love roulette, m | myg
pairing(s): yoongi x reader
summary: You get dragged into some dumbass shit thanks to your roommate and childhood best friend, Kim Seokjin. What is the Love Roulette you ask? Seven men put their names in a hat and six consenting women draw their names from said hat. You have to date them for three months. Social experiment, yeah? And the last nonconsenting woman? Why, that's you!
warnings: rated M (18+) for language; friends-to-lovers; fluff / feels / a bit of a slow but sweet burn; agonizing over becoming an adult; smut (fem reader, f-receiving oral, fingering, nipple play, penetrative sex in Yoongi's studio); non-idol!BTS - blond, music producer, bassist!Yoongi x noona!reader (yes, Yoongi's noona and it is relevant to the story), ft best friend!Seokjin and a tiny bit of Jungkook x reader (also plot relevant); OT7 scene at the end
yes, it's SOWOOZOO Yoongi, Seokjin, and JK
there's a bunch of BTS references, enjoy trying to catch them all
“I’m not doing this, Seokjin.”
“Wait, wait, hold on, what if I give you – this?”
You turned around to see Kim Seokjin reaching into his cardigan to pull out a fucking finger heart.
You gave him a look that promised you were about to break his fingers in two seconds.
He laughed awkwardly, quickly yanking his hands back into his jean pockets, honey blonde hair fluffing with the quick jerk of his head to back away from your murderous glare. Why were you friends with this lunatic again? Oh, right, because your dad went golfing with his dad every summer and left you two sitting under an awning with GameBoys, praying you two would get along with minimal supervision.
Also, they prayed you wouldn’t tell your mothers.
“Okay, what if I give you a hundred thousand won?”
Your eye twitched.
“Two hundred thousand.”
“Two hundred and I’ll draw out of your stupid hat.”
A muscle in his cheek twitched. “Fine... fine… You’re a fuckin’ loan shark.”
“You’re literally suggesting the stupidest shit of all time.”
The stupidest shit of all time was a cheap, crumpled, black felt top hat that your long-time friend Kim Seokjin produced from his room after he handed you the money from his wallet – dude was fucking loaded; you weren’t sure why he was being a brat about money that you were going to probably spend on buying snacks for his dumb ass, because he was also your roommate and he ate all the snacks, including yours, hence why you would probably spend the money on him, because you would buy your own snacks and this rather large and broad-shouldered shit would sneak them when he thought you weren’t looking.
This party hat apparently contained the names of all the male friends in his friend group, who were either in unfulfilling relationships or wanted to be in relationships and thus came up with this stupid love roulette idea where the consenting girls they selected would pick the names and go on dates with the guys. Since Kim Seokjin’s life was a fucking K-drama, he put your ass in the list without asking you because you hadn’t responded to his text in two point five seconds.
You were too busy fucking a guy five years younger than you.
To be fair.
You didn’t know he was five years younger than you until you opened his wallet and stared at his driver’s license, and by that time you were taking the condom out of said wallet, so…
Anyhow, six consenting girls and one nonconsenting one.
Seokjin held the hat closed and squinted suspiciously at you.
“Close your eyes,” he barked childishly.
Your eye twitched.
“You have to follow the rules like everyone else!”
You closed your eyes and stuck your hand out. You heard him open the hat and place it under your hand. You felt around in the fabric, frowning.
“Seokjin, there’s one fucking piece of paper in here,” you growled in annoyance, opening your eyes and yanking your hand out of the hat, the single scrap of rolled-up paper in your palm.
He huffed. “You were the last one to pick. What did you expect?”
“You could have just told me the name!”
He scowled at you. “Of course not. You have to go through the ritual like everyone else.”
“… What the fuck is this, a cult?”
You grumbled and peeled the small piece of paper apart. There was some small, jagged handwriting in the center. You squinted at it.
“SU… GA? SUGA? The fuck?”
“Oh, that’s Yoongi.”
“Why didn’t he just write Yoongi?”
Seokjin shrugged. “That’s his stage name when he’s producing stuff. Maybe he was trying to look cool.”
You knew Min Yoongi. Pale-skinned, usually dark-haired, and stone-faced with deadpan humor. He was the bassist in a band, but his primary work was producing music. He was also a rapper. And yeah, that was about all you knew, because you didn’t really hang around Seokjin and his friends for long, since they did not know the meaning of inside voices.
You frowned. “Wasn’t he dating that chick with the rich parents?”
Seokjin shrugged. “Does fucking without considering her feelings for him count as a dating?”
You rubbed your temples. “Why do you want me to go on a date with him?”
He pursed his full lips. “Well, I don’t, but rules are rules. It’s only for three months.”
Well, this was fucking weird as shit.
You didn't usually talk to Min Yoongi, at least not directly. It was typically in the middle of chatting with all of Seokjin’s friends. There wasn't any need to use an honorific when they were only generally talking and not directly addressing you. And Yoongi didn't really contribute much to the conversation when you were around. The younger ones did, and you were used to their rather noisy noonas, but you were not used to Yoongi's deep, masculine, slightly husky noona.
This was fucking weird.
"What year were you born?" you asked. Maybe you weren't his noona so he could stop calling you that.
Why were all of Seokjin's friends younger than him? Sigh.
The waitress trotted up to your table, oblivious to the awkward air. “Are you ready to order?”
Yoongi looked up and you saw the instant fluster in her face as he raised his head. His bleach blond hair was pushed back with one spare lock fallen onto his forehead almost carelessly, black brows and piercing dark brown eyes adding intensity to his gaze as he redirected his attention from you to her.
“Just an iced Americano.”
He turned back to you and you saw the glimmer of his high cheekbones, well-kept skin leading to a pretty jawline. There was a small upturn to his upper lip, as If he was thinking, and you saw the slight flash of white teeth as he chewed on his lower lip. You looked away from him, trying not to stare too much, addressing the waitress instead.
“Ah… the peach white tea and coffee cake for me.”
“Iced or hot?” the waitress piped cheerfully.
You pursed you lips and made eye contact. She nearly dropped her pen.
“Y-Yes, right away!”
You frowned as she scurried away.
“What’s with her?” you muttered.
Your eyes flickered back to Yoongi. Maybe you were hearing things. He was glancing at his phone screen, still chewing on his lower lip. He acted as if he said nothing at all. He clicked his tongue and put his phone face down on the table.
“Girl problems?” you asked out loud.
He chuckled. “Nope, just six nosy dudes.”
You could guess who.
A quiet settled between you and him. You found yourself doing that bad habit of yours where you flicked your left thumb nail against the ring band you wore on your left middle finger. Absentmindedly, you switched to rubbing the pad of your thumb against it instead, not wanting to nick the sterling silver.
“That’s an interesting ring.”
You turned your hand, pulling it off to show him. It was a sizable onyx stone held by skeleton hands and the band was shaped to look like bones. “Seokjin gave it to me.” You slid it back on, raising your hand, eyebrow, and one side of your lips all at once. “I feel it adds a little extra punch when I do a certain gesture.”
Yoongi laughed, raspy and mirthful as you danced your fingers in the air. “Hyung doesn’t like that kind of stuff though,” he mused, referring to the rather spooky nature of the ring.
You shrugged. “Yeah, but I do, so he bought it for me in exchange for not painting the whole apartment black and putting up the goat head in the living room.”
He cocked a dark brow. “You have a goat head?”
You grinned. “Nah, but Seokjin thinks I do and that’s enough.” You pointed to your other two rings. “This one,” you started, referring to your right thumb. “Is called the Devil and as you can see it is a goat head. Seokjin also bought me this one as a replacement for my goat head,” you snickered, and then pointed to your right ring finger. “And this one is called the Fool.” It was a skull with a jester’s hat.
“Hyung gave you that one too?”
“Because I’m an idiot and I don’t know anything.”
Now Yoongi raised both eyebrows.
“Just kidding, I bought this one because Seokjin is an idiot and doesn’t know anything.”
You started laughing, shaking your head as you remembered telling Seokjin that you bought something to always remind yourself of your best friend and then his excitement promptly turning into immediate yelling as you showed him the ring.
He chased you around the apartment for fifteen minutes straight. Never caught you though, even with those long legs. You were far too nimble and clever to be caught by him.
“Told him it represented him. He was not pleased,” you managed to get out between your chortles, left hand over your mouth, your fingertips on your dimples that only peeked out when you were highly amused and Seokjin was highly amusing. You glanced at Yoongi and felt your laugh fall away a bit.
Fuck, he had a breathtaking smile.
“Always a good idea to decorate pretty hands.”
Now your laughter actually died, heat rising to your neck.
Yoongi said it very casually, making the listener question if he was serious or not. In this case, the listener was you and you almost didn’t believe he said anything at all, but that smile turning into a smirk was telling you otherwise, showing off a flash of teeth and gums as the waitress bustled back with your drinks and your cake, interrupting the moment and your speechlessness.
“How was your date?”
Seokjin shrugged, nonchalantly, trying to seem casual. “Okay, I guess? I was flustered, she was flustered, my first words were ‘Your boobs?!’ and–”
You held up a hand. “Hold on a second, what?”
His ears promptly turned red. “Er, I had a good reason, there was white powder all over them…”
Seokjin blinked very fast.
He coughed abruptly, ears still bright red. “She said was it was flour, said she had been making breakfast, but I guess she forgot to brush it off, I don’t know–”
“Be honest. You thought it was cocaine.”
Seokjin did this thing where he most certainly did think something, but he wasn’t willing to say it out loud, so he just wiggled in place and made his hands dance while the tiny chunk of his fluffy honey blond hair flapped around in the sprout he had it in. His head looked like a golden apple.
“So, let me get this straight, instead of saying, you have something on your shirt, you said, your boobs?!”
He continued doing the wiggling hand dance.
“Mmm-hmmmmmmm…” you hummed.
Seokjin dropped his hands, quickly changing the subject. “What about you? How was Yoongi? Boring?”
You rubbed your thumb against the base of your left middle finger. “Hm, it was kind of nice. But we mostly talked about me. I asked about his work, but he didn’t seem to want to get into it.”
Your roommate puffed his cheeks. “Ah, yeah. He’s having a creative block, I think. He didn’t tell anyone, but he was being really crabby when he was hanging out with us and Hoseok got it out of him. I don’t think he likes admitting he’s stuck, hah.”
You recalled Jung Hoseok’s cheerful demeanor and heart-shaped smile. “Oh, huh. Hoseok does seem like the kind of guy that could talk to someone about that kind of thing.”
“I think that’s why Yoongi’s not really interested in relationships that much, because his head is somewhere else. I’m sorry that he’s not trying.”
You frowned, thinking back to that smile turning into a smirk.
“I don’t think that’s it…”
You tapped your finger against your cheek.
Seokjin stuck his head into your view from the right.
“Thinking about younger dudes again?”
Your eye twitched. You put a hand on his face and shoved him out of view.
He showed up on your left.
“Because you should stop fucking younger dudes if you’re going on dates with Yoongi.”
You placed a hand on his face again and pushed him away. “I’m not thinking about younger dudes, fuck off. I don’t have sex younger guys on purpose. It just happens.”
Seokjin popped his head above you and gave you a pair of huge, disbelieving eyeballs. You squinted angrily back. His eyebrow raised; brown orbs skeptical. You clicked your tongue at him and he retreated, settling down on the couch in front of you.
“Did Yoongi cancel on you again?”
You shrugged. “Said he was working on something and that he was sorry that we had to reschedule.”
Seokjin looked unconvinced again, but this time it wasn’t directed at you. “He should at least pretend to care,” he scowled.
You shrugged again. “I mean, maybe he doesn’t like me.”
“I don’t care whether he likes you or not, he agreed to this, so at least attend the damn dates!”
“Wow, very nice way to put it,” you replied dryly.
He waved a hand impatiently. “Besides, don’t be dumb, Yoongi has said before he would totally bang you.”
You raised an eyebrow.
Seokjin seemed to realize what he said and dropped his phone right on his dick.
You burst out laughing.
Your best friend wheezed, scrambling around to grab his phone before he gingerly rubbed his crotch, wincing as you continued laughing, you falling over on the armrest of the couch and clutching your sides as Seokjin snapped at you, voice rising to shrill rap levels.
“Yah, you think this is funny?! I could have died! I could be childless and all you’re doing is laughing at my pain, so mature of you, you insensitive jerk!”
You snorted and shook yourself free of your laughter, smirking widely. “Why would the topic of banging me ever come up in conversation with you guys?” you redirected, bringing him back to the reason ho he almost crushed his own nuts.
He made a pained squeak, eyes shifting. “Er, well, he was complaining about the whole thing in general, saying he didn’t really wanna date any of the girls we brought into the love roulette thing and then Taehyung made him pick one out of all of them, that if he had to close his eyes and fuck, which one, and Yoongi scoffed and said, that’s easy and I wouldn’t close my eyes.” Seokjin stuck his tongue out in distaste at the memory. “Never have I been more mortified hearing your name.”
Oh? Kim Taehyung would do something childish like that, forcing someone to choose on the spot. Still, it seemed Yoongi had chosen rather easily, or at least that’s what it sounded like. Seokjin fumbled around his phone and typed into it. Your phone pinged with his message.
“Here, just show up at his studio. Dude should at least spare an hour talking to you or something. Whatever he’s doing cannot be that important.”
The door unlocked with a beep and a shaggy blond head stuck out, blearily blinking at you.
“Huh? What are you doing here, noona?”
Please stop saying it like that. It is disturbing me for some reason. You waved your hands around, mimicking you annoying best friend.
“Something, something, uphold the integrity of the love roulette, my name is Kim Seokjin and you will listen to me or I will lock you out of this apartment and never let you back in, even though he’s the one who asked me to move in with him because he’s too cheap to pay the full rent on his own even if he is fully capable of it.”
You finished by flapping your arms and rolling your eyes.
“Anyway, I’m here now. We can just talk. I can’t go back until at least an hour has passed.”
You saw Min Yoongi chew on his lower lip. He was bare-faced, in a large gray t-shirt and black track pants with black sandals. “Ah…” he started before sighing. “I could take you somewhere nicer than–”
You waved a hand. “This is fine. I like watching people at work. Provides insight into their interests.”
He gave you a strange look and tilted his head. Then he backed up and held the door open for you with an apologetic smile.
“To be honest, I’m not really working.”
You stuck your head in the studio space and saw the pile of crumpled paper and a notepad with a pen, surrounded by empty coffee cups and torn open snacks, as if he had only sampled one from each and put them back down. There was a gray sofa next to the door that looked like it had seen many a comfy nap. The table on the other side of the room was quite large, holding a monitor, keyboard, and various other things that surely had to do with music, but you weren’t informed enough to know them. Amps shoved under the table and against the wall. Speakers and television above the monitor. But that’s not what got your attention.
It was the wall of bass.
Okay, it had guitars on it too, one acoustic, one electric, and two bass. Actually, there almost seemed to be a third, but there were no strings on it and it seemed to be purely made out of wood. You tilted your head, stepping inside to look at them, but Yoongi touched your arm.
“Ah, shoes off…”
You reached down to unzip your boots and step out of them, hearing Yoongi close the door behind you. You looked up again and wandered off to the far wall, looking at the instruments. The cases for them were stacked neatly in the corner. The acoustic guitar was black. The electric was white, turned cream with age, the metal plate scratched with use. One bass was a dark amber color with a marbled texture. It was also a bit scratched. The other bass was pure black with hints of crimson inlaid into the wood grain, giving it a dark appearance. This one seemed newer.
“These three are recording ones,” Yoongi said softly behind you, pointing to the first three. He pointed to the black and red one. “Show one.”
You pointed to the wooden one on the floor. It had an interesting shape to it and it was quite large.
Yoongi let out a puff of air. “Supposed to be a custom make. But I don’t have the money for it right now to get it painted.” He clicked his tongue, seemingly disappointed about it.
You squatted down and tilted your head to inspect the details.
“I’ve never painted wood before,” you murmured. “Only canvases and paper. I guess a bass would be even more different than a décor piece, huh, considering it needs to be durable and stand up to constant use.”
“You’re interested in art? I thought you were a medical records clerk.”
You laughed, standing up and brushing off your long black-and-white check flannel shirt that you were wearing as a dress. “I am, to pay the bills, not because it’s my lifelong passion,” you replied, looking over the wall. “I’m interested in a lot of things. My problem is that I can’t maintain interest in things, so I try not to invest in them. I find that I feel satisfactory at the first results I get, so I never try to achieve more. It’s a bad habit.”
“Jack of all trades, master of none?”
You didn’t respond for a moment. Then you looked at him, blond, fluffy-haired Min Yoongi, watching you curiously like a cat with his pointed, dark brown eyes. Dedicated musician.
“I think I lack an interest in life in general,” you sighed, looking around the studio. “That’s why I like watching people enjoying their interests.”
Yoongi chuckled dryly, ending with a sigh and running his long fingers through his hair. “Right now, I wouldn’t say I’m enjoying my interests…” he mumbled, kicking aside a balled-up piece of paper. It hit your ankle, grazing your sock.
“Seokjin said you were experiencing a creative block.”
He scowled and went to the office chair, spinning it around and slumping down into it, his blond hair ruffling. You could sense his tiredness, although it didn’t seem purely physical. Yoongi looked past you, to the wall of instruments.
“Sometimes I wish I wasn’t interested in music.” He scoffed a little, glancing at you. “You think that’s stupid, huh? For me to spend all this money and time, only to sit on my ass for hours throwing paper around and wishing I didn’t want to do it.”
You shrugged, sitting down on the sofa. “I don’t really have an opinion.” You looked around you at the four walls and the frosted glass door. “I’m not really the kind of person to spend hours on something. I give up easily, which might be just as bad. The fact that you’ve even been here doing nothing is impressive to me.”
Yoongi raised his eyebrows disbelievingly.
You pointed to his instruments. “The fact that you even play bass is intriguing. It’s often overlooked as an instrument.”
He snorted, clearly annoyed. You paused before continuing, sensing that Yoongi was about to do something. He abruptly stood up and walked over to the wall, taking the amber bass off its hooks and came back, sitting back into his chair. He didn’t say anything to you, just started playing. You sat patiently and listened to the bassline of ‘Seven Nation Army’ by The White Stripes.
“That wasn’t played on a bass, Yoongi.”
His sharp eyes shot to yours, narrowing.
“That was played on a guitar tuned down an octave.”
He stopped, placing his palm over the strings. “What?” he hissed.
You shrugged. “Yeah.” You pointed to his keyboard. “And a lot of famous basslines are played on a keyboard or synth bass.”
“Now, of course,” he snapped. “Charlie Puth’s ‘Attention’, Bruno Mar’s ‘24K Magic’–”
“Michael Jackson’s ‘Thriller’ and ‘Billie Jean’ as well.”
“I am not.”
“Where the hell have you been? It’s been five hours!”
“Oh, hey Seokjin. Hold this for a second.”
Kim Seokjin made a face as you handed him a large heavy bag and you leaned over to pick up the thing wrapped in beige canvas fabric beside the door. His eyes widened as you hoisted the item and walked into the apartment with the wooden bass body.
“The fuck? Isn’t that Yoongi’s?” Seokjin blurted, kicking the door closed and following you.
“Yeah, he asked me to paint it.”
“You can paint?”
You placed the body on the kitchen table and took the bag from him, taking out the supplies inside. Wood sealer, sandpaper, gloves. You frowned, thinking.
“Apartment might smell weird for a couple days.”
“What… What is going on?” Seokjin sputtered, looking at the mess that you were slowly making as you laid everything out. “You suddenly paint guitars?”
“Okay, bass, but this doesn’t make any sense,” he cut in, smacking the table. “Yoongi barely trusts us to touch his instruments! Why… how could he trust you to paint that bass body that I know he spent months saving up for? You don’t know anything about stuff like this.”
You shrugged, pulling out your phone. “I can look at up.”
“But why would he trust you?”
You paused, tilting your head. You furrowed your brow, thinking.
“I don’t know,” you finally admitted. “He just said to do it.”
“Why would you want to know these things?”
Yoongi was sitting beside you on the sofa after you had indeed proved to him of the famous but impostor basslines. You shoved your phone in your pocket and shrugged. “I like knowledge. I just don’t do much else outside of that,” you said with a soft chuckle, placing a hand on your cheek. “I’m too busy being dragged into Seokjin’s grand master plans and ideas, so I guess I just invest my time into people rather than a hobby.”
Yoongi’s eyes drifted to his desk.
“I don’t invest in people much. Just music.”
He let out a little puff of breath.
“People are disappointing.”
“Yeah, Seokjin’s kind of a fool, but he usually makes dinner, so I guess I have to compromise.”
Yoongi burst out in his raspy and deep laughter. “Hah, it’s funny when you talk down to hyung so nonchalantly, noona.”
You twitched a little at the honorific. Your eyes shifted and you caught his gaze, realizing he was watching you, smile dancing on his lips. You raised an eyebrow at his expression. The smile was slowly turning into a smirk.
“What?” you finally asked, breaking the silence.
Yoongi spoke frankly. “Seokjin told me you like fucking younger guys.”
Your eye twitched. “I don’t know they’re younger most of the time. I usually find out later,” you muttered, waving a hand.
“Hmm. Why? More vigorous?” he prodded.
You made a face. “What am I, a vampire sucking the life force out of youth? No.”
Yoongi leaned forward, pushing back half of his blond hair so he could look at you and raise his dark eyebrow, searching your face for the answer. “You’re attracted to immaturity?”
“Psh, if that was true, I would have dated Seokjin a long time ago.”
Yoongi nodded, placing his chin on the back of his left hand, that small smile still there, musing for a moment. He hummed, looking you up and down.
Those dark brown orbs examined you and, for some reason, you felt that he was about to hit the nail on the head. You weren’t sure how you knew. You just knew.
“Because you don’t want to feel that you’ve become an adult.”
You breathed out slowly, staring into those pensive, cat-like eyes.
“Hm,” you tutted, clicking your tongue. “It’s not that anything has changed since I graduated.” You stuck your tongue into your cheek, contemplating. “The same routine every day – work, hang out with Seokjin, sleep, work, hang out with Seokjin, sleep. All I did was replace school with work. At least school had finals and summer to break up the time. Now it feels like the time just runs together into a muddled puddle.”
You heard his presence shift beside you and you grasped that you had lost focus for a moment, snapping your head up to see Yoongi leaning forward, peering at you curiously. So close you could smell his scent, not cologne, but perhaps his laundry detergent. Or maybe it was just Yoongi, smelling a bit like a newly printed book and a little woodsy. Clean. He tilted his head. From here you could see how his pink lips were moisturized, but over-bitten, chewed at unconsciously. His fair skin seemed to glow along with his bleached hair, giving him an ethereal appearance.
The way he said it, husky and deep, was highly unsettling.
Mostly because you found yourself utterly speechless.
“You said you like watching people at work.”
He ticked his head, giving you an open-mouthed smirk.
“I think you gave me a good idea.”
You tilted your head, frowning.
“Do I have to sand it?”
“Ugh, it stinks!”
Seokjin walked past your and flipped open the window, sucking in a vat of air.
“Let’s move the table next to the window so I don’t get high off whatever the fuck you’re doing,” Seokjin complained, practically picking up the table on his own, and you panicked a little, grabbing the wood sealer and sandpaper before it could roll off. “Oof, heavy…”
“I am! What, you think I want to ruin your project? Hell no! Yoongi would torch my nuts off for messing with his bass and his fuckbuddy.”
You blinked at him as Seokjin set the table down, rolling out his broad shoulders.
“I haven’t slept with Yoongi.”
He jerked, honey blond hair flying. “What? You’re kidding me. You must’ve.”
You raised an eyebrow. “Huh? Why?”
Seokjin raised his hands, frowning. “Uh, because he’s actually in a good mood for once? Men are usually in a good mood when they’re getting laid.”
“Is that why you’ve been in a good mood lately?”
He blinked very rapidly.
You blinked back.
He coughed, exaggerated and dramatic. “What?”
“Did you sleep with ‘your boobs’?” you asked, very calmly and very matter-of-factly.
Seokjin did this thing where he did not want to respond to you, and instead wiggled in place and made his hands dance awkwardly. His ears were turning very red.
“Uh… hah…” you mused, clicking you tongue. “Was it nice?”
He coughed again.
He waved a hand and squinted at you angrily. “Well, I ended up doing a lot of work, but she’s cute, so…”
“You like doing work.”
“I really do not want to talk about that package you opened three years ago where you did indeed find out I like doing very specific kinds of work,” he hissed at you. “Do not bring that up again.”
You nonchalantly shrugged. “I wasn’t trying to. You did.”
Seokjin winced, realizing his mistake. “Ack…”
“I’m not judging you.”
“I know you’re not…”
“I didn’t sleep with Yoongi, mostly because he was showing me how he makes songs.”
Seokjin blinked rapidly, but this time in surprise. “What? Yoongi?” He placed a hand on his chin, frowning. “Wow, really? Yoongi doesn’t like showing his stuff until it’s done.”
“I wouldn’t know. He said I gave him a good idea.”
“Yah…” Your roommate looked impressed. “You got him out of his creative block? Just like that?”
“Well, before that we were arguing if ‘Thriller’ had a real bass playing the bassline, but it doesn’t, it’s a synth bass–”
“Do you speak Korean or what?” he teased.
You gave Seokjin a look between, choose to get your nuts kicked or run away.
He scurried into the kitchen with a hasty wave and you went back to Yoongi’s bass.
“I think you’re super hot.”
“I think the same about you.”
Min Yoongi smirked, ticking his aviator sunglasses down. You looked back at him, holding the can of dark blue lacquer paint. His blond hair was slicked back again, with a spare lock sticking out over his exposed forehead. That small smile was on those lips again.
“What?” you finally asked.
“I expected more of a reaction,” Yoongi hummed in that deep voice of his. “But I’m glad you responded the way you did. It’s better.”
You chuckled, picking up another can of a slightly lighter cobalt blue, but still dark. “Hm. I’ll admit I didn’t think you’d talk to me like a university kid.”
Yoongi chuckled. “Isn’t that what you’re into? Younger men?”
“I could use these cans as a blunt weapon, you know.”
“Not if you find me super hot.”
That unsettling shiver travelled up your spine before he said it.
You stared at the ingredients of the can as if those chemical names meant jack shit to you. Slowly, you raised your head, removing your eyes from the blue paint and found dark brown orbs framed by blond strands and black brows watching you curiously like a cat. He had removed his sunglasses, holding them loosely in his hand. Your hands felt heavy even though you wore the same three rings every day. Your body felt hot even though you were wearing a floaty white shirtdress belted at the waist and white sneakers. The air conditioning was on at full blast in the store.
There was no reason to feel heavy and hot.
Yoongi leaned in and his forehead touched yours.
“I like this blue better,” he murmured softly, pointing to the other can in your other hand.
Your heart was beating so fucking fast.
“I need both,” you whispered softly, feeling the softness of his hair brushing your forehead. “I’m going to try to do a gradient effect. Black edges and blue center. When I build it up in layers, it will hopefully look more multi-dimensional.”
Yoongi’s eyebrows rose. “Oh?” You heard his smirk more than seeing it, your gaze caught in that reflective spark that suddenly appeared in his eyes. “I like that idea.” He wasn’t backing away, but he wasn’t trying to force you to stay in place. You could take a step back easily. Yoongi nudged you lightly with his forehead, and you felt it again, even before he said it in that raspy, soft, husky tone of his.
You swallowed hard.
You heard his small smile.
“I’m glad you’re maintaining interest in this little project I’ve given you.”
You thought that was it. You almost relaxed.
Then Yoongi closed his eyes and gently pressed his lips to yours.
“What happened next?” Seokjin asked excitedly, clutching his white alpaca plush and bouncing on the kitchen chair as you laid out the cans of paint, praying your idea wasn’t stupid as fuck or, rather, that you wouldn’t execute your idea stupid as fuck.
“Nothing,” you snapped. “We were in the middle of the store. What did you think we did, fuck?”
Seokjin shrugged, pursing his full lips in knowing doubt. “I mean you said you fucked that guy with the tattooed arm in the back of that bar.”
Your hands stopped moving, suddenly tense. “That was in the bathroom and it wasn’t that public.”
“You could sneak into the bathroom again. What was the bar guy’s name again?”
You cleared your throat. “I forget.”
“No, you didn’t, you bonehead,” Seokjin scowled, bonking you on the head with his alpaca. “You always remember every guy’s name because you stare at their driver’s license and that’s how you find out they’re younger than you.”
“I didn’t look this time.”
“Liar. You said before you opened his wallet.”
“His license wasn’t in it.”
Seokjin jerked his head back, raising his eyebrows so high they disappeared into his honey blond bangs. “Yeah, sure, he wouldn’t bring his ID to a bar. What do you think I am, an idiot?”
“A fool,” you corrected automatically, holding up your right ring finger.
Seokjin bonked you repeatedly on the head with his alpaca.
Your eyes shifted side to side quickly, avoiding his gaze.
He stopped, frowning.
“What? Do I know him or something?”
The doorbell rang.
Seokjin yelled over his shoulder. “It’s open!” He rolled his eyes, turning his attention back to you. “As if I don’t know you’re coming, Jungkook…”
Then he stopped moving, brown eyes widening like saucepans.
The door opened and a cheerful voice was heard, bounding in after kicking off his shoes.
“Hey! Are you ready to go bowling, hyung? I’m gonna kick your ass today once again!”
Seokjin was staring at you.
You were trying not to look at Seokjin.
Jeon Jungkook popped up next to you two, wearing a short-sleeved olive-green shirt and torn-up olive pants. Black-haired, tan skinned, chisel-jawed Jeon Jungkook with a bright smile that matched his eyes that was slowly turning into confusion. Vibrant and cute Jeon Jungkook who also happened to be five years younger than both you and Seokjin.
Oh, and also.
Had a right arm covered in tattoos.
Jungkook blinked quickly, looking from you to Seokjin, not understanding.
Seokjin was pretty forgetful. He only remembered details of conversations when he was in continuous chat, but afterward, he usually didn’t walk around trying to make connections and put two and two together. He just didn’t think life was a jigsaw puzzle he needed to assemble.
And, well, neither of you acted any differently after certain, er, events happened.
“YOU FUCKED JUNGKOOK AT A PUIBLIC BAR?”
“I heard you fucked Jungkook at a public bar.”
Your eye twitched.
“Was it nice?”
You coughed, scratching your cheek. “Something like that.”
Min Yoongi leaned against his desk and smirked. “Oh. How interesting.”
You stuck your hands in the pockets your black denim jacket and sighed. “This was before the love roulette, thing, okay? And it was one time.”
“Yeah, but you knew who Jungkook was, so you already knew his age.”
You clicked your tongue, narrowing your eyes at that shaggy blond head of hair and amused smile. “So what? He’s an adult. I’m an adult.”
“So you admit you go for younger men on purpose.”
You pinched the bridge of your nose, wincing. “Yes, we established I have this weird dislike for being an adult even though I am one, thank you for reminding me.”
“It’s not that weird.”
You lowered your hand, rubbing your thumb against the base of your left middle finger, onto your silver ring. You looked down at Yoongi sitting at his recording studio desk, wearing an oversized black t-shirt and loose pants, chin resting on the back of his hand, elbow on the tabletop. He lowered his hand to drum on the table with his fingertips.
“I think you’re right. Being an adult sucks ass.”
You blinked slowly, thumb stilling.
“And fucking someone younger than you is completely reasonable, considering you’re incredibly hot.”
You weren’t sure if he was just saying complete horseshit or actually validating you in some strange manner. His face was just too neutral to tell. Still, Yoongi frowned and placed his palm on the surface of the desk, seemingly selecting his next words carefully.
“Thing is, I’m kind of pissed, honestly.”
He stood up and you raised your eyebrows as he cocked his chin, looking down at you now because of his height. Yoongi stuck his tongue in his cheek and narrowed his eyes.
“Jungkook? Just because he’s the youngest?” he asked, walking towards you and making you take a step back. He took another step and your backed up, his head tilting as he continued speaking in that deep, husky voice of his. His face is completely indifferent despite his words. “Or what? Because you find him sexy? Sexier than me?”
The back of your knees hit the sofa.
Yoongi stopped advancing.
That unsettling shiver shot right down your spine and you somehow already knew what was coming next.
“Or,” he purred. “Is it because he calls you noona?”
You didn’t say anything.
Mostly because you couldn’t.
Jeon Jungkook smiled against your lips, cradling your face in the bathroom stall like this was happening in his bedroom and not in the back of a bar.
“Did you know you shiver when I call you that?” he whispered in between kisses.
His tongue traced your lower lip sensually, staring into your eyes. “Does it turn you on?”
He kissed you again, pressing his hard body into yours. “You know what turns me on?” he murmured, slowly unbuttoning the long black shirt you were wearing as a dress.
He leaned in, sliding his right hand into your shirt and your bra, squeezing your breast with his hand and pinching your nipple with two fingers as you gasped in his ear, his lips on yours.
“Knowing that you like it so much when I say it, noona.”
You found your teeth sinking into your lower lip, chewing slowly.
Yoongi reached up and teased it out, pressing his thumb into the fullness.
“Don’t do that,” he murmured. “It’s a bad habit.” He half-smiled. “I would know.”
It wasn’t just the word. Honorifics were simply remained as honorifics if the person saying them wasn’t attractive to you. And even if they were, it usually depended on the tone and inflection of it. It needed to have that little edge of teasing without sounding arrogant or overbearing. And the voice saying it mattered. Deep. Slightly raspy. Husky.
Yoongi smirked, flashing the side of his teeth and gums.
You sucked in your cheek, narrowing your eyes. You had to force yourself to speak.
He ticked his head, blond strands curling around that glowing cheekbone.
“I asked him the kinds of things you liked,” Yoongi purred. “Wanna fuck?”
“You’re working so hard on it.”
You rubbed your shoulder, staring at the blue and black body of Yoongi’s bass. “I just want it to look almost like brushstrokes. I have this image in my head. Like a painting.”
Seokjin rubbed your other shoulder. “Still, I’ve never seen you work so hard on something. It’s not even yours. Is he paying you or something?”
You snorted. “Of course not. How can I charge him when I have zero experience?”
“Looks cool already though,” Seokjin said, poking your cheek. He smiled affectionately, taking the time to correct the loose strands of hair hanging over your face before going back to massaging your shoulder. “You are talented when you apply yourself.”
“Ah, shut up.”
“Heh, just kidding.”
Yoongi took a step back, shrugging casually, hands in his pockets.
You narrowed your eyes. “I’m not.”
Then you reached out and curved your arm around him, placing your hand in that light blond hair, and yanked Yoongi back, his scent back in your vicinity, like new book pages and fresh woods, clean and memorable, bringing his lips to your lips, your thumb on the base of your left middle finger, pressing into that silver band, and Yoongi’s lashes were lowering, leaning down to meet you, his whisper ghosting your lips.
“I’m still a younger man,” he teased.
You clicked your tongue, tangling your fingers in his hair.
“Shut up, Yoongi.”
And you kissed him, his smirk against your lips for only a half-second before he was kissing you back, and it made you breathless, simply breathless at the intensity of it, nothing like that quick softness at the store, but closer to a sudden euphoric rush, your thumb falling from your finger to instead encircle his waist and slide up against his back, pulling him to you and Yoongi was already matching you, his large hands on your waist and deft fingers dancing up your sides, tongue teasing the side of your mouth, making you chase it, chuckling as you growled, forcefully pulling his body to you, flipping open your jacket so it was his t-shirt to yours, two thin layers keeping you apart.
"Hey,” Yoongi murmured against your lips and you could tell the words about to come out his mouth were not going to be sexy ones. “Tell me what it means to be an adult."
Your brow twitched. "It means for some dumbass reason I still want to fuck a guy who would rather ask philosophical questions than put his dick in me."
He chuckled and you opened your eyes to his smirk as he pushed you down onto the sofa. “We can still talk about your plethora of wisdom while I’m fucking you.”
“I can’t say I want an existential crisis while getting dicked,” you muttered irritably.
Yoongi’s fingers traced your chin, cocking an eyebrow, dark brown orbs glittering with amusement. “You sure you’re not going to have an identity crisis since I’m not young enough for you?” he drawled, snickering.
“Oh, for fuck’s sake, Yoongi,” you growled, pushing your jacket off your shoulders. “I can’t even think when you use a simple ass honorific with me and no one I’ve ever encountered has ever done that to me in my entire life.”
You froze, realizing what you just admitted, your eyes widening and staring up at him, blond hair covering part of his dark brown eyes. Expression unreadable, still holding your chin loosely, shapely pink lips parting. Shit. Your pulse was racing against his fingertips, thundering in your ears.
Yoongi’s thumb slid up and pressed against your lower lip.
He exhaled deeply.
“I can’t…” he mumbled, leaning in. “Really think that well around you either, noona.”
You almost jumped as his lips pressed against yours, startled that Yoongi admitted anything at all, and clearly right to your face and not left ambiguous like every other time, although at the moment his lust was not even remotely ambiguous as his tongue slid between your lips, coaxing yours, his hands sliding down your large t-shirt, fingers grasping the hem and forcefully yanking up, groaning softly as he grabbed your thighs, squeezing hard, kissing you deeper before breaking apart, forehead to forehead, his blond hair feathering against your cheeks.
“Fuck,” he hissed, clutching the softness and spreading them apart, kneading them strongly between his fingers. “Fuck, your legs are so fucking sexy. Fuck,” he continued, teeth sinking into his lower lip, looking down at them, watching the way his fingers sank into them, sending shivers up and down your spine as his nails dug into your skin, the plushness standing out between his long digits. “Fuck, I just want to shove my dick between then and get off like that.”
He let go and you gasped as he slapped his palms on the outside of your thighs and forcefully pushed them together, moaning at the sound of them hitting each other. His thumbs slid inward, following the line of your joined thighs.
“Right here, fuck…”
You wondered if he somehow forgot you were still there for a second before his eyes suddenly locked with yours, lower lip popping out from between his teeth.
“Gonna eat you out right now,” he whispered in that low, raspy tone.
That was about as coherent as you could get as he dropped to his knees and you hurried to yank down your panties, Yoongi taking over and pulling them down off your legs, tossing them onto the couch carelessly, scooping his hands under you to grab your ass and yank your heat to his face, already dripping for him, his satisfied sigh warming your inner thighs as he leaned in, open-mouthed smirk on his lips.
Dangerous eye contact.
“Can’t wait to make you feel good,” he purred, ticking an eyebrow.
You felt an embarrassing clench even before he said it, a little teasing and playful.
His pink tongue slid out and he lowered his head, rendering you breathless in seconds, not just from the lewd gesture but from the contact of tongue to your soaked pussy, licking up and down in long elegant strokes, oh, fuck, warm, soft, but also pressure, dipping into your slit and humming with pleasure from your muscles tightening. Your head tipped back as he slowly fucked you with his tongue, your hand naturally travelling up and pushing his blond hair away from his face, looking into those cat-like eyes, his black pupils expanding as he observed your reaction, somehow still seeing the smirk in those eyes. He angled your hips more to his face and leaned back a little, letting you watch his tongue slide in and out of you, not exactly deep but fucking hot as hell, and ten times better with his smug expression.
“Y… Yoongi, fuck…”
He chuckled and retreated his tongue, glossy from your juices and his saliva, raising an eyebrow.
“Let’s move to the main stage.”
You had maybe a second to appreciate Yoongi’s blond hair tangled in your fingers with his self-satisfied smirk and pink tongue covered in you before he dove in again, the wet muscle smacking your clit. You hissed a little, bucking your hips into his face, and his hands rose, grabbing your thighs and shoving them onto his shoulders, bobbing his head up and down, flicking his tongue against your clit and sucking, you finally getting the hint and pressing your thighs against his cheeks, rocking your hips into his face and he moaned into your core, pleased with your addition to his work, looking up at you through his lashes, throbs of ecstasy heightened by his scorching gaze, one of your hands in his blond locks and the other holding your shirt out of the way to see everything, your shoulder blades pressing into the back of the couch and your ass in his strong hands holding you in place, his skillful tongue and lips driving you insane.
Fast, hard, tight, wet, shivers at his touch and the pressure, so close, so close, almost aching with need, and it was like Yoongi was listening to every hitch of your breath, every moan, chasing the ones that your made when the pleasure was the highest, until the pleasure was the only thing you could feel, eyes rolling back, hips rising into his face, squeezing his head with your thighs as you came with a sharp cry of his name, tense flinches sliding down your body and into his mouth, his tongue pressed flat to your clit to feel every strong pulse of your orgasm, his moan of your name trapped between your own legs.
The tension in your shoulders lessened and you fell back against the sofa, but Yoongi raised your ass even higher, dropping down to drink your cum, his contented hum vibrating through you and making you leak more onto his face, your gasps filling up his studio as he buried his tongue into your folds and sucked hard, your hips knocking into his chin and nearly falling over yourself.
Yoongi, however, remained firm with his grip.
“Okay, I get it, you’re fucking amazing at eating pussy, fuck…” you panted, releasing his hair and anchoring yourself, your ass literally in Yoongi’s hands now, trying not to tip over from the shaking pleasure. You caught his eye, narrowing yours as you noticed the gleam in them. “What?”
He raised his chin and your cheeks heated, seeing your juices glistening on his skin.
A different kind of glow, all right.
“You taste delicious,” he said, grinning.
“Well, I do, but when you say it like that, you sound like a vampire,” you muttered, looking away and wriggling out of his grasp. He helped lower you, but before you could reorient, Yoongi closed the distance, kissing you again, forcing you to taste yourself, stealing your breath and your senses, lured by a sweet and soft tongue, falling into the kiss that tasted like him and you, his hands pushing your shirt up, up, fingertips dancing over your skin to his melody, falling, falling, back into the couch, Yoongi towering over you, his hair like a gilded curtain shrouding your cheeks, breaking the kiss only to yank your shirt up and over your head before immediately returning, hungry and intense. You felt one of his hands slide under your bra and you reached up impatiently to unhook it and fling it aside, moaning into his mouth as he kneaded your breasts, running his fingertips over your hard nipple, smiling at your reactions.
“I like your sounds,” Yoongi chuckled, nipping at your lower lip. “Soft but impatient. So sexy.”
But before you could finish, you cut yourself off with a gasp, feeling his fingers slide down your stomach and rub light circles onto your throbbing clit, captured by his lips again. You raised your hips to his touch, but he was already doing it, two fingers sliding into you, inhaling in your exhale, his thumb stroking your clit as he slowly thrust in and out, his name whimpered into his mouth, Yoongi, fuck, and yours breathed into your mouth, just one more, I want to feel you in my hands, rolling your nipple between his fingers, your hiss for him to be rougher and his small smile against your lips.
His lips, trapping you in a heated kiss, his hand, pinching your nipple, the other hand, two fingers deep and his thumb coaxing your clit, fast and forceful, far too masterful with his hands, doing two things at once, playing you like his instrument, and with that thought you tipped over the edge, somewhat indignant with yourself that you just mentally compared yourself to Yoongi’s bass, but soon the pleasure was too much and the thoughts melted like butter, waves rushing up from your core, making you break away from Yoongi’s kiss and moan loudly, the lewd mix of your voice and the squelch of your orgasm pouring onto his palm soaked by the soundproofing, accented by Yoongi’s little huff of triumph, sighing as he felt your walls clench around his fingers powerfully.
“Right now, I think,” Yoongi mused.
You clicked your tongue as he grinned, slowly pulling his fingers out. He yanked his shirt over his head and you reached over to your jacket, only to feel Yoongi smack your thigh to get your attention. You stopped and shot him an annoyed look.
You caught the condom he threw at you. You raised your eyebrows, surprised that he had one prepared. Usually, you were the one who had to take charge of safe sex.
Yoongi snickered. “What? I’m old enough to take responsibility for my own dick.”
Until he yanked his pants and underwear down and you saw his very beautiful cock pop out.
“What are you looking so shocked for? You’re completely naked,” Yoongi chuckled, kicking his pants aside. “Why wouldn’t I be hard?”
“I… wasn’t really expecting you to have such an attractive dick.”
Now he raised his eyebrows and you felt you neck heat, realizing that you once again spoke before thinking. You almost looked away, but he smirked, just a flash of teeth and gums, light blond hair messy and wild, and you felt the anticipation rise within you again, staring deep into those dark brown cat-like eyes.
“So sorry that you can’t just sit here and stare at it, because I’m going to put it in you…”
You were already tearing open the condom, cheeks on fire, but still somehow very much wanting to hear it from anyway that deep, husky, masculine voice.
The age difference wasn’t even that much, but, fuck, did it do things to you.
It took no time at all, Yoongi taking the condom from you, rolling it down, one hand taking your leg and pressing it to his chest, his wordless question of, ready, and your glare of, put your fucking dick in me now, his irresistible smirk at your reaction, and both of you moaning deeply as he sank in, centimeter by hard centimeter, fuuuck, filling you up as you constricted around him, making him work for it, letting him feel it all, his other hand snaking up to cup one of your breasts, flicking your nipple, and you growled and rolled your hips into him, smacking into his crotch. Yoongi sucked in a breath, glaring through wispy strands of blond, but then his expression changed into one of slyness.
Yoongi leaned down slightly, your leg pressed to his abs and pecs, roughly tweaking your nipple, making you gasp with his touch and his expression.
“Fuck me back,” he ordered in a low snarl.
You clenched your jaw and slapped your hips up as he smacked his down, biting back your groan at the intensity, not fast but wholly satisfying, Yoongi playing with your nipples and gripping your thigh, thrusting into you at a steady pace, gaining depth and power from you meeting him, the loud slaps of skin to skin paired with the squish of your wetness, your breathing shallowing into pants, chasing it, chasing him, his melody and his passion, heavy and hot and wanton, so good, fuck, his cock was just so, so fucking good with the way he fitted into your tightness and it was made even better because you were giving back to him as much as he was giving to you, Yoongi’s eyes watching you and you watching his, lost in him and him lost in you, all because Kim Seokjin paid you two hundred thousand won to draw out of a crumpled party hat.
Damn, Seokjin, it really is awesome to be your friend.
“I should thank hyung for his childhood best friend choices,” Yoongi chuckled, saying exactly what you were thinking.
You grinned. “Somehow I think he would be very proud to know we’re talking about him during sex.”
“Better him than philosophy questions according to you,” Yoongi teased, releasing your nipple and planting his hand on the sofa, leaning down to give you a swift kiss, practically bending you in half, quick but blissful, only to reposition himself above you, cocking his head, his voice a purring drawl.
“Think you’ve worked hard enough. Let me reward you.”
And then your hands flew to his shoulder and hair, gasping at his strength, holding on as he really began to fuck you, hard and fast and rough, the smacking sounds getting louder and deafened by the soundproofing so no one on the outside could hear, but inside it was a fucking porno, one of your legs hooked around Yoongi’s waist and the other on his shoulder, your nails digging into his shoulder and scalp, his smirk above you, blond bangs bouncing. The sofa was hitting the wall repeatedly, his cock burying deep inside you and your pussy squeezing his entire length, savoring it all, his labored breathing, his murmur of your name, the sound of him entering you over and over, wanting it, needing it, needing him, completely invested and not sure how to get out anymore, all because Yoongi was looking at you with too much lust, too much fondness, too much interest.
Your name coming from those lips just sounded so, so good, like your favorite song.
“You’re so fucking hot,” he panted.
Coming from someone much younger than you, it might have sounded disingenuous and insincere, but coming from Yoongi it sounded like the highest praise in the world, mostly because of the conviction behind his tone.
Then, the side of his lips quirked up.
You clenched your jaw, but it was too late, too fucking late because you toppled over the edge, tremors of pleasure shooting up from your core, leaving you lost for words and thoughts, nothing but the tumbling fall of orgasm overtaking you, squeezing your thighs around Yoongi’s body and your pussy around his cock, dripping all over his crotch and balls, the smell of sex heavy and sweet. Yoongi groaned, fingers sinking into your thigh and gripping it tight as he thrust into you once, twice, and a sharp hiss of your name, his stiff cock twitching and jerking inside you, spilling into the condom, matching your shivers of pleasure, struggling to catch his breath just like you.
You both panted heavily, staring at the ceiling, relishing in the aftershocks.
“Maybe we should have more philosophical discussions,” you mumbled through wispy pants. “Maybe then we’d be a lot more eloquent while fucking.”
Yoongi snickered, hugging your thigh affectionately.
“Whatever you want, noona.”
You eye twitched involuntarily.
“On second thought, shut up, Yoongi.”
"Working hard for your man?" your best friend teased as you bent over the now blue and black bass body, hair tied up and wearing a mask. The window was open and a warm twilight breeze was drifting in, sunlight orange and fading. You spoke without looking up.
"'Your boobs' showed up looking for you."
You heard Kim Seokjin scowl. "She has a name, you know."
You recalled the name tag pinned onto a uniform that did indeed seem to contain some massive tits.
"Yeah, I don't remember. Anyway, she asked me if you would rather go to that new cryptozoology exhibit or the arcade and I told her you don't like arcades because you almost lost your nuts once at the air hockey table."
"THAT WAS YOUR FAULT!"
You shrugged, deliberately forgetting about hitting the puck so hard that you nearly removed Seokjin's ability to have children. "I told her to get the tickets and that you'll meet her at the museum on Saturday at three in the afternoon."
Your roommate coughed. "Well, I can go earlier, I'll just–"
"No, you are not canceling your dentist appointment. I told her to be extra nice to you because you're going to the dentist and you don't want to be a liar, do you?"
You looked up and Seokjin is making a face that stated he very much wanted to be a liar.
"Also, I told her that she could stay the night, but I can always come back from Yoongi's and interrupt you while you’re getting your dick sucked."
Seokjin frowned and grumbled under his breath, shooting you an annoyed pout.
"You're a big meanie, you know that? Of course, you do. Meanie."
He shuffled away, but not without sticking his tongue out childishly before whipping his head around the corner.
"Damn, that's the second sexist thing I've ever seen."
You made a face.
"Second? What's the first?"
Min Yoongi smirked and raised an eyebrow, not replying.
You narrowed your eyes at him and turned back to the thing you had set on Yoongi’s studio sofa, partially unwrapped from the canvas fabric. The glossy bass body gleamed, now finished with the black border and dark cobalt center, mimicking brushstrokes like a painting, and you thinking of all the hours spent over these three months. It was weird, seeing it done.
"I'm sorry it took so long," you mused, nodding to yourself. "Work, dates, sex."
"I'm not complaining, noona."
Yoongi ignored your snappish response and reached out to run his fingertips over the shine. "Damn. It's going to look so fucking sick fully assembled."
"Didn't you say you found someone to do it?"
Yoongi grinned, removing his hand and pushing back his blond hair. "Mhm, and it's much cheaper since it's painted now."
"Ah. That's good."
"You maintained interest in it."
Your eyes traveled over the curve of the edge, remembering your panic when you found a bubble had formed, using hours and careful sanding to smooth your mistake out. "I did."
"And I maintain interest in you."
You felt an unsettling shiver travel up your spine, pulse hiking, the comprehension of his words sinking in, suddenly speechless at that husky voice and deep depth of Min Yoongi. Your thumb absentmindedly touched the base of your middle finger.
His arm encircled your waist.
"You're going to come with me to every show I use it, aren't you?" he murmured, slightly muffled, and your eyes flickered over to see him cheering on his lower lip. Your thumb fell away from your ring. Yoongi noticed you looking and released his lip. He smelled like the pages of a fresh book with a hint of pine.
He smiled. A small, rueful smile.
"Just kidding. The love roulette thing is over."
His hand almost dropped from your waist, but you grabbed it, looking into those dark brown eyes, seeing yourself reflected in them. He froze slightly at your quick movement, his lips parting in surprise.
Your lips curved into an open-mouthed smirk.
"I invest in people, so I don't think I'll let you go any time soon, Min Yoongi."
"Well, that was fun, I guess?" Jeon Jungkook shrugged.
"I mean, sure for you, you at least got some sex out of it," Kim Taehyung snapped.
"I had a great time even if we're not compatible romantically. We did lots of fun things together!" Jung Hoseok chirped, holding up the friendship bracelets he had made with his match.
"Ah, it was nice to hang out with someone that had such a different perspective from me," Kim Namjoon pondered, smiling widely, his dimples prominent.
"I don't know what you guys are talking about, I'm still seeing my girl."
"Yeah, we know, hyung, you and 'your boobs' are having a grand ol' time," Park Jimin snickered, earning him a smack from Kim Seokjin.
"She has a name!"
"Do you use it when fucking or do you still only comment on her boobs?" Jimin taunted with a naughty grin.
Before Seokjin could commit literal murder, the bell at the door of the café jingled, indicating someone was entering. Everyone looked up (with Seokjin's hands around Jimin's neck) to see Min Yoongi walk in, wearing a loose patterned blue button-down shirt, left open to reveal his white t-shirt underneath, complete with light wash jeans and white sneakers, holding a large black bag over his shoulder. His light blond hair was halfway pushed back, the rest falling partway over his left eye, his dark brows and pointed gaze peering though. His skin glowed, as if the sun itself blessed him with its rays.
Yoongi glanced at his friends, looking almost bored.
"The fuck are you guys doing?" he muttered, shaking his head.
Six pairs of eyes blinked at him in unison.
"Ah, it's so fucking hot today..."
You groaned, following right behind Yoongi, wearing an oversized raglan t-shirt with a cream base and lavender sleeves, readjusting your black cap as you stepped in with your black sneakers. Your three silver rings gleamed in the café lights – the onyx stone on the left, the goat head and the skull jester on the right. You fixed the black waist bag over your chest and looked up to see Seokjin attempting to kill one of his friends again. Jimin this time.
You sighed exaggeratedly. "Can't take you anywhere, Seokjin, sheesh."
Your best friend pushed Jimin away from him and pointed accusingly at Yoongi. "Yah! We said no girls! It was only supposed to be us hanging out! We agreed in the group chat!"
Yoongi scratched his cheek, frowning. "Did I agree to that? I don't recall responding." He sounded like someone who read the chat and ignored it.
"You never respond in the group chat! You're just as bad as Jungkook!"
"That's not true, hyung always reminds us time and place," Namjoon defended.
"You're not supposed to bring the girl because we didn't want anyone to feel bad!" Seokjin continued indignantly, earning a shushing from the manager behind the counter. "Otherwise, I would have brought–"
"'Your boobs'?" Jungkook snickered.
"She has a–!"
You clapped a hand over Seokjin’s mouth, shutting him up. "The girl, like I don't live with you or something. Let's see who's going to unclog the toilet from now on, huh?"
Seokjin glared at you and tried to bite your hand, to which you promptly flicked him in the forehead.
"Anyway," Yoongi chuckled, ignoring Seokjin's attempt in wrestling you and him rapidly losing as he was parried repeatedly. "She's here because I'm going to show you guys something and I want her to see it for the first time too."
Yoongi lifted the black instrument case and placed it on the two joined café tables, small smile turning into a larger, open-mouthed smirk, unable to hide his smug satisfaction as he unzipped the case and lifted the lid, revealing the contents.
Even the manager ran from behind the counter to gawk at the now complete, fully assembled, gleaming black bass with the cobalt blue center, almost like brushstrokes of a painting, complete with the black neck and strings.
"Whoa..." you gasped, pushing Seokjin aside who was too stunned to resist, completely forgetting about his anger, everyone stepping closer to view it. It gleamed under the café lights, wicked and wonderful.
You painted that.
Painted Yoongi's bass.
You helped Yoongi create a one-of-a-kind, blue and black, custom bass that was real, a real instrument that existed before you right now and not just some half-assed project you worked on carelessly, but time you invested diligently for hours on end.
And it looked so fucking sick.
"I can't believe..." you muttered, your eyes roaming over it. "I painted it and it's a bass now...."
"You painted this?" Hoseok sputtered. "That's amazing! I thought for sure Jungkook painted something like this!"
Yoongi chuckled. "Jungkook helped in other ways."
The youngest blinked confusedly. "Eh? But I didn't know you were having a custom bass made so soon."
Yoongi glanced at you and you looked away quickly, eye twitching.
"Don't worry about it."
Jungkook ticked his head and scratched it, not quite understanding. "Ah... okay..."
Everyone was leaning over the bass, admiring the multidimensional paint job and you stood there, frozen, still amazed at your own dedication that somehow became a working instrument.
You jumped, but Yoongi caught you and grinned, pulling you back to his whisper.
Ah, this man was not good for your heart rate.
"Y... You're welcome."
You saw him bite his lower lip lightly, but then he stopped when you made eye contact and the small smile returned. He placed his forehead against yours. It was a simple moment and the excited voices around you seemed to mute all of a sudden. The only voice that mattered, right here, right now, was that deep, warm, slightly husky murmur of Min Yoongi.
"Pretty sure I love you."
"I'm very sure I love you," you whispered back.
He smirked and it was warm and comforting.
Yoongi kissed you right in front of his new bass, something only made possible by time and love invested by you and you alone.
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When they’re in love with you but you have feelings for a different member (Hyung line)
→ tags/warnings: SFW, angstyyyyy (like, I’m sorry but at the same time I wanted to write something sad), no, there’s not a happy ending really idk so read at your own heart’s risk, but like really. I was listening to “Manos de Tijera” while writing this so it’s a wee bit heartbreaking
→ a/n: I don’t really write reactions very often but this seemed fun when @sierra-fics brought it up! I actually have one of your suggestions in my drafts, just haven’t finished it up yet. Thanks for the push, though! I love exploring different styles!
Let me know if you guys would be interested in a maknae line version! (are we surprised I’m starting off with the hyungs? I’m Hyung line trash™)
he’s not surprised
it’s probably the worst part for him, the fact that he’s not surprised when your eyes light up as Taehyung waltzes in the room.
he had been in the middle of plucking up the courage to invite you to try out that new Thai restaurant you’d been chattering about when Tae walked in
and you tried - you really did - to pay attention to what Jin had been saying, but you faltered a bit as Tae greeted you warmly and plopped down beside Jin
and Jin just watched, not surprised.
although what does surprise him is how much it hurts
that pain where your heart literally, physically hurts? it’s an exquisite pain, one that takes his breath away
and it doesn’t go away
it doesn’t fade
so he ends up in Namjoon’s studio later that night, and Namjoon knows to wait for him to open up
Jin just stares for a while, blankly at the wall
“Does Tae like her?”
Namjoon already knows who he’s referring to. He’s known about Jin’s helpless crush on you for ages, he knew before Jin himself figured it out
but it’s the way that Jin asks the question so softly, so carefully, that Namjoon realizes with a start that this is so much more than a crush
and Jin looks at him, misery clear in his eyes but also clear resolve visible even as unshed tears glimmer
“Would you really let her go?” Namjoon counters gently. Because he knows. He knows that if Tae got the green light, you'd be swept up in a matter of seconds.
and it’s the way that Jin stares down at his feet, and the tears begin rolling down his cheeks, that has Namjoon sick to his stomach
Jin nods, and when he speaks, his voice shakes but he sounds so earnest that it breaks Namjoon’s heart
“I’d do anything for her.”
no words are exchanged after that for a long, heart-wrenching moment. it’s just Jin, staring down at his feet and quietly sobbing, and Namjoon, pulling him into an embrace.
“I’m sorry, hyung.”
it’s surprising to Jin, just how much that soft phrase cuts through him. It sounds so final.
because at the end of the day, it’s the only solace that can be offered to him.
he loved, and he lost.
you’re sitting beside him in his studio when the realization hits him like a freight train
sprawled sideways in your designated swivel chair while you stifle a yawn and rub your eyes, Yoongi wonders when he let his emotions get so out of hand
because you’re offering him a shy smile and asking him a question that he numbly answers, but on the inside he’s a total clueless mess
when did he fall in love with you?
it’s something that will haunt him long after you leave that night, rushing out when you get a call from Hobi
for the second time that night, he’s hit with another realization
he’s still reeling from the fact that he’s pretty sure he’s in love with you, so when you gasp and grin when your phone light up with a call, he falters
it’s like being doused with a bucket of ice water, the way you whisper, “oh, it’s Hobi!” and politely ask if you can take the call before rushing out into the hallway
“oh,” he mumbles to himself as the door closes. “it’s Hobi.”
and he laughs.
quietly, darkly. he laughs to himself, at himself, whatever.
because of course it’s Hobi. his best friend, his vitamin. you two deserve each other. of that much he’s certain.
he doesn’t waste too much time feeling sorry for himself; he’s logical enough to see that you two are probably a better match. it’s nothing personal.
so why does he stay in his studio all night, ignoring any calls or messages sent his way?
he’s not sure when he fell asleep, but next thing he knows he’s sprawled out on his little couch and you’re gently shaking him awake
“Yoongo? Did you stay here last night?”
his eyes crack open at the sound of your voice, just enough to be met with your sweet smile
and he, in his half-asleep state, smiles back. he reaches one hand up to gently brush back a strand of your hair, and he swears you lean into his touch
and when you mumble something about Hobi bringing breakfast up, Yoongi is hit with the third realization in less that twenty-four hours.
it’s startlingly simple:
he wants to cry.
so he excuses himself to the bathroom, and cries. sets a five minute timer so nobody gets worried and comes looking for him, and allows himself that time to cry.
then, with machine-like precision, he washes his face and puts some eyedrops in, and goes back out to pretend like everything is fine.
and whenever Jin or Taehyung bring up acting, Yoongi knows. He knows, deep down, that he’s the best actor of all.
because he still loves you
and you will never know.
hobi has never been the most forthcoming with his emotions
he keeps them on lockdown
monitors them with military-like focus
so he knows the exact moment he begins developing feelings for you
(it’s when you brought Bang PD a bouquet for valentine’s day, just to make him blush)
and he knows the exact second when he fell in love
(it was when, after a grueling day at work, you silently walked through his door with his favorite goodies and left without a single word)
(you were wearing a yellow cardigan that day)
(he’s never looked at the color yellow the same way)
if he’s completely honest, he’s sometimes trying so hard to stay on top of his own feelings that he forgets to watch out for where your attention may be drifting
to be fair, you kept your own little crush on Jimin a secret
so when Hobi decides to get over himself and just shoot his shot, he decides he’s all in
and when you arrive at his apartment that night for a movie, you’re shocked to see a bouquet of yellow flowers in Hobi’s shaking hands
“hey” he breathes
you stare at the flowers, then at him
“hello...?” then, with a sinking felling, you point at the flowers. “are those for me?”
hobi smiles broadly. “yeah, they are.” and he hands them to you, allowing his fingers to brush up against yours
it’s electrifying, that small touch
and again, he’s so focused on how electrifying it is that he misses the way you look like you might be sick
pale face, concerned expression
he misses it all, because he’s so nervous but so stupidly in love that he’s just barreling ahead.
gotta get this out of the way
and so when he leads you to sit with him out on the balcony, he takes a deep breath and looks at you with wonder in his eyes
and that’s when he notices the way you’re fiddling with your bracelet
not a problem, except for the fact that it’s the one he saw Jimin carefully choosing from an online collection
so when you keep fiddling with the bracelet and avoiding Hobi’s eye contact, he gets it
he takes a long look at all those emotions he keeps in check, and allows himself a moment of self-pity before reaching out and laying a hand atop your own
you immediately stop fidgeting and look at him with wide eyes. he can see with a pang how you’re trying to come up with the best way to let him down easy
so he does the job for you
“I just wanted to say thank you for the other day,” he says, forcing a light tone. “when you brought me those goodies after work. It really meant a lot.”
you blink, confused. “Oh. uh, you’re welcome.”
“and,” he drawls, a well-rehearsed smile clawing its way onto his face, “I wanted to snoop and get the inside scoop about Jiminie. I know he got you that bracelet. did he finally cave and confess to you?”
you look shocked, but you burst out into relieved laughter. “how did you know?”
he didn’t. “how could I not? he’s absolutely whipped.”
and you blush under the stars and begin to ramble, lost in your excitement and joy.
and Hobi watches. smiling. supportive. laughing at the right spots and asking all the right questions.
later, when you give him a tight hug and thank him for the fun night, he lets the words sting as you call him “such a great friend.” he lets them sting, relishing in the pain.
he reminds you to take your flowers home, and you begrudgingly admit that they’re your favorite type of flower.
he didn’t know. but that hurts, too. the fact that he got it right.
Hobi never looks at the color yellow the same way again.
he’s told you he loves you a million times now
every night, in every dream, he tells you how much he loves you
adores you with everything he is
you manage to find your way into his music, his musings, every piece of artwork he comes across
he's never been like this before
never, he’s sure of it
and everyone knows, except for you.
it becomes a strange game for the boys to play, dropping hints at every opportunity, laughing at your confused expression
Jungkook and Taehyung especially enjoy the chaos that they create, making Namjoon groan and grow embarrassed
but you have no idea
or are you just willfully ignorant?
all Namjoon knows is that he’s swimming in his feelings for you, completely lost and on the verge of drowning
but, oh, what a way to die
he’s never been able to stop himself when it comes to you
and he considers himself rather disciplined, but the way you make him feel he could throw caution to the wind and give it all up
so when you end up staying late one night at the apartment, the boys manage to convince you to stay
“there’s plenty of room” Jungkook muses, feigning deep thought. “besides, it’s too late for you to drive back tonight. just stay.”
and while Namjoon wants to kill them all for the way they offer up his bed to you, he thinks he might actually die when you reluctantly agree with a yawn
he knows he should offer to take the couch, but something stops him
it’s like he physically can’t
“I don’t mind sharing the bed” you state, squinting at him while wearing his basketball shorts and oversized t-shirt.
you look adorable. he’s unsure of how he’s even functioning right now, to be honest. he’s melting.
“just keep your snoring in check, loser”
and he’s back to laughing, turning off the light and hopping into bed
you’re so far away
why are you so far away?
“hey” he whispers, the sound so loud in the quiet. the only other sound is the muffled voices of the other members, no doubt down in the kitchen gossiping about the events of the night
“hey yourself” you whisper back, turning to face him
he can see you in the moonlight, his eyes having adjusted just enough.
and he wants to kiss you so badly
so he smiles, heart leaping when you smile back
and he reaches out, gently tracing your jawline.
you say nothing, heart thundering in your chest
because to be honest, you’re confused
why is he looking at you like that?
but you don’t ask as Namjoon takes a deep breath, steadying himself before propping himself up on one elbow and looking down at you with an adoring expression
your eyes flutter closed as he brushes his thumb against your cheek, and he can feel your heartbeat racing
your reaction gives him all the courage he needs as he leans down, lips capturing your own in a long, sweet kiss
and he’s going out of his mind because he finally kissed you, didn’t he?! finally!!
but those are your hands on his chest, and instead of pulling him in closer you’re gently pushing him away
he’s never hated his name so much.
“I’m so sorry- I- I thought that maybe-” he stutters, pulling himself upright as you do the same, and he launches out of bed, hands in his hair “I’m so sorry, I swear I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable-”
“Namjoon.” you repeat, and he notices now how utterly distraught you look.
because you’re still confused, but there’s one name rolling around in your head even as you can still taste namjoon on your lips.
“I...” you shake your head, unsure of what to say. “It’s just...”
and he’s looking at you with big eyes, taking in every single word you say. and you want to take it all back, want to let him kiss you until you’re breathless, but your heart won’t let you.
“Just what?” he asks quietly, afraid of the answer. so afraid
two syllables, and his world comes crashing down around him.
namjoon is silent, avoiding your gaze as he grabs one of the pillows off of the bed and a spare blanket, heading toward the door.
“I’ll sleep on the couch. I’m sorry.”
and he’s gone before you can utter another word.
sure enough, the boys are still downstairs, and they all fall silent as Namjoon appears, throwing the pillow down on the couch.
“Hyung!” Jungkook asks, scrambling over. “Hyung, what happened? What are you doing down here?”
Namjoon can’t bring himself to look at the maknae, not when he can still picture how it felt to kiss you. not when those few seconds of paradise are still on his lips.
“Didn’t wanna wake her up with my snoring.”
because how could he ever be angry at the boy that looks at him like he’s his savior?
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