#{ hi hi hi! } | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

kithtaehyung · 1 year

Text

flutter (3tan) (m) | myg

title: flutter (m) pairing: 3tan!yoongi x reader(f) series: masterlist | three tangerines | fireworks | house party | basketball | stay | sidewalk talk | friends | dalo | like that | anytime | sundress season | yoongi’s interlude | forfeit rating/genre: m (18+) ; fluff , smut ; brother’s best friend au, implied age gap au summary: the aftermath of a night of confessions and relief. note: this takes place in a timeskip in forfeit :D note 2: i said this already but it still stands - apparently 300 for a goal post is way too easy now🥴 good luck if we end up with another one!! but anyway, hope y’all enjoy the exact content i said i would be taking a break from! LMAO but seriously, i’m resting fr fr after this. also.. i still cannot believe the timing🧍‍♀️ warnings: language, yoongi being yoongi, kisses are a warning again, so is the kitchen, shower moments<33, oral (f rec), fluff as fuuuc my god lol who am i??, yoongi’s chosen fit🧍‍♀️, uhhhh chains but wbk, it’s just a bunch of fluff to heal us after forfeit idk what else to say!! drop date: november 20th, 2022, 5pm est word count: 6.3k🦋

“Come shower with me.”

Oh.

What.

Did he really just say that?

You blink more than once before checking, “You sure?”

“Mm.”

Despite being exhausted down to every fibre of your being, you nod. Because you don’t think this kind of opportunity will present itself until the next blue moon.

Silent, Yoongi leads you out of bed, huffing when you wince at the beautiful soreness between your legs. And in your legs. And everywhere, actually.

“Rude.” You thump back sideways on the bed and sigh. “This is your fault.”

Expecting another laugh, you don’t get one. Instead, he simply lies next to you again, soft but firm stomach pressing into yours. “You wanna just wait for me?”

“No,” you whisper, snuggling into his chest and feeling the clinks of his jewelry. “I wanna go. I just… You got me good.”

He laughs down at your cheek, bringing your chin up and pulling you in for a kiss. “I did, huh.”

Ass. “I’m hearing a severe lack of apology here.”

And you wordlessly repeat your insult when he chuckles even deeper. But he nudges his forehead against yours, and you find yourself suddenly, incredibly shy.

Maybe it’s the fact that, while you don’t see his smirk, you certainly hear it in his question,

“You want me to?”

Immediately, your lips curve upward.

Of course not. Despite your observation, you know that he’d right any wrongs if you were truly hurt. It’s quite considerate of him to still ask in the first place.

“No,” you finally respond, breathy and right before a giggle. “That was hot as fuck.”

He hums, kissing your forehead and making you one with his sheets. “I was going easy on you, doll.”

“Be for real.”

“No lie.”

“…Well, damn.”

A soft snort wisps out, and you feel his muscles stretch as he reaches behind him. When you tilt your head, you realize he’s checking his phone, so you snuggle back against his chest to give him privacy.

You aren’t quite sure how to navigate that part yet.

After a handful of seconds, he sets it back down with a clunk. “When are you gonna leave?”

“Early. I work.”

“K.”

Your fingers come up to play with one of his necklaces, and you tenderly rub each link, one after the next. As your knuckles brush against his skin, you find yourself the utmost content. The most at home.

Yoongi has taught you many things, but one of them has nothing to do with sex. But about people. About how houses can be built with words instead of tools, and take residence in a person instead of anywhere else.

It’s fascinating—and frightening—how someone can become that for you. Especially if that person isn’t quite yours.

Yes, you’re in his place, and yes, he wants you to stay. But there’s still something missing, and you want to keep running until you find it.

If there is a universe out there where you already have, you hope that version of you realizes how lucky they are every day they live.

Your question leaves in a whisper, “Can you help me wake up?”

“Yeah, I can.”

“Thank you.”

Worries aside, you may have lucked out in this universe, too.

Shifting your legs, you breathe and curl into his chest again, realizing only later that he let you sit with your thoughts this whole time. “I think I can get up now.”

He still doesn’t say anything in return, simply vacating the bed and helping you stand.

When you stumble to the bathroom, you weakly pout while he lets out a few hisses of amusement, plotting revenge every tiny step of the way.

“I’ll fight you.”

“You can’t even use those legs.”

“There are other ways.”

“Show me later then.”

After you make the journey, he leads you to lean against his cabinets while he gets the shower ready, opening the glass and turning on the spray.

No other words are spoken, but they don’t need to be. You’re purely content to admire his body in the bright light. Because while you have seen more of this man than you ever thought possible, you haven’t truly taken him in.

As he tests the temperature, you watch the flex of his muscles, noticing how tone he is and how broad his back has become. When he flicks water off his hand and turns to walk back over, a few scars catch your eye.

So many stories of his you still don’t know.

You move to the side when he opens the cabinet behind you, but his stray kiss on your cheek before he gathers towels sets all the butterflies in your belly into a frenzy.

He’s gonna be the end of you.

Watching him leave again, your head tilts.

Yoongi’s being a lot more touchy than you ever suspected. To think this is the same person that almost let you walk out without a word makes your chest squeeze.

And squeeze some more.

This tightness is what makes you push off the counter and follow him to his shower rack, stopping him before planting a light peck of your own on his lips.

When he blinks, you softly smile, taking one of the towels and setting it where you think he was planning on hanging it. Turning, you motion for him to give you his, and you set it next to yours, knowing that you’re both still very naked, not fucking, and not giving a single shit about it.

Yoongi’s voice is almost drowned out by the running water when he asks,

“Does this still hurt?”

Your answer appears in the flinch you make at his touch, but you manage to hum anyway.

“It’s swelling, but I got ice. We can use that after this.”

How has he ever thought of himself as not enough?

You turn to face him, but he’s already opened the door, signaling for you to step inside.

So you do.

Steam and hot water envelop you instantly, and when Yoongi closes the door, you take in the large area and the backsplash that goes nicely with the floor tiles.

While the size of the shower surprises you, the contents of it do not. Yoongi has everything organized here, too, and you can’t help but smile at his consisten—

Wait.

Pause.

You’ve been in here before.

Damn, you didn’t even notice until now.

Makes sense, though. Given your harrowed as fuck state, you didn’t think to observe a single thing the first time.

While you’re casted back to that dreaded night, wet hands lightly grip your sides and pull you back. Your skin feels slick on his, and you find comfort in how his head lightly rests against your shoulder blade.

“I wanted to be in here,” he admits. And after a pause, his clarification has you choked up,

“Last time.”

You squeak out his name, eyes closed under the spray.

“But I didn’t know if you wanted that.”

The twist you make to face him is awkward, but it’s okay—normal. “You did everything right,” you confirm. “If it weren’t for you, I’d still be having nightmares.”

Yoongi doesn’t respond.

“Besides,” you add, observing bangs that are not entirely wet but sticking to his forehead regardless. “I like this being the first time instead.”

Yeah.

He’s so fucking beautiful when he smiles.

When he looks away, he states the most matter-of-factly, “I’m still charging you for all the water we use.”

You laugh through a grin. Looks like he’s consistent in many other ways. “You’re in here, too!”

“So?”

“Fifty-fifty, at least.”

“You’re the reason I have to take one.”

Your eyes roll heavenward before you find the body wash, but Yoongi stops your moments with a touch to your arm. When you swivel your head, his tone drops to a rumble,

“I got you.”

He what? “Huh?”

Yoongi holds his stare on your lips before flicking up to your eyes. “Let me.”

Oh.

This is very new.

Speechless, you shuffle, carefully switching positions as he stands under the water. When he lathers a scrub with body wash that smells entirely him, you let steam shroud your tiny smile.

You’re aware that Yoongi is nothing if not meticulous. But it’s the way he makes sure every inch of you is cleaned that you’re glad the running water covers your face.

Someone tending to you this way?

This is so, very new.

His movements are gentle, yet thorough; soft, yet determined. Whenever you think you’re clean, he keeps going, as if this is something he needs to get absolutely perfect.

Is he scrubbing more than just today off your skin?

Just the thought makes your tears bigger in size.

When he shifts you both so that you’re back under the water, he’s still silent. Almost reverent. If he knows you’re adding salt to the drain, he doesn’t show it. If he hears your little sniffles rebounding off damp walls, he says nothing.

Instead, he straightens, grabbing his shampoo before regarding your head.

He stares, and you know he’s going to ask—because of course he is. But it remains: you’re still going to appreciate his consideration, no matter what.

“Can I.”

You nod, and he slathers the shampoo in his hands before stepping close. When he stills, you search his eyes, noticing that the bags underneath them are almost gone.

“Tell me if I’m doing this shit wrong, okay.”

And butterfly wings tickle your bones all the way up to your heart.

Fucking hell.

You nod again, water collecting on your chin from your eyes as much as the shower head, and your eyes shut as soon as his caring fingers massage your scalp. Your temple moves with his motions, and you feel the most comforted you’ve ever been. At least, ever since…

Your head makes contact with his body before you know it, and Yoongi’s voice is warm and raspy with concern.

“You okay?”

Your request comes out so softly that even you barely register what you say.

“Babe?”

“Kiss me.” Your eyes burn when you look into his, and your more desperate repeat of your words is cut off by his swift lips. “Just kiss m—”

Your lower back is held flush against his front before he pins your shoulders against chilled shower tile, and you won’t realize why he did that until hours later—not without a flutter of your chest.

His kiss is so deep it’s reaching into your soul, and you hear a large hand smack the wall next to you before it curls into a hard fist.

Fuck. You really—

Tears leak from recollection of the last time you heard that bang, and you sling arms around his slippery shoulders before tugging him closer. You say his name between each kiss like it’s habit, as if willing yourself to associate the feel of his affection with the mere sound of him.

But you will you will you will. Even if you ever want to forget.

“Fuck,” he grits out, hanging his head and shooting concern through your limbs.

“Baby?”

“I just.” He takes his fist from the wall to slide along your jaw. And you probably look so, so silly with your head half-full of suds. But he doesn’t care in the slightest, only staring right into your eyes under water flecked lashes. “I’ll be there.”

You stare.

“Whenever, I’ll be there.”

“Yoongi…”

“I know you don’t need me, but I just…” The slow shake of his head heats you from the inside. “Fuck, I’m yours. I’m—”

You bring him in for another lock of desperation, clawing into his damp strands and tugging. So. Hard.

“I’ve been yours, too,” you grit into his mouth. “Ever since I stepped out of here the first time.”

You squeeze your eyes and your fists just the same. “I just knew nothing could really come out of this.”

“Fuck that.” Yoongi grips your neck. “All of that.”

He gives you a kiss that you would pay any amount of money for, if it meant standing under the spray and feeling like heaven perpetually rains.

But after a series of liplocks that triple the steam in the bathroom, he finally pulls away, breath as ragged as yours.

His touch to your forehead makes you melt, but the soft press of lips to your nose is what ends you completely.

Has Yoongi ever done that? Your body seems to think not by the way it burns so tenderly.

As water cascades over the both of you, you think the setting is fitting. This whole night has been tense, and you finally feel it all slipping—leaving your head, down your shoulders, into the drain, and out of sight.

The rest of the time sees you finishing your hair on your own. When it’s his turn, he wordlessly turns down your offer to help and cleans himself, with you simply watching while propped against the tile again.

But while he’s facing away, your curiosity brings your hand to one of his scars, and he turns around to regard you over his shoulder.

When you lock gazes, his softens. Probably because you look as concerned as you feel.

“He was there for that one.”

You nod, not pressing any further. Because now is not the time for such things like the past anymore. Stay in the present, and maybe he’ll end up telling you in the future.

Yoongi finishes up, and after a silent but warm toweling down, you find yourself situated in front of his incredibly organized closet.

He picks out a single shirt instead of two, but you don’t know why until he hands it to you.

“Here.”

When you take it, you don’t expect it to feel so nice. Honestly, you don’t think you’ve felt a shirt this high quality before. “This feels expensive.”

He blows amusement from his nose. “I think it is.” When he pulls a drawer open, you cock a brow as he fishes out a very comfortable looking pair of sweats. “Jimin got that for me.”

“Damn, really?”

“Yeah,” he responds low as you both put his clothes on. “I keep telling him he doesn’t need to get me anything, but. He never listens.”

After changing fully, you rub the material between your fingers while loving how it sits on your shoulders. No wonder Yoongi wears baggy shirts so often.

Looking up, you wait to see which one he’s gonna hold on pause is he not putting one on?

Yoongi only brushes past you to go to his nightstand, and your face and heart sear all the way through when he takes off his chains only to put on other ones.

So. He’s only gonna wear the—with those—

No. No.

How are you supposed to be normal!

Mouth floundering, you ruefully follow him back out into the kitchen, planting yourself near the sink as he goes to the fridge.

Fucking hell.

You literally just showered with him.

And yet, this look is the one that makes you ache.

But you push for a subject—any subject—trying your best to keep things neutral and not claw into his washed skin. “Is there anything you want?”

He gives you a look. “Huh?”

“That can be your late late birthday present,” you offer, hopefully without shakes in your words.

Frost billows out of his freezer when he grabs what looks like an ice pack.

Did he always have those on hand? You imagine so. Your brother certainly has his own back at the house.

How many times has Yoongi used his on himself?

“You don’t have to.”

“But I wanna? I like giving people things.”

He moves to cover the pack in a towel. When he walks toward you, he places a hand on the counter at your side, eyes full of intention.

“I got what I wanted,” he murmurs to your lips, and your breath does that pesky thing where it stops completely. “I’m good.”

As if he knew he just set you aflame, he reaches around and lightly presses the cold pack to your back.

You flinch at the contact, but Yoongi is capturing the majority of your attention, your fingers finding the hem of his soft pants with no issues. “Is there anything you need?”

He subtly shakes his head once before going to kiss your nose again. “Got that, too.”

“Okay, you need to quit before I run.”

Softly, his laughs fan against your cleansed skin, and you feel the pack shifting with his mirth. “What?”

“You know what. Player,” you pout, reaching around to smack the side of his bum. “Hmph.”

Yoongi’s face transforms immediately, and you almost let the thoroughly amused eyebrow cock affect you. Almost. “It’s like that?”

“Yeah, and?”

“Just unexpected,” he happily admits through a slant. Motioning to the living room, he provides choices, “There? Or bed?”

“Bed. I wanna hear your song again.”

Hisses greet you before words do. “Now you’re just fucking with me.”

“I’m serious! It sounds legit as fuck.”

“Go ahead then,” he says as you reach around to take the ice pack from him. “You want food, too? I’m gonna heat what’s left.”

“Yes, please.”

“K.”

Yoongi follows you into his room—another situation you feel hasn’t ever happened. Has it? Are you tripping?

Well, if it hasn’t, tonight is quite full of firsts.

While you sit on his bed, he bends to unlock his desktop, and you shamelessly admire his ass in those sweats and the goddamn swing of his chains.

Those will never, ever get old.

The song begins again, and he turns to regard you. “Just looped it. If you wanna pause, hit the spacebar.”

You nod, already wrapped up in the joy of hearing his creation again. His ice pack still holds securely against your bruise, permeating cold not the sole reason for your chills.

When he leaves to get the food heated, you stare at the monitor before aiming a smile of disbelief at the ground, music notes swirling around your head shakes.

Yoongi has no clue how incredible he is.

Or maybe he does, and he just doesn’t completely lean into the fact.

But you’re gonna remind him, over and over. Even if everything else stops.

Damn, is your arm already sore?

You slowly switch hands on the pack to alleviate the bend in your arm. More cold seeps into your other fingers, but you don’t mind, enveloped by his melodic voice coming from the speakers and muted sizzles coming from the kitchen.

This night has undoubtedly become one of your favorites. You aren’t on a balcony, but the flutter and pops in your stomach remain just as memorable. Just as comfortable.

Just as terrifying.

The track starts over, and now both of your arms are tired. You’d think they would be up to a simple task, but when you remember how they got exerted in the first place, you forgive them.

Lying sideways on his mattress, you simply leave the wrapped pack lying against your bruise, hoping it stays where it needs to.

It’s almost criminal how Yoongi’s still making you feel this way after all this time. Will this be the case a year from now? Will circumstances allow this magic to live on, even through another three hundred and sixty five days?

You don’t know.

But one night—this night—is already magical enough.

Your eyes snap to Yoongi as he fills his doorway, food in both hands and his body stilling.

What’s he pausing for?

At this, you giggle. “What?”

“You still icing it?”

“Yeah,” you affirm, patting your hip. “It’s back there.”

His stare lingers on your form before he goes to set a bowl down on his desk. When he turns, he kneels to give you yours. “If it’s not cold anymore, lemme know.”

“Oh, it’s still pretty fucking cold.”

Humming, he gets up to roll his chair to the side before sitting, grabbing his food and digging in.

And you do the same after you realize how hungry you actually are. When you ate earlier, it was half-assed and you truly don’t remember it so much.

Now? This is the best fucking dinner you’ve had in a minute.

No words are exchanged for a bit as you both eat, the song playing through and you starting to memorize the moving lines.

You hope he doesn’t actually think you’re joking when you praise him. Because you truly mean every word.

“How long did that take you?” you ask, eyes trained on the screen.

“Uhm.” Yoongi chews a bit before lowering his bowl in thought. “This one I worked on and off on. Maybe three months? Four?”

“That’s it?”

“Once I get something going the rest comes easy. It’s figuring out what I want that takes time.”

“Ah.” You take another bite. “I still can’t believe you showed me.”

“Said I would,” he reminds you before a huff and bounce of his leg. “It just had to be good first.”

“I’d listen to anything you have. Finished, unfinished, good, bad, whatever.”

“Never said I had bad shit.”

“There he is,” you scoff before the both of you breathe amusement through noses.

And a wave of tiredness washes over your bones, the kind that hits you out of nowhere and takes over quicker than you think. “Fuck, I’m tired. But I don’t wanna sleep…”

Yoongi hits the spacebar with a finger before rolling up in front of his computer.

And you yawn while he turns on what seems to be an old album. Oh, a good ass album, too. Is this one of his favorites? Eyes closed, you pocket it in the back of your mind for later.

Suddenly he’s taking your bowl, setting it down on his desk with a thud. “You gotta leave early.”

“But then I won’t see you.”

You hear more clinking of silverware and the roll of wheels before you blink vision back.

Only to see Yoongi right there, bent forward with elbows resting on his knees.

“You see me now.”

Fuck, you certainly do. If things were in your hands, you would definitely see him like this every damn night. “I know, but…” He watches while you mumble the rest of your words. “I wanna see you longer.”

He takes one of your hands in his, and you feel like you’d melt the whole ice pack with how hot you burn. “I’ll figure something out.”

“I can, too.”

His gaze flickers to yours.

“I figured tonight out, right?”

Yoongi’s lips curve upward, and he brings your hand up to press into them. “You did.”

“In exchange for my efforts, I’ll take this shirt,” you profess. “I wanna keep it.”

“Oh, now you have no issue telling me what you want, huh?” You laugh as he continues through a grin, “When it comes to my shit, we aren’t shy. Okay.”

“No!” You pull your arm away, his accuracy stinging your soul. “It’s just nice stuff!”

“Uh huh.”

You shift your legs, and the material rides up your thighs a tad, snagging Yoongi’s attention.

Yeah. Both of you have not once forgotten you aren’t wearing anything else.

But before you can taunt him, another yawn opens your jaw, and you hate how your body is snitching on your sleepy state.

Not like that will stop you completely. Head lolling, you ask,

“You know what else I want?”

Yoongi looks your way.

“Something I’ve been wanting for awhile…”

He clasps his hands together. “And what is that, doll.”

You stare at the jewelry dangling from his neck, not knowing whether to look at them, or his naked chest, or even his mussed hair or his pretty fingers fuck! Focus.

Through eyes lidded, you try your absolute hardest to get it out, because you truly need all of his silent, undivided attention,

“Show me your damn cat.”

Yoongi’s reaction is more than you ever wanted: eyes sparkling curves and teeth all shining as they block his laugh from expelling all the way out. “God,” he groans, raking his strands and pushing himself up to stand. “Fine.”

“Finally.”

You make your way out of the bed, clinging to Yoongi’s arms and yelling into his hisses when he jokingly pushes you back down. “Don’t you dare!”

But you realize too late that his plan was for you to hold on because he hoists you upward, straight into another kiss that makes you glad he’s got you secured.

It’s quick, but it still leaves you with stars in your eyes.

When he pulls away, you search his face—wondering what the hell has gotten into him and loving it so cautiously. Not because you’re scared, but because you feel like he’s finally being…

Himself.

And you can get used to this.

“You okay?”

Your first response is to grin. “Maybe too okay,” you admit, lowering your gaze to his lips. Fuck, his body feels incredible against yours and you already want a round two, but you really wanna witness whatever he’s been keeping at his door. “Now hurry up.”

Yoongi’s hum is light before he untangles, and you follow him past the kitchen and into the living room, not forgetting that you made this same path alone just hours earlier.

To think this night could’ve ended right then.

You don’t normally thank yourself, but maybe you should start. Because that person was brave as fuck for not walking out, and they deserve more than you can ever say.

When Yoongi gets to the door, his look breaks your thoughts. You smile a bit, which he seems to take as a cue, and your lip is bitten as he cracks the entrance open a tad to check outside.

Why is that enough to make you melt?

Your thoughts are dashed again by him opening the door a bit wider, and he motions for you to look at the ground next to the water bowl. “Right there,” he rumbles, prompting you to duck and peek out in front of him.

And right next to the unwelcome mat is a cat fully asleep, soft belly moving with its breathing and paws stretched out. She looks so peaceful just lying against the building—against Yoongi’s place over all the others.

You silently say that she picked a good one.

After a second, you straighten and regard Yoongi over your shoulder, wondering if he had been looking at you that entire time. “So tiny...”

“I know.”

Adorable. Both her and the man in fierce denial.

With a nod, you sneak another glance, feeling the late summer breeze that passes through. “If it gets cold, we can make her a house,” you point out, already assuming the little one is staying for the long haul. “Get her a real place to stay if you don’t want her inside.”

You start to step back inside and ramble on in thought, “Or! If those are too much, we can build a makeshift bed—if you’re willing to part with some of those shoe.. box.. es.”

What’s—

The door clicks shut before a palm presses into your cheek, and your eyes blink quick while you fall silent.

But your heart sings loud as soon as his lips press into yours, and you’ve more than lost count of the amount of kisses you’ve shared tonight. As you turn to jelly, you wonder if Yoongi’s even aware of how often he’s claimed your mouth, if he knows how many times he’s launched you amongst galaxies—further and further away with each pass.

Maybe he does. Because, like last time, you both don’t know when the next time will be. When the next kiss will fall, or when the next—

Your arms are fully around his neck before you know it, fingers messing his hair up even more than it was before.

His bare skin feels amazing on your arms, and you want to feel the rest of him on the rest of you, too. But he keeps kissing you and leading you somewhere that you—

Oh you’re spread across the couch now.

Oh he’s got your lips again holy hell you’ve never felt like this in your life. So engulfed. So wanted.

…So wanted.

“I want all of it.”

He wasn’t kidding. There were no lies. Your chest constricts as you remember what transpired right over there, on spotless kitchen tile that hasn’t seen the last of you. Because you’ll be back to see the man that wants all of this. Again, and again, and again.

“Baby.”

“Hmm.”

“Please.” You tug on his hair, the last traces of wetness coating your fingers. “I want...”

He presses his forehead against yours, not saying anything and letting you finish.

“Tell me what it’d be like. If you were really mine.”

“I am.”

Your heart flutters when you amend, “I meant, um. If we didn’t have to hide.”

Yoongi freezes before going to kiss your forehead. He’s silent for a bit, but you don’t mind. It’s how he chooses his words and, while you don’t know what to expect, you’ll deal with whatever he chooses to say.

“It’d be just like this.” He kisses your shoulder. “Except we’d be leaving now.”

“What? Why?”

“To go to the store,” he continues, placing light kisses on your neck that have you damn near purring. “Get whatever you want for that house.”

Oh.

He…

You’re almost on the verge of tears as he keeps peppering your skin with little touches, forging a path up your column, along your jaw, and stopping at your parted lips.

“Also, you’d end up taking all my shit.”

“Facts,” you confirm without shame, laughing into his kiss while he holds you down into his sofa. Your legs act on their own accord, sliding against his firm sides and curling around his sweats. “At least you already know.”

Yoongi holds you while traveling back down your jaw. When you sigh, he licks at your lobe, chuckling deep when you flinch at his movements.

You want him. Goddamn, you know you do. But for some reason, you still hold back when it comes to this part. It’s frustrating and annoying to hell, and you know it should be the easiest thing to just say what you want.

But it’s still hard.

“Babe?”

Fuck, you even zoned out again! Goddamn it.

When you snap your gaze up at his concern, your smile isn’t the happiest. “I dunno what’s wrong with me, but it’s… I can’t just say what I want, when it comes to this. No matter how many times you tell me to.”

He doesn’t push for more, eyes roaming your face before whispering, “Nothing wrong with that.”

“I just—I dunno.” You sigh, wondering why in the hell you decide now of all times is the time to air this out. “It’s annoying, you know? I wish I could just say those things. But I can’t.”

Now you’ve probably drenched the whole mood.

Damn it! Why did you have to go and say all of that? You could’ve just let things stay lighthearted and happen naturally and it would’ve been fi—

“I didn’t know.”

You focus back on him.

“That it bothered you.”

Oh.

Slowly, you nod, one of your hands coming up to play with his chains. “It really does.” Your fingers slide down the links, loving how he has different ones but all of them equally as lethal. “Trust me, I wanna tell you everything I want—like I did on the phone. But it doesn’t come out easily and it sucks.”

“I’m sorry, doll.”

“It’s okay,” you whisper. “Really, I just want you to know how much I want you.”

The look on Yoongi’s face almost breaks your expression. He looks utterly appalled. “You think I don’t know that?”

Pouting, you weakly bump his chest. “Slow down, sir.” When he huffs, you explain further, “No, but. I mean I wanna be like you. You always say what you want me to do, and it makes me feel… I dunno, really good.”

Your hand cups his cheek as you end with a sigh,

“I want you to feel that way, too.”

Yoongi leans into your fingers before shifting his face to kiss them. When you watch in silence, he murmurs,

“We got time.”

Butterflies spring forth.

“We’ll get you there.”

Appreciation mixes with the flurry of wings, and you tug him down for a grateful kiss of your own—the best way you know how to thank him.

He didn’t judge you, didn’t brush you off. All he did was listen, and it feels like a weight has been taken off your shoulders that you didn’t even know was there.

Oh, fuck.

You think you can actually say something now.

How is that even possible?

“Yoongi,” you whoosh out, giddy as hell. It’s right there and you don’t feel the need to keep it inside. “Wanna eat me out?”

Ah. It comes as a question instead.

But it’s a start.

“Fuck, I always do.” He squeezes you tight as he puts a little more of his weight on you. A much better burden indeed. “You want me to?”

“Yes,” you quickly whisper, not knowing what to do with the newfound energy in your body. “I do.”

“Then lie back, baby girl,” he rumbles to your lips, licking them with his tongue to show just what he’s about to destroy you with. “Open these pretty legs for me.”

You weren’t lying when you said you wanna be like him. Because with just those two commands, you’re already disintegrating on leather.

Yoongi’s always been good at that: telling you what he wants. Just like how he’s now saying he wants to hear you, and how you better tug on his shit if you want more.

But this bluntness doesn’t stop at his words.

No. It continues in his actions, in the way he yanks your body forward while he kneels next to the sofa, in the way he groans at how wet you already are. In the way he gives your thighs a kiss before pressing his lips on your core.

When you arch up with a whine, he tells you just like that. Tells you how pretty you sound when he eats you out and how he can listen to you losing control all fucking night.

All you can respond with is more moans, which is exactly his plan. With one of your legs slung over his shoulder and the other sprawled over his couch, he feasts on you like he’s never had you, or will never get this chance again.

Your chest can’t contain all the emotions fluttering about, want and desperation shooting your fingers into his hair and holding on for dear life. His grunts coax more from your center, and you know you’re already a sopping mess.

But neither of you care. Destruction is welcome when at the mercy of each others’ wants, and you want to think that this will certainly not be the last time you see yourself breaking on his furniture.

Fuck, you’re already close. His sucks, his licks, the way he kisses your clit before moving to plunge his tongue inside has you floating past every blinking star. Higher and higher, your moans reach the same height, and with one final tug to his hair you gush all over his menacing mouth.

You’re taken under, limbs snapping into hard angles and nails digging into his head and into his cushions. His name rips from your mouth when his tongue laps at your essence, coercing your cunt into unleashing a second wave that leaves you a shuddering mess when it ebbs away.

Fuck, you want more.

More, more… More.

More.

But your body disagrees with your mind, your eyes slipping shut and staying that way, no matter how much you want them not to. “Damn it…”

Yoongi’s lips are on yours before you even realize, and you lean into the sloppy kiss right as he pulls away. “What’s wrong?”

“I wanted… A lot more.”

“So greedy,” he chuckles into your nose. “You look passed the fuck out already.”

“Your fault.”

He doesn’t say anything, slowly helping you into a sitting position. “You got stuff to get ready?”

“Mmhmm.”

“K.” Your eyes are still closed, but you feel your hands getting held before you're pulled to stand. “Where?”

“Bag,” you answer, shaking your head to squint. “I got it.”

But he helps you anyway, teasing you all the way through your haphazard, sleepy as hell bedtime routine as he gets ready himself.

If you weren’t one slow blink away from rest, you’d wipe that smug look off of his face. But it gets to live another night.

Shortly after you’re done, everything comes to a close—albeit much too quick for your tastes.

But as the lights turn off, and the rest of the apartment sleeps, you find yourself lying in Yoongi’s arms. You don’t worry about what will happen come morning, or how you’re gonna work this all out. Because you have him now.

You’re home.

Peaceful as you’ve ever been, you nestle your head against his chest, breath soft when you finally drift to sleep.

Not even knowing what you’re about to admit.

“I want all of it, too.”

tbc. :)

how was ittt!! feel free to let me know 🥺🦋

A/N: SCREAMINGGG i promise yoongi and i don’t plan this shit ok. but real talk if this dropped yesterday as planned?? nah i would’ve gone into hiding and y’all would have never heard from me again lol but how did we feel!! how did we like flutter bc it’s :’))) one of my absolute fave parts now. not as eloquent and probably not my best work, but still a fave nonetheless! A/N 2: 3tanversary survey is still open to fill out! here is the link for it :D also, i made a separate blog just for 3tan if you wanna follow @threetangerines <3 it’s 3tan unfiltered and it’s already destroying me every day LOL ++ feedback box: ⇥ of course, any reblogs/comments/messages are appreciated! ⇥ for the ones that are too shy to reblog with a review, comment on this, or send a message, i went ahead and made another anonymous form where you can send in what you think! ⇥ no emails collected, no need to put in a username. it’s literally just a comment dropbox :D feedback can be as short/sweet or as long as you’d like! ⇥ here! ++ more links: ⇥ three tangerines masterlist ⇥ masterlist