#suga fic

[missywritesfor7]

❤️‍🩹Lifeline | MYG❤️‍🩹

Synopsis: It’s long been controversial for idols to date, but idols dating each other can be really beautiful or a complete nightmare. When Yoongi's relationship with another idol is discovered, he decides maybe it’s time to break the taboo and show people it’s ok for idols to date. Instead, they find themselves caught in the midst of one media frenzy after another and struggle to keep their relationship as strong as it had been the past 2 years. Yoongi finds a self destructive way to cope, and it causes even more problems than it solves. As they fight for their relationship and their careers, they discover that sometimes, the only way to truly be free is to let go.

Pairing: idol!Yoongi x idol!OC

Warnings: nsfw, alcoholism, cheating, depression, anxiety, Yoongi goes through a bisexy ho phase, Yoongi is also in his alcoholic phase, post-military BTS

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Ch. 17: Emotions

Treatment isn’t easy for Yoongi. Dealing with the effects of withdrawal is one thing, but having to face his feelings head on is the hardest. He’s felt like quitting a number of times, but every evening he gets a message from Hyeri that reminds him why he’s doing this.

Hyeri had tried to limit her communication with Yoongi while he’s in treatment. She thought it was nice that they allowed him to keep his phone, but she had done a bit of online research and came to the conclusion that talking to him too much could do more harm than good. She keeps her messages down to a summary text at the end of each day. She does her best to only send positive messages. Nothing about her now daily conflicts with JJS, or how she’s been searching for a way out because they continue to treat her like she’s a troublesome burden. That stress she’s been carrying on her own.

For Yoongi, he only knows what Hyeri tells him. So in his mind she’s doing perfectly fine. She’s working hard and simply waiting for her next role. He’s happy that she’s doing well and it helps him relax more knowing he doesn’t have to worry about her.

Although he’s still allowed internet access he hasn’t spent much time looking at social media. He did once and he came across the ever vicious rumor mill spreading lies about Jimin owing a gambling debt to someone. It was so ridiculous that all he could do was laugh, but when he had his session with Minho the laugh turned to a cry.

Up until then he mostly spoke about Hyeri and himself in his sessions. That day he had to explore his feelings towards his members and that hurt him more. It was never a question whether he loves them, but he didn’t realize how much of their pain he put on himself. The rumors about Jimin were laughable, but Yoongi took it personal. He felt bad for Jimin being dragged through the mud for no reason and he felt helpless to do anything to protect him. Someone as sweet and selfless as Jimin doesn’t deserve that. None of the members do. After that, Minho suggested Yoongi stay away from socials and so he did.

Until today. While having lunch he found himself going down a rabbit hole that simply started with him trying to figure out the type of wood that was used in the construction of the cabin he’s staying in. After reading the history of log cabins around the world and the best wood for different climates, he saw a random Naver article at the bottom of the page he was on that caught his attention.

Rainbow heard arguing with manager, acting career over?

Laugh. He’s supposed to laugh these things off. He’s telling himself to laugh. He’s not laughing. He’s watching a video taken of Hyeri and he’s not laughing at all.

He knew not to click the article. He knew not to play the video someone candidly took from their cell phone. He knew better but did it anyway. The video shows Hyeri yelling at her manager in a rage. He hadn’t seen her like that with anyone other than him. The soft spoken Na Hyeri was unloading on her manager about the jobs she’s not being offered and how they keep lying to her about it. She mentions being forced to accept tiny roles for no money because they’re punishing her for telling the truth.

Last night, Hyeri had a shoot for what she was told was a commercial for a new perfume. What it turned out to be was a small budget shoot for an amateur made air freshener spray. When she learned that the shoot was unpaid, which they also lied about at first, she unleashed her rage towards her manager.

Hyeri thought they were alone. She asked to speak to her manager out back. She had no idea someone was standing by recording for some reason. Almost as soon as it happened, the video was everywhere. She’s horrified by the invasion of privacy and even more horrified that she once again finds herself the center of controversy.

As if that wasn’t bad enough, she gets a message from Yoongi today asking her what’s going on and if she’s ok. Last night when she got home after the entire fiasco, she sent Yoongi her usual text telling him she had a small shoot and that was it. Now it seems he’s seen the news and she knows he’s not too happy about her not telling him about how bad things have gotten between her and JJS.

She admits that things have been rocky, but she didn’t feel it was anything she needed to worry him about. Of course now that he knows, it’s got him more worried than if she had told him from the start. Once more her silence has caused the exact thing she wanted to avoid.

Unconvinced that she’s ok, Yoongi decides to call Hyeri. Until now they’ve only texted each other. They both agreed that it would be best that way until he’s made it through the rough beginnings of his sobriety. Today he doesn’t care about that though. He needs to hear her voice to be sure she’s ok.

“You’re breaking the rules, Yoon-gya,” Hyeri chuckles when she answers.

“I think I deserve a pass this once,” he responds relieved to hear her voice and to hear that she doesn’t seem to be in any distress.

“You didn’t believe me when I said I was ok?” She jokes.

“You tend to lie about that a lot,” he chuckles.

“Look who’s talking,” she laughs softly.

It feels like nothing has changed but at the same time it feels the way it felt when their relationship was fresh and new. They talk about anything and giggle at how cute each other sounds for about an hour before Yoongi finally asks what he initially called her for.

“So are you going to tell me about the video?” He asks.

“I hate people always invading my privacy,” she huffs.

“What’s this about the roles you’ve been getting? I thought you were working on some commercials?”

“I was. It’s just that they’re small commercials. The small kind that don’t pay,” she admits with shame.

“Hyeri…”

“I know, but I tried to stand up for myself,” she says hoping for praise. “I finally told them how the way they’re treating me is bullshit. I found roles that I wanted to go for and they got upset about it.”

“I’m proud of you,” he says. He knows opposing anyone is hard for her. For her to stand up to JJS after she had been so complacent before is a big step. “You don’t even sound like you’ve been crying,” he jokes.

“I’m not the same Hyeri I used to be,” she chuckles. “But….” She trails off not finishing her sentence.

“But?”

“I’m still a little…scared I guess.” She didn’t want to admit to that. She doesn’t want him worried about her, but they had been having such a good talk that she was about to release her troubles to him out of habit. He’s her best friend and she had been holding her fears in since she couldn’t tell him. Now it’s out there and she knows he’ll try to pry every feeling out of her in an attempt to understand, comfort, and fix every issue.

“Scared of what?” He asks.

“Everything. Losing everything. JJS isn’t going to treat me right so I need to leave them, but then where can I go?”

“Have you been looking around?”

“Yeah, but what if I’m rejected by everyone? What if this is it for my acting career? I could go back to music but you know acting is my passion.”

“Baby, I’ve told you I can get you in contact with people. Anything you need. You don’t have to try to do this on your own.”

“But I can’t have you help me,” she sighs. “Not right now at least. You need to focus on you.”

“I’m doing fine. Let me know what company you want to go for and I can find a contact and get you in touch.”

“Yoongi stop.” This is exactly what she knew he would do and exactly why she didn’t want to say anything. “I mean it. I’m scared but I’m not completely helpless. Please focus on your recovery and don’t worry so much about me.”

“I know,” he groans. “It’s just hard when I’m away.”

“What’s going to convince you that I’m fine?”

“I don’t know,” he huffs. “If I could see you or…hold you…”

“I just need you to trust me. If I’m not ok I’ll let you know.”

“Will you?”

“Of course. I promise. I just need you to trust me. Trust me and keep taking care of yourself. Can you promise me that?” She pleas.

“Yeah,” he agrees. “I promise I’ll take care of myself. I promise I’ll be better so I can see you sooner. I miss you.”

“I miss you too. Don’t worry about me.”

“Can you at least promise me you won’t keep things from me anymore? I know you don’t want to worry me but I think I worry more when you don’t tell me what’s going on. Whether it’s good or bad, I just want to be able to support you.”

“I know. I promise, babe.”

“I love you so much, Bow.” She can’t tell but he’s suddenly holding back tears. Talking to her, hearing her voice is so calming to him. He misses her so much and though he knows this is for a better future, it still hurts to be separated from her.

“I love you too, Yoon-gya.”

Hyeri misses him just as much. Dealing with the stress JJS has had her under has been exceptionally difficult without Yoongi being there to comfort her when she feels overwhelmed. All she can do is ask herself what Yoongi would do. Every time she does she ends up in trouble or the talk of the town for a while. It’s not all bad though. She’s been walked over her whole life because she never felt like she had a voice and was afraid to speak up. Now she does and she feels good setting boundaries and fighting for herself. She fears for the future, but she at least knows she won’t let anyone walk all over her again.

Yoongi got an extra boost of motivation after talking to Hyeri. He was determined more than ever to return to her soon and healthy. He still worries about her, but hearing her voice and how she didn’t sound sad at all helped him feel better.

Minho has been helping a lot as well. Yoongi still has a long way to go, but Minho could always find a way to make Yoongi feel safe when he’s vulnerable. Each session he opens up more and he feels much lighter being able to talk about things he had been holding on to for a while.

His next session after talking to Hyeri, Yoongi is much more enthusiastic and bright. He tells Minho about their conversation and how he’s happy to be getting the help he needs so he can be the best for her, his members, and his fans. But especially Hyeri.

Only a week has passed since hearing Hyeri’s voice, but Yoongi feels like he’s made a lot of progress recently. He even sent a message in the group chat with the rest of the guys to tell them how he’s doing. He was optimistic and it was refreshing for the rest of the guys. They praised him for doing well and expressed how they can’t wait to see him again.

He’s in the middle of making himself dinner. Nothing special, just a simple pasta dish with a bit of steak. He found passion for cooking again and had been taking the time to cook each one of his meals. That’s just how motivated Hyeri made him.

He’s got his steak cooking in the pan and his pasta already in a bowl. Everything smells good and he feels great. To make things even better he gets a call from Hyeri. He hasn’t heard her voice since last week and he’s been dying to hear her again.

“Hey, babe,” he says when he answers.

“Hey,” she responds. “I wanted to call you because it would be easier than texting. I did it!” She shouts in excitement.

“Did what?” He asks confused but equally enthusiastic.

“I told JJS to go fuck themselves!” She giggles.

“You what?” He asks freezing in place.

“I’m done with them. I want to go for the lead in a super duper huge new series. It’s…maybe a bit ambitious,” she says shyly. “But I could at least audition but they tried to give me more bullshit about taking a break and being compliant so I told them to shove their compliance up their ass.”

“Wow,” he says in disbelief. She’s typically not the one to do such a thing, and certainly not when she hasn’t found another agency yet. “You really did that?”

“Yeah! I’m sick of them treating me like shit. I should’ve listened to you in the beginning and left them a long time ago.” She pauses and takes a deep breath. “I don’t know what happens next, but I’m happy. They won’t stress me out any longer.”

“Baby, that’s incredible! I wish I could take you out to celebrate.”

“We’ll have plenty of time for that later,” she giggles. “I’m just happy to be free.”

“I’m happy too.” He pauses and thinks a moment before speaking again. “Are you at home?”

“Yeah,” she responds. “Of course I am, why?”

“I want to see you.”

“How? I mean you can’t.”

“Sure I can. I want to see you so let’s video call,” he suggests.

“What? I mean no, I think it’s too soon. We already broke the rule about not talking on the phone.”

“Just once,” he pleads. “Plus I want to show you the dinner I made.”

“I don’t know,” she hesitates.

“I’m switching to video,” he says not giving her a choice. He switches to video and waits for her to do the same. “Please,” he pleads again. “Just for a minute, baby.”

She gives in and turns the video on after rushing to try fixing herself up a bit. Her camera turns on and Yoongi can instantly see why she was reluctant to video chat.

“You’ve been crying?” He asks noticing how her eyes are just a slight bit puffy. Her attempt to hide under the shadows of the low lighting in the bedroom wasn’t enough to fool him.

“No,” she lies.

“Hyeri!” He fusses.

“I mean I’m a little scared, I told you that.”

“But you’ve been crying.”

He wants to protect her. He wants to hold her and make sure she never cries alone. He would fix all of her problems and wipe every tear. She knew he would feel this way and that’s why she didn’t want him to know she had been crying. His priority is her now and she doesn’t want it to be.

“Just a little,” she admits. “It’s a big step and the future is unknown, but I’m ok. I’ve got a few agencies that I’m looking into. Don’t worry about me, Yoon-gya, I’ve got this. I told you, I’m not the same Hyeri I was before.”

“You’re sure you’re ok?” He asks still not convinced.

“You’ll never believe me, will you?” She chuckles.

“No,” he smiles.

“What about you though? How are you doing?”

“I feel better each day. I feel better hearing your voice and seeing your face.”

“Therapy is good?”

“Yeah,” he boasts. “It’s going great.”

That’s the truth, Yoongi has been getting better each day. He makes progress in many different ways. However, every time he thinks he’s made progress in one area, something in an old but forgotten area pops up.

Hyeri has been happy with her choice. She isn’t getting work, but that’s all going to change once she signs with a new agency. Though that had been in limbo for a little while.

JJS decided they would sue Hyeri for breaking her contract. They want her to pay damages for not holding up her end, claiming she’s cost them lots of money. She’s terrified since she’s never been sued before, but she couldn’t stand by without countersuing for her own reasons. The lies and especially the unpaid roles they had her doing without telling her from the start that they would be unpaid.

Yoongi got Hyeri in contact with an attorney he knows and trusts. Hyeri was happy, because without company resources she didn’t know how she’d get an attorney. It’s all a mess, but they both feel optimistic. There’s plenty of proof that JJS were in the wrong so she hopes it will be an easy case.

Just because it seems like it’s an easy case, doesn’t mean it will be a quick one. While the case is ongoing, Hyeri managed to land a deal with a new agency about two weeks after telling JJS to shove it. She’s ecstatic and eager to get working again.

Yoongi feels good that she’s found a new company. He’s happy that she seems in good spirits despite how long her case is taking in court. He’s happy that she’s happy. He’s happy.

He’s outside laying on top of the picnic table staring into the sky. His jaw is tightly clinched and his ears are welled with tears that have rolled down the side of his face. He wants a drink so bad right now.

He was fine at first. He started his day with some fruit and iced coffee. He played on his keyboard that he had brought in so he could work on music. Then he went walking outside a little. During his walk his mind started wandering as it typically does. But for some reason his mind was on Hyeri. Not that that’s unusual, but the thoughts went from typical longing to pure anxiety.

He knows Hyeri is trying to stay strong, but he knows her too well to believe that she’s doing as ok as she says she is. He’s worried about her. Worried that she’s going to bed sad and alone every night. Worried that he’s been away too long. Worried that something else may happen to her and he won’t be there for her. He still has the image of her car accident in his mind and he still hasn’t fully forgiven himself. As a matter of fact, he hasn’t forgiven himself for anything.

When he talks to Minho it’s always productive. He’s forgiven Hyeri for the way she handled things with the dating rumors both times. He thought he forgave her before but realized he hadn’t. Thanks to Minho’s help, Yoongi has been able to move past that. He’s talked about other things since, but hadn’t quite realized that deep down he still hates himself.

He’s staring at the sky through his tears wishing he could just have one drink. Something small to take the edge off. He thought there had to be something in that house or even something the doctor may have left behind in the second cabin after he left. Nothing. Yoongi searched and searched and found nothing. Now he’s sad and irritated.

“Is that comfortable?” Minho asks approaching the table. He’s arrived for today’s session but didn’t expect to find Yoongi crying on the table.

Yoongi doesn’t move, he only sighs in more frustration because he didn’t realize what time it was. He didn’t realize he’d been on the table crying for 3 hours.

“What’s going on?” Minho asks softly.

Yoongi shakes his head. He doesn’t want to talk. If he opens his mouth he won’t be able to speak through the sobs.

“Did something happen?”

Yoongi shakes his head again.

“Can you tell me what you’re feeling right now?”

Yoongi opens his mouth but no sound comes out. He doesn’t know how to describe what he’s feeling, he just knows he wants a drink.

“I-I…” Yoongi stutters. He takes a deep breath and closes his eyes. “I can’t do this.”

“Why?” Minho asks.

“I let her down too much. I can’t go back home to her.”

“I thought you wanted to do this so you could be what you feel she deserves.”

“I do, I just…I’m going to find a way to fuck it up again. She doesn’t deserve that. She deserves someone that will be by her side and take care of her. Not someone who will drink himself stupid and cheat on her.”

“Has she told you these things?”

“Come on,” Yoongi scoffs. “She’s not going to actually say something like that. She’d be too afraid to. Even if she hated me she wouldn’t hurt my feelings. I know that much, and that’s why she deserves better.”

“Are you wanting to end your relationship with her?” Minho asks placing a hand on Yoongi’s arm.

“No…I mean no…she…” Yoongi sputters.

“You think she deserves better, and you think you wouldn’t be it for her. That sounds like you want to at least end your romantic relationship with her, right?”

Yoongi lets out a pained wail and begins sobbing heavily. His chest is burning and it’s excruciating.

He just wants a damn drink.

#bts #bts au #bts fanfic #bts fic #cross posted on ao3 #bts smut #angst #tw depression #bts fluff #tw alcoholism #bts angst #Yoongi #min yoongi #Suga #yoongi x oc #Suga x oc #yoongi au #suga au #yoongi angst #suga angst #yoongi fluff #suga fluff #yoongi fanfic #suga fanfic #yoongi smut #suga smut #yoongi fic #suga fic #established relationship #idol au

[casuallyimagining]

Set Me Free || myg

min yoongi x female reader

Summary: Tired of being told how to live his life and unsure of where he stands in the world, Yoongi--your soulmate--yearns to be free. When you give him what he wants, it causes a rift in your relationship that seems irreparable. 12 years later, you find him back in your life. Can you mend your relationship? Do you even want to? Word Count: 14,377 Genre: friends to enemies to lovers, supernatural au, witch & familiar au, soulmate au, angst, fluff Warnings: death of a parent (brief mention), alcohol, soulmate breakup, smooching

Notes: banner by @itaeewon. thank you to @daechwitatamic and @oddinary4bts for beta-ing and listening to me struggle my way through this. as always. and extra thanks to ella for helping me write Yoongi's letters and to my friend tanya for giving me a super helpful base for the ending.

It’s cold. The late autumn wind rustles through amber-brown-orange-yellow leaves, swirling the fallen ones into little tornadoes that scuttle across the pavement. The cold doesn’t bother Yoongi, necessarily. It’s been a while since he’s been here, in this town, on this street, but even after so much time, his body remembers the chill of November in the same way his feet remember the way to his destination. He shoves his hands deep into his pockets and pauses at the street corner.

It’s strange being back here. He’d once known this neighborhood so intimately, he could map it in his sleep. Not much has changed in the almost 13 years he’s been gone. The park on the corner is the same. The playground, massive to an eight-year-old with a near-infinite imagination, stands resolute, its plastic and paint sun-faded and weathered. Further up the block is the head of the trail that snakes its way through the forest, where he’d spent countless hours playing pirates as a kid and exploring as a teen. And there, at the end of the street, is his destination.

The closer he gets, the more his stomach roils with nerves. Thirteen years since he’d walked down this sidewalk. Thirteen years since he’d walked onto that front porch. Or rather, 12 years, 5 months, and 11 days. 

But who’s counting?

There’s a light on in the front room of the house, he can see it through the big window despite the shades being pulled closed. He hesitates. He’s spent days–no, weeks–playing out in his head how this was going to go. In a moment, he’ll know if any of those scenarios were correct. And frankly, right now, he’s terrified. 

What if you start to cry? What if you slam the door in his face? What if you hug him? What if you yell at him? What if you don’t answer? What if you want to talk? What if you never want to see him again? What if you invite him in? What if you have someone over?

He takes a deep breath and knocks.

It takes a second. He can hear shuffling around on the other side of the door, so he knows his knock was heard. But the longer it takes, the sweatier his hands get, and the more he considers turning and running away. The door opens before he can make a move.

You stand in the doorway, bathed in the warm light of the living room lamp behind you. And shit, Yoongi doesn’t know what to say. In many ways, you haven’t changed since the last time he saw you, but at the same time, you look so different. He can see in your eyes the moment the realization hits, and your expression changes drastically. You looked tired–and Yoongi can sense that it goes deeper than just physical exhaustion–and you were slouching, but now, you’re standing ramrod straight, and there’s a hard look in your eyes. One he knows all too well.

“Hey.” He raises a hand, offers a wave that, in hindsight, is rather pathetic. You stare at him, unblinking, and slowly, he lowers his hand. “I uh… I heard about your parents,” he says softly, scuffing his shoe against the wood of the porch. “I’m sorry you have to go through it.”

“Brave of you to show up.” You sound almost bored, but Yoongi knows–he senses, in that kind of primal, gut feeling he gets when it comes to you–that it’s an act. “You know I could turn you into a bug and squash you if I wanted to.”

“I know.”

There’s a tense moment where you stare at each other, the scowl you wear pulling your lips downward and creasing your brow. But then you heave an exhausted sigh.

“Why are you here, Yoongi?”

“I…” 

I want to apologize. 

I’m so sorry.

I miss you.

It all catches in his throat. He coughs in a meager attempt to entice something–anything–to come out of his mouth. “I wanted you to have this.”

He holds out his hands, and in an instant, he’s holding a box. It’s full but not heavy, and he thrusts it out in front of him in your direction.

“A 10-year-old shoebox?” You do nothing to mask your surprise. 

“Letters,” he corrects. “You don’t have to read them but… I wanted you to have them.” He pushes the box into your arms, leaving you no choice but to take it. Then, he steps away and nods his head. “Thank you for not turning me into a bug. I am sorry about your parents. I… guess I’ll go.”

Without another word, he trots down the porch steps. And then, in a blink, he’s gone. Disappeared into the night.

You sigh and shut the door, the box he’d given you cradled in the crook of your arm. You don’t have the energy for this right now. Honestly, you aren’t sure that you’ll ever have the energy for it, but certainly not the day before your parents’ funeral.

Whoever had decided that witches and their familiars die together clearly never thought of the ones left behind.

You collapse onto the couch, placing the box beside you. This would be easier if you weren’t alone. It would be easier with Yoongi, your brain supplies less than helpfully. You curse yourself. You curse him. After all these years, you thought you were over it, over the abandonment, over the betrayal. But all it takes is for him to show his stupid face, and you can feel it all bubbling up anew. Angrily, you push the box off the couch. It explodes when it hits the floor, what seems like thousands of pieces of paper tumble out and scatter from the force.

The forest was almost silent as you stalked the trail. Not even the birds were happy that day. Twigs snapped under your feet. You weren’t even paying attention to where you were going, your feet carrying you along the path that you’d hiked countless times before. You needed to get away, to escape, to calm down. But you couldn’t, because what you were running away from was hot on your heels.

“Would you slow down?” You could hear the frustration in Yoongi’s voice as he followed you. You ignored him. “Goddamnit,” he breathed, picking up his pace. “Will you at least listen to me?”

Quite frankly, you didn’t care what he had to say in that moment.

“It wouldn’t be a permanent thing,” he continued. “I just… I don’t know. I need to do this.”

You stopped, sliding a little on the damp new growth below your feet. “What the fuck are you talking about? You’re not being oppressed, Yoongi. No one’s stopping you from going out and exploring the world.”

“Maybe this way of life isn’t for everyone. Maybe not everyone wants their whole existence to be predetermined at birth. Maybe not everyone wants the universe to choose who they’re supposed to be with and how they’re supposed to live.”

His words stung, and until then, you weren’t quite sure why. Rejection. Not just of how you lived, and who he was, and how things had always been. But of you. Yoongi was your familiar, you were destined to be together in some way since you were six years old and the bond gem first appeared. Not all witches and familiars were in romantic relationships–your parents were, sure, and Yoongi’s parents–but plenty of them had other partners, lives separate from each other. Platonic soulmates navigating the world together.

Until a few months before, you’d been content with that. There was no doubt you’d been best friends from the jump. You’d been practically inseparable through school. Then, months before, he’d kissed you at the winter market. Right there in the park, under the aurora. Before that, you hadn’t thought of him as any more than your best friend. But the kiss had unlocked something inside you. And now…

Now he wanted you gone. 

“You want to be free that badly?” By some miracle, your voice sounded positively venomous, even though you felt like you could crumble at any moment. “Fine.”

“Wh-”

There’s a saying your mother told you once, back when you were a child. You and Yoongi had found a turtle in the woods, stuck in the mud. His little turtle leg had been hurt, and you’d rushed it to your mother immediately. Familiars were excellent with animals, and she was no exception, healing the turtle in days when it should have taken weeks. You and Yoongi had both cried when you had to release it back into the wild–you’d both so wanted it to be your friend. ‘If you love something, set it free,’ your mother had said, ‘Sometimes it’s the kindest option.’

Kinder for whom?

The chain around your wrist snapped easily when you wrapped your fingers around it. The incantation meant to keep the bond gem safe became meaningless as soon as you wanted it gone. You couldn’t remember the last time you’d been without it around your wrist. You loved it, with its gem of swirling, inky black and navy blue. It reminded you so much of Yoongi, deep and calm and unwavering. 

Without a word, you tossed the bracelet to the ground. Yoongi’s eyes widened as it hit and the gem cracked. For good measure, you stepped on it, crushed it into dust. There was a pitiful swirl of blue magic that puffed up from the dirt. When you moved your foot, there was nothing left of the bond gem or its chain.

“What the fuck?” Yoongi’s eyes were glassy when you finally looked at him. He looked almost as crushed as you felt. “What the fuck?”

“You’re free.” And this time, you couldn’t hide your sadness behind your anger. 

He didn’t follow you as you walked away, and honestly, it was for the best. It was faint, but you could still feel his emotions, and you weren’t sure you could handle that kind of heartache in person.

There is paper everywhere. Hundreds of pieces, folded neatly in thirds. You have no idea how Yoongi had fit them all into the shoebox. He must’ve enchanted it. Groaning, you start to pick them up. 

Letters, he’d said. You flip through some as you gather them up. Now that they’re on the floor, they aren’t in any particular order, but it quickly becomes clear that these letters span years. There are some from 12 years ago, written shortly after he’d left. Some are more recent. You stare at one, from December of the year he left. Glancing through it, you expect it to unearth your anger, your rage. But it doesn’t. Just like seeing him again, all Yoongi’s letter brings is sadness. Grief.

You’d spent the past 12 years grieving. Sure, he hadn’t died, but when he left, you’d lost the closest relationship you would ever have. In 17 years, you’d grown so accustomed to having him there, that when he was gone, there was a Yoongi-sized hole left in your life that you had to learn to fill. And you did your best, sewing yourself back together and moving on. But it wasn’t the same.

Glancing through his letter, it seems you weren’t the only one struggling. You aren’t sure if that’s a comfort or not.

It’s been almost a year since the night market–one year since everything started crumbling around us. I still remember it like it was yesterday. It felt right in the moment, didn’t it? I really thought you would understand.

I’ve tried to figure out where things went wrong. But shit, I can’t wrap my head around it. Why did you react like that when I told you I just wanted to be free?

At the end of the day, I guess we didn’t understand each other as much as I thought we did. As much as this bond brings us together, I guess it doesn’t reveal everything. But… that night I just wanted to kiss you, and so I did. Maybe it was selfish. Sometimes I wish the bond didn’t exist, that we could just be free to choose things for ourselves. That we weren't forced into what the universe wants from us… Maybe that’s selfish, too.

Why couldn’t you understand? I just wish I could turn back time and make you understand. Maybe then you wouldn’t hate me, and maybe then I’d stop hating myself too.

Because watching you destroy the gem nearly killed me, but it wasn’t half as bad as watching you walk away. Should I have run after you? 

Would you still be there if I had?

You sigh and lean back against your couch. That damn night market. You hadn’t been back to it since the year he’d kissed you. It’s silly, but a part of you blames it for everything that happened. Because Yoongi’s letter is right. It had marked the beginning of everything going wrong. It wouldn’t change anything, but there’s a part of you that won’t listen to logic, that refuses to believe that maybe, if he hadn’t kissed you–if you hadn’t kissed him back–he wouldn’t have left. 

The night market was beautiful. It always was, but that year was particularly beautiful. The park had been decorated in all of its sparkling, winter glory. Candles twinkled in the trees, suspended by sheer force of will. Through some magic you weren’t familiar with, they’d enchanted the sky, and an aurora shimmered far above, slowly swirling in greens and blues and purples. Snow fell gently, and you weren’t sure if it was natural, or if it was also magic. 

You browsed the various tents and tables, going from one to the other to see the different things people were selling. Some had crafts, others baked goods, and some were even selling things like potion ingredients and spellbooks. There were a few tables dedicated to familiars–books on shifting and specialty items and insets and jewelry for bond gems.

Yoongi followed you closely, clutching a hot chocolate. You knew he wasn’t cold, the temperature was nowhere near low enough for either of you to be uncomfortable, but the way his fingers tapped against the paper cup, you knew something was up. You could sense his anxiety, could feel it in the pit of your own stomach.

“Want to go sit?” you asked softly, gesturing over to the picnic tables they’d set up under one of the sparkling trees. 

His eyes widened. “No, that’s okay. You’re looking.”

“I’m done. Let’s go sit.”

“I-” He deflated a little and didn’t argue further, allowing you to lead him over to one of the tables. 

You sat side by side on the bench, backs against the table, and watched the snow fall around you. The night was peaceful, quiet for the most part except for the occasional laughter that bubbled up. Most of the older crowd had left, leaving only the teens and young adults to explore the market. You watched the other festival goers in silence, Yoongi’s arm pressed against your own.

“You okay?” you asked softly, bumping your shoulder into his own.

Yoongi being quiet was nothing new. He was an observer, a listener, he took in information like a sponge. Which wasn’t to say that he was never loud and boisterous, that he didn’t talk incessantly to the people he cared about. But he was absolutely the calmest presence you’d ever been around, even compared to the adults in your life.

But you could sense what he was feeling, could feel his nerves and unease and conflict. And you knew that he’d rather explode than burden anyone with his feelings. So you prodded. Ever so gently. Because he was your best friend, and when he was suffering, you were too. 

He stayed quiet, and when you turned to look at him, he was much closer than you were expecting. A moment passed. You shared a look. You’d always thought that Yoongi’s eyes were pretty, but in the twinkling light of the candles above, they were deep pools of warm, dark cedar and flecks of honey. Slowly, subtly, he leaned in–or maybe you did, you weren’t sure– as though some mysterious force was drawing you together. An emotion flashed in his eyes, but you couldn’t quite take the time to consider what it may have been because he was kissing you. Lips chapped from the bitter wind moulded against your own for the shortest of moments. It was tentative and delicate and brief, but as he pulled away, your mind reeled. 

That day had affected you in ways you never would have expected. Before, you’d never considered Yoongi as anything more than your best friend, the platonic other half of yourself. And then the kiss, and suddenly, it was like you’d been awakened. For as long as you could remember, your thoughts had been filled with Yoongi. Of the things he liked, the things he didn’t, of spending time with him, of the academy (with him). Suddenly, you were suspecting that maybe there was more to that, more than just the bond of a witch and their familiar.

You sigh. The letters are all finally back in the box, though nowhere near as nicely as they’d been before you’d kicked it and it had exploded. You should get up. You should go to bed. You have to be up fairly early for the funeral. But you stay seated, the box of letters in your lap.

Seeing him again was hard. You’re willing to admit that. You’d spent 12 years convincing yourself that you were fine, harboring anger and resentment and frustration, all for it to melt away the second you saw him. The bond makes it tough to stay mad at him, but it doesn’t let you forget the betrayal.

You stand out of the way, looking out over the funeral attendees in the park. Your parents didn’t have a lot of friends, but there are enough people here that you’d officially call it a crowd. They’re all mingling–you’d bought beer and wine, and if you didn’t know any better, it could maybe be a party and not a wake. You tighten your fist around the bond gem in your hand. For as long as you could remember, your dad had worn it around his neck, tucked under his shirt. The gem is like your mother–bright pink, fiery orange, deep yellow–and when you were a child, you’d loved to look at it, mesmerized by the swirling, glittering colors. 

The gems have always been a gift from a familiar to their witch, given to symbolize the soulmate-like bonds between them. Most witches–especially those who were romantically involved with their familiars–wear them as jewelry. They don’t really do anything, though some people claim it made their magic stronger (you aren’t really sure about that, seeing as most gems appear in childhood).

As a child, you hadn’t been particularly close with your parents. Especially as a teen, you would have much rather hung out with Yoongi than them. But they were kind, and supportive, and for the most part, they left you to do your own thing. They’d been almost as devastated as you when you’d crushed your bond gem.

Days after your fight with Yoongi, the doorbell rang. Your mother had opened the door. You were upstairs. You’d stayed home from school that day–sick, but not in the way the administrators would have accepted. For a few brief moments, you’d ignored whatever visitor was downstairs. But then-

“She’s not here.” Your mother’s voice drifted up to you. She sounded disappointed.

“Please.” It was Yoongi, you’d recognize his baritone from miles away.

Quietly, you’d slipped out of your room and crept down the hall, sitting at the top of the stairs. You could hear your mother sigh, could see her shift her weight from one foot to the other. Your father appeared from the kitchen and joined your mother at the door.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea right now,” he said, shaking his head. He leaned against the doorknob, pulling it a little more shut in the process so it blocked you completely from the door’s sight.

A long moment of silence passed before your mother called, “Yoongi?” You couldn’t hear his response–he must have already gone down the porch steps. Your mother continued, “It can be scary, and you’re both still young. Give it time.”

The door shut quietly, and both of your parents looked to where you were sitting. You could see it in both of their eyes. Sadness, but something else. Something that looked a little close to pity.

A laugh draws your attention, and you smile sadly as you watch your mother’s coworkers laugh at some memory. But then you notice, just behind them, a shadow close to the ground and suddenly, you’re distracted all over again. Because there, half-hidden by a bush, sits a black cat. Cedar and honey eyes watch you intently, its dark fur swirling and shining like a thousand galaxies. Your hand tightens around your parents’ bond gem, the chain pressing sharply into the flesh of your hand.

He doesn’t move, just sits there patiently. Watching. He’s there as people approach you, offering condolences and hugs that you don’t particularly want; he’s there when people start trickling out. And he’s there when you’re the last one left, all alone under the large oak tree in the center of the park. 

It’s quiet as you stand there, staring down at the bond gem in your hands. This is the part you’ve been dreading. Because you don’t want to keep the damn thing–you could if you wanted to, but there’s also tradition to think about. But it’s also weird to give up the one thing that is so emblematic of your parents. You wonder if they’d felt like this when your grandparents had died. 

At least they’d had each other during it.

You can sense him approach, even though his steps are completely silent. And though he comes closer, he keeps his distance. On one hand, you appreciate it. On the other…

“If you’re going to be here, the least you could do is be here,” you say quietly, looking down at the gem in your hand. It sparkles a little in the light.

Thankfully, he doesn’t ask you to explain. He takes a few slow steps forward until he’s standing beside you. It’s weird, having him this close again. You’d been too overwhelmed last night to actually observe, but now, you’re exhausted, yet alert. 

His hair is longer–as a teen, he’d kept it short, but the ends curl and sit just above his shoulders now. He’s filled out and put on some muscle, and though he’s still a little on the lankier side, his shoulders have broadened. He wears cologne now, the scent light, like lavender, citrus, and sage. So much has changed, and yet it’s the same eyes that watch you with a soft curiosity.

You look up to the tree, watch its branches wave in the wind. You used to think that the centenarian boughs touched the sky, and even still, it towers above everything else in the park. The leaves sparkle, their iridescence catching the light to make the tree look like something out of a fairy tale. You sigh and tighten your fist around your parents’ bond gem one more time before opening your hand.

At first, nothing happens, but then the gem glistens and rises out of your grasp. It joins the other leaves close to the top of the tree, becoming just another sparkle in the prism. 

For a while, not even the birds make a noise. You just stand there, looking up at the tree that has stood sentinel over most of your life. The wind rustles the leaves, and they shimmer as they move. You have no idea how many leaves are up there, how many bond gems have been placed over time. Thousands–maybe hundreds of thousands–of witches and their familiars, most forgotten to the annals of time.

It’s strange, knowing that you would never be memorialized by the tree.

“Let me buy you a coffee,” Yoongi whispers from beside you, husky baritone cutting through the silence.

Yoongi isn’t sure why you say yes, but soon enough, you’re walking into the Green Bean just behind him. He’s uncomfortable, people have been watching you since the park, and their stares are starting to burn holes in his back. He says nothing about it until you’re in line at the cafe.

“What are they staring at?” he whispers, leaning close so that only you can hear in the semi-busy cafe. He chooses to ignore how you tense up ever so slightly.

“You’ve been gone for 12 years, what did you expect?”

Right. He supposes he should have expected their animosity. But it’s not just him they’re watching. He doesn’t miss the way people stare at you, watch you warily as you simply exist. His mind races. Was that his fault? Did his absence cause so many unintended consequences?

You order a coffee and choose a table in the far corner of the cafe, away from everyone but still near the window. He sits in the chair across from you, the hard metal shockingly comfortable despite its harsh lines. An awkward silence settles over you both, but Yoongi’s not sure what to say, so he lets it linger. He watches you stare out the window. Which is a little weird, right? But he can’t bring himself to drag his gaze away. It’s like after 12 years of being away, he just wants to look at you.

The barista calls out your orders and Yoongi stands to grab both of them from the counter. He places one oversized ceramic mug down in front of you, and the other, he wraps his hands around. It’s warm, almost hot, and he dares not take a drink yet. You stare down at the foam on top of your drink, one finger hooked around the handle of the cup.

“What happened to them?” he asks softly. When you look up, surprised, he clarifies. “Your parents, I mean. I… didn’t hear how they…”

You sigh, tap your mug. He can sense the deep sadness you struggle with and is just about to tell you to forget he asked when you speak. “I always kind of thought it would be dad who’d go first.” Your voice is barely above a whisper. “He was always so frail when we were kids. But mom got sick last year and…” You shrug. “One of the neighbors found them.”

“I’m so sorry.” You wave him off. “No. Honestly. They were nice.”

“Thanks.”

He nods, and silence settles again. But then something you said pops into his mind, striking him as strange. “You aren’t living here anymore?” Mentally, he slaps himself. Why did it come out like he’s surprised? He supposes that he’s always just kind of pictured you still… here, in town.

“I’m over in Ashland,” you say, generally gesturing west, toward the city. “I work at the library at the university.”

“Yeah?” He raises his eyebrows. “How’s that?”

You shrug. “Mostly good. It’s a job. The library’s usually pretty quiet, so…”

“That’s really cool.”

Ashland is big, much bigger than here in square feet and at least 10 times the people. It’s a real city, with skyscrapers and functioning public transportation and one of the country’s top medical universities. He’s proud of you, he realizes. You’d always planned to leave for the city, too constrained by life in such a small town. For the longest time, he’d planned on going with you. And then, of course, he’d ruined it. It stings a little to know that you’d gone without him like that, that your life had continued as planned, that maybe he hadn’t meant that much in the grand scheme of things.

But then your eyes meet, and he’s confronted by the anxiety and sadness you’re feeling, and he knows he’s just being stupid. Again.

“So, uh…” He feels a wave of nerves wash over him–they aren’t his own. You tap your half-empty mug. “What have you been up to?”

If he’s honest, Yoongi wasn’t expecting you to ask about him. He’s shocked enough that you’d even agreed to be here, let alone that you were interested in his life. “I was traveling,” he starts cautiously, gauging your reaction. You blink slowly, watching his every move. If you can sense his apprehension, you don’t react. “But now I’m up north in Ulmae. I’ve got a pretty good thing going at this restaurant on the North Shore.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, uh…” He chuckles, a little nervous. “They’ve got me bartending on the weekends and let me do music during the week.”

Your eyes widen a little, and you lean forward. “They let you play?”

“It’s only like an hour a night-”

“No, shut up. That’s amazing!” You grin, big and genuine, but Yoongi can sense a tinge of sadness in it. 

He’s disappointed when you both finish your coffees and you stand up to put your cup in the little tub by the counter. It’s starting to get late, the sun is starting to set and the streetlights have turned on. It was nice, catching up with you, short though it may have been. It’s not lost on him how strange it is, having to catch up with someone that was once practically a part of him. 

Together, you stand outside in the chilly early evening air, looking down the street toward the park. Over the roofs of the shops and houses, Yoongi can just barely see the centinel tree with its sparkling leaves. People walk past–people he recognizes but couldn’t possibly name–some are more subtle about it, but others practically break their necks to stare at the two of you. Suddenly, Yoongi feels exposed outside the cafe, like there are eyes everywhere. He hates this, hates feeling like he’s doing something wrong just for wanting to talk to you more.

You sigh, scuff your shoe against the concrete of the sidewalk, shove your hands deep into the pockets of your dark jeans. “I… probably shouldn’t even ask,” you start warily. “But do you want to come back for a drink?”

The house is the same, yet somehow also different, like one of those spot the difference puzzles come to life. The layout of the living room is the same, but the couch is a different style and color. There’s a blanket folded the same way under the coffee table, but it’s clearly a different pattern than he remembers. Most of the photos are the same, but there are 12 years’ worth of more of them. 

Apparently, the stash of alcohol your father kept in the built in cabinet beside the television hasn’t changed.

You pull out a bottle of whisky and two glasses, setting them on the coffee table with a gentle ‘clink.” The shoebox he’d given you sits on the floor. The lid is off, the letters contained within are a mess. Have you read them, or did they spill out? There’s no way for him to really know. 

Silently, you hand him a glass and sit on the other side of the couch, grabbing one of the throw pillows to hug in your lap. You sip at the double in your glass stoically, and for a moment, you stare at him. He has to resist the urge to squirm under your gaze. There’s something different about how you’re sitting, something in your aura that he didn’t notice in the cafe. Maybe you’d been saving it for private, but he can sense that you’re reining your emotions in. 

But then finally, after what feels like an eternity, you turn over your hand. Two pieces of paper sit in your palm. “I’m going to need you to explain these.” The two letters float over to him and open themselves in front of him.

The first is dated only a few years after he’d left.

I’ve been struck by a thought. I had tacos earlier, and I just know you would have loved them. Which made me realize that there’s still part of me that thinks about you at every turn. Your friendship was such an integral part of my life, and not having it anymore feels like there’s a piece missing. Last week it was a song on the radio. Before that, a stray cat I saw that I know for certain you would have loved. Everything reminds me of you, everything leads back to you. You’re everywhere and nowhere, and…

I would like to see you again. Someday. 

How have you been doing? Where has your life taken you? I can only hope it’s treated you kindly. It’s what you deserve.

The other is from the day he turned 25.

A quarter of a century, and for some reason I feel incredibly old. With it comes some realizations, things I didn’t understand before. Maybe I was too young, too blinded by my own need to feel free… but it never was about being free from you. I can’t even begin to imagine how hurtful it must have been for you…

I never wanted to make you feel like I was giving up on you, like I didn’t want you. I never wanted to make you feel rejected, because it wasn’t you I was trying to be free from.

I was so scared of having my whole life laid out in front of me. I never took the time to think what my life could be with the bond–I only ever thought about what the bond meant for my life. All of the expectations, what comes with being a familiar, our roles in society and the universe…

I realize now that I could have–should have–communicated it all better. If only so that I wouldn’t have lost you. So that it wouldn’t have led to me making you feel like I was rejecting you. Maybe it wouldn’t have mattered; at the end of the day I was still walking away from you. But at least maybe I could have made it more clear that it was never you that I wanted to be free from.

I’m sorry. I feel like it’s useless to say, but I am so sorry for not realizing any of this before.

Wherever you are, I hope you’ll understand. Take care until I see you again.

I hope I see you again.

Yoongi sighs. The letters–all of them, not just these two–tended to be rambling diatribes, a snapshot of his thoughts as he worked through his feelings about his own life and everything and you. He’d been an idiot when he left–he was 17 and full of himself and terrified of the world but too proud to admit it–and it had taken him far too long to realize a lot of important things.

For a moment, it’s quiet as he thinks of what to say. How should he even begin? But apparently, he’s quiet for too long, because you wave your hand and the letters fold themselves back up and float back down to the shoebox. When you speak, you sound exhausted. “Why are you here, Yoongi?”

“I-”

“Because if the roles were reversed, I don’t know that I’d have the balls to come back. On one hand, I’m impressed. On the other…” You trail off and shrug.

He’s quiet, not sure how to respond. He’s got lots of thoughts, lots of feelings–of course he does–but right now, you’re a wall, and he’s not sure how to read the situation. He’s not sure what you need to hear right now. So he says nothing.

You laugh, but there’s no humor in it, and you look down at the glass in your hand, stare into the dregs of the amber whisky you’ve nearly finished. “I’m running on like two hours’ sleep,” you admit. “But fuck, Yoongi, I… I was so convinced that I’d never see you again. I wasn’t sure I wanted to.” Then, softer. “I’m still not sure.”

“Why?” It’s out of his mouth before he can even think and god, he just wants the Earth to open up and swallow him whole.

It takes a second for you to process his absolute trash heap of an asinine question. But when you do, your face contorts into somewhere between anger, disappointment, and heartbreak. “What do you mean, ‘why’?” You practically spit the question at him. “You… you… Do you know what it’s like to have the most important person in your life tell you that he wants rid of you?”

“I never said-”

“You wanted to be free. From all of it. From me.” You pick at the corner of the pillow in your lap. “And then you just come back out of the blue like nothing happened and drop this damn shoebox at my feet-” from where it sits on the floor, the shoebox explodes, letters flying everywhere, “-and you just… What did you expect, Yoongi? What do you want?”

“I don’t know!” He sounds a little desperate when he says it, and he hates that, hates how pathetic it makes him sound. So he shrugs, takes a deep breath, leans back a little. “I don’t know,” he repeats. “I just… I missed you. And then mom told me about your parents, and…” He runs a hand through his hair, pushing it back off his forehead and out of his eyes. “And then I was on a train.”

You stare at him for a moment, a little gobsmacked. You have no idea how to respond. What do you say to that? Where do you even start? There are a hundred things you could say. You’ve played this scenario out a thousand times in your head over the years–what would you do if he came back?–but somehow, it never played out like this. In your mind, he’d never told you that he missed you.

You’d never considered that he would miss you.

But you should say something, right? It’s weird that you’re sitting there, just staring at him in complete silence. Has your jaw been clenched the whole time? Does he think you’re angry with him? Quickly, you school your face into something a little more neutral and say the first thing that comes to mind.

“How long are you here for?”

Truthfully, you probably should have asked sooner. You’ve been wondering since he showed up on your doorstep last night, but it never seemed like a great time to ask.

He sighs. “‘Till tomorrow.”

You nod, probably longer than it makes sense to, but it takes you a bit to process. Tomorrow. He’s back in your life for two days, and then he’s gone again. That’s not even enough time to catch up, let alone actually talk with him. And that’s… you aren’t sure how to feel. 

Yoongi watches you quietly and takes a sip of his drink. He’s barely touched it. “Maybe…” he says after a moment, leaning forward to put his glass on the coffee table. “Maybe I should go?”

Part of you wants to tell him no, to ask him to stay, to tell you more about his gig working at the bar. Anything to keep him here and talking to you. But there’s a more logical part of you that’s overwhelmed, that needs some time to think. He’s offering to go, which means that he’s either uncomfortable or his train leaves early in the morning. Or both. He stands, thanks you for the drink, and you follow him to the door. He hesitates just outside, opens his mouth as if to say something and closes it almost as quickly.

You say nothing. And for the second time in as many days, you watch him leave without another word.

The playground was almost empty. Mama said it was supposed to rain, but she’d also said that you would go anyway, for a little bit. You were trying to learn how to swing on your own, and plus Yoongi and his mom were going to be there, and he’d said he’d bring his trucks to play in the sand. 

But he wasn’t there yet, so you were on the swing. Mama pushed you, her hand firm on your back, and you closed your eyes. You were flying, wind in your face as you launched forward into the air. And then, just as suddenly, you were falling, swinging backward.

“Remember what I said,” mama said softly. “Kick your legs.”

You weren’t quite sure what she meant by that. Your legs were little, and when you kicked out, you felt more like you were going to slide out of the swing seat than anything. You heard her laugh a little, but her hand was on your back once again, propelling you forward. 

A few minutes passed in a blur of forwards and backwards. You still didn’t quite understand the whole swinging on your own thing, but mama’s rhythmic pushes kept you going. But then, a small voice at the edge of the playground yelled your name, and you heard excited footsteps in the wood chips. Mama helped you slow to a stop, and you jumped off the swing.

A little boy, his dark hair cut short by his own mom, ran toward you. He was carrying an armful of small cars and larger trucks. He skidded to a stop in front of you, a wide, gummy grin engulfing his face and crinkling the corners of his eyes.

“I brought all my trucks!” he announced, looking down at the toys in his arms. “You can be the green one. Here.” He tried to hand it to you, and another fell in the process.

You picked it up and took the green truck from him. It was bright green–the same shade as the lime popsicles Yoongi’s mom usually bought–and it had big wheels. You followed him to the sandbox and you both plopped down. It didn’t take long to have a whole city constructed. Granted, it was all made from rocks and wood chips and other small things you found around the sandbox. But it was a city and it was beautiful.

Yoongi drove his truck over a bump, making engine noises as he pushed it toward you. As he drove the truck down another sand hill, bumping and bouncing it over sticks and rocks, something fell out of the sleeve of his jacket. It was perfectly round, and it rolled to a stop in front of you. You picked it up and inspected it. It was some kind of rock, hard and shiny, but it was also colorful, and you were pretty sure rocks couldn’t be blue. 

One look at the rock and he frowned, calling for his mom. She came over immediately and crouched down to see what he was so concerned about. Your mama followed her, and she was the one that saw the rock in your hand first.

“Oh,” she said, her hand gently smoothing down your hair. “You two have found your gem.”

“Wha’s that mean?” Yoongi asked, looking up at his mom. 

She smiled and sat in the sand beside him, pulling him into her lap. She held out her arm, twisted her bracelet around so that he could see it. “You know how I have this from your dad? It’s like that.”

“But-”

“Your friendship is special,” she continued, pinching his cheek. Yoongi laughed. “It means you’ve gotta look out for each other now.”

For a moment, he was quiet. But then he nodded, just once. “Okay!” He held out his hand to you, tiny palm face up. “Can I have it?”

“It’s not yours anymore,” his mom said softly, brushing his short hair back. “It’s a gift.”

You looked to your mama and she nodded. “Take care of it,” she told you. “You only get one.”

Middle school was the worst. Everything was difficult. Social situations, interactions with your parents, school. At the time, it all seemed like it was unfairly hard. Making it worse, of course, was getting sick. As a kid, you were never sick that often. Yoongi was a different story. For whatever reason, familiars were just more susceptible to illness, and when he got sick, he got sick. 

It was the middle of the semester, and Yoongi hadn’t been to school in days. Your teachers hadn’t even asked, they’d just started giving you packets–homework and printouts of their lessons and extra materials–so he wouldn’t fall behind. So you stopped by his house after school. His mom let you in, offering you some of the snacks she was making for Yoongi before you headed up the stairs to his room. 

You knocked gently before entering. The knock was a politeness–you were close enough with him and familiar enough with his room at this point in your life that you could just barge in without warning and you knew he wouldn’t mind. He looked like hell, stuck in his bed buried in blankets. It was clear he’d had a fever at some point, because his hair looked damp and sweaty. 

But he sat up when you walked in, coughing deeply before speaking. “You’re going to get sick, too,” he protested weakly. 

You waved him off. “Everyone’s sick.” You pulled over his desk chair to the side of his bed and started to go through your bag. “Ms. Miller gave me your math homework, but if you understand it, you’ll have to explain it to me because I have no idea what she’s talking about.” He giggled at that, gummy smile soon hidden by his hand as he coughed. “Here’s the novel for Brown’s class. She said she’d talk to you about making up the paper when you’re back.”

It took a surprisingly long time to go through eight classes’ worth of homework and assignments, but you’d put sticky notes at the front of each packet explaining things, too, so the fact that he was half-asleep for most of your explanation didn’t really matter. 

“Will you stay?” he asked when you were done. “Help me with some of this?”

“What happened to not wanting me to get sick?” you teased.

“I mean, you don’t have to. If you want to go home, that’s fine, too. I just-” He coughed, burying his face in his blankets. 

“You staying for dinner, hon?” Yoongi’s mom called from the bottom of the stairs.

“Yes please!” you responded, shuffling through the stack of packets you’d brought for Yoongi. “Wanna take a stab at math?”

Halfway through the fall of your senior year, Yoongi started to get… weird. Cagey. Like he was trying to hide something and figure out particle physics at the same time. You’d tried asking him about it a few times, only for him to wave you off with a quiet “just thinking about some things.” After that, he’d be back to normal for a few days. But every time, like clockwork, he would fall back into it.

Finally, on the third day of the new year, he pulled you aside. Tucked back into the dormant foliage of the park, away from prying eyes, he stood, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. He was nervous, you could feel it deep inside you, but to be honest, you didn’t really need your bond to tell you what was plain to see. 

“I…” He trailed off, unsure of how to continue. His brows furrowed in thought, and after a moment, he motioned for you to sit. “I need to tell you something.”

“Okay?” You sat on the edge of a big rock, confused.

“I…” he started again, sitting beside you. You could feel a spike of nerves, and he took a breath to steady himself. “I’ve been doing a lot of thinking, and I think… fuck, this is harder than I thought it would be.”

“You can just say it,” you told him. “It’s just me.”

He nodded and mumbled something that sounded a lot like ‘that’s the problem,’ but after a moment, he continued. “I need to be free of all of this.”

“What?”

“Haven’t you ever thought that maybe the universe doesn’t know what it’s talking about? That maybe you’d be happier if you chose things for yourself?” He frowned. “There’s rules for gifts. We’re only good at certain types of magic because of how we were born. We have to celebrate holidays certain ways, we have to do specific things on our birthdays-”

“-and we get told who we’re to bond to.”

He recoiled at your words. “That’s not-”

“But it’s true, right?” Your gaze fell from him to your hands. “It’s just one more thing you don’t get to control.”

Yoongi sighed. “I just… want to be able to choose for myself.”

Suddenly, you were sick to your stomach. This was the last thing you’d expected. You didn’t particularly like all of the traditions, either, but you were 17. What the hell were you going to do about it? But this felt like he was saying he didn’t want you. You hadn’t yet talked about the kiss at the night market a few weeks prior, but you’d never guessed that he’d do such a sudden about-face. 

“Right,” you said softly.

“Just… think about it?” he asked, dark eyes pleading. 

You didn’t like where this was going, didn’t like how it made you feel. But you nodded anyway. Maybe he would change his mind.

Days gave way to weeks and months, and before you knew it, spring had come. Yoongi hadn’t changed his mind. If anything, he’d gotten more insistent. 

“I want to find myself,” he’d told you once. “I need to make sure this is how I want to live my life.”

“I just need to get away,” he’d said one day while you were doing homework together. “Start fresh somewhere new.”

And then, on the way home from school one day, he��d said, “I need to be free of it all.” 

And you’d snapped. Three months of hearing him talk about it, three months of him basically saying that your entire way of life was wrong and that he was chafing to get away. You couldn’t help it.

“Fuck off,” you’d told him, taking the trail behind the houses at a faster pace. Despite being so attuned with nature thanks to his familiar genes, he’d had trouble keeping up with you.

“Would you slow down?” You could hear the frustration in Yoongi’s voice as he followed you. You ignored him. “Goddamnit,” he breathed, picking up his pace. “Will you at least listen to me?”

He’d pushed. And eventually, you’d given in. Because despite everything, you’d loved him, and if he was unhappy, you wanted to fix that. And now…

Now you’re sitting alone at the train station at ass o’clock in the morning. The train station has just barely opened, and already you’re inside, clutching a cup of coffee. There are a few other people here, milling around, waiting for their early trains to god knows where. You can feel them watching you, can feel them trying to make it subtle that they’re staring. At this point, you’re used to it. Word travels fast in small towns, especially when that word is as earth-shattering as a broken bond gem and a falling out between a witch and their familiar. 

You try to ignore them, focus on your coffee and the posters across the waiting area from you. 

Report any unattended or suspicious luggage to National Rail personnel.

Bags larger than this poster must be checked into the train’s luggage car.

Please remain seated until your train is announced and National Rail personnel give authorization to enter the platform.

You scroll through the news on your phone. Read the posters again. Stare out the window at the coffee shop across the street. And wait. A train arrives, and the couple that had been staring at you leaves. You sigh and stand to throw out your now empty cup.

Just as you do, the door to the train station opens. You turn to look, and there stands Yoongi. He’s wearing a black shirt, a bag slung across his body. His hair is pushed back off his face and he’s wearing his glasses. He’s clutching an absolutely massive travel mug and his phone in one hand, the other rolls a small suitcase behind him. He looks sleepy, but the second his dark eyes land on you, he jolts a little, as if electrocuted into being awake and alert.

“Hey,” he says cautiously, approaching you.

“Hey.” You wave slightly–awkwardly.

“What are you doing here?” His voice is soft, still a little gruff from sleep. You get the sense that maybe he hasn’t said much of anything to anyone this morning.

You sigh and gesture for him to follow you to a bench. The next train–his, you presume–isn’t due for another 20 minutes. You have time, but not much.

“I didn’t like how we left things,” you admit. “I… I wasn't sure if you were serious.”

“Serious?” His head falls to the side slightly, confused. But then, it seems, he understands, and he nods. “I did miss you–I do. I spent the entire ride here thinking about how seeing you again was going to go.”

“Were you right?”

He chuckles. “Not exactly.”

You hum and nod, and for the briefest of moments, silence settles over you. The stationmaster types away at his computer, the clacking of the keyboard the only sound in the entire station. But then you force yourself to say something that’s been on your mind since he showed up on your doorstep two days ago.

“It’s been good seeing you again,” you say, and even though you mean it, you can’t bring yourself to look at him. “I… think in a way, after so long, I made you the villain in my head. It’s good to see that you’re… not that.”

“I am sorry,” he whispers. “That was the worst thing I have ever done, and I just…”

“I get it.”

“What?”

“I think I kind of always did, but… it just hurt too much to think that you were including me in everything that you wanted to get away from, and I just-”

“You were the last thing I wanted to get away from.” Maybe it’s the waver in his voice, maybe it’s the way he ducks his head to make sure he makes eye contact, but you believe him. He sits his mug down on the bench beside him and gathers your hands in his. “I was so fucking dumb. I would have taken you with me in a heartbeat, but god I was too stupid and selfish to take ten minutes to think.”

“I thought maybe I’d done something,” you admit quietly. “I thought that maybe after the night market-”

“No! Oh my god, no,” he exclaims, his hands tightening around your own. “You’re my best friend! I lo-”

“Train 49–the Northern Limited–will be arriving on the platform in five minutes,” the stationmaster announces, not even bothering to use the building’s intercom. “I’ll take you over to the platform when you’re ready.”

Yoongi groans.

“Here.” You pull your hands away from him and immediately miss the warmth of him. But you reach into your pocket, unlocking your phone and shoving it into his hands in one motion. “Put your number in.”

For a moment, he stares at you, dumbfounded. But then the stationmaster opens the door to his office, and the noise jolts Yoongi into action. He types quickly and hands you your phone. You don’t even look at it, just lock it and shove it into your pocket. He hands you his phone and you enter your own contact information before giving it back.

You stand at the same time, and for one brief, quiet moment, you worry that maybe he’s just going to leave it at that. But then he rubs the back of his neck and glances toward the stationmaster.

“I’ll text you,” he promises.

You nod, almost mechanically. You weren’t expecting it to hurt this much to see him leave again. As he turns to gather his things, something comes over you.

“I- Can we-” You sigh, take a deep breath. “Can I have a hug?”

He makes a noise somewhere between a hum and a squeak, and it takes almost no time for the pink to start blossoming on his cheeks. He sputters for a second, and you can feel his shock. But then he opens his arms, and you find yourself taking a small step forward.

It’s shockingly easy to fall back into him, to step into his arms. He’s warm, and solid, but still also somehow soft. His cologne lingers on his clothes, all lavender-y and citrus-y and sage-y. Your arms fit around his waist, and for a moment, you let yourself pretend that this is normal, that nothing ever happened and that he isn’t leaving. But you hear the train horn in the distance and you pull away. You kiss his cheek as you part, and his eyes go wide in shock.

“Text me,” you tell him firmly, reaching down to grab his coffee mug and hand it to him.

“I will. I promise.”

And with one last, fleeting look, he steps onto the elevator with the stationmaster to go over to the platform. 

You stand outside the station long after the train departs, feeling very much like you did when he’d left the first time. You should be feeling optimistic–for the first time in a long time, you feel like maybe there’s hope. For you, for your friendship, for… whatever comes next. But it’s hard to feel any sort of positive when he’s on a train back to a city seven hours away, and you have to go home in the exact opposite direction in a few short days.

As you’re walking back to your car in the lot down the street, your phone dings. When you unlock it, you get the sudden feeling that you’re flying, like a horde of butterflies have erupted within you. It’s nerves and it’s excitement and maybe, it’s also a little bit of hope.

Yoongi 💙: thanks again for not turning me into a bug

“I’ve been thinking,” Yoongi says one late night, his deep, sleep-deprived voice distorted ever so slightly by the distance and the speakers of your phone. You can barely see him–there’s a dim light that just slightly illuminates his face, but the rest of the room is dark.

“Dangerous,” you joke.

“Rude.” He nuzzles down further into his pillow. “I’d like to come visit,” he admits softly.

For a moment, your mind goes blank. There’s a fluttering in your stomach, hundreds of butterflies trying to escape at once. He’d kept his word after the train station, texting and calling you frequently over the past couple weeks. You’d text throughout the week–little messages about bad days and delicious lunches and cute dogs–and then on the weekends, one of you would inevitably end up calling each other. You’d spend hours on the phone, sometimes talking, sometimes just existing in the silence between you. 

The video calls were a recent development. Since they began, you’d watched him cook dinner, he’d played piano while you worked on a spreadsheet for work, and one early morning, he’d called you on his way home after bartending so he wouldn’t fall asleep on the train.

“What do you mean?” You laugh a little. Maybe it was a little obvious what he meant, but you wanted to hear him say it.

He groans a little, stretches one arm up before covering his eyes with it. He peeks out at you through the cook in his elbow, one singular, dark eye sparkling, even in the poor quality of the video. “I miss you,” he mumbles, and you almost don’t catch it, it’s so muffled by his arm and your phone’s speaker.

You hum. The butterflies in your stomach make themselves known again. “I guess you could come.”

“I don’t have to if you don’t want me to.”

“Hey now. It’s against the rules to take something like that back.”

He laughs. “What rules?”

“You know. The rules.” You gesture vaguely before pulling your blanket up a little further on your body. “Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten the rules?” He grunts. “Being away for so long has rotted your brain, I’m afraid.”

“So rude.” His arm is still obscuring his face slightly, but you can see his big, gummy smile as he laughs. “No, but seriously. Are you busy next weekend?”

You frown. You’d been trying to forget about next weekend. “Normally I’d go home for the new year,” you say softly.

“Why don’t,” he begins, stifling a yawn. You’re a little surprised he’s made it this long without seeming tired. It’s almost 3am. “Why don’t I come hang out? We can do new year’s stuff together.”

“You’re sure?”

“Of course.”

“What about work?”

He shifts, the arm that was over his face now supporting his head under his pillow. “I make the schedule. They’ll deal with it.”

“Yoongi.”

He continues on, ignoring you. “I can work the day shift and get a train right after work on Friday, but I wouldn’t get there until late, is that okay?”

You sigh. It would be nice to not spend the holiday alone. And it would be nice to see him again. Sure, you’ve been talking to him in one way or another, but it’s different than having him in person. You finally agree, and he shoots you a smug, sleepy smile.

The week passes at a glacial pace. Work is slow because of the break in classes for the upcoming holiday, and spending time in an empty library is infinitely less entertaining than you’d expect it to be. Most of your coworkers have taken off, so you’re mostly alone with your thoughts. You fill the time with paperwork, completing literature loan requests for the University’s faculty and doing intake for the newly released journals the library has subscriptions for. 

In the small handful of weeks since you’d seen him last, you’d replayed things in your mind. But mostly, you’ve been stuck on how nice it is to have him in your life again. You aren’t fooling yourself. You haven’t forgotten. But there’s a part of you–a large part, if you’re honest with yourself–that hopes that this is a step forward, that you can be close again. Maybe not how you were, but something that resembles a friendship.

After an eternity, it’s Friday. You sit outside of the train station in your car, parked in one of the pick up spots just outside of the main door. The trickle of people into and out of the station has slowed significantly now that it’s dark out–you’ve never seen it this dead. It’s late, the station is getting ready to close, but there’s one last train that has yet to come in. There’s another car parked a few spaces to your left, and you wonder briefly about who they’re waiting to pick up, but it’s fleeting. 

The door to the station opens automatically, and out steps Yoongi. He rolls a suitcase beside him, a messenger bag slung across his body, his other hand shoved deep into his hoodie pocket. He looks around, confused, his gaze going back and forth between your car and the one to your left. You turn on the dome light and wave and he nods.

He gives you a quick greeting as he opens the back door, shoving his bags in the back seat. When he finally climbs into the passenger seat, he sighs deeply, resting his head against the headrest for a moment before turning to you.

“Hey,” he says softly.

“Hey. How was the train?”

He groans. “Long.”

You hum. He’d worked a short, early shift so he could catch the last train from Ulmae to Ashland. He looks and sounds exhausted. But he’s here. He’s not a face on a screen, he’s in your car. You resist the urge to reach out and touch him. It’s strange. You’d been without him for nearly 13 years. It’s only been a few short weeks since you’d seen him last, but you’re giddy, practically bursting with excitement at the fact that, for the next two and a half days, he’s here. With you.

You drive in relative silence, willing the lights to be green more for Yoongi’s sake than your own. The radio plays a soft hip-hop song, and you vaguely recognize it as one of the bands he’d been obsessed with in high school, but you don’t turn it up. You’re fairly certain that he’s fallen asleep, his head lolled slightly to the side so that he’s facing the window.

It’s a damn miracle that there’s an open spot in front of your building, but you gladly take it. There are people in your building who don’t know how to parallel park—who refuse to do it—but you’d taught yourself just for instances like this. For a moment, you think you’re going to have to wake Yoongi up, but just as you cut the engine, he unbuckles his seat belt and stretches.

Your apartment isn’t large, but it’s bigger than most for what you pay for it. You’re on the seventh floor, the top floor of the building, and your bedroom has a lovely view of the building beside you. But if you lean a little to one side and press your face up against the glass, you can see out into the city beyond, and the university campus in the far distance.

He sits his bags down in your living room and plops down on the couch. You’ve already set out some blankets and a couple pillows for him. The clock on your microwave says 11:05.

“You’re probably exhausted,” you say. “I’ll let you get settled.”

Immediately, he picks his head up from the back cushion of the couch. “’m not tired.” Ever defiant. But you can tell he’s lying. You can see it in his eyes how groggy he is. Normally, he’s up much later than this–you know, because sometimes, he calls you–but between working an early shift and the six-hour train ride, you don’t blame him for being a little sleepy.

“I put some towels out in the bathroom,” you tell him, gesturing down the hall. “It’s the door on the left. Let me know if you need anything else.”

“Thanks.”

And with that, you leave him there in your living room. You can hear him unzipping his bag as you retreat into your room.

An hour later, you find that you can’t sleep. Not that you’ve even tried. You aren’t even sure why you’re so wired. But you’re sitting in your bed, legs covered by a sheet, in the dim light of your bedside lamp. You’ve had friends stay over before. But this… you feel like you did as a kid, having your first sleepover. Except back then you were wired on soda and sugary snacks and it was a treat to stay up late. Now, you’re just…

You hear the bathroom door open and shut, and after a moment, Yoongi stands in the doorway to your room.

“You have the softest towels in the world,” he says, hair hanging in damp strands in front of his eyes. He pats and scrunches it dry with one of the fluffy grey towels you’d set out for him. 

“Would you believe I got them on clearance?”

“I’ll just have to stuff one in my bag, then.”

“I charge a 5% fee for any towels that leave the premises.”

At that, he laughs, a groggy, squeaky sound that shakes his shoulders and crinkles his eyes and leaves a wide, gummy smile in its wake.

“So… what’s the plan for tomorrow?”

“I haven’t really thought about it.” He shoots you a look that says he doesn’t believe you, and you relent. “Well,” you pat the bed beside you, inviting him to sit, “There’s this thing every year in the park to watch the meteors,” you say as Yoongi eases himself onto the mattress. “But it doesn’t start until late.” He hums. “Was there something you wanted to do?” 

“No, just-” He stifles a yawn. “Curious.” He leans back against the headboard, settling in.

Just like that, you fall easily into conversation. It’s comfortable, calm. Just two old friends chatting. He likes your apartment, thinks the tile in your bathroom is really nice. He asks about your job, nods along as you tell him about working in the library and your coworkers. 

And slowly, his reactions become slower, delayed, until he finally doesn’t respond at all. You look over, and his chin is tucked against his chest, his breathing gentle. Asleep.

For a moment, you consider going out to the couch. It would be weird, right, to stay here with him? But as you’re about to kick the blanket off, you pause. 

We’re adults. Adults can share a bed. It doesn’t have to mean anything. You’re mature enough to let this just be two people sleeping in the same space. 

At least, you think you are. 

But as you settle in yourself, snuggling down into your blankets and turning off the light, you’re suddenly faced with the quiet peacefulness of his face. He’d always been handsome, and now that you’re both older, you can appreciate just how beautiful he really is. He sighs and slides down a little, his hand brushing against your arm as he gets more comfortable. 

Oh no. 

You sit on the floor of your living room, a box of pizza on the coffee table that you’ve shoved out of the way. Yoongi’s beside you, your backs against the couch as you watch some anime he’d been trying to convince you to watch back in high school. You’re three episodes in, and you don’t have the heart to tell him that you don’t really care for the basketball-themed show. Part of you is still afraid that if you say something wrong, he’ll be gone again. 

His arm rests casually behind you on the cushions, far enough away that it’s more a comfortable way to sit than any sort of advance, but that doesn’t stop the smallest of butterflies from making itself known in your stomach. This Yoongi is so different from the Yoongi you knew—the one who, as a kid, got excited by construction equipment and the concept of ice cream, and as a teen spent his free time hiding from his parents, playing the piano and hanging out with you (though neither were mutually exclusive). He’s quiet, comfortable in the silence, comfortable with letting things linger. 

You’re a little jealous of it, to be honest. 

Yoongi leans forward slightly, and a piece of pizza meets him halfway, floating gently into his grasp. “Do you remember,” he begins, settling back in against the couch, “when we were 16 and we went camping?” You hum an affirmative. “We spent most of the week playing old board games with my parents.”

You smile at the memory. If anyone had asked back then, you would have told them it was lame that you’d had to spend the whole time with Yoongi’s parents. But now? That was one of the more fun summers you’d ever had. “What made you think of that?”

He shrugs, mouth full of pizza. “I dunno. But I’ve been thinking about it a lot recently. Things were so much simpler then…” 

You nod and hum softly, but ultimately, you say nothing. Much simpler indeed. 

“You know,” Yoongi begins, zipping his coat up to his chin, “when you said ‘park’, I was kind of expecting it to be in the city.”

“I think technically it is.” You lock your car and meet him at the front of it.

“We drove for an hour!”

You shrug. “Big city.”

He laughs and shakes his head, incredulous. He can’t tell if you’re being serious or not, but there was a sign on the way in with the university logo on it, so he supposes that whether it’s part of the city or not, it doesn’t really matter. There’s a well-lit trail that runs from the shale parking lot up a hill slightly to a clearing that overlooks the city and the rest of the park. It’s busy–people mill about around the parking lot, and he can see a steady stream of visitors on the trail up to the clearing. 

He adjusts his coat–it’s cold, and both his shoulder and his senses ache with the impending snow–and when he’s ready, the two of you start walking toward the trail. It’s astonishingly busy, and as you weave your way through the crowd, leading him up the hill, he grabs your hand. 

So we don’t get separated, he tells himself. For a moment, he expects you to pull away. Not maliciously, he’s not expecting you to scoff and throw his hand away. But what he isn’t expecting is for you to tighten your grip on him and tug him this way and that as you get closer to the clearing. His hand is warm where your skin touches his, like he’s holding a candle a little too close to the flame.

The clearing is massive, mostly flat but not entirely, with gentle rolling slopes that provide some extra elevation here and there. On one of the little hills, a few food trucks are set up, though how they got there, Yoongi isn’t really sure. Someone must have magicked them through the path or up the hill or something. There are picnic tables scattered around, mostly near the food trucks, but throughout the clearing, as well. Towards the edge of the clearing, there’s a cliff with an overlook that has a spectacular view of the city vista below. People are everywhere. Of course, there are a lot of college-aged kids hanging out in big and small groups. But there’s also a shocking amount of people that are Yoongi’s age and older–professors, he assumes, and university staff here to enjoy the evening. Almost all of them are holding drinks, and just about every one of them seems to be paired with someone.

It’s subtle sometimes, seeing bonded witches and familiars. Of course, the ones who are romantically involved tend to be more obvious, but the ones that are just friends are just as easy to spot once you know what to look for. It’s the people who stand so close together they’re almost touching, the ones who lean in a little extra close to whisper something. And the clearing is full of pairs standing in each other’s personal spaces.

You tug on his hand to direct him off to the left and he blindly follows, squeezing your fingers ever so gently as a response. 

There’s a pair of people at one of the tables by the food trucks. They spot you almost immediately, and one of them stands to greet you. He’s a little taller than you are, made even more obvious when he gives you an awkward, one-armed hug over the picnic table’s bench. The other one–a woman–remains seated, eyeing Yoongi.

For a hot minute, it’s weird, as he stands there in silence while you chat with the man and woman. It’s not even the side-eye that the woman’s shooting him. The man is handsome–Yoongi’s not blind–and you are friendly with him. But there’s a moment, the briefest of moments, where you gesture somewhere off to your left. And when your body moves, Yoongi’s arm moves, too, and a little part of him, a silly, childish, hopeful part, soars.

You’re still holding his hand.

Eventually, you introduce him to the two. Alice works the reference desk in your library while she’s doing a doctorate program in linguistics. Her partner is gone in the winter, fighting fires in the far south. Despite her harsh side-eye, she greets Yoongi with a smile and a polite handshake. Jihwan, on the other hand, is the head baseball coach at the university. How the two of you met, Yoongi can only guess, but you make no mention of Jihwan’s partner, and Yoongi doesn’t see a gem anywhere. He almost–almost–starts to feel bad for the guy, but then he opens his mouth.

You ask a simple question, gesturing with your head to the food trucks. “What do they have good?”

“The pierogi guy from last year is back-”

Jihwan interrupts Alice. “Too much butter.”

It’s not even what he says. It’s how he says it. Like you and Alice are toddlers, like you can’t be trusted not to drown yourselves in carbs. But you roll your eyes and Alice scoffs playfully, and Yoongi realizes that this is not the first time Jihwan has done something like this. And suddenly, Yoongi hates this guy. 

“Apparently, he’s got a new flavor this year,” Alice says, continuing like Jihwan never interrupted. “But the taco guy is also back-”

“Is the popcorn guy back?” you ask. laughing. “Because I kind of want a front-row seat to that.” Yoongi must look confused, because you explain. “Pierogi guy’s daughter was engaged to taco guy’s daughter. But last year, pierogi guy and taco guy just started yelling at each other-”

“-It was amazing,” Alice adds.

“It was ridiculous,” Jihwan mumbles.

You push him.  “It was a little like having our own little telenovela here.”

Cautiously, Yoongi asks, “Why were they fighting?”

“No one knows.” You shrug. “But it launched a campus-wide food war. Everyone was choosing sides. It was like the year the Moondance tried to change its logo.”

Jihwan and Alice look at you, a little confused. But Yoongi knows exactly what you’re talking about. Somewhere around when you were preteens, the owners of the Moondance diner decided that its logo was outdated and wanted to update it. The whole town had been in an uproar, whole neighborhoods entering into a Cold War-esque stand-off over their preferences. People who had been friends for 50 years were suddenly in an unsolvable, unending argument. All over a color palette swap and a slightly newer font. Yoongi hadn’t cared much one way or the other–all businesses change their logos at some point, right?–and he always suspected that you didn’t either, but you’d both gotten swept up in the chaos of it all. It was stupid, ridiculous fun, and he’s pretty sure that his parents still have the buttons you’d made somewhere in their house.

You finally let go of Yoongi’s hand when you’re standing in line at the taco truck, and he’s painfully aware of how empty it feels now. You don’t go far, though, standing close enough that your elbow brushes against his every once in a while. You’re scrolling through your phone, reading some news article to pass the time. It’s gotten darker since you’ve been there, and looking up, he can just barely make out a couple pinpricks of stars in the sky. The clearing is fairly bright, with little flickering balls of light criss-crossing the space like bistro lighting, and the lights from the city below don’t help to make the night sky visible. 

You pay for his tacos–”I get an employee discount,” you say, brandishing your university id like it’s a black card–and Yoongi doesn’t think that you were in line that long, but when you return to the table, Alice and Jihwan are gone. 

“Where’d-” He’s not even asked the question, but you’re already shrugging.

“Alice’s probably off calling her fiance,” you say it like you’re back in high school, all singsong-y and mockingly, “and who knows where Jihwan got to. Probably trying to take someone home tonight.”

“He seems…”

You sigh. “Yeah.”

“How’d you meet him?”

A pang of… something hits him. Your expression falls, ever so slightly, and he regrets asking. But after a brief moment, you clear your throat. “He and I are the only two on campus without gems.”

Oh. 

Well.

That makes sense.

“So they…”

You pick a piece of red cabbage off your taco and eat it. “Yeah, they know.”

Which explains Alice’s side-eye earlier. The weird emotion he’d gotten from you is gone now, and you seem to have just brushed right past the awkward feelings. 

He hums, not really sure what to say. What’s there to say? So instead of saying anything dumb, he does the safe thing. He changes the subject.

“No wonder they didn’t kick the taco guy out of the festival this year.” He takes another bite of his taco. “This is the best al pastor I’ve ever had.”

“His chimichangas are amazing, but he only makes them on special days.”

“More special than…?” He gestures vaguely. Around you, the lights have started to dim. Yoongi isn’t really sure when that started, but things are definitely less bright.

You laugh, and something inside of him warms.

He hasn’t even finished his tacos yet, but the vibe in the clearing starts to dramatically change. The crowd gathers tighter, a palpable buzz in the air. Alice has returned and stands alone near the head of the table. She’s looking up at the sky, and when Yoongi looks up, he sees why. There’s an aurora in the sky, gentle waves of effervescent greens and blues swirling through the heavens, just like the night market all those years ago. It has to be magic of some sort–the city isn’t far enough north for it to be natural–but he can’t tell who’s doing it.

A hand on his shoulder pulls his focus back to the ground. You’re there behind him, bathed in the dim glow of the floating lights around you. By now, it’s almost dark, but even in the low light and deep shadows, you’re beautiful. 

“Come on,” you say softly. “Let’s get a good spot closer to the lookout.”

He follows you through the crowd, weaving around the bodies to get closer to the edge of the clearing. It’s tight, and you grab his hand so you don’t get separated. Normally, Yoongi isn’t a huge fan of crowds like this. You’re a small island in a sea of people, and he barely has room to turn in a circle without bumping into someone. You stand close–close enough that he can feel your warmth through the chill of the night.

The city spans the valley below, a forest of metal and windows and concrete. A bright spot in the middle of an otherwise dark night. But then, individually at first and then more, the buildings’ lights begin to flicker out.

“They’ve been doing this festival since before the city got public electricity,” you explain, answering his question before he could even ask. “It’s kind of a big deal.”

With the lights of the city mostly out, the stars above are much brighter. He can almost see them twinkling and winking as they burn, millions of billions of lightyears away. The night sky is beautiful, and his eyes drift around to locate the constellations he’d learned as a child. Almost immediately, he finds Perseus, right beside his wife Andromeda. You’d loved the myth of Perseus slaying Medusa when you were kids, and even though he hadn’t looked for the constellation in over a decade, finding it is still ingrained in him. 

He nudges you slightly, pointing up to the constellation. But just as he does, a pinprick of light streaks across the sky. You squeeze his hand as more streaks start to appear and the gathered crowd buzzes with ‘ooh’s and ‘aah’s. The meteors are all sizes. Big and bright. Small and thin. They aren’t constant, only a few show up every minute, but it’s beautiful to watch. 

There’s a strange sensation growing in his chest, something warm and fluttering and all-encompassing. You lean a little closer and the feeling grows. You must sense something–he’s never really been sure what his emotions feel like for you–because you look up at him. For a moment, you look confused.

Yoongi isn’t really sure how it happens, but what he does know is that suddenly, your face is centimeters from his own. He thinks that maybe someone bumped you and you took a step closer, but maybe that’s just his brain trying to fill in the gaps. He also knows that he’s the one that closes the space between you, leans in and brushes his lips against yours. It’s quick, a little impulsive, and truthfully, it feels a little forbidden. 

He pulls away, not far enough to make it seem like he’s made a mistake, but enough that it gives you an out, if you want it. His brain starts making all these calculations–what he should do if you back away, what he should do if you slap him, what if you don’t react.

But then you whisper, “Why’d you stop?” and your hand slides up his chest to grip the lapel of his coat. You tug with a surprising amount of force, and when your lips connect, he feels himself soaring. 

His entire world narrows to the points where your bodies connect. The firm touch of your knuckles against his shirt, the way your leg presses against his, but mostly the heat from your lips as he deepens the kiss. You fit against him perfectly, as if you were made for each other. He’d only kissed you that one time, but somehow, he’d missed it, missed you. 

When you finally pull away, you stay close, pressed against his chest–though whether that’s fully your choice or because of the crowd tightening around you is anyone’s guess. He can feel your heart pounding, and when you shoot him a small smirk, he’s pretty sure that you can feel the pace of his own pulse. Your grip loosens on the collar of his coat and you smooth it down coolly before your arm wraps around his back. Without a word, you cozy in, pressed close as your gaze returns to the sky and to the stars.

For a moment, he stands there, unmoving, mind empty. But then it’s like he snaps out of a trance, and he snakes an arm around your waist, holding you tightly. His focus shifts to the shooting stars above, catching one just as it streaks across the sky. As he stands there, staring at the heavens and feeling your steady breathing, his mind begins to wander.

12 years, 7 months, and 3 days. He’d spent most of that time wondering what would have happened if he hadn’t left. If, after he’d kissed you at the night market, he’d been satisfied with whatever life had come after that. He’d been so scared back then, of losing control, of his life not being his own. But now, none of that matters.

Now, he’d give up almost anything to stay here, in this moment, in your arms. 

okay so like... what do we think? how are we feeling? I was originally planning on having this be much longer, but I was so stressed out from grad school, I just wanted to get it out now. I'm so excited to hear your thoughts! and let me know if you want to see a part 2 (and if so, what you might want to see in it!!)

#yoongi x reader #min yoongi x reader #bts x reader #yoongi fanfic #yoongi fic #suga fic #suga fanfic #bts fanfic #bts fic #min yoongi fic #min yoongi fanfic #myg x reader #bts soulmate au #bts supernatural au #set me free

[gggukniverse]

basic needs | jjk, myg

title: basic needs

pairing: jungkook x f!reader, yoongi x f!reader

rating/genre: m, smut, roommates au

summary: missing sex while being stuck in your apartment with your two roommates during quarantine is being the worst nightmare you could've imagined. fortunately, you're not the only one who's touch starved.

warnings: sexual tension, getting caught during sex, voyeurism, edging, dirty talk, protected and unprotected sex (pls be safe y'all), creampie, oral (f receiving), multiple orgasms (f receiving), cum eating, finger sucking, hair pulling, praising, begging, reader gets called a whore once, a little yoongi x jungkook 👀.

wordcount: 6k

note: okay... i don't know where this came from like i didn't even know i had all of this in me 🧍🏻‍♀️ i kept gasping at my own writing, i think i got too carried away haha i just hope you like it. also pls keep in mind english is noth my first language !! let's go !

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yoongi has been in his room all afternoon, something about working on a new track, and jungkook is currently taking a shower so you have the living room for yourself, some old sitcom playing on the background but you're paying more attention to your phone. that's until you hear footsteps coming into the living room from the corridor.

"hey, loser." jungkook greets you as he ruffles his damp hair from the shower with his hands.

you hate yourself for pausing to look at his toned body, the fucker walked out of the bathroom shirtless. you blame it on your lack of sex.

"what are you watching?" he doesn't seem to notice or care about you looking at his abs, his eyes narrowed towards the tv while he puts on the shirt he was grabbing.

"i'm not really watching anything... you can play whatever you want." you try to act unbothered when he decides to grab both of your legs and raise them a little to sit on the couch to then let them fall on his lap, letting you stay lying down. his warm hands on your bare legs make you get goosebumps and you pray he doesn't notice.

what the hell is happening to you? get it together, it's just jungkook.

"wanna watch a movie?" jungkook looks at you and starts to run his fingertips through your legs in a soothing way. you're gonna go crazy over how nice it feels after being touch starved for so long.

"sure." you shrug, trying to focus on your twitter timeline and not on his hands caressing your legs.

one of his hands moves away from your legs to grab the remote on the armrest of the couch and soon after he's opening the netflix app on the tv. you turn your head to look at him when you feel his free hand starting to caress your skin again while he looks through the movies catalog. he's not looking at you so you take the opportunity to really look at his hand.

the inked hand looks strangely nice against your pale skin. his hands are actually really nice, they're big too, you wonder how they would feel–

"anything in mind?" his voice thanfully brings you back to reality and you panic, quickly looking up at his face. he's still not looking at you.

it's impossible he knows you were staring at him, right?

"what?" you mutter with wide eyes and he finally throws you a quick glance before looking back at the tv.

"any movie you'd like to watch?"

oh.

"uh... i don't really have any in mind, you can play what you want."

"sure there's not any cheesy romantic movie you want to watch?" he's teasing you now. it's not the first time he's complained about you always watching romantic movies.

"shut up, i know you like them too," and he does. you've caught him tearing up that time you watched the notebook together. "just play something already."

"i don't know what to play, though." he keeps scrolling through all of the movies.

"okay. keep scrolling and close your eyes, stop whenever you want to and open your eyes. we'll watch that." you propose and he narrows his eyes as if he's thinking about it but ends up nodding. "close your eyes then."

you see him closing his eyes and hear the sound of the scrolling on the tv so you keep staring at him in case he cheats.

"that one." jungkook stops and opens his eyes just at the same time you turn to the tv.

"i don't know that one." you mutter after reading the title.

"a romantic one, you won." he teases again while he silently reads the synopsis and you sigh, rolling your eyes back.

"c'mon, play it."

you're pleased when the movie turns out to be kinda good. it's just another really cliché romantic story but you love movies like that. jungkook is enjoying it too even though he tries to act it out. you smile each time he makes a comment about the movie, he can never shut up when watching something.

"stuff like that doesn't happen in real life." he says and you let out a chuckle.

"it's a movie, kook." tou reply and try not to think about his hands still caressing your legs. it's been like that during all the movie, maybe he hasn't even noticed he's still doing it.

it's nothing new that jungkook is a really touchy person, he's always been touchy with you and even with yoongi, he likes to cuddle, likes to touch your hair. but this time it feels so different because of the lack of touch you've been having. it is so embarrassing to admit how nice his hands feel on you.

never in two years living with him would you have imagined jungkook could be quiet during a movie until a sex scene comes up. he suddenly goes quiet. his hand stops moving.

it's awkward. it's always awkward to watch a sex scene with someone else. if you were watching the movie with your best friend it would be totally different, but this is jungkook, your roommate, your roommate you don't have any type of relationship outside this apartment.

you feel tense, your whole body feels tense, and you pray that he doesn't notice. but you flinch when his hand squeezes your thigh a little too hard.

"oh shit, sorry." he apologizes quickly with a chuckle that seems way too forced.

good, you're both tense and awkward.

"don't worry." you reply just as quickly and he nods before turning back to the tv. he looks so focused on the movie, like he's holding his breath. you only realize you've been staring when he looks back at you.

"you okay?" jungkook is looking at you with a soft smile but also with something in his eyes you've never really seen on him.

"y-yeah," you wanna punch yourself in the face for stuttering but manage to move your legs off his lap to stand up from the couch. "i need something to drink, you keep watching the movie." your bare feet are already guiding you to the kitchen when you hear him humming.

maybe you end up spending too much time in the kitchen. you chug down a glass of water as soon as you get there but when you're finished you leave the glass on the sink and then you lean back on the isle, taking a deep breath and trying to calm down.

you hate how you can still feel jungkook's touch on your legs, how he looked so immersed in the movie, how you can't stop thinking about him squeezing a little too hard when the girl in the movie let out a loud moan, how his gaze was so dark when he looked at you, how you needed to feel his hands on you again.

god, you really need to have sex.

the door creaking open makes you snap out of your thoughts and look up. you quickly straighten up and clear your throat. jungkook is right there by the door looking at you.

"hey," he says nonchalantly and walks to the fridge. "you okay?" his voice is quiet as he grabs the bottle of orange juice.

"yeah! perfectly fine." you nod while he takes a sip of the juice.

he hums and closes the bottle. "you were taking too long, you're gonna miss the rest of the movie."

"yeah, i-"

"i'm not dumb, y/n. you can say you were uncomfortable because of the movie." he chuckles and you feel so stupid.

"no! i wasn't uncomfortable.. it's just- i-" you struggle to find the words and just feel even more stupid

"what is it?" he arches an eyebrow and walks to stand next to you, leaning back against the kitchen isle too.

"i just... fuck, i need to have sex." you snap and run your hands through your hair in frustration. "i'm gonna go crazy if i have to stay inside this house one more fucking day. i haven't had sex in three months."

"we've been quarantined for a month." jungkook points out looking at you with narrowed eyes like he's about to say something else.

"i know, shut up." you stop him before he dares to tease you for it.

"i get it." he says after a few seconds in silence and now you're the one frowning and looking at him.

"huh?"

"i need to have sex too."

oh.

"i get your frustration, sometimes i feel like i'm gonna go crazy too." he looks forward, avoiding your stare.

"oh yeah, i'm sure you're not used to not having a girl bouncing on your dick every single night." the comment was meant to tease him but you just end up feeling your heart start beating too fast at the thought of bouncing on a dick too.

you place your hands on the isle right behind your back and jump a little to sit on top of it, hissing a little because of the cold surface on your exposed thighs.

"hey, it wasn't like that before quarantine!" jungkook whines and pouts like a child and it causes a chuckle to escape your lips. "i wish, though."

"you're gross."

"as if you didn't want to bounce on a dick every single night." he looks at you with an arched eyebrow and a little smirk.

a weird feeling between your legs makes you close them instantly and you swear you can see jungkook looking down really quick before turning and walking back to the fridge to leave the juice bottle back in. when he turns around again you have to fight back a gasp at the sight of the tent he has on his sweatpants. jungkook is hard.

it's embarrasing how bad you need some dick now, it really is, but you look down and close your legs even tighter.

"i should... go to sleep, it's kinda late." you mutter and as soon as you're gonna hop off the counter there's a hand right next to your thigh on the counter.

"wait." jungkook says and you have to look up, he's standing right in front of you.

"yeah?" your voice is just as quiet as before.

"did you get worked up watching the movie?" he asks with a little knowing smile and you want to die from embarrassment.

"no!" you lie, pushing him back a little. "i didn't." you shake your head but he only chuckles, your head is lowering down again.

"it's okay, y/n." his hand brushes against your exposed thigh from where it's placed on the counter and you shiver.

"i didn't." you insist even though you know you're being so fucking obvious.

"open your legs."

a whine escapes your lips at the simple words and you're so embarrassed you wanna die, your face feels so hot.

"jungkook..." you don't want to look up at him but he just moves even closer.

"i know," he coos like he's sorry for you. and it is hot. "it's been so long since someone has talked to you like this, right?"

you just hum in response and shiver again when he pushes one of your strands of hair behind your ear.

"you need someone to take care of you, right?" he purrs, his lips softly brushing against your ear.

"fuck." you sigh and finally look up. "jungkook."

"you need it just as much as me." he says looking right into your eyes. "if you let me..."

"please."

you can't even think straight anymore.

"please, what?"

you don't answer, just spread your legs. he closes his eyes and exhales through his nose.

"y/n."

"please, touch me." you don't think you've ever heard your voice come out so whiny but jungkook seems to like it because he's immediately taking the last step forward he can take and gets between your thighs, placing his hands on your thighs.

"say that again." he says, looking down at your lips.

"touch me." you don't even think about it, because that would probably fuck everything up. it's better this way.

jungkook looks down between your bodies and one of his hands goes up your thigh until it reaches the fabric of your shorts, then it goes up to the elastic waistband. you keep your eyes on his face while he slips his hand under your shorts and finds the wet patch in your panties with his fingers. the groan that leaves his lips when he gets to feel how wet you are is louder than the moan you let out at the same time.

"holy fuck, you're so wet." his fingers start moving slowly against your clothed folds.

"fuck, kook." you sigh and move your hips even closer to him, trying to chase the feeling of his fingers on you.

"mhh... i know," jungkook coos again and you know you're gonna go crazy if he keeps taking to you like that. "feels good, right?" he hums and you're about to respond when he pushes your panties to the side and really touches you.

"fuck." you throw your head back as he runs his fingers through your wet folds.

"god, you're dripping. making a mess down here." jungkook groans and looks up at you. you must be a blushing mess already, your cheeks are burning and you literally feel lightheaded even if you haven't even done anything yet. "please, let me kiss you." he almost begs and you suddenly feel like you're gonna melt right on that counter.

before he can ask again you're throwing your arms around his neck and pulling him into a desperate kiss. you don't know if you're really fucking turned on or if he's just a really good kisser but you melt into the kiss. jungkook swallows the moans that escape your lips when he slips a finger inside so easily and starts fucking you with it.

"kook..." you moan against his lips. it feels so good to be touched again that your legs are already shaking.

"pretty." jungkook says and starts moving down, leaving a couple kisses on your jaw before kissing and sucking on your neck.

"jungkook- fuck." you sigh, tugging at his hair desperately. "seriously, it's been... it's been so long."

"i know." jungkook hums against your neck and sucks a mark on it as he adds another finger inside you.

"feels so good." you moan and a little squeak slips out of your mouth when he curls his fingers inside of you and finds that sweet spot. "it's so... fuck, it's so soon but i'm gonna cum, kook." you don't even have the mind to be embarrassed about it. it feels too good.

but jungkook suddenly stops kissing your neck and pulls back completely, his hand moving away from inside your pants. the complain about to slip out of your mouth dies in your throat when you see him sucking on his fingers and groaning.

"fuck, so sweet."

you're gonna go crazy.

"your feet on the ground, and turn around." he orders and you're so desperate you obey right away, jumping from the counter and turning around to give him your back. "you need to tell me if you really want this because it's gonna be easier to just stop now." one of his hands finds your waist and he pulls you against his body, you moan at the feeling of his clothed hard dick against your ass.

"yes, fuck, yes please." you breathe out and feel his hands on the waistband of your shorts, pulling them down immediately along with your panties. "wait, wait."

"mh?"

"yoongi, he's home." you mentally applaud your brain for being rational enough to remember you're not alone in the house.

"he doesn't leave his room for hours, don't worry about." he shrugs and you can see him pulling his sweatpants down.

"but- ah!" you whine when he pushes one of your feet further to the side so your legs spread a little more. "jungkook..." you want to insist on the fact that you're not alone but his fingers find your pussy again.

"you're fucking dripping." he sighs and easily slips two fingers inside, making you put your hand on your mouth not to be loud. "fuck, so tight."

you can't help but bend down on the counter, pushing your ass towards him to chase his fingers. jungkook straight up moans at the sight.

"please, need you inside." you whimper when he adds a third finger and starts fucking you with them at a pace that drives you crazy.

"what was that?" he asks and moves even faster. the fucker is teasing you.

"kook, need you to fuck me."

he doesn't seem to think about it twice before he reaches for one of the kitchen drawers where a box of condoms is hidden and takes one out. you can notice he's trying to hold himself back and take his time with you but he's just as eager as you, so he can't slow down now.

"you sure about this, right?" he asks. you're looking at him over your shoulder as he rolls the condom down his cock.

"i'm fucking dripping, kook. of course i'm sure." you're starting to get anxious, you wiggle your ass just to let him know you're ready for him.

a little sigh leaves your mouth when jungkook rubs his tip against your folds, just when you think he's about to slip inside he just rubs it again.

"fucking tease." you mutter with your cheek pressed against the cold surface of the counter. "just fuck m- oh!" you can't help the moan that leaves your mouth when he slips inside all the way.

"shit, so tight." jungkook hisses behind you and you whine, your walls clenching so hard around him. his hands grip on your hips so hard you're sure it's gonna leave a mark.

"it's been.. too long- fuck." you remind him as he pulls back a little just to thrust inside again.

"yeah, me too, i'm not gonna last." He warns and you almost giggle because at least you're both equally desperate.

"i don't care, just make me cum." you beg through a moan when he thrusts inside again.

"come here." one of his arms wraps around your waist and straightens you up so your back is arched against his chest, keeping you in place. you're both still wearing your shirts and your pants and underwear are just pooling by your ankles, so horny you didn't even waste time to get undressed.

"holy fuck!" you gasp when his thrusts hit a different way in the new angle and soon after, jungkook's hand is over your mouth.

"want every fucking neighbor to hear you?" he whispers against your ear and you feel your walls clenching around him again. "fuck, y/n, keep doing that and i'll cum in two seconds." his hand drops from your mouth to your neck, wrapping his fingers around it but not adding any pressure, just keeping you in place.

"so big." you whimper helplessly, your hands still flat on the counter because you feel like your legs could betray you right now. "you feel so fucking good."

you feel his hand closing a little around your neck and your eyes roll back at the feeling, he starts fucking you even faster. there are drops of sweat rolling down your forehead already but you don't care, not when you're finally having a cock inside of you. and god, he's fucking you good, so good that you don't feel embarrassed at how close you feel already.

"feels good?" jungkook hums and you can only whine in response. "fuck, your pussy is swallowing my cock, y/n, doesn't want me to leave." he groans and his thrusts are so hard that you're starting to see white dots. "you're so good, y/n."

"f-fuck... please, need... need to cum." you must sound pathetic right now but you can't bring yourself to care. "touch me, kook, make me cum."

his free hand is moving quickly, finding your clit again and rubbing fast circles that almost make you start crying.

"gonna cum, baby?" you feel his lips brushing against your ear as he whispers. the pet name makes you clench even harder around him. "wanna cum on my cock?" he sounds so gone too, you know he's close too. if you knew he was gonna fuck you this good you would've actually taken your time with him, but you let it pass for now because you're both needy and just need to get off.

"yeah." you unconsciously let out the most pornographic moan you've ever heard from yourself and jungkook start giving sloppy thrusts, you're both so close. "kook, i'm gonna cum." you manage to let out and right after your mouth can't even make sounds anymore.

"fuck, y/n."

you're so close. you're gonne cum. so fucking close.

but the door creaks open and you both freeze, not being able to contain your moans at the feeling of jungkook bottoming out once again.

"yoongi!" you scream at the boy standing by the door at the same time as jungkook screams 'hyung!'. you try your best to cover yourself by pulling your shirt down. jungkook's hand drops from your neck to rest on your waist.

"oh, don't stop." yoongi shrugs as if he's just caught you chopping vegetables.

"huh?" jungkook mutters behind you and you can feel it about to move away but you reach for his thigh with your hand to keep him there.

"kook, please." you don't know what got into you. you're so desperate to cum you don't even mind yoongi being there in front of you.

"see? she wants you to keep going." yoongi's voice is so calm as he slowly walks towards you, leaning back against the counter, just right next to where you both are.

you look down as your cheeks start burning and you clench around jungkook. why the hell are you getting turned on by being watched by your roommate while getting fucked by your other roommate?

"fuck, y/n." you know jungkook is hissing because you got impossibly tight around him and you can hear Yoongi's little chuckle. "you're just gonna stand there?" the younger asks his friend.

"i don't think she minds." yoongi replies and you can almost see the smug smile on his face even if you're staring at the counter.

"y/n?" jungkook mutters behind you but you don't answer. you're so close, so embarrassed and so turned on that you're scared your voice will come out in a pathetic whine.

"y/n," yoongi's deeper voice calls for you too but you don't reply either. "look at me, y/n," he speaks again and you bite your lip not to let out another moan because you're sure you're currently creaming jungkook's cock. "pull her hair so she looks at me, jungkook."

your breath hitches then the youngest does just as yoongi says and a moan finally escapes your throat as he tugs at your hair and brings your head up, turning it a little to the side so you can face the boy beside you. he's handling you as if you were a doll. and the second you lock eyes with yoongi you feel numb. his eyes are so dark, you've never really seen him looking at you like that. a little smirk grows on his face as he looks all over your face. you probably look a mess.

"do you want me to stay?" he asks with an unusual soft voice that makes your legs shake.

"hyung." jungkook says with a warning tone, his cock throbbing inside you. he needs to cum too.

"shut up," yoongi gives jungkook a quick look and turns to you again. "y/n?" the words don't even leave your mouth, you can't speak. "what? jungkookie was fucking you so good you can't even talk?" he speaks with a condescending tone, like he's sorry for you. you close your eyes as you clench around jungkook again.

"fuck, y/n." jungkook's free hand squeezes the flesh on your hip.

"keep fucking her, kook," yoongi finally says. "let's see if you can make her talk again."

jungkook doesn't need to be told twice because he lets go of your hair and starts moving again without even questioning him. your head stays in place for yoongi to see you but your eyes are still closed. you must be going crazy because you don't think you've ever felt this good during sex and it is just a quick fuck in the kitchen with your roommate while your other roommate looks at you.

after a specific thrust that hits just where you need it you arch your back until your head falls on jungkook's shoulder, you throw one of your arms behind you so you can reach jungkook's hair and keep him close. your fingers tangle with the soft locks while he fucks you at a brutal pace.

"right there, kook..." you moan.

"like that?" he whines, fucking whines, against your ear as he keeps thrusting against that sweet spot inside you and you nod frantically. one of his hands stays on the counter right next to yours and the other sneaks under your shirt and finally cups over one of your boobs, a groan hits your ear.

"s-sensitive.." you warn him but he squeezes your boob anyway. you cry out. you're so close again, so fucking close.

"stop." yoongi says and jungkook halts his movements immediately as if he was under his spell.

"fuck, yoongi." you choke on a moan. when you open your eyes you can see yoongi looking down at where your bodies meet, then he looks at jungkook.

"jungkook," yoongi says and jungkook hums in response. "you got tested when i did, you're clean." he tells him and then he looks at you. "are you clean? and on the pill?"

"yeah," you nod. "yes to both." you suddenly feel shy again. they both sigh at your answer and you gulp, watching yoongi turning to jungkook with an arched eyebrow.

"then why are you wearing a condom?" yoongi asks. and he's not wrong. you usually didn't risk it, you always use to have protected sex, but now that you see it like this you wonder why you didn't ask jungkook if he was clean from the start.

"hyung... i don't know if she-" jungkook mutters like he's not sure but you can clearly feel his cock twitching inside you.

"do you want him to wear the condom?" yoongi asks you, his voice still calm and his look unbothered.

"y/n, you don't have t-"

"take it off." you cut Jungkook off and yoongi smiles. you feel so nice after seeing his reaction that you wonder if you're doing this just to make him feel proud. it feels good.

"pull out, kookie," yoongi says and walks towards him, you turn your head to look back at them. jungkook obeys quickly, your walls squeezing him like you want to keep him inside. "good," yours and jungkook's breaths hitch when yoongi himself takes the condom off of his cock and goes to throw it on the trash. "you leaked a lot, damn." he say through a breathy chuckle when he comes back and decides to stand right behind jungkook.

"hyung."

"she must feel good, right?" yoongi is suddenly resting his chin on his shoulder and looking down. your eyes follow yoongi's and then roll back when you see yoongi's hand wrapping around jungkook's cock and slowly stroking him to spread the precum on his tip all over his length.

"fuck, hyung." the boy moans and your pussy throbs.

god, this is so fucking hot you could cum if they kept that going for a little longer. but yoongi drops his sticky hand and looks at you tilting his head and lightly raising his eyebrows.

"open your mouth." he says and you don't question him, just open your mouth and welcome two of his fingers inside.

you moan around them as you suck and swallow jungkook's taste off them while yoongi stares at your lips, his tongue licking the corner of his lips.

"clean my hand." his fingers drop from your mouth and you stick your tongue out, one of your hands wrapping around his wrist while you run your tongue all over his palm and fingers, cleaning jungkook off of him.

they're both looking at you like they want to eat you up and you feel so powerful yet you can feel your arousal dripping down your thighs by this point. yoongi drops his hand when you've cleaned it completely and then looks at jungkook.

"c'mon, kookie, fuck her now." he says really close to jungkook's ear and the younger obeys instantly, slipping inside you and groaning at the feeling. "good boy." yoongi chuckles as jungkook bottoms out.

"so good." you moan, already feeling the clear difference in having him inside with nothing in between. a whimper is forced out of your mouth when jungkook starts thrusting into you again.

"that feels good, right?" yoongi asks and moves to stand beside you again, to watch it all happen.

"mhm..." you moan. "please... jungkook- please."

"so pretty when you beg." yoongi puts his fingers under your chin to make you look at him. "such a pretty whore."

"oh my god!" your eyes roll back. you feel yourself just a second away from coming. "gonna cum... fuck..."

"yeah, i can fucking feel you." jungkook breathes out. "fuck." his thrusts become sloppy real fast. he's close too.

"jungkook..." you completely bend over the counter again because your arms can't support your weight anymore, your cheek gets smushed against the cold surface. "i'm- shit... i'm coming." you whimper.

"then cum." yoongi's voice is all you need to get there. a shocking wave of pleasure runs through your whole body while you clench hard around him.

"shit, so tight." jungkook mutters behind you and one of your weak arms reaches behind to grab at his thigh. "so close, y/n."

"please." your whole body is shaking with oversensitivity.

"want me to pull out?" jungkook asks.

"no... please," you beg. "come inside, baby." you cry out.

"c'mon jungkook, cum." yoongi says and that seems like enough for jungkook too, because you feel his throbbing cock releasing inside of you.

"fuck," jungkook mumbles. "y/n, come here." his hands are on your waist again.

"i can't." you let out a weak chuckle but jungkook is suddenly wrapping his arms around you and pulling you up.

"need to kiss you." he says and you immediately turn your head to find his lips. you kiss him slow, nothing like the kisses you shared before, and it feels good to kiss jungkook like that.

he's the one that breaks the kiss and when you try to chase his lips again he just chuckles and gives your hip a soft slap.

"kiss yoongi too." he whispers just at the same time as you feel a hand wrapping around your neck.

yoongi's lips are on yours as soon as you turn around. you hum through the kiss and bring one of your hands up to his cheek, tilting his head a little to deepen the kiss. he swallows your moan when jungkook's cock finally slips out of you and you feel his cum spilling out. yoongi breaks the kiss when jungkook mumbles something you can't really hear.

"shit..." you close your legs when you feel jungkook's cum spilling out and dripping down your thigh. "it's so messy."

"not for long," yoongi suddenly grabs you and brings you to the fridge, making you lean back against it as he drops to his knees in front of you. you stop breathing for a second. "i'm gonna clean you up."

"hyung," jungkook calls him as he puts on his sweatpants again. "you're gonna-"

"do you think this is my first time tasting cum?" yoongi throws him a quick glance and you swear you see jungkook blushing for a moment.

yoongi turns to you again and grabs one of your thighs, throwing it over his shoulder and diving in with no warning.

"yoongi, fuck!" you throw your head back as one of your hands goes to his hair. he hums against your pussy and laps at your entrance, from where jungkook's cum keeps spilling out.

"that's so fucking hot." jungkook sighs but you can't open your eyes to look at him, you keep them closed.

"yoongi, you're gonna- gonna make me cum again." you mumble, your only leg supporting you starting to shake but yoongi keeps you steady with one hand on your waist and the other on your thigh over his shoulder. and the warning that you're gonna cum only makes yoongi push you further to the edge, sucking on your clit and basically burying his face on your pussy like he's starving for you. "yoongi, oh my- fuck, oh my god!"

you don't know what to do with your hands anymore, one of them stays on his hair while the other ends on your mouth to try and stop the pathetic noises from coming out. though one hand is suddenly grabbing that arm and pulling it down.

it's yoongi. he detaches his mouth from you to say, "i wanna hear you." and suddenly slips two fingers inside you.

"sensitive..." you mumble, your legs shaking again and threatening to close even if yoongi's head is between them.

"gotta clean you well," yoongi says. "jungkookie had a big load for you, huh?" he chuckles again.

you've never heard something so hot in your entire life. jungkook must think the same because he groans somewhere in the kitchen, you don't see him because you're too busy holding yoongi's eye contact.

"you like me cleaning jungkookie off your pussy?" yoongi asks you and gives your clit another little lick as he fucks the cum out of you with his fingers. "dirty girl."

"please, yoongi."

"love hearing you say that." he smirks as he pulls his fingers out of you and brings them to his mouth, cleaning them with his tongue.

"hyung, jesus fucking christ." jungkook sighs while yoongi goes back to eating you out like he's wanted it for months.

"i'm gonna cum, yoongi- ah!" you throw your head back against the fridge again when yoongi sucks on your clit and starts fucking you with his fingers again. "oh, right there!" his fingers keep brushing against that sweet spot and you're sure you're gonna cum soon.

it doesn't take long for you to cum on his mouth and fingers, yoongi gives your pussy one last kiss before placing another one on your thigh still on his shoulder and finally puts it down.

"you're okay?" yoongi asks you as he stands up and cups your face with his hands to check on you.

"yeah," you nod. "just a little dizzy."

"i'm sure you're tired." he brushes his thumbs on your cheeks affectionately and your eyes close on their own. "i'll go prepare a bath for you, okay?" he says and kisses your forehead.

and holy fuck, you never thought that thing people said about feeling butterflies in your stomach was real but now you can feel them because as soon as yoongi pulls away, you feel another kiss on your cheek from jungkook.

"you were amazing." he tells you and you have half a mind to smile.

"wait," you turn to the door where yoongi is already making his way to the bathroom. "yoongi!" you call out for him and he quickly turns around.

"yeah?" he asks and your eyes go down to his crotch. he's hard. of course he is.

"do you... want help with that?" you ask shyly but he just waves a hand dismissively.

"don't worry about it, you're completely spent, you should rest now." yoongi replies sincerely but then looks to jungkook. "unless you're ready for another round." he cocks an eyebrow.

you look at jungkook and a giggle slips out of your mouth when you see him shocked, his cheeks tomato red. yoongi chuckles too.

"i'm just teasing you," the older says. "i'll go prepare a bath." and he leaves the kitchen.

then you're alone with jungkook again. you grab your clothes from the floor even if you're not really gonna put them on now.

"what was all of that about?" you dare to ask and you know jungkook understands what you mean but you still push further. "yoongi and you...?"

"it was nothing." he quickly replies. you're not dumb, he's getting defensive.

"okay..." you mutter. "calm down, i wasn't judging."

"i know," jungkook says and oh he looks troubled. "it was just nothing."

"okay," you nod and give him a reassuring smile because he looks more tense now than before. "just... if you've got some thoughts you need to let out... i'm here, or whatever..." you try not to make things real serious but you just don't want to see jungkook like this.

"i'm okay." he replies.

"mh, good." you end up putting just your shorts on again because it might be a little weird to have this conversation while being half naked.

"by the way, that was short but it was amazing." jungkook says out of nowhere and you giggle, slapping his arm.

"yeah, you were not bad either." you say and squeeze his bicep twice before walking out of the kitchen.

and when you're left alone in the corridor everything you just did hits you like a truck.

what the hell have you done?

–

–

–

A/N: hope you enjoyed it !! i'm not 100% satisfied with this one, i know i could've done a lot better but yeah :) thank u for reading ! have a nice day <3

#bts imagines #bts x reader #bts reactions #bts fanfic #jungkook fic #jungkook fanfic #jungkook imagine #jungkook reaction #yoongi fic #yoongi fanfic #yoongi imagine #yoongi reaction #jungkook x reader #yoongi x reader #suga fanfic #suga fic #suga imagine #suga reaction #bts smut #jungkook smut #yoongi smut #suga smut #gggukniverse #bangtan x reader #bangtan reactions #bangtan fic #bangtan fanfic #bangtan imagines

[sunnebeam]

"i was hoping i wouldn't have to resort to this."

A 'PERKS OF BEING A HOUSEHUSBAND' DRABBLE.

pairing: min yoongi x reader

plot: the (mis)adventures of retired gangster min yoongi as he leaves behind the life of the mafia and navigates the way of the househusband.

warnings: the way of the househusband au, marriage au, crack, domesticity, yoongi unintentionally scares people

masterlist + disclaimers.

note: go on tell me d-day!yoongi isn't tatsu I DARE YOU 😤 btw u don't need to watch the way of the househusband before reading this, but i swear u won't regret it if u do lol it's so funny (and it gives great visuals for this fic!). anyways, enjoy!! i'd love to hear ur thoughts so drop by my askbox and let's chat :)

Water drips down his neck as he washes his face. Droplets fall down his tattooed back, tracing the meticulous lines and bold colors that contrast his pale skin.

After rinsing and drying off, he dons on his outfit for the day – a fitted, white, short-sleeved shirt that shows off the intricate tattoos on both his arms and some black sweatpants – and puts on his signature apron – a beige, cotton apron with a drawing of his brown poodle on the front. Said poodle is staring at him from the bathroom door as he takes one last look at the mirror.

An old, bumpy scar runs down his right eye.

"Perfect," he says to himself before heading to the kitchen with his dog following right behind.

Min Yoongi never used to wake up this early. But these days, he wakes up bright and early at six o'clock because he has an important assignment.

"What do you think, Holly? Too big?"

The poodle barks in response, and taking its opinion into consideration, Yoongi adjusts his gimbap slices accordingly, making them a tad bit smaller and just the perfect size for your lunchbox.

"Shit!"

The door to your shared bedroom opens and you run out, already dressed in your corporate attire. You run to the kitchen where your husband is and get a huge glass of water.

"I'm late!" you screech, all while gulping down the whole glass.

"But you still have a few hours," he points out in confusion.

"I forgot I have an early meeting!" you explain in a hurry, putting on your heels before giving your husband a big smooch on the lips and blowing Holly a kiss. "Sorry, Yoonie! I'll see you later!"

And you're out the door.

Yoongi blinks for a few moments before shaking his head. He's chuckling in amusement at your mishap, but if any outsider hears his laughter, it just sounds a bit manic.

"Well, looks like it's just you and me, Holly."

Holly barks.

"Huh? What was that?"

Holly barks.

Yoongi stares at the poodle, then at your Hello Kitty lunchbox he meticulously prepared, then back at the poodle.

"She forgot her lunchbox?"

Holly barks.

"Fuck."

Yoongi snaps into action, securing the lunchbox and putting it inside a Hello Kitty cloth bag before running out the door with his cute apron still on. He mounts his bicycle and speeds towards your office – which, if he was driving a car, would have broken numerous traffic regulations but luckily he isn't a stranger to breaking a law or two.

He's almost to your office. He's halfway there.

But unfortunately, there's a bit of a situation.

"What's your occupation, sir?"

The two police officers stare at him hesitantly after flagging him down for pedalling too fast with his bicycle. They're debating on giving him a ticket but then Yoongi answers.

"Househusband."

They stare at him.

"What?"

Yoongi sighs. At this rate, he won't be able to catch you before you clock in.

"Wait a second," one of the officers says, eyeing the tattoos peeking out from Yoongi's shirt and the big scar on his eye. "Are you..."

They stare at the name on the ticket. Min Yoongi.

"...Agust D?"

No way, the other officer thinks. There's a rumor about an infamous gangster called Agust D who used to slaughter his enemies with his own two hands. This guy can't be him. Right? Right?!

They hold a breath when Yoongi reaches into his pocket.

"I was hoping I wouldn't have to resort to this," he murmurs.

"Wait, sir. There's no need for violence—"

"Here," Yoongi shuts them up by thrusting one of his most precious possessions.

A gift card for discounts at the local grocery store.

The police officers stare at the gift card, bewildered.

"As much as it pains me to let go of this," Yoongi continues, "take it. Now, I have to go."

And he pedals away, leaving behind one gift card and two very confused cops.

COPYRIGHT 2023. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.

#bts x reader #bts fic #min yoongi x reader #suga x reader #bts suga x reader #yoongi x reader #agust d x reader #bts imagines #min yoongi fic #min yoongi imagines #bts suga fic #yoongi fic #suga fic #bts suga imagines #yoongi imagines #suga imagines #agust d fic #agust d imagines #min yoongi x you #yoongi x you #bts suga x you #suga x you #agust d x you #cat.writes

[sailoryooons]

Angel | myg (m)

☾ Pairing: Mafia!Yoongi x Sex worker! F. reader

☾ Summary: Yoongi never meant to keep coming back. You never meant to become Yoongi’s favorite. Being Min Yoongi’s favorite has dire consequences. 

☾ Word Count: 15,551

☾ Genre: Semi-established relationship, mafia, smut, surprising amount of fluff

☾ Rating: 18+ Minors are strictly prohibited from engaging and reading this content. It contains explicit content and any minors discovered reading or engaging with this work will be blocked immediately. 

☾ Warnings: Sex work and mentions of sex work, Yoongi and the reader are very confident in their relationship but also don’t want to ask for more, uses of the word whore negatively in some parts, vague references to dismemberment in an offhand conversation, intense action sequences, depictions of violence, reader is smacked around and kidnapped, depictions of injuries and pain, two sequences of detailed anxiety attacks, graphic depictions of blood, violent scene in which reader fights for her life and gores someone, depictions of murder/panicking while committing murder? Idk how to describe that one, mentions of nightmares/light reference to PTSD post-murder, explicit language, explicit sexual content including oral (m. and f. receiving) light throat fucking, nipple play, ass play (f. receiving), unprotected vaginal sex, Yoongi… almost doing a strip tease but it’s not as goofy as that it’s more sensual?? Yoongi is a little bit possessive at the end. 

☾ Published: September 3, 2023

☾ A/N: You voted for it, you got it! Introducing the fic that came out on top for the Hali’s Happy Agust Bracket Challenge! Thank you to everyone who voted during the entire month of August, I had such an amazing time seeing everyone yelling and voting and sharing and having fun with it. It means the world to me that you guys have fun and enjoy doing these kinds of things! Here is mafia Yoongi in all of his glory - I did try to keep it tame with the murder/violence/criminal side of it because there are things in this genre I’d like to table in later (most likely on Hali’s After Dark) but I hope that you enjoy this! Somehow it really turned into two people who are just !!! eternally confident in one another, despite their strange trades. Shout out to the hurricane and covid for FAILING TO STOP ME FROM WRITING THIS I’M A GOD (not really I am very tired but I did it osifjdoigj). This is mostly edited.

☾ Disclaimer: All members of BTS are faces and name claims for this story. This is entirely a work of fiction and by no means is meant to be a projection, judgment or representation of real-life people. Any scenarios or representations of the people and places mentioned in works are not representative of real-life scenarios.

Masterlist | Ask | Angel Playlist

Yoongi would rather be anywhere else but the low lit, smoky club. The production team on the dancefloor below uses way too much cryogenic smoke for Yoongi’s taste, fogging the dancing bodies with thick clouds, the lasers reflecting off the smoke in dizzying patterns. From the VIP section, he isn’t choked by the haze, but he is choking on the cloying perfume of the woman in his lap.

She’s pretty enough, one of Kwan’s finest. No doubt trained from a very young age to please her employer’s most prestigious guests. Yoongi doesn’t touch her though, save for letting her sit on his lap, her hand cradling the back of his neck. She leans into his chest, her breath close to his ear as he watches Kwan consider Yoongi’s deal.

Yoongi doesn’t have to make the deal at all. Offering to become a minority owner of the club is a mercy, really. Yoongi could go after the investors who fronted the money when Kwan opened his business in the middle of the entertainment district, and he could wipe out the petty criminals pushing drugs in shadowy alcoves near the bathroom, damaging the cut that Kwan takes from them at the end of each night. 

Yoongi could even go as far as to sow chaos every night, sending in his followers to pick fights with the elite clientele, make it a nightmare for the celebrity clients and cities government officials who use the back rooms for more nefarious matters, exposing the underbelly of La Vie if he felt like it. 

Investments, Hoseok always insists. Investments, not enemies. They already hate that you’re taking a chunk of what they built - especially the seaside property.  Let’s try to play nice and show face. 

Forcing hands is exactly how Yoongi got to this position, sitting in a club and offering Kwan a rather generous deal: Kwan retains eighty percent of ownership, Yoongi becomes a twenty percent owner, the only person allowed to supply the club’s drugs, is paid for security services, and has access to the information funneled through those that work the private client rooms. He could just take it like he always has, and he still has half a mind to do. 

Men like Kwan who think they’re savvy in business and the nuances of the criminal enterprises that run the city make Yoongi’s lip curl. 

“These terms are bullshit, and I don’t have control of the back rooms.” Kwan looks up from the contract, glasses sliding down his nose. He’s a little bit older than Yoongi, and good looking. He has a traditionally handsome face that idols and actors like to get moderated to look like. He looks like new money though, with designer pieces that don’t quite match and a Patek watch that is flashy, but not coveted. “While it is under my jurisdiction, it is a handshake deal with Anya that she runs them the way she wants. They are her clients, not mine.” 

“Then Anya will have a handshake deal with me.” Kwan’s face darkens. Yoongi is tired of this. Is tired of the feeling of the girl’s hand stroking the hair at the base of his neck, is tired of the way she presses up against him, and is tired of Kwan’s dawdling.

“Take the weekend to think about it,” Yoongi insists and stands. The girl falls off him, letting out a surprised sound as she hits the booth. Yoongi adjusts his suit and frowns when he sees there is body glitter on it. He casts a harsh look at the girl who stares up at him with big eyes before turning back to Kwan. “There are no terms for negotiating. Thank you for the drinks and the entertainment. You’ll hear from me.”

Kwan’s face is red like the neon of Yoongi’s favorite motel when he walks out of the booth. Synth and base rattle the metal catwalk that makes up the VIP section, overlooking the dancefloor. Seokjin slides into step with Yoongi as he goes, an imposing shadow as they circumnavigate the walkway. 

It’s loud and raucous when they get to the dance floor. Members of the security team watch Yoongi as he goes, their eyes alert. He pays them little attention, just like the gazes of the people dancing in the ground when they catch sight of him.

Sometimes, Yoongi feels a little bit like a myth in moments like this. Out in public, Yoongi is an astutely dressed man who speaks quietly and says very few words. He wears nice but not gaudy jewelry, and he always styles his long hair slicked back, showing off the faded, red scar over his eye. What Yoongi lacks in height, he makes up for in omnipresent stares and quick reactions.

Everyone in the city knows exactly who Min Yoongi is, and they know that he doesn’t make threats. He simply acts. 

Outside, rain falls from the inky sky. Hoseok leans against the brick wall under the awning, clove-tinged smoke drifting from the cigarette jammed between his lips. When he sees Yoongi, Hoseok pushes off the wall and adjusts his suit jacket. Where Seokjin looks tall, dark and imposing, Hoseok is wiry and sharp, dressed in all white, looking pristine as he raises his eyebrows at Yoongi in question. Yoongi nods towards the idling SUV as an answer. 

They don’t bother with an umbrella. Yoongi ducks his head down as he quickly walks across the pavement and into the car. The interior is moderately cool in the SUV. He takes a seat in the middle, Seokjin sitting alone in the row behind him and Hoseok to his right. 

Outside of the rainy window, the world turns into a smear of wet neon. Checking his watch, Yoongi notes that it’s just past midnight. If he hurries, he can stop by the Red before he goes home for the evening. If he goes home for the evening, at that point. The thought of sinking into sheets that smell like almond and cinnamon ease him. 

“So?” Hoseok flicks through his phone, face lit up blue by the screen. He looks hauntingly beautiful, all edges and sharp lines. “Deal or no deal?”

“Giving him the weekend to think about it.” Hoseok sighs. “He thinks it’s a bad deal for him because it it is, and he’s stuck on the operation Anya runs in the back rooms. He doesn’t want to lose that connection to her. She feeds him information for his extortion of city officials.”

“How else would he have cleared that permit near the docks to build,” Seokjin mutters. Yoongi casts a glance into the back seat where Seokjin sullenly stares out of the window. “Fucker is sticking his nose in a district he has no rights to. At least we had the means to get that operation cancelled.” 

“Yeah, and it’s part of why he doesn’t want to deal with us,” Hoseok says. “Even so, offering the deal is the right move. If he doesn’t take it, crush him like a fucking bug. He’s an intelligent businessman, it’s no surprise that he’s going to try and find a way around you. He might sniff around or try and fuck up some assets.”

“Hobi, you better fucking hope he doesn’t go to that fucker Seo.”

“He doesn’t have the balls. Seo Changbin is unhinged and volatile. He’s more likely to send Kwan to his family in chainsawed pieces.” 

Yoongi grunts, amused. “Bang has kept him under control as of late. Seokjin, have Jungkook look into getting some people in there. I’m not interested in them linking up as permanent partners.” 

A headache presses against Yoongi’s temples. He doesn’t care to debate politics and machinations with Hoseok and Seokjin. He closes his eyes and rests his head against the headrest, letting their discussion fall to a dull sound. 

Yoongi feels like he’s bleeding at the edges, the color of him spilling out of neat lines and all over the pages. His empire is growing faster than he can keep up with, he’s playing politics more than he’s playing the savvy gangster, and the more capital he gains, the more of himself he loses.

When Yoongi had started to climb the ladder of crime and chaos, he didn’t know where it would lead him. An early grave, perhaps. But Yoongi has always been smart and knows how to pick his battles, knows how to innovate. He is not the most inspiring man to lead people in the underbelly of the city, but he does know what he’s talking about and he’s good at guessing what people want most.

People, he’s discovered, all want the same thing, whether they’re at the bottom rung or the top. 

The boy he once was wouldn’t recognize him. The new Yoongi wears designer suits, the carefully curated art collections in the opulent halls of his home, the shaking hands with political figures to help install certain assurances within the city. There are more officials that line Yoongi’s pocket than there are gangs in the city, but it’s a weapon he wields well. 

Old Yoongi might not be so impressed. 

Yoongi feels the phantom ache of the scar on his eye. It doesn’t matter what old Yoongi wants, though. This new version of him is doing whatever he needs to live another day and to install another brick in his kingdom. 

The driver drops Yoongi off at home. Tall gates with security cameras and guard house at the entrance keeps almost everyone away from the Min estate. There’s been a few idiots here or there who have climbed the walls and met the three lovely dobermans that roam the property freely. 

Erebus catches Yoongi’s eyes as he walks to the large garage. The eldest of Yoongi’s canines sits and watches Yoongi approach with keen, dark eyes. He grins at the dog, whistling lowly. Erebus stands and joins Yoongi on his way to the side door, jamming in a code to the garage.

Inside, the automatic lights flip on. Yoongi squints from the harsh lighting, closing the door behind him. Rows of vehicles gleam under the fluorescents. Sports cars, old collectibles, sturdy SUVs. Yoongi has an armada at his disposal, though he so rarely drives himself anywhere these days. Not after Seo put a hit on him a few months ago, the insane fuck. 

Yoongi pulls the tie loose from his neck and begins to change. He presses his finger on a thumb-print lock to a wardrobe and pops it open. Inside are casual clothes: jeans, a t-shirt, a riding jacket, boots and a gleaming black helmet. Nondescript clothes that can belong to anyone. 

Every movement feels heavy. He should go upstairs and swallow down something to help him knockout, but he doesn’t. Instead, he finishes going through the motions and tosses the worn clothes in the wardrobe and walks over to the parked H2R in, all sleek, black metal. 

Erebus sniffs Yoongi’s knee once, a sort of send off. Yoongi bends down and kisses the doberman on the head before shooing him, sending the dog through the garage and up the stairs that lead to the main house. 

Instead of starting the bike in the garage and peeling out the front of the home, Yoongi pops the kickstand up and walks it out of the side door, careful not to bang the tailpipe on the door or scrape the shiny black paint. Once outside, he walks it through the entire yard, arms aching a little as he keeps the bike balanced. 

Gravel crunches beneath his boots and the tires of the motorcycle. Crickets chirp in the yard until he makes it to the back gate in his home that opens up to a government only street. Being back-to-back with the minister has its perks, like an extra security measure that he doesn’t have to monitor constantly. 

Swinging his leg over the bike, Yoongi slides the helmet on, turns the key, and presses the on switch. It roars to life, vibrating underneath him. He revs it a few times before he pulls back on the throttle and shoots down the street like a bullet from a gun.

Iron gates, walls and security houses blur past him. He lives among the gods of the city, high up over the glittering lights and those who pay pilgrimage to the political, criminal and tech giants who loom over them. Yoongi was one of them not that long ago, rising faster than he could have thought possible.

Still, he descends often. Nightly, even. Like even the most powerful gods, Yoongi’s weakness is a vice he can’t - doesn’t want to - rid himself from. While he doesn’t think of himself as impervious, Yoongi doesn’t have many weaknesses. 

His biggest one, though, spends most days at the Red with a private suite in the luxury pleasure house disguised as a motel. 

Yoongi parks his bike in a secured garage that he has a paid spot in. The payment for it is discrete and in all cash, one of Yoongi’s several attempts at covering his tracks when he visits.

The garage is still a few blocks away from the Red. He tucks his hands into his pocket, enjoying the balmy evening, rain still clinging to the air though not falling now. This late at night, there aren’t many people out. Cars drive by, tires hissing on the wet road. Neon lights burn above fluorescent-lit windows of small food shops. 

At the end of a dead end street, a red motel sign buzzes against the night sky. The non-descript brick building doesn’t look like much, but Yoongi knows better than most. Instead of approaching the front door, he leans against the wall a few shops down, tucked underneath the shadow of an awning. 

Pulling his phone out, he dials and brings it up to his ear. As the phone rings, he looks up at the four-story building. There are windows with dark curtains pulled shut and never opened. Yoongi knows that the glass looks ordinary, but is bullet proof grade to protect the most private of clients. 

It doesn’t look like much. The brick is old, it’s bracketed by a laundromat and a hardware store, and across the street is a noodle shop and boarded up general store. 

“It’s late,” you answer, voice scratchy. Yoongi nearly shivers at the sound of your voice, eyes fluttering shut as he breathes in the rain-tinged night. “What’s a girl to do when a boy calls her this late, hmm?”

“Let said boy upstairs and out of the rain.”

“Hmm.” You don’t say yes, but Yoongi can hear the rustle of sheets and the soft creak of the bed when you get up. He waits in silence, though he imagines you’re walking across the bedroom to head to the main part of the state room. “It’s not even raining anymore, I bet.”

“It is. I’m soaked to the bone. Freezing. I might catch a cold.”

“Whatever shall we do?”

He grins, ducking his head. He can feel the warmth climb up his neck to his face, shaking his head. Only you can get him like this, heart skipping like he’s in grade school making out with someone behind the bleachers for the first time. 

“Come on,” you tease on the other line. “Your door will be open.”

“Thanks, Angel.”

“Mhmm.”

His door isn’t really his. But it is a private access door in the back of the alley that requires a keycard and has an armed guard sitting in a security room next to the entry way on the inside. Yoongi hangs up the phone and heads to the special door, avoiding the puddles dripping from fire escapes. 

Just as Yoongi reaches the heavy door, he hears the beep of the auto-lock and it swings open with you leaning on the frame. He wants to eat you whole. You’re not in work clothes, meaning you either wrapped up a while ago or didn’t work tonight. He doesn’t want to know so he doesn’t ask, instead walking up to you as you step to the side and let him in. 

Glowing light flickers underneath the security door to the left. You close the door behind you and pass him, letting your fingers grab his hand and link fingers. There are security cameras here, but it’ll look normal, with you pulling him through the halls and to the elevator. Touching is very much permitted here. Encouraged. Required. 

In the elevator, you stand by Yoongi. He leans into you, silent. You squeeze his hand, very small in his, but warm enough to soothe him. You smell faintly almond and cinnamon, making him go wild as he presses a kiss to the top of your head. You giggle, leaning into him fully, arm pressed to arm. 

Perhaps it’s stupid to be so open like this. When Yoongi first started coming here, he was still and awkward, never coming too close, never letting himself be too familiar. Now, the need for you is too strong. He doesn’t care if there’s a camera on him watching him melt into you. He doesn’t care if maybe it shows that this is a little more than money, a little more than just a quick fix.

Yoongi has been coming to you for almost three years. He doesn’t remember when it stopped being about sex, but it hasn’t been that way for a while. At first, he thought it was so silly. Mafia man in love with a woman he pays to have sex with him. Except it wasn’t so silly. You’d long stopped considering him a client and insisting he doesn’t pay you. 

He doesn’t dare. He doesn’t know what money you make from clients. He knows that it has to be good to be at the Red, which specializes in top clientele. He knows it has to be great, even, because you always meet on your terms. In this space. 

He also doesn’t dare to ask you to stop. He doesn’t know how many clients you take, or who. He doesn’t know when, he doesn’t know how often. He knows nothing about your work except that he doesn’t ask you to stop and you don’t ask him if he wants you too. 

It’s an unspoken rule between you. Yoongi is too afraid to ask you to come live with him, and perhaps you’re too afraid to ask him to take you. Whatever the reasons, neither one of you is brave enough to cross the line first. So instead, you dance along it, making whatever this is work. 

Inside the stateroom is clean and smells like expensive candles. The room is luxurious and is exclusively yours. A cut of your earnings go to holding the room, just like the rest of the workers in the other rooms. 

With the door firmly locked behind the two of you, Yoongi heads to the open kitchen and leans against the counter, facing you. You kick off your slippers and turn to face him, half shadowed by the darkness of the hall, half lit by the warm salt lamp in the living room. 

Yoongi drags his eyes up and down your frame. Soft curves, gentle lips, kind eyes. He was gone the first time he saw you, and he’s gone now. Even after all this time. 

“What?” you ask, fingers fidgeting with your t-shirt. He thinks it might be one of his, but he might be imagining it.

“Come here,” he instructs, patting his thigh. 

You grin and approach him. He opens his arms for you and he sighs as you press against him. Your arms wrap around his middle, squeezing him tight. Slotting your head between his shoulder and neck, you hide your face against him, breath warm against his throat. He envelops you in his arms, wrapped around your shoulders and draped down your back. 

Almond fills his senses. He closes his eyes for a second, breathing you in. You don’t say anything, content to sag against him in the low light of the room. This is what he comes here for more than anything. Everything else you offer is secondary. His foremost desire is this - you. 

“Everything okay?” you finally ask, because of course you do.

“Mhmm. Just a long night.”

“You smell like perfume.”

“Hmm?”

“Like peaches.”

He opens his eyes and looks down at you. You crane your head so that you’re peering up at him with one eye, brow arched. His mouth twitches. “Jealous?”

“Maybe.” 

“Interesting.”

“Not particularly.” 

He lowers his arms, letting them drape around your waist. He smacks the round of  your ass a bit, not enough to hurt but enough to make you pout. “We really going to get into the mechanics of this right now?”

Your smile is all he needs to know you’re not serious. At least, not enough to do something about it. “No, but it’s fun to tease you.” 

“Perhaps I should tease you back, then.” 

Hand in hand, you lead him to your room. Yoongi sees the white sheets and grins. White sheets are for him. Grey sheets are for clients, something you’d established in the infancy of whatever this relationship is. He appreciates the little layers of how you make things different for him. You make him feel special - and not the kind that he pays for. 

Falling backward into the bed, you look up at him with those fucking eyes that make him week in the knees. It’s dark in the room but he knows it well, standing at the foot of your bed and reaching down to snatch an ankle and pull you a bit closer. You squeal as he does, making a jolt of joy go through him, grinning. 

“How was your day?” he asks, lifting your foot to rest on his shoulder. He presses an innocent kiss to your ankle and he watches your brows furrow. “What?”

“Are you a foot person?”

“What if I was?”

You shrug a shoulder, watch him trail kisses down your calf. He nips the meat of your leg, an innocent bite but one that makes your leg twitch. “I’d say I’m surprised to learn something new about you after three years.”

“Yeah?” Yoongi lowers himself so that he’s on his knees, the carpet pressing into his slacks. The back of your knee fits perfectly over his shoulder, your leg resting along his back. You lean up on your elbows and look down at him, watching him settle between your legs. “Think you know everything about me, huh?”

Yoongi’s hands feel your warm skin. He marvels at the softness of your thighs, stroking his hands back and forth. Looking at you, he raises his brow in question. You’re too distracted by the feeling of his hands. It stirs something in him, and he cruves his fingers, dragging his blunt nails softly against your skin.

“Feels good,” you mumble, half-lidded. “I do know everything about you, Min Yoongi.”

“That so?”

“Yes. I could eat your heart if I wanted to.”

Yoongi’s stomach flips at how right you are, at how much you know it. Your confidence in his feelings never fails to make him feel like he is cut open and laid bare at your feet, waiting for you to step on him. To make him regret that vulnerability. 

You never do. At every turn, you’ve shown him that you won’t take advantage. That you have no desire to use the fact that one of the most powerful men in the city is in the palm of your hand. Power for the taking. You could wield him like a weapon, he thinks, and yet you don’t. All you want from him is for him to speak freely, to kiss you often, and to hold you tightly. 

So he does. 

Yoongi presses kisses up the softness of your thighs. You drop from your elbows to lay flat on your back again, your breath catching. He watches raptly at the rise and fall of your chest as you gasp a little. He knows exactly what you like, reaching for your sleep shorts to pull them off slowly. 

Tonight, he has nowhere else to go. Neither do you, letting him lean further up between your legs to press wet, open-mouthed kisses against your hips. You squirm a little, sensitive in the hip area. He loves it - would die for it - letting his tongue slip between his teeth to lave over your hot skin to soothe stinging flesh where he’s nipped you. 

His hands are familiar with every dimple in your skin and every curve. He traces them as he pulls your shorts down, grabbing the elastic band of your underwear as he does. He throws them on the floor, hands settling on the inside of your knees as he presses you open, dropping his eyes to your wet folds. 

Yoongi groans. You’re always so eager for him. That’s never been an illusion, the way your cunt drips slowly down to the curve of your ass at the most innocent of touches from him. It fuels Yoongi’s ego, knowing he has this effect on you. Knowing he’s the only one who can get you trembling in anticipation just by kissing the inside of your knees. 

He made the mistake only once asking if you ever get off with your other clients. The flash of anger and irritation had never made him ask again, but you at least gave him an answer: no. 

Thinking back on it now, Yoongi doesn’t know why he asked. He doesn’t care who you have before or between. All he cares about is being in the darkness of this room, your scent heady, his head shadowed between your legs. 

Leaning forward, Yoongi drags the flat of his tongue up your cunt slowly. You let out a moan and he hums, closing his eyes. He’s been craving your sweet tang all day, the tip of his tongue lingering just under your clit before he drags around it, missing your bundle of nerves on purpose. You let out a sound but he grins, removing his tongue to return to tracing sloppy kisses on your legs instead. 

Already lightheaded, he grounds himself by sliding his hands along the outside of your thighs, gripping you here and there as he lavishes you with attention. He knows he’s tired, but he at least wants this. Wants to taste you before bed, to have you melt in his mouth, fingers in his hair. He needs it. 

Yoongi doesn’t dip into the drugs that his operation injects into the streets. He doesn’t need to. There’s nothing that makes him forget who and where he is the way you do. Nothing that amounts to feeling your soft skin beneath his palms, smelling the barest hint of sweat beneath your vanilla perfume.

When Yoongi gets a taste of you, it’s an instant high. He feels lost, hands skimming up your thighs to hold your hips to the bed. Your hands seek his, linking your fingers and pressing your joined hands to your hips as he drags his tongue up the inside of your thigh.

This is why he keeps coming back. The intimacy. The reassurance that this is something more than an accident that Yoongi stumbled on a few years ago. That this is more than the roll of bills he will leave on the nightstand tonight, even when you say not to. 

There is nothing else he needs in these stolen moments with you. 

“Yoongi,” you murmur, voice soft. He hums in response. “Please, I’m going to lose my mind.”

“Good,” he shoots back, biting your knee. You twitch and curse at him, making him laugh. Your glossy cunt is a sure sign that you’re not lying, though. Clit swollen, hole clenching. “Fuck, you have such a wet pussy.” 

“Then put your fucking mouth on it, Yoongi.” 

He laughs. “As you wish, Angel.” 

A breathy whine in the shape of Yoongi’s name leaves your mouth when he starts to eat you out properly. He takes his time, eyes closed as he indulges, tongue rolling up and down your slick pussy. You turn liquid in his mouth, your hips canting as he flicks his tongue across your clit. You shiver in his hands and he grins, gently sucking your clit into his mouth. 

“Yeah,” you pant. “Fuck, like that.” 

Alternating between fastening his mouth on your pussy to suck gently and sliding his tongue into your hole, Yoongi goes with what he knows makes you a mess. Holds out his tongue and lets you fuck yourself against his face, your hand coming to grip his long hair. 

The wet slide of you against his face makes him ache in his pants. He ignores it, determined to hold you still as he buries his face in deeper, picking up the firmness and pace of his mouth and tongue. He feels your essence drip down his chin and his neck. Hears the squelch when he thrusts his tongues into your pussy. Can’t get enough of the way your thighs close around his head, muffling the sound of you whining and saying his name.

Yoongi’s scalp stings when you pull his hair. He doesn’t care. He whips his head back and forth between your legs, tongue pressed against your throbbing clit. You’re shaking underneath him and he pushes you further, dipping low to slurp at your pussy bottom to top, not letting an ounce of you spill out. 

“Holy fuck,” you squeak, voice high-pitched as you arch off the bed. He looks up at you, mouth attached. “Your fucking mouth.” 

He grins, and leans into you further, pushes your thighs higher. Your legs bend easily under his weight. His hips are pressed against the foot of the bed now, hips rolling slightly, seeking for friction. His eyes close as he gets the barest bit of friction against his cock, more focused on making you come into his mouth than getting himself off.

When you come, your whole body goes taut. Yoongi holds you tight in his hands, mouth moving against you messily as he licks you through your orgasm. You dissolve in his mouth, making him hum against your heat. You twist in the sheets, body twitching, muscles flexing. He avoids your clit, thrusting his tongue into your entrance until you’re gasping for air, hands pressing against his head to get him to stop.

Yoongi removes his mouth with one, lascivious lick. He sits backwards on his feet, panting as he looks at you melt into the bed. Your limbs are lifeless and tangled in the blankets, your hand over your eyes as you catch your breath. You look fucking beautiful. 

“Come here,” you rasp, voice rough. 

The bed creaks under Yoongi’s weight. He walks over on his knees, drinking you in. Your cum slicks your thighs, shining in the barest shaft of light escaping the bathroom from a nightlight. You turn to face him, face balmy with sweat. You reach up and work the zipper on his pants, making his stomach flip.

“You don’t-”

“Shut up,” you growl, tugging the metal down hard. He smirks as you press your fingers into his hard shaft through the cotton of his briefs. “Wanna feel your cock in my throat. Can you fuck my mouth?” 

“Fuck yeah, Angel.” 

Yoongi nearly falls getting out of his pants. You laugh, the sound so sweet that he feels himself blush. He’s hot all over, coming alive in the darkness of your room as he strokes his cock. You look innocent, splayed on the bed and blinking up at him. 

Precum drips from his dark tip and you open your mouth, tongue catching it. He curses under his breath, entranced by the way your tongue disappears between your lips. You hum, a glint in your eye as you smirk at him. 

“Vixen,” he says, shaking his head.

“Give it to me.”

One day he thinks he’s going to die of loving you. He knows that this is what it is. It’s more than you opening your mouth and sticking out your tongue for him. It’s more than him letting you suckle on the tip of his cock playfully, his eyes fluttering shut and his thigh muscles twitching. 

Yoongi loves you. It is an incredibly simple fact in his over-complicated world. Among all of the shit and the moves and countermoves he deals with every day, coming here to simply be in love with you is a relief. A home. 

A shiver crawls up his back as he slowly inches his cock into your mouth. Your mouth is wet and warm, your tongue rough on the sensitive underside of his shaft. He keeps one hand on the base of his cock and the other on your jaw, keeping your mouth open to make the slide easier. 

Everything fades away again. Yoongi sucks in a sharp breath as you open up for him. When he touches the back of your throat, he’s careful at first. He knows you can take it. You’ve taken so much more from him, gone so much harder. He doesn’t want to go hard tonight though. He feels soft at the edges, your taste lingering in his mouth.

The wet sound of your throat convulsing around him making him stroke faster. He knows you’re okay, breathing heavily through your nose as you gurgle around him, spit and precum slicking his shaft as he pulls in and out, marveling at the way you look at him, eyes watering.

Your eyes fix on him. Yoongi clenches his teeth, trying not to burst in your mouth. It’s hard when you look at him like that, gaze so dark and hungry and fathomless. You’ve never said you love him. You don’t have to. He knows. He knows in the same way he is aware you know he loves you. He knows enough to trust you with him. With everything. 

There’s not a single doubt with you. It is a rare gift to share this open trust with someone, especially in his position. It is an added bonus that you know he loves it when you swallow around his cock as he presses into the back of your throat. The tight heat of your throat constricting around him does him in, and Yoongi comes with a growl.

You take it in stride, gulping. Taking it down. His eyes roll back in his head and he thinks that if he didn’t love you already, this alone would make him fall in love. 

Pulling out his softening cock, he falls backward on the bed. He’s still in the top half of his clothes, but he is exhausted, lashes fluttering. Your hands are delicate as you begin to pull the jacket from his body. He rolls to the side and lets you, lost in the daze of a much needed orgasm. He feels at ease now, more than he has all day. 

“Come on,” you whisper, pressing a kiss to the spot under his ear. “Take a quick shower while I change the sheets, they’re sweaty. And I came on them.”

“I’d sleep in them anyway.”

“Hmm, too bad. Shower.”

“Meh.”

“Yoongi, you smell like a whore.” That makes him crack an eye and look at you. Your gaze is pointed. “And not like me. I don’t like it.”

“Huh. So you are jealous.”

“Get in the shower.” Your mouth twitches as you try to fight a smile. “Or else.” 

-

Getting up before the sun is your favorite thing. Even now, when you’re tired from being woken up in the middle of the night, you make an effort to crawl out of bed to make coffee. Your steps are heavy and you shiver in the freezing air of the kitchen as you open a drawer and pull out a coffee pod. You hold it up close to make sure you’ve got Yoongi’s favorite brand before sticking it in the machine and popping the lid down, punching the button to brew.

Yoongi is a sleeping mound in your bed. Leaning against the counter, you admire him from afar. He’ll be up soon, your body clock tuned to the hours of his operation. It’s been that way for over a year now, your circadian rhythm trained to be the most functional during the hours in which Yoongi is awake. 

When you were younger, you would have hated to admit that. Would have detested the thought of ever adjusting a single part of yourself for a man. Your entire job was to be moldable. To put on whatever face your client needed, to shape yourself into whatever person that you needed to be. 

You have been so many things. A wife. A mistress. A temptress. A lost loved one. And darker things still, sliding on the skin of client’s fantasies over-and-over again until you lost the substance that made up whoever you were for hours at a time. 

Back then, it would take hours and days to regain who you were. It wasn’t until you were more advanced that you were able to separate who you are from who you pretended to be. Now, it’s not necessarily. There is no other, no mask. Just you and Yoongi, the single client you decided was worth being moldable for.

The smell of coffee wakes him up before his alarm. You watch him sit up in bed, eyes not yet open. His hand spreads to where he expects to find you, only to discover open space. He swivels back and forth then, looking for you. Maybe a little panicked.

A pang aches your heart. It is so easy to forget that even after years of getting up before him first, Yoongi will never be trained out of the instinct that something of his has been taken. The day he doesn’t worry is the day he’ll lose everything and you know it.

“I’m over here,” you call gently. He relaxes and pulls himself together before getting out of bed and trudging out of the room.

Yoongi is pretty in the morning. His face is swollen with sleep, making him look so much younger. Like a dumpling, even. His mouth is fixed in a pout as he rubs at his eyes, steps uneven and dark hair sticking up all over the place. He looks at you, eyes glassy. The faded pink scar over his eye is less intimidating in the morning. You grin and open your arms. His reaction is automatic, sliding between them and sinking into your embrace, head thudding to your shoulder. 

“Hi,” you purr, your hands squeezing around his middle. His shirt is soft in your fingers as you play with the hem. He grunts back, not much of a morning person. You don’t mind. Instead, you let him lay his weight on you, unwilling to move even as the coffee finishes brewing. He smells like sage shampoo and something more unique to him. “You okay, sleepyhead?”

“Mhmm.”

“Can’t talk yet?” he shakes his head against you and you laugh. “Come on, coffee.” 

With Yoongi latched on to you, you walk over to the coffee maker. You giggle, elated as he clings to your front, letting you move him backwards. With his butt pressed against the counter and arms wrapped around you, you lean around him to grab the steaming mug and bring it in front of him.

Pouting, he drops his hands from you and takes it. 

Years of mornings and carefully pulling back layers of Yoongi has earned this rare silliness between you. You’re acutely aware of the fact that the sleepy man in front of you, no matter how soft and blushing he is in the mornings, is a murderer. He’s extorted people, has threatened them, sits at the top of drug trade, and has pushed people into political office with dirty money and blood. Your eyes linger on his scar, a memento of his violent youth. 

You don’t care. It doesn’t matter what Yoongi is and is not. All that matters to you is that he is Yoongi and that he is yours. At least, yours in the way it matters. You don’t dare ask him for more than what you have. It is the one thing you’re afraid of, because even though you know that he loves you, that you know he trusts you, asking for more is something you don’t want to do. Too many people want more of him. You just want whatever you can have. 

As he sips his coffee, careful not to let it spill over and burn you while you bury yourself in snuggling him, you close your eyes. A couple of years ago, you didn’t think a life like this was possible. Getting in at the Red was the first step in the right direction. Though still for sex workers, it was an upper level platform in the industry you clawed your way to. 

Both of you are similar in that regard. Yoongi started from nothing. A poor boy who dropped out of school to work a job and help pay rent at his apartment, too uneducated with not enough resources to make a dent in the world. It was the same story for you, though perhaps a little bloody around the edges, a hand that started selling you before you could make the choice yourself. 

At the thought of your mother, you feel your jaw clench. The bite of the memory is only soothed by the knowledge of Yoongi putting her down himself. Perhaps it makes you a monster, but you’ve accepted that long ago you were what the world crafted you to be, and you wouldn’t apologize.

If you were Yoongi’s shield, he was your sword. You protected him from the weight of his atrocities, and he slayed your monsters. 

It’s what drew Yoongi to you in the first place, the unapologetic approach to life. You appreciate it in him too. He doesn’t try to pretend that he is more or less than what he is, and you never try to hide the ugly parts of yourself. 

And here he is anyway, coffee-warm lips pressed against your forehead. It almost makes you ask for more, but you don’t. This is enough for now. 

The room at the Red isn’t where you live, but it’s yours in everything except lease. You long stopped using it for its intended purposes, now pleased to use it as a neutral ground to meet Yoongi and to stay where you know he is safe. His sprawling estate under guard and gun is surely safe enough, but you like having Yoongi where you can see him. 

After a mostly innocent shower together, Yoongi gets dressed and kisses you goodbye after you walk him down. It’s still dark outside when you swipe your security key. He puts on his biker helmet and gives you a little salute before jogging down the alleyway, splashing into the morning and vanishing around a corner. 

You linger for a moment, watching the empty space where he vanished. It would be nicer to be somewhere you didn’t have to escort him out. Somewhere you could be together all the time. You don’t think Yoongi would say no if you invited him over to your apartment, but you don’t have the security and the heavy protection that the Red offers. 

Collecting your things, you scribble a note for the cleaner before heading out. You’ll only return to the room if Yoongi intends on swinging by again. Though it is more than a suitable place to spend all your time, you like your small apartment tucked downtown above a coffee shop. It has a hominess that feels more like you. That is a little less sterile. 

Sun cracks over the city, spilling light like yolk over the buildings. You shield your eyes as you make your way down the sidewalk, shafts of light falling between buildings. The subway is full of people heading to work. Everyone shuffles without speaking, some buttoning collars of uniforms while others close their eyes in seats, headphones snug over their head. 

The lull of the train as it starts makes you drowsy, but you fight to stay awake. Now that you don’t spend hours sleeping in and recovering from servicing clients late into the night, you value your mornings. Want to be the kind of person whose business hours are during the day, to feel the sun on your skin. 

At your stop, you disappear in the flow of people going up the steps. The concrete above is still wet from the rain the night before, your steps tapping wetly as you go. It’s still summer, but the wind in the shade is cool as you enter the parking garage of your building, heading toward the elevator. 

It’s mostly empty, people having left for work already. There’s a single black SUV by the elevator that you don’t recognize, the windows too dark to see inside. As you approach the car, you realize that it’s on, idling quietly. 

Years of living in the wrong part of town have you slowing your steps. Your eyes flicker to the plate to see a metal shield over it, hiding the numbers on the vehicle. The back of your neck tingles. You come to a full stop, staring at the running vehicle. No one makes a move to get out and there’s no indication that someone is inside.

While you don’t live in the luxurious part of town, your neighborhood is relatively safe. It’s not without instances, but you live deep into Yoongi’s territory, his foothold on this block strong. You’ve never had to worry about walking down the road by yourself at night or making it to your apartment when drunk.

Now, you’re worried. Instinct needles you sharply. There is no reason to think the SUV means you any harm, but something is screaming at you to walk away. 

Then the elevator opens and a normal looking man and woman exit. They don’t pay you any mind as they get into the vehicle, shutting the back door. Your nerves ease and you laugh at yourself for being so ridiculous. There’s no reason for anyone to be doing something nefarious this early in the morning. 

Shaking yourself out of it, you walk the rest of the way to the elevator. As you reach your hand to press the button to call the elevator car, you hear the sound of the car doors opening. You whip your head to look over your shoulder as men get out of the passenger seat and the back seat.

Instinct kicks in. You turn and run, screaming shrilly for anyone that can hear you. They take off after you, steps thundering against the pavement as the SUV squeals its tires to back out of the spot and peel after you. There’s nowhere to go but out into the street. You head for the sidewalk only to be snatched from behind and lifted off your feet.

You react immediately. You throw your elbow back, connecting to one of the men’s faces. He screams and you hear bones crunch. He drops you but your knees buckle, a mix of fear and lack of coordination making you fall to the ground. The other man is on top of you, pressing you into the ground as you scream savagely, kicking your limbs to wiggle out of his grip. 

He grabs your hair and pulls. You yell out, eyes smarting from the sting in your scalp as he then shoves your face into the ground. It hurts. Pain blooms in the side of your face. You’re aware of tiny pieces of gravel digging into soft skin, cutting up your face. The sting is small in comparison to the throb that pulses through your cheekbone as he grinds your face into the pavement. 

Screams echo in the garage as you’re yanked backwards. There are several hands on you, grip like iron. You snarl and yank your limbs to no avail. Just as you’re pulled into the interior of the car, a piece of cloth is slapped hard against your face. You gasp in surprise, a pungent smell filling your nose before you feel a swift fog take over, your mind fading until there is nothing left. 

-

Pain. It’s the first thing you feel when you come to. It’s a slow sort of drift toward awareness, like sluggishly swimming to the surface of a deep lake. You manage to drag yourself there, but immediately want to sink back into the nothingness again once you feel how much you hurt. 

Your face perhaps hurts the most. Not only does your skin burn, but it feels like you’ve been rocked with a cinderblock on the left side of your face. You dully recall having your head pressed into the concrete with near bone-breaking force. It explains why when you open your eyes, the left feels a little swollen. 

The room you’re in is empty. Your shoulder muscles are on fire, hands tied behind your back in the chair you’re sitting in. It’s hard to pinpoint what hurts worse, body littered with bruises and injuries. Still, you’re alive and that has to count for something. 

A man leans against the wall across from you. He watches you curiously. When you become aware of him, you straighten a little in the seat. Your ass tingles with the numbness of sitting there for who knows how long, and your biceps strain with the movement, making you hiss. 

“I’d like to untie you,” the man offers. “But I need a guarantee that you’ll behave.”

You want out of the ropes, so you nod your head. He nods once and pushes off the wall, walking over to you. You use the nearness of his proximity to gather as many details as you can: Patek watch, a basic model. He smells like mandarin and something spicy like pepper - maybe an Arabian fragrance. The suit he’s in is well-tailored and when he pulls a knife out of his pocket to cut the ropes around your wrist, you see a mother-of-pearl handle. 

Money. This man has money. 

Relief makes you sigh, melting into the chair when the pressure in your shoulder blades releases. You immediately lift your hands and place them into your lap, rubbing your trembling fingers across your palms, pressing firmly to encourage blood flow. Your handles tingle as the circulation begins to return to normal, though you can’t make a fist or move all of your appendages immediately. 

The man backs away and leans against the wall once more. He’s incredibly handsome, the kind of guy who might be an actor or in the movie industry, perhaps. You continue to assess him, placing him a few years older than yourself. His hands are linked in front of him. No marriage ring, no tan to indicate there was once a band there either. 

The expensive cologne matched with the watch leads you to believe someone else picked them out, which leaves you with two options: a lover or a sales associate. Judging the make of the watch, you know it doesn’t look like a limited edition series, so not a very personal gift, if a gift at all. And while the cologne smells expensive, it’s too spicy for a day scent, indicating that he doesn’t have someone to tell him the difference between night and daytime colognes.

If you have to guess, they’re things he’s purchased himself on the advice of a sales associate or because of the amount of numbers on the price tag. It’s a habit that comes with new money.

“I apologize for the roughness,” he offers. “It wasn’t my intent to hurt you.”

“Intent matters little. Results matter a lot.”

“Well said.”

Feeling starts to come back to your hands as you flex them. You’re in some sort of construction building. It looks like maybe an apartment building in the making, with plastic tarps covering the windows and metal scaffolding exposing unfinished concrete. Outside, you think you faintly hear the sound of docks and workers.

“Do you know where we are?”

You look him up and down. “We’re in a building. You’re against a wall, and I’m in a chair.”

He scoffs. “Smart mouth.”

“You asked a question.”

“So I did. We’re in a building that was supposed to be my next venture. Someone, however, got in the way and created a bunch of red tape with the city. Now my funding has been slashed and this building has been sitting unfinished for a year, draining me of my property taxes.”

“Well,” you deadpan. “I’m a whore, not a lender. I can’t get you a loan.”

He grins, but you can’t tell if he’s amused. “You’re not just any whore though, are you? I have on good authority you service high profile clients. One of your clients is the reason this building is stuck in paperwork, and now he wants to take even more from me. I can’t let that happen.” 

Yoongi. He’s talking about Yoongi and you know it. You try not to squirm in your seat, meeting his dark eyes head on. Your mind is trying to make decisions and keep up as much as possible, funneling through the list of names Yoongi has mentioned, anything at all that can give you a leg up.

“High profile clients are where the money is,” you admit. You think perhaps this man is Kwan Daehyun, whom Yoongi has been playing chess with for the better part of a year. “I don’t like to sell information on my clients, but I suppose you know that since you kidnapped me.”

“Consider the sales price on this particular client’s information to be your life. I just need a little bit of information, and you’re free.”

You shrug. “You’ve got me there. What do you want to know?”

“Min Yoongi.” You continue to stare at him, giving away nothing. Your heart is racing in your chest and you try to keep your hands from shaking. When you continue not to answer, he clicks his tongue, annoyed. “What can you tell me about his weaknesses?”

You can’t help it, you laugh. Kwan frowns as you giggle. It hurts to laugh, face bursting with pain as you catch your breath and shake your head. “What a cheesy fucking questions. What, you think I just have a list of things that can hurt Min Yoongi?”

“I know how pillow talk goes. He must talk about his stress. Brag about his assets. What else do men go to whores for?”

“To get their cock sucked, usually.”

Kwan pushes off the wall and storms toward you. You sneer up at him, a little less afraid of him now. He appears small and gutless to you, kidnapping a sex worker to ask for pillow talk secrets to gain a fucking advantage. It means he has nothing on Yoongi and has resorted to pisspoor tactics to get anything usable against Yoongi.

Though how he managed to get to you is unsettling. You’re unsure how he made the connection, or how long he has been watching Yoongi. You find that to be the most irritating, to know that Yoongi has been under surveillance for any period of time. Not that you’ve been smacked around and put in an abandoned building on threat of murder. 

“I will fucking kill you.” 

There is truth in his words. Questioning you is a desperate attempt, but perhaps not his only. It occurs to you that he doesn’t thin you hold any value beyond questioning you, and though he’s said he’ll spare you life, you don’t think that’s true. He only sees you as a vacuum for information, and if you don’t have it or you give it to him, he’ll kill you.

You need to be valuable. And fast. 

“Kill me and you ruin any chance of that deal with him.” Kwan hesitates, eyes darkening as the words spill out of your mouth, “In fact, that was probably already off the table as soon as you had me physically harmed and dragged into a car here. So now, you should stop asking me about what Yoongi’s weaknesses are and start asking, what will Min Yoongi do if you call him and tell him who you kidnapped and tied to a fucking chair.” 

Kwan narrows his eyes. You see him assessing the weight of your words. You fight the urge to leap at him and reach for the folding knife in his pocket. Just because you can’t see a gun doesn’t mean there’s not one, and just because you can’t see or hear anyone else in the building doesn’t mean they aren’t there.

Outside you can hear the cry of a seagull. When you breathe in, you smell ocean water and salt. Definitely keeping you in a building by the docks. You think you know the one. Kwan takes a few steps back from you and crosses his arms over his chest. 

“You think he gives a shit if I have you?”

“You asked for Yoongi’s weakness. You’re looking at it.” 

“I think you’re bullshiting me. I think you’re a whore he won’t deal for.”

“One way to find out, right?”

Instead of answering, Kwan turns on his heel and walks towards the opaque tarp. He walks through it and two men replace him at the entrance. Both of them are armed, staring down at you. Ignoring them, you roll your neck in slow circles, trying to ease the soreness.

Tentatively, you reach a hand up to your face, pressing your fingers into your cheek. You hiss, the pain still raw and present underneath your fingers. You can feel small scabs from where the gravel broke skin, but thankfully it doesn’t feel like your eyes are too swollen. 

Time passes. You remain in the chair, fidgeting now that you’re awake. Your tongue is heavy in your dry mouth and your lips begin to burn from wetting them constantly, only to be dried out by the salty air. You feel itchy and irritable, trying not to squirm too much in the chair lest you disturb the guards.

Most of all, without having to put on a brave performance, you feel afraid. Afraid of being here by yourself in this warehouse, afraid that you’ve made a mistake trying to make yourself valuable, afraid that Kwan isn’t going to give you a chance to talk to Yoongi as proof of life. 

You’re not versed in this part of Yoongi’s life. So much of his business has been held separate from you. The violence and the extortion and the sketchy deals have always been something he did outside of that room at the Red. You’re not afraid of this life, though. Just unprepared and trying to guess what to do next, fueled by poorly written crime movies and stories that Yoongi has told you in the warmth of your bed.

It feels like hours have gone by when Kwan comes back into the room. You sit up straight when you see the phone in his hand and see the fire in his eyes. He looks like a man who has had something go right - which means you have him right where you want him, if he’s doing what you think he is. 

Kwan holds out the phone to you. “You have five minutes to talk to him as an act of good faith on my proposal.”

You see Yoongi’s name on the caller idea and try not to start crying. Swallowing thickly, you lick your lips again and bring the phone up to your ear. The tremble in your hand and your voice isn’t a performance when you say, “Hello?”

“Where are you? He hasn’t told me.”

“Yeah, I’m alive.” You sniff a little. “Agh, don’t make me cry. My face will get saltier than it already is.”

“I need more than that, Angel. He’s trying to make deals with me, but I need to know where you are to come get you. He won’t tell me where you’re at unless I wire over money and legally sign over assets.”

“No, he hasn’t hurt me. He’s been polite, though I’ve been kind of a beach- bitch. I’ve been a bitch. Sorry, I’m very tired.”

“Is it the building in the warehouse district at the docks? That apartment shell?”

“Yes, I can do that. Just… please agree to whatever he says, I feel tired and loaded. Bloated. Sorry, I’m confusing words again.”

“Yeah, well I’ve got fucking guns too. We’re going to come get you okay?”

This time when you sniff, you feel actual tears. Of relief that he understands your weird turns of phrase, of the terror at knowing he’s going to have to come get you. To risk his life for you. You knew he would, and yet you almost hate to ask him. 

“Thank you.” 

“You’ll be okay, Angel, but I need you to listen.” 

“Okay.” 

His voice is firm as he says, “I need you to do whatever it is you need to do to protect yourself. Don’t think twice about it. It is you or them, do you understand me? There is almost a certainty you are going to have to kill someone when we come get you. Start thinking about it now. Try to get used to it so that when the time comes, you’re not afraid anymore.” 

“Okay. I love you.” 

“See you soon.”

-

Yoongi likes to think that he is an expert in control. His compartmentalization is unmatched, and though he is incredibly proud, his pride is not easily wounded. Foolish slights and insults don’t rile him the way they might have in his youth, and physical threats of harm are amusing, especially when no very few people carry through on their threat. 

When Yoongi hangs up the phone, he loses every ounce of control he’s ever felt. Never has his urge to destroy been so sharp. He sees red, slamming his hands across his desk and swiping everything off. He tastes metal in his mouth as he bites through his cheek, screaming as he hammers his fists on top of the desk hard enough that he thinks he might split the wood. 

Hoseok and Seokjin hear the commotion, crashing into the office with Namjoon and Jungkook behind them, weapons drawn. Yoongi is shaking when he looks up at them, the phone screen cracked in his hand. He cannot stop shaking, the adrenaline coursing through his veins like a dose of heroin. 

All of their voices sound like a mess of sounds. The ringing in his ears overpowers everything they’re saying as he stands there, hands at his side, mind racing and chest heaving as he pants. Why is he panting? Yoongi feels like he’s suddenly not getting enough air, dropping his phone to loosen the tie around his neck, trying to give himself more room to breathe. Why do his clothes feel so fucking tight?

Suddenly it’s like there isn’t enough air in the room. Yoongi feels the tunnel vision come up on him fast. Chills spread through his body as he wavers, hands held out as he tries to catch his breath. He feels hands on him trying to steady him, but he yanks away from them. They feel too close, too much in his space and he needs more room. Room to get this blazer off and breathe. Breathe, why can’t he breathe? 

Yoongi stumbles into a wall. His vision pulses on the edges and he can vaguely make out Hoseok’s voice. He looks up at him and sees his friend, his advisor. Hoseok isn’t touching him, but his head is cocked as he tries to keep and maintain eye contact with Yoongi. 

“Inhale for seven seconds,” Hoseok says. “Then exhale for seven. I’ll count.”

“What?” Yoongi demands.

“You’re having an anxiety attack.” Hoseok states it as if it’s the most common thing in the world. “You have to regulate your breathing or you’re going to pass out. If you pass out, we can’t help.” 

It’s the only thing that gets him to listen. He counts with Hoseok, drawing in long breaths.

One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven.

Yoongi has to shake this. Has to get ready and call his people, needs to make plans to come get you. He knows exactly where you are - wants to fucking kiss you for how clever you mange to be even while terrified. 

One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven.

He knows you’re afraid. Yoongi has never heard your voice tremble like that since he’s known you. He knows every tone of your voice, every color to the spectrum of your sounds, able to pick them apart to know how you feel. And while you spoke in a clear tone, it was all wrong. Colored with terror. Voice soft and rough and wavering. 

One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven.

The ringing in his ears fade. Yoongi continues to take slow, deep breaths. His hands are still shaking and he feels a little light headed, but when he blinks a few times and looks around, he sees his closest men and confidants standing around him, waiting. 

“Talk to us,” Hoseok urges. “What’s going on?”

“Kwan has my girl. They’re in that apartment project we froze in the docks.”

“He told you where they were?”

“No, she did.”

Hoseok looks weary. “That sounds like a trap - did he already offer you a deal?”

“He said several things. He didn’t tell me where they were, she did.”

“In front of-”

“Hoseok, stop asking stupid questions or I swear to fucking god I’ll hit you first. She’s not used to any of this, but she isn’t fucking stupid. She used the words salt, beach and loaded. They’re in that building and they’re armed.”

“Poetic,” Seokjin grunts. Yoongi cuts his gaze to his head of security and the man pales. “Sorry, bad timing.”

“Get every fucking person we know on the fucking ground and here. We’re going to get her.”

“They’ll see us coming from a mile away.”

Yoongi stares at Seokjin. “I don’t give a fuck. Kwan wanted to find a weakness, well he found one. And now I’m going to paint that shitty little development with his blood.”

An hour later is when it hits Yoongi. He stops in the middle of tying a shoe and he stands. He’s replaying the conversation with you over and over in his head, looking for any other details he could have missed. He was so fucking proud of you for getting your point across even while scared, but now it’s something else he thinks of.

I love you. He had almost not realized you said it at all at the end of the call. He can’t remember if he said it back, but he’s suddenly sick over the what if of it all. What if he doesn’t get to say it back? What if he gets there and swarms in, only to find you dead? 

In a moment of panic, he texts Hoseok to request proof of life on the hour every hour from Kwan under the guise of considering his horrendous deal. Kwan, of course, thinks he’s got Yoongi. He doesn’t, naturally. They haven’t agreed on a time or place to meet, and Kwan does not seem to understand just how poorly he’s miscalculated. 

None of it matters. All that matters is that Yoongi is going to come get you like he promised, and he is never letting you out of his sight again. 

-

Surprisingly, your living conditions change a little upon Kwan learning that you’re more valuable kept alive and in decent condition than beat up or dead. He has a cot and a fan brought in, along with an ice back for your cheek and a thermos of water.

You crush the thermos almost immediately. Though you’re kept under armed guards now, you’re relieved to be able to lay down and stretch your sore limbs. When the ice pack finally grows hot and melts on your aching cheekbone, one of the guards gets you a new one without question.

It almost makes you feel bad for what is to come. Almost. 

You know Yoongi. It’s why you gambled with a hostage play in the first place. He won’t let them have you and it doesn’t matter what Kwan offers him, Yoongi is far too powerful to accept deals from the likes of Kwan. It isn’t so much a matter of pride as it is a matter of power. You know Yoongi has the power to pull you out of this without further harm. 

At least, you have put every ounce of trust and confidence in him that you have. 

Time moves slowly. It’s hard to know how fast Yoongi will mobilize or what his plan is. It would make sense for him to perhaps cause a distraction elsewhere to get Kwan’s eyes off of you, but it’s also a dangerous game to play with a hostage. 

It doesn’t matter. Yoongi has his job and you have yours, which is to work the screw out of one of the cots joints. You’ve picked one that isn’t imperative to the overall structure of the cot. It can bear your weight without the screw as long as you don’t lean on the joint too much. It takes you a while to unscrew it with your bare fingers, all while lying on your back trying to look uninterested in anything.

I need you to do whatever it is you need to do to protect yourself. 

Finally, you pull the cool metal free. You slide it into the pocket of your sweatpants. The weight of it feels better than nothing. It won’t do much damage, but a well placed punch to the face with the screw between your knuckles will do what you need, even if you damage your hand to do it. 

You’ve never killed someone. Thought about it a few times, maybe. Had some people try to sway you to slip something into a client’s drink, but you never accepted. Killing isn’t your business. It’s Yoongi’s, but you know that if he’s telling you to take the chance, it’s because he wants you to live. 

The thought is chilling. You rest your hand on the pocket, feeling the shape of the screw. You don’t know how to kill. You’re not even entirely sure that you have it in you. You’ve seen people die and you’ve seen people murder. It seems easy.

You’re not sure if it’s that simple. 

It’s late into the night when a commotion draws you from your half-slumber. You lift your head as someone comes in and mutters something to the guards. They nod and one of them leaves, the other turning to face you with a glare, hand resting just inside his jacket where you assume there’s a gun.

Outside, you hear the sound of peeling tires as a car takes off. 

Nerves take over. You feel your heartbeat pickup as you continue to lay on the cot, one hand under your pillow. It’s hard to think of what might be happening over the sound of your own pulse, but you try to regulate your breathing. There’s nothing happening right that second that you can control, so there’s no reason to panic.

A few minutes go by. It’s agony, waiting with bated breath. It’s quiet outside except for the sounds of the ocean and the mostly empty warehouses and docks. Plastic snaps in the breeze, loud in the silence of your waiting. You think that this is the worst part, the anticipation for what’s to come. You can’t sleep now even if you tried. 

When the first round of gunfire comes, you almost lose control of your bowels. It’s a shameful sort of fear that takes you by surprise, making you freeze up. You have been waiting for it, and yet now that you can hear the sound of automatic weapons somewhere below, it feels worse than you imagined. 

Looking up at the guard at the door, you reel in surprise to see him rushing toward you. Time seems to slow down. The sound of guns and yelling fade to the background everything suddenly becomes hyper focused. 

I need you to do whatever it is you need to do to protect yourself. 

As the guard leans to pick you up, you strike like a snake, pulling the screw from your pocket and jabbing upward with a savage scream.

His guttural cry splits the night. You feel hot blood spray your hand and dot your face as you plunge the blunt screw into his eye socket. Blood makes your fingers slippery and as he falls onto his back, hands clutching his face, you lose your grip. 

I need you to do whatever it is you need to do to protect yourself. 

No hesitation. You dive for him, stained hands searching for the weapon. The metal of the gun slides in your slick fingers. Through the blinding pain, the guard realizes what you’re doing and grabs your forearms. You pull back against him but can’t shake his grip, your hand stuck in his jacket on the gun. You finger the trigger and squeeze, but it doesn’t budge. The fucking safety. 

Sliding a knee down, you crush the cap of your knee between his legs, pressing his balls with your full weight. He screams and his grip goes slack. You yank on the gun, almost dropping it as it slides free from the holster. Your grip is clumsy and shaking, your heart pounding so hard you think you might die of fright before you manage to find the safety on the hammer and pull it back. 

I need you to do whatever it is you need to do to protect yourself. 

Click. Squeeze. Bang. 

You don’t aim. Don’t have the sense to at that moment. This close, you don’t have to aim at all. You hit your target and his yelling turns to shrieks. You can’t tell where you’ve shot him, all you know is that you have. You scramble away, hands slipping on the floor, gun clutched clumsily in your hand. 

A hand goes around your ankle and you scream as he drags you backward. You roll onto your back, bringing the gun up again, trying to aim in the general direction of his chest.

Squeeze. Bang. 

It’s so loud. Your ears are ringing and you’re unable to hear anything as the grip on your ankle immediately goes slack. The guard goes limp, the fight leaving him immediately. You don’t look - can’t look. Can’t focus on anything but the way your vision tunnels. 

Dizziness sweeps over you as you crawl away from him again. Your knees and palms might hurt if you could feel anything at all, but numbness starts to take over as you manage to press yourself against a wall near the doorway. You don’t dare move toward it, too untrained to handle a gun while terrified. 

“Angel!” you hear Yoongi’s voice screaming somewhere in the building. You open your mouth but nothing comes out. Your lips tremble. You try to find your voice, willing the words to come. Mouth open, his name on the tip of your tongue, you can’t find a response. “Angel, come on, baby! Where are you?”

“Yoongi,” you whisper. It’s not nearly loud enough and your voice cracks on the name. You close your eyes and take a deep, shuddering breath as you muster strength behind your voice. “Yoongi!” 

“That’s it, keep talking to me.” 

It sounds like he is yelling somewhere down a stairwell, voice echoing up concrete walls. “Up!” You start to curl into yourself. “Yoongi, up!” 

Steps thunder in the stairwell. You drop the gun next to you and look at your hands. They’re slick and wet. In a panic, you start wiping them on your sweatpants, smearing red as you do. You viciously wipe your hands. You want the blood off, you don’t want it all over you, it’s hot and stick and it’s not yours and it belongs to the dead man who was trying to take you-

Warm hands grab your face and tilt you upward. You blink through blurry tears. Yoongi looks back at you, his forehead sweaty and his slicked back hair a little messy. He turns your face from side to side as more of his men flood into the room, guns raised.

Yoongi’s mouth moves but you can’t hear him. You shake your head, looking up at him. His grip softens and the gentle brush of his thumb back and forth across your face eases the rising panic inside of you. You sniff, taking a few slow, trembling breaths. 

“Are you seriously injured?” Yoongi asks again, voice rough. Cracking. “Do you need medical attention?”

“No.”

“The blood-” You shake your head violently, closing your eyes. “Okay. It’s okay. You did what you needed to do, Angel. I’m going to get you on your feet and take you home, okay?” 

“I don’t-”

“My home. Not yours. You’re coming home.”

Yoongi doesn’t need to explain what he means. As he slowly pulls you to your feet, you know what he’s telling you. You’re going to his estate, because it’s yours too now. The agreement is unspoken but mutual. You don’t want to go back to your apartment. You don’t want to go back to the Red. Right now, all you want is to wash the blood from your hands and get away from this place. 

Seokjin is at the door with a blanket. He wraps it around you as Yoongi keeps his hands around your waist, steadying you as you walk. You get down two levels of stairs before he tucks you into him and presses his lips against your temple.

“Close your eyes,” he murmurs, mouth moving against your skin. “I won’t let you trip.”

You do as you’re told. His steps are confident and careful as he leads you through the bottom floor. You hear the murmur of voices, the flapping of plastic tarp, and the humming engines of vehicles. Yoongi lifts you lightly and helps you get into the cool interior of a car that smells like leather. 

When the door shuts, you flinch and open your eyes, staring straight forward. Yoongi is next to you, arm going around your shoulders as he pulls you into his side again. You realize for the first time as you glance at him that there’s blood on his face and in his hair. His knee bounces up and down, his hand resting against it, still gripping a gun with the safety off. 

“Are we safe?” you whisper, staring at his gun. 

“Yes.”

“Then why-”

“It makes me feel better,” he admits. “I just need to come down.”

“Okay.” 

“Look at me.”

You do. His eyes are dark and though his mouth is pinched at the corners and the vein throbs in his forehead, his eyes are soft for you. “I love you,” he murmurs. “We’re safe.”

-

A week makes the pain in your cheekbone fade away. A week does not make the memory of squeezing the trigger fade. At night, the memory is worse. What your mind had been unable to remember at first comes back in full-clarity at night, gripping you in your sleep and dragging you down into an endless terror until Yoongi pries you from the clutches of your nightmares and wakes you. 

It’s easier with him by your side, though. You’re at least able to fall asleep, if not stay asleep through the night. When he wakes you from screaming and thrashing in the sheets, you’re able to settle against him, his hold on you firm. Comforting.

Yoongi takes this in stride. He doesn’t complain, doesn’t lose his patience. He simply murmurs that he gets it and holds you, his skin warm and smelling like home. 

Home. 

The estate is a sprawling mass of elegance that stuns you each day. Beyond the opulence of the home and the luxury that it offers, what matters most is the security. The personnel at every entrance, the high gate with cameras and alarms, the three lurking dobermans that still terrify you when you see them standing in a dark hall at night or watching you in the kitchen when you get a glass of water after a nightmare. 

Nox has come around to liking you, at least. She’s become your shadow in the house, which had made you a little unsure at first. Now, she trails you up the stairs and to the master bedroom. You’ve grown used to her - prefer it, even, when Yoongi is not home like right now. 

Erebus and Khonsu are on the floor of the master bedroom. Both watch you as you enter, unbothered but aware. Where their younger sister has adopted you as an owner and a thing to protect, they still seem set on Yoongi only. 

The three dogs remain in the bedroom as you end the bathroom. It makes you feel safe to know that even if someone managed to get through the gates, up the driveway, through the secured doors and the dozen people that Yoongi has stationed at the estate since your kidnapping, the dogs are another line of defense. 

So is the gun under the bathroom cabinet and in the nightstand, but you don’t want to touch a gun ever again. Not if the nightmares it gives are like this. 

Steam fills the room accompanied by the scent of eucalyptus. Carefully, you peel the clothes from your body and toss them into a corner. The stone shower is warm with heated floors and a digital panel both inside and outside for control of the fifteen different water settings. There’s even steam options, but you simply turn on the rain feature, slipping under the dripping ceiling. 

The hot, wet taps of the water lull you into a trance. You stand with your head tilted down, letting the rivulets of water run the full length of your body.

“Angel, I’m home,” Yoongi calls from the bedroom. You smile, appreciating that he announces his presence instead of sneaking up on you. He’s always careful to make noise when he enters rooms now and announces his arrival. “You just get in?”

“Yeah,” you call back. “Join me?”

“Give me five.” 

When he finally enters the bathroom, you turn around to look at him. He’s already pulling the tie around his neck loose, dropping it to the ground. You catch sight of the red across his knuckles. Though he is free of blood - an effort on his part now to bring it home to you - you notice the days where he comes home and his knuckles are split or bruised, hands aching. 

Watching Yoongi undress captures your full attention. His movements are slow and methodical. His back is to you, shirt dripping off his broad shoulders to join the tie on the floor. He looks up in the mirror and pauses, dark eyes catching yours. You raise a brow and gesture for him to continue. When he does, it’s with his tongue poking his cheek and a smirk. 

Knowing that you’re watching, Yoongi turns it into an art. His fingers trace the top of his slacks before he slowly undoes the belt, pulling it with a satisfying hiss through the loops before holding it out to the side and letting it clatter to the floor. Your eyes are zeroed in on his reflection in the mirror as he works the button open, peeling the top of his pants apart to reveal the logo of his briefs. 

Yoongi pauses. Your eyes dart up to his in the mirror to find him watching you, eyes dark. The scar looks menacing today. You squeeze your thighs together, chewing on your bottom lip. He notices, smirk growing as he rolls the slacks down his thighs and kicks them aside. You see the imprint of his half-hard cock in his briefs, your attention on him alone enough to get his blood pumping.

You’ll never get over having that effect on him. Knowing that even after the nightmares and becoming an inconvenience - in your eyes, at least - the chemistry between you isn’t gone. It’s still there, a burning candle. 

Slowly, Yoongi peels off his briefs. His heavy cock bobs as he steps out of them and you feel your pussy clench around nothing, just thinking about him stretching you open. He says nothing about the small bead of precum at the tip as he turns and walks over to the shower.

He’s built beautifully. Broad shoulders with a slim, tapered waist. Strong arms and large hands, firm chest and soft but muscular stomach. Yoongi is the perfect blend of pretty and rugged, a combination that you didn’t know existed until him. 

When he steps into the shower, you step further into the water, making room for him. He shuts the door and frowns at the distance between you, holding out his hand. You take it immediately and he pulls you forward, careful not to let you slip on the tile.

He doesn’t waste a moment. Yoongi’s mouth captures yours, wet from the shower water as he sucks your bottom lip between his teeth, nipping lightly. You hum, bringing your arms to loop around his neck, fingers combing through his wet hair. His cock presses against your lower stomach, and you shiver. 

Yoongi’s kisses are addicting. Slow, like he has all the time in the world, but hungry, like he can’t get enough. His tongue brushes the roof of your mouth, his teeth pulling at your lip again when he pulls his mouth away to press open-mouthed kisses on your jaw. 

Tilting your head back, you let him pepper kisses along your throat. You close your eyes, letting him hold you to him. The room tilts as you sway in his arms, the feeling of him licking the hollow of your throat entrancing. It’s so simple yet it feels so good. 

One arm loops around your waist to keep you pressed to Yoongi, his other slides up your wet skin to cup your breast. You let out a breathy moan when you feel his thumb circle your stiff nipple, the stimulation so bare but so good. 

Yoongi keeps you cradled against him, mouth working your neck and shoulder and back up to your mouth while his thumb lazily plays with your nipple. You're pliant in his arms, letting him do whatever he wants with you.

His mouth starts to descend and when he finally takes your nipple into his mouth, you can’t stop the whine that escapes you. He hums as he sucks gently, tongue flicking back and forth over the peak. You can’t help but twitch in his arms, a ripple of pleasure sliding through you. 

Heat pulses between your legs and you feel the slick gathering in your folds. Your legs squeeze together again as Yoongi drags his teeth over your sensitive nipple before letting go and switching to the other. This time, he looks up at you through dark, wet lashes, sticking out his devilish tongue as he uses the tip to trace your skin.

“Show off,” you mutter, voice shaking. 

He laughs and runs the flat of his tongue over your nipple before giving a sharp suck that has you arching into him. “You love having your tits in my mouth,” he shoots back. He bites the top of your breast softly, teeth scraping your soft skin. “Don’t deny it.”

“I plead the fifth.”

“Hmmm.” 

“You don’t have to say anything,” he teases. The hand around your back slides down to your ass. He grabs a handful, squeezing generously. “Can you turn around for me? Legs spread so I can see that pretty pussy.” 

“Fuck.” 

He drops his arms so you can turn around. You press your palms against the wall, shivering as the cold tile leeches the warmth from you. The temperature difference makes the room tilt. You slide your legs apart and stick your ass out toward him, lifting a little. 

“Fuck yeah.” 

You can’t see him, but you feel him as he slides down to his knees. His palms grip your ass, spreading your cheeks open. You close your eyes and let your head hang between your arms when it feels too heavy to hold up yourself. 

“Just want a quick taste,” Yoongi mutters.

“Shiiiit,” you hiss, feeling his tongue dance up and down your cunt. He licks you in broad, slow stripes before he puts his entire mouth on you and sucks sharply. “Just like that.” 

“Fuck.” The smack of his lips against your wet heat are bracketed by the slick sound of him stroking his cock, the filthy sounds echoing in the shower. “I could eat you out every day.”

“You do.”

“Fine.” His tongue zigzags back and forth, reaching to swirl around your click. He kisses your cunt and stands up. “I’ll make it twice a day, then.” 

The blunt head of his cock slides between your folds. You press back toward him, eager to have him push in and split you open. He tuts at you, giving you a gentle smack on your ass. “Eager.”

“I’ve been waiting all fucking day for it, Yoongi. Give it to me.” 

“Mmm.” 

The feeling of Yoongi sinking his cock into you slowly drives you mad. You feel like you can’t breathe, every inch of his thick length stretching your walls to the max. It feels like he’s in your guts when he bottoms out, the pressure immense and good and dizzying. 

He starts slow, giving a few shallow thrusts as you adjust to be pried open. You relax around him, falling into the pleasure as he begins to fuck you in earnest. Hands on your waist, he pulls your ass backwards, meeting every one of his strokes in a loud, wet smack of hips on ass.

A shiver ripples down your spine and you moan when he adjusts the angle, prodding your g-spot. “Yeah?” he asks through gritted teeth. “That the spot?”

“Yes, please fuck me just like that.”

Nothing else exists beyond this. The steam makes your skin even hotter, cloying the air and making it hard to breathe. It makes everything fuzzy, like you’re drifting in and out of reality, pleasure unfolding in you as you squeeze around his cock. 

Each snap of his hips is punctuated with stilted breath. You’re gasping, thighs burning as you take every inch of him, fingers curling against the wall, eyes rolling back as you fall into a mute space. You make sound but no words come out, the pressure against that spot inside of you driving you mad. 

Yoongi slides a hand from your waist over the curve of your ass and between your cheeks, thumb pressing gently on the rim of your ass. You let out a loud moan, fingers trying to grab the wall to no avail. The new stimulation feels delicious, Yoongi’s thumb pressing against your asshole in time with his strokes. He doesn’t push past the ring of muscles, but it doesn’t matter - it’s enough to send you careening closer to your orgasm, toeing the line of insanity. 

“Fuck, Angel,” he pants, fucking into you harder. “Just like that, make it fucking creamy. You gonna come?” 

“Fuuuuck yeah.”

His thumb presses harder against your rim. “Come on, give it to me.” 

“Shit shit shit shit.” 

You lose the ability to say anything. Your body folds forward, only held up by Yoongi and the press of the freezing cold wall as he fucks you with precision. It sends you over the edge, your knees knocking as you come, fists pressing into the wall as you yell through it. 

The sound of the shower is drowned out by your babbling. Yoongi thrusts hard a few more times, hand slipping away from your ass to grip your waist hard, chasing his high. He comes with a loud curse, fingers digging into your skin. 

For a moment, he leans into you, pressing his cock as far in as he can go. Your pussy throbs around him, every pulse ebbing around him. He presses kisses up your spine, hands sliding up your ribs to pull you upright until your back is against his chest. 

“Fuck,” he pants, voice rough. “I’m so glad you’re mine.”

“I’ve always been yours.”

“I mean entirely. Without sharing.”

You pause, looking up at him with a frown. “You know I haven’t been… taking clients for two years, right?”

He pauses. “What?”

“You stupid boy,” you laugh, laying your head against his shoulder. “Of course I wasn’t. I just wanted you.” 

“Then why stay there?”

You shrug a shoulder, letting your eyes fall closed. The warmth of the orgasm blooms through you, Yoongi’s skin hot against your back and  the shower hotter still. “It was a place I knew you’d be safe when you visited. And I didn’t want to ask you for more. Everyone always wants more from you. I just wanted you.”

“All that time, I could have just… asked you to come home?”

“Yes. But it’s okay. I’m home now.”

He kisses your neck. “You are home, Angel.” 

#yoongi smut #suga smut #min yoongi smut #bts smut #yoongi fic #yoongi fanfic #suga fic #suga fanfic #bts fanfic #bts fic #yoongi x you #yoongi x reader #mafia yoongi #mafia bts #minors dni #minors do not interact #halis happy agust

[ilys00ga]

𝗲𝘁𝗲𝗿𝗻𝗮𝗹 𝘀𝘂𝗻𝘀𝗵𝗶𝗻𝗲.

➞ pair: yoongi x female reader.

➞ word count: 1k

➞ synopsis: "yoongi and reader making a meal together for yoongi's parents" with a little bit of a domestic twist.

➞ genre: established relationship, husband!yoongi, dad!yoongi, just fluffy fluff fluff, they cook together, dad!yoongi, nothing goes wrong, dad!yoongi, just pure happiness, they also call it tooth-rotting fluff lol, did I mention: DAD!YOONGI ???, they have a babygirl uwu <33

➞ A/N: first off, thank u anon for sending me this super cute prompt, I loved it and had sm fun writing it!! second, EID MUBARAK TO MY FELLOW MUSLIMS OUT THEREEE <3 this is my lil gift for yall on this eid. it wasn't supposed to be this long tbh, and I haven't written anything for over a month, so, sorry if this is kind of messy and all over the place??? im trying to get my sht together again. but I really liked the prompt and!!! had to write it!!!! kkk enjoy bbys <3

ps. any form of feedback is reallyyyy appreciated. I live for compliments :) !

★ MASTERLIST.

ᵎᵎ 𖦹彡⋆｡˚・ ─ ・ ⋯ ・ ─ ⊹ ♡₊˚๑

It was one warm spring morning.

Yoongi was back from a long series of concerts just a couple of days ago. Grateful to be finally home with the two people that mean the absolute world to him. Your cat was purring on his chest as the two of you laid on the bed, enjoying the quiet of Saturday that had just begun, when his mother called to announce that, later that evening, she and his father would be coming over.

One thing led to another, and there you stood with your husband in the kitchen. One was chopping ingredients up by the stove, the other handling a mixer. Your two years old baby girl, Nara, was sitting in her high chair somewhere away from the oven and any other harmful thing. What used to be your favorite playlists playing ever so softly in the background as you fixed yourselves your favorite meals, together, was replaced with the mindless blabbering of your sweet baby girl instead, playing with the wooden spoon you had given her to play with some minutes before.

“Is this good?” Yoongi dipped the tip of his finger into the mixture he’s been working on, and carefully brought it up to your lips. You hummed in satisfaction as soon as the flavors hit your taste buds, a little bit taken aback at how he nailed your mother’s secret recipe only in the first try, “Great. You’re getting so good at this, Yoonie. I think you should take over kitchen duties very soon.”

He snorted, “If that means I’ll never have to do the laundry ever again, then sure.”

Feigning annoyance, you hissed at him, “You’re so lazy.”

“No one likes doing laundry, honey. Not even you.”

"You're so annoying."

Your daily bickering banters were disturbed by the sound of his phone ringing from the other room. He left to take the call, leaving you with your noisy little baby. The chef hat she had on her head–Yoongi's idea, by the way, along with the tiny apron she wore as well–was almost too big on her. It made her look a thousand times more adorable that you immediately started grinning and cooing when she looked up at you.

"And what about you chef? Are you having fun?"

She balled her fists up and raised them in the air, wiggling in her seat to let you know that she wanted to be picked up. Being the ever so whipped mom that you were, you scooped her up in your arms right away, and peppered kisses all over her chubby face. Her giggles seeped through your skin and locked into your bones, aching with a sickeningly utmost adoration.

“Mom said they’re almost here.” Said Yoongi upon entering the kitchen, putting his phone atop the table and smiling as soon as his eyes fell on the two of you—his girls.

“Are you being a good chef assistant, baby?” He cooed, kissing her cheek, then leaning in to leave a peck on your lips.

“She’s been blabbering her life off the whole time you were gone." you hummed.

“Mom is going to have a good time conversing with her this evening.”

“We’re almost done cooking now.” You reminded him, “Honey, check on the oven please.”

“Right.”

A wave of heat hit his face as soon as he opened the oven, but he smiled once he checked on the muffins, “they are done.”

When he took the tray out and swiftly put it on the counter, Nara erupted in a fit of loud blabber, flailing the arm that clutched on the wooden spoon in the air and almost smacking your face in the process.

It had your husband giggling, of course. He couldn’t help but join in and engage with her blather, how could he not when he got such an adorable chatterbox for a child? “Huh, Nini? The muffins are done! Yeah!”

He took her into his arms, allowing you to go check on the stewpot that was still boiling on the stove, before bringing her to have a look at the tray of the mouth watering muffins, and cheered, “look!”

Your heart, yet again, swooned, almost oozing out of your ribs with how tight your chest grew to be at the sound of your baby’s joyful squeals. She was all excited as her daddy showed her around the process of cooking the dinner for her grandparents.

Nara was having the time of her life. For some reason, she's always loved being in the kitchen. Yoongi once made a comment about her becoming a successful chef, which then turned into a long, heartwarming talk about your daughter and her future. The gentle smile Yoongi had on his face throughout that was one to die for, especially when he sulked about not wanting your babygirl to grow up. His pout was so intense, you ended up engulfing him in a bone crushing hug for almost half an hour.

It was moments like this one that you wished were pictures so you could cut them up and hide them. Somewhere deep inside your heart. Forever. That's how you often found yourself observing and admiring every single interaction your husband made with your baby, and that’s how you ended up listening attentively as he continued to talk so passionately and earnestly with her, while simultaneously attempting to work with his free arm to the best of his abilities.

She, at one point, got so ecstatic that she accidentally thrusted her arm forward and hit him in the face with that spoon. But he only turned to look at you with an affectionate smile.

Struggling through a fit of giggles, you slipped the wooden object from her grasp and gave her a big kiss; making sure to squish her doughy cheeks—a trait that she definitely got from her father, “No more hitting mama and papa for you!”

The little girl’s squeaks only got louder as she reached out with her arms towards you, addressing you with more words of her very own and special language.

“Family hug?” you asked, glancing at a grinning Yoongi.

“Family hug!” He wrapped his free arm around you, bringing your body closer so that Nara could get a hold of you as well, then added, “but let’s make it a short one or else my parents are going to come to a burnt dinner.”

#yoongi #bts #yoongi scenarios #yoongi x reader #yoongi fluff #yoongi drabble #bts yoongi #bts scenarios #yoongi gif #min yoongi #yoongi icons #suga fluff #suga fic #bts suga #suga #bts fic #bts gifs #bts army

[citrustan]

slipping through my fingers [prologue] (myg)

pairing: min yoongi x reader genre: dilf!yoongi, exes and co-parents au, angst, fluff, smut summary: you've always thought you had it way too easy. all of a sudden, your life seems to be taking a few unexpected turns. it's time your luck ran out. word count: 1.4k warnings: none, you're all good > : )

The soft whirring sound of the radiator echoed through your cozy apartment.

It’s homey and comforting to hear the constant hum in the background. Sometimes, you’d leave the window open for the cold air to enter your space just so you had an excuse to use your radiator.

Still, you ought to get that fixed up before your ex-boyfriend lectures you about getting a new one already.

It was one of those days when time seemed to have slowed down. As you folded your daughter’s fresh laundry, you went over your tasks for the day.

You were in no hurry because for once, you had everything together.

The living room bathed in the sun’s golden hue.

Your daughter sat on her favourite spongy floor mat, completely absorbed in creating her new art piece. Her fingers were covered in pink, purple and white paint.

Momentarily pausing, you take note of what type of paint she used.

Acrylic.

You sigh. That would be a pain to clean off.

After putting away the laundered clothes, you remind your daughter to get into the bath.  

You stood in front of her with your hand on your hips, “Nao, do you want mommy to run you a warm bath or would you rather shower?”

She simply hums.

“Mommy needs to shower too. You better get in there…” You walk away after adding, “Before I do.”

At that, Naomi instantaneously stops and rushes into the bath.

Naomi was a lot like you. She hated using wet bathrooms, as do you. But motherhood had changed you. Now, you’d do just about anything for your daughter.

As if you just remembered, you yelp, “Hold on! Let me clean the paint off of you first.”

You didn’t want your pristine white bathroom tiles to stain.

After bathing and dressing your daughter in a sage green cotton dress that you stitched yourself, you decide to let her watch TV even though it isn’t time for that just yet.

“Is daddy coming to get me today?” Naomi’s enthusiastic voice stopped you. It’s a bittersweet moment for you. On one hand, you’re happy that your daughter’s happy, on the other, you’re reminded that Yoongi and you aren’t together anymore.

“Of course, he is. It’s Friday!” You match her tone. She perks up and resumes watching the Barbie movie you put on for her.

Naomi would be distracted for a good thirty minutes now.

That does not leave you a lot of time for your ‘everything’ shower, but you were aiming high either way.

While in the shower, you let your thoughts wander to Yoongi.

He suggested you have dinner together because he had a few things to discuss with you.

You don’t think too much of it. It’s probably something about his upcoming business trip. You’ve got everything covered either way.

Your breakup was… inevitable. It wasn’t mutual at first, but you knew it’s where you were headed to.

After five years of dating, while simultaneously parenting Naomi, you wanted to get married. Yoongi didn’t.

You yearned for the validation and commitment of marriage, while Yoongi held steadfast to his belief against it. He refused to confine himself to a traditional marriage.

When you opened up to him about your insecurities about him leaving you for someone else, he grappled to reassure and console you. It worked for about a month.

Your differences, once manageable, had now grown into impossible divides, creating a rift that stretched beyond mere disagreement.

Self-doubt and a lack of validation destroyed your relationship.

The water had almost run cold by the time you finished your shower routine.

You pick out a sage green dress for yourself, similar to Naomi’s, just longer.

In no hurry, you moisturize and blow-dry your hair.

Even though you’re broken up, you still try to dress up for him. You don’t know why.

Apart from some lingering stares, there hasn’t been any sign of a reconciliation since you broke up. Yet, you always try to look good for him.

Although, that’s just who you are. You’d dress up for anyone. But, it’s still different with Yoongi. You especially enjoy his compliments.

The doorbell rang, forcing you to hurry and spritz on the first perfume bottle you touch.

“Don’t open the door! You don’t know who it is!” You warn Naomi, but to no avail.

He’s early today.

Naomi races you to the door, “It’s daddy!” You let her win. You rush to tidy up the living room as you walk to the door.

“You’re so early!” Your daughter clings to his leg. Yoongi laughs and drags his foot in.

“How are my girls feeling?” He smirks at you. “A little troubled now that you’re here.” You bicker.

Yoongi vocalizes a groan, “Why’s mommy so mean to daddy?” He directs it to Naomi.

You smile and wait by the coat hanger stand to receive his jacket.

The apartment feels a little livelier every time he stops by.

“Why are you here so soon? I haven’t even begun cooking yet.” You walk into your kitchen to quickly gather ingredients to prepare a fresh pasta dough.

“No reason.” Yoongi cleared his throat, “Let me help you cook.” You gladly accept his help.

You assign both Nao and Yoongi to make the sauce and the salad.

Soon, your kitchen was filled with the clatter of pots and pans and laughter.

₊˚ ‿︵‿︵୨୧ · · ♡ · · ୨୧‿︵‿︵ ˚₊

After dinner, Naomi spends time watching TV and working on her masterpiece.

In the serene quiet of your kitchen, the clinking of dishes echoed softly as you and Yoongi worked in unison, a familiar rhythm of cleaning up after a shared meal.

The warmth of the evening meal lingered; the comforting ambiance contrasted with the weight of the impending conversation.

Yoongi sighed for the fifth time that evening before you finally asked him, “What is it you wanted to talk about? Is everything okay?”

As you wiped a bowl dry, you stole a glance at Yoongi, noticing the hint of unease in his demeanour. Your heart fluttered with a sense of foreboding, sensing something amiss.

Yoongi paused for a moment; his hands still submerged in soapy water. "I... I have something I need to tell you."

You laughed uneasily, “I know. Spit it out already. You’re worrying me.”

The air around you felt heavier.

You set down the dishcloth, turning to face him, a sense of apprehension settling in.

Yoongi stared back into your eyes.

"I... I'm getting engaged," Yoongi finally uttered, his words hanging heavily in the air.

WHAT?

The world seemed to pause for a moment as you tried to process his words.

Your chest tightened, emotions swirling within you—a mix of surprise, disbelief, and an (un)expected pang of sorrow.

You searched his eyes for reassurance, for any sign of hesitation or doubt.

"Engaged?" Your voice was barely a whisper.

You’re hoping he misspoke. Maybe he’s getting engraved or encased or embraced.

Yoongi nodded, his expression a blend of remorse and an unspoken plea for understanding. "It's been on my mind for a while."

“Has it, now?” You scoffed.

WOW, really?

You didn’t even know he was seeing someone like that.

Even though you’re broken up, you feel cheated on in some way.

“I don’t know what to say.” You deadpan.

Your conversation was interrupted by the distant sound of Naomi's laughter, a stark reminder of the delicate balance you maintained for your daughter's sake.

"I wanted you to know first," Yoongi added softly, his eyes a mosaic of regret and an unspoken apology. One that you don’t want to acknowledge or accept.

Swallowing the lump in your throat, you look down at your floral dishcloth.

You have a lot of questions but you don’t really want answers to all of them.

Yoongi feels ashamed of himself. But he knew he’d have to have this conversation with you someday. The sooner the better. He thoroughly beat himself up for this too.

You excused yourself promptly, “I’ll check on Nao.” Yoongi simply nodded.

Alone in the quiet of the short hallway that connects the kitchen to your living room, you leaned against the wall. A mix of emotions threatened to overwhelm you. You took a deep breath, bracing yourself against the ache in your chest.

₊˚.🎧 ✩｡ in my dreams by red velvet ₊˚.🎧 ✩｡

note: this is a self-indulgent drabble series i'm writing, nothing is planned and i'll just write as i go

i hope u guys enjoy it!

find the series masterlist here.

#fic: slipping through my fingers #yoongi x reader #yoongi fic #yoongi smut #yoongi x oc #yoongi fanfic #bts angst #bts x reader #yoongi x you #min yoongi x reader #suga x reader #suga fic #suga angst #min yoongi smut #min yoongi x you #min yoongi x oc #dilf yoongi

[wildestdreamsblog]

Latibule: II

Pairing: Min Yoongi x Reader (Mafia/Detective AU)

Summary: In which you didn’t know who he truly was- until it was too late. Or in which he found heaven in you.

Warnings: Secret Identity, Yandere behavior, Obsessiveness, Possessiveness, Manipulative behavior, Violence, Mention of death, Disability, Sexual themes, If you’re not 18+ please, PLEASE, do not interact. Be mindful of the warnings. Let me know if I miss anything.

A/N: don’t do tag list my loves. Thank u for showing love to this fic, and also! Leave a comment and reblog

Masterlist, Latibule I

“Who’s that handsome man, dear?” Your elderly neighbor asked you as she peeked over your shoulder to look at the man who just wouldn’t tell you his name. He was trailing behind you, his face showing his apparent displeasure at having to wake up early in the morning. He detested the sun and he glared at the sky like it did him dirty. Who the fuck was sane enough to wake up at five in the morning?

Definitely not him.

You crinkled your nose at your neighbor. Handsome? Sure he was. But his grumpy attitude annoyed you and it did outweigh his good looks. You didn’t even know why you agreed on him staying- not that he asked. Yet when you inquired if he was in danger and he nodded his head, you agreed without another thought.

You wouldn’t turn away someone who was seeking solace.

You knew what it was like.

Additionally, it was as though you didn’t even have a roommate. What you seemed to have acquired was your very own shadow who just wouldn’t leave you alone. In his defense though, he was trying to have a read on you. It didn’t make sense to him that you were living alone. Yoongi wasn’t blind. He could see that you were an attractive woman who somehow had peculiar habits.

Like walking at night in the dark. Or looking at the stars every night without fail. Or the fact that you hadn’t kicked him out despite his unpleasant attitude.

Which you were seriously considering right now.

The man looked at you with brows raised as though anticipating how you would explain his existence in your life to which you merely rolled your eyes and smiled at him with contempt.

“That’s-“ you started as you gestured at him with your arms full of groceries that he never even offered to lift himself, “That’s a full-time problem and the human form of nuisance.”

You offered her a kind smile as she blinked in confusion at what you said. Meanwhile, he looked affronted by what you said.

Him? A nuisance? A full-time problem?

His enemies had insulted him less than you did and they all ended up getting tortured. Yet you had the audacity and courage to call him names that belonged to kindergarten.

Your neighbor frowned, confusion glinting in her eyes. “I’m sorry, dear. I’m afraid I heard you incorrectly.”

“Oh, I said he’s an extremely problemati-“

“Hi, ahjumma,” he walked closer to the two of you, his face painted with a charming smile as he extended his hand to her. Suddenly, he was a different person. This two-faced asshole, you thought to yourself. “I’m her-“

“-problem,” you whispered behind him.

“-her cousi-“

“-her nuisance,” you mumbled behind him once again.

“I’m her first love and I’m here to marry her,” he said with a grin so wide you could see his adorable gummy smile.

Wait. What?

Adorable?

First love?

Marry????

You turned your head so abruptly that your hair whipped on his face as soon as the two of you arrived at your home. You got into his space, your now empty hands pushing him against the door. He couldn’t even defend himself because you forced him to carry the groceries because he should be a good as fuck boyfriend. Yoongi gulped when he met your eyes filled with storm. And strangely, he felt his heart skipped a beat. It never did that- not when he was staring at the barrel of his enemies’ gun, not when he was looking at the chief of police, not when he was literally dying outside your house. Never.

But now that he was looking at your eyes, it strangely skipped a beat. It wasn’t as though he didn’t spend majority of his time observing you, or watching you wander in the dark at night, or following you out in the shadows when you took your evening walks. However, he never really spent time really looking into your eyes. It was only now that he realized your forehead had little sparse of faded wounds.

He tilted his head in perplexity. You were hurt. You were hurt so deep it left a scar…like his.

“What the fuck was that?!” You hissed at the nameless man. You looked up to glare at him only to find him putting the carrot in between the two of you as though in defense. “Did you hit your head during the accident? No, right? So why then did you spew out the worst lie ever known to mankind?!”

He gulped when you stepped closer to him. For someone so small, you sure did have a lot of anger in you. “I merely adjusted to what happened accordingly because what you were about to say would sound suspicious!” He replied in defense, the pack of sugar joining the raised carrot as an added barricade to your anger.

“I was about to say you were my cousin!”

“No. I clearly heard you said I am your problem.”

You nodded, seeing no issue in that. “That, too. A cousin and a problem!”

“Well, now I’m your boyfriend.”

“Fake.”

“Yup,” he agreed with a pop before smiling at you innocently. “Telling her that I’m merely a cousin will be a complication that I do not fucking need. For starters, I look nothing like you.”

You squinted your eyes at him, “Is that an insult?”

He nodded without hesitating. “Yes. Obviously. For starters, I’m prettier than you. Have you seen your skin? Have you seen how white and smooth my skin is?”

Taking the deepest breath known to mankind, you sighed before going straight to your kitchen. “Yes, fine,” you shouted in a deadpanned voice, having enough of this man’s incredulous statement. “You have a good skin. White skin. In fact, your skin is too fair that your name is now Suga.”

His face darkened as soon as you renamed him. He was stalking to the kitchen without any thought ready to fight you. “You will not call me Suga! You do not-“

“Shut your mouth and slice these carrots!”

Yoongi couldn’t sleep. He had always been a light sleeper. Or maybe, he just suffered from insomnia that he was used to staying up all night. Or also, maybe it was because the littlest sound could set him off just like now. These were all why he found it peculiar how he was able to sleep peacefully, albeit injured and fighting for his goddamn life, in your bed a few weeks back. God, he missed sleeping in your bed. The sofa sucked. And he hated it with a vengeance.

He watched you from the sofa he had made his bed. You were walking in the dark once again. Seriously, how difficult was it to turn on the light? Were you that considerate to walk around blindly in the dark just to not wake him up?

He watched you with his feline eyes, following your every movement. You made it seemed that you already memorized every turns in this house, and maybe you did. Yet what you didn’t anticipate was the chair he failed to return at the rightful place and with that, you fell to the ground.

“Fuck,” you whispered as you rubbed you forearm that took the most and painful hit. You almost jumped when light flooded the small living room with Yoongi looking unimpressed as he stood near the switch, his dark hair swept back from his face. From the looks of it, it did not seem like you disturbed his sleep.

“You do know we have electricity, right?” His deep voice asked in a mocking tone. “You know how to turn this on, right? If not I can teach you. You just press this gently or not, depends on your mood, really,” he explained like you were a child, even going so far as conducting a demonstration.

You glared up at him so hard from your position on the floor, wishing that your irritation at him could somehow turn into weapon and disintegrate him. “I know we have electricity because I pay for it!”

He smiled indulgently at you as he nodded his head, “And I thank you for your service. Now,” he trailed off as he walked to you, crouching down and resting his arms on his spread knees. “Does it hurt?”

“Nothing hurts more than looking at you,” you snapped back as he inspected your forearm without asking.

He hummed in agreement. He raised his dark brow when he saw the redness forming on your skin, “I know. It’s because my beauty shines too bright.”

You looked heavenward and groaned at his audacity. You were starting to question what you did wrong in this lifetime that you were burdened with this full-time problem. “What are you doing up at this hour, angel?”

“I was thirsty.”

He rolled his eyes before he unceremoniously pulled you up with him. But then…he was too close. He was so close that your front brushed up against his. So close that you could feel the heat emitting from his body. You spent the first week trying to keep him alive and after that, you spent it regretting your choice.

You really hadn’t looked at him for quite some time now. But now, this close and you could see him- all his perfections and imperfections. This close and you could see how he could looked so menacing, could see the lingering madness in his eyes and the swirling darkness in him.

And then you wondered how he came to be who he was. You wondered what made a man such as him to keep so much anger in him.

And while you were busy analyzing him, he was consumed by you. Notwithstanding his unparalleled intelligence, he did not, for the life of him, take his time to analyze why having you in his proximity calmed the demons in him.

He didn’t take his time to wonder why touching you calmed him. And instead, he opened his mouth to spew out another nonsense to you.

“You’re looking at me like you wish I’m your real fiancée,” he stated in a teasing way. His hand snaked on the small of your back, pulling you abruptly closer to his front. He was smirking as he leaned in, his hot breath tickling your ear. “You wish I was yours, don’t you?”

To which, you kicked his shin and stalked to your room, uncaring of his pained hiss. You locked the door for good measure.

It wasn’t much of a surprise that you woke up hours later with parched throat. Sighing, you opened your bedside lamp only to find a glass of water.

D-did that asshole put it there?

Latibule III

#suga fic #bts fic #yandere bts #bts smut #bts yandere #min yoongi x y/n #min yoongi fic #yandere min yoongi #min yoongi x you #min yoongi x reader #suga x reader #mafia yoongi

[caelesjjk]

Wicked As They Come | myg

⟶ title: Wicked As They Come

⟶ pairing: vampire!yoongi x reporter! f reader

⟶ genres/aus: supernatural au, vampire au, fake dating au, ceo au, romance, smut

⟶ rating: 18+

⟶ wc: 10.7k

⟶ warnings: Yoongi is a bit mean but 😏, dom!yoongi, sub!reader, threats, dirty talk, mentions of blood, biting, blood drinking, blood play, a cheesy staircase scene, a shower scene, smut in the forms of: oral m & f receiving, unprotected sex, rough sex, overstimulation, multiple orgasms

⟶ summary: you’ve been undercover at one of Min Yoongi’s many hotels in the city for the past week. you’re there because of the rumors that have been spreading regarding his vampire employees feeding off of his human guests. what you don’t expect to happen is Min Yoongi discovering your true intentions in his hotel and offering you a very interesting ultimatum: pretend to date the vampire CEO to help appeal to his human guests, or quickly find out just what kind of monster he can really be.

⟶ authors note: I know you all must be so surprised to see me posting since it’s been literal months lol. This fic is part of the To Love A Monster collab that I’m hosting with a bunch of really amazing writers. Please check out their fics as well! I have to give some big shoutouts here: M @here2bbtstrash, thank you for betaing what was obviously a mess and assuring me that it wasn’t complete trash, I so appreciate your help. Also to sav @jeonjcngkook who read it before it was even done to also assure me I wasn’t writing junk. And then to jai @gimmethatagustd for making this amazing banner all those months ago when I thought I wouldn’t procrastinate and get this done sooner lol.

I hope you all enjoy this, it’s mostly porn lol.

You have been sneaking around his hotel for a week trying to put any weight behind the rumors that were circulating.

Min Yoongi was a vampire and a very powerful one. He owns almost every luxury hotel within 500 miles of the city. He employs vampires and humans in his hotels and none of the humans you had been talking to seemed afraid to be here. So why are there rumors the vamps are feeding off humans in his hotels?

You have been unable to find any evidence of the unapproved blood drinking. There is, of course, plenty of approved blood drinking. Humans are paid handsomely to volunteer their blood to the vamps and Min Yoongi almost made a show of how much he paid them.

Your last night in the hotel is supposed to be spent at a masquerade party being held downstairs in the grand room, but ever curious you decided to take a small detour past the kitchens. 

The dress you are wearing was sent to your hotel room with a note that simply stated “can’t wait to finally meet you tonight when you're wearing this.”

At first, you thought it was possibly delivered to your room by mistake. But the dress was exactly your size and fit like it had been made for you. You didn’t have a no clue who would have sent it, but you weren’t the type to turn down expensive gifts.

While taking your last minute detour past the kitchens, you hear something around the corner that quickly catches your attention.

“I don’t want you to if it’s going to hurt, Jimin.” A female voice says in a hushed whisper.

“I would never hurt you, princess. It’s going to feel so good,” a man with silver hair and a ridiculously pretty smile says to the female as you slowly peek around the corner. One of his hands strokes her cheek while the other holds her body against his.

“Do you promise?” Her voice trembles slightly and you’re immediately afraid for her. 

“Of course.” He leans down to kiss her and she seems to melt into him.

There are two things you are absolutely sure about at this moment. 

This man named Jimin is a vampire.

This girl is human and being coerced into letting this vampire bite her even though she is obviously terrified.

You watch as the vampire hikes up the girl's skirt, hitching her leg over his hip. You hadn’t noticed that he had removed his cock from his pants until you saw him slip inside the girl in front of him. 

You can’t look away, but an even bigger part of you wants to see more. She moans his name and Jimin praises her for taking him so well.

Was this really what they had been talking about? Were they talking about fucking and not him drinking her blood?

But while you were distracted by the scene in front of you, watching tears roll down the girl's face when Jimin slammed her back to the wall, you hadn’t realized that someone else was watching you. A hand covers your mouth and an arm wraps around your waist and lifts you off the ground.

“You aren’t supposed to be down here,” a deep voice says against the shell of your ear. You try to scream to no avail, flailing your head around trying to hit them in the face, but they’re too quick.

You keep fighting against them, even as you feel a needle pierce the skin of your neck and a scream leave the mouth of that poor girl around the corner.

“Time to wake up.” You feel someone grip your face in their hand to keep your head up. Your mind feels like a fog has settled inside.

“You probably gave her too much, Namjoon,” a voice says.

“Impossible. I never miscalculate a dose.” 

“Would you two please shut the fuck up,” a deep grumbly voice says from a little further away. “Open your eyes, little monster.”

You force them to flutter open, trying to focus on what’s in front of you through your blurry vision. 

“Where…where am I?” You start to move your limbs; your legs move fine, but your arms are handcuffed behind the back of the chair you’re sitting in. “What the fuck?”

“We need to talk about why you’ve been snooping around my hotel for the past week. And I suggest you not lie to me or I’ll kill you now.” A man dressed in a very expensive suit comes around the front side of the desk he was sitting behind and leans against it.

“If you already know, what’s the point in me telling you anything?” Your vision clears more as you focus on his face: long black hair smoothed back off his forehead and eyes that could see through your soul.

“Humor me.” His voice is suddenly at your ear, sending a shiver down your spine.

“Is this how you treat all of your guests? Cuffing them to chairs and letting your employees drink their blood even though they’re terrified?” You glare at him as you speak. It didn’t take you long to realize that this man is Min Yoongi.

He laughs before placing his hands on the arms of the chair, leaning down until his face is level with yours.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about, little monster.” His voice is low and his smirk is maddening.

“I’m calling the cops as soon as I get the fuck out of here. This is kidnapping.” You struggle against the cuffs to no avail. Yoongi leans down closer, his nose coming down to skim your throat and cause your body to freeze.

“I can smell it on you…the fear. Your heart is pumping too hard. It’s fucking divine.” His tongue ghosts along your skin and no matter how hard you try not to react, goosebumps appear after you shiver. “Does that turn you on, little monster? Knowing I could kill you…bleed you dry on my tongue?”

It does. God it fucking does. It’s so fucked up, but pain…pushing limits…a little bit of fear…you fucking love it.

“No.” You seethe through clenched teeth.

“Liar.” His words are hot against your ear before his inhuman speed takes him back to the other side of his desk in an instant.

“Bastard.” You cross your legs tightly and slump against the chair.

“You have a choice to make, Ms. ______.” Yoongi sits down in his oversized leather chair and leans back with his eyes on you. “I’m in need of a partner. A human one. Someone to make appearances with me and make it look convincing. I need the humans to book my hotels more often. You can either help me do that or I can kill you.”

“Gee, so glad you’ve given me so many options here,” you scoff.

“What will it be then?” His hand cards through his long hair but his attention stays on you.

You realize that this may give you an extra in for your article. You could have insider information about what’s going on in these hotels if you agree. Maybe this isn’t the worst thing that could’ve happened.

“Fine. I agree.” You know the smile on your face probably isn’t as convincing as you want it to be.

“Meet me back here tomorrow night to sign the contract.” Yoongi nods towards the vampires who have been lingering near the door and one of them comes forward to undo your cuffs.

“Perfect.”

“What the hell? You’ve got an entire clause in this thing that says I can’t write any piece of journalism regarding what I see and hear at any time while or after the contract is up? That’s bullshit!” You toss the thick packet of paper back onto his desk.

“I’ll compensate you for any money your magazine would pay you for the article you were going to write about me.” Yoongi says, as if he’s bored to death as he scrolls his phone.

“How much compensation are we talking about here? Because the magazine I’m working for pays pretty decently for pieces like…” Your sentence is cut off by the sound of your phone dinging on the table. You pick it up to see Min Yoongi has deposited $20,000 into your bank account. You choke, almost throwing your phone when you see the number. “You can’t be serious.”

“Now that your compensation is dealt with, is there anything else in the terms you want to discuss?” Namjoon says, steam practically pouring out of his ears. He turns to his boss next. “Or is there any more money you would like to just throw around?” 

You glare at Yoongi, his eyes never leaving you as you reach onto the table and pick the packet of papers back up. He smiles, poking the tip of his tongue against one of his fangs.

Flipping through the rest of the contract, it occurs to you that one thing was never mentioned throughout that ridiculously long document.

“There’s nothing about sex in here.” You skim through a few pages again and Namjoon nearly chokes.

“Should there be?” Yoongi says with amusement in his voice.

“I just assumed…” 

“If you want me to fuck you, little monster, we don’t need a contract for it. Just say that’s what you want.” He leans over the desk, his elbows resting on it.

“Obviously I don’t.” You cross your legs and pretend to look through the contract more.

“Get out,” Yoongi says, black eyes still staring at you.

“Excuse me?” You’re about to go off before he cuts you off.

“Not you.” He turns his eyes to Namjoon who was apparently pretending there was something more interesting on his phone. “You. Get out of my office.”

“Asshole,” Namjoon mumbles as he shoves his chair back and, quicker than any human ever could, rushes out of the door and leaves it slamming behind him.

“What is your problem? Why did you tell him to leave?” 

“My problem is that you’re lying to me. So I’ll give you one last chance to tell the truth. Do you want to be fucked?” He starts to loosen the tie around his neck while standing up slowly from his desk.

“Why do you assume that I want you to fuck me?” Your mouth feels dry as you grip the arms of your chair.

“Does your cunt usually get ridiculously wet when you don’t want to be fucked?” He stops in front of you, the silky black neck tie sliding between his long fingers.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.” 

“No? So if I got my fingers between your legs I wouldn’t find you dripping?”

“It wouldn’t be because of you.” You tighten your jaw and lift your nose slightly into the air in defiance. “Maybe I thought your lawyer was hot.” 

Yoongi has never looked more wicked than he does at this moment. It’s like any kind of mask he was wearing to hide the monster has slipped away, his eyes suddenly the color of blood and fangs elongated while he grips the arms of the chair you’re sitting in, crushing them in his hands. The suddenness of it all makes you yelp in surprise.

“Don’t forget who you’re talking to with that smart fucking mouth, little monster.” One of Yoongi’s hands lifts from the rubble of the chair arms so he can drag a finger up your chest. Even without his inhuman abilities, you know he can hear your heart.

You should be terrified. You are terrified. But you should be trying to get away. Fight him off of you. But you just want more. Want him to bend you over his desk and show you the monster he can truly be.

His wandering finger makes its way over your pulse thrumming in your neck, making him groan low and deep in his chest. But he doesn’t stop there; he keeps his torturously slow pace until the finger is resting on your chin just beneath your lips.

“Open,” he demands, the red of his eyes slowly retreating back to their normal dark color.

You decide not to argue this time, parting your lips just enough for him to slip his finger into the hot cavern of your mouth.

“Suck, little monster, like it’s my cock I know you’re dying to choke on.” He presses the long digit against your tongue, tilting his head to the side as he watches your lips wrap around his finger.

You suck gently at first, running your tongue along its length until you can taste the metal of the very expensive ring on his finger. You lift your eyes to meet his, desperate to see how it’s affecting him.

“You can do better, can’t you, beautiful?” His other hand cups your chin and tilts it up more before he pulls his finger from your mouth. “Well?”

You watch as he leans against his desk, spreading his legs slightly as he presses his palms to the top of the dark wood.

It only takes you a moment to realize what he’s suggesting, and then you’re sliding from the leather chair you’re sitting in down to your knees on the floor in front of him. You can tell he’s half hard already when you come face to face with his crotch.

“This doesn’t mean anything.” Your voice sounds strained and unfamiliar. Yoongi smirks, a small laugh slipping out.

“Don’t worry, little monster. Out there you can be my well put together princess. But here, you’re my whore.” He growls the last part, one of his fangs poking into his bottom lip as he watches you undo his belt and zipper.

You hate how hard your pussy clenches at his words. How much you’re craving exactly what you’re getting. It’s stupid. So, so stupid.

Running your hands up his thighs, you slip your fingers into the band of his underwear and pants, sliding them down to free his waiting cock. And of course it’s perfect. His cocky demeanor is well backed up by the size of the dick in your face alone. Your mouth waters.

“There will be plenty of time for you to gawk, but right now you should really start sucking.” His fingers lace into your hair and lightly grip at the back of your head. You roll your eyes at him, but take his cock into your hand anyways.

His skin is cool to the touch but still flushed as you stroke him. A hum of approval comes from above you. You look up again, taking him into your mouth and making sure to hold eye contact as you do.

Your tongue swirls around him while your head bobs slowly up and down his long shaft. His grip in your hair tightens each time you take him a little deeper into your throat.

“Good girl, fuck,” Yoongi groans, grabbing the bottom of his button up shirt and pulling it up to his chest so that he can see everything that you’re doing.

Closing your eyes for a moment, you let your throat relax and take him all the way down until your nose presses against his lower stomach. The groan you receive in return is nothing short of delicious.

“I could tell from the moment I saw you watching Jimin fuck that girl downstairs that you were going to be the sweetest little slut.” He grips your hair hard, making you yelp around his cock. “And I was so fucking right.” Yoongi uses your hair as leverage to start rocking his hips and fucking into your mouth.

This is exactly what you want. You want him to use you and say dirty things. Your pussy has been clenching around nothing and dripping all over your thighs the entire time. You open your mouth as wide as you can and let him corrupt your throat, holding on to the backs of his thighs for dear life.

“How badly do you want my cum, little monster?” His voice is breathy and full of lust.

Unable to answer him with your mouth occupied, you slide your hands up to his ass cheeks and dig your nails in, making him jolt further down your throat. God you want it so badly.

“Fuck, that’s so good. So fucking good.” Yoongi releases his grip on your hair and lets you bob your head up and down him again to finish him off. 

You bring a hand around to stroke him in tandem with your mouth, squeezing at the head on each upstroke. You watch above you as his head finally falls back with a loud moan, his hand on the back of your head to hold you down as he cums down your throat.

He didn’t have to hold you there, you were gladly going to take it all, but it’s obvious this vampire loves control. So you continue to suck softly until he’s finished and pulls his cock from your lips.

You take in a deep breath when he releases you, falling forward slightly but catching yourself on your hands.

“Let me see,” Yoongi grumbles.

“See what?” you say, out of breath. He doesn’t answer, simply grabs your chin and yanks you back up to look at him. 

“Open your mouth,” he demands and you obey. “Good girl. I like to see that it’s all been swallowed down your perfect throat.” He releases your chin, extending his hand for you to take to help you up.

As you stand on wobbly legs, you’re surprised by the sudden gentleness from the man who was fucking your throat raw just moments ago. Yoongi helps you straighten your clothes and then moves on to his own, fixing his pants back into place as if the whole thing hadn’t just happened.

“Are you going to put sex in the contract now?” you ask, genuinely curious. Yoongi laughs quietly as he rounds the other side of his desk.

“If you’d prefer it be in writing I can have Namjoon add it in.”

“That…might be best.” You don’t know why. Maybe to give yourself the illusion that this isn’t something you’re more than willing to do.

“As you wish.” He sits back in his chair and watches as you head for his door. “And little monster?”

“Yes?” You almost jump at the sound of his voice again.

“A member of my staff will be taking you shopping and helping you get settled into my penthouse in the next few days.” 

“Your penthouse? I don’t remember living together being in the contract.”

“We have to make this as believable as possible. And I want to keep you close.” He opens his laptop, ignoring the surprised look on your face.

“Possessive much?” You glare at him, arms crossing over your chest. He hums with a smirk.

“Only when it comes to things that are mine.” His words send a shiver down your spine, and in that moment you aren’t sure if it’s out of lust or fear.

You don’t respond further, slipping out of his office so that you can breathe again.

“Was all of this truly necessary?” you ask.

“Yoongi said you were to get everything you wanted.” Jungkook shrugs his shoulders as he types into his phone.

Jungkook had come to your hotel room three days after you’d left Yoongi’s office. He’s apparently Yoongi’s assistant, and lucky for you, is much friendlier than his boss. He had other staff collect your things from your room and take them to Yoongi’s penthouse before rushing you out the door to shop.

“Yes, but you literally bought everything I even glanced at twice.” There are bags covering the entire floor of the elevator you’re riding up in, and the hotel attendants will be bringing tons more up from the car.

“Don’t overthink it. Just enjoy being the spoiled brat that you are for a few months,” Jungkook teases, making you roll your eyes with a laugh.

The elevator dings, signaling your arrival at the very top floor of the hotel. Your stomach twists as the thought of living here with Yoongi finally dawns on you. This is a ridiculous idea.

“Welcome home!” Jungkook shouts, scaring you for a moment. 

You step out into the entryway of the penthouse, immediately overwhelmed by the beautiful set up. The entire far wall is windows, of course: it wouldn’t be a penthouse without ceiling to floor windows. But the way the sun is setting outside is breathtaking to see from this high up.

You move a little further inside, taking in the black leather couches and oversized fireplace in the living room area. Fur carpets cover the dark wood floors and abstract pieces of art sit on almost every table. 

It’s an open concept, the kitchen taking up the other half of the first floor. Though you aren’t sure why a vampire would need a kitchen with their…special diet. It has lights that drop down low from the ceiling and a huge island with tons of seating. Does Min Yoongi enjoy entertaining guests? You can barely imagine it.

“Boss should be back soon. Want me to wait with you?” Jungkook says, still typing away into his phone. He’s rather sweet for a vampire.

“I’ll be fine, Jungkook.” You give him a small smile as you wrap your arms around yourself. “And thank you for today.”

“My pleasure. You’ve got my number, anything you need just give me a call.” He looks up at you, then inhumanly fast is out the door. How will you ever get used to that?

You decide to look a little closer at the kitchen, letting your fingertips ghost over the black marble countertops. Making your way to the fridge, you open its huge doors to find it fully stocked with food.

“What the fuck?” you mumble to yourself. Why did he need all of this food? 

Before you close the doors, a bottle of wine on the top shelf catches your eye and you grab it before spinning around to face the kitchen island and search for a corkscrew.

What you don’t expect to see is Min Yoongi standing on the other side of the island, watching you carefully.

“Holy shit!” you screech, your heart lurching in your chest. “Can you please make some noise when you enter a room? Jesus.”

“Making yourself at home, little monster?” He smirks, likely loving the fact that you almost had a heart attack.

“I was just looking around.” You sit the bottle of wine down and lean over the counter, resting your elbows on the marble. “Is that okay?” You know that your cleavage is pushed up by the way you're bent over and you definitely did it on purpose.

“You’re welcome to look around.” He drums his long fingers against the countertop. “I’ve got nothing to hide from you.” You scoff.

“No bodies hidden in the closets? A coffin in your bedroom perhaps?” You reach up and carefully take a wine glass down from the rack hanging above the kitchen island.

“This isn’t the dark ages, little monster. The sun being a problem for vampires is something of the past.” He shrugs out of his suit jacket and drapes it over the chair next to him.

“It seems vampires evolve very quickly.” You say it casually, hoping he will spill information that most humans don’t know; information that you can use when you write an article exposing everything about them.

“Curious little thing, aren’t you?” He loosens his tie while slowly stalking towards you around the counter.

“It’s my job to be curious.” You try to pretend that him coming closer doesn’t affect you by pouring the wine into the glass you retrieved.

“Do you think you’re going to find a loophole in my contract? Something that would allow you to write your article? Foolish…” Yoongi wraps his tie around his palm and continues his slow movements towards you. Your stomach tightens, wondering when he’s going to get sick of you and kill you where you stand.

“We don’t need to talk about the article. It’s obviously not happening.” You take a drink, the sweet white liquid enticing your taste buds.

“Your heart gives you away.”

“What?” You’re taken aback by his words, taking them in a way he didn’t mean.

“It’s picked up speed. Almost a thrum. You’re lying…but that’s okay. You want to be brave, then go ahead. But I’m not your enemy, little monster.” He moves too quickly for a moment, coming too close all at once, causing you to drop your wine glass on the floor.

The glass shatters against the tile floor, the wine spreading out and filling into the space between the tiles. You don’t even think about your next move, bending down and immediately starting to pick up the shards of glass. 

“Sorry…” you start to say, nicking your palm on a piece of glass in your rush to scoop them up. “Fuck, that hurts. Could you hand me a rag?” You don’t look up at first, but when Yoongi doesn’t say anything, you get impatient. 

What you see is the monster you know you shouldn’t want so desperately.

His eyes are red and raging as he grips the counter top with one of his hands, the marble starting to crumble between his fingers.

“Get the fuck up.” Yoongi struggles but manages to get the words out between gritted teeth.

“What?” You scoot back across the floor, trying to put space between you. You watch as his hands shove into his hair, pulling at the long black strands as he makes pained groaning noises at the floor.

With that inhuman speed, Yoongi leans down and grabs your wrist, blood still leaking from the cut on your palm. The grip on your wrist is so hard you’re afraid he might break your bones.

“Yoongi, you’re hurting me. Let go,” you practically whimper as he drags you up from the floor and shoves you against the side of the island. “Stop. Please don’t…” 

You know that if he wanted to kill you, he would have by now. He could have drained you dry and no one would ever know to even look for you here. But the fear makes you feel alive. It makes your heart hammer and your pussy clench. What the fuck is wrong with you?

Yoongi grabs your wrist again, making you yelp in surprise. He stares at it for a moment, intently watching your blood slide down your skin. He closes his eyes before making his final decision.

You decide to close your eyes too, not sure if you want to see what could happen next.

To your surprise, what you feel is the warm, wet muscle of his tongue licking along the inside of your wrist up to your palm. Your eyes shoot open immediately, meeting his ruby colored orbs.

“I want to kill you,” he whispers against the skin of your wrist, lapping at the blood once more.

“I know,” you whisper back.

“Why does that make your pussy wet, little monster?” He smiles wickedly before his lips attach to the cut on your palm, sucking gently. You can’t help the moan that slips past your lips as you watch your blood coat his mouth and run down his chin.

“I…I don’t know.” You reach out with your other hand to grab onto his shirt and anchor yourself to something.

“All of that insolence seems to disappear when your pussy is getting what it wants.” He licks one more long stripe up your wrist before he pulls away, his eyes in the beginning stages of returning to their normal dark.

“You haven’t given me anything that I want.” You yank your wrist out of his hold, rubbing at the bruise marks already appearing. Yoongi rolls his eyes, grasping your shoulders and turning you around to walk you towards the sink. He turns on the water and motions for you to put your hand underneath it.

You turn your back to him, washing your hand under the warm water until it seems to stop bleeding heavily. You start to reach for a towel before you feel his chest against your back, his arms suddenly caging you against the counter in front of the sink.

“Why don’t you tell me what it is you want then, hm?” His breath against your ear sends a shiver down your spine. “I can smell every bit of desire between your legs.” His knee comes up between your legs, making you brace yourself on the counter at the sudden pressure he’s putting against your pussy.

“Touch me…and don’t stop.” Your body shakes in anticipation. Yoongi chuckles in your ear, his tongue finding the lobe.

“You’ll take what I give you…and you’ll be fucking grateful.” His sharp fangs nip at your ear and cause your ass to press harder into his crotch. You don’t care what he wants to give you at this point, you’re too desperate.

“Please,” you whine.

“I’m feeling benevolent this evening…you sucked my cock so well the other day that I may even let you cum.” He presses his cock against your ass before pulling away from you all together.

“Asshole.” You scowl as you turn around to face him. Yoongi merely looks amused.

“I’m still hungry, little monster. Get on the counter.” He pats the marble top with his hand while he undoes the top few buttons of his shirt with the other.

“Why?”

“Are you always going to ask so many questions or are you just going to fucking listen?” He cards a hand through his long raven colored hair and sighs, drenched in annoyance.

“Fine.” You roll your eyes, walking towards him where he stands by the kitchen island. Before you even have a chance to call him more names, he’s grabbing you by the hips and practically tossing you onto the counter. “Fuck, Yoongi, can you try not to break me?” 

“Where's the fun in that?” He smirks, coming to stand between your thighs, your face just above his from this height. “I think you may even beg me for it.” His voice is low, a rumble in his chest as he watches your face.

You want to reach up and push some of the stray hairs away from his face. But that would mean you have some kind of affection towards this vampire and you can’t let that happen. It’s almost painful to keep your hands at your sides.

“Get on with it then.” Your lips just barely ghost his when you speak, yet another thing you have to keep yourself from wanting.

Too quickly, your back is suddenly pressed against the cold marble countertop when Yoongi grabs your thighs and pulls your ass to the edge. You yelp when his lips press to the inside of your thigh. 

“Maybe the human men you’ve slept with like that smart mouth of yours, little monster.” He shoves your skirt up over your hips, long fingers immediately finding your slit over your panties. “But me? It makes me want to devour you.”

You moan and don’t hold back the sound, shivering when you feel his fangs pressing against your skin. He sucks a trail up your thigh, leaving small blossoms in his wake. When you feel his tongue languidly slide over the outside of your panties, you almost come undone right there.

“Please don’t tease me anymore. I’m so wet already.” He licks at you again before raising his head to look at you. 

“Be a good girl and take what I give you.” His hand reaches between your thighs and, with no effort at all, rips your underwear from your body in a single motion.

You don’t have time to be snarky again before his face is buried in your pussy. Your back arches off the counter, fingers gripping at the marble to no avail.

The long muscle of his tongue swirls around your clit before expertly diving back down inside you, licking up every bit of wetness that leaks from you. The world feels as if it’s tilting on its axis, that feeling of falling clouding your mind when you start to feel the urge to cum after such a short period of time.

“You’re going to give me at least three, so stop holding back and let me have what’s mine.” The rough grumble of his voice vibrates straight to your core as the pad of his thumb strokes your clit and his tongue disappears back inside you.

“Oh fuck,” you whine, chest heaving as your first orgasm wracks through you like a hurricane on a path of destruction with no end in sight.

“Your cum tastes almost as good as your blood, little monster. Again.” His long fingers slide inside you easily as your body shakes from being over-sensitive.

“Feels so good.” Your hands take on a mind of their own and make their way into the long, messy strands of his hair, gripping at the roots and pulling him closer.

“Greedy.” Yoongi sucks harshly on your clit, letting it pop from between his lips before he soothes it with his tongue.

“Asshole,” you moan, feeling your second orgasm hurtling towards you. Yoongi laughs quietly against the inside of your thigh.

“You like the pain. Stop pretending that you don’t.” He nips at your skin with his fangs, making you flinch. “You just gushed on my tongue.”

“I can’t go again, Yoongi. I need to stop.” You can feel sweat dripping from your forehead, your skin hot to the touch.

“You can and you will.” His arms wrap tightly around your thighs and yank you back to the edge of the counter, your sweaty skin squeaking across the surface.

Your body is telling you to scream. The pleasure and the discomfort are dancing a fine line and your head is absolutely swimming. You begin to think that you may not live through this when his mouth is back on your abused pussy.

Yoongi throws your legs over his shoulders and licks deeper than he had been before, the bottom half of his face drenched in everything leaking from you through the past two orgasms.

“Bite me,” you beg. You know if he bites you that it will intensify everything you feel, but also bring the possibility that the monster consuming your pussy kills you.

Yoongi practically rips himself from you, his breathing ragged and rushed.

“Don’t ask for things that you don’t understand.” His long fingers find your swollen clit while the other hand swipes across his mouth.

“Please…please I can’t cum again without it.” Tears start to slip down your face.

“I could kill you. It would be so fucking easy.” His eyes start to turn red, the crimson bleeding into his dark irises.

“It’s worth the risk, isn’t it? Please…” You’re so desperate you have no idea what you’re saying. Yoongi scoffs.

“You really are a little monster, aren’t you?” Yoongi smiles, his fangs elongating. Your heart beats so fast, somewhat with fear but mostly with the anticipation of what you’ll feel when he bites you.

In a flash, the vampire between legs is sinking his teeth into the inside of your thigh. You gasp, all the air leaving your lungs as your eyes fly open, the light fixtures on the ceiling blurring. You grab at your breasts when a sudden flood of heat starts to spread through your entire body.

Your body jolts when Yoongi takes the first long drag of your blood into his mouth. He moans at the taste, his hands gripping your hips in a bruising hold. 

Another long pull of blood floods into his mouth and you start to see stars. Yoongi moves one hand back to your pussy, his fingers gathering wetness and spreading it up to your swollen clit. 

“Yoongi…” You’re so light headed you aren’t sure if you can keep your eyes open much longer. Yoongi rips his mouth from your thigh, his chest heaving, blood dripping off his chin and down his neck where it stains the white collar of his shirt.

“Good girl. You’re doing so well, baby.” He pushes you back further onto the counter before climbing onto it himself. 

You can feel the warmth of your blood coating your skin on your thigh, but the only other thing you’re desperately aware of is him. Him and the way he rips your dress off your body as if it wasn’t extremely expensive and brand new.

“I’m so close.” Everything between your legs aches but your greedy body still wants more.

“I’m going to keep you, little monster. You’re mine now.” He licks the inside of your thigh, dragging his tongue through the blood. “Say it.”

“Yours,” you sigh, his fingers gathering up the blood on your skin and spreading over one of your breasts.

“I’ll make you cum now, little monster. Good girls get what they need.” His sinful mouth attaches to your breast, licking and sucking the blood. 

You arch up from the counter top, pushing your breast further into his mouth and spreading your legs wider when his fingers make their way back inside you, petting your walls and stroking your g-spot until he’s making you cum again. 

Your cheeks are wet from tears and your body is weak from losing blood and orgasming a ridiculous amount of times. But somehow you manage to sit up on your elbows when Yoongi slides back off of the counter, wiping his mouth and licking his fingers clean of your juices and blood.

“You’re quite divine, even if you constantly test my patience.” He puts a hand out for you to take. When you do, he helps you down from the counter. “Let’s shower.”

“You want to shower with me?” Your legs wobble as you stand and Yoongi rolls his eyes.

“I need to make sure you don’t collapse while you’re in there. Don’t overthink it.” He looks around at the floor still covered in glass and the countertop covered in your blood. “I’ll have someone clean this up while we get you cleaned up.”

“Is it a normal occurrence for the cleaning staff to casually clean up blood?” You stumble a bit when you try to take a step. Yoongi pinches the bridge of his nose in annoyance.

“So many questions.” 

“You could’ve picked any human to be your fake girlfriend, I’m sure there are plenty of them that wouldn’t ask questions.” You take another wobbly step. Yoongi sighs behind you, moving too fast for your eyes as he scoops you up into his arms. Your eyes have no time to adjust before you’re in the bathroom.

“Don’t make me regret that decision, little monster,” he whispers against the shell of your ear, carefully sitting you down onto a chaise lounge chair.

“Why is this here?” you ask, hands sliding over the soft material.

“Perhaps I’ll show you some time.” He smiles wickedly, turning away from you to turn on the water inside the giant shower. Water pours down like a waterfall from the ceiling.

You take a moment to appreciate the incredible shower before your eyes find Yoongi again, his fingers still stained with your blood nimbly beginning to unbutton his shirt and revealing the smooth planes of his chest and stomach. It’s the first time you’ve really had a moment to appreciate the details of his body.

Your eyes fall on the crotch of his pants, still tented and tight.

“Do you want me to…” you motion towards his obvious hard on.

“No. Not tonight.” He holds out his hand for yours again. “Come here.” You let him wrap his fingers around yours, helping you to your feet. He makes sure that you’re steady before walking you into the shower.

Yoongi stands back, watching you walk under the steaming waterfall and removing his pants as he does. He commits the shape of your body to memory, eager to continue defiling it every chance that he gets.

You don’t hear him approach, your skin merely explodes in goosebumps when the cool skin of his hands and arms wraps around your torso from behind you. His face finds the crook of your neck, lips seeking out your throat and up to your jaw. It’s surprisingly…soft.

“Does it hurt?” he murmurs against your ear, fingers ghosting at your lower stomach. Cool lips kiss your shoulder.

“Just sore.” You turn your head and meet his eyes when he lifts his head. “I’ll be fine.”

Looking at him in that moment makes you suddenly realize that you’ve never kissed Yoongi. Maybe he wants it that way. Kissing is intimate and this is supposed to be an arrangement with no feelings involved.

He looks at you a moment longer before he clears his throat, his arms leaving your body as he kneels down in front of you.

“What are you doing?” Your eyes widen.

“Relax, little monster. I’m going to make it better. Hold onto my shoulders.” He waits until you do as he asks before he carefully lifts your legs, turning your inner thigh towards his face. 

Blood still slowly seeps from the puncture wounds he left behind, bruises forming around them. Yoongi looks up to meet your eyes once more, holding them as he sticks out his tongue and presses it to your thigh, swiping up the blood before he drags it over the punctures. 

Shivering at the feeling, you watch as the bite marks seal themselves closed and the bruising quickly fades from your skin. It’s as if nothing had ever happened.

“That trick must get a lot of attention at parties.” You try to laugh at your own joke, but you’re honestly so taken aback by what just happened in front of you. Yoongi smiles, a real one that you aren’t sure you’ve seen until now.

“Vampire venom has healing properties. I’m not a fan of the idea of you being uncomfortable in any way.” He presses a kiss to your thigh, then stands from the shower floor.

He helps you wash your body and hair, rubbing your scalp and shoulders until you almost fall asleep standing up. 

“Come to bed.” You suddenly realize that you’re no longer in the shower, but in Yoongi’s bedroom, a fluffy black towel wrapped around your body.

“Why am I in your room?” you ask, confused.

“Because you’re sleeping in my bed. With me.” He throws back the comforter and pats the mattress. “In the bed, little monster.”

“Why am I sleeping in here? Surely you have spare rooms in this ridiculously big penthouse.” The idea of Yoongi wanting you to sleep in bed with him feels strange.

“Of course there are, but you’re staying in my room. Stop asking questions for the night, I beg you.” He rubs his temple as he walks towards his closet, reappearing a literal second later with sleep pants on. “Sleep in this if you want.” He tosses a tshirt towards you and you barely manage to catch it.

“But I don’t…” you start to protest again and Yoongi is suddenly in front of you, his hand covering your mouth. 

“I want you to sleep in here. You’re mine and that’s all the explanation I’ll be giving you. No. More. Questions.” When you nod in understanding, he slowly moves his hand down and holds your jaw. “Get into bed.”

You nod again and he releases you, walking around to the other side of the bed. Yoongi settles with his back against the headboard, watching as you drop your towel and slip on the T-shirt he had given you.

“Are all vampires as possessive as you?” You glare at him playfully as you climb into the bed.

“What did I just say about questions, _____?” He throws his hands up in the air.

“Fine. Goodnight.” You dramatically grab the comforter and pull it over you, turning to face away from him. You hear him laugh quietly before the bed shifts once more and sleep grabs hold of you faster than it ever has.

Weeks go by.

The arrangement becomes easier and easier to do. 

Yoongi brings you to parties and meetings and formal dances, dressing you up in the most gorgeous and expensive outfits. He gets you anything that you want and all you have to do is talk about how amazing he is to all of his human investors and guests.

He keeps you close, doesn’t let you wander too far. His cool hand is always at the small of your back. 

The possessiveness is something you thought you would find annoying. He explained it’s just in a vampire's nature to be that way. But it’s easy to just let it happen when deep down, you love it.

God there really is something wrong with you.

Yoongi being possessive, however, is not the biggest problem you’ve had over the last few weeks. The problem is that he refuses to fuck you.

There’s plenty of other things to keep the edge off. Using his mouth to possess you in an entirely different way. He buries his face between your legs every chance that he gets. In his office…on top of his desk…in every dark corner he can find. You repay the favor when he lets you, letting him use your throat as his own personal fuck toy. But it isn’t enough, and he brushes you off every time you try to bring it up.

Tonight is an extremely important night. Yoongi is throwing a party to celebrate the grand opening of his newest hotel. There will be hundreds of people in attendance that need to be impressed. 

“Are you almost ready?” Yoongi’s deep voice startles you as you stand in front of the vanity mirror in his bathroom.

“Just finishing up.” You pop in your second very large emerald earring before picking up the matching necklace. It’s the heaviest piece of jewelry you’ve ever felt.

“Can I help with that?” He comes to stand behind you, holding out his hand for the necklace.

“Thanks.” You carefully place it in his palm and turn back to the mirror, watching his face intently.

“You understand how important this night is, don’t you?” His breath tickles the back of your neck as he speaks. “How badly I need it to go well?”

“I know.” His eyes meet yours in the mirror as he carefully brings the chain around your throat.

“Good girl.” His lips meet your shoulder, pressing a too-soft kiss to your already heated skin.

“You’re going to have to talk eventually.” Your eyes fall shut when his hands come around and cup your breasts from behind.

“I find it amusing that you think I owe you any kind of explanation for what I do or don’t do to you, little monster.” He pinches your nipples through the thin material of your dress, making you hiss through your teeth and lean further into him.

“Just tell me why you won’t fuck me, Yoongi. It’s been weeks.” You grind your ass against his growing erection.

“We’ll discuss this later. The car is waiting downstairs.” A scrape of his fangs across your shoulder before the feeling of his body against your back is gone.

“Asshole,” you grumble, straightening your dress and smoothing any hair that may have moved out of place. 

He waits for you at the top of the stairs, offering his hand to help you walk down them in your heels. You brush past him, taking on the challenge unassisted and making Yoongi scoff.

The universe has other plans for you though, not allowing you even a single moment of holding your head up high before you trip on the edge of one of the stairs. It happens so quickly that you don’t even have time to make a sound.

There are arms abruptly wrapped around you, too quick for your human eyes to make sense of. The next thing you know, your back is being shoved against the railing, bent, with a vampire looming over you, his nose pressing to yours while his lips ghost just above you.

“Do you have a death wish, little monster?” Yoongi whispers, his hold on you tightening.

“I’m sorry…that was so…” You can’t think straight, let alone comprehend what just happened.

“Stupid? Yes, so very stupid.” One of his hands leaves your back and makes its way into your hair, pulling the strands to make you look up at him. “Do not ever endanger yourself that way again. I can’t be around all the time to keep you alive.”

“Okay.” You nod, lips brushing his in the motion. You shudder at their cool sensation. But when you move to try and kiss him, he immediately pulls back.

“Come on. We’re late.” When he offers his hand this time, you take it, letting him usher you into the penthouse elevator and down to the lobby. His bodyguards get the two of you into the car in a blur.

Yoongi doesn’t say a word in the car. He doesn’t even look at you the entire way to the new hotel. It’s fucking infuriating.

Once inside the hotel, you immediately grab a glass of champagne off of a passing tray, downing it quickly before you feel the familiar pressure of Yoongi’s hand on your lower back.

“Easy, little monster,” he says lowly. You roll your eyes, plastering on a fake smile and joining him to talk to some very rich humans.

“I don’t think we’ve met.” A tall man in a pristine suit and glasses says when you join them. He is incredibly handsome.

“Taehyung, this is my girlfriend, Y\N. Y/N, Kim Taehyung. He’s giving me a hard time about investing in my hotels.” Yoongi’s fingers gently stroke your bare back exposed from your dress. 

“Girlfriend? A human?” Taehyung asks curiously.

“100% human,” you laugh, nervously gesturing towards yourself.

“Wouldn’t have imagined such a pairing. Especially for you, Yoongi.” Taehyung sips his whiskey, his eyes staying on you even as he speaks to Yoongi. You’re too busy trying to laugh at everything he says to notice the way Yoongi’s jaw tightens.

“Yes, well, sometimes humans can be rather surprising. Tolerable even.” Yoongi looks at Taehyung like he wants to drain him, while everyone else standing there laughs at what Yoongi has said.

“Indeed.” Taehyung sips his whiskey again. 

“We should make our rounds, baby.” Yoongi runs his finger under your chin, bringing your eyes up to his. “Come,” he whispers, only loud enough for you to hear. You bite your bottom lip, nodding as you thread your fingers through his.

“I hope to see you again soon, _____,” Taehyung calls from behind the two of you. Yoongi starts to turn around but you pull him back.

“Don’t. He’s trying to get under your skin.” 

“I could snap his neck…sever his throat…” Yoongi loosens his tie a little, pulling your hand to continue walking towards the outdoor balcony.

“You need him, don’t you? Just think about that.” 

“He makes the best gambling games in the damn country, of course I need him.” He runs a hand through his long hair, the strands of it even longer now than they were when you had first met him all those weeks ago.

“So let it go,” you sigh, releasing his hand when the two of you are alone outside. “I don’t know why you care anyways.” 

“I didn’t say I cared.”

“You were acting like a jealous prick back there. Seems like you might care a little.” You fold your arms over your chest, cool night air chilling your skin.

“I don’t, you ridiculously infuriating woman,” he half-laughs, pressing his palms to the stone wall that overlooks the hotel courtyard.

“Yeah, well, I don’t care about you either.” You’re practically pouting but you don’t care.

He groans, his fingers cracking the stone beneath them. You want to close the distance between the two of you, touch his chin and make him look at you.

“Why is it so hard for you to say?” you ask quietly.

“We’re talking about feelings here, little monster. I don’t do feelings,” he lies. You roll your eyes.

“Fine. I’ll go see if Taehyung wants to spin me around the dance floor a few…” you start to say, heading towards the door. You’re cut off by Yoongi grabbing the back of your neck and spinning you back around to face him. Your body presses to his, molding to the shape.

“You. Are. Mine,” he practically growls, a deep snarl on his face as he tries to keep the monster at bay. 

But you aren’t afraid.

“Then act like it. Show me that you want me or let me walk away.” Your breaths come out rushed and uneven as the two of you stand there, nose to nose.

He thinks for a moment. Almost too long. But then he smirks, his grip on the back of your neck softening slightly. 

“You’re not getting away that easily, little monster.” And then his mouth is crashing against yours, consuming, devouring.

You’ve thought about what it would be like to kiss Yoongi for weeks. You knew that you shouldn’t, but that didn’t stop you from imagining what he tasted like or how his lips felt.

The way he kisses you now is so incredibly unexpected, you have to remind yourself what planet you’re on. 

It only takes a moment for you to respond, pulling him closer and molding your mouth to his, filling in the spaces with your tongues. It’s when your fingers find their way into his hair that you really begin to grasp that there’s no coming back from this. There’s no more pretending.

Your thoughts are shaken when his hands travel to the backs of your thighs, lifting you onto the stone wall of the balcony. You grip him tighter, afraid to look behind you and see the ground looming below.

“What’s wrong? You aren’t afraid of heights are you, little monster?” he teases, shoving himself between your legs and scooting you even closer to the edge of the wall.

“Anyone would be afraid of a two story drop.” You try to capture his lips again, anything to stop thinking about the possibility of falling, but he pulls back just enough to keep you wanting.

“As if I’d let you fall.” Yoongi whispers the words so quietly you barely hear them, his eyes staying on your lips.

“Maybe I already am.” You feel him stiffen, his body going rigid at your words.

“Don’t say things like that.”

“Why?”

“Stupid, stupid girl,” he sighs. “There’s too much good in you…too much humanity for you to be talking that way.”

“You don’t get to decide that.”

He stares at you for what seems like hours, gauging what could really be going through that head of yours. Then he gently kisses you again, melting away any facade either of you were trying to keep playing.

“We’re leaving,” he says after a moment of soft kisses.

“But we just got here. What about all the schmoozing we need to be doing?” 

“Screw the schmoozing. I want to fuck you.” He takes one of your hands and brings it between your bodies, helping you to cup his hardening dick through his pants. “This is what you want, isn’t it, little monster? So desperate to be filled with cock.”

You whimper, licking the seam of his lips with your tongue as you palm his cock, thoughts of literally anyone who looks out the window seeing the two of you out here turning you on even more.

“Take me home, please.” You’re no longer above begging.

“I’m going to leave you in ruins.” Yoongi means for it to be a threat, something to deter you from wanting this, but it only makes you wetter. The thrill and the danger and the possibility of devastation that making this choice could cause only make you want it more.

Yoongi grabs your wrist, walking with determination until you’re back inside the party where Namjoon immediately sees the two of you making your way through the crowd.

“Yoongi, what the fuck? There’s people looking for you.” Namjoon steps in front of Yoongi but it doesn’t stop him from his mission to get to the front door.

“Tell them I’m sick.” Yoongi opens the door, presses a kiss to the top of your hand and guides you outside. You can’t help the ridiculous smile that finds its way onto your face.

“Vampires don’t get sick.” Namjoon pinches the bridge of his nose. “Are you really going to do this to me?”

“I’ll make it up to you.” Yoongi guides you down the front steps of the hotel, your eyes landing on Jungkook at the bottom, leaning against the car and playing a game on his phone.

“What’s going on?” Jungkook asks, panic crossing his usually soft features.

“It’s okay, Jungkook. We just need the car.” You pat his shoulder reassuringly while Yoongi opens the door for you to settle into the passenger seat. You’re about to grab your seatbelt when he leans down into the car and kisses you. “What was that for?”

“It may be the last bit of sweetness you get from me tonight. Enjoy it while you can.” His teeth nip at your bottom lip.

“Who said I enjoy sweetness?” You make sure he sees the way you make your dress ride up your thighs. Yoongi groans.

“Perfect little monster,” he coos, taking one last look at your exposed thighs before he shuts the car door. You watch as Yoongi brushes off Jungkook and Namjoon’s protests of him leaving this important party and gets into the driver's seat. 

His long fingers grip the steering wheel tightly as he immediately punches the gas. And while you’re not afraid of the vampire sitting next to you, his driving is an entirely different story.

Luckily the drive back to the main hotel is short and you find yourself pressed to the wall of the elevator before you can even think of scolding Yoongi for his driving.

“I’ve pictured thousands of ways I’ve wanted to fuck you.” He hikes your leg over his hip. “But this is going to be quick.”

The elevator dings for the penthouse floor and with his inhuman speed, Yoongi moves you into the entry way and through the apartment, his mouth devouring yours as he deposits you onto his bed.

“No foreplay. Please just fuck me.” Your eyes roll to the back of your head as he licks down the column of your throat.

“Are you ready for me already?” His breath tickles your skin.

“Yes.” You take his hand and move it between your legs, your dress bunching around your hips as you push it out of the way.

Yoongi takes your hint, his fingers delving into your underwear to find your soaking pussy. He groans, pushing his fingers inside to pet your walls.

“So you are.” He sits up on his knees between your legs, throwing his suit jacket off of his shoulders and tossing it across the room.

You sit up on your elbows, watching intently as he undoes the buttons of shirt and reveals the beautiful skin of his chest and stomach. The muscles are there, but he’s also unexpectedly soft as your fingers explore the planes.

You help him the rest of the way out of his shirt, leaning up further to kiss his chest. His hands grip your hair but he doesn’t move you away, letting you traverse his skin with your lips and tongue for a moment.

“Get this off of me.” You start to reach behind you for the zipper of the dress but Yoongi has other ideas.

He reaches down and grabs your hips, flipping your body over so that you’re on your stomach and face down on the bed.

“Allow me.” His mouth is on the exposed skin of your back, kissing a wet path down your spine as he unzips the dress. You can’t help the moan that escapes you, or the way your hips push back to try and find friction. “Greedy,” he mumbles against the small of your back.

“Please, Yoongi. Just hurry up.” You slide the sleeves off of your arms so that Yoongi can pull the dress the rest of the way off. It must’ve been expensive, but he still tosses it to the floor.

When you try to roll back over onto your back, he grabs your hips and holds you in place.

“No, I think I’ll have you just like this.” You hear him take off his belt and the mattress move slightly when he removes his pants. “Hold onto something, little monster.” 

There’s no time to protest; you barely have time to grab the comforter before he’s sheathing his cock inside you in one fluid motion. You fall forward on your elbows, your face meeting the bed as you cry out from the intrusion.

“Fuck…” you whine, tightening your hold on the comforter as he starts to rock his hips, burying himself to hilt each time he pumps back into you. 

“This is what you wanted, isn’t it? So desperate for cock that you’d let a vampire defile you.” His hands hold so tightly to your hips that you know there will be bruises immediately. 

“Yes, I wanted it so bad.” You can feel drool begin to form at the corner of your mouth as he fucks you harder.

“Just remember, little monster, out there you’re the perfect princess for the public to see. But in here, in my bed, you’re my good little whore.” He thrusts particularly hard on the last word, shoving your top half flat against the bed when your arms give out.

“Yoongi…” It barely comes out a whisper, but you know he hears you.

“Come here,” he grunts, leaning over your body and wrapping his arms around your torso, pulling you up to press your back to his chest, his cock staying nestled inside you as he adjusts you the way he wants.

His thrusts stay deep, but slow down slightly. One hand grips your breast while the other spreads your legs wider over his lap.

“I’m going to cum…fuck I’m so close.” Your head flops back and rests on his shoulder, sweat coating your skin.

“You’re lucky that I want to feel this pretty pussy squeeze my cock, little monster. I’m going to let you cum.” Rough fingers find your clit, sloppy circles sending you into a frenzy as you chase your orgasm.

“Right there, yes yes, right there.” Your thighs start to shake as Yoongi pulls you down further on his cock, holding you there as you come apart, squeezing his cock just like he wanted.

“Good girl. Fuck, you’re gonna make me cum.” He swipes your hair away from your shoulder and suddenly sinks his fangs into your throat.

His bite only elongates your orgasm…it could have been two, maybe even three orgasms all chained together. Your sight blurs at the sheer force of the climax that rolls through you.

You’re barely coherent when you feel Yoongi release inside you, hot spurts filling you up and leaking down your thighs. He moans against your neck, taking two more long pulls of blood before he pulls off, hungrily licking at the trails of blood that trickle down your throat.

Your body is completely spent as Yoongi gently lowers you onto the bed, covering you with the comforter before he gets up off the bed. 

You watch with hooded eyes as he goes into his bathroom and comes back with a cloth to clean you up.

“Let me see the mess you made, baby.” He moves the covers off of your legs and cleans you up, making you whine at the contact of anything touching you there so soon. “Go to sleep.”

“I’m fine, I promise.” You snuggle deeper into the covers.

“We have a lot to talk about tomorrow.” You feel him join you in the bed. 

“Talk about what?” Your eyes are too heavy to stay open.

“The contract.” His cool body presses against your back and his arm falls over your waist. 

“What about it?” you mumble.

“The next phase of it, of course.” You feel his finger swipe at the blood still on your neck, popping it into his mouth.

“Phase?” 

“Engagement.” 

#bangtansorciere #btshoneyhive #btswritersclub #bangtanarmynet #bangtantheatrenet #kvanity #thekpopuniverse #yoongi fic #yoongi x reader #suga fic #bts fic #bts #yoongi fanfic #yoongi smut #suga smut #bts smut #vampire yoongi

[captain-joongz]

A little show

Pairing: Min Yoongi x f!reader

Genre: uni au, pure smut with a dash of plot, some fluff, strangers to lovers

Word count: 9.6k

Summary: Who knew that getting off in the uni bathroom to get away from the world's most boring lecture could lead to getting absolutely railed by a cute postgrad student... but third time's the charm, right?

Warnings: slight exhibitionism, masturbation in a public bathroom, sex in a public bathroom (for once they're even using condoms lol), yoongi is a little shit but he'll rock your world, dirty talk, slight choking kink, dom-ish yoongi, who am i kidding he's a fucking beast, fingering, backshots, rough sex, some begging, biting and marking, they literally don't talk to each once before fucking

A/N: oof this was totally unplanned but i cannot be held responsible for anything after seeing the d-day concert movie, this is all yoongi's fault. also it ends surprisingly fluffy for the filth that's contained within

credit for the divider to @saradika-graphics, thank you so much <3

I blinked rapidly, trying to keep myself awake while the lecturer droned on, his nervous slightly stuttering voice carrying through the classroom and lulling everyone into a half-asleep haze. Every Tuesday I had to sit through 90 minutes of this man stumbling through every topic, trying to connect with the classroom full of people while anxiously stepping around the whiteboard projecting his presentation.

I was fully understanding, this was his first year teaching and he still hasn’t shaken off the stage fright, but that didn’t stop me from wishing I had never enrolled into this class and rather spent the time doing literally anything else. It didn’t help that it was an afternoon lecture, dragging on until 5PM, which was usually the time I was already completely fried.

I looked around, noting the other students similarly fighting off sleep or browsing internet on their notebooks, some valiantly still trying to keep their attention on the lecturer and failing miserably. I watched the girl in the row in front of me order a cute sweater, deliberating between two colours for about ten minutes before choosing strawberry pink. I approved.

My body was screaming from being bent over the desk in my boredom, back bent so crooked when I straightened out it cracked vertebra after vertebra like a xylophone from nightmares. I sighed, squirmed around, checked the time. Only 5 minutes have passed since I last looked. I barely suppressed a groan. I couldn’t sit still for longer than a minute, leaning back then pressing forward, folding and unfolding my legs, just trying to find a comfortable position to spend the next 40 minutes in and failing.

After 5 more minutes I reached a boiling point, playing with the thought of just booking it halfway through, but instead my unoccupied brain started entertaining itself by slipping into a territory that it deemed more fun. I started thinking about what I’d rather be doing, where I’d rather be, flushing slightly from embarrassment but surrendering to these thoughts as they presented at least some form of entertainment.

I made it barely 10 minutes before I was so painfully wet and aroused I definitely couldn’t make it through the lecture anymore. I had to do something about it, now.

I wasn’t shy about the fact that I occasionally enjoyed wanking in some more public spaces like bathrooms, the thrill of someone possibly coming in and having to keep quiet was getting to me. I didn’t indulge in it often, just when I got really bored and my brain immediately went to “let’s get off to entertain ourselves” instead of doing something normal like other people, just when I was sure there was only a slight chance of someone actually coming across me.

But thinking all that, I realised I’d never taken such liberty while I was in the uni building, probably just thinking about getting out of there as quickly as possible, but fuck, this lecture was getting to me. Somehow it felt more morally wrong than some other random ass places, but I deliberated on it. We were in a secluded corner of the building, it was really high and there was no elevator, the classrooms were smaller and above there was construction going on, which resulted in this place usually being totally deserted except for those unlucky souls that still had lectures here. I was pretty sure there was no other class going on here right now and the chance of someone from here going to the bathroom at the same time was slim.

On a whim I decided to take the risk, my body heating up knowing I was about to give in to the need. I quickly stood up, grabbed my phone and made my way outside. The hall was empty except for a single guy sitting by a table directly across from the bathroom door, but I figured it would be fine. He was wearing headphones anyway, head bobbing to a beat I couldn’t hear and fingers nimbly clicking something on his laptop and toying with the mouse. I slipped past him quietly and went straight for the bathroom door.

Inside was quiet, as if cut off from the outside world, the only two toilets both empty and door wide open. I went to the further one, not that it made much difference with how small the room was, but it still made me feel a little better.

With the door closed and locked for better feeling of security, the excitement finally got the better of me and I rushed to stick my hand into my skirt to pull down my tights and panties, fingers immediately finding the slick folds.

I bent over, the stall small enough to allow me to lean on my elbow on one wall while my ass pressed into the other, fingers going straight for my clit and wasting no time in pressing on it and circling it desperately. Quiet sighs of pleasure spilled from my lips, body trembling with pleasure heightened by the fact I was in a public space.

I barely even touched myself and I could already feel how fucked out I was getting, knees shaking and the pleasure mounting dangerously fast. In my mind I imagined myself bent over the toilet and a warm presence behind me, getting fucked good, strong hands gripping my waist hard, pulling me back on the cock like a toy while telling me to shut up, laughing at me while I bit my fist trying not to let the whole university know how good I was feeling.

My orgasm was approaching embarrassingly quickly, the pad of my finger furiously toying with my clit while my knees were shaking with the mounting pressure waiting to snap. I was so wet I felt my juices dripping down my thighs, dripping onto my hand and making my finger slip all the time as I tried to get myself to cum as fast as possible.

That didn’t seem to be that hard as I could already feel myself hurling towards the edge, cunt spasming around nothing, desperately wishing to be filled, as my ass pressed harder into the wall and my back arched. I could feel a little cramp starting up in my wrist, but I didn’t let up, keeping the pace on my clit as I felt the start of an intense orgasm, the sensation bursting through me like a tornado and I let out a moan muffled into the crook of my elbow. My knees buckled with the force of it and thank god that I was still leaning on the wall otherwise I would have for sure fallen down.

My whole body relaxed, thighs and knees still shaking as I tried to get my breathing back under control. The bathroom was suddenly eerily quiet now that there wasn’t blood rushing through my ears and I wasn’t blinded by my own ecstasy, and I flushed in embarrassment but still couldn’t stop myself from a little joyful giggle leaving my lips in breathless wonder.

I took my time getting myself back into order, cleaning myself up and righting my clothes again. I was in there for only about 15 minutes, so there was no reason to rush. I did notice that my legs had a little boneless swagger to them as I suddenly went from high strung in boredom to perhaps a little too relaxed, a stupid little grin pulling at my lips as I swayed my hips leisurely.

But that changed the moment I walked back out onto the hall. The second I was out of the bathroom I immediately found myself in direct eye contact with the sole student sitting out there. I only had a second to note he was very attractive before I realised he was watching me with the air of amusement, eyes darkening and a smirk forming on his lips as he leaned back and gave me a once over.

I flushed under his heavy gaze, freezing like a deer in headlights. It was obvious he knew what I’d been doing in there, something in my demeanour must have given me away. His tongue darted out to wet his lips, his eyes lingering on my hands clutched together before amused grin set onto his face.

I broke out from the daze suddenly and set into motion again, escaping his hungry eyes and entertained aura, hurriedly scurrying back into the classroom where I sat stewing in my own shame for the rest of the lecture.

When I walked back out after we were dismissed, the hall was empty, to my great relief.

“Come on, you should come tomorrow at least for a little bit,” Jungkook whined, pouting at me and hands tugging at the sleeve of my shirt. I gave him an unimpressed look, firmly resistant to his charms, which probably made me the only person in the world that was capable of that.

“I told you Kookie, I’m not feeling it this week,” I said for the fifteenth time that day, “Maybe next time.” The dance major cutely stomped his foot and tugged on my sleeve again. His wild hair flailed around with the wind, probably getting into his eyes, but he ignored it in favour of annoying me.

“But the next party won’t be for god knows how long,” he whined, giving me his ultimate puppy eyes and blinking cutely, “Come on Y/N, you need to let go a little.” Now, I would lie if I wasn’t swayed a little bit, but the exhaustion was weighing on me and I was looking forward to just having a quiet evening in ignoring all of my responsibilities and pretending I have no essays due and there aren’t any deadlines I was missing.

“I’m sorry Kook,” I softened my tone a little to convey I truly was apologetic, smiling at him gently, “I promise I will definitely go to the next party.” The man brightened and straightened out, letting go of me and setting out on the sidewalk leading out of the campus.

“I have your word! No takebacks!” he shouted excitedly and I ran after him laughing. I knew he wouldn’t let me forget it, so I just resigned myself to going to the next party even though I quite disliked them. I had nothing against partying, but I just preferred to go clubbing and dancing, not spend my evening sitting on a stained couch in someone’s living room listening to total strangers get zoinked out of their minds and talk about assignments. But I would go for Kookie. Just once though.

We walked side by side for a moment, just enjoying the awakening spring. It was still pretty cold outside, but the sun shone more often and the temperatures were enough to wear just a light jacket instead of coats with shawls, so I soaked in the atmosphere. People were beginning to filter outside, sitting around on the green grass, talking and studying, and it was nice to see.

Looking around I suddenly froze, standing still in the middle of the path while Kook continued for a few more strides before he realised I wasn’t following. He gave me a confused look, but I was already fighting an embarrassed blush and didn’t pay him much mind.

On the grass by a big tree was quite a familiar looking student, his long wavy dark hair similarly pushed around by the wind as he bobbed his head to music presumably playing in his headphones. He was wearing all black, standing out as a sore thumb in contrast with the green lit up by sun, but he was fully engrossed in his laptop and paid no attention to anything going on around him.

“Hey Kookie,” I called out to my friend, finally looking at him, “Do you know who that guy is?” I discreetly pointed in the man’s direction, hoping I wouldn’t draw anybody’s attention by being a fucking weirdo. Jungkook was a social butterfly despite his shyness and he seemed to know half the university (probably a side effect of hanging out with Jimin all the time), even people from majors that had nothing in common with his, so I was pretty confident he would be able to correctly identify the menace of my life.

“Who?” he started confusedly looking around, eyes jumping around the students just living their lives. I tried pointing again, hoping he would see where I meant without having to outstretch my arm fully. “There, that guy in the black sitting under that tree.”

Jungkook’s eyes finally locked onto his figure and a recognition immediately lit up his face. I chuckled. Of course he did know him.

“Oh sure!” he exclaimed, “that’s Yoongi hyung. He’s a little bit university famous.” I looked at him in shock and then glanced back to the expressionless man sitting on the lawn.

“Famous? Famous how?” I pressed for more info, this time it was me who way playing up the cute act, hanging onto Jungkook’s arm and batting my eyelashes at him. He gave me an amused smile, seeing right through me.

“Well, he’s handsome and yet cool and mysterious, girls love that shit,” Kook played it up, flipping his hair sassily and fluttering his lashes, making me scoff at him amusedly, “Plus he’s a rapper and sometimes performs in the local clubs and bars, so he’s pretty popular.” I turned us away from the black-clad student who was still unaware of anything going on around him and pulled us back onto the path.

“I see,” I hummed noncommittally, not giving him any indication of why I would suddenly ask about Yoongi, but based on the amused looks Kookie was giving me, he must have had an inkling why the sudden interest.

“He’s actually in the same year as Joonie hyung, they’re interning together at the same studio,” Jungkook continued, keeping his eyes on me to gauge my reaction. I hummed again, not saying anything anymore and just sending him teasing looks.

“If you come to the party tomorrow, Yoongi’s for sure gonna be there,” Kookie mentioned seemingly casually, watching me out of the corner of his eyes as he pretended he didn’t care mischievously.

I only shot him a glare and pulled on his arm, leading us out of the campus towards the café where we were supposed to meet Jimin and Tae, Kookie’s friends who graciously adopted me into the group after I got befriended by the shy giant.

For the rest of the afternoon I could feel Jungkook’s eyes on me, his lips pulled into a barely concealed smile as he fought the impulse to tease me in front of the boys about what he must have thought was an embarrassing crush on the school’s resident heartthrob. I ostentatiously ignored him, only shooting him warning glares here and there to which he always responded with shit-eating grins. Jimin and Tae kept giving us confused and entertained glances but ultimately decided against asking what was going on, much to my relief.

God, if they only knew the truth about why Yoongi even was on my radar in the first place.

The next Tuesday I walked into the classroom again, fully determined to sit through the whole lecture and not move even an inch from my seat. This time I chose a chair in the back, where I could comfortably be on my phone and distract myself from the thoughts of last week, from the attractive man and his smirks. I wondered whether he was sitting there again today, listening to what I now assumed was his own music, laid-back and effortlessly hot. I began to squirm in my seat again, but I quickly tempered it down, scolding myself gently for having such a one-track mind.

Once again I made it through an hour and with 30 minutes left, I began to face a crisis. The boredom was getting to me and I needed to use the toilet, my bladder screaming for help and making me shift around on my chair in discomfort. I thought that I couldn’t really face the bathroom without getting extremely embarrassed, but in the end I lost the battle to nature and got up.

Only, stepping onto the hall, I looked up and lo and behold, there he was – Yoongi sitting peacefully by the window and clicking away on his computer, his big black headphones firmly on as always. The movement by the door must have registered at the corner of his field of vision and he eagerly looked up.

The moment his eyes laid on my figure, frozen once again in the hallway and heating up under his stare, he smirked widely like he won the lottery, leaning back and making himself comfortable on the chair. With his gaze following my every movement I hurried into the bathroom, cheeks blushing and knees turning into jelly.

On instinct I went to the furthest stall and locked the door behind me shakily. Having taken care of my business I paced the stall nervously, already feeling myself bend under the tension. I promised myself I wouldn’t do it again, knowing Yoongi was sitting outside fully aware of the nature of my little trip last week, but his demeanour, the winning smirk and dark eyes made me want to break that promise.

Embarrassingly enough, I could already feel myself getting wet again and I begun to lose the conviction to just walk away and go sit back into the classroom for another terrible 30 minutes. The thoughts of Yoongi waiting in the hallway, hungrily watching the bathroom door and thinking about me with my hand up my skirt were getting to me and I finally broke.

Swiftly pulling down my tights and underwear I didn’t waste anymore time in sticking my fingers between my folds, gathering the wetness and rubbing the swollen bud begging for attention. I couldn’t hold back the little sighs and moans of pleasure, my body hyper-sensitive and the lust coursing through my body more intense than I could remember ever feeling.

It didn’t take long before I was choking on the moans I desperately tried to stifle on my arm, knees shaking and close to buckling and pussy clenching on nothing, feeling so empty and so desperate for anything I was losing my mind.

And if I was deliriously cumming on my fingers only a moment later while imagining Yoongi fucking me roughly in the uni bathroom, that was only my business.

With trembling fingers I quickly cleaned myself up, blushing when I realised I was so wet the whole top of my thighs was covered in my sticky juices. Putting myself back together I rushed to scrub my hands clean and soon I was standing behind the door, taking a few deep breaths but the excitement still getting the better of me and I eagerly walked out, expectantly looking for Yoongi’s reaction with a little sly smile on my face.

And I was not disappointed.

The second I stepped out, his head snapped in my direction, confirming that he really was waiting for me to come out. His cheeks were also lightly dusted with pink from excitement, his eyes as dark as midnight with his pupils blown wide with lust. He immediately licked his lips, eyes raking over my form and taking in the shaky knees and trembling hips, the blush on my face, both from recovering from an orgasm and shyness, hair a mess and lips bitten red.

Yoongi suddenly stood up and I realised that he packed up his laptop and headphones, all his stuff probably stuffed into his neat backpack that hung off of his shoulder. He side-stepped from the table and leisurely made his way towards me, black dress pants nicely hugging his form, white tee tucked into them accentuating his slim waist and a thick black oversized shirt hanging off him in a way that made me slightly feral.

But there was something else he wanted me to see, and I clocked it as soon as he got close enough, cheeks absolutely blazing red and my pussy valiantly clenching again even after such an orgasm.

He was hard. When my eyes slid down again to appreciate how the pants fit him so perfectly they landed on an unmistakable bulge, the front of his pants tenting in a tell-tale sign of how much he enjoyed my little show. I gasped and suddenly all confidence sapped from my body and I was left aroused and aching, willing to do anything. He watched me with a mix of condescension and arousal, knowing how easily he won over me and loving how receptive I was to just a light teasing, how the blush spread down to my collarbones and my mouth opened subconsciously, eyes glazing over and brain no doubt filled only with the thoughts of his cock.

But with an arrogant smirk he passed right by me, heading for the door of the men’s bathroom. Only when he was halfway through the door, he threw me a look over his shoulder, winking at me and his grin turned wild and rough. Then he disappeared inside.

I was left in the hall gasping for air, body ravaged by tension and lust and head full of images of Yoongi standing in the bathroom stall and hurriedly yanking at his cock, the red tip wet with pre-cum, the liquid getting smeared all over his length by his eager hands trying to get himself to completion as fast as possible. I imagined him grunting, head thrown back and mouth open but still curled into that annoying smirk.

A door opened somewhere a little down the hall and a mess of voices flowed out, startling me out of my reverie and I realised I had been just standing in the middle of an empty hallway staring dumbly at the bathroom door. I felt the bashfulness catch up to me and it sprung me into movement. With one last look at the door I scurried back into the class and spent the last 15 minutes staring into the wall with flaming red cheeks.

When I walked out after the class ended, Yoongi was back to his place, sitting completely relaxed into his chair and grinning lazily when his eyes caught mine. I felt my whole body jerk with a bolt of lust, but I ducked my head and quickly ran down the stairs, rushing out of the building and towards the café where the boys were already waiting for me. Jungkook stared at my flustered face with an unreadable expression, and I let him think whatever he wanted, too preoccupied with fighting the image of Yoongi cumming all over himself just twenty minutes ago thinking of me masturbating just a wall over.

Later that week, after many orgasms, much deliberating and a whole lot of shame I decided I needed to hear his voice. I kept thinking back to how Jungkook mentioned he was in the same year and major as Namjoon and that he was a performing rapper, and I knew Namjoon put his stuff online. And if Yoongi really was a known name in the bar scene around the area, he must have too.

Asking Jungkook about his stage name would be too humiliating, so instead I decided to rake through Namjoon’s insta because he must have his friend’s account there somewhere, hoping Yoongi would forgive me a little social media stalking. Firstly I scrolled through Namjoon’s posted pictures, but he rarely tagged other people. Most of his pictures were of artworks or Joonie doing something silly and living his best life.

So I switched to the pictures that others tagged you in. It took a while, but I was able to see that most of them were from this guy Hoseok that I had seen around but haven’t really spoken to. I knew he was a double major because he did dance like Jungkook and Jimin, but I had never realised he was also in the same major and year as Namjoon. He seemed to post a lot from the studio, often with Joon hunched over his computer in the background, but after some digging I was able to find one that had them all in it.

It was also from the studio, it must have been the one the boys were interning in, presumably all of them together. Hoseok’s face was grinning in one corner as he was taking the selfie and even though it was dark, you could clearly see two men sitting at a table together and discussing something with serious looks on their faces. A laptop sat between them and one of them had his hand lying on the pause button. It was Yoongi and Joon. Only their side-profile could be seen in the photo, but it was unmistakably them. The description only said “hyung is scolding joonie again” but tapping on the photo it showed that both of them had been tagged. Bingo.

Yoongi’s account was full of mostly dark pictures, some from the same studio and some were of him on stage mid performance, but there weren’t as many as Namjoon and Hoseok had on theirs. I scanned some of them quickly, but even though he looked super hot and the photos were extremely well done, it wasn’t the reason of my searching.

I checked the name of the account again – it was Agust D. And there was a link in the bio. Without thinking I clicked it and was transported to Spotify, Yoongi’s entire career laid out clearly in front of my eyes in the form of three albums.

I spent the evening listening to them, letting his music wash over me and losing myself in the beat and the lyrics. No matter what I was looking for when I wanted to listen to it, I got everything and more. I suddenly understood all those star-struck students that according to Kookie trailed hopelessly after Yoongi, the man had a real talent and an aura that just sucked you right in, like a fly getting trapped in a very smug spider’s web.

His voice was surprisingly lower and rougher than I anticipated, the songs had no shortage of him growling or screaming, emotions pouring off of his voice in waves that just swept me along.

And I couldn’t wait to find out what he sounded like when he was getting his rocks off.

The next Tuesday I climbed those 4 floors of stairs confidently, wearing a short skirt and cute heels, gingerly picking a spot in the class that would allow me to slink off in the middle of the lecture again. Yoongi wasn’t sitting in the hallway yet, but I believed he’d show up soon enough.

The anticipation was coursing through my veins, making me jittery and giggly. From the corner of my eye I could see a classmate giving me a strange look, mouthing at me if I was okay and I nodded hurriedly, giving her a smile, hoping she wouldn’t pay any attention to me when I had to leave.

If the two lectures before were unbearable, this one took the cake. I could barely contain myself, squirming in my seat, trying to make myself comfortable while I checked the time every 2 minutes, wishing half the lecture had already gone by and always getting disappointed at how early it still was.

My mind was going into overdrive, feeding me ideas and fantasies, replaying last week’s encounter on loop. I couldn’t see anything except for Yoongi’s lopsided smirk planted firmly on his face as he made his way into the bathroom to jerk off, his face as he came thinking of me.

The minutes ticked by slowly, and I was absolutely losing my mind, thighs pressing together and hands tangled into the fabric of my skirt, bunching up the material. I made it 40 minutes before I grabbed my phone and sneaked out onto the hall.

Yoongi’s head shot up immediately, already sitting by the window waiting for something. This time I didn’t freeze up, instead I was the one who smirked at him and confidently walked up straight to the bathroom. He watched me raptly, something predatory glinting in his eyes as he leaned forward on the table. Couldn’t help but notice that today he didn’t have his laptop out, he just sat there and watched me, but I moved forward not giving it much thought.

I raised my eyebrow at him and winked right as I disappeared into the bathroom, the door falling shut behind me and sealing me inside in the calm and quietness. I rushed to the furthest stall, shutting the door behind me but not bothering to lock, too horny to think clearly.

I couldn’t believe this was getting to me so much, but the moment I managed to slide my tights low enough and ran my hand through my folds, I was already so wet it was astonishing. I laughed at myself in disbelief as my finger found my clit and circled it. Who would have thought this would become my weekly routine, jerking off in the bathroom while a guy I’ve never even talked to sat outside smirking.

But not today it turned out.

Just as pleasure began coursing through me at the ministrations, pleasured sighs leaving me freely as I got cocky not getting caught until now and the squelching of my wet pussy getting played with rang through the quiet space. Then, I heard the door open.

Immediately I froze, hand stopping but still stuck between my thighs. Slow silent footsteps made their way towards the stalls and I hoped whoever this person was, they would take care of their business quickly and leave right afterwards, but they seemed to be taking this in a really leisurely manner. I was holding my breath, counting the seconds, ears straining to catch any kind of sound coming from them.

“Don’t stop on my account, kitten,” a gruff voice suddenly piped up, the footsteps stopping right outside my stall. Relief and lust rushed through me at his appearance and I couldn’t hold back a desperate whimper, the fingers on my clit going back to work. There was a chuckle behind the door and then he was pushing it open.

I must have been a sight, underwear and tights pushed under my ass, skirt bunched up around my hips, bent over with my back arched leaning on the wall as I desperately played with myself, mouth open and eyes glazed over.

Yoongi’s eyes raked over me and he hummed lowly in appreciation. He made his way in lazily, shutting and locking the door behind him before leaning on it and just watching for a moment. I tried to put on a show for him but I was truly gone, the three weeks of built up arousal carrying me high and my body racing towards the edge in record speed.

I watched him back, watched his dark hungry eyes, his tongue peeking out to wet his upper lip, the way his hands flexed by his hips, twitching with the need to grab himself. I could see his bulge clearly, the tight black jeans barely able to contain it, and I was going crazy for it. When my eyes jumped back to Yoongi’s face, he was smirking at me knowing where I’d been staring at. What I wanted.

Suddenly he pushed himself away from the door and stepped towards me. Startled I straightened out, fingers stopping once more. He descended on me hurriedly, pushing me into the wall with his body, caging me in. Our faces were suddenly only breaths apart and Yoongi took his sweet time, teasing me by getting closer and pulling away with a laugh. I whined, my clean hand coming up to tangle in his hair and he let me, watching me from above as I writhed against him, wordlessly begging for any touch from him.

Finally, he took pity on me and with a cocky grin smashed our mouths together, immediately prying my lips open and licking inside, claiming me roughly and thoroughly. I moaned into him, body arching into his and he pressed closer, pressing me into the wall again and our bodies touched from our heads to our toes. His hand went to my neck, wrapping around it lightly and grabbing my jaw to keep me still as he kissed me with all his might.

Now with both hands I grabbed onto him, one going around his neck and one around the waist, and he broke the kiss to laugh at me quietly, turning my face with his hand so he could kiss around my ear.

“You’re such a little tease, you know that kitten?” he whispered, voice gravelly with arousal, “Coming in here every week… playing with your pussy… making yourself cum… and then coming out and giving me those eyes, cheeks still flushed from your orgasm and yet playing so coy and shy… you’re such a minx.” I tensed, eyes rolling back as he started nipping at my neck, laying wet kisses and bites all over any skin he could get to.

I didn’t even notice when Yoongi’s other hand found its way between my legs, fingers roughly pressing onto my clit. I choked on a moan, head falling back and hitting the tiled wall, hands flexing into his clothes. He bit my shoulder enough to leave a mark, chuckling at my loud keening before pressing his lips to the shell of my ear again.

“Last week I thought I would go crazy sitting there,” Yoongi continued, almost growling into my skin as his fingers twisted meanly around my sensitive nub making me tremble, “I couldn’t focus on anything, not when I knew how much you wanted to give me a show. Almost went to jerk off at least five times but I held off until you came out to repay the favour.” He chuckled again, hand tightening a little on my neck as he leaned back to look at me.

I tried to get my breathing under control but I was stuck with my mouth hanging open, noises flowing out freely as if this wasn’t a public bathroom. Yoongi didn’t seem to mind though, quite happy to watch me come undone just from a little teasing.

“It was the same for me,” I whispered, looking into his eyes and this time playing coy very much on purpose, licking my lips and batting my lashes to play it up, “Had to sit through the rest of the lecture while thinking about you in here. Was hell.” He snickered darkly, immediately catching onto my act.

He hummed, finger dragging across my lower lip, fascinated for a moment before he snapped back to himself, mouth pulling back into a smirk.

Without a warning his other hand moved lower, fingers tracing my entrance before two of them plunged inside. I moaned out, body seizing up at the sensation. I was wet enough that they went easy but there was still the pleasurable sting of being stretched out on two digits.

Yoongi certainly wasn’t the type to waste time. He hummed satisfied, watching me with those dark eyes, testing the waters with a few shallow pumps before he started finger-fucking me earnestly. Just like everything else, even now he wasn’t gentle, flicking his wrist up and pushing his fingers as far as they could go, curling them to scratch at that one magic spot that had me seeing white.

I whimpered loudly, hips gyrating to ride the motions, already feeling the stirrings of a powerful orgasm lurking on the horizon. Like a shark sensing blood Yoongi chuckled and twisted his fingers on the next thrust. I keened, hands flying up to tangle into his clothes and hair, hips jerking and chasing after the feeling.

“So selfish, kitten,” he tsked at me, still keeping his cool even though I could see his erection attempting to burst through his pants, “only thinking about your own pleasure. No respect for others, huh?”

My first instinct was to apologise, but I got choked up on the words when he started up his pace again, so instead I decided to be a woman of action. Slowly trailing my hand down his torso, feeling him up on the way, grabbing onto his chest, his slim waist, until I finally reached his crotch.

With the first touch he let out a light groan, fingers stuttering and eyes falling shut for a moment, then he was suddenly back onto me, kissing me wildly while his hips fucked into my hand, letting out gruff groans and sighs into my mouth, which I accepted gladly.

For a moment we were just lost in each other, not caring about the noise or the place, just pleasuring each other, touching, feeling. Then Yoongi was tearing away, hand flying from my pussy and stepping back. I couldn’t stop the pathetic whine that left me, and my cheeks flushed with embarrassment at his amused face.

Instead he grabbed me and turned me around until I was leaning on my arms on the wall behind the toilet, one leg up on the closed lid for support. I shivered in anticipation, knowing what would come next. Yoongi was moving about behind me, clothes shuffling and rustling. Then his sweater hit the floor. I turned my head to watch just as he reached into his back pocket and pulled out a silver packet. He grinned at me and winked when catching my eye, then reached out to me, condom in hand.

“Can you hold this for me for a second, darling?” he asked as sweet as honey, but there was something devilish twinkling in his eye.

“Of course,” I answered him. I meant for it to be sassy, but it came out on a breathless whisper as I took the packet and watched Yoongi’s hand run through his hair before setting on his belt. He unbuckled slowly, attentively watching my eyes soaking in every second as he pulled the belt through the buckle and out of his pants. Fingers toyed with the button before popping it open, tongue wetting his lips and hungry eyes eating me up. I trembled under his attention but held still, not even breathing as his fingers grasped at the zipper and pulled it down.

Tired of playing, he pulled his tee out and put the hem between his teeth, revealing his taunt stomach and pretty waist. Winking at my obvious gawking, he finally pulled his jeans and underwear down, his erection springing free. The sight of him shocked me to my core, standing there with his t-shirt in his mouth and a smug glint his eye while he leisurely fisted his flushed red cock. I could feel my pussy gushing and clenching around nothing, desperately calling to be filled up.

Yoongi plucked the condom packet from my limp hand and made a quick work of putting it on. He lined up behind me, hands finding my waist to pull my tee from the skirt, making contact with bare skin.

I gasped when I felt his cock slide through my wet folds, but quickly keened and arched into it. One of Yoongi’s hands tightened on my waist while the other disappeared to grab his length.

“Easy now,” he chuckled at my trembling body, my hips chasing after his cock and trying to entice him into fucking me.

“Please,” was all I could get out of my mouth, “please Yoongi, just fuck me.” His hand tightened again and there was a beat of silence before he snickered.

“So you naughty girl do know my name,” he teased and I froze for a moment, embarrassment flooding me. I turned to him again to see him smirking at me, tee hanging off of his form. “I heard it around,” I whispered sheepishly. He hummed, raising his eyebrows at me.

“Not really fair, is it?” he teased some more, a mischievous expression taking over his face, “Is it, Y/N?” I narrowed my eyes at him jokingly and he grinned.

“Now, what’s your excuse, mister?” I asked him sassily, “Not like I’m a campus celebrity… unlike someone here.”

“May or may not have asked Jungkook cause I saw you two hanging out,” Yoongi admitted easily, laughing at me when I paled.

“God,” I groaned, “No wonder he was getting so cheeky whenever you came up in a conversation.” At that Yoongi raised his eyebrow again, amusement dancing on his features.

“That happen often?” he asked impishly, leaning against me and once again letting me feel his cock sliding through my folds. I gasped a little and blushed even darker. “You’re Namjoon’s friend, so occasionally,” I bold-faced lied straight through my teeth and from the look on Yoongi’s face, he was aware but let me get away with it.

There was a moment of silence where we just stared at each other, mischievous little smiles on our faces, and then Yoongi hummed, pulling his tee back up to his lips and biting down on it. I shuddered, the lust once again taking the fore-front seat in my mind. This time he didn’t stop for anything, grabbing himself with one hand and the other going to my waist to hold me in place.

The tip of his cock circled my entrance and I subconsciously clenched, a gush of wetness leaving me. I whined and wriggled in his hold and he tsked at me again before sliding inside in a single thrust with a light condescending giggle. I groaned, pussy immediately squeezing around the intrusion, feeling every inch and ridge. There was a hitch in Yoongi’s breaths, both hands migrating to my waist and grabbing so tightly I felt his nails digging into my skin.

He barely gave me a second before pulling out and thrusting in again, setting a rough pace from the get-go. All I could do was bury my head into the crook of my elbow, biting into the soft flesh there to keep myself from moaning loud enough for the whole school to hear.

The stretch of his cock was exquisite, the slight burn heating up my already sensitive body to a near boiling point. With every thrust there was a tiny twinge of pain that left me breathless, desperate to muffle any noise that could cut our meeting short.

Yoongi didn’t seem to care much about noise, hands on my waist mercilessly pulling me back onto his cock and fucking me with so much force I felt my whole body twitching with the overdrive of sensation, the slapping of our sweaty bodies against each other and the wet squelch of my weeping pussy getting filled to the brim loud enough to substitute for our own sounds. He was grunting gruffly, the noise seemingly leaving his mouth involuntarily and getting muffled by the tee.

I turned my head slightly to look at him, and god, he was a vision with his head thrown back, eyes squeezed shut and face the picture of ecstasy, body rippling with the motion of his pumping hips and strong veiny arms and hands gripping onto me hard enough to go red with the force. I couldn’t hold back the moan and he toppled his head forward to look at me, a tired self-satisfied smirk tugging at his lips at seeing my fucked out expression.

“Take your fucking shirt off,” I gasped out breathlessly, chuckling at his teasingly narrowed eyes, “You have such a dirty fucking mouth, can’t stand for it being shut.” Yoongi laughed, throwing his head back in delight. Within seconds the piece of fabric joined his sweater on the floor and he leaned forward, hands picking on my own shirt with a mischievous expression.

“Shouldn’t you even the score?” I loved how deep and gravelly his voice became with arousal, even when he was being mischievous I could hear the growl in it and it drove me crazy. I scrambled to listen to him, tearing the shirt off and flinging it behind us. Yoongi’s hands immediately travelled up, playing with the edge of my bra before swiftly undoing the clasp and dragging it off. I gasped lightly at his skilled handiwork and giggled, but Yoongi was already preoccupied with kissing along my shoulders and shoulder blades.

His hips angled better and then jerked them into me again, cock sliding even deeper now. I groaned and arched into him and that was his que to start fucking in earnest again. In this position I could hear the strained sighs and grunts every time he slid back inside, the rough deep pace taking a toll on us both.

The back of my thighs was burning from standing bent over and straining my hips for this long and it added to the mix of feelings running through me. I could feel my orgasm catching up with me, Yoongi’s cock now hitting a spot on every thrust that made me want to scream with pleasure, sliding in so deep I swore I could feel him in my belly and it was so good my head was spinning, and all that came out of me were raspy moans. Yoongi bit into my shoulder, grunts raising in octave, hands pulling at my body to meet his thrusts.

I prayed to god that the walls were thick enough to keep the sounds from escaping onto the hall. I knew that if someone stepped inside now, there would be no masking what was going on, we were both too gone for that, just chasing our pleasure.

I was so close, the weeks of build up and the foreplay and teasing making me delirious. There in that moment I just wished I could stay like this forever, to feel this delicious ecstasy for the rest of my life, but I was so close to snapping I just needed a little extra push even though my head was so high in the clouds wishing to be never brought down.

“Please Yoongi, god,” I choked out, “please, I’m so close.” That seemed to snap Yoongi back into his attitude again, but he couldn’t hide how affected he was too.

“What do you want, kitten, mm?” even he couldn’t talk properly through the gasps and grunts, but still tried to sound as cocky as possible. Instead of talking I grabbed his hand and brought it down between my legs.

Yoongi pressed himself to me closer to make the reach more comfortable, his chest glued to my back as he nibbled on my neck and shoulder, giggling breathlessly when his naughty fingers started drawing tight quick circles on my clit.

My moans got louder, the pumping of his cock, hitting so deep inside of me, combined with the stimulation on my clit made me seize up, whole body shaking as the pleasure overtook me. Yoongi groaned every time my pussy clenched around him, drawing him deeper and closer to his own end. Both of us were so sweaty we stuck to each other, the temperature in the stall rising so high it was almost unbearable.

“Yoongi,” I gasped out, just repeating his name breathlessly as I barrelled to the climax, feeling the beginning of the tingling washing over me, pussy seizing up. Yoongi’s hands were like vice on my body, my waist littered with red indents of his nails, some already purpling slightly.

“I know, kitten,” he whispered into my neck, “Me too, you can let go.” The moment those words left his mouth my orgasm exploded over me, enough to blind me and send my ears ringing for a few moments. I let out a raspy groan, hands scrambling to find purchase on the wall and if it wasn’t for Yoongi’s hold on me, my buckling knees would have sent me crashing to the floor, but all I could focus on was the euphoria blooming through my body, flooding all my senses with so much pleasure I could barely fully register anything that was going on. Yoongi fucked me through the peak, hips losing rhythm and all decorum until finally he gave last few hard pumps and stilled too, coming with a drawn-out moan, hands pushing our hips as close together as they could go.

We clung onto each other as we attempted to catch our breaths again. I felt my arms slipping on the tiles as the pleasant ache started setting into my hips and lower tummy, legs screaming for a reprieve as my brain slowly came back into function. I blinked my eyes open, not even realising I had closed them at some point. Yoongi was basically hugging me from the behind, draped over me just breathing deep, faced smushed into my shoulder blade. Then he chuckled.

“You think we’re still in the clear?” he laughed, “How thick do you think these walls are?” A giggle tumbled out of me and before I knew it we were both laughing breathlessly, bodies still pressed close.

“This is officially the craziest thing I’ve ever done,” I told him, shaky knees trying to keep my weight as I started to gather my wits. Yoongi let me go easily and helped me find my balance as my whole body ached, back killing me after Yoongi railed me like a madman.

“And here I was, thinking this was just regular Tuesday for you.”

I slapped his shoulder lightly, but the blush on my cheeks revealed that I couldn’t really say anything to that. His amused snickers told me he was well aware, so I just stood there and watched him slip the condom off, tie it up and then just awkwardly stand there not knowing what to do with it.

“Guess I can’t just casually drop a used condom into a bin in the girl’s bathroom,” he stated nonchalantly, and I giggled at him. In the end he grabbed a bunch of toilet paper and hid it inside, putting in on the closed bin lid for the moment.

Next Yoongi swiftly cleaned himself up and pulled his jeans back on, but when I reached for the paper to do the same, he swatted my hand away. With a much gentler smile he got it himself, kneeled in front of me and started cleaning me up, gently wiping away the mess left on my centre and thighs. I watched him attentively, the soft look on his face making him look boyish, only the naughty glint in his eyes reminiscent of the man he was just a few minutes ago.

When our eyes met, I returned the smile, hand instinctively going to tangle into his hair. I meant to just card it through the dark wavy locks, but the heated look he gave me had me shuddering again, fingers tightening. Yoongi smirked, tongue licking at his lips sensually just inches away from my exposed pussy.

“Still thinking about naughty things, kitten?” he said, voice dark and deep, “Like the sight of me on my knees for you?” I hesitated for a moment before untangling my hand and gently pushing him with a blush.

“I see,” Yoongi hummed thoughtfully, “maybe next time then.” With a wink he stood up and when I didn’t move he motioned for me to start dressing up with a smirk, handing me my bra and t-shirt. We slowly clambered out of the stall, stretching and trying to get all the body parts to working order again.

“How about,” Yoongi drawled out, self-assured and with the attitude of someone who just got their rocks off, “you ditch the lecture you never really go to anyway and we grab something to eat?” I stopped in my tracks, shocked but pleasantly surprised at his offer. I checked the time quickly.

“There’s only like 10 minutes of class left, I can sit that out and then we can go,” I answered, smiling softly, but Yoongi smirked with all his might, something devilish glinting over his face. He leaned towards me, grabbing me lightly by my shoulders.

“Not looking like that, you can’t,” he whispered meanly and spun me around. The moment I laid my eyes on myself in the mirror, I gasped. Yoongi was standing behind me grinning like the devil admiring his handiwork. My neck was littered in little bites and spots ranging from dark pink across red all the way to purple. Yoongi let out a satisfied hum, almost sounding like a purr, his hands going across my waist to pull at the tee tucked into my skirt to reveal more reddish purplish bruises from his fingers.

I turned in his arms and slapped his shoulder lightly, completely flustered by his antics. “How can I walk out of here now? Everyone will know what I’d been doing instead of sitting at the lecture,” I whined, more embarrassed than angry, but Yoongi’s laughing face was totally free of any remorse, “I look like someone beat me up.”

The man said nothing, just pulled me closer to kiss me gently. I looked at him with wide eyes for a moment before I whined again: “I don’t even have a scarf with me today.” He burst out laughing and patted my hip softly.

“I’ll get your stuff, you wait here,” he whispered conspiratorially and with one last wink he was gone. It took him only three minutes to stick his head back into the bathroom, looking a little ruffled and a lot amused.

“I suggest we get going fast, I’m afraid a guy leaving the ladies restroom isn’t as inconspicuous as I wished it was,” he got out quickly, smirking impishly and handing me my coat. I tried to wear it in a way that covered most of the marks, but it was futile, more than half of my neck still on full display.

I walked out of the bathroom the same moment the door to my classroom opened and students started filing out. Yoongi exchanged a single glance with me before we both took off, running down the stairs like we were being chased, only stopping once the building doors slammed shut behind us.

“Jimin’s café?” Yoongi asked breathlessly, still trying to get his strength back and leaning on his knees. I grinned at him and grabbed his hand, already pulling him in the right direction.

“Sure, let’s go!”

Bonus:

“Holy shit! The fuck happened to you?” Jimin exclaimed loudly enough for the whole café to hear the moment he saw me walk through the door. Jungkook and Tae, who were sitting at a small table near the counter to keep Jimin company while he had his shift, turned to look at me only for Kookie to promptly spit out whatever he was drinking.

“Holy shit!” I gave him an unimpressed look and walked up to Jimin to order.

“A little dramatic, don’t you think?” I side-eyed him sassily, but Jungkook was grinning mischievously, a knowing glint in his eye. I flushed under his gaze and looked away at which he started laughing loudly.

“Oh my god! I can’t believe you actually did it,” he giggled, properly entertained by the situation and by my embarrassment. Tae was watching it all unfold, confused look on his face.

“Did what?” Jimin asked, similarly confused.

As if on cue the door opened again and Yoongi stepped in, ignoring everyone currently staring at him and walking straight to me, arm curling around my waist to pull me closer to him. He bent down slightly to whisper in my ear: “Got rid of the evidence successfully.”

“Holy shit!” This time it was Tae who screamed, coming full circle. I gave their smug smiling faces an annoyed glare and turned to Jimin to order again, but he was trying to conceal his grin behind his hand. Even more vexed I turned to Yoongi who was smirking smugly like a cat who got all the cream, hand possessively squeezing at my bruised waist.

“On second thoughts, we shouldn’t have come here,” I said to no one in particular, then turning my narrowed eyes at the man of the hour himself, “and wipe that smirk off your face, mister.” There were giggles from the boys all around us, but Yoongi just swooped down and kissed me softly, then pushed us closer towards the counter.

Jimin cleared his throat and tried to put on a professional expression, but there was mirth in his eyes that I just knew I was going to get all the teasing later. Tae and Kookie cleared out the mess at the table and made space for us to sit down, one looking more amused than the other.

I gave them both the stink eye and ignored them, checking my phone instead, trying to reply to all the messages I’ve missed in the last hour. Around me there was silence, everyone just sitting there looking at each other grinning, before Jungkook cleaned his throat and exclaimed:

“God, fucking finally! Thought Yoongi-hyung was gonna talk my ear off about you!”

“Kookie!” There was a pretty blush spreading on Yoongi’s cheeks, a polar opposite to the cocksure man that was railing my brains out 20 minutes ago. I giggled and squeezed his arm. He gave in easily, leaning towards me.

Then he set his eyes on Jungkook and narrowed them teasingly. “We’re gonna settle that later you brat.”

#kpop fic #kpop smut #kpop fluff #bts fic #bts smut #bts fluff #bts x reader #yoongi smut #yoongi fluff #yoongi x reader #suga fic #yoongi fic #suga smut #suga fluff #suga x reader

[aphrodijin]

swing life away | min yoongi

pairing: min yoongi x fem!reader

synopsis: it's your first anniversary as a married couple but not only did you forget today's special occasion, you also didn't prepare a self-made gift for your husband -- except for the bundle of joy in your womb.

rating: 18+

word count: 5.2k

tags/content warning: married au, pregnancy, slight angst, miscommunication, mentions of infidelity (no one's cheating), mentions of food and being vegan (no one's vegan), usage of babe/baby as endearment, semi-public sex, SMUT in the forms of oral sex (m. receiving), fingering, unprotected sex (don't do this unless you want kids or std), slight spanking, yoongi being a carpenter/loving husband/dumpling/etc.

this fic is inspired by the song "swing life away" by rise against and yoongi's woodcarving vlog :] enjoy!

Min Yoongi was many things.

He’s a skilled carpenter with his own woodshop business by day, and a rising songwriter/record producer by night. He’s a confident all-star basketball player back in his high school days and can still shoot perfectly whenever he plays with some of your shared friends in the backyard these days. He’s a great cook too, always indulging your cravings.

Min Yoongi was many things but most importantly, he’s your husband.

And a very observant one.

It’s been more than a month when he first noticed it. He wasn’t exactly sure what was “it,” but he knew it wasn’t good. He could tell there was something bothering in your mind one night you went home from work and claimed it’s nothing instead of ranting to him like the usual. Just a bad day at work.

A week after that was when you started to stay long hours at work, looking more pale and exhausted when you get home. It baffled Yoongi why you would spend more hours there if it’s stressing you and you’ve never actually worked overtime, but he knew he’s not one to talk about spending more time at work when he has two jobs and does one of those said jobs at home, so he shut his mouth. He didn’t say anything.

Not when you changed your perfume from an intoxicating fruity scent to a soft floral one. Not when he saw a receipt of you having your car interior cleaned and also changed the smell of it. Not when you didn’t want to have sex anymore, always pushing his hands away when they start to wander down there.

A lot of new small things bothered him, especially the last one but what made him almost lose it was when you had mistaken his dish, the one you claimed to be your favorite, for a different one.

x◇x◇x

“Do you like it?”

You nodded, despite still blowing the steam off of your spoon. When you finally tasted it though, he could tell on the look on your face that there’s something missing on his dish. “What is it? Did I not put enough fish sauce or tomato sauce?”

“You put fish sauce in this?” You asked, smiling adorably at your husband and reached across the table to hold his hand in assurance. “It tastes fine, babe, but there’s no need for fish sauce in this. You could’ve added more liver spread and cheese though. You know I love a lot of cheese in this.”

Yoongi closed his eyes for a moment to breathe. He understood the cheese part, you always add cheese to a lot of dishes that doesn’t even need cheese. “Y/N, I didn’t put liver spread because that dish doesn’t require liver spread. It needed fish sauce.”

“What are you talking about? Caldereta is all about the tender beef, tomato sauce, liver spread, and cheese!”

“That's afritada, Y/N. You’re favorite dish back home is afritada.”

Yoongi blinked and composed himself, trying not to look so wounded. He’s so damn sure you’re favorite was afritada, you’ve talked about it a lot. Hell, he’d already cooked it a couple of times before. He had the recipe that he searched online bookmarked on his browser, and he even went to the lengths of jotting them down on his journal just in case the link is taken down.

“Afritada… you mean this is chicken?” You scooped for some meat parts from the reddish soup dish, and there it was, your recent enemy: chicken. “I can’t eat chicken right now, Yoongi, I'm sorry.” You sat straight up, covering your mouth and nose with your hand.

“Of course, it’s chicken. It’s always been chicken, Y/N. It’s a chicken dish, that’s why you love it so much. Or loved, apparently, judging by your actions tonight.”

“I'm sorry,” your voice came out muffled as your hand was still covering your mouth.

“When did you start hating chicken?” he asked as he stood up to take your plate away and check the pantry to prepare something else for you.

“Um, my coworker, Seokhoon, he’s practicing to be a vegan lately so we thought we’d support him by also not eating meat…”

Yoongi’s ears perked up, hearing how your answer sounded uncertain and more like a question, so he pressed more, looking over his shoulder at you. “You were more than ready and excited to eat beef and cheese earlier but you wouldn’t eat chicken right now?”

You stared dumbfoundingly at him before shrugging. “I’m trying with small things like egg and chicken.”

“I made you an omelet for breakfast earlier.” He pointed out, holding your gaze.

“I… just started… to try being vegan earlier at lunch. And also meat are becoming pricey these days, our salary might not be enough. Sooner or later, we’re gonna have to cut back on our expenses. What would you rather give up—chicken or beef?”

Of course, Yoongi would rather eat tofu and bean sprouts for the rest of his life if it meant you get to eat properly and satisfy your cravings. But he didn’t bother to reply that as he cooked you a different dish that night. Fuck Seokhoon for influencing you to be vegan. Fuck the government for the rising prices and not handling the economy better.

x◇x◇x

Ever since that dinner night, Yoongi began to question your marriage. He wanted to talk to you because he didn’t know what to make of your actions anymore, but everytime you two were in the room together, he could you tell you were uncomfortable and couldn’t wait to get out of the situation. Besides, he’s afraid to ask because he knows he’s not prepared for any possible answers you'll give him.

You cheated? Yoongi knew it’s impossible. It had to be because he wouldn’t know what to do with that with that revelation. That would honestly break him.

You lost your job and was just actually driving around town to look for a new one and pass the time? It sounded stupid but not impossible. He would be disappointed and wish that you had told him sooner to prepare and possibly take on a third job.

You’re pregnant? He supposed this is a realistic scenario. You two had talked about this sincerely before getting married, of course, both wanting two kids. He just feels like it’s still early for babies and you two haven’t done all your goals as a married couple before becoming parents.

So he told himself to wait, that you would open up to him when you’re finally ready to unburden your problems. He’s a patient man after all.

But his patience seemed to be running thin today on the morning of your anniversary when he rolled over to your side as he woke up to cuddle you closer and hopefully start the day buried inside you.

He knew you’re awake, even with your eyes closed. You've been waking up earlier than him lately, one of your many changing habits. He took your hand that was hugging your stomach and pressed a soft kiss on your fingers, on your palm, on your wrist, trailing them across your arm up to your shoulder.

“Y/N,” he whispered your name, wishing for you to open your eyes when he nipped at your jaw. He called your name once again as his lips were ghosting over yours. Your eyelashes fluttered open just enough to look at him and when he finally saw your eyes, he leaned down to kiss you deeply.

You freed your hand from his to curl your fingers up into his long hair, urging him closer while the other slid up beneath his shirt, feeling the heat of his body that you’ve been missing for weeks now. You pulled your knees up as Yoongi settled himself in between your legs, grinding his hard cock against your core.

But just as his own hand started to drift down on your hips, you slowed down, giving his lips one last kiss before pressing your forehead to his. You both stayed there without any movements at all, just gasping for air and holding each other’s skin and flesh tightly every now and then.

When it sounded like you were about to apologize, he pressed a kiss on your forehead and whispered, “Happy anniversary, baby,” before bolting right out of the bed, before you could even say it back to him.

x◇x◇x

Despite your husband having his own woodshop and fulfilling his dreams in the music industry, you didn’t let go of your job when you and Yoongi got married.

You were on your way back to your desk from your third visit to the bathroom that morning when you saw the delivery man on the front door of the store carrying a gigantic bouquet of flowers he almost disappeared behind it.

“Min Y/N?” he asked, looking around the store.

Jia turned to the direction of the bathroom and pointed at you when she saw you. You stayed your feet at your place. You couldn’t speak, you couldn’t move. The flowers looked beautiful—a bouquet of pale and dark red carnations, along with sunflowers, wrapped meticulously in craft paper and tied with a golden ribbon—but there’s a bad feeling in the pit of your stomach that’s making it hard for you to appreciate this.

“This is for you!” The delivery man presented the bouquet to you with a proud smile. When you didn’t move, he gingerly took your arms to place the flowers in them and then took off.

A minute must have passed by yet none of you and your colleagues moved or talked. It wasn’t until a client came in and needed assistance. Jia wrapped her arm around you and walked you back to your desk. As you sat down, you caught sight of the red card sticking out of the flowers. HAPPY 1ST ANNIVERSARY, BABY.

Reading Yoongi's handwritten note, you recognized that bad feeling again that you knew all too well lately. Shame and guilt. You had to close your eyes and practice your breathing exercises before those bad feelings in your stomach turn into a pile of chunky vomit across the floor.

Jia, oblivious to your anxiety, swooned over the flowers. “Happy anniversary, Y/N!”

It’s the second greeting you’ve received today and you couldn’t help but wince when you remember how you froze when Yoongi greeted you.

You didn’t know how this special event slipped up your mind when staring at your calendar was all you’ve been doing lately. You were aware that your own anniversary was near and you even had a lot of ideas for DIY gifts to give to your husband.

You tried to make it up to Yoongi by going after him and showering together to have some hot shower sex even though the thought of sex was making you nervous lately. Yoongi turned down the offer though, saying you’re both gonna be late for work, which was a very pathetic excuse considering he’s his own boss and your own work doesn’t start in a couple of hours. So you showered together in silence.

Just as you’re about to calm down, you’re eyes widened in panic because not only you forgot your own anniversary day, of course you also forgot to actually make a gift despite tons of ideas in your journal and Pinterest board.

“Jia, I didn’t get him a gift!” It wasn’t even noon yet, and you’re already close to breaking down for the third time today.

“Well, the department store is just around the corner. I can come with you at lunch to buy something last minute.”

You shook your head and explained to her that buying some expensive stuff isn’t enough. Knowing your husband, he already made you a gift days ago. You’re not sure if it’s something from his woodshop or if he composed you a song, all you know is Yoongi probably made you a gift with love. No amount of money could compare to that.

“Well, there’s always sex?” At the sight of your face crumpling once again, Jia took back her suggestion. “Or not! Honestly, Y/N, this is why I’m all single and alone in life so I don’t have to give people gifts and you’re making me stress about your own anniversary gift.”

“I’m so sorry.”

“And really, you’re worrying about gifts when…” she paused to look down at your belly. “Have you told him yet?”

You shook your head.

“Well, there’s your anniversary gift, congratulations!”

“This is a stupid gift." Despite your harsh words, you wrapped arm protectively around your middle.

“Why? You said you want to give him something you made, well you made that. He even helped, too!”

You couldn’t possibly just announce you’re pregnant on your anniversary day? Right? Sure, it’s convenient and practical – two celebrations in one night!

But that’s not the actual thing that’s been bothering you. You’ve been hiding your condition to your husband for weeks now, when you should have told him that he’s a gonna be a dad the moment you saw the plus sign on a stick. But you didn’t because you’re scared and if you’re gonna be honest, also selfish. Selfish to have Yoongi the Husband™️ all to yourself just for a couple more days before he turns into Yoongi, your husband and the father of your unborn fetus. And then that selfishness turns into guilt for not telling him, for distancing yourself.

A part of you wished he’ll figure it out on his own, that’ll save you a speech.

x◇x◇x

Even before you started to spent late hours at work, Yoongi always comes home an hour or so before you. It usually gives him enough time to prepare for dinner.

However today, he asked his friend Seokjin to prepare a romantic dinner for you two as he would busy himself installing the porch swing he made as his anniversary gift for you.

With his long hair tied in a half bun, a few strands tucked behind his ears and locked into place with pins, and a safety googles on his face, Yoongi began by drilling two holes up into the ceiling joists where he would screw the hooks. When he’s done and swept away the dust, he took the chains that’s wrapped in rope for extra support and aesthetic purposes and attached them to swing before hoisting them up to the hooks.

Despite wanting his gift to be all handmade, Yoongi had no choice but to buy a small foam mattress and throw pillows to decorate the swing. He placed them all nicely and removed his googles before sitting down and testing the swing if it runs smoothly.

Swinging for a couple of minutes gave Yoongi enough time to relax from the stress of his jobs, from setting this swing up, from all his fears and worries.

It gave him enough peace from all the doubts and questions inside his head. He hoped that this would give you the same. He hoped that you seeing this swing – the one you dreamed for so long, the one that he promised you because how could he ever say no – will help you remember that the fact that you two get to celebrate this day was because of your love for each other and the trust you’ve built all these years even before marrying.

Yoongi had set up the swing in the right side of the house, facing a line of tall trees that secludes this house from the main road, and close enough to the backyard for some peace and privacy that if anyone walks or drives in to your lot, they wouldn’t see you right away as the beams would hinder their sight. But anyone who’s sitting here would see just fine if there’s someone coming in.

Just like Yoongi saw your car rolled in right away to park next to his pickup truck. He stood up and waved his arm to call your attention, excited to show you his gift. When you didn’t see him, he jogged up to the front and flashed a smile when you jumped up in surprise at the sight of him.

“What are you doing outside?”

“I have to show you something, come on!” He went to cover your eyes for surprise and guided you to the back.

You were expecting some surprise in the backyard, probably a dinner he cooked but your assumptions came into a halt as Yoongi stopped only after taking a few steps. When he removed his hands and told you to open your eyes, a cozy porch swing greeted your sight.

“That’s…” you trailed off, walking closer and wrapping your hand around the chain-rope. From the bulky design of the chain and rope to the uneven height of the wooden slabs of the back support, Yoongi made you the exact wooden swing that you drunkenly drew a long time ago when you two just started dating.

“Happy anniversary, Y/N.” You heard Yoongi say behind you, and you wish he had said it the way he greeted you this morning – with such coldness and hurt. You felt like you didn’t deserve this with the way you’ve been treating him this past month.

Not wanting to hurt him any longer and bring back normalcy in your relationship, you turned to look at him, your eyes teary and said, “I… I'm sorry, babe.”

“Why? What is it?”

“I…” You cleared your throat and wondered which should you say first: you didn’t get him any gift, or you’re pregnant. You figured you should go with the bad news first before softening the mood with the good news, you’re just not sure which is which. “I didn’t get you any gift. I actually forgot it’s our anniversary today, I’m sorry.”

Yoongi fell silent before chuckling nervously. Sure, forgetting your own anniversary was bad, but that’s little compared to what Yoongi was imagining these past few days. “That’s alright, I thought it was something serious.”

“Why? What did you think I was going to say?” you prodded before you drop your next bomb.

“I don’t know what I thought, honestly. Things haven’t been quite well with us lately, Y/N.” He shrugged, scratching his nape. “I thought of pregnancy. There’s one where you don’t actually have a job anymore and just didn’t want to say it. I also thought you’re cheating with fucking Seokhoon—”

“Seok-Seokhoon? Why the hell would you think that? I couldn’t stand that guy.”

“I don’t know Y/N, you tell me, you’re the one who suddenly didn’t want to eat chicken because fucking Seokhoon is trying to be vegan.”

You thought about the lamb chops Seokhoon devoured at lunch today. You also remembered the night Yoongi was referring to, when you almost spilled your guts literally and figuratively at the smell of the chicken.

“Seokhoon isn’t vegan. But one of your hunches is true.” You walked towards him, taking his hand in yours and placing it on your stomach. “I’m pregnant.”

Yoongi froze for a minute, staring at your eyes down to your stomach that he’s touching. His gummy smile slowly broke into his face, giggling as he asked to confirm, “Pregnant? With babies?”

You nodded, matching his smile. “Yeah, pregnant, but hopefully just a singular baby. Or fetus, I’m not sure, I haven’t been to a clinic yet. I was putting it off because I want you to be there at the first checkup since I left you in the dark when I took the test. I'm really sorry about that, Yoongi, I just didn’t know how to say it. I was scared and nervous myself about this baby and I kn—”

Yoongi cut off your ramblings by kissing you. “I'm sorry. I'm sorry I thought you were cheating when you were feeling this way all on your own. I should’ve asked you.”

You shook you head. “I'm sorry I let you think that, too. But there’s no way I would’ve betray you for Seokhoon or anyone else, really. I love you so much, Yoongi.”

You stood in your toes to kiss him again, muttering again and again how much you love him and how sorry you were. His hands stayed firmly on each side of you, and you didn’t pushed him away this time. You looped your arms around his neck and tugged him closer.

This one kiss – after all those weeks of just pecking and short kisses, after the frustrating mess that happened earlier morning – was so hungry and powerful and mind-numbing. You wouldn’t even wanna stop if a lightning strike near you two. You missed him so much, you would’ve take him right here, right now.

But Yoongi pulled away, breathing ruggedly as he said, “You haven’t tried it yet.”

“Tried the what yet?”

“The swing, don’t you wanna take a ride on it?”

Despite his innocent question referring to the swing, your eyes mischievously glinted and an idea popped into your mind. You took his hand and gestured for him to sit down. Trying to calm yourself down, you kissed your husband first before prying his legs open and kneeling down between them, instead of sitting beside him.

“What are you doing?” he smirked, enjoying the sight in front of him.

“I was thinking I could ride you on it instead, but first…”

With a coy smile, you unbuttoned his pants and pulled them down along with his underwear, freeing his hard cock. Licking your lips in anticipation, you wrapped your hand around him, thumb circling at the precum beading on his crown.

Yoongi hissed at sensation, bucking his hips up. “Fuck, baby, don’t tease me. It’s been a month.” His hands ran through your hair to keep them out of the way and prompted for you to start.

“Happy anniversary,” you greeted him before placing sloppy, wet mouth kisses on the head of his dick and moving them down while your hand was steadily stroking the base and the other was gently squeezing and rolling his balls.

When you made sure to coat every inch of his cock with your saliva, you kissed his crown one more time before taking him in your mouth, trying to fit whatever you can while your hand covered the rest.

“Ahh, that feels so good, babe. I’ve really missed you,” he rasped.

You moaned around him as you felt yourself getting wet even just at the sound of his voice and at the feeling of his heavy cock sliding in and out of your mouth. One of his hands weaved into your hair once again to carefully guide you at the pace he wanted. He bit his lip in concentration as he tried to restrain himself from just snapping his hips up to fuck your face but failing a couple of times, making you choke and teary-eyed.

Yoongi couldn’t help but groan at the sight of you, mouth wide open full of his cock, eyes in tears staring up at him. His other hand cupped your jaw, his thumb caressing your cheek.

“You’re doing so good, baby, taking my cock so well.”

His moans were getting louder and he started to lose control of his hips, a sign that Yoongi’s close to his orgasm. You released his cock to tease him a little bit, swirling your tongue over again at the sensitive spot of his crown as you pumped his length, making him all whiny as he repeated your name again and again like a mantra along with few curse words, before sucking him whole again with the intention of swallowing his hot cum. Which Yoongi delivered, a lot. And loudly.

You pulled yourself off of his cock, still semi-hard, and opened your mouth to show him that you’ve swallowed every drop of his cum. Still breathing heavily, Yoongi smiled proudly at you. “You’re gonna be the fucking death of me, Y/N baby. Come here.”

“Not to doubt you, but are you sure this won’t give out on us?” You asked, looking up at the ceiling where the swing is hanging.

“Of course not, at least three people can sit here. We’ll be fine, even when we finally have our kid sitting down here with us,” he replied, helping you get up at your feet.

You stared down at him, grinning at the thought of your kid playing at this very porch swing their daddy made in the future. But first, it’s gonna mommy and daddy’s turn on the swing for a while.

Because of the disastrous shower session earlier, you tried to make it up to your husband by wearing his favorite black lace lingerie underneath one of your red dress that gave out the equal vibe of classy and slutty to entice him on. You also figured, might as well wear them while you still can.

You unbuttoned the dress open from the top, revealing the lacy bra, causing Yoongi to raise his eyebrows.

“You wore lingerie to work?”

“Yeah, it turned out to be quite itchy and uncomfortable to wear for a long time actually,” you pouted. “Help me out of it, please.”

Yoongi leaned forward, one of his hands held you firmly by your waist while the other slipped beneath your dress, running his fingertips along the edge of your underwear before pulling them aside to sink a finger inside your cunt and moving it in a ‘come hither' motion. He added another finger while his thumb drew circles on your clit to send you over the edge.

You gasped, your hands paused from unclasping your bra to balance yourself on your husband’s shoulders as he stretched you out, spreading your slick all over your slit. When your juices had dripped down on his wrist, Yoongi took that as a cue that you’re wet enough and hooked his hands around your underwear to remove them before pulling you into his lap.

He gathered the skirt of your dress, bunching them up to your waist. You bit your lower lip as your pussy was pressing against his cock, feeling hard and thick against your wet core. Feeling impatient as Yoongi kissed your neck, you tried to move your hips, chasing that pleasure the friction gave you, in which you earned a gentle slap in the ass from him.

“Take this off,” he said, toying with the strap of your bra.

You nodded like a good girl, unclasping them from behind and took the straps of your shoulders. Yoongi pulled down your dress, revealing your tits. He stared at them for a second, both of his hands cupping each breast gently, thumbs grazing your soft skin and hardened nipple. You were about to make a joke when he leaned down to start licking and sucking one of your tits, while he massaged the other one.

While he was busy, you attempted to get yourself off by rocking your hips against him again, whether on his cock or his thigh, you didn’t care. A cry left your lips when he slapped your ass once again, a bit harder this time, before proceeding to grab your ass in his hands and dig his fingers in to help you move. You whimpered every time your sensitive clit rubbed pass his tip, making him almost poked your entrance.

Yoongi switched his attention on your other tit, but never faltering his movement to make you come on his cock. He could feel you’re close, your folds fluttering against his cock, your hips jerking more uncontrollably, your juices running down on his skin to the foam cushion he newly bought, making a mental note to buy a new one.

“Y—Yoongi…” you moaned, eyes scrunched close and head thrown back. “Oh, I'm gonna—oh fuck Yoongi—”

He looked up from your chest to stare at the fucked out expression on your face as you come, his hands on your hips controlling your move to help you ride out your orgasm. When he felt that you’re almost done coming down from your high, Yoongi lifted you up to line his tip against your entrance and helped you sink down on his cock. You moaned loudly at the feeling of your cunt being stretched out so deliciously after a month without an intercourse.

None of you spoke for a while, but you were thankful that Yoongi didn’t fuck you right away and instead let you adjust to the size as he sucked and nibbled every inch of your skin.

“If I’m pregnant right now, does that mean we don’t need a condom for a while? Or you can still get me pregnant while I’m pregnant?”

“It can happen, but it’s rare.” Yoongi saw your concerned expression, so he asked, “Do you want me to wear one?”

You smiled and shook your head immediately. “No. I want to feel you.” With that being said, you hooked your arms across his shoulders and started to bounce on his cock, grinding your clit on his pelvis everytime you come down.

Despite the frustrations and longing that Yoongi had built up for a month, he managed to calmly hold back and sit there as you ride him. At the back of his mind, he was also hesitant to pound his dick in and out of you without a care because he’s afraid he might hurt the baby. So he let you control the pace while his hands wander over your body, palming your tits and smacking your ass.

“Ahh Yoongi… please, fuck me.” You couldn’t keep your upper body straight anymore as your walls began on clenching around his dick, so you leaned your head on his shoulder. “I can’t—I feel so close again…”

“I know, baby, I got you now. You did great,” Yoongi whispered tenderly, placing a kiss on your head. He gripped your thighs in place, thrusting his hips upward into you and picked up the pace to bring you to your second orgasm.

You cried out in pleasure as Yoongi kept hitting that sweet spot inside you, your body beginning to tremble in his arms. You could feel him getting close too by the way his thrusts were being quick and sloppy so you curled your hand around the curly strands on his nape, your lips leaving wet kisses on his neck as you tried to give him hickeys.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, holy shit baby…”

You were lucky you live in a remote place and didn’t have any neighbors for miles as they would’ve surely heard Yoongi's loud groans and your high-pitched moans as you came together. Yoongi had thrust one more time inside you, bringing your hips down as he flushed your bodies together and filled your cunt with his thick cum.

None of you wanted to move at that moment, just catching up on your breaths and occasionally rocking your hips into each other for a potential round two when your stomach had a sudden craving — dumplings.

And dumplings reminded you of — “Oh my, god, we’re gonna have a baby dumpling in a few months.”

“I’m not a dumpling,” he groaned, burying his face on the crook of your neck as you laugh.

Min Yoongi was many things—a carpenter, a songwriter and producer, a basketball player, a dumpling (despite his denial), your loving husband, and in a few months, a proud father.

Hello! Thank you so much for reading. I hope you enjoyed it and please, reblogs and feedbacks are always welcome and appreciated :)

If you want to support me and help with my dental care funds, please consider tipping me at ko-fi.com/aphrodijin or commission me to write you a fic. I could really use some help.

Thank you so much once again, have a great day! x

©️ 2022 aphrodijin

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[hoseokhasmyheartxx]

Nothing's Changed | MYG

*Pairing: Yoongi x f!Reader *Word Count: 7.4k I'M SORRY 😳 *Genre: friends to lovers, "only one bed" trope, some angst, fluff, non-idol au, fake dating (ish) au *Warnings: NSFW SMUT, MINORS DNI. alcohol consumption, brief mention of parent death, piv sex, unprotected sex (be smart, you perverts), oral (f receiving), nipple play, a bit of overstimulation if you squint, Yoongi has dirty thoughts frequently, reader has to be convinced kinda, i dunno what else to say except good luck reading this nonsense *Summary: You and Yoongi have been best friends since college. The rest of your friend group wants to go on a couples' trip, leaving you and Yoongi to share a room. But to your surprise, your room only has one bed... will the two of you be able to get through the week without letting the other know how you feel? *A/N: welp, i'm sorry in advance for how long this "drabble" turned out to be. after Yoongi's live yesterday i had way too much motivation and it was just total word vomit inspiration. happy birthday to our gorgeous cat boy! 🐱

Main Masterlist

Eight years ago, you were spending most nights in the study area of your university’s library. The building was empty aside from the few other students scattered around the area, seemingly studying for finals just as you were. You had been sitting at a table at the edge of the room for the last three hours, papers strewn everywhere and your calculus book laid open on the table, head in your hands, feeling entirely defeated. Working the same problem for the last thirty minutes still hadn’t changed your answer, and it was still wrong. You sighed, about to give up for the night, when you heard the sound of a chair scrape against the carpet to your left. Looking up, you saw a familiar face, one you hadn’t spoken to before, but familiar all the same. 

Min Yoongi. He was taking the same calculus class as you, and from what you assumed based on the posted class averages over the last few months, he was the one who had been basically floating the entire class thus far. You (and the rest of your class) had barely managed to earn passing grades on every exam you’d taken so far, except for Yoongi. He, on the other hand, had aced everything. You didn’t think there had been one exam that he’d scored less than a 95 on, and it frustrated you. How could calculus come so easy to him, when the rest of you were barely treading water?

“You look desperate. Need some help?” Yoongi asked as he sat in the chair next to you. He looked over at you expectantly, resting his elbows on the table, the thumb and index finger of one hand holding up his chin. 

“Actually, yes. I am so lost. There’s no way I’m gonna pass this class,” you responded, sighing. He turned your textbook to face him, scanning the page to see what you were working on. He laughed softly to himself, pushing his hair behind his ear before he looked back up at you.

“Okay, no problem. I’m done studying for this class already. We still have two days until our final, right? I got you,” he said confidently, his gummy smile peeking at you. He reached for your notebook, eyes skimming the pages in front of him. A minute later, he tapped the page. “I see the problem.”

Yoongi spent the next two hours tirelessly explaining everywhere (yes, multiple spots) you had gone wrong. Things were slowly starting to click, the gears in your head finally spinning in the right direction. Occasionally, they still got stuck, but he was doing a really good job of helping you to unstick them.

“We should call it a night. If you study too hard, you won’t remember anything we just did. Meet me tomorrow night at six at the dining hall if you want more help,” Yoongi said as he stood, packing his things back into his backpack. 

“The dining hall? That’s a really loud place to study,” you responded, a look of utter confusion painting your face.

“We’re not gonna study at the dining hall, dummy. We are, however, gonna have dinner before we come back to the library. You’re buying,” he said with a laugh as he turned and walked away.

The next night, after a quick dinner that was less awkward than you’d expected, you and Yoongi spent another three hours at the library, heads buried deep in your calculus textbook once again. At the end of your study session, you finally felt confident enough to take your final exam the following morning. And it was all thanks to Min Yoongi.

Your friendship blossomed after those late night study sessions. Although you didn’t have classes together anymore when your calculus class ended, you still managed to spend at least a few nights every week together. Sometimes you sat in his living room watching trashy reality tv (which he hated), other times you would cook together (which, let’s be real, more often than not led to Yoongi getting frustrated with your lack of cooking ability and finishing it himself while you watched). He had even dragged you to a few basketball games, much to your dismay since you didn’t particularly like sports. But you loved spending time with him, and seeing him get excited when his team was winning was worth the potential boredom for you.

The two of you basically grew up together. You had met when you were only twenty-two, about to graduate college, and now you were both pushing thirty. You both had fairly successful careers in your chosen fields (music production for him, finance for you), and you had been through more than your fair share of struggles together. You were the one who was there for him when his long term relationship fell apart, and he was the one who talked you off the ledge when you lost your mother almost immediately after. Being roommates with Yoongi made these hardships easier. Neither of you were alone when you were at your worst, you always had someone to turn to when you needed a distraction or a shoulder to cry on. After eight years of friendship, and four years of living together, you were certain that the two of you were platonic soulmates. 

The friend group you’d collected over the years had slowly become your family. Yoongi brought two of his childhood friends, Hobi and Jimin, along with his coworkers Namjoon and Taehyung, into your circle, and you’d accepted them all like they were your long-lost brothers. Three of them eventually married, growing your friend group even more because you had built-in female friends in their wives. Your best friend since birth, Seo-Jun, loved Yoongi just the same as you did. But, she loved Taehyung even more. You weren’t even the slightest bit surprised when they got together. This left you and Yoongi as the only ones left in your group who hadn’t married yet. But, at only thirty, neither of you cared too much about that. You were still enjoying your youth. Things were just easier when you weren’t tied down, having to worry about another person when making all your decisions. You could just be.

Both your and Yoongi’s lack of a romantic partner is what made you being roommates so simple. Unfortunately, this had been the downfall of his last relationship. The woman he was so sure about, but whom he wasn’t quite ready to marry, refused to accept that you were his best friend. She slowly worked her way into every part of his life, only to give him an ultimatum of moving out of your shared apartment and into hers and ending your friendship, or losing her altogether. Yoongi came to you for advice, but you couldn’t tell him what to do. You just wanted him to be happy, even if that meant losing him. You told him just that, even though it pained you to do so. He left that conversation and came back that evening, brokenhearted over the loss of who he thought was meant for him. You, on the other hand, had never had a long term relationship. You had dated people, certainly, but none had ever panned out for one reason or another. Most of the time it ended because of (so-called) unrealistic expectations on your end, or an obvious fear of being with a powerful woman on their end. Men didn’t appreciate the hard work you put into your career in finance, and were threatened by your independence and hard-charging nature. Ultimately, the two of you had made peace with the fact that maybe you were just meant to do life on your own, supporting and loving each other the way only best friends could. Your lack of romantic partners is also why the thing your friend group proposed one afternoon was comically shocking.

“A… couples’ trip,” Yoongi repeated, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. He looked over at you, noticing the way your entire body was shaking as you tried to control your laughter. 

“Listen. We know the two of you don’t have partners. But the rest of us really want to go on this trip together, and the resort will give us a group rate if we book five rooms!” Taehyung explained.

“It’s a really good discount. You guys already share an apartment. Why can’t you share a room for a week?” Seo-Jun asked, blinking up at you sweetly, trying her hardest to get her way. That tactic worked on Taehyung, but you weren’t sure why she expected it to work on you.

“It’s at a couples’ resort. It specifically says ‘couples only.’ We’d be found out so fast. No way could Yoon and I pass as a couple,” you told her, still laughing as you scrolled through the website Seo-Jun had sent to you.

“Please, just think about it! It’ll be fun. You guys don’t have to spend the entire week together. All you have to do is just share the room,” Namjoon’s wife, Ji-Ho, chimed in.

It was obvious that all of your friends really wanted you to agree to this bizarre plan. You could use a vacation, but the thought of having to pretend to be in a relationship with Min Yoongi? That would never work. What happened next shocked you even more than the original proposal.

“I’m down for it. As long as the room has two beds, because there’s no way I’m sharing a bed with her,” Yoongi finally said. Looking over at you, he added, “I’ve seen you starfished on your own bed too many times. No thank you.”

You feigned offense, placing your hand over your chest with a fake gasp on your face. He laughed, eyes scrunching closed in signature Yoongi fashion, shoving your shoulder playfully. You sighed, knowing you had to say yes now. 

“Okay, fine. We’re in,” you answered. Your answer was immediately met with squeals of excitement from the girls, a hug from Seo-Jun, and excited high fives amongst the guys. Amidst the chaos, you glanced over at Yoongi, seeing a small smile on his face that told you he was grateful for you having said yes to this insane plan.

Later that night, you were lying in bed after finishing your bedtime routine, ready to sleep, when intrusive thoughts began racing through your head. What would this “fake relationship” scenario look like? Would it be as simple as just holding Yoongi’s hand whenever you were in common areas of the resort so that staff wouldn’t catch on to your lie? What if there were couples’ activities that your friends were participating in; would you have to do those as well? The resort looked especially romantic, from what you’d seen on the website, and it made you wonder: could you do romance with Min Yoongi? What if you wanted to do romance with Min Yoongi?

You shook those thoughts off immediately, unwilling to consider anything other than what you already knew: Yoongi was nothing more than your best friend, and he would stay that way forever. You fell asleep shortly after, unbothered by your strange train of thought, reducing it to being caused by your incessant need to plan everything down to the minute, and the fact that you weren’t in control of this vacation.

At the other end of the hall, the same train of thought barged into Yoongi’s head, as if you had transferred your thoughts directly to him. However, his replies to himself were slightly different. He knew exactly how to survive this “couples’ week” with you. But one thing worried him more than anything else. What if he played up this fake romance too much and exposed himself? Would your friendship ever recover if his feelings for you came out? The anxiety kept him up most of the night, tossing and turning, wondering if this vacation was a good idea after all.

—

Two months later, your group of ten was scattered across a plane, sitting in pairs, heading to Mexico for your much anticipated vacation. The flight was short, only three hours, and you had had a particularly exhausting week at the office, so you planned to catch up on some sleep so you could arrive refreshed and ready to make the most of your week away. You were seated with Yoongi, of course, and before you knew it, you were nodding off, eyes closing slowly as you fell asleep, head resting against the window of the airplane. 

Yoongi’s breath caught in his chest as your head fell onto his shoulder. You were clearly in a deep sleep; he didn’t mind you resting there. Plus, in eight years of friendship, it’s not like the two of you hadn’t fallen asleep together a few times before. But every time it happened, his body reacted the same way. Hitched breathing, tensed muscles, fluttering heart rate. Somehow, you had never noticed, and he was thankful for that. He couldn’t stomach the thought of scaring you away if you ever found out.

The flight went smoothly, and just as soon as you had fallen asleep, you were being shaken awake by your best friend. “Hey. We’re here, get up!” he exclaimed.

You blinked a few times, trying to wake yourself up. The plane was already half empty, passengers trickling down the aisle with their belongings. You moved to grab your bag from under your seat, but Yoongi had the same idea. The side of your head smacked against his forehead, eliciting a loud groan from him.

“Seriously? We just got here and you’re already being mean to me. We’ll definitely pass for a couple,” he remarked, voice dripping with sarcasm. You rolled your eyes at him, knowing full well that he was just teasing you. You grabbed your bag with a huff of remorse, smiling at him after that.

Bags finally obtained, you left your seats and exited the airplane, joining your group at baggage claim. Three of the couples already had their suitcases, but the luggage was still coming out, so it wouldn’t be long until the rest of you were able to retrieve your own bags. Once your bags arrived, your group headed toward the arrivals hall, searching for the driver who would be waiting for you.

The resort you were staying at prided itself on “all-inclusive service from arrival to departure,” which meant that you were picked up from the airport upon arrival, driven to the resort, where you would be bathed in luxury for the entirety of your stay, and then driven back to the airport on the day of your departure. This ensured that none of you would have to lift a finger the whole week. Everything was included in your booking, from food and drinks (even most alcohol), to daily scheduled activities and even off-resort trips. At check-in, each “couple” (said lightly, since you and Yoongi weren’t really a couple) received their room keys and a printout of the week’s events. The rest of your group went first, leaving you and Yoongi to check in last.

“And finally, Mr. and Mrs. Min. Here are your keys and this week’s schedule. We hope you enjoy your stay with us, and please don’t hesitate to come to us for anything you may need this week,” the receptionist said warmly.

Yoongi looked over at you standing next to him, gauging how well you were playing your part. You smiled at him, a small glint of affection in your eyes. He smiled back at you, glad that the receptionist’s belief that you were married didn’t seem to bother you. There was nothing else he needed in this world if it meant you’d smile at him that way every day.

Once the check-in process was finished, you and your friends gathered together, comparing room locations. The resort had informed you when you first booked your trip that even though you’d booked your rooms with a group rate, that didn’t guarantee you’d all be staying near each other. This turned out to be true; all of your rooms were spread out across the resort, except for the rooms assigned to Namjoon and Taehyung and their wives. The four of them had rooms directly across from each other. 

“Alright everyone. Let’s go get settled in and check everything out. We can meet back up for dinner, say around seven?” Jimin asked. Everyone agreed and the group parted ways, leaving you and Yoongi alone to find your room on the small map given to you by the front desk.

Your room wasn’t too far from the lobby. On the way there, you passed a large pool with a swim-up bar, a basketball court (which excited Yoongi, as expected), and a gym that looked to be pretty well equipped with various exercise machines and plenty of floor space for individual workouts. Following the path out of the central area and around the backside of the resort, you were greeted by a sweeping expanse of ocean. You stopped in your tracks, eyes lit up, not believing what you were seeing. After all, you didn’t live close to the beach, and had only seen the ocean a few times before in your life. The ones you’d been to were nothing compared to the view in front of you. The water was crystal clear, a vibrant shade of turquoise as far as you could see.

“C’mon, you goon. It’s just the ocean,” Yoongi said from up ahead, pulling you out of your daze. You rolled your eyes at him once again, following him along the path to get to your room. He was several steps ahead of you, arriving at the door of your room quickly, while you were still meandering along the path to catch up to him, finding it hard to concentrate on anything except the beautiful ocean to your left. You watched him as he used his key to unlock the door, opening it and walking through the entryway. You caught up to him soon after, entering the room yourself, but you were stopped by the sudden force of walking directly into Yoongi’s back, throwing you back a bit.

“What’s your problem?” you asked, smacking his shoulder blade lightly.

He turned to face you, replying with, “Not my problem. Our problem.” With that he pointed to the inside of your room. You looked over his shoulder to see exactly what he was referring to.

One king-sized bed was staring you straight in the face from the center of the room.

“Oh,” you let out, a look of surprise spreading across your face. 

“It’s okay. I’ll take care of it,” Yoongi reassured you as he stepped around you and walked back out the door. You were left standing alone in the room after that, not wanting to move to avoid messing up the room for the housekeeping staff who would inevitably come to check out the room after the two of you were switched to the correct room type.

Ten minutes passed before you heard the click of the door unlocking behind you. Yoongi walked in with a defeated look in his eyes. He sighed, smiling at you gently.

“Do you want the good news or the bad news first?”

“Yoon, just stop. Did you get it fixed?” you replied, an exasperated puff of air leaving your lips.

“Well, no. I didn’t. Apparently this is one of their busiest weeks and they just don’t have another room to switch us to. They said the rooms with two beds were reserved only for handicapped guests needing accessible accommodations,” Yoongi explained.

“So, what you’re saying is that we have to spend the next week somehow sharing a bed. What could possibly be the ‘good news’ in this situation?” you asked him, your tone of voice raising to a shrill whine.

“The good news is that they gave us a voucher for fifty percent off dinner at their premium restaurant. But yes, we are gonna have to share the bed,” Yoongi finished.

You sighed, a look of absolute terror on your face. In all the years the two of you had been friends, you had never shared a bed. Sure, you’d fallen asleep together during a movie on your couch many times, or like earlier on the plane, but actually sharing a bed? No. The thought had never crossed your mind. That was a level of intimacy that you never wanted, afraid of how it could turn out. You knew you moved around a lot in your sleep. What if you tried to cuddle him in your sleep? Or worse, what if you tried to cuddle him and he rejected you? You shook your head, trying to clear your mind.

“Uh… you alright? It’s honestly not a big deal to me. It’s just sleeping,” Yoongi said with a shrug of his shoulders, hand running through his hair.

“Um, yeah, sorry. Yeah, I’m good. No big deal,” you stuttered, trying not to sound too shaken by this new development.

“Alright then. That’s settled,” Yoongi replied enthusiastically, “what do you wanna do until we meet the others for dinner?”

“I don’t know about you, but I’m going down to the beach. We have, what, two hours?”

Before he could even answer you, you were rifling through your suitcase, pulling out one of the swimsuits you’d brought for the trip. You squeezed past Yoongi to get to the bathroom to change, taking only a minute to rid yourself of your travel clothes and swap them with the tiny blue bikini you’d bought the week before. You didn’t usually have the confidence to wear swimsuits, instead choosing to swim in shorts and a swim shirt, but hell, you were on vacation and you were going to take advantage of that. You didn’t even bother to put a coverup over your swimsuit before opening the bathroom door and returning to your suitcase to grab your sunscreen and towel.

Yoongi stopped what he was doing, not fully processing the sight in front of him. His mouth agape, he couldn’t help but to let his eyes linger on your barely clothed form across the room. He wasn’t huge on swimming, and the few times he had gone to the pool with you, you hadn’t worn anything like that before. Looking at you, dressed like that, stirred up feelings that had long since been buried in the back of his mind. He wished you had shown him this part of yourself years ago. If you had, maybe he would’ve had the courage to tell you his feelings for you.

“Hey. Earth to Yoon,” your voice rang out, fingers snapping inches from his face. He shook his head, coming back to reality. 

“Sorry. What?” he asked, rubbing the side of his face, trying to shake off the completely impure thoughts racing through his brain.

“I asked you if you can get my back,” you repeated, shaking the bottle of sunscreen out at him. He took it from you, hesitantly opening the cap and squeezing some out onto his palm. You turned around and lifted your ponytail up to give him a clean canvas to paint with the protective layer. You jumped a little as his cold hands touched your spine, feeling his fingers massage the lotion into your back. 

Yoongi bit his lip as he concentrated on making sure to cover your entire back and the rest of your shoulders that you couldn’t reach. This small, friendly action definitely wasn’t helping to ward off the impure thoughts from just a minute ago. In fact, it was only fueling them. He imagined his hands roaming elsewhere on your body, getting to touch you in places that had always been off limits to him, imagining your body writhing underneath him. These thoughts had been tormenting him for months now, which both surprised him entirely and also completely didn’t. He took a deep breath as he slipped his hand underneath the string of your bikini top to make sure he hadn’t missed any spots, then clapped both his hands on your shoulders and gently shoved you toward the door.

“All done. Now go, have fun, try not to drown,” Yoongi said with a laugh as he watched you walk out the door.

Left alone with only his own thoughts, Yoongi’s mind began to wander. What if he did tell you how he felt? The two of you had been friends for so long that he felt like it could go one of two ways. One, you’d laugh it off and tell him he was being ridiculous, and then you’d forget about it, and your friendship would remain intact. Or two, you wouldn’t be able to understand and it would cause irreparable damage to the friendship you’d been building over the last eight years. He didn’t know which option was worse, telling you and facing rejection, possibly losing the best friend he’d ever had; or not telling you, and living with the weight of his unconfessed feelings forever. This week, he’d be living in even closer quarters with you than normal, and he wasn’t sure how to get through it. But he was going to try his hardest to act like nothing was going on inside his head.

–

Seven o’clock rolled around and the two of you met up with the rest of your friends for dinner at the agreed upon restaurant. Namjoon had called ahead to make sure they could seat all ten of you together, so there was a large table toward the back of the restaurant waiting for your group when you arrived. Everyone sat down, ready to catch up and talk about how the rooms were and how they’d spent their first few hours at the resort.

“So, we have some fun news,” Yoongi said with a laugh. That got everyone’s attention, most of the group looking up from their menus to give him their full attention.

“Our room only has one bed. Yoon tried to get us switched to a different room, but there was nothing available. So, we’re stuck sharing for the week,” you explained.

An awkward silence took over the group. A few seconds passed, and suddenly, Jimin and Hobi were cracking up laughing. The rest of the table stared at them, unsure what was so funny. Yoongi, of course, knew exactly why they were laughing, but he trusted them to come up with an excuse that wouldn’t blow his cover.

“Phew. Sorry, I’m just imagining Yoongi curled up in a tiny ball while ____ spreads out across the bed the whole week,” Hobi explained, wiping a tear from the corner of his eye that had been pushed out by his laughter. Jimin nodded in agreement, but Yoongi didn’t miss the knowing look that he shot him before the subject naturally changed to everyone’s afternoon activities. You shared about your time on the beach, telling everyone how nice the water was and that you loved being able to go whenever you felt like it. Namjoon had spent his time reading, while Yoongi had played a bit of basketball. The rest of the group had just relaxed in their rooms until it was time to get ready for dinner. 

Dinner passed quickly, drinks flowing freely with everyone in full vacation mode. The ten of you always had a great time when you were together, although more often than not most of you drank more than you should, at the insistence of Jimin. Tonight was no different. Yoongi was three glasses of whiskey deep into a bottle the other guys had purchased. You and the girls were drinking fruity cocktails, yours containing more tequila than fruit. Hobi had turned completely red-faced after drinking his second drink, and the rest were drinking a combination of the whiskey and some other drinks that Jimin ordered for them. You were glad you were on vacation, because you knew you would wake up at least some degree of hungover the next morning. You spent so much time at the restaurant that your server had to come tell you that you needed to leave because it was closing time. Everyone gathered their things, talking amongst themselves about if they should move to the resort’s nightclub for a few more drinks.

“I think I’m actually gonna go back to the room for the night. I do not want to spend this entire trip vomiting from trying to keep up with Jimin,” you said as you picked up your purse, waving goodbye to the group as you walked away.

The rest of your friends walked in the opposite direction, heading to the nightclub. Yoongi and Jimin were the stragglers of the group, walking a few feet behind everyone else. Jimin nudged Yoongi with an elbow to the ribs, cocking his head to the side before he said what he’d been meaning to say all night.

“Bro, are you ever gonna tell her how you feel?”

Yoongi sputtered, unsure how to reply. He knew that Jimin knew, obviously. He had admitted it himself years ago when Jimin had questioned why he would move in with you if you didn’t share his feelings. Back then, he had tried to come up with excuses and act like he didn’t know what Jimin was talking about, but Jimin had coaxed it out of him. He was sworn to secrecy and had kept his word so far, rarely even mentioning it except for in situations like this (situations being drunk nights together when you left early and Yoongi was stuck with him, watching you leave).

“Minie, I told you. I can’t,” Yoongi replied, sighing.

“Why not?”

“I’ll ruin everything. I can’t lose her,” Yoongi answered. He was drunk, but he wasn’t stupid. He knew that telling you he was in love with you would fuck up your friendship, and that was something he could never take back once it was out in the open.

“Listen. You might think it’ll ruin everything. But I don’t think so. I’ve seen how you two are together. You’re best friends. I think you need to tell her, before you don’t have the chance anymore. I’ve been keeping this to myself for years because you asked me not to bring it up. But I just can’t keep watching you suffer when there’s a really simple solution. Just tell her,” Jimin let out in one quick response.

Yoongi stared at him, wide-eyed. He knew Jimin was right, but he never thought he’d have the courage to go through with it. Luckily for him, Jimin had just the thing to help calm his nerves. He handed Yoongi a small flask, and he took a gulp of the bitter liquid, handing it back. It was now or never.

“Good luck, man,” Jimin said, clapping him on the back and pushing him back in the direction of your shared room.

Yoongi took several deep breaths as he walked, unsure who was controlling his movements, because it sure as hell wasn’t him. He had no idea how he would even begin to get this out, but the combination of Jimin’s confidence in him, and the shot of liquid courage he’d just downed, made him feel like he could.

Before he knew it, he was using his key to enter your room. You turned around at the sound of the door shutting behind him, surprised to see him.

“What happened to everyone going to the nightclub?” you questioned, confused look on your face.

“Ah, yeah. They did. I just decided to come back early. Started feeling the liquor a little more and I knew I’d regret it if I kept drinking,” Yoongi explained, hand rubbing the back of his neck, a small smile on his lips. 

“Makes sense. That’s exactly why I didn’t go out either,” you said, laughing at the thought of your entire group stumbling back to their rooms in the dead of the night.

You continued getting ready for bed, going into the bathroom to brush your teeth. Yoongi followed you, and you scooted over for him to share the sink with you as he washed his face and brushed his teeth as well.

You left him in the bathroom, claiming the right side of the bed before he could give an opinion on which side he wanted. You curled up under the soft comforter, turning over to switch off your bedside light, deciding that sleeping facing the wall would probably be in your best interest this week. 

“Figures,” Yoongi scoffed as he shuffled his socked feet across the room to climb into bed next to you. You knew that Yoongi preferred the right side of the bed, but so did you, so it was only fair for whoever got there first to call dibs on it. You felt the bed dip down behind you as Yoongi laid down, and his light turned off seconds after. The room was quiet, only the sounds of the ceiling fan and Yoongi’s deep breathing saving you from being too restless to sleep.

Minutes passed, and you were starting to drift off when you heard Yoongi turn over onto his side. Suddenly, you felt his warm hand on your arm.

“Hey, are you still awake?”

“Yeah,” you responded quietly.

A deep, shaky breath left Yoongi’s lips, and then, “Can I talk to you about something?”

Your breath caught in your throat. In all the years you had been friends, he had never asked to talk to you about something. Any problem he had with you was always blurted out at random, which was something you admired about him. He was never afraid to speak his mind when it came to you or his other friends, so his hesitancy worried you. You rolled over to face him, feeling like whatever it was should be said face to face instead of said to your back.

“What’s up?” you asked him. The moonlight shone through the gaps of the curtains on the window across the room, illuminating his face in the otherwise dark room. You looked at him, seeing a discomfort that you rarely noticed in him. You had only seen that look in his eyes a few other times, which confused you even more. Yoongi took a few more deep breaths before beginning.

“This isn’t something I ever planned to tell you. Shit, it isn’t something I ever planned to feel at all. But I do, and I just can’t go on acting like there’s nothing going on with me. Jimin was the one who gave me the push I needed to finally tell you. But the truth is, I am so fucking in love with you. I have been since the summer after graduation. We got so close and you became my best friend, and I didn’t want to mess any of that up, so I kept it to myself for so long. But I just can’t anymore,” Yoongi breathed out, his eyes locked on yours, his hand gripping your bicep lightly.

Yoongi was met with nothing but silence. The look on your face went from confused, to shocked, to utterly terrified. You didn’t break away from his gaze, which was at least something, but you didn’t say anything either. Finally, after what felt like hours, you let out a shaky breath and opened your mouth to speak.

“Yoon,” you started, voice cracking. You knew you were on the verge of tears, but you tried your best to hold them back so you could get out what you needed to say. “I… I don’t know what to say. You’re my best friend, and I’d be lying if I said I’ve never thought about you that way, but I don’t think it’s a good idea.”

“Why not, ____? We know everything about each other. We’ve been through so much together. What could it hurt?” Yoongi pleaded, his fingers tracing along your arm lightly as he spoke.

“I just don’t want to lose you, Yoon. You’re my best friend. If it didn’t work out… I couldn’t take losing you for good,” you explained. You broke his gaze, unable to deal with looking him directly in the eye anymore. You knew you were hurting him, which was bad enough, but to see the hurt right in front of your face like that? It wasn’t something you could bear.

“____. It would be so easy. You and me, we’re like soulmates, yeah? We’ve always said that, haven’t we? I promise, we could make it work.” With that, you felt his hand run up your arm and shoulder to your face, cupping your cheek in his hand lightly, running his thumb over your skin. You stilled, eyes on him again. Your heart was racing, about to beat out of your chest. You shivered, and you hesitantly brought your hand up to rest on his waist.

“Promise me one thing, Yoon. Promise me our friendship will be okay,” you breathed out. Yoongi nodded, never breaking eye contact with you as he leaned in and softly touched his lips to yours. Your breath caught in your throat as he kissed you, feeling a heat you’d never felt before. His hand moved down to your neck, nudging your head to the side with his nose as he deepened the kiss. His tongue met yours, lazily, but hungrily. It was as though he wanted to devour you through his kiss alone. 

His hand left your neck, moving to your hip and pulling you into him. Your arm wrapped around his back, sliding your hand up to tangle in his hair. He twisted his body to push you onto your back, breaking the kiss to move down to your neck. His lips ghosted over the column of your throat, gentle, heated kisses landing on your neck and collarbone. He reached down to grab the bottom of your shirt, lifting it up and over your head. He was met with the sight of your beautiful bare torso underneath him, chest heaving as you breathed heavily, eyes locking on his. You did the same to him, pulling his shirt off and tossing it to the side. He continued his sporadic kissing, moving down to your chest until his lips settled on the bud of your left breast. Looking up at you, he hesitantly took the nipple into his mouth, tongue licking circles around it. A whine escaped your lips, and Yoongi knew then that he could listen to your sounds all night if you let him.

Your hips bucked up into him, and his breathing hitched, feeling your body against his. He reached down and hooked his thumbs into the waistband of your pajama bottoms, sliding both layers you had on down your legs until he could pull them off and savor the image of you, completely naked, reacting to his every touch. 

“Fuck, you’re beautiful,” he breathed out, hands running up your legs until they rested on your thighs. Slowly, he parted your legs, positioning himself between them. He left a few gentle kisses on your lower abdomen, tongue darting out to lick a path from your belly button down to your mound. Taking one more look up at you, and seeing your pupils blown with lust, was all the encouragement he needed as he dragged his wet tongue through your folds, teasing at your entrance before he brought it back up to circle your clit.

“Yoon..” you gasped out, one hand going to your breast, squeezing it and playing with the nipple. It was partially for you because you enjoyed the stimulation, but also for him as well, giving him a show to pay attention to as he devoured you like you were his last meal. 

You let out another loud moan as he pushed two of his fingers into your pussy, his tongue fervently lapping up your slick as he hooked his fingers just right for you to see stars. You bucked your hips against his fingers, wanting every inch of him inside of you.

“That’s it. You’re so pretty fucking yourself on my fingers,” Yoongi told you, using the other hand to push down gently on your lower stomach. The extra sensation, combined with his tongue tracing patterns through your folds, nearly sent you over the edge right then. Your moans grew more desperate, breathing becoming more erratic as he groaned into your pussy, enjoying giving you pleasure as much as you enjoyed getting it. Just then, he took your clit in between his lips, sucking gently, his fingers not stopping their consistent thrusting into you. He watched you as he took you over the edge, your orgasm ripping through you like no other. Your moans and whines spilled out, saying his name over and over as he used his tongue to help you ride it out. He only stopped when you forcefully pushed his head away from you, unable to take the overstimulation. Your entire body was weak, shaking uncontrollably underneath him. You pulled him by the arm up and over you, kissing him messily, not caring about tasting yourself on his lips.

Still kissing you, refusing to break the connection between the two of you, he reached down and clumsily pushed his sweatpants and boxers down, kicking them off his ankles onto the floor. You watched as his cock sprung free, salivating at the sight of it. Bringing himself up into the space between your thighs again, you couldn’t help yourself as you reached down and wrapped your hand around him, pumping him a few times, watching as his head fell to your shoulder, his breathing coming out in short gasps. With that, you guided him slowly to your entrance, wanting nothing more than to have him inside you at that moment.

“Yoon, please, I need you,” you whined, eyes on him as he pushed just the tip of his cock into you, going slowly to allow you time to adjust to his size. You were so wet that he slid into you with no resistance, his moans tumbling out as he bottomed out, pelvis touching yours. He raised his torso up with his forearms, kissing you as he began to slowly thrust into you. You wrapped your legs around his waist, crossing your ankles to hold them together as you held the back of his neck. You were already so sensitive from your previous orgasm that the sweet drag of his cock against your walls had you begging for more sooner than you expected. His thrusts became rougher, sending the sound of skin slapping against skin throughout the room. 

Your second orgasm already building, Yoongi reached down between you and rubbed tiny circles on your clit, pushing into you erratically. He struggled to keep a rhythm as his own release came closer, and his kisses grew sloppy as he continued rubbing his fingers gently on you. The second orgasm wasn’t as strong, but regardless, your body shook as it overpowered you, walls contracting around his cock. The new sensation set off Yoongi’s orgasm soon after. He groaned out loudly as he thrusted into you a few more times, collapsing on top of you as you both came down from your shared high. There was silence aside from your heavy breathing as he pulled out of you and laid next to you, kissing your temple as he wrapped you up in his arms. You huddled into his embrace, face resting against his chest, listening as his heart rate slowly regulated.

“Hey,” Yoongi whispered.

“Yeah?” you whispered back, afraid to move from the warmth of his arms.

“Nothing’s changed. You’re still my best friend, and I’m still in love with you,” he answered, placing a slow kiss to your forehead as he squeezed you tighter.

“I love you too, Yoongi,” you said in response, hugging him back even tighter.

You weren’t sure if this would last, or if it would even work at all, but that was a question to save for another day. Tonight, all you wanted to do was fall asleep in the arms of the man who had been there for you for eight years, the man you’d loved for half of that time. You didn’t have all the answers, but one thing you were sure about? You were so, so glad that you sucked at calculus.

#bts fic #bts smut #min yoongi #yoongi x reader #yoongi smut #yoongi fanfic #yoongi fic #suga x reader #suga fanfic #suga fic #suga smut #yoongi one shot #btswritersclub #yoongi

[casuallyimagining]

Family. Duty. Self. || myg

Less of Them - One: Family. Duty. Self.

NSFW. minors dni Pairing: Min Yoongi x reader Genre: arranged marriage au, established relationship, star-crossed lovers, angst, smut, fluff Word Count: 9,968

Summary: As the daughter of one of the oldest families in the kingdom, when the king decides that it's you he wishes to marry, you're forced to make a decision and fulfill your duty, leaving behind everything you've ever known--and the only man you've ever loved.

Warnings: weaponry (swords), language; nsfw: awkward first-time, hand-job, fingering, unprotected sex

Notes: Thanks to @oddinary4bts for really coming in clutch and helping with the smut and to both her and @daechwitatamic for encouraging me to make it more sad.

The book mc is reading at the beginning is Wurthering Heights.

"I do know there are all kinds of barriers to love. I do believe the world needs less of them." - Lang Leav

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The snow began to drive thickly. I seized the handle to essay another trial; when a young man without coat, and shouldering a pitchfork, appeared in the yard behind.

The clank of metal against metal grates against your ears and jolts you out of your book. It’s a nice day, and you had some free time; you thought that maybe it would be nice to read outside for a change. But now, you aren’t sure that was the greatest idea you’d ever had.

…shouldering a pitchfork, appeared in the yard behind. He hailed me to follow him, and, after marching through a wash-house, and a paved area containing a coal-shed, pump, and pigeon-cot, we at length arrived in the huge, warm, cheerful apartment where I was formerly received. It glowed delightfully-

The soft thump of a dulled blade hitting the softness of a body and an exasperated curse again draws you away.

“Again,” a gruff voice commands, and there’s the clink of metal clashing briefly.

Another voice groans. “This is pointless.”

“Your father told me to teach you how to fight,” the first voice says. “Again.”

You roll your eyes. They’d been at this for a week now. You were starting to believe that maybe it was pointless.

It glowed delightfully in the radiance of an immense fire, compounded of coal, peat, and wood; and near the table, laid for a plentiful evening meal, I was pleased to observe the “missis,” an individual whose existence I had never previously-

Metal against metal once again, and then the clatter of a sword falling into the dirt. A frustrated sigh.

I bowed and waited, thinking she would bid me-

A soft thud, then, “Shit.”

I bowed and waited, thinking-

The shriek of metal on metal, then the clatter of a sword hitting the dirt. “Shit!”

I bowed and-

“Take a break,” the gruff voice says, and the second voice grumbles something in response. “Don’t go far. We have more work to do.”

You try to go back to your book, you really do. But then a body plops down under the tree beside you. Ever so gently, the book is taken from your hands. He keeps a finger in the pages to mark where you’d left off, but he turns the book to inspect the cover and the spine. He hums. It’s his book.

“You shouldn’t torture him like that,” you chide once he’s returned the book to your hands. “You know he isn’t suited for it.”

“Your father wants him trained.”

“You and I both know Namjoon has no business on a battlefield.”

At that, he laughs. “His form is really terrible.”

“Even I’m better than he is.”

“Is that right?”

“Oh come on, Yoon.” You roll your eyes and nudge him slightly. You both know you’re right. His father had trained you beside Yoongi, and while you hadn’t been as quick to the blade as the young knight, you could defend yourself well enough.

He stands, plucks the book from your hand once again, and leans in so that his face is mere centimeters from your own. “Come, then, my lady. Prove yourself.”

You roll your eyes. “You can’t be serious.”

“Deadly.” 

He closes the gap, lips connecting to yours ever so briefly. Even though the kiss is short, it sets your veins alight all the same.

“Fine,” you say when he pulls back. “To battle, then, Min Yoongi.”

He smirks, and you steal a kiss when he helps you stand. For a moment, he has the audacity to look offended, but you push him out of the way.

“Come on,” you say. “You wanted to spar. Let’s get it over with.”

“We’ll see how smug you are when you’ve been defeated.”

You shrug and follow him to the training yard. It’s only a few feet from the tree you had been reading under, but your back had been to it, and you’d been unable to see Namjoon before he left. Now, though, you can see that your younger brother had gone in a huff, his practice sword tossed carelessly to the side. You pick it up. It’s a bastard sword, longer than you’d like and a little on the heavy side, but it’ll do. You roll your wrist, testing the balance as you wait for Yoongi to ready himself.

As he turns to face you, you widen your stance. You know you look ridiculous, legs and arms wide, positioned better to climb a tree than for sword fighting. It has its intended effect, though, because Yoongi erupts into a fit of near-silent giggles, shoulders shaking and eyes crinkled at the corners.

“What are you doing?” he asks gleefully.

“Are we not fighting?” you question, deepening your voice to match Namjoon’s lower timbre. “Is this not how you do it?”

He almost drops his sword, he laughs so hard. “Okay, fine,” he says, body still shaking from giggles. “You can go back to your book.”

You smile. That hadn’t really been your goal, but you aren’t one to turn down an opportunity. You hand him the practice sword as you pass and open your mouth to leave him with one last quip about trying to be patient with Namjoon, but he catches your waist as soon as he can and pulls you flush against him. Immediately, your hands come up to rest on his chest, playing with the loose collar of his cream colored shirt.

“Can I help you, sir?” you ask coyly, tugging a little at the fabric over his collarbone.

“I don’t know,” he whispers, lips mere centimeters from your ear. “Can you?”

He kisses you then, properly this time, firm hands on the small of your back, holding you against his body. He’s warm and soft and solid, and you can smell a hint of the cologne you’d bought him for his last birthday. His kiss is slow, almost lazy, but there’s a greed in it, like he could keep at this forever if you’d let him.

You’re tempted to let him.

You slide your hand up his chest to tangle in the short strands of hair at the nape of his neck. You give a gentle tug, and he lets out a low whine.

“Don’t tease, my lady,” he mumbles darkly, pulling away just far enough to kiss up your jaw. “I’m afraid you’ll start something you aren’t prepared to finish.”

You never get the chance to respond. Namjoon calls your name, his voice floating down from the walkway that overlooks the courtyard. Immediately, Yoongi jumps away from you. Your relationship is no secret, but he’s always been shy, and you’ve long grown used to his fleeing any time anyone sneaks up on you.

Namjoon calls for you again, this time, his voice is closer, and when you turn, you can see he’s running down the stairs. He pauses momentarily, catching his breath for just a second before blurting out, “Father is looking for you. He’s received some official-looking letter and asked me to come fetch you.”

You hum and nod. “Alright. Tell him I’ll be along soon.”

Namjoon shakes his head. “I don’t think that’s a good idea. You’d better come now.”

Your eyes drift to Yoongi, who stands now just off to the side. His cheeks and ears are tinged ever so slightly pink, and he busies himself with inspecting one of the practice blades. He must feel you looking at him, because his dark eyes connect with yours. You shoot him a look that you hope conveys an apology. He nods toward the keep silently before picking up the discarded sword and wandering off in the direction of the armory.

“Lead the way,” you tell your brother, gesturing in the direction he’d come from.

You follow him out of the yard, up the stairs onto the walkway and into the keep. Evening is starting to fall, and the attendants already have the sconces lit in the halls to stave off the darkness. You pass some of them as you go, and they nod respectfully–more to you than to Namjoon, but he’s younger and has never really cared about being deferred to in the way that you are. 

He leads you to your father’s study, and when you enter, you’re shocked at how full it is. You’ve always loved this room, filled to the brim with the finely crafted furniture made by the people of the forest town. Blackwood trees are known to have a delicate, earthy aroma long after they’ve been felled, so the study has always smelled as warm and inviting as it felt. Now, though, with the number of eyes that dart in your direction when the door opens, you’re uncomfortable.

The five of them sit at the heavy, ebony round table in the center of the room. Your father sits with his back to the window, his fingers steepled and his brow furrowed, papers strewn about in front of him. To his left sits your step-mother, a rare good day for her. She looks grim, but you get the sense that the pain she’s feeling may not be just her own. Namjoon takes a seat to her right. To your father’s left sits Jaesung, your father’s advisor and head of the armory for as long as you can remember. The look on his face is neutral, but you can see an anger behind his eyes. In nearly 30 years, you’ve never seen Jaesung angry. Beside him sits Seokjin, your elder step-brother, a fidgeting ball of nerves. 

“Come,” your father says gently, gesturing to the empty chair across from him. “Sit. We have much to discuss.”

You can feel a chill as you pass them all. Your step-mother, paralyzed by an unknown pain. Jaesung, poised for a war you don’t yet understand. And Seokjin, who refuses to look at you, even as you sit down beside him. 

It all makes you nervous.

Your father stands, the chair pushing out behind him as he leans forward, passing you the papers in front of him. It’s a letter, the wax seal on the envelope indicating it was sent from the Ironhold.

A letter from the king, you muse. What could he possibly want?

It’s no secret that there’s little love between your family–the Lins of Castle Blackwood–and the Chois in the Crownlands. The Chois have sat on the throne of Cotaria for hundreds of years, and the seat of the Crownlands for hundreds of years before that, and their customs have been around for just as long. They don’t like how your father rules the Westerlands, but there isn’t much they can do about it. The Lin family is far older and has had far longer to build ties, and you contribute more to the Crown’s stores than the Chois would care to admit. 

Your gaze falls to the letter in your hands, reading but not comprehending what it says. You fixate on certain words. Duty. King. Auspicious. Marriage. But no matter how many times you read it, no matter how long you stare at the neatly printed words in front of you, they don’t make sense.

The room is quiet. Too quiet. You don’t like how long it’s been since someone’s said something, don’t like how they watch you. Your mouth is dry, and it feels like you’ve tried to swallow a rock.

“This is real?” you manage, swallowing hard. When did your hands start shaking?

“I’m afraid so,” your father responds. His voice is soft, measured.

“And?”

“We did not ask for this.”

“And yet here we are.”

He sighs. “And yet here we are.”

You close your fist around the paper, crumpling it. Beside you, Seokjin jumps, startled. For the briefest of moments, you close your eyes.

Marriage to the king. A man you’d met once three years ago at his father’s funeral. He’d been miserable then, a spoiled brat too accustomed to getting his own way. You’d dreaded the funeral, dreaded being forced to interact with the young king, dreaded having to be pleasant to him. But you’d plastered on a smile and endured the funeral and feast. And now he wanted to take you away from your home, your family.

Your Yoongi.

You shake your head, forcing your thoughts back to your father’s study. You can’t think of him right now. “This,” you lift your fist, the letter still clutched tightly within. “I don’t really have a choice, do I?”

“There’s always a choice,” Namjoon blurts, immediately shrinking back into his chair. 

Your father hums. “You can decline. Your brother is right.”

“Jaesung?” The man’s eyes snap to yours, and you’re struck by how similar they are to his son’s–dark, cat-like, ever-observant. “If I say no…?”

He takes a moment, his head bobbing back and forth as he weighs the options. “Chances of retaliation are high, yes.”

“We would weather it,” your father says. “Our family has endured far worse.”

“And if they strip us of our titles? Take away our home?” You toss the letter into the center of the table. “Either way, we lose.”

“So just tell him to fuck off,” Namjoon says. Your step-mother frowns, and immediately, he wilts under her gaze. “Sorry, mother. But you understand what I mean. If both options are bad, pick the best worst choice.”

You glance up, above your father, above the window behind him. The family crest hangs there, centered on the wall. A sea of blue with green chevron, golden thistle in the foreground. The Lin family words are engraved into the bottom: Loyalty does not yield. 

Loyalty. It’s been ingrained in you since birth. To family, duty, self. All three in tandem. Now, though, they’re pitted against each other. Your family against your own desires. Your desires against your duty. An impossible choice.

You make eye contact with your father across the table. He nods almost imperceptibly and sighs.

“The steward arrives tomorrow?” you ask softly.

Jaesung nods. “Letter said they would arrive the day after it did.”

“Okay.”

There’s precious little to discuss after that. Jaesung is the first to go, the war in his eyes more fierce than when you’d entered. He doesn’t look at you as he goes. Your stepmother leaves shortly after, walking around the table to you. Her hands find your shoulders, skin cold against yours. She gives a gentle squeeze and kisses the top of your head.

When she’s gone and the door is closed behind her, Namjoon erupts. “You realize how ridiculous this is, right?” he asks. It’s directed toward your father. “They would never dream of doing this to any of the other old families.” 

Seokjin sighs. “They couldn’t.” His voice is soft, but holds all the authority of older brother.

Ever insightful, your step-brother is right. The Lin family is the only one of the old families that allows for a female heir, and even then, your father had only married Seokjin and Namjoon’s mother after his first wife–your mother–had died. You’d been here first. In your father’s mind, you were the clear heir. It helps that Seokjin, older than you by one year, has never shown much interest in leading, and between you and Namjoon, you have always been more eager to learn everything. But because all of the other heirs of the old families are male, they will never be put in this position.

You stand. Your head hurts, and so does your heart. You don’t look at your father as you leave the study, too afraid of what you might see.

You’d intended to go to your chambers, but when you get to the staircase, instead of going up, you go down. Yoongi’s chamber is at the end of this wing of the castle, closest to the outer wall and the library tower. Over the years, you’ve probably spent just as much time there as you have in your own chambers. But this is the first time you’ve felt nervous standing at his door.

You knock. You almost never knock, but it feels weird barging in right now, when you’re standing on the precipice of a future so far in the opposite direction of what you’d been imagining. The door opens, and there he is, leaning casually against the heavy, blackwood door. You must be some sort of sight, because almost immediately, he frowns, a small crease appearing between his eyebrows.

“Jagi?” he asks, concern evident in his voice.

It’s all it takes. You surge forward, hands coming up to cup his face gently. It’s easy to fall into him, easy to lose yourself in his kiss. He lets you push him back into his room, shutting and locking the door behind you in one easy motion. 

He laughs a little as you kiss up his jaw. “To what do I owe this pleasure?”

You don’t answer. Right now, you just want to lose yourself in him. The room is not large, and you’re able to push him toward the bed in only a few steps. He pauses when his legs hit the edge of the goose feather mattress. Gently, you push and he falls backward, his hands on your waist pulling you down with him.

You hover over him for a moment, just holding his gaze, losing yourself in the dark eyes you’ve come to love so much. You wonder if he’s able to read the distress in your eyes–maybe he is, because he pulls you down in a kiss that leaves your mind spinning, as his hands tighten on your waist ever so slightly.

His tongue hesitantly darts out to meet your lips, and surprised, you pull away to meet his gaze again. His cheeks are slightly flushed pink, and his lips glisten prettily in the light of the sconce on the wall. 

You survey his features carefully, feeling your own cheeks turning red as you realize that you don’t want to stop. Not tonight. You want to be able to feel him at least once before you have to go. You bend down again to capture his lips in a languid kiss, welcoming his tongue against your own the moment he does it again.

You gently move your hands up his frame, burying them in his soft hair as he wraps his arms around you to pull you flush against him. You have half a thought that you’ll crush him, but you can’t bring yourself to care as his tongue awkwardly swipes at yours again, earning a breathy sound from you that you’ve never made before.

It startles both you and him, and you pull away from the kiss once more, meeting his gaze.

“What was that?” he asks, the flush on his cheeks having deepened from the prolonged kiss.

You find you can’t look at his eyes anymore, your own gaze sliding away. You laugh awkwardly. “I don’t know.”

He kisses your jaw to gain your attention again, but your eyes stubbornly stay away. That is, until he says, “It was cute.”

Your gaze shoots back to his. “Yeah?”

“Kiss me again,” he asks, and there’s something new in his tone. A desire you’ve never really seen, or maybe it’s just manifesting differently this time around.

Maybe he can feel the sense of urgency in the moment. But he doesn’t question you, just welcomes your lips against his the moment you kiss him again, unable to resist the pull of his gravity.

His hands move down your back, and hesitantly, he grazes his fingers over the curve of your ass, barely even touching. You feel electrified, like lightning is coursing through your bloodstream, and you bite on his bottom lip.

He grunts. He grunts and you know that there is no way you’ll stop now. Not when you sit back on his lap, hands resting on his chest to hold you up. Even through his linen shirt, you feel his heart beating wildly, echoing your own. 

And right where you’re perched, you feel the hint of his arousal, matching the arousal that’s slowly warming up your core.

You’ve touched each other before. It was awkward, neither of you really knew what you were doing, and you’d stopped, too afraid to get caught, too afraid of the consequences. 

Tonight though? You want to feel his skin on yours, want his warm breath to mingle with your own while you lay with him. So you grab his tunic, pushing it up until it reveals a small sliver of pale skin on his lower stomach. You look at it, admire it as if it’s art, and then you meet Yoongi’s gaze again.

“Can you take this off?” you ask, fingers shaking even though your voice holds firm.

He nods, sitting up so that he can remove the shirt. It brings him close to your face, and you can’t resist but kiss him again, molding your lips to his like it was always meant to be.

But not anymore. 

You push the thought away, wanting to focus on Yoongi, on this moment with him. You want to commit it to memory, to remember every plane of his body as he finally, slowly takes his shirt off, revealing more of his sculpted frame.

Being a knight has its advantages. And they show in the powerful build of Yoongi’s body, even though he’s a little more on the lean side. You gently rest on your hands on his chest, before gently caressing down, reveling in the feel of his warm skin under your fingers and palms.

He watches you, lips slightly parted, until your fingers graze the hem of his pants. But then he stops you, grabbing your hands in his.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmurs when your eyes meet his. “You really want to do this?”

You nod, breathing out a soft, “Yes.” You nod again, though your cheeks burn. “Yes, I want it. All of it.”

He gulps, eyes darting to your lips before going back to your gaze. “Can I take your corset off?”

The question sends your heart into overdrive, yet you agree, guiding his hands to the knot at the top of the corset. You notice his fingers shaking as he slowly starts untying it, much like your own fingers are trembling, and you let out a small chuckle.

It’s unexpected, and a little awkward, yet it feels right in this moment with him. He laughs lightly as he struggles, a sound that makes you feel like you could soar in the sky beside the ravens and falcons of the Blackwood. 

Maybe, if you could fly, you’d never have to go to the Ironhold.

Again, you push the thought away to focus on Yoongi’s fingers as they struggle with the laces. He curses under his breath, which makes you chuckle again.

“Let me help,” you tell him, and he begrudgingly lets you take the lead, the tip of his ears red.

You’re much more efficient, and soon enough, you’re able to undo the lacing and take off the stupid garmetn, leaving you in just your linen tunic. Yoongi runs his hands up your sides, dragging the fabric of your shirt up, and your breath hitches in your throat when he slides his hands under the fabric.

His fingers leave a trail of goosebumps on your skin, and he brings his hands up until he’s able to grab your breasts, squeezing lightly. He grunts softly again, and you feel something twitch under your lap.

“Yoongi,” you breathe out.

He doesn’t look at you, just keeps staring at the spot where his hands cover your breasts, hidden beneath your shirt. You take that as a cue to pull the fabric off, and you throw it to the side, to meet his own shirt where it fell to the floor.

Yoongi stares at your chest, eyes slightly widened, cheeks flushed, and his breathing is quicker than usual, as if he’s been sparring for a while. It makes you feel powerful to know that you’re the one with this effect on him, and you smile down at him when he finally meets your gaze again.

“You really are so beautiful,” he says again, as if in awe. 

You blush at the compliment, leaning down so that you can kiss him again. To your surprise, his hands leave your breasts to rest flat on your back, and you almost screech when he spins you around, until he’s lying on top of you. 

As he’s hovering over you, Yoongi stares down at you, chest moving fast from his quick inhales and exhales. 

“Sorry, my lady,” he apologizes at the look on your face.

You chuckle shyly. “Wasn’t expecting it, that’s all.”

He pecks your cheek, smiling against your skin. “I like taking you by surprise. Doesn’t happen often.”

You melt for him. Like the last snow under the spring sun, you melt for him. Your hand grip his biceps as he looks down at your perked nipples, and you feel like molten ore as he then traces his lips along your neck, down down down until he reaches the top of your breast.

He kisses there, once, before going lower, flicking your nipple with his tongue. When your hands wrap around his shoulders, he does it again, a little harder.

“Yoongi…”

His lips close around your nipple, and he sucks hard. You squirm at the foreign sensation, and Yoongi quickly meets your gaze, apologies written in his gaze.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” you immediately reassure him. “It just feels… strange.”

He nods once, and then looks at your nipple, now shimmering with his saliva. “Do you want me to do it again?”

You grab his face, pulling him up to kiss you instead. He doesn’t resist, and he sighs against your mouth as you run your hands through his hair. 

Yoongi is gentle. He always has been, but tonight he’s even more so, taking his time to take off your pants once you part from the kiss. He realizes that you’re still wearing your boots when your pants are around your calves, and he curses under his breath as he unties them and slides them off, while you laugh awkwardly, hiding your face behind your hands.

When he finally manages to take all of your clothes off, you look at him from behind your fingers, admiring how his eyes darken as he looks down at your pussy. You instinctively want to hide, to close your thighs together, and he quickly says, “Don’t… it’s…” he clears his throat. “You’re so pretty.”

Your hands fall away from your face, and you hold his gaze longingly, hoping that tonight will never end. That somewhere along the line, you’ll be able to stop time, so that you can dwell in an eternity of lying here with him.

But fantasies like that are works of fiction, and you can’t alter time. So when he stands to take off his own clothes, you quickly sit on the edge of the bed, helping him with his belt even though your hands feel clumsier than they usually are. Maybe because of the nerves wracking through you–it’s hard to tell, and you frankly don’t care.

Because this is Yoongi. Your Yoongi. You want this to be with him, a memory to treasure forever once you’re gone.

A few seconds later, Yoongi is out of his clothes too, and you think your heart stops in your chest at the sight of him.

You’ve never seen him fully naked like this. You’ve touched him, hands sliding in his pants to wrap around his length while you kissed. But you’ve never seen him, standing proud and tall and leaking precum just inches from your face.

It’s sinful, and you look up to meet his gaze as you hesitantly wrap your fingers around his cock, pumping quickly.

He winces, grabbing your wrist to stop you. “Not so fast,” he tells you gently.

You slow down, biting your lower lip, and then your eyes fall down the pretty expanse of his body until you’re watching what you’re doing so that you can do it properly.

Or at least, what you assume is proper.

Yoongi grunts softly as you jerk him off, hips thrusting forward instinctively once in a while. Something wet is pooling between your legs, and all you can do is look at him, at the tip leaking with precum. He’s rock hard under your fingers, rigid veins and velvety soft skin, and it makes your heart race in your chest with every swift motion of your wrist.

“Stop,” Yoongi lets out, sounding out of breath. “Or I… I won’t be able to do more.”

You let go of him, hand sheepishly falling in your lap. Yoongi sits next to you, and he gently pulls you closer. This kiss is softer, slowly, born of the love between you and him.

He pushes you down until you’re lying on the bed again and climbs on top of you. You spread your legs for him, wrapping them around his waist, which leads to the head of his cock rubbing against your entrance.

You let out a soft moan that has him pull away. 

“Does it hurt?” he asks.

You laugh. “No, you’ve barely touched me yet.”

He seems conflicted for a while, brows furrowing. “Should I touch you first?”

“I don’t… know,” you admit.

You both exchange a look, and Yoongi quirks an eyebrow before finally deciding for the two of you, kneeling between your legs. His eyes drop to your pussy once more, and he hesitantly brings a hand to the apex of your thighs. You stiffen, waiting for his touch, and the moment one of his fingers slides between your folds, a volcano erupts inside of you.

He slowly pushes in, stopping at the first knuckle to gauge your reaction. When you don’t give any sign of discomfort, he finishes pushing in, until most of his finger is swallowed by you.

“It’s so tight,” he says, but there’s barely any lust behind it. Just curiosity, which makes you laugh. He chuckles, eyes crinkling at the corners as he watches you. And then he starts moving his finger again. “How does it feel?”

“Strange,” you admit. “Good?”

Though you say it like a question, he nods. And he keeps at it for a while, slowly fingering you. The sensation is new but not unpleasant, the slow drag of his finger against your walls, the slight arch of it as he pushes in and out. It makes you want more, and you blindly grope for his cock, though your hand falls short and lands on his thigh instead.

“Is something wrong?” he asks.

“I think I want you.”

He stops moving his finger, before pulling it out to return to his previous position. Suddenly bold, Yoongi holds the base of his cock so that he can rub it on your pussy, and his lips parted as he looks down at you.

You moan softly, and he watches you for a moment, never pushing in. Once again, he asks, “You’re sure?”

You nod. “Please.”

It doesn’t take him more to push in, slowly. It hurts, and your face contorts in pain, which makes him stop between your legs.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he says, about to pull out.

“No, it’s…” You wrap your legs so tight around him that he can’t move. “They say it’s supposed to hurt. At first.”

“Oh?”

You shrug. You’d heard the handmaids gossiping, and after a while, you’d just accepted it as fact.

He nods once, before gently caressing your thighs. “Let me know if it’s too much.”

“I promise,” you whisper.

And though it really does hurt, you don’t stop him as he finishes pushing all the way in, stilling when he’s fully sheathed within you. There, he stops, leaning down so that he can kiss you again, his tongue dancing languidly with yours. You hold him close, bask in the feel of the weight of him on you as his hand finds your hip, his thumb caressing circles into your skin.

It takes a moment, but the pain slowly lessens until it turns into a numb sensation that you can almost entirely ignore. You nod. “I’m ready.”

He moves from your mouth to your neck, and he says against your skin, “I don’t know what to do.”

You hold him tighter. “Just move. I want to feel you.”

He nods, and then he pulls almost all the way out, before pushing in again. It still hurts, but when he does it again the pain is less, and by the tenth time you barely feel it anymore. 

You kiss his shoulder, and Yoongi sighs, his lips ghosting on the side of your neck before he decides to suck on it, and the sensation makes you moan again, your arms tightening around you.

“Jagi…”

“Yoongi,” you breathe out like an echo.

“I don’t think I’ll be able to last long,” he admits. “You feel… like silk.”

You nod. “It’s okay.” You kiss his shoulder again, before adding, “Do you think you can go faster?”

He stops moving for a time, meeting your gaze. His dark eyes are filled with intensity, with lust, passion and love for you. He kisses you gently, thumb brushing against your cheek, and then he increases his rhythm. 

Your words seem to unleash him, because the second you let out a small moan again, Yoongi starts going even faster, and the sound of skin against skin fills the room. Even though it feels strange, you let him do it, keep holding him close, and soon enough, pleasure starts to vibrate in you, ignited by every deep thrust.

It’s a little rough, a little clumsy, but Yoongi’s pace doesn’t falter. He grunts in your ear, and you instinctively dig your nails in the skin of his back.

That’s when he loses it. He stills deep inside of you, moaning softly, and you feel his cock twitch as he releases. You hold him through his high, gently caressing his back even though he’s covered in a fine sheen of sweat–you don’t care about it. It’s him, and you think you love all of him. 

You breathe in and out, slowly, as he’s still deep inside of you. When he turns his head towards you, you kiss him deeply, trying to pour all the love in your heart into the act, trying to let him know that forever and always, he’s the one that you’ll love.

Eventually, the kiss ends, the need for breath overcomes it, and Yoongi lies next to you. When he pulls out of you, you feel his warm seed dripping out, and you blush at the feeling, at the dirtiness of it, though you don’t think there’s anything purer than what just happened between you and him. So you put your head on his chest, molding yourself into his side, content just to lay with him.

It’s quiet, your mingled breathing and the sound of his heart under your ear the only noises in the room. You try to concentrate on everything, to commit it to memory. The warmth of his body, the gentleness of his touch, the stillness of everything. It’s electric, the way his fingers slowly ghost up and down your bare arm. He presses the gentlest of kisses to the crown of your head, and you have to force yourself to stay here, in this moment.

You aren’t sure what prompts it, but his arm tightens around you. “What’s wrong?” he hums, tilting his head so that he can better see your face. “Are you okay?”

Until this moment, you’d been doing well, keeping yourself together as your world shatters around you. But the concern in Yoongi’s voice, it breaks you. You don’t respond to him, merely bury your face in the bare skin of his shoulder and try to stitch yourself back together somehow.

For the two years you’d been together, when you pictured your future, it was this–it was him. You’d loved Yoongi for as long as you’d known what love was. Probably longer. He’d been your best friend, your staunchest rival, your biggest supporter. You’d spent more nights than you’d care to admit sitting on one of the castle balconies and complaining to him about your brothers, and you’d listened as he’d lamented the rigidity of his father. Losing him, being forced to walk away, it feels a little like you’re losing a part of yourself. The part that feels safe, the part that feels loved, the part that could take on anything so long as he’s there with you.

He holds you close as you fall apart, the only thing keeping you from entirely shattering. He’s basically silent, and you can’t help but think that he must be so confused, which only serves to crush you more.

“I’m sorry,” you manage finally, wiping your tears.

“What’s wrong, jagi?” Yoongi asks softly. “You’re worrying me.”

You sigh. “I have been given an impossible choice.”

He hums sympathetically. “Whatever it is, we’ll get through it.” 

His confidence almost spirals you back off the edge you’ve barely clawed yourself away from. But instead of breaking again, you reach up to cup his face. In the silence, you study him, trying to memorize all of him–soft, round cheeks; button nose; dark, feline eyes. He’s handsome in a gentle sort of way. Skilled in swordplay, with a mind to match.

“Not this time, I don’t think.” Where to start? Because you should start. You owe him that, at least, after appearing at his door, bedding him, and then dissolving into tears almost immediately after. “That letter father got earlier? It came from the Ironhold. As it happens, our darling king is looking to find himself a wife.”

He blanches, a frown immediately replacing the concern on his face. “When?”

“Tomorrow.”

For the briefest of moments, he deflates, his head sinking deep into his silk and feather pillow. But then his arms snake firmly around you and he pulls you impossibly closer. He kisses the top of your head before nuzzling into your hair. You feel him breathe in deeply and hold it for a moment before he slowly exhales.

“I wish there was a way to get out of this,” you mumble into his chest. “But even your father said-”

“You don’t have to explain.”

“I love you,” you say desperately. You know he knows, but you need to say it. 

“We’ll get through it,” he says again. “Somehow.”

You don’t sleep. You’re pretty sure that Yoongi doesn’t either. You can’t bring yourself to miss a minute, so you lay there, skin on skin, listening to his breathing and watching the moon out the window. The night is slow, but not nearly slow enough, and eventually, the sky begins to lighten.

“I should go pack,” you mumble softly, snuggling into him more.

His arm tightens around you as he hums. “Want help?”

“You don’t have to.”

“No,” he agrees. “But I’m not ready to let you go just yet. And if that means I have to help you pack, then I help you pack.”

You sigh, resting your chin on his chest so that you can look at him. “I don’t even know how much I’m allowed to bring.”

“We’ll figure it out.” He sounds so confident, but looking at him, you can tell it’s a front. His eyes have lost the sparkle they normally have, and the smile he’s wearing doesn’t go beyond his lips.

You stall for a few more moments, but force yourself to get up. He helps you find your clothes and you dress quickly before sneaking out into the hall. It’s still early, almost no one should be up yet, but you have to pass both Seokjin and Namjoon’s rooms to get to your own, and Namjoon is known for keeping strange hours.

Thankfully, this is not the first time you’ve made this journey, and you know just how to move to avoid making noise. You manage to unlatch the door to your chambers with only the slightest of sounds, and you and Yoongi sneak in. He helps you light the wall sconces and a few candles, and as your room lights up, you sigh.

You suppose you should pack on the lighter side. The king’s letter hadn’t said… anything, really, about what awaits you in the Ironhold, but you suspect that whatever you bring won’t be good enough. 

Yoongi helps you fill a trunk with clothes. Or rather, he handles everything, barely letting you do any of it. He folds each garment carefully, like it’s made of glass, choosing his favorite garments like a sommelier chooses wine. You can’t read his expression, can’t tell what he’s thinking, but there’s a cloud over his eyes, and you know he’s lost in thought. 

You leave him to it, figure that maybe this is something he needs to do, and busy yourself with gathering other things you want to take. A few books. A figurine of a duck your father had bought for you for your birthday as a child. Your favorite blanket. A drawing that one of the artists in town had done of your family–your father, your step-mother, Seokjin, Namjoon, and you. There’s one of you and Yoongi, too, that you tuck into one of your more boring books.

You aren’t quite sure when it happens, but you look up, and suddenly, it’s light out. A knock at your door pulls you out of the trance of going through your belongings. Yoongi’s closer, and he reaches out to open it before you can even say anything.

It’s Seokjin.

He stands there, looking a little sheepish, clutching a burlap bag. You aren’t sure if he’s nervous because Yoongi opened the door, or if he’s nervous just being there in general. 

“Hey,” he says softly. “Do you–am I interrupting something?”

You exchange a quick look with Yoongi, and he shakes his head. “I’ll be back soon, yeah?” he says to you. And when you nod, he leaves you and Seokjin alone.

For a few brief moments, it’s quiet. Seokjin wanders silently and mindlessly around your room, looking at your desk, a shelf, your bedside table. But then he sighs, and a pained look crosses his face.

“What have we done to get here?” His voice is quiet, tentative, like he doesn’t want to talk too loudly.

You shrug helplessly. “I wish I knew.”

“There’s one good thing to come of it, I suppose.” He sighs once again, and this time, it’s dramatic. “Now you’ll finally have a reason to be a royal pain in the ass.”

In any other situation, you may have laughed. The two of you aren’t strangers by any means, but you’ve always been closer with Namjoon. Seokjin has always been far more interested in the artisans in the forest town than what goes on in the castle. You wouldn’t begrudge him anything, but you also annoy the everloving hell out of each other. 

True siblings, your father had once proudly declared. You hadn’t always been quite as confident as he was, but the fact that Seokjin is here now… well, maybe you’re closer than you’d thought.

“I uh…” he starts awkwardly, sweeping his bangs out of his eyes before rubbing his neck. “Got you something to take with you.” He lifts up the bag, gesturing with it slightly before handing it to you.

Confused, you take it. The handle of the bag is rough, the burlap tightly woven for strength even though the contents aren’t particularly heavy. Looking in the bag, you pull out a box that’s about the width and length of a book. It’s made of blackwood, the inky black surface polished into glass. There’s a seam that splits it in half, and two golden hinges on the left side. The front of the box is engraved, a gilded thistle stands resolute against the darkness. You slide open the latch on the side and open it. The box is empty, but there’s enough room to store things.

“It’s very pretty,” you tell him, closing the box gently and slipping the latch back into place.

Gently, Seokjin takes the box out of your hands, and with both thumbs, pushes the leaves on either side of the thistle stem. There’s a quiet sound of sliding wood, and when he opens the box again, a panel inside has been moved, and suddenly, there’s more room. He closes the lid, presses the flower of the thistle, and the sliding happens again.

He pushes the box back into your hands, his eyes not leaving yours. You have questions, but the intensity of his gaze says enough.

“How?” you ask finally. You doubt he just had this lying around.

He shrugs, shoving his hands into the pockets of his trousers. “I asked Haejeon to put a rush on it.”

You nod. Haejeon is one of the artisans in the forest town outside the castle walls. He makes games and trinkets. Your father has hired him many times to carve and build small ornaments out of blackwood, and he’s old enough to be your uncle, but when you were kids, he’d given Seokjin a puzzle box to play with, and ever since, your step-brother has been practically stuck to the man’s hip. Over the years, as Seokjin has gotten more and more interested in the creators and builders and artists, Haejeon has taken him under his wing in a way, offering guidance and friendship outside of the castle. 

“Thank him for me. Tell him it’s beautiful.” You hope to God you won’t have reason to use the secret compartment.

A noise outside the door draws your attention, and for a brief moment, Seokjin stares at the dark wood. But then he nods. “Probably Yoongi,” he says lightly. But when he smiles, it doesn’t reach his eyes. “I’ll let you kids get back to it.”

But when he opens the door, it’s Namjoon that’s standing there. He’s still in his nightshirt, and a pair of warm, woolen pants hang a little crooked on his muscular legs.

“I wasn’t sure if you’d be up,” he says from the doorway, looking completely past Seokjin. You motion for him to enter, but he shakes his head. “I don’t want to stay long, I’m sure you still have plenty to do.”

“Namjoon,” you scold, barely any bite in your tone. Easily, he gives in, taking a few tentative steps into the room.

“I brought you this.” He holds out a book in your direction.

It’s bound in plain leather, and is neither particularly large nor particularly small. The pages are old and yellowed. The front cover is entirely non-descript, the only real identifying feature to the outside simply the word ‘Lin’ stamped on the spine.

You open it, and immediately you recognize it as one of the handful of tomes from Castle Blackwood’s library that details your family history. Its handwritten pages go back thousands of years, back to when Seinal Lin first settled the Westerlands.

“I thought that maybe you’d want it. To tell them about us.”

He doesn’t have to say who he means. If this turns out the way most royal weddings do, you aren’t sure when you’ll see your family again. These people who have been your life and your heart for over two decades will more than likely be strangers to any children you may have. This history that Namjoon has given you is more than just a book. It’s a reminder of who you are. It’s a lifeline.

Suddenly, you feel like you’re breaking apart again, but you fight it off, pulling Namjoon into a tight hug. He makes a noise of surprise but after a second, his arms tighten around you. You stand there for a moment, unwilling to pull away, and soon, you feel another body press against your side. Seokjin’s arms wrap around you both, and now you couldn’t pull away, even if you wanted to. 

As quick as it came, the moment passes.

“We should let you get back to it,” Namjoon says softly, a hand still on your arm.

They both nod solemnly, and then, just like that, you’re alone.

The silence is unbearable, the soft crackling of the wall sconces deafening as you’re left alone with your thoughts. Thanks to Yoongi’s earlier efforts, your things are packed, so there isn’t much left to do. You pull out your desk chair and sit, picking up your quill and twirling it between your thumb and forefinger. Thoughts swirl in your mind, and you pick up a piece of parchment.

Once you start writing, you can’t stop, and the words flow out of you as quick as you can write them down. You’re mid-word when there’s a knock at your door, and you hurry to finish and sand the ink.

“Come in,” you call, blowing across the page to get rid of the sand and excess ink.

You have the parchment folded by the time the door opens. Your suspicions are confirmed when a dark head of hair pokes in. Yoongi. He enters slowly, almost silently, and sits on the edge of your bed, watching curiously as you hold a dark green wax stick, melting it with the flame of a candle. You press your seal into the warm wax, removing it quickly before it can stick. The thistle stamp glistens in the candlelight, the wax still soft. You leave it to dry and turn your attention to Yoongi.

His gaze follows your every move, dark eyes soft with fondness. You pretend not to see the redness and puffiness that accompanies it. Silently, he reaches out, catching your hand in his own to tug you toward him. His arms hook around your legs, keeping you close.

“Father asked me to tell you they’re close,” he says softly, a pained look crossing his face briefly. “Word was sent from the first guard post.”

You hum and nod, running your hands through his hair. He’s changed his clothes, but his hair’s still a little tousled from your earlier romp. There’s still some time–the first guard post is at the bottom of the mountain, where the forest is still a thin stand of trees–but suddenly, your heart is in your throat. It hadn’t felt real, not really, but now… You push his hair back off his forehead once again and swallow thickly in an attempt to hold yourself together.

“I love you.” It just kind of bubbles to the surface, quiet but necessary. 

He squeezes the back of your thigh, a soft, “I love you more,” on his lips. After another moment, he releases you. “You should change,” he says quietly, standing.

He’s almost to the door when you stop him. “Stay.” You aren’t sure why you say it, but he freezes in place. “Please,” you add. And, after a brief moment of consideration, he nods.

You dress quickly, pulling on a pair of trousers and a new tunic, barely checking to make sure they match. Yoongi helps you with your corset, his deft fingers having no trouble with the laces this time round. When he’s done, you pull him close, wrap your arms around him tightly.

You are determined to not let go of him until you have to.

“Hey,” he says softly, leaning back away from you ever so slightly. Your hands stay around his waist, but he brings his hands between you to tug at the ring on his littlest finger. Carefully, he pulls your hand away and places the ring in your palm, closing your fingers around it.

“What-?”

“Take this,” he says, squeezing your fist.

You inspect the ring. It’s funny, you’ve seen it before–you’ve played with his hands countless times, looked at it while it was on his finger–but it’s like this is the first time you’re actually seeing it. It’s silver, the flat face of it etched with a shield, a sword standing at attention in its center. On either side of the ring’s face, thistle flowers bloom along the band. 

“Yoongi,” you protest. You don’t want to take his signet ring. It’s the crest of the Min family, the ring serves as a seal to press into wax. He needs it.

He insists. “Keep it. Don’t wear it if you don’t want to, but I want you to have it. To remember.”

“As if I could forget.”

Yoongi smiles at that, a soft, somber smile that curves his lips but doesn’t meet his eyes. 

The quiet that settles is interrupted rather rudely by the door opening. A head of dark hair and Yoongi’s sharp eyes peer in at you. It’s Jaesung.

“Lord John asked me to fetch you both,” he says, and you can sense the anger barely concealed in his voice. “They’ll be here soon.”

Yoongi nods, but you can feel him let out a sigh. 

“Shall I grab your trunk?” Jaesung asks, gesturing to the now full case behind you. It’s probably heavy, but you nod anyway. You’ve seen him lift heavier before, and you trust him to know his limits. You pick up Seokjin’s box and press the leaves, slipping Yoongi’s ring into the compartment before shutting it back up and stashing the whole thing in your trunk.

Yoongi trails behind you, his fingers grasped loosely in your own as you slowly and begrudgingly make your way through the castle. The wall sconces have been extinguished and the shutters have been thrown open, bathing the stone hallways in morning light. Instead of taking the back stairs you did last night–the ones which go past Namjoon’s and Seokjin’s chambers down to Yoongi’s–you follow the plush carpet down the hall to the grand stairs. They curve around the main hall, criss-crossing from front to back.

You pause at the first landing, just above the grand entrance. Yoongi stops almost immediately, his head falling to one side in confusion.

“Take this,” you say softly, handing him the letter from earlier. 

“But-”

“Take it,” you insist, pressing it into his chest. “Don’t read it now. Give it a day or two. Please.”

Your eyes meet his, and silently, you plead with him. For a moment, he stands firm, his grip on your wrist tight. But then he relents, shoulders sagging, and nods. “Fine,” he says, taking the letter from your grasp and stuffing it into his pocket.

The heavy blackwood main doors of the castle are at least double your height, and they stand wide-open now. Your father and step-mother are in the courtyard, you can see them out by the centuries-old blackwood tree that stands sentinel in front of the castle. You’d spent many days of your childhood climbing its thick boughs, throwing seeds down to pelt Namjoon as he sat in the shade and read. Usually, the courtyard is bustling with people–from the castle, from the forest town, visitors–but now, aside from your father and step-mother, it’s completely empty.

“Stop pacing, love,” your step-mother says. She sits in a chair just to the left of the sentinel tree. She must not be feeling as well today. “You’ll make yourself sick.”

“I fear it’s too late for that, Sara, my dear” your father mumbles. And when he looks up, he sees you and Yoongi approaching. “Ah.” He outstretches an arm, beckoning you forward.

When you’re close enough, your step-mother grabs your free hand, enveloping it in her own. Her hands are cold, and there’s no real strength to her grip. Yoongi stands close behind you, his chest practically touching your back as you hold the gaze of your step-mother. 

“Brave girl,” she says softly. 

“The towers sent word ahead of time. The envoy is in a hurry to get back to the Ironhold,” your father tells you. He’s stopped his pacing and now stands beside your step-mother’s chair. “We wanted to have time to say goodbye.”

You frown. Already, the king is not making a good impression on you. Between the sudden letter and the incoming envoy that feels more like an abduction than a transport, you’re certain that this is the worst decision you’ve ever made in your life. And yet, as you look back and forth between your father and step-mother, as you hold Yoongi’s hand, you know it’s probably also–unfortunately–the right one. 

Your father comes forward, his big hands cupping your cheeks. “You are smart,” he tells you, voice low. “You are strong. You are kind. Give ‘em hell.” He kisses your forehead and lets you go, turning almost immediately and walking toward the castle entrance to watch the road. You don’t miss the glisten in his eyes.

Your step-mother pats your hand. “I don’t think he will ever let this go. The Ironhold may say they’re doing this for the good of our two families, but…” She sighs. “I fear they’ve made an enemy out of the west.” She meets your gaze again, honeyed dark eyes big and sad. “Don’t let them dull you.” 

Carefully, she reaches up and unpins a brooch from the front of her dress. It’s beautiful–you’ve admired it since you were a kid. A mother-of-pearl thistle blossom inset into an oval of ebony blackwood. She stands, a little unsteadily at first, and you reach out to help her gain her balance. Without looking up, she pins the brooch to your tunic, right over your heart.

You hear the hoofbeats before you see the envoy, the clattering of a carriage and several horses enough to draw anyone’s attention. Jaesung arrives just in time; he and Namjoon place your trunk just under the tree beside your step-mother’s chair. Like a spectre, Seokjin appears to your left. They all huddle closer when the first horse appears at the gates.

It’s not really that large of a traveling party–two men on horseback, a carriage with its driver, and a supply wagon–but the sight of it has your stomach churning all the same. You’re glad you didn’t take time for breakfast, or you might actually be sick. Yoongi presses closer, your entwined hands hidden behind your back.

One of the riders dismounts–you assume the steward–and approaches your father. They shake hands, and you can see the man’s gaze flick to you as they talk. Yoongi squeezes your hand. After a moment, they come closer. Your father’s face is grave, almost ashen, as he gestures for you.

The whole exchange is silent. You dare not look at Yoongi, too afraid that if you do, you’ll falter or worse. But as you step forward, he refuses to let go of your hand. Only until you’re physically too far away does he loosen his grip, and as soon as his fingers are out of your grasp, you miss him. 

Your trunk gets moved to the carriage. The steward shakes your father’s hand again. Namjoon hugs you. Seokjin kisses your forehead. You’re passed around your father and step-mother and Jaesung. You refuse to look at Yoongi. And then it’s over. And you have nothing left to do but get in the carriage.   

The inside of the carriage looks lavish, with soft velvet covering the bench and luxurious curtains covering the windows. But when you actually get in, the bench is hard, and the fabric over the windows leaves the carriage dark and confining. It’s impossible to see out, but you do your best, pulling the fabric away from the window and shoving your face against the wood of  the wall. 

They stand there, everyone you hold close, clumped together. The carriage jolts forward, and even though they can’t see you, you wave. Yoongi is the only one that lifts his hand, and you hold his gaze until the carriage enters the forest town and you can no longer see him. 

Your heart hurts, and somewhere, deep inside your soul, you feel something breaking.

prev. | masterlist | next

your support means a whole lot, especially now when I'm low on energy and time. grad school is hell, but I wanted to post this to give us both some joy. please let me know your thoughts. I hope to finish this sometime this century, so please look forward to the next two parts!

#yoongi x reader #min yoongi x reader #bts x reader #yoongi fanfic #yoongi fic #suga fic #suga fanfic #bts fanfic #bts fic #min yoongi fic #min yoongi fanfic #myg x reader

[cybsoo2]

sanguine slumber

╰┈➤ synopsis — So tempted by soft slumber, you just want to sleep. But Yoongi seems to have a present for you and it isn’t exactly ideal. 

╰┈➤ pairing — yandere!cat-hybrid!suga x reader

╰┈➤ word count — 650+

╰┈➤ content warning — SPOILER!!!! dead animal (⁠╥⁠﹏⁠╥⁠)

ੈ✩‧₊˚ note ; happy birthday yoongi!! i've been missing him too much lately

A soft rumbling sound brings you out of your sweet slumber. A warm weight lays across your back. A heat that grows hotter as Yoongi rubs his hands alongside your abdomen. Up and down, repeated, and teasing at the bottom of your sleep shirt.

The rumbling seems to be coming from Yoongi himself. A low purring that lays deep in his chest. The sensation mixed with his short puffs of breath touching your ear almost send you back to sleep. Almost.

Yoongi’s hands redden with a roughness as his claws peek out enough to delicately graze your sides. Sharp nails scratching along the surface, not enough to significantly hurt you, but enough to leave pink lines in their path. You squirm underneath him from the discomfort and let out a groan.

“Don’t fall asleep yet,” Yoongi huffs out as if he isn’t already half asleep himself. “I have a present for you.” While he speaks, he shifts his head to turn away from your face and stuff into your hair. He nestles himself deeper into the space between your neck and the pillow. A bad decision since a strawberry smell threatens to take him out. 

Yoongi keeps his focus on decorating your neck with lingering kisses in order to stay awake. His tail tangles itself around your waist in a lazy fashion. The tip twitching from every small breath you let out.

You only groan into the pillow and ignore him. A fuzzy haze begins to settle beneath your eyelids until a pinching pain erupts from your neck. “Hey, hey no biting,” Your words are slurred and down-slide into silence.

Yoongi, with his teeth still lodged into your neck, pouts a little before peppering pecks onto your pinkening flesh. He huffs in disappointment at your still sleepy self.

“Wake up, I said I have a present.” Yoongi raises himself onto his arms the slightest bit so he hovers over your face. He breathes short puffs of air through his puffed up cheeks and pouty lips. He watches as the wind makes your eyelashes flutter and causes your eyelids to twitch. He moves his tail up higher to rest at the base of your chin, tickling you in an annoying way. 

You continue to stand between the sinking state of slumber and the surface. You stay stubborn and still underneath his body. Yoongi’s purring stops and he almost starts to sulk. Instead, two hands turn you upwards to face him. You grimace at the sunshine that peeks around him and squint your eyes. 

“Stop being stubborn.” He sits up so he straddles your waist. Yoongi huffs and furrows his brows in frustration. He leans down again and puts more pressure into his kisses. He presses his plush lips onto your rosy cheeks. He leaves fluttering kisses across every inch of your face. Blue butterflies burn in your stomach. 

When his kisses drag down onto your jaw is when you notice how warm they are. Warm and… wet? You peek open one eye and fight against the blinding light. Your foggy gaze comes into focus and that’s when you see how red his lips are.

You reach out to grab his jaw, nimble fingers tighten around the bone and draw his face downwards. He reaches a hand up to hold onto your wrist and a second scarlet stain appears. You panic to pull yourself up off your back, bucking Yoongi downwards off your hips and onto the space beside you. 

Feathers (definitely not from the pillow) cover the bed while a few float in the air from your rapid movement. You turn to face Yoongi and he parts his lips in a scarlet smile. He spits out a feather and brings his hands out from behind his back.

A bloody bird sits in the middle of his palms. The wings stick up in two impossible directions. The head, hanging on by a single tendon, snaps off and rolls onto your lap.

“Do you like it?” A shy smile shines on his blushing cheeks. 

You wipe the sides of your face before responding. Ruby red rolls off onto your hands. “Oh, Yoongi.”

© cybsoo2 2024, all rights reserved

#bts #bts x reader #bts imagine #bts imagines #bts x you #bts fanfic #bts fic #bts drabble #yandere bts #suga x reader #suga x you #suga imagine #suga imagines #suga fanfic #suga fic #yandere suga #suga drabble #suga #suga fluff #yoongi x reader #yoongi x you #yoongi imagine #yoongi imagines #yoongi fanfic #yoongi fic #yandere yoongi #yoongi drabble #yoongi #yoongi fluff #HAPPY BIRTHDAY YOONGI!!

[sunnebeam]

perks of being a househusband.

SERIES.

pairing: min yoongi x reader

plot: the (mis)adventures of retired gangster min yoongi as he leaves behind the life of the mafia and navigates the way of the househusband.

warnings: the way of the househusband au, marriage au, crack, domesticity, yoongi in his stay-at-home hubs era

masterlist + disclaimers.

note: finally, a masterlist! :> no concrete story here btw!! just a bunch of mismatched scenarios that will be written and posted with no particular schedule. enjoy!!!

INDEX.

I WAS HOPING I WOULDN'T HAVE TO RESORT TO THIS.

I ALWAYS GET THE JOB DONE.

THIS IS OUR TERRITORY.

MY BOSS JUST GAVE ME ORDERS.

FLASHBACK: WHEN YOU FIRST MET.

BONUS: HOLLY'S WALK.

I'M PROTECTING MY TURF IN MY OWN WAY.

[MORE TO BE ADDED]

COPYRIGHT 2023. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.

#bts x reader #min yoongi x reader #yoongi x reader #suga x reader #bts suga x reader #agust d x reader #bts fic #bts imagines #min yoongi fic #min yoongi imagines #yoongi fic #yoongi imagines #suga fic #suga imagines #agust d fic #bts suga fic #bts suga imagines #bts x you #bts x y/n #min yoongi x you #min yoongi x y/n #yoongi x you #yoongi x y/n #suga x you #suga x y/n #bts suga x you #bts suga x y/n #agust d x you #agust d x y/n #cat.writes

[sailoryooons]

hali my love, for your halloween drabbles, i am in NEED of a grumpy vampire boyfriend yoongi who’s mean to everyone but u (it’s my fav trope ever, i’m a basic bitch lmfaoooo) 😭🙏 maybe add some fluff and smut ? do whatever u desire with it babe, just know i love u so so much !! 💌🦋

❀ Pairing: Vampire!Yoongi x f. reader

❀ Summary: Yoongi is none too pleased about the movie that Seokjin has selected for the weekly movie night. You know just how to cheer him up. 

❀ Word Count: 2,459

❀ Genre: Supernatural, Establish Relationship, Fluff, Smut, 

❀ Rating: 18+ Minors are strictly prohibited from engaging and reading this content. It contains explicit content and any minors discovered reading or engaging with this work will be blocked immediately.

❀ Warnings: Seokjin & Co. are making Yoongi’s life hell in the kitchen, mild teasing/ganging up on Yoongi as the vampire, general chaos, gruff Yoongi, explicit language, explicit sexual content, vaginal fingering, blood drinking and biting, sort of voyeurism because people are in the next room over, Yoongi is a little needy, depictions of blood, brief cum eating, and this is largely unedited besides spell check. 

❀ Published: October 14, 2023

❀ A/N: MARI MARI MARI! My love I have been waiting to do this request all week. I am literally so down bad for Yoongi who is a little cranky and yelling at everyone, only to turn to an absolute puddle who just wants to bite his baby’s neck when she walks in and kicks everyone out and  yells at them for being mean to him. This was the perfect request ever - I love you so much and thank you thank you thank you! I hope you enjoy our boyfriend. 

❀ Disclaimer: All members of BTS are faces and name claims for this story. This is entirely a work of fiction and by no means is meant to be a projection, judgment, or representation of real-life people. Any scenarios or representations of the people and places mentioned in works are not representative of real-life scenarios.

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“Can I have some-”

“No,” Yoongi tuts, cracking the top of Seokjin’s knuckles with the wooden spoon in his hand. Seokjin howls and yanks his hand away, skin reddening under the quick assault of Yoongi’s reflexes. “You can have it when it’s ready.”

“I’m the host!”

Yoongi looks around the spacious kitchen where his friends are carrying on. Taehyung is wrestling Jimin over the Bluetooth speaker while Hoseok swings his legs back and forth from where he sits on the counter, delighted as he flips through songs to orchestrate their fight. Jungkook giggles with his phone out, filming the bickering pair while Namjoon stands in the doorway, trying to decide if he wants to break them up or risk walking by them with the two bottles of wine in his hand.

Namjoon risks the wine and regrets it. Taehyung bumps into Namjoon immediately, causing the bottles to slip from his hand and shatter on the ground. Hoseok yells in fright and Yoongi’s hand grips the wooden spoon hard enough that it immediately splinters in his hand. 

Seokjin immediately begins yelling and throwing his hand in the air, Taehyung starts accusing Jimin of pushing him into Namjoon on purpose, and Jungkook frantically opens and closes cabinets and drawers to look for towels. 

Each sound of the chaos grates against Yoongi’s sensitive hearing. The smell of sweat on their skin, the pumping adrenaline and fright from Hoseok’s momentarily startle. It becomes too much and he feels the instinct to lash out curl up inside of him like a whip.

“Everyone out!” Yoongi hisses, hackles rising. 

The sound of his voice cuts through the kitchen, stopping everyone in silence. Six pairs of eyes turn to look at where he stands at the stove, steam hitting his face. His gums ache where his fangs threaten to slip through, a sign of his irritation. 

“But I’m the host!” Seokjin protests again.

Yoongi points the now-ruined spoon at him. “You, are doing fuck all as host.”

“You told me you’d cook!”

“I always cook!”

“Well, you’re the best at it! You’ve been doing it for like three hundred years!”

Yoongi hears you before he sees you. Immediately he picks up the shutting of the car door, the additional heartbeat as you walk up the drive. Even from the kitchen with the wine and the smell of his friends and the cooking food, Yoongi can smell your lavender scent from where he stands.

Immediately tension bleeds out of him. You let yourself into the house and find them in the kitchen, calling out for them as you step in and freeze, scanning the room. Your mouth forms an ‘o’ at the chaos and he watches you as your eyes drag to his, taking in the ruined cooking utensil, the wine of the floor, and his twitching lip. 

You clap your hands together then. “Everyone out!” you order. “Out, out, out!”

Unlike when Yoongi orders everyone to do something, they all listen to you. Hoseok scrambles off the counter and bolts toward the living room, hot on Jimin and Taehyung’s heels who both give you sheepish laughs. Namjoon rubs the back of his neck awkwardly and spins on his heel to leave, Seokjin and Jungkook on his trail. 

Once they’re gone, it’s just you and Yoongi in the kitchen, pasta nearly boiling over. You point to the pot, brows raised. “You focus on that, I’ll clean all this, okay?”

Fuck Yoongi loves you. Something as simple as giving directions and just addressing the mess with a plane soothes his irritated nerves. He nods, not taking his eyes off of you as he continues the meal. Yoongi is good at multi-tasking, and his favorite thing is to watch you even when you’re not looking. 

Just being in the same room as you brings him peace. Hundreds of years of existence, and Yoongi has never known balance like this. Has never found someone who steadies his too-loud world, who brings him the silence that he needs.

Until you. 

Even though Yoongi can hear the boys being rowdy in the living room, it’s silent in the kitchen. You begin sweeping glass, oh so careful not to cut your fingers, and put Yoongi on edge. He’s not worried - you’ve always taken extra steps to avoid bloodletting around him and unlike Namjoon, you’re good at it. 

Yoongi wants you to come over to him. He chews on his lip as he works on sauce for the pasta. His eyes dart to you often, fingers flexing as if to reach out and beckon you over to him. You’ve only been in the house for ten minutes, but he wants to feel your warm skin beneath his fingertips. The heat of you is just a moment away. 

When you finish, you come around the counter to greet him properly. His heart skips in his chest - for it does still beat - and Yoongi feels his mouth twitch upward and his edges soften out as you lean up to him, pressing a sweet kiss to his lips. 

Your mouth is warm against his, lips soft. He sighs and melts into you, pressing his mouth against yours a little harder. He feels you smile against him before you nibble his bottom lip and pull away, looking up at him. “How’s it going?” 

“Hm.”

You snake an arm around his waist and pull your hips flush together. He likes the closeness, the way your skin makes his buzz. His nose fills with the scent of lavender and the undercurrent of your blood, a smell so uniquely you that he could never forget it. 

“Can I taste,” you as, pointing to the steaming veggies. Yoongi nods, finding a fork and stabbing a seasoned green bean from the pan. He offers it to you. He watches, hypnotized as your mouth works over it. You hum, brightening. “Ugh, unreal.” 

He leans forward and steals a kiss, taking you by surprise. He licks into your mouth, tongue tasting the butter and salt, the sweetest of your lips. When he pulls away, you’re giving him a cursory glance. “Needy, huh?”

He feels himself flush. “Maybe.” 

Your fingers squeeze his hips, making his heart flip. 

“Why does she get to taste?” Seokjin’s voice shatters the moment. Yoongi looks over your head and bares his fangs, his eyes flashing from black to crimson, muscles rippling. Seokjin squeals and runs out of the kitchen, screaming. “He is hissing at me!”

Slowly, Yoongi’s fangs recede. He feels the feral instinct to tear out Seokjin’s throat recede, and looks down at you, where you watch him with mild amusement, arm still snug around his hips.

“They’re annoying me,” Yoongi says, as if to answer the silent question. “He picked Dracula to watch tonight.”

You arch a brow. “Is that so?” Yoongi pouts. You press a kiss to his shoulder and pat his waist. “Finish up in here and I’ll make sure they’re all set out there.”

Hunger rolls through him, uncontrolled. He feels it swift, a dam breaking. He watches you wipe your hands on your jeans and walk toward the living room, his eyes pinned to the empty door as you vanish. He hears you when you raise your voice, immediately laying into Seokjin. 

Yoongi smirks and looks back down as he starts turning off the stove. Listening to you lay into Seokjin for his funny little joke for movie night makes Yoongi preen, lifting his chin a little as Seokjin whines and throws himself on the couch, letting you lash him. 

By the time Yoongi is calling everyone to make a plate, Seokjin comes in with his ears red and eyes on the floor. You return to the kitchen, nonplussed and pointing to the back of the line forming to plate food. Seokjin grumbles about him being the host again but listens. 

Yoongi leans against the counter, throwing a rag over his shoulder. You make yourself a plate and set it aside before going over to the bottles of wine, pouring two glasses before coming over to him and handing him one. He thanks you quietly taking a sip. 

As everyone filters back out into the living room to start the movie. Yoongi pushes off the counter to join them. You catch his wrist, signaling him to stay back. Once alone, you pull him toward you, making him cage you in against the counter. 

“Hungry?” you ask, gaze darkening. His stomach flips and he nods, looking down his nose at you. You tilt your neck to the side. “Want?”

He shakes his head. “You should eat and watch the movie first.”

“You’re a little on edge. Maybe a snack first?” Yoongi goes back and forth on it. He feels his gums ache, feels the burn set into his throat. His eyes drift to the soft spot on your neck where your pulse beats, his favorite song. “Come on, baby,” you coo. “Just small bites.”

That voice. That voice. Yoongi feels his knees weaken. He leans further into you and you slide your hands around his waist, pulling him flush against you. His cock twitches and he groans, lids fluttering as you lean your head back, baring your neck for him.

Fuck fuck fuck. 

Slowly, Yoongi lowers his face to your throat. He brushes his nose along the slender slope of your neck, inhaling. A shiver ripples through him and he feels the pinch of his fangs slide through. Your pulse quickens and he smells the change in you - feels the way your thighs press together. 

He salivates. He can’t help it, his mouth pooling slowly with water as he brushes his open lips against your warm skin in the ghost of a kiss. Your breathing is faint and fluttering, your heart hammering in your chest. You’re not afraid, though. He’d be able to tell.

You’re excited and turned on, your fingers twisting in Yoongi’s shirt as his tongue slips gently between his fangs to taste your skin. You suck in a sharp breath and he whines a little, so in tune with your sounds. Every sound. 

So, so carefully, Yoongi scraps his fangs against your skin and presses his tongue against your beating pulse, right where he wants to bite. He gives in, slowly sinking his teeth into tender flesh, his mouth filling with sweet nectar immediately. 

The reaction is immediate. His eyes roll back into his head and he grinds against you, seeking friction as his mouth suckles gently, pulling warm fluid into his mouth. You’re lax in his arms, letting the endorphins of the bite wash over you. 

Yoongi can smell what it does to you, one of his hands dropping from holding your side to pressing between your legs, rubbing you through your jeans. Your head knocks loudly against the counter, making him open his eyes and look up at you through his lashes, mouth still attached to your throat. 

Eyes shut, mouth open, you sag against the counter. He can see every flicker of your eyes behind your lids, drifting in his bite. In him. Yoongi’s tongue presses over the wound, staying there as he swallows his last fill. He’s more interested in the way he works to open your jeans, now, uncaring that they’ve started the movie in the living room. 

Yoongi is intimately focused on your reactions as he pulls down your zipper. You press your cunt toward him, asking. Seeking. Wanting. So quickly this has turned into more than small bites, and Yoongi doesn’t care. He’ll give you whatever you want, and he can sense the vibration in you, his predator senses tuned in to your desire. 

Your folds are damp as he slides his fingers in, seeking your heat. The fit is tight in your jeans but you lean back for him, pulling them down a little, giving Yoongi access to pull your panties to the side and slide the pads of his fingers up and down your slit.

“Oh,” you sigh, nails digging into his hips. “Please,” you ask. “Please please please, Yoongi.”

He gives in, sliding a finger down the wet, hot seam of you and pressing in. Your walls clutch around him, sucking him in as he moans against your throat. His tongue laps back and forth over the wound on your neck, not drinking more but healing the skin, tasting your sweat. 

“Just like that, baby,” you encourage. You roll your hips into his hand, grinding your swollen clit against his palm. He’s fully hard now, cock throbbing as he works his fingers into your cunt, the wet sound muted by the loud moving blaring in the living room. “Fuck. Do you want more?”

Yoongi shakes his head and hides his face between your neck and shoulder, panting as he works you. You squeeze around him wetly, your entire body shaking against him. He can tell your close, the very fibers stitching you together shaking loose as he angles his fingers, pressing against that soft spot inside of you.

He will never get tired of this. The way you walk into his life when he’s having a less-than-ideal day and put everything right again. How you pick up the pieces and put them where they need to be, how you chastise his friends when they want to pick on his vampirism, and how you just give him what he wants but won’t ask for. 

So ready to give in to him. 

When you come around his fingers, Yoongi makes a needy sound at the back of his throat. He loves the way you squeeze him, the way you go silent and soft. Sagging against the counter. He sucks at your neck - not for blood, but for the intimacy. Just the taste of your skin. 

Slowly, you peel apart. Yoongi pulls his hands from your jeans, watching you open your eyes as he grins - perhaps the first real smile all day - and pops them into his mouth. He moans around them, the taste of you sticky on his tongue, making him ripple in pleasure again. 

When he retracts his fingers, you surge forward, giving him a single, wet kiss, tasting back. 

“Better?” you ask gently, kissing the corner of his mouth. His chin. His nose. He nods his head. “Do you need me to -”

He shakes his head, feeling your hand move toward his cock. “Just need ten.” 

“You sure?” 

“Mhmm.” He leans forward, licking a soft stripe up your neck. “Thank you.”

“For?”

“Knowing what I need. Being a momentary lapse of peace in a world that is sometimes too loud. For giving me what I need.” 

Your grin is blinding. “I love you.” 

“You too.” His kiss against your neck is soft and sweet. “And that was much more than just small bites.” 

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