awe," you mock whine, jutting your lip into a pout. "It's been so long, our baby can't handle that big, thick cock anymore."

Namjoon's eyes widen as he stares down at you, piercing you with a hungry gaze. Meanwhile, all Yoongi can do is tremble and sob through the stretch.

After several moments of heavy breathing, Yoongi nods his head and mutters that he is ready. You wonder what your role will be in this—satisfied with being an audience to Yoongi getting fucked by Namjoon until it is your turn.

But then Yoongi grabs your hip with one hand and rasps, "Get down here, darling."

You comply and scoot further down the couch, which is already stained with sweat, drool, and probably cum. Yoongi wastes no time getting into position between your legs and pressing his cock in deep. The stretch stings and you squeeze your eyes shut, muttering a sharp, "Fuck," beneath your breath as you angle your hips upward.

Yoongi thrusts deep, then pulls back and stutters as he lets out a low moan. Namjoon holds onto Yoongi's hips, sitting high on his knees behind him, and it dawns on you what is happening. With each thrust, Yoongi fucks himself back onto Namjoon's dick.

Again, Yoongi thrusts, trembling with each movement until he is able to set a steady pace, gripping onto your spread thighs and fucking you into the newly broken-in couch. Pleasure overwhelms you as you watch Yoongi fuck you and Namjoon in tandem, and you moan loudly, doing your best to keep your eyes open and on the scene in front of you.

Namjoon's hands wander, groping and squeezing Yoongi's tummy and chest before wrapping around his throat and gripping tightly to his hair. Squelching and a euphony of moans and grunts fills the room.

"N-not gonna last," Yoongi whines as light red fingerprints bloom all over his skin.

Namjoon leans forward to look over Yoongi's shoulder and into your eyes.

"Touch yourself," he commands. "I want you to cum one more time."

You comply and take your fingers into your mouth to cover with spit, then move them down to your pussy, gently rubbing your fingertips over your oversensitive clit, spinning slick fingers over yourself in slow circles. The feeling is electric, and you speed up until it edges on being too intense.

Yoongi's hips quicken unevenly, and he begins to lose his composure entirely, but he remains steady enough to push you to the edge, allowing his fucked out expression and moans of pleasure to guide you.

"That's it," you moan encouragingly, "I'm gonna cum, baby. Don't stop."

Somehow, Yoongi manages to fuck you harder, and your orgasm erupts inside you like a million stars twinkling and scattering, turning you into the heavens, themselves.

Your orgasm sets off a reaction as Yoongi falls against you, as if unable to continue. Namjoon wastes no time grabbing onto Yoongi's hips and fucking him hard and fast, pressing his body into you to become a warm, weighted mess of sweat and drool and skin and satin.

Yoongi sobs as he cums, filling you with his warm release while Namjoon's thrusts force him to continue to fuck you. It feels unlike anything you have felt before—crushing and overwhelming and incredible.

Finally, Namjoon's hips still before they sputter, and he cums, moaning deep, pretty sounds as his fingers grip Yoongi's hips so hard you wonder if his skin will bruise some more. Yoongi lays fully against you, and you wrap your arms around his sweating, shaking body as Namjoon slowly pulls out and sits back against the couch.

"Wow," is all you can bring yourself to say, floored by what had just transpired and eager to do it again.

Namjoon is the first to move, making his way through the room, to the ensuite, giving you an eyeful of his perfect, toned ass and thighs. A moment later, he returns with a towel around his hips.

"Can you walk, sweetheart?" he asks, and you nod, certain that you can.

Namjoon gathers Yoongi, who grumbles in protest and makes a weak attempt to stay clung to your body.

"Let's clean off and get to bed," Namjoon offers, and Yoongi concedes, allowing Namjoon to scoop him up and carry him to the shower in the same way that the two of them carried you earlier.

And despite your best effort, and all the voices and alarms in your head telling you not to be endeared, not to allow yourself to fall for these adorable, dangerous men, you cannot deny the way your heart beats for them as butterflies swarm in your tummy.

Love is dangerous, and will surely be your downfall, but after each taste of their sweetness, and the new heights of pleasure that you experience with them, you are not sure how much longer you can prevent your collapse into madness.

But maybe if you follow me I’ll give you my truth But maybe if you follow me You’ll just see right though But maybe if you catch me I’ll be waiting for you No need to be afraid Yes I’ll be right there for you, yeah

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friends, lovers, haters. my babies. i have missed you, so. i apologize for the long wait between chapters. life is so hectic. this chapter is the longest yet, in part because i an unhinged and unstoppable, but also because wanted to gift you a giant mess before going quiet once more. we're crawling into the weeks leading to final exam territory, i'm afraid. and i have a bunch of other deadlines coming up.

how do you feel about this chapter? and the characters? the next arc is coming up and it's going to be a real doozy!!! as always, please don’t be a silent reader! feedback & reblogs do so much to help content creators!

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#yoongi x reader #yoongi mafia #yoongi smut #namjoon x reader #namjoon mafia #namjoon smut #namgi #namgi smut #bts mafia #bts smut #bts angst #bts poly #fic: collateral

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