#yoongi oneshot | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

borathae · 7 months

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"You accidentally start your period in the middle of the night next to your boyfriend, who just so happens to be a vampire with a way too sensitive sense of smell."

Pairing: Vampire!Yoongi x f.Reader

Genre: established relationship!AU, Smut

Warnings: Hard Dom & very desperate!Yoongi, sub & whiney!Reader, rough sex, she’s a tease, he shows her his truest face, period sex, lotsa period blood, they kiss with her blood on his lips, messy oral (f.receiving), that's the closest you will get to Yoongi drinking her blood, and of course it's nothing but pussy wetting porn, multiple forced orgasms (f.receiving), his demon tongue is making an appearance, squirting, she uses her safeword to get a break and Yoongi gives it to her, then after some bickering and snuggles the fucking continues jsjsj, strength kink, choking (f.receiving), scratching & hair pulling (m.receiving), graphic dirty talk, praise & degradation, they’re both masochists, Yoongi also shows his sadistic side, he calls her slut & brat, but also babygirl & princess, he rails the shit outta her while his face is covered in her blood fjadsf, he has his huge vampire cock out <3, he also talks about pumping her full of his cum, he is so unhinged, I'm telling you this is craziness, this is once again monster fucker smut ehehe, he domdrops but she gives him affection <3, the softest aftercare and both being giggly, this is reason 666 why I want a vampire boyfriend

Wordcount: 5.7k

a/n: This is nothing but pussy madness, I will not apologize. I was in a mood and you guys are gonna bear witness to it. Enjoy this no brain just pussy story 🤪

You have been slumbering peacefully when a harsh shake wakes you.

“No”, you grumble, getting shaken around again mere seconds later.

“___ wake up”, Yoongi’s voice sound stressed.

With a groan, you let him roll you to your back.

“Too sleepy”, you mumble.

“Fucking hell, open your eyes”, he hisses and groans.

At that you open your eyes because Yoongi normally never snaps at you like that. You blink a few times. He turned the nightstand lamp on, giving view to his distressed features.

“What’s wrong?” you ask him.

“I think you should go to the bathroom, princess”, he says, licking his lips.

“Why should I go to the bathroom? You silly kitten, I don’t even have to pee”, you mumble and close your eyes again, settling into the pillow comfortably.

“Go to the bathroom. Please. I can’t bear to be next to you”, Yoongi stresses.

You open your eyes, studying his distressed features.

“I’m confused. What do you mean? Do I stink?”

“On the contrary”, he whispers, croaks even, all while his fingers are digging into your shoulder in a desperate massage.

“You’re so silly”, you mumble, closing your eyes again, “why do you want me to leave when I smell nice?”

“Because you temptatious woman started your period, for fuck’s sake and I currently wanna fucking ruin you”, he hisses the words, not out of anger but pure desperation.

You open your eyes, meeting his blown out pupils and ruby irises.

“Hot.”

“No princess, not hot”, he hisses, “fuck, stop thinking everything is hot. This is serious business.”

“Yeah, bloody serious.”

Yoongi grinds his teeth, sending you an annoyed look. You grin.

“Come on Yoongi, you must admit that joke was good.”

“No. It was terrible. Fuck”, he groans and rolls out bed, “I’m taking a walk. You’re too much.”

You sit up, trying to ignore the wetness between your legs.

“Don’t leave please.”

He turns, giving view to his massive fangs and black veins. You rub your soaked thighs together at the view.

“Please take care of me”, you try.

“Excuse me?”

“Help me clean up, please.”

“Clean it up yourself. You don’t know what I could do to you.”

“I’m sure it’s fun.”

“It’s not.”

“Please?”

Yoongi sneaks a glance at your middle. There is the smallest spot of red between your legs where you leaked. He gulps. He has been around many of your periods. He smelled the change and felt even more drawn to you during those times, but nothing could have prepared him for tonight. When he got forcefully woken up by you starting your period accidentally and soaking the sheets with the sweetest scent he has ever smelled. His head is pounding and his muscles burn from tensing them oh so much. He is so close to losing his mind, feeling on edge.

“Don’t tempt me. Just clean up.”

“Okay”, you say, removing the blanket from your body. It reveals your soaked legs and pussy to his eyes.

The intensity of your scent makes him stumble.

“Fuck”, he barely gets out with all the saliva in his mouth. He throws his hand over his nose, “please close your legs.”

“But it’s so uncomfortable to close my legs”, you whine.

“Stop playing”, he spits, “what do you want from me? Do you want me to break?”

“Maybe?”

“Why?”

“Because I need you”, you part your legs, “need you so bad.”

Yoongi shakes, tenses his body, growls. He is panting heavily, dripping saliva on the floor.

“Please? I can’t do it myself”, you beg, writhing on the sheets sensually.

“Urgh!” he lets out in an angry roar and moves.

He is on top of you, pinning you down with a strong grip and bruising your wrists on accident. It knocks the air out of you, but more than anything it makes you moan and arch into him. You writhe, fighting his grip with minimal effort. It results in his long fingers closing around your wrists tighter and his nose scrunching up as he growls in warning.

“That’s better”, you rasp, eyes glued to his dripping fangs.

“You are the worst ever”, he spits, “why do you have to push my buttons so much?”

“It’s fun”, you give him a little smile, parting your lips as you do.

Yoongi looks at it and squeezes your wrists.

“Are you sure? I’m fucking serious, are you sure?” he asks.

“I’m so sure.”

“Snowdrop’s your only hope, fucking say it the second I get too much”, he lulls the words.

“Yeah okay”, you whisper, parting your legs. You feel how that makes new blood leak out of you and on other nights it would have embarrassed you, but not tonight. Not when Yoongi growls at the scent of it and convulses on top of you as he fights his most natural instincts.

“Fuck”, he presses out and then he is gone from you. One second of nothingness, then his hot mouth is latched onto your pussy.

“Ah!” you squeak out, lifting your head in surprise. You writhe, locking eyes with him.

His brows are furrowed, his hair messy and his eyes dark red. He is pinning you down, watching you like a hunter would its prey. You reach down to twist his hair, but Yoongi breaks away from you.

Your redness covers his lower face messily.

“Holy fuck”, he speaks with two voices in his throat, panting like crazy, “holy fuck, that’s how you taste?”

“Yes?” you act shy on purpose, “is it bad?”

“Shut the fuck up, you know exactly that it’s heaven. Holy fuck”, he spits and grips your legs to open them widely. He digs his strong hands into the back of your knees, forcing your legs to bend and press into the sheets beside you.

The sudden stretch makes you mewl.

“I’m fucking insane for doing this”, he is talking to himself, “this is fucking insane”, he spits and latches himself back onto your pussy.

“Yoongi god”, you mewl, squirming desperately as your legs try to close in instinct. He is swirling his tongue over your messy entrance, lapping up your blood as demonic growls rumble in his throat. He is holding you with such strength that the contact points where his long fingers meet your thighs start to ache. You don’t want him to let go for even one second, arching into him with your toes curling.

Yoongi doesn’t drink your blood. He said so. The fight you had about it still comes back to haunt you sometimes. You know that he would never drink from you. So to have him growl and moan between your legs while his long tongue cleans you messily is the closest you will get to the ecstasy that is offering your blood to him.

And you can’t handle it. You are still so droopy and disoriented from deep sleep and now you have wet, aggressive warmth lapping at your pussy. You arch your back and twist Yoongi’s hair. You can’t handle how good this makes you feel.

“Holy fuck, slow down”, you moan desperately, hating your legs for shaking against your will.

“Shut up”, Yoongi growls into you, pinning your hips down in warning, “I’m not doing that.”

“Yoongi”, you whimper, squirming in his strong hold fruitlessly. He’s got you pinned. No amount of wiggling will free you now. You have to take what he gives you. Even if it borders too much, “holy shit. Oh god, fuck.”

Yoongi uses his entire mouth on your pussy. Now bear in mind, he does that on calm days as well. He’s got the lips for it as well. Soft and pouty, just puffy enough to feel you up and so incredibly hungry for you. He sucks and kisses and grinds against your dripping pussy each time he eats you out, but tonight he is manic in the way he does it. He can’t stop sucking with such vigour that it makes your legs twitch and as he does, he growls deeply, murmuring graphic curses each time he comes up for air.

“This is heaven, this is fucking heaven”, he spits, smothering himself with your pussy as he laps at your entrance again. His button nose grinds against your clit that way, forcing a loud mewl out of you. You smell so good, Yoongi wants the scent to coat every single cell in his nose.

You grip his hair with your second hand as well. Yoongi moans because as much as you try to pull him away, you end up pushing him closer. You fucking love it when he’s rough. You can’t lie to him. Not to him. Not when he’s the only fucking person who can make you moan like this.

“Yoongi please, Yoongi please, Yoongi. Please.”

He knows that you don’t even know what you’re begging for. You just beg when he goes down on you.

Good. Beg.

He fucking loves it when you do. He loves how he ruins you, how he turns you dumb and how he makes you his' without even trying. He just has to swirl his tongue just right and you are moaning his name.

Yoongi furrows his brows and pulls your hips onto his face. Your sweet scent is suffocating him. Your pussy smells heavenly on normal days, but this is insane. This is fucking insane. Yoongi feels delirious, fucking the mattress so harshly that he managed to push down his own briefs. The sheets are grinding against his cock and rubs him sore. It hurts, but he can’t stop. The harsh friction is the only thing keeping him sane. At least a little.

He is very far from being sane right now. He is high on your blood and your pussy. Yoongi wiggles his head and grinds his nose over your clit in sync with his tongue slipping into you.

“N-not this. It’s too good”, you squeak, trying to close your legs but Yoongi forces them open.

“Hey”, he spits, “don’t you fucking dare close them. You fucking hear me?”

You stare at his blackened out eyes and the black veins spanning all the way down to his neck. Even the veins on his neck are darkened, pulsing quickly. The view makes you weak, but nothing ruins you as much as the view of his lower face. Your blood is covering him. Red nectar against ivory skin and black veins. Red lips puffy and pulled back enough to reveal his long fangs to you.

“Yoongi”, you whimper.

“Are we understood?” he spits, pushing your legs apart even more.

You cry up from the stretch, squeezing your eyes shut and throwing your head back as best as possible.

“Yes”, you mewl, “yes, yes, I’m- yes.”

“Good girl. Misbehaving isn’t gonna get you anywhere”, he growls and returns to his favourite spot. He pins you against him and slips his tongue back into your pussy.

“Holy fuck.”

Yoongi agrees with a loud growl. His voice is distorted in pleasure. He abandons one of your hips for the mere purpose of twisting the sheets beside your body. He can’t do it otherwise. This is too much. He is going too far. He knows how wrong it is and yet he can’t stop.

Your blood is covering every inch of his tongue, mixing with your sweet juices and Yoongi doesn’t know how to act. He sees eating your pussy as his favourite feed. He knows pussy doesn’t actually nourish him, but when he is between your legs and fucks your pussy with his mouth, he gets at least enough satisfaction that he feels sated for a few days.

But this is different. This is actually feeding him. Your blood gives him nourishment. It coats his throat and runs through his veins. And Yoongi feels so fucking wrong doing it, but he can’t stop.

He digs for more of your taste, letting his tongue grow in your pussy. It pulsates and throbs as it does. This is the closest you’ll get to feeling a heartbeat from him. His wet, girthy tongue pulsating deep in your pussy as he pumps it into you quickly. This is how alive you make him feel.

“Yoongi”, you moan and sob, “Yoongi, I’m cumming.”

Yoongi doesn’t slow down. Yoongi growls into your pussy like a maniac. Yoongi hate fucks the mattress. Yoongi grinds his nose against your clit. And Yoongi thrusts his pulsating tongue into you until he can’t go any further.

“Yoongi!” you orgasm instantly. Fuck, he is forcing you so hard, making your entire body shake. You whimper and gasp, pulling his hair desperately. Yoongi cares rather little, moving his head against you while his fucked up tongue is fucking into you as deeply as possible. It feels thick and throbbing inside you, curling oh so deep, you wonder if what he is doing to you is healthy.

“Yoongi please”, you sob, writhing on the mattress. Your orgasm burns so deep and he doesn’t give you any chance to recover. He fucks and licks and sucks while his strong hand keeps you pinned to him and his other hand rips the sheets.

It’s not healthy what he does to you. He is aware of how fucking sick it is. He is right at the source, the small spot where your blood leaps out of you. He can’t go any further than that, grinding the flat of his tongue against it quickly but with all the care in the world. He knows that this spot is incredibly sensitive and that one wrong move would end in you hurting instead of shaking. It feels like fire under his tongue. Wet, hot and incredibly soft fire.

“Yoongi please”, and you continue begging, losing your vision from just how far he pushes you. You know that he is deep. You can feel it. It feels almost like too much and yet like not enough.

He presses down on an especially sensitive spot, making your body convulse desperately.

“Yoong- plea- ah!” words aren’t meant to be finished by you. Not when Yoongi forces yet another orgasm out of you. It is short, hotter than fire and so strong you fear you might snap your spine from arching your back so aggressively.

You feel dizzy afterwards. Dizzy, out of breath, close to passing out. And Yoongi isn’t stopping. He fucks his tongue deeper and presses his fingers against your clit to rub her quickly.

“Oh god, no. Holy fuuuck”, you groaned the last word but ended up wailing his name afterwards. Your legs try to close again, Yoongi pushes them open instantly, punishing the mattress in your stead with an angry thrust. He knows you’re sensitive, but he doesn’t like you closing your legs.

You shouldn’t flee from him. This is his feeding time and it’s fucking rude to disturb him when he’s getting high so good that he feels dizzy.

“You demon”, you sob, convulsing on the sheets, “oh god, again. Yoongi, again.”

By now, Yoongi tastes no difference between your orgasm and your normal pussy. He is too delirious to distinguish between those tastes. Everything just fills him with ecstasy. Every single droplet he forces out of you and which coats his throbbing tongue, tastes like pure, concentrated heaven.

But you can distinguish between it. Oh how you can distinguish between it. You can’t breathe and your nerves are so sensitive that your legs ache. You know that you already squirted and your tummy is cramping so hard that it hurts. This is so torturous and you can’t handle another orgasm.

“Snowdrop please”, you beg.

Yoongi shoots up with his tongue normal and his eyes worried. They are dark brown and glassy. His face is sweaty and covered in your blood. The veins disappeared from his cheeks. His state shows you that even if he seemed so out of control, he never was. The master of perfect control rules over his body’s most instinctive nature so well that not even your orgasming, bloodied pussy could break him.

“My princess”, he croaks because eating your pussy like that ruined his voice, “I’m sorry. Did I hurt you?” he asks, wrapping you up in his strong arms. He litters your burning cheeks with tender kisses, rocking you from side to side, “did I hurt you? I’m so sorry, please don’t cry.”

“I’m fine, just…” you assure him, breathing heavily, “...you were a lot.”

“I’m sorry, holy fuck”, Yoongi cradles you against his chest, hiding his face in the crook of your neck, “I feel awful. Why did I do that? I’m so sorry you had to see this, I’ll never show it again.”

“No, you were awesome. It’s just a lot when you fucker don’t even let me breathe between orgasms. Like goddamn, I’m fighting for my life here”, you say, nudging him with the tip of your nose.

Yoongi can’t help but crack up, chuckling quietly. He squeezes you, letting out a terribly fragile whimper of relief.

“So you’re…not disgusted?” he asks quietly.

“Yoongi, I told you…” you lift your head, grinning up at him, “I’m the biggest monster fucker out there.”

His brows shoot up, “are you calling me a monster?”

“Duh? You were definitely one right now. Like look”, you show him your shaking knees, “I’m still shaking.”

He lowers his eyes shyly, “I’m not a monster”, he murmurs so cutely you feel the need to pin him down and smother him in kisses.

“You’re right, you’re my Yoongi Boongie”, you say, giggling happily as you bite into his soft cheek, “my sweetie, mwuah.”

“Your kisses are wet”, he murmurs, melting under you like the happiest sugardrop.

“My pussy’s wet too”, you throw back.

He scoffs, “really?” he sounds annoyed but it’s because he is flustered.

“Yeah. Wanna feel it?”

“But you said it was too much.”

“I’m good again, just want more of you.”

“I don’t know.”

You wrap your fingers around his cock lowering yourself to it so you can grind him right against you. You press him close with the flat of your palm against his cock, hugging his sensitive shaft with your soaked lips.

“Shit, princess”, he gasps, looking down at where you’re grinding against him. You are covered in blood, soiling his cock with it as well. The view makes his cock throb and he hates that it does. He shouldn’t be so weak for this view. He should be above this, he should have stopped caring about shit like this. And yet here he is with a throbbing cock and his chest heaving up and down quickly.

Yoongi growls and grips your hips, squeezing them tightly. You moan at the touch, pressing your dirtied pussy closer. Right where it feels the best for him. It forces him to growl and scrunch his nose up.

“It feels so good, I’m so wet.”

“You’re insatiable.”

“Says the Glutton.”

He frowns, but stops when you grind his frenulum right against your clit, “fuck, princess. Fuck.”

You moan in a high pitched voice, giving him big puppy eyes.

“Are you sure?” he asks.

“So sure. You?”

“Yes.”

“Then stop being a pussy and fuck my pussy.”

“You’re so dangerous”, Yoongi growls, sitting up smoothly. He grips your hips roughly, tugging you closer. Like this you would just have to tilt your head and you could be kissing, “you’re gonna get yourself hurt one day, princess.”

“I’m a masochist. I’m into it”, you only partially joke, painting amusement onto his features.

“Fucking sink down on me before I have to force you”, he rasps.

“Kiss me”, you order.

Yoongi obeys instantly, kissing you deeply. You sink down with a moan, forcing his chest to rumble in a deep groan of total bliss.

“Yes princess, yes”, he encourages you, “shit, you’re so tight. You sure you’re good?”

“Yeah, good”, you promise, shutting him up by tongue kissing him as needily as possible. He tastes like you. Metallic. You shouldn’t like it that much, but you fucking do. You lick into his mouth, twisting his hair.

Yoongi reciprocates it gladly, groaning and sighing deliciously as you begin bouncing on his cock. A growl rumbles in his chest, the kiss breaks because you needed to gasp from the sensation.

“You like that?” he lulls.

“Yes, I ngng”, you mewl, squeezing your eyes shut.

“So tight, your pussy’s so tight”, he chants with his eyes closed in bliss. He is guiding the movements of your hips, tugging and pushing them in a fast, rough rhythm. You should know who fucks you that good, who controls the scene. You may be on top, but Yoongi is the one to conduct every single movement, every single sigh and moan and groan.

“Your cock’s so big, I’m so stuffed”, you tell him, swallowing his needy moan by kissing him again.

You just have to. Breathing may be hard and your hips may stutter because of it, but kissing him is all you need. His lips are addicting, his touch electrifying. His hands run to your lower back, painting goosebumps onto your skin with their touch. His stomach is grinding against your clit just enough that it feels like paradise after the amazing thing he did with his tongue. You’re so sensitive, writhing on top of him at the mere thought of it.

“Oh god”, you break the kiss to whimper, twisting his messy hair desperately. Your hips stutter, your legs shake, “Yoongi, it’s-”

“-difficult. I know”, he finishes your sentence, “I fucking ruined you, huh?” he taunts and grips you under your ass to hold you and thrust into you quickly. This is an easy task for such a monster like him and he is more than will to show you, “tell me how I ruined you. Tell me who tongue fucked your tasty, little pussy so good that you can’t walk now. Fucking tell me.”

“You”, you are sobbing into his neck, hugging him tightly. You have no idea why you decided to ride him because your body is still ruined and you are so weak that Yoongi has to actually hold you, but holy shit whatever demon possessed you, you are grateful for them. This is paradise. Hot, rough paradise, but paradise nonetheless.

“Say my fucking name.”

“Yoongi.”

“That’s it. Fucking say it again.”

“Yoongi!”

“Yes, fuck”, Yoongi growls and changes positions. He pins you down into the sheets, hovering over you with his eyes pitch black again. Your legs are around his waist, bouncing weakly on his back as he drills his cock into you. Your hands open and close on the sheets, having no home to call theirs.

Yoongi takes them and puts them around his neck, pinning you down with just one look.

“Hold onto me and don’t fucking let go”, he orders.

You whimper, spilling tears. You close your fingers around the back of his neck to the point where your nails dig into his skin.

Sharp pain shoots through his body. He growls and rewards you with even harsher thrusts.

“Yes babygirl, hurt me. Fucking make me bleed. Hear me?” he orders, nodding his head, “do you hear me?”

You nod your head with him, whimpering weakly.

“Yeah that’s right. Holy fuck”, he reveals his fangs in a snarl, “I wanna punish you so fucking bad. Look at what you’re doing to me. You disobedient, addictive brat”, he spits and shows you his anger with harsh thrusts and his right hand closing around your throat.

He cuts off most blood flow to your brain, stealing your breath not from contact to your wind pipe but from the mere sensation of having your clarity under the tips of his long fingers.

You begin squeaking, making sure of your promise of making him bleed by scratching down the nape of his neck.

Yoongi closes his fingers further, snarling deeply. You gasp and arch your back, feeling your eyes roll back in ecstasy. You are climaxing again. Yoongi doesn’t give a shit about it, even if you are scratching his back so deeply that parts of his skin gathered under your nail.

“Now you’re understanding, hm?” his voice is distorted in demonic pleasure, “you think you can open your slutty little legs and tempt me with your pussy and get away with it? You’re fucking playing with fire, princess and you know that.”

“Yoon- I-”

“Oh, I’m aware. You think I can’t feel your tight, little cunt throbbing around my cock?” he growls, fucking into you as far as his huge vampire cock allows him to, “but I don’t give a shit. You’re gonna keep cumming for me until I say that you’re done. Understood?”

You sob, writhing uncontrollably.

“Understood?” Yoongi stresses, giving your head a little shake to get you back to him.

Your eyes open and spill hot tears. Your hands close around his strong underarms and squeeze weakly.

“Yes”, you croak.

“That’s it. This is how I want you behaving. Stupid, little girl thinking you can push my buttons. Fuck, you piss me off”, he spits and lets go of your neck.

Blood shoots back to your head, forcing you to scream up because it causes the most aggressive and harsh chain reaction, forcing you to orgasm around his huge cock.

“Cum for me. Yes princess. Fucking cum for me, you bratty slut”, he encourages you, straightening up as he talks so he can lift your leg and twist you just enough that he can give it to you from the back.

You are resting on your tummy halfway, feeling dizzy. Your hips are lifted, your leg is bent around his waist and held by him. Your face is still visible to him as he twists your body into a slightly unnatural position. He knows you can take it. His left hand slips to your clit and begins rubbing circles into her. You sob and kick the air, twisting the sheets as he rearranges your insides.

“You’re so fucking good on that pussy shit”, he moans, staring down at you with his black veins spanning all the way down to his pecs. They cover his arms as well, throbbing each time he pulls your hips back onto his cock. Speaking of cock. The black veins are pulsating all over his girthy shaft as well, but you currently can’t see that.

You can’t see anything other than stars and unnamed colours. But Yoongi can see them. Their colour shines through the thick layer of blood which covers him. It’s so wet and red. It’s covering your inner thighs and ass, turning his lower body into a total mess as well.

Fuck, Yoongi feels his balls tighten at the view. He slips his hand to your ass and spreads it so he can see your stuffed pussy move around his dirtied cock. The view makes his head spin. He swore to never engage in these fucked up nights again. He spent too many centuries ruining his body with blood, sex and senseless drinking and now here he is, covered in your pretty blood and with his head pounding in pleasure. He is fucked up and the most fucked up part of it all was that he loved it.

He loves the view, loves the feeling of your hot, wet pussy and loves the honest moans he forces out of you.

“You’ve got me fucking faded for you, princess”, he growls, fucking your clit against the sheets with each harsh thrust. His vision is blurry because of how tight you become around him, “fucking faded…holy fuck, you feel so good.”

“Yoongi, again.”

“I know. Cum for me.”

“Oh god”, you croak and break around him. You can’t even make sounds at this point. The orgasm feels so good, but hurts so much. Your body is fucking ruined. It can’t even shake anymore, laying limp as fire consumes you. Holy fuck it feels so good.

“Fucking fuck princess, I’m cumming”, Yoongi moans deeply, throwing his head back, “fuck, princess. Take my fucking cum. Ah!”

His cock begins throbbing in your tight pussy, filling you with his cream. His hips move sloppily, his hands can barely hold you because of how weak you got him.

“Yes ___”, he moans, “take my cum. Shit, you’re mine.”

“Yoongi”, you whimper, looking up at him under your tears. He looks so good when he orgasms. His body is all sweaty and his hair is soaked in it as well. His pale skin shows flushes of pink, paths of black veins and patches of your burgundy blood. He is so messy and it’s fucking incredible to look at.

“___, my love”, Yoongi croaks and falls onto his hands. Like this, he is panting above you, looking down at you with his ebony hair framing his sweaty face. Remnants of your blood are still sticking to his cheeks, dissolving into faint red streaks under the sweat.

Your eyes meet. You are breathless and dizzy. Yoongi is fighting for air as well, feeling aching yearning for you. He makes sure to slip out of you carefully, watching your expression for any sign of discomfort. He doesn’t find any, which makes him ache for you all the more.

“My love”, he presses out and picks you up in his arms to pull you into a deep kiss.

You kiss him back, hooking your arms behind his head. This feels so good to do. He is so gentle and tender, reminding you just how wonderful it is to be loved by him.

“Oh, my love”, Yoongi chokes out, littering your face with kisses, “my love. My love, how are you? Are you okay?”

“Yeah, so okay”, you whisper, melting in his gentle hands, “I’m dizzy, but okay.”

“That’s so good to hear. Holy fuck, my love. I’m so proud of you. You did so, so well”, Yoongi praises you and cradles you against his chest. You sit down on his lap to make it even more intimate, leaning into him with all your weight.

Yoongi holds you gladly, rocking your bodies from side to side slowly. He wants to hug you tighter and tighter, yearning for your warmth and the softness of your skin.

“Good job, oh my love”, he shudders as he exhales, “fuck, I’m anxious.”

“Why?” you gasp, hugging him tighter. You can’t lift your head. It’s impossible. You feel so weak from the amazing sex you just had.

“That you hate me. I was so rough.”

“No, don’t”, you say, pressing his head close with your hand in his hair, “I would have said my safeword again if I didn’t want it. You were amazing.”

“I can’t do rough”, he confesses and exhales shakily, “fuck, I’m so upset. I’m sorry for being so rough.”

“Yoongi, my love”, you lift your head even if it is hard. You cup his cheeks and make him look into your eyes, “please don’t apologise. You have no reason to feel guilty because I don’t feel bad. I’m not hurting and I fucking loved what you did.”

“Really?”

“Yes. Really”, you kiss his forehead, “and if you worry that your true face is disgusting, it’s not. You are so beautiful, my love.”

He lowers his eyes shyly. Takes a deep breath. Exhales.

“Thank you”, he whispers, “I needed to hear this.”

“Of course. It’s the truth.”

Yoongi looks up at you. You can watch how his eyes fill with unbreakable and soul-consuming love for you. And then Yoongi picks you up and places you into the sheets to attack your face and neck with kisses. He makes sounds as he does. Like a little kitten eating good food.

It makes you giggle and squeak because of how good he makes you feel.

Yoongi lifts his head, giggling with you. You and he look into each other’s eyes. Oh how deeply you are connected.

Yoongi grins, “sorry for messing up your face”, he says, wiping at the bloody kiss marks he left all over it, “you look ruined.”

“You’re covered in blood too”, you say, “it would explain why your kisses had a slight metallic taste to it.”

“Yeah”, he laughs breathily, “fuck. I can’t believe I did that. This was fucking sick.”

“It’s not. You didn’t bite me and I wasn’t in pain at all. Allow yourself that little treat.”

“Little treat?” he widens his eyes, “princess, this wasn’t a little treat. I just drank your blood from your pussy. You think this is a little treat?” he furrows his brows, “I feel faded. This was insanity.”

You snicker, tracing his pouty lips.

“And you loved it. Be honest.”

He huffs out air, sagging his shoulders in defeat.

“You’re the worst person ever”, he murmurs, “why are you so…so…so”, he cups your face and shakes it gently, “I have rules for myself, rules I’ve been following for millennia. Stop making me break them. You have to stop being so addictive. Do you hear me?”

You laugh, “mhm no”, you say, scrunching your nose up, “you gotta deal with it for eternity.”

“Fuck princess love”, he gets out and drops down on you, snuggling his nose into the crook of your neck, “I wanna be mad at you, but how can I when you’re so cute?”

You giggle, hugging him tightly.

“You’re cute too.”

“Mhm”, he hums and squeezes you, “I didn’t clean you up at all. My bed’s a mess.”

“I know”, you laugh, “you kinda managed to make it stronger too. It’s been leaking out of me ever since you’re lying on me.”

“Sorry, that’s probably my cum too”, he says and puts more of his weight on your tummy.

“Yoongi stop”, you squeak in laughter, “you’re making me leak.”

Yoongi laughs and does it again.

“Stop. It’s so wet and yucky”, you complain, spanking his butt gently.

Yoongi snickers, “sorry”, he says, shifting his weight, “it’s funny to mess with you.”

“Wah so mean”, you mumble.

He chuckles and kisses your cheek, “I’ll run you a hot shower, yeah? It’s the least I can do after ruining you.”

“I’d like that, my love. But only when you’re taking the shower with me.”

“Yeah, I’d like that.”

You and Yoongi sleep in your bed after washing up, cuddling and kissing until you both fall asleep. The next morning, Yoongi is gone from bed and you wake up to breakfast waiting for you on a tray on the bedside table, a small basket filled with period products next to it and a note telling you that he was in his wing cleaning the bed and that he can’t stop thinking about last night.

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jiminrings · 17 days

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

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bangficsx · 1 month

Text

PEACE OF HEART

pair : Yoongi x reader (f.) word count : 6.7k+ genre : arrange marriage (a healthy type), they're just exploring married life...., smut, fluff

warnings : depression, anxiety, fingering, orgasms, protected intercourse, dirty thoughts, (tell me if there's anything else)

As the plane finally takes off after a delay of more than an hour, Yoongi sighs in relief. He looks at you, who sits beside him, his beautiful wife. Everytime he looks at you he can't stop appreciating how beautiful you are.

You smile at him a bit then take your book out from your bag. Yoongi watches you trying hard to ignore his presence and focus on the ink on paper.

He wants to talk to you and thinks of different ways for how to initiate a conversation with you without disturbing. At last he decides on one and executes it. Coughs loudly and grabs your attention. You keep your book down and pass him the water bottle. He thanks you and you rub his back gently.

"You alright?" You ask and he nods.

"I downloaded that movie you were talking about" he says looking at you.

"Oh.. past lives?" You ask and he nods.

"Should I put it on?" He asks.

"Can I read for like just five minutes more? I'm at a very crucial part of the story..." you ask picking your book up again, unable to resist the urge to know what happens next.

"Sure" Yoongi says trying to read what you were reading. He really did want to read the same books as you and the ones you love and get to know you better.

You and Yoongi got married three days ago.

You both had known each other for three years now. You both were introduced to each other by your parents, talked often through texts. And soon realised you both weren't seeing anyone so you gave it a shot and went out on a date.

Your sister accidentally revealed the secret to your parents and they kept bugging you for two years to get married. After much deliberation and discussion, you both realised that you did like each other, your visions and goals aligned and hence, the possibility of a successful marriage seemed quite appealing.

You both weren't very dating oriented people, didn't like to fuck around or have relationships which would have no future. Instead you both had an unconventional idea of it all, that you'd meet someone like-minded, take things from there. Even marriage wasn't something you had dreamt a lot about. Although it did feel nice to walk down the aisle, and when you look in his eyes you have a feeling you are with the right person.

And when he looks at you, you know that he's falling for you and you... you have already fallen for him for a long time now.

There's a trust that you have on him, a bond of security which you know he won't violate. You both gave the honeymoon a chance to bring you two closer.

You finally opened up your mind after many pep talks by your sister who is married with two kids and trying for another, and firmly decided that you will not try to close yourself around him and try to be secretive.

Your sister got married with a man she'd known for only a year yet she was living a peaceful, mostly happy life with him.

You'd decided if things happen you won't try to unnecessarily resist and let them just flow.

You notice how he's trying to keep his hand in a position where it can lead to you touching his. To make things a little bit easier, you keep it on the center handrest between your two seats. After a minute, his hand rests beside yours. His elbow rubs on yours. He touches your hand with his pinky finger. Slowly his hand inches farther and covers yours completely.

You struggle to fight from blushing too hard, it only gets harder with the butterflies that flutter inside your tummy.

You intertwine your fingers with his. He audibly giggles for a second in excitement but then he tries to suppress it and looks here and there.

"Yoongi" you call him. "Look at me" you ask and he slowly turns his face towards you.

"Are you happy? If anything bothers you... we can talk" he says then brings his other hand towards your face and tucks your hair behind your ear. Finds that the earrings he had gifted you adorn your earlobes.

It was awkward on your wedding night. Your sister brought you two to your room before most people left and he was quite drunk, you were too so you two just slept. Him on the floor with a blanket laid beneath him and you on the bed. You would've argued about the arrangement but were too tired and drunk to do.

"No Yoon this is nice... really nice" you let him know your thoughts, no false pretensions in front of him.

He smiles before he picks your tangled fingers up and kisses your knuckles.

"I agree" he tells you with a smile.

"Wanna put on the film now?" You question and he brings the iPad out from his backpack. You both put on your headphones and play the movie.

The film breaks you, yet heals you in a way. You feel like if you were meant to find Yoongi too, you just feel that way about him that you two were meant to be. You were bound to somehow end up with him. In your eyes he was your perfect guy, your Mr. Right. Maybe he did have his flaws but you knew he was more than just his flaws.

You both mustn't have been in crazy kind of love yet you two knew that you were if not perfect but right for each other. It was in each other that you two finally found someone who understood.

At the end of the movie you received your food package. He ate your pickle for you, you eat his salad for him and that's how you know you two are perfect for each other.

When you wake from your nap, head cozily rested on Yoongi's shoulder you find that you were about to reach your destination in an hour.

You let Yoongi sleep for a little more as he was still in deep slumber. Get the chance to catch up with your reading again.

He likes how when he opens his eyes, the face he looks at is yours. The scent he sniffs beside him is yours.

"We're going to reach soon. You wanna freshen up?" You tell him. He looks around, there was still some time left to go to the restroom and he quickly left.

He comes back in a few minutes and you both watch the landscape outside as the plane starts to go downwards and the islands come in your sight.

"I'm so excited to spend the next five days here" he says, "with you" he quickly adds.

"Me too" you tell him touching his cheek.

The driver takes you both to your hotel after you pick up your luggage. The hotel was a bit far from the sea but it had a beautiful view from the room you both were given. It was quiet and surrounded by nature and small houses as opposed to the city view with skyscrapers that you two were used to.

The apartment that you two had shifted in gave a full view of the city from it's glass pane walls. Your living room especially and the way you had arranged your sofa set gave you the chance to relax while watching the world go on.

You wanted to not think about work, or home right now and allow yourself to completely immerse in the calmness of the island you were currently on.

You watch Yoongi help the housekeeper bring in your luggage and keeps it near the bed. He closes the door behind you then sits on the bed.

"You need anything?" He asks as he wipes off the sweat from his face.

"Nah I'm good. You?" You ask him instead. If he can take care of your needs, you can take care of his too.

"I'm so fucking tired... it wasn't that long a flight... my thirties are hitting me hard I guess..." he chuckles and you do too.

"We need to get a proper meal and then you'll be good. I'm sure" you say, he giggles.

"You wanna take a nap or go out?" He asks. He pulls his jeans down without any second thought. You know that he feels comfortable around you, you're his wife and he has no shame in front of you. Still you look away even though he's not fully naked.

He wears more comfy trousers and a matching t-shirt with it.

"Let's go out. We can always sleep later" you say. You open your shared suitcase and take a dress out from it. You had it all planned out which dress to wear on which day and the whole itinerary was already decided too.

Yoongi waits for you when you change in the bathroom. You put on some lotion on your hands and some lipbalm too... just in case things happen...

You somehow get how Yoongi feels towards you when you look in his eyes. His intentions are pretty straightforward. He does have expectations out of your marriage. He wants companionship and intimacy that should be present in a marriage.

You feel grateful for the full body treatment that your sister gifted you which included a full body wax, polishing and what not. Although you know Yoongi would love you no matter what.

It's not that you don't have the same expectations out of him. You aren't as blunt as him in your approach towards him, you get shy and hesitate a bit.

You love him.

He's your brightest star on a new moon night. He's your sunshine that appears after dark, gloomy, cloudy days which don't seem to go away.

You never knew if you were ever going to find love. If there was someone who would like you, understand you and somebody in whom you would find the qualities you looked for in a man. Yoongi was that guy for you.

He doesn't even knows how he's helping you heal your heart. Seven years ago you were in a situationship which lasted too long and left you so broken you didn't have it in yourself to look for love again.

And then your path crossed with Yoongi's. And now you both walked hand in hand on the same path together.

You walk closely with Yoongi when a guy working with the hotel tells you both to check the pool out. They had just completed cleaning it and with the current weather it would be a fun experience to hang out there.

He takes you towards the pool, hand in hand you like being like this him. With every passing second you just feel yourself getting closer to him.

But when you two reach there you look at yourself and then look around. Most people present were in swimsuits and you two were covered with t-shirts and jeans.

"It's too tempting... everyone seems to be having so much fun" he says with a hand on his waist as he looks around at couples and friends playing around in the water. Another excuse to just get closer to you.

"There are changing rooms over there. Should I just grab a pair of clothes from the room?" You ask him. Have always liked water too much to be able to resist.

"You wait here I'll go..." he quickly turns around.

"Hey no... you said you were tired. Just tell me what you need" you insist and he gives in.

"Blue shorts. Towel." He tells you and you smile at him before leaving with the key card.

Rummaging through the luggage you find his towel but not the shorts. You look under the shirts but the only thing you find is two boxes of condoms and a bottle of lubricant. It makes you gasp and smirk at the same time. He came prepared.

The topic of contraception had once come up between the two of you not about what you would personally use but more so as how it's usually considered a woman's duty than a mutual concern. And how most forms of hormonal birth control have side effects and how you once developed a nasty rash after taking the pill to delay your period for your sister's wedding.

The topic of kids had been discussed well in advance. You both wanted kids but maybe after some time, right now you had to focus on more important things.

You just keep the things where they were placed before and try to find the shorts that you found in between the shirts. You take a bralette and a pair of shorts for yourself. Wonder if Yoongi will like it, you're kinda sure that most of the men and their minds work the same.

You find Yoongi sitting on a bench waiting for you to come. He walks upto you when he sees you.

You both change when you step out his gaze does change but you see how he's trying to be respectful.

He goes inside the pool first then holds your hand and helps you come in although you insist you're fine.

"You know I learnt how to swim when I was like 4 so you needn't worry about me" you assure him and he smiles.

You show him that you do remember what you learnt by swimming around. He joins you and you both go to another corner and come back.

You talk about the weather and the food and some silly memories from your swimming lessons and have a good laugh.

You look around trying to capture everything with your eyes, remember it all. Your eyes see something disgusting and you immediately turn towards him and hold his arm.

"Hey... what happened" he gets flustered at your sudden change of expression.

"That man in the red boxers... he just touched himself looking at me, like he was smiling at me in such a creepy way... god" you sigh trying to get the sight out of your head.

"I'm gonna fucking break all of his teeth" Yoongi tries to walk upto the man and confront him but you stop him.

"We're in a foreign country I don't want you to get in trouble because of me... our honeymoon's just started..." you hold him while he fumes with anger.

"I don't care.." he says.

"Yoongi... kiss me" you say.

"What?" He's taken aback by your request.

"Nobody will dare look at me then" before you complete speaking his lips are on yours.

Although it happened all of a sudden yet you feel the urge to deepen it. His hold on you grows tighter. You keep a hand on his cheek.

He smiles in between the kiss, you do too. It wasn't exactly your first kiss, you had kissed him once a couple years ago after a really romantic date when he dropped you off near your house.

This felt different. Now you actually have feelings for him, stronger than before. And the way he's kissing you, it tells you he has too.

"We can't get out of the pool without doing this..." you get away from him and splash water at him.

He pretends to be angry which makes you back off but he splashes water at you too, giggling. You try to get away but he's quick to catch you.

Your back hits his chest when he holds you from behind. His bare chest.

"You can't run away anymore" he whispers in your ear. Your stomach growls audibly.

"Let's get out and grab something to eat" you know you can't deny now that he knows you're hungry.

When you two eat, he holds your hand when you keep it on the table. Your legs touch under the table. You crave to touch him more but you are very aware of where you are sitting.

"Yoongi..." you take his name in a gentle tone.

"Hmm?" He hums in response while chewing.

"Do you think it's possible to love someone without knowing everything about them?" You ask, presenting your dilemma to him.

"Maybe. And we can't really know anyone like 100%. There's always some parts unknown to us. We can only know what they tell us and trust them that they're telling us the truth. I don't think it's necessary..." he tells you. You see the glint of hope in his eyes wondering if it's him that you love.

He takes your doubts away with his words. You were skeptical if what you thought was right. Maybe you didn't know everything about him but maybe you knew just enough to be able to love him. You wonder if he loves you too.

When he's not looking at his food mostly his eyes stay focused on you. He's absolutely mesmerised with you.

It was about to be time for the sun to set. You decide to go to the beach and witness it together, the meeting of the sun and the sea over the horizon.

It makes you giddy how he refuses to walk without your hand in his. A simple act yet it makes you feel so close to him.

You walk barefeet with him along the shore. The sea washes your feet again and again. Yoongi keeps his arm draped over your shoulders while you keep yours on his back. People look at you and smile. Old people reminisce the days of their lost youth. Young people envy how you two are so undeniably, deeply in love. People want to be in the place you're in.

As the sun comes down to meet the sea, so do Yoongi's lips to meet yours. You smile as he kisses you. You were at a fairly empty and quiet spot, just the two of you.

He makes you sit down and wraps his arm around your shoulder, you rest your head on his chest as you two watch the most beautiful sunset, more beautiful with your life partner by your side.

You pick his hand, the one resting on his knee. You caress his knuckles. Even his hands are a work of art. And you get to hold them.

You look up at him as he watches the sunset then looks at you and grins. You press your lips near his and whisper "I love you Yoongi"

His eyes sparkle when you tell him those words. The words you'd been contemplating about for so long and finally had the confidence and courage to tell him.

He touches his lips on your forehead and says the same thing. "I love you too baby" he tells you. You feel goosebumps run in your body, your heart rate speeds up, you have the widest smile on your lips. It feels surreal to you yet feels like you've known it for so long.

His hand rests really close to your ass as you two walk back to your room and you oddly find it familiar. It helps that you have trust in him, that's just the way you are, you don't get to a physical level with anyone you can't trust with your life. He is the one. The one you love, you trust, you respect. Your husband.

When you reach the room, you can sense the impatience in him as much as it exists in you. He quickly puts in the card and you are quicker to get inside and lock the door behind you.

You remove your sandals and he follows you removing his shoes. He walks towards the mini fridge under the television. He takes a bottle of whiskey out.

"Want this?" He shoots the question towards you.

"Yep" you purse your lips.

You know he's just hesitant to make the first move. He's just worried if you would think he's desperate or impatient. He wants you to be ready as you both weren't physically intimate in anyway before.

Although you know it doesn't has to necessarily be that way, people have sex with people they might've met not even two hours ago. It just doesn't seems to work that way for you. But now that you know him, you have feelings for him a part of you wants it. To be intimate with him, close with him, have a connection with him which you've never had with anyone else nor do you want to have with anybody other than him.

In this moment, its just him that occupies your mind. You don't worry about your problems, your endless work, your upcoming exam for a promotion at work.

Most of the times you're overwhelmed with unnecessary worries and what ifs. What if your marriage doesn't works out, what if your husband isn't happy with you, what if you lose your job suddenly, what if you become prey of some financial scam, what if your husband loses his job, what if you can't have a kid, what if even if you have one you can't be a good mother or be unable to provide them the best education and opportunities. And what not. The list is endless.

But with Yoongi by your side, you feel a little bit of that pressure being lifted off from your shoulders. You know together you'll both figure it all out somehow.

You sit on the edge of the bed where Yoongi brings you the glass of alcohol and sits beside you. You sit closer to him and run your hands through his hair.

He kisses you and slowly slides his tongue in, you both taste like whiskey. You like the way he tastes, the way he feels, the way he smells, his musty cologne, his shiny hair.

You both can't resist things from heating up. His hand slides down your back and rests on your hips before he pushes you closer towards himself. Your thumb runs on his neck. You feel how his breaths get heavy, so do yours. You're panting as you're getting aroused.

Eventually you straddle him. He keeps pulling you closer no matter how much you are. But then he pulls away...

"Hey..." you look at him with a grave look. "If you don't want me to do any thing you can tell me. Don't feel like you're obligated to me because I'm your husband. I know how your mind works sometimes..." he caresses your hair while he speaks.

"Yoongi I told you what I feel... my love is not like platonic. This is kinda natural don't you think..."

"I just want to be your safe place. I want to be where you find peace. You give me that and I wanna give you that too. Look there were many things that led me to my decision of marrying you. When I'm with you... I've never felt this way before... I will love you till the end of this life but I want you to love yourself equally... growing up i saw my mother and aunts losing themselves in devotion to their husband and families. I don't want that for you... it's natural to have some expectations. But I'll never expect you to put me before yourself." You focus on him, your whole attention placed on him. You respect the way he gives importance to communication.

"Give yourself an hour each day. I'll give myself time too. Even if we have just an hour, let's just divide it and give half to ourselves and half to each other." You nod smiling at him.

"Thank you for choosing me Yoongi. I know that you had even better prospects. I wasn't your parent's first choice for you. But I'm glad that I found you and that I chose you..." you put kisses on his face. "I love you" You tell him before kissing him.

You pull apart for a few seconds just to say, "And I want it... like all of it"

"What do you mean?" He asks.

"You know what I mean" you say.

"Okay" he gives your ass a little squeeze pulling you towards himself to let you know how fucking hard he is. You're surprised too by how aroused you'd made him without even doing anything.

"Just a little thing I should let you know.. umm" you hesitate a bit. He looks at you concerned.

"This is my first time" you bite your lower lip. You have no idea what he must think, virginity at your age wasn't exactly usual.

"Okay" he says. "I'll keep that in mind. We can take it slow and easy. Don't worry" you smile at him before you cover his face with kisses. He giggles.

He pulls the strap down from your shoulders as he plants kisses on your neck. You know with the way he's sucking, he's gonna leave marks. You don't mind it. The matching rings on your fingers are enough to indicate who has done that to you.

You feel his hard on pressing against your thigh and grind on it a little as he goes down kissing your cleavage.

You'd been skeptical about how you would feel in this moment but now you know it isn't something you'd trade with anything else. You love the feeling, the way pleasure builds up inside you, the way wetness pools between your thighs.

You can't control and moan when he cups your breast. You try to find something to hold onto. You want to have direct contact with his skin too.

Hence, you unbutton his shirt. He removes it and gives you access to his bare chest. He tugs on your dress wishing for it to not be there. You part from him to remove it, get rid of your bra too.

He can't control himself when he looks at your bare breasts. He gets you to lie on the bed and cups your breast before wrapping his mouth around it. You moan loudly as his tongue flicks your nipple. His thumb circles on the other.

Your clit throbs igniting an urgent desire in you to touch yourself or be touched there.

Yoongi takes his time with your tits. He palms himself for a second before he grabs both your breasts and rubs your nipples with the thumbs. His mouth alternates in between them both. Has you arching your back and moaning so loud and you still have your underwear on.

It's not long before he pulls his jeans down and comes to the bed just in his boxers which leave you in surprise over how big he is. You just want to pull them down and suck him off. It looks fucking painful for him yet he manages.

"You wanna remove what's left together?" He asks, trying to find every possible way he can keep things easy for you. You nod.

He stands up from his place but his eyes stay on your body. You rub yourself a little from above your panties.

"I used to think we would wait for a couple months before doing this... I was so wrong I can't control how much I want you Yoon... I just can't" you say as you pull your panties down exposing your wet, messy pussy to him. You throw them on the floor, he does the same with his boxers.

You see his cock, hard and absolutely ready to fuck you, be buried inside you. You wonder how it would feel to touch it, have it in your mouth, in your pussy maybe even your ass someday... how it would look spilling, shooting sperm all over you. How gorgeous Yoongi might look as he comes, writhes with pleasure lying underneath you.

He gets the same dirty thoughts about your pussy. Wonders about the scent of it, the taste of it, how it would feel around his cock, how pretty it would look filled with his cock, his sperm, as it orgasms, if it can squirt. How tight, and wet and warm it must be. How quickly he might nut once he's inside it. He feels like he's going to come just by looking at it.

You touch your clit to tease him. He feels a rush of blood in his body as he watches you, your finger slowly stroking your clitoris.

Your moans echo in his ears. What he wouldn't give up to keep hearing them.

He joins you on the bed above you. His mouth meet yours again and this time he's much more passionate. His hand reaches between your thighs.

"Is this okay?" He asks and you hum in response.

He keeps rubbing your clit the way you were doing it.

"Yoongi... faster" you request and he obeys instantly.

"You know.. it might be better if I finger you first..." he hates to interrupt how much pleasure you were in. Still he asks first.

"Do it" you say, already close to an orgasm.

He covers his fingers in your juices before the tips of his fingers reach your entrance. He taps around before he slowly begins to insert his finger inside your cunt.

"And don't you dare to try faking it in front of me... okay?" He says faking an intimating voice.

He tries to find your g-spot after he has given you a few pumps. His fingers stroke against walls but he fails to find the exact spot again and again.

"Help me" he says.

"How?" You ask just to tease him.

"Where does it feels good?" He presses on a spot which makes you feel like you wanna pee and that's how you know he found it. You mostly just do clitoral when you're masturbating so it's mysterious to you too.

"Do you masturbate?" He asks out of nowhere.

"Why do you ask?" You enquire before answering.

"It helps one know their bodies better and what they like" he says.

"I did but mostly just external..." you tell him.

"There?" He asks when you moan and you nod as he presses the rough patch.

You grow wetter and wetter and it gets easier for him to finger you. You see his cock all engorged and leaking precum. So you move your hand down and wrap your hand around his shaft. Circle your thumb on the tip. He pants harder as you continue. His finger moves faster. But you wanna be coming around his cock.

"Yoongi... condom please" you say leaving hold of him and he pulls his fingers out too.

He stands up and walks to the suitcase. You watch his bare, sculpted back as he walks naked around the room, not ignoring his hard cock slapping against his stomach. He takes one box out and brings it to you. Also the bottle of lube.

"I've heard it helps women if they're on top the first time" he says waiting for your response before taking his position.

"Let's try then" you say before you sit up. He lies down beside you and you straddle him with a smirk.

You open the box of condoms and take one out while he keeps massaging your breasts. You rip the wrapper and hand it to him. You want to try putting it on him but you don't know if you would do it the correct way. And you need it to be used properly as that's your only option of protection right now.

You gently caress his balls while he rolls the condom on his dick. You pick up the lubricant and pour some on your palm.

"Uhh... Yoongi" you ask if you can do it. And he gives you an expression of assurance.

You're both grown ups, married, who cares how many times you fuck and in what ways and at what time. You have no reason to delay if you are both ready.

You spread the liquid all over his length, massaging him. Inside you are a bit worried how long and thick he is and if it'll hurt you too much. But you know that it's Yoongi and he would never mind if you fail to do it the first few times... you could always suck him off and finish in other ways.

"Okay then..." you take a deep breath as you shift to sit above him. You rub your pussy on his dick for a bit but then notice him twitching and the look on his face tells you he's having a hard time controlling himself.

He keeps his hands on your waist and stares at your cunt glisten with juices. He cups you and rubs you before you hold him to slide on him. He holds himself while you watch his cock slowly get inside you.

Both your gazes are stuck at one place. Your bodies connecting. You shift a little and take more of him inside you. He keeps his hands on your breasts, a thumb pressed on your clit to have you distracted from any pain.

You wince as you feel your pussy stretching like you've never been stretched before. His cock throbs inside you, trapped within your tight walls. He's using everything in him to not just fuck you hard. No matter how much he wants to, he would never do that while you're certainly in pain.

"Aah fuck..." you cry out as you take him in completely. It feels good yet it hurts. He's big. He's thick.

"Oh god Yoongi..." you try to move but it hurts to do.

"We can stop." he says.

"Yoongi it'll hurt again... I wanna be done with the pain right now... Once I come I dint think it'd really matter" you tell him. You're not backing off just because of the pain. You know it's just the matter of a first couple times and then you'll both have fun.

You lean down to kiss him.

"Make yourself cum right here" he whispers in a sexy tone.

You sit up and circle your finger on your clit. Yoongi spreads your pussy lips for you. The direct touch on your clit makes you flinch but it also brings an intense sensation to you. You increase the pace how your finger moves.

Yoongi circles your nipples before his thumbs come back to where they were. Your orgasm builds inside you, threatening to take control of your body. And you lose it... you come hard.. your whole body trembles, you start to bounce on his cock riding your high. The way your walls clench around him almost make him come. It was already hard for him regardless.

He moans as your movements don't cease. But the overstimulation doesn't helps.

"Let's switch positions" you tell Yoongi and he's quick in the way he rolls you over and takes his position above you. His cock slides you as you two move, there's a funny sound but you two don't even care.

He pumps himself a couple times before his tip meets your hole again. He pushes himself inside your tight cunt. He slips in easily with how you had loosened after the orgasm and all the lube and wetness help him too.

Luckily, the pain had been replaced with unbearable pleasure. Pleasure of such intensity that makes you want to scream. You feel thankful that it went away so quickly.

His fingers tangle with yours. You hold him tightly before he pulls them away. He kisses your neck, your breasts, your chest.

Yoongi builds a rhythm of how his cock again and again disappears into your pussy. He wanted to kiss it, lick it so badly. Make it come all over his tongue. The thoughts go away as all his attention moves towards his cock which twitches, his balls tighten. His tip keeps rubbing on your g-spot but it's irregular. You know he can't feel it with the condom on.

Another curiosity builds up inside you about how he would feel without a condom. You start to think about when your period is due and figure out the date when you could go raw.

You stroke your clit trying to chase the second orgasm that's building up inside you. You know he doesn't minds, even enjoyed watching you touch yourself.

His pace increases and so does yours. You squeeze his ass as he moans and gasps with how close he is. "Cumming... cumming!" He declares as his thrusts stop and his body shakes. You know he is ejaculating as you feel his cock pulsing, throbbing. You wonder how it would feel to have him come inside you, fill you up.

His orgasm is intense indicated with the way he struggles to move afterwards and remove the condom which he kinda hates at this moment. All he wants to do is hug you, hold you.

As soon as he's done, he quickly lies beside you. You run a hand through his hair, he kisses your neck, your shoulder. His hand reaches between your thighs, even in the daze of his own high he hasn't forgotten that you didn't finish. You spread your legs for him. Spread your labia like he'd done for you.

He lazily rubs you, then puts two of his fingers inside, with how aroused you were your g-spot was easier to find and after a few minutes you orgasm again. Throwing your head back, arching your back, squeezing your breast, holding his hand, moaning his name. You come because of him.

Tell him how much you love him and he tells you he loves you more.

Feeling absolutely fucked out, you two don't even look at the clock and close your eyes, just lying in each other's embrace. You keep a hand over his abdomen.

The only person you ever held like this in bed was your mother until you were five and slept in your own bed.

You feel an unmatched safety in his embrace. You know from now onwards you won't be alone when life hits you hard. On days you feel more depressed, which used to be so hard to get through all alone. He's gonna hold you and you're gonna hold him. And you can tell him anything and he can too.

Adjusting into your new life was made easy with Yoongi's love. He never tried to get away from doing half of the chores.

Soon you both figured out a routine that suited you. One for the weekdays when you both worked. One for the weekends when you both stayed home.

You got to know each other's friends. Got to know each other better than ever.

He knew exactly how to cheer you up when you felt depressed. And you knew all the ways to help him cope with stress.

You two were imperfect in your own ways but together you were better.

You grew to love the life you had each day.

Mornings spent listening to the news and drinking coffee with him, running late than showering together.

You had days of the week divided with tasks, who would cook breakfast, pack lunch, do laundry, cook dinner, do dishes, clean.

You spent weekends messing around with him in the kitchen and cooking and cleaning. And when you two ended up in bed you always somehow lost track of time.

If the days were spent quiet and peacefully, then you and your husband would go wild in the night, confined in your room alone but not alone.

And where three months went away you just don't understand. Scrolling on your phone at pictures of you two from the last quarter, your smile doesn't seems to fade.

You stand in front of your sleeping husband. He doesn't knows how his peace is about to be disrupted. You should've known something would come your way with how smooth sailing your life had been for a while. You had deluded yourself into thinking maybe your fate had changed for better.

How foolish of you to think your life could ever go smoothly.

You sit down beside him and run your fingers through his hair. He complains wishing to not wake early on a weekend.

"Yoongi" you call him and he immediately knows from your tone that it's urgent.

"Come here" he tries to pull you above him thinking it must be something silly you're worried about again. And you know how he loves morning sex and waits for the weekends to be able to do that peacefully.

You hold his hand and keep sitting up. He tucks your hair behind your ear.

"I don't know how you're gonna feel about this..." you take a deep breath and hold his hand, he holds it tighter.

You open your closed fist and he averts his gaze away from your face.

"I'm pregnant Yoongi"

#yoongi x you #yoongi x reader #yoongi smut #min yoongi #yoongi #bts yoongi #min yoongi x reader #min suga #yoongi min #bts smut #bts fanfic #yoongi oneshot #smut #fluff #arranged marriage

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jjkwifestyle · 2 months

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Silk Touch | Min Yoongi

warning(s): mentions of sex. not proof read. mentions of female body parts.

a/n: just a liiittle drabble, woke up thinking about this *sob* enjoy! ♡

god his silk touch...every fingertip that he brushes against your skin is like velvet. the way he tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, while nodding at whatever words that were just coming out of your pretty mouth.

how...how does he do it? with every nonchalant face, shrug or sigh as he links his pinkie with yours, plays with your hands under the table, squeezing your thigh in the car. it's all just second nature to him. the way he grips your waist a little tighter as a man walks by makes your head spin...the suave just oozes from him and engulfs you.

not to mention back at home too...caressing the small of your back as you guys cuddle, each touch like a shot of espresso. the very occasional squeeze and grab of your hips as he glances at the tv. Is he that oblivious to how he drives you mad? or is he completely aware? maybe that's why he does it so much.

even when he's fucking you he can't keep his hands to himself, as if literally being inside you isn't enough. squeezing your tits, caressing your ass, groping it, kissing and touching your legs with his head between your thighs. slinking a hand around your waist as he's pound-

"love?" he mumbles, snapping you out of the day dream. he's taken his attention away from the tv. cute. "hmn?" you blink at him, he's now scanning your face to see what's wrong. before he can even ask,

"why do you touch me so much?" you blurt out, not even taking a moment to think how it sounds. he raises a single brow. "not that it's a bad thing! just...it's...nice" you look around trying to find your words before meeting his gaze again. he gives a soft breath, almost a laugh. he's used to your questions now. he plants a kiss on your forehead and sighs. "you're irresistible".

satisfied with his answer, you lay your head back down on his chest and you both continue watching the show. his silk fingertips never once stopping their pacing on your back.

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shadowkoo · 8 months

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Baby Maker

→ Summary: You and Yoongi have been relishing the comfort of your newly married life, savoring each moment together. However, there's an additional want tugging at your heartstrings – the thought of becoming a mother. That’s right, you want a baby. Yoongi isn’t sure if he’s ready for the journey of bringing a baby into your lives. But he’ll agree to anything that makes you happy, and if it’s a baby you want, it’s a baby you’ll get.

↠ myg x f.reader | 1k words | 18+ ↠ genre: slice of life, romance, fluff, smut, newlyweds

→ Warnings: unprotected sex (intentional), daddy kink, impregnation kink, deep dicking, belly bulge, oral (female receiving), multiple orgasms, creampie

→ Author note: This is a remix/update of an older fic of mine, so I hope you enjoy the newest version! If you'd like to read this on ao3 instead it's been crossposted here! And as always, all likes, reblogs, and comments are appreciated <3

You wrap your arms around your husband the second he walks through the front door of your home.

"Mmm, I've waited all day for this," you whisper before pulling him into a long kiss. One of your hands cradles his cheek while the other plays with his hair.

"Well, hello there Mrs. Min," Yoongi says with a sideways smile sprawled across his face after pulling away, "What's got you in such a good mood?" He takes off his blazer and sets his work bag down on the bench in your entryway as you pull him into another lengthy kiss, one that makes Yoongi's groin stir with excitement.

You smile up at him and start to unbutton his top as you pull him further into your home, your end goal being the bedroom.

"Baby?" he asks with dark eyes, "Are you planning on spoiling me with dessert before dinner tonight?"

You laugh, "Baby, I don't want dessert... I want a baby."

Yoongi's face changes from one of eager anticipation to confusion, then to pure and utter shock.

‘Did all the air in the room suddenly disappear? Why aren’t you having trouble breathing like he is?’

"I want to make a baby with you," you repeat, looking into his fear-filled eyes. You figured he'd be a little freaked out, but not this much.

He coughs and sputters, pulling at the neck of his button-up shirt. "You, uh, b-baby?" Yoongi mutters once he’s able to form words again.

"Yes, a baby," you took a step back from him. "It's been almost three years since we've gotten married and talked about having kids in the future. Don't you want a mini you or me to love, to watch them grow, to teach them stuff?"

Yoongi is conflicted, not because he doesn’t want kids –he does– but it scares the shit out of him. That's a whole life to take care of and be responsible for. He knows how much you want a family though, and how patient you have been with him about trying for kids.

You give him that one look - the one that you know will get you whatever you want.

"Alright,” he says, easily won over. “Let's make a baby," he answers while pulling you back into his arms.

Yoongi brings your center up against his. You feel his growing hardness pressing into you through his jeans, and moan through the kiss. You want him.

And he wants you.

His kisses are hot and needy, but somehow still so very loving.

Yoongi lifts you up and carries you urgently the rest of the way to the bedroom, where he lays you down, ready to fuck you. To love you.

Your hands work on his shirt's buttons, undoing them as fast as you can. His run along your hips, making their way to the front of your jeans where he works to undo them, and slips them and your panties off simultaneously.

Your husband keeps eye contact with you while one of his hands slides slowly up the inside of your legs, right up to the edge of your dewy folds.

“Is this pretty little cunt ready for me?”

You nod frantically, and moan uncontrollably when his tongue dives deep into your core. He savors you, his tongue playing your clit like it's the most intricate instrument.

Grabbing a fistful of his hair, you hold his head in place while he finished you off. You come undone all over his face, his cheeks showing evidence of your release once he pulls away from you.

“I’ll never get tired of your taste,” he breathes. And it’s true, you’re intoxicating. He’s addicted to you.

Yoongi stands up, pulling you towards the edge of the bed, where he then rubs his throbbing cock through your folds, wetting himself just enough to dip into you.

He nearly loses himself, but manages to power through and find a rhythm that has you both heading in the right direction.

His low moans sound like heaven to your ears.

You pull him closer to you until your lips crash together, moaning into each other's mouth while you climb higher and higher.

Needing to sink even further into your heat, he lifts one of your legs over his shoulder, pounding you from a new angle and bringing you closer and closer to the release that you crave.

“Who’s fucking you like there’s no tomorrow? Who’s putting this baby in your belly? I want you to scream my name,” he demands.

“You did,” you pant. “Min Yoongi did.”

“Fuck!” Yoongi grits his teeth as he watches the way your lower belly bulges, matching his hard thrusts.

"I’m so close,” you cry out, your nails digging into your husband’s biceps. “Cum in me," you whine, pleading for him to release into you. Yoongi is more than happy to oblige.

"I love you,” you breathe as the waves of pleasure wash over you, the tingling spreading through your veins.

“I love you more.” Yoongi grunts, his final thrusts becoming more sporadic as he passes the peak, and fills you with his seed. His face twists in pleasure as your pulsating walls milk the last from him.

You’re satisfied feeling his warm release shooting up inside of you. A big grin won’t leave your face, “Thank you.”

He considers making a dick joke, but he doesn’t want to ruin the moment. “You’re welcome, baby,” he says, kissing your cheek.

You roll over onto your back and lift your now tired and heavy legs in the air, and Yoongi gives you a perplexed look. "What?” you ask, "I've heard that this makes the sperm find the egg faster."

He thinks you look ridiculous in the best sort of way, and joins you. "I gain nothing from this but I figured I'd do it to support you."

"You're such a dork." But you love him for it.

"You know what you have to call me later if this worked?" Yoongi asks before answering his own question before you even have the chance. "The baby maker."

Your giggles filled the room and Yoongi can’t help but laugh along with you.

"Alright," you sighed once you calmed down, "I just figured you preferred daddy..."

That same look from earlier flared up in Yoongi's eyes once again, "I'm open to negotiations."

#kvanity #myg #min yoongi #yoongi #yoongi fanfic #yoongi smut #myg smut #yoongi oneshot #yoongi drabble #yoongi au #suga fanfic #suga smut #suga au #yoongi x reader #min yoongi x reader #suga x reader #bts drabble #bts smut #bts oneshot

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outrogi · 11 months

Text

laura’s yoongi recs

I’ve been reading fics in here nonstop way before I started this blog. It felt like a sin not compiling a list of some of the stories that I loved and hadn’t gotten around to sharing yet, a few of them safe in my drafts until I was ready to make this.

I will keep on adding onto this list as I keep finding stories I've read before and would love to share with you. Leave some love and appreciation to the authors if you can!

disclaimer: all stories that include mature themes will be labeled accordingly. DNI if you aren’t 18+.

♡ - favorite

S E R I E S

please be naked by @floralseokjin ♡ ◦ fuckbuddies au, rebound au, angst, smut, fluff

trip no further by @matchy6812 ♡ ◦ soulmate au, idol au, humor, angst, fluff, smut

countermelody by @bonvoyagenoona ◦ producer and artist au, e2f2l, humor, angst, fluff, smut

grey area by @blushoseoks ♡ ◦ soulmates au, angst, eventual smut

matilda by @babystrcandy ◦ brother’s best friend au, f2e2f2l, angst, smut, fluff

mixtape by @sailoryooons ◦ brother’s best friend au, friends to lovers, angst, fluff, smut

carousel by @yoonia ◦ arranged marriage au, ceo!yoongi, angst, fluff, smut

the deal by @untaemedqueen ◦ drug lord au, strangers to lovers, angst, fluff, smut

the songbird series by maia ♡ ◦ mxm, yoonmin au, pirate au, enemies to lovers, angst, fluff, smut

ukiyo by sharleena ♡ ◦ mxm, yoonmin au, drug lord au, succubus, angst, fluff, smut

greedy by @xjoonchildx ♡ ◦ mafia au, angst, fluff, smut

so it goes by @prodagustd ◦ fwb, angst, fluff, smut

•

O N E - S H O T S

lining’s silver by @sketchguk ◦ fashion designer!yoongi, artist!reader, fluff, smut

mixtape by @jungblue ♡ ◦ podcast personality au, college au, humor, fluff, smut

want a taste? by @suga-kookiemonster ◦ friends to lovers, shopping mall au, humor, smut

cream & suga by @snackhobi ◦ holidays au, coffeeshop au, fluff, smut

first, last and always by @floralseokjin ◦ exes to lovers, angst, fluff, brief smut

punch drunk by @joonbird ◦ boxer au, angst, smut

dark side of your room by @sketchguk ◦ ghost yoongi, familiar au, smut, angst

sweetener by @taegularities ◦ former fuckboy au, fwb, enemies to lovers, smut, fluff

sticks & stones by @xpeachesncream ◦ massage au, ex-fwb au, mutual pining, light angst, fluff, smut

•

last updated: 10/06/23

note #1: if any fic recommended is in hiatus, the author has yet to update or left altogether, please do not pester them with updates.

note #2: These are not all of my MYG recs! There’s more with extensive commentary from me here and you can find more of my favorites here

#myg #yoongi series #yoongi x reader #yoongi smut #yoongi au #bts au #bts x reader #min yoongi fic #yoongi recs #yoongi angst #yoongi fluff #yoongi oneshot

1K notes · View notes

alphabetboyluvr · 7 months

Text

PALLADIUM - MYG

title credit: palladium- greyson chance

pairing: dilf!yoongi x reader // friends to lovers, slowburn, eventual smut

synopsis:

min yoongi is urgent. in the way he bites his nails down to the bed, and the way his sore fingers type out desperate sentences just minutes before deadlines, he is urgent. how he prepares jaehyun’s day bag before grandma comes by, and how he double checks everything is packed, he is urgent. the requests for you to watch over jaehyun each and every deadline day are, always, predictably, urgent. but the way min yoongi falls in love with you is slow. gradual. tepid. until, like everything with min yoongi, it becomes urgent.

wordcount: 3.2K

note from holly: this was a prompt from a winner of one of my kofi quizzes! was supposed to be a drabble but now we are looking at a lil three parter. no smut in this part, just setting up our dynamics <3 yoongi is a boy dad! idc! argue with the wall!!!!

PART TWO // PART THREE

minors dni // cross posted to wattpad

"I wouldn't ask if it wasn't urgent," Yoongi pleads across the bakery counter. Nails bitten down to the bed, he's got bags underneath his eyes. Hasn't been sleeping well these days. Hasn't really been sleeping at all.

"I told you last time—"

"I know, I know," he sighs, pushing off of the countertop and pacing a few steps away, raking a stressed palm through his long, dark hair. Dishevelled, he hasn't had it cut in a while. You'll never tell him, but you think it looks better this way. "Look, it's the last time. I promise. I just really fucked it this time."

With a raised brow, you fold your arms over your chest. The apron beneath you bunches a little awkwardly, but you've never cared much for composure around Yoongi. Have simply known him too long and seen him through too many clumsy stages of life to be bothered.

Tipping your head back, you exhale a sharp breath from the very depths of your lungs.

"You are so lucky Jaehyun is an angel baby," you eventually say, shaking your head as you reluctantly agree. "What time do you need me?"

"Deadline is at midnight," Yoongi says, "So whenever you can get to mine, really. Mum has him till seven, but then she's got Bitch'n'Stitch—"

"Hey," you scold. "My mum goes to that knitting group, too."

"I'm not calling her a bitch—but I've heard their conversations," Yoongi reminds you. He swears they don't actually do any knitting (as if they haven't handmade half of Jaehyun's closet). Thinks they spend the entire time gossiping. And while yes, they do do a lot of gossiping, they can multitask. Unlike him, apparently. "But fine. She has her knitting group at seven."

Yoongi will never simply call it a knitting group, if he can help it.

Bitch'n'Stitch is his go-to, but he's also partial to Stitching Hour.

Last week, you'd just gone on a rant about how it's inappropriate to insinuate that all women of a certain age from your small town are witches—"Women used to get burned at the stake, Yoongi. Burned!"—so he knows better than to say it out loud today, even if it makes him laugh whenever he thinks about them knitting on broomsticks.

"I'll probably be outta here at just gone six," you tell him.

It's the late shift, so you're responsible for closing and cleaning up, but after two years of part-time work alongside your studies, you're a dab hand. Can action off every item on the to-do list in record time, and to a standard even your boss can't achieve.

You're wasted on a small town like this, but someone's gotta do it.

"That's fine," Yoongi nods. "I just need to straighten this essay out and get my citations done. You can go as soon as I'm finished—and hey, you can order takeout. I'll pay."

Knowing Yoongi, he's probably surviving on instant noodles, and spending all of his money on Red Bull and Jaehyun's meticulously planned diet.

Jaehyun's been off formula for about two months, now, and Yoongi is terrified of feeding him the wrong thing. By the looks of his slightly skinnier-than-usual frame, he's the one in need of a good meal.

And so, as you're doing your final tasks of the day, you don't bin the breads that need to be chucked. Instead, you bag them up. All of them. The pastries, too. Will just have to hope Yoongi has freezer space.

By the time you make it home, you've only got ten minutes to spare for a quick shower before you need to rush to Yoongi's. You'll be a little after seven, but it's fine. You've resigned yourself to staying at Yoongi's until midnight, now.

It's how it usually goes.

He'll work up until his deadline, rewriting and revising paragraphs that are perfectly fine and need no alterations. His own worst critic, you know that he really doesn't need to stress himself out like this.

Still, he does. You think he'll always be this way—at least, he was in high school, and he remains to be this way, even in university. Too much of a habit has been formed. It's ingrained in the ridges of his brain. Pink and permanent—just like the pout on his lips as he opens his apartment door for you later that evening.

Forearm tucked under Jaehyun's pudgy thighs, Yoongi cradles his son into his side, as a look of relief relaxes onto his face. It's a stark reminder of why Yoongi stresses himself out so much.

You can afford to make mistakes. The only person you have to answer to is yourself.

Yoongi doesn't have that luxury anymore. Hasn't done for a while, now. Won't ever get it again—or at least, not for another seventeen years.

"Hey," he whispers, then casts his eyes down to Jaehyun's sleepy head. Nestling into Yoongi's shoulder, Jaehyun's dark hair now has a little length to it. Much like his own, Yoongi is refusing to cut it. Another thing he's scared of getting wrong.

The subtle nod Yoongi gestures towards Jaehyun is a request for you to be quiet.

You're familiar with his paternal habits by now; the behaviours he exhibits only when he's wearing his invisible 'Dad' hat.

He tucks back against the door, letting you walk on through and into his apartment.

Shoes off by the door, Yoongi locks up as you shake off your jacket, and hook it on the empty peg in the middle of the rack.

Small and a little dark, Yoongi hates his home. Is strapped for cash, so turned the open plan kitchen and sitting room into a studio-type set-up. Has his bed where a sofa should be, and manages to cram everything somewhere. His desk, his small keyboard, his clothing rail that he really needs to reorganise. A bunch of his things are in storage.

Jaehyun's room is what once was Yoongi's. It's got the most natural light, thanks to the window placement, not that it matters at this time of night. The curtains are drawn, playmat full of yellows and oranges scattered across the floor. Beside it, is Yoongi's laptop. The screensaver is running, and it's pretty obvious he'd been playing with the little toy octopus sprawled across the keyboard instead, when you had arrived.

"Bit late for nap time?" You question quietly as you pop your phone on the charging pad Yoongi keeps on the dresser.

Nodding, Yoongi gently rests his son down in his crib. These past couple of days, everything has been a little out of sync. He feels guilty—like he's failing—but the pressures he's been putting on himself are just getting far too great. He's doing the best he can, but it always feels like it's not enough.

But Jaehyun is loved, and sheltered, and provided for. Yoongi is doing all he can. He just still isn't sure he knows how to be a dad.

Which is silly, because as you watch him stroke across the dark hair that sits flat to Jaehyun's scalp, quietly monitoring his condition, you think that Yoongi was made for this. Is far more paternal than you are maternal.

Truth be told, you don't like kids all that much.

Your idea of a fun evening doesn't typically involve hanging out with an infant, and yet you'll do it for Yoongi. Of course, you will. Have known him for too long and have been through too much with him to not help him.

Plus, you really do adore Jaehyun. Sweet as can be when he sleeps, he really does look just like Yoongi at that age—or so you gather from the baby pictures you've seen a dozen times over at his parents' place. It's easier to count which features they don't share. Saves ever needing to do a paternity test, not that Yoongi would do one anyway.

Jaehyun is his kid. A little bit of DNA wouldn't change this fact, not in his eyes.

It worries you. Not because you think Yoongi isn't his father—again, they're too alike to not be related—but in case his mother decides she wants to play an active role in Jaehyun's life. You fear that the 1% of doubt could come true and tear any legal right away from Yoongi. You're not really sure how the courts would work it all out, but you doubt they'd side with him.

Yoongi was never meant to be a father. Not now, at least. The outcome of a one-night-stand, Jaehyun's biological mother didn't realise she was pregnant until it was too late. Had no real choice in the matter. Was also nearing the end of her tenure in law school. A kid was not—and remains to not be—a part of her plan.

You know the documents were signed. Legal rights, shit like that. Know that she must have an understanding of the law far greater than Yoongi. Just hope she hasn't done anything that will fuck him over in the future.

Still, it's not a topic of conversation Yoongi likes indulging in, and so you don't push, no matter how much you'd like to know the details.

"Let him sleep," Yoongi eventually sighs, before sinking down to lie on the rug. "Better he rests while I'm working—and plus, he slept through till five-thirty this morning."

"Till sunrise?" You chirp, a little surprised but conscious of keeping your voice down.

Yoongi nods, face rubbing against the carpet. "He's basically a teenager."

Rolling your eyes, you reach down for his wrist to drag him to his feet. He's got an essay to finish.

"Shut up," you smile. "You've barely stopped being a teenager."

Sometimes, it makes you a little sad to think that Yoongi is missing out on his early twenties—but then you glance across to Jaehyun and know that he's not missing anything. Just experiencing different things. That's all.

"Don't remind me," he grunts, lamely getting to his feet, letting you pull him down the hallway as you swipe the baby monitor that lives next to the charging pad. You'll come back for your phone later.

"C'mon, gotta finish your essay. Can't be a DILF unless you get this degree."

"Untrue."

"You'll just be a D without a good job," you tell him. "DILF's are always suited up."

"That's simply not true," he doubles down. "I've been told I'm a DILF at least, like, six times. Maybe more."

Definitely more. If he knew the way girls on campus spoke about him? God, his head would be so big he wouldn't be able to walk through doors.

But for now, you shoo him back through Jaehyun's bedroom door and to his sitting room-come-bedroom. The apartment isn't large. A baby monitor isn't needed, yet one is set up by Yoongi's bed, regardless.

And so, as Yoongi knuckles down with his work, you flop onto his bed, and take prime babysitting position—though you're pretty sure you'd get fired if you ever got under anyone else's sheets on the job.

But it's late, and you've worked a long shift. You're only gonna rest your eyes for a moment. A second. A fraction of one, even. Just to hydrate them a little. Replenish your—

You're out like a light.

The curse of Min Yoongi's bedsheets. You really should have known better. It happens every damn time. You know this. He knows this.

Yet when he eventually wakes you, neither of you mention it.

"Hey," Yoongi mumbles as he gently nudges your sleepy body. Flopping down beside you on top of the duvet, his exhausted eyes close instantaneously.

"I'm going, I'm going," you grumble into his duvet, half asleep but knowing that you should go and check on Jaehyun.

The baby monitor hasn't made any noise to wake you, and Yoongi's just been with him for the last twenty minutes, quietly watching on as he slept. Is pretty confident he's gonna sleep through again tonight.

Reaching out to pat you down, Yoongi doesn't really acknowledge the way he accidentally taps your ass. Nor do you. Just sort of pretend that he didn't. Pretend that it didn't make your heart race a little.

"S'fine," he says, voice muffled by his need for rest. "He's still sleeping. Just checked on him."

"Sure?"

"Mhm," Yoongi nods, the sound of his hair smooth against his sheets. "You gonna crash here?"

"You all done?" You question right back. Shuffle, and his hand lazily moves with you. His wrist now rests on your hip, and you both pretend like it's normal.

"All done," he confirms. "Was late, so I've lost ten percent, but whatever."

For someone who stresses himself out as much as Yoongi does over his grades, as soon as he's hit the submission button, he just ceases to care. Has a 'what'll be, will be' attitude towards it all. Part of you wishes he would adopt that mentality when he's actually writing his essays.

What you don't realise is that it manifests from the same fear.

He panics and panics and panics before a deadline—and then is so worried about his grade that he just pretends like they don't exist.

Too sleepy to care at this moment in time, Yoongi's placement of his wrist on your hip becomes more intentional. Deliberate.

It's not like you're a stranger to the weight of Yoongi's arms draped over your body. Not like it's the first time—it's just every time it does happen, you swear it'll be the last.

It never is.

And it's not like it's anything illicit. Not anything you shouldn't be doing. Nothing that takes you beyond the realms of friendship—but it does threaten the integrity of your oldest connection to another human outside of familial ties.

So every time Yoongi gets a little too close, or you find yourself lingering a little long on his words, you tell yourself to stop. That this is just a symptom of the dry spell you've been going through.

"Are you staying here tonight?" He asks.

Again, it wouldn't be the first time. Have been having sleepovers with him since you were kids. Ghost stories, midnight feasts. Sneaking out to the park to find UFOs and stopping by the corner shop for snacks.

Once high school hit, it was deemed unwise by your parents. Open door policy.

You'd been furious. Outraged that your privacy was being taken from you, and being told it was for your own good.

And so sneaking out the park became sneaking in windows; films watched with headphones on, dinner eaten in your bedroom under the guise of a melodramatic teenage strop, but actually shared with the boy from two doors down who knew better than to deceive your parents.

All innocent. Nothing that required a closed door. Those escapades were saved for—or wasted on—other people. Either, or. Neither you nor Yoongi gave it much thought. Why would you?

Friends, is what you were. What you are. What you always have been.

Which begs the question: why the fuck is Yoongi looking at you like that?

But then the wrist of Yoongi's resting on your hip becomes his hand. The grip becomes intentional. The stillness of your body comes not from tiredness, but from trepidation.

"Do you want me to?"

"It's late," he husks, thumb stroking against your hip as if that's what friends do. "You're off tomorrow, right? Don't need to go home?"

"Right."

"Well, then stay," he shrugs, loosening his grip to roll onto his back. The ceiling is far less interesting than you are, but he has to stop looking at your lips and wondering if they taste like the strawberry lip balm you'd tossed on the side cabinet earlier. "Makes sense."

"Stay?" You question as if he still needs to clearly outline that, yes, he'd like you to stay. "And do what?"

"Sleep," he dryly replies, because it's the obvious answer. Because it's what you should do. You're tired. He's tired. Jaehyun is asleep in the next room over.

"Sleep," you nod. "Sounds good."

Domestication becomes you in times like these. A toothbrush sits in an old glass on the top shelf of Yoongi's mirrored bathroom cabinet. The rest of the shelves are pretty much empty, but he always puts it up there. Says it annoys him anywhere else.

"Surely it's more annoying having to get it down for me every time I crash here?" You banter with him as you lean against the back wall of his bathroom, waiting for him to retrieve it.

Plucking it from the glass, Yoongi is swift with his movements, and the way he wets the brush, puts a pearl of toothpaste on the bristles, then hands it back over to you.

"Doesn't bother me," he shrugs, turning back around to shut the cabinet. When he does, he's greeted with your eyes in the mirror, and a feeling in his stomach that should bother him.

See, the D in Yoongi's DILF actually stands for dependable (although occasionally dickhead also fits). He likes being asked to do things. Likes being helpful. Useful. Knows that he depends on you far more than you do him, and so he does this to settle the score.

You help him pass his exams, and he helps you keep good dental hygiene habits. A win-win situation.

Leaving you to finish washing up, Yoongi does the final checks of his apartment. Bolts the door. Turns out the lights. Makes sure Jaehyun's day bag is packed for tomorrow with his Grandma. Adds the day's clothes to the laundry pile. Stands in the doorframe of Jaehyun's room to just simply watch his son exist for a little while longer.

He loses track of time doing this. It's a nightly routine, so you think he'd get used to it, but he never does. Still can't fully comprehend that a living, breathing creature relies on him for basic survival.

Sure, he hides your toothbrush away, and puts things out of reach for you just to get you asking him for help, but this is different. He cares about nothing more than making sure Jaehyun is surrounded by abundance: love, shelter, food. Everything the world has to offer, Yoongi wants for his son—and that's why he's working so damn hard to make sure it happens.

There's a tenderness to how Yoongi strokes your back when you stand beside him. He's far gentler than he used to be. Benevolent with age. Isn't the same kid who used to chase you around his parent's yard with a worm in one hand, and a pile of mud in the other.

"C'mon," you whisper, walking away because you know you need to break the contact. "Let's rest."

Yoongi nods. Is slow as he tears his gaze from his son, but just as stoic as he watches you saunter down the hallway and into your bedroom for the night. His bedroom.

You slip out of sight, just in time for Yoongi to exhale the air in his lungs. His sigh is full of unspoken words. Uncertain terms—and as he follows you down, he wonders how many more secrets will bloat his lungs throughout the night.

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7ndipity · 2 months

Text

“Eyes On Me”

Yoongi x Reader

Summary: When you visit Yoongi on the set of the Haegeum music video, you realize you might have a slight thing for his Agust D persona.

Word Count: just under 1.7k

Warnings: +18 mdni, smut, Dom Yoongi, light degradation, slight mirror sex, mentions of voyeurism, unprotected sex(pls don’t do this), swearing, not proofread

A/N: Thanks to the lovely anon who requested this!

Masterlist

°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•

You were practically vibrating with excitement as your car pulled up to the filming location. Usually, Yoongi liked to keep a certain level of separation between his work life and you, but since he was going to be filming as his Agust D persona, which he knew you had a more than slight obsession with, he’d asked if you wanted to join him on the trip to Thailand.

Naturally, you’d agreed immediately, loving any opportunity to show your support for him, and also knowing, whether he admitted it or not, that he was slightly nervous about being without any of the other members. Plus, there was no way you were about to pass up the opportunity to see him as his alter ego in real life.

As you climbed out of the car, you were greeted by one of his staff members, who then led you through the building to where they were currently filming.

Through the crowd of crew members, you managed to catch sight of him as he was talking with the director, clad in a patterned shirt and dark jeans, the necklaces around his neck catching the light as he moved, his hair, which you’d developed an obsession with since he started growing it out longer, was styled in a gorgeous mess of tousled waves.

You’d have to remember to thank his styling team later, his look exuded the perfect balance of casual, edgy sexiness, leaving you unable to tear your gaze away.

As you stared at him, he happened to look up and catch sight of you, his eyes lighting up as he sent you a tiny smile and wave, but before you could greet each other any further, the director called action and suddenly your Yoongi seemed to disappear.

As soon as the song started to play, Yoongi’s lips curled into a cocky smirk as he danced around the room, rapping along perfectly with the backing track. As he spun away from the camera, he shot you a quick glance, giving you a sly wink that made your thighs clench involuntarily.

You tried to ignore the stirring heat in your lower belly, but as they continued to film, you became embarrassingly aware of the growing wetness between your legs.

You couldn’t believe you were this turned on from just watching him. It wasn’t like you hadn’t seen him perform before, but something about seeing him like this, with that over-confident swagger and wicked gleam in his eye, had you squirming in your seat to try and subtly alleviate the growing need in your aching core.

After what felt like hours, they finally called for a break, giving Yoongi(and you) time to rest while they reset the cameras for the next shot.

Yoongi immediately made a beeline for you, a sly smile teasing up the corners of his mouth as he looped his arms around your waist in a quick hug.

“Enjoying yourself?” He asked, pecking your cheek.

“Mhm.” You nodded, suddenly feeling shy for some reason.

He looked at you quizzically. “You feeling okay?”

“Yeah, why?” You replied innocently.

“Your face is red.” He said, smirking at you.

You looked down, flustered.

He leaned in close enough that no one else could overhear him.

“You know, you’re really not as subtle as you think you are.” He murmured against your ear. “I saw the way you kept staring at me. Care to share what you were thinking about?”

You shivered slightly as his fingers traced along your waist teasingly.

“You just looked really hot.” You admitted.

“Yeah? You like this?” He teased as he pulled back, gesturing to his outfit.

“Mhm.” You nodded, eyes following the way his hands caught hold of one of his necklaces.

“You should see what they’ve got me in later, a full suit with my hair slicked back.” He said in a low voice.

“I like you like this.” You whispered, catching hold of the edge of his shirt as you stared up at him, desperate need clear in your eyes, causing his gaze to darken.

He caught hold of your hand, pulling you along behind him as subtly as possible through the building til he found the spare room that was being used for wardrobe and makeup, which was mercifully empty of staff at the moment.

He quickly tugged you inside, pressing you up against the wall as he kissed you hungerly, his mouth hot and demanding, not at all like his normal gentle touch.

“I only have ten minutes, so you better behave.” He said, pulling back to stare you down with lust blown eyes, grinding his growing erection against your clothed core and causing you to let out a soft whimper.

A flicker of movement in your peripheral caught your attention, drawing your eyes to the full length mirror in the corner of the room, showing off the way Yoongi had you caged in with his body.

Yoongi noticed your gaze and glanced up, his earlier smirk returning.

“Well, isn’t this convenient?” He purred in your ear, pulling you forward and spinning you so you were now in front of the mirror, your back to his chest. “This way you can still watch me, since you like that so much.”

Without breaking eye contact with you in the mirror, he slipped a hand down your front of your pants, teasing you over your underwear, feeling the growing damp patch on the fabric.

“So fucking wet already.” He growled in your ear. “Did seeing me like this really turn you that much?”

“You always make me like this.” You breathed, your eyes fluttering closed as you let your head fall back against his shoulder.

“Ah-ah.” He caught your jaw with his free hand, drawing your gaze back to the mirror. “Eyes on me, understand? You look away, you don’t get to cum. Got it?”

“Yes, Sir.” You whispered, feeling a shiver run through your body as you met his gaze in the reflection.

“Sir?” He raised a brow at you in amusement. “Shit, you really are gone for me today, aren’t you?”

Heat flooded your face, but you didn’t deny it, bucking against his hand fruitlessly. “Please.”

He removed his hand from you, making quick work of both of your pants before bending you over, barely teasing the tip of his cock between your folds before thrusting into you without warning, making you let out a small yelp, which Yoongi quickly muffled with a hand over your mouth.

“Careful, Doll, wouldn’t want anyone to hear what we’re doing in here, right?” He mocked as he bottomed out, not giving you time to adjust before drawing his hips back and trusting into you again, quickly setting a harsh pace as your hands shot out to brace against the mirror.

“Or maybe you would like that? Hmm? Want everyone to know what a little slut you are for me?” He adjusted his hold on you, deepening the angle of his thrusts and making you let out another low whine, mouth hanging open in pleasure.

“Such a slutty cunt, just couldn’t fucking wait to be filled, huh?” He grunted, watching the way you fell apart so easily on his cock.

Your hands clutched uselessly at the smooth surface of the mirror for stability, trying to hold yourself up as Yoongi continued to pound into you.

“Y-yoongi.” You whimpered, fighting to keep your eyes open and fixed on him.

“Hmm?” He cocked his head at you. “What is it, Baby?”

“Wanna cum, please.” You pleaded.

“Yeah?” He leaned over you, never slowing his thursts as his hand came back down to find your clit, rubbing harsh circles over the little bundle of nerves and making you shake in his hold.

“Cum.” He commanded.

Almost instantly, your orgasm crashed over you, biting your lip to keep from screaming out his name as you threw your head back.

Taking the opportunity, Yoongi latched onto your neck, sucking and biting at the skin and dragging out your release, causing your walls to spasm around him uncontrollably.

“Fuck.” Unable to hold back anymore, he thrusted harshly into you, his hips losing their rhythm as your clenching heat sucked him in, his cock pulsing as he coated your insides with his release.

“Fuck.” He repeated shakily, stilling deep inside of you as he leaned his forehead against your back, trying to catch his breath before pressing a kiss to your skin. “You’re gonna be the fucking death of me.”

You laughed shakily, still staring at his slightly fucked-out image in the mirror.

He pulled out, quickly tugging your underwear back into place before anything could escape.

”Keep that in for me, yeah?” He said low in your ear, resting his hand over your abused cunt. “We can’t be making a mess of the set, can we?”

You shook your head, wobbling slightly as you tried to turn to face him, Yoongi’s hands instantly shooting out to steady you.

Just as suddenly as it had appeared earlier, the dark glint in his eyes faded, leaving only the gentle sweetness of your Yoongi staring back at you as he held onto you.

“You alright?” He asked gently.

You nodded. “Just need a minute.” You admitted with another quiet laugh, making him smile in relief before pressing his lips to yours, this time so much softer and full of love.

There was a sudden knock at the door, making you both jump back slightly.

“Yoongi? We’re ready for you on set.”

“Be right there.” He called, never taking his eyes off of you.

He pressed another gentle kiss to your lips before leading you over to sit in one of the makeup chairs.

“You rest, I’ll be back in a few minutes. Okay?”

“Okay.” You replied, watching as he tidied himself up before heading for the door. “Hey.”

He paused, looking back at you questioningly. “Yeah?”

“Do you think they’ll let you keep that outfit?” You asked with a grin.

He laughed, shaking his head in disbelief. “I’ll ask.”

“Thank you.” You beamed.

He slipped out the door, mumbling something about “ridiculous”, but you didn’t pay it any mind.

He did keep the outfit though.

Taglist: @sopebubbles-replies @btsw1fe @this-must-be-my-tardis @whitefoxgirl @bethanysnow @coffeedepressionsoup @main-bangtansmauyeondan @feminympho @a-gayish-unicorn @captainorangegoose @k4ngelz

#yoongi smut #yoongi scenarios #yoongi drabble #yoongi oneshot #yoongi x y/n #yoongi x reader #bts scenarios #bts x reader #bts x y/n #bts smut #bts drabble #bts one shot #bts requests #7ndipity

993 notes · View notes

aphrodijin · 1 year

Text

swing life away | min yoongi

pairing: min yoongi x fem!reader

synopsis: it's your first anniversary as a married couple but not only did you forget today's special occasion, you also didn't prepare a self-made gift for your husband -- except for the bundle of joy in your womb.

rating: 18+

word count: 5.2k

tags/content warning: married au, pregnancy, slight angst, miscommunication, mentions of infidelity (no one's cheating), mentions of food and being vegan (no one's vegan), usage of babe/baby as endearment, semi-public sex, SMUT in the forms of oral sex (m. receiving), fingering, unprotected sex (don't do this unless you want kids or std), slight spanking, yoongi being a carpenter/loving husband/dumpling/etc.

this fic is inspired by the song "swing life away" by rise against and yoongi's woodcarving vlog :] enjoy!

Min Yoongi was many things.

He’s a skilled carpenter with his own woodshop business by day, and a rising songwriter/record producer by night. He’s a confident all-star basketball player back in his high school days and can still shoot perfectly whenever he plays with some of your shared friends in the backyard these days. He’s a great cook too, always indulging your cravings.

Min Yoongi was many things but most importantly, he’s your husband.

And a very observant one.

It’s been more than a month when he first noticed it. He wasn’t exactly sure what was “it,” but he knew it wasn’t good. He could tell there was something bothering in your mind one night you went home from work and claimed it’s nothing instead of ranting to him like the usual. Just a bad day at work.

A week after that was when you started to stay long hours at work, looking more pale and exhausted when you get home. It baffled Yoongi why you would spend more hours there if it’s stressing you and you’ve never actually worked overtime, but he knew he’s not one to talk about spending more time at work when he has two jobs and does one of those said jobs at home, so he shut his mouth. He didn’t say anything.

Not when you changed your perfume from an intoxicating fruity scent to a soft floral one. Not when he saw a receipt of you having your car interior cleaned and also changed the smell of it. Not when you didn’t want to have sex anymore, always pushing his hands away when they start to wander down there.

A lot of new small things bothered him, especially the last one but what made him almost lose it was when you had mistaken his dish, the one you claimed to be your favorite, for a different one.

x◇x◇x

“Do you like it?”

You nodded, despite still blowing the steam off of your spoon. When you finally tasted it though, he could tell on the look on your face that there’s something missing on his dish. “What is it? Did I not put enough fish sauce or tomato sauce?”

“You put fish sauce in this?” You asked, smiling adorably at your husband and reached across the table to hold his hand in assurance. “It tastes fine, babe, but there’s no need for fish sauce in this. You could’ve added more liver spread and cheese though. You know I love a lot of cheese in this.”

Yoongi closed his eyes for a moment to breathe. He understood the cheese part, you always add cheese to a lot of dishes that doesn’t even need cheese. “Y/N, I didn’t put liver spread because that dish doesn’t require liver spread. It needed fish sauce.”

“What are you talking about? Caldereta is all about the tender beef, tomato sauce, liver spread, and cheese!”

“That's afritada, Y/N. You’re favorite dish back home is afritada.”

Yoongi blinked and composed himself, trying not to look so wounded. He’s so damn sure you’re favorite was afritada, you’ve talked about it a lot. Hell, he’d already cooked it a couple of times before. He had the recipe that he searched online bookmarked on his browser, and he even went to the lengths of jotting them down on his journal just in case the link is taken down.

“Afritada… you mean this is chicken?” You scooped for some meat parts from the reddish soup dish, and there it was, your recent enemy: chicken. “I can’t eat chicken right now, Yoongi, I'm sorry.” You sat straight up, covering your mouth and nose with your hand.

“Of course, it’s chicken. It’s always been chicken, Y/N. It’s a chicken dish, that’s why you love it so much. Or loved, apparently, judging by your actions tonight.”

“I'm sorry,” your voice came out muffled as your hand was still covering your mouth.

“When did you start hating chicken?” he asked as he stood up to take your plate away and check the pantry to prepare something else for you.

“Um, my coworker, Seokhoon, he’s practicing to be a vegan lately so we thought we’d support him by also not eating meat…”

Yoongi’s ears perked up, hearing how your answer sounded uncertain and more like a question, so he pressed more, looking over his shoulder at you. “You were more than ready and excited to eat beef and cheese earlier but you wouldn’t eat chicken right now?”

You stared dumbfoundingly at him before shrugging. “I’m trying with small things like egg and chicken.”

“I made you an omelet for breakfast earlier.” He pointed out, holding your gaze.

“I… just started… to try being vegan earlier at lunch. And also meat are becoming pricey these days, our salary might not be enough. Sooner or later, we’re gonna have to cut back on our expenses. What would you rather give up—chicken or beef?”

Of course, Yoongi would rather eat tofu and bean sprouts for the rest of his life if it meant you get to eat properly and satisfy your cravings. But he didn’t bother to reply that as he cooked you a different dish that night. Fuck Seokhoon for influencing you to be vegan. Fuck the government for the rising prices and not handling the economy better.

x◇x◇x

Ever since that dinner night, Yoongi began to question your marriage. He wanted to talk to you because he didn’t know what to make of your actions anymore, but everytime you two were in the room together, he could you tell you were uncomfortable and couldn’t wait to get out of the situation. Besides, he’s afraid to ask because he knows he’s not prepared for any possible answers you'll give him.

You cheated? Yoongi knew it’s impossible. It had to be because he wouldn’t know what to do with that with that revelation. That would honestly break him.

You lost your job and was just actually driving around town to look for a new one and pass the time? It sounded stupid but not impossible. He would be disappointed and wish that you had told him sooner to prepare and possibly take on a third job.

You’re pregnant? He supposed this is a realistic scenario. You two had talked about this sincerely before getting married, of course, both wanting two kids. He just feels like it’s still early for babies and you two haven’t done all your goals as a married couple before becoming parents.

So he told himself to wait, that you would open up to him when you’re finally ready to unburden your problems. He’s a patient man after all.

But his patience seemed to be running thin today on the morning of your anniversary when he rolled over to your side as he woke up to cuddle you closer and hopefully start the day buried inside you.

He knew you’re awake, even with your eyes closed. You've been waking up earlier than him lately, one of your many changing habits. He took your hand that was hugging your stomach and pressed a soft kiss on your fingers, on your palm, on your wrist, trailing them across your arm up to your shoulder.

“Y/N,” he whispered your name, wishing for you to open your eyes when he nipped at your jaw. He called your name once again as his lips were ghosting over yours. Your eyelashes fluttered open just enough to look at him and when he finally saw your eyes, he leaned down to kiss you deeply.

You freed your hand from his to curl your fingers up into his long hair, urging him closer while the other slid up beneath his shirt, feeling the heat of his body that you’ve been missing for weeks now. You pulled your knees up as Yoongi settled himself in between your legs, grinding his hard cock against your core.

But just as his own hand started to drift down on your hips, you slowed down, giving his lips one last kiss before pressing your forehead to his. You both stayed there without any movements at all, just gasping for air and holding each other’s skin and flesh tightly every now and then.

When it sounded like you were about to apologize, he pressed a kiss on your forehead and whispered, “Happy anniversary, baby,” before bolting right out of the bed, before you could even say it back to him.

x◇x◇x

Despite your husband having his own woodshop and fulfilling his dreams in the music industry, you didn’t let go of your job when you and Yoongi got married.

You were on your way back to your desk from your third visit to the bathroom that morning when you saw the delivery man on the front door of the store carrying a gigantic bouquet of flowers he almost disappeared behind it.

“Min Y/N?” he asked, looking around the store.

Jia turned to the direction of the bathroom and pointed at you when she saw you. You stayed your feet at your place. You couldn’t speak, you couldn’t move. The flowers looked beautiful—a bouquet of pale and dark red carnations, along with sunflowers, wrapped meticulously in craft paper and tied with a golden ribbon—but there’s a bad feeling in the pit of your stomach that’s making it hard for you to appreciate this.

“This is for you!” The delivery man presented the bouquet to you with a proud smile. When you didn’t move, he gingerly took your arms to place the flowers in them and then took off.

A minute must have passed by yet none of you and your colleagues moved or talked. It wasn’t until a client came in and needed assistance. Jia wrapped her arm around you and walked you back to your desk. As you sat down, you caught sight of the red card sticking out of the flowers. HAPPY 1ST ANNIVERSARY, BABY.

Reading Yoongi's handwritten note, you recognized that bad feeling again that you knew all too well lately. Shame and guilt. You had to close your eyes and practice your breathing exercises before those bad feelings in your stomach turn into a pile of chunky vomit across the floor.

Jia, oblivious to your anxiety, swooned over the flowers. “Happy anniversary, Y/N!”

It’s the second greeting you’ve received today and you couldn’t help but wince when you remember how you froze when Yoongi greeted you.

You didn’t know how this special event slipped up your mind when staring at your calendar was all you’ve been doing lately. You were aware that your own anniversary was near and you even had a lot of ideas for DIY gifts to give to your husband.

You tried to make it up to Yoongi by going after him and showering together to have some hot shower sex even though the thought of sex was making you nervous lately. Yoongi turned down the offer though, saying you’re both gonna be late for work, which was a very pathetic excuse considering he’s his own boss and your own work doesn’t start in a couple of hours. So you showered together in silence.

Just as you’re about to calm down, you’re eyes widened in panic because not only you forgot your own anniversary day, of course you also forgot to actually make a gift despite tons of ideas in your journal and Pinterest board.

“Jia, I didn’t get him a gift!” It wasn’t even noon yet, and you’re already close to breaking down for the third time today.

“Well, the department store is just around the corner. I can come with you at lunch to buy something last minute.”

You shook your head and explained to her that buying some expensive stuff isn’t enough. Knowing your husband, he already made you a gift days ago. You’re not sure if it’s something from his woodshop or if he composed you a song, all you know is Yoongi probably made you a gift with love. No amount of money could compare to that.

“Well, there’s always sex?” At the sight of your face crumpling once again, Jia took back her suggestion. “Or not! Honestly, Y/N, this is why I’m all single and alone in life so I don’t have to give people gifts and you’re making me stress about your own anniversary gift.”

“I’m so sorry.”

“And really, you’re worrying about gifts when…” she paused to look down at your belly. “Have you told him yet?”

You shook your head.

“Well, there’s your anniversary gift, congratulations!”

“This is a stupid gift." Despite your harsh words, you wrapped arm protectively around your middle.

“Why? You said you want to give him something you made, well you made that. He even helped, too!”

You couldn’t possibly just announce you’re pregnant on your anniversary day? Right? Sure, it’s convenient and practical – two celebrations in one night!

But that’s not the actual thing that’s been bothering you. You’ve been hiding your condition to your husband for weeks now, when you should have told him that he’s a gonna be a dad the moment you saw the plus sign on a stick. But you didn’t because you’re scared and if you’re gonna be honest, also selfish. Selfish to have Yoongi the Husband™️ all to yourself just for a couple more days before he turns into Yoongi, your husband and the father of your unborn fetus. And then that selfishness turns into guilt for not telling him, for distancing yourself.

A part of you wished he’ll figure it out on his own, that’ll save you a speech.

x◇x◇x

Even before you started to spent late hours at work, Yoongi always comes home an hour or so before you. It usually gives him enough time to prepare for dinner.

However today, he asked his friend Seokjin to prepare a romantic dinner for you two as he would busy himself installing the porch swing he made as his anniversary gift for you.

With his long hair tied in a half bun, a few strands tucked behind his ears and locked into place with pins, and a safety googles on his face, Yoongi began by drilling two holes up into the ceiling joists where he would screw the hooks. When he’s done and swept away the dust, he took the chains that’s wrapped in rope for extra support and aesthetic purposes and attached them to swing before hoisting them up to the hooks.

Despite wanting his gift to be all handmade, Yoongi had no choice but to buy a small foam mattress and throw pillows to decorate the swing. He placed them all nicely and removed his googles before sitting down and testing the swing if it runs smoothly.

Swinging for a couple of minutes gave Yoongi enough time to relax from the stress of his jobs, from setting this swing up, from all his fears and worries.

It gave him enough peace from all the doubts and questions inside his head. He hoped that this would give you the same. He hoped that you seeing this swing – the one you dreamed for so long, the one that he promised you because how could he ever say no – will help you remember that the fact that you two get to celebrate this day was because of your love for each other and the trust you’ve built all these years even before marrying.

Yoongi had set up the swing in the right side of the house, facing a line of tall trees that secludes this house from the main road, and close enough to the backyard for some peace and privacy that if anyone walks or drives in to your lot, they wouldn’t see you right away as the beams would hinder their sight. But anyone who’s sitting here would see just fine if there’s someone coming in.

Just like Yoongi saw your car rolled in right away to park next to his pickup truck. He stood up and waved his arm to call your attention, excited to show you his gift. When you didn’t see him, he jogged up to the front and flashed a smile when you jumped up in surprise at the sight of him.

“What are you doing outside?”

“I have to show you something, come on!” He went to cover your eyes for surprise and guided you to the back.

You were expecting some surprise in the backyard, probably a dinner he cooked but your assumptions came into a halt as Yoongi stopped only after taking a few steps. When he removed his hands and told you to open your eyes, a cozy porch swing greeted your sight.

“That’s…” you trailed off, walking closer and wrapping your hand around the chain-rope. From the bulky design of the chain and rope to the uneven height of the wooden slabs of the back support, Yoongi made you the exact wooden swing that you drunkenly drew a long time ago when you two just started dating.

“Happy anniversary, Y/N.” You heard Yoongi say behind you, and you wish he had said it the way he greeted you this morning – with such coldness and hurt. You felt like you didn’t deserve this with the way you’ve been treating him this past month.

Not wanting to hurt him any longer and bring back normalcy in your relationship, you turned to look at him, your eyes teary and said, “I… I'm sorry, babe.”

“Why? What is it?”

“I…” You cleared your throat and wondered which should you say first: you didn’t get him any gift, or you’re pregnant. You figured you should go with the bad news first before softening the mood with the good news, you’re just not sure which is which. “I didn’t get you any gift. I actually forgot it’s our anniversary today, I’m sorry.”

Yoongi fell silent before chuckling nervously. Sure, forgetting your own anniversary was bad, but that’s little compared to what Yoongi was imagining these past few days. “That’s alright, I thought it was something serious.”

“Why? What did you think I was going to say?” you prodded before you drop your next bomb.

“I don’t know what I thought, honestly. Things haven’t been quite well with us lately, Y/N.” He shrugged, scratching his nape. “I thought of pregnancy. There’s one where you don’t actually have a job anymore and just didn’t want to say it. I also thought you’re cheating with fucking Seokhoon—”

“Seok-Seokhoon? Why the hell would you think that? I couldn’t stand that guy.”

“I don’t know Y/N, you tell me, you’re the one who suddenly didn’t want to eat chicken because fucking Seokhoon is trying to be vegan.”

You thought about the lamb chops Seokhoon devoured at lunch today. You also remembered the night Yoongi was referring to, when you almost spilled your guts literally and figuratively at the smell of the chicken.

“Seokhoon isn’t vegan. But one of your hunches is true.” You walked towards him, taking his hand in yours and placing it on your stomach. “I’m pregnant.”

Yoongi froze for a minute, staring at your eyes down to your stomach that he’s touching. His gummy smile slowly broke into his face, giggling as he asked to confirm, “Pregnant? With babies?”

You nodded, matching his smile. “Yeah, pregnant, but hopefully just a singular baby. Or fetus, I’m not sure, I haven’t been to a clinic yet. I was putting it off because I want you to be there at the first checkup since I left you in the dark when I took the test. I'm really sorry about that, Yoongi, I just didn’t know how to say it. I was scared and nervous myself about this baby and I kn—”

Yoongi cut off your ramblings by kissing you. “I'm sorry. I'm sorry I thought you were cheating when you were feeling this way all on your own. I should’ve asked you.”

You shook you head. “I'm sorry I let you think that, too. But there’s no way I would’ve betray you for Seokhoon or anyone else, really. I love you so much, Yoongi.”

You stood in your toes to kiss him again, muttering again and again how much you love him and how sorry you were. His hands stayed firmly on each side of you, and you didn’t pushed him away this time. You looped your arms around his neck and tugged him closer.

This one kiss – after all those weeks of just pecking and short kisses, after the frustrating mess that happened earlier morning – was so hungry and powerful and mind-numbing. You wouldn’t even wanna stop if a lightning strike near you two. You missed him so much, you would’ve take him right here, right now.

But Yoongi pulled away, breathing ruggedly as he said, “You haven’t tried it yet.”

“Tried the what yet?”

“The swing, don’t you wanna take a ride on it?”

Despite his innocent question referring to the swing, your eyes mischievously glinted and an idea popped into your mind. You took his hand and gestured for him to sit down. Trying to calm yourself down, you kissed your husband first before prying his legs open and kneeling down between them, instead of sitting beside him.

“What are you doing?” he smirked, enjoying the sight in front of him.

“I was thinking I could ride you on it instead, but first…”

With a coy smile, you unbuttoned his pants and pulled them down along with his underwear, freeing his hard cock. Licking your lips in anticipation, you wrapped your hand around him, thumb circling at the precum beading on his crown.

Yoongi hissed at sensation, bucking his hips up. “Fuck, baby, don’t tease me. It’s been a month.” His hands ran through your hair to keep them out of the way and prompted for you to start.

“Happy anniversary,” you greeted him before placing sloppy, wet mouth kisses on the head of his dick and moving them down while your hand was steadily stroking the base and the other was gently squeezing and rolling his balls.

When you made sure to coat every inch of his cock with your saliva, you kissed his crown one more time before taking him in your mouth, trying to fit whatever you can while your hand covered the rest.

“Ahh, that feels so good, babe. I’ve really missed you,” he rasped.

You moaned around him as you felt yourself getting wet even just at the sound of his voice and at the feeling of his heavy cock sliding in and out of your mouth. One of his hands weaved into your hair once again to carefully guide you at the pace he wanted. He bit his lip in concentration as he tried to restrain himself from just snapping his hips up to fuck your face but failing a couple of times, making you choke and teary-eyed.

Yoongi couldn’t help but groan at the sight of you, mouth wide open full of his cock, eyes in tears staring up at him. His other hand cupped your jaw, his thumb caressing your cheek.

“You’re doing so good, baby, taking my cock so well.”

His moans were getting louder and he started to lose control of his hips, a sign that Yoongi’s close to his orgasm. You released his cock to tease him a little bit, swirling your tongue over again at the sensitive spot of his crown as you pumped his length, making him all whiny as he repeated your name again and again like a mantra along with few curse words, before sucking him whole again with the intention of swallowing his hot cum. Which Yoongi delivered, a lot. And loudly.

You pulled yourself off of his cock, still semi-hard, and opened your mouth to show him that you’ve swallowed every drop of his cum. Still breathing heavily, Yoongi smiled proudly at you. “You’re gonna be the fucking death of me, Y/N baby. Come here.”

“Not to doubt you, but are you sure this won’t give out on us?” You asked, looking up at the ceiling where the swing is hanging.

“Of course not, at least three people can sit here. We’ll be fine, even when we finally have our kid sitting down here with us,” he replied, helping you get up at your feet.

You stared down at him, grinning at the thought of your kid playing at this very porch swing their daddy made in the future. But first, it’s gonna mommy and daddy’s turn on the swing for a while.

Because of the disastrous shower session earlier, you tried to make it up to your husband by wearing his favorite black lace lingerie underneath one of your red dress that gave out the equal vibe of classy and slutty to entice him on. You also figured, might as well wear them while you still can.

You unbuttoned the dress open from the top, revealing the lacy bra, causing Yoongi to raise his eyebrows.

“You wore lingerie to work?”

“Yeah, it turned out to be quite itchy and uncomfortable to wear for a long time actually,” you pouted. “Help me out of it, please.”

Yoongi leaned forward, one of his hands held you firmly by your waist while the other slipped beneath your dress, running his fingertips along the edge of your underwear before pulling them aside to sink a finger inside your cunt and moving it in a ‘come hither' motion. He added another finger while his thumb drew circles on your clit to send you over the edge.

You gasped, your hands paused from unclasping your bra to balance yourself on your husband’s shoulders as he stretched you out, spreading your slick all over your slit. When your juices had dripped down on his wrist, Yoongi took that as a cue that you’re wet enough and hooked his hands around your underwear to remove them before pulling you into his lap.

He gathered the skirt of your dress, bunching them up to your waist. You bit your lower lip as your pussy was pressing against his cock, feeling hard and thick against your wet core. Feeling impatient as Yoongi kissed your neck, you tried to move your hips, chasing that pleasure the friction gave you, in which you earned a gentle slap in the ass from him.

“Take this off,” he said, toying with the strap of your bra.

You nodded like a good girl, unclasping them from behind and took the straps of your shoulders. Yoongi pulled down your dress, revealing your tits. He stared at them for a second, both of his hands cupping each breast gently, thumbs grazing your soft skin and hardened nipple. You were about to make a joke when he leaned down to start licking and sucking one of your tits, while he massaged the other one.

While he was busy, you attempted to get yourself off by rocking your hips against him again, whether on his cock or his thigh, you didn’t care. A cry left your lips when he slapped your ass once again, a bit harder this time, before proceeding to grab your ass in his hands and dig his fingers in to help you move. You whimpered every time your sensitive clit rubbed pass his tip, making him almost poked your entrance.

Yoongi switched his attention on your other tit, but never faltering his movement to make you come on his cock. He could feel you’re close, your folds fluttering against his cock, your hips jerking more uncontrollably, your juices running down on his skin to the foam cushion he newly bought, making a mental note to buy a new one.

“Y—Yoongi…” you moaned, eyes scrunched close and head thrown back. “Oh, I'm gonna—oh fuck Yoongi—”

He looked up from your chest to stare at the fucked out expression on your face as you come, his hands on your hips controlling your move to help you ride out your orgasm. When he felt that you’re almost done coming down from your high, Yoongi lifted you up to line his tip against your entrance and helped you sink down on his cock. You moaned loudly at the feeling of your cunt being stretched out so deliciously after a month without an intercourse.

None of you spoke for a while, but you were thankful that Yoongi didn’t fuck you right away and instead let you adjust to the size as he sucked and nibbled every inch of your skin.

“If I’m pregnant right now, does that mean we don’t need a condom for a while? Or you can still get me pregnant while I’m pregnant?”

“It can happen, but it’s rare.” Yoongi saw your concerned expression, so he asked, “Do you want me to wear one?”

You smiled and shook your head immediately. “No. I want to feel you.” With that being said, you hooked your arms across his shoulders and started to bounce on his cock, grinding your clit on his pelvis everytime you come down.

Despite the frustrations and longing that Yoongi had built up for a month, he managed to calmly hold back and sit there as you ride him. At the back of his mind, he was also hesitant to pound his dick in and out of you without a care because he’s afraid he might hurt the baby. So he let you control the pace while his hands wander over your body, palming your tits and smacking your ass.

“Ahh Yoongi… please, fuck me.” You couldn’t keep your upper body straight anymore as your walls began on clenching around his dick, so you leaned your head on his shoulder. “I can’t—I feel so close again…”

“I know, baby, I got you now. You did great,” Yoongi whispered tenderly, placing a kiss on your head. He gripped your thighs in place, thrusting his hips upward into you and picked up the pace to bring you to your second orgasm.

You cried out in pleasure as Yoongi kept hitting that sweet spot inside you, your body beginning to tremble in his arms. You could feel him getting close too by the way his thrusts were being quick and sloppy so you curled your hand around the curly strands on his nape, your lips leaving wet kisses on his neck as you tried to give him hickeys.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, holy shit baby…”

You were lucky you live in a remote place and didn’t have any neighbors for miles as they would’ve surely heard Yoongi's loud groans and your high-pitched moans as you came together. Yoongi had thrust one more time inside you, bringing your hips down as he flushed your bodies together and filled your cunt with his thick cum.

None of you wanted to move at that moment, just catching up on your breaths and occasionally rocking your hips into each other for a potential round two when your stomach had a sudden craving — dumplings.

And dumplings reminded you of — “Oh my, god, we’re gonna have a baby dumpling in a few months.”

“I’m not a dumpling,” he groaned, burying his face on the crook of your neck as you laugh.

Min Yoongi was many things—a carpenter, a songwriter and producer, a basketball player, a dumpling (despite his denial), your loving husband, and in a few months, a proud father.

Hello! Thank you so much for reading. I hope you enjoyed it and please, reblogs and feedbacks are always welcome and appreciated :)

If you want to support me and help with my dental care funds, please consider tipping me at ko-fi.com/aphrodijin or commission me to write you a fic. I could really use some help.

Thank you so much once again, have a great day! x

3K notes · View notes

borathae · 2 months

Text

↳ Full Art

"You run in on Yoongi touching himself in the shower and he begs you to punish him because of it. Hard."

Pairing: Yoongi x n.Reader

Genre: established relationship!AU, Smut

Warnings: sub!Yoongi, masochist!Yoongi, rough Dom!Reader, he is naked and wet, CBT, cock slapping, safe ball busting with a knee, leaky cocks, dirty talk, degradation, he wants to be called dirty/bad slut, hair pulling, subby boy tears, drool, praise, handjob, overstimulation, multiple orgasms (m.receiving), Yoongi has a kink for being manhandled, male masturbation in shower, nipple sucking, cuddly aftercare, he's just a cute lil masochist who wants his balls busted and get hugs after <3

Wordcount: 2.5k

a/n: okay so, I'm trying trying the new format. istfg besties, Patreon is so stressful I might actually cry. idk how to do it so I'll like it 😭 okay so, my idea is that i'll post the story and a very cropped art preview (as seen on the header) here on Tumblr and if anyone wants to check out the full art to the story, they have to go to my Patreon. Engagement as far as stories is concerened is very bad on Patreon *glares* and I really miss yelling about the stories with you guys. So for my own peace of mind, i'll keep the stories on Tumblr and give all my true connoisseurs something extra spicy to thirst over on Patreon hehe <3 thank you for being patient with me. I promise to keep drawing and improving and to feed y'all thirsty hoes (affectionately) as much as I can 💜 also lmao those are long a/n fjajsdf have fun besties sorry it took a lil longer today, i tried to figure out how i wanna do sexy art of the month from now on fajdjfs

The bathroom is fogged up and smells heavily like Yoongi’s soap. Masculine, clean and expensive. You find yourself hazy because of it. What truly seals the state of you, however, is the view. Mirrors misted up, air milky from steam and right there in his expensive walk-in shower, Yoongi is having his throbbing cock in his tight fist. The water is turned off right now, but his body is still wet. His dark hair is slicked back, his silky skin is glistening and his head is tilted back in bliss as soft sighs slip past his pouty lips.

You walked in on him touching himself. You really didn’t plan on doing so, but can’t seem to get yourself to leave. Or to stop staring for that matter.

He has a languid rhythm going. Slow, but clearly skilled. His long fingers are wrapped tightly around his veiny cock. His thumb is drawing circles on his flushed tip and pretty frenulum. He is sensitive there, likes it especially when someone is being gentle with it. His dark nipples are hard and the pale skin around them is flushed as if he had played with them moments before. Knowing Yoongi, he did. He is such a slut for nipple play. He is so fucking tender there.

“Fuck”, Yoongi presses out breathily, gliding his left hand up his own torso as he fucks his cock slowly.

He is tensing and relaxing his stomach, broadening his stance as his knees wobble. He furrows his brows, biting down on his lower lip as small mewls leave him repeatedly. His long fingers close around his own biceps, giving it a needy squeeze. Look at the marks he leaves, look at how he is tensing his muscles.

You find yourself gulping and taking heavy breaths at the view.

What made him so goddamn needy?

One thing Yoongi rarely does, is to jerk off. He sees it as something useless because if he gets horny, he has you to take the burden off his shoulders. He also rarely gets horny without you in the first place, so there is that. So to have him so incredibly lost in masturbation is rare and therefore insanely addicting.

What made him so needy? Was it a memory? A fantasy? A picture or video? Was it nothing of that sorts and he merely touched his cock wrong as he cleaned himself? Did the water hit the right spot and trap him in the delicious sensation of its wet massage?

What did it to him?

“___”, Yoongi moans loudly, leaking onto the floor.

Your stomach clenches. Holy fuck. You did it to him. You did. The thought of you, the memory of your touch and the image of you did it to him. You let out a small gasp at the realisation.

Yoongi startles at the sound and opens his eyes. He stops, tenses up. You freeze, holding your breath. The air between you and him is tense and electric. He blinks at you, mouthing your name quietly.

“I uhm”, you begin, clearing your throat loudly.

He drops his hand from his biceps, tightening his fingers around his cock. He can’t seem to leave his trance of shock. The only indicator that the view of you is turning him on, is his increasing breathing and how needily his long fingers still hold his cock.

“I uhm, sorry. I wasn’t staring, I mean, I was but I- sorry, I uhm, I’m gonna leave now”, you stutter and turn to leave.

“Help me.”

You halt, wobbling slightly because he is making your knees buckle. You turn around, dancing your eyes over his body.

“Sorry?”

“Help me. Please”, he begs and tugs at his cock weakly, biting down on his lower lip as he does. Look at the needy kitten eyes he is making at you.

“Really?” you get out, feeling dizzy at the view. You want to ruin this man. You really do.

He nods his head, lowering his eyes at you. He is taunting you as much as he is begging you.

You do not bother to take off your clothes, he only has to nod his head twice and then you are already in the shower, eating him up with just your eyes.

Yoongi cups your face and kisses you. He mewls needily as he does it, sucking on your lips and tongue more than he actually kisses you. It is so lazy, so slow and yet so intensely passionate. He is so lost in you, so entirely addicted to your taste that he is solely running on it. Whatever he fantasised about before really did it to him. You feel up his torso hungrily, moaning at the delicious taste of him.

He is shivering with each touch, chasing the feeling of you with wiggles of his hips which force his cock to grind against your clothed stomach. The fabric of your hoodie feels rough against his sensitive tip. He craves the silkiness of your skin like plants crave sunlight.

He breaks the kiss with a sigh of your name, resting his forehead against yours.

“I was bad”, he breathes.

“You were?” you are kneading his waist, staring at his flushed face with hazy eyes.

“Yeah. Thought of you ‘til I got needy”, he rasps and mewls quietly, mouthing at the tip of your nose, “touched myself to you.”

“Fuck, Yoongi.”

“Punish me.”

“Punish you?”

“Please.”

You step back and pick up his cock so you could slap his tip. Gently for now, to test the waters.

Yoongi moans loudly, squeezing your cheeks softly. His knees buckle slightly.

“Like this, mhm?” you ask, slapping him again. Soft. Careful. Get him used to it. Or needy for more. You are fine with both options as long as it ends in your boyfriend panting and needy.

He scrunches his face in pleasure, letting out a shaky “mh-hm” before he follows it up with a breathy, “don’t stop please.”

“Fuck Yoongi, you’re driving me insane. You’re so hot.”

“I’m a bad slut”, he croaks.

“Yeah, the fucking worst. Bad slut, such a bad slut”, you growl, giving him harsh spanks. Now that you know he wants it, you are so happy to give it to him.

He takes each of your spanks with a blissed moan and a twitch of his cock. His pink tip got so much pinker ever since you started playing with him. His chest is flushed as well, looking so untouched.

You take his heavy cock between your fingers and pick up his favourite rhythm. Then you step closer to litter his chest with kisses. Wet and sloppy. You need to mark his skin as yours and taste him in the process.

Yoongi arches his back, dropping his head against the glass behind him. Your name slips past his lips, his hands grab your waist and squeeze.

“You’re a bad slut, Yoongi love, but you’re such a pretty slut at that”, you rasp and take his left nipple between your teeth. You tug on it, making him moan. You suck on it, making him mewl. You lick it, making him sigh your name.

He is tender there. Just as you said.

And as you give him heaven with just your mouth, your hands are busy feeling him up. Your right hand fucks his cock like it deserves to be fucked, while your left hand feels up his waist and hips. He fits so perfectly between your fingers. It is like he is made to be touched by you and only you. His skin is so soft and warm, leaving behind wetness on your fingertips from the previous shower. His cock is twitching so cutely in your hold.

You lift your lips from his right nipple after worshiping it as well, tilting your head so you are looking at his pretty face. You cup his pink cheek.

“Look at me.”

Yoongi obeys, fluttering his lashes at you. He is breathing so heavily, gazing at you as if you were his fucking everything.

“You’re a pretty slut. You know that, don’t you?”

He nods his head, choking out a shy “yeah.”

“You do. Good. Don’t forget it, kitten”, you order and slow your hand around his tip. It sits between your fingers. You increase the pressure slightly and move your hand again. Just a little, just enough that he’s getting fucked so good.

Yoongi gasps, widening his eyes for just a second before rolling them back.

“No, no look at me.”

Yoongi obeys with a mewl of your name.

“That’s better. I wanna look at your pretty eyes.”

“I have to cum”, he moans.

“Cause you’re looking at me?”

He nods his head, leaking all over your palm, “can’t hold it…like…this.”

“God, you lovedrunk slut, you”, you tease, giving his favourite spot a good rub.

“Please”, he begs, “please, can I cum?”

“Mhhm, don’t know. Do you deserve it?”

“Please I, mghm, I’ll give you head later”, he bargains with the prettiest kitten eyes.

“Obviously, you’re gonna do that anyways. Do better, Yoongi slut”, you warn, slowing down dangerously.

“Please”, he begs louder and thrusts his hips into your fist.

It earns him a harsh spank, “behave.”

“Fuck please. I-I’ll cockwarm you, promise I, I won’t move. Please.”

“But Yoongi, where is the fun in that? I’ll do that anyways. You know that bad, dirty jerk off sluts get cockwarmed”, you coo as your skilled fingers torture his flushed tip. He is burning up, smearing his precum all over your digits.

“I have to cum so bad”, he croaks and spills tears, “please can I cum? I’ll be so good please.”

“Fine. You can cum”, you say calmly even if your hand is giving his cock such a good fuck. He didn’t convince you, you just simply have a better way to ruin him how he so clearly craves.

“___”, he moans and closes his eyes sensually. Moments later, his swollen cock releases all over your hand. His knees buckle, he finds support by grabbing your shoulders and arching his back. His moan is loud and drawn-out.

“Look at you”, you moan with him, speeding up your hand now that he is giving you such a good show, “good slut, cum for me. That’s my good slut.”

Yoongi is shaking and trembling in bliss, but soon begins shaking and trembling for other reasons. You aren’t slowing down. His balls are empty, his cock so overstimulated, but you aren’t slowing down. You jerk off his cock as if it has a debt to pay, giving him burning heaven in the process.

He finally realises what he signed up for and that your sweet words were nothing but deception. He didn’t convince you. You aren’t done with him. One wasn’t enough.

“Please, please, pl-please”, he begs, trying to flee you as much as chases you.

“One more, kitten. Give me one more.”

“I can’t. Oh god, I can’t”, he mewls and stumbles as he tries to flee.

You grab him and pin him against the glass harshly, knocking a weak gasp out of him. His knees buckle, his teary eyes gaze at you with all the devotion he can muster. He loves when you’re rough with him, when you show him that he is yours to manhandle.

“Give me more”, you growl, speeding up around his cock.

“No please”, Yoongi mewls and tries to wiggle away just so you can put him back in his place. He parts his legs, hoping that you take the silent hint.

You do. Of course you do. You lift your knee against his balls hard enough that it hurts. Yoongi folds into himself with a pained moan, grabbing your waist. He is already so fucking hard again, throbbing in your hand as if he never released before.

“Stop fleeing me”, you growl and knee him again, twisting your hand around his burning tip at the same time.

Yoongi sobs, burying his face in your shoulder. It hurts so much. He has never been so fucking high on pleasure before. It feels so good. Yoongi swears every second is the best second he ever experienced.

“Understood? You do not flee me”, you give his tender balls one last harsh nudge with your knee, then grab his hair to pull his head back.

He coughs out a sob, spilling tears and drool all down his pretty face. He can barely even keep his eyes open, let alone stop them from crossing.

He is so pretty.

“What’s with that pretty face?” you challenge, pumping his overstimulated cock quickly as you grind your knee against his balls at the same time.

“Yours”, he croaks.

“That’s right. Mine. My pretty slut.”

“You’re making me cum.”

“See? I knew you could give me more. Don’t hold back, slut.”

“Knee. Please.”

You knee him a fourth time. Yoongi wails up, folding into himself in both pain and pleasure before spilling all over your hoodie and his stomach. So his balls weren’t empty yet. Of course they weren’t. You are proving to him how much of a slut he actually is.

He melts into you, shaking on your knee as your name leaves him like his prayer of bliss.

“Good slut, give me everything. Such a good slut. That’s so much better, I knew one wasn’t enough. Your pretty balls are never empty after only one. That’s it. Good slut”, you talk him through it, holding him safely as your hand milks him dry.

Soon Yoongi slacks into you, grabbing your wrist to stop your movements.

“No more.”

You don’t listen just to tease him, giving his burning tip a tight massage. He trembles and writhes, squeezing your wrist.

“Stop.”

You are going to stop, but first you need to tease him just a little more. A few more squeezes and rubs, a little pump and tug.

“Please”, he begs breathily, wiggling his hips away from you.

“You’re so cute”, you coo and finally drop his ruined cock.

“Thank you”, he sighs and sinks into you, hugging you tightly as he recovers.

You hug him back, tracing his spine.

“How was that, mhm?” you ask him, speaking in a soft voice.

He nods his head slowly, humming.

“Yeah? Was it good for you?”

“Was perfect”, he lulls and purrs contently, “thank you. I love you.”

“I love you too.”

“Oh god, I need to lie down now”, he says and chuckles, “my balls are so fucking tender.”

“I can imagine. I kicked them really hard. Are you okay? Should I get something for the pain?”

He shakes his head, “you did it so right. Thank you so much.”

You smile, “that’s good to hear. You’re such a good boy.”

Yoongi nuzzles his nose against your neck and purrs softly, melting under your praise. You know exactly how to love him.

“I love you so much”, he mumbles.

“I love you too.”

“I actually wanna lie down though.”

You chuckle, “okay, okay let’s get you cleaned up and cozy. You’re gonna get back scratches in bed”, you say as you lead him to the shower head.

“And ear rubs.”

“And ear rubs. As my prince wishes”, you say and turn on the water to wash away the mess he left. Yes, you will change into different clothes, “how’s the temperature, love?”

“Good. Nice.”

“Yeah? Is it good how I’m touching you?” you ask as you clean his cock and balls with gentle fingers.

He nods his head, “hm.”

“Good. God, Yoongi love, you’re so handsome.”

Yoongi blushes, lowering his eyes shyly. Yeah, you definitely know how to love him.

435 notes · View notes

jiminrings · 2 months

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.

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