#min yoongi imagine
Text
Contracted Love ~ MYG
WORD COUNT: 7.1K
GENRE: CEO AU, marriage contracts, blackmailing, fake dating, fake marriage, falling love and realising you’re scared, (might actually be my fav piece)
PAIRING: Yoongi X Fem!Reader
⤜Copyright: © DreamEscapesWriting - March 2024
⤜MASTERLIST
As Yoongi began to walk through the bustling heart of the city he couldn't stop his mind from wandering back from the meeting he had just left and he didn't know whether to laugh or cry at what had happened.
It had been his grandfather's will reading, something that heartbreaking in and of itself but what was getting to Yoongi more was the stipulation that came along with his portion of the will.
"It is not my wish for you to end up like me, old, alone and afraid of love."
Was that the piece of paper read, his grandfather was giving him strict orders to follow if he had any chance of getting his grandfather's portion of the company he owned and he needed it.
There was no way it could go to his father's side of the family, the vultures as his grandfather called them. They only hung around him long enough to know that they were going to be put into the will and didn't want to know his grandfather any other time. But it was all stupid. In order to collect his portion he had to be married and have a child all within a year.
A man who had hardly dated before was supposed to married and have a child within twelve months if he wanted any chance of keeping his company alive. Now Yoongi could have sworn he heard the ticking of a clock in the back of his mind as a constant reminder that he hadn't got much time.
"Please, I promise I can get it for you by the end of the week if you just give me some more time!" A voice pleaded, interrupting his thoughts and making him freeze on the sidewalk wondering what was unfolding in front of him.
"I've heard this a million times, Yn, I'm sick of hearing it." A male said, angrily staring down at you as you whimpered a little. He was your landlord Richard and he had just served you with an eviction notice for your business.
"Pages & Aromoa's will be a hit in no time and you'll have all the money I owe you." You sniffled but Richard handed you the piece of red paper and walked away, ignoring your begging and driving off.
"Fucking cunt," You hissed before heading inside of the door.
Yoongi stared up at the cafe sign it was basically falling apart but it was easily readable. The brick walls of the cafe had patches of Ivy clinging to the surface as if trying to breathe life into the ageing structure. The windows were slightly grim but offered a glimpse into the warmth inside that awaited anyone walking by.
The cafe was nestled between two giant skyscrapers, one of which belonged to Yoongi but he'd never even noticed the cafe before. Sighing to himself he wondered if this was the cafe his grandfather had been boasting about before he had died and he found himself walking inside. The bell above the door sounded as he did so but you were nowhere to be seen.
"I'll be just a minute," Your voice called out. Despite the outside appearance of the building, Yoongi was pleasantly surprised when he walked inside. The interior was a sanctuary of tranquillity and refinement. Polished hardwood floors gleamed under the soft glow of vintage bulbs that were casting a warm ambience in the cafe. The perfect place to hide away and work or even read which was something that clearly happened here.
There were shelves lining the walls, stretched from floor to ceiling, the books all looked used and loved. Plush armchairs and cosy reading nooks were all over the place, offering a place for someone to lose themselves in the pages of a good book or work in silence. It was obvious why his grandfather had loved this place and had been talking about it for months.
"Stupid, machine." Yoongi heard you grumbling as you finally came up from behind a counter and smiled warmly in his direction. The smile that sent a warmth throughout his chest he suddenly felt guilty about having.
"What can I get you? And please, don't say coffee because the press is broken and the machine won't work," You pleaded with him, Yoongi's mouth opened to say something but he found himself unable to speak, struck by something he didn't understand. His chest was fluttering and his stomach was in knots, he didn't know what was happening.
"Oh! Are you deaf? I know some sign language but I can write stuff down if it's easier." Before Yoongi had a chance to protest you were beginning to sign to him, something he didn't even understand himself but he was pretty sure you'd gotten it wrong.
"Can I get some tea?" He didn't know what was going on with his stomach but his grandfather always told him that tea solved most issues. Something warm to settle a raging stomach.
"Sure! I have a whole selction-" You were about to list off the extensive list you had when Yoongi shook his head,
"Early grey would be fine, with Milk."
"To go?" You arched a brow at him, most people that came in dressed the way he was got all of their orders to go. You knew the type he was, a businessman, too busy to learn the name of the place they were in but were loyal to it, it was nice.
"Erm," Yoongi glanced around and then down at his watch. He wasn't due back at work for another hour or so,
"I'll stay," He smiled at you and you nodded, pointing around the shop for him to sit anywhere he wanted. It wasn't like it was going to get busy anytime soon and your regular customer you'd had for a few months had suddenly stopped coming recently.
"Sure, make yourself comfortable." You gestured around the room and Yoongi stayed frozen in place,
"Don't you need my name for the order?" Yoongi countered you smirked a little at him.
"Because it'll get lost in the sea of customers?" You asked sarcastically, laughing nervously at the end,
"I guess that's true." He chuckles a little, and for the first time in a long time it feels like a genuine laugh from him, something he hadn't done for a long time
"He died?" Your voice was so sympathetic as soon as Yoongi told you about his grandfather, Rath, who had been your most loyal and regular customer. The two of you had been discussing your business for a while and you'd mentioned to Yoongi about having to close down soon if you weren't picking up in business.
"I wondered why he stopped coming by," You slowly sank down in the armchair opposite Yoongi and he smiled sadly down at the cup of tea in his hands.
"Were you close to my grandfather?" You weren't close with the man but he'd been coming in every day it felt like you were friends.
"I wouldn't say close but we did talk a lot whenever he was here, he loved you." You smiled, Rath had spoken so much about Yoongi that you felt as though you knew him but he hadn't been at all what you were expecting.
You'd expected some small, nerdy-looking guy but Yoongi was the opposite, he was built well, dressed in the finest of suits and looked as though he could be in the pages of magazines.
"I have a proposition for you." He suddenly said. Yoongi wasn't blind, he could see the business was going under and he knew you needed him as much as he needed you.
"Which is?" You laughed a little, looking up at the time and then back to Yoongi. The two of you had been sat talking for almost two hours now and still not a single other person had come in, which hadn't gone unnoticed by Yoongi, who was already concocting a plan in his mind.
"I need to get married." He said bluntly.
"And I need your help to do it." You held back the urge to laugh as you stared at him, you weren't sure what his grandfather had told him but you didn't know anyone in the market at the minute.
"Unfortunately I'm not sure I'm your girl, I can't help."
"But you can. You see, I have a lot of money and you need a lot of money." You knew that already, the Min family were richer than rich, one of the richest families in the world.
"What makes you think I NEED money?" You were trying to play it close to your chest, but it was true. You were desperate for money, your coffee machines were broken and you were behind on four months worth of rent.
"Yn, let's be real, your business is going under and I can help. I can keep you afloat or make you a huge success, whatever you want I can do that." As amazing as that sounded you still didn't know anyone that would be willing to just randomly get married to him,
"But I don't know anyone that wants to be married." You shook your head but Yoongi smirked at you,
"You can marry me," The words registered in your brain and you bit back the urge to laugh in his face.
"Are you insane?" You added a nervous laugh at the end and stood up, moving away from where he was sitting but he was quick to follow you.
"I have a lot of influence, I can easily make this place well known." He told you with a giant smile, your hands nervously tugged at the cleaning rag in your hand and you stared at him.
"Just for marrying you?"
"Just marrying me. All fake, no one would have to know we're not really together," Shit like this didn't happen in real life, only in books and really bad film adaptations, there had to be a catch.
"What do you get out of this? Why do you need a wife so badly?" Was this something he did on a regular? Ask random women to marry him and then never follow through with all of his promises.
"If I get married, I can collect my grandfather's part of the company but I need a wife." He was going to ignore the child part until absolutely necessary, he was sure there was a way out of that.
"Why wouldn't he leave it to you?" You frowned, Rath had seemed so sure of Yoongi, you were positive he would have left his Grandson something.
"He doesn't want me to end up alone," Yoongi admitted, your heart breaking a little as you remembered Rath mentioning he wished he'd never divorced Yoongi's grandmother,
"Oh."
"You'd get your business up and running, booming, I'd get half of the company away from my vultures of a family and everyone will be happy." You'd heard stories of the other side of Yoongi's family, stories from Rath and things you'd read about in the media.
"Okay...But there have to be some rules in place...A contract?"
"Agreed," Yoongi glanced down at his watch and bit his lip, he was already late for a meeting but that didn't matter.
"Come up to my office tonight, give your name to security and they'll bring you up. We'll work out a contract and hash out all of the details." He smiled warmly at you and you somehow believed him that all of this was going to work.
"My business will be fixed if I do this, right?"
"I promise." He breathed out before rushing out of the door, your heart racing at the thought of all of this becoming true. You glanced down at your outfit before cursing yourself, you were dressed in clothes with holes and your apron was torn to pieces.
"New outfit," You mumbled, heading to the door and locking it up. If you were going to go into business with Yoongi then you wanted to look the part.
"Come in," Yoongi called as he heard a small tapping at his office door, the day had gone on for longer than he'd liked and he was looking forward to writing out the contract and heading home for the night.
"Mr Min, Yn is here." His assistant announced before shutting the door, Yoongi slowly glanced up from his desk and his eyes almost popped out of his head.
He had been expecting you in the same scraps of clothes you had worn this morning but instead, you were dressed in a black pencil skirt and a red silk top that was unbuttoned to show just enough cleavage.
"Is this okay? It's the only thing I had left from my office days," You laughed nervously when you noticed him staring at you a little longer than he had done that morning.
"It's-It's erm, perfect." His voice stuttered and cracked as he stared at you. He had no idea that you could look this way and now he suddenly felt as though he was out of his depth.
"Please sit," He gestured to the seat in front of his desk before grabbing two bottles of water and sitting back down. By now you'd gotten out a worn leather-bond book from your bag and smiled.
"Let's get straight to it," You said, your tone businesslike yet hidden with a little humour. Yoongi smiled to himself, preparing his own notepad.
"We need some rules in place, so nothing is blurred along the way." He stated simply.
"Your business will be my number one priority during all of this. We'll sit down with a bookkeeper and organise your bills as well as figure out anything that's owed." You suddenly felt your chest tighten, you were in a massive amount of debt. Yoongi had already gone into research mode when he got home and knew everything you needed to pay off.
"T-That might be a lot. Are you sure you're up for it?" You hated that you were in so much debt, when you'd ventured out alone to own your own place you'd been so sure it would be great you could pay it back in no time.
"No issue, I assure you, I didn't become the CEO Of Min Media but shying away from challenges." Your debt wouldn't even cause a dent in his savings but he wasn't going to tell you that and make you feel bad about it.
"That means a lot...Thank you," You smiled warmly, the smile sent his stomach into knots once again, he really wanted to see someone about that.
"We need to keep everything strictly professional." You finally stated, looking up from your notepad and back at Yoongi who was, once again, staring at you.
"Agreed." He jotted it down on the notepad.
"Secondly, we can't tell anyone it's not real. It's imperative to me we keep everything hidden. We keep up a genuine illusion to appease my family and the shareholders." He told you, if anyone found out this was all fake he'd most likely lose his shareholdings as well as be the laughingstock of the media world.
"Agreed." You wrote it down, and Yoongi eyed you up. You'd been quiet about your family finding out and it worried him a little. He didn't want you to go around telling anyone it was fake, it would only take one slip-up for the world to know.
"What about your family?"
"What about them?" You asked, staring up at him with a blank expression on your face, Yoongi frowned.
"You can't tell them the truth." He reminded you and you nodded, your lips in a line as you shrugged your shoulders a little.
"Not a problem, I haven't spoken to them in almost four years since I went out on my own to own a cafe."
"Understood. We must present as a united front," He stared at you. His heart felt heavy at the thought of your family ignoring you for following your dreams.
"We will have to attend social events together, support each other publicly and appear as a happy married couple at all times." You nodded at him.
"I can handle that." It was no big deal, you'd get to dress fancy for a while and it would be fun,
"Living arrangements?" Yoongi wrote down and then stared at you,
"Well, I currently have a place in the lower part of Seoul, you're more than welcome to come and live with me," You teased only to be met with widened eyes.
"That was a joke Yoongi," You clarified with a small laugh,
"You can move in with me." He stated plainly, you frowned at him. As much as you hated your place you weren't sure moving in with him was the best idea.
"Is it necessary though?"
"Yn, once we're seen together you'll never get peace...People will want to know why a soon-to-be-married couple are living separately." You knew he was right, there would be too many questions and you didn't want to have to deal with them,
"Okay."
"I'll arrange a moving van for you tomorrow." He smiled, writing down on a sticky note to remind himself once the two of you were done.
"Can I suggest one more?"
"Sure." He looked up at you, expecting something about asking to be paid, or for more than you were getting out of it. All of which he was willing to do if it meant getting what he needed out of you.
"No falling in love. It's a business arrangement and any romantic feelings that may develop should be ignored." Yoongi was taken back but nodded his head at you.
"Of course. We have a deal." He smiled shaking your hand across the table.
With a sense of determination, you added a final clause to your contract: Yoongi would take over the financial management of Pages & Aromas, ensuring its stability and prosperity while also shouldering the burden of its debts.
"We will be announcing our marriage this weekend, it'll be held here. In the meantime, I'll pay your rent for the cafe," He stated as you both signed along the pieces of paper, Yoongi took them both into his grasp and filed them in his drawer his eyes lingering over the clause about not falling in love.
"I'd like it if you didn't work for a few months if that's okay?" He suggested, staring at you as you frowned.
"We can fix up the shop a little, have it redone to your specifications and then announce it as a grand opening."
"What am I supposed to do in the meantime?"
"You can do whatever you want, money is no issue."
"It is for me."
"We'll be married, what's mine...is yours," He stated before laying down a black card in front of you.
"Yoongi, it's already enough you're helping my business I can't take your money too." The statement was shocking, everyone Yoongi knew was always after his money, it was why he'd never dated in the past.
"Fine. But please keep it, you can use it as an emergency card, or if you need an outfit for an event...it's yours," He told you as you flipped the card over, already finding your name inscribed on it, had he been so sure about all of it since this morning?
"Okay. Fine."
"I'll have Alan drive you home and I'll see you tomorrow at my place." He smiled warmly at you as you got up from the chair, feeling a little overwhelmed with everything but nodding your head.
With a sense of nervousness mingled with excitement, you stepped into Yoongi's luxurious penthouse apartment. Your final box had been taken up by a group of men and you were unsure of what you were supposed to do now. You walked through the door, slipping off your shoes before your eyes widened at the opulence that surrounded you. The spacious living area was adorned with sleek modern furniture and tasteful artwork while floor-to-ceiling windows offered sweeping views of the city skyline below. You could practically see all of Seoul from up here, how did he get anything done? You knew you'd find yourself people-watching more than you should.
Taking a deep breath to steady your nerves, you set about unpacking your belongings, your mind racing with thoughts of the new chapter that lay ahead. As you sorted through boxes and arranged your stuff in their designated places, you couldn't shake the feeling of being out of place in such a lavish environment.
"Mr Min will be late this evening, he said to make yourself at home," Alan, who had driven you home the night previous, said with a warm smile on his face. But how were you supposed to do that? You didn't know what you were and weren't allowed to do or even where to go. Did he have rooms off-limits to you? More questions flooded your mind but as the afternoon waned into evening, you found solace in the familiar routine of preparing dinner, the rhythmic chopping of vegetables and the sizzle of food cooking on the stove grounding you in the present moment.
You'd always loved cooking, you were hungry and determined to make a good impression on Yoongi. Even going as far as to make your famous cake no one could say no to it.
By the time Yoongi arrived home, the apartment was filled with the tantalizing scent of home-cooked food and freshly baked treats. Stepping through the door, he was greeted by the sight of you bustling about the kitchen, a warm smile gracing your lips.
"Welcome home," You said, your voice infused with genuine warmth, something Yoongi hadn't had the pleasure of hearing in years. His eyes lit up with surprise and appreciation as he took in the scene before him.
"You've been busy," he remarked, a note of amusement in his voice as he watched you carefully. You shrugged modestly, a warm feeling spreading onto your cheeks.
"I wanted to do something nice for you. Dinner will be ready soon, and I made cake." Yoongi's smile widened as he crossed the room to envelop you in a grateful hug.
"Thank you, Yn. You didn't have to do all this." You were in shock at the hug at first, your heart thumping as you tried not to overthink it. He was just grateful for the food. You smiled a little, returning the embrace, a sense of contentment settling over you.
"I know. But I wanted to." You admit before going to set everything down on the table ready to eat.
It had been almost a week since the news had broke that you and Yoongi were going to be married and he'd been right. People followed you EVERYWHERE. You'd gone grocery shopping two nights after the news was released and you'd been followed by men with cameras, all of them screaming questions at you. Luckily you and Yoongi had already come up with a story for you both, something easy to remember. You'd met because of his grandfather and it had almost been love at first sight.
Tonight though you were at a restaurant together, your hands linked on the table as you stared lovingly at one another. All of it feels a little too real for you.
"Tell me something about you that I wouldn't find in a magazine or news article." You begged Yoongi. Since moving in with him you'd done extensive research on him, wanting to be prepared in case any of his crazy family members tried to doubt the two of you.
Yoongi stared at you, hesitating for a moment as he thought about it. He was torn between the desire to open up to you and betraying your agreement but the look in your eyes made it hard to resist.
"Well, I've always loved astronomy," He confessed, his eye staring down at the glass feeling suddenly vulnerable.
"There's something about the vastness of the universe that puts everything into perspective." Your eyes lit up with interest, finally, something about him that wasn't run-of-the-mill CEO shit.
"That's beautiful," You whispered,
"I've always been drawn to the stars as well." You admit, the two of you getting lost in conversation and completely forgetting about the many people snapping photos of you together. Yoongi let himself open up to you more, finding himself falling in a freefall for you. His head reminded him of the agreement you'd made together, no falling in love and he couldn't risk jeopardizing everything.
"Why haven't you spoken to your family?" He suddenly found himself asking over dessert, your fork freezing midway to your mouth as your throat suddenly ran dry.
"They decided they didn't want me to ruin their family name,"
"But you were following your dreams, shouldn't that be something they were proud of you for doing?" He didn't understand how someone couldn't support the person they loved in everything that they did.
"The Score family don't follow dreams, they crush them," Your voice was flat and dry as you placed your fork down.
"Score? As in-"
"Lawyers, the best in the business." You hissed out, you hated that all of this was being bought up but you owed it to Yoongi to tell him the truth.
"I don't speak to them, biologically I'm their daughter but legally I'm not."
"You were emancipated?" He watched you closely and you nodded your head,
"As soon as I left the company I did it myself," You admit with a smile on your face, you were proud of what you'd done. Being a lawyer had never been your dream and if the people that had raised you had it their way you'd still be another cog in the inner workings of their awful company.
"Believe me Yoongi, they have nothing to do with me-" His hand was on top of yours, rubbing over your skin in a soothing motion.
"It wouldn't bother me if they were still in your life." He promises, a weight being lifted from your chest as you let out a happy sigh.
The two of you continued to talk all night long, discovering things each other you hadn't known before and it was starting to feel like a true friendship was forming.
Months began to fly by as you and Yoongi worked on your fake relationship and countless parties you attended together, business and personal, but tonight was the one you were most nervous about. You were pacing around in the living room of the apartment waiting for Yoongi to come down and meet you. Your hands nervously played with the purse you were holding, the prospect of meeting his family tonight looming over your head like a dark cloud.
The door to the living room opened and Yoongi stepped inside, freezing when he saw you pacing around but he couldn't take his eyes off you. You were in a stunning floor-length gown, crimson colour to match his tie but it clung to your body perfectly, seeing you turned his blood to fire. You paced away from him giving him the perfect view of the back of the gown, which had a crisscrossing strap at the back, the fabric shimmering and glowing with every step you took.
"I don't know if I can do this." You admit to Yoongi once you notice him there. You'd been faking it with everyone and everyone believed you so far but were his family going to be so easy to convince?
"Your family...they're going to see right through me." Your voice trembled with uncertainty and Yoongi smiled weakly walking over to you. He was nervous himself but he wasn't going to admit it to you.
"Yn, you're stronger than you think." He told you, his hand gently reaching out and rubbing your arm.
"We'll get through tonight, together." He had no doubt the two of you could convince his family you were together, to be honest, he had a hard time convincing himself it wasn't real.
"What if they ask about our relationship and I cock the story up? What if they see through me?" He smiled down at you, running his hand over your cheek.
"We'll handle it, Yn. I won't let anything happen to you," And he meant it, if anything were to ever happen to you he knew he'd never survive it.
After months of spending every second by your side, he felt himself falling harder and harder in love with you until the point where everything was blurred except for you. All he cared about was a future with you. His words were like a lifeline pulling you back from the edge of panic, you took in a deep breath and forced yourself to focus on everything again.
"And if they don't believe us? What happens to me?" You asked, your voice tinged with apprehension.
"I'll make sure your business is taken care of, I'll not let anything happen to you but for now, let's focus on getting through tonight together." He whispers, kissing your hand softly as you feel a spark running through your veins. No matter what challenges lay ahead, you knew that as long as you faced them together, you could conquer anything that stood in your way. And with that realization, the weight of the world seemed to lift from your shoulders, replaced by a glimmer of hope.
As the two of you made your way through the entrance, all eyes turned to greet you, your presence as a couple commanding attention amidst the sea of glamorous attendees.
"They're staring." You uttered to Yoongi as he smirked, his arm wrapped around your waist as the two of you walked together, your steps synchronized in harmony. Heads turned, smiles were exchanged and greetings were offered as you passed by people.
"How could they not? You look like you stepped out of a magazine, you look beautiful." It wasn't the first compliment that Yoongi had ever paid you, in fact, you'd grown used to the compliments he'd give to you all the time. Including the small hugs and kisses the two of you would share even if you were in public, it was clear lines were starting to blur but you weren't entirely sure you minded anymore.
"Look, it's Min Yoongi and his fiancée," Someone whispered, their voice tinged with awe.
"They're a stunning couple." Her date said back to her, their eyes trailing over you both as you moved through the crowd.
"Let's give them something to talk about," Yoongi whispered but before you had a chance to ask what he was talking about he was taking you over to the dance floor.
His hand rested gently on your waist, guiding you with a tender pull as you began to move around the dance floor together, the rest of the world fading into the background.
Your movements were slow and deliberate, each steps a silent conversation between you as you swayed to the rhythm of the music. Your heart raced with every beat, your breath catching in your throat as you allowed yourself to be swept up by the magic of the moment.
"You look beautiful," Yoongi whispered, your eyes locking as you stared at one another.
"You said that already," You mumbled nervously as he smirked to himself, moving in time with you as you fell back into a comfortable silence. Not a single word needed to be uttered as you knew what was happening to you, you were falling in love with him too fast and everything was falling apart around you. You continued to dance together, neither of you daring to speak the words that lingered in the back of your head. Knowing that acknowledging your love would shatter the delicate illusion you'd worked so hard to maintain.
"So this is the lovely Yn." You turned your head to face Juliain, Yoongi's father and Yoongi wrapped his arm tighter around your waist.
"Lovely dance the two of you did, your mother made me dance shortly after." He chuckles softly but Yoongi remains deadpan and unreadable, his grip on you tightening. You'd heard about Julilan from both Rath and Yoongi and you knew the man was bad news, a slimeball only after money.
"Julilan. Lovely to see you, shame you didn't make it to grandfather's funeral, it was a lovely service." Yoongi said coldly, your eyes staring up at him. Julian had refused to go to the funeral but had gone to the reading of the will, only to see what he was entitled to.
"I have no doubt, you always knew how to throw a party." Julian laughed but your heart shattered, Rath had been an amazing man and to insinuate that a party was held for his dying instead of a grand funeral boiled your blood.
"Party? A man died-"
"Hush. You don't speak unless spoken to." Julian said in a dismissive tone, your mouth dropping open as you couldn't believe the man in front of you.
"With all due respect, sir, I am not a decoration on Yoongi's arm I am his Fiancée," You spoke clearly but Julian turned to look at his son who was now red in the face,
"I see she has no manners or concept of brains. Where did you pick her up? A brothel?" Your stomach dropped as you looked down at yourself, was he implying you looked like a whore? The woman who had dressed you tonight told you that you'd looked elegant.
"Don't." Yoongi seethed through gritted teeth,
"Women should be seen and not heard. Act like the trophy wife you are meant to be." Julian was in your face but within seconds he was shoved away by Yoongi, a smirk playing on his father's lips as he realised he was getting under his skin.
"Don't speak to my wife like that." He ordered but you pulled at his arm, you could already see people starting to stare and Yoongi didn't need the bad press.
"You're not married yet. Are you really going to cause a scene over a woman? Behave." He hissed at him, you stared at him as you waited for him to insult him one last time.
"Still just a child." He muttered, about to walk away when you finally found your voice once more.
"A child who has done more than you'll ever accomplish in your life." You hissed out at him, earning a smirk from Yoongi, he had to admit he was proud of you for not backing down from him.
"Why you little-" A hand was raised in the air but Yoongi caught it, shoving his father away from you.
"I see why you hate the man." You mumbled as Yoongi checked on you, his eyes softening once he saw you were okay.
"If he'd hurt you just then." It didn't bear to think about, he was angry, blood-curdling as he thought about the way his father had gone to strike you.
"He didn't." You whispered to him, your hand rubbing his back softly but it did nothing to calm him down right now.
"I'd kill him."
"Yoongi." You pleaded with him, but he was lost in his own anger.
"He's a disgusting piece of shit and I would have killed him." You stepped in front of him, your eyes finding his as he stared down at you in shock,
"But then I'd have no one to watch the stars with," You whispered only for his whole body to relax and he nodded slowly at you.
"Let's get some food and go out on the balcony, we can go and look at the stars and pretend Julian isn't even here," You offered to him.
Yoongi ventured off to fetch some food and you found yourself alone in the gala, looking around at everyone who was dancing together or mingling. This world was something you'd never thought you'd fit into before but after spending so much time in it, it almost felt like home.
"Ah, Yn dear, there you are." You slowly turned around to see Mia, Rath's ex-wife making her way to you with a giant smile on her face.
"I've been meaning to have a word with you," She said as she reached you, her voice gentle and a welcoming contrast compared to her son.
"Of course, Mrs Min. Is everything alright?" You eyed her up as she smiled, her eyes twinkling with mischief.
"No one's called me that in years, call me Mia." She begged, you nodded at her and slowly made your way out onto the balcony to talk better together.
"I wanted to first tell you how happy I am that Evan has found someone like you." Your eyes widened in surprise, your heart fluttering at the unexpected praise.
"T-Thank you, Mia. That means a lot to me." Mia reached out to pat your hand affectionately.
"You know, I've seen the way he looks at you. It reminds me of the way Rath used to look at me." Your breath caught in your throat at the implication of her words.
"I...I'm not sure what you mean." She chuckled softly at you,
"Oh, my dear, don't be so modest. It's written all over his face- He loves you, and I couldn't be happier for the both of you, even if you were faking it at first." You smiled weakly, your heart pounding in your chest as you struggled to process everything you'd just heard. Yoongi loved you - truly, deeply and unequivocally and that sent a surge of panic through you.
"Rath would have adored seeing you both together," Mia added before giving you an envelope.
"In my side of the will I was to give this to the beautiful girl from the cafe, now I assume that's you." You stared down at the envelope and nodded, quickly placing it into your bag to look at another time, when you weren't so stressed.
"I-I have to go," You rushed out, panic taking over you as you began to hurry through the crowded hall. Your mind was a whirlwind of confusion and fear, you loved him too but there was no way you could do this. You raced around a corner when you collided with Yoongi, sending you both sprawling to the floor.
"Yn, what's wrong?" Concern was etched in his features as he reached out to steady you. Your breathing turned tagged as you struggled to compose yourself, slowly standing up.
"I...I need to talk to you," Your voice barely came out above a whisper but Yoongi nodded, leading you to a nearby alcove away from prying eyes.
"What is it, Yn? You're shaking." He reached out to touch you and you took in a deep breath, words tumbling out in a rush as you fought to make sense of everything.
"I just spoke to your grandmother, and she...she said that you love me, Yoongi. And...I...I don't know what to do." Yoongi's expression softened as he reached out to cup your trembling hands in his, his touch sending a shiver of warmth coursing through you.
"Yn, listen to me. I know this is overwhelming but you need to understand something...you belong here with me," You stared up at him as he didn't deny falling for you, tears welling up in your eyes as you shook your head.
"I ran away from this world."
"And now you're back but I promise it'll be nothing like your family's world." He breathed out as you stared at him, his eyes boring into you,
"You belong here, with me."
` "What if you suddenly decide I'm not good enough for you? What if I can't give you everything you deserve?" Yoongi brushed a gentle thumb across your cheek, wiping away a tear.
"You're everything I need, Yn. Your love, your strength, your unwavering support - it's more than I could ever hope for. And as long as we have each other, we can face whatever comes our way." Tears began to melt away as you stared at him.
"I love you, Yoongi." You whispered, the words feeling like a weight was taken right off our chest.
"I love you, Yn, Always." He whispered.
With a soft sigh, he closed the distance between you and you leaned in slowly to him. It felt like an eternity until your lips met in a tender kiss, time seemed to stand still as you savoured the sweetness of the moment, your hearts beating in harmony as you finally surrendered to the pull of love. It was a kiss so full of tenderness and longing, of hope and promise.
When you pulled away your foreheads touched and you giggled a little.
"Let's go home, I wanna show you how much I really love you," He winks, as you squeal a little taking his hand and practically dragging him out of the party.
Months Later
"CEO'S Expecting: Min Yoongi and Min Yn Announce Pregnancy, Anticipate The New Heir To The Legacy?" You read out the title of the "Webber Files" newspaper and stared over at Yoongi with a blank expression.
"I see why their paper sucks," You grumbled, folding it up and staring at your husband who hadn't been able to take his eyes off you.
"Don't look at me like that, the last time you looked at me like that, this happened!" You stated, pointing down at your baby bump and whining at him.
"But we had fun," He wiggled his eyebrows at you and sat down beside you on the sofa, the two of you curling up together on a lazy Saturday morning.
"We did," You giggled as he ran his hand over your bump, smiling happily to himself. Not long after you found out you were expecting Yoongi told you the other stipulation about getting his grandfather's portion of the company and that was a child but you couldn't have been happier it was happening.
"Julian will flip a lid." You laughed at the thought of his father finding out about his son having a child but more importantly, you couldn't wait for him to figure out he was getting nothing in the will besides a small shop in the middle of nowhere.
"Oh, I meant to say. Gran asked if you'd looked into the envelope yet. Whatever that means," He frowns and you reach out for your bag, opening it up to find the envelope still sitting there.
As you took it out and opened it you couldn't believe what you were reading.
"By now I assume Yoongi and yourself are together and knowing My Mia she would have given this to you at the appropriate time, but enclosed are the deeds to your cafe. All yours, all paid for, as well as the number to my lawyer who will arrange for you to inherit some money as an investment to you and your dream.
Best Wishes,
Rath,"
You and Yoongi stared at one another, laughing a little as you realised Rath had been planning your get-together for a very long time.
@chiisaiblog@sw33tnight@kaitieskidmore97@laylasbunbunny@tinyoonsblog@whitefoxgirl@katnisspeetaprim@acciocriativity@choisoorin@heyjiminnie@btsiguess-kpop@halesandy@gothic4under4lord@soulphoenix1618@aerastus@jin-from-the-block@lenfilms@elizaschuyler18@piratequeen-impact @Namgiswifey@delulu18@xyahrinx@katsukis1wife@anthropologymajorkpopmultistan@blairscott@4-chan-inpadella@swga-ficrecs@niktwazny303@armystay89@myyouthdonut@xakx@kittymaryam-thebrowniefairy@kpopmenace143@loveforred@b1nn1e-1s-cut3@elissasimp
#bts#bts x reader#bts imagine#bts imagines#yoongi#yoongi x reader#yoongi imagine#yoongi imagines#min yoongi#min yoongi x reader#min yoongi imagine#min yoongi imagines#suga#suga x reader#suga imagine#suga imagines
1K notes
·
View notes
Text
fail-safe (3)
pairing: yoongi x reader
wordcount: 14k
glimpse: you hear everything you've ever wanted, but you don't know if it's too late.
alternatively, yoongi is consumingly yours all the time.
[ part one, intermission, part two, intermission 02, finale ]
[ still angst (but u can breathe now bc it’s the finale), brother’s best friend AND single dad au, jealousy, yearning from all angles, did i say angst alr (mom-wise and brother-wise), fluff, redemption ]
notes: this is it for the chronological series of fail-safe :-) from the bottom of my heart thank you so sooooo much for reading n loving!!! sharing fs with the lot of u is an experience (and era) i'll never forget!!!
as always, lmk what you think <3 send in feedback n love to my askbox anytime!! | series masterlist
Your trip back home isn’t as rough as you expected it to be.
Somehow, there’s a huge difference between coming home alone and coming home with Jungkook. There’s an irreplaceable weight in your chest that still flares even at the mention of Yoongi, the anger you have towards him mixing with the trepidation of holding everything in you, not just him, for another three days. There’s an angry rash around your fingertips just waiting for you to pick on your nails until they’re raw because atleast in that way, you get to forget the way Yoongi’s hand picked up yours in the dark.
There’s an ache in you that not even Yoongi and Hyewon could undo by never having met in the first place. It’s long been there, perhaps even older than Haneul. The ache of unfulfillment in you is bred by everything significant in your life — all from your first argument with your mom because of your lack of direction in life, to your latest heartbreak that keeps manifesting into your first ever.
You're no longer angry recounting the fact that you weren't destined for greatness. Namjoon turned out beyond great, world-renowned even, despite living in the same home that you did. Maybe it's not your environment or your lack of a passion that hindered you — maybe, it's just you alone.
Maybe, some part of you had ached too much from reaching (read: loving) too far up, you're doomed to live the rest of your life unfulfilled. Yoongi's never been yours, but the way your heart withdraws from him is as if he's always been.
You've done your share. You've completed your fill. You've worked yourself to the bone to make anything (not something, and certainly not everything) out of yourself that even if you're not decorated in sports like Namjoon nor celebrated in music like Yoongi, you have a fail-safe to fall back on.
You're earning more than the white collars you could recognize from your old yearbook and even if it's to look after someone, to look after Jungkook and his craft, and neither use your actual degree nor make a name out of yourself — a part of you feels fulfilled.
If being fulfilled meant being in the shadows as a manager; if it meant caring for someone in a professional context yet in a way you've always known with practice, with love, through the years– you'll take it.
You'll take the peace of being fulfilled without a trophy than to be listless trying to compete for first place.
You're fulfilled now to be sitting at the passenger seat of your own car because despite having never been to your place anymore, Jungkook fought with you in order to get his hands on the wheel.
You're fulfilled now, even if you only took Jungkook's silly suggestion (read: insistence) of fake-dating him just so you wouldn't have to face your family and Yoongi alone. You're fulfilled despite having no real place in neither men's lives.
Oddly enough, Jungkook wants to be both. He wants to be fulfilled and compete for first place in a position in your life that he can't even say to your face.
Jungkook holds you right in the middle of the living room, his eyes wide and grin sparkling as if the director had already said action! and the task for him was to act out what being in love looked like, right in front of his female lead's family in her childhood home. (Read: he isn't acting at all.)
“And he’s…?” your mom lets the question hang in the air, eyes trailing from Jungkook’s face, to his bicep, to how his forearm fits snugly against your back and his hand curls around your waist. Your mom visibly looks surprised, although you don’t know if it’s about the fact that you actually came back despite everything, or if it’s because her favorite actor is in her kitchen while she’s sweaty in an apron, or if it’s because said favorite actor leaves no space between the two of you.
“Jeon Jungkook, ma’am. It’s nice to finally meet you,” he greets politely, a little jittery now that he’s face-to-face with her. He’s only heard of the woman she is from you and as much as he tried to picture her from memory, your stories don’t do her much justice. Jungkook’s always loved your kind eyes and your sweet smile, but he knows now where you’ve got it from; in fact, if he turns around right now right after shaking her hand and bowing profusely, you’re showing exactly those to him — that, along with a pair of gazes he can’t place.
Those gazes aren’t kind at all. One is confused and dumbfounded, and the other harbors nothing but hostility and anger.
“Sweetheart, I know you. Who doesn’t?” your mom’s at a loss for breath, mouth still agape as she keeps flickering her eyes between the two of you. She knows that you’re his manager, but what she doesn’t know is why the Jeon Jungkook is in her humble kitchen of all places. He has the most expressive and sincere eyes ever — he can’t possibly mistake your childhood home as a filming set and your waist as a hand rest.
You finally placate her thoughts when you speak, the loaded silence between the three of you (it’s buzzing with tension if you account for the other two) breaking. You actually giggle, your laughter taking the load off her shoulders because you’re happy; you don’t feel an ounce of guilt even if you’re lying to her face.
“We’re dating, mom,” you grin. “Jungkook’s my boyfriend.”
Jungkook smiles automatically, feeling your hand snake towards his own. His palm’s much bigger than yours yet it’s warmer than you’ve ever imagined, the envelope both of your hands make putting you at ease.
Your mom’s gasp bounces across the walls. Namjoon’s head that’s only been lowered the entire time you’ve been back suddenly whips to look at you and Jungkook. The fridge even lowers its hum to make way for the theatrics aimed at you, yet your eyes are fixed on your mom’s and Jungkook’s alone.
You came home for her and with him. You’re not here for anyone nor anything else because it’s merely a play for your survival, only this time, Jungkook’s hellbent on increasing your odds.
Yoongi freezes evidently, hand tightening around Haneul’s bottle as if it would do anything to release the red from his vision. He staggers silently, breathing suddenly ragged as he stares down at the offending steel cylinder. It’s small. Compact. If anything, he figures it would hurt if he were to throw it at anything. Anyone. Someone, even.
“Wow, that’s.. that’s amazing!” she embraces the both of you, making you and Jungkook share a gaze you only laugh through because he actually looks honored.
“Thank you, ma’am. I’m sorry I haven’t had the time to let you know personally,” he apologizes meekly for a mistake that isn’t even one in the first place, the humility in his tone making your ears perk. It’s Jungkook onceagain with the apologies towards you that he shouldn’t be making at all, and yet, even in front of your family, he persists.
Jungkook apologizes even for the things he hasn’t done, not because he plans on doing them, but because a large part of him wants to be in the actual situation wherein those mistakes were merely possibilities.
“It’s no problem at all. You’re busy getting all these awards, I know how that’s like,” she jokes, unable to stop smiling. “I’m just glad someone’s taking care of my baby.”
“And I don’t plan on missing a single day, ma’am.”
“Stop that,” she chides, shaking her head eagerly. “You can call me mom.”
Yoongi lets the bottle clatter to the sink.
( ♡ )
Yoongi hadn’t been able to sleep last night.
He’d woken up in a cold sweat hours before his alarm was supposed to go off to cook dinner for everyone, even if it was only yourfavorite. The anxiousness that bubbled in his veins when he was asleep was going to burst and while Yoongi thought nothing of it initially, he realizes in panic that it was actually pointing to something.
He woke up next to Haneul and he was placated momentarily, but the knot tied around his heart tightens twofold when he sees Hyewon on the same bed.
On your bed.
The guilt that filled Yoongi then was enough for the bile to creep up into his throat, making him stagger outside to find Namjoon pacing right outside of his own bedroom. His personal phone’s tucked in between his ear and his shoulder, his hands preoccupied scrolling through whatever it is on his work phone. Yoongi momentarily stops his panic to inquire why the hell Namjoon’s panicking and why did he just see a glimpse of your social media accounts pulled up to the screen, your following list staring your brother in the eyes.
“What? What happened? Is it Y/N?”
Namjoon only looked at him with nothing but pity and guilt, the resentment he had for himself bleeding through the way he shifted his gaze to him.
“She saw you and Hyewon.”
Yoongi hadn’t been able to sleep since.
He didn’t even blink when Hyewon thanked him and said her goodbyes. He wasn’t even fazed when his ex-wife kissed Haneul goodbye and his son only resumed playing with his blocks. Yoongi hadn’t even tended to himself throughout the entire night, surrendering himself to be awake in your couch in the far event that you’d come home.
Yoongi wanted to follow you home, except almost exactly similar to the past, he had chased you out of what’s supposed to be your own home in the first place. The difference now was that he didn’t mean for Hyewon to be on your bed at all, let alone your room, but in the back of Yoongi’s thick skull — he figures that it won’t be enough for you.
Yoongi waits for you all night throughout the morning like a loyal dog waiting for its master, his chest rising up and down in hope yet his chin down in despondence. You do end up coming back home though, but your presence is neither unaccompanied nor for him.
With you is Jeon Jungkook, your boyfriend.
If only Haneul hadn’t asked for his bottle to be brought upstairs because he’s watching cartoons on Yoongi’s laptop, he would’ve collapsed on the floor then and there, uncaring of the way everyone else would be looking down on him.
If only Namjoon’s gaze wasn’t flitting to him to gauge his reaction because it’s the first time he’s, or by everyone else rather, hearing that you have a boyfriend, Yoongi would put his hands on his head and curse until his piercing migraine suddenly disappears.
If only your mother wasn’t here, frozen in the kitchen mostly because of what you just revealed and who you came home with, and partly because she’s waiting for him to finish washing Haneul’s bottle, he would’ve thrown up right in the sink.
Yoongi gathers all his pain and keeps it shut within himself until he gets you alone, catching you by the staircase when everyone else has dispersed.
“I’m sorry. Namjoon told me what you saw and-…” he stops himself when you look up at him with an innocent yet empty gaze, the weight of it (or lack thereof) startling him. “Let me explain why Hyewon was there in your bed.”
“I don’t want to listen,” you enunciate clearly, keeping your voice down because both Jungkook and Haneul are a few steps away. You do it for their sake and not for Yoongi’s, the bitterness in your chest physically restricting you to think about his state.
Yoongi pushes on, breath already catching in his throat when you’re still stiff as a stone. You haven’t even made a break for it yet; he only unconsciously held onto you out of fear that you’ll be out of his sight. “She was in the area because her parents are old and they don’t know much about selling their house here a-and well, she knows that I did the same for my parents when they sold ours. Nothing happened. I just helped her with the sale! S-she was playing with Haneul in the living room while I napped a-and, I just… when I woke up, they were right next to me. Y/N, I swear, nothing-…”
You shake your head fervently, the innocence of his reason doing little to break the seal in your stomach. You feel it dropping once again and even if Yoongi’s right, even if he’s saying the truth, the sight alone of him appearing to be a part of a happy family jogs up all the pain.
“I don’t want to listen and you don’t have to explain either.”
“But I hurt you. That’s why I want to explain,” he stutters. Yoongi’s eyes are so glassy, you could see your reflection in them.
“Oh. So you know,” you whisper, teeth harshly digging into your bottom lip. “I hate Hyewon for a lot of things but not for being the mother of your child. That’s out of my reach. I get it. She’s his mom and that’s that,” you admit, the vacancy in your chest and on your ring finger reminding you what Yoongi had never given you the chance for. “What I hate is that you let her sleep in my room. Seeing Haneul in there is good. You and him? That’s okay because I let you sleep in there,” you heave, voice close to breaking because of how you force it to be tamped down. “I hate how you let her sleep in my room, Yoongi. I-I, I fucking hate it because it’s just like that time I caught you practically fucking her in my room.”
“I-I’m sorry, I didn’t-…” Yoongi sniffles, tears already pouring. The staircase in your house is far too narrow to hold the both of you, let alone your history. “I didn’t think. I didn’t notice, a-and, I didn’t think. I didn’t think at all, Y/N. I thought it was okay for a split second because we looked like-…”
“A family,” you finish for him. “I get it. I do,” you nod your head fervently, your own hand snaking to your lips to stop the sharp inhale that pains you from the inside. “Almost everyone loses their sense of reason when it comes to family.”
“I didn’t notice she already entered the room. But I-I woke up,” Yoongi still swears up and down, adamant on his truth that you aren’t open to entertaining because he’s hurt you far too many times before. “Hyewon and I… we’re not. We’re co-parenting.”
“Still a family.”
“But-…”
“What the hell do you want to hear from me, Yoongi?” you snap, voice finally toning down when you notice faint footsteps coming from the second floor. “Do you— do you want me to agree with you and say that the three of you aren’t a family? And for what, s-so that could somehow excuse you for everything you’ve done? I don’t even know what family’s supposed to mean at this point!”
From upstairs, Namjoon suppresses a sob.
“My mom doesn’t know a single thing about all of this. I-I can’t even cry to her because I’m thinking of you. I’m thinking of protecting you, your son that she looks to as a grandson, a-and even your mom who’s her best friend,” you break into tears, ignoring the baby towel that Yoongi keeps on his person all the time that he offers to you. You sound far too defeated, and maybe you actually are, that Yoongi lets you push past him. “Meanwhile, my own brother probably knows everything but his first instinct is to protect you. Not me, his actual sibling. You.”
.
.
.
Namjoon had been waiting for you upstairs. He’s been barricading the door to the bathroom because he knows you can’t go to bed without your nightly shower, and because he knows that out of every space in the house, it must be the only one left wherein you can be truly alone with no hint of Yoongi.
“We have to talk,” he gets out as soon as you make eye contact with him, the towel that’s slung on your shoulder almost falling at the urgency to which he pulls you aside.
“It can wait.”
“I need to apologize,” he pleads once again, gripping your wrist gently like he had always done when you were kids to get you to listen to him.
“And I said it can wait. I can’t stand you right now,” you grit, the tears on your cheeks barely being dried up when Namjoon, unsurprisingly, decides to apologize to you within the same timeframe as Yoongi. They hadn’t planned it at all — the guilt and remorse weighed far too heavy for them to actually communicate.
“Where will you sleep?” he asks instead, exhaling heavily because you’re insistent on not crying again in barely your first night back, again. “Where will Jungkook sleep?”
“We’ll sleep together in a hotel.”
“Hotel?” Namjoon asks loudly, eyes bulging in shock. His voice is far too loud that everyone in the house (and maybe even your neighbors) must have heard him. “That’s nonsense. This is home, Y/N. You don’t have to book a hotel.”
“It is?” you seethe, your closed fists tightening on themselves painfully. “Did you also say the same thing to Hyewon? To Yoongi in the first place?”
“It’s my fault for-…”
You’re unaware that you and Namjoon are neck to neck until your mom chimes in out of nowhere, her gentle eyes asking more questions than she’s actually uttering. “What’s going on?” she switches her gaze between you and him. “Are the two of you fighting?”
“No,” you answer in unison, unable to fit a relieved sigh in between the terse silence.
“It’s nothing, mom,” Namjoon puts a hand on your shoulder, his smile tight and tense. “I was just telling Y/N that she doesn’t have to book a hotel.”
“Why would you book a hotel?” she gasps incredulously, her tone being the exact copy of Namjoon’s just a second ago.
“It’s just crowded in here, mom. That’s all,” you muster a sheepish smile, your posture slouching the more you realize that there’s no way out.
“I can ask Yoongi and Haneul to transfer to Namjoon’s so you can-..”
“No-!” you interrupt her in a hurry, breath hitching at the mention of him. “No, no. That’s unnecessary. I don’t want to sleep in my room.”
There’s a loaded pause between all of you, even between the door that Yoongi has his back on as he listens in.
“You and Jungkook can take my room instead,” Namjoon insists, his offer only barely scratching the surface of the apology that you truly deserve.
“Great. Thanks,” you conclude, already halfway into the bathroom when the sudden thought strikes you, your curiosity (and limit, by extension) getting the best of you to ask Namjoon while your mom’s still here. “How… how much longer are they gonna stay here?”
“I… haven’t asked yet,” Namjoon admits, the animosity you have towards Yoongi not going unnoticed by your mother.
“You need to ask then,” you quip. “This house is too small to have everyone and anyone.”
( ♡ )
Jungkook woke up in peace from sleeping in a bed that isn’t his.
Even before you actually got to shower (and not just sit on the toilet seat whilst trying to compose yourself) since you forgot to retrieve your clothes from your suitcase, Jungkook was already starfished in the middle of Namjoon’s bed. It’s a touching sight atop your own blanket and bug spray that your brother put in for you.
The two of you are far from okay. As a matter of fact, the only people you’re truly okay with in the house is your mom and Haneul; despite knowing that fully, Jungkook still dived in head-first in the middle of your situation. You’ve tried to dissuade him all throughout the five-hour long car ride, and not once did he even budge.
He’s here for you and no one else. He’s snoring in the middle of your sibling’s bed whom you aren’t in good terms with. He’s at ease with you in a province that he’s never stepped foot in, all because he felt compelled to protect you somehow and wouldn’t take no for an answer.
Jungkook cares for you, enough to write a note and place it beside him just before he went to sleep, telling you that he’s a messy sleeper and to either jolt him awake to move or just manhandle him to the side so you could also sleep on the bed.
You go for the latter, trying to pry him as gently as you could (but even if you just hauled him like a sack of potatoes, he still wouldn’t wake up because he’s at ease too much; it’s you, of course) before finally calling it a night.
You may have lied awake mulling over the perpetual ache in your chest, but you didn’t cry at all.
Eventually, you fall asleep to the sound of Jungkook snoring.
.
.
.
Jungkook may have slept earlier than you, but he makes sure that you stay in late. (read: he physically tucked you into bed so snugly, you probably can’t even shift your shoulders by a centimeter). He wants to pull his weight around a house he hasn’t even been in, even if you hadn’t asked him to — you’d never do, because even as a manager and not as a fake-girlfriend, you don’t let him lift a single finger. Simply put, Jungkook feels this massive pull, not to perform for you, but serve you.
He finds himself quietly going down the stairs, still in his socks because you had stolen his house slippers just last night and he doesn’t have the heart to ask you to give them back. He’s quickly figured out the kitchen, getting a soup started before he allows himself to sit on the dining table by himself.
It turns out that Jungkook’s not alone at all.
“Hi.”
His ears perk at the soft voice that comes from the side of him, eyes immediately setting on the toddler who’s still dressed in his pajamas and has a similar case of bedhead to him.
“Hey buddy. Nice bangs,” Jungkook chuckles invitingly, pulling out a chair for Haneul to which he gets up on easily by himself.
“My appa cut them for me,” he answers with a smile, shyly pointing to Jungkook’s forehead with an eager finger. “You have bangs too. Who cut yours?”
“My girlfriend. I think she can be a hairstylist one day,” he hums, not feeling guilty over lying to him when it’s only a half, easily-corrected lie. You may not be Jungkook’s actual, real girlfriend, but you did cut his bangs when he asked you to. He couldn’t be bothered going to the salon and you didn’t have the energy to argue with him otherwise, so that’s how he ended up with choppy, viral (it only became viral because he has them) bangs that gained him a few dozen articles or so.
Jungkook doesn’t have kids of his own, but what he does have are several nephews and nieces. He’s the youngest of four children, and that’s perhaps the reason why he could empathize with you. He’s never been through what you have, and although you would never wish for him to do so, a part of him wants to know what it’s like — not because he seeks the pain, but because he wants to know how he could empathize with you better
With Jungkook being Jungkook, it’s perhaps the reason why he’s one of the gifted few people who could strike up a sensible conversation with a toddler and make them laugh without doing anything at all.
Something about Jungkook makes Haneul laugh so loudly, he wakes up almost everyone in the house in peace. Even Jungkook’s attempt at lame jokes tickle Haneul more than the way Namjoon’s ever tried in earnest to make him laugh.
You’ve already slinked past the two of them on the dining table, tending to the soup and the few hundred side dishes Jungkook started on but paused just to talk to Haneul.
“Haneul, don’t believe your uncle-…” you chime over a playful dig that Jungkook makes in your expense, the giggles that had only been filling your ears just seconds ago instantly ceasing when you notice Yoongi standing near you.
“Uncle?” he raises his brow at you, turning his attention to his son. “Haneul, what did I say about talking to strangers?”
“But he’s not a stranger. I saw him in that movie!” he frowns, the immediate awe that slips out of Jungkook’s lips not helping his case in the slightest.
“Still a stranger,” Yoongi smiles tightly, his exhale dragging out as he mulls over the eerily domestic sight of the three of you.
“But he’s Uncle Kook,” Haneul reasons with him, pointing his finger at you. “He’s auntie’s boyfriend.”
.
.
.
Yoongi’s softened a little bit since breakfast.
He was never mad at Haneul in the first place (more like halfhearted because he still stands by his lesson of not teaching him to talk to strangers, even if they’re a worldwide-famous actor, but those are not his words at all) but what he is annoyed about is the scene that he walked into.
It looked far too natural for you to look like Haneul’s mom and for Jungkook to look like him, maybe even better as a dad despite not having children at all, that he thought he was seeing red.
Haneul’s lying on his shoulder as they rewatch Bluey for the second time in the living room, the shadow of your alleged boyfriend walking past him until he registers the accent, later doing a quick turnaround that makes Yoongi ultimately irritated and Haneul more than happy.
“Oh cool. I love Bluey!” Jungkook says sincerely, inviting himself to sit on the lone sofa chair to watch the episode.
“Wow, you’re just so… quirky,” Yoongi mutters under his breath with a roll of his eyes, his snarky remark making Jungkook’s ears tingle. The latter scoffs slyly, making him finally acknowledge Jungkook, albeit sarcastically. “So what do you do, Jungkook?”
Even before he could answer though, Haneul does it for him with an excitement that only comes out whenever he’s talking about his favorites.
“We watched his movies in the cinema, appa! Remember?”
“Did we?” Yoongi narrows his eyes, playing his huff into a cough. He repurposes the tinge of embarrassment that he feels into snark, running a hand through his hair cockily. “I’d for sure remember an actor if they were good.”
( ♡ )
“Where’s your brother? I need him to do the heavy lifting.”
Your mom asks you with an urgency that parents only past the age of forty could possess, her lips already parted awaiting your response towards a question she asked just two seconds ago.
Even if you weren’t engrossed on an episode of Bluey (Jungkook and Haneul put you into it and you get their laser focus now) just now, you still wouldn’t know about your brother’s whereabouts. Yoongi saves you this time, his response piquing both yours and Jungkook’s interest.
“He’s in practice. Joon took Haneul with him so he could learn too.”
Jungkook looks up from his phone sharply, eyes wide in eagerness. He and Yoongi haven’t even looked at each other since yesterday yet their coordination (read: competitiveness) syncs with the other at the exact second, their insistence on tagging along a menial task making you jolt.
“I’ll come with, mom!”
“I’ll come with, auntie.”
It’s not a competition, yet Jungkook jumps up to stand so quickly, his head almost brushed the ceiling. “Let’s go, babe,” he holds out a hand for you, making you clear your throat as you’re still trying to gauge the situation.
“But what about Yoongi? Poor thing, he’ll be left alone,” your mom awes, her pout only deepening when Yoongi pretends to look crestfallen at being overlooked. He doesn’t have to pretend that much because despite not being the biggest fan of grocery-shopping, especially in your area because it always smelled of eggs despite barely carrying any eggs, he’ll jump at any task to impress your mom, and you by extension.
“I don’t think you should worry-…” you start, already being interrupted in an instant.
“Oh come on, Y/N. Two pairs of hands are better than one! They really have to do some heavy lifting because I forget to tell you about that one time your aunts hounded me for-…” she trails off while telling you a story about your supposedly huge extended family, blissfully unaware that there’s two men fighting to open the door for the both of you.
Yoongi’s driving his car as the most spacious option, making Jungkook snicker under his breath as he blames himself for not bringing his SUV which is clearly more expensive than whatever Yoongi’s driving, even if you elbow him lightly by the ribs because you didn’t ask him to do that.
“Mom, what are you doing here? Go sit in the front,” you nudge her, unwilling to sit next to Yoongi in an enclosed space.
“Oh, right! Sorry, I was just used to you always taking shotgun whenever Yoongi’s driving,” she squeals, fondly clapping to herself as she revisits the memory. “Do you remember that, sweetheart? You’d always fight with Namjoon because Yoongi got his license first.”
It may only be your mom who’s leaning against the center console to look at you in the back, but it doesn’t mean that Yoongi’s ever taken off his attention from you.
“I remember,” Yoongi smiles, looking at you from the rearview mirror. “I never forget.”
.
.
.
The grocery store hasn’t changed one bit.
It still smelled of eggs, the lights still aren’t as bright as they should be, and there’s still trinkets that you’ve always been swayed by being displayed near the register.
You’re taking it all in after not having been back for five years, whereas Yoongi strolls right in, but never ahead of you, as if he’s visited multiple times already since he left your town.
Your mom and Jungkook are side by side as he asks her a question you can’t even discern, only getting to know his actual agenda when you hear his sneakers skidding against the floor as he runs towards the pushcarts.
Yoongi, without even knowing the full context, runs after him because he didn’t want to come in second place for whatever it is that Jungkook’s challenging him to.
“I’ll steer the cart,” Jungkook presents definitively, his hand raised mid-air as if he’s being graded for eagerness alone. He looks like he wants to prove himself even if it’s only you and your mom present; no director, no producer in sight who sizes him up.
“No. I’ll do it,” Yoongi argues out of nowhere, his bruised hands reclaiming the cart under Jungkook’s grasp. He’s not even looking at your mom because his gaze is only fixed on Jungkook who’s just two tugs away from actually spitting at him.
“I said it first,” your pretend-boyfriend forcefully pulls the hunk of metal away from Yoongi, the latter coming along with it for the briefest of seconds before he does the same, this time with Jungkook gasping.
“What, are you method-acting for your next role as a cart-steerer?”
Your mom’s a little perplexed at the scene before her, lips parting in both concern and amusement because for a pair of people who haven’t met each other before, Yoongi and Jungkook are oddly competitive. They want to provesomething, anything, and maybe everything so bad, they neglect the fact that they look ridiculous fighting over a pushcart.
“We actually need two,“ she says to no one in particular, thinking out loud as she goes through her grocery list. “I think maybe even three because-…”
“I’ll get it,” Jungkook rushes out in panic, almost bumping into you in the process. You were only gone for a minute to retrieve your phone from the car and yet he already looks breathless, the knot between his eyebrows untangling when he realizes that it’s you. “Oh. Sorry, babe.”
“I’ll get it, Koo,” you murmur, catching the tail end of what your mom said about the pushcarts. Jungkook’s cheeks are tainted pink in frustration and you can’t help but to be concerned, the back of your hand already flitting against his forehead before you know it. “Are you okay? Sorry, the AC in here is not like the AC in the city.”
“Huh, what? Oh no, it’s okay. I just got into this heated cart argument,” he waves you off, eyes rapidly moving between you, your mom, and Yoongi who’s mirroring his exact actions, except for the glaring hint of annoyance with the way he’s standing so close to you.
“Cart argument? What’s-…”
“We need meat.”
You barely even have a chance to digest what Jungkook’s saying to you before you see him glitch right in front of you in a hurry, the only words to register clearly in your mind being your mom’s. She’s absent-mindedly talking herself through her grocery list (as she always does) and yet the two men right next to her hang onto her every word, the speed they take off on giving you no clue to why they’re acting as such.
“I’ll get it, auntie!” Yoongi gets out even before the wheels of his cart could cooperate, momentarily tripping over himself. Jungkook sputters at that, the laughter that builds in his throat being interrupted because he realizes that the other guy is ahead of him and he simply cannot bear that.
“Beef. We need beef, right, mom? How many kilos. Like… ten? Okay. I’ll get it!” Jungkook dashes even if he’s never been in this grocery store before; even if your mom hasn’t said a single word to either of them.
You’re left dumbfounded in the middle of the store, your gaze unable to locate the distinct sounds of both of their sneakers skidding against the floor.
“I didn’t even say anything,” your mom mutters in confusion, eyes flitting to you with a wonder you can’t place because even if the both of you are lost, she seems to have a better idea than you do. “Are they… competing over you, sweetie?”
“Competing? Me? Why would you even say that, mom?” you huff, leaning against the cart as you snatch her list to get the things she’s actually looking for.
“I don’t know,” she lulls, shrugging carelessly before nudging you. “Jungkook’s your boyfriend and well, I assume Yoongi’s always wanted to be in his position.”
“How did you even come to that conclusion?”
“Small town. Few people. Cute girl, cute guy,” she places, the end of her hypothesis being accompanied by a chuckle. When she says it like that, it sounds far too easy — it sounds far too seamless, you almost wish it was exactly that. “I didn’t even take the news that Yoongi was going abroad seriously because I thought it was a joke. I thought he could never move on from here or Namjoon,” your mom pouts, tilting her head when you freeze. “Much more, he could never move on from you.”
“He did,” you answer through gritted teeth, the grip you have on her list making the paper crumple underneath your hold.
Your mom doesn’t know everything. In fact, you don’t even know if she knows anything at all. You don’t despise her for her lack of involvement because you want to keep her from the chaos of your burdens, and you’ve always wanted to keep it that way.
But the way she speaks now, so full of conviction and faith, you find yourself despising it. She speaks as surely as the way Yoongi speeds past the both of you, weaving through aisles to get items she didn’t ask for, competing for and against a higher power (read: you) that Jungkook himself seeks.
She says it so surely, it’s as if she knows about every waking thought that Yoongi’s ever had in your absence.
“It doesn’t look like he did.”
You ponder over your mom’s adoration for Yoongi, most of which you can’t decipher if it’s misplaced or not. You know he’ll always have a special place in her heart and in her home because she’s known him even before he was born because she’s best friends with Mrs. Min.
Yoongi has a place in your life, no matter if it’s in your own or in the lives of the people you love. He probably has a modern penthouse in Namjoon’s life, the decoration in it improving over time. On the other hand, Yoongi probably occupies an ancestral cabin in your mom’s life that’s been well-maintained for longer than he’s ever been alive, the decor in it being handmade and resilient through the years.
In your life, however, you can’t tell how and if Yoongi occupies it in the first place. For the longest time, his place in your life had come in the form of a mansion that not even a single architect nor engineer could ever think of. For a moment too, Yoongi’s place in your heart came in the form of a little house on a vast farm overlooking the mountains and the sea. Throughout all the houses that Yoongi’s shape-shifted to in your life, you doubt now if he could ever turn into them again.
When you think of Yoongi, all you see is your room.
When you see Yoongi, all you could remember is your childhood house and its shortcomings in your life, especially when you needed to come home to it— to him, the most.
“I’ll pay, mom,” Jungkook snaps you out of your reverie, his whine making your ears ring.
“What? No, Jungkook. This is all too much,” you refuse vehemently, trying to fight him from extending his black card any further.
“It’s not. This is for your family anyway. I, I might have even grabbed extra portions for myself because mom said she’ll repeat tomorrow what she did for lunch today,” he grins, momentarily losing himself to the sight of you that he doesn’t even notice he’s in the process of being one-upped by Yoongi.
“Jungkook, baby, I’ll feel-…”
“I paid for it, auntie,” Yoongi announces, making your lips part and Jungkook’s jaw drop.
“You shouldn’t have, Yoongi,” you scold him softly, a whine already building at the back of your throat but he waves you off easily. Your mom’s thanking him profusely in the background, and while Yoongi’s pleased with the attention, his gaze remains on you.
“But I wanted to,” he insists, pursing his lips. “I should.”
“You’re not family,” is what you want to say.
“But I want to be,” is what he wants to scream.
Wordlessly, Yoongi puts a plastic toy ring he bought from the register into your bag. It’s pink and it’s star-shaped, its mold still the same from all those years ago.
.
.
.
You barrel into your mom’s room just to see Namjoon.
You bit at the chance of giving him the stuff he’s asked for from the grocery as per your mom, taking advantage of her focus on organizing the groceries downstairs to have a one-on-one with your brother.
“You have to make Yoongi drive into the city tonight. Either that or he flies to the US. The reunion is already tomorrow,” you seethe, crossing your arms as he sighs in defeat.
“It’s already late. Yoongi’s driving with Haneul, a kid, alone,” he emphasizes, running a hand through his hair as he himself is troubled by you being in a bind over everything. “And he can’t book a flight back on such short notice.”
“Short notice? What, did he just happen to book a one-way flight and not a round trip one?” you snort in amusement, shaking your head in disbelief. The thought actually cracks you up because out of the three of you, Yoongi happened to be the one more adept to websites despite your limited materials back then. Namjoon remains silent, and with how serious he looks, your face falls.
You can’t believe Yoongi at all.
“He did? You’ve gotta be kidding me, Joon,” you groan, throwing your head back. “What, does that mean Yoongi gets to stay in our home while we’re in this godforsaken family reunion?”
Namjoon delivers yet another blow, his revelation making you more enraged than the last.
“Mom invited them.”
“What? Why?!” you exclaim, chest rising in frustration. “Yoongi’s not family, Namjoon. Atleast not for me.”
He doesn’t miss your added remark at the end of your sentence, the underhandedness of it making him look down on the floor.
Namjoon feels guilty, he really does, but he can’t seem to make it right. He couldn’t even fight you in insisting to apologize that night.
For each day that you try to delay the inevitable of confronting him and letting him taking the fall, of letting him apologize, Namjoon feels more like a big failure for an older brother than he already is.
“But he used to be,” he says under his breath, looking up at you with a stubbornness you can’t place. “Your lifetime versus those five years — which one amounts to more?”
( ♡ )
Everyone gushes over Jungkook.
In an altitude higher than the mountainside that you’re in now, the aunts, uncles, and cousins you didn’t even know you have squeal over your fake boyfriend. By the fifth relative, you’ve already got your routine down of letting them hug you and kiss your cheek before holding Jungkook’s bicep, acting as his bodyguard to make sure they don’t squeeze him too hard or not at all.
“Oh my god, Y/N. Jeon Jungkook is your boyfriend?!”
“I knew it, I knew you were gonna have a partner who’s famous! I dreamed about it when you were-…”
“If that’s your boyfriend, then who’s he?” your cousin (?) whispers to you, cutting himself off as he turns his gaze to Yoongi and Haneul. They’re most certainly not your family, meaning that they’re unrelated to everyone present, so what your relatives (some more nosy than others) can’t wrap their heads around is the fact that there are strangers in your family reunion.
It takes one, two times for your mom and Namjoon to explain who they are and what they’re doing here in the first place, the chorus of nods eventually signaling that they’ve moved on. Some of them could even recall Mr. and Mrs. Min from the neighborhood, and Yoongi could only nod.
It’s not that he doesn’t belong right now — he actually feels the opposite. Yoongi feels that he has a place amongst a barrage of relatives he’s not affiliated to by neither blood nor paper, and it pains him; not because he’s scared of belonging, but because you probably don’t think the same way.
Haneul runs to him underneath the umbrella he’s isolated himself at, his son grasping an assortment of cash, food, and juiceboxes Yoongi most certainly did not pack in Haneul’s backpack from the night before.
“Auntie’s family is really nice, appa. Look what they gave me,” he shows everything that his hands could carry, breathing heavily in excitement as he explains that your relatives told him to come back once his hands are empty.
“Oh dear. They really think you’re adorable,” he laughs, pocketing Haneul’s cash (he swears he’ll give it back) and hiding some of the snacks he’s been given so he wouldn’t give himself heartburn eating too many at once.
Yoongi’s smiling from ear to ear, sitting Haneul in his lap as he overlooks the view of your town from above. Everything looks so small and delicate, you’d almost think none of what laid downhill ever even mattered. He didn’t get views like these in New York.
Yoongi didn’t get people like you in New York.
“Mama’s family isn’t this nice,” Haneul speaks out of nowhere, his thoughts uttered out loud directed more-on to himself than it is for his dad. Yoongi stops in his tracks in trepidation, shoulders tensing over what his son just said. “They never play with me like this. Not like auntie.”
He knows Hyewon’s relatives, albeit not that well. Her family members in the US were not this kind, not this warm, even to a child who’s actually related to them.
Yoongi’s stuck in his thoughts the whole time Haneul sips on his juice, finally being snapped into his reality nowwhen you approach their direction. His son waves at you excitedly even if you’ve just crossed paths minutes ago.
“Here, Haneul,” you hold out a container to him, the gentle smile on your face limited to only him yet Yoongi, for a lack of grace, pretends it’s also for him. “I tried my best to make it look like Bluey,” you chuckle, pointing to the mini sculpture made out of the marshmallows and blueberries that your relatives set aside for him.
Haneul beams at you, thanking you profusely. If only he wasn’t sat on Yoongi’s lap and therefore grounded, he would’ve launched himself at you to hug your legs.
Yoongi takes the hat right off his head, putting it on you while you’re crouched next to his son.
“It’s hot,” he explains, his heart continuously speaking beats the longer that you linger beside Haneul and the longer that he giggles in excitement. “I know you get headaches easily.”
( ♡ )
Despite being reachable, Yoongi still yearns for you.
He yearns for you even if you’re only within arm’s reach, sitting near you but never close enough at the long table because with you, he feels safe. He laughs in the background like it’s a sitcom to every joke and every episode of banter thrown around him. He doesn’t feel out of place with your family — he feels out of place with you.
He’s never been a wickedly jealous type. Even when he and Hyewon were still together and she cheated on him, Yoongi felt more resentful than he was jealous. He didn’t feel this type of way; he didn’t feel inferior. He didn’t feel like he was nursing a loss in his life because he has no choice but to. Yoongi had managed to divorce Hyewon because it didn’t work out between them, and that was that.
Yoongi can neither divorce you nor pull away from you because you’ve never been with each other. He harbors no resentment for you and that scares him, not because he wants to hate you so badly, but because he feels as if everything you’ll do to him, he’ll take it.
Yoongi will take it even if you set a plate for Jungkook despite unconsciously forgetting what he’s always disliked eating when you were still kids. He’ll take the serving tray from your hands still, uncaring if eating the tiniest bite of the food you’ve passed gives him an allergic reaction because you were the one who offered.
He’ll take it even if you hold Jungkook’s bicep in a hurry when there’s a bug that’s getting awfully close to your drink. Yoongi would walk to where you sit and dispose of it wordlessly because even Jungkook himself is scared of bugs. He doesn’t mind if you don’t thank him, because atleast now when he looks at you from a distance, you’re sitting in relaxation and you no longer have to hold your boyfriend.
He’ll endure the jealousy that burns through his throat more than the poorly-made, highly-alcoholic vodka your uncle made himself. He’ll hold onto the poison that is yearning and how he’ll feel like his throat would close up because if you were still young, in this setting of free rein, except you were still in love him like you used to be and he’s in love with you like he is now, neither you and Yoongi would be hurting.
Yoongi will take it. He’ll take the nothing that you give him and give you the everything that you don’t ask for anymore.
Five years versus the rest of your lifetime that you spent being in love with him is only miniscule. The suffering that he’s going through now is only a speck of the years you’ve spent in an unrequited love.
Unlike you, Yoongi’s weak. If he were to say it outloud to you, you’ll never agree because you’ve never regarded yourself otherwise. You’ll go on this tangent that you’ve always been weak, influenced by the times that Yoongi had chastised you for your lack of a passion.
To you, Yoongi had been right in a way.
To Yoongi, he’s always been in the wrong.
He’s crying to you now that the both of you are alone, overlooking the small town he used to be keen on getting out of. Now, more than ever, Yoongi wants to stay in it. He wants to stay with you.
“Why is everything with you so hard?” Yoongi whispers, his tears stinging badly from the corner of his eyes to the point that he can only make out shapes. He’s unkempt and frantic as if his life flashed before his eyes and there’s nothing he could do about it, voice strained like much of the times he’s drank himself to sleep.
He resembles Haneul at the moment. He’s always had because there’s not one bit of Hyewon in his son’s features or personality, but he looks especially like him now that he’s crying. The back of his hands harshly dig into his face, sobs bursting right from his throat. “Why do I make everything so hard for us? Why can’t I— w-why can’t I make it right for once?”
There’s a tremble to your chest that you ignore earnestly, the presence of it enough to scare you because it’s familiar; too familiar. Seeing your past play out in front of you in the form of a seemingly content family sleeping on your bed is one thing, but it’s another to see its patriarch crumble in front of you. It’s different to see your past pleading in front of you for just the slightest bit of your attention.
As a matter of fact, it’s different now because you resemble Yoongi the most.
“You never tried,” you seethe, jumping the gun before you even try to decipher what’s in the barrel. It’s a bullet you fire haphazardly that comes from your pocket that you’ve always held onto. It’s a misplaced, misshapen, old bullet that you force into a gun that Yoongi passed onto you.
Right now, Yoongi doesn’t resemble Haneul, and neither does he resemble his ex-wife.
He resembles you with the way his eyes are clearly swimming in hurt while you avoid looking at his, just to relieve the painstaking feeling of guilt and longing compacted into a sob.
“I never tried?” Yoongi exhales shakily, his quivering hands running through his hair to tug on them.“I never tried?”
You hear yourself clearly even if it’s his voice. The tremble and the anger, even all the way to the blind hope.
“I kept trying to reach out to you every single time. Every single birthday, every single Christmas, every insignificant holiday I could search up!” Yoongi cries — he actually thrashes with the way he sobs, shoulders shaking violently. “I didn’t try? If I didn’t try, try looking at every page of my passport to see all the stamps there are whenever fucking Jungkook was reported to be in another country,” he spits his name like poison, the vitriol behind it, however, never catching up to what he feels about himself.
You resemble Yoongi the most because you stand untethered, eyes blurring and lips quivering, yet you only watch him lose himself before thinking of uttering a single word.
“I’m selfish, I’m an asshole, and I’m fucking insufferable. I can’t even apologize to you correctly,” Yoongi lists, chest rising up and down too heavily, he feels like it’ll give out. “But I love you, Y/N. I-I might be every bad thing in your life right now and I own up to that. I’m still trying to be the best for you.”
Not only does Yoongi resemble you — he’s actually become you.
“You can call me the vilest names ever but you can’t say that,” he grits, teeth chattering not from the cold he’s put himself in, but because he can’t stop mentioning your name in between. “You can’t say I never tried because I always have. I’ll never stop becausethat’s what it takes,” Yoongi mutters; because, he says, not if.
“I love you,” he says it far too clearly for someone who’s drunk; far too sincerely for someone who had spent the better part of his life putting it through your head that he can’t return your affection. “I’ve always loved you.”
( ♡ )
You don’t feel good.
There’s a fever that’s starting to bloom from the base of your skull all the way to your toes, the abnormal warmth you feel in your chest making you unable to interact with everyone else outside of your room. Jungkook had left with your uncles before dawn to go fishing in the nearby lake and never would you think to inconvenience him; to tend to someone like you for something as minor as a fever, or for anything at all.
You already have a system down for taking care of yourself when you’re ill. It started when neither your mom nor your brother were home with you, and it was finally perfected when you had to live completely alone in the big city. All you had to do was gather all the energy you have, spend it at the start to get everything you could possibly need and put them all at the side of your bed, and rest until everything no longer hurts.
The major flaw with your system now is that you don’t have the energy at all. You can’t build up the strength to get up, walk across the hall and interact with your relatives, and rummage through groceries to get what you need without being questioned; you can’t build up the sense of importance you have for yourself to ask for help.
Namjoon comes into your room before you could dance around the idea of asking him to get you water, all because he has this innate sense of guilt in him and you could utilize it to your advantage. Your brother gets ahead of you before you could even register that he’s here with you, his eyes sullen and pleading.
“Can we talk?”
“I can’t exactly storm off right now,” you rasp, your voice fading out into a low chuckle.
“Do you want to talk when you’re able to storm off?” he asks sincerely with a small smile, his hand fixing your hair as gently as he could without making your migraine ring further. “If you do though, then you probably might never hear me out again.”
You stay silent because he is right, but Namjoon feels otherwise. He feels as if he hasn’t been doing anything right at all and you existing separate from him is a constant reminder. His career is at its peak but he thinks he could go higher; his relationship with you is deteriorating and he doesn’t think it could possibly be worse.
“I’m sorry for being a shitty brother,” he apologizes, the first thing out of his mouth being the last thing that floods his mind before he goes to sleep at night. “I should’ve never defended Yoongi, even Hyewon by extension.”
The heat behind your eyes isn’t all from your fever. The tears that prick your eyes aren’t because of the pressure in your head, but because of the fact that you haven’t heard Namjoon apologize to you in a long time; you haven’t talked this sincerely for even longer
“I should’ve put you first,” he sniffles, muttering apologies in between his pauses for finding the right words that would make it okay; that would somehow undo all that he’s been an accomplice to. “I should’ve been this reliable, sturdy man of the house. I-I should’ve been more of a father figure to you-…”
“Don’t,” you interject sternly. “You never filled in his shoes and you should never will. You’re only mom’s son and my brother, Namjoon. It’s never been your job to raise me.”
Even after everything, there’s a gentleness to you that Namjoon’s always loved but hate the most now. He hates that even if he’s the one who’s apologizing, you’re the one who’s saying sorry for the things you didn’t even inflict on him. Neither of you wanted to be raised by only a single parent, yet you absolve him of the guilt he’s always felt.
“But I could’ve been better. I wish I was already better from the start.”
“I know.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t think how hard life was for you growing up. I-I would’ve given up football if only-…” he trembles, unable to get the last of his sentence out because you shake your head in earnest.
“Stop.”
“But I mean it. If only I-I didn’t get into football, I could’ve been there for you and mom much often. I could’ve been better and-...”
“But I grew up to be okay, didn’t I? You’re the best at what you do. We’ve managed to retire mom early because we put in the work,” you whisper, the shrug of your shoulders feeling more heavy that it should feel because the words don’t come out easily from you.
“But okay shouldn’t have been enough for you,” Namjoon tears up, bottom lip trembling as you try to take in his words that you’ve always wanted to hear at the back of your mind; you hear them now when you’ve already grown up. You hear them now after you’ve already endured the grief. “I— we should’ve given you the fighting chance to grow up more than okay.”
.
.
.
It’s not Jungkook who comes to visit you while you’re nursing a fever, because you’ve temporarily banned him from the bedroom. He only pouted in complaint when you called him, but he didn’t fight you that much either because you’ve called him out for the excitement in his voice to go hiking for the first time.
It’s not Yoongi who comes to visit you while you’re nursing a fever, because Haneul asked him to teach him Go (he’s not even that good at it and being the ever unable to show incompetence and have pride especially when Jungkook’s watching father, he discreetly asked lessons from your mom) so he’ll be able to play with your cousins.
Instead, it’s your mom who visits you. Even if Namjoon hadn’t tipped her off that you were feeling under the weather, she’s already had a feeling this morning.
“Are you okay, sweetie?” she asks, her hands full of everything you could possibly need and more before plopping them at your side. She makes you sit up even before you could complain, handing you a drink with some medicine you didn’t even know she carried
“Just a little fever,” you answer, getting back into your cocoon.
You don’t even attempt to make conversation because you fear that you don’t have it in you to have a heart-to-heart talk with your mom just minutes after you’ve had one with Namjoon.
You don’t even say anything to her except your thanks. Namjoon didn’t even tell her about your conversation, even if he approached her with tear-stained cheeks and bloodshot eyes while saying that it was just allergies.
Your mom feels the guilt spring to her chest even if you don’t utter a single word. She feels the remorse in her eyes when you don’t ask her for anything more. She feels the guilt the most in her hands when you don’t ask her to stay.
“I’m sorry if I made you feel like there wasn’t enough space for your burdens growing up.”
“What?”you scramble to get up in a seated position, eyes hazy from how quick you do it. “Mom, you scared me. Where’s this coming from?”
She shakes her head at your cluelessness, eyes stinging when you genuinely look at her innocently. You don’t know what she’s talking about, even if the thought has plagued her for so long.
“You’re not really okay, are you?”
“It’s… just a fever,” you mumble, your breathing already trembling at the way she looks at you.
She’s looking at you like you’re still a kid; ever so fragile and innocent, it’s as if she wouldn’t let a single thing in this world harm you. She doesn’t know a single thing about your feud with Namjoon and your long drawn-out conflict with Yoongi. What your mom does know is that she doesn’t know a single thing about the heartbreak you suppress, and that thought alone makes her hiccup in tears.
“You’re right, you know? Our house is small,” she says, distinctly recalling the tensioned conversation you had with Namjoon back at home. “It’s tiny but it was far too big for you growing up alone,” she inhales sharply, trying not to sob in front of you. “He wasn’t in the picture. I was working a hundred jobs left and right. Namjoon was trying to make a name for himself,” she shakes her head, so much so that the necklace she’s had since you were children, the same one with yours and Namjoon’s birthstones on it, rattles. “I’m sorry for making you feel that you can’t come to me.”
In just a full day, you’ve heard everything that you’ve ever wanted. It’s everything you’ve ever wanted during the school plays where you had no one from your family, except Yoongi, to watch you become an extra up on stage. He’d always deny that he did show up for you and just say that it’s because he was genuinely interested in a play about a poet he didn’t care about in reality, but you take it nonetheless.
It’s everything you’ve ever prayed for watching Yoongi live a life far too advanced for you as he held Hyewon’s hand after school. It’s what you wanted to hear when you begged him not to leave you behind.
“I-I’m okay. I’m really-…” you stutter, looking away before your tears fall in the fear that they’ll never stop.
Your mom only hugs you tighter.
“I’m here if you want someone else to carry your burdens,” she whispers. “I’m here now.”
( ♡ )
It’s the last day of the reunion when you fully recover, and it’s hours ahead of everyone when Jungkook has to leave by himself.
Without even asking for it, Jungkook grants you another week’s worth of break. You didn’t even plan on asking, yet Jungkook’s willing to give you a month if only you do.
You’ve already arranged for his personal driver to pick him up and take him back to the city. You’ve already packed his bags, along with the multiple containers of food that your relatives (and especially your mom) insisted for him to take. You’ve arranged for your substitute to take care of him for his schedules throughout the week, along with the insistent reminder to call you whenever Jungkook needs you. (Read: he does, with or without a schedule.)
Everything is set for Jungkook to leave except for his driver who’d been roped by your mom to be filled with breakfast first, yet with the remaining minutes left, Jungkook’s still with you on your bed.
He lies on your lap even if there’s plenty of space for him to lie parallel to you on a pillow — and you let him.
“Have you ever thought about kissing me?” he asks in the middle of you texting your substitute, the randomness of his thought already being familiar to you. This time, unlike the few thousand times he’s ever asked you something straight off his mind without refining them, is different.
It’s different now because your pretend-boyfriend asks you if you’ve ever thought about kissing him, while looking like he really wants to kiss you.
“Where’d that come from?” you giggle, looking down on him on your lap.
Not once does Jungkook ever look away from you.
“Dunno,” he shrugs, pointing up at you. “Your lips are close to bleeding and it’s bothering me.”
“Sorry for turning you off,” you snort in laughter, wiping at the tiny specks of blood. Jungkook tuts when you rub at them, feeling for his lip balm out of his pocket.
“I didn’t mean it like that,” he stresses, going a little cross-eyes when he applies them for you. His eyes keep goading you, the smile he has on his face widening the more that you look at him incredulously. “Sooo… have you?”
You don’t want to lie to him at all.
“If I answer yes, Jungkook,” you toy around with his hair, setting your phone face-down because you can’t focus on anything else now. “We can never come back from that.”
Jungkook laughs in glee so loudly, Yoongi (who was only passing by; he really, really swears he didn’t just happen to eavesdrop in your room because Jungkook’s driver is all done eating and wants to beat traffic) actually flinches.
Jungkook strains to be closer to you, unconsciously training you to lean down. His lips are far too soft — far too close to you, you could see every line and every nuance in them. He whispers, eyes practically crossing at your proximity.
“And is that such a bad thing?”
( ♡ )
You’re back at home when Jungkook texts you that he’s made it back safe, and that he wants to kiss you again.
You’re back at home when Yoongi asks you if he could use the bathroom first because Haneul spilled milk on him during the drive. You’re in your childhood bedroom when you let him clean up first, and you’re sitting on your childhood bed when you volunteer to put Haneul down because he’s cranky and for some reason, wants to be held by you.
You’re back at home too when Yoongi and Haneul are knocked out for the night, and your mom calls you and Namjoon down for all three of you to talk at the dining table.
You’re back at the home you were raised in, sitting on the dining table that’s creaky when more than two people lean their weight into it, in the space you’ve roamed around alone waiting for them to come home, when your mom talks about wanting to sell it.
“You want to sell?” Namjoon’s eyes widen, exchanging a glance with you who’s as equally surprised as he is.
“Yes. It’s under my name, y’know? Not that… man’s,” she snorts, the off-hand mention of your father making you and Namjoon laugh unexpectedly. Your mom looks at ease as she talks about selling your house, the smile she has one her face being shaped with experience and grace. “I doubt the both of you would want to keep this, and besides, the offers I’ve kept for years now are high. You already know that big-shot companies have been buying out houses here for years now because of the growth potential and whatnot. Who knows, maybe our block will be turned into a mall!” she shrugs, the happiness in her tone infectious.
For someone who’s decided on letting go the house she’s both struggled and strived in, your mom’s beyond excited.
For two adults, who were once kids, who’ve seen the amount of sacrifices your mother’s put into the place by herself, you and Namjoon don’t have any objections.
“Also, consider this as me asking for permission to go on a vacation, even if I’m grown, because some people get so paranoid when I don’t answer calls,” she digs at you and your brother, immediately inciting coughs because you two, in fact, are guilty of worrying over your mom too much. “I’m going on this worldwide trip with Yoongi’s mom,” she grins, pulling out one last surprise. “We’ve talked about it since we were young. She’s earned her stripes working abroad, I managed to raise two amazing children as a single mom. We’ve earned it, I think.”
You and Namjoon share a glance once again, this time more definite than the last. You’ve made up already as far as your mom could tell, and that confirmation is what she needs before finally selling the house you all grew up in.
“You’ve earned it more than anyone.”
( ♡ )
Yoongi’s packing up for their flight tonight when you go into your room to pack up the life you’ve lived there.
“You’re coming with me and Haneul?” Yoongi jokes when he sees you pulling out your own luggage, the tone of his voice highly suggesting for you to become serious. He gets you to smile and that’s big enough of a win as is, the remainder of it more than substantial to hold onto when he’s away from you. Again.
“No, unfortunately. I’m packing up the room and eventually… the whole house,” you answer with a chuckle, voice trailing off when you see the crestfallen look on Yoongi’s face. He looks like someone who’s just absorbed the largest pain to man as he’s trying not to make it obvious. “We’re posting it for sale two weeks from now.”
Yoongi nods tightly, inhaling sharply as he tries to maintain his steady tone. “Then why are you packing up already?”
You could do this tomorrow. As a matter of fact, you could do it tonight because you don’t have to drive them to the airport. You have all the time in the world within two weeks to do this, yet you go into your room now when Yoongi’s still in it.
When Yoongi still hasn’t left, and neither of you know when you’re gonna see each other next.
“I have to get a move on. If I don’t move now,” you trail, voice close to trembling as you open cabinets you’ve never even given the time of day before. “I’m scared that I’ll keep holding onto this house.
Yoongi nods, even if he fully understands — even if he doesn’t want to swallow what you’re saying.
“You want out?”
“We want out — me, mom, Namjoon,” you explain, looking at him properly for the first time since he told you that he loved you. “For the longest time, we’ve held onto this place because we became this house at one point. Namjoon’s this world star, my mom’s traveling the world with your mom-…”
“Oh, they’re finally doing it?” Yoongi interrupts, a smile finally coming to his face at the news. He hasn’t talked to his mom in a month from how busy he’s been, and although he’s always missed her (even if they’re on much better terms than he and his dad could be), he’s happy knowing that your moms have each other atleast. “How about you? What will you be doing?”
“I’ll just be… living day-to-day. I’m not doing anything extremely special, but I’m happy and busy doing it,” you laugh, looking around your room that hasn’t appeared this clean, this warm, since you last stayed in it. “No one’s going to be around here anymore.”
As if on cue, Haneul runs to Yoongi’s arms to be picked up. He knows what the luggages mean and because he’s largely in denial that they have to leave later (as referenced by him crying to your mom and Namjoon), Haneul keeps pretending to sleep so that their trip gets delayed.
Yoongi’s about to put him on your bed even if he knows his son’s antics already, but in the fear that he’ll actually get to sleep and they don’t get to leave (which he isn’t opposed to at all), he keeps him in his arms.
You, on the other hand, take Haneul from him when his arms outstretch for you.
There’s the sentiment of you not having to do it that’s resting at the tip of Yoongi’s tongue but he holds himself back, the image of you and Haneul completely fitting one another, he wants to burn a copy of it to his retinas and designate it to be the last thing he’ll see if he ever goes blind.
Without putting Haneul to sleep on your bed, he goes to sleep in peace in your arms.
“Do you regret it?” Yoongi asks throughout the silence between you, sitting next to you at the edge of your bed. “Do you regret ever liking me?”
“I do,” you answer truthfully, rubbing circles at the Haneul’s back. “I regret knowing you.”
Yoongi takes the responsibility fully, even fuller than the way both your hurt and happiness could make or break him.
“I can’t take back all the hurt I’ve caused you,” he admits just as honestly, turning to look at you. He becomes surprised to learn that you’ve been looking at him the whole time. “But what I can promise you is that I’ll never do anything to hurt you again.”
“I have my share of faults too.”
“Eh. Mostly mine.”
“Mostly yours, yeah,” you laugh easily, nodding to yourself as you continue. “But I held onto you as much as you didn’t hold onto me. That’s my mistake.”
Yoongi stays silent at that, not because he agrees, but because the bias that you’ll never be wrong in his eyes overtakes your humbleness.
“Do you think he’ll remember the entirety of the trip?” you ask, gesturing to Haneul who’s already sleeping like a hibernating bear in your hold. “Or will Haneul just remember that time the power went out because he cried a lot?”
“Oh, he’ll remember everything alright. He’s good with retention and people in general,” Yoongi waves you off. “Even if he didn’t come along the trip— even if we didn’t crash the whole thing, Haneul would remember you.”
“Who am I to him?” you ask in curiosity, lips turning into a straight line before they curve in the slightest. “Appa’s friend, I bet.”
“Not really. You’re a lot of things to me,” Yoongi chuckles, looking at the way Haneul grips you as if you’ll float away if he lets go; he’d do the same too. “More like my first love.”
Yoongi loves you quietly.
He loves you quietly with the way he draws the curtains downstairs when you sleep on the couch, tired and stressed over a solution you couldn’t understand. He loves you with the way he’ll scoop the warmest, freshest, least-burnt portion of rice to your bowl without you even asking for it. He loves you with the way he’s willing to let you walk all over him.
He loves you quietly in the way that not even distance nor time could disrupt him.
Yoongi loves you quietly, it might have been too much.
“Is that a lottery ticket?” he asks suddenly as he spots the familiar face of it inside your luggage, tucked into the discreet pocket where your mother’s letters of encouragement when you went to the big city were also kept
“Oh, it’s still there,” you answer, in surprise yourself because even if this is the same luggage you use whenever you go out of the country with Jungkook, you’ve never noticed that it was still there. “I bought it when you left for the US.”
Yoongi stops in his tracks in retrieving the scratch ticket from the pocket, looking up at you in curiosity. “Why did you buy one that day?”
Haneul stirs in his sleep in your arms, waking up right at the middle of you and Yoongi being lost in each other. He mistakes the silence as a signal that they’ll be leaving already, making a mess of himself as he quickly goes down the stairs to look for your family there and cling to them instead.
You and Yoongi are alone again.
“I don’t know,” you answer honestly, grasping the scratch ticket you used to spend hours looking. “I guess I just needed some proof that fate was against me that day.”
“But how would you even know that?” Yoongi asks, pointing to the card that’s still covered. “You didn’t even scratch it.”
You answer honestly, the reason burnt to the back of his mind.
“Because I knew I would lose my mind if I actually lost.”
“Try,” Yoongi swallows, nudging the ticket closer to you with a gaze that mirrored yours when he left. “Try again. Please.”
You have nothing else to lose.
Yoongi isn’t yours to lose.
You retrieve the same old coin Yoongi gave to you on the same day that he bought you your first scratch ticket, the appearance of it from your luggage making his heart skip a beat.
He doesn’t speak and neither do you, gaze only fixed on the way you scratch the card almost hesitantly, as if you’re still scared of the results of something that you should’ve known five years ago. (Read: you still are.)
When you get to the last digit, you freeze. You comb through the pattern over and over again, yet you still can’t believe it.
You’ve won the highest possible prize.
“Oh.”
“Oh,” you parrot Yoongi, looking up at him as he can’t believe it either.
“You won.”
“I won,” you repeat, running a hand through your hair. You actually laugh, the lump in your throat subsiding. It’s a welcome, albeit loaded, feeling of happiness that comes in between the two of you. “I thought I would lose,” you mutter bitterly, shaking your head.
You didn’t lose. Fate wasn’t against you that day, and yet you still lost yourself thinking subconsciously what the proof of it would’ve been.
“Who would’ve thought, right?” you sigh, eyes drifting to Yoongi. “If only I took that chance years ago, I would’ve won.”
Yoongi smiles tightly, breath faltering in recollection.
“I’m familiar with the feeling,”
Yoongi doesn’t get to finish packing for him and Haneul and neither do you with your whole room, the shift in the atmosphere suddenly making him stand.
He’s breathless and he doesn’t know what for, the rapid beating of his chest making his voice louder than necessary. “Hey, what do you say you take a break? I’ll pack up your room. I have to stay alert anyway for Haneul."
You thank him before leaving him alone in your room.
Yoongi can’t find the strength in him to pack. The only power he has left in him is for him to think of taking everything out from his luggages, the thought of leaving again, this time worlds different than the last when you were begging him not to — he feels like throwing up.
Yoongi’s merely an amalgamation of you. He’s only a compilation of your every word, every feeling you’ve implanted in his heart. He’s filled with nothing but your every triumph and shortcoming; every late night hanging out with you as you attempt to study while he keeps you company, every minute he spent going out of his mind trying to look for you when you ran away from home.
Yoongi loves you silently to the point that he gets out of your room without accomplishing a single thing he said he’ll do just awhile ago.
In the grand scheme of things, Yoongi realizes that he was wrong. He was as wrong as you were right that the moment he leaves home, he’ll spend the rest of his life looking for it.
Even if you left your home like he did, even if neither of you could come home anymore the moment your childhood house gets sold, Yoongi would still search for it. He’ll still search for you. You’re no longer where you were, but you are everywhere that Yoongi is.
He looks for you in Namjoon’s room, to the dining table, and all the way outside, just to ask if he and Haneul could stay for dinner.
Yoongi finds you and Haneul eating sundaes on the pavement outside, with you on the ground and a scrap cardboard underneath Haneul so it wouldn’t be hot for him.
Fate hadn’t been against you five years ago. And even if he’s much too late, Yoongi could only pray that fate isn’t against him now.
He walks over to where you and Haneul are, grabbing another scrap of cardboard to put underneath you.
Yoongi is consumingly yours all the time.
#WHEWWWWWW HOW R WE FEELING!!!!#yoongi imagine#yoongi oneshot#yoongi series#yoongi angst#yoongi angst imagine#yoongi fluff#yoongi x reader#yoongi x y/n#yoongi au#min yoongi imagine#min yoongi scenario#yoongi fanfic#yoongi x you#bts yoongi imagine#bts yoongi x reader
489 notes
·
View notes
Note
HIIII GIRLY. I saw your drabble game anddd how about
"How could we ever just be friends" + yoongi djskskjs
just friends:
pairing: yoongi x gn! reader
genre: fluff || mild hurt with a lot of comfort || non-idol au
summary: maybe you were never just friends
word count: 1.2k
tags/ warnings: feelings, fluff, the smallest hint of hurt, they’re actually just really in love and the m/c is slightly oblivious but yoon is a big old sweetheart
notes: OMG HEY!!!!! you didn’t ask for a specific au so i did indulge slightly and made it fluffy and soft, hope you like it :D
drabble masterlist || all my other works
. . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆.
There had always been something utterly unique about Yoongi’s existence in your eyes. He had been the first, and only person whose life had meant anything to you.
You’d spent most of your life aimlessly wandering, taking each day as it came and only hoped it would get better the more you trudged through. Fingers letting go of the ropes of friendships you’d made and lost—people you didn’t pay any mind to now that they weren’t in your life.
You didn’t miss them. Never thought of them unless they were right in front of you, if they never made themselves known.
But Yoongi had been different.
It didn’t take his physical presence for you to wonder how he was doing. He didn’t need to message first for you to ask how his day was. Dreams filled with another reality, what the two of you would be doing the next time you met, how sweet your name sounded from his lips. Or that sweet smile he would give you every time you stumbled over your words, too caught up in his eyes your brain malfunctions and you forget how to speak.
Thoughts consumed by him, feelings wrapping around the idea of his existence, soul dancing around his in this weird push and pull, not quite just friends but not really anything more.
Special, precious, perfect, Yoongi.
In all your years alive you’d never had a crush until that first moment you met. Never once thought of another human being in any other way that wasn’t platonic. It felt as though part of your world had started to crumble to moment, you’d acknowledged how you truly felt about him, stuck in this endless dilemma. Because who were you meant to tell him about your feelings when he was your closest friend? What if he asked who it was? He knew you rarely went out, and you sure as hell would have told him if you’d gone on any dates. So, you’d been stewing in your own feelings for as long as you can remember, too scared to utter a word about what was really happening between the two of you.
Because, sure his touches lingered, warm skin pressed against one another until the heat has travelled to your cheeks and you refuse to look at him, too scared he’d see how flustered you were. And sure there was the nicknames, though that was something he’d started early on, and you had doubts he fell in love just as quickly as you did.
Sometimes it felt like he only smiled at you, and yet you could only assume it was because you were his best friend, a safety net for him as much as he was one for you.
But not once had he made it obvious he liked you any more than a friend. A fact you’d slowly decided you could live with.
Just like yourself, it wasn’t very often Yoongi went on dates, you don’t think he’s been on one in the time you’d been friends. Which makes this whole dilemma slightly easier to swallow, because at this moment in time you were probably the most important person in his life.
You got to live out your secret little fantasy, and he got a low maintenance friendship. The perfect exchange.
And truly you believed it would be like this forever, until that little dream in the forefront of your mind was shattered by someone else coming into his life, and the two of you slowly drifting apart.
That was until tonight.
It wasn’t often you drank, never indulged in the fine whiskeys Yoongi would bring over to your place, stashed away in the cupboard when he wanted a little something before bed. However, Yoongi had come over with a cocktail making kit, saying he’d done some research because he knew how much you liked sweeter drinks.
And maybe you’d had a few too many, eagerly asking him to make you different drinks from the little book he had, excited as you watched him mix everything together. Utterly amazed by how good everything he made tasted.
You can’t remember what you’d said, words tumbling out your mouth quicker than you could swallow them back down. The small, sane part of your brain slowly catching up to what was happening as you watch Yoongi’s face morph into something slightly more surprised.
“How could we ever just be friends?” he shakes his head, scooting closer to you on the couch.
“Because you don’t like m—”
He holds a finger up to your lips, quick to silence you.
“Don’t finish that”
A frown tugs at the corners of your lips, “but Yoongi—”
He takes hold of your hands, thumb running over delicate skin as he looks at your face.
“No” he shakes his head, “listen to me for a moment, yeah?”
He’s calm, voice tender and smooth.
You nod.
“You’re not forcing me into anything” he starts, “I thought I was being too pushy with you”
You swallow.
“Huh?” your eyes widen slightly, “But I could have sworn you didn’t like me more than a best friend”
The low rumble of a laugh vibrates from his chest, “Best friends don’t look at each other the way I look at you. They don’t hold your hand on days out, or wish they could kiss you when you make that sweet little face when you first wake up in the morning”
“Why didn’t you tell me?” you murmur, “I really thought—”
“And why didn’t you tell me, hmm?” he smiles, “feelings are weird.”
You nod, outburst having helped you sober up slightly.
“What now?” your legs bounce a little, so far out of your comfort zone.
“Whatever you want” he reassures.
“I’m scared” it spills past your lips before you can think about it.
He tilts his head slightly in question, “About what? Commitment?”
You shake your head, frantic “I just—I don’t know what to do I’ve never dated a person before”
He gives you a gentle smile, “Just be you. Just like you are now, that’s all I want”
“But what if I want a kiss?” you inch a little closer to him.
“Then I’ll give you a kiss”
“What if I wanted a kiss when we go out to dinner with your friends?”
He laughs, “Doesn’t matter when or where, I’ll always be willing to give you a kiss if that’s what you please”
You chew on your bottom lip.
“I’ve never actually kissed anyone before” you say, shoulders losing their tension, because now this felt normal. Like how it always was with Yoongi, where you didn’t need to have secrets or be scared about what he thought. Because for all the time you’d known him, he had always been by your side, and you hope it will stay like that for the rest of time.
“Then I’ll teach you” he hums, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear, “Try not to worry your pretty little head too much, I know what you’re like”
“But—” you worry.
“Nope” he laughs, “We’ll work through this together like we do everything else, I’m always here for you, you know that right?”
Your eyes flicker between his for a moment, words settling into your soul as you nod.
“And I’ll always be here for you too, just so you know” the corners of your lips curl up into a smile.
#bts fanfic#bts fluff#bts#yoongi#yoongi fic#yoongi fanfic#yoongi x reader#yoongi x you#yoongi imagine#yoongi scenarios#min yoongi x reader#min yoongi fanfic#min yoongi fic#min yoongi imagine#bts non idol au#bts drabble
541 notes
·
View notes
Text
So this is really random but one of my drabble requests was for a Yoongi Soulmate scenario and I started writing it and I’m having so much fun SO I thought I’d give you guys a sneak peak! I’m hoping to have it up soon!
Roommate AU/Soulmate AU Preview • Yoongi
“Whatever you do, don’t mention soulmates.”
Kim Namjoon spent the last twenty minutes of your lunch break talking up his friend and trying to convince you to take him in as a roommate—
Only to make that weird comment and have you reconsidering your tentative acceptance.
“Okay…Is there a story to go with that cryptic declaration?”
Joon shook his head.
“I mean I don’t know if it’s my place—“
“Kim Namjoon, before I let some random man move into my place you’re gonna need to tell me why I can’t talk about soulmates. Everybody talks about soulmates. It’s what we do as a society. It’s like the weather—“
Joon snorted.
“Not Yoongi.”
“And the reason is?”
The two of you had a brief but intense staring contest.
“Alright fine—So… Yoongi was engaged.”
“To his soulmate?”
“No.”
“Oh…….Oh?”
Namjoon held up a finger—indicating that you should wait while he finished chewing his sandwich.
“He loved her—like a lot.”
“But they weren’t soulmates?”
“That didn’t matter to him. He said the whole system was stupid and didn’t mean anything.”
You chuckled.
“Bold words. I assume he had to eat them?”
Namjoon tilted his head in agreement.
“Yeah—he thought she was fine with it—the engagement was moving forward—and Yoongi was really happy….,”—he sighed and you unconsciously leaned in for the big reveal, —“until a soul mark popped up on her arm.”
Your mouth dropped open.
“What—noooo—she—she cheated on him?!”
There was only one way to get a soul mark.
Your soulmate had to see you without…clothes.
Like totally nude.
Fully naked.
Which meant Yoongi’s fiancé had gotten fully naked with somebody else.
No wonder he needed a place to stay.
Joon nodded.
“Seriously, don’t mention soulmates.”
• —— • ——— • —— • ——— • —— •——— •
As it turned out, you didn’t need to worry about mentioning soulmates to Yoongi—because the man barely spoke to you at all for the first three months you lived together.
Instead he communicated through a series of grunts, hums, and other assorted noises that you (surprisingly) became fluent in pretty quickly.
Once you even figured out that the milk carton was empty because Yoongi opened the fridge and sighed a certain way.
However, despite his aloof nature and interesting communicative habits, it was immediately clear why someone might be willing to throw over their hypothetical soulmate for him.
Min Yoongi was bloomin’ gorgeous.
And the few words you did hear him speak sounded like liquid sin on a cookie so—
Yeah.
#I’m so excited#it’s almost done#but I couldn’t wait to share a little#min yoongi#yoongi fic#min yoongi fic#yoongi smut#min yoongi smut#min yoongi imagine#suga#bts#bts suga#bts yoongi#bts min yoongi#Kim namjoon#yoongi fanfic#reader insert#min yoongi x reader#yoongi x reader#suga x reader
2K notes
·
View notes
Text
Jungkook
𝐔𝐍𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐁𝐋𝐄 | Jungkook ✅️
Wrong place, wrong time, right person.
Tags/Warnings: Alien!Jungkook, Human!Reader, dystopian AU, space/Sci-fi/cyberpunk-esque, Enemies to lovers, Angst, Violence, Drama, romance, adult, eventual smut
There is no Taglist for this fic.
This storyline is considered finished, but will receive minor drabbles on occasion.
⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅
■: Full Chapters | □: Drabbles | ◇: Other sidecontent
■ Part 1: Hide me
□ Drabble 1
■ Part 2: Leave Me
■ Part 3: Helping Hand
■ Part 4: Not The Same
□ Drabble 2
□ Drabble 3 [slightly NSFW]
□ Drabble 3.5
□ Drabble 4
■ Part 5: Crossed Lines
■ Part 6: Acceptance
□ Drabble 5
□ Drabble 6
□ Drabble 7
□ Drabble 8
■ Part 7: Wake Up Call
□ Drabble 9
□ Drabble 10
□ Drabble 11
■ Part 8: Wild Love
⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅
𝐔𝐍𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐁𝐋𝐄 | Yoongi
The road to hell is paved with good intentions.
Tags/Warnings: Alien!Yoongi, Human!Reader, dystopian AU, space/Sci-fi/cyberpunk-esque, strangers to lovers, Angst, Violence, Drama, romance, adult, eventual smut
⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅
■: Full Chapters | □: Drabbles | ◇: Other sidecontent
■ Part 1: Business Decisions
???
???
⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅
#bts imagine#bts fanfic#bts fic#jungkook imagine#jeon jungkook x reader#jeon jungkook imagine#bts smut#bts jungkook imagine#jungkook x reader#bts jungkook fanfic#jungkook smut#bts jungkook x reader#bts jungkook drabble#jeon jungkook fanfic#bts jeon jungkook x reader#alien jungkook#alien!jungkook#yoongi fanfic#yoongi smut#min yoongi imagines#bts yoongi imagine#min yoongi imagine#yoongi imagines#yoongi imagine
1K notes
·
View notes
Text
camera shy
pairing: yoongi x reader (f)
summary: after his last Oakland show, you carve out a little alone time with your husband, away from the stage lights and the cameras and the million people who always seem to be around
rating/genre: explicit // fluff + smut + slice of life-ish (it’s a tour fic!) + an attempt at humour
warnings: smut -- oral + fingering (f receiving), missionary, unprotected sex (they’re married it’s fine), terribly thought-out plot
note: hello!!! i haven’t written anything in this format in a long time (poetry is my medium of choice) so pls be gentle!! also this is set in what is the “current timeline” but is of course fictional and i took every creative liberty i could :) also there was supposed to be a little bit at the end that i cut out bc reader was getting a little too cuckoo but that’s where the title came from and i couldn’t think of another. okay. anyway.
Being on tour is exhausting.
You’re not sure you have the right to complain – you’re not the one performing high-energy shows in sold out arenas every night. But you are lifting your share of your husband’s emotional weight as he does his solo tour. His first solo tour, as is stressed to you.
And you’re dodging cameras left and right. While it was impossible for you to stay out of the picture completely — the team at HYBE had convinced you that there was no need to hide your presence — being an idol’s wife didn’t really make you the most… sympathetic character.
So you try to keep the complaining to a minimum.
“If I have to duck out of one more cameraman’s way today…” you grumble under your breath. Sejin laughs.
“There’s only so long they can spend in your room,” he placates. “And tomorrow you’ll have use of the business centre again.”
You harrumph. Fucking businesspeople using the business centre for their business shit. Hunkering down over your laptop again, you attempt once more to read over the article you needed to finish editing tonight. You’re finally making a little headway, getting into the groove, and then —
“That’s it!” you snap in English, frantically trying to catch the open water bottle that almost spilled all over your computer. The culprit, a man looking through the lens of his giant stupid camera on his giant stupid tripod, glances at you with a bored expression.
“Whoops,” he says lightly, wheeling the contraption slightly to the left of where he’d bumped the desk. “Should probably keep that closed.”
You see red. Just as you’re about to toss this man and his equipment out the 50th story window, your husband appears.
“Jagiya,” Yoongi murmurs to you, placing a grounding hand at the side of your face. You instantly relax about fifty percent. “I’m sorry, just the rest of the afternoon.”
You look up at him, at his soft pleading face. He’s turned away from the filming crew, hiding both his expression and yours. You relax the rest of the way, resting in his palm, a little guilt creeping in.
It’s not his fault. Obviously, everything was going to be filmed — a BTS member’s first solo tour. There was going to be a documentary, and like it or not, you were going to be in it. As marginally as possible, everyone had insisted, but you couldn’t afford to look bad. Unfortunate that the filming crew was full of a bunch of dicks who didn’t give a shit about anyone who wasn’t the star. “No,” you shake your head, “I’m sorry. I know you hate this as much as I do, probably more. I’ll try to be good.”
At this, Yoongi smiles, shoulders jerking with a laugh. “I’m not asking for a miracle,” he teases. “Just a little patience.” You roll your eyes. You can behave.
Just then, the same nimrod shoots a look at you, almost goading, as Sejin picks up your laptop and its accessories so the Christopher Nolan wannabe can put some more douchebag equipment where it just was. You look Yoongi straight in the eyes, dead serious. “If that man crosses me one more time, I’m going to kill him. And I’m going to film it with his stupid fucking camera.”
--------------- xxx ---------------
Most people expect you to be ecstatic about the proximity to free tickets that being married to Yoongi brings. And you love watching him perform. Up on the stage, in his element. He’s never more radiant than when he’s singing and rapping, leaning in close to the edge of the stage so he can look into the fans’ eyes — gloss, a fitting name for the shining star you see giving his all.
And the confidence is incredibly sexy. So you have a competency kink, sue you.
But god is it tiring being there. Even in the nosebleeds, or in the VIP box. You can’t exactly abandon Yoongi afterwards, so you have to make your way discreetly backstage with the security team, and then you wait through the undressing and the debriefing and the security checks and the filming. Sometimes the media circus. Only then can you sneak into a car with him and head back to the hotel.
So you stay behind tonight. It’s the last day of the American leg, and you’ve already seen a few spectacular shows. You have your own life, your own responsibilities. Which includes deadlines.
You were able to come with Yoongi for this leg of the tour because you’d promised your boss an exclusive — first dibs on Agust D’s experience touring in the U.S. While you wouldn’t be allowed to take part in the spread (a very clear conflict of interest, no bueno) you’re excited for it. The potential of the photoshoot alone is making your head spin.
But part of the deal was also to keep working. The list of articles your Senior Editor ass has to go over is slowly dwindling, this feature on Korea’s impact on global fashion getting to the finish line.
“Yes!” you exclaim, throwing your hands up in the now blessedly empty hotel room. Email with the finished article sent, you roll your chair to look straight into the little camera that’s trained on the desk Yoongi’s claimed and flip it the bird.
Job done and borderline invasive filming (it’s only on when Yoongi decides to get some working shots for them, but still) disrespected, there’s not much left to do but wait.
When the third time cycling through all your social media apps doesn’t provide any groundbreaking entertainment, you decide to call down to reception for some reading material. It’s not technically work if you’re just reading a dozen trashy ‘Who Wore It Best?’ segments. “Anne Hathaway, hwaiting!” you mutter to yourself.
--------------- xxx ---------------
A couple hours later, you’re still thoroughly immersed in your magazines and your music, completely missing the cacophony in the hallway. The knock on your door startles you so thoroughly you hit your head against the headboard.
“Unnie, are you okay?” asks Ari, one of the stylists. “I was coming to call you to eat!”
“Oh, you’re all back! One sec!” You scramble off the bed, excited to see the aftermath of the show. You barely remember to put on a pair of pants before rushing out the door, Ari’s surprised face greeting you. “Thanks, Ari-yah,” you grin, locking arms with her. “How was the show?”
“It was great! Oppa is always good, but tonight he was especially energetic.” Her face screws up a little. “He ripped another one of the jackets, though.”
An inconvenience to her, but you don’t share the irritation. Yoongi’s broad shoulders busting his clothes, yum. “Oh,” you say anyway, your sympathy unconvincing, “that’s annoying.” Ari snorts.
“Sure. At least it’s new costumes for the next leg. We’ll refit them.”
You practically vibrate with excitement at that. “I haven’t seen them yet! I’m sure you all did an awesome job!”
She blushes. “I think it’ll be good! They’re not totally finalized yet, but I’ll send you a ton of pictures.” Her eye drops in a wink, making you giggle delightedly.
Dinner is a buffet in one of the conference rooms of your beloved business centre. One of the security team members escorts you down with a group of the staff, but most people had gone down earlier, apparently very hungry. Yoongi among them. As you approach the doors, you hear someone complaining to him that they should’ve done this at a restaurant and where is his sense of celebration.
“Come on,” you hear him grumble. “It’s not like the entire tour is over. We can all go out tomorrow.”
You snort. “And then tomorrow you’ll say ‘tomorrow never comes’.” If it were happening to someone else, you’d never let them live down how quickly their husband’s head snapped towards them, but you make an exception because yours is so cute.
Despite his enthusiastic surprise, he doesn’t miss a beat. “Great, now I have to come up with a new excuse. Thanks for that,” he rolls his eyes, but immediately swaps the empty plate you grab with the one he was filling up for himself, no room to argue. Your giddy mood sours a little when you catch sight of the filming crew again.
Yoongi holds your hand over his bouncing knee and the two of you sneak food off and onto each other’s plates. The mood is bright and light, despite everyone’s obvious exhaustion (at least three people by your count are in danger of falling asleep into their food). You expect to see an extended shot of the staff and crew laughing and eating, a flushed Yoongi being plied with praise and encouragement, under some sort of pensive voiceover.
And you’re right, because right after he’s done eating they whisk Yoongi away to do what is sure to be a thorough recount of his adventure in the States. You’re a little jealous that they get to hear all about it before you do. Fuckers.
As the room starts to clear out, you bid everyone a good night and trudge back up to your room, planning to crawl into bed and wait for your husband.
But when you open the door, he’s already there. Your immediate thought is that the air conditioning is up too high for him to leave his hair damp like that. Your second thought is how pretty he looks — sharp eyes focused on his legal pad, sinful hand flying across the page trying to get down whatever lyrics are thundering through his brain, cheeks flushed and pouty mouth puckered. He must’ve gone straight from the shower to his desk.
After a few moments he must sense your eyes on him, because his writing falters and he turns to you, a soft smile breaking out across his face. Your heart flutters.
“Hey!” he says happily, pulling out his earbuds. “I was waiting for you.”
“Clearly,” you laugh, moving to perch on the table in front of him. He pulls your feet into his lap, putting his papers aside. You resist the urge to sneak a peek, instead asking “did I interrupt something?”
“No,” he assures you. “I got everything important down. You were right on time.” His fingers are drumming on your thigh like there’s still something on his mind, but you’re feeling greedy tonight, so you let it slide.
“Apparently, I was late.” His hair is cold when you ruffle it. “Let me dry your hair. You still have schedules to make it to, can’t get sick.”
Under the gentle whirr of the expensive hair dryer and your hands in his soft locks, you coax out some of the details of the night from him. Stuff those production company jerks would never get to hear, wouldn���t think to ask about. How he was so glad to never have to wear one of his costumes ever again. The way he didn’t even feel the heat of the stage lights, the thing that drenched him in sweat (aside from the jumping and running around) was nerves. You laugh when he tells you about the girl in the pit who danced so hard the veil of her wedding dress outfit ended up on one of the lights. Your heart swells, swells, swells.
There’s still a restlessness about him when you’re done. You suggest he goes back to his desk but he shakes his head. “Let’s go to bed.” The first time in ages you can do so without the weight of anticipation and stress over him – hopefully it will settle whatever is making him twitchy.
There’s a spark of arousal in your belly when you feel his eyes on your backside as you change into your pyjamas. A breath stutters out of your mouth when you meet his sleepy gaze, getting a soft smirk in response. “Come here,” he says softly. “I missed you.”
In your eagerness to get to him, you collide with the bed a little too fast. “Oof,” you huff, making him laugh. He sits up to haul you into his side, another surprised noise leaving your mouth.
“Dummy,” he teases. “Not even safe in a cushy hotel room.” You kick at his shin.
“Quit giving me bedroom eyes then.” You see his eyes sparkle and mouth start to open and smack a hand over it. “Yes, we are in a bedroom, ha ha, you are very funny.”
He moves your hand away, unimpressed. “It is a funny joke,” he grumbles. Truly funny thing is, if he’d said it, you would’ve laughed. You’re down horrendously and he knows it, although you do your best to keep his ego in check at least some of the time.
Giggling anyway, you let him press you closer to his chest. You especially love him like this, warm and soft and silly and all to yourself.
Yoongi turns over onto his good shoulder to face you, tipping your chin up. His gaze flits across your face, tender and deep, like he can see everything you’re thinking. You hope he can. You think he does. “I love you,” he murmurs, and he kisses you.
Your eyes flutter closed, relishing in this closeness. The way his mouth moves over yours, slow and deliberate.
This isn’t a kiss just because, or goodnight or I’ll be right back, this is a kiss because I want to be touching you. I want to breathe you in. I want to forget everything but you.
You let out a sigh. Yoongi hums against you, a rumble you feel in his chest, and slides his tongue to meet yours. He shifts some more so he’s over you, braced on his forearm. It’s urgent now, but the way he licks into your mouth is languid, a creeping heat.
He knows just how you like it, just how to drive you wild. Where you push and pull and grasp at him, he slows you, pins you down, makes you feel every second like it’s an hour.
When he pulls away, panting slightly, you realize – it’s been a long time. The last time the two of you had had a chance to get horizontal (or otherwise) had been the week you left Korea. More than a month ago. No wonder you’re so desperate for him, threading your fingers through his hair and pulling him back in, feeling his smug little grin against your mouth.
He grabs at your hip with his other hand, and just that contact, his hand deliberate against the bare skin between your shirt and pyjama shorts, is enough to have you gasping.
He pulls away again with a low chuckle. “I’ve been neglecting you, my love,” he noses against your jaw. The warmth of his breath makes you shiver.
“You’ve been such a good wife,” he continues, sitting back on his heels, raking his gaze over you. His tone is soft but his eyes are so, so hungry. You reach for him, desperate to be back under his body, but he just smiles, closed mouth and innocent. “Shh, let your husband take care of you.”
He climbs back over you, settles his weight on you like he knows you like and hovers an inch from your face. His hair, longer again, hangs in his eyes, but you can see the mischievous shine in them. “Hi,” he whispers.
“Yoongi,” you whine. His smile grows even bigger, but before you can crush your lips to his he leans down and kisses you, slow and searing again.
“I’ll make you feel good,” he promises, mouthing down your neck. You know he’s going to leave marks, but you can’t bring yourself to care. It’s been so long since you’ve felt properly like his. “Smell so sweet,” he sighs, opening the top button of your sleep shirt and burying his face between your tits. “Sweet, sweet girl.”
You moan, sensitive from his touch. “You’re –” he nips at you, drawing more breathy noises from your mouth. “You’re unusually talkative tonight.”
He smiles up at you. “You like it,” he says simply. And you do. You want him to keep telling you how you look and feel to him, what he’s going to do to you.
You start to fall apart under his mouth, his hands, his words. Soon your shirt is gone, tits shiny with his saliva. “Your fucking tongue,” you grab his hair, hold him in place, and his groan against your skin makes your sensitive nipples shoot fireworks into your brain. He presses your tits together tighter, sucking them noisily in turn as you grind up against his hardening cock.
“Taste fucking perfect,” his voice is so deep. Your pussy is already clenching, desperate for him.
Yoongi helps you out of your pyjama shorts, wanting you completely bare to him. “Need to see you, jagi.” He settles between your legs, settled over his shoulders. His warm mouth over your cunt has you spreading them wider, eager.
“That’s my girl,” he rumbles approvingly, expecting the ensuing flood from your pussy. He uses two of his long, callused fingers to spread it all over, sliding almost coincidentally over your clit. Your hips cant towards his hand, wanting more than anything to have them inside you – fuck. He knows exactly what he’s doing.
“Yoongi, please,” you choke. It’s getting nearly unbearable, this desperation. You’re so wet, so sensitive, your entrance clenching around nothing.
“Pretty, pretty,” he says in a soft rasp, talking to himself. He gets comfortable between your legs and you can see his sharp, dark eyes zero in on your cunt, tongue wetting his lips like someone’s set a meal in front of him. You suppose you have.
“Ahhh-hhhh,” you moan, the first broad sweep of his tongue over your folds like electricity. Like he’d just set a firecracker off inside of you – buzzing and sparking from the tips of your toes to your scalp. Eyes squeezed shut, a broken noise comes out of your mouth.
He keeps going, lapping at your pussy in an even rhythm and making low sounds of appreciation. It’s so, so wet you’re sure he must be drooling, and the thought is enough to have you clenching your legs together. “Careful, baby,” he says against your skin, but the vibrations of his voice are just fuel to the fire. “Watch me.”
You lean up shakily on your elbows, and the sight of him is nearly enough to knock you back down again. The mop of dark hair between your legs, working away as though you’re barely there, like he’s just using this to get himself off – except his eyes, watching you under the harsh slant of his eyebrows – shit shit it’s almost too much already.
“Fuck, baby, please,” you plead breathily, not even sure what you’re asking for. He’s already giving you everything you want. The close of his pouted lips around your clit has you jerking, the fiery crackle in your nerves making everything hazy except the places he’s touching you – big hands clamped around your thighs, face buried in your cunt, fingers pressed into the meat of your ass. He’d taken off the rest of his rings, but you can feel his wedding band pinching your skin slightly. Your matching one catches the light as you twist your hand into the sheets. “I need – I nee –” you break off, keening when he rubs a finger over your hole.
“Don’t worry, love,” he slides a digit in, feeling the way you clench around it desperately. “I know what my girl needs.” On the next stroke, he slides in a second finger, groaning when you clamp down on him. You collapse back onto the pillows, hips kicking up despite the way he’s pressing you into the mattress
You’d teased him mercilessly, way back when the two of you had started dating. “Tongue technology, huh? Do you have any songs where you’re not bragging about how good you eat pussy?” He’d only smiled, smug and amused, like he knew something you didn’t.
Boy, did you find out. Again, and again, and again. The way he flicks his tongue over your clit, a fast, even tempo that has you curling your toes. Combined with how fast he’s pumping those long fingers in you, the squelching sounds absolutely obscene.
“Another?” he asks, voice almost disinterested, betrayed only by how hoarse and low it’s become. You nod frantically, knowing you’re close.
When he adds his ring finger, you know you’re done for. There’s a searing heat all down your body — your belly’s tight, your feet digging into Yoongi’s back with how tightly you have them tensed. Your face is flushed and sweaty and you can barely hear your own breathy whining through the rushing in your ears. It’s building, the wet slick of his tongue joining his fingers as your legs start to tremble around him, threatening to squeeze his neck, your hands finding their way into his hair to bring him with you when your back arches off the bed, and when he sucks your clit back between his lips —
“That’s it, fuck, baby,” he growls against you. He pumps you through your orgasm, almost struggling to get deep because of the way you’re gripped tight around them. Lets the gush of come slick his tongue further, shaking his head side to side as you ride out your aftershocks. You grind against his face, stuttering as the oversensitivity kicks in, whining when it becomes too much.
“N’more,” you slur, gasping when Yoongi eases out of you. He sits back on his heels again, his mouth, nose, and chin shiny from the way you’ve drenched him.
He seems content to let it sit as he meets your eyes, popping his used fingers into his mouth, eyes rolling back and groaning at the taste. “Pussy monster,” you sigh deliriously.
He laughs, having sucked his fingers clean. Pushing yourself up to lean back against the headboard, you try to get your bearings. Your legs are shaking a little and between them is still sensitive, but away from Yoongi the cold air of the hotel room makes your nipples tighten and you want more.
Your husband focuses his attention back on you. Your legs, open just enough so he can see the mess he’s made of you, and the way your skin is flushed, from your face all the way down to your chest. You shiver.
“Cold, sweetheart?” he asks in a low growl. He pulls his shirt off and wipes his face with it, giving you an uninterrupted moment to ogle him. His broad shoulders, defined chest and arms, and toned stomach. The tattoo on his pec. The dusting of hair leading from his belly button down, down, down…
“Warm me up,” you say coquettishly, spreading your legs further.
“Fuck,” he whispers, reverent. Even after all these years, you have the exact same effect on him as the first time. It’s evident in the bulge in his pyjama pants that you eye hungrily. He wraps a hand around each of your ankles, pushing them up to bend your knees, crawling up so he can settle against you and lock your legs around his waist.
You let out a pathetic little sound at the feeling of him against your cunt. You’re still leaking, juices sticking to the insides of your thighs and probably leaving a patch on his pants. “Baby,” you whine. He leans down to kiss you and the grind of his cock against you has you gasping. “Need it,” you whisper into his mouth. “How do you want me?”
Yoongi kisses you one more time, chaste, and shakes his head. “How does my sweet girl want it?”
You flush even warmer. “Like this,” you say shyly. Yoongi smiles at you, fucked out and endeared.
Your hands find their way to his sweaty skin like magnets. Shaky fingertips tracing from his hips up over the flat of his stomach, hard muscles twitching as he sighs under your touch. When you reach his chest, you look up at him from under your lashes – he’s already looking back at you, pretty mouth agape. “The abs are new. I like them.” Then you scratch your blunt nails down them, feeling the muscles jump under your hands.
“Fuck,” he groans, leaning into you. You gasp at the twitch of his cock, the head rubbing your clit. “You’re in for it now.”
“Then fucking give it to me.”
He kisses you again, and he’s just so predictable. Despite his big talk and the way he’s pinning your hips down hard, he takes his time, opening you up to him. Your husband kisses like he drinks – slow and savoury, loves the taste of you, the way you make him feel dazed and light. Letting out little satisfied noises in response to the way you kiss him back, the way you let him have his way with you. If it were up to him, he’d work you up like this for hours. Drinking you in.
Unfortunately for him, you’re worked up enough. He’s grinding into you in tiny movements but the sensitivity from your prior orgasm, the insistent press of his cock between your lips, and the knowledge that you haven’t had him inside you in probably the longest stretch of time since you’d met is driving you insane.
“Take off your fucking pants, Yoongi,” you snap against his mouth, pulling at his waistband. He just laughs. “If you don’t fuck me right now –”
He keeps laughing, breathless and fond, but tips away from you enough to get his pyjama bottoms off and kicked away and hell yeah.
He runs his fingers through your folds and you gasp. Your hips cant up towards his hand but it’s gone immediately, and the sight of him jacking his cock with your wetness makes you whimper.
“So wet,” he murmurs, guiding the head to your pussy. The previous teasing mirth has vanished and there’s only the dark, focused look as he presses forward and – “Fuck.”
“Yoongi!” you cry out. His fingers hadn’t done nearly a good enough job of stretching you. The burn of him as he pushes into you makes your eyes roll back as you feel him pepper kisses over your cheek, down your neck to your collarbone. “Oh –”
“I must be out of my fucking mind,” he grunts, bottoming out. You choke on a sob. His big hand kneads your tit and it feels so fucking good you think you’re going to lose your mind. “How did I go without this for so long?”
He pulls out almost all the way then thrusts back in hard. “Y-Yoon – “ you whine breathily, barely able to make a sound at this point.
“My gorgeous wife, in this bed every night, so needy. This perfect pussy — shit.” He sucks the other nipple into his mouth, buried in you so deep you can’t think of anything but the way he’s filling you so good. The way you hadn’t realized you’d needed.
You’re blubbering at this point, beyond words, as Yoongi chases his orgasm inside you. Kissing every part of you he can reach as the sound of his skin against yours fills the room, playing with your tits the way that drives you wild. You come again with a shout, tears streaming down your face.
“So pretty,” he murmurs, kissing the tears away. He’s still going, deeper now instead of fast. “Can you give me one more, love?”
You’re dizzy with pleasure and overstimulation, but he loves to come with your pussy squeezing him. “Yeah,” you pant. A kiss, slow and deep, as he pushes back in.
Your legs are wrapped so tightly around his waist he can barely pull all the way back out. All you can do is hold on as he takes what he wants from you.
“Shit, shit,” Yoongi groans, hips stuttering. He’s close. “Love you, pretty girl, so fucking good to me,” his voice low and raspy and warm right next to your ear. “Do I make you feel good?”
“Y-yes,” you manage to get out and you can feel his cock throb inside you, rubbing your g-spot and it’s enough. Your vision goes white and you see stars as your entire body tenses up and you tremble all over when it suddenly releases. “Yoongi!”
“Fuuuck,” he grunts. “Squeeze me just like that,” and he’s coming too.
You lay there, panting under Yoongi as he softens inside you. The sweat makes you stick together where you’re touching, and anywhere outside your bed it would make you push him away. But you’re content to lie under him, soft, laboured breaths puffing next to your ear.
“Should’ve used a condom,” you say hoarsely. There’s going to be a mess when he pulls out, you can already feel it.
“Fucking raw used to be so hot,” he sighs, kissing your cheek. “Now it’s a chore.”
Your snort turns into a gasp as he pulls out. Reaching for his discarded shirt, he cleans up as much of his come as he can. You watch him, eyes zeroed in on the mess, licking his lips.
“Reel it in.” You boop his nose and he scrunches it. “I really cannot go another round. You’re gonna have to drag me to the bathroom.”
--------------- xxx ---------------
And he kind of does. On a good day, he could definitely carry you. But after three weeks of touring and a semi-vigorous round of sex, he hitches you onto his back in some semblance of a piggyback. You actually could probably walk, but you know the mood Yoongi’s in.
He lets you pee, then comes to clean you up the rest of the way. Both of you wrapped in fluffy robes, he washes the sweat and tears off your face gently, brushes through your hair with his fingers. Puts up with your halfhearted whining about expensive skincare as he pats it carefully back onto your face.
By the time you’ve dragged yourselves back to bed, the California King large enough that you don’t worry about the mess you’ve made on the other side, all the tension has drained from his body. The frantic energy of performing in a foreign country alone for the first time, melted away.
He’s soft and sleepy when he hitches your leg over his hip, pulls your head onto his chest. “Thank you,” he mumbles. You don’t have to ask him what he means.
You laugh softly. “Silly,” you say, drifting off.
1K notes
·
View notes
Text
Put Your Records On
Pairing: Cat Hybrid!Yoongi x Human! F. Reader (you)
Genre: smut, fluff, strangers 2 lovers, hybrid!au, 18+
Appearances: Bunny!Jungkook, Fox!Jin, Human!Hoseok, Panther! Taehyung, Human! Jimin, Wolf! Namjoon
Word Count: ~30k
Warnings/tags: hybryd au! (there will be mentions of scenting, heats, and that sort of thing) let's start light with cursing, oral (f, m receiving), unprotected sex, creampies, light biting, breeding, fingering, m. masturbation, light voyeurism, oral (m2m), cum play, there's probably some other stuff i missed or simply refuse typing out here lol
a/n: this was supposed to be a small thing and then it evolved into what it is today (half plot half porn). i knew i was obsessed with kitty yoongi i just never realized i was this obsessed. this oneshot made me write things i never thought id write, it pushed me to my limits but I'm pretty proud of it. i hope you guys like it... there is so much smut also grammarly is a pain in my ass
○●○●○●○●○●
Like every morning for the past seven years, Yoongi walks to work with hands in his pockets and earbuds in his ears. The music blasting out of them does nothing to dampen the city noise as the extra pair of ears at the top of his head catches them. One of the downsides of being a hybrid, a cat one, to be precise.
Like every morning, he stops in front of a tall, glass-lined building that glimmers under the rising sun, and as always, he curses it out in his head (or under his breath) for ruining his dream. The same one that began when he first learned the purpose of the building. To become a music producer. He scowls at it for a whole minute before continuing to his destination. A minute a day is all the time he allows himself to rain on his parade.
He proceeds to walk to the small music shop tucked between a coffee shop and a comic book store. He unlocks the door fitfully, having to jiggle the keys expertly. There’s no chance of anyone stealing from the store when he can barely open the door himself. Turning on the stereo with the music of a new upcoming artist, he organizes anything he might’ve left out of place the night before and cleans the counters.
It’s become a routine for Yoongi to wake up, scowl at the glass building, go to work, endure people’s discrimination towards hybrids, close the store, go home, and go to sleep. He’s gotten so used to the repetition that when he has free time on Sundays, he feels at a loss on what to do. He’s tried opening the store those days, but then Lee, the closest thing to a father figure he has, would just get mad at him for not resting.
It’s not unusual for him to get new customers. Still, they are always the same sort of people, music students or hipsters who want to try and be cool with their indie music. Today though, he feels something change when a blue-haired girl walks into the store for the first time.
The bell jingles at the top of the door as you walk in, looking around the store before beelining to the aisle labeled ‘vinyl.’ Yoongi follows you with his eyes as his tail swishes behind him in curiosity.
You’d heard of this store from a co-worker and thought it would be the perfect place to find a gift for your brother, who’s recently started a vinyl collection. You rummage through the bins trying to find anything he might like but what you see is barely anything you’ve heard of before.
Yoongi stares at you without approaching you; he usually lets the customer decide if they need help. He’s lost count of how many times people have told him they don’t need the help of a hybrid. But as you move into the third bin of vinyl out of the few dozen in the store, he decides to make a move, or you’ll be here for hours.
“What are you looking for?” he asks straight to the point.
You look up, startled, not having heard him approach you. You can’t help but stare, not because he’s a hybrid but because he must be one of the hottest men you’ve ever seen in your life. Yoongi doesn’t take it that way, as he believes you’re judging him for what he is. Instantly his cat ears pin back, and his eyes narrow.
“Well?” He prompts rudely.
“Sorry, um…Yoongi.” You say, squinting to read his name tag, “I’m looking for a vinyl for my brother as a birthday gift.” You look at him nervously as you feel him judge your entire being, wishing you had worn more makeup today and not stained your sweater during lunch.
“Anything in specific you’re searching for? What is his music taste?” Yoongi asks, bored.
“He likes electro-pop.”
Yoongi nods and directs you further down the aisle, he organized the bins himself, and you were looking in all the wrong places. You should've noticed the signs hanging above the bins designating the music genre.
“You were searching in the jazz area. This is electro-pop,” Yoongi points out.
Blushing at your stupidity, you thank him and continue to search for a good artist your brother will like. Yoongi hums in acknowledgment and makes his way back to the cash register, waiting for you to finish and ringing out other customers.
As you shift through the albums, you look up occasionally to look at the hybrid called Yoongi. He sits on a wooden stool, staring out the window. The sun hits his pale face, making him look ethereal. If she was braver, she’d ask him out, but she knows there’s no way he’d like her back. He certainly didn’t show it when he helped her.
Finally, seeing more artists you recognize, you settle on two vinyls for your gift. You walk around the store seeing as it’s your first time in it, and you stop to look at accessories for production closer to the counter. Your eyes roam the equipment, and your hand urges you to touch it. You hold back because you don’t need anything right now. Wanting and needing are two different things you need to be conscious about.
Carefully placing the vinyls on the counter, you wait for Yoongi to ring the items up. He barely looks at you as he tells you the total. That’s okay, though, as it allows you to stare at him more discreetly; you are in awe of this man with his glossy dark hair and pink pout. How could you have formed a crush on a man who has only spoken five words to you?
Yoongi looks up at the lack of response, only to find you staring at him. He frowns deeply, disturbed by the situation. Her staring differs from the people who point at his ears or make off-hand comments, yet he can’t point out why.
“Hello?” He snaps to call her attention.
“Sorry,” you flinch, a blush covering your cheeks, contrasting the blue in your hair.
“Hope you’re brother likes them,” Yoongi tells her, putting both records in a bag.
“Thanks, me too,” you stutter out with a smile.
You promptly pay and leave the store. Outside you slap yourself on the forehead for being so awkward in the presence of Yoongi. Caught up reprimanding yourself, you fail to notice Yoongi staring at you from the window with a quirk on his lips.
Yoongi thinks you’re a little odd but pays you no mind. He believed you’d be more confident with hair like yours, in reality, you’re a little ditsy. It’s cute. You smelled good, too, not that he meant to smell you, but it’s hard not to with his heightened sense of smell. You smelled like chocolates and something florally yet not overwhelming.
To a hybrid, scents are everything they can tell a lot about a person, although sometimes they can be misled. Their smells can sense a person’s mood and overall persona. A handy thing to have when dealing with people who constantly discriminate against hybrids. Times might have changed, and hybrids might have their freedom now, but it can’t erase years of slavery and mistreatment.
○●○●○●○●○●
You keep returning to the store for the next month just to see Yoongi. You didn't know it back then, but now you know he's the only one that works in the store. At first, you would buy little things to have excuses to go there, then you started to leave empty-handed happy to have seen your 'kitty cat' as you've nicknamed him in your head. At around the third week of returning, he asked for your name. You stuttered it out as his response surprised you.
"That name doesn't suit you," he said, staring at you fixedly, "I'll just call you Blue."
"Very creative, Yoongi," you laugh, rolling your eyes.
And while Yoongi is unemotional, most of the time, you've been learning how to read him. A flick of his cat ears, the swishing of his tail, the way his nose scrunches up unbeknownst to him, or the way his mouth quirks up at the side. It all means different things, and you're starting to catch up, so when he sighs, shaking his head at your words, you know he's amused.
Yoongi has gotten used to seeing you every week. Unlike many of his customers, he'd greet you with a 'good morning' and send you off with a 'careful on the way home.' When you don't come to the store in more than a week, he finds himself worried, and as another week ends with no signs of you, he becomes slightly upset. Maybe he did something to upset you. He wants to know if you are okay or if there is anything wrong, but he comes up empty-handed.
He spends his Sunday sulking in his apartment. When he visits Lee, the old man notices instantly. He is delighted Yoongi is like this over a girl. He's been waiting too long for his boy to open up and get a girlfriend. Yoongi shuts it down almost instantly and clears up that you're only a customer. A friendly customer…
Monday morning bright and early, the bell of the shop jingles, and your scent wafts to Yoongi's nose, who is in the back getting more stock. He leaves the boxes behind as he rushes to the front.
"Morning, Yoongi," you greet him with a bright smile.
"You didn't come last week, Blue," Yoongi frowns, his pout very apparent and his ears twitching in annoyance, "I was worried."
"I'm sorry," you quickly apologize," I was out of town."
You hate to admit that you are happy he noticed your absence. Yoongi considers you a friend! Now you have to fulfill the promise you made to yourself. This is the perfect opportunity to ask him out. If he was worried about you, it meant he cared! If only a little.
"How about I make it up to you?" You ask slowly, looking up at him with hope in your eyes. For an extra measure, you use the advice of a friend and put your hair behind your ear to seem cuter.
"And how are you going to do that?" He asks stoically, crossing his arms.
"Let me take you out to this coffee shop on Sunday. They have local artists playing music. And before you say no because of the shop, I know it's your day off," You rush through your words before he rejects the idea.
Yoongi is surprised at your idea of making it up to him, and it shows on his face. He's unsure of what to say but gauging the fact he spent his Sunday worrying over nothing, he accepts. "Alright, you're paying, though."
"Yeah, of course!" You say excitedly, which gets Yoongi smiling.
Despite seeing each other for many weeks, you hadn't had a reason to exchange numbers until now. He writes his phone number on your phone, and you can't resist having his contact as 'Kitty Cat,' not that he notices. If he did, you were sure he would be dramatic about it. Opening the camera app, you tell him to smile, it takes a few tries, but eventually, he settles and shoots the camera a half smile.
Yoongi does the same with you. After writing down your number, he assigns the contact as 'Blue' and snaps a picture of you. Only he didn't ask you to smile; he only called your name and snapped it. You beg him to change it, but he laughs and shoots down the idea. The picture he took got your essence to a tee. While you thought it was atrocious, he thought you looked cute with the wide-eyed stare and everlasting smile on your face. Your messy baby hairs and fluffy sweater only added to your charm.
That Sunday, Yoongi waits for you by the train station. He bites his nails as he waits, a nervous habit he can never get rid of. After accepting going out with you, he began wondering if this was a date. You never specified what it was for you. Yoongi has noticed your stares and how you hang on to every word he says. He also might've heard you speaking about him on the phone outside the store about how cute he was and how he made you giddy.
He's never really been in a relationship, and he's not sure he wants one, either. It's not like he's never been attracted to someone or had his flings, but they've all been with other hybrids, not a full human. He believes he knows you and you have the best intentions, but he's guarded. In the past, he's dealt with humans that are great at first until their true colors show, and they turn into the worst. It's hard getting over his trauma.
With lots of second thoughts, Yoongi is about to bolt from the train station. His fight or flight kicked in over the whole situation. It's one thing to see you around the store, but everything will change once he breaks the barrier and starts seeing you outside of it.
It's too late as you spot him in the train station and wave at him. "Hey, Yoongi!" You chirp, giving him a hug in greeting.
"Are you okay?" You place a hand on his shoulder. You noticed when you were nearing him that he was tense and fidgety. His tail is flat against his body, unlike how it usually swishes around him. Maybe he's not feeling up to the plans for today.
"All good, lead the way!" He responds with a nod and a small smile.
Yoongi is uncomfortable as you walk side by side on the sidewalk. The coffee shop is on the other side of town, in a nicer part of town, to be exact. As a teenager, he never had a great experience in these places where people with money think they can ask for anything with the right amount of money from a poor homeless hybrid. The sad part is sometimes he was so desperate that he agreed to their requests. He's not proud, but he did what he had to survive, and now he's in a better place.
The coffee place barely resembles a coffee place. Inside are tables gathered around a small stage; where the coffee usually sits, there is alcohol instead. When Yoongi points it out, you mention that it's a fully functioning coffee place during the day, and at night it shifts to a speakeasy.
"Where would you like to sit?" You ask Yoongi sweetly, thinking about the speakers that might bother him if you sit too close.
"Over here is okay," Yoongi says, leading you to a table near the back.
You notice the speakers don't point directly at the table. You're proud of yourself for thinking about his heightened sense of hearing.
There is silence when you sit at the table. Internally, you're banging your head against the table for not thinking of something to talk about ahead of time. You want to talk to him and get to know him. How do you start, though?
Yoongi, on the other hand, is perfectly happy in the silence. He's never felt the need to make unnecessary conversations. After inspecting the room, he looks at you. You look beautiful today. Your blue hair is nicely curled, with little strands framing your face. You're wearing a fluffy blue sweater that fades into white and pink that begs him to touch it and a black mini skirt. Overall, very cute. He tried to say it while you walked to the coffee shop, but his mouth didn't cooperate, leading him down a different route.
There was a question burning his tongue. A matter of what situation they are in right now. It all started as a way to make it up to him, but he can't help but feel there's more to it. Although he thought of running before, he's concluded that a date would be okay. He's in control of his life now, and if he wants something to stop, he can say it.
"Blue?" He breaks the silence; you had been looking at the stage where the first performer was setting up.
"Yes?" You smile at him gently, waiting for his question. He loved that about you, just how patient and soft you are.
"What is this?" he asks, pointing his finger between the two of you. Upon noticing your confusion, he adds, "Is this a date or just an outing of two friends?"
Your cheeks instantly flare up. Maybe you hadn't made it as obvious as you thought, "I was hoping this would be a date."
Yoongi nods at your words and gives you a small smile, "I was too."
A waiter eventually approaches the table, taking both of your drink orders. A casual conversation then erupts between the two of you. You learn that he's been working at the store for nearly ten years. In exchange, you talk about one of your hobbies, photography.
"I never asked but did your brother like the vinyl?" Yoongi wonders, taking a sip of his whiskey.
"He loved them. Turns out I know his taste pretty well," you giggle, remembering your brother's excitement over the records. He had all but jumped into your arms in a big hug. "He mentioned visiting the store one of these days to get more."
"Does he live around the area?"
"Yes! He's currently in the university nearby," You chirp, mixing your cocktail. Your foundation may hide most of your imperfections, but it can't hide the flush of the alcohol.
"Good for him," Yoongi replies in surprise. That's one expensive and prestigious university. It makes him wonder about your family and what they do; he refrains. That's a subject for another day.
Yoongi had misjudged the coffee shop earlier. He thought the performers would be pretentious people who thought they knew about music. He'd also thought they would all be humans. But as the performers go on, he notices most of them are hybrids, and the people at the tables around them are too. "How did you find this place?"
"One of my friends works here, and the other will perform later."
Jung Hoseok is one of your great friends. You two used to work together until he decided he needed a break from everything some months ago. Next thing you know, he's managing a coffee shop and hosting music shows.
"Actually, I think I see him now," you say, waving your hand delicately toward Hoseok. Yoongi looks in his direction and sees a handsome man with a bright smile. It makes him insecure.
"I'm so glad you're here, sweetheart," Hoseok exclaims, approaching the table and leaning down to hug you, "Who is this?" He asks with a twinkle in his eyes. Hoseok had already heard everything about the cute, brooding hybrid cat.
"This is, Yoongi, my date," you say, "Yoongi, this is Hoseok, the friend I just told you about."
"Nice to meet you." Yoongi shakes the man's hand firmly.
"Don't forget about me," a deep voice says from behind Hoseok.
If Yoongi thought Hoseok was handsome, he is at a loss for words to describe the man or, rather, the hybrid that pops up beside him. The panther hybrid swoops in to hug you, too, whispering in your ear how gorgeous you look. It angers Yoongi that he couldn't say it beforehand because it means he is not the reason for the blooming blush that covered most of your face and neck.
"This is Taehyung," Hoseok introduces the panther hybrid, "Tae, this is her date, Yoongi."
Hoseok and Taehyung try very hard to hide their curiosity and glee. They've wanted to meet Yoongi for weeks, so they were ecstatic when you told them you'd bring him around. They were spying on you from the back, where Taehyung was using his heightened hearing to translate your conversation.
"You're going to perform tonight?" Yoongi asks the panther.
"It's my first time. I'm a little nervous," Taehyung responds, fidgeting with his hands.
"You'll be okay; you've practiced so much," You reassure him, reaching for his hand.
"Thanks, honey," Tae smiles at you.
"We'll leave you two to your date. I gotta go present the next performer," Hoseok says, pulling Tae away from the table, whispering in his ear to tone it down before he scares Yoongi away.
Yoongi finds them both pleasant, even if Taehyung is touchy with you. It's like there was something between the two of you. He doesn't want to jump to conclusions, though, so he ignores it for now.
As another performer finishes, you stand from the table, "I need to speak to Hoseok for a moment. Is that okay?"
"Of course."
His eyes follow you discreetly, watching as you speak to Hoseok. It appears as if the conversation is serious as Hoseok's smile drops. Yoongi focuses as much as he can on listening to the conversation, but it's hard when the new singer on the stage picks up the ante and strums the guitar louder. He can make out your lips as you say 'please,' but Hoseok only shakes his head no and says what Yoongi believes is an apology.
When you return, you smile at him as if nothing has happened. The rest of the show plays out. You pay as promised and head out into the cold night. Yoongi wants to bring up your conversation with Hoseok, but that's not his place. Besides, it seemed like it troubled you, and he didn't want to ruin the night.
"Did you like the show?"
"It was great; truth be told, I wasn't expecting to see as many hybrids," Yoongi confesses, stuffing his hands in his pocket.
"The owner is very pro-hybrid. It's one of the few places around here that are like that. I thought you'd like it, considering you always have the little stand on your counter." You refer to the local artists' tapes he keeps on the checkout counter; every week, he has a new one on display. You're unsure where he finds them, but you appreciate it as it helps you find new artists.
"I did, thank you," Yoongi smiles down at you and notices how you rub your hands together to warm them up. "Are you cold?" He doesn't wait for your answer as he takes your hands in his to warm them.
"How are you so warm?" You giggle.
"It's a hybrid thing," he mutters, a bit embarrassed. He's always been insecure about the things that make him a hybrid.
"I wish I was always that warm. My hands are always cold," you cutely pout.
Feeling brave, Yoongi says, "I can keep them warm."
You nod appreciatively, afraid of your voice betraying you. You walk the rest of the way hand in hand, and when you arrive at your departing point, you kiss his cheek. "For an amazing night."
"Will I see you at the store?" He asks shyly.
"Definitely."
○●○●○●○●○●
Time with Yoongi goes by so quickly. As promised, you return to the store, and Yoongi invites you out on another date in exchange. Your relationship progressed as the leaves began changing color. You didn't visit the store as much anymore as you visited each other's home. You were no longer the cute ditsy customer but the girlfriend.
You're so lucky to have Yoongi; he's much more than the grumpy cat you met. He's funny and extremely affectionate (in private, of course). It took you by surprise the first time he lay in your lap and asked you to touch his ears. You know it's a big no-no to touch a stranger's animal ears, but then again, you were no longer strangers. As you had your internal debate, Yoongi lay there with eyes closed, waiting for you. Silently praying you wouldn't be put off by it, his doubt was put to rest when you began softly stroking his pointy cat ears.
"Finally," he muttered, sinking further into your lap.
"Have you ever heard the saying good things come to those who wait?" You sass at him. Yoongi instantly relaxes, releasing a sigh of pleasure. You're weak for him, though, as your fingers brush through his hair and rub the base of his ears. He doesn't answer your question; instead, he falls asleep on you.
You're not sure if it's a Yoongi or a cat thing, but he loves his naps. Nine times out of ten, whether you're at his apartment or yours, Yoongi will nap for a few minutes, more if you're rubbing his ears. A trait you know comes from his cat side is looking for a spot in the house where the sun hits just right. You first noticed it at the store, and you thought it was because that's where the cash register is. Then you learned he moved the register closer to the big window to sunbathe. In fact, his apartment is set up in a way where his couch is mainly illuminated by the sun.
Something that is definitely a hybrid thing is scenting. You often caught Yoongi touching you or rubbing his head against your neck, a clear sign of scenting. Another way he does it is by giving you his hoodies or t-shirts. He gets all smug whenever you leave his apartment with his clothes, and whenever you return with his hoodies, and his scent is all faded, he switches them out. He wants to make it known to other hybrids that you are his.
For playing the stoic, serious guy, Yoongi loves kisses. Tiny kisses, pecks on the lips, kisses on the cheek, forehead kisses, full-blown makeout sessions, any type of thing involving kisses, he is there. You're favorite thing, though, is making him purr while you kiss.
In the past, you learned that some cat hybrids can purr and others don't, genetic differences between them or whatever. One day you were straddling his lap in a heated makeout session (one he started) and discovered he's one of the ones that purr.
Startled, you pull back with swollen lips, "What was that?"
"Nothing," Yoongi says, trying to pull you back by the back of your neck into another kiss.
"Was that a purr, Yoongi?" You insist with a teasing smile on your lips.
Yoongi, embarrassed, denies it. Furrowing his eyebrows with a pout, he mumbles, "Don't be ridiculous."
You smile at him and kiss him hard, grinding against him, "Do it again."
"I don't know what you're talking about," Yoongi moans, guiding your hips over his lap.
"Do. It. Again," you say in between kisses, "It felt amazing."
"It did?" Yoongi asks with a vulnerable look. He's always been somewhat embarrassed by his cat tendencies because he has had to hide them for many years. In his head, the more human he is, the better. It gives people less ammo when they decide to be rude.
"Mhm," you nod, swiping his lipstick-stained lips with your thumb. "Honestly, it's a turn-on," you whisper in his ear.
"You'll have to figure it out then 'cause I'm not telling you," Yoongi drawls, squeezing your hips.
"Let's get to it, then," You say seductively, kissing him again.
It takes you no more than ten minutes to figure out it's all in the hair. Whenever you pull the hair on the back of his neck, Yoongi purrs like there's no tomorrow. Minutes later, you make another discovery. The purrs are especially good when he's going down on you.
"Fuck, Yoongi," you moan, gripping his hair in your fist. It's a double-edged sword you have; you pull his hair due to the overwhelming pleasure, but it makes him purr even more.
There's no way for you to close your legs as Yoongi is settled right between them. He holds tightly to your thighs with one hand as he flicks your clit with his tongue and works two fingers into you. Neither of you is sure how you got into this position, but there are no complaints.
"I'm not sure if you want me to stop or not," Yoongi teases you with a smirk, leaving kisses over one of your thighs, although his fingers continue their assault. The sound of your wetness, along with your moans, resonates through the room.
"Don't even think about it, kitty cat," you respond, propping up on your elbows. Your head tilts back with a loud moan when Yoongi rubs against that spot.
Yoongi glares at the nickname and bites just where he kissed you. He detests the nickname, so he gets testy whenever you call him that. You whine at the momentary pain, but it turns you on even more.
"Forgot you were a pain slut," Yoongi says with all the intent in the world. He hates being called 'kitty cat,' and you hate the term 'pain slut.' Now you're even.
You glare, pushing him away and shuddering as his fingers leave you empty. Your skirt falls back into place as you sit back on the couch with a pout that's supposed to make you look angry. Yoongi holds back a laugh, knowing you love being dramatic. He moves into a sitting position and grabs your hand, pulling you into his lap, where you can perfectly feel his hard-on over his sweats. His sticky fingers are on your side, playfully squeezing you.
"Don't be so pissy. You know I'm joking," Yoongi chuckles, kissing your shoulder. His hands trail over your body, squeezing your clothed chest before delving between your thighs, but you remain emotionless.
"What's wrong? Cat got your tongue?" Yoongi jokes, kissing the point in your neck that makes you ticklish.
"That's not funny," you scoff, trying to hide the smile dying to come out.
"You're right, it's not," Yoongi agrees, "I'm sorry, Blue." He props his head on your shoulder with a pout, despite your messy blue hair tickling his face.
"I'm sorry too," you say rather unwillingly, turning to him.
"That's my girl," Yoongi smiles, gripping your chin to kiss you.
You squeal when he stands up, taking you to the bedroom to finish what he started.
○●○●○●○●○●
One fall afternoon, you bring Yoongi lunch to the store. He received a big batch of inventory and missed his lunch hour. Your hours at work are flexible, so you stop by one of the restaurants near the store and pick up his favorite.
"Yoongs, I'm here," you call out, not seeing him by the register.
"Back here, Blue!" You only see his hand waving from behind a pile of boxes. You leave the food at the counter and go around the boxes to see him sitting on a small stool organizing the new batch of CDs.
Wrapping your arms around his shoulders, you kiss his cheek. "Come eat before it gets cold."
"One second," he mutters, stacking the CDs in a neat pile before he stands.
"Hi," he smiles at you pecking your waiting lips. You walk back to the front of the store with his hand in yours.
You and Yoongi keep a pleasant conversation going as he eats and checks out customers simultaneously. Some clients come with questions you're more than happy to take care of. All the time you've spent at the store paying off. When he's finished and the store is empty of customers, he pulls you between his legs. Instantly, you know what he wants. It's his favorite thing in the world.
"Don't act so cocky," he murmurs against your lips.
"You're too cute." Your giggle is cut short by a kiss. Yoongi moves his lips expertly against yours, stealing your breath away. His arms keep you close to him, you also feel his tail by your side as if trying to curl around you.
A moan is heard through the empty store when Yoongi nips at your bottom lip. He smiles into the kiss, proud of himself. You're so reactive to his touch. He doesn't have to do much to get you like putty on his hands.
One of his palms sneaks under your shirt, meeting with the band of your bra. Yoongi's thumb brushes over the cup, teasing at how close he is. In turn, you find yourself palming him over his jeans. He's not fully hard, holding back if anyone walks into the store.
"Don't start something you can't finish," Yoongi tells you, kissing up and down your neck.
"We can flip that sign around and go to the back room," you pant as Yoongi leaves open-mouthed kisses against your jaw.
Yoongi is about to agree when the bell at the top of the door jingles obnoxiously. Jumping apart, you keep your distance. It's an older woman who barely spares a glance towards the two of you. She continues on her way, searching for whatever.
You pout at Yoongi, who only shrugs, pecking your cheek. The woman then appears with an old cassette of an even older artist. Yoongi had those in the back of the store with a few cassette players. He says it's for the old music teachers who reject the artists of this generation. It's a business, and he needs something for everyone.
He rings her out and hands her the paper bag. The old woman looks between the two of you with an indignant look. "Honey, you can do so much better." She says with a frail voice filled with audacity.
Yoongi tenses beside you and is about to say something to the lady when you stop him, "What are you trying to say?" You ask in a daring tone. You need to know if this woman has the guts to voice her thoughts.
"That you can do so much better than a filthy hybrid. They are beneath us, just like any other animal would be. Why don't you find yourself a nice human boy to settle with?" She states as if it's the most obvious thing in the world.
Yoongi sags at the woman's words. He's fine being humiliated alone but not in front of you. It's just a reality check that your situation is just a thing in passing. You'll never truly like him or see him as your equal.
"First of all, lady, I don't need a man or a hybrid to settle or take care of me. I can do that perfectly fine. Second, this man you want to say is beneath me is the most kindhearted, loving, hard-working man I've ever met. Not to mention he's the hottest too. Now take your old ass cassette and never come back." You don't scream or raise your voice. You talk in a steady dangerous tone, and by the end, you are leaning against the counter, facing the woman.
She looks at you as if you've cursed her whole family. The moment you finish talking, she almost runs out of the store. Clearly, she hadn't expected that reaction. She probably wanted to rile Yoongi up to try and prove some stupid point she thinks she has about hybrids.
Turning to Yoongi, he's staring at you with a lustful look, "You really think that?"
"I do," you say, giving him the reassurance he desperately needs.
Yoongi steps around you, reaching for the sign on the door and turning it around to 'closed.' He grabs your hand when he returns, pulling you to the backroom. You barely get there when he pushes you against the door, kissing you feverishly. The way you stood up to the woman and defended him got Yoongi fired up.
"I fucking adore you," he gruffs before smashing his lips on yours.
He kisses you bruisingly hard, pouring all of his feelings into it. You reciprocate his eagerness, folding your arms around his neck. You didn't realize that defending Yoongi almost made him say those three little words. He's conscious it's far too soon for that, and maybe the heat of the moment made him think of them. Still, he needs to get the 'I love you' out of his system somehow, and what better way than fucking you in his back room.
"All this because I spoke up?" You giggle between kisses though it's interrupted by Yoongi sneaking his tongue into your mouth.
Yoongi is in a frenzy, squeezing any part of your body he can reach; your thighs, your ass, your arms, your back, your chest. He needs to feel you close, closer than ever before. With each touch, you moan into his mouth. If he didn't love kissing you so much, he'd allow himself to listen to them.
When you and Yoongi have sex, you always get on your knees first. You enjoy watching him struggle and get all flustered. His fingers knotting in your hair to get what he wants, making him believe he's the one in control. What can you say other than you find pleasure in giving him head?
It works out because as giving as Yoongi is behind closed doors, he's a selfish lover. He is quick to take what he wants from you; your hands, your breasts, your mouth, your cunt. You get pleasure along the way, he draws orgasm after orgasm from you, but it's all a ruse as he gets the most out of it. Whether it's your taste, your touch, or your mellifluous voice chanting his name. You make him feel victorious.
Today though, the roles are reversed as Yoongi breaks the kiss and drops to his knees. It's all about you at this moment; you've given him enough pleasure by defending him. You're lost in the moment; you don't question Yoongi's behavior. For you, this was just another horny adventure between the two of you.
The kneeling cat hybrid bunches the skirt up to your hips and pulls your panties down your legs in one swift movement. His actions are firm yet careful. Decided. He hasn't even touched you, and yet you're breathing heavily. Yoongi leaves wet kisses from your stomach down to your mound. Grabbing your leg, he props it over his shoulder, giving him perfect access to your center.
It's no secret you are wet. You have been from the moment Yoongi teased you earlier. Your body is somehow always ready for him. It doesn't help that you found everything he does sexy. Your breath hitches when his tongue licks a stripe from your opening to your clit, brushing over it with precise pressure.
Your fist finds its place in his hair, right between his cat ears. You buck your hips with each lick and suck, Yoongi's name falling from your lips. He only keeps his eyes trained on your flushed face and swollen lips. His grip on your thighs keeps you grounded as they clench each time you close your eyes for too long. Yoongi needs you to see him worshiping you on his knees.
It's a vicious pattern that Yoongi sticks to. Flicking your clit, fucking you with his tongue, nipping your thighs. It's enough and too much all at once. You'd be on the floor if it wasn't for the wall behind you.
Yoongi's feline-like eyes indicate he is enjoying this as they reflect his playfulness. Your heel digging into his back and your thighs tightening around him betray you, giving it away that you're close. Not like you were hiding it as curses left your lips.
Keeping a steady rhythm, he brings you to the edge and over the cliff. A selfless act 'cause if it were up to him, he'd edge you until you were begging and weeping. Your juices drip like a stream, and he acts like a man who spent the last year in the desert. Not a drop goes to waste.
Only when you lightly nudge him back does Yoongi stand from the floor. His grip on you does not ease as he stabilizes your swaying form. It doesn't take a genius to figure out you're weak in the knees.
"Fucking delicious," Yoongi purrs as he shares your taste with a kiss. Fear overtakes him at the thought of never savoring you again. There's no one as addicting as you, so sweet and intoxicating.
You grab onto his shirt, tilting your head to kiss him deeply. It's then that you feel his hard cock pressing against you. Poor kitty is being so good to you. Usually, he would've complained by now.
Yoongi breathes into your ear as if on cue, "I need you, Blue."
"You have me, Yoongi," you reassure him, pulling his clothes, desperate to get them off.
You unbuckle Yoongi's belt and pop the button off his pants, digging your hand underneath to grip his cock. He is warm and heavy on your palm. Yoongi releases a throaty moan as you pump his cock, squeezing him lightly.
You kiss the column of his throat as he throws his head back in pleasure. Releasing him momentarily, you take off your sweater, making you hot and sweaty. Running out of patience, Yoongi pulls the cups of your bra down.
He turns you around by grabbing you by the shoulders. You brace your hands against the wall. From behind, Yoongi fondles your breast, pinching your pebbled nipples. He pecks your naked shoulder, biting when he ruts against your ass.
"I can't hold it anymore," Yoongi groans.
"Fuck me, Yoongi," you whine, arching your back and lifting up your skirt.
Yoongi spreads one of his hands on your upper back, forcing you to lean forward. With the other, he grabs his member, teasing you with the tip. Your arousal coats him instantly, and with one swift thrust, he forces his cock into you.
Both of you moan in unison. The pace is slow at first until Yoongi starts thrusting faster and harder. His grip is tight around your waist; you wouldn't be surprised to find marks there later. You remove one of the hands from the wall to find Yoongi's. He holds it against your waist, squeezing it every so often. His groans are like music to your ears. The way his voice gets deeper and raspy, you could cum just by hearing him speak.
Your walls feel so good around him. You'd tighten around him every so often; it would make him falter. The more you tense around him, the closer he gets. He pulls your back to him, so you're pressed against him. Yoongi buries his head on your neck, breathing in your sweet scent and a hand between your legs. He clumsily rubs your clit, making you climax in no time. It's perfect as the waves of pleasure push him to spill into your warm pussy.
There's a moment where you both stay in that same position, catching your breath. Yoongi is inside you, his head on your neck, arms wrapped around your stomach. You hold onto him as best as you can with your eyes closed. He's so close to saying, 'I love you,' but fear of rejection stops him. He could live without you knowing but not without you.
You shudder when he slips out of you. If it were up to him, he'd take you home and do it all over again, but you're expected back at work. Yoongi quickly helps you clean up and find your clothes strewn around the back room. Which is easier said than done.
"Shit, I have to go," you exclaim after reading a text.
"What happened?" Yoongi asks, handing you your sweater that had been covering a lamp.
"I have a meeting in half an hour," you mumble, putting on your sweater.
You rush out of the music store with a quick look in the mirror and sore legs. Your colleague is waiting for you when you open your office door. When you sit on your chair, you realize something is off.
You don't have any panties on. Yoongi, that fucking sneaky cat must've kept them.
○●○●○●○●○●
It had been a long week for you, with many deadlines and projects. Yoongi knows how hard you push yourself, so he worries when he calls to see how your day is and doesn't receive the response he usually gets. Something is wrong with you; that's all Yoongi knows. Yoongi changes quickly and gets takeout knowing you probably still need to eat.
He arrives at your apartment in record time, pulling out the key from his pocket to unlock your door. Yoongi has been spending so much time with you, you thought it would be easier if he had a key to your place. A week later, he gave you a key to his place. It was only fair.
He searches the familiar apartment, trying to find you, but you're not there. You're home, though, as your keys hand from the hook and your comforting scent welcomes him. He knocks on your bedroom door, and slowly, he opens the door. You're not on the bed, but that's when he sees the light coming from the bathroom.
"Blue?" He calls out from behind the door.
"I'm here," your quiet voice responds with a sniffle.
He opens the door to find you in the tub, hidden by soap bubbles. Your eyes are red-rimmed and wet. The addition of your red nose confirms you've been crying for a while.
"What's wrong, Blue?" Yoongi tenderly asks, kneeling by the tub to be eye to eye.
"Just had a horrible day at work," you sniff, hiding your face with fading blue hair. It's ironic how it matches your mood. "And my damn hormones are making things worse."
"You want to talk about it?"
You shake your head no as tears fill your eyes again. Work has been stressful this past week, with so many deadlines and little inspiration. The more you work, the less motivation you have. You've only been working at the company for 3 years. How will you manage to do it your whole life?
"Want cuddles?" Yoongi asks, brushing your hair out of your face.
Seeing you shake your head, yes, he undresses and gets into the tub with you. The fact you're on your period does nothing to impede him. It's just blood.
He hugs your shoulders and makes you lean against his chest. The water is hot enough to turn his skin pink and make him sweat, but his goal right now is to comfort you.
Yoongi kisses your head and lays his cheek on the top of your head. Feeling another wave of frustration and pain, tears pour out of your eyes. Knowing what you need, Yoongi gently massages your abdomen to ease the painful cramps. It's meant to be an act of both emotional and physical comfort.
"I'm sorry I'm crying over nothing. It's so stupid." Your hand rises from the water to wipe away your tears, yet it stops midway and falls back into the steaming tub of water. It's pointless; more will retake their place.
"It's not stupid, Blue," he whispers in your ear. "What you're feeling is real; the only way you'll feel better is to let it out." Yoongi is familiar with pain. It's like an old friend, always in the back of his mind.
Yoongi's words cause more tears to fall into the bath water. You're sad and angry, and frustrated at everything except for Yoongi. You're happy he's there with you, the highlight of your day. There's no way you're letting him go from your life. The past boyfriends you've had never treated you the way Yoongi does. They were alright. They just didn't pay attention to details.
With the water turning cold Yoongi gets out to heat up dinner. He sets up the table with a candle in the middle. You're a romantic; it'll cheer you up. You shuffle into the kitchen area with the hoodie he left in the bathroom and sweatpants. Yoongi smiles sweetly at you, motioning you over.
He had placed the plates facing each other, but you take yours and put it beside his, scraping the chair over the floor to sit beside him.
"Thank you." You kiss his cheek and begin to eat.
With him being right-handed and you being left-handed, there is no way he can hold your hand while you eat. Still, you feel his tail brushing against your back, providing that comfort.
○●○●○●○●○●
"There he is! The man of the hour!" A blonde man called Jimin yells, seeing Yoongi walk into his apartment.
"I'm surprised he even remembered how to get here," the fox hybrid Jin adds, uncorking a wine bottle.
Those two men are his best and only friends. Yoongi ignores them both, dropping his backpack on the couch. He first met Jin at the supermarket, where a man was throwing off-hand comments, and the hybrid fox stepped in. He acted as if he had known Yoongi all his life and glared at the man, bearing his teeth. The man left, instantly scared that he might get bitten. Jin laughed in pure glee. His fangs might be sharper than humans, but the rest are the same. He loves scaring humans; they are so stupid.
Different from when you defended him, Yoongi was less enthusiastic with Jin. He got into an argument with Jin about how they would get kicked out, what people might think, and a whole dilemma on hybrids' appearances going downhill because of people like Jin. This was 8 years ago when Yoongi was young and much more insecure than he is now. Jin has been the one to help him ease up and accept himself.
Yoongi's still figuring out how Jimin came to be. He was Jin's coworker; the fox had invited him to hang out with him and Yoongi. The rest is history. He's never left them alone since. It took a long time for Yoongi to warm up to him, though he thinks it was part of Jin's therapy to make him more tolerant of humans. Not all of them are bad people.
"You're being exaggerated," Yoongi gruffs, sitting on the kitchen's bar stool.
"Exaggerated? We haven't seen you in nearly two months," Jin scolds him. His voice is reprimanding, but his body movements are smooth and controlled as he places a wine glass in front of Yoongi.
"What has you so busy, Yoongi?" Jimin curiously asks. He takes a swing of the wine glass, grimacing at the dryness of it. He's always preferred white wine.
"Nothing, I wanted some distance from you two always annoying me," Yoongi jests, ignoring their complaints.
"Or counteroffer he has a girlfriend," Jin then says knowingly, "That usually gets people busy." Yoongi's silence confirms his suspicions. Jin's tail puffs up in victory.
"Pay up, Jiminie!"
"Fuck," Jimin whines, patting his pockets and pretending to look for his wallet, "I left my wallet in the car."
Jin rolls his eyes at the lies. It's okay because he knew Yoongi had a girlfriend before they made a bet. Last week, he had walked by the store to see Yoongi and saw the two of you all chummy. Jin hovered outside for a minute, debating whether he should make himself known. Ultimately, he chose against it knowing Yoongi likes his privacy, especially regarding his love life.
"You were betting on me?" Yoongi exclaims in outrage. They're always betting on silly things. This is the first time they bet on their best friend. Their gambling problem is officially a problem.
"Don't ask stupid questions. Of course, we were," Jin laughs, his black pointy ears flat on his head.
"So the girlfriend? Is she hot? Have you played cat and mouse?" Jimin asks. Yoongi instantly kicks him under the table.
In the 6 years of being friends, Jimin has only witnessed one person leaving Yoongi's apartment, which was a sexy mouse hybrid. That day he also learned that Yoongi plays both ways. Ever since, he teases Yoongi by calling sex 'playing cat and mouse.'
"This was too good to be true," Yoongi huffs. This is why Jin invited them to a dinner he would cook.
Jin refuses to cook outside of his job. He's a chef at a Michelin-star restaurant, and when he's at home, he'll eat frozen dinners or takeout. A paradox of sorts, really. While Jin enjoys cooking, it also feels like a chore, so he won't do it at home. Part of it is his ego; he wants the praise that comes with being an incredible chef.
When Yoongi received the text from Jimin that Jin was cooking he almost ran to Jin's place. A free gourmet dinner? Sign him up. Despite being misled Yoongi stays. He can entertain Jimin and Jin for a few hours. There's food being prepared and multiple bottles of wine on the kitchen counter.
One glass of wine in, and he tells them the bare minimum of his relationship. Two drinks in, and he tells them you were the one to ask him on a date.
Jin is so proud to hear she is human, he's done a great job with Yoongi. Part of Jin's plan is to get him tipsy enough to loosen his tongue, which is why he picked one of the dishes that take the longest to cook. Is it wrong? Possibly, but if he doesn't do it, Yoongi will never give any info.
"She's so cute," Yoongi giggles sipping on the fifth glass, "She defended me the other day when some bitch said she deserved better."
"I take it you're happy, Yoongi?" Jimin asks him, head propped up in his hands. He's more than tipsy, getting carried away by the expensive wine Jin bought.
"I thought I was happy as I was, but then she was just there, and I got so excited when she visited the store. She's soft and kind and doesn't complain about all the kisses. She liked when I purred!" Yoongi says as if it's an outrage.
"We like it when you purr, you ungrateful cat!" Jin shouts, waving around the wooden spoon, splatters of food staining the counter.
"No, you guys tease me about it," Yoongi argues.
"That doesn't mean we don't like it!"
They don't get around to eating Jin's delicious food because they are all too drunk to think when it's done. Jin got too carried away with the timing of the food. Jimin tapped out first, disappearing from the kitchen. Jin and Yoongi resisted longer as their hybrid bodies metabolized alcohol slower.
Yoongi, who is usually quiet, can't stop talking about you. Jin, who is a total gossip, is eating up his words. It's a clear indication the pair is wasted. That and the fourth empty bottle of cabernet.
"Jin, I swear she's driving me insane. She's insatiable, and I fucking love it," Yoongi smiles widely. He's lovestruck and way too drunk. You would surely be furious if you heard how he was talking about your relationship.
"Wow, you finally found someone that keeps up with you." Jin is astonished. Yoongi has a high sex drive. When Jin got him to go out clubbing, he would always leave with someone. Hell, there were times when Yoongi would have someone with him during his heats. He had all the contacts.
"God, she has given me the best head of my fucking life, and she loves it too, always on her fucking knees. Look at this."
Yoongi doesn't think as he pulls a Polaroid out of his wallet. Given your hobby of photography, you have many cameras around the apartment. One day, he didn't hesitate to reach out and snap a pic.
It's a picture of you on your knees, Yoongi's cock in your tiny hand, and your blue hair in two braids barely covering your chest. Yoongi's ring-clad hand is holding your cheeks, forcing you to open your mouth to show his white cum in your mouth.
"Lucky son of a bitch," Jin gasps, staring wide-eyed at the photograph.
Yoongi is too drunk to realize how bad it is that he's sharing a picture made only for his eyes. Luckily, Jin is too drunk to remember it in the morning.
Laughing loudly, Yoongi stumbles into Jin's living room. The fox is behind him, yelling at him for rubbing in his face his thriving sex life. Jin feels guilty about the tightness in his pants, he can't help it. He has been single for too long and his job keeps him busy leaving no room for one-night stands. The only release is the one his hand provides.
Yoongi trips on Jimin, sleeping on the floor, his chubby cheek squishing onto the carpet. The room is spinning for the cat hybrid; he barely manages to fall on the couch face down, getting knocked out instantly.
The following day Yoongi wakes up with a splitting headache and a kink in his neck. He stumbles into the kitchen to get water and finds a puffy-faced Jin. He has a spoon in his hand as he eats the untouched food from last night straight from the pot.
"I'm a culinary genius," he talks with his mouth full.
Yoongi grabs the spoon Jin offers him and digs in. He moans at how delicious it is, even if it's cold and he's not quite sure what it is. This is what he came for last night.
"How did I let you fool me again?" Yoongi wonders. It's not the first time Jin has done something like this to get him to join them.
Despite their headaches, both hybrids laugh loudly, the older one choking on the food. Yoongi laughs louder, patting him on the back. He loves his two friends; it's just that he loves being on his own, too, and they can be clingy as fuck. He appreciates it when they reach out, though.
Jimin appears in the doorway with an indignant look on his face. "Some of us are trying to sleep. What has the two of you giggling like a bunch of schoolgirls?"
○●○●○●○●○●
"Help."
Yoongi looks up from the sofa seeing you with your hair parted in chunks. There are strands of hair with blue hair dye and others without.
"What are you doing?" He stands, walking over to you to assess the situation.
"I can't reach the back," you say sheepishly. Whenever you dye your hair, you have friends with you to help you out. Hoseok has helped you a bunch of times as he's used to dyeing his hair. Your brother helps out too, seeing as he learned when he was a teenager to help you out.
You thought you could do it today on your own; you were desperate to revive your hair to the bright blue that you love. You were wrong because it got too messy and complicated as soon as you got to the strands in the back.
Yoongi sighs but follows you into the bathroom. He puts on a pair of gloves and, with your instructions, applies the blue hair dye. He'll be here a while; you have long hair and a lot of it. He hopes you have another dye tube because the one on the tray won't be enough.
"You're doing it wrong," you say for the third time since he started.
Yoongi pulls your hair lightly, forcing your head back to look up at him. He glares at you in warning; he's running out of patience. You reciprocate the glare. "Ouch."
"You're the one that needs help. Tone it down," Yoongi sighs angrily, brushing the dye on the top of your head.
"I'm just saying you're not adding enough," you snap, annoyed at Yoongi.
You should've known better than to ask for Yoongi's help; you're too much of a perfectionist. You're friends know you well enough already to handle your perfectionism. Still, it's something Yoongi has yet to see much of and needs to learn.
"No, you are saying it a whole other thing entirely. I'm no expert and doing you a favor, I don't need all the reprimanding." Yoongi argues, looking at you through the bathroom mirror.
"Fine then, leave," you grit, snatching the paintbrush from his hands to try and do it on your own.
Yoongi blows air out of his nose in anger, taking off his gloves on the way out of the apartment. He puts on his jacket and slams the door behind him.
Angrily you finish applying the hair dye. At this point, you don't care if it ends up patchy. That infuriates you more. While you wait to wash your hair, you slam each drawer and door in your apartment.
In the shower, you cool down and think of what you did again. Maybe, you were a little rough and reacted wrong. You didn't mean for it to come out as it did. Hurrying out of the shower, you get dressed in the first thing you find and leave for Yoongi's to apologize to your kitty.
Yoongi is at home staring at the TV. It plays a random action movie he can't bother paying attention to. You completely ruined his peaceful mood. His ears are flat on his back, clearly showing his anger. You had no reason to treat him that way, he always helps you out, comforts you, treats you like a damn queen, and then you repay him by acting like a total bitch.
He knows it's you when he hears the door. If you're here, you're probably going to apologize. He lets you knock a few more times out of sheer spite. When he opens it, he sees you with flowers and wine, and without a word, he lets you in.
You instantly catch that his mood could be better. Fair enough. "I'm sorry for my behavior earlier. I have no excuse for it."
"I'm glad you see it that way because I do every single fucking thing you want, and I don't warrant that type of treatment," he huffs, letting some of his frustration out.
"You don't have to do everything I want," you say passively, avoiding another argument. You leave the gifts on the kitchen counter.
"You don't get it?" Yoongi chuffs in disbelief, crossing his arms.
"Get what?"
"I do all those things because I like you and want to make you happy. When you treat me like I'm stupid, it drives me nuts. I don't deserve that."
"You're right, you don't," you agree instantly, "I understand if you want me to leave."
With your head hung, you reach for the door. You think that's what he means with his words. You think he's tired of you that you pushed him away with your bitch mood. You didn't mean to act that way; it just comes out sometimes, especially when you're PMSing.
"Come back, you idiot," Yoongi sighs.
Yoongi grabs your arm, slamming you against the door and kissing you hotly. How you irritate him drives him crazy, but you're not perfect, and neither is he. He'd rather work through it than let you go.
Your hands go under his oversized t-shirt, your nails dragging down his abdomen. Yoongi hisses in pain and wraps one of his hands against your throat, squeezing lightly.
"Don't ever speak to me like that, understood?" His voice is low and commanding.
You stare at him with wide eyes, feeling a wave of arousal. It's no secret that Yoongi has that effect on you, and it amplifies when he gets controlling like this.
"Say it, Blue." Yoongi repeats, tightening the fingers around your neck.
"I understand, Yoongi," you say seductively.
With his hand still around your neck, he smashes his lips on yours, teeth and tongue included. Your arms go around him, lightly tugging on his black tail, and his hips thrust as soon as you do. It never fails to surprise him. You've learned so much in the short time you've been with him.
Yoongi hoists you up, wrapping your legs around him, letting him carry you to his bedroom. The door slams against the wall as he indelicately drops you in the bed.
"Take off your clothes," he orders, sitting on the bed. He watches you with hard eyes, waiting for you to do as he says. "Today, Blue," he scorns when you take too long for his liking.
You don't know what's gotten into him, but you like it. Starting with your hoodie-the hoodie he left behind- you reveal a pretty white bra with flower details. Your leggings go next, then your bra, and lastly, your panties. Yoongi barely reacts, motioning you to continue with each piece you take off.
"Lay on the bed," he points with his head.
You crawl onto the bed, laying on the fluffy pillows that spill with his cologne. You're expecting him to join you, you couldn't be more wrong.
"Touch yourself," Yoongi nonchalantly speaks, tongue poking at his cheek in annoyance.
"W-What?" It shouldn't be a big deal you've had sex with Yoongi many times before, but this is different. Touching yourself is something you do in private, not under your boyfriend's scrutinizing gaze.
"Touch yourself, Blue. I know you do it. You think I haven't seen the toys you hide?" He mocks you with a mean smirk.
"Yoongi, I-"
"Touch yourself, now, and look at me while you do," he snaps, sending you a glare.
If you were to say no, that would be the end of it. Yoongi wouldn't force you to do anything you didn't want. He's confident you'd enjoy this, though…to an extent.
Complying, you begin by massaging your breasts, pulling on your hard nipples just like he does when he touches you. Shyly one hand trails down your stomach, and you open your legs, revealing your pussy that Yoongi happens to love so much. It's not an assumption. He's vocalized it many times. He swears he can cum just by looking at it.
Circling your clit with your fingers, you moan his name, calling him to take you. He ignores you, fixating on your actions. A single digit slides between your folds as it easily enters you. You're soaked. It's never the same as when he does it, not as satisfying.
Yoongi notices the glistening of your juices from the foot of the bed, small wet sounds come from your body, along with your whines for him. Your eyes close in instinct while you chase pleasure.
"Open your eyes." You obey his command, your eyes focusing on his face as he licks his lips. You insert two fingers, pumping them steadily, giving him the show he desires.
"How does it feel?" Yoongi inquires, holding your knees open with his strong hands when they clench at the pleasure you're bringing to yourself. He's kneeling right in front of you, entranced.
"Fucking good," you pant, your hand reaching for the one on your knee.
"Better than when I do it?" He asks, lacing your fingers together.
"No, never," you gasp. Yoongi's fingers know you better than you do yourself. They reach depths you've never explored. They are agile and strong due to his talent on the piano. He would touch you just as he does the keys softly at first, adding force when needed and caressing lightly once the piece's climax is over. Always ready to go again and again until he perfect's it.
"Add another one," Yoongi purrs. You've taken his cock many times now. You're always tight but so ready for him.
You replicate his movements when he touches you, curving your fingers until you find that spot. The squelching sound intensifies when you add that third finger, it's music to Yoongi's ears.
A high-pitched yell from you informs him of all he needs to know, "That's it, you found it, haven't you?"
"Yes," you say in a high-pitched moan, your legs try to clench, but Yoongi's strong hands impede you.
"Stop," he says before you cum, "I said stop, Blue!" he roars when you ignore him. You are so close. His hand grips your wrist, forcing you to stop. You open your eyes, hadn't realized they were closed.
"You never listen. Do you?" Yoongi condescendingly mutters.
"I'm sorry," you say, out of breath, hoping he'll join you to finish you off.
He shakes his head, ignoring your apology, "Go on, Lick your fingers."
Obediently you bring your fingers to your lips, licking them clean as per his orders.
"You taste delicious, don't you?"
"Mhm, but you're better." Your eyes are hopeful he'll have his way with you now.
"Too bad 'cause you're not getting it today," he mocks with a fake pout.
"What?" You ask, bewildered.
"Not after what you did today," he says, dipping one of his fingers between your fold, making you shiver. He brings that same finger to his lips, tasting you.
"Yoongi, I said I was sorry," you argue, sitting up on the bed, begging for him.
"And that changes what?" He cocks an eyebrow at your words.
He grabs your chin and kisses you deeply. You numbly follow along before he pulls away, "Get dressed and come out. There's a new episode of that show you like. Oh, and don't you dare cum."
"I don't get it! I'm here begging for you, and you won't touch me." You're upset, but more than that, you're horny. Yoongi is a drug you can't get enough of, and being denied of him sends you into a frenzy. "Wasn't my apology enough?"
"Blue, I forgave you the moment you got here," Yoongi smiles at you sweetly.
"Then why?" You ask, your shoulders slumping.
"Well, just because I forgave you doesn't mean you don't need a punishment."
"And no sex was the way to go. You could do so much better, Yoongi?" You taunt him, thinking this is the way he'll give you what you want.
"Says the girl who couldn't keep her hands to herself and brought me to her apartment on the second date," Yoongi teases her.
"Are you slut shaming me?" You gasp in disbelief.
"No, I'm just saying when it comes to me, you have no control," he shrugs.
"Please, next time I'm mad at you, we'll see who has no control," you pout, gathering your clothes strewn on the floor.
"Probably you. We know how you get when you're mad," Yoongi winks.
You wanted him, he was decided, though, and a stubborn Yoongi always wins. You get dressed again, only in his hoodie, hoping he changes his mind. He doesn't. He acts as if the fight never happened, cuddles you, and kisses you, but that night he doesn't touch you the way you want, ignoring all your advances.
The following day is a different story as Yoongi fucks you like you want, ravaging your body. Everything he held back the day before he uses to his advantage. You didn't hold back one bit as you begged Yoongi to fuck you harder. The neighbors will surely complain to the landlord about the unholy noises coming from his room.
○●○●○●○●○●
“Ah,” Yoongi’s moans are hidden by the water falling from the shower. He’s right below the shower head, cold water covering his body. The past three months have gone by so quickly that his heat surprised him.
His back leans against the shower wall as he rubs himself under the cold water. His hips thrust into his hand in desperate need. Yoongi whines in discomfort; his peak is too hard to reach alone. He would call you, but he’s not ready yet. He is not in complete control when he’s in heat, Yoongi knows he’ll say things that will throw you off, and it’s not like you’ll even agree to help him in the first place. You love sex, and you love sex with Yoongi, but this is something else entirely.
Yoongi moans as he continues to pump his cock. It feels so good yet so painful at the same time. The more he reaches his climax, the more the pain intensifies. If he had you here, he’d have you against the wall as he fucks you from behind. The thought sends another wave of heat through his body.
In his horny haze, he remembers something he stole from you, a little piece of you. He shuts off the water, not bothering to dry himself. He has the panties he stole from you that day at the shop on his nightstand drawer. They have your scent attached to them. Should be enough to let him cum.
Yoongi lies on his bed, sweat, and water sticking to the bed sheets. He grabs the soft fabric and envelops it in his aching length. Yoongi fists his length, imagining he’s with you, how your hands tighten around his cock, or how you like to choke on it when giving him head. Your tight fucking pussy always feels so good. He always needs to stretch you out with his fingers. His moves quicken; the only noise in the room is his desperate moans calling for you, for his Blue. Reaching his orgasm, he covers your panties with his cum. Momentarily his temperature lowers, and his breathing slows as he catches his breath. The first day is the worst. He just needs to get over this day.
If he’d been single, he would’ve called other hybrids he knew and had helped him before. He has you know he doesn’t want to disrespect you or your relationship. He’d be thinking of you even if he’s with someone else. Due to this, through the next two days, his hand becomes his best friend.
○●○●○●○●○●
It’s your six-month anniversary today, and after a romantic date, you and Yoongi desperately enter your apartment. Hands are everywhere, lips are swollen, and sex is in the air. Yoongi teased you all night under the dinner table, refusing to give you what you wanted. Your begging in his ear to fuck you in the car or bathroom not working in your favor.
The door to your apartment bangs against the wall as you push it open. Yoongi pushes you into the room, slamming the door behind him. He likes to think he has it memorized. He pulls your leg around his waist, grinding against you. You moan as he buries his head on your neck.
A cough and the scent of another hybrid force Yoongi to stop in his tracks. With narrowed eyes, he pulls away from your neck. A bunny hybrid stands at the living room entrance, a corn popsicle in his hand.
“For fucks sake Jungkook,” you say under your breath, creating distance between you and Yoongi. “How many times have I told you to call ahead?”
“I did, though! I sent you a message this morning,” he shrugs, taking a bite of his ice cream.
“The message says ‘What’s up?’” You read the message, expecting to see another one following up with an announcement of his visit. The bunny shrugs like it’s not his problem, and you sigh in annoyance.
Yoongi is confused, to say the least. Who is this stranger in your living room? Noticing his expression, you quickly introduce the two hybrids.
“Yoongi, this is my brother Jungkook.”
Yoongi’s confusion rises to a new degree; something is not adding up. Jungkook catches on to his train of thought, and with a chuckle, he adds, “Adopted.”
You had never mentioned your brother was a hybrid. You’ve been dating for six months, and that never came up once. He wonders why that is. It would explain the light hybrid scent in your apartment. Yoongi always thought it came from one of your neighbor’s apartments.
“Nice to meet you, Jungkook,” Yoongi coughs to ease the tension.
“How long are you staying?” You ask your brother, crossing your arms against your chest. You are slightly upset, today is meant to be a celebration, and with Jungkook here, that can’t happen. Still, you’re not mad. You love Kook; he’s your best friend.
“Just the weekend, I got an exam on Tuesday,” Jungkook says.
“You look really nice,” he tells you, “Were you guys on a date?”
Yoongi nods solemnly. He’s not sure what to do in this situation. He thought when he’d meet your family, it wouldn’t be in such a compromising condition. Granted, Jungkook being a hybrid helped ease his nerves. He doesn’t have to worry about a stranger judging him or you for your relationship.
“I’m sorry for interrupting,” Jungkook grimaces in apology.
“Does mom know you’re here?” You ask him while walking to your room.
Clearly, Jungkook is here to stay, so you’ll change and get more comfortable. There’s no use in staying in the uncomfortable dress and lingerie you’d worn for Yoongi. You can save it for next time and surprise him with the black lace set.
“Nope,” he simply says, following you to your room.
You close the door behind you, and Jungkook continues the conversation on the other side. While you forgot to mention that Jungkook is a hybrid, you mentioned that he has no boundaries and easily gets very comfortable with people.
Feeling out of place, Yoongi waits for you on the couch. Maybe with Jungkook here, you wouldn’t like him to stay, or you’d leave with him to his place. The bunny hybrid carefully eyed him as if assessing if he was a good guy or not.
Jungkook almost falls when you open the door. You’ve changed into his hoodie, shorts, and geeky superhero socks. It’s been getting colder lately, making your feet feel freezing. Whenever you go to bed with Yoongi, you press your cold feet on his thigh, making him hiss. Then you’d remind him of his promise of keeping you warm six months ago.
“I couldn’t find the banana milk,” Jungkook pouts, following you around the apartment.
“It’s on the pantry’s lowest shelf,” you mention, flopping on the couch beside Yoongi.
You cuddle on his side when he wraps an arm around your shoulder. Jungkook returns to the living room, eyeing the both of you.
“Jungkook, don’t be so awkward,” you laugh at him, patting the seat beside you.
“I feel bad I interrupted you guys night,” he admits, flopping beside you like you did moments ago. It’s hard to say who got that from who.
“It’s no problem, Jungkook. I’m happy to finally meet you,” Yoongi adds that it’s no biggie.
Jungkook smiles at the both of you and finally eases up. He spends the rest of the night getting to know Yoongi better. You’re pleased they both get along well. If anything, Jungkook even looks up at Yoongi. When you told him you were dating a hybrid, Jungkook was ecstatic. He never mentioned it, but whenever you brought home your human boyfriends, they were always uncomfortable around Jungkook, which hurt him.
They never understood his hybrid mannerisms. They’d begin thinking he was hitting on you after learning that he was adopted. Now with Yoongi, he won’t have that problem because he will understand.
At the end of the night, Yoongi stays. He’d offered to leave, but you didn’t see a point to it. Even if you do nothing tonight due to your guest’s heightened sense of hearing, you want him to stay to finish the celebration.
“So adopted?” Yoongi asks. He’s lying on your chest as your play with his hair. It calms him down.
“Mm, yes.”
As a teen, your mom had a friend, and she had a bunny girl hybrid as a servant. They didn’t treat her the best, but your mom was always kind to her, and they became somewhat friends. They kept in touch through the years. One day when you were 16 and Jungkook was 12, she died in a car accident. Some believe it was on purpose.
At the time, she was working for a sketchy man, and he did unspeakable things to her that she could not repeat. By now, the law for hybrids had passed, and she was going to report him. The man followed her and ran over her with his car. Before she died in the hospital, she asked your mom to take care of Jungkook. You and Jungkook became best friends, and your parents gained another child.
“That was nice of your family,” Yoongi hums, caressing your leg.
Jungkook is lucky he was born after the law for hybrids was passed; hence, he was not separated from his mother and got to meet and get to know her.
Yoongi never got to meet his mom, he doesn’t even have a name. If his memory is good, Jungkook still remembers her, or he has photographs. As soon as Yoongi was born, he was raised with other hybrid kids, and when Yoongi was old enough, he got sold to servitude.
“You should’ve seen him when he first moved in, shy and cute,” you gush over Jungkook. He had this wide-eyed innocent gaze. He always asked permission for everything and anything. It took your family a while to break that habit. It makes you laugh cause nowadays, he does as he wishes and has everyone wrapped around his little finger.
“Reminds me of someone,” Yoongi mentions, squeezing your thigh.
“That’s different. I was flustered by your dashing good looks!” you exclaim, lightly slapping his chest.
The following day you wake up bright and early to prepare breakfast. Jungkook walks in with his hair pointing in all directions. He kisses your cheek in greeting before sitting on the kitchen table. Like clockwork, you give him a glass of juice with a straw and a silicone tip.
Jungkook likes biting on straws (on everything he can get his teeth on). When you stopped buying the plastics ones for the more environmentally friendly metal ones, Jungkook didn’t like that and began complaining about how he couldn’t bite into them. Falling for his whines, you bought a pack of silicone tips and then another, and then another cause he destroyed them with his bunny teeth.
“Have plans today?” You ask him, ruffling his messy hair. Jungkook leans into his touch, feeling comforted by the simple action.
“I think I’m gonna lazy around and play online if that’s okay,” he asks sweetly, knowing that otherwise you would scold him and tell him to go out and enjoy the fresh air. He doesn’t know that since you’ve been with Yoongi, you’ve turned more into a homebody.
“Of course. Yoongi and I will be heading out to work soon, but you call me if you need anything.”
You had prepared a stack of blueberry pancakes for all of you. You served Jungkook a big plate, knowing he eats like there’s no tomorrow. His bunny metabolism helps him with that, and his unrelenting energy. As you place the plate in front of Jungkook, he gently bites into your arm.
You sigh in defeat, knowing there’s no way for him to stop his biting. For years you’ve told him not to do it, but it’s an instinct of his. He does it when he’s angry, when he’s sleepy, when he’s happy, when he’s annoyed. What varies is how hard he does it.
Jungkook smiles mischievously, waiting for your complaint, but all you do is brush through his long dark hair, undoing the knots that form by his bunny ears. Just like Yoongi purrs, Jungkook makes a weird sound in the back of his throat whenever you touch him around his ears.
Yoongi, having woken up later than you, walks into the kitchen. He’s dressed in clothes he’s left here in the past months. He beelines for you, pecking your lips sweetly as you hand him a plate of pancakes.
“Morning, Jungkook,” Yoongi greets the younger boy.
“Morning, Yoongi,” Jungkook says with his mouth full of pancakes.
You sit between them, striking conversation between the three of you. It’s much easier than you thought, as Jungkook just asks question after question at Yoongi. He’s never felt more at ease with one of your boyfriends.
“Can I stop by the store later?” He asks Yoongi with puppy dog eyes.
“Sure, I’ll be there till 6,” Yoongi agrees with a soft smile. There is a lot of Jungkook that reminds him of you. While you are not biologically related, you’ve adapted to each other’s mannerisms.
In the afternoon, Jungkook stops by your office to have lunch. He always has a great time at your building since most people know him there. He hopes to work there after he graduates from university.
As promised, Jungkook then stops by Yoongi’s store. He has walked by the small shop many times but never stopped to go inside. The bell at the door jingles when Jungkook walks in. Yoongi has just finished checking out a customer.
“Hey, Kook.” Yoongi greets him, his black tail swishing behind him. He’s heard you call him Kook so many times it stuck.
“Hi, Yoongi,” Jungkook absentmindedly responds, staring around the store and its variety, from musical instruments to producing equipment to music albums of all kinds and formats.
“Your sister mentioned you were collecting vinyl?” Yoongi asks him, leaning against the counter.
“Yeah, I have a few,” Jungkook nods, looking at the cat hybrid, who offers him a sneaky smile.
“I pulled these out for you. I think you might like them.” Yoongi pulls out two pieces of vinyl still wrapped in plastic from the shelf behind him. Yoongi likes the bunny hybrid and sees how happy he makes you, so he doesn’t mind giving Jungkook a small gift.
“How do you have these?” Jungkook exclaims in awe. In his hands are two limited edition vinyls of his favorite artists. These have been sold out everywhere for a long time, and very few people sold them. Whenever they did the waitlist, the bids were ridiculous.
“I’ve got contacts,” Yoongi shrugs cockily.
“I have a feeling we’re gonna get along just fine,” Jungkook beams at him, gushing over the vinyl.
They spend quite a lot of time talking about music, and Yoongi is surprised at all the knowledge the bunny holds. There are things Yoongi thought only a few people knew, but Jungkook is proving him wrong here.
“Is there a reason you visited this weekend?” Yoongi smoothly asks Jungkook. He’s noticed some things about the bunny that lead him to think it’s not just to have a friendly visit.
“Nope, was tired of school,” Jungkook says, lying.
“Your sister has mentioned you like to skip a lot,” Yoongi adds. He’s staring out the window wanting to keep the bunny calm.
“I don’t skip that much,” Jungkook complains with a groan. His sister always exaggerates things, he barely misses school.
“Everything okay?” Yoongi inquires again.
“I know my sister worries, but I’m fine. You don’t have to do this.”
Since he came into your life, you’ve worried about Jungkook-or not so much about him but the people around him. Not everyone is tolerant of hybrids, and you know this. When he came into your life, you were already in high school, so you weren’t there to defend him when bullies bothered him. When he was 12, he wasn’t big and buff to scare people away as he is now. He was small and scrawny, your parents talked to the principal and the other parents, but there’s only so much they could do.
“She didn’t send me to do anything. I just noticed the bruise on your arm,” Yoongi points to Jungkook’s left arm.
“Don’t tell her,” Jungkook sighs, defeated. He’d tried to hide the bruise as best he could. “My roommate is an ass, and he’s always taunting me, calling me a helpless bunny. He’s provoking me. I usually leave because if I throw the first punch, I get expelled. My parents did a lot to get me into the school I wanted. I don’t want to let them down.”
“You’re doing good, Jungkook,” Yoongi says thoughtfully. He understands Jungkook’s predicament. No matter how well a hybrid does, one misstep can end it all.
“But?” Jungkook prompts, there’s always a but.
“You should tell someone, get you out of that dorm. Staying quiet will only get you so far,” Yoongi advices. From his perspective, Jungkook has a great support system and should take advantage of that.
“Maybe, I don’t want the attention, though, or for my family to worry,” Jungkook explains. They’ve done so much for him already. He doesn’t want to be a burden.
“Just think about it. Your sister is worrying and doesn’t know what’s happening.”
“You won’t tell her?” Jungkook pleads, finding Yoongi’s gaze. All he wants is to do this by himself.
“It’s not my place,” he reassures Jungkook with a nod.
Thinking of Yoongi’s words, Jungkook agrees. He’ll take care of this situation. He’ll apply for a new roommate or move in by himself. Next time something happens, he’ll speak up.
○●○●○●○●○●
One lazy morning, Yoongi stares at the ceiling. It’s too early to be up. His arm is around you as your head lies on his chest. He had woken up from a nightmare. It had been a while since he had one of those. Why is it that when things are going great, the universe reminds him of the horrible things he’s been through?
Yoongi feels you stir as you wake up. You stretch out your limbs before settling back in Yoongi’s chest.
“Why are you awake so early?” You yawn, kissing his exposed chest. Yoongi can’t sleep with many clothes on, or he’ll get too hot at night.
Yoongi hugs you close, kissing your head, “I had a nightmare.”
“Do you want to talk about it?”
Yoongi hasn’t told you much about his past life. When he talks about his past, it’s mainly the part of his life after Lee adopted him. You understand it’s something he wants to leave behind and respect it. It’s time, though, Yoongi thinks.
“When I was a kid before the law passed, I was owned by this family,” Yoongi begins, “Even though I was barely a child, they would have me do chores around the house, clean up their kids’ messes, and obey every little word they said. I remember their kids bullying me into acting ‘like the animal I was.’ They would make me eat off the floor and crawl around the house till my knees were bruised. They’d get physical too, pulling on my tail and ears till I cried.”
“I’m so sorry, Yoongi,” you say sadly. You can’t imagine a child going through that, yet it’s the reality many hybrids face.
“When the law passed, I was thrown into the streets. I was alone, cold, and hungry, eating off the trash like a stray. An old woman took me in. She was nice enough. She needed company, but more than that, she needed help around the house. Mostly, I went unscathed unless I did something she thought was out of line. That’s when she’d search for her dead husband’s belt and beat me with it. I never left, though. Where would I go? When she died, I was 14, and back to the streets, I went. I went to different hybrid and homeless shelters, but there was always some sort of problem with them, and they never offered a way to get out of the streets.”
“What did you do then?” Your hands are trailing up and down his stomach, offering some comfort.
“I came to this city, hoping there would be more resources. It was the same. That’s when things truly got worse….” Yoongi trails off, thinking of his past.
“Yoongs, you don’t have to,” You reassure him, getting in a position where you can see his face. His eyes are distant, so you touch his cheek and peck his lips.
“I want you to know,” he slowly responds.
“Okay,” you nod, offering him a small smile that you hoped comforted him.
“There was this sketchy guy I always saw around, and one day he asked me if I wanted to make some money. He knew I did, and he used that to his advantage. He had customers all around the city with different tasks. All I had to do was go to the addresses he gave me, do whatever they wanted me to do, and leave. And I did, at first, it was stupid stuff to help an older man with a yard, clean a house, or do a delivery. When he had my trust, things got sketchier delivering mystery packages to rundown houses, watching some people and reporting back to him, and transporting vehicles from one side of town to another.
Until one day, he said he had an extra special job for me. All I had to do was go to an apartment in the middle of the city. I went, and there, a lady greeted me. It was unlike anything I had ever done before; she complimented me. She led me to this false sense of security and then took what she wanted.” Yoongi pauses, remembering that horrible day, “Turns out they pay a lot for hybrids in heat.”
You think of Jungkook and what would’ve been of him if your family hadn’t taken him in. Your poor Jungkook wouldn’t have survived what Yoongi went through. His heart has always been too pure, too gentle. More so, you feel pain for Yoongi for having to go through it. What he’s been through is some people’s worst nightmare, and he had to go through it all alone.
“I left after that day, didn’t accept the money that came with it or any other tasks offered to me. I spent a year in the streets, barely scraping by and hiding in alleys. There was the music store I always walked by, and one day I gathered the courage to walk in. Lee instantly spotted me and watched me as I played a few keys on the piano. An instrument that has been there for most of my life. The first family I had owned one, and I got to learn the basics by watching their kid’s lessons. The old lady had one, too, that she let me use. She actually liked when I played.
I played a song lightly on Lee’s display piano, and when I finished, Lee was there watching me. He asked me if I needed a job, and despite me showing him I was a homeless hybrid, he didn’t care. Turns out Lee had lost a son due to an illness, and he saw something of his son in me. I was hesitant initially, but Lee always proved to be an honorable man. That’s where I’ve stayed until now, repaying him for everything he did for me.”
When he finishes the story, you have tear tracks down your face. You didn’t want to cry. You didn’t deserve to. After all, you were not the one to go through that stuff, yet you felt for Yoongi. You felt the pain in his voice and the injustices he had to go through. His memories still haunt him through his dreams when he should be resting peacefully in the safety of his home.
“I’m so sorry for what you’ve been through.” Your voice is watery as you try to voice your thoughts, “I’m so happy that you found Lee and that you’ve found happiness because it’s all you deserve and more.”
“I love you, Blue,” Yoongi confesses for the first time, sitting on the bed. “It’s why I’m telling you, I love you, and you need to know my past before it’s too late.” He needed you to know in case you decided to leave.
“I love you too, Yoongi,” you cry out happily, holding his cheeks in your hands. “It pains me that you have such a tragic past, but it led you to me, and it’s not going to change how I think of you.”
With tears of relief in his eyes, Yoongi kisses you nice and softly. He loves you, and you love him. You know everything you need to know about him, and it didn’t scare you away. He couldn’t ask for anything better.
○●○●○●○●○●
By the time his next heat rolls around, Yoongi has talked to you about it. You had randomly brought up the subject one night, asking him about what he did in those instances. He had been honest about how he usually had someone helping him and reciprocated that help when the time came. He quickly added how he was all alone last time, afraid you’d think he had cheated.
It all made you feel guilty; you didn’t want Yoongi to be in pain and discomfort because of you. At the same time, you did not like the idea of someone else getting to help him and touch him when he was in such a vulnerable state. The only solution was to offer him your help to which he reluctantly agreed.
It led to a long night of Yoongi giving you a rundown of what usually happens when he’s in heat and what to expect. He pretty straightforwardly told you not to take to heart all the breeding references about giving you his babies. You’d giggled at that and told him not to worry. You might actually be into that.
The fated day finally arrives without warning. His constant fucking around with you completely masked the incessant horny feeling he gets.
Your voice wakes him up, ripping him away from the dreamy haze he had been in. Unconsciously he had been rutting against her side, his cock rock hard and larger than normal.
“Yoong’s, you’re burning up,” you say, touching his forehead, which is beginning to be coated by sweat.
“I have to go,” Yoongi groans, sitting up. Despite having thrashed all the sheets, he’s sweaty and sticky, “I’m in heat.”
“Yoongi, we talked about this. You have me now. You don’t have to go through this alone,” you tell him, holding onto his arm, preventing him from getting up.
“It can be too much, Blue, and I won’t be thinking straight,” he insists half-heartedly. All he wants is your help, but he’s scared you’ll be disgusted by this side of him.
“Lie back down. I’ve got you,” you say, pushing Yoongi lightly back onto the pillows.
Taking off your underwear, you lift the oversized t-shirt you wore to bed and straddle him. Since this isn’t a time to have tons of foreplay, you grab his hard cock, pumping it while you rub your clit to get yourself wet. Yoongi complains, wanting to feel the warmth of your pussy, swearing it’s the only thing that will relieve him.
Finally, you take all his cock, a sting following as you get used to his size. He’s so much bigger when he’s in heat you have never felt as full. Yoongi sighs in relief under you, grabbing your hips to set a pace that will please him best. His hands gripping you so tightly he thrusts into you desperately. His eyes are closed, concentrating on how you clench around him, but he needs more.
He pulls out of you and swiftly brings you to your knees, your front pressed onto the mattress. He slams back into you without hesitation, making you moan loudly onto the pillows. The room is all but quiet. You’re whining from Yoongi, pushing deep into you. Yoongi is groaning filthy words about how well your pussy is taking him, and the sound of your skin slapping reverberates.
For Yoongi, the first wave is the hardest to overcome. It takes a lot out of him to cum. He wants to so badly, but the pain edges him on. Luckily, you’re great to help with what you do next.
“Fuck me, Yoongi. I wanna have your babies!” You yell under him.
You swear your words make Yoongi’s cock swell even more, the stretch unreal. He thrusts hard, pulling away entirely and slamming back in. Tears well in your eyes. It feels too good. You’ve already cum around him once, and he barely noticed. You’re overstimulated by this new experience.
“We’re gonna keep going until you’re full of my cum,” he groans. Yoongi is drenched in sweat his hair sticking onto his forehead. His chest glistens with the dimmed lights of the bedroom.
Yoongi is entranced by how his cockhead pops in and out of your wet pussy. His length is entirely covered in your slick, making it much easier to thrust into you. You were made just for him. There’s no other explanation for why you feel so good hugging his cock.
Finally, feeling like he’s near his release, he lifts you up your back is against his front. He digs his head into your neck, breathing your delightful smell in. His scent entangled in yours prompts him to harshly bite you, leaving a mark on your neck as if he has claimed you as his. Yoongi is right, you are a pain slut, which brings you over the edge.
“That’s it, Blue, milk my cock, take all of it,” Yoongi stills as you clench around him, his nails digging into your hips, leaving half-moon marks on your skin as he empties inside of you.
“Everything you’ll give me,” You pant, your legs feeling like jelly as you slump against Yoongi.
Pulling your head to the side, he places short messy kisses all over your face. The heat waves he felt coursing through his body ceased momentarily. He pulls out of you, his cock not quite soft yet. You whine at the emptiness and how sensitive you feel down there.
Cum trickles out of you as you lay back on the bed, yet Yoongi pushes it back with his fingers. He hushes you when you shudder, kissing your thigh, “Can’t waste it.”
As you predicted, some minutes after his first release Yoongi is back on you. He kneels between your legs, grabbing your hips to fuck you like that. Yoongi is a visual person, so he takes much pleasure watching you take his cock, your cunt pink and puffy from his previous abuse. Part of his cum leaks out of you, although this time around, he doesn’t worry as he promises to give you more.
His mind flashes with the thought of you pregnant, carrying his kittens. Pretty girl. He splays his hand over your lower abdomen and presses down, he feels himself inside of you, and you see stars as he stimulates your spot. You cum again, legs shaking. Yoongi drips in sweat and, with a painful groan, releases inside of you again. Still inside you, plugging you up, he breathes heavily and lays on your chest. You brush through his wet hair, whispering sweet nothings.
“You did so well, Yoongi,” you rasp out, “Fucked me so good.”
Your throat is dry and raspy. You need water, yet you don’t dare to get up. Yoongi needs you.
“You don’t have to stay,” he whispers, “I can finish this myself. You’ve done more than enough.”
Through his haze, he offers you another exit. Heats are too much for the hybrid. He can’t imagine how much it’ll be for you. He appreciates your help but understands if you want to leave now that you’ve tasted how it is.
“Just because you can doesn’t mean you should,” you reassure him gently, “I want to help you.”
“I don’t want to hurt you,” Yoongi insists, kissing the swell of your breast.
“You won’t,” you laugh, “I’m sturdier than I seem.”
Yoongi props up on his elbows and thrust slowly, feeling more in control. “I love you, Blue.”
“I love you, Yoongi,” you gasp. Yoongi pins your hands at your sides, lacing your fingers with his.
He’s so pretty with his face flushed. He looks softer with the needy expressions he’s making. Your legs wrap around his waist, trapping him close to you. Yoongi likes it when you get clingy and territorial. It makes him feel wanted.
You sleep hours later with your leg over his hip and his cock nestled inside you. He had managed to snooze off too. Granted, right before your alarm rings, he’s already thrusting into you. You hold onto his back, moaning into his ear and leaving scratch marks behind.
The next day you leave for work, not before Yoongi scents you and fucks you in the shower. The water washing away the remains of him. When you return in the afternoon, he waits for you, shirtless and in sweatpants laying low. He takes you against the door, jeans down to your knees.
By the third day, Yoongi is high and lazy from fucking you so much. He lets you take control, and you ride him lazily, his hands tracing the bruises on your body, some accidental, some on purpose. In his moments of lucidity, he apologizes for the roughness. It’s never his intention to hurt you. You always so kindly wave him off. You don’t care about them, just that your kitty is getting the relief he needs.
You’ve received strange looks at work, and you later learn by visiting Tae it’s because you smell like Yoongi, your usual florals and chocolate scent are almost gone. Only hybrids notice that, so Yoongi also leaves hickeys on your neck (which you hide) for the humans that might want to try something.
By the fourth day, his heat is over. You sneak out of bed to go to work and let Yoongi rest. He’s as still as the dead, exhausted and spent. When you return from work, you smell home-cooked food, and the table is set romantically with flowers in the center and candles.
“You’re home,” Yoongi says, kissing you gently, “Come, I’ve prepared you a bath.”
He leads you to the bathroom, where the tub is steaming with bath salts and bath bombs, more candles are alight, and a glass of wine rests by the tub. Yoongi helps you undress, kissing each and every bruise on your body. You giggle at certain parts as you’re ticklish. Then he offers his hand to help you into the tub.
“Take all the time you need. I’ll be finishing up dinner,” he softly smiles at you.
You relax into the water and nod. Yoongi didn’t have to do any of this; it’s not like he can control his heat. It has you feeling cared for, though, and that’s something you can’t take for granted. When you get dressed, you both have dinner. He apologizes again and hopes he didn’t scare you away. You reassure him he didn’t. You even tell him you found most of it hot, including the breeding kink that came naturally with him.
Yoongi blushes and says ‘noted’ under his breath. The rest of the night, you and Yoongi cuddle, and before bed, he gives you a massage. You tell him he’s going overboard, but he insists, and who are you to refuse?
Days later, you take a pregnancy test, scared of the result. You have no symptoms, but the amount of times you and Yoongi had sex is unholy, and you’re afraid your birth control pills might’ve failed you. His heat clouds his mind, it’s designed to breed and reproduce. Each time he came, he did it inside of you. You know your birth control is 95% effective, yet what’s to stop you from being that 5%. You’re not ready for children. It’s not something you’ve spoken about, either. You pick up the test with shaking hands once the alarm goes off. It’s negative.
○●○●○●○●○●
There are days when you are too busy to go out for lunch. Today is one of those days. Luckily, Yoongi offers to bring you food for when you have time to eat something. It’s his first time visiting you at work, and he realizes he doesn’t know exactly where you work. He always thought you worked at the multi-office building near the corner.
When he follows the direction, it leads him to the building he despises. You never told Yoongi you work there. Feeling uncomfortable, he walks in, where a receptionist greets him, “Hello, how can I help you today?”
Yoongi tells her your name. It feels foreign on his tongue. He’s always called you Blue, and very few people call you by your government name as it is.
“Oh, you must be Yoongi! She told me you’d be coming. Take this pass. Her office is to the left on the 30th floor. You’ll see her name on the door.”
That’s a high number. In fact, it’s one of the few at the top. Usually, that means a high position, but you’ve never really talked about your job. Yoongi knocks on the frosted glass door with your name on it, preceded by Prod.
He wants to leave. How come you never told him you were a producer? That seems like the thing to say when your boyfriend owns a Music Store. You had told him you loved music, and that was it. Anyone can love music and not be involved at all. Not even that whenever he asked about work, you’d say you didn’t like talking about it to keep things separate. How many songs has he heard on the radio that you worked on?
He gets no response, so he opens the frosted glass door he sees a studio with state-of-the-art equipment. You were at the desk with big headphones covering your ears. He could hear a beat coming from them. He taps you on your shoulder, and you jump in surprise.
“Yoongi!” You say loudly, forgetting the headphones on your ears. “Oops, sorry.”
“Hey, I got your food,” he says, raising the plastic bag, but his eyes can’t stop taking in the studio and all the tools you had.
“You are a lifesaver,” you gush, grabbing the bag from him to open it.
“You never mentioned you were a producer,” he clicks his tongue in mild annoyance.
“I didn’t?” you ask, distracted by the food, “Huh, well, this where I work, always at your service.”
“Your boyfriend works at a Music Store, and you forget to mention your work in music,” Yoongi says sarcastically.
“I did say I worked at this building,” you roll your eyes with a smile thinking his joking.
“I always thought it was the other one with the medical offices,” he coughs, scratching the back of his neck in awkwardness.
“This is a huge miscommunication, my bad,” you say sheepishly, taking a bite of the sushi he bought for you.
Yoongi doesn’t know how to feel. He hates the building company for denying him the opportunity of becoming an artist. They were clearly against him being a hybrid despite having the talent. And here you are, working happily in what he wanted. You’re living his dream. It should make you perfect for him, yet all he feels is resentment.
You don’t sense his internal ‘debate’ as you eat. You’re too much in your head over the deadlines you have to meet. It doesn’t work in your favor as Yoongi leaves with a kiss on your cheeks with the excuse of a delivery to the shop. He had to get out of there and think clearly before he blew up on you.
He spends the whole day thinking about how you can work in a company that is against hybrids. He lets his losses get to him and project to you. So when you arrive at his apartment that night to spend time with him, he doesn’t greet you and just spits out, “How can you work in that company?”
“Excuse me?” You ask him, confused you haven’t even taken off your coat.
“That’s such a horrible company, Blue! They discriminate against hybrids. I can’t believe you’d work in such a place,” he argues, standing before you. His posture is tense and his ears and tail lay flat against his body.
“Yoongi, what the fuck? What are you going on about? The company is not against hybrids,” You exclaim, taking a step back.
“Of course they are. I lived through it,” Yoongi reveals.
You pause with wide eyes, “When? You’ve never mentioned it before.”
“Five years ago, I went to audition as a producer. They said that despite my talent, they wouldn’t hire me,” he says, fingers raking through his dark hair.
“That’s unbelievable,” you huff, crossing your arms defensively. Many hybrids work at the company, and she’s never heard complaints of the boss treating them poorly.
“How can you not believe me, your boyfriend, and believe the awful people,” Yoongi scolds her angrily. You can’t be so blind.
“Because that’s my family!” You yell, shutting him up.
“What?” Yoongi goes slack at your words.
“My dad is the company’s CEO, and I can assure you we are not discriminatory against hybrids. For fucks sake, Yoongi, you’ve met Jungkook. Would people who hate hybrids adopt one?”
You don’t like to pull out often that your dad is the CEO of the family company, but this is Yoongi you’re talking to. He cares about you, and you’ve been together long enough that it feels okay for him to know. Besides, maybe this way, he’ll understand that what he says is a lie.
His following words slip with little thought. “Who knows, maybe you just want to look good to the public?”
“If that’s what you think, fine. I’m leaving,” you respond firmly. You will not take anyone speaking shit about your family. It hurts you to hear him say those things. By insulting your family, he insults you too.
You hope Yoongi stops you, but he doesn’t. He knows what he was told. He stays silent, waiting for you to go. He’s set on his way.
It’s one long week where you barely talk to Yoongi. You give him time to apologize or reach out, but he doesn’t. When he realizes his mistake of comparing you to the ones that hurt him, you don’t answer.
○●○●○●○●○●
It has to be a mistake. There is no way your father, who runs the company, turned someone down for being a hybrid. Hell, half of the staff are hybrids. Producers, artists, HR, everything. There are hybrids in all departments. How come Yoongi didn’t see that when he visited.
You’ve spent enough time stewing on this. Time to go to the source, your father. You knock on his office door and hear faintly, “Come in.”
“Darling, how nice of you to visit your old man,” your dad jokes, standing from his desk to hug you.
“Sorry, dad, I’ve been swamped,” you apologize, plopping down on one of the plush chairs in front of his desk.
“I know, I’ve seen your reports, and you’re doing well. I’m proud of you,” he smiles at his daughter, expecting one in return. Instead, she plays with a loose thread on her sweater, not paying attention to him. “What troubles you?”
“You know the guy I’m dating,” you sigh, looking up at your dad.
“Yoongi, yes,” he nods, remembering everything you’ve told him about Yoongi.
“Apparently, he auditioned here like 7-ish years ago, and he says that you or whoever was in his audition didn’t accept him because he was a hybrid,” you say. It’s best not to beat around the bush.
“Really?” He asks, concerned, “Let me look it up.”
In times like these, he’s glad the company keeps a database of all the auditions and interview processes. One of his goals as CEO is to eliminate barriers between all kinds of people, giving them all a fair chance of working here.
“I have his file up. I remember him. He was very talented. He never came back. What a shame,” he hums, rewatching the audition.
“What do you mean?” You ask.
“I couldn’t accept him at the time, but I told him to come in a year or two for another audition,” your father explains, passing you a flash drive with the audition.
“Why didn’t you accept him at the time?”
“It wouldn’t be beneficial for him at the time the regulations for hybrids in big companies were not good. They basically required full background screenings and medical exams. And the health benefits were basically nonexistent. Most hybrids don’t have past experiences, and if they do, they’re bad not because they are, but because of the situation they are put through. It wasn’t until a year later they eliminated that law, and their rights were looking better.”
“That makes sense,” you sigh in relief. You shouldn’t have doubted your family.
“If he wants, he can have another audition. You know we’re always looking for new producers.”
“Thanks, dad, I’ll mention it to him,” you smile, leaving.
This is great! Yoongi can audition, and he’ll be able to work alongside you. You just know he’ll do so well. He already has an excellent ear for music. He may be a bit rusty, but nothing a little practice can’t help. She can lend him a hand too!
“Send him my apologies. I never wanted it to seem the wrong way.”
“I will,” you say, rushing out the door.
A knock on the door interrupts Yoongi’s evening nap. He opens the door expecting Jimin or Jin, but you’re at the door with your arms crossed.
“You’re an idiot,” you shoulder him to walk into the apartment.
“I know. I’m sorry, Blue, I shouldn’t have overreacted and assumed things about you,” Yoongi sincerely apologizes.
“You think?” You cock an eyebrow at him.
“I’m apologizing, don’t be a bitch,” Yoongi pouts, not liking your attitude.
“It’s just you infuriate me. I’ve been good to you. I don’t think I’ve ever done something to hurt you, and if I have, I’m sorry. But what you did was so unfair. Even if my family were as horrible as you made them seem, I’m not them. And I haven’t given you a reason to believe that,” you lightly argue. You’re not looking to pick a fight. You just want him to understand.
Yoongi hugs you from behind. His words don’t mean anything right now. He lets you vent. You relax against him eventually, grabbing the arms that were around you.
“I talked to my dad,” you whisper, “you misunderstood the situation, Yoongs.”
“Blue, I’m sure of what I heard,” he whispers back.
“My dad records his auditions for moments like this,” you say, handing him the flash drive. “You were great Yoong’s, and they would’ve hired you. They didn’t because it wouldn’t have been helpful for you.”
You explain the situation and your father’s words. If he had gone through the audition, the government tracking hybrids wouldn’t process his applications. That’s why your father told him to return.
“I-how could I have misunderstood this so badly,” Yoongi sighs defeated. He could’ve been so much happier sooner if he had only listened. He could’ve been a producer already. He would’ve met you a long time ago as well.
“It was seven years ago. You were hurt and wanted a reason to be mad,” you comfort him.
“I’ve spent seven years glaring at the building for nothing,” Yoongi humorously laughs.
“My dad says if you want an audition, you have it,” you tell him.
“Really?” Yoongi looks at you, “I don’t know if that’s what I want anymore. I gave up on that dream long ago.”
Being a producer was his biggest dream, yet after the disappointment, he instilled in himself, he came to the conclusion that giving up on his dream was for the best. Now he’s not sure he can visualize himself as a producer.
“If you change your mind, the opportunity is there.”
○●○●○●○●○●
Your relationship has kept you so busy you can’t remember the last time you went out with Hoseok and Tae to karaoke. You send them a quick text, and they both agree to meet. As per their request, you bring Yoongi and Jungkook along. The more, the merrier.
Hoseok and Tae are waiting when you get there. They’ve already picked a room. The group orders drinks, which quickly creates a buzz in the room. It takes them no less than 20 minutes to get the party going.
While you and Taehyung duet an old 80s song, Hoseok approaches Yoongi. He’d heard about Yoongis’s job offer and wondered if he would take it.
“You said no?” Hoseok repeats, his facial expression clearly surprised.
“Yeah,” Yoongi nods, taking a sip from his drink. He lightly laughs at you and Tae’s terrible rendition.
“Why? I thought it was your dream,” Hoseok asks. He knows what the job entitles. He’s worked at the company for some years now. It’s challenging and frustrating. It’ll drain you of all inspiration faster than you’d think, yet he wouldn’t do anything else in the world. His stunt at the cafe months ago confirmed that.
“It is or was. I don’t know; I feel out of touch. When I went to Blue’s office, there was so much equipment I hadn’t even seen. It’s been a while since I’ve produced too. I write less and less as the years go on,” Yoongi sighs, being honest with Hoseok.
“How about you come to my studio this week? Check it out. I can show you around. It’s not as intimidating as it seems, and I know you’ve got the talent,” Hoseok offers kindly, no strings attached.
In his mind giving Yoongi space from you is good. That way, Yoongi is not pressured to agree with whatever you say or do.
“You’ve never heard anything of mine,” Yoongi rebukes.
“Haven’t I, Gloss?” Hoseok laughs.
Yoongi’s expression is priceless. He left the underground business when he got rejected by your company. He hasn’t been called that in years.
“That’s right, I know my people,” Hoseok laughs. He didn’t recognize him at the cafe, but after you told him about the audition, he did some digging.
“Alright, I’ll go check it out,” Yoongi nods.
Maybe Hoseok was right. Perhaps an hour or two in a neutral studio can inspire or convince him. He doesn’t want to seem ungrateful, but he never envisioned himself working his whole life at the music store.
“Yoongi, come on, it’s our turn,” Jungkook calls over, holding a microphone.
○●○●○●○●○●
Yoongi returns to your apartment the morning after. The smell hits him as he exits the elevator- someone is in heat. He ignores it, but the closer he gets to your door, the harder it is to ignore. Realizing it’s coming from your apartment, he rushes in to find you pacing in the living room in distress.
“What are you doing here while Jungkook is in heat?” Yoongi hisses, staying by the door.
“Thank god you’re here, Yoongi! I don’t know what to do. This hasn’t happened before,” you cry, hugging your boyfriend.
With his arms around you, Yoongi drags you outside, closing the door behind you guys. The more distance between you and Jungkook, the better. If the smell is strong in the hallway, he can’t imagine being inside it. He fears the effect it can have on him if he breathes the scent for too long. It’s not uncommon for a hybrid’s heat to trigger another’s.
“What do you mean this is the first time it happens?” Yoongi asks. Jungkook is a 21-year-old hybrid. He must’ve gotten his heat around 7 or 8 years ago.
“Jungkook usually takes these pills to ease off his heat. He’s been taking them ever since he got his first one. I think he hasn’t been taking them ’cause he’s been spending more time in my apartment.” You try to explain, although you know very little about the subject, despite living with a hybrid for most of your childhood.
Jungkook’s bunny habits are well known in your family, and you’ve learned about hybrids, too, because of him. Heats, though, was always a subject Jungkook kept to himself because he didn’t feel comfortable sharing that part of his life with his sister. When the first one rolled around, it wasn’t so bad, and after your parents offered him the pills, he accepted. Since then, he hasn’t paid much attention to it.
It all makes sense to Yoongi now. The pills you talk about are expensive but highly effective. They basically stop a hybrid from having heat or make them asymptomatic. He’s never had the luxury of taking them, but he’s heard much about them. Enough to know that Jungkook’s heat will be more intense after not having it for so many years.
“This is bad, Blue!” Yoongi tells you, hands on your shoulders.
“What am I going to do? He’s in so much pain and won’t stop sweating and groaning!” You exclaim on the verge of tears.
“There is nothing to do,” Yoongi carefully says, “Pack a bag. We can go to my apartment while he rides this through.”
“There has to be something, Yoongi. I can’t just leave him like that!” You’re upset he would suggest leaving your brother behind in such conditions.
Your worry about Jungkook is blinding you. The gravity of the situation not making sense to you. So Yoongi takes it upon himself to explain, “He’ll be uncomfortable and in pain, but it’s nothing he can’t handle. He’ll survive, and in a few days, he’ll be good as new. Your presence here can make things much worse, Blue.”
“How can you say that? I saw you when you were in heat, and I was with you. I hated seeing you like that. How do you expect me to ignore Jungkook’s pain and pretend it’s not there.” You interrupt him in distress.
“Because the only way he’ll feel relieved is for him to fuck someone. He needs to get off to relieve his temperature and relieve the pain. That’s a heat. And unless someone magically appears and volunteers, there’s nothing you can do,” Yoongi grits out, frustrated at the situation. Jungkook’s strong scent started to fuzz his brain.
“Yoongi! There has to be something….” You say, not believing Yoongi’s words.
He’s getting mad that you’re not listening, and his following words come out rough, “I already told you, have sex with Jungkook or get out.”
“I’m not doing that. He’s my brother!” You and Jungkook might not be related by blood, but you can’t find it in yourself to have sex with him. If you could, you would, but you don’t believe either can get through the mental block. Ruining your relationship with your brother is not in your plans any time soon.
“Adopted brother,” Yoongi points out. You hit him in the arm, angry at his unhelpful responses, which only gets him angrier.
“Fine, get him a hooker. That will get him feeling good in no time. Still, we have to leave.” Yoongi insists, desperate to get out of the building before he gets horny.
“He is not having sex with a stranger. I refuse!”
“Well, that only leaves me, and that’s not happening,” Yoongi replies, crossing his arms.
You pause your argument, thinking it wouldn’t be the most outrageous idea. If someone were to help him, Yoongi would be perfect for it. He’s a hybrid, too, who has had to go through his ruts mostly alone.
“Are you set on that?” You ask with a grimace. You feel bad asking this of Yoongi, but you’re desperate to help Jungkook.
He looks at you in disbelief, “You are not suggesting I have sex with your brother?”
“Yoongi, just help him for now. I know the first day is the worst. Just for today, help him, please.”
“Blue, do you understand what you’re saying?” He understands what you’re saying but is unsure you do. This is a lot, and the worst part is that he’s actually considering it. It must be Jungkook’s pheromones all in the air affecting his.
“Yes, I do. I know this isn’t romantic or anything. You’re only helping him.” you nod, decided.
“Once,” Yoongi grits out, a dead serious look on his face. “I’ll be helping him this once but never again.”
“Okay,” you nod, at a loss for words.
Yoongi shoves his keys in your hands, “Go to my apartment. I’ll get there later with your bag.”
“Thank you, Yoongi.” You speak before walking down the hallway. Before entering the elevator, you look back at Yoongi, who nods at the elevator, urging you to go. He doesn’t want you in the vicinity if he’s doing this.
He takes a minute to himself, gathering the courage to do this. All doubt disappears when he opens the door and breathes in Jungkook’s pheromones. He finds Jungkook’s room and opens the door. The bunny is lying face down in bed naked. His hips rutting into the bed to feel any type of relief. His back glistens with sweat, and his dark hair sticks to his neck.
“Hey, Kook,” Yoongi says, walking to the bed.
“Yoongi?” Jungkook says in a haze, propping himself up on his elbows, but his thrusting doesn’t cease. If he were in his right mind, he’d instantly stop and cover up. He didn’t want to, though. He had to make the pain disappear.
“I’m here to help. Is that okay?” Yoongi asks, sitting on the edge of the bed.
“Please,” Jungkook chokes, “It hurts so much.”
“I’ll take care of you,” Yoongi soothes him, a long finger trailing down his back. Reaching the base of his spine Yoongi tugs on the black cottontail. Jungkook whines thrusting harder against the mattress.
“Turn around,” Yoongi softly tells him.
Jungkook shakes his head, “I can’t-“
“If you don’t, then I can’t touch you, and you want me to touch you, right?” Yoongi asks him. Being in heat messes with every thought in your head. It makes hybrids think that even the smallest actions are impossible, and Jungkook suppressing his heat brings him back to step one.
With a groan Jungkook turns his body around, his cock bobs up and down as he settles on his back. Yoongi licks his lips, the bunny is so hard and ready to burst there’s a steady stream of precum coating his head.
Yoongi’s hand slides down Jungkook’s chest, admiring the hard muscle. It continues to trail down his abdomen until it reaches his pelvis. The younger boy’s hips rut, feeling Yoongi’s hands close to his cock.
Jungkook has not stopped moaning once, every little touch sending him waves of painful pleasure. He begs Yoongi to do anything, touch him, fuck him, suck him. Getting more comfortable between Jungkook’s legs, Yoongi starts stroking him. The bunny is hot and heavy in his palm. He spits in his hand for good measure, but it’s barely necessary. His thumb brushes over the dark pink tip, spreading the milky liquid down his shaft.
“Fuck,” Jungkook curses, hand tugging at his hair and hips thrusting into Yoongi’s palm. His abs tense, showcasing the hard muscle underneath. It’s a sight for sore eyes that makes Yoongi’s pants tighten. Yoongi might’ve done this as a favor to you both, but he will enjoy this as much as he can.
“Look at me, Kook,” Yoongi calls the youngest’s attention, “Focus on me.”
The bunny’s hazy stare lands on the cat hybrid on top of him. He is also sweating, feeling the heat of the moment. His feline eyes are calculating, afraid of missing any of Jungkook’s response to his touch. The wet noise Yoongi’s hand makes as he flicks his wrist fills the room along with the bunny’s pleas.
Jungkook tries hard to keep his eyes on Yoongi, but when he feels his peak near, his eyes roll back, and his mouth opens. “That’s it, bunny, cum,” the cat hybrid encourages him, “You’ll feel so much better.”
Jungkook groans, feeling his peak, and it’s like some of the heat has dissipated. Ropes of white paint Yoongi’s hand and Jungkook’s stomach. Raising his hand to his lips, Yoongi licks the bunny’s cum, tasting him. Fuck, did he taste good. It would be a shame for Jungkook to miss it.
Leaning over, Jungkook Yoongi says, “Open your mouth, bunny.”
Jungkook doesn’t understand why but tentatively opens his mouth. Yoongi grabs his cheeks between his thumb and pointer finger and lets his saliva mixed with Jungkook’s cum, drip into the bunny’s mouth.
“Now swallow,” Yoongi orders him.
Jungkook obeys the cat hybrid, swallowing his spit. He never thought his own taste would arouse him and make him hard again in seconds. He blames it on the heat. With his temperature rising, Jungkook grabs Yoongi’s sides and flips them over. He kisses his sister’s boyfriend hard, leaving open-mouthed kisses down his pale neck, leaving a hard bite behind.
“Fuck,” Yoongi moans. He had forgotten that bunnies like to bite.
Jungkook needs to feel him close, touch him, taste him too. He takes off Yoongi’s hoodie and his t-shirt touching the older guy’s chest. He continues to kiss the cat hybrid, even biting his pouty lips. Yoongi lets him be in control for now. Jungkook needs to enjoy himself too.
Jungkook’s hard-on presses against Yoongi’s lower stomach, and feeling the skin-on-skin contact, Jungkook begins to thrust again, moaning into Yoongi’s mouth.
Jungkook is curious, curious about Yoongi and his body. He’s touched and kissed parts of him, but now he wants it all. With a goal in mind, Jungkook’s hand trails down the cat hybrid’s body to palm his length over his pants. Yoongi moans are swallowed by Jungkook, who continues to feverishly kiss him, but when he reaches for his belt, Yoongi stops him.
“Not today, bunny,” he breathes, the grip on Jungkook’s wrist tight, “Today, I get to use you as I please.”
“What?” Jungkook asks, his brown eyes filled with disappointment.
“You heard me,” Yoongi says, sliding out from under him, “Sit up.”
Sitting on the edge of the bed, Yoongi kneels between his muscular legs.
Jungkook’s cock is equally hard as in the beginning, begging for attention. With a hand on Jungkook’s knee and another on his cock, Yoongi licks a stripe along the vein that runs up the shaft, instantly making Jungkook release a throaty moan.
“Look at me, bunny,” Yoongi purrs, “If you don’t, I’ll stop.”
Jungkook’s head snaps back down to stare at Yoongi, whose wet tongue licks the head of his cock. He coats the entire length with his spit with kisses and licks. Yoongi’s pink lips momentarily wrap around his cockhead as his tongue swirls the tip. He knows he’s teasing the poor bunny. It’s his way of pleasure to see the younger hybrid fall to pieces in splutters and stutters.
Yoongi teases him, going slow and shallow, drawing little whines from Jungkook’s swollen lips. Jungkook tries to push his cock more into Yoongi’s mouth, but the cat already sees it coming and pulls away.
“Yoongi, pl-ease,” Jungkook begs, teary-eyed. By now, he’s long forgotten about pleasing Yoongi as the fever inside of him gets higher.
“What’s that, Kook?” Yoongi feigns innocence, a string of saliva attaching him to Jungkook’s hard cock.
“D-don’t tease,” Jungkook stutters out. He tries to stroke himself in desperate need, only for Yoongi to stop him.
“So impatient,” Yoongi chastises, holding Jungkook’s wrist tightly, “Hands on your sides.”
Jungkook complains at the request, earning a glare from the cat hybrid, “If you’re not going to listen, I’ll leave,” he threatens. He’s just like his sister. For a moment, Yoongi entertains the idea of dominating you both simultaneously. What a treat it would be.
“No, no!” Jungkook exclaims, grabbing fistfuls of the crumpled bedsheets.
Yoongi smirks at the pretty bunny above him. His hair is messy from raking his fingers through it, long floppy ears falling to the sides, and cheeks flushed with arousal. He wants Jungkook to feel all the pleasure he can. While having sex without the rut is nice and fun, there’s something so satisfying about sex while in heat. No matter how small, every touch is amplified and can push you to the edge.
Now that Jungkook is obedient, Yoongi takes his length back into his mouth. He works getting most of Jungkook down his throat, Yoongi’s eyes water, but it doesn’t stop him. Bobbing his head to a steady rhythm, he sucks Jungkook off, his tongue occasionally dipping into the slit of his tip. The bunny is trying his best, the veins running up his arms popping from the tight grip on the bed. When Yoongi takes him deeper than before, the grip loosens as his right hand goes to the base of his cat ears.
Almost instantly, Yoongi purrs around his cock, enticing Jungkook to thrust up. It feels so good it’s overwhelming. With Jungkook pushing on his head Yoongi deep throats him, his nose brushing against the bunny’s base. Yoongi will never admit that while it hurts, he loves the feeling of a big cock down his throat.
With a few more bobs of Yoongi’s head, Jungkook bursts. His cum runs down the cat hybrid’s throat. Yoongi breathes heavily when he releases Jungkook. His eyes are red and watery, as are his nose and mouth. He continues to lightly lick Jungkook, entertained by the way his bunny ears twitch at the feeling.
Yoongi gets up from the floor as Jungkook falls back on the bed. The bunny hybrid is exhausted as his fever goes down to a normal temperature. Yoongi helps him lie back properly and covers him with the wrinkly bedsheet. Before Yoongi leaves the room, he brushes through Jungkook’s hair with his fingers, lightly rubbing the base of his bunny ears. The sleepy bunny makes an appreciative sound as his touch lulls him to sleep completely.
This is the worst of the heat. He should be able to take care of himself from tomorrow onwards. Yoongi leaves the food and water ready for Jungkook by the nightstand. Hopefully, when he’s awake, he’ll feel better.
Yoongi goes to your room to pack your bag. In there, your scent hits him mixed with Jungkook’s pheromones. If the bunnies had driven him mad, yours added to the mix just about ended him.
He lies in your bed by your pillow where your scent is strongest. It only takes him a second to undo his belt and pull his throbbing cock out of his pants. Spitting in his hand Yoongi flicks his wrist quickly, needing a release. He had his reasons for not letting Jungkook touch him, one being that it wouldn’t be fair for the bunny hybrid. He’d been in pain for too long.
The other reason was you. He’d happily done this favor for you, but now you had to pay up.
Reaching a moment of clarity, Yoongi slows his pace until he stops right before his release. He stands from the bed, tucking himself in again uncomfortably, and prepares your bag. As soon as he gets to his apartment, he’ll have his way with you, and the pent-up frustration will be worth it.
○●○●○●○●○●
Almost a year into the relationship, you decide it’s time for Yoongi to meet your parents. You organize a nice dinner at your parent’s house, they don’t have to do anything you’ll be the one cooking and setting the table.
Yoongi would get there later, Jungkook as well. You thought it would be nice to have moral support. Unfortunately, you took so long to cook that Yoongi arrived while you were getting ready, which means that your dad got the pleasure of greeting him at the door.
“Ah, if it isn’t Yoongi,” your dad exclaims cheerily, opening the door wider for Yoongi.
“Hello, I got this for you,” Yoongi nervously hands him a bottle of wine. It’s the one you mentioned your dad likes.
“I was hoping it would be the flowers,” your dad jokes, happily taking the wine.
“Is that Yoongi?” A friendly voice calls from the kitchen. Your mom walks out, surprising Yoongi with a warm hug. He hands her the flowers, which she gushes about. “Such a polite boy, don’t be shy. We don’t bite, we’ll except for Jungkookie.”
Yoongi stifles a smile because doesn’t he know it. Not only has he witnessed Jungkook shamelessly biting you when you get distracted, but that day where he needed help with his heat he left Yoongi with a few nasty marks. Marks which you later covered with your own.
“Honey, I’ll be showing Yoongi my office. We’ll be back soon,” your dad says, patting Yoongi on the back.
Yoongi is nervous, terrified even. His cat ears flatten as he follows your dad to his office. He’s only heard good things about him from you, but how reliable is that? Of course, he’s good to you and Jungkook, his kids. Yoongi is a stranger.
Yoongi sits in one of the chair desks awkwardly, looking around the room. Your dad looks him up and down as if deciding on Yoongi. From looks alone, Yoongi seems like a good man, but he needs to make his concerns known.
“Why are you with my daughter?” He asks straight to the point, his friendly smile disappearing.
“Because I love her,” Yoongi responds as best as he can.
There are a million reasons why he is with you. You’re kind, pretty, intelligent, sexy, talented, honest, and so much more. Despite all the arguments you’ve had you’ve never brought the fact his a hybrid into it. All those qualities led him to love you, the most important reason he is with you.
“It has nothing to do with her job and position in the company? How it may benefit you, Yoongi?” Your dad asks. If he didn’t ask these questions, he wouldn’t be doing his job as a father. The older man needs peace of mind that Yoongi’s intentions are the right ones.
“No. I didn’t even know she worked there till two months ago. By then, I had already fallen in love with her. I wouldn’t take advantage of her that way even if I had known before. Blue is one of the kindest people I’ve had the pleasure of meeting.”
Your father’s tense posture relaxes, and his grin returns, “Good answer. I hope you understand why I had to ask the question. I am only a concerned father.”
“I do. Can I ask a question myself?”
“Go ahead.”
“You don’t mind that your daughter is dating a hybrid?” Yoongi insecurely asks.
“Not at all. I believe hybrids are equal, if not better, than regular humans. My children have the liberty of dating whoever they please, and I’ll approve as long as they are treated with love and respect.”
Hybrids have a good judge of character, and Yoongi can tell that he is honest and means what he says. Fear aside, he is happy to have had this conversation with your dad.
“Daddy, Yoongi?” You call them, walking in the direction of the office.
“In here, sweetheart,” your dad responds.
“Dad, stop questioning Yoongi. It’s time for dinner,” you tell him, shooting Yoongi a reassuring grin.
“I wasn’t questioning, just having a man-to-man conversation,” he says, walking out of the office.
“Mhm,” you say, rolling your eyes. He does this with each boyfriend you’ve brought home.
“Hi, handsome,” you greet Yoongi, holding out your hand for him to take. He dressed up for the occasion, wanting to impress. He succeeded.
“Hey, Blue,” he says, grabbing your hand and intertwining your fingers. “You look pretty.”
“Thanks,” you peck him on the lips, brushing your thumb on his lips to get rid of the remaining lipstick.
“I heard that!” Your dad screams from the stairs with a laugh.
“Keep walking, old man,” you yell back, shaking your head with a smile.
Dinner was fun, and Yoongi felt like he was with family. Your family was very much like you, kind and accepting. Funny as hell, he smiled or laughed throughout most of the dinner. If he had to guess, he would’ve never known your dad was the CEO of a family company. He was very down to earth.
Not that he doubted, but your parents truly treated Jungkook as their own. The bunny hybrid has all of this family wrapped around his little finger. You grab his hand under the table and smile at him. He smiles back sincerely. He can see himself being part of this family for a long time. It heals the part of his broken heart that he thought was beyond repair.
“Let me go get dessert,” your mom announces, sanding from the table.
“I’ll help,” Yoongi pipes up, following the older lady to the kitchen.
“Now that I’ve got you here, I want to thank you,” your mom says as she cuts the chocolate cake you baked earlier.
“What for?” Yoongi asks, handing her the plates to place the cakes on.
“For helping our Jungkookie out,” she casually mentions.
Yoongi chokes on his own saliva, his mind going straight to him helping Jungkook through his heat. It was a given that it was something to keep to themselves. How close is Jungkook to his mom that he felt it was okay to tell her that Yoongi gave him not only a handjob but a blowjob? Furthermore, how can she be okay with her daughter’s boyfriend handing out favors like that to her son?
“He loves those damn vynils so much, he wouldn’t stop talking about how you gave him two limited edition ones,” she fondly laughs at her son.
“Oh, that. Yeah, no problem,” Yoongi sighs in relief. His spirit had left his body for a moment there.
“Let’s go before they start talking about the company. The dinner table is a no-work conversation zone,” your mom says, ushering Yoongi out of the kitchen as she hears her husband talking about numbers and beats.
○●○●○●○●○●
Tuesday, after dropping off lunch at your office Yoongi wanders to Hoseoks office, taking him up on his offer. He knocks, waiting for his new friend to open the door. Hoseok gives him a small tour of his studio and explains some of the newer equipment’s purposes to adjust Yoongi to the environment. Hoseok was right. This isn’t as intimidating as he’d thought. In fact, once he got the hang of it, inspiration returned to him.
“Go on, try and make a beat,” Hoseok encourages him. He already loves what Yoongi has to offer based on conversations alone. One of the reasons he left the company for a few months was for lack of inspiration. Although talented, none of the other producers offered something that spoke to him.
“I don’t want to take up too much of your time,” Yoongi tells Hoseok, knowing he is imposing on his work schedule.
“I have a meeting now, actually. It should take about two hours. Have fun,” Hoseok says, picking up his jacket from a small sofa off to the corner. Without looking behind him, he leaves Yoongi alone in the studio.
Looking at the closed door, Yoongi shrugs and puts on the headphones, working on a melody that has been bothering him for the past two years. Might as well.
Getting the hang of the equipment, he falls deep into a creative flow. He barely notices time go by. The piano notes carry him to new places in his mind as they fall into place in the track. It’s like a dam has been broken down. All he has flowing down at torrential speeds, with no one there to stop him.
A hand on his shoulder makes him jump and tear the headphones from his ears. Heightened senses fail him as Hoseok stands behind him, looking amused at his startled expression.
“The meeting ran late. I thought you’d gone home. Are you okay?” Hoseok asks. His two-hour meeting turned into four. The project’s creators fell into discord about what creative direction they should take it.
“I’m okay. I didn’t notice it had been two hours,” Yoongi says, looking at his watch.
“It be like that sometimes,” Hoseok giggles. He’s found himself in that position before. Music tends to dominate the creator most times. “Want to show me what you got?”
Yoongi nods, turning on the chair to give Hoseok a pair of headphones. Hoseok expected something good but unpolished, considering Yoongi’s time away from producing. The first note of the track proves him wrong. Hoseok does not speak for the duration of the track taking in the masterpiece Yoongi created.
Hoseok is amazed Yoongi managed to inspire him more than most of the producers that work in the company. It’s raw and heartfelt, honest. It comes from a place of experience.
“You did this in four hours?” Hoseok asks, amazed.
“I mean, I’ve had part of the melody for years, but the rest, yeah,” Yoongi says nervously. Does Hoseok think it’s trash?
“It’s phenomenal. You have to consider joining the company!”
“Seriously?”
“Yoongi, you’ve got me feeling more with that track than I have in a good while,” Hoseok confesses.
Hoseok is boosting Yoongi’s confidence and ego. He forgot the effect his music can have on people. It’s addicting.
Someone interrupts them by knocking on the door and peaking their head in. It’s a wolf hybrid Yoongi recognizes. “Namjoon?”
“Hi, Yoongi!” The hybrid smiles widely, fist-bumping him.
“I see you two know each other,” Hoseok says, searching for the hard drive Namjoon came for.
“Yeah, Yoongi sometimes comes to the concerts and helps sell tapes,” Namjoon says.
“Well, his girlfriend recruited you,” Hoseok tells him.
“Blue recruited him?” Yoongi asks, surprised.
“Yeah, she bought one of his tapes from your store and liked what he had to offer,” Hoseok explains, handing Namjoon the hard drive.
“She hunted me down until I said yes,” Namjoon laughs, remembering that moment from months ago.
“Can I ask about the conditions of working here? With us being hybrids and all?” Yoongi asks Namjoon. While Hoseok has helped him so much, he needs the insight of a hybrid who works at the company to fully convince him.
“I can honestly say this job is one of the few that treats their workers equally. So far, I haven’t had a single bad or sketchy situation. If you have an opportunity to join, take it! It’d be nice to have you on the music scene again.”
“Thanks,” Yoongi has much to consider, but the more time he spends here, the more convinced he is.
○●○●○●○●○●
“What would you say if I accepted your dad’s job offer?” Yoongi asks you one night while you are getting ready for bed.
“I’d say I’m thrilled and proud of you, Yoongs,” you grin at him through the mirror.
“You wouldn’t mind working with me?” He says as he walks up behind you, eyes locked on you through the reflection.
“Not at all,” you shake your head, “I know it might seem like too much, but I assure you we won’t see each other so much that it’ll come to that.”
You and Hoseok barely see each other in the office since you mostly work on different projects. While Hoseok is a producer, he is also an artist, so he mainly works on his own stuff. On the other hand, you work for female artists and girl groups.
“I’m more worried about you being sick of me,” he jokes, throwing an arm over your chest to pull you close to him.
“Don’t be. I love you. When I get sick of you will be the day hell freezes over,” you say, looking up at him.
“I want to work on something that will make you proud and won’t make you regret your decision,” he whispers. He wants to be successful for you. You deserve only the best.
“Don’t doubt yourself, Yoongi. No matter what you do, ill be proud of it, even if it’s a kid’s song about tomatoes.” You think there is nothing Yoongi can do to disappoint you.
“I don’t think the parents will appreciate my swearing,” he admits with a laugh, knowing how much he swears.
You laugh along, “Me either. Maybe that will set you apart from the competition. Oh! How about a cursing alphabet?!”
“You’re a genius,” Yoongi fake gasps, making you giggle. He sweetly kisses your cheek, “Let’s go to bed.”
○●○●○●○●○●
Yoongi hires a new employee for the Music Store in a matter of weeks and begins his new job. As you said, he doesn’t get to see you much, if only brief glimpses in the hallway before you get pulled away to a meeting or studio.
With Hoseoks and Namjoon’s help, he quickly gets the hang of everything in the studio. Currently, he’s a producer. He creates music he likes and collaborates with artists who want to use his songs.
It’s been smooth sailing; his supervisors and senior producers are happy with his efficiency and creativity. They often seek him out for input on work of their own. Yoongi couldn’t be happier.
He delves into his work, giving it his all. It’s everything he ever wanted and more. But with that also comes pressure. Pressure to improve and better himself. Like he wants to upstage himself every day, and that takes time.
○●○●○●○●○●
A Saturday morning two months after Yoongi began working at the company, you wake up to your boyfriend sitting at your desk working away.
He can’t hear you, as you call him, because of the massive headphones over his ears. You let the sheets fall off your naked body and walk over to him, sitting on his lap.
“Morning, Blue,” he says, kissing your head and hugging your waist, preventing you from sliding off his lap. Yet his eyes stay trained on the computer.
“Whatcha doing?” You ask, ignoring the computer to kiss his neck.
“Just finishing something up,” he sighs as his grip tightens on your hip.
“I was thinking we could go out today to the countryside, drive around and get some fresh air,” you suggest, brushing his hair away from his eyes. His cat ears flicker on the top of his head with the gesture.
“Give me an hour to finish this?” He asks, looking down at you.
“A kiss first,” you say.
Yoongi rolls his eyes with a smile and leans down to press his lips against yours. You pull him closer by the neck, deepening the kiss. You’ve missed him. Now that he doesn’t work at the store, he doesn’t have as much time to spare.
You see each other every day, mainly in the mornings and late at night when he returns from work. You haven’t said anything about the matter giving him time to adjust to his new job and schedule.
“Alright, one hour,” you say, standing from his lap. Before you walk away, you feel a smack to your butt. “Hey!”
“Couldn’t resist,” Yoongi laughs as you rub your butt cheek to soothe the sting.
“Don’t start something you can’t finish,” you pout, escaping to the bathroom.
Yoongi quickly got ready one hour later, and you both headed off to the countryside. Yoongi drives your car with one hand on the steering wheel and the other on your thigh.
“Is it everything you expected it to be?” You ask Yoongi about his job.
“It’s better than I ever thought, Blue. And I have you to thank,” he says, squeezing your thigh.
“I mean, I only cleared up a misunderstanding. You’re doing all the work, Mr. Genius,” you grin.
Everything you’ve heard about Yoongi has been good. As a company member, it makes you happy that he works there, and as his girlfriend, it makes you proud. Everyone can see how amazing he is, and he’s all yours.
“Tell me, what songs have I heard that you’ve worked on,” he asks you.
The day was yours to enjoy, and you did. You needed this time with Yoongi. You had been so used to spending so much time together that you missed him like crazy.
Yoongi needed this too you are his inspiration, after all.
○●○●○●○●○●
Yoongi taps his foot on the floor of the elevator. The company’s CEO, aka your dad, called him up to his office. He sounded normal on the phone not mad, so maybe it’s just a catch-up?
Still, his survival instincts tell him he’s in trouble and should run. He shoves them to the back of his head as the elevator dings and opens its doors.
The secretary tells him to go on ahead into the office. Your dad is there, ruffling through paperwork and signing documents.
“Yoongi, you’re here, good!”
“Is everything alright?” Yoongi asks, sitting on the edge of the seat.
“Yes and no,” he says, folding his hands on the desk.
“Oh?” Yoongi simply responds over the knot in his throat.
“Relax, Yoongi, it’s nothing too bad,” the man reassures him,” I really like that track you submitted, as did many of the artists.”
“Really?” Yoongi says with a small smile.
“Yes, the problem is no one has managed to capture it as well as you,” the CEO explains.
“I’m sorry. Should I continue working on it? Submit a new track?” Yoongi’s insecurity causes him to ramble and miss the CEO’s point.
“No, Yoongi. I was actually thinking of you performing them,” he explains.
“But I’m not an artist; I’m a producer.”
“That’s true, but there’s one step more to become an artist, only if you’d like that,” the man says, offering Yoongi what most would believe is a promotion.
“You want me to be an artist?” Yoongi questions, did he hear right?
“Yes, much like Hoseok or Namjoon. You already have this track, and I know you’ve been working on others with those you can create an album,” the man suggests encouragingly. “What do you say?”
“What if people don’t like me?” Yoongi wonders.
“We can do a test, arrange for you to open for Hoseok’s show, and get a feel of the vibe,” your dad says.
“I’ll do it,” Yoongi nods, “Thank you, sir.”
○●○●○●○●○●
Depending on who you ask, the CEO’s decision was both good and bad. For Yoongi, it’s a dream come true. After he performed his single in Hoseok’s concert, it was clear that most loved the song and the passion Yoongi brought to the stage. You were in the crowd, cheering him on louder than anyone.
But with great power comes great responsibility. If Yoongi was a workaholic as a producer, he’s even more so as an artist working on his new album. He feels the need to prove a point and create a near-perfect album.
His days and nights are spent at the studio, and whenever he’s not there, he’s also at home working.
You have supported him every step, offering him advice when he asks. You make sure he eats at least two meals a day and sleeps a few hours a day.
As the weeks go by, it’s like your relationship has been on the back burner and is no longer a priority. You let it pass, knowing this is important to Yoongi. He’ll snap out of it soon enough.
As five o’clock comes around one Friday night, you go to Yoongis studio. You both get off work at the same time maybe you could go home together as well. Yoongi has been staying till nearly midnight in the studio this whole week and leaving home stupidly early. The only indication that he slept with you being the kisses on the forehead he gives you when he gets home.
You knock on the door in case he is in a meeting, but his voice lets you know you can go in. He’s slouched in his rolling chair as a beat replays on the speakers.
“You okay, Yoongs?” You ask, having the feeling that he’s not.
“Frustrated,” he says pointedly over the music.
Coming up behind him, you hug him as best you can. He grabs one of your arms around him and kisses the back of your hand.
“Take a break from it,” you say, “Let’s go home. You can come back Monday.”
“I can’t, Blue. I’m so close to finishing it,” Yoongi responds.
That seems to be his usual excuse nowadays ‘it’s almost done,’ and yet it’s not a lie. Yoongi just has a problem with self-control. As soon as he finishes a track, he starts another one.
Taking a more straightforward approach, you push his chair away from the desk, turning him around to face you. “You’re taking a break, Yoongi.”
“I don’t know, Blue,” he says, unconvinced.
“Yoongi, please,” you beg, sitting on his lap, “I need you,” you whisper in his ear.
Those words alone are enough to get Yoongi fired up. Guilt also seeps into his bones as he knows he’s neglected you a little. It’s been nearly two weeks since you’ve last been together, a rare occurrence. At a certain point in you’re relationship, you had sex every day of the week. He comes to the conclusion he has to pleasure you here and now. He can’t leave his Blue like this for another second.
He grabs the back of your neck and pulls you close to kiss you. The kiss soon turns frantic with wet tongues and harsh bites. Yoongi’s hand leaves your hip as the other caresses one of your thighs. Slowly it stops at your knee and gently forces it apart to trail his hand under your skirt. He first squeezes the inside of your thigh, eliciting a soft moan from your swollen lips. With his index and middle finger, he presses your center over the thin material of your underwear. Yoongi works his fingers around the area, feeling the wetness seep out of you.
“More,” you sigh over his pink lips. Pulling your panties to the side, he traces your outer lips with his fingers making you needier by the second. A series of begs come out of your mouth, urging him to fuck you with his fingers at least. Light as a feather, he touches your sopping center up and down, toying with your clit. Your hips twitch the slightest bit, pleasing him beyond extremes. He loves to see you struggle.
Dragging his index finger down your folds, he pushes his finger in. He groans into your mouth, forgetting how oh-so-tight you are. “Yes, Yoongi, just like that,” you sensually moan as he moves his finger in and out. Soon he adds another finger, and he feels as if his fingers almost suffocate with how tightly your gripping them. “Fuck Blue, such a tight pussy. Will you be able to take my cock?”
“I can do it, Yoongi,” You whine, laying your head on his shoulder. Yoongi scissors his fingers, stretching you out. He can’t wait to be inside of you. His cock becomes rock hard, straining under his tight jeans at the thought of using your pussy. How could he let so much time pass? He’s an idiot.
“You should cum over my fingers first,” he murmurs, using his thumb to rub her clit in fast circles. It’s his goal to make her cum around his fingers first. Feel her walls pulse and tighten even more.
You squirm on top of him, chasing your release. With a few more thrusts of his curling fingers, you become undone. Your body uncontrollably tenses on top of him, your teeth biting at the juncture of his neck and shoulder, causing him to moan. He hates to admit he likes that more than expected.
“Good girl, Blue,” Yoongi tells her, pulling his fingers out of her and spreading them to see the slickness between them. Your eyes watch as he places his fingers in his mouth and sucks them clean.
“Fuck,” you moan out at the erotic sight. You need his cock now. Standing from the uncomfortable chair, you undo the zipper of your skirt and let it fall to the ground, along with your shirt. Next goes your bra and panties, which you throw with your foot in his direction. He is quick to catch them and stuff them in his pocket. It might not be the first time he sees you wholly naked, but what a sight you are. Standing as you came into the world in his studio confidently, you have curves in all the right places and perky tits with pink nipples topping them off.
“Take a picture. It’ll last longer,” You say with a wicked grin.
“You’re perfect.” not the first and hopefully not the last time Yoongi grabs his phone and snaps a picture. It doesn’t beat the real deal, but it does get him off whenever you’re not around.
Not wanting to be left behind, Yoongi removes his hoodie and t-shirt in one motion. To tease your needy ass, he takes his time unbuttoning his jeans while keeping his eyes focused on you. You’re biting your lip and playing with one of your nipples as he does. Finally, he eliminates the last layer of clothing, leaving him bare in front of you. You moan at the sight of him. His cock big and thick, a vein running along its length, and his tip almost red. Wetness coats your thighs, your mind plays too many scenarios to comprehend.
Both take rapid steps towards the other and meet in the middle with a searing kiss with tongues twisting together in a dance. You roam your hands over his arms, pecs, and toned stomach. His black tail brushes against your side at the same time. Sneakily you grab his cock in your hands, pumping it a few times. Yoongi gasps, breaking their kiss as you touch his sensitive head, spreading his precum on his length.
He leads you to the small leather couch in his office and makes you straddle him. “Are you ready, Blue?” He asks, rubbing his tip back and forth on your slit, getting it wet with your slick.
“Just do it, please,” you beg, touching his shoulders. Yoongi lines his cock with your entrance and slowly pushes you down on him. You feel inch after inch entering you. You missed the feeling of him stretching you out. All you can do is hold onto his strong shoulders and moan.
Yoongi has to concentrate hard on not finishing too soon. The way your warm walls feel around him is excruciatingly good. He takes a moment to compose himself before he begins to slowly and deeply thrust up into you. “That’s it, Blue. Take it all,” he groans.
“Fuck, Yoongi feels so good. I missed you,” you sob into his ear.
The room is humid, with sounds of moans and the slapping of skin. Yoongi picks up the pace, moving your hips to the rhythm he set to fuck harder into you. You bounce on top of him, sweat trailing down your neck and into your chest. Leaning forward, he takes one of your nipples into his mouth, sucking and nibbling repeatedly. He swears he can feel you get wetter as it coats his cock and the top of his thighs.
“You’re driving me insane, Blue.” He’s losing control. There is no way he’s lasting much longer. The closer he gets, the more irregular his thrusts become. With his fingers digging into your hips, he shoots his load inside you as you moan at the sensation of being filled. It warms you up, and with his cock still inside you, you feel full and satisfied. You don’t care at the moment you didn’t get to finish, you relish being this close to Yoongi.
Yoongi lays limp under her for a second, eyes scrunched and teeth biting his lower lip. You spread kisses on his jaw and neck, leaving little marks behind that will fade by morning. His skin is sweaty yet delicious as you lick up the column of his neck. Tugging his lip away from his teeth, you softly kiss him, lips slotting together flawlessly.
Being the gentleman he is, Yoongi unexpectedly gets up, wraps your legs around him, and sits you on his desk. He pulls out of you and observes his seed seeping out of your pink pussy. Kneeling on the floor, he then licks up your slit. You cry out from the sudden pleasure and sink your fingers in his hair, causing him to purr. Locking eyes with you, he pushes his tongue into you, tasting a mix of you and him. He rubs your clit as he licks until you can barely speak.
“O-oh my g-god, kitty,” you mewl, tilting your head back and propping yourself up with a hand before you collapse on the control panel.
The way your body reacts assures Yoongi you’re close. Speeding up his movements, his lips wrap around your clit and suck. Finally, as you climax, he bites down gently on your bundle of nerves amplifying whatever you were feeling before. With toes curled and no control of your body, you push Yoongi away before you pass out from the pleasure.
Coming down from your high, you look at Yoongi and begin laughing, “That was fucking great.”
“I had to make up for lost time,” Yoongi chuckles, standing between your legs and hugging you.
“Let’s go home?” You plead with your eyes.
“Let’s go home, Blue,” he says, playing with a strand of your hair.
○●○●○●○●○●
You give your keys to your car to the valet and walk into the fancy restaurant. Your parents had invited you to dinner to catch up, Yoongi was supposed to come but last minute, said he couldn’t because he had a lot going on.
What you hoped was only a phase has become routine. Too many times, Yoongi has canceled on you or stood you up. He sleeps in your apartment but gets home exhausted and barely speaks to you. It’s incredibly frustrating.
You thank the waiter as he pulls your chair out for you and pushes you in. Your parents are already sitting with a glass of wine.
“How are you, honey?” Your mom asks sweetly.
“I’m okay,” you respond, trying to pretend you are okay when in reality, you’re not yourself.
You never wanted to become the girl dependent on her boyfriend. You like to believe you’re not her. Then why is Yoongi’s absence affecting you so much? You’re known at work for your cheery, happy songs, yet all you’ve written for the past few weeks have been sad songs. They are bangers, but not what your artists require.
As soon as you walked in, your mom knew something was off. You’re not carrying yourself as you usually do, your shoulders are slumped, and you’re looking down at the ground as you walk.
“Where’s Yoongi? I thought he was coming.” She asks, immediately knowing the problem.
“He had a lot going on in the studio,” you repeat his excuse, swirling the wine served in your glass.
“I must say he has exceeded all expectations. I expect his album to be a hit,” your dad says excitedly, none the wiser.
“I’m happy to hear that. He’s so worried over it and is overworking himself,” you force a smile, “Just now, Yoongi was saying he was behind on a track.”
“Behind? Yoongi is ahead of schedule. I’ve told him to take a break,” your dad scoffs, looking over the menu.
“What?” You ask, meeting his gaze. All this time, he’s been telling you he’s behind. It’s one of the reasons you haven’t confronted him. You want him to do well, after all.
“At the speed he’s going, we can release his album two months before scheduled,” your dad shrugs.
“Good,” you say dryly.
Immediately after dinner, you rush back into the studio, finding Yoongi still holed up there. You slam the door open, startling him. He looks at you up and down, seeing you all dressed up, beautiful.
“How was dinner?” He asks, turning back around to face the screen. Missing your response, he turns back around, “What’s wrong?”
“Two months ahead? What the fuck, Yoongi?” You yell at him, arms crossed over your chest.
“What are you talking about?” He asks, standing from his chair to come closer to you.
With each step he takes forward, you take one back, “Your album. My dad just told me you’re ahead of schedule.”
“Well, yeah, but there is still so much work to do,” Yoongi responds sincerely as if there’s nothing wrong with his confession.
“I’ve let you do as you pleased, thinking you were still adapting, getting used to the industry, but you’ve been holed up in here, ignoring me because you want to?” You ask him, trying to ignore the knot forming in your throat.
“I haven’t been ignoring you,” he shakes his head, trying to reach out to you.
“Yoongi, when was the last time we went on a date? Hell, the last time we had breakfast together?” You ask him, knowing it’s been far too long.
Yoongi stays silent, confirming your thoughts. He hadn’t realized how much time had passed since he was hired.
“Exactly, I can’t even remember when we had a proper conversation that wasn’t about work,” you say, frowning. You tried to ignore all the red flags but no more. This isn’t good for you or him.
“Blue, you don’t understand,” he begins saying.
“What the fuck did you just say?” You yell as your fists clench at your sides, “Min Yoongi, I’ve been working here for far longer than you have, and I have never once made you a second priority. I’ve always made time for you and checked up on you. My life is not my job; it’s only part of it.
I understand this is your dream, and I want it for you so badly, Yoongi. I’ve been rooting for you all this time, and I still am. But I didn’t know that in achieving your dream, you would give me up. I want you to succeed, and I want to be by your side when you do. I want to be there for you in your new life, in your ups and downs. I want to be a part of us.
But if you can’t commit to me, if you don’t let me be there for you, then what are we even doing?” Your eyes are welled with tears when you finish speaking. You refuse to let them fall.
You stand there vulnerable, letting Yoongi into your thoughts, and all he says is, “This is what I’ve always wanted, Blue.”
This. Not Us. Yoongi doesn’t want you that much is clear.
You don’t have any more fight in you. You’re tired of waiting on him. If he doesn’t want you, why stay?
“If you let me walk out, I’m not coming back.”
You turn around, walking toward the door. Yoongi stays quiet through it all. He thinks this is for the best. You are right, he’s been neglecting you. It’s not fair for either of you. He hates seeing you go, he loves you with all he has, but this is his one chance. The only opportunity to make everything right.
You beg for him in your head to call out your name. All you want is for Yoongi to stop you and make you stay. You could go home together and forget all of this happened. It’s Yoongi’s choice, and he chose to see you close the door behind you.
To think tomorrow was your first anniversary.
END OF PART 1
PART 2 COMING SOON
Taglist: @its-yagirl-raelynn @severecatsheep @hyunjingin @kikiisda1 @xjiminsthighsx @seoul9711 @lovelytaes-blog @wittyreader @blackdriedroses @innebulae @sugak00kie03 @tokiodori @hemmofluke @strxwbloody @clevercoley @ysljoon @hajimaoppaa @onlythebest-106 @enchanting-coffee @mrskimjoon @rinkud @belikejk @goldietigers294 @petalsofink @bangtan4everr @fanficscuziranout
If you want to be added comment, send me a message or ask!
#min yoongi x you#min yoongi#bts#bts fanfiction#bts oneshot#yoonkook#bts imagine#bts hybrid smut#bts hybrid au#bts hybrid x reader#suga x reader#forgive me for i have sinned#bts hybrid fanfic#bts smut#smut#bts fanfic#bts imagines#bts oneshots#min yoongi imagine#min yoongi x reader#fanfiction#jungkook smut
848 notes
·
View notes
Text
public occurrences. // myg.
pairing: Idol!Yoongi x Female!Reader
summary: It's been almost a year since Vegas. As one would expect, life hasn't gotten any easier. If anything it's gotten even more chaotic. The world knows who you are now... There aren't anymore secrets to hide.
words: 6k
warnings: SLIGHT SPOILERS IN THE WARNINGS. use of cuss words, they talk of anxiety, some mental health situations, talks about a miscarriage, talks about Jin and other members leaving. other than that- not much else. If I missed anything PLEASE let me know.
a/n: CAN'T BELIEVE ANOTHER VEGAS IS HERE. Enjoy my loves. Thank you for all the love and support always. <3 It's just a short little drabble of one specific moment of time, but I thought it was pretty important.
~ the end of february 2023 ~
A dull pain begins to erupt where you’ve had your jaw clenched for the last twenty minutes. A soreness in your jaw you’re not quite sure will ever be able to go away. For the past few months it’s found itself in this compromised position.
Your entire body is made of steel, your joints creaking as you attempt to pull yourself together amidst the panic ensuing within your nervous system. Limbs heavy to the point you aren’t sure whether or not you’ll be able to exit the vehicle.
Breathe in, breathe out. The words repeat.
Breath in, breathe out. It made you want to sing Hobi’s song. Inhale, inhale, exhale, exhaaale. But there was no time for fun. Not when you were about to walk outside in front of cameras for the first time in eight years.
The morning was spent in a blur, the attempts to perfect your hair and makeup happening at an hour too early, much like how you rolled out of bed. An hour too early. You were awake before your daughter even had the chance to stir.
Anxiety had been simmering beneath your skin for weeks. You could barely eat, the nausea would rip through you violently. Again, for the past few months that’s how life has been, nausea, anxiety, melancholy thoughts and dreams, however this event seemed to be adding twice as much. These past few days you’ve probably accumulated a total of nine hours of sleep. You had more shuteye the week after your daughter's birth.
There seemed to be a butterfly effect from the events in Vegas. The incident that caused countless meetings and endless discussions because the company just couldn’t handle anymore media control or protection. You should never have trusted that girl.
BigHit took their time, the company drug out the announcement as long as they could so it would surpass Jin’s deployment and your goddamn wedding. Now, with it being the end of February, Yoongi’s been traveling absolutely everywhere for basketball games, photoshoots, and he’s announced a tour… It was about to happen. For the very first time in eight years you were officially about to be on camera, branded by flashes, posted online permanently, forever going to be seen and known as Min Yoongi’s wife.
Next to you, Yoongi grips your knee tight, in hopes to settle your worries. Glancing down to his knobby hand you sigh and suck in a deep breath.
“We’ll be fine,” he said softly. Meeting his comforting gaze, you attempt to smile, one that makes him laugh. “I promise. Remember everything we talked about?”
You do. Of course you do. It’s been playing on repeat for one hundred and sixty eight hours.
That’s how many hours are in a week. You had to google that.
When this entire plan was set in place you requested a play by play, a step by step tutorial- a rehearsal even! You were walking out into the public eye with your child for the first time. People knew who you were now.
There were going to be cameras, and fans, and paparazzi, and loud noises, and people rushing you, and standards to follow. It was all too much, it all seemed to be entirely too much. You were going to have a toddler on your hip, one who could barely stand to be in a room full of people her father worked with let alone god knows how many strangers at an airport.
“What happens first?” Yoongi asked, reaching for one of your hands to tangle his fingers with yours. He could feel your panic. “Tell me the first thing we’re going to do.”
Gulping, you respond, “Park.” Looking up at his short hair that you’re livid with- his long hair was dreamy, and sexy, and you could pull it- you receive another laugh. He hadn’t expected you to be so literal.
“Good, we’ll park,” he praised. “And then what?” Tipping his chin down his eyes widened a bit, becoming all the more endearing.
“Then, Branson and his team get out,” you said, feeling a bit better looking into his eyes. Yoongi gives you a soft smile, dragging his thumb over the back of your hand.
“Has Branson ever let you down?”
“Never,” you whispered. Almost nine incident free years with the man, after Yoongi, you depended on.
Your husband leans in to press a kiss to your forehead. “Exactly,” he said. “What happens next?”
Going through the last three simple steps, everything seemed ready to go to plan. Once Branson was ready, you were going to take your daughter out of her carseat, exit the car, and follow the men inside. You would be the one to carry your daughter, just in case. People were unpredictable in these situations, and Yoongi agreed that if something were to happen to him here, you should be the one to carry her inside. As much as that little comment terrified you to hear him say, he was right.
Simple as pie. You hoped.
In a perfect world that’s how it would happen, and you want nothing more than for this to go smoothly.
People knew your name. Everyone has found out that it’s been years. The company was prepared for mass destruction, and so were you and Yoongi. A first public appearance, this is where it would all go to shit. There isn’t much chaos people can fully ensue over the internet.
As for your friends, the two of you personally asked them to stay out of it and at the drop of a hat they agreed. The five boys and Sunny shook on it. No one would say a word publicly, no one would do any interviews, no tweets, no Instagram posts, no stories pushed, no Weverse comments. Silence. Radio silence.
Jin has most definitely heard what has happened, and the next time you and Yoongi get to see him, there will be tea to spill. Your heart aches whenever you think about him, especially for Yoongi. He’s had to go through this madness and so much more without his best friend.
The week after he left was complete and utter hell for your family. And not just because of Jin.
Pushing aside all thoughts of having to redo the motions with Hobi very soon, you come to realize that steps one and two of the plan have already commenced.
The black SUV was parked in front of the airport, and Branson and his team were setting themselves up. Through the dark tinted windows there are crowds upon crowds of people, masses of them so large one would think the entire band was here. It reminded you of a concert, they were all waiting in groups with their phones out, pointing them at the vehicles that you and your team were in.
Slapping your hand on top of Yoongi's, you grip it tight, digging your nails into his palm. He places his other right on top of yours.
“I can’t do it,” you mumbled, whipping your head to shoot him a terrified look.
Yoongi smiles, though your fear threatens to crack him. If this wasn’t ordered by the company he’d whisk you away to safety, getting inside the airport without a soul knowing. He’s broken these rules before, going against what his company wants for your sake, it’s been eight years of you coming first, you topping all things that have to do with his job.
Now that the gig was up, now that people knew who you were and knew that it’s been forever, he feels as though he owes it to his fans to do a three minute appearance. As much as he was deeply in love with you, he loved his fans almost as much. He wanted to show you off, he wanted the world to see who’s been keeping him sane all this time, who’s been the source of his happiness for years.
“Yanno, the last time you told me that you seemed to handle everything just fine,” he said, glancing at your sleeping daughter beside you. Blowing a gust of air through your lips, you roll your eyes.
“I didn’t have to do any work, D, they cut her out of me,” you grilled back, narrowing your eyes. “I can’t-” your words are cut off by a sudden short breath. “I feel like I can’t breathe,” escapes you in a whisper.
Branson taps his fist on the window a couple of times gently, signaling that he was ready for the three of you to come out. The murmurs from the crowds can be heard, leaking through the cracks in the doors, swarming around you constricting your chest.
Yoongi slips an arm around your back, holding you against him tight. Burying your face into his chest, he rests his chin on top of your head and takes a deep breath. You can feel his beating heart steady between his lungs. This was just another day for him. He’s had ten years to grow used to this.
“I was afraid this was going to happen,” he said softly. Peeking up at him, you frown.
“What?” you question, lowering your brows. He nods a couple of times, giving you a small smile.
“I was afraid this was going to happen, because I knew this was going to happen,” he said.
“Me freaking out, right?” you sighed, your tone completely breathless. A soft hum leaves his chest as he ponders what you’ve said, then he shakes his head. “What?” you question again with more vigor.
“Well,” he huffs a gentle laugh, “I figured something along the lines of that would happen, but only ‘cause of her,” he nods to your daughter, “Not because you’re scared of going out there. You’re only worried for her. If it were seven years ago you think you’d feel this way?”
Shaking your head to answer him, the electricity coursing through your veins seems to subside.
“Exactly,” he smirked. “Before her you were dancing in the streets before my shows, you were talking to people, my fans! You were prancing around stadiums and concerts like it was nothing.”
“I loved doing that,” you smiled.
“Fuck yeah, you loved doing that,” he said, giving you the smallest shake. “And, you know what? It’s not just you going out there as my wife, right? They know what you’ve done for us, they know what you’ve made for us.”
Your smile starts to grow. He was right. The fans, the people, they loved your work. The music videos, the art, the TinyTan, the creative concepts, the photoshoots, all of it. They finally knew that it was you. The ghost creator had been unveiled.
“You probably have fans of your own,” Yoongi said matter of factly. “I guarantee you all these people are here for you, not me.” Frowning humorously, you make him laugh.
“Doubt that,” you said flatly.
“Alright, half and half,” he winked, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “We can do this, you can do this. We’re doing it together, like we do everything. We’ll get through this together. We always do. Just think, next time we see Jin we have to tell him all about this, he’ll never believe it.”
Averting your eyes from his, your mind is suffocated by the many, many things you’re going to have to tell Jin when you’re with him again, which you’re hoping is soon. So much has happened, so much has changed, and it’d only been about three months.
“Yeah,” you whispered, flickering your eyes up to Yoongi who’s flashing you a curious look. “He probably still thinks I’m pregnant.”
A flash of discomfort wrecks his expression for all of two seconds as he glances away from you with a breath. Swallowing hard, he relaxes his face and looks back at you, his lips pressed together tight.
“He, uh,” he began in a whisper, “He... knows.” Before you have a chance to say anything, the subtle shock on your face telling him plenty, he cuts you off. “I’m sorry, baby. I had to tell him, it’s Jin, that’s my best friend, he’s the only one I could even say the words to.”
Sitting up a bit, you reach a hand up to cup his cheek, dragging your thumb over his smooth skin. “D, it’s okay,” you reassured him, bobbing your head. His lips form a pout, one that gets you to giggle. “I promise, it’s okay.”
There’s a moment of quiet between the two of you, feelings swirling around the empty air as you both choose what to do or say next. Yoongi leans into you, kissing your forehead once more before placing his own there.
“You’re so incredible,” he said, watching you flutter your eyes shut. “The strongest woman I know, the most talented woman I know. On top of having such a beautiful, creative mind, you’re a fucking fantastic mother.” Yoongi pauses, taking a deep breath, as do you. “He was lucky to have you for as long as he did.”
A lump lodges in your throat. Scrunching your face, you shake your head, rubbing your forehead to his.
“Don’t make me cry,” you said, voice wavering with uncertainty.
“Cry?” a tiny voice speaks up from your right, a yawn of the same intensity coming out of her straight after. Popping your eyes open you share a small smile with your husband, and just as you’re about to turn to your little one, Yoongi slips a hand beneath your chin, holding you in place.
“Hey,” his voice is soothing. “I love you.” Your heart flutters.
“I love you, too,” you whispered, accepting the quick kiss he gives you.
Turning to the carseat that has secured a permanent spot in this car, you smile at your daughter who has her head turned toward you and her father. Her sleepy eyes entice a happy hum from you.
“You were supposed to sleep through this,” you said sarcastically sweet. Yoongi chuckles, unbuckling from his seat. The clang of the metal on the door makes your heart skip a beat.
“No,” your daughter said. “No sleep. All done.” Her voice is tiny, and slightly broken, and not hitting all of the right sounds, but her speech has only been improving. The two of you speak to her like she’s a human being, saving the baby voices for when she’s feeling silly, which can attest to her strong vocabulary and understanding of conversation.
You’re beginning to think she is a genius like her father.
“Mama, up,” she cooed, reaching out her arms that were finally starting to get a little chubby. Her cheeks had caught up to her as well, they were finally perfectly pinchable.
Freeing her from the car seats restraints, your daughter aids you in her escape, launching herself forward and up into your arms with a shout.
“Oh!” she giggles once her arms are around your neck and her face is buried in your hair.
“Oh!” you and Yoongi copy her, to which she responds with another shout.
Her attentive eyes point out the window when she sits herself up, tapping on your shoulder a couple of times with her palm. Lifting a hand, she tries to point at the crowds of people.
“Where?” she asked curiously, looking to either of her parents for an answer. Her voice turned you into a complete puddle, the sound coming out as ‘Wheh?’, the middle syllable is even more pronounced when she questions the two of you again.
Yoongi brings a hand to her forehead, brushing away a few dark hairs that fell into her eyes. The girl hated bows, you stopped trying.
“We’re at the airport,” he told her, and she listened with all of her might. “We’re going on a plane, isn’t that fun? You like flying.” Her eyes blink a few times, taking her time to process the words.
Sighing aloud, dramatically of course, she glances out the window and mumbles a jumble of sounds. Following her gaze, you gulp.
Eager eyes of bystanders attempted to shatter the glass of the tinted windows.
“Mama,” your daughter said, looking at you. “Go, Mama,” she bounced once. “Go,” she bounced twice. You knew the moment you stepped out into the noise and the flashing lights that she would have a meltdown, but you admired her desire to get out of the car. Yoongi was right, she loved flying, it was her second favorite thing right now. Securely at number one was Jungkook, for a year and seven months. That spot was unattainable for anyone else.
“Shall we?” Yoongi offered, watching you fiercely, letting you take the lead. He waited patiently for your answer, heaving a sigh of relief when you finally gave him a tentative nod of your head.
“Dada, go,” your daughter babbled. “Mama, go. Dada, go. Mama, go.”
Sharing a laugh with Yoongi, you take a long deep breath and tighten your grip around her back, holding her in front of your chest. Smiling at you, your baby touched a hand to your cheek.
“I love you,” you whispered to her. She leans her head toward you and puts her nose on yours.
“Ah-luh-oo,” she tried her best to repeat. Stealing a kiss from her, you let Yoongi press a thousand to her cheek to make her giggle, and then it’s time.
Everything seems to move in slow motion, your vision tunneling as your husband opens the car door. Pulling a mask over his face, he sends you a reassuring wink before he rounds the vehicle.
Screams erupt from every corner of the space, and shouting from the team can already be heard. Strict shouting, like things were getting crazy already. Your daughter’s eyes are wide as she looks out the windows and up at you. Her curiosity has been swapped for a little bit of fear.
You couldn’t let her see you panic.
Sliding off of the leather seat and onto the concrete of the airport lot, you pull a mask over your own face and instantly slip a hand to the back of your baby's head. Her legs were wrapped around your torso, and the moment you stepped outside her arms clung around your neck for safety. You already had a suspicion that you weren’t going to have to actively try to hide her face, she would want to do that herself.
Your bags were already taken care of, there wasn’t anything else you needed to grab from the car other than your child and yourself. Everything else would be taken care of for you.
With another deep, dramatic breath, you hold your daughter close, allowing her to bury her face into your neck, and you circle the car like Yoongi had. Upon rounding the back, cameras that were already flashing began to flash faster, quicker. Wide eyed and stunned by the greeting of screams, you barely have time to process anything before Branson grabs your arm.
It’s a gentle tug, one to help keep you on track. He pulls you close to him, staying one step ahead of you as you wait for a couple of seconds in front of the car. Glancing amongst the crowd, it’s mainly full of paparazzi and probably some journalists. Behind the tall men and their cameras you can see the fans, the ones holding up their phones and jumping up and down trying to catch a glimpse at the commotion.
Airport security guards held some people back, though no one seemed to be trying to push through excessively, which was your main fear.
“Another minute here,” Branson said to you, leaning into your ear. “They need photos, then we go.” Nodding, you peek down at your girl who was content clinging to her mother and hiding from the chaos. A sound of admiration rips through the crowd as you stroke her back, one that surprises you.
Up ahead, close to the doors, Yoongi was walking backward slowly, watching you. His fans twisted their heads side to side, from him, to you, and back again. To spice things up a bit, he gives you a wave, and everyone goes nuts.
You can’t help but laugh at him, eyes crinkling at the sides. For some reason you had thought he’d treat you differently when you were outside, but aside from following the rules, he was still your husband. He points to the baby on your chest and questions you with a thumbs up. Another giant ‘Awh!’ rolls through the chattering crowd.
Sending a thumbs up back, the fans laugh, and cheer. Then, your heart plummets to your stomach.
From somewhere within the crowd your name is shouted. And then again. Before you knew it, the entire crowd wanted your attention. Overwhelmed, feeling utterly insane, your eyes well up with tears. You're unable to make out anything else they’re saying though, there were too many people talking at once, and to you, that was a good thing.
God forbid anybody had anything bad to say. You’ve heard it before, but you don’t need to live it in real time.
“Holy shit,” you mumbled. Branson leans into you again, questioning what you’ve said. Turning to him, you smile and repeat, “Holy shit!”
“You’re okay?” he asked, gently putting a hand over your shoulder blade.
“I- I think so?” you said to him, raising your voice over the crowd that was only getting louder. Glancing down to your daughter who’s little fists were attempting to rip holes in your sweater, you send a look to Yoongi, and he stops walking all together. Bundled up in the safety of her mothers arms wasn’t enough for the baby, she needed to be out of this situation immediately. “Branson we have to go.”
“I don’t have the signal yet, we need Yoongi inside before we move forward,” he said. Frowning, you knew the man was just doing his job, but a cry from your daughter flipped a switch within you.
“We need to go,” you insisted, shooting him a glare. Cradling the back of her head, you press your masked lips to her hair and take a deep breath, hoping she’d feel as much of your love as possible.
“Go! Get him inside,” Branson spoke into the tiny walkie he carried on his chest, gesturing toward the door with persistence.
The crowd, now roaring, and growing larger, began to push. The barriers that were blocked by guards were spilling over the edge.
Branson placed a hand to the top of your shoulder and held onto you tight. Grabbing the little speaker, he spoke clearer. “We need to move forward, and we cannot do that if you cannot get him indoors.”
Up ahead your husband was watching you with a heated gaze. His attention didn’t deter from you once. His heart twisted when you cradled your daughter, when he saw Branson begin to get defensive. The hand that was placed protectively on your shoulder could make him scream, and the team behind him, calling after him to get him to step inside the airport made his thoughts fuzzy.
What the hell was he doing? Why would he ever allow the two of you, the most important people in his life, why would he allow you to do it alone? This was the very first time you’ve done this, and he’s realized now that he’s made the biggest mistake.
Forgetting everything he was told, everything he’s learned, Yoongi bounds toward you, using the fast paced walk that his fans clown him for. They absolutely lose their minds, the people around you.
Wide eyed and shocked, you’d never think he’d break the rules on this one, you sigh in relief when he reaches your side. An arm wraps around your shoulder, Yoongi closing you in front of his chest.
“What are you doing?” you asked, giving your head a small shake.
Your husband smiles, reaching up to pull his mask off of his face, removing yours as well.
“Not letting you do it alone,” he said to you, leaning in to press a kiss to your lips. As you could’ve guessed, the collective lost their minds.
“You’re gonna get in trouble,” you smiled up at him, laughing as he dramatically rolled his eyes.
“You two are always worth it,” he said. “Now, c’mon,” he stepped aside to hold you behind your back, keeping you tucked beneath his arm. Using his other hand he rubbed the baby’s back and gave her cheek a quick kiss, happy to find that once he joined you two she had calmed down. “Let’s go see Kookie.”
Her head shot right up with enormous dark eyes full of stars. “Koo-hee?!”
“Koo-hee!” Both you and Yoongi copy her tiny voice, making her giggle with the silly smiles you flash at her.
The world around you seemed to melt away the second you were in your husband's arms, like all of a sudden you had the strength to handle anything the world would have thrown at you. His grip around your body as he walked with you into the airport was enough to silence the crowd, and power your legs to get through the doors without an incident.
A mere twenty minutes later, the three of you were seated on the plane, your daughter snoozing soundly on her fathers chest while you scrolled through your phone, curious to see what the internet has had to say of your appearance already. Resting his head on your shoulder, Yoongi followed along, making a sweet comment at every single photo of you.
“Oh, that one is the best,” he said quietly, your Twitter scroll stopping on a picture of the three of you before you walked off. The big, genuine, happy smiles you and Yoongi wore were priceless as you grinned at your baby girl, one whose face didn’t make it into any photos- thank the good Lord that somebody believes in. “You should post that one.”
Giving him a sideways glance, you huff a gentle laugh. “To my Instagram? It’s just gone public, you want me to blow it up even more?”
Yoongi tips his chin up, flashing you pouty puppy dog eyes. “I just want them all to know you’re mine. Both of you. I want everyone to know I’m yours, and I always have been.” You gave his forehead a kiss.
“Okay,” you nodded, “I’ll post it. Her face isn’t in any of these, so I can post as many as I want.”
Settling comfortably on your shoulder once again, Yoongi gave you caption advice for the post- an emoji that seemingly had nothing to do with the photo… But, you used it anyway. The angel emoji, with a halo and little wings.
“That one’s perfect,” he whispered, tapping on it for you.
“If you say so,” you smiled. Yoongi sat up a bit, carefully to not disturb his sleeping daughter. “You always pick the random ones.”
“Every single one I use means something,” Yoongi gazed at you fiercely. “That little guy,” he pointed to the angel, “That makes four of us.”
Your lips parted in surprise, unsure of what to say. That week in December devastated you both. Your stomach flips while you watch him study your face. The whirlwind life you live hasn’t given either of you proper time to process, or grieve.
“Baby,” he whispered, closing the space between you to touch his forehead to yours. “You don’t have to post it if you don’t want to.”
Sucking in a deep breath, your eyes welling with tears, you furrow your brows. “What did I do wrong,” escaped you in an exasperated gust of air. Yoongi shifted, wrapping an arm around your back.
“No,” he said, putting on his strong facade. “We don’t do that, we’ve talked about this. You know there wasn’t anything you did wrong. There wasn’t anything I did wrong. You heard the doctor say it, baby, multiple times. You gave him the perfect home, you’re healthy.” Yoongi paused to gauge where you were, praying that you were listening to him.
You respond after a few seconds, bobbing your head. Taking a deep breath, Yoongi swallows down the lump in his throat.
“It just wasn’t his time,” he whispered. “He wasn’t ready.”
“Yeah,” you whispered fast. Yoongi’s thumb found your cheek, wiping away the tears that had fallen.
“And, you remember the last time we were there, they said we could try again whenever we were ready,” he said. The end of last month you had a check-up with your doctor, just to make sure things were back to normal, and that your body was holding up alright. Your second pregnancy was a surprise, much like the first, you and Yoongi haven’t seemed to learn your lesson. However, losing your son before you had even gotten the chance to hold him in your arms put a lot of things into perspective for the two of you.
There were routine check-ups, you were eating better- both of you! This second child was something that you and your husband both wanted, and though each of your emotions have been through the wringer… You would be willing to try again when you felt like you could handle it.
“I want to,” you whispered. Yoongi smiled, but you could see his own worries within it. “I know, I feel the same way.”
“Together,” he cuts off the nervousness quickly. “We’ll do it together.”
“Uh, we kinda have to,” you giggled, making him laugh.
“I can’t wait,” he sing-songed through clenched teeth with a grin, stealing a kiss from you. Yoongi backs away from you to check on your sleeping daughter who hasn’t made a peep. He was surprised she had let her eyes shut while she was beside the window, normally she’d be gazing out at the clouds passing by.
Picking your phone up off of your lap, you smile at the angel emoji and click post, letting the notifications flood in like wildfire. This was all brand new. You were allowed to make your Instagram public about a week ago, and since then you’ve reached four million followers, while you used to have forty-six. Silencing the notifications from the app, every photo you’ve ever posted amassed an incredible amount of likes. Your feed was a feast, and the public was hungry.
Four million followers and counting. The number was only going to get bigger.
Watching the photo gain twenty thousand likes whenever you refreshed the page, you nudged Yoongi’s shoulder to show him what was happening, and when he turned his head to look, an unknown number you’ve never seen before popped onto your screen, calling you.
“What the…” you mumbled, narrowing your eyes.
Yoongi snatched the phone from your hand and quickly snapped a photo of the screen with his own, then he silenced yours and went into it, blocking the number who tried to reach you. He called Branson over and showed him the photo, letting the head of security take his phone with him.
“Trace this, or, do something. Tell me who's number this is,” his voice is stern, on alert.
“I’m sure it’s nothing,” you said, laying your head down on his shoulder. “People get scam calls all the time.”
“Not us,” he said, tone flat.
Not even ten minutes passed before Branson came back, kneeling on the row of chairs in front of your family. He placed his elbows on the head rests and took a deep breath, darting his eyes back and forth from Yoongi to yours.
“Well?” Yoongi asked. Branson handed him his phone and frowned.
“Uh,” he stumbled over a few words, unsure of how to say what he needed to say. “We, um… The phone number belongs to your mother.” His voice is hushed, quiet, like he was afraid to tell you, when in actuality he was afraid to tell Yoongi. Touchy subject. Especially now.
There had been a restraining order set in place since the day after your daughter's first birthday. Yoongi held the meetings and took care of everything, all you had to do was sign.
Neither one of your parents were allowed to contact you, speak to you or your daughter, or try to see you in person. They were not allowed to mail anything to you, send anyone to see you in place of themselves, nor were they allowed to be in touch with anyone close to you. Sunny included. You had to make a list.
Expecting him to jump out of his seat, you stretch a hand over his lap and grab his other hand, the one on your daughter's back. Sitting up, you turn toward him ever so slightly to catch a glimpse of his expression. It had not faltered. He was stone faced, and you were sick to your stomach.
“Sue her,” he said. Turning to you, he sighed. “We’re changing your number again.”
“D, come on, it’s not like-”
“I don’t care,” he said, peering down to admire his daughter. “She clearly hasn’t gotten the message that you don’t want anything to do with her.” He pointed his focus back to Branson. “Fight it. Do what you can.”
“Got it,” the guard said, and whisked himself away.
It’s quiet for a moment before Yoongi said, “Why are you defending her?”
“I’m not defending her,” you said, and he raised a brow, giving you a funny look. “It’s just… Super annoying to give everyone a new phone number for the third time.” Both your lips turn up into a smile. “Sue the bitch, I don’t care, D.” Yoongi laughs. “Just don’t make me change my number again, I beg of you.”
“Alright,” he said. “No new number. BUT!” His raised volume made your daughter stir. “One more thing happens, you’re changing it.” The little one lifted her head, blinking a few times before she grinned at her father.
“Fine,” you whispered, not that he was paying attention anymore anyway. Your daughter took his full focus, and all of his kisses.
It seemed silly to just now realize that today was something of a confirmation of the last eight years. Living your life, being a secret to millions of others, while you and the people you cared most about knew, was nice, and secure, and peaceful. But, now… Now that everyone knew, the peace grew. It swallowed you whole, engulfing you and your family with stability and ease.
No more accidental reveals. No more false stories. No more rumors the company had to shut down. No more hiding.
You were absolutely free, and for now, that was everything.
thank you for reading, I hope you’ve enjoyed this piece!
feedback is always greatly appreciated & helps artists immensely. we also all love messages & the audience’s input, opinions, and ideas.
leave me some here! <3
support my art here! <3
vegas tags <3 (i realize on the last post i missed some of you, i'm so sorry.) <3
@jewelrnicorn @yoongisducky @all-american-fangirl @funkylittlebisexuall @ahewlett @damn-u-min-yoongi @my-dark-happy-place
#yoongi#bangtan#dad!bts#dad suga#dad bts#dad yoongi#baby daddy#yoongi fic#yoongi smut#yoongi x reader#yoongi x y/n#yoongi x you#yoongi x oc#bts x you#bts fanfic#bts#bts x reader#min yoongi fic#min yoongi imagine#vegas#yellow#vegas series mini#vegas baby#dad!bts x reader#suga bts#suga imagine#suga x you#min suga#suga fic#agust d
482 notes
·
View notes
Text
coffee in the morning - yoongi
(WARNING! smut ahead :>)
You felt him still as you wrapped your arms around his waist.
"Yoongi," You mumbled, voice verging on a plead as you pushed your face into the center of his back, breathing in his scent.
He smelt of pine and smoke, something earthy and so easy to touch. Something entirely yours. Yoongi breathed out slowly, setting down his coffee mug down on the countertop in front of him before he reached a long arm back, casually sliding his palm down your back and to your ass.
"Again?"
You felt your cheeks warm and squeezed his frame in your embrace, hiding behind him so he couldn't see the embarrassment plastered all over your face for wanting him so badly.
You couldn't bare to answer, sliding your hand instead down his torso and prying it between the fly of his pants and the counter. Yoongi's hips hitched forward, bucking into your soft palm instinctively. You squeezed his member through the thin material of his pants, pressing a quick kiss to his shoulder blade.
"Please?" You begged, freezing when he turned in a fluid motion, switching places with you so you were the one pressed into the countertop of the kitchen you shared, hips flush against the edge as he pressed his growing erection into your ass.
A delicate hand swept the hair off of your back and over one shoulder, exposing the other so he could kiss his way up to your ear, "You know you don't have to feel embarrassed, right? It's good that you want your boyfriend to fuck you so often, flattering even."
"You don't think I'm needy?" You asked quietly, lips parting as he thrust against the flesh of your ass in a slow, deliberate pace.
His hand flicked his coffee further away and pushed down on your back with a flat palm between your shoulder blades, making you bend over the counter lewdly.
"Oh, I think you're needy," He teased. "I just also happen to like taking care of you."
You moaned shamelessly and any embarrassment you felt flew away as he shoved your underwear down your thighs, leaving it dangling around your ankles as he did the same to his own pants.
And to think- just a few minutes ago you had been asleep. Now you were burning awake, a red hot flame ignited in your belly as his fingers trailed through the folds of your pussy lazily.
"You're already soaked- did you dream about me?" Yoongi taunted, "Or is this from last night? You think my cum is still in you?"
He plunged his fingers into you quickly, purposefully, as if to test his theory. You said nothing- unable to formulate a response other than broken moans and desperate whines.
You were still sensitive from how hard he fucked you last night but it didn't matter, you pushed back against his fingers anyway and complained when he pulled them out. Yoongi slapped your ass in retaliation, shutting you up effectively before pushing the head of his cock into you to replace them.
"That's it- take my cock. Such a good girl for me," Yoongi groaned, "Is that better?"
"S-So much better," you stuttered, "You always make me feel so good. Yoongi- fuck."
You could tell he was smirking even though you couldn't see him, just felt his hand push the hem of your shirt up and slip underneath it.
His fingers, calloused from playing the piano and the guitar, pressing into your skin, pawing at your breasts and squeezing the sensitive nubs of your nipples.
You pressed your hands against the counter to stabilize yourself as Yoongi's hips slammed against you harder, losing yourself in the way that he touched you. Yoongi teetered on the edge of entitlement and exploratory, something nearing worship of your physical form you had only just begun to feel familiar with.
He started to move roughly, your own hips snapping back to meet his in a way that made your skin slap together audibly. The two you were rough- animalistic even, sloppy and uncalculated as the two do you indulged in each other's bodies.
You felt selfish- demanding that Yoongi fuck you into the dark hours of night and first thing when you woke up. You couldn't help it- you wanted him all the time, like a selfish cat in heat, perpetually horny and touch starved.
Who could blame you- it was Yoongi's fault for spoiling you.
He obliged to your ever desire, letting you pull him into bathroom stalls and tinted backseats of cars. He didn't mind being late for a meeting or losing a couple hours of sleep it if meant being with you like this for a little while.
"Good fucking girl," Yoongi grunted out, punctuating every word with a snap of his hips against yours, "Making me feel so good with you wet little pussy."
You closed your eyes and basked in it, feeling full and fucked open and exposed for him. It hurt- the stretch of his cock and the way his fingers dug into your skin and how tightly you were pressed against the sharp edge of the countertop- but the pain highlighted the pleasure and you felt yourself come undone around him, withering beneath Yoongi without warning.
You could feel that he was close too- the uneven pacing of his hips, the hiss he let out as you clenched around him. You shoved yourself upright, stretching an arm up and around his head so you could pull at his hair.
"Come on, Yoongi," You seethed, grinding your ass against him, "Cum in me, fill me up- I need it."
Yoongi bucked forward and warm heat followed, completely under your control as he spilled his cum inside of you. You sighed, feeling him twitch uncontrollably with aftershocks of his orgasm as his arms wound around your waist tightly.
"Fuck," He mumbled, pulling away from you after a moment.
You sighed and collapsed against the counter, cool marble pressing against your overheated cheeks. Yoongi's fingers trailed once again to your pussy, dragging through the cum dribbling out of you and pushing it back in with the tip of his middle finger, "I'll clean you up, just- give me a second."
You nodded silently, smiling as he stayed there, playing with you gently. You lost track of time and came on his fingers again before he remember he was supposed to be cleaning you up, making quick work of it once you had floated back down to earth.
He pulled your panties back over your hips and kissed your ass sweetly, helping you find your footing.
"Good morning," He said formally, pressing another kiss to the bridge of your nose. "Feel better?"
You nodded happily, a sweet smile on your face, "Loads."
Yoongi rolled his eyes playfully, a reluctant smile on his face as he leaned in, kissing you. You laughed, grabbing his coffee from where it sat, deserted. You took a sip and scrunched your nose instinctively, "This is cold."
"Well- it was hot fifteen minutes ago," Yoongi snarked, "Someone distracted me."
"Make a new batch- I want some too," You pouted, leaning your cheek against his chest.
"Try not to want me too bad in the meantime," Yoongi teased, squeezing your side before drifting off towards the coffee maker.
All you could do was laugh, trailing off behind him.
masterlist.
#bts drabble#bts timestamps#bts fic#bts smut#bts x you#yoongi x reader#yoongi imagine#yoongi x you#min yoongi imagine#yoongi fluff#yoongi fanfic#yoongi smut#yoongi fic
1K notes
·
View notes
Text
Kinktober '23: Virginity | Min Yoongi
Pairing: GN!Reader x Min Yoongi
Genre: Smut (minors DO NOT interact), Kinktober 2023
Summary: You finally tell Yoongi, the guy you probably shouldn't be fucking around with, that you're a virgin. Nothing could have prepared you for his reaction.
WC: 2.3k
Warnings: Reader is described having a vulva and breasts, but uses gender neutral pronouns, virginity loss (a dumb construct), unprotected sex, mentions of alcohol consumption, marijuana mention, fingering, Yoongi has a dirty mouth and a bit of a possessive streak, creampie, soft Yoongi
A/N: Here we go, kinktober day 1!! Hopefully yall like it, and forgive me if I fall behind schedule. Let me know if you'd like to be added to the taglist for my kinktober fics
Tags: @dragonofthenorth0726 // @wooyussy // @burningupp-replies // @bunnypig18 // @decaffedthoughts // @brownieracha // @ferrethyun // @snow-pegasus // @wonuqrtz // @mixling-blog
Main Masterlist
Kinktober '23 Masterlist
This fanfiction is property of @/coupsie-daisies, reposting on any other platform is prohibited
You felt ridiculous underneath Yoongi, the thought clouding your mind as you kissed him, as his hands pushed up your shirt to expose more of your stomach for him to touch. And the worst part was that you felt even more ridiculous for thinking about it so much.
You had been fooling around with Yoongi for a couple of weeks now. You'd met at a party one of your older friends had invited you to, and you knew Yoongi by reputation only. He was a bit of a fuckboy, he'd slept with plenty of people and made quite a name for himself as an 'experience'. It was actually a little terrifying the way people talked about him, like he was something everyone had to experience.
But he'd been kind when you'd met him, introduced by your friend Hoseok with a request to help keep an eye on you. You'd been offended, actually, at the implication that you couldn't look out for yourself. But having Hobi's friends around to keep an eye on you had actually been quite nice, eliminating the need to socialize with strangers and all that. Yoongi had kept a drink in your hand, though sometimes swapping it out for water when he'd decided you should slow down, and eventually you ended up sitting on a couch, sidled up to him as he smoked up with his friends.
The first time you kissed Yoongi he was high, and you were maybe a little more tipsy than you should have been. But it was the start of something great. You and Yoongi were friends, maybe not the closest of friends but he wasn't a stranger. You felt safe with him, and you could go to each other with your needs. Any needs. Which was how you ended up under him now, his fingers rubbing firm, fast circles against your aching clit.
"Yoongi, please," You whined. He smirked, and you cursed him silently because you really did understand why everyone was obsessing over his skills.
"Please what, pretty baby?" He asked, leaning down to kiss your throat, and you huffed.
"Please, wanna cum. That's what you came over for, right? To get me off, help me destress." You were being annoying, you were sure, but you didn't care in the least. You just wanted to get off, and Yoongi had promised to help you relax. But instead he had you winding so tight you thought your muscles would tear.
"Not gonna make you cum on my fingers, baby. You want to be fucked stupid, right? Don't wanna think anymore? Gonna make you all dumb on my cock instead."
His words sent a rush of arousal through you, wetness dripping out to slick onto his fingers. But even so, he stopped, feeling the way you tensed under him. His fingers were slower now, barely giving you anything as he pulled back and gave you a questioning look.
"You don't want that?" He asked. You and him had never gone that far, sticking to dry humping or going down on each other, sometimes he'd slide his fingers into you, but that was different.
"No! I mean, I do! It's just..." You squirmed, blinking away your building anxiety. Yoongi stopped entirely, sitting back to give you space to breathe, but the distance only made you feel naked, much more exposed than you would have liked.
"You know you can tell me. We communicate. I promised to take care of you, I'm still gonna do that." He promised you, and you fought off a small, surprised expression. You hadn't imagined he'd taken it that seriously back then, let alone now.
"I'm a virgin." You said finally, avoiding his eye. There was quiet, and you squirmed before Yoongi was towering over you, his hand gripping your chin to lift your gaze back to him.
"You've been letting me play with you all this time, and you just weren't gonna tell me that?" He asked, his thumb tracing over your lower lip. You could swear his gaze was only getting more intense, and you swallowed.
"It's embarrassing," You admitted. He huffed out a tiny laugh, his eyebrow quirking upwards in the way that always had you going a little bit feral.
"Embarrassing? What about me being able to ruin you for any other man is embarrassing, pretty thing?" He asked. You felt a quiet squeak slip past your lips. You quickly regained your confidence though, not wanting to give him the upper hand.
"So you wouldn't be able to ruin me for anyone else if I'd already slept with another person? Good to know," You teased, lips curling into a troublesome grin. He rolled his eyes, tongue poking at the inside of his cheek. Then his lips were pressed to the sensitive spot just under your ear, his tongue dragging over it before sucking hard. Your body pressed closer towards his, rolling into the warmth that washed over you.
"Oh, baby, I already have." He whispered, his attention trailing further down your neck, leaving tiny bruises that you knew would bloom bright overnight. Your fingers laced through his hair, tugging lightly as a silent plea for him to leave his teasing and move on. He groaned quietly, not seeming to want to wait either.
He sat back, taking a minute to admire you as if he hadn't seen you laying naked beneath him more times than he could count on one hand. You felt a new wave of arousal rush through you under his attention. His hands brushed your stomach, sliding up to cup your tits, thumbs brushing in feather-light touches over your nipples as if he would hurt you if he touched them too firmly. You released a breathy moan, your eyes shutting as you basked in the attention.
"Gonna make you feel so good." He said, quietly enough that it was almost like he was talking to himself, but you knew better with the way his hands lowered down to knead at your thighs, feeling the soft plush flesh under his fingertips before pushing them wider apart.
You were entirely exposed to him, and even though he'd touched you just a little while earlier, this felt so much more intimate. His fingers slid easily through the wetness leaking from your hole, teasing you with slow, careful touches before sliding two into you, scissoring them and curling them carefully. His eyebrows were furrowed as he focused on the slide of his fingers inside your pussy, his tongue poking against his bottom lip. The attention had you hot all over and you squirming which only forced his fingers to prod a little harder against that spot you loved. You keened, his name on the tip of your tongue but coming out instead as a long whine.
"Please, need you. Don't wanna wait anymore. Waited forever." You huffed. He smiled, a genuine, brilliant smile as his thumb flicked over your clit. And then, finally he was pulling his hand away, maneuvering the two of you with gentle touches until he was settled between your legs, the tip of his cock nudging against your folds.
"Say it again," He requested, the head of his aching length running teasing circles around your clit. "Say you need me, tell me how bad."
"Yoongi," You huffed, and he dipped his cock ever so slightly between your swollen pussy lips, laying enough pressure over your entrance to make you choke on your complaints. Any shame or frustration gave way to pure desperation to feel more of him, to be full of him, surrounded by him. "Please, I need you. Need you so bad I could cry, want you to be my first, want you to take me."
Your words made him hiss, his hips pressing carefully forward, nudging his cock into you inch by inch. You tipped your head back against the pillows, your back arching off the bed and pushing you closer to him, needing more of him, needing him closer. One of your hands scrambled to find his waist, pulling him down closer to you. He didn't hesitate to give in, lowering himself until your chests were pressed together, his face tucked into the crook of your neck and his hips continuing their slow, steady roll against yours. It was another few moments before he was fully sheathed in your tight, wet warmth. His weight rested on his forearm beside you, his other hand gripping at your hip, thumb tracing over the curve there.
"Feel so fucking perfect wrapped around me, shit," He grumbled, voice muffled against your skin, but you heard them all the same, your walls fluttering around him as you tried to get used to the feeling of having him inside of you. He was definitely hitting places you'd never felt before, stretching you out more than his fingers ever had and making the fire in the pit of your stomach burn hotter, the flames consuming you and turning your inhibitions to ash.
"I need more. Fuck me, baby, please. Can take it." You begged, your fingers stroking through his hair again. He shifted, the movement pulling him out of you, and you almost sobbed when he rolled his hips back to draw most of the way out before sliding back in with ease. The rolling thrusts of his hips were slow, easy, and you melted into them. You tugged at his hair with one hand, the other dragging your nails against his waist, pulling him impossibly closer until you were breathing him in.
"Can't believe I haven't done this yet." He mumbled, sucking at your shoulder until a pretty little mark was left in his wake. "You're fucking made for me, built for my dick. Never gonna let you go. All mine, gonna take such good care of you."
He was almost as fucked as you were, his breath coming out in pants as his hips sped up. He slid his hand down, pulling your thigh up to wrap around his hips, drilling himself even deeper and groaning when you moaned his name, tightening around him.
"There," You managed to gasp, and Yoongi shifted, giving himself a little more leverage to speed up, fucking against the spot that had made you react so perfectly for him. He wondered under the fog of his mind if you'd ever felt it before, if your fingers could reach it, if you had been waiting for him to find it. Or maybe, he hoped as he reached down to swirl his fingers around your clit, maybe you would only associate it with him. The spot that he hit just right, the spot that he could find with ease.
"Choking me," He hissed out, never easing up. Your legs tightened around his hips, and your walls sucked him in like every pullback of his cock was a loss you couldn't stomach. You were close, he knew that reaction, knew those sounds like the back of his hand and he was determined to feel you cum on his dick. "Go on, pretty, let go for me. I know you're almost there, you can let go."
His words were soft, sweet, washing over your like ocean waves and dragging you down into your orgasm, air ripping from your lungs as you released around him. You trembled, your hips grinding up to meet his desperate movements, and his movement slowed down to ease you through it.
His movements didn't stop even as you came down, and it was hard to say if he was urging you towards a second one or if he was just too transfixed by the feeling of your walls finally wrapping around him like they'd been waiting for him to slide into you.
"Want you to cum too," You said, the hand in his hair moving to guide his lips towards you, pulling him into a kiss. The taste of him on your lips was like a drug, his tongue slipping past your lips to map out your mouth and his teeth dragging against your lip, not hard enough to be considered a bite, but certainly enough for you to know he could. It didn't take anything more than the kiss to push him over the edge, his groan getting lost in the press of your lips, and his hips pressing flush into yours as he spilled into you.
The kiss slowed, still hungry and desperate, but languid now as if he were savoring the moment of you two pressed so close together. Once he was out of breath, he pulled away, nuzzling into your neck and dragging you as close as he possibly could given your position. He rolled you onto your side with him so the two of you were tangled together, his softening cock finally slipping out of you and his leg trapping yours between his own.
"How was it?" He asked after a few moments of stroking his fingertips against your waist. You kept your eyes closed, basking in his attention and letting a smile curl on your lips.
"It was perfect." You said, pressing closer so he couldn't see the way your smile grew.
"Only the best for my darling." He said, tipping your chin up to kiss you again. You smiled against his lips before pulling away a bit. He followed your lips, and you giggled.
"Yours, huh?" You asked, fingertips drumming against his bare chest.
"I want you to be. Always have. Now more than ever. don't want anyone else to have you like I do." He confessed without hesitation, and the sincerity in his voice genuinely surprised you. Your teasing gaze softened, and you kissed him once more.
"Nobody will. They couldn't even if they wanted to. I'm all yours."
copyright 2023 coupsie-daisies, all rights reserved
#min yoongi x reader#yoongi x reader#suga x reader#agust d x reader#bts x reader#min yoongi fanfic#yoongi fanfic#suga fanfic#agust d fanfic#bts fanfic#min yoongi imagine#yoongi imagine#suga imagine#agust d imagine#bts imagine#bts reader insert#min yoongi reader insert#suga reader insert#agust d reader insert#reader insert#kpop reader insert#kpop x reader#fanfiction#reader insert fanfiction#x reader fanfiction#fanfic#reader insert fanfic#x reader fanfic#min yoongi fanfiction#bts fanfiction
277 notes
·
View notes
Note
Hi, could you do a drabble where your boyfriend Yoongi has to constantly compete against your cat for your affection/attention
SOFT YOONGI HOURS!!!!!!!! i loved this idea so, so much. poor pouty baby :(
Contrary to what Yoongi seemed to think, you could feel him glaring. Not at you — the only other person present — but at the heap of long, grey fur stretched out over your torso and extended legs. Sprawled out across that oversized armchair, your feet swung idly below your knees as they hinged over the plush fabric of the chair’s arm.
A picture of perfect coziness; so blatantly contrary to your boyfriend’s rigid posture on the adjacent couch.
He also failed to notice the way your gaze would flicker from the screen ahead to the periphery — to him and his subtly narrowed eyes. You’d had your suspicions for months now, ever since you moved in together, but his stony expression then was the clearest he’d ever made it:
Min Yoongi was jealous of a cat. And, brat that you were, you seized the opportunity to tease him for it.
Fingers stroking gently down Michiru’s back, you smirked to yourself and turned your attention back to the television. She was a puddle on your chest, melting further and further into purrs until her yellow orbs drooped into blissed-out crescent moons.
“Are you tired, baby?” You hummed as you continued your ministrations. Eyes still purposefully fixed on Alley Restaurant, you created the pitfall for Yoongi to fall in. “Should we go to bed?”
Oblivious to your scheme, in a voice so tiny that your nonchalant mask nearly cracked, Yoongi peeped, “Yes, please.”
“Hmm?” You turned to him as if his response was a surprise. Like you’d forgotten he was there. Then, laying it on thick, you giggled, “Oh, I was talking to Michiru-sama. She looks exhausted, doesn’t she?”
Mouth pulling outwards in a straight line, Yoongi’s displeasure came out as a wordless grunt. It took all your restraint not to laugh at his very poorly hidden pout. Swallowing it down, you pursed your lips tight and looked away before he could catch on.
That poor boy always tried so, so hard to pretend like affection was something he merely — occasionally — tolerated. Like he didn’t want to be the one half-asleep in your lap, with your fingertips rubbing slow circles into his scalp. As if he was just shy of annoyed whenever you pounced on him and polka-dotted kisses over every millimeter of his grimacing face.
The truth was that Min Yoongi was soft. Sooner or later, you’d get him to admit it.
You sat in silence for a few minutes before he eventually stirred. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw him toss the knitted throw off his lap and make to stand. So, you figured, he’d thrown in the towel and was now going to be grumpy — alone — in bed. But then, you saw him fluff that discarded blanket into the shape of a circle.
One more harrumph and Yoongi was on his way to you.
Saying nothing, he gently scooped Michiru into his arms. She was too sleepy to react, opting instead to spill out slowly over his forearms like molasses. He ignored the way your eyes widened while your lap-warmer was extricated; and he continued to do so as he placed her into the little blanket bagel he’d crafted. There was an undeniable smugness on his face when she curled up and let her eyes drift shut again. Entirely unbothered.
And then he turned back to you.
“What are you —?” You squeaked out a laugh as his arms hooked under your bent knees and back. Just as carefully as he’d lifted Michiru, Yoongi pulled you off the armchair. He held you just long enough to turn around and plop himself down in the space you were previously occupying with a satisfied sigh.
Wiggling until you were nestled comfortably against his chest, you looked up to find him gazing at the television instead of back at you. Still smirking, of course, pretending not to notice that there was a full-fledged human being in his lap.
You tugged gently at one of the strings dangling from his sweatshirt hood. When he didn’t so much as blink, you nudged, “Are we not going to acknowledge what’s happening here?”
“What’s that, love?” Yoongi asked, feigning surprise at your voice but still not looking, “Or are you talking to my adversary again?”
You furrowed your brow, lifted your hand from your lap, and poked his cheek lightly with your index finger. “I’m talking to my boyfriend about the turf war he’s waging with our pet.”
“I’m not waging a war, baby,” Yoongi corrected you softly. Finally, he tilted his head downward to kiss your forehead. You could feel his lips curve into a smile as they hovered over your skin, “I obviously just won it.”
#jade's requests#jade's drabbles#anon#myg#re: the one with yoongi the cat and the turf war#min yoongi#yoongi#bts yoongi#bts min yoongi#bts drabble#bts fluff#bts scenarios#bts imagine#min yoongi drabble#min yoongi fluff#min yoongi scenarios#min yoongi imagine#min yoongi x you#min yoongi x y/n#min yoongi x reader#yoongi drabble#yoongi fluff#yoongi scenarios#yoongi imagine#yoongi x you#yoongi x y/n#yoongi x reader#bts
967 notes
·
View notes
Text
Stress Relief ~ MYG [M]
WORD COUNT: 1.1K
GENRE: SMUT MINORS DNI YOU WILL BE BLOCKED! Established relationships, soft Yoongi having a bad day (This was supposed to go out back in October but I'd gotten this mixed with another member)
WARNINGS: smut, cursing, unprotected sex, free use kink (all consensual between partners!) small praise, “pretty little slut”
PAIRING: Yoongi x Fem!Reader
⤜Copyright: © DreamEscapesWriting - January 2024
⤜MASTERLIST
You woke up to the feel of the bed shifting behind you before your neck was pampered with soft kisses, Yoongi’s hands ran over your body gently as he pulled you closer to him. You could tell just from the energy in the room that he was a little stressed out about something but before you could ask if everything was already Yoongi had already started speaking,
“Want you,” Yoongi grunted like a caveman as he began rolling up the nightshirt that you were sporting, your whole body burning as you let out a tiny giggle. The two of you had spoken a few weeks ago about a kink you wanted to explore and Yoongi was more than happy to indulge in it.
In fact, it had been something the two of you took great joy in and Yoongi took full advantage of the opportunity whenever he could and each of you enjoyed it more than the other. You had no idea why but being "free use" for Yoongi made you giddy with excitement, not knowing when it was going to happen but being ready for him made it all exciting. Not to mention you were doing it with someone you trusted more than anyone else in the world, you had safe words and actions implemented in case either of you ever needed an out.
"Bad day?" You quizzed, it was already morning which meant Yoongi had more than likely been struggling at work all night long and was coming to use you to let his frustration out and the thought of that had you dripping for him.
"Don't want to talk about that," He mumbled as he began to pull himself free of his boxers, needily grinding himself against your ass like a dog in heat.
"Need you," He whined out, not caring about how he sounded at that moment in time, all he cared about was getting to feel his girlfriend around him something he'd been craving for hours.
"You're so whiney baby, you want me to take control?" You teased before he pushed you forward slightly, bending you down while you were laid on your side.
"I want you to shut up and take my cock like the good little slut you are," Yoongi hooks his fingers on the waistband of your panties and pushes them down before throwing them behind him,
"God, you're so fucking hot." He groaned, a small and gentle slap landing on your left asscheek making you squeal out in surprise. Yoongi smirked to himself he'd been thinking of this all night, coming home and getting to use his pretty girlfriend to his heart's content.
Yoongi pumped his length in his hand, grunting a little as he twitched he'd been needing you for hours now and he wasn't going to waste any more time so he pushed the head of his cock into you. Your whimper cut through the silence of your bedroom as Yoongi smirked. God, he always loved hearing you whimper like that for him, all for him too. You were his dream girl and he was lucky he got you when he did and he wasn't going to be a fool to let you go ever.
"Always so ready for me aren't you, baby girl?" He asked, reaching down and rubbing your clit with his thumb a curse word falling from your lips as you began bobbing your head up and down currently doing your best to buck your hips back to him. Desperate for more of him than just the tip that he was giving to you, but he tutted at you slapping your left asscheek gently once again,
"Now who's the needy one?" He grunts, pushing into you at an agonisingly slow pace as you let out a whine of his name, your pussy clenching around him as he let out a moan. It didn't matter how many times the two of you had sex it was always the perfect fit for him, he let himself revel in the feel of you as he let his hands roam over your breasts rubbing them softly.
"You always feel so good around me," He hummed in your ear before gently placing a kiss on your temple. As much as you adored when Yoongi was gentle and sweet with you, you needed an orgasm as much as he did and you needed him to move,
"F-Faster," You hissed out, even though Yoongi was supposed to be the one in control he wasn't going to ignore an order from his girl,
"Fcuk, Yoongi, feels so fucking good," You moaned out as he began to move in and out of you at an erratic pace, your eyes practically rolling to the back of your head,
"You like my cock baby?" He groans, thrusting harder into you as he holds onto your hips, skin slapping and filling the air as you cry his name out.
"You take it so fucking well don't you, my dirty little slut." He grunts as he looks down at you, his cock twitching as he tried to fight off the orgasm that was welling up inside of him but he could feel you. He could feel just how close you were from the way you tightened around him and the way your moans got quieter.
"Please...Please let me cum," You cried out, begging for your own release as he let out a growl. His hips slammed harder into you as he heard you begging for your own release.
"Cum on my cock," His fingers find your clit as he begins to rub small circles against it, your head rolling back against his chest rocking your hips in time with his.
"S-Shit! Shit!" You screamed out, your legs feeling like jelly as the tightness inside of your stomach snapped and you came around him. Hips bucking back as your whole body twitched, sending Yoongi over the edge right after you.
"I love you," He panted, pulling his cock free from you and looking down between your legs smirking proudly of himself.
"You're so pretty when you're stuffed full of my cum," He grunted, getting up from the bed and going to find a wet cloth to clean you up with.
"Want me to make some coffee and we can talk about work?" You quizzed as Yoongi sat between your legs, taking his time to gently clean you up as he shook his head at you.
"No, but stay in bed a little longer with me? I just want to cuddle you," He begged as you nodded, quickly making your way to the toilet before heading back to bed with him.
Tagline: @chiisaiblog @sw33tnight @kaitieskidmore97 @laylasbunbunny @tinyoonsblog @whitefoxgirl @katnisspeetaprim @acciocriativity @wolfgurl2600 @choisoorin @heyjiminnie @btsiguess-kpop @alicejustwakeup @halesandy @gothic4under4lord @soulphoenix1618 @aerastus @jin-from-the-block @lenfilms @elizaschuyler18 @whitefoxgirl
#bts#bts x reader#bts imagine#bts imagines#bts smut#min yoongi#yoongi#yoongi x reader#yoongi imagine#yoongi imagines#yoongi smut#min yoongi x reader#min yoongi imagine#min yoongi imagines#min yoongi smut#dreamescapeswriting
1K notes
·
View notes
Text
fail-safe (2)
pairing: yoongi x reader
wordcount: 8k
glimpse: yoongi got everything he ever wanted and you've heard nothing about it, so you're thankful.
alternatively, yoongi reminds you of home in more ways than one.
[ part one, intermission, part two, intermission 02, finale ]
[ a Lot of angst, brother's best friend AND single dad au, eventual fluff, a lot of yearning but For What, they reunite but at what cost rlly, jealousy, self-loathing, unrequited love (initial), deja vu but in the worst possible form, eventual redemption in the next parts ]
notes: i am So sorry for this .
as always, lmk what you think <3 send in feedback n love to my askbox anytime!! even reading ur thoughts in the tags give me life :) | series masterlist
FIVE YEARS LATER
The trip back home wasn’t as rough as Yoongi expected it to be.
Somehow, there’s a huge difference between sitting in economy seats versus first-class seats, even if they’re situated on the same aircraft. When he left, Yoongi was irritable (amongst other things) to keep bumping elbows with everyone else; now that he’s back, he almost misses the ruckus in the cabin that’s far too cramped for everyone who could afford it.
Yoongi used to hate people like himself — atleast the version that he is now. He hated bastards sitting upfront in seats that reclined all the way back and ate off plates instead of noisy, flimsy plastic containers. Back then, deep down to his very core, he wanted that lifestyle for himself. To become bigger and better than he could ever imagine for the life ahead of him was always the goal.
Now that he’s at the peak, maybe even being the peak himself, he feels weirdly homesick.
“You need to bundle up all the way, Haneul. They’re gonna scold me if you’re not covered from head to toe,” Yoongi playfully chides his son, the insecurity and nervousness underneath his tone flying right over his head. It’s not even that cold, but still, a huge part of Yoongi worries.
He worries everyday if he’s a good dad to his four-year old. He worries if he’s good enough to be a solo parent because after all, he’s the one who has main custody of Haneul anyway. He worries and worries, but there’s nothing quite like the trepidation he feels being back home with everyone who has ever known him prior to all this success, suddenly seeing him come home.
It should be the opposite way around, that’s what everyone says to him. Yoongi had been queasy the whole flight back home despite the flight being one of the smoothest trips he’s ever been on in his life. He’s nervous to be back where he had been born and raised and he doesn’t know what’s that supposed to mean, except for the fact that he has an inkling of what the weight in his chest pertains to.
He’s back because it’s your mother’s 60th birthday. He’s back because her and Namjoon had asked him to, and he obliged without even thinking about it. Yoongi had offered numerous times to throw a party for the woman who had practically raised him alongside his closest friend, and even if Namjoon had backed him up on the grand idea for such a large milestone, she said no. All she wanted was for everyone to be back home, and Yoongi couldn’t say no.
Neither could you.
Yoongi is not the most modest person alive, but he is at his humblest when he drives the long way home just to delay the inevitable. He’s happy to the point he could be sick. He can’t tell if it’s the joy or the anxiety in his chest that makes it tighten, almost unbearably so, that he makes Haneul reach up to his forehead to check if he has a fever.
Yoongi’s home.
Not Los Angeles home, and not New York home. Not his home with a closet that’s the size of his childhood house’s living room, and not his space with the big windows and concierge downstairs.
Yoongi’s home — where the streets are narrow and the stairs are creaky; where this time, it’s all of him and none of you.
.
.
.
Enduring is different than working.
You’ve realized that the two concepts are drastically different as soon as Yoongi left, leaving you to survive the remaining years of your degree before you had to face the reality that you had to work to the bone for the rest of your life if you wanted a shot at living an average, food-stocked-in-the-fridge kind of life.
You didn’t know anyone who was connected to someone of importance one way or another, your family had zero ties, and you graduated from a university that raised more eyebrows in confusion than it tilted heads in awe. Your degree does havehigh promises as far as everyone in your town was concerned — it does and it should be, if only you were born and raised in different circumstances.
There’s not one acclaimed and high-profit company that would ever accept the likes of you. You worked hard and even if there were no exchange student agreements and Latin honors to show for it, you really did. You gave your best to graduate with a degree you never really liked and was only forced upon you, all for the promise of a future. It didn’t matter if it was extremely good or bad — everyone else just said you had to have one.
Your misfortune is what it is. It’s empty and haunting and the two weeks you had spent in the city right after graduating is truly something you never want to relive.
In hindsight, gambling the rest of your pocket money on a bus fare in your last day of job-hunting in the city at the time was a stupid decision. It was impulsive and irresponsible and everything your family scolded you for, what Yoongi hated you for, but it ended up being the single best gamble you’ve ever made, even above entry-level lottery tickets.
The same circumstances that held you back from where you’re supposed to head ended up propelling you to somewhere far, far different. Your degree became completely irrelevant, and the fact that you had nobody of significance in the city– no person to pass malice and gossip onto— made you a manager.
It had been a gamble to go work for an unknown entertainment company, much more a sinking one. It was an insult to have busted your ass back in your hometown, studying and working at the same time, only to work professionally in the city for a field that you didn’t even study about.
Your fate is what it is. You’ve endured and worked hard enough to the point that you had finally lucked out. Being the manager of someone who had later turned out to become the biggest actor in the industry, even in Hollywood, became your biggest break up to date.
Your way back home feels like an embrace you’ve denied yourself for far too long. You’ve mainly stayed in Seoul apart from the several hundred times you had to come with Jungkook for filming outside of the country, yet you could only count on one hand the amount of times you came home without anyone telling you to.
Coming home had become foreign to you as much as leaving it had become familiar.
“I’m near, Joon,” you hum to your phone, taking a quick glance at the cake you’ve strapped to your front seat. “It’s only us, right?”
“Yeah. Just us.”
Maybe it’s your fault for changing what us meant throughout the past five years, but Namjoon’s definition never changed. Maybe it’s your fault for not clarifying what he meant when you’re still kilometers away, when you can still leave, but nonetheless, you were cornered.
Us meant what it used to be when you were a kid in your childhood home — when Yoongi was still in the picture and you didn’t hate him for it.
In the grand scheme of things, you realize that Yoongi was right — nothing valuable was left for him in your hometown anymore. He was as right as you were wrong every time he went on a monologue of how he thinks there’s no problem in him admitting that he’s full of envy. He had been right for being bitter that there’s people who have and get much more than him, more than what they deserve, by not even putting a fourth of the effort that he does.
In the same way that he was right, you were wrong for thinking each time that Yoongi would soon outgrow his ambitions and instead, see things for what they are. You were wrong for thinking Yoongi would stoop down to your page, much less ever think of it.
Yoongi was right for saying that his stomach’s made of steel, and you were wrong for trying to convince him otherwise. He’s always had the appetite for more, the digestion of whatever life throws at him coming easy. Yoongi can choke down the reality of leaving Namjoon, your brother, who’s been buddies with him even before they could talk. He could forgo the only brother figure he’s ever had in his life if it means making something of himself.
He doesn’t get constipated from the reality of no longer having the homemade meals your mother would make that the younger, more innocent, and less ambitious version of him would literally jumps fences for. In fact, Yoongi’s palate craved something more foreign and sophisticated; not familiar, hearty meals served in dinnerware dulled from years of routine.
His stomach doesn’t turn thinking about how the skyline he said he’d never get tired of, wouldn’t appear in his new side of the world. The little, unassuming, and far too comfortable version of him who used to chase sunrises with his bike as a child and chase sunsets with his car as a teenager, doesn’t feel like he’d be poisoned if he were to see the sunlight in a high-rise instead of a run-down pavement.
Yoongi’s right when he said he had a tolerance because he doesn’t even get heartburn when you cry for him to no longer leave. You’re not in the position to beg him to stay (and you probably never will be) because as you’ve come to realize, he would only stay for the big things.
The only thing that would anchor Min Yoongi into place and dissuade him from chasing more is by being the most. One would have to be extremely significant, even bigger than Namjoon’s brotherhood, your mother’s impact, and what your hometown has to offer. You can’t even hold a candle to the aforementioned.
In Yoongi’s grand plan that’s as big as the galaxy, you’re merely a speck of dust that had the luck of hovering around him. You realized it back then when you blew over and fought with him right before his flight; right when Yoongi was clutching his one-way ticket, right when one foot was already out of the door.
“But the future that you want is not easy, Yoongi!” you gritted through your teeth, the grip you had on his suitcase too visceral that it bends under the pressure. Yoongi snatches his luggage from you in a blink, nostrils flaring in annoyance.
“Of course you’d be the first to say that,” he seethed, eyes wild and unforgiving. He drills his finger into his temple, inching towards you with an anger he had never shown before. “You don’t work as hard as I do, Y/N! You always settle. You always go for mediocre. You never put your head into anything because you’re too immature for any of this shit!”
“I’m not immature, you asshole!”
“Yes you are, you dipshit!” Yoongi scoffed, throwing his head back. “You cave and you bend and you let the whole world fuck you over, then you come running to me whining. You don’t have a passion in life, Y/N! You’re begging me to stay in the same predicament that you’re in now, what’s not immature about that?”
“When you leave now and decide to come back one day, Yoongi,” you spat with resentment, the tears that pour down your cheeks no longer out of sadness but instead, out of promise. “Nothing will ever be the same.”
“Good,” Yoongi clipped, turning his back on you for the last time. “Good for me.”
In the grand scheme of things, you realize that when Yoongi left five years ago, he also took the large chunk of your soul that had been shaped over and over again the entire time that he stood by you. He’d gotten his hands on the security and contentment you used to take pride in, weaponizing them against you.
You’re unsure if you have to thank him for that, the uncertainty being on par with the insecurity you had felt when he left you with his truth.
When you visit your mother for her birthday and see Yoongi emerge from your childhood bedroom, hand-in-hand with a toddler that looks like an exact carbon copy of him, you’re unsure of what to do either.
You’re not hysterical in the same way you stood before him when you even considered ripping up his plane ticket, but on the other hand, Yoongi’s inconsolable in the way he flounders before you.
“Y/N,” he says breathless, the lump in his throat even bigger than the tiny fist that grips his hand. “I… I-I didn’t-…” Yoongi tries again, his mouth dry at your appearance. “You came home.”
“I’m only visiting,” you answer, the curt smile on your face that Yoongi recognizes to be the one you’d give to strangers making his blood run cold. “I don’t plan on staying.”
.
.
.
You’re numb if that’s the word for it.
Your chest buzzes emptily the same way your fingers clench around nothing. You look at everywhere and everyone but Yoongi and his son. It’s nauseating to even think that everyone’s eating dinner as if everything’s okay; what’s even more sickening is that somehow, you’re willing to settle for it.
Yoongi is your mom’s cross-stitch project of a teddy bear that she hung up in your room one day when you were in school that you never took off by the time you came home. He’s a dent at the corner of your gate that could’ve only been made by Namjoon when he was practicing his soccer skills. He’s a Snellen chart that nobody really uses, stuck to the side of the refrigerator that you walk past.
Yoongi’s here, there, and everywhere, but you don’t question it. He’s simply there in your orbit and even if he exists, you don’t follow up on him.
You stay quiet at the talks of the sleeping situation because it turns out that Yoongi’s family had long sold their house. You never knew that throughout the several times you came down to visit.
Frankly, you’re relieved to barely know anything about Yoongi these days.
“You and Haneul can take my room,” you half-heartedly offer, not because it’s Yoongi who tugs at your heartstrings and demands your pity, but his child instead. The two, three (?) year-old baby (read: you’re too hesitant to ask what his age is because if it’s anything higher, then that meant Yoongi had moved on earlier than you did) you didn’t even know existed because you’ve completely cut off Yoongi from your life and refused to listen to Namjoon every time he talked about him, will be sleeping in your room; it just happens that he’s with his dad.
Yoongi’s awed at your preposition but he’s even more worried. He can’t tell a single thought that’s going on behind your eyes nor a single hint behind your tone. You’re formal; neutral. You’re detached even when you utter Haneul’s name and gesture them to your bedroom as if he hasn’t spent years and years of his life in your home.
“Where will you sleep?” he furrows his brows, his hand that had been rubbing circles on Haneul’s back faltering.
He’s asking because he doesn’t know anything about you at this point. He can’t tell if it’s the indigestion he has from resisting to talk your ear off at the dining table (like he’s always did when you were young) because you barely even spoke to him, or if it’s the overwhelming feeling of being back home with everything feeling familiar but you — either way, Yoongi thinks he’s gonna be sick.
“I’ll sleep at my mom’s,” you purse your lips, leaving him at that.
Between the yearning, demanding looks you get from Yoongi, the nosy and concerned glances from Namjoon, and even the guilt that you get from keeping all of your emotions from your mom when you used to confide in her religiously when you were younger — you’re drained. The urge to wash off all your anxiety can’t be done in your childhood home’s small bathroom. You can’t with the faulty water heater (you have to keep one finger pressed on the button at all times to keep it running) because you can’t even cry in peace under the either scorching or freezing water.
You can’t evade everything by grabbing a drink from the fridge that runs loudly as if it’s excavating oil from underneath your floors. You can’t curl up on the couch that’s become worn with age because there’s dents of you and Yoongi, the only two people who had sat on it the most every late night for years on end. You can’t romanticize any of the things in your home that have brought you joy all your life at this point in time.
To sleep under the same roof with your mother and brother again after so long feels foreign. It’s a language you can perceive but can’t translate and the frustration that comes with it seeps into your bones. There must be some common ground between the three of you; it should be anything and everything. With Namjoon being a world-renowned football player and you being somewhat accomplished and decorated in your field, you’ve managed to retire your mom early.
The three of you are doing fine. Not one interaction in the past five years has ever felt this tense and unfamiliar, but if you could pick just the odd one out, the very reason why you feel like falling to the floor and crawling your way out of your own home because you feel like you don’t belong to it — it’s Yoongi.
You feel awkward in your own four walls, whereas Yoongi finds your nightlight that you keep tucked in your closet without breaking a sweat.
Namjoon tugs you right when you’re about to call it a day in your mom’s room, his hushed whispers taking you back to when he pleaded for you not to rat them out whenever he and Yoongi crashed at the couch drunk.
“Give them this,” he shoves the can of bug spray into your hands, your immediate reaction making him wrestle with you just to push you closer to your own bedroom.
“No, Joon. You give it.”
“Y/N, no. You give it,” he whines, purposely having given Yoongi extra sheets and blankets earlier without the bug spray so you’d have something to take to him.
“I don’t wanna see Yoongi,” you whisper, trying to pathetically regain your footing even if you know your attempts go futile against an athlete for a brother.
“You think I don’t know that?” he snarks, giving you one last shove with a stern finger. “We’re gonna talk about whatever the hell happened between you and him, but right now, you’re gonna offer him bug spray like the gracious hosts that we are!”
You crash too far to your door that it could be mistaken as a knock, making you hiss because you know you can’t retract it. You actually knock this time, being met with nothing but a quiet Yoongi behind your own door.
Even when he opens it fully, even when it’s your own room — you enter hesitantly.
Yoongi’s already made a home out of your room. He knew where your nightlight was, knew which good extension cord (that didn’t spark every time it shifted) to plug into the wall, and even knew where you kept the magazine that you had to wedge between your windows whenever they didn’t fully close.
“Namjoon told me to give you this,” you put your hand out, looking at everything but Yoongi. You could look at Haneul who’s sprawled in the middle of the bed, but it isn’t any different than looking at his dad himself.
Yoongi, on the other hand, can’t see anything but you. He feels like an intruder who just happened to know the confines of your life almost better than his own, holding bug spray and the remainder of whatever recognition you have left for him.
“Will we ever be alright?” he whispers, not for the sake of keeping Haneul asleep, but for the sake of his sanity. If he makes his voice any louder, he’ll spill all his grievances and question if he had ever meant anything to you.
“We’ve always been alright,” you smile tightly, wrapping your hands around your back.
“You know what I’m talking about,” he pleads, swallowing the lump in his throat. “When did you ever give me bug spray? When did you have to knock on my door, o-or when did you ever have to treat me like I’m some guest and not a huge part of your life?” Yoongi stumbles over his words, correcting himself with a huff. “Most of your life.”
The sarcasm that coats the last of his words makes you twitch, the clench in your jaw being unmistakeable. Yoongi almost forgot what you looked like whenever you argued with him — talked to him, even. “Why are you only bitching about this to me and not to Namjoon? He’s the one who told me to give you the bug spray.”
“This is not about the bug spray!”
“What is it about then? Is this, is this some sort of long-winded euphemism that involves bug spray? What is it Yoongi, are you gonna hound me for an essay about it?” you spit, exhaling heavily. Haneul twitches in his sleep from the corner of your eye. “You grew up and so did I.”
Yoongi flinches like you’ve shot him.
“Don’t do this to me, kid. Don’t do this to us.”
You flinch because anything is better than to have him dig up his old nickname for you as if he’s close; as if he’s still the Yoongi that you chased, as if you’re still the Y/N he looked out for.
“Don’t call me that.”
( ♡ )
Yoongi’s in the kitchen with your mom.
He looks domestic this way, hair tousled and pajamas loose. Even if you have unbridled internet access (courtesy of the high-speed package you split with Namjoon for your mom even if the most she does online is repost motivational quotes, reels of Namjoon and his team, and clips of Jungkook where you’re seen), you can’t muster the courage to search Yoongi’s name and what he’s made of himself.
You’re too scared to search up articles about his success as a producer because if you do, you’re terrified by the thought of accidentally clicking a link that leads you to a page of him and his ex-wife.
You’re too weak to search up the songs he’s had a hand in (that is if you hadn’t heard them before) because you fear that if you even listen for a single second, you might hear how perfect his life has been ever since he left behind everything that he’s ever known.
Even now, you’re too uneasy at the sight of him. He’s in your home and he looks like the version of himself that had never left. The Yoongi in front of you, sitting on your seat at the dining table and peeling tangerines with your mom, resembles the Yoongi that would top off your glass with water whenever you ate with him.
It’s as if you’ve always been in touch for the past five years; it’s as if Yoongi has never aged and you never drifted apart.
“You’re awake,” he remarks, greeting you first before your mom could even register your presence.
“You’re still here,” you reply, the exhale that leaves you making you deflate in reflection. Breakfast isn’t ready yet, but Yoongi’s already slid over a plate to you.
“There. Just how you like them.”
There’s tangerines with barely any pith on them, and iced tea that had more ice cubes in them than there are in the freezer.
Yoongi smiles at you like you’re the old you again; the one who is more forgiving, and the one who is more hopeful.
( ♡ )
If it wasn’t for your brother guilt-tripping you into joining the impromptu road trip, you never would have come.
You didn’t want to come with them in the first place because the very thought of hanging out with Namjoon and Yoongi like old times, this time with the addition of the latter’s son, was too close; too familial. The three already knew each other and had kept in touch and you’re the odd one out. You’re the only planet out of the system and once you’ve come to think of it, that bit of their galaxy never failed. Whether you were in it or not didn’t matter — atleast that’s what you thought.
Yoongi got everything he ever wanted and you’ve heard nothing about it.
You blocked his number and on every social media account he had to his name. Even with Namjoon as a prominent variable, you’re amazed to how you’ve heard little to nothing about Yoongi ever since he left your hometown. You still talked to your brother, of course, but there was an obvious difference to how your conversations went because none of them ever went to Yoongi.
You didn’t tell him to not talk about Yoongi at all. You didn’t instruct him to never utter a single word about his closest friend whom you also grew up with. You never told Namjoon anything concerning Yoongi and what unfolded between the two of you before you left, and yet, it’s almost as if he had already been in your mind and knew exactly what to do.
You’ve come to realize that the prospect of growing up never used to be in your cards. The whole concept of it sat at the very back of your mind, the only times you used to pay attention to it being whenever Yoongi picked at your brain.
You thought your world would have ended when you were 19. You didn’t think you would grow up and see past high school. You didn’t think you would finish college, much less pick a degree to pursue in the first place. You didn’t think of having a future — you didn’t think you’d be living it now in this way.
“Joon,” you mutter, voice barely being heard at the expanse of the balcony you’re in. It’s his balcony in his vacation house he barely stays in, overlooking the waves by the beach he isn’t even that fond of to begin with.
Yoongi and Haneul are already asleep, the father-son duo knocking out way ahead than everyone else. They stayed with the two of you in the balcony hours ago, the bug spray in both the adult and kid edition being proof of it.
Tonight, alone, felt different. It’s as if the younger version of you was gazing out to what was supposed to be your future, except neither the past nor present variant of you could have ever had it for yourself.
“Hm?” he hums, sipping the last of his drink while he’s sat at the far end. You know about each other’s presence, and while years ago, the two of you would’ve been giddy staying in a house as grand as this whilst drinking behind your mom’s back, you and Namjoon grew up. You didn’t fight or anything — you simply grew up and grew apart.
“I never said it before, but thank you,” you exhale, clenching Haneul’s towel as you try to warm your hands. You may have spent the better part of the day not even acknowledging his dad, but you did fawn over him like you would with any other child. “Thank you for not telling me a thing about Yoongi.”
“You’re welcome,” Namjoon finally speaks as soon as he grasps what you were talking about, the smile on his face only lasting for a second. “If it were up to me though, I would have told you everything.”
“Good thing it’s not up to you, hm?” you laugh uneasily, running your hand through your hair. You didn’t know how much you had to be grateful for until Yoongi came back and reminded you of how little you knew about him.
Namjoon breathlessly laughs, looking up at the sky to try and condense everything that has happened through his words before you leave again. “I would have told you that he confessed what happened that time you ran away from home a couple years back, and I beat his ass. We didn’t talk for like, I don’t know, three months? Even when I was still training in the US that time.”
Your lack of a reply is what makes him take notice, the stunned look you have on your face making him snort.
“What?” he questions, eyebrows furrowed as he throws a stray bottle cap at you. “Why are you so shocked? I love him like a brother, but you’re my actual sister,” he confides his loyalty to you, yet you don’t even have a second to express your awe before he opens his mouth again. “I would have told you that I became the best man at his wedding. Even mom was there.”
“You can stop telling me these things now.”
Namjoon exhales, already feeling deep in his chest that you’re gearing up to leave. He wants to get the last word in, not to prove himself, but to try and vindicate you and the quiet suffering you endured without telling anyone.
“I would have told you that Yoongi kept trying to come back to you.”
( ♡ )
Haneul wakes up before Yoongi does.
You’re confused for a second because the moment you hear the lightest footsteps that you ever could pad along the kitchen, you become completely disoriented. There’s a child that looks like Yoongi, wandering off to where you are.
For the briefest second, your heart drops because the whole situation resembles a vignette. In another lifetime, it could’ve been your child, your Haneul, waking up before his dad, trudging to the kitchen where you are is if you’re his mom.
He’s an observant kid, far too trusting unlike his dad who used to scold you to hell and back for even entertaining strangers that asked you for directions. He’s friendly to you; to someone Yoongi had introduced as appa’s close friend. There isn’t even a single hint in how he introduced you to Haneul that the two of you stopped being close. Yoongi didn’t leave the faintest indicator to him that you most probably hated his guts and would probably choose a lifetime where he hadn’t even been in your life at all.
Haneul is innocent to yours and Yoongi’s history and it’s going to stay that way. You don’t meant to change whatever he introduced you as because by the time your mom’s birthday week is over, or by the time Yoongi takes the hint and leaves your hometown again, you would be a fleeting persona in Haneul’s life.
You’re not his mom. You’re not anyone of significance to either him and his dad.
“Good morning,” he greets shyly, his diction telling of how just attentive Yoongi is as a dad. You mostly listened to whatever Namjoon told you last night anyway, tuning out the parts where he rounded to how Yoongi had been miserable not having any contact with you (you don’t believe that at all), and instead zeroing in on the large details that you’ve missed. “Auntie.”
You smile tightly, patting the empty seat beside to you to which he climbs effortlessly.
Haneul doesn’t know you, but you do know him. You know that his dad is a doting, slightly paranoid one whose current dilemma is whether or not enrolling him in kindergarten early or waiting for one more year. You know that Yoongi doesn’t want him to know about the existence of iPads for probably ever, so he spends almost every waking moment talking to him to the point that Haneul’s eloquent at speaking for his age. You also know that Namjoon’s his godfather, and that he had looked after him for a whole day by himself when Yoongi went to settle his divorce.
Haneul doesn’t know you, but you know his parents. You know Yoongi is his dad, and more importantly, that Hyewon is his mom — the same Hyewon who had been with him in your room before, and the same woman Yoongi shared his success with when he made it big.
“Hi,” you greet him softly, handing him his bottle for him to drink from. It’s a warm, domestic vignette for a split second. You’ve watched Yoongi far too many times at the corner of your eye to know where he gets the distilled water. “Why are you up already?”
“Uncle Joonie promised yesterday we can watch the sunrise together,” he says in between sips, letting you comb his hair into order unconsciously. You didn’t even think of it before your hand sweeps the strands scattered on his forehead, the hum you have at the back of your throat pausing when you realized what you’ve done.
“He’s still sleeping right now. He had uh, a long night,” you mutter, at a loss for a child-friendly alternative word for hangover. You keep your hands to yourself because you fear falling into the domesticity that isn’t yours to relax into; if you think about it for a second longer, you’d think that Haneul is yours and Yoongi is the final piece to your puzzle.
“Oh. But I, I wanna watch,” Haneul frowns, brows softly furrowed at your revelation. He’s not close to throwing a tantrum, but the upset expression on his face keeps tugging at your heart to cave.
“You can take your dad with you,” you offer, willing to knock on Yoongi’s door if it meant his son smiling again.
Haneul shakes his head at that, looking up at the ceiling as he recalls the events of last night before being tucked in. “Nuh-uh. Appa had a long night too. He just kept crying.”
A part of you wishes that Haneul didn’t speak so clearly.
“What?” you clarify, heart skipping a beat the more you replay his words in your head.
“Crying?” Haneul repeats, tilting his head as he tries to figure you out. He says it again for a third time as if you needed any clarification of the word and not because of your disbelief that his dad was capable of it. “Like this,” he adds, pretending to bawl with his hands wiping at his eyes.
The scene before you is your brief moment of reprieve, making you chuckle breathlessly as you try to regain your senses. Whether or not Haneul was sure of what he was saying, if Yoongi had cried, it’s most probably not because of anything that has to do with you.
“Oh. So that’s what it means. Thank you, Haneul,” you laugh lowly, patting him on the head until you retract your hand again in realization.
Haneul thinks nothing of your trepidation; he thinks nothing of the yearning behind your eyes, and thinks nothing of the tremble in your voice.
“Can we watch the sunrise together?” he asks, eyes looking up at you as if doing so would be the equivalent of hanging the stars up for him in the sky.
(Read: it probably is, and in another lifetime, or in the far-shot that it happens in this one, you’d do it if he asks you to do so.)
You want to ask Haneul why it’s you who he wants to accompany him, but you don’t. You can wake up either Yoongi and Namjoon to go with him instead, but you won’t.
In another lifetime, this would have been your son, your Haneul asking to watch the sunrise with you. There’s a Yoongi-shaped hole and a Haneul-shaped vacancy in your chest, but you don’t prod about it further.
You don’t question what’s happening, and maybe, just maybe, there’s a tiny part of you that wants to fully accept it instead of hesitating to do so.
“Okay.”
Haneul puts his hand in yours, but you don’t pull away. You just hold him tighter.
( ♡ )
A large part of you forgot that for as long as Yoongi’s here, he’ll treat every interaction you have with Namjoon as an open invitation for him. He had always been this way; for as long as you could remember, he’ll include himself even if he isn’t needed nor wanted.
You can’t count the amount of times your mom had berated Namjoon for something and oddly enough, Yoongi also happened to be there. Whether it was to rat out on his own best friend or being at the receiving end of said scolding, Yoongi jumped at every opportunity to come along as a package deal.
When you asked Namjoon to drink with you at the balcony two days ago, Yoongi butted in and asked what brand of alcohol he should buy you at the convenience store. When you were on the way home and asked your brother what he wanted from the rest stop, Yoongi said he wanted the biggest can of coffee you could find.
And when you asked Namjoon what time you should come to the stadium to watch him practice, Yoongi said he’ll pack you an extra cap while Haneul bonded with your mom.
Sometime long ago, you and Yoongi saw each other eye to eye. You can’t determine when and how exactly, but there was a point in your life where everything you had to say to each other was what the other was thinking all along. Nowadays, you can’t even look at Yoongi in the eye while all he wanted was for you to return his gaze.
If there’s just one thing though, one single variable that remained unchanged between the two of you, it would be Namjoon.
The way Yoongi engages you in conversation this time around is not to trap you and to ramp himself up to apologize again, but purely, it’s to talk about your brother. Namjoon’s a lot of things, and one thing you pray would remain unchanged is the love you have for each other.
“Who would have thought, right?” Yoongi nudges, asking you sincerely. “Who would have thought that the Namjoon who had knockoff cleats years ago would become this world-famous athlete?” he chuckles, shaking his head as he once again tries to digest the fact that this very stadium in your hometown had been built and refashioned in his honor.
You laugh genuinely, the sound being the first he’s ever heard in such a long time.
“Abibas.”
Yoongi has his lips parted, shocked that you were even answering him.
“Abibas. That was the brand of his knockoff cleats,” you chuckle, bowing your head as you try to contain your laughter. “He could’ve bought the original with his allowance and everything, but he split it so he could also buy me knockoffs.”
Yoongi laughs at the memory you jog up in his mind, remembering distinctly how Namjoon kept asking for his opinion repeatedly on which colorway of the knockoff pair he should gift you.
Even if things are still tense between you, even if Namjoon is the only salvation that Yoongi could bring up in a conversation to which you don’t run from, nothing from the past five years could ever take this moment away from you.
The three of you have grown up. Some faster than they’d like, and some because they had no choice but to — nonetheless, in this moment, it’s the three of you back at home like it used to be.
“Namjoon was always meant for greatness. Even from the start,” you murmur, your attention waiting on Yoongi’s response even if your eyes were on Namjoon in the field.
“You are too,” he interjects quickly, voice defensive at the lack of your name to your own sentence.
“No I’m not,” you snort, crossing your arms. You’re not angry when you say it; in fact, you’re calm as if you’ve always seen it coming. “You told me I’d amount to nothing.”
You’re calm, seemingly at peace with what you just said and what Yoongi had ingrained in your head before, but he’s the furthest thing from it. His mouth hangs open, chest tightening impossibly as he shakes his head eagerly.
“I never said that!”
You’re about to counter him when you hear a familiar holler reach you at the lower section of the bleachers, eyes perking to see a familiar figure who isn’t blood-related to you.
“Y/N!” Jimin runs up to you faster than to whenever he passes the ball to Namjoon, engulfing you in a massive hug that forces you up to your feet before you know it.
“Oh my god, Jimin! I didn’t know you were gonna be here!” you awe at the sight of him, unwilling to break away from the embrace until he does so. It’s been ages since you’ve seen him, the second-best player in the team (you’re biased because of course Namjoon had been the best player to you since you were kids) being the closest member to you out of everyone.
Jimin doesn’t care for Yoongi. He knows of the guy and he doesn’t want to know any more than he already does. He doesn’t even acknowledge the guy’s presence; all he does is squeeze you tighter and twirl you briefly in his arms.
“Fuck, me neither. Heaven must’ve healed my ankle quicker so I could come here and see you,” he flirts playfully, earning a well-deserved eye roll from you.
“And you know, play for Korea.”
“Eh. That too, I guess,” he shrugs, sitting at the seat beside you. He looks straight at you and only you — Jimin only pauses to snort to himself when he notices that Yoongi’s squirming in his seat, beyond annoyed and frustrated.
( ♡ )
On the fifth day of Yoongi staying over at your house, there’s a power outage.
The sound of everything shutting off together in sync makes you jolt, the collective groan you hear outside from the neighborhood comforting you in solidarity.
You can only make out a grunt from Namjoon and a gasp from your mom until you hear the trembling voice of Haneul, the sound of a cry that crawls up his throat putting everyone on their feet.
“Oh baby, it’s okay, it’s okay! It’s just a little dark, that’s all,” Yoongi pipes up instantly, scooping him up in his arms without having to fumble for where he is because he could practically locate his son in his sleep.
You didn’t want for it to be a power outage, but oddly enough, you feel sorry that it happened while you’re here. “It’s okay, Haneul,” you whisper as consolation, the dark of the night shielding you from how Yoongi’s eyes widen at your cooing for his son. “Mom, where did you put that generator I got you?”
“About that,” she sheepishly shrugs, turning on her phone to illuminate her shyness. “I donated it last year to the public school nearby.”
“It’s gonna get so hot,” Namjoon groans, the sound of him clumsily feeling around for the lights alerting Haneul briefly. He comforts him instantly, finally turning on the torch in his phone instead of relying on his instincts. “Don’t cry, Haneul, alright? Uncle Joonie’s gonna get the candles and the flashlights.”
“I’ll go try to find a guy,” you get up as soon as Namjoon hands you a flashlight, your contribution to help instantly being shut down.
“You can’t just try to find a guy, Y/N. That’s dangerous,” Yoongi scoffs, putting a hand on your forearm to pull you.
“I meant on my phone, Yoongi,” you grit. “I was gonna go outside to try and look for a signal.”
“That’s still dangerous,” he narrows his eyes at you as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world.
“Give me a break,” you mutter, removing his hold from you. You’d save your pride and actually go outside if not for your mom interjecting that she knows an electrician from her contacts.
Namjoon comes back after his quest for battery-powered fans and flashlights, unaware of how Yoongi’s protective streak for you practically never disappeared; in fact, it came back twofold. “Whole neighborhood’s out. Must be a broken transformer or something.”
Your mom consoles Haneul in her arms.
Namjoon waits by the gate for the electrician.
You and Yoongi clean the fridge up before anything spoils.
In between getting food out and embracing Haneul every now and then who insisted on obediently sitting atop the counter so he’s closer to his dad, Yoongi holds your hand.
“That’s my hand that you’re holding,” you murmur, assuming that he had mistaken yours for Haneul’s as he’s always chuckled how yours always seemed to be small against his.
Yoongi only hums.
“I know.”
( ♡ )
You’re falling back into your old routine.
Maybe it’s how your mom has to shake you awake because otherwise, you’d sleep through the afternoon and would therefore be unable to sleep through the night. On the other hand, it could be Namjoon who either hounds you to hang out with him or tell you off for clinging to him too much.
Maybe, it’s just Yoongi. It’s him who’s tricking your brain into thinking that has nothing changed with the way he keeps peeling fruits for you and telling you to be safe even if you’re only buying ice cream from the convenience store.
It’s only been a week and a half of almost normalcy, save for the fact that there are certain things and connections you can neither reverse nor rekindle.
You’re convinced, almost fully convinced that history is repeating itself except for the bitter, ugly parts of it that you never want to pop in your head again.
Like the past, Namjoon blocks you for whatever reason in his head but this time he does it to you while you’re on the way to your room, on the quest to retrieve your charger for your phone that you barely even used for work purposes.
“It’s my room. Why can’t I go in my room?” you furrow your brows at him, your amusement turning into annoyance the more that Namjoon pushed you with actual strength instead of playfulness.
“Are you hungry? Let’s go out for dinner,” he changes the subject quickly, turning you towards the stairs.
You shouldn’t have questioned him further — you should’ve left it at that.
“I guess? I’ll just get my purse,” you concede, dodging his attempts to haul you downstairs.
“I’ll pay,” Namjoon insists and although it’s not out of the blue for him, his franticness is what keeps you on edge.
“I still need my-…” you counter, being interrupted when he holds you firmly as you attempt to walk towards your door. Namjoon grips you with a silent plead, one that you can’t even decipher. “What the fuck is going on with you?”
You finally break off his grip at once, walking into your room with a renowned determination.
It’s not only your routine that falls back into place, but it’s your whole worldview that does.
Love is terribly human. It’s a loose thread on your shirt that gets snagged on your doorknob. It’s a coat in your closet waiting to be worn for the supposed perfect time, and when you do, you realize that it no longer fits you.
Love is terribly human, and it is terribly Yoongi, Hyewon, and Haneul.
Love is terribly human and fragile, and it’s Yoongi, Hyewon, and their son sleeping on your bed.
#target audience im on my knees IM SO SO SORRY HOW R U FEELING!!!!#yoongi imagine#yoongi oneshot#yoongi oneshots#yoongi series#yoongi angst#yoongi angst imagine#yoongi fluff#yoongi x reader#yoongi x y/n#yoongi au#min yoongi imagine#min yoongi scenario#yoongi fanfic#yoongi x you#bts yoongi imagine#bts yoongi x reader
647 notes
·
View notes
Text
sweet girl:
pairing: yoonji x f. reader
genre: fluff || smut || non-idol au || cisswap || established relationship
summary: sometimes work is hard but your girlfriend makes it all better
word count: 2.2k
tags/warnings: smut in the forms of: mommy kink 👹, strap!!!, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, they rub their clits together :D and they kiss because they’re in love, also boobie appreciation, talked about aftercare
notes: teehee, to all the girl lovers. also technically part of this universe but can be read as a standalone (not proofread because i genuinely need sleep)
where you can find the rest of my stuff!!
. . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆.
“Sweet girl?” Yoonji calls from the couch as the front door opens.
Your shoes pad against the floor before you’re kicking them off, bag making a loud thud as it slips off your shoulder. Desperate fingers tug at the button of your jeans, tugging them down your thighs.
You fall to a standstill when you see Yoonji, her eyes rake down your body.
“Hi” you breathe.
A gentle smile pulls at her lips, “Hey” she starts, beckoning you over, “how was your day?”
You hum, socked feet sliding against the carpet as you fall onto the couch beside her, “Long”
“You look so tired, baby” her hands skim down the length of your arm, soft lips pressing a kiss to your cheek as your eyes close in bliss. You feel some of the tension leave your body, muscles melting and mind floating as Yoonji tugs your head towards her chest.
You wriggle a little, leg lifting over her thigh as you press your face between her tits. You draw in a long breath, arm slipping around her waist as you try and press yourself impossibly closer to your girlfriend.
“My poor thing” she murmurs, fingers raking through your hair, “my poor needy little thing, can feel that greedy cunt of yours clenching, baby”
A mean little laugh tumbles from her lips as your hips jolt forward at her words, cheeks warming at being caught. And yet you couldn’t feel shame, not when she was the prettiest person you’ve ever met, how warm her skin is, touch tender and gentle.
“Need me to help you?” her fingers tug a little at your scalp, breath catching in the back of your throat as you rut your hips forward again. Your clit throbs at the delicious drag of your panties against your cunt, desperate as you roll your hips a little faster.
Yoonji pulls your face from her chest, whine on the tip of your tongue, ready to split before your eyes meet hers, “I asked you a question, sweet thing”
“Need you” you whisper, greedy fingers tugging at her shirt, needing her closer. Layers of clothes too much, an all-consuming want tugging at your body and mind, a desperate need to have Yoonji’s skin against yours.
“Need me to what, baby?” she tips her head down, lips skimming against yours. You press upwards to close that little space between the both of you. Her balmy lipstick smears across your mouth, moan catching in the back of your throat as her tongue presses into your mouth.
She’s the one to pull away from you, curl of a smile on her lips “Tell me”
You swallow, eyes flickering between her own, “Wanna feel good”
“Yeah? Need me to help with that?”
You nod up at her, hand resting against her stomach as you try and press for another kiss.
The fingers still tangled in your hair tug you back.
“Ask me, baby. Ask me to make you feel good”
You wet your bottom lip with your tongue, cheeks flushed as you look at her, absolutely enamoured by her existence.
“Please” you start, “please make me feel good, wanna cum”
“You gonna cum on mommy’s cock?”
Your fingers dig into her shirt, frantic as you nod.
“Be a good girl and get my cock then” she nods towards the bedroom.
You scramble to get up, foot almost catching on the edge of the rug as you stand up.
Yoonji’s fingers loop around the waistband of your panties as you turn towards the bedroom, you stumble backwards as she tugs you towards her.
You let out something akin to a squeak as the sudden force, “bend over for me a little, baby” she murmurs.
You do as she says, goosebumps prickling down your arms as she presses a kiss where your ass meets your thighs.
She pats your side, “Good girl”
You skuttle into the bedroom, pulling a box from under the bed. Raw need thrums through your veins, mind racing as you fumble for which dildo you want, because Yoonji asking you to get the strap meant you got to choose tonight. How much you wanted to be stretched, how numb did you want your mind with nothing but her name circling every fibre of your being until you cum, bones jelly and mind sated. Where you know she’ll kiss tender skin, run the bath for you, sat there as she warms your bones then lays with you in bed.
You pick one of the bigger dildos, lube tucked under your arm. You catch sight of something in the mirror before you leave the bedroom.
You turn a little, bending over slightly, only to see a faint red kiss painting your skin from Yoonji’s lipstick.
You feel arousal dribble past your walls, cotton soaked as you slip out of the bedroom.
“Greedy little thing” Yoonji hums when you drop everything on the couch, “come on, stretch yourself open then” she pats the pillow beside her.
You fall back on the couch, tugging your panties off.
“On your knees” she hums, tugging her shirt over her head, pants kicked off along with her own underwear.
You turn over, back arching as your fingers run through your folds, slick soaked as your cunt clenches.
“How pretty” your girlfriend murmurs, shuffling behind you as she steps into the strap, eyes trained on you. Watching as your fingers slip through your folds, teasing as you dip a finger into yourself, thighs quivering as you press in a little further.
You hear the cap of the lube click open, teasing a second finger at the entrance of your cunt, gentle as you press further into yourself, fingers spreading to stretch yourself open a little more.
“That’s it, sweet thing” Yoonji hums, hands skimming down the back of your thigh. You feel the silicone cock nudge against your ass, lube clinging to your skin as Yoonji ruts against you.
“Please” you shake your ass, fingers spreading yourself open for her.
“Please, what” she taunts, rubbing the bulbous head of her cock over your slick soaked cunt.
“Mommy please” you try and press her into you, fingers balling into fists, “please please please”
“Oh baby” she croons, one hand pulling at your ass to get a better view as she lines up the head of the dildo with your entrance better. A moan drips off your tongue, sweet like honey as she presses into you.
Your hand trails down your body, fingers grazing over your pulsating clit as Yoonji sinks further into you.
“Good girl” she hums, hands kneading your ass, “always such a pretty thing for me, right, baby?”
You nod, eyes squeezing shut as your mouth tips open in bliss. That full, perfect ache of being stretched open just right wracks up your spine, arousal dripping onto the couch below you as you rut back onto the cock. It’s obscene, the wet smack of your tacky skin against Yoonji’s pelvis, cock shiny, wet with your evident arousal.
“Thank you” it comes out breathless, fingers greedy as you play with your clit, toes curling when Yoonji pulls you back by your hips.
You feel the cock press against your sweet spot, staccato of moans muffled by the coach.
“That’s it” Yoonji croons, fingers digging into your flesh, hips snapping forward. Pleasure crawls up your body, clit throbbing as your hands grasp onto the couch.
“Wanna cum, please, please” you cry, each breath caught in the back of your throat.
“Yeah?”
You barely get the words out, “Please” is all you manage, thighs shaking as you slip closer and closer to release. Yoonji is unrelenting, pulling her cock out to the tip before her hips quickly snap back into you.
“Make a mess over Mommy’s cock”
One of her hands slip across your hip, dancing over your stomach before thrumming at your poor clit, so swollen and desperate.
“Fuck” you moan, hips rutting backwards as she plays with you.
“Cum for me”
Her name lodges in your throat, pussy clenching sporadically as you near your high.
You barely register your own voice, “Please”
“Come on, sweet girl” she presses over your clit a little faster, “so close for me, make a mess of my cock”
Stars dance behind your eyes as you tip over the edge, hiccup of a moan falling past your lips.
“That’s it” Yoonji hums, arousal soaked fingers skimming over your back. She rolls the cock into you slowly, helping you draw out your high.
Your toes tingle as you come to, thighs aching and cunt still clenching around the girthy intrusion.
“Good girl, you still here with me?” she murmurs.
You give her a nod.
“Words, baby”
You swallow, “I’m okay”
“Just okay?”
“Feel good”
A breathy laugh vibrates from her chest, “good”
You feel the ridges of the silicone cock drag against your sensitive walls as she begins to pull out. She lets out a low moan, watching the head of the cock spread your walls open before its slipping out of you, a pitiful dribble of creamy cum slipping down your thighs.
You tilt over, laying on your back, arms open for Yoongi.
She smiles down at you, unhooking her bra, letting it drop to the floor before she’s laying over you.
“God, you’re so pretty” she presses a kiss to your cheek.
Your hips roll upwards, cock pressed between your legs.
“And insatiable” she hums.
Your arms hold her close, “wanna make you feel good too” you murmur, head tilting upwards to press a kiss to her lips.
She indulges you, tongue licking over your bottom lip.
“You don’t have to” she whispers, eyes closed as she presses another chaste kiss to your lips, “just wanted you to feel better after a hard day”
You hum, “please”
Your hips rut upwards again, pleasure shooting up your spine, arousal tacky dildo pressing against your clit deliciously.
“What do you want?” she asks, fingers brushing your hair out of your face.
“This off” you tug at the straps of the strap on dildo.
Yoonji pushes herself off you a little, loosening the straps. Your own fingers press into your cunt, palm grazing your clit as the dildo falls to the floor.
“I’ll clean up later” you murmur, another dribble of arousal falling to the couch.
“Don’t worry about it” she leans over you, “leg up baby”
Her fingers wrap around your ankle, helping you lay back on the couch a little better. She tugs your leg up, slotting her own thighs beside yours.
She lifts her hand to her face, spit dribbling into her palm as she brings it down to her own pussy, spreading her folds. She drags her arousal soaked fingers over her clit, low moan catching in the back of her throat at the sudden friction.
Impatient, you lean yourself up onto your elbows, mouth latching onto one of her nipples, teeth grazing the sensitive skin.
“Shit” she whines, lowering her hips. You moan around her nipple at the first slick contact of her cunt pressed against your clit, warm, slick arousal dribbling over your folds.
Her hands trail down her body, fingers lifting up the hood of her clit as she ruts against yours.
“Ah” you moan, mouth falling open in pure bliss.
One of her arms stay hooked around your thigh, using it as leverage as she starts to roll her hips, your own thick arousal mixing with hers.
Your clit throbs, moans drowning out the obscene slick of your pussies rubbing against one another. Your mound is coated in arousal, her inner thighs tainted with your slick.
Each press of her clit over your sends you reeling into delicious overstimulation, still recovering from your last orgasm.
“Oh, darling” she moans, free hand falling to grope your chest.
Your lips wrap back around her nipple, warm breath fanning over her skin as you lick over her chest. Your teeth nip over sensitive skin at a particular thrust, unbridled pleasure coursing through every fibre of your being as she moans your name.
“Cum with me” she whines, trying to catch her own breath.
“Close” you whisper against her skin, teeth sinking into her pert nipples. That twinge of pain is enough to tip Yoonji over the edge, hand grasping at her free boob as she bounces a little.
Your cheeks heat at the lewdness of it all, tingling overstimulation helping you topple over the edge just after Yoonji. She continues to rub your pussies together, riding out the pure pleasure it brings the both of you.
“My good girl” her head tips back, “perfect girl”
You rub the mixture of both your cum and arousal over your clit, fingers twisting to run through her folds as she lets that final wave of arousal dribble over your cunt.
You bring your fingers up to your mouth, sucking on the mixture of your cum as you look up at her.
“How about a nice bath” she suggests, hands skimming up your sides, letting your leg fall back onto the couch.
“Can we use the new bubble bath we got?”
Yoonji lets out a breathy laugh, “Of course”
She leans down, pressing a gentle kiss to the corner of your lips, tasting that mixture of your arousal.
“Love you” she whispers.
“I love you so much” you say, arms wrapping around her neck, pulling her in for a proper kiss.
#bts fic#bts smut#bts fluff#yoongi#bts fanfic#yoongi smut#min yoongi smut#min yoongi fic#yoongi fic#yoongi fanfic#bts x reader#min yoongi x reader#yoongi x reader#bts non idol au#yoongi imagine#yoongi scenarios#min yoongi imagine#yoongi fluff#yoongi x you
252 notes
·
View notes
Text
PART I: BARE YOUR SOUL
PART II: BARE YOUR HEART
ROOMMATE AU/SOULMATE AU
I finally figured out my titles! Thank you to all who helped me brainstorm and a big shout out to @sumzysworld for the winning suggestion. You guys are the best. This fic has fully taken on a mind of its own. I really can’t wait to share it with you all! I even made a banner! It’s a lot more understated than my usual style, but it really fits the tone of the fic and I’m very happy with it!
coming soon…
READ A TINY TEASER HERE
AND HERE
AND HERE
#I made a banner#yay#naked yoongi soulmate fic#the naked soulmate dualogy#min yoongi#min yoongi fic#yoongi fic#reader insert#bts#bts yoongi#yoongi smut#min yoongi x reader#min yoongi smut#min yoongi imagine#suga#bts suga#suga x reader#yoongi x reader
760 notes
·
View notes
Text
Yoongi
𝐔𝐍𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐁𝐋𝐄 | Business Decisions
He's not who people might think he is.
Tags/Warnings: Alien!Yoongi, Human!Reader, Unstable AU, set prior/during the Jungkook storyline, dystopian AU, space/Sci-fi/cyberpunk-esque, strangers to lovers, Angst, Violence, Drama, romance, adult, eventual smut
Length: 3k Words
-Masterlist
⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅
Min Yoongi is, despite his looks and quiet nature, a very kind person. Or at least, that's what some very selected people will tell, if one was to ask them.
His tail softly sways behind him as he keeps an eye on the main operational panel in front of him, while you watch. His cat-like ear snaps a bit irritated at something- when his eyes turn towards you, glaring. “can you.. stop staring?” He requests, and you nod, instead turning to look out the large window of the spaceship instead. You’re quiet, but not mute- having talked to him quite a bit before. Maybe you simply don’t speak much, or don’t put much value in.. smalltalk.
That’s fine by him. He doesn’t either.
He's found you- or rather, you found him- just hours earlier at an outpost, asking him to take you along to another location in exchange for a small amount of money. Where he went next you didn't care- you only needed a ride to get around, most likely used to this kind of life, since you'd obviously chosen him very specifically amongst all the other options at the bustling restaurant.
In hindsight, it made sense that you approached him despite his grim appearance- he was the shortest and least threatening looking species in that restaurant at the time, and was also one of the only one's there without any company at all. You're clearly smart about this whole process of finding a ride from one place to another-
otherwise, you wouldn't have lived like this for so long, having done this for years, according to you.
“There is.. Food over there. If you’re hungry.” He tells you, and you look over to spot the metal trunk in a corner, before you nod at him, not moving at all however.
“I’m not.” You answer, though your stomach growls as if to disagree, making you clearly a bit ashamed of it, eyes widening at being betrayed by your own body like this.
“Just eat. I wouldn’t offer it if I didn’t want to give it to you.” He mumbles to himself, resuming his task of checking the ship’s systems again while you stay seated where he’d last told you to sit. You still won’t move, and he’s unsure why not- but he’s also aware that he shouldn’t get too invested in you. You’re gonna be dropped off next stop, and that’s gonna be it- which is for the best, because getting involved with humans is never a very good idea.
And he’s also still on a mission to get his revenge- and secure his place in the foodchain, to be no longer seen as nothing but a docile little pet. A mission that might as well kill him- and if he can avoid pulling anyone down with him, he surely will.
When he notices your eyes blinking longer and longer, he walks to fetch a sleeping bag from one of the other metal trunk in the corner, to offer it to you. “Sleep. It’ll still be a few more hours until we’ve reached the next outpost.” He says, and you take the sleeping bag from him with a thankful nod, before you spread it out right on the floor where you sit, to crawl into it and lay down. He has a suspicion what your way of earning money had been until now, but with your behavior so obvious, it’s very clear to him now.
It makes him upset. The fact that you’ve been driven so far just to somehow survive.
Either way, he stays awake to both keep himself safe just incase he’s misjudged you and your intentions, and to make sure the old and very small spaceship keeps it’s course as it sometimes tends to deviate over time due to the old navigation system. And yeah, maybe he also can’t help his instincts as well-
Unintentionally guarding you while you sleep, eyes always checking up on you any time you move in your sleep.
⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅
Min Yoongi was born on Zoldos- a small, cold and relatively poor planet, which had been industrialized for ages. He remembers his father making toys out of junk he found while working at the metal factory each day, turning trash into small spaceships for Yoongi to play with.
Most of his time however was spent with his mother, and the many children she’d foster over the years of his childhood- many of them he’d see as his sisters, as all of them would be girls given up by their families, since in his culture, they’re said to just be expensive and too much work to raise. Maybe this way of growing up, helping his mother with the young kids every day while she taught him everything he needed for his future, made him into the man he is today.
His father had always been described as ‘unusually soft’ compared to what is usually expected and seen in his kind- Xaqal people tending to be combative, easily irritated, and quick to escalate situations into physical violence to defend themselves from others. But his father was already uninterested in any of the usual past-time activities his coworkers would indulge in, like underground fighting, or gambling- rather spending his free time home with his son, foster children and partner, which was unusual in itself. Usually, partners of his kind don’t stay together after their children learn how to walk- but Yoongi remembers that even when his mother passed, his father would continue to live at the same house, to find new homes for the remaining children, before he moved away as well once Yoongi decided to leave the planet.
Yoongi is still in contact with his father, and doesn’t believe that he should’ve been raised any different than how he was.
But his now rather soft and kind character comes with a price to pay- with most people on other planets not taking too kindly to him and his friendly nature at first. Friendships don’t pay your bills after all, so the first lesson the young man had to learn back then, was to toughen up, and start thinking of only yourself first and foremost. Getting attached to others was a risk to take, and would most likely end in a burden one might think of unnecessary.
Even so, Yoongi has made friends along the way. From a very, very charismatic guy named Seokjin and his mother on Cryon, or the stoic and self-admitted younger ‘Asshole’ human-Bolku hybrid going by the name of Jungkook. But other than that, he keeps himself independent- away from others.
However, for some reason, he’s now sitting with you on a bench on the outpost while his spaceship is being refueled, having bought you some warm food to eat, despite your active arguments against that. Maybe because you’re obviously in need of protection, or because you’re not a threat whatsoever- but he feels like he should at least make sure you’ll be okay on this outpost, before he’ll leave you here.
Deep down, he knows it’s not the question if you end up getting into a situation where you’ll be killed- but more so, when.
“What are... your capabilities?” Yoongi asks after a moment, watching your hands as they tear apart a piece of bread to dip it into your hot soup he bought. A warm and filling meal was a good idea to him, since it’ll keep you energized for longer than just a snack or fast food.
You look up at him, caught off guard, as you swallow down, thinking.
“Hm..” You hum as you think. “I.. Can read maps pretty well. And I’m good at cleaning.” You say. “But I could probably learn other things pretty quickly, if needed. It depends on the job I could get.” You explain, and Yoongi nods.
“So if you had to learn about another species’ health and how to care for it, you could learn quickly?” He asks, and you nod.
“If.. Given enough recourses to teach myself.” You mumble, continuing to eat. He’s getting the feeling you’ve not had a filling meal in a while with how eager you are to finish all of it.
“I will not offer you monetary compensation.” He says, and at that, you look up again. “But instead a place to sleep, regular food, and.. Basic protection.” Yoongi explains to you, and at that, you instantly nod.
“I can do anything!” You chirp, desperate- and he carefully pushes you back down by your shoulder, calming you down again. “Really-”
“I believe you.” He nods. “But Be aware that I am not just some traveler.” He remarks, and you nod.
“I understand.” You say.
“Hm. If that’s the case-” He starts, looking over to a small shop that sells different electronics. “-I’ll get the necessary equipment to finalize our agreement. Stay here- and don’t talk to anyone.” He commands, and you nod, continuing to eat while he gets up to walk into the shop.
Many of the people inside this shop are wearing the distinctive blinking tiny tracker around their necks- either from a simple leather collar, something more sleek like a silver hoop, or even one with a chain. It’s to be expected, as most of what is sold here is equipment for ‘personnel’, as it’s called across the galaxy, after the term ‘slave’ had been outlawed and categorized as a slur.
Yoongi can feel the eyes on him, since the tall, green-skinned lady at the counter most likely waiting just like the rest of them for another person to follow him to buy equipment for him, as it’s normal for his kind- but the second he picks out a combination of a tracker, and EID tag, and a simple, silver collar that wouldn’t stain or sit too tight around your neck, people become interested.
“Size is a bit small for you, kitty.” The alien woman giggles, scanning the items to add the price of everything together. “You know how to set the EID up?” She says, clicking at the end of her sentences a foreign tone, similar to an insect.
“I know how it works.” He tells her, voice stable and monotone, something he taught himself to never give away any sign of his actual emotions. Because showing them will show weakness- and Yoongi needs to keep up an appearance of indifference at all times, just so people can never quite figure him out.
People naturally fear the unknown, down the line, no matter the species.
“Alright. Just out of curiosity though..” She says, clicking sounding again as she narrows her dark eyes at him while he pays. “...who the hell wants to be under the command of a Xaqal?” She says, some people in the small store giggling to themselves as if a joke had been told.
“Someone who will live a fairly comfortable life from now on.” He simply answers, payment confirmed by her system, before he takes the bag of items, and leaves- gazes following him long after he exited the store.
He’s relieved to still find you right where he left you, no one seemingly having tried to take you away, or worse yet- so he taps your shoulder to gain your attention, nodding towards his ship in the distance. “Let’s go. I need to set up your EID after we take off.” He says, and you nod, getting up to follow him.
“Are- are you sure I’m a good choice?” You ask, walking after him like some lost pet, eager to keep up with his rather fast pace. For a Xaqal, he’s surprisingly tall- not quite as tall as some of the other human’s you’ve met, which normally are considered a shorter species, but also not as short as some of the Xaqals you’ve seen in the past.
“Are you trying to sway my mind?” He wonders, opening the cargo door to his spaceship, before he climbs in- noticing how you don’t follow. So he walks back, and has to swallow down a laugh- because you clearly struggle to somehow pull yourself up on the iron steps, which are too high off the ground for you to properly reach with your legs. “...well, at least you won’t take up too much space on the ship.” He mumbles to himself, before he holds onto one of the metal handles on the sides, before he pulls you up by your arm so that you can make it onto the steps, able to finally climb inside.
He’ll adjust the steps in the future. Maybe add one. Or rather three.
Back in the main navigation center of the ship, where your sleeping bag is still laying in front of the front windows, you sit down right there, as if you’ve accepted this spot as your place to exist.
The ship calms after it breaks orbit, softly flying through the empty space while Yoongi sets up the EID tag for you. The electronic identification device opens a new window on his control panel as he places it on the scanner he has, asking for him to input the necessary information- and he looks over at you, where you sit, looking out the window.
“Once I set this up, it can’t just be undone.” He tells you, and you snap your head towards him, before you nod. “Alright.” He mumbles putting in his own information and ID number as your set ‘Employer’- scanning the chip placed onto the bone of his forearm, before he waves you over. “Put your arm here.” He tells you, and you do- though nothing is scanned at all, no matter how you twist or turn your arm. Yoongi’s brows furrow. “Where’s your ID-chip?” He asks, and you perk up, before you turn around, pointing somewhat to a spot on your back.
“My spine- it should be between my shoulders.” You say.
“Spine?” He mumbles, unsure. The spine is not a good spot to place an ID chip, no matter how small it is- it could still dislodge and get in between important nerves or even the vertabrae, causing damage that would be potentially fatal. “Why is it there?” He asks, picking up the scanner to run it over your back- a beep signalling that the chip had been found, and sucessfully read by the device.
“As far as I know, most humans and Yon get it there, because its harder to get out.” You explain, having turned around to curiously watch Yoongi tap away all the info into your future identification. “Because, you know, Humans and Yon are popular Personnel. People would just chop their arms off and exchange it for a prosthetic later after they'd take them and put them up for sale. So to combat that, we get the chip on the spine instead.” You say, and Yoongi cringes to himself, realizing now why he sees so many humans and Yon people with a prosthetic.
“I’ll research any risks to make sure you’re not doing any tasks that might end up immobilizing you.” He mumbles as he finishes up the settings, the red blinking light on the EID tag turning a steady green, signalling that it’s ready to be worn.
“Oh, don’t worry. The chip is attached to the bone, so it doesn’t move.” You inform him, and that reassures him quite a bit, as he nods, and uses quite a lot of force to clip the tag onto the silver collar- metal snapping into place, making it hard to get it off again.
“Alright. Come here.” He tells you, and you almost proudly stand straight, offering your neck to him as he clips the collar around you- electronic lock clicking shut, never to open again for anyone else but him. “Is that alright?” He asks, and you nod, while he tests- slipping two fingers between the metal and your neck, just to make sure it’s not too tight. “Alright.”
“Alright.” You mirror, getting only a mild reaction from him.
“I’ll order some books and electronic information devices for you to study. We’ll pick them up at the next outpost.” He informs you, and you nod, taking this as a signal that you’ve been dismissed- so you walk back to the sleeping bag, sitting down on it to look out the window again.
“Can I.. sleep a bit?” You wonder, and Yoongi nods.
“I don’t need you right now, so you can rest.” He accepts, and at that, you eagerly crawl into the sleeping bag again to sleep once more, giving him a moment to think about what he’d just done.
He blames his instincts, the fact that his kind lives in groups and usually prefers company at all times. Maybe it’s the fact that he actually does need someone to be able to help take care of his health if a job went south. Or maybe, he just can’t shed the way he’s been raised, even though he’s not that kind person anymore. Even still, he feels odd, looking at you asleep in front of those large windows.
Like he just got himself entangled into something a lot more complicated than he believes right now.
#bts imagine#bts fanfic#bts fic#hybrid imagine#yoongi imagine#min yoongi imagines#yoongi imagines#yoongi x reader#bts yoongi imagine#min yoongi imagine#min yoongi x reader
345 notes
·
View notes
Last Seen Blogs
talion507
Без названия
f0fka
F.0.Fka
fuckyeahpoetryslam
Fuck Yeah Poetry Slam!
twsted-simp-writer
we're all mad here
rousscerati
Ameba🌵