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#bts min yoongi fic
pjiminbloomx · 2 years
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Under the table | myg
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banner by @jjkeverlast <3
✦ pairing min yoongi x female reader
✦ genre drama, dating!au
✦ word count 1.9K
✦ warnings smut, bad bitch reader, embarrassing situation, thrilling situation, moaning in front of parents, blowjob, yoongi…lol (also dear reader, if you happen to not have a gag reflex, just ignore it when you read it <;3)
✦ summary Yoongi and you have been dating for a few years. One thanksgiving, he has to leave you behind for a family dinner as you were sick and had to stay home. You seek sympathy but it’s to no avail, so you get your sweet revenge.
✦ inspiration for this story saw a clip years ago from what i believe originated from Skins, and it’s been imprinted in my mind since then. idk it kind of gave me yoongi vibes when I thought about it a few days ago. Also for all yoongi stans, I hope I wrote your bias good!!!
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“Do you really have to go?” You whined as Yoongi sat next to you on the bed, pulling on his shoes. 
“Y/N I’ve already answered that question a million times…” he responded with a hint of annoyance. 
“But your girlfriend is sick, you should stay home and take care of her…” you complained.
“uhm no.”
“what-” 
“Look babe, you need to stay home and relax while i’m gone. I already told my mom you were sick and couldn’t make it to the dinner. It’d be weird if you suddenly pulled up at their house, contradicting my words.”
“Then say you’re sick as well. Be sick with me, we are in love remember? Through thick and thin, you’re supposed to stay by my side.” 
“Gosh Y/N, you’re so fucking melodramatic. I don’t have the energy for this, I’m leaving.” 
“Wha- YOONGI!” You shouted as he grabbed his things and opened the front door. 
“Take a nap and some medicine, bye.” He grumbled, slamming the door after himself. 
“What’s up with him? He’s acting like he’s on his damn period,” you whispered angrily to yourself.
You threw your feet to dangle over the bed, hastily standing up. The quick motion made you dizzy and you sat yourself down at the corner of your bed for a short minute. 
After your vision cleared, you lazily walked to the kitchen to take some medicine. As you poured yourself a glass, you zoned out, reflecting back to Yoongi’s behaviour. The sudden feeling of cold water soaking your hand shook you out of your trance abruptly, making the glass slip from your hand. The glass crashed onto the white tiles, spraying water everywhere. 
After cleaning the mess, you took some pills and took a nap. About three hours later, you woke up, the dark night staring at you through your window. You felt a lot better, actually better than ever. Grabbing your phone, you texted Yoongi announcing the good news. 
❆Yoonie <3
<–  babe I feel so much better now. 
–> nice
<– when will u b home? 
–> idk
<– at least act like u care…
–> pass 
“THE AUDACITY!” You shouted in pure disbelief. 
You knew he cared but he was being so nonchalant. You scoffed as you tossed your phone on the bed. You laid down onto the soft bed, facing the ceiling, kicking your feet in frustration. Then you sat up, the perfect plan coming to you. A mischievous smile plastered onto your face… oh boy was he gonna pay. 
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Yoongi sat in awkward silence as the sound of cutlery scraping plates filled the room. He was in no doubt uncomfortable. As he sat around the large table, he couldn’t help but feel bad for speaking to his girlfriend the way he did. He felt sorry, not entirely, just a little. The picture of Y/N’s pouting face suddenly flashed in his mind, a little smile making it to his face. 
“YOONGI!” 
Yoongi flinched at the sound of his name. 
“What.” 
“Your mother has something to say,” said his father. 
Yoongi looked at his mother, he stared at her as he expected another “we don’t support you” talk. To his surprise, it was quite the opposite. 
“Yoongi, after a lot of thinking, we have come to make a decision. We have realised, much too late I’m afraid, that you have so much passion and talent for music. We have decided to support you in your decision.” Yoongi’s mother expressed, a comforting smile on her face. 
Yoongi hated to cry, especially in front of his family. But there he was, wiping his tears as he cried with his head facing downwards. He had always wanted his parent’s support no matter how many times he’s tried to convince others that he didn’t care. His sniffles filled the room, the jazz beats being the only thing stopping the situation from being as awkward as it could be. 
Yoongi’s father rose from his seat, hugging his son. He felt like he had failed as a father. But when you came to visit them secretly a few weeks before, you made them realise how much it hurt him and how he longed to make them proud. Yoongi’s parents decided to push their pride aside and felt it was time to accept the fact that Yoongi wasn’t ever going to change his mind. 
“I’m proud of you son, I really am.” His father praised, caressing Yoongi’s face.
“My god, enough crying! Let’s set up the bonfire!” said Yoongi’s mother while wiping her remaining tears. 
As the guests walked out into the kitchen, bathroom, backyard; Yoongi remained seated, in attempt to collect himself. 
He suddenly felt a presence and he widened his eyes at the sight of you standing by the door, dressed in only sweatpants and a tight white see-through crop top. You looked hot and Yoongi couldn’t help but trail his gaze up and down your body. 
“what are you doing here!” he whisper-shouted. 
“You were rude, so I’m here to give pay back.” You answered teasingly. 
“Y/N i don’t have time for your games, leave before my parents see you!” 
“no.”
Yoongi sighed with irritation. He panicked at the sound of the guests coming back. He looked back to see his mother smiling at him. 
“Gerard*, will call us when the fire is ready” she said. 
Yoongi looked back at where you stood before, only to see nothing. You had disappeared. Yoongi sighed in relief and smiled at his mother.
Yoongi listened to his family talk to each other, occasionally throwing in a comment and laughing along with a joke. Yoongi was relaxed and happy, though he suddenly felt hands unbuckling his belt. He flinched in surprise as the cold hands traced along his lower abdomen. Everyone turned to look at him, his sudden reaction had everyone confused. 
“Everything okay?” asked his mother. 
“Yeah mom, just feeling a little chilly.” He answered, trying to save his ass. 
“It’s 31 degrees C sweetheart,” his mother commented.
His mother gave it no further thought and everyone resumed to talking. Yoongi knew you were under the table, and he knew you had the upper hand. He was fucked. 
(*Gerard- their butler)
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You did your best to hold yourself back from laughing. You were so evil and you loved it. Luckily for you, the table was wide enough to sit comfortably and for you not to worry about touching someone else. It was also draped over so no one would be able to see you.
You waited for Yoongi to actually believe that you’d stop before you traced your fingers along his belt. Yoongi flinched, unintentionally clashing all the cutlery, the whole table’s attention turning to him. He this time managed to save his ass, and lifted his leg as to kick you.
He kicked you square in the face and you did your best not to squeal out of pain. Blood trickled down your lips and into your hands as you cupped your nose, gritting your teeth. You were so mad that you didn’t think straight. Your intention was just to joke around but now you were gonna suck the fuck out of that little shit. 
You took your hand out from under, tapping Yoongi. He must’ve seen the blood on your hand and he instantly gave you tissue paper. He apologises, his apology disguised in a cough. You snicker, at his lame attempt. 
Deciding to stuff little bits of paper into your bleeding nostril, you let out a controlled calm sigh. You checked around, as to make sure you weren’t too close to other people’s legs. After making yourself comfortable, you reach for Yoongi’s pants again, this time fully opening his belt and unzipping his pants. As you massaged his soft crotch, feeling him through his clothes, you felt his shaft stiffen under your grasp. Perfect. You had him right where you wanted him. 
Pulling his erection out of his pants, you gave it a light lick, watching Yoongi’s body language. Man-spreading and adjusting himself to make his cock more
accessible to you, you sank between his legs, lips parting around his cock, taking him into your mouth. Yoongi struggled not to moan. 
He squirmed in his seat, his lip between his teeth. 
“Yoongi, are you sure you’re okay?” asked his mother once again. 
He hummed yes, a hum that sounded more like a moan. Clearing his throat, he spoke up, reassuring her that he was alright. Your hand cupped his balls, massaging them as you took his cock in, it hitting the back of your throat. You kept going, his length sliding in and out of your mouth. 
Yoongi banged his fists on the table, making everyone jolt. Again… 
“I j-just wanted tO eXpreSs hoW hApPy I am…” *coughs* “I… errr… yeah thank you mom and dad…” He stupidly says. You tried your best not to laugh, I mean it wasn’t that hard considering his cock was resting in your mouth. 
Continuing to suck him off, you used your lips and hands. The squelching from your spit and the friction was quite audible but the jazz beats in the background and the crowded talking blurred it out. Focusing on the tip, you swirled your tongue receiving an earnest moan from the man. 
“Yoongi seriously! What is up with you?!” His mom asked irritated. 
This was your chance to really torture him. Shoving his girth so far down you could, you bobbed your head, occasionally sputtering. Tears welled up in your eyes as you tried not to gag. The length of his shaft was definitely something you still weren’t quite used to. 
“Ah fuck-” he cursed. 
“Excuse me?” His mom questioned, getting more and more irritated. 
“M-mom I, l-love you?” he blurted, not even thinking. 
His mom’s expression completely changed as she said that she loved him too. Yoongi’s breath quickened, he had to cover his mouth from moaning your name, no moaning in general. 
“Alright everyone, the fire is ready! Grab your marshmallows! Yoongi baby are you joining us?” his mother announced and then questioned. 
“I’ll be there sh-shortly!” he answered, beads of sweat covering his forehead and neck. 
You felt his cock twitch in your mouth, you fucked your cheek onto his tip until he spilled himself into your mouth. Swallowing it all up, he pulled his chair back, lifting the drape. 
“what the fuck-” Yoongi began but halted. 
He was cut off by the sight in front of him, your hair was messy as a mix of saliva and cum ran down your chin. He sighed as he pulled his dick in his pants, “fucking hell Y/N.” 
“That should teach you not to mess with me Min Yoongi.” you stated teasingly but firmly. 
“Alright I’m sorry for this morning, I was grumpy because I had to go, alone at that. Sorry for the nose bleed as well.”
“It’s okay baby, just tell me next time, yes?” 
Yoongi nodded, giving you a long lasting peck on the lips. 
“My parents finally support my decision…”
Your heart skipped a beat. What you’d told them, was taken seriously. Though Yoongi didn’t need to know. This was his happiness. 
“aww baby I’m so happy for you,” you say as you step out from under the table, giving him a hug. 
“Y/N, no matter how hot this was or how hard I came, please don’t do this again.” You laughed at his comment but nodded. 
“YOONGI ARE YOU COMING?!” the loud voice boomed from the yard. 
“Oh well I gotta go, see u at home.I love you.” Yoongi said kissing you. You headed towards the door, getting ready to leave.
 “I love you too. Though I’ll be waiting for you…..naked.” 
“Intriguing. Can’t wait.” You chuckle.
“ohh you dirty boy.”
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© all rights reserved pjiminbloomx
reposted <3
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wildestdreamsblog · 3 months
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Might as well be drunk in love: 1 of 2
Pairing: OT7 x Reader (CEO AU)
Summary: In which your friend thought it would be funny to give you a love potion, and in which seven CEOs accidentally drank it.
Warnings: Love Potion, Yandere behavior, Obsessiveness, Possessiveness, Manipulative behavior, Violence, Mention of death, Disability, If you’re not 18+ please, PLEASE, do not interact. Be mindful of the warnings. Let me know if I miss anything.
A/N: This idea came to me when I went to the mountain and saw a love potion wine thingy being sold there. I think it's just the name of the wine, anyway! I really, really tried so hard to finish this in one post but it's already almost 8kish and we aren't even near the end sksks Happy New Year, my loves! I hope you'll like my gift for you <3
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“Am I that hopeless?”
“What?” your friend asked in faux innocence, blinking her eyes owlishly at you. “I don’t know what you’re getting at, sweetie-“
You glared at her as you pointed in an exaggerated manner at the expensive pink tumbler she handed you mere seconds ago. The tumbler was too fancy, something that you wouldn’t buy for yourself and something that a certain handsome but infuriating CEO of yours was fond of carrying around.
However, what was insulting was the content of the said tumbler.
“I just gifted you that because you mentioned that it was beautiful-“
“Do you really think I’d end up alone?!”
“I don’t understand-“
“You literally just said that you put the love potion you bought in the mountains here!” you hissed lowly, keeping your eyes around the conference room as your department waited for the seven CEOs to arrive. You attempted to smile which more or less came out as a grimace at one of your colleagues who looked at you weirdly because of your mini-outburst. You weren’t exactly meek in nature, nor were you shy. However, you weren’t really keen on letting anyone overhear that your close friend bought you a love potion just because she thought you would end up alone.
That was embarrassing, even for you. So nope, you would for sure keep this under wraps.
Her brows furrowed harmlessly, although you could see a hint of smile on her lips, “You’re welcome?”
“I’m not thanking you-“
Just then, all the seven CEOs walked in the conference room, their presence commanding and silence reigned through the whole room. The first to enter was Min Yoongi. He was strolling in the room with his hands in his pocket. He was said to be the ace of the group who could smell bullshit despite it being miles away. He honestly looked like he would rather be anywhere else than here right now, though. It was the complete opposite of Jung Hoseok, also known as the sunshine of the group. He was smiling widely as he greeted the department and some employees by their names, yet you weren’t fooled by his beautiful smile. He was the strictest of them all. He was perfectionist down to the core and he was the last to forgive any mistake. The last of the hyung line to enter was the Kim Seokjin, the most beautiful man you have ever seen. It was like the room literally lightened up when he stepped in, like the birds sang melodically the moment he opened his eyes. His tall form and his movement were precise as he confidently sauntered to his seat which just so happened to be beside yours. He placed his pink tumbler on the table, so eerily similar to yours sans the engraved of his name on his tumbler. The beautiful asshole didn’t even spare you a glance. Your back unconsciously straightened when the lead CEO, Kim Namjoon, locked eyes with you for a moment when he entered the room.  He was said to be one of the most intelligent man in the whole country. You didn’t even doubt it one bit. He was capable, and his leadership was on another level. Should he decide to run for a political seat, you would undoubtedly vote for him. He had what it took, you thought. He was charismatic, calm and he knew when to listen.
The CEOs were dubbed by the employees to be divided by two: the Maknae and the Hyung line.
Finally, the maknae line entered. The three of them could always be found together. Park Jimin, the eldest of the line, who had one of the most beautiful smiles you ever saw. In fact, you once overheard your colleague that he interacted with her once and it left her thinking of what they really were. He was followed by Kim Taehyung and also labelled as his soulmate. He was expressionless as he entered, only cracking a smile when he turned to Jimin. You always thought that he could be a model or an actor if he wanted to. He definitely had the looks for it. Last to enter was the muscular Jeon Jungkook, also known as the golden maknae of the group. There were no contracts, mergers or acquisitions that he couldn’t convince the other party of signing. Not only was he capable of everything, but he excelled in everything. Thus, his nickname. However, despite the way he held himself during the negotiations, you observed him to be shy and highly reserved. All of a sudden, he looked up from his seat as though he could feel your eyes on him, his doe eyes curious as he took you in. He held your eyes for a moment until he blinked owlishly and looked down at his hands in curiosity.
Kim Namjoon sat in the middle, the others sitting beside him as they regarded the room with a powerful look.
 “Shall we begin?” Kim Seokjin asked, his eyes focused on the slides reflecting in the projector. 
Several headaches, passive aggressiveness from Namjoon, Hoseok and Jimin, disappointed sighs from Jin and Yoongi, difficult revisions ‘suggested’ by Taehyung, and corrections of miniscule errors of calculations by Jungkook later, the meeting finally ended.
You were weary as you trudged out of the conference room the CEOs were still in. They dismissed the department, expecting revisions within the day after tomorrow before discussing among themselves. It was honestly not a lot of time and you could already feel the lack of sleep you and the department would further experience under their tyranny. You willed yourself not to fall asleep as you walked to your desk, your close friend who was equally tired as you sat down on her seat beside your desk.
“I’m so tired. It’s like my soul and all the happiness I was able to experience in my young life were sucked out of me,” she lamented, her head resting on her desk. “If only the pay isn’t so greaaaat. ”
You nodded at what she said, already likening the CEOs to dementors in Harry Potter. Interacting with them made you aged several years. Additionally, meetings with them made you reconsider whether you needed a roof over your head, whether you needed to eat at least twice a day, whether you needed to drink clean water-
Speaking of…this wasn’t your tumbler. 
The horrifying realization made you stood up abruptly. You lifted the pink tumbler to your widening eyes, and by that name there was no denying that this wasn’t yours. Your sudden movement awoke your friend from her own misery, yet you didn’t have the time to explain. Without any further thought, you ran back to the conference room, screaming and crying about how you were definitely going to get fired.
Of course, the elevator was under maintenance.
Of course, you had to run numerous flights of stairs.
Of course, it was just your luck that you ran into your manager just when you reached their floor.
And of course, the moment you opened the door, there they were, innocently drinking from a glass, the tumbler emptied as it sat in the middle of the table.
“Don’t drink that!”
Taehyung was the first to turn to you, his dark expressionless eyes meeting yours with intense stubbornness. He kept his eyes on yours as gulped the contents wholeheartedly.
Oh heavens, no.
He put the glass down with a resounding thud which felt like a nail to your coffin. You turned to look at the other CEOs with shaky eyes and it was apparent that they definitely drank their fair share of whatever was in the tumbler. You, on the other hand, weren’t sure if it was really safe for consumption. You were going to kill your friend for her prank!
Their eyes were focused on you. You couldn’t even blame them. You shouted at them all while looking like a lunatic with your disheveled hair and huffing breaths like you did a marathon. Oh wait, yes you probably did by the amount of running you did today. They were probably thinking that you were mentally unfit for this job and oh my God you were going to lose your job.
“May we help you, Ms. Y/N?” Hoseok asked you politely, his eyes never wavering from yours which was…unusual. Despite him being the image of kindness and approachability, he never looked at his employees for longer than necessary. He was a man that possessed such discipline when it came to his time. This… was absolutely an unnecessary length of time for eye contact.
“T-that’s my drink,” you finally said after tearing your eyes from Hoseok’s. You pointedly looked at the empty pink tumbler, not minding the intense look Namjoon was giving you.
“We apologize, little one,” Namjoon broke the silence, his deep voice awakening you from your stupor. “Yours looked like hyung’s.”
Little one???
 Jimin smirked before running his hand through his blonde locks. His eyes were on yours as he looked up at you. “Yours undeniably taste better, though.”
Before you could even blink, Yoongi pointed at you with a rare smile on his lips. “You looked thirsty. Would you like to go to my office and drink with me?”
Was that…an invitation?!
You felt a hand tugged your sleeve. You turned, only to find beautiful doe eyes looking up at you from his seated form. “Hi! What year were you born?”
“199x-,“ you answered absentmindedly, you eyes roaming around the room when he tugged your sleeve again for your attention.
“You’re older than me!” he gasped; his excitement palpable as he stood up. He towered over you, his grin pleasant and you thought at that moment that he looked a lot like a bunny, or a kangaroo with the way his chest muscles were bulging over his office clothes. “Then you’re my noona! I can call you ‘noona’, right? Come on, take a seat here!”
He pulled the chair closer and tapped on it eagerly.
This was wrong, you thought. Was that thing really effective?! You dreaded to think that it was and you had a certain someone to torture once you get out of this room.
You were shaking your head before he could even pull you and you watched as his expression fell. Suddenly, he looked like a child that lost his toy with the way he was pouting. And nope, you couldn’t deal with that today. You looked at the man who hadn’t spoken one bit before smiling sheepishly at him. You placed his pink tumbler in front of him.
“I apologize. I must have switched yours with mine-“
His jaw tightened as he leaned in. Heavens, he was even more handsome this close. Kim Seokjin looked up at you with his ethereal eyes before resting his chin on his hand. “I’ve been drinking yours since the meeting, my love. It’s absolutely not your fault. Mine was coffee. This-“ he lifted the empty tumbler, “-is, I presume, a juice.”
Confusion further painted on your face, “You knew? Then why did you keep on drinking-“
He shrugged his broad shoulders, “It’s…addicting.”
“O-okay, then I’ll just leave yours here-“
“Tell me, my love. Do you like your job?”
Welp, here it was. You were so going to get fired. Oh my God, how were you going to feed your cat? He had such an expensive taste!
“I-“
“Because there’s an opening in my office. Would you like to be my secretary-“
“But hyung, you already have one-“
“Shut up, Taehyung,” he hissed at the now pouting man before turning to smile at you as though he didn’t berate his co-CEO in front of you. Chaos ensued as the boys fought and bickered for who would be your direct boss as you inched closer to the door.
“I’m just gonna go,” you whispered and before you could even reach the door, Taehyung looked up at you with his sharp eyes.
“Where are you going!”
“I-I have to finish the report this week, right?”
Namjoon stood up before declaring that he would finish it for you. And when you shook your head, “I am officially moving the deadline to next month! No need to stress, my little love!”
You blinked owlishly before doing what was best for you and your sanity- you ran away.
“So, they drank it?”
“Are you even listening to me?!” you shrieked over the phone, walking back in forth in front of your cat that was now looking at you as though he wanted to be adopted by a sane person and not you. “I just told you. They all drank it. All seven of them!”
You could hear the laughter in her voice which was not helping your panic, “I thought you didn’t believe love potions?”
“I-I didn’t! You didn’t see how they were acting! It was so peculiar!”
“Well, honey, how did they act?”
“Kindly! And it’s so weird!”
She paused, her silence making your heart beat faster. “Holy shit. It’s definitely effective. I need to go back there and buy another one for myself-“
“Focus! Is there an antidote or anything?”
“I’m not sure. I’ll have to ask my grandmother that lives there. I’ll let you know, but for the meantime, hold on very tight, okay?”
“What do you mean?!”
“Uhm. She said it’s very potent? I thought she was kidding. We’ll observe them tomorrow, okay? I’ll fix this.“
You were only able to sleep for two hours last night for two reasons: your work that you accomplished at eleven in the evening, leaving you six ample hours to sleep, and second, them.
Your phone didn’t stop ringing last night. You didn’t know how they obtained your number, and you dreaded to think that they used their position to direct the Human Resources department to give your personal number (yup, they definitely did).
You were about to fall asleep when your phone wouldn’t stop, and when you opened your eyes, you wished to all that was holy that you threw away the tumbler as soon as she handed it to you. Or that you didn’t choose the sit next to Seokjin.
You wished to God that your phone wasn’t blowing up now, but it certainly was.
Kookie: Hi, noona! Welcome to the Bangtan groupchat!
You squinted your eyes as the glaring screen illuminated with several messages from them.
Jwehope: Darling, are you a sprite? Because you've got the right amount of fizz to make my heart pop!
Jiminie: That’s so corny. I, for one, think that little one is a magician.
Jiminie: Because everytime I look at her, everyone just disappears.
V: Do you want to disappear, Jimin? Because I can arrange that.
Joonie: Ms. Y/N-shi, do you have a moment? I asked because I would like to discuss something.
At that, your trepidation grew. Among five, the lead CEO definitely held a serious tone. Did they find it as weird as you did that they were paying you attention? Did they trace it to that drink? Were you now in an even bigger mess than you initially thought?
You replied tensely: Yes, I am available, Kim Daepyonim.
WWH Jin: Why are you still awake? Beauty sleep is essential, my love!
Joonie: Great! I’d like to discuss the exponential growth of my feelings for you.
What.
The.
Fuck.
Suga: You’re all so hopeless. My Y/N would never fall for that.
Suga: On the other hand, would you like some Samsung stocks?
And that was why you never got to sleep peacefully last night. You sighed as you got on the bus. You opted to leave at an earlier hour because you wanted some time to think without the noise of the world and the buzzling movement of people commuting. You could feel a headache coming, but you prayed that it wouldn’t come through.
You should have known your prayers were seldom heard.
A vacant seat on the backside of the bus greeted you, and you were only too elated to finally sit throughout your commute. Peace, finally, you thought. You had barely settled in, barely breathed a sigh of relief when the once empty chair beside you was filled in by none other than him
“Fancy running to you here!” Taehyung noted in a deep voice as though this was not part of his plan, as though he didn’t wake up at a godforsaken hour just to ‘run’ to you.
You blinked, astonished by his presence. This was the last place you expected him to be. Hell, you didn’t even sure he ever experienced riding a bus! What the fuck was he doing here? Where was now your peace?!
“You-You’re here…” you trailed off, your eyes widening in shock as your brows furrowed in disbelief. You had foolishly thought that maybe, once they slept it off, then it would slowly be flushed out of their system. Oh, how wrong could you be. “Why?”
Taehyung smirked at you, his dark eyes taking you in. His dark hair was gelled up, his suit impeccable and without any crease in sight. He was somehow manspreading and you weren’t stoic enough not to notice the way his thick thigh was touching the side of yours. “I wanted to see you.”
“You’re so…honest.”
He didn’t even look embarrassed by his honesty. It didn’t displace him; what did was the annoying pain in his heart as the hours passed by and you weren’t in his arms nor his sight. He hated it. It felt wrong!
The other boys weren’t fairing any better but oh well, to each of his own. He may or may have also drained their cars of gas so they couldn’t leave. He thought that no one needed you as much as he did.
“I surmised that you wouldn’t believe if I say I frequent this path just for the hell of it, correct?”
You nodded dumbfoundedly as speech eluded you. His candor was definitely out of this world, and he seemed to not care as he only stared right at you.
“Now,” he whispered before tucking your hair behind your ear. “Now I feel at peace. The annoying pain finally stops.”
What pain?!
Before you could even ask him to elaborate, his head leaned on your shoulder.
“Daepyonim Kim-“
“Just stay like this for a while. I didn’t get to sleep, my love,” he answered in his hoarse voice, his eyes already closed as he dozed off. You didn’t know why you let him. It absolutely was not due to the fact that you felt your heart skipped a beat when he laid his head on your shoulder. Nope.
You managed to run away from Taehyung once the two of you arrived at the company, simply by practicing your non-existent ninja moves and awkwardly slipping out of the elevator just as the doors closed, his face an image of betrayal and panic. You breathed a sigh of relief before running out of the building. You still had an hour before you were needed, you for sure wouldn’t spend it inside that establishment or you would end up crying.
You were focused on your phone as you read real life stories of love potions. The sharing of stories kept on increasingly became more serious and scarier. You had yet to find a post about antidote. You weren’t 100% set on it being real, but the way Taehyung acted today was not right.
For heaven’s sake, the man barely said any word to you for the whole year you worked in their company. He had only looked at you before, and now he was outright going to you. But maybe, the other CEOs weren’t affected?
It was a hopeful thought, and you felt yourself smile a little- which of course vanished just as quickly when you looked up from your seat in the coffee shop to see Park Jimin sitting in front of you. You didn’t even know how he moved so smoothly and quietly. He was smiling at you, his head tilted to the side. His blonde hair stood out as the sunlight hit his hair perfectly.
“Good morning, beautiful!”
“Daepyonim Park,” you gasped both at shock and well, his beauty. His smile turned wider before he tried to hide it as he sipped from his coffee cup.
“Just Jimin, little one. I presume Taehyung- the bastard who will soon be six feet underground for what he did, by the way- already went to see you?”
You nodded, “He did…”
He scrunched his nose before resting his chin on his hand as he leaned into you. His pouty lips were protruding even more as he looked over his long lashes to you. My God, this man was so charming and his movements seemed so sensual. You didn’t know what it was about him, but you finally, finally understood your coworker who had a major crush on him for years based on one interaction.
“He’s so bad, my love. Did he tell you that he drained all our cars’ gas tank at two in the morning?” he asked in a conversational manner as though it didn’t faze him. His other hand reached to yours, slowly entangling them together and giggling a little at the slight size difference. He found them perfect and cute.
God, you were so endearing, he thought to himself.
“He did what?!”
He nodded slightly, holding your hand up to inspect further before quietly taking a picture of your clasped hands. You were so out of it that you just let it be.
“What Taehyung failed to account for was the existence of taxis. He only managed to anger six men, so good luck to him today. But enough about him,” he stated before looking into your eyes. Being the sole focus of Jimin was just too much, you thought. He was bigger than life, and his inherent appeal was palpable that even girls around the coffee shop kept on stealing glances on him. “I miss you so much today that my heart and head hurt so much, yeobo. I thought that I was going to die if I don’t see you.”
Your brows furrowed in concern before pulling your hand from him and you could have sworn you heard him whimpered. You laid the back of your hand on his forehead, trying to see whether he had fever today. He felt fine, you concluded, as you looked closer to see if he looked sick.
Maybe the ‘love potion’ caused these symptoms? Taehyung did mention experiencing pain.
You managed to escape from Park Jimin when he insisted on buying you pastries, and you in turn ran to the exit like your life depended on it. And perhaps, it did because you were running late. You only had fifteen minutes and the coffee shop you went to was not fifteen-minute away from the office. You were running like a lunatic, waving at the taxi that finally took pity on you. You were about to open the door when a large and tattooed hand slammed it shut.
You looked up in anger, ready to berate the man who did such a rude gesture when you recognized who it was.
Right then and there, and despite it being barely eight in the morning, you already met the entirety of maknae line. Jeon Jungkook looked like a badass with his all-black getup, his hands wrapped in motorcycle gloves, and his hair carelessly falling around his face. Despite all that, he looked innocent with the way he grinned at you, his nose all scrunched up when he greeted you.
“I’ll give you a ride, noona. Come on,” he stated as he gestured at the black motorcycle haphazardly parked on the side. You had never ridden one, and you didn’t want to start now. On the other hand, the taxi was already driving away and you could only look at it with longing.
You decided that you could afford being late just this once instead of riding with him. You were shaking your head.
“But you’re going to be late. I’m going there, too, so it’s no bother if that’s what you’re thinking-“
“No it’s just… I like to walk during the mornings…really.”
He frowned at you as he removed his gloves, “Didn’t you read the memo about tardiness, Y/N?”
“What memo?”
He was typing rapidly on his phone, “About how there would be 50% deduction of the salary should there be any tardiness this month…didn’t you know?” he asked innocently as he finished typing, his doe eyes trained on yours. Coincidentally, the moment he pocketed his phone was the moment your phone dinged.
“I don’t think that’s legal, though. I haven’t received the memo-“
You looked down at your phone, and there it was, an email about that. How could it only reach you now?!
You looked up in panic, and he looked at you with a hint of satisfaction before covering it with an innocent smile. “Shall we? I promise I don’t bite.” Yet.
He drove like a lunatic and you thought that you would really rather be late than experience a thrill such as this. Of course, it was only natural that you didn’t want to put your arms around him. You technically didn’t know him at a personal level and Jungkook did know that.
So, of course, like the intelligent man that he was, he only did the thing that made sense. He sped up, and he chuckled as your adorable screams reached his ears. Your equally lovely arms were now wrapped around him as they should always be and for once since yesterday, the ache in his heart eased. He felt at peace.
He giggled when you finally realized that this was not the path to the office, but in his mind, his other hyungs already got to spend time with you. Shouldn’t he too?
Jungkook helped you get off his bike, his eyes closely watching your expressions as you took the scenery around you. It was quiet despite the busy world below. The overlooking garden he brought you to was enchanting and it remained untouched by the quick-pacing world below. Jungkook couldn’t help but mirror your smile.
“It’s even more beautiful at night, noona. I come here when things get quite overwhelming.”
You turned to him as the two of you sat down. He had laid his leather jacket for you to sat on, a true gentleman you would think if only you weren’t aware that he drank the potion. “The golden maknae gets overwhelmed, too?”
He scrunched his nose at you before softly pinching your nose, “Of course, I do. I’m only human. I was trained when I was only thirteen…it gets too much sometimes. But it’s okay. I like it, and I like the hyungs, too. That’s why I cannot get mad at Tae.”
“He didn’t just empty the gas tank, but he also hid the keys. For added measure, he deflated my tire. He only did that to me. Should I be mad, little one?” he asked with the perpetual charming and shy smile on his face. “Ahh, but I cannot stay mad at him. I do understand him.”
“You do?”
He nodded eagerly, “I would have done the same thing if only he didn’t do it first. You do make us crazy, little one. Why is that?”
It was an eventful morning, and you weren’t foolish enough to think that the rest of your day would be any different. You friend was still yet to be found as she was preoccupied with researching for further information about that potion, which she should have done before giving it to you!
You sighed for the million time as you stared at your food. You were sitting alone in the company’s cafeteria as you were eating your late lunch. The workload was just too much today despite Kim Namjoon’s departmentwide directive that the revision would be presented the following month. Your superiors did find it peculiar and thought that the head CEO was simply playing with them and that he would cruelly demand the output the next day. See, even his reputation preceded him, you thought. It wasn’t in his nature to be lenient when it came to deadlines.
The sudden gentle thud of food a lunch box made you jumped from your seat, your eyes widening as you saw that it was none other than the eldest of the CEOs, Kim Seokjin. Disbelief held you captive. It was an unexpected sight – the CEO, whose tailored suits and polished demeanor spoke of boardroom authority, now standing before you with a container of something that smelled absolutely delicious.
He smiled at you as he took the empty seat in front of you. He busied himself with laying and opening the numerous food containers in front of you. Your eyes widened at all the homecooked meals in front of you.
“I got up at four in the morning to prepare all these. I still don’t know what your favorites are, but we’ll figure it out as we go, right?” he asked, busying himself with putting food on your plate. “Always eat on time, little one. It’s bad to skip meals.”
“W-why did you cook all these?”
He blinked owlishly at your question; surprise written on his face. “Well, my love, I couldn’t sleep and I felt this stabbing pain by the mere thought that you weren’t eating enough.”
“You don’t have to do that-“
“So from now on, I decided that I’ll always cook for you,” he declared strongly before lifting his chopsticks with vegetables to your mouth. Suddenly, you felt eyes on you.
How could you forget that you were in the company?! Your head turned, looking at the employees who were all watching your interaction with the unobtainable CEO. They were whispering and you knew by the end of the hour, everyone in the company would know of this. How could you live once they had the antidote? You could already hear the rumors about how you were just for their entertainment once they tossed you aside.
You were about to stand up when Seokjin gently gripped your chin. He turned you to him, his beautiful eyes willing you to listen to him. “Don’t mind them, little love. Pay attention to me only. Nothing and no one matter outside us, okay?”
It wasn’t okay because none of this was real. On the other hand, the meal tasted heavenly…
---
If they weren’t going to get sick, you definitely would. You felt like you would collapse any moment.
The amount of stress was taking a toll on you. You felt like you needed to be on your guard, lest another CEO would ambush you. You were just human! And they all looked like they stepped out of a photoshoot, or that they were ethereal beings that decided to go down on the mortal realms. The way they were showering you with attention and declaring their attraction to you and the way they said that not being with you felt like a stabbing pain in their hearts were all getting to you, damn it!
You were just a girl.
And once this all ended, you were dreading to think of what would be left of you now that you saw them on a closer and more personal level. You wanted to think that this couldn’t get any worse, but it did as you read the most elusive of the CEOs’ email to you.
Hi, my little one,
I hope this email finds you well. I am writing to request your presence at a meeting in my office to discuss my growing feelings for you today at 2:00 pm. Your insights and expertise on this matter would be highly valuable to the discussion, and I believe your input will contribute significantly to our objectives of being together forever and ever.
Thank you in advance for your cooperation, and I look forward to our discussion.
Best regards,
CEO Min Yoongi
He had this faraway look on his face when you were led by his secretary in his office. His hands were in his pocket as he looked at the bustling city from his floor to ceiling window. His black long hair was sleeked back, revealing his stoic face. The dark suit he was wearing did nothing but compliment his form. You had never noticed how broad his shoulders were until now.
He looked like he was not paying attention, yet he turned around the moment that the door closed behind you. Min Yoongi looked at you for a moment too long that you started to shift uncomfortably. His attention was just too much, and you couldn’t act like you were no longer affected by any of it.
And from the looks of it, the moment you blushed was the exact moment his face softened. He gestured for you to take the seat in front of his desk. He mirrored your movement, now sitting on his expensive swivel chair. He clasped his hands and rested them on the mahogany table.
“Daepyonim Min-“
He held his finger up, asking for your silence before spilling what you thought to be both outrageous and the most beautiful and heartfelt thing anyone had ever said to you in this life. “You’re beautiful, and not just in the way that you look. No. You’re beautiful in the way that the sun finally shines after a month of storms; you’re beautiful in the way that the waves keep on going back to the shore even after they were pushed away in the desire to kiss the sand; you’re beautiful in the way that flowers bloom after the unforgiving winter coldness. And that is why I’m giving you Samsung stocks.”
Confusion settled over you like a fog. You had almost melted from what felt like a poetry when he once again brought up his stocks idea from last night.
“I-I really don’t need Samsung stocks, Daepyonim Min…”
He looked aghast at your statement, before reaching over the table and holding your hand in his particularly large ones. “Call me Yoongi, my love. Or better yet, call me your other half,” he implored you and he only let go when you nodded in confusion.
“Also, nonsense! Everyone needs that stock, little one. Besides, nothing speaks more about my love for you than giving you all my Samsung stocks. And above and beyond, it filled me with this immense pain knowing that you’re just out there not owning any of their stocks. I couldn’t breathe with the mere thought of you going without.”
“Excuse me?”
And with a stoic face, he said, “Congratulations, little one. You’re now a millionaire."
At six in the evening, the head CEO finally made an appearance. You did find it peculiar that you had a fairly quiet afternoon after meeting with Yoongi. Your brows were pinched together as you were lost in thought when the elevator opened, revealing the head CEO. He had yet to notice you, his large and imposing form leaning against the side of the elevator. His eyes were close. You noticed that his white sleeves were already folded, his tie already loosened as his black suit laid on his thick forearms.
Kim Namjoon was the image of weariness, and you thought he looked quite pale. Your growing concern for him was what made you stepped inside the lift rather than running away yet again. The sound of your heels as you stepped in was the only sound in the elevator. You pressed for the ground floor and you saw that the floor for basement three was already pressed. Perhaps, the head CEO was going home now. Now that you were standing almost next to him, you only further affirmed how small you were next to him. He was already larger than life, and the way he always held himself exuded confidence made him more striking…and manly in your eyes.
The ride was fairly quiet, and through it all, he had his eyes closed. You kept on stealing glances, thinking that maybe among the other CEOs, he took in the least amount of potion. You felt lighter with that thought. At least you only had five men you needed to find the antidote for. Come to think of it, you hadn’t seen the sunshine of the group, Jung Hoseok yet.
The elevator dinged, signifying your floor. You had taken merely a step when you felt a large hand completely encircling your wrist, effectively stopping you from leaving. You automatically turned, startled to find him with his eyes trained on you. He looked way too alert for someone who had his eyes closed for the past minute. You gasped when he pulled you closer to him as he pressed the close button.
“Daepyonim Kim,” you called him as you craned your neck to look at his draconic eyes.
“Leaving so soon?" he asked, his deep voice carrying a subtle mix of amusement and curiosity.
You hesitated, the words tumbling out of your mouth as he caught you off guard. “I... uh, yes. I was heading to the lobby. I’m about to leave for the night," you stammered, attempting to regain composure.
A playful smile curved his lips as he completely blocked the exit. leaned against the elevator frame, effectively blocking your exit, which sounded successful as the door closed. “I missed you,” he breathed as he took you in, his thumb gently running over the inside of your wrist as though touching you brought him immense comfort. “A lot. It was hell without seeing you the whole day.”
You blinked owlishly and you wanted nothing but to hide your face from the intensity of his gaze, but he wouldn’t let you. Instead, he smiled so gently at you, the dents on his cheeks making an appearance which made him more charismatic that you couldn’t say no when he told you that he would take you home.
But he didn’t exactly say which home because you ended up in what turned out to be the CEOs’ huge ass mansion. Your eyes roamed around the mansion, the high ceilings and the fancy marble flooring all screamed wealth that you didn’t even dare of dreaming to have. He confidently led you to what appeared to be a grand dining room. The room bathed in the soft, flickering glow of candlelight, casting a warm and intimate ambiance. The delicate flames danced gracefully, creating patterns of light and shadow that played across the table. The air carried the subtle fragrance of the candles, a mix of vanilla and subtle hints of lavender.
The dining table was adorned with crisp, white linen, and the flickering candles were nestled in elegant holders, their glow reflecting off polished silverware and crystal glasses. Each flame seemed to dance in harmony with the gentle melody playing in the background, creating a soothing symphony that enveloped the space.
He pulled a chair for you, and instead of sitting across from you, he sat beside you. He chuckled lowly when he caught your questioning eyes, “I have been apart from you for so long today, little one. I need this to feel alive.”
You straightened up in vigilance that the other CEOs would show up. “Are the others here, too?”
He looked at you like you said something funny. The chef he hired today gently laid all the dishes he made, explaining about each dish before wishing the two of you an enjoyable night. Namjoon told you that he wouldn’t feed you any of the food he made unless he enrolled himself in a culinary school first, hence the chef. He waited for the chef to leave before turning his full attention to you.
“I shipped them off to Antartica.”
“You what?!”
“I simply said we were flying to Japan for a quick meeting. They believed. I lied. End of. So anyway, how many children do you think we should have?”
My God, you wanted so bad to lay on your bed and sleep the whole night. You though about filing for sick leave tomorrow, you were long overdue for a leave, anyway. Kim Namjoon was kind enough to drop you off. However, it was only after you promised him that you would talk about possible schools for your future children that he let you go.
On the other hand, your friend finally called and you were sorely disappointed to know more about what she gathered today. Her grandmother had to ask the other folks that lived in the mountain about your situation and it somehow appalled you that you weren’t the first to experience this.
It was, at the same time, sad to see people resort to this from loneliness.
Was an artificial, forced love and companionship better than being alone?
There were both an instant and quite a long-term effect of the potion, she said. The instant was mostly upon ingesting the liquid. Once they locked eyes with the owner of the potion which so happened to be you since she technically gifted it to you, then the immense attraction would start. You thought that this explained why the seven of them all acted that way in the conference room.
The long-term effects were what caused you to groan all the way up to your apartment. And right then and there, you saw what the long-term effects were. As you trudged up to your apartment, you felt the exhaustion to your very bones. You were looking forward to a hot shower in an effort to wash away the problems that stemmed from a simple prank when you saw who was leaning against your front door.
The last of the CEO, Jung Hoseok, was leaning against the door, his head bowed down as he clutched his heart. He looked like he was in unfathomable pain, his lips almost the shade of white. And your friend’s words echoed in your mind.
‘Prolonged non-contact with the object of their desires will cause them to be physically ill.’
You hurried up to him, holding his shoulders as you looked at him. You were crouched down in front of him, peeking up at his pained face.
“S-sir, are you okay?”
His chest tightened, his face contorted, a mask of agony etched with lines of distress. Beads of sweat formed on his forehead, evidence of the intense effort to draw in even the smallest amount of air. The hallway fell silent, save for the raspy, labored breaths that escaped him.
‘They may try to fight the unexplainable feelings they have, and this will only cause them harm. In fact, if they go without you for a long period of time, their body will suffer for a long time.’
“Hoseok? Can you hear me? I’ll call for help, okay?” you tried to make yourself sound calm for his sake, but seeing him struggling, desperate to gasp for air was making you panic. Your negligence did this, you thought. You should have made sure that you were holding the right tumbler that day.
You were about to turn to call for help when you felt a hand pulled you closer, and before you knew it, he had his arms around you. He was still breathing hard, but you noticed that the shallow breathings were farther and apart as though he could finally breath. The moment you touched him, the moment you looked into his eyes was the exact moment that a wave of relief swept over him as the oppressive grip on his chest began to loosen. The moment that you called his name was the moment that the torment that had shackled his every breath gradually lifted, replaced by the sweet release of a deep, calming respiration.
“Don’t leave me.”
‘However, every interaction with you would only make their attraction grow further.’
You placed a glass of water in front of the man who now looked perfectly fine as though he wasn’t fighting for his very life outside your apartment. He was offering you reassuring smiles as he gently watched you. He was surrounded by sacks of expensive cat food, toys, and vitamins. And of course, your cat was only too happy with them, evident by the excessive purring he was emitting as he climbed on the CEO’s lap.
“I did hear that you have an adorable son int the form of a cat,” he started as he petted your spoiled cat. “As his future daddy, I would like to provide for him as early as now.”
You didn’t pay attention to whatever he was saying, and instead, you sat next to him to see if he was really fine. The paleness was now exchanged by a healthy look on skin. It was as though that didn’t happen.
“Hoseok, listen…the reason that you are all acting this way to me, the girl you didn’t even notice before this, was because-“
“Because of that drink, right?” he interrupted you, wearing a soft smile that conveyed he harbored no anger.
“Y-you know…”
He nodded before tilting his head, “I do. It’s weird, as you said. The thing is, all of us suspects the same thing. You, little one, only confirmed it.”
“I didn’t mean for any of these to happen-“
The soft look he had was now dropped, revealing the strict CEO that everyone knew him to be. “Regardless, little one. You need to take responsibility over your actions.”
“H-how?”
“You’re going to live with us until all of this fades. You’re going to take responsibility over us, my love.”
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Part 2
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moonchild1 · 4 months
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min yoongi fic rec list (Ⅵ)
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she's back bet you didn't think i'd post another list this quick but since they've been building so much i figured why not soooo this week is yoongs and next week with be taehyung i've been reading alot lately so i wanted to share them asap so before my week gets hectic again i thought i'd post it, i honestly loved these ones i am exploring a little bit for with certain genres and i must say it like a whole new world i'm enjoying it and i hope you like them too. remember too always show lots of love and support to these amazing writers they dedicated so much time to writing these fics and they are absolute geniuses and deserve the world for sharing them with us so please follow them and take a look at their masterlists cause i will 100% guarantee that you will find your very own favourites there as well, leave the a little comment i know they will appreciate it so much and send them all the love in the world... i will reblog these through out the week and as usual minors do not interact i will block those who do.... happy reading everyone see you next week with taehyung's list and if you have anything you would like to share with me or you just wanna ramble about a fic you loved my asks are always open i love hearing from you🖤✨
a- angst s- smut f- fluff
series
stalemate by @shina913 f s a
↬"The truth is, I'm not afraid to take that gamble anymore...in the off-chance that I get lucky again and feel the way I felt when I was with you. I'd happily make that bet over and over."
oh, my darling by @yoongiofmine f s a
↬ starting your second semester at one of South Korea’s most prestigious universities should be stressful enough. Between juggling classes, good grades and a social life, your plate was full. Hoping to spice up your academic career, you thought it was a good idea to enroll as an assistant for your literature professor, whom you've held a very secret and very forbidden crush on for the past several months. What will happen now that you’re forced to work closely together? And what if your crush isn’t as one sided as you thought?
little bit of your heart by @/yoongiofmine f s a ft. jjk
↬You had everything you could ever dream of; the career of your dreams as a music producer, the best friends you could ever wish for, and a exes-turned-friends-turned-fuck-buddies relationship with Min Yoongi. You knew you and Yoongi would never move past that and you were okay with it. Until a friend from your past comes back into your life, offering to give you everything you deserve, everything Yoongi couldn’t. Will Jungkook show you what you’ve been missing? Or will the new guy threaten Yoongi enough to do something about it? 
sinful lust by @oddinary4bts s a ft. jjk
↬ in an attempt to spice up your bedroom life with your boyfriend Min Yoongi, you suggest bringing another man into the action. Yoongi seems reluctant at first, but when you mention his friend Jeon Jungkook, he can’t deny his attraction. All that’s left to do is to convince Jungkook into participating...
after hours by @archivedkookie f s a
↬ staying after hours with Yoongi for months proves to be a mistake when your heart falls for him.
Vows by @hamsterclaw f s a
↬ You're five years into your arranged marriage with Min Yoongi, and he's never once retaliated for anything you've done to him. One day you realise you've lost your appetite for provoking him, and you set about trying to win his heart instead.
sutures by @farfromsugafanfic f s a
↬ There was only one thing you and Min Yoongi had in common that night. You were both brokenhearted. You only intended to be together for one night, but when you both end up in the hospital the next day you discover that you are soulmates. It could kill you to be apart. As you and Yoongi attempt to sever the bond between you, will another be formed?
and so it goes by @prodagustd f s a
↬ You and Yoongi have been hooking up, having dates and spending most of the week together for almost seven months. He was comfortable without a title, until the last two weeks, when you couldn't see him because of your busy schedule, Yoongi can't understand why he misses you so bad if your relationship is just sex to him. Or maybe he does, but he's too much of a coward to admit it.
collateral by @theharrowing f s a ft. jjk & knj
↬ Your ex-boyfriend gets in over his head working for the local mafia, and Boss Min has come to collect his payment: You.
till death do us part by @colormepurplex2 s a
↬ Marital bliss isn't always a guarantee, especially when you find yourself marrying into the family responsible for your own family's demise. Sometimes, marriage is just a game of kill or be killed. Even when there is love involved, bullets still hurt.
grey area by @blushoseoks s a ft. jhs
↬ you spent the days staring at your wrist and tracing the skin where your soulmate’s name would one day appear. the nights were for telling your wrist about your day, as if the person whose name would one day stain itself there, like red wine to a dress, could possibly hear you. for years you thought up countless scenarios, imagined numerous possibilities, formulated conversations and rehearsed them over and over, until your mouth ran dry. outcomes and conclusions performed in your head on a repetitive loop. but out of everything you thought up, out of all of the time spent towards thinking about your soulmate, about what could possibly occur, none of it could ever prepare you for what would actually end up being. none of it ever came close to the way it happened when you finally met him. and now, after it’s all been said and done, you were left asking yourself one thing, and one thing only: “was it really worth all of this in the end?”
isn't it romantic by @jeonqkooks f s a
↬ Many things in life have a polar opposite: left and right, night and day, yin and yang, you and Min Yoongi... Hopeless romantic meets gloomy cynic. The only thing you seem to share is a magazine column but even then, you still can’t seem to understand how Yoongi can be called ‘The Love Doctor’ when he is the antithesis of everything love represents.
Flux by @yoonia f s a ft. jjk
↬ One of them is your longtime secret crush, while the other is the man with whom you had shared many heated nights filled with lust and forbidden desire, forever kept as your biggest secret of all time. You had sworn that those sinful nights would end, and that your secret crush would remain a secret. (poly au)
mean yoongi by @jjkpls f s
↬ Min Yoongi asks you to take care of his plants when he’s gone. It doesn’t go as planned and well, he has to deal with your misbehaving ass.
pretend by @gimmesumsuga s a
↬ “You know what they say: the best way to get over someone is to get under someone else, right?” idol au infidelity
naughty little kitten by @jungkooksxo s a ft ksj
↬ Jin figures out that you’re super into the idea of Yoongi listening in on you two having sex. Yoongi is super into listening to you and Jin having sex. Jin invites Yoongi to come play with his naughty little kitten.
babydoll by @jungcock s a
↬ Your childhood crush, now famous and successful, comes to visit you while you’re drunk and have a lot to prove.
eleven months by @bratkook f s a
↬ it’s been years of yoongi living his routine life, accustomed to his pace of living, going with the flow and simply existing. until you come along. yoongi absolutely can not see the logic in the way you live, but he weirdly craves it. craves the feeling of not being afraid of not knowing what's coming, being able to just let the cards fall wherever they land. and maybe you can help with that.
pause by @whatifyoulivelikethat s a
↬ Life is like a cassette tape. It seems like it’s constantly repeating, flipped from side A to side B, and the songs can’t be skipped. You can only pause, rewind, fast forward, play after you’ve already heard the song. After you’ve already lived it. All Min Yoongi knows is his own tape, until it smashes right at his feet, and then he has to learn to dance to a different beat.
darksided by @eoieopda f s a
↬ It all started with a bad joke and a bottle of Tanqueray.
three squeezes by @nomnomsik s a ft jhs
↬ Yoongi is notorious for his grumpy and emotionless behavior as director of an upcoming company. Yet, it’s a mystery to everyone how manager Hoseok always seems to soften him up. The truth is that the two are actually engaged. Unknown to this fact, you happen to take an interest in Hoseok… and he does too. 
one-shot
bad decisions by @jjungkookislife f s
↬ Jimin is desperate to get his apartment back to himself. He’ll move hell and earth, and even drop to his knees to beg you to take his brother, Yoongi, out of his hands. Who are you to say no to that pretty face and sinister grin?  
breakfast in bed by @joonbird f s
↬ “Min Yoongi, a grumpy Ikea employee, is wondering who you are and why exactly you’re sleeping in the display bed at his Ikea.”
Tricks of the Trade by @stutterfly f s a
↬ The convenience store across the street from your apartment carries your favorite energy drink. That's why you frequent it. It's definitely not because you have a big fat crush on the owner you've been flirting with for the better part of a year. Of course your brand of flirting can also be misconstrued as bickering. When a strange man wanders into the store, he thinks you need a little nudge to embrace the strings connecting you. Next thing you know you're waking up in a body that definitely doesn't belong to you. You can't decide if it's the best or worst thing that's ever happened to you.
threads by @yoonia s a ft. knj
 ↬ Life is full of surprises, just like how people are full of secrets. Just when you had thought you have been lucky enough to have your life figured out, life decides to throw you a curve ball when you least expect it. And there is nothing you could do to avoid it, except to hope that you could hold your secrets as tightly as you possibly could before everything blows up into smithereens.
under the willow tree by @orchidyoonkook f a
↬ The town outcast shows up in the one place you find solace from it’s residents. The people you force yourself to fit in with, even though you never want to be anything like them. Will he ruin your only place of salvation, or become the most unlikely friend?
mami by kithtaehyung s ft. knj
↬ you somehow have a conversation with yoongi, and you tell your roommate about a date date.
the devil wears valentino by @orchidyoonkook f s a
↬ Having known him for years—from a small mistake on your behalf, and a favour on his—you’re one of the only people he seems to be able to put up with for company. Certainly the only one he’s half-way decent with. But what’s more surprising to you is that despite his name, reputation, and the fact he’s always joked he’d have killed anyone else by this point, is that he’s never once tried to cause you harm. 
angel by @sailoryooons f s
↬ Yoongi never meant to keep coming back. You never meant to become Yoongi’s favorite. Being Min Yoongi’s favorite has dire consequences
a boy like you by @cinnaminsvga f
↬ for whenever you are feeling low, always remember that there is a boy you know who would lift the sky for you. {or alternatively: Min Yoongi loves you, though he never says it. He’s always been a firm believer in that actions speak louder than any words ever could.}
last nite by @tayegi s a
↬ This is a zombie apocalypse AU based on The Walking Dead, The Stand, World War Z, and elements of Attack of Titan
zombie bites by @luffles424 f s a
↬ Your friends have always been willing to assist you when you need a model to practice makeup on. And with the upcoming zombie film on campus is no difference. But something feels different this time, can a zombie movie be more than just a zombie movie? 
heaven's winter by @jksangelic f s a
↬ your duty as the village daughter places you in line for the season’s Offering; a tradition not to tread lightly upon. as the snow falls slow and heavy, and the seraph awaits in the shallows of the mountain, you fail to realize what the winter has in store for you.
heavy sugar by @kinktae s
↬ The Roaring Twenties were a time of great economic wealth and social change. But beneath the jazz music and colorful speakeasies were mafia led organized crimes and bloodstained cash. You knew this well, but try as you might, you just couldn’t ignore the dark and enigmatic gangster whose eyes lingered on you from across the room.
all that holly, jolly shit by @daechwitatamic f s
↬You haven’t seen or heard from Yoongi since he broke your heart five years ago, laying out a logical list of reasons why you were better off breaking up. When a Christmas Eve blizzard traps you together for the night, you have no choice but to examine how few of those reasons are still true. And if they’re not… where does that leave you?
calling the shots by @chans-room f
↬ College basketball captain Yoongi
until death by @kpopfanfictrash s a
↬ Jade has always shaped the island of Kekon. Mined from the mountains, it enhances the abilities of Green Bone warriors who wear it and allows them protection from outside harm. No one understands these threats better than you do, second-in-command of the mighty No Peak clan.  When a new danger appears, seeming to come from within, everything you once took for granted is called into question. Including the bonds you’ve made, some more dangerous than the others. None more so than Min Yoongi, head of No Peak and the only one capable of destroying your heart.
whatta catch by @aredheadedmess f a
↬ One, two, three strikes you’re out. When opposing opinions find you roughing it up with the university’s star pitcher, he makes it his mission to show that you’re wrong about college sports—and maybe your feelings about the player himself.
shatter me, embrace me by @95rkives s
↬you longed for him, yearning for love, yet all that awaited you was heartbreak.
you're losing me by @/archivedkookie a
↬ ❝ He’s losing you, and yet, he lets the flower die in front of his eyes instead of doing everything to save it. Alternatively, Yoongi and you are losing your love toward each other. ❞
spotlight by @back2bluesidex f a
↬ No matter how much you run away from Yoongi, Yoongi always comes right back to you.
all the wrong places by @mrworldwideshoulders f a
↬ After getting separated from your friends during a night out, you get stuck with a hefty bill – one that you can’t pay. So when a handsome, emotionless stranger covers your tab in a random act of kindness, you’re determined to track him down and pay him back. inspired by 24K Magic by Bruno Mars.
now we reign by @/oddinary4bts f s a
↬ when working on a collab together makes you and Min Yoongi seek comfort with the other, you discover there’s more to life than loneliness. Only, hurdles mark your path in Min Yoongi’s life, and it’s unclear what the outcome will be. Will you be destroyed by him and his world, or will you learn to reign over it, together with him?
stay by sugarwithtea f s a
↬ what happens when you get stranded in a remote town with no place to live except for a lodge owned by a dangerously handsome but annoying man? yeah, a lot.
when the stars align by @itskimtaehyung f
↬ With cuffing season approaching its end, you thought you had escaped the pressures of finding a boyfriend for the holidays. That is, until your friends set you up on a blind date that goes horribly wrong. This prompts you to enlist the help of your roommate, Yoongi, to fake a relationship so your friends will stop meddling in your love life. And it turns out Yoongi is a lot better at this romance thing than you originally thought...
egotstic by @pasteljeon s a ft. knj
↬ The timing was never right. He loved you when you were kids, knees scraped and cheeks red. You loved him when pimples bloomed across his skin, voice cracking and he found solace in the scribbled lines in his notebook. The stars never seemed to align for the two of you, but perhaps it was because you were meant for someone else.
on the court by @centerhaechan f
↬ As captain of your school's winning women's basketball team, it is only understood that you despise the men's basketball team and their captain. Your main rival, Min Yoongi, enjoys testing your patience while he attempts to lead his own team to a championship victory. Your coaches believe you both have problems with teamwork, and insist that working together will produce a promising solution.
sugar by @zehakoo f s
↬ desperately in need of sugar to make coffee in order to ease down your headache, you find yourself knocking on a strangers door who happens to be your best friend’s friend and the finest man you’ve ever encountered.
from the ashes by @fortunexkookie s a
↬ Someone is sobbing ugly, wrecked sounds that shatter the silence in the room. You need them to stop; it’s distracting and you need to focus. You need to clean the ash from his skin. You need to comb the knots from his hair. You need to dress his beautiful body in something befitting the king you know he is… but the sobbing is too loud, and your vision is blurry. It takes Yoongi wiping your tears away for you to realize that the gasping cries echoing off the stone are coming from you.
the dark by @/bratkook s
↬ your small town thrives on the occult, luring tourists in with endless themed festivities, but the only place you’re determined to see is the mysterious club that comes to life the week before Halloween. what makes The Dark so exclusive, and what secrets are they hiding behind closed doors?
Triplicity by @kainks ft. jhs
↬ Distance is a cruel thing, and when you find yourself going astray, they are there to help remind you of just where exactly you belong.
fermata by @jeongi f s
↬ fer·ma·ta: from fermare, it means to stay or to stop. min yoongi teaches you exactly how to let go.
private lessons by @dntaewithluv f s
↬ Your little sister finds it odd how you’ve been taking private lessons from her piano teacher for over a month now, but she hasn’t heard you actually play even once…
first love by @geniuslab f s a
↬You learn a lot of new things in your first year of university, including what it feels like to fall in love.
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↬looking for other myg fics or the other bts members check out my library
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aaagustd · 1 month
Text
for the night | min yoongi
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title: for the night
pairing: drug lord!min yoongi x waitress!(f)reader
genre/rating: angst, childhood best friends to strangers to friends??, unrequited love, valentine’s day au, smut, romance, 18+
summary: Yoongi lives a dangerous life. So why is he so afraid of you? 
warnings: idk what to say about these two, just a bunch of feelings (spoken & unspoken), light pining, pov switches,  mentions d*ath & grieving,  mentions dr*gs and violence, swearing, bl**d & injuries, p*stol wh*pping/ mild description of t*rture, crooked justice systems (it’s the wild wild west out there), mentions a robbery & a**ault (nothing involving the main story), mentions illnesses & health related topics, alcohol/drinking but no intoxication unless you count staring at yoongi for too long, black hair with the undercut yoongi, chains, rings, TATTOOS…. oh my !!!, yoongi has a gl*ck (a piece, that iron… whatever you wanna call it), everybody’s shipping these two but they’re just…yeah, eye f*cking from both parties, explicit content, the friend version of kiss & makeup??, dry h*mping, Dom!yoongi, yoongi getting head is a warning, protected s*x, gagging/deep throating, throat/face f*cking, hair pulling, crying, i’m sure yoongi has Sir kink hiding in there somewhere, manhandling, face slapping, yoongi’s fingers down your throat, missionary with your leg over yoongi’s shoulder, big d*ck!yoongi, his jewelry stays on bc why would it not?, cl*t stimulation, teasing, spitting, org*sm control, c*m shots, body worship, p*ssy eating, throat grabbing, i think that's all...
wc: 11.6k
release date: february 16, 2024; 10:15pm est
note: sorry i took forever. this is my first oneshot in a while so i apologize for mistakes. i'm just finding my footing in this writing thing again. thanks to @itaeewon for my banner and @cafekitsune who makes these pretty dividers. please follow both of them for cool graphics. anyway, happy late valentine's day. i love you guys.
masterlist | playlist | ao3 version
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“Enjoy the rest of your night… and be safe!”
As you wave goodbye to the last lovely couple dining at your restaurant tonight, you express how thrilled you are of their return. 
You stand in front of your father’s little restaurant and watch the lovebirds bundle up as they make their way to their vehicle, embracing each other and protecting themselves from the same frigid temperatures that threatened to ruin their Valentine’s day plans.
It’s nights like these that make the sacrifice of putting your nursing career on hold well worth it. This neighborhood doesn’t have a lot to offer as far as entertainment goes, so keeping this place in business is your top priority. This is your home, and the people you love put their all into this establishment. 
You’ll make sure it thrives and continues to be a source of comfort to the community.
You’re excited to tell your father about tonight’s turn out. You know he will be pleased. It’s been busy all day with dine-ins and take outs; everyone looking for the perfect date night meal. 
“The food is made with love,” is what your dad always says.
He always looks forward to this time of year, and he’s always talked about seeing you sitting in one of his booths with a special someone of your own some day. 
You only nod when he brings up your dating life; sometimes his love for you blinds him from reality. You’ve never brought anyone home, or ever mentioned being involved with someone to him. Even if you came out and said it, he’d never believe you’re the problem.
A chilly breeze in the mid-February air snaps you out of your thoughts—so as soon as the couple’s sedan departs from the parking lot—you slip back inside. 
The warmth instantly envelopes your trembling figure, and draws a small exhale from your lips.
Looking at your watch, you notice that it’s almost midnight. You switch the sign from open to close, but don’t bother locking the door because there’s one more visitor that should be arriving shortly.
You keep that in mind as you begin to clean the front of the house. 
One by one, your father’s employees complete their duties in a haste, then clock out so they can go home to whoever is waiting for them. Their eagerness only brings a smile to your face.
As you’re sanitizing a table, you catch a glimpse of one of the waitresses dashing towards the door.
“Well, see you tomorrow, Kaci!”
She halts, then turns around to say her goodbyes—and to gossip. 
“Night, boss lady,” she chirps.
Why she calls you “boss lady” is a mystery to you; your dad only left you in charge, but you’re just a manager. You still get on the floor and serve tables like everyone else.
You’re curious about the bit of mischief hidden in her tone. It’s not long before she reveals her true intentions.
“Did he stop by yet?”
And of course…she’s talking about Yoongi.
Usually, someone stops by on his behalf to collect the rent. His family allows your father and a few others to occupy the buildings on this lot for business. Payment is always to be paid in cash, so you make sure you visit the bank the morning of collections. 
Your family has had a close relationship with the Mins for years, so they’ve been working with you while your father recovers.
You met Yoongi right in this restaurant at the young age of four, and from there, your friendship blossomed. You were inseparable throughout grade school, but senior year is when everything shifted.
It had to be the first time you both realized that you were on different paths after graduation. While you prepped for college, he was being introduced to the hustle that built his family’s empire.
If that didn’t tear a rift in your relationship, the underlying tension and unspoken feelings surely did. People used to always say at least one of you would eventually want something different, and you used to always laugh at them…until it became a fact.
You’ve always wondered if he ever felt the same as you did—or if he ever thought about exploring something more.
Unfortunately, you’ll never know what he was feeling. After graduation, he shut you out and never looked back. That was so long ago, though. You’ve grown, and the pain of losing someone you cared about eventually went away.
…So you thought.
Being home again brings back so many memories and forgotten feelings. Things you wish you still had, and things you wish you could have had. After experiencing so much throughout college, and learning more about yourself, you’d kill to go back in time so you can handle things differently. 
You can’t help but think your friendship was torn apart by nothing more than a curious mind and raging hormones.
Yoongi’s so different now, though. However, you still see glimpses of the boy who would sneak into your window just to watch reruns of 90s cartoons with you. You smile just thinking about all the fun times you’ve shared, and all the trouble you got into.
“Look at you getting wet just thinking about him! I knew it. You’re whipped!”
“Can you keep your damn voice down,” you hiss. “Last thing I need is gossip right now.”
You’re so fed up with her teasing. If you two hadn’t just clicked when you took over the restaurant, you’d probably just kick her ass out in the cold.
“And, no. He has not. So, you can leave now, ma’am.”
“Oh, for sure,” she sighs dramatically. “Hell only knows what you two do when you are alone.”
Your jaw drops. 
Sometimes this bond you share is a blessing; but other times, it’s a curse.
Kaci’s a sweetheart, but her mouth… Well, let’s just say these comments are normal for her. 
And just like your father, she loves to play Cupid. No wonder he hired her.
“Just get your ass out of here.”
You can barely keep your laugh from bursting through your lips as you send a rag flying towards her. She dodges it, then proceeds to give you a middle finger. She has another shady comment ready to roll off the tip of her tongue, but then she glances out of the glass door and smirks instead. 
You scoff. “Bitch, what is it now?”
Kaci then shakes her head. 
“Nothing, babe. I’m out,” she winks. Kaci then points towards the parking lot and whispers, “Daddy’s here.”
“Huh? What are you talking about—”
Crawling into one of the booths, you partially open the blinds with your fingers and peek out of the window.
About seven sets of headlights stare back at you, all belonging to vehicles that are as dark as the midnight hour. A BMW sits in the center, blacked out with tinted windows and black custom rims. However, you don’t need a look inside to know who it is. No one else would pull up like they own the lot.
All the businesses are closed, which means these aren’t customers. It’s the boss.
Your heart rate builds up when the door opens and his sneakers touch the concrete. He stands there for a moment fixing his jacket and discreetly observing his surroundings. 
Your eyes follow his movements. You can only hear the bass from his music and the noises coming from your throat as you try to gulp down the saliva building up in your mouth. 
All you needed to see was the top of his head to confirm what you already knew. 
Yoongi’s here, and he’s the one coming to collect payment tonight.
You don’t know why your heart is about to pound out of your chest like you’re hexed by some teenage crush. Maybe you are still hung up on him a little bit. You can’t deny how attractive he still is. He definitely wears age well.
The dark hair suits him perfectly. You can remember the horror stories about the color experiments gone wrong when you were teenagers. It’s a surprise that it’s still luscious and healthy as it is.
However, that isn’t the only thing that has changed in his appearance.
They’re hard to spot under his jacket, but his torso, back, and arms are covered in tattoos. You only know about this because another waitress working here loves to share the story of how she was on her knees in a bathroom giving a shirtless Yoongi a blowjob. 
You would never admit jealousy, but damn; that lucky bitch.
Yoongi starts to make his way across the parking lot, pushing back his hair with his ringed-fingers to grant better vision out of his peripherals. You know he’s always watching his back; he can never be too careful when he’s making moves.
His haircut allows you to get a glimpse of the ink crawling up his neck, disappearing behind his ear. His earring dangles in the wind as he strides in your direction.
Each step is confident and dominant;  his aura dark and mysterious. 
A man who is about his business, it’s no shock that heads turn when he steps into the room. He’s reserved, but not afraid to enforce his authority when he deems necessary. You heard stories, and crossing Yoongi is considered a death wish. 
He’s like the hot badass described in movies or books, but he actually is that guy. Handsome, street-wise, tattoos and scars; paired with money, jewelry, and you’d be stupid to think he isn’t packing. 
You can smell the power and Dior emitting from his body all the way from where you are. 
Each step he takes towards the entrance of the restaurant gives you a better view without being noticed. It’s a sin how good he looks and he’s just wearing a simple outfit with some sneakers. You have no business feeling these kinds of things, but it’s impossible to not.
“Can he just bend us over already?”
You hear Kaci whisper the same words you were just thinking. But she can’t know that, so you swat her again for good measure.
“Fine…I’m leaving,” she whines, walking to the door.
You back out of the booth and move over to the host stand so you can roll silverware and act like you weren’t watching him.
Kaci opens the door just as he’s about to reach for the handle, and of course, she gives him a warm welcome.
“Hi, Yoongi,” she beams. You roll your eyes the second you hear that annoying high-pitched voice she uses when she’s being coy.
“Hey, can you hang back for a bit? It won’t be long.”
“Yeah, sure. Everything okay?”
The look he gives her sends your radar up, so you set down the utensils in your hand and join them in the lobby.
“Hey,” you greet him when he notices you. “What’s going on?”
Yoongi sighs before he answers, shaking his head as he gathers his words.
“You know the alterations shop over there?” 
His head nods in the direction of the Leonard’s shop a few stores down. Both of you nod because they take lunch breaks here everyday.
“Somebody hit them up about an hour ago. Left their daughter in bad shape before they stripped the registers,” he informs.
“Are you serious? That’s awful.”
“Yeah, they’re good people. Who would do something that disgusting?” Kaci asks.
Yoongi only shrugs. “Don’t know, but as soon as I find out…”
He doesn’t even need to continue. It’ll be bad; probably worse than you can imagine. One thing the Min’s don’t tolerate is disrespect. You mess with one of their people, you get handled. In this case, you can’t even feel bad for the bastard. That family doesn’t bother anyone. It’s a shame they were targeted.
“Anyway, I don’t want either of you lingering around here at night anymore. Stick together during opening and closing until we catch this motherfucker understand?”
“Yeah, got it,” you reply, and Kaci also agrees.
“Sure, not a problem.”
With everyone on the same page, you make a note in your mind to update the security system in the restaurant and think of some safety tips for employees. No one can ever be too careful, especially after what just occurred so close to home.
“And Kaci?” he calls, just as she’s getting ready to depart. 
“Yeah?”
“Don’t walk home. Your pepper spray is expired. Ask one of the guys to drive you.”
“Is Hoseok out there?” 
You and Yoongi share a look. He’s probably wondering what it’s about, but then again, who doesn’t know they’re fucking?
“Yeah…he is—”
“Kay, bye!”
Before the door slams in your face, you call out to her. 
“Text me when you’re home!... Or when you’re able to use your hands.”
Yoongi chuckles as the both of you watch her dash across the lot. You aren’t sure how she’s able to spot the right SUV, but she does within seconds.
“This has been going on for a while, huh?” Yoongi inquires.
“Mhm. Fight, fuck, repeat.”
After a moment goes by, you realize you forgot to bring the money you owe Yoongi. You snap your fingers when you remember why he’s there in the first place.
“Oh, yeah. Come on, it’s back here,” you tell him.
Yoongi follows you toward the back of the restaurant until you reach the small manager’s office tucked in a corner of the kitchen. While you dig in your apron for the key, Yoongi checks in with you to see how everything’s going.
“How’s your dad?”
You pause to look at him and answer with a proud smile. Your father’s been working really hard on his road to recovery; it’s nice to talk about his accomplishments without someone looking at you with pity, which Yoongi never does.
“He’s been doing better. Lots of physical therapy, but he walked on his own yesterday.”
With a nod, Yoongi’s expression softens.  “That’s the shit I like to hear.”
“Me too.”
Once you find the keys, you unlock the door and the both of you step inside the dark room.
“Thanks,” you whisper when he flips the lightswitch for you. 
You can feel him watching you as you walk around the desk, and when you squat down to open the safe underneath, you hear his footsteps approaching. 
You start entering the combination while he whistles and looks around your office. 
You’re curious about what he’s looking at, but right now you can't even take a peek without him noticing. Instead, you focus on gathering the cash you owe him for last month and this month while he’s busy snooping around.
After a while, you figure he’s found something interesting because the room becomes quiet. You grab the stack you set aside and close the safe, making sure it’s locked before you do anything else.
“So how was your day?”
Yoongi’s deep voice tears a giant rift in the silence, startling you and causing you to bump your head on the edge of the desk. Thankfully, his back is turned and he didn’t hear the small thud because you’d be beyond embarrassed.
“It was okay,” you reply as you regain your footing. 
Yoongi turns in your direction when he hears your words become clearer, indicating you’re no longer digging around in the safe. He meets you halfway and you extend your hand with the stack of money resting between your fingers. 
“This is all of it.”
Yoongi looks at the stack before he responds. Most of the time, it’s so hard to know what he’s thinking because his expression is always so stoic.
“Just okay?” he quizzes. 
“Yeah, pretty much. It was busy so I was stuck in autopilot most of the day.”
He still hasn’t made a move to accept the money. You feel kind of awkward being so close to him as is, and his lack of response makes you feel even more anxious. 
Finally, he speaks. “Do you even have this to give me?”
“Yeah, we’re good. Please, take it.”
You gesture for him to take the money, and he reaches for it, making you believe he’s going to grab it.
“It’s all here. If you want me to count it, I—”
“Don’t worry about it,” he insists.
“What do you mean?”
“Exactly what I said,” he shrugs.
“Yoongi, no. We haven’t paid in a month. My dad would already be mad at me for being behind.”
“Does he have to know?” The look Yoongi gives you reminds you of all the times he’s talked you into doing something wild. He’d always take the blame if you got caught, but the thrill always made getting grounded irrelevant to you. “Keep it. We’re good until he gets back, okay?”
“Yoongi, I can’t.”
“You can’t?”
“I won’t,” you declare confidently.
“So you’re arguing with me?”
Your eyes widen, realizing that he wasn’t giving you an option.
“I-I’m sorry. I was just—”
“Don’t worry about it, alright? Just keep doing what you’re doing. I only hear good things about this place,” he concludes.
“Okay, ok. Thanks, Yoongi.”
“Don’t mention it.”
As you’re returning the money to the safe, Yoongi brings something to your attention.
“I don’t see your car outside.”
“Ah, shit. It needed to be serviced. I was supposed to pick it up on my lunch, but I forgot.”
After visiting the bank this morning, you dropped your vehicle off at the dealership for maintenance, but the breakfast rush swarmed in as soon as you arrived at work. By the time you thought about picking it up, it was well after business hours.
“Um, do you mind—”
“Wanna ride?” Yoongi offers.
“Please.” Relieved, you exhale a needed sigh. “If it’s not an inconvenience.”
“Not at all, love.”
You quickly grab your purse and switch off the light in your office, ignoring that feeling you got from the little pet name. 
Yoongi leads the way this time. As you’re following him through the restaurant, you’re sure to double check everything before you leave. Even Yoongi turns to ask you if you’ve secured everything.
“Good?”
“Yeah, everything’s turned off and we’re locked up tight.”
“Cool.”
Walking into the dining area, you give everything a quick once-over before following Yoongi to the exit. Everything looks tidy and neat how you like it so you step out into the cold night with your chauffeur. 
He waits with you while you lock the front doors, looking around for any curious eyes. After you’ve finished turning the lock and key, you give the handle a tug to make sure it doesn’t open.
Growing up in this neighborhood will teach you a thing or two about being cautious and aware of your surroundings.
“It’s freezing tonight,” you comment.
Sometimes you like to make small talk with Yoongi, see where the conversation goes. Depending on the mood he’s in, he’ll either have one sentence responses or he’ll engage in light conversation.
You don’t mention the past much. It seems like pretending it never happened is easier for both of you. However, sometimes you have an impulse to bring up the subject, or at least try to mend what’s broken. 
If that’s possible.
“Cold? This is perfect weather.”
You roll your eyes. He’s definitely fucking with you.
“Oh, whatever. You know it’s freezing out here.”
You don’t care how ridiculous you look speeding towards his car. You’re shivering and Yoongi takes forever to unlock the door.
You shuffle from foot to foot, wiggling to build up some body heat. You can hear the fabric of your jeans rubbing together due to the friction.
“You know it’s already unlocked, right?”
Oh.
You climb inside and relief washes over you. The heat is blowing warm and strong, making the leather seats even more comfortable. The seat warmers keep your butt cozy, and the vents are aiming towards your upper body. It’s perfect; you could fall asleep right here.
When Yoongi gets in the driver seat, your head lolls in his direction.
“Thank you.”
“For?” he asks.
“Your car feels like heaven right now.”
Yoongi scoffs softly.
“It isn’t always this warm. Trust me,” he replies.
“Well regardless, thanks. I appreciate it.”
“Not a problem, love.”
Fuck.
Yoongi’s engine revs as he pulls out of the parking lot. A thought comes into your mind as the vibrations travel up your body.
“Does it ever make your balls tingle?”
He coughs, clearing his throat while checking to see if he heard right.
“Uh, what?”
“The car,” you elaborate. “When you’re driving it…You don’t feel anything?”
Honestly, you’re just chatting to keep yourself from falling asleep. You don’t even expect him to answer as you stare out of the window, watching the SUVs fade in the distance.
“I guess I never really thought about it,” he responds.
You nod, vibing to the music. He’s turned the volume down since you’ve joined him, so you can actually hear each other speak.
“Hm. Sure does make your pussy tingle.”
You don’t think he heard that part. It was barely a whisper. If he did, he chose to ignore it.
“You alright?”
“Yup,” you answer. “Just ready to unwind.”
“Any plans tonight?”
You sit up in your seat, and turn to him.
“You bet.”
Yoongi laughs. “Oh, yeah?”
“I have a date with my bed, and I’m gonna let my blanket top me.”
“Gotcha. So you’re locked down, huh?”
“I wouldn’t say that.”
“Well, it sure sounds like it. I never see you having any fun.”
You give him a look. 
“Well, look who’s talking. Besides, you know I’m dealing with a lot right now.”
“Fair enough, but you’re still allowed to do something for yourself for a change. Some of us don’t have that privilege,” he replies.
“I think everyone has the privilege to do something for themselves. You just have to be selfish enough to go for it, I guess.”
“That is true.”
Yoongi then turns the music up a few notches. You already know what that means. He’s over conversation and wants to get lost in his thoughts. 
As you cruise through the streets, people may look on the surface and think this is some young bachelor taking his car for a late night drive—maybe heading to one of the city’s hot spots. 
But Yoongi is all work, and no play. If it’s not about moving product, it’s placed on the backburner.
You can relate, but tonight you’re switching it up. Self care is calling your name and you aren’t hanging up this time.
“What happened to the garden?”
You’re pulled from your thoughts by Yoongi’s voice. 
As he pulls up to the curve in front of your childhood home, he can’t stop himself from teasing you about your dying plants. You really tried your best with them, but unfortunately, you weren’t gifted with nurturing hands.
“You’re not funny,” you mutter, acting ignorant.
You know you’ve destroyed your dad’s flower bed, but he doesn’t have to make fun of you.
“I’m just saying, shouldn't you cover them?”
“I forgot!”
“You always do,” he mumbles.
You giggle as you’re opening the door; finally having a carefree conversation with your old friend again feels nice. As soon as you step out into the elements again, the winter air nips at your cheeks and you know you’ll be trembling by the time you get to your doorstep.
“Well, thanks for the ride.”
Yoongi just nods and tells you that he’d do it anytime you needed him to.
As you stand outside of the car, you start to get that feeling in your gut. That urge you know you shouldn’t have, but the temptation is stronger than ever.
Yoongi tilts his head, wondering why you’re standing in the cold. You’re frozen, silently debating on what you should do.
Ultimately, you go for it, knowing the risk you’re taking without being prepared for the aftermath. 
You’re even sure why you’re asking, or where you expect things to go. But tonight made you realize something. You miss having a best friend. 
Your best friend.
“Hey, it's late. You wanna come inside?... If you don’t have any plans.”
Regret washes over you as soon as the words leave your mouth. You weren’t ready, neither was he. You curse yourself for rushing it. The silence goes on for ages, but you’re so numb, the cold doesn’t faze you.
Finally, he gives you an answer. “You know I can’t do that.”
Well, now you know you’re the only one still holding on. By can’t, he means he won’t. 
Nodding, you lie and pretend that you understand where he’s coming from. “Yeah, I get it. Sorry about that.”
You were sure he’d be more open now that time has passed. However, you’re still stuck where you left off. He still won’t hear you out.
“There’s no need,” he assures. 
Still, you feel guilty. Selfish.
Foolish.
“Well look, I'll see you around, yeah?” He checks his phone and tosses it on the passenger seat. "I have to go deal with something."
“Okay, thanks again for the ride. Stay safe.”
You try not to look disappointed, but it’s probably no good. You’re sure he hears it in your voice. Or maybe you sound more tired than anything. You are exhausted. Maybe it’s your restless mind that's causing you to get ahead of yourself and open old wounds. It’s best you go inside before you can dig yourself a bigger hole. 
“You'll call me if you need me, right?”
If you need him… 
You always need him. He’s your rock. Well, probably not anymore. How do you learn to forget someone who’s always been there for you?
You swallow the bitterness coating your tongue before you reply. You’ll get over it. You always do. 
Just not right now.
“Yeah, I’ve tried that already. Goodnight, Yoongi.”
You shut his car door and retreat to the safety of your home. You’re unsure if he says it back or not. You walk away before he can respond. 
Everything in your sight becomes blurry as your vision is blocked by a wave of pending tears. You urgently open your front door in case he’s following you. 
A part of you wishes that he did. 
But the longer you stand there, back pressed against your front door, secluded from the same world you’ve just finished servicing—you realize that the chances of that happening are too slim to hold onto. 
Minutes go by, and you start calming down. You find your strength again, and you realize that your vulnerability made you panic. You got too comfortable, and that’s your fault. 
Tonight will just be another solo night; nothing you aren’t used to. 
You wipe your face and rid yourself of all the negative energy. Tomorrow you’ll be fine and the blow of rejection will start to fade away. Shaking your head, you clear your mind and start taking off your clothes.
You put it in your mind that you won’t hold this against Yoongi, and whenever he’s ready to talk—if ever—you’ll tell your side of the story if he wants to hear it.
Until then, you’ll just focus on you because he was right about one thing.
You should treat yourself; you deserve it.
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“Get your sorry ass up.”
Yoongi stares at his hand as he walks away from the battered man lying on the ground. His knuckles are bruised and covered in the thief’s blood. The sight would bring shame to his father. He shouldn’t be out here behaving like a street thug when he’s got power moves to make.
But when he found out there was danger lurking so close to you, he had to deliver the message himself. He’s sure it was heard loud and clear.
Possibilities played through his mind with every blow that rained down on the guy. What if it was your father’s restaurant that had been hit up? What if you had been inside?
He’s furious, enraged; but mostly at himself for how he keeps letting you down. You wanted to forgive him tonight, put everything that happened behind you and maybe try again. But what did he do?
He ruined it.
He always figured that he would, but it’s what you needed to hear. He’s not a good guy or some bad boy you can turn good. Yoongi’s in this too deep to be pulled out. There’s no way he could ever look your father in the eye and tell him that he’s put your life in danger. 
That’s why he refuses to address those feelings he has for you. He’d either end up breaking your heart, or getting you into a nasty situation.
If the wrong person were to know that he has a thing for you, you’d become a weapon for an opp to use against him. Yoongi’s respected by many, but there are some who want everything he has; you’d be added to the top of that list if they knew he’d died for you. 
He can’t lose what his family’s worked hard for, but he can’t lose you either. 
There’s only two options if that line’s ever crossed. Either you’re with him, and you’ll have to step into his world; or you’re not; and the streets deem you fair game. 
The latter infuriates him. He’d kill anyone who would ever think of laying a finger on you. That’s why he has to make examples out of motherfuckers like the one behind him.
“You need to find you something safe to do, my friend.”
Yoongi turns around just as the man rises to his feet, staggering and weak from the beating he’s received. One of his arms cradles his torso while the other wipes blood from his lips. He’d receive pity from anyone without the context, but if they knew what he did to that seamstress—they’d be wondering why he’s still alive.
This is far less than what this scum deserves. His apologies fall on deaf ears. Yoongi’s men don’t give a shit about his apology, and neither does he.
“I’m so sorry. I…I didn’t know this was your block too. I was just—”
Yoongi pulls out his glock and fires a shot near the guy’s foot, barely missing him. He doesn’t recall asking him to speak.
“You better assume every block is mine, motherfucker. I own this fucking city. Have you forgotten?”
“I—”
Another shot nearly blows his head off because once again, Yoongi never asked him to talk.
“Who told you to open your mouth?...” he seethes. “Speak again and I won’t miss.”
The man nods, lifting his shaky hands as a surrender. 
Yoongi’s jaw clenches as he contemplates his next move. A few minutes ago, he was set on ending him right in this spot, but after thinking about you he’s calmed down a lot. 
That’s the only reason this man’s life will be spared. His mind is somewhere else now; all he can think about is his own mistakes. This guy’s learned his lesson; no need to waste anymore of his time here.
“Look, don’t ever put me in this situation again. Am I clear?”
“Yes, Sir. I won’t. I promise.”
Yoongi knocks the guy out cold with his gun. He looks over at the officer who was escorting the guy to jail and gives him a nod, giving him the clear to take him in. 
“This was a citizen’s arrest,” he insists, handing the cop a wad of cash.
“You got that.”
He dismisses his men, and goes to have a cigarette while he thinks.
After the criminal is placed in the back of the squad car, the cop rejoins Yoongi as he sits on the hood of his vehicle, having a smoke before he goes on with his night.
“Never thought I’d see you get dirty, especially tonight.”
Yoongi scoffs. “Yeah, me either.”
Yoongi looks at his personal phone, looking to see if you’ve texted him, or called. He doesn’t know why he’s checking. He shouldn’t expect you to reach out after how he left you tonight. It’d be a miracle if you ever wanted to see him again.
“It’s not too late, you know.”
“The fuck are you talking about, Shark?”
Shark is one of his longtime friends. He comes from a long line of crooked cops. 
He’s been present through the ups and downs of his friendship with you. Shark’s always been rooting on your side, always telling him to reach out when you left for college.
Yoongi has never taken his advice, though.
“I’m just saying. Maybe you should just call her,” he explains.
“Who?”
“You want me to say her name out here?”
Yoongi shakes his head. “Absolutely not.”
Both of them share a laugh at Yoongi’s reaction, but then silence falls over the night. 
Now that the adrenaline is wearing off, Yoongi’s hands are beginning to throb with pain. He tries focusing on something other than that awful feeling, but he can only think about you.
Why couldn’t he just hear you out? That would have been fair. He’s regretting more and more as time goes by, wondering if the opportunity has slipped away.
He notices the way you look at him, the way you perk up when you see him. He knows there are a lot of unspoken words because honestly, he’s always had deeper feelings for you. It was way before you realized you like him as well. He bottled that shit up throughout high school, and when he had the chance to tell you how he felt, he fumbled.
You even gave him a second chance to come clean, and he still couldn’t get it together.
“Seriously, what happened tonight? I see it all over your face.”
Yoongi sighs. “I took her home, and she invited me inside.”
“And you said no? Dude, no way.”
Yoongi looks over and finds his friend’s face stuck in a grimace. He feels shame creeping up his neck, so he quickly shifts his focus somewhere else. 
“What was I supposed to say? You know I can’t let anyone see me walking in her place,” he argues.
“You could have invited her to yours, explained things a bit more. I’m sure she’s capable of making decisions for herself.”
Yoongi’s at a crossroads, but every way he turns leaves him with doubt. It’s like he’s damn regardless. 
“What if it doesn’t change her mind? What should I tell her dad, huh?” Yoongi rants. “He asked me to keep her safe, man.”
“And what do you think he meant by that?”
Shark looks at his watch and turns to Yoongi as he prepares to leave. 
“Look, my shift ends soon, so I gotta go. But I think you know as well as I do that you have the old man’s blessings. Just stop overthinking it. You’ll screw yourself.”
With that, Shark walks to his vehicle, and puts it in drive.Before he pulls from underneath the overpass, he rolls his window down and yells out.
“It’ll be alright, brother. Trust me!”
When Shark leaves, he switches cars with his right hand, not wanting to double back to your part of town in the same ride. As he starts driving away from the secluded area, he thinks back on how tonight has gone so far. That’s when something you said hits him…and it hits him hard.
“You said you needed me,” he whispers.
All day you’ve been surrounded by people, loving each other; only to go home to an empty house. You just wanted some company, a distraction. You wanted a friend.
It’s then he realizes that he’s hurt your feelings more than a little. You weren’t hung up on a crush you had over five years ago. He’s so stupid. How did his brain not perceive what you said as an invitation to hang out?
Just like you used to.
Yoongi does a U-turn and heads straight for your house. He has no idea what you’ll say to him, or if you’ll speak to him at all. But he needs you to know one thing; he gets it now. And he won’t ever let you down again.
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No matter how many times you watch it, the horror classic Thirteen Ghosts never gets old. Your dad laughs whenever you call it your comfort flick, but he’s also not a horror fan so he just wouldn’t understand. 
That bath worked more magic than you could ever imagine. It’s super late, and you should be in bed, but you’ve been thinking about the bottle of wine you bought the other day since earlier.
You aren’t really a drinker, but the bottle was cute. You figured tonight would be the perfect chance to eat some snacks, watch a movie, and give it a try. But as soon as the glass touches your lips, your doorbell rings. 
You’re not expecting anyone this late. When you don’t answer, they pound on the door, startling you. Wine spills all over your hands. Quickly, you use your shirt to dry them off before making a bigger mess. You drink what’s left in the glass in one gulp before checking your Ring camera, letting out a gasp when you discover who’s standing at your doorstep.
“Yoongi?” you whisper.
Placing your phone and empty glass on the coffee table, you go to see what he wants. If you’re honest, you’re a bit worried. Did someone break into the restaurant? 
Your dad would be devastated. 
Without a second thought, you open the door, and interrogate Yoongi before he can even open his mouth.
“Is everything okay? Did something happen to my dad’s—”
“Oh, fuck. No! No, that’s not why I’m here,” he interrupts. 
You breathe a sigh of relief, clutching your chest as the panic slowly leaves your body. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to scare you.”
“No, it’s okay. What’s up? Are you okay?”
Now that you’re not shaken with worry, you notice how disheveled he looks. His hair is messy; his expression seems anxious, his knuckles bruised.
“Were you fighting?” you quiz.
“Huh?” Yoongi looks confused but then suddenly seems to remember his injury. “Oh, this is nothing. I’m good. I just came to uhh… To see you.”
Your eyebrow raises curiously. “To see me?”
“Yeah,” he confirms. 
“Okay, well… that’s nice of you, but I was planning on going to bed in a bit. I have to get up early.”
You aren’t sure why he’s acting weird. Is he in trouble? Surely, he’d tell you if he was. If so, why would he come here?
“Um, okay. Sorry,” he answers.
You tell him goodnight and attempt to shut the door, but Yoongi lodges his arm into the opening.
“What are you doing—”
“I’m listening.”
“What?”
You open the door once again, fully believing this man has lost his mind. It’s freezing out there, and he’s just standing there babbling.
“I said I’m listening,” he repeats. “Tell me.”
“Tell you what, Yoongi?”
You’ve never been more confused. First, he drops you off and hauls ass across town. Now he’s pacing at your doorstep, fumbling all over his words. Something’s going on.
“You wanted to talk, but I ghosted you, remember?”
Oh. So he remembers that.
“That’s water under the bridge. Just forget it,” you insist.
“So now I’m water under the bridge?”
“What?! No! That’s not what I said.”
“Well, explain,” he pleads. “Or just tell me it’s too late.”
“Yoongi…”
“I just wanna be friends again, but this haunts me. If you have feelings for me, I can’t—”
“I don’t,” you admit.
This is the first time Yoongi has stood completely still since he got here. He stares at you with wide eyes, not uttering a single word. 
It took you a long time to understand your feelings for Yoongi. You had to experience a few unnecessary hook ups and break ups to realize you weren’t in love. You just wanted to fuck him like everyone else.
Who knows where things would have gone? But it would have been nice to let things happen naturally than to bottle up feelings.
You open the door again, and step to the side. 
“Come in. It’s cold.”
This time he doesn’t reject your invitation. 
Yoongi follows you into your living room, looking around and probably reminiscing over the past. Nothing’s really changed other than the furniture. However, the memories of the days you two used to run around while your mom scolded you for messing up the floors are still present.
You point to the couch and offer him a seat while you stand there gathering your words.
“You can sit here.”
“Thanks,” he replies.
Yoongi sits and does that thing he does with his hands when he’s nervous. His fingers intertwine and he just watches his thumbs chase each other in a loop. He used to do it all the time whenever he’d stay too late at your house and his dad would come looking for him.
Your parents always were able to calm Mr. Min down before he could reprimand Yoongi. It took him a while but he finally understood that you and his son were best friends, and your place was Yoongi’s second home.
There are so many evenings he’d miss basketball practice to hold you while you cried after your mom died. Yoongi never left your side. Even when you were unrightfully resentful and angry with him for still having his mom in his life; he understood every stage of your grief.
So no, he’s not just water under the bridge to you. He could never be. He may be wrong for shutting you out, but everyone has their breaking point. 
“I wanted to tell you that I was in love with you. That I wanted you to go with me to college,” you confess.
Yoongi’s jaw nearly hits the floor. You can tell he’s shocked because he starts tripping over his words.
“I-I… I didn’t know that. I’m sorry. You—”
“...Was confused,” you add. 
You can’t help but laugh at yourself and at the situation. All this time you’ve been scared to rip the bandaid off, and the wound’s already healed.
“I didn’t have anyone to talk with about dating and stuff; not from a young woman’s perspective, at least. I would watch rom-coms and thought I had butterflies whenever I saw you. Whole time…”
You fold your arms and lean against the wall, watching the television with a blank stare. Already, it feels like a weight is being lifted off your shoulders. So much tension has built up over time, so many unspoken words and unresolved feelings that it’s a relief to get it all out.
“...My pussy was throbbing.”
Yoongi picks his mouth up off the floor, and straightens in his seat. Once again, he’s caught off guard.
“Huh-What?”
You snort. “I was horny, curious… I just wanted you to bend me over and deflower me.”
“Deflower you? The fuck?”
Yoongi’s laughter erupts from his chest, lightening the vibes in the room. It’s nice to hear him laugh, like genuinely grin and reveal his cute smile. You didn’t realize how much you missed seeing the image until it’s presented to you at that moment.
“Well, it’s true!”
“I see you are still an over-sharer,” Yoongi chuckles.
“And you’re still stubborn.”
Both of you look at each, shaking your heads and sharing a fond smile. You can tell this has been weighing on him as much as it did you. He’s regretful of how he handled the situation, and you’re sorry for staying away so long.
You should have tried harder. Yoongi always did whenever it got tough. 
Regardless, it’s in the past. It’s time to move on.
You walk across the room with your arms open, inviting your friend into an embrace.
“Seriously? No way,” he grimaces, trying to get up before you can close him in.
Unfortunately, he’s not fast enough.
“You know you want to. Come here.”
Wrapping your arms around Yoongi, you giggle when he acts like he’s all tense. He always pretends he doesn’t want to hug you at first, but then, he gives in.
“Fuck it,” he groans, pulling you closer.
You melt in his arm almost immediately. You don’t even care if you slide to the floor. All of your weight rests on him, but he still holds you up while complaining about you smothering him.
“I wish I could breathe,” he gripes.
“Fine…”
Yoongi expects you to back away; but instead, you climb on his lap.
“What are you doing?” 
You shrug. “My bad. I thought we were cool.”
Maybe you did move a little too quickly, but it’s nothing you haven’t done hundreds of times. You’ve shared beds, seen each other naked… accidentally found each other’s Pornhub accounts. You were just acting on instinct. 
You’re about to stand, but Yoongi stops you. “We are, but aren’t you mad at me?... From earlier?”
“A little, but…”
“But what?”
“Can’t friends kiss and make up?” you propose.
His hands rest on your bare thighs, fingers gently nudging at your big t-shirt. The room seems warmer now that there’s no distance between you. Or maybe it’s just the fires building in your belly that’s making you hot?
“Maybe…”
You trace his lips with your finger tips while looking in his eyes. You could spend the night like this if it were up to you. He’s beautiful; inside and out.
“Wanna try and find out?” he whispers.
You respond by softly connecting your lips, moaning instantly as your entire body begins to tingle. 
Yoongi pulls you closer, holds you tighter, and encourages you to deepen the kiss you share by parting your lips with his tongue. You don’t deny him, and he invades your mouth—taking over and leaving you dizzy from the lack of oxygen.
Suddenly, he pulls away, and you’re quick to whine.
“I smell wine,” he comments. “Are you—”
“I had a sip, and the rest spilled all over my hands.”
You show him the stains on your hands and shirt, and he just stares in disbelief. “Only you.”
“Whatever,” you dismiss, trying to steal another kiss from his wet lips. “I need you.”
You drag your crotch across his lap, seeking friction. You’re shocked when he grabs your waist, thinking you’re overstepped once again.
“Hold on.”
Yoongi reaches under his shirt and grabs his gun from his waistband. He shoves it in the folds of your couch, and throws you a wink.
“We’ve kissed. Now let's make up.”
With a smile, you get up and grab his hand.
“Follow me…”
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“Get on the bed,” he moans against your lips, pulling away to take off his shirt. 
You begin to move, but a thought pops up in your mind. 
Instead of climbing on the bed, you watch him remove his t-shirt and reveal his ink covered body. You bite your lip in awe at the masterpiece standing in front of you. He has no idea how hot he looks while simply undressing. You’re ready to pounce on him right now, but you pace yourself.
You have all night.
When Yoongi notices you’re still standing in the same spot, he tilts his head with a puzzled expression.
“Change your mind?” he quizzes.
You shake your head, and close the small space between you. Before he can say anything else, you drop to your knees. With skilled hands, you pull on his belt until it's free from the buckle. You flash Yoongi a smirk when you discover he’s watching you with those dark eyes. 
As you pop open the button on his pants, your other hand flattens over his denim covered dick, noting the way it begs to be freed.
“I can’t wait,” you murmur, stroking it over his jeans. 
Once you’re finally able to access his underwear, you reach inside and retrieve his thick, warm cock. You don’t care if you moaned before your lips even touched it. Shame is long gone, and you aren’t afraid to show Yoongi how long you’ve been waiting for this.
“I can tell,” he scoffs.
You let his smart remarks slide for the sake of your impatience, and move in to run the tip of your tongue up and down his slit. His precum oozes out and coats your taste buds, giving you a tiny sample of what he’ll taste like when he dumps his load on your tongue. 
Yoongi hisses, probably reacting to sensitivity. You keep going, giving him a moment to ground himself before you give him the real deal.
While you tease him, you admire his girth. He’s heavy in your hand, but his dick is the perfect size to wrap your hand around it. It’s smooth, but textured and veiny—just like his hands.
No longer able to wait any longer, you part your lips and let your saliva cover the tip. You use your fingers and palm to lubricate the rest of his shaft so that it slides into your mouth with ease. Only when he’s dripping wet with spit do you take him in, and his reaction is golden.
“Ahh, fuck.”
If you could smile, you would right now. Knowing you have him on his tiptoes almost feels as good as the blunt head of his dick touching the back of your throat. 
You can feel his muscles tenses up once your head begins to bob up and down, purposefully slurping loudly to create sinful noises.
“Fuck,” Yoongi curses. 
His voice is rough as he pants through his words, attempting to keep his composure, but failing. 
When Yoongi’s hand finds the back of your head, you look up to see what he’s doing. You keep going as you watch him whisper profanities into the air, running his ringed fingers through his dark strands.
He gathers your hair in his palm, making your scalp tingle and sting due to his strong grip. He starts controlling your movements, managing how much of him you take in at once. It’s not long before you’re choking and gagging on his cock. 
Drops of your spit and tears fall to the floor. Your head starts to spin from the vigorous motions, but the feeling doesn’t prevent you from allowing Yoongi to fuck your throat until it’s raw. 
Craving more, he thrusts into your mouth. The look on his face and the desperation of his movements lets you know he’s almost near his peak. However, once he realizes what’s happening, he swiftly pulls out, leaving you coughing due to the sudden intake of air.
“Look at me,” he commands after you catch your breath. “You’re fucking hot for that.”
“Thank you—”
Yoongi’s hand smacks the smirk off your face. You’re caught off guard, but that doesn’t stop your pussy from gushing at the change in his tone.
“But is that what I told you to do?”
You try to shake your head, but he’s still holding your hair.
“No, use your fucking mouth.”
When you try to speak, he shoves his fingers in your mouth, pushing them deep enough to gag you.
“You like using your mouth, don’t you?” he asks, but you know he isn’t looking for an answer. “So speak.”
“I do,” you croak around his digits.
“Now get the fuck on the bed like I told you to the first time.”
Yoongi snatches you up, and you scramble to the bed. You sit and wait for him to take off the rest of his clothes, trying to remain patient as you see he’s not in the mood for disobedience. You weren’t bothered the slightest by his lack of respect.
In fact, you crave more; and if you have to beg for it, you will.
“Second thoughts?” he asks randomly.
You notice that his wallet’s in his hand and after a few seconds he pulls out a condom. You get butterflies the moment he places a knee on the bed. For you, it’s not even happening fast enough.
“No way.”
“Good,” he winks. “Because I’m not gentle.”
“And I’m not glass.”
Yoongi growls when he hears that response, crawling over to you at lightning speed.
“Come here.”
He grabs your thigh and pulls you closer, pushing your legs apart so he can access your center. His fingers trace over your lace panties until he ultimately decides to rip them off of you. 
You squeak in surprise when you hear the fabric tearing.
“Yoongi!”
“Shh,” he coos. “They’re ruined anyway.”
With a face burning with embarrassment, you turn away and stare at the wall while Yoongi puts the condom on. You can feel his eyes on you, observing the way he makes you fidget and squirm.
You get too comfortable lying there in your own thoughts. The sensation between your thighs catches you off guard. 
“Ooh, shit Yoongi!”
Your body reacts the instant his dick rubs against your clit. You’re already worked up and ready to be filled, but Yoongi doesn’t want to skip the foreplay.
“Damn, it’s wet.”
He rubs the tip over your crevice, taunting you each time he passes your entrance. Just when you think he’ll slide in, he moves up to your throbbing clit and repeats.
“Please stop teasing,” you beg.
Yoongi laughs. “Why should I?”
“Because—”
You begin to whine and complain, but your words get stuck in your throat when Yoongi suddenly enters your pussy.
“Oh my god.”
Your wetness allows him to slide in easily, but your body wasn’t prepared to take him all at once. 
You grip your sheets for support, but the initial shock of him moving so quickly takes almost a minute to subside. 
Yoongi’s patient, giving your body time to adjust before he worries about pleasure. His thumb slowly massages your clit, getting you to relax under his touch. When your grip on the sheets finally loosen, he makes tiny strokes to test the waters.
“Good now?” he asks.
“Mhm.”
With your approval, he positions himself over you and fucks you a little deeper. Once he finds the perfect rhythm, he moves your right leg and places it on his shoulder. 
You’re already moaning loudly, not caring who hears. You cry out everytime his dick digs into your cervix, exploring places you never knew could be reached. 
You’ve begged guys to go deep, but they’ve always been scared to test their limits. Not Yoongi; he’s giving you everything he has, and even though you’re barely holding onto your sanity, you’d probably cry if he stopped.
“Take that damn shirt off,” he growls, gripping the giant t-shirt draped over your body.
You almost can’t figure out how to get it off, but by a miracle you manage. Now completely naked, you toss the clothing aside and start groping your tits while you lift your hips to meet his thrusts. You thought Yoongi would enjoy watching you, but he’s not impressed.
“Who told you to touch yourself?” he presses.
You don’t answer quickly enough for him. Honestly, you weren’t going to reply because your mind is so far away that his words just drift through your ears.
A hand around your throat snatches you back to real time. He’s pissed, biting his lip and trying not to spill his load before he’s ready.
“Answer me.”
This time you speak up immediately. “No one.”
“Hm. So you just do what you want?”
The sound of his deep voice mixed with the sound of your slapping skin and squelching juices turns you on beyond explanation. That familiar tension starts to build in the pit of your stomach, informing you of what’s soon to follow.
“I don’t like rules, Yoongi.”
“Oh, you will,” he promises.
Yoongi’s thrusts get stronger, making your body shift towards the top of the bed. He somehow keeps you in place using the hand he has wrapped around your neck, but you’re still being bounced around like a ragdoll.
“Since you don’t like it, I’ll finish up and leave.”  His movements suddenly become faster, and it doesn’t take you long to figure out what he’s implying. “You can make yourself cum, right?”
“What?” you shriek. “No!”
His laughter resonates through your bedroom as he mocks your desperation. You try reaching between your legs, attempting to induce an orgasm yourself but he forbids.
“Uh-uh.” 
He pushes your hand away and pins your wrist to the mattress, leaving you with no other resort.
“Yoongi, I wanna cum. Don’t be an asshole.”
“Better watch what comes out of your mouth then.”
You groan, realizing he’s too stubborn to give in. He’s not bluffing; he’d actually leave you stuck. 
You can taste the pleasure on your tongue. You’re so close, but Yoongi’s thrusts are starting to become wild. If you don’t give him what he wants, you won’t get what you crave.
“Tell me now…” he grunts, lust oozing from his lips. He leans forward, pushing your leg to your chest as he tries to come closer. The coolness of his chains pressed against your feverish skin brings you a little relief, but it’s not nearly enough. “You sorry?”
Fuck.
“I am.”
He chuckles. “I know.”
Yoongi’s thumb then wipes the single tear rolling down your cheek. Your body’s restless and seeking some relief from all the tension building inside your core. 
He finally slows down, pacing himself so he’s no longer ahead of you in the race to ecstasy. His finger gently tugs at your bottom lip, silently asking you to relax your jaw.
“You’re mine, right?”
You nod. “Yeah.”
“Good... Now open.”
Gauging your reaction, he smirks when you don’t oblige. You stick out your tongue, waiting for what you already expected.
Yoongi spits directly into your mouth, and you don’t even flinch. You look into his eyes as you close and swallow. He’s pleased when you reveal that nothing’s left when you open again.
“Good girl. Good fucking girl,” he moans, repositoning himself.
Whatever he says after that is lost between his swearing and muffled cries as he presses his lips against your leg. He slowly picks up his speed this time, allowing the heat to fill up inside of you before he drills you like before.
“Fuck, you feel so good.”
“You too, Yoongi.”
You’re desperate for more tension, but you’re afraid you’ll be punished if you chase it yourself.
“More, please.”
“More?”
“Please…”
“I got you,” he assures.
Without another word, his thumb finds your clit. His name rolls off your lips over and over, surely traveling far outside your bedroom. Your body tenses aside from your fist pounding the bed. 
“Cumming!”
You can hardly breathe, air getting trapped in your lungs as his hips snap violently into yours. Your back arches as a wave of pleasure hits you like a ton of bricks. Your cries begin to fade away and all you can hear is your rapid heartbeat erupting through your ears.
Yoongi doesn’t let up, giving you his all until your body slowly falls back on you. He then pulls out and peels the condom off of his pulsing cock. As soon as it’s freed, he releases his hot seed onto your skin—painting your stomach and breasts white and sticky.
Both of you stay where you are, panting and struggling to catch your breaths.
You can see Yoongi through your heavy eyelids, slumped over and exhausted from everything he’s given in the past few minutes. His hair hangs over his eyes, but you know he’s just staring at your pussy, replaying everything that just happened in his mind.
“Yoongi?”
“Hm?” He snaps out of it at the sound of your voice, gently lowering your leg before he crawls toward you.
You feel like you’re melting when he kisses your lips. It's almost like a dream being this close to him again. Even after so long you remember the way he smells, the way he breathes… You remember everything like it was yesterday.
“You’re so perfect,” he whispers against your skin.  lips make one final journey over your body, kissing every inch of you and not caring about the taste of his cum staining your flesh. He gives you endless compliments and praises, making you bury your face in your pillows. “I can’t forget to taste you.”
“Wait!” you gasp when he spreads your pussy and devours you.
Your sensitive clit throbs in his mouth as he slurps up all your juices. Your body is limp by the time he’s done, eyes nearly shut and your mind shut down for the rest of the night.
“Goodnight, sweetheart,” he mumbles into the darkness.
Whatever he says next is a mystery because your tiredness ultimately puts you into a deep slumber.
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“I’m so fucking stupid.”
You groan as the sun pierces your eyes. Throughout the craziness of last night, you forgot to bring your phone to bed with you. Now, you’ll have to walk and—
Or you can ask Yoongi.
With that in mind, you roll over and unfortunately find an empty bed.
Of course, he left last night. He was probably out of the door as soon as you shut your eyes. You can only hope it’s because he has work to do and he’s not avoiding you after everything you talked about. You won’t even let your mind go there.
Instead, you get out of bed and stumble to the living room—finding your phone on the coffee table right where you left it. You’re still getting notifications as you pick it up; most from Kaci, one from another employee, but nothing from Yoongi.
Before you make your daily morning phone call to your dad, you text back that server regarding time off, and see what Kaci’s fussing about.
6:58am Kaci: BITCH YOU’RE STILL AT HOME!? 
7:10am Kaci: you so got fucked last night. i want all the detail STAT heaux
You roll your eyes. She won’t be getting anything other than the usual shoulder shrug. Last thing you need is for her to make a scene every time Yoongi’s in the room. 
7:23am You: omw. please cover for me.
7:23am Kaci: already am. get some ‘good morning’ dick sis
“I swear I wanna kill this girl sometimes,” you sigh.
Before you can leave the messaging app, your phone rings. The number isn’t saved so you answer it with caution.
“Hello?”
It’s Yoongi.
“Hey, what’s up?”
You hope he doesn’t hear the puff of air you let out as relief washes over you. You were sure you’d lost him again after the things you did and said to each other during the heat of the moment. Not like you didn’t mean everything you said, but you aren’t sure if he did.
“Nothing, just late for work. What’s up with you?”
“Not much right now. I might go home and catch some sleep,” he replies. “Your car’s outside, by the way.”
“Really?” You walk over to the window and open the blind, shocked when you see your car parked in front of your house. “How did you…”
“I told them I was taking it as collateral.”
“What?!”
Yoongi laughs. “I’m kidding.”
If he was standing next to you, you’d punch him. You don’t know how you fall for it every single time.
“I have my ways. Just um… do me a favor?” he asks.
“Yeah, anything.”
“I think my phone’s somewhere in your house. Can you check later?” 
You look around to see if maybe you can spot it but it’s nowhere in plain view. 
“I know you’re already late so…”
“Oh, yeah. For sure,” you respond. “If you want, you can stop by and look. The spare key is in the same spot it’s always been.”
“It’s cool. I’ll wait until you’re off work.”
“That works.”
Both of you stay silent, waiting on the other to speak. You realize you should be getting ready for work so you decide to end the call.
“Well, I have to get ready so… I’ll text this number later?”
Yoongi clears his throat before he answers. “Yeah, it’s a burner but I’ll get the message.”
“Kay. Bye then.”
“Hey,” he calls out before you can hang up.
“Yeah?”
“Still mine?”
A smile grows on your face, and you don’t try to stop it. You didn’t want to bring it up, but you were definitely still thinking about last night, wondering what it would mean today.
But you can’t let him have what he wants so easily, can you?
“Maybe,” you tease.
There’s a pause, but when Yoongi does speak his tone grows dark.
“You still haven’t learned, have you?”
You smirk. “I suppose I haven’t.”
“Well, then. I guess I’m coming over later.”
Shit.
If you didn’t think the restaurant would burn to the ground without your presence, you’d tell him to get his ass over here now. The mere thought of a repeat of last night has you clenching your thighs together.
No working late tonight. You’re sure it’ll be slow anyway.
“I guess you are.”
“I’m not being nice this time either,” he warns.
You bite your lip, trying to conceal your excitement, but you’re really bursting at the seams. You’re sure you’ll be anticipating his visit all day, letting your mind flood with scenarios. You decide to go ahead and taunt him some more, adding fuel to the already roaring fire.
“Good. Neither am I.”
He begins to speak but you end the call before he can get it out. 
As you stand in your living room giggling, a wave of nostalgia hits you. You remember he’d do the same to you after you’d complain about something silly. You’d be pissed, so the thought of him tasting his own medicine puts you in the lead on your imaginary scoreboard.
You’ve probably done a lot more that got on his nerves in the past, but who’s counting? It’s your job to push each other’s buttons and make up.
Isn’t that what friends are for?
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hope everyone enjoyed !!! let me know what you think !
1K notes · View notes
liveyun · 4 months
Text
𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐃𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐑 | MYG (m)
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title. predator
summary. “Do you realize how dangerous this is? You're tempting me— you're tempting yourself to start something we both possibly don't want to know the consequences of.”
pairing(s). yoongi x female reader (oc)
genre. gangster au, smut
warnings. kidnäpping but not much of its descriptions, corruption and weapons, double thoughts, an..gst? , explicit warnings under the cut :)
wc. 7.8k+
a/n 1 : if you feel like some parts feel familiar to you, it's because this was previously posted in my old blog around a year ago which was inspired by ‘that that’. but this is a newly written and re-edited one :)))
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taglist | main masterlist
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smut warnings : masturbation(f), voyeurism and mentions of exhibitionism, fantasizing, dirty talk , slight humiliation, pet names teasing, chains and gloves 😗 , so much of teasing dear lord, bondage 🫣 , gagging with panties, bondage, oral (f. and allusions to m.) and fingering (f), finger sucking and squirting :D
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“ f..fuck..”
Your eyes screw shut just the moment you feel your fingers working against the fabric of your clothed cunt, your wetness increasing with each flick of your fingers to your throbbing clit. You draw in a sharp breath, feeling your pussy clench around nothing as your moments get a bit faster, feeling your slick pool around your entrance. It's your fingers who are working, but in your mind, those ring clad fingers are the ones touching you. Pleasing you.
The feeling of your panties being the barrier is very much uncomfortable, you need to take that off to feel yourself completely.
You harshly pull your panties down your legs, feeling the cool air hitting your slick heat, making you shudder as you hiss in anticipation. You can't deal with this anymore, you need to do something. Or else you'd completely go insane thinking about that man.
It just happened like a daydream. A few days ago, you can guess, flying away like hours.
You wake up to a strong headache with your vision being blurred and watery. A pair of black Jordan shoes tapping the floor, in slow motions, comes to your sight, as if waiting for something to come is all that you could see at that moment with dots growing in your vision. The moment you feel a bit more awake, your whole body aches so bad, it feels as if you've been trashed up.
Your whole body feels as wobbly as jelly all over. Whimpering, you try to move slightly, but fail with a broken sigh. That's when you feel a strong arm wrapping around your figure, hauling you up swiftly, and you let out a small gasp at the action. Your head spins at the sudden movement as you squeeze your eyes shut. Your breathing was strained as your chest heaves up and down, trying to gulp as much oxygen as you could. You realize that you're no longer lying on the floor, but rather. . .a firm, clothed chest, which rose and fell with each breath, as you felt the thrum of heartbeats resonating in your own eardrums with each second that ticked by. Your eyes fly open at the simple realization that you were being hugged by someone, and that someone smelled like the subtle notes of lavender with a delicate undertone of citrus.
Your cheeks heat up when you realize how attractive you find this and how much your tired body seeks for the comfort his warm body provides you in the simple embrace. You want this small moment of comfort to last a bit longer, as you try to snuggle in, but the guy seems to have different plans. He yanks your fragile body away from his own, snatching away the small warmth you had, a whine building up in your throat in exhaustion.
You don't dare to open your eyes which feel as if they're burning with hot tears, but you do feel the strong gaze piercing into your skull as you feel yourself still being in his embrace, him still holding you with a single strong arm wrapped around your waist.
His unrelenting embrace felt sensitive on your skin as your muscles feel tight and sore, and you try to wriggle around a bit. Your limbs protest with pain the longer you stand on both of them, knees close to be giving up. You struggle to stay awake and not surrender to the lull of pain and tiredness which wants you to.
You don't know where you are, or how you came here, but you surely know, you can surely feel that the room, or wherever you stand is freezing cold. Suddenly, the oppressive and eerie silence was shattered by a sudden and chilling sensation.
A cold, metallic object pressed against your chin, and your eyes once again flew open with your heart racing,realizing that it was the barrel of a gun.
Your eyes can only pass away the unshed tears which had accumulated, soon finding yourself so close to a mass of silky but messy black hair, and you realize that you've been pulled back to your kidnapper’s embrace.
It felt suffocating how his alluring scent still clouded your senses, now sending them to a hayware as you take in the close proximity. You feel his grip on you tightening, his malevolent breath hot on your ear. A sinister, deep whisper slithered into your consciousness,
“Don't even think about it.”
As if you could.
Your fingers flick lightly against your heat, right above the protective skin of the sensitive pearl. Sharp gasps leave your mouth, feeling the pleasure build in your lower stomach the more you work on your delicate parts.
You were sure you were trembling on the table you were seated with your legs spread wide open, your viscous arousal dripping down to the table and making a mess on it. Would he love that it's all because of him?
Gods, if anyone enters the room without any notice of your position, the first thing they'd capture is your bare, pulsing cunt. But you were way too turned on to think straight or think about the possible consequences. Or did it rather turn you on? You didn't know.
A thin layer of sweat covers your almost nude body, your breasts heaving out with each breath and nipples begging to be touched, pebbled by the cool air and pleasure. But you're way too desperate to do that yourself- your mind screamed his name, physically unable to make any noises. Him, him, him.
“Ask no questions and be good. No harm would be done to you if you cooperate.”
His voice was laced with nonchalance, yet emerging as a sultry whisper with a slight rasp. He puts down your worn out figure to a black, slightly worn out couch, which seemed hard and dull with the appearance, yet it was more comfortable than the hard floor you had been lying on for what your spine told were hours.
You nervously squirm under his strong and unrelenting gaze, thinking that he’s implying your desire to escape from here. But much to your horror, or even delight, you are already craving the gush of the odd warmth he provided you, even if that was for a second. You gulp down your saliva, feeling your almost cracked throat ache in the process.
Your stomach churns at how wrong yet right this feels with your morals flying off the horizon, yet, a part of you asks if the ‘morals’ you were taught were actually morals, or were just ideals.
He passes you a bottle of water, sliding it towards you on the table as he keeps down the shotgun, followed by a small ‘click’ at the metal touching the wood. Your heart nearly pops up at the sight of how worn out it looks, the metal shining under the room's lighting almost looks dangerous.
The luster it holds reminds you that something as used and small could be just as dangerous regardless of how worn out it could be.
“But if you don't cooperate, this gun won't, too.”
You ought to be shivering at the tone he uses, and a part of you does. Despite the blood chilling threat, an unexpected thrill course through your exhausted veins, finding your kidnapper's dark charisma strangely alluring.
Your pupils fix on his right hand which still holds the gun. To make sure the gun wouldn't accidentally fire, he gently pushed the safety switch on the side of the gun to the "on" position.
It was a small, reassuring click that meant the gun couldn't shoot, even if he accidentally squeezed the trigger. You, or anyone else would be surprised at your knowledge about the parts of a gun but you'd rather think about your father’s ignorance of the specific part your kidnapper was cautious enough to push at the specific moment.
You were too exhausted to think that you were only eight when you first saw a similar gun lying on the coffee table, left open by no one but your father.
Your breathing is back to somewhat normal now. What actually clouds your senses is how you're obliged to agree that a man so beautiful like him, you had seldom encountered any in your limited time you were given access to freedom, back home. Yet, it surprises you that he's not some affluent multi-millionaire but a gangster or rather, a predator.
His fingers are pale and slender, with rings full on display. Following the veins of his wrist were shiny black bracelets and shell bands on top. You'd think that the color contrasts his beautiful pale skin so dramatically, if you'd stare at it enough it's gonna feel like a painting to you. Your eyes never quit checking him out silently as he sternly tells you that if you tried escaping, it won't be good for you.
From head to toe, you try to be subtle, but you cannot deny now when you'd hear your friends talk about what power the attraction towards a man holds. A small part of you wished if he could catch you checking him up, if he'd know your yearning for him.
How good would his fingers feel inside you ?
The thought alone makes your pussy gush out more arousal, your free hand toying with your hardened nipples as you moan quietly, or you try to.
You know that he would be around nearby, just to make sure you're not escaping..but you had no plans for that. You are already familiar that he's not idle enough to be camping by the cabin the whole day, and you're straight up delusional to think that the nightly visits (?) are for you.
You silently hope and pray that no one comes to rescue you sooner, because going back meant you could no longer be around him, and you'll no longer be free as you are now, as ironic that seems.
The irony intensifies because you trust him more than you trust your own father who was however on the verge to sell you off for his own benefit, for money. At times you'd wish to normally see Yoongi, not as some hostage and your abductor. So far, his men have been good, providing you food and water, and even some drinks to keep you going. You could be even proud of yourself to befriend one of them, or well, to have the goon talk to you if that is considered as befriending. They're all bark and no bite, you think, because they try a bit too hard to play even at times when you ask them for a silly stroll outside.
And if that was all, you'd happily agree to live with Yoongi. the man who seemed ice cold at the touch of eyes, but you knew he had much more for you to explore. You already know that a calm man like him gets enraged at the push of his extremes, and that leaves you pondering.
What would he actually be when his inner self is leashed out, as he pins you to the wall, hot bodies pressed against each other?
Would he bend you over the same table you're fucking yourself on?
Shit. It feels so wrong, but why does it feel so good? You're tormenting your enlarged clitoris in tight circles, feeling more and more slick drip down your hole. You cry out a silent plea, feeling the coil in your lower tummy twist harder with every flick, every touch to your delicate heat.
“Ahn..” you whimper pathetically, suddenly picturing his slender fingers working on your cunt instead of yours. His tongue which often he struck out to wet his lips..would lick your cunt lik—
Before you know it, your eyes roll back to your head, the coil in your tummy snapping into two. A loud moan of Yoongi leaves your throat, feeling your clitoris throb even harder with your orgasm. You shut your eyes close as pure waves of pleasure hit you in the form of white, pleasure so intense that you're seeing dots in your vision. You've never come so hard before like this, feeling your hole clench helplessly around nothing.
You cease your moments when you feel yourself jerk with overstimulation at a certain flick and you know it's time to stop.
Shame washes over you as you straighten up your back to a better position.
Fuck.
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Yoongi was confused.
Or a bit concerned, even. It was nearly midnight when he was passing beside your cabin, already sure of you being well looked after. It was a small whimper which caught his notice and in the very first place it took him aback. He wondered what happened.
Though he had the most trusted men working under him, no one could ever know anything until something really happened. You can't risk anything. Worry itching in his veins, he advanced forward to the closed window of your cabin and listened closely. A string of profanities was all that he could hear, causing him to furrow his brows. Were you in pain ?
You weren't the target looked out for, merely just a bait. He did not want you to suffer, even if he knows that his men couldn't understand it at first when they bought you here. Even if he knows that he can’t explain it to you, he silently hopes that his further behavior could do that.
This was the reason why he immediately opened the door and the sight in front of him made his throat dry.
His eyes widened so slightly to see you spread out nude like an eagle on the table, your small hand pinching your erect nipples. Your head was lolled back and mouth hung open, occasionally the sweetest moans leaving your parted lips. his pupils shook violently to avoid travelling south and what he should absolutely not see. You were so desperately trying to get off, and he knew he should exit right away.
Fuck. He was definitely not a creep. Heat creeped up to his neck and cheeks at the realization and he turned back to leave.
Yoongi.
His name. You moaned his name and that upon reaching his ears, he needed to think. twice, thrice. With his head. the one on his neck, not with the one inside his pants, which twitched awake to life. He felt his heartbeat resonating in his own ears, and that left him feeling a single thing. Needy. He gulped, feeling his stomach churn with arousal and at the same time a gut feeling of this being wrong, and he couldn't think straight.
You let out a high pitched screech of his name with a strong of fuckfuckfuck, and he knew that you had already reached your orgasm. His cock now strained hard against the material of his pants, and Yoongi has to fight back a guttural groan from breaking free.
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“You’re a lot more flexible than I thought.”
You freeze, your breathing labored as you recognise the voice. Fucking fuck. Blood reaches upto your cheeks as you peer up slightly with shock and embarrassment, shame doubling over inside you. You see him, Yoongi manspreading on the old couch opposite to you with a nasty smirk painted on his handsome features.
Had he been watching you?
You blink, feeling your whole body burn with embarrassment. You'd realize that if he did, he heard you doing sinful things to yourself while moaning his name. You were supposed to be scared of him, he even once held you at gunpoint, but you're not even a tad bit scared of him.
You feel oddly safe with him, around him, even if you're sitting naked and vulnerable infront of him. Maybe it's a bad idea to be so comfortable. He's not as crazy as you. How embarrassing, you consciously and immediately shut your legs close, shrinking under his strong gaze, cheeks warm and throat dry.
You gulp in nervousness, his expressions remain stoic but his eyes shine with amusement. You feel a bit too self conscious now, hoping to find your shirt where you last left it. But your eyes betray you, vision trailing down to his hands, clad with fingerless gloves which rests at his meaty, thick thighs clad with black leather pants. His manspreading has you gazing directly on his crotch area, and fucking hell.
He's girthy.
His hard-on does tell you that maybe he's been looking at you for quite a long time..
Your face heats up more if possible as your eyes succumb up to his face, an open mouthed, cocky smirk evident in his features. He cocks a brow at you, narrowing his eyes slightly.
“I’ll take it that you like what you see.”
Fuck. Fuck.
You did. You really did, and much to your horror you feel your clit throb with arousal once again.
“What if it was someone else other than me who heard you? Did you really like putting up a show like that ? ”
a deep chuckle left his throat, his voice much deeper than you've heard it to be. Or maybe you're just hallucinating.
“ tsk, tsk tsk. moaning my name so loudly in the middle of the night. Are you so okay with your moans waking everyone up, kitten?”
Fuck. Your hole pulses with arousal at his words and you're unable to answer him. Kitten. The nickname makes your insides go jelly, heart thumping loudly in your chest.
Yet, just sitting up properly and lowering your head is all that you can do, biting down on your bottom lip. You're inappropriately horny for him, and the shameless arousal which spikes inside you knowing that he's just as aroused like you makes you dizzy. If you're being honest, you can't care about anyone else when he's around. You blame it on the bubbling lust inside you.
He can be intimidating, he is intimidating, but for sure no one has made you feel this safer than he does, ironically being your kidnapper. You feel cozy inside a cabin rather than the luxurious bungalow you've spent your whole life till now in.
You're crazy, because maybe a wrong move from your side and you'll lie lifeless on this same floor with no one to give a fuck. That's how it usually works.
Yet, you want to take the risk. You do want to fall prey to the predator.
Suddenly, you feel a harsh tug at your chin, your cheeks squished together and your lips painfully rounded to a pout. You feel the leather of the glove of his palm directly in contact with your chin, cradling your face. Your shaking eyes meet his own, calm but burning eyes, and he almost lets out a growl. a guttural growl that almost has you feeling fresh arousal heat up your pussy.
“Speak when you're being spoken to. "
His face is so close to your own that it almost feels heaven to see him this close. His black hair is no longer slicked back, but now open and it parts beautifully on his forehead, long enough to reach his nape. His thick eyebrows are slightly furrowed, and wooden brown eyes were darker than you'd have seen them. They're blown out, the dim lighting of the room merging the brown of his iris to the black of his pupil into a whole dark mass.
You're so close that if you could, you could count the number of pores on his flawless, pale skin, which always seemed like no expensive skincare could afford such a glow. Even in a situation like this, it almost makes you feel as if you're bound under his spell, a spell which has your body going lax and sanity leaving you in an instant.
His grip on you is firm, but not harsh. He makes sure it's not too much. but however it makes him feel slightly different, slightly more confused to see nothing but admiration in your own blown out eyes and it makes him frown.
Why would you look at him with such a gaze? He's not dumb. He knows that look. With his free hand he brings his fingers close to his forehead, pinching the bridge of his nose, frowning with his lips sealed tightly. Almost hiding a groan inside his throat, he chastises,
“I don't think you understand that I can kill you anytime with the same hands which you seem to be very fond of.”
It's a subtle warning he tries to jeer. He knew as much as he wanted this, you wanted this more. But after this would be done, things maybe won't be the same.
He got no response back, which silently pissed him more. He wanted you to speak. He wanted you to confirm that it's not a delusion. He wanted you to say it out loud. He didn't know if feeling this way towards your hostage could be rational, but lust can make you feel a lot— and he didn't know if this was right.
Squeezing your cheeks a bit more harsher this time, his right hand traveled down slowly, tracing an invisible path on your skin, leaving sparks of desire behind its wake. You feel your pussy ache with need, nipples pebble up and you nearly stifle a whimper.
His hand reaches for your knee, in such a soothing manner, prying it open that so are your legs. But it doesn't advance any further. It just rests on your heated, damp flesh, almost as if hesitant to move forward.
Your face heats up when you feel his touch ignite a passion in you and you feel a gush of your arousal trickle down your thighs. Fuck, you honestly did not expect that the touch of the cool leather could burn your skin to hell. Given that the hand belongs to Yoongi, you’re nearly gone. You're forced to look at him directly as he's still holding your face and his gaze is no longer icy.
They hold a certain glint you assume as softness, the ridges of his eyebrows no longer tight. Yet his feline gaze remains so firm that it has you feeling your heart course a foreign sensation that you could grasp as....shyness. Slowly, you feel just his fingertips on your knee run forward to the flesh of your inner thighs, testing you. Teasing you.
You're going to go insane.
“Pweash..” a whine escapes your puckered lips even before you know it. He only seems subtly pleased, opting to gently stroke the flesh of your inner thighs. Gods, the touch of leather. Did he really have to do this? Your hole clenches helplessly, having him toy with you so close to where you need him the most.
“What was that?” he lets go of his hand cradling your face, and suddenly snakes his arm to your nude waist and pulls you close. So close that you'd look at him, your noses will touch. Close enough to feel his breath fanning on your cheeks, close enough to have his fingers toying with your thighs dance near the skin of your dripping heat. Close enough to have your bare chest press against his own clothed one.
You huff slightly, both in slight ache in your cheek muscles and frustration of how smug he is.
“ Please, Yoongi.. ”
The smugness in his face disappears and the arm on your waist tightens. Yet, he makes no move to inch forward towards your aching center, and you're really lured to push your hips down to his hands, for anything. To relieve the ache. You don't know what he's thinking right now, but the seriousness on his face— laced with that deep voice of his — is a huge turn on for you, and you're shameless to admit it.
“Do you realize how dangerous this is?You're tempting me— you're tempting yourself to start something we both possibly don't want to know the consequences of,” his voice is oddly cold as his gaze remains fixed on your own. His voice sounds. . . uncertain, somehow, but not hesitant.
“Do you not want this?” you ask him, your voice small as you suddenly realize that the cabin is beginning to get colder and colder. His head drops down, his hold on you slightly wavering, but nevertheless still there— and he shakes his head. Almost as if he's trying to convince himself about his own inner questions. As if he's denying them all.
“I don't fuck around with people I'm not supposed to fuck around with.” his voice is laced with a questioning tone, you notice, and his fingers resting on your inner thighs twitch. “You. . . you're just being used as bait.”
“I know.” you ache to cradle his face in your hands, but then you realize that it maybe is a bit more intimate than you'd think. He looks dejected at you knowing the information, about the possibility that maybe your own father won't spare your life. Now or later, it's perhaps inevitable that he'd suspect you being not liable enough about his family business secrets, and he'd get a way out. To have you removed from his path.
“Why. . .?”
His expressions morph to one of despair, and his eyebrows furrow. He was so fucking confused that why'd he be so affected by something as common as that. He knows it's not something odd for patriarchal leaders killing members of their own families just for the sake of their business— he has seen a lot of them through the course of years. And what hit him in the chest was how casual you were about it— almost as if you were aware of your family’s intention all along.
He did not know why whatever he felt inside his chest for you was oddly soft, something he strictly banished himself to feel. He could not. He had no room for softness inside him. no fucking way. He tried ignoring it, but as days turned to weeks, he knew that he subconsciously broke his own rule.
“What why?” you tilt your head in confusion.
“Why are you so cool about it?”
“It is what it is.”
“You don't reali—”
“I fucking do. I fucking want you, Min Yoongi. I fucking want to stay with you. Please.” his eyes widen and you see his pupils shake and the gears inside his brain rotate.
“I do realize that you've never ever taken the responsibility of a person on your own shoulders. Your team is capable enough to take care of themselves, and you perhaps are thinking that I,” He sighs at your words, shaking his head and pressing his lips to a straight line in a grimace.
He's considering everything, not because of you or him, but for both of you. For the future.
Your thumb caressed the subtle hints of a stubble on his chin, no longer feeling the pull to stay quiet. Not when you've finally got the chance to be. “...that I possibly can't do that,”
“Even if you do, you must know that there's no going back. No looking bac—”
“No looking back, Yoongi. I got it.”
You bring forward your hands to cup his warm cheeks within your palms. His eyes widen and his mouth parts slightly, and you'd almost think it to be impossible for a dangerous, intimidating gangster like him to be so adorable. Your hands travel to his nape, where the silver jewelry rests, carefully running your fingers on the edgy metal patterns.
Your face falls at the silence and the stoic countenance you're met with.
The way his heart thumped inside his chest at your words was enough of an evidence to him, but he knew it could be just another dangerous game. He has never been with any woman he's kept hostage over the years— and he'd thought it wouldn't be his first time.
He wants to believe you— he wants to believe the honesty and innocence reflected in your eyes, but there's that part of his brain which has learnt the harder way. Yoongi knows that a single mistake and his whole group would be hustled to the blazes of the vermillion.
“Why are you doing this?” his eyes bore into your own, two pools of endless obsidian, threatening to shallow you in the mysterious depths of them.
His hand near your thigh caresses further your neglected heat, and you jolt at the sudden touch. His face inches closer to you, once again, so daringly close that once again you can make out how fierce his eyes seem right now. His warm breath falls on your now sweat dried skin near your cheeks, and there's a spike in your heartbeat.
He expects an answer, you know that he's not going to say that out loud, and the leather of his glove on the skin of your thigh feels rather soft. Your gulp down a mouthful of air, preparing to say something out loud which you haven't ever.
“It's because I. . . I want to live. I want to be set free.”
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“Hnngh!!”
Some few moments ago, you were almost lured into thinking that you'll call it a night.
You felt like the gangster mode was switched off after your conversation, but he'd warned you that the conversation wasn't over yet. You'd breathed down a sigh of half relief and half wonder, pondering over how an act like. . .such, escalated to something you'd craved for. Embarrassment to confession.
But when his gloved pointer brushed the innermost skin of your thigh, your eyes widened as wide as saucers, looking up to him, who already had an open mouthed smirk painted on his face, almost as if he's amused.
“So how do you want me to fuck you?”
His crude words had a fresh wave of arousal pulsing out of you, and you'd gasped silently, accidentally batting your lashes at him. He'd groaned out loud, once again grabbing your face and pulling you close till his soft lips brushed over your own parted ones.
“Wasn’t that what you actually wanted, princess? Me to fuck you dumb?” you should've known that he indeed had a dirty mouth, but estimating how much it made your cunt throb and gush, you'd known that you didn't want him to stop. You'd moaned at his words, silently nodding furiously like a pathetic bitch.
“Did I or did I not tell you to speak when you're spoken to?” he'd growled right at your face, an arm snaking around your waist once again. His eyes had trailed down to your exposed breasts, and the hand on your waist had trailed closer to the swell of your boob. He'd licked his lips at the sight, but made no further move which had you squirming for his touch.
“Please Yoongi, please touch me. .”
A pleased smile had taken over his features at your pleas.
“Flashing these tits right on my face and then asking me nicely. Who am I to deny? Whatever princess wants, princess gets.”
And with that, he'd dipped down to your breasts, your back immediately arching up to his greedy mouth where he'd toyed with your hard nips till your breasts were spotted with blooming purple marks.
But right now, your throat already feels dry crying out his name repeatedly as you can only see the dark mass of raven hair peeking in between your thighs, tickling you over and over as his skilled mouth brings you closer and closer to a blinding climax.
Your eyes are glossy and your nipples hurt as how erect they are, but you cannot do anything about it. Your arms are restrained with the leather of Yoongi’s belt digging into your flesh, and the slight pain intensifies the sparks of pleasure traveling up your body from down your cunt.
You squirm with a muffled whine, eyes burning with tears at how many times your already sensitive cunt was brought closer to a teeth clashing orgasm, only to have it denied by him. He'd raise his head to look up at you, his lips shiny with spit and your arousal, absolutely smug about how his tongue alone has you fucked up completely. His gloved hands would stroke the sensitive skin of your inner thighs, gently bringing them closer to your sensitive clitoris.
His thumb would gently circle around the protective skin covering your nub and you'd muffle a needy moan, unable to speak because you'd riled him up so bad, he had to shove your panties down your mouth with a growl and a promise that when he's done with you, you won't be even able to hobble well.
Fuck, you were shameless to admit that him being in charge and asking you each time whether the belt hurt you, or did you really like that, made your pussy gush out more and more for him to devour it all up.
His tongue flicks right on the top of your clit, and your back arches like the nth time off the table at how light headed the pleasure is making you feel. You feel like combusting , but also, not quite yet with how his touches are intense but gentle. You're now on the edge to burst out to the sea of such a delicious torture of bliss— and you'd do anything for him to do it for you.
You grind your hips right on his face as his tongue laps down your arousal, sucking gently on your soaked folds as you feel your thighs shake with the little leeway he gives you. His nose nudges your clit and you shiver. His nose bumps against your flesh again, he's doing it exactly on purpose to have you writhing underneath him.
His face is flushed— hair sticking to his sweaty forehead and how dark his pupils are, you know that he's just as fucked as you are.
“This cunt is,” a lick to your soaked folds, the wet muscle nudging them open to dive in further, “fucking divine.” and he fucks his tongue right in, the vibration of his voice quivering through your body.
With a broken whine, you try to gyrate your hips to chase the immense euphoria he's bringing you, feeling your walls clench around his wet muscle. He fucks his tongue in a vicious manner, curling it up to touch the tips of your walls and fucking it back out; all whilst the plane of his nose rubs against your poor, tender clit with each commotion.
His tongue stills after he feels you grind against his face with a rough fervor and your velvety walls pulsate around his tongue. You whine at the loss of momentum, already having your peak being snatched away from you, once again.
His lips suck around your nether ones for a last, long caress and then parts away ; licking up his lips coated in your arousal and his spit, some of which dribbles down his chin. He's quick to collect them all using his fingers and hover over your figure; some of his dainty chains are long enough to brush over your bare clavicles, dangling over you.
His black shirt sticks to his body and you can almost figure out the planes of his body. It's completely unfair, you being completely naked and him being completely clothed. He seems to like the way you wiggle your hips underneath him, looking up at him with eyes you think you weren't capable of batting much.
Because he smirks at your fucked up, desparate expression and pushes away the long, sweaty strands of raven falling from his head to the side with his clean hands, and brings his soiled fingers to your lips.
“Taste yourself,” his voice has a rasp and you comply, opening up, only to have him push two of his fingers inside your warm cavern, having your panties dragged out. The material of the smooth leather with the viscous arousal wrapped around his slender fingers sits heavy on your tastebuds, and you immediately swirl your tongue to savor it more.
He groans, and immediately withdraws his fingers, now clean. His breathing is erratic as he leans down to steal a quick kiss from you, and you whine when you feel him pull away. He says nothing, but just whispers words of praise in your ears, mindful of your restraints. Your arms feel numb to move by the time he gently unbuckles the belt around your wrist, and he catches you off guard once again when he pulls you into a kiss, his tongue sneaking in between your gasps and tangling with yours.
Your heart beats erratically in your chest when he parts away from you, resting his forehead against yours.
“Gonna finger you now,” his voice is brisk with a pant at the end. His neck is flushed red, glistening with sweat with a slight pant. “Princess deserves the best of the night. Not just some fondling.”
Your face feels warm as you catch onto what he's referring to.
Once again, you find yourself laying down with a throb in your cunt, and him kneeling in between your spread legs to pepper soft kisses on the now dried, slightly damp thighs. When his tongue flickers on the sensitive skin, you jolt and struggle to get up on your elbows, because as much as you're enjoying this, it's a torture that he did not allow you to come at all.
Your cunt pulses and aches for him, but he seems to take his sweet time; softly passing his hands to stroke your flesh and mark them.
When a singular finger strokes the length of your soaked slit, your mouth falls open in a gasp. The leather of his gloves add to the friction as he drags his fingers in an up and down motion, spreading your arousal around. Yoongi is so keen on observing your cunt closely, and there's a desire inside you to tuck away the long, stray strand of his hair back. You're already inching your hand forward when his dark eyes snap up to yours, stopping you in your moments.
You don't even have the time to withdraw your hands when a pair of strong arms curl on the underside of your thighs and pull you forward, licking a stripe right above where his fingers are nested; and in no time you feel the plane of his tongue attacking your poor nub with kitten licks.
“God,” you gasp out loud, trashing your arms around to find any leverage as you fall flat on the table. Your fingers can only claw the edge of the table as his tongue passes over the slick of your skit with each lick, and the air is punched out of lungs the moment you feel two of his digits enter your slit with ease.
You feel his chuckle vibrate against you which goes straight to your clit. “No God will hear you out, doll.”
Fuck. Fuck. You can only arch your back in a broken moan of his name when you feel his fingers move inside of you, not yet thrusting, but curling up. It burns a bit, but the heady bliss is already making your head spin with the added slight pain. He raises his head up to see how fucked you already look, and he knows that all the edging has brought you so close already that he can feel your tight walls tighten impossibly tight around his fingers.
He feels his cock twitch in his pants, begging for attention when he notices your slick trickling down the material of his glove, right in between the joints of his fingers as he stays still.
“M-move, you can move..” the end of your sentence ends up in a whine as his fingers curl forward in full force, immediately finding the spongy area which has lights bursting behind your eyelids. He soons picks up the pace, his fingers thrusting in and out your cunt in a swift motion which has you gasping for his name.
The soft jagged edges of his glove brushes the walls of your pussy with each pump, and you've never ever felt so good during fingering without any clitoris stimulation. You'd tried that a few times, only to have you grumbling because of your much smaller digits and a need to have something more. And he's right there. Yoongi’s fingers, much thicker and longer than your own ones, feel delirious inside you.
“You’re so tight, princess,” Yoongi groans when he feels you tighten around him with each thrust, pushing you down to your impending orgasm with each pump, with each caress.
Your veins feel like they're on fire, your nipples aching to be touched, and so you do. Pulling them taut between your nimble fingers, your back bows off the table when Yoongi lunches down to close his pretty lips around your neglected clit. Oh fuck. . . ! That feels so fucking amazing, and you're sure you feel his fingers abuse that spot inside of you simultaneously, all while giving his attention to your burning flesh. You're so fucking close that you can taste your orgasm, and there's a slight rush thinking if he'd egde you this time too.
Your eyes shut close the moment his fingers go knuckles inside for a thrust and curls, and at once his lips suction around your clit, hard.
You're seeing Heaven.
You scream out when your orgasm washes over you, intensified with each you were denied off. Your back feels like it flew off the table as your orgasm dawn's down on you like an avalanche, sliding off all around your body in red hot euphoria as Yoongi’s speedy ministrations don't cease. You miss how audibly he moans out loud when a particular thrust inside your cunt has a gush of clear liquid squirting out, his mouth never leaving your now fully erect clit.
His tongue swirls around and sucks, while his fingers stroke the spot inside you. And this time when your hips gyrate up in full force to his face and he hears another scream of his name and a choking resistance to his fingers inside you, he knows that he's fulfilled his goal.
Your orgasm seems to hit you over and over, and over. Your abdominal muscles are dense by the time you feel yourself twitch with the aftershocks of your release, and dear fucking god. You've never come this hard in your life before, and you do know that the man between your legs is the reason.
You hoist yourself up to yourself up to your elbows to look at him who's half hovering over you, but oh god.
He's drenched.
His lower face glistens with moisture and his t-shirt looks like someone just shot him with a water gun, the damp material forming quite a big wet spot right below his collar. He's wide eyed, smirking with a breathy laugh which makes you want to curl up. Fucking hell. No wonder why your orgasm felt so blinding, and you can still feel his warm hands on your thighs, gently stroking your thighs with soft passes.
Oh god, you just squirted.
Yoongi made you squirt. Was that way too much? You don't even know! But for Yoongi, he's smiling as everything to him is riveting, of course.
You're about to hide your face in your palms when Yoongi stops you. His gloves felt damp on your skin, and when you peel your eyes open, he's so dangerously close. So close which makes your head spin and heart race, once again.
“That’s what a real orgasm is, princess. Don't be ashamed.” He helps you get up the table, your legs feeling like fresh pudding and thighs burning. He can only snort in amusement, when you pout at him. What's so funny?
“It was hot as fuck.”
“What?” face warm, you try to cover yourself to which Yoongi lazily raises a brow. He just points a finger to your parted legs. He. . .!
“You. Squirting. It was hot as fuck. Plus the screams were like cherry on the top,” he shrugs, almost as if he didn't fucking wreck you with just his skilled tongue and fingers. Your face burns up at how casually he says that, and before you can think, you blurt out, “You think so?”
“Mm.”
It's your turn to raise a brow. You don't feel scared of him anymore, not even when the post nut clarity is hitting you. You know what you two did, and there's no going back. You feel rather at ease with how he holds one of your palms and slings an arm around your waist to haul you down the table, and you know that this is your chance.
You drop down to your knees.
And now it's him who's wide eyed. His clothed erection stands right in front of your face, almost as if struggling to get out of the hard confines of his jeans. The dent looks promising in size, and you nearly poke out your tongue to give it a lick, but you refrain. You hear him inhale a sharp breath, his hand already coming down to your shoulder to hoist you up, but you swat his hands away.
“What. . .what are you doing?” his voice comes out in a slightly surprised tone, the rasp of it already making you impatient. How could he not pay attention to himself when he's himself so fucking hard? Your hands slowly grab his meaty thighs over his denims which tense under your touch. You lick your lips, purposefully batting your eyelashes when you peer up at him, trying to look as small as you can.
Trying to make him as good as he made you feel, but you doubt your inexperienced ass could do that.
“Can’t you see? Returning your favor.”
He looks torn. The crease in between his eyebrows tell that he's hesitant for this, and he doesn't like that bratty tone you'd just used. But the parted lips imparting short breaths tell otherwise. His reply comes rather quickly, “You don't have to.”
You were sure to be hallucinating, but you could see a small twitch to his length, and you immediately felt your nether gates flooding. Oh god. You must return the favour, then.
“I want to, Yoongi, would you let me, please?”
Completely naked, batting eyelashes, pretty face and tempting view of boobs. Nimble fingers tracing the pathway of his thighs, dangerously close to his aching cock. He did want you, but. . . fuck. . ! And not to deny the image he gets of you kneeling down in front of him, your toes facing outwards and ass purposefully wiggling out, Yoongi knows he's about to bust a nut. And that too, very soon.
Who the fuck is he to deny, then.
“Since you begged for it,” his hands reach to tuck a stray hair out of your beautiful face, feeling his abdominal muscles clench when your fingers brush against his length, he smiles with a shaky exhale.
“Go ahead and take what's yours.”
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a/n : soo~ what do we think? 🤒
—|→ if you enjoyed reading, don't forget to drop a reblog and/or a feedback if you'd like to~ it helps a lot with reach and motivation! <33
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orchidyoonkook · 5 months
Text
The Devil Wears Valentino | MYG
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Title: The Devil Wears Valentino  
Pairing: Devil!Min Yoongi x (F)!Reader
Rating//Genre: (M) | One Shot, Spooky AU, Supernatural Creatures AU, Not Quite Friends to Lovers, Age Gap, Technically Slice of Life, Angst, Smut and Fluff
Summary: Having known him for years—from a small mistake on your behalf, and a favour on his—you’re one of the only people he seems to be able to put up with for company. Certainly the only one he’s half-way decent with. But what���s more surprising to you is that despite his name, reputation, and the fact he’s always joked he’d have killed anyone else by this point, is that he’s never once tried to cause you harm. 
Actually, he’s almost…protective of you. In his own weird way.
And obnoxiously flirty.
Warnings: language, violence, tae is a menance, drinking and alcohol, Min Yoongi as the Devil -> Lucifer Morningstar? we dont know him, mentions of murder, mentions of torture, mentions of rape -> Sal's an ass and he deserved what he got, somewhat graphic gore/horror (yoon tries her best but she's not very good at spooky), slight POV switches, one (1) mention of reader having hair, fluffy in parts,
Explicit warnings under the cut.
Word Count: 10,488
Release Date: October 31, 2023, 12:00PM
A/N 1: Ahhhh! Welcome to my very first halloween special!!! I wanted to do something for my favourite holiday this year, and I've had this title written down without a plot for maybe just over a year? So I'm really excited to finally use it!!
A/N 1.5: Thank you to my absolute darling @katykatmeow for beta'ing this for me so late in the night. I adore you so much
A/N 2: The whiskey glass and whiskey are hand drawn vectors because I'm a glutton for punishment. Why do I keep doing this to myself.
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Explicit Warnings: ahaha uhhh, unprotected sex (dont be stupid) kissing, breast play, fingering, oral (f rec), groping, pet names (sickening amount), dirty talk, praise, slight degredation, hair pulling (m rec), spitting, handjob, body worship, cowgirl, from the back, missionary, a lil bit of crying, spanking, size kink, voice kink, hand kink (look, he's a lot okay, don't blame reader), sl*t/wh*re mentions, multiple orgasms, creampie, I think thats it? Yoon went a little bananas with this one.....
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Slow jazz floats through the air of the club, wading around the modestly-sized venue. You’d say it was almost cozy, but with the expensive feel of the place, cozy just didn’t seem like the right word. 
Intimate. That would be a better choice. 
From behind the bar where you stand, to the velvet couches in the back covered by decently dressed lesser demons, piano plays alongside gentle drums. Dark navy cushions soak in their conversation of effective torture methods, discussed like stock market trends, they dissect the best way to decapitate someone so you can instill the most pain and suffering. 
The answer is always with a dull knife and from the back, blindly. Never knowing when the next cut will be is half the agony. 
You try not to pay attention to that though, because the only thing you need to know is that they drink Vodka Tonics and lesser demon number four’s glass is looking to be on the emptier side.
He’ll be back for another soon.
While you wait for his arrival, the rhythmic notes continue on, gliding along shiny, black floor tiles. They pass the burgundy leather booths that face the stage, full of vampires trying to relive long lost youth in the old melodies played. They turn to stone just a little bit more with every passing minute they’re forced to live, keeping no company besides the pleasant burn down their throats and ever present melancholy. 
Banshees listen in from the mezzanine, only ever soft spoken when they’re here. Covered by velvet draped ceilings that dampen sounds to the outside world, the women of three distinct ages sit at tall tables. The young in heels and short dresses, proudly showing off their youth, while the elders choose more elegant wares, content as they can be in their skin, considering their blood soaked pasts. 
Banshees tend to discuss privately amongst themselves, ordering walk up service so as to never mingle with the men on the floor. You can’t blame them, especially knowing how they all got here in the first place, but they’re polite when they enter, greeting you kindly despite what you are to them. The trays you bring up for them never waver from their drink of choice, The Irish Sour.
And then there are the Djinn, who come in mostly just to pass the time. Sitting by themselves at the bar, or in no more than groups of two at a far table, they never interact with anyone other than the bartender or themselves. Djinn are increasingly solitary creatures of the night, with the fear of their kind lessening in mortals, you’re starting to see less and less of them as the days pass, and you’re almost sad to see them go. 
Djinn are your favourites. They come in, order, keep to themselves, and then leave. It’s a nice change from the usual light conversation you’re forced to keep with patrons. Plus their orders are always easiest, as they only drink virgin. It’s a bit of a blow to the bar aspect of the establishment, but they come for the atmosphere, grateful to have a place they can exist with like minded folk—even if they don’t interact. There’s a comfort in familiarity, you guess.
Occasionally some other creatures of the night mix into the masses; fae, chimera, leprechauns, goblins, et cetera. All dressed in their nicest clothes to accommodate your work's dress code, all here for peace from their day jobs, to drown their sorrows, or somewhere in between. 
Some come for an hour, others come for the night, but it’s mostly just your regulars who tend to remain, as do their drink orders. It’s a relatively easy job, and you don’t mind the company. 
Most of the time.
You’ve just finished serving the lesser demon from earlier when your coworker bugs you for the hundredth time tonight. 
“I don’t get why you're so hellbent on this, Y/N. If you’re closing, he’s coming. Because he always comes when you're closing. It’s simple math.”
“No he doesn't,” you dismiss Taehyung, a cocky but rather beautiful incubi, annoyedly. Taehyung is the type that knows he’s pretty and uses it to his every advantage, including being able to say whatever he wants and get away with it. And it would piss you off except it works on you too.
Fucking incubi demons…
You were one of only two mortal bartenders, the other being Lia, a cute blond who only works here for the tips. The boss likes to keep a couple humans on staff in case any wanderers stupid enough to come inside a den of nocturnal, evil creatures didn’t catch the vibe and immediately fuck off. 
You’d be surprised at how shitty some people's self preservation instincts are.
You asked your boss once—a very large, very well built, very well connected vampire—why he bothered having a layer of protection for them. His only response was: “Business is business.”
Plus he knows he can’t have a trail of bodies that lead directly to his club's front steps, so he keeps a couple of mortals around just in case. This way, with you two here, there was always someone who knew all the drinks the humans could have, and someone to keep all the greedy eyes around the venue in check, as you have banning and kicking out privileges. 
Because where you saw Kin, your regulars saw food, a hunt, or a job. They saw something to be taken advantage of or killed. They saw poor, weak, pathetic little mortals that should’ve been eradicated centuries ago had their ancestors been smarter. 
They are the superior beings in their eyes, your race is just a bug to be squashed under their proverbial boot. 
It makes you worry what they think of you. Is the only thing that stops them from devouring you whole the fact that you make their drinks just the way they like it, that you have a use in serving them? Or do they respect you enough now that you understand how to act around them and know what they’re like? What they are. 
You worry, but you’ll never know the truth because you aren’t stupid enough to ask and show weakness. They can smell that shit from a mile away, and all it does is paint a 30 foot wide target on your back. 
“Yes he does. I bet you tonight's tips he’ll be here in the next two hours,” Taehyung presses. 
And ooohh, a night’s worth of tips, bragging rights, and winning a bet against Tae all sound way too good damn to pass up. 
“You’re delusional,” you say, holding out a hand. Tae grabs and shakes, as you agree to his terms. “And you’re on, don’t come crying when you lose.” 
There’s no way he’ll show up. It’s Friday night, the night of sin, he’s going to be up to his eyeballs with work…stuff.
“Easiest money I’ve ever made,” Taehyung grins, and with the confidence in which he does, you begin to second guess your own.
It’s not that you did or didn’t want him to show up, it’s just that your relationship with him is…complicated at best. You never really knew how to navigate a conversation with him outside of surface level banter and jokes, but it’s always been like that with you two.
Having known him for years—from a small mistake on your behalf, and a favour on his—you’re one of the only people he seems to be able to put up with for company. Certainly the only one he’s half-way decent with. But what’s more surprising to you is that despite his name, reputation, and the fact he’s always joked he’d have killed anyone else by this point, is that he’s never once tried to cause you harm. 
Actually, he’s almost…protective of you. In his own weird way.
And obnoxiously flirty. 
But you could never. Not with who and what you are, and who and what he is. 
Regardless of how you fight the heat down in your cheeks every time you see him, and how your heart flutters against your will in multiple places in your body at even the thought of being near him.
Regardless of the fact that you shut him down every time he suggests anything more than an over the bar conversation, and the way your panties seem to always dampen in his presenc–fuck. 
It’s happening again. Stop thinking about it, stop, stop st–wait. You turn, seeing the violet ichor in Tae’s eyes and you know the bitch is using his power on you. You flip the asshole off and he chuckles.
He’s been trying to get you to change your mind ever since the first time he saw you deny yourself. 
“You know I can tell when you’re hot and bothered right? Incubus, remember? It’s literally part of who I am.” 
To which you think again, fucking incubi…
Your most infamous regular is, to quote your favourite tv show, ‘the bane of your existence and the object of all your desires,’ and you will never, ever entertain his annoying, disgustingly hot ass more than you already do. Not after everything you went through the first—and last—time with a creature of the night. 
You learned your lesson.
So instead, you try to think of him more like an old friend. The kind that’s actually really old already, but looks amazing for his age. The kind that makes shivers run up your spine when he talks to you in the deepest, most gravel turning voice you’ve ever heard, that you also ignore out of pure self preservation. He’s the kind that you shove out of your thoughts at night when your alone and in desperate need of relie—Fucking Taehyung! 
You whip your head around to search for the violet eyed incubus, only to see him across the bar helping some stocky vampire. And you’re about a hair's breadth away from ripping him a new one in front of said vampire when the idle hum of chatter in the bar ceases and the band’s calming music falters into missed notes and a cymbal crash that's too hard; awkward, painful silence remaining.
From behind you, you can hear the front door close, followed by light footsteps that grow louder and louder. Only once the seat directly behind you creaks with the sound of being occupied, does the chatter and music resume.
Which can only mean one fucking thing. 
You just lost all your tips for the night. 
Tae’s shit eating grin as he looks over your shoulder confirms it. 
Fuck. 
“Excuse me,” the bottom of the ocean floor speaks and you make a conscious effort not to react.
“Ardbeg Single Malt, neat?” You throw over your shoulder, not bothering to look just yet. 
You know precisely where he sits. And he knows you know. 
“Sounds perfect,” he responds, and you focus on ‘looking for the bottle.’ 
You know exactly where it is.
No one else will touch it. 
Taehyung busies himself with bringing an order of Bloody Mary’s down to a booth on the floor, knowing he’ll be burned alive if he so much as looks at a whiskey glass. 
No one serves him but you. 
But more importantly, nobody disrespects you in front of him. A lesson your ex–see: dead–coworker, Sal, learned the hard way. His burn mark is still seared onto the floor behind you. 
You’d almost felt bad that day, but he was a lust demon who touched you without your permission, hit on you every five minutes, and when you said no, treated you like shit.
You’d been close to dousing him with vodka and lighting him up yourself, but the man tapping his fingers on the bar behind you beat you to it 15 seconds after sitting down one night last year. 
After shoving Sal off you for the fourth time that night, he was pissed. Whispering obscenities to himself loud enough so you would hear,
“Fucking stupid mortal bitch, maybe next time I’ll just drag you into an alley do whatever the fuck I want. Nobody here’s going to stop me. And maybe then you’ll learn to shut up with this dick in your cunt and my fingers down your throat, huh? Leave you to rot with the garbage where you belong after you’re all used up.”
He didn’t take another breath. 
A single burst of blistering flame had Sal reduced to ashes in seconds. You’d felt the heat from it, but your skin remained burn free, safe from its dangerous blaze. The lust demon from then on only existed as a smudge on the ground to be walked over.  
“Thanks,” You’d said.
“It’s where he belongs,”  he responded. 
Grateful for his kindness, you entertained him more than usual that night. Engaged in an actual conversation, about your birthday of all things. You had no idea why he wanted to know, but you considered the information his reward for helping you, and he seemed pleased with it.
But he was more than pleased. 
After years, you’d revealed something to him. Something personal.
He took it as a sign that he might be able to get you to change your mind one day, if he did everything just right. Having played the long game before, this was no different. The only thing different this time, was you. 
Maybe it was the way you walked with such confidence, or the way you never cowered in fear around him. Not the day you met nor any day after. Or maybe you were sent by his father just to mess with his head. He didn’t care. All he knew was what he wanted, and that he was more than willing to wait as long as was needed to get it. 
A nursery rhyme from your childhood plays in your head every time you see him. It never wavers, just like the eyes you can feel on the back of your neck, watching your experienced hands make his drink. 
Quietly, you recite it to yourself while you grab the bottle;
‘One for sorrow,
Two for joy,
Three for a girl,
Four for a boy,
Five for silver,
Six for gold,
Seven for a secret never to be told.’
You pour, steady hand making it last as long as you possibly can to gain a few more seconds to compose yourself. 
‘Eight for a wish,
Nine for a kiss,
Ten a surprise you should be careful not to miss,
Eleven for health,
Twelve for wealth,’
You put the bottle down and cork it before returning it to its place on the shelf. Taking a deep breath, you turn to finally face him, and change the wording of the last line to fit your situation better.
“One Ardbeg Single Malt neat, for the Devil himself.” 
He snickers, “I always liked that nursery rhyme. It’s cute. Like you, Angel.” 
You roll your eyes. To anyone else that would sound like a compliment. But coming from the Devil it’s more of an insult. One you know is meant in a playful way after all these years, crass in his humour, just like you. And you know he can take a little heat back.
“Wow, that’s a classic,” you grab a glass to polish, keeping your hands busy so they don’t do something stupid while you’re distracted. “Got one of those for you too, ‘Did it hurt when you fell from heaven?’” 
He chokes on a laugh before straightening on the barstool and putting on a face. “I don’t think that joke’s appropriate.” 
“Oh come on Yoongi, you come at me with ‘It’s cute, like you, Angel’ and I can’t poke back?” You ask, knowing full well his uncomfortable look is all an act. “I thought you didn’t have any feelings besides rage, lust and currently; insufferable flirting.”
You know the entire club listens in to your conversation. 
No one calls the Devil by his first name. 
Nobody speaks to the Devil unless spoken to. 
And no one makes jokes at the Devil’s expense and lives. 
No one except you. 
What a funny little exception you are.
Yoongi drops the act, a sly smirk that sends bubbles to your brain, replacing it. “So you admit my flirting isn’t always bad. Must be doing something right then.”
You force yourself not to slam a palm into your forehead. Of course that’s what he got out of your sentence.
You aren’t going to make his ego any bigger than it already is. 
“It isn’t working,”—fuck, yes it is—“if that’s what you’re asking. Can’t say I’m surprised though, I hear you’ve been out of the game for a couple millenia,” he quirks a brow at that. 
Ooo, that means you’re nearing thin ice, haven't been there in a while…Let’s see if you can slide around a bit more without falling in. 
“I mean, I’m sure you’ll get there eventually. If you stay consistent at your current rate of progress you could hit me up in,” you suck air in through your teeth and look at the ceiling, before checking a watch you don’t wear, pretending to think, “a thousand years?” You tease, a lilt in your tone. Because if Yoongi was going to make your shift this fucking difficult just by breathing near you, then you sure as Hell can do the same for his night. 
He chuckles like the coals of a fire and you cross your legs behind the bar. Motherfucker… 
“Someones got a mouth on them tonight,” he says, looking directly into your eyes as he takes his first sip, savouring the taste before swallowing. His tongue dips to his bottom lip for any remnants and you gulp, vision dropping for a millisecond—oh for the love of—and you finally notice what he’s wearing.
Much to your dismay and dwindling willpower, he looks fucking good. With only a white scarf to accent, the all black Valentino suit fits in perfectly with the bar’s dress code, as well as the long slicked back hair he’s only recently started to grow out. Just seeing it like this makes you want to run your hands through and mess it up. 
You’ve always had a thing for men with long hair, ever since you were young.
Jack Sparrow, Madmartigan, even The Winter Soldier. And come to think of it, none of them were exactly the good guys in their respective universes either…
Nope! No. You can’t. You can’t.
You can’t for so many reasons, so many good and bad and everything in between reasons. You’re nothing more than a flimsy human while he’s the Great Immortal Evil. The person people whisper the name of for fear of incurring his wrath. 
The King of Hell. 
He’s the person that walks into a room and everyone balks under his gaze, terrified of what he may do. He’s killed millions with no mercy. Doesn’t so much as think twice to horrifically burn someone where they stand to ash in hellfire for breathing the wrong way near him. He lavishes in the screams of sinners, punished in their own blood and bones, beaten into a shell of who they were in the nine circles of Hell. Left gaping, broken and sobbing in agony for their suffering to end. 
Yoongi is walking nightmares and visceral terror. He is merciless violence and brutality abandon. 
Yoongi is living, breathing, unyielding death wrapped up in deceivingly beautiful packaging. 
He is the epitome of someone you should not like, should not go near, and definitely should not want in the way the thrumming in your bones is telling you, you want him.
You have to stay away from him. 
But that doesn’t mean you can’t flirt back a little.
As salaciously as you can muster, you whisper low, “But it’s nothing you can’t handle,” and you swear you see a hint of surprise in Yoongi’s eyes, followed by something so much deeper that you have to look away under the guise of checking for any newcomers. 
It’s a dangerous game you’re playing. One you need to move the pieces of very, very carefully. 
There’s a handful of people waiting to be served, but none disturb Yoongi’s service. So you’re forced and relieved to cut the interaction short. For both the waiting patrons, and your sanity. 
“Enjoy the whiskey, Yoongi.”
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Yoongi doesn’t bother you for the rest of the night, instead he watches you help the other patrons and make drinks. No one dares sit within three seats of him on either side, so the booths and tables fill more than the bar does, forcing you to do more tray work than you like. And you think you can feel those eyes on the back of your neck travel elsewhere.
Soon after he takes his last sip, Yoongi leaves far too much cash on the table to cover a single drink, and you know Tae won’t include it in tonight's bet. He rather enjoys being alive. 
The first time he did this you tried to give it back, insisting it was too much. But one threat to Tae’s life had you accepting the outrageous amount he left you every time. Despite how much he gets on your nerves, you rather enjoy Taehyung's company on your shifts. And you didn’t want to risk having a new coworker like Sal again. 
Thank you, Yoongi. You silently think to yourself every time he does. His tips are one of the only reasons you’re able to take care of yourself so well. 
You live in an apartment you should not be able to afford on a bartender's wage. Eat well, buy all the brand name products for the skin care routine you could only dream of having as a teenager, and you’re able to get yourself a little treat every once in a while. 
All thanks to the one man the world claimed was the purest entity of evil there was. 
And maybe he is. 
But not to you. 
The rest of your night, and closing go smoothly. The journey home passes by in a flash and soon you’re flopping into your bed, asleep before you hit the pillow. 
You dream of Yoongi and Hellfire and things only your subconscious will let you. The thoughts that you force away every time you see him. 
The burn of his hands on your skin and his lips on your neck. The warmth that spreads over your entire body at the mere mention of your name from his lips. His tongue in places you wouldn’t dare allow him to even think about in the waking world. 
And you wake from an orgasm he wasn't in the waking world to give you. 
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It’s the last Saturday in October, which means it’s also your birthday.
You found it rather funny that the one person the Devil could stand to conversate with was born on his night. Maybe that’s coincidence or maybe that’s fate, either way you didn’t care, because you had it booked off work and you were going to a bar and dancing with your friends, dressed up in the sluttiest costumes you could find. 
Your recent visit with your birthday's namesake inspired your costume this year. Wearing the shortest, blood red leather dress you could find, the slits up the sides ran almost to your hips, and a corseted waist that made you feel sexy and fierce. You’d paired it with some velvet horns, a tail, pitchfork, crimson lace stockings and your most recent edition; red bottomed strappy stilettos. 
They’d been your birthday present to yourself, courtesy of Yoongi’s most recent tip. And needless to say, you felt hot as shit. No one could tear you down tonight.
All your friends met at your house before ridesharing down to a club. It’s loud, hazy, and filled with other Devil’s Night party goers as you arrive, smoke lingering in the air and you can feel the wave of dancing coming from further inside. 
Someone buys you your first round within a minute of being let in, lemon drop filling your taste buds as you knock back the shot. Another is ordered immediately after the first, it runs smoother and tastes like chocolate as you make your way to the dance floor. 
Aside from you, your friends are dressed up as a wild mix of characters. Rey is dressed as Daphne from Scooby Doo, Yaejin is Nezuko from Demon Slayer, Bryce is a gender bent Legolas from Lord of the Rings, Declan is Donatello from the Ninja Turtles, Cam is a ghost, and Trin is a character from a book you’ve never read. Something about dragons and magic and vermin—or was it venin? Whatever. But they were in all black and had used silver hair spray on the tips of their hair.
You let the alcohol make its way through your veins as you dance, loosening up. The DJ mixes songs together in a way that never has the crowd thinning out and you laugh as you move with your friends, swaying and rocking and grinding. 
You needed this.
A night out just to let go, have fun, forget everything and hopefully get lucky by the end of it. It’s been a while since you’ve taken anyone to bed, and birthday sex sounds amazing the more the lemon drop, and what you finally learned was a tootsie roll shot, settle into your system. 
You aren’t drunk by any means, but you are buzzed and having a blast. An orgasm sounds like the only thing that could possibly make this night any better. So you make your way around the dance floor, keeping one eye open for any potentials, but mostly just dancing with Rey and Cam. The others either grabbing another drink back at the bar or resting their legs in a booth. 
“Babe,” Rey says, hands around your neck with Cam behind you, hands on your hips. You all sway to the beat of the admittedly sensual song playing. 
“Yeah?” You ask, opening your eyes to meet hers and she leans in closer. 
You can hear the smile on her lips, “Major tall, dark and handsome at 9 o'clock has been eyeing you for at least a half hour. I say you ditch me and Cam and go enthrall the man with your company for a little while. We’ll be fine on our own.” 
Heating at her words you’re excited to see who’s gone and done half your job for you tonight when your eyes stop dead on target. 
In a private booth in the VIP section, blending in far too well with the mortals around him, he wears a button down black satin top and dress pants. Thick silver links adorn his neck, complimenting the hoops in his lobes as well as the mouth watering rings on his fingers and you’re quite sure the bottoms of his black leather shoes match the red of your own. 
Yoongi. 
God he looks good. Unfairly so. And he carries that knowledge with him in his movement. His confidence never wavering like a mortal’s would.
Aside from two twisting black horns you’ve never seen before protruding from his deliciously tousled hair—hair you still want to pull on until he’s making sounds no ones ever heard come out of his mouth before, now moreso than ever—Yoongi is a darker version of yourself. 
Except for him, it isn’t a costume, it’s real, real, real. 
And he looks like sin incarnate. 
Fitting. 
Fuck, you’re so screwed. What were all those reasons it could never work again? The ones that explain why you shouldn’t take the Devil home and let him fuck you into next Sunday?
Suddenly, you can’t remember any of them. Not when Yoongi’s eyes never leave your red-clad form as he sips on what you know to be subpar whiskey. Your core melts into lava at the way he looks up and down, taking all of you in like you’re the one thing on this planet he needs to survive, and he’ll stop at nothing and spare absolutely no one until he gets you. 
Rey gives Cam a look and their hands drop, allowing you to almost float over to where Yoongi lounges, maneuvering between bodies undulating to music that’s being deafened by the heartbeat in your ears.
When you reach him, you leave a somewhat respectable distance between you two, a step down from the dias the booth sits on. 
Seeing him so much clearer now, you almost whine. How does he look even better up close? You want to sit on his lap, his face, have him bend you over the table then flip you over and feast like a man starved. 
Fuck! No, you can’t. And you also can’t blame Tae for those thoughts either, he isn’t here.
They were all you. 
Maybe his plan was working after all…
“What are you doing here?” You manage, grateful that you hadn’t had more to drink, but even more grateful for the ones you did. You needed a little liquid courage right now, even if it turned your thoughts into gutter sewage.
What he doesn’t know can’t hurt you…right? You just have to keep a lid on it. The one that’s loosening the more you look at him.
“It’s your birthday,” he says, producing a small black box wrapped with a bow. “I have a gift.”
He…he got you a present? He’s never done that before. But then again, before last year, he never knew when it was.
“You remem—I—you didn’t have to get me anything,” you stutter ungracefully, mouth trying to keep up with your racing thoughts. “I already got these shoes with the tip you left me last time,” you say, extending your leg to show off your newest purchase. The action reveals more leg than you meant it too and he catches the garter you have pulled around your thigh.
A fire ignites in his eyes at the sight, and you can feel their sparks everywhere he looks. Starting at your toes and moving all the way up back to your pretty irises. 
“I’m flattered by the way,” he says. “In your costume choice.”
Huh? You look down and heat rises to your cheeks in a way it never has before. Oh fuck, oh fuck. Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit!
Here you stand, before the actual Devil—horns out in all their glory—dressed as him on his namesake night. 
Of course this would happen to you, of course it would. This is what you get for fucking around. You found out. And you don’t know whether to be mortified, beg for forgiveness, or laugh yourself hoarse. 
Going with none of the above, you choose to play it off instead, the way you always do when he manages to fluster you. “Consider me inspired by how recently I last saw you,” you say, taking the single step up the dias and twirling for him. 
You show every angle of your costume you can, letting the booze in your system do its job of making you more confident than you currently are.
“What do you think?”  
Yoongi stands, taking the two strides needed to be face to face with you, his voice is quiet and even, so only you can hear.
“May I touch?”
You don’t hesitate. 
“Yes.” 
Yoongi reaches behind you and pulls the fake tail from the back of your dress, then the pitchfork from your grasp and throws them into the booth, not caring where they land.
“Mmm,” he hums, placing his hands on your hips and spinning you once more. Lightning strikes every single nerve ending where his fingertips meet your body. 
This time when he speaks, his voice is touched with the bit of demon that’s inside of him, dragging its claws along the floor of the 9th circle of Hell as he growls, “You’re perfect.” 
Your heart does backflips and cartwheels and nose dives all at once. You’ve never heard him sound like that before, and if your panties weren’t wet before, they definitely are now. 
Tugging gently, he guides you to the booth, sitting first before dragging you over his lap, knees meeting his hips. One of his hands rests on your thigh while the other reaches for something you can’t be bothered to figure out because oh my god, oh my god, you’re straddling him. Your straddling the Devil, dressed as the devil and probably already looking semi-fucked out while you do. This is probably a bad idea—no. This is definitely a bad idea. But you also have absolutely zero plans to stop literally anything that’s happening. 
The gift box makes a reappearance, and he hands it over to you. 
“Thank you,” you say automatically, trying and failing to ignore the fact that both of his hands now rest on your thighs. Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck…..
Undoing the little black bow, you open it, revealing a delicately simple necklace. Its light weight chain holding a small pink stone pendant. 
Beautiful. 
“Pink Tourmaline,” Yoongi says. 
“My birthstone,” you reply.
“Your birthstone.”
You stare at the little crystal, cut and polished to perfection. Not a single flaw.
“Yoongi I—I don’t know what to say. It’s incredible…Thank you,” you take it out of the box, profoundly grateful you decided not to wear a necklace tonight. “Could you help me put it on?”
“Of course, Angel,” he agrees. But this time when he says your nickname, it’s different. Like an unholy vow made only to you. 
Makes you wonder what he promised.
Regretfully removing yourself from his lap, you turn around, only to be dragged back down by strong fingers. 
Your ass is now flush against his dick, and it’s taking everything in you not to tease. Whether you’d be teasing him or yourself, you don't know, nor do you care. All you know is that friction can be a good thing if you want it to be. And you're starting to want it to be.
Lifting your hair for him, Yoongi fastens the necklace around your column, and to your complete and utter doom, places a gentle kiss at your nape. The simple contact makes you quietly moan, and you feel a twitch under you. 
Ohhh, this is bad, this is so bad. But you can’t bring yourself to stop him. Not when his hands roam up and down your back, your sides, your hips. Exploring, feeling, learning. You dissolve into the touch, welcoming every whisper of pleasure they bring. 
What is he doing to you?
“Angel,” Yoongi purrs in your ear. 
“Mmm?”
“Would you like to dance?”
Fuck would you ever, but wait— 
“Are you asking me if I’d like to Dance with the Devil?” you muse. 
Yoongi chuckles lowly, understanding the meaning behind your ask.
“Is that something you’d be interested in?” 
“Yes.”
You feel more than hear the dark rumble coming from his chest before he gently taps on your thigh. And you get up quickly. 
“That’s a good girl,” he says, and fuck could you ever get used to him saying that to you.
Fingers laced in his, he lets you guide him to the dance floor.
Both of you ignore what the DJ plays, instead moving to the rhythm you feel like. Slow, sensual, a hand on his neck while you grind into him. Fast and heated, bodies touching any and every place you can get contact. You’re putting on quite the show for anyone brave enough to watch. And you know at least a handful of the eyes you feel on you are your friends’. 
They don’t know about Yoongi.
They don’t know about the nature of the clientele at your job either, like every other human. They don’t know you're dancing with the most dangerous and volatile man in the room. And it’s better that way, because if they did, your ass would’ve been hauled out of the club and in a rideshare the second anyone saw him. 
You’ve never been more thankful for the figurative wall between worlds. And the fact that you stand on both sides. 
You brush up against his hardening dick and fuck, that’s it. 
You’ve decided. 
To hell with your reasons. To hell with the constant flirting and overuse of will power. 
To hell with letting your anxieties and your moral compass and your conscience get in the way of the one thing you’ve been denying yourself for years. 
You spin in Yoongi’s hold, looking straight into the darkened eyes of the most forbidden man you could ever want for yourself, only to see pure desire staring right back. It’s all you need before you’re crashing your lips to his, taking anything and everything you can get before one of you comes to your senses and pulls back. 
But his grip on you tightens like a vice, pulling you closer, bodies flush amidst the dancing crowd. He’s magnetic in his want, lifting a hand to the back of your neck and tracing the seam of your lips with his tongue.
You let him in without hesitation and he nearly swallows you whole with how he invades your mouth, claiming it for himself. It makes you moan and he lets up, if only to let you breathe for a moment, and you take this reprieve to whisper in his ear, finally giving in to what you crave more than anything.
“Let’s go to yours.”
“We should go to yours, Angel, mine’s a bit harder to get to.”
Because his is on another plane of existence. Not exactly a taxi ride away. At least not one you can get at the curb of the club. 
“Riiight.” A small dose of water washes over the fire in your core, and it’s like he can sense it because immediately, he’s pulling you back in. Nothing but teeth and lips and tongue, animalistic in the passion you’re displaying for everyone to see, the flames increasing tenfold.
Fuck, you don’t want to wait. 
And apparently neither does Yoongi. 
“Do you trust me?” He asks.
“Yes, but what does tha–”
“Close your eyes for me, Love.”
Any and all arguments fade on your tongue at the new pet name. So much warmer than Angel, so much more affectionate. 
So you close your eyes for him, no questions asked. Because you trust him. You trust the Devil. 
You trust Yoongi. 
“That's a good girl.” 
One hand goes to the back of your neck, the other your lower back as he kisses you gently. So gently you think it means something more, but the sounds of the club are fading away, and he’s leaning you down like he’s going to dip you before your back meets something soft. 
Are you closer to a booth than you thought? Is he really going to take you here in front of all those people? 
But when you open your eyes and your bedroom at your apartment fills your vision, you stiffen immediately.
What?
“I—but we were just—and now we’re he—and you—,” you stutter, amazed and unable to get the thoughts out fast enough before another takes its place. You manage a, “How?” and he catches on. 
Not halting his actions, “Consider it a job perk,” he explains, nipping at your neck. You let out a groan as he continues his way down your column towards your chest and you relax into his touch.
“Teleportation, in simple terms, but it’s a bit more complicated than that.”
Despite his mouth on your skin, you somehow find the clearness of mind to ask, “Did anyone see?” Thinking about your friends and the potential hundreds of onlookers.
Yoongi’s hands rest at top of the zipper that goes the entire length of your dress, allowing for both easy putting on and quick removal. Fingers tug gently on the slider, eyes meeting yours for consent. You nod, and he answers your question as he drags it down your body torturously slow, savouring every moment he’s worked so hard to get. 
He’s going to earn this privilege you’ve given him, if it's the last thing he does.
“No. And your friends won’t worry either.”
You don’t care how he knows that, not when he’s pulling off hot leather and devouring your curves with coal burning pupils. The cool air of your room causes goosebumps to rise everywhere, and your arms fly to your head, covering your eyes as you’re reminded you’d forgone a bra tonight. 
There was no room for one without it squishing your tits too much and ruining the look. So with your dress gone, Yoongi has a front row seat to your nearly nude form, a blood red lace thong the only thing keeping you semi-decent. 
Years of pining and denial have led up to this moment and Yoongi almost doesn’t know where to start now that he finally has you exactly where he wants you. That feeling doesn’t last long though.
Wasting no more time, he takes a breast into his palm, squeezing and massaging while he lowers himself to the other, lapping the nipple of the one neglected. His tongue swirls over the pert bud, sucking it into his mouth fully and you arch into his touch, reveling in the warmth he spreads across your chest. Hands reaching for the sheets above your head for something to ground you.
“Shit,” you can already feel your pulse in your ears, thundering behind your sternum, and booming lower. He’s barely touched you and you’re already so gone.
He switches his hand and mouth, soothing the other breast with the sinful muscle he’s teased you with after all these years drinking whiskey. And by god if you don’t immediately think what it could do in other places. He’s had thousands of years to practice and the gush you feel in your panties lets you know exactly how you feel about the idea. 
Using his free hand, Yoongi traces down your back, rounding your ass and squeezing hard enough to make you hiss in pleasure before settling on the back of your thigh. 
You can barely stand having his hands so close to your molten heat without having any contact, and it leaves you begging, “Please…Please…”
You feel the curve of his lip quirk as teeth gently scrape the sensitive bud, gasping when he pulls off. 
“Please what, Love?”
“More,” you pant. “Please. Anything. Everything. Please just touch me.”
“Mmm,” he’s back at your neck, inhaling your scent, one hand still on your thigh while the other holds him up by your ear. “Pretty Girl has manners after all, huh?” 
“Oh fuck you.” you bristle, but it seems to be the reaction he’s looking for. A deeper, sluttier part of you awakening at the words you want to prove both wrong and right.
“There she is.”
Diving back into your neck, Yoongi trails wet, open mouthed kisses down, down, down. And even though you’ve never been so wet, so in the moment, and so unbelievably turned on before, the human part of you wins for a second, as you try to close your legs. 
They’re pulled back open in an instant, his eyes never wavering from yours as he says, “Don’t you dare get shy on me now,” a kiss to your inner thigh. And then the other as he kneels before you. 
Yoongi places each foot on either of his shoulders and you’re surprised he’s kept on your garter, stockings and red bottoms, their heels digging into his flesh. You wonder if that hurts at all, but by the way his eyes flutter and almost roll into the back of his head at the pressure they place on his frame, you think he actually likes their sting.
“You’re the most exquisite creature I have ever seen. Absolutely no part of you could ever be undesirable to me.” 
His earnest tone makes you believe him, convinces you, and you’re once again pliant in his hold, opening up for him.
“Look at me,” he says, and you do. You stare directly at the Devil between your thighs. The King knelt before your lowly mortal form. “You are the most powerful person in this room, understand?”
You nod, but that’s not good enough for him. 
“I need to hear it.”
“I understand.”
“Understand what?” He pushes.
“I’m the most powerful person in this room,” and it feels bold to say in front of him. But watching the way Yoongi’s expression fills with pride makes it also feel good. He wants you to feel like you’re the one in charge. 
“Remember that,” he says, before ripping your underwear off and throwing them on the floor, feasting his now wholly black eyes on the sight of your dripping pussy.
The more he loses himself in you, the more of his true form reveals itself.
“Fuuuckk,” he whispers more to himself than anything. “So wet…”
Your core is tormented and throbbing at the back and forth between the cold night air and Yoongi’s hot breath and you whine, “I just bought those!”
He spares you one completely unsympathetic look. 
“Don’t care. I’ll buy you more,” a deliciously ringed finger slides along your drenched folds and you’re gasping. “I’ll buy you the entire fucking store if it means I get to see you like this.”
Your voice is airy as you give in, any and all outrage gone. “Oka—ohhh!”
His mouth is on your cunt before you can breathe in the oxygen you so desperately need. He’s not holding back and your movements are not your own as you squirm. An arm rounds your pelvis holds you down, keeping you there as he devours you whole and shows you no mercy.
“Fuck, fuck, oh my god Yoongi,” you cry out, having never felt anything like this before. His tongue circles your clit as he sucks, then glides down, penetrating your opening with thrusts that make you lightheaded. 
Your hands fly to his locks, pulling and pushing him down further until you're pretty sure you’re drowning him in you. Your fingertips graze his horns and it’s just a reminder that this man is definitely not human. Definitely not someone you should be letting suck your soul out through your pussy. And that makes this whole situation that much hotter. 
If he minds where you touch, he doesn’t say anything about it, only groaning as he repeats his motions to get you near your peak, again and again and again until you're quaking against your will and your body is vibrating with every throb from your core.
Every single nerve ending you have is awake and being put to good use, he’s making sure of it. The dam that holds your release is starting to crumble and you don’t know how much longer you can last like this before you’re screaming bloody murder under his grip. 
“Yoon…Yoongi—fuck,” you stutter, staggered breaths from your trembling chest loose as you try to verbalize, “C-close. S-so close.”
He hums, and teases a finger around your entrance, circling a few times before pressing in and up to your g-spot. The simple action undoes you and you're coming with a force you can’t even begin to describe. The waves crash down, over and over and you're moaning and cursing his name at the same time, knowing it’s going to be the only one you’ll think of in this situation from now until forever.
He guides you through the last shockwaves as you come down, and when you’re too sensitive for him to continue, you drag him up to your lips, tasting his efforts on your tongue. 
“Need you now,” you rush out between kisses.
“Not yet, Love,” he says, pulling back just enough to reach a hand between the two of you.
He slips two fingers inside and swallows the resulting moan from your lips as he goes so deep enough you can feel his rings proding your opening.
“Gotta stretch you out for me first.” 
Your hands are back in his hair, nails scratching the nape of his neck as he begins to scissor you open expertly. He growls into your neck at the sensation and that confirms your suspicions of him liking a little pain with his pleasure. So you scratch further down his neck, onto his shoulders and back and you dig a heel into his thigh.
“Fuck, Angel,” fingers stuttering for a second. “Don’t do that unless you want me to come right now.”
“And if I do?” 
“Not yet.”
“Why not?”
“Because the first time I come, it’ll be with you around my cock, soaking the sheets with your own.”
Head rolling back, his words going straight to your clit. “Fuck, okay.”
“Now give me another one, Pretty Girl,” he says, picking up speed with his digits. “I know you can, pretty little slut takes my fingers so well.”
Fuck, fuck, fuck…
You can feel it coming this time, building and building. He uses his thumb to rub over your sensitive nub and it has you unraveling under him, screaming out and almost sobbing at the convulsions your body makes. He takes your mouth with his again, consuming your pleasure in every form he can get. 
And once you come down, you’ve had it. If you don’t have him inside you within the next 2 minutes you’re going to lose it. 
Ripping at his shirt, you're fumbling with the buttons. “Fuck, take this off, and those,” you say, abandoning his shirt for his belt. 
Yoongi chuckles, low and sinful, “Bossy,” but gets up, and begins removing the outfit that got you into this situation in the first place. You take off the remnants of your costume as he spares you no peace of mind, the way you did him, taking off his pants and boxers in one go, freeing his mouth watering bulge from its earthy confines. 
“Oh fuck me,” you say at his size. He’s big, girthy and you’ve never wanted someone inside you so badly before. 
Yoongi smirks as he crawls over you, but you stop him with a hand. “Wait,” you throw a leg over his hip, and flip the two of you so you’re on top. “Let me do this.”
“Whatever you want, Angel.”
Picking up his cock, it sits heavy in your hand as you give him a couple strokes. He hisses at the contact and it only spurs you on, gathering as much saliva as you can, you open your mouth to spit, rubbing it all over his shaft and head, mixing it with the precum dribbling out of the tip. 
“Fuck—”
Your 2 minutes are up. Lifting your ass, you guide yourself onto him. 
“Oh my fuck, oh fuck,” you say as you slide down slowly, the stretch still very much there as he bottoms out. “Big—ohh, shit—so big.”
Yoongi’s not faring much better, eyebrows pressed together, but eyes devouring the spot where your bodies meet. His breathing is so laboured you’d think he just ran a marathon.
“So tight, Love...Fuck, look at you.”
The delicious sting subsides and you start to move, slow but purposeful thrusts that have him kissing your cervix every time. Fuck he’s so deep, deeper than anyone else has ever been. And once you get a rhythm going there’s no stopping you. You become a force of nature as you bounce on his cock without abandon, taking this for yourself. You don’t know why, but you feel like you have a point to prove and by god you’re going to make it. 
Because if the Devil chose you, you’re going to make damn sure he doesn’t regret it. 
“Fuck, fuck you’re doing so good,” he rasps, throwing his head back into the pillows, eyes shut in pure bliss, murmuring. “Feels so good.” 
His praise pushes you farther, riding harder, grinding your clit against his pelvis, owning both your pleasures. 
You’re the most powerful person here. 
You are the one in control despite being on top of arguably the most powerful man on the planet. It makes you feel safe and strong and invincible. 
And you want to continue, you really do, but your legs are starting to give, so you let him know. 
“Ass up for me then,” he says, and you listen, climbing off of him and wincing at the feeling of him slipping out. He gets behind you, lining himself up again and this time it’s much easier as he sinks in, both of you groaning at the contact. 
Yoongi hands go to your hips, gripping and squeezing and molding the globes of your ass as you anchor your cheek to the bedsheets. 
“That’s it, Pretty Girl, all the way down for me.”
His first thrust has you seeing stars. You're nothing and everything as he continues, but you need more. You need to not be able to speak. To walk. You need to have every thought fucked out of your head. You need him so deep you’ll feel it for a week afterwards.
“Faster,” you beg. “Harder, please.”
“There are those manners I was looking for,” he says and picks up his pace. 
You’re incoherent, saying things you’ve never dared to utter out loud before, making admissions you swore to take to your grave and Yoongi is eating up every single last one of them. 
Because this is about you. This is about proving years of your denial’s fruitless. This is about him and how you make him lose every ounce of self control he has when he’s around you and how badly he’s wanted you since the day you met. This is about ruining every other man for you, making sure you know what true pleasure feels like, know how you deserve to be treated, and hearing his name on your lips when you come. When your cunt clenches so hard he has to fight tooth and nail to milk every ounce of bliss from it.
This is about him wanting to hear him make you feel good. Needing to hear him make you feel good.
This is about you. 
And he can feel you starting to clamp up again, can feel you getting close. So he wraps an arm around your waist, fingers going straight for your pussy.
You shriek, body consumed by the even strokes he delivers as well as the smooth circles around your most sensitive spot, and he revels in it. This is what he’s been dreaming of, what he’s desired over everything else. 
You, underneath him in so much pleasure you’re almost non-verbal. 
Perfect in every single way. 
“Taking me so well, dirty girl. Love the feeling of my cock splitting you open?” he hears a muffled cry and you nod your head. “Knew you would, knew you could take me.”
He delivers a smack to your ass and he feels you clench, so he soothes the battered area before handing out another, soothing that one out too. 
“You’re so good for me, pretty little whore so greedy, sucking me in. Why’d you make me think you didn’t want me all these years, hmm? Was I not good enough for you?”
You bury your face in your sheets. Well that certainly won’t do. So he slows his fingers as he reiterates. “Was I not good enough for you then, Angel? Am I good enough for you now?”
“Yes,” you mutter, barely loud enough to hear.
“What was that?” he slows again to a near burningly slow pace, soaking in the feel of you around his fingers and dick. It feels like a place he once called home.
“Yes!” you bellow. “So good…so good to me…more than enough.”
The praise fuels him, and he picks up the speed of everything, cock pounding you into the mattress, fingers rubbing an achingly mind-blowing pattern on your clit. It pushes you over the edge for the third time tonight, your fluttering cunt around his dick almost has him losing it. Almost has him coming undone with you, but he manages to hold it back. 
Not yet. 
You're silent in your screams this time, overwhelmed with the feelings, fingers nearly ripping your sheets in half at how hard it hit you. How hard you contract around him.
Oh he’s never going to get sick of this feeling. 
Ever.  
And instead of guiding you down this time, he removes himself quickly, flips you over on your back and inserts himself once more. 
He needs that feeling again. Needs you again. You claimed him for yourself whether you knew it or not all those years ago, he was simply following orders. He was yours the second your eyes met for the first time and he’s never looked back since. No one was ever good enough from that moment on, not a single creature on any plane of existence. 
There was only you. 
Yoongi’s never felt anything so pure and so sinful and so right as you pulsing around him does. He exists only for this feeling. Only for you. It took a couple thousand years, but at least now he knows. 
And so he doesn’t slow down, pushing you through your oversensitivity.
It’s time for him to finally claim you back.
“I can’t,” you beg, “it hurts.”
“Not for long, Pretty Girl” he says in his lowest registar. “You can take it, I know you can. Give me one more, I know you have it in you.”
Yoongi’s noticed his words have almost the same effect on you as his motions, so he uses them to their full potential. And as he can sense your fourth orgasm about to land, you surprise him by whispering directly into his ear and raking your nails down his back as hard as you can.
“Only for you, Yoongi.”
His thrusts stutter.
“Fuck!”
He’s coming. 
He’s coming hard. With you, with your name on his lips. It's violent and visceral and vicious and vibrant. It’s beautiful. You’re combined divine deliverance. 
It’s the first time he’s said your name.
And it’s something he’s going to keep locked away in his memory for millenia to come as he covers your inner walls in the most sickeningly sweet shade of white. 
You’re relentless, milking him over and over and over for all he’s worth, not letting up until your body is ready too, ruthless in your quest for ultimate euphoria and he takes it.
Whatever you want. Whatever you need. 
It’s yours. 
He’ll make it so.
At whatever cost to him, you'll get it. There isn't a doubt in his mind as you finally come down, body lighter, eyes glazed over, devastating smile on your lips.
He’s the first to move, going to the bathroom and grabbing a warm, wet cloth to clean you up. You’re blissfully spent, unable to get up even if you wanted to, limbs like jelly, still in a brain fogged haze. 
You got exactly what you wanted.
He cleans his release from your form, naked save for the pink stone he gave you around your neck. Then tosses the cloth in your hamper and lies back down, covering you both with sheets. You cuddle up to him, tossing a leg around his torso, and lying your head on his chest. Contented. 
And he’s silent until he can’t stand it any longer. He has to know.
“What changed?” 
“Hmm?”
“What about tonight made you change your mind?”
You take a deep breath through your nose. “I…stopped fighting it. The feeling like we would never work, the feeling that I would never be good enough, that we were too different,” he listens intently as your fingers trace patterns on his chest, explaining. “And I was sick of denying myself. It’s my birthday. Shouldn't I get whatever I want on my birthday?” 
That seductive smirk makes an appearance.
“Yes.”
“Plus you looked to damn fine in that outfit. A girl only has so much willpower, you know? It’s easier at work when there’s a bar and my job between us, but there was none of that tonight. Just the shots in my system and my unwavering desire to ride your face.”
Yoongi laughs, and you don’t think you’ve ever seen something as beautiful as his smile before. 
“Next time,” he says. A promise.
You fall back into a comfortable silence that has you thinking. 
“What about you?” you ask.
“What about me?”
“Why am I the only one you like? The only one you put up with.”
He ponders for a moment, thinking about how to phrase what he wants to say. 
“I think about the time we met often. There was something about you that was different that day, and I’ve never been able to pinpoint exactly what, but when I saw you I knew I would never think of you the same way I do everyone else. There was something special about your gaze in mine, your company, your soul.” 
“My soul?”
“Mhm.”
“You’ve never asked for mine before.”
“Never needed it.”
At that, you joke, “Is there something you’d sell your soul for?”
“You.” 
Before you can say all the nothing in your head at his answer, he takes a deep breath that has you rising and falling with it. Something about what he’s going to say next is going to have heavy importance to him. 
You just know it. 
“You… made me—make me…want to be better. Do better.”
You’re speechless. Not the kind you were moments before. No, you’re truly and genuinely speechless. 
You never expected anything like that. 
You knew your presence in his life carried a different weight than others, a different air. It’s why you could speak so casually, insult him, and exist near him without fearing for your life. It was something no one had seen from him in thousands of years. 
Kindness. Patience.
The man who’s job it is to run the universes torture capital, punishing those who deserve it without an ounce of mercy for eternity and killing those who looked at him the wrong way. The physical entity of the word evil, wanted to be better. 
Because of you.  
“I don't know what to say.”
“You don't need to say anything,” he kisses the top of your head, tender. “Having you with me is more than enough.”
You can do that. 
“Okay,” you say, craning your neck to kiss him. It’s long, languid, and full of emotions you don't want to acknowledge right now, there’s too many of them to sort through in your post four orgasms brain to be able to process properly. 
Tomorrow you can start. Right now you just want to bask in the afterglow of the most amazing birthday you've ever had.
“So this wasn’t a one time thing?” Yoongi clarifies.
“It definitely wasn't a one time thing,” not a chance in Hell. 
He was yours now. 
The Devil was yours.
King of the Underworld, god among men, catastrophe breathing evil was yours. And it brings the biggest smile to your face.  
“Oh thank fuck.”
“Not thank God?” you tease.
Yoongi groans. “Do not bring my father into this.”
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A/N 3: As always, thanks for reading, loves. Xoxo, - Yoon <3
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2K notes · View notes
btsugarush · 11 months
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GANGSTA | myg [m.list]
❝i’m a fucking criminal, princess.❞
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summary: rough sex, blood money, drugs, and gang related activity; four things you never predicted to experience in your simple life. not until you opened your mouth and caught his attention.
pairings: gang leader!yoongi x f!reader
warnings: smut, gunplay, drugs, drug addiction, dark!yoongi, drug lord!yoongi, strong language, gang violence, blood and gore, murder, manipulation, possessive/obsessive behavior, abuse, cheating, angst, fluff, dubcon, implied noncon (not from yoongi but within his gang with his knowledge), 18+, minors dni
authors note: hello??? why does suga never give me a break? he snapped on haegeum. giving me toxic gang member vibes. this is gonna be a dark, heavily graphic fic. i warn you, if you don’t like anything mentioned in the warnings then this isn’t for you. this story is purely fictional and for your enjoyment, i do not condone gang violence, affiliation or any of the fucked up shit yoongi will do in this story. comment below if you want to be added to the taglist.
©btsugarush. please do not repost.
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4K notes · View notes
jeonjcngkook · 11 months
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clandestine | myg (m) teaser
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pairing: gangleader!yoongi x f!reader
genre(s)&au(s): gang au, bitch better have my money or i'll fuck ur girl au, angst, pwp, smut
rating: 18+
word count: teaser - 405
warning(s)&smut warning(s): strong language, mentions of weapons, threats of murder
summary: bloodthirsty and dangerous, yoongi wont stop until he gets what he is rightful owed. and if you're on offer, then he just cant say no to that.
banner: @kth1 | @kth1fics
note: hehehe...
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“Sir, over here,” you overhear someone whisper — probably having heard the snoring from above you.
The sound of heavy duty combat boots picking up pace and heading straight in your direction makes you still. You don’t move an inch in fear of getting caught, placing a hand over your mouth to keep your breathing at bay.
From underneath the bed, you count five pairs of boots. They move slowly around the bed surrounding you in a circle. Two of them make their way to the side of the bed where Hee-won lies and another two direct themselves to your side of the bed, vanishing behind the comforter that you had pulled down earlier.
The remaining body doesn’t move from the bottom of the bed. Instead, you watch on as he pulls out the chair from underneath the vanity; the scraping of the chair legs against the floor is like nails on a chalkboard causing you to hiss at the sound.
He sits down in the chair and spreads his legs too casually for someone who is breaking into an apartment which can only mean he has done this many times in the past. He’s calculated and smart — knows how to play the game.
The room is silent.
Nobody talks and nobody moves.
Your eyes frantically dart back and forth between their legs, watching for any movement…but nothing. The sound of a large heavy bag being dropped to the floor makes you jump in terror, your body hitting the framing of the bed.
Someone had to have heard that…
Your body chills at the thought of being caught; who knows what awaits you outside of your hiding spot. Who knows what these men are capable of.
You’re able to make out someone shushing those around him and you watch as the man who is sitting in the chair eventually gets up and walks over to the side of the bed to join the other two where Hee-won lays.
One of the men bends down in your peripheral vision as his leather gloves starts to unzip the bag, emptying the contents all over the floor. The sound of metal on metal hitting against each other is deafening in the small bedroom. You watch as guns, knives and an array of other weaponry is scattered in a small pile on the floor.
“Where is she?” You hear who you presume to be the leader of the home invasion ask. “She’s supposed to be here. I swear if this fucker has touched her, I’ll bury him myself.”
5K notes · View notes
yoongiofmine · 8 months
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The Final - Day 02 | MYG | ONESHOT
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MAIN MASTERLIST
Pair: DDAY!Yoongi  x Groupie!Reader 
Summary: You've been Yoongi's go-to companion for the past few years, well aware that's all you were going to be. Despite your very real, growing feelings for the rapper, you took what you could get every time. Now, you're backstage at day two of the final leg of his tour when another member takes an interest in you. Will it be enough to make Yoongi realize he's got competition?
Genre and warnings: Just in case there's any confusion, there's no Day 1 or Day 3, this is a one shot about DAY 2 because he looked hot af (as always), idol au, porn with a lot of plot, Yoongi and that damn chain, day two of the final Seoul concerts because I have to write about DDAY every chance I get.
WC: 16k
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Being Min Yoongi’s go-to groupie had its downsides. 
Like being looked down upon by a few of his staff and crew, and the very real notion that that was all you would ever be to the man. An easy –albeit good– fuck, someone sure to be avaliable whenever he felt like it, someone he knew he could trust even without the NDAs getting involved. 
But it also had its perks. 
Like free backstage access, free ticket to any and every concert your heart desires, being flown around the world to see him just because he “missed you”, the sure notion that you’d be going home with him every time, and unlimited access to his members.
Day two of D-DAY The Final was coming to an end, the last encore of the night was ringing loudly in your ears as you waited for Yoongi to be done with his set tonight. Seoul had never felt hotter than it did this past week, summer in full swing, and it was made even worse by the very hot man blowing off the roof of the KSPO Dome for hundreds of thousands of fans. 
You were holding onto a cold water bottle, sipping from the straw poked on the lid, the kind reserved for the artists performing, no doubt being sent to you by Yoongi himself. Unless the staff girl who delivered it to you had suddenly developed a liking to you, when just this morning she’d be sending you glares during the first, private, soundcheck. 
“I was so embarrassed, like, right at the beginning of the song?” Jungkook had his eyes closed and a light blush on his tanned cheeks. “There's someone in the mirror that you don't know– I didn’t remember any of it.” 
“ARMY was just happy to see you, Kookie, they didn’t even notice it, I promise.” you assured the man, reaching out to squeeze his arm in support. “You were still incredible last night.” 
“I wanted to do it again tonight, to redeem myself, but hyung said no.” the man had a sheepish bunny smile on his lips, leaning just a little closer to you as the screams outside grew louder. 
“Tonight was Jiminie’s turn, but maybe tomorrow?” you offered, watching him shrug in response. 
You were both backstage, where you’d usually stay during concerts that took place in Korea, using one of the storage boxes as a perch. Your feet didn’t really touch the ground from here, legs swinging in the rhythm of the song playing, while Jungkook was standing up next to your knees. 
You and Yoongi had a few almost-getting-caught scares in the past, where some fans recognized your face and thought it was weird that you were a recurring guest at BTS concerts, going as far as speculating if you were one of the members’ secret girlfriend. You made it to the Dispatch twitter feed once and it was enough for Yoongi to grow protective; either of you, or his own image, you didn’t know. 
For this very reason, you usually stayed with the crew, watching from the smaller TV screens instead of mingling in the crowd or reserved VIP seats. 
Jungkook had the option of watching it from the bleachers tonight, too, where Jimin and a few other close guests were, but he decided to keep you company. Out of all of the members, the maknae was the one to go out of his way to keep you entertained, strike up a conversation and just be pleasant whenever you saw each other. The other five were always polite and you didn’t think any of them frowned upon your arrangement with Yoongi, but Jungkook was always the nicest. 
Maybe it was because of his overall friendly and gentle personality, maybe it was because of the crush he held that you pretended not to know about. 
“I’m glad you weren’t here last night.” he chuckled, bringing your eyes from the TV where Yoongi was dancing while introducing his band and back to the young man in front of you. “I would have been mortified if you had seen that.” 
You didn’t have the heart to tell him you watched the concert stream from your home, so you did catch Jungkook’s tiny mess up when he joined Yoongi for the very special performance of Burn It. Instead, you went with: “Oh, I’m sure it was much worse in your head! I wouldn’t even have noticed it.” 
“You’re too nice, noona.” he beamed, hugging his torso by crossing his arms. 
“I am sad I missed the performance of Seven, though.” you continued, watching his face light up. “I really like that song, you know?” 
“Ah, thanks.” his smile turned a little shy, a pretty chuckle slipping from his pierced lips. 
When the final notes of The Last –a truly heartbreaking song that made your heart clench every time you heard it– filled the space, both you and Jungkook turned to the entrance of the backstage area, where staff were already pulling on the curtains and lighting flashlights to illuminate the path. 
Yoongi was dripping in sweat when he appeared, heavy curtains being closed once again, keeping him safe from the public’s view. You could tell, even from far away, that his body was buzzing with adrenaline, hand constantly pushing his hair back; as if he hadn’t done enough of it all night. 
Not that you were complaining, far from it. Yoongi looked stunning at all times, but there was something about his concert afterglow, almost as ethereal as how he looked after a good orgasm. 
His team was all over him in a second, girls dabbing a clean white towel to dry his sweat, someone else offering him a water bottle that looked exactly like yours, a staff reaching into the back of his shirt to pull out the cords of his earpiece and remove his mic pack. 
Only after bowing and waving them off, Yoongi looked around, just like you knew he would. He was nibbling on the inside of his lips, eyebrows kissing as he searched for something. 
As he searched for you. 
Because you never made it easy for him, you never rushed out to find him, and he knew that. It was bad enough people around knew what you were to each other, knew you were only there to take away Yoongi’s pent up energy, but you’d be sent on your way home at the end of the night. 
You didn’t need to be known as the clingy fuck buddy that didn’t know her place. 
But it never took Yoongi too long to find you, and your stomach was swarmed with red colored butterflies every time he did. 
“Get the car ready.” Yoongi told his manager, eyes stuck on you as he gave out the order. “Gonna make my way out right now. Just give me a minute.” 
“Sure, Yoongi-ssi. Good job tonight.” the man bowed and pulled out a radio device from his pocket, walking away as he relayed the information: “Car one, on the ready. Standby–”
Yoongi was a man on a mission as he walked up to you, your face breaking into the prettiest smile as you saw him see you. You were so fucking pretty tonight, it was as if you didn’t want him to hold off long enough to get out of the venue. Your pretty black dress had been a present from Yoongi himself, brought to you from his latest trip to Japan, and it was the first time he’d ever seen you wearing it. 
Because the teasing mirror selcas you took when you received the package didn’t count. Not by a long shot. Your breasts looked a lot softer in person, the bit of shimmer he could see covering the perfectly round mounds could be either from sweat, despite the AC working hard to keep the backstage cool, or from whatever lotion you liked to apply that made your skin smell and look so good. 
You were temptation on legs, the kind Yoongi couldn’t resist. He hadn’t for years now, wasn’t about to start, either. 
Breaking his tunnel vision, a wider frame blocked Yoongi’s view of you. Wide chest and tattoos making Yoongi falter, stance almost breaking as Jungkook opened his arms to hug him. 
“Hyung! You were so cool up there!” the maknae clinged to him, obviously not minding his sweaty shirt clinging to his chest. “Are you feeling better?”
Yoongi hadn’t seen Jungkook in the VIP area, alongside Jimin and his friends that came to watch the concert tonight, he didn’t even know the youngling would be here tonight. Had Jungkook been backstage all night? With you? Looking like that?
“Thanks, Kook-ah.” he patted the man on the back, gently pushing him off to break the hug. “I’m fine, about to crash.” 
“Hey.” you were greeting, still seated behind Jungkook, making Yoongi step around him to finally get to you. 
Your sweet smile was still there even Yoongi held both sides of your face in his slightly trembling hands to press a kiss to your lips. Your hands held onto his shirt, squeezing and tugging him closer. And Yoongi wanted nothing more than to lick into your mouth, slip his hand to the back of your neck and show everyone just who would be taking you home tonight. 
But you were the one to break the kiss, looking down as if you were shy –which was weird enough, as you were never shy with him–, but then your eyes looked at a spot behind Yoongi’s shoulder, where Jungkook was very much watching the exchange, despite pretending he wasn’t bothered by it. 
It made Yoongi frown, a small twist in his guts and the picking up of his already haywire heart sitting uncomfortably in his chest. 
“Come.” Yoongi called to you, offering you his hand, being thankful when you took it without hesitation. You jumped from your spot on the equipment box, letting Yoongi keep you by his side. Turning to Jungkook, he checked: “You’re leaving now, too? Or are you going with Jimin?” 
Yoongi started to walk, bringing you along and Jungkook got into step with the two of you, on Yoongi’s other side. With a small shake of his head, the maknae spoke:
“Jimin hyung already left, but I think my car is already waiting too.” 
“Good, get home safe.” Yoongi patted the boy on his back, adding: “Sleep so that you can heal from that cough. Don’t go drinking and turning on a live.” 
“I like his random lives.” you giggled, short legs forcing you to almost skip in order to keep up with the two of them. 
“Don’t enable him, kitten.” Yoongi sent you a look, but you only grinned harder. 
The path had been cleared out for the artist to exit the venue as quickly as possible. The longer he took, the more fans would be leaving the KSPO, the more difficult it would be for a swift getaway; not to mention all the traffic and reporters that could most likely follow. 
Two cars were already waiting right by the backstage garage and Jungkook was led into the closest one first. Yoongi was already pulling you to the car in front of it, the one that was assigned to him, when Jungkook’s calling made you stop. 
“Noona, I’ll text you about that coffee, okay?” the way Jungkook avoided looking at Yoongi wasn’t lost on the rapper. 
“Looking forward to it!” was your small reply as you waved. 
Yoongi gave your hand a little squeeze, your cue to hurry up. You never knew who could be lurking in underground garages afterall, so you bowed your head to avoid hitting it on the roof of the car and stepped in. Yoongi was right behind you, the door being shut right away. Two taps to the roof of the vehicle has the driver turning it on and quickly exiting the venue. 
“What was that about coffee?” Yoongi asked you, not bothering to put on his seatbelt as he let his body mold into the cool backseat. “Are you sharing recipes now?”
“Ah, no. He mentioned wanting to take me out for coffee and asked for my number.” you replied, hoping Yoongi wouldn’t be bothered by it. One of his eyes parted to look at you, an unreadable expression crossing his face. 
“And you said yes?” 
You shrugged a little, licking between your lips. “Is there a reason why I shouldn’t?” 
“Guess not.” Yoongi offered you a tight lipped smile, but yours faltered. 
This was one of the things that really bothered you in this arrangement you had going on with Yoongi. The blindness of this man when it comes to your own feelings. You couldn’t even really blame him for it, when you knew what you were getting yourself into from the start. You knew right away Yoongi didn’t like relationships, he was much too chill to look for labels, to make himself stuck with one person when he was already too busy for his own liking. 
And you were okay with that for a long while, you were still okay with this, or you would have put a stop to it any time he called you for a late night or middle of the day booty call. But sometimes you looked at him and your heart did a thing. That’s when it was a little harder to swallow down the lump in your throat and accept that this is all you would ever be to him, until the day his someone special came along. 
Someone you knew he couldn’t say no to, someone who wouldn’t settle for less, someone so incredible they might take Yoongi’s heart. 
Or until your someone showed up in your life. 
You hoped for that to happen first. 
Maybe with Jungkook. 
You watched with a heavy heart as Yoongi reached for the air conditioning controls in the panel of the door on his side to make the backseat all the cooler. 
“It was really hot today, wasn’t it?” you changed the subject swiftly. 
“Fuck yeah, and the lights don’t make it better.” Yoongi chuckled in that raspy way of his and you were gone. Making home in his back pocket, fitting on the palm of his hand, wrapping yourself around his pinky finger. “I was dripping out there.” 
“So was I.” you offered him a little smirk as his eyes met yours, lowering as he watched you bite your bottom lip. “You looked really hot.” 
“Liked what you saw?” he drawed out, leaning closer to you, pushing your hair away from your neck to replace it with his lips. 
“Very much.” you tilted your head to the side, sighing in bliss as he kissed all over your heated skin. “Why don’t you check?” 
Yoongi’s laugh was raspy from the hours of using his voice, sending tingles all over you as you gently pried your legs open in an invitation. His hand found your thigh, no hesitation or concerns about the fact that this car didn’t have any partition, so all it would take was one look at the rearview mirror for the driver to see Yoongi cupping your cunt. 
Upon finding the wetness you could feel all night, Yoongi’s teeth sunk in on your neck, holding his bite until he was sure he’d leave a mark. You moaned as quietly as you could, gasping as his tongue licked the spot to soothe the ache. 
“Guess the concert was really good.” he spoke quietly, more for himself, dragging his middle finger up and down your damp underwear. 
“You were growling a lot.” you admitted, hands on the edge of the bench as you used it to ground yourself. “And your chain during the second half–”
“What about it, kitten?” Yoongi wanted to know, drawing circles right above your clit. 
“It–it looked like a collar on a leash.” you couldn’t help the small rocking of your hips as you tried to chase after his touch when Yoongi moved his hand away. 
“I asked to keep it.” the man said as you blinked heavily enough to make your brain work a little faster again. He reached into his pocket, pulling out a long, metal chain. “I asked because I knew you’d like it.” 
“Oh my god.” you let out a tiny giggle as Yoongi held the jewelry up for you to see. “Can I see it?” 
“It’s yours, kitten.” 
There was a silly, bubbling feeling making your stomach hot and cold at the same time. Yoongi dragged the chain on your naked thigh, sending goosebumps all over your legs as you felt the weight and the coldness of it. He let you take it from his hand, let you see all of the heavy links making up the whole body of the chain. You could see the small, circular ring in the middle, clasping it closed so it would make the same shape it did around Yoongi’s neck earlier. You had a few necklaces like these, reminding you of a leash more than an actual piece of jewelry, but they were a lot more delicate and thin than this. 
Lifting it up to your nose, you breathed in Yoongi’s natural musk, as it was covered in his sweat, and his favorite perfume. Masculine, but never overbearing. Your favorite smell in the whole world. 
“Thank you, Yoongi.” you smiled at him, keeping the chain in your hold even as the car moved past Yoongi’s gate. 
The Hannam-dong area was a lot more lavish than your own neighborhood, quiet and made up of homes and apartment complexes you would never be able to afford, even if your modeling agency decided to pay what you believed you deserved. 
Somehow, it matched Yoongi perfectly. That quiet, unobtainable life that reminded you so much of himself. 
Yoongi got out of the car as soon as it was parked in front of the entrance of his building, holding the door open for you to do the same. His driver was already rushing to the booth to retrieve Yoongi’s backpack, where his own clothes, phone and personal belongings were stored and placed in the car ready for his exit. 
“Should I wait for you, sir?” the man asked, but what he really meant was ‘should I wait for you to be done?’. 
It didn’t bother you that he knew the nature of your visit, but the way the driver didn’t directly speak to you, or even look at your face, irked you every time. 
“That won’t be necessary, you can go home.” Yoongi told him simply, throwing his bag over his shoulder. “Goodnight, Mr. Jeong.” 
“Goodnight, sir.” he bowed to his employer and you didn’t even try to say goodbye. 
Yoongi noticed how quiet you got, how could he not? He brought your hand up to his lips to kiss the back of it, honest and earning eyes making sure you knew he was all that mattered, all you should focus on. And you would gladly do it, too. 
With an arm around your waist, Yoongi led you into the building, past security and into the elevator. You could see the adrenaline was slowly moving away and leaving him; you knew what was coming next, already wondering what kind of food he’d order for dinner. 
“Will you really make Mr. Jeong leave his bed when it's time to drive me home?” you asked Yoongi while the elevator took you up to the third floor of the short building. “Not that I mind too much, but he already doesn’t like me.” 
You were perfectly fine taking a cab or a general paid ride, but Yoongi never liked that, always preferring that his driver take you home. It was a safer option, privacy and all that. 
But then he spoke words you never thought you’d hear from him:
“You’re not going home tonight.” Yoongi shrugged, as if it was a common occurrence, having you stay over. “Is that okay?” 
“You never ask me to stay the night.” you babbled, walking out of the elevator to wait in the hallway as he unlocked his front door. 
“We’ve spent the night together before, what are you talking about?” Yoongi looked at you as if you were crazy, letting you walk into the apartment first. 
You scoffed, taking your shoes off by the door as Yoongi did the same after turning on the main lights and locking the door after himself. 
“Yeah, when we’re out of town.” you pointed out. “At hotels, or rented places. Not when we’re here and I have a perfectly good home to go back to.” 
“Mhm.” he hummed, as if tracing his memories to find out if what you were saying was right. Before you could move much further down the hallway, Yoongi held you by your waist, taking a step to press you against the closest wall. You sucked in a small breath as his nose bumped against yours. “If that’s true, then it’s about time we change that.” 
You couldn’t help the skyrocketing of your heart at Yoongi’s words. Despite your brain begging you to not believe it, that he was just saying that to get you to melt and turn putty in hold. But it was small moments like these, little things he did or said that made the lines so deeply drawn in the sand to blur. You wouldn't mind getting rid of it altogether. 
Yoongi’s teeth nibbled on your bottom lip, pulling it into his mouth to suck on. Your hand slipped into his hair, wet with a mixture of sweat and hair products. 
"Yoongi–" you sighed blissfully, pressing your body into his as your every nerve ending craved him. 
It was then that the pitter patter of short nails on marble and a small whine, followed by a bark made you pull your lips from Yoongi’s grasp. 
You gasped for a whole different reason, pushing Yoongi away in order to properly look at the tiny dog jumping on his hind legs to greet you and his appa. 
"You didn't tell me you got Holly back!" you chirped, settling on your knees to coo and pet Yoongi's dog as he laid on the floor, showing you his tummy. 
Holly, the brown poodle, had a bit of a shared parenting situation, where he would stay with Yoongi in Seoul whenever he had a work schedule that allowed him to stay in Seoul for a while. The other half of the time, he'd stay in Daegu with Yoongi’s parents, who treated the puppy like a grandson. 
You've met Yoongi’s parents once before, and things weren't as awkward as they could have been, considering. You knew they were in town to watch Yoongi’s concert yesterday, so it didn't surprise you they brought Holly back. 
"Wanted it to be a surprise." Yoongi smiled, melting your insides into goo. "It would be too easy to make you want to stay if you knew he's home." 
You rolled your eyes, which he couldn't see, as if it would ever be hard for Yoongi to convince you to spend the night. 
"Well, now I might just stay the weekend." you bluffed, not really expecting the words to come out of his mouth next. 
"You're welcome to." he simply stated, getting back to his original height after tickling Holly into squirming. 
"Alright, now I'm worried." you chuckled nervously, standing up as well. 
"What?" 
"Why do you want me to stay so much?" you pondered, following him down the hall towards his bedroom. "Am I not gonna be able to walk tomorrow or something?" 
"Oh, shut up." he laughed, pulling you to him by your waist, gluing his front to your back as he dragged you into his room. Walking with a grown man stuck to you was tricky, but you would never complain. "Shower with me." 
"But Holly–" 
"He'll still be here when we're done." he whined, nuzzling his face into your neck. 
It wouldn't need much convincing on his part to get you to agree to shower with him, when you knew exactly what he looked like under the running water of his fancy ass rain shower. 
You dropped your purse and gifted chain on top of Yoongi’s bed on the way to the bathroom, barely missing it on Yoongi’s rush to drag you into it fast enough to lock Holly out. The puppy barked a couple of times before going to find something else to do. 
“Should we order food now so it's here when we're out?” you asked Yoongi as the thought just now crossed your mind. 
“I don't want to have to rush.” Yoongi answered after pondering for a couple of seconds. “Are you too hungry now?”
“No, but I know you.” you mused, crossing your arms. “You have your after concert phases.”
“Phases?” he enquired, tilting his head as he held the hem of his shirt between his fingers. 
“Mhm. First you get horny, which is why you're dragging me into the shower.” you lifted a finger, then another. “And then you get hungry and cranky if you don’t eat right away.”
“I don't get cranky–” he snorted, pulling his shirt off the rest of the way. 
You hadn’t seen Yoongi like this for a couple of weeks, as you were busy with work and he was rehearsing for the last three concerts of his tour. Although, if you were being honest, you’d drool over his body even if you were lucky enough to see him naked everyday. 
Yoongi was gorgeous all over, and he’d put on some very appreciated weight, as he usually did during tours. It meant he was eating well, which would always make you happy when you worried for his well being on the road. His chest muscles were filled up, biceps bulging, and a soft, yet lean, stomach that you planned on kissing and biting before the end of the night. 
“Okay, if you're sure, we can order after the shower.” you settled, knowing the possibility of coming to regret it was very much real. 
“I am.” he assured you, despite you knowing him like the back of your hand. 
Soon after, his pants were joining his shirt on the black marble floor, along with his boxers. You liked the fact that, during his solo concerts, Yoongi didn’t have to wear the protection cups male idols had to use when dancing was involved. To this day, you still remembered laughing about the weird piece when you helped Yoongi undress when he forgot he still had it on.
And, to confirm your theory about Yoongi’s ‘post concert phases’, his cock was very much half hard and hanging long. Phase one was in full force, it seemed. It also explained why he was so impatiently waiting for you to undress, despite already walking into the glass shower stall and turning it on. 
You took your time taking your dress off when you heard: 
“That dress looks really good on you.” Yoongi was eating you with his eyes from behind the shower door, talking a little louder so you’d hear him. 
“Thank you, it was a gift.” you beamed, letting the black piece fall to the floor. 
“Whoever gave it to you has good taste.” he gloated, which made you laugh as you hooked your fingers on the sides of your underwear. 
“Eh, his ego is too big, so don’t tell him I agree.” 
After getting naked, much to Yoongi’s relief, you stepped into the shower, breathing in the steam, feet relaxing after being in uncomfortable shoes for so many hours. Yoongi was already dripping from head to toe, wet hair long and pushed back and away from his infuriatingly handsome face. His eyes were closed as he rubbed soap on his lids to remove his makeup. 
You approached him sheepishly, hands on his sides as you kissed his chest and collarbones. Yoongi sighed in satisfaction at feeling you close, tipping his head back to get rid of the soap on his face so he could look at you. Water splashed on you, and his own body temperature was telling. 
“Isn’t the water too hot for you?” you questioned, continuing to kiss his body as your hands roamed his back and you pressed your fronts together. 
“A little, but that’s how you like it.” he shrugged, wrapping his arms around you and taking a step back so you could both share the water stream. “Is it okay?” 
“It’s perfect, but you usually complain about it.” you pointed out, linking your hands behind his back, not really planning on letting him go for the time being. 
“Just because it makes me all pink and flushed.” he chuckled, having a little bit of a hard time to reach for his facial soap and squirt some of it on his palms. “But you also like that, so.” 
“I always think you’re cute.” you trailed off, closing your eyes as he started to massage your face with gentle fingers to also remove your makeup. And he always did a much better job than if you did it yourself. 
“So I went from hot to cute in less than an hour?” Yoongi complained with a whine to his tone, making you laugh. 
“You are a man of many faces.” your eyes were still closed as Yoongi moved from your face to massage the water into your scalp, the hot stream relaxing every muscle on your body as it fell freely onto the two of you. “Agust D is hot. Yoongi is cute.” 
The man in question was laughing and you felt it all over you as his chest rumbled and his shoulders were shaking, bringing a smile to your own lips. When you finally opened your eyes, you regretted immensely. Because the way he was looking at you was not the way you look at someone you’re just fucking. 
You hadn’t decided yet if those loving eyes were hurtful or proof that it was okay to hope. You weren’t ready yet to have your heart broken, in case you were painfully wrong, so you had to change it fast. And the way you found to do that, was to bring your hands to his front, dragging them down his stomach. 
Yoongi’s gaze darkened, which was something you were much more used to dealing with. His breathing grew labored in anticipation, forehead pressing against yours as your fingertips reached the short patch of hair and found his erection. 
“You complain I get horny after concerts, but you’re always enabling me,” he groaned as your hand wrapped around his base and you squeezed him lightly. “So, it’s your own fault.” 
“I’m such a horrible person for doing that.” you smiled against his jaw, running your hand up and down his cock, bringing him into fullness. “Should I stop?”
His fingertips pressed harder against your sides, a warning for you to stay where you were, doing exactly what you were doing. Yoongi’s lips searched for and found yours, starting a wet kiss that made your knees tremble. One of his hands left your sides to hold the back of your neck, tongue coaxing your mouth to open and let it in. 
Your lips parted and you chased his tongue with yours. You explored each other’s mouths as if you didn’t have them mapped out at this point, as if you didn’t know what that tongue could do, or how he had a bit of a biting problem when it came to your lips. Yoongi’s kiss always felt like the first kiss all over again, enough to make your heart buzz in your ears and your body respond to it in ways that should be shameful. 
Yoongi took your bottom lip into his mouth, giving it tiny tugs and long sucks, making you moan against his mouth as your hand closed around his tip. 
“You still have that soap?” you asked quietly as you couldn’t properly move your hand with all that water. 
“I always keep a bottle here, in case you come over.” Yoongi nodded, searching for the bottle in question amongst the hair and body products he kept in the ledge of his shower wall. 
“Always prepared.” you giggled, letting go of his cock to offer your palm up to him. 
The soap he poured on your hand was oil-based; a specific kind of lube-like product advertised for these very moments. The bottle was almost empty, definitely less than the last time you saw it, and you hoped he used it on his own, instead of using it with other partners. You didn’t think Yoongi would have the time or the patience to entertain multiple people at the same time, but you would never be brave enough to ask him about it either. 
When you brought your hand back down, the glide up and down his cock was much easier, making Yoongi groan in pleasure and throw his head back, the perfect opportunity for you to kiss his long neck, feeling as he swallowed hard when you closed your fist around his tip again, flicking your wrist a couple of times. 
“Much better.” you mumbled against his neck as you licked and sucked on tiny spots of his shoulder you knew would be covered by his shirt at tomorrow's concert. 
“I’ll say so–” Yoongi agreed breathlessly, hips moving a little faster to fuck himself into your hand. 
Before putting the bottle where it belonged, Yoongi took a bit of product into his own hand, spreading it on his fingers and bringing his arm between your bodies. You were already parting your feet carefully not to slip in the process, but giving Yoongi enough room to slip his hand between your legs. 
“Dunno why I use this,” you could feel the smirk in his tone as two fingers slipped between your folds. “You’re always so wet for me.” 
You had a comeback on the tip of your tongue, you were sure of it. Too bad you couldn’t remember what it was as his fingers kept dragging up and down your folds, just barely grazing your clit before moving lower to tease your little hole. 
Your forehead rested against his shoulder as you held his cock with both hands, working on his shaft as you diligently flicked your wrist just under his tip, using your thumb to spread the lube and the slick dripping out him, circling his velvety head. 
“Fuck, you know just how to touch me–” he cursed lowly, chest almost trembling the more you did what he liked. “Getting me so close, kitten.” 
“I know, it’s my favorite talent.” you smiled to yourself, slipping one hand between his legs to cup his balls. 
“Aw, shit–” 
Seeing as you were playing with the tread keeping him on this earth, Yoongi focused on his own hand between your legs, done with the teasing, bringing the pads of his fingers to your bundle of nerves. Yoongi played with your clit, pulling the hood back, letting the slippery, swollen nub slip between his fingers as he moved them up and down, massaging the sane out of your brain. 
There were a few reasons why his staff didn’t like you, and the fact you couldn’t really control your noises when it came to Yoongi was definitely an easy one to point out. You weren’t ever wailing and yelling bloody murder, but when Yoongi made you feel good, you let him know. The shower water wasn’t enough to muffle your moans, and the man was throbbing and pulsing in your hands from how much he enjoyed hearing your every sound. 
“Oh, please–” you cried out when his fingers moved down again, the tip of one pushing inside your clenching hole. 
“Yeah, kitten?” a rhetorical question, yet you still nodded. Yoongi’s voice was low and borderline immoral as he teased: “Want them inside this tight little pussy?”
“I do��” you mewled, almost losing focus on your own hand movements.  
Yoongi circled your entrance again, tearing out whimpers from you, until you lifted your head to look at him. You knew he never resisted when you looked at him like this; big eyes, wet lashes sticking together, a tiny pout on your lips. It was enough for him to push his digits inside you, just to watch your eyes roll back and your jaw fall slack. 
The stretch was minimal from how aroused you were, how wet you felt all night, and the soap definitely made it even easier for Yoongi to push them as deep as he could. 
“Faster, baby.” he groaned with one swift movement of his hips. “Wanna make a mess on you.”
“You’re so hard.” you mumbled between moans of your own, both hands closing around his thickness and jerking him off faster. 
Your hands moved up and down, tugging and squeezing. When you looked down, between your wet bodies, you saw how his usually pale pink tip was colored red, as if he’d been holding back. You wondered if it was painful and if it was blending with his arousal, making every stroke feel better and better. 
His fingers hooked inside you, the angle just right and practiced, finding your sweet spot with ease. Yoongi’s palm pressed against your clit, rubbing it as his fingers fucked in and out of you fast enough to make your vision blurr and your legs shake. At every upstroke, he hit your g-spot perfectly, close to making you unravel fast. 
Taking you by surprise, Yoongi hooked his free hand on your thigh, lifting it and holding it up, opening you up so that his hand could reach a new angle that made you whimper loudly. One of your hands held onto his shoulder for balance, even if you knew he’d never let you slip. 
It would be so easy for you to bring his cock into your entrance like this, the angle was almost perfect. You were both looking at each other’s hands and Yoongi read your mind as he said: 
“Later, kitten. Wanna take my time when I fuck you later.” 
“But I love your cock so much.” you complained with no real bite. 
“I also know you like my fingers.” he sounded smug, but no lies had been told tonight. “Want you to cum around them first, okay?” 
“Uh-huh–” 
All left for you to do was to agree, you were already so close just from his fingering that you might not have the time to bring him into your pulsating walls. Yoongi focused his efforts into fucking you just right, beautiful knobby fingers working your cunt fast and hard, just as you stroked his cock with as much passion as he was giving you. 
But Yoogi wouldn’t cum before making you unravel, no matter how painfully hard his cock was in your hand. Lucky for him, all it took were the three words delivered to your ear, in that gravely tone of his, to have you coming undone. 
“Cum for me.” 
It wasn’t a request, not even permission, but an order that was easy to obey. You didn’t even have that much control over your actions when Yoongi was commanding your body as well as he was. Your lower stomach tensed and your nails sunk in on his shoulder, gard enough for him to hiss and hold you a little harder. You trembled endlessly as he kept fucking you, guinding you through what you could only describe as a mind blowing orgasm you only ever reached when you were with Yoongi. 
When he gently let your leg go, making sure you wouldn’t lose your balance, your second hand reached for his cock so you could make him cum for you right away. You pumped him up and down, hands covering his tip, then slipping all the way down to his base. Yoongi’s moans were the best thing you heard all night, and after a concert filled with growls, note changes and his fast rap, it was saying something. 
Thick ropes shot out from his flushed tip, hitting part of your chest and your stomach, painting you with his pleasure. There was so much of it coming that you wondered if he even touched himself from the last time you were together. For some irrational reason, you liked that theory, saving it into your heart even if it wasn’t true. 
“Fuck, how do you always do that?” Yoongi moved his fingers out of your pussy, holding you by the ribs to press your body flush against his. 
“Do what?” you sounded a little drunk as you were forced to let go of his cock with his movements. 
“Drive me crazy.” he explained as you circled his neck with your weak and tired arms. 
“Bet you say that to everyone.” apparently your brain and your heart were disconnected as you spoke those words. 
If only you knew you had nothing to worry about when all Yoongi said was: 
“There’s no one else, kitten.”
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Yoongi was taking too long to get off the phone with his parents, you could hear him repeat ‘yes, eomma’ a few dozen times in the past ten minutes. You knew he must be starving by now, you definitely were and you weren’t even the one jumping around for two hours. 
Your shower took a little longer than expected as you both forgot just how hard oil-based lube was to wash off, not to mention washing Yoongi’s hair, and then yours. By the time the food finally arrived, your lover was cranky –as you knew he would be– and it was way past midnight. 
You were wearing one of his shirts, kindly offered to you as your impromptu sleepover didn’t allow you to pack an overnight bag and you didn’t have any spare clothes in his closet. It was rare when he brought you home, and you had never stayed over the whole night. 
Instead of dissecting what any of this could mean, you focused on opening all of the takeout boxes and spreading them around the center table of his living room. You had never tried this restaurant before, but ever since spending some time in Thailand, Yoongi was addicted to Thai food. He ordered dishes that you just had to try, resulting in a lot more food than you were positive you could finish. 
“God, I love that woman, but she drives me crazy sometimes.” Yoongi was walking down the hall to meet you in his living room. 
He was wearing nothing but gray sweatpants, low on his hips, shirtless torso as his neck and shoulders were a little flushed from the hot shower and what obviously was a vexing conversation with his mother. 
“Is everything okay?” you weren’t too concerned, knowing how their relationship had its ups and downs. The two were too much alike to function smoothly at all times. 
“Yeah, she just couldn’t understand why I can’t go to brunch with her, hyung and Chun-hae.” Yoongi sighed dramatically, sitting on the couch at your side. “‘What plans can be more important than having a meal with your family and your brother’s new wife?’” 
You were laughing at his imitation of Mrs. Min, covering your mouth while you chewed and attempted to swallow a piece of duck meat without choking. “If you have plans for tomorrow morning, then maybe you shouldn’t have asked me to stay?” 
“You’re part of the plans.” he told you without hesitating and you swallowed hard. 
“Morning sex is hardly an excuse to skip breakfast with your family.” you pointed out, checking your phone to look at the time. Maybe you could still text Yoongi’s driver to pick you up after dinner. 
“That’s not all– what the hell is that?” Yoongi was staring at you with a deadpan that made you look at yourself, then at the center table you were sitting behind of. 
“Uh… I was hungry, so I started to–”
“No, that in your hand.” his eyes were squinting as you lifted your phone, understanding right away what he was talking about. “An iPhone? Really?” 
“Oh my god, don’t start. The camera is really good in this phone.” you huffed, wondering just how much Samsung was paying him to be this pro-Galaxy. Flipping your phone around, you showed him your case: “Look, I even have your photocard in the back.” 
That made him stop, cheeks flushed, fighting with the corner of his lips to stay down. 
“Still. I’ll get you a new Galaxy.” he stated and you scoffed. “And some D-DAY stickers.” 
“I’ll take the stickers.” 
You scooted a little to the side, patting the spot on the rug next to you for Yoongi to sit next to you, unwrapping the spare chopsticks and parting them in the middle before offering them to him. Yoongi took them with a tired sigh and licked his lips as he looked over the food options. 
While he started to eat, you opened the can of diet coke for him, the noise making Holly lift his head in curiosity, studying you from where he was laying between the TV and the table. 
“Why are you watching a still picture?” Yoongi asked with a full mouth of veggies and noodles, bottom lip shiny with the sauce. 
“It’s not a still picture, he just went to get a drink.” you explained, reaching for the noodles Yoongi had just tried to do the same. “You don’t recognize that room?”
The image on TV was still, you’d give him that, but just because Jungkook wasn’t in the frame. You could kind of hear his footsteps and the clicking of ice as the boy made himself another drink. It took Yoongi a few seconds to realize what you were watching, the Weverse logo at the corner being an easy giveaway. 
“He’s live again?!” Yoongi groaned, making you laugh. 
“He was doing an unboxing of your album.” you told Yoongi, watching him chew in pout. “Which, by the way, why does he get an autographed copy and I don’t?” 
“You said you wanted to buy the album yourself.” Yoongi looked at you as if you just told him the craziest thing. 
“Yeah, because I’m a supporting friend.” nagged. “Doesn’t mean I wouldn’t accept an extra, signed copy.” 
“Okay, I’ll sign a spare copy and give it to you later.” Yoongi decided, but you were already shaking your head. 
“I don’t want a pity album!” 
“Okay, then I won’t give it to you!” he bickered, taking a scoop of rice and bringing it to you, instead of his own mouth. 
You let him feed you the sweet rice, watching him watch the way your lips closed around his chopsticks as he dragged them out of your mouth. His own cheeks were filled with food, but you would still kiss the shit out of him right now if he let you. 
“Can you make it out ‘to kitten’?” you relented. “And sign it as Agust D?” 
“Sure, kitten.” 
You smiled with a closed mouth, not trying to flash him while you chewed your food. 
Yoongi made a good decision when ordering Thai food as you didn’t dislike anything you tried from the assortment of things Yoongi picked. Now you had one more reason to wish you were able to go to Thailand with him; if it wasn’t for a new clothing line you had to take pictures for, you would have made it, too. It was bad enough that you missed out on his boat rides and snorkeling, now you knew you missed a whole lot of good food, too. 
The two of you ate in partial silence as you watched Jungkook get back into frame with a microphone that had apparently been gifted to him by Spotify, singing a song or two, but mostly talking to his audience. He kept bringing up Yoongi’s concert and you knew he was still beating himself up for messing up the lyrics. 
“Is that all you are?” Yoongi asked, but he was looking ahead, so you weren’t sure he was even talking to you. 
“Hm?” you reached for a napkin to wipe your lips clean, already full just by watching him eat. 
“A supporting friend?” he still didn’t look at you, but your previous words rang back to you. 
You frowned, surprised Yoongi was still stuck on that when you didn’t even remember what you were talking about anymore. But his question, and his small frown, confused you. 
“Aren’t we friends?” you asked quietly as you pulled your knees up to your chest. “Do I not support you?”
“We are and you do.” was his simple answer. 
“Then what’s wrong with what I said?” you wanted to know, but didn’t want to push him in any way. You could tell there was a lot going on his mind right now, the adrenaline of the concert completely gone by now. 
“Nothing, I guess.” he shrugged, resting his back against the couch behind you, pausing the movements of his chopsticks to look at you. “Just feels a little weird to call you a friend when I can still smell your cum on my fingers.”
“What do you want to call me then?” 
Your voice was weak as you rested your chin on your knee, watching his eyes twitch ever so slightly, his tongue poke between his lips to wipe off any leftover sauce. Your heart was betraying you as your stomach felt cold at the prospects of his answer. 
Unfortunately or not, his answer was a simple:
“Guess I haven’t given it much thought.” 
All you could do was hum in agreement, lost in your own thoughts as your eyes moved back to the TV. You couldn’t help but wonder if Yoongi would give it a thought now that it was brought to his attention, or if he’d dismiss it altogether and things would always stay the way they were. 
“I was at hyung’s concert tonight again, he is so cool, isn’t he? Hyung worked hard.” Jungkook spoke up, so much fondness when it came to Yoongi that you wondered if he could be the maknae’s favorite hyung. “Ah, no I wasn’t sitting with Jimin hyung, which is why you didn’t see me. I was, uh– backstage with someone else.” 
You knew you were the ‘someone else’ in question, a small smile arising in your lips at the mention. 
“No, I can’t tell you who it was, stop asking.” Jungkook scolded playfully. “And stop calling me Ian–” 
You laughed at the mention of Ian and Jungkook’s tiny mistake when outing his secret Tiktok account, only realizing Yoongi was staring at you when you felt his burning gaze. It made your neck flush, but you pretended not to notice it. 
“Okay, I’m gonna go now.” the boy on TV started to wave at the millions of fans watching him, just as Yoongi got up to get the half empty takeout containers back to the kitchen. “Please support hyung at tomorrow’s concert too.” 
You turned the television off before Jungkook was properly gone, not really liking the way Yoongi had grown quiet all of a sudden. You picked up the last boxes left behind and followed him into the kitchen, helping him find the correct plastic lids to each one, seeing as he was a little distracted. 
The ping on your phone alerted you of a new text message coming in, both you and Yoongi looking at the device on top of the kitchen island on pure reflex. 
Jungkookie sent you a message, unlock to view. 
You looked at Yoongi in time to watch his shoulders drop as he turned around to throw away the used chopsticks. You always enjoyed the view of his back muscles, the 7 tattoo on his shoulder, knowing you were one of the few to know it was there, but you hated how his head was hanging forward and his posture was slouching. 
“He isn’t wasting any time, huh?” came his voice, even if he wasn’t looking at you again. 
“I’m sure it’s nothing.” you cursed yourself internally; you didn’t have to make Yoongi feel better about this. If he didn’t know what you should call each other, then Jungkook might. If only it was that easy to ignore whatever was bothering Yoongi. 
The man hummed again, in that way that told you nothing. You reached for your phone to read the message: 
Jungkookie: Were you watching the live, noona?
Harmless, just making conversation, making sure he had your right number, perhaps. And then your phone pinged again.
Jungkookie: Are you going to watch hyung’s concert tomorrow again? 
You: Hi, Kookie! Yes, we watched your live. I liked the purple lights in your room. 
You: And I’m not sure I’m coming to the concert tomorrow yet. 
Jungkookie: If you’re not planning on seeing hyung tomorrow, then can we grab something to eat instead? 
Jungkookie: My lights are much cooler in person. 
Maybe he really wasn’t wasting any time indeed. You didn’t know what you were expecting to feel when giving Jungkook your number, but… This wasn’t it. Yes it was exciting and it was nice to be asked out on a proper date, to have someone as cool as Jungkook being obviously interested in you. 
But what would happen if you said yes? Would you end up in his bedroom with the excuse of seeing his cool lights? If it didn’t happen on the first day, what if it happened on the third? Would you even be able to make it to the second date without thinking of Yoongi and what it would mean for the two of you? 
“Everything okay, kitten?” his voice was quiet, maybe a little reluctant. 
You looked up from your phone then, deciding you wouldn’t make any conclusions tonight. 
“Of course, everything is fine.” you locked your phone and put it on silent mode, locking the screen and placing it on top of the island once more. “Should we finish cleaning up?” 
“I already cleared everything.” Yoongi told you and you looked over your shoulder, realizing that all of the trash had already been taken care of and the food was stored in the fridge. 
“Oh.” 
“I lost you there for a minute.” 
Yoongi’s words felt heavy on his chest and he didn’t even know why. 
Or maybe he did and just wasn't ready to properly dissect what he was feeling tonight. From learning Jungkook spent all night keeping you company, to how he asked for your number and you gave it to him, and to how you were obviously texting each other already. 
Yoongi knew of Jungkook’s crush on you, the maknae didn't really hide it; big eyes always so obvious and honest. But Yoongi didn’t think Jungkook would ever do anything about it. Wasn't it against some kind of rulebook? 
Don't mess with your brother’s… Girl? Friend? Fuck buddy? 
Yoongi never felt the need to put a name on what you were to him, what you were to each other. But ever since finding you backstage with Jungkook, it started to nag at him. Was this how it felt to be threatened by someone else? 
"I'm just gonna put Holly in his pen for the night, if you want to go wait for me in the bedroom." Yoongi told you quietly, too scared you might have changed your mind about staying. 
"Sure you don't need help?" you offered, and a little of the weight of the rocks in his stomach lifted. 
"He might get hyper again if he sees you." Yoongi chuckled with a shake of his head, walking around the kitchen to turn a few of the lights that were no longer needed. "They say dogs don't pick favorites but I call bulshit."
"Baby, I don't think anyone says that." 
You had that tiny, shy smile on your face as Yoongi circled the kitchen island, stopping him at the new term of endearment you just used. It made him falter, eyes widening a fraction. 
"I'm usually the one calling you that." Yoongi chuckled, but it sounded more like a wheeze. 
"Oh. Does it bother you?" you nibbled on your bottom lip, but Yoongi used his thumb to set it free. 
"I think I like it." he thought more than that, if he were being honest. 
"I'll be waiting in the bedroom, then." you let him know, raising on your toes to kiss his cheek. 
"Kitten." Yoongi called before you could walk too far, motioning to the device on top of the marble island. "Aren't you taking your phone?"
"I won't need it in there." you shook your head. The only thing you needed tonight was to have Yoongi close to you. "Besides, I assume you don't have an Apple charger?"
"See? If you had a Galaxy, your battery would last for days–" 
"Alright, say goodnight to Holly for me." you interrupted the man before asking if he became a Samsung CEO and forgot to mention. 
At least you could say a bit of the palpable, smothering tension was going away, since you were still able to laugh together. You could tell that leaving your phone behind did something for Yoongi’s mood. You wouldn't dare say he was jealous of Jungkook in any way, not when you knew how he felt about you.
But Yoongi was clearly confused about something, on some minimal level, if anything. Otherwise he wouldn't have mentioned you weren't just a friend, he wouldn't even question it. 
If he didn't realize at this point how much you belonged to him, wordlessly, irrevocably, however unrequitedly, maybe it was about time you showed it. 
As he moved to take Holly to his playpen for the night, you went to Yoongi’s bedroom with an idea in your mind. It was pretty simple, really, no great gestures or a big confession planned. 
But Yoongi was a smart guy and he knew how to read between the lines. If he didn’t understand what you meant, then maybe he wanted to remain clueless;  it would be your own hint that maybe you should let go. 
Your purse was still on the edge of Yoongi’s bed, the chain he wore tonight at the concert was laying next to it. You picked it up and walked to the large mirror on the closet door, unclasping the jewelry before bringing it to your neck. 
You had to fasten it a little tighter against your throat than it was on his, the excess chain resting on your collarbones and reaching all the way between your breasts. You admired how the collar-like chain sat snug against your skin, how the simple fact that you were wearing it, and it belonged to Yoongi, made your breathing grow slow and heavy, dull throbs sparking between your legs. 
You heard Yoongi’s lazy steps as he came down the hall and joined you in the bedroom, closing the door softly behind him. 
"Kitten, about tomorrow," Yoongi started, but his next words died on his throat as you turned around to face him. 
"Yeah?" 
You smiled softly, walking closer to him as you watched his eyes flit from the chain around your neck to your eyes, down to your lips and back to the chain. 
Yoongi was almost a head and a half taller than you, way wider with his broad shoulders and chest that narrowed into a surprisingly slim waist. 
In your work field, you saw handsome men every day, you've worked with actors and the occasional idol in brand deals and campaigns in the past, to the point you weren't affected by a pretty face and it took a lot to make you blush or squirm.
And then there was Yoongi. 
So beautiful in every way, the prettiest pouty lips, cutest nose, most honest eyes and golden heart. His hair was parted in the middle, falling softly and shiny around his face, the tips a little curly from being allowed to dry naturally instead being blow-dry. 
"What's this, hm?" his hand reached for the chain resting between your breasts, the back of his fingers gently grazing your mounds, making you tingle all over. 
“Wanted to know what it would look like on me.” you told him as you took a step closer, fingers reaching for his shoulder to absentmindedly trace the faint scar with your thumb. “What it’d feel like.” 
“Looks pretty.” Yoongi stated, hand moving higher as he held the chain and gave it a tiny tug. You swallowed hard, a tiny gasp of surprise following. “How does it feel?” 
“Good.” you looked into his eyes, hoping yours would convey what you were trying to show him. 
Claim me, I’m yours. I’ve always been yours. 
Yoongi kept a firm hold on the chain to keep you in place and your eyes fluttered closed just shy of missing his lips break into a side smirk. His lips pressed gently against your cheek, dragging over your jaw, finding your ear. Yoongi took the lobe into his mouth, pulling on it with his teeth as his warm breathing made you melt on the spot. 
“Wanna keep it on?” he asked in a whisper and you pondered if he could hear your heartbeat reply. 
“I do…” you sighed heavily, both hands resting on his chest. “Is that okay, baby?” 
“Anything my kitten wants.” Yoongi’s mouth was making its way to yours, your body trembling with the way he said my kitten. “You’ll be good for me, won’t you?” 
You nodded as words seemed to leave you at that very moment Yoongi’s arm circled around your waist to press you against his body. Your arms wrapped around his neck, eyes still very much closed as you felt his breath ghosting your lips. Yoongi was still holding onto the chain with his other hand, even when he held your neck and part of your jaw. 
The warmth of his hand was contrasting to the coldness of the chain, his body was smooth and his lips wet when they found yours. You sighed against his lips, melting and turning into a puddle in his hold as his tongue licked between your lips, asking for the permission you easily granted. 
Your back bowed the more Yoongi pressed into you, tongue swirling around your mouth, playing with yours, deepening the kiss as your heads tilted to opposite sides. The moment he let go of the chain, you sucked in a deep breath, some clarity returning to your hazy brain, but it was minimal with the way both of his hands traveled down your back to squeeze and palm your ass. 
His hands slipped under your shirt, kneading your cheeks, pulling your hips harder against his to let you feel the very prominent bulge that already started to form inside his pants. You sighed and moaned softly the higher his touches moved, fiery trails being left behind by his fingertips until you had to part the kiss to allow Yoongi to pull the fabric off your body. 
The chain fell against your chest with a light clunk, making you wince and Yoongi look at you with a small veil of concern. 
“Did I hurt you?” he asked in that raspy voice of his, making you almost forget what the words meant. 
“No, not at all,” you assured him, hands going back to his shoulders as his rested on your ribs, just shy of your chest. “Just cold.” 
“Let me make it warm, then.” 
Yoongi leaned closer to your neck, blown out pupils were the last thing you saw when your eyes fluttered closed and you offered your throat for him to kiss. His mouth opened and closed against your skin, covering it in wet kisses. His teeth worked as hard as his lips and tongue, no doubt covering you in more marks and love bites. 
The man’s hands cupped your tits, squeezing them as his thumbs rolled your stiff nipples, making you moan a little louder and rub your thighs together. You loved everything Yoongi did, how he touched your body, knew when to push you and when to go slower. You felt drunk, even if the only alcohol you had tonight was the shot of whiskey you shared with the artist before he went on stage, and that was hours ago. 
As his lips made their way back to your jaw and ear, you felt yourself tremble at his breathy words:
“Kiss me.” 
It sounded like a request, not an order; almost a plea. One you would do your very best to obey regardless. Your eyes parted as your hands moved from his shoulders to his neck. You had to look up to his handsome face, beauty too delicate, lips too bitten, eyes too perfect, as your difference in height didn’t allow you just to lean in. 
Your lips parted as you reached out for him, chasing for his mouth, breath getting caught in your throat when–
“What’s wrong, kitten?” Yoongi’s tone was teasing, head cocking sideways as you couldn’t move. The restriction around your neck, as Yoongi gripped on the chain, made it impossible for you to reach his lips. “Don’t you want to kiss me? Shame.” 
“Yoongi–” you whined pitifully, hands slipping into his long, dark hair, trying to bring him closer to you, but to no avail. “I always want to kiss you.” 
“Then why don’t you, hm?” the teasing continued, paired with the licking of his lips to taunt you further. “Don’t you want to be a good little kitten for me?” 
You were growing squirmy, trying to reach those perfect, petal colored lips, suck on his tongue, anything, but the firm grip around your throat didn’t let you move up. And then Yoongi gave it a light, downward tug, making your neck sting and your shoulders drop. Looking up at him, you saw a tiny challenge in his eyes and your brain took a little while to catch up to what he was hinting at. And then your eyes widened in what must have been a comical way, as Yoongi’s chuckle warmed your heart. 
“Fucking cute.” he praised, making you even more shy under his stare. 
“Yoongi.” 
Your hands left his neck to hold his sides, trace his curves, as your lips met his collarbones. You might not be kissing his lips, but you’d peck and nibble wherever you could reach. You seemed to have gotten the right idea as Yoongi hummed in content when you dragged your lips all over his chest. 
When you reached his nipple, flicking it with your tongue, you heard him hiss and pull on the chain again, moving you lower on his body. You knew he was sensitive, but never missed the opportunity to make him squirm. 
Yoongi retaliated by not granting you a lot of time to kiss his tummy, barely allowing you to trace the lines of his stomach with your tongue. Your thighs were burning and your back was bent uncomfortably, so the final tug had you dropping to your knees on the floor. The wood was heated, but hard under your knees, but this was a point of view of Min Yoongi you’d never get tired of. 
From this angle you could see the planes of his chest, the sharpness of his jawline, the strands of long hair framing his face as he looked down at you with lowered eyes. 
“Will you let me feel that pretty mouth around my cock?” he nudged and you replied with a nod, hands reaching for the waistband around his hips. “Nuh-uh. No hands, kitten.” 
“But–” your complaint was cut off by a harsher tug of the chain and your lips parted as arousal pooled between your legs, making your underwear stick to your folds. 
“What was that?” 
“Nothing, sir.” you shook your head, bringing your hands under your thighs to make sure they stayed away. 
“Good girl.” Yoongi praised, free hand tapping your cheek hard enough to make it warm, but not enough to hurt. 
God, you loved it when he treated you like this. Like you weren’t breakable, he knew how far you could go. You went crazy for the way he handled you like you were his good little kitten, ready to please him in any way he saw fit, any manner he was in the mood for. And after watching him on stage tonight, acting like a King and looking like a God, you’d give him anything he wanted. 
Body and soul included. 
You brought your face closer to his lower tummy, kissing just under his belly button, licking at the faint happy trail. Your teeth nipped his skin on accident as you tried to bite the elastic band of his pants, but all it did was make Yoongi groan. You tried a few different approaches when trying to use your mouth to get rid of the sweatpants, whole body wobbling as you fought with it, but it was fruitless. 
Yoongi’s hard cock was pointing up, tenting inside his pants, and the elastic band was too tight, slipping back into place one one side when you managed to lower the other. The man was looking down at you with an amused grin, likely knowing this was exactly what was going to happen from the moment he forbidden you from using your hands. 
“Something wrong?” he started again and it took you a lot of self control not to slip your hand between your legs at his mocking tone. “Do you not want to suck my cock, is that it? But you love drooling all over it–” 
You’ve had enough, huffing impatiently and bringing your mouth to his tip, lips wrapping around it over the light fabric of his pants. He cursed under his breath, hold on your chain making your skin prickle as he pulled out of pure reaction. You were looking at him through your lashes as you made sucking sounds, tongue wetting the material; even if none of this was pleasant for any of you, it still got Yoongi moving. 
“If you’re just gonna act like a brat–” Yoongi complained with no real bite, pulling you away from his cock by the metal around your neck. He let go of the chain to use his hands to shove his pants down his hips and thin legs, kicking them away when they pooled around his ankles. “You better be good to me now, open that fucking mouth.” 
“I’m always good.” you offered him an innocent little smile that didn’t really fool him anymore. 
You scooted closer to him again, mouth open and willing, tongue out as you brought it to his cock. The tip of your tongue gave it a couple licks, mouth closing around him as you sucked more and more of him into your willing, wet cave, not stopping even as you felt him in the back of your throat. Your eyes stung with tears from the sudden stretch of having him slipping down your throat with no prep, but you’d be damned if you didn’t shut him up with your deep-throating skills. 
Yoongi had been the one to train you on it, afterall. 
“Show off.” Yoongi cursed, sounding fucked out and raspy. “Behave, kitten.” 
As you pulled off his cock, letting it slip out of your throat, you held back a cough and took deep breaths to allow air to fill your lungs again. You had a wicked little smile on your spit covered lips, a thick string of it connecting you to his tip. You flicked your tongue over it to make it snap, hearing Yoongi’s raspy moan as his weight shifted from one leg to the other. 
He pushed your hair away from your face to get a better view of you, gently tucking it behind your ears before nudging his cock against your lips with a movement of his hips. You slipped your tongue past your lips to kitten lick at his sensitive tip, swirling it around the leaking head, moving lower as you traced a fat vein down to his very base. 
You mouthed at Yoongi’s cock, feeling small twitches against your lips, broad strokes of your tongue making the man tremble as he towered over you. After giving his smooth tip a wet kiss, you kissed down his length, past his base, stopping at his balls. You were looking up at him as you opened your mouth to take one of them into it, giving it gentle sucks that you knew drove Yoongi absolutely mad. His body was starting to collect a thin layer of sweat, trembling hand pushing his hair back and away from his face for the hundredth time tonight. It was a shame your mouth was too full and you couldn’t tell him how stunning he looked at this very moment. 
“Fuck, that’s it, baby. Shit.” Yoongi groaned as you repeated the same action with the other ball, until you let go of it with a loud pop. “Come on now, let me fuck this pretty mouth.”
“It’s yours, baby.” you admitted, hoping he could read between the lines. “All of it.” 
“Yeah?” the man was breathless as his gorgeous hand wrapped around his cock, stroking it up and down, squeezing to find some relief as he let you breathe. “You’re all mine, aren’t you?” 
If Yoongi knew what he was doing, he was just plain cruel for playing with your feelings like this. But you still nodded, you still opened your mouth for him. 
“Damn right you are.” he growled, holding his base with one hand and your chain with the other, pulling you close to his cock and slipping it into your mouth. He was lucky you relaxed your jaw as fast as you did, just barely missing your teeth. “Never gonna choke on another cock like this. You’ll never like another as much as this one, right kitten?” 
You moaned around him as a reply, jaw already aching as his hips rolled and pulled back and pushed forward, slowly starting to fuck your mouth, just like he promised. Your eyes were rolling to the back of your head as you rested your hands on his tights; not only were they starting to feel numb, being stuck under yourself for so long, you needed to find some balance. 
“My kitten.” he continued, getting lost in your warm mouth, making spit collect and dribble down the corners of your lips. “Mine.” 
You didn’t know Yoongi to behave this possessively, but you were going crazy for it. If you had half a brain right now, you might have connected it to the fact this was pretty much the first time Yoongi ever had competition, the first time he knew about someone else showing interest in you and it was making alarm bells ring around his head. 
As more and more growls escaped from his swollen lips, the faster he fucked your mouth, slipping all the way to the back, pulling off so your cheeks could hollow as you sucked, licked and slurped at a pace you knew would make him unravel fast. And Yoongi knew it, too, taking a step back to take his cock out of your mouth and holding you in place by the chain as you tried chasing him back. 
“Not gonna cum in your mouth, kitten.” he let you know, but didn’t sound so sure of it himself. “Come here.” 
“Selfish–” was all you managed to say, between the ache on your jaw and your slightly sore throat. 
Yoongi laughed cutely, just a raspy sound coming out in staccato. He helped you back onto your feet with strong, bulging arms, holding you close to his body as he looked at your neck. Despite your little whines of complaint, Yoongi unclasped the chain from your throat. 
“You’re all red, baby.” he told you quietly, breaking his Dom streak for the time being. “Did I hurt you?” 
“I’m okay, I promise.” you sighed, smiling as you kissed his cheek. “I can take it harder.” 
“Sure you can, kitten.” his smile mirrored yours, wet and hard cock resting between your bodies. Yoongi kissed your forehead and looked at your neck again, blowing on it to soothe the soreness. “Will you get on the bed for me?” 
“How boring.” you teased with a giggle, making him roll his eyes playfully. You turned around to follow his request, getting a smack on your ass in response, making you squeal as you ran away from him. 
You were still laughing as you kneeled on the mattress, scurrying all the way to the headboard to sit by the pillows. When you turned back around to face Yoongi, you saw his back as he stood in front of the mirror. You couldn’t help but gawk at his broad shoulders, thick arms, the dip on his spine. His skin was flushed pink, the 7 tattooed on the back of his shoulder was small, but still a beautiful contrast to his complexion. 
Your gaze was shamelessly stuck on his surprisingly round and plump ass when he turned around, saying: 
“My eyes are up here, kitten.” 
“I know, but your ass–” you giggled, but it went away as soon as it bubbled. 
The chain was around Yoongi’s neck again, circling his throat, the end of it still long enough to rest between his pecs. The way he was biting on his bottom lip told you he was a little nervous, which wasn’t something you ever saw Yoongi being in bed. He didn’t say anything else before climbing on his mattress to meet you, the chain swinging back and forth as he came closer. 
Mine, you spoke in your head, wishing for it to be true. Let me claim you, too. 
“Lay down for me, kitten.” Yoongi asked, holding your hips to pull your body down and help you lay on his bed. “Want you like this tonight. Want to see you. Okay?” 
“Anything you want.” you nodded, heart betraying you as you wanted to shy away from the intensity of his stare. “Always. Anything.” 
You sat up on your elbows and took the dangling part of the chain in your hand, gently pulling him closer, hearing his own gasp as you finally met his mouth again. Your legs parted for Yoongi’s hips to fit in between them, heavy and leaking cock hitting the inside of your thigh as he got comfortable in your hold. 
The kisses exchanged were sloppy, deep, mind numbing. You were barely tugging on the chain, just holding Yoongi close as his body leaned on top of yours and your head met his pillow. He took your bottom lip into his mouth, sucking on it gently and letting it drag back into place between his teeth. 
One of his arms sneaked between your bodies to part your legs a little wider, taking his cock in his hand and giving a few lazy pumps as he brought it to your pussy, rubbing it up and down to coat it in your slick. 
“Want to feel all of you, kitten.” he groaned from the feeling and the thought, looking at you as he continued: “Can we do it like this? Please.” 
You were sighing in bliss as you reached to push his hair out of his face, gently running your nails through his scalp and smiling when it made him close his eyes. You didn’t always skip a condom, even if you were on birth control every single time you had any encounters like this one. But you knew you weren’t Yoongi’s only partner in the past, and he respected you enough to never ask this of you when he’d been with someone else in a short period of time. 
Despite promising you that he always wore protection with any of them, which you wholeheartedly believed. And maybe you liked to hurt yourself as you asked:
“How long has it been?” you asked, watching him frown in confusion, obviously getting lost in his own pleasure. “How long has it been since you’ve been with someone else?” 
“Too long.” he shook his head assuringly, leaning down to kiss your cheek. “I wouldn’t ask–” 
“What about Thailand?” you asked him quietly, swallowing the lump in your throat. 
“What about Thailand?” he repeated, letting go of his cock in order to cage you in with his arms as this was obviously something you needed to talk about. 
“Nevermind, it doesn’t matter.” you shook your head, but Yoongi sighed. 
“You always do this. You always pretend things aren’t bothering you when I know they are.” he told you, but his words were gentle and un-accusing. His lips kept pressing against your face, placing small kisses as he said: “Tell me, baby. Tell me so I can ease your mind.”
“It’s just something I heard tonight.” you admitted, as there would be no arguing with him. Your arms circled his neck as you ran your nails behind his shoulders. “One of your crew members was talking about how you brought a girl back to the hotel after the Bangkok concert.”
“What–” Yoongi groaned, as if it was the first time he heard about it. 
“Said she liked the new girl better than me.” you were aware of how small you sounded, realizing you were more upset about this than you previously thought. “Less needy, quieter, doesn’t demand things. All I did was ask her for directions to the bathroom once–”
“Who said those things?” he demanded to know, raising his body on his elbows to properly look at you. 
“Does it matter?” 
“Yes, because if someone on my team has been spilling lies about me behind my back, I’m going to do something about it.” he stated, but it was his next words that sent a thrill through your veins. “No one talks about you like that and gets away with it.”
You could tell Yoongi was getting worked up about this and if the girl really was just talking out of her ass, most likely because she knew you were listening and would be hurt by those words, then Yoongi wouldn’t let it go so easily. But you didn’t want to spend the rest of the night talking about it, or dealing with a stressed Yoongi. 
He had a perfect concert tonight, he deserved to relax. 
In an attempt to soothe him, you cradled his face, running your thumb against his cheekbone, giving his lips small kisses. 
“I didn’t mean to stress you out about this right now.” you told him between pecks. 
“Have you been thinking about this all night?” his eyes were closed, but the lines between his brows were evident. “Thinking I was with someone else like this?”
“Not all night… Only when you weren’t around.” 
“I promise you there were no other girls. For ages now.” his eyes opened to make sure you were listening. There was no way he didn’t hear your hear beating like crazy when he said: “There’s only been you.”
“Did you miss the memo?” you teased, explaining when he frowned: “You’re a rock star on the road, you were supposed to have a different partner every night.” 
“I could have, but no one would ever compare to you.” the movement of Yoongi’s hips, pressing his hard length up and down your folds, was followed by his groan and your moan. “Why waste my time when I got you?”
“Yoongi…” you mewled, squirming underneath him as his cock hit your clit over and over and over again. “If you keep saying shit like that, I’m gonna fall for you.”
“Took you long enough.” Yoongi cried out in pleasure as he kept rolling your hips against yours, hiding his face where your neck and shoulder met, but you could still feel his smile. 
“What–”
“We can talk about this later, but you feel too good right now.” he mumbled a complaint and as much as you wanted to make him say what the fuck he meant just then, you could agree. “I don’t mean to break the moment but–”
“No, yeah, I… Fuck, please.” you spread your legs wider, angling your hips to invite him. “I need you, yeah?”
“Like this?” Yoongi’s body lifted a little so you could both look between your bodies, where his cock was leaking and making an even bigger mess of you. “If you’re not okay with it, I can go get–”
“You’re not going anywhere.” you told him so when grabbing the chain around his neck to pull him back. 
Yoongi barely toppled on top of you again, arms around you as you attacked his lips, needy for a kiss. You took it upon yourself to bring your hand between your bodies, finding his cock so you could stroke him, gently squeeze around his head, tug him a few more times before lining him up with your entrance. 
With a tiny squeeze around his base, you let him know it was okay to move, breathing in a sharp gasp as he moved his hips to press them forward and slip his tip inside your wet, clenching hole. You let go of him, bringing both hands to hold his neck. Keeping up with the kisses was heard, the two of you becoming a mess of tongues and lips the more he pushed forward. 
You were whimpering the more he pushed his cock into you, walls stretching to accommodate him. With one last swift movement, Yoongi bottomed out, kissing your cervix with how long he was, fucking you so deep you forgot how to–
“Breathe, kitten.” he mumbled against your lips, kissing down your throat and collarbones. “It’s gonna feel good soon. Just breathe for me.” 
You did as he asked, breathing hard through your nose and letting it go from your mouth. It was easy to forget all about the pain as Yoongi kissed his way down your body, as much as his position would allow him, looking at you thought dark lashes as his mouth reached your tits. He kissed all over the soft mounds, leaving a trail of heat until his pout found your nipple. 
His tongue rolled around the bud, making it shiny and wet just before taking it into his mouth to give it long sucks that made your back arch. The new movement cause his cock to stir and nudge that sweet spot within your walls and the moan he pulled out of you was sweet as honey. 
"Baby, please." one of your hands slipped deeper into his messy hair, the other was holding onto the chain around his neck. 
"Yes, kitten?" Yoongi grinned as he let go of your nipple just to make his way to the opposite one and repeat the same suction movements and teasing with his tongue. 
"Fuck me." you whispered, trying to move your hips underneath him. 
"What was that?" he asked with an arched brow after pinching your nipple between his teeth. "Couldn't hear you properly." 
Yoongi was a little menace when he wanted to be, making you squirm as you tensed your pelvic muscles, clenching around him, repeating yourself: 
"Fuck me, Yoongi." you begged. "Fuck me good so that you're the only man in my mind. Make me cum so hard we'll have to change the sheets before falling asleep, then wake me up so you can fuck me again, over and over, until your neighbors know whose name I'm screaming–" 
"Fucking hell–" 
A full body shiver raked through Yoongi, a deep breath slipping past his lips as he raised himself on his arms. You missed his warmth instantly, but the view of him on top of you, long chain dangling from around his neck, flushed body, hips snug against your middle, was all worth it. 
Especially when his hips pulled back and you both watched as his cock came out of you coated in your arousal. You could feel every bump, ridge and vein, just like he could feel your walls fluttering around him. Despite being careful when pulling out, Yoongi shoved his cock right back in, both of your moans being almost completely drowned out by the squelching of your pussy. 
“Fuck–!” you cried as your body rocked as Yoongi kept that pace going, brutal and skilled. 
“Look at you bouncing on this big cock, hm?” the man had the audacity to tease you, thrusting time and time again to make you squirm and bounce the harder he fucked you. “So fucking tight, too. My pretty little kitten, stuffed full of cock, sounding like a slut.” 
“You greet your fans with that mouth?” was all the comeback you managed to spill, a hand on his chest and the other holding onto his chain for dear life. You could already see red lines around his neck, but he wasn’t complaining. 
“Yeah,” he gloated, obviously happy with himself. “But you’re the only one who gets to know what else I can do with it.” 
You had to laugh, slightly delirious as you thought about his mouth and just how many times he made you cum in record time using only his lips and that sinful mouth. But then again–
“Actually –fucking hell–,” you sighed, the top of your head just shy from banging on his headboard as Yoongi upped his pace. “Pretty sure you were rapping about your tongue skills tonight as well–” 
“Okay,” he continued, obviously amused about how chatty you were being. “How about you being the only one who gets to experience it, hm?” 
"I'm okay with that." you agreed with a quick nod of your head, clenching and twitching underneath him. "Fuck, baby, you're always fucking me so good– Filling me up all the way. I can't–" 
"Yes you can, take it like a good girl." 
Yoongi must be nearing his end as his thrusts became sloppy and a little less consistent but just as good. You could feel him all the way in your guts, stretching you wide, making you want to scream his name. You only realized you were pulling on the chain again when his elbows bent and his nose was nudging yours. You kept him glued to you, swallowing his every moan, feeding him your own.
Your pussy was clenching like crazy, neither of you finding time to properly breathe as you hooked a leg around his waist. Yoongi pushed deeper and rolled his hips over and over again, hitting all of the good spots, hipbone abusing your swollen clit. 
"Gonna cum, Yoongi, oh my god!" you squealed as you writhed underneath him, steel grip on his chain as your nails from the other hand sunk in on his back. 
"Cum for me, kitten, make a mess for me," he growled like a starved beast, hips pistoning into you with the little bit of stamina he still got. "Good girl, just like that–" 
Your legs gave out as you started to tremble, lower stomach tensing until the band broke and your orgasm hit you hard. Your vision went blurry and your ears buzzed as you creamed around Yoongi’s cock, wave after wave rolling off of you as you went just a little more insane. 
Yoongi’s own orgasm was tipped right after yours, a delicious warmth spreading inside you as his thick cum filled you up so much you knew you’d make an even bigger mess. His chest pressed you into the bed, both of you clinging to each other for dear life. 
Your breaths were heavy, bodies sweaty, sheets as ruined as the two of you were. There were tears in your eyes from the mess of emotions you were suddenly hit with, knowing now that the sex was over, Yoongi didn't need to enchant you with sweet words and empty promises. 
"Did I hurt you, baby?" he asked you with worry, noting your red rimmed eyes, kissing the couple pesky tears away. "I'm sorry if I was too rough…"
"You were perfect. You're always perfect." you assured him, pulling him in for another hug, hiding in his chest. "Just fucking me stupid, that's all." 
That seemed to distract him and you felt his body shaking as he laughed. Yoongi didn't let go of you for a very long time, what felt like ages, really. Until you could both breathe again and the haze swirling around your brain dissipated. 
The idol only let go of you when he could feel his cum start to leak out of you, rushing to the bathroom to clean his softening cock. He got back to you with clean cotton shorts and a damp cloth, insisting on being the one to clean up the mess between your legs. 
You were a little wobbly when you used the bathroom after him, needing to pee, avoiding looking at yourself in the mirror as you washed your hands and your face. You looked absolutely wrecked, in the best way possible. 
Your neck was a little purple in spots, both from Yoongi’s kisses and the damned chain. Your hair was a mess that wouldn't be fixed without conditioner or brushing lotion. Your hips had finger marks all over–
"Baby, are you okay in there?" Yoongi asked, already opening the door and making you yelp. 
"Hey! I could be on the toilet!" 
"What if you were?" he scoffed, as if it was no big deal. "I've seen you do worse." 
"Debatable!" you complained in a high pitch. "I can't have one moment to myself?" 
"Nop." Yoongi grinned happily, showing you his gums. He walked to you next to the sink, bringing a clean shirt to put over your head, going as far as pulling your arms through the holes. "You were taking too long and I was missing you." 
If your own blush wasn’t the first to betray you, you could have teased him for his post-sex neediness. 
Yoongi wasn’t looking much better than you, now that the chain had been taken off, his own neck was red and bruised, likely to give his makeup noonas a hard time covering them enough for his concert tomorrow night. There were scratches all over his shoulders and back, hair just as messy as it was at the end of the show. 
He pulled you into his body for one last hug before holding your hand and pulling you out of the bathroom. Yoongi led you out of his room right after, going further down the hall as he dragged you into the guest bedroom, where he had already pulled out the covers of the bed, likely too tired to change his sheets tonight. 
You found a water bottle waiting for you at the side of the bed, happy with the fact he remembered how thirsty you got after sex, chugging it down in almost one chug. Only when you trusted your voice not to waver and you were both lying in bed, with Yoongi pulling you into his arms, you said:
“What about tomorrow?”
“Huh?” he blinked like a confused cat.
“You were going to tell me about the secret plans that involve me and not morning sex.” you reminded him of the subject that was pushed aside when he saw you wearing his chain earlier. 
“I never said no to morning sex.” he pointed out as you laid with your cheek on his chest. His hand was drawing patterns on your arm. 
“Okay, so after the morning sex–”
“Uh. Yeah, there's this new coffee shop that just opened up, and they do american style breakfast.” he started, just a little hesitant. 
“Oh, I love American breakfast!” you chirped, tracing the few lines on his stomach with your fingertips.
His chuckle was cute and endeared. “I know, that's the only reason I said yes to getting out of bed that early when we were in Chicago.” 
“I never woke you up before 11am.” you squinted up at him with a shake of your head. 
“Like I said, early.”
“Okay, well. What about this new place?” you insisted, curiosity getting the best of you. 
“I wanna take you there tomorrow. Check out the place.” he shrugged, but you sat up. 
“Oh, Yoongi…”
“You can say no, if it's weird.” he was nibbling on his bottom lip as he watched you. 
“No, it's not weird, just... it sounds like a hype place, and, well, won’t people see us?” you were worried, despite going out for breakfast with Yoongi sounding like a perfect morning plan. 
Besides the morning sex. 
“Does it bother you?” he frowned, adding: “Being seen with me?”
“Why would it bother me?” you chuckled under your breath, it felt like you were talking about different topics. “I know you like to keep your reputation, so I don't mind–”
“My what?” Yoongi sat up a little higher against the headboard.
“You know… Not being seen with a girl?” you held back the rolling of your eyes. “Isn't that why I can't watch your concerts from the seats?”
“No??” he looked bewildered, as if you were insane.  
“What??” you were the one confused now, a slightly amused laugh sounding incredulous. “You asked me to stay backstage after that Dispatch tweet linked us together…”
“Yeah, because I didn't want it to put you at risk, not because I mind that people saw me with you!” he reached out to smooth your hair, but you doubted that it did anything. 
“Oh.” 
“Is that what you've been thinking all this time?” his head tilted comically and you felt your cheeks burn. 
“Well, yeah?!” 
“Why wouldn't I want to be seen with you, baby?” Yoongi pressed and you opened and closed your lips a few times before deciding on what to say. 
“Because I'm just…” 
“You’re not just a friend.” he stopped you, finally making up his mind. Completely tilting your world upside down as he continued: “And I'm tired of pretending that you are.” 
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casuallyimagining · 5 months
Text
Set Me Free || myg
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min yoongi x female reader
Summary: Tired of being told how to live his life and unsure of where he stands in the world, Yoongi--your soulmate--yearns to be free. When you give him what he wants, it causes a rift in your relationship that seems irreparable. 12 years later, you find him back in your life. Can you mend your relationship? Do you even want to? Word Count: 14,377 Genre: friends to enemies to lovers, supernatural au, witch & familiar au, soulmate au, angst, fluff Warnings: death of a parent (brief mention), alcohol, soulmate breakup, smooching
Notes: banner by @itaeewon. thank you to @daechwitatamic and @oddinary4bts for beta-ing and listening to me struggle my way through this. as always. and extra thanks to ella for helping me write Yoongi's letters and to my friend tanya for giving me a super helpful base for the ending.
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It’s cold. The late autumn wind rustles through amber-brown-orange-yellow leaves, swirling the fallen ones into little tornadoes that scuttle across the pavement. The cold doesn’t bother Yoongi, necessarily. It’s been a while since he’s been here, in this town, on this street, but even after so much time, his body remembers the chill of November in the same way his feet remember the way to his destination. He shoves his hands deep into his pockets and pauses at the street corner.
It’s strange being back here. He’d once known this neighborhood so intimately, he could map it in his sleep. Not much has changed in the almost 13 years he’s been gone. The park on the corner is the same. The playground, massive to an eight-year-old with a near-infinite imagination, stands resolute, its plastic and paint sun-faded and weathered. Further up the block is the head of the trail that snakes its way through the forest, where he’d spent countless hours playing pirates as a kid and exploring as a teen. And there, at the end of the street, is his destination.
The closer he gets, the more his stomach roils with nerves. Thirteen years since he’d walked down this sidewalk. Thirteen years since he’d walked onto that front porch. Or rather, 12 years, 5 months, and 11 days. 
But who’s counting?
There’s a light on in the front room of the house, he can see it through the big window despite the shades being pulled closed. He hesitates. He’s spent days–no, weeks–playing out in his head how this was going to go. In a moment, he’ll know if any of those scenarios were correct. And frankly, right now, he’s terrified. 
What if you start to cry? What if you slam the door in his face? What if you hug him? What if you yell at him? What if you don’t answer? What if you want to talk? What if you never want to see him again? What if you invite him in? What if you have someone over?
He takes a deep breath and knocks.
It takes a second. He can hear shuffling around on the other side of the door, so he knows his knock was heard. But the longer it takes, the sweatier his hands get, and the more he considers turning and running away. The door opens before he can make a move.
You stand in the doorway, bathed in the warm light of the living room lamp behind you. And shit, Yoongi doesn’t know what to say. In many ways, you haven’t changed since the last time he saw you, but at the same time, you look so different. He can see in your eyes the moment the realization hits, and your expression changes drastically. You looked tired–and Yoongi can sense that it goes deeper than just physical exhaustion–and you were slouching, but now, you’re standing ramrod straight, and there’s a hard look in your eyes. One he knows all too well.
“Hey.” He raises a hand, offers a wave that, in hindsight, is rather pathetic. You stare at him, unblinking, and slowly, he lowers his hand. “I uh… I heard about your parents,” he says softly, scuffing his shoe against the wood of the porch. “I’m sorry you have to go through it.”
“Brave of you to show up.” You sound almost bored, but Yoongi knows–he senses, in that kind of primal, gut feeling he gets when it comes to you–that it’s an act. “You know I could turn you into a bug and squash you if I wanted to.”
“I know.”
There’s a tense moment where you stare at each other, the scowl you wear pulling your lips downward and creasing your brow. But then you heave an exhausted sigh.
“Why are you here, Yoongi?”
“I…” 
I want to apologize. 
I’m so sorry.
I miss you.
It all catches in his throat. He coughs in a meager attempt to entice something–anything–to come out of his mouth. “I wanted you to have this.”
He holds out his hands, and in an instant, he’s holding a box. It’s full but not heavy, and he thrusts it out in front of him in your direction.
“A 10-year-old shoebox?” You do nothing to mask your surprise. 
“Letters,” he corrects. “You don’t have to read them but… I wanted you to have them.” He pushes the box into your arms, leaving you no choice but to take it. Then, he steps away and nods his head. “Thank you for not turning me into a bug. I am sorry about your parents. I… guess I’ll go.”
Without another word, he trots down the porch steps. And then, in a blink, he’s gone. Disappeared into the night.
You sigh and shut the door, the box he’d given you cradled in the crook of your arm. You don’t have the energy for this right now. Honestly, you aren’t sure that you’ll ever have the energy for it, but certainly not the day before your parents’ funeral.
Whoever had decided that witches and their familiars die together clearly never thought of the ones left behind.
You collapse onto the couch, placing the box beside you. This would be easier if you weren’t alone. It would be easier with Yoongi, your brain supplies less than helpfully. You curse yourself. You curse him. After all these years, you thought you were over it, over the abandonment, over the betrayal. But all it takes is for him to show his stupid face, and you can feel it all bubbling up anew. Angrily, you push the box off the couch. It explodes when it hits the floor, what seems like thousands of pieces of paper tumble out and scatter from the force.
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The forest was almost silent as you stalked the trail. Not even the birds were happy that day. Twigs snapped under your feet. You weren’t even paying attention to where you were going, your feet carrying you along the path that you’d hiked countless times before. You needed to get away, to escape, to calm down. But you couldn’t, because what you were running away from was hot on your heels.
“Would you slow down?” You could hear the frustration in Yoongi’s voice as he followed you. You ignored him. “Goddamnit,” he breathed, picking up his pace. “Will you at least listen to me?”
Quite frankly, you didn’t care what he had to say in that moment.
“It wouldn’t be a permanent thing,” he continued. “I just… I don’t know. I need to do this.”
You stopped, sliding a little on the damp new growth below your feet. “What the fuck are you talking about? You’re not being oppressed, Yoongi. No one’s stopping you from going out and exploring the world.”
“Maybe this way of life isn’t for everyone. Maybe not everyone wants their whole existence to be predetermined at birth. Maybe not everyone wants the universe to choose who they’re supposed to be with and how they’re supposed to live.”
His words stung, and until then, you weren’t quite sure why. Rejection. Not just of how you lived, and who he was, and how things had always been. But of you. Yoongi was your familiar, you were destined to be together in some way since you were six years old and the bond gem first appeared. Not all witches and familiars were in romantic relationships–your parents were, sure, and Yoongi’s parents–but plenty of them had other partners, lives separate from each other. Platonic soulmates navigating the world together.
Until a few months before, you’d been content with that. There was no doubt you’d been best friends from the jump. You’d been practically inseparable through school. Then, months before, he’d kissed you at the winter market. Right there in the park, under the aurora. Before that, you hadn’t thought of him as any more than your best friend. But the kiss had unlocked something inside you. And now…
Now he wanted you gone. 
“You want to be free that badly?” By some miracle, your voice sounded positively venomous, even though you felt like you could crumble at any moment. “Fine.”
“Wh-”
There’s a saying your mother told you once, back when you were a child. You and Yoongi had found a turtle in the woods, stuck in the mud. His little turtle leg had been hurt, and you’d rushed it to your mother immediately. Familiars were excellent with animals, and she was no exception, healing the turtle in days when it should have taken weeks. You and Yoongi had both cried when you had to release it back into the wild–you’d both so wanted it to be your friend. ‘If you love something, set it free,’ your mother had said, ‘Sometimes it’s the kindest option.’
Kinder for whom?
The chain around your wrist snapped easily when you wrapped your fingers around it. The incantation meant to keep the bond gem safe became meaningless as soon as you wanted it gone. You couldn’t remember the last time you’d been without it around your wrist. You loved it, with its gem of swirling, inky black and navy blue. It reminded you so much of Yoongi, deep and calm and unwavering. 
Without a word, you tossed the bracelet to the ground. Yoongi’s eyes widened as it hit and the gem cracked. For good measure, you stepped on it, crushed it into dust. There was a pitiful swirl of blue magic that puffed up from the dirt. When you moved your foot, there was nothing left of the bond gem or its chain.
“What the fuck?” Yoongi’s eyes were glassy when you finally looked at him. He looked almost as crushed as you felt. “What the fuck?”
“You’re free.” And this time, you couldn’t hide your sadness behind your anger. 
He didn’t follow you as you walked away, and honestly, it was for the best. It was faint, but you could still feel his emotions, and you weren’t sure you could handle that kind of heartache in person.
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There is paper everywhere. Hundreds of pieces, folded neatly in thirds. You have no idea how Yoongi had fit them all into the shoebox. He must’ve enchanted it. Groaning, you start to pick them up. 
Letters, he’d said. You flip through some as you gather them up. Now that they’re on the floor, they aren’t in any particular order, but it quickly becomes clear that these letters span years. There are some from 12 years ago, written shortly after he’d left. Some are more recent. You stare at one, from December of the year he left. Glancing through it, you expect it to unearth your anger, your rage. But it doesn’t. Just like seeing him again, all Yoongi’s letter brings is sadness. Grief.
You’d spent the past 12 years grieving. Sure, he hadn’t died, but when he left, you’d lost the closest relationship you would ever have. In 17 years, you’d grown so accustomed to having him there, that when he was gone, there was a Yoongi-sized hole left in your life that you had to learn to fill. And you did your best, sewing yourself back together and moving on. But it wasn’t the same.
Glancing through his letter, it seems you weren’t the only one struggling. You aren’t sure if that’s a comfort or not.
It’s been almost a year since the night market–one year since everything started crumbling around us. I still remember it like it was yesterday. It felt right in the moment, didn’t it? I really thought you would understand.
I’ve tried to figure out where things went wrong. But shit, I can’t wrap my head around it. Why did you react like that when I told you I just wanted to be free?
At the end of the day, I guess we didn’t understand each other as much as I thought we did. As much as this bond brings us together, I guess it doesn’t reveal everything. But… that night I just wanted to kiss you, and so I did. Maybe it was selfish. Sometimes I wish the bond didn’t exist, that we could just be free to choose things for ourselves. That we weren't forced into what the universe wants from us… Maybe that’s selfish, too.
Why couldn’t you understand? I just wish I could turn back time and make you understand. Maybe then you wouldn’t hate me, and maybe then I’d stop hating myself too.
Because watching you destroy the gem nearly killed me, but it wasn’t half as bad as watching you walk away. Should I have run after you? 
Would you still be there if I had?
You sigh and lean back against your couch. That damn night market. You hadn’t been back to it since the year he’d kissed you. It’s silly, but a part of you blames it for everything that happened. Because Yoongi’s letter is right. It had marked the beginning of everything going wrong. It wouldn’t change anything, but there’s a part of you that won’t listen to logic, that refuses to believe that maybe, if he hadn’t kissed you–if you hadn’t kissed him back–he wouldn’t have left. 
The night market was beautiful. It always was, but that year was particularly beautiful. The park had been decorated in all of its sparkling, winter glory. Candles twinkled in the trees, suspended by sheer force of will. Through some magic you weren’t familiar with, they’d enchanted the sky, and an aurora shimmered far above, slowly swirling in greens and blues and purples. Snow fell gently, and you weren’t sure if it was natural, or if it was also magic. 
You browsed the various tents and tables, going from one to the other to see the different things people were selling. Some had crafts, others baked goods, and some were even selling things like potion ingredients and spellbooks. There were a few tables dedicated to familiars–books on shifting and specialty items and insets and jewelry for bond gems.
Yoongi followed you closely, clutching a hot chocolate. You knew he wasn’t cold, the temperature was nowhere near low enough for either of you to be uncomfortable, but the way his fingers tapped against the paper cup, you knew something was up. You could sense his anxiety, could feel it in the pit of your own stomach.
“Want to go sit?” you asked softly, gesturing over to the picnic tables they’d set up under one of the sparkling trees. 
His eyes widened. “No, that’s okay. You’re looking.”
“I’m done. Let’s go sit.”
“I-” He deflated a little and didn’t argue further, allowing you to lead him over to one of the tables. 
You sat side by side on the bench, backs against the table, and watched the snow fall around you. The night was peaceful, quiet for the most part except for the occasional laughter that bubbled up. Most of the older crowd had left, leaving only the teens and young adults to explore the market. You watched the other festival goers in silence, Yoongi’s arm pressed against your own.
“You okay?” you asked softly, bumping your shoulder into his own.
Yoongi being quiet was nothing new. He was an observer, a listener, he took in information like a sponge. Which wasn’t to say that he was never loud and boisterous, that he didn’t talk incessantly to the people he cared about. But he was absolutely the calmest presence you’d ever been around, even compared to the adults in your life.
But you could sense what he was feeling, could feel his nerves and unease and conflict. And you knew that he’d rather explode than burden anyone with his feelings. So you prodded. Ever so gently. Because he was your best friend, and when he was suffering, you were too. 
He stayed quiet, and when you turned to look at him, he was much closer than you were expecting. A moment passed. You shared a look. You’d always thought that Yoongi’s eyes were pretty, but in the twinkling light of the candles above, they were deep pools of warm, dark cedar and flecks of honey. Slowly, subtly, he leaned in–or maybe you did, you weren’t sure– as though some mysterious force was drawing you together. An emotion flashed in his eyes, but you couldn’t quite take the time to consider what it may have been because he was kissing you. Lips chapped from the bitter wind moulded against your own for the shortest of moments. It was tentative and delicate and brief, but as he pulled away, your mind reeled. 
That day had affected you in ways you never would have expected. Before, you’d never considered Yoongi as anything more than your best friend, the platonic other half of yourself. And then the kiss, and suddenly, it was like you’d been awakened. For as long as you could remember, your thoughts had been filled with Yoongi. Of the things he liked, the things he didn’t, of spending time with him, of the academy (with him). Suddenly, you were suspecting that maybe there was more to that, more than just the bond of a witch and their familiar.
You sigh. The letters are all finally back in the box, though nowhere near as nicely as they’d been before you’d kicked it and it had exploded. You should get up. You should go to bed. You have to be up fairly early for the funeral. But you stay seated, the box of letters in your lap.
Seeing him again was hard. You’re willing to admit that. You’d spent 12 years convincing yourself that you were fine, harboring anger and resentment and frustration, all for it to melt away the second you saw him. The bond makes it tough to stay mad at him, but it doesn’t let you forget the betrayal.
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You stand out of the way, looking out over the funeral attendees in the park. Your parents didn’t have a lot of friends, but there are enough people here that you’d officially call it a crowd. They’re all mingling–you’d bought beer and wine, and if you didn’t know any better, it could maybe be a party and not a wake. You tighten your fist around the bond gem in your hand. For as long as you could remember, your dad had worn it around his neck, tucked under his shirt. The gem is like your mother–bright pink, fiery orange, deep yellow–and when you were a child, you’d loved to look at it, mesmerized by the swirling, glittering colors. 
The gems have always been a gift from a familiar to their witch, given to symbolize the soulmate-like bonds between them. Most witches–especially those who were romantically involved with their familiars–wear them as jewelry. They don’t really do anything, though some people claim it made their magic stronger (you aren’t really sure about that, seeing as most gems appear in childhood).
As a child, you hadn’t been particularly close with your parents. Especially as a teen, you would have much rather hung out with Yoongi than them. But they were kind, and supportive, and for the most part, they left you to do your own thing. They’d been almost as devastated as you when you’d crushed your bond gem.
Days after your fight with Yoongi, the doorbell rang. Your mother had opened the door. You were upstairs. You’d stayed home from school that day–sick, but not in the way the administrators would have accepted. For a few brief moments, you’d ignored whatever visitor was downstairs. But then-
“She’s not here.” Your mother’s voice drifted up to you. She sounded disappointed.
“Please.” It was Yoongi, you’d recognize his baritone from miles away.
Quietly, you’d slipped out of your room and crept down the hall, sitting at the top of the stairs. You could hear your mother sigh, could see her shift her weight from one foot to the other. Your father appeared from the kitchen and joined your mother at the door.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea right now,” he said, shaking his head. He leaned against the doorknob, pulling it a little more shut in the process so it blocked you completely from the door’s sight.
A long moment of silence passed before your mother called, “Yoongi?” You couldn’t hear his response–he must have already gone down the porch steps. Your mother continued, “It can be scary, and you’re both still young. Give it time.”
The door shut quietly, and both of your parents looked to where you were sitting. You could see it in both of their eyes. Sadness, but something else. Something that looked a little close to pity.
A laugh draws your attention, and you smile sadly as you watch your mother’s coworkers laugh at some memory. But then you notice, just behind them, a shadow close to the ground and suddenly, you’re distracted all over again. Because there, half-hidden by a bush, sits a black cat. Cedar and honey eyes watch you intently, its dark fur swirling and shining like a thousand galaxies. Your hand tightens around your parents’ bond gem, the chain pressing sharply into the flesh of your hand.
He doesn’t move, just sits there patiently. Watching. He’s there as people approach you, offering condolences and hugs that you don’t particularly want; he’s there when people start trickling out. And he’s there when you’re the last one left, all alone under the large oak tree in the center of the park. 
It’s quiet as you stand there, staring down at the bond gem in your hands. This is the part you’ve been dreading. Because you don’t want to keep the damn thing–you could if you wanted to, but there’s also tradition to think about. But it’s also weird to give up the one thing that is so emblematic of your parents. You wonder if they’d felt like this when your grandparents had died. 
At least they’d had each other during it.
You can sense him approach, even though his steps are completely silent. And though he comes closer, he keeps his distance. On one hand, you appreciate it. On the other…
“If you’re going to be here, the least you could do is be here,” you say quietly, looking down at the gem in your hand. It sparkles a little in the light.
Thankfully, he doesn’t ask you to explain. He takes a few slow steps forward until he’s standing beside you. It’s weird, having him this close again. You’d been too overwhelmed last night to actually observe, but now, you’re exhausted, yet alert. 
His hair is longer–as a teen, he’d kept it short, but the ends curl and sit just above his shoulders now. He’s filled out and put on some muscle, and though he’s still a little on the lankier side, his shoulders have broadened. He wears cologne now, the scent light, like lavender, citrus, and sage. So much has changed, and yet it’s the same eyes that watch you with a soft curiosity.
You look up to the tree, watch its branches wave in the wind. You used to think that the centenarian boughs touched the sky, and even still, it towers above everything else in the park. The leaves sparkle, their iridescence catching the light to make the tree look like something out of a fairy tale. You sigh and tighten your fist around your parents’ bond gem one more time before opening your hand.
At first, nothing happens, but then the gem glistens and rises out of your grasp. It joins the other leaves close to the top of the tree, becoming just another sparkle in the prism. 
For a while, not even the birds make a noise. You just stand there, looking up at the tree that has stood sentinel over most of your life. The wind rustles the leaves, and they shimmer as they move. You have no idea how many leaves are up there, how many bond gems have been placed over time. Thousands–maybe hundreds of thousands–of witches and their familiars, most forgotten to the annals of time.
It’s strange, knowing that you would never be memorialized by the tree.
“Let me buy you a coffee,” Yoongi whispers from beside you, husky baritone cutting through the silence.
Yoongi isn’t sure why you say yes, but soon enough, you’re walking into the Green Bean just behind him. He’s uncomfortable, people have been watching you since the park, and their stares are starting to burn holes in his back. He says nothing about it until you’re in line at the cafe.
“What are they staring at?” he whispers, leaning close so that only you can hear in the semi-busy cafe. He chooses to ignore how you tense up ever so slightly.
“You’ve been gone for 12 years, what did you expect?”
Right. He supposes he should have expected their animosity. But it’s not just him they’re watching. He doesn’t miss the way people stare at you, watch you warily as you simply exist. His mind races. Was that his fault? Did his absence cause so many unintended consequences?
You order a coffee and choose a table in the far corner of the cafe, away from everyone but still near the window. He sits in the chair across from you, the hard metal shockingly comfortable despite its harsh lines. An awkward silence settles over you both, but Yoongi’s not sure what to say, so he lets it linger. He watches you stare out the window. Which is a little weird, right? But he can’t bring himself to drag his gaze away. It’s like after 12 years of being away, he just wants to look at you.
The barista calls out your orders and Yoongi stands to grab both of them from the counter. He places one oversized ceramic mug down in front of you, and the other, he wraps his hands around. It’s warm, almost hot, and he dares not take a drink yet. You stare down at the foam on top of your drink, one finger hooked around the handle of the cup.
“What happened to them?” he asks softly. When you look up, surprised, he clarifies. “Your parents, I mean. I… didn’t hear how they…”
You sigh, tap your mug. He can sense the deep sadness you struggle with and is just about to tell you to forget he asked when you speak. “I always kind of thought it would be dad who’d go first.” Your voice is barely above a whisper. “He was always so frail when we were kids. But mom got sick last year and…” You shrug. “One of the neighbors found them.”
“I’m so sorry.” You wave him off. “No. Honestly. They were nice.”
“Thanks.”
He nods, and silence settles again. But then something you said pops into his mind, striking him as strange. “You aren’t living here anymore?” Mentally, he slaps himself. Why did it come out like he’s surprised? He supposes that he’s always just kind of pictured you still… here, in town.
“I’m over in Ashland,” you say, generally gesturing west, toward the city. “I work at the library at the university.”
“Yeah?” He raises his eyebrows. “How’s that?”
You shrug. “Mostly good. It’s a job. The library’s usually pretty quiet, so…”
“That’s really cool.”
Ashland is big, much bigger than here in square feet and at least 10 times the people. It’s a real city, with skyscrapers and functioning public transportation and one of the country’s top medical universities. He’s proud of you, he realizes. You’d always planned to leave for the city, too constrained by life in such a small town. For the longest time, he’d planned on going with you. And then, of course, he’d ruined it. It stings a little to know that you’d gone without him like that, that your life had continued as planned, that maybe he hadn’t meant that much in the grand scheme of things.
But then your eyes meet, and he’s confronted by the anxiety and sadness you’re feeling, and he knows he’s just being stupid. Again.
“So, uh…” He feels a wave of nerves wash over him–they aren’t his own. You tap your half-empty mug. “What have you been up to?”
If he’s honest, Yoongi wasn’t expecting you to ask about him. He’s shocked enough that you’d even agreed to be here, let alone that you were interested in his life. “I was traveling,” he starts cautiously, gauging your reaction. You blink slowly, watching his every move. If you can sense his apprehension, you don’t react. “But now I’m up north in Ulmae. I’ve got a pretty good thing going at this restaurant on the North Shore.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah, uh…” He chuckles, a little nervous. “They’ve got me bartending on the weekends and let me do music during the week.”
Your eyes widen a little, and you lean forward. “They let you play?”
“It’s only like an hour a night-”
“No, shut up. That’s amazing!” You grin, big and genuine, but Yoongi can sense a tinge of sadness in it. 
He’s disappointed when you both finish your coffees and you stand up to put your cup in the little tub by the counter. It’s starting to get late, the sun is starting to set and the streetlights have turned on. It was nice, catching up with you, short though it may have been. It’s not lost on him how strange it is, having to catch up with someone that was once practically a part of him. 
Together, you stand outside in the chilly early evening air, looking down the street toward the park. Over the roofs of the shops and houses, Yoongi can just barely see the centinel tree with its sparkling leaves. People walk past–people he recognizes but couldn’t possibly name–some are more subtle about it, but others practically break their necks to stare at the two of you. Suddenly, Yoongi feels exposed outside the cafe, like there are eyes everywhere. He hates this, hates feeling like he’s doing something wrong just for wanting to talk to you more.
You sigh, scuff your shoe against the concrete of the sidewalk, shove your hands deep into the pockets of your dark jeans. “I… probably shouldn’t even ask,” you start warily. “But do you want to come back for a drink?”
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The house is the same, yet somehow also different, like one of those spot the difference puzzles come to life. The layout of the living room is the same, but the couch is a different style and color. There’s a blanket folded the same way under the coffee table, but it’s clearly a different pattern than he remembers. Most of the photos are the same, but there are 12 years’ worth of more of them. 
Apparently, the stash of alcohol your father kept in the built in cabinet beside the television hasn’t changed.
You pull out a bottle of whisky and two glasses, setting them on the coffee table with a gentle ‘clink.” The shoebox he’d given you sits on the floor. The lid is off, the letters contained within are a mess. Have you read them, or did they spill out? There’s no way for him to really know. 
Silently, you hand him a glass and sit on the other side of the couch, grabbing one of the throw pillows to hug in your lap. You sip at the double in your glass stoically, and for a moment, you stare at him. He has to resist the urge to squirm under your gaze. There’s something different about how you’re sitting, something in your aura that he didn’t notice in the cafe. Maybe you’d been saving it for private, but he can sense that you’re reining your emotions in. 
But then finally, after what feels like an eternity, you turn over your hand. Two pieces of paper sit in your palm. “I’m going to need you to explain these.” The two letters float over to him and open themselves in front of him.
The first is dated only a few years after he’d left.
I’ve been struck by a thought. I had tacos earlier, and I just know you would have loved them. Which made me realize that there’s still part of me that thinks about you at every turn. Your friendship was such an integral part of my life, and not having it anymore feels like there’s a piece missing. Last week it was a song on the radio. Before that, a stray cat I saw that I know for certain you would have loved. Everything reminds me of you, everything leads back to you. You’re everywhere and nowhere, and…
I would like to see you again. Someday. 
How have you been doing? Where has your life taken you? I can only hope it’s treated you kindly. It’s what you deserve.
The other is from the day he turned 25.
A quarter of a century, and for some reason I feel incredibly old. With it comes some realizations, things I didn’t understand before. Maybe I was too young, too blinded by my own need to feel free… but it never was about being free from you. I can’t even begin to imagine how hurtful it must have been for you…
I never wanted to make you feel like I was giving up on you, like I didn’t want you. I never wanted to make you feel rejected, because it wasn’t you I was trying to be free from.
I was so scared of having my whole life laid out in front of me. I never took the time to think what my life could be with the bond–I only ever thought about what the bond meant for my life. All of the expectations, what comes with being a familiar, our roles in society and the universe…
I realize now that I could have–should have–communicated it all better. If only so that I wouldn’t have lost you. So that it wouldn’t have led to me making you feel like I was rejecting you. Maybe it wouldn’t have mattered; at the end of the day I was still walking away from you. But at least maybe I could have made it more clear that it was never you that I wanted to be free from.
I’m sorry. I feel like it’s useless to say, but I am so sorry for not realizing any of this before.
Wherever you are, I hope you’ll understand. Take care until I see you again.
I hope I see you again.
Yoongi sighs. The letters–all of them, not just these two–tended to be rambling diatribes, a snapshot of his thoughts as he worked through his feelings about his own life and everything and you. He’d been an idiot when he left–he was 17 and full of himself and terrified of the world but too proud to admit it–and it had taken him far too long to realize a lot of important things.
For a moment, it’s quiet as he thinks of what to say. How should he even begin? But apparently, he’s quiet for too long, because you wave your hand and the letters fold themselves back up and float back down to the shoebox. When you speak, you sound exhausted. “Why are you here, Yoongi?”
“I-”
“Because if the roles were reversed, I don’t know that I’d have the balls to come back. On one hand, I’m impressed. On the other…” You trail off and shrug.
He’s quiet, not sure how to respond. He’s got lots of thoughts, lots of feelings–of course he does–but right now, you’re a wall, and he’s not sure how to read the situation. He’s not sure what you need to hear right now. So he says nothing.
You laugh, but there’s no humor in it, and you look down at the glass in your hand, stare into the dregs of the amber whisky you’ve nearly finished. “I’m running on like two hours’ sleep,” you admit. “But fuck, Yoongi, I… I was so convinced that I’d never see you again. I wasn’t sure I wanted to.” Then, softer. “I’m still not sure.”
“Why?” It’s out of his mouth before he can even think and god, he just wants the Earth to open up and swallow him whole.
It takes a second for you to process his absolute trash heap of an asinine question. But when you do, your face contorts into somewhere between anger, disappointment, and heartbreak. “What do you mean, ‘why’?” You practically spit the question at him. “You… you… Do you know what it’s like to have the most important person in your life tell you that he wants rid of you?”
“I never said-”
“You wanted to be free. From all of it. From me.” You pick at the corner of the pillow in your lap. “And then you just come back out of the blue like nothing happened and drop this damn shoebox at my feet-” from where it sits on the floor, the shoebox explodes, letters flying everywhere, “-and you just… What did you expect, Yoongi? What do you want?”
“I don’t know!” He sounds a little desperate when he says it, and he hates that, hates how pathetic it makes him sound. So he shrugs, takes a deep breath, leans back a little. “I don’t know,” he repeats. “I just… I missed you. And then mom told me about your parents, and…” He runs a hand through his hair, pushing it back off his forehead and out of his eyes. “And then I was on a train.”
You stare at him for a moment, a little gobsmacked. You have no idea how to respond. What do you say to that? Where do you even start? There are a hundred things you could say. You’ve played this scenario out a thousand times in your head over the years–what would you do if he came back?–but somehow, it never played out like this. In your mind, he’d never told you that he missed you.
You’d never considered that he would miss you.
But you should say something, right? It’s weird that you’re sitting there, just staring at him in complete silence. Has your jaw been clenched the whole time? Does he think you’re angry with him? Quickly, you school your face into something a little more neutral and say the first thing that comes to mind.
“How long are you here for?”
Truthfully, you probably should have asked sooner. You’ve been wondering since he showed up on your doorstep last night, but it never seemed like a great time to ask.
He sighs. “‘Till tomorrow.”
You nod, probably longer than it makes sense to, but it takes you a bit to process. Tomorrow. He’s back in your life for two days, and then he’s gone again. That’s not even enough time to catch up, let alone actually talk with him. And that’s… you aren’t sure how to feel. 
Yoongi watches you quietly and takes a sip of his drink. He’s barely touched it. “Maybe…” he says after a moment, leaning forward to put his glass on the coffee table. “Maybe I should go?”
Part of you wants to tell him no, to ask him to stay, to tell you more about his gig working at the bar. Anything to keep him here and talking to you. But there’s a more logical part of you that’s overwhelmed, that needs some time to think. He’s offering to go, which means that he’s either uncomfortable or his train leaves early in the morning. Or both. He stands, thanks you for the drink, and you follow him to the door. He hesitates just outside, opens his mouth as if to say something and closes it almost as quickly.
You say nothing. And for the second time in as many days, you watch him leave without another word.
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The playground was almost empty. Mama said it was supposed to rain, but she’d also said that you would go anyway, for a little bit. You were trying to learn how to swing on your own, and plus Yoongi and his mom were going to be there, and he’d said he’d bring his trucks to play in the sand. 
But he wasn’t there yet, so you were on the swing. Mama pushed you, her hand firm on your back, and you closed your eyes. You were flying, wind in your face as you launched forward into the air. And then, just as suddenly, you were falling, swinging backward.
“Remember what I said,” mama said softly. “Kick your legs.”
You weren’t quite sure what she meant by that. Your legs were little, and when you kicked out, you felt more like you were going to slide out of the swing seat than anything. You heard her laugh a little, but her hand was on your back once again, propelling you forward. 
A few minutes passed in a blur of forwards and backwards. You still didn’t quite understand the whole swinging on your own thing, but mama’s rhythmic pushes kept you going. But then, a small voice at the edge of the playground yelled your name, and you heard excited footsteps in the wood chips. Mama helped you slow to a stop, and you jumped off the swing.
A little boy, his dark hair cut short by his own mom, ran toward you. He was carrying an armful of small cars and larger trucks. He skidded to a stop in front of you, a wide, gummy grin engulfing his face and crinkling the corners of his eyes.
“I brought all my trucks!” he announced, looking down at the toys in his arms. “You can be the green one. Here.” He tried to hand it to you, and another fell in the process.
You picked it up and took the green truck from him. It was bright green–the same shade as the lime popsicles Yoongi’s mom usually bought–and it had big wheels. You followed him to the sandbox and you both plopped down. It didn’t take long to have a whole city constructed. Granted, it was all made from rocks and wood chips and other small things you found around the sandbox. But it was a city and it was beautiful.
Yoongi drove his truck over a bump, making engine noises as he pushed it toward you. As he drove the truck down another sand hill, bumping and bouncing it over sticks and rocks, something fell out of the sleeve of his jacket. It was perfectly round, and it rolled to a stop in front of you. You picked it up and inspected it. It was some kind of rock, hard and shiny, but it was also colorful, and you were pretty sure rocks couldn’t be blue. 
One look at the rock and he frowned, calling for his mom. She came over immediately and crouched down to see what he was so concerned about. Your mama followed her, and she was the one that saw the rock in your hand first.
“Oh,” she said, her hand gently smoothing down your hair. “You two have found your gem.”
“Wha’s that mean?” Yoongi asked, looking up at his mom. 
She smiled and sat in the sand beside him, pulling him into her lap. She held out her arm, twisted her bracelet around so that he could see it. “You know how I have this from your dad? It’s like that.”
“But-”
���Your friendship is special,” she continued, pinching his cheek. Yoongi laughed. “It means you’ve gotta look out for each other now.”
For a moment, he was quiet. But then he nodded, just once. “Okay!” He held out his hand to you, tiny palm face up. “Can I have it?”
“It’s not yours anymore,” his mom said softly, brushing his short hair back. “It’s a gift.”
You looked to your mama and she nodded. “Take care of it,” she told you. “You only get one.”
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Middle school was the worst. Everything was difficult. Social situations, interactions with your parents, school. At the time, it all seemed like it was unfairly hard. Making it worse, of course, was getting sick. As a kid, you were never sick that often. Yoongi was a different story. For whatever reason, familiars were just more susceptible to illness, and when he got sick, he got sick. 
It was the middle of the semester, and Yoongi hadn’t been to school in days. Your teachers hadn’t even asked, they’d just started giving you packets–homework and printouts of their lessons and extra materials–so he wouldn’t fall behind. So you stopped by his house after school. His mom let you in, offering you some of the snacks she was making for Yoongi before you headed up the stairs to his room. 
You knocked gently before entering. The knock was a politeness–you were close enough with him and familiar enough with his room at this point in your life that you could just barge in without warning and you knew he wouldn’t mind. He looked like hell, stuck in his bed buried in blankets. It was clear he’d had a fever at some point, because his hair looked damp and sweaty. 
But he sat up when you walked in, coughing deeply before speaking. “You’re going to get sick, too,” he protested weakly. 
You waved him off. “Everyone’s sick.” You pulled over his desk chair to the side of his bed and started to go through your bag. “Ms. Miller gave me your math homework, but if you understand it, you’ll have to explain it to me because I have no idea what she’s talking about.” He giggled at that, gummy smile soon hidden by his hand as he coughed. “Here’s the novel for Brown’s class. She said she’d talk to you about making up the paper when you’re back.”
It took a surprisingly long time to go through eight classes’ worth of homework and assignments, but you’d put sticky notes at the front of each packet explaining things, too, so the fact that he was half-asleep for most of your explanation didn’t really matter. 
“Will you stay?” he asked when you were done. “Help me with some of this?”
“What happened to not wanting me to get sick?” you teased.
“I mean, you don’t have to. If you want to go home, that’s fine, too. I just-” He coughed, burying his face in his blankets. 
“You staying for dinner, hon?” Yoongi’s mom called from the bottom of the stairs.
“Yes please!” you responded, shuffling through the stack of packets you’d brought for Yoongi. “Wanna take a stab at math?”
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Halfway through the fall of your senior year, Yoongi started to get… weird. Cagey. Like he was trying to hide something and figure out particle physics at the same time. You’d tried asking him about it a few times, only for him to wave you off with a quiet “just thinking about some things.” After that, he’d be back to normal for a few days. But every time, like clockwork, he would fall back into it.
Finally, on the third day of the new year, he pulled you aside. Tucked back into the dormant foliage of the park, away from prying eyes, he stood, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. He was nervous, you could feel it deep inside you, but to be honest, you didn’t really need your bond to tell you what was plain to see. 
“I…” He trailed off, unsure of how to continue. His brows furrowed in thought, and after a moment, he motioned for you to sit. “I need to tell you something.”
“Okay?” You sat on the edge of a big rock, confused.
“I…” he started again, sitting beside you. You could feel a spike of nerves, and he took a breath to steady himself. “I’ve been doing a lot of thinking, and I think… fuck, this is harder than I thought it would be.”
“You can just say it,” you told him. “It’s just me.”
He nodded and mumbled something that sounded a lot like ‘that’s the problem,’ but after a moment, he continued. “I need to be free of all of this.”
“What?”
“Haven’t you ever thought that maybe the universe doesn’t know what it’s talking about? That maybe you’d be happier if you chose things for yourself?” He frowned. “There’s rules for gifts. We’re only good at certain types of magic because of how we were born. We have to celebrate holidays certain ways, we have to do specific things on our birthdays-”
“-and we get told who we’re to bond to.”
He recoiled at your words. “That’s not-”
“But it’s true, right?” Your gaze fell from him to your hands. “It’s just one more thing you don’t get to control.”
Yoongi sighed. “I just… want to be able to choose for myself.”
Suddenly, you were sick to your stomach. This was the last thing you’d expected. You didn’t particularly like all of the traditions, either, but you were 17. What the hell were you going to do about it? But this felt like he was saying he didn’t want you. You hadn’t yet talked about the kiss at the night market a few weeks prior, but you’d never guessed that he’d do such a sudden about-face. 
“Right,” you said softly.
“Just… think about it?” he asked, dark eyes pleading. 
You didn’t like where this was going, didn’t like how it made you feel. But you nodded anyway. Maybe he would change his mind.
Days gave way to weeks and months, and before you knew it, spring had come. Yoongi hadn’t changed his mind. If anything, he’d gotten more insistent. 
“I want to find myself,” he’d told you once. “I need to make sure this is how I want to live my life.”
“I just need to get away,” he’d said one day while you were doing homework together. “Start fresh somewhere new.”
And then, on the way home from school one day, he’d said, “I need to be free of it all.” 
And you’d snapped. Three months of hearing him talk about it, three months of him basically saying that your entire way of life was wrong and that he was chafing to get away. You couldn’t help it.
“Fuck off,” you’d told him, taking the trail behind the houses at a faster pace. Despite being so attuned with nature thanks to his familiar genes, he’d had trouble keeping up with you.
“Would you slow down?” You could hear the frustration in Yoongi’s voice as he followed you. You ignored him. “Goddamnit,” he breathed, picking up his pace. “Will you at least listen to me?”
He’d pushed. And eventually, you’d given in. Because despite everything, you’d loved him, and if he was unhappy, you wanted to fix that. And now…
Now you’re sitting alone at the train station at ass o’clock in the morning. The train station has just barely opened, and already you’re inside, clutching a cup of coffee. There are a few other people here, milling around, waiting for their early trains to god knows where. You can feel them watching you, can feel them trying to make it subtle that they’re staring. At this point, you’re used to it. Word travels fast in small towns, especially when that word is as earth-shattering as a broken bond gem and a falling out between a witch and their familiar. 
You try to ignore them, focus on your coffee and the posters across the waiting area from you. 
Report any unattended or suspicious luggage to National Rail personnel.
Bags larger than this poster must be checked into the train’s luggage car.
Please remain seated until your train is announced and National Rail personnel give authorization to enter the platform.
You scroll through the news on your phone. Read the posters again. Stare out the window at the coffee shop across the street. And wait. A train arrives, and the couple that had been staring at you leaves. You sigh and stand to throw out your now empty cup.
Just as you do, the door to the train station opens. You turn to look, and there stands Yoongi. He’s wearing a black shirt, a bag slung across his body. His hair is pushed back off his face and he’s wearing his glasses. He’s clutching an absolutely massive travel mug and his phone in one hand, the other rolls a small suitcase behind him. He looks sleepy, but the second his dark eyes land on you, he jolts a little, as if electrocuted into being awake and alert.
“Hey,” he says cautiously, approaching you.
“Hey.” You wave slightly–awkwardly.
“What are you doing here?” His voice is soft, still a little gruff from sleep. You get the sense that maybe he hasn’t said much of anything to anyone this morning.
You sigh and gesture for him to follow you to a bench. The next train–his, you presume–isn’t due for another 20 minutes. You have time, but not much.
“I didn’t like how we left things,” you admit. “I… I wasn't sure if you were serious.”
“Serious?” His head falls to the side slightly, confused. But then, it seems, he understands, and he nods. “I did miss you–I do. I spent the entire ride here thinking about how seeing you again was going to go.”
“Were you right?”
He chuckles. “Not exactly.”
You hum and nod, and for the briefest of moments, silence settles over you. The stationmaster types away at his computer, the clacking of the keyboard the only sound in the entire station. But then you force yourself to say something that’s been on your mind since he showed up on your doorstep two days ago.
“It’s been good seeing you again,” you say, and even though you mean it, you can’t bring yourself to look at him. “I… think in a way, after so long, I made you the villain in my head. It’s good to see that you’re… not that.”
“I am sorry,” he whispers. “That was the worst thing I have ever done, and I just…”
“I get it.”
“What?”
“I think I kind of always did, but… it just hurt too much to think that you were including me in everything that you wanted to get away from, and I just-”
“You were the last thing I wanted to get away from.” Maybe it’s the waver in his voice, maybe it’s the way he ducks his head to make sure he makes eye contact, but you believe him. He sits his mug down on the bench beside him and gathers your hands in his. “I was so fucking dumb. I would have taken you with me in a heartbeat, but god I was too stupid and selfish to take ten minutes to think.”
“I thought maybe I’d done something,” you admit quietly. “I thought that maybe after the night market-”
“No! Oh my god, no,” he exclaims, his hands tightening around your own. “You’re my best friend! I lo-”
“Train 49–the Northern Limited–will be arriving on the platform in five minutes,” the stationmaster announces, not even bothering to use the building’s intercom. “I’ll take you over to the platform when you’re ready.”
Yoongi groans.
“Here.” You pull your hands away from him and immediately miss the warmth of him. But you reach into your pocket, unlocking your phone and shoving it into his hands in one motion. “Put your number in.”
For a moment, he stares at you, dumbfounded. But then the stationmaster opens the door to his office, and the noise jolts Yoongi into action. He types quickly and hands you your phone. You don’t even look at it, just lock it and shove it into your pocket. He hands you his phone and you enter your own contact information before giving it back.
You stand at the same time, and for one brief, quiet moment, you worry that maybe he’s just going to leave it at that. But then he rubs the back of his neck and glances toward the stationmaster.
“I’ll text you,” he promises.
You nod, almost mechanically. You weren’t expecting it to hurt this much to see him leave again. As he turns to gather his things, something comes over you.
“I- Can we-” You sigh, take a deep breath. “Can I have a hug?”
He makes a noise somewhere between a hum and a squeak, and it takes almost no time for the pink to start blossoming on his cheeks. He sputters for a second, and you can feel his shock. But then he opens his arms, and you find yourself taking a small step forward.
It’s shockingly easy to fall back into him, to step into his arms. He’s warm, and solid, but still also somehow soft. His cologne lingers on his clothes, all lavender-y and citrus-y and sage-y. Your arms fit around his waist, and for a moment, you let yourself pretend that this is normal, that nothing ever happened and that he isn’t leaving. But you hear the train horn in the distance and you pull away. You kiss his cheek as you part, and his eyes go wide in shock.
“Text me,” you tell him firmly, reaching down to grab his coffee mug and hand it to him.
“I will. I promise.”
And with one last, fleeting look, he steps onto the elevator with the stationmaster to go over to the platform. 
You stand outside the station long after the train departs, feeling very much like you did when he’d left the first time. You should be feeling optimistic–for the first time in a long time, you feel like maybe there’s hope. For you, for your friendship, for… whatever comes next. But it’s hard to feel any sort of positive when he’s on a train back to a city seven hours away, and you have to go home in the exact opposite direction in a few short days.
As you’re walking back to your car in the lot down the street, your phone dings. When you unlock it, you get the sudden feeling that you’re flying, like a horde of butterflies have erupted within you. It’s nerves and it’s excitement and maybe, it’s also a little bit of hope.
Yoongi 💙: thanks again for not turning me into a bug
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“I’ve been thinking,” Yoongi says one late night, his deep, sleep-deprived voice distorted ever so slightly by the distance and the speakers of your phone. You can barely see him–there’s a dim light that just slightly illuminates his face, but the rest of the room is dark.
“Dangerous,” you joke.
“Rude.” He nuzzles down further into his pillow. “I’d like to come visit,” he admits softly.
For a moment, your mind goes blank. There’s a fluttering in your stomach, hundreds of butterflies trying to escape at once. He’d kept his word after the train station, texting and calling you frequently over the past couple weeks. You’d text throughout the week–little messages about bad days and delicious lunches and cute dogs–and then on the weekends, one of you would inevitably end up calling each other. You’d spend hours on the phone, sometimes talking, sometimes just existing in the silence between you. 
The video calls were a recent development. Since they began, you’d watched him cook dinner, he’d played piano while you worked on a spreadsheet for work, and one early morning, he’d called you on his way home after bartending so he wouldn’t fall asleep on the train.
“What do you mean?” You laugh a little. Maybe it was a little obvious what he meant, but you wanted to hear him say it.
He groans a little, stretches one arm up before covering his eyes with it. He peeks out at you through the cook in his elbow, one singular, dark eye sparkling, even in the poor quality of the video. “I miss you,” he mumbles, and you almost don’t catch it, it’s so muffled by his arm and your phone’s speaker.
You hum. The butterflies in your stomach make themselves known again. “I guess you could come.”
“I don’t have to if you don’t want me to.”
“Hey now. It’s against the rules to take something like that back.”
He laughs. “What rules?”
“You know. The rules.” You gesture vaguely before pulling your blanket up a little further on your body. “Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten the rules?” He grunts. “Being away for so long has rotted your brain, I’m afraid.”
“So rude.” His arm is still obscuring his face slightly, but you can see his big, gummy smile as he laughs. “No, but seriously. Are you busy next weekend?”
You frown. You’d been trying to forget about next weekend. “Normally I’d go home for the new year,” you say softly.
“Why don’t,” he begins, stifling a yawn. You’re a little surprised he’s made it this long without seeming tired. It’s almost 3am. “Why don’t I come hang out? We can do new year’s stuff together.”
“You’re sure?”
“Of course.”
“What about work?”
He shifts, the arm that was over his face now supporting his head under his pillow. “I make the schedule. They’ll deal with it.”
“Yoongi.”
He continues on, ignoring you. “I can work the day shift and get a train right after work on Friday, but I wouldn’t get there until late, is that okay?”
You sigh. It would be nice to not spend the holiday alone. And it would be nice to see him again. Sure, you’ve been talking to him in one way or another, but it’s different than having him in person. You finally agree, and he shoots you a smug, sleepy smile.
The week passes at a glacial pace. Work is slow because of the break in classes for the upcoming holiday, and spending time in an empty library is infinitely less entertaining than you’d expect it to be. Most of your coworkers have taken off, so you’re mostly alone with your thoughts. You fill the time with paperwork, completing literature loan requests for the University’s faculty and doing intake for the newly released journals the library has subscriptions for. 
In the small handful of weeks since you’d seen him last, you’d replayed things in your mind. But mostly, you’ve been stuck on how nice it is to have him in your life again. You aren’t fooling yourself. You haven’t forgotten. But there’s a part of you–a large part, if you’re honest with yourself–that hopes that this is a step forward, that you can be close again. Maybe not how you were, but something that resembles a friendship.
After an eternity, it’s Friday. You sit outside of the train station in your car, parked in one of the pick up spots just outside of the main door. The trickle of people into and out of the station has slowed significantly now that it’s dark out–you’ve never seen it this dead. It’s late, the station is getting ready to close, but there’s one last train that has yet to come in. There’s another car parked a few spaces to your left, and you wonder briefly about who they’re waiting to pick up, but it’s fleeting. 
The door to the station opens automatically, and out steps Yoongi. He rolls a suitcase beside him, a messenger bag slung across his body, his other hand shoved deep into his hoodie pocket. He looks around, confused, his gaze going back and forth between your car and the one to your left. You turn on the dome light and wave and he nods.
He gives you a quick greeting as he opens the back door, shoving his bags in the back seat. When he finally climbs into the passenger seat, he sighs deeply, resting his head against the headrest for a moment before turning to you.
“Hey,” he says softly.
“Hey. How was the train?”
He groans. “Long.”
You hum. He’d worked a short, early shift so he could catch the last train from Ulmae to Ashland. He looks and sounds exhausted. But he’s here. He’s not a face on a screen, he’s in your car. You resist the urge to reach out and touch him. It’s strange. You’d been without him for nearly 13 years. It’s only been a few short weeks since you’d seen him last, but you’re giddy, practically bursting with excitement at the fact that, for the next two and a half days, he’s here. With you.
You drive in relative silence, willing the lights to be green more for Yoongi’s sake than your own. The radio plays a soft hip-hop song, and you vaguely recognize it as one of the bands he’d been obsessed with in high school, but you don’t turn it up. You’re fairly certain that he’s fallen asleep, his head lolled slightly to the side so that he’s facing the window.
It’s a damn miracle that there’s an open spot in front of your building, but you gladly take it. There are people in your building who don’t know how to parallel park—who refuse to do it—but you’d taught yourself just for instances like this. For a moment, you think you’re going to have to wake Yoongi up, but just as you cut the engine, he unbuckles his seat belt and stretches.
Your apartment isn’t large, but it’s bigger than most for what you pay for it. You’re on the seventh floor, the top floor of the building, and your bedroom has a lovely view of the building beside you. But if you lean a little to one side and press your face up against the glass, you can see out into the city beyond, and the university campus in the far distance.
He sits his bags down in your living room and plops down on the couch. You’ve already set out some blankets and a couple pillows for him. The clock on your microwave says 11:05.
“You’re probably exhausted,” you say. “I’ll let you get settled.”
Immediately, he picks his head up from the back cushion of the couch. “’m not tired.” Ever defiant. But you can tell he’s lying. You can see it in his eyes how groggy he is. Normally, he’s up much later than this–you know, because sometimes, he calls you–but between working an early shift and the six-hour train ride, you don’t blame him for being a little sleepy.
“I put some towels out in the bathroom,” you tell him, gesturing down the hall. “It’s the door on the left. Let me know if you need anything else.”
“Thanks.”
And with that, you leave him there in your living room. You can hear him unzipping his bag as you retreat into your room.
An hour later, you find that you can’t sleep. Not that you’ve even tried. You aren’t even sure why you’re so wired. But you’re sitting in your bed, legs covered by a sheet, in the dim light of your bedside lamp. You’ve had friends stay over before. But this… you feel like you did as a kid, having your first sleepover. Except back then you were wired on soda and sugary snacks and it was a treat to stay up late. Now, you’re just…
You hear the bathroom door open and shut, and after a moment, Yoongi stands in the doorway to your room.
“You have the softest towels in the world,” he says, hair hanging in damp strands in front of his eyes. He pats and scrunches it dry with one of the fluffy grey towels you’d set out for him. 
“Would you believe I got them on clearance?”
“I’ll just have to stuff one in my bag, then.”
“I charge a 5% fee for any towels that leave the premises.”
At that, he laughs, a groggy, squeaky sound that shakes his shoulders and crinkles his eyes and leaves a wide, gummy smile in its wake.
“So… what’s the plan for tomorrow?”
“I haven’t really thought about it.” He shoots you a look that says he doesn’t believe you, and you relent. “Well,” you pat the bed beside you, inviting him to sit, “There’s this thing every year in the park to watch the meteors,” you say as Yoongi eases himself onto the mattress. “But it doesn’t start until late.” He hums. “Was there something you wanted to do?” 
“No, just-” He stifles a yawn. “Curious.” He leans back against the headboard, settling in.
Just like that, you fall easily into conversation. It’s comfortable, calm. Just two old friends chatting. He likes your apartment, thinks the tile in your bathroom is really nice. He asks about your job, nods along as you tell him about working in the library and your coworkers. 
And slowly, his reactions become slower, delayed, until he finally doesn’t respond at all. You look over, and his chin is tucked against his chest, his breathing gentle. Asleep.
For a moment, you consider going out to the couch. It would be weird, right, to stay here with him? But as you’re about to kick the blanket off, you pause. 
We’re adults. Adults can share a bed. It doesn’t have to mean anything. You’re mature enough to let this just be two people sleeping in the same space. 
At least, you think you are. 
But as you settle in yourself, snuggling down into your blankets and turning off the light, you’re suddenly faced with the quiet peacefulness of his face. He’d always been handsome, and now that you’re both older, you can appreciate just how beautiful he really is. He sighs and slides down a little, his hand brushing against your arm as he gets more comfortable. 
Oh no. 
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You sit on the floor of your living room, a box of pizza on the coffee table that you’ve shoved out of the way. Yoongi’s beside you, your backs against the couch as you watch some anime he’d been trying to convince you to watch back in high school. You’re three episodes in, and you don’t have the heart to tell him that you don’t really care for the basketball-themed show. Part of you is still afraid that if you say something wrong, he’ll be gone again. 
His arm rests casually behind you on the cushions, far enough away that it’s more a comfortable way to sit than any sort of advance, but that doesn’t stop the smallest of butterflies from making itself known in your stomach. This Yoongi is so different from the Yoongi you knew—the one who, as a kid, got excited by construction equipment and the concept of ice cream, and as a teen spent his free time hiding from his parents, playing the piano and hanging out with you (though neither were mutually exclusive). He’s quiet, comfortable in the silence, comfortable with letting things linger. 
You’re a little jealous of it, to be honest. 
Yoongi leans forward slightly, and a piece of pizza meets him halfway, floating gently into his grasp. “Do you remember,” he begins, settling back in against the couch, “when we were 16 and we went camping?” You hum an affirmative. “We spent most of the week playing old board games with my parents.”
You smile at the memory. If anyone had asked back then, you would have told them it was lame that you’d had to spend the whole time with Yoongi’s parents. But now? That was one of the more fun summers you’d ever had. “What made you think of that?”
He shrugs, mouth full of pizza. “I dunno. But I’ve been thinking about it a lot recently. Things were so much simpler then…” 
You nod and hum softly, but ultimately, you say nothing. Much simpler indeed. 
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“You know,” Yoongi begins, zipping his coat up to his chin, “when you said ‘park’, I was kind of expecting it to be in the city.”
“I think technically it is.” You lock your car and meet him at the front of it.
“We drove for an hour!”
You shrug. “Big city.”
He laughs and shakes his head, incredulous. He can’t tell if you’re being serious or not, but there was a sign on the way in with the university logo on it, so he supposes that whether it’s part of the city or not, it doesn’t really matter. There’s a well-lit trail that runs from the shale parking lot up a hill slightly to a clearing that overlooks the city and the rest of the park. It’s busy–people mill about around the parking lot, and he can see a steady stream of visitors on the trail up to the clearing. 
He adjusts his coat–it’s cold, and both his shoulder and his senses ache with the impending snow–and when he’s ready, the two of you start walking toward the trail. It’s astonishingly busy, and as you weave your way through the crowd, leading him up the hill, he grabs your hand. 
So we don’t get separated, he tells himself. For a moment, he expects you to pull away. Not maliciously, he’s not expecting you to scoff and throw his hand away. But what he isn’t expecting is for you to tighten your grip on him and tug him this way and that as you get closer to the clearing. His hand is warm where your skin touches his, like he’s holding a candle a little too close to the flame.
The clearing is massive, mostly flat but not entirely, with gentle rolling slopes that provide some extra elevation here and there. On one of the little hills, a few food trucks are set up, though how they got there, Yoongi isn’t really sure. Someone must have magicked them through the path or up the hill or something. There are picnic tables scattered around, mostly near the food trucks, but throughout the clearing, as well. Towards the edge of the clearing, there’s a cliff with an overlook that has a spectacular view of the city vista below. People are everywhere. Of course, there are a lot of college-aged kids hanging out in big and small groups. But there’s also a shocking amount of people that are Yoongi’s age and older–professors, he assumes, and university staff here to enjoy the evening. Almost all of them are holding drinks, and just about every one of them seems to be paired with someone.
It’s subtle sometimes, seeing bonded witches and familiars. Of course, the ones who are romantically involved tend to be more obvious, but the ones that are just friends are just as easy to spot once you know what to look for. It’s the people who stand so close together they’re almost touching, the ones who lean in a little extra close to whisper something. And the clearing is full of pairs standing in each other’s personal spaces.
You tug on his hand to direct him off to the left and he blindly follows, squeezing your fingers ever so gently as a response. 
There’s a pair of people at one of the tables by the food trucks. They spot you almost immediately, and one of them stands to greet you. He’s a little taller than you are, made even more obvious when he gives you an awkward, one-armed hug over the picnic table’s bench. The other one–a woman–remains seated, eyeing Yoongi.
For a hot minute, it’s weird, as he stands there in silence while you chat with the man and woman. It’s not even the side-eye that the woman’s shooting him. The man is handsome–Yoongi’s not blind–and you are friendly with him. But there’s a moment, the briefest of moments, where you gesture somewhere off to your left. And when your body moves, Yoongi’s arm moves, too, and a little part of him, a silly, childish, hopeful part, soars.
You’re still holding his hand.
Eventually, you introduce him to the two. Alice works the reference desk in your library while she’s doing a doctorate program in linguistics. Her partner is gone in the winter, fighting fires in the far south. Despite her harsh side-eye, she greets Yoongi with a smile and a polite handshake. Jihwan, on the other hand, is the head baseball coach at the university. How the two of you met, Yoongi can only guess, but you make no mention of Jihwan’s partner, and Yoongi doesn’t see a gem anywhere. He almost–almost–starts to feel bad for the guy, but then he opens his mouth.
You ask a simple question, gesturing with your head to the food trucks. “What do they have good?”
“The pierogi guy from last year is back-”
Jihwan interrupts Alice. “Too much butter.”
It’s not even what he says. It’s how he says it. Like you and Alice are toddlers, like you can’t be trusted not to drown yourselves in carbs. But you roll your eyes and Alice scoffs playfully, and Yoongi realizes that this is not the first time Jihwan has done something like this. And suddenly, Yoongi hates this guy. 
“Apparently, he’s got a new flavor this year,” Alice says, continuing like Jihwan never interrupted. “But the taco guy is also back-”
“Is the popcorn guy back?” you ask. laughing. “Because I kind of want a front-row seat to that.” Yoongi must look confused, because you explain. “Pierogi guy’s daughter was engaged to taco guy’s daughter. But last year, pierogi guy and taco guy just started yelling at each other-”
“-It was amazing,” Alice adds.
“It was ridiculous,” Jihwan mumbles.
You push him.  “It was a little like having our own little telenovela here.”
Cautiously, Yoongi asks, “Why were they fighting?”
“No one knows.” You shrug. “But it launched a campus-wide food war. Everyone was choosing sides. It was like the year the Moondance tried to change its logo.”
Jihwan and Alice look at you, a little confused. But Yoongi knows exactly what you’re talking about. Somewhere around when you were preteens, the owners of the Moondance diner decided that its logo was outdated and wanted to update it. The whole town had been in an uproar, whole neighborhoods entering into a Cold War-esque stand-off over their preferences. People who had been friends for 50 years were suddenly in an unsolvable, unending argument. All over a color palette swap and a slightly newer font. Yoongi hadn’t cared much one way or the other–all businesses change their logos at some point, right?–and he always suspected that you didn’t either, but you’d both gotten swept up in the chaos of it all. It was stupid, ridiculous fun, and he’s pretty sure that his parents still have the buttons you’d made somewhere in their house.
You finally let go of Yoongi’s hand when you’re standing in line at the taco truck, and he’s painfully aware of how empty it feels now. You don’t go far, though, standing close enough that your elbow brushes against his every once in a while. You’re scrolling through your phone, reading some news article to pass the time. It’s gotten darker since you’ve been there, and looking up, he can just barely make out a couple pinpricks of stars in the sky. The clearing is fairly bright, with little flickering balls of light criss-crossing the space like bistro lighting, and the lights from the city below don’t help to make the night sky visible. 
You pay for his tacos–”I get an employee discount,” you say, brandishing your university id like it’s a black card–and Yoongi doesn’t think that you were in line that long, but when you return to the table, Alice and Jihwan are gone. 
“Where’d-” He’s not even asked the question, but you’re already shrugging.
“Alice’s probably off calling her fiance,” you say it like you’re back in high school, all singsong-y and mockingly, “and who knows where Jihwan got to. Probably trying to take someone home tonight.”
“He seems…”
You sigh. “Yeah.”
“How’d you meet him?”
A pang of… something hits him. Your expression falls, ever so slightly, and he regrets asking. But after a brief moment, you clear your throat. “He and I are the only two on campus without gems.”
Oh. 
Well.
That makes sense.
“So they…”
You pick a piece of red cabbage off your taco and eat it. “Yeah, they know.”
Which explains Alice’s side-eye earlier. The weird emotion he’d gotten from you is gone now, and you seem to have just brushed right past the awkward feelings. 
He hums, not really sure what to say. What’s there to say? So instead of saying anything dumb, he does the safe thing. He changes the subject.
“No wonder they didn’t kick the taco guy out of the festival this year.” He takes another bite of his taco. “This is the best al pastor I’ve ever had.”
“His chimichangas are amazing, but he only makes them on special days.”
“More special than…?” He gestures vaguely. Around you, the lights have started to dim. Yoongi isn’t really sure when that started, but things are definitely less bright.
You laugh, and something inside of him warms.
He hasn’t even finished his tacos yet, but the vibe in the clearing starts to dramatically change. The crowd gathers tighter, a palpable buzz in the air. Alice has returned and stands alone near the head of the table. She’s looking up at the sky, and when Yoongi looks up, he sees why. There’s an aurora in the sky, gentle waves of effervescent greens and blues swirling through the heavens, just like the night market all those years ago. It has to be magic of some sort–the city isn’t far enough north for it to be natural–but he can’t tell who’s doing it.
A hand on his shoulder pulls his focus back to the ground. You’re there behind him, bathed in the dim glow of the floating lights around you. By now, it’s almost dark, but even in the low light and deep shadows, you’re beautiful. 
“Come on,” you say softly. “Let’s get a good spot closer to the lookout.”
He follows you through the crowd, weaving around the bodies to get closer to the edge of the clearing. It’s tight, and you grab his hand so you don’t get separated. Normally, Yoongi isn’t a huge fan of crowds like this. You’re a small island in a sea of people, and he barely has room to turn in a circle without bumping into someone. You stand close–close enough that he can feel your warmth through the chill of the night.
The city spans the valley below, a forest of metal and windows and concrete. A bright spot in the middle of an otherwise dark night. But then, individually at first and then more, the buildings’ lights begin to flicker out.
“They’ve been doing this festival since before the city got public electricity,” you explain, answering his question before he could even ask. “It’s kind of a big deal.”
With the lights of the city mostly out, the stars above are much brighter. He can almost see them twinkling and winking as they burn, millions of billions of lightyears away. The night sky is beautiful, and his eyes drift around to locate the constellations he’d learned as a child. Almost immediately, he finds Perseus, right beside his wife Andromeda. You’d loved the myth of Perseus slaying Medusa when you were kids, and even though he hadn’t looked for the constellation in over a decade, finding it is still ingrained in him. 
He nudges you slightly, pointing up to the constellation. But just as he does, a pinprick of light streaks across the sky. You squeeze his hand as more streaks start to appear and the gathered crowd buzzes with ‘ooh’s and ‘aah’s. The meteors are all sizes. Big and bright. Small and thin. They aren’t constant, only a few show up every minute, but it’s beautiful to watch. 
There’s a strange sensation growing in his chest, something warm and fluttering and all-encompassing. You lean a little closer and the feeling grows. You must sense something–he’s never really been sure what his emotions feel like for you–because you look up at him. For a moment, you look confused.
Yoongi isn’t really sure how it happens, but what he does know is that suddenly, your face is centimeters from his own. He thinks that maybe someone bumped you and you took a step closer, but maybe that’s just his brain trying to fill in the gaps. He also knows that he’s the one that closes the space between you, leans in and brushes his lips against yours. It’s quick, a little impulsive, and truthfully, it feels a little forbidden. 
He pulls away, not far enough to make it seem like he’s made a mistake, but enough that it gives you an out, if you want it. His brain starts making all these calculations–what he should do if you back away, what he should do if you slap him, what if you don’t react.
But then you whisper, “Why’d you stop?” and your hand slides up his chest to grip the lapel of his coat. You tug with a surprising amount of force, and when your lips connect, he feels himself soaring. 
His entire world narrows to the points where your bodies connect. The firm touch of your knuckles against his shirt, the way your leg presses against his, but mostly the heat from your lips as he deepens the kiss. You fit against him perfectly, as if you were made for each other. He’d only kissed you that one time, but somehow, he’d missed it, missed you. 
When you finally pull away, you stay close, pressed against his chest–though whether that’s fully your choice or because of the crowd tightening around you is anyone’s guess. He can feel your heart pounding, and when you shoot him a small smirk, he’s pretty sure that you can feel the pace of his own pulse. Your grip loosens on the collar of his coat and you smooth it down coolly before your arm wraps around his back. Without a word, you cozy in, pressed close as your gaze returns to the sky and to the stars.
For a moment, he stands there, unmoving, mind empty. But then it’s like he snaps out of a trance, and he snakes an arm around your waist, holding you tightly. His focus shifts to the shooting stars above, catching one just as it streaks across the sky. As he stands there, staring at the heavens and feeling your steady breathing, his mind begins to wander.
12 years, 7 months, and 3 days. He’d spent most of that time wondering what would have happened if he hadn’t left. If, after he’d kissed you at the night market, he’d been satisfied with whatever life had come after that. He’d been so scared back then, of losing control, of his life not being his own. But now, none of that matters.
Now, he’d give up almost anything to stay here, in this moment, in your arms. 
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okay so like... what do we think? how are we feeling? I was originally planning on having this be much longer, but I was so stressed out from grad school, I just wanted to get it out now. I'm so excited to hear your thoughts! and let me know if you want to see a part 2 (and if so, what you might want to see in it!!)
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2K notes · View notes
jjkeverlast · 2 years
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unexpected lovers | myg
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-> pairing artist!yoongi x female reader
-> genre fake dating!au, romantic comedy
-> summary what happens when you meet min yoongi at the club, or well accidentally use him as your pawn to not get hit on. not knowing your cousins friend overhears and suddenly your whole family knows.
-> word count 8.7k
-> warnings angst (it's slightly heavy), denial, swearing, alcohol consumption, jealousy, smut (unprotected sex), fingering, exhibitionism, oral (m. receiving), soft dom!yoongi, fluff in the end :'), time gap!!
(lil side note all credits go to the rightful owner of this yoongi pic)
PART 2 OUT OF 2 | PART 1
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The rest of the evening is a blur. You see Yoongi maybe once or twice, chatting with Aunt Pamela, her showing pictures of what you guess is Kimchi. Why did it suddenly feel stuffy between you? Whenever he found you staring at him, he turned his eyes elsewhere as if looking at you would cause damage. You decide to distract yourself from the aching pain in your chest – mostly your heart. Seokjin is a great company for a few hours and so is Sam and Philip. It cheered you up more until they brought in Yoongi’s name, asking where he was. You brush them off, internally wanting to find Yoongi but what could you say? It’s not like he liked you, no, maybe he was just too into playing the role of your boyfriend. It’s a thing right? These things always happen when two people decide to fake date. 
The arena was slowly becoming emptier by the hours passing and Yoongi was still not in sight. You couldn’t help but feel worried. Hurriedly you walked to the hotel room and the room was empty, emptier than before. Yoongi’s suitcase was gone, only a note on the bed was left. 
Sorry, work called. 
It hurt. Yoongi left without saying goodbye, although it seemed as if he already did when he left you stranded on the dance floor after your lips slightly brushed. Was that why he left? You took the note, crumbling it into pieces, growing angry at his act. He had no right to just walk away. With no warning, no, nothing. You heard a knock on the door and some part of you hoped deep down it was Yoongi. He probably regrets leaving and now he’s come back to apologize. Oh did you wish that were true, but instead it was Marco. 
‘’Oh, hi Marco.’’ Your greeting must’ve given the wrong signal because you only received a weird and slightly offended reaction from him. 
‘’Were you expecting someone else?’’ Yes. Of course you did. For whatever reason you wished Yoongi was still here, maybe you just got used to having him around. 
‘’No, come on in.’’ Marco didn’t hesitate, walking in sync with you to the bedroom. 
‘’Weren’t you sharing a room with Mr. Min?’’ Marco is trying to joke with you seeing your less happy state than earlier and it does not work. 
‘’Work called, so he left.’’ The words stung leaving your mouth and Marco, knowing you well, noticed. ‘’Fucking asshole.’’ Marco muttered under his breath but truth be told, you were the asshole. You somehow hurt Yoongi and the worst part was you didn’t even know what did it. 
At least you were seeing him again on Monday for the suit design, maybe then you’ll have a decent talk about what happened back on the dance floor and you for sure hoped he would cooperate. 
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You were early, for once in your life. The reason behind that being you barely slept. The morning after Yoongi had left, you were stormed with questions about Yoongi’s whereabouts. It was killing you and on the flight home you ended up puking, your lie breaking you completely. Amanda didn’t question your worn out state, seeing you were the last one in the mood to speak. Instead you heard about Amanda’s pleasant weekend which she spent with the cute bartender, who’s actually her boyfriend now. 
‘’And then Hoseok took me out for a romantic picnic.’’ Hearing all the sappy cliché shit Amanda experienced made you happy for her but somehow also wanting to gag out of jealousy. You only kept humming in response and Amanda didn’t stop. 
‘’This might be a big TMI… but he’s really good with his hands. Explains how he’s so good at making drinks.’’ 
‘’Amanda! That was a big TMI!’’ 
‘’What was?’’ You see Yoongi lean onto the doorframe, him wearing an oversized green flannel, a white t-shirt and denim oversized washed jeans. His choice of fashion, of course, has to be killer and kill you in the process. 
‘’Yoongi! Ugh it’s just stupid girl talk about men… I’m sure you don’t wanna hear about it.’’ Amanda is the queen of letting things slide, so it didn’t surprise you when Yoongi didn’t ask further, instead standing with Amanda going over the last details of the suit. The suit was soon done and Yoongi thanked you both, sending butterflies directly your way. You couldn’t help but smile but got reminded of the hurt you felt when he left. He seems surprisingly fine for someone who looked hurt not even two days ago. It bugged you. Not because you wanted Yoongi to feel hurt, it just showed it was all in your head. He was never hurt in the first place. He got clearly uncomfortable about the almost kiss. You interrupt your thoughts seeing Yoongi left, he left without a warning towards you, only Amanda. Something is still off between you, and you rush to catch him before he leaves for good. 
‘’Yoongs!’’ Fuck, maybe calling him his nickname is a bad timing. But the nickname just slipped out as soon as you saw his figure exciting the building. To your surprise, Yoongi doesn’t turn, he continues his route home and you immediately get thrown back to the night he left you after saving you at the club. No, you’re not going to let him leave this time. 
Running in heels is hard, but you sacrifice the aching pain in your feet and run to catch up to Yoongi. Finally grabbing him in the arm making him flinch but finally turning to see you. 
‘’Yoongi.’’ You’re panting right after, holding up a finger to catch your breath, firmly holding onto Yoongi so he doesn’t walk away. He patiently waits for you and when you can form your words you look at him.
‘’You left.’’ 
Yoongi doesn’t respond and you take it as a sign to continue. 
‘’Why, why did you leave?’’ You seem to lose eye contact, looking down onto the sidewalk instead. 
‘’Y/N, you know why.’’ His words shock you, did you really know? You have an idea of what he could be referring to, but still this is Yoongi, you want to be sure. 
‘’I.. I have an idea.’’ You feel small all of a sudden. You don’t want to hurt Yoongi or even worse yourself, and it’s not going as well as you were hoping. 
‘’Then you know why I left.’’ Yoongi is about to walk away again, but you stop him, grabbing onto him yet again. 
‘’Wait… just tell me. Please just tell me why you left.’’ You are still confused, especially since Yoongi is hiding the very obvious fact, which you seem to not know. 
‘’Are you really gonna make me say it?’’ Yoongi’s tone indicates he’s irritated. But you need to know. So, you nod in response, finally gaining enough courage to look at him again. 
‘’I like you Y/N, thought it was pretty obvious when I tried to kiss you.’’ Your mouth can’t help but drop, his words sending a heat wave through your body. Yoongi likes you… Why is that so hard for you to believe? Oh right. You’re incapable of love. Once Yoongi finds out who you truly are he’s going to leave and you can’t let that happen. You wish your words turned into a reciprocation of his own, but the little voice in the back of your head tells you to run. 
‘’I–’’ You choke on your own words and again, the familiar hurt in Yoongi’s eyes return. His lips don’t move, remaining in a straight line. 
‘’That’s why I left Y/N. You clearly don’t feel the same way. I’m such an idiot for thinking you did.’’ He shakes his head and before you can stop him, he turns and leaves, just like he did back at the wedding. 
You fucked up. You fucked up so bad. 
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Since the suit got delivered to Yoongi there wasn’t any contact between you. A day didn’t pass where you didn’t mentally slap yourself for not admitting your feelings to him. Of course you like him. Yoongi is such a kind soul and so beautiful; how could someone not fall for him? You try to distract yourself by going clubbing with Amanda, and of course it’s the club where you first met Yoongi – or well Hoseok’s workplace. You feel uneasy, sitting so close to the stools where Yoongi and you sat not long ago. His rings on full display and you couldn’t help but gawke at them. The way he called you ‘my girl’ gave you instant butterflies and you tried your best to keep your cool. You smile, while thinking back to it and Amanda is too busy to notice, by admiring her boyfriend shaking the cups together. You want to work on yourself, work on this ideal image you have of love and find your worth. Some part of you knew that your worth had been ruined by your mother’s words for as long as you remember. Even Amanda knew how much your mother had an impact on the way you see yourself. 
‘’Y/N?’’ You look up seeing Amanda with a concerned expression. Hoseok was nowhere to be seen – probably taking orders from the corner of the bar. 
‘’You don’t look okay.’’ Amanda could read you like a book.You are far from okay and she can see it. You don’t really feel like telling her this instant of what’s been going on, instead you tell her you’re tired since your last project and you just need to rest. Amanda is quick to let you go, also because she is very busy with her handsome boyfriend. 
It doesn’t take long for you to get home, the club is placed pretty close to your apartment. Sitting in your apartment in complete silence doesn’t help the hurt you’re going through. In all honesty you were just scared. Growing up love and affection wasn’t shown as much as you’d wished. It later affected your love life, finding random hookups on apps to just feel something, anything.
At some point you accepted that this was your fate. Your fate was that you’ll never get chosen, you’ll be the person on the sideline helping people realize they’re in love with someone else. You were like the second female lead in every k-drama you’d watched. You wanted to feel love, actual decent love but again, is someone even capable of liking you, loving you? Your mother pushed you too much, to the point where love seemed unrealistic. Like an image popping up in your brain but quickly fading into something else.
That’s how you perceive love and it’ll remain as a scar on your body. You never felt butterflies, or a rush sent directly to your cheeks until… until you met him. Min Yoongi.
It was so unexpected. Suddenly you were pulled together and it remained like this, almost as if your souls were connected since you pointed at him randomly to a stranger. Weird.
You never saw that in a romantic comedy, normally the first encounters of the two strangers are so cliché. Yours and Yoongi feel that way too but you’re not mad about it. On the other hand you find yourself smiling a bit, reminiscing back to when you and Yoongi had an accidental pillow fight or when you and Aunt Bridget caught him naked and her comment about his… oh god.
Fuck, how could your small internal voice mess up something that was so good? Every part of you wanted Yoongi, you know that, you knew that since he was the first you caught onto in a full crowded club.
When the three words left his lips you felt dizzy, your head couldn’t comprehend that someone and especially someone you wanted deep down to like you, did. It hurt, it hurt so badly that your heart wasn’t even beating as much. You felt empty, guilty and overall hopeless.
You fucked up for good. Yoongi will never just as much look at you again, now you are gaining butterflies thinking back to the sparkle that kept reappearing in his eyes. The sparkle you found yourself growing so fond of. You’ll never see it again. The night ends with you falling asleep, fully dressed on your couch, too tired to get up and do something about your appearance. 
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Yoongi’s exhibition was nearing, you wish you could go but it would be wrong to ruin his day by showing up, reminding him of the hurt you caused by simply not responding to his confession. He doesn’t need that. 
You’ve been stuck in your apartment since you went out clubbing with Amanda, your phone kept blowing up with texts from her, her clearly being worried over you calling sick for work. You love to work and now you suddenly don’t. You’re so consumed into reflecting that working is the last thing you can do. But, the cons of staying home for so long is running out of food very quickly. Well, the local supermarket is not far away and it’s almost night. You don’t bother changing into something more presentable, instead keeping your oversized not-at-all stained t-shirt and sweats. With headphones on, you walk out after writing a small list of items you’re missing. 
The supermarket is almost stranded, it looks like every supermarket in zombie films or the world has ended and one person survived, in this case you. The man at the cashier looks tired and he’s almost falling asleep on his palm. Poor guy, you can’t help but think, so for his sake you decide to be quick. You’re strolling through each aisle, picking one or two items calmly with your headphones on, playing your favorite songs on shuffle. 
You look down on your list, seeing you’re missing vegetables and fruit, so you walk towards the greens. The first fruit that catches your eye is avocado. Huh. That’s really funny universe, you can stop the ‘you need to be reminded of him constantly’ bullshit. You look up giving direct contact to the ceiling and inwardly scolding the universe for this sappy bullshit. Enough is enough. Oh how did you speak too soon…
You see him, Yoongi, checking if the eggs are cracked further away from you. You are surprised that you find yourself at the same place and time as Yoongi, once again. Only this time, he’s not a so-called stranger anymore. But seeing him from a distance, it feels as if you two never knew each other and that stings a bit but what really cracks for you is the woman coming up to him with a cart. You don’t really catch on to their conversation but Yoongi seems more relaxed than last time you saw him. His smile, for once, is visible. His gummy smile, you gulp at the sight and you remember how you can’t let him see you, not in this state and especially not when he’s with his new girlfriend! You’re quick to grab the missing vegetables on the list and the almost sleepy man is quicker than you expected. You keep looking back, praying Yoongi and his girlfriend aren’t done with the groceries yet. To your luck they aren’t and you leave with no trouble.
The only trouble that accumulates are your feelings. You’ve officially lost him. There was no hope for the both of you and it was your fault. You were so scared to the point you pushed the one good thing you had in your life and now he’s found someone. Someone who likes him for him and he likes her for her, good for him. He deserves this. 
You smile, yet tears stain your cheeks as you unpack the groceries. You’re fine Y/N, it’ll pass, these things always happen to people like us, it’s okay. You keep reassuring yourself until you're wrapped under your warm duvet, your eyes resting. 
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It’s today. Yoongi is having his exhibition and you just want to distract yourself from that. Knowing how he already looks in a suit, you imagine him in the suit you personally designed for him, his girlfriend will be pleased with that sight. It’s weird how bitter you feel when the thought of ‘Yoongi’s girlfriend’ pops up. Amanda is quick to catch unto your weird behavior, she knew it all started since you came back from the wedding, what the fuck happened? Of course Amanda can’t help but think your mother got to your head again and this time you really took her words to heart. This explains Amanda inviting you over to her place for some wine, or her way of saying ‘you need to speak up or I will.’ 
Which is why you’re currently at Amanda’s apartment, sitting comfortably on her white couch while she pours two glasses. 
‘’How are you and Hoseok?’’ You’re curious as well, Amanda babbles non stop about him but it distracts you from your pain, knowing a person you care for is happy. 
‘’We’re doing well. He really makes me happy.’’ 
‘’You deserve it. I’m happy for you.’’ Amanda smiles as she sits next to you, handing a glass to you. 
‘’Y/N, I need you to speak up.’’ She looks extremely worried and at this point you feel bad. You hid this huge secret from a loyal and beautiful friend who’s been there for you ever since you two became colleagues. 
‘’Okay, but I just want to start off by saying I had a reason for not telling you any sooner, okay?’’ She nods, sipping casually on her wine and you let out a deep breath starting from the beginning. Talking about how it all started caused butterflies to erupt in your stomach, the images flashing in your brain over every small moment you shared with Yoongi the week before the wedding. Amanda giggles when you tell her about the PowerPoint you specifically made for Yoongi. 
‘’That is such a you thing to do!’’ 
She’s right, it’s always been in you to make silly PowerPoints who turn out super helpful. Hearing Amanda saying it’s a you thing made you slowly begin to realize that you’ve truly been yourself around Yoongi. Before you can reflect further, you continue telling what happened, from the plane scene and you making rules to finding out there was only bed for you two to share. 
‘’Y/N, I’m gonna have to stop you for a moment. You’re telling me you’ve experienced the ‘there’s only bed’ trope? What are you, living in some sort of romance novel?’’ It only makes you laugh, because it’s indeed silly how you and Yoongi experienced such a cliché thing on the trip and Amanda really made you realize that. 
‘’He was so scared, like to the point he made a pillow barrier between us.’’ 
‘’What? You’re kidding!’’ She throws her head back laughing and it becomes uncontrollable when you tell her the pillow ripped in two. 
‘’You guys had a lot of fun.’’ You nod in agreement. You really did have fun, the both of you. 
She encourages you to continue and you explain the rehearsal dinner and your mother’s behavior, but that Yoongi was comforting you in the best way so it didn’t affect you as much. Amanda smiles kindly when you go in depth of how well Yoongi communicated with your family members and especially Aunt Pamela. 
‘’Amanda you should’ve seen it, never in my life have I seen Pamela talk as much!’’ Your eyes light up, you becoming overly joyful at the interaction between them. It really made your heart flutter. 
‘’Oh and then, Aunt Bridget and I, we, um, caught… Yoongi naked.’’ Amanda ends up choking on her wine, her eyes becoming more visible. 
‘’W-what!?’’ She’s in shock. Your lips move to a straight line not knowing what to say. 
‘’Was he…’’ She quirks her eyebrows and you stop her before she can continue.
‘’Amanda!’’ She only snorts in return and you continue afterwards, reaching to the not-so-good part of the adventure. It’s hard to formulate that intimate moment you shared on the dance floor but once it’s out you have Amanda almost screaming in front of you.
‘’You almost kissed?! And you fucking pulled away?! What the fuck!!!’’ You stare at her blankly, didn’t really peg her for the shipper kind of person but she seemed way too invested in this. 
‘’I– I was scared, okay? Remember we set rules and one of them was no kissing!’’ You argue your way out of your scaredy cat moment but Amanda only rolls her eyes at your stupid comeback. 
‘’You’re ridiculous Y/N, clearly that moment was real between you. No fake dating, just you and Yoongi.’’ You lose all your words, aware of Amanda’s reason. She was absolutely right. Yoongi wouldn’t have tried to kiss you if it weren’t real. 
‘’You’re right.’’ You let your head fall backwards, letting out a long awaited sigh. ‘’Amanda, that day in the office? When the suit was done?’’ You turn to look at her and her face screams like a puzzle, not knowing where you’re going with this.
‘’What about it?’’
‘’He told me he likes me.’’ Your heartbeat increases with your words. He likes you, or well, liked past tense. 
‘’What the fuck are you doing here then? Go after him!’’ Amanda encourages you and you wish deeply it was that easy. 
‘’Amanda… it’s not that easy.’’ Amanda again looks like a lost puppy and you continue to fill her confused mind. ‘’I saw him with someone two days ago, a woman.’’ 
Amanda grunts in annoyance and you only hum in response, knowing it’s too late. 
‘’Are you sure they’re dating?’’ 
‘’I mean, he was smiling a lot.’’ 
‘’You’re telling me that just because Yoongi smiled, that they’re dating? Y/N you sound ridiculous!’’ 
‘’Well, they- they might?’’ You’re careful with your words, cause you sure as hell sound dumb right now and the look of Amanda proves it. 
‘’Y/N, you can never be sure, seriously if I were you I’d run to the exhibition right now and confess. Please, everyone can tell you like Yoongi just stop being an idiot and go!’’ Amanda’s encouragement definitely helps you. You nod, grabbing all your things and rushing out towards the exhibition. You look at the time and see that Yoongi is about to start his exhibition, shit you can’t miss it. Taking an Uber will certainly get you late although your legs might save you. So you run, run as fast as your body can, with only one thing on your mind, Yoongi. Min Yoongi, the unexpected stranger and fake boyfriend who makes you smile, gain butterflies and is a king at annoying you. 
Running to the exhibition feels like hours on end, but when you finally arrive and see Yoongi standing next to a painting, covered with a white sheet, the pain in your feet was all worth it. Yoongi looks amazing, mesmerizing even. His brown hair is pushed back and he’s wearing… glasses. You don’t even know how long you’re standing outside the art gallery before stepping in, because Yoongi’s presence so near you, made your heart almost full even though you haven’t confessed to him yet. 
You finally enter the art gallery and sneak behind the very full crowd, standing in a half circle around Yoongi. He doesn’t notice you, which is why you hide yourself behind two tall men in the first place. It’s his night and you don’t want to ruin it. 
‘’Thank you so much for attending my ever first exhibition!’’ Yoongi exclaims and people around him start clapping and cheering him on, his gummy smile on full display. You can’t help but feel proud of him, so many people are here to see his work, his art. 
‘’I’d personally also like to thank Kim Namjoon, for being the first to ever set eye on my art and making this exhibition possible.’’ Everyone turns and Namjoon bows with a smile, while people cheer – you included. 
‘’The painting I’m about to show you is called Fake Love. It’s a very personal piece and I’m very excited for you to see it!’’ With that, Yoongi pulls on the white sheet and the painting is now on full display. People are quick to cheer and nod in awe of Yoongi’s art. 
Everyone starts to part ways and explore his other paintings, set out around the art gallery. He greets a few of them as they pass and compliment his work. You see Seokjin praising Yoongi for his art with a pat on the back. Yoongi is blushing and is probably not believing his favorite actor is commenting on his work. 
It takes a lot of courage for you to step closer to Yoongi. Seokjin just left to look around further and now was the perfect opportunity to confess. 
‘’Hi.’’ You stand a few meters away to keep a fair distance. Yoongi sets eyes on you and his mouth drops.
‘’Y-Y/N… What are you doing here?’’ He seems nervous all of a sudden, so you decide to smile to ease the intense atmosphere around you. 
‘’I couldn’t miss it.’’ You reason and Yoongi seems relieved by your answer but also a bit disappointed. He looks away, his brown eyes now looking at the hardwood floor. 
‘’That’s not the only reason I came.’’ That surely catches Yoongi’s attention and you’re met with hopeful eyes. 
‘’It’s not?’’ You shake your head no before continuing.
‘’I came to tell you that, I like you Min Yoongi.’’ 
‘’But you… At Fashlance..’’ Yoongi is mumbling all sorts of commission, not believing you like him too. 
‘’I was scared, a part of me still is but I’m willing to go all in.’’ You move a bit closer, him not moving an inch in response. 
‘’Scared?’’ 
‘’I… well I always thought I was incapable of love so that’s why it seemed unbelievable that you liked me too. I fleeted to avoid the hurt.’’ This time Yoongi steps closer to you, his thumb pressing onto your cheek, saving your tear from falling further. You didn’t even notice you were crying. 
‘’Hey, I like you for you and I’m scared too! Dating is so fucking scary, trust me! But it’s worth it, if it means I get to experience it with you.’’ The sparkle you so dearly missed is back in Yoongi’s eyes and you smile at the sight. 
‘’I would love that.’’ Yoongi is pulling further in and as your lips brush against each other, you pull away. 
‘’Is this a weird timing to ask if you’re seeing someone?’’ Yoongi looks at you dumbfounded and you mentally scold yourself for ruining such a perfect moment. 
‘’I saw you with someone… at the supermarket.’’ 
‘’Oh, you mean my sister?’’ You really are dumb. Instead you both laugh it off, Yoongi’s hands each resting on your cheeks. ‘’Can I kiss you now?’’ You nod and his lips land on yours. They feel soft and plumb against your own. Yoongi’s smile is prominent as his lips as they rest on yours. The kiss is tender and you finally feel whole. You both move in sync before pulling away. His forehead is resting against yours and you’re met with his smile that causes butterflies. 
‘’Finally!’’ 
You see Seokjin clapping cheerfully. Did he just see you and Yoongi kiss? Your cheeks grow hot out of embarrassment and you hide in Yoongi’s chest. 
‘’Oh, Y/N, calm down I didn’t see everything.’’ Seokjin throws in, knowing you always try to hide when you grow embarrassed. Yoongi’s chest vibrates as he laughs at your silly act. 
‘’I told him everything, he knows.’’ That makes you shoot your head up quickly, Seokjin waving jazz hands at you. You stare at him blankly not knowing what’s more embarrassing, him knowing you made Yoongi your fake boyfriend or the fact he saw the two of you kiss. 
‘’I mean, your acting was so great you two fell for each other!’’ Seokjin jokes and you all three giggle at it. The ambiance is much more comfortable and even lighter than before. 
‘’Yoongi, I think there’s something you need to tell Ms. Y/N.’’ With a smirk Seokjin leaves you standing next to his painting.
‘’I.. um, made this.’’ He points to the ‘Fake Love’ painting and seeing it up close makes you realize how talented Yoongi really is as an artist. The coats of painting melting all together creating a unique image. 
‘’When I left, I was hurt and to cope with it, I painted this.’’ The title immediately makes sense to you, he was referring to the fake dating and the hurt you caused him. You can’t help but tear up as the guilt eats you but Yoongi is quick to reassure you.
‘’Hey, I’m okay now. I’m glad you came and told me, really.’’ A small peck is given by him and you smile softly. 
Yoongi and you walk through his exhibition, Yoongi explains the meaning behind his paintings with love and admiration and you notice the sparkle in his eyes when he looks at his art. 
‘’I’ve noticed something.’’ He turns looking at you, the sparkle as bright as ever.
‘’You have this sparkle in your eyes, it’s beautiful.’’ You move closer, looking at it and Yoongi smiles with care.
‘’It appears when I look at something I admire.’’ He reasons and your cheeks grow hot, knowing it appears when he looks at you.
‘’That means you…’’ You bite back a smile, not knowing how to take in such words from him. You were overly giddy and you couldn’t believe Yoongi was finally yours. 
‘’I admire you Y/N. I have from the very beginning.’’ You don’t answer, instead you let your lips touch once more. Somehow the kiss turns heated and Yoongi nibbles on your bottom lip with his tongue. You can feel yourself growing hot over having Yoongi so close to you but again, you were at an exhibition. His to be exact. 
‘’Mmm– we’re in public.’’ You whisper as you pull back and Yoongi looks around, noticing some guests have already left. 
‘’I know, I know…’’ He leans in again, capturing your lips with his and you laugh but punch him lightly in the shoulder, making him pull away in an instant. 
‘’Min Yoongi! I am serious!’’ 
‘’Okay, just, wait here.’’ You’re confused when he leaves you mid in front of one of his paintings. You instead take the time to really admire his work, noticing the very small details and before you know it, Yoongi is back with a smirk on his face. 
‘’Everyone left.’’ He gets all giddy and you notice the now very empty art gallery. 
‘’Oh.’’ You're at a loss for words, the smirk on Yoongi’s face not disappearing, instead he leads you back to the Fake Love painting. 
‘’What now?’’ The lights have dimmed and you notice that Stigma is closed. You expect Yoongi to grab his things so you both can leave and celebrate him somewhere else, but that’s not exactly what he has in mind. 
‘’I want you to keep looking at the painting.’’ Your brows grow closer but obeying either way. Yoongi moves behind you, his arms wrapping around your figure and his chin resting on your shoulder. The warmth of Yoongi’s body so close to yours makes all your fears and insecurities vanish slowly the longer he holds onto you. His intentions clear as a blue sky that he’ll never let you go. 
‘’This feels nice.’’ Your hands rest on his, noticing his rings and fiddling with them. 
He hums in agreement and you turn your head a bit noticing the blush and yet again smirk on Yoongi’s face. He’s up to something and you suddenly grow nervous. 
‘’Keep looking.’’ You keep your eyes settled on the painting. Yoongi’s hand moves towards the waistband of your jeans, you’re quick to notice turning your head down. 
‘’Y/N. What did I tell you?’’ 
‘’But what are you–’’
‘’Just trust me. Keep looking at it.’’ Your head moves slowly up, eyes fixated on the painting once again. Yoongi lifts your shirt a bit, his cold fingers tracing small circles onto your stomach. You bite your lip, trying your best to remain focused on his art rather than his hand going further down and reaching your zipper. You swallow the forming clump in your throat, not believing Yoongi is touching you so sensually at an art gallery. But somehow, you don’t stop him, letting your body and mind trust him completely.
‘’Tell me what you see.’’ He whispers, his lips trailing on your ear, biting your earlobe softly. You inhale deeply, ‘’I see a heart, it’s almost fading, as if it’s transparent.’’ With that your zipper goes undone and Yoongi’s hand caresses your underwear. To make it even worse for you, his lips leave trails of kisses along your exposed neck, you can’t help but tilt your head out of reflex making him lightly chuckle. 
‘’Continue, I didn’t tell you to stop did I?’’ Yoongi’s tone immediately sends a rush in your body and you obey. ‘’There’s a shadow, it looks like a couple. They’re dancing in the middle of–’’ Your voice gets startled by Yoongi dragging his finger across your folds, his lips never leaving your neck. 
‘’Yoongs–’’ You try your best to keep your eyes on the painting but the contact of Yoongi’s slick fingers on your wet cunt, doesn’t help you to remain ‘focused’. 
‘’Mmm.’’ Yoongi keeps teasing you, his fingers only tracing against your wet folds, as if they didn’t dare enter. You were guessing you had to keep describing the painting for him to continue pleasuring you, using only his fingers. The fingers you’ve found yourself thirsting over since the beginning. ‘’They’re dancing, just like we did at the wedding.’’ Yoongi hums in response as if you’re correct and when you really catch on that he painted the both of you while his heart was hurting? You realize how true Yoongi’s feelings are towards you. It was never fake and surely his fingers caressing you are very real. So fucking real.
‘’You’re doing so well Y/N.’’ As his breath lands hot on the nape of your neck, his middle finger slides in with ease, filling you up nicely. Your mouth agape, a moan daring to leave your mouth but you swallow it with pride, trying your best to continue. 
‘’I like, I like what you did with the strokes of the brush.’’ 
‘’Thank you. Want me to show you how I did it?’’ You nod hesitantly, scared your focus will disappear in an instant as soon as he will show you just how he did it. 
‘’First I lightly stroked the brush against the canvas.’’ His finger goes back to stroking on your wet folds, now in a delicate gentle way, a muffled moan escaping you, your eyes about to close to fully enjoy the pleasure his fingers are giving you. 
‘’Then I dragged it all around, covering the whole canvas in paint.’’ Two fingers insert themselves and your head leans back, the stretch making you lose all focus of the art in front of you. The cold metal from his rings makes contact with your heat, which sends an unexpected shiver. Yoongi’s pace is slow but hypnotic. Your brain is all blurred yet your eyes capture all that he’s doing to you at this moment. He’s too focused to notice how you’ve leaned on him, not setting your eyes on what’s in front of you. 
‘’Fuck–’’ Followed by a moan from you, angelic, Yoongi would call it. His fingers are causing you so much pleasure and he can’t believe how well you’re taking them. Letting him do whatever he pleases. 
‘’Y/N,’’ with his other hand, he grabs the nape of your neck, pushing it upwards to face it, ‘’keep looking at it. Don’t ever stop looking at it.’’ You breathlessly respond with a low okay, his fingers never slowing down. His palm rubs itself onto your clit adding friction making you whimper, knowing if he keeps this up you’ll come undone over his fingers and coat him with your arousal. 
‘’Fuck Y/N, hear how wet you are.’’ The room goes quiet, the only noise filling it is Yoongi’s fingers pumping in and out of you, hearing clearly how wet you are and the sounds following right after. 
‘’Mmm–’’ The familiar knot appears in the pit of your stomach and you clung onto Yoongi’s moving arm, warning him that if he indeed continues you won’t be able to hold back. 
‘’I want you to. Please, fuck, come all over them.’’ His pace continues, the friction on your clit building up your orgasm wanting to unleash. Your eyes almost go blurry, a whimper escaping your lips as you finally coat Yoongi’s awaiting fingers with every drop of your arousal. He lets them rest inside of you, pleased by how warm you feel. 
‘’You did so well.’’ You receive a small kiss to the temple by Yoongi and he removes his fingers guiding them towards his mouth and savoring up your coated arousal. 
You’re speechless over how much Yoongi is loving every single drop of you. You’re still trying to comprehend how you let Yoongi finger fuck you in the middle of Kim Namjoon’s art gallery. 
‘’Now, I’m gonna take you home.’’ His gummy smile reappears and you are astounded by the duality of Min Yoongi. As if everything he just said now was a completely different person, the Yoongi you remember is a soft soul and that was not Yoongi. 
‘’O-okay.’’ He grabs your hand and you both finally walk out of Stigma. 
The ride home is pleasant, exchanged with ongoing conversations from what you both missed out on. ‘’I can’t believe you thought my sister was my girlfriend.’’ You grow embarrassed, remembering how you were so scared you’d look like a fool if they caught you in that state at the local supermarket. ‘’Don’t remind me!’’ You pout, crossing your arms trying your best to act offended. Yoongi only admires your attempt, caressing your cheek with his hand. ‘’You’re so cute.’’ 
Yoongi’s apartment is bigger than you expected. It’s a clean space and art pieces hanging on the white walls in the hallway. There’s a certain comfort to his apartment and you already feel much at home – also because you’re in the company of Yoongi. He leads you to his room after you’ve taken your coat off. As he takes the suit off, you notice the outline of his back muscles as he places it in his closet. You know that everything between you is good now, but then again, you want to show just how sorry you are for not speaking up sooner to Yoongi. 
‘’Yoongs?’’ You call out shyly, scared of how he’ll react to what you’re about to do. He turns, being met with your hands landing unto his chest, rubbing it softly. He blushes from your touches and how your palm feels hot against his skin, even though the fabric of the shirt stands in between. 
‘’Can I show you?’’  You start out by asking, taking in his expressions to your words. 
‘’Show me?’’ He repeats your words, indicating he’s uncertain of where this is leading. 
‘’Yes, let me show you just how sorry I am.’’ Yoongi doesn’t even get a chance to respond because you drop down to your knees, looking up to make sure he’s approving of this. 
‘’Fuck Y/N–’’ You smile at his instant reaction at your sudden act. You couldn’t stop thinking about making him feel so good after you saw the painting on full display at the art gallery. Now you’ve finally got him above you, waiting for your mouth to give him an unforgivable pleasure. You’re in such a hurry, not wanting to slow down in the process of removing his clothes. You’ve waited all afternoon to finally feel him in your mouth and get a taste of him. But the zipper becomes your worst enemy, staying put not daring to get pulled. ‘’Hey, Y/N, it’s okay.’’ Yoongi reassures you, seeing your clear struggle with his zipper. 
‘’Fuck, I’ve been waiting all afternoon.’’ You let out your struggles and when it finally comes undone you’re surprised to see Yoongi’s already hardened cock. 
‘’How’d you get hard so fast?’’ You look up, cupping his cock in your palm through the fabric and he hisses from the contact before giving you a response, ‘’The way you just couldn’t wait to get me in your mouth.’’ 
‘’I really can’t.’’ You pull his underwear down, being met with his cock, a sight that’s not unfamiliar. Only this time it’s on purpose for you to see him. You spit on your palm, dragging it over his cock, now glistening in your spit before you guide it towards your mouth. Yoongi’s hands are gently holding your hair, forming a messy bun so it doesn’t get in the way. He lets you explore his cock, your tongue running flatly from his base till his tip, coating him with more of your spit. You look up to see Yoongi already looking down at you, a half smirk on his face as his mouth is slightly agape from the pleasure which your tongue caused him. You notice the pre-cum on his tip, smearing it on your lips, finally taking the tip into your mouth. Yoongi moans, not believing how you are so willing to make him feel good. He can’t stop looking at you taking him almost all the way, using your hand for what you can’t reach. You try your best for him, inviting him all the way in and hollowing your cheeks as you suck him nicely, your lips running on the veins of his cock. 
‘’Ah– you look so fucking pretty.’’ You look up at him, his eyes still looking at every movement. Your mouth moves back to his tip, your tongue circling around it making Yoongi grab tightly onto your hair. Moving your hand towards his balls, gently playing with them. Yoongi loses all his words, the pleasure completely overcoming him and as his orgasm builds up his mind starts seeing you sprawled all over the bed, your heat desperately wanting him to fill you up. You’re still sucking Yoongi, wanting him to finish in your mouth but Yoongi abruptly stops you. 
‘’I’m begging you Y/N, please let me fuck you. Let me fill you up.’’ You slowly take him out of your mouth, some spit slides down to your chin but you look up to see Yoongi’s cheeks crimson red and the roots of his hair somewhat wet. He looks so beautiful and you stand to meet him eye to eye again. 
‘’Take me. I’m all yours.’’ He smiles shyly, cupping your face and kissing you with all that he’ve got. His lips mold gently against your own and you grow dizzy from his kisses. You follow his lead, letting him guide you towards the bed, his lips never leaving yours. 
‘’Be good for me and lay down.’’ You lay mildly, wanting to be good for Yoongi. He bites his lip seeing you obey so quickly. You look so mesmerizing and he’s so captured by you, the sparkle never disappearing once when he really looks at you. His hands are touching every part of you, admiring every single reaction that you give off by simply him touching you, caressing your warm skin as he takes off your clothes. He doesn’t remove another piece of clothing before giving you a small kiss on the body part that gets exposed. 
‘’This?’’ He places a kiss to your collarbone, ‘’all mine.’’ He moves down towards your breasts, ‘’these?’’ his lips latch onto your nipple, his tongue swirling around one at the time making you whimper out of disbelief over how good his tongue feels. ‘’All mine.’’ Your cheeks grow hot over how much he reassures you that you’re all his. No one else's. Just his. 
His mouth runs further down, almost reaching your heat until he looks up, seeing you so worn out with a smile and he hasn’t even fucked you yet. ‘’And lastly,’’ he places a kiss to your clit, making you gasp from the contact, ‘’your pussy, all mine.’’ He comes back up, caressing your hair with a smile on his face. ‘’Say it, say it’s all mine.’’ He whispers his words to you and you’re growing more hot by the minute, your arousal almost dripping down your thighs at Yoongi’s words. 
‘’It’s yours. All of it, yours.’’ Your fingers run through his hair, making him groan in satisfaction of feeling your fingers, touching him so sensually. 
Yoongi looks down, pumping his dick once or twice and looks back up to make sure you’re okay. You nod, spreading your legs wider for him. He presses his forehead against yours, the tip of his cock smearing itself in your arousal before pushing in with ease. As his cock finally buries itself in you, you both gasp in tact from the contact. He stretches you out so good you feel as if you’ll come again. He stays nestled in you, biting back a moan of how good you’re taking him, your walls squeezing nicely around him. You latch your lips onto his lips, peppering him with small kisses. Yoongi finally gains courage to move his hips, grinding deeper into you, retrieving and continuing on, creating an effective pace that sends your mind completely off this planet. Your eyes begin to close, fully letting go of your thoughts and focusing on the satisfaction Yoongi is giving you. 
‘’Y/N, look down.’’ Your eyes re-open, looking down, seeing Yoongi’s cock disappearing into your body. The sight itself makes you moan softly, your hand landing on Yoongi’s forearm, pressing as he picks up a quicker pace, hitting your g-spot in the process. 
‘’Shit!’’ Your grip tightens and Yoongi doesn’t stop. He keeps thrusting, small pants escaping his mouth. Yoongi swears for a minute he saw stars as he felt you convulse around his cock, signaling you were indeed already close. 
‘’Fuck, I’ve dreamt of this. Me being inside of you, being the reason behind your moans, ah fuck!’’ Your nails dig into his back, the overstimulation soon takes you over and your skin burns at Yoongi’s words. He’s dreamt of fucking you, of feeling you, showing you just how much he wants you. 
‘’You feel so fucking good Yoongs– mmm.’’ Your praise causes Yoongi to curse against your lips. His hair turns more wet as well as your bodies are almost burning hot against each other. Your breath hitches as your orgasm reaches, begging to be freed. Yoongi notices the way you’ve tightened around him, your body about to let go of the awaiting orgasm. ‘’Let go for me baby.’’ You pull Yoongi’s lips down to yours, kissing him tenderly as you climax. 
‘’That’s my girl.’’ He continues, himself about to reach his high and your legs wrap around his hips, pulling him much closer. ‘’Give me all of it, Yoongi.’’ You’re begging to get your walls painted by his cum. He tightens his grip on your hip, thrusting until his hips start to stutter and with a last stroke, he does as you asked, painting your walls nicely with his cum. 
‘’Wow.’’ You both grin afterwards not believing what just happened, being too caught in the act itself. ‘’Let’s shower, hmm?’’ You follow him to the bathroom, both of you now standing under the shower head, getting yourselves wet with the warm water landing on your skins. 
Yoongi takes his shampoo, pressing the almost finished bottle and grabbing your head, applying the shampoo in your hair. His fingers caress your scalp and you close your eyes enjoying the feeling. ‘’Thank you.’’ 
You might’ve thanked Yoongi too fast because he fills his mouth up with the warm water, spitting it on your face. You shriek out of response, pushing him away, completely disgusted by his behavior. ‘’What the fuck!’’ 
‘’What? I thought you were into that stuff?’’ He’s clearly joking with you and you only roll your eyes in response, washing your hair out yourself. So much for having a romantic moment after sex… 
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3 months later
‘’Relax, it’s just a barbecue with your family. You’ll be fine.’’ You look from outside the window of Yoongi’s car, your legs trembling over Marco’s sudden invitation to a barbecue. It was going to be the first family reunion with Min Yoongi as your actual boyfriend. Scary. You push through your fears, following Yoongi to the front door, your hand intertwined with his. So far your relationship with Yoongi has been a never ending ride of feeling happy and loved. Yoongi has visited your office multiple times with Namjoon, all of you grabbing lunch with Amanda and Hoseok as well. That’s where you finally introduced him as your boyfriend, for real this time. Not long after, Yoongi got invited on the set of Seokjin’s newest drama and Yoongi was a replication of a child at an amusement park for the very first time. 
‘’You came!’’ Marco cheerfully exclaimed as he opened the door, his other arm occupied by your niece, Sierra. You come up to her, giving her a peck on the forehead. ‘’Hi Marco.’’ You carefully hug him to not squish his daughter in between you. 
Yoongi walks by right after you, giving the mainstream bro hug. You finally get to the outside garden, everyone already gathered. You were only late because you were scared of seeing your mother after you haven’t talked to her since the wedding. Yoongi reminded you that just because she was your mother, does not mean she has a right to stay in your life if she’s affecting you this badly. You’ve grown up, basically without her, you can do that again. Which explains no contact since you started dating Yoongi. He was your family, along with Philip and Sam, Uncle Seokjin, Marco, Aunt Pamela and Amanda. They were your family. They made you feel so good about yourself, making you see every good quality of yourself. Those are the people you want in your life. Although, today you’re gonna have to face her. 
It’s funny, she expects you to talk and greet her but instead you walk straight to Marco’s wife, greeting her kindly and going around, Yoongi holding onto your pinky from behind, smiling at everyone. 
‘’Y/N.’’ Your mother calls and Yoongi sees you flinch, rubbing your hand for comfort to show you that no matter what happens, he’s here and many others are as well. 
You stand in front of her, holding onto your strong words. 
‘’Mom, listen, I–’’ 
‘’You haven’t contacted me since the wedding!’’ 
‘’Please, just listen to me for once.’’ Your tone makes her halt, shutting her mouth in surprise letting you speak freely, for once in your life. ‘’I am so tired of not being heard, I am your daughter. If you want to have me in your life, you’re gonna have to work on how to properly be there for me.’’ You look behind you, Yoongi nodding his head in approval of your words, being proud out of his mind. You finally stood against your mother and already, you feel so much better. 
Your mother lets out a puff, not answering which you don’t mind. You got to say what you needed to and can now enjoy the rest of the evening with none other than your boyfriend, Min Yoongi. 
‘’Oh! Y/N, you look happy.’’ Aunt Bridget comments, spotting the big smile easily. 
‘’I am very happy, indeed.’’ You look up to meet Yoongi’s eyes, the sparkle reminding you of the love he has for you. 
‘’I bet you are darling!’’ Aunt Bridget smirks, meaning something completely off-putting. 
You and Yoongi catch on, laughing in sync over Aunt Bridget’s attempt to make you uncomfortable. 
‘’Good one.’’ You wink at her, Yoongi and you continue to mingle, not a single worry in sight. You were finally at peace with yourself.
THE END
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taglist; if some of the tags don't work, i'm so sorry! :(
@bebejungkook @btsarmyakasammy @tea4sykes @sugarwithtea
@gimmethatagustd @vkookx @kyglover @zae007live
@bambamsgrande @sugainmybowl @bbsantc @wobblewobble822
@take-u-2-an0ther-w0r1d @jalexad @cowboylikevicky
@janeelizabeth1216 @armys-dna @pjiminbloom @kookiecrumb
@miss-jupiter @mwitsmejk <3
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thank you all for being so patient! feedback is always appreciated <3
© jjkeverlast 2022 [do not copy, translate or repost any of my works]
1K notes · View notes
sunnebeam · 8 months
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"i was hoping i wouldn't have to resort to this."
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A 'PERKS OF BEING A HOUSEHUSBAND' DRABBLE.
pairing: min yoongi x reader
plot: the (mis)adventures of retired gangster min yoongi as he leaves behind the life of the mafia and navigates the way of the househusband.
warnings: the way of the househusband au, marriage au, crack, domesticity, yoongi unintentionally scares people
masterlist + disclaimers.
note: go on tell me d-day!yoongi isn't tatsu I DARE YOU 😤 btw u don't need to watch the way of the househusband before reading this, but i swear u won't regret it if u do lol it's so funny (and it gives great visuals for this fic!). anyways, enjoy!! i'd love to hear ur thoughts so drop by my askbox and let's chat :)
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Water drips down his neck as he washes his face. Droplets fall down his tattooed back, tracing the meticulous lines and bold colors that contrast his pale skin.
After rinsing and drying off, he dons on his outfit for the day – a fitted, white, short-sleeved shirt that shows off the intricate tattoos on both his arms and some black sweatpants – and puts on his signature apron – a beige, cotton apron with a drawing of his brown poodle on the front. Said poodle is staring at him from the bathroom door as he takes one last look at the mirror.
An old, bumpy scar runs down his right eye.
"Perfect," he says to himself before heading to the kitchen with his dog following right behind.
Min Yoongi never used to wake up this early. But these days, he wakes up bright and early at six o'clock because he has an important assignment.
"What do you think, Holly? Too big?"
The poodle barks in response, and taking its opinion into consideration, Yoongi adjusts his gimbap slices accordingly, making them a tad bit smaller and just the perfect size for your lunchbox.
"Shit!"
The door to your shared bedroom opens and you run out, already dressed in your corporate attire. You run to the kitchen where your husband is and get a huge glass of water.
"I'm late!" you screech, all while gulping down the whole glass.
"But you still have a few hours," he points out in confusion.
"I forgot I have an early meeting!" you explain in a hurry, putting on your heels before giving your husband a big smooch on the lips and blowing Holly a kiss. "Sorry, Yoonie! I'll see you later!"
And you're out the door.
Yoongi blinks for a few moments before shaking his head. He's chuckling in amusement at your mishap, but if any outsider hears his laughter, it just sounds a bit manic.
"Well, looks like it's just you and me, Holly."
Holly barks.
"Huh? What was that?"
Holly barks.
Yoongi stares at the poodle, then at your Hello Kitty lunchbox he meticulously prepared, then back at the poodle.
"She forgot her lunchbox?"
Holly barks.
"Fuck."
Yoongi snaps into action, securing the lunchbox and putting it inside a Hello Kitty cloth bag before running out the door with his cute apron still on. He mounts his bicycle and speeds towards your office – which, if he was driving a car, would have broken numerous traffic regulations but luckily he isn't a stranger to breaking a law or two.
He's almost to your office. He's halfway there.
But unfortunately, there's a bit of a situation.
"What's your occupation, sir?"
The two police officers stare at him hesitantly after flagging him down for pedalling too fast with his bicycle. They're debating on giving him a ticket but then Yoongi answers.
"Househusband."
They stare at him.
"What?"
Yoongi sighs. At this rate, he won't be able to catch you before you clock in.
"Wait a second," one of the officers says, eyeing the tattoos peeking out from Yoongi's shirt and the big scar on his eye. "Are you..."
They stare at the name on the ticket. Min Yoongi.
"...Agust D?"
No way, the other officer thinks. There's a rumor about an infamous gangster called Agust D who used to slaughter his enemies with his own two hands. This guy can't be him. Right? Right?!
They hold a breath when Yoongi reaches into his pocket.
"I was hoping I wouldn't have to resort to this," he murmurs.
"Wait, sir. There's no need for violence—"
"Here," Yoongi shuts them up by thrusting one of his most precious possessions.
A gift card for discounts at the local grocery store.
The police officers stare at the gift card, bewildered.
"As much as it pains me to let go of this," Yoongi continues, "take it. Now, I have to go."
And he pedals away, leaving behind one gift card and two very confused cops.
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COPYRIGHT 2023. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.
2K notes · View notes
remedyx · 2 months
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Celestial Ruin
Pairing: Fallen Angel!Yoongi x Angel!(f)reader x Angel!Namjoon
Rating: 18+ | Dead Dove
Genre: Fantasy, Supernatural, Angels and Demons, Angst, Smut, Corruption
WC: 11.1k
Warnings/Tags: explicit sexual content; language, yandere!Yoongi, religious undertones, corruption, morally gray characters, coercion (?), unprotected sex, fingering, dacryphilia (implied), praise, light degradation, spanking in the form of punishment, creampie, multiple orgasms, lots of dirty talk, Yoongi is kind of mean, dub con (consent granted through questionable means)
Summary: Just being in his proximity made my skin crawl. As if his tainted wings were contagious and I was putting myself at risk just being near him. Yoongi was corruption incarnate. Once revered upon his throne and now cast aside for the sins he committed. Inky wings replacing the beautiful gold they used to be. The sign of the Fallen. And the way he looked at me said he wouldn't be sinking alone.
Dividers credited to @cafekitsune
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The hall was filled with bodies. No room to be had as more and more celestial beings packed within the high court for a glimpse of the sinner. Murmurs filtering through the room, most too quiet to hear exactly what was being said. But I was sure some were in disbelief, others mocking the immortal currently bound and on his knees in front of the judicial panel. The normally regal man reduced to this. His dark hair in disarray, strands of it hanging in his face, obscuring his features from onlookers. His honey-colored golden wings folded against his back, the tips of the them brushing the floor. 
It wasn’t as if you could fault anyone for gawking. Trials in the Heavens were uncommon as it were, trials for high-ranking angels? Unheard of. Especially ones of his caliber. He hardly moved from the spot the guards had forced him to. Didn’t utter a word as they dragged him inside to kneel before the group of angels who would decide his fate. I tore my gaze from him long enough to flick my eyes towards Namjoon. My direct superior. But also the petitioner for the trial at hand. 
I had worked under him long enough to read him. The clench of his jaw and hard set of his eyes betraying how he felt looking upon his comrade before him. I stood behind him at his seat. Ever the silent and respectful attendant despite how sick I felt watching what was happening. Namjoon leaned forward, the subtle shift in demeanor enough to silence the entirety of the room. His golden eyes burning as he looked down at the angel kneeling on the marble in front of him.
“Min Yoongi you are on trial for the cardinal sins of lust and envy. How do you plead?” 
The power behind Namjoon’s inquiry lingered. No one dared to make a sound or so much as breathe while they awaited the defendant’s answer. All eyes on Yoongi. Even my own. I watched with bated breath as he slowly raised his head. Black locks parting to reveal smooth, pale skin and the gold of his eyes. Matching Namjoon in color and vibrancy. A common trait among high powers. He met Namjoon’s glare head on, feline-like orbs flickering over his shoulder to me only momentarily before leveling an expressionless glower back to the head of proceedings. 
“Guilty.” 
I quickly turned my face to hide my surprise. The room erupted with gasps and murmurs once more. Even the jury seated at the panel with Namjoon were confused. Eyes looking between him and Yoongi as if they weren’t entirely sure how to prosecute. In all fairness with the defendant admitting to prosecution there was no purpose for them any longer. To the side of where Yoongi was sitting, one of his closest advisors stood shaking his head. Hoseok seemed disappointed more than surprised as he looked on at his friend in pity. The only one to seem unfazed by Yoongi’s confession being Namjoon who raised his hand in a bid for silence. Immediately, the room quietened again. 
“So you don’t even deny it.” 
“There’s no use in denying it. It’s the truth. I’ve committed the sins you’re accusing me of. The sooner I admit to them, the sooner I can be absolved of the torture being here continually inflicts upon me.” 
“You won’t even pretend to regret what you’ve done?” 
Yoongi’s lips pulled up at the corners. Eyes moving from Namjoon to me again. 
“Why should I when I don’t regret any of it?” 
I couldn’t look upon him anymore. My head dropping to the floor so I wouldn’t be made to look at the gold of his eyes. Namjoon’s hand came down on the wooden tabletop harshly. The loud noise made me jump while he rose from his chair. The heavy piece of furniture scraping across the floor as Namjoon’s fiery gaze seared into Yoongi. 
“Min Yoongi. You are hereby found guilty of the charges brought against you. You are to be stripped of your title as a Power of Authority and banished as a Fallen for the rest of your immortal life.” 
The sentence might have come as a greater shock than the confession itself. However, Yoongi hardly blinked. The tiniest narrowing of his eyes on Namjoon being the only outward indication of his displeasure. Hoseok’s shout of objection could barely be heard over the chatter of the nearby crowd. My disbelief cast a cloud over my mind. The guard nearest to Hoseok drew his weapon, poised in Hoseok’s direction threateningly when he attempted to move towards Yoongi. 
“Namjoon!” He snarled, realizing he wouldn’t be getting anywhere near the man still kneeling. “Banishment is absurd! He’s admitted his sins and-“ 
“And has expressed no inkling of regret. My decision stands. Get him out of here.” 
With one wave, the guards descended upon the chained man. I could do nothing but watch. Feeling utterly helpless in the situation at hand. Especially at the rank I stood. Yoongi’s gaze finding mine once more. A deep unsettling feeling creating a pit in my stomach as he never looked away from me. Part of me wondered why he kept looking at me. Maybe he expected me to be capable of changing Namjoon’s mind. But no one was ever able to change Namjoon’s mind. I may have been by his side, serving him for years, but even I was incapable of that. 
“Y/N.” 
The sound of my name jerked me into action. My rather dull blue eyes in comparison to the bright gold of Namjoon’s meeting the man himself. One tilt of his head telling me to follow him. I spared one last look towards Yoongi as he was dragged from the hall. Perturbed by the way he still watched me. He never wavered; my own orders forgotten as I fell into the depths of his pools of gold. Except, they didn’t remain that way. The color swirled, darkened, decayed. The once beautiful shade depicting him of his power and rank fading into blackness. So dark I could no longer see his pupils. A Fallen. 
Terror flooded my veins like ice. Chills coursing through me at the sight of someone so revered, so respected falling into ruin like so. But apparently, even someone like him wasn’t completely untouchable. 
And that sparked more fear in me than anything. 
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I stared down the dark corridor. The holding cells were always creepy. I hated when I was made to come down here, which wasn’t often, but I never went unless I was told to. Until today, that is. I hesitated in the doorway, casting another look over my shoulder to see if anyone was around. The last thing I needed was for someone to see me sneaking down here and report it to Namjoon. Especially after he had explicitly told me to leave it be after I tried to persuade him to rethink his decision for Yoongi.
“But sir, don’t you think banishment is-“
“Not enough.” Namjoon growled. “Yoongi knew better than to do what he did. And you heard him. He doesn’t regret it.”
“I heard him, but that doesn’t mean he shouldn’t be allowed time to refle-“
“He has nothing to do with you. We have too many other issues right now to worry about someone who has betrayed his oath and his savior.”
I sighed quietly. Seeking Yoongi out now meant I was disobeying an order. But I couldn’t shake my belief that he should at least be heard more than he had been at the trial. He admitted his guilt, yes, but was not given the opportunity to defend himself. If he had even wanted to. There was always the possibility that Namjoon was right. Yoongi very well could not care less whether someone listens to him or not considering he was not ashamed of what he had done. According to him at least. With a steadying breath, I scampered in. Taking care to shut the door behind me carefully.
It was dark down here. A considerable contrast from the pristine white marble and gold accents the rest of the main house of the Heavens held. As harsh as it seemed, the idea behind the lack of light and the silence within it was to rob its prisoners of any sense it could. Torture for those who would be made to stay here for days or weeks at a time. But for Yoongi, he wouldn’t be here long enough to withstand its effect. Namjoon intended to banish him to the mortal realm sooner rather than later.
Which is why I have to be quick.
I conjured a ball of light in my hands. Just bright enough to guide me down the steps and through the black halls. I didn’t know for certain where they had put him. But to my knowledge, he was the only one down here so surely it wouldn’t take me long to figure it out. My pulse pounded harder the longer I wandered. Every second I spent down here was another second I could potentially be discovered. Another second of Yoongi’s chance at redemption dwindling away. My footsteps sounded way too loud against the concrete under them. Half of me wanted to ditch my shoes just so they didn’t sound as if they were echoing off every wall I passed. Just as that urge was on the verge of winning out, I stopped, barely catching the shadowy figure hunched over himself against one of the back walls.
I held my breath, moving my light in his direction and breathing a sigh of relief when I recognized Yoongi’s dark hair and slim frame.
“Yoongi.” I whispered, tossing my light onto the nearby sconce on the wall next to his cell.
The lantern caught the light effortlessly and brightened the immediate vicinity. Casting a yellow-white glow onto me. Other than his feet laid straight out in front of him, the light wasn’t enough to penetrate further into his cell where he sat. He didn’t so much flinch at the sound of his name. His body remained limp, head ducked to where his hair hid most of his features. For a second, I wondered if he was sleeping. Or maybe had been knocked unconscious. I looked down at the lock even though I knew it was fruitless. Namjoon never left anything to chance. Especially when it concerned those in his custody. Still, I couldn’t help my hand from wrapping around the bars and testing them anyway. Disappointed with my feeble attempt, I turned back to the man inside.
“Commander-“
“You needn’t address me like that. I am no longer an Authority.”
I could vaguely make out his movements in the darkness. His head lifted, leaning back against the wall behind him as he sighed softly. I swallowed, dropping my gaze to the floor.
“That may be, but I still would like to call you as such.”
“Why are you here?”
I turned my head in the direction I had come from. Straining my ears for any sign of someone else but hearing nothing. My visibility was also compromised. The dark that shrouded this place swallowed the faint light I had produced everywhere except for where I stood. I turned back to Yoongi, not surprised to find he hadn’t moved from where he sat.
“I’ve come to hear your piece. Should you choose to repent-“
His dark chuckle cut me off. I bit my tongue to silence it. The way he sounded was mocking. As if he found it incredibly amusing that I had come here to attempt to help him make peace.
“You’ve come to help me seek salvation?” He spat, the sounds of his limbs dragging across the floor loud in the quietness as he hauled himself to his feet. “I didn’t ask to be saved.”
Worried that I had potentially offended him, I dropped my eyes once more. Even though he was technically no longer my superior. But old habits die hard. I wet my lips, voice trembling as I pressed on.
“Don’t forsake us Yoongi. You can still be redeem-“
“Look at me.”
I jolted at his command. My eyes lifted to obey despite how terrified I was to do so. He stepped forward, allowing the dim lighting to wash over him. I stifled my gasp of surprise. His eyes had lost the gold completely, nothing but black pools where the beautiful shade had been. He shook his wings out behind him, the gold pigment that should have been there as well darkening into an ugly bronze. The tips of them already blackened beyond recognition of their former glory.
“There’s no saving me even if I had wanted you to.”
“Don’t say that. Namjoon-“
“Don’t say his name.” The unadulterated ice in his voice froze my tongue. “I don’t want to hear about him. Especially not from you.”
“Okay.” I murmured, not wanting to upset him more than he was.
The tension set in his shoulders was one I wasn’t used to seeing in him. Yoongi had always been a calm and collected presence. Hardly anything ever got under his skin. To see him so ruffled was… unsettling to say the least. Especially when it concerned his comrade and my superior. Yoongi sighed, those eyes that sucked me into their black depths leveling on me.
“Why him?”
“I’m sorry?”
“Of all the beings you surround yourself with, why are you choosing him?”
“He’s my supe-“
“So am I.” Yoongi growled, his hands finding the bars between us.
He gripped them tightly, his knuckles turning white with the strength behind it. Behind him his feathers bled black. The once brilliant gold drowned under the spreading darkness as he fell deeper into his sin.
“You could have chosen me.”
“I don’t understand. I was assigned to him, I wasn’t given a choice-“
“I’m not talking about your assignment.” He rolled his eyes, his wings shaking loose behind him to lay relaxed at his sides. “Your feelings for him extend far beyond simple respect as a subordinate.”
I couldn’t hold his gaze. The desire to dispute the accusation was overwhelming. But… he wasn’t wrong.
“Don’t deny it. You shouldn’t add being a liar to your own list of sins.”
“Then I won’t. However, I know my place in his life and the hierarchy. I’m not one to delude myself into thinking there’s a possibility he would reciprocate my affections.”
Yoongi laughed dryly. Those dark eyes burning into me once more sending a lick of fear down my spine.
“Are you insinuating that I’m the delusional one? Ironic for you to be the one down here, seeking to save me when you’re the reason I’m in this mess in the first place. And lecturing me over my actions when you’re so close to committing them yourself.”
I shook my head vehemently. “You’re wrong. I would never-“
“I said the same thing once upon a time.” He exhaled slowly, black irises trailing down my face and body lazily. “And then I met you.”
My brows furrowed in confusion. I’d known Yoongi for years, we’d known each other since I had been assigned as Namjoon’s aide. Never once had he ever given any indication that my presence caused him inconvenience.
“Do you mean that I drove you to… sin?” I asked weakly.
“Oblivious aren’t you? Namjoon knew. Why do you think he personally sought to bring me to trial?” His eyes flashed dangerously, fingers reaching through the bars of his cell to me. “The master you so blindly serve isn’t as benevolent as you believe him to be.”
The words dripped with venom. I was struggling to come to terms with what he was telling me. I couldn’t believe I was the one who brought him to this point. But I also couldn’t entertain what he was trying to convince me of one of his closest brothers. Namjoon was the most honorable Authority I had ever met. It was a privilege to serve him. Any other angel would be ecstatic to have the position I was in. I was no different. Not once in my time assisting him did I ever think he wasn’t the respectable creature he portrayed himself to be.
No. Namjoon was pure. Yoongi was wrong about that. I was so lost in my internal deliberation that I hadn’t noticed Yoongi drawing closer. Fingertips brushing the contour of my jaw making me flinch back. He anticipated the move though, quickly grasping my face to drag me back to him, fingers digging into my cheeks harshly. I stumbled forward with his strong pull, nearly falling into the bars separating us. I watched, terrified, as the blackness in his wings continued to spread, those endless black pools of his eyes burning through me. A low groan left him, tongue swiping slowly across his bottom lip as he attempted to pull me a bit closer, his dark hair framing his beautiful features ultimately making him look more wicked than he ever had before. Every bit the Fallen he was turning into.
“I can’t help but visualize how bewitching you’d be if I were to stain you much like you’ve done to me.”
Fear ran through me. Spreading like wildfire as I tried to extricate myself from his grip.
“Would you let me angel?” The name fell condescendingly from his lips, the corners of them hiking in barely concealed amusement. “It’s only fair if I can corrupt you too. Watch those pretty wings of yours ooze black and show you there’s more in a life full of desecration. More fun. More freedom. More pleasure.”
He was weaving a spell over me. Every word sliding like silk, sweet like honey, temptation at its finest. The very call of seduction enticing me to violate divine law. I shook my head pathetically.
“No.”
If I were afraid he would retaliate, those fears were dashed away with the slow smile spreading across his face. The once endearing gummy smile now turned almost vicious. The faint light of my lantern flickered over his face. I hated how the word ethereal popped up to describe him, especially considering he was the furthest thing from it at this moment. But he was undeniably handsome.
“You will.” He promised, one finger lifting to run over my nose delicately.
All at once he released me. A sharp glare tossed to my right at the same moment I quickly backpedaled putting distance between us.
“Why are you here?”
The biting question in the last voice I had wanted to hear at this moment made me wince. I turned towards Namjoon, lowering my head in apology. I had been caught. After he had explicitly told me not to come down here, I had come anyway. Defying a direct order. Something I had never done in my time under him.
“Sir, I’m sorry. I thought-“
“I told you to stay away.”
I bit my tongue, hating that I was the one on the end of the ire I had seen so many others receive. Dropping my head, I bowed to him. Figuring it was best for me to remain quiet lest I spark his anger further. Out of the corners of my vision, Namjoon’s head whipped towards Yoongi. The latter of which couldn’t appear less affected if he had tried. He lazily leaned a shoulder into the cell door.
“Have you come to deliver me from heaven?” Yoongi looked rather pleased with himself.
“I’ve come to fetch my subordinate. And let me remind you to keep your hands and words to yourself.”
“Why? Are you worried she’ll realize the type of man you really are?”
Namjoon’s eyes narrowed, hardly sparing me a glance even while his hand clapped onto my shoulder.
“We’re leaving.” He told me, guiding me away from the cell and the man it contained.
Yoongi didn’t say a word. His eyes silently followed us until the darkness swallowed Namjoon and I entirely. Even my sad excuse for a light within the lantern near his prison snuffed out the moment we were far enough away. That all-encompassing blackness ridding me of all sense once again. Leaving me with nothing except to follow Namjoon’s guiding hand away from the Fallen I had tried to save.
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76 Years Later 
I grimaced at the neon sign lit an obnoxiously bright yellow above me. Of all the places, a cabaret. I sighed softly, quickly scanning the quiet streets around me. Not that I really expected to find many people. Earth had quickly fallen to ruin. Angels and humans now at war after the possibility of salvation had been smothered by the human race. Sinners far outweigh any pure souls left. It was the decision of the Heavens that humans be punished for their disregard of their faith. Ironically, that left the Fallen among them to dole out that punishment. For direct insult to humans by angels was still considered a crime.
But perhaps the war was useless. There were far more humans than Fallen. And it was not impossible to kill a Fallen. Humans had used that knowledge to their advantage. To make matters worse, the retaliation of humans didn’t seem to affect the Fallen all that much. After all, they were banished from the Heavens for committing many of the same sins humans engaged in. So not only were we disadvantaged with our direct involvement, but persuading the Fallen to act on our behalf was also detrimental to the Heaven's plans.
For the first time in history, we needed their help. And they knew it. Unfortunately for me, that meant I spent a lot of my time back and forth between realms in an attempt to convince the Fallen. Which if I were being honest, felt like a losing battle in and of itself. Save for the few Fallen who choose to accept my counter offer to reinstate their title in the Heavens after everything was said and done. But it still wasn’t enough. We didn’t have enough feet on the ground, let alone ones who were capable of leading a war that might very well be destined to fail to begin with. Or so I had thought.
The hall was blindingly bright white. Filled with bodies of Authorities and their closest advisors. The last time I had found myself in this hall was overseeing the trial of Min Yoongi. If I tried hard enough, I could still see him there, kneeling among the panel of judge and jury.
“We have to do something. Otherwise, they’ll continue to bring ruin upon their world as well as ours.”
“What do you expect? We can’t be involved. Our best chance is using the Fallen and I’m sure I’m not the only one who’s skeptical of them actually following through with anything we ask of them. Not to mention, none of them are even capable of organizing an attack against full armies.”
I sat quietly. Simply listening as the higher Authorities debated whether it would be beneficial to continue to fight the good fight or abandon the notion altogether. I stood behind Namjoon again. Carefully observing the unusually quiet man.
“Y/N.”
I flicked my eyes up towards the man who had called for me. Jin met my eyes calmly, another person who had been unusually quiet among the proceedings.
“Have any of the Fallen expressed desire to aid us?”
“A few, yes. When offered the opportunity to be given their titles back.”
He nodded. Looking back down at the table in front of him.
“You can’t possibly entertain the idea of letting them back in here. They’ve committed atrocious crimes once before, who’s to say they won’t do it again?”
The question had been directed at Namjoon. I nervously looked at him, not missing the way his golden gaze didn’t waver.
“If that happens then we handle it accordingly. As far as I’m concerned, we have no other option at our disposal. The Fallen are our best bet at taking control of the situation. And the promise of returning to their former glories is the only way of securing their compliance.”
Everyone around the room sighed. Not liking the statement, but knowing it was all we had.
“Okay, but that still doesn’t solve our issue of someone heading the insurgency.”
“Not entirely true.” Namjoon hummed, tapping a finger against the wood under his hand. “They have a former Authority among their ranks.”
I jerked as if I’d been slapped. My disbelief was obvious as I whipped my gaze back to Namjoon. I wasn’t the only one, whispers erupting across the room.
“Are you suggesting Min Yoongi?” Jimin finally spoke up when it became clear no one else would infer Namjoon’s proposition.
“Of course.”
Someone scoffed. “How can you even be sure he’d help us? He clearly showed no remorse during his trial and I would bet offering his rank back wouldn’t entice him. So how do you plan to enlist his assistance?”
Namjoon lifted his chin, sharp molten gold eyes leveled on the man.
“He’ll help.”
“But how can you be sure?” Another person spoke up, stressing the matter.
“I just am.” He stated coolly, leaning back in his seat. “Are there any objections to having him lead our armies?”
While the tension in the room remained thick, I knew no one would dare go against Namjoon’s rule. Even when in doubt, they appealed to his conjecture. One by one, the bodies in the room shook their heads.
“Good. Then, it’s settled. Y/N.”
I stood a bit straighter, moving forward a couple of steps.
“Yes, sir?”
“Find him.”
It was easier demanded of me than done. Yoongi was a hard person to find. Although I wasn’t sure whether I was surprised to find him in such a place of debauchery. One of the sins he had committed was lust after all. Already unsettled, I masked my wings. Making sure they wouldn’t be detected by the mass of humans I was sure I’d be walking in on. I bit my lip, reluctantly approaching the door and slipping my way in. It was loud. Hard to hear my own thoughts over the pounding bass provided by the speakers littering every corner of the joint. A thick haze filled the room. It was packed. Bodies on the floors, people draped over one another and watching the stages before them. Women and men alike dance provocatively in front of the multitude of strangers in various stages of undress. Some of the crowd even neglected the show in favor of indulging in each other.
I had to quickly avert my gaze from a young woman who kneeled in front of a seated man. His pants around his ankles. This was not a place I should be. I needed to find Yoongi. The sooner, the better. If I’d had it my way, I wouldn’t have even been the one to look for him in the first place. Our last interaction wasn’t one I liked to remember. In fact, I tried really hard to forget him altogether. But just like he had promised, a small part of him lingered. Like a stain I couldn’t erase. Trying to avoid the people around me the best I could, I wandered further into the establishment. Eyes only lingering on the people around me long enough to determine whether or not they were the man I was looking for.
Just as I was about to give up, frustrated that perhaps the information I had received was wrong and Yoongi wasn’t here, I found him. His hair no longer the black I remembered, but a shockingly fair shade of platinum blonde. It was also shorter. The long locks from memory now styled over his forehead, brushing the tops of his eyelashes and barely covering his ears. It felt almost odd to see him look so different physically. Although I hadn’t seen him in years since he was cast from his position in the Heavens, I didn’t really expect him to have changed all that much. Perhaps because he never did when I had seen him more often. Before things had taken a turn for the worse.
He sat in one of the many plush seats in the back of the room. Clearly marked for a particular type of clientele making me briefly wonder just how often he came here to be invited back here. The answer may have spoken for itself as one of the girls sashayed her way to him and helped herself to his lap. Yoongi hardly seemed fazed, wrapping an arm around her hips loosely while taking a slow drag of a cigarette between his lips. She curled around him shamelessly, leaning in to whisper in his ear even as Yoongi didn’t dare to take his eyes off the stage in front of him.
I couldn’t help but let my gaze wander to where he looked. Freezing upon seeing the woman on stage. She looked like…me. Her hair, her build, even in her facial structure and features, the similarities were there. The only notable difference being her eyes. Instead of the shade of blue demarking my title within the ranks of angels, hers were dark. The lust in them leveled heavily on Yoongi as she danced for him. I tore my eyes away, unable to continue watching the way the two of them stared at one another.
Shaking my head to ward off the strange settling in my bones that stumbling upon such a human who resembled me here, with him, was more than mere coincidence, I strengthened my resolve. Reminding myself that I was here on official business. A direct order from the Heavens themselves. I had hardly taken more than three steps in his direction before I was intercepted. The body blocking my way startled me enough to backpedal a foot or so. I looked up, part of me feeling a bit of relief recognizing Hoseok.
Yoongi’s right hand had taken his banishment the hardest and, as a result, had relinquished his own position within the ranks to follow his best friend. The gold of his eyes gone, signifying his fall of his own volition. A pity really. Not only did Namjoon’s decision cost us one of our Powers, but also several other leaders among our order.
“Hoseok…” I tried to smile, but even I could tell it was laced with melancholy.
I had developed somewhat of a close friendship with him before both of our lives changed. Having been Namjoon’s subordinate for years and dealing with Hoseok many times seeing as how he handled most of Yoongi’s communication back and forth, I found I actually enjoyed his company. He had always been kind and funny. Effortlessly brightening the day of anyone he associated with. It had been a hard pill to swallow finding out he had chosen to abandon his post in favor of Yoongi, but maybe not all that surprising.
“What are you doing here?” He didn’t bother with pleasantries, simply demanding my reason for being here.
I couldn’t deny I wasn’t a bit disappointed that this clearly wouldn’t be a time he would be as glad to see me as I was him. I let my smile drop, his tone forcing me to stand a bit taller under his scrutiny.
“I came to find Yoongi.”
“On orders from Namjoon?”
“Yes, but my inquiry is on behalf of all of us.”
He narrowed his eyes, searching mine for more information. I couldn’t lie. He knows that. But an underhanded trick that angels had been using for years was not disclosing all pertinent information when asked. Not that that was the case here, but I couldn’t fault Hoseok for being cautious. It had been part of his job in the Heavens after all.
“I’ll be damned.” The low voice wasn’t loud by any means, but somehow it could be heard clearly over the blaring music. “I expected Namjoon to keep you as far away from me as possible.”
I flicked my eyes just past Hoseok’s shoulder, the anxiety I always felt to some degree when knowing I’d be dealing with Yoongi resurfacing with his presence here now. A lazy smirk lifted one corner of his lips as he came closer.
“Then again, I suppose it’s not too hard to believe he’d send you to me just to rub it in my face.”
Ignoring his blatant stab at Namjoon, I concealed how it felt for me to be on the receiving end of his dark gaze again. Years. It had been years and yet, I still found it hard to meet those eyes head on.
“Yoongi, I’m here on official business that I’d like to discuss with you. In private if possible.”
He raised an eyebrow before slowly looking at Hoseok. Some sort of unspoken communication passed between them until Yoongi tilted his head towards the back of the venue.
“Follow me.”
He didn’t bother to look if I was actually following or not. I guess it didn’t matter. He probably knew me well enough at this point that I wouldn’t be leaving until I’d said my piece. Or at least until I had an answer for Namjoon. I expected Hoseok to tag along, but to my surprise he didn’t. He remained glued to the spot he had found me in, watching the two of us leave with a guarded expression. I tried to not let the idea of Yoongi and I being alone together in a room affect me too much. Somehow, even after all this time, he was just as intimidating as before. Perhaps even more so.
I stayed quiet while we passed through throngs of people, keeping my gaze trained on the back of Yoongi’s head just so I wouldn’t have to observe the people around us in their various circumstances. There was more conspicuous sin in this room than I have ever been exposed to in my entire existence. It was so thick settling in the atmosphere, coating my body like miasma and I promised myself a good bath when I got back to the Heavens. Yoongi wasn’t fazed at all. Passing a couple in the hallway engaged in sexual intercourse as if it were perfectly normal. Then again, for him, maybe it was.
I tried to remain impassive. Masking my horror of how they could be doing such a thing out in the open for anyone to see. And in fact, people were watching. Some even disregard the actual performers to watch them. A hard clearing of a throat ripped me from their forms. A deep blush coloring my cheeks when I realized I had been staring. Just like everyone else around me. I whipped my head towards Yoongi, feeling a tiny bit of shame come over me at the knowing smirk curling his lips. Those black eyes flickering towards the couple for half a second before landing on me again.
“Coming?” He lilted, hand pressed against a door, propping it open and gesturing for me to go in first.
Choosing not to answer, I scurried inside. Taking the opportunity to rid myself of the wickedness occurring outside of the room. Yoongi shut it behind me, flipping the deadbolt and silencing the sounds from the main area. The music was muffled, it could still be heard, and the bass still thrummed heavily, vibrating through the floor beneath me, but I could at least hear myself think. A flick of the light switch bathed the room in a soft, yellow-tinged glow. It was an office. Minimalistic at best with a couch on one side and a desk on the other riddled with papers.
“Speak freely. No one will bother us here.” He sighed, leaning against his desk.
He reached up, popping open a couple of buttons on his shirt before crossing his arms looking at me expectantly. Swallowing the anxiety in me, I moved towards the middle of the room, being mindful of keeping a bit of distance between us.
“I’ve been tasked with finding you on behalf of the Heavens.”
“Well, you found me.” His tone was oddly casual, not even bothered as he collected a glass and decanter from the corner of his desk.
He poured himself a glass of whiskey. Offering one to me which I declined.
“One glass won’t get you banished from the Heavens.” He snorted, bringing the alcohol to his lips.
“I don’t drink.” I mumbled, looking down trying to get myself back on track. “I’ve come to ask you-“
“I know why you’re here. I’ve been made aware of your efforts going around collecting the Fallen for your war.” He scoffed.
“Then I won’t have to explain myself further. I’m here to recruit you.”
He glared at me over his glass. Only lowering it when I refused to look away.
“Why me?”
“Well, Namjoon believes you’re our best bet in leading our armies.”
“The only one is more like it.” He mumbled under his breath. “Why would I do such a thing? I rather like the turn humankind has taken. Makes business good.”
My brows furrowed in confusion before it clicked. I glanced around the room.
“You own this place?”
“I’ve had years to figure out what I wanted to do here.”
Of course he had. And considering the reasons he was cast from the Heavens in the first place, I shouldn’t have been surprised. Humming noncommittally, I faced him again.
“We’re prepared to offer you your previous title of Authority should you choose to help us.”
He chuckled. The sound a bit ominous and serving to put me on edge.
“I already knew that.” He tossed back the last of his drink, licking his lips salaciously. “Your puppet master already paid me a visit.”
“Namjoon was here?”
Yoongi grunted his confirmation. This was news to me. Namjoon hardly ever left the Heavens except for special circumstances. I couldn’t imagine him leaving for Yoongi’s sake. Besides, if he had already found Yoongi, then why did he send me after him? I used to pride myself on the fact that Namjoon and I were almost always on the same wavelength. I understood what he wanted or what he was thinking without much difficulty. But I don't understand now. My confusion left me vulnerable. Lost to my thoughts so deeply that I didn’t notice Yoongi’s approach until he stood toe to toe with me.
“I didn’t accept his offer of giving me my title back.”
I stepped back, hoping to garner some distance from him.
“So, you won’t help us?”
Something dark lit his gaze. Tongue darting out to wet his bottom lip as he looked down at me.
“I didn’t say that. I simply told him that it wasn’t my title I was after.”
Something wasn’t right here. There were variables I wasn’t aware of. A conversation, a need, a want I wasn’t privy to. Namjoon had offered him his title, but he refused and bartered for something else. A piece he considered far more valuable to him than the honor he once held. I shook my head, bewildered.
“What did he offer you?”
Yoongi smiled sadly. The expression was out of place on him. He reached out to me, fingertips nearly caressing my cheek until I moved out of range. Some part of me realized the danger. My heart was beating faster even as I retreated, but I underestimated just how close I had been to the sofa behind me. The backs of my knees collided with the frame and dropped me into its cushions. Yoongi descended on me, lording over me in my vulnerable position and trapping me there with one hand on the cushion next to my head and the arm of the couch prohibiting my escape on the other side of me.
This time, I couldn’t evade his wandering touch. His smooth palm ran along the edge of my jaw until his fingers found my hair and buried themselves into it. He tugged, not enough to hurt, but enough to make me fully understand the situation I was in.
“My reason for being cast out in the first place.” His cadence was saturated with passion.
The sound of it making my stomach do flip flops within me.
It terrified me. How he spoke, the way he looked at me and made me feel.
“…Ironic for you to be the one down here, seeking to save me when you’re the reason I’m in this mess in the first place…”
I shot out of my seat, shoving Yoongi to the side simultaneously. He went willingly. Almost like he had expected such a visceral response from me.
“No.” I denied his claim, hating the way the panic within me clawed its way to the surface. “You’re lying.”
“In all the years you’ve known me angel, have I ever lied?”
I didn’t bother addressing the pet name. More preoccupied with the fact that he was accusing Namjoon of voluntarily trading in someone else’s life for the sake of a deal with a Fallen no less.
“Namjoon wouldn’t do that.” I spat, latching onto the anger. For it was better than crumbling before him.
“Oh, but he would. And I think you know that better than anyone.”
No. He was wrong. He had to be. I had known Namjoon for centuries. Served him as his closest advisor for years. Considered him a friend, a revered Authority, an honorable man.
I loved him.
And yet… the hardest part of it was that I did know. Yoongi was right. I probably knew him better than most people in his life. And if it came down to one angel for the sake of us all, he would choose to save us all. But it was me. Not some random angel neither of us were associated with. I had to mean more than just some means to an end of an upcoming war… right?
“What hurts more?” Yoongi sighed delightedly. “The knowledge that he’s not the man you thought he was, or knowing that he doesn’t care enough about you to fight for you?”
“I don’t believe you.”
Yoongi clicked his tongue. Staring at me as if he didn’t know what to do with me. A sharp knock against his office door caught both our attention. Yoongi seemed relatively unsurprised even as he walked towards it. He paused long enough to grab my arm, dragging me further across the room towards his desk.
“Let’s just ask him then shall we?”
I clumsily followed, trying to keep up with him until he shoved me to my knees and under the desk.
“Stay there and be quiet.”
I had half a mind to disobey, but before I could force my limbs to work, Yoongi had made it to the door, flipping the lock and opening it for his guests.
“Twice in a span of a week. I should feel honored.”
“Cut the bullshit.” The harsh sound of Namjoon’s voice had me freezing in place. “You sent your dog to hunt me down. I wouldn’t be here otherwise.”
I carefully and quietly maneuvered myself under the cramped space to peek underneath it. I really couldn’t see much other than their feet, but Namjoon’s voice was unmistakable. A third pair of shoes walked in, someone I didn’t know until he helped himself to the couch. Hoseok. Despite my hiding place, his eyes found mine easily, not shocked to see me there at all before looking back to where Namjoon and Yoongi stood.
“Right, well, there’s a few things I need to clarify.”
“You know damn well what we agreed on last time. You asked for Y/N, I gave her to you. There will be no more negotiating.”
My heart plummeted. He admitted it. Yoongi was telling the truth. Namjoon had given me away without a second thought. I covered my mouth to keep from making a sound. It felt like every piece of me had shattered. The time and effort I had dedicated to him was worthless with a singular admission. All Yoongi had to do was ask for me in exchange for his cooperation, and Namjoon agreed to it.
“I’m not looking to renegotiate. I only want your word that you won’t come back for her. You sent her to me. She’s mine. There will be no looking to get her back by you or any one of your ward.”
“You think I give a shit what happens to her? I kept her around while she was useful. This is my means of squeezing every bit of use out of her I can. I have no need for her anymore so long as you satisfy your end of the deal.”
Every bit of hope that maybe this wasn’t real. That this was just some awful dream I was being subject to disintegrated. I felt hollow. Useless. I carried no sentiment to Namjoon despite the time I spent by his side supporting him. My blossoming feelings one-sided, as I had never had the courage to tell him and beseech the court for their blessing in matrimony. And perhaps that was for the best. My cowardice having saved me from heartbreak. The only saving grace in knowing now being that at least I didn’t have to face him.
“My promises are good, Namjoon. Even having Fallen, you know this.” Yoongi’s voice came closer, rounding the edge of it before addressing Namjoon again. “Hoseok will show you out. This marks the end of our communications.”
I don’t know if Namjoon had anything else to say after that. I was swimming in static, lifeless and heartbroken. There was nothing left for me. I had no purpose anymore. Everything I knew, or thought I did, was gone. Yoongi crouched at the opening where I laid motionless. Not even able to summon the strength to fend him off as he wiped away my tears.
“Poor angel.” He cooed, grasping my chin to turn me towards him. “Believe me now?”
How could I not? He had delivered me the best possible proof he could have. So why was it I wished to desperately repudiate everything I had witnessed? Return to some semblance of the life I used to have. To ignorance. Yoongi pulling me out from my hiding place felt like I was watching myself from a third perspective. My body moving without resistance, every touch he bestowed upon me something I visualized rather than felt. He lifted me onto his desk, easily parting my thighs to slot himself between them.
“Pitiful angel.” He crooned again. “How could you possibly fall for someone like that? You were a little dumb for that sweet girl, but I won’t hold it against you.”
It was strange. His words weren’t kind, but his tone implied otherwise. Almost like I had made a mistake against him, but he was willing to forgive me for it.
“Don’t worry about it. I only wanted you to taste a bit of the suffering I felt at the hands of you. I’m not so mean to let you go through it alone even though I had to.”
“I- what?” My voice cracked; tone thick with tears I continued to shed until they were diligently wiped away by Yoongi.
“Did you ever consider how I felt watching you follow him around like a pathetic lovesick puppy? Of course you didn’t. You have always been a tad bit selfish, but I forgive you. I sinned for you, angel. That’s how dedicated I am to you.”
“No.” I murmured, pulling away from his hold. “I didn’t ask you to. I didn’t make you do that.”
“You didn’t have to ask me. All you needed to do was look at me and it drove me mad with lust. I fell into that trap because of you. And you were oblivious. Left me to suffer all alone and I was angry at you. Angry that I couldn’t have you and was forced to fuck women that reminded me of you.”
“Yoongi.” I whimpered. “That’s not my fault.”
He shushed me, cupping my face to guide me into him once again, tilting my face up to his. “It is angel, but I already told you I forgive you.”
He brushed several strands of my hair back. His touch impossibly gentle, like I was fragile and moments away from breaking. On the inside, I wanted to break. The hole in my chest ached unbearably. Every throb a knife pushing deeper. Reminding me that I have nothing to fall back on. I was cast aside and unwanted. I couldn’t meet Yoongi’s unwavering gaze. My eyes dropped down, focused on the expanse of collarbone and chest he had exposed earlier.
“Want me to make it better?”
I flicked my eyes back to his quickly. His question caught me off guard.
“Can you?” I asked breathlessly, desperate for something to take away this pain.
“Mmhmm. I would do anything for my girl.”
His girl. While I knew it wasn’t the case, I couldn’t help the palpations my heart responded in kind with. His girl. Yoongi’s girl. I wasn’t completely unwanted. Yoongi wasn’t throwing me out like Namjoon had. In fact, he was forgiving me. I had wronged him, and he was still willing to give me another chance. He wanted me.
“Make it go away.” I begged him, wanting to end my suffering. “Please make it go away.”
“Gladly.” He whispered provocatively.
Yoongi’s hold on me tightened, tilting my head back before melding his lips to mine hungrily. I gripped his arms, a surprised squeak leaving me at the sudden onslaught. His lips were soft, but the urgency behind them was feverish. It wasn’t an unpleasant experience, but I was out of my element. I had never so much as held a man’s hand, let alone kissed one. My inexperience didn’t seem to matter to him though, his lips coaxed mine into a fiery rhythm with his. And I didn’t stop him. Honestly, I didn’t really want to. I liked the sensations he roused from me.
The softness of his lips, the heat of his kiss, the slow drag of his tongue across my bottom lip enticing me to open for him. The closeness it brought with him.
Yoongi devoured me. Utterly consumed me to the point that I no longer could formulate reasons why this was wrong. Why I shouldn’t be doing this. Even Namjoon was no more than an insignificant fleeting desire I had once had. At least that’s what it felt like in Yoongi’s embrace. His hands took liberties to explore the rest of me. Any time he found bare skin it was like liquid fire scorching through my veins. The soft caresses he left behind leaving me wanting more. Unconsciously, my own hands mirrored his movements. Roaming his body as he did mine. He groaned against my lips, the sound sending a thrill through me that was unlike anything I’d experienced before.
All at once Yoongi’s hands left me, then his lips as he pulled away. No longer under the plunder of his mouth, I was reminded that air was something I needed. My body took heavy drags of it while the man in front of me tore at the buttons on his shirt. The moment of reprieve brought with it some clarity. Especially as Yoongi continued to undress himself. The couple from the hallway flashed through my head. Is this what they felt? Was this how it always is when someone wants you? How could something that feels this good be wrong?
A sharp tug at my waist startled me. I looked down to find Yoongi taking it upon himself to undress me now. Some part of me vaguely knew what was about to happen.
“I can’t help but visualize how bewitching you’d be if I were to stain you much like you’ve done to me.”
If I did this, there would be no going back. I’d be as dirty as he was, tainted with the sin that would surely cast me from the Heavens indefinitely. Even though I had been more or less sold, I was still pure. I hadn’t committed any wrongdoing that would prevent me from appealing Namjoon’s decision and going back. I had a chance to become what I once was. But not if Yoongi got his hands on me.
“Would you let me angel?” The name fell condescendingly from his lips, the corners of them hiking in barely concealed amusement. “It’s only fair if I can corrupt you too. Watch those pretty wings of yours ooze black and show you there’s more in a life full of desecration…”
Would I let him? Was I really going to let this happen? My life in the Heavens was all I knew. I was good. I never let myself fall into the tempting trap that I had seen so many other angels succumb to in my existence. The same one I had watched Yoongi fall under. My shirt went next, his hands deftly pulling it over my head leaving me feeling more exposed than ever. The cool air of his office made me shiver and washed away part of the spell I was under.
“Yoongi.” I called him, intending on backing out.
I couldn’t do this. I can stop this here and go back to Namjoon. Beg for reinstatement. Promise him I’d work harder to find someone else willing to wage this war on Earth. As if sensing my intentions, Yoongi grabbed my arms. He pulled me off his desk to my feet, spinning me around, my back pressed to his chest.
“You should have never belonged to him in the first place.”
His mouth attached to my neck. Leaving love bites behind as he trailed his way closer to my ear.
“Never belonged beneath him.” He murmured huskily, cupping my chin and tilting my head back against his shoulder.
His other hand snaked around my hip, fingers easily finding my most private of places. I gasped feeling his fingers spread me open for him. That haze of pleasure I had felt earlier increased exponentially as his skillful touch folded me under his desire.
“I would have married you, you know. If you hadn’t been so fucking infatuated with what was so bad for you.” He dipped a bit lower, sinking one finger into me leaving me on the verge of collapsing. “He didn’t deserve you angel. You were always meant to be here. Two seconds away from cumming all over my fingers.”
I didn’t understand what he was telling me. It was hard to focus on anything other than the tightening knot in my belly with every pump of his hand. I gripped his arm, unsure whether I wanted to urge him on, or beg him to stop. A desperate sob escaped me when he slipped a second finger in. The hand on my chin twisted my head towards him, his mouth easily finding mine and swallowing any sounds I couldn’t keep from coming out. Every bit of him was overwhelming. His fingers, his lips, his words. He was ruining me. Exactly how he promised to.
“Give it to me and I’ll make sure everyone kneels at your feet.”
Yoongi’s name filled the room on a cry, my body trembling as he drove me towards that end. I tried to hold on. But I was a fine-tuned instrument that he was expertly playing. Unraveling me even when I tried to resist it. I crashed. Hard. Breaking over his hand that never stopped, guiding me through it and coaxing every last bit of it from my body. I fell into the desk as my legs turned to jelly. Yoongi chuckled behind me. I managed to turn my head to look at him, my core clenching around nothing as he licked the very same fingers he’d had in me.
My breath left me all at once. It occurred to me that his words may be truer than I would have thought possible. This was how it was meant to turn out. I was supposed to crumble under the blackness that was Yoongi. He was corruption incarnated. Otherworldly beautiful with porcelain skin and red-tinted lips swollen from kisses. Black eyes filled with lust as he looked down at me. Those wicked fingers running up my bare back to latch onto the back of my neck. Pink tongue trailing behind it coupled with the soft brush of his snowy hair. Created to be my downfall.
“Say the word, angel, and I’ll show you everything you’ve been missing. Everything you deserve.”
I was powerless. My will disintegrating. Caught between what I knew I should do and what I wanted. But only one of them was sure. Only one of them that I knew would end how I expected it to. Only one choice that I could fall into knowing for certain someone would catch me. I closed my eyes, relinquishing myself to my fate.
“Yes.” I whispered. “Yoongi, I’m yours.”
I didn’t have to see him to visualize the wicked, triumphant grin that split his features. I had ceded. He kicked my legs apart a bit wider, whispering unintelligible praises against my skin with kisses between every word. He sought my opening again, my center thoroughly soaked for his entry. He shushed my whines, slipping his fingers in to stretch me. The deeper he pushed in, the greater the discomfort. I had never bothered touching myself down there in fear it would lead to wicked thoughts and desires. Yoongi’s strokes were foreign to me, new sensations, but not entirely unpleasant. It eased the ache I had for more just a little. That lingering emptiness momentarily filled. Steadily, he rebuilt my arousal. Nudging a spot deep inside me that shot bits of jolting pleasure through me leaving me a panting mess as he moved faster. My toes curled into the hard floor beneath them, hands grasping at anything I could to anchor myself while Yoongi propelled me into another typhoon of ecstasy. And then he stopped. A rush of air left me, my form sucking in lungfuls of it while I could, body vibrating as it tried to rebound from how close I had been.
Yoongi’s hold on the back of my neck tightened, and with quick precision, he pressed the head of his cock into me. The burn wasn’t something I expected, a loud gasp leaving me at the same time I jerked forward trying to escape him. Yoongi held on, his other hand landing on the small of my back, pressing me harder into the desk to trap me there, low groans leaving him as he sank in just a little further. I choked on my cries while he split me open. Impaling me on his rigid cock and demanding I take more of it even when I struggled to do so. He felt endless. What was probably only seconds turning to hours until his hips met the curve of my ass. If I thought his fingers were a lot, it was nothing compared to how full I was now. I shifted uneasily, hoping to find an angle where he wasn’t so unbelievably immense.
“Settle angel.” He hissed, hindering my motions. “You’re taking me so well.”
I mewled. It didn’t seem like I was taking him well. I felt like I was about to burst apart. But moving didn’t make anything easier, it only made me more aware of his presence inside me. Yoongi was incredibly patient, refusing to move a single muscle until I eventually relaxed into the desk under me. I hadn’t adjusted to him fully, rather my body became accustomed to his intrusion to a degree. Giving into him enough that it wasn’t so overbearing having his cock stuffed so far within my walls.
“Good girl.” He praised me, loosening his grip on me.
His hips retreated, my cunt fluttering around him before he thrust in again. My breath caught, mouth falling open in silent moans as he did it again. He fed me every inch of him, pace picking up gradually to the point every meeting of his pelvis to my ass rang out through the quiet room. Outside, the music still blared, bass pumping, but Yoongi was louder. Fucking me in time with the song beyond his office doors. I mewled under him, quickly finding myself racing towards another release. He abandoned the grip on my neck in favor of my hips, the strength with which he held onto me bruising, guiding my hips back into his, bouncing me on his cock as much as he was fucking me with it.
I stuttered out his name, drowning in the waves of intense pleasure. This was heaven. There was no doubt about it. Whoever deemed such bliss as sinful was wrong. They had to be. For I had never felt anything close to the way I did in this moment, letting Yoongi ruin me atop his desk. Sealing my fate as a sinner and traitor to the Heavens I once served. A hand hooked around my leg, draping it over Yoongi’s forearm before he pushed it forward, his palm lying flat on top of the desk, spreading me wider and keeping me there. The new position allowed him in deeper, the snap of his hips getting harsher, pounding my poor flesh without remorse.
But the euphoria it brought me dulled any potential discomfort. He wasn’t being gentle, he sought to punish me now. For what exactly? I didn’t care. Until a firm hand came down over the sensitive flesh of my ass. I yelped, making to cover myself as he raised his hand again only to have them forcefully shoved away.
“Keep your hands flat on the desk.”
I whimpered, not really wanting to obey. Especially as I watched his hand lift again helplessly. It came down harder than it did before, a pained exclamation following shortly after as tears filled my vision.
“Even angels need punishments, right darling? I’d say you needed one. Ignoring me, pining after another man. Damning me. You’ve been a busy girl.”
I squirmed to get away from the next one, but Yoongi had me effectively pinned. My plea turned to a shout as he hit me again, this one landing on my thigh.
“But you said you forgive me!” I sobbed.
“I do angel.” He crooned, now soothing the heat he left behind. “But I still have to be sure you know better than to do it again.”
“I won’t!” I wailed, watching his hand come up again. “I’m sorry! I’ll be good.”
He halted all movements, raised hand shooting forward to grab my jaw, wrenching my head back to look at him. I winced, tears covering my cheeks after I blinked them away. Yoongi’s jaw was clenched, icy black pools burning through me. Looking every bit the Fallen he was.
“I don’t take kindly to someone lying to me. You’re here, looking so beautifully fucked up because of me, with my cock in you. There’s no saving you now. There will be no leaving, no begging for Namjoon or the Heavens to take you back. You’re mine. And one of us will have to die before I let you go. Understood?”
I nodded pathetically, choking when Yoongi delivered another violent thrust.
“Words, Y/N. I need to fucking hear it, or this doesn’t end. I’ll decorate your flesh with my handprints.”
“Yes! Yes, I promise. I understand.”
As if a flip had switched, all the harshness was gone. Yoongi’s bruising hold melting into a gentle caress.
“I knew you would.” He purred, placing a tender kiss on the back of my shoulder, words turning into groans as he fed me his cock again. “You’ve always been so good when it came to following orders.”
Breathless moans carried throughout the room, my brain barely recognizing it as my own. Yoongi leaned into his hand on the tabletop, his other grabbing ahold of my folded thigh, pulling me back onto his cock again as his head dropped with a quiet curse.
“So good.” He moaned. “Making a mess of me just like I imagined you would.”
He resumed his punishing pace. Releasing any remaining pent-up anger on me while singing praises of how well I took his cock and how beautiful I looked swallowing every inch of him.
“Pussy’s worth it.” He chuckled darkly, releasing me to gather my slick that clung to the base of his cock before sliding his fingers through my folds in search of my clit. “I spent years thinking about this angel. Imagined fucking you like this no less than a thousand times. Want to know what I really wanted though?”
I couldn’t answer him, my mind a foggy, jumbled up wreck incapable of anything more than useless noises.
“I wanted you, like this, fucked stupid and begging for me to defile you further only to send you back to Namjoon a fucked up mess and full of my cum.” His fingers swirled over my clit mercilessly. “But I’ll settle for my being the only one knowing how filled your tight little pussy is.”
I shattered. My world fracturing into tiny pieces as I came all over his cock. The sheer magnitude of this orgasm rendering the previous one insignificant in comparison. I cried out, most of it incomprehensible except for when it ended with Yoongi’s name on repeat like a divine prayer. The lewd squelching of where we remained connected rising in pitch as Yoongi pursued his own release. Breath leaving him on a fervid exhale when he found it, melding his hips to mine, shoving me into the edge of the desk as he spilled inside me. I could feel his length twitching within my snug walls, spurt after copious spurt of his seed overflowing around his buried cock.
I could feel it seeping around him, dribbling down my folds. A testament to how sullied I was both outside and in. I had betrayed everything I once stood for. A moment of weakness condemning me to the life I had sworn I would never fall into the temptation of. It was done. I couldn’t go back anymore if I had wanted to. I irrevocably belonged to Yoongi now. I laid there, mourning the loss of what I used to be, not even flinching as Yoongi pulled out of me. He pulled me off his desk, the soreness between my legs finally bringing me to the present enough to realize he was leading me across the room towards the couch. 
His white hair plastered against his sweaty forehead, dark eyes looking down at me sadistically. A light sheen of sweat coated him, the air hitting my own nakedness cool in temperature, verifying that I was covered in a thin layer of perspiration too. That and my tears. Yoongi wiped them away, calmly. The sheer ethereal nature that he embodied contradicting the act we committed. Beautifully tainted. That was Yoongi. He cupped my cheek, laying an unbelievably affectionate kiss against my lips.
“I have years to make up for angel. Don’t believe you’ll be leaving any time soon.”
Taglist: @aft3rhrs @elliegrace1999tvd @urlovelily @atinymonbebestay @kiki-zb @shyminmin
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sailoryooons · 7 months
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Angel | myg (m)
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☾ Pairing: Mafia!Yoongi x Sex worker! F. reader
☾ Summary: Yoongi never meant to keep coming back. You never meant to become Yoongi’s favorite. Being Min Yoongi’s favorite has dire consequences. 
☾ Word Count: 15,551
☾ Genre: Semi-established relationship, mafia, smut, surprising amount of fluff
☾ Rating: 18+ Minors are strictly prohibited from engaging and reading this content. It contains explicit content and any minors discovered reading or engaging with this work will be blocked immediately. 
☾ Warnings: Sex work and mentions of sex work, Yoongi and the reader are very confident in their relationship but also don’t want to ask for more, uses of the word whore negatively in some parts, vague references to dismemberment in an offhand conversation, intense action sequences, depictions of violence, reader is smacked around and kidnapped, depictions of injuries and pain, two sequences of detailed anxiety attacks, graphic depictions of blood, violent scene in which reader fights for her life and gores someone, depictions of murder/panicking while committing murder? Idk how to describe that one, mentions of nightmares/light reference to PTSD post-murder, explicit language, explicit sexual content including oral (m. and f. receiving) light throat fucking, nipple play, ass play (f. receiving), unprotected vaginal sex, Yoongi… almost doing a strip tease but it’s not as goofy as that it’s more sensual?? Yoongi is a little bit possessive at the end. 
☾ Published: September 3, 2023
☾ A/N: You voted for it, you got it! Introducing the fic that came out on top for the Hali’s Happy Agust Bracket Challenge! Thank you to everyone who voted during the entire month of August, I had such an amazing time seeing everyone yelling and voting and sharing and having fun with it. It means the world to me that you guys have fun and enjoy doing these kinds of things! Here is mafia Yoongi in all of his glory - I did try to keep it tame with the murder/violence/criminal side of it because there are things in this genre I’d like to table in later (most likely on Hali’s After Dark) but I hope that you enjoy this! Somehow it really turned into two people who are just !!! eternally confident in one another, despite their strange trades. Shout out to the hurricane and covid for FAILING TO STOP ME FROM WRITING THIS I’M A GOD (not really I am very tired but I did it osifjdoigj). This is mostly edited.
☾ Disclaimer: All members of BTS are faces and name claims for this story. This is entirely a work of fiction and by no means is meant to be a projection, judgment or representation of real-life people. Any scenarios or representations of the people and places mentioned in works are not representative of real-life scenarios.
Masterlist | Ask | Angel Playlist
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Yoongi would rather be anywhere else but the low lit, smoky club. The production team on the dancefloor below uses way too much cryogenic smoke for Yoongi’s taste, fogging the dancing bodies with thick clouds, the lasers reflecting off the smoke in dizzying patterns. From the VIP section, he isn’t choked by the haze, but he is choking on the cloying perfume of the woman in his lap.
She’s pretty enough, one of Kwan’s finest. No doubt trained from a very young age to please her employer’s most prestigious guests. Yoongi doesn’t touch her though, save for letting her sit on his lap, her hand cradling the back of his neck. She leans into his chest, her breath close to his ear as he watches Kwan consider Yoongi’s deal.
Yoongi doesn’t have to make the deal at all. Offering to become a minority owner of the club is a mercy, really. Yoongi could go after the investors who fronted the money when Kwan opened his business in the middle of the entertainment district, and he could wipe out the petty criminals pushing drugs in shadowy alcoves near the bathroom, damaging the cut that Kwan takes from them at the end of each night. 
Yoongi could even go as far as to sow chaos every night, sending in his followers to pick fights with the elite clientele, make it a nightmare for the celebrity clients and cities government officials who use the back rooms for more nefarious matters, exposing the underbelly of La Vie if he felt like it. 
Investments, Hoseok always insists. Investments, not enemies. They already hate that you’re taking a chunk of what they built - especially the seaside property.  Let’s try to play nice and show face. 
Forcing hands is exactly how Yoongi got to this position, sitting in a club and offering Kwan a rather generous deal: Kwan retains eighty percent of ownership, Yoongi becomes a twenty percent owner, the only person allowed to supply the club’s drugs, is paid for security services, and has access to the information funneled through those that work the private client rooms. He could just take it like he always has, and he still has half a mind to do. 
Men like Kwan who think they’re savvy in business and the nuances of the criminal enterprises that run the city make Yoongi’s lip curl. 
“These terms are bullshit, and I don’t have control of the back rooms.” Kwan looks up from the contract, glasses sliding down his nose. He’s a little bit older than Yoongi, and good looking. He has a traditionally handsome face that idols and actors like to get moderated to look like. He looks like new money though, with designer pieces that don’t quite match and a Patek watch that is flashy, but not coveted. “While it is under my jurisdiction, it is a handshake deal with Anya that she runs them the way she wants. They are her clients, not mine.” 
“Then Anya will have a handshake deal with me.” Kwan’s face darkens. Yoongi is tired of this. Is tired of the feeling of the girl’s hand stroking the hair at the base of his neck, is tired of the way she presses up against him, and is tired of Kwan’s dawdling.
“Take the weekend to think about it,” Yoongi insists and stands. The girl falls off him, letting out a surprised sound as she hits the booth. Yoongi adjusts his suit and frowns when he sees there is body glitter on it. He casts a harsh look at the girl who stares up at him with big eyes before turning back to Kwan. “There are no terms for negotiating. Thank you for the drinks and the entertainment. You’ll hear from me.”
Kwan’s face is red like the neon of Yoongi’s favorite motel when he walks out of the booth. Synth and base rattle the metal catwalk that makes up the VIP section, overlooking the dancefloor. Seokjin slides into step with Yoongi as he goes, an imposing shadow as they circumnavigate the walkway. 
It’s loud and raucous when they get to the dance floor. Members of the security team watch Yoongi as he goes, their eyes alert. He pays them little attention, just like the gazes of the people dancing in the ground when they catch sight of him.
Sometimes, Yoongi feels a little bit like a myth in moments like this. Out in public, Yoongi is an astutely dressed man who speaks quietly and says very few words. He wears nice but not gaudy jewelry, and he always styles his long hair slicked back, showing off the faded, red scar over his eye. What Yoongi lacks in height, he makes up for in omnipresent stares and quick reactions.
Everyone in the city knows exactly who Min Yoongi is, and they know that he doesn’t make threats. He simply acts. 
Outside, rain falls from the inky sky. Hoseok leans against the brick wall under the awning, clove-tinged smoke drifting from the cigarette jammed between his lips. When he sees Yoongi, Hoseok pushes off the wall and adjusts his suit jacket. Where Seokjin looks tall, dark and imposing, Hoseok is wiry and sharp, dressed in all white, looking pristine as he raises his eyebrows at Yoongi in question. Yoongi nods towards the idling SUV as an answer. 
They don’t bother with an umbrella. Yoongi ducks his head down as he quickly walks across the pavement and into the car. The interior is moderately cool in the SUV. He takes a seat in the middle, Seokjin sitting alone in the row behind him and Hoseok to his right. 
Outside of the rainy window, the world turns into a smear of wet neon. Checking his watch, Yoongi notes that it’s just past midnight. If he hurries, he can stop by the Red before he goes home for the evening. If he goes home for the evening, at that point. The thought of sinking into sheets that smell like almond and cinnamon ease him. 
“So?” Hoseok flicks through his phone, face lit up blue by the screen. He looks hauntingly beautiful, all edges and sharp lines. “Deal or no deal?”
“Giving him the weekend to think about it.” Hoseok sighs. “He thinks it’s a bad deal for him because it it is, and he’s stuck on the operation Anya runs in the back rooms. He doesn’t want to lose that connection to her. She feeds him information for his extortion of city officials.”
“How else would he have cleared that permit near the docks to build,” Seokjin mutters. Yoongi casts a glance into the back seat where Seokjin sullenly stares out of the window. “Fucker is sticking his nose in a district he has no rights to. At least we had the means to get that operation cancelled.” 
“Yeah, and it’s part of why he doesn’t want to deal with us,” Hoseok says. “Even so, offering the deal is the right move. If he doesn’t take it, crush him like a fucking bug. He’s an intelligent businessman, it’s no surprise that he’s going to try and find a way around you. He might sniff around or try and fuck up some assets.”
“Hobi, you better fucking hope he doesn’t go to that fucker Seo.”
“He doesn’t have the balls. Seo Changbin is unhinged and volatile. He’s more likely to send Kwan to his family in chainsawed pieces.” 
Yoongi grunts, amused. “Bang has kept him under control as of late. Seokjin, have Jungkook look into getting some people in there. I’m not interested in them linking up as permanent partners.” 
A headache presses against Yoongi’s temples. He doesn’t care to debate politics and machinations with Hoseok and Seokjin. He closes his eyes and rests his head against the headrest, letting their discussion fall to a dull sound. 
Yoongi feels like he’s bleeding at the edges, the color of him spilling out of neat lines and all over the pages. His empire is growing faster than he can keep up with, he’s playing politics more than he’s playing the savvy gangster, and the more capital he gains, the more of himself he loses.
When Yoongi had started to climb the ladder of crime and chaos, he didn’t know where it would lead him. An early grave, perhaps. But Yoongi has always been smart and knows how to pick his battles, knows how to innovate. He is not the most inspiring man to lead people in the underbelly of the city, but he does know what he’s talking about and he’s good at guessing what people want most.
People, he’s discovered, all want the same thing, whether they’re at the bottom rung or the top. 
The boy he once was wouldn’t recognize him. The new Yoongi wears designer suits, the carefully curated art collections in the opulent halls of his home, the shaking hands with political figures to help install certain assurances within the city. There are more officials that line Yoongi’s pocket than there are gangs in the city, but it’s a weapon he wields well. 
Old Yoongi might not be so impressed. 
Yoongi feels the phantom ache of the scar on his eye. It doesn’t matter what old Yoongi wants, though. This new version of him is doing whatever he needs to live another day and to install another brick in his kingdom. 
The driver drops Yoongi off at home. Tall gates with security cameras and guard house at the entrance keeps almost everyone away from the Min estate. There’s been a few idiots here or there who have climbed the walls and met the three lovely dobermans that roam the property freely. 
Erebus catches Yoongi’s eyes as he walks to the large garage. The eldest of Yoongi’s canines sits and watches Yoongi approach with keen, dark eyes. He grins at the dog, whistling lowly. Erebus stands and joins Yoongi on his way to the side door, jamming in a code to the garage.
Inside, the automatic lights flip on. Yoongi squints from the harsh lighting, closing the door behind him. Rows of vehicles gleam under the fluorescents. Sports cars, old collectibles, sturdy SUVs. Yoongi has an armada at his disposal, though he so rarely drives himself anywhere these days. Not after Seo put a hit on him a few months ago, the insane fuck. 
Yoongi pulls the tie loose from his neck and begins to change. He presses his finger on a thumb-print lock to a wardrobe and pops it open. Inside are casual clothes: jeans, a t-shirt, a riding jacket, boots and a gleaming black helmet. Nondescript clothes that can belong to anyone. 
Every movement feels heavy. He should go upstairs and swallow down something to help him knockout, but he doesn’t. Instead, he finishes going through the motions and tosses the worn clothes in the wardrobe and walks over to the parked H2R in, all sleek, black metal. 
Erebus sniffs Yoongi’s knee once, a sort of send off. Yoongi bends down and kisses the doberman on the head before shooing him, sending the dog through the garage and up the stairs that lead to the main house. 
Instead of starting the bike in the garage and peeling out the front of the home, Yoongi pops the kickstand up and walks it out of the side door, careful not to bang the tailpipe on the door or scrape the shiny black paint. Once outside, he walks it through the entire yard, arms aching a little as he keeps the bike balanced. 
Gravel crunches beneath his boots and the tires of the motorcycle. Crickets chirp in the yard until he makes it to the back gate in his home that opens up to a government only street. Being back-to-back with the minister has its perks, like an extra security measure that he doesn’t have to monitor constantly. 
Swinging his leg over the bike, Yoongi slides the helmet on, turns the key, and presses the on switch. It roars to life, vibrating underneath him. He revs it a few times before he pulls back on the throttle and shoots down the street like a bullet from a gun.
Iron gates, walls and security houses blur past him. He lives among the gods of the city, high up over the glittering lights and those who pay pilgrimage to the political, criminal and tech giants who loom over them. Yoongi was one of them not that long ago, rising faster than he could have thought possible.
Still, he descends often. Nightly, even. Like even the most powerful gods, Yoongi’s weakness is a vice he can’t - doesn’t want to - rid himself from. While he doesn’t think of himself as impervious, Yoongi doesn’t have many weaknesses. 
His biggest one, though, spends most days at the Red with a private suite in the luxury pleasure house disguised as a motel. 
Yoongi parks his bike in a secured garage that he has a paid spot in. The payment for it is discrete and in all cash, one of Yoongi’s several attempts at covering his tracks when he visits.
The garage is still a few blocks away from the Red. He tucks his hands into his pocket, enjoying the balmy evening, rain still clinging to the air though not falling now. This late at night, there aren’t many people out. Cars drive by, tires hissing on the wet road. Neon lights burn above fluorescent-lit windows of small food shops. 
At the end of a dead end street, a red motel sign buzzes against the night sky. The non-descript brick building doesn’t look like much, but Yoongi knows better than most. Instead of approaching the front door, he leans against the wall a few shops down, tucked underneath the shadow of an awning. 
Pulling his phone out, he dials and brings it up to his ear. As the phone rings, he looks up at the four-story building. There are windows with dark curtains pulled shut and never opened. Yoongi knows that the glass looks ordinary, but is bullet proof grade to protect the most private of clients. 
It doesn’t look like much. The brick is old, it’s bracketed by a laundromat and a hardware store, and across the street is a noodle shop and boarded up general store. 
“It’s late,” you answer, voice scratchy. Yoongi nearly shivers at the sound of your voice, eyes fluttering shut as he breathes in the rain-tinged night. “What’s a girl to do when a boy calls her this late, hmm?”
“Let said boy upstairs and out of the rain.”
“Hmm.” You don’t say yes, but Yoongi can hear the rustle of sheets and the soft creak of the bed when you get up. He waits in silence, though he imagines you’re walking across the bedroom to head to the main part of the state room. “It’s not even raining anymore, I bet.”
“It is. I’m soaked to the bone. Freezing. I might catch a cold.”
“Whatever shall we do?”
He grins, ducking his head. He can feel the warmth climb up his neck to his face, shaking his head. Only you can get him like this, heart skipping like he’s in grade school making out with someone behind the bleachers for the first time. 
“Come on,” you tease on the other line. “Your door will be open.”
“Thanks, Angel.”
“Mhmm.”
His door isn’t really his. But it is a private access door in the back of the alley that requires a keycard and has an armed guard sitting in a security room next to the entry way on the inside. Yoongi hangs up the phone and heads to the special door, avoiding the puddles dripping from fire escapes. 
Just as Yoongi reaches the heavy door, he hears the beep of the auto-lock and it swings open with you leaning on the frame. He wants to eat you whole. You’re not in work clothes, meaning you either wrapped up a while ago or didn’t work tonight. He doesn’t want to know so he doesn’t ask, instead walking up to you as you step to the side and let him in. 
Glowing light flickers underneath the security door to the left. You close the door behind you and pass him, letting your fingers grab his hand and link fingers. There are security cameras here, but it’ll look normal, with you pulling him through the halls and to the elevator. Touching is very much permitted here. Encouraged. Required. 
In the elevator, you stand by Yoongi. He leans into you, silent. You squeeze his hand, very small in his, but warm enough to soothe him. You smell faintly almond and cinnamon, making him go wild as he presses a kiss to the top of your head. You giggle, leaning into him fully, arm pressed to arm. 
Perhaps it’s stupid to be so open like this. When Yoongi first started coming here, he was still and awkward, never coming too close, never letting himself be too familiar. Now, the need for you is too strong. He doesn’t care if there’s a camera on him watching him melt into you. He doesn’t care if maybe it shows that this is a little more than money, a little more than just a quick fix.
Yoongi has been coming to you for almost three years. He doesn’t remember when it stopped being about sex, but it hasn’t been that way for a while. At first, he thought it was so silly. Mafia man in love with a woman he pays to have sex with him. Except it wasn’t so silly. You’d long stopped considering him a client and insisting he doesn’t pay you. 
He doesn’t dare. He doesn’t know what money you make from clients. He knows that it has to be good to be at the Red, which specializes in top clientele. He knows it has to be great, even, because you always meet on your terms. In this space. 
He also doesn’t dare to ask you to stop. He doesn’t know how many clients you take, or who. He doesn’t know when, he doesn’t know how often. He knows nothing about your work except that he doesn’t ask you to stop and you don’t ask him if he wants you too. 
It’s an unspoken rule between you. Yoongi is too afraid to ask you to come live with him, and perhaps you’re too afraid to ask him to take you. Whatever the reasons, neither one of you is brave enough to cross the line first. So instead, you dance along it, making whatever this is work. 
Inside the stateroom is clean and smells like expensive candles. The room is luxurious and is exclusively yours. A cut of your earnings go to holding the room, just like the rest of the workers in the other rooms. 
With the door firmly locked behind the two of you, Yoongi heads to the open kitchen and leans against the counter, facing you. You kick off your slippers and turn to face him, half shadowed by the darkness of the hall, half lit by the warm salt lamp in the living room. 
Yoongi drags his eyes up and down your frame. Soft curves, gentle lips, kind eyes. He was gone the first time he saw you, and he’s gone now. Even after all this time. 
“What?” you ask, fingers fidgeting with your t-shirt. He thinks it might be one of his, but he might be imagining it.
“Come here,” he instructs, patting his thigh. 
You grin and approach him. He opens his arms for you and he sighs as you press against him. Your arms wrap around his middle, squeezing him tight. Slotting your head between his shoulder and neck, you hide your face against him, breath warm against his throat. He envelops you in his arms, wrapped around your shoulders and draped down your back. 
Almond fills his senses. He closes his eyes for a second, breathing you in. You don’t say anything, content to sag against him in the low light of the room. This is what he comes here for more than anything. Everything else you offer is secondary. His foremost desire is this - you. 
“Everything okay?” you finally ask, because of course you do.
“Mhmm. Just a long night.”
“You smell like perfume.”
“Hmm?”
“Like peaches.”
He opens his eyes and looks down at you. You crane your head so that you’re peering up at him with one eye, brow arched. His mouth twitches. “Jealous?”
“Maybe.” 
“Interesting.”
“Not particularly.” 
He lowers his arms, letting them drape around your waist. He smacks the round of  your ass a bit, not enough to hurt but enough to make you pout. “We really going to get into the mechanics of this right now?”
Your smile is all he needs to know you’re not serious. At least, not enough to do something about it. “No, but it’s fun to tease you.” 
“Perhaps I should tease you back, then.” 
Hand in hand, you lead him to your room. Yoongi sees the white sheets and grins. White sheets are for him. Grey sheets are for clients, something you’d established in the infancy of whatever this relationship is. He appreciates the little layers of how you make things different for him. You make him feel special - and not the kind that he pays for. 
Falling backward into the bed, you look up at him with those fucking eyes that make him week in the knees. It’s dark in the room but he knows it well, standing at the foot of your bed and reaching down to snatch an ankle and pull you a bit closer. You squeal as he does, making a jolt of joy go through him, grinning. 
“How was your day?” he asks, lifting your foot to rest on his shoulder. He presses an innocent kiss to your ankle and he watches your brows furrow. “What?”
“Are you a foot person?”
“What if I was?”
You shrug a shoulder, watch him trail kisses down your calf. He nips the meat of your leg, an innocent bite but one that makes your leg twitch. “I’d say I’m surprised to learn something new about you after three years.”
“Yeah?” Yoongi lowers himself so that he’s on his knees, the carpet pressing into his slacks. The back of your knee fits perfectly over his shoulder, your leg resting along his back. You lean up on your elbows and look down at him, watching him settle between your legs. “Think you know everything about me, huh?”
Yoongi’s hands feel your warm skin. He marvels at the softness of your thighs, stroking his hands back and forth. Looking at you, he raises his brow in question. You’re too distracted by the feeling of his hands. It stirs something in him, and he cruves his fingers, dragging his blunt nails softly against your skin.
“Feels good,” you mumble, half-lidded. “I do know everything about you, Min Yoongi.”
“That so?”
“Yes. I could eat your heart if I wanted to.”
Yoongi’s stomach flips at how right you are, at how much you know it. Your confidence in his feelings never fails to make him feel like he is cut open and laid bare at your feet, waiting for you to step on him. To make him regret that vulnerability. 
You never do. At every turn, you’ve shown him that you won’t take advantage. That you have no desire to use the fact that one of the most powerful men in the city is in the palm of your hand. Power for the taking. You could wield him like a weapon, he thinks, and yet you don’t. All you want from him is for him to speak freely, to kiss you often, and to hold you tightly. 
So he does. 
Yoongi presses kisses up the softness of your thighs. You drop from your elbows to lay flat on your back again, your breath catching. He watches raptly at the rise and fall of your chest as you gasp a little. He knows exactly what you like, reaching for your sleep shorts to pull them off slowly. 
Tonight, he has nowhere else to go. Neither do you, letting him lean further up between your legs to press wet, open-mouthed kisses against your hips. You squirm a little, sensitive in the hip area. He loves it - would die for it - letting his tongue slip between his teeth to lave over your hot skin to soothe stinging flesh where he’s nipped you. 
His hands are familiar with every dimple in your skin and every curve. He traces them as he pulls your shorts down, grabbing the elastic band of your underwear as he does. He throws them on the floor, hands settling on the inside of your knees as he presses you open, dropping his eyes to your wet folds. 
Yoongi groans. You’re always so eager for him. That’s never been an illusion, the way your cunt drips slowly down to the curve of your ass at the most innocent of touches from him. It fuels Yoongi’s ego, knowing he has this effect on you. Knowing he’s the only one who can get you trembling in anticipation just by kissing the inside of your knees. 
He made the mistake only once asking if you ever get off with your other clients. The flash of anger and irritation had never made him ask again, but you at least gave him an answer: no. 
Thinking back on it now, Yoongi doesn’t know why he asked. He doesn’t care who you have before or between. All he cares about is being in the darkness of this room, your scent heady, his head shadowed between your legs. 
Leaning forward, Yoongi drags the flat of his tongue up your cunt slowly. You let out a moan and he hums, closing his eyes. He’s been craving your sweet tang all day, the tip of his tongue lingering just under your clit before he drags around it, missing your bundle of nerves on purpose. You let out a sound but he grins, removing his tongue to return to tracing sloppy kisses on your legs instead. 
Already lightheaded, he grounds himself by sliding his hands along the outside of your thighs, gripping you here and there as he lavishes you with attention. He knows he’s tired, but he at least wants this. Wants to taste you before bed, to have you melt in his mouth, fingers in his hair. He needs it. 
Yoongi doesn’t dip into the drugs that his operation injects into the streets. He doesn’t need to. There’s nothing that makes him forget who and where he is the way you do. Nothing that amounts to feeling your soft skin beneath his palms, smelling the barest hint of sweat beneath your vanilla perfume.
When Yoongi gets a taste of you, it’s an instant high. He feels lost, hands skimming up your thighs to hold your hips to the bed. Your hands seek his, linking your fingers and pressing your joined hands to your hips as he drags his tongue up the inside of your thigh.
This is why he keeps coming back. The intimacy. The reassurance that this is something more than an accident that Yoongi stumbled on a few years ago. That this is more than the roll of bills he will leave on the nightstand tonight, even when you say not to. 
There is nothing else he needs in these stolen moments with you. 
“Yoongi,” you murmur, voice soft. He hums in response. “Please, I’m going to lose my mind.”
“Good,” he shoots back, biting your knee. You twitch and curse at him, making him laugh. Your glossy cunt is a sure sign that you’re not lying, though. Clit swollen, hole clenching. “Fuck, you have such a wet pussy.” 
“Then put your fucking mouth on it, Yoongi.” 
He laughs. “As you wish, Angel.” 
A breathy whine in the shape of Yoongi’s name leaves your mouth when he starts to eat you out properly. He takes his time, eyes closed as he indulges, tongue rolling up and down your slick pussy. You turn liquid in his mouth, your hips canting as he flicks his tongue across your clit. You shiver in his hands and he grins, gently sucking your clit into his mouth. 
“Yeah,” you pant. “Fuck, like that.” 
Alternating between fastening his mouth on your pussy to suck gently and sliding his tongue into your hole, Yoongi goes with what he knows makes you a mess. Holds out his tongue and lets you fuck yourself against his face, your hand coming to grip his long hair. 
The wet slide of you against his face makes him ache in his pants. He ignores it, determined to hold you still as he buries his face in deeper, picking up the firmness and pace of his mouth and tongue. He feels your essence drip down his chin and his neck. Hears the squelch when he thrusts his tongues into your pussy. Can’t get enough of the way your thighs close around his head, muffling the sound of you whining and saying his name.
Yoongi’s scalp stings when you pull his hair. He doesn’t care. He whips his head back and forth between your legs, tongue pressed against your throbbing clit. You’re shaking underneath him and he pushes you further, dipping low to slurp at your pussy bottom to top, not letting an ounce of you spill out. 
“Holy fuck,” you squeak, voice high-pitched as you arch off the bed. He looks up at you, mouth attached. “Your fucking mouth.” 
He grins, and leans into you further, pushes your thighs higher. Your legs bend easily under his weight. His hips are pressed against the foot of the bed now, hips rolling slightly, seeking for friction. His eyes close as he gets the barest bit of friction against his cock, more focused on making you come into his mouth than getting himself off.
When you come, your whole body goes taut. Yoongi holds you tight in his hands, mouth moving against you messily as he licks you through your orgasm. You dissolve in his mouth, making him hum against your heat. You twist in the sheets, body twitching, muscles flexing. He avoids your clit, thrusting his tongue into your entrance until you’re gasping for air, hands pressing against his head to get him to stop.
Yoongi removes his mouth with one, lascivious lick. He sits backwards on his feet, panting as he looks at you melt into the bed. Your limbs are lifeless and tangled in the blankets, your hand over your eyes as you catch your breath. You look fucking beautiful. 
“Come here,” you rasp, voice rough. 
The bed creaks under Yoongi’s weight. He walks over on his knees, drinking you in. Your cum slicks your thighs, shining in the barest shaft of light escaping the bathroom from a nightlight. You turn to face him, face balmy with sweat. You reach up and work the zipper on his pants, making his stomach flip.
“You don’t-”
“Shut up,” you growl, tugging the metal down hard. He smirks as you press your fingers into his hard shaft through the cotton of his briefs. “Wanna feel your cock in my throat. Can you fuck my mouth?” 
“Fuck yeah, Angel.” 
Yoongi nearly falls getting out of his pants. You laugh, the sound so sweet that he feels himself blush. He’s hot all over, coming alive in the darkness of your room as he strokes his cock. You look innocent, splayed on the bed and blinking up at him. 
Precum drips from his dark tip and you open your mouth, tongue catching it. He curses under his breath, entranced by the way your tongue disappears between your lips. You hum, a glint in your eye as you smirk at him. 
��Vixen,” he says, shaking his head.
“Give it to me.”
One day he thinks he’s going to die of loving you. He knows that this is what it is. It’s more than you opening your mouth and sticking out your tongue for him. It’s more than him letting you suckle on the tip of his cock playfully, his eyes fluttering shut and his thigh muscles twitching. 
Yoongi loves you. It is an incredibly simple fact in his over-complicated world. Among all of the shit and the moves and countermoves he deals with every day, coming here to simply be in love with you is a relief. A home. 
A shiver crawls up his back as he slowly inches his cock into your mouth. Your mouth is wet and warm, your tongue rough on the sensitive underside of his shaft. He keeps one hand on the base of his cock and the other on your jaw, keeping your mouth open to make the slide easier. 
Everything fades away again. Yoongi sucks in a sharp breath as you open up for him. When he touches the back of your throat, he’s careful at first. He knows you can take it. You’ve taken so much more from him, gone so much harder. He doesn’t want to go hard tonight though. He feels soft at the edges, your taste lingering in his mouth.
The wet sound of your throat convulsing around him making him stroke faster. He knows you’re okay, breathing heavily through your nose as you gurgle around him, spit and precum slicking his shaft as he pulls in and out, marveling at the way you look at him, eyes watering.
Your eyes fix on him. Yoongi clenches his teeth, trying not to burst in your mouth. It’s hard when you look at him like that, gaze so dark and hungry and fathomless. You’ve never said you love him. You don’t have to. He knows. He knows in the same way he is aware you know he loves you. He knows enough to trust you with him. With everything. 
There’s not a single doubt with you. It is a rare gift to share this open trust with someone, especially in his position. It is an added bonus that you know he loves it when you swallow around his cock as he presses into the back of your throat. The tight heat of your throat constricting around him does him in, and Yoongi comes with a growl.
You take it in stride, gulping. Taking it down. His eyes roll back in his head and he thinks that if he didn’t love you already, this alone would make him fall in love. 
Pulling out his softening cock, he falls backward on the bed. He’s still in the top half of his clothes, but he is exhausted, lashes fluttering. Your hands are delicate as you begin to pull the jacket from his body. He rolls to the side and lets you, lost in the daze of a much needed orgasm. He feels at ease now, more than he has all day. 
“Come on,” you whisper, pressing a kiss to the spot under his ear. “Take a quick shower while I change the sheets, they’re sweaty. And I came on them.”
“I’d sleep in them anyway.”
“Hmm, too bad. Shower.”
“Meh.”
“Yoongi, you smell like a whore.” That makes him crack an eye and look at you. Your gaze is pointed. “And not like me. I don’t like it.”
“Huh. So you are jealous.”
“Get in the shower.” Your mouth twitches as you try to fight a smile. “Or else.” 
-
Getting up before the sun is your favorite thing. Even now, when you’re tired from being woken up in the middle of the night, you make an effort to crawl out of bed to make coffee. Your steps are heavy and you shiver in the freezing air of the kitchen as you open a drawer and pull out a coffee pod. You hold it up close to make sure you’ve got Yoongi’s favorite brand before sticking it in the machine and popping the lid down, punching the button to brew.
Yoongi is a sleeping mound in your bed. Leaning against the counter, you admire him from afar. He’ll be up soon, your body clock tuned to the hours of his operation. It’s been that way for over a year now, your circadian rhythm trained to be the most functional during the hours in which Yoongi is awake. 
When you were younger, you would have hated to admit that. Would have detested the thought of ever adjusting a single part of yourself for a man. Your entire job was to be moldable. To put on whatever face your client needed, to shape yourself into whatever person that you needed to be. 
You have been so many things. A wife. A mistress. A temptress. A lost loved one. And darker things still, sliding on the skin of client’s fantasies over-and-over again until you lost the substance that made up whoever you were for hours at a time. 
Back then, it would take hours and days to regain who you were. It wasn’t until you were more advanced that you were able to separate who you are from who you pretended to be. Now, it’s not necessarily. There is no other, no mask. Just you and Yoongi, the single client you decided was worth being moldable for.
The smell of coffee wakes him up before his alarm. You watch him sit up in bed, eyes not yet open. His hand spreads to where he expects to find you, only to discover open space. He swivels back and forth then, looking for you. Maybe a little panicked.
A pang aches your heart. It is so easy to forget that even after years of getting up before him first, Yoongi will never be trained out of the instinct that something of his has been taken. The day he doesn’t worry is the day he’ll lose everything and you know it.
“I’m over here,” you call gently. He relaxes and pulls himself together before getting out of bed and trudging out of the room.
Yoongi is pretty in the morning. His face is swollen with sleep, making him look so much younger. Like a dumpling, even. His mouth is fixed in a pout as he rubs at his eyes, steps uneven and dark hair sticking up all over the place. He looks at you, eyes glassy. The faded pink scar over his eye is less intimidating in the morning. You grin and open your arms. His reaction is automatic, sliding between them and sinking into your embrace, head thudding to your shoulder. 
“Hi,” you purr, your hands squeezing around his middle. His shirt is soft in your fingers as you play with the hem. He grunts back, not much of a morning person. You don’t mind. Instead, you let him lay his weight on you, unwilling to move even as the coffee finishes brewing. He smells like sage shampoo and something more unique to him. “You okay, sleepyhead?”
“Mhmm.”
“Can’t talk yet?” he shakes his head against you and you laugh. “Come on, coffee.” 
With Yoongi latched on to you, you walk over to the coffee maker. You giggle, elated as he clings to your front, letting you move him backwards. With his butt pressed against the counter and arms wrapped around you, you lean around him to grab the steaming mug and bring it in front of him.
Pouting, he drops his hands from you and takes it. 
Years of mornings and carefully pulling back layers of Yoongi has earned this rare silliness between you. You’re acutely aware of the fact that the sleepy man in front of you, no matter how soft and blushing he is in the mornings, is a murderer. He’s extorted people, has threatened them, sits at the top of drug trade, and has pushed people into political office with dirty money and blood. Your eyes linger on his scar, a memento of his violent youth. 
You don’t care. It doesn’t matter what Yoongi is and is not. All that matters to you is that he is Yoongi and that he is yours. At least, yours in the way it matters. You don’t dare ask him for more than what you have. It is the one thing you’re afraid of, because even though you know that he loves you, that you know he trusts you, asking for more is something you don’t want to do. Too many people want more of him. You just want whatever you can have. 
As he sips his coffee, careful not to let it spill over and burn you while you bury yourself in snuggling him, you close your eyes. A couple of years ago, you didn’t think a life like this was possible. Getting in at the Red was the first step in the right direction. Though still for sex workers, it was an upper level platform in the industry you clawed your way to. 
Both of you are similar in that regard. Yoongi started from nothing. A poor boy who dropped out of school to work a job and help pay rent at his apartment, too uneducated with not enough resources to make a dent in the world. It was the same story for you, though perhaps a little bloody around the edges, a hand that started selling you before you could make the choice yourself. 
At the thought of your mother, you feel your jaw clench. The bite of the memory is only soothed by the knowledge of Yoongi putting her down himself. Perhaps it makes you a monster, but you’ve accepted that long ago you were what the world crafted you to be, and you wouldn’t apologize.
If you were Yoongi’s shield, he was your sword. You protected him from the weight of his atrocities, and he slayed your monsters. 
It’s what drew Yoongi to you in the first place, the unapologetic approach to life. You appreciate it in him too. He doesn’t try to pretend that he is more or less than what he is, and you never try to hide the ugly parts of yourself. 
And here he is anyway, coffee-warm lips pressed against your forehead. It almost makes you ask for more, but you don’t. This is enough for now. 
The room at the Red isn’t where you live, but it’s yours in everything except lease. You long stopped using it for its intended purposes, now pleased to use it as a neutral ground to meet Yoongi and to stay where you know he is safe. His sprawling estate under guard and gun is surely safe enough, but you like having Yoongi where you can see him. 
After a mostly innocent shower together, Yoongi gets dressed and kisses you goodbye after you walk him down. It’s still dark outside when you swipe your security key. He puts on his biker helmet and gives you a little salute before jogging down the alleyway, splashing into the morning and vanishing around a corner. 
You linger for a moment, watching the empty space where he vanished. It would be nicer to be somewhere you didn’t have to escort him out. Somewhere you could be together all the time. You don’t think Yoongi would say no if you invited him over to your apartment, but you don’t have the security and the heavy protection that the Red offers. 
Collecting your things, you scribble a note for the cleaner before heading out. You’ll only return to the room if Yoongi intends on swinging by again. Though it is more than a suitable place to spend all your time, you like your small apartment tucked downtown above a coffee shop. It has a hominess that feels more like you. That is a little less sterile. 
Sun cracks over the city, spilling light like yolk over the buildings. You shield your eyes as you make your way down the sidewalk, shafts of light falling between buildings. The subway is full of people heading to work. Everyone shuffles without speaking, some buttoning collars of uniforms while others close their eyes in seats, headphones snug over their head. 
The lull of the train as it starts makes you drowsy, but you fight to stay awake. Now that you don’t spend hours sleeping in and recovering from servicing clients late into the night, you value your mornings. Want to be the kind of person whose business hours are during the day, to feel the sun on your skin. 
At your stop, you disappear in the flow of people going up the steps. The concrete above is still wet from the rain the night before, your steps tapping wetly as you go. It’s still summer, but the wind in the shade is cool as you enter the parking garage of your building, heading toward the elevator. 
It’s mostly empty, people having left for work already. There’s a single black SUV by the elevator that you don’t recognize, the windows too dark to see inside. As you approach the car, you realize that it’s on, idling quietly. 
Years of living in the wrong part of town have you slowing your steps. Your eyes flicker to the plate to see a metal shield over it, hiding the numbers on the vehicle. The back of your neck tingles. You come to a full stop, staring at the running vehicle. No one makes a move to get out and there’s no indication that someone is inside.
While you don’t live in the luxurious part of town, your neighborhood is relatively safe. It’s not without instances, but you live deep into Yoongi’s territory, his foothold on this block strong. You’ve never had to worry about walking down the road by yourself at night or making it to your apartment when drunk.
Now, you’re worried. Instinct needles you sharply. There is no reason to think the SUV means you any harm, but something is screaming at you to walk away. 
Then the elevator opens and a normal looking man and woman exit. They don’t pay you any mind as they get into the vehicle, shutting the back door. Your nerves ease and you laugh at yourself for being so ridiculous. There’s no reason for anyone to be doing something nefarious this early in the morning. 
Shaking yourself out of it, you walk the rest of the way to the elevator. As you reach your hand to press the button to call the elevator car, you hear the sound of the car doors opening. You whip your head to look over your shoulder as men get out of the passenger seat and the back seat.
Instinct kicks in. You turn and run, screaming shrilly for anyone that can hear you. They take off after you, steps thundering against the pavement as the SUV squeals its tires to back out of the spot and peel after you. There’s nowhere to go but out into the street. You head for the sidewalk only to be snatched from behind and lifted off your feet.
You react immediately. You throw your elbow back, connecting to one of the men’s faces. He screams and you hear bones crunch. He drops you but your knees buckle, a mix of fear and lack of coordination making you fall to the ground. The other man is on top of you, pressing you into the ground as you scream savagely, kicking your limbs to wiggle out of his grip. 
He grabs your hair and pulls. You yell out, eyes smarting from the sting in your scalp as he then shoves your face into the ground. It hurts. Pain blooms in the side of your face. You’re aware of tiny pieces of gravel digging into soft skin, cutting up your face. The sting is small in comparison to the throb that pulses through your cheekbone as he grinds your face into the pavement. 
Screams echo in the garage as you’re yanked backwards. There are several hands on you, grip like iron. You snarl and yank your limbs to no avail. Just as you’re pulled into the interior of the car, a piece of cloth is slapped hard against your face. You gasp in surprise, a pungent smell filling your nose before you feel a swift fog take over, your mind fading until there is nothing left. 
-
Pain. It’s the first thing you feel when you come to. It’s a slow sort of drift toward awareness, like sluggishly swimming to the surface of a deep lake. You manage to drag yourself there, but immediately want to sink back into the nothingness again once you feel how much you hurt. 
Your face perhaps hurts the most. Not only does your skin burn, but it feels like you’ve been rocked with a cinderblock on the left side of your face. You dully recall having your head pressed into the concrete with near bone-breaking force. It explains why when you open your eyes, the left feels a little swollen. 
The room you’re in is empty. Your shoulder muscles are on fire, hands tied behind your back in the chair you’re sitting in. It’s hard to pinpoint what hurts worse, body littered with bruises and injuries. Still, you’re alive and that has to count for something. 
A man leans against the wall across from you. He watches you curiously. When you become aware of him, you straighten a little in the seat. Your ass tingles with the numbness of sitting there for who knows how long, and your biceps strain with the movement, making you hiss. 
“I’d like to untie you,” the man offers. “But I need a guarantee that you’ll behave.”
You want out of the ropes, so you nod your head. He nods once and pushes off the wall, walking over to you. You use the nearness of his proximity to gather as many details as you can: Patek watch, a basic model. He smells like mandarin and something spicy like pepper - maybe an Arabian fragrance. The suit he’s in is well-tailored and when he pulls a knife out of his pocket to cut the ropes around your wrist, you see a mother-of-pearl handle. 
Money. This man has money. 
Relief makes you sigh, melting into the chair when the pressure in your shoulder blades releases. You immediately lift your hands and place them into your lap, rubbing your trembling fingers across your palms, pressing firmly to encourage blood flow. Your handles tingle as the circulation begins to return to normal, though you can’t make a fist or move all of your appendages immediately. 
The man backs away and leans against the wall once more. He’s incredibly handsome, the kind of guy who might be an actor or in the movie industry, perhaps. You continue to assess him, placing him a few years older than yourself. His hands are linked in front of him. No marriage ring, no tan to indicate there was once a band there either. 
The expensive cologne matched with the watch leads you to believe someone else picked them out, which leaves you with two options: a lover or a sales associate. Judging the make of the watch, you know it doesn’t look like a limited edition series, so not a very personal gift, if a gift at all. And while the cologne smells expensive, it’s too spicy for a day scent, indicating that he doesn’t have someone to tell him the difference between night and daytime colognes.
If you have to guess, they’re things he’s purchased himself on the advice of a sales associate or because of the amount of numbers on the price tag. It’s a habit that comes with new money.
“I apologize for the roughness,” he offers. “It wasn’t my intent to hurt you.”
“Intent matters little. Results matter a lot.”
“Well said.”
Feeling starts to come back to your hands as you flex them. You’re in some sort of construction building. It looks like maybe an apartment building in the making, with plastic tarps covering the windows and metal scaffolding exposing unfinished concrete. Outside, you think you faintly hear the sound of docks and workers.
“Do you know where we are?”
You look him up and down. “We’re in a building. You’re against a wall, and I’m in a chair.”
He scoffs. “Smart mouth.”
“You asked a question.”
“So I did. We’re in a building that was supposed to be my next venture. Someone, however, got in the way and created a bunch of red tape with the city. Now my funding has been slashed and this building has been sitting unfinished for a year, draining me of my property taxes.”
“Well,” you deadpan. “I’m a whore, not a lender. I can’t get you a loan.”
He grins, but you can’t tell if he’s amused. “You’re not just any whore though, are you? I have on good authority you service high profile clients. One of your clients is the reason this building is stuck in paperwork, and now he wants to take even more from me. I can’t let that happen.” 
Yoongi. He’s talking about Yoongi and you know it. You try not to squirm in your seat, meeting his dark eyes head on. Your mind is trying to make decisions and keep up as much as possible, funneling through the list of names Yoongi has mentioned, anything at all that can give you a leg up.
“High profile clients are where the money is,” you admit. You think perhaps this man is Kwan Daehyun, whom Yoongi has been playing chess with for the better part of a year. “I don’t like to sell information on my clients, but I suppose you know that since you kidnapped me.”
“Consider the sales price on this particular client’s information to be your life. I just need a little bit of information, and you’re free.”
You shrug. “You’ve got me there. What do you want to know?”
“Min Yoongi.” You continue to stare at him, giving away nothing. Your heart is racing in your chest and you try to keep your hands from shaking. When you continue not to answer, he clicks his tongue, annoyed. “What can you tell me about his weaknesses?”
You can’t help it, you laugh. Kwan frowns as you giggle. It hurts to laugh, face bursting with pain as you catch your breath and shake your head. “What a cheesy fucking questions. What, you think I just have a list of things that can hurt Min Yoongi?”
“I know how pillow talk goes. He must talk about his stress. Brag about his assets. What else do men go to whores for?”
“To get their cock sucked, usually.”
Kwan pushes off the wall and storms toward you. You sneer up at him, a little less afraid of him now. He appears small and gutless to you, kidnapping a sex worker to ask for pillow talk secrets to gain a fucking advantage. It means he has nothing on Yoongi and has resorted to pisspoor tactics to get anything usable against Yoongi.
Though how he managed to get to you is unsettling. You’re unsure how he made the connection, or how long he has been watching Yoongi. You find that to be the most irritating, to know that Yoongi has been under surveillance for any period of time. Not that you’ve been smacked around and put in an abandoned building on threat of murder. 
“I will fucking kill you.” 
There is truth in his words. Questioning you is a desperate attempt, but perhaps not his only. It occurs to you that he doesn’t thin you hold any value beyond questioning you, and though he’s said he’ll spare you life, you don’t think that’s true. He only sees you as a vacuum for information, and if you don’t have it or you give it to him, he’ll kill you.
You need to be valuable. And fast. 
“Kill me and you ruin any chance of that deal with him.” Kwan hesitates, eyes darkening as the words spill out of your mouth, “In fact, that was probably already off the table as soon as you had me physically harmed and dragged into a car here. So now, you should stop asking me about what Yoongi’s weaknesses are and start asking, what will Min Yoongi do if you call him and tell him who you kidnapped and tied to a fucking chair.” 
Kwan narrows his eyes. You see him assessing the weight of your words. You fight the urge to leap at him and reach for the folding knife in his pocket. Just because you can’t see a gun doesn’t mean there’s not one, and just because you can’t see or hear anyone else in the building doesn’t mean they aren’t there.
Outside you can hear the cry of a seagull. When you breathe in, you smell ocean water and salt. Definitely keeping you in a building by the docks. You think you know the one. Kwan takes a few steps back from you and crosses his arms over his chest. 
“You think he gives a shit if I have you?”
“You asked for Yoongi’s weakness. You’re looking at it.” 
“I think you’re bullshiting me. I think you’re a whore he won’t deal for.”
“One way to find out, right?”
Instead of answering, Kwan turns on his heel and walks towards the opaque tarp. He walks through it and two men replace him at the entrance. Both of them are armed, staring down at you. Ignoring them, you roll your neck in slow circles, trying to ease the soreness.
Tentatively, you reach a hand up to your face, pressing your fingers into your cheek. You hiss, the pain still raw and present underneath your fingers. You can feel small scabs from where the gravel broke skin, but thankfully it doesn’t feel like your eyes are too swollen. 
Time passes. You remain in the chair, fidgeting now that you’re awake. Your tongue is heavy in your dry mouth and your lips begin to burn from wetting them constantly, only to be dried out by the salty air. You feel itchy and irritable, trying not to squirm too much in the chair lest you disturb the guards.
Most of all, without having to put on a brave performance, you feel afraid. Afraid of being here by yourself in this warehouse, afraid that you’ve made a mistake trying to make yourself valuable, afraid that Kwan isn’t going to give you a chance to talk to Yoongi as proof of life. 
You’re not versed in this part of Yoongi’s life. So much of his business has been held separate from you. The violence and the extortion and the sketchy deals have always been something he did outside of that room at the Red. You’re not afraid of this life, though. Just unprepared and trying to guess what to do next, fueled by poorly written crime movies and stories that Yoongi has told you in the warmth of your bed.
It feels like hours have gone by when Kwan comes back into the room. You sit up straight when you see the phone in his hand and see the fire in his eyes. He looks like a man who has had something go right - which means you have him right where you want him, if he’s doing what you think he is. 
Kwan holds out the phone to you. “You have five minutes to talk to him as an act of good faith on my proposal.”
You see Yoongi’s name on the caller idea and try not to start crying. Swallowing thickly, you lick your lips again and bring the phone up to your ear. The tremble in your hand and your voice isn’t a performance when you say, “Hello?”
“Where are you? He hasn’t told me.”
“Yeah, I’m alive.” You sniff a little. “Agh, don’t make me cry. My face will get saltier than it already is.”
“I need more than that, Angel. He’s trying to make deals with me, but I need to know where you are to come get you. He won’t tell me where you’re at unless I wire over money and legally sign over assets.”
“No, he hasn’t hurt me. He’s been polite, though I’ve been kind of a beach- bitch. I’ve been a bitch. Sorry, I’m very tired.”
“Is it the building in the warehouse district at the docks? That apartment shell?”
“Yes, I can do that. Just… please agree to whatever he says, I feel tired and loaded. Bloated. Sorry, I’m confusing words again.”
“Yeah, well I’ve got fucking guns too. We’re going to come get you okay?”
This time when you sniff, you feel actual tears. Of relief that he understands your weird turns of phrase, of the terror at knowing he’s going to have to come get you. To risk his life for you. You knew he would, and yet you almost hate to ask him. 
“Thank you.” 
“You’ll be okay, Angel, but I need you to listen.” 
“Okay.” 
His voice is firm as he says, “I need you to do whatever it is you need to do to protect yourself. Don’t think twice about it. It is you or them, do you understand me? There is almost a certainty you are going to have to kill someone when we come get you. Start thinking about it now. Try to get used to it so that when the time comes, you’re not afraid anymore.” 
“Okay. I love you.” 
“See you soon.”
-
Yoongi likes to think that he is an expert in control. His compartmentalization is unmatched, and though he is incredibly proud, his pride is not easily wounded. Foolish slights and insults don’t rile him the way they might have in his youth, and physical threats of harm are amusing, especially when no very few people carry through on their threat. 
When Yoongi hangs up the phone, he loses every ounce of control he’s ever felt. Never has his urge to destroy been so sharp. He sees red, slamming his hands across his desk and swiping everything off. He tastes metal in his mouth as he bites through his cheek, screaming as he hammers his fists on top of the desk hard enough that he thinks he might split the wood. 
Hoseok and Seokjin hear the commotion, crashing into the office with Namjoon and Jungkook behind them, weapons drawn. Yoongi is shaking when he looks up at them, the phone screen cracked in his hand. He cannot stop shaking, the adrenaline coursing through his veins like a dose of heroin. 
All of their voices sound like a mess of sounds. The ringing in his ears overpowers everything they’re saying as he stands there, hands at his side, mind racing and chest heaving as he pants. Why is he panting? Yoongi feels like he’s suddenly not getting enough air, dropping his phone to loosen the tie around his neck, trying to give himself more room to breathe. Why do his clothes feel so fucking tight?
Suddenly it’s like there isn’t enough air in the room. Yoongi feels the tunnel vision come up on him fast. Chills spread through his body as he wavers, hands held out as he tries to catch his breath. He feels hands on him trying to steady him, but he yanks away from them. They feel too close, too much in his space and he needs more room. Room to get this blazer off and breathe. Breathe, why can’t he breathe? 
Yoongi stumbles into a wall. His vision pulses on the edges and he can vaguely make out Hoseok’s voice. He looks up at him and sees his friend, his advisor. Hoseok isn’t touching him, but his head is cocked as he tries to keep and maintain eye contact with Yoongi. 
“Inhale for seven seconds,” Hoseok says. “Then exhale for seven. I’ll count.”
“What?” Yoongi demands.
“You’re having an anxiety attack.” Hoseok states it as if it’s the most common thing in the world. “You have to regulate your breathing or you’re going to pass out. If you pass out, we can’t help.” 
It’s the only thing that gets him to listen. He counts with Hoseok, drawing in long breaths.
One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven.
Yoongi has to shake this. Has to get ready and call his people, needs to make plans to come get you. He knows exactly where you are - wants to fucking kiss you for how clever you mange to be even while terrified. 
One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven.
He knows you’re afraid. Yoongi has never heard your voice tremble like that since he’s known you. He knows every tone of your voice, every color to the spectrum of your sounds, able to pick them apart to know how you feel. And while you spoke in a clear tone, it was all wrong. Colored with terror. Voice soft and rough and wavering. 
One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven.
The ringing in his ears fade. Yoongi continues to take slow, deep breaths. His hands are still shaking and he feels a little light headed, but when he blinks a few times and looks around, he sees his closest men and confidants standing around him, waiting. 
“Talk to us,” Hoseok urges. “What’s going on?”
“Kwan has my girl. They’re in that apartment project we froze in the docks.”
“He told you where they were?”
“No, she did.”
Hoseok looks weary. “That sounds like a trap - did he already offer you a deal?”
“He said several things. He didn’t tell me where they were, she did.”
“In front of-”
“Hoseok, stop asking stupid questions or I swear to fucking god I’ll hit you first. She’s not used to any of this, but she isn’t fucking stupid. She used the words salt, beach and loaded. They’re in that building and they’re armed.”
“Poetic,” Seokjin grunts. Yoongi cuts his gaze to his head of security and the man pales. “Sorry, bad timing.”
“Get every fucking person we know on the fucking ground and here. We’re going to get her.”
“They’ll see us coming from a mile away.”
Yoongi stares at Seokjin. “I don’t give a fuck. Kwan wanted to find a weakness, well he found one. And now I’m going to paint that shitty little development with his blood.”
An hour later is when it hits Yoongi. He stops in the middle of tying a shoe and he stands. He’s replaying the conversation with you over and over in his head, looking for any other details he could have missed. He was so fucking proud of you for getting your point across even while scared, but now it’s something else he thinks of.
I love you. He had almost not realized you said it at all at the end of the call. He can’t remember if he said it back, but he’s suddenly sick over the what if of it all. What if he doesn’t get to say it back? What if he gets there and swarms in, only to find you dead? 
In a moment of panic, he texts Hoseok to request proof of life on the hour every hour from Kwan under the guise of considering his horrendous deal. Kwan, of course, thinks he’s got Yoongi. He doesn’t, naturally. They haven’t agreed on a time or place to meet, and Kwan does not seem to understand just how poorly he’s miscalculated. 
None of it matters. All that matters is that Yoongi is going to come get you like he promised, and he is never letting you out of his sight again. 
-
Surprisingly, your living conditions change a little upon Kwan learning that you’re more valuable kept alive and in decent condition than beat up or dead. He has a cot and a fan brought in, along with an ice back for your cheek and a thermos of water.
You crush the thermos almost immediately. Though you’re kept under armed guards now, you’re relieved to be able to lay down and stretch your sore limbs. When the ice pack finally grows hot and melts on your aching cheekbone, one of the guards gets you a new one without question.
It almost makes you feel bad for what is to come. Almost. 
You know Yoongi. It’s why you gambled with a hostage play in the first place. He won’t let them have you and it doesn’t matter what Kwan offers him, Yoongi is far too powerful to accept deals from the likes of Kwan. It isn’t so much a matter of pride as it is a matter of power. You know Yoongi has the power to pull you out of this without further harm. 
At least, you have put every ounce of trust and confidence in him that you have. 
Time moves slowly. It’s hard to know how fast Yoongi will mobilize or what his plan is. It would make sense for him to perhaps cause a distraction elsewhere to get Kwan’s eyes off of you, but it’s also a dangerous game to play with a hostage. 
It doesn’t matter. Yoongi has his job and you have yours, which is to work the screw out of one of the cots joints. You’ve picked one that isn’t imperative to the overall structure of the cot. It can bear your weight without the screw as long as you don’t lean on the joint too much. It takes you a while to unscrew it with your bare fingers, all while lying on your back trying to look uninterested in anything.
I need you to do whatever it is you need to do to protect yourself. 
Finally, you pull the cool metal free. You slide it into the pocket of your sweatpants. The weight of it feels better than nothing. It won’t do much damage, but a well placed punch to the face with the screw between your knuckles will do what you need, even if you damage your hand to do it. 
You’ve never killed someone. Thought about it a few times, maybe. Had some people try to sway you to slip something into a client’s drink, but you never accepted. Killing isn’t your business. It’s Yoongi’s, but you know that if he’s telling you to take the chance, it’s because he wants you to live. 
The thought is chilling. You rest your hand on the pocket, feeling the shape of the screw. You don’t know how to kill. You’re not even entirely sure that you have it in you. You’ve seen people die and you’ve seen people murder. It seems easy.
You’re not sure if it’s that simple. 
It’s late into the night when a commotion draws you from your half-slumber. You lift your head as someone comes in and mutters something to the guards. They nod and one of them leaves, the other turning to face you with a glare, hand resting just inside his jacket where you assume there’s a gun.
Outside, you hear the sound of peeling tires as a car takes off. 
Nerves take over. You feel your heartbeat pickup as you continue to lay on the cot, one hand under your pillow. It’s hard to think of what might be happening over the sound of your own pulse, but you try to regulate your breathing. There’s nothing happening right that second that you can control, so there’s no reason to panic.
A few minutes go by. It’s agony, waiting with bated breath. It’s quiet outside except for the sounds of the ocean and the mostly empty warehouses and docks. Plastic snaps in the breeze, loud in the silence of your waiting. You think that this is the worst part, the anticipation for what’s to come. You can’t sleep now even if you tried. 
When the first round of gunfire comes, you almost lose control of your bowels. It’s a shameful sort of fear that takes you by surprise, making you freeze up. You have been waiting for it, and yet now that you can hear the sound of automatic weapons somewhere below, it feels worse than you imagined. 
Looking up at the guard at the door, you reel in surprise to see him rushing toward you. Time seems to slow down. The sound of guns and yelling fade to the background everything suddenly becomes hyper focused. 
I need you to do whatever it is you need to do to protect yourself. 
As the guard leans to pick you up, you strike like a snake, pulling the screw from your pocket and jabbing upward with a savage scream.
His guttural cry splits the night. You feel hot blood spray your hand and dot your face as you plunge the blunt screw into his eye socket. Blood makes your fingers slippery and as he falls onto his back, hands clutching his face, you lose your grip. 
I need you to do whatever it is you need to do to protect yourself. 
No hesitation. You dive for him, stained hands searching for the weapon. The metal of the gun slides in your slick fingers. Through the blinding pain, the guard realizes what you’re doing and grabs your forearms. You pull back against him but can’t shake his grip, your hand stuck in his jacket on the gun. You finger the trigger and squeeze, but it doesn’t budge. The fucking safety. 
Sliding a knee down, you crush the cap of your knee between his legs, pressing his balls with your full weight. He screams and his grip goes slack. You yank on the gun, almost dropping it as it slides free from the holster. Your grip is clumsy and shaking, your heart pounding so hard you think you might die of fright before you manage to find the safety on the hammer and pull it back. 
I need you to do whatever it is you need to do to protect yourself. 
Click. Squeeze. Bang. 
You don’t aim. Don’t have the sense to at that moment. This close, you don’t have to aim at all. You hit your target and his yelling turns to shrieks. You can’t tell where you’ve shot him, all you know is that you have. You scramble away, hands slipping on the floor, gun clutched clumsily in your hand. 
A hand goes around your ankle and you scream as he drags you backward. You roll onto your back, bringing the gun up again, trying to aim in the general direction of his chest.
Squeeze. Bang. 
It’s so loud. Your ears are ringing and you’re unable to hear anything as the grip on your ankle immediately goes slack. The guard goes limp, the fight leaving him immediately. You don’t look - can’t look. Can’t focus on anything but the way your vision tunnels. 
Dizziness sweeps over you as you crawl away from him again. Your knees and palms might hurt if you could feel anything at all, but numbness starts to take over as you manage to press yourself against a wall near the doorway. You don’t dare move toward it, too untrained to handle a gun while terrified. 
“Angel!” you hear Yoongi’s voice screaming somewhere in the building. You open your mouth but nothing comes out. Your lips tremble. You try to find your voice, willing the words to come. Mouth open, his name on the tip of your tongue, you can’t find a response. “Angel, come on, baby! Where are you?”
“Yoongi,” you whisper. It’s not nearly loud enough and your voice cracks on the name. You close your eyes and take a deep, shuddering breath as you muster strength behind your voice. “Yoongi!” 
“That’s it, keep talking to me.” 
It sounds like he is yelling somewhere down a stairwell, voice echoing up concrete walls. “Up!” You start to curl into yourself. “Yoongi, up!” 
Steps thunder in the stairwell. You drop the gun next to you and look at your hands. They’re slick and wet. In a panic, you start wiping them on your sweatpants, smearing red as you do. You viciously wipe your hands. You want the blood off, you don’t want it all over you, it’s hot and stick and it’s not yours and it belongs to the dead man who was trying to take you-
Warm hands grab your face and tilt you upward. You blink through blurry tears. Yoongi looks back at you, his forehead sweaty and his slicked back hair a little messy. He turns your face from side to side as more of his men flood into the room, guns raised.
Yoongi’s mouth moves but you can’t hear him. You shake your head, looking up at him. His grip softens and the gentle brush of his thumb back and forth across your face eases the rising panic inside of you. You sniff, taking a few slow, trembling breaths. 
“Are you seriously injured?” Yoongi asks again, voice rough. Cracking. “Do you need medical attention?”
“No.”
“The blood-” You shake your head violently, closing your eyes. “Okay. It’s okay. You did what you needed to do, Angel. I’m going to get you on your feet and take you home, okay?” 
“I don’t-”
“My home. Not yours. You’re coming home.”
Yoongi doesn’t need to explain what he means. As he slowly pulls you to your feet, you know what he’s telling you. You’re going to his estate, because it’s yours too now. The agreement is unspoken but mutual. You don’t want to go back to your apartment. You don’t want to go back to the Red. Right now, all you want is to wash the blood from your hands and get away from this place. 
Seokjin is at the door with a blanket. He wraps it around you as Yoongi keeps his hands around your waist, steadying you as you walk. You get down two levels of stairs before he tucks you into him and presses his lips against your temple.
“Close your eyes,” he murmurs, mouth moving against your skin. “I won’t let you trip.”
You do as you’re told. His steps are confident and careful as he leads you through the bottom floor. You hear the murmur of voices, the flapping of plastic tarp, and the humming engines of vehicles. Yoongi lifts you lightly and helps you get into the cool interior of a car that smells like leather. 
When the door shuts, you flinch and open your eyes, staring straight forward. Yoongi is next to you, arm going around your shoulders as he pulls you into his side again. You realize for the first time as you glance at him that there’s blood on his face and in his hair. His knee bounces up and down, his hand resting against it, still gripping a gun with the safety off. 
“Are we safe?” you whisper, staring at his gun. 
“Yes.”
“Then why-”
“It makes me feel better,” he admits. “I just need to come down.”
“Okay.” 
“Look at me.”
You do. His eyes are dark and though his mouth is pinched at the corners and the vein throbs in his forehead, his eyes are soft for you. “I love you,” he murmurs. “We’re safe.”
-
A week makes the pain in your cheekbone fade away. A week does not make the memory of squeezing the trigger fade. At night, the memory is worse. What your mind had been unable to remember at first comes back in full-clarity at night, gripping you in your sleep and dragging you down into an endless terror until Yoongi pries you from the clutches of your nightmares and wakes you. 
It’s easier with him by your side, though. You’re at least able to fall asleep, if not stay asleep through the night. When he wakes you from screaming and thrashing in the sheets, you’re able to settle against him, his hold on you firm. Comforting.
Yoongi takes this in stride. He doesn’t complain, doesn’t lose his patience. He simply murmurs that he gets it and holds you, his skin warm and smelling like home. 
Home. 
The estate is a sprawling mass of elegance that stuns you each day. Beyond the opulence of the home and the luxury that it offers, what matters most is the security. The personnel at every entrance, the high gate with cameras and alarms, the three lurking dobermans that still terrify you when you see them standing in a dark hall at night or watching you in the kitchen when you get a glass of water after a nightmare. 
Nox has come around to liking you, at least. She’s become your shadow in the house, which had made you a little unsure at first. Now, she trails you up the stairs and to the master bedroom. You’ve grown used to her - prefer it, even, when Yoongi is not home like right now. 
Erebus and Khonsu are on the floor of the master bedroom. Both watch you as you enter, unbothered but aware. Where their younger sister has adopted you as an owner and a thing to protect, they still seem set on Yoongi only. 
The three dogs remain in the bedroom as you end the bathroom. It makes you feel safe to know that even if someone managed to get through the gates, up the driveway, through the secured doors and the dozen people that Yoongi has stationed at the estate since your kidnapping, the dogs are another line of defense. 
So is the gun under the bathroom cabinet and in the nightstand, but you don’t want to touch a gun ever again. Not if the nightmares it gives are like this. 
Steam fills the room accompanied by the scent of eucalyptus. Carefully, you peel the clothes from your body and toss them into a corner. The stone shower is warm with heated floors and a digital panel both inside and outside for control of the fifteen different water settings. There’s even steam options, but you simply turn on the rain feature, slipping under the dripping ceiling. 
The hot, wet taps of the water lull you into a trance. You stand with your head tilted down, letting the rivulets of water run the full length of your body.
“Angel, I’m home,” Yoongi calls from the bedroom. You smile, appreciating that he announces his presence instead of sneaking up on you. He’s always careful to make noise when he enters rooms now and announces his arrival. “You just get in?”
“Yeah,” you call back. “Join me?”
“Give me five.” 
When he finally enters the bathroom, you turn around to look at him. He’s already pulling the tie around his neck loose, dropping it to the ground. You catch sight of the red across his knuckles. Though he is free of blood - an effort on his part now to bring it home to you - you notice the days where he comes home and his knuckles are split or bruised, hands aching. 
Watching Yoongi undress captures your full attention. His movements are slow and methodical. His back is to you, shirt dripping off his broad shoulders to join the tie on the floor. He looks up in the mirror and pauses, dark eyes catching yours. You raise a brow and gesture for him to continue. When he does, it’s with his tongue poking his cheek and a smirk. 
Knowing that you’re watching, Yoongi turns it into an art. His fingers trace the top of his slacks before he slowly undoes the belt, pulling it with a satisfying hiss through the loops before holding it out to the side and letting it clatter to the floor. Your eyes are zeroed in on his reflection in the mirror as he works the button open, peeling the top of his pants apart to reveal the logo of his briefs. 
Yoongi pauses. Your eyes dart up to his in the mirror to find him watching you, eyes dark. The scar looks menacing today. You squeeze your thighs together, chewing on your bottom lip. He notices, smirk growing as he rolls the slacks down his thighs and kicks them aside. You see the imprint of his half-hard cock in his briefs, your attention on him alone enough to get his blood pumping.
You’ll never get over having that effect on him. Knowing that even after the nightmares and becoming an inconvenience - in your eyes, at least - the chemistry between you isn’t gone. It’s still there, a burning candle. 
Slowly, Yoongi peels off his briefs. His heavy cock bobs as he steps out of them and you feel your pussy clench around nothing, just thinking about him stretching you open. He says nothing about the small bead of precum at the tip as he turns and walks over to the shower.
He’s built beautifully. Broad shoulders with a slim, tapered waist. Strong arms and large hands, firm chest and soft but muscular stomach. Yoongi is the perfect blend of pretty and rugged, a combination that you didn’t know existed until him. 
When he steps into the shower, you step further into the water, making room for him. He shuts the door and frowns at the distance between you, holding out his hand. You take it immediately and he pulls you forward, careful not to let you slip on the tile.
He doesn’t waste a moment. Yoongi’s mouth captures yours, wet from the shower water as he sucks your bottom lip between his teeth, nipping lightly. You hum, bringing your arms to loop around his neck, fingers combing through his wet hair. His cock presses against your lower stomach, and you shiver. 
Yoongi’s kisses are addicting. Slow, like he has all the time in the world, but hungry, like he can’t get enough. His tongue brushes the roof of your mouth, his teeth pulling at your lip again when he pulls his mouth away to press open-mouthed kisses on your jaw. 
Tilting your head back, you let him pepper kisses along your throat. You close your eyes, letting him hold you to him. The room tilts as you sway in his arms, the feeling of him licking the hollow of your throat entrancing. It’s so simple yet it feels so good. 
One arm loops around your waist to keep you pressed to Yoongi, his other slides up your wet skin to cup your breast. You let out a breathy moan when you feel his thumb circle your stiff nipple, the stimulation so bare but so good. 
Yoongi keeps you cradled against him, mouth working your neck and shoulder and back up to your mouth while his thumb lazily plays with your nipple. You're pliant in his arms, letting him do whatever he wants with you.
His mouth starts to descend and when he finally takes your nipple into his mouth, you can’t stop the whine that escapes you. He hums as he sucks gently, tongue flicking back and forth over the peak. You can’t help but twitch in his arms, a ripple of pleasure sliding through you. 
Heat pulses between your legs and you feel the slick gathering in your folds. Your legs squeeze together again as Yoongi drags his teeth over your sensitive nipple before letting go and switching to the other. This time, he looks up at you through dark, wet lashes, sticking out his devilish tongue as he uses the tip to trace your skin.
“Show off,” you mutter, voice shaking. 
He laughs and runs the flat of his tongue over your nipple before giving a sharp suck that has you arching into him. “You love having your tits in my mouth,” he shoots back. He bites the top of your breast softly, teeth scraping your soft skin. “Don’t deny it.”
“I plead the fifth.”
“Hmmm.” 
“You don’t have to say anything,” he teases. The hand around your back slides down to your ass. He grabs a handful, squeezing generously. “Can you turn around for me? Legs spread so I can see that pretty pussy.” 
“Fuck.” 
He drops his arms so you can turn around. You press your palms against the wall, shivering as the cold tile leeches the warmth from you. The temperature difference makes the room tilt. You slide your legs apart and stick your ass out toward him, lifting a little. 
“Fuck yeah.” 
You can’t see him, but you feel him as he slides down to his knees. His palms grip your ass, spreading your cheeks open. You close your eyes and let your head hang between your arms when it feels too heavy to hold up yourself. 
“Just want a quick taste,” Yoongi mutters.
“Shiiiit,” you hiss, feeling his tongue dance up and down your cunt. He licks you in broad, slow stripes before he puts his entire mouth on you and sucks sharply. “Just like that.” 
“Fuck.” The smack of his lips against your wet heat are bracketed by the slick sound of him stroking his cock, the filthy sounds echoing in the shower. “I could eat you out every day.”
“You do.”
“Fine.” His tongue zigzags back and forth, reaching to swirl around your click. He kisses your cunt and stands up. “I’ll make it twice a day, then.” 
The blunt head of his cock slides between your folds. You press back toward him, eager to have him push in and split you open. He tuts at you, giving you a gentle smack on your ass. “Eager.”
“I’ve been waiting all fucking day for it, Yoongi. Give it to me.” 
“Mmm.” 
The feeling of Yoongi sinking his cock into you slowly drives you mad. You feel like you can’t breathe, every inch of his thick length stretching your walls to the max. It feels like he’s in your guts when he bottoms out, the pressure immense and good and dizzying. 
He starts slow, giving a few shallow thrusts as you adjust to be pried open. You relax around him, falling into the pleasure as he begins to fuck you in earnest. Hands on your waist, he pulls your ass backwards, meeting every one of his strokes in a loud, wet smack of hips on ass.
A shiver ripples down your spine and you moan when he adjusts the angle, prodding your g-spot. “Yeah?” he asks through gritted teeth. “That the spot?”
“Yes, please fuck me just like that.”
Nothing else exists beyond this. The steam makes your skin even hotter, cloying the air and making it hard to breathe. It makes everything fuzzy, like you’re drifting in and out of reality, pleasure unfolding in you as you squeeze around his cock. 
Each snap of his hips is punctuated with stilted breath. You’re gasping, thighs burning as you take every inch of him, fingers curling against the wall, eyes rolling back as you fall into a mute space. You make sound but no words come out, the pressure against that spot inside of you driving you mad. 
Yoongi slides a hand from your waist over the curve of your ass and between your cheeks, thumb pressing gently on the rim of your ass. You let out a loud moan, fingers trying to grab the wall to no avail. The new stimulation feels delicious, Yoongi’s thumb pressing against your asshole in time with his strokes. He doesn’t push past the ring of muscles, but it doesn’t matter - it’s enough to send you careening closer to your orgasm, toeing the line of insanity. 
“Fuck, Angel,” he pants, fucking into you harder. “Just like that, make it fucking creamy. You gonna come?” 
“Fuuuuck yeah.”
His thumb presses harder against your rim. “Come on, give it to me.” 
“Shit shit shit shit.” 
You lose the ability to say anything. Your body folds forward, only held up by Yoongi and the press of the freezing cold wall as he fucks you with precision. It sends you over the edge, your knees knocking as you come, fists pressing into the wall as you yell through it. 
The sound of the shower is drowned out by your babbling. Yoongi thrusts hard a few more times, hand slipping away from your ass to grip your waist hard, chasing his high. He comes with a loud curse, fingers digging into your skin. 
For a moment, he leans into you, pressing his cock as far in as he can go. Your pussy throbs around him, every pulse ebbing around him. He presses kisses up your spine, hands sliding up your ribs to pull you upright until your back is against his chest. 
“Fuck,” he pants, voice rough. “I’m so glad you’re mine.”
“I’ve always been yours.”
“I mean entirely. Without sharing.”
You pause, looking up at him with a frown. “You know I haven’t been… taking clients for two years, right?”
He pauses. “What?”
“You stupid boy,” you laugh, laying your head against his shoulder. “Of course I wasn’t. I just wanted you.” 
“Then why stay there?”
You shrug a shoulder, letting your eyes fall closed. The warmth of the orgasm blooms through you, Yoongi’s skin hot against your back and  the shower hotter still. “It was a place I knew you’d be safe when you visited. And I didn’t want to ask you for more. Everyone always wants more from you. I just wanted you.”
“All that time, I could have just… asked you to come home?”
��Yes. But it’s okay. I’m home now.”
He kisses your neck. “You are home, Angel.” 
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wildestdreamsblog · 3 months
Text
Latibule Season 2: I
Pairing: Min Yoongi x Reader (Mafia/Detective AU)
Summary: In which he lost his latibule.
Warnings: Secret Identity, Yandere behavior, Obsessiveness, Possessiveness, Manipulative behavior, Violence, Mention of death, Disability, Sexual themes, If you’re not 18+ please, PLEASE, do not interact. Be mindful of the warnings. Let me know if I miss anything.
A/N: In the spirit of Christmas hehe
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Masterlist, Prologue
He didn’t believe that you were gone no matter what anyone said.
Everyone was saying the same thing. You were gone and there was nothing anyone could do to bring you back. However, Min Yoongi didn’t like their answer and anyone who said that you had already passed on from this earth was met with his wrath that was communicated through his fists and weapons. No one could even tell him that he now couldn’t physically follow where you were. In his twisted mind, he thought that he could follow you because you never left this earth. Of course, he could follow. You did promise, after all, that you would never go somewhere where he couldn’t fucking follow. His angel would never lie to him, he thought. But your absence was saying otherwise. Your absence was too loud.
The days following the moment he opened his eyes and learned of your demise were bloody and dark. Everyone was on edge, and the traitors went to hell here on earth. They did wish they had died instead, but death was never quick when it came to them, nor was it painless. Min Yoongi made sure that they felt every ounce of pain he felt when you were taken away from him. His brothers could not even reason with the man. They didn’t know how to handle this Min Yoongi. It was as though he died there with you, and what was left of him was only his darkness. Agustd was already ruthless, but now he was just outright cruel, burning everything and everyone that crossed his path.
No one could even say their piece to him-well, all except Kim Seokjin. Despite Jin choosing the less violent life and despite him spending his days treating people in the hospital, no one could deny the power he naturally excluded. It was the power that was inherent to him when he was unfortunate enough to be born to a father that was the previous mafia king. Kim Seokjin may possessed the face of an angel, but he was the most dangerous of them all. It was just that he had a patience of a saint, and everyone fret the day someone snapped his patience. He was a dangerous, eccentric man. And he was a ticking time bomb in comparison to Taehyung who just kept on exploding without an end in sight. Min Yoongi, though, was known to be a reasonable man, his calm nature was never broken. It took losing you to break the calmness in him. The days after he woke up, he was seen back where he was the happiest. Day after day, Yoongi could be found there, leaning against the tree with cigarette in between his lips as he looked at the ruins of your house. The fire took everything from him. It was angry as it smoldered what once was his latibule to the ground, leaving nothing but ashes in its wake. Yoongi thought that the world was simply too cruel to him to strip away the only place he had of you. He couldn’t even smell you anymore, couldn’t even go to the place that was full of your presence.
How cruel was it to have you once and never again? How cruel was it for him to finally have found the warmth, to finally have basked in it for a moment too short, only for him to live in a winter forever after you? He would never admit to anyone that each time he closed his eyes, the only thing he saw was the moment you fell as the bullet pierced your skin. So, he had not been sleeping well. If you were here, he thought, you would chase away all the demons in his head. If you were here, you would put your arms around him, rub your hands on his shoulder in a soothing way only you knew how, and you would silently tell him that everything would be okay, that he wasn’t as bad as he thought he was. Yoongi couldn’t do anything. All he did was to go to the place where he found and lost you.
He was always there, Jimin noted. He made this place your temple, mural and shrine. However, never once did he visit where you were finally laid to rest. Never once did he even acknowledge your death. It was like not seeing it would make your death untrue. And so, day after day, hour after hour, the man could be found there as though he was waiting on a miracle, as though if he waited long enough then you would return, as though if he stayed long enough, you would walk back and smile at him, all while calling him a fool for looking too sad.
But you never did.  
And after a whole year, Min Yoongi never uttered your name again.
---
“Y-you’re supposed to be the good one! W-what is the Chief of Police doing here?!”
Yoongi watched in boredom as Jungkook pushed a man to kneel in front of him. The warehouse was quiet, well, save for the screaming of the traitors. The other brothers were busy with torturing the remaining traitors they kept alive. And today, he was faced with the last remaining traitor they had yet to kill. See, this asshole was so below the rank that he didn’t know that the Chief of Police was also the same Agustd, the leader of the mafia.
He was nothing, Yoongi thought. And yet, he was the one who blew up your house. He could almost laugh if he still knew how.  “T-the public will know! I’ll tell them that you’re the d-devil!”
Yoongi blew the smoke on his face emotionlessly, a strand of his dark hair falling on his face. “You’re not an intelligent man, are you?” he asked evenly before pulling the cigarette in between his lips and onto the idiot’s eyelid. He heeded his screams no mind as he removed his jacket with his badge on it. Someone from his right stepped in to carefully fold his jacket. Yoongi folded his sleeves to his elbows and without any warning, punched the man on his face.
The man proved to be an even greater fool as he laughed in false bravado, blood a stark contrast against his crooked teeth, “Is that all you can do? You don’t have it in you to kill. You’re a civil servant!”
“Is that so?” he asked in a conversational tone as he picked up a knife, putting it up over the light to inspect it before turning to the buffoon. “Which hand burned the house?”
“What?”
Yoongi looked at Jungkook and the latter manhandled the man near the table, flatting both his hand on it. “Which hand should I cut?” He walked nearer to them as though he had all the time in the world. “This one,” he stabbed the table, missing the man’s hand by a centimeter. “Or this one?” he repeated the action for the right hand, except that this time he intentionally stabbed the knife through his thumb, severely cutting it. “Oh no,” he said in a deadpanned voice before looking directly at him. “Guess my aim got bad.”
“W-who are y-you?!”
He smiled at him; his eyes remained emotionless. “Hi, I’m Agustd. Nice to meet you. So which hand?”
“N-No! No, please! I’ll give you what you want-“
Yoongi sighed, already losing his patience. “You do have to choose. We won’t stop until you only have one hand. Or do you want me to choose?”
“L-lef-“
Before the traitor could even finish sputtering what Yoongi deemed was bullshit, he buried the hilt of the knife into his hand. He didn’t even blink when he felt resistance from his bones, Yoongi merely kept on pushing, uncaring of the wailing man. He never stopped until he the knife finally touched the surface of the table.
And after that, he stabbed his hand again. He never ceased, not until the hand was completely mutilated. He never stopped, not even when the blood kept sputtering on his face from the man’s open wound, a stark contrast on his pale white complexion. He never stopped even when the man lost consciousness.
“He’s going to die, Yoongi,” Seokjin noted lightly from his seat. From outside looking in, he looked like a perfect image of peace, yet the hold he had on his phone was a telltale sign that he was far from pleased. He was not even phased by the violence around him, his focus merely on the whereabouts of his runaway sunshine. “I do not have the patience required to revive a dying man tonight.”
Yoongi paused, leering at the man who was slipping in and out of consciousness, before heeding his hyung’s statement. He did not want to test Jin’s patience tonight when it was apparent that he was barely holding on to his control.
He didn’t want to kill this man tonight. No. He planned on keeping him alive for years and years to come. He planned to give him hope, only for him to squash it away like he did his. As long as Yoongi shall live, then he shall suffer with him. As long as he was living in this fucked-up nightmare where you weren’t by his side, then so should he lived his very own crafted nightmare.
If he wasn’t happy, then why should anyone be?
---
“That phone looks like it wants to rest,” Jimin observed lightly as he and his hyung visited another crime scene that was definitely not because of them. It was three hours away from Seoul, the travel time giving him headache, similar to what Jimin was giving him. He watched as Yoongi ended the call before glaring at him.
“What about my phone, Jimin?”
“It looks like it wants to retire. Please, for the love of all that’s good, let me buy you a phone.”
“No.” It was the only thing he had of you.
“Whyyyyy do you love that phone so much, hyung? Our enemies would think our business is not doing good that you cannot even buy yourself a phone!”
Yoongi just shrugged his broad shoulders before walking out of the police line and through the busy market. He nodded at the policemen as they acknowledged him. His watchful eyes observed the chipper attitude of the marketgoers, chatting among themselves. He wondered how people could wake up this early and yet looked so alive. He hadn’t felt alive since that night. However, he thought that had you been here, it wouldn’t matter. Nothing would. He would wake up at an ungodly hour for you.
He could hear Jimin chatter beside him as they navigated their way out of the busy street when it happened. Until it all turned into a white noise when it happened.
When he saw you.
He halted his brisk walk, his eyes following as you walked away yet again from him.
 For a brief moment, he believed your eyes met. For a brief moment, he felt his heart beat again. Yet, your eyes seemed to hold no recognition for him as it only passed through him. You didn’t even stop. It was as though he was merely a stranger.
On the other hand, he thought that you looked different, but he knew in his dead heart that it was you.
Or was it his mind finally crumbling on him, reveling on his insanity?
He blinked once and you were gone.
Jimin, suffice to say, was shocked as his hyung ran back. He never saw him moved that fast, uncaring of the people who he would runover from his haste. His dark coat trailed behind him as he moved, a touch of desperation evident, compelling Jimin to reluctantly trail after him. Yoongi forcefully cleared a path, parting the crowd with determined strides. His singular focus was on reaching you, leaving his mind devoid of any other thoughts.
It was you, he was sure. It was his angel.
He was almost sure.
But when he reached where he saw you last, you weren’t there.
Jimin was breathless when he finally reached his hyung who was looking around the crowd like a lost child. His hands were on his waist as his desperate eyes searched for…who, exactly?
“What happened, hyu-“
“It was her, Jimin-ah. I saw her.”
He blinked, following his hyung’s shifting gaze. “Who?”
“My angel. She’s alive."
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Latibule 2.II
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liveyun · 6 months
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kitty’s home.
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⊹ liveyun reads, 2023 (: !! yoongi ver.
— ⊹ joon and seokjin’s library
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hello and welcome back to my library, only that once again i’ve failed to organise all the yoongi fics i’ve read so far 😭👍🏽
as always, if possible, your feedbacks to the authors are always appreciated and welcome. but once again, only if it's possible!
most of these fics are rated M, and abiding by the author's wishes, you have to be 18+ in order to read them. however, i’m not responsible for the content you consume online, hence, reader's discretion is adviced.
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[ ♪ ] : series | [ ★ ] : favorites | [ a ] : angst | [ f ] : fluff
[ s ] : smut | [ c ] : comedy
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⊹ moonlit throne by @hobidreams ( 68k, ♪, s, a, f ) ★ 👑
ALL TIME FAVORITE YOONGI FIC.
⊹ heaven's winter by @jksangelic (18.6k, a ,s, f) ★ ☁️🏔️
⊹ matilda by @babystrcandy ( 70k+, ♪, a, s, f ) ★ 🌼
⊹ desolate by @angelicyoongie ( 52k+ ♪ , s, a, f) ★ 🐱
⊹ the mark of yun-ki by @ladyartemesia ( 8.6k, a,s,f) ★ 👑
⊹ the early shift by @hobidreams ( 21.4k, ♪ , s, a, f ) ★ ☕
⊹ monachopsis by @personasintro ( 50k+, ♪, s, a, f ) ★ 🤰
⊹ love lockdown by @personasintro ( 63k+, ♪, s, a) ★ 🧟
⊹ technologically in love by @jungshookz ( 24k, a, s, f ) ★🤖
⊹ hellish by @jungshookz ( 22.1k+, s, a,f, c ) ★ 😈
⊹ purr-haps i like you by @taleasnewastime ( 11k, f ) ★🥺
⊹ belong by @ahundredtimesover ( 99.4k+ ,♪, f, s, a ) ★ 🏀
⊹ first and last always by @floralseokjin ( s, a, f ) ❄️
⊹ swing life away by @aphrodijin ( s, a, f ) 🤰
⊹ vexed by @taleasnewastime ( 34.5k, s, a, f ) 🎬
⊹ nephoria by @taegicity ( 14k+, ♪,s, a ) ★ 🦇
⊹ first love, last love by @kithtaehyung ( 35k+, a, s, f) 🎹
⊹ auburn skies by @persphonesorchid ( 12k, a, s, f, c ) ★🤫
⊹ no signal by @latenightdecaf (13k+ , a, f ) 🎤
⊹ so close by @namfinessed (13k+, a, f) ★💔.. ❤️🩹
⊹ divorce by @xjamlessparkx (30k+, ♪, a, f ) 💔..❤️🩹
⊹ give it to me by @ki-yomii ( 1.6k, s ) 💥
⊹ perks of being a househusband by @sunnebeam (3k+,♪,f) ★
⊹ strike a cord by @snackhobi ( 18.5k, s) 🎹
⊹ desecrate by @hamsterclaw (2.1k, s) 😈👼
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p.s : if there's any fic which is a series and is on hold/haven't been updated since a long time, don't be an ass and pester the author about it. be patient and wait! we all have our own reasons and most importantly, a life.
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also.. if u wanna check out my works pls do here lol
( self promo 😀? 👎🏽)
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