•••> Summary:“No specter assails us in more varied disguises than loneliness, and one of its most impenetrable masks is called love.” —Arthur Schnitzler
•••> Warnings:smut, unprotected sex, fucking a stranger, public bathroom sex, mention of contraceptives, mention of knife play, mention of war, mention of mass murder, supernatural/fantasy sex, aggressive reader, Jimin is a lil snake, aggressive sex, threatening with knife, unwanted soulmate connection, mention of post-war trauma, mafia business. You know the drill. If you don’t want to read,don’t.If you’re under 18,don’t.
Part of the War of Love BTS Mafia Collab, hosted by @sugakookitty and @yutasthetic! Thanks for letting me collab with you guys!
His eyes are dark pools of curiosity as you meet them across the room.
Lights flash and bodies thrash to the beat of the music, yet the passionate chaos is all a blur when you catch his attention.
His gaze startles you at first, conveyed with the way you flinch when you catch it, and it turns smug when he lets the small smirk nudge the corner of his full lips upward. A small ring in the center of his bottom lip catches one of the strobe lights for the tiniest of moments.
By the looks of it, he’s a wannabe. The teardrop tattooed on his left cheekbone paired with his beautifully unmarred skin and richly blue hair is a dead giveaway that he’s never seen the actual horrors of the underground. You eye the attention-grabbing clothes he wears critically- a royal blue muscle shirt and black pants that hug his legs- and see the innocent aura he presents to the club. Still, there’s an intensity in his eyes that you can’t ignore. It seems to pull you in like a cosmic vacuum.
Seokjin leans into your shoulder to yell something in your ear, but you don’t hear it; a drink gets tipped over on your table, but you don’t mind it; Namjoon stumbles into the VIP section and sprawls himself out on the couch while Jungkook stops and turns to stand guard at the entrance of your caged-off section on the balcony, but you don’t spare either man a glance.
The man across the room is utterly enrapturing and you don’t have the slightest idea as to why.
Maybe it’s because he’s actually looking at you when he shouldn’t even be able to perceive your presence.
The steady flow of your umbra is a reminder that you’re still channeling it, so it confuses you even further when his stare on you continues.
Immediately on the alert, you raise your hand into the air to signal your leave- it’s not specifically conveying that you are leaving, but that Namjoon will be removed from your protection and that someone needs to take your place- and you exit the section with a light brush of your shoulder against Jungkook’s. He nods curtly in recognition of your departure yet keeps his well-trained eyes on the crowd that humps and bumps below him.
How can he see you? You furrow your eyebrows in concerned confusion as you walk away from the Cypher of Bangtan, down the stairs, and into the crowd with the unknown man at the forefront of your mind. Is he an Oracle?
Your body seems to be moving on autopilot as you carry yourself closer and closer to the wannabe. He stands against the far wall, making it hard for you to maintain eye-contact with him, so you give up and duck your head to return your presence to the shadows.
People can still see you if they know what they are looking for, however, no one in the entire club, aside from your small circle, knows who you are nor what you actually look like. Your natural ability allows you to draw your umbra over your face and become ablind spot. It is because of this fact that you are even more intrigued by the stranger who can see you.
Your job is to be inconspicuous- to be a ghost-as the Cypher’s First Protector. Namjoon chose you to fill the slot, becoming the first of the many wise decisions he made as the new leader of Bangtan.
One of his most recent decisions wasn’t so… wise.In fact, it makes your job much harder.
Even as you approach the one with the irresistible eyes, you host a twinge of spite whilst remembering how your leader demanded your visible presence at tonight’s festivities. Although you have to be visible to him, he didn’t specify that you had to be visible to everyone, so, since the start of the party, you’ve been concealing yourself from everyone except him.
And, apparently, the stranger.
No one makes way for you because they cannot see you, but it doesn’t make your path towards the man any less difficult. You skate around them easily.
Sweaty bodies grind into each other as the dark purple lights and green lasers flash across them. The DJ for tonight plays bass-boosted remixes of songs that you know well and, surprisingly, the crowd is mostly on beat with her. She raises a hand in the air and points to the ceiling with each heavy thump of the beat.
Plenty of people, you find, smile and scream happily despite the sweat dripping down their foreheads. You’ve been to this club many times since Namjoon bought it those few years ago but never before have you seen this many people so joyous at the same time. It must be a celebration of sorts but it is one you do not know what for.
You nod your head to the beat ever so slightly as you continue your path towards the far wall.
Coming up to the wall where the man was perched, you find that the stranger has left. Men stand, drinking and replicating your nodding to the beat, on either side of the empty spot where he was squished into before. Remnants of dustri leave you puzzled when you carefully get closer to the spot to test it.
You are noTaster; you cannot detect the use of this man’s powers, however, despite your inability to identify what he’s done, you can still detect that he did, for whatever reason, use it while he stood here. If it wasn’t for the intensity of his stare into your soul, you’d convince yourself that he’s new to using his ability by the way he so carelessly leaves tracks behind.
But he isn’t an amateur- you knowhe isn’t. For reasons unknown, this man wants you to follow him.
You turn and search the crowd for him with your umbra pulsing particularly strong to avoid unwanted eyes picking up on your search, but he is nowhere to be seen. Not a single, blue-haired head in sight. The lights continue to flash in the darkness of the room but you don’t need the light to search. You are a Ghost- a Shadow; you see just as well in the dark as you do in the light.
Briefly, you eye the Cypher of Bangtan through the crowd and note the way Jungkook’s shields have slipped just slightly since you left.
As Bangtan’s Ghost, their resident Exspiravit, you see the Unseen. Can manipulate the shadows of that which remain hidden. Jungkook’s shields are an invisible force to all except Oracles, other Shields like him, and you, yet even he forgets that you are able to physically perceive his ability.
His dark hair falls in his face and his figure slouches against the railing while he slides his hands into the pockets of his black joggers. Slacker. You’d have to give him a few lessons in the ring later.
Instead of heading back over to the men of the Cypher to reprimand your Second, you decide to follow the trail of the mystery man’s dustri. Your suspicions are raised with his antics so you willtrack him to secure Namjoon’s safety if not anything else.
You inhale a deep sigh and begin your pursuit.
The trail leaves you with a sweet taste on your tastebuds as you follow it out of the main room. Ever so subtly, you press your tongue to the roof of your mouth to try retaining the color of his taste on your palate.
It’s been an incredibly long time since you last came into contact with someone’s dustri. All beings who wield gifts possess dustri, yet no dustrial person would be stupid enough to let anyone but their loved ones contact their dustri. For some reason, this man lets you test his.
Your skin thrums with his energy when you feel the trail get stronger. The sweetness of him develops on your tastebuds the further you walk and it is then that his taste color manifests into a rich, dark blue. The notes of his pulsed echoes send slight shockwaves to the back of your neck where the hairs stand up.
His power is addictive as you follow it down the corridor towards the bathrooms.
You become acutely aware of the six knives strapped to your thighs and the small pistol holstered to your hip, concealed from others by your umbra, due to the potential that this situation could turn out to be a trap. Many mafias around the country would kill Namjoon in a heartbeat if they had the chance and killing you would be a heavy blow to his defense.
Although you are the First Protector and the strongest line of defense against an attack, Jungkook has taken up the false image of being First to ensure better security- just as Namjoon is Seokjin’s supposed underboss- and it is in this farce that lies the ability to expose moles within the group. If the truth became uncovered and you were to be killed, it would leave no doubt of a leak within the Cypher.
The track of the man’s power pulsates from the men’s restroom when you come to stand in front of it. Even as your palms tingle and your bones vibrate, you prepare yourself for the worst- the best being that you get a quickie with a stranger in.
With a swift push, you open the door and charge inside.
The lights are off. Your umbra automatically trembles with power in the darkness and it races to overtake every crevice that lacks luminescence. It stretches from within your chest and connects you to the shadows of the room whilst the door to the hall closes behind you and completely encases you in abyss.
“If you think you can hide,” You speak for the man to hear, extending your dark dominion to each part of the room. “You cannot.”
Your shadows race to eat up the natural shadows of the area, hungry to dominate every inch of space and make it their own. Make it your space. Make it your home.
Suddenly, you’re aware of the pocket that goes unabsorbed by your ability. It shudders under the weight of your umbra yet maintains its shape. Your heart jumps with adrenaline because it makes absolutely no sense.
The entire room is dark so it should be entirely yours to encompass. The small space that resists your energy is drenched in darkness when you look at it, yet it still does not allow your umbra inside it while it begins a slow waltz toward you. With a staggered breath, you push against the space to no avail.
“You know,”
His voice is sin. It’s breathless yet supported by a thousand shadowed whispers as it skates along the shell of your ear with a soft brush of a lip to the skin of your sternum. Where your dustri is.
“I couldn’t actually see you up there. I only sensed you.”
You cannot see him. Whatever his power is, it is able to reflect your umbra away from his body in a way that shields him from your view with your own shadows. Although the pocket of him is small underneath your power, it retains its shape and wavers in front of you.
Like it’s teasing you.
“Who are you?” Your voice is a contribution to your power, layering it on even more harshly than before as you attach your umbra to your sound waves. Where there is sound, there is the absence of it that follows- an emptiness that can be filled.
You place a hand over the first of the three knives on your right thigh, preparing to use it as he gets closer to you.
Instead of answering your question, he continues his approach. “I wasn’t aware of an Exspiravitian in our ranks.”
You take a defensive step back to make your stance stronger and draw your first knife out of its sheath when the decreasing distance between the two of you becomes threatening. Despite the allure of his voice and his supposed membership in the Bangtan mafia, you must maintain your defense until you identify him, for he does not have the neck tattoo that associates him with you.
“What’s it to you, boyscout?” You growl the name degradingly because it is another form of defense. Anyone not within the Cypher should notknow of you. His discovery of who you are proves that he is lowly in the chain of command- if he’s in it- yet incredibly dangerous.
The venom in your voice seems to make him hesitate and falter his steps to a stop, answering with a lilt in his tone.
“Don Jin didn’t tell me another one of our kind was in the gang.”
Even as he says the words, you are surprised when his shape suddenly billows out against your dominion, fighting with vigor against it until it creates its own considerable orb of shadows in the room. It demands to be noticed.
His shadows are the darkest of blues you’ve ever seen, almost as black as your obsidian ones, and you find that they look so similar to yours that you have to look a little harder to find where yours stop and his begin. No one but the Exspiravitians- not even an Oracle gifted with the ability to See- would be able to tell the difference between the shade of your umbra and his.
The pull in it is next to impossible to resist. It makes a sinful, delectable, and sapid smog that threatens your desire to continue your dominance of the room. You want to absorb the color into your flesh and relish in the feel of it spilling out of your pores.
As much as you want to sink into him and let his shadows consume yours, you cannot let him under your skin. The sentiment is too dangerous with your differing positions in Bangtan. With the thought in mind, you take a mental step back.
You study the magnitude of his powers quickly and find that they are no match for yours. With each pulsation of his energy, you become endeared by the defiant fight they maintain. It’s enough to explain how he was able to perceive you up on the balcony; it confirms that he is, indeed, Exspiravitian.
Just like you.
“I was merely curious, Ghost.” He speaks again in the wake of your silence, using the slang word as if you are already friends with him. His shadows recede- much to your dislike- until they stick to his body like a second skin. The retreat allows for you to see his face and eyes once more. He is beautiful. “I meant no offense with my advances.”
“Are you new to it?” You brush off his prior statement, desperate to move on. He nods once as a response and you subsequently eye his bare neck critically. “Where’s your mark?”
“I get it tomorrow.” He responds quickly. “It’s initiation night.”
As someone who’s sole job is to protect the boss, it’s easy for you to forget that there are other operations aside from yours. What he’s told you finally makes Namjoon’s demand for your presence make sense. Of course he wanted you here; he wanted you to see the faces of the new recruits.
You shake your head at yourself and roll your eyes, going back to addressing his callous actions. “Watch who you advance, boyscout. The gang is not as forgiving as I am.”
What you’ve just told him is a complete lie; you are actually the least forgiving member of Bangtan. It is your job to rid the Don of anyone and anything that poses a potential threat. It doesn’t matter if they are actually innocent or not because if Namjoon wants them gone, they are gone.
But there is something about this man that rewrites your being as you stand in front of him. Something that instigates you to bend to him and his will.
And the statement you’ve just told him becomes only partially a lie as you realize this.
“Does that insinuate that I’m supposed to be glad you’re not using your knife on me?”
With his question, you’re instantly reminded of the knife that you hold defensively, at the ready. You lower it with a quirk of your eyebrow and a scoff in disbelief.
“Does that insinuate that you want me to use my knife on you?” You counter, ready for a brief tussle.
He smirks and it is an outright deadly expression on his handsome face. “Only if you make the intention behind its use less lethal and a little more… innovative.”
Your body is flying towards him and pinning him to the wall before you can even process what you are doing. The obvious flirtation from his position pushed too many of your buttons.
Threateningly, you press your knife into his throat and hiss. “I could kill you without batting an eye.”
His smirk doesn’t leave his lips and you discover an itch on your own when you notice how plump his actually are. They part as he exhales a breath from your arm digging into his chest.
You’re also thrown by the way he doesn’t attempt to defend himself.
“Is that why you still won’t let me see your face, Ghost? Because you don’t look your opponent in the eye?”
The frustration within you boils to a peak from his words because he has just taken a stab at your honor- a concept your people value. You angle the blade into his neck a little harder and watch as he winces just slightly. It helps you calm your racing heart just a little because, for some reason, the sight doesn’t sit quite right with you.
“Shut your mouth, boyscout. You don’t know who you’re playing with.”
The man’s blue hair has fallen over his eyes in the process of you shoving him against the wall. It sways with his breaths onto your nose tauntingly, daringyou to reach up and brush it away. You don’t.
“No?” He asks. The way he contorts his smile conveys that he knows something. The suspicion puts you back on edge immediately. “Let me learn then.”
It’s too late before you realize that, within the span of a few seconds, he has pooled his umbra below your feet to snake up and inch towards your back. As soon as he finishes his sentence, it closes around you.
Instinctively, you pull your umbra close to your body and push outward to keep his at bay, yet it is not enough to keep it from touching your body in certain places. The minimal amount of direct contact with it allows you to read the intentions of his aura.
Your grip on your knife falters slightly as his intentions come rushing at you all at once.
His aura is intoxicating, delectable, completely piquant as it washes over you. Even as you continue your resistance against him, you can taste his intentions on the tip of your tongue. It takes everything within you resist it because by the gods, he wants to fuck you against the stall so bad.
The man wants to taste your umbra all over his tongue. Wants it to spill on his face and rake down his back as he grabs you by your delicious thighs and pistons you into the stall behind you. Even as his hand comes up to just barely encircle the arm you use to keep him in his spot, he wants to cover you in his umbra until you know nothing but the taste of him.
Andoh, how you want to drown in him.
The connection you have with him is instantaneous even though you have not merged your shadows with his. You fight his umbra- again, it cannot do anything but tremble teasingly, unmoving against your own- but find that the only thing stopping you from giving in is the idea of fraternization.
With you being unknown, your position nonexistent to him, it quickly diminishes as a problem and reopens your willingness for a quickie.
His shadows inch closer to your chest where you keep your dustri tightly locked into place. Each passing second dwindles your need to resist him and allows his shadows to travel up along your body more provocatively.
“You,” You grit your teeth and tighten your hold on the handle of your blade when his shadows rise just enough to curl into the dip of your hip. He shapes them into fingers that gently prod at your skin. “You are evil.”
“Only if you want me to be, princess.” The pearly white teeth in his grin are insidious.
You have to give it to him. The man played you right into his hands when he saw that he was outmatched. Rather than struggle aimlessly against yours, he strategized a way to get you into a position where he had a better chance to gain the upper hand. Rather than try to win the battle of dustri with brawn, he used his head instead.
It’s kind of… hot.
You recoil at the thought and push against his umbra again, keeping it at bay and suspended as it ever so subtly cups your backside.
You chastise yourself for finding it hot when a man uses his head and not his dick.
Gnashing your teeth together, you double your effort into shoving your arm into his chest and keeping the point of your knife pressed to his carotid artery.
“Easy, Ghost,” He slowly lowers his hand from your wrist and, instead, curls it into the flesh of your waist. Your breath hitches at the gentle tone he uses. It’s almost… kind. “I just want to see your face.”
The request is a simple one, but it is one you can’t honor because it is one that places Namjoon at risk. If it wasn’t for the pull he exhumes onto you, you would be telling him to fuck off by now.
For whatever godforsaken reason, though, you want to be seen by him in any way that you can. Your soul begs to be revealed to his prying eyes so that it may fill the emptiness in his gaze with you. Your umbra, as a result of your dustri’s intentions, pulls back from your eyes to allow him the smallest glimpse of you.
The man’s body goes slack as he makes actual eye contact with you for the first time. He exhales shakily, grip trembling against your waist.
“Me solum,” He speaks the words in the ancient tongue of your people- a language you haven’t heard since you were a mere child. “It’s you.”
“Don’t play games with me, Exspiravit,” You bite the name out with disgust. “I am no stranger to the tactic.”
“Sentire cor meum, me solum.” He looks down at your shrouded lips with a look of bewilderment taking control of his eyes. You find it hard to believe what he speaks.
His use of the mother tongue does not bring you comfort nor does it add to his efforts of trying to woo you- if you ignore the way your body practically purrs from the sound of it- and you almost snarl at him because of the dark memories that come with your ability to understand him.
“English, motherfucker.”
He looks taken aback by your hostility again, confused with your reaction, yet presses his efforts forward.
“Feel me. Feel my heart.” Without missing a beat, he whispers and removes his umbra from his chest to expose his dustri to you.
Waves of blues and blacks cascade from his sternum, pouring out at you in search of an umbra’s protective cradle to keep it safe. You suck in a startled breath, shocked by its pure vulnerability as it cries out for your protection.
Before you have the chance to think twice about it, your umbra responds to your dustri’s intentions and swoops in to cup his in its grasp.
Midnight blue blossoms behind your fluttering eyelids as your body jerks forward to press against him. As if he was waiting for you, his umbra caves in to crush you to his flesh and ensure your tight support of his dustri. Your umbra vibrates with electrified vigor, an energy that seems to awaken parts within you that you were unaware of before. Is he telling you the truth?
Too many emotions fly at you at once, one of them being the shock you feel due to his sudden exposure. Exposing dustri is an incredibly dangerous act, especially with a stranger, and you can’t even begin to stress over the fact that he’s baring himself to you in the bathroom of Bangtan’s nightclub.
Your grip on your knife loosens even more as your chest presses up against the man’s. It goes clattering to the floor, forgotten.
He whines as you penetrate his chest with your shadows to fully encompass his dustri. His body shudders at the welcome violation of his most secure place and he lets his lips hang open to pant at the alien feeling. His umbra flows freely out of his mouth, served on the silver platter of his plump lips, like an irresistible dessert.
Your haste to completely encase him within your dominion goes forgotten as you zero in on the offering hungrily.
You’re mindless. The feeling of his vulnerable energy within your space is a sensation you have no idea how you lived without. It sucks your power in and pushes it back out, changed, although you don’t know if the change is good or awful.
In a violent detonation of dark tendrils, your lips meet.
His shadows are cool and inviting as you press into them with your tongue and inhale them down your throat. The contact is otherworldly and addicting, pushing you to open your lips against his and messily lick into his mouth to take another mouthful. He exhales another cloud of his dark limbs onto your eager tongue whilst he hungrily returns your kiss.
They curl down into your lungs, filling them into a veritable void of intoxicating darkness. When they cannot seem to dip into the shell you keep around your own dustri, they curl further down into your belly and pulse into the apex of your thighs. As his umbra seeks to consume your dustri like you’ve done his, it also comes to swallow your body below your hips and press up, up, up…
With a tedious tendril, the blue-haired man licks a shadow against your clothed folds.
Your legs turn to jelly as white hot desire washes through your core, driving your knees slightly apart to allow more of his attention. You almost slump your entire body weight into him, digging your nails into his shoulders to keep yourself upright, as he repeats the action again with a pained grunt.
The man’s hands encircle your waist and lock you against him as he leans into the kiss. You can’t help but raise your arms to loop around his neck and respond to his efforts with your own fervor.
In your weakened state, it’s hard to remember when he started moving you, yet you come to forget about it as he cages you into the cool metal of the first stall to keep you from leaving- not that you’d want to.
The man’s darkness oozes from him in waves when you let him pick you up by the backs of your thighs. It encases you in a pillowy cradle of safety and assists him in pinning you to the hard surface as if he is seating you in a cocooned swing.
For a moment, your lips part so that you can suck in actual air. A string of saliva clings to your bottom lip and his, stretching and then breaking as you part.
“Jimin,” He breathes, moving his lips to the side of your neck. It throws you off for a split second. “My name is-”
You cut him off, panicked. “Don’t tell me your fucking name, imbecile.”
But it’s too late. You know his name and it’s perfect. It’s everything you expected but so much more.
Jimin. Your other half.
Your umbra lashes out at him, wrapping around his body like flailing vines to secure his waist and hips between your legs. It’s too much pull for his shoulders to resist and they are forced to meet your own.
Chest to chest, Jimin fumbles with the button and zipper of your pants. He struggles within the confines of your umbra’s tight hold on him but, as soon as he gets the zipper all the way down, his own shadows pour down the front of your panties and flood the accumulation of your arousal to pool against your sex.
Instead of the coolness you swallowed into your lungs, it’s a lukewarm and pulsing heat that laps at your cunt like a steady tide. Jimin uses his umbra so that it doesn’t carry physicality when it comes into contact with your flesh, but that it acts as an energy that thrums into your nerves to remind you that you’re not imagining things.
You gasp into the storm of his shadows, craning your head back into the stall and relishing in the feeling of his tendrils tickling against your temples. You’re smart enough to know that he seeks access to your mind but you’re not stupid enough to allow it. The reserves of umbra you keep close to your dustri also fortify over your head to prevent him from getting in.
“Fuck.” Your expletive is swallowed by his smog and absorbed into absolute silence. You only know that you say it aloud because of the way your throat vibrates.
Your shadows are driven by your desire to touch Jimin, and they follow your intentions with long wisps that slide below his blue muscle shirt and adhere to each of his fine lines. Hesitantly, you raise one to nudge against his nipple.
With a full body jerk and a low groan, the Exspiravit seats his cock between your legs. “Your umbra. It’s so…” He hisses as you slide your shadows down to the bottom of his stomach. “… it’s so dark.”
The man’s body is pressed too close to yours to see his face and you are left to stare out into the abyss of his blue umbra. It churns in a tight pocket around your joined bodies, sinking into any space that happens to be made so that no particle of air goes unclaimed by its dominion.
Even though the man is a complete stranger, being called his solum- his only-makes you bristle with pride. So far in your haze with him, you don’t pay attention to what you’re saying as you dip your own shadows into his jeans to engulf his hardening cock.
“It was forged in Summa Tenebris.” You breathe out.
Suddenly, he freezes and his breath stutters on your neck.
“You…” His shadows pull away as he pushes off of your shoulders to look at you. You’re pulled away from your stupor with the action and realize what you’ve just told him.
“You fought?”
“I was fifteen,” is your answer. You can’t look him in the eye as you say the words that confirm your participation in the war- one that tore a gaping hole into the Exspiravitian people- because you host the same guilt that you did all those years ago when you were a naive soldier.
The people were destroyed because of your extremist faction; you were lucky that you were spared simply because of how young you were, yet it was not enough to keep them from banishing you from Velum, your home.
Jimin’s shock goes unconcealed in the way his eyes darken with pity. “You were only a child.”
“I know.” You say, pulling him by the neck to return to your close proximity. “Let’s not worry about that right now.”
The man holds you differently now. You can feel the hesitation in the way his fingers curl into you. As if you would end him at any moment.
If you truly wanted to, you could.
It would be simple to release the darkness of Summa Tenebris upon him. It’s in your nature as a developed product of it.
The children who were just beginning to develop their umbras were forced into the war so that their shadows could pick off of the death around them. Absorbing the evil darkness from those slain was your mission. Your umbra would come to encompass so much evil that it would turn into the most lethal of shades inVelum.
Obsidian.
You were dealt the unfortunate hand of being one of the only surviving ones once Velum was able to put a stop to your force. Barely a handful of children made it through the Judgement and all of you were exiled from ever returning. It’s been so long that, even if you wanted to return, you don’t know how.
Jimin gradually returns his shadows to your body as the seconds pass, the feel of your pull on him too much to resist for very long. You slowly get back into the moment of fucking a stranger in a bathroom until, finally, he’s spinning you around, pressing your cheek up against the cool surface, and pulling your pants down to your thighs.
“You are dangerous to me, Exspiravit,” he says, slipping a hand down to roughly grab onto one of your ass cheeks. “But this ass is deadly.”
You scoff breathlessly, canting your hips back to press yourself into him. His shadows lick more adamantly into your cunt yet do not breach through. He teases and flirts with your entrance, knowing fully well that he cannot manifest himself to fuck you like that, and it drives you crazy.
“Then how about you fuck me before I kill you?”
Jimin presses the tip of his cock into your folds. “As you wish.”
You can hear the smirk in his voice as he dives inside.
The dive burns. You hiss through your teeth and jam your forehead into the cool metal of the stall for comfort, yet all you find is a harsh cold that makes you greet the reality of your hookup with Jimin.
His hips meet the flesh of your ass after only a few seconds. It feels like an eternity since he first moved forward but you know that it has only taken a small amount of moments to get there.
Yoursolumgrabs onto your neck and leans into you, pressing his nose into your temple as you raise your top lip into a snarl.
“Shit.” You growl when he gyrates his hips to better seat himself inside. “You’re pretty big.”
“Was made for you.” He whispers. “Was made to fuck this pussy.”
He rears back slowly, letting you feel just how many inches he speared you with as he leaves. The friction of his retreat on your pussy lips is absolutely insane and you just haveto lean back to return him to his previous depth.
Jimin’s hips surge forward again, but this time, there’s no break in movement that allows you the chance to adjust. Instead, the Ghost sets a brutally rough pace.
Your forehead occasionally thunks against the wall of the stall, your back arches painfully yet pleasingly, and your legs widen needily. You know there’s no way someone wouldn’t have a clear grasp of what is currently transpiring if they were to step inside the bathroom.
You should be ashamed really, but you can’t afford to dedicate time to such inconsequentialities when the man’s cock starts to constantly ram against the deepest spot in your cunt, making you see fucking stars every time you close your eyes.
But then, you remember Jimin’s impressive umbra. It swallows any sound made. Conceals any movement taken. Realistically, if anyone were to walk in on your little moment, they would merely see the bathroom stall rocking back and forth and think, hm, well that’s strange.
Unless they turned the lights on.
Turning the lights on would force Jimin’s shadows to retreat. They would stand no chance against the lights of this dimension, a drawback that comes with their hue not being completely black. It would reveal you, face harshly shoved against the wall and eyes glazed over with pleasure, as you took countless backshots from the blue-haired man.
You’d also have to restrain from pummeling them into fucking purgatory if they tried to interrupt your session with light.
Jimin’s hands are strong as he latches them onto your hips and you resort to grabbing the top of the stall to keep yourself upright when he uses the new leverage to force your body back into his momentum. His pull drives his dick even harder into the tightness of your pussy until his hips begin clapping against your ass so provocatively that you feel the burn of red on your cheeks become even hotter with sexual mortification.
“Fuck, Jimin,” You gasp his name before you can stop yourself.
He groans against your ear sinfully. “Yes, baby. Say my fucking name.”
You moan brokenly, caught between the pleasure of giving him what he wants and the thrill of keeping what he desires out of his grasp. It’s shameless to say his name so loud- frankly, it’s shameless that you’re saying his name at all given the fact that you’ve only just met him- but the way his hands hold you just a bit tighter and the press of his chest just a bit closer onto your back does things to you that you can’t seem to comprehend.
You dig your forehead into the stall to bite back the slight amount of pain that comes with the Ghost’s sharp movements. It also stops you from banging it too hard. At this rate, his strong thrusts could give you a concussion if you’re not careful.
Jimin’s hip stutter momentarily and his speed slows, signaling that his hurtle towards his climax will begin if he doesn’t slow down. He wants to savoryou.
“What’s your name?” His breaths are deep and fast from the effort he’s put into breaking your back.
You release the wall and place your hand back on his hip, pushing him away and out of you so that you can turn around to face him.
Quickly, you unclip your holsters and shimmy your pants down to the floor with thoughts of getting this over with in mind. You laugh in disbelief as you step out of them. “Why the fuck would I tell you that?”
Your shadows encase him in their hold, pulling him to your body so that you can pull him back into you. When you look down, you almost forget how to breathe because of how delicious his dick looks, straining out from under his shirt and covered in your shiny slick.
He returns his hands to your hips and lifts, urging you to jump up. You follow his direction shortly after and lock your ankles behind his back.
“Because you are my solum.You are my only in this dimension.” Jimin sucks in air through his teeth as he lets his dick slide back into you. "You don’t have to hide your face from me.”
“Says you.” You crane your head back into the stall and revel in the feeling of your ass meeting his pelvis. Then, your clit rubs into his skin because of how deeply your body sucks him in.
No man has ever made you feel so full, so complete, and it’s a fullness that completely wipes you of common sense. A completion that penetrates so far that you can feel him in your heart.
You look down at where your bodies join and find that he does the same with eyes full of wonder. “Fuck, how can you fit all of me? This hasn’t-” His voice falters and his mouth lies agape whilst your walls involuntarily constrict around him for a moment. “Shit-this hasn’t happened before.”
Then, as if he’s just realized what you’ve said, he snaps his head up to look at you. His eyes pierce into you with a need to fill you. To fill your emptiness with him. To occupy all absence with presence. The look he gives you makes your toes curl and your breathing falter with anticipation. Those damned eyes.
“You don’t believe me?” He leans his body into yours and crushes you to the wall. “You don’t feel the singularity in your dustri?”
You grit your teeth in denial as he thrusts into you, shoving his dick into the wall of your womb like a promise. It demands to be noticed and addressed and persistently digs there to accompany his words to you.
“No.” You lie.
Because your pride won’t let you admit that you feel his umbra crowding the protective shell around your dustri like his dick adamantly presses into your cervix. It fights for any soft point on the surface, seeking a weakness to infiltrate and fill. He wants to take over your senses until you know nothing but him just like you did to him.
“Let me in.” He growls, pressing his teeth into the side of your neck where your tattoo lies. Then, he lowers his hands to the bottom of your ass and spreads it to allow him just the slightest bit more room. “Let me-” He rears back and returns with a punishingly deep stroke. “-In.”
Your thighs quiver, a motion set forth by the stab of the head of his dick into your fragility. It’s molten hot as you struggle to accommodate him gliding through your muscles and his umbra pressing forcefully against your dustri.
Tears collect in your eyes and you squeeze them shut in the fight to fend off the mindlessness. He deep strokes you passionately, roughly, and uses the slow rhythm as reprimand for your stubbornness.
His shadows crowd your vulnerable dustri, desperate to get inside, with such haste that you can physically feel them pouring like a torrent into your chest.
“Let me in. Let me see your face.” He whispers pleadingly.
Suddenly, the door to the bathroom opens and you whip your head to the sight of light pouring into the room. A silhouette takes a single step inside.
As if instinct takes over, your umbra bursts from within you and envelops the two of you. A maelstrom of darkness sweeps your senses and turns everything pitch black. Now that you have a hold on Jimin’s dustri, though, you are able to fully crowd him inside your dominion and pull him in with you.
Your back phases through the stall. Jimin follows as his fingers dig into your asscheeks.
A hum of environment licks against your skin as the man lets out a sound of shock and pulls back. Obviously, he wasn’t expecting to be pulled into another Ghost’s dimension.
“Wha-how-” He stutters with wide eyes, dumbfounded.
“Summa Tenebris.” You answer him in a whisper, manipulating the small oblivion you have formed to keep your bodies separated from the light dimension.
The darkness cocoons you until you can see only him. As an extension of your being, it takes action when you do not, pressing against your backs and urging you into each other so that you can continue.
Jimin’s dick pulses against your insides with a newfound sense of privacy. No one will hear either of you now. You can make as much sound as you want without the risk of someone else feasting their eyes on your private moment. He does not further the conversation because he understands the magnitude of your power now.
“Let me in, me solum.” He breathes, although it is not with his voice that he says this. Your ears do not perceive the request because it is not audible. The sound of it does not pass through the pocket of space in your limitless darkness. Instead, his emotions tell you his request in a language you are all too familiar with.
Your eyes roll back in complete bliss as his dustri washes over your being. The darkness of Summa Tenebris vibrates with his energy coursing through it and it makes the surrounding area of your dimension fizzle with built-up power. His lips stay fused to your skin as he resumes his heavy pace into your body.
His voice is almost broken with effort. “Please.”
For the first time in years, you speak your mother tongue comfortably because it is the only way to get him to understand. You are buried so far in the throes of his passion that you can’t find enough focus to think of your past.
“It is too dangerous, Ghost.“ You gasp. "I cannot open myself to you.”
He cocks his head in concern and responds to you in the same dialect, slowing his pace. “Why, my only? Who else do you belong to that you cannot give yourself to me?”
Your instincts tell you to run. To shove the two of you back into the light dimension, pull your pants up, and leave him there so that you can avoid putting anyone in danger. You cannot tell him that you hold yourself back because you cannot risk Namjoon’s cover.
But his body inside yours, his blazing hot skin setting yours alight, his dustri willingly flowing through your bloodstream- the sensations keep you grounded in your oblivion and fused to him like an addicting drug that has hooked you for life. He is increasingly difficult to resist.
“You cannot know.” You say, your tongue curling around the Exspiravitian words like you never went a day without speaking it.
The language itself holds power within its articulation. The syllables carry a great energy that flows into instant understanding. Knowing his heartbreak with his question breaks you too, but him knowing why you cannot tell him sets the empathy in so fast that he seems to nod into the junction of your neck and shoulder.
He sighs, continuing his deliberate rhythm into your body as if he isn’t having a full conversation with you. “You are afraid the knowledge will hurt me.”
Jimin says the statement with disbelief, illuminating how preposterous the sentiment is to him. He wants to know you so that he may carry the burden of your identity alongside you. He believes that he can protect you from the secrets that you carry, but he is dead wrong.
You are the First Protector of the Cypher of Bangtan. You must protect Namjoon above anyone else.
“The knowledge will hurt you.” You breathe the sentence out haggardly as your pussy clenches around him more frequently. Your orgasm gradually approaches. “Do not get any closer.”
Suddenly, his dustri changes. You dig your nails into his back as he withdraws it from your dark clutches and pulls it back within his chest. You desperately grapple to hold onto it, yet his connection with his own dustri is too strong for you to maintain your possession of it.
Completely devoid of Jimin’s dustri yet overridden with his umbra, you wheeze weakly at the loss of his power in your dominion.
Ever so slowly, the two of you are brought back to the light dimension. You are powerful enough to maintain your own presence within your dimension, but without his dustri channeling more strength into your umbra, you can’t hope to maintain him with you. You’re left no choice but to follow with him physically connected to you.
The bathroom stall returns to your back, cold and hard as a harsh reminder that he withdrew his energy from you. Still, though, he longdicks you like he has a personal vendetta against you. You clutch onto him for dear life as your back shifts up and down the metal with each shcluck of his cock into your cunt.
“Youwillopen yourself to me.” He bites in English. No longer is the conversation intimate enough for the Exspiravitian tongue. “I will have you one day, Ghost.”
The lights to the bathroom have been turned on since your speedy escape from it, however, the person who occupied it before has since left.
In the light of reality, you feel the final moments of your buildup to your climax.
“How can you be so sure?” You almost yell out the question as his hips smash into your thighs and your belly pools with molten pleasure.
“Because,” His smile is devious and his arm maneuvers into the space between your bodies to land a thumb to your clit. The contact is loving compared to the force in his hips. “My mark will miss me too much.”
Even as he says the words, you find the pulsing of his mark over your sternum shocking. Somehow, within the last few minutes of your feverish fucking, he has implanted a sliver of his umbra into your tattooed skin to awaken it. It throbs throughout your body until it reaches down to where his thumb beckons for it on your clit.
With a choked gasp, you cum on his dick sharply.
Your nails rake into his shoulders and back as your spine bows your body into him, mark crying with the need to come into contact with him. It begs to be returned to the casing he has shielded his dustri with, but he pushes back against it to keep it embedded in your skin. Your body trembles and your muscles clench on him like a heavenly prison, yet he does not falter until his dick throbs in your vice.
“Fuck.” He whines. “Fuck.”
Jimin wraps his arms around you and presses himself close, using his arms as a means of keeping you locked against him while he empties himself inside of you. You have the fleeting thought that it is dangerous to be having sex with him unprotected- dustrial soulmates in your world are infamous when it comes to unplanned pregnancies after the first meeting- yet you quickly decide that you’ll make a stop at the pharmacy by your home to pick up a Plan B just to be safe.
The aftermath of your hookup sinks in as the seconds in Jimin’s embrace pass by. His skin is damp as he presses his forehead to your equally sweaty neck so that he can take a moment to catch his breath. You tip your head back into the stall and slow your breathing as well, taking the moment to stare at the ceiling with instant regret.
The door to the bathroom opens again yet you do not have the strength to pull Jimin into your dimension anymore. As the man walks in, you do your best to create a shadowed wall between the stranger and the two of you.
Jimin’s hold on your waist freezes as he sees the situation unfold right before his very eyes.
“Jimin?” The man calls. “You in here, bro?”
Because of your umbra, he cannot see either of you, but the sound waves produced by the man’s voice cause it to shudder weakly.
When he receives no answer, he leaves and the door swings shut.
“Your shadows can stay in the light?” He asks the question with his mouth agape in shock.
“It took years.” You reply. “Now get off of me and take your mark.”
He loosens his grip and lets you stand again so that you can put your pants and tactical belts back on.
In your hurry, you don’t notice that Jimin fixes his clothes back into place slowly because of his distracted stare on you.
“Your lips are pretty.” He whispers.
Immediately, you pull your shadows back over your face, unaware that you somehow revealed more of it to him.
But, yet again, it’s too late. He’s seen your eyes and lips due to your weakness for him and now it will be easier for him to identify you. It will be easier for him to see you even with your face fully concealed. Because he knows more of your face, your power has become more useless against him.
“I’m going to leave now.” You grunt. “Take your mark back.”
Jimin freezes for a moment, standing awkwardly, silently. He’s hesitating.
He inhales slowly, watching you fumble with the clasp to your gun belt, before puffing out a quiet ‘no.’
If he doesn’t take his mark from your body, he’ll be able to track you. An Exspiravitian mark has a mind of its own and maneuvers on its own accord. You can’t do your work properly if you have a parasitewithin your flesh.
“What? Take this shit back, boyscout.”
“I don’t want to.” He deadpans. His eyes are pensive.
You scoff and grab him by the front of his shirt, yanking him to you with your teeth bared.
“You see the tattoo on my neck; you see that I am Cypher. You wouldn’t dareleave that shit on me.”
Ever so slowly, Jimin’s poker face melts into a grin so smug that you would’ve smacked him if you didn’t have control over your anger.
“Oh, but I would,Ghost.” He lets his hand come up to encircle your wrist as you clutch his shirt tighter.
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⤞summary: You bring your boyfriend home with you for summer break, and he tries to get in your pants every chance he gets.
⤞word count: 1.1k
⤞warnings: quickies | clothed sex | unprotected sex | riding | dirty talk | choking | exhibitionism | spitting/spit kink | cum eating | clit stimulation | ass slapping | oral sex (male receiving) | mentions teasing | pet names | light erotic humiliation | very light manhandling
⤞rating: 18+
⤞a/n: you can blame @aquagustd & @raplinesmoon . they’re responsible for this. i’m not even embarrassed anymore. when hoseok calls this whore comes running; no shame in my game. y’all been knew what he does to me.
“It’s gonna be quick, babe. I promise.”
It’s so tempting—he always makes it sound so simple, so easy.
You sigh. “Okay, Hoseok. But please let’s not get caught like last time.”
Your boyfriend grabs your hand and leads you into an empty room.
“We didn’t get caught. We almost got caught.”
“It was still too close,” you allow him to pull you on his lap, and you straddle him by placing your knees next to the outer sides of his thighs, “I just don’t want you to get in trouble with my dad.”
“I am trouble, baby girl. Now sit on my dick, please.”
You roll your eyes. “Fine. Take it out.”
“Nah, I’m lazy today. Do it for me.”
“Are you serious?”
“Am I smiling?”
He looks at you with a raised eyebrow, silently questioning whether or not you’re challenging him. You play nice because you know there isn’t much time, but make a mental note to be a brat later to pay him back for being so rude.
You fondle with the button and zipper of his jeans until his pants are undone and his boxers are exposed. Carefully, you remove his length from its confinements and firmly wrap your hand around it. You squeeze it gently; you can’t stop yourself from showing his girth some appreciation before you get started. However, you can’t afford to dwell over your boyfriend’s size for long; it’s only a matter of time before they come looking for you.
He pushes up your skirt and you pull your own panties aside before aligning with the oozing tip. You can feel the warm precum when it touches your clit. You coat him with the arousal gathered at your entrance, a result from his merciless teasing under the dinner table a few minutes ago.
“Hurry up.”
The second his dick probes at your opening, Hoseok slaps your ass and you take in a larger portion of his length than you intended to. You wince and whimper quietly as you wait for the sensitivity to ebb away, but Hoseok is too impatient. He uses his grip on your waist to move your hips slowly until you’re comfortable enough to find your own rhythm.
“I got it,” you mutter, placing your hands on his shoulders.
Hoseok sits back in the chair and watches the show with a smirk.
“You’re bossy today, baby girl.”
“Shut up.”
“You shut me up.” He slaps your ass again, creating more noise for your parents to hear. It earns him a glare but his lopsided smile never fades. “Better make me come before I get loud.”
“Hoseok, you better chill.”
Your panting makes your words come out shaky, but he should know you’re serious. Your parents are right down the hall.
“I think you wanna get caught…you aren’t even trying. Come on, ride this dick like I taught you, baby girl.”
“Fuck you, Hoseok.” You plant your feet on the hard surface and get in a squatting position.
He chuckles.
Annoyance fuels you to grab his throat, and you’re surprised to see the look of excitement on his face. Your own smirk forms as you apply a bit of pressure. “Like this, baby?”
“Yeah,fuck. Just like that.”
You bounce on his cock while looking into his dark brown eyes, watching them gloss over with lust. You pray that your parents don’t hear the lewd sounds that travel through the room each time you drop down on his lap.
Switching gears, you begin rolling your hips, slowing down and clenching intentionally to make him suffer. Serves him right for nearly making you come while you were having a meal with your parents.
“Open your mouth,” you request, hand still clutching him like a necklace. He obliges and you lean over him, spitting directly into his mouth without batting an eye. “Now swallow.”
Hoseok doesn’t hesitate, and after he consumes it he sticks out his tongue again to show proof. You reward him with a kiss and release all of your moans into his mouth. The familiar feeling starts rising in your gut signaling that your orgasm is approaching.
Your boyfriend guides your body, and encourages you to move in the rhythm he favors. You don’t protest because you’re too busy shoving your tongue down his throat. Honestly, you don’t even care as long as he’s buried deep inside of your heat, giving you the pleasure you crave.
“Gonna come?”
You nod your head. “Yeah, mmhm. I can’t hold it.”
He leaves kisses up your neck until he reaches your ear. “Me either. I wanted to come the second you started choking me.”
You have to cling onto him when his thumb touches your clit. He uses your slick to assist him in drawing swift circles over your bundle of nerves, bringing you closer and closer to your peak.
“Really?”
“Yeah,” he starts fucking you from beneath and you bury your face in his shirt to brace yourself for the impact. The coil tightens and eventually snaps, sending an orgasm rippling through your entire body, “you’re so fucking hot.”
You hear him whispering praises in your ear, but eventually his words start to come out as soft moans. Quickly, you climb off of him and wrap your lips around his pulsing cock. His cum squirts into your mouth within the first few seconds of you bobbing your head. You swallow it up greedily, not leaving a drop behind.
“Damn, babe. You really swallowed me up like that? Lemme see.”
You stick out your tongue and show him that nothing’s left. Your boyfriend curses in response then helps you to your feet.
Like a gentleman, he helps you fix your appearance before you step into the hallway. Not saying a word about the encounter in case your parents are standing there waiting for you.
“I love you,” he whispers.
He’s trailing behind you, still tucking his dick in his pants and trying to calm himself down before he has to face your father.
“You can’t sneak into my room tonight, Hoseok.”
“Hey,” he grabs your arm and spins around, pouting when he sees the frown on your face, “I’m serious.”
Your features soften at the sight. “I love you too, Hoseok.”
Satisfied, he wraps his arm around you and you both proceed down the hall in silence until he stops just before you round the corner. He pins your shoulders against the wall and stares at you with those mischievous orbs, the smirk from earlier returning like it never left.
“What about in the morning before they wake up? Can I slip into your room then?”
You roll your eyes and push him off of you.
“Fuck off,” you say as you start to walk away, “ but yeah, you can come.”
⤞title: mu$ic fairy ⤞pairing: rapper!yoongi x podcaster!female reader ⤞genre: angst | smut | pwp ⤞summary: When Yoongi’s career started to kick off, he never imagined he’d have a secret admirer this early in the game. Sure, random women throw themselves at him all the time, but this one has a different approach when it comes to getting his attention. ⤞teaserword count: 0.4k ⤞teaser warnings: swearing | sexual tension | sexual references | mature themes ⤞rating: 18+ ⤞a/n: So, I literally just finished the last scene for this and I wanted to share a teaser to celebrate because this is going to be one of my favs. This is unedited, straight from the doc so please don’t judge me lol. For one time only until I return, I’ll be opening a taglist for this fic. You may click here to join(18+), but please only join if you plan on reblogging and/or leaving feedback. Thanks! I hope y’all enjoy this one. Release date is Friday June 10th @ 8pm cst.
He shouldn’t crave the warmth beneath his palm while his hand grips your forearm, but he does. The skin to skin contact should not arouse him so easily, but there’s no denying the bulge forming in his pants. Despite all of this, Yoongi keeps his composure the best he can; you’re too cocky for him to just slip up and expose himself.
“Out of all the times to fuck with me…” he pauses when your glossed luscious lips part to blow the strawberry bubblegum you’ve been chewing. Your tongue darts out to pop and collect the medium-sized pink bubble, and he can feel his knees buckle when you suck it back in.
He’s usually not this fond of people and gum, but the way you handle it, the way you slowly rolled it over your tongue in preparation was a fucking sinful, and he can’t get enough of watching you do it.
“Why tonight?” he asks you.
You bat your thick lashes, probably knowing good and well what you’re doing to him. He knows you’re taunting him, silently asking for him to make a move, but he won’t. You’ll have to beg him for it.
“Because…I’m horny, and tired of waiting for your clueless ass to figure this out.”
Yoongi scoffs. “Bullshit.”
He looks down as your finger loops underneath one of his chains and tugs him closer, something he wouldn’t allow anyone to do, but somehow you already earned privileges. You don’t know how dangerous of a game you’re playing with him, but he silently prays you’ll get to find out. He’d give anything to bend over the hood of his car and—
“Actually, I think you owe me something,” you inform, placing your other hand on his shoulder once he slides his to your waist.
“And what might that be, love?”
Your smirk widens as you hypnotize him with your brown orbs. He can smell your perfume and flavored gum even better from this proximity, and your scent makes him feel like he’s in some sort of blissful haze—intoxicated by the smell of you. It’s no secret that he wants you bad; he just can’t let you know that. Not until you tell him why you’re doing all of this.
Pairing: Jungkook x Reader | [slight] Yoongi x Reader
Genre: fluff, angst, smut, roommates!au, college!au, fuckboi!jk, enemies to friends to lovers
Summary: Star basketball player Jeon Jungkook has a reputation as the ultimate fuckboi. He’s loved by everyone. Everyone. And you would have followed suit if he had not broken all your strict Roommate Rules™ within the first week of his stay. Jungkook, on the other hand, thinks you’re absolutely bizarre. But there’s a silver lining — Mr. Fuckboi here knows basketball captain Min Yoongi, your dreadfully clueless crush. He strikes up a deal with you: he’ll teach you the ways of flirting if you lessen your load of rules (so Jungkook can continue perusing his way through the ladies on campus). Yet the longer Jungkook spends with you, the more he realizes that maybe he doesn’t want to be the campus fuckboi anymore. The problem is, how does he prove that to you?
Rating: 18+ sexual content.
Warnings: protected sex, oral (f. receiving), handjob through clothes??, cumming in pants :D, slow burn, a lot of making out, titty sucking, cursing, alcohol consumption from parties, drug (weed) consumption (but not main pairing), marking with nails (not from y/n tho omg), jk sleeps around, and he’s a basketball player oof, honestly jk and y/n are just hella confused
Word Count: 20.6k
a/n ✑ it’s here, part uno! thank you so much for your patience!! i hope you enjoy this fic that was originally supposed to be 15k max… i appreciate all the support/motivation mwah mwah <3 the warnings for part two are included here as well (so if they dont show,,, it’s cuz it’s in the next one)
he’s the only smile in a crowd of frowns, the only hand that reaches out when you’re drowning, the taut string that will never snap, still, you take him for granted. something you’re willing to change.
warnings/tags—THIS DRABBLE INCLUDES HEAVY TOPICS SUCH AS ALLUSIONS TO MILD SUBSTANCE ABUSE & CHILD NEGLECT - not for sensitive readers. oc’s thoughts are all over the place,single parent!reader, best friend!yoongi, mentions of financial difficulty,a traumatic incident concering junho, poor healthcare, strong language, talk about hie jungkook (yes, this is a warning), a lot of tears,overthinking, soft, understanding, sweet, patient yoongi + one vv cute baby
note: me trying to write platonic yoongi x reader this takes place two months after yoongi’s wedding—rewind. this drabble covers the ‘fountain’ incident.
“Last one, last one. And…there we go! All done. Nice and clean, hm? Wait here for me.”
Yoongi leaves Junho in his makeshift crib, setting down the tiny nail clipper on the coffee table before passing you an uneasy look. You watch him from your seat in the lounge, the throb in your head painful and incessant. Junho leans on the edge of the couch, banging his chubby fist on your thighs, then bringing it up to his mouth to bite on his chubby knuckles.
When your eyes meet – his big, glistening, clueless eyes – you can only imagine that the guilt flooding every corner of your heart must show on your face. Bottom lip quivering when he reaches for your clenched fist, babblinganddrooling.
That’s exactly what he is – clueless. Unaware of what a terrible mother you are.
You don’t deserve him.
Yoongi walks straight into your thoughts, setting down the plastic bowl filled with a pale orange puree.
He hooks his hands under Junho’s arms, lifting him back onto his lap before securing the bib around his neck, ensuring that the Velcro at the back is snug.
“Time for dinner,” he sing-songs, arm fitted around Junho’s belly tenderly as he mimics the sound of an aeroplane, chuckling when Junho accepts the spoonful eagerly.
You don’t deserve him, either.
With an anguished sigh, you divert your gaze to your hands, unable to stop your knee from bobbing as you try to take three calming breaths. Another three. And another. But you fail to escape the onslaught on hateful thoughts. Hate for yourself, your situation, your past, present and equally lamentable future and the man that left you to deal with it all by yourself.
He left you.
You can say that with confidence. Jungkook left you alone. All alone, your desolate, deserted, barren heart. He ensured that it remains that way.
“Open up! Smiley! One more! Good boy.” Yoongi kisses the side of Junho’s head, balancing the baby on his knee as he waddles to the kitchen to rinse his hands and mouth. His laugh echoing in the small space of your crummy apartment.
Defeatedly, you look away, fingers curled around your knees before your gaze falls on your reflection in the silver vase you keep on the coffee table. A poor attempt at adding some life into your home. Hoseok’s beige beanie sits atop your head. It looks different on you. He always looked handsome, no matter what he wore and you?
You yank it off your head, letting it fall from your hand. Leaning forward to prop your elbows on your knees, fingers pressing into your eyelids, trying to ease the ceaseless burn in your head.
ButHoseok. Hoseok is gone too. He left.
Even if he said you’re not the reason why – you know you are. And today only proved exactly why he left.
But that’s just you. Never enough to make them stay.
A pendulum, from the past to the present, only getting worse. Louder, more painful and difficult to bear. You hold your hands to your ears, rubbing it away but it only worsens.
Like everything else in your life.
“The nurse said we should talk to him more,” Yoongi sighs, huffing down on the couch with Junho between his legs, now holding the new toy you had picked out today, caught between little teeth. His smile falls as he turns to you, stiffening visibly against the cushions.
Furiously, you wipe away your tears, cheek pressed to your shoulder as you face the other direction but it’s too late, because he already saw.
“So, when are you guys moving out?” You sniffle, shifting the attention away from you which is a dumb idea since you know that you’re still going to discuss what happened earlier today. No matter how many times you try to change the subject.
“Not anytime soon,” he replies curtly, stare burning into the side of your face, “Yuri’s staying at her sister’s place tonight.”
The tiny bit of relief you feel is not enough to wash your burgeoning guilt away. They’ve only been married for two months, and so much has happened since then. Yoongi is forced to deal with your bullshit. And Yuri doesn’t know half the things that had happened. You wish you could keep it that way, but she already witnessed the worst of it all.
The fight.
A ball forms in your throat, stuck there. Stubborn and unmoving while you’re forcing the images away. Begging yourself not to revisit that day.
“Are you going to tell me what happened?”
You nod, slotting your fingers together as you place it over your eyes. The light suddenly too bright, Junho’s little shouts too loud. One strangled exhale and you’re back at the mall, grocery bags in hand as you wait for Yoongi in the parking lot, sat beside the water fountain.
Tears brim your eyes.
“I don’t know…I was just,” you sob, chewing on your lower lip as you recount the upsetting events from only a few hours ago. Yoongi’s eyes are on you, no sympathy, but concern. “It happened so fast, one second he was crawling out of his carrier and the next he was…he was in the water.”
He’s clutching Junho to his chest, a comforting hand running down the side of his head.
“And then?”
“And then I—“ You choke, a pang of insurmountable guilt paralysing you enough to have the words fade off your tongue.
“I just want to know,” he mumbles, struggling with his own words, “why didn’t you pull him out when you saw him in the water? Do you know what could’ve happened? He could’ve–”
Blank. It’s all blank. And you told him this earlier. Why won’t he believe you?
“You can’t be trusted around your own child?” It’s a question, but you know that it’s also an accusation. He’s refusing to believe it, but he asks you again. And your guilt won’t allow you to become defensive like you did right after it happened. Because you want to know whyyourself. Why didn’t you jump into action as soon as Junho fell? Why didn’t you save your baby? Why did you call for Yoongi instead of reaching out to pull him up yourself?
Was it shock?
Your mind is saying you’re making excuses for yourself. You don’t want to believe that you’re a useless mother.
Why didn’t you save your baby?
The stack of brochures the clinic had given you as their ‘treatment’ instead of proper healthcare facilities sits above the TV stand. As if that could help you cope with whatever it is you’re dealing with. But that’s just your life, the only treatment you could afford for your baby.
Yoongi exhales a shuddering breath, one that you haven’t head before, his chin propped on Junho’s head.
“The nurse said it’s normal for some mothers to go into a state of shock when something traumatic happens to their child,” he begins, confirming your suspicions as if that could prevent you from thinking otherwise, “but they had no idea that…that you’re using.”
You blink. The mention of it alone enough to have your nails dig into the skin of your knee.
“And I’m not saying that you didn’t…that you were able to help him. Because,” he shakes his head, rubbing the crease between his brows, “Hoseok left me to deal with the shit he started.”
As if you’re a stubborn child, refusing to sleep with the lamp off. As if you’d need guidance and coaching. Because you’ve developed a bad habit. And that’s exactly what people like you need to break it. Again, your guilt refuses to accept the fact that Yoongi has been trying to help you for weeks now, but it’s also your guilt that’s telling you not to put him through any more trouble and figure shit out yourself.
“Come on, ___. Look at him,” he barks, gesturing to Junho who’s resting against his chest, “just look at him. I know that I have to watch what I say to you. But if I can’t help you then let him help you!”
You’re blinking away tears, biting into your cheek hard. The hollowness of your heartbeat ringing in your ears as you watch your son topple onto the couch, staring up at you with puffed up cheeks.
“Mummmmmmm—ah!”
The corners of your mouth cracks, lifting into a teary smile before you bend over to kiss every inch of his face, sobbing into his neck.
“Not for me, not for yourself but for him!”
Yoongi’s poignant words set off a wave of different emotions, rumbling through you in soft sobs because there’s no other way for you deal with it. No other way you know how. Squishing Junho’s cheeks between your hands, thighs under your chest as you cry and cry and cry. And Yoongi lets you, tears of his own lining his bottom lashes.
“I didn’t want to say this,” he chuckles once your sobs die down, helping you up to a seated position, “Jungkook was my best friend. But after everything he said that day…everything he did. Fuck him.”
A little shocked to hear him talk about Jungkook like this, you laugh softly, pulling Junho into your lap as he goes on with his rant, even if what he’s saying is extremely difficult for you to hear.
“Sorry—” he covers Junho’s ears “—I know you were waiting for him, so was I. But he came back, gave you an ultimatum and LEFT. He fucking left you this time. He chose the life he claimed to hate so much over you and the child that’s not only your responsibility but his! He’s not worth it.”
Yoongi’s voice is nasally but firm, index finger poking into the armrest once he manages to calm himself.
“I know…I know it must’ve been a shock. To see you with a child, but he would’ve known if he had at least called ONCE during that time. Just once.”
You never stopped to think that Yoongi must’ve been hurting as much as you, wondering where Jungkook had gone. No communication. Nothing. And he’s right, he could’ve tried to make contact anytime during that year, but he didn’t. Missing out on everything.
But he doesn’t care. He made it very clear at Yoongi’s wedding.
“And he has the cheek to say that Junho is not his child! Look at his face! Look,” Yoongi exasperates, frown replaced with a grin when he pinches Junho’s cheek and he giggles, “this is Jungkook. This is baby Jungkook.”
Even if you know he’s just trying to lighten the mood, the sob that puffs out of your lips is loud and broken, wiping Yoongi’s smile off his face. You can’t help it. Junho looks exactly like his father and it’s all just heart-breaking, forced to accept that Jungkook wants nothing to do with you and your son. But what’s even more terrible is that he asked for you. And what happened to Junho was none of his business.
If you lose Junho, you lose your life.
With that thought in mind you pick Junho up and grab his tiny arms, wrapping them around your neck and kissing the side of his face.
He’s your baby, he should be enough for you. Your heart was never desertedorbarren ever since he entered your life. How blind can you be? How ungrateful and insensitive can you be not to realise that your days filled with drool and baby babbles was all the love you ever needed? His slobbery kisses and warm cuddles.
And his big, doe eyes.
Your bleary eyes fall open, finding Yoongi watching you intently before his arms fall to his sides, beckoning you closer with a defeated sigh.
“Come here.”
Tentatively, you lean into his chest, one of his arms circling your figure while the other fits around Junho. This is rare, something that you appreciate because it’s safe, it’s always been safe with Yoongi. He’s busy smiling at Junho who tugs at the locket around your neck.
“Don’t worry, I’ll always be around,” he snorts, patting your shoulder, “are you gonna listen to me from now on? I know it’s going to be hard, but Yuri and I will be there to support you for as long as you need us to.”
You nod against his shoulder, still following the pendulum but willing to forget. Because there’s one thing you promised yourself – you’d be the mother you always wanted as a child.
The locket comes loose around your neck, caught between Junho’s fingers before you pull it from his grip, examining the damage tearfully. But you can’t bring yourself to be angry, and even if the clasp can be fixed within a second, you don’t try to.
Instead, you tuck it away into your jewelry box.
and that’s how hell is empty began … i’m yoongi biased can you tell please send in feedback, I would love to hear what you think !!
♢genre:(18+) friends to lovers, ex-fwb, mutual pining, massage au | fluff, sprinkle of angst, smut
♢summary: surprise! you’re gifted a free massage at the nearby massage parlor called “Blissful Hands.” you’ve heard about the parlour about once or twice, never thought about stepping foot inside to take advantage of their services. thinking you could use the massage to relax, rid yourself of any stress and built up tension, you walk into the parlor excited for your first massage opportunity. however, when you realize your masseur is no other than Min Yoongi himself, all excitement flies out the window. never did you think you’d reunite with your biggest crush in college, the one that got away. they say sticks and stones may break your bones but words will never hurt you— but in this case, you find out that words have actually ruined a lot for you and Yoongi. and stones.. well, they’ll do a lot to ease that instead.
♢pairing:reader x masseur!myg
♢words:18.4k
♢warnings: i did as much research as possible on hot stone massages pls forgive me, mature language/cussing, sexually implied content, sprinkle of angst??, miscommunication, rumors and assumptions, unspoken feelings, awkward reunion lol yoongi isnt really having it at first, oc shoulda tried harder tho oof, he does have a soft spot for oc, drinking/intoxication, flashback scenes, use of pet names like baby and princess, cuddles, after care, making out, unprotected sex, missionary, multiple orgasms, use of oil and hot stones in foreplay, fingering, clit play, slight marking, sprinkle of spit play, breast play, smut on the massage table ://, pulling out, grinding, edited but unedited lolol sorry if i missed anything!
♢note: thank you so, so much to @ressjeon for thinking of me and for inviting me to be a part of this collab! i had tons of fun writing this <33 also, big shoutout again to @ilikemesometaetaes & @jimilter for this beautiful ass banner! please check out the other works part of this collab, they’re all amazing and won’t disappoint!
—i also wanted to let you all know i’ll be continuing my break and i won’t be as active on here for awhile. i need a moment to rest since i’ve been feeling pretty down and unmotivated lately. just gotta take a moment to shake off this funk. but, i’ll be writing behind the scenes from time to time in between pulling my personal stuff together.
It’s that time of the year again where your loved ones sweetly greet you, your coworkers shove plans and alcohol in your face because you aren’t getting any younger— Immediate family reminding you where you need to be at this point in your life.
Married, with kids, doing some other job that brings in more money.
You know what it is.
No harm, they say. Just a reminder. It’s your birthday for fucks sake, and they wanna give you a reminder?
Anywho, you park your car after a long day of work, just now hanging up the phone after your mom and dad had called to greet you [aka bringing up said reminder mentioned above] in the most loving way they can. You know they come from a good place, and you know that they support you either way, so you can’t help but give off a tiny sigh and respond with a cute little ’yes, I know but thank you, I love you’ in the end. You grabbed your purse and headed up the steps to your apartment, grabbing the mail on the way up without giving it another look as you set it near your keys at the entrance way. You immediately slip out of your heels first, then make your way into the kitchen to wash your tupperware from lunch.
It’ll be a quiet birthday, and that’s okay with you.
That’s how you’ve always preferred it, anyway. Quiet, lowkey, no surprises—
“Surprise, bitch!” You pick up the call from your bestfriend, slightly bringing the phone away from your ear when you hear her scream on the other end. “Happy birthday to the love of my life and the only person I can stand! Did you open your mail yet? What are you up to today? Who is getting some of that tonight—”
“Hold on just a minute, Rissa.” You nervously chuckle. “Thank you, and I love you, but one question at a time, please?” You tuck the phone against your ear with your shoulder as you put your dishes away.
“I’m sorry.” She giggles. “You know I love you. I’m just sad I can’t be there with you since they have me on this work trip for the month.”
“It’s okay.” You crack a tiny smile. “How is it?”
“It’s fine, same old.” She sighs. “But this isn’t about me, birthday girl. What are your plans?”
“You already know me.” You laugh. “Keep it lowkey. Order some good, comforting takeout and pair it with red wine.” You plop on the couch and put her on speaker so you can start your next 15 or so minutes just looking for food that you’ll end up doordashing over.
“Mkay, really?”
“I don’t know why you’re so surprised.”
“Guess you didn’t open your mail.”
“The hell is that supposed to mean?” You look towards your entrance way at the stack of envelopes.
“Can you just go and open your mail? I made sure that would get sent with priority.” She laughs as you chuckle and shake your head, meandering over to the envelopes you wanted to ignore for the evening at the very least. Well, for the most part, the majority of the envelopes get flipped through and tossed to the back, especially if you already knew none of them necessarily had an urgent deadline.
Alas, you come to Rissa’s envelope. Soft pink in color with ’Y/N Y/L/N’ in big, bold, black Sharpie on the front— a little drawn heart attached to the end of it.
You take your finger and gently rip the envelope open, revealing a card with a piece of paper in it. You read the sweet message written by your bestfriend before pulling out the paper to read what it consists of:
One free 60 min. massage at Blissful Hands - Applies to all massage types. Redeem Now!
No expiration date.
“A free massage?” You think out loud and Rissa laughs.
“Girl, you need to relax, okay? You’re always working so damn hard, you never give yourself a break. I know I had mentioned the parlor before, but I just haven’t had the time to take you. I want you to go and treat yourself as my birthday present.” She pauses briefly before going on again. “And don’t give me that ’with what time’ bullshit cause I’m gonna be on your ass until you step foot in that establishment. Trust me. I’ll be annoying, you don’t want that.” You laugh.
“Thank you, Rissa. I love it, seriously. Maybe I could use a day to just do this and nothing else.” You flip the coupon in your hand.
“Maybe, yeah.” She says sarcastically. “If you aren’t gonna use that unlimited PTO benefit, then let me at it.”
“You’re right.” You shake your head. “Fine, I’ll go.”
“Like, tomorrow.”
“No, not tomorrow.”
“Before next week, though.”
“Yes, damn.” You laugh a little louder. “Jeez, you weren’t kidding when you said you’d be on my ass.”
“No, I wasn’t. Besides, I spent the money so that you could have this day be all about self-care.”
“Thank you.” You repeat. “I love you. And I miss you dearly.”
“I miss you, too. I’ll be home soon and I’ll make sure my first stop is your place.”
“Sounds like a plan.” You say softly, genuinely missing the company of your bestfriend. “I just hope you’re enjoying yourself down there in between work.”
“Oh girl, you know I am. Don’t you even worry.” She chuckles. “Seriously though, take that coupon into the parlor this week, you hear me?”
“I will.”
“Mmkay. I’ll let you get back to your lowkey birthday celebration. Love you to bits and pieces.” She says in a sing-song tone. “By the way, there’s more gifts coming your way, they’re just delayed.”
“What!?”
“Byeeeee!” She laughs and abruptly ends the call. You look at the phone in disbelief before slowly setting it down onto your coffee table. You pick up the coupon and look at it again, suddenly getting the urge to look through your work calendar to see which day you could call off.
No meetings, no agenda, nothing.
Just you, yourself and this massage parlor.
“Why not?” You mutter to yourself as you place the coupon back down and start looking through the rest of the week on your calendar.
You actually don’t get the chance to go until closer to the end of the week— a Thursday that most people decide that they want to cancel group meetings or work remotely to focus on other urgent projects. You don’t complain though, hell, you quickly put in your time off and don’t look back.
That Thursday comes just as quickly as you submitted the time off request, the sun beaming straight into your room and warming your sheets through the sheer blinds. You stretch a bit, arms poking out from underneath the covers as you yawn and try to completely wake yourself up. You figured starting your day at the massage parlor could be good, maybe it’ll just get you started on the right foot, maybe it’ll get you to do other spontaneous, productive things that you should’ve done on your actual birthday. Who knows? You were just excited to have the day to yourself with no other obligations and people, emails, deadlines— whatever fucking else comes with corporate— to worry about. You get yourself washed up and ready for the day, throwing on a simple, all black biker shorts and sports bra set. You grab a hoodie in case the day is actually colder than expected, throw on some socks, tie up your sneakers and head out the door.
The establishment isn’t too far, and it’s nice that it’s pretty convenient. You and Rissa both had incredibly busy schedules, it was almost impossible to think about a massage during a normal week at work. If it wasn’t for your birthday and for her gift, you aren’t entirely sure you’d ever step foot here to take advantage of their services [knowing damn well you could use it, too]. The added bonus now is the convenience and how close it is to other establishments you frequent.
Maybe you might be back after a taste.
When you walk in, it’s peaceful, serene, as you expected; soft music played in the background. A lady stood near the front desk, walking the receptionist through something— you weren’t entirely sure. They finally turned their attention towards you, the lady standing coming towards you with a smile on her face.
“Hey, welcome in to Blissful Hands!” She smiles. “I’m Yannie.”
“Y/N.” You give her a small, toothless smile as you tug on the strap of your bag. “I, um—” You flash her the coupon after pulling it out from your jacket pocket. “I have this coupon I wanted to redeem.”
“Oh, fantastic! You came at a perfect time, we have lots of availability right now.” She grabs some paperwork from behind the desk and walks back over to you as you sit on the clean sofa. “I’ll go through these in a bit. But, I wanted to ask. Did you already have a particular type of massage in mind? If not, I can grab a pamphlet and we can go through any questions you might have in regards to our services.”
“Hm. Do you guys offer hot stone massages?” Is the first that pops into your mind. It had always been something you wanted to try, especially seeing the ads and the promos at the hotels during work trips and conferences. Plus, you’ve heard about its benefits through word of mouth. If they were able to offer that here, why not get yourself a free hot stone massage? It might turn out to be exactly what you need.
“We sure do.” She chuckles and sits next to you. “Why hot stone, if I may ask?”
“Well, besides the usual response of lowering stress, I just feel like my body is pretty.. tense? Lots of muscle tension, soreness, fatigue. I run a lot, try to get some boxing and pole dancing in. No matter how many times I go, I still feel like it’s my first time.” You chuckle nervously, afraid you’ve spilled way too much information than necessary. She didn’t even ask. “Sorry, just felt like I needed to add that in there for some reason.”
“No, that helps a lot. Thank you.” She laughs. “I think that would be a great option for you. Our masseur is one of the most top-rated in the city.” You nod, impressed. Were they now? “Here.” She hands you a pen. “I just need you to fill out these medical intake forms—” She pushes the form closer to you. “And then sign these liability forms.” She follows up with the last forms.
“Sounds good.”
“Once you’re done, I’ll take you to a room to get situated before your masseur comes in.” You nod once more, giving her eye contact before continuing your task of filling out the paperwork appropriately. Yannie heads back to support the front desk momentarily until she sees you walking towards her with the completed paperwork. She thanks you, takes the papers and hands it over to the front desk before nodding towards the back. “Follow me, I’ll bring you to a room.” You quietly follow behind, the back area of the establishment being much bigger than you expected. You pass two rather handsome and attractive males on the way to your room, both of them giving you a bright, white smile before continuing on their way. You make a mental note that maybe, this wouldn’t be so bad after all.
A massage and eye candy? Shit, count me the fuck in.
You passed a line of rooms before Yannie turns towards an empty one near the end of the hallway. She lets out a breath for a moment before stepping aside to let you in, showing you to the side of the room where you could place your things.
“Hm, let me go grab your masseur so that you can be on your way, alright? You can place your things here if you’d like, but once he comes in, he’ll have you undress down to your underwear and into a robe before getting you on the table.” She gives you a smile before walking out and shutting your door. As you stand around awkwardly, you hear her outside asking for your particular masseur, which isn’t the problem, but it’s the name that catches you off guard—
“Where’s Yoongi?” You hear her ask. Yoongi, as in Min Yoongi? You hoped that there was another Yoongi on this planet just to save you from making this session 10x more awkward and weird, but something inside you told you that no, he was the only Yoongi you knew of and that’s exactly who this was.
Fuck.
“You have a client, she’s in there already.” You hear her down the hall, followed by a low ’alright.’ Suddenly, the door swings open again and it’s Yannie along with theMin Yoongi himself. You’re caught off guard that you don’t even speak. You simply look at him, eyes full of curiosity, full of question, as he with you. But, he’s quick to furrow his brows before slowly walking inside, Yannie catching onto the sudden tension in the air.
“Um, this is Yoongi, your masseur.” She clears her throat.
“Sure is.” You say, still keeping your eyes on him.
“Have you two met before?”
“Yup.” Yoongi says before turning to her with a small smile. “I got it from here boss, thanks.” Yannie gives you one last smile before shutting the door and walking down the hallway to continue her previous tasks.
“Well, if you look who it is—” You say sarcastically, placing your things down onto the side. “I didn’t know you worked here.” You’re saying things in a certain tone to make sure Yoongi doesn’t see how much you’re actually dreading this right now. Because you are, god, you fucking are, and you almost wish you didn’t step foot into this establishment and ask for a hot stone massage.
Could’ve been anything else. You should have done your research before.
“Hm, there’s alot of things you don’t know about me anymore, Y/N.” He says coldly. “Didn’t think I’d ever see you here.” He starts to look at the papers and gather his things together, his back turned against you.
“Yeah, well. Rissa gave me a birthday coupon.” He nods silently. “H-how’ve you been?” You ask him, awkwardly rubbing at your arm.
“Good as can be.” He says flatly before turning to look at you, no emotion to match his blank expression. You look at the way he’s changed— his orange, long hair that suited him well, body built perfectly, jaw line shaped with perfection. You’re pulled out of your thoughts when he turns once more, pointing towards the back of the room. “Gonna need you to undress and get into the robe. This time, might wanna keep your panties on.” He gives you a look, and you aren’t sure whether or not he’s throwing shade at you for whatever problems you had caused him— you weren’t sure. Maybe that’s where you went wrong because at one point, you and Yoongi had been close. You and Yoongi had shared everything, you and Yoongi had been everything to each other. He was one of your closest friends, maybe at some points a little too close than friends normally would be, but that was your relationship with him and you both had been on the same page about it. He was always good to you, always taking care of you, always knowing what was best for you over him—
Then, it just..stopped.
And you clearly never understood where you went wrong. At least, to your knowledge, it wasn’t clear where you went wrong.
“Mmkay.” Is all you say, heading behind the divider towards the back end of his room to change into the fresh, clean robe hanging on the other side of it. You slip out of your clothes, leaving your panties on as Yoongi ever so respectfully requested, and get the robe on. You tighten the strap, feeling shy around him even though Yoongi has definitely you full blown naked before.
He’stouchedyou.
He’skissedyou.
He’shandledyou.
It’s been years, though.
“Get on the table face down, please. I’ll start off with your back.” He turns to you, meeting your eyes but nothing more. He’s always been this way, he’s always been hard to crack. You were just lucky you were able to at some point.
You do as you’re told, slipping the robe off of you and tossing it aside when Yoongi turns around to give you some privacy. You lay face down onto the table, suddenly feeling Yoongi place a clean linen cloth to cover your sacrum and below. He looks at you for a minute because even though it’s been awhile, he remembers everything about you, your body. He remembers the tiny mole right below your left shoulder blade, remembers the scar on your knee. He remembers where your spots used to be, where you liked to be touched, kissed.
He lets out a small huff before shaking his head at the thoughts that start to occupy his mind. There’s soft music playing in the background to help ease the energy in the room, to help relax you and soothe you. And it does. Everything feels peaceful for a moment that you almost forget you’re about to get a massage by Yoongi himself until—
“You ready? I’m gonna start with your back. Let me know if the stones get too hot for you.” He says, dimming the lights just a bit, lighting some candles and incense.
“Mhm.” You mumble. You hear Yoongi digging the stones out of the water bath, placing them gently on a towel in front of him before grabbing the oil and lathering his hands.
“I’m gonna start, alright? Gonna oil you up first.” He says, his large, strong hands manually giving your back a good massage with the oil to introduce his touch, get your tissues warmed up. You immediately feel relaxed under his touch, all tension seemingly disappearing into thin air. He feelsyou ease up underneath him, hands with the magic touch you could almost call him Midas.
/ FLASHBACK
“Fuck.” You giggle into Rissa’s shoulder, red cup empty after the second, third, sixth [who fucking knows at this point] drink of the night.
“So drunk.” She giggles along with you, sipping on water.
“God, I’m getting over this party though.” You turn to look at your surroundings. “Look, literally no one is dancing anymore. Everyone is just standing around talking or—” You snort when you see one of your friends slumped on the couch. “Slumped.”
“It’s almost that time of the night, miss. We’re crossing into 1AM.”
“Ugh, I need to take my drunk ass home.”
“No, you need Yoongi to take your drunk ass home.” She lifts your chin to get you to look at her but you pout.
“You’re not going home, huh?” You ask her, already knowing she was going to spend the night at her boyfriend’s apartment.
“Mm, you know this.” She laughs. “Your girl needs dick. Bad.”
“Whatever.”
“Saying it like you don’t have the same fucking thought. Shame.” She gives you a look.
“Where is heeeeee?” You elongate the ’he,’ lip forming into another pout as you drunkily close your eyes.
“Your man’s over there.” She nods towards the living room, Yoongi standing along the wall with a few of his friends.
“He’s not my man.”
“Mm.” She looks at you up and down. “Go over there before I have more shit to say.” You laugh and start making your way over to Yoongi, immediately wrapping your hand around his wrist, chin resting against his bicep.
“You okay?” Yoongi chuckles at how adorable you look.
“Drunk. Just.. drunk.”
“I see that.” He moves his arm to drape it over your shoulders and pull you close. “Wanna get out of here?”
“Fuck, yeah. Please.”
“Where to?”
“Home.” You look at him and he nods. The both of you bid your farewell’s to his friends before tossing your empty cups and heading out. Yoongi had one drink earlier in the night, but he had been sipping on soda onwards throughout the evening simply because he knew you needed him to take you home. In fact, he would rather let you have the time of your life and watch you have your fun instead of him. He loved seeing that side of you, loved seeing you full of life, full of fun.
It’s what attracted him to you the most.
“You okay, princess?”
“Yeah, just wanna get the fuck out of these shoes.” He laughs.
“Okay, almost there.” He says, kissing your temple. When you finally head down the street to the car, Yoongi gets you situated in the seat before heading to the driver’s side and getting himself situated. “You’re not gonna yack, are you?” He laughs when he starts driving off towards your apartment.
“No, I’m fine. God.” You roll your eyes and lean your head back against the head rest.
“I’m just playing, baby.” He says, large hand roaming to your thigh and giving it a good squeeze. You let out a small whimper at his touch, Yoongi smirking to himself when he knows exactly what that means. “Gonna get you some water and make sure you sleep this shit off, I don’t wanna hear you complain tomorrow.”
“When do I ever complain?”
“All the fucking time, dude.” He laughs. “Damn. You’re lucky I like you.” He quickly caresses your chin. The rest of the ride is quiet, nothing but the soft music playing in the background in his car, the sounds of cars passing by along with the train running through the tracks nearby your apartment building. He parks in a guest spot that’s quite far, offering to carry you up to your apartment if you feel too tired. You let him know you’re alright though, lacing your fingers with his as you make your way to your door. He grabs your keys, unlocks the door and watches as you stumble in and hurriedly get out of your shoes— tossing them off to the side messily.
“Thank God, ugh.” You groan, falling face down onto your comfortable, comfortable bed. You hear Yoong in your kitchen, grabbing you a glass of water and going through your medicine cabinet before walking in to your room and shutting the door behind him.
“Here. Drink some water, please.”
“And if I don’t?” You tease, still face down against your pillow.
“I’ll leave.”
“That was unfair.” You say, slowly sitting up to drink some of the water. His hand caresses your back as you drink, watching to make sure you get a good amount of water in you before you set the glass back down. Once you do, you immediately get to removing your clothes, tossing them aside and crawling under your sheets in just your bra and panties.
“You wanna sleep? You don’t wanna stay up for a bit?” He says, grabbing the pair of basketball shorts he left behind in your closet so he can change into something comfier.
“And do what?”
“You’re gonna have a headache in the morning, Y/N.”
“It’s fine, I’ll deal with it when the morning comes.” You whine. “Can you just come here and cuddle me like you typically do?” He chuckles.
“Yeah, yeah.” He says, finally crawling in and throwing his arm around your waist even as you awkwardly lay on your stomach with a leg bent upwards. He begins to quietly massage your sides and down your back, fingers gently running a line down your spine. He listens to you let out a breath, body easing up under his touch like it always does. “Feels good?” He says nearing a whisper, close to your ear.
“Mhm.” You let out breathily, eyes shut to feel more of his touch. You feel him unclasp your bra to work his hands deeper into your shoulders and either side of your spine. Yoongi always knew how to work his way with you, work his magic on you— so much that even this simple massage has you wanting more out of him. It’s like that though. Your relationship with Yoongi was just like that. You turn to face him and his hand continues to linger on your side, giving it a squeeze when he looks down at your face, nose, down to your lips.
“Need a massage here, too?” He smirks, playing with the strap of your bra.
“You’re an idiot.” You giggle as he pulls you closer and completely gets rid of your bra while planting small, soft kisses along the surface of your neck. “Wasn’t really planning on this, you know?”
“That’s funny cause that’s always the story, yet what do we always end up doing?” Your eyes flutter at the feeling of his lips against your skin. Your hands roam up to grip his hair just as he makes his way up to your jaw, cheek, kissing the tip of your nose before locking his lips with yours. You moan into the kiss as it deepens, your tongue instantly slipping into his. The only sounds that can be heard within your room are the cars passing by outside, mixed with the noises of wet kisses being exchanged.
You work your way to toss Yoongi’s shirt aside, just as he works his way to hook his finger onto your panties and slip it off. You tease at his clothed, hardened cock by palming him through his shorts and he responds by feeling how wet your pussy is. You let out a small gasp when you feel his hand start rubbing at your pussy, spreading your wetness across your pussy lips.
“Just fuck me, Yoongi.” You moan, already taking his cock from beneath his shorts before he can fully shred the piece of clothing.
“Yeah, I’m gonna take care of you, baby.” He says, wasting no time to climb ontop of you, taking his cock and sliding it up and down your slit a few times to tease you.
“Please.” You whine. “Need to feel you.” He smirks and bites onto his bottom lip just as he takes his tip and breaches your entrance.
“God, you already feel so fucking good.” He lets out. “So wet for me.” He watches his cock sink into you, deeper and deeper, until he bottoms out completely.
“Ohhhhhmygod—” You arch your back slightly at the feeling of being full. Yoongi works at a slow pace at first, trying to get the right rhythm going as he cocks your legs wide open with his hands.
“Princess. Look at you. Creaming the fuck out of my cock.” He says, looking down as he teasingly slips in and out of you. He begins to pick up his pace, rolling his hips into you as a hand grips onto your headboard to keep him steady, the other hand kept tightly on your hip. He starts to pound into you relentlessly, loving how delicious your walls feel wrapped around him tightly.
Italways, always, always, keeps him wanting more of you.
“Yes, yes, yes— just like that—hmmmfuck!” You moan a bunch of jibberish together, nails digging crescents onto his arm. “Feels so fucking good.” You continue to whine, whimper, begging him to keep going for you. He lowers his body so that he could run his hands up your hair, whispering praises in your ear as he strokes in and out at a steady speed.
Making you feel him, all of him, completely.
He always tells you how beautiful you are to him, how you’re his baby, how there’s no one who could make him feel the way you do.
How no one could ever come close to you.
And that’s the one thing that always has you hurdling over the edge, reaching your orgasm much faster than expected. Because not only does he fuck you so, so good— but he praises you, knows just the right fucking words to say, knows just how to touch you in the right places.
You let out a loud moan, yelling his name as your eyes roll to the back of your head when your orgasm takes full control. His hand slides down to grip your neck, fucking you senselessly as he tries to reach his own high watching you cum all over his dick. And he does. It takes a few more thrusts, but before you know it, his lips are grazing yours, both of you letting out silent moans when he releases inside of you, painting your walls full of white ribbons.
He comes down from his high as he softens inside of you, lips pecking feathery kisses on yours before he finally pulls out and rolls over next to you. He grabs a napkin from your nightstand and gently wipes you clean before taking care of himself and throwing his arm back around you.
“You okay?” He brushes the hair out of your face before you roll onto your side.
“Definitely more sober now.” You say, making him chuckle as he holds you close and kisses your shoulder.
“Good. At least I helped prevent the morning headache.”
“Shut up.” You chuckle.
“Anything for you.” He continues to joke.
/ END FLASHBACK
After Yoongi gives your back a good introductory massage, he then turns to get the stones and holds them tightly in his palms. You feel the back of his hands work their way down on either side of your spine, all the way down to your sacrum, before coming back up. He repeats this process a few times before flipping his palms over and rolling the stones down the same path. He adds the right pressure against the surface of your skin, the heat just enough to penetrate and hit deeper into your tissue.
Yoongi doesn’t even know how to feel right now with you being underneath him for a completely different reason today. And it’s been years— years since you’ve last spoken, last talked.
He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t hurt all over again when he saw you.
You still looked beautiful as ever, still rocking that fine ass body with curves in all the right places. Yeah, he definitelywasn’t hurt when you two ended up the way you did. He wish it never ended up that way. He wanted much, much more with you. You just never seemed to feel the same. But he couldn’t dwell on it. Figured he’d just accept it and move on, even if that meant without you by his side. That was probably the hardest part all along. To be with you almost 24/7, to suddenly being without you at all. He had to do it though, for his own sake.
Yeah, he’d defnitely be lying if he said he wasn’t hurt all over again when he saw you.
“Feels alright?” He dips lowly near your ear as he holds stones sideways and digs them deep into your shoulders, down your back, sacrum; always avoiding the spine directly.
“Mmm.” Is all he hears. He continues to work all through your back and up to your neck before placing the stones down to rest along your spine. He places two tiny stones amongst your shoulders, guiding you to move your hand backwards one at a time, just so he can give you a good, deep, proper massage in between the scapula. Afterwards, he grabs new stones and moves down to your left leg. He uncovers it, gently massaging up and down your thigh, calf, in a circular motion with the stones, using them as an extension of his hands. He does this for awhile until he feels like he’s done enough, the heat slowly moving away from the stones in his palms. So, he sticks a stone on the back of your knee where the bend is, and takes the other stone down to your foot for a soft massage— flipping the stone as needed to distribute the heat along your foot properly. Once he’s finished with his final touches, he places the stone in the middle of your foot, covers the entire leg with the linen cloth and repeats the same process on your right leg.
You’re sinking in and out of sleep while Yoongi massages you, all of a sudden forgetting the heated, awkward tension in the air as he continues to work his magic throughout your body. For a moment, you don’t regret stepping foot into the establishment. For a moment, you don’t ponder on your worries and why things feel so fucking tense between you and Yoongi. Then it hits you when he clears his throat in the background thatyeah,your relationship, friendship— whatever the hell you wanted to call it— was cut off so abruptly. Seeing him made you really miss having him around. Because besides Rissa, he was someone you were able to lean on, have fun with, be yourself around.
There was no pressure with Yoongi before.
Now, there’s a ton.
Pressure to, what? Fix things? Talk about things? Figure out where it went so, so wrong that he had upped and left, cutting off all ties with you without reason? You don’t even know where or how to start.
“Y/N.” He repeats.
“Hm?”
“I said I need you to flip over so I can work on the front of your body.” You’re nervous. God, you’re nervous. It’s like you were trying to impress him all over again, the same Min Yoongi that you had the fattest fucking crush on. The same Min Yoongi that you could do all that shit with, but could never admit that you had feelings for.
You hold onto the linen cloth as you carefully turn yourself over on the table, Yoongi once again giving you the privacy you need by turning his back. When he feels like he’s given you enough time, he turns to see you pulling the linen cloth over your chest. He walks over, taking his biggest stone into another towel and wrapping it tightly before placing it down on your abdomen.
“That feel okay? Gonna leave this here while I work through your arms and legs.”
“Yeah, that feels nice.”
“Cool.” He says, pressing it down ever so slightly just so you could feel the heat against your abdomen. He starts with your left leg, following the same rhythm he had when he massaged the back of your leg earlier. He takes the stones around your thigh, down to your calf, and works it in small circular motions before repeating the same up and down motion he had done before. He then takes the stone, places it underneath the bend of your knee and take the other to your foot. He gently grips your foot, working the stone in small motions against the surface before his touch disappears and he moves onto the next leg.
His touch.
You remember feeling cold without his touch.
After massaging your leg, he takes a moment to grab another warm towel and places it over your breasts before sliding the linen cloth down below your abdomen.
“Gonna give you a quick abdomen massage. The towel feel okay?” You let out a small ’mhm’ before you hear him take a stone from behind you. He slowly introduces his touch against your abdomen, watching your body react to his touch.
His touch.
You remember how you used to react to his touch.
His touch is soft, gentle, when he presses into your abdomen, applying the right pressure as he goes on just as he realizes you’re comfortable again. He takes a stone and proceeds with double-handed kneading that followed the pattern along your colon.
He makes his way up to work with your left arm, hooking the stone into the palm of his hand while he uses the other for support— gently running it up your arm and over your shoulder, back down towards your wrist. He switches to another stone and turns your hand over; starting from your palm and working his way up to your axillary node, then back down. Afterwards, he takes both stones in his hands, running it back all the way up before gently kneading as he comes back down. He leaves a stone under your hand before taking two long stones to do some manipulation around your shoulders. Once he feels like he has finished your left arm, he repeats the process on your right.
“That felt nice.” Yoongi smirks at your sudden comment.
“That’s the goal.” He says, fixing the linen cloth over your body, tucking it in neatly so that your upper chest is properly exposed to him. “We’re almost done here. I’ll work on your upper chest and do a facial massage, okay? Then you’ll be out of here.”
“What if I don’t wanna be out of here? It’s too relaxing.” You mumble.
“Unfortunately, it doesn’t work that way.” He chuckles. “Relax.” He closes off the quick conversation by soothing your upper chest, working his hands around, up the shoulders and neck just to warm up the tissue. He repeats the process but this time, takes his two long stones and works them in, running it across your chest and in circular motions around the shoulders. He places them right beneath your collarbones so you can continue feeling the heat penetrate your tissues before taking two smaller stones to your face. He works the stones in an outward motion on your cheek, your forehead, in between your eyes— before working in an upward motion along the same path. Then, he grabs two stones a size up, working it behind the neck, ear and into the hairline in smaller motions. He sets the stones aside, now finishing off the massage by working his fingers deep into your scalp, down to your temples, keeping his hands over your ears for a brief moment to let the heat and energy transfer over. “How do you feel?” He says lowly near your ear, the vibrations in his tone somehow still able to send a tingle down your spine after all these years.
“Really good.”
“Yeah? That’s good.” He says, hands gently gliding down your neck, back to the surface of your chest before he removes the stones. “Hope that was a nice session for you.”
“Way more than that. Thank you.” He smiles to himself before turning towards the counter, placing the rest of his supplies back on the surface to remind himself to do some good cleaning and disinfecting before his next client.
“Take your time when you get up and get ready, alright? Don’t get up too fast.” You open your eyes, still feeling calm, relaxed, as your body feels every inch of the table.
“Can’t I just stay?” You joke.
“No can do.” Yoongi chuckles a bit.
“Hey.” You call for him. “This might sound a little crazy to ask but, do you think we can catch up? It’s been a long time, and quite frankly, I wasn’t really expecting to run into you here.” He turns over his shoulder before shaking his head.
“I don’t know. I don’t really think there’s much for us to catch up on.”
“You said it yourself, there’s alot of things I don’t know about you anymore. We used to be close—”
“Used to be.” He says quite harshly when he cuts you off. “And yeah, just cause I said that, doesn’t mean it’s shit you need to know.” He sighs, pushing his things aside before looking at you. “Sorry, I didn’t mean for it to come out that way, but you’re right. It’s been years, and to be honest, part of me just wants to leave it in the past like it should be kept in the past. I don’t really know if there’s much for us to talk about.”
“Please don’t be like that. I’m trying to figure out where things went wrong. It’s always bothered me that we ended up this way.” He shrugs.
“You ever think that maybe this is just how things were meant to be?” He says, giving you one last look, his tongue licking his bottom lip. “It was really nice to see you though, Y/N. Hope you had a good time.” He says before grabbing the door knob and twisting it, not really expecting you to be back for another session after all of this. “Again, no rush. My next client isn’t until an hour from now.” With that, he walks out and shuts the door, leaving you to your own peace.
You were relaxed. Felt blissful, felt at ease.
But now, you aren’t so sure. You aren’t sure if you wanna break down and cry, if you wanna run after him and beg for him to just talk to you.
You just aren’t sure.
So you get up and walk over to the back, throwing on your clothes before lazily tossing the robe into the hamper placed near the divider. You let out a breath before grabbing the knob and twisting it, revealing an empty hallway with a few closed doors in front of you. No Yoongi in sight though, and you can’t help but feel a bit heavy walking out of the session as if you didn’t just receive a hot stone massage from him.
“Hey! How was it?” Yannie asks, reading your expression as you walk out and tug on your unzipped hoodie. You give her a small, toothless smile and nod, hoping to be on your way quickly.
“It was great!” You simply say with a nod. “Definitely will be back.” You lie, mainly because you aren’t really sure where this leaves you with Yoongi even if you wantedto be back for one. Shit, that massage was everything you needed and more.
“Good to hear, we’ll see you again soon then.” She smiles before waving you off.
Fuck.
As for the rest of the day, you do take the time to walk around town, run into a few stores to window shop and eat at the nearby mom and pop Vietnamese restaurant for a good ol’ bowl of pho. Mainly out of enjoyment for your day off, moreso because your thoughts were starting to plague your mind and you needed a distraction.
If anything, today taught you that you really needed to take more time out of your busy schedule to slip in some self-care. So, that’s what you do to end your night just as well as you started it [you like to think]. You run some hot water and bubbles, pour a glass of red, red wine and light up some incense, candles.
“Wait—” Rissa says while you have her on speaker, phone sitting on the toilet cover. “Yoongi was your masseur?!”
"Yuuuup.” You say, sipping on your red wine.
“Oh, this is some shit.” She laughs. “Wish I could get my ass on that first flight home so I could see how you look right now.”
“Don’t even try it.”
“Well, tell me the massage was at least worth it.”
“It was, very much so.” She chuckles.
“But?”
“But, what?”
“There’s a ’but’ in that sentence. Now, spill.”
“It’s just weird. We fell off so abruptly, there was no closure. I just wish we could talk about things, I’m not entirely sure where things went wrong between us and it kinda sucks now that I’ve seen him again.”
“I know Yoongi has always meant a lot to you, Y/N. But you could never admit it to him, yourself, even. Don’t you think that has a lot to do with this?”
“W-what? That’s not true.”
“See, there you go again.” You sigh.
“I don’t know. Maybe.”
“Think about it. Not saying that’s it, there could be other reasons and the only person who would really know is Yoongi since we know what your side is like, but we don’t know his.”
“I don’t know what to do. Should I go back?”
“What, for a massage or for Yoongi?” She laughs. “Or both, I guess.”
“Both.” You slip a bit further down into the water. “He was pretty direct today. I don’t think he wants to talk about it, but part of me can’t really let that go.”
“You’ve always been stubborn like that. But, it’s good, you know? You always go for what you want without giving up. I say go for it. If he really, really doesn’t wanna see you and talk about things after this, then don’t force it. Maybe he’s right. It sucks to say, but maybe that’s really how you two were supposed to end up.” You sigh.
“Yeah, yeah.” You respond simply, shutting your eyes as you let the hot water seep in and continue to relax your muscles. It was hard to say. Yoongi did mean a lot to you. He was someone you always had fun with, someone you could trust, someone who took care of you even when you didn’t ask.
Of course, he meant a lot to you.
Of course, you wouldn’t let that go after seeing him again.
But of course, Yoongi’s detached and you’re having to break through his walls yet again— most likely due to something you did that you weren’t even aware of.
“You’re back!” Yannie exclaims when she sees you walk through the door shyly.
“I am. I probably should have called beforehand, but I wasn’t sure if I was going to make it in time before the last slot.” You rub your hands together. “Is Yoongi here?”
“He sure is, and you just got lucky. His last spot cancelled not too long ago.” Yannie shrugs.
“Sweet.”
“He’s with someone right now, but the session will be over—” She glances at the time. “Pretty soon, actually. Take a seat and get comfortable for now, alright?” She smiles, handing you one form to sign. You silently take the form with you, reading through the liability language again as you take your pen and get ready to sign at the line on the bottom half of the page. Sooner or later, you hear some giggling and a female voice echoing in the back hallway, a pretty, young lady coming through with Yoongi following behind her.
His smile drops almost instantly when he sees you sitting there. But it’s not cause he’s mad or anything, no. He could never be thatmad at you after everything, could never hold a big grudge against you. He’s just surprised that you’re back, and he’s also[surprisingly] relieved to see you’re back.
Your eyes, and that smile.
The way you always used to hold onto him and hold his hand, looking up at him with those puppy dog eyes.
Your laugh.
He could never be that mad at you.
“Hey, I know your last client cancelled, but Y/N is here hoping to grab that slot.” Yoongi nods.
“Yeah, it’s no problem.” He looks at the young lady in front of him as she bats her lashes and sways her hips while walking towards the door.
“See you next session, Yoonks?” She calls him a weird nickname that falls off her tongue so poorly. God.
“Of course.” He smiles shyly, hand coming to the nape of his neck as he watches her walk out. He finally turns his attention towards you and clears his throat when he realizes you had been watching the interaction the entire time. “I um, just need to clean up in there a bit then I’ll be ready for you. Give me a couple of minutes.”
“Okay.” Is all you say before finally scribbling your fucking signature on that line. Oh,Yoonks. Hope she isn’t the one you’re slipping in bed with. Your heart would be crushed to know he already had someone, even though you knew it was a high possibility after all this time. You couldn’t be selfish with him forever.
Sooner or later, you’re pulled out of your thoughts when Yoongi peeks his head out into the waiting area and taps the door frame. He purses his lips together when he looks at you and nods.
“Ready?”
“Mmyeah.” You get up to follow him.
“Enjoy!” Yannie exclaims when she sees you follow him to the back. You quietly continue on, setting your things aside like you had done before when you step into the room and Yoongi shuts the door behind him.
“Was that your girlfriend, or something?” You tease.
“No. Repeat client.” He looks at you before turning. “Somehow, I know you aren’t really here for the massage.” He fiddles with his things on the counter.
“I mean, I am. I could really use one.”
“But you wanna try and talk, don’t you?” You silently excuse yourself behind the divider to change and slip the robe on.
“Maybe. I won’t push it.” You say, tying the robe close before taking a seat on the edge of the table.
“Mm, but you always push it.” He softly chuckles. “There’s no stopping Y/N when she’s determined to get what she wants.” He turns to look at you, white tee hugging his body so nicely— you can’t help but ogle a bit when he steps in front of you.
“No, not anymore necessarily.” You try and cover your shit up even though both him and Rissa are right. You know this.
“Right.” He lets out a little laugh. “You wanna lie down so we can get this started?” He walks over to the cabinets, grabbing a fresh, clean pair of linens in his hands. When he turns, he catches you removing your robe and covering your breasts when you’re about to lie down. He quickly turns because quite frankly, he shouldn’t even be in here for this— but, it’s you.
You know this, too.
“I’m ready.” You tell him, placing your face into the cushion comfortably.
“Cool.” He says, draping your lower body with the linen in his hand, tucking it gently into your sides to make you feel even more comfortable. He makes his way to the front, preparing to manually massage you before adding the stones just so he can introduce his touch again. “Gonna start, alright? Relax, breathe in and out. I’ll massage you without the stones first to get your tissues warmed up.”
“Okay.” You pause before calling for him again. “Yoongi?” You let out a little weirdly with the pressure he’s adding onto your back.
“Hm?”
“What really happened between us?” He chuckles.
“And here you were, trying to tell me you weren’t gonna push the agenda. Do you have to do this now? Mid-hot stone massage?” You head the clacking of the stones against each other before he starts working it into your back. He’s right, it honestly feels too good for you to speak properly, but you felt like this was the only way— the only option, so to speak. His number had changed, he wasn’t necessarily on social media. Didn’t live at home with his parents anymore.
How else could you contact him besides seeing him for a massage?
“What other choice do I have?”
“I already told you there isn’t much to talk about.”
“Yeah, so why are we so awkward with each other?”
“It’s been years.”
“Why has it been years, Yoongi?” He sighs, head falling before he continues to work your back.
“It’s your massage, don’t blame me if you don’t feel completely rested afterwards.” He caves, gives in, knowing he can’t ever say no to you. He can’t ever be that mad, no.
You know that.
“I’m not gonna lie to you, Y/N. I was pretty upset with you when we spoke last. Do you even remember when that was?” He speaks up again.
“In college, yeah.” You let out a small sigh when he deeply massages near the shoulder blades.
“So, you don’t exactly remember?”
“Yoongi, I don’t. Okay? I’m sorry.” He should’ve expected it. He remembers that scene so clearly in his head, it almost aches him. He really did like you, Y/N. Min Yoongi was so much in like with you that he wanted to stop being friends with benefits, and he wanted more out of it. He was sure you two could take it there, no doubt. You fit each other well. So, so well—
Until you didn’t.
/ FLASHBACK
“Sorry, I need to go find Y/N soon. She said she wanted to kick it.” Yoongi tells his friend, Akio.
“What, for a quick fuck?” He laughs, making Yoongi shake his head.
“Shut the fuck up. She’s not just a quick fuck. That girl means a lot to me, alright?” Yoongi catches the way Akio’s face falls, moreso into confusion.
“Wait, you’re not serious, right?”
“I’m pretty sure I am.” Yoongi responds sarcastically, a little thrown off at the way he’s taking the news right now. Was there something he wasn’t aware about? Last time he checked, even if you two weren’t serious, you both were exclusively just fucking around with each other and each other only.
Yoongi could be completely wrong at this point, though. But he hoped he wasn’t. He really respected you and cared about you more than anyone he has ever crossed paths with, and the foundation of your friendship, that closeness you two had before anything, meant everything to him. He would never fuck that up. That’s why he always checked in with you, always made sure that what you two were doing was still okay. He would never wanna disrespect you or make you feel uncomfortable. He never wanted to step out of line, or even hurt you in the slightest bit.
“Look, I just thought you two settled on the fact that you were friends with benefits, that’s all.”
“What do you know that I don’t?”
“Nothing, man. That’s it.”
“Don’t lie to my face, dude.” Yoongi gives off a nervous chuckle. “What did she say to you?”
“She’s been telling people that you two weren’t serious and that she couldn’t really see you two together like that.. or— that she couldn’t see you like that.” Ouch. Yoongi’s fucking hurt, alright. And if that wasn’t enough, Yoongi catches the way Akio looks past his shoulder, so he follows his gaze. He turns to see you flirting with the hot soccer boy on campus, Kane, who was also notorious for sleeping around and messing with other females at the same time.
Great.
Fucking great.
Because he knows you wouldn’t turn that down— no, the fuck you wouldn’t.
And he wishes he was wrong because the moment he sees you hold onto his arm and let him walk you up into the dormitory, his heart sinks. Shatters to pieces. Everything feels numb.
He thought you two were on the same page. Clearly, you weren’t. He could never be that mad at you, though. Because he’s always gonna have it for you, always gonna have that soft spot for you and hold you close, even if you were meant to stray away, even if you were meant to be kept at a distance.
He could never be that mad at you,no.
“I’m sorry my guy, I really thought you two had been on the same page. I didn’t wanna be the first to break it to you like that. Maybe you should talk to her.”
“No, it’s good. You’re right, it’s really not that serious.” He lies.
“You sure?”
“Yeah, it’s whatever.” Akio shrugs.
“Alright then, I’m just saying. It could be good for you two to talk. It seems like there’s still a disconnect somewhere.” Yoongi ignores his added statement and pats him on the back.
“Gotta go, catch you later.” He thought you two were close enough, thought he could read every inch of you, be that person who knew you like the back of his hand. He thought he had the privilege of having that much access to you because god, never in a million years would he have guessed. It started off so innocently, started off as two friends going through college together, before it grew into something more.
He wished it could blossom into more.
But now, maybe he truly does have to keep you at a distance. Keep you away, treat you like your mind and heart had been somewhere else this entire time.
Fuck.
Later that evening, Yoongi runs into you after you finish up a review session in the library. It was the last thing he wanted to deal with tonight, but there was no turning back. You weren’t even aware that he knew about the things you said, seeing you with Kane earlier today. You knew nothing.
“Hey.” You giggle, swinging your arms around him, but he gently pries it off and continues to walk towards his dorm. “Wait, what’s wrong?”
“Nothing. Just having an off day.” He says, keeping his head hung low.
